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covetyou · 7 months

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the best of you, honey, belongs to me

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con, unprotected P in V, oral (f receiving), creampie, choking, spanking, mild praise kink, potential assault, derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap. word count: 5.5k chapter summary: Joel Miller is an asshole. An asshole and a liar. Right?

A/N: HOLY SHIT I DID IT I FINISHED SOMETHING. I did it Ma!

Thank you all so much for sticking with me this month. Your support has been silly lovely and I genuinely love you all a little bit.

Ty to @iamasaddie and @jupiter-soups for being the first people to cheer me on from the sidelines. You both made me excited about my own writing, which feels weird but I'm very grateful to you.

I hope you like it, thank you, goodbye, see you soon, I love you.

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song: NFWMB by Hozier

Joel Miller was a massive fucking liar, you'd realized.

You probably would have been able to guess that before, but as you were stood here, back pushed against a brick wall in an alleyway, it was clear as day.

You'd been dragged down here by two men - a small rat like one and a taller one with a mean look on his face - and thrown against the wall. Your back smarted, and you tried to reason with them, but they were tugging at your clothes and threatening you before you could think of anything useful to say.

They were torn off you as quick as they were on you.

And now, heavy fists were pounding into them, beating into their faces and stomachs as they slouched pathetically against the brick opposite. Joel had found you, somehow noticed in a crowd of people that you were suddenly gone. He had someone with him, they looked similar enough that they could have been family, and both were beating into the men that had dragged you down the alley.

A yelled threat and the two men were hobbling away, beaten and bloody and holding onto themselves in their retreat.

"You okay?"

You're looking at Joel, so it takes a second to register that the other man is addressing you. You slowly turn to him - definitely related - and nod. You're stunned and a little winded more than anything.

Joel is flexing his fist, staring daggers at you. His companion doesn't say another word to you, but you hear him talk in hushed tones to Joel, before Joel mutters something back to him and he walks away.

You should probably be more scared of being alone down an alley with Joel Miller than the other two guys but, though it confuses you, you feel safer than ever. He'd protected you, saved you, and that's how you knew that Joel Miller was a fucking liar.

"C'mon," he growls to you, walking away and expecting you to follow. Of course, you follow, even through the low lying anger and frustration that's still simmering in your belly.

As you walk behind, you watch as he clenches his fist and flexes his hands over and over. Before you know it you're outside his apartment block, being roughly dragged up the stairs by a heavy hand on your arm, dragged down a corridor and deposited in front of his front door. He doesn't look at you as he fishes his key out from an inner pocket on his coat.

"Saw you fuckin' lookin' at me, I told you not to do that shit," he says angrily, throwing you into his apartment and slamming the door closed behind you.

"They hurt you?" You shake your head. "They touch you?" You shake your head again.

His nostrils flair. You can almost hear the bones in his hands creak from how hard he's clenching his fists.

And so you poke the fucking bear again, because what is there to lose. You'd spent all week mulling it over, getting angrier and angrier as you talked yourself in circles. He didn't like you and you definitely didn't like him. You didn't want to kiss him, but also you did. Neither of you cared, but maybe both of you did. Everything was feeling like a lie and all you wanted was the truth. So you poke, bracing yourself for impact.

"You're a liar," you whisper, pulling at the sleeves of your coat.

His eyes immediately snap to yours, and he's making quick work of the distance between you. He's toe to toe with you when he stops, looking down at you, fists still firmly clenched at his sides.

"What did you fuckin' say to me?"

You swallow before you speak again, meek as a mouse but a fire in your belly. "You're a liar. You said you wouldn't look out for me."

"S'that why you kept lookin'? S'that why you got yourself in trouble? To prove some fuckin' point?"

You frown at him - it hadn't been intentional. You were glaring at him when they grabbed you, stuffing a gloved hand over your mouth to keep your scream from being heard. The people around you didn't care, didn't stop what they were doing or go for help. They just left you. But Joel came anyway.

"You think I asked for that?" you say, trying to keep your voice from cracking. You never have and never will cry in front of this man, not like this anyway. You watch as his mouth curls to sneer at you, the fire turning into a sick feeling bubbling up through your belly as you watch his lip raise.

You don't know what comes over you, but you push at his chest, wanting to touch him and get him away from you in equal measure. It takes him by surprise, the force of your push making him stumble back.

You both stare at each other, unmoving for a beat, both shocked that you'd dare to touch him let alone push him. You think maybe you should run, get away before he gets you, but your reactions are slower than his, and you're raising your arms to protect yourself as he makes one big stride over to you.

The blow doesn't come.

He's pulling at your coat, jerking it down your arms, before tugging at the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. It gets caught, and you hear a tear as it catches on your arm, but he keeps pulling anyway. The fabric splits from your body, tattered and ruined as it's discarded on the floor.

"You think I would fuckin' hit you?" he says angrily as he tugs at the rest of your clothes. "You think I would fuckin' hurt you in any way you don't want?"

You have no time to answer before he's manhandling you again, pushing you roughly into his room.

He pushes you forward onto his bed, bending you over and holding you there as he reaches around and tugs at your zipper. You fight to stand, but the weight of his hand keeps you in place as he pulls your pants and panties down in one, leaving them around your knees so you can't run to escape even if you wanted to. Any thought that you could, should, run is already gone. You don't want to, not any more. Whatever he wants to do, whatever anger he has for you, you want it. You want to feel his anger, you want it to burn into yours until you combust.

A hand claps down on your ass and you feel the sting ripple up your back. He wanted that one to hurt, and it did. Another sharp slap hits your other cheek soon after, the sting of pain made worse by your cold skin, but you're glad for it because you wanted that one to hurt too.

Both his hands rub across your cheeks, drawing a groan from you as he massages them and soothes the sting before rough fingers pull you apart. He always did like looking.

He wastes no time in plunging his wet tongue into your pussy from behind, Joel's hands yanking your pants down the to your feet to spread you open further for him. "You're fuckin' dripping," he says between breaths as you push back into his face.

"You this wet from those guys?" You don't answer, so he slaps a hand down on your ass again.

"Fuckin' answer me."

"N-no. M'not wet from them."

"Then why," he says, breathing deeply as he devours your pussy, the cold of his nose tickling your hole as the scruff on his jaw scratches at your inner thighs. "Tell me. Tell me why this needy fuckin' pussy is so wet."

"Because of you," you push your face down into his bed, biting at his sheets as his tongue swipes over your clit, already so sensitive your legs are shaking. You arch your back, exposing more of your cunt to his relentless tongue. There's no question or thread of shame in your mind why you like this - why you're already so close to coming undone just from him being an asshole and playing with your pussy.

"Me, huh? Little hole's desperate for me? Look at her cryin' out to be stuffed full, drippin' all over the place."

You couldn't help the drip of slick from your cunt, or the way his words always worked to make it worse. You knew you were a mess, but by now you knew he liked it, even if he taunted you for it. You felt how his grasping hands got firmer, saw as his cock got harder, just at the sight of your glistening pussy.

Two of his thick fingers are pushing into you, the cold feel of them startling you as they slide home. You'd spent a week thinking of his fist buried in your cunt, but his fingers still felt so thick, so much, plunged into your dripping wet heat as they were.

"If you make a mess on my sheets I'll rub your fuckin' nose in it. Act like an animal I'll treat you like one."

If you were an animal, he was fucking feral - a snarling, growling, feral animal of a man that you just couldn't resist.

His fingers curl, dragging against your walls harshly as his tongue slides against your clit again, swirling around the stretched rim where his fingers are embedded in you, tasting you, before slurping at your clit once more. You grind your hips back against his face, trying to get more friction on your clit as he fucks you with his fingers. They're warmed now, the burning heat from your cunt drawing the chill from his bones.

The wet squelch in your cunt is obscene as he laps at your clit, drawing you so close already, your feet still tangled in your pants and your moans muffled by the push of your face into his sheets.

Joel's fingers are gone just as your orgasm starts to raise its head over the horizon, ruining any high you were so close to getting. You slam your fist down on the bed in frustration, ignoring his gruff laugh as you muffle your fuck into his bed. His knees crack as he stands, undoing his belt and pulling his cock from his pants. He doesn't stroke himself, he doesn't need to, he just squeezes himself at the base, lines himself up with your hole and pushes forward.

A strangled moan pulls from your chest as he sheathes himself, pulling your hips back flush with his as his cock impales you in one movement.

"Fuck, if this pussy don't just love this dick."

He draws back slowly, pulling any slick from your cunt back with him, coating himself in you, before slamming back to the hilt.

"Uhh, f-fuck."

You feel him draw back again, holding himself back from you, tip barely inside your cunt, teasing himself at your entrance. Before he can, you push back onto his cock, taking him in with a deep moan.

He stifles a groan, fingers digging into your hips, pinching the flesh in his grip. You try to move, to fuck yourself on his length, but his grip won't let you. You can feel him throb inside you, and you hope he's already close to coming, that he wants you that much he can barely hold himself back.

The thought is gone as soon as he starts pulling back again and thrusting forward quickly, repeatedly slamming his hips into your ass and pulling you back onto him. The sharp slap of his hips and wet squelches of your pussy are muffled only by your moans and Joel's shaky breathing.

"Tell me - you fuck anyone else - like this," you say through staccato gasps as his cock collides with your cervix. "If you say you do - I'll know - you're even more of a - fucking liar."

He throws you forward, pulling out and standing glaring down at you when you twist to look at him, finally able to kick your pants and shoes off your feet.

"You think you're special?" he growls. You take him in, his massive figure stood there still clothed, cock hanging lewdly from his pants and covered in your slick. You want to lick it, taste your own pussy on his cock and catch the drip of precum from his tip before it's wasted.

"No. I'm not. And neither are you," you spread your legs as you say it, willing him to come back, to start fucking you again, but not daring to ask for it. "You're an asshole. I just like that you make me feel good."

"Feeling's mutual, sweetheart." He's pouncing on you before you can process it, yanking his shirt over his head before pulling your spread thighs across his clothed ones, notching at your entrance and sliding straight back in.

You thud back down onto the bed with the force of his cock fucking into you, staring up at him with an open mouth, panting as he starts to cant into you once again. His hands are holding your thighs against his as he rocks so deeply into you you think you can see your lower belly pulse with each movement.

His hands slide down your thighs, pulling you apart where his cock joined with you, swiping a thumb up the slick gathered there and rubbing it around your clit in rough circles. You reach down, hand trying to meet his and hold him there, but he swats you away. You move further instead, grabbing at the waistband of his pants and tugging down, slipping them over his ass before he's pushing you back again. Your fingers drag across his abdomen as you fall back again, watching a shudder crawl through him with the graze of your fingertips.

You try not to smile when his hand falls from you and shimmies his pants further down his legs, over his knees and kicking them off the end of the bed whilst still buried in you. You can see all of him again now, his broad shoulders, dark nipples, the trail of hair down to his cock where it disappears inside you. His thick thighs, spread almost as lewdly as yours, dusted in hair, the muscles flexing with each rock into you. He doesn't look at you as you drink him in, eyes focused on your cunt as he pulls you back open.

He spits down onto your clit. You whine when it collides with your skin and starts to trickle down your spread pussy. You whine again when his thumb draws it up and around your clit, massaging it into you, each swipe of his thumb jerking your swollen nub and bringing you closer to coming undone as he pounds you hard into his mattress.

You throw your head back with the feeling of it all, moaning loudly into the open room.

"You'd let me do anythin' to you, huh."

"Yeah," you admit, head still thrown back and eyes closed. You would, you couldn't even say why, just that you knew you would. That for all the pain at the end of the world, this was a pain that was worth it, a stretch that made you ache in the right ways, the sting of his palm that electrified you, made you feel alive.

"You're just beggin' for me to slap your pussy pink again, ain't you? Fill that pretty little asshole up with my cum. Wear you like a fuckin' glove." He's growling, muttering obscene things to you, things you both know to be true. "You'd let me fuck you anyway I want, even share you with whoever I want."

You nod, stupidly bobbing your head along with the rhythm of him sliding into you.

"This pussy is mine," he growls. "Say it."

"Yours!" you pant, you didn't want it to be anyone elses any more, what was the point when he'd ruined you for anyone else. "M'yours!" Fuck.

"All o' you? That's more than I even asked for sweetheart."

And he's falling forward over you, hands planting either side of your head for leverage as he pounds into you harder than he ever has, abandoning your clit just as you were about to fall apart underneath him yet again. Any words to correct yourself are gone as you groan, pulling your brows together and watching him. His face relaxes and contorts over and over, sweat beads at his temples. You know his hair would feel damp if only you would reached up to touch it.

He shifts to his elbows, the sweat from his chest and belly mingling with yours, making your bodies slick as they slide together. You watch his mouth open as he pants, the heat of his breath on your face cooling the sweat dripping down your neck. You can smell him, see every imperfection of his skin in such detail that you're struck dumb, angry, and desperate all in one swoop. Something so close still feels so far away, and a frustrated sob is bubbling from you before you can stop it.

Something inside you snaps with that. You'd be chasing it for weeks, denied something you hadn't even dared to ask for.

You grab him by the throat as his hips roll into you, gasping out a breath before you grit your teeth and say it, forcing him to look directly at you.

"Fucking kiss me."

He laughs in your face and you fight down the shame for even daring to ask for something you wanted, something you deserved. "Is that what you want?"

You nod, squeezing his throat beneath your fingertips.

He pulls back from you - you want to claw at him and hold him to you but he pushes your hand against his throat with his own. He looks down between you, your pussy creaming around his cock and swollen clit twitching with each thrust.

You tighten the grip on the sides of his throat, feeling the hard thud of blood through his veins at your fingertips, drawing his eyes back to yours.

"Fuck, that's it, sweetheart."

He suddenly throws your arm down from his neck, pinning both if your hands down as he puts his weight on top of you.

"That what you want?" he grits out. "That what you keep coming back for? Thought you were whoring yourself out for pills, not a fuckin' kiss. Are you that fuckin' desperate?"

He's goading you, you know he is. Still, you want to scream at him, but his face is close to yours now, so terrifyingly close you could kiss him by accident if you weren't careful. Suddenly you're terrified of it, desperate but terrified.

His aquiline nose slides up the side of your face, and you stop breathing. "You want this?"

"Please." You'll be angry at yourself for begging later, right now you'd say anything if it meant he'd finally give it to you.

He drags his nose across your face, rubs his nose against yours. He's practically still inside you now, the shallow rock of his hips the only movement either of you are making. "You sure?"

"Please," you whisper again, breath ghosting across his lips. You try not to move your mouth too much, barely muttering the word in case your mouth touches his. His own breath huffs against your mouth, teasing you with the taste of him.

"S'all you want, huh?"

"Mm." He's so close you don't trust yourself to speak.

His nose nuzzles into yours, the hair on his face tickling at your sensitive top lip. Then you feel it, the bow of his top lip swiping against yours, not kissing just feeling.

You're frozen, terrified to move, terrified to feel what you've been desperate for for months.

But you made it through the worst days at the end of the world. What was fear any more except another lie.

You press your lips forward, done with waiting, done with being patient, done with putting others first. You want it so badly that finally, finally, you take it.

At the first press of your lips to his, he releases your wrists, sliding his hand down the curve of your body to hold you to him. You moan into his mouth, blinking back angry tears as you wrap your own hand around his neck to pull him in further. At first he doesn't move against you, letting you kiss the soft swell of his mouth, but when you slip your tongue against his bottom lip and breathe him in, his mouth opens and his lips press to yours, giving back everything you're taking.

"This all you wanted this whole time?" he whispers against your mouth.

"Not all I wanted," you mumble. Your eyes are closed, head dizzy from breathing so deeply, from finally doing the thing you'd literally only dreamed of.

"No?"

"No," you swallow before continuing, the shame of admission gone now. What shame could there even be when it was so obvious. You open your eyes just as you speak. "I wanted all of it."

"Yeah?" You think from the look on his face that he needed to hear it as much as you needed to say it, so you kiss him again, just because you can.

He presses his hips into you harder, making you gasp straight into his mouth, the sharp pressure of his cock so much with the fuzzy high in your head. He does it again, kissing you of his own volition this time and swallowing your moan down as he starts fucking you again, one hand settling in your hair as the other wanders your body. You can still taste the salty sweetness of your own pussy on his mouth as you lick into him.

Your own hand dances with his over your body, teasing your own nipples and stroking down, down, until you push your hand between your bodies and feel between your legs. You're a mess, sweat and the wetness from your pussy merged together to create a slip and slide of slick as he slides his cock into your tender hole. You stroke at the base of him and feel another shudder work its way through his body before you move your hand back to yourself, circling your own clit as he rocks his length into you.

"You gonna make yourself come on my cock?" he says, looking down where your hand strokes at your clit. You nod, lips brushing his, capturing him in another kiss as you moan, so close already.

"Good fuckin' girl. You rub that pretty pussy. She just fuckin' loves this dick." True.

His cock in your pussy, his hands in your hair, holding your body, your own hand strumming your clit with well practiced movements, the feeling of his lips on your own. It's all so much so quickly, everything you've been craving for so long, that the fire in your body burns so bright it explodes out of every pore before you can hold it off.

"F-fuck, Joeeel."

You come with a cry, every part of your body shuddering and convulsing, hand twitching over your own cunt as you desperately try to keep the high going as long as you can, until you're so sensitive all you can do is grip your own thigh, your nails creating half moons in the soft flesh.

"You're all mine, huh?" he says gently, still inside you now as he feels your walls pulse and twitch around him. You nod, floating from his kisses and your own high. "No one else gonna touch this pussy. S'all mine."

"S'yours."

"Needy, needy, pussy," he grunts into your mouth, as your cunt quivers around him, an aftershock pulled from you at just his words and the rasp of his coarse hair against your clit.

It hits you then, for all he called you needy you never actually asked for what you wanted, what you needed. You never took it either. Not until now. But he always did.

"I think you're just as needy as I am," you whisper.

He clicks his tongue and cocks his head. "I never said I wasn't, sweetheart."

A quick shuffle of his knees later he's pounding into you with abandon, your cunt had barely stopped throbbing by the time he started again.

"Ohhhh, god."

You don't move to kiss him again, he's chasing whatever high he needs now and you let him take it, back arching, moaning as he pounds away, cock slipping inside you with ease. The hand in your hair pulls harder, tugging your head back. You think this is going to be it, he's going to come inside you like this, but then wet kisses are being peppered across your neck and collar bone, his moans sounding more like those of a common whore than his usual grunts.

You want to come again already, so you grip him tight, hands roaming from your body to his arms, his shoulders. Your nails claw at him, pulling him closer and pushing him away, trying to tear him apart with your bare hands as he fucks you.

