#I was thinking about it last night but now I have forgotten most of the plot

[nb-octopus-writes]

once you’re in the hive, the other bees assume you’re supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Chapter 8: One Could Get Used to This

Wordcount: 1.5K

~~~~

No-one comes to drag Virgil out of bed. He wakes on his own the next morning and for a few moments contemplates getting out of bed, but then he rolls over and goes back to sleep. It’s his day off, he doesn’t have any plans, and he is cozy.

He wakes again around noon, and wanders downstairs. There’s no-one in the sitting room, but he finds Patton in the dining room, curled up in the armchair with a book.

“Good morning!” Patton greets cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Virgil says. “You?”

Patton’s eyes crinkle up in a pleased smile. “I did, yes, thank you,” he says. 

Virgil fidgets, just a little, and he glances back toward the door. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Hm,” Patton says thoughtfully, tapping the book against his chin. “Logan’s in his office, and last I saw him, Roman was still asleep, poor dear.” He chuckles. “You two sure were up real late last night. And Remus and Janus aren’t here right now, but they were going to come to dinner, so they should be arriving in a few hours.” He pauses, thinking. “I don’t think anyone else was planning to be here today, but I might have forgotten something, or they might’ve forgotten to mention it. That happens sometimes.”

“Must make meal planning difficult,” Virgil says.

“It can,” Patton agrees. “But I like to make sure we have plenty of leftovers anyway, so a surprise guest or two isn’t very hard to accommodate.” He smiles gently at Virgil. “Are you hungry? Would you like some breakfast?”

“If you’re offering,” Virgil says, because they have been incredibly hospitable to him so far, but he doesn’t want to presume anything.

“Oh of course,” Patton says, setting his book down. “I hate to leave anyone hungry when there’s food in the house. What would you like? Are you in the mood for a breakfast breakfast, or something more lunchy?”

Virgil hesitates. “I don’t want to make you cook something just for me,” he says.

“Oh, it’s no trouble!” Patton reassures him. “I like cooking. But we do have leftovers in the fridge if you would like something quicker.”

Virgil nods a little. “What are my options?”

“Well, we’ve still got plenty of what we had last night, of course,” Patton says consideringly, getting up and heading towards the kitchen. Virgil follows. “And I made a fresh batch of boiled eggs this morning.” He opens the fridge and peers inside, then waves Virgil over. “Take a look, anything look appetizing?”

Virgil joins Patton in front of the fridge and looks inside. ‘Plenty of leftovers’ may have been an understatement. The fridge is quite full, mostly of containers. There’s no way Virgil can possibly see all the options without taking most of the contents out to see what’s behind them, and he is not about to do that.

Trying to be quick, Virgil scans the food visible through the sides of the containers. He sees white rice, mixed vegetables, something brown that’s probably gravy, mashed potatoes, a couple drumsticks… 

He knows, reasonably, that everything in this fridge is probably very good. He is also sure that if he was sat down and served any of these choices, he would eat it without complaint and be pleased with it. But just now, looking at the leftover containers, his stomach and taste buds rebel, and nothing looks appealing. 

“I don’t know,” Virgil says. It’s not that he isn’t hungry. His stomach is very helpfully informing him that it is currently empty. It is just also telling him, simultaneously, that there isn’t a single food in the entire world that will satisfy, and unfortunately it has annexed his tongue to its side. His brain, meanwhile, is yelling that he’s taking too long to decide, and he needs to hurry up and pick something before Patton gets upset at him for letting all the cold out of the fridge.

Patton makes a sympathetic sound. “Too many options to choose between?” he says softly. “Would you like me to prepare you a plate?”

Virgil’s very bones go limp. “Yes please,” he says weakly, glad to have the decision taken out of his hands.

Patton rests his hand gently on Virgil’s arm. “Why don’t you go wait in the comfy chair, and I’ll bring you some food in a minute,” he suggests gently.

“Okay,” Virgil says, and goes. Just as he settles, Patton appears in the doorway again with an empty plate in his hands.

“You don’t have any dietary restrictions, do you?” he asks. “I know it’s a bit late to be asking, but…”

“No, I’ll eat anything,” Virgil says, fondness rising in his chest. “Thanks for checking.”

“You’re welcome,” Patton says, and goes back into the kitchen. He returns a few minutes later, the plate now laden with a large slice of lasagna. “Do you want to come eat at the table, or over there?” he asks.

“Table, definitely,” Virgil says, moving. Much less risk of spilling red tomato sauce on their furniture that way, plus he’d rather not try to balance a hot plate on his lap right now. He sits, and Patton places the plate in front of him. Virgil’s eyes go wide. In addition to the lasagna, there’s a slice of home-baked bread with butter and jam, and a small heap of peas and corn. “Just how big do you think my appetite is?”

Patton chuckles. “Sorry,” he says. “Force of habit. Roman would clean that plate and then ask for seconds, especially after sleeping through breakfast.”

“I can believe it,” Virgil says with a laugh.

Patton pats his shoulder, then moves away. “If it’s too much, we can put some of it back,” he says as he reclaims the armchair. “You don’t have to eat all of it.”

He’s certainly going to give it his best go, Virgil’s stomach informs him seriously. His tongue agrees.

Virgil starts with a large bite of bread. It’s no longer fresh-baked, but Patton had re-warmed it. Toasted, maybe? There’s a bit of crunch to it, though it’s still pleasantly soft, not hard as a rock like most toast.

Roman makes an appearance when Virgil’s about halfway through his meal, wearing only a white tank top and a pair of red shorts. Virgil isn’t sure if they’re loose boxer shorts or thin actual shorts, but he’s not about to stare at Roman’s crotch and/or ass long enough to figure it out, and he’s certainly not about to ask.

Probably they’re actual shorts. Roman has so far struck him as having somewhat more decorum than Remus, and probably wouldn’t walk around in just his underwear with a random person in his house.

Probably.

“Ooh, that looks delicious, I want some of that, is there more?” Roman says in greeting, completely oblivious to Virgil’s inner musings.

“There’s one piece of lasagna left, and plenty of the rest,” Patton tells him, and Roman strides into the kitchen.

He returns after a few minutes with a lunch identical to Virgil’s, except that the heap of vegetables is taller, and he has a second, already half-eaten slice of bread in his hand. Also his jam is a different color. Roman plonks himself down in the chair diagonally adjacent to Virgil and grins at him. “Good morning,” he says cheerfully. “I see you did not flee into the night like Cinderella.”

“If I was going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight, it would have happened well before Patton came to tell us to go to bed,” Virgil points out.

“True,” Roman agrees. He turns and points his fork at Patton. “Patty Cake, if he ever turns into a pumpkin, don’t bake him into a pie,” he says.

Patton laughs. “How many times must I promise not to eat him?” he asks.

“Once more, it seems,” Virgil says. “For what it’s worth, I believed you the first time.”

Patton’s eyes twinkle. “I appreciate that.”

“Did you sleep well?” Roman asks Virgil. Virgil nods. As if he could have slept poorly, in that bed. And it was certainly nice to get to sleep in late. “Good, good. After breakfast, do you wanna watch more tv?”

Virgil laughs. “You’re insatiable,” he says.

“We left off on a cliffhanger!” Roman defends. “And I, for one, was thoroughly enjoying myself up until the point at which we were reminded of the cruel passage of time and the physical needs of our frail human bodies.”

“I was having fun too,” Virgil agrees. And, well, he doesn’t have any better plans for his afternoon off. It’ll be fun. He’ll just have to remember to actually bike home before it gets dark again.

“Excellent!” Roman says, clearly taking that as a yes, and tucks into his meal with gusto.

~~~~

Chapter 9: Come for the Bike, Stay for the Game Night - WIP

may have a brief break in my regularly scheduled chapter posting, as I've caught up to myself and am still writing chapter 9. So, we'll see if it's ready next week, but likely not.

[nomaejie]

I need "beauty and the beast" Damianya AU !!!!!!!!!!!!!1111

[yanderenightmare]

TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility, murder of unnamed characters, mentions of potentially killing reader

fem reader

Just thinking about the apocalypse, the two army men who’ve long survived it in their shelter with barely any trouble, and then you, a poor girl trying hard to outrun your last captives only to run into them.  

You didn’t realize back then that it was like trading piranhas for sharks, too caught up in begging for their aid to think better of it. You should have just kept running, but your ankle was sprained badly, maybe even broken, and you were wearing so little you would most likely have died from the cold during the night if they hadn’t taken you in.

It seems unfair of them to have kept the giant bunker all to themselves, only the two of them, but you don’t judge. You would likely have kept it all to yourself as well.

This new world has bred new humans, and they’re all monsters. It’s honestly quite surprising they’d even let you in, given this is what they’re protecting, this sanctuary from the past, a comfort most people would kill their closest friend in exchange for.

Trust is all but dead, and so is honor or any other morality—you would know, you’ve lived out there for it all, only having survived by spreading your legs at the right moments. It’s a shameful tactic, and many times, you’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to spare yourself and just die. What was the purpose?

This—you think. This must be it. They have showers and working hot water.

You don’t know how it’s possible—the original owners of the shelter must have been some type of millionaire. You haven’t had a warm shower since the world went to shit—years ago. It’s been a choice of waiting for rain or finding a lake, hoping it wasn’t rancid. Meanwhile, they have soap—scented soap, the lush kind you’d forgotten existed. It feels so nice you have to cry—rejoice—sobbing while lathering yourself, watching all the filth go down the drain, leaving you smooth-skinned once again for the first time in forever. You can’t remember having ever been so clean before, feeling reborn.

They have fresh clothes for you too—new socks and underwear, all clean fabrics, so much more than what you wore—pants, a shirt, and a sweater to keep warm. You didn’t know there still existed people who lived like the old days—you’d thought it was long gone, a bittersweet dream you sometimes have the pleasure of at night instead of the usual nightmares. Never had you thought you’d experience anything even remotely similar, but here you are—looking yourself in the mirror after so long, surprised to see a human looking back at you.

And they feed you. Not scraps, not leftovers, not rot, or days-old flesh from the last successful hunt—but freshly baked bread, vegetables, fruit—for fuck’s sake, they even have juice. You cry again while eating, and then you find yourself begging them again, “Please, let me stay—please, I’ll do anything. I can cook, clean, work—anything at all, I can do it, just please let me stay…”

You’re on your knees, forehead pressed to the heated metal floors—toasty and comforting, you think you could sleep better than ever right there.

“We’ll think about it,” one of them mutters as he gathers the plates. His voice was so harsh he might as well have said, not a chance. It’s clear by his frown that he’d rather send you right out again, leave you to the monsters.

“We’ll at least let you stay until your ankle heals, so don’t worry.” The other is more sympathetic, helping you up. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind that they’d have beds—actual real soft downy mattresses and duvets and pillows. The two of you help make it together. It feels so foreign that you wonder if you might have died earlier. Some years back, you wouldn’t have thought heaven would resemble a prison cell, but now it only made sense—safe metal walls and a bed. What more could one possibly want in the world?

“I’ll wrap your leg for you if you sit.” He holds out a bandage roll, gesturing to your ankle.

Blinking, you can’t even register what he’d just offered until he’s getting down on his knees before you.

You panic, then. Bandages are hard to come by—it hardly seems worth it. “There’s no blood, you shouldn’t waste it—”

“It’ll heal better and faster this way,” he adds reassuringly. His voice is so soft and compelling that you find yourself sitting down without further quarrel, even when it makes you feel spoiled.

He’s gentle with you—holding you steady while wrapping it just tightly enough to be supportive. There hasn’t been a man who’s touched you like it.

“Does that feel okay?”

You can barely tell he’s talking to you. It’s all so lost on you that you can only wordlessly nod your head.

He fastens it just as carefully before standing. “Is there anything else you might need?”

You shake your head just as wordlessly. You can’t believe how nice he’s being. It makes no sense at all. Not in this world. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to lock the door,” he apologizes with a sheepish look once standing on the threshold.

You’d been stuck thinking about how warm the room was, trying to remember a single time you hadn’t been freezing during the night. “That’s okay, I understand,” you say. After all, what’s a locked door in comparison?

“Good,” he smiles—it’s likely the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, good night.”

Once again, you’re left stunned. The last time you’d heard those words spoken must have been from a loved one long since dead. It makes your lip wobble again as you say it back, “Good night.”

It's strange—they could have left you for dead but didn’t. They don’t seem gullible—they can’t be if they’ve managed to protect this place for so long—but you suppose there still exist men who have a soft spot in their hearts for helpless damsels in distress.

As you sink into the comfort, draping your duvet atop your battered body, you don’t even care about the camera in the ceiling—blinking red while watching you.

“Did you have to bandage her up?” he grumbles as the other walks into the bedroom after having said his goodnights to you. 

He’s already in bed, observing through the cameras on a tablet—you were currently curling into the duvet, wrapping it around you close for comfort. You’d likely not slept on anything so soft in a while—it wouldn’t surprise him if you preferred the floor. But no, you drift asleep quite quickly.

“You know how badly things can heal without proper support,” the other answers, regarding it as no big deal. “And besides, it’s not like we often need it—we have plenty to spare.”

He removes his clothes and crawls onto the bed as well, lifting the covers to slot himself right next to the other man, who still has a scowl on his face.

“Oh, come on…” he drawls. “She’s exactly what we’ve been talking about, isn’t she?”

The grump doesn’t answer, still with keen eyes watching you, even as you’ve fallen asleep—as if waiting for you to do something befitting a wild animal in a cage. The other’s eyes fall to the screen as well, but he only awes in delight.

“Look at her, already fast asleep,” he purrs while zooming in on your face. “I mean, did you see how she was begging earlier, what she said? I’d do anything,” he continues, almost whining. “So cute, I could have fucked her right then and there.”

The other man sets the tablet aside with a disagreeing sigh. “We’ll wait at least a week for her system to detoxify from the wasteland,” he says strictly. “I’m not touching her before then, and neither are you unless you want to sleep alone.”

The other groans then, flopping down on his back. “Yeah, yeah, you and your safety protocols,” he dismisses before a smirk creeps up his face, glee twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at his grouchy counterpart. “But then we keep her, right?”

“Tch—we don’t even know if she’s fertile. The wasteland could have made her barren as long as she’s been out there,” the other shuffles down into the sheets as well, turning to look at his partner and the awfully keen look on his face.

“So we test her. Give her a medical check,” he says, again as if it’s not a problem, even when it very well could turn out to be.

They’ve already broken quarantine rules by letting you in here—and who knows what your real objectives truly are.

“I don’t trust her,” he states.

The other pouts. “I don’t see what one little lady can do—she’s hardly a threat. And we already purged the group that was following her. I doubt any of them made it out alive.”

True, he had gone out and sent several gas grenades into the settlement. Surely, none of them managed to escape, but then again—

“Pest control only works when you kill them all, and we’ve just let one inside our own house,” he grumbles.

The other one sighs. “Okay, so if it turns out she isn’t as cute as she looks, we’ll deal with her like the rest. But if I’m right, and she really is just a harmless little thing, we keep her, and I get to have the first go.”

Suppose there isn’t anything better to do aside from killing you straight away, which would only have been a waste of food, water, clothes, and bandages. 

“Fine.”

The other grins at the agreeance, humming, “I guess until then, we’ll just have to make do with each other—I've been hard since we watched her shower.” He leans forward for contact but is shut down as his bedmate rolls around with his back turned to him.

“Tch—take care of it yourself.” Tonight has been too stressful to tug each other’s dicks. 

He can hear him whine behind him, but he settles down soon enough.

Suppose it would be nice fucking a woman again. It’s been so many years he figured he wouldn’t need it anymore. They’ve made do with each other so far. But even he can’t deny, once you’d washed all the blood and muck off, once he saw the dewy hue of your soft skin and the silk of your hair, all those plush curves, and not to mention that awfully sweet look on your face—he felt the tug in his pants too.

He'll do a medical check on you tomorrow. He hopes you’re fertile. But even if you’re not, he might give in to the other’s wishes and keep you anyway. After all, they might have many luxuries, but the comfort of pussy is one they haven’t had in a long, long, long time.

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta, ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[fastandcarlos]

Bump Cuddles : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: watching you pregnant is a dream for max, especially with your bump there on offer for him to always snuggle up to

His eyes landed on you as soon as you walked into your bedroom, Max’s smile turned up as he watched you close the door behind you, knowing that was you for the night. You placed your phone down before perching on the edge of the bed, slowly rolling onto your back and stretching out. 

As you reached up, the material of your pyjama shirt lifted up, revealing your babu bump. “Look at you,” Max chuckled, instinctively moving towards you and placing his hand on your exposed skin. 

“This thing is lethal these days,” you chuckled, relaxing under the pressure of the warmth of Max’s hand. “I could do some serious damage if I wanted to with this thing.” 

“Tell me about it,” Max chuckled, all too familiar with being on the receiving end of you barging him forgetting how much space you now needed to get around. “Just think, there’s only a few more weeks to go until you won’t have this anymore.” 

“I can’t wait,” you laughed as Max turned his frame around so that his head was resting just beside your bump too. “The bump might look nice, but it’s the most impractical thing in the world.” 

With your bump growing day by day, you were finding it harder and harder to manage. Max was struggling to sit back and watch you, knowing that there was very little that he could do to help you. He did as much as he could, more than enough as far as you were concerned, but he still felt as if he could do more. 

“This is the stage that I’ve looked forward to the most,” Max admitted, brushing his hand over the surface of your bump, pushing your shirt up. “It’s so cuddly and the size of it too, no matter what you’re doing, or wearing, it just looks incredible.” 

As your bump became more prominent, Max’s excitement grew. He was glued to your side whenever he was around you, his hands couldn’t get enough of feeling your bump and the little movements of your son who was wriggling around inside. 

“Do you need anything?” Max asked you, realising that you were settling for the night. “Can I get you anything to make you more comfortable?” 

Your head shook in reply to Max. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt properly comfortable, but you were settled at least for now. Max was used to you being pretty restless, happy to do whatever he needed to do to help you whenever you needed to shuffle. 

“Let me know if you change your mind,” he added, reminding you once again that he was there for you, offering you a sympathetic smile as your eyes met his. 

Your hand came down, brushing through Max’s hair as he made himself comfortable to lay down beside your bump for a little while. “I think he must know that you’re home as he’s been kicking around a lot more than usual today.” 

“Has he?” Max excitedly asked, quickly moving his hand around wondering whether he could feel one for himself, having missed the feeling of your baby’s kicks during his weekend away racing in Qatar. 

You could only chuckle at the excitement on Max’s face, searching and searching for that sweet spot. He made no secret of the fact that feeling your son’s kicks was his favourite part of your pregnancy, every single time excited him as if it was the very first time he’d felt it.  

“What are you going to cuddle when the baby arrives?” You teased. 

“I might actually have to cuddle you again, not your bump.” 

When you first fell pregnant your bump baffled Max, he couldn’t believe how you had a little human growing inside. Now though, he couldn’t imagine the last few months without it, cuddling up to it had become a habit for Max without him even realising he was nearing it most of the time. 

“Sometimes I feel as if I’ve forgotten what you look like without your bump,” he laughed, continuing to move his hand around in search of a sign. 

You nodded in agreement with Max, having forgotten what your feet looked like having been unable to see them for quite a few weeks. “I think my body will be glad when what’s growing in the bump is on the outside, not the inside causing me any pain.” 

“Are you in pain now?” Max nervously asked, immediately panicking. His doubtful eyes looked at you as your head shook, but trusted you all the same. 

Max had always done a good job of taking care of you, but your pregnancy had introduced you to a whole new world with max. Protective was an understatement to describe how he treated you from the moment he found out you were pregnant. 

“I’m scared you know,” Max suddenly whispered, “our son will be tiny, I’m scared when I cuddle him out of your bump I’ll squash him or something.” 

You couldn't help but laugh as Max spoke, “you’ve had plenty of experience holding babies and you’ve managed not to squash any of them.” 

“But they weren’t mine,” he added, “I’ll give them an extra cuddle knowing that he’s mine.” 

Your hand continued to brush through his hair, “trust me, if you look like you’re going to crush our son then I’ll be sure to let you know.” 

The way his mind worked fascinated you, especially as Max seemed to overthink everything. He wanted every little thing to be perfect and would stop at nothing to make sure that it was. Every possible scenario had been considered by Max, even those that seemed completely out of the ordinary. 

“I think once the baby is here you’ll forget about me,” you joked, “you’ll only want to cuddle our son rather than cuddle up to me.” 

Max’s eyes were wide as he tilted them up to look at you. “There’s no way that I’ll ever forget about you, with these broad shoulders I’ll be able to hold the two of you without any problems at all.” 

“You know I’m only messing with you,” you replied, surprised by how serious Max was as he responded to you. 

“I’ll cuddle you more than ever once the baby is here,” Max assured you, moving his hand from your bump to rest against the top of yours. “I’ll cuddle you forever in appreciation for all that you’re about to put your body through in order to make our family complete.” 

As the two of you fell silent, you quickly grabbed Max’s hand placing it against your bump. Luckily for him, you got it there just in time as your son kicked out exactly where the palm of Max’s hand rested. 

“There he is,” Max chuckled, snuggling in closer to your bump, savouring the feeling of your baby letting you know that he was there. 

“That’s the hardest he’s kicked all day,” you breathed, taking a deep breath through the discomfort. “Obviously he’s very happy to have his daddy home too.” 

Max’s eyes studied you closely, “only a couple more weeks and you’ll be able to rest in peace again sweetheart, without all these interruptions.” 

“Are you forgetting the fact that we’ll have a screaming baby instead who will happily keep us up all night long Max?” 

“Let’s just forget about that for now,” he sniggered. 

Your head nodded in agreement, “I don’t know about you, but I’d quite like to make the most of these last few weeks with our bump.” 

“Me too,” Max smirked, “I’ve not got long left to cuddle this bump of yours, and I’m determined to make the most of it.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[postmortemnivis]

no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her.

simon really meant it, every bit of it, he’d come back to you somehow. he would find his way back to you. wether it was walking through the front door quietly not to wake you up in the middle of the night or cold in a coffin. he’d rather have you hold his dead body than not to have you touch his skin ever again.

that’s what simon was thinking about as his ear ringed so loud he couldn’t focus on his surroundings. he looked up at the sky, so blue it almost didn’t feel right. why so blue when so much blood was being shed?

he occasionally would feel the ground he was laying on tremble, maybe a hand grenade, maybe a body falling next to his. the smell of gunpowder filled his covered nostrils and he could feel his lungs collapsing on themselves from the thickness of the air he was breathing. his eyes weren’t doing good either, filled with dust and sand from the dry earth.

it took him a few more seconds to focus his eyes on something, something that possibly wasn’t moving, his head spinning each time he tried to sit up. something was weighting on his legs, holding him down. he struggled to raise his torso and groaned at the sight of a large body blocking him. he let himself fall back down.

he was ready to go, a sharp pain to his side telling him he wouldn’t last long alone. he’d been through worse, way worse, the scar provided by the meat hook was proof of that, but something was telling him this was as bad. he was ready to go.

the only thing he could think about in his last moments was you. he thought he could see glimpses of you, maybe your hair in the corner of his eyes or he’d hear your laugh as another fire shooting started. his eyes searched for you frantically. he wanted to tell you to leave immediately, scream it at the top of his lungs, but his voice was caught in his throat and you weren’t really there. his mind just playing cruel tricks on him.

your name was repeated like a mantra in his head, repeating it so many times it almost lost a meaning. almost. a prayer, a chant. he sure needed to pray, for you.

he had been shelving the thought that tormented him for months. he wanted to go and confess his sins, he almost felt the need, his palms itching with haste anytime he thought about it. years had passed since the last time he had set foot in a church, so many that he had almost forgotten the reason for the visit. the ghosts of the past never abandon you, especially if they are people you love, especially if they are family, the innocent. its always the innocent who pay the highest price.

‘i wonder what she’s doing now, who’s gonna knock on her door and tell her im gone.’ he thought. ‘hopefully price. he’s the one with tact and the most considerate. he’ll help her when i’m gone, keep an eye on her.’

the sweet smell of your hair replaced for a moment the one of blood and gunpowder, your laughter still echoing in his ears. he pictured your sweet face and big innocent eyes looking up at him.

“promise me something?”

“mhm?” he hummed, surprised you were still up. his hand hadn’t stopped caressing your hair since you laid down on his chest, your hand resting on his collarbone as your ear listened to his calm heartbeat. “yeah, anything.”

“promise me you’ll always come back.” you whispered in the dark room. “promise me, simon.”

he nodded, taken aback by your request. you weren’t the fondest of his job, he knew it, he hated to concern you like he did.

“yes.”

“promise.” you urged. “please.”

he bent his head down and kissed the top of yours, his arm sliding down your back and drawing you closer by your waist. “i will, love. i’ll always come back to you.”

you sighed, the knot of thoughts in your worried head began to untie. “mh.”

“better now?” he softly asked. his voice was hoarse from his constant shouting orders at the obstreperous recruits. you gave a short nod. “i mean it.”

he groaned as he managed to get the body off of himself, struggling to get on his knees.

fucks sake, he couldn’t let you live with him gone like this. it was selfish of him to leave you in such an abrupt way, really. he tried to push away the image of you opening the door to find price with a carton box filled with simons stuff from the barracks with the balaclava and skull mask on top and your knees hitting the floor before he could even say anything.

his legs didn’t feel like they could hold his weight up, he immediately fell to his knees as he heard another rapid fire too near him for his liking. his gun was long gone, he had to manage to survive alone, again.

“crawlin’ it is.” he breathed as he started to drag his tired body with the strength of his arms alone. you had always praised his strength: he could lift you with one arm alone, you loved to be held and hold on to his arm anywhere and at anytime. that was the main reason he always pushed for more while training, and the motivation your sweet compliments always gave him now were gonna save his life. he made a mental note to kiss and hold you a little longer and tighter if he ever made it home alive.

he could see the building his team was supposed to meet up in case things got bad. it looked so far away that it was alarmingly close. maybe it was just his messed up vision, a mirage, but he could swear he saw you from a window looking at him, urgently motioning him to come.

he brought the thick balaclava above his nose so he could breathe better and as enemy gunfire continued to flow, he kept his head low as he moved dead bodies from his way.

he could hear your voice calling for him and he wanted to call you for you back, but the noises of the battlefield were hurrying him to get to the safe zone first.

he stumbled by the door as he brought himself up, one hand stabilizing him as he held on to the doorframe as the other went to press on his wound.

