#learning is difficult and hard won

[rachaeljurassic]

u

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

the limit does not exist!

how spencer helps college!reader understand a little calculus and therefore understand how he loves her.

MDNI | smut word count: 1931 warnings & tags & stuff: fem reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lil bit of overstim hehe, pure unbridled affection, LOVE, FLUFF, hugging, reader cries, this was in fact meant to be written for spence's birthday... sorry about that school is kicking my butt lets just pretend it's october! author's note: this one is for my folks who HATE their calculus class and want spencer reid to give them head instead <3 maybe this can help you romanticize it a bit. i think this is classified as self indulgent…like REALLY self indulgent… hah... anyway i hope you enjoy! let me know your thoughts if u have any, i loveeeee you!! have a great day my hands are shaking posting this smut is so scary!!!!!

You sat in bed, staring down your notebook, eyes narrowed. Limits stared back at you. You were just about at your own limit, if you were being honest. 

Your brain, however sharp and witty it may be, is absolutely not one designed for calculus. A literary analysis essay? Done in half an hour. In depth scientific research project? Easiest months of your life. But there’s something about finding the instantaneous rate of change of a curve at one point in time by finding the slope of a tangent line that hasn't clicked yet. 

A slew of other papers- notes, practice worksheets printed from obscure websites, and formulas- surround you, a sea of unfinished thoughts from the past month of the semester.

You bite on the end of your pen, the little hope you had for a good grade in this class slipping further and further away with each passing moment, like the last ember dying in the remains of a fire.

What you really wanted to be doing was celebrating Spencer’s birthday with him right now. A chocolate cake lay on the kitchen counter and pasta simmers on the stove, but you and your boyfriend had agreed to do a solid hour of work before the celebrations ensued.

You were never particularly strong willed when it came to following through on such agreements.

“Teach me calculus,” you say, a very impressive three minutes later, flopping down on the couch. Your head makes its way to its forever resting spot, Spencer’s lap. He raises his eyebrows slightly, thumb reaching out to trace over the slope of your nose. His eyes flit between you and the file to the side of him. 

“I thought we agreed on an hour.”

“Yeah. But it wouldn’t be a very productive hour if I didn’t know how to do what I have to do. And I missed you.” 

He sighs quietly, closing the file next to him. 

“What do you not understand?” You smile at that, loving how quickly you won.

“Related rates. Like, conceptually.” 

Spencer hums in response.

“It’s October. You’re not even supposed to know related rates yet.”

“Fine. Then let's open presents,” you respond, smiley. His eyebrows get impossibly higher, hand stroking your cheek delicately.

“No. I want our night to be a little more stress free when we celebrate, okay? How about you think about that lovely cake you made for me. What if I decided to squash it so that the diameter would get bigger, going from…let’s say, 20 centimeters to 26 centimeters in 3 seconds, and the height would get smal-”

“That wouldn't be nice. It took me like four hours,” you interrupt, grumbling. He cracks a smile.

“For the sake of the example, let's say I was an awful boyfriend and really wanted to ruin all the hard work you put in for me.”

You roll your eyes.

“Hey,” he says, hand moving down to touch your jaw softly. “Don’t do that. Don’t be difficult. I’m helping you.”

“Sorry. I guess I need you to zoom out a little. I don’t really get why I’m learning this as a whole.” Spencer’s eyes pore into yours, staring down at you adoringly for a small moment as he comes up with an answer.

“Calculus helps us begin to explain the unexplainable by harnessing what we can,” Spencer says simply. “Einstein once said that, ‘Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas,’ which makes it simple in practice, but I actually like to think about it as the opposite philosophically. Trying to find logic in the more poetic ideas.”

You cuddle deeper in his lap.

“Think he would agree with that?” you ask. “I do answer to Einstein before you, unfortunately.” Spencer bends down to kiss your hair.

“I think so. He also had a really nice quote where he remarked that, ‘Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love.’ He said, ‘How on earth can you explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love? Put your hand on a stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with that special girl for an hour and it seems like a minute. That's relativity.’”

Spencer takes a deep breath.

“Math doesn’t explain how I love you. It can’t. But I love the fact that it tries to. It kinda makes you wanna learn it as best you can.”

You process that for a long second and nod. He keeps talking.

… 

Presents get opened, and cake gets eaten before dinner. Of course.

You’re now in bed, on top of the covers, forcing Spencer to give you a fashion show of the new sweater vest and tie you got him. He turns to you after putting it on, and you beam. 

“I really like it. You look great. Do you like it?” you ask. He nods, smiling back at you.

“I’m gonna wear it to work tomorrow.” 

You beckon for Spencer to come closer, sitting up in bed. Your hands go out to the tie, tugging at the knot softly. He stares down at you until eventually interrupting your motions with a slow kiss, hands cupping your face.

“You’re so pretty,” he mutters.

He pulls away and finishes what you started, folding the tie neatly and setting it in the drawer. Then comes the vest, and soon enough, he’s just in his boxers.

“You’re the pretty one,” you say quietly. “Come to bed.” He crawls on next to you, tugging you into his arms. “Happy birthday, Spence. I love you.” He dips his forehead to your shoulder.

“I love you.”

Before you know it, he’s shifted on top of you, moving down. Fast. You blink, hard, trying to rid your head of the hazy endorphins as you register what he’s doing.

“What? No, I was gonna do that. It’s your birthday. You don’t have to,” you protest.

“But I really, really want to, darling girl,” he murmurs back, kissing your knee and softly pushing it to the side.

You fluster and Spencer just looks at you, fingers tracing shapes on your waist, waiting for you to be ready. 

“Well. Um. Okay. If you insist. I can’t really deny the birthday boy.” Your voice is small, and a little giddy smile grows on your face. Of course Spencer Reid would want to give you head on his birthday. 

He smiles a little against the bare skin of your hip where your top meets your shorts. Then he meets your eyes. 

“You know you can, though, right?” he asks, voice a little more serious. You reach out to touch his hair softly. 

“Yeah. I know.”

Fingers hook your shorts, gently pulling them down. He presses a kiss to your thigh, and then he suddenly looks down at it. 

“Soft,” he murmurs, like he’s making a mental note. He presses another, and another, incrementally going closer and closer to your soaked through underwear. His eyebrows scrunch when he sees the wet spot. “All this from a few kisses?” 

You blush, unable to respond. 

Spencer’s fingers hook a centimeter of your underwear. “These?” he checks.

“Yes, please,” you manage. He tugs them down, silently noticing the slickness of your sex, and exhales shakily.

“How many times on average does it take for a guy to call you pretty on a given day before you get annoyed?” he murmurs, soft smile playing on his face. You smile too, head cloudy from his words, but it immediately drops when his lips press directly against your pulsing clit, kissing it softly.

“Fuck,” you say (Spencer would argue moan) softly (loudly). You let out a content sigh, and he moves to suckle it, actions becoming less and less delicate. 

It’s not harsh, but incessant. Spencer knows what you can take. He knows exactly what you can take. You’re both quiet for a bit, save for your breathy moans. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, ripping you both out of your individually hazy and dirty and distracted minds. “You’re too far away.” He looks up to you, face parallel to your aching core, hair beautifully messy and mouth glistening.

After a second, he grabs your hips, gently pushing you up against the pillows so you’re propped up at a better angle. He then shifts his body up wordlessly so he’s more above you, dipping his head down to give you a soft kiss. You taste yourself, tongue darting out to lick your lips.

His hand takes over where his mouth was, sliding in between your folds with a practiced ease. Spencer looks down at you, eyes wide and flitting between yours, searching for a reaction.

You reach out and wrap your arms around him, holding him close. “Holy shit, I love you,” you murmur.

His fingers lightly graze your clit again before one slides into you. “Angel,” he breathes out, so quietly. “I love you too. This okay? Are you okay?”

You nod feverishly and lift your hips to meet his hand, always in a perpetual state of wanting more, to be closer. Your bodies are melded so close together, barely giving him room to push his hand into you. He doesn’t even bother to ask you to use your words or keep your hips down, like he might on a regular night.

He pulls his head back to watch as he pushes another finger into you, stretching you just a little. “There we go. You always feel like heaven around me.”

Your eyes flit up to his face as he says those words, now having a little more room to observe him. You focus on the slope of his nose and curve of his mouth. 

“You’re so perfect,” you say quietly, adoringly, before you even realize it was true.

You blink at that thought. Spencer Reid is perfect, despite whatever universal odds deeming that impossible.

Those graphs, those formulas, now laying discarded & crumpled on the ground. They click, a little bit. You understand why Albert Einstein wanted to spend his life developing theories of relativity.

This is how Spencer sees you? What he was talking about earlier?

This is how he sees you?

The thought is almost too much.

Spencer sees your face, and not knowing what's going on in your head, slides down his free hand from your cheek to your carotid, feeling your racing pulse. “Take a deep breath for me, okay? You're about to come, huh?”

You inhale and are met with peace. Then your orgasm hits you like a wave. You clench hard around his fingers, and he just watches it happen, fascinated. “Baby,” he coos softly at you.

It wasn’t just your sensitivity he’s currently maximizing on or the little kisses he dips down to leave on your neck that sealed the deal, but the very thought that you could be loved in a way that is so perfectly impossible.

You exhale breathily as Spencer pushes you through the last trails of your climax, fingers not caring one bit that you just had your world tilted on its axis. 

“Spencer. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you say eventually, overstimulated.

“You’re okay. Did so good.” he murmurs, fingers slipping out of you. 

His thumb brushes your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even realize was dripping down.

“Don’t cry, you always cry. It’s my birthday. Don’t cry on my birthday,” he whispers soothingly, affection lacing his voice.

“I’m not.” 

Another one falls. 

You reach and press out that perpetual little slope between his eyebrows with your thumb, gentle, like you might break him. “I’m not crying.”

Spencer lets you lie.

[surgepricing]

I think about Azula shooters often and their common refrain of "if Azula hadn't had a mental breakdown, she would've won" and I'm here to tell you that no, she wouldn't have.

There is no universe in which Azula was winning that fight with Zuko (or Katara, for that matter).

Azula spent so much of Book 2 being built up as this deadly terrifying force against whom the heroes are badly outmatched that it can be difficult to catch exactly how quickly Zuko is advancing.

Back up a bit to Book One. For the fearsome exiled crown prince of the Fire Nation, Zuko's not that impressive a firebender. He's not bad by any stretch, and he's able to lay the untrained Sokka and Katara flat pretty easily. Then he gets in the ring with Aang, who is an airbending master, and the difference between a regular bender and a master becomes apparent when Aang literally puts his ass to bed:

People have attributed this to the fact that no one's fought an airbender in 100 years, but I think it's also worth noting that Aang (a 12 year old from a pacifist nation) has probably never fought anyone before. Like, ever. And yet the second Aang thinks "okay, I'll attack back", the fight's over.

Zuko's got the same genetic predisposition for firebending talent that Azula does, yet it never seems to manifest because of his mental blocks. At the beginning of the series, he's already so beat down that all he really has is conviction, pride, and anger, so even with training from Iroh (the firebending master, thank you very much), he struggles. Yet throughout Book 2, when he has no time to train because he's on the run, he actually seems to advance faster. The fact that his bending is literally tied to his character arc (as his morals become tangled and he has to fight off aforementioned mental blocks) is pretty brilliant. Like, by the time of the Crossroads of Destiny, Zuko getting his ass handed to him by Aang is a pretty consistent feature of the show--he just can't match wits with him.

Hell, at the beginning of the series, he and Iroh (again: the actual firebending master) launch a combined power surface-to-air attack...which Aang casually swats away into a nearby ice wall. Come the Crossroads of Destiny, however, and Zuko by himself launches this bigass fireball that blows through Aang's defenses.

Zuko advances so quickly that it's scary. That prodigious talent is in him even if it doesn't come through as cleanly as with Azula. Who, by the way, was busy about to get flattened by Katara some few dozen feet away, until Zuko took over and then effectively stalemated her himself.

All of this in retrospect makes it abundantly clear why Zuko's firebending seemed to skyrocket so much when he learned true firebending from the Sun Warriors: it was really the only thing left. He's hard a hard road learning how to fight waterbenders, earthbenders, and airbenders, and even if unconsciously, he's applying the philosophy Iroh taught him about augmenting his bending style with aspects of other styles (see also, the waterbending-like fire whips he uses in the above gif). Once he actually understands fire and how it works, he's got it mastered. Hence why any gap between him and Azula effectively disappears as soon as their next fight--before her friends have betrayed her and her stability goes out the window. There's no real sense of urgency to their fight at the Boiling Rock prison. True, Sokka's presence with the sword helps, but Zuko doesn't look remotely worried and he counters Azula's every attack perfectly.

All her life, Azula only ever learned fire. She was taught by the best people the fire nation can employ, so she knows all the cool tricks, but she's still poisoned by the corrupted firebending practiced in the modern ATLA timeline. Unlike Zuko, who managed to get the basics if nothing else from Iroh (fire comes from the breath, and can be used to survive as much as to kill), Azula has always used fire as a weapon and a means to hurt others. She has no true knowledge of the craft, meaning she's got the same weaknesses as Zhao, she's just better disciplined to the point she can make up for it.

Zuko's victory was a given considering Azula's complete loss of control by the time of Sozin's comet, but even had she been in a perfect mental state, she'd have lost, because in many ways Zuko is simply the better firebender.

And that's the truth of it.

[starlightguh]

The Sharpest Tongue

Word count: 2,822

Summary: What if the stone Sylus won hadn't been the right one to send him and MC home to Linkon? As MC struggles to learn the local language, she finds herself the subject of the other warriors in the clan. Too bad it seems like Sylus has the sharper tongue amongst them all.

Tags: Cunnilingus, Grasslands AU, Jealous!Sylus

A/N: This is a bit shorter than I had planned, but I wanted to write something for the grasslands AU and saw someone mention we needed more jealousy grassland stories, so here you go! 100% transparency, I could not find anything on Talanian language, so I used Mongolian words, I'm not familiar with the language so if there are mistakes, I apologize!! I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Find this fic on Ao3 as well!

The Khan had given Sylus the bright red stone for his victory in the battle against the best warriors in the clan. My worries weren’t for nothing as there wasn’t any trace of meta flux emanating from it. No matter how hard either of us tried, we couldn’t resonate with it.

So we were stuck in the grasslands.

For someone who should have been happy due to our victory, both me and Sylus held somber faces around the celebratory fires and festivities. I could feel his red eyes staring at my downcast face as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“We’ll just keep searching kitten…As long as we’re together we can keep looking for a way to return home.”

I inhaled deeply and nodded silently as I turned to look at him, his expression was really soft and full of apology. I wanted to go home badly. But…Sylus had a point, wallowing won’t do anything. We’ll just make a plan to find a way back to Linkon.

I steeled myself by fixing my slouched posture and closing my eyes to take deep breaths. After a few moments I opened my eyes and smiled at Sylus, “Well I guess now is the time to embrace the nomad lifestyle…Until we find our way back home that is.”

Sylus stands, my eyes lingering on his distracting buff physique as he holds out his hand.

“Let’s not weep and try to make the most of our time together, hm? Shavanika.”

His baritone voice stirs an excitement in my belly as I take his hand and he begins to twirl me to the rhythm of the festive music the villagers are playing by the campfire. I feel the beads in my hair slap my cheeks as I spin around the orange hues of the warm flames near me. For a brief while as me and Sylus danced around the flames, my anxieties had drifted away. I was grateful to have him by my side and ease my worries.

My bare feet feel unsteady as I haphazardly try to follow the rhythm of an unfamiliar tune, but the warm and strong arms of the silver-haired warrior in front of me hold me steady. I smile and laugh at Sylus’ serious expression as we dance and lose ourselves to a night full of joy.

—————————

After the festival, we packed up and moved to travel alongside the rest of the villagers. Me and Sylus agreed we would adapt to our surroundings of the people around us as we tried to find any clues about a way home.

I was not the fastest learner, but I did get a few things down, the women taught me duties I was expected to help with, from herding livestock, sewing, cooking, and laundry, I was slowly earning my place amongst the others. However, I was struggling with learning the language. I could pick up a few words here and there, but I couldn’t really understand or communicate as properly as I would like.

Then there was Sylus, he was a polyglot so picking up the language wasn’t difficult for him. He must have been fluent only after a solid two weeks of study. I was envious, but also grateful since I relied on his help a lot to learn and understand.

The warriors happily accepted Sylus, he easily fit in and would help them with hunts for resources as well as military strategies and ideas. The Khan favored him a lot and Tara told me whispers of them wanting to promote Sylus to a general title.

While we hadn’t been traveling with our clan for more than a month, we easily slipped into our roles quickly. And now it seems we quickly have found ourselves involved in more politics than we would like.

It was like any other day, I was riding my cream-colored stallion through the grassy fields trying to get the flock of sheep on the right path. I called out the different sounds and commands I was taught while keeping a stead-fast pace on horseback.

My hunter's instincts kicked in as I noticed one sheep was away from the herd, and upon further investigation, it was being hunted by a hungry coyote.

“Shit,” I hissed to myself and acted quickly as I grabbed a rope from my satchel. As the coyote pounced, I lassoed it and used my strength to pull him away from the sheep.

I was heaving and sweaty as I just lifted the clueless sheep back to the herd. As I was getting back on my horse, I heard some whistles call out to me. I glanced around and noticed a group of four warriors walking up and cooing at me.

I didn’t really recognize them, I only knew they were of the same clan since their chest guards had the same color ropes that Sylus wore. The men spoke to me in Talanian, but I could only pick out words like ‘strong’ and ‘brave.’

“I uh…am not familiar with the language yet, chlaarai .”

They seemed to just smile as one made a comment to the group in Talanian, they laughed and just waved goodbye toward me as they rode off.

I didn’t think much of this encounter until the next day.

We had set up camps deep in the Northern Grasslands, orange was taking over the skies as the dawn broke. I was hanging clothes I had just washed in the river on a clothesline outside one of the elder's yurts.

Behind me I heard the sharp tongue of Talanian, I glanced and noted those same big warriors from the other day were talking. I had paid them no mind as I did my duties.

Suddenly I heard the sharp thuds of angry footsteps behind me and a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around my waist. I glanced up and saw a very pissed-off Sylus glaring off in the direction of the four other men.

He yelled at them in Talanian and growled when the other men responded in what I could only assume was a taunt. Sylus let go of my waist and marched up to one of the men and grabbed him by his leathers. People started to gather to watch the rowdy commotion.

I turned and saw Tarna and sighed in relief since she could explain what was going on, “Hey, Tarna….What exactly is happening?” I asked her urgently as it sounded like the men were raising their voices.

“Well…It seems the Khan’s second son Gansu said something about your er….” She paused and looked shy when translating what was said, “birthing hips, and how he wanted you as a wife to bear his children.”

I stood frozen as it all clicked into place. I looked over at Sylus who was still arguing with them, a scowl marred on his face.

“Sylus came in and said they shouldn’t speak about you that way that you were his beloved. Gansu told him that it didn’t matter to him unless you two were wedded or you were pregnant.”

“Seriously?!? If he’s the son of a Khan he can marry whoever he wants. Why would he want me?”

Tarna shook her head at me, “That’s why Sylus is arguing, he says that you are with him and will never have anyone else’s children.”

The arrogant Gansu held a smirk as he practically hissed at Sylus, a dark expression glazed over Sylus’ face. I’ve only ever caught glimpses of Sylus angry, but never this murderous.

“What did he say?” I asked Tarna, my voice full of worry. I could feel the icy chill of Sylus’ anger even from a distance.

“Gansu just said ‘well whoever takes it keeps it’ as a threat… I think you should go over and stop Sylus, if he gets in a fight with the Khan’s son they could severely punish him,” Tarna warned me.

I nodded and without a second thought, I ran up behind Sylus and gently placed my hand on his lower back. His tense body seemed to ease up a bit at my touch as I tried my hardest to speak in Talanian.

“ Amarkhan bai….S-Shavanika …” Fight not, beloved . These were the only words I could best make out with my limited knowledge.

Silently he grabbed my hand and glared down Gansu as he turned to walk away with me. I felt his grip on my hand tighten as Gansu and his men still taunted behind us. We began walking off towards our yurt and it wasn’t until we were a safe distance away I had to whimper to Sylus.

“Your grip is too tight it hurts,” I cried.

He seemed to snap out of his trance and he softened his grip and rubbed his large thumb soothingly across my hand, “Sorry sweetie… I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“I don’t exactly know what was said, but Tarna translated some of what you guys were saying. I didn’t realize the Khan’s son and his friends saw me herding sheep yesterday.”

“The Talanian language is very harsh, most of the words are very direct. The disgusting words from the Khan’s second son really got under my skin is all… Why didn’t you tell me you ran into him yesterday?”

“I didn’t think it was important… Also, I hardly saw you yesterday,” I sigh, “You came back to our tent pretty late… Are you sure you weren’t up practicing Talanian with the other village girls?” I hiss a bit. While the Khan’s son may be chasing my skirts, I can’t ignore the fact that all the girls of the village have been trying their hardest to catch Sylus’ eye.

Sylus stopped in his tracks and growled he turned to me and looked down with a sharp gaze, “How many times do I need to express to you I’m not interested in the other village girls?”

I match his glare and put my hands on my hips, “And how many times do I have to tell you I can handle myself, the Khan’s son doesn’t scare me. I’ll just refuse him.”

Sylus tsked his lips and leaned down to lift me up on his shoulder.

“Hey! Put me down!”

“No. It seems like I need to practice Talanian with the only village girl who matters to me,” he says sharply. He gives my butt a playful smack as I’m hoisted over his shoulder, my face in the direction of his backside.

I smack his butt back and he just chuckles, “You’re not getting out of this one Shavanika, so simmer down kitten.”

When he strutted into our tiny little yurt and set me down, his red eyes shined with a mixture of excitement and mischief. His hand remained on my waist as he spoke in a low and seductive tone.

My back arched at the feeling of his hands trailing down my waist and gathering my skirts up in his large rough palms. He set his other palm in the dip on my hip as he stared at me with almost an appraising look in his eye. “Let’s start with the lesson…What did that man call these?”

His left dominant hand was under my skirt caressing my thigh, I let out a shaky breath as I closed my eyes and tried to remember the foreign words spoken earlier.

“T-Toro? Kha-?” I sputtered out as his palm found its way to one of my bare-asscheeks. He squeezed it and tsked his lips as he brought his face closer to mine and he spoke lowly.

“Torkah Khongo,” the purr in his voice did nothing but further my arousal. I was being engulfed by the dominant energy Sylus was putting out. It didn’t take very much for me to become putty in his strong hands.

His other hand reached under my skirt as well and without further notice, the lengthy skirt that usually met my ankles were now scrunched up at my waist. Underwear wasn’t a common thing within the tribe, so I had been forced to forgo that luxury and be commando under my lengthy traditional clothing. I think for a situation such as a lustful Sylus, it was beneficial to be as naked as possible.

“Do you know what the translation is?” He quirked a brow.

“B-Birthing Hips?”

“Mhmm,” there was a slight growl to his response, “he said that you had the birthing hips to bear him many sons.” Sylus gripped my hips in a tightening grip. “Too bad for him these hips are miniikh.”

Sylus dropped to his knees in a squat as his mouth bit a part of my inner thigh, his hands rubbing the bare skin before him. “Do you know the translation?”

His mouth placed hot and wet kisses in my inner thigh, teasing me by being so close to where I actually wanted his mouth. I gasped out an answer as he was torturing me with kisses, “M-Mine?”

“Good girl, seems like you do know more than I thought,” he whispers breathlessly, “Let me reward you.”

He then licked my dripping slit, I let out a whimper in surprise.

“Tell me, who do these hips belong to?” He asked as he pulled away from licking my heat.

“Y-You.”

He smacked my thigh at my answer, “Ah-Ah-Ah, in Talanian sweetie.”

“ Ta,” I moaned out as he suckled on my sensitive pearl.

With a pop of his lips, he pulled away and smirked, “Hmm that’s a good answer, but I have a better one. Repeat after me: Nökhör .”

