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yourfavoritehouseplant · 5 months

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I watched James Somerton's final video, and all I got was this 6 page document

As soon as I learned his final unreleased video was on Revolutionary Girl Utena, I knew I had to hate watch it. I didn't know that I'd spend the following 4 hours making a comprehensive doc on everything I hated about it. But here we are.

The TLDR (is this too long to be a TLDR?)

The intro section, as well as Part 2, are directly plagiarized from wikipedia. The rest is unclear.

He makes a “haha this show is so weird right guys” joke 10 different times

He reads Anthy as so emotionally stunted she literally has to be taught how to think for herself, and believes that being the rose bride makes her feel good

He says that his reading is ‘vastly different” from the rest of the community, before boldly stating that this is because he sees it as a “deeply allegorical and symbolic story”

He sees the sexual abuse as “not to be taken literally”

Insists that the show be separated into parts that are strictly literal and strictly allegorical for the entirety of parts 3 and 4, before making the contradictory move of analyzing characters as allegories during part 5

The only characters that get dedicated sections are Akio and Dios, who he doesn’t believe are the same person.

He says Dios gets his powers by “deflowering women”

He calls Akio, known child predator, a chaotic bisexual

Uses 14 year old SA survivor Anthy’s passive personality to make a joke about her being a bottom

His final point is that Utena was the real prince all along

There are no citations

Anyway, full version for people who hate themselves under the cut. With time codes, because I cite my sources.

Part 1: Intro

This entire section is almost exclusively quoted from the Wikipedia article for Revolutionary Girl Utena. Words have been changed, but the order at which certain topics come up is not. Highlights include:

0:56 In his introduction of Be-Papas, lists the founding members in literally the exact same order as Wikipedia.

1:40-2:00 His list of Be-Papas previous works is lifted entirely from wikipedia, only with the words changed. This leads to a strange moment at 1:52 where he claims Be-papas ‘lent their talents to’ Neon Genesis Evangelion, a show which started production at least a year before Be-papas was founded. On the wikipedia article for Utena, this is instead referring to the previous work of Shinya Hasegawa and Yōji Enokido

4:23 he uses a quote by Yūichirō Oguro describing the production as a “tug of war”. He seems to have lifted this in its entirety from Wikipedia, as he does not cite the actual source it is from (the box set companion book, btw)

As for James Somerton originals, at 0:44 he claims that out of all magical girl series,”none to my knowledge have been more discussed and dissected than the 1997 series Revolutionary Girl Utena” He will go back on this at 5:05, where he states that “Sailor Moon takes the lion’s share of discussion” in regard to influential magical girl anime

Part 2: Part 1

(At least I know I’m not funny, unlike James Somerton)

Speaking of which. Here is every single time he makes a “wow this show is sooooo weird you guys” joke: 6:00, 8:50, 10:40, 10:58, 13:46, 17:07, 24:16, 30:34, 41:19, 48:01

Here’s every time the punchline to the joke is the existence of Nanami, a character who he otherwise completely disregards: 10:56, 12:05, 16:22, 42:40

6:16 Claims that the “Apocalypse saga” and “Akio Ohtori saga’ are two names for the same several episodes, depending on the release. This is untrue. Instead, different releases either only have the Apocalypse saga, or split the episodes into an Akio Ohtori saga and then the Apocalypse saga.

7:58 Claims Utena intervening on Anthy’s behalf begins the first duel. While this happens in the movie, Touga intervenes in the scene he uses clips from (like literally right after the shot he uses in the video). Utena only gets drawn into the duels when Wakaba’s love note to Saionji is posted. Youtuber Noralities’ Utena video also gets this wrong, which makes me wonder if this was copied.

9:09 Claims Akio’s “End of the World” moniker is actually more closely translated to “Apocalypse”. In reality, the translation moves away from a more apocalyptic reading, with 世界の果て (Sekai no hate) apparently translating closer to “the furthest reach of a known world” or “edge of the world”. (Love the implications of this translation, but I digress)

9:10 As can be assumed from the previous point, this means I can’t find any sources that point to them not using the title “apocalypse” for religious reasons

10:10 Uses Anthy’s extreme passivity under her Rose bride persona to make a top/bottom joke. I’m gonna repeat this in case you’re just skimming. He uses a trait that likely stems from years of abuse, (possibly exaggerated by the persona Anthy uses to manipulate people), and uses it to call her a bottom.

He also just doesn’t seem to understand how the whole point of Utena constantly telling Anthy that she's just a normal girl who should make more friends is framed as Utena imposing her will on Anthy, just as much as the previous Engaged have done.

11:54 Apologies in advance for my most “um, actually!” point yet, but technically his statement that Anthy stops being host to the Sword of Dios is wrong. Akio literally pulls a sword out of her chest in the final duel. It's a more evil-looking sword of Dios, granted.

13:02 !!! CANTARELLA SCENE ALERT !!! He interprets it as them fighting over Akio?? Which like. I will allow people to have their own interpretations of vague and symbolic scenes. I will. I swear. This is not technically incorrect. It just makes me want to eat my own intestines.

14:44 Bad Anthy take #1: He states Anthy “is emotionally stunted to the point where she needs people to make decisions for her because she does not know how to think for herself” This ignores several moments of Anthy clearly making her own choices throughout the show, including the suicide attempt Somerton mentions about a minute prior. This also strips Anthy of what little agency she has throughout the story, usually exerted through messing with Utena or Nanami. (The fact that she repeatedly makes choices that contribute to her own abuse is, in my opinion, one of the most interesting parts of her character, and it's a shame that Summerton’s ‘reading’ of the story completely disregards that)

Additionally, he once again reads Utena ‘urging Anthy to think for herself” in the first arc as an unambiguously good move, and not as something critiqued in the show.

14:52 Summerton reads the Swords of hatred as symbolizing men’s hatred specifically. Again, I’m trying not to completely disregard differing interpretations to a show like Utena, but this feels very simplistic, especially considering the harm we see aimed towards Anthy by other women

16:42 Here he claims that his reading of the story seems to be “vastly different” from the bulk of Utena discourse. What is this reading? That the show shouldn’t be read literally. Or, in his words, “[we can interpret] Revolutionary Girl Utena as a deeply allegorical and symbolic story about the struggles of coming of age amidst widespread institutional corruption in a high school and which describes a passive culture of inaction in regard to brazen instances of domestic exploitation in which there is not only a question about the caporeality of the events transpiring but also which events can be taken for granted and which events are meant to signify abstract sociological institutions.” The idea that he believes this is in any way a new reading of the material honestly baffles me.

Part 3: Part 2

17:48 through 18:50 differently quotes the Wikipedia article for postmodernism. He even makes a joke at 17:55 about Wikipedia. Please kill me.

The first three themes he lists at 19:11 are just the three main themes listed on the Revolutionary Girl Utena Wikipedia page. What was that about a “vastly different” reading, James?

You’re gonna have to take my word for it, but this section is so short because it's just him talking about the various ways the story can’t be taken literally. He does, ironically, call this a hot take.

Part 4: Part 3

Here’s where the reading falls apart folks

At 23:15, he states that some things in Utena are allegorically coded, while others are to be taken literally. This is true. However, he seems to take this to mean that some parts of the show are Strictly Literal, while others are Strictly Allegorical for things going on in the Literal World.

This is apparently why he prefers the Anime to the Movie, where there basically is no separation between the Literal and Allegorical

This take is bizarre to me for several reasons, but here is my favorite. At several points, he mentions how Revolutionary Girl Utena is a work of Magical Realism. Magical Realism is literally defined by its blending of the “literal” and “allegorical”, the mix of fantastical elements in a mundane, realistic setting. This idea of the impossibility of a blurred line, that Utena must either have lore where the magic is all real and means nothing, or dedicated allegory segments quarantined from the rest of the story, is contrary to the very idea of Magical Realism.

I can’t help but wonder if Somerton took his mentions of Magical realism from a previous work, due to how little it is consistent with his final argument. Either way, this section suggests a great lack of creativity in his analysis, a shame for such a creative work.

24:36: Shiori slander, for those who care

After this he gets really worked up about people assuming symbolism in everything, even when the author ‘doesn’t make it clear something is symbolic’. He shuts down a reading of a shot in the Lord of the Rings. Miley Cyrus is there? Very The Curtains Were Blue of him.

28:22 Claims that Wakaba is the key to telling where the Strictly Literal segments end and the Strictly Allegorical segments begin. He states that, under this lens, deeply personal moments of character suffering such as all of the sexual abuse and Anthy’s suicide attempt (which he literally cites) should be read as symbolic and be “approached with uncertainty rather than confusion”. (28:24-29:13)

This also somewhat falls apart when you consider Wakaba is the jeep in the movie's car chase

And then he rants about people not liking his Attack on Titan video for a bit. Since its potential symbolism also doesn't follow hard enough rules to be symbolism. Once again, the separation of “fact vs allegory” I haven’t watched AOT, so that's all I’ll say.

Part 5: Part 4

Thank god this part is short. Much like Dios’ on-screen presence.

32:55 Makes the extremely bold claim that Dios is not Akio. As in, never even became Akio. because Dios is Strictly Allegorical.

Just to be a pedant, this is pretty explicitly disproven in the show

Confusingly, both earlier and later he will address these two as the same character.

33:04 he also explains the root of Akio’s name in a tone that suggests this is supplemental information and not like. Literally something he explains out loud in the show?

Part 6: Part 5

This section is nearly entirely about Akio Ohtori. I would like to note that him and Dios are the only characters with dedicated segments.

38:30 The part where he states that Dios gets his powers from deflowering women.

38:46 Claims, once again, that Akio’s abuse of Anthy “may not be literal”.

38:59 “the instance of exploitation here is used because assault has deep roots as indicating that akio's gender is the source of his imbalance” THE ASSAULT IS ABOUT AKIO NOW???

39:45 Bad Anthy take #2: “Anthy’s conformity to the Rose bride is based around the fact that she feels good being subservient because this is the only thing in her life that has ever brought her any kind of positive reward”. This is a direct quote. Anyway, I can’t think of any instances in the show where Anthy’s subservience gives her a positive reward, except maybe when she’s intentionally using it to manipulate others. As for her feeling good being the rose bride. She tries to commit suicide. Dude.

Side tangent, but isn’t this exactly what Akio says during the final 2 episodes? That Anthy enjoys being a witch? Is the main villain, who consistently says things during that very episode that are blatantly false, our source of information for this take? I guess so, since this is the dedicated Akio section.

At 40:20 he decides to introduce the concept of Anthy, Akio, and Utena as stand-ins for wider concepts, which is antithetical to his approach in analysis beforehand

Part 7: Part 6

42:40 he finally acknowledges that he’s been spending too much time talking about Akio, and literally no time on characters like Nanami

46:10 states that Utena’s exclusive motivation “is to protect Anthy from the predatorial intentions of the other dualists”, which disregards the fact, which she states herself, that she was largely participating in the duels and protecting Anthy to feel like a prince

48:04 The part where he says that Akio has ‘chaotic Bi vibes’ in regards to him sleeping with Touga, who is 17 and implied to be a long-term victim

Part 8: Part 7

54:01: His concluding point is that Utena was the real prince all along.

In true Somerton fashion, the video then ends over a scrolling wall of patrons, with not a single citation in sight.

#the autism won again you guys #revolutionary girl utena #james somerton #shoujo kakumei utena #utena #anthy #hbomberguy

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mutfruit-salad · 14 days

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Long post ahead. My full thoughts on the fallout series. TW for references to Sexual Assault, racism, antisemitism. It's not particularly in depth here- but I do reference specific acts of violence done in the show.

I've had people insinuate I'm only mad because I'm a New Vegas fan, because I think they retconned the lore. I'm not upset at the fallout show for its dubious lore additions and reworks. I think they're quite bad in places, but they're by far the least of the show's problems.

This isn't a case of a New Vegas fan mad they messed with my game in a way I didn't like.

Please refer to literally any of my posts pointing out the racism and antisemitism in the show. They brand a black man in episode 1. They named the enclave scientist after a real life holocaust survivor and then spent most of the show lobbing around his decapitated head like a volleyball.

But I'd like to consider other elements of the show. View it as a whole.

Consider the inherent misogyny of having a female main character whose entire character arc is just her getting abused for 8 episodes. How the trajectory of her character revolves around not giving up on the humanity of the man who waterboarded her and sold her to organ harvesters. A female main character who is raped in the first episode and watches her entire community get brutalized and who comes out of it completely unphased- still as plucky as ever- just worried about her dad.

Consider the horror of having a black woman be the one to drop the bombs. Consider the horror of her leading a council of elites who have infiltrated and taken over the US government. Consider the ways this group is presented and shown, the ways every fault of the US government in the series is offloaded onto a shadowy group of elites.

Consider how the capitalist critique of the show only goes so far as saying there's a secret organization of bad people who must be purged. The antisemitism and conspiratorial nonsense inherent to that premise.

Consider the rampant classism with the show's depiction of Wastelanders as either animalistic monsters or too stupid to live.

Consider the ways the show punishes nearly every act of kindness- the ways the world rewards might-makes-right authoritarians.

Consider the way the NCR collapsed offscreen because a disgruntled husband was mad his wife left him, and how after it collapsed the army immediately became raiders and the survivors became blood drinking cultists. Don't give me "it's just shady sands that collapsed" because the NCR was a developed nation. If one of their cities blew up, they would send aid. They would assist.

Consider the way the show constantly uses sex crimes as comedy and horror- the incest jokes and the "chicken fucker" bit, and the Vault 4 monster impregnation and the main character's rape in the first episode.

Consider the ableism of the treatment of ghouls, how every ghoul is now a ticking time bomb, how Lucy helps free a small dementia-riddled old ghoul woman from a medical torture facility and then is immediately punished with the woman trying to inexplicably murder her. Thaddeus openly talks about ghoul exterminationism and it's never a joke or a bit- he just says it and nobody reacts or says anything.

Consider the way the Vault 33 town councillors use real world progressive talking points about restorative justice and prison abolition and multiculturalism- meanwhile Norm advocates for the death penalty and a closed society. How Norm is shown as good and righteous and the vault dwellers range from deluded to damningly stupid- how the mere concept of restorative justice is made a farce because the NCR raiders are screaming about eating organs and murdering people 24/7.

Consider the way they removed the Boneyard, and the Followers of the Apocalypse by extension. In New Vegas we heard about the Followers operating a university in LA. It's gone now. Not destroyed by bombs- but written out of existence because the Boneyard never existed, and Shady Sands is in its place. Consider what that says about this world- that the group most dedicated to peace and rebuilding has been surgically excised from the narrative- destroyed more wholly than even the NCR- written out of existence entirely.

This is the single most reactionary fallout story that has been produced. By a fucking country mile.

Whatever lore critiques there are should be secondary. The storytelling is reactionary in ways I straight up have not seen from other Bethesda entries in the series. It is cruel to a fault, and depicts a world that is incapable of healing or growing- where the best you can do is hold onto that small spark of goodness while every bit of the society around you tries to murder it out of you. This isn't a story about rebuilding, or about postwar politics, or about society- it's about dueling warlords and might makes right attitudes and grimdark views of the nature of humanity. It's fallout in aesthetics alone- and it's perhaps the most hateful thing I've seen come out of this series outside of the actual neonazis in the fanbase.

Whatever hope there is in Moldaver's final moments looking out over the glittering ruins of LA is undercut by the knowledge of what came before. What was destroyed. And it's undercut by the Brotherhood's totalitarian control. It's not hopeful, it's the bare minimum of survival. It's all the progress of the postwar world, 200 years of humanity and history, reduced to just barely getting the lights back on.

In the intro to fallout 1, "War Never Changes" is used as thematic glue. It ties together two concepts- past wars- and present capitalism and militarism.

Ron Perlman describes the Roman Empire, the Spanish conquests of the Americas, and the Nazi regime- and then he says "war never changes" and uses it to connect those past atrocities to the modern world of the setting- to the war that ended everything. The phrase existed to link the resource wars and their ensuing fallout to all the crimes of empire prior. War never changes wasn't a hard and fast rule of human nature- it was a specific condemnation of America.

Lonesome Road even ends with the phrase refuted. War Never Changes. But men do, through the roads they walk. There is hope. That's what this series has always been about. The Master died at the end of fallout 1 and said "leave while you still have hope."

