#still needs a little work but it's at least decent

[mmmilkweed]

I'm still here!

hi all, just wanted to update y'all on how I'm doing.

Thank you, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, for the kind messages and anons. Every single one picked up a tiny piece of me and placed it back into its original place. I cannot thank you enough.

.. There's no easy way to say I'm still not doing good. BUT! I am doing *better.* Even if just a little, I consider it a win.

Mornings are a heavy issue. The past two, I've thrown up. Not today though, so that's a win right? Nightmares plague me - even today I caught myself dreaming that, once again, my words have been used against me and I was left alone, with only hatefull paragraphs to keep me company. Had I not realized I didn't have my phone in my hands when I woke up, I might have thought it was real. Man. Just another reason to have an aversion to my phone!!

I found a new.. Man, I never thought I'd use this word. I found a new trigger for my, what I can only assume, are panic attacks. Discord notifications. Just seeing the icon on the notification bar has my heart in my ears and I can't breathe. I still don't know how to efficiently calm myself down from these. While walking helps, I sit back down and it starts again. My job requires me to sit!! I've begun just brute forcing past it.

My appetite has completely vanished. I usually eat a decent amount through the day, but for the past 4 I've hardly been able to finish a single plate of food in a day. Yesterday I struggled with a can of monster. I LOVE MONSTERRR and yet I kept nursing it the WHOLE day. I was so mad... I'm going to go to my favorite restaurant soon, gonna work on getting my appetite back up.

On the way to my atelier, the song that inspired Timeless!AU came on: For Her by Jeremy Jordan. I adored this song. It meant everything to me, it's going to be on my Spotify wrapped from how much I listened to it. I.. Can't. Anymore. I put it on blast, I couldn't bring myself to skip it - and still, even when I was walking my heart beat faster than it should and I suddenly found myself out of breath. Negativity seeped into my favorite song. Figures

Still - it brought me some clarity. Past days I've really been feeling like a monster - but For Her made me remember that the AU really was always meant for this unrequited love, the whole thing somewhat inspired by the Great Gatsby and a dream that's just out of reach. How could I let myself be deluded so much? How did I let their words get to me so deeply that even I began questioning myself? ESPECIALLY since they don't me at ALL?! I saw someone say something so outrageous it become an inside joke with my friends! That really helped to disillusion me. I hope that with time, or with enough replays, I can find comfort in For Her again.. And I will. Jeremy Jordan is too good not to listen too

It's not all bad, though. I know I've been venting, yet I have to tell it at least to someone that's not my wife. Poor thing, I feel bad for her. She shouldn't be weighted my mistakes.

now let me tell you about the good too.

Oh there's so many amazing people in this community. Like each of you. Like my community on discord. Like my closer contemporaries. Discord notifications are not as scary when I see a certain groupchat or even server. Yes, while my heart skips a beat - I've laughed far more than cried. I can't thank them enough. I'll never bring it up to them, I don't need to drag down their mood, so I'm telling yall instead.

I've begun drawing again. I feel like I understand Shadow Milk Cookie on a very personal level now. If his demeanor changes going forward... I'm probably projecting.! Oh I've gotten to the point in rock bottom where I imagine PV helping me out with stuff. Man that's embarrassing to say. Akctually everything here is embarrassing to say - I still feel ashamed my body has such a visceral reaction to.. All of this! I digress. I began drawing again. I'm happy with what I have, can't wait to start showing yall.

I've begun scrolling Twitter too. In small doses. My modteam suggested it, and woah, it helped scrolling through the splatoon tag. I can't just up and leave it, as it's my current main source of income. I'm watching CRK tiktoks too! Slowly.

I'll try to be stead fast in my recovery - I've come to realize there are people who are dependant on me, they look to me to see how they should react. I did not see that before, and for that, I also apologize. Many have pointed out I'm new to this, and only now did I realize just how right you were. Especially as someone whos always kept to a side line - having a voice baffles me.

[moonlightandromache]

okay jumping on the buddieravi trapped under rubble together bandwagon. consider this, there’s no big love confession, but eddie hasn’t moved back to la yet, the earthquake happens not long after the funeral and hes still there and its an all hands on deck sort of situation, and thus buddieravi ends up trapped, they’re sitting there under the rubble and eddie confesses ‘if we survive this, chris and I are moving home’ and buck whips his head around to stare at Eddie with wide eyes and it’s quite for a moment, and ravi to break the awkwardness and also mistaking buck’s bewilderment as panic says ‘well, buck if you need a place to stay Ihave a pretty decent guest room’ and before buck can even turn to look at ravi eddie’s like ‘don’t be ridiculous, i’m not kicking buck out, we can share’ and buck, still staring bewildered at eddie goes ‘ha ha yeah of course’ and ravi decides to just drop it because he’s so tired of being stuck in Their Bullshit.

(unfortunately for ravi, this is Not the last of this particular bullshit)

cut to the night of eddie and chris moving home, they spent most of the afternoon into the evening unpacking the uhaul, chris has gone to bed and buck and eddie are sitting on the couch together sharing a beer, both utterly exhausted but neither wanting to break from their peaceful little bubble, until eddie yawns big and loud and buck goes ‘you should take the bed tonight—you’ve been driving all day and your back doesn’t need to be more fucked up than it already is’ and eddie looks at him like hes grown two heads and goes ‘don’t be silly, we’ll share the bed. it’s not like we haven’t done it before’ and buck obviously can’t say ‘well that was before i realized i was bisexual. and also maybe am in love with you’ so instead he goes ‘haha, yeah, of course’ and when they get in bed buck ends up lying so stiff that eddie rolls his eyes (which buck doesn’t see because he’s pointedly staring at the ceiling) and goes ‘buck, hey, relax. it’s just me—it’s not like i don’t know about how you snore like a grandpa’ which does get buck to relax a little because he turns to glare at eddie insisting ‘i don’t snore like a grandpa’ and eddie gives him a toothy smile, reaches out to pat him on the cheek (which buck totally doesn’t tense up again because of) and says ‘sure bud, just get some sleep, i’m not gonna kick you out of bed in the middle of the night’ and then rolls over and goes to sleep. the next night when they are once again sitting on the couch together nursing beers, eddie stands up, smacking his thighs and declares that it’s time for bed and before buck can even suggest any kind of sleeping arrangement eddie holds out his hand for buck to use to haul himself off the couch with a ‘c’mon bud’ and eddie, instead of letting go once buck’s on his feet, turns and tugs buck along with him to the bedroom, leaving no room for buck to protest as he declares he’s taking the bathroom first and buck can just get changed in the bedroom while he waits.

cue a montage of the next couple of nights where buck, trying to be normal about it, ends up getting some of the worst sleep of his life because he forces himself to stay awake as long as possible to make sure eddie’s actually fallen asleep and then subsequently makes sure he wakes up in the morning before eddie, nights spent at the firehouse are actually a reprieve for him, at least the ones where they can actually lie down in the bunk room for a little while. which works for a little while until they end up having a particularly grueling shift with back to back calls allowing for little to no rest, buck finds ravi after their shift is done while eddie is still in the showers washing off sewer (he drew the short straw) and asks if he could crash in his guest room that night. ravi raises his eyebrows and responds with a teasing smirk ‘what did eddie finally kick you out?’ and buck, slightly offended on eddies behalf replies ‘no of course not’ to which ravi’s eyebrows manage to raise slightly higher and buck, slightly panicking blurts ‘eddie and chris are having a father-son bonding night and i don’t want to intrude’ and ravi just kinda stares at him for a moment and buck hastily adds on ‘i’ll make dinner?’ and ravi, not one to argue with the offer of free food shrugs and says ‘sure’ and they agree that buck will come by around 6 and its set.

except eddie and chris don’t have any kind of father-son bonding night planned, and buck has to come up with an excuse for why he’s heading out for the evening and, again panicking slightly, tells eddie that he had a date. to which eddie raises his eyebrows and goes ‘you’re dating again?’ and buck, already set in the lie, responds ‘just, uh, just casually. i’m not—not looking for anything serious right now, just trying to, y’know, get back on that horse?’ and eddie is quiet for a moment just looking at buck and then says ‘right, sure.’ and buck turns to leave but pauses again, ‘uh, don’t wait up? i don’t know how late i’ll be’ and eddie, voice going slightly funny replies ‘right, uh, i guess—have fun?’ and buck nods, pleased with himself for his on the spot improvisational skills, and heads out the front door.

the night spent at ravi’s rejuvenates buck and he is able to fall back into the routine he crafted for himself to be able to share the bed with eddie for about another week until the lack of sleep catches up with him again and he finds himself reaching out to ravi again, this time claiming ‘chris is having a sleepover and it’d be kinda hard to crash on the couch when theres a whole bunch of teenagers camped out in the living room determined to stay awake as long as possible’ and offers to bring ravi some of his latest batch of baked goods and ravi once again is like. sure man. because who turns down buck’s blueberry surprise muffins? and anyway everything is once again set. except for the fact that there isn’t any actual sleepover happening at the diaz house that night, so buck once again makes up a date, and once again tells eddie ‘not to wait up’ and eddie doesn’t ask how the date went the next morning when he wakes up to buck making breakfast.

and it continues on like that for a few weeks, buck making up some kind of reason he needs to be out of the diaz house for a night to ravi and then telling eddie he’s got another date and not to wait up and buck foolishly thinks he’s hacked the system.

until the fifth time it happens, buck comes home from ravi’s place to find eddie already awake, sitting on the couch, waiting for him. eddie doesn’t meet buck’s eyes when he says ‘this is your fifth date this month’ and buck, confused replies ‘uh, yeah, guess so’ ‘same person? seems like it could be getting a little bit serious’ and buck rubs at the back of his neck ‘oh, no, uh, different—different people’ and eddie, still not looking at buck goes ‘really? i mean—you haven’t felt a spark with any of them?’ and buck chuckles nervously, entirely unprepared for this conversation and replies ‘uh, no, guess not’ and eddie finally, finally looks at buck and goes ‘why are you lying to me?’ he holds up his own phone like a piece of evidence ‘we have location sharing on, remember? i know you’ve been going to ravi’s’ and buck, deer in the headlights, completely panics and blurts out ‘i’m sleeping with him’ and eddie, looking suddenly very confused, eyes squinting slightly says ‘what?’ and buck, already climbing into the hole he’s dug for himself goes, ‘we’re having sex. me and ravi' and eddie is once again staring at him like he's grown a second head and buck decides to make a stealthy retreat (read: goes to the kitchen and makes a bit of an extravagant breakfast) and then chris is awake and the conversation doesn’t get brought back up.

except, they have a shift that same day, and while buck initially is grateful for this, about 4 hours into their 24, ravi comes up to buck while he’s doing inventory in the supply closet and goes ‘hey, uh, did—did i do something to make eddie mad at me? because i feel like he’s mad at me.’ and buck replies ‘what? no. eddie isn’t mad at you’ and ravi goes ‘are you sure? because he’s been acting…a little weird? but like, specifically to me?’ and buck is like ‘pshh, what? no he isnt. hes just being—regular eddie.’ and then in comedic timing eddie appears, does a slight double take at buck and ravi standing together in the supply closet, makes a weird face ‘sorry, didn’t mean to, uh, interrupt anything.’ and he says it like the words are sour in his mouth, still looking between buck and ravi, and then he seemingly remembers why he came looking for them in the first place and says ‘food’s ready’ and then promptly spins on his heel and leaves before buck or ravi can say anything.

and ravi just, fixes buck with a Look and buck goes all sheepish and says ‘uh, so maybe eddie’s acting a little weird.’

[notiddygothgf]

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ This can’t be anything.❞

★ c.w.: drinking, yearning, PTSD

★ a/n: im back again lol.... i couldnt stay away! i just love aki too much lol. anyway! here's my little present to make up for my asbence, a few chapters of delicious juicy aki goodness. enjoyyyyy!! keep commenting and spamming as always, yk they make my day lol

★ w.c: 12k

for your love ; chapter index

THE OFFICE SMELLED faintly of old coffee and wood – familiar, sterile, steady. Captain Aki Hayakawa sat behind his desk, his posture as straight as the file in front of him. He turned a page with quiet precision, eyes flicking down the résumé.

“You're from Osaka?” Aki asked, not looking up at the new hire.

The young man nodded from the other side of the desk. He was a lean fellow – only a few inches shorter than Aki himself. If his resume was correct, then he lived up the street from Aki himself. In the same development. "Yes, sir. Born and raised."

Kaito Nakamura.

Aki’s eyes didn’t lift. He skimmed through the page, scanning over a short but solid record – civilian law enforcement, two commendations, and a recent transfer request. It was all clean. Impressive for someone barely out of his teens.

“You’ve got good references,” Aki said. “No disciplinary action. Physical scores are decent.”

“Thank you, sir,” the kid replied, a touch nervous.

That’s when Aki finally looked up – eyes level, unreadable. The kid couldn’t have been older than twenty, with a freshly shaven jaw and a half-practiced sort of confidence. Eager. Green.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” the man added, as if to fill the silence. “Before I applied here. Everyone says you're sharp. Not just anyone gets to run a place like this.”

Aki blinked once. “Is that so?”

Another hum passed between them. Not quite amusement. Not quite anything.

His eyes dipped back to the résumé. Scanned the personal section. There it was.

“Married?” Aki asked, glancing down again. “You’re a bit young for that, aren’t you?”

The man smiled – an easy, casual thing, like this was a story he liked telling.

“It’s funny you bring that up, actually,” he said. “I’ve heard you and my wife have the same birthday coming up. November eleventh.”

A beat. Aki’s pen paused against the folder. He didn’t look up right away. Didn’t need to.

“What an odd coincidence,” Aki murmured. Then, after a beat, he closed the file neatly and stood.

“You’re approved. You’ll start on Monday,” he said simply. “Orientation in the morning. Patrol rotation in the afternoon. We’ll ease you into city routes.”

The kid stood too, eyes bright with opportunity. “Thank you, sir.”

Aki took the offered handshake. Firm. Polite. Distant.

He waited until the door clicked closed again before his gaze shifted—to the thin corner of the folder where the wife’s name was printed in small, neat letters.

November eleventh.

He didn’t smile. Just sat back down, leaned an elbow on the desk, and stared at nothing in particular as the city hummed just outside his window.

Late night walks were Aki’s favorite thing to do when sleep failed him. Whenever it slipped through his grasp, leaving him laying on his back, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to some question he didn’t even know how to ask – whenever his roommates drove him up the wall, a walk never failed to clear his mind. Some nights he didn’t sleep much at all. Others, he would be chased by nightmares into the early hours of the morning.

It never stopped.

He’d had them since he was a child, but they had grown significantly worse over the course of his career as a Public Safety officer. Blood, gore, loss painted his memory like streaks of red over a blank canvas. Perhaps the greatest loss of all was the one he still couldn’t wrap his head around – the loss of his partner, Himeno.

Their relationship was… strange, to say the least. But it worked. For every pound of misery he carried into work, there she would be, all wide-eyed with that stupid grin on her face. She had feelings for him, he knew that much, and though he had never returned them, she had become the closest thing he could have called family. After her passing, he kept the dog tag necklace she used to wear under her uniform. Love was the word, though not in the traditional sense – there was no yearning, no longing for anything other than to hear her long-winded stories, to carry her drunken body home one final time. It was greater than worldly desire.

She was the first person to see him as something more than a machine, a person. She’d been his first kiss – though, admittedly, she was wasted beyond comprehension and he had no interest in doing such a thing with her. She was the first person he ever opened up to about his childhood, about his family, about the Gun Devil. She was the one who offered him his first cigarette. And, with the exception of his family some fourteen years ago, she was the first person he ever cried over. His first experience with loss as an adult – fresh and brutal and unexpected.

One minute she was there, clasping a hand over his back, telling him not to die on her. The next, the only thing left of her was a pile of clothes and an eye patch where her body had once been – the physical remnants of her sacrifice, her selfish decision to give her life up so that he could live.

And, fuck, he had spent the past two years wondering why. Why she had gone and done that when she knew he would be completely lost without her – why she had left him after promising that it would be the two of them against the world for however long they would live.

Often, he wondered if what he felt for Himeno was love – not the familial kind, but the kind you felt when your heart would kick up a beat whenever someone was around. But there was no racing of his pulse, no dreams about her – save for some brutal retellings of her death. She knew that he was incapable of loving her the way she needed and, yet, still, she chose him. 

She chose his life over hers.

Easy revenge was the only thing she’d left behind. That, and a confusing horde of emotions he didn’t know how to cope with.

Aki stepped off of the porch of his house and into the empty street. He was wearing a black tee shirt and some sweatpants – still, as he had only climbed out of bed a few minutes prior. From his pocket, he fished out his lucky carton of cigarettes and his lighter – the one Himeno had left him. He popped a cigarette between his lips – the motion both soothing and familiar – and flicked the wheel twice until the flame took to the end of it. Once he heard that familiar sizzle, he took a deep breath in, letting the nicotine swirl in his mouth, invade his lungs, ease his tensions away. 

I hope you’re doing well down there, He thought, pulling a long hit from the end of the cigarette before letting it all go – breathing his worries out into the midnight air, pretending they left with the smoke, because he knew there was no way in hell that she made it to the pearly gates. Too many drunk mistakes and dead bodies for that.

No, there was no promised land for Devil Hunters. He knew that.

In fact, he had long since given up on his dream of finding the Gun Devil. Losing her radicalized him, made him realize that protecting his family was the only thing that mattered.

His family, of course, being his two pin-headed roommates, Denji and Power.

The pavement was still damp from the afternoon’s shower. Out here, it was quiet. In fact, save for the sounds of traffic only a block or two away, the only sound he could hear was the sound of his Converse crunching against concrete. That, and the sound of… birds?

Aki furrowed his brows as he took another puff of smoke. Since when did we have birds out here?

His eyes trailed the source of the sound until they stopped on the only house with its lights still on – the one at the end of the street. The warm rays of light seemed to be coming from its side. Curiously, he inched towards it.