The pronunciation of the word feels strange as I try my best to repeat it, “noct-core?”

Sylus just shakes his head and repeats it slower for me, when I finally pronounce it right he rewards me by entering one of his fingers into my dripping center.

“Keep saying it sweetie, practice makes perfect,” he chuckles and his mouth finds my center again as he slowly devours me.

With his finger slowly pumping me and his greedy tongue flickering on my sensitive folds, my voice is nothing but a loud and needy whine of this new word he’s taught me and I haven’t a clue what it means. All I know is Sylus likes it as he happily groans into my dripping cunt.

“Louder. I want the whole tribe to hear you scream it, so everyone knows we belong to each other and no one else,” his lower face is dripping in my essence and his red eyes have a bit of a manic and desperate look as I look down on him.

“Sylus….” I lose my mind as he now has three fingers in me and the mouth of a sinner as he loudly slurps at my folds with his sharp tongue.

Ecstasy and euphoria wash over me as I come on his face with that new and unfamiliar word on my tongue. My knees shake and nearly give out, but Sylus stands and lifts me up so my legs are wrapped around his middle.

I lean my head forward as I pant into his ear, “What’s the translation of that word.”

He laughs as he rubs my back while I come down from my high, “Why, it’s my future title…It means ‘husband.’”

“Sylus! How bold of you to assume!”

He frowned at this and glared at me, “I'm not assuming anything, but unless you want to be the wife of the Khan’s son, then you must be mine…I can’t protect you from the leaders otherwise.”

I blush, “I-It’s just so embarrassing….I never thought about marriage.”

He smirks a bit, “Well I'm glad I can change your mind, at least while we’re here. Linkon has a very different culture from the grasslands, and we can talk about a proper marriage when we return home. Deal?”

“Fine but you’re not knocking me up while I'm here,” I huff at him as he lays me down on our pelts and strips off the rest of his clothes.

“I make no promises, but I’ll do my best. You’re just too tempting, Shavanika.”

“Only for you my Nökhör.”

That night Sylus made me scream so loud that the Khan’s son did nothing but glare daggers as Sylus confidently walked through the village the next day I, on the other hand, was forced to stay in bed due to my wobbly knees. When I finally returned to my duties after a day's rest, the other girls just giggled as they saw me.

Tarna translated a message for me that the elders are happy for whatever blessings me and Sylus marriage may bring, but to keep it to ourselves at night. I was horrified and embarrassed, while Sylus walked around as the proud warrior both in the grasslands and in the bedroom.

The strongest warrior and the sharpest tongue will always come out on top I suppose.

~fin~

Translation guide:

Shavanika - Beloved

Chlaarai - Sorry

Amarkhan bai - Fight not

Torkah Khongo - Birthing Hips

Miniikh - Mine

Ta - You

Nökhör - Husband

[ladyofrosefire]

fuck it, bg3 companions shower routine

Shadowheart: Shar hates self-care, but a Shadowheart does take pride in her hair, and a Shadowheart who has learned to be kind to herself can indulge. Long, complicated hair routine, very specific water temperature, and a tendency toward long-ass depression showers. LOVES a bubble bath and will make a whole event of it with flower petals and candles just for her. Will bring a book with a little book tray and a glass of wine.

Astarion: Similarly complicated hair routine. Gotta hydrate the curls, and being dead does not do nice things to your hair. Less prone to standing there staring at nothing while the horrors set in, but prone to scrubbing too hard. Similarly fond of a bubble bath, although without the book or flowers, although he will fuck with an essential oil heater and likes to make his own blends.

Lae'zel: Queen of the 4 minute shower. She has been accused of not even waiting for the water to heat up, but she likes it blistering. Does not actually use 3-in-1, thank you. Having fairly short hair helps. She finds the other companions baffling. Would get bored in a bubble bath unless she had company (rubber duck counts).

Wyll: Sings. If someone called him on it, he would be embarrassed, the first time, for about a minute. Neither wildly efficient nor inclined to standing there for ages and ages and prefers to shower in the morning. Washing his hair is a chance to relax and take care of himself, although before he has his family back, it can be a bit melancholy. He has fallen asleep in the bath before. I feel like he'd love a bath bomb and he'd love the full romantic evening with candles and flowers and music.

Karlach: Please, please someone boil her. Once she gets her engine fixed all the way, she tries a cold shower just to remember what it feels like and keeps up a running commentary about how much it sucks while also not turning up the temperature. Absolutely loves sharing a shower with someone and will also sing. Should not attempt her little jig on wet tiles. May try anyway. Someone should introduce her to proper hair/skin care because if anyone is using 3-in-1, I'm sorry, it's Karlach. Genuinely cannot sit still for a bubble bath unless she has company to cuddle.

Gale: Voted Faerun's Most Likely to Relitigate Arguments in the Shower, Even if He Won Originally. Loves to pamper himself, canonically, loves a spa day, also canonically. You simply are not getting the bathroom back for a good hour, although not all that time involves running water. Plays around with different products and researches the living hell out of everything. Loves a long soak. The only person with a feline in their house to ever bathe in peace. Constantly torn between wanting a book with him when he has a bath and not wanting to get the pages steamy and damp, much less actually wet.

Minthara: Her ideal hair wash involves someone else doing it for her while also having the utmost certainty that the person will not attempt to murder her. If her partner washes her hair for her, she turns into a puddle. She has an incredibly specific lineup of products. If she shares, understand that she has bestowed upon you a great gift. More about bath salts than bubbles and could be persuaded to a sufficiently elegant bath bomb (it would not be a difficult check).

Halsin: Low-flow showerhead user. Hell, he might be the kind of person to turn the water off entirely when not soaking/rinsing out his hair... However, he is not immune to the "shower together to save water" line even though he KNOWS it doesn't work that way. He needs low-scent soaps/etc considering his heightened sense of smell. And listen, this man does not fit in a bathtub unless he goes somewhere special or finds a particularly large one. He made everyone floaty ducks, properly sealed against water damage, and he has one for himself that holds his soap.

Jaheira: Understands that having a chair in the shower is just being kind to yourself and proceeds accordingly. Will revisit arguments she had that day, but despite that has a quick and fairly simple routine. She needs the water pressure to pound the everloving hell out of her back. Loofa on a stick user. Like Wyll, she has fallen asleep in a bathtub, in part thanks to having and using a bath cushion. Truly, the expert on bath-based comfort.

Minsc: Also sings in the shower. LOUDLY. Boo is allowed to sit a shelf out of the way. The best way to get him to use lotion is to give him something that smells yummy. He has similar problems to Halsin regarding fitting in bathtubs. He tries anyway. He has been banned from at least one hotspring for doing a cannonball.

[dimepdf]

★  𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇-𝐀, 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇-𝐀, 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄. + 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

masterlist. / taglist. / tip jar. synopsis. no matter how many times you try to convince yourself that Miguel is the bane of your existence, the way you react during training proves otherwise.

─── ☆ notes. i need fics of miguel being an absolute dick, like a petty bitch just for the hell of it i need more attitude yk? Like if that man isn't calling me a slut it ain't canon! | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 4.3k (33 min read).

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni | no spoilers | smut, enemies to lovers, maybe mutual pining, fighting and violence, semi public sex, gym sex, mentions of abuse, size difference, pain kink, strength kink, degradation kink, manhandling, power play(?), begging, rough sex, cervix kissing, choking, fangs, biting, marking, cunnilingus, eye contact, hair pulling, creampie, open ended, not an taiyo fic without a few typos.

IF YOU ASKED any of the other Spider-men what they loved so much about being Spider-Man, their answers would all be the same, ranging from "the suit" to "the enhanced abilities." It was a no-brainer that being a superhero came with a few awesome perks.

Which was why your answer was just a bit confusing, "the combat." You would always smile, despite the many eyebrows raises and looks that convinced you you had to be some type of overcover masochist, especially since you would never really go into true detail about why.

Your reasoning behind putting on the mask was similar to all the others: another traumatized kid being thrown into a whole new reality that you never would have dreamed of being possible.

Sadly, you had been raised with the loss of most of your loved ones, and your family was in shambles from the abuse you would go through from them. It was the reason why it was difficult for you to grow up and make many friends, let alone navigate your abilities on your own accord, which was why it was a whole different ball game when you first joined the spider society.

When you first met Miguel O'Hara, you thought he was an overly intimidating man with an even more scary personality. Your aesthetics and morals would clash in the first few run-ins you would have with him.

In all honesty, you first thought him to be a massive dick who surprisingly needed more therapy than you did. From his bored expression to his unnerving glare, it was clear upon the first introduction that you two just would not get along.

Which was why the universe made him the only spider person willing and with enough free time to train you. It came as a surprise to you both, who are usually butting heads. Miguel was adamant about not wanting to waste his time training some little girl who didn't even know how to throw a punch.

With much shit-talking on your part and a lot of teasing claims of him being afraid that you were going to kick your ass, training had quite literally started in full swing.

It was probably a bad move on your part to push the buttons of the guy who was teaching you how to fight. Miguel was clear with his fight-style techniques. He was nimble with his limbs and swift on his feet. It was hard for anyone to get a hit on him, especially since he wasn't the type to hold back his punches. 

His teaching style was the same: your sessions included throwing you around as if you were some ragdoll and picking you up as if you weighed nothing, just to slam you into the ground with full bruising force.

There would be some very rare occasions when you would manage to get the upper hand on him. Miguel was about a foot taller than you, not to mention how pathetically compressed you looked standing next to him. You learned that the only way you could manage to get the upper hand was by using your size difference to your advantage.

All the sessions you won were hosted by you managing to tangle yourself from his claws and climb his towering figure into a headlock, praying that you had enough strength in your legs to make him tap out.

"How is she not dead yet?" Miles would mutter, looking concerned, as he stood from the sidelines of the training room, watching one of your sessions, as the blonde by his side didn't even wince at the sound of Miguel untangling you from the headlock you had him in.

His arms moved faster than you could process as he managed to loosen your hold enough to slam the air from your lungs as you fell back facing against the mat so hard that even Miles was convinced he could feel the blow in the lower spine.

"I mean, at this point, I'm kind of convinced she’s turned into his personal punching bag." Miles strains to watch Miguel not even wipe a sweat as he sprung back on his feet. He stretched out his full body, towering over you, curled flat against the mat, trying to collect your breathing as well as your broken ego.

Gwen nodded in agreement. "I don't even know how someone could hit someone so...squishy? She’s just so cute." She muttered, watching with her arms crossed. 

"This punching bag needs to learn that in the real world, people aren't going to go as easy on her just because she’s cute." Miguel, despite glaring at the two bystanders, leaned down and yanked you back onto your stumbling feet. 

Your fingers combed through the matted curls now drenched in sweat away from your forehead, using your water break as the perfect excuse to help cover up the reaction to the sudden compliment that came from his lips and the way he had made you feel.

"And her being my personal punching bag is completely at her fault, if you want to learn how to fight, you have to learn how to take a few punches." You couldn't help but roll your eyes and wave your hand out in annoyance at another one of Miguel O’Hara’s famous lectures.

"I’m not a punching bag, did you not see the hold I had on him early?" You huffed, almost choking on your water, trying to protest. Gwen humored your claim, the blonde reaching out and rubbing your shoulder out of support as you continued with your defense. "Any tighter, and I would have easily snapped his neck."

Of course, Miguel only smirked as you continued grasping at straws at the point of trying to prove to your friends your improvement, his eyes flitting back and forth at the exchange, expressionless at the sight of you managing to still joke around as if you weren't about to pass out from fatigue at any second.

"And was that before or after the part where I kicked your ass, little girl?" He shot out, chipping away at the final lock that held back your annoyance, you hadn't even had time to process the insult before he bumped his shoulder into you on his way out of the training room.

His rude exit enticed a round of reactions from Miles and Gwen trying their awkward best to comfort the boiling pot of anger they saw written all over your face, rolling your eyes, you pushed past the two, not without grumbling a string of insults in Miguel’s name to the washrooms.

You blessed the spider lords for somehow having the ability to shower under running water, let alone the unexplainable strange amount of amenities that the spider society dimensions had. 

Like a web shooter's wonderland, you quickly shed the sweating clothes you trained in and stepped foot into the cold cubicle shower booth, letting the water run for a bit until enough steam fogged clouded stepping under the stream. Even with the hot water splashing pressure against your aching muscles, no amount of water could manage to wash away the annoying feeling in your legs. 

It was enough of a jab at your pride to even find Miguel attractive in the first place, and here your body was betraying you once more, begging, throbbing desperately for his every touch in its every form, and having the nerve to grow more intense during your training.

The feeling had yet to fully disappear the next day, even with your session starting off with you fueled from yesterday's comments. You tried pushing the feeling as you were just ready to have Miguel mutter another word insult with the ass kick you were ready to give him. It was the only possible explanation for why you were so jittery about getting to training on time.

"It took you long enough." Was the first thing you heard Miguel announce throughout the empty room.

He wasn’t wearing his suit—neither of you did while training—instead, he was wearing dark gray sweatpants paired with some random dark red graphic shirt that fit him a bit too snuggly to leave room for imagination around his arms.

"Almost thought you were gonna skip out."

You were aware enough to spot this quick observation of your outfit as well. Keeping it casual and opting for better mobility, you shimmied yourself into plain Nike shorts that stopped higher up than you had expected them to on your thighs with a loose tank top that peeked out the straps of your sports bra.

Nothing about your clothes screamed attention grabbing—at least that's what you thought before you caught Miguel’s red-tinted stare on the way your shorts hugged your thighs.

He glanced away, muttering something in Spanish you couldn't quite translate the moment your fingers fidgeted with the bottom hems of the shorts, tugging them slightly more down while deciding to break the tense silence that had managed to sneak up on you. "So what are we doing today?"

"Huh, I’ve been thinking." He answered, followed by the clearing of his throat, "We try something a little different." You could never get used to the roughness of his voice or the way he spoke with so much arrogance that it reminded just about everyone that he thought he was better than just about everyone.

Even now that you stepped towards the middle of the mat, standing rigidly just a few paces away from him, you could tell from that stupid, cocky expression as he stood looking down at you that there was no possible way that he would ever see you as a real threat. "I want you to try to hit me." 

Your brows creased together in confusion. 

"What?" was all you asked, which seemed to be the wrong question to ask as Miguel stretched out a sigh from his mouth, his hands coming close to his to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

"I said hit me." He speaks more slowly, making sure to mockingly over pronounce every symbol in every word as if you were a child. "Preferably soon and as hard as you can." A grimace finds itself twisting on your lips before you can even process your bubbling annoyance. Your body moved on autopilot because of your keen senses, jumping over the swing of his left leg with ease.

You couldn't say that swift grace stuck with your attempt at a counterattack. Bending your knee just enough to reach out and kick, you were only met with the bottom of your foot stomping flat against the floor mat and Miguel dodging your kick, standing just a few paces away. "Too predictable," he scolded in that annoyingly deep voice you hated oh so much and totally did not turn on you at all. You sprung yourself up by the heels of your feet and charged at him with full determination to land at least one punch on his stupidly chiseled, handsome face.

It had been your second mistake, giving him too much time to brace himself. Already regretting your emotionally impulsive start, resulting in the punch you swung being easily deflected by Miguel.

His hand wrapped entirely around your wrist, bending your arm almost out of your socket and kicking the back of your knee to the mat with his heel. You feel down to a kneel with a hissing pain in your arm threatening to get worse at any wrong twist.

"Lose that fucking attitude, or you’ll get sloppy." As if your body could radiate any more anger, you knew he was just trying to push your buttons, trying to throw you off your game with smack talk that was not working on you or anything.

"Again," he prompted, letting your arm go and stepping back, egging on another attack from you.

"Give me a damn minute." No matter how much you wanted to snap back at him with something snarky, you knew it would only prove his point entirely—not only that but also the fact that he was mentally hitting you in all the places that he knew counted the most to throw you off your game. 

Biting back the insult you already had threatened to slip from your tongue instead of making a point by rolling your eyes as you stumbled back to your feet. Rolling your sore shoulder back as your eyes scan over his stance, trying to find the best opening for a better attack, you steady your breath and cloud your mind in thought. "You aren't going to get anywhere but dead standing around like that, you know."

So much for wanting to consider your options. Miguel took the first swing at you and was on the verge of kicking you on your ass if it weren't for your shoddy dodge.

"Didn't you just say I had to be less fucking predictable?" You snarled, lifting your foot with most of your weight pointed in the direction of his jaw. Surprisingly, the kick landed just not in the place you wanted it to; instead, Miguel’s arm blocked the blow, much to your annoyance.

"I also said—" All he was doing was using dodging moves on you, swiping your other foot from under you as he held the other one that you kicked up in his arm, resulting in you landing once again flat on your ass. "to lose that fucking attitude."

You had not gone down without a fight, twisting and kicking, trying to wrestle your limbs free by any means. Miguel had almost embarrassingly quickly ceased your squirming, his palm cuffing your arms and pressing hard against your chest as his other hand pressed tightly into your thighs, folding your legs in place under his hips.

The position was interesting, to say the least, but you still had some fight in you, wiggling against his grip with any strength you had left to break free. It was a useless battle, but the man had his grip around you tight as well as an overpowering size difference that blanketed your entire figure like one big rock.

And that's how you caught yourself in another web of misfortune. Your nerves are surging at the feeling of something—him brushing against your calf. Maybe it was all the adrenaline pumping through your veins or the fact that you were practically being manhandled so easily that did another thing to your body, or maybe it was just pure horny instability that your brain couldn't even process the lewd whine that tugged from your throat after the fact that it had happened.

Watching in pure horror as Miguel loomed on top of you, his mouth slightly agape as his chest heaved and his brows pulled together, the embarrassment from his confused, almost offended looking expression hit you fast. Here your body was betraying you once more, this time going absolutely haywire and melting like a stupid pile of putty at the fact that you were being body pressed against some mat with some guy's hard junk pressed into your leg.

You couldn't bear to even look him in the eye anymore, your head tilting to the side, pressing your cheek into the mat, and squeezing your eyes closed, not suddenly envying the spidermen with teleportation powers. "Fucking Christ, can you get off now?"

A beat of silence hovered between the small distance between you two, neither moving nor talking. It was starting to become unbearable how tightly Miguel had folded your legs against him, in the sense that you could already feel his body heat radiating. The close proximity did not help with how unbearably your heart was beating against your chest. "How do you manage after all of that to still have that shameless fucking attitude?"

You stilled at how his voice had managed to cut through your own thick cloud of betraying thoughts as well as the ringing in your eardrums. "Shameless? As if you don't have your dick pressed against me right now."

"By the sounds of it, you don't seem that bothered at all." Miguel taunted, You thought you were bound to die of embarrassment.

Yeah, this is how you went out—by dying from the sheer effect of your own extremely horny though—not some overpowered supervillain with a vendetta against you but Miguel O'Hara and his dick print.

You could already hear the new taunts that he would use against you, "Not even in your fucking dreams." being the only comeback that you could muster, your limbs tingling with slight pins and needles, threatening to go stiff under his unbound grasp. 

"Oh, like you wouldn't love to," he sneered, shifting the weight from his hips flat against your thighs. "Probably thinking about me taking off these tight fucking shorts and having my way with you?" Your body reacted first to the accusation, cursing under your breath as you felt your second heartbeat flutter in between your legs.

His lingering stare hadn't helped one bit, and you watched from the sidelines as his eyes raked over your body with interest.

"I bet this was your plan the entire fucking time, huh?" He asked, leaning in as the distance dwindled until you could feel the brush of his breath against your face. "Put on some sweet naive act in front of everyone, knowing that you're getting yourself off on me throwing you around, touching yourself like some bitch in heat."

You hadn't bothered covering the whine that parted from your lips at the feeling of his erection slowly rutting against your thigh, the cocky smirk on his lips wanting you to melt away against the mat.

Miguel practically growled at the pathetic sounds that parted from your lips, tugging your legs apart to rut his hips down against your core. You shivered at the intrusion of his bulge pressed against your eagerness, the foreign feeling of him grinding against you left your thoughts in a dizzy fog.

"What? Can’t fucking speak now," he said as if he were dangling your most prized possession in front of your face, his fingers creeping into dangerous territory, making it a point for his fingertips to drag down your lower torso only to halt right above the elastic waistband of your shorts. "Go on, use your words."

"...fuck you."

The small amount of distance made the space between you two fall tensely thick, and the words spoken from your lips were different from the feelings that made your heart thud against your ribs. You weren't stupid, you knew Miguel could sense it, he could sense just about everything about your body from how close he kneeled on top of you.

Maybe that was why he had closed the distance so quickly after, letting the tight grip around your wrists give way to his hand finding a new objective, wrapping his fingers around your neck, not bothering to be gentle as he guided your lips towards his. The kiss was as rough as you had dreamed it to be. Eager for each other's kiss, you couldn't even process the noise that vibrated sharply from your throat before Miguel could pull away first, leaving you panting for more of his touch.

"First time I've ever seen you so quiet," his deep taunts were starting to grow unbearable, shifting your hips at the brush of his fangs against the jugular of your neck with every word, "who knew all you needed was some dick?" The harsh kisses he left trailing down to your collarbone made you feel like a hot, needy mess of putty. If it weren't for the tight grasp he had on your body, you were convinced that you would feel like you'd melt into some type of puddle. The growing frustration had only started to build up more as Miguel let go of your thighs, his hand trailing between your legs ruthlessly as the bud of his fingers rubbed against your clothed pussy. 

As for why you shifted your hips up and let him impatiently tug and yank at the bow knotted around the waist of your shorts, breaking away from the red splotching light bruises already forming against your brown skin and wiggling you out of your shorts, Miguel thought it was quite the image, his eyes were fixated on the drooling sight of you under him, so vulnerable with your thighs hugging to your chest, spread open, revealing yourself in your pants.

All sanity was thrown out the window the moment he tugged you closer by your knees, your lower half lifted in his arms just enough for him to sit face to face with your cunt. His eyes darkened, his pupils blown as his tongue lapped over his lips, leaving you feeling restless. It was a slow and almost painful battle of trying to reach down and shove his face closer or buck your hips as his fingers sheathed and explored themselves against the fabric of your underwear.

As if Miguel could read your mind, his fingers hooked the fabric under the bend of his finger, followed by a quick tearing sound. "I’ll get you new ones," the comfort emitting a whine from your throat as you couldn't even scowl at him for ruining your underwear because you were too busy admiring the work his fingers were doing. Without warning, Miguel leans in closer, the warmth of his mouth almost sending you into a frenzy as his fingers spread open your lips, his lips sucking at your clitoral area, prompting you to let out a very lewd moan.

"Too loud," Miguel mumbled against your pussy, too busy webbed up in your own pleasure to even notice how every embarrassedly sloppy wet noise had seemed to perfectly echo throughout the empty room. You couldn't even explain the number of emotions that were flowing through you, from shame from being tongue fucked and fingered against the floor about the one man you hated so much to bashfulness from holding eye contact with him as he lay between your legs and ate your pussy like he was starving for you.

"I can't help it," you whined, shivering at the string of spit that contacted Miguel as he lifted his head in an idea. It took a second to process Miguel picking you up and turning you on your stomach, his hands guiding your hips up and stripping your torn panties down your legs to stuff them in your mouth.

Without a word, Miguel grabbed your ass with another hand, guiding your lower back into an arch as the other made small indents from his nail bearing into your cheeks as he spread them apart.

Before you could even feel embarrassed at the new position, he shoved his face between them, your moan being muffled by your makeshift cloth gag that worked a bit too well in lowering your whines as Miguel’s mouth sought his tongue out for your pussy once more.

"You're close I can smell it," you almost missed Miguel's groan over your building ecstasy, "just let it go, baby, let me take care of you. That's what you want, right?" His voice is drastically different from his usual rough, rude tone, softened to something of a coo that has managed to unknot your pleasure with his tongue. Your body tensed against his mouth for a moment as he had the nerve to suck his fingers clean. No grace period was given before he could lift you once more with a grunt, laying you flat on your back.