In this show, the black woman Vault Tec exec who ends the world says the phrase. It's stripped of all meaning. Just a generic throwback because it's a famous phrase in the series' history. It's not a condemnation of America, it's a celebratory thing. Vault Tec toasting to the end of the world.

What a thing to see this series become. What a thing to see celebrated.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout show #this has gotten more feedback then I was expecting #and i'm glad this is resonating with some folks #turned off reblogs cuz i cant actually deal with the response this has been getting at this point 👍

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norrizzandpia · 8 months

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can we get pt 2 of 34+35 where yn releases nonsense or positions, everyone is more confused because are we talking about the same guy?? in response all yn does is mention his thighs 💀💀

YES MAAM OFC I LOVE THIS STORYLINE

WHO IS OSCAR PIASTRI? (OP81)

Summary: Oscar and Y/n always loved to mess with the fans. Fortunately, the best way to do that is spill their sex life.

Warnings: sexual conversations, language

Note: THE THIGHS 😫😫😫😫😫 SO MANY WORDS NOT ENOUGH TIME 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

ynnn Nonsense out now! 💋

Comments:

osc81fan I- WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

piaosc ARE WE SURE ALL OF US ARE TALKING ABT THE CORRECT MAN?

- mclarenpiaandlan YEAH WTF HOW IS THIS OSCAR

mclarensgirlll SHE DID THIS LAST TIME AND WE NEVER RECOVERED

- landonorris ILL NEVER RECOVER.

oscarpiastri ITS ABOUT MEEEEEEEE 🤭🤭

- danielricciardo we are aware.

- maxverstappen i think youve said that enough

- charlesleclerc YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE LITTLE OSCAR 😰😰😰

- ynnn definitely not LITTLE oscar 😏

- alexalbon STOP.

——

ynnn maybe i lied? Lookin’ at him doesn’t have me thinkin’ nonsense, it has me thinkin…

Comments:

oscarpiastri my girlfriend everyone 😀

- mclarensgirlll hes probably giggling at his phone at this very moment

- landonorris and youd be right!

maxverstappen IM SO SCARED FOR MY LIFE

- danielricciardo WE CANT ESCAPE IT

- alexalbon HE PLAYS THE SONGS EVERYWHERE

- landonorris IT NEVER ENDS.

ln4andop81 anyone else curious abt what shes going to say on that podcast next week where theyre infamous for asking abt sex????

- oscpastry i bet you oscar will forever be changed for us

- mclarensgirlll he already is 🥲

——

TWITTER

ln4andop81 IN HONOR OF 24 HOURS BEFORE Y/NS PODCAST EPISODE, DROP THE MOST SHOCKING LYRICS FROM NONSENSE DOWN BELOW

- oscpastry “you said you like my eyes and you like the make em roll” SOOOO BASICALLY WHEN WERE THOSE WORDS FALLING FROM OUR BABY’S LIPS????

- mclarenpiaandlan REAL BECAUSE HOW DOES HE EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT IS 😭😭

- mclarensgirlll I THINK THE LYRIC “opposite of soft” LET US KNOW HE IS WAYYYY MORE EXPERIENCED THAN WE THOUGHT

- piaosc DOM OSCAR????? FUCKING HOW. IN. WHAT. WORLD.

- ynnn this world! 💋

- piaosc IS THIS SOME SORT OF GAME???

- mclarenpiaandlan THE PATTERN IS PATTERNING

- mclarensgirlll ITS SO ICONIC MY BRAIN CANT HANDLE IT

——

TWITTER

ln4andop81 hows everyone doing after that podcast….

- mclarensgirlll “WHO IS OSCAR PIASTRI?” trending on twitter makes me feel less alone after listening to Y/n’s tell all

- mclarenpiaandlan host: “whats your favorite body part of oscar’s?” Y/n: “his thighs” BY THEN I ALREADY KNEW WHAT WAS COMING BUT THE HOST HAD TO KEEP GOING host: *giggling* “why?” Y/n: “10 out of 10 for riding” I THINK MY BRAIN WENT DEAD FOR A SEC

- piaosc GIRLY KEPT GOING TOO host: “did you ask or, like, how did that come about?” Y/n: “well, he was just kind of sitting there, manspread ya know, and he caught on the minute he saw the way i was looking at him. Ive never see him so excited before.” *laughing* “i think he enjoys it more than me!”

- ln4andop81 no words. Host: “so he knows you like his thighs?” Y/n: “Oh my god, yeah! I hate him for it but he purposefully wears his shortest pair of shorts around the house so when he sits, that’s all I see. I’m telling you, Oscar knows how much I love his body and he knows EXACTLY how to use it.” Host: “what do you mean?” Y/n: “just that the shirtless photo i posted of him is one of many and the rest of them could not be up on the internet for longer than 5 seconds before being taken down because they’re borderline all pornographic” OSCAR???? BABY BOY??? WHO ARE YOU.

- mclarensgirlll BRO AND THEN host: “your new song, Nonsense, mentions things being more rough than soft. Is that really true with him?” Y/n: “Are you kidding?! The fans who think he’s super innocent and pure are in for some serious whiplash when i say that he is anything but that. He’s not Oscar when we’re in bed. He’s some alter ego who has no problem fucking against a random wall.” UHHHHHHHHHHH RUE WHEN WAS THIS????

- oscarpiastri now THAT is one thing i wont be answering 😊

- ynnn knowing myself ill probably reveal it in some song in the future 🤦🏼‍♀️

- mclaren maybe try and hold off on that one plz bestie 😙

- landonorris ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^🙏🏻

- danielricciardo ^^

- alexalbon ^^^

- maxverstappen ^

- charlesleclerc ^^^^

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heyimkana · 7 months

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24 Hours with You (Satoru Ver.) - Ep. 1

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: The first episode of a mini-series where you’ll live through the hours you spend together with your husband, Gojo Satoru. Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader Genre: Domestic AU, Fluff, Romance, Smut, Humor Word Count: 8K Warnings: whipped, clingy husband!Satoru, sassy!Y/N, shoujo manga inspired backstory, endless sex jokes, and overall cavity-inducing fluff with a little bit of smut at the end (no actual sex scenes...yet)

Episode 1: Morning

06.02 AM

Your very much-needed sleep abruptly comes to an end the moment your husband’s alarm—not yours—begins to ring, his phone vibrating on the nightstand next to his side. You try to ignore it. You really do. After all, he just let you go to sleep three hours ago.

Granted, yesterday was Valentine’s Day and there was no way someone as insatiable as Gojo Satoru was going to end it with just one or two rounds of normal sex, especially not after he went out of his way, spending hundreds of bucks to buy you a set of lingerie that he’d been dying to see. He made sure to dress you up (you’re his favorite doll after all), his grin plastered ever so cheekily on his face. He held his phone steady in one hand, recording the way you not-so-gracefully stepped outside the bathroom in your new lingerie, dying out of shame because—“What the hell did you buy me?!” Which he casually replied with, “A bunny suit. Now turn around and let me see your tail.” To be honest, that wasn’t even the worst part.

(The worst part was when he said, “Now is my little bunny hungry for some carrots? ‘Cause I got a real nice and big carrot for you right over he—” He didn’t get to finish his line. You punched him.)

The alarm continues to ring, playing a song that you grow to hate more and more each day. “Ugh, turn it off.”

Satoru doesn’t even stir in his sleep, which comes as no surprise. He’s still lying flat on his stomach, facing you with his cheek drowning in the comfort of his pillow. He looks peaceful. Innocent. Even when his parted lips are still somewhat smeared with the color of your lipstick. And he’s drooling—in an adorable way, of course.

“Satoru.” You nudge his shoulder. “Sa. To. Ru.”

No reaction. It’s like talking to a dead cow. You groan, your upper body pressing against his backside as you reach out to snatch his phone from the nightstand. With bleary eyes, you turn off his alarm before returning it to the table. You fall back to the side of your bed, flinching as your body still feels sore from last night.

A smile forms on your face. Finally, it’s quiet again.

You still have two more hours before you have to leave for work. I can still sleep for one hou—

The alarm starts again, playing the same damn song.

Of course. How could you forget? Satoru’s the type who sets his alarm every ten minutes just because he’ll totally ignore the first fifteen times. Are you really this tired to not remember this? Yeah, probably.

You pull your blanket over your head. Maybe you can just pay no attention to it like your husband.

Just ignore it, ignore it, ignore it.

Yeah, you can’t.

You toss away your blanket, frustrated. “Satoru, turn it off!”

Finally, the devil wakes up. He moans, his voice husky and heavy with sleep, sounding so effortlessly sexy but you’re just too irritated to acknowledge it that way. “What’s up with the loud noise..?” Sinking back into his pillow and tugging his bedcover up until it reaches his ear, he mumbles, “Honey, I’m still sleepy… Let’s fuck some other time…”

“Oh, we’ll fuck never if you don’t wake up and turn that damn thing off.”

“It’s your alarm.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes.”

“Toru, it’s literally Hatsune Miku playing.”

He giggles, still with his eyes closed. “I love Hatsune Miku.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” You repeat your motions, basically throwing yourself over him so you can reach his nightstand. Satoru lets out a little oof under your weight, groaning. “Babe, what—” You turn a deaf ear to him, making sure to sink your elbow into his back because he deserves it. Once you get his phone in your hand, you switch it off—the phone, not the alarm. “There. Done.” You slap back his device to the table. “Now let’s go back to sleep.”

You’re about to jump back to your side when a pair of strong arms tangle themselves around your waist, pulling you down until you land face-first on his bare chest. “I don’t think so, pumpkin,” he simpers, nuzzling the tip of his nose against the crook of your neck. Suddenly, he’s as bright as daylight. “I can’t believe you’re being so aggressive this morning. Did we not do it enough last night?” He puckers his lips, baby-talking you when he says, “Is my little baby bunny still hungry for her carrot?”

“Satoru, I’ll say this as nicely as I can. Release me now or there will be blood.”

“How is that nice?” He pouts, jutting out his lower lip. He’s hitting thirty and he still thinks he’s adorable when he does that (he is, actually, but let’s not tell him that).

Now, boyfriend Satoru would have insisted on holding you close, but husband Satoru? Oh, husband Satoru has gone through some pain. He knows better not to test you. He releases you with a sigh, his eyes drooping like a sad puppy as he watches you crawl back to your spot. “You’re so mean.”

“You love me that way.”

The corners of his lips twitch up again. “That I do.”

Satoru turns around to his side, gazing at you with the bottom half of his face concealed by the blanket he shared with you. He doesn’t really tell this often, but he loves seeing you in the morning like this. That silky nightgown. Those kiss marks on your neck and shoulders. The way your hair is so messy from all the tugging and pulling he did last night. You’re his masterpiece.

“What?” You ask, unable to sleep with how he glues his eyes on you.

“Nothing,” he smiles to himself. “You’re so pretty.”

At this hour? “That’s bullshit.”

“It’s true!”

“Well, thank you for the praise, my dear husband, but complimenting me isn’t going to make me give you a blow job at six in the morning, so can you stop staring and let me sleep? I have work in two hours. One hour and a half now ‘cause you keep on yapping at me.”

To anyone else, you would sound vicious, but like you said so yourself, this is why he loves you. To Satoru, you look the prettiest when you’re annoyed, especially when you’re annoyed because of him. It makes him feel special in such a weird way. Having spent all his life being objectified by women—and men—for his looks, and treated with endless flattery because he came from a prestigious family, you, with your feisty attitude, appeared in his world like a breath of fresh air.

(Or maybe he’s just a masochist.)

With lips curving in joy, he pokes your cheek. “Babe, babe.”

“Go to sleep, damn it.”

“I will after you answer my question.”

“Just one?”

“Just one. Promise.”

“Fine. What?”

“Do you remember when we first met?”

You open your lids, staring flatly at the ceiling above you. This dumbass is really trying to play his nostalgia card at six in the morning. You take a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He has stars in his eyes. Great. You know he’s expecting a long answer but it’s too fucking early for this. “Yes.”

“You do?” He props himself up on his elbows, his voice a pitch higher. He’s basically sparkling, giddy with excitement. “What was it like for you? What did you think about me? Did you like me from the very first start? Did the world freeze when your eyes met mine? Hehe, I bet you had a massive crush on me~ I see you’re not saying anything so is it true? You totally did, didn’t you? Oh my God, baby, that’s so cute!”

You just lie there on the bed, half-dead, half-deaf, zero energy and he keeps prattling in your ear. “You’re really not gonna let me go back to sleep, huh?”

“Nope,” Satoru replies, making sure to smack his lips in case he wasn’t irritating enough. “Hey, hey, answer me, answer me.”

Somebody kill me, please. “Okay, fine, you wanna know the truth? I used to hate your guts.”

“Eeeeeeeeh?”

“Don’t eeeeeeh me.” You pinch his cheek, ruining his pretty pout. “We couldn’t stand each other during high school, remember?”

“I never hated you, though?” He’s sliding his arms under his pillow, hugging it close as he peers at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’ve always found you cute,” he confesses, followed by a girly squeal. Satoru buries his face in the pillow, his legs flapping against the bed. “Aaaaah~ Saying it out loud like that is so embarrassing~”

“I’m gonna punch you.”

“No, seriously. You’ve never heard me saying I hated you, have you? And you know me. I hold my grudges. If I hated you, I would’ve made your life a living hell. But I didn’t, right?” He takes your hand, his thumb gliding across your knuckles before he replaces it with his lips. “I made you the happiest woman in the world instead.”

“With your money.”

“With my love,” he corrects you, flicking your nose. “Do me a favor and try to remember the first time we met. Didn’t I show you enough how much I liked you?”

The first time we met?

Okay, a little flashback.The first time you met him, it felt like you were living the life of a shoujo manga protagonist. Remember all those corny stories you read back in middle school? When character A—a female lead who was so clumsy, it was a wonder she survived the whole trip to school—met character B—the handsome male lead who seemed aloof and mysterious but turned out to be nothing but a warmhearted kid with a traumatizing backstory—in front of the school’s gate where they exchanged long stares filled with yearning and affection even though they just met? It always happened in the spring, for some reason, at the beginning of a new term. There were cherry blossom petals fluttering in the background, the words thump thump and syalala~ scattered all over the page among her inner monologue that went something like, “What a handsome boy… He looks like Prince Charming… And he has such long eyelashes too… Oh no, what is this feeling? Calm down, my heart! At this rate, he’s going to hear it!” Remember those corny lines? Yeah, well, your story went down just about the same.

“What are you panicking about? Just climb up and jump.”

“I can’t climb—I’m wearing a skirt!”

“You’re worried that I’ll see your panties? Honey, please, I’m a gentleman. I won’t stare. Plus, polka-dot panties aren’t my thing.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW I’M WEARING POLKA-DOT PANTIES?!”

Okay, maybe your story didn’t go exactly the same. But it’s true that you first met him in the spring, at the beginning of the school’s term. There were no cherry blossom trees swaying in the background because God hated you and He wasn’t that fond of adding pretty things into your life. Gojo Satoru was pretty, sure, but only until he started yapping. And knowing Satoru, he’s always yapping.

You had promised yourself earlier that day that you’d do better. Be better. No more running late to school, no more procrastinating on your homework, and maybe even try to socialize more with people (you shuddered at the thought). You didn’t wake up late that morning, and you went to school just on time but there was a car accident on your way there, forcing you to take a detour, so—

“I hate my life,” you grumbled to yourself, staring tiredly at your high school’s gate in your fresh uniform that was no longer as crisp and tidy as it was from all the running you did. The huge wrought iron gate was closed and locked. The students were already sitting in rows inside the hall, sleeping through your principal’s morning greeting. You had your bag slinging on one shoulder, your short, pleated skirt swaying as it was kissed by the wind. Your hair was sticking uncomfortably to your skin, glued by your sweat. So much for wanting to keep perfect attendance, you thought. This is the worst.

Little did you know that God in heaven was like, “Worst? Oh, honey, I’m just getting started.”

Because there he was, a devil sent from the deepest pit of hell. Your ‘Prince Charming’, walking out of a fancy black car and kicking the door closed without even thanking the poor driver. Gorgeous silver hair. Electric blue eyes. Piercing in his right ear and a bubblegum lollipop in his mouth.

Gojo Satoru.