He moves quicker still, head buried in the crook of your neck as he holds onto you and slams home over and over. You think he's almost there - hope he is because how much more screaming can your voice take before it breaks - when he's yanking your hair again. His mouth latches to your own in a sloppy kiss, tongue fighting with yours and his cock squelching into the wet heat of your pussy as he comes undone, groaning into your mouth, shuddering, fucking ropes of thick cum into your empty cunt and never stilling for a second.

His hips stop bucking against yours before his mouth does. He kisses you softer, groaning, slowing down to catch his breath before he finally removes his lips from yours with a shuddering gasp, screwing his eyes shut.

Cum practically gushes out of you when he pulls out, and you expect him to get up and leave like he has every time before. He doesn't. Instead, he rests his head next to yours, kissing your shoulder, the warmth of his body encasing yours.

Your face finds his, nudging against his jaw. He shifts, letting you in, and your mouth finds his again. You kiss him until you turn to liquid, sighing deeply and tracing soft patterns on his skin and your own with your fingertips.

Eventually, he releases your hair, and you think the moment is truly over. But then he rolls over, flopping down next to you, the weight of him dipping the mattress and making you shift closer to his side. He closes his eyes, putting an arm behind his head, and you take the chance to look down at his naked body, his cock now soft between his legs.

The feeling that bubbles up through you rips out of your mouth in a laugh. Joel's eyes fly open, finding yours, making you laugh harder. Tears are falling from your eyes - the absurdity of it all too much to bear. So angry at him, at yourself, for weeks now. Wanting something for so long, something that it turns out you could have just reached out and grabbed. Driving yourself near mad over wanting to be touched in a way you thought he never would, when maybe all along he thought you never wanted it. You're left with nothing but small giggles and an aching belly by the time the feeling bubbles out of you completely.

You wonder how all of this must look to him. How small and naive you must look, just a silly girl giggling in his bed. If he thinks it, he doesn't voice it. He just shakes his head softly and raises an eyebrow at you, as if to ask if you're done.

You lie next to each other in silence after that. He doesn't tell you to leave, and you don't move to either. You just lie there, arms barely touching, sweat drying and cooling both of your bodies.

You'd always been okay with silence, more often than not finding yourself with nothing to say, especially these days. But something in this moment tells you to speak, and so you do, filling the silence with your own voice before the opportunity can be taken from you.

"Thanks for helping me out there," you start softly. "I know you said you wouldn't, and I'm not trying to prove a point I just... Thank you. I was looking at you. I couldn't help it. I've been... angry. At you, yeah, but mostly myself. So I was looking, but I didn't realize it was that much, I swear and I -"

"S'okay," he stops your ramble so simply and quickly you frown, an involuntary tut falls of your mouth. He casts a glance over to you, almost chastising as he continues. "Ain't lyin' when I say it though. You gotta stop lookin' at me. I really can't be lookin' out for you, just got lucky this time. There's assholes bigger than me out there."

"Doubt it," you scoff. He raises an eyebrow and runs his tongue along his teeth, daring you to say more. You don't.

You fiddle with the sheets between you, biting at your cheek and bottom lip, so much more to say but the words just ending up jumbled in your head.

"I wasn't lying either. When I said I want it. All of it." That's a start, you figure.

"You don't want me. I could be anyone."

"Maybe I don't. Never said I did. I just know that I want whatever this is," you gesture between the two of you. Whatever had started as a transaction was clearly more than that now. You enjoyed the feel of him, the way he touched you and talked to you. You enjoyed the escape of it all. It was nice to know another person in the world knew you were there, that you existed, cared about you in some way, even if it was only enough to make sure you came. "Sex was never really any good with anyone else anyway."

"I've got other people I have arrangements with. I've got Tess, I've got -"

"I know. That doesn't matter. I'm not asking you to change. I don't want anything to change. I just want..." you trail off, shrugging. "I just want this for me. I don't care what it is for you, as long as it's good too."

He looks at you, taking you in with curious eyes, working out if what you're saying is true. If really, in this moment here and now, you want this exactly as it is. "I can do that."

You think that he gets it, understands it all more than you could ever explain. The thought of that alone is more comforting than any touch he could give you. It could have been a sweet moment, if that's what you two were. But it's not, and still he ruins it anyway.

"Pussy really is no one else's but mine, huh?" There's an edge to his voice that tells you he's holding back a laugh, and you could fucking hit him.

This time, you do. You relish in the oof that leaves his body as your hand collides with the side of his chest. He catches your wrist before you can land another soft blow, your skin prickling in his firm grip. You know from the feel of his hand and the look in his eye that you'll fuck him again before you leave his apartment today.

It only takes a few minutes for you to prove yourself right. You climb on top of him all soft curves and bouncing tits, hair a mess, face scrunched and jaw relaxed as you ride him, kissing him as much as you've ever wanted. Even when your legs ache, when he starts fucking up into you with each bounce of your hips, you carry on, wanting to take from him again and have him fill you.

He never tells you to leave, but eventually you get up, putting your clothes on, tucking your torn t-shirt around you. You expect your dad will be wondering where you've got to soon.

Joel sits and watches you dress until you're stood fully clothed, looking at him lying nude on his bed, a total contrast to what happened in this room just a week ago.

You think for a moment, waiting as he gets up and walks with you back through his apartment. You take in the last few hours. The last week. The last few months of knowing Joel Miller.

"Joel?"

"Mm."

You look him up and down as you stand in front of his door, still naked as the day he was born. "You're a massive slut, you know that, right?"

He laughs. Full bellied, head back, laughs.

"Takes one to know one, sweetheart," he says with a smirk, winking as he unlatches the front door.

You kiss Joel again as you leave his apartment. He can't stop you now, and you don't think he would ever even try.

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eywathemother · 1 year

Text

Fish Lips Part 1

Ship: Aonung x Kiri's twin sister!Reader

Warnings: Language, bullying, gore, fighting, talk of war, injury and blood, slow burn, enemies to lovers (not really a warning just some people don't like that trope), death of (a) character(s), not proofread

Words: 2,858

Keys: (y/n) = your name,,(y/i/n) = your Ikran's name,, Neural Queue= the braid extension of a Na'vi's nervous system that allows them to link up to animals and Ewya,,

Chapters; Introduction || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 ||

Spoilers for Avatar: The Way of Water A whole ass lot.

Watching your father being stripped of his title of Olo'eyktan was painful for the family. You never would've thought that you'd be leaving your home, your people. You wanted to stay; you didn't want to leave. Why couldn't you just stay and fight as your mother said, you'd eventually have to fight anways. It was like losing a big part of yourself.

You said goodbye to your grandmother, you didn't want to leave her. You didn't want to leave anyone. You held your twin's hand, hoping to find some type of comfort. You let go of your sister's hand to get on (y/i/n), your beautiful Ikran, and you took one more look at your people and the Tree of Souls before flying off with your family.

You flew next to Kiri and had your last look at the forest before leaving it all behind.

The trip was long and quiet, barely uttering a word to each other the entire time. The storm that came was the only time you all really spoke to each other, making sure everyone was okay.

You arrived sometime during late morning of the second day and you couldn't hide your awe. The place was beautiful, nothing like your home in the forest. The clusters of homes in the tree's branches near the ocean side was extraordinary and beautiful. You glanced at Lo'ak who wore a curious face as well. Neteyam gave you a small smile with bright eyes and you all landed.

Kiri came over to help you off your Ikran, you insisted you could do it yourself but sometimes she was too much of a helicopter sister. When you got off your Ikran you walked alongside Neteyam, your sister moved to stand next to your mother.

" This is so cool." You whispered to Neteyam." You think they have Ikran's here?" He asked and Lo'ak scoffed." Dude look, we're surrounded by water there's probably like a really cool fish they use or something." You and Neteyam glanced at each other and giggled at Lo'ak who shrugged." I'm just using my brain."

" What brain?" Kiri chimed in, making you all giggle harder. Neytiri let out a small hiss in warning." Sh." You all immediately obeyed not wanting to agitate your mother any further and fell back into a silence as you followed your father forward into a group of people. They were different from you, they had a turquoise skin tone, their tails were smooth and flat, and they had what looked to be fins on their forearms and calves.

"Be nice." Your father said to you all." Be nice.' Neytiri repeated, probably aimed more at Lo'ak and you than anyone else. You began to feel uncomfortable with their stares, but you remained calm and looked around a little more.

A boy walked forward, he had on what looked like a tooth necklace and a boy followed behind him. The walked halfway around while you all greeted them, analyzing you, Neteyam, and Lo'ak.

" What is that?" The shorter boy said." Is that supposed to be a tail?" He laughed with his friend, and you barred your teeth a little at them. Neteyam pinched your arm and your hissed a bit at him. You did not enjoy them picking on your brothers. The taller one looked you up and down with a smirk as he continued to laugh.

You turned away from the boys to your brothers who were both looking over at the water and you turned your head to see a pretty girl coming out of the water. From the corner of your eye, you saw Lo'ak turn his head downward and you and Neteyam both looked over at him.

" It's too small, how are they supposed to swim?" The shorter one continued and the girl came over slapping the boys arm." Do not. Rotxo, Aonung." She scolded them, their faces fell immediately.

She sighed turning to us, you gave her a small smile in which she returned. Then her eyes shifted to Lo'ak who nodded his head up as a greeting with a smile on his face." Hey." He said to her and she giggled looking down.

You would definitely be teasing him about it later. A weird fish thing flew above you interrupting your thoughts, and you bent down a little, looking at the weird creature. The two boys walked away to the front, but still kept an eye on your brothers.

"Olo'eyktan." The man spoke, you assumed to be Tonowari the Metkayina chief walked over to your father. " I see you." Jake said and they greeted each other politely. We all followed suit and greeted the chief respectfully. As they were greeting a woman came out from behind the people and your father immediately turned towards her to greet her." I see you Ronal, Tsahik of the Metkayina."

" I see you Ronal." Your mother greeted as well and she shifted her gaze between your parents." Why do you come to us, Jake Sully?" He turned around to look at you all before facing them again." We seek Uturu."

" Uturu?" Ronal repeated, baffled by your fathers words, She looked to her mate and back at your father. " A Sanctuary for my family."

Ronal's ears went back, and she approached your father." We are reef people; you are forest people." Tonowari stated as Ronal analyzed you all." Your skills will mean nothing here." Ronal eyed you when she walked past you, especially at your wounds. You shifted your gaze away ears bending to show your embarrassment of being under her hard gaze.

" We will learn your ways." jake turned to Neytiri for her to agree." Yes.' Was all she said, and Ronal grabbed her tail, then Tuk's arms. "Their arms are thin." Ronal walked over to Kiri, grabbing her tail. Kiri let out an ow, pulling her tail from Ronal's hands." Their tails are weak. You will be slow in the water." Then she looked down at Kiri's hands and grabbed them.

" These children, are not even true Na'vi." The crowd began to mumble and Jake stared at Ronal as Neytiri watched in irritation. Kiri pulled her hands from Ronal's." Yes we are." She retorted, then she walked over to Lo'ak grabbing his hands and raising them for the crowd to see." They have demon blood!" She shouted and the crowd gasped, backing up.

Jake raised his hand in front of Ronal's face." Look. Look." He turned his hand for her to observe." Look I was born of the sky people and now I am Na'vi alright you can adapt. We will adapt, okay." He promised.

Neytiri stepped out in front of Jake, confronting Ronal." My husband was Toruk Makto and he led the clans to victory against the sky people." She glanced at Tonowari for approval who bent his head a bit in respect.

"This you call victory?" Ronal asked." Hiding among strangers?" An uncomfortable pause rung out through the air, and you watched as the two woman butt heads." It seems Eywa has turned her back on you, chosen one." Neytiri barred her teeth immediately getting into her space. Ronal hissing and stepping closer to her.

" I apologize for my mate she's-" Jake started and Neytiri interrupted. "Do not apologize for me." Jake ignored her and continued to speak." She's come along way and she's exhausted."

"Jake." Neytiri eyed Jake until she turned around and looked away from Ronal who was staring her down. Ronal turned away and placed herself next to her husband. Tonowari looked awkward and immediately tried to change the subject.

"Toruk Makto is a great war leader." He started and faced his people." All Na'vi people know his story." He raised his hands into the air." But we Metkayina are not at war." Tuk approached your fathers side, and he picked her up as Tonowari turned around to face Jake again.

" We cannot let you bring your war here.' Tonowari finished and Jake looked up at him." I'm done with war, okay. I just want to keep my family safe." He stated to both of them as Ronal approached Tonowari's side again. They shared a look, Ronal and Tonowari having a silent conversation between each other. " Uturu has been asked." Your mother stated holding Kiri's hand and looking up to meet Tonowari's eyes.

After a few beats of silence, she bowed her head and Tonowari turned to his people." Toruk Makto and his family will stay with us. Treat them as your brothers and sisters." He turned to Jake." They do not know the sea, so they will be like babies, taking their first breathe." You bowed your head in embarrassment your ears going back and your tail wagging in irritation.

You just wanted to sink into the ground, or better yet to just go back home. You mother had the same reaction, so you felt better that you weren't the only one." Teach them our ways so they do not suffer the shame of being useless." He emphasized useless, turning towards Jake and meeting his eyes.

Your father wasn't completely okay with the treatment but he dealt with it so you could all have a home." Okay what do we say?" He put Tuk down and placed his hand on her back shoulder. " Thank you." She spoke in relief while everyone else just mumbled a thank you.

You didn't even say anything, your ears still back. Jake turned your way, sending a scolding look your way. " Thank you." You grumbled and turned your head away as he faced forward.

Tonowari turned to the girl and boy standing next to him." My son Aonung and my daughter Tsireya will show your children what to do." Jake bowed his head in thanks, but Aonung wasn't having it." Father why do I-"

"It has been decided." He pointed a finger at his sons face and immediately shut down his tantrum. Tsireya stepped forward with a smile." Come I will show you our village."

You guys gathered your belongings and followed Tsireya, her brother and the crowd gone." Follow me." She said with a smile and she took some things out of Neytiri's hand." Let me help you."

"She's very sweet, I see why you're already head over heels for her." You teased Lo'ak who rolled his eyes." Am not." Neteyam ruffled his hair, almost dropping his things but quickly regained himself." When's the wedding?" He asked and you both laughed at him as his cheeks darkened." Stop teasing him you two." Kiri scolded you and you sighed.

You followed her onto the bouncy walking platforms of the houses nearby, which Tuk was having fun on." Tuk lets go." Kiri said and Tuk turned around from the creature she was looking and giggling at. You were the last in the line because of your ankle that still hadn't healed since your little adventure to the battlefield backfired immensely.

" You okay back there?" Neteyam asked as he glanced behind him." Yeah, my ankles just a bit sore is all." You sighed and he chuckled." Well, it wouldn't have gotten worse if your stayed with grandmother." You let out a small hiss at him." Whatever."

Tsireya stopped at the last house near the end and pointed into it." This is for you. Your new home." Jake entered followed by the rest of you." Yea this'll work. This is great!" He spoke, trying to be optimistic. Neytiri walked in with a huff, looking around and letting the rug she was holding fall. You all glanced at each other before getting to work.

You set down your things, going up to Tsireya ad bowing your head a bit." No need for formalities." She smiled and you nodded taking the things out of her hand." Thank you for your help today." You turned but was stopped by her voice.

" You're hurt." You turned around glancing a bit at your mother before meeting Tsireya's gaze." Uh, It's alright. I'll freshen up the patching after I'm finished." Nonsense, my mother has practice in healing." You looked to Neytiri again who glanced at Tsireya." Go on, (y/n)." You paused and looked at your mother who smirked at you teasingly and Tsireya ushered you to follow her.

" Where did you get those wounds?" She asked and you rubbed your head." A rock landed on it." She looked at you, zigzagging through the walkways to her house" And what about the one below your neck?" You shrugged." Do you always interrogate strangers."

Tsireya shook her head." No, I'm sorry I was just curious is all." You shook your head." I was just teasing you; you don't need to apologize." You gave her a smile and she giggled a little." Oh."

She led you into her house where her mother and father were talking to each other. They looked up and Tsireya stepped forward." Her bandages need freshened up and since they just got here and don't know where things are I thought you could help her mother." Tsireya explained and you stood there awkwardly under the gazes of both her parents.

Ronal had a suffocating and powerful aura, you felt like you would be crushed by her presence. Tonowari stood up and nodded." Of course, I will be back I need to be somewhere." Tsireya and you both bowed your heads in respect towards him and he gave a small smile before leaving.

Ronal got up and collected what she needed, walking over to you and grabbing your arm. It wasn't harsh but demanding you sit where she placed you." Sit girl, I must look at this wound first." She spoke, removing the poorly made bandages you had on your neck.

" When did you get this, it's still a bit fresh." She asked as she studied the stitching." Five days ago." You answered and she huffed." You should not have flown with a wound like this, it could've torn." She lectured you, and Tsireya peered over to look at it, holding tools her mother handed her.

" What is it from?" She asked as she mixed some ingredients together in a bowl." I was cut by a knife." You explained and Ronal glanced up at you before returning her eyes back to her work." By the sky people?" She pressed and you gave a curt nod." Dream Walkers."

She sighed mumbling underneath her breath, and she began to lather on the salve she was making onto your wound." You must be more careful." She was really starting to sound like your grandmother and Norm who lectured you the entire time they were patching you up.

" Yes, ma'am." The room was filled with silence as she finished up with the medicine and patching." Now your ankle." She demanded, gently but firmly pulling your leg from your crisscrossed position." No, it's quite alright, it's close to healing anyways." You gave an awkward smile at her, and she squinted her eyes at you.

"All injuries must be treated." Was all she said as she unraveled the wraps around your ankle. It was still a bit swollen and a big bruise cover most of the inside of your ankle.

She tsked, turning your foot to look at your ankle more." Why have you been walking, so stupid of you." She huffed, as she put some salve on it." Did this happen when you were cut?" You shook your head embarrassed by the lecture the woman was giving you." It happened a few days before that."

" My goodness child, you need to stay out of trouble." While Ronal's words came out harsh, you knew she meant it in a kind way. As she was finishing applying her son Aonung walked in, holding a basket of fish he most likely caught.

He sent you a glance, giving your wounds a once over. You didn't like him, your first impression of him was he and his friend making fun of you. Now you have to deal with him teaching you. Your ears went back a bit in irritation. and Aonung copied your actions.

Ronal noticed this interaction and eyed Aonung as he set down the fish." Where is your father?" She asked him and he shrugged." I think he went to talk to Jake Sully." You held in a laugh, it was funny to you how everyone thought Jake Sully was his name together, when it was just Jake.

Ronal saw the amusement on your face and cocked her head." What is funny?" You whipped your head towards her and gave an embarrassed laugh." Nothing, I was just thinking of something."

She looked at you for a little bit before turning to Aonung and standing up." You will walk her back." You stood up, your tail wagging in surprise." No, it's okay, I know my way back."