“lt!” johnnys voice called before he rushed to help him. “ye cheeky bastard, i told them not to leave yet, to wait for ye.”

“gaz saw you get shot.” price swung simon’s arm over his shoulder in order to help him to the nearest table, where he laid down.

“he saw that right.” simon bit the inside of his cheek as price inspected his wound, pressing on it. “is he a‘ight?”

“he’s fine, hit his head but had his helmet on, he’s getting checked out by the medics.” price informed him as simon winced at the sharp pain. “there’s at least two bullets in here, didn’t pass through, stuck.”

“just take ‘em the fuck out.” simon groaned. “how’s it lookin’?”

“you’ll live.” price patted his shoulder in comfort before he went to call a medic.

“we really thought we’d lost ye there, lt.” johnny’s face was glowing with sweat and blood, the black war paint smudged messily all around his face and his mohawk dusted.

“helicopter’s leaving in thirty, boys!” price’s baritone voice called from the other room.

simon scoffed, sighing and closing his eyes, finally letting himself relax as your figure started to fade from the corner of the room where it’d been standing, silently looking at him. “won’t lose me, can’t wait to go home, johnny.”

[controld3vil]

the one

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x targ!reader

synopsis: thrown into madness, not one person can comfort the king of his thoughts. his sister wife left to deal with her grief. his mother for chooses not to heed his needs. his brother, gone in silver of the night. yet you, left forgotten stand in front of him, teary eyed.

notes: i gasped loud this episode!!

content warning: spoilers obvi for s2ep2, themes of grief and inferiority, targcest; if you are uncomfortable, please do not interact.

The death of Jaehearys exhausted you.

Nothing prepared you for the shock and emotional consequences. It felt as though a giant sea storm had swept away your emotions and feelings of sense. Because in a way, you felt numb and unable to comprehend what you were feeling. It was either too strong or your denial in it that made you feel out of it. In the confidence of your home, the grand kingdom of your father and his grandsire before, suddenly you feel apprehensive about where you resided and the castle itself. Who to trust and not as a moment noticed in your head as your mind spirals down a rabbit hole. 

Your nephew, a kin of your own, was dead. 

He was murdered in cold blood. In the sanctum of your home, in the privacy of the royal rooms. It was your fault you were not by Helaena’s side. Oh, your poor sister, the turmoil she must’ve endured in the small moments last with her son. A small piece of purity and semblance he brought into your little life and a beacon of what you strived for every day. Yet now, it has all turned to blood and dust. Used and tossed away like the sacs of bodies they would throw off dead soldiers in the aftermath of a tiring battle. 

There you sat with a half cup of wine, undrank. You dared not step out of the chambers of your comfort. Not for long, your presence would be reminded of the council. You insist on every meeting that your presence would bestow better acquisition. In most eyes, the men divert their gaze from you.

In contrast, your wretched mother opens her mouth agape with hardly any words being supported. Your grandsire contrasts, always with an excuse that you should be needed elsewhere other than the higher discussion. How benign of you, dear granddaughter. But you are unfit for a position at court.

Otto Hightower would never speak those words directly. But you know in your heart and his intuition, the words are nearly there. You don’t need an interpreter to translate what is said by the councilmen. Even if they are unaware, you understand all that is said. A tragic incident, Your Grace. The Kingsguard are doing their best to inspect all the members in the castle as we speak.

“I will have it! They will pay for this!”

The dried tears that swept down your cheeks felt sticky and annoyingly guilt-ridden of the events that had happened. You would not allow them to witness them. They were not worthy of your sadness. In grace, you hiked your dress over your feet to climb up to the doors. From where you were, you could discern the murmurs of Aegon and his hysterical yelling, absolutely mad with anger and rage. Respectfully so, the loss of his child was an unexpected and stressful one. 

When the chambers open, the rest of the councilmen stop for a moment. Before you begrudgingly make your way to the center. “Gentlemen,” You are at fault in giving away your tearful expression, the candlelight's of the chandeliers do your angelic features justice. And no noble would dare to speak upon its beauty and sorrow. All while, your lady in waiting, trails timidly behind you, head pointed down in respect. “Your Grace,” You address, and finally for a blind second, a glint of relief flashes on Aegon’s face. Finally, he must think, someone he trusts abides in the room.

“Princess,” The Hand levels his chin, leaving a steady foot of your unforeseen appearance. Beside him, your mother lays agape in both deary and fortification. 

The Queen stumbles on the syllables of your name, quietly. As if she was citing a wrongful plea of desperation. “Is- Is Helaena?” Of course, the last she saw you was in her bed chambers, coming in to console your sweet sister and her child. Alicent was running amuck, pulling on the fabric of her dress to prevent you from witnessing her privacies before. Luckily you didn't have to witness that. 

“She is with Ser Arryk and Jaeheara.” You breathed out, soft and mellow. You can tell by the exhale of your mother and grandsire's shoulders that deflating meant that their worries were at least accomplished. And a slight corner of your eye, your brother too relaxes in caution, aware of his wife and daughter’s whereabouts. 

“Good good,” Alicent frantically nods as if trying to reassure herself that her child and granddaughter were safe. Ser Arryk was a noble knight, one who betrayed his twin to stay beside the king’s side. That alone was enough to prove his loyalty and servitude. “Thank you, my daughter.” You swallow with a gaping hole in your throat. The whole room felt the compacting of the many eyes directed at you and the Queen Mother. 

“And what might be the reason for your intrusion on this council meeting, princess?” Otto’s voice somewhat triggers a fight or flight response in you. You’ve dealt with similar situations before, wanting to be included in the war business. However this was different, the council was discussing matters of potential betrayal and the killing of your kin. You suddenly felt targeted for the offense of interrupting something crucial and overriding. 

However, you know you should have a say in this matter. “Shouldn’t I be present when the death of my nephew has been informed to me merely hours ago?” There was a snap in your voice that many of them knew. Though some such as your mother and brother were accustomed to that sound more often. 

“Perhaps it is best if the princess were with the Queen to rest away comfort and grief,” Maester Orwyle suggests only to infuse your temper. 

In a quick turn, your lilac orbs strike an alarming resemblance to vexation and hostility. “Why?” Your tone was sharp and accusing just as it was. The Queen Regent could only watch and stare mutely at your grueling pettiness. Lord Tyland and Ser Criston Cole dare not to look at you but at the maester. While Aegon, all the more slightly frustrated at Maester Orwyle’s comments, stops and waits for your dreadful retaliation like a venomous viper. Otto couldn’t look more disappointed in you. 

“The death of your nephew is a tearful one, princess. And maybe you should stay within the quarters with the Queen for safety.” The maester does not falter in his reasoning, knowing how quick and ill-tempered you are similar to your brother was to retaliation. But his expression flickers in doubt shortly after you are seen to lay your palms on the edge of the end of the table. It’s hard wooden material, clenched tightly around your hands as you glance up at the councilman with fury in your eyes. 

“I am more capable than you think of me, Maester Orwyle. And I would be damned to sit in silence and pity for this horrendous murder!” You snarl, a frown forming at the edges of your lips. You were livid beyond this. Only when you want to be present in the decisions regarding your kin, did the council decline your way. It’s insulting. “My nephew should be avenged! To whoever ordered the murder!” 

“I wholeheartedly agree,” The Hand’s inclusion is an attempt to bring a truce between the others who felt your presence as much of a disturbance. “But we should not be hasty and leave every opportunity out in the open.” 

“This is my son we are talking about,” Aegon’s hand came down with a thump on the table. He’s since calmed down but you know there is still rage in his heart. The fuel of it burning and churning for the desire to find and kill whoever brought out the murder. “We must search the grounds for traitors, find anyone who leaves the Red Keep, and capture them immediately!”

“Of course, Your Grace but we should consider what this would be for Rhaenyra,” Alicent reminds the room when she scans everyone’s thoughts and faces. On the other hand, you stand uncomfortably, with the sense of your legs growing numb. 

“That bitch queen of bastards will pay!” The King screams, pointing with an accusative finger. “She is on her throne, laughing at me for this! For the death of my son, I want her dead!” It’s like a fire has been lit in your brother’s mind. It flashes and flickers rapidly as he manages to strike and spit out outrage of his growing vengeance on the Black Queen. However quick his temper simmers and rises.

The coming morning of Jaehaerys funeral drags his body to the Sept to be burnt in Targaryen tradition. More importantly, it is to sway the people’s opinion of Aegon’s claim and blame Rhaenyra for the tragic death. Spurs of propaganda flourish in the crowds as the chariot drags the casket of the fresh body, followed by the Queen and her Regent. What felt like discomfort and suffocation for Helaena only her no semblance through the entire morning. She is grieving and mourning in her own way. No one can understand the loss of a mother of her children. It is the tragedy she has felt for the first time and it stings her to her stomach. For most of the ride, Helaena could not breathe or look at the folk people, afraid of what they might do. She’d never left the Keep like this before, presented all fragile and glorious as the new Queen officially. 

Even so, she knows you are more suited for the role. Helaena has thought of it many times where you should’ve been wife to Aegon instead of her. She knows why her mother and grandsire chose her. It was because she was compliant and willing to do her duty as a lady wife. While you had no sense of duty. More or less, so did Aegon but at least she would elevate his image as King with her kind personality. 

“Helaena,” You spoke, interrupting her thoughts amid her sewing. Your sister pauses and then looks at the piece she has been working on. It was a picture of purple lily flowers, something you had mentioned wanting to see from the grounds of the Highgarden. She thinks of you and subconsciously starts to sew a new patch of thread. She’s sweet to you like that, and you forever cherished that side of her. And it's a shame her softened voice always now came with a stutter and droop of a sob. 

Helaena wakes up from her daze and greets you with a warm yet sombreros smile. “You are well?” The question itself leaves bitterness off of your tongue because you should be asking her that. You know Helaena isn’t one to openly express her emotions and thoughts proudly. As her sister, you honor that but also can become the maternal figure she needs within seconds. 

“I should be asking you the same,” You smile, looking smug and all. And your sister’s droopy eyes slowly lighten with glee. Her small frown turns upside down and suddenly you feel your heart fill with warmth and joy. “What has the Queen been sewing all this time?” 

“Purple lilies,” She gently shows you her work and focuses on your excitement. What she appreciates is your fascination with her skill with a thread and needle. You had no talent in it, much to your mother’s display. But you would gladly watch your sister sew for hours for the fun of it. “I remember you mentioning them a while ago. And I thought it would be pretty to make for you,” 

“How thoughtful of you,” You plead with your gentle eyes, resting a hand on her thigh. You looked like you were going to burst into tears out of happiness for her nonsensical act. You act differently around her and the children, sometimes Helaena thinks you have two personalities. One with her family minus Aegon and another with everyone else. You were mushy and caring, nothing like yourself hours earlier in the morrow in the councilroom. She had heard you burst into a meeting, enraged by them claiming you as a disturbance to their discussion. Like the stubborn person you were, she knew you would rather stay and argue with them for hours. And that you, for her boy. 

The Queen hums, delighted by your soothing presence in her slightly dimmed room. The room had been cleared of children's beds and toys. Now it lies barren with little to no furniture. The curtains did not change, they were arranged simply to allow some light into the chambers to let the children wake. But now, there would be none and it is left abandoned. 

“How is Jaeheara?” The whisper of your voice is the only thing she’s heard after minutes of silence. Helaena does not reply immediately, knowing her thoughts are too invasive and terrifying to think about. The black gown she still has on feels tight and makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't want to remember the funeral. It was too much for her to reminisce about despite being hours earlier. 

She makes another loop with bright purple stringing onto her needle. “She is well and is accompanied by a Kingsguard during her lessons,” She makes sure to include the Kingsguard, knowing you have been adamant about the protection and security around King’s Landing. As of late, it felt as though the castle did not feel like home anymore. It became somewhat of a hollow skeleton of a dungeon. With many escape routes and corridors, people would walk in and out without notice. It terrifies her and knowing you, you would rather be killed than have another child murdered. 

Her response pleases you however Helaena is aware of something else on your mind. She can feel it without looking at your face to know. It’s your inseparable bond as a sister that you sometimes were astounded by. Helaena calls it a bond and maybe she is right. Your eyes are focussed on somewhere else and it gives her a moment to look at you. Your brows furrowed with a subtle curve of a scowl makes her believe you were having negative thoughts. Were you feeling guilty about Jaehearys death?

“What’s wrong sister?” Despite her knowing the reason, Helaena wants you to admit your remorseful thoughts. The veil that covered her face was no longer present and she could face you without barriers. Her lilac eyes look at you, softening at you. 

“I can’t help but think I am guilty of Jaehearys death,” You sound vulnerable, no other person would witness this side of you. Because you shielded this side of you. Your display of weakness was only meant for people like Helaena, close to you, unjudging and caring in your coping. Yet sometimes you think of your sinful thoughts of guilt to be an act of punishment. You sometimes felt you were meant to feel this way for not being present with the Queen and her children when it happened. Why couldn’t you be a good sister and protect the ones you loved?

“You should not be,” Her small palm cradles the side of your jaw, making your stare connect with her. Helaena is quiet and gentle in her expression of words. What she says always has an impact. She is a woman of few words and it makes her speech inspirational. “I- For anything, it was my part as a mother, for letting my child be murdered in cold blood-”

“No of course not!” You were quick to retaliate to her pleas. She could not be responsible for such a horrific act taken against the crown. “Helaena, you did your best to protect your children.”

“Yet I was asked to choose,” The bottom of her lips quivered, and eventually hot tears filled her waterline. “And I had no other choice!”

“You were held at knifepoint,” You grasped the hand that held your jaw. Gently and slowly to make sure and emphasize her attention to you. “I would’ve bursted into the room and offered myself if I could’ve. But you did the best you did as a mother to protect your children.” You gave her another tight squeeze. 

“I had no other choice,” Her sobs slowly brewing. And the tears flowed and there was nothing you wanted to do other than comfort your dear sister. She was grieving like any mother. You would be present for her and give Helaena all of the world, to give away her sorrow. However, it is inevitable and you best offer her your condolences and feelings of heartbreak. Because you did love her children, Jaehearys and Jaeheara. The light and beacon of Helaena and Aegon's marriage. 

Helaena’s figure dwindled as she scrunched herself forward into a curling ball. The weight of her thoughts was too much. As a parent, she believed she failed the role she was meant to play. Her cries did not stop or steady in a rapid heartbeat. Any further, Helaena believes she would’ve acted impulsively if not for you, holding onto her shoulders. You were gentle against her tragic and frail body when you allowed her head and shoulders to rest against your chest. You’re silent in the comfort you gave. Because no words could pursue more than your actions. Being the more responsible and maternal figure, you became a weeping shoulder for Helaena to spout the rest of her worries and anguish. 

You wonder what Aegon and his sorrows are. 

Criston Cole was in a predicament. He failed as a Kingsguard to protect the royal family. And because of his absence, a dead prince was left at the doorstep of the king. He’s ashamed in silence because he could not make any reason for where he was during the intrusion of the castle. His affair with Alicent was more than a passionate one. It consoled him and eased for the upcoming days of Aegon’s coronation and Rhaenyra’s horrific deeds. The knight was stuck in a situation he wished would not bring to the public eye. No one can know of his relations with the Queen Regent. Not when times were suspenseful and dire as to who to trust in the castle. 

And so, after he challenges Ser Arryk to do the impossible and slay the Black Queen within her quarters of Dragonstone, he desires to focus on his plans with the king. The afternoon following the prince’s funeral, Ser Criston smoothes out the ends of his locks, recomposing his hysterical manner against the twin knight. Of, the accusations of treason against the king and the knight’s code. He should be honoring the Kingsguard words at the back of his sleeves by now. For all that has occurred to him, Criston wants to prove to the king he is capable of being essential. 

The summer breeze is faint and noticeable to those in the Red Keep. It’s open corridors and windows, it is the perfect spot for sunlight. The Kingsguard makes his way to Aegon’s chambers, where he plans to inform his schemes of sending Ser Arryk away to Dragonstone. In hopes, it would please His Majesty of the constant restless nights he has experienced. 

But he nearly misses you. It takes a second for Ser Criston to take a step back and look back at what you have been doing. You, the princess, looking out of place in the training area of the stables. Where knights and stable boys fight and practice their combat. It was a place you’re likely forbidden to be, however, it has never stopped you. The knight knows of your ambitions to fight like your brothers. You’re eager, more confident than your siblings to practice. He had suggested once to the Queen that she should allow you use of the sword. For self-defense and hobbies. 

You practically begged Alicent to hold a sword in your hands. Your cute chubby cheeks as a small child were something he remembered sometimes. You were so eager then. He could still see it occasionally when you ventured to the training area, staring at the knights practicing their moves and defenses. 

“Are you alright, princess?” Ser Criston appears behind you and you’re suddenly aware he must’ve been standing behind you for some time. He knows you come here to think and be reminded of the past. “The morrow has been rather bleak has it not?”

“Rather too bleak,” You groan, crossing your arms and rubbing your forehead in weariness. You’re aware the Kingsguard is not allowed to probe your troubles further but you rather indulge. “The day grows weary for the wavering support of the other Houses.” A quiet nod of endearment is seen from the knight as he reminisces about why they had exhibited the funeral exactly. To spread rumors and weaken the queen bastards' claim.

“It will help us in the long run, princess,” He steps forward as you turn to stare at his gentle Dornish features. Maybe in another lifetime, you would’ve fallen for him if he wasn’t a knight.

“Is that what the Queen Regent said?” A switch and it was like your tone turned to bitterness the moment you mentioned your mother. Ser Criston feels his heartache at your sentiments to the Queen. She was your mother and loved you very much. Something you can’t seem to appreciate whenever you open your mouth in front of the council. While she has complained and spouted worries of your deterring interactions, you’ve taken glory in the distance between you and your mother. Ser Criston hopes one day you will reprimand that relationship. 

“No,” 

“Tell me, why do you value her opinion so much?” He eyes at you shaking your head with a heavy scowl of disgust. Your hatred towards your mother ran cold and poisonous, under the depths of your hard-spoken shell of a heart. Maybe some part of you did care about the Queen. If there was, Criston had never been able to witness it, you’re too stubborn. And you know Alicent cherishes him deeply. 

“She has a kind heart,” The Dornish man cannot more than understand why you probe his opinion of your mother. Were you suspicious? He’s served your mother for nearly a decade and gained her trust as her right-hand protector. Yet where was he when an intruder entered the castle grounds and left Helaena traumatized and crying? 

You snarl a mocking laugh, “A kind heart?” You’re staring at the Queen’s protector with discontent and failure. “She plots and schemes to gain the people's trust over my brother’s claim. What more is she than the Hand’s right-hand puppet.” This is an alarming accusation because Ser Criston knows Alicent does not trust her father with her boys and daughters. You were an example of that. Whoever she plots with, he knows she takes into consideration who is affected the most. She was the Queen of course. Dainty and considerate of her subjects. 

“Another advantage we have over Rhaenyra, princess,” He reminds you of the whole reason why the council decided such a thing. It’s grueling yet would sway the people in their favor towards the crown than that false liar of a ruler across the land. “Understand that everything she and the council decide is to gain more allies,” 

“By simply lying to the public and creating more web of lies for us to be stuck in,” You probe and your lilac orbs glow in a dark tone. You could not stand the ploy they had used for Jaehaerys funeral. You think it was anything but honorable, to use your nephew as a cause and leeway to denounce your half-sister. Ser Criston gives you a look, only a parent would hold when their child does something to disappoint them. And even though he was not your father, he still felt utterly responsible and devoted to you as one. He has seen you grow from a child to a woman. He’s aware of your struggle in your place at court. He was there when you desperately wanted to hold a bow and arrow, practically crying to your mother on your knees. He was also there to comfort you when you accidentally drove your dragon into a terrible accident. Criston Cole felt some kind of platonic love over you, despite you never feeling the same way. ‘

Yet he couldn’t help but agree with you. “You’re right, princess. But it is the only way to convince the townsfolk of our cause. We need their support to win this coming war.” He sees your shoulders slumped, most likely growing tired of talking back and forth of their intention to false news. You hated how everyone agreed to it wholeheartedly. 

“We need more than the support of the townsfolk to win a war,” Your lips turn to a thin line, contemplating all the reasons why you had to be on the wrong side of justice. “We have dragons, that is how we win a war.” 

Nightfall was as unanticipated as it was wanted. The funeral and rumors from the council made it unbearable to walk past servants and nobles without being reminded of it. There were many times you wished to stop in front of the people and shout in their faces. There would be no denying it all. However, you were done with it. You were tired of receiving the same piece of news and rumors. It made you hereditarily furious and petty like a child. But no violence has been spilled. Instead, you could only clench your palms, aggressively and move on with a faint scowl. A puff or two would break your cover. 

Moreover, the servant girls and maids knew what made you tick. The type of gossip you hate to talk and listen about. Since you’ve lived in the castle for the entirety of your life span. So regardless of whether they spoke of today’s events or not, people knew you were not in a great mood. More or less you were agitated, imitating, and not to be consoled.

You made it your routine to visit Helaena before going to bed. When you were younger, you and your sister often paid visits to your mother and sometimes your father if present. Queen Alicent would soothe your worries and nightmares while Viserys sat in silence, unable to speak due to the pain. Yet now, that was before you and Helaena slept in the same room. She was Queen now and had a separate room with her children. It was you who made it customary to ease her worries at night and say goodnight to her children. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, her beautiful children. Even now, after everything had happened, you wanted to honor your promise to visit the new Queen. 

The granite tiles were cold. You could feel it despite wearing soft padded shoes. Your garments were loose and free from the restraints and pains you’d worn for the day. But somehow it made you feel anxious and oddly vulnerable out in the open. Of course, it was natural to feel this way after what happened. But everything, even the times you felt the most safe was now invaded by thoughts of fear and concern. You swallowed whatever security you had and moved along the balcony inside King’s Landing. The royal rooms were all the same, but you knew which belonged to whose. You knew which rooms were your mother’s, your sister’s, which had the best hiding spots, and which had the quickest way out of the city. 

Although whose room brought you the most curiosity was the one in front of you. In the distance, where you stood, a figure of green exits out of the room and disappears into the darkness. Your mother. Alicent did not seem to be in a rush to have exited Aegon’s chambers nor did she look content coming out of it. It looked as though she had mistaken his room for another. 

Hastily your paused movements began to quicken. As you tip-toed towards the doors of your king, you twist the knob and a soft creak makes you curse out of anonymity. The bed chamber was dimly lit and the fireplace illuminated a gorgeous orange dew that covered half the room in warmth. The drapes of the windows were slightly closed, making the silhouette of Aegon, hunched over more evident. He leans in a cushioned chair by the fire and you can see his unsecured locks, shape the sides of his face. 

You quickly realize your brother’s sobbing, saddening and heartbreaking. For all the things he was, Aegon did not deserve to lose a child. You understood very much as him that Alicent had planned his coronation for a long time. Yet now that it has happened, tragedies come down like dominoes in a panic. Lucerys has died on dragonback. And now Jaehearys was murdered in cold blood. Both are innocents from the result of this pretentious battle for power between Rhaenyra. It is when you shut the door behind you with a faint click, you make yourself known to the king. 

“Aegon,” It’s a whisper with no silence. Covering his face to shield his tears, Aegon does not dare to look at you. He looks ashamed and can only stare down, lost and in failure.  You understand his dismissal of your presence. No one should see their king as weak like this. Not even his closest kin and mother. Only that his mother has witnessed this scene a multitude of times over the years of watching over her son. Still, you were not the type to witness Aegon at such a low point like this. 

Nothing. You wanted nothing from him, seconds ago only curious about his profound discussion with your mother, who did not seem to speak to him at all. Something about that makes your heart churn at the Queen Regent. You walk slowly and only when you finally face him, his gaze is still on the floor, unable to lift his head to say anything. Go away! You’re making a fool out of yourself. 

Instead, you closed the gap that separated the two of you. You clasped his neck and held it firmly in a consoling manner. His weeping only grew louder the moment he felt your touch, so comforting and soft. His hands eventually wrap themselves around your waist and he rests the side of his head against your stomach.

Only you can soothe him like this. It’s discovered to be the most effective way for Aegon to calm down, your touch perhaps was the solution to it. It was never touched upon, this consolation you had with him, there were rare occasions when the prince had become too drunk to return to his quarters to have gone to yours instead. There were times when your brother wanted to hide and be away from your conniving mother and her insults. Sometimes he’d cry, drink, or rant about her inconsolable expectations of him. Because truly you are the closest to understanding that feeling. The feeling of being unwanted and as though you were not doing enough of your duty to care. Of course, you cared, you did everything for your family. Still, it could never be enough to put a smile on your mother’s face. And more evidently that of your grandsire. 

“I’m sorry,” You let out a dreary breath, rubbing Aegon’s hair. He sniffles, allowing his forehead against your stomach. He closes his eyes and lets out a sad laugh that turns into a cry. He’s lost so much in a matter of days. No one to comfort him, and his wife silently grieving in her own time. His mother forever abandoned her efforts. And his brother disappears with no explanation. Now here you were, the one he found relying on.

“I tried so hard,” He cries out, snot and tears making his speech muffled and disproportionate. “Yet everything has backhanded and slapped me in my face!” You feel a quiver on your lips when he speaks those words. Your heart burns and aches and maybe finally, you can put away your pride and be gentle. You reach behind where his hands are secured by your waist. Sliding them down to allow you to kneel to his level. With his red-shot eyes and puffy cheeks, Aegon looks like he wants to give up everything now and then. He’s never looked so weak and tiresome. 

“I know,” You shaped his face with your palms, sliding your thumbs over his cheeks. They are dried of momentary tears when he looks so desperate to cling onto anything to save him. “And as king, it is a heavy toll. Jaehearys will know you did everything you could to avenge his death.”

“It has gone to madness,” His lilac orbs staring at you with such intensity and possibly love. Torn and twisted, you know this is a wife’s duty to be her husband. Though under Helaena and Aegon’s relationship, they have never loved each other. They were husband and wife, yes but only under law. Helaena held no love but did genuinely care for his well-being. And you had shown more devotion towards his feelings than anyone had done within days. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“You can start by figuring who and who not to trust at court,” You exhale, heart beating like a bass drum when you feel his hands circle yours. “Know who your trusted allies are and destroy Rhaenyra’s support.” 

“Then I need you,” He leans forward, his silver locks tangled in between yours. His gaze was wild and desperate for any kind of refusal you might have. “I need you at court. By my side, you are as essential as any of us there.” It felt as though nothing in the world mattered next only the two of you at this moment. At this important moment, you felt a surge of adrenaline and an urge to comply with his heeds. Your eyes momentarily trail to his lips before discerning back to his eyes. 