He was a second-year student just like you but that was all you had in common. He was popular, so popular, and you didn’t have to think long to figure out why. He was a prodigy, excelling in both sports and academics, never failing to rank first in every exam, and it was so exasperating because he never seemed to pay attention to any of his classes. He was just born smart. And rich. Always carrying the new iPhone, never wearing the same outfit when he traveled outside. His Instagram was filled with photos of him taking trips to Greece and outer space (not true). His socks were made of rare breed silkworm’s saliva and his shirts were ironed by a dozen crying maidens (also not true). Apparently, his father was this big CEO who worked really closely with the government so you often heard his family name mentioned on TV. And, to top it all, he was handsome. Like unbelievably handsome. Even you had to admit that. Ridiculously tall, naughty smirk, pretty voice. He was the boy that Taylor Swift would make a whole album about.

Lucky bitch.

“I know,” Satoru said, noticing the way you were staring at him as he walked closer to your spot. He pulled the lollipop out of his mouth, gazing down at you (because, again, he was as tall as a tree) with one corner of his lips raised higher than the other. “I’m handsome.”

You weren’t exactly staring at him because he was handsome—okay, yeah, maybe you did. A little. “You’re late too?”

You had never interacted with him before and you were 99.9% sure he didn’t know your name, so maybe you should’ve started by introducing yourself to him. Or telling him not to be so cocky ‘cause who the hell started a conversation like that?

“Yep.” He plopped his lollipop back into his mouth, coloring his tongue blue. “But unlike you, I chose to be late. Needed my beauty sleep, you see, but you get that.” He stretched out both hands in the air, cracking his neck. A little strip of perfect fair skin was shown above his belt but you looked away, clearing your throat.

“So,” he yawned. “Are you going to climb first or should I?”

“What?”

“The gate, genius.”

“You want me to climb up the gate?”

“How else are you planning to go inside?”

“Well, true, but…” You looked around. Your usual school guard was nowhere in sight. Yes, the gate was quite high and you could hurt yourself making your way down but he could lend you a hand, right? It would be easy. You could stealthily slip yourself into the student’s hall after that. No one would notice. There would be no problem.

Well, aside from one thing.

“What are you panicking about? Just climb up and jump.”

“I can’t climb—I’m wearing a skirt.”

Satoru arched an eyebrow before he chuckled. “You’re worried that I’ll see your panties? Honey, please, I’m a gentleman. I won’t stare. Plus, polka-dot panties aren’t my thing.”

You blanched. “How do you know I’m wearing polka-dot panties?!”

“Oh, I got it right?” He rolled his lollipop to the side of his mouth for the sake of putting his annoying smile on display. “I must be a psychic or something. On top of my good-looking face? God really does have His favorite, huh?”

“Probably 'cause He feels sorry for giving you such a shitty personality.”

His jaw dropped. He knew he had a shitty personality but he thought girls loved that about him. “Well, aren’t you feisty,” he muttered, and you were worried for a split second that you might have upset him—not that you cared about his feelings specifically, you just didn’t want to jeopardize your connection with him (He was rich, okay? It would be great for your future career if you were friends with someone like him). But then, Satoru stuck his hands inside the pockets of his pants, leaning close with his lips pulled back in a cheeky grin. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Wanna go on a date?”

Oh, that did it. Those little chances of you having a crush on him? Gone. “Gross.”

“Ouch, okay, that actually hurts,” he pouted, rubbing the center of his chest where you just shoved him. After taking a moment to examine your face—you really did look like you wanted to kill him—Satoru gave up with a sigh, shrugging. “Well, whatever. I’m going in.” He pivoted on his heels, making his way toward the gate. “I’ll see you never, Polky.”

“Wait!”

He clicked on his tongue, turning around to say, “Yell louder, will ya? Our school’s guard is practically deaf but I’m sure people in China would love to hear what you have to say.”

“You’re annoyingly talkative.”

“Part of my charm,” he replied. “I feel bad for you for not seeing it, honestly. Now, what is it? First period’s about to start.”

You thought about it, your eyes flying back toward the double-door gate that was attached to the compound wall. It looked sturdy enough to maintain both of your weights. If you made the jump, you’d still have the chance of being the perfect student for the rest of the semester. But did you really want to ask for his help? He was definitely not going to let it go if that was the case. Oh, you knew he was going to be so annoying about it.

“Any day now, cupcake.”

Yeah, I’m not doing it. You weren’t the type who was so against swallowing your pride if the circumstances demanded you to, but if it involved him? You’d rather die. “You know what, it’s fine. I’ll just go home.”

“What?” He knitted his eyebrows, watching you spin around on your heels. You were truly a piece of work, huh? So stubborn to admit that you needed his help. Throwing back his head and groaning dramatically, he exclaimed, “Ugh, fine. Just give me your bag.”

“What—Hey!”

With nimble hands, Satoru managed to snatch it away before you could let the thought sink through. He carried it with one hand, not stopping under your command. You chased after him, and you were so close to getting it back before he flung your bag to the other side of the gate—and so carelessly, mind you.

You watched it land on the ground in horror. “Are you crazy?! I got my iPad in there!”

“Whoops,” he grinned, clearly didn’t feel sorry in the slightest. “Okay, your turn, Princess. Come on, I’ll give you a lift.”

Ugh, why is this happening to me? Left with no choice, you made your way to him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He bent his body forward, exaggerating a bow. “I meant, it is now your turn, oh her Royal Highness of the Democratic Republic of Polkaland—”

You pushed him down by the shoulders. “Shut up and get down on your knees.”

“Oooh, so demanding~” he cooed, but his flirty tone vanished instantly the moment he felt your foot stepping on his shoulder. “Whoa, wait—dude, your shoes!”

Okay, that was your bad. Should’ve taken them off before you did that. Now his black blazer was painted with soil. “Sorry,” you winced. “I’ll help you clean later.”

“Yeah, yeah. You weigh like a ton, by the way.” Oh, you know what? He deserved it. Actually, he deserved more dirt. “Are you rubbing your soles on me?” He gasped.

“You wanted clean shoes, right?”

“Not by using me!”

You ignore him, curling your fingers around the iron bars. “I’m going up. Promise me you won’t look.”

Satoru sighed. “Like I said, I’m not interested in seeing your—aw, aw, aw, aw!” Tears emerged in his eyes. Not only were you stepping on him, you were also using his head to maintain your balance, gripping his strands a little too tightly when you felt that you were seconds away from slipping. “Fuck—Stop pulling on my hair!”

“I’m trying not to fall!” You regained your balance. Feeling a bit sorry, you placed both hands on the bars, gripping them firmly as you stood on his shoulders. You stretched out one arm, fingers clawing against the iron as you tried to reach the top. You got it. Now, all you needed to do was pull yourself up.

On the count of three. One… Two… Three… Pull!

Eh?

“What now?” Gojo asked, his patience wearing thin. His shoulders were throbbing in pain. You weren’t actually that heavy for him. It was the way you were stepping on him, treating him like mud that’s the issue.

You felt your cheeks growing hot, your voice reduced to whispers when you answered, “I can’t do it.”

“What?”

“I can’t pull myself up, okay?!” You yelled in shame. You had calculated everything except for the part where you barely had any muscles in your arms to carry your own weight. “I’m too weak!”

“And you couldn’t have thought about that before you used me as your doormat?!”

“See, this is why I told you I was going home!”

“But your bag is over there—”

“WHOSE FAULT DO YOU THINK THAT IS?!”

Oh, both of you were giving each other headaches for sure. “Okay, let’s try another plan,” Satoru said. “I’ll go first and I’ll pull you up.”

“Can you? You’re built like a twig and you said I weighed a ton.”

“It was a joke, Polky, lighten up. And excuse me, I have muscles, all right? You just can’t tell underneath all these clothes I’m wearing.”

“It was a joke, Twiggy, lighten up.”

“Oh, you little—”

“Enough, we don’t have much time.” You climbed down his shoulders, exhaling in relief once you were back on the ground. “Want me to give you a push?”

“As much as I would loveto use you as my doormat, I got this.” He brushed the dirt off his shoulder and tossed his lollipop to the nearest bin. “You just stand there and look pretty,” he winked. “And try not to fall in love with me too fast.”

Before you could land a kick to his shin, Satoru made his leap, making it look so easy that it almost convinced you to give it another go. He sat down on the top rail—thank God, this gate didn’t have any finials—with his legs settled on both sides to maintain his balance. He took a quick scan of his surroundings to make sure you were alone before he tossed his own bag to the ground. “Okay, I think we’re safe.”

Satoru returned his attention to you, and for a moment, you exchanged stares. “What?” You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. He just grinned, flashing his teeth and you knew he was up to something again. “No,” you mumbled out as realization dawned on you. “You’re going to leave me here?!”

“Abandoning my princess? Of course not.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “Say that you’ll go on a date with me and I’ll pull you up.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Am not.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Well, this is your chance to get to know me,” he smirked. “Come on, just one date. I’ll take you somewhere fancy.”

“Not interested.”

His smile slowly began to fade the more you rejected him. “You’re seriously saying no?”

“Want to hear it in German? Nee.”

“That’s Dutch.”

“Whatever.”

Satoru took a moment to himself, both confused and baffled (and a bit amused, actually). But surely, no one would reject the Gojo Satoru, right? Yet, there you were, glaring at him as you said so. “Huh,” he poked his tongue against his cheek. You weren’t sure whether he found you vexing or even more… interesting. He accepted his defeat with a heavy exhale, just for now. “Fine. Call me Your Majesty then. If you do it cutely, maybe I’ll pull you up.”

“Oh my God, why are you suchan ass, Satoru?”

“Oh, the princess knows my name!” He claimed in delight, already forgetting the shame from your rejection. “It’s about time you tell me yours.”

“Yes, it’s Miss Fuck Off from Class B. Now, give me your hand and pull me up!”

“Say the magic word then.”

Oh, this isn’t worth it. This is so not worth it. “Fine,” you said, and to his surprise, you whirled around and walked away.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” His smirk faltered. “What about your bag, Sweetheart?”

You didn’t bother to look back. “I don’t care. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“That’s stupid!”

“I’d feel stupider if I had to kiss your ass.”

“Would you prefer to kiss my lips instead?”

“Goodbye!”

You stomped away. For a couple of seconds, there was silence, and you thought, oh, I actually managed to shut him up. You mentally gave yourself a pat on the back. You might not have your bag with you. Or your wallet. Or your phone. And if you were really planning to go home like this then you’d have to walk for five blocks, but! At least you got to leave him speechless. That was quite an achievement, wasn’t it?

“If you come with me I’ll pay for your iPad!”

You’re back at the gate. “Would you be so kind as to lend me a hand, your majesty?”

Satoru laughed. A genuine laugh actually came out from the devil’s mouth. It almost felt strange. Somewhere deep down, you imagined that he’d have a creepy laugh, or maybe even maniacal. But no. His laugh was so, so adorable. So boyish. So…heartwarming. It was the kind of laughter that would make you smile even when you were clueless of what he was laughing about.

“You’re funny, I like you,” he said, sending tingles to your cheeks which turned you completely into the typical shoujo manga protagonist.

Eew, what the fuck, did my heart just skip a beat? Gross.

Congratulations. You just had your first shoujo manga-worthy inner monologue.

Satoru extended his hand. “You better hold tight, Princess.”

“If you let go, I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll keep you safe, I promise.” Another smile, and there it was again. Your heart doing things inside your chest. You tried to find some excuse, blaming all of this on his looks.

Satoru pulled you up, holding you securely yet so gently by the waist once you reached the top rail. He held you close, noticing how you were shaking a little bit when you felt the fence rattle underneath your weight. This is strong enough to hold us both, right? You couldn’t help but worry. When you were finally sure you were fine, you began to notice the pleasant, intoxicating smell lingering on the little space between you. His scent… It was wonderful—sumptuous and warm, and you figured, that described him perfectly as a person. A mix of cedar woods and cypress, with a bit of sweetness to it. It almost reminded you of—

“The Last Day of Summer.”

You blinked twice. “Huh?”

“My perfume,” he smirked. “The Last Day of Summer by Gucci. You like it?”

“What—no,” you scoffed. “I didn’t even notice it. You smell like sweat.”

“Is that so?” He was definitely not buying your bluff, but he played along, just for a moment. Satoru leaned in, his right hand moving from the dip of your waist to your wrist, his fingers covering yours. You could feel the tips of his strands tickling your cheek, your body freezing up the moment his breath grazed your neck. You found yourself holding your own, your eyes closing shut when he took a sniff at you.

Wait. Sniff?

Satoru pulled away, scrunching up his nose. “I think that’s you, Polky. Did you miss your shower this morning or what?”

“I will push you.”

“Aaw, but then who’ll help you get back down?” He tugged you toward him, his face hovering just a few inches above yours. He tapped his finger against your nose, matching the words he said, “Not. So. Smart. Are you, baby?”

“You—”

“HEY! YOU TWO!”

The thundering voice of a man caused you both to flinch. Your gym teacher—Yaga Masamichi—was there, probably glaring from behind his sunglasses and fuming in his sweaty track pants. “What are you doing?! It’s your first day and you’re sneaking out already?!”

“Interesting point,” Satoru answered, unbothered. “We’re actually planning to sneak in.”

“Teacher’s office. Now.” He didn’t have the patience—or maybe the time?—to stay and lecture you both. He walked away, grousing under his breath.

You let out a heavy sigh. It was only ten in the morning and you already felt so tired. Unlike you, Satoru was still brimming with energy. If anything, he seemed even cheerier than before. “Well, it sucks that we got caught but we had fun, right?”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

“Okay, Miss Grumpy.” He so casually ruffled your hair as if you had been friends for years. “I’ll go first.” He hopped off the fence, landing back on earth almost as gracefully as a cat. You wished you could follow his lead but from that height? You weren’t so confident. “It’s all right, Princess,” he said, noticing your worry. “I’ll be here to catch you.”

That was actually one of your concerns. Not because he didn’t seem like he’d be capable of doing so, but more of what would come after he caught you.

You’d be… in his arms, right? And then what?

Fuck, it’s just Satoru. You didn’t even care about him until now. Just jump.

So, you did. Without thinking too much about it, you removed your hands from the railing, but you didn’t jump toward him as you were too stubborn—and embarrassed—to do so. The chance of killing yourself over this was close to zero, right? You’d be fine.

You could feel your feet touching the ground. You were okay. Or at least, you thought you were. Your shoes, unfortunately, weren’t made to do such a reckless stunt. Your soles were too slippery, and like stepping on ice, you lost your footing, your eyes burned by the blazing sunlight as you felt gravity pull you down.

Until a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your waist.

“For God’s sake,” Satoru said, and you felt his words reverberating from his chest since you had your face pressed against it. He sighed, removing one hand from your hips to cup the back of your head. “You should’ve jumped towards me, you idiot.” You could feel his long fingers slipping between your locks, forgetting to breathe air into your lungs when he pulled away, gazing at you solemnly. “Look, it’s cute to be stubborn and not want to ask for my help, but what would you do if you got hurt?”

It’s corny to say this (actually, everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes was corny. You weren’t sure why your life—and yourself—had turned into this state. You were doing okay before he showed up in your life.) but you were lost in his gaze. The sky above you was brilliant blue, so breathtaking as it was painted by God Himself, and yet… When you compared that to his eyes...

They’re so pretty… He has such long eyelashes too…

(You have got to stop reading shoujo manga. Seriously. Maybe head over to shounen. Blood, death, and eternal suffering—that would stop you from thinking about his lashes.)

Satoru was close. So, so close, that a butterfly awakened in your chest.And was it just your imagination or was he leaning even closer to you?

“Huh…” he mumbled out. Locking your eyes together, he gazed deep into yours, not romantically—though you were too consumed by his stare to tell the difference. It was more like… He was in awe.

You fidgeted. “W-what?”

“Your eye color changes a little under the sun,” he smiled, sweet and youthful. “Pretty.”

Mush. There was only mush in your head. And Satoru. “You—You’re too close! Get off me!”

He giggled, easily catching your hand before you could shove him away. “You’re blushing? So cute~”

“Why are you two still here?!” Yaga, the same teacher from before, returned with a volleyball in hand. Apparently, he left earlier to get his equipment. “Didn’t I tell you to go already?!”

“We’re going!” Satoru released you, clicking his tongue in annoyance—maybe a habit? “I swear to God, that man needs to get laid.”

“I heard that, Satoru!”

“I wanted you to hear that, Sensei!”