Ronal turned to you." You're confident for someone who has just been to our home once." Ronal grabbed Aonung's arm as he huffed and rolled his eyes. She hissed at him in warning, and he bent his ears back." Do so with no problems Aonung."

Ronal let go of him and ushered both of you out before going back to where Tsireya was sat watching your interactions. As you walked back the atmosphere was tense, he didn't turn to face you or even acknowledge you as he led you back.

You didn't mind, it gave you a bit of time to actually think about the move and how your life will be like here. When you arrived Tonowari had just finished talking to your father and you began to help your mother with finishing unloading.

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #atwow #atwow x reader #aonung x you #aonung #aonung x reader #x reader

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thcfountain · 2 months

Text

I recieved 2 requests for enemies to lovers between Matt and Reader.

tags: enemies to lovers, mentions of male masturbation, implied degradation kink.

word count: 2,029

banner cred. Join my tag list.

tag list: @to-be-written @th4t-em0-k1d @cheyyyr @somewhere-diamond @ravieisunhinged @blackveilomens @sprokat @jilliemiw86 @cookiesupplier @emmmm127 @thatchickwiththecamera

A/N: Hey guys, sorry about the somewhat hiatus that happened from me without warning. I don't have an excuse for vanishing really, so I'm sorry and please know that I'm working on your requests now!

“I do not need an assistant,” came the same complaint that Matt had already given the rest of the band multiple times over the course of the last week.

Unfortunately, Matt did need an assistant, so much so that he had been complaining about it for months. The bigger the band got, the more responsibilities hit his plate and the less time he had to work on each responsibility, let alone have time for the occasional problem that occurred. He was stretched thin and the band knew it. Noah had told Matt not to worry, that he would find Matt the perfect assistant and that had been that.

At least until Noah had announced the new hire.

There weren't many people in Virginia that Noah kept in touch with, outside of Ruffilo's family and her. A childhood friend of Noah and Nicholas who was still close enough to both of them that Matt and the band and crew had met her and hung out with her on a multitude of occasions over the years.

Matt knew Noah had a soft spot for y/n - they had met in high school and back then she had been just as enamored with the music industry as Noah and from what Matt knew, she had doubled as photographer and occasional manager for Noah's high school band. (Of course she was also a high school student, so Matt had been put under the impression that Noah and his ex bandmates had paid her in drinks or weed or dinner here and there.)

She had gone on to work as a tour manager for a few small bands here and there since then and maybe Matt would have been more impressed if he didn't hate her.

“She's extremely professional, you could do a lot worse,” Noah countered Matt's complaint in a tone that said he wasn't going to have this argument again.

Matt persisted, he wasn't the hater king for nothing after all, “she's obnoxious, she's not as good as you think she is, she'll slow me down or get in the way,” he listed off his reasons.

So called ‘boba’ eyes roll as Noah doesn't even make an attempt at hiding his own annoyance towards Matt's complaints. “I don't know what your issue with her is,” he says, pointing a finger in Matt's direction, “but you need to get over it. The decision is made and I'm not going to listen to you hate on my friend the entire time she's under our employment. Which means suck it up.”

And that was that. Case closed, at least in Noah's opinion.

With tour upcoming, Matt had a long list of things that needed to be finalized before they left. Normally it would have taken him days to get through them all but she showed up (and Matt could only describe her as a whirlwind) and took one look at his list and completed more than half in a day.

With ease and professionalism, she finalized hotel rooms across the tour as well as a slew of other things, leaving Matt more angry than relieved. She made his job easier while simultaneously making it all look too easy.

“What's with that scowl?” she asked, smacking him in the face with a pen in what he could only assume was her attempt at being silly. “If you want, I can pick up lunch while you finish your half of the list?”

The pen is yanked from her hand and tossed aside, hitting the floor with a clack and although it was a relatively quiet noise, it felt all too loud in the sudden silence between them. There was an intensity in Matt's eyes that she hadn't before noticed. He suddenly seemed to loom over her, as if his anger had made him taller but she was used to tantrums and shitty people, it came with the territory of working in the industry and so she held her ground, meeting his gaze with an unblinking stare.

The silence remained for a good 30 seconds as neither of them said anything, each waiting for the other to back down and break the silence first. She wasn't afraid, at least not of Matthew Dierkes, he was all talk and no walk, and she knew it. And he knew she knew.

“You should quit,” he says finally, breaking the silence between them with quiet words filled with anger. “I don't want you here.”

“Too bad, throw this small dick syndrome tantrum elsewhere because we both know I'm doing a good job,” and with that, she spun around on her heel and walked away, head high and without a glance back in his direction to see whether or not the words had stung him.

He didn't want to admit it or even think about what it meant for him, but her attitude and crude remark, paired with that cleat confidence went straight to his dick.

The thought of her plagued his mind. He ran and re-ran her every word in his head, again and again as he laid in bed that night. He fell asleep to thoughts of her and those thoughts turned into dreams.

Dreams that woke Matt up in the middle of the night, his cock straining against his boxers as precum made a small wet patch over the fabric. He palmed his erection through his boxers, half asleep and thinking of her and how she stood up to him. He pushed his boxers down his thighs, just enough to free his cock before spitting into his palm.

It didn't take much - just a few strokes over his cock before he was shooting ropes of cum over his stomach and chest.

“Fuckin’ Y/N,” he murmured.

Gear and suitcases and everything in between had been loaded onto the bus and band and crew had chosen their bunks. Matt wasn't exactly sure how it happened but he had a sneaking suspicion that Noah had been involved, but Matt had ended up with the bunk beneath Y/N's. His suspicions were immediately confirmed by a wink from the frontman and Matt had a moment of fear, wondering if somehow Noah had found out about Matt's late night masturbation session and who exactly he had been getting off to.

He shook those thoughts from his head because as weird as Noah could sometimes be, he definitely wasn't a mind reader.

“Uh-oh, Matt, looks like we're bunked close together. Hope that doesn't cause you to have a piss party,” she stated, tossing her bag into her bunk.

“The shits a piss party?” he grumbled back, immediately back to his hater self. “You say the stupidest shit. Fuck, you're so annoying.”

Jolly, from his own bunk, nodded solemnly at Matt. “I've had a piss party,” he stated and then proceeded not to elaborate further and Matt wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

As the weeks crept by, Matt became more and more agitated. He couldn't deny that Noah had been right about Y/N being a good assistant tour manager. No matter what kind of shit was flung at her, she handled it quickly and professionally which ultimately made Matt's job easier.

He tried to find things to nitpick and reasons to be mad, but he failed. Her time working as a tour manager for other, smaller bands, had given her plenty of experience and the very few times that she came up lacking or un-knowledgeable, she proved to be a quick learner.

As much as he hated to admit it, she was the proverbial yin to his yang.

“Hey, Matt,” her voice knocked him out of his thoughts about her and he turned to face her. They'd just finished loading the last of their gear back up and the band had dispersed to figure out their dinner situations. “Let's go get dinner,” she continued and then gave him a mischievous grin. “You're paying since you've been eye-fucking me for the last hour.”

“I have not,” he denied, immediately following after her as she began walking in some direction, clearly having an idea of where she wanted them to get dinner. “You are so fucking full of yourself, you know?”

“Yeah, because I'm the fucking shit,” she answered. “Plus anyone with eyes can tell you wish I was full of you.” She waggled a finger at him. “I finally have you figured out. Well actually, Noah figured you out and then ratted you out.”

Noah Fucking Sebastian. He loved the man but hated how easily Noah figured out how to fuck with him. And this time it was by realizing that Matt had developed feelings for Y/N.

He snorted and then went silent, unable to think of a comeback for what she had said. So instead he just shrugged and followed her into the little restaurant. He was somewhat surprised the place was still open but that was the bright side to American tours, there was always one or two little places with kitchens that didn't close until one or two am.

He followed her up to the counter and, yes, he paid for her meal too. It wasn't until they sat down to eat that he finally had input to give on her little revelation towards his feelings.

“Noah's a bitch,” he grumbled. “But yeah, fuck it, he's right. I guess you aren't that bad.”

She laughed and then choked on her drink, causing him to smile. “It didn't take him long to figure it out since you keep moaning my name in your sleep at night. Here I thought you were fighting me in your dreams but Noah said those were wet dream moans.”

It was Matt's turn to choke then. “I fucking did not do that,” he argued in horror.

“Ask anyone on the bus, they'll agree that you did,” came her amused response. “Kinda cute in a perverted way.”

“That shits fucking embarrassing,” he said, unable to believe that this was how the current admission to feelings was happening. If he wasn't as close to the guys as he was, he might have crawled into a hole to die.

She caught him by surprise, leaning over their little dinner table to steal a kiss. “Shit talk me again and I'll beat your ass,” she warns.

“Not going to lie, that kinda turns me on,” he laughs, cheeks going a little red because its true.

“Well in that case the next hotel we're all in, come to my room and I'll beat your ass for fun.”

He reaches across the table, taking her hand in his, not exactly sure what this meant for their relationship or how they would even define whatever this was between them.

“Noah's never going to let you live this down,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Lets fuck with him and fight even worse and see how long it takes for him to figure it out.”

“I might be a little in love with you now,” he says, agreeing to her proposal. “Maybe we can trick him into buying us dinner while we're at it.”

The two of them walked back to the bus, practically giggling over their little prank idea on Noah.

Noah, who took one look at them over the top of his phone when they got back, and then proceeded to announce to the whole bus that Matt and Y/N were dating.

“Please,” Noah says after the announcement, “you two have been in denial about liking each other since you met. I'm just surprised it took this long. You're both welcome for setting you up by the way. When you get married, I expect to be the maid of honor and the best man.”

“You motherfucker. I love you though,” Y/N says with a laugh.

“Hey, remember the bus rules you two,” Jolly adds quickly. “No fucking on the bus. Unless I'm allowed to join.”

Matt handed his new girlfriend the pillow off his bunk wordlessly and then cheered her on as she used it to beat the shit out of Jolly.

“Thanks, Noah,” Matt added quietly and Noah just laughed before retreating to his own bunk.

#matt dierkes fanfic #matt dierkes x reader

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pixydustworld · 1 year

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The marriage law was announced at 2pm on a Tuesday.

By 2:15 Hermione had already drafted a motion to dismiss the law entirely. It was a good motion, too. If she’d sent a copy to Ron, he would’ve replied with: wow! lots of words! good stuff!

At 2:17 her motion was denied.

“It’s best to just accept defeat.” Malfoy said from his side of the office, bookshelves neat, papers all stacked in order. “You won’t win this one.”

“I’m not in the habit of giving up.” Hermione snapped. Her side of the office was cluttered, less pristine. Her bookshelf had a nasty habit of overflowing all over the floor, stacks of books balancing precariously on every surface. “A fire hazard.” Malfoy had sneered at her once, “Breaking several codes.”

“Hm.” Malfoy said, “I hadn’t noticed.” He was smiling softly, like he’d just told the funniest joke in the world. Waiting, almost patiently for her to smile. Stupid man with his stupid grin, Hermione wanted to throw a book at his head.

“This is archaic.” Hermione hissed. “The Ministry has gone too far. They can't force us to marry anyone.”

Even as she spoke, a squirming feeling of doubt was beginning to take root in her chest — being friends with Harry came with many things. Companionship and love, but it also came with a healthy distrust of the government (like a free gift basket! but terrible one).

Malfoy ignored her complaints. "Marriage Acts aren't as mid-evil as you're making them out to be." He said, with that annoying voice he used when he knew he was right about something, "They serve a purpose."

"A purpose?" Hermione could practically feel the beginnings of an aneurysm. A fitting death, slumped over her desk, surrounded by unfinished documents and discovered by Draco Malfoy, "Are you actually defending this?"

She would have to find a new partner. A new office, one where he wasn't constantly surrounding her, swimming on the edge of her peripheral vision. Maybe Dean Thomas would let her set up a current workplace in his records closet, he was always bragging about how it was big enough for him to take naps in during work —

"No." Malfoy said, somehow even more amused now, "I don't support it."

"Oh." Hermione said, very eloquently, "That's good."

"But," Malfoy continued, still distinctly unruffled while Hermione was very ruffled, "Most people will be unfazed. It's a Pure-Blood tradition. My parents have always planned to arrange a marriage contract.” Malfoy shrugged, “It’s not absolutely unheard of.”

“Well," Hermione said, out of breath from all the pacing she was doing, "Your parents are terrible.”

“Of course.” Malfoy said, like it was obvious. “They would never allow me the opportunity to sully the Malfoy name. Producing the correct heir is the only thing I’ll ever be good at.”

Hermione frowned. “Hearing about your family isn’t good for our working relationship. It makes me feel bad for you.”

“We can’t have that.” Malfoy said.

“No,” she agreed with a sigh, “we can’t have that.”

“So, tell me Granger. What is your plan?” His grin became less self indulgent, more fake. “You’ll have to marry someone. It'll undoubtably be the event of the season — have a fiancé you’ve been hiding from me?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Do you think I could hide anything from you?”

Malfoy knew when she changed the scent of her shampoo, when she switched up her coffee order — he even knew if she was sleeping less than usual. It was impossibly annoying to be around someone so observant, someone so intent on cataloguing her every move.

"If I had a secret fiancé, which I don't, I'm confident that you're competent enough to have sniffed him out by now."

Malfoy responding grin was slow and syrupy. "You think I'm competent?"

“Piss off, Malfoy.”

“Is he shorter than me? Is that it? Didn’t want to introduce us because you knew he’d feel bad?”

“You’re taller than everyone.” Hermione said, annoyed, again, “You would obviously be taller than my imaginary fiancé. You’re like an angelic giraffe.”

“You think I’m angelic?”

“No.”

"Two compliments on top of each other, are you feeling alright, Granger?"

"Shut up."

At 2:20, Hermione began to clean her side of the office, desperate for an excuse not to talk to Malfoy.

At 2:22, Harry slammed through her door, completely demolishing the (very little) progress Hermione had made in cleaning up her side of the office.

“I’ll marry you.” Harry said, slightly out of breath, like he’d sprinted all the way to her office, “Do you think we can kiss without making a face? We’ll have to practice.”

“I’m not marrying you.” Hermione said from the floor behind her desk, “You are engaged to Theo.” She was laying on her back with a book covering her face, feeling rightfully sorry for herself.

“Theo won’t mind.” Harry said in the voice he reserved for whenever he wanted people to listen to him (i am harry potter! and i did not spill mustard on the couch! you have to believe me, i saved the world!) “It will be quick. I can get us rings before the day is over.”

"No." Hermione said, still on the floor, "I've gone along with enough of your stupid ideas. This is too much."

Because, despite it all, Harry would do this. Without hesitation, blind loyalty and unwavering determination — Harry would marry her and be pleased with his choices. He was lovely, but at times, Harry could be a misguided idiot.

"This is where you draw the line?" Malfoy hummed, "Interesting to catch a glimpse into the inner workings of your mind."

Finally scrambling to her feet (after a few more seconds of wallowing) Hermione was horrified to find a familiar look on Harry's face — one that promised something stupid.

"I'll figure it out. " Harry said, with a shrug that reminded Hermione of their childhood (occidentally, the stress headache she was feeling also reminded her of their childhood). He pointed a stoic finger at her. "Don't make a face when I kiss you."

Then, he left.

“Theo wouldn’t mind,” Malfoy said in a helpful voice, “He’d probably marry you as well. Would it be Granger-Potter-Nott? Or Granger-Nott-Potter? Better figure that out soon. Potter seems eager to find those rings.”

Hermione threw a book at his head.

Malfoy caught it with ease, his stupid Quidditch hands.

“I have an idea,” Malfoy said after a moment.

Hermione ignored him. “There has to be a way out of this.” She was pacing again, sensible shoes kicked off to the corner (where she’d undoubtedly forget them) “I could write another motion? A longer one this time. With more quotes.”

“Marry me instead.”

Hermione stopped pacing. “Excuse me?”

“I’m your best option.”

“I have many options —

“Weasley already tricked someone into marrying him and Potter is engaged to my only friend.” He frowned, in a mocking sort of way. “Did I leave anyone out?”

“No.” Hermione said flatly. “You didn’t.”

“Alright then. Marry me.”

“Hah.” She said, “Hah. I take back everything I’ve ever said about you. Malfoy, you are funny.”

“I’m being serious.” He said, looking annoyed. Fantastic, they were both annoyed. Like they always were.

“We can get married before the law passes and then you can do what you do best.” Malfoy continued, like that was a totally normal thing to say.

“Which is?” Without her shoes, the height difference was unbearably noticeable. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. At some point he'd stopped being a willowy wraith of a person and began the unfortunate process of filling out.

He didn’t look away. “Destroy everyone’s expectations and free the downtrodden.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What would you get out of this arrangement?”

Malfoy shrugged, too practiced to be nonchalant. “I’d be married to a war hero. It would do wonders for my reputation.”

“And you would be married to me.” Hermione said, beginning to feel like this was getting too real, “We both know that would never happen.”

“Never?”

“Never.” She agreed.

He wasn’t smiling that lazy smile from before, this one was different. Sharper. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Besides,” Hermione continued on loudly, “you’re no gentleman. No need to pretend. I don’t need saving, I’ll figure this out myself.”

“You don’t need to.” Malfoy said, “I will help. I want to fuck over the Ministry for many reasons, but mainly because they declined your motion.”

He was on her side of the office now, leaning casually against her desk, inches away from where she stood. He was too pretty up close, like staring at the sun.

“It was very good.” Hermione breathed.

Malfoy nodded, almost too good at pretending to be sincere.

“I’m sure it was good. You touched it. Everything you touch is golden.”

“You truly want to help me?”

“I’ve only offered several times.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “All to fuck over the Ministry? No other reason?”

“Maybe I want you all to myself.”

Hermione's eye twitched.

"Don't tease me." She managed to hiss. "Not about this."

She saw when he realized, a flicker of excitement in his eyes — when he noticed her apparent misery at how completely and helplessly she was drawn to him.

"I'd never dream of it." Malfoy said warmly, "You could kill me with ease, only an idiot would be careless around you."

She thought of all the long nights they spent together, crammed in their tiny little office. How she looked forward to her day, if only to see his stupidly pointy face. How she tried to date, but couldn’t. Because it wasn’t right — her dates were too kind, too short.

Not him.

How, through everything, he was the first person she thought of in the morning, the person she thought of in the darkness of the night, when no one could see her wandering hands — the person she looked at for a challenge, for relief and support.

Despite her best attempts, Hermione Granger had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy and now, here he was, seeming to share in her suffering.

“We’d have to consummate the marriage.” She said, giving him one last out. “You’d have to see me naked.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“I’m very bossy,” she said, “and I work all the time.”

“Good thing we share an office.”

“I’m not easy to love.”

Malfoy scoffed. “It’s been easy enough for me.”

He was close enough to touch, so uncharacteristically open. Looking down at her with fondness she didn’t know he possessed.