“Because I have a dragon,”

“Because you are my blood, you are a strategist and the smartest woman I know in the Seven Kingdoms,” His dried tears make him even more angelic. Perhaps in another lifetime, you two would’ve married instead and dealt with it more easily. Your mother knew it. Your gransdire did too. Despite it all, they all disapproved of you for your lack of devotion to duty. What more can you offer than your service directly to the crown? To the council? It makes you grin in pride for his acknowledgment of you. 

“Of course, my king,” And with those words, he closes the gap between your lips. Sorrowful no way but profound in a new kind of serge to overcome the tragic delay. You were right in front of his eyes all along. You, the second-born princess of Alicent and Viserys' marriage. Quip with a sharp tongue and tactics for how long you’ve studied the art of it. You were no ordinary princess. You were a fighter, a warrior who well enough wanted blooadshed as much as him.

[hairmetal666]

They start kissing on stage as a joke.

The night before the first time, they're at an afterparty, pounding shots, and Eddie is reading aloud a piece that just came out in Rolling Stone. "'One of the most noteworthy parts of Munson and Harrington's unlikely pairing is their chemistry on stage. It's like these two men--one on his way to being the latest metal god, the other an indie rock wunderkind--are two parts of one musical whole. Their singing, their playing, even their bodies twine and flow with assuredness; where one goes, the other follows without question. They share a single brain-cell and that cell is music'."

Steve giggles, pours some more Grey Goose into the glass. "If they say that now, could you imagine what would happen if we, like, kissed on stage or something."

"What the fuck, Harrington?" Eddie splutters, having just thrown a drink back.

"I don't know, other bands do it!"

Eddie snorts. "I'm cutting you off." He reaches for the bottle and the suggestion is forgotten for wrestling over the liquor.

Steve barely remembers it in the morning. Doesn't think about it at all as he gets ready to go out on stage.

They're playing one of the instrumental breakdowns when it happens. They're leaning into each other, Eddie smiling over his shoulder at him, their eyes locked, bodies moving together. "You wanna?" Eddie mouths at him.

Steve nods before the question actually registers and by then Eddie's warm, soft mouth is against his and he just-- completely forgets what he's doing. His hands still on the guitar strings, and he melts a little, going completely boneless when Eddie grips the back of his head, pulls him deeper into the kiss. t's over almost as quickly as it started, Eddie pulling away and swirling to the mic to start the next verse.

The kiss sinks into Steve's bones, and that's before it becomes a regular feature of their performances. After that night, they're never at the same time during the show, all initiated by Eddie, all over before he can catch his breath; each one chaste and surrounded by people but somehow more intimate than any make out.

He and Eddie, they're friends, bandmates, collaborators. They've known each other since they first started out, forging an immediate connection with they stumbled upon each other hiding out in the garden at some industry bigwig's party. And as much as he loved his friend, never once in that time had Steve considered wanting Eddie.

But now, now he falls asleep with the ghost of Eddie on his lips, goes into each show with a thrum of anticipation, catches himself thinking how beautiful his friend is when he's all rumpled and disheveled from a night in the tour bus bunks.

They've always been easy with physical affection, but once the kissing starts they're constantly in each other's space, idly playing with hair, laying across laps, heads on shoulders, twisting together on the tour bus couch. Steve is ruined with every touch, every moment; he can't get enough.

The first time Eddie uses tongue destroys every last piece of Steve's composure. They've added a new song to the setlist, a remixed version of Eddie's hit "Prince Charming". It's hard, heavy, sexy, one of Steve's favorites. And in the middle of it, right in the middle, Eddie shoves him against a low platform, kisses him like he's trying to own him, tongues twining eager and wet and full of sinful promise. It's like that every show after, Eddie kissing him deep and thorough, like he's trying to lick up every drop of Steve.

He is, unquestionably, fucked. Unquestionably falling. Can't properly fathom how he'd gotten himself here, desperate for Eddie's kiss, as performative as it may be.

They're packing up equipment after a show. Eddie's hair is piled in a messy bun and Steve is trying not to blatantly stare at the curve of his neck, the stray curls against his pale skin. Eddie's gesturing at something, says, "Can you grab those cords, swee--Steve?" He hands them over without thought, notices that Eddie's face is shining red. He's called away to deal with packing the guitars, forgets all about it, but at their next show, Eddie doesn't kiss him.

They don't talk about it.

Eddie doesn't try to kiss him again.

A week after Eddie stops the kiss, they have a night off between shows. He needs to get out of his head, goes out with Robin. He gets back fairly early, but all the lights are off in the bus. It makes him panic in a way it shouldn't; they've always done their own things. Still, he rushes on board, flips on the lights, his absurd heart beating too hard.

Eddie is curled up on the couch, face pressed to the pillows and covered with his hands. The panic kicks up a notch.

"Eddie?" He steps closer, slowly reaching out to grip Eddie's shoulder.

He jerks upright, earbuds slipping free, phone sliding down his hip. "Steve?"

His face is wet, tears actively slipping free from his eyes as Steve watches.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" His hands flutter around Eddie's arms and face, searching for bruises or wounds.

"I'm fine, Harrington," he chokes out. "Though you were out with Robin?"

"Yeah, I was, but Chrissy called. You know how useless she gets. But that doesn't--you--you're crying. What's wrong?"

Eddie's smile is a wobbly little thing, refusing to stick on his face. "Oh, you know, the usual. Fell for the wrong guy."

Steve forces down the gut churning hurt at hearing that Eddie's in love with someone, intent on comforting his friend. He tries to slip his arm around Eddie's shoulders, but Eddie shrugs him off. It jostles Eddie's phone again, slipping it toward Steve and activating the screen. He has a split second where he's looking at the cover of his own first album, before Eddie's snatching it out of reach, scrambling up from the couch.

"I'm fine." He swipes his sleeve over his face. "It's nothing."

And Steve is putting it all together, the being in love and listening to Steve's music, the kissing and how it ended.--

"Eddie." He sounds all wrong, choked and garbled.

Eddie doesn't turn around, is stuffing his feet into his boots. "I'm--I gotta go clear my head."

He walks towards the door and Steve just--"I've been obsessed with you since the first kiss," he says. Eddie stops, hand curled against the door. "We've been friends all this time and I didn't--I never realized. And then we kissed and--it's all I've been able to think about."

Eddie turns then, facing him, expression unreadable."Steve, what are you--"

"I love you. I'm in love with you." It comes out fast, all jumbled, but he can't stand Eddie leaving, not now.

"You--?" Eddie blinks, bites his lip. "That's not possible."

Steve smiles, can't help it. "It is, though. Turns out, I can't get enough."

Their eyes lock; neither speaks. Steve's heart pounds so hard it might spring free of his chest. Eddie moves first, crosses the small distance between them to pull Steve into his arms.

It's not a kiss, but Steve buries his face against Eddie's neck, breathing him in, feeling the echo to the pound of his own heart. "How long?" Steve asks.

Eddie's soft laugh vibrates through him. "Since I saw you walking in that garden and thought, 'jesus christ, Prince Charming is real'."

Steve pulls away to stare at Eddie in disbelief. "But that's--your--the song?"

"They're kinda all about you, Stevie. But that one most of all." Eddie whispers. His eyes glisten.

"Fuck, Eddie." He doesn't mean to whine, but he's not in control of his voice anymore. "I'm sorry I didn't--" He shakes his head. "I'm all yours, Ed. Whatever you want."

Eddie's thumb catches against Steve's bottom lips, eyes transfixed on his mouth. "Everything, sweetheart. I want it all."

[starkeyisthelastname]

reader cockwarming stepdad!rafe but he can’t take it and ends up pounding her until she can’t breathe properly😊💗

He had got you by letting you pick a movie of your choice, having now sat through half of it bored out of his mind. He wanted to let you warm up, especially since your ass rested against his already growing cock. You were laid back against his broad chest, pretty eyes enticed into the girly movie. His wife had texted telling him her work trip was going to be another day, making this idea come to his head and all the more reason to be inside his step-daughter’s tight cunt again.

You felt the butterflies hit your tummy as you felt his hands come to pull the tiny shorts you had on aside. You wondered if he was going to do the naughty things you had been thinking about every night for the last week. It wasn’t until you felt him pushing his way inside of you that you knew this was reality. He was huge and you had forgotten how full you felt with him inside you.

“Shit…” Rafe whispered, cerulean eyes rolling back as you cunt wrapped around him. “Stay still and watch your fucking movie.” His voice raspy and he leaned back against the headboard.

You did your best to stay still and be a good girl for him. You poor pussy couldn’t help but clench around his massive lenth as you tried to watch the rest of the movie you had picked.

Rafe swore you had the most perfect cunt he had ever been in. He was trying his best to hold it together and not absolutely destroy you. He wanted to be rough, punishing you for having such a pretty wet cunt that made him want to nut inside of you. The more you squeezed around him, the more he began to lose control.

His jaw tensed as he felt your cunt pulse around him, his first instinct being to grip your hips and start thrusting up. He couldn't take it anymore, and quickly put a hand over your mouth as he wanted to enjoy ruining your princess cunt.

“Such a greedy hole, huh? Keep suffocating my fuckin dick when I told you to watch your fucking movie.” He spat, of course blaming you versus his apparently weak self.

You couldn't speak, voice muffled behind his huge hand. Your baby pink nails dug into the sheets as he sheathed himself inside of you at a brutal pace. The hand that was against your lips quickly moved down towards your neck to squeeze. Your oxygen was quickly cut, making you squeak as he continued the assault on your cunt.

“Shhh…learn to fucking enjoy it slut. Because you are getting fucked like this from now on. You and this… perfect fucking pussy.” Rafe grunted, music to his ears as he heard your breath shallowing and pussy noisy the closer you got.

You struggled to breathe not only from the way his hand was around your throat but from how fast he was moving his hips up into you. The amount of stamina he had was unreal, and that funny feeling in the pit of your belly was growing.

“D-daddy!” Your voice barely getting out from your lack of breath.

“There you go, shut up and take it slut. Just because you make a mess all over my big dick doesn't mean I'm gonna fuckin stop anytime soon. I hope you know that.” Rafe told you as you came down onto him hard, trying to cry out but miserably failing.

[jeanbie]

ALL THE TIME (IF YOU WERE MINE) ★ masterlist.

pairing: jake x reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, human!fem!reader, porn with a lot of plot, establishing feelings, reader's nickname is "Spellman/Spelly", size kink, face sitting, finger fucking, manhandling, begging, riding, dirty talk, squirting, whatever you call this, breeding kink, creampie | wc: 19k

note: i became obsessed with jake + spelly ᨳ ˶ᵔᴗᵔ˶) thank u for the love on fantasize + i hope u all love the development between our fav dummy avatar and our fav scientist!!

★ ⏤ sequel to fantasize

⏤ Now that feelings are known and the lucky chance to be alone in the lab together arises, Jake wants to go even further than he did before.

“Hey, marine, where’s your log from last night?”

Of course, the first thing out of Grace’s mouth when Jake rolls himself into the front workspace is something to do with video logs. Jake does everything he can to stop himself from groaning in her face and presents her a smile, one that she can no doubt see right through when he appears in the dim daylight falling through the windows.

“It’s not there? Must have deleted itself.”

Grace’s eyebrows raise. “Are you trying to tell me that the camera just…deleted the footage? I have everyone else’s logs on here except for yours. Conveniently for you…”

“Can’t even make a log right,” comments Norm — Jake had almost forgotten all about the eldest Spellman and turns his head to see him, and quite frankly, even just looking at Norm this morning feels like a silent victory, the excited feeling of thrilled anticipation bubbling in Jake’s stomach.

“Ask your sister,” Jake says in reply, almost laughing at loud at the contorted face of disgust that appears in replacement of Norm’s sneer, “she saw me last night.”

“Here we go,” Norm sighs.

Luckily for Norm, Grace buts in: “Enough, you skxawngs. Just make a log while it’s all still fresh.” She pauses then, and pulls out one of her beady eyes to stare intently at Jake, “It is still fresh, right, Jake?”

“Fresh as a daisy, doc,” Jake replies, but his eyes have already begun wandering around the lab for the notably absent scientist he enjoys seeing the most in the mornings — the same scientist he fucked stupid last night and hasn’t stopped thinking about since.

Considering your unbelievably obvious feelings for Jake, it shouldn’t be a surprise that he managed to entice you out to the little forest behind the shack, and yet he still can’t believe that it even happened. There’s a phantom tingle in his stomach as he thinks it over — did it even count when he did things in his avatar?

Everybody has noticed your interest in Jake, including Jake himself, and yet a strange doubt gnaws at his mind as his eyes wander across the lab, seeking you out, looking for signs of you on the counter or out the windows. More than anything, he hopes he hasn’t completely severed his chances with you. 

What if you woke up and regretted all of it? What if you woke up and despised him all of a sudden? That probably wouldn’t surprise him, since there’s plenty of anti-Jake sentiment being spread in the lab right now, and he’s never had too much of a good thing before it slips away somehow.

Still, there’s a small crack inside of Jake that remains open with the possibility that maybe everything is fine.

Jake doesn’t know how long he’s been staring out the window for before Grace speaks again, but when he looks over at her, he’s grateful that she’s not looking at him already to catch him in his daydreaming.

“I don’t hear you making that log, marine,” she says carefully, her eyes once again glued to her microscope. It’s a wonder she doesn’t just fall asleep next to the damn thing. 

Jake tries his best to look casual as he rolls to the end of the lab and fiddles with the camera, asking, “Where’s everyone else?”

Grace shuffles and swaps one of the samples under the microscope. “Outside. I sent Little Spellman out to collect a sample from the fyìpmaut tree that we noticed on our first outdoor sweep. I think in the next few days, we might even get a bit of fruit from that sucker.”

“That’s a squid fruit tree, by the way,” adds Norm, and Jake casts him a filthy glare that Norm unfortunately doesn’t see since he’s got his nose buried in some papers.

“I know that,” Jake says in the calmest voice he can.

Does Norm forget that Jake goes through what burns down to a routine of drills with Neytiri on almost everything and anything the woman can think of that can be found on Pandora? From his, quote, “valuable field research”, Jake thinks he’s learned more about Pandora and what you can find in the forest than Norm has in three years.

“I sent Chacón out with her so she can stretch her legs,” Grace continues, having no energy to waste on trying to get Jake and Norm to coexist peacefully. “I don’t think she even goes outside unless it's to fly, so it’ll do her some good.”

Jake looks out the window again. He wishes he could at least see you — maybe that would make the twisting discomfort disappear. He tries very desperately to think about last night again, running his memory over every detail until he knows for sure that he wasn’t overanalysing or even imagining the entire thing.

He likes you. You like him. He fucked you in the forest. He liked it a lot. You sounded like you liked it a lot. You looked sad to see him disappear before going inside. He didn’t imagine any of that, did he?

Grace’s chair creaks menacingly and it makes Jake switch on the little camera quickly and start listing off whatever he did with Neytiri the day before. It would be hilarious if he were to accidentally mention the fact that he stretched out Norm’s sister and filled her up with cum, but Jake has the decency to know that the timing isn’t right.

Plus, he kind of wants Norm to figure it out for himself. 

As he recites his day, all he can think about is how he wants Norm to find out — when he’s out on a pathetic patrol around the shack, maybe he’ll get a whiff near the forest; god, Jake hopes you’re walking with a goddamn limp just to rub salt in the wound. There are too many ways, too many possibilities, and Jake has to work overtime to fight the grin that wants to appear on his face. 

The story he’s sharing about tracking yerik through their shit isn’t funny at all, and he’d hate to have to try and explain why he’s smirking while he’s telling it. 

Jake can’t think of anything else to say to drag on the log that Grace apparently wants so badly, so he calls it a day and switches off the camera. He then steals another glance out the window and is absolutely delighted when he can actually see you this time.

You’re sprinting with Trudy back towards the lab while frantically looking up above your head. Jake can’t even see the sky from where he’s sitting, and suddenly feels a pang of pity for you for having to sit in here until Grace essentially gives you the green light to go outside. 

No wonder the stars had been so fascinating last night — you can’t see anything through these frosted glass panes that the science department were forced to call windows. 

Jake feels his heart pounding in his chest when the sound of the doorway pressurising fills the room, followed by Trudy’s relieved sigh as she whips off her exo-pack and takes a deep breath of air. But he’s not looking at her as desperately as he is at you, and Jake doesn’t know if it’s the afterglow of fucking you last night or if it’s two months' worth of feelings rushing back towards him like a tidal wave, but you look so beautiful that it leaves him sitting there dumbly, taking it all in.

“Fucking rain,” Trudy sighs, immediately b-lining for the fridge. Since they first got here, the fridge has expanded in size after a few trips back to Hells Gate for emergency supplies or board meetings Grace couldn’t get herself out of, and now the fridge can store beers that Trudy is all too pleased about cracking open.

“Good timing,” notes Grace as she turns in her chair. “You get it?”

“Yep, here,” comes your voice, and Jake watches quietly as you hand Grace her priceless sample. “The ground near that tree is really wet, though. If you want more samples, I won’t be going until the rain stops.”

“That tree won't bear fruit until the end of the week, maybe,” Grace replies, waving her hand dismissively. “…This is a good sample, Spellman, great eye.”

“Thanks,” you laugh in reply. 

Your back is still facing Jake, and each second you waste looking away from him makes Jake feel more impatient to see your eyes on him again. He watches very observantly as you stretch your arms up with a small groan, the bottom of your tank rising as you reach for the ceiling and iron out the aches in your bones. 

Grace looks at you for a minute and her brows pinch. You clearly don’t notice as you turn in Norm’s general direction and make a comment about how terrible his notes were last night, but Grace doesn’t stop eye-balling you until she throws a short glance at Jake and narrows her eyes. 

He says nothing, dares not even move until Grace raises her eyebrows as if it will clear the calculating expression off her face. She sets the sample down on the counter and leans her weight on her elbow, reaching into her pocket for a cigarette.

“Hey, you’ve got a crazy ass rash on your chest, Spellman,” Grace says suddenly, and you whip around to look at her so quickly that Jake has to refrain from sighing in pity. “What happened?”

You peer down at your chest and Jake knows you’ve remembered and by now noticed the mark on your chest that is shaped like Jake’s mouth. For a second, there’s a tense silence, and Jake feels his stomach turning, half out of anxiousness and half thrill — could this be? Could this be the moment everyone finds out? 

He gives Norm a single look, but he’s not even interested in what’s being said, for he’s rearranging the notes he’s been reading and turns to his binder of other random papers.

“One of the samples Jake found for me kinda made me go all itchy,” you lie, very flawlessly too, and finally, you look at Jake.

It’s as if a volt of electricity has been sent through him — Jake has no idea what has suddenly made him feel this way, but something tells him it might be last night; might be the fact that you’re the most beautiful person in the room, on Pandora, in the entire universe. His mouth goes dry. 

“Fngapsutxwll?” Grace asks, and when you look back with a gentle and clueless nod, she frowns and sneers at Jake, “I told you to avoid bringing her carnivorous plants, Jake!”

“I didn’t know it was gonna make her break out in hives,” Jake replies. The lie is so natural that Grace scoffs loudly in reply. 

He hasn’t even brought you any fngapsutxwlls, and yet here he is, lying about it just for the sake of protecting this secret that more than anything, Jake wants your brother to know about.

“Where is it?” asks Grace. “I need to document this.”

“I told you that taking samples from Jake was a bad idea,” Norm pipes up, giving you a sympathetic, tight-lipped smile. 

“Oh, quit bouncin’ my dick, Spellman,” Jake groans, looking away from you with reluctance when you peer over at him.

“You’re a danger to this department. And a danger to my sister.”

“Shut up, Norm,” you huff, marching towards Jake and wrapping your arms around his head in a way that somehow smushes the side of it against your chest. Hey, Jake’s not complaining — he knows this is your own slight rebellion against your brother, but he will relish in this feeling and enjoy the displeasure that writes its way onto Norm’s face. 

“Your sister’s quite capable of making her own decisions around here,” Grace says, her voice tired suddenly. “And the very last thing I wanna do is listen to you fucking assholes fighting. It’s actually boring me. If you’re going to keep at it, I’ll send you back to the Gate, Norm, don’t tempt me. If it weren’t for the fact that this jarhead is days away from becoming one of the People, then believe me, he’d be back there faster than you can say Eywa. So knock it the fuck off.”

Message received: Norm all but deforms into a ball and rolls away to the bunks, with nothing to say for himself besides a disgruntled sigh as he disappears. Jake studies the sound of his footsteps as they stomp down the length of the metal corridor, but then he tunes his senses back to the feeling of your heartbeat lightly thudding against his temple, your hands cradling his head like a baby. 

He savours the feeling for a long minute before pushing the boat out and snaking his hand up the back of your leg, pulling you closer against him.

For a second, Grace glances over at Jake once more and then gives you a warning look. “And don’t encourage them, Spelly, you’re better than that.”

“Sorry,” you laugh, and Jake melts into the soft curve of your breasts like a cold animal craving warmth. Grace spares another fleeting moment looking at you with her menacing beady eye, the same she likes to give Jake whenever he does something slightly wrong, and then she turns back to face her microscope, giving Jake the opening to press his fingernails into your bare legs and look up at you.

The expression on your face when you peer down at him makes a smile bloom across his mouth before he can even stop it. He tilts his head back appreciatively and takes it all in; the look of slight shyness on your face and the soft yet slightly cheeky grin where your mouth is. 

Little Spellman, his woman — decorated with the imprint of his mouth on your tit, a kind of ethereal glow on your skin that he knows he helped put there. 

For a moment, despite all of the thoughts whirling around in Jake’s head, he can’t think of anything to say to you. All he can think of saying is something absurdly stupid about last night, but he’s acutely aware of Grace on the other side of the room, and Trudy floating in and out of the hallway as if she can’t quite decide on where to go.

Slowly, and then all at once, you unravel yourself from Jake and push away to lean your lower back against the lab desk. 

His eyes wander all over your face before you ask, “Sleep well, Sully?”

He sighs from the back of his throat, like he’s thinking, and then relaxes slightly.

“Best night’s sleep in a while,” he replies, folding his arms, watching the way your eyes glimpse down at the very slight curve of his biceps — they’re nothing on his avatar’s physique, but he finds with amazement that you somehow still find something to look at with fondness. 

He has no idea why you like him so much, or why you’re still looking at him like that despite having been tangled with his avatar just last night. On one hand, he knows it’s flattering that somebody likes everything he doesn’t about himself, from his boring personality to his dumbness to his disability. On the other hand, Jake knows that you could do ten thousand times better than with him — even if he factors in the Na’vi body that he suddenly feels more comfortable in than his real one.

“I didn’t even hear you get back in,” Trudy says, deciding to stick in this part of the lab rather than enter the dark lair of sulk that Norm has channeled in the bunks. She drags one of the low stools over with an obnoxious screech, and Jake has to tell himself it’s fine. 

He likes Trudy, likes that she’s a good friend and takes his side on things, but right now, he just wants her to go away; he wants everyone to go away so that he can steal five extra seconds with you before he has to roll back to the link unit and find Neytiri. 

“Well, I thought I’d be considerate and roll by everyone’s bunk extra quietly,” Jake replies. “You guys were out like lights.”

“I feel like all I do is sleep around here,” Trudy mutters.

“You’re welcome to join us on our study later,” Grace offers.

But Trudy cringes. “Can’t say I’ll be much help in a lab, doc.”

“No, we’re collecting wet samples later,” Grace explains. “The rain tank will refill our recycled water, but I need to patch up the reserve tank with Norm while we’re out. Little Spellman here will take cuttings from the forest out back, and we could use a lookout just in case any unwanted visitors join us.”

“I didn’t know about this,” you say confusedly. “When did we decide this?”

“Just now, I decided,” replies Grace. “While Jake’s out doing his shit, we need to do ours. Hope you packed your raincoat, Spelly.”

Paying no attention at all to the string of groans that come from your direction, Jake looks out the window again and gives himself a few seconds to think. 

If he manages to land a clean kill today with Neytiri, then he’ll be choosing his own ikran tomorrow. It is the single most important part of becoming an Omatikaya warrior, according to what he’s deduced from Neytiri’s repeated stress of the whole rite, and the pressing necessity of Jake perfecting his kills has been made his top priority by two women in his life; the woman showing him the ropes and the scientist beating his ass if he misses a video log.

But Jake has carved out a part of his mind and left it open in your name. More than anything else, he wants to stay here and watch you frantically running around in the rain cutting little leaves, talking shit about cells, looking awkwardly at where he fucked you last night in the very forest Grace is making you turn into a new study. 

On top of all that, Jake wants to be there when Norm takes his first whiff of the seeds planted for Jake’s revenge — oh, god, how he wants to see the sinking look of realisation on Norm’s face when he catches Jake’s scent all over his sister…

“Why are you still here, marine?” cuts Grace’s annoyed voice as he glances to the side and sees that the scientist is glaring at him like he’s pa’li shit on her shoes. “Don’t you have animals to hunt?”

Jake sighs through his nose and glances back at you. He wants to do what you asked of him, to tell you he likes you so much it’s making him go insane, how last night was incredible, how he wished you had rolled over and seen him before he went to sleep. But he doesn’t. Now’s not the time, and Jake all of a sudden thinks that he’s behaving like a freak and he moves to roll himself towards the link unit at the far of the link chamber.

As he busies himself by flicking all the necessary switches and deliberately taking longer than normal to get everything ready, he keeps his ears trained on the conversation happening behind him.

“We’ll have to work overtime on the new samples,” Grace says as she slides yet another sample under the microscope. “Parker’s calling us in for a routine meeting and inspection of our data tomorrow. Jake’s doing his Omatikaya training, but Parker will be expecting results to justify the rest of us coming all the way out here.”

“What, all of us are going?” Norm has decided to reappear from the bunks, much to Jake’s dismay.

Grace hums — she probably nods too, knowing her, but Jake makes it a point not to look as though not to blow his cover of listening in. “If I have to go, you guys will suffer with me.”

Jake feels the cavern in his chest hollow out even more. 

“So…Jake’s just staying here?” Norm asks, confused. “…Is that safe?”

“You worried about me, Norm?” Jake calls.

Norm probably frowns — yup: Jake turns and sees that sinister scowl on his face. “Somehow, you’d find a way, just like always. But we’re all the way up in the Hallelujah Mountains.”