“Are you crazy?!” You slapped his chest. “That’s a teacher you’re talking to!”

“Relax, my grandpa owns this school. He can’t touch me.”

Why am I not surprised? Biting back your sigh, you took a step back, only to realize, great, I bruised my ankle.

He noticed, even when you were trying your best to hide it. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you said, doing as best as you could to walk without limping. “Thanks for the help. I’ll see you never.”

He matched your steps. “Did you sprain your ankle?”

“Just a bruise.”

“We should visit the infirmary first, just in case.”

“We?”

“I can’t possibly let you go alone.” He sounded like you were asking a dumb question. “Half of this was my fault anyway.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you threw my bag—”

“Because I’m so handsome that you felt too shy to just jump into my arms,” he spoke over you. His lips curving. “Wouldn’t have injured yourself if you just did what I said. But don’t worry. I’m sure there will be another chance.”

I hope not, you shuddered.

“Seems like you’re in pain, Sweetheart.”

“I’m fine.”

“Want me to carry you?” He beamed at you. “Piggyback ride? I can do it bridal style too, if you want. It will be so cute, we can head toward the sunset together after school.”

“I’d rather die. And stop following me. I’m heading to the restroom.”

“Running away from me? Coward.”

“You want me to pee on you? ‘Cause I’ll do it.”

“Kinky, but maybe some other time.”

Thankfully though, he listened to you this time, returning back the privacy you’d been craving since the moment he opened his mouth. He watched you walk away, his lips slowly curving back up as a new sense of excitement and joy filled his chest. “Hey, Princess!” He shouted, making sure that you’d hear his next words even with the distance between you. “I’ll see you on Sunday!”

“For what?!”

“Our date!”

“Oh, fuck off!”

And that was it. That was how you met your husband. To sum up, he had no sense of delicacy, he talked too much, had no respect for your personal space, and the way he snickered every time he saw you? Ugh. Yes, he was pretty. Yes, he made your heart race. But you’re not that shallow of a woman to be with someone just because of their looks so nothing ever happened. Not right away, at least.

These childish banters and unfortunate meetings kept occurring during your years in high school. And as if that wasn’t enough, God reunited you once again in college. You thought you were cursed. He thought it was destiny. You still remember how you used to hold yourself back from ripping out his hair whenever he walked up to you, grinning from ear to ear while singing—not calling—out your name. But then you had this one class with him during your final year and your professor put you two on the same project together. You started getting to know him better, and you found out that Satoru had more sides to him, more complex than just a little brat who craved your attention. You got closer. You stopped rejecting his calls. You missed his cheeky grins when he wasn’t around. And when he kissed you when you were crying because your dog just died? It wasn’t that bad. It was comforting. It was warm. And sweet. It was wonderful.

(Yes, out of all the times he could’ve picked, he kissed you after you buried the precious family member who’d wiggled his tail for you for seven years)

And before you know it, he asked you to be his forever and you said yes. Immediately. Undoubtedly. Wholeheartedly.

“Earth to wifey~” Your husband Satoru pops his head back into your vision. The ceiling that you’ve been staring at for the last few minutes turns blurry behind him. You blink, placing your focus back on him. “You suddenly turned quiet. Is it really that hard to answer my question? Babe, if you tell me you forgot about our first meeting, I’m actually going to shed some real manly tears.”

You heaved out a sigh. “Actually, it’s the opposite. I remember it all too well.”

“Aaaw, baby~” He reaches over to kiss you, only to have you slap a palm over his face.

“Now that I think about it,” you say. “You were so annoying when we first met. And disrespectful.”

He blinks, sweating. “B-babe?”

“Not to mention narcissistic, selfish, impolite—”

“Wait, hold up—What’s going on?!”

“You called me Polky. You called me fat—”

“Wait, this is not the reaction I wanted—You’re supposed to fall deeper in love with me!”

“You threw my bag without permission. You never paid back for what you did to my iPad. You kissed me on my dog’s funeral—oh wow, you were a little piece of—”

“Okay, forget the past, forget the past! Remember that you love me!”

“I think you should go back to your side of the bed.”

“Babeeeeeeee, I’m sorryyyyyyyyy!” He whines, tackling you in a hug, and rubbing his face on your stomach. “You can have my credit card for today. Buy anything you want, okay? No limit.”

“Okay, deal.”

You shake his hand, and the deal is done. Mission accomplished.

“Why do I feel like I just got tricked?” Satoru pouts.

You gently pat his cheek, smiling. “Remember that you love me, honey.”

You can’t help but think that if cupids were real, your cupid must have worked overtime cause damn, what tough work it was to make you fall in love with his insufferable ass.

“Ah! You just thought I’m insufferable, didn’t you?” Satoru asks, squinting his eyes.

You plant a brief kiss on his lips. “I think about you that way every day, my love.”

“You are so in love with me,” he giggles, snuggling closer to you. “Baby, baby, I’m cold.” He circles his arms around your waist again, landing a cute kiss on your shoulder. You can tell he’s smiling like a child, hugging you like a child, and as much as you want to go back to sleep, you can never find the strength to push him away when he’s like this.

“Fine, we can cuddle. But keep your mouth shut. I’m going to sleep.”

“Okay~”

“I’m serious.”

He pretends to zip up his mouth.

“Okay, good. Stay like that.”

Satoru nods. He holds onto his promise. He keeps his mouth shut.

Can’t say the same about his other body parts though.

Because your husband is now grinding his hips against your behind, not too much, not too hard, just enough to make you notice that yup, he’s hard. His hands slip underneath your nightgown, skimming over your thighs before they press flat against your stomach. He’s so warm—he’s always warm—and every touch he paints on your skin is both comforting and provoking.

“Satoru,” you warn him.

He makes humming noises in response, basically telling you, “I’m keeping my mouth shut, just like you asked.” He’s bratty that way.

You sigh. You decide to let him be. It will take more energy to push him away anyway. Besides, even if he’s insatiable when it comes to sex, Satoru will never force you to do anything you don’t want to. You just have to ignore him.

Which is not an easy feat, unfortunately, because before long, his hands find their way to your breasts, cupping each one fully with his palms. He makes another noise, which you easily translate to “Good morning, girls~” (You know this because he said that almost every other morning). Giddy, Satoru finds himself giggling again, squeezing them from behind but in a way that is so not sexy. It’s like a kid trying out his new squeeze toy in Toys-R-Us.

You roll your eyes. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm.” He starts playing with your nipples this time. Again, in a totally not sexy way. He’s tweaking, pinching, poking your buds inside with his point fingers, and watching them pop back out again. He’s tittering near your ear and you should really find him annoying but you can’t help but giggle too. He’s so dumb for even finding this entertaining.

“You are unbelievable,” you say, turning your head around just enough to kiss him. You hope for dear God, you don’t smell like your usual morning breath, but seeing how he doesn’t smell like one and still tastes like the whipped cream he had eaten (off your body) three hours ago, you figure you’ll be okay.

You don’t plan to take this further than a playful kiss but when you feel your husband groan against your mouth, pleased by the way you close your lips around his so perfectly, you know you’re losing your battle, and you don’t care. Who cares if you only had three hours of sleep and eight hours of stressful work ahead of you? Satoru tastes so sweet on your tongue. He always does. And you’re addicted to him.

With a little push, you have him lying back on the bed. He has one hand resting on your nape, holding your head firmly as he kisses you deeper. “Satoru,” you sigh against his mouth, his tongue rubbing against yours before he moves down to pepper kisses down your neck. He stays mute, but only because you told him to before (though if you knew it would lead to this, you wouldn’t have said so). Your husband may have the habit of spouting out stupid jokes one after another in his wake, but he always says the right thing during sex. The things you want to hear. The things you love to hear.

You can feel him smiling against your ear, your body shivering at the sensation of his breath caressing your skin. You can’t help but expect him to whisper something, something that you know will make you curl your toes in excitement. Last night he had you begging to turn every filthy word he spoke into action. Today, he just takes your earlobe between his lips, his breathing steady but heavy. The sound of his lips parting… The little mmm when he sucks on the sensitive spot… You're losing your mind.

His touch no longer feels light on your skin, drawing out hushed moans from your lips when he kneads your breasts, his thumb gliding against your nipple from over your gown. A soft chuckle brushes your ear. He knows how much you want to hear his voice. It doesn’t feel right to you, feels like something’s missing. But he won’t do that. Not until you start pleading.

But two can play at this game.

You sit down on his lap, the strap of your nightgown sliding down your shoulder just enough to tease. The sight of the purple bruises he left on your cleavage the night before entices him. You’re so pretty. So pretty when you’re marked and bruised.

With both hands on his chest, you nibble on your lower lip, rubbing your against his hardness. “I need you inside me.”

“Fuck,” he groans, losing his battle. He starts whining when he sees you giggling. “Baby, that’s not fair. You never said that to me before.”

“Really?” You roll your hips, rubbing him at the right spot, the right pace. The way you move is obscene. The thin fabrics separating your body from his only add more excitement to your already burning skin. “And does Daddy like it?”

His face nearly explodes. “Oh my God, stop. You’re torturing me.” He sits up only to grab you by the waist before he throws you back to bed with one arm.

You find yourself laughing when he blows against your stomach, treating you like a child. “Stop, that tickles!”

“I asked you to call me Daddy in the last three years we’ve been married and you always kicked me in the face, and now you’re saying it just like that?”

“What, did you want it to be special? Should I go make you a bath filled with roses, put Hatsune Miku on speakers—”

“Oh, that’s it, come here!”

You’re laughing until you can’t breathe, your leg pulled and your arm pinned behind your back. He tickles your sides, his smile playful and bright, filled with mirth. This joy you both have, you’ve never shared it with anyone else. And maybe he feels that too. Because when he flips you around, pressing your bodies together, Satoru’s gaze turns soft. He leans close, gathering your face in his hand. There’s no laughter, no giggle, no mischief in his eyes, only honesty. His voice sounds deep yet gentle when he speaks, “I love you.”

No matter how often he’s said it in the past, how much he’s said it yesterday, it always feels like it’s the first time you hear the words. And it’s rare for you to say it back to him, but he doesn’t mind. He understands that you often struggle to portray your feelings with words, too shy to say it under his overwhelming gaze, and if you ask him, it’s one of the reasons why he cherishes you so dearly. Because he knows whenever those words do come out of your mouth, you truly mean them.

Like now.

Cupping the back of his hand, you press your cheek further against his palm. “I love you more,” you whisper. “Every part of you.” And there’s so much more you wish you could say, but will your words ever be enough to describe them all? It wasn’t obvious to his eyes before as you were good at masking your emotions with sarcastic remarks and mean retorts, but reminiscing those old days you shared with him… It really made you realize just how much you’re in love with the man you’ve shared the last seven years with. You’ve grown so attached that even the thought of spending some days alone without him scares you to your bones. And with the way he’s gazing at you right now, ocean eyes filled with the same amount of passion and affection as they were on the day he confessed his feelings to you for the first time, it’s only right for you to be overwhelmed by your emotions.

Sometimes it scares me because I never thought I’d feel this way about someone.

Even the simplest thought of losing you, of not having you wake up beside me in the morning, is enough to haunt me for days.

Stay with me. Don’t ever leave me.

I love you.

Satoru.

“I just… I love you so much…” And you hate that it’s all you could say.

But it’s enough. It’s more than enough. Because Satoru is blushing, his eyes turning round, his lips parted but no words can be found. He just looks at you, astonished by the vulnerability you display on your face. The honesty. The purity of each gesture. How beautiful you are…

“Satoru?”

He pulls you into his embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Hugging you so tightly, he barely gives you a chance to breathe and yet, you only wish for him to hold you tighter. You can’t tell just how much your words paint vibrant colors to his world—and bold red to his cheeks. “Are you planning to give me a heart attack?” He murmurs near your ear, a hint of shiver in his voice. “What the hell was that?”

You can’t help but chuckle. Embarrassed Satoru is the best kind of Satoru. “Sorry.”

“You kidding me? Say it again.” He returns the space between you, but only for an inch or two because that’s all he can bear. He strokes your face, his heart beating hard enough that you can almost feel it on your skin. “I think this is the cutest you’ve ever been.”

“I’m maxed out for today, though,” you say, wincing. “You’re gonna have to wait another ten years before I say that again.”

“I’ll wait forever if that’s what it takes,” he smiles, gliding his thumb across your cheekbone before he kisses you. “My sweet, sweet wife. I’m so happy I kissed you that day. Sorry your dog died, though.”

You chortle. “Honestly, you couldn’t have picked some other time?”

“You looked super cute when you cried, okay? Sue me.”

“You’re so ridiculous.” But you press his lips against his anyway, both of you smiling into the kiss.

“Babe.”

“Hmm?”

“Can I have your tits back in my mouth?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Can I… also bring my carrot back to my bunny’s mouth?”

“Aaaaand we’re done.” With a little shove to his chest, you send him back to the bed.

“Wha—” He sputters, mouth opening and closing like fish out of water. “Babe—”

“I’m gonna go make some coffee.”

“No, wait!” He shuffles quickly to his knees, holding onto your wrist. “Honey, I was kidding!”

“Moment’s gone, Toru.”

“But I’m still haaaard,” he cries, and whines, pleading at you with his pretty eyes. “Baby, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll behave so come back to me? Please?”

You already have one foot off the bed, tossing him a look over your shoulder. “You have hands.” Tying up your hair in a messy bun, you step down, smirking. “Use them.”

“Babeeeeee~”

You lean in to kiss him on the nose, patting his cheek when you say, “Take your time.”

As you walk away, you hear him mumble sadly behind you, “But your carrot…”

Yeah, your husband is insufferable.

And that’s why you love him.

***

Next Chapter

Shoutout to @justasketch and @princess-okkotsu for being my first readers and for not throwing up from the excessive amount of cringe in this fic. Love you, babes ❤️

#gojo fluff #gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru smut #satoru fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fics #gojou x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #fics.24HourswithYou

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nouvxllev · 8 days

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CLINGYGRUMPYJENNA X READER!!

plsplsplsplspls

Summary: Co-workers in public, lovers in private 🙌🏼, while shooting for Wednesday, J gets really stressed, and craves for R's intimacy, but can't have that yet until break of dawn, so J basically gets sooo annoyed with anyone who tries talking to her that isn't R.

the waiting game

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: fluf, grumpy & clingy jenna!

a/n: caught basically the nastiest cold for a whole week, but im back! sorry requests taking too long, tryna to balance everything rn but it all will be done soon!!!!

masterlist.

Jenna hasn’t seen you in almost 4 hours, 36 minutes, and 4 fucking seconds.

Yes, she counted, yes, it’s still ongoing, and, yes, she could almost murder someone with her bare hands if time even dares to pass by without you.

What makes matters worse is that she's terribly sleep-deprived even with someone's arms wrapped around her night after night.

Of course, the aforementioned someone swirling in her head 24/7 is you. Her not-quite-lover in public but entirely her beloved behind closed doors.

If Jenna had it her way, she would’ve jumped off a building by now and hard-launched the both of you by herself just so she could get hugs, kisses, and your hand intertwined with hers all she wanted.

Obviously, the universe decides to be a stuck-up bitch just now in their 14 billion years of life, wanting nothing more than to see Jenna Marie Ortega suffer without having you.

But it's fine.

She could get through this.

If there's someone in the world that could handle a single day without your warm hugs and lovely kisses, whether it be on the cheek or the lips, it would be her. She didn't endure almost half a year seeing that godforsaken Wednesday dance to go completely insane without you.

— Is what she kept telling herself 30 seconds earlier before she broke down and almost turned to witchcraft if you don't appear in front of right her.

She could push through with it, like she always does. It's a simple routine that never got the best of her.

Wake up and have breakfast with the love of your life while prepping each other with kisses and whatnot, run to set for the both of you to act out a scene for a while, when break hits all Jenna has to do is intertwine her pinky with yours under the table, then do hair and makeup after, act out a scene then wrap it all up, lie to everyone for the 100th time that her house is just a few steps away from yours, hit a bakery on the way home or maybe an ice cream shop if Jenna feels peckish, break down the apartment door Jenna shares with you, run to the bedroom, and smother each other with kisses and cuddles. Maybe a makeout session if Jenna's lucky.

It's bliss then repeat.

But today just so happens to be the day that Jenna takes over the whole episode, doing stunts and everything with little to no cuts for side characters.