“I’m selfish.” Malfoy warned, “Do not forget that. I will help you destroy this law and anything else you want. Burn it all down if you want to. But I won’t be letting you go. Not now, after I've gotten you."

“I suppose that’s fine.” Hermione said softly, watching as his hand moved to touch her face, warm against her skin. "It'll be bearable to be around you, I suppose."

As he held her face in his hands, Hermione watched as his grin transform into something different, something new — a smile she'd only seen glimpses of, one only for her. "I'll work very hard to make our marriage a tolerable one." He said.

"Good," Hermione breathed, stretching up to kiss him, to finally press her lips against his, "I can't wait."

Hermione was married at 3pm on a Tuesday.

It was a small ceremony.

Harry, although he'd never publicly admit it, was relieved.

Despite his best attempts, he would've made a face when Hermione had kissed him.

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chrollohearttags · 3 months

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it's ☃️ here again and I have more questions but reverb edition bc I love how 3 dimensional the characters are...

1. Now what is rapper!connie's true IDEALL type (if he actually has one). like he's immediately folding and falling to his knees because she's everything he wants type shit.

2. Do any of the pole assassins ladies swing the other way perchance...? IDK if you mentioned this but i'm getting a vibe...perchance.

3. What are mika and jean's favorite things about one another?

4. How would eren react to being posted on the shaderoom and having them get in his business? I recently saw a video of summer walker flipping the shaderoom off and I screamed 😭😭

5. IDK if you didn't go into detail but is sasha an influencer here as well or an artist?

6. Does eren like any other forms of art besides music/writing in this universe? I don't feel EJ is the type to like go walk a museum (or maybe he is) but I feel he definitely holds some appreciation for like visual arts yk??

7. Is influencer!y/n any good at games? I remember you mentioning him being a gamer and I had the idea of him teaching her to play madden or COD or some shit and her being sooo bad to the point where he gets a little upset bc no way you're this bad at the game.

once again that is all the questions my brain has come up with, until next time *fades off into background*

hello again, snowanon!! 🤍 I swear you always come with the best asks. I’m actually working on reverb right now so thanks for this! (sorry these took so long btw!)

1. now Connie isn’t the type of dude to discriminate when it comes to the ladies. He loves them all but he will undoubtedly fall in love (and maybe propose on the spot) for a tall women or BBW. he loves him a girl who’s taller than him or a plus size lady. I’d say his range is anywhere from Meg to Lizzo. But he really just a loves a woman who can make him laugh. Somebody he can clown with.

2. Yes 3/5 do in fact! 😭 our girl (y/n) is bisexual. Eren is honestly the only man she loves. Niesha is pansexual + Syrai is lesbian. Kelley and Brianne have only ever dated men but they’re not against the idea of being with a woman!

3. omg I literally love these two so much and I hadn’t had a chance to elaborate yet but Jean and Mika are each other’s saving graces, dramatic as it sounds. Jean helped Mika stand up for herself when she felt powerless and she helped him realize his dream and that he was worth more than being on the sidelines. I think Jean’s favorite thing about Mika is her determination and how smart she is. If she wants something done, nothing can stop her. She’s headstrong but she’s soft in the same turn. Not in a weak way or that she wants to be babied but she’s so compassionate and emotional about the things + people she loves. As for Mika, she loves how much of a natural leader Jean is. He’s dominating but in the best way possible. He knows she can handle her own business but she doesn’t have to when he’s around. She can be comfortable in her feminine energy without feeling weak. All in all, they just compliment one another so well!

4. LMAO! the day Eren ever ends up on the ShadeRoom, everybody’s getting their feelings hurt. 😭 what makes it so bad is that it would probably be for some dumb shit, like them trying to messy about he and (y/n)’s relationship and now he gotta cuss everybody and their family dog out :(

5. so the next few chapters are going to feature Sasha heavily but my baby is actually Mikasa’s assistant for the time being. Her ultimate goal is to do music, more so as like a country hip-hop artist. She’s basically mentoring under her and Jean both.

6. Eren does have a great appreciation for other art forms. He has a few unique and expensive paintings in his home and he himself loves to draw. Many of his tattoo pieces are artworks of his. He also enjoys stage plays, shockingly! (he’s really a theater kid cosplaying as a delinquent, don’t let him fool you 😭😭) but he enjoys reading from time to time as well.

7. okay listen! my sis be giving it her all to beat this man LMAO. Eren is so damn competitive that he can’t just play shit for fun, he makes everyone want to fight him. But the one game he does NAWT want to see her in is Tekken. That’s been her favorite series since she was a kid and she gives him the work every single time.

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anoonimthepoorchad · 4 months

Text

I went to see my teacher the other day, hadn't been to my old school in ages. Since it's the centre of the city, she told me missiles were flying over the school during air raids and sometimes the kids barely had the time to hide in the basement.

On my way home I passed a small trophy weaponry installation, with broken russian tanks and artillery that was beyond repair and couldn't be reused for fighting back in the war. Among those were missiles, similar to those used against us, the civilians, including me. When I hide in the corridor with my family and shake while explosions sound from different directions, I can't imagine clearly what is exactly the danger in the air. I kinda envision a meteor or a burning essence of death staring at my home with hunger and bloodlust. But it's a piece of metal with a huge pack of dynamite covered in various wires. It's thick as a human and slightly taller than me, around 2 meters long I think (I'm 170cm).

A piece of ugly death, the kind everyone in the world is afraid to meet, just out here, dormant, quiet, dead. And then you go away from it, following the usual routes on the streets, because there is so much to do to survive, but the metal piece of death is still there, it's everywhere, and even when you go to sleep it looks straight at your body like at a corpse. It follows your future and you feel it when the sirens start screaming, or when your phone is bursting with worried messages and air raid updates. You can even feel it in everyday life, when you start questioning whether the money you spent on holiday sweets or cheap junk food could have saved you in the future, or saved someone's life on the frontline. And you know you don't do enough but who's there to blame for it if not you. Now you're hunted by two enemies: russians and your own sins, and they never stop following you.

Of course, you live to see another day after dangerous nights, and you keep doing what you can to help. But similar to kinzhal missiles, that are called kinzhals or daggers because they stick into targets and then explode inside of the buildings, russians have already wounded you by endagering your life, home, future, family, everything. Then you feel the dagger inside your mind explode, poisoning every second of "peaceful" life. I've survived the first wave but with each day I can feel the glass and shrapnel poking around my skull, making me behave irrationally or depressively, driving me to believe there is no future for me. I know we'll win, there is no other way, but personally I'm plagued by the damage caused to my psyche. Like everyone else here, in some way or another, we're hurt from the war and we're not safe at all, still fighting for our survival and for the hope of a better future.

I guess the only way I can conclude this post is to ask for help from people reading it. Spread the news about Ukraine, read more about current events from Ukrainians, even on this hellsite. Beware of russian propaganda, don't forget that russians are responsible for this hell. Learn and read and grow to put a stop to this illness of imperialism in your hearts at least. May we all see a better future as result of our fight.

#ukraine #war in ukraine #stand with ukraine #russia #russia is a terrorist state #fuck russia #russian war crimes #war blog

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missvelvetsstuff · 10 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/missvelvetsstuff/719658565357420544/i-have-a-request-please-if-its-open

Thank you so much for taking my request.

So Steve and the reader met while he was on the run and he fell in love with her and Thanos blipped the people but she was there for him no matter what

He proposed to her before they got married Scott lang showed up and etc

Steve saw Peggy and started acting weird with the reader and after returning the stones he came back old asf😭

But the reader had a surprise for him (a pregnancy) what he wanted all those 5 years he spent with her and she got mad and he argued back saying he deserved after everything he did for the people😭 so she didn’t tell him about the baby and left

After a few months she was at the grocery store and ran into Bucky and his eyes were on her swollen belly and she saw the look on his face and said “yes it’s his baby” on the way to his apartment the thousands questions on his mind “did Steve knew his girl was pregnant? Why would he leave her? If i was him I would’ve never left her. Okay stop she is /was your best friend’s girl but he left her someone he once kissed.

There was a lot going on Bucky’s mind, so decided to locate her and find where she lives so he did find her and she was shocked to see it was bucky on the door

So he demand to help her and they became closer and more comfortable around each other and ofc Bucky told Sam about the situation and Sam told the old Steve 😤 and Steve tried contacting her but couldn’t but Sam told him where she lives and he saw his Best Friend and best girl kissing while she was carrying his baby he got mad and possessive/obsessive so he went back and came back younger you know take what was his before he got selfish and left🙄

You can add more angst I wanna cry😭

I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to respond to your request. It took me a minute to flesh it all out and it'll be 5-6 chapters. Hope you like it.

This story was getting too long for me to manage so I've broken it up into chapters and will be posting each when I finish editing. I'm almost done writing so it should be posted by the end of the week. It's been a minute since I saw Civil War so please forgive me if I mess up any details.

Apparently I'm unable to write short blurbs or drabbles, sorry.

As always reader is female and above average height.

Hope y'all enjoy.

The Wrong One

Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

1. Meeting

Warnings: swearing, angst

Y/N had watched the news about the Avengers fight in Germany. All the anchors calling it a 'civil war' but she was in NYC in 2012 and saw the aliens trying to invade. She knew that the world was less safe with the Avengers fighting amongst themselves.

After losing her brother in the Battle of New York she felt her mortality acutely so quit her office job, packed up her apartment and put everything in storage and left to see the world. She had no other family or close friends to keep her in the states and yearned for something different. At this point she had seen most of Europe but lingered in Ireland, entranced by its beauty and the wonderful people.

The bar in Dublin where she was working was quiet with only a couple of customers, typical for suppertime in the middle of the week, so she worked on inventory and organizing the storage room to make room for tomorrows delivery.

The bell rang and she went up to the front to see who was there. It was a couple, the man was taller than her and took off his cap as he walked in. He had broad shoulders and a tight t-shirt, sunglasses covered his eyes and he walked to the furthest corner booth, facing the door.

The woman, pretty with blonde hair, came up to the bar "4 shots of whiskey and 2 pints of Guinness." and handed her a bill "keep the change"

Y/N nodded "Thank you. I'm Y/N if you need anything else."

Y/N knew who they were even with their attempted disguises but she certainly wasn't going to help any crooked government catch some of the Avengers so kept her mouth shut.

The next night the captain returned with another man who was black and had an easy smile, obviously the Falcon. He came up to the bar to order their drinks and flirted a little with her.

This kept up for a few weeks. Always the Captain but he had a few companions that seemed to be on a rotation, Falcon, the Scarlet Witch and a tall slender blonde man that Y/N couldn't place. Black Widow hadn't returned since the first night.

One night the Captain finally took off his sunglasses and smiled at her which made her knees weak and stomach flip, he was beautiful. Every night after that he graced her with that smile. She wanted so badly to talk to him, outside of drink orders and thanks, but didn't want to intrude.

Then she saw something on the news about them being sighted outside of Dublin and they stopped coming in. She hoped they could avoid the authorities. When the pub was slow she daydreamed about the Captain coming back to sweep her off her feet in some grand romantic gesture and she would go on the run with him.

She laughed at herself for her childish fantasies but figured they weren't hurting anyone. It wasn't like she had men, or women, knocking down the door to her apartment above the pub.

A couple of months passed uneventfully and life stayed predictable. Until the Captain came back in by himself. She felt her heart speed up, butterflies swarming her stomach and a tingle in her core.

She smiled at him "Evening. Would you like your usual or are you feeling adventurous?"

He looked at her, right into her soul and smiled, making her feel faint. "I'll take a pint and..." He paused awkwardly and she waited patiently "and, your, uh your number?"

Y/N laughed and the Captain felt his heart clench, he hadn't seen anyone like her since...

"Are you sure? You don't seem like-"

He interrupted her, almost shouting "NO!" Realizing how loud he was he spoke softly, giving her a chill, when he said "I mean yes, definitely yes" and looked at her hopefully.

"How could any girl refuse a request like that?" and took his offered phone to put her number in, naming herself 'Barmaid'.

His grin grew until he realized something "You don't have an Irish accent. Where are you from?"

She laughed lightly "It's called an Irish brogue and I keep hoping it'll rub off on me but no such luck. It's been almost 2 years and some of my regulars tease that even an Irish brogue can't overpower a New Yawk accent."

"New York? Whereabouts? Brooklyn here."

She smiled knowingly at him "I already knew that, learned about you in school. I wrote a term paper about your friend Bucky Barnes."

Steve blushed and chuckled "When did you realize who I was?"

"The first time you came in with Natasha Romanoff, you were pretty easy to recognize. Don't worry, I won't sell you out. I've always been on your side."

Steve looked at her seriously "Not always on my side if you wrote a report about Bucky." He teased.

"I seem to recall you always being on the same side. I noticed you never bring him in, is he ok?"

Steve nodded, touched by her warmth and concern "Yeah, he's uh somewhere safe, getting help to get rid of the Hydra programming."

She smiled "I'm glad he's being cared for. What about you? Are you taking care of yourself?"

He sighed "Not many opportunities for that on the road. I'm more concerned about my friends, if we were caught....."

He left off and looked at his hands, not wanting to contemplate that possibility.

Y/N reached out to touch his cheek gently, smiling when he leaned into her hand, and pulled his face up to look at her. "You'll be in just as much trouble as they will." She cupped his other cheek "You need to take care of yourself too."

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying her soft touch. Feeling sparks where her skin touched his, a stirring in his groin making a small moan slip out. When he realized it, his eyes snapped open and looked into hers.

His eyes darted around the room, confirming that no one else was in the bar before he leaned forward until his lips brushed hers, his eyes fluttering closed.

Y/N could feel her heart racing, was Captain America really kissing her in a pub in Ireland? She moved her hand from his face to the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

He smiled into the kiss and teased her lips with his tongue which she accepted and the kiss intensified until they were both out of breath.

Steve pulled back, smiling "I've been wanting to do that since the first night I came in."

She tskd him "And we've been wasting all this time? For shame Captain."

He leaned in to kiss her again before she put a finger on his lips. "I'm actually still on the clock but closing in an hour. If you want to hang out until I'm done, we can get some food and eat at my place." She asked holding her breath. She hadn't taken many men home since she stopped here but how could she not.

His grin grew and he blushed bright red as he nodded "Yes, absolutely."

They spent that night talking, getting to know each other in between making out and discovering each other's bodies.

The next few weeks they spent as much time together as possible, both dreading the time when he would have to move on.

One night a month after they first kissed, Steve came later than usual and she could tell he had something on his mind.

After she gave him his drink he grabbed her hand and looked at her sadly. She knew before he said anything. "You have to go, don't you?"

He tried to keep the tears in his eyes from falling and couldn't find the words so just nodded. After a few minutes he composed himself and spoke softly "I'm so sorry. I never meant. I can't find the words."

She nodded sympathetically and held his hand "I know Steve it's alright."

"No" he shook his head "It's not alright. None of this situation is alright but my time with you has been the only real peace I've had in, well ever really."

He pulled his hand away and stood suddenly "I'm sorry but I have to go. I'll try to come back soon."

She stood up and went up the stairs. When she came back she was on her phone. She finished her call and looked at Steve with a smile on her face, then grabbed his hand, a backpack in the other hand "So let's go."

Chapter 2

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #angst with a happy ending #the wrong one

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idcbabyialreadylostmymind · 1 year

Text

Trust Pt.3

Pairing- Sully family x darkfey!reader

Pairing- The Sullys meet a special girl.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4

You waited till everyone was on their ikrans until you lifted yourself behind Lo'ak. And then you heard some chirps from behind you, turning you face-to-face with your favorite four birds. They started to angrily chirp at you. "Okay, okay I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving." You say and then Tsìo quietly chirps something. "Is it okay if they come with us, they can hunt for themselves." You say quieting Vìrtì’s chirps of protest and Neytiri looks at Jake who only shrugs. "You can come." You say and they all happily gawk. Ivä and Wìsey came forward holding a sack motioning to your hands.

Taking the bag you open it and two small creatures pop out and you giggle. They were the creatures Neytiri almost killed before you met each other. "Unpey and Tarmei would you like to come too?" You ask and they nod their heads. "Okay well you guys will fly by yourselves and you two will have to sit between me and Lo'ak." You say and they all agree, all getting ready to leave.

You look back at them, "Okay let us leave." You say and they tighten their grip on the reins that were on the ikran taking flight.

The flight was difficult with the changing weather conditions, Turk asking “Are we there yet?” every ten minutes. But finally it seemed you got closer to the sanctuary when Jake looked back at Neytiri and nodded.

From what you could see from the passing islands all there is, is water. A reef clan, that is where you would seek refuge.

Pulling you from thoughts at an abrupt stop, you jump off of the ikran putting Tarmei and Unpey in your bag, their eyes sticking out slightly. Many na'vi surrounded you and the Sullys, some hissed at the family and as you walked closer to them some gasped, pulling their children from you as some bared their fangs at you. You lived in a forest by yourself for sixteen years of your life. This is way too much social interaction you could take. Backing away you accidentally bump into Kiri. "Sorry." You say and she just smiles as she hooks her pinky with yours.

What seemed to be the Olo'eyktan and Tsahik came through the clan of Na'vi as the people part, letting a tall man in, taller than the Toruk Makto and the sky demon who tried kidnapping the Sullys the other day. He had tattoos on his face and arms, the clothing he wore and the aura vibrating gently off of him to let known not to be afraid, but he presented himself as a warrior as well. The woman next to him gave off a more protective aura and she glared at all of the darker blue Na’vi not noticing you. She also had tattoos, her attire matched the Olo’eyktan, she stood out from all the other aquatic Na’vi around her as she was the only one to wear a skirt.

“Olo’eyktan Tonowari I see you.” Jake said, giving a traditional greeting to the man that he stood in front of. “JakeSully.” The man greets him. “Why have you come here?” He asked and Jake sighs. “We seek uturu (sanctuary).” Jake says the crowd surrounding you audibly gasps, “Uturu?!” The Tsahik says offensively looking over to Tonowari she sharply inhales before letting him speak. “We are reef people you are forest people, your skills will have no use here.” He says and it was a physical panic that went through the group when he said that Jake quickly said; “We will adapt, we can adapt!” Quickly afterward.

“The Metkayina are at peace. I cannot allow war to come here.” He says and many scattered agreements come from behind them. “I’m done with war, I just wanna keep my family safe.” Jake says and at that word that always gets you, family, yet another reminder that you are alone. You turn your face away from the conversation, you look down and it’s a girl her thumb in her mouth one hand holding onto her mom as her mother holds her behind. Her eyes gleam up at your cold expression. She takes the thumb out of her mouth opening her small hands she waves at you, your eyebrows furrow slightly, mouth parting as it runs dry, your chest tightens. Picking your hand up you wave back at her and she smiles before running off.