“Funnily enough, I knew that, Norm,” says Grace.

“If something happens, Jake will need someone,” Norm continues, and for once, Jake actually agrees. If something were to happen with the link unit or the pressurising system, Jake wouldn’t know the first thing about fixing any of it — that is if he even got out of the unit without falling or dying. 

But now that Norm has mentioned it, Jake’s body fills with dread. Is Norm suggesting that he stay behind with Jake? Then his thoughts spiral: did Norm already know? Was he planning a whole thing to confront Jake or get him back? Norm didn’t strike Jake as the type to outright murder somebody, but hey, he wouldn’t put it past him to try somehow. 

Grace contemplates the idea for a moment and takes her time glancing over at Jake and then back at Norm. “Good point. You stay here, then.”

“Can I stay instead?” you interrupt, and Jake looks at you so quickly he fears he might get whiplash as a result.

Grace eyeballs you curiously, as does Norm. 

“Why?” Norm questions in a rather curt tone.

“No offence, but I haven’t met Parker since our orientation in the Avatar Program when we were students, and pretty much all of our conclusive research is made up of your notes, anyway. I can stay here and manage the lab, continue my own research, and make sure Jake gets in and out of the unit alright once he’s done.” You glance at Grace for good measure, “I’m reliable. But when it comes to talking to the guys in charge, you might be better off with Norm.”

If Grace thinks what you’ve said is suspicious, then she doesn’t show it. After all, you’re right, and everybody in the lab knows it. Jake, for one, knows how reliable you can be around the lab. 

He’s not biased, but he knows that you’re a far more trustworthy scientist than Norm is when it comes to checking the systems, keeping the lab clean and tidy, doing all of your chores and completing your logs, and in general, keeping the entire shack functioning as normal while everybody else is busy. 

He also knows how shy you can get, particularly with your work. Not even a few hours ago, you had tried to downplay your interest in the Na’vi to justify Norm’s graduation into the Avatar Driver program, and he can’t think of a single time you’ve told somebody that their research isn’t as important as your own. In fact, Jake isn’t even one hundred percent sure what you’re interested in when you’re not aiding everybody else’s research.

More importantly than any of that, Jake knows that you staying behind in the shack while everybody else flies out for an overnight at Hell’s Gate is particularly advantageous. It spells the perfect setting for the next stage of his so-called ‘revenge’, although he’s beginning to believe that soon enough, Jake will be fucking you for more than the thrill of it pissing Norm off.

Jake blinks and finds you looking at him, as if trying to coax a word or two of support from his mouth. He throws you a simple smile and angles his head towards Grace.

“It’s a no-brainer who I’d rather be spending a night with,” he says. Then he immediately cringes on the inside — that came out horribly wrong, no matter how truthful it may have actually been.

But still, Grace doesn’t think twice about the otherwise nasty implications of his words. Instead, she shrugs and turns to the janky coffee machine that is tucked nearby to a selection of mason jars by the mini microwave.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re saying you willingly want to spend a whole night in this remote shack with Jake?” Norm asks, looking at you as if you’ve grown a third head. “Alone?”

“What would be so bad about it?” you reply casually. “He’ll hardly be here, anyway. Besides, if he pisses me off, I’ll just kick him out of his chair and leave him somewhere.”

Jake laughs, “Rude? I thought you liked my wheelchair.”

“Whatever,” Grace announces, just before you get the chance to reply with something witty to make Jake laugh in return. “We’ll be back as soon as the day breaks. Chacón says she needs VFR to get through the mountains, so we’ll play it safe. As long as you can hold out until then, Spelly, then go ahead.”

The sound of the link unit whirring to life makes Jake jump slightly, and he reluctantly glances away to punch in the data on the screen while the rest of the lab busy themselves in their usual routine. 

Jake can’t believe it. He could not have predicted a more perfect result.

Tomorrow, there’ll be nobody else besides you and him.

It is quite literally perfect news.

As Jake hears Norm begin his on-brand rant over how you should be cautious around an idiot like himself, he allows himself the simple pleasure of grinning wickedly to himself, feigning innocence as he very carefully looks at you again out the corner of his eye. 

After a while of fighting off your brother, you eventually look back at Jake and smile, so radiantly and mischievously that he immediately knows that whatever he’s thinking, you’re thinking too.

He heaves himself up and lets Grace think she’s God incarnated by helping him nestle down in the unit, all while he savours the last few minutes he has letting his mind be swarmed with thoughts of tomorrow — thoughts of him with you wrapped in his arms, nobody around to watch, nothing in the world to keep him from claiming you as his own all over again.

Following Grace’s orders isn’t often a challenge for you — in fact, being given instructions on what to do has become a reliable part of your daily schedule, and it just so happened that you did a lot of what Grace asked without any fuss at all. But right now, you’re having a hard time understanding just why taking samples of a few wet leaves is in any way necessary.

Since earlier that morning, the rain has transformed into a torrential downpour; the raincoat covering your entire body is drenched through, the hood tightened so intensely around your face that it shadows the outline of your exo-pack comically. Still, you practically glare down at the pamtseowll taking lashes from the rain, its catty appearance looking pathetically sad as you snip a segment off and secure it in the sample bag, huffing as you go along.

Everybody in the laboratory has their own interests, their own research to conduct. Grace has been working on a dense study of forest fauna since you arrived on Pandora, and now Norm has decided to work on a branch of research concerning the fauna and its changes when in contact with rainfall.

So far, he’s accumulated a valuable cache of research, and yet, here you are, collecting his samples while he stands on his blue tip-toes and helps Grace fix the faulty water reserve tank.

You can’t even think of the last time anybody offered to help you out with your own research. In a way, the only helpful person has been Jake, and that’s only by a stretch. The variety of cuttings or entire uprooted plants that he brings you after his hours and hours spent on the ground and in the village have been the subjects of your research, but dying plants flattened and prodded in a lab only communicate so much at a time.

Being out here, in the open field, would be the most beneficial if it weren’t for Grace’s restrictive ‘field hours’. 

With a frown, you pop open a small sample tube and carefully angle it underneath another pamtseowll, catching a generous amount of rainwater and firmly sealing it closed. You’ve snipped and sliced a dozen different plants, shadowed by Trudy and her chorus of equally unamused sighs, before Grace and Norm successfully patch up the tank and join you.

“Felinafolia ferrugenia,” says Grace as she stands over your shoulder. She looks annoyingly refreshed considering the onslaught of rain, dressed in a large raincoat of her own but with her legs on display, her shorts the only clothing she appreciates when in her avatar. “Cat ear. Another great sample, Spellman.”

You grunt in reply. Based on the way Grace busies herself with one of the starfishing pxiwll plants instead of replying, you predict she hasn’t heard your complaints, and so you stomach another sigh and crouch over another plant.

“How many cuttings do you want, Norm?” you ask, teeth chattering in the cold.

“As many as we can before all the bags fill up,” Grace replies instead. She jerks her head towards the deeper forest and suggests moving inwards. And honestly, you’d want to, if it weren’t for the fact that she’s currently prowling towards the same lay of forest that Jake took you to last night, and the nerves root you to the spot.

It’s the very last place you’d rather visit with your boss, your brother, and a friendly yet sometimes intimidating aviator pilot. Your eyes close in on the familiar jag of the rock, feeling your heartbeat tremble as Grace approaches it without a care in the world. 

Trudy passes by you with a confused curve of her eyebrows, already stepping in Grace’s oversized footprints and making her way into the concealed cover of trees and branches, and it is only when Norm drops to a crouch beside you that you finally tear your eyes from the rock and look at him.

Norm’s eyebrows are low, a ripple deepening across his forehead as he stares at you, like one would a tricky puzzle in the newspaper. His eyes flicker up and down the raincoat analytically, his lip curling in distaste before he inhales, nostrils flaring, and bites out, “Why do you smell like that?”

Your heart is hammering so loudly that it makes your chest ache, and around the gigantic lump in your throat, you gape at Norm and manage to ask, “Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know, all weird,” he continues, looking perplexed and disturbed at the same time. “Like. Musky. Like… No. I don’t know, but it’s weird. I don’t even know what you smell like, but it’s not normal.”

Without having to put too much thought into it, you’re confident that you know exactly what and who you smell like. A certain oversized ex-marine who Norm just so happens to hate all of a sudden. 

It shocks you how scared Norm’s assessment makes you feel. Of course, you knew that the Na’vi had an incredibly heightened sense of smell, and had that fact confirmed yesterday with Jake sniffing the damp spot between your legs, but you somehow didn’t expect Norm to be able to smell any difference on you. 

This is exactly what Jake wanted to happen; you gauge Norm’s facial expressions for a long time, trying to figure out if he’s made any connections yet, but he continues to sniff at you in disgust, permanently confused by what the hell it could even be.

“Are you sure it’s not just the raincoat?” you ask lamely, taking a pointed look down at the waxy coat enveloping you. “It was just in one of the supply boxes, it probably smells really weird since it’s been in storage for a while.”

Norm inches closer and takes a massive inhale.

“I guess it could be the coat,” Norm decides slowly, watching you as you hover for a moment before stepping off to follow Grace and Trudy. All of a sudden, being over there is better than being here, being interrogated by Norm.

Still, he doesn’t get the hint and he says as he follows you, “But it’s just strange. It’s so strong.”

“If you keep going on about it, it’s gonna hurt my feelings,” you tell him, hoping that he might shut up and spare you the anxiety of him figuring it out. “You trying to say I stink?”

“Yeah,” Norm replies dumbly. “Because you do. You usually smell fine, I know what body wash you use because I steal it all the time.”

“Right,” you drawl, peering at him from the corner of your eye as you both near the others. Trudy tosses her head over her shoulder and startles at the sight of Norm, as if she forgot he was even there and slowly creeping up behind her. 

For a moment, you wish you had the ability to forget about Norm, but even when he crouches next to Grace and assists in marvelling over a rather average-looking moss blanket, you can’t help but anxiously stare at both of them, as if waiting for something more to be said.

It’s not as if you regret any of last night. On the contrary, you think it might have altered your body chemistry and made you more desperate. While your first tumble with Jake hadn’t been in the way you expected, or even in the form of Jake you were most used to, there’s nothing you can say to make you convince yourself that it was a mistake. Since when did mistakes feel that good?

Your embarrassingly long crush on Jake has been dragged out until now, and quite frankly, the last thing you want to do is suppress the elation you feel about finally taking the next step with him; to finally hold his attention, to be someone he actually feels interested in.

To be “his woman”, to hear Jake say that you were one of the only things ever keeping him from throwing his life into being Na’vi felt like a dream last night, and even now, in his absence, all you can think about is how badly you want him back here, how badly you want him.

But not at the cost of total humiliation. If Norm were to turn around right now and accuse you of the truth, you genuinely believe you might die from embarrassment. It’s one thing sleeping with Jake Sully, but it’s another thing entirely to be found out for sleeping with Jake’s avatar. 

Is it even safe? 

Instead of helping Grace and Norm in their collection of samples, you fall deeper and deeper into your spiral of thoughts. You’re so deeply immersed in them that several minutes go by and Grace and Norm have moved a few feet closer to the rock, studying the moss that creeps up the jagged edges, moss you felt on your back last night. And yet, you still don’t startle out of your thoughts — at least not until a dark shadow falls over you, and Trudy jumps around with wide eyes before groaning with annoyance.

“How the hell did you get here so quietly?” Trudy snaps, and the distress in her voice makes you turn your head over your shoulder. When you see a strangely slender blue waist in front of your eyes, you jump too and look up to find Jake’s face hidden in a slight shadow.

When he looks away from Trudy and finds your eyes behind the glare on the exo-pack, his mouth widens into a giant smirk, and despite the shivering cold of the stormy weather, you feel your body flush with a sudden warmth.

God, sleeping on the fact of what you did with Jake did not make the yearning go away. 

Jake shrugs. “At least I know my training’s paying off.”

At that, Grace acknowledges Jake standing behind you and turns to face him with her hands on her thighs. “Oh. Marine. Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be hunting?”

“I’m done for the day,” he announces, his grin widening, if it were even possible. You take the moment to soak up the sight of him in his Omatikaya attire — the rain sliding across his wide torso, looking a shade darker in the dim light, the very faint glimmer of his freckles creating a stitch work of light across his skin. When Grace asks why, he tells her, “I’m ready.”

Grace gasps — she sounds happy, and after your eyes linger for a fleeting second on the wet cloth hanging across Jake’s crotch, you turn to face her. 

“Really?” she asks.

Jake nods. “My iknimaya is tomorrow morning.”

Grace laughs disbelievingly and rises to stand, her hands falling to her hips while Norm remains all but glued to the floor, his eyes glazed with envy as he glances at Jake.

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Jake!” Grace laughs again. “Really. Well done.”

“Nice work, man!” Trudy adds, nodding her head at Jake. “You a tough warrior now, huh?”

You hear Jake snickering behind you, the noise making you shudder. Thankfully, it’s still raining, so you hope it looks like you’re cold rather than on edge about the avatar behind you. 

“You walked all the way here to tell us that?” asks Grace, sounding genuinely curious as she turns back to Norm and quite literally yanks up a whole plant. “Why?”

“Nah. Neytiri wanted to show me the basic route for tomorrow morning,” Jake explains. You can hear him shuffling around behind you, but you’ve become rooted to the spot facing away from him. “Tsu’tey pretty much hates me. He’ll be gagging for the chance to abandon me before we even get to the rookery.”

Grace makes a noise of agreement, which launches her into a serious discussion of how Jake needs to respect Tsu’tey more in order to receive more respect in return. From behind you, Jake groans playfully, although lets Grace continue her presentation on why Tsu’tey is a good leader (not that Jake ever said he wasn’t), and you intensely watch Norm lean his arm on the wedge of rock you recognise from last night until you become aware of the fact that the rain has slowed — or at least above you, it has.

Craning your head up, you notice Jake’s hands hovering over your head, as if acting as some kind of personal umbrella. He’s still looking at Grace when you peer at his face, but instinctively, like he felt you looking, his eyes flicker downwards to yours and he smiles again, his eyes halving into curves. 

Yep. The yearning has definitely persisted.

“Don’t stay too long, Jake, you’ll have to take yourself back down to the village before the storm picks up,” Grace says after her rant has stretched for at least five minutes on the value of Tsu’tey’s comradeship.

“Yeah. Though Neytiri says it’s almost passed,” Jake replies, adjusting his footing behind you, his hands unmoving. 

“Is Neytiri here?” you decide to ask suddenly. Hey, you can’t help but feel curious about the woman who has been helping Jake get to where he currently is.

You somehow miss the confused scrunch of Jake’s eyebrows, as though he finds the question completely irrelevant.

“She’s…around,” he says. “On her ikran somewhere. Practically left me all by myself.”

“Well, I imagine she has better things to do,” says Grace, sparing you the humiliation of coming up with a reason for even bringing her up in the first place, other than to just be nosey. You picture Neytiri stalking the lot of you from a perch with her ikran, trying to figure out if the Sky People keeping Jake’s human body alive are worthy to be left alone in the beautiful Ayram alusìng.

The mention of Neytiri seems to set something off inside Grace, who was apparently looking for any excuse to talk about the village again. She turns around on her haunches and begins another lengthy discussion on the Omatikaya and their ikran, all while Norm scowls into his sample pouches and Trudy steps away from you all to glare at the unassuming grey sky.

You are uncomfortably aware of Jake’s figure still looming over you, his hands sheltering you from the spitting rain and his tail occasionally curling around his leg to jab into your waist playfully.

There’s nothing to fear with Jake, nothing to fear of his potential interest in other people, and you banish the thoughts before they take up permanent residence. You’re better than that. And besides, if Jake didn’t really want you, he wouldn’t be acting like a Na’vi umbrella just for your convenience, wouldn’t be having so much trouble stopping himself from grinning down at you every once in a while.

A gust of cool air pushes its way through the forest, and you shudder dramatically, hoping it might guilt Grace out of the trees and back into the labs. Instead, she snorts, tells you to suck it up, and snaps at Norm for manhandling a sample, all before you feel a warmth surge behind you and two large, blue arms securing around your body.

Before you can even process it, you’re between Jake’s thighs, the large and solid expanse of his torso flat against your back and his cheek against the wet waxy material of your hood. You peer around the side of your coat to find his face, almost jumping when his big golden eyes are staring back at you.

“Don’t catch a cold, Spelly,” Jake says, his taut muscles tightening around you. He smirks at the fleeting look you throw in the group’s direction and purses his lips in an effort not to laugh at how funny everything is. How Norm is leaning against the rock he fucked you on and has no idea. How beautifully hilarious it is to see.

“Famous last words,” you reply, teeth chattering.

“Then go inside, grumpy,” Grace huffs, waving her arm in a flamboyant gesture, “Sully, walk Spellman back before you head to the village, will you?”

Jake shrugs, your body moving with him as he does so. It feels strange to be wrapped up in his arms so openly, with no rush or thrill of being caught through a window or a sniff. Norm looks purple with rage as he glares daggers into Jake’s face, though Jake’s barely looking at Norm, not when his much more favourable sibling is so close and pretty in his face like this.

He very gracefully moves to a stand, his hands moving from your body with reluctance before he reaches out, fingers widening and curling as he grabs for your own. Shyly, you reach to take it, hearing Norm mutter something not-so-graceful under his breath and stepping in Jake’s shadow to follow as he makes his way with you back towards the lab.

The muddy ground squelches under Jake’s feet, but with the way he walks so carelessly, it’s as though he has already become acclimatised to the Na’vi ways. And, you have to admit, he sports the village clothing with class and style.

Jake’s beads clink together as he turns his head in an incline to see you. 

“Tell me it was everything I hoped for,” he says suddenly, and as you spot the cocky little smirk on his mouth, you laugh and shake your head, already knowing what he’s asking about.

“Norm said I smelled weird. I tried my best not to be offended.”

Jake sniggers, “That man has no idea.” Looking pleased, Jake swings your intertwined hands and adds quickly, “And you just smell like me. I like it.”

“You would like it.”

“In the village, couples smell like each other all the time,” he says, a bit too casually, and you sideways glance at him. “Like, to lay claim.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about laying claims when the only other man I see on a daily basis is literally my brother,” you remind him.

“Yeah. But, still. The idea,” Jake shrugs. “Isn’t it nice?”

The both of you round the corner of the lab and disappear from sight of the scientists back in the forest, now totally concealed behind the front of the lab and the drab look of the short grass and mud. On the bright side, the rain is slowing considerably, which is probably the only reason why you’re not cringing when you have to look up at Jake just to see his face.

“You know Neytiri has zero interest in me, right?”

You refrain from groaning. “I know, Jake.”

“Okay, ‘cause maybe it wasn’t obvious, so I’m just saying—”

“Let’s not… We’re not gonna do that, okay?” you say, cringing at the fact you brought it up in the first place. “I get it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Jake,” you laugh, pausing. What can you even say? 

He shifts slightly. “I told you that scientists are more my thing, and you know, what I meant by that was—”

“I know,” you groan, waving your hands desperately, “and I believe you. Don’t make this weird, Jake.”

Mercifully, he surrenders, holding up his hands to announce his resignation from the point. For a few more seconds, he stares at you, assesses every flinch or twitch of features on your face, and seems relieved when he finds nothing that indicates you’re upset with him.

Better than that, he completely sets aside the conversation; he smiles genuinely, as close to innocent as Jake can get, and then his eyes avert to the ground and he runs his tongue across the inside of his cheek.

Before the silence stretching between you can fester into anything else, you announce your leave with a heavy sigh and twist towards the doors.

“Get out of here, big guy,” you tell him, already punching in one of the codes to access the pressure chamber. “I’ll try and stay up to see you tonight.”

“Yeah right,” he teases, still in the same position you left him in. “My sleepy girl. Couldn’t manage it last night, I was gone like fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen precious minutes of sleep,” you say, watching Jake’s grin widen as the doors slide open and in you go. There’s no need for a goodbye; you’ll see him again later.

As soon as you’re inside of the lab again, you waste zero time in climbing out of the horribly drab coat and leaving it to dry in a cupboard that Grace hangs wet clothes in from time to time. The wax won’t run properly through the laundry machines, and so you leave it there, thankful that no rain seeped through to your clothes underneath, and shudder at the temperature change once back inside the strange comfort of the lab.

Dutifully, you place a bag of samples next to one of the microscopes, and you’re about to fish out a towel to head straight for the showers when you catch a glimpse of something blue outside the window — Jake, bending over to peer into the lab, tapping his finger on the glass to get your attention.

You look at him questioningly. Then, you watch in disbelief and amusement as Jake grins, puts his fisted hands down by his abdomen and then lifts them up to his shoulders. It takes a moment of confusion before it clicks — this motherfucker is asking you to lift up your shirt.

Jake nods, no doubt laughing to himself outside the lab as you gape at him. Perhaps you misunderstood him, but the look of eager anticipation and smugness on Jake’s face tells you otherwise. 

You look at the window to the right of you, paranoid that any of the three people you live with happen to be approaching the lab. The fear of someone like your brother or your boss seeing you with your tits out for the enjoyment of a massive flirt like Jake Sully blurs into thrill, and just to see him grin like he did last night, you laugh to yourself and fist the bottom of your shirt, rolling it up and over your breasts until they fall out on display.

You look at Jake expectantly. He peers closer, his fangs displayed as he smiles so wide you think his face might split into two, and after a long, drawn-out moment of ogling them, Jake finds your eyes and nods appreciatively, raising one thumb for good measure.

Your shirt is back down over your breasts by the time Jake is standing upright and stalking towards the edge of the cliffs, a speed in his step. Waiting until he’s completely out of view, you watch him disappear past the drop and spin back to stare at nothing in particular, until a ripple of laughter bubbles out of you uncontrollably, your face unbelievably hot.

The possibility of the shower running cold all of a sudden sounds kind of appealing.

True to his word, Jake makes it back to the labs just after you’ve eaten, and is subject to Grace’s maternal fussing as she thrusts a food pouch into his lap and watches him until the contents have been devoured. Jake would need all of his energy for tomorrow — the first crucial steps were to be well-fed and well-rested.

“What’ll happen once you’re one of the People?” you ask Jake, comfortably nestled on one of the deck chairs that Grace found in storage that has been set up in the corner of the lab designated for eating and talking.

From spending a few months with Grace, everybody has become neutralised to her obsessive habit of separating her needs in her living space — somewhere to eat and talk, somewhere to work; somewhere to link up, somewhere to bathe, somewhere to sleep.

Jake shrugs with a smile. “I guess that’ll be it. I’ll have my ikran, they’ll throw me a little party, I’ll have suitors dancing at my feet…”

You smirk, eyebrows raised playfully. “Mighty bachelor.”

“But that’s not important, is it, Jake?” Grace interrupts pointedly.

“No,” he replies in genuine agreement. “The first course of action will, of course, be making Grace the boss. There’ll be a school in the village by next week.”

“Har, har,” replies Grace sarcastically. She takes a swig of her beer and smiles. “I just meant that relations are important. If we can do anything to establish friendly alliances with the People, it saves a whole lot of bloodshed and pain.”

“I hear you,” Jake assures her. “I am excited for my party, though.”

“Gotta pass first,” Norm says, balancing a pencil on his upper lip. “Easier said than done.”

“Hey, I just thought of my first plan of action. How about you do everything I’ve just done Norm? I’d love to see you try,” Jake says. 

Now that he’s already bedded you and is fairly certain of the longing twist in his stomach being there as a physical reminder of his feelings for you, Jake’s not really interested in letting Norm treat him like a loser anymore.

Norm just throws a middle finger in Jake’s direction. Before Norm’s usual dark and depressing energy pollutes the good vibes in the room, you quickly jump back into the conversation. 

“I wanna go to your party,” you say.

“Grace can come,” Jake replies sympathetically, his lips vanishing into a downturned frown. “If you have time and find a link unit in the Gate, then you’re welcome, Neytiri said so.”

“What about me? While you two are out getting drunk, I’ll be here, what, on my own?”

“Sorry, Spelly,” Jake frowns. “Hey, how about we paint you blue and try and sneak you in? Might pass as a Na’vi child if you’re lucky.”

“Charming…”

You tune out of Grace’s promises to make it to Jake’s party — if one even happens in the first place — and focus your attention on Jake.

You’ve only been in close proximity with Jake’s avatar for less than two days, but already, you’re making out the shape of his Na’vi features in his real ones. When he laughs, his head tilts up in the same way it did last night; his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek as he tries to reign the laughter in, the crease near his eyes as he purses his lips, the angle of his head when he finds your eyes locked on him once he does a scan of the people in the lab.

All it took was one night with his avatar to completely amplify the feelings you have for him. And all it took was one night in his avatar to breathe his own feelings into reality.

By the time Jake has made his way to the bathroom after pulling the short straw and being the last one in there, you’re already cocooned in bed, staring up at the fuzzy darkness intensified by Trudy’s top bunk. 

With Trudy cleaning her pistols and Grace and Norm making sure all of their notes are in order for the early flight out to Hell’s Gate tomorrow, you focus your attention on the sounds of Jake in the small bathroom — the sounds of him brushing his teeth and cursing when he knocks something off a shelf, the little squeak of his wheels as he does his best to move around. 

Your heart is hammering twice its usual pace when the light vanishes and his wheels grow louder as they amble towards the bunks.

Cracking open one eye, you just about make him out in the faint light cast by your overhead lamp. He rolls into view, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, although his features even out and he relaxes once he confirms that your eyes are, in fact, still open.

“Got me worried for a sec,” he says quietly. Everyone is still up, and he can’t risk giving them yet another reason to cockblock him.

“Just in time. I was dozing off,” you reply, nose wrinkling as you laugh at the roll of his eyes. 

Jake adjusts himself, leaning down on his elbows as they mould into the thin mattress and cushion by your side. You shuffle, shifting your head to look at him as his eyes flicker across your face. 

He supports his face with his hand pressed into his cheek, the other hand lifting to ghost across your face, lightly trailing over your hairline. There is a slight vacancy in his eyes, like his mind is full of thoughts that are taking his attention elsewhere, and for a moment, you wonder what to even say until his eyes snap back down to yours and his hand on his cheek moves.

His finger and thumb shift to squish your cheeks together, bringing your mouth into a pucker as he leans his head down and plants a kiss on your lips.

Jake breaks away after a moment, barely creating a distance between you before he kisses you again, and again. His hand releases your cheeks and with the other, he gently strokes the top of your head, all so softly it’s as though making any sudden movements might cause you to jump away. 