She'd think that you would have nothing to do than act out your scenes—with her—might she add and it'll be all fine and the nights she'd spent waking up at 3 in the morning would be all's well.

But no, unfortunately you were the epitome of the perfect person and everyone just has to drag you around to who knows where to deal with some difficulties.

Plus, the both of you woke up late so she didn't even get the full girlfriend treatment she always got in the morning.

It was completely unfair!

Jenna was tired, grumpy, a bit too snappy, desperate for your attention, and she misses you. Alot.

And by that she means she misses the way you would wrap your arms around her after a busy day of filming together, pull her close, and feel the way how her lips fits perfectly on yours.

She would've dragged you back to bed and cuddle with you if she knew what was about to happen. Every second not spent with you is absolutely meaningless in her book.

Unfortunately, she has to play the waiting game.

She's fucking losing it.

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

It was 11 PM on a Thursday night.

Jenna is really so fucking tired, she could almost snap.

She had almost endured five to six hours of you nowhere even near her. The most she even interacted with you on set was when the both of you were acting a scene then abruptly got cut because of technical difficulties.

Plus, everyone but you was talking to her as if she was some kind of star! (she is.)

Jenna almost wished for an accident, or maybe a wardrobe malfunction that leads her to discovering some sort of new allergy about herself, just so she could be rushed off to the hospital and have you fussing over her, then maybe you could hold her hand and kiss her as if she would heal.

"How's it going, Ree—"

"Literally, I mean this in the nicest way possible, shut the fuck up Georgie."

He doesn't respond immediately, his eyes wide open as he steps back in surrender with his hands up in the air. "Ooooohkay!"

The brunette's head shot up immediately, her eyes burning and her shoulders slumped as she sank further into her chair for what felt like the millionth time.

"I... I didn't mean that, I'm so sorry." She closed her eyes shut, rubbing her temples, "I'm doing fine." She reassured herself more than anyone else, gripping the armchair for support.

"Biggest lie ever."

"You caught in Jenna's crossfire too, Emma?

"Oh damn, even Moosa?"

As if on cue, the whole cast decides to join in the damn conversation. Jenna loved them all, really, but it would've been so much better if a certain someone also joined and not far off into the distance talking to one of the editors.

Come on, would it literally kill you to question yourself why half of the cast was surrounding practically the love of your life while you're standing like 10 feet away!?

"You seem tense, J."

"Something wrong?"

"You've been staring at us for an hour with that Kubrick Stare of yours."

Who's exactly talking to her? Georgie, Emma, Moosa, it's all in that order but their voices seemed deranged, and it couldn't be any more worse when she's been trying to catch your eye for what seemed like the past hour.

She couldn't take shit when she's horribly missing you. So, she bites, and raises her voice more than she should, "Should I close my eyes to spare you the terrible fucking horror? Fuck, man!"

Jenna let an exasperated sigh escape from her mouth as she rose to her feet, eyeing the group with probably the most intense stare someone could bear witness to. She half-expected she'd get another pain-in-the-ass comeback from atleast one of them, but she was met with unusual silence.

The three look practically horrified, as if they were seeing the fictional idea of Wednesday Addams in the form of a 5'1, 22 year old woman dressed as her. Like they have the small but terrible quote running gears in their heads.

She heard them in unison muttering quiet apologies, "Sorry, Jenna…"

Her mind told her to forgive them for whatever they did, but her heart told her y/n.

"No, no it's fine." The brunette shook her head, her words forming icicles on each synonym and her eyes were like seeing inside of a storm. Without the peaceful atmosphere of an eye, clearly. "I'm just... stressed. Is Y/n free?"

Emma tilted her head to the side, "Actually, I never really saw them that much today, no?" She exchanged glances with the both of them.

"Heard they're busy with the tech team," Georgie crossed his arms, "Even for an actor, they've got a skill to be a director with how familiar they are behind the scenes."

Moosa nodded in agreement, "Yeah, they've been pretty tied up with all the technical stuff lately. Must be exhausting."

For fuck sakes, why did you have to be the most perfect and talented goddamn person?

"Why you looking for them?"

Jenna definitely did not need another goddamn voice entering her goddamn space.

She could almost roll her eyes and flip everybody off if not for Joy and the others being the most precious co-stars of them all.

"Because!" Jenna exclaimed, her voice cracking while lifting her arms in the air, "Y/n's my fucking lov...-"

Oh, shit.

"Lov...?"

"...Lovely neighbor." She blinked. "They... They bake me some cookies whenever I get in a bad mood."

Oh to fucking hell with this lovers in private bullshit. Lovely neighbor, that was the best damn excuse she could come up with?

"Well, heard they went home early because of an emergency, but it's kinda pouring out—"

It was in Jenna and Jenna alone on how insanely and horrifyingly fast she bolted out of the conversation, quickly changed clothes, thanking to the literal heavens (fuck the universe, Jenna will die on this hill) that Tim wrapped up early.

Josh. Josh was always the one you manage to bring up to be one of the most carefree guys in set, it's certain that he knew wherever the fuck you went. Actually, you always looked so happy whenever you talked to her about Josh and how much he lends with whatever left over set pieces they had, it's almost insane that you were—

"Aliyah, I'd tell you to shut up and fuck off as of this moment but I am literally too tired to even say that, what!?"

"Jenna, where the hell is your hoodie you wore on Christmas Eve!? I literally told you like an hour before your half-assed reply to tell me where'd you put your clothes."

Of course her sisters, more specifically Aliyah Goddamn Ortega, would find the most perfect timing to call her about the stupidest shit there could ever be.

"Okay, now, fuck off."

Jenna grimaced through gritted teeth as she hung up. She loved her sister, but does she love you more? Absolutely.

"Josh!" She called out, running towards him, "Sorry, kind of abrupt, but do you know where Y/n went?" Atleast she had some decency left in her to be polite to some.

"Actually—"

"Let one more word come out of your mouth not related to my question, and I swear, Josh—"

"Y/n left early, they told me to tell you but I guess I forgot."

Maybe a little too carefree.

"You fucking guess!?— I mean, yes, thank you. I’ll be going."

Oh, the waiting game is a pain in the ass.

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

You pace back and forth in Jenna's apartment, your socks making a dent in the fuzzy carpet in the living room Jenna bought when you moved in with her, a nail in between your teeth and rain pouring in the background.

How in the hell did you forget possibly all your devices on fucking set!?

Your phone was dead, and your laptop was unfortunately abandoned by its owner (yours truly) and you have no way of contacting your lovely girlfriend.

And worse of all, it was a little over midnight.

All this because you got a notification that someone was at the door for an hour.

And it was just a fucking cat. (To be fair, they were really cute.)

You were starting to worry, especially how it was pouring outside like there was a hurricane incoming and how you left early without Jenna intertwining her warm and soft hands around yours.

So not only did you leave all your devices behind, but you also left Jenna without any means of contacting you.

You almost cursed yourself, maybe even doing the most stupidest and financially unstable decision of ordering a new phone as if it was going to be delivered same day.

Until you heard a slight click and a door opening.

There were times thunder struck, but it definitely did not beat the way your heart almost leaps into your throat as you hear the door opening.

You pause in your steps, a deep breath stuck in your mouth as you cross the living room and peer through the door way.

The door swung open and you're met with the, one of the most gorgeous and relieving sights you may add, of Jenna standing there. Slightly damp and with an... angry? Expression on her face.

"Jenna!" You blurted out, rushing over to her and enveloping her in a tight hug. "Did Josh fill you in? I feel terrible for getting home early, I'm so sorry. There was this whole thing I had to deal with, then the rain came pouring down, and I thought I'd at least get you a cab—"

"Shh. Just stay still. And preferably quiet."

When she's in your arms, she melts in the warmth of the comfort you bring to her. "Guess you caught the cab." You whisper under your breath.

You notice her breathing slowing down, the tension in her body easing away, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she buries her head in your neck. A sway the both of you took upon as she tugged at your chest with her hands wrapped around your body.

Jenna felt and smelled like home. Maybe heaven really is real if you're back in her arms after death.

"Is everything okay? Did something go down on set while I was away? Oh, Jenna, I'm so—" You start to pull back, placing your hands on her shoulders.

"Y/n, push me away, I fucking dare you, I'll bring down hell upon this godforsaken world."

You hesitate, but her gaze wants nothing more than to be in your arms. Who were you to deny her?

With a gentle squeeze of her shoulders, you pull her back into your arms. You weren't much taller than Jenna, in fact, just an inch or two apart. You loved that about eachother, like the two of you were a perfect fit.

Minutes pass, the only sound of the soft rhythm of Jenna's breathing and your heartbeat became a melody to your ears.

"I'm gonna hard launch the both of us right fucking now."

Well, that definitely caught you off-guard.

"Something happened?"

"You weren't on set for like hours! And everyones got too damn annoying for my ears to even process so I was trying to look for you, but then I ended up insulting Emma and the others, then I called you my lovely neighbor because I almost ended up saying you're my lover so I had to cover for it!"

"...That's quite a handful. I'm sorry I wasn't there, baby."

Even so, you knew that Jenna wasn't ready for a public relationship, not now that everyone was currently holding her at a social and cyber gunpoint with her life.

And even back then, you were the first one in the relationship who told her that the both of you would be better off if they both kept it private.

Even from their friends... And maybe more so families. Or maybe Jenna's. It's pretty hard to keep secrets from her family.

Obviously, look how that turned out.

Finally, Jenna murmurs something. "Sorry. It's been a rough day." Then she adds, almost as an afterthought, "Just without you."

You could almost kill yourself of the mere thought of even having to leaving Jenna the whole day.

"I—"

"Don't worry, I know you were busy with tech."

"Yeah. They got me wrapped up in their troubles, but 's all fine."

"Ever thought beating the complete shit out of them?"

"Jenna, you can't just say that!"

"But they've been literally hogging you from me! And I think that's completely unfair!"

"But you really shouldn't. You'd probably end up getting destroyed, especially with your height."

"Oh, but I definitely should. Besides, we're the same height, Y/n."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Okay, you know what, tempting as it sounds, I don't think violence is the answer."

She scoffs another time, a crease in her forehead. "Well, it's definitely an option worth considering."

After a moment of silence, you carry her to the living room, her legs dangling as you lift her from her feet and settle her onto the soft-cushioned couch.

You start to pull away once you set her down, stretching your body after a tense day, yet a certain someone was making grabby hands for you while shooting a look with her eyes begging you to stay.

"Y/n, don't you want to stay here with me?" She pulls you closer, locking her legs around yours.

Oh, Jenna knows damn well you couldn't resist her.

"Jenna, just relax," you gently tug her legs apart with your own, letting them fall as she permits, "I'll just get you some water."

She tugs at the hem of your shirt, "Then I'll come with!" Her smile almost comes back alive and she's already clinging onto your arm.

"Jenna. The love of my life."

"Y/n?"

"You're tired, stressed, snappy, grum—"

"Okay, I am not grumpy or snappy!" Jenna bites back almost immediately. "Why does everybody keep saying that?"

You shoot her a look. A yup-thats-why-look, and it's enough to get a pout to form on her lips.

"Grumpy, and you're still damp from the rain. I wouldn't be surprised if you wake up with a cold in the morning." You gently pat her head before sitting her back down. "I'll be quick, alright? You know I'm not going far just for a glass of water."

"Fine," Jenna huffs, "But you better hurry back! Ten seconds, tops!"

With a smile playing on your lips, you roll your eyes before making your way to the kitchen. And of course, Jenna's gaze from the couch was following you. You know patience was never Jenna's strong suit when it comes with you.

It wasn't even a few seconds before you heard,

"Y/nnnn!" Jenna's voice calls out from the living room, almost sounding like a groan and a whine.

It's almost amusing how someone as seemingly nonchalant yet sweet as Jenna could also be this puddle of affection and clinginess when it came to you.

You chuckle to yourself before quickly making your way back to her, holding out the glass of water for her.

"That was well over ten seconds." Jenna remarks, downing the water in one go before setting the glass on the coffee table. Then, she pulls you back towards her, and before you know it, you're both collapsing onto the couch.

"Well, I thought I did great." You say before Jenna tackles you into a very tight hug.

Leaning back against the cushions, you let out a sigh, feeling the everything slowly melting away when she's in your arms. Jenna inches closer, resting her head on your chest as you wrap an arm around her, holding her close.

"Hug me tighter, y/n." She murmurs softly, almost demanding if she didn't have a soft melody to her voice, her body warm against yours and her breathing seemed to be in sync with your own.

"You'll die if I do." You sigh contentedly.

Jenna lets out a huff, her breath warm against your skin and her scent was all too comforting. That earthy rain smell and her aromatic fragrance. "You know that I don't mind," she replies, "Of course you'd think I'd care if I died in your arms."

You laugh, shaking your head. "You're impossible, Jenna." You shake your head once against, ruffling her hair as you give her an extra squeeze before loosening your hold slightly to let her breathe.

"You want dinner?" You whisper to her after, not even above a decibel just for her to relax. "I didn't get the chance to stop by at the bakery."

"Please," comes Jenna's response.

You know what a full-on smile with dimples from her sounds and feels like when she has that hopeful and happy tune to her otherwise grumpy voice today.

You slowly pull yourself back up, gently pushing Jenna off your chest. And also unknowingly pulling a koala trapped in a 5'1, 22 year old body named Jenna Ortega clinging onto your back.

"Jenna."

She buries her head into the crook of your neck, eyes half-lidded. "Mmm… Yeah?" It's honestly surprising how she can actually and literally attach herself to you.

"Jenna, you have to let go so I can cook." Even as you ask her to release herself, you adjust to her weight on your back, carefully making your way to the kitchen, your hands securely holding onto her legs.

"You can cook just fine, Y/n," she whines, "You have two arms."

"And you," you reply, gently patting her legs, "have two legs and two arms. I can't cook with you piggybacking, baby."

You can tell the nickname made her smile. "Yeah, but I don't have a built-in Y/n in my system that I can cuddle with all day. So please just let me be."

"No, Jenna—You're gonna get hurt."

You reach the kitchen and gently lower Jenna from her back, setting her down on the kitchen island.

Her arms still lingered around your neck for a moment before she reluctantly, and against her will so it seems, lets go. "You know how frantic I am when I cook."

"Then maybe, you're not a good cook."

"I'm trying to keep my girlfriends, which is you, may I add, life out of harms way."

"Maybe that's the reason why you're not a good cook."

"Jenna."

Grabby hands, once again, making a return and tugging you by your shirt collar. But this time, you resist.

"Whyyyyyyy?" she whines, her bottom lip jutting out in a Jenna Ortega fashionable pout. "Do you hate me, Y/N?"

You roll your eyes playfully before booping her on the tip of her nose. "I'm cooking you a meal to show that I love you, baby." You pull back yourself and put on an apron standing off side to the fridge, Jenna's gaze could almost burn holes into the fabric.

"Okay." She sighs, dropping her head down. "Okay, fine! Can I just hold your hand?" She looks up to see you standing in front of her, wearing the cutest apron with the well-known kiss the chef quote.

A faint blush spreads across her freckled face, and you couldn't help but smile at her.

You can't really cook with one hand that properly. But if Jenna wants you to cook for her even if you had your hands surgically removed from your body, then so fucking be it. A few missing limbs can't top a few smiles from your girlfriend.

"Alright, baby." You place take her hand and lead her to the stove where it seemed like you've got everything prepared. "Just get behind me when there's oil splashing, mkay?"

A few minutes pass by with Jenna's hand in yours while you cook. Her head leans against your shoulder as she stands close.

Between the two of you, Jenna was always the one who takes over the cooking part of the relationship, no matter how much you insist cooking for her. But you're grateful and very fortunate now that she's allowing you to take over. Plus, Jenna keeps you entertained with her witty remarks and random stuff about her day.

Oh, what a life you're living in.

"You didn't cook for yourself?" Jenna's voice interrupts your thoughts as you plate a serving of salmon topped with herbs, accompanied by sliced lemon and a few kiwis. With the skin left on, of course, just how she likes it. Only for your loving girlfriend.

You shake your head, taking her hand and her plate in the other, leading her to the dining table. "I'm good. I had a late lunch earlier," you reply, gently placing the plate on the table and sitting her down. "Besides, it's not often I get to cook for you. It wouldn't be as special if I cooked for myself too."