Pulled back into the conversation as Ronal is circling around all of you. She picked up Lo’aks arms saying how weak they were Lo’ak looked away as she publicly degraded him. Going to Kiri picking her tail up, “They will be slow in the water, they are weak,useless” (damn she dragging that shit on). She says throwing it down Kiri immediately picks it up, rubbing it and turning to the Tsahik. “No we are not.” Kiri defends her family. The sides of your lips twitch up into a smirk. Ronal glares at the girl until her cold gaze slides its way to you slightly opening.

She walks closer to you. She was slightly taller than you and it seemed as she wasn’t sure how she felt about you. “You are not a Na’vi.” She says and you take a deep breath, “That obvious?” You ask with a quick smile afterward. She grabs your jaw with a little harshness letting her see your teeth, you bared them as best you could but seeing the predicament you were in you probably couldn’t do that to well.

Her hand was knocked off your face as Neytiri stood in front of you hissing at the shaman of the other clan.

The woman was quick to recover from the small push as she quickly hissed back at Neytiri. Rubbing the soreness of your jaw away, you watch the scene in front of you. As the woman had their standoff Jake tried to intervene, “I - I am sorry for my mate—“

“Do not Apologize for me.” Neytiri quickly hissed at him. “The flight was long, she is just tired.” And then silence ran through as Ronal and Neytiri still had their standoff.

“My husband was Toruk Makto,” Neytiri said and Jake physically cringed, “He brought the clans together in the time of great need.” She finished. Ronal looked at Jake and sneered “Seems the Great Mother had turned her back on you, Chosen One.” She said before turning to her husband.

Ronal looked at Tonowari and Tonowari looked at Ronal. It was as if they were having their own conversation in their own little world but no words needed to be exchanged. Tonowari lifted his hands up as everyone looked at him. “All Na’vi know your story and that is why we grant Uturu.” He said and many sounds of disagreement came from around. “It has been decided.” He said cutting down most of the chatter. “My children Ao’nung and Tsireya will teach your children the way of water.” He says to Jake who nods quickly. “We must be patient, they have never been in water before. They will be like baby’s taking their first steps.” Tonowari said to his clan.

“Come I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.” A girl said, you assumed it was the chief's daughter, Tsireya and the boy who seemed to be complaining to the Tsahik must be Ao’nung.

Tsireya skipped happily in front of Jake and Neytiri. Everyone seemed a little off, understandable they just had to leave their home and Tuk seemed cheerful as she bounced all the way to the new home. As you walked you observed the village. It was bright, brighter than the forest, the people were different from the Na’vi you were used to seeing, they had ocean-like eyes and their skin was the most beautiful aquatic teal in the world. They looked more built than the Omatikaya and it seemed they didn’t use ikrans for travel.

Finally you made it to the marui. “We’ll begin training tomorrow. Have a nice day.” Tsireya says before skipping off. You all stood around the air filled with tension. “This is good, this is nice.” Jake said, jumping back slightly at the sound of rugs hitting the ground harshly as Neytiri threw them down.

-Later that night-

You watch from across the marui as Jake and Neytiri talk about something. Neytiri seemed stressed, obviously. Jake seemed, you couldn’t put your finger on it and it irked you.

Turing you head from the couple only when you hear a questioning chirp. “Huh?” You ask Tsìo who chirped next to the other three birds. A few more chirps and you smile. “Love you too Tsìo.” You says rubbing her forehead a little to sleep. Sighing you look out to the moon taking in its beauty and then you feel a sip beside you looking over Neytiri looks as if she had been crying.

“It will be okay, Neytiri.” You whisper to her and she sucks a breath in before she silently cries next to you. There was nothing you really could do so you sat there and held her hand as she cried and that’s all she really needed.

Over the next few days many things would occur.

It seemed Ao’nung pushed it one too many times with Lo’ak and a fight ensued. After that even more trouble came after that, including Ao’nung taking Lo’ak outside of the reef where he was almost killed. Where were you, you may ask well you may or may not have been skipping training and avoiding people in the surrounding forests but it’s debatable.

But now everything is mostly smoothed over. You tried your best to just survive on this island with your four birds and Unpey and Tarmei, of course you heard the rumors people spread about you and the myths they came up with about you. Everyone had their own little version of you, and you were always the monster.

-Present-

Your eyes widen as a sickening stiffness shoots through your back making you gasp. Jake sat up next to Neytiri hearing the gasp he, turned his head to you, “Y/N?” You sit up as best you could and ignore the way you have an itch to scratch where your left wing would be. “Yes.” You say through gritted teeth. “Are you going out today?” He asked and you breathe through your nose and stand up. “Yes I just need to change.” You say grabbing fresh clothing, wobbling to the changing area. You change out of the brown sleeping clothes and slip into a black shirt that had an open back and some pants you made that were fully black. Vìrtì, Tsìo, Ivä, and Wìsey all flew around the opening of the marui looking for something.

Walking out next to Neteyam you look at him and tip your head at him as he returns the gesture. “What are you doing today Y/N?” Neteyam asked and you looked at him studying his face and his posture. He was hiding something. “Nothing, I was going to walk to the beach with Unpey and Tarmei.” You say to him as you walk out the marui. Neteyams arms tense up and he inhanles sharply, a chirp was heard from behind you.

Turning around to face the birds, your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean the fish boys stole Unpey and Tarmei?” You ask, jaw clenching afterward.

“Yeah,” Neteyam said. “About that.” Turning around to face him once more. “What happened.” You say. “The little creatures—“. he said before he was cut off. “Unpey and Tarmei.” You correct him. “Yes, yes.” He says before continuing. “They were playing on the beach as me and Lo’ak rode on our ilus around the beach. When Ao’nung and his friends came out of nowhere and just picked them up by their little whiskers and threw them in the air and I didn’t know what to do so I came here to tell you.” Neteyam finished and you felt anger seep into you.

You quickly calm yourself, “Anger won’t solve this.” You told yourself as you took a final breath. “Do you know where he is?” You ask. Neteyam was confused by your calmness. “I suppose where he and his friends always hang out by those stacked rocks by the beach, you know?” He asks. “Yes I do.” You say as you walk looking back at the four birds you say, “Come on.” And they follow you.

You pick your pace up the closer and closer you get to the spot. And when you eyes landed on Ao’nung throwing Unpey in the air to his friends you almost lost it right there. Stalking you way behind Ao’nung who had both Unpey and Tarmei who looked absolutely drained in his hands. It looked as if he was going to throw them again but stopped from your tight grip on his wrist. Removing the small creatures from his hands you push his wrist away from your hand. Before anyone could do anything you turned away from this whispering apologies to them and checking for injuries. Stopping only for a moment to put them down. “I hope you are okay now. Come let us walk on the beach, enjoy the rest of this spoiled day.” You say and they shake their head as their small feet walk parallel to yours.

It would seem in that small moment Ao’nung and those boys caught up to you as he pushed you shoulder harshly making you stumble. Turning around to face him with an annoyed face.

“Is there something you need?” You ask as his presence annoyed you the more and more time he spent around you. “Uh, yeah there is..” He said, puffing his chest. “What is it?” You blandly asked. “Why’d you take these things? They aren’t yours.” He said kicking sand towards the smaller creatures. “First,” you say, stepping in front of them. “They aren’t things or objects to own.” You finish saying. “And second, they are my friends.” You say and a snort comes from him. “Friends with literal animals?” He laughed as his friends joined in. “Well I mean you really can’t blame her she looks like a savage beast.” He says pointing at your horns. By this time all of the sully children except Tul were there as well as Tsireya and a boy named Rotxo.

Hissing at him a little he jumps back at you and you look away as you begin to walk away. His eyes look at your scars and he smirks. He taps his friend, “Hey watch this.” He whispers to the male. “Hey!” He yells to you jogging to meet your fast paced steps. “What are these scars from? Freak!” He says pushing your back slightly.

Your breath quickens as your eyes widen. Your vocal cords went mute and your tongue ran dry. Your body stood still, frozen in time. The group ran up to you two. Lo’ak pushed Ao’nung back. “Dude.” He says as he shakes his head slightly side to side.

Kiri touched your shoulder bringing you back to reality. You looked at her, your heart beat was rapid and your hands shaked. “Y/N?” She questionably asked. Bringing yourself down you blink. “Yes.” You answer. “You okay?” She asked. “Yeah.” You say wiping your hands on your sides. “Yeah. I’m good I’m just gonna head in for the day.” You say walking off from the group.

-A few hours later-

Truth was you went to the forest. In the few short months you’ve been living on this island you have been skipping training and exploring the forest that surrounded it. And on the southwest side of the island there was a rock shaped exactly like two couches.

It was quite a shock when you found it, but it was a nice place to get away from people.

You had been there after Ao’nung touched your scars and they wouldn’t stop throbbing. And then you head a tree branch crunch behind you. Turning around, eyes glowing defensively. And then you see fluffy hair and teal skin pop out of a bush, hands up and a smile on his face, Rotxo. He had been assigned to teach you the way of water but seeing as you always skipped you really didn’t know each other.

Your eyes stop glowing as you look away from the boy. “What are you doing here?” You ask. He sits down next to you pulling something out of a small bag he brought. “To help you.” He says and you look at him questionly. “Well my grandmother is a healer and I know that when deep wounds are not treated correctly they heal differently and hurt at random times and I guess I just had a hunch.” He explained to you. “Well anyways this ointment helps ease the pain.” He says opening a container of clear ointment. “Well my scars are too far . I will not be able to reach, thank you for the kind gesture.”

He smiles, “I could help you put it on.” He says and your head whips to look at him and your mind fights itself, it would be nice for the pain to stop but you didn’t know this boy he could just spread rumors about you. But the pain overrides your trust issues and you shake your head a little bit.

Now your back faces Rotxo. Your breath was steady and your back stood straight up. Rotxo scooted closer to you, his legs hitting the bottom of your back slightly, making you tense. “Sorry.” He whispered. “S’okay.” You whisper back. The air suddenly got thick and tense, the little space left made your body tense up.

His fingers dip into the ointment getting a generous amount bringing his fingers to the jagges scar on your left shoulder blade. He spread cool ointment on the scar, you sigh as the throbbing pain went away slowly. He continued this, switching to the right scar. The pain numbed away and you had a content smile pulling on your lips.

He rubbed them a little bit more pulling more tension out, your back hasn’t felt this free since you’ve had your wings. Pulling his hands away and cleaning them off with a clean rag he also brought.

“Thank you for the help. Most people just think the scars are freaky.” You say and he smiles and he shakes his head side to side.

After a while it was just you and him sitting there in silence looking up at the stars. “It’s getting late. I should get back before Jake starts to go crazy.” You say and Rotxo laughs. “Yeah my grandmother just wants me in before the sun rises.” He says and you smile as you get up, beginning to walk back to the village, stopping when you hear Rotxo speak. “If it helps Y/N I don’t think you're a monster, I think you're beautiful.” He says and yet again a rare smile finds its way to your lips all because of his words. “I think your beautiful too Rotxo.” You say walking off to the forest.

Tags-

@tejas-kris @destinylb @im-in-a-pansexual-panik

#avatar 2 #avatar 2022 #avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #avatar x reader fluff #avatar x y/n #avatar x you #sully family #sully family x reader #awotw #awotw x reader

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factual-fantasy · 24 days

Text

28 Asks! :DD Thank you!! :}} 🛒

@raven-bearden-the-interviewer42

She met Seafoam when she rescued his ship from a great storm out at sea. :00

She brought the ship to safety and the next morning Seafoam crawls out into the deck and pulls himself over the railing to look around. All bruised and cracked from being thrown about the ship all night <XDD

That's when their eyes meet.. she tells Seafoam the story of how she saved his ship. And Seafoam is endlessly grateful! He was so kind and genuine.. 💞

@starz-nova

XDD Thank you!! :DD I'm glad you like it! :}}

@holly-opal (Link in ask)

I have not, but I know of it! :00 A friend of mine loves it and has recommended it to me. I've always considered reading it but never got around to it <XDD

A lot of people commented that he looks a lot like Davy Jones from Pirates of the Caribbean, so I imagine yes! <XDD

He might be happy to find someone that looks similar to him! :DD Though he probably wouldn't approach her.

If he saw someone like that, it'd be on shore. And if he's on shore? He's with his crew. Which means he's got a lot of people too keep track of and protect- he has no time to get distracted by interesting ladies! XDD

@sussyhahag

Man I've put one some weight-- XDD

But thank you! I'm sure Grim and "Gengar me" would be great friends :}}}

@beryl-shade

I could! :DD Maybe he'd be another pirate, they could call him "Tack" for short! :}}

While I imagine she'd love to help out in that way, I imagine Seafoam tends to his own laundry XD

@neo-metalscottic (Gerald's one year in question)

Thank you so much!! :DD The other comic is almost done and I'm hoping to post it soon! I've just had a few rough days with my health so Its not coming out as fast as I'd hope.. 😅 That, and I've been a bit mentally preoccupied daydreaming about web comic ideas.. 😞

As for Morton, I think his skin color will be a simple case of melanism! Nothing too crazy or magical there! <XDD As for his name and how he talks, I think its a reasonable idea that he would be named after a previous king! :0 Perhaps a previous king who had melanism as well..? 👀 Who knows XD

Though with his voice, I cant imagine him talking all "hulk" like. Since he's a part of the royal family he would have access to only the best education and speech therapy (if needed-). So the likelihood of any of the Koopalings having speech problems or talking "hulk" like would be low 😅 though that's not to say that out of all his siblings, he leans towards that type of speech the most! :00

As for Kammy and Kamek, she's not nearly as old as him. I was thinking Kamek is hundreds of years old, while Kammy is the Koopa equivalent of like... 60-70? She was brought into the koopa palace to be a nanny/maid. Her power is different from Kamek's, though I haven't figured out all the specifics yet.. I guess it can be said that when it comes to magic, they both studied and mastered different things.

Now if she ever faced Kamek in combat? He would flatten her. There is no Magikoopa alive today that can compare to Kamek's power..

...Doesn't mean she's afraid to get on his nerves though XDD She loves to mess with him, knowing that he's not allowed to hurt her.🤪

And lastly, its interesting to hear about the Vehicons getting some more originality! :00 My favorite out of those 3 would have to be the red one :}}

AWE! Thank you so much!! :DD I'm honored!! :}}}

@unicornfpotatoesdir

Nah, he's always gonna be littol! XDD And thank you!! :}}

@milk-powrit

My first instinct was no.. since Jangles is like 2.5-3 feet tall and I always imagined sans to be 4.5-5 feet tall. But google says sans 2 feet tall??? XDD If we're going by Googles standards then yeah Jangles is taller- but my heart dont want to believe he's that short 🤣💀

As for the 20k post, Jangles wasn't holding anything other than Gerald.. so I assume you meant this post..? <:0 If so, its a granola bar! Its been most if my diet recently so I imagine I had a few extra lying around for Jangles <XDD

@snailfen

So far I really like it!! :DD Better than Sword and Shield imo that's for sure <XDD

I do not. <:/ But you can find all my Pokémon stuff under #pokemon scarlet and violet or #pokemon in my blogs search bar! <:D

@lathan-chillyfilm

Funky lookin guy, I like him! XDD

@tallchest13-blog

*Cici tugs at my arm

"......so you gonna drink that-" XDD Thank you!

Thank you so much!! :DD I've got my hopes back up recently, hoping I'm over all this soon! :}} 🤞🤞

@yourstrulylightstar283

Awe, thank you!! :}}}

Oh yeah, after the wars all said and done? I'm sure he's pull back on that extreme and get some repairs done 🥺

@mimiocto

You know to be honest, Grim is very dangerous becuase his brother is a Sylveon. XDD If I remember correctly, V is higher level than Grim in the game. Dragon types better watch out! XDD

Oh hey! I've seen that guy around! I used to think he was Shockwave <XDD And he appears to be an Autobot?? With how Chaotic he is in fanart I thought he was a Decepticon-💀

But anyways- yes! With the fanart I've seen of him, I think him and Bash would be great friends XDD

@artblock200322022

Thank you! I'm glad you liked those comics! :DD

Though at the moment, I don't have plans to jump back into that fandom anytime soon. <:/ I've have some uncomfortable experiences with the Octonauts fandom recently so I'm taking a bit of a break for now-

@bee-the-inevitable-death

I don't see a reason to go through the effort to maintain an account on another website. <:0 I have all my inside jokes, my follower celebrations and all my followers right here in one place! Its much nicer :}

Awe! Thank you so much!! :DDD I'm glad :}}}}

@pink088

Nah its fiiiiine dw! As long as I have the bandages on the blood will stay in my hands surly :}} but thank you for the tea! :D

(Referencing this post)

XDD Are we sure it wasn't [M]ango?

Daaannngg.... Homestuck is way bigger than I thought-

@snailshard

That looks beautiful!! :DD And thank you! :}}

#my response #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ocs #my ocs #factual fam #super mario bros #pokemon scarlet and violet #gengar #sylveon

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tenderlyrenjun · 1 year

Text

Married

(Jisung ver.)

minors + inactive/empty blogs do not interact; fic rec blogs do not reblog without comments

a/n: repost, sorry; if people still hate it, I’ll take it down but please stop telling me that my fics suck; please be nice, i'm having a rough time in life and I wrote this in like 2-3/ish days … I’ve just been thinking about Jisung a lot; I think he’s neat

word count: > 12k (sorry)

married (og, jeno ver)

edit: oppa kink removed.

includes … afab reader, tw jewellery, tw food (not in a sexual way) established relationship, unusually clingy jisung, non-marriage proposals, reciprocal ‘ooooh you want me so bad’ dynamic, better than gold TDS2 in BKK body rolls mention, implied (and wrong) experienced virgins, lots of making out, hair pulling, oral sex (m + f receiving), lowkey exhibitionism, sex in a supply closet, first times, ass grabbing, vague choking, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, thigh job (m + f receiving), fingering, lowkey size kink/difference, creampie consent – homophobes dni; mark + doyoung are gay

again, minors + inactive/empty blogs do not interact

“Hey, my dad said Doyoung asked you to be the ring bearer.”

Jisung tears his attention from the engineering student portal as you kick your way through the blankets, teetering candy boxes over a bowl of popcorn, path dimly lit by the TV and Renjun’s candles. He offered, about twenty minutes ago, before you stockpiled half his snacks on the couch with him, to gather the food, but you assigned him to pull out the cushions into a kind of bed setting. It only took a couple seconds, as it always does for him, which is why, since the last movie night, he’s had an inkling suspicion that you keep having him unfold the couch. That, or you want to keep him out of the kitchen, on account of all the times he dropped and sprayed soda all over the floor. He makes up for it!, he hopes, like earlier when he got all the snacks from the convenience store downstairs – at 10 PM, if he might add. Granted, his long legs make the trip shorter than if you went, with or without him. Actually, once, or twice, or a few times really, whenever you go with him on those allegedly short walks across the road, it extends an hour, two hours, past midnight, not that he minds. Jisung never minds; he uses it as an excuse to take a break from the studying he scarcely does – on the surface, of course. His more romantic side holds your hand and tells you that he just likes spending this time with you because you study too much at the lounge in Square Garden.