Slotting himself back between his legs, Miguel chuckled at the dazed look on your face. "It's alright, baby, I can take it from here." taking the balled up drool covered panties from your mouth and instead replaced them with his lips. The sensual change of pace wasn't enough to stop the shiver that rid your nerves of the feeling of his bare cock rutting against your slit, using his thumb to spread your lips apart to sink his tip inside of you with a low hiss against your mouth.

A gasp left yours as his girthy length intruded deeper inside of you, the burying stretch of his dick having your nails roughly grasping at the nape neck of his hair tugging a handful as his pace hadn't bothered to even get familiar already. Miguel’s hips weren't letting out as he fucked you almost animalistic against the floor. You were convinced he was trying to fuck you into the mat, to be one with the floor, which would perfectly explain the rough pace that left you breathless with each piston of his hips. 

The graphically lewd sounds of your weak groans were nothing compared to the pornographic sound of your skin meeting his, your brain empty with nothing but greed, wanting to take everything and more of what Miguel was giving you. His fingers reach to unwrap your fingers tangled in his hair to intertwine them in his. "That's it, mama, that's it," he whispers against the shell of your ear, earning a whimpering reply from you, almost close to spilling the tears clouding your waterline.

Your mind couldn't process anything other than how good Miguel’s dick felt being shoved inside of you, his cock dragging against your tight, flustering walls with each shaky breath brushed against your ear. Your cunt seemed to react to Miguel’s lashes tickling against your neck as his eyes screwed tightly shut, muttering a string of compliments in his mother tongue.

You weren't lucky enough to be more stable, surprised that your throat hasn't gone horse with how ruined your vocal cords sounded in the pace of his pistoning hips. Only going up an octave higher as one of Miguel’s hands reaches down to pay attention to your clit, he doesn't stop even when your limbs start to tremble from your climax. 

With one last hard thrust, he finally stills, your name being the only thing you could make out through his mumbling as his unfamiliar warm sensation welcomed itself inside of you. 

Groaning right in your ear, he cums inside of you with his entire dead weight pressed against you, caging you against the floor. "Alright," Miguel sighs, settling on top of you once more with his arms holding himself just a few inches away from your face. "Again."

🔖 @adonis-is-dead-lmaoo @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @inumakiiz @iheartlinds @creamyarishi @marzipaanz

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[hvseung]

back to campus (l. hs)

pairing: heeseung x female!reader

genre: enemies who fuck, one shot, pwp

warnings: explicit smut, public sex, profanity, passing out, jealous and possessive behaviour, minors DNI!

wc: 5k

.｡.:*:.:**:.☆*.｡.:*:.:*.｡.:*:.:**:.☆*.｡.:*:.:*

Under the dim glow of streetlights, Heeseung glided effortlessly across the smooth pavement, the cool night air nipping at his cheeks. Tonight, the streets were unusually quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of his skateboard and the occasional distant car passing by. As he rounded a corner, his eyes caught sight of someone ahead, completely absorbed in their phone, oblivious to the world around them.

He almost instinctively rolled his eyes as he recognised the figure to be you, caught in the glow of your screen, navigating the deserted pathway with unwavering focus. Heeseung's brow furrowed slightly as he slowed his pace, watching from a distance. Despite the longstanding rivalry that simmered between the two of you, a flicker of concern tugged at him. He knew this hour held its own dangers, especially for a woman walking alone.

Heeseung hesitated, debating whether to call out a warning or simply skate past. The decision loomed as he stood there, contemplating their unexpected intersection in the nocturnal stillness of the streets.

"What the fuck are you doing out here?" He calls, causing you to flinch, quickly turning on your heel to face him. As soon as you meet his gaze, you roll your eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing out here?" You sourly retort back. Heeseung lifts his skateboard into view, signalling his actions for being out so late at night.

"Skating," he said dryly, raising an eyebrow. "What's your excuse?"

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm walking home."

"At this hour?" Heeseung asked, his skepticism clear. "Where were you?"

"Not that it's any of your business" you repeated, turning to walk away. Heeseung kicked off the ground, gliding to keep pace with you.

"You're so stubborn" He mutters, his voice edging with irritation "Why do you have to be so difficult all the time, it's no wonder you cant get along with anyone"

"Because I don't need you to look out for me. Who are you? My dad?" You quicken your pace, hoping he'd take the hint and leave you alone, but he only speeds up, his skateboard clattering against the pavement.

"No, I'm not your damn dad. But I can't just let you walk around outside of campus this late at night. Youre such an idiot." He scolded, keeping up with you effortlessly

"Stop following me. You look like a desperate pervert." Your back was still turned to him, but he quickly swerves infront of you. You to abruptly stop as he blocks your path, towering over you.

He looks down at you with narrowing eyes and his jaw clenches "I'm not going anywhere until I make sure you get back to campus safely, so shut your smart mouth and start walking"

"And im supposed to believe that? What do you really want? Spit it out." You fold your arms, firmly stood in your spot. Heeseung rolled his eyes, annoyed with your stubbornness. He crosses his arms, mirroring your pose and looking down at you with a mix of irritation and... something else in his eyes.

"I'm trying to make sure you're safe, idiot," He said gruffly. "Is that so hard to believe? I may not like you, but I can't just let you walk around out here late at night by yourself."

You meet his gaze, desperate to challenge him, but as the night draws on and sleep begins to catch up with you, you decide against it. "Fine."

Heeseung smirked slightly, enjoying the fact that he had won this little battle of wills. He pushed his skateboard out from under his feet and kicked it up, catching it in his hand. "Finally, you learned how to cooperate," He said, starting to walk beside you. "I can't believe you were going to walk back to the campus by yourself. What were you thinking?"

You both walked side by side in silence for a few moments, the only sound was the quiet rustle of the night air. Heeseung glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his mind working on something. "You know, you never answered my question," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Where were you that you're coming back so late?"

"A friend's." You say dryly, trying to keep communication to a minimum.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow at your vague answer, sensing that there was something more to the story. "A friend's...?" he repeated, his tone skeptical. "What kind of friend? A boyfriend?"

"Wouldn't you like to know..." You smirk, scoffing lowly.

His jaw clenches involuntarily at your smirk. A sudden wave of possessiveness shot through him. The thought of you with someone else, especially a boyfriend, irritated him more than he cared to admit. "Yeah, I would like to know," he said gruffly, trying to keep his cool. "So answer the damn question."

"I was at Sunghoons house. Happy?" You smile sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

Heeseungs eyes widened slightly in surprise at the mention of Sunghoon's name, a pang of jealousy clenching at his chest. "Sunghoon?" he repeated, his voice laced with annoyance. "What the hell were you doing at his place this late at night?"

"You know, for someone who 'hates my guts'," you quote his past words with your fingers "you sure want to know a lot about me, dont you?"

Heeseung's eyes narrowed, his irritation only growing at your sarcastic remark. He clenched his jaw, trying to reign in his emotions, but your sassy attitude was getting under his skin. He let out a frustrated huff. "It's called concern, smartass. I don't need to hate you to want to know that you're safe."

He continued to walk, his steps increasingly aggressive as he tried to tamp down the jealousy that was brewing in his chest. The thought of you with anyone, especially someone like Sunghoon, made him more than just irritated. "So spill, Princess, what were you doing at Sunghoon's place?"

Your head snaps at the nickname, your face contorting into what can only be described as pure disgust "Do not call me that. And its none of your fucking business"

A cruel smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he noticed your reaction to the pet name. He had hit a nerve and he reveled in it. He takes a step closer to you, towering over you. "Oh, what's the matter, Princess? Don't like that nickname, hm?" He taunted, his voice low and mockingly sweet.

You stopped walking, turning to face him. "What is your problem? You're just pissing me off on purpose now."

Heeseung chuckled darkly as you stopped and turned back to him. He takes a step closer, closing the gap between you and him, until he's standing so close that you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes properly. "Oh, Princess, you have no idea. I haven't even started to piss you off yet."

He takes another step, his body now mere inches away from yours. He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. "And trust me, I can do a lot worse than just call you Princess."

"Fuck you." You spit, attempting to walk away again, but Heeseungs hand closes around your wrist like a vice, stopping you from walking away. He yanks you back, his grip tight and unyielding. "Oh no, you're not going anywhere." He spins you around, pinning you against the wall, his body pressing against yours.

"What the fuck?"

"Tell me what you were doing at Sunghoons house" His gaze is firm

"What? Are you jealous?" You smirk at him mockingly.

Heeseungs breath catches in his chest as your mocking smirk digs under his skin, making his frustration flare. "Jealous? Me? Of some idiot like Park Sunghoon?" he scoffs, but his voice lacks its usual confidence. "Don’t flatter yourself."

"Then why do you wanna know? Hm? Your practically itching to know what me and Sunghoonie were up to." You coo with a shit eating smirk playing on your lips.

His jaw clenches at the sound of the pet name you've given Sunghoon, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "I just... just..." His voice trails off, struggling to come up with a reasonable response. He hates the effect you have on him, the way you can disarm him so easily.

"Yeah, thats what I thought," you smirk "Seungie is jealous"

Heeseung grits his teeth, your smugness only fueling his frustration further. "Shut up," he snaps, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not jealous, damnit." His body presses against you, trapping you against a wall. He leans in closer, his face now inches away from yours, his breath hot against your skin. "I just... I just don't want you around another guy. Especially not him."

You groan as my back hits the cold brick wall. "As if you're in any position to want things like that."

Heeseung's fingers dig into your waist as he pins you against the wall, his eyes locking with yours in a challenging stare. "And why not?" He retorts, his voice gruff and annoyed. "Why am I not in a position to want that?"

"Because I cant fucking stand you." You spit.

Heeseungs jaw clenches at your blunt honesty, his grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. "But that doesn't change the fact that you being with Sunghoon- or any other guy- pisses me off." He closes the remaining distance between you, his body fully pressed against yours. His head dips down, his lips hovering just above your ear, his voice a low, hot whisper. "You shouldn't be with him, Princess. You should be with me."

"Heeseung what the fuck are you-"

He cuts you off, his patience running thin. He grips your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Shut up and listen," he snaps, his voice harsh but edged with a hint of something else. "I'm tired of pretending to hate you. I'm tired of pretending that I don't care. Because the truth is, I do care. I care way too much."

"What are you even talking about? Do you hear yourself right now?!" Your in complete disbelief. Where the fuck is this all coming from?

Heeseung groans in frustration, clearly struggling with his own emotions. He releases your chin and steps back, raking a hand through his hair. "I'm talking about the fact that I can't stop thinking about you. The fact that I can't stand the thought of you with someone else, especially Sunghoon. The fact that I'm so damn jealous of anyone who gets your attention. You drive me crazy."

Your brain short circuits, not being able to keep up with his wavering emotions. But also because it cant keep up with your wavering emotions. Your constant up and down battle with yourself as he spills his secrets. "Heeseung-"

"Just... just be honest with me," he says, his hands twitching at his sides, aching to touch you again. He takes a tentative step closer, closing the space between you again, his voice lower now, almost pleading. "Tell me you feel something too. Tell me I'm not crazy for wanting this... for wanting you."

At this point, you cant even deny it. You would be lying if you said you didn't feel the same, and you would be lying even more if you said you hadn't felt this way for months. You don't know what it is about him. You cant stand him, thats not a lie. But he's just so... tempting? If thats even the right word to uss. "You're not... you're not crazy."

As soon as the words leave your lips, his restraint snaps. Heeseung closes the distance between you again, his lips crashing into yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against him, his body pressed tightly against yours.

You cant help but moan against his lips, kissing him back with just as much need and desperation. His grip on you tightens as he feels your moan against his lips, his tongue darting into your mouth. He deepens the kiss, devouring you like a man starved. His hands wander across your body, needing to touch as much of you as possible.

He pushes you back against the wall, his lips never leaving yours. His body presses against you, his body heat and the hard planes of muscles pressed against your chest. One of his hands tangles in your hair, holding your head in place as he kisses you with a possessiveness that surprises even him. He pulls away for a brief moment, panting as he looks at you, his eyes dark and filled with an intense desire.

"You're mine," he says, his voice rough and possessive. "You hear me? Mine. I won't let anyone else touch you." He captures your lips again, his kiss bruising and demanding. He pushes one of his legs between your thighs, pressing his body even tighter against yours, wanting to feel every inch of you.

You gasp at the sudden contact against your sensitive core. "Heeseung-"

He growls at the sound of his name on your lips, the desire only growing stronger. He breaks the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive skin. His hands slide down your body, gripping your hips possessively as he nips and sucks at your neck. He grinds his leg against your pussy, a shudder going through his body as he feels how needy you are for him.

You tip your head back, softly moaning, completely oblivious to the fact that you're still in public. Heeseung notices you tipping your head back, the sound of your moan shooting straight to his groin, making his mind go fuzzy. He nips at your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin, leaving small, red marks in their wake. "God, the sounds you make..." he growls, his voice rough and strained, "You're driving me crazy, Princess."

Your lips silently part as his knee brushes against your clit, making your hips stutter. Heeseung can't help but smirk, his dominant nature taking over. He grabs your hip with one hand, pressing you back against the wall, his body fully pinning you to the spot. His other hand slides up to your hair, gripping it and tilting your head back.

"You like that?" he growls, his words punctuated by another grind of his knee against your sensitive skin. He leans down, his lips just millimeters from your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You're so fucking eager, aren't you? So desperate for my touch."

You nod eagerly, practically whimpering as you reach down to grip the lining of his shirt to keep yourself grounded. The sound of a passing car pulls you out of your haze, finally remembering your surroundings and just how public this was.

He chuckles at your eagerness, the sight of you whimpering and grasping at his shirt only adding fuel to the fire. But then he too is pulled out of the moment as the sound of a passing car hits his ears.

He hesitates for a second, knowing they should stop and find a more private place, but the sight of you, flushed and wanting, makes it increasingly difficult to pull away. Heeseung grabs your elbow firmly and drags you around the corner into a dimly lit alleyway. The alley was barely visible from the street, ensuring them some much-needed privacy. It wasn't common that people would come down this alley way as it serves practically no purpose, but in the rare case that it were to happen, we were pretty much unnoticeable in the shadows.

His body presses yours against a cool brick wall, taking a moment to look at you, his eyes running over your flushed face, your heaving chest, your parted lips. His hands grip your hips tightly, lifting you up off the ground, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist to keep your balance.

Unlike you, Heeseung was thanking the gods that you wore a skirt today, making it so much easier to grind his growing buldge against your clothed pussy, the friction causing his eyes to shut tightly as he lets out a low, guttural moan. He leans down, his lips moving to your neck, his teeth nipping and sucking at the skin, determined to leave his mark on you.

You let out a small whimper, wrapping your arms around his shoulder to keep your balance as you roll your hips against his. Thats when he decides, he needs to taste you.

Heeseungs eyes lock with yours, a feral glint in them, as he puts you down. He sinks to his knees in front of you, his hands sliding up your thighs and shoving your skirt over hour ass as they go.

His teeth nip at the inside of your thighs, causing you to whine his name, pushing his hair back to make eye contact with him. He grins against your skin at the sound of his name on your lips, the feeling going straight to his already aching groin. His tongue traces a line up your inner thigh, his hands gripping your hips to keep you from moving away. He takes his sweet time, his tongue and teeth trailing over every inch of skin, determined to taste and touch as much of you as possible. He hums against your skin, the vibration sending shivers through your body.

"Heeseung- please." You whine, your lips jutting out into a small pout. He looks up, noticing the growing wet patch in the center of your panties. He licks his lips, hooking his fingers under your waistband of your underwear before pulling them down, revealing your glistening pussy.

"Fuck baby. Is this all for me?" He groans, his eyes practically devouring you. He leans forward, his lips ghosting over your core, watching as globs of wetness pour out. He moves even closer, his hot breath mixing with the cold air, the contrast making your skin prick with goosebumps.

He lifts a singular finger, rubbing it between your folds and collecting your wetness, before bringing it to his mouth and sucking it clean, moaning at the taste of you against. He grips at one of your thighs, hoisting it over his shoulder before pulling you down to sit on his face, his tongue darting out to part your folds.

He wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you in place as his tongue starts to explore, licking and tasting as much as he can. His hands grip your thighs, his grip tight and almost possessive, as if he's afraid you'll slip away from him. You whine loudly, balling his hair between your fists.

"Fuck." You whine, tipping your head back as he sucks and licks at your pussy. He grins against you as he hears your curse, the sound massively swelling his ego. He doubles his efforts, his tongue working quicker and harder as it flicks in and out of your aching hole, his nose brushing against your clit, trying to take you apart with just his mouth.

You cry out loudly, your fingers ripping at his scalp. He hisses, the sound transforming into a deep moan as the pain only serves to fuel the fire burning inside him. He feels you clench around his tongue, the sensation nearly driving him over the edge. He can tell you're close, the way your hips are rolling against his mouth, spreading your wetness around his chin.

He harshly sucks at your clit and then pulls away just before you're able to reach your peak, a wicked grin on his face. "You didn't really think I was going to let you cum that easily, did you?" He laughs dryly.

"No no- please Heeseung. I was so close." You whine loudly, feeling your release painfully slipping away from you.

He stands up, grinning down at you, amused by the desperate tone in your voice. He leans down, his lips just centimeters from your ear, his breath hot against your skin "Oh, sweetheart, I know you were close. That's why I stopped."

"You're a fucking asshole." You spit breathlessly. "Just can't help yourself, can you?"

He smirks, knowing you have absolutely no idea whats coming. He leans closer, his voice low and rough. "You have no idea, princess. I haven't even started yet."

He pulls you further into the alley, bending you over a nearby car. He pushes your chest against the bonnet, pulling your hips back to press against his very obvious boner. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel his clothed dick prodding against your core.

"You have no fucking idea how bad I want you right now." He groans, rolling himself against you. "Now be a good girl and stay still. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes." You say meekly, nodding eagerly.

"Yes who?" He spits

"Yes sir." You whine, rubbing yourself against his bulge, desperate for any sort of friction.

He grins at the sound of your submission, his grip on your hip tightening just a little bit as he hums in approval. "Good girl."

He grins at the sight of you obediently waiting, his hands moving to his pants, unbuckling the belt and slowly pulling the zipper down. He makes sure to take his time, wanting to draw out the teasing. His eyes never leave your face, wanting to see every reaction he can, every flutter of your eyelashes, every bite of your lip, every quickened breath.

You were aching at this point, throbbing as the cold air hits your bare core. "Please Heeseung." You whine, desperate to feel him.

You hear as his belt drops to the floor behind you, then his jeans. You bite your lip in anticipation. He reaches around, placing his hand infront of your mouth. "Spit."

You follow his command immediately, shooting a glob of spit into his palm. He takes his hand, rubbing up and down his sensitive shaft to lube himself up. You gasp as he feel his tip prodding against you, smearing precum all over my folds. He was teasing you, and he was fucking enjoying it.

"Just fucking do it already." You snap, your patience wearing thin.

"Eager, are we?" He chuckles before pushing into me, bottoming out completely. Your breath catches in my chest as he knocks the wind out of you.

"Holy fuck-" You cry out, his length and girth practically tearing you in half. He smirks at your reaction, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. He leans down, his lips trailing hot kisses up your neck, his voice low and rough in your ear

"Yeah, feel good doesn't it baby?" He growls against the shell of your ear, nibbling at your lobe. He grinds his hips slowly against yours, his eyes fluttering close. "Fuck your so tight baby." You can tell he's being slow on purpose. Hes teasing you, and the shit eating smirk on his face just confirms it. But you're getting impatient now.

"Stop teasing me and fuck me like you mean it." You snap, pushing your hips back to meet his.

"You want me to stop teasing baby? Because once I start, I'm not stopping." His voice is stern, almost like a warning for whats about to come.

"Yes!"

He finally caves, unable to resist any longer. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he slams his hips against yours, giving you no time to adjust. The friction of his veiny length rubbing against your walls sends waves of pleasure through both of your bodies. He groans loudly, the sound deep and primal, as he finally gives in to the need that's been building inside him all night.

You cry out, reaching for anything to grip onto the keep your knees from buckling underneath you. He reaches forwards, gripping your arms and pulling them behind you.

"Is this what you wanted, Princess?" He whispers, his lips moving to your neck, as he grinds against you with an almost desperate need. "To be fucked like the desperate slut you are?"

"Yes! Don't stop!" At this point, you've got absolutely no shame. You're a fucking mess as he slams his hips against you over and over and over, hitting the deepest spots inside you.

He lets out a deep, guttural moan at your words, the sound making his chest rumble against your back, a physical expression of the need that was coursing through his veins. “You’re so beautiful when you’re a mess, princess. So desperate for me aren't you? Such a fucking whore for this dick."

He reaches down, wrapping his bicep around your throat, pulling your back to rest against his chest. "Say it. Say your a whore for this dick baby."

"Yes! Im a whore for your dick Seung!" You cry out, the pressure around your throat mixed with the pleasure from the new angle making your head spin.

He grins at your reaction, the feeling of you submitting to him, completely at his mercy, fuelling the fire that’s burning inside of him. He tightens his grip around your throat, wanting to see how far he can push you. "Thats right baby, thats fucking right."

You gasp for air as he applies more pressure against your throat, the feeling making you lightheaded. He angles his hips differently, hitting that soft, spongy spot deep inside you, making your stomach tighten. You practically shriek, your toes curling in your shoes as his tip kisses against the pleasure point with every hard thrust. "Seung, I'm so close."

He tightens his bicep even more, his eyes never leaving your face, watching as you struggle against him, completely at his mercy. There’s a primal satisfaction in seeing you like this, completely and utterly his in this moment. "You gonna cum for me baby?"

You cant manage out any words due to the painful pressure on your throat. The painful pressure that feels so fucking good. You can feel yourself getting dizzy, the lack of oxygen and the pleasure just too overwhelming for your body to handle.

"Look at you. Your a complete mess. God, you look so good." Your walls clench tightly around him as you teeter on the edge of release.

"Oh fuck baby." He groans as he twitches inside you, signalling that he was just as close to cumming as you were. "Not yet, Princess. Not until I say so."

You squeak at his words, knowing you physically couldn't hold back any longer, but you were unable to verbalise that to him. Your nails stratch as his bicep, begging him to let you cum as your eyes brim with tears.

"You're so desperate, you can't even form words, can you, Princess?" He mocks, watching as you struggle for air, your body clenching against his, as you desperately try to hold yourself back. "Don't you dare cum yet. You'll cum when I say you can. You understand?"

He continues to relentlessly pound into me, sweat beading down his forehead and landing against your cheek. Your jaw hangs slack as your vision begins to go blurry. Heeseung can feel your struggles growing weaker, watching as your eyes go slightly unfocused. "Cum for me baby."

As soon as he gives you permission, the tightening knot in your stomach immediately snaps. You cry out loudly, clenching around him. He feels you tighten around him, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through his body. He moans, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head, his grip on your throat momentarily tightening as he feels his release hit down on him like a ton of bricks.

"Fuck!" He cries out, shooting his hot cum inside of you with a loud grunt. But it's all just too much for you, the grip around your throat and the pleasure completely taking over you, and now the feeling of his cum completely filling you to the brim.

Heeseung feels as your body goes limp in his arms and your head rolls forward, my cheek resting against his thick muscle. Realising you had momentarily passed out, catches you, taking the pressure off of your throat and wrapping his other arm around your waist to keep you upright against him. He gently cups your chin in his hand, tilting your head back against his shoulder so he can look at you, satisfied as he sees the blissful expression on your face.

He leans down, his lips gently resting against your temple, feeling your heart beat fast and erratic, a clear sign of what he’d just put you through. He holds your body against his, his grip protective and his voice gentle as he whispers into your ear. “I’ve got you.”

It takes you a minute to catch your breath, regaining the strength to stand on your own. You turn around, sitting down to rest against the car bonnet as you pant heavily. You can feel his release slipping out of you, pooling in-between your thighs.

Heeseung watches as you pant and gasp for air, his eyes raking over your body, taking in every detail, every bite and every mark that littered my soft skin. He can’t help but smirk at the sight, knowing he’d done that to you. He cups your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. "So beautiful.”