There’s a faint taste of toothpaste on your mouth when Jake pulls away, your eyes still closed for a second longer than his as he maps your expression, not even trying to hide his pleased smile when they do open to the sight of his face still hanging over yours.

Jake steals another quick kiss on your chin, heaving himself back up with a forced and slightly dramatic groan.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, then,” he tells you quietly, his voice suddenly hoarse as though kissing you has winded him. His chest is falling a bit more unevenly than before — has kissing you left Jake with the same fluttery feeling as it has with you?

You nod, your teeth tugging on your bottom lip to prevent the blinding smile from shining through. You’ve gotta leave him with a little bit of yearning — he can’t have it too easy.

“Really hope you don’t die in the morning,” you reply.

He laughs unexpectedly. “You know what? Me too.”

The lab is silent.

After so many weeks of being surrounded by the noise of other people, it is jarring to be alone. The metal lab groans in the wind, the frosty glass rattling as it gusts past the container you now call home. Outside, the front of the cliffside the shack is perched upon is glowing vibrantly, pulsing with energy, but unlike a few days ago, you have no desire to head outside, all too content in the toasty warmth you’ve curated in the lab.

You try not to feel too alone — in the link chamber, Jake is in deep like a tick, probably partying with the clan. With no distress calls from Grace and no disturbances from Jake’s most likely agonising session in the unit, you assume that all went well with Jake’s iknimaya. He must be buzzing, light and dizzy with whatever native alcohol he’s been rewarded with.

Meanwhile, here you are, waiting for one of your watercolour paintings to dry. A quiet night in the lab constitutes a well-earned night off, although you could consider your relaxing drawings of yesterday’s sample research if you really needed to. 

With your knee up by your chest, you swirl the lab chair in a lazy circle whilst you wait, listening to the silence grow tinny as it stretches on. It occurs to you that you actually don’t enjoy being alone the way you used to. You’ve grown so accustomed to noise that without it, the world feels hopelessly lonely. You find with shock and horror that you even miss Norm complaining about everything, followed by some fancy Grace quip or Trudy laugh. 

You don’t know how much longer Jake may be in there for. A couple more minutes? Hours? The longer you stare in the direction of the link chamber, the more anxious you feel.

So, maybe being all alone in the Hallelujah Mountains wasn’t what you dreamed it was going to be, except for the opportunity it gave you to colour a few pictures of stems and flower buds.

Sighing, you dab your little finger into one of the dry petal paintings and swirl the paintbrush in the water again, deciding to start on colouring in some of the bioluminescence outside into a spare square of space. In no way, shape or form are you an artist, but the painting calms you, and welcomingly takes your mind off the fact that you’ve been alone in this lab pretty much since you woke up this morning. 

The paintbrush flicks over where you’re trying to imagine a tawtsngal from memory to spruce up the otherwise dull-looking painting of the view in front of you, and you’re just about to dip the paintbrush into the water to dilute the colour when you hear a rumble outside the shack.

Never a good sign.

You still, listening: the shack rattles twice, the table shaking, and for a moment you consider the possibility of there being a landslide nearby. With wide eyes, you jump up off your chair and rush to the window, peering out into the vibrant dark to check for any fallen rocks, but you see nothing besides grass and plants, and an even darker outline of jagged wings landing where Trudy normally lands her ship.

The ikran manifests into shape, a map of twinkling white freckles settling down in the short grass and screeching out in the night. You try to manage your breathing as you take in its sheer size; it raises up and screeches again, digging the speared claws under its spread of wing into the soft dirt beneath it and it bows down. 

For a moment, it does not register to you that someone is climbing down off their back until you see their starry shape jogging towards the window — your eyes are still glued to the proud ikran showing off in the night, settling down in one of the low yet fluffed out trees near the fyìpmaut tree Grace has become infatuated with.

When your eyes finally snap over to the approaching Na’vi, you let out an embarrassingly loud sigh of relief when you realise it’s Jake, followed by a strangled noise of shock when you realise, yet again, that it’s Jake. Avatar Jake. Big, blue and beautiful Jake, who is currently punching in a string of numbers into the door and letting himself inside the lab.

Your hands are trembling like crazy when the air pressurises around him, and you almost don’t even know what to do when the inside door unlocks and swings open, and in he comes. Jake glances around the lab in a crouch, looking somewhat uncomfortable as if he forgot just how large he was, and he grins when he finds you.

“Hey, my hì’i syulang,” he calls, his hands reaching in a fumble under the emergency exo-packs to fetch one of the AAS-RO2s secured in a rack underneath. They were rarely used unless Grace or Norm needed to for some reason bring their avatars inside for something and were too lazy to wake up and do it in their human bodies, and for some reason, seeing Jake fiddle with one and actually get it to work despite having never touched one before feels absurd to you.

You hum with interest once he’s successfully geared up, smiling when he looks at you for approval.

“Hey, yourself. You got good with Na’vi.”

“Practise makes perfect,” he shrugs, though looks too cocky for his own good now that you’ve complimented him on it.

“I’m not tiny, by the way. You’re just huge.”

“Yep,” Jake grins, stepping towards you with two equally huge strides. His eyes catch sight of the drawings on top of the table and he drops to a comfortable crouch by your side, his brows high as he asks, “Aw, you colouring?”

You scoff quietly. “It’s research. Botanical, legitimate research.”

His hands skim through the pages with interest and he hums. “Looks fun.” When he looks up, it’s outside of the window, and you follow his gaze back to the resting ikran outside. “Wanna draw him? He’s real cute.”

“I see you survived your iknimaya in one piece, mighty warrior,” you reply, feeling the muscles of his arms with a teasing smile, and Jake looks at you from the side and his gaze softens. “How was your party, then?”

“Good,” he nods thoughtfully, gaze averting as he looks one more time at his ikran before dedicating his attention solely on you. After all, you are what he came here for in the first place, if not to show off to then just to see. His eyes find yours again and he brushes one of his hands up over your forehead again, thumbing your hairline, gaze so soft and warm it could melt butter. 

“Grace came,” he continues, “the kids got her dancing by the fire. I tried some rank liquor, had to do my own ceremonial dance with about ten different people.” Jake’s smile widens affectionately, “Neytiri showed me the Tree of Voices. Utraya Mokri, the People’s direct link to Eywa.” You can’t help but smile with him as he tells you all of this. His happiness is infectious. “Eywa is…incredible. Grace needs to try it, she’d lose her mind.”

You laugh at that. “That could be your first course of action, Tsyeyk Suli.”

Jake’s entire face reshapes with adoration, so much so that he physically cannot stop himself as he pulls your head forward and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. The action takes you by surprise — you’ve barely begun processing the kiss Jake left you with last night, let alone accepted the possibility of another one being given by the body that lay you over a rock once.

He pulls away, and when he does, you notice the lurching gesture in his chest, as though he's struggling to breathe, and you pointedly bring up the respirator around his neck and laugh.

“Damn. I took all your breath away. Chug some dioxide.”

Jake rolls his eyes but takes a sip of the CO2, eventually falling back into place. Now reminded of the tedious ritual he’s made himself a slave to by coming in here in his new favourite form, Jake quickly thinks back to whatever it was he was talking about and continues.

“Neytiri also told me that I have now earned my place in the village,” Jake begins again, his voice a little bit dreamy. More than anything, you wish you could have been there to be a part of the vision playing in Jake’s mind, to visualise his stories of the village and the forest and his place in all of it. 

“I may live in the village, so to speak, I can carve my own bow from the wood of Hometree.” When his eyes search your face hesitantly, he adds very slowly, “and I may also take a woman.”

“Oh,” you say, quickly scanning his own expression for anything out of the ordinary. When his eyes round in shape and his ears flatten against his head, the corners of his mouth twitching, you raise your eyebrows and ask, “and how do you feel about that?”

“Well, I told Neytiri that I had already chosen someone,” Jake tells you.

“Did you?”

He nods with a hum, trying not to look so amused, though failing horribly at it. “And so Neytiri told me that I should go and seek out my woman to tell her that I have made my decision. She was a little eager to get rid of me, actually.”

“And…that’s why you’re here?” you ask, almost regretting it when Jake opts for staring at you for a second too long, in a silence too concerning. Then, he smirks, brows high, eyes narrowed, like you asking is the silliest thing in the entire world. 

“Obviously, Spellman.” Jake laughs as you do, bemused, “Jesus. For such an intelligent woman, you’re so stupid sometimes.”

“Takes stupid to know stupid,” you reply.

“Exactly,” he croons, face so close to you that he’s able to push his face forward to kiss your lips without much effort at all.

It’s not as though you forgot what being around Jake’s avatar felt like; it’s only been a few days since you last encountered him, and yet it feels like the first, your stomach rolling over itself like a tsunami as Jake’s lips find your own in perfect harmony.

Admittedly, you had expected your next tumble with Jake to be in his human body, but now that he’s here, now that he’s already flown himself out here to find you, you can’t think of any reasons to turn him away.

Last time, any possibility of kissing Jake had been next to impossible thanks to the exo-pack, but now, with nothing in the way, Jake relishes in the feeling of your lips against his own, his large hand cradling the side of your face. 

Of course, he’s kissed you before, yesterday at a strangle angle to accommodate his unfortunate wheelchair. Now, there’s nothing to hinder his progress, nothing to prevent his plans — it’s just you and him, alone in the lab, exactly how he wanted it to be.

It’s as though the gravity in the room is being sucked out when Jake pulls away; you feel like you’re floating merrily off the chair, leaning forward as though to find him in the space he’s created, and Jake laughs from his throat and sweeps his gaze down your body. 

No longer are you wearing your favoured shorts or tank top. To his delight, you’re in a long t-shirt that hangs around your knees, presumably only panties underneath, and his mouth twitches with intrigue.

“Cute outfit,” Jake says appreciatively, using his finger to lift up the bottom of the shirt and peering at your thighs, seeking out the bite he left you with the night before. When he finds the very faint outline, he laughs boyishly and glances back at you, “even cuter tattoo, honey.”

You laugh, and then Jake runs his finger across the nearly gone indent and hitches your shirt higher up over his wrist, the sight of your baby blue panties peeking into view as his grin widens. 

“Why are you grinning so hard?”

Jake shrugs; now both of his hands are at your hips, shirt pulled up at the front, his golden gaze trained on your crotch. 

“Just happy,” he says simply. Though he appears perfectly content zoning out on the sloping curve of your crotch, Jake looks up and says, “Did you know I was coming?”

“Well, I expected the real Jake to be here by now,” you confess, thinking about Jake lying in the link unit controlling his avatar with his hands on your hips.

Jake’s brows furrow, his smile flattening to an amused line. “I’m real.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Forget about him.”

“I like him.”

“And that makes me really happy, believe me, but this is real for me. This right here, you and me,” Jake says, his voice a little lighter than it was before, which is the only real way you can tell that he’s not joking.

This is serious for Jake. It’s not just part of a ploy to piss off Norm. Jake has become undone with his feelings, in a way that is so unbecoming of him that it’s actually embarrassing; now that he’s practically on his knees in front of you telling you it’s real, telling you that he’s pretty much told Neytiri and by extension the whole village that you’re his and he is yours, you know without a shadow of doubt in your heart that he is being sincere.

“Believe me, honey. It brings me no greater joy than knowing that you’ve been interested in me since we first met—”

“Well. If we’re being technical, then it was just before you got chased by the than—”

Jake simply frowns. “Hey. I’m not fucking around here, Spellman. I’m trying to tell you how I feel.”

“…Sorry. Go on.”

“…If I knew in my heart that I could give you what I want you to have from my wheelchair, I so would, but everything is easier like this. I can move. I can do whatever you want. I can be whatever you want. And you took all of me so well. Didn’t even struggle. You’re a perfect woman.”

“I love that you think that, but, you know, you're already everything I want from that wheelchair, Jake,” you tell him, and his ears pin back in surprise and his entire expression falls; he doesn’t look upset, however. Rather, he looks in awe. “You don’t have to walk or fuck me on a rock to give me everything you think I want. I just want you. Everything else is a huge, incredibly pleasant bonus.” 

You reach out for his face and rest your hand over his cheek, feeling his skin on your own. He feels warm to the touch. 

“You know how I feel,” you continue quietly, “and I like every second with you. I just wanted you to know for sure that even though you met my needs in your avatar, you never needed to.” Jake has barely moved an inch since you started talking, but when you add, “Even though I really like you like this,” Jake’s face twitches, like he’s trying his best to hold himself together. “A lot, actually.”

The splitting smile that stretches on Jake’s face fills your chest with a giddy type of glee.

Then, Jake leans forward, his forehead tilted against yours. Being so close to his face is unreal — you don’t know what to look at first: the lines of tanhì over his skin, the smooth look of it, the slight pink of his snout, the tug on the inside of his lip...

“You’re mine, Spellman,” Jake murmurs.

“Yeah,” you agree in a whisper, matching his own look of delight and feeling a fluttering rush through your chest when Jake secures his hands in a cradle around your face, bringing your lips back together with a sudden fierceness that, this time, is not met with surprise.

Unlike before, unlike the short kiss that had felt stolen between you, you’re surprised by Jake’s eagerness. His mouth presses against yours with a gentle firmness, as though not to hurt you but at the same time, enough to convey just how badly he’s wanted this. His mouth is warm against yours, the glossy sheen of saliva over his bottom lip slippery and inviting as his kisses become more open-mouthed.

Jake kisses you for so long you wonder how he can even breathe — even for you, it feels breathless. When he pulls away, you pinpoint the slight spasm in his chest, the tight veins in his neck as he fights his impulses. With a small laugh, you push the mask around his neck up to his lips and force him to capture his breath, occupying your lips elsewhere in the meantime.

Trailing your mouth across his cheek and jaw, it’s as though Jake is gulping down as much CO2 as he can manage to keep stored inside of him to go a little longer. Eventually, his chest rises and falls evenly while you gently smooch the expanse of skin under his jaw, catching the soft scent of whatever powders and paints he may have been decorated with earlier in the night. 

The mask falls back down past his collar and he shifts; Jake’s hand pulls at your face, his thumb on one cheek and fingers on the other as he guides your mouth back to his, wasting no time in getting back to whatever he was doing before his lungs so rudely interrupted him. 

If he had to die losing breath while kissing you, then it would be a suitable way for him to go.

“Okay,” he breathes, pulling away for a brief second before planting a wet kiss back on the pucker of your lips. You can taste the honey from the alcohol he’s been drinking all night in your mouth. “Up and out.”

With that, Jake lifts you up by your waist and ungraciously tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Then, with his back hunched slightly, he moves with familiarity through the metal corridors of the lab, navigating his way to the bunks. 

Even like this, you feel so high off the ground, and you squeal with surprise and fist at nothing behind his back. He’d never let you fall, not that the landing would damage you in any physical way except for your pride, but still, you stare at the moving metal beneath his feet in a blur, half excited and half full of nerves.

The floor plan opens up to the bunk chamber, the familiar worn woven rug that Grace had been given from the villagers and had put on the floor appearing in view. You know confidently that there will be as little room back here as there was in the workspace at the front; the bunks are bolted to the wall but barely big enough for human bodies, let alone avatars, but Jake already has a solution.

He sets you down, his hands already working to pull your shirt up and over the top of your head. Not that he has to work very hard at all — you’re already helping him undress you, pulling the shirt up over your head, marvelling at the wide-eyed look of excitement on Jake’s face.

“Missed these,” he says, carelessly tossing your shirt to the bunks off at the side. He wastes no time in moving closer to you, his mouth attaching itself to the curve of your breasts, his tail flicking happily at your noisy approval. 

With Jake mouthing around your nipple, the taunting graze of his teeth making you shudder, you let your body float into an astral plane of goodness and close your eyes, your head lulling to the side.

His eyes flicker up, greedily memorising every lift and twitch on your face until he catches sight of your hands sliding down your sides from his arms, fingers inching towards your little blue panties. He grins, tongue flat against your nipple, and after pressing a sloppy kiss to the side of where he’s been sucking, Jake breaks away and harmlessly slaps his hands over yours, holding them in place as you hook your fingers under the panty fabric.

“It’s like you’re doing this to me on purpose,” he groans, lips pressing kisses all across and down your body as his mouth makes its way to the smooth skin of your tummy. Jake rubs his thumbs in circles on your lower stomach, eyes finding yours. 

“Doing what?”

“Being so fucking sexy,” mutters Jake, his tongue licking like a lion against your naval. The feeling makes you squirm and laugh slightly, your hands flying up from the clasp of his hands to the sides of his head. 

There had been the expectation that perhaps human Jake would roll himself towards you once he got back, excited and turned on by your uncharacteristic lack of clothing. Instead, it had been avatar Jake who found you first, but it’s not as though your efforts have exactly gone to waste. If anything, they are met with the highest amount of appreciation.

Jake tugs the top of your panties with his teeth, moving them off your skin and down until he can see the sloping curve of your pubis, until he can smell the lust between your folds. Stopping him from stripping you bare is the last thing you want, but still, you look down at him playfully.

“Do you really need to take all my clothes off, Sully?” you ask, feeling his teeth graze on your skin as he unwillingly releases your panties from his mouth.

“Yes,” he replies, like it was obvious. Why would he want you to stand there in your panties all night when there were more fun things to do?

“Well, what about you?” Your hands slowly trail down from his face to his broad shoulders, fingers ghosting across the darker lines etched into his skin. Jake shudders slightly, his ears pricked tall, and they twitch in amusement when you point out the same thing he did when he bent you down over the rock.

“One of us is halfway there, and it’s not you.”

Between his legs, same as always, hangs his tewng, perfectly and teasingly in place of the large growth hiding beneath, and your eyes glance at them pointedly. Your gaze lingers there until Jake takes the hint, his smile turning lop-sided as he sniggers and reluctantly pulls away from you.

“As you wish,” he croons, his hands swiftly shifting to the flimsy little string that he so courageously entrusts to hold his tewng together. Full of anticipation, you roll back on the heels of your feet as the knot undoes behind his back, and the strings cascade down as the fabric loosens and pools to the floor in a puddle.

Jake's cheeks are aching with how much he’s smiling. Any cool composure he wanted to pretend he had is betrayed by the smile that has taken up permanent residence on his face, the enthusiastic swish of his tail beating against his back and the floor behind him. 

With your eyes still trained on the stiff arousal between Jake’s legs, you bite your bottom lip in an effort to restrain yourself and smooth your hands over the weaved sheath fastened over his chest.

“Miss me?” Jake asks, eyes pinned to yours as you peel back the sheath and gently set his blade and armour to the side. Now, the only things on Jake’s body are your hands and the bands around his arms, tightly outlining both his muscles and pudges of blue skin.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

“I know you did,” he continues anyway, pressing a swift kiss to your stomach and hooking his fingers back through your panties. He appreciates the blue more than he’d care to admit — you probably didn’t do it on purpose, picking blue when it's the very colour of his existence, but it’s a nice touch despite that. “Can smell you.” 

Jake twists the fabric around his finger like a ringlet and drags the panties down your legs, and once they’re bunched down by your ankles, he takes a deep inhale and secures his gaze between your legs, his chest rising and falling.

His hands instantly shift to your thighs, holding them as he gently, yet forcefully, widens your feet apart. Your pussy parts with the movement, the wet smell filling Jake’s nose like a drug. Behind him, his tail thumps against one of the stack of black storage boxes, and he groans with pleasure.

“Fucking perfect,” he says, a thumb moving to swipe up the partition of your pussy. The familiar feeling of it swiping makes you tense up, hands tightening around Jake’s shoulders. “My perfect girl.” 

With another kiss planted against your naval, Jake pulls you closer to him, mumbling under his breath and against your skin a string of words you can barely hear.

He saves himself the unflattering carpet burn from shimmying across Grace’s rug and picks himself up, one hand on the floor and his other arm and hand keeping you flush against him while he adjusts himself on the ground. 

Once he’s lying flat on the floor on his back, he grins up at you and guides you over him, gaze flashing to the approaching pussy he wants nothing more than to shove his face into.

“Come’ere,” he says quietly, tapping a finger against his chin while trying to bring you closer with his other hand. It would be very easy for Jake to just pull you forward — you’re not a weak human being, but you still have nothing on his Na’vi strength, and you know this. 

You slowly step towards him, your feet on either side of his body, a warm flush engulfing you as you stare down in amazement at the eagerness of Jake’s expression, the giddy movements of his body. He can barely stay still.

“You…want me to sit on your face?”

“Clearly.”

Though you’re already straddling him, hands trembling, you ask, “What if you suffocate and die?”

At that, Jake laughs, sliding his hands up the length of your legs and pushing down slightly, until your knees buckle and you’re all but hovering over his lips, feeling the chuckles of laughter brush against your bare skin.

“It’s the only way I’d wanna go,” he tells you. “A true warrior’s death.”

You scoff, anxiously positioning above him. “How would I explain that to Grace?”

“With pride, hopefully,” and then he helps bring you down until you're comfortably positioned over his mouth, his tongue flat against you, your own mouth suddenly falling into a circular shape of pleasure.

“Oh!” you gasp. Although Jake has been between your legs before, it hadn’t felt like this. The refined, little, rough ridges of Jake’s tongue brush against you; his tongue feels like a cats in texture, prone and wet as you slowly grind across it, Jake’s hands back around your body though he barely even moves you. 

Almost as soon as you take a seat on his tongue, Jake groans again, the satisfied sound grumbling from his throat and against your cunt. In all of his attempts to relive the memory of being between your legs, Jake forgot how good you tasted.

Around your waist, his hands tighten before adjusting themselves to help move you against his mouth, his tongue curling up once you’re coated in your own juice and his saliva. 

There is a slight ringing in your ears that you’re thankful for, but the sound of Jake against your pussy is no doubt erotic, making Jake’s body twitch and his cock harden uncomfortably up against his stomach.

You’re cautious with putting all of your weight on Jake’s head, still lifting up instinctively off his mouth as he runs his tongue across your pussy, prodding the top against your hole and gorging himself on your taste.

The feeling of his mouth so firm against you is intense compared to the other night, where Jake had all but pinned you down with his arm and had his way. He seems to grow fed up with your caution and his hands tighten around you, bringing you down to rest your weight entirely on his face. He groans, arms and hands locked in place, his ears smushed by your knees.

“Fuck,” he grumbles, his baritone voice vibrating against you. You moan at that, your hands coming to fist at the pretty beads hanging down by his face. If the tug hurts, he doesn’t show it; Jake only moves you harder against his mouth, his eyes tightly closed in pleasure until they all of a sudden burst open, his golden irises boring up into your face as you stare back.

You watch his eyes flickering from side to side, memorising every pull and tug against your features as you grind yourself on his mouth. His tongue is hot against you, his hands curling around your thighs possessively to hold you in place. 

Now that the feeling of him plush against your pussy is more familiar, you chase his tongue, moving against him until he’s prodding exactly where you need him the most. 

Jake’s mouth shifts, his tongue flicking against your clit while his hand slides from your thigh to the gap between your legs. One of his fingers stirs up the slicky wetness residing between your folds before slowly pushing up, slipping past the clenching resistance of your hole. Without meaning to, you smack your hips down on Jake’s face, feeling his finger sink up to the knuckle inside of you as a low grunt sounds from his throat. 

You’re somewhat relieved that Jake is in his avatar and can withstand the full weight of your body throttling him, but he almost seems to relish in the feeling, a second finger wiggling its way past your folds and up your snatch with the other. The thick widening of his fingers makes you gasp, toes curling, and one of your hands releases his hair and grips at the stack of boxes behind Jake’s head.

“Mmf—fuck, Jake,” you rasp, voice broken and high and whiney. A shaky exhale catches in your throat as his fingers fuck inside of you, and your hips seem to have a mind of their own as they rise and fall over his hand like his fingers were his cock — you’re bouncing slowly on them while he smirks to himself, tongue flicking over your swollen clit, mouth and chin smothered in saliva and juice.

“You likin’ that, honey?” he asks, planting a sloppy kiss on your thighs as he curls his fingers inside of you. “Feel good?”

“Uh huh,” you whine. At this point, you cannot bring yourself to look at him and all of his smugness. You feel his smile widen against your thigh as he nips at the skin, licking a stripe before turning his mouth back to your pussy. 

“God… Jake, oh my—” You don’t finish that sentence, don’t even get the chance to.

It is embarrassing how close to an orgasm you feel. Jake’s barely begun, barely spent any time at all between your thighs and yet you can feel your body seizing, a small ball of warmth expanding inside of you. Jake’s eyes are still glued to you and the arched view of your body over his face, and you can practically feel his gaze burning into you, willing you to look back at him.

“You gonna cum up there, baby girl?” mumbles Jake, his voice muffled by your pussy. If it weren’t for the vibrations his voice sends up your pussy making you aware of his question, you might have missed it over the sound of your moaning and whimpering.

His fingers prod at the spongey insides of your pussy, one prod in particular making your hips buck furiously across his mouth.

Jake makes a noise of happy surprise, and like the smug asshole he is, he repeats the action, fucking his finger into the spot that makes you wriggle on top of him. The unravelling warmth inside of you is spreading; you can barely feel your toes, your thighs shaking around him.

“Jesus, Spelly,” he chuckles, his erection so hard and uncomfortable by his belly button that he grumbles to himself. That needs to be attended to immediately, if you weren’t so stubborn as to drag out the orgasm you so obviously want to have. 

Jake moves his fingers faster inside of you, the other hand that’s around your thigh snaking to your hips to sink you down harder against him. You feel his knuckles at your entrance, his tongue pausing lazily at your clit.

“I—” you gasp, voice catching with surprise. Then, to his amazement, you frantically look down at him with a wide-eyed look of desperation. “Can I—?”

“Yep,” he grunts, greedily holding you firmly against his mouth as your hips rut like an animal. After a humiliatingly small amount of time, you feel your entire body tense with a blistering heat, and when you cum onto Jake’s tongue, it is the sweetest relief.

The burst of sweet white fluid that drips into Jake’s mouth is taken with desperation. Jake’s tongue coaxes it all out of you, his voiced approval rumbling into your pussy as he drinks it up. Meanwhile, your head is positively spinning, your vision white and starry and limbs numbed. You can barely catch your breath, and you have no idea how Jake is still alive down there, the mask around his neck virtually forgotten. 

When Jake has finally milked all that he can from your cunt, he gently pushes you up and off his mouth, your whole lower body trembling like a rabid dog as he shifts you down onto his chest. Your cunt is fluttering with the absence of his tongue and fingers, the heartbeat between your legs pulsing intensely as you stare down at Jake’s face.