Jenna's eyes almost appear teary as she looks at you. "Please never show yourself again in public. I seriously cannot lose you." She replied almost immediately.

If you didn't miss it, you would've seen the adoration and love shining in Jenna's gaze. It's as if she wants to ditch the meal entirely and cover your face with kisses.

You swear you probably ate a seed in your chest by how you kept feeling warmth bloom in your heart at her. "How can I do that if I'm an actor?" You chuckle, "They'd probably question you first if I disappear."

Jenna takes her fork and points it at you, slicing a piece of salmon with her spoon. "Hey, I've seen the tweets about people practically drooling over you. It's like they're your lover and not mine!"

You crease your forehead, crossing your arms, "You get more thirst tweets more than I do!"

"And I believe you contribute to that percentage." She raises one eyebrow, smirking at your direction before chewing on another piece of salmon. It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

A factual one at that.

You almost choke at your own words. "Oh, you know me so well."

A sigh escapes your lips, your smile still in place. "Besides, we're not exactly public, are we?" Leaning in, you draw Jenna into your own little world. "You're the only one who gets the real me. If I leave, I'll cross my heart on my own and I'll die on my own."

Jenna looks at you while taking a bite of her salmon, chewing slowly as if she's contemplating something, a tug in her lips. "Mn, guess so."

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

You'd think you'd get some work done, maybe memorize future scripts or send out some emails to directors asking if you could audition for a show at one in the morning.

Instead, you're lying in bed with Jenna.

Or maybe a koala in this case.

In bed. Blankets over the both of you. Pillow's a bit too comfy to even think about getting up. Plus, the koala in question may or may not have hidden your phone and charger.

Jenna wasn't always a light sleeper. Sometimes, you'd wake up in the middle of the night to find her sitting up with a blanket draped over her entire body, furiously typing away in her notes app. It's endearing, but also makes you wonder if she's ever dabbled in witchcraft.

Now, she's wide awake to even be one.

Her eyes closed and her breathing steady enough to lull you asleep. The atmosphere is cozy, and so is your girlfriend laying atop of you.

Her arms were wrapped around yours for the millionth time while her head rests on her favorite part of your chest, her head staring off to the side as if she's trying to hear your heartbeat.

You thought she'd be passed out after dinner, but she dragged you by the cuffs of your hoodie and lead you to the bedroom.

"Jenna," you whisper not above even the slightest decibel, "I have work to do." The gentle rise and fall of her chest steadies in sync with yours, her head tilting slightly in the other way, and the grip she has on your body suddenly got tighter. It's already as if you'll fly away from her.

She huffs as she raises her head to face yours. "Your work—whatever that is—can wait, but I can’t." The room is dim, too dim, yet you could see the slight dip in her bottom lip.

You know you should focus, but with her so close, it's hard to think about anything else other than, 'Nah, fuck it. I'll live.'

You bring your hands up to cup her cheeks, gently brushing her messy fringe away from her face. Even in this dim light, you could see her freckles scattered across her face like vines making something so abandoned a painting.

Jenna sighs when she looks at you. "Y/n, how long are you gonna keep me playing the waiting game?"

"The waiting game? What even is that—"

"Can you kiss me?"

Oh. Her eyes become almost second nature to her words.

"Because I remember being woken up to the most gorgeous person ever but they didn't give me kisses, and I think—mpmhmmh..."

It took all your effort not to pull her into a kiss.

Obviously, your efforts were in vain.

Truth be told, you miss the way her lips hung on yours, she was perfect in every way. How her arms would wrap around you, how she'd reach up to tug on your jawline, tracing every thing you had offered her, how you would push back only for her to pull you closer.

The kiss soon ended with you and Jenna locking eyes. No words exchanged but the heavy breath the both of you took apart from eachother.

"—I think I might die..." Her words are breathless, her arms perfectly secured around your neck as you sit up.

You smile at her. "Well, I kept you alive, didn't I?"

"No," she breathes, taking hold of your cheeks before sitting up herself. "No, I'm still six feet underground if you don't continue what you were doing."

"You know, I'm starting to like the waiting game."

"Make me play that shit again, it'll be the last time you'll ever make a decision."

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

jennaortega

Liked by ememyers and 1,398,938 others jennaortega goodnight to my gorgeous gorgeous girl @.y/l/n x 6 hours ago

natalieortega1: My fav girls!

joysunday: what lovely neighbors we have here

ememyers: !?@#%%#?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

user: WE FUCKING KNEW IT

moosa_mostafa_: we never knew....

user: MY??????? MY???????? WHAT MY WHY MY?????????????????????

user: now how long....

georgieebleu: the coolest ever

user: WHATS IT FINNA PLAY??????

naomijogawa: two losers having a loser rs

user: having a heart attack holYHIST WHAT HT FUCK

user: literally stop.

hunterdoohan: Respect!!!!

user: shit so insane she got the whole cast to comment

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

In short, Jenna won. Plus, she got all the kisses and cuddles she wanted until the alarm hit. (When it did, your name was surprisingly all over social media along with Jenna.)

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x gnreader #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega

508 notes · View notes

tiredmamaissy · 8 months

Text

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode II

Concurrent Tides

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff. Most illustrations are now on her patreon.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19) Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, aggressive rut cycle, heat cycle, dom/sub dynamics, jealousy/posessiveness, knotting, marking, scenting, praise kink, breeding kink, size difference, p in v, mating/bonding, multiple climaxes, creampie, ralak is a bit of a meanie in this, let me know if I forgot anything? Word Count: 10k Requested: Yes || No Author’s Note: the second special episode is finally here. sorry it took forever to get it out, but better late than never :') i hope you guys enjoy <3 theres another part to come after this one! 🤍 Synopsis: what happens if you and your new mates cycles sync?

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——

“Only I knot you.”

That was the first time you’d ever seen Ralaks eyes shift in colour. That same night right after he pulled you out of his memory of his first rut. A beautiful, deep blue, glistening before your honey glazed orbs. It’s barely been a week since that night, yet it replays over and over. Day and night. How he looked at you with nothing but unadulterated greed, hardly catching his breath as he tried to steady his galloping heart. It was something deep-rooted and primal.

Something animalistic.

Since, you’ve longed to see him fully immersed in such a state. A state where self control and sexual desire no longer coexist. He’s always too concerned with you and what he thinks you can and cannot manage that he never allows himself to do what he truly wants. The level of restraint you feel through the bond is indescribable. A level you nor any other na’vi could conceivably attain. Regardless, most nights you find yourself fantasizing about this ‘lack of control’ right before bed.

Nights like tonight.

Where the stars shimmer so brightly that you need to draw the curtains, and the air is exceptionally cold and crisp that you need to huddle closely together for warmth. When your nose is buried so deep into his chest that there's no other choice for his scent to fill your lungs. And tonight he smells extraordinarily good. The salt of the sea mixed with leather hide. And oddly enough, he smells like… home. The forest and its greenery. It’s quite ironic but perhaps it’s Eywa’s way of saying that this man is truly yours. It's so comforting and right. Like a cup of hot tea on a stormy night, never failing to put you to sleep. A remedy that works in seconds — but not tonight.

Tonight you’re restless and he can sense it.

“What is it?” Ralak husks, shifting his position to hold you a little closer. “Cold?”

Truthfully, you’ve been feeling a little off. Your body has been restless and haunted. As if it could sense some sort of change of shift in the atmosphere. Or perhaps it was between the two of you. “No.” You mumble, lifting your head to look up at him. “Just can’t sleep.”

Ralaks ears twitch, a little surprised his typical soothing techniques aren’t working. He sits up quite quickly, bringing you up with him as he scoots back into frame of his bed. His brows lower when he ponders about what could be keeping you so on edge. He takes note of your flushed appearance and the minute changes in your eyes, they’re glowing a little brighter recently.

His brows jump when the realisation dawns on him.

Could it be? He knows it’s close but is it really already affecting you? How is that possible? And does that mean it will be even more severe this time around?

He had every intention to stay but perhaps it’ll be more difficult than he expected. He should really tell you, but he knows exactly how that would play out. You would get your way as per usual, it was hard for him to deny you of anything you wanted. A quick swish of your tail and it was yours. Ralak took pride in caring and providing for you. But not for this. This was just plain dangerous. And therefore he couldn’t allow you to figure it out. It’s ultimately safer that he keeps it to himself, at least until you’ve adjusted to him a little more. Your intimate moments together are very few in number after all.

“Why is that, tanhì?” He asks in a low, steady tone, fixing his mask of indifference tightly to his face.

You may be a slow learner, but you weren’t slow. You could sense that he wasn’t being all that transparent with you.

“I don’t know. Something feels off about you.” You say in an almost accusatory tone, finally sitting up to look him in the eye. He’s pale in the face and his breath becomes raggedy. “Tell me, Ralak.”

You watch as his pupils constrict, leaving nothing but a black dot in an open sea of blue. Within a matter of seconds, they deepen in colour and his eyelids flutter shut. He clears his throat, and waits a few seconds to open his eyes. They’re back to normal but you could’ve sworn they looked different. Just like they did a few nights ago.

“What just happened to your—” Your heart begins to race as you utter the words, only to be cut off by Ralaks hasty voice.

“Inland. Tomorrow morning. Overnight hunting trip.” He grinds them out as if it physically hurts to say the words. Anything to keep you from figuring it out.

What? Is he — lying to you?

This isn’t like him. He avoided trips inland at all costs. Anything to stay with his tanhí. He’d even go as far as faking an illness, despite rarely getting ill, to get out of accompanying Tonowari. Especially for overnight trips.

“And why did you not tell me earlier?” You manage to squeak out a closing throat, backing away to create a little distance.

He shakes his head as he blinks rapidly, staying put to allow as much space as you need. “I was hoping I did not need to go.” He utters, dropping his head to lock his gaze on your twiddling thumbs. His eyes trail up your dark blue frame, taking note of how your body is already almost trembling —already responding to him— all out of your control. He bows his head, hiding his face. “But it seems that I cannot get out of this one. I am sorry, my paysyul.”

For a fleeting moment, you really thought this was the beginning of something bad. Something deceitful. But, his words instantly bring you comfort, slowing your leaping heart and putting your mind at ease.

But the funny thing is that there was no lie.

There was really an overnight trip inland with Tonowari. One that Ralak arranged himself. Tonowari was especially taken aback by Ralaks suggestion of a hunting trip and immediately queried if he was alright, putting a firm hand on his forehead to determine if he had some sort of fever. But once Ralak explained himself, Tonowari was smiling and laughing, smacking a few blows on his back as a form of approval, teasing him yet again about ‘the love story between an Akula and an ilu’.

Your sigh brings Ralak out of his deep thought, chin leaving his chest to witness you sliding back into bed, turning on your side and backing up onto him. A smirk pulls at the his lips as he joins you, enveloping you in his warmth once more. A wave of relief washes over him as he rests his chin on the crown of your head. He’s thankful that you didn’t press any further. Otherwise, he would’ve had to reveal his best kept secret.

His upcoming rut.

——

The harsh thump of Ralaks heart rouses him to the sight of his mate clung to his chest. He admires your beauty, allowing his eyes to fall on your chest, watching closely as you breathe slowly. He gently pulls back the thin sheeting covering your body, exposing your puffy nipples to the cool morning air. When they stiffen into peaks, saliva pools in his mouth. At this point he would have looked away because of basic na’vi decency, but this morning is different.

He allows himself to stare. To take in every detail on your chest. To sear it into his memory so he can visualise you just like this as he relieves himself. Exposed before his eyes, supple skin glistening as the rays of sunlight reflect against your freckles, exposed, stiffened nipples, that act as the perfect bait to lure in a hungry predator.

Predator.

That’s what he’ll be in a matter of minutes. Nothing but a slave to his own urges and instincts. Ravenous. Insatiable. Voracious. With not even a sliver of self composure left to hold onto an ounce of rationality. He can already feel it creeping up on him, the hunger deep in his core turning him into the beast that he appears to be on the outside. It’s always been like this. A little too much. Too overwhelming.

Too aggressive.

And as the years passed it only worsened. Six unmated years. With no one but himself to make it through the tortuous few days. He just knows that he would be too rough with you. It’s his biggest fear, after all. To have no self control. To hurt the one thing he loves more than Eywa’s gift of life itself. He would sacrifice his own (life) if it meant to save yours.

He was hoping to endure it. Bite his tongue through it and be by your side. Perhaps take a long bath in the lake and crawl into bed after you’ve gone to sleep and relieve himself as quietly as he can. But now that it’s here in full bloom, he’s already having a hard time containing his urge to spread your legs and use you as his own personal fucktoy.

But you’re more than that to him.

And this is why he’s choosing to leave before you wake. Before he can no longer contain himself to just staring at your bare chest. Before he pulls the sheet down even further and parts your legs—already trembling from his leaking pheromones—and has a taste of his sweet, sweet tanhí. Rather, he uses his last shred of self composure to plant a firm kiss on your forehead before quickly gathering his gear and heading out the door.

Unbeknownst to him, you were awake the entire time.

You could feel his eyes bore into your tiny frame as the crisp morning air grazed past your nipples, just like you could feel the roughness of his kiss right above your brow. You wanted to open your eyes but the way his pheromones waft up your nose had you in a foggy trance. Your eyes burned under your eyelids and your body felt so heavy and hot.

You couldn’t help but think, is this his rut?

To be influenced by his cycle? You had felt it before. His first rut in the flashback, but it was nothing like this. Sure, it had you shivering and a little on edge but this was to another level. You could barely open your eyes, much less get out of bed. This entire time your body has been sending warning signals that its mate was peaking in his cycle — restlessness, clinginess, the nesting. You had unknowingly gathered enough fruits and grains to last you a few days. Even in this murky state of mind you finally manage to link the pieces of the puzzle together.

Listening to his footsteps as he walks out the marui, you muster up as much strength as you can to open your eyes. It’s blurry and honestly all just one blob. You could only make out a few colours trailing behind this gentle giant—green, blue and orange. All of which mix together and move like the aurora in the night sky. If one could see what a pheromone looks like, this would be it. When you finally get enough strength to part your chapped lips to mutter his name, the colours disappear as the marui flap closes behind him.

You really thought that once he left and the room aired out, that the influence of his pheromones on your body would lift as well. But you were wrong. Instead, the heaviness of your body grew tenfold, making it hard to breathe. It’s as if your lungs were filled to the brim with cold water, yet they burned as you squirmed around to fill them with air. The fire in your lungs quickly spread to your extremities, leaving your entire being in a sweltering inferno.

This feeling is familiar, yet foreign all at once. A desire so extreme it burns from within. The desire to be connected with your mate on all levels known to the na’vi. To satiate the itch of your empty, fertile womb by filling it with his seed.

Why did you have to get your heat now?

You call for Ralak a few times in your dazed state, only for you to be reminded by nothing but the crash of the waves that he’s gone. Soon the heavy rumble of the waves is drowned out by your whimpers and whines as you call for your mate to no avail. All you can manage to do in your feverish haze is kick off whatever cloth is stuck to your body, curl into a ball and rock to ease the unbearable sensation between your legs.

All until you hear a familiar, husky voice.

“I was doing some sessions with Ronal and—”

“R-Ralak?” You call out in relief, hoping your prayers have finally been answered. You roll onto your side and squint at the figure in the door frame.

“Uh. Not quite.” He quickly mutters under his breath, moving his forearm to shield his nose from your strong pheromones wafting his way. “Eywa—” He mumbles the great mothers name like a curse as he looks around the marui for your mate. “Where is Tak?”

Tak?

The more you squint your eyes, the more you’re able to make out who this figure standing in your doorway is. Your blurred vision clears just enough to reveal the unforgettable, brawny features of no other than Ka’ani.

“Ka’ani?” You say the name slowly, unsure if you should believe your eyes.

“Hah. What do you know…” Ka’ani scoffs, moving his arm from his face to lean in to get a better look at your condition. You’re panting yet shivering, glazed in your own sweat and slick. He smirks a little as he pulls back, spitting out the words, “…bitch in heat.”

“What are you... d-doing here? You should leave!” You try to shout, although it comes out more as a hoarse cry.

“Why should I? It looks like you need a hand.” Ka’ani jesters, physically extending his hand towards you as he wiggles his thickset fingers.

“Haa. I really don’t.” You pant, hugging your knees to your chest even tighter.