45, the mailbox read. If his memory served him correctly, then this was that rookie’s house – Kaito Nakamura, the one he’d interviewed today. The one with the wife who had the same birthday as him. It was as normal and unassuming as the man himself – painted with a neutral yellow exterior, having no real distinguishing features other than the chirping noises coming from the doorway.

His feet carried him right up to the side of the house. There was an open porch, one at ground-level, so he felt a whole lot less awkward than he probably should about approaching the bird cages that dangled off of the roof. There had to have been at least ten of them, each made of a different kind of metal, each containing a different kind of bird that he couldn’t have named if you paid him to.

Slowly, he approached the perpetrator – a yellow bird with red dots on its cheeks. It had its beak open, squawking into the otherwise quiet ambience.

Little shit, he thought, already pulling another hit from the smoldering cigarette between his fingertips.

Without even thinking about it, he breathed out – letting the smoke float into the bird’s cage. Really, he had no business jeopardizing the life of someone else’s bird, he knew that much. Still, it was mindless, something he didn’t fully realize he had even done until after the smoke materialized.

A voice called out behind him, “The bird doesn’t like that.”

Aki damn near jumped out of his skin, whipping his body around and coming face to face with you – a woman he could only assume to have been Nakamura’s wife. You were the picture of innocence, looking to be a year or two younger than Aki himself – hair tied back into a messy bun, cheeks a little flushed from the breeze, donning nothing more than a cotton nightgown that hugged your curves.

And you had the prettiest eyes he had ever seen.

Stop ogling your subordinate’s wife, He chastised himself, quickly flicking the cigarette onto the floor and smothering it out with his foot.

“I’m sorry, I–” He began, but the words fleeted him. “I’m not a fan of birds.”

None of that explains what you’re doing here on her porch blowing smoke at her pets, asshole, He thought.

“It’s alright,” You breathed out, wrapping your arms around your chest, as if you were self conscious beneath his gaze. He thought that there was entirely no need to feel such a way, especially given the fact that you looked like you crawled right out of a dream, all dewy lashes and blushy cheeks. “He gets… fussy when people are near him. You didn’t need to put it out on my account.”

“I did it for the bird,” He replied, though it was entirely a lie. He couldn’t give less of a shit about what the bird felt. “Didn’t mean to bother him.”

You shrugged, a little awkward, “He’ll puff up and squawk for a while. He’s kind of dramatic, honestly.”

“He’s not wrong,” Aki couldn’t help the half-smile that settled over his face. 

It was rare for him to smile these days, truthfully. So, the fact that you managed to pull this much out of him already was… a little disconcerting.

Still, rather than leaving – like he definitely should have been doing – he offered his name to you, “Name’s Aki Hayakawa. I live up the street.”

“You’re… from Public Safety, right?” You tilted your head at him, and it was the strangest thing – your hair fell down over your neck, your chest, and his heart skipped a beat. 

She knows who I am.

“Yeah,” He replied, rendered completely breathless by the motion. You were gorgeous – the kind people wrote poems about. Nakamura was a lucky man. “I work with your husband, I think. Nakamura, right?”

“Right,” You nodded, “Sorry if I startled you. Didn’t mean to.”

“I didn’t mean to trespass on your porch,” He sighed, “I just needed some fresh air.”

“You’re fine, I came out here for the same reason, actually,” You rushed out, waving your hands in the air, as if to dismiss his worries. “I haven’t slept well since we moved in here.”

There was a pregnant pause, then – during which Aki glanced down at his feet and awkwardly swung his weight back and forth, and you tucked your hair behind your ear.

Am I making her nervous?

“He said you were intense,” You broke the silence – and his train of thought. Your voice was melodic, sort of like an instrument. He didn’t think he’d mind standing here and listening to you talk all night. You had the strangest effect on him. “I don’t know what I pictured, but… you’re quieter than I expected.”

Aki proved your point only a moment later by answering quietly, “Quiet’s not always a bad thing.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” You retorted, clearly embarrassed by his remark. The prettiest blush dusted your cheeks, one that made his heart thrum a little harder. “Sorry, I’m not… I’m not really good at talking to new people.”

Clearly, I’m not either, he thought, then, Stop it. Behave.

His eyes betrayed his thoughts, dropping from your face down to the white nightie you wore, the way the fabric fluttered out over your hips, your bare legs. You were rubbing your thighs together – a nervous habit, perhaps? “Did I wake you?”

“No!” You shook your head, “No, I wasn’t sleeping. I just– I came outside for the same reason you did, I guess.”

“Is this where you grew up?” He asked, desperate to keep the conversation going despite the fact that he knew damn well how inappropriate it was to be out here with you. 

“No,” You replied. “I moved here a few months ago.”

“You like it?” He asked carefully.

“I’m trying to,” You exhaled.

Aki observed you like an admirer would a painting – as if you would be damaged if he got too close to you. “I know what that’s like.”

“It’s different, being around all of these people I barely know,” You admitted, smiling faintly. Maybe it was the light from the moon, from the warm porchlight overhead, but Aki thought you looked beautiful. “The other housewives have been nice to me, though.”

“Yeah,” He replied, stupidly, “Takes time.”

You glanced at the cigarette on the ground. “Do you… smoke a lot?”

Huh, he thought, Looks like she’s trying to keep the conversation going, too.

“Too much, probably,” He admitted.

“That’s bad for you,” You noted softly, gently, your voice as quiet as the wind.

He replied, “So I’ve heard.”

“Still… It suits you,” The quietest hum left your lips, as if you were still trying to make sense of the interaction – and whether or not you wanted it to end – yourself. “You seem like the type.”

Himeno used to say the same thing.

“What does that mean?” He asked anyway.

“The kind who doesn’t care if he lives or dies if it means he finishes the job,” You remarked.

Ah. So she knew about his… history.

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or a warning,” He furrowed his brows, though the corner of his lips quirked up at the way your eyes widened.

“Maybe both,” You answered, your voice only a notch above a whisper.

“You don’t seem like the type to go around scolding strangers,” He commented.

That pretty blush was back and brighter than ever, illuminating the slopes of your face like a horde of fireflies lighting up a dark field. “I don’t, usually, but it’s not every day that you find a Captain smoking a cigarette on your porch.”

“Touché,” He replied.

She’s cute, He noted.

A silence settled between you. Not uncomfortable — just suspended. Like neither of you was sure whether to step forward or away.

You glanced toward the door, fingers curling in the hem of your nightgown, the breeze nudging your hair loose.

“I should… probably head back in,” You glanced towards the door. You were a great deal shorter than him. 

“Yeah,” Aki nodded, taking a step back, as if that would break him free of the spell you seemed to have cast on him. “Of course.”

With a soft, uncertain smile, you dipped your head in a bow, “It was nice meeting you, Captain Hayakawa.”

He nodded at you once more. Then, you turned on your heel, and made your way to the door. Just before your delicate fingers grazed the brass doorknob, he called out to you–

“Wait–”

You paused, your hand already on the door.

“I never got your name,” He clarified.

You hesitated for a beat, as if considering whether to give it. Then you looked back over your shoulder – the porch light catching in your eyes – and smiled. Not shy, not fully. There was something brighter underneath it now. Then, you told him your name, and his eyes couldn’t help but follow your lips as they formed the pretty syllables, as the name fell from your lips like butter.

A pretty name. One that suited you, he thought.

Then, without waiting for his reaction, you slipped inside, allowing the door to creak shut behind you.

Aki glanced back at the bird. Then back at the space where you had been only a few seconds earlier.

This one’s gonna be a problem, isn’t she? He thought.

That night, Aki had the same dream he always had – images of a snowy December day, of a smoking pit where his family had once been. He dreamt of a pile of clothes, an eyepatch that once used to accentuate the smile of his closest cohort.

Only now, there was a new picture in his head – pretty eyes and a timid smile.

It felt too quiet.

Himeno wasn’t there. That absence hit first.

The steps in front of HQ buzzed with noise — Denji’s shouting, Power’s demands to be in the center of the photo, Kurose quietly trying to coordinate it all — but none of it settled the way Himeno’s voice used to. She would’ve been loud, obnoxious, teasing everyone into line. She would’ve elbowed Aki and made him smile in that dry, reluctant way that used to come easier when she was around.

Without her, it felt... off. Lopsided. Like a room missing its light.

He shifted his weight. Rolled a cigarette between his fingers but didn’t light it. His coat felt too stiff. His shirt collar too tight. He didn’t know why he was in this picture. Or why the new guy was late.

The photographer was getting impatient.

Then the sound of quick footsteps—two pairs—echoed from the sidewalk.

Aki looked up.

And there he was: the new recruit. Breathless, still adjusting his collar. Twenty years old, fresh out of Osaka, married.

Your hand was in his.

Aki’s jaw tightened just slightly. He watched the way your husband smiled, too boyish for someone who claimed to be ready for this job. He apologized for the delay, and someone waved him into place.

But Aki’s eyes didn’t follow him.

They followed you.

You looked different in daylight. Different in this context—out in the open, visible, belonging to someone else. Your hair was done like you meant to impress, your expression polite and unreadable. You didn’t meet Aki’s eyes right away. And maybe that was for the best.

Because the second you did, it landed like a sucker punch. Like something in him twisted up and burned quietly behind the ribs.

You were smiling. It wasn’t for him.

He looked away first.

It was almost funny—how quickly everyone seemed to move on. You and your husband buzzed up the stairs, folded neatly into the group like you belonged there, like nothing about the last few weeks had ever happened. Aki didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He just stepped aside before the next photo and slipped out a cigarette.

No one noticed.

They never really did.

He lit up and turned his back to the rest of them, exhaling into the sharp morning air. The silence that followed felt louder than the chatter he left behind. It settled in his shoulders. Pressed into his chest.

And then he heard you.

Your steps were softer. Familiar in a way that made something behind his ribs tighten again.

You didn’t follow the others inside. You didn’t say a word. Just came to stand beside him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He didn’t look at you.

Didn’t need to.

He could feel you beside him — the heat of you, the tension, the weight of everything you weren’t saying. You weren’t supposed to be here. Not like this. Not now, not after walking in on someone else’s arm.

But here you were.

Again.

“They went inside. Are you coming?” You asked him in that pretty little drawl of yours, and he was a goner all over again.

“No, I was gonna take a smoke break,” He hummed, breathing smoke out into the air – to the side, because the last thing he wanted was the breathe it into your face – without moving the cigarette from his teeth. “Maybe a walk.”

You shifted beside him, your body angled just slightly toward his. “Can I come with you?”

That was the thing – he should’ve said no. He should’ve made up some excuse, nodded you back toward the building, sent you away like he was supposed to.

But he didn’t.

He flicked the cigarette away and watched it skitter across the pavement. “Yeah,” he said, quieter this time. “Okay.”

You didn’t smile, but something eased in your shoulders. And without another word, the two of you started walking.

The air was cool, the sky heavy with clouds that hadn’t yet made up their mind about rain. Streetlamps buzzed overhead, casting gold halos across patches of cracked sidewalk. Your footsteps were soft, and every few seconds, Aki caught the sound of your sleeve brushing against your side, the whisper of your breath.

You didn’t speak at first. He didn’t mind. Silence with you felt full, not empty.

Eventually, you broke it.

“So… do you always sneak out of photos, or is that just today?”

He huffed out something like a laugh. “Depends on the company.”

You tilted your head, glancing sideways at him. “Am I good company?”

“Better than the lot of them, honestly,” He glanced at you then — only for a second — and found you smiling faintly, looking down at your feet.

“I think I like it better out here,” you said.

“Yeah. Me too.”

A few more steps passed between you. The night was still, save for the rustle of wind through half-dead trees and the low hum of traffic a few blocks off.

“Do you like the city?” you asked.

“It’s alright.”

“That’s not a yes.”

Aki shrugged. “Better than most places.”

You were quiet again, and he could tell you were mulling over something. It took a minute for you to speak.

“I miss home sometimes,” you admitted. “It was… simpler.”

“You from the country?”

You nodded. “Small town. You could hear cicadas at night. You could see the stars.”

Aki looked up — out of habit, maybe — but the clouds were too thick. “Sounds nice.”

“It was. But boring, I guess. That’s why I left.”

He gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment. “Boring sounds like a luxury these days.”

That earned a real smile from you. Small, a little sad. But real.

You walked a little closer after that. Not enough to touch. Just enough to notice.

And then it happened.

It was sudden –  the shift in the air, the spike of dread in Aki’s chest that came a second too late. One minute the street was quiet, the next it was wrong. A cold ripple crawled up the back of his neck.

He grabbed your arm without thinking, jerking you behind him. “Get down.”

Before you could even respond, something tore through the alley ahead — fast, fast enough to blur. Aki caught a flash of teeth, a glint of claws. It was tall, lean, twisted in shape like someone had sketched a human and then scratched it out.

He reached for his sword.

Too slow.

The Devil moved with a whipcrack sound – not toward him, but you.

You gasped, stumbling back as it slashed –  a wide arc of motion, like it meant to take your whole head off.

Aki’s blade was halfway out of its sheath when he heard the wet snap of impact.

And then your knees gave out.

He caught you before you hit the pavement, arms wrapping around you hard enough to bruise. You were gasping, hands pressed to your throat, blood already spilling between your fingers.

“Shit– hey. Hey, look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered, wide and scared and glistening.

“I’ve got you.” His voice was low, fierce, nothing like his usual calm. “Stay with me, okay? Just keep looking at me.”

He crouched with you, drawing you into his chest as he dragged the cursed blade free with his other hand, senses locked onto the devil now circling in the dark.

It hadn’t gone for him.

It had gone for you.

You were shivering, your breathing ragged. Blood slicked your neck, soaked into his uniform. His jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

He didn’t look at the wound. He didn’t want to see how bad it was.

“Don’t move,” he said, his voice lower now, steadier only because it had to be. “I– I’ll take care of it.”

You tried to nod, but the motion was small and weak. Aki let go of you gently, like you might break, and stood.

The devil rushed him again – fast, erratic – but now he was ready.

Raising a trembling hand up to the air, he pinched his thumb and middle finger together – finding the devil in the center, “Kon.”

Then, like it had done countless times before, the Fox Devil appeared, chomping the devil clean in half and leaving nothing more than a trail of purple goop in its path. 

After a moment, it disappeared, and when Aki was certain that it was gone, he rushed back to your side.

He turned on his heel and dropped beside you.

Your eyes were still open. That was good. That had to be good.

“I’ve got you,” he said again, hands already searching for pressure points, for anything to stop the bleeding. “You’re going to be okay.”

You didn’t speak. Your lips moved, but no sound came out.

“You’re okay,” he said, and this time it sounded more like a prayer than a promise.

She’s okay.

You turned your head towards the concrete, hand flying up to cup your ear, “My earring–” You gasped. “I think– I think I lost my earring.”

You were right. On one ear, a gold hoop with a pearly charm dangled. On the other, nothing.

She almost died and she’s worried about an earring? He thought.

It was enough to make him crack a smile.

The knock was sharp – one, then two – like the man on the other side had been standing there for too long, thinking it over.

Aki didn’t look up from the paperwork on his desk.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open. Boots on tile. The air shifted.

When Aki finally glanced up, Nakamura stood there — still in uniform, still stiff-backed like always, but his expression was softer than usual. Tired. Haunted around the eyes.

“Captain,” Nakamura greeted with a short nod. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“It’s fine,” Aki said flatly. “Sit.”

The man didn’t – just hovered near the chair across from the desk, hands folded in front of him like he wasn’t sure whether to stay or leave.

“I just… wanted to say thank you,” Nakamura said after a moment. “For what you did. This morning.”

Aki blinked once, then set his pen down. The words didn’t sit right. Too formal, too tidy for what had actually happened. You’d almost bled out on a city sidewalk because of his decision – because he couldn’t say no when he should’ve.

“I didn’t do anything worth thanking,” he said. “I let her walk into a fight she wasn’t trained for.”

“You saved her,” Nakamura countered. “That’s what matters.”

Aki’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t argue. Not out loud.

“It won’t happen again,” Nakamura added. His voice was firm now, resolute. “I’ll make sure she keeps her distance from this stuff. It’s not her world.”

Aki’s eyes flicked up. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No,” the man agreed. “You could have gotten hurt, though. That’s enough.”

A beat of silence stretched between them. The fluorescent light buzzed faintly above.

Aki leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly through his nose. He paused, carefully weighing the words before he spoke them.

“I’d like to apologize to her. In person.”

Aki counted the numbers as they climbed – his sneakers clicked rhythmically against the linoleum floor. This particular wing of the hospital was quieter than the lobby had been, though he did brush past a few nurses with carts on his way down the hall. 

In his arms, a bouquet of flowers – because he wasn’t entirely sure what else to do. In his pocket, your lost earring. (He had bribed Denji and Power with gum to spend the evening searching the spot where you had lost it. Power tried to eat it).

908. 910. 

912.

The door to your hospital room was closed. Nervous for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, Aki raised his hand up to the door and knocked twice. Do I have the right room?

Then, your voice rang out through the door – “Come in.”

He took a deep breath, smoothing his hands over his Public Safety uniform and his hair before he actually turned the knob and stepped into the room. Immediately the smell filled his nose – almost too much to bear. It was sharp and sterile and suddenly, he was two years younger, sitting up in his hospital bed with his head in his hands after realizing that his partner was really dead. Then, lingering just beneath the surface, was something distinctly you – lavender, clean laundry, something homey. Something that brought him back to the present.

Something that brought his eyes up to where you were rested – tucked away in the corner of the room, gazing out the window. There was a white gauze wrapped around your neck, tainted pink in the middle where you had been nicked by the devil. When you heard the door creak open, you glanced over slowly, timidly, like you weren’t sure what to expect.

Then your eyes were on him and he felt his stupid heartbeat kick up a notch.

Calm yourself, he reminded himself, Subordinate’s wife, remember?

