#new tag for anything physical I make like this guy!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshifighting · 2 months ago

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— Synopsis: After a series of graffiti attacks on your bakery, you find out Jihoon is the vandal behind it, frustrated because your shop's success has outshone his grandma's bakery. — WC: 13k — WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, angst, smut, fluff, physical violence (reader hits jihoon with a mop, vandalism), jealousy, emotional conflict, fingering, blowjob, hair pulling, semi-public sex, cock riding, overwhelming, body fluids (cum), no protection, fetish elements—being painted with grafitty during sex, claiming, mention of an enormous cock on the bakery's wall.

Your arms are crossed in a tight clutch as you stare at the front door of the bakery, the black, fresh tags sprayed across the pastel walls like an ugly bruise. It’s the same crap, just a new day. The pink and white of your shop—the delicate aesthetic that drew people in—was constantly being smeared by some low-life with a spray can. Months of this, and all the cameras ever caught was a faceless guy in a black hoodie. Useless.

With a frustrated sigh, you unlock the door, pushing it open with more force than necessary. The day needed to start, vandalism or not. You open the windows, letting the fresh morning air in. At least the floors were clean, thanks to the obsessive mopping you’d done last night. That had become a habit lately, one of the few things you could control.

You grab a bowl, dumping the ingredients for cake batter in with a bit too much force. Your arm flexes as you whip the fouet through the mix, your irritation guiding every furious stroke. It’s therapeutic, in a way—until Mingyu walks in.

“Are you... trying to murder the batter?” he asks, amusement clear in his voice as he sets his stuff in the locker. “You’re about to crack the bowl in half.”

You glance up, still scowling, but the comment catches you off guard. “Shu’up, Mingyu. You would be mixing like this too if someone graffitied your walls for the hundredth time.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t be so dramatic about it,” he teases, walking over to grab his apron. “It’s just a little paint. You act like the world’s ending.”

“It’s not just paint! It’s every day with this. And it’s not even good graffiti. It’s just some bullshit tags that don’t mean anything.”

Mingyu laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t know, some people might say you’re overthinking it. Maybe the artist is just misunderstood. Maybe there’s a deeper meaning.”

“‘Eat shit’ has no deeper meaning,” you deadpan, pushing the bowl to the side. “And I’ve got a cake due at 3 p.m. Can you please help me with the fondant? I need to leave on time for class.”

“Gastronomy waits for no one,” he quips, moving to help you.

You sigh, rubbing your forehead with the back of your hand. “Exactly. And if I’m late, I’m fucked. So let's get this done.”

Mingyu chuckles, but he gets to work, his hands already busy with rolling out the fondant. “You ever think of just... catching the guy yourself? Stake out the place or something?”

“Yeah, because that’s a great use of my time,” you mutter. “I’ve got school, work, and now this mystery asshole. Besides, what am I supposed to do? Sit outside all night and wait to get jumped?”

“Hey, you might scare him off with your mixing technique alone.”

You snort. “At this point, I’d rather beat him over the head with the bowl.”

— // NEXT DAY // —

You’re bent over the counter, carefully arranging the pies and cupcakes in the vitrine, when the bell above the door jingles. The sound makes you straighten up automatically, pasting on your best “welcome to my bakery” smile.

“Good morning! What can I get you today?” you ask, looking up to see Mrs. Yang, one of your more... particular customers. She smiles politely, her bag clutched in one hand, and takes her time approaching the counter.

“Good morning, dear,” she says, her voice too sweet for whatever she’s about to say next. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about... the situation outside.”

Here we go.

You nod, still smiling like your life depends on it. “Yes, we’ve been dealing with some, uh... graffiti issues lately.”

Her lips purse. “It’s quite the eyesore, don’t you think? Having that sort of thing on the storefront isn’t good for business, especially with such a nice bakery like yours. People might get the wrong impression. I wouldn’t want to bring my friends here if it continues.”

You feel Mingyu’s eyes on you from the back, wide and alarmed like he’s bracing himself for whatever smartass remark is about to leave your mouth. You can almost hear him holding his breath.

But instead of snapping, you swallow it down. Barely.

“I understand, Mrs. Yang. We’re working on getting it removed as soon as possible,” you say, your voice calm and professional, even though your brain is screaming, What the hell do you want me to do? Hand-paint the walls every night?