“Yeah,” Jisung answers, “Doyoung asked his morning.” He takes the candies from you first, then the popcorn, helping you settle comfortably below the thin throw blanket next to him. A soda can slides down with the new incline and he catches it with his foot, placing the bowl between your thigh and his, beside the other snacks. “Apparently, his fiancé didn’t confirm anything, and they were a party member short,” he shrugs. “Are you still the flower girl?”

You nod, “mmhmm,” then crack open the soda he caught; you put two straws inside, pulling the blue one (his) a little bit taller. “Jeno thought I was going to be a grooms-woman though and asked if we were walking down the aisle together.”

Jisung scrunches his nose. That doesn’t even make sense. You all – him, Jeno, you, Renjun, Jeno’s girlfriend, etc. – are attending the wedding from Doyoung’s side of the family, at an unequal ration (he and his fiancé have three grooms-people each; you wouldn’t be able to walk with Jeno). But he makes no corrective comment, instead slowly unwrinkling his mouth. “I don’t think his girlfriend would like that.” Because he wouldn’t like it very much, no matter how many times he tells you that he’s not a jealous guy.

Jisung quickly takes a small sip of Cola while you still have it in your hands, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Why? You don’t trust me?”

He slurps a little too hard, choking on the sudden rush of soda down his throat, and pulls off. “No, that’s not – of course, I do –“ Then, you start laughing, and he pushes your chest, another smile widening into his cheeks. “Ah, you’re so …”

“So what?” you bounce back, knocking your shoulder into him. “So lovely? So pretty? So Park Jisung’s girlfriend?”

Jisung catches you with both hands, an arm wrapping around your shoulders, his fingers grazing your cheek. He pulls a serious frown that doesn’t quite meet the curve in his eyebrow. “Mmhm, yeah,” he answers the last one, leaning in tighter. “You’re so Park Jisung’s girlfriend.” His lips almost touch yours, thumb tilting your face upward, breath a poor, poor substitute for your tongue. “Don’t forget it.”

You wrap your hand under his wrist, pushing his arm up a bit further. He casts his eyes toward yours for a second but sees you staring at his parted lips. Your tongue peaks its tip, briefly catching his most prominent tubercle. “Never.”

You make the first move, for him, thankfully, because he debated, too long, how to proceed with you still carrying the soda in your lap. His broad shoulders envelop you when you fist his hoodie, dragging him and the collar down, zipper chafing his bare sternum. Jisung braces a hand on the couch, somewhere near your hip that his index finger feels, steadying the both of you upright. It only lasts a second, before you both fall into the pillows, and the cushions barely support you two, so you cling to each other. He readjusts your hips under him, your knee bending to avoid the popcorn bowl, which probably already spilled. Your hand slips into the split ends of his hair and pulls, drawing out all his breath, making his hand slip under your ass.

Then you pull harder, and his breath becomes audible, becomes a moan.

You – and he – learned this evil little fact somewhere around the seventh month mark – his hair pulling kink. Jisung met you after a particularly long evening class, holding a thin bouquet of pink tulips and couple bracelets in his trench coat. He kissed the top of your head, an arm wrapped around your shoulders, hiding you and your backpack in his large jacket, on the way to his car. You made it to the restaurant about 10 minutes early, but the table ran late, so the both of you sat in the backseat, pointing out the moon in mirror’s reflection, talking and talking until you were no longer talking, kind of like now. And you pulled the ends of his hair, nails grazing into his scalp, to get him on top. You ended up being late to you reservation.

“J-Jisung,” you whisper, cut off by the harder he presses his lips.

He shifts around the couch, aligning you perpendicular to the snacks, better lit by the candlelight, straight against the original layout, your head on the arm rest now – all without breaking the kiss. And his hands get more frantic, taking away the soda, mauling your hips, flipping his fingers repeatedly over your waistband.

“Is this too far?” Jisung asks when his thumbs sink above your underwear. He can feel the tiny organza flowers bulging into his finger pads. You both have gone through most of the bases, with each other – been making out, hot and heavy, since your fourth date; groping each other over and under your clothes since the second month; touching each other a little more south since that seventh month mark. He has seen you naked, too! Well, mostly naked; sometimes you wear his hoodie or only your underwear, which leaves little to the imagination, but still, he hovers and asks.

Your eyes blink slowly, opening just a crack but so obvious in the dark. He waits for you to look at him, following you up his neck to his face. You bite your lip a tiny bit, right in the middle, almost imperceptible until you let go, and he pecks you once, pulling away just as quickly even though your lips trail after him.

“No,” you mumble, also fast, jutting out your chin to kiss him again, sliding your arms around his neck, hands down between his shoulder blades. “Jisung, please, keep going. I want – I want to –“ You suck in a breath and center yourself (and him). “I want you.”

Jisung grunts your name, popping his chest like a dance move before he locks himself onto you, rolling your torso with him. He presses your hips down, deeper into the couch. Your shins stand up, outlining him, giving his dick a small crevice between your pants against which to rub. Instinctively, he bites his lip – and yours, and you yelp, prompting him to apologize, but you yank him even closer, nails clawing into his cheeks. You slip your plump tongue into his mouth, drawing his out, and your lips feel even softer on his tongue as you kiss around it, kind of like that time you gave him head, back when you still lived in the dorms on campus. He barely fit those days, and each thrust would drag your lips back into your mouth with him; he basically trained you, since then, to take his entire length in one stroke. Same with his long fingers beneath your panties, which now unbutton your trousers. He crosses your leg one on top of the other, pausing, on his knees, to grind against your ass. And you both roll your eyes shut, incoherent mumblings spilling down both your tongues without the other to mash them away. Jisung dives down again, both hands shimmying off your pants while he kisses you, equally fervent.

But once he gets them down your ankles, your feet prepared to kick them off, the lights turn on.

“Oh!” Renjun groans from the entrance, a brown grocery bag covering his eyes as he makes his way into the kitchen behind the couch. “Could you not do that on the communal furniture? Please?”

Maybe Jisung takes Renjun’s words a little too closely to heart, or maybe he wants to save money by booking a multiroom suite with his friends, or maybe he really wants to make love to his beautiful girlfriend who he has known for years now, because he agrees with his friends on the shared unit, like his apartment with Renjun, for Doyoung’s weekend wedding in mid-Seoul near the Han River. Jaemin convinced everyone that they would need a place to rest and get dressed without having to make the hour/hour and a half drive back to their apartments in upper Seoul. The hotel also gives Jisung the excuse to sleep next to you (just sleep, Renjun glared, traumatized after your date night), which he absolutely loves, in a different way, laying on your chest, matching your breath, siphoning off some of warmth to you.

It was the first thing you both did when you got to your rooms – sleep.

Jisung dropped your duffel bag and his – both couple items – in an open armoire while you settled his smaller backpack on the vanity. Neither of you opened any bags, wordlessly and simultaneously collapsing on the singular king-sized bed. You sprawled out for a couple seconds, then searched for each other’s hands in the sheets. He turned to you first, after you intertwined your fingers, and kissed your knuckles, one at a time, doubling back on your ring finger. It made you giggle, which made him giggle.

“Ah, I like being here with you,” he confessed, flopping against the mattress again, brushing away his bangs from his forehead, a dumb, gummy smile spreading up his face.

He never told you this, but a few months into dating, when you accidentally stayed the night at his apartment for the first time, falling asleep on his full-sized bed while he finished a last-minute assignment, Jisung had this epiphany where he realized that he likes this, likes sharing a bed with you (he almost asked you to move in, but that would have been way too soon, especially for a couple of kids). Then, after he fixed your hair, tied it into a ponytail sometime before sunrise for a hiking date along the Yeongbong Peak Trail, he realized that he likes the intimacy of being with you, his girlfriend. And he finds himself, this weekend, on the second evening staying at the hotel, looking for all those moments of intimacy.

Like now, he sits on the end-of-the-bed bench, watching you fix your eye makeup in the mirror according to Doyoung’s navy and gold rehearsal dinner, matching a shimmering highlight with the trim in the slit of your maxi dress. You wore this same dress – and him the same matching suit – to some European restaurant with him a couple months ago. No special occasion that time; you just met him at a restaurant for date night after not seeing him all two weeks of midterm season. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, people said when he was younger and naïve and didn’t quite understand them enough to believe, but he got it instantly, in that moment, and essentially made a vow never to be that far from you again – probably why he seeks and prolongs these moments of intimacy, and why he likes your dress so much, among a few other reasons.

“Are you finished?” you call, a little garbled as your mouth hangs while you apply mascara.

“Almost.” Jisung looks down at the loose tie around his neck. “Just need to fix one last thing.” He looks back toward you, and you look beautiful and mostly finished, not that he knows, entirely, what look you will be completing. He just thinks you are always pretty. “Are you almost done?”

“Not really.” You pull away from the bathroom mirror, blinking a few times, then turn to him. “How does this look – Oh, are you not wearing the couple watch tonight?”

“No, I am.” Jisung points to his silver watch on the table at the other side of the room with his black blazer. “Are you wearing yours?”

You nod. “Yeah, I just need to add some lipstick and jewellery, and I’ll be done.”

Jisung stands up and crosses the room to get behind you. He lifts your hair in an impromptu ponytail, making sure to grab lowly as not to ruin what you have done so far. “I'll help you,” he half-requests, gently, already pulling your long necklace into place and clasping it at the perfect length. He spins you around to add the bracelets and watch, but you have yet to finish applying makeup, so he holds your hands and kisses you slowly, like the scene of a movie (or an artsy porno).

You put a hand on his arm, jerking him forward, leaning on the door frame. He tilts his head a little bit left, nose brushing into your cheek, and you copy him enough for him to feel your breath on his face. Ever since the first time he kissed you longer than a simple peck, Jisung has been obsessed with all the ways he can elongate a simple kiss. One way you do, and this doubles as giving him consent, is by wrapping your arms around his neck, which you do now, hiking your leg, through your slit, around his waist high up, practically sitting on the sink counter. It gives him a better angle, more comfortable, against the height difference, to bend his neck. Jisung hikes your other leg around his waist, sandwiching you between him and the wall, thigh supported by the sink, an ass cheek supported by his large hand, his pelvis pressing too tightly into yours. He brushes your hair to the side and presses a trail of quick kisses down your jaw that have your breath elevated, turning into whispered moans of his name that he has to kiss quiet.

You hold his chin still, about to return the trail of kisses, when three knocks hit the bedroom door.

“Are you guys do – Oh, come on,” Jeno groans, throwing his hands in toward the exit, swinging his entire body away from the bathroom (a private bathroom, Jisung mentally adds). “Wrap it up, people. Jaemin is one perfume spray from being ready, and we’re already five minutes late for the rehearsal dinner.”

Jeno leaves as quickly as he entered, but Jisung still scrunches his nose, making a small annoyed face at the door. You tap his arm quickly a few times, and he steps back, helping you hop down the counter.

“So … do you still need help?”

You deadpan at him. “Out.”

“Is it always that bad or am I just noticing it now?” you call from the bathroom again.

Jisung laughs and pauses the TikTok on his phone. “What? You don’t want to marry me?”

You point a half-used wet wipe at him, brown eyeliner smudged past the corner of your eyebrow. “You proposed to me twice!”

Jisung rolls his eyes and onto his stomach over the bed. “One of those doesn’t even count!” During your two-year anniversary picnic at the Han River, a few months ago, he proposed the idea of proposing when he saw a kid with a red candy Ring Pop. You didn’t turn him down, citing that you both already had platinum couple rings, and he proposed on the spot with his, even getting halfway down on a knee before you toppled him into the grass. Okay, maybe that one counts; Jisung rubs the back of his neck. “But all the aunties thought we were cute!” During the rehearsal dinner, they kept bringing up a follow-up wedding with all the couples – you and Jisung, Jeno and his girlfriend, Mark and his boyfriend. All of you treaded around the conversation, as if none of you have had The Talk with your partners yet, even though Jisung knows that Mark has a ring ready and Jeno has a date planned (and he has a proposal in mind).

You turn off the bathroom lights and quickly jump into the bed, hiding your bare legs under the blanket without him, fluffing his extra-large hoodie over your head.

Jisung frowns and scoots into bed with you. “Did it really bother you that much?” He knows that he jokes about marriage from time to time, probably brings it up one too many times, but he is serious about it. If you said yes, he would marry you in an instant. You would wait anyways, for a big ceremony, until the both of you finish your degrees and have jobs, him delayed a few semesters due to military service before school, but he would marry you in an instant. “I can talk to the aunties tomorrow, so they don’t bring it up again.”

“No, Sung,” you backpedal. “It’s just that I never noticed it before. Of course, I want to marry you. We’ve just never really talked about the details before. We don’t even live together.”

Jisung settles into the pillows, dragging you down with him, into his arms. “We could,” he whispers. And you look up at him, eyes wide, a hand over his on your stomach. “Move in, and talk about all the details. We could move in together, you know. Maybe not on Monday or anything, but, like, next semester or next year, or something like that. We could wait until after college, too, if –“

“Jisung?”

“… Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Jisung sighs, in relief this time, melting a little bit deeper into the mattress, free hand taking his forehead temperature. “I love you, too.” He rolls on his side and buries his face in your neck, curling his long leg over your bare thighs. You comb his hair behind his ear a few times before he starts kissing your neck, sneaking into the hoodie with you – there’s enough room for two people if he squeezes.

“Jisung,” you sigh quietly. He looks up, catching you close your eyes, mouth parting enough for your tongue to peek out a bit, flat with the way you bite it. And he kisses your neck again, a quick, wet one, licking his lips so closely that his tongue catches your skin. Sometimes he doesn’t have exactly the right words, so he rambles through the entire dictionary until he finds the right one. He also really likes kissing you. “Jisung,” you sigh again, a little bit louder, more enunciated over the wet smacks that he tries to make chaste, given the brief conversation about marriage. “Mmm, Jisung.”

But like he said, he would marry you in an instant.

Jisung kisses your neck a little longer, a little harder, slipping around the column to find a perfect vein that makes you whimper his name exactly the same again. And pliantly, your head lulls into his palm, kissing his life lines almost deliberately. Jisung turns you back to him with the same palm, pyjama pants rolling your legs open, wide enough for him to slip between. He grinds down, the first kiss to your lips, fingers coiling in the hair behind your head, freehand pulling a thigh up his back. You seem to get the hint, tying your feet on his spine, pushing your heels down to trap him.

“If we – if we move in together,” you breathe, eyes closed, lips pursed, “I don’t think we’ll get very much sleep – Jisung – ah!”

Jisung coasts his throbbing boner through your lips, milling his pants against your underwear. His waistband starts folding over itself, exposing his Adonis belt further and further and further, until his ass is half out, almost matching the way your underwear tangles between your cheeks. He brings you up closer, pulling your head off the pillows, fully kneeling, making indents in the sheets.

“I want it,” he tells you, hauling you into his lap, making you straddle him backwards, “I want to move in together, to sleep together, to sleep together.” He squeezes you against the headboard, quietly banging it against the wall just once, then louder a second time as you meet him, equally, trying to fuse your bodies together. His hands start roaming, and your hands start roaming, only settling on the best place to knead each other – his broad shoulders and your ass. “I’m not just saying it, I promise.” You stare at him a few milliseconds, searching his eyes, then kiss him even rougher, making him lose balance, and he accidentally kicks the headboard harder.

“We’ll talk about it later,” you tell him, mouths misaligned, kissing around his cupid’s bow specifically. And Jisung sucks in a huge breath, holding it right there in his chest, gravitating the entire Earth’s rotation around his, well, his penis, the lifeline, right now, to his brain and heart. Then you whisper, “I want it, too. All of it,” and he exhales and flips you on your back, making you yelp and giggle, which makes him giggle.

“Right now, I want you.”

Jisung leans down again, half a centimeter from your lips … when a loud bang comes from the adjourning wall, accompanied by your names. He looks up at it, mouth still puckered, hoping that the sound came from you two. Sensing nothing, he kisses you again, and a moan escapes him, and the banging comes back.

"Jisung," Jaemin shouts. “I can’t tell if you’re just watching porn too loud or you’re trying to have sex in a hotel room that you share with your best friends, but it’s 3 AM, and we have to be up at 7 for the wedding, so, for the love of God, please go to sleep.”

You laugh out loud, and Jisung covers your mouth with one hand. Then, as expected, Jaemin hits the wall again.

“Hello?? What did I just tell Jisung?”

“Yo!” Mark wanders into your room, eyes covered his long blond hair and a single hand. The other blindly feels around the air, as not to bump into anything, but he still hits the end-of-the-bed bench where yours and Jisung’s clothes are neatly packed in black suit protector bags. “Are you decent?” he asks, stopping in place, “The guys sent me to see if you’re ready yet.” He spins his wrist in the air. “Something about not wanting to deal with –“ Mark takes a chance and peaks through his fingers … only to find you and Jisung sharing wired earbuds, laughing at a stupid, silly, little TikTok. He breathes a quick sigh, petting down his chest, then deadpans and grabs a pillow, throwing it at you two. “Hey!” He snaps his fingers. You both finally look up. “Time to go, losers. My boyfriend’s already pulled the car around; Jeno left 30 minutes ago; and the makeup artists started on the Doyoung's fiance’s groomsmen.”

You and Jisung make no move to get up.

“Hello? Now, please,” Mark practically orders.

“Um,” Jisung squeaks. He scrunches his nose, pressing his tongue on his bottom lip, in lieu of biting. It’s still a bit swollen from last night, when you both kept kissing each other through messy hand jobs, wanting the first time that you actually have real, penetrative sex to be more freeing. But still, he did have sex last night, and the reminders show, under the blanket, where you don’t wear pants. “Can you give us, like, two minutes to get dressed?” He gestures to the heap of blankets.

Mark throws his head back. “You’re not even dressed? Of course, you’re not.” He groans. “Okay, you have five minutes to be downstairs, or you’re driving yourselves.”

The moment Mark walks out the door, Jisung asks, “Should we just Uber there?”

You smack him with a pillow. “The makeup artist has to get both of us ready. We’re in the wedding party.” Jisung flails over that pillow, making you drop it, and you roll your eyes, getting up like Mark requested.

“Ugh.” He hugs the pillow tightly, covering the dick imprint in his boxers. “The wedding doesn’t even start until 3. We could have time to just …” Jisung watches you take off your sticky black panties and pull on even smaller ones, words trailing off, because now his 7 AM boner remembers how he kissed you until 5 AM; how your hands squeezed above his balls, while he slid his entire length in the crevice of your thigh; how he fingered you with three long digits, thumb pinching down on your clit. Then you catch him staring a little south of the hoodie you stole from the last time he did laundry (Thursday, when you slept over), and he finishes his sentence. “To – to just re-relax.”