“Hi,” He breathed out, sounding a whole lot more breathless than he intended. Why did he feel hot, all of a sudden? “I– uh… I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”

Your gaze dropped to the bouquet of flowers swaddled in his arm, then back up to his face.

“I never should have…” He trailed off, suddenly at a loss for words. This was a lot harder than he had originally thought it would be. “If I had just reacted faster, you wouldn’t have been hit. I’m sorry.”

I’m so fucking sorry.

You looked at him.

Not the way most people did – not polite or casual or distracted. Just… looked. Steady and soft, your lashes low, your body still beneath the blanket. That look landed in his chest like something weighted. He could feel it settle in deep, anchoring behind his ribs.

Your voice was just above a whisper. “The flowers need a vase.”

Aki blinked. For a second, he forgot what he was holding.

The bouquet in his hands — white lilies, a few roses, some baby’s breath — felt clumsy, too full in his grip. Like it didn’t belong. Like he didn’t belong.

But still, he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, voice quiet. “I’ll… find something.”

You nodded, and your gaze dropped to your lap. You didn’t say anything else.

He turned and left without looking back.

The hallway outside your room felt colder somehow, quieter than before. Fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, and somewhere down the corridor, a machine beeped a steady, mechanical rhythm. But it was like all of it blurred into white noise. The only thing he could hear was the echo of your voice. The way it had hit him.

Aki found the nurse’s station just around the corner. He didn’t approach right away — lingered near the edge like he wasn’t sure how to ask. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Do you have… a vase? For flowers.”

One of the nurses looked up – a younger woman, her scrubs wrinkled, her hair pulled back into a high bun. She gave him a glance that flicked between his face and the bouquet in his hand.

“I think so,” she said after a second. “Give me a sec.”

She disappeared into a supply closet and returned with a clear glass vase and a small pair of scissors.

“You’ll want to trim the stems,” she added, holding both items out to him.

He took them without meeting her eyes. “Thanks.”

There was a single-stall bathroom nearby. He slipped in, locked the door, and stood there for a second, just breathing.

The mirror above the sink was slightly dirty. He caught his reflection in it – tie loosened, shadows under his eyes. He looked tired. He felt tired. But that wasn’t why his hands were shaking slightly as he set the vase on the edge of the sink.

No, he was nervous.

He filled it halfway with cool water from the tap, then turned back to the bouquet. One stem at a time. He didn’t know what he was doing – not really. He hadn’t brought flowers to anyone in years. Probably never like this.

He picked up the scissors and started cutting.

Snip.

Too high. 

Snip.

He shifted his grip, tried again. His fingers weren’t steady, but he took his time, lining each stem up before trimming it at an angle. The act gave his hands something to do — something small and careful and quiet. And maybe that was why he did it.

God, what the fuck am I doing?

When the last stem was cut, he slipped the flowers into the vase. Adjusted them. Adjusted them again. One of the lilies had bent slightly — he turned it, trying to get it to face the light.

He wiped the vase down with his sleeve, cleaned up the sink, and carried everything back down the hall.

When he reentered your room, you were still propped in bed, eyes half-lidded like maybe you’d dozed off. But the moment he stepped in, you looked up again.

That same look. The one that never failed to take his breath away.

Aki moved slowly, crossed the room in a few quiet steps, and placed the vase on the windowsill – not too close to the edge, but where it could catch the afternoon light. It hit the glass and scattered across the water. The flowers looked better in the sun. Alive. Fragile.

He turned to face you.

You watched him, not speaking. Your fingers rested loosely on the edge of the blanket, the gauze at your neck stark against your skin. There was a single IV drip to your right, ticking slow.

He meant to say something — anything.

But the words caught somewhere behind his teeth.

Show her the earring, He willed himself. 

Slowly, uncertainly, he reached into his pocket and produced the tiny ziploc baggie he’d kept stashed away in his pocket all morning. The one that held a tiny gold earring with a tiny pearl charm – the earring you’d lost.

And, fuck, the way your eyes brightened at the sight of it���

“You found it,” you breathed, eyes wide. Your voice was still soft, still hoarse from earlier, but the brightness in it nearly floored him. “I thought it was gone.”

He coughed, glanced down at the floor, then back at you. “It was near the… bench. Must’ve fallen out during the scuffle.”

Your smile crept slow and warm across your lips, and it knocked something loose in his chest.

“Thank you,” you said, gaze fixed on the tiny piece of gold. Then, after a pause: “Can you put it in for me?”

Aki froze.

Can you put it in for me?

Get your mind out of the fucking gutter.

His fingers went still around the plastic bag. The room felt smaller.

You tilted your head just slightly — exposing the soft line of your neck, the sweep of your hair pulled back behind your ear. It was damp in places, curled faintly at the tips. You looked… not well, no, but beautiful in a way that made his stomach twist. Soft and bare and open in a way you didn’t even seem aware of.

And you were asking him to touch you.

“Sure,” he said, quietly. He cleared his throat, tried again, steadier. “Yeah. Of course.”

He stepped forward, holding the bag carefully. Your eyes followed his every move.

Aki crouched beside the bed, knees cracking slightly under the strain. His hands were steady, but only just. He opened the bag, pulled the earring free between two fingers. It caught the light, casting a faint glint across your collarbone.

“I might be a little clumsy,” he murmured. “Don’t judge me.”

“I won’t,” you said, voice like breath. “I trust you.”

Holy shit. He nearly dropped it right then.

He reached up – slowly, carefully – and touched your earlobe with his thumb to steady it. Your skin was much, much warmer than he expected. He was so damn close, he could feel the pulse in your neck, see the faint flutter of your lashes.

You didn’t move. Didn’t blink. For a moment, he didn’t either.

He slid the post through the hole with a slow, practiced motion, and his knuckle brushed the curve of your jaw. The moment was small – technically innocent – but it jolted through him like electricity.

Fuck, I’m going crazy.

“It’s in,” he said, withdrawing his hand.

Your eyes were still on him. Unmoving. It was enough to make him self-conscious.

This is so wrong.

The earring sat perfectly in place. Like it had never been missing.

“You really found it,” you whispered.

He shrugged, looked anywhere but your face. “I can’t take all the credit. I had some help from my roommates.”

There was a long pause — the silence thick with something neither of you wanted to name.

You tilted your head again, just slightly. “You always do things like this?”

“Like what?”

“Keep pieces of people you’re not supposed to care about?”

His breath caught.

He met your eyes then. Really met them.

You weren’t smiling anymore.

Neither was he.

But god, the air between you – it was burning now. Not loud or obvious, but slow, like coals under ash. Just the weight of your gaze, the scent of lilies from the vase behind him, the trace warmth of your skin still on his fingers.

“He was mad at me, you know… After,” You broke the silence.

“Mad?” He repeated, still awfully careful to not upset you.

“He didn’t say it like that, but I could tell,” You sighed, “He didn’t like that I followed you out there. Thought it was reckless.”

Aki couldn’t help the frown that settled over his face, tugging his lips down at the corners, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not,” You shrugged, “But I think he blames me anyway. He said I was lucky you were there.”

Aki could only blink, dumbfounded, “Did he?”

“I think I embarrassed him,” You added, “But I don’t feel embarrassed at all. I feel… safe.”

I’m going to lose my fucking mind in here.

Feeling an awful lot like an animal in a cage, Aki balled his fist up at his sides. He didn’t move – couldn’t move. “I was just doing my job.”

That damned smile was back on your pretty face again, “I saw your face after. You looked like… like you were scared.”

Then, much softer, Aki sighed, “I was.”

“For me?” You asked, like you were surprised that he even cared.

And, truthfully, he didn’t know why he cared.

“Yeah,” He replied.

But he could no longer deny it – he did. 

More than he probably should.

Aki decided that he was losing his fucking mind. Standing in his office, shifting his weight from side to side, his gaze was cast outside of the window – onto the busy streets of Tokyo below. To his left, Denji was droning on about some bullshit he couldn’t give less of a rat’s ass about – something about how he was definitely gonna get a smooch out of Miss Makima at the upcoming Public Safety ball, the one Aki had been dreading. His blue eyes scanned the streets for pedestrians, for cars, for anything that could take his mind off of you.

But, alas, the world had a cruel way of torturing him.

Aki stood at the window, his eyes scanning the busy streets below, but his mind was miles away — lost in the thought of you. The way you smiled at him. The softness in your eyes. The way his chest tightened just thinking about how screwed he was. He had no business feeling this way, but the fact that he couldn’t shake it only made everything worse.

Denji’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts with a sharp, “Hey, you good? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Aki blinked and straightened up. His throat tightened, but he quickly masked it. “Nothing,” he muttered, waving it off as if it was nothing. “Just... thinking.”

Denji narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it. “Someone on your mind?”

Aki’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t let it show. He snapped back a little too quickly, trying to deflect the conversation. “Do you want to walk home?” he asked, his tone sharper than he intended.

Denji fell silent for a moment – a blissful, beautiful moment – clearly taken aback by the sudden shift, but he didn’t press further. Not for long, anyway. Aki could hear him grinning already.

“Well, whatever,” Denji said, shrugging as he leaned back in his chair. “Guess I’ll stop asking. But you are missing out. I’ve been practicing my moves for Miss Makima at the ball. She’s gonna love it.”

Aki looked over at him, a heavy sigh escaping him as he watched Denji try – and fail – to waltz, dramatically flinging his arms around. Aki’s lip curled into a smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Aki muttered, rolling his eyes. He turned away again, trying to block out the ridiculous sight of his roommate prancing around.

But it was no use.

He could see it already – his mind’s eye playing out the scene with you instead. 

A slow waltz in a dimly lit ballroom. The soft brush of your fingers against his. The way you’d look up at him, and that soft, trusting smile of yours. It was all too easy to imagine, and far too fucking tempting.

He shook his head violently, trying to rid himself of the image. Focus, he told himself. Focus on something else.

Aki scrubbed the last of the plates in the sink, the warm water steaming against his skin as he methodically rinsed off the remnants of their late dinner. The kitchen was quiet, the faint clink of ceramic the only sound cutting through the silence. Denji was on the couch, not bothering to clean up after himself, as usual, his eyes glued to the TV. It was late – later than Aki had intended to stay up. 

“Hey,” Aki called over his shoulder, glancing at Denji as he dried his hands on the dish towel, “I’m going out for a smoke.”

Denji mumbled something incoherent in response, probably too distracted by whatever nonsense was on the screen to care. Aki didn’t blame him.

He grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door and stepped outside. The cool night air hit his skin immediately, refreshing, but it didn’t quite chase away the tightness in his chest. The cigarette between his fingers felt like a small relief, even though he knew it wouldn’t fix what was bothering him.

Before he knew it, there was a lit cigarette pinched between his index and middle finger, pressed right up against his lips. A nasty habit, he knew, but it was one he couldn’t shake.

He started walking without any particular destination in mind, his feet moving of their own accord. It wasn’t like he was planning on going anywhere specific — but somehow, he found himself heading down the quiet street toward your house.

It was stupid. It was reckless. He knew it. But here he was, as usual, walking toward a place that seemed to hold a gravitational pull over him.

And there you were. Sitting on the porch outside, completely at ease, cutting fruit. The soft glow from the porch light illuminated you in a way that made everything else fade away. You had on a pink nightgown, this time – a lacy one that he felt he was unworthy of seeing. It was cold out, and he couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered down to your chest, the peaks of your nipples that just barely poked through the fabric, before glancing back up to your face. 

Behave, he reminded himself.

You were focused on the task, oblivious to his presence, and for a moment, Aki just stood there, watching you.

It wasn’t until you noticed him, in fact, that you called his name. “Captain Hayakawa.”

Fuck, I’ll never get over the way my name sounds coming from her mouth, he thought. 

“You’re up late,” He commented – and, really, it was rich coming from him. “What are you doing outside?”

“Can’t sleep,” Was all you said before returning to your fruit-cutting mission. “My husband is upset with me. He didn’t like dinner.”

I would like anything you made me, Aki thought, but decided that it would be better to shut the hell up about it. Instead, he offered a half-hearted, “That so?”

You shrugged, “Not a big deal.”

Sounds like a big deal to me.

“I don’t think I’m very good at that sort of thing,” You continued – more abashedly, this time, “Being a housewife.”

Then, you laughed – a sweet, melodic sound. It reminded him of your pet birds, the ones that sang into the wee hours of the morning. He concluded that he would do whatever it took to make you make that sound again, even though, reasonably, it was none of his business. Still, there was something here – that much he couldn’t deny. There was something that lingered in the air whenever the two of you spoke, something like a magnet that kept drawing the two of you closer and closer together. He couldn’t help the way he felt about you, truly, and something about the way you peered up at him through those pretty lashes of yours told him that he wasn’t the only one who felt nervous.

Still, you were a married woman. There was no way that anything more could come from these small interactions. No matter how deeply he read into things, none of it changed the fact that you already had a man. 

You were already spoken for.

He squinted at you, bringing the end of the cigarette up to his lips and letting the smoke fill his mouth. “You don’t strike me as someone who’s bad at anything.”

You laughed again, and he had to pat himself on the back. “You don’t know me.”

No, I don’t, he thought. But I would like to.

He could get used to the sight of you – that was the most frightening part. He could get used to the way your pretty, rosy lips formed the sound of his name, the way you listened earnestly, head tilting to the side whenever he said something worth noting. He could get used to you.

Still, getting to know you would be a pleasure he would never know. You were married. To his subordinate, nonetheless.

“Maybe not. Just calling it how I see it,” He answered back, and the words felt dry on the back of his tongue, like there was so much more that he wanted to say and no way to say it. He took another puff, blew it out. The warmth of the cigarette rivaled the warmth in his cheeks, “There’s a Public Safety thing going on… a ball, later this week. You going?”

He had no right to know, honestly – let alone a right to ask.

“Yeah,” You answered. You dropped the last slice of the peach you had been cutting into the bowl on your lap. Then, tentatively, you reached for another. Your hands, gentle and small, like the porcelain fingers of a doll, looked like something he wouldn’t have minded holding. “He wants me to go.”

Her husband, right. He thought. The one that could come out here any minute now and see his wife talking to his Captain in the middle of the night.

“Figured,” He tilted his head back, craning it up to the ceiling, then blowing a spout of smoke up into the chilly air. 

You tilted your head to the side in that adorable way of yours, “What about you?”

“I don’t really have a choice,” he answered honestly, and, really, it was true. He was expected to come to those kinds of things. It would be seen as a sign of disrespect if he didn’t. While, under any other circumstances, he would have preferred to be in bed early, he figured that he wouldn’t mind going if it meant that he got to see you. Not even to talk – to watch, to observe, to admire. He would be okay with that alone. 

“Do you ever?” You asked him, “Captains don’t usually get out of things like that easily, do they?”

He huffed out something between a sigh and a laugh, “Rarely.”

“It’s formal, right?”

“Yeah,” He added, “Dinner, speeches, dancing… the whole nine yards.”

Truthfully, he’d been dreading it before you rolled into town. A while earlier, and he would have thought of nothing more than how insufferable some of his coworkers were – especially with a little liquor in their system. He’d resigned himself to standing off to the side all night with a drink in hand, avoiding eye contact and waiting for it all to be over.

But now?

Now, all he could think about was you.

You – in some quiet, elegant dress that clung to your frame just enough to keep him staring longer than he should. Your cheeks, a little flushed from wine or champagne, glowing under the lights. Your lips painted something soft, something subtle, something that would undo him if he looked too long.

He imagined the way you'd move – not rehearsed or polished, but easy. The way you'd laugh when your heel caught the floor, or when your husband’s hand led you into a turn too fast. He imagined you being spun in a slow waltz, the skirt of your dress fanning out just slightly, your eyes catching his for half a second too long across the ballroom.

Fuck, he was screwed.

“Do you know how to dance?” He found the words slipping out before he could stop them.

“I learned the waltz in school. Ages ago. I doubt I remember any of it, though. Why?” You gazed off somewhere in the distance, like the question took you back. He wished he could see into your mind, see what occupied it. 

See if he was on your mind nearly as much as you were on his.

“Just curious,” He admitted, flicking some of the ash from his cigarette into the bush. “It was a stupid… thing.”

Great conversational skills, Hayakawa.

He watched you carefully through the corner of his eye, almost afraid to meet your gaze head-on. You were still slicing fruit like you hadn’t noticed the way his hands were trembling slightly, like you couldn’t hear the quiet wreckage inside his chest.

The tension shifted – not thick, not heavy – just… different. Softer, maybe. Or sharper. He couldn’t really tell.

“I also have a stupid thing to tell you,” you said at last, voice barely louder than the night air between you. “I keep thinking about when you visited me at the hospital. I guess I… enjoyed it.”

And just like that, the floor tilted beneath him.

Fuck.

His breath caught somewhere behind his ribs. He felt like someone had hooked a hand into his sternum and pulled. Every coherent thought was flattened by the sound of your voice, by your honesty, by the impossible fact that maybe you’d thought about him, too.

Enjoyed it? Enjoyed him?

He stared straight ahead, afraid that if he looked at you, his face would betray just how undone he felt. Betray what you did to him.

Then, so casually it made his head spin, you added, “Here, take a peach. They’re good for smokers.”

He blinked down at the fruit you held out to him. His hand moved on autopilot, reaching for it. Your fingers brushed his – just barely – and he swore it fucking lit something on fire beneath his skin.

He brought the peach to his lips, but forgot to bite. You had no idea what you’d done to him.

Or maybe you did, and that was even worse.

Still, he knew better. He knew better. He should say thank you and walk away. He should forget this ever happened.

Instead, the words slipped past his restraint.

“All day long,” he said, voice hoarse. “I think about you all day long.” He paused. His throat was dry. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be saying this.”

There it was – the confession. Small, broken, way too fucking real.

He expected silence. Or discomfort. But when he dared to glance at you, your hands had stilled their cutting, and you were staring at the peach like you were trying to remember how to breathe.