“You’re sitting in a puddle of your own sweat.” Ka’ani’s voice is harsh, yet laced with concern. “And whatever else is coming out of you.” His jaw clenches and unclenches as he looks away from you, seemingly out of — respect? He catches sight of the full bucket of fresh water at your bedside, along with empty drinking bowls.

Has she not been tended to all day? Not a sip to drink? Ka’ani thinks to himself, concerned as to why Tak’s mate would be alone, uncared for and in heat of all things.

You finally muster up the energy to tug the sodden sheet over your naked body and scoot back further to the frame of the bed. “Ralak said he will be back soon. You should leave if y-you want to live.” You lie, feeling a little threatened that a male na’vi has barged into your marui while you’re in heat.

“Yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, y/n. None of this makes sense.” Ka’ani speaks, taking a few steps towards you.

You shuffle even further back only for your back to make contact with the bed frame. A rush of fear surges through you. The type of fear that has your heart twisting behind your ribs. You cross your legs over one another, bunching up the sheet between them and beg with trembling lungs, “P-Please, Ka’ani. Don’t.”

Ka’ani stops dead in his tracks, seemingly offended by your assumption that he’d be approaching you to do something that the great mother herself would look down upon. Sure, he tracked your scent last time, but he was here atone exactly for that.

“Syor [relax]. I would never do such a thing.” He says through gritted teeth, storming towards the bedside and quickly pouring you a drink. “No matter how strong your scent is. Although, you don’t smell all that great now that you’re mated.” He chuckles lightly as he hands you the drink. Your eyes jump between him and the cup in his hand before you struggle to sit up. His hand instinctively reaches out to assist you, but you bat it away and continue to pull yourself up.

“Just — let me help you.” He snaps, supporting your back when you finally give in. “Drink.” He commands, plunking the cup in your hand, taking a step back and crossing his arms.

You gulp down the water greedily, finally quenching your thirst and hoping it will provide some level of relief to your febrile condition. You hum to yourself as the water makes its way down your throat, but groan when you feel no better. Meanwhile, Ka’ani takes in your state, feeling a twinge in his heart for you when he sees how you’ve been suffering. You look more than uncomfortable. You look like you’re in pain.

“You’ll be alright, y/n. Just tell me where he went and I’ll go fetch him.” He speaks in a more gentle tone, taking the empty cup from your hand.

“I-I don’t — haah. He said he went… He went inland to hunt.” You blubber out, feeling your body heat to a dangerous degree. It has you shaking as you ease yourself back into a more comfortable position.

Ka’ani shakes his head a bit, “Inland to hunt? Really? When his mate is in heat? Tak would never. The only time he’d ever do that is if he is also… in rut.” Ka’ani stalls on the last few words that slip off his tongue, tasting them in his mouth as the realization sets in. Ka’ani quickly fills the cup, sets it next to you and bolts to the door. Before he ducks under the flap of your Marui, he looks over his shoulder and reassures you.

“Sit tight, forest girl. I know exactly where he is.”

— —

It’s been a few hours since coming to his usual spot — the waterfall with the coldest water known to the reef people. It is Ralaks most private and intimate place aside from his humble abode. A place where only a select few people know about. He’s most drawn to the low temperature of the water, making it a perfect environment to endure the heat of his rut in.

Despite doing this for the past few years, each cycle gets a little more intense. And this one is certainly no exception.

Ralak sits underneath the overhang, right in the dip of the plunge pool, and allows the water to beat on his back. He’s maintained this position for the past few hours, only releasing himself when the pressure in his core grows too much. A pressure so immense it would have his body acting on its own accord — a wandering hand finding its way to his swollen cock.

Truth be told, he hated the feeling.

He hated feeling so out of control. To be nothing but a slave to his own primal impulses. He’d fight it as much as he could, just like he is now, until the sensation is just too intense to ignore. Until he’s grunting and squirming with a body so heated it has him grinding his teeth.

He quickly stands up, tilting his head back and covering his face from the stream of the water with his hands. At this point his cock is so swollen that it’s outright painful, throbbing and pulsing from the lack of attention. He thinks of you — your thin tail and tiny stature. The way you lay in bed this morning before he left. Naked and exposed before his eyes. Eywa, how he wishes you were here. How he could finally spend his rut with his mate, but he just knows it would be too much for you to handle.

The thoughts of you make this no easier, sending his hips thrusting into the air — the running water stimulating his thudding cockhead. He groans from the immense pleasure a little water brings him. He’s neglected himself so badly to the point that he feels like this could really make him cum. But how many times has he cum by now?

Once? Twice? Thrice?

He lost count after the fifth time, not that he was keeping track anyways. If anything he was downright denying himself the pleasure, and convincing himself that he remained in control. But fuck, the image of your delicate body —the possibility that he could break you if he weren’t careful— pushes him over the edge. Before he can stop himself, his hot cum is spilling from his slit all over the length of his cock and he’s unable to keep his noises at a minimum.

“Mmmph.” His deep growl rumbles, a hand grabbing a firm hold of his jumping cock.

He squeezes what’s left out of his slit, finally looking down to see the state of himself. It’s red and raw — spikes fully erect and balls drawn so close to his body they’re practically hiding behind his thick knot. He lets out a loud sigh.

Relief.

Finally, he leans back against the rocky wall and slides down into the plunge pool, immersing himself chest deep into the water. He lightly treads back to the bank and makes himself comfortable — allowing his head to rest and body to relax. He takes a few deep breaths and tunes into the burble of the waterfall.

All until he hears the click of a —

Ka’ani?

“Tik-Tak.” Ka’ani clicks melodically, cautiously approaching the giant submerged in the waterfall. Ralak doesn’t budge. He remains fixed in position, eyes shut, head and elbows resting on the edge of the river. His chest heaves harshly as he attempts to remain in this less than tranquil state. “Never thought I’d see the day Ralak leaves his mate in heat. To be soaking in a waterfall of all things.”

Perhaps Ralak heard wrong. Leaving his mate in heat? Ralak would know if his mate were in heat. He would sense it. Whatever rubbish he’s spewing out, Ralak doesn’t have the time, nor patience, for it.

“Skxawng, what are you on about? Leave me be.” Ralak huffs, wiping the sweat from his face with a quick hand movement.

“Just as I thought. You’re all hot and bothered too, aren’t you?” Ka’ani chuckles.

“Leave.” Ralak says angrily, his purplish-blue eyes finally snapping up to meet Ka’ani’s. “I have just calmed.”

Ka’ani’s brows knit together, offended and a little confused with himself for being upset from the way Ralak is shooing him away.

“Oh c’mon brother. All I’ve been told today is to leave!” Ka’ani’s hands fly up as he takes a step forward. “First your mate, and now you. Am I really that unwanted?”

Now he’s got Ralaks attention.

Ralak gets a whiff of your sweet, sweet pheromones on him. As if he’s been around his tanhì. Scenting his tanhì. Touching his tanhì. His primal urges devour him once more, eating away at him until nothing but a possessive beast remains. One of pure territorial instinct.

“What did you do?” Ralak growls through a clenched jaw as he jumps out the water and approaches Ka’ani. “Scenting my mate again?” His voice booms as it increases in volume, yet lowers in depth. “Answer me. Did you touch her?!”

“No!” Ka’ani blurts out, now taking a few steps back with his hands splayed out in front of him. “Is that what you both really think of me? This is the last I ever do some—”

Ralak remains silent, taking quick, calculated strides directly towards Ka’ani, who is now backing up into a tree. Once his back hits the scaly bark, Ralaks' balled fist slams into the trunk, barely an inch away from Ka’ani’s skull.

“Alright! Alright. I know what I did before. I-I’m sorry. I came looking for you to apologise for that but I found her in heat. Okay? I came here as soon as I realized.”

Unsure of whether or not to believe a word coming from this skxawng’s mouth, Ralak steps away from his prey, bloody knuckled and full of uncertainty. But the one thing he is certain about is the fact that he wants no other na’vi to find you if you really are in heat. With a huff of defeat, he pushes past Ka’ani and bolts for the shore.

——

The trek back to the marui is twice as quick. Your pheromones are thick and potent, affecting him even a few feet away from the marui door. And when he steps through the marui door, he’s completely inundated with the thick fog of your pheromones. He feels lost in himself, struggling not to succumb to his instincts. Struggling to regain control.

“Ma’ L-Lak?” You mewl shakily.

You can smell him, just like he can smell you. It only drives you further into your heat, your trembling body now shaking a little more. Sensing that your mate is in close proximity, your scent glands release more of your aphrodisiac to lure him in. In turn, this has its effects on your body — sending you into a submissive state where you feel too heavy to even lift a finger. You lay there, legs splayed out and glossy fingered.

You watch through blurred vision as the tall and thick silhouette quickly makes its way towards you. Ralak grabs and firmly holds your legs back as he leans in close, making the confirmation that his mate is indeed in heat. He lingers a little longer than he can control, taking everything in him to pull away and calm down — panting and out of breath.

“It is true.” He huffs, towering over your tiny, shivering frame. “In heat.” The two words drip off his tongue, much like the thick nectar dripping from your slit.

“Lak. Oh — lak. ’ts you.” You cry out in relief, clawing at his thigh to bring him back to you, “‘m so happy it’s you ‘nd not someone else.” His teeth grit as your hand grazes his thigh, but he remains fixed in place, unsure of his ability to keep his composure if he allows himself to give in to your touches.

What is he supposed to do now?

He didn’t think this far into his plan… for once in his life. Typically he’s quite calculated and certain of his next move but now — now he’s not sure how he’s going to deal with this. He just knew that he couldn’t leave you alone. Not for another man to find and claim you in the way that only he should. But he has to remain himself. For you. He swallows down his uncertainty before speaking.

“I should have stayed.” He looks down at the flushed, puffy flesh between your legs with a rapacious glint in his eye. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just p-please. It’s to-o much. T-Too hot. It aches, karyu.” Ralak winces when you groan the last few words, it’s almost painful to resist you at this point. You go to claw at this thigh once more, only for him to shift away. “No, don’t do that. Not right now. N-Need you so ba—”

“My rut came. This morning.” He’s quick to cut you off with a strained, yet monotonous voice, unable to peel his eyes away from your swollen cunt.

“I-I know.” You pant, earning a twitch of Ralaks brows. “‘nd t-that’s good. Ngh—that’s really good, I-I can help you too.” You mumble, sticking your hand between your legs to fondle with yourself. With the way he grimaces one side of his face, it seems as if he wants to look away, but can’t.

“No, tanhì. We spoke of this.” His accent is thick as he struggles to string the words together, “No control. Trying hard…” he inhales quickly, eyes plastered to the sight in front of him, “…not to lose it.”

At this point the haze of your heat has you lethargically shaking your head from side to side, mumbling whatever frustrated-fueled words that first come to you “…haven’t cum yet…”, you squirm around to find a position that allows your wandering fingers better access to your hole, “…need to cum.” You slur the words as you barely slip two fingers inside you and you quietly sob when they provide very little release.

“Ralak!” You cry loudly enough to at last lure his gaze up to yours, the night sea finally meeting the roaring flame. Your voice quiets down into a soft whimper, “Please. Just t-try. Please.”

A moment of silence passes where you and Ralak stare at one another, hearts pounding and chests heaving, understanding exactly how the other feels. The burning desire to come together. The resistance, yet the lack of control. The eternal flame within. The heat.

Ralak breaks eye contact to glance at your slender fingers working as hard as they can. He breathes a heavy sigh, feeling a pang of guilt for leaving you when he sees just how raw you are from being in heat all alone. He’s responsible for you even being in this bad of a state, isn’t he? Leaving you before sunrise with nothing but a kiss on the head. If anything that only made it more intense for you. He wants to — no, needs to care for you. It’s what every part of himself is urging him to do.

“The thought of another finding you… like this.” Ralak rasps as he closes in on you, “so vulnerable… it makes me — haah.” He cuts himself off with a shaky sigh and a clench to his jaw. Beads of sweat ball on his temples, slowly rolling down his angular jaw to eventually meet and drip from his chin onto your stomach. He looms over you, his hair flowing forward when he suddenly grabs and tugs at your wrist in one swift move, yanking your fingers out of you.

“Ss-ah!” You hiss with a wince, heart skipping a beat when you realise that he’s barely there anymore. “I-It makes you, what?” You ask quietly — nervously, even.

A bestial growl begins to rumble in his chest, causing a shiver to ripple through you—hardening your nipples into peaks within seconds. Jawbone fluttering from his reluctance to answer, he harshly cups your pussy with his hand, causing you to gasp. His sharp, intimidating stare locks with yours, brows tensing as he allows two, thickset fingers to slip down to your slickened opening. His growl fades into a single, drawn out word.

“Nìfmokx. [jealous]”

His admission slips past his lips just as his fingers sink into your aching core, leaving your mouth agape and hot tears spilling over your cheeks. Jealousy isn’t an emotion Ralak is used to feeling. Much less something he would subject you to experience with him. But you could see the raw emotion in his eyes, as they flicker from a dark blue to something even deeper. It’s the way his stare bores into your innermost being as he fills you up with his digits alone, telling you that you were his, and his only.

He hooks his fingers right into your gummy walls, holding his position as he moves his hand in an up and down motion at full tilt. The tips of his fingers repeatedly slam into your swelling sweet spot, coaxing out broken, filthy noises from your throat. He hums with pride, yet his face remains stone cold, minus the occasional twitch of his jawbone. He’s trying so hard to keep at a steady pace, and not to be too rough with your fragility.

“Oh f-fuck.” You curse under your breath, both hands grabbing a firm hold of his forearm. You’ve been unintentionally edging yourself all day that you’re already almost there. And no matter how hard you squeeze and claw at his now-veiny arm, he remains unmoving.

“Go on, then.” He huffs impatiently as he looks down at you, feeling your walls clamp down on his fingers. Your heels sink into the bed when you push your hips into the air, fingernails digging into his skin as you near your first release. You begin to whimper, bucking your hips to chase the feeling of relief. It’s right there. It’s so close; and you just need to allow it to wash through you. You tense up so badly your whole body shakes, sending your teeth chattering and your bottom lip quivering. You swear you can see the stars from the night sky litter your vision and feel your heavy lids flutter shut.

“Look at me.” Ralak demands in a sharp, gruff tone. Your glossy eyes shoot back up to his, and you start to sputter out whatever gibberish comes from your mouth — a few curses mixed with his name and your fathers’ mother-tongue. He continues to glare down at you with a rigid face, tensing his jaw as he wills himself to be gentle and patient with you. “Good. Now cum, little one.”

Your pathetic noises suddenly fade into a sweet, little cry. A cry of relief when your frustration washes away as you finally come undone on his fingers. The alleviation is so intense that it’s almost consuming; “T-Thank—” you collapse back down onto the bed, “—you. Thank you—haah, thank you karyu.” You pant repeatedly, his forearm ripping from your grip when he unexpectedly wrenches his fingers out of you. You squirm from the sudden emptiness, “Wait—”

“Do not thank.” He spits the accented words as he stumbles back to create some distance between the two of you. He pants as he attempts to recollect himself, his face of stone finally screwing into something of a grimace. “So…if another na’vi found you, would you thank him too? Hm?”

“Lak. I… N-No.” You stutter, unsure of what to even say.

“You are mine. My mate…” he growls through thinned lips, “My duty. Understand?”

“Yes.” You nod quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. It arouses you to see him so jealous. So possessive. So assertive.

Ralak slams his eyes shut and gulps so hard it’s audible —visible even. You could see the bump in the column of his throat quickly undulate, his chest heaving harshly and his shoulders dramatically rising and falling with each breath he struggles to take. And for a while, there’s nothing but silence and his heavy breathing that you feel the overwhelming need to break it.

“Ralak.”

Your trembling, tiny voice snapping his head back up to you, once tightly closed eyes now flying open to reveal the most beautiful shade of mauve. They pierce into you like a spear through an unsuspecting prey, full of nothing but pure, unadulterated greed.

You never thought you’d see them again except in that vision. You get lost in them for a little, studying how the gold ring around his blown pupils still remains even in a sea of indigo.

You sense that he’s in the thick of his rut now and you need to relieve him soon, like he did for you. Or only Eywa knows what will happen. You allow yourself to finally take in the man before you in full, eyes trailing down his sweaty, muscular physique — perfectly carved v-lines and six fingered tattoo — until they land on his aching cock.