You hum in response, nuzzling against his touch. He chuckles, his hand moving to gently brush your hair away from your face, a stark contrast to the aggressive nature that was coursing through him just a few minutes ago. His eyes take in your wrecked appearance. He can still see the flush on your skin, your eyes glassy and hazy, and he feels a possessiveness stirring within him at the sight. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." You smile up at him

"Are you sure? I've never had a girl pass out on me like that before." He chuckles awkwardly, pulling his jeans back up.

"Really, I'm good. That was... fucking amazing." You reassure him, reaching for your discarded panties.

"I'm glad." He offers you his hand, watching as your knees turn inwards a little as you stand.

"Anyway, should we get you back to campus?"

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@ hvseung, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway. thankyou :)

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first post, kinda nervy

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Jace teaching his wife how to fight. Maybe he gets a bit too rough or talks bad to you but apologize

This one made me want to pull my hair so many times, so please don't be too hard on the sword-using moments. Why did I do this to myself?

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’I don’t want to sit back and do nothing, I want to be at the frontlines and fight for our Queen. If Baela and Rhaena can do it, I can too,’’ you told Jacaerys as you were watching him take off his sword and belt, done with his day. ‘’The Queen said herself that I’m one of the greatest dragon riders. Another dragon could be helpful. I want to fight beside you.’’ 

‘’Are you sure?’’ Jacaerys shifted his gaze to you, sitting on your bed. ‘’I’m not saying that because I don’t want you to fight. I would be proud to have you fight beside me. I just want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into.’’ He removed his cape and unbuckled his jacket, sore underneath from his training. 

You were aware of the dangers of battle, but you were tired of feeling useless. You didn't want to be known as the wife of the Queen’s heir, the one who stayed behind and watched. You wanted to be remembered as a woman who fought and won battles, and helped win the war.

‘’This is what I want, Jace.’’ 

Rhaenyra was on board with you fighting for her claim. On one condition: that you learned how to use a weapon. You couldn’t go into battle with only your dragon to defend yourself and no combat abilities. Being a good dragon rider was great, but you needed to be able to hold a sword…or even a crossbow. 

It was usually Daemon who was in charge of training, but he was away looking for dragonseeds, so Jacaerys volunteered. The latter was supposed to join Daemon on his quest, and bailed at the last minute and sent Baela in replacement. 

You and Jacaerys worked hours together on your sword fighting. He was gentle in his teaching of the basics, but didn't go too easy on you. In the heat of battle, your opponents won’t spare you. It’s a thing Ser Harwin told him when he was little. 

‘’You don't want to leave your upper body open to attacks. You want to keep your arms closer to your body,” he advised, his voice gentle yet firm. ‘’You want to relax your shoulders too. You’ll get hurt if you’re too stiff.’’ 

Jacaerys poked you in the side and a startled giggle escaped you at the unexpected poke, but you quickly regained your focus, nodding earnestly. 

‘’Got it.’’ 

You tried to relax, taking a deep breath. Holding a sword was not easy. It required a lot of control and precision. 

Jacaerys continued drilling the basics with you, very patiently explaining things. And showing you again when you asked. 

‘’Today we’ll work on disarming your opponent,’’ he announced, spinning his sword with ease. ‘’It sounds difficult, but this is one of the first moves that I learned.’’ 

You nodded, and watched intently, trying to absorb every detail as Jacaerys was demonstrating the technique. 

Then, it was your turn to try and disarm him. You stepped forward, your movements light and steady, determined to match his skill although he had years of practice. But no matter how hard you tried, Jacaerys seemed to anticipate your every move, effortlessly blocking each attempt.

‘’Disarming your opponent is not necessary in a battle,’’ Jacaerys explained over the clanging of swords, feeling your frustration. ‘’It’s mostly used during tourney duels, but if you’re ever cornered in a one on one, it can buy you some time.’’ 

The force of his last swing sent you flat on your ass. ‘’It’s looking like I won’t be buying myself much time…’’ you sighed, looking down at the sand on your clothes in disappointment.  

‘’Don’t think like that,’’ Jacaerys said, regretting going too hard on you. ‘’My fault entirely. I’m sorry. I just…I want you to be safe and ready when you’re out there. Alone.’’ The thought of you being cornered and unable to defend yourself haunted him. ‘’I’ll go easier,’’ he promised as he reached out for your hand, helping you up. 

With renewed determination, you made another attempt, and to your astonishment, you succeeded. Jacaerys's weapon clattered a few paces away, rendering both of you momentarily speechless.

He congratulated you and picked his sword back up. ‘’I knew you could do it, my love.’’ 

‘’Do I get a reward?’’ you asked, tipping your chin up. 

Jacaerys pursed his lips, thinking, then leaned down for a kiss — or what you thought was a kiss. Before your lips could touch, he seized the opportunity to disarm you effortlessly in a swift motion. Your sword slipped from your grasp, leaving you momentarily stunned. 

Pulling back, Jacaerys flashed a playful glint in his eyes as he aimed his sword at you. ‘’First rule of battle strategy, don't ever let your opponent distract you.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron   @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes@thirsty4nonlivingmen@naty-1001@katiepie67@moshpot24x@hc-geralt-23@lovelynerdytraveler@saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10@tabloidteen@timetoten@deekaag@wondxrgurl@aerangi@strmborns@astridyoo15@daemonslittlebitch@queenbeestuffs@severewobblerlightdragon@agentstarkid@msliz@vane1999-blog@fairyfolkloresposts@todaywasafairytale07@otomaniac@zgzgzh@thebeardedmoon@golden-library@kikyrizuki@hnslchw@camy85@winxschester @armstrongscommentsection

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

never not mine, m | jjk | "... in your eyes."

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

You'll find that you were never not mine. Wandering sometimes leads to finding. Finding sometimes leads to the truth. The truth sometimes leads to pinning someone to the wall and kissing them. But only if it feels right.

part i | part ii | this is part iii

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; sloooow burn; exes-to-lovers / second chance romance; angst and fluff and feels; your POV; smut (nipple play, scratching / marking, handjob, cum-eating / feeding, fingering, penetrative sex - missionary, doggy)

non-idol!AU; fashion model!Jungkook — ft fellow model/actor!Kim Taehyung and model/businessman!Kim Seokjin; reader is not part of the entertainment industry

--

“What is the most important lesson in your life you’ve learned so far?”

The most important lesson I’ve learned, huh… I think I would say that even though this world is difficult, tough, downright unbearable at times, it is okay to be comforted by the small things. I think a lot of people ignore those small things when they’re upset since they seem frivolous or out-of-touch to appreciate when you are having a hard time. But those are the most important times to enjoy them. We should not feel guilty about a small happiness. A taste of a favorite sweet. The sunset sky when you look up. Laughing with a friend even though everything around you feels dark. These moments will become the stars that will light up your universe in this black world.

For such a friendly, unassuming young man in a suit, he had been such a poet.

At first, you wondered if this was something you could apply on to your life. You had asked, it works in reverse too, doesn’t it?

He had tilted his head, inquisitive. What do you mean?

Small, painful things can slowly but surely break a reverie too, if you don’t take notice of them.

Ah. You’re right.

Each conversation had been insightful in its own way. The woman in the white dress. The most important lesson I’ve learned is loyalty. You might not make as much money or be as famous as you would if you turned your back on someone, but money and fame are fleeting. If you nurture those around you well, you will live a fulfilled life. The man with the silvery-blonde hair and white dress shirt. What an odd question. For me… to be proud of doing what I want to do, even if I may not measure up to the success of others. When I was younger, I thought it was more important to reach a massive audience, to have many people see my color. But now... I don’t think that’s what I want. I want to be an important part of someone’s life, short-term or long-term. I want my time to count to those who count. The woman in a tight denim number and lots of colorful bracelets. It’s important to be yourself. No one walks the same path. You might be too much for some but you might be just right for others, and those people will end up understand you best. The last one, a man with a bright smile and black dress shirt that seemed to barely contain his energy. An important lesson, huh? I guess I would say, go for it. Sometimes I’m uneasy or not confident in a new situation, and I have to remember to just go for it. Yeah, I think I’ve learned a lot from just doing rather than thinking too long about it. The only thing holding me back was being scared. But, being scared doesn’t mean you can’t take action. It means you can, because you have the strength to acknowledge your fear.

Yes, well.

Going for it sort of ended in smashing over a million won worth of liquor into the ground.

You couldn’t blame the advice though. Honestly, you were glad for it. You were glad for each and every connection you made tonight with those strangers. You weren’t sure if Kim Seokjin had set it all up or if each one had approached from their own curiosity. A mixture of both, maybe. Before, they had all been only pretty faces. A shallow judgement for each individual’s hopes, dreams, and realities. You were sure that was Seokjin’s plan – for you to see for yourself what kind of world you were in.

Maybe not so vapid after all.

A little silly, perhaps.

“Hmph, well, at least I can thank you for not letting me walk into a porn scene.”

You winced as Kim Seokjin folded his arms. You both had stopped at the end of the hallway with Seokjin waving the guards away to speak to you directly. Your feet were mildly hurting from standing up for so long. It could have also been due to the emotionally draining past hour.

“I had no intentions of that,” you protested.

Those perfect brows furrowed in disbelief. “Uh huh.”

You made a face. “Nothing was happening back there.”

“Uh huh,” Seokjin tittered again.

You couldn’t keep looking up at him anymore. He held a hand up as you shifted your eyes to the wall, crossing your arms too. Mostly to keep warm. And to hide a bit.

“Nu uh, I don’t want to know what dirty things you two were talking about.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “It’s not like that–”

Seokjin cut you off abruptly. “Did it help?” he inquired pointedly. “Did smashing one of my most expensive bottles of alcohol provide the catharsis you were looking for?”

You felt your cheeks heat. “S-Sorry, I’ll pay for it–”

“Hmph!” He sounded and looked offended. “I don’t need money. I have plenty of that. What I don’t have plenty of is somewhat sane people in my life. I watched you destroy public property and slap one of my security guys as if it was a normal Friday night for you.”

You cowered a bit. “Ah… I’ll apologize to him too.”

Seokjin sighed. He was a refined man with a hint of childishness that gave him eternal youth.

“I was glad to see it.”

He laughed slightly, shaking his head. You stared at him.

“I was nearly afraid that dating Jeon Jungkook had broken you.”

Wait.

“Broken me?”

His large shoulders slumped a little. “Ah, it was… It was so obvious. With Jungkook, too. It was as if the light had been sucked out of him. And you. There was a coldness about you that formed. I worried if you could hear all the whispers behind hands. Hoped Jungkook-ah had shielded you from them or, I don’t know, made you impervious somehow. But you could feel it too, couldn’t you? The ostracization. And he had contributed to it, in time.”

He had noticed.

That was enough to touch your heart.

You faltered. “It’s none of your fault. Or his circle of friends.”

Seokjin waved his hand. “Of course not. But it was still there. Hearing mindless droning all day is still a minor annoyance that builds up to a hornet’s nest over time. And I – no, we – spoke up too late.” He lowered his arms, defeated. “There isn’t much I can do, I know. But I wanted you to know that not everyone among us feels that way. Not everyone has their head in the clouds. Not just my circle of friends, but lots of people in this industry are good people with good intentions who are much better at comforting words than I am.”

You felt a surge of gratitude. Maybe for the first time tonight, you felt like crying. You lifted your head to soft, black brown eyes that were the windows to a big heart.

“Thank you.”

He seemed taken aback. “Ah… Right. Yes, you’re welcome,” he mumbled awkwardly.

You bowed to him.

“S-Stop that!” He smacked your shoulder with a mix of panic and defiance. “Don’t be ridiculous. And, anyway, I didn’t even succeed! You still ended up in an altercation with that big-nosed dongsaeng of mine. Hah…”

You laughed a little. “Ah, I’m sorry about that too. It was my fault he was so riled up.”

Seokjin gave you a contemptuous look that would put even the most disapproving aunt to shame. “No, really?”

You tried not to laugh. He was making it very difficult. It was probably the designer suit and corporately-parted hair mixed with his cartoonish reaction. “Please don’t be too hard on him.”

He made a disgruntled face as if he had to deal with an obnoxious puppy. “You should be worried about me. I’m sure he’s back there stomping his feet and being a stubborn little shit. Hah, well. I’ll have security escort you to your car waiting outside. Don’t slap anybody.”

You pouted. His youthfulness was infectious. “Aish, I won’t. I know my limits.”

“If only your other half did.” Seokjin threw up his hands in exasperation. “Go before I change my mind.”

He wouldn’t.

You backed off anyway, letting Seokjin saunter off, and was greeted halfway to the door by a kind security guard who didn’t ask if you were going to slap him. He did seem amused though. He was professional enough to keep it to himself, leading you to a side entrance where a black car was waiting to take you home after a very long and enlightening night.

-

Night felt different now.

Days felt different too, but the change wasn’t as obvious due to the hours consumed by work. There was plenty of distraction during the day, although you became strangely aware to how the world seemed different. How the sunlight seemed brighter. How there seemed to be a rhythm to the birds’ wings as they flapped away. How you occasionally caught yourself scanning the faces on streets, looking for something.

Someone.

But the sunset is when you noticed the shadows dancing around you. As the day died, you watched people slip from their responsibilities to their desires. A warm meal. A visit to the store to pick up a visual treat or a world within pages. A chance to see a familiar face, ending in a hug or, if lucky, a kiss. Stories within bodies.

You, too.

You found yourself at the movie theater again. You spent a moment, scanning the titles, picking an action movie you had never heard of. Even splurged for the popcorn, shaking it up in the bag with the salty, garlicky powder getting on your fingertips. You spotted a few clusters of friends. Couples. But also a few single individuals that were busy getting comfortable in their seats, placing their belongings just so, as if they did this all the time.

So, you too, sat down and placed your black bow purse beside you, adjusting your popcorn bag to the perfect snacking distance. It was exciting as the lights dimmed to black, enjoying the music score in surround sound, sucked into another world of imaginary action that you could safely enjoy despite all the bullets.

With popcorn, of course.

It felt different now.

It was only after you made your way home that you realized why.

And you smiled.

Another night, you decided to stop by the mall. Not to buy anything really, but to listen to the music at each of the stores. In this day and age of everything online, it was rare for you to make the effort. It was different now though, somehow. Honestly, not so bad. You purchased an overpriced drink and pretended to look at all the clothes as you listened to what was popular right now. Occasionally, you heard something interesting and pulled out your phone to search for the title of the song vis one of the lyrics, the usual way you used to do it. There were definitely apps for identifying songs instantly now, you thought, but there was something hands on and extra satisfying of replicating an old process.

You found yourself in front of a wall of skirts.

You looked up at the colors, the patterns, and saw nothing of what was currently in your wardrobe.

At work, you were required to dress semi-professionally. A lot of single-color blouses, long black skirts, simple silhouette dresses. A cardigan was your idea of spicing it up. In fact, today you were in a maroon button-up blouse with a high neck and billowy sleeves, and your signature long black skirt. Black heels with a cross strap detail, nothing special. Before, while you were dating Jungkook, you had borrowed a lot of clothes, as they had been required for specific events. Transactions. Nothing you personally owned, nor needed to. Even the small, tight dresses that you had purchased for dates you didn’t own anymore. You had donated them all. They had been purchased with the intent to look like a model’s girlfriend. Not to look like, well.

Yourself.

A pink gingham miniskirt with small red strawberries stitched onto it caught your eye.

You left the store with a brown bag with a few parcels wrapped in pink tissue paper and a lighter bank account. Did you know where you were going to wear these clothes? Nope. It was different, buying without a purpose, and yet.

It was an excuse to find an occasion.

You settled on a bench with a smile.

You held your drink and lifted your head, watching people walk past. Seeing glimpses of their stories through the windows of shops. A surprised face at seeing something they wanted. A look of bliss once they took a sniff of a scented candle. A wringing of hands in front of a gift shop, running out of time and paralyzed by decision. You took a sip, wondering if they would be successful. Your thoughts wandered, as they always did. I have someone. Individual realities parallel to yours, with the occasional interaction a demonstration of interaction. Moments that required moving against the natural course for a purpose. Sometimes a brief purpose, and sometimes entangled because they wanted to be.

The question was, did you want to be?

You had become aware of how your line had been. Dulled by distraction, lacking intersections, moving the lonely course without remorse. All the small things becoming a blur of monotony. The roses had become colorless from the coldness that you had inadvertently held onto.

Bit by bit, you were finding color once more.

You stood up with your empty cup, hurrying to find the appropriate trash can to dispose it in.

“Hey, excuse me!”

You started.

A mother with her arm around a small child’s shoulders waved at you. “Your shopping.”

“Oh, sh–sorry!”

You went back, bowing repeatedly as you picked up the brown bag, startled that you had forgotten your quite expensive purchases. The child shook their head at you. You sheepishly laughed, letting yourself be scolded by the kid. “An adult shouldn’t be so careless!” Well, that was a bit harsh, but you thanked them anyway, waving as you parted.

You turned around, returning to your escape route.

Careless, huh?

Maybe the kid was right.

Someone in black was walking down the path. A man. He was walking fast. An oversized grey beanie with dark hair poking out. Body drowning in a slashed black hoodie and ripped jeans. Black boots. Black face mask. It was a bit odd because he was wearing sunglasses inside. Still, there was no reason for you to look twice. He looked up.

Somehow you knew your eyes had met.

You slowed down.

Jeon Jungkook slowed down, reaching up to remove his glasses.

Would your eyes have met if you hadn’t had to double back to retrieve your shopping bag?

If you weren’t careless?

You saw him catch his breath as soon as he knew it was you. You weren’t sure how he knew. Then again, how did you know? This entire adventure had been on a whim. He stopped at a reasonable distance from you, and half-lowered his face mask, as if to greet you. But neither of you could utter a word. You held your small black purse that you haven’t changed in several years. It was a simple design with the designer embossed in very small font above a leather bow sewed flush to the front. Unremarkable, really, unless you knew.

And he knew, because Jungkook had brought it for you.

The first gift at the very beginning. He looked from the bag to you. Wondering if he should comment on it. He hesitated, and you understood why. Two parallel lines. No interaction would occur unless one moved against the natural course and doing so would be, well.

Careless.

“I hope,” you started, cautiously. Something flickered in those big brown orbs. “I hope Kim Seokjin didn’t scold you too much.”

He lowered his head a bit, half-laughing and half-scowling. “I did get a scolding for causing a commotion.”

“It was my fault,” you acknowledged once again.

He shook his head. “No, it was mine.”

You half-smiled. “Wanna fight about it?”

Jungkook raised his head, still holding onto the bottom of his face mask. You could see the mirth in his stance. It was almost as if there wasn’t a weighing limbo trapped between you and him.

“Actually, yeah.”

Almost immediately, you saw him falter, as if he knew he shouldn’t say something like that. You felt a sting witnessing it. He opened his mouth, and you almost heard it, his casual, just kidding, and this wasn’t like him at all.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

You interrupted him before he could add, just kidding. He stiffened, exposing hints of the printed white t-shirt under the tears of his hoodie. You were both occupying space on the walkway. People needed to walk around, some unbothered, some slighted by the inconvenience. His name on your tongue felt foreign and familiar at the same time. An end and a beginning all at once.

I have someone.

So did you.

You smiled.

“It’s really good to see you out and about.”

His eyes widened. You hoped he could tell that you meant it. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat a bit, trying to eliminate the sudden croak. “Yeah. You too. I’m…” His eyes shifted a bit. He was always focused on you, regardless. “I’m glad I ran into you today.”

And maybe that was it.

You were okay with that, though. That might have previously been a lie, but not now. It was probably unnecessary to say. Perhaps you had spoken up for some sort of closure, for both you and him. A chapter ended in some way.

He rubbed the back of his neck, ticking his head to the brown bag by your side. “You came to shop today?”

You held it up halfway with a chuckle. “Ah, well… It wasn’t the plan. Ended up that way.” You noticed the way he intently observed your actions. Couldn’t avoid it, really. You lowered the bag, not hiding even though it was maybe the better thing to do. “What about you?”

He paused. Had he forgotten already? You watched him gain his bearings with bemused patience.

“Ah, I…”

Jungkook looked and sounded embarrassed.

“What the hell,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Actually, I cancelled a shoot last minute.”

Your head tilted. “I’m surprised. That’s not like you.”

His pink lips upturned. You could spot that tiny mole underneath them, right at the center. “Yeah…” He trailed off, unable to meet your gaze. Ashamed, almost.

“It’s okay, though,” you offered. You hated to see that expression on his face. “You did what you felt was right. These things happen.”

He scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t cancelled a shoot since…” He stopped.

You waited.

Jungkook glanced at you. You saw a pink twinge dust across his cheekbones.

“Since I first asked you out.”

You blinked at him. “What are you talking about?” You frowned. “I don’t remember anything like that.”

He winced and looked up at the ceiling, rocking on his heels a bit. “Actually, I… I lied. I pretended I wasn’t getting any bookings. Just to spend time with you in the beginning. But, uh, then I felt guilty. I wasn’t the man I thought I needed to be. The man you deserved.” He sighed, yanking one of his hands out to scratch his eyebrow absentmindedly. “But maybe I never was, because then I got swept up in all that bullshit.”

Jungkook looked down.

“I know it’s too late to say such things now.”

He seemed to collapse a little bit despite his tall frame.

“Now, it’s…” He sighed. “I can’t concentrate at all. I keep asking myself what I’m doing. For a while there I kept working in hopes that you would…” He grimaced again, but chose to ramble on anyway. “So you would still see me everywhere. Stupid, huh? And now it’s just…” He shook his head. “I think I should give up.”

You didn’t know what to say.

He took a deep breath and straightened. “Ah, my bad. I went on for nothing.” Bowing slightly, backing away. “I have a lot on my mind. I didn’t expect to run into you and now I’ve run my mouth like a madman.”

“Jungkook.”

His name came out of your mouth before you registered it. He stopped moving, looking back at you, halfway between pulling up his face mask. You struggled to find the words, clutching your unexpected purchases and your racing heart, his first present to you against your ribs.

“Don’t give up.”

You made sure not to break eye contact.

“It’s not like you to give up, you know. It’s my… my favorite thing about you.”

He seemed stunned.

“R… Really?”

You couldn’t help but smile. Nervously albeit fiercely determined.

“One of many.” You relaxed a bit, relieved that you were able to say so. You laughed a little at the absurdity of it all. “Although perhaps we need to stop doing these kinds of things in public.”

Jungkook jumped, seemingly realizing all the people around too. “Ah… Whoops.”

You bowed as you spoke. “Then, I’ll…”

The way he said your name, so soft and dreamlike, made you freeze mid-movement. He seemed flustered, stepping a little closer to you. It was the correct moment to pull back, replace some respective distance between you and him to keep a measure of strangers, and yet.

You let your eyes meet his under wisps of black hair sticking out of his beanie.

“Can we spend a little more time together? If it’s not too much trouble?”

It was. You had work tomorrow. You needed to get home and put away your things. Wash up. Do your nightly routine to unwind. Get back to being a responsible adult with responsibilities living a responsible life.

Your lips curved into a mischievous smile.

“Sure.”

-

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere.”

You were standing by his motorbike now. His pride and joy, yet you knew it was rarely used in his day-to-day life. For the best, probably, considering the risk. You weren’t surprised to see it today though. He always rode when he felt frustrated or out of it. The walk here had been silent, which you had expected. Jungkook was the king of speaking without a plan. You didn’t mind it, though. It reminded you of good times.

He awkwardly shuffled, obviously realizing that himself now.

“Hey.”

“Uh?” he answered distractedly.

“Why did you ask me out back then?”

He fumbled with his hands a bit. “Ah, that’s…”

You tilted your head, patiently waiting.

“I…” He stuttered a bit. Cleared his throat again. “I just couldn’t help but look twice. I thought you were hot as hell.”

You almost snorted. “Don’t you encounter enough of that at work?” you chuckled.