You’ve never seen a man more content with a mouthful of your cum before. A sheen of white coats his tongue as he laughs breathlessly, his pupils wide. Then, as though he’s only just remembered that he needs to breathe, Jake fumbles for his mask and pulls it up over his face, gulping down the CO2 whilst simultaneously trying to compose himself. 

“My god,” he splutters, his chest rumbling beneath you as he laughs again. You feel sticky all over. “I love this pussy, Spellman.”

The compliment tears a laugh from your throat. “Gee, thanks.”

Laughter fills the space between you for a moment, but when you look at Jake he’s looking up at the ceiling, his mouth parted and his breaths heavy, the mask still in his hand by his chin. Now that he’s gone quiet in an effort to catch his breath, you come to the abrupt realisation that you’re in the lab, in the bunk chamber, sitting naked on Jake’s chest after cumming in his mouth. 

It feels hilarious all of a sudden, though you don’t voice the amused vision in your mind. Jake seems content doing whatever he’s doing, a dazed look on his face, and for a moment, you sit there until your thighs clench and the sticky cum between your thighs begins to dry, and then you slowly heave yourself up off him.

Lifting his head up off the floor, Jake startles and looks at you in confusion. “What’re you doing?”

“Getting up,” you wince as you move, but Jake’s frown deepens. He lets the mask fall by the side of his neck, his hands speedily rushing to your waist to lock you in place. 

“What? No, no, no, no, we’re not done yet,” Jake blurts, his brows high and eyes wide. 

“More?” you ask, surprised.

“Obviously,” he splutters, bemused. “Don’t be so selfish, I’ve been missing you like crazy out there.” 

You fall down the length of his body as Jake sits up, your pussy brushing past the hard tip of his cock. You gnaw at your lip bashfully — okay, maybe you had somehow forgotten about that. 

His cock sits between your bodies, the thick and tense figure of it flat against your stomach as Jake leans his face towards yours with a disgraced look of unhappiness.

“You thought you were gonna cum and then just get off?”

“At least let me catch my breath,” you laugh helplessly.

“You’ll live,” he tuts. “Goddamn. Definitely Norm’s sister, you’re cold.”

Hearing the childish whine in his voice makes you laugh out loud, though his look of unhappiness softens when you smile at him, stroking the side of his face.

“Aw, come on, big guy, you don't mean that,” you try, pushing yourself up against the tight wedge between your bodies. He flinches slightly, the crease between his brows lifting with intrigue. Try all he wants, but he soon gives up on looking displeased and grins back at you. 

“You don’t even have to do anything,” Jake suggests thoughtfully, his face tilted as he tries to entice you. 

In all honesty, you have no protests against fucking Jake. In fact, the thought of his cock being buried in your stomach again is nothing short of a need for you. He’s not the only one who’s been thinking about it all this time — it’s not a competition, but you’ve been daydreaming about the cock between his legs a lot longer than he’s been thinking about you.

“All you’d need to do is sit on it, really.” You tune back into Jake’s voice. You don’t know how much you missed, but the message is abundantly clear.

You smooth your hands down his neck, fiddling with the beaded choker. “I don’t think it can fit in today.”

Jake barks out a laugh. “Please. It fit fine before, princess.”

“Yeah, before you destroyed my vagina permanently. I’ll be too tight!”

That only makes Jake look more pleading. “That’s a good thing!”

“Jake, I—”

“Fine, then just the tip,” he tries, surging forward and pressing a desperate kiss to your lips. You taste the tangy sweetness of your cunt that Jake loves so much on his lips; seeing him so desperate for you to sit on his cock would be funny if it weren’t so sexy.

You bite your lip in thought as he peppers a string of kisses across your face, as if trying to persuade you.

“You only have to take the tip, that’s all. You’re dripping, you’ll take it no problem, but you don’t even have to work or do anything. I’ll do everything.”

“You’re begging,” you state flatly.

“I know,” he drawls in a whine that makes you roll your eyes. “But you’re my woman and I need this pussy like a fucking flower needs water.”

“According to Norm’s research,” you start, reaching for the tip of his cock with a hidden smile, “rainwater and Pandora plants are—”

“Fuck,” Jake laughs into your mouth, his teeth bared in a grin as he kisses you between his words, “off. You’re so annoying.” Another kiss, though his heart soars when your body rises slightly off his thighs, “Always yappin'.” His tail thrums excitedly behind him as you position yourself over his cock, brows knitted together. “Always going on and on about something.”

“You want me to sit on it or not?” you ask bluntly, but your half hearted attempt at sternness is seen through immediately.

“Hell yeah, mama,” he quips, hands already busy on your hips as he tries to sink you down on his cock. 

You stifle a laugh at his eagerness. Who would have guessed that Jake would be begging you to let him fuck you? Two days ago, it would have been hard to imagine.

“Shut up then,” you mutter, but he graciously says very little besides his own personal vocabulary of vulgar words when the tip of his cock pushes into you. 

It goes in so easily that you know Jake is trying his absolute hardest to remain true to his word. Your pussy lets him in with virtually no refusal, swallowing the tip of his cock so flawlessly that he physically tenses, his hands tightening around you as he lifts you up and down on the tip, being ever so careful as to not accidentally sink you all the way down to the base.

Even just the tip of his dick elicits such a primal response from your throat, your eyes blown open. Jake’s barely given you breathing room since your last orgasm, and the overstimulating feeling of his cockhead loyally spearing inside of you is mind-blowing. 

He grunts desperately against your mouth, eyes closed as he tries to reign in his deepest impulses. You press a kiss to his lips; you know how hard it is for him to hold himself back. It is as though your body is remembering who he is, how his cock felt deep inside of you, and when you next feel Jake’s hands lifting you up off the tip and sinking you back down, his eyes immediately blow open when he feels you clench around him like a fist.

“I—shit,” he blurts, momentarily letting go as you sink back down on his cock, the tip of it pushing deeper inside of you as more of his cock pistons inside. He looks apologetic for a moment, because he didn’t mean for you to take more than the tip when that was all he had promised, but after hearing the strangled and high-pitched moan that escapes your lips, he rides his hope for a moment and curls his arms around your body, moulding his mouth against yours.

“Goddamn,” Jake whispers, catching every gasp and breath you take and give. “That’s right, beautiful, you can do it.”

Whimpering, your trembling hands come to hold his waist while he lounges back, his back leaning trustingly against the stack of crates under the window, his hands remaining firm around your body. Jake watches in anticipation as you drag yourself up off his cock, leaving behind a shining trail of juice down the deep blue of his length. 

While you’re up there, Jake takes a quick gulp of CO2 — the sound of him taking a deep breath as he contents himself with watching you makes your heartbeat quicken, although you’re much more focused on sliding your pussy across his tip, the roundness of it slipping up your slit while a litany of moans produce from your mouth.

And then, by happy surprise, Jake realises he doesn’t have to fight it anymore when you go to slowly sink back down on him and slip, half of his dick disappearing up your cunt with almost no resistance whatsoever, and the breathless gasp that fills his ears is nothing short of sinful.

“Fuck yeah,” he moans, sitting up restlessly with his lips on your mouth again, as his hands complete his desire of sinking his cock deeper up your pussy. You whimper into him, the dull ache in your stomach intensifying when you feel his dick spearing up into your cunt, his hips rutting underneath you. 

He did his best, but he can’t hold back anymore. The sight of you swallowing up his cock is the very picture of perfection. 

It was one thing seeing you with your legs spread on that rock. It’s another thing entirely to have you around his dick like a flesh-light.

“You said just the tip,” you whimper.

“You slipped, I didn’t make you take more of it.”

“I—” You groan as his hand grips around your waist like you’re just a doll. “God, you’re so big.”

“Yeah,” he sniggers, lips still against yours like he’s glued there. “But look how well you take me.”

Your attempts to make him feel bad are pathetically wasted; you’re drenched, your wetness like a lube to Jake as he pistons his hips upwards. The squelch between you is embarrassingly loud, although to Jake it is the most heavenly sound in the world. 

He grunts into your mouth, softly whispering encouraging yes’ into every word you attempt to speak but fail at saying.

“A perfect fit,” Jake mumbles, his tongue flicking past your lips with a gasping grunt, “’s'like I was made for you.”

There’s nothing you can say to that, nothing coherent at least. In your best effort to please Jake, you suck in a deep breath and lift, only to bottom out and sink to the base of his cock. It feels like Jake’s buried near your lungs; he’s so deep, much deeper than he felt at the rock. 

Jake shifts back against the boxes stacked behind him. Then, he gracefully lifts his hips, shoving more of himself up there until he can see the dent of his dick in your tummy. He groans appreciatively, eyes darting back to your face after marvelling at the size of him buried inside of you.

“You’re so good,” he mutters, his breath kind of shaky as he takes in the image of you, looking all spent on his cock. He picks up on the struggling shake of your legs and feels your cunt tighten around him. “Lemme fuck you nice, mama.”

The speed at which you go limp on his cock tells him you have no protests. Jake secures his wide hands around your waist and tightens, focusing all of his energy into his arms as he lifts you up his cock and slams you back down. Both of you moan at the same time, and the clear image of you fucked out and exhausted in his lap makes his dick twitch inside of you.

A heat simmers between your legs — Jake has reduced you to a hole to fuck and you can’t even be bothered to move anymore. You can trust that your body will make room for him, and you can trust that Jake will be careful as he has his way with you. With that in mind, you relax like putty in his hands, shapeless as he fucks into you.

For a while, Jake says nothing of significance. It is as though he is buffering or on a loop, entirely focused on jerking you on his dick, his pupils blown black and wide as he zones out on the sweat lining your chest, the soft rise and fall of your tits as you bounce on his crotch. You watch him the whole time, eyes half-lidded and glazed but unmoving; he is a man in Heaven, in his greatest element. 

There is nowhere he would rather be than here, and there is nothing you’d rather be doing than giving your body up for the man you have become completely enamoured with.

One particular thrust inside of you makes you cry out unexpectedly, and his eyes flicker back up to find yours. His dick punches back up to where he last found himself, desperately searching for the spot that made you cry out, and when he finds it, a lazy smirk lifts on his lips.

“You’re a dream.”

Your mouth opens, and another blubbery cry falls out without you thinking: “Yes…m'yours, Jake..."

Not exactly what he said, but his chest swells with pride regardless.

“Damn straight,” he grunts, flicking his hips roughly. You choke a noise of surprise, feeling the coil of pleasure tighten in your belly right as Jake for some reason begins to move. He picks himself up off the rug and lifts you, spinning until he finds a surface he can set you down on. The first thing he finds is the little desk near the door, and he clears it with a sweep of his arm and wraps his arms around you tightly.

The cool metallic surface makes you shudder, although, with the way he spears himself back inside of you, the warmth quickly returns to consume your body. Jake bows his chest over you, fucking himself between your legs and watching with fascination at his cock disappearing past your folds. It looks the same as it did last time, to his delight, and he sucks in a hiss of breath, reaching for the mask again.

“Mmm, Jake, I really can’t anymore,” you rasp out, wrapping your legs desperately around his waist and clinging to the round shape of his biceps. He groans loudly once the mask falls back down from his face, his lips curling to a pout.

“You can’t cum yet,” he protests dumbly.

“Jake,” you say again, already feeling your orgasm threatening to spill. His eyes flash with worry, though you can’t imagine what he might have to be worried about. “I need to—”

“Please,” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek quickly, his voice a mumble against your skin as he says, “just a bit longer.”

You whimper right into Jake’s ear, his hips staggering into you for a second. More than anything, you want to find your release, to give up and let go and take a breather, but the desperation to make Jake happy finds itself taking precedence. 

In your heart, you know that Jake is currently on cloud nine, overjoyed just with fucking you like this — if you came right now, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. More than likely, he’d just carry on. Still, you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth and your whole cunt clenches tightly around him, which he takes as a silent order to keep going, and he receives the message loud and clear.

Now, he is a man on a mission — see how long you can go until you cum all over him.

Jake would happily spend all night between your legs, fucking the hole he’s stamped his name on, filling you up with so much cum you’d be finding it for days. Something chemical has happened to him since acting on his greatest desires; he dreads to think what he’d be doing, how he’d be feeling if he hadn’t been inspired by Norm’s hatred. 

To think that he’d be at his party in the village, maybe being swarmed by curious Omatikaya women with fascinations for their newest clan member, potentially even trying to redirect the feelings he has elsewhere… 

No. He schools the thoughts into silence. Why fret over the what-ifs when the present is the most perfect thing in the universe?

Jake drives his hips forward, shifting his lips from your cheek to your mouth and accepting the breathless kiss you eagerly give him. Your arms slacken; you keep one hand poised loyally on his bicep while the other reaches for the side of his face, fisting around one of the dishevelled braids to the side of his head. The burn of you tugging on them is barely even noticeable, or if it is, he doesn’t show it. Jake just presses his mouth against yours with a profound laziness, his hips slowing as he thrusts into you at a comfortable pace.

A part of you bursts open; as Jake pounds into your pussy in an uncharacteristically slow manner, he kisses you each time his cock burrows back inside. Your face is unbelievably hot as one of his thick arms curves around your back and appears by the side of your head, hand cradling your face. He has you pinned in place, yet with such little force that it would be easy for you to slither free if you wanted.

You want nothing less. Not when Jake is kissing you like it’s his favourite thing in the world to do. Not when your body is so numb and warm you can barely even feel your legs anymore. Not when the man you would do anything for is right where he belongs — up your snatch, on your mouth, smiling between each kiss.

His tail swirls from side to side slowly, content as he listens to the wet sound of your mouth against his own, the squelch of your drenched pussy filling his ears as they prick to hear himself sinking inside of you. Jesus fuck, you’re so wet — if it wasn’t making you so turned on at the thought of Jake being over the moon from the sound of it, then you’d be squirming in embarrassment.

Jake grins into your mouth, sniggering as the soaking sloppy sounds grow more pronounced. Knowing that he’s grinning because of that, and because he knows he’s the cause of it, your bottom lip curls into a pathetic whimper.

“Hear that?” It’s obvious that you can, he knows that. 

How he wishes you could smell it the way that he can — the smell of the sticky mess between both of your legs is nothing short of incredible; it's so sweet that when he inhales he almost shudders. You wouldn’t even need heightened Na’vi senses to smell the sex in the air, to smell Jake on your skin, to smell you over Jake’s face and body. 

A witty reply is on the tip of your tongue, but as Jake kisses you again, slobber around his mouth and yours, you can no longer fight the bubbling pleasure in your abdomen, the pressure that gets heavier the longer you hold out. 

Jake takes a sharp intake of breath, as if he can smell the distinct change in your body, the orgasm lapping over itself like a tidal wave until it breaches the surface — but his thrusting does not cease, not even when your entire body shakes beneath him, legs falling limp around his waist. And not even when he feels a wet warmth burst up over his chest, a horrified yet pleasured squeal ripping from your mouth as he glances down and sees your gushing release, the billows of cum pushing past the tight fit of his cock, and a shiny layer of juice on his chest.

He blinks in surprise, his eyes wide, and when his nose fills with the smell of you, the smell of your squirt over his torso, he laughs unexpectedly and lifts his head with the widest grin you’ve seen.

"Shit,” he laughs in disbelief, kissing away the aghast gape on your face. 

Even as he chuckles into you, you feel your face burning with embarrassment. It’s one thing to cum on Jake’s cock. It’s another thing to squirt on him. It’s an entirely different thing for Jake to find it hilariously sexy.

“I’m so sorry!” you blurt, hands immediately cupping Jake’s face. His nose furrows as his face twists, both in amusement and confusion.

“Why’re you saying sorry?” he asks, still trying to reign in his disbelieving laughs. It’s been a hot second since he made anyone squirt that hard, no less squirt down his chest. 

“I didn’t mean to do that,” you explain breathlessly. You barely even register the fact that Jake’s still thrusting into you until the numbness of your body subsides and each thrust upwards is met with a cry of overstimulated pleasure. “I’ve never done that, I—”

“You’re incredible,” Jake grins affectionately. You’re incredible.

Jake thinks he could go on for hours. He could go on until daybreak, until he heard the whirs of Trudy’s Samson over the top of the lab; he would continue fucking you until Norm stepped inside, until he found you both back here. But when you stare at him exhaustedly and smile back, his heart lurches out of his chest and changes his mind for him.

You feel Jake’s dick twitch inside of you, the feeling making you jolt slightly as he thrusts in a few more times, as if milking every last inch of your pussy until he’s forced to withdraw, and then he staggers forward, moaning loudly with a tight and sharp hiss, and a familiar warmth spurts in your stomach.

Jake’s back is bent over, his chest bowed over yours as he shudders through his orgasm; the unmistakable warmth of his cum pools in your stomach, ropes of it filling you up until it slips down past your quivering hole to the table beneath your ass and back. He groans a few times, fumbling for the mask before pressing it to his mouth. 

“Yeah,” you sigh. You could very well be floating up off the table for all you knew. 

Peering down at the sight of his hard dick still snuggled in your cunt, you watch the thick trails of his cum squeezing out of you. You kiss his temple while his head is still hanging low and mutter, “Fill me up, big guy.”

Jake moans, lips sealed closed — actually, it sounds more like a sob. “Jesus.”

“Give it to me,” you continue, murmuring the words against his head. Hey, you’re feeling much bolder now that he’s exhausted himself and you don’t have to worry about having another orgasm denied and then ripped out of you. 

Jake chuckles breathlessly, all of the breath back in his lungs now that he’s emptied himself inside of you. “Didn’t you say you were glad humans couldn’t get knocked up by Na’vi?”

“No? When?”

He scoffs, eyes lifting to yours as he levels you with a challenging look. “Oh, so you want that? Want me to breed you like a dog, Spellman? Fill you up, watch that tummy grow?”

The revelation of Jake’s unexpected breeding kink makes you laugh. Once, Jake had told the lab that he didn’t know if he wanted kids — didn’t think he’d be a good father, didn’t think he’d be able to cope with the pressure of it. Perhaps it’s his Na’vi instincts calling out in a tune, making him besotted with the idea, but either way, you grin at him playfully and press a kiss to his mouth. 

“Nah,” you assure him. His smile neither fades nor grows, thank goodness. “I’m in no rush for any of that, Sully.”

He sniggers, then. “Me too,” and after a quick kiss he slowly heaves himself out of you, watching your jaw slacken as he slides out with a sickeningly loud pop. “It’s fucking sexy to say it, though.”

Suddenly, as if he forgot for a moment, Jake’s head cranes to your cunt and as his cum swells near your hole, he grins and watches it as it threatens to drool out. When it does, down your ass cheek and onto the surface of the table, his tail thrashes in joy and his fangs glint in the light. 

“Yum,” he says, swiping his thumb across the little puddle of your cum and his and he sucks his lips around it, the little smack of his lips as he pulls it away making your thighs clamp together. “You taste good, honey.”

“It’s more you than me.”

Jake rises, his back still bent due to the low ceiling of the lab, but even now he’s looming over you, his hands reaching to help pull you up from your uncomfortable position to sit upright. You lift with a comically dramatic groan, and Jake rolls his eyes as you hunch forward, hands massaging your thighs sorely.

“I’m broken again,” you mumble, feeling the burn in your muscles as Jake takes himself to where his bunk is and fetches a towel from one of his storage boxes. By the time he gets back, the puddle of cum between your legs has doubled in size. 

“You’ll manage,” Jake tells you affectionately, laying the towel flat in his best attempt to milk up the cum still pulsing out of you. He looks at the towel with a cringe — he can only hope the smell and colour will come out in the laundry.

After Jake’s done his best to clean you up, he takes himself to the laundry shoot and tosses the towel inside, making his way back to you quickly before you can stand up and stalk off somewhere. 

“I brought you something, actually,” he tells you, suddenly thinking back to the gift he has strapped to his ikran’s leathers outside. 

You hum vaguely. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. Neytiri helped me think of it before I got here. Just something quick and silly, but you’re gonna—”

“Oh, yeah,” you interrupt, reminded of how Jake ended up here in the first place. “Are you sure it was a good idea telling Neytiri that you already had a woman?”

Jake pauses. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing like that. Just that… Well, won’t she say something to the other villagers?” you think aloud. It had been on your mind in passing when Jake first told you when he’d arrived, but now that it’s back in your head, you can see Jake processing the thought before dropping to his haunches in a valiant effort to see you evenly. 

“She’s close with the village, that’s all,” you continue. “And with Grace, I imagine.”

He blinks dumbly. “Oh yeah.”

For a second, nothing is said. How could Jake have not thought of that?

Realistically, you know that Jake was just excited to tell someone that he had a woman in his life — you hadn’t been presumptuous enough to believe that Jake couldn’t find someone even if he hadn’t acted on his impulses a few nights ago, but even now that you know he meant you after all, you can’t help but think of all the ways it may come back to bite you in the ass.

“I mean,” Jake says slowly, tail flicking, “I was hoping we’d tell people eventually. I don’t wanna hide with you forever.”

“Wait, you want to tell people?”

He looks at you with a funny look of bemusement. “Obviously.”

“About us fucking?”

“What? Well, I mean, yes, in a sense, but more like that we’re together.”

“…Are we?”

“I thought you were the smart one.”

“I’m just… You wanna be with me?” you ask. You’re almost certain that you look and sound stupid, based on the way Jake is staring at you with a wild look of alarm, but, can he blame you? You were just about getting around Jake wanting to sleep with you — now, he’s basically asking you out.

Jake splutters out a nervous laugh. “Was that seriously not obvious?”

You don’t allow him to feel nervous as you reach for his arms in reassurance. The feeling of your hands around his wrists calms him almost immediately. 

“If you want to be my man, Jake Sully, there are requirements to meet.” His brows curve curiously, though the sloping smile on his face reappears, to your relief. “I will also need to speak with human Jake Sully about this development. This relationship goes three ways, as you know.”

“Fair enough,” he says, doing his best not to laugh at how cute he thinks you are. “I’m sure he’d be more than happy for you to just forget all about him, though.”

“Never gonna happen,” you stress to him. “And I need quality time with you. If we fuck all the time, I’m scared my vagina will actually break beyond repair. You have two bodies to please me with, I’ve only got the one. You have to go easy on me.”

“Noted,” he nods. It’s sweet how seriously he’s taking all of this. 

“And, last but not least…” You trail off and reach forward to kiss his lips again. Jake’s eyes flutter closed — his lips are still slightly tingly from kissing you stupid. You pull away all too quickly for his liking, and when he opens his eyes to look for you, his entire face softens affectionately. “We need to do something about Norm.”

Sighing dramatically, Jake weighs the very difficult options in his head. 

Become his woman by spending more time with you? Easy. Consider it already done. But kill all the fun and tell Norm before he figures it out the hard way? Jake’s lips curl into a scowl at the thought of such a marvellous opportunity going wasted.

“How about…we do all of that and let Norm find out by himself?” Jake suggests. It’s an even trade — you’ll both get what you want, and you’ll both feel scores of satisfaction at the end of it.

When you don’t say anything for a moment, Jake is prepared to sign his defeat and give in, but then, when you grin at him and shrug, he hears the holy gates of Heaven open up in his favour and the angels sing.

Yep. You’re his. He’s yours. 

Now he just can’t wait for everyone else to find out about it.

[writers-potion]

do you have any dialogue prompts for enemies to lovers (like the stages separately)? thanks

Enemies-to-Lovers Dialogue Prompts

A mix of prompts from: @celestialwrites, @corvase, @novelbear, @unboundprompts and myself, @writers-potion

1. Making the Enemy

"Cry me a river and drown in it."

“You are a mockery of philosophy.”

“You are truly pathetic if you thought I’d ever rely on you."

“Oh bravo! No one cared.”

“You’re nothing, you were nothing even to your mother/father.”

“You’re on a path of self destruction and I’m not going to stop it."

“Having you around is just like having a nightmare I can’t wait to wake from.”

“what even is the point of you?”

2. The Clash

"I've met a lot of funny people in my life, but you... you are the most hysterical."

"I'm not trusting someone who looks like... that."

"I can't wait to wipe that wicked smirk off of your smug face."

"You know if you do this, you'll be fucked too, right?"

"Am I being too rough? Well, I'm only getting started."

“i think we’re friends now.” “God, don’t say that.”

“everything is just a competition for you… isn’t it?” “isn’t it for you, too?”

“h—” “don’t talk to me.”

“i’d pay good money for you to admit you tolerate me.” “tolerate being the operative word.”

“why can’t you open up to me?” “why do you want me to?”

3. A Shift In the Air

“i realise that i am clearly irresistible but..why did you choose to act on all the flirting now?”

“wanna do it again?”

“should we like. talk about it”

“you’re..extremely red” “shut up” “like actually vermillion” “go to hell”

“are we about to kiss right now” as a joke, but then the other character actually leans in

“look since the events of last night i can safely say that i have discovered multiple new techniques to shut you up, and i am not afraid to use them”

“this never happened” “consider it forgotten” proceeds to happen many times after

4. Being Vulnerable/ Losing for Love

“Since when did you ever care about me?!” “Since fucking forever, you idiotic dunce!”

“Well, I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened and I can’t do shit about it.” “You… What?” 

“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you?” 

"i brought you flowers." "for what?" "there has to be a reason?"

“I’m not…used to feeling this way, okay?”

“Oh - don’t fucking do that.”

"shut up and kiss me"

"such a pretty liar mhmm"

“We might have been wrong.”

5. Lovers At Last

"you want me?" "you know i do"

"i hate you." "hate and love, what's the difference, darling?"

"i want to stab them, i want to shoot them, but my fucking god i want to kiss them too."

"you better kill me soon because it's the only way you will ever be able to keep me away."

"what are you doing?" "asking you to marry me? daggers and all."

[acid-ixx]

I hope you don’t mind but I need to ramble this to someone, neglected Wayne reader right? The fam would forget to bring them to social events and whatnot right? So there would be very few pictures, articles and interviews or even facts about them, meaning that reader Wayne is a rarity. Still following me? Reader Wayne with a small but devout fanbase.