What the hell was wrong with him?

She’s married, his mind screamed. She’s off-limits. 

And yet, he couldn’t take it back.

Fuck.

I’m a fucking idiot.

You turned toward him slowly, the knife stilled mid-slice, juice clinging to your fingers. Your hair shifted ever so slightly with the movement, catching the moonlight just right — soft and iridescent. Something flickered behind your lashes, unreadable. Vulnerable. Dangerous.

“That’s not stupid,” you whispered.

The words slipped between you like a thread pulled taut.

Aki forgot how to breathe. Just for a second – no longer – but long enough that he felt his chest hitch beneath his ribs. The air around him thinned, turned hot despite the night breeze. You weren’t looking at him anymore, not really – your eyes were cast somewhere to the side, like you were nervous to hold his gaze, but still, he felt pierced by the sheer weight of it.

He felt it again, that thing in his chest blooming fast and reckless – like fire catching on dry brush. It wasn’t welcome. It wasn’t safe. But it was there all the same, climbing higher into his throat, pressing in from every side.

God, he thought. I’m so fucked.

What was he supposed to do with that? With you sitting there on your porch with your fruit and your pretty nightgown and your quiet honesty, like you didn’t know you’d just upended his whole fucking day?

No. Not just his day. You’d tilted something inside him – Something he’d worked hard to keep buried. He wasn’t supposed to want things – not like this. Not soft, domestic, impossible things, and certainly not married things.

Then you looked at the lighter in his hand – his stupid, scratched-up lighter, the one Himeno left him – and the air shifted again.

“Your lighter. It’s nice.”

He blinked, momentarily thrown. “Yeah?” he said, trying not to sound as shaken as he felt. “You like it?”

You nodded once, gently as all hell.

Something possessive flickered in him. Not in the ugly way – more in the I-want-to-give-you-everything kind of way. He didn’t even think twice before pressing it into your hand.

“Take it,” he said.

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“I want you to have it,” he said again, lower this time. His voice felt too soft, too full. “Really.”

You took it slowly, fingertips grazing his as you accepted the little rectangle. You turned it over in your palm, thoughtful. “Okay,” you whispered. “Thank you, Captain.”

Captain

He should’ve let it end there.

But your voice, saying his title like that – formal and warm and intimate.

“…Aki,” he said, pulse loud in his ears. “Just Aki.”

You looked up at him, still holding the lighter.

“Aki,” you repeated, quiet as a promise.

And damn it all, he wanted to hear you say it again.

Aki dreamt of something pleasant for the first time that night. He dreamt of you.

The morning sun crept lazily across the floor, pooling in soft gold near his feet, but Aki didn’t move right away. He stood in the center of the living room, the coffee on the table growing cold, the silence stretching thick around him. The apartment was still. Too still.

He should’ve been getting dressed. Polished shoes. Starched collar. But instead… He was thinking about you.

The way you’d smiled last night when he asked if you knew how to dance. The soft laugh you gave when you said you’d learned back in high school – a half-shy little thing, like you were embarrassed to admit it.

The image hit him before he could stop it. You in a dress, something soft and clinging, swaying with the turn of a waltz. Your hand in his. 

He exhaled through his nose, Delusional. That’s what this was. Stupid, dangerous, completely inappropriate. But it didn’t stop the vision from burning behind his eyes.

And before he could think better of it, Aki shifted his weight. Moved his left foot forward. Then his right, side-step. One-two-three. One-two-three.

He found himself tracing the steps slowly across the floor, the echo of your imagined laugh haunting his ears. His fingers flexed, like they could feel your hand in his already. One turn. One pause. The gentle rhythm of a song that wasn’t even playing. Something in him ached at the thought of holding you like that – of having you close, even for a single dance, even if he knew it would be inappropriate.

Aki stepped again, more sure this time. A full circle. A spin that was almost graceful.

And then…

“Are you seriously dancing right now?”

The voice came to him like the sound of nails on a board.

Aki froze mid-step. Slowly turned.

Denji was standing in the hallway, shirtless, hair a mess, holding a half-eaten rice ball in one hand and gawking like he’d walked in on a crime scene.

Aki’s jaw tightened. “No.”

Denji squinted. “Bro, you were spinning.”

“It was stretching,” Aki said flatly.

“Oh yeah? That what you call it now?”

Aki reached for his coffee, brushing past him with a glare. “I’d shut up if you didn’t want me telling Miss Makima what I found on the computer after you used it.”

Denji made a dramatic zipping motion across his mouth.

Aki hated balls. Just as he suspected, this one was painfully dull. Though the scenery was nice – a lush ballroom with golden chandeliers over marble floors – he stood off to the side, in his usual spot. In his hand, he nursed his fourth glass of whiskey. He was only half-interested in the conversation he was engaged in – one with two commanders from Kyoto and Osaka and the Chief. 

“I’m telling you,” the Kyoto commander was saying, “--we’ve tracked three of the Devil traces to that northern corridor. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Gun Devil’s proxy is using the route for something.”

“Could be a trafficking line,” the Osaka one chimed in. “But it’s strange. Too clean. No collateral. Makes you think it’s either something new or someone’s gotten smarter.”

Aki nodded slowly, letting his gaze drift across the ballroom. He didn’t offer much in response. He’d heard it all before – theories, scraps of intel, half-assed leads that led nowhere. More often than not, it was just noise.

The Chief chuckled and sipped from his brandy glass. “That’s the thing about these bastards. They evolve. Just when you think you’ve cornered them, they slip right out of your hands.”

Aki hummed in agreement, eyes settling on the entrance of the ballroom as the doors opened.

His stomach dropped as you walked in.

And even with your husband beside you, your arm loosely hooked around his – you had the presence of someone who didn’t belong in any man’s shadow. He thought – briefly, of course – that you would look much better next to him.

What? 

The dress you wore was bold. A deep neckline that clung to your figure, hugging curves he had no fucking business looking at. It was a risky choice, especially for someone like you – soft-spoken, reserved, the kind who rarely wore anything that drew attention. But tonight, you were the center of attention.

Well, his, anyway.

Your husband placed a guiding hand on the small of your back, possessive in its casualness. Aki’s jaw tensed when he saw you gently brush it off. 

He felt a strange sort of satisfaction about it.

The Chief caught sight of you and broke into a wide, indulgent grin. “Well, well,” he said, loud enough for Aki to want to sink through the floor. “Look at this. The belle of the ball herself.”

You approached with a small, polite smile that didn’t touch your eyes. Aki’s grip tightened slightly around his glass. Oh, God.

“Goddamn,” the Chief added, eyes dragging a little too slowly across your silhouette. “Where on earth did you find her?” He slapped your husband’s shoulder with a laugh. “She’s got poise.”

Nakamura laughed along stiffly, adjusting his collar. “She cleans up nice.”

“Do you dance?” the Chief asked, this time addressing you directly. “You’ve got the look of someone who knows how to waltz.”

There was a beat. You glanced – just for a moment – in Aki’s direction.

And it was enough to ruin him.

He straightened slightly, chest tightening beneath his suit. He couldn't look away. Is it hot in here?

Your gaze drifted back to the Chief. “I learned once,” you said softly, “in high school.”

The same thing you’d told him earlier that week.

The Chief grinned wider. “Well then, may I?”

The question wasn’t directed at you. It was directed at your husband.

Misogynistic asshole.

I have to save her. He wanted to say something – had to – but it was the Chief, and you were certainly not his to publicly defend.

Aki spoke, sharp and sudden. “Chief – about the proxy route. You mentioned something about the tracing going quiet near the border district?”

It was transparent, even to himself, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted the attention off of you.

The Chief turned his head, barely. “Mm?” Then he laughed, eyes still on you. “Later, Hayakawa.”

Fuck.

Your husband leaned down, whispered something low and clipped in your ear. Aki couldn’t hear what it was, but he saw the way your jaw clenched, the twitch in your brow, and he knew it was something harsh. Still, you turned toward the Chief and nodded.

“I’d be honored,” you said.

The Chief extended his hand. You took it.

Aki felt his stomach sink as the two of you stepped onto the floor. Your husband watched with a smug sort of pride, satisfied.

If you were mine, I would never let another man talk to you that way.

Aki didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until he forced himself to look away.

The string quartet picked up.

And then you moved.

It wasn’t the Chief’s lead that made the dance beautiful—it was you. Even with your expression unreadable, even when your hand rested lightly in his, you glided like you belonged in a painting. Light caught in the curve of your neck, spilled along the exposed line of your shoulders, and Aki… 

Aki felt like he couldn’t fucking breathe.

Then your gaze lifted, and it found him.

He froze.

You weren’t smiling. You weren’t coy. 

No, you looked at him like he was the only thing tethering you to this place. Eyes wide. Helpless. A wordless plea passed between you, like maybe, if he were braver, he’d storm over and take you away from all of it.

But he couldn’t.

Your husband stood nearby, watching with a drink in his hand and a lazy, smug grin. As if this was all some game he was already winning, as if he were content with selling you out as long as it meant he would get on the Chief’s good side.

Aki's grip on his glass tightened. His chest twisted.

I can’t take this.

He turned on his heel, cut through the crowd, shoved open the first door he could find.

The bathroom was empty, quiet, too white. Too bright. He staggered to the sink and braced himself on the edge, setting his glass to the side.

God, help me, he thought. He was lost – gone beyond reprieve.

Cold water. That’s all he could do. Cold water to his face, again and again, like it might rinse you out of his system. He ran the faucet on its highest settings, cupped his hands beneath it, and splashed the water onto his face. It was brisk, it was refreshing, but it did nothing to calm the incessant thought of you.

He gripped the edge of the sink, chest rising and falling too fast, too sharp. The cold water dripped from his chin, down his collar, and into the front of his shirt, but he didn’t move to wipe it. Didn’t even look at himself in the mirror. Just kept his eyes down, his knuckles pale against porcelain, breathing like he’d run a mile uphill.

He had no right to feel this way.

You weren’t his.

You’d never been his.

And yet – the sight of you, in that dress, in someone else’s arms, looking at him like you wanted him to do something, anything – it had twisted something inside him so hard it still hadn’t let go. He was pathetic. Weak. He didn’t even have the spine to look away when he should’ve, let alone stop it from happening.

The room tilted just slightly, the floor seeming to slope beneath his feet.

Probably the alcohol, he thought. He hadn’t had much, but he hadn’t eaten either, and his head swam just enough to make the edges blur.

If Himeno were here…

She’d slap the back of his head. Tell him to get his shit together. Maybe hand him a glass of water and a cigarette, call him an idiot for letting a girl and a couple of neat whiskeys undo him like this. And she’d be right.

He thought of your face again. The way your eyes found him across the ballroom, wide and unreadable, the way you looked like you wanted to be anywhere else but in that man’s hands. And the worst part?

He couldn’t do a goddamn thing to fix it.

He stayed like that for a moment, maybe longer, just breathing through it, willing the ache in his chest to dull, willing the image of you to go the hell away.

And then, after what had to have been a few minutes too long, the door creaked open.

Aki didn’t move. Didn’t lift his head. But his entire body went still.

He looked up slowly, eyes flicking to the mirror. And there you were.

His breath caught.

You weren’t supposed to be here. Not now. Not when he was trying so hard to forget the way you looked at him out on that dance floor. Not when he was still reeling from the sight of your husband’s hand on your back. Not when every instinct in his body was screaming at him to stay the hell away.

But you didn’t stop. You came closer.

Closer.

His pulse climbed with every step you took. You stood in front of him now, the space between your bodies taut with unspoken things. Your perfume was subtle — something soft and sweet that made his head swim. You tilted your head slightly, like you were about to say something, but the words never came.

Just that look.

Open. Waiting.

And then – God help him, like a magnet was strapped to his chest – he leaned in.

God, you were intoxicating.

He told himself it was nothing. Just a shift of weight. Just curiosity.

But when your breath mingled with his, soft and warm and so very close, his composure crumbled. His restraint, already threadbare, snapped entirely the moment you stood up on the tips of your toes, until your mouth brushed against his.

It wasn’t a clean kiss. It was probably muddied by the copious amounts of alcohol in his system, but it was real. It knocked the breath from his lungs.

And, fuck, you kissed him back. The way you kissed him – slowly, like you’d been imagining it – made something inside him break. His hands found your waist, tentative at first, until your fingers curled in the fabric of his coat and tugged him closer.

I feel like an animal.

Then it changed. The kiss deepened. Grew desperate, and he lost control of himself entirely. 

He slid his hands up your sides, palms gliding over the curve of your back, and the high-pitched noise you made against his mouth nearly brought him to his knees. It was something like a whimper. He pressed you gently, but firmly, back against the sink, breath warm, heart hammering, mouth grazing yours again and again, like he couldn’t get enough of you, and fuck, he really couldn’t.

She’s kissing me. She’s kissing me. The thought bloomed in his mind, disbelieving, delirious.

And God, she tastes so fucking good.

The warmth of you. The way you felt against him. It was too much. 

It was everything.

He wanted to stay there forever, in that suspended moment where none of it mattered. Where the only thing that existed was the feel of your body under his hands, the flutter of your breath, the soft, almost pained sound you made when he kissed you just a little deeper, a little harder.

But then– your hands. On his chest.

He paused.

You broke the kiss, slowly. As if neither of you really wanted it to end.

You looked up at him, dazed. Eyes wide, lips parted, breath shaky. His own heart was threatening to beat out of his chest.

And just like that, you were gone.

You slipped out from his arms without a word, leaving him cold and dry. Just a final glance at him over your shoulder, something swimming in your eyes that he desperately wanted to understand.

Tell me you need me. Tell me you need me the way I need you.

But, no, instead, the door clicked shut behind you.

Aki stood frozen. The space you’d left behind was still impossibly warm.

Then, with a harsh breath, he dropped his head to the sink, groaning.

Fuck my life.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. He hadn’t even meant to kiss you. He’d meant to stop it. Really.

But the moment had swallowed him whole – your mouth, your hands, the heat of your skin beneath his palms. It had felt like falling, and maybe he hadn’t tried hard enough not to. 

Hell, maybe he didn’t want to.

He stood there a while. Just breathing. Replaying all of it – the sound you made against his mouth, the way you’d looked up at him when it broke apart, like something had cracked open between you.

He could still feel your lips on his.

Still feel your body under his hands.

Still feel the loss of it.

When he finally staggered out of the bathroom, he barely registered the crowd. The music had changed to something slower now, richer. Candlelight flickered against polished floors.

He walked like he was sleepwalking, caught somewhere between a dream and reality, adjusting his tie with a hand that still shook. But he made it back to the main floor. Back to his usual spot, where the chief was already mid-conversation with the same higher-ups from Kyoto and Osaka.

And your husband.

Of course.

You stood beside him, calm and perfect, looking like something out of a fucking oil painting. Your hair was swept just-so, your cheeks dusted with a pink hue, and your expression – demure, unreadable – gave no hint of what had just happened only a few minutes earlier in the marble bathroom down the hall.

You didn’t look at him, and that was worse somehow. 

Aki felt like someone had hollowed him out and left him standing there with a drink in his hand, pretending.

The chief caught sight of him and waved him over with that wide, boisterous smile of his. “Ah, Hayakawa. We were just talking about heading out for drinks next week.”

Your husband chuckled and clapped a hand on one of the other men’s shoulders. “Yeah, I told the old man I’d come, and then I remembered I’d already promised my wife we’d go out that night. So I’ll just bring her along.” He grinned at you, clearly amused with himself. “She won’t mind.”

God, he’s such an asshole. Aki swallowed, but it stuck somewhere halfway down.

“Bring someone if you want,” your husband added. “A lady friend, or something. Could be fun.”

He glanced at you. You didn’t return his gaze.

Aki’s jaw clenched. He could treat you better. He wouldn’t humiliate you in front of a room full of people. Wouldn’t make you feel invisible – like an accessory to someone else’s night.

He’d remember your plans. He would never complain about your cooking.

He would actually listen to what you liked – what you needed.

But instead, all he could do was stand there, pretending he was just another man with a glass in his hand and nothing at stake. Pretending the way your husband put an arm around you didn’t kill him a little bit inside.

Pretending he wasn’t head over heels for you and that damned smile of yours.

a/n: oh my god i was so obsessed with this movie when i saw it. i would highly suggest you all watch it - its on tubi! i will say that the sex scenes are... ridiculously graphic, but i digress. this fanfic actually WILL BE SHORT i swear.... i have it planned out LMFAOOAOAO!!!! i wanted to slip you all a lil smth extra to make up for my negligence to post the pornstar chapter lol. please let me know your wants/likes/comments, as always, and i'll see you lovelies next time! muah!!!

credits: I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @mrshayakawaa , @xxpr3ttyk173rxx

wanna join the taglist? | for your love ; chapter index

[rubylarkspur22]

Well, now that I have finally watched season 4 in full, I eagerly await the movie trilogy!

In the meantime, have this lovely drawing of Nezuko giving Muzan the glare that means he's solidly in the Find Out stage of FA&FO.

[call-me-copycat]

I just need to be told "You Can Do It" right now.

[risingsunresistance]

love the keyboard this desktop came with even tho it's gonna take a lot of getting used to (i am making So Many typos) but i think i might need a new mouse. i have tiny baby hands and this mouse is literally bigger than my hand, i feel like i can barely click it KJGFH

[spikeisawesome456]

.