He shook his head. “No, it’s more like… Um, even if they’re attractive, everyone knows it is pretty for a purpose. They’re all taking care of themselves. Looks are the selling point, after all.” He poked at his own chest. “Me too.” He raised his head to you. “But you’re different. You don’t have to think about how you look will reflect in a paycheck. You take care of yourself for yourself.”

You thought about it. It didn’t seem that extraordinary. “Well, anybody can do that.”

He smirked.

“If anybody could do it, why could I only see you?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. You raised a hand to smack him and stopped short. Instead, you let your hand fall and half-rolled your eyes. “Ehhh, don’t try to pull that stuff on me.”

He laughed behind his hand. “Have to try.”

You frowned with feigned annoyance. Jungkook had always been taller than you, even in heels, assuming you weren’t opting for miniature stilts. Still, you always had the impression he was never looking down at you, but up, even when his eyes were downcast.

“Yeah, that.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

“That look you’re giving me right now,” he chuckled sheepishly. “I knew you’d be able to balance me out and set me straight.”

You squinted at him. You let out a puff of air and looked away, tumbled into memories where maybe you could have been the one to change the course of these parallel lines. “Yeah, and look where that got us,” you muttered.

Sigh.

Somewhere behind you, a car honked loudly.

“Standing next to each other?” Jungkook quietly asked.

Two cars were having trouble at an intersection at the end of the row.

Standing next to each other.

Your gaze drifted back and locked with his. He didn’t try to hide the emotions his eyes. You were quite sure he could see through you too. The impasse remained, not because a bridge couldn’t be built, but because it couldn’t bear to be burned once more. Once more meant it would crumble to ash and disappear forever. You had thought it already had, until tonight.

You tried to reason with the unreasonable. “You cannot believe you skipping work and me deciding to spend a good chunk of my paycheck to mean some serendipitous shit, can you?” you scoffed.

He gave you that brilliant smile that had tamed you from the very beginning.

“You–”

You poked him hard in the chest.

“Ahh!”

Jungkook must not have expected that at all.

He almost fell over.

Your hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of his hoodie, dragging him back. His body lurched, slightly off balance, and your elbow swung forward, bracing onto his abs, leaving your faces close enough together for bystanders to get the wrong idea. For him to get the wrong idea. For you, too. You were close enough to count his eyelashes.

Enough time elapsed that you might as well have.

“What… What is with you?” you muttered, gripping his clothes. “You’re so… dramatic.”

He had another piercing on the side of his right lip now. Huh. How come you didn’t notice? Probably too busy being mad at him. Or not staring at his lips in fear of indecent thoughts. This current proximity and shared heat were not helping. His hands were somehow on your shoulders. Probably to steady himself. Or something else. You weren’t sure.

Jungkook stared at your lips.

You didn’t back away.

He leaned down and kissed you.

He must be an idiot to put you both in this position again. You must be an idiot too, because you kissed him back. Fuck it. Your hand on his chest relaxed, fingers spreading out, pressing your lips to his, breathing him in. He still used the same cologne you had complimented on back then. It made you smile into his lips. His tense hands on your shoulders fluttered, one slipping down to your upper arm, the other grazing your neck. His thumb brushing the side of your cheek. His other fingers weaving into your hair, tilting his head slightly. No promises, but.

A dream made.

You tapped his chest, forcing him to break the connection.

“W… What?” Jungkook gasped, his short breath mixing into yours.

“Not… Not here,” you chuckled, feeling your racing pulse in your throat. “I think we’ve done enough public reconciliation. Adding public indecency is not it. Someone is going to recognize you soon.”

Those shadowed eyes watching you were telling you he was ready to risk it.

“No,” you gritted, punching his chest lightly. Surprisingly, Jungkook did not budge and held on very strongly to your arm. “Stop that. Stop it with the sex eyes.”

He grinned. You could tell from the way his eyes crinkled. “Is it working?”

You pried yourself from him with some effort.

“All you’re telling me is that you really like handcuffs.”

“Promise?”

You straightened your clothes and answered absentmindedly. “Promise what?” You looked up to give him an indignant expression. He took your purchases to place them in the back of his motorcycle, giving you no verbal response.

Just a sneaky smirk in return.

-

“What did you think was gonna happen?”

“Uh…”

Before he could make another sound, you grabbed Jeon Jungkook by the collar and dragged him to you.

It was different.

Just not in the way you thought it would be.

Part of you thought to hold back. Build a solid foundation to see if this would work. Talk for a long while, move slow, step by recommended step. Then again, if you actually believed that, you would have instructed him to take you back to your apartment. Maybe send him off with a kiss and a pat on the head. You know. The complete opposite of shoving him up against his living room wall and tracing your tongue over his moaning lips with his hands gripping your waist. If this was going to work, it was always going to work. It didn’t matter if it was the wrong way or the right way.

This love was either going down in a blaze of glory or start an everlasting fire.

Might as well get on the ride.

You let him kiss down your neck, your hands sliding down to his. Interlocking fingers. Shivering at the sensation of his lips in your skin, familiar and new. Body-to-body. You pulled up his hands to force him to lose the top layers, including the beanie, exposing his toned chest and gleaming tattoos going from his right hand to his shoulder. His hoodie and t-shirt fell to the floor in a soft thump. His hair was different than when you had last seen him. Sides shaven, the top still long, messy black waves due to being crammed into the beanie. He flicked his head back, sending black strands all over his half-moon eyes, glistening pink lips parted in a soundless gasp.

You took his wrists and pinned Jungkook to the wall.

Panting, watching him under you despite looking upwards.

“W… What?” he breathed, locked in your transfixed stare.

It was different, yet it was the same. You could feel it. There could have been many others between the last time and right now. You knew there wasn’t. It was both sad and validating, because you knew how much he hated being alone, but now you knew there was truth to those promises he had said to you between sheets and pillows.

You leaned down and licked a wet, fat stripe over his chest, dripping saliva all over him.

Jungkook moaned, leaning his head against the wall.

“You belong to me,” you whispered over his heart. Raised your head and he was looking back at you.

Only you.

“I belong to you,” he whispered back.

You skimmed your lips over his skin.

“Prove it to me.”

He surrendered.

To your tongue, tracing patterns over his collarbones. To your lips, dotting kisses and making him flinch, whining for more. To your hands, holding him down and at your mercy, exploring him with sight, touch, and taste. You let go of one of his wrists to trail your nails over his abdomen, observing the way his body rippled, lifting towards you as sensitivity increased. You let your fingers wander, around his waist and into shaded territory, running your nails down his spine, watching his reaction. His head tilted back, hair in wisps around his temples, dark eyes clouded in lust.

Your name slipped from his lips.

You dug your nails into his lower back and pulled yourself up, unable to keep the side of your lips from curving upwards at his delicious whines.

“Take off my blouse.”

His fingertips slid across the slinky maroon fabric. Button by button, the fabric began to unravel in his hands, your forehead to his as he did so. You took his breath, tracing his muscles, murmuring his name just to feel him shiver as he heard it.

“I never had anyone else after you,” he mumbled, circling one of the buttons with his thumb. “I couldn’t.”

“You could have,” you hummed. “You were a free man.”

Jungkook undid the last button and stared into your eyes.

“No, I’m not.”

You half-smiled. “I wouldn’t take it personally.”

He leaned in again, brushing your lips with his.

“I belong to you.”

His touch, his kiss, the dance of mesmerizing senses. You stepped back. He followed. Tangled in each other, your blouse slipping off and dropping to the floor. Your bra unclasped, tumbling, his hands all over, places he had been a million times and desiring forevermore, squeezing your breasts with his hands, almost tripping over your skirt as you stepped out of it. His pants joined the trail of passion, and then his tongue was on you, lifting you in his arms and tasting your hard nipples with your hands in his hair, clutching his head for support with your legs around his waist.

“I’m going to fall,” you gasped, breathless.

“Over my dead body,” was the muffled answer with his face buried into your breasts. “Fuck, I love your ass.”

Perhaps to avoid death getting two for the price of one, Jungkook let you down, devouring you with kisses with your taste lingering on his lips, sinking his fingers into the soft curves. You curled your tongue against his, making him moan, hips grinding against hips, feeling his insistent hardness against your softness, trapping himself between your legs. You were still in your panties and he was still in his boxer briefs, although the thin fabrics were merely a nuisance to the inevitable.

“Jungkook…”

He was thrusting into you and jamming his cock in between your thighs, his strong arms wrapped around you and his teeth on your shoulder. You hummed, torn between telling him off and enjoying the feeling of his arousal swelling between your legs, but it was he who gasped and threw his head back, his hard length twitching against your clothed pussy.

“You ready to include me in this?” you questioned, amused.

“S-Sorry… Can’t help myself…”

Somehow, by instinct and minor effort, you were both in his bedroom now. The familiar bed you had once called yours, remembering the future dreamed upon those white sheets. Jungkook pulled you to them, calling you to the paradise that could only be created between two. Don’t, was your meek protest as he pulled down your panties and kneaded your thighs, shaking his head, I don’t care, and his tongue slid over your heat. Wet, dripping, your sweet taste and his saliva. He moaned between your legs, decorating you with kisses before sliding his tongue over you, drinking you desperately, you taste so fucking good, fuck, and your fingers buried into the sheets. He remembered everything you liked. Steady, soft licks, then harder when your legs tensed, tipping his head to bring his lips around your clit, drenching his chin with your wetness.

His hands turned and slipped under your legs, dragging you to his face by your ass.

“F-Fuck, Jungkook…”

You reached down and gripped his hair as you came on his face, his muffled gasp of surprise drowned out by the moan produced through your arched back and prolonged euphoria. Fuck. Fuck, it hadn’t been evident how much you missed this, no, him, your knuckles against the crown of his head, his hot tongue all over, his fingers locked onto your ass, even the way his nose brushed against your oversensitive clit as he thrust his tongue into your pussy, triggering another wave of pleasure, sparking electricity that burned through your veins.

His.

He pulled himself up with a groan, his mouth all over your body. Leaving bites, kisses, licks in his lustful wake. Your nails dug into his shoulder and he made that whimper you loved, obviously wanting more, and so you clawed his upper back as he pretended to resist you, refusing to move higher as he sucked on your nipples, gazing at you under half-lidded eyes, rubbing your other nipple between his fingers.

“Take it,” you growled under your breath.

He did, rubbing his hard, neglected cock against your thigh, denying himself longer.

Over time, you had hesitated to do such things. Jungkook had gotten in trouble before for being marked up. After all, his body was his selling point, and booking back-to-back shoots with poor choices in between ended up in humiliation. Unjustly so, perhaps, but you never did it again. Maybe you should have been more considerate this time too, but, no, that wasn’t what he was asking for.

He wanted the consequences of you.

He brought his face close to yours, your orgasm still on his breath.

“Mark me,” Jungkook demanded, his voice low and deep and gravelly. “I’m yours.”

So you did.

Hickeys on his perfect neck, sharp nails over his ass as you pushed down his underwear, adorning him with fierce, vicious passion that bruised him. He kissed your forehead, buried his fingers in your hair, and pinned you to him, pre-cum dripping onto your hip as he kicked off his restraints, pressing his hardness to you.

“You’ll get in trouble,” you warned even though the damage was already done.

“I don’t care,” he retorted, his thigh rubbing against your still-wet pussy. “I don’t care if I have to cancel the rest of the week. I don’t care if I never work in the modeling industry again. The only thing I care about is making sure you always know how much I love you.”

You froze, your lips above the inked floral mandala on his right shoulder.

“I should have made time.”

His arms drew up and encircled your head, his lips against the crown.

“I’m so, so sorry for not realizing how disrespectful I was to you. And I won’t do it again,” he murmured, leaving kisses intertwined with your hair. “I promise.”

“I…”

You reached up and held his shoulders, anchored despite the turbulence of an emotional sea.

“I missed being by your side, Jungkook.”

If his hard dick wasn’t literally throbbing against your hip, you might have cried.

You reached down and touched him.

“Ah!”

“Woah.” Your arm hooked around his waist as your hand enclosed around his girth. “I’m just making sure he’s keeping interest even during this emotional breakthrough.”

His cheeks flushed as he realized he had chosen his moment with possibly suboptimal timing. He didn’t have to worry. His body seemed to recognize your hand right away. You could feel the way his cock eagerly twitched on your palm. You cocked an eyebrow. He gave you a the-fuck-you-expect look, and you curled two fingers around his balls, lightly massaging with the pads of your fingers, simulating your tongue. He gasped, gripping your shoulders.

You leaned down and spit in your hand.

“F-Fuck!”

You backed up and slowly, leisurely, spread the slippery saliva all over his cock, letting him adjust his knees to give you a better positioning. Your other arm had moved behind you, lifting your torso up as you jacked him off. He seemed to not know what to do with his hands, foreign objects in his possession before his eye line drifted down. Down. His fingers trailed over your breasts, squeezing them and playing with your nipples as you increased the pace.

“Handcuffs could come in handy right now,” you commented.

He glared at you.

“S… Shut up.”

His cock had throbbed at the suggestion though.

You tilted your head, watching his breathing quicken as you applied the pressure where he liked it, the same pulse every time, not too fast and not too slow, building the frustration with a smile.

His face tensed.

Faster. A little tighter. Your thumb rubbed just under the base of the head with every ascent. He placed his palms against your hard nipples and you felt the familiar snap of his hips, leaning into your hand, his eyelashes fluttering, and for a brief moment you considered stopping.

Then again, these weren’t your sheets.

He gasped out your name and shot all over your stomach and thigh.

Hot, thick cum splattered onto your skin, making you suck in a breath as you felt it, saw it, smelled it, intense and strong and all over you. You were lucky it was on the thicker side, white streaks sticking to your body rather than running off. A painting of perverse proportions. Jungkook stared at his work, still semi-hard in your hand, clearly turned on by the sight. You sent him a questioning look.

“What now?”

Then he shocked you, and probably himself, by diving down and running his warm tongue over your cum-covered skin.

“Oh, what–”

Instant burning tingles spread throughout your nerves at the contact, vibrating through to your core, dripping as you witnessed the milky white coat his tongue. Your hand touched his shoulder, drawing him up, and he was tamed by your gesture, rising, his lips smeared with his release, and you drew closer to the heavy scent, to him. Lips to lips. Drank it from his mouth, swallowing the mixture of saliva and orgasm. Your tongue tangled in his, his fingers in between your legs again, thrusting two fingers into you, following the pull you had on him. Deep, slow, faster as the kiss grew more intense, breath to consumed breath, rolling your hips up into his hand, tightening around him, and Jungkook moaned, getting harder in your hand as your slick arousal drenched his.

“Condom?”

They spilled over the bed in his haste.

You were pleased to see it was the same brand you usually enjoyed. There wasn’t much to be read into that, though, because they had become his favorite as well per your introduction. You wondered if there would be a second first-time awkwardness and you were immediately proven wrong from the desperate and experienced way Jungkook dragged your ass to line up his dick. There was no time to be anxious, it seemed.

“You’ve acting like you’ve never had me before,” you teased.

Those dark eyes narrowed. “Don’t act like you don’t have the tightest, most perfect pussy I’ve ever been in.”

You half-shrugged. “Things could change.”

He slid in and clenched his jaw.

“You liar.”

You smirked and closed in around his length.

“F-Fuuuuuuuck me…”

You could have probably kept it up if it wasn’t for how fucking good he felt inside you. Just the right girth, and he lifted your legs, deeper, gasping, reaching the depth you liked. Your thighs against his chest. You locked eyes. Jungkook cocked an eyebrow with a familiar smirk. The corner of your lips ticked upward, and the rough, powerful pace began, your hand gripping his tattooed forearm and the other the sheets, losing yourself to the pleasure, pressed between the mattress and his hard body. His eyes closed, your lashes fluttering, witnessing glimpses of bliss, whispers of sweet nonsense lost between moans, leaning your head back onto his pillows, sinking into his scent.

Belonging to him.

His hair flicked sweat onto your chest. Your hand on the bed bent back and shoved the pillows down, using the leverage to lift your hips to his thrust, moaning at the visceral sound of slapping hips, wet and loud and vibrating throughout the room.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he panted out between gasps. “Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

You tried to deliver a compliment back but it was getting harder and harder to breathe. Your orgasm abruptly interrupted any coherent though, forcing you to bury your head back and endure the vice-grip of wanton delirium, barely able to gasp out his name as the hot wave dragged you under, your inner walls viciously pulsing all around his length. You heard Jungkook groan and attempt to say something, probably how much he enjoyed feeling your orgasm, he had done so before, however he seemed to be in his own dilemma as well, clenching his jaw and snapping his head down, the muscles of his chest taut and tense, and, in your intoxicated haze, you realized he was attempting not to follow, but.

“Fuck!”

He slammed his cock into you and cursed, throwing his head back as you felt the jerk of his cock spilling into the condom, trapped in your tightness, dragged into the kind of fever that couldn’t be sweat out, sinking down, down.

You stilled, suspended in bliss.

It was a little easier to breathe now. You missed this. Him, specifically. The sex you had together, carnal and intense and unparalleled. Closed your eyes, breathing hard, feeling the familiarity of Jungkook on top of you, spent, sweaty, frantic for round two. He didn’t like stopping if he could help it. It was one of his best traits. You felt him lower your legs carefully, backing out of you with a hiss.

Then you heard a wet, dirty sound.

You opened one eye.

He was staring at your body.

Running his fingers over his still-hard cock, bringing it back to full hardness.

“Let me look at you.”

You hummed. “You’re only seeing one side.”

His dark eyes shifted up to yours.

“Okay. Turn over.”

Desire turned his voice deeper, huskier.

With a sly smile, you rolled over, and scooted onto your knees, spreading your ass for him. You heard him suck in a breath, that’s so fucking sexy, and you flexed, letting him watch, entrancing him with the visual and the obvious sound of your wetness.

“Every part of you is perfect.” You could hear him jacking himself off, hard and fast. “Fucking perfect.”

“I feel that your judgement is clouded right now,” you answered back, muffled by his pillows in your face.

You heard the ripping sound and then a groan as he rolled down the condom. Then his strong hands grabbed your hips, prompting you to let go, and he sank into you.

“Fuck no, it’s not,” he gasped, picking you up by the hips to fully sheath himself. You managed to pull a pillow to your chest to allow ample breathing room. “I don’t want anyone else. No one else can satisfy me.”

You made your pussy tighten around him and he moaned again, his hot breath washing down your spine.

“Then let me satisfy you,” you purred, leaning back into him.

Your ass met his crotch in a loud, gratifying smack, easily locking into a rhythm you both enjoyed. Hard, aggressive, powerful, not holding back, you lifting a hand to extend back, and he caught your forearm, thrusting deeply as he held onto you. All of his power was directed below, the grip on your arm simply a symbol of possession, forcing you to lift your head and arch your back, adjusting to that more fruitful angle, sending heat all throughout your blood and nerves, the tension building, louder, harder, more.

He let you go, and you bucked back against him.

Moaned your name, delicious and desperate, begging you.

It was hard to count your orgasms. They seemed to blend into one another, entangled with the passion and the beat, not wanting to stop even as you struggled to breathe, clutching the pillow so hard that you could still feel your nails digging into your palm. The lust searing and yet not enough, chasing more, wanting more, wanting him, only him, your only, the one that belonged to you.

Your head tipped back, seeing only fragments of your surroundings, your hair a mess over your face.

“Jungkook, I love you,” you gasped.

You felt his hips flinch and he moaned your name, long and drawn-out, his hard cock jolting inside you, gripping your hips so tightly you probably had imprints of his fingertips. There was a flurry of expletives and panting. The haze of inexplicable euphoria settling, unavoidable and desired. You closed your eyes, savoring his release, feeling the radiating vibrations of his high pour into you as he slid down, his hot hands over your back, his shuddering exhales warming your shoulder blades.

Sweat, in small shivering droplets, sprinkled onto your skin.

“I love you too.”

He pressed his fingertips into your rising and falling body, touching you all over, confessing to your racing heart beneath his lips.

“I love you so fucking much.”

-

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah, totally.”

You turned your head to see Jungkook staring at your tits. You tucked a knuckle under his chin and forced it up. He gave you the big-peepers-in-headlights look.

“Huh?”

“Are you sure about this?” you repeated once more.

He gave you a confused look. “Yeah. I thought we talked about it?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Pardon me, but I’m not sure how much I can trust a discussion we were having with you balls deep inside me.”

“Eh?” His lower lip upturned. “Why not?”

You rubbed your temple with two fingers. “Why not, hah…”

“I meant it.”

You pulled one of his pillows over your naked chest so he could focus. You weren’t even sure why he had these. Jungkook slept on one of those stiff cylindrical pillows that was supposedly more comfortable. You weren’t too sure about how good that was for his neck, but sometimes you just have to accept the strangeness of your significant other. He must have kept these for the look of a nicely made bed. Or for moments like this. His eyes went back to your face again, reluctantly. He seemed a little disappointed.

“You don’t think I meant it?”

You saw his eyes were drifting to your thighs now. “It’s not really that…” You considered it. “It’s more… Well, we’ve tried already, you know. Aren’t you afraid it’ll happen again?”

His gaze shifted. You waited, letting him collect his thoughts.

“Afraid?” You saw him reflect the past and the mistakes. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am. I’m definitely going to change from how I was before. I can see how my work-life balance was shit, as both a friend and boyfriend. I don’t want to go back to that either,” Jungkook mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get it now. I can’t get time back. I was stupid, thinking me overworking myself wouldn’t drive you away, you know, we would have so much more time later… I went about it the worst way. I didn’t even discuss it with you. That was just me being selfish, and that selfishness made me insecure… I don’t want that anymore. I promise you that.” He shook his head and looked up at you guiltily. “Still… I can’t promise I won’t fuck up in some other way. And that scares me. But I have to act, even if I’m scared. Even if your final answer is, let’s not see each other anymore, at least I will have honestly given you my all this time, because you are it for me.”

You shook your head too. “There could be someone out there for you that is a lot more suitable than me. The world is the big place.”

He frowned, exasperated. “No. No, you don’t get it.” He placed a hand on your knee and looked into your eyes. “You are it for me. The world is big place, but my world is right here.” He poked you and you laughed, startled at the suddenness. A smile burst onto his face, holding your knee down, trying to drive his point home over your mirth. “Hey! Hey. I really meant it. All of it.”

You stopped laughing.

Somehow one of your hands was covering his now, feeling his warmth and hard knuckles in your palm.

“I belong to you,” Jungkook repeated, his own I love you. “I can’t love anyone else like how I love you. I don’t care if you believe me or not. Even if you leave me, sure, I might find someone to not be lonely with, but I will only belong to you.”

You held onto his hand, curling your fingers into his palm. “You…” This man was crazy, saying things like this. He affectionately squeezed your knee, flashing that killer smile of his.

“So… Yeah, I’m sure.”

He pulled his hand from under yours and touched your cheek, his knuckles against your skin.

“I’ll go along with whatever you choose.”

Truth was, you had already chosen.

“I’ll do my best too,” you murmured quietly, holding the pillow tightly. “I won’t let myself be complacent anymore.”

From the look in his eyes, you saw that Jungkook recognized that it had become an unintentional consequence of his actions. He smiled, still stroking your cheek.

“Yeah. Let’s be a team this time.”

You nodded, smiling back.

An extended silence of staring into each other’s eyes.

“Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“Are you just imagining rubbing your dick on my cheek?”

His rough fingertips grazed over your jaw. “Yeah,” he replied dreamily.

You smacked his hand.

“Ow!”

“Pay attention!”

“W-Wha, what?” He pouted. “What am I supposed to do!”

You grimaced, feigning annoyance but also not really. This guy. “No wonder we could only have serious talks in public or incarcerated…” you muttered.

“Ah, yeah, that reminds me.”

You raised an eyebrow at him as he twisted around and reached over to his phone, watching the ripple of his back muscles as he moved. Damn. This guy. He bounced back, messing about on the screen. You were too busy admiring the definition of his arms to notice, until.

“What kind of handcuffs should we buy?” Jungkook chirped, turning his phone to showing you the screen display of a sex goods webstore.

You blinked at him.

“What.”

And thus begun round two.