I’m talking they are trading the latest pictures and sharing links to the rare interview with reader in it, following any social media they have that isn’t private, they are just fascinated by this micro celebrity that seems to always be forgotten. Okay but also imagine one of the heroes developing a para-social attachment to reader. My money is on Conner Kent, mainly bc he can project his own issues with his dads onto reader and he can Dolores ~Encanto~ reader with his super hearing and develop a even bigger parasocial obsession with them

I hope you enjoyed this ramble, I will leave you be now, see ya later alligator! 🐊

omg another one of my asks that actually predicted a major plot point... this ask ties well with the last part written here. i'm thinking about having the reader get a love interest/s but i have already written an outline but one thing is for sure—

you have more than just your family interested in taking you.

major spoilers below the cut. — an excerpt from chapter xx

(name) wayne may have been a name forcefully deleted off of the face of the internet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its conspiracies of its own. nobody knows who you are beyond the blurry, unsolicited pictures of you. it may have been a photograph of your back, or articles published in unknown websites and buried at the far end about a kid entering through the fancy gates of the wayne manor.

you are a product of a one-night-stand.

but they don't know who the mother is, don't know your age, or where you come from, and what business bruce has with the woman to guarantee your adoption at the instance she had disappeared without warning.

your existence was a mystery most would like to solve. after all, it was your picture that was plastered all over the newspapers and articles, it was your name that journalists whisper and it was a silhouette of your face that the underground knows by heart. every known information about you was shared discretely yet efficiently like some sort of virus.

you were a target for interest, a large sum of money if they will. and alfred had taken it in his hands to make sure there would never be a repeat of what had happened before.

it was a clumsy mistake, one that cost you your memories, and one he swears on his life he'll never make again.

the first course of action he needs to arrange, which may seem difficult for most; he needs to confront bruce.

after all, your freedom is your doom.

maybe this is out of the picture, but id' like to imagine you and connor having a therapy session where one comes out absolutely obsessed with the other, and it's not you.

connor's character for me is so, so good for an angst potential. it's like his personal struggles is a way for him to show you how absolutely you two are meant to be. and he may have met you through bumping into you (false) or maybe... he has seen you stalking through the shadows back when he visits the manor. using his superhearing, he can hear your voice from the kitchen begging alfred to relay a message to bruce, sounding so absolutely desperate. it's the way you tell alfred how you wished your father actually spends time with you, or how nobody seems to notice you— that he kind of just makes a silent promise that he will talk to you soon, he needs to know why this family seems so keen on ignoring and how hypocritical tim is for literally doing the same thing to you when he's aware of kon's past.

if he (or anyone else) should be a love interest (though he is a minor character in the series unless you guys want him to be a major one), i can already imagine the absolute hell you have to suffer not only from your family but from your own lover. just imagine the stockholm syndrome or the delusions you convince yourself with because you're finally loved by someone but that love restricts you from the very freedom you tried to build.

the batfamily would be so conflicted because why are you choosing some stranger over them...? then you slap them in the face with, "well, this "stranger" wants to kidnap me and lock me up, sure! but at least they actually looked at me for more than five seconds!" and you can watch how the color drains off their face, their conflict giving you the perfect opportunity to run away from both your ex-family and your soon-to-be-kidnapper-lover who thinks your comeback is a funny way for you to propose.

[bbyquokka]

blow me instead?

– “Why should I blow out the candles, when you can just blow me instead?” prompt

pairing | lee felix x gender-neutral reader

genre | smut – 18+ is strongly advised!

cw | established relationship ; dom felix ; oral sex (blowjob) ; finger sucking ; cum swallowing ; deep throating

words | 2.6k ~ ( 2,693 ) + 2 fake texts !

notes | a lil smth for felix's bday. jisung's will be posted at a later date when i've finished it :( don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — wips list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

you forgot. you’ve forgotten the most important day of the year and you are currently kicking yourself for it. it’s felix’s birthday, the one day of the year that you look forward to every single year – but for some unknown reason, this year you forgot.

maybe it’s because you’ve both been really busy that you haven’t given it a second thought. you’re always well prepared for things like this, but this year it slipped your mind.

you knew you forgotten something but you couldn't tell what. you had that nagging feeling in the back of your mind but you pushed it to the side. “i’ll figure it out later” you always told yourself only to forget – once again.

it wasn't until the day before, did you looked at your calendar and see ‘15th sept’ circled and decorated in hearts, labelled ‘felix’s bday!!’ did you panic. that nagging feeling quickly turned into a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. worry and panic washing over you and coating your skin in a cold sweat.

it was way into the night to go to the store to pick something up. everything was closed. you thought about making him something but realised that you don't have the materials to do so. so a quick search on the web was your last resort. you hoped you could find something that would do next day delivery but alas, after several hours of searching and drawing up blanks, did you accept your fate.

you woke up the day of his birthday, feeling guilty and it's eating you alive. you don't think you'd be able to face to him without bursting into tears.

“i should at least wish him a happy birthday.” you mumble. you take your phone from the night stand and open up felix's contact. your thumb hovers over the green circle. 

you hesitate. lips pursed together. you overthink. you can hear his sullen tone of voice. you can see his facial expressions twisted into sadness. your heart aches and feels tight, like someone is gripping onto it.

“fuck. i can't.” you throw your phone onto the bed beside you, watching it bounce from impact before rubbing your face with your hands and groaning. “maybe a shower will help me. i’ll call him then!” 

you didn't call him. in fact, you spent the whole day avoiding him. you did pop to the store and buy a small box of cupcakes and some candles. you had this idea of surprising him by turning up at his place with a fancy birthday cake, thinking it's better than nothing,  but when the store only had cupcakes to offer, that idea was quick to fizzle out.

the cakes are now sitting on the counter, untouched and unopened. you're in your lounge wear on the sofa, TV on but you're not tuned into whatever show it's playing. instead, you're on your social media, looking at what felix has been up to the whole day.

pictures of felix with chan, jisung and hyunjin. birthday wishes from friends and family flood his profiles. you're glad he's had a good day but that guilt just won't go away. 

you've shamelessly avoided him the whole day because you couldn't face him. it's cowardly of you and you know it, but in a way, you just shut off.

you rush to your feet. your sock covered soles slapping against the floor as you rush to the door. you open it and come face to face with a not so pleased looking felix.

'“i see you're still alive.” you swallow. he sounds irritated. he's angry at you and you don't blame him.

“felix, i–”

“are you going to let me in or are we just going to stand out in the hallway?” he cuts you off. you look down at your feet and shuffle to the side, opening the door wider for him.

he walks in, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his coat as you close the door behind him. he notices the unopened cupcakes and pack of birthday candles by the side of them.

“so?” he starts as he looks at you. your chin is tucked into your chest, fingers fiddling with one another. you feel like a child about to be told off by a parent.

“i'm so sorry, felix.” you start, keeping your eyes glued to your feet. you don't want to make eye contact with him because the guilt of forgetting is eating you alive. it's making you feel incredibly nauseous.

“for?” his arms crossed against his chest as he looks down at you, brow raised. his authoritative and dominant aura seeps out from his pores and clouds you, suffocating you in the process.

“... i–uh…” you start, words lodged in your throat. felix lets out a small, irritated sigh. “I forgot about your birthday.” 

your voice is small and cracks. you furiously blink back the tears that are threatening to spill from your lower lash line.

“you forgot?” you nod slowly. “is that why you've been avoiding me?” you nod again. “why?”

“because i thought you'd be angry at me… like right now.” felix runs his fingers through his hair slowly.

“i’m not angry that you forgot. it happens. i’m angry because you avoided me on my birthday.”

“i know.. i’m sorry.” you look up at him and chew your bottom lip. the cupcakes catch the corner of your eye. you rush to then, opening them and the candles before sticking one in the middle of the cake.

felix follows you and watches you with eager eyes. his gaze suddenly feels hot. he licks his lips as he admires your body, eyes flickering up and down.

he's undressing you with his eyes. 

you turn around, holding the cupcake in your hand with the candle flame flickering. you present it in front of felix and smile.

“i got you cupcakes though. i know it's not much but i couldn't find anything on such short notice…” felix simply hums and looks at the cake, then you. “are you not going to blow it out?” you question after some seconds pass.

felix leans in close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear as his voice drops and becomes low and deep. his warm breath fans against your ear as he speaks.

“why should i blow out the candles when you can just blow me instead?” 

goosebumps ripple along your skin. your heart suddenly starts racing. his breath feels ticklish against your ear, body temperature suddenly rising

“f-felix!” you squeak as he pulls back, finding amusement at your shocked facial expression. 

“i assume you didn't get me a gift so i can consider a blowjob as one. and if you do a good job, maybe i’ll let you off the hook for avoiding me on my special day.” 

“i–” you swallow a little, the heat from the candle is radiating onto your chin, adding to the increase of your own body temperature.

felix keeps his brow raised before trailing his hand down his torso to his groin where he squeezes and groans softly.

you can't take your eyes off him. you watch his hand squeeze and palm himself through his jeans. his veins bulging from his hands and arms. 

he kicks his head back a little, lips parting and giving you a view of his outstretched neck. his adams apple bobbing with his swallows. soft moan and grunts leaving his parted lips.

“don't just stand there.” his deep voice brings you back down to reality. “blow me.”

you place the cake down on the counter (after you blow out the candle) before kneeling in front of felix. he looks down at you. his dominate aura making you feel small and vulnerable but excited.

you can feel the pit of your stomach tingle and bubble with excitement. warmth coating your groin. the tips of your fingers and toes feel electric from the surging feeling of excitement that's mixed in with hormones.

you reach up and slide your hands up and under his t-shirt. his warm skin hugs the tips of your fingers. the sturdiness of his abs flexing and tensing with his stomach moving in time with his breathing.

you feel his smooth skin, tracing his muscles with your fingers. the only thing that isn't smooth, however, is the small, yet noticeable happy trail that runs from his belly button and disappears below his jean waistband.

“mhm..” felix hums softly, your touch giving him goosebumps. you move your hands lower until they come into contact with the rough fabric of his denim jeans.

you look up at him, asking for permission with your eyes to which he gives with a nod of his head.

you unbutton and unzip his jeans slowly, revealing that he is wearing black designer boxer shorts. you notice how his bulge is slowly, but surely, getting bigger with each passing second as he anticipates and waits.

you pull his jeans down to his knees. you press the palm of your hand against his crotch, massaging him slowly. he huffs. his cock twitching against the palm of your hand.

you give him a few gentle squeezes. your touch is too gentle for his liking so he looks down again you with glossy eyes.

“harder.”

you oblige by wrapping your fingers around his clothed length and squeezing, hard. his hips buck slightly and a soft, deep moan falls from his lips.

you feel his warm hand pressing against your cheek as his fingers graze along your jawline before bumping against your bottom lip.

he slowly strokes your lip, chewing on his own. 

“look at me.” you look up at him, making eye contact. two of his fingers nudge between your lips, gently pushing past them as you part them.

“good.” he whispers as his fingers caress your tongue. your brows furrow together, lips wrapping around the two digits as you suck. your saliva coats felix's fingers thoroughly whilst he pushes them further into your mouth until they're fully encapsulated in the warmth of your mouth.

the hand that around his clothed length has slowed down and is now loosely gripping him. your groin feels hot and excited, tingles in your stomach as felix explores the inside of your mouth with his two fingers before pulling them out slowly.

he gives a satisfying ‘hm’ before instructing you to continue with the nod of his head.

you whimper a little and reach up with both hands, grabbing the waistband of his boxer shorts. your fingertips brush against his hot skin, causing felix to shiver and huff in excitement.

you slowly pull down his underwear, revealing his happy train and v-lines slowly before his erect penis is revealed, bouncing and twitching at the sudden cold air hitting his hot shaft.

felix lets out a small breath of relief. the feeling of being restrained is no longer an issue. his hips buck slightly as you wrap your hand around the base of his shaft, stroking it slowly.

you watch the man above you slowly crumble. his penis twitching, pre-cum leaking from his slit. his shaft is hot against the palm of your hand, tip red and a few veins protruding along the sides.

your hand glides up and down his penis, rotating at the top. you use the pad of your thumb to gently rub his tip, smearing the pre-cum and making his tip glisten.

the sensitivity gets to felix. his hips rocking a little in your hand against his will, thigh muscles noticeable twitching. his head flops to the side slightly, half-lidded eyes looking down at you and watching your every move.

you lean in and lick the side of his shaft a few times before pressing your tongue against his tip and swiping it several times. his salty pre-cum coats your tastes buds, making you feel more excited.

you rub your thighs together as the heat in your groin is unbearable at this point. you're desperate for some sort of friction and attention but you're too into pleasuring felix. with the way felix is right now, you know he is going to be selfish and chase his own high.

your free hand cups and caresses his balls. felix hums softly as you roll and squeeze them gently in your hand whilst kitten licking his tip.

“c’mon, baby. you know i need more than that.” 

you close your eyes as you wrap your lips around his tip. felix shudders and huffs a little, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. you gently suckle on his tip, swirling your tongue around it a few times before slowly lowering your head and pushing more of him into your mouth.

the corner of your lips feels stretched, mouth stuffed. you try to make your jaw slack but even that is a struggle with how thick and long felix is.

you struggle to put half of his length in, settling with a little under. you can feel his tip bumping the back of your throat and saliva is quick to accumulate in your mouth.

felix huffs and puffs, body shuddering and twitching. he reaches down and runs his fingers through your hair a few times. 

you start to bob your head slowly. your hand stroking what your mouth struggles to reach. the head and hand move in synch with each other, providing equally, if not more, pleasure to felix.

he feels the pleasure rushing through his veins and burning. his toes curl against the floorboards and his grip on your hair tightening with each suck as a way to keep him stable and grounded.

“...fuck … baby, m-more..” he pants.

you oblige, increasing speed and intensity. felix's moans become more intense and breathy. his body and mind failing to comprehend the intense feeling of warmth and wetness from your mouth as well as the coolness of your palm.

“... oh fuck.. yes… so fucking good…” 

this just encourages you even more. you remove your hand and place them both on his thighs for stability. you push your head further down his length until you can feel it down your throat.

you hold back your gag reflex, swallowing a few times to tighten your throat around him. felix lets out a string of incoherent moans and whispers. 

your jaw hurts. your lips hurts. your knees hurt and you can't breath but listening to felix whimper and crumble makes it all worth.

you feel him twitch in your mouth. his hips thrusting involuntarily. he's a mess and he's close.

his balls are tightening and his body is coated in a thin layer of sweat. the sensitivity of his cock head is overbearing. 

“don’t stop.. 'm close..” he struggles to say between his moaning. his strangled moans mix in with the sloppy, wet sounds of your mouth. 

he lowers his head, chin tucked into chest as he whimpers. a string of “fuck” leaves his lips as he grips onto you. it doesnt take him long. his cock twitches in your mouth, hot fluid coating your tongue and throat.

felix whimpers and whines, huffing and puffing. his body twitches and jerks. you help him ride out his orgasm before slowly pulling away. 

you look up at him, making eye contact as you swallow. felix shudders and strokes your swollen bottom lip, saliva collecting on the pad of his thumb.

“you did good, yn.” with felix's help, you rise to your feet. the numb feeling of pain on your knees becoming more noticeable now that your legs are outstretched.

“does this mean i’m forgiven?” you mumble. felix nods and strokes your hair gently.

“sorta.” you look at him slightly confused. “my birthday isn't over just yet, yn.”

“true… so, what do you want?” 

felix takes you by the hand and drags you to the bedroom. he gently throws you onto the bed, stripping himself of his clothing as you lean on your forearms and watch.

“i want so much more.” he purrs as he crawls onto the bed, towering over you and kissing the shell of your ear.

“i’m a greedy man, yn. you should know that a blowjob is not nearly enough to satisfy me.”

[misserabella]

come over

abby anderson x fem! reader

pt2

summary; strangely enough, your number one enemy since kindergarten and captain of the basketball club of your college calls you up one night begging you to come over to her dorm room. after knocking on her door, things will take a turn that you would have never expected.

CW;; +18 content! minors dni!, cursing, dirty talk, nipple play, bullying and fights, teasing, oral sex (r receiving), strap on use (r receiving), abby calls the strap her cock, jealousy, possessiveness, dacryphilia, overstimulation, squirting, spanking, finger fucking, hair pulling, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms… MINORS DNI!!!

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

You were having a really bad day. Not bad, horrible.

First of all, your alarm didn’t go off for some stupid reason and caused you to 1. getting late to school and 2. getting your teacher to lower your grade just because he’s a goddamn asshole that hates you.

Second of all, you’d forgotten your lunch and your wallet, so you were now starving unable to buy anything to eat (thank god one of your friends had shared with you her sandwich or else you would be dead by now). And third of all…

“And what do we have here?”

Her.

You rolled your eyes, feeling your skin heating up and your insides turning with disgust and anger as you turned around to face the most annoying fucking person you’ve ever met.

“Give it back, Anderson.”

Abigail Anderson, the name that would appear on your worst nightmares, the monster under your bed, the last person you’d ever want to live through the end of the world with... Your enmity had been going strong since kindergarten, when she had picked on you for your looks since day one just because. Then, she started to tell her friends and those around you to not go near you or else they’d catch lice.

She needed to be on top of you all the time; if there was a race on P.E, she’d make you trip with her foot to get you on your knees and win (leaving you all bloody and injured), if there were presentations to be made in front of the whole class she’d crack up jokes to make everyone laugh at you, giving you quite the public anxiety and if you somewhat got to win her in anything (probably at grades) she’d go nuts and get so pissed that she’d make your life impossible for the next few months by trashing your locker, ‘accidentally’ throwing her drinks all over you, telling the teachers that she saw you cheating…

It only got worse when you found your best friend: Ellie Williams. You became inseparable in high school. And she made your life impossible.

You stapled a poster at the university’s ‘news wall’. It was Ellie’s, she was about to go on a tour and had asked you if it would be okay to hang some posters to let everyone know. Through the years, The Fireflies had gained fame and a lot of followers.

“The freak is going on a tour?” she scoffed, raising her eyebrows. “Disgusting. She really thinks she’s gonna become a superstar or some shit…”

You fisted your hands, your heart being squished under the nickname that your friend had had to grow up with just because she liked things the others didn’t.

“Don’t call her that.” you said, your eyes straight into hers.

“ ‘Freak’?” she teased you, swaying away the poster when you tried and take it back. “What do you want me to call her then, hm? Delusional, maybe.” she thought out loud, when she noticed your furious expression, she simply shrugged. “Just stating facts.” the people around you had gathered to listen to your bickering. It was a daily coincidence now, Anderson being always the one looking for trouble. Some of them laughed at her words… Jerks. Just like her.

“You know what, Anderson? Sure, call her whatever you want.” you said, ripping from his hands the poster. “But I assure you, that you’ll never be not an inch of a girl that she is. All that height and still no brains. ” that made the crowd burst out in laughter. You were filled with proudness when you noticed her jaw tightening and her body going stiff. You were no outcast now, you were popular to be honest, and everybody knew the two of you since Anderson was the basketball team captain and you the cheerleader team captain. It was hell on the games, each of you always fighting each other off. But your teammates had grown so accustomed to it that they just laughed at your little fights. “So go ahead and run your mouth, ‘cause I’m sure yours will never get to places hers have never been.” you leaned in. “And hold your tongue, ‘cause Ellie knows how to use hers really well.” you whispered inches away from her face, giving her a wink before stapling the poster to the board and leaving her behind with tightened fists and heated cheeks.

It was a big day for you and your team, and you didn’t have time for play dates.

—

“y/n!” your eyes shone when to your ears the familiar sound of your best friend’s voice ringed.

You turned around, with your pompoms in hand and high ponytail, your college’s cheerleader uniform shining due to the lights that lightened the whole basketball court.

“Els!” you smiled, so bright that almost blinded, running and jumping on your friend’s arms, who easily caught you and squeezed you in a tight hug. “You made it!” you laughed as she twirled you around.

“Of course I made it, it’s your big night after all. Although I still don’t get this basketball and cheering thing…” she left a sweet peck on your cheek. “But look at you all dolled up! Is it for me?” she winked, leaning just the slightest in, enough for her to whisper on your ear.

You laughed, playfully pushing at her chest. “Of course Ellie, you know I’m all yours.” you winked back, making her let out a quick laughter.

“I really need to put a ring on you, Ms. Williams.” she pointed at you as the music that let the public know that the match was about to start started to play through the speakers and she backed off to the stairs to sit and leave you to your cheerleading.

“I’ll be waiting on it, Ms. Williams!” she sent you a flying kiss that only made you giggle and roll your eyes. You loved Ellie, she always found a way to make you laugh and that’s something that you truly appreciated. She was the only one that truly got you.

You turned around to call for your teammates, your smile fading as fast as your eyes bumped against those blue ones that you do well knew at this rate.

Anderson looked at you with such a pissed expression… Water bottle tightly clutched in one of her hands, about to burst. She let it fall to the ground along with the towel that stood on her shoulders when her coach called out for her with his whistle, giving Ellie, who was on the first step on your back a death glare as she ran to the center of the court to shake hands with the other team captain.

What the…

“Girls come on!!” you called for the cheerleaders on your team as you still looked at the stiff body of your incarnated hell. What the fuck is wrong with her?

“Assume positions!”

Not my problem.

You shrugged it off and started to cheer for your team along with the public that had come to watch the match, most of them students from both colleges. And through all of it, you tried and ignore the harsh eyes that bore holes on the back of your neck, even if your skin felt like being on fire.

…

It was late at night in your dorm room, your roommate having left to stay at her girlfriend’s house since it was Friday. You were snacking on some candy and chips as you watched your favorite show, Teen Wolf, along with Ellie, who had sneaked to your bedroom, laying in your bed fully covered and with your pjs on. After the game, which you sadly had lost, you had watched as a very infuriated Abby walked out of the court and the gym, not without giving you and Ellie, who was hugging you and congratulating you for your efforts regardless of the result of the match, a pretty harsh glare that clearly said ‘fuck you two.’

Jeez, you didn’t know what has gotten her so riled up that afternoon but you surely hoped for her to go and drown her sorrows somewhere as quietly as possible and leave you alone.

“Hell yeah!” you cheered to the power couple as they shared their first kiss, almost jumping and throwing all your chips around and on your best friend when Isaac and Allison finally shared their first kiss.

“Ugh. Really Allison?! I was expecting better from you.” the auburn haired guitarist gasped, acting hurt at the ‘betrayal’. She was team Scott. Which was obviously stupid since he now liked Kira.

“What are you talking about?! Scott has moved on, doesn’t she have the right to do so too?” Ellie gave you a side glance as in a ‘no’, but she quickly laughed when you hit her shoulder with a ‘hey!’.

Your attention was completely on the screen when your phone started buzzing on your side table. You took a new bite at your candy as you reached for it, still not focusing on it as you took. the call. It was probably your roommate calling to check in.

“Hello?” you talked into the line, waiting for a few seconds for an answer that never came. You checked the screen, ‘Unknown number’ showing on its center. You furrowed your eyebrows “Hello? Who’s this?” Ellie paused the series and rose to sit up on your bed along with you, mouthing a ‘who’s it?’. You simply shrugged and mouthed back a ‘no idea’. The sudden appearance of a sharp and heavy breathing caught you off ward for a couple of seconds before you rolled your eyes.

“Are you serious?” you huffed, thinking it was a stupid phone call. “We're in college, how about we stop playing Scream and start being more matures?” you said, and just as you were about to hang up, a rather familiar voice croaked out:

“y/n."

You froze, your breath hitching as your brain tried to convince itself that you had heard right “Anderson?” you were in shock for a couple of seconds, Ellie furrowed his eyebrows and looked at you in utter disbelief. When the casual anger grew inside you with just the mention of her name appeared you snapped at her. “Do you know what hour it is… No. Why the fuck are you calling me in first place?” you rolled your eyes. For just a couple of hours that you were enjoying yourself with your best friend, of course she had to come and ruin it. She always does and always will.

She was silent for an instant before her voice breaks out in a whimper that makes your stomach flip.

“Please.”

“W…What?” your eyebrows were knitted together so hard it was painful. Ellie just hits you in the arm, silently asking you to tell her what’s going on. You just swatted her hand away and lift a finger to quiet her.

“Please.” she repeated.

“Are you drunk or something? You should-“ you started, but she was quick to cut you off.

“y/n…” that was something different. The way your name fell from her lips in such need, hunger… “Come over. Please come over. I need you so bad…”

“I-“

“y/n, what is it?” Ellie spoke up, and you could hear the tension from the other part of the line rise.

“Fuck. Is Williams there with you?” Abby affirmed more than asked.

“y/n!” Ellie asked again.

“y/n.” but the voice of Anderson on the other line had you too out of focus. The way you could hear the begging on her tone, the need…

You didn’t know what had gotten over you, but you found yourself quick on your feet to grab your dorm keys.

“Wait for me.”

Ellie stood up as well and watch you hang up and made your way out of your room after putting on a pair of shoes.

“Where are you going?” Ellie inquired, completely and utterly lost. “You’re leaving?”

“I’ll be right back, I promise. I think there’s something wrong with Anderson. You can continue with the serie and use my bed, alright?” you quickly muttered, and when you caught her stepping closer and raising her hand to say something and find out whatever the hell was going on, you closed the door on her face.

You made your way over to her room’s wing, having been there before to parties and so. And before you knew it, you had knocked on her door. You didn’t have to wait a long time before she appeared on its threshold, her normally perfectly combed and braided hair being a mess, shirtless and with only a pair of sweats and a sports bra on. She looked like a mess, with red cheeks, swollen bitten lips, glassed eyes and shaky breathing.

“Anderson, what the hell are you…” a scream almost got ripped out of you at the harsh yank that took place on your arm. Before you knew it you had been pulled inside and smashed against the now closed door of her room, her body towering over yours and her breath caressing your face.

Fuck. You’ve never been this close before.

“You’re driving me insane.” she said, one of her hands cupping your cheek, dark shiny eyes connecting with yours before they’d drift back to your lips. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me all day. Knowing that Williams got to touch you, taste you… Is killing me. And her being in your room? Having you in her arms? Thinking about her just touching you is… Fuck.” you chocked. You didn’t understand. Wasn’t she supposed to hate you? Despise you? Then why…? “I can’t stop imagining her kissing you, holding you…” her thumb pressed over your bottom lip, tugging on it, admiring. “You were supposed to pay attention to me. You were supposed to think about me.” your heart was thumping against your ribs, and you felt like dying when she harshly kissed you. It was fast, and angry. Her tongue was quick to push inside your mouth, your teeth clashing and your body being pulled against her. You whimpered, your hands finding her hair as you pulled her closer. You’d never felt this way. How your whole body seemed to combust, the shaking of your limbs, the thumping of your heart…

But what was going on? ‘Pay attention to her’? ‘Think of her’? What was that supposed to mean? Had Anderson always treat you badly to get your attention? To get under your skin one way or another?

You were burning, so badly that she felt like snow.