You roll your eyes again and put on the Adidas sweatpants that Jisung bought you a few months ago. “Let’s go, Jisung.” And he rolls his eyes, sticking his tongue out his jaw.

"Fine, but you owe me a kiss."

Jisung accepts, or, really, takes his kiss, outside the hotel. He stops you a couple steps down the short perron, dress storage bag, hitting his thigh from how fast he moves. And - while Mark leans against his boyfriend's car, calling Renjun and Jaemin down, who are also late - Jisung gives himself the time, the moment, to pucker his lips.

But it turns into a longer kiss, backing up Renjun and Jaemin, who were not as late as he thought.

“Two and a half years, and you still suck face? Are you two even dating or just making out all the time?” Renjun shakes his head sarcastically. And Jisung pushes him into Jaemin, who catches him easily.

“Ay-yo??” Mark calls from the street, hand over his eyes like a visor. “We’re late, let’s goooo.”

In the car, Mark and his boyfriend take the driver and passenger seats, obviously, and Jaemin and Jeno’s girlfriend sit in the pop-up row in the trunk, leaving you, Renjun, and Jisung – the smallest and tallest of the group – in the middle, much to Renjun’s protest. Though, he only jokes about this stuff; he actually thinks that the both of you are “so cute” if his cuteness aggression is anything to go off. Sometimes he throttles you two, and Jisung is scared that he might get bitten (by someone who isn’t you).

The drive to the venue (re: other hotel) is only 15 minutes, so everyone tries to stay silent, on their phones, still waking up, not even properly dressed, but Jisung, of course, breaks it, laughing and mouthing stop through his gummy smile after you respond to his TikTok.

[Boyfriend ♡, 7:13 A.M.]

hey, look at this

[Boyfriend ♡, 7:13 A.M.]

https://tiktok...com

[Girlfriend ♡♡, 7:14 A.M.]

Are you trying to tell me something?

[Girlfriend ♡♡, 7:15 A.M.]

Andy Park? 🤨

“Ah, stop,” Jisung blushes. He rubs up your thigh and buries his face in your neck, lips curling into your skin prominently enough to act like another kiss. You sneak your hand around his head, combing out his bed hair.

“What?” you whisper in his ear, brushing away the longer strands. “Not going to propose a third time?”

Jisung covers your mouth and presses a quick kiss to your neck. “Someone’s going to hear you.” If it were any other situation, he would take you on the suggestion, half-jokingly proposing with whatever couple ring he happened to be wearing at the time. Mostly, he wants it to be an intimate proposal, just the two of you, eyes on each other; the after party, when you tell everyone, can be the bigger affair, but Jisung wants to see the ring slide down your finger and hear your answer clearly with his own ears. He peeks an eye and finds you already staring at him, cooing. “Why? Do you want me to propose again?”

Dramatically, you take off your ring and plop it in his palm. He laughs, audibly, breaking the silence again, but slips it down your finger regardless.

“Ehhh,” you grimace at it, playfully, twirling your hand in the sunlight, “Same ring.”

Jisung grabs you by the neck and kisses you quiet this time, only pulling away to peck your lips repeatedly. His thumb brushes into your cheek, fingers drawing you in, tilting your head at the perfect angle to slip his tongue down your throat. Your head falls pliantly, supported by his wrist that you hold, following every twist and turn he makes to kiss you harder.

“Okay! Here! Everyone out of my car!” Mark’s boyfriend shouts, loudly shifting the car into neutral a few steps from the Grand Hyatt Seoul. He looks pointedly at you and Jisung breathing heavily through the rearview mirror. “Especially you two.”

[Girlfriend ♡♡, 12:14 P.M.]

Meet me in the lobby

[Girlfriend ♡♡, 12:14 P.M.]

I have a surprise for you ^^

Jisung waits on a cushion bench, fully dressed in his navy tuxedo, silver accessories hidden under his sleeves and high collar to accommodate Doyoung's wedding theme. He scrolls back through your car ride conversation, since he has the time, smiling to himself, curling into himself, covering his mouth as he kicks his feet forward like a middle schooler with a crush.

You are continuously cute in his eyes, and, as he relives this reminder of just how cute you are, Jisung doesn't know how he got so lucky. Sure, yeah, you two make out ... a lot, as Renjun pointed out, but he also finds you incredibly compatible. You send him pictures of the moon at night and the sun in the morning; you go out with him at 1 in the morning to the good fish-shaped bread cart (the one by Jamsil stadium after all the concerts neither of you attended); you cheer his name after all the physics exams on which he tries his best.

Really, Jisung could go on forever and ever, gushing about pretty much every aspect of your relationship. He loves you so much. And he used to, back when you first started dating, and he still does during your anniversaries (100 days, 6 months, 1 year, etc.). All his friends complain, especially the bitchless ones (Renjun, Haechan, and Jaemin), but he wants you in his life for as long as you'll have him.

“Were you going to text me?”

Jisung jumps in his seat, automatically locking his phone. He relaxes though, the next second, when he sees you, and scoots over enough for you to sit with him.

But you keep standing.

And he raises an eyebrow.

“What are you –“

You kick your foot up, through the slit of your dress. Jisung thinks you wear these dresses often, which he likes, never mind that Doyoung picked this dress out - a fact he tries to ignore, even though he's pretty sure that he confided this secret to his friends and Renjun probably let it slip after a few drinks.

You catch your ankle, showing off the white bottoms under your heels, below the pretty, silver watch that you will have to take off before the ceremony. Jisung, on instinct, hold you steady first, seeing signs of imbalance in your face. He waits until you lean on him more before looking at your foot.

"Why are - Andy?" he reads, vertically down your foot. It takes him a second to react, chest pounding fast, first, mind going blank, eyes flying to search your smiling face. Then, he returns it - your smile. "Ah, you're so cute."

Jisung pulls you into his lap, like a princess on his knee, and kisses you fast. He might have you repeat this when you actually get married, already filing a mental note to save the TikTok for inspiration. For now, though, he can just pretend - pretend that you did this for your wedding, pretend that you will talk down the aisle for him today (well, you go first, so he will meet you at the first row in front of the alter today), pretend that your white-ish dress is for him, pretend that your current rings carry even more permanent meaning than they already do.

You laugh between the repeated pecks, trying to pull away, but he has you vice gripped close by his chest. “You’re so clingy this weekend, Park Jisung.” And he draws back first, briefly looking at you before burying his face in your neck, arms dropping down your waist. “Someone might think you actually like skinship.” You laugh again and comb his hair.

Jisung squeezes your waist, just once, breathlessly laughing with you. He knows – he knows that he isn’t really known for skinship, having waited days, in the beginning, to hold your hand, not even kissing you until your fourth date; and he knows that he has been obsessed with you these last few days, so he kisses your neck again and confesses, “I just … I just …” He sucks in a breath. “Ah, I just want you,” he finishes lamely. “Can we stay a little bit longer? Here, at the venue, without … everyone else?”

You pinch his cheeks upward, puckering his lips at which you coo. “Did you want to get married today, too?” you giggle. And he almost hides behind your hair, if it weren’t neatly tied up, braided forward to your temples, but also, you hold him as steady as he hugs your waist. He wouldn’t mind, you know, getting married today, after Doyoung; the only people missing, right now, are his siblings (and a few other people); he might want to buy you a new ring really quick though. “Hmm? What’s up, babe?”

“Everyone will be gone,” he says simply, and you relax your fingers curiously onto his shoulders, fumbling the lapels. “From the hotel, they’ll be gone. Most of them are leaving during the dinner, and Mark’s already packed up his boyfriend’s car with their bags. We’ll have an entire suite to ourselves; we won’t have to check out until tomorrow morning.” Jisung swallows and licks his lips, giving himself a beat of reprieve before his tongue goes numb, making it impossible to voice the reason for his request. You stare at him, wide eyed and nodding, urging him to go on, even though it looks like you already know what he wants to ask, even though he feels too scared to ask. “We could, um, we could – oh, God.” He likes to think that, since you’ve been dating for almost three years, he has gotten past most of the nervous, honeymoon stuttering, but he (loves you so much) takes a deep breath and starts again, rushing through, “Wecouldhavesex.”

And you giggle.

He wishes you wouldn’t. It sets a bad precedent for the activity he wants to do; albeit, you didn’t laugh those other first times – when he kissed you, when you sucked him off, when he fingered you. So, really, Jisung has no reason to worry. He just needs to suggest it again, calmly.

“We could use the hotel room, later,” he alludes, monitoring your reaction closely, involuntarily stiffening his fingers through your silky, pale gold dress. You give him more encouraging tiny nods, leaning in with each micro-adjustment, and he copies you, nodding to himself, giving himself the same support. “To have sex,” he whispers, then repeats, louder, “Make love. Do you … want to …?”

You exhale shakily, and he hadn’t realized you were holding your breath. “Yeah,” you sigh. “Yes, definitely.” You grab his face, and he wants to propose again, possibly for real, to see you react like this again, possibly more enthusiastic. “Jisung, I love you,” you say obviously, honestly, “Of course I want to have sex with you,” you whisper the last bit, like him, and he kisses your shoulder, suppressing his gummy smile briefly.

“Give me your ring.”

“Whoa?” You blink. “Just because I said yes? Park Jisung, I never thought of you as a player.” You giggle again and hand over the mismatched ring regardless, probably already knowing the question he has written across his face.

He almost apologizes, for not having a new present, a new ring, something new to give you for another relationship marker, but he changes his mouth to say your name and holds out the jewllery between his thumb and index finger, which are shaped like a heart, nail pushing the center design at you. “Will you,” he pauses, dramatically, muffling a sheepish laugh. “Will you,” he restarts, “make love to me tonight, in the hotel room – our hotel room, after the wedding?”

You roll your eyes and push his shoulder, but he stays still, keeping himself upright to drag an answer out of you. And you answer again, definitively, “Yes, Park Jisung, I will make love to you tonight in our hotel room.”

Except, after the wedding, past the foyer at the reception hall, you almost fuck your boyfriend in a supply closet. He’d only been dancing in the makeshift mosh pit with his friends, jacket fallen down his shoulders, mostly sheer white shirt exposing his toned humerus. They kept cheering him on through the popping and locking and body rolls as he wore a pair of cheesy, blue party glasses that Doyoung placed on all the tables with dessert. Then, the DJ – Doyoung’s friend Johnny from high school – slowed the melody, pulling all the couples onto the dance floor.

All the couples except you because you stole Jisung’s hand and dragged him out one of the smaller doors behind the furthest unoccupied tables. He tripped over a few chairs on the way, praying that no one heard him, trying to catch up the half-step you have on him, wondering what dastard plans you have on your mind.

“What are you –“

“It’s such a crime,” you tell him, shoving him against a poorly lit shelf, inhaling his lips, running your fingers along his torso, finding the best place to hold him. The door slams loudly, which is oddly comforting, to give you both some privacy. And he drops his hands from surrender onto your shoulders, relaxing you enough to continue talking through the kisses. “You look so good, too good, Park Jisung, and you dance so well. God,” you moan into his mouth, ridiculously close that he can feel your boobs squish on his chest. “I know, we’re waiting for tonight and tomorrow, and – and –“ You pull back swallowing, realigning your breath. Jisung licks his lips. He’s been the one to kiss you all weekend, to initiate it all weekend, so he gets hard, instantly, when you return the same energy, finding him as hot as he finds you. “We’re waiting,” you reiterate, and he presses his forehead against yours, “but – but can you do that dance move again – that body roll again,” you glance at him through your lashes, “on me?”

“Here?”

You nod, biting your lip. “If you don’t – we don’t have to; we can go back. I just – Jisung, ah, fuck.”

You rarely swear, never finding a reason unless you’re frustrated or really turned on, and Jisung always wants to hear it, claiming that you sound really sexy when you say things you’re not supposed to, especially, like in this case, when you are doing things you’re not supposed to. So rather than responding, he complies, pulling his face down, legs pliéd to accommodate your height, then rolls once, thigh grazing through the slit in your dress, dragging it up and behind your waist.

Jisung groans, deeply, pausing to settle his nerves. He repeats, even closer, grinding across your chest, twisting your dress around the buttons of his shirt. And you fall into him, a hand braced on the shelf behind his elbow. Jisung bites his lip. Something juxtaposes deeply in this moment, but he cannot place his finger quite on it. He feels like a middle schooler again, waiting to kiss the prettiest person at the party; he also feels like a teenager with raging hormones, back to 19 right before his military service, jacking off in his room with lotion and a box of tissues; but he also feels like an adult (or the most adult a person in their 20s can feel) in an adult relationship doing adult things. So he does it again – the body roll, breathing into your mouth, chasing your lips down for another kiss.

“I don’t want to make love to you in here,” he whispers, despite rolling his fully hard dick in the crevice between your thigh and vulva. Jisung fists your dress at your waist, bunching it higher. Your panties expose, thin and transparent. His resolve nearly falters, almost completely fucking you in this supply closet with his family and closest friends a few meters away. He kisses you again and again, burying his words with his tongue down your throat, exhaling shakily. Then, he shakes his head, slowly pulling away, holding your face in place, hand around the front of your neck. Jisung opens his eyes and finds you already looking at him, your fingers wrapping around his wrist one by one. “I want you –“ He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, that fell out of a tight braid. “– so bad, you have no idea.” He grinds his dick up your leg as proof. “But not here, not like this.”

“I know. I don’t want it like this either,” you tell him, smoothening the wrinkles in his shirt, staring down his chest. “I just … You looked so hot out there, and, God, Ji, I want you so, so bad, too.”

Jisung brings his hands down, fumbling this thumbs back and forth across your hips, your dress bunched up as you practically sit on his lap while he barely sits on a half-empty shelf. You snake your hands behind his neck, fidgeting with the tag in his coat. He tries to fight the smirk that appears in the corner of his mouth, sweeping his long hair in front of his eyes, but you catch him and bury your face in his neck this time.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you whine, voice going up an octave at the last syllable. You tease him more than he teases you, verbally at least (he likes to think that he does more than you in bed), so he’s not entirely accustomed to his whiny girlfriend, and he kinda likes it.

“Never,” he tells you, sarcastically, chuckling a hair away from your lips before he kisses you again. “I like that you think I’m sexy.” He smirks, inhaling a deep embrace, literally taking your breath away with a slow and gentle kiss. You moan into his mouth, mumbling his name between colorful expletives. It lets him slip his tongue inside, confidently, crushing his lips harder and harder, needing you to come equally closer, to ease the pressure on his dick. He knows – he knows what he just said, but, “We don’t have to … have sex in here,” he tells you, whispering like it’s a bad word. “There are other things we can do.” He groans, throatily, chest rising faster.

You’ve done worse, honestly, in worse places than dry humping in a supply closet at a family friend’s wedding. He can think of several blow jobs in the library’s reference section (which has no cameras, by the way); or that time he held a vibrator on you the entire Starbucks drive-thru, resulting in him plastering his failed differential midterm over the windows as a cover up while he ate you out in the back seat. Actually, just last Tuesday too, at the gym, after he locked the door to a communal weight lifting room, you bounced on his long, agile fingers. Granted, it was 4 AM, so the place was already empty, save for a couple employees, thus easing his anxiety. And you could do it again, right now. You don’t have to take his dick inside your cunt, but you could give each other sloppy hand jobs, using spit as lube (or not; he's probably leaking so much pre-cum). The thought makes his knees buckle, making the both of you stumble.

“Sor –”

You cut him off with another kiss, your fingers flying to his pants, undoing his fly quickly. He grunts, involuntarily thrusting up. His dick was already pointing tip-up, the entire length, even flaccid, unable to sit snugly otherwise in his pants. You curl your nails in his waistband, scratching under his boxers. He nods his head, mouth parted, gasping, giving you all the green lights to touch him more, which you do, sliding one hand down his pants and the other onto his cheek, allowing you to deepen the kiss. Jisung grunts, again, plump lips biting your tongue, and he copies you, one hand behind your neck, under your head, anchoring himself to this moment (also, before he completely evaporates).

“Shh,” you whisper, mouthing across his jaw. “We have to be quiet.” But you make it hard for him (pun intended), holding your thumb on his throbbing slit, breaking his pre-cum into uneven globs down the sides. “Everyone keeps interrupting us, baby," you pout.

You take your hand off his dick and bring it to your mouths. He watches you, intently, lick your palm, pink tongue peeping just above the web in your hand, and he falls – not literally. Jisung bends in half, lowering himself to your boobs, silently thanking your heels, which have his name branded on the bottom. He kisses the highest part on your dress, halfway down your chest, then slides the straps down your pretty arms. You repeat his name, verbally – his proper name, after he takes a nipple in his mouth, tongue flat against it, massaging the entire areola. He sucks lightly, hollowing his cheeks, bobbing up and down, opposite hand enveloping under your unattended tit, but he’s too big, as is everything about it, and his palm rests on your ribs. His thumb and index finger pinch repeatedly, automatically, increasing hardness each time a digit swipes over your nipple. You have to bite your hand to stop from moaning too loud.

“Jwiseong,” you stammer, accented by the muffle.

You edge a little closer to him, pushing the shelf into his lower back, and he yelps. But it comes out as groan, vibrations making you match him. Jisung stands up fully again, taking a wide step on the outside of your thighs. He grabs you by the face, kissing you in the way he has been all weekend, a hand behind your neck and another supporting you by the ass, this time dipping you toward the ground. His cock flops completely out the fly of his pants, balls still trapped behind the slit in his boxers. The heavy air hits the veins in his dick first before it rubs against your inner thighs, and you squeeze them around him, both of you groaning, your skimpy underwear adding friction for both of you. Jisung moans your name, accidentally biting your bottom lip. But you say nothing, instead wrapping your arms around his neck, doing your best to slide his cock between your thighs. And he grunts. He can feel his cock pulsing to release.

“Jisung,” you mumble more coherently, “Jisung, Jisung,” you half-chant between kisses, but every time you open your mouth, he slips his tongue in farther, twisting inside your mouth, licking behind your teeth, goading your tongue inside his mouth to suck on. Your panties twist at the crotch, like a substitute thong, and his long cock, ridges and all, rubs your clit to ass and back again. “Jisung,” you moan again. “Jisung, you can’t cum – you can’t – oh, my God, Jisung,” you whisper-shout, forcing him to kiss you harder. He can’t cum on your clothes.

“I know,” he mumbles, giving your tongue one last suck before he pulls back, sitting on the same half-empty shelf, you back on his lap/ish. He lightly fingers away the hairs curtaining the front of your face, tucking the thicker ones behind your ear. “I know,” he repeats. You’ve given him thigh jobs before, humping between his legs, which landed cum on your ass, and letting him hit doggy style, which landed cum on your stomach. So, here, in the random supply closet, it – his cum – would ruin both of your outfits, something you wouldn’t be able to explain on your goodbye rounds. And he cums so much (it was embarrassing the first time, then he found out how much you liked it). Jisung glances at his cock, shortly, jumping between it and your face. He steadies his breathing and takes off his jacket; he undoes more buttons down his pecs and rolls up his sleeves. “It’s so … hot in here,” he justifies.