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll handle it,” she replies with a thin smile, “You always do such a lovely job here. I’ll have two of the lemon tarts, please.”

“Of course,” you say, grabbing the tarts and ringing her up, every muscle in your body tense as you try not to explode. “That’ll be $8.50.”

As she leaves, Mingyu sidles up behind you. “You alright? That looked painful.”

You shoot him a glare. “Shut up before I throw a tart at you.”

He just laughs. “Hey, props for not biting her head off. That’s growth.”

Your day only goes downhill from there.

An order comes in last-minute, right when you're about to head out for a cake delivery, forcing you to juggle too many tasks at once. The fondant on the cake cracks just as you’re trying to finish it, and you nearly drop the entire thing when you’re loading it into the car. By the time you deliver it, you're ten minutes late, and the client is tapping her foot like you ruined her wedding or something.

As you drive away, you notice that some idiot in the parking lot nicked the side of your car with their door. The scrape is fresh, ugly, and just another thing you don’t have time to deal with.

By the time you make it to the university, you’re on edge. Every little thing is pissing you off—the late delivery, the car, Mrs. Yang’s passive-aggressive comments replaying in your head.

You stomp into the classroom, tossing your bag on the desk as you take your seat. Your friend, Jiyeon, looks up from her notes, immediately catching the “I’m about to lose it” vibe radiating from you.

“Woah, woah... Don’t talk to me,” you say, waving her off before she even opens her mouth.

She raises her hands in mock surrender, exasperated. “Okay, okay, damn. I wasn’t even gonna say anything!”

From the corner of your eye, you catch the guy sitting next to you glancing over. He’s half-smirking, like he’s amused by your bad mood. You roll your eyes as you pull your utensils from your bag.

“The hell you lookin’ at?” you snap, not really in the mood for whatever attitude he’s giving you.

He just raises an eyebrow, unfazed. “Nothing. Chill.”

You huff, biting your tongue. “Whatever, man.”

As class starts, you try to focus on the lecture, but it feels like everything is stacking up, one annoying thing after another. You’re counting down the hours until you can get out of here and back to the bakery, where at least you can take your frustrations out on some dough.

[...]

The bakery is finally quiet. You’ve set the doughs to rest for tomorrow, turned off the colorful lights, and now it’s just you, the mop, and the hum of the radio. There’s something peaceful about the dark bakery—like it’s resting, too, after a long, chaotic day. The floor’s slick beneath the mop as you drag it in lazy strokes, the apron around your neck, always too tight, was finally off.

It’s quiet out there too. Rush hour’s over, people are strolling by in pretty scarves, leaving their cubicles for the day. Not that you’d ever want that life. That could never be you—this was your space, your bakery. You’d rather be here, mopping your own floors than stuck in some windowless office.

Even if your apron’s been digging into your neck all damn day. You rub at the sore spot, sighing, when—

Wait.

What the fuck? You squint, eyes narrowing as some guy steps right up to your bakery window, a paint can in hand. You watch in disbelief as he starts spraying. Right on your wall. Again.

You don’t even think. You just move. The front glass door slams open so hard the bell almost flies off, the aggressive clatter echoing behind you as you stomp out, mop still in hand.

“YA! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

The guy barely turns, but it’s too late. You’re already swinging. The wooden handle of your mop cracks across his back with a satisfying thud, and he lets out this startled grunt, almost tripping over his own feet. You swing again, harder this time, and it echoes across the empty street. Even the homeless guy across the road—the one you always give leftover tarts to—jumps in his spot, startled.

“What the fuck, you asshole! You think this is funny?!” you yell, swinging the mop at him again as he ducks, letting out an “ouch” with each hit. “You keep tagging my walls, and I’m the one paying for this shit! Do you even know how much it costs to get this cleaned? Huh?!”

“Ouch, fuck! Stop, STOP!” he stammers, arms up, trying to shield himself.

You don’t stop. You’re done with this day, done with this week, done with this punk-ass artist ruining your bakery’s vibe. “You piece of shit! You’re dead! I’m gonna shove this can so far up your—”

“What the hell?!” the guy stumbles, trying to dodge your swings, but you’re relentless.

“You think you can just waltz in and spray whatever dumb shit you want? You’re gonna clean this up with your tongue, you little—”

Before you can deliver another hit, the guy turns around, and his hood falls back. Your breath catches.

“Jihoon?!”