“Fuck.” she muttered as she pulled away. “Been dreaming of doing that since the first time you yelled at me.” you whimpered when her warm hands took a harsh hold of your waist, pulling you against her close and tight enough for you to feel her body heat, her hard nipples through her bra.

Her mouth was back on yours, and your whole world was spinning. Her hair on your hands, her gasps against your lips, her pine scent…

“Yeah, that’s right.” she muttered, a little smirk showing in her factions when she noticed your dazed and unfocused eyes. “Focus on me. Just me.” she whispered on your ear before her lips latched to your neck, sucking on your skin hard enough to mark you up. You moaned, her hands sneaking inside your pj’s shirt and slowly making its way upwards, towards your chest.

“Fuck, Anderson.” you gasped when her warm hands took your tits, massaging them and rolling your nipples in between her fingers as she pressed a leg in between your legs, making your aching pussy brush against the lean muscle of her thigh.

“Abby.” she corrected. “It’s Abby for you, baby.”

“Abby.” you moaned when she pushed upwards with her leg, helping you ride it.

“That’s right. But you need to say it a little bit louder, hm? Need to let everybody know that it’s me who you are moaning for.” you whimpered at her words, her large hands leaving your chest to take your hips and pick you up to make her way to her king size bed. She lifted you so easily it was dizzying, the muscles of her arms popping

You felt almost crushed against the duvet when she pinned you down to it underneath her weight. Almost, ‘cause right at that exact moment, you just wished she could be closer, she could be harsher, smush you against the bed and fuck you senseless ‘till you are nothing more than a babbling mess.

“That’s right.” she smirked when you pulled her closer, choked when her hands were once again pulling your top up slowly. “Fuck. You drive me insane.” she muttered when your chest was fully uncovered. “Fucking beautiful.” you moaned when her mouth left wet kisses on your chest. Her tongue circled your nipples as one of her hands made its way to the seam of your pajama pants and panties, which stood completely soaked in arousal.

“Abby.” you cried out when her fingers caressed you from over the lace of your underwear, chuckling at the wetness of them.

“You are so wet for me already, such a good girl…” you almost whimpered, your cheeks blushing at the praise, something that didn’t go unnoticed. “You liked that, hm? Like to be my good little girl?” you nodded, your legs shaking when she finally pushed down your underwear and pjs to touch you. You gasped when her rough and thick fingers pressed against your core, sliding through your folds, pooled in your arousal. “So fucking wet.” she cursed as she circled your clit, making you moan. Her touch was electrifying. “Is all of this for me?” you once again nodded. “I need to hear your pretty voice. Speak up for me, sweetheart.”

“Yes… It’s all for you.” you managed to sputter out.

“Mmh…” she hummed happily with the answer, smirking when you let out a loud moan as she pushed her middle finger inside of you, instantly hitting that spongy spot that could make you come over and over again. “Then I guess that if it’s all for me… I could have a taste. Isn’t that right?” your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you suddenly felt her tongue around your clit at the same time as she thrusted her finger in and out of you, slowly enough to have you gripping at her hair and bucking your hips in search of more.

She complied, starting to eat you out like a woman starved. And she kind of was, having been craving you for years and years… She craved you, needed you so badly that her composure had plummeted once you’ve told her that Ellie had touched you, kissed you, tasted you first…

She wanted you. Wanted you to be solely and completely hers.

“Ah, Abby, shit…” you were so sensitive. More than usually. Was it because Abby was too good at eating you out or because it was Abby who was eating you out?

“Louder, baby. I need you to be louder for me.” she said before going back to you, her tongue lapping up at your juices and adding another finger. Their thickness made you cry out her name loud enough for the whole floor to hear. You just hoped that there was no teacher doing the check-ins that night or you’d be screwed.

“Abby, I’m… I’m gonna…” your grip tightened on her hair.

“You’re gonna come? Gonna come on my face, hm?” she curved her fingers upwards, relentlessly hitting your g spot over and over again, pulling you closer to your orgasm. “Go ahead, come for me. Let me have it.”

She didn’t need to say it twice. With her tongue back circling your clit, you moaned as you came, harsh, on her tongue, her helping you to extend you climax by thrusting in and out her fingers whilst lapping at your release, drinking everything you had to offer in between moans and hums.

When she let go of you, licking her two fingers clean, you were a flustered mess; with your hair sticking everywhere, red cheeks, swollen lips and glossy eyes. And she wasn’t that different from you, with her chin and red puffy lips shiny with your juices, her cheeks were flushed and her hair a beautiful blonde mess that you had created in between tugs and caresses. She looked beautiful, so beautiful that you couldn’t help dragging her towards you to taste yourself off of her lips, one of your hands finding her aching pussy, soaking her panties. She groaned in your mouth, pulling from your hair to part ways.

“Abby…” you cried out, your eyes half-lidded with need, your pussy aching for her.

“What is it, hm?” oh but she already knew… “Haven’t you had enough already? I gave you my fingers and my mouth, is that not enough for you? What a needy slut…” you moaned at her harsh tone and degradation, the contrast with the recent praise making your skin burn and your body cry for her. You needed her so badly… So much that you swore you could die. “Want me to fuck you, hm? Want me to make you cum all over my cock? Have you all brainless as I use you?”

“Yes please Abby, please, I want it.”

“So pretty begging for me, do you want it that bad?” you nodded, squirming under her touch and whimpering when she gave your thigh a harsh slap. “Can’t hear you, beautiful.”

“Yes.” you cried out, loving how harsh she was treating you, loving the idea that she would use you just for her pleasure.

“Then say it. Beg me to fuck you.” another spank.

“Please Abby, I want you to make me cum all over your cock, please, please, please… I need it. I need you.” tears swelled in your eyes as you stuttered.

“Good girl. Wasn’t that hard, was it?” she said with a smirk, quickly shoving his sweats and underwear down her thighs to discard them aside and reach out for her drawers, pulling out her strap. You almost choked at the size. You couldn’t take that.

It was huge. So thick and large that you knew that she’d tear you apart, stretch you out so good that would leave you sobbing and drooling against her pillow as she fucked into you over and over again.

“What? Bigger than William’s?” she teased you as she towered over you, strapping it to her waist. You would have answered if you weren’t too focused on the pink of its head and on the veins of its sides. On her pussy too. “You’re staring, pretty girl.” you blushed, looking away and into her eyes.

“Shut the fuck up and fuck me, Abby.” you snapped, and she groaned, once again pinning you underneath her and kissing you feverishly. You parted your legs for her to position herself in between them.

“There it is. That fucking mouth of yours. How about I fuck the attitude out of you, hm?” you gasped on her mouth when you felt the head of the strap play with your cunt, slowly dragging up and down in between your slicked folds to lube it up, teasing you at your entrance, pushing just the slightest against it. You were so fucking wet… More than you had ever been before.

“Fuck Abby, please…” you whimpered, your hips thrusting against the tip of her cock. You needed it inside.

Your nails found her back as she finally, after hearing your pleads and begging, aligned herself and started to push the tip of her cock inside, leaving you breathless at the stretch.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” she hushed you as you whimpered with every inch. “You are gonna do good for me, isn't that right baby? You are gonna take it, gonna take my cock and cum on it over and over again, right?” you nodded, sinking your nails deeper in her skin, deep enough to make her bleed. But Abby didn’t care, ‘cause she was finally making you hers, and you were so goddamn tight she was losing her mind. She couldn’t even pull backwards at the clenching of your walls.

You were crying of pleasure and due to the overwhelming sensation of her huge cock when she finally had settled herself fully inside, the tip reaching places you’d never dreamed of, the girth stretching your walls so good it was almost painful. Almost.

"Fuck. Look at you. Already crying and I haven't begun to fuck you yet.” you moaned when she started to slowly fuck into you, so deep that you were going crazy. You needed more, so much more. “Shit, you’re so fucking wet.”

“More. Please Abby, more.” you called out for her, your whimpers filling the room more and more as she started to move faster and faster.

“Yeah, that’s right. Fucking take it.” she groaned, lost on how good you felt. She never wanted to leave. Never wanted to stop feeling you this close. “Such a good girl.”

You moaned, your eyes turning white at the pleasure. This was like nothing you had experienced before.

“Tell me, did Williams fucked you this good, huh?” she asked, taking your cheeks with her right hand as she rolled your clit with her left to make you look at her. “Did she make you drool? Made you cry?”

You shook your head, but she wasn’t happy with that.

“Say it. Say that no one’s has fucked you like me. Say it, baby. Use that pretty mouth of yours.”

“No one has ever… ever fucked me like you.” you somehow achieved to say in between moans and gasps.

“That’s right. Look at you, your pussy is taking me so good… Sucking me in as if you don’t want me to leave.”

Suddenly you were in all fours, your chest against the mattress as she pounded inside of you harder and harder, so hard that you could feel her in your cervix, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” you cried out, drooling on her pillow, tears spilling due to how good she was making you feel.

Her hands found your hips, pulling you against her hips with every hard thrust, leaving you breathless.

You were a babbling and moaning mess, incapable to form any words, even her name.

“Look at you, so cock drunk you can’t even speak.” she said, and moaned when the strap rubbed perfectly her puffy clit. “Such a slut.” you whimpered when she gave you a harsh slap on your ass, her eyes focusing on how her dick disappeared in and out of your pussy, which now seemed to be molding around her and just her.

“Abby…” you dragged the ‘y’ as she sped up, fucking you brainless, calling her name over and over again.

She could feel the way you started to clench around the silicone. The wet noises of your juices and her thrusts filled the room with your high pitched moans. You were close. So fucking close…

“Abby, I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna…” your voice was so fucked up due to your screams that you swore you’d have a sore throat tomorrow morning, but you didn’t care.

“That’s alright sweetheart. Why don’t you come all over my dick, hm? Let me see you fall apart.” and you did. You came so hard you saw stars, your ears ringing as you squirted all over her bed sheets. “Fuck, good girl. Good. fucking. girl.” she groaned at the sight of your cunt gushing around her whole cock.

You were an incoherent mess as you came over and over again, drooling on her pillow and throwing her over the edge with a ‘fuck’.

And maybe and just maybe, you stopped hating Abby that much from now on.

‘Cause we all know what they say… From hatred to love there is only one step.

-

a/n; i hoped y’all liked this college abby!! love you!!!!🩵

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<33333

[sttoru]

♯ 𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊.

⟣ sypnosis. kento has been extremely busy lately, going on business trips and so forth. he decides to surprise you by coming back earlier than expected. that’s how you end up finding your lover on top of you, showering you in his affection at 3 in the morning.

⟣ tags. nanami kento x female reader. fluff, bit of angst, suggestive towards the end. reader gets called 'sweetheart, angel, dear' wc: 1.8k

⟣ note. okayokay finally an adition to my event heheh ive almost forgotten about it but then i saw this prompt & was like . ok nanami , i must write this rnnn no delaying anymore so here i am :3 its also very bad. i hate it sm LOL i hope u at least like it t_t

kento often asks himself why he had returned to the world he despised — the jujutsu society; his old high school. the sprawling curses everywhere are the main cause of his current misery.

he had been sent out on missions left and right, not catching a break in hopes of reducing any more civilian causalities than necessary. kento had even thought that maybe his previous 9-5 job wasn’t as bad as he had considered it.

overtime was every day for the sorcerer now. that wasn’t the worst thing - no - the fact that he was pratically living a long distant relationship with his beloved irritated him most.

a thought he had in his high school days reoccured in a moment of distress: ‘why not leave all those missions to gojo?’

you were still pretty understanding of his situation. kento appreciated that, though the guilt still ate away at him whenever he tried to sleep. an empty bed welcomed him each time he re-entered his hotel room — you saw the exact same scenery when returning home to your shared apartment.

both of you were adults; both knowing that life was unfair. the two of you being unable to see each other from time to time was a part of your life. kento and you still maintained a healthy relationship. that was all that really mattered in the end.

11:49PM. . . tonight wasn’t unlike any other night; you were preparing yourself to go to bed—changing into your pyjamas after showering, snuggling to a pillow under the covers and texting your lover one last message.

‘good luck on your mission as always! stay safe, i love you.’

you stare at your phone screen for a minute longer than intended. even if you tried to be mature about it — you longed for kento’s warmth and undivided attention. you want him with you, his strong arms holding you to his chest as you rest, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine in the best way possible.

you sigh defeatedly and put your phone down on your nightstand. just two days until you could see your partner again. you can hold onto that hope to keep you calm.

despite you trying to stay positive, you tossed and turned in your bed as you thought about kento’s safety. there was always a chance of him not coming home to you — always the possibility of that bed to be empty for the rest of your life.

all you could do was pray for his safety in your head whilst your eyes eventually closed from fatigue, your mind drifting off to a deep slumber.

03:14AM. . . kento opens the door he had wished to have opened way earlier. the door that lead to the place where his heart lays; the person who claimed his heart and soul for eternity. you.

he didn’t think he’d actually do it. kento had originally planned to finish his last job as soon as possible and then get home afterwards, but there seemed to be a change in routine.

the special grade sorcerer simply assigned the mission to ino — the person whom he could trust most to finish the job in one piece. as much as kento dislikes to put his juniors in possible risky situations, there are also situations where it’s fine to depend on them. besides, the mission could easily be done by a grade one sorcerer.

kento sighs. the familiar scent of your home was one he could recognise from miles away. one that could calm his nerves instantly. it was that same distinctive scent you carry; thus why your lover sometimes calls you his home.

‘i can’t wait to be home’ ‘i want to be home’ ‘i’m going home’ — all these sentences, which kento has uttered before in earlier conversations, weren’t referring to a place. rather to a person he held dear.

“oh, my sweetheart.” the blonde man whispers under his breath as his eyes catch the shape of your figure under the blankets. he quietly enters the master bedroom and closes the door behind him, not making a sound as to not interrupt your well-deserved sleep.

kento slowly undoes his dotted tie, along with the upper buttons of his blouse. he probably needs to go take a good shower before he could settle down with you — but that’d risk waking you up.

you look extremely angelic in his eyes. especially with your left cheek squished by the soft pillow your head rests on. you never once fail to convince him that you are indeed the woman of his dreams; the woman kento ever had and will have eyes for. it’s like you get more attractive to him as the days go on.

“mh,” your sudden and soft groan makes him realise just how disturbing his behaviour could be interpreted as. kento’s body was hovering over your sleeping one and he was just. . . staring at you with a soft smile. a smile which he didn’t even notice had permanently found its place on his weary face.

kento sits down on the edge of the mattress, callused hand gently tucking you in properly, putting the blanket over your shoulders to make sure you didn’t get cold. he can’t rest if you’re not comfortable— even if he himself was exhausted to the point his eyes were starting to feel heavy.

yet that exhaustion doesn’t last long. it never does when kento’s able to see you again after a tiring week of countless missions and other jobs. your presence alone grants him the energy to stay awake and take care of you. and himself. you’re the reason he keeps it going.

“i love you so much, my beautiful girl — my angel.”

kento sure was a romantic. even when you’re unaware and asleep.

he couldn’t help it; the feeling stirring inside of him. the feeling of adoration and love for you. you are simply resting, yet kento felt an urge to kiss you all over, show you the unending love he has for you. but. . that’d probably be disturbing your peace. you are sleeping after all. he

not that that would stop kento.

your eyes flutter open due to a sudden presence hovering over you. your entire face and neck area was feeling ticklish, like someone was placing tens of kisses all over the skin.

strands of blonde hair is the first thing showing up in your blurry vision. kento’s face follows afterwards as his head tilts back up, the warmth against your jawline disappearing along with it —

“ah, i’m sorry.” a low and almost guilty chuckle tumbles out of his sore throat. the visible confusion on your face makes him let out another, “shh, shh, it’s just me, sweetheart.”

your arms flew around kento’s torso the second the realisation dawns upon you. your heart went from a slow pace to one that caused your entire body to warm up immediately; the adorable reaction and increase in heart rate not going unnoticed by your lover.

you wordlessly hug him — almost still in shock by the sudden appearance. kento doesn’t fight off your tight embrace, instead, welcomes it with open arms. the delicate kisses on your skin continue, each being placed with precision whilst one of his hands keeps your head tilted a little — rough fingers being a contrast of the gentle grip they had on your jaw.

“i missed you lots,” kento murmurs, eyes closed as he basks in the warmth of your body, his lips refusing to let go of your neck, “i couldn’t wait anymore. i couldn’t be separated from you any longer or i’d lose it.”

his gruff voice sounded even deeper than it usually would. maybe due to the overuse of it during his missions. the lone thought makes you pout — the thought of kento working super hard just to provide for you both.

“i missed you more, love.” you mumble, bottom lip trembling a little as kento’s hug triggers a whole lot of emotions in you. his hugs were special, his muscular arms giving you a sense of comfort you couldn’t find anywhere. no one could hug you like he did, “you did well. you did so well.”

those were all the words kento needed. his lips come to halt right above your collarbone, his breath a bit heavy from how much he's holding himself back from doing more. one hand moves from your cheek to your waist, fingers toying with the fabric of your shirt.

“thank you, dear.” kento says. his words carrying a load of unending affection. your simple words of appreciation and encouragement makes him shiver in delight. this is what he longed for; this is what he did it all for.

it was clear. the answer to his question - of why he had returned to the jujutsu world, to become a teacher at his former high school - it was all for you. to be able to be with you, see you and hold you like this. to have someone like you appreciate all of his efforts.

“may i?” kento asks through a quiet whisper as he gently removes the blanket covering your figure, his eyes darting down towards your cleavage. he's asking for permission to cross that barrier — to cover you in the love you deserve.

you just stare at the blonde man above you for a second. you watch as he climbs onto the bed with you; the bed which was once empty and dull, now suddenly becoming your favourite place to be at. your fingertips graze against kento's sharp cheekbones. a habit you always did when you were appreciating his looks.

“go right ahead.” you answer with a confirming nod.

both of you were touch starved and had been deprived from each other's embrace for way too long. now was the perfect time to make up for all the time lost.

kento wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip past him. he smiles at you, a gentle and handsome smile, whilst a few of his blonde locks fall over his left eye — his hands already prying away the blanket covering your shape. it was time to show you just how much he has longed for you.

“hold on to me, sweetheart. i’m not stopping until you realise just how much i’ve missed all of you.”

[fastandcarlos]

Mr Steal Your Girl » Lando Norris ft. Charles LeClerc

summary: the little sister of the leclerc’s catches plenty of attention, but what happens when she particularly catches the attention of a man in papaya

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 349,281 comments

ynleclerc: another week of travelling round the world pretending to be the most popular member of the leclerc family ❤️

42,291 comments

username1: you’ll always be the best leclerc sibling imo 🥰

username2: oh to be able to travel around with those three handsome faces

carlossainz55: lovely to see you y/n, same time next week?

ynleclerc: @/carlossainz55 you know charles won’t let me miss a race 😂

username3: you’re the most popular leclerc to me!!

arthur_leclerc: are we just going to pretend I wasn’t racing too? 😭

ynleclerc: @/arthur_leclerc what’s to say this is my only post about this weekend 🤔

username4: you must be such a proud sister y/n!

landonorris: you’ll be my favourite if you convince charles to let me win 😉

username5: lando wtf

username6: is lando tryna impress a leclerc 🤯

charles_leclerc: you always manage to find the most flattering photos of me 😂❤️

alexandrasaintmleux: don’t tell charles but you’re secretly my number one 🤐

ynleclerc/ @/alexandrasaintmleux secret is safe with me 🥰🥺

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, arthur_leclerc and 428,903 others

ynleclerc: a few snippets of yet another week with my fave trio ☺️

42,328 comments

username7: I just want to be part of the family too 😭

oscarpiastri: you seem to have forgotten your favourite brother…

ynleclerc: @/oscarpiastri dedicated post to my fave brother coming up 😂

username8: it’s not fair for one family to have so many good genes

landonorris: you guys are a bit cute 🌸

ynleclerc: @/landonorris we try our best 😇

username9: charles does not look like he wants to be part of these photos at all 😂😂

arthur_leclerc: number one spot belongs to me 🤔

ynleclerc: @/arthur_leclerc whatever helps you sleep at night bro

username10: are we all just going to ignore lando in the comments again

username11: protective brother mode incoming…

pierregasly: stop feeding all your brothers’ fans with these kinda photos y/n!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 1,392,340 others

landonorris: thank you montreal for a lovely week, a wholesome week doing my favourite things 🌸🏎️

88,321 comments

username12: isn’t that the same emoji he posted on y/n’s post yesterday

username13: move the glass lando!!

alex_albon: something you want to tell me norris 🤔

georgerussell63: well the last photo is a bit of a surprise huh

username14: soft boyfriend lando is back ladies and gentleman

username15: petition for a face reveal asap

ynleclerc: that’s a big smile you’ve got there ☺️

landonorris: @/ynleclerc I just seem to be around someone who makes me pretty happy right now

username16: @/charles_leclerc @/arthur_leclerc come get your sister pls

username17: don’t say it…don’t say it…I think lando and y/n are dating

charles_leclerc: why are so many people sending me this post, what’s going on here sir?

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ybffusername, arthur_leclerc and 428,003 others

ynleclerc: the best week with you! 💕🥺

63,291 comments

username18: more pretty pink flowers omg

arthur_leclerc: idk where in the world you are but I expect you back at my house asap

ynleclerc: @/arthur_leclerc im not a child anymore fyi 🙃

username19: no one can convince me that this isn’t lando

username20: all the signs point to a certain tanned brit 🤯🤯🤯

charles_leclerc: is this how you tell your brother that you’re with a boy, I refuse to accept this until you let me tell whoever they are exactly what I expect of them

username21: @/charles_leclerc luckily for you you’ll be seeing lando on thursday

oscarpiastri: I second what charles said, as your brother I expected better than this 😡

ynleclerc: @/oscarpiastri don’t you start as well

username22: if this is true…they might just be the cutest couple in the world

landonorris: 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 539,403 others

ynusername: I can be a mclaren girl for a week…right? 🏎️🧡

43,829 others

landonorris: you can be a mclaren girl every week as far as I’m concerned 🥰🤩

ynleclerc: @/landonorris my brothers aren’t happy that you’ve stolen me just so you know

landonorris: @/ynleclerc just call me mr steal your girl 🥰

username23: patiently waiting for charles to appear

username24: don’t tell your brothers, but papaya suits you more y/n 🧡

oscarpiastri: nice of you to come to the better team and support the better brother 😂

username25: y/n avoiding the ferrari garage for the foreseeable

charles_leclerc: um no…you’re a leclerc therefore you cheer for ferrari

ynleclerc: @/charles_leclerc I can support two teams, right?

charles_leclerc: @/ynleclerc no you cannot, why do you even want to support mclaren anyway?

ynleclerc: @/charles_leclerc I think you might no why 😝

username26: charles’ heart secretly breaking as his sister slips away

username27: preparing for lando to tease charles for the rest of his life

danielricciardo: you’re a brave girl…very brave

arthur_leclerc: we’ll be having words little sister

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, carlossainz55 and 1,392,507 others

landonorris: live footage of charles leclerc officially welcoming me to the family 😂🏆

104,228 comments

arthur_leclerc: congrats on the podium finish lando…charles might welcome you, but I’m the tougher brother 😂

landonorris: @/arthur_leclerc I already know that you adore me 🥺

username28: you just know charles is giving lando the sternest warning of his life

username29: are we potentially seeing a new bromance??

ynleclerc: charles told me what he said to you…I’m so sorry 😂

landonorris: @/charles_leclerc don’t worry love, I’ll take the rant if it means being with you 🧡

username30: charles tryna act all protective when deep down he’s the soppiest brother ever

username31: can’t wait to see endless interactions between lando and the leclercs

username32: @/username31 don’t forget brother piastri too

charles_leclerc: you’ve not got the seal of approval just yet norris…👀

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by georgerussell63, alex_albon and 493,017 others

ynusername: my brothers keep asking me what I see in lando…I’m hoping this post will shut them up ☺️

58,201 comments

charles_leclerc: nothing will ever make this make sense to me 🙄

alexandrasaintmleux: @/charles_leclerc that’s not true, @/ynleclerc you should’ve heard him gushing about lando last night

charles_leclerc: @/alexandrasaintmleux I thought you loved me…that was between us 😡

ynleclerc: @/alexandrasaintmleux I knew I could rely on you for the truth 💕

username33: please just keep posting more and more boyfriend lando y/n

username34: thank you for feeding us fans what we want

alex_albon: well this is a little bit cute 🤩🩷

landonorris: thank you for finding all my best angles 🥰🧡

username35: how can anyone resist that smile??

arthur_leclerc: stop guilting us into public acceptance 😂

ynleclerc: @/arthur_leclerc idk what you’re talking about 😂

username36: the leclercs are officially my favourite family ever

oscarpiastri: if it counts for anything - I approve ☺️

ynleclerc: @/oscarpiastri fave brother 🏆✅

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 732,049 others

ynusername: a girl can have more than one favourite can’t she ❤️🧡

84,030 comments

username37: imagine having four people in your life who adore you as much as these guys adore y/n

username38: it’s the all white coordination for me

carla.brocker: I thought that I was your fave 💔

ynleclerc: @/carla.brocker you are…it’s top secret

username39: I don’t think my heart can take anymore

arthur_leclerc: I guess we all just love you so much 😂

username40: the photo with charles omg

charles_leclerc: what can I say? I adore you little sis ❤️🥰

username41: the love between y/n and charles and lando is the sweetest

landonorris: I’ll happily be one of your favourites if it means getting to spend the rest of my life with you 🌸🧡

arthur_leclerc: @/landonorris 🤮🤮

ynleclerc: @/landonorris I can’t wait for forever with you!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, danielricciardo and 1,492,503 others

landonorris: officially stole your girl…

104,852 comments

charles_leclerc: I will never let you truly steal my little sister 😡

username42: you just can’t help yourself lando 😂

username43: waiting for the day a leclerc knocks lando out lmao

arthur_leclerc: sharing is caring lando norris!

ynleclerc: @/arthur_leclerc im a human not a pizza fyi 🙄

oscarpiastri: you really weren’t lying…mr steal your girl 👏🏻

username44: secretly charles is seething seeing this

alex_albon: that first photo looks like you’ve just been caught out by charles 😂

username45: still my favourite leclerc in the world 🌍

danielricciardo: congrats on cracking the leclercs!!

ynleclerc: you’re lucky I (and my brothers) love you so much 🧡 thank you for the best holiday 🌸

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

 ˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[ozzgin]

A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

[Part 2] | [More original works]

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”