[techmomma]

Facts about your body after you turn 25, AKA things I wish someone had told me:

you will get hair in fun new places. this is normal and fine.

these places include (but are not limited to) if you don't already have them: your asscrack, your back, your ears, and moles. it's fine.

some of you, dick or not, will also lose hair. this is normal, but also if you have ovaries maybe get this checked out for PCOS.

your acne will probably change. some people get better. some people get worse. it's fine.

your nails will probably get an infection or a fungus at least once in your life. this is fine. (but also let your doc know).

how you gain and lose fat and where you do so will change. this is fine.

how you smell will change. this is fine. (fishy or rotten smells mean doctor time though)

if you have a prostate: it gets harder to pee. prostates enlarge as you age (get this checked regularly). this is fine.

if you do not have a prostate: it gets easier to pee but not in a good way. as in as you get older, your pelvic floor muscles tend to lose some of their strength. this makes it harder to keep pee in. this is fine.

all breasts and pectorals eventually sag, with the rest of your body. this is fine.

a decent percent of the population will experience a cyst at least once. some of you will make up for the rest with multiple. this is fine, but keep them checked out by a doctor. (sometimes this is a condition! get checked for that too!)

almost half of everyone gets hemorrhoids. it's a good idea to just expect them since your chances of getting them get higher the older you are. your toilet will look like a murder scene. definitely get your booty checked out BUT this is almost always perfectly normal. just eat more fiber. "but I already-" eat more fiber. and maybe suck it up and buy some hemorrhoid cream, you'll thank me later.

yes, this means you will probably need to make an appointment for a doctor to see your butthole. it's okay. not only do they really not care but 1. they've seen weirder that day and 2. they'd far rather you see them now than later when it's been going on for forty years and now it might be colon cancer. it's okay. consider it a rite of passage.

adults need more sleep than children. don't believe the myth that you need less than they do. that is capitalist propaganda to make you give up more of your life to the work grind, comrade.

vitamins and medicine, something you are more likely to take as you get older, sometimes make the toilet turn weird colors. it's okay.

if you still have your tonsils and get those little stones and get sore throats more than once a year you should plan on getting those suckers out before the tonsils cause an infection and go septic. if you're getting stones at all you should get those reevaluated every year, especially if the stones are bigger than a needlehead (or get bigger over time). it's gross and yucky. I don't care. get them looked at before you end up in the hospital.

you'll probably need to add foot support to your shoes if you don't already do. this is fine.

your body changes. sometimes it can feel sorta weird and upsetting that it isn't what it used to be. that is okay, and it is okay to be upset. just know that this is normal, it's normal to be upset or not upset, but don't let it hinder your quality of life. trans or cis, there is a certain level of acceptance you just gotta give your body and forgive your body for as you get older. it's okay.

it's okay. I promise.

[exopelagic]

I know the world is cruel because I finally wanna draw again and yet I am forced to pack :(

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

flowers 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

Summary: y/n gets flowers for lando after every podium and win he's had in 2024.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ln x reader ִ ࣪𖤐

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ fluff ִ ࣪𖤐

masterlist ☾☼

"what's your favourite flower?"

"hm?"

"what's your favourite flower?"

"don't have one,"

"why not?"

"never got any flowers,"

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

australia p3 - daffodils [new beginnings]

the start of the season was decent, according to lando. getting his first podium of the season was good. he was proud of it, of course he was. and to celebrate with one of his closest friends on the top step was even more special.

the car was getting better, but he knew there was a lot more still left to do. his mechanics had told him, had explained to him that it's difficult, and it's all theoretical. lando understood that. it wasn't necessary that the car that would be faster in theory would work practically as well. but, lando tried his best to give as much feedback as he could.

he was sticky with champagne, and after all the media duties and celebrations, he just wanted to escape. he wanted to escape to his driver room, and call his girlfriend and maybe his mum as well.

"good race, man," one of his mechanics congratulated him as he walked to his driver's room.

"thanks, mate," lando responded, smiling, and clapping his hand against the others in a bro handshake thing.

it didn't have a name.

finally reaching his driver room, lando opened the door and stopped short.

on the table in the corner had a bouquet of flowers. flowers he had never seen before in person. flowers he hadn't ordered, and knew jon wouldn't order for him.

slowly, he walked closer to the bouquet, and picked up the card hidden in the flowers.

"for your first podium of 2024, it's a new beginning. i love you. y/n <3"

lando smiled, a bright, shining smile. he'd just received flowers. for possibly the first time ever. immediately finding his phone, he video called his girlfriend.

"hi, baby! congratulations!" she said immediately as she answered the call.

"thank you for the flowers, my love," lando said softly, still admiring the flowers.

"they're daffodils! do you like them?"

"they're absolutely beautiful,"

she smiled, and it filled lando with a warm feeling. "i'm glad,"

lando sat on the little bench, craddling the bouquet against his chest like it was the podium trophy, and the two lost themselves in conversations and laughter and love.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

china p2 - iris [hope]

his second podium of the season. lando wasn't feeling particularly confident. with himself or the car. he knew that there was still a long way to go. the car felt a little alive, but nearly not enough for winning races.

he finished almost 14 seconds behind max, and that didn't make him feel very good from the team perspective. sure, it was important points he got for the wcc, but again, not nearly enough especially with checo coming in third, five or seconds behind him.

lando hoped that he could get mclaren in top 3 again at the very least, but he was already losing hope, and the season had just begun.

trudging back to his drivers room, lando opened the door, entering and quickly shutting it behind him. he needed some time to think, some time to himself.

as he sat down on the little bench thing, he noticed something purple and fragile peeking from his packed bag. he didn't have the energy to move, really. but something about it forced him to move.

slowly unzipping the bag, he pulled out the flowers. irises. he knew these. how? he didn't know.

his face broke into a smile again. taking the card attached, he read, "p2, baby! lfg! don't lose hope. your time will come! i love you. y/n <3"

he quickly snapped a picture, and sent it to his sleeping girlfriend, thanking her, and telling her that he would call her first thing once she was awake.

a knock on the door told him that it was time to leave, to go back to the hotel to pack, before their flight. zipping his bag up again, but keeping the flowers in his hand, lando picked up his stuff, and exited the room, still delicately holding the irises.

his beautiful, hopeful irises.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

miami p1 - lilac [first love]

oh, lando wished this feeling would never go away. it was a mix of relief and feeling proud of himself.

he was sticky with champagne, but for once, he didn't care, because, fuck, he was a race winner. he was a fucking race winner.

seven years he'd been with mclaren, and five years driving. his sixth year, he'd finally won. fucking finally won a race.

he couldn't stop smiling, couldn't stop laughing, he was so happy. so fucking happy. he was proud of himself, and he was so thankful for everyone who had stuck by him throughout his career, before f1 and during.

the celebrations were long, as they should be. his team was so happy for him, he'd spoken to his family on call in a few quiet moments, and he'd had max on a video call for most part of the celebration, desperately wishing he was there as well. aarav, niran, ria were there, but honestly, they weren't max. no one could ever be max.

this was also the race that his girlfriend had attended. he'd wanted her there, told her specifically to fly out because he had a good feeling in his gut.

and what a good feeling it was.

throughout the celebrations, lando kept her somewhere in his line of sight, needing to make sure that she was comfortable. someone had gotten her a bottle of champagne too, and every time the team sprayed him with it, she joined in on the fun, laughing with him and his team.

later, both of them sticky and smelling of champagne, they walked back to his driver room. his arm was across her shoulder, and hers was wrapped around his waist.

as soon as he opened the door, his eyes widened, "oh my god,"

y/n was looking at his expectantly, biting her lip to gauge his reaction. he slowly removed his arm from her shoulder as he walked in the two steps of space the room had left.

"oh my fucking god," he muttered, still taking it all in.

"do you like it?" she whispered.

the room was full of bouquets of lilacs, each one bright and blooming. there wasn't much space left in the room, but god, it looked so beautiful.

lando immediately turned around, wrapping his arms around her waist as he buried his head in her neck and picked her up. "i love it so much,"

her fingers were in his curls as she said, "they're lilacs. to remind you of your first love: racing."

lando pulled back from the hug, settling her down, "thank you so much. i love it. i love you. fuck, i love you," grabbing her face in his hands, he kissed her, long and slow, wanting to cherish the moment.

later on, when the two of them had changed, they slowly picked up all the bouquets, and lando handed out three stems to each of his mechanics and his engineers, and anyone who was in lando norris' team, and then gave two stems each to the rest of them. he gave four to zak, and the man had laughed and wrapped lando in another hug.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

emilia-romagna p2 - gladiolus [believing in yourself]

he was so close. fuck, he was so goddamn close to winning again. 0.752 seconds behind, he was so close.

he was happy for max v, of course he was. he was happy with p2 as well. there was no doubt in that. but, when p1 was so close, and lando knows he could've pushed just a little harder, it does settle a sense of disappointment in his gut.

with a p2 and a p4, it was a lot of points for mclaren, and as much as that excited lando, he was also afraid. he wasn't sure if he could really continue to keep performing so well, or as well as he wanted to. he wanted to go out and win, and he wanted to make his team proud, but fuck, was he good enough for it? would he ever be good enough for it?

his head was swimming with self-doubt, and it was slowly overshadowing his happiness of p2. it was annoying, and he was frustrated. he wanted to be happy about the podium, and the points, and all of that. he so desperately wanted to. but the questions, the what ifs just never stopped in his head.

opening the door to his driver room, he stopped. slowly he remembered. the flowers. his girlfriend. there was a bouquet of flowers he didn't know kept neatly in a vase. he assumed jon had done that.

removing his race suit, and quickly changing into fresher clothes, he picked up the bouquet, finding the note attached, "these are gladiolus. they're a reminder that you need to believe in your yourself. i love you. y/n <3"

lando laughed. how his girlfriend knew what was going on in his brain, he didn't know, but he was forever grateful that she was some sort of mind reader.

quickly snapping a picture and sending it to her, he hugged the flowers against his chest, wishing that she was there to hug him.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

canada p2 - poppy [strength]

lando walked into his driving room with his back still heavy from the intense race he had. the rain made it a battle to stay on the track; the visibility wasn't good, and the grip could be anywhere; the race felt like having a war with nature. still, he held steady enough to finish in p2, an impressive result if he said so himself.

as he shut the door, his eyes alighted on something that immediately threw a smile to his face. on the little table in the middle of the room was an exquisite bouquet of red poppies. the striking flowers stood out starkly against the antiseptic ambiance of the room, their radiant petals glowing brightly under the subdued lighting. alongside them rested a note.

lando stepped closer, picking up the card, and his heart gave a slight lurch when he saw her familiar handwriting.

"for your strength, my love. you showed it today, just like I know you always will. i'm so proud of you. you've got this, no matter what the track throws at you. i love you. y/n <3"

he let the words sink in, the weight of the race lightening for a moment as the warmth of her support surrounded him. the poppy—symbolizing strength, resilience, and overcoming adversity—was the perfect gesture for a race like this. the rain-soaked chaos of canada had tested him, yet here he was, with a podium finish in his grasp.

lando swept a hand back through his drenched hair, letting out an exasperated sigh as he leaned back into the wall. it wasn't just the soggy track, or the keen competition that had made the race so hard today—it was always the pressure; the little things that crept in with each lap. yet now, his hands wrapped about the bouquet before him, with her words going round in his head, gave him a deep quiet strength.

he placed the flowers gently on the windowsill, then took a minute to absorb the comfort in that gesture. she wasn't there, but somehow in that little room, she was. she was with him and reminded him of when he would go through some really tough days; he would know he was capable of holding it together.

the poppies, resplendent even in the rain, were the perfect symbol of how far he'd come—and how far he would still go.

"thanks, lovie," he whispered to the empty room, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he stared out the window at the distant lights of the circuit.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

spain p2 - orchids [remain positive]

p2 in spain. what a wonderful day. and he had managed to get the fastest lap. that, he liked the most for some reason.

he was desperate for another win. well, actually, no. he wasn't desperate for it. he wanted to win, yes, and he knew that he would have to be patient for it, and work on it himself.

the bottom line was, he wanted to win.

he trusted the car, and he trusted his team. he would get opportunities in the future, and he will be able to win, he knows that. somewhere in his brain, he knows that.

yet, sometimes, there's a little crack in that knowing. that little fear of the unknown, that what if he doesn't win again till next season? or the season after that?

no. no. that wasn't true. lando was a good driver. he was adapting to being in a fast car, but he was a good driver, and he would get another win soon. yes. that's what he needed to believe, that's what he needed to tell himself over and over again.

jon did a good job of reminding him of that too. he somehow always knew when lando's thoughts were beginning to spiral, and pulled him out before it happened. thank god for jon, really.

when he stepped off the podium, his trophy in hand, jon stood there with a bouquet of orchids. lando smiled instantly, despite the exhaustion.

lando handed the trophy to jon, and took the bouquet from him, as he was escorted to the conference room for the interviews.

he stared at his flowers, as the interview began.

"we wanted to start with max, but lando, you've captured our attention," ted kravitz started.

lando immediately looked up. "huh?"

"we see you've got some flowers. any idea who they're from or is it a secret admirer?"

lando laughed, "no, they're from my girlfriend. she gets me flowers for every podium i get,"

"kelly's never got me flowers," max added from beside him.

"yeah? she's got to step up her game, mate," lando joked.

"definitely, man. kelly, if you're watching this, i want flowers,"

the room laughed.

"they're orchids, aren't they?" lewis asked.

lando nodded, "yeah. my girlfriend said it's so that i remain positive because there's a lot more races to come,"

"that's sweet, man," lewis said, as he leaned back.

lando bit his lip, as he nodded. cause, yeah. that is sweet. his girlfriend is sweet.

"anything you want to say to your girlfriend, lando? while we're here," ted asked.

"um, just wanna thank her, really. i get more excited about the flowers now, than the trophy,"

the crowd laughed again, and the interviews shifted to max.

lando continued to stare at his orchids.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

silverstone p3 - periwinkle [home]

it was his home race. he wanted to do well in his home race. and he did. p3 was not bad. he was proud of himself, and a little disappointed for not winning, but he was much happier for lewis.

lewis had driven amazingly, and despite the fact that he was lando's competitor, lando couldn't help but applaud for him.

at the parc ferme, he met with his team, hugging them, and then hugged his girlfriend for a little longer. she had pressed a kiss to his helmet, and he winked at her.

max and he were talking when lewis came, and the two immediately congratulated the brit on his drive. lewis looked like he was about to cry, and lando wondered if he would ever feel like that, that emotion of winning at a home race.

after the podium celebrations, lando went for media duties, feeling sticky and in a desperate need of a shower. when he returned, he quickly found his girlfriend, giving her a little kiss, before promising her to be back in a few.

opening the door to his driver's room, he smiled at the bouquet kept beside his trophy. picking them up, he smiled at the periwinkles.

"periwinkles for your home race," y/n's voice was heard from behind him, and he turned around to see her leaning against the door frame.

he smiled, walking towards her, as he wrapped her in a loose hug, and said, "home is where you are, baby,"

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

hungary p2 - lotus [righteousness]

the team had fucked him over. the team had fucked him over so bad.

he didn't blame oscar. it wasn't oscar's fault. their strategy had been wrong, and they made a mistake. he was angry. he was angry at will for putting him in a position where either options felt wrong and right at the same time. he would never burst out on will, of course, and he knew he needed to control himself, but fuck fuck fuck, his team had fucked up.

lando reminded himself that he was the older driver now, the veteran. that meant it was upto him to make sure that oscar knew that the two of them were okay. and he did just that. he told oscar, showed him that there was no bad blood between the two of them, and lando wasn't mad at him.

he knew he was going to have to talk to andrea about the team orders later, but the exhaustion of the race was settling on his shoulders and he didn't want to do anything except go back home and cuddle with y/n.

that would fix everything.

after the celebrations, and the interviews, all lando wanted to do was go back to the hotel room and call y/n or max, and just rant. but, as soon as he walked in, a sort of disappointment added to the weight of his feelings already.

there was no bouquet. he'd gotten a podium. wasn't that the pattern that y/n was following? every time he got on the podium, she sent him flowers, right?

but, this time, there was nothing but one lone flower that wasn't even blooming. a deep hurt settled in his gut as he realised that maybe even his girlfriend was mad at him about the race and the way he responded with not giving oscar the position back immediately.

that somehow felt worse than the hate comments he'd been receiving on social media.

picking up the flower, he turned the card attached to it and read, "a lotus to represent the righteousness you showed on track. you did the right thing. i'm proud of you. would have been proud of you, regardless. i love you. y/n <3"

lando breathed a little easier. he let himself smile a little. she was proud of him. she thought he did the right thing. she was on his side.

how silly of him to think otherwise.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

netherlands p1 - amaryllis [to sparkle]

he did it. he did it again. yes, he lost the lead, but he got it back, and he created a 22 second gap, and he won. again.

finally.

he was happy, of course he was. though, what excited him more were the inevitable bouquet of flowers that would be in his drivers room. he couldn't wait to see what his girlfriend had chosen this time.

the trophy was huge, and it was heavy, but it was easily his favourite. the words written were all things he could relate to, and he was sure that every other driver could relate to it as well. it made him happy that there was someone out there, recognising the things they went through as sportsmen, or as a sportsperson.

excitedly, after the team celebrations, he ran to his drivers room, finding it full of flowers again, and he couldn't help but smile bigger than he already was.

it was just like miami, but this time, his girlfriend wasn't there with him. god, he missed her.

he video called her while he looked for the note, and just as he found it, her face filled his screen.

"lan!" she exclaimed, "you were so goddamn good! i'm so proud of you!"

"thank you, my lovie. hold on, i gotta read the card,"

"did you just get to the drivers room?"

lando nodded, as he flipped open the card.

it said, "hot damn, you were shining out there. some amaryllis for you to keep sparkling. i love you. y/n <3"

"y'know, this is my favourite part of getting on podiums now," lando said, as he pocketed the note.

"what? getting the flowers?" y/n joked.

"yes. getting the flowers from you." lando stared at her face on the screen, wishing he could kiss her in that moment.