-

epilogue

“Hey- oh, wow.”

You stilled, surprised.

‘Oh, I thought you were going to meet me there?”

In your hand was your well-loved small black purse with a bow. Your other hand held the door open, seeing the tall form of Jeon Jungkook gawking at you in his matching denim jacket and jeans. Calvin Klein, the same brand as his white t-shirt under the jacket. That same brand was holding a lunch event today, except one of their attendees was blocking your path, open-mouthed at your hips wrapped in a tight, pink gingham miniskirt with embroidered red strawberries. Then his stare went to your chest, to the emerald-green satin blouse that complimented the little green accents of the mini strawberries, although you suspected his interest was less in the color and more in the way the seams accentuated the curve of your breasts.

You raised your eyebrows.

“I… I left early. I wanted to pick you up,” he was saying absentmindedly.

You gestured to the black car waiting at the front. “I already ordered a car, though. I can’t ride with you on your bike in this skirt.”

“We can get in the car.” Jungkook’s eyes went back down. You knew he wasn’t admiring the delicate crisscross straps of your black velvet pumps. “Damn, your legs,” he mumbled.

The driver of the car was about to watch a live-action porno if you didn’t take action. You set the alarm and lock before stepping out. Immediately, Jungkook’s hand raised, as did his gaze. You looked from the tattooed hand to his face. He grinned, creating sparkles in his big dark brown eyes.

“I ran off, hehe. I just wanted to personally accompany my darling,” he admitted. “Hopefully no one noticed.”

You fitted your hand in his, letting him lead you. “You’re too handsome not to notice. What a troublemaker,” you joked, pleased at his rebellion.

“Your troublemaker now. Where are we eating?”

“There’s a French themed café near some shops. After, could we stop by the tea shop? My dad has a request I need to fulfill.”

“Ooo, I love adventures with my future wife.”

You gave him a curious smirk. His mischievous grin just kept getting bigger, that underlip mole suddenly visible like a secret wink. He had been dropping such hints lately. You pretended to gloss over it even though the discussion of dream rings had already happened months ago. You reached out to open the car door and Jungkook impatiently nudged your hand away, doing it for you so you could enter easily in your heels. It was a very nice thing to do.

Taehyung probably grilled such behaviors into him. Not that you were complaining, of course.

You confirmed the destination with the driver as Jungkook got in the car from the other side, taking care to hook his sunglasses on the front of his shirt. You heard his phone vibrate. You turned your head to see him snickering at it.

“Taehyungie’s mad that I left him alone.”

“Whoops.” You did feel a little bad.

He waved a hand, tongue in cheek. “He’ll get over it.”

Your eyes met.

He had such beautiful, expressive eyes that held the stars every time he saw you.

“You sure?” you asked quietly.

Jungkook reached over and stroked your cheek with a smile.

“I’m sure I want to eat lunch with my future wife, yup. Then I’ll buy tea for her dad so I can get on his good side.”

You laughed. “Sounds like a sweet master plan.”

His black hair loosely styled over his forehead made him look younger. You knew better. Perhaps grown was not the word for it, but you could tell he was becoming more and more of the man he wanted to be every day. Attending events with Jungkook was different these days; he checked on you throughout the night, actively included you in conversations, and even introduced you to people he thought you might enjoy talking to, now to the point that familiar faces would come up to you first before they recognized him. But what was more important was this – arranging quality time to spend together, more communication, and obvious commitment. The pleasant surprise not being flowers or sweets or other material things, and instead his presence earlier than expected.

His laugh at night.

His forehead kiss in the morning, even if you were half-awake in bed.

His silly photos of fogging up a makeup artist’s mirror with his breath and drawing a heart with your name inside it.

He still had a hectic schedule, but now you and him knew when enough was enough. You could finally talk about it before either of you became too stressed out or lonely by it. That improvement was worth that entire roller coaster to get here.

You smiled.

He smiled back, his knee touching yours.

He was still stroking your cheek.

“Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“What are you thinking right now?”

He didn’t respond right away. He just adjusted his legs suspiciously and gave you his most innocent look that indicated he was most certainly guilty.

“Eh?”

You took him by the wrist and slowly lowered it before the driver could notice your partner-in-crime’s suspicious behavior. He pouted at you. The tent in his pants twitched. You cocked an eyebrow. Then you remembered something.

“Oh, by the way.”

He perked up. “What is it?”

You unzipped your purse a little bit and flashed the edge of shiny silver metal and chain.

“I borrowed something from a friend.”

Jungkook looked down.

Odd that it took him more than a moment to recognize handcuffs, considering that he – and you – had so much prior experience with them. His eyes went wide once it clicked. His cheeks flushed red. You smirked and rezipped your bag.

“What the fu–”

fin.

-

i hear... | ... the whispers... | ... in your eyes.

inspired by taylor swift's imgonnagetyouback :)

--

masterpost

[theemporium]

a dirty flirtini with mat barzal and “i like my bed, but i’d rather be in yours” 🥹 if you have time thank you ily bye

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

26. “I like my bed, but I’d rather be in yours.” 

.

Your relationship with Mat Barzal could be described as a long-winded, pining game of chicken.

It was a complicated relationship, one that many of your peers never seemed to understand. You knew you liked Mat, and you knew those feelings were reciprocated. But you also knew you cherished the boy beyond words could explain and you didn’t think you had the heart to try a relationship and ruin whatever bond you had. 

So instead, you were left in this weird limbo where you both constantly toed the line of friends to something more, seeing who would back out first. 

And it tended to get very close when you both were drunk. 

“Best pick up line. Loser buys the winner a drink. You in?” 

You turned on your barstool so you were facing him a little better. Your knees knocked together, thighs almost pressed against one another as you slid one of your legs between his to keep you in some weird, twisted embrace by the bar. 

The rest of the team were somewhere in the bar. You had been in your apartment—conveniently a five minute walk from the bar, hence why it was one of Mat’s favourite to suggest—when he had messaged you to come out and join then. Half an hour later, you were here and a few drinks in and that line between you and Mat was looking more and more tempting. 

“Hm,” you hummed, narrowing your eyes at the boy slightly. “How do we know who won?” 

“When the other is too flustered to reply,” Mat replied confidently. 

You shot the boy a grin. “You’re on, Barzal. Hit me with what you’ve got.” 

“Are you WiFi?” Mat began, pointing a finger between the two of you. “Because I’m feeling a connection.” 

You snorted. “That was horrible!” 

“I’m breaking the ice!” Mat defended, but he was laughing as well. “C’mon, your turn!” 

You tried to bite back your smile, to stay serious but it was difficult. “If you were a triangle, you’d be an acute one.” 

Mat let out a boisterous laugh, throwing his head back as he did. “And you said mine was bad!” 

“I never said mine were any better,” you shot back, knocking your knee against his to remind him it was his turn. 

“Alright, alright,” he let out a breathless laugh before turning his attention back to you. He leaned a little closer, and your heart jumped at the movement. “I’ve been learning important dates in history. You wanna be one of them?” 

You raised your brows but you didn’t pull away. Instead you moved closer, placing your hand on his arm and feeling him tense slightly. “Your lips look lonely, do they wanna meet mine?”

His lips twitched, a pink tint to his cheeks but he continued. “Only if I can borrow a kiss. Promise I’ll give it back.” 

“Hm, maybe,” you mused, your fingers tracing random shapes along his arm. You could feel goosebumps break out under your touch, could feel the way his eyes were staring at the side of your face before you turned back to look at him. “I like my bed, but I’d rather be in yours.” 

Mat blinked. And he blinked again. And then, he watched as your lips slowly wrapped around the straw of your drink before you took a long sip. He knew he lost the challenge, but it was hard to scramble around for a pickup line when his mind was full of other thoughts that included you and his bed. 

“I win!” You grinned at the boy, nudging his knee to knock him out of his thoughts.

“Uh, yeah,” he cleared his throat, cheeks burning and heart racing. “Put your drink on my tab.”

Your smile widened. “I’ve been doing it all night anyways.”

And Mat couldn’t help himself but cackle, head thrown back and the strongest urge to stay in that moment forever.

.

[mechformers]

Reypaytun

[Reypaytun [ˈɾɛj.paj.tun] - Blood red (color) ]

6.7k words | Masterpost |

Tsu'tey x Human Reader

Summary: Tsu'tey wakes up after a night of vigorous lovemaking to blood smeared between your thighs. He does not take it well, panicking hard as he "flees the scene", effectively leaving you behind. Eventually, he learns what really happened and once he does, Tsu'tey is not afraid anymore.

Content warning: Period blood, Period, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Period Sex, Period Cunnilingus, Period Fingering, Squirting, Stomach/Belly Bulge, Size Difference, Na'vi/Human. Idk I feel like "Tsu'tey is not afraid anymore" should be a tag of its own lol

Authors Note: So this was supposed to be pure, filthy porking and nothing more. BUT(!) as with most things that I do, it caught a case of the feels and it became both angsty and filthy, and way out of hand... Sorry? lol Also, I stared too long at that manip and now it just looks stupid and wrong all over lol Might add it on a later date though, if I can find a way to make it look okay, and most definitely to Ao3 when that day comes lol Sorry, I know it won the poll T.T

Tsu'tey didn’t know how he managed to end up where he currently was, curled up behind you, a sky demon, after a long night of intense lovemaking. For months, he had battled with his own emotions, punished himself for the sheer betrayal his heart was pushing on him once he realized what the speeding of his heart actually meant. At first, he had thought it was a side effect of surviving the war with the sky demons - after falling from such a great height. But in the end, he had to be honest with himself that the speeding of his heart had happened long before the war officially came to a head.

No, Jakesully was to blame for this, and no one else. He had brought you with him when he convinced Eytukan and Mo’at to welcome Grace Augustine back into the clan. Along this Normspellman person, you had walked in beside them, a tiny little creature, speeding as fast as you could with your ridiculously small legs to keep up. You had been so helpless and pathetic that the sheer sight of you had made Tsu’tey angry at Jakesully to have allowed you to even join them. Had you been present with Jakesully and Grace Augustine when his betrayal was revealed, however, Tsu’tey knew that he would not have dealt with the situation as reasonably as he had. As it was, however, he ended up falling from the metallic flying machine, littered with bullet holes. Crashing through the forest to the ground, the sky demons greeted him with even more horror. When he came to again, it was your small hands that tended to him until Jakesully and Neytiri could bring him to Mo’at.

After losing his kuru, Tsu’tey had not been kind to anyone, but especially not to you in particular. The words he had said, the strength with which he had grabbed or shoved you, were beneath him, but the fact that it had happened, he could never hide from. And nor did he. Once he got his feet under himself again, once his mind cleared enough for him to realize a thing or two about this new life of his - he had nothing but the wellbeing of the clan and you on his mind. Convincing you to forgive him, to give him a chance, however, had not been easy. In fact, it had demanded all of Tsu’tey’s spare time to prove himself worthy of your affection.

In the end, you reluctantly agreed to date him - a sky people invention where two or more people become mates on a trial basis, to see if you’re compatible. It pained Tsu’tey to no extent to know that this was all you were willing to give him, that you trusted him just about as far as you could throw him. But he had done this, had caused this situation, he needed to stand steady in it or leave you be. Now, Tsu’tey was a lot of things, but a quitter, he had never been.

The courting process - the dating - had been long and difficult, but eventually, you had agreed to live with him in the kelku he had made specifically with you in mind. it had everything you needed within it and although you had been skeptical at first, after seeing all the hard work he had laid down with you in mind, something seemed to click right for once. It made Tsu’tey relax a little, made his anxiousness calm down enough for him to noticeably lighten up again. The first time he had cracked a joke or two, laughing joyfully, Jakesully had choked with surprise. It had been a very good feeling indeed.

With you in his life, everything just seemed easier. Laughter came easier to him, his normally stressed and harsh demeanor mellowed out and despite the fact that you are a sky person, Tsu’tey has never been happier in his life. It’s probably why he lets himself lose control while making love to you. The sounds you make beneath him, the gasped whispers of endearment as you cling to him only fuels his need for you further. For hours, he plows into you, driving you over the edge time and time again until you’re a sweaty mess beneath him, your skin slick and salty, and warm. As his cock presses as far as it can go into you, bulging your stomach enough that he can feel himself, Tsu’tey knows that there is nowhere he would rather be than right here in your arms.

Releasing one last time inside of you, Tsu’tey kisses your lips so softly, it makes you whine. Smiling down at you, he notices how your eyes glitter as you stare up at him. The right thing to do would be to clean you up, to bathe your sore muscles, but at that moment, Tsu’tey loses against the voice in the back of his head that’s telling him to let his scent seep into the very pores of your skin. You fall asleep in each other's arms like that, with loving words and soft kisses on your lips. It is the best few hours of sleep Tsu’tey has had in ages, the best sleep he has had in the month you have lived in their kelku.

But when Tsu'tey awakens early the next morning there's something wrong. Distantly, he registers an iron scent on the air that he knows all too well, but as his mind is slowly waking up, he doesn't pay it much mind. Instead, he runs his large hand over your small body, grabbing your small breast in his large hands as he kisses your shoulder, smiling into your skin as you too awake with a positively satisfied sigh. Tsu’tey runs his hand down your body, over your waist, squeezing your curved and soft hip appreciatively before continuing down to your subtle thighs, pulling a breathy moan from your lips that has his own skin erupt in a million small goosebumps. Continuing on his joyous morning journey, Tsu’tey presses his hand between your legs to find your core already wet and waiting for him. Pressing a finger into you, he lets out a rumble from deep within his chest at how ready you are for him.

Pulling back, Tsu’tey guides you over to lay on your back before slotting himself between your thighs, your hot, moist core smearing slick over his breastbone where it presses into you. Grinning up, he bends his head down, kissing your shoulder, your breasts, giving each nipple a good suck, before continuing down to your molten core, never breaking eye contact with you as he starts his breakfast. Your beautiful eyes are probably why he doesn’t notice the distinct coppery iron scent or the blood that is smeared on the inside of your thighs. Your breathy gasp as his thumb circles your pearl is probably why he doesn’t notice the bloody trail that has seeped from your puffed and raw cunt before he’s there. It takes him back with such shock that he's on his knees between your widespread thighs before either one of you can register what has happened. Lifting his hand to reach out to the blood, he's met with the bloody picture of his own digits between your bloody thighs and core.

"I have hurt you, yawne," Tsu’tey mumbles low, his voice small, even to his own ears. Getting up on your elbows to see what's going on, you look at the blood on his hands and on his chest before you look down at yourself, noticing the blood smeared between your thighs.

"Shit," you swear, clapping your thighs together, hiding your core from Tsu'tey's eyes in apparent shame. "It's alright, Tsu'tey. This happens."

It is alright?

This happens?

Tsu'tey can't believe what he's hearing. His careless mating has hurt you, has caused you to bleed from one of your most sacred places. The immense pain you must have been in while he took his pleasures from you… Shame floods through him and before you're able to say anything more, he gets up to his feet, grabs his tweng and bow, and flees your kelku. Running as fast as his legs can take him, Tsu’tey doesn’t stop until he’s crashing to his knees by the river. Vigorously, he scrubs his hand and chest until his skin feels raw. He can’t get the image of your bloodied cunt out of his head, nor the vulnerable way you had looked up at him. With great shame and stones weighing heavy in his heart, he gets up to meet the hunting party he was to be a part of that morning, only for the hunters to stare weirdly at him.

“Where is your battle band, brother? Your blade?” Atan asks as he steps up to him, Takuk closely following behind.

Patting the bottom of his ribs, he finds the skin bare from its usual protective layer. However, Tsu’tey could not go back to their kelku, even though you might not be there anymore. The sheer thought of crossing your path makes his ears bend painfully low against his skull with shame. Closing his eyes he takes a deep breath before opening them again to stare at his old friend.

“I will go without,” He growls too harshly, making Atan look at him with concern.

“Brother, I do not think that is wise,” Atan starts, but Tsu’tey cuts him off.

“It will be fine,” Tsu’tey bites back at his friend.

“Go back home to get it, we will wait,” Takuk presses, his gentle voice making Tsu’tey sigh deeply.

“Let us go before the hunt will be in vain,” He doesn’t miss the way Atan and Takuk look at each other with worried expressions.

The hunt is not successful. Or at least, not on his part. Tsu’tey is unfocused and stressed, resulting in him missing each and every shot before he’s even able to let the arrows go. When they return, it is without honor for Tsu’tey. Without bidding his friends farewell, Tsu’tey leaves the party to stew alone. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long before Jakesully finds him and somehow that is even worse.

“What’s wrong, brother? Trouble in paradise?” Jakesully ask, immediately souring Tsu’tey’s already sour mood.

“Go away, demon,” Tsu’tey growls, noticing how harsh the words are spoken, making him involuntarily wince.

“Demon, huh? That bad?” Jakesully hums thoughtfully, falling into silence beside Tsu’tey. It takes hours of the two of them just sitting in silence together, Jakesully waiting him out, letting Tsu’tey wallow in his own shame and misery until finally, Tsu’tey breaks his silence.

“I hurt Y/n during our mating,” Tsu’tey admits, the words all but a whisper of shame, but of course, Jakesully hears them.

“Good hurt or bad hurt?” He asks as if there is a difference.

“There is no such thing as good hurt, Jakesully,” Tsu’tey growls angrily at his stupid friend.

“Trust me, brother there definitely is and I can assure you, with your size difference, there absolutely is,” The cheeky grin on Jakesully’s face is beyond infuriating to Tsu’tey.

“I made her bleed from her core, tell me where the good hurt is in that, demon,” Tsu’tey hisses before his shoulders slump, and the anger at Jakesully bleeds back into shame at his own actions.

“Oh…” Jakesully hums, his brother finally understanding Tsu’tey’s distress.

“And do you know what she said to me?” Tsu’tey huffs a humorless chuckle, “It is alright. This happens. Which means that it is not the first time I have hurt her like this, without noticing it - without her telling me. I have let her suffer because of my own greed,”

“Are you sure it isn’t just her period?” Jakesully hums, “I mean, she said this happens, right? The Na’vi don’t have them, but humans do. And it’s not as if she’s stopped your mating, right?”

“What is this period you are talking about?” Tsu’tey asks, because no, you haven't stopped their mating before. If anything, you have been overly eager for it.

“It’s uh… well, Y/n could probably explain it better, but each month human females bleed from their… you know,” Jakesully gestures between his legs, as if the word were somehow shameful.

“From the cunt?” Tsu’tey deadpans, watching as Jakesully’s ears flatten and his cheeks darken with heat.

“So crude,” Jakesully sighs before grinning, “But yeah. It's their reproductive organs, their uh… uterus? The womb. Shredding itself to prep-”

“Shredding itself?” Tsu’tey interrupts, his eyes huge as worry overcomes him.

“It’s uh, it’s her body’s way of preparing a new egg to be fertilized so that she can become pregnant - uh with child, after the current egg didn’t take,” Jakesully hastily continues, his discomfort so clear on his face and in his voice.

“So she is laying an egg?” Tsu’tey fills in, feeling bad for not having succeeded in fertilizing the egg you had worked so hard to prepare for him - for them.

“What? Fuck, no,” Jakesully barks, wiping his hands over his face, “Shit… uh, female humans carry a child in their stomachs, in their womb. It’s a… aw hell, I don’t know what it is, alright. There’s an egg, you jizz in her, she might become pregnant and the egg will develop into a child. If she doesn’t become pregnant, the egg will get washed out with the blood before being replaced with a new one.”

“I see,” Tsu’tey hums, but in reality, he does not see anything. Whatever Jakesully is talking about sounds weird and alien to his ears.

“Some women are in really great pain because of it, while others… - brother, where are you going?” Jakesully shouts after him, but all Tsu’tey can focus on is getting to your kelku as fast as possible.

He had left you alone in your kelku while you possibly were in great pain. He had left you there, too caught up in his own shame and emotions to hear you out when you had tried to explain it to him. Passing his people, he takes no care of them as he rushes as fast as his long legs can take him. Eventually, he’s crashing through the doorway of your kelku making you gasp with surprise where you’re preparing a yovo fruit for yourself.

“Yawne,” He pants, entirely out of breath.

“Are you alright, Tsu’tey?” Your worried words greet him as you put the knife down to greet him.

“Am I… Yawne, I did not know,” Tsu’tey falls to his knees before you, pressing his forehead to your stomach as he bends in on himself. Your hands immediately come up to hold him, your tiny hands gently caressing the base of what remains of his kuru, as you hold him close.

“Are you in pain?” He continues after lifting his head when his worries start to soothe, “Is the egg causing you pain?”

“Ah, you’ve talked with Jake I take it?” You hum with a soft chuckle, your beautiful eyes glittering as you look up at him in amusement.

“I have,” Tsu’tey confirms, bending his head down to look at you. “I do not fully understand, Jakesully mentioned that you might be in great pain, and I… Yawne, I left you,”

“It’s alright, yawntu, this is new for you. I would have warned you, but I didn’t expect it to come so soon,” You look down at him with your gentle eyes as if he hung the stars in the sky.

“I thought that I had hurt you,” He mumbles shamefully, “That I had caused you to bleed,”

“So your first cause of action at seeing me bleed would be to run away, got it,” You grinned up at him, teasing him as if this was somehow funny to you.

“Yawne! I…-” He starts, the protest and shame flaring up inside of him. How could he have acted this disgracefully to his mate?

“I’m just kidding, I’m just kidding, Tsu’tey,” You laugh openly as you push his head down into your stomach again, your weak arms holding him close as you chuckle.

“I have disgraced our bond, Y/n,” Tsu’tey starts, his heart breaking in his chest.

“Hey, no, Tsu’tey,” You urge, pushing his head up so that he’s kneeling before you at eye level instead. “Listen to me closely, alright?”

You don’t continue before Tsu’tey reluctantly nods his head, your small hands still on his face, comforting him through what must be a quite distressing time for you.

“Reacting as you did to seeing blood is alright. Especially for someone who has experienced violence as you have,” You pause until Tsu’tey realizes that you’re waiting for him to nod his head in understanding, “We mate with such passion that your conclusion wasn’t farfetched,”

“I do not know this word; farfetched,” Tsu’tey looks into your eyes, reveling in your patience with him.

“It means that it was not a foolish conclusion to come to, that it was within your right to think of it,” You smile again as if he has hung the stars in the sky while your thumbs caress his cheekbones comfortingly. “I’m small compared to you, and you are certainly huge in all aspects of the word,”

Tsu’tey can’t keep his chest from puffing up with pride, no more than he can keep his lips from forming a smug smile. Huffing up at him, your fingers take hold of the base on his ears, making them twitch.

“Behave, yawntu,” You grin up at him, letting him know that it is all in fond fun. “You have never and will never hurt me while mating, Tsu’tey. I don’t know if you’re even capable of doing such a thing,”

You stare up at him while he lets your words sink in, coming to the conclusion that you know best and that Tsu’tey has to trust your judgment. Sighing with the release of his stress and worry, Tsu’tey bends his head down to rest his forehead against yours. It’s comforting the way you’re still holding onto him, grounding him as if you somehow already knew what he needed despite your young bond.

“This period, this blood, can you tell me more about it? I wish to understand it so that I can better help you when it comes,” Tsu’tey hums, opening his eyes to look into yours.

“Of course, yawntu,” You smile beautifully up at him before slowly pulling away.

Taking his hand in yours, you lead him over to your nest, waiting for him to sit down before you bend your small legs to sit between his bigger ones. Taking both of his hands in yours, you look up at him as you start to explain what a period is, chuckling softly at his horrified expressions while explaining about your uterus shredding and how that causes the blood to dribble out. You walk him through everything, about how to contain it, about how you usually manage the pain, and how there are different methods.

“How else may I help you ease the pain, yawne?” Tsu’tey presses on when he notices you’re holding something back.

“It’s uh…” You stutter, your beautiful face darkening with an embarrassment Tsu’tey doesn’t understand. “There’s the act of mating, of - of reaching completion,”

“Mating?” Tsu’tey parrots, his eyes growing huge as his ears rotate forward with undivided attention.