You nod, pulling at your dress. And he sees it – the wrinkles in the skirt, the slit pushed toward your strapless bra, your panties even tinier.

“You can cum in my mouth,” you whisper thickly, “so – so you don’t stain your tux.”

“We could just go back to our hotel,” he offers instead, really feeling the need to cum elsewhere.

“You’re fine walking out with this –“ You slide your hand down his penis, fingers not entirely touching despite getting tighter at the base. “– poking everyone in the eye?”

“N-no, yeah, you’re right. Please let me cu-cum down your throat.”

You rearrange your dress comfortably folded beneath your knees, hit jacket adding extra padding. Jisung sucks in a breath, then even more when you swallow the entirely of his dick, or whatever you can, stuttering halfway down. It seems he got bigger, all his cum girthing at the tip, waiting to flood. You skip the foreplay, the teasing, immediately hollowing your cheeks around the bit you can get in your mouth without destroying your esophagus (again, you still have to say your goodbyes), but he still grips the shelf behind him, knuckles turning white. Jisung bites his lip, forcing himself to keep his eyes open, to watch his sexy, sexy girlfriend blow him, so that he cums fast. In almost any other scenario, it would be embarrassing how fast he cums, especially with how much volume he expels, but you make it so difficult not to overflow the crevices of your mouth. You press your tongue under his cock, sucking in your lip over your top row of teeth, feeding his cock down your throat, and massaging the half you can’t take. He feels a vein scrape the corner of your mouth and twitches forward, pushing more dick inside. Your eyes water a little bit, lashes blinking them away, so he takes over, slowly thrusting his cock to gauge how much teeth with graze it on the drawback. Once he finds the perfect length, he sets a faster pace, squeezing cute little dimples in his ass until he grunts erratically, incredibly close to cumming.

“Almost there,” he whimpers. He knows that he sounds frustrated, but it’s not at you, never at you. He just wants to make love to you in your hotel room right now. “So close,” he pleads, again not at you, more at himself.

You pull off his cock and open your mouth wide, as circular as possible, and he grabs his dick back, rubbing your spit and cum and his pre-cum up his length, pointing the tip inside your mouth. The first rope shoots down your throat perfectly, then the next rope lands on your tongue. It keeps sputtering out this way, like a spray bottle, until it doesn’t, and his cum clings to his cock, dribbling down his veins, prompting you to lick him clean.

And you make eye contact the entire time, which makes his cock twitch. After you finally finish cleaning him off, you stand up and show him all the collected cum in your mouth, holding your tongue still like a cup. Jisung grabs your neck, holding your pliant head as you swallow what you can, in two breathy gulps. He wipes a little excess bubble from the corner of your mouth to inside, then presses a kiss on your neck, squeezing your collarbone, tighter with his thumb.

“Mmm,” he grunts. “My turn.”

Jisung sinks to his knees, pushing your hips against the shelf. He slides your skirt to the side, making a bigger slit for him to get under, and raises your leg over his shoulder. Slowly, your fingers tread into his hair, pulling at the top. He falls forward, closer to your wet pussy, lips ghosting a breath on labia. Jisung tilts his head to the side and wraps his tongue around the crotch of your panties, a teasing excuse to pull them out, to give him better access, his wide tongue swiping your skin briefly.

“Jisung,” you whine, shaking your butt on the shelf. “Hurry.”

He laughs. “Shh, no one can know we’re in here.”

Jisung pushes his middle finger inside your cunt, gradually making the interphalangeal creases disappear, moaning when you do. Outside, he kisses your vulva, jaw coming up, raising his tongue to your clit. He flicks it with his entire tongue, desperately sucking the little knob between his lips. You tug his hair again, and he swears that his dick twitches – not a good sign, so he works faster, adding a second finger. He sucks again and again, releasing your labia with suctioned gasps, working his nimble digits knuckle-deep repeatedly. In, out, in, out, halfway in, out, all the way in, out, in again.

His knuckles hit your pussy harder and harder, confining him to the small space as your leg wraps around both of his shoulders rigidly, his hot breath sighing back in his face. Jisung hums again on your clit before sucking harsher, lips biting every time his mouth turns into the flat part of his tongue to the tip to nothing, then back again. When he feels your feathery walls squeeze his fingers, he adds a third, despite the taut stretch. He presses all three to the roof of your vagina and curls, flexes each one in different directions, tickling that spongy little spot if two happen to land on it simultaneously. Your legs stiffen and shake side-to-side, but he keeps going, goes faster, not slowing down.

Until you relax.

Your legs go numb, and you almost fall off the supply shelf, so he holds you up, still licking your vulva clean as you cum and cum and cum across his lips.

It takes you pulling his hair again to stop him. And Jisung stands up, breathing just as heavily. He hugs you closely, around your waist, and you bring your hands to his arm. Both of you stabilize your breaths to each other.

You move first, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “We should go say bye to everyone.”

Jisung nods, blindly, not fully coherent enough to process the suggestion. He is trying to lengthen his refractory period, make his partially hard cock go back down. You’re so sexy, too sexy right now, and he desperately needs a bed to make love to you.

“So we can get back to the hotel,” you clarify, voice light.

And suddenly, Jisung is halfway through tugging on his jacket and ordering an Uber.

It takes every nerve, every ounce of self-control for Jisung to make it through goodbye rounds.

The first thing you did, before the rounds, other than sanitize your hands or fix your outfits, was drink water and pop a breath mint from the dessert table, then he kissed you quick, mumbling some random excuse about a mouth check, which turned into a five minute make out session halfway out the door that Jaemin commented on, on his way out. Even one of the groom’s cousins mentioned how he – Jisung – is always touching you, always has a hand attached to you, despite not even really liking to share food.

Chenle, he thinks, was the sole person to explicitly say something, catching onto Jisung’s mismatched buttons and your new ponytail, frizzy curls hanging loose. Jisung prayed his hands together, begging his best friend not to say anything. So he didn’t. But Jisung knew that he would hear all about it on Monday, from everyone in his friend group.

Jisung could only get through two or three more conversations, suddenly feeling like a kid trying to leave the Chuseok dinner, before his cock (which never fully went down, by the way) started straining his pants again, the idea of getting you in his bed as the single motivator to leave as soon as possible. He ended up pushing you, by the waist, in front of his crotch to protect his decency, no longer carrying his jacket because you wear it, because Chenle pointed out some discoloration, another bump low on your neck. You spoke for him, lying to all the aunties that he drank too much or danced too hard. They believed you, especially after he giggled into your shoulder, snapping his body in half to lean on you. It hurt his ego that they believed you so easily, but he’ll deal with all those feelings later. Everything else drowns into white noise, going in on ear and out the other, almost forcibly removed by the horny hormones his hypothalamus orders.

Also, he really wanted to avoid clean up duty. His hands need to be clean for post-nuptial activities, you know.

You have to know by the time he gets you in the elevator to your hotel room, your shared hotel room. He backs you into a corner under the camera, at the blind spot. You look up at him, wide-eyed, gasping when he rubs his thigh between your legs. He grunts, deeply, softly, and kisses you quiet. And he thinks, there have been way too many situations this whole weekend where you were required to be silent. But still, you moan and raise your arms around his neck (and he hopes that the security cameras are old and have no sound). Then, in his next move, your elbow accidentally hits an extra button.

“Are you sure about this?” Jisung breathes as the doors open to the third floor. Your room is on the seventh.

“Yes, of course.” You frown, brushing your hair through the middle, resting your arm on his broad shoulder. “Why?”

He scrunches his nose. “Just making sure you’re not looking for a way out or anything.” He tilts his head to the going up sign, and you hit his arm.

“I told you not to make fun of me,” you pout.

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, then kisses you again.

And he doesn’t stop kissing you all the way to your room. Just changes the location. You stumble out of the elevator, tripping on your dress as you pull away from him, and he catches your hand, giving your knuckles a princely tap. He pushes you on another wall, hissing – because he dick points toward the ceiling and, every time he presses up against you, it bends to meet you, practically drawn to your pussy – hissing something about wanting you so bad, right now, just another reiteration. He doesn’t know what else to say. Most of the time, you just moan into each other’s mouths, just mash your lips together, trying to keep quiet, so his dirty talk skills are … lacking. He just hopes that he makes up for it with body language.

Jisung kisses and hisses all the way back to your room, both of you knocking into the furniture. “Sorry, I just need you right now,” he keeps saying, excusing the way he practically rams you against the closed door to your bedroom. He protected you from sharp corners and your head from the impact, but he just hurts his hand. Jisung inhales. His hands cup your face like flower petals, bringing you taller, even more on your tippy toes. You steady him by his shoulders, relaxing your jaw, accepting his tongue, and he kisses you chastely, thumbs rubbing into the apples of your cheeks.

And he’s the first one to pull away. Well, you can’t exactly open the door without making the both of you collapse, neither of you balanced correctly on your feet. You’d crash to the floor in an instant.

“I love you.”

Your lips twitch at the corners, curving up your smile wider than it already is. “I love you, too.”

Jisung remembers when he had a crush on you like three years ago. He doesn’t remember when his feelings started, but based on the way everyone teases him, you included sometimes (if you’re not kissing him appreciatively), he’s always had them, from the moment he laid eyes on you reading at the café . And this feels a lot like that – the-the fluttering in his empty stomach, the tingling and hyper-awareness of his limbs, the rush to say anything, just to see what makes you laugh or what makes you stay. He even doodles little hearts in your cheeks with his thumbpads.

“I –“ he swallows. “I –“

“Jisung?” you interrupt, breath shaking out your nose, “Can we have sex now?”

“God, yes.”

Jisung kisses you again, having regained some balance in the beat. He thrashes a hand behind you, fumbling for the door knob, and when he gets it open, he dips you back again, walking you inside the room, supporting you mostly by the ass, hanging you around his neck like jewellery; he should really buy you a new couple ring later. Honestly, he’s mostly surprised by his – and your – breath control and not his core strength (that is what the gym is for!), never getting winded between all the kisses or tongues or teeth. And you – God, you – keep leaning backward, hauling all his 180 centimeters toward the bed, making him more and more impressed by your commitment to zero space for Jesus. You suck his bottom lip inside your mouth, sealing your top lip inside his, and he whimpers, knees buckling again, so he lifts you up and pushes you on the bed, kicking away the stupid bench that slows him down.

“I’m gonna eat you out,” Jisung decides, towering over you.

“Ugh, no,” you whine, squirming the bed into another mess of sheets.

“No?”

“Jisung, I need you to please, please fuck me now, cock inside. We did all the foreplay already, and – and I’m ready, I promise. I want you so bad. You’re so sexy. I –“

He returns his lips to yours, this time softer, sweeter, slower, cutting you off, this time, before you ramble yourself into oblivion (before he has the chance to take you there himself). And you relax again, shoulders slumping into the mattress as he crawls over you, showering you with attention from lips to feet. Jisung builds up his momentum again while you gradually undress, starting with his blazer, pulling one arm out, then the other, redirecting your hands down to his waistband again, starting with the zipper. You creep your nails over the tip of his cock, and he thrusts upward, pushing your hand into a claw around the girth, fucking your hand a few times. His length is too big, you both know, so it bounces over your stomach, almost like a premonition for how deep he’ll go. Jisung tries to get more comfortable, but he slips on your silky dress, the skirt flailing out to the side. The way he falls moves you on your obliques, and he brushes your hair behind your ear, away from your neck. You throw your leg over his, tangling your limbs lackadaisically.

“I – my – it’s too big.”

“A huh,” you nod all the way through your chest, toppling him, straddling one of his thighs. “I know. It’s hot.” You don’t grind him (much to his disappointment), because he is still wearing his tux and your panties are just way too thin and wet at this point (he hopes), but if you ask, and maybe even if you didn’t, he would make this the designated sex suit and fuck you in it whenever he wears it, regardless of the function (actually, there’s a charity gala coming up, when he has to wear this ensemble again). But he wants the intimacy of closeness, of vulnerability, of nakedness this first time.

“No, I just,” Jisung whines, “I need to prep you before you can take it – t-take me.”

You inhale sharply, and he feels it. He trails his eyes up, wide, to meet you, staring at your face, noses touching. Jisung waits for your answer; he knows that you want this too, so he gives you both a moment to collect yourselves, mentally preparing himself, too, for the next step. And a beat passes. Then, he unzips your dress at the back; it’s not long, the zipper, so he doesn’t have to wait even more, but the drag slows time and you squeeze his biceps, encouraging him to go faster. He slides the entire material off you, stripping you down to just your panties. When he goes to do the same for himself, standing at edge of the bed, you kneel, still shorter than him, on the blankets, and do it for him. You start with the tie, slowly loosening it side-to-side. It pulls him forward, and he braces himself on your hips, fingers twisting in the waistband of your panties. You get shirt and under-shirt off quickly, but stop at his pants, the top button already undone and fly down.

“Is – is something wrong?”

“I really want to suck you off again,” you confess, jumping from his dick to his eyes.

Jisung pecks your lips. “You can do it later. We have all night.”

“Yeah, okay, yeah,” you nod, kissing him languidly, leaving him to take off his pants.

“Turn around,” he mumbles on your lips. And this time, you comply, standing on your hands and knees, all fours. Jisung copies you, kneeling eye level with your pretty, glistening lips. He grabs your ass first, in both hands, pulling your vulva apart, panty crotch to the side, two fingers each, middle digits dipping inside, just an interphalangeal crease deep. “Don’t cum yet.”

“Jisung, ple –“ You squeal, falling on your forearms, when he cautiously licks outside, around his fingers, up your slit, and you shudder an exhale. “What h-happened to prep-ping me?” you stutter and whine. “You’ll feel so good inside me, Jisung – ah.”

Jisung drags his thumb down the line of your makeshift thong, rubbing round your asshole tentatively before slipping two long and flexible fingers knuckle deep inside your cunt. His other hand pushes your cheek into the pillow, giving you a head rest, making you ass pop up. And slowly, he draws his fingers out, then pushes them back in three-quarters of the way. He does it again, pulling out, extracting your moan, and pushing in, all the way this time. Jisung sets that steady pace, slow and controlled, and he kisses your ass, leaving a bite mark. It makes you yelp, and you squeeze your pussy, accidentally pulling off. You grind back down, meeting his rough knuckles. And soon, he’s finger fucking you harder, with three fingers, and you’re bouncing on his hand, your panties hooked on his thumb.

“Ah, Jisung, fuck, Park Jisung, that feels so good.”

Blindly, he finds his cock and holds it by the base, squeezing his hand like a cock ring to keep from cumming without you.

“I think,” he pants, “I think I need to fuck you now.”

You nod, enthusiastically, turning on your back. “How do you –”

“Missionary,” Jisung answers too fast, already dragging you into position. “I want to see your pretty face.” He hovers his cock above your pussy, between your plushy thighs, hand around the top. The thrusts once, heavy tip dipping to your stomach, that bulging premonition hitting him all over again. His knuckles rasp, kneading your folds, rolling your clit in the wetness, and your knees fall in, so he has to spread them again. “What if it’s too big?” he wonders out loud, shifting his cock to your entrance.

“I can take it,” you promise, bobbing your head. “I can take it, plea –“

He cuts you off with a firm kiss, smashing his lips ungracefully on yours, and slips the first quarter inside you. The kiss is less to muffle you, since neither of you have to be so quiet right now, more to share this intimacy with you. He adds another inch, shallowly thrusting to get his dick wet.

“Ah, you’re so tight,” he hisses. “I could fuck you like this.”

He thought he prepped you enough, but halfway deep, his cock already hits an impasse, so he tries something that he saw in a porno. Jisung moves your right leg over your leg, giving him access to your ass, jiggling your boobs. The motion pulls his cock out a little, and he pushes it back in, pushes more in, making you both groan.

“Full, so full, Jisung.”

“Oh, God, I’m going to cum if you keep talking.”

You grind your hips down. “You should.”

“I’m not wearing a condom,” he reminds you, gritting his teeth. You pull your ass, showing off the way you take him so well, and he rips your panties, exerting his lack of self-control elsewhere. He throws the tiny material at the wall and falls on your lips, repeating, “I’m not wearing a condom, and I – I cum so much.”

“I know. It's hot, you're so -” you moan, fucking yourself on his dick, slapping his thighs, taking him completely. “F-fill me up, Jisung. I want all of you.”

“I want – I want you, too,” he stutters, brain struggling to multitask between answering you and fucking you.

So, he pushes his palms into the mattress, squelching the rest of his dick inside your pussy, basking in your moans. You boobs bounce circularly every time he bottoms out, and he doesn’t know where to look – your cunt sucks him in, contracting around him without reprieve; your nipples taunt him, showing him something to bite and lick and suck; your lips part perfectly for him to shove his tongue down your throat, expelling a series of staccato moans mixed in with his name. Jisung settles for your collarbone, burying himself in the scent of his cologne marking your skin from earlier. His lips bite the bone, groans getting louder and louder.

“God.” He clutches your knees, dragging you so close. “Is this – is this okay?” he asks, despite not letting up, going faster actually, driving you higher up the bed, making him climb even more on you, chasing you.

“Yes, yes, please don’t stop,” you cry. “I’m gonna cum, Jisung, I’m gonna cum.” And you choke on your words, babbling incoherently, talkin’ nonsense.

“Come on, baby, you can cum,” Jisung encourages you. He stands up straight, thrusting in, and in, and in, bottoming out. He holds his cock fully sheathed, deep, circling his hips over your labia, naked thigh sliding up and down your clit. You claw his arm, dropping into his hand, and he intertwines your fingers. You squeeze his hand, and your pussy clenches on his cock. Everything starts choking him, and he loses his breath, inhaling and inhaling, mouthing at your neck.

Then, you cum, back deflating into the bed, lulling pliantly in his hands, toes releasing the tension.

Jisung picks up his pace, brutalizing your cunt, and you whine and squirm, moaning. He feels the veins in his cock catch more prominently in your pussy, like you don’t want to let him go, so he just keeps pushing and pushing and pushing, your canal practically wringing him dry, and he cums too. Thick ropes control the way his cock jumps inside your uterus, bouncing on your spongey, little G-spot before more spills out, forcing him to remove himself. He planks above you, head hanging low, sweat matting down his hair.

You raise both your hands, brushing it back to see him better, and you prop yourself on your elbows, raising yourself high enough to kiss him, slowly but deeply.

Jisung sighs dreamily, flopping down next to you on his oblique. He tilts your chin up at him.

“You,” he starts, pecking you quickly, “are so perfect.”

“Then,” you giggle, taking his left hand. You run your thumb and index finger down his ring finger. “Will you marry me, Park Jisung?"

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