The guy grimaces, rubbing his back where you’ve practically beat the soul out of him, but it’s definitely him. The same Jihoon you snapped at in class today, the same Jihoon you barely tolerate during group projects. The fucker who’s been defacing your bakery.

You blink, still holding the mop in a death grip. “So it was you, you fucking idiot?! You’ve been doing this the whole time?!”

He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, still smirking like this is some kind of joke. “Well... I wouldn’t say the whole time.”

“You—” You jab the mop handle at him again, making him flinch. “You’re going to clean this up. I don’t care how. Hell, you can start with your tongue if you’re so attached to your damn art.”

“Woah, woah.” He holds his hands up in surrender, backing up a step. “I didn’t think you’d take it so personally. I mean, it’s just paint.”

“Just paint?” you repeat, incredulous. “I’ve had customers complain, the city’s sent me notices, and you’re out here calling it just paint? Are you fucking insane?”

“Come on, the tags aren’t that bad.”

“Oh, no. They’re shit. Like, the worst shit I’ve ever seen,” you bite out.

You cross your arms, staring Jihoon down as he leans awkwardly against the wall.

“You know what? I should call the police on you.”

His eyes go wide, his posture straightening instantly. “No, no, no! Come on, don’t do that!”

You slowly pull your phone from your back pocket, waving it in front of him as you point a finger at his chest. “I think it’s about time you get what’s coming to you.”

Panic flashes across his face, and he lunges forward, trying to grab your phone, but you thrust the mop at his chest, pressing it against him to keep him at bay. “Back off!”

He stumbles back, frowning, his lips jutting out in a sulk. “I don’t wanna go to jail! I don’t wanna sleep in the cold!” His feet stomp on the ground like a child throwing a tantrum, the whole thing looking ridiculous enough that anyone watching might think this was an opening scene from The Office.

You ignore his whining and start dialing, but he won’t shut up. “Please! You can’t let me go to jail over some paint!”

“You should’ve thought about that before tagging my bakery again.” You cut him off, giving him a pointed look. “Why the hell have you been doing this? And don’t think I didn’t notice the enormous dick spray-painted on the back of my shop either.”

Jihoon stays quiet for a moment, avoiding your eyes as he shifts on his feet. His hands fidget with the hem of his sweatshirt, and you narrow your eyes, sensing something off.

“Well? Spit it out,” you demand.

He mumbles something, so low you can barely hear.

You raise an eyebrow, stepping closer. “What?”

His face goes red, and he mutters again, “Only if... you let me try one of your tarts.”

You blink, leaning in closer. “What was that? Speak up, punk.”

Jihoon sighs, cheeks practically glowing. “I said... I want to try one of your tarts, okay?!”

For a second, you just stare at him, completely dumbfounded. Then, you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Are you serious right now?”

He nods, keeping his head down, looking smaller and more pathetic than you ever imagined he could.

“You’re telling me... you come here, paint my walls like a little delinquent, and now you want a fucking tart? You—”

You breathe in, trying to summon every ounce of patience you have left. The tarts are your best sellers—the buttery crust, fresh fruit, and creamy filling that made your bakery famous not just in the neighborhood but all over town. People raved about them, coming from across the city just to get their hands on one. Hell, students from your college made regular stops just to bring some back to class.

Your shoulders sag in exasperation, but you eventually gesture toward the door. “Fine. Get inside.”

Jihoon looks up, surprised but not daring to push his luck. You flip the lights back on, the bakery coming to life once more. Heading to the back, you grab a fresh tart from the display, muttering curses under your breath as you shout, “Which one do you want?”

“Strawberry!” he calls out.

You grab a pink plate and set the tart delicately in the center, placing it on the counter with one of your signature gold-colored forks and a neatly folded napkin. When you walk over to the table Jihoon picked, nestled in a corner, you notice him glancing around the bakery with a curious expression, taking in the space like he’s never seen it properly before.

He sits down, eyeing the tart suspiciously at first. You cross your arms and sit across from him, your foot bouncing impatiently under the table. You can’t help but suppress an inner smile—every customer had the same reaction to their first bite, and you’re secretly waiting for it.

Jihoon picks up the fork, hesitantly cutting into the tart. As soon as the buttery crust gives way, the scent of fresh strawberries and sweet cream fills the air. He takes a bite, and his eyes widen almost immediately. He chews slowly, like he’s processing the taste, his expression changing from sulky to... amazed.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs under his breath, glancing up at you, eyes wide. “This is... really good.”