"you're just saying that,"

"i'm really not," he settled on the floor, exhausted from the race, but he had a new found energy as he talked with his girlfriend. she was too excited to contain her reactions or yapping, and lando loved her more than anything to listen to every bit of it.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

italy p3 - lavender [calmness]

he didn't know what to feel. he was feeling a lot of things at the same time, and he didn't know which one to focus on first.

on one hand, he didn't blame oscar for wanting to prove himself to the world. he knew what it was like to enter the world of formula one with expectations on your shoulders that had no real reason being there. he knew that some of the fan comments had gotten to oscar, about how hungary was a gifted win and not earned on his own merit. he understood, really.

but that didn't mean that he was okay with the move he pulled on lando going into turn one. he had gotten way too close to lando's car, and if lando hadn't backed out even a little bit, the two would've crashed.

there was a championship fight on his shoulders, one that he didn't expect and didn't want. while he didn't want to win by his teammate letting him pass, he also did not expect his own teammate to pull a risky move like that.

the plan was a 1-2. they got a 2-3. it was a lot of points, but nearly not as much a 1-2 would have been.

really, lando would have been okay with only oscar had overtaken him. he would have been fine with that. what he wasn't okay with, was the fact that the move led to their competitor also overtaking them both.

that pissed him off a little bit.

he remained respectful in all the post race interviews, he praised his teammate, he did what was expected of him. he always did.

later, when he had a moment to himself in the drivers room, a knock interrupted him, and lando almost told the person to go away. he didn't want to deal with humans right now.

"lando? got something for you here," jon's voice rang.

sighing, lando stood up and opened the door. jon stood at the door, with a bouquet of lavenders in his hand.

"this got delivered for you. the delivery guy said that there was too much traffic on the way, so he couldn't get it on time, but here," jon gave the bouquet to lando before walking off.

lando stared at the flowers, as he closed the door and went back to his seat.

finding the folded note, it said, "lavenders for how calm you've been about it. good thing i wasn't there. i love oscar, i love you more. y/n <3"

lando smiled, and felt a little better. maybe a little more than just a little.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

singapore p1 - orange lilies [confidence]

lando was dizzy. singapore was always a difficult race physically, but it was always so fulfilling.

he led all 62 laps, created a 20 second gap. yes, he made some mistakes at a few places, but he was learning. lando was learning and he was proud of himself. he was so fucking proud of himself.

lando was thankful that max was here to watch him race. he needed that support. unfortunately, y/n couldn't be there, and as much as she tried to change her schedule to fit the race weekend, it just didn't work.

nevertheless, he'd spoken to her as soon as he got off the top step with his trophy in hand. how could he not?

later, when he found max, he laughed upon seeing his best friend. max fewtrell stood there with a bouquet of orange lilies in his hands, looking annoyed and endeared.

"mate, someone got me flowers but i have no idea who! pietra said it wasn't her!" max said, as soon as lando was close enough.

lando laughed, feeling a little bad as he was about break his best friend's heart, "max, they're not for you,"

"yes, they are! a random dude found me, asked if i was max fewtrell, and i said, yes, and he handed me this and walked off!"

"right. i love you, man, but did you see if there was a note by chance?"

max paused, before he checked the bouquet and found a folded note hidden.

lando wanted to tell him to hand it over. he didn't want anyone else to read what y/n had written for him, but he also knew that max wouldn't believe him unless he saw it with his own eyes.

"orange lilies because my god, you were so confident on track, im gonna jump you as soon as youre back. i love you. y/n." max read.

the two men paused, lando trying not to laugh as max stared at nothing for a few seconds.

and then, he pushed the bouquet against lando's chest and said, "i think these might be for you."

lando burst out laughing, as he accepted the bouquet.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

mexico p2 - yellow roses [friendship]

lando was so proud of carlos. his heart was bursting from the happiness he had for his friend.

it had been a shock at the start of the year when his friends had told him that carlos was no longer signed with ferrari. he hadn't been expecting it.

now, though, watching his friend win for what might be the last time for a while, because even though carlos fucking sainz is going to williams, their car isn't going to magically be one of the best next season. it's going to take time. but, williams now has carlos fucking sainz, so it might just happen sooner than they think.

the plan was that in the evening, the sainz family, and lando and luigi would go out for dinner, and then maybe hit a club after the older-older members of the family had gone back to the hotel.

for lando, all of them were old.

smiling wide, he stepped into his drivers room, ready to take a shower, and get ready for the evening dinner, when he saw the bouquet on the table.

yellow roses.

opening the card, it said, "for your carlando love. it might just be greater than landoy/n but i'm okay with that ;) give him a few of these from me, would you? i love you. y/n."

keeping the bouquet back carefully, he quickly got ready and removed a few of the flowers from the bouquet for carlos, before handing the actual bouquet to jon to keep at his hotel room safely.

later, carlos sent a picture to y/n, a selfie of carlos and lando, and the yellow roses between them.

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

abu dhabi p1 - nasturtium [victory]

she stood near the paddock, patiently waiting for lando, with a bouquet of nasturtiums in her hands. this one, she wanted to give in person.

she had taken a chance when ordering the flowers. sure, there was a chance that mclaren wouldn't have won the constructors, and while it was a small chance, she didn't want to jinx anything accidentally.

but lando had been confident, and y/n knew that if lando was feeling confident while being under so much pressure, there was nothing that could stop him from achieving his dream today.

y/n chatted with his mum and sister, all of three of them smiling so widely. the three women recounted specific parts of the races, every thought process that was going on during the race, the adrenaline, the anxiety, everything.

when lando finally found the three of them together, he hugged his mum first, and y/n smiled. she watched the sweet interaction between them, before he moved on to his sister, who joked with him but told him how proud she was.

finally, he turned to her, smiling so wide, eyes shining, and a relief in his shoulders. she pushed the flowers towards him, and said, "they're called nasturtium. for your victory, for your team's victory."

lando accepted the flowers, smiling softly as he looked at the bouquet. he took a step towards his girlfriend, wrapping his arms around her waist, as she wrapped hers around his neck. she could feel the bouquet against her back, and the two of them just seemed to just move side to side a little.

"thank you for being here," he whispered in her ear.

"where else would i be?" she whispered back.

he pressed a kiss against her neck, before he pulled back and kissed her once. just a little peck of i love you.

smiling, she slid her hand down to his heart, and said, "you did it."

he smiled, "we did it."

𐙚. ݁₊⋆❀˖°

"what are these?"

"petals,"

"i see that, lando. where are they from?"

"a petal from every flower you've gifted me this year,"

"you saved them?"

"of course."

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

fun fact: the spain gp on 2024 was on my birthday! anyways, i feel like this got a little repetitive, but like, if kando was real, i'd buy him flowers all the time! i probably have messed up somewhere with the details, but i'm too far gone to make edits. sorry 🤷‍♀️ lemme know what you think of it! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry

[gender-euphowrya]

yea boi

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru

♡ TW: fear, prank, prank gone too far, dubcon-ish

♡ GN reader

“Haha, ‘Toru—nice try,” is all you say to the tall figure, having stood patiently in wait and perfectly positioned to do a jump scare with his silly store-bought Ghostface mask on.

You sigh and go back to your dealings, and he remains as if the gist isn’t up—ever-committed to the task as if you’re suddenly going to forget that it’s him. Like—of course, it’s him! Despite what the movies will have you believe, not a lot of guys have bodies like that.

If he was really committed to tricking you, he should have worn something baggier to hide his perfectly shredded chest. But no—he’s set on wearing his black muscle shirt—probably opting to make you both scared and horny at the same time.

You carry on with what you’d been doing—cleaning up the kitchen. “Oi, quit standing there already and come help me.”

He doesn’t. But that’s not unlike him—he’ll take any excuse not to do the dishes. And right now, the excuse is this dumb prank. But it’s your fault in any case—you’re the one that put him up to it by saying he’d never be able to get a rise out of you.

You sigh and scold yourself for being so short-sighted—should’ve kept my dumb mouth shut. Knowing him, he’s probably going to be this way all through October, the insufferable prick.

He still stands there. Silent. And still. Eerily unlike him. And almost, just almost, utterly unlike him.

But no—don’t be stupid! He’s the same height and the same build, for fuck’s sake! What are the odds of someone with the exact same measurements as your boyfriend breaking in right at the time he isn’t around in something so cliche and dumb as a Ghostface replica? No, it stinks of Satoru—it’s got his goofy antics written all over it.

You scoff again—a little winded this time, a little strained. You have to hand it to him—he is a little scary when he shuts up for this long.

“You can knock it off, Satoru. I know it’s you.” You face him again, hand on your hip, with a frown. 

You sigh again when he still doesn’t answer, insisting on his stupid tactic of psyching you out. And you’re getting pissed that it’s actually almost working.

“Ugh, you’re so stupid.” You start stomping over—aiming to rip that dumb thing off his head and point your death glare directly in his insufferable blue eyes—those insufferable blue eyes you’re actually starting to hope are under there more than knowing without a doubt are there for sure. 

“Tch—it’s insulting if you think some half-assed performance like this is gonna be enough to scare me. At least have the creativity to come up with something somewhat decent–”

You stop in your tracks halfway over. Hair is peaking out from under the mask. You hadn’t seen it from afar, matted against the black shirt he was wearing—but how could you? How could you when it’s not white hair?

You flinch backward. Stumbling. Assessing the dark, silken locks a second time before looking up at the mask again—that soulless white warped skull with pitch-black bottomless eyesockets.

You take another step back. Breath hitching in your throat when the figure takes a step as well—toward you.

Your heart flares. It’s not Satoru.

Eyes peeled, you feel the panic overthrow you in an instant—like a cold rush, reaching all the way into your bonemarrow, making it hard to move, hard to do much of anything without feeling vulnerable to what it might trigger.

But once the figure pulls his hand out from behind his back, brandishing a butcher’s knife that catches the light and glints in the air—you have no other choice but to run.

What a perfect fucking day to wear fuzzy fucking socks! Fucking October cold is going to be the reason you die—stabbed to death in your own house by some cringey Scream fanboy. No—this can’t be the end—not this way! Why isn’t Satoru home yet? Why can’t he ever be where you need him to be?

You make your way through the house—hoping to reach the door, but turning the corner has you slip and fall, and the intruder’s on you—knife raised, poised prettily in the air above your helpless body, clad in your tiny heart-print pj’s—like the perfect hot airhead in any slasher spoof.

You scream and squeeze your eyes shut, “No! No—please! Please! Satoru, help!”

And right as the knife is supposed to come down and puncture your chest, making it spurt out red until you finally bleed out, dead and gone, there’s a bang instead as two palms land flat on the floor on either side of your head.

Joined by a muffled voice, “Are yah scared yet?”

With your eyes wide open again, you look up at not one mask blocking out the ceiling light but two. And with all the pure alarm savaging your chest, you manage to let out a real horror-movie squeal—unlike a sound you’ve ever made before.

And then, of all things, there’s laughter—no, not laughter—straight cackling.

And—fortunately or unfortunately—you’re quite sure you recognize that sound.

The last one pulls off his mask, and you really can’t believe it—pretty porcelain face squished in amusement with tears of joy in the corner of his insufferable blue eyes.

That fucking bitch.

“You should have seen your face!” he chortles—downright heaves. But for all his handsome features, he truly must be the ugliest laugher there is. Or maybe it’s just that the bastard always laughs at your expense, and after one too many times, it’s left a bad taste in your mouth.

Still, you sigh, eyes closed in relief, “I hate you, ‘Toru. You took it way too far, you ass.”

“No, no, Satoru, help~” he ignores you and mocks in a high-pitched moan, showing not a sign of remorse—holding his hand over his stomach as he falls to the floor, struggling to leave room for breath between hooting and howling.

Your eyes go to the original perpetrator. “And you? You proud or what?”

The wearer pulls off its mask and is revealed to be none other than Satoru’s best friend—Geto.

Honestly, you should have fucking known...

“Sorry, hehe…”

You’re upset—you make that clear with your pout, giving him your best guilt-tripping look from where you rest beneath him.

But still, within, your heart eases at the sight of his kind face and that apologetic smile across it—ever thankful to see him and not the cold-blooded murderer you were convinced was going to kill you only a moment ago—even when pinned beneath him in a position that should be making Satoru jealous.

But your boyfriend couldn’t care less, it seems—too busy rolling on the floor and laughing out loud quite literally, even banging his fist against the wood. Prick.

“I’m gonna throw up–” you say as the nerves finally settle. “And when I’m done, I’m gonna kill you. Both of you.”

Geto seems to think that’s fair, still with that sheepish smile on his face, but Satoru is quick to interject—laughing fit over as he shakes his head, “Nuh-uh. You said if I manage to scare you once this Halloween, I’d get whatever I want.”

You swear he can be such a child sometimes.

Oh, who are you kidding? He’s always a child. It’s only surprising he’s managed to rope Geto into all this—a guy who’s usually so mature.

“I don’t remember saying that…” you sigh, laying the back of your hand atop your forehead, still calming your breaths and the pounding in your head—your body not yet caught up to the fact that it’s trepidation over impending death was all just some silly joke played on you by two idiots.

You can’t believe him—you can’t believe either of them.

“Fucking shit, Geto—I thought I was gonna die.”

He still hasn’t gotten off you—the look of worry on his face tells you he’s probably just wanting to stay close to make you feel safe. You appreciate it, though it’s a little awkward lying beneath him like this—it’s not exactly a position you share with just anyone…

“Honestly, I didn’t think it would work,” he says—eyes slim like always, in that charming way. “I always thought you were smarter than to fall for something this stupid.”

You pull a frown at that—taking it all back. He’s as childish and dumb as Satoru is. He’s just better at hiding it. 

“Oh, shut up—as if you wouldn’t scream if someone chased you down with a knife,” you grumble. “Now get off, you prick.”

You begin to lift yourself onto your elbows, yet despite the clear intention of getting up, Geto doesn’t budge to make it happen.

No, instead, he leans further in—fine-kempt raven hair slipping off his shoulders, falling with the same grace as a veil.

“I was told there’d be a prize for the one that got you to crack, and seeing as I’m the one that made that happen—I want it.”

You have to blink—blanched at the sudden demand.

Satoru, as well, a little stunned—looks wide-eyed at the two of you, upside down where he lies flat on his back, long limbs stretched out like a starfish.

“You what now?” both of you ask in unison.

Geto chuckles before repeating, “My prize. I want it. It’s only fair,” as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Satoru rolls over onto his stomach to view you both the right way, pursing his lips in thought. “Hmm…” Hand on his chin as if it’s really something to deliberate when the dumbass very well knows what the two of you had bet on and how it very much isn’t a reward you can give to just anyone.

Yet, despite that. “Okay,” he agrees—as if it’s even up to him.

“Hold on now, wait a minute.” You intervene in the almost business-esque dealing they’d somehow held without you. "Not happening.”

“Why not?” they both ask, looking at you. 

And you can’t keep from gaping. The nerve.

Spluttering as you explain, “Because it’s—well, because it was a bet between me and my dumbass boyfriend, and it was very clear what the prize was gonna be, come winner or loser—so, sorry to break it to you, but there is no prize.”

But that doesn’t seem to deter Geto. “Oh, I think there is…” he all but purrs as he leans down further.

“Satoru already agreed. And you’re already on your back beneath me.”

His smile isn’t all so friendly anymore, and still… you can’t help but blush being caught beneath it, holding your breath with fear a little different from the one before but no different in how it makes your heart pound.

“So, if neither of you mind…" he grins slyly. "I think I’ll just take it.” 

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ GETO SUGURU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[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 too 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.

[simpingforheros]

Jason’s Wife?!

Pairing: Jason Todd X Female! Reader

Summary: Meet Mrs. Todd?! Jason got eloped and he doesn’t intend on sharing his blushing bride just yet.

Warnings: SMUT, Fluff, Established Relationship, Eloping, Jason being an ass to his family (for good reason), Jason calling Reader Ma (can’t remember who wrote about that, please tag them because I love this headcanon), P in V, unprotected sex (don’t advertise for the unsafe sex, put some breading on yalls chicken before dumping it in oil) , Oral (m receiving), Body Worship, Phone/Facetime during the deed, Exhibition Kink, Mating Press, Slight Breeding Kink, Degradation, Praise, crying kink??,TOXIC-ish And POSSESSIVE! Jason Todd is back, Traumatizing Dick again.

Author’s Note: Thank you guys so much for the praise I got on my last Jason Todd Fanfic! I didn’t know you guys would like my first smut that much so I made a part 2. Enjoy your next fix you horny bastards (jk I love you guys )

AN: This is Part 2 to Jason’s Girl??, so go read that for some context. Also a quick shout out to the mutual who started my spiraling decent into his madness, @jjenthusee , who was the main inspiration because of their amazing artwork! Also I’m sorry this was late and I don’t update as often, I’m in my second semester in a health major and I’m stumped man. I’ll update when I can I promise.

A/N: Part 3>>> Jason Broke What??

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Jason Todd is a lot of things. He’s known for bad things and good things. It depends on who you ask.

A menace, a murderer, a zombie, an asshole, etc.

A son, a brother, a hero….

But there’s two things everyone can agree on.

1). He’s a good boyfriend.

For the last 6 months since Jason finally revealed his secret girlfriend of two years, the Bat Family learned just how much of a better person Jason was when (Y/N) was around.

His voice was softer and kinder to others. His temperament was more patient and his fists stayed loose. Her presence acting like a balm to sooth his soul as soon as he feels her comforting hand on his skin.

There were obvious moments of trouble, such as little squabbles or one gets snappy at the other, but normally they sort it out. Even if Bruce and the rest of the family didn’t know her for long, they knew that she had the backbone to handle Jason and give him what he needed without babying him.

Jason even shows his love for her in goofy ways, such as wearing matching shirts or color coordinated outfits. The two are now known for their Friday date nights and lazy Saturdays where they don’t wanna be disturbed. Their late night rides or their silent evenings where either a book or controller is in hand.

Red Hood is known for lingering around certain streets where she would be at when she had to work late, and he always had a bottle of water or granola bar he ‘mysteriously appeared’ out of thin air.

Jason was known for being proud of building the healthiest relationship he’s ever had with someone who didn’t fall in love with him because he was Bruce Wayne’s son, or Batman’s protege. She fell in love with Jason Peter Todd and all he was.