Oh, fuck. Is he bigger? You think, admiring his mushroomy head and erect spikes. It’s oozing and dripping, unable to keep still from how hard it’s pulsing. It’s at least an inch bigger than usual.

You look away to study his facial expression and by the way he’s looking at you, you can tell he’s waiting for your command, trying his hardest to prevent himself from pouncing on you and fucking you senseless right here and now. You’ve never seen him this way before. Straining so hard to keep himself in one position and struggling to keep his hands to himself.

“Ralak… More.” You spread your legs as wide as they can go, holding them apart by the bend of your knees, exposing yourself completely. His heavy lidded eyes widen almost as much as your legs, pointed ears flicking upwards in excitement when he sees you assume such a vulnerable and submissive position.

“Y/n.” He groans, voice thick with arousal and want and maybe a little desperation as he takes in the sweet sight of your still-pulsing and swollen clit poking out between your folds. “I am… losing control.”

Hearing your name fall from his lips in this way — this tone, instantaneously reignites the flame in your core. In seconds your slit is practically dripping, forming a pool of your slick underneath you. “Good.” You pant as you stare up into his slit-like pupils. You swallow quickly before mustering up the courage to invite the beast in. “Now…remind me who I belong to.”

How could he resist now?

With the way you’re talking and your pheromones so pungent that they fill his lungs to the brim with no space for any other option but to fall into the thick of his rut. Before you can formulate another thought in your foggy state, Ralak has your legs pinned back and is diving nose first into your cunt.

He wastes no time to have his fill of you, lapping up your juices so desperately your body moves from the force of his licks. He has been wanting to taste you ever since you made a mess on his fingers, fuck — ever since he got a whiff of your scent from outside his marui door, but denied himself the pleasure in the case he couldn’t stop himself from going any further. But now, all restraint and denial is now left out at that very door.

The flat of his tongue trails up your inner thigh and then back to your folds, tasting a mixture of the sweetness of your slick and the saltiness of your sweat. He groans when his tongue finally grazes past your clit, feeling it throb against his taste buds. He lingers there for a while, swirling and sucking on you until he unlatches to come up for a quick breath of air.

“Fucking ftxìlor [delicious].” He gasps out a curse, shoving your legs even further back to have seconds of his meal.

It becomes evident that he’s doing this for himself. Because if he were doing this solely for you, he would have made you cum by now. He’s eating you out as if he’s been starved for weeks, sucking and popping off your clit just to lap up the sweet, sticky nectar seeping from your hole just to coat his tongue.

He’s nowhere near as quiet as he usually is, grunting and groaning as he swallows your juices. His fingernails dig into your thighs as he tries to keep himself from being too rough with your tiny, dainty body. But, his attempts prove to be futile once you feel your hips lift off the ground from his grip tightening around your thighs. You stare at the sight of your mate between your legs, crinkling his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut as he can’t stop himself from indulging in his urges.

“Fuck me!” You let out a frustrated moan, your heat having you so on edge you need to cum again.

His eyes fly open, and within moments he’s tucked under your hips, pelvises flush together as he rests his throbbing, neglected cock between your folds. His tip touches your belly button with ease, beads of precum oozing out of his slit one after the next.

“This is what you want, yes?” He bucks his hips into you, the tip of his cock smearing his slick all over your deep blue skin.

“Fuck, yes.” You whisper shakily, chin meeting your chest to look at the masterpiece he’s painting on you. “I want my mates cock.”

He only responds with a rough growl, flipping you over and pushing you onto your stomach.

“Oh shit.” You mutter under your breath, a little afraid of what you’ve gotten yourself into. But you trust Ralak.

You know that even in rut he would never hurt you. Not intentionally, at least. Of course this is not to say that he would be gentle —you expect that anything but.

With a firm hand to your upper back, his body is pressed against yours and his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He breathes in deeply through his nose, holding it in his lungs, and then letting out a hot, shaky breath against your skin, finally allowing himself to really take in your scent.

He almost becomes drunk off it— at least it feels that way for him. Your scent has him feeling like he’s downed two full bottles of fermented fruit with no chasers in between and he simply can’t get enough of it.

Hand moving swiftly from your back to your head, he pins your face to the bed as he trails his tongue along your jawbone to the nape of your neck. He lingers a little longer than he can help, suckling on and grazing his pointed canines against the skin. It sends shivers down your spine until your tail curls into the air and back arches in complete submission. You push back into him, feeling his hardened length pressed between the swell of your ass and base of your tail.

Fuck, you just want it inside you already.

“Lifting your tail for me, hm?” He huffs, puckering his lips against your skin and suckling tenderly. You can feel the emptiness creep back in, and that maddening itch deep in your womb. You moan softly, like a low hum under your breath, which only riles him up more. He feels like he wants to make you his all over again.

To mate with you.

To mark you as his in every way so that no other man would even dare look your way. Without warning, Ralak pushes up off you, his sinewy arms caging you in with one hand binding your wrists and the other keeping your head pinned to the bed. His legs hold yours down, his knees locking your ankles in place.

“You belong to me.” He growls next to your ear, his hand abruptly leaving your head to reach for the base of his skull for his kuru. With a quick tug, he brings it over his shoulder and pops it into his mouth to hold with his teeth. He reaches for your kuru that lies innocently in the dip of your back, and brings it towards his mouth.

A wave of anxiety washes over you when the image of Ka’ani finding you earlier in your own mess flashes before you. You can’t help but wonder if he would see that if he made tsaheylu right now. Imagine how he’d react when he realizes Ka’ani saw you naked and covered in slick? Your body squirmed at the mere thought, only making Ralak tighten his grip on you.

“Wait!” Is all you could blubber out before you feel the connection —the bond. Your eyes bulge when you feel him surge through you, two minds becoming one. It takes you by surprise, he’s never one to hastily or unexpectedly make tsaheylu with you. But tonight he makes the bond as if you were a tsurak to be tamed.

What he sees next drives him further into his territorial urges — your interaction with Ka’ani. The way Ka’ani barged into his home. How he saw your naked, vulnerable body. The fear that you felt when another man invaded your space. When he helped you. Innocently touched you.

“He touched you.” He says between pants, a mixture of emotions washing over him all at once. But the sharp pang of your heat transferring through tsaheylu has him entirely succumbing to his own urges and carnal instincts.

He’s simply not there.

His hips start bucking uncontrollably and his cock is poking and prodding at your puffy folds. The crown of his cock jabs at your clit a few times before finally parting your folds and with a quick snap of his hips he’s probing your entrance.

It stings when his swollen cockhead breaks past the resistance of your tightness, and he can’t help but lay hold of your hip and hiss from how tiny you feel. This is the first he’s ever had his cock stuffed inside a pussy during his rut. The feeling is all-consuming and he unapologetically yearns for more.

Hips snapping back, he pops his cockhead out of you only to shove it back in again. And again. And again until he’s repeatedly using your tight, little hole as nothing more than a fucktoy for his own self pleasure.

He leans back to take in the hazy sight, admiring the way your hole stretches perfectly to accommodate the sheer thickness of his cock. And when he sees the mushroomy part of his head slowly emerge he can’t help the way his hips stutter just to sink it back inside you.

It’s torturous, not having all of him inside you when that’s what your body is pining for most. He’s so much bigger than normal and you know that this is an itch that only he can scratch. “God—” You whine the foreign word, “—just fuck me already!”

“Agh. Quiet.” He lets out an irritated grunt, both hands flying to your hips to shove you down onto his cock — a loud, audible smack permeating the air when your sticky pelvises collide.

It almost overpowers the hoarse yet piercing cry that escapes your quivering lips. You’re so tender that the sudden stretch is too intense and with no time to adjust to his size you find yourself shuddering like you did after he took your innocence —your virginity.

His head dips back in ecstasy just when his tip kisses your cervix, his eyes screwed shut as he tries not to spray his seed inside your womb right now. His fingers sink into your skin, surely leaving bruises behind that will last for weeks.

“Hngh — woman.” He groans longingly, dropping his head forward and opening his ineberated eyes to witness how your cunt is sucking in every single inch of his cock with glee.

He grinds himself inside you, tugging at your hips and pushing against the resistance as if he were trying to stuff more of his cock inside you. Your high-pitched shrill fades out into a pathetic little whimper, your wobbly elbows and knees struggling to keep you up.

It’s all too much and your fucked out mind goes blank. You can’t even process how your body is submitting to its owner and his rough touches, opening itself up to be bred already. You sense what’s coming next. Your back bows, elbows and knees burying into the softness of the bed as you try to ground yourself for Ralak to use you for his own relief.

He does exactly that— hunching over you and shuffling his knees closer so he can gain more leverage to fuck into your slippery cunt. He puts all his weight on you, his fingernails almost piercing your skin when he begins rutting into you like his life depends on it.

He sets a merciless pace right off the bat, pounding into you as if he were angry with you. He huffs and puffs from trying to catch his breath but fails because he can’t stop himself from humping at you. His body won’t let him, not until he’s ensured you're full with his seed and will bear his child.

Hands quickly leaving your hips, he grabs your wrists, binding them together once more and the other grips your kuru and yanks it back. Your neck is exposed and your mouth hangs agape as you’re given no other choice but to take the jackhammering of your life. He’s never fucked you so hard or fast and perhaps it’s the haze of your heat but you just want more of him.

“F-Fuck. FuckFuckFuckmeFuckme— yes!” You beg deliriously, pushing yourself back onto him. You can feel the way his cock is bulging from your lower stomach, but you couldn’t care less because you just want it even deeper inside you. Fuck, it hurts even but it feels so good that you can’t stop begging for more. “Deeper — oh, yesyesyes!”

Ralaks groans become drawn out and he’s burying his hot face into the crook of your neck as his pulsing tip bullies its way past your cervix. It’s like white hot pleasure surging through your entire being and it has you so lightheaded you may actually pass out before he’s finished with you.

His cock heats up inside your cunt, becoming so veiny you could practically feel each vein press against your gummy, slimy walls. He’s now panting open mouthed against your throat, his tongue darting out to lick your skin. He shoves your head down so he can access the back of your neck—a hot spot for your pheromones— and grazes his canines against you. Every fiber of his being is urging him to sink them into your skin and see if you taste as good as you smell. His fangs throb in his mouth at the mere thought, his hot saliva dripping off their length and down your neck.

You’re so overwhelmed and overstimulated that you can’t form a coherent thought much less process the fact that you’re quickly nearing your climax. It’s as if you’ve surrendered all control over your body to him and he’s dictating what happens next. Your pussy walls tighten around him so much it aches and he outright whimpers.

“Sst-ah.” He pulls away from your neck and slams his eyes shut, grimacing from the way your cunt is gripping his cock. At this point you’re so on edge that you’re just pinching him, locking him inside you and almost cutting off his blood supply. It’s more than painful for him, and he becomes peeved that you won’t ease up.

Irritated, he aggressively slams himself into you so that you stop with your pathetic little pinching, but all that does is tip you over the edge. Next thing you know your cunt is helplessly fluttering around his cock and your pussy juices are trickling down your thighs.

“Mmm-fuck I’m cumming!” You moan the words so quickly they jumble together, “Cu-cumming! Cumming!”

You throbbing around him has his eyes rolling into the back of his head but the more your body convulses underneath him the more he grows frustrated with you. How could such a little thing put on such a big performance? Why won’t you just stay still?

So he thrusts. And thrusts. And thrusts.

Taming you in the only way his body knows how. Fucking into you without mercy or sympathy. He lets out a hiss, the first he’s ever directed your way, and tightens his grip. “Keep…” He pulls out of you until only the tip is left inside, “...still.” Ralak’s deep voice rumbles next to your ear as he slams every inch cock into your cunt, the mere force of his thrust almost knocking you onto your stomach. You let out a broken whimper, coming down from your high and already feeling the coil in your stomach wind and heat up again.

“Haa—‘nna…make you swell.” He groans the fragmented sentence like a dying man, grinding so deeply inside you that his swollen balls rub against your puffed up clit. Your bruised cervix feels so good against his cock as he uses it to massage the most sensitive part of his tip.

Experiencing nothing but absolute rapture, Ralaks head slumps into the crook of your neck, where he’s flooded by your scent. He only grinds harder. And harder, until he’s panting like a viperwolf against your skin.

“Fuck — please…” You beg through a shaky whisper, trying to free your hands from his undying grip, “I j-ust c-came.”

He’s just so fucking big and deep that he’s touching parts of you that have never touched before, and he’s only getting more aggressive the more you push away his advances. Right now, you’re just a squirming, noisy bitch in heat that needs to be put in her place. To surrender and submit. And the pheromones wafting up his nostrils only drive him further into his bestial urges to claim you as his.

His teeth and gums throb in his mouth once more when the urge to mark you as his becomes indubitable. Much like the urge to keep you still enough to make you into a vessel for his seed. He indulges himself, yanking your head back to expose the bend of your shoulder. He hovers open mouthed over your flawless skin and gives you a kitten lick before ruthlessly marking you.

Your eyes bulge and pupils constrict into nothing but dots when you feel his lengthy fangs plunge into your flesh. The wail evading your throat is deafening and only gets higher when you feel your shoulder set ablaze. His jaw locks into place and he holds you still as he incessantly claims you as his in more ways than just marking. Your eyes start to water and your body stiffens when you feel it.

He’s bulging inside you.

Stretching you out until your shoulder isn’t the only part of you on fire. You lash around, clawing at whatever’s in your way until your nails are dull but the more you move the more it burns. “Y-You’re getting bigger inside me!” You release a high pitched squeal, your elbows and knees finally collapsing under you. Now all his weight is on top of you, pinning you flat to the bed with nowhere for you to go. He begins groaning low and deep, drawing it out until it turns into a depraved growl. It feels as if he’s swelling inside you, as if he were doubling in size. As if he were — oh fuck.

“You’re — you’re knotting me, lak!” You yell when you come to the realisation. It feels like there’s two of him inside you, stretching you to unfathomable lengths. Despite your continuous attempts to get him to let up, he continues to bulge inside you. “You’re knotting me.” You repeat the words in a weakened, croaky voice of defeat, finally giving in and accepting your fate.

Riding out his high, his hips stutter out of his control — a familiar sensation now flooding your core. A rush of warmth inside you. It’s his hot seed pumping inside you, his cock thumping with each spurt. He groans and moans until you’re so overloaded with his cum it begins to drip down your thighs and mix with yours.

He unlatches from your shoulder, lapping at the wound to prevent it from bleeding too badly. He plants a few rough kisses on the double crescent shaped mark and works them up to the lobe of your ear. He’s panting and sweating and he can feel the fog lifting now that he’s had his release. “‘m sorry.” He mumbles between wet kisses, now trailing them back down to the fresh wound to lap at it some more. “‘m sorry.”

“Ralak, I-I” You stutter, overloaded with all these new sensations. It’s burning worse than a hellfire wasp sting but at the same time it’s everything your body hungers for. “Haah.. it-it hurts” You whimper quietly, looking behind you to see the most inebriated eyes you’ve ever seen on this man’s face stare back at you. He releases his pheromones to help your body calm down and feel less pain, ultimately scenting you all together.

“Mawey.” Ralak huffs, trying his hardest to stay still now that he’s quickly coming to the realisation that he’s knotted and marked you in one go. “Doing… so well, tahnì.” He tries to praise you but truthfully he’s still in and out of it, dazing off when he feels the occasional throb of your walls.

“Am I? Am I helping you too, lak?” You ask in a surprisingly optimistic tone, proud that you were able to do what you were told was unmanageable. He musters out a nod, grunting as he finishes emptying himself in your womb.

Feeling some level of sense and rationality, you ask him a question that’s been on your mind. “I’m going to get pregnant, aren’t I?”

“Mm.” He hums, nodding his head as he nuzzles himself into the dip of your shoulder, inhaling your seeping scent.

“Is that what you w-want?” Your breath hitches as you flinch from his cheek resting on your shoulder.

“Mm.” Another grunt, followed by an unexpected, fervid thrust — his body answering your question on his behalf by ensuring every last drop of his essence is inside your fertile womb.

You focus on steadying your breathing now that you’ve gotten your answer.

“Irayo, muntxate [thank you, wife].” He says weakly, finally rolling you both onto your sides for some much needed rest. You chuckle. A weak one, but a chuckle nonetheless, and repeat his own words back to him.

“Do not thank.” You say with a smile, getting yourself as comfortable as you can for the long night ahead.

——

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