You lean back, crossing your arms tighter. “Yeah. That’s what people keep saying.”

He takes another bite, and then another, clearly trying not to devour the whole thing in two seconds. His face softens, the usual smugness gone, replaced by genuine awe. He looks around the bakery again, understanding slowly sinking in. The care you put into every detail—the soft lighting, the warmth, the way the scent of fresh-baked goods fills the air. It’s no wonder other bakeries in the area couldn’t compete.

No wonder people kept coming back.

Jihoon finally looks up, sheepish but impressed.

You shift in your seat, arms still crossed, and stare at Jihoon as he wipes his mouth with the napkin, setting it down with a quiet sigh. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his posture heavy with something unsaid.

“So… you gonna tell me why you’ve been punking my bakery?” you ask, your voice less biting than before, though the edge is still there.

Jihoon hesitates, glancing out the window for a moment like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he sighs again. “We had a bakery, me and my grandma. It was right across the street.”

You frown, your head tilting slightly as you turn to glance outside through the window. Yeah, you remembered that place. It had that old-school charm, the kind of bakery that felt like a cozy throwback to the 60s, with its wooden benches and rustic signage. It had been there before you moved into the neighborhood. You even remembered the old lady that used to work there, always with a smile, though her hands were slow and her voice even slower. The front of the bakery had been boarded up for months now, closed and forgotten by most.

Jihoon continues, his voice lower. “Before you opened up, we did well. My grandma’s tarts were, like, the thing around here. People came from all over to buy them.” He pauses, and you see his shoulders drop slightly. “But after your tarts took off… we started losing customers. A lot of them.”

You don’t say anything, but the tension in the air thickens. You swallow, suddenly feeling an uncomfortable weight in your chest. You remember seeing them sitting outside their shop, the once-busy bakery now quiet as yours boomed with success.

“We tried to keep up,” Jihoon says, his voice a little shaky. “But no one came in anymore. People stopped buying our stuff. My grandma and I used to just sit there on the bench, watching people line up outside your place while we were lucky to sell a couple tarts.” He laughs, but it’s hollow, like he’s mocking the memory. “She’d pretend it didn’t bother her, but I knew. I knew it killed her inside.”

You feel a knot form in your stomach, guilt creeping in even though you know it wasn’t really your fault. Still, hearing it from him, the weight of their loss, makes you look down at the table, feeling suddenly small.

“What was I supposed to do?” you ask softly, the words barely escaping your mouth. “This was my dream too.”

Jihoon nods, almost like he understands, though there’s still bitterness in his tone. “I know. And it’s not like you did anything wrong. Your bakery is… well, people love it. They loved your tarts. And I guess, after a while, I just got so… mad.”

He looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. “We had to close the bakery. We couldn’t keep up. And I started working in the city, doing graffiti, whatever I could to make ends meet.” He shakes his head, laughing without humor again. “And when I saw people still lining up here, day after day, it just… pissed me off. So I started tagging your walls. Stupid, I know.”

You feel a lump in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you harder than you expected. You glance back out the window, seeing the boarded-up bakery in the distance, and it stirs something deep inside. His frustration, his anger… it all makes sense now.

“I didn’t understand,” Jihoon says, his voice softer now, almost defeated. “I couldn’t figure out how your tarts were better than my grandma’s. It didn’t make sense to me. We’d been here for years. How could people just forget about us?” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression sad. “But now I get it. I guess… your tarts really are better.”

The way he says it, with that empty laugh, hits you right in the chest. There’s no joy in his voice, no real acceptance, just this sad realization that his family’s legacy had been outdone by you.

You lower your gaze, feeling awful. “Jihoon…” You want to say something, anything, to ease the guilt gnawing at you, but what could you even say? You worked hard for this. It wasn’t like you meant to destroy his bakery. But it’s clear now that, in a way, you did.

“I never meant for this to happen,” you mumble, your voice quieter than you intended. “It’s not like I wanted to take business away from you guys.”

He waves it off, but his eyes don’t meet yours. “I know. It’s just how it worked out. You did what you had to do. I just… I didn’t know what else to do but get mad at you for it.”

The silence between you is thick, heavy with unsaid things. Jihoon keeps his gaze on the table, his fingers playing with the edges of the napkin, while you try to process the weight of everything he just said.