“The act of mating reduces the cramping and reaching completion eases the pain,” You mumble, not able to meet his eyes head-on, “But it’s not something you have to do. I’ve got my heating pads, warm blankets, and excellent pain meds,”

At the mention of medication, Tsu’tey wrinkles his nose with distaste. He had never been fond of the sky people medicine, and to hear that you regularly take them to control a pain he could be helping you with, makes his anger flare. Slicking his ears back with annoyance, Tsu’tey huffs loudly.

“It is no bother for me to mate with you, yawne,” He starts, noting how your cheeks darken even further, “A little blood has never scared me before and it will not start now. Please, let me help you,”

“You really don’t have to, Tsu’tey,” You try again, your embarrassed little face looking up at him full of love and wonder.

“I want to,” Tsu’tey whispers, bending down to rest his forehead to yours again.

“Are you sure, yawntu?” Your eyes portray it all, your uncertainty, your need for him.

“I am, yawne,” Tsu’tey rumbles as he crawls over you, forcing your small body to bend backward to lay back in your nest.

It brings him straight to your hot core, the coppery iron scent strong and warm when he takes a deep breath. He isn’t afraid anymore though. This period had personally insulted him, but now, Tsu’tey would show you what a man truly was. Growling, he plops down on you, the entirety of his weight pressing the air from your small lungs, just how you liked it. The warm heat from your core wraps around Tsu’tey’s lower chest, lulling him to grind his hips into the soft nest beneath your bodies.

“You take my breath away, yawne,” Tsu’tey breathes as he lets the bridge of his nose run up the side of your neck, smirking childishly when it makes your breath stutter in your chest.

“Tsu’tey…” You gasp as he reaches your lips, kissing you long and deep.

The way your small hands clutch at his shoulders to hold on makes something inside of him snap. It’s ridiculous how every touch from you sends him over the edge, breaking the hard-set control he has over himself. You’re simply intoxicating to him. Running his hand down your flank, Tsu’tey lets his fingers flutter over every dip and roll of your soft skin, taking pleasure in the way the contact makes you moan. It never ceased to amaze him just how soft your skin was. The very first time you had allowed him to touch, to feel you, he had lost himself in your body, emerging only when the sun rose once more. His eyes had been blown wide the following day, much to everyone’s amusement.

Now, it was no different. The very scent of you stoked the fire within him, edging him closer to the point of no return, to the point where there was no one but you and him in this life that Eywa had graced them with. Giving you parting butterfly kisses, Tsu’tey dips his head lower, letting his lips trace an incoherent trail until he reaches the top of your chest. He’ll have to part with your thighs around his chest if he is to continue. A part of him doesn’t want to, but the needier part of him claws at his insides for Tsu’tey to present him with the sweetest nectar of your core. It’s the part of him that wins, in the end. Wrapping his hands around your thighs, Tsu’tey gently parts them from around his chest, pushing them back, opening you up like the most precious of flowers.

He’s presented with the same sight as he was that morning, your cunt puffy and red, needy and ready for his ministrations. The blood that slowly comes from your parted lips doesn’t scare him anymore. It’s so… little? Yet, that very morning, it had seemed almost too immense for him to comprehend. Curiously, Tsu’tey runs the pad of his thumb through the red liquid, marveling at the way it colors the blue skin of his thumb. Wiping it away from your entrance, however, only produces more as he forces your lips to part. Smiling to himself, Tsu’tey bends down to kiss the inside of your knees before starting his journey to the core of his desire. He takes a moment to marvel at your own stripes, the silvery, pink, brown, and purple smooth grooves that paint your skin in some places. Never would he have believed sky people worthy of such beauty, but yet again, you had proved him wrong. Your stripes are so different from his own, more like the lightning that crosses over the beautiful Pandora skies. Running his fingers over the stripes on your lower stomach, Tsu’tey marveled at your beauty for a moment before getting to his stomach between your spread thighs.

This close to your cunt, Tsu’tey can see everything. Hears your heart beating frantically in your chest as your blood courses through your veins. Tsu’tey can smell everything. And it makes something wild within him roar to life. His mind zeroes in on one thing and one thing only. Distantly, he registers that you’re talking to him, that your small hands find their way into his braids, but he’s lost in the spell you have over him. Running the pads of his thumbs along the outer lips of your cunt, Tsu’tey is helpless but to lick his lips as your red speckled slick coats his journey. Pressing gently on the silky smooth skin, he watches as your cunt opens up for him, watches as the impossibly small slit stretches the further he pushes.

Repeating the motion, Tsu’tey growls desperately when a fresh dollop of slick emerges from your cunt, the red speckles in it almost beautiful as it slides downward. Unable to hold back anymore, Tsu’tey leans forward, bumping his nose into your swollen pearl as kisses the warm, slick core of your cunt. The sound is almost rudely loud in your otherwise quiet kelku. The slick sticks to his lips in thin strings when he pulls away just far enough to meet your eyes over the swell of your stomach and breasts. Licking his lips, his nostrils flare as the taste hits his tongue, effectively sending his brain into a frenzy. Almost immediately, Tsu’tey dives back in, this time plunging his tongue straight into your core, lapping eagerly at your soft, warm walls. His nose keeps hitting your precious pearl, the hot air from his lungs blowing over it in rapid succession as he dines on a taste he’s never had before.

The taste of your coppery blood combined with the impossibly sweet and heady taste of your natural slick had Tsu’tey all but whining between your thighs, his digits tightening around the plump of your thighs as he held on for dear life. Driving his tongue as far as he’s able to reach inside of you, Tsu’tey breathes heavily as he makes a seal around your cunt, sucking while he licks at your insides. The taste of you explodes on his taste buds with each lick, making him push further and further to get more. He feels almost desperate when your small hands pull hard at his braids, trying your best to lift his head from your molten core.

“T-t..” You stutter, your breath coming harder than his, “T’ey,”

“Yawne,” Tsu’tey answers your call, his voice husky and raw, even to his own ears.

But you’re too far gone. With the little break that you obtained, your head falls back, hitting their nest while you continue to breathe heavily, your small chest lifting and sinking rapidly. It fuels something so primal inside of Tsu’tey that he physically had to clutch onto the bedding to keep himself from pouncing on you. He doubts the stretch would have truly hurt you, had he not been able to hold himself back. The amount of slickness and the plump readiness of your cunt told him as much, but even though you had told him how much you loved the stretch, Tsu’tey was acutely aware of your size difference.

So instead, Tsu’tey eases two digits inside of you, grinning proudly when he meets no resistance, just the slick, plump heat of your hole. Spreading his fingers, Tsu’tey watches as your head bends further back, a moan escaping your gorgeous red-bitten lips as he adds another finger. Like this, you’ve told him, he’s bigger than any human male known to history. It makes his chest puff ridiculously with pride. Add his own cock to the mix and you were a pampered little mate.

“What are you thinking about, yawntu?” You huff a chuckle as you look down at him.

“Nothing, yawne,” Tsu’tey smiles as he leans up to kiss your lips.

Pulling back, there’s red smeared on your face. The realization that he’s wearing you on his own face has his tail whipping painfully behind him with excitement. There’s something so intimate about this, an experience a Na’vi mate could never give him. For a moment, Tsu’tey thanks whatever power Eywa had in changing his mind, whatever made him turn on his opinion and pursue you. Staring down at you, there was no doubt in Tsu’ey’s mind that no atokirina could ever compare to your beauty. Try as she might, the Great Mother could not create anything even comparable to the beauty you held in his eyes. Grinning smugly, Tsu’tey spread your legs even wider with his knees, huffing proudly when your breath hitches.

The way his chest breathes deeply makes his heavy cock glide through the slick of your cunt, your size difference enough for there to be enough motion between you. The sheer heat of your cunt never ceases to amaze him, and try as he might, he’s unable to keep his hips from thrusting, to keep himself from seeking out your tight, slick heat. Pulling back, Tsu’tey meets your eyes as the head of his cock catches on the slick, hot “O” of your cunt. Swallowing audibly, he watches as your body shivers, your cunt spasming, kissing his cock head with an excited greeting. Wetting his lips, Tsu’tey presses forward, feeling his cock crown the tight circle of your cunt before you clench, sending his cock sliding through your slick to end under your navel.

“Tsakem rä'ä si, txopu rä'ä si, yawne,” Tsu’tey growls, his accent heavy, “Do not do that. Do not be scared, yawne,”

“I could never, yawntu,” Lifting your small arms, Tsu’tey bends down for you to grab onto the back of his neck, letting your weak arms press him down into a gentle kiss that touches his very soul.

Leaning his forehead to yours, Tsu’tey tries pushing forward again. The angle is weird like this, making it difficult to line up, but he wants to be close to you, wants to watch the exact moment he breaches your body, just so that he can see your pupils dilate to nothing but black. His cock catches on the ripe, slick circle of your molten core, but this time, when he presses forward, you don’t clench beneath him, denying him access. Instead, your body grows boneless beneath him as you relax, allowing him passage to the innermost sacred place of your body. It’s the easiest, most difficult glide Tsu’tey has had in his entire life. Never before has your body felt like this, clutching onto him as if the very thought of him leaving sent panic through your slick walls.

Groaning, Tsu’tey stills, letting the stretch of his size cement for just a moment before he pulls his hips back, tutting at your distressed whining before he slams into you, this time guided by the slick from his first slide. It fills you up to the limit, the head of his cock hitting that gloriously smooth and plush thing deep inside of you. It caresses the shaft of his cock, just behind his sensitive head while le butts into your wall. Distantly, he knows that he can go no further, but he still tries, pressing until his hips finally meet the plush meat of the crook of your thighs. You’re spread so wide beneath him that for just a moment, he wonders how you haven’t broken yet. Instead, you’re clutching onto him as if your very life depended on it, and when he pushes up on his hands, pressing the full weight of his body on your connection, he can see why.

Beneath your navel, there’s the clear indentation of his own cock beneath your skin. It isn’t the first time Tsu’tey has seen it, but there’s something about it this time that sends him over the edge. Involuntarily, his hips thrust hard, sending your body upward with the sheer force behind it. Your small shoulders meet his wrists, stopping your journey as his cock presses further into you from beneath. It’s a surreal thing to see. One moment, you’re gasping, eyes wide in shock, and the next, there’s something hot spraying from your cunt against his abdomen as your cunt ripples harder around him than ever before while you scream. Your orgasm lasts longer this time, squeezing Tsu’tey’s cock hard as your cunt tries its hardest to milk the juices that it so longs for. But it’s not the orgasm that has Tsu’tey perplexed.

“What was that, yawne?” Tsu’tey asks, his voice unrecognizable to his own ears.

But all you respond with is a series of ‘oh god, oh god, oh god’ while you covered your face from his eyes. Now, Tsu’tey was no fool, he knew your rambled string of words meant that you were in incomprehensible pleasure. It had happened the first time he ate from your core, the first time his fingers had entered your cunt, and especially the very first time his cock had stretched you around his size. So with that knowledge, Tsu’tey set out to get the same reaction again, if only for his own pleasure at seeing it.

With the same eye for detail, Tsu’tey repeats his motions, pulling back before entering you halfway once again. It sends your head back with a long wet moan, your puffy lips parted as you grab a hold of his wrists, preparing yourself for what you so obviously have anticipated to come. Grinning, Tsu’tey slams into you a little harder than he had meant to, but it’s all the same to you. Your loud moans fill your kelku as Tsu’tey presses further, testing the limit. It doesn’t happen immediately, like the first time, but Tsu’tey isn’t deterred. He is a man on a mission, a mission he is hellbent to succeed. And sure enough, after a while, your mouth starts forming that series of ‘no no no no no’ that always comes before something mesmerizing. It spurs Tsu’tey on, his mind chasing that burst of excitement, so pure, from your body’s core.

Thrusting faster, harder, Tsu’tey is not disappointed when he looks down just in time to see that same clear spray emerge from your core, coating his abdomen not just once as before, not twice, but four times. In time with your cunt contracting around him, Tsu’tey was helpless but to give into your core’s demand. With a final thrust, he sheats himself as deep as he’s able to while his body pumps you full of his seed. He’s breathing hard as he lays down on top of you, holding you captive beneath him while you breathe.

“You are,” Tsu’tey pants, taking deep breaths before continuing, “Amazing, yawne,”

Kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your gasping lips, Tsu’tey takes pity on you for a second, balancing most of his weight on his elbows, only for you to whine in annoyance. Huffing a chuckle, Tsu’tey slides down carefully once more, watching you closely as his full weight is on you again. Never would he have imagined his weight to be such a comfort to you, but as you hide your face between his pecs, Tsu’tey is left to drift on the sensation of your combined bodies while you land. He doesn’t know how long it takes, but by the time you emerge from his chest, the chill of the setting sun has started to creep into your dark kelku.

“Welcome back to Pandora, yawne,” Tsu’tey teases, only for you to clench your cunt around his sensitive cock, making him hiss.

“You are a cruel man, yawntu,” You huff, but the poorly hidden amused smile lets him know that your words have no bite to them.

“I am,” Tsu’tey agrees, grinning widely as he kisses your lips. “What does that make you, ma muntxate?”

“An innocent bystander?” You try, your sheepish grin mesmerizing Tsu’tey’s heart.

“You, ma yawne,” Tsu’tey starts, leaning down to hover over your lips, “Have never been innocent a day in your life,”

It brings the most beautiful laughter from your lips, a laughter that doesn’t immediately die down, but instead continues on until it gradually fizzles out. At this moment, Tsu’tey wishes that he could make tsaheylu with you, that he could show you the love that blossoms in his heart, a love that is so strong he’s not certain he could stay true to Eywa if challenged. But you do not have a kuru and he… he does not have his kuru anymore. Still, with everything that you are, you try your best to fill the gap he’s missing, letting him know how much he’s loved without actually having said the words before.

“I love you, Tsu’tey,” Because, of course, you would read him so easily. The notion is no less meaningless to Tsu’tey’s ears though.

“I love you, yawne,” He hums, kissing your lips slowly before hovering above them again, catching your eyes in his, “I have for a very long time,”

It’s an intimate moment, one heavy with emotions, with trust, and honor. You’re both from different worlds, but somehow, together, you have made it work, supporting each other with everything that you were. Tsu’tey knows that there will be nothing in this life or the next that can keep him apart from you. Beneath him, you reach a hand out to brush two of his braids beneath his ear, your small fingers gently rubbing his ear on your way back. Smiling, Tsu’tey gets up to his knees, watching his cock move inside of your small cunt. Pulling out, he watches as your red-speckled slick and his luminescent seed stick to his cock. There’s a mixed string connecting the head of his cock to the puffy mouth of your cunt for a moment before it breaks in the chill evening air. A moment later, however, his seed runs out of your wide-stretched, red hole. It’s beautiful.

Leaning forward, Tsu’tey attaches his mouth to your open cunt once more, sucking his seed and your slick from your abused and tired hole. If possible, your cunt is even hotter, even softer than before as he digs his tongue inside, slurping loudly even to his own ears. The plush of your thighs has collapsed shut on each side of his head, your cute weakness trying to push his head away, but Tsu’tey will drink his fill of you. Not even your gasped whines from above stop him in his ministrations before, as you desperately ramble, something sweet hits his tongue and face once, twice before your thighs fall dead from his head.

It takes him a moment to realize what has happened, but when he does, his cock twitches with interest. You, however, lay completely boneless above him, your breathing coming hard and fast, your eyes closed. Taking pity on you, Tsu’tey licks his lips before gathering you up in his arms. A bath would do you both good before some food and sleep. In the morning, Tsu’tey would quench his thirst for knowledge and you would let him, one way or the other. Grabbing a blanket, Tsu’tey wraps it around you, covering your modesty as he learned the hard way how sky people valued that sort of thing. Walking out of your kelku, Tsu’tey headed toward the river.

“Brother,” Jakesully shouted from the entrance of the communal meal, “Dinner was served a while ago,”

“We will eat at home, Jakesully,” Tsu’tey turns to his… friend, only for the man in question to holler loudly.

“Yo, Tsu’tey got his wings, alright!” Jakesully announces loudly, pulling the curious stares of Atan and Takuk.

Tsu’tey pays them no mind, however, as he continues his walk down to the river. He has a mate to take care of, one who brings him such joy he hardly believed he was still alive some days. To know that you felt the same as he - Tsu’tey could ask nothing more of the Great Mother.

That pesky egg of yours, however…

[starlit-typewriter]

Genshin SAGAU, Creator of Teyvat, but not Humanity Part 10

I LIVEEEEEEEEEE.

Sorry this took so long guys, I really wanted to take my time to prepare for the next big arc that's coming soon.

Also life got in the way.

But here it is,

Part 10!

Doing something a lil different this time, let me know what you guys think! Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

~~~~

It’s a lot quieter these days. More peaceful.

Not that wasn’t peaceful before, but that peace was different, more charged.

Back then, he was recovering from Durin’s poison after all.

He lay alone in the ruins of Decarabian, waiting for his wounds to heal.

He may have been the Dragon of the East of Mondstadt's Four Winds.

But it was still painfully slow.

Emphasis on slow.

Even after the war was done and the battle had passed.

The mental wounds heal much slower than the physical ones.

So no, it was never truly peaceful, even when it was quiet.

He was asleep most of the time, but it didn't stop him from feeling the passage of time.

Didn't stop him from reliving that battle in his dreams.

That battle had been painful beyond words.

And not just from the poisonous blood.

Durin was a dragon.

Not a true dragon mind you, his form was synthetic and his powers false.

But,

He was still draconic, in a sense.

Far more draconic than the Vishaps that his people became.

And, well.

He was so young.

Even when they fought, he could tell that Durin was not used to flight.

Nor to the winds and freedoms of Mondstadt. 

If it weren’t for the fact that his poisonous blood had already wreaked so much havoc, Dvalin would’ve tried reasoning with him.

Not that he didn’t in the first place.

For he did, 

And, well

Durin was so painfully young,

So obviously innocent and clueless to the ways of the world.

He didn’t know that he was causing pain to those around him.

He didn’t even know that he himself was getting injured when they fought.

At the time it was infuriating.

This young arrogant creature causing havoc and fear all the whilst singing about a dance with him and the people of Mondstadt. 

It wasn’t until they had started landing blows, when he realized the truth.

Durin didn’t know kindness from pain.

His cursed creator never bothered to give him the chance to learn what singing and dancing was.

No opportunities to know life without pain, without injury.

At first he thought they enjoyed the adrenaline of battle, the thrill of landing and receiving blows from a worthy opponent.

He soon realized that their fight may have been one of the only times that Durin had been touched.

That his heavy blows may have been the first bit of warmth this youngling had ever felt.

A child who’d never known love, would think violence and pain was the norm.

Unknowingly hurting those around him in search of connection.

He never had a chance.

When Davlin bit into his neck, he bit deep and he bit hard.

Hoping that it would make this quick and painless.

Hoping that after all this, Durin might be able to find some peace.

That they could perhaps find a new form to see the world.

To learn what it truly means to sing and dance with the people of Mondstadt.

He had wept for Durin, 

Privately of course.

Whilst he did not want to hide Durin’s true nature from the world, he also knew that minds were difficult to change. 

The people of Mondstadt saw only a terrifying beast with poison for blood. 

A monster that had razed their lands and hurt their people.

How could he even begin to explain how none of it was intentional.

That Durin just wanted to make friends.

No,

They would not believe him,

Or even if they did, they would not understand, could not understand.

They were simply too human to see the woes of a dragon.

It was easier for everyone if,

Well,

If he kept his mouth shut,

And let the humans spin their tales as they see fit.

The trust of humans is hard won, especially for a dragon. 

He had only received their trust at the word of their Archon, he could not afford to shake it, not during such turbulent times.

Barbatos’s word is powerful, but not all encompassing.

That is by choice,

He would not order his people to trust or accept anyone. 

He would simply offer protection to those he deemed worthy.

Durin was not worthy.

To this day he is still unsure whether Barbatos knew of Durin’s true nature.

And well,

He doesn't want to.

Because, well. 

He doesn’t know which would be worse.

If he didn’t, then that means one more person sees Durin as nothing more than a bloodthirsty evil dragon.

If he did,

Then,

Well,

Dvalin doesn’t want to jump to conclusions.

However, he can’t deny that he was far from peaceful back when he and Barbatos met.

He was nowhere the force of destruction Durin was, mind you.

It was simply that he had no love for humans.

They were no more important to him than the nearest squirrel or hog.

Barbatos was the one that taught him about the beauty in humanity.

As well as how to use his abilities to protect them.

If it weren’t for Barbatos giving him a chance.

Would he have ended up like Durin?

Would Barbatos have killed him, like he did to Durin?

Those were questions that plagued his mind whilst he was recovering.

The pain from his wounds and the poison didn’t help.

Not to mention Barbados had gone to sleep.

It was lonely.

His mental barriers were down, and that’s when the Abyss Order had decided to strike.

Taking advantage of his weakened state, and his doubts in his friends.

They turned him into what he feared he would become.

An evil dragon.

Just like Durin.

He thought Barbatos would abandon him.

Would order his death like he did Durin.

But he didn’t,

He trusted him.

Helped him.

Healed him.

Things are better now,

Now

Well,

Barbatos visits,

Sometimes

He never got the answer to his question, and he still daren’t ask.

But that’s alright.

Because Dvalin is not Durin.

Becuase he met Barbatos, and learned about humans.

Because he gained their trust and respect.

Because when he fell, they came and saved him.

Davlin no longer worries about having to prove himself worthy of their trust.

He is, 

At peace.

A bit too peaceful actually.

The days of the Archon war were filled with patrols and meetings and well,

There was always something to do.

Now,

Barbatos may not be sleeping, but he rarely visits.

Andrius is occupied with his wolf pack.

Davlin is alone most of the time.

Barring the occasional adventurous human who travel to the ruins in order to gawk at him.

They should of course, he is magnificent.

But, well, 

He wouldn’t be terribly upset if they’d gone up to him and struck up a conversation.

Not that he wants to converse with someone.

He is the mighty Dvalin, Erstwhile King of the Skies. 

Not that there’s really much to rule over.

They are at peace after all

He can’t deny he missed the days of the action war, when he’d fly amongst the people and spend time with Barbados and Andrius and the rest.

Now that is all ancient history.

Not a living human remembers that time.

Well,

Depending on your definition of human.

Dvalin sighs, his breath echoing through the ruins of Decerrbian.

He could hear the bright chattering of hilichurls.

It seems that a couple more encampments have been set up during his last flight.

Hilichurls lack many qualities, but persistence was never one of them.

His ear twitched as he considered his next course of action.

He could chase them off.

Wouldn’t be hard at all, considering his power and their frailty. 

But it wouldn’t solve anything would it, not in the long term.

They’d just be back again before long.

The tip of his tail twitched slightly with irritation.

From the outside, he looked the very picture of a sleeping dragon. His azure body curled up in an elegant sprawl, with his head resting on claws.

His eyes were closed, not that he needed them open to monitor the world around him.

As a creature of Anemo, the wind itself were his eyes. He could feel the vibrations of the world around him, it’s humming giving him a perfect sense of what is happening.

And it seems that one foolish hilichurl decided to try its luck today.

He felt the pitter patter of its feet as it approached his resting form.

The former Dragon of the East feigned sleep, and allowed the creature to lower its guard.

He let his breaths slow down, feigning sleep.

The light steps of a particularly adventurous hilichurl approaches his ears.

If he concentrates, he can feel the hum of the celestial curse placed on their body.

He always found it so ironic, that the biggest enemies humanity had to face were those that they created themselves.

A species so desperate for survival, whose greatest strength is in their tenacity and ability to cooperate.

A species whose greatest enemy is ultimately themselves.

Not that dragons did not have their own disputes.

At least, he’s fairly sure that they did.

He was never involved in any himself, having been born near the end of the war between Celestia and dragonkind.

Perhaps that’s what made him so different from the rest of his kin, beside the whole being alive and unsealed part.

He was too young to truly remember what life in Teyvat under the rule of dragons was like.

He remembers some things.

The air was much different, much wilder and ferocious, flying these days is akin to gliding. 

Back then, the ability to fly was one hard fought and learned, one had to prove themselves to the wind that they were worthy of using their power. 

The landscape was more jagged, more free. No neatly trimmed paths or smooth top mountains.

Most of all, the sky.

The sky was different.

There were no stars in the land of dragons.

Only the moon and sun.

A truly different time to be sure.

The sound of footsteps bring him out of his thoughts

Ah, yes the little monster approaches.

He is quite curious on what it plans to do, after all this was no abyss mage, simply a hilichurl, a cursed human.

A trespasser that he was free to deal with as he deems fit.

He can feel it getting closer, the faint hum of the celestial curse on their body gets stronger with every movement it makes.

The desire to tense in anticipation is strong, however the image of a peaceful sleeping dragon is integral for this ruse, tensing up would be too noticeable, especially at this distance.

A moment passes,

Then two.

What is the hilichurl even doing, they’re close enough to touch, yet they just stand their idly as if-

A diary hand reaches out and yanks on his whiskers.

Dvalin’s eyes fly open as he roars, flinging his head up in the air, the hilichurl with it.

His tail lashes out, smacking into one of the collapsed walls, sending puffs of dust and rock raining down.

He leaps to his feet, all pretense of sleep gone. It seems that that daring little monster decided it wanted to pull on his whiskers.

He could still see it dangling onto his through the corner of his eye. 

Growling with anger, the Anemo dragon shakes his head furiously, summoning Anemo power to get this unwanted pest off of his body. 

With a mighty gust, the hilichurl is dislodged, flying off of Dvalin’s whisker.

The screech of the hilichurl that pulled on his whiskers fades into the distance, as its body fades from view.

It seems he had flung it a lot farther than he thought. Considering his remarkable senses, the fact that he can no longer see, nor hear the little monster, well-

 It was their decision to poke a sleeping dragon, or well, pull on one.

The other hilichurls, presumably from that same hilichurl’s camp, all scramble. Their screeches and grunts of panic filling the air.

No doubt hearing his rage at having his appendage pulled. 

And rightfully so, the audacity to disturb the rest of the Erstwhile King of the Skies deserves nothing less than his anger.

He ignores the fact that technically he did allow it to get this close. As well as pretended to be asleep just to see what it would do. 

Even so, the sheer disrespect cannot be overlooked.

With a couple beats of his wings, Dvalin takes to the sky, intent on scattering the rest of the hilichurls that have gathered in the ruins of Decarabian.

He does a couple of loops around the ruins, idly scattering the tribes that have settled there.

It didn’t take long before it was quiet once more.

Nothing more than the sounds of nature to fill his ears.

Quiet once more,

Until a small spark of energy catches his attention.

He peers over the edge of his platform to see the Barbatos and the blonde traveler with their flying companion. 

How they managed to get here without him noticing is truly beyond him.

Regardless, it would be difficult for them to navigate up to him, from their position besides Barbato’s Statue of the Seven

The traveler turned their head to nod at him, whilst Barbatos leaned heavily on his statue, an empty wine bottle clutched in his arms.

He glides down to meet them, careful not to knock them off the platform with the wind.

As he approaches, he can smell the stench of alcohol wafting off of Barbatos.

Dvalin turned to the blonde traveler, “How much did he drink?”

They turned to him with dead eyes. 

“He chugged the entire bottle,”

Dvalin sighed, the air hitting Barbatos, sending his cape into his face.

The wind spirit sputtered, waving his arms at Dvalin in annoyance. 

“Hey, don’t judge me, I’ve had a difficult day,” he whined, face still flushed from the alcohol.

“Oh,” Davlin hummed judgmentally, “I can’t imagine what difficulties you must be facing,”

“He’s not wrong,” the Traveler defended, stepping forward.

The dragon turned his gaze to them.

The blonde haired figure sighed, most likely realizing that Barbatos was too drunk to participate in this conversation.

They opened their mouth and began to explain.

And the world, as he knew it

Changed