Which leads to the one thing that the family also knew him for.

2) Jason Todd would not tell anyone when he dropped down on one knee and asked (Y/N) to be his wife.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The proposal was a spontaneous to say the least.

Their usual Saturday routine of laying on the couch, too exhausted from the week to move. Jason laid on the opposite side as his beloved, her feet dangling off to the side of his hips as his own rested behind her shoulders. They both had a book in as they enjoyed their silence. The only noise coming from the soft patter of Frank coming over to lay on his adopted father.

The tabby cat that Jason claimed to not like despite the male cat clinging to him like glue. The cat jumped onto his stomach with a deep groan emitting from him. A soft giggle filled the room as she sets her book down and pulls the feline to her.

“I still don’t understand why my cat likes you more than me.” She comments as she strokes the tabby’s fur.

Jason scoffs as he carefully rolls off the couch and onto his feet. “Probably to spite me.”

He heads to the kitchen to grab them a drink as he hears one comment that seemed to change everything in one second.

“What’s gonna happen when we have a kid? Would you think they would prefer you over me or would we have another Frank?…”

The question was a hypothetical one, a normal one couples would ask just to make sound in the air. Jason would have probably answered light heartedly with a kiss or a smart ass comment to make her laugh, but it felt different. He felt different.

There wasn’t a ‘if’ in the question like it would or wouldn’t happen, but a definite of ‘when’ it would happen. Jason knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Hell, he managed to not fuck up a relationship he kept hidden for 2 years. He knew he wanted to marry her the moment he decided to open up and let her into his life by moving her in and introducing her to his family.

So, even if it was on an impulse, Jason returns back into the living room and as he placed their drinks on the coffee table as he kneels on the floor beside the couch. (Y/N) sits up as she smiles at him, unaware of the decision he made.

“Penny for your thoughts, Todd?” She asked playfully as she offers him an imaginary penny in between her pinched fingers.

Jason smiles as he takes her out stretched hand before kissing the back of it.

“Marry me.”

The seriousness in his eyes made her playful attitude dissolve to disbelief.

“What?…”

“I wanna marry you, (Y/N)…You are the everything I could ever want and don’t deserve. But I can’t imagine building a life like the one we have with anyone else. You are one of the few lights this dark world has and I wanna love and protect you for the rest of our lives.” Jason explains as he nervously massages her hand as his eyes shined with deep love and affection. “Even if I don’t have a ring yet and we are in our pajamas, will you accept me and let me become yours forever?”

Tears streamed down her face as she nods frantically. Her arms quickly wrapping around Jason’s neck and pulling him into a kiss.

Jason melts into her and begins to move to be on top of her on the couch until a sharp hiss makes him stop.

“Quiet, Frank…” Jason grumbles at the cat.

“Daddy is trying get some sugar from Mama~”

+++++++++++++++++

A week later, Alfred appeared extra peppy for the day. His duties were quickly done before the family was awake and his fidgeting gotten everyone concerned. Alfred was the normally level-headed gentle hand of the house, so seeing him so giddy made everyone nervous.

It wasn’t until he surprisingly left in one of his better suits and a gift bag that the rest of the Wayne Family just decided that he may be going to an event or some kind.

“Where do you think he’s going?” Tim asks his younger brother from behind a book.

Damian shrugs as he says, “How should I know?”

The answer wouldn’t come until later that evening. Alfred came back with both the brightest smile and red swollen eyes. In his hands were a single pale pink rose and a camera as he scurries to the study.

Tim, Dick, and Damian, who were scattered around the living room, followed out of curiosity. What’s gotten Alfred this way? An old flame? The thought of Alfred getting down and dirty made the boys shudder before they continue to the study and ultimately down to the Batcave.

“Yo, Alfred.” Dick calls out as he exits the elevator.

Alfred stood by the large chair over looking the Batcomputer as Bruce’s hulking form peaked over the leather. The clicking of the mouse playing in the background as Alfred turns his head to address Dick.

“Yes, Master Richard?” He says. In his hand was the camera with cables connecting it to the computer.

“Where have you been? You kinda left in a hurry…”

Tim jumps in as he says, “I mean, we aren’t trying to be rude, but you did seem kinda jumpy this morning.”

Damian’s words cut through the other two like ice as his eyes look at the monitor.

“Did Todd and his woman get married?”

Dick and Tim look back at Damian before their shocked expressions look up to the monitor. Their eyes widen in disbelief at the image before them.

Standing in a suit was a an absolutely beeming smile was Jason Todd with his hands interlocked with (Y/N), who was wearing a white dress. The dress didn’t look like the traditional floor length gown. Instead it was a backless chic dress with a bow on the back. Her hair was down and decorated with pearl ornaments as a matching ribbon choker was around her neck with a single aged pearl on it.

In their interlocked finders, a familiar set of rings shined . Martha Wayne’s sparkling diamond engagement ring and her wedding band was on (Y/N)’s finger as a matching wedding band was on Jason’s finger.

The surroundings didn’t look like a typical wedding venue with flowers and ribbons with a crowd of people. It was a courthouse, Gotham City Courthouse. On (Y/N)’s side stood Alfred holding a pale pink bouquet that was most likely the bride’s. What surprised them the most was a smiling Bruce on Jason’s side, a look of pride on his face that he rarely shown.

The boys break out of their shell as Dick complains.

“This can’t be real… Jason and (Y/N) got married without telling any of us….AND YOU LET JASON HAVE MARTHA’S RING!!” Dick snaps as his irritation grew. “You said I was gonna have it.”

Bruce sighs as he says, “I said that before you cheated on both of your girlfriends with each other.”

Alfred chuckles as he says, “And Master Jason specifically stated that he only wanted me and Master Bruce there.”

Tim frowns as he asks, “Why weren’t we invited?”

Alfred gives the boy a sympathetic look before reciting, “Miss (Y/N) and Jason only wanted a small ceremony and off what he said, ‘Damian makes (Y/N) uncomfortable when he calls her Jason’s woman and a distraction. Dick is plain out not invited because of reasons he knows why. And Tim can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life, so he’s not invited.’”

Damian tsks as he says, “I wouldn’t have wanted to go anyways.”

Dick was flustered as the images of the incident Alfred was referring to. He still can’t get her moans out of his head…

Tim pouts and says, “I’m gonna remember this…But why was Bruce invited then?”

Bruce responds with a smirk , “Because I was asked to give away the bride.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As soon as the newly weds returned their apartment, the lust sprinkled down like hale. Her well manicured hair was now messy as his hands held her head. His mouth devouring her moans as her own lips kept up with his pace.

Her fingers desperately removing his tie as the shrilling ring of Jason’s cell phone fills the air. He ignores it in favor of trailing tongue against his bride’s as she slings off the tie.

“Gonna answer that?” She mumbles as his mouth begins to trail down her jawline. Jason doesn’t answer as his hands scoop up under her thighs to pick her up. Her giggles were music in his ears as he says,

“It’s probably just Tim or Dick. Probably bitching about the wedding…”

Jason carries his wife through the threshold of their apartment hallway as his lips remained on hers. Their vows sealed in teeth and tongues as he expertly guided them into the bedroom.

His phone finally stopped ringing as he places her on the bed. Hands groping and pulling off of clothing as he unwraps her down to her underwear and stockings. His mouth hot against her breast as she pushes his now unbuttoned shirt down his shoulders.

His other hand dipping into her underwear as he flicks her erected nipples like a guitar. Her sweet music filling the room as he’s met with a creamy cunt under her white thong.

“Fuccck, ma..” He moans against her breast. Jason pulls away with a devilish smirk as he runs his finger over her sopping folds, carefully avoiding her hole and clit. “I can’t tell what I like more…your pretty tits or your sloppy cunt…”

(Y/N) feels the wave of shameful arousal fill her stomach as she whines out, “Stop teasing me, baby. It’s our wedding day and you’re acting like a jackass…”

Her body jolts as he pinches her clit. Her hips jerking as she moans at the sensation. Jason had a look of faux sympathy before mumbling against the valley of her breasts.

“Oh, you’re right…” His voice barely audible to her as he begins to rub heart shaped patterns on her clit, making sure to dip down to her gasping pussy as he dips down. “I’m not acting like a good husband, ain’t I? Let me make it up to you, Mrs. Todd.”

His lips attached to her unabused nipple before his middle finger finally dips into her pulsing hole. His groan accentuated by the scraping of his teeth against her sensitive flesh. The feeling of her cunt sucking his one finger in making him light headed as her moans ringed out.

“Jason…stop teasing me…I want you…” She begs as her hips try to meet the thrust of his finger. He growls at her bossiness before yanking his finger out of her pulling her panties down her thighs.

Her eyes glared at him for the loss of stimulation before he quickly pops her pussy lightly. The wet slap of skin making her cringe in embarrassment before Jason begins to leave a trail of open kisses and bites down her body. Making sure to pay special attention to the matching tattoo on her hip before he mumbles to her with a lazy smile.

“Your wish is my command.”

Before he could dig into his meal, the shrill ring of his phone invades the space. He yanks his phone out of his pocket and looks at the screen before declining the call. He tosses the phone onto the bed as he glares at the offending device.

“Stupid Dick..” He groans before a soft hand on his face draws him back to her. Her gentle touch bringing peace to his mind as she pulls him up to press a soft peck to his lips.

His mind goes blank as she gently lures him to stand before she kneels down, trailing kisses down his exposed chest and his scars. Her love poured into his body as her lips traced his autopsy scars. Her eyes shining so pretty as she presses an extra long kiss to his matching tattoo on his Adonis belt.

The silent vow that was made a year and a half into dating on a drunk night out with Roy.

‘I am hers and she is mine’

“Let me be a good wife to you, Mr. Todd.” She whispers against his skin. Her breath like hot fire before her hands snake off his belt and trousers. Her mischievous eyes gleaming in lustful delight as Jason’s lip curls in between his teeth. His eyes almost glowing as she presses her warm lips against his clothed tip. His hand fisting into her hair as he hisses at her.

“Don’t you fucking tease me…”

*RING* *RING*

Jason glares at the phone before he snatches it up. He sees the familiar notification as his own image shown on the phone. FaceTime.

“Answer it.”

“What?” Jason asks in confusion before looking down to her. His surprise was suppressed with a hiss as she pulls his hard cock out of his underwear. Her hand lazyily stroking him as she gives him a look of faux innocence.

“Answer it. It’s rude to ignore family..”

Jason feels a smirk curled onto his face as he realizes what she wanted. His dick hardened to iron as he remembers why he fell for her.

She was just as fucked as he was.

With that, Jason schools his face as he answers the phone with an annoyed expression.

“What?” He says as the image of his brother appears on his phone screen.

Dick glares at Jason before snapping at him. “You got fucking married?! Without inviting any of us?!”

“Didn’t Alfred tell you why we didn’t want you guys there?” Jason asked in as much annoyance as he can muster as he felt the wet pull of lips around his cock.

His hand gripping her hair kept her from getting more than his tip in as he hides his reaction. Her tongue licking his tip like a kitten wanting milk.

“But we are family for fucks sake.”

Jason’s actual annoyance getting the best of him as he hisses,

“I’m sorry, but I recall you trying to fuck my wife.”

“THAT WAS BEFORE I KNEW YOU WERE DATING HER!!”

Jason becomes distracted as (Y/N) starts sucking him off. Her drool and his precum slowly beginning to coat her mouth and hand as it strokes what she can’t fit into her pretty mouth.

His brow furrowed as his pleasure and annoyance started to mix on his face. Jason decides to get some payback on both his wife and brother as he slyly mentions.

“Oh but you had no problem rubbing one out when I sent those videos.”

He pulls her closer to his pelvis to muffle her surprised moan. If he wasn’t on the phone, he would degrade her like a slut with how she acts when she remembers being recorded. Her cheeks hollow as Dick’s jaw drops as Jason mentions the videos.

“I-I..”

“Admit it.” Jason says, his voice grew more taunting. “You probably still jack off to the videos because you’re nothing but a loser who cheats on any good woman he gets because you’re scared of attaching to someone.”

Jason can feel her eagerness grow as she sucks harder, actually pulling him as deep into her throat as she can. He almost wanted to both laugh at how cute she was as she gagged around him and coo at how proud he was of her. Her jaw was gonna be hurting like a bitch either way.

Dick’s baffled expression almost made it better as his eyes shined with shame over what Jason knew to be true.

“That’s why Bruce gave me Martha’s ring.” Jason says as he forces (Y/N) to take him all the way down her throat. Her nose pressing into his light patch of black hair as Jason says. “fuck…I can fuck (Y/N) like I fucking hate her guts and she would take it because she knows I would rather swallow glass than fuck anyone else like I do her. To even love anyone halfway as I do her would be a sin…”

The fluttering feeling of her throat as her nails digged into his thigh affirming his conviction.

“I’m not afraid to get attached… As long as she lives, I’ll never let her go…”

He hangs up before Dick can respond as he yanks her back by her hair. Her coughing and gasping for air as she whine painfully at both the lost of his cock in her mouth and the painful grip on her scalp.

Jason releases her hair before kneeling beside her on the floor. His expression tender as he cups her face. Her light makeup look from the wedding was now smudged off with her mascara flowing down her face with her tears. Her lips puffy and wet from his assault on her mouth. Her body littered in forming bruises from his teeth. Her cunt sloppy and leaking a clear sheen down her thighs. Her cheek leaning into his palm as her eyes shined at him with nothing but love and desire.

“Fuck…” He groans before crawling inbetween her legs as he pushes her to lay down on the floor. His mouth back on hers as his throbbing erection lightly dragged against her fluttering pussy. The head catching her clit despite the watery resistance as she whimpers into his mouth.

“You look so pretty like this…” Jason says before sticking his tongue down her throats. Their tongues tangling for a moment before his hands cup her face and pull her away. “You feel it, don’t you?”

She whines as his hips rolled against hers. Her cunt angry as it fluttered around nothing. His nearly red dick twitching as it desires salvation in her temple as Jason breathlessly whimpers.

“Feel how bad I need you baby? Fuck I can’t stand it. I wanna fuck you every day so I can see you look like this.” He says as he wraps his hand his member. He slaps her pussy with it twice before dragging his head over her entrance, the heavy appendage dipping in slightly as he says.

“I wanna ruin you so good. You’re such a good pretty girl that I want to ruin and make as fucked up as me…”

Her gasps fill the room as he starts to bully his tip into her. Even though they were both well experienced with each other, every time she takes him feels like the first time with that delicious stretch.

His unusually talkative mood doesn’t let up as he pushes his hips into her, forcing her to take him.

“You’re so gorgeous…” He whispers as he pulls her legs over his shoulders as he grasps her hips, forcing them up as he starts to fill her to the hilt. “God, this pussy is unbelievable…gonna fill her up everyday and eat her out every night…”

His thrusts start off slow but hard as her hands desperately held onto what bit of Jason she could as he fucked her like a doll. Her whimpers and moans filling the air as the sticky sound of his balls smacking her ass.

His hot breath tickles her ears as his hips develop the torturous pattern of pistoling into her like a hard buck before rolling in a deep and filling thrust. Her eyes filling with tears and brain fog as he filled her lust sick brain with praise.

“Such a good little wife…a sweet little thing with a nice soft body for me…” He groans as his pace becomes brutal. His precision and memory impeccably beats anything he learned as a vigilante as he assaults her G-spot. Her eyes rolling back as lighting strikes her the brain as she begins to cry.

“Fuck. Fuck. fuck…” she sobs incoherently as Jason licks the tears off her face.

“You look so hot when your cry…” Jason moans as his thrusts start to become more sloppy. His reaches between them as he rubs tight circles on her clit as he thrusts harder into her soft cunt.

“Will you cry some more please?” He’s asked in a cruel tone. His eyes blown out with desire as he lets his full weight pin her down under him. His added weight making her pinned as she cries. Her stomach tightening at the overwhelming presence of him and his cock destroying her insides.

“I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, Ma…” He says as his own whimpers fall through. “Gonna watch you get swollen and carry a little perfect baby and know that you’re mine…that no one can love you like me… ain’t that right?”

Her impending orgasm blocking off all rational thoughts as her mouth hangs open. His hand pulls from her clit to her frustration and grabs a hold of her jaw. Forcing her to look at him as he says harshly.

“Who do you belong to ,Pretty Girl?”

Her eyes widen as she says, “You…I belong to you baby…”

Jason smirks as he starts thrusting faster. Her shrieks just music in his ears as she falls off the edge. Her vision clouded as white flashes in her vision. Her body nearly convulsing as her cunt squeezes Jason into his own orgasm. His warm seed flooding her quivering womb as he presses a kiss into her neck.

The pair remained still for a moment as they gasped for air. The natural chill of the room causing them to tremble at the stimulation. Her small hand moving first as she grabs his hand, her fingers playing with the gold band on his finger as she whispers.

“My husband…” A soft satisfied smile on her lips as Jason grins widely into her neck as he mumbles.

“All yours, Mrs. Todd.”

**********************

AN: Yea I didn’t know how to end this. 😭 I hope you guys like it because I’m not too sure if the smut is good or not. Let me know what you think as I’m trying to clear out the drafts. Again, Thank you @jjenthusee for inspiring these two fanfics and for being a great mutual.

*******************

@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT CONDONE THE THEFT, COPYING, REPOSTING, AND PLAGIARISM OF MY WORK ON THIS SITE OR OTHER SITES WITHOUT CREDIT OR PERMISSION.

[keferon]

Two Peas in a Pod: part 2/?

*slips another piece into your mailbox*

_____________________

Jazz was still feeling a little woozy from his donation in the dark hours of the morning. Blaster had breakfast changed from the usual to something that felt more like a treat, probably a reward for his good behaviour, and to help his body recover. Fish heavy in proteins, fat, all that healthy stuff. Something that normally he would have tried to savour, but he wolfed it down from excitement. Too many questions ran through his head, and most he couldn't bring himself to voice.