And as much as you want to feel justified—after all, you didn’t do anything wrong—there’s a part of you that can’t shake the sadness settling deep in your chest. You glance out the window again, at the closed shop across the street, and for the first time, you wonder what it must’ve been like for them, watching your bakery rise while theirs fell apart.

Jihoon’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I don’t know… it’s dumb. You didn’t mean to screw us over. I just… I just miss the way things used to be.”

You breathe in deeply, trying to push down the growing lump in your throat.

The silence between you two lingers, stretching out like the stillness of the night outside. You can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator behind the counter, the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall. You breathe in, thinking of something to say, and for a moment, Jihoon glances up at you, expectant. But when you close your mouth again, he looks away, fingers fidgeting with the napkin.

Finally, you place your hand on the wooden table between you, the sound of your fingers brushing the grain breaking the silence. "What kind of tarts did your grandma sell?" you ask, voice steady but curious.

Jihoon frowns, clearly taken off guard by the question. "Savory ones," he says after a beat, as if testing the waters of the conversation.

Your brow lifts in surprise. Savory tarts weren’t really your thing—you specialized in the sweet stuff. "Savory?" you lean in a bit, curiosity piqued. "Like what?"

Jihoon seems to hesitate, unsure of where you’re going with this, but then he starts listing them off, voice soft at first but growing stronger. "Palm heart or olives, ham, and cheese, sometimes we’d do quiches with bacon and caramelized onions, even some seasonal ones with pumpkin or sweet potato… Stuff like that."

You sit back, letting the list of flavors settle in your mind, gears turning. You’d never considered offering savory tarts before—your bakery was known for its sweets. But maybe that was part of the problem. There was a whole side of the tart game you hadn’t even touched.

"You think you could make some of those flavors and bring them tomorrow?" you ask, your tone casual as you rest your chin in your hand.

Jihoon frowns deeper, confused, his head tilting to the side. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"

You chew your lip for a second, glancing around your bakery, imagining it filled with the rich, hearty smells of savory tarts instead of the usual sugar and cream. "I was thinking maybe we could try something… an experiment," you say, eyes lighting up as you lean forward. "You bring the savory ones, I’ll sell them in the display, right alongside the sweet ones. See how people like them."

Jihoon blinks at you, processing your words, and for a moment, you see a flicker of disbelief in his eyes, like he can’t quite wrap his head around what you’re suggesting. "You… you wanna sell my grandma’s tarts here?"

You nod, the idea already snowballing in your mind. "Yeah, why not? People around here are crazy for the sweets, but maybe they’ve just never had the chance to try something savory. And you know I don’t do that kind of thing, so… it’d be different." You pause, watching his face, which is slowly starting to shift from confusion to something brighter. "We’ll call it a collab or something. Give them a taste of what your bakery used to offer."

His eyes light up, sparkling with excitement as the idea sinks in. The hesitation that was there before vanishes, replaced with genuine enthusiasm. "Really?" He leans forward, hands gripping the edge of the table. "You think… people would like them?"

"If they’re as good as you say they are," you grin, tapping your fingers on the table, "then yeah, I think they will."

Jihoon’s face softens, and for the first time tonight, a real smile spreads across his lips. It’s small at first, but there’s something genuine and almost childlike about it, like you just handed him a lifeline he wasn’t expecting. "They’re really, really good," he says earnestly, nodding. "My grandma used to get people coming back for them all the time. They were, like, her specialty."

"Then bring enough for tomorrow," you say, feeling a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth despite yourself. "We’ll put them out, see what happens. Maybe it’ll bring some of her old customers back."

He looks at you like you’ve just flipped the entire script on him. The guy who’d been tagging your bakery out of spite now suddenly has a shot at redemption, and it’s written all over his face. You can see the wheels turning in his head, his excitement barely contained.

"How many do you need?" he asks, voice filled with an eagerness you hadn’t seen in him before.

You pause, thinking for a second. "Start small—maybe a couple dozen to test the waters. If they sell out, we’ll know we’re onto something."

Jihoon nods rapidly, his excitement bubbling over. "I can do that. I can bring, like, the spinach and feta ones. Those were super popular. And maybe the mushroom ones too. People loved those." He’s rambling now, his hands gesturing wildly as he talks. "You think they’ll like them? I mean, people around here are kinda obsessed with sweet stuff, but these… these are different."