~~~

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

I honestly love the story of Durin and Dvalin, made me cry the first time I read it.

Durin's just such a tragic character, all of Gold's creations are to an extent.

This chapter truly is, the calm before the storm.

Ah well, as always my askbox is always open!

Thank you guys so much for reading!

Taglist:

@bunniotomia,@lucid-stories, @ymechi, @chocogi,  @ra404, @ash1, @esthelily, @tottybear, @mmeatt, @quacking-simp, @reemthetheme, @universallyenthusiastsage, @resident-cryptid, @fantasyhopperhea, @thedevioussmirk, @etherisy, @naynayaa ,@mel-star636, @chericia, @aithane, @mmeatt, @xrosegorex, @amidst-the-tempest, @8-sinner-8, @reapersan, @elementalia ,@strangeygirl, @chaoticfivesworld, @scalyalpaca, @avalordream ,@ranshin03, @vvyeislazzy, @wishicouldart, @raykayrei,@izzieg3987, @time-shardz, @nugsanart09, @mavix,@beary-kalkus, @lunarapple, @keirennyx

[rabidline]

Japanese Skaters' Favorite Shoma Uno Programs and Their Reasons

This was in the Figure Skating Team Japan Fan Book for the 2024-2025 season, which had Shoma on its cover along with both a pretty substantial Shoma interview and Stephane interview about Shoma.

For Shoma's retirement, the magazine made a special column to include the active Japanese skaters (and Satoko) messages to Shoma, as well as their favorite Shoma programs. A friend helped in sharing and translating just the favorite Shoma programs part:

Sota Yamamoto: I love so many programs. Loco is the best for me because it’s unique and cool. Turandot 2.0 (2017-2018), when I had a difficult season because of my injury, this program encouraged me. Stairway To Heaven... brushing his hair upward is so cool. Great Spirit and Dancing On My Own (2019 Nationals) He graduated from Grand Prix Tokai and struggled but he could be National champion. I was so moved and almost cried. I love Bolero. Gravity and Air On The G String, he could perform not only powerful but loss of strength and I could learn from him.

Yuma Kagiyama: I love so many programs. Loco is the best. I love Great Spirit so I chose Believer last season (2022-2024 SP). I watched and watched Great Spirit on YouTube and I can skate its step sequence.

Shun Sato: Of course I love Ladies in Lavender. And Great Spirit.

Kazuki Tomono: I love Legends (2015-2016) so much because it’s first SP as a senior skater. His image as a skater changed a lot and it was impressive.

Koshiro Shimada: I love Loco at Helsinki Worlds (2017) the best. And Everything Everywhere All At Once and Bolero. At first Shoma mentioned about Bolero, “It’s so difficult and I can’t.” Finally he could do great performance and win at Worlds (2022) and it was what Stephane wanted to see I think. I was so moved and I almost got goosebumps.

Kao Miura: I love Loco the best because the balance of powerful and sensitive movements is good. I love Bolero because he seems to reach his limits. Not only jumps but each movement were so great and the last he seems to collapse because he skates so hard. I love it so much.

Nozomu Yoshioka: I love 2019-2020 season Great Spirit and Dancing On My Own. Nobody skates for such a number like Great Spirit and it’s so exciting. I like a stop before step sequence and before 3A and it’s so cool program. He struggled first half of the season so I was so moved to see Dancing On My Own at (2019) Nationals.

Tatsuya Tsuboi: I love Turandot 1.0 the best. When I was novice skater I saw his senior debut GPF (2015) and he got a bronze medal. It was so impressive and I was so moved.

Kaori Sakamoto: I love Moonlight. This season he won 4CC title. Second year 4th place, third year 3rd place, fourth year 2nd place, and finally he got gold medal. He seemed very happy on the podium and both program and costume were great. Everything was perfect.

Mone Chiba: I love the last season’s SP, Everything Everywhere All At Once, because I love the atmosphere. His step sequence expresses powerfulness and gracefulness. It’s great program so I feel it too short.

Rinka Watanabe: I love Moonlight because I’d like to express like that. His skating is like a clear (not hazy) night and it’s great.

Rion Sumiyoshi: I love many programs. I love Air On The G String because I sometimes skate it for skating lessons. It’s a very simple music but he can tell a story and he can bring a joy to audience. His technique is great.

Mai Mihara: I love many programs and each has a charm. If I choose one program, I’ll choose Turandot 2.0. Especially cantilever is really great and I was so moved and I almost got goosebumps. Both skating and expression were great.

Hana Yoshida: I have two programs in my mind. If I choose one program, I’ll choose Bolero. I forget the name… small pattern…Great Spirit? I love the step sequence and I’d like to rewatch it.

Yuna Aoki: Turandot 2.0 is so impressive because I love princely costume and I feel his powerfulness from this program. I love it so much.

Wakaba Higuchi: I love Bolero and Turandot so much. I could see Bolero at ice shows many times and it’s impressive.

Satoko Miyahara: I love Bolero the best. Turandot 2.0 is impressive. I also love gala program Padam Padam and I always think it great.

Rino Matsuike: I love Bolero. I used to skate Moonlight, so It’s so special for me. When Mihoko-sensei choreographed this program, she said “When the music started, audience was so focused on his performance from the first moment. (He could bring audience to his world.) When I am training, I think “I’d like to perform like him.”

[autisticlancemcclain]

Lance gets red around him a lot.

It’s strange.

It’s different from when they first started. (First met? Keith’s not sure. Lance is so insistent that they’ve known each other since they were twelve, but Keith thinks he’d recognise someone like Lance, someone who smiled that brightly and laughed so loud. But he doesn’t, and he doesn’t understand why he doesn’t, so he doesn’t think about it. He pretends in his head that they met saving Shiro and that’s that.) When they first started learning each other (that’s a better way to put it), Lance went red all the time, but Keith knew exactly what that was about, could read the hard set of his jaw and the anger making his dark eyes steely. Sometimes he would grin to himself and make the flush on Lance’s cheeks deepen on purpose; say something incendiary and challenging in the most casual one of voice he could manage, just to watch how furious he got, how indignance straightened his spine and squared his shoulders and made his cheeks glow.

He called Lance Rudolph, once, and he went ballistic. It was the first time he ever won a spar of theirs, and half of that was because Keith was laughing too hard to breathe. To this day no one believes Lance when he insists it happened. (Keith does feel bad about that, a little. Everyone seems to think it was just Lance who egged Keith on in the beginning, just Lance who purposely made things difficult, but Keith is grown enough now to admit that he had as much fun pissing Lance off as anyone else would. Well, grown enough to admit it in his head.)

Keith still makes Lance go red all the time, now. The issue is that he doesn’t know how he does it.

They still compete. Obviously. It’s fun and it’s easy and Keith is a fan of things that are fun and easy. That’s why he’s into demolitions. And pod racing.

But the competition no longer has that flare of genuine rage. Lance himself had admitted it, sniffing pompously after a late night spar and informing Keith that he had, apparently, “sucked all the fun out of hating by being endearing or whatever”. He also mentioned something about Keith’s “stupid fucking big round pouty eyes and depressing backstory”, but Keith doesn’t know what to make of that so he shoves it back into the recesses of his mind like many other things, including the first time someone other than his Pa said they loved him, Shiro’s safety lectures, and any and all calculus lessons he has ever sat through.

(It’s a mess back there.)

Keith, too, can admit that the animosity is gone. He no longer wakes up and hears Lance’s voice and considers drop kicking him into a black hole. Sometimes he even hears Lance’s voice and realises he’s smiling on reflex. Now he and Lance hang out. Voluntarily, and a lot. They spar. They swim. They harass Hunk. They harass Pidge. They harass Shiro. They harass all their friends, really. Sometimes Lance uses manoeuvres he’s learnt in sparring to pin Keith to the ground and force weird products onto his face and hair, dodging Keith’s attempts to bite him, preaching about their cleansing qualities or whatever. Sometimes Keith even does it without hissing and generally being a nuisance.

Sometimes Keith follows Lance quietly to the observation, late at night, and sits with him while he cries. He can’t decide how he feels about those nights. He’s not sure if he’s allowed to think about them outside of when they happen.

In all of this, though, Lance’s ruddy face has stayed pretty common. Keith can excuse it when they’re sparring, because it’s admittedly a lot of cardio, but at the same time Keith doesn’t get that red and he’s way paler than Lance is. He can almost kind of excuse it when they swim, for the same reasons.

He doesn’t get it any other times, though. He doesn’t know why Lance goes red at the most innocuous things, like when Keith tells him his hair smells good or his laugh is pretty or he’s actually really good at that nerdy math game Pidge likes, holy crow, I didn’t know you were that kind of smart. Nerd. He doesn’t understand why Lance goes red when he trips and Keith catches him, ‘cause he’s a big klutz, you’d think he’d be used to it by now (it’s not like Keith is going to let him fall. Well, usually not). He doesn’t get why Lance goes red when Keith compliments him in training, because usually when Lance gets complimented he gets a big head about it and preens for an hour.

It’s just strange.

Mostly, though, it’s not that big of a deal. Maybe Lance is just a blushy kind of person. He’s taken to teasingly calling Lance Red, because it’s better than Rudolph, and also because Lance goes scarlet every time he says it, so it’s kind of like he’s a wizard who can make Lance flush on command. Which is cool. Other than that Keith mostly just pretends it doesn’t happen. They hang out too much for Keith to bother. If he questioned it every time, he would go bananas.

“You have icing smeared on your face,” Keith comments on one such hanging out occasion. (They’re plundering the kitchen for the cupcakes Hunk made and specifically forbade them from touching. But Hunk allegedly broke into Lance’s room last week and stole the last of his toner, whatever the hell that is, so fair’s fair.)

Lance pops the last of the cupcake into his mouth then turns to face him. “Where?”

“Here,” Keith says, tapping the left side of his own chin.

Lance, like a dumbass, makes a swiping motion on the left side of his face, instead of mirroring where Keith touched. He misses the icing entirely.

“Left side,” Keith says, exasperatedly.

Lance scowls at him. “That is the left side.”

“No — the other left.”

“There is no other left! There’s only one left!”

Rolling his eyes, Keith reaches over to wipe the icing off for him. There cannot be any evidence on them, after all. When Hunk has a conniption over his missing cupcakes they must play the plausible deniability card so they can snicker about it later.

He swipes his thumb under Lance’s bottom lip, trying to scrape the icing off with his thumbnail. Lance inhales sharply.

“Sorry,” Keith murmurs, softening his grip. He must have scratched him. The icing didn’t come off, though, so he switches tactics and slides off the counter, shifting so he’s standing in between Lance’s open legs and cradling Lance’s cheek in his palm to tilt his head. He rubs his thumb much softer on the stubborn streak of whipped sugar, and that works a little better. He keeps rubbing until finally Lance’s skin is clear, all the half-dried icing now spread on the pad of Keith’s thumb. He licks it off without thinking.

It’s sweet.

Lance makes a strained whimpering noise. Keith flicks his gaze up to meet his face again and is less surprised than he should be to see a flush glowing across his cheekbones, making his freckles seem much darker than they are. His pupils are dilated so wide they nearly swallow up the brown of his irises, and Keith can’t tell if he’s looking at him or through him.

He sighs heavily. “Dude, do you have a condition?”

It takes Lance a long moment to answer. By the time he finally does, his gaze has moved firmly to his lap, neck bent so that Keith can’t really see his face. His ears are still read.

“I’ve got a fuckin’ heart condition,” he mutters.

Keith furrows his eyebrows. That’s weird. He’s seen Lance’s medical scans before ��� he’s in the pods a lot. You’d think that kind of thing would be on there.

“It doesn’t show up on your med scans,” Keith points out. “Is it, like, a genetic thing?”

Slowly, Lance picks his head back up, squinting at him for several long moments. Keith begins to squirm.

“You’re actually slow,” Lance says with an almost awed tone of voice. Which is mean. “Like, genuinely, actually slow. I think there are bubbles in your brain.”

“Hey,” Keith protests, pouting. “I help you commit cupcake heists, and this is how you treat me?”

Instead of answering, Lance continues to stare at him. He almost looks bewildered, which does nothing but make Keith more confused.

Eventually he lets out a long, tired sigh. It is not the first time Keith has heard that sigh. That is a sigh he hears when Shiro finds him throwing up his guts after eating a tub of ice cream out of spite. That’s the kind of sigh he hears from Allura when Keith ignores instructions and boulders through the shocks from the invisible maze to get it done faster. That’s the sigh that says I wish I had a trebuchet to strap you to it and release you into the sun. Keith is very familiar with that sigh, although he usually makes it happen on purpose, or at the very least understands how it’s warranted.

Right now he is completely lost.

“I am going to go bother Coran,” Lance says finally, pushing himself off the counter and walking towards the door. “You are not invited. I will talk to you when I want to strangle you less. Goodbye.”

“Bye,” Keith calls out, head tilted in confusion. He watches Lance go until he disappears down the hallways.

“He is so confusing,” he announces to no one, then walks out the kitchen himself.

[chatsukimi]

ʜᴏᴄᴋᴇʏᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ!ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛᴀᴛᴏʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ⤷ genre: nsfw, fluff, smut ⤷ tropes: doing it in the change rooms, kinda enemies to lovers, feral!gojo ⤷ series (jjk men as athletes)- more coming soon..

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who plays with almost superhuman stamina and precision. he eases through matches, no sweat. everyone knows he'll be scouted by the nation's top teams.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who revels in the cheer of his fan club after each victory (Go Gojo! Go Gojo!) and who's never had a problem with the commentator, until one day he notices a particularly difficult commentary over the speakers. 'second time gojo's missed. is he really worth the clout? who's this gojo, anyway? looks like he's lacking stamina.'

he seethes through his nose.

all throughout the match, it's the same gist. you make some crude remark about the team; he scores a goal and sends you that shit eating grin, whoever you are, behind the speakers; you talk him down; he misses, then gives double the effort to score next time; repeat.

but at the end of the day, though, they lose by a fair margin. his teammate has to drag him away to stop him from throwing a tantrum.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who learns your ex is on his team. that's why you never said a good word about them. he gets passed a photo and his jaw almost drops.

you're... beautiful.

but it doesn't change the fact you'll be commentating the finals.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who recognises you an hour before the match starts, standing beside the rink. he sidles on over. 'so this is the one who took my name and drove it six feet underground?' you turn around, raising an eyebrow at the snowy haired player. your ex wasn't on the best terms with gojo, but any bad commentary was good commentary when that cheater was on the same side. 'hey, so, i heard you broke up with a member of the team. you still like the jersey?'

he notices your eyes checking him out as he shifts closer, letting his minty cologne invade your senses. your throat swallows.

gotcha.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who fucks you hard and fast in the changing room. the door rattles under your weight and you hear curse words and yells at him to hurry up on the other side.

'this doesn't change how i commentate,' you hiss out.

'wasn't expecting you to.' he grits his teeth, pushing you against the wall, ready to fuck you so well it has you switching sides. he bunches up your hands behind your back so the only movement comes from your mouth. 'let me hear you, wanna hear you,' pistoning his hips with the same concentration as when his eyes narrow on the goal. you can't stop the pleas from dribbling out.

look at you, so eager for the enemy to score. he tuts, his blue eyes feral with glee, 'aren’t you professional.’

this time, when his name escapes you in a stutter, so desperate for him to hit that spot it drugs his own mind, let's just say he isn't so bothered.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who, in the daze afterwards, hovers over your lips with an evil smirk. 'spread the good word for me, love'

he helps you find your clothes, picking up his hockey stick left on the ground, tossing you his jersey from the youth national team as he changes into his gear. he returns to the rink as though he had never left. now that's stamina.

one hearty wink at you before closing the door, as though your legs aren't weak below you and one more when he enters the rink.

guess you're back on the team.

HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who secures the win and your number after the match, effectively earning the all around mvp for the day. he is positively glowing when he exits the stadium, and everyone on the team knows why.

... absolutely everyone.

(extra: 'gojo, maybe you went a little far' 'what? i got the commentator back on our side! i won us the game!' 'you screwed naoya's ex' 'it was only for ten minutes! if he's insecure about that, then i think it's a question of upping his game, not downplaying mine-')

[alexanderwales]

I think the worst part of my experience with the internet is when people make bold claims and I say to myself "is that actually true though?" and then, rather than continuing on with my life and letting it lie, I take it upon myself to answer the question to my own satisfaction.

And this is often very difficult and time-consuming, because the thing that's boldly being claimed is complex and nuanced, and there's possibly a grain of truth somewhere that I really would need to go looking for.

I used to have a very Catholic coworker who I'd get in fights with all the time, and he was terrible about providing sources for the things he said, because obviously it was based on an article that had landed in his inbox and it was hard for him to remember all the details, except that he had definitely read it somewhere. So I would take it upon myself to say "okay, what the fuck is this guy talking about" and then eventually I would find the kernel of truth that had led to whatever was in his head. Sometimes this was interesting and worthwhile, but often it was not. On a few occasions, it was just funny/frustrating, because he'd been shared something from the Onion.

(As one example, he had said that Pepsi products contained pieces of aborted fetuses, which was clearly stupid on the face of it. But when I went to go figure out where he'd gotten that from, I learned some stuff about cell lines, and in particular, HEK-293. That cell line comes from the kidney of an aborted (or possibly miscarried) fetus from 1973, and through the magic of biology, became an immortal cell line. This cell line was then used by a company called Senomyx, which had developed a way to test sweetness using them, though so far as I know no one had any proof that they did anything with that particular cell line in association with their partnership with PepsiCo. They certainly weren't putting HEK-293 cells in their drinks. An anti-abortion group then began attempting a boycott of PepsiCo around 2010 on the basis of this partnership, which is how my coworker had wound up repeating to me the claim that Pepsi had aborted fetuses in it. I found this to be a Fun Fact.)

Anyway, tumblr is a particularly bad place for misinformation and bold claims, but today was the first time I failed to stop myself from trying to get some actual sources when someone tossed of a little treat of a fact which did not actually sound true to me. And I didn't even get the answer I was looking for!

It's tangential to this post, but the claim was that sometimes sports were segregated because women were outcompeting men, rather than the reverse. So far as I can find, the answer is "probably false if taken to be anything on the level of a trend", but gymnastics apparently has men and women doing totally different events, and without grabbing a book on the development of gymnastics as a sport, it would be difficult to determine whether the segregation was specifically because men could not compete, rather than some other motive.

The other, more clear-cut example, was mixed skeet shooting, where a woman won a gold medal in the event, then women were barred from competing the next Olympics and a separate women's skeet shooting event was made. Barring other details, this is some sexist bullshit on the part of the International Shooting Union. So I did find evidence of it happening at least once, in a single sport, which was already a sport where women are roughly at parity with men. And if I've found evidence of it happening once, there's a good chance that it's happened more than that. Seems very rare though, and more of a "because sexism" thing rather than "because biological differences". But if I didn't know about that, what else might I not know? Think about what a fool I'd look like if I displayed ignorance of Shan Zhang's 1992 Olympic skeet shooting performance and the subsequent rule change.

The other claim I was trying to track down was "what's the difference in funding for male and female sports, and can we predict how much of an impact that has on performance", which is obviously a fucking huge research question, so I was hoping that someone had done some kind of study that I could read. I don't think there's a bunch of data on how much money is spent on facilities or coaches or whatever, but I was thinking that maybe you could try to find comparable budgets. That would still leave you with some of the social/access/selection problems, but it would at least be something. If the hypothesis was that socialization and funding are the primary reason for the performance gap, we could eliminate at least one of them, and I think there are statistical methods to account for different sample sizes. I was hoping that someone would have done it, or something better than that took an actual knowledge of statistics and sports into account, but apparently not.

FWIW the sports where men and women are at something like parity appear to be those that require endurance, flexibility, or where we wouldn't think there's that much reason your specific body would matter: ultramarathons, equestrian, shooting sports, some archery, and some climbing. It would be weird to me if a difference in funding and engagement and sexism was making a difference in other sports, but not these ones, but I guess I could float some theories if I had to.

I actually do not care that much about these questions, and it gets into a lot of feminist and trans waters that people have strong feelings about, where to me it's just a research issue, trying to find some empirical data. I am including this stuff here mostly for the sake of completeness and because I dislike vagueblogging.