The mer, the mer would pull through. Blaster told him about how he had saved their life with his blood. Praised him high and low. Because Blaster knew how Jazz felt about seeing blood, about how hard blood tests were for him, and that was only a tiny vial. Not three big bags of it. Jazz hadn't seen how much they had taken – because he had kept his eye closed until they left in a hurry –, and hearing about it made him dizzy for other reasons, but he honestly felt real proud of himself.

It was a new feeling, different from other moments of pride – like when he figured out the lock codes. Yeah, this gave him butterflies and the drive to help more.

Blaster laughed when Jazz offered that the vets could take more if the other mer needed it. His handler didn't think it would be, but he would pass it on to the vet team.

Jazz's morning checks were a little off, expected with having a little less fluids and feeling off-balance, but it was kept short and quick. Blaster told him that if he learned anything more, he'd tell him next time he came by and then hurried back down to the staff area. Blaster was needed elsewhere, understandably as there weren't many mer experts here, though he did leave Jazz his waterproof stereo if he wanted to play some of his favourites.

But, the orca mer was far too busy causing a whirlpool from the laps he was swimming. He was too excited to sit still, and embarrassment be damned he started practising old vocals. He didn't remember much of his mother tongue, and he was pretty sure that his pronunciation was off, that or had one hell of an accent. Echo-speech was even more rusty. And once he had gone over and over what he could recall, Jazz began to really worry. A few sentences and handful or so of words was all he had? Gods, I hope I can at least make a decent first impression. Blaster said they were just like me, so hopefully, that will give me some starting points.

More than he cared to count, Jazz would swim into the shallow waters of the medical bay and hope to see something through that window. But no one ever came close enough for him to hear any news of the mer. He couldn't even see anything on his radar, wherever they had done treatment, it wasn't in the hospital ward. It almost felt like he was being purposely kept in the dark.

And just when Jazz was starting to worry that things had taken a bad turn, a group of staff turned up around four pm. He wasn't able to ask any questions, or rather they refused to answer. Shooing him away as they got to work. Starting with closing the gate to the bay to 'keep him out'. Jazz could easily climb those walls, but that wasn't the point. Even if the gate window was closed, he could pick up that they were setting up the water hammock. But it wasn't until he heard the cautionary beeping of the hoist lift approaching that it dawned on him – the mer was coming. Now.

"Jazz," Blaster called, "… Jazz," he blew the training whistle and finally got his mer's attention. "Stop pacing and get over here."

"But–" Jazz looked back longingly up the wall.

"Jazz," his tone dropped to a firm one, and Jazz begrudgingly swam over to the pier. The human crouched and made sure that they held eye contact before he spoke. "I need you to promise me that you will stay in your enclosure."

He sunk a little, trying to play into his cuteness, but being far too anxious to really pull it off. "What do you mean?"

"Jazz," now warning him. Blaster knew full well that he was more than capable of getting into or out of places he shouldn't, bloody Houdini mermaid, "this is serious. Things are going well, we want to keep it that way. Which means keeping things calm and feeling safe. You're excited, I get it, we all are. But in about an hour, they'll be waking up and – from past experience seen with wild Mers – they will likely freak out. And the last thing we need is you hauling your tail over that wall and making things worse. Understand?"

The beeping was louder how and the hiss of hydraulics caused Jazz to look up. The arm of the lift was visible over the wall. They're here!

"Jazz," Blaster hopelessly called for his attention once more.

Within moments, a massive bundle was carefully raised, the staff calling out and coordinating. Jazz's gaze was fixed on the black and white fluke poking out, it was the only part of them he could see, and his heart began to race. Once they became hidden by the wall again, Jazz moved back to pacing by the gate without even thinking. Listening to people hopping into the water to unstrap the mer and call back n' forth. "Careful, careful! – Watch the head! – Someone give me a hand over here! – We're clear on this side! – Keep the head up!"

Really starting to sound like a broken record, Blaster chirped the whistle and called out to him again. The expression he wore must have been pretty pitiful because the look on Blaster's face dropped. "If I open the view port… will you promise me that you will wait, that you will stay in your enclosure?"

"I promise," he answered hastily, placing his hands on the gate, over the panel that would slide open.

"And that you will wait until everything is in the clear, till the staff come to oversee the integration. There will be no rushing things and no asking staff when we will open the gate."

"I promise," he repeated, trying not to beg.

Satisfied, Blaster pulled out his radio, "Blaster to Control; when the team is out of the Mer enclosure's medical bay, open the view port. Jazz's stress is mounting without a visual."

"Can do," came a quick reply.

Though, opening the panel was not. Several minutes went by, the hoist had cleared out, and much of the staff had returned to their other duties. Only two remained double-checking the mer's breathing and pulse. The moment that the last of them left, Jazz heard the lock disengage, and he retracted his hands as the panel shifted and began to slide open. The window was too small to get more than his hand – maybe up to his elbow if he wanted to push it – through, and sat just at water level– any movement sending water hopping to either side. But it gave him a clear view of the surface area inside.

Oh.

Oh. Jazz stopped breathing. While the mer's body was mostly supported by the fabric of the hammock, cradling them on their side, effectively hiding most of them from Jazz's angle. Propped up on a soft floating platform was the mer's head, face towards the gate. Sharp features and elegantly shaped finials, with flattering lines of their markings complimenting the peaceful expression as they slept. The butterflies from earlier came back stronger than ever, his heart thundering as words fumbled from Jazz's lips, "he's beautiful…"

_____________________

-GLC

Orca Prowl really is just-- too fucking pretty, omg, I'm living through Jazz in this moment like when I first saw your designs of him.

I'm more than happy to continue writing for you, you bring me so much joy. I screamed when I saw how much you liked it. If you have any requests you would like me to add to the story, leave it in the tags or comments ♡ I now plan to continue until the tsunami and a bit afterwards, maybe more, we'll see~

Upd: There is a next part!

Previous

Oh. MY GOD. OKAY ALRIGHT OKAY ALRIGHT OKA

I'M ABOUT TO START PACING IN CIRCLES JUST LIKE JAZZ OVER HERE KDLCNFJFLFB PL E A S E THIS IS SO GOOD. The tension?? You can fucking TASTE it IT'S SO GREAT GLC I LOVE YOU

The way it all starts at night and then you (as a reader) have all this additional time to boil in your anticipation?? So fucking great. Like you can really feel how little power Jazz has over the wholse situation. The plot is moving but he doesn't have any saying in it. Well. Yet heheh

Anyway haha. Im normal and I made some art>:D

[everlastingserenitys]

SOMETHING 'BOUT YOU

summ. your overworked, under fucked (older) co-worker who couldn't help but end up inside you after being assigned for a "group project" together.

pairing. xavier x f!reader cw. dilf!xavier, p in v, fingering, making out, cumming inside, tension, almost passing out during sex a/n. had to write sum for my bf im so HORNY for him

Getting paired with your co-worker who practically looks like a living corpse was not on your agenda. The problem was, that this idiot sleeps during half of work time, only participates when he's called on and on top of that, barely shows up.

So you knew you were fucked when you had to do this stupid project with him. You tried to convince your boss, several times actually, to change partners but a flat ‘nope’ was slapped on your face. Every. Single. Time.

You still had hope, at least some little hope that your boss would change partners for you, but…

“If you ask again, you’re fired.”

Fuck.

Now, there wasn’t anything particularly wrong with Xavier, looks wise at least, it's just the way he presented himself at work. No one talked to him–mainly because he’s sleeping all day, but you? You’ve talked to him a couple times, and each time was a flat boring conversation.

The first time you tried to make friends in this workplace you would ask everyone the same question, going along the lines of, ‘how was your day’ or ‘how is work for you?’. But the responses you got from Xavier were just boring one worded answers like, ‘mhm’ or ‘its good.’

After those boring conversations, and getting practically nowhere you stopped talking to him.

But now, after your boss threatened to fire you, you immediately went over to Xavier's desk. His head was resting between his closed arms, he was probably sleeping like a baby right now, and you didn't want to stand here forever, you just needed to get the project over with.

“Xavier.” you mumble, slightly shaking his sleeping figure, hoping he’d wake up soon, but of course he didn’t. An annoyed sigh escaped your lips, your fingers slightly linger on his defined biceps poking through his shirt, since when was he this ripped?

“Xav–”

“Mhm” Xavier groaned, lifting himself off of his arms and blinking his half lidded eyes at you.

You take your fingers off of his arms and rest your hand along the cubicle opening, leaning your face against your hand before you spoke, “we got a group project, if you even knew about it,” the last few words left your lips in a low murmur and a hint of amusement flashed through Xavier’s eyes before he nodded, signaling for you to continue.

“And i was wondering if we could go to your place, how’s that?” you ask, quickly batting your eyelashes at him before your gaze lingers somewhere else. Well, out of instinct, of course, you were practically gawking at his whole figure before he cleared his throat and pulled out his phone, probably checking the time.

“You can come over once work is finished, and then leave before nine, you think we could do that?” Xavier asks, his eyes darting from his blank screen on his phone to your eyes, you swallow the random lump that formed in your throat and nod.

Xavier sent you his address and you went back to your desk.

As the day progressed, before you knew it, work was over. It was already an hour past five and you still had a ten minute walk to Xavier's place, and each step you took out of the building slowed down by the second, you don't even know what you were nervous for. Just hours ago you were acting like a bitch when you found out he was your partner, but now? you were freaked out.

You pushed your anxious thoughts aside and headed over to his place.

Eventually, you made it to Xavier's place. It was pretty nice. A decent building just enough to fit at least four people in it. Your footsteps echoed on the cemented tiles, leading to his front porch. When you reached the door, you brought your finger to the doorbell.

And before the doorbell could fully ring, Xavier had already opened the door for you, his tired eyes gawked at you before he led you in. And the inside definitely looked better than expected. Xavier leads you to his work room and asks you to place your things wherever.

His place was more organized than you expected, he had two bookshelves stacked with books on it and his desk was clean, a stack of papers rested on the corner while his monitor was in the middle. You admired the rest of his room and Xavier cleared his throat, signaling for you to sit at the table.

“Sorry.”

“Don't worry about it,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of tenderness and something…more?

“We don't have much time, why don't we get started?” he suggested. You nod and bring out your papers for the project.

But half an hour through your work, you were dying. Not in a stressful way, but his house was way too hot. He basically had no AC in his room and you didn't even know how he was living right now?!

You grab a couple handfuls of paper, and fold them up, soon bringing them to your face and fan them in a quick movement, seeking for some coldness, but it was barely working. Xavier noticed your antics and raised an eyebrow, “hot?”

“Mhm.”

“I have a shirt if you want to borrow, that blouse definitely won't get you through the next couple hours.”

You ponder for a moment, a new shirt would be nice, so why the hell not? You agree and he nods, lifting himself off the ground, a small groan escaping his lips before he fully gets up. Xavier heads out of his room and comes back minutes later with a stack of a couple of his t-shirts.

He scatters them along the table you two were sitting at and told you to try any. You grab the first decent one that caught your eye and head over to the bathroom. And your worst nightmare happened.

Your shirt wouldn't unbutton.

This was literally a new shirt you bought and you already couldn't take it off!? There’s no way in hell you were going to try to rip it now, so, out of instinct, you ask Xavier to help you. Only for the buttons, only for the buttons…

“Hey, Xavier.” you call out to him, a hum is heard from the other side of the door and you sigh before asking him for help, “this is kind of embarrassing, c’mere.”

Footsteps echoed closer to the bathroom door and you could feel Xaviers presence through the other side. You rest your hand on the lock of the door before you flick it until it clicks, indicating that the door was unlocked.

Xavier lightly opens the door and his eyes look down at your figure before he asks what's wrong. An exasperated sigh escaped your lips and you turned around, moving your hair to the side to show your buttons that wouldn't unbutton to him.

A cold chuckle escaped his lips, “so you can’t unbutton your shirt, is what you’re saying?” He said in a mocking tone, a hint of generosity lingering through it. You let out a quick nod and Xavier’s cold, bristle fingers were already gliding against your neck.

His fingers glide through every button in a smooth motion, it was like you were watching someone pluck out strawberry seeds without making a mess. Xavier was already almost on the last button, his hot breath coxed your warm skin as he breathed heavily above you.

Your breath hitches when you feel Xavier’s finger graze your exposed skin. His two fingertips rested along your back before he pulled away, letting your shirt drape to your sides.

This was probably the first time you've seen your co-worker in heat, he tried to hide it so badly, but was failing miserably. Xavier was practically panting like a dog in heat, like a man who's never seen or touched a woman's bare skin.

“Shirt, where's the shirt?” Xavier breathed, his eyes darting on everywhere but your exposed skin. You turn your head and eye down at his hands.

“In your hand, c’mon, you could wait at the table as I put this on.” you say, grabbing the shirt from Xavier’s hands lifting the seamless fabric above your head before it slid down your body. When you brushed your hair aside Xavier was already gone.

You head out the bathroom and sit down at the table, Xavier glances at you before starting his work again. But each minute he was getting restless, and it was obvious he couldn't control himself.

“Hey.” Xavier said, his voice was like ten octaves lower and you glanced up from your paper, raising an eyebrow at him.

“My daughter’s gonna be home in a bit and..”

You didn't even listen to the rest of what he had to say because your mind stopped working when he said the word ‘daughter’. No wonder he seemed so overworked and stressed out during work… but the way he reacted touching your skin, made you wonder, does he even have a wife?

“Want to do it?”

Huh, do what?

“Yeah, sure.”

-

Stupidity got to you, you thought this was about the project and not something completely different, but it wasn't like you were complaining–kind of.

Xavier was just mere inches away from you. The second you said yes, he dropped everything he had and stepped closer and closer to you. He leaned in, his face was inches away from you, his hot breath on your skin, again.

“Xavier, do you have a wife?”

“Nope.”

That was all Xavier said before he crashed his lips onto yours, his rough skin meddling with yours was an experience you definitely wouldn't mind to experience again. The way his lips moulded yours in a perfect manner, it just felt amazing.

He slid his tongue against your slightly parted lips, seeking for entrance which you of course give him. You wrap a hand around his neck as you pull him closer, savouring more of him. A low moan escapes his lips, which sends vibrations to sprawl through your body.

A few moments passed, Xavier got to taste almost every inch of you, and he needed more. Its been a while since he fucked or kissed someone and he was practically over the moon. His arms snaked around your waist and he slid his fingers under your–his t-shirt, gliding his fingers through your cold skin.

Your shirt hiked up your body and revealed your bare skin for Xavier. A low whistle escaped his lips and he proceeded to remove the rest of your clothes off of you. Xavier stared down at you with lust and love filling his eyes.

He wrapped his fingers around your thighs and placed them around his hips, bucking himself closer to you. The rough fabric of his pants made contact with your bare pussy and a whine escaped your lips as you rocked yourself against him.

Xavier removed his clothes and pressed his bare body against yours, both of your skins ignited with each other and you felt your body burn up. Xavier pressed his finger against your soaking cunt, his digits stretching you out like his fingers were made for your pussy.

“Hah..Xav…” you whimper, rocking your hips against his fingers.

“What is it? Should I go quicker?” he asked, pushing his fingers deeper inside you, stroking you in a rhythmic movement. You nod and he listens to you, quickening his fingers inside you and as he watches you squirm beneath him.

“How’s this? Hm?”

“P-perfect!” you groan, holding onto the edges of the table next to you. Xavier nods and pulls his fingers out, staring at the white mixture coated around his fingers. Lifted your hips higher, at a perfect angle for him, and pressed his soaking tip against your stretched out cunt.

A low moan left Xavier’s lips when he slipped his cock inside you. The tip was barely inside and you felt like he shoved his full length in you. Xavier was stretching you out, inch by inch, the feeling of his warm cock twitching between your tight walls felt like you were in heaven.

His thrusts were slow, and smooth paced, he kept rocking himself back and forth, back and forth, only pushing a few inches inside you, not doing more, at least not yet. Xavier grabbed onto your hips as his thrusts started to quicken, and fuck…It felt too good

“Fuck…” he asked, pushing himself deeper inside you. You felt like your pussy was going to rip apart any second now, his large length was suffocating you and your inner thighs started to hurt, bad.

But Xavier continued his slow pace on you, just pushing more and more inside you each second. Your moans filled the room and you rolled your eyes back as you tried to blink away your desire creeping through your body.

“S’ been a while since I had thisss” the last word rolled off in a whimper and Xavier pressed himself against you, he was practically balls deep inside you and you could feel the light pressure of his faded happy trail graze your skin.

“Xavier! ‘M gonna cu–nmgh”

“Yeah?”

You nod repeatedly and couldn't hold it in anymore, a spike of pleasure washes through your body when you came. The white mixture coated Xavier’s cock as he pulled away. You breathe heavily, catching your breath from the intense sex you just had, with your fucking coworker.

Just when you thought you were done you felt his same warm, creamy tip make contact with your entrance and he thrust himself inside you, again. This time, his pace was like a wild animal, he had no rhythm on how he was fucking you, he just needed to cum, and thrusting himself aggressively was working.

Xavier grabbed onto your chin and stared into your eyes, he leaned in closer, capturing your lips in a needy kiss before pulling his face away and closing his eyes shut. You were too much in a daze to even process what was going on, you felt like you were going to pass out any second.

Xavier held onto you with a tight grip before he let out a sigh of relief, that's when you realized he came.

Right. inside. You.

“Xav?” you mumble, blinking your half-lidded, watery eyes at him. Through your blurred vision you could see a hint of panic and something else fill his eyes. You blink several times, letting the water seep out of your eyes before fixing your vision to his face.

Xavier nods, slowly pulling himself out of you, a wince escaped your lips when he popped his tip out of your cunt and he sighed, plopping himself on top of you as he caught his breath.

“My…Daughter…”

“Huh?”

“Daughter’s home.”

a/n. sorry if its a little sloppy