You laugh softly, watching him get more and more animated. "I think if they’re as good as you say, people are gonna be lining up for them. And who knows? Maybe savory tarts will be the next big thing."

Jihoon sits back, grinning like he can’t believe this is real. "I can’t believe you’re actually doing this." His eyes flicker over the bakery, taking in the pink and white décor, the polished countertops, the faint smell of sugar still lingering in the air. "I thought you’d just tell me to fuck off, honestly."

You shrug, smiling slightly. "Well, I did wanna hit you with a mop earlier. But… I don’t know. It seems like the least I can do after everything."

He stares at you, his grin softening into something more serious, more genuine. "Thanks," he says quietly, and you can tell that he means it. "I… I really judged you wrong."

You wave him off, but inside, there’s a warmth spreading, something that feels almost like… relief? Like maybe this little experiment could be more than just business—it could be a way to right some wrongs.

"Just bring your best game tomorrow," you say, standing up from the table. "If your grandma’s tarts are half as good as you say, I’m sure people will love them."

Jihoon stands too, still grinning like a kid on Christmas. "Oh, they will. Trust me." His eyes sparkle with that confidence again, and for the first time, it feels like you’re seeing the real him, not the guy who’s been tagging your bakery out of anger.

As you walk him to the door, you glance back at the kitchen, already imagining the savory tarts lining the shelves next to your usual sweets. This could be something big, something new—something that might even help mend the bridge between you two.

Jihoon pauses at the door, turning back to you with a grin. "Tomorrow, then. You won’t regret this."

The next morning, Jihoon arrives at your bakery with a box, the warmth of the tarts and quiches radiating from inside. You grin as you lift the lid, the smellof the buttery crust wafting out. Carefully, you place them in the display, arranging them neatly beside your sweets.

Jihoon moves towards the door without saying a word, but before he can leave, you raise your voice, “Where are you going?”

He pauses and steps back in, bending down to pick up a bucket of paint remover and a brush from outside. “Gonna get rid of the mess,” he says with a shrug, shaking the supplies in his hand.

You scoff, leaning against the counter. “Looks like hitting you with the mop actually worked.” You raise an eyebrow, arms crossed.

He freezes, his eyes widening a little, like he just remembered something. “Hey! You!” he protests, gesturing to his back. “I’m my back its black and blue thanks to you! My back its ruined.”

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Serves you right,” you shoot back, and Jihoon huffs, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes as he heads outside to scrub off the tags.

As the morning rush starts, a couple of your regulars approach the counter, eyeing the new items. One of them, Mrs. Park, furrows her brow. "What’s all this?" she asks, nodding to the savory tarts.

You flash her a smile, "We’re doing a little collab with Jihoon’s family bakery. They used to sell these savory tarts, and we thought we'd give them a try here. You should taste them, they’re amazing."

Mrs. Park raises an eyebrow but picks up one of the tarts anyway. Within minutes, word spreads, and before you know it, the dozen savory tarts you put out are gone—people even leaving with extras for home. You lean against the counter, watching the buzz, satisfaction building in your chest.

As the rush dies down, you step outside where Jihoon is wiping down the wall, now tag-free. You smirk. "Sold everything," you say, watching his reaction.

His eyebrows shoot up, eyes wide. “Really?!”

You nod. “Yeah, they went faster than I thought. Even Mingyu couldn’t keep his hands off them,” you say, pointing through the window where Mingyu is, mid-bite, munching happily on a tart behind the counter.

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he looks at Mingyu, then back at you. "I’ve got more ready at my grandma’s place. I can go grab them now."

"Do it," you say with a grin, waving him off. “Bring a lot. I don’t think these’ll last long.”

An hour later, Jihoon returns, but this time he’s not alone. His grandma, the sweet old lady you remember from the bakery across the street, is with him. You light up when you see her.

"Mrs. Lee!" you greet her warmly.

She smiles, her eyes crinkling as she gives you a gentle hug. "You’ve done so well with this place," she says, looking around the bakery.

As you help unload the box of fresh tarts, you see Mingyu’s eyes widen as he watches you set them out again, his mouth practically watering. He reaches for one, but you swat his hand away.

"Those are to sell," you scold playfully, but before you can follow up, Mrs. Lee reaches up and pats Mingyu on the head.

"Eat, eat, you’re a big boy. You need it," she says, and Mingyu, towering over her, grins sheepishly as he lowers his head.

"Yes, ma’am," he says with a boyish smile, clearly charmed.

With the tarts restocked, the afternoon turns out to be just as busy as the morning. People are coming in and out, curious about the new savory options, and before you know it, they’re sold out again.

After the rush dies down and the shift ends, you pull out the cash notes, counting how much you’ve made for the day. You walk over to Jihoon, handing him a stack of money.

"Here, this is how much we sold, minus the cost of ingredients," you say, but Jihoon waves his hand, shaking his head.

"Nah, don’t do that," he says, clearly uncomfortable. "It’s your bakery. I’m just helping out."

You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms. "You think I’m not gonna pay you for your grandma’s recipes? Don’t be stupid."

He fidgets, glancing down. “I don’t deserve it,” he mumbles, but you cut him off.

"Come on. You think of reopening your grandma’s bakery again?"

He hesitates, then nods slowly. "I’ve been thinking about it. But there’s a lot to clean up, fix…"

You lean back, thinking for a moment. “Well, while you figure it out, how about you use my bakery to sell your savory stuff? We can split the profits and see how it goes. Maybe that way, you’ll get enough to fix it.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen, gratitude spreading across his face. "You… you’d let me do that?"

You shrug. "Why not? People love your stuff, and I’ve got space. Plus, this way, we both win."

His lips part, disbelief still etched on his face, but then his shoulders relax, and a small smile forms. "I don’t know what to say. Thank you."

"Don’t thank me yet," you say, grinning. "We still gotta get through tomorrow."

He laughs, the tension that had been hanging between you since the whole graffiti incident finally easing. "I guess I’ll be back here early with more tarts, then."

"Bright and early," you reply, with a playful nod. "And don’t forget to bring your grandma too. Mingyu might cry if she doesn’t show up."

Jihoon chuckles, glancing at Mingyu who’s in the back, still wiping tart crumbs from his face. "I think you’re right about that."

As Jihoon and his grandma leave, you’re left standing in your bakery, the warm glow of the lights reflecting off the now pristine windows.

The next morning, Jihoon shows up right on time, his grandma’s small hand wrapped around his arm as they step into the bakery. There’s something heartwarming about the sight—the way she leans on him, and how he effortlessly balances the heavy box of tarts in his other hand. You catch a glimpse of the pure affection between them, the kind only grandparents seem to have for their grandkids, and it makes you feel... softer.

Jihoon flashes you a quick, almost shy smile as he sets the box on the counter, the warmth of the freshly baked tarts instantly filling the room. You move to help him, opening the glass case of the vitrine. As you lean in to arrange the tarts, his arm brushes against yours, just barely. It’s nothing, really—just a quick touch—but you bite back a smile anyway. The warmth of it, the quiet ease, feels nice. Comfortable.

Outside, the rain begins to pour, pattering against the windows. It's not the gloomy kind of rain, though—it’s the kind that makes people crave warm spaces, a place to settle into with a coffee in hand. Your bakery, with its soft yellow lighting and the sweet smell of tarts mingling in the air, feels like the perfect refuge. You can already see a few people huddling under umbrellas as they make their way inside, the little bell above the door chiming each time.

Jihoon steps back, his eyes following yours as you arrange the tarts in perfect rows. “Looks good,” he murmurs, glancing over at you.

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to sound casual, though your voice is a bit quieter than usual. You clear your throat. “Rain’s gonna bring people in. They’ll want something warm.”

Almost as if on cue, the door swings open with a gust of wet air, and your best friend stumbles inside, panting, her umbrella flung into the holder by the door. She shakes the rain off her coat and makes a beeline for the counter, eyes wide.

“I heard you’re selling savory tarts now,” she exclaims, nearly breathless.

You shoot her a look, half-amused. “Word spreads fast around here, hm?”

She leans on the counter, eyes scanning the new additions in the vitrine like she’s sizing them up. “You know me. I’ve got my ear to the ground,” she says, grinning. Her gaze shifts to Jihoon, who’s still standing behind you. “And you,” she says, her tone turning teasing, “finally decided to be useful, huh?”

Jihoon just rolls his eyes, but you can see a flicker of amusement there. “I’m useful in ways you don’t even know,” he mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for you to hear, but it makes you smirk.

Your friend raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sure,” she quips, pulling out her wallet. “Alright, give me one of those tarts. Let’s see if they’re worth the hype.”

You grab a tart—spinach and cheese, her favorite—and hand it to her on a small plate. She takes one bite, her eyes widening dramatically. “Oh my god,” she says, mouth half full. “Okay, this… this is dangerous. You can’t sell these, I’ll be here every day.”

You laugh, watching her devour the tart. Jihoon leans against the counter next to you, arms crossed, a little smug. “Told you they were good,” he murmurs.

The steady rain outside only adds to the cozy vibe, making the bakery feel like a warm little haven. More customers trickle in, shaking off their umbrellas and ordering coffees to go with the new savory tarts. Some regulars ask about the new addition, and you tell them about the collaboration with Jihoon and his grandma. It’s casual, like you’re letting them in on a little secret, and soon enough, people are lining up to try them.

As you work, you can feel Jihoon’s presence behind you, quietly helping out where he can—refilling the display, wiping down tables, clearing plates. It’s kind of funny, actually. Not long ago, this same guy was spray-painting the walls of your bakery like a punk, and now here he is, setting tarts in your vitrine, his arm brushing against yours, acting like part of the team.

Your friend finishes her tart and slides the plate back toward you, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Okay, I gotta go before I eat the whole case,” she says, shooting you a wink. She glances at Jihoon as she grabs her umbrella. “You better keep bringing these, or we’ll have problems.”

Jihoon smirks, giving her a mock salute. “I’ll keep ‘em coming.”

As she leaves, you watch the bakery fill with warmth, laughter, and the soft hum of conversations. The rain taps against the windows, the outside world grey and wet, while the inside is alive with comfort. You lean against the counter, watching Jihoon’s grandma chatting with a customer. It’s kind of perfect, in a way—everything just falling into place.

After the lunch rush, Jihoon catches your eye, his expression a little sheepish. "They’re really selling, huh?"

You smile, a little proud. "Yeah. Told you they’d be a hit."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Guess I underestimated this place."

“It’s kinda nice having you around... even if you are a pain in the ass.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes but not disagreeing. “You just like bossing me around.”

“I do,” you admit with a grin. “And you’re getting pretty good at following orders.”

Jihoon laughs, shaking his head as he picks up a rag to wipe down the counter. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll bring more tomorrow."

The evening was quiet, just the hum of the fridge and the faint swoosh of the mop gliding across the floor. You were halfway through cleaning when your foot nudged something under the counter. Frowning, you crouched down and pulled out a box—heavy, clinking inside—and when you opened it, there they were. Paint cans.

You tilted your head, staring at them, then shouted, "Jihoon! What the hell is this?"

He popped out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Uh... well, I was thinking... maybe the bakery could use a little—art,” he said hesitantly, his eyes darting from the cans to you.

"Art?" you raised an eyebrow, hands resting on your hips. "You're not gonna draw a dick on the front door, are you? 'Cause if that's your plan, Jihoon, I swear—"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “No! It wasn’t me, alright? That was one of my friends.”

Your eyebrow shot up even higher. "So you had your friends tag my bakery too?"

He suppressed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I yelled sorry, like, a million times already.”

You shook your head, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Unbelievable.”

Jihoon stepped closer, eyes scanning your expression carefully. “Look, I promise—no dicks. I was thinking... something different. Something that matches the vibe here. I could paint something... that looks like you.” His gaze lingered on you, analyzing your features like he was already sketching you out in his mind.

You sat back, considering it. The idea of graffiti on your pristine bakery wasn’t exactly appealing, but there was something about Jihoon’s offer... the way he was looking at you, not like a cocky vandal but like someone who wanted to create something for you.

You frowned, arms crossed, skeptical. “You? Graffiti something that looks like me? You’re kidding.”

He shrugged, stepping back slightly. “Let me show you. I’ll do it on the back wall. Something pastel, something sweet—like your bakery.”

You huffed, but curiosity got the better of you. “Fine. But if it looks like shit, you’re cleaning it up, Jihoon.”

Outside, the air was crisp, and the dim lights of the street barely reached the back alley behind your bakery. Jihoon grabbed the cans, setting them down with a focused energy, his jaw tight. He was different when he worked on something—serious, quiet. You watched as he started to shake one of the cans, the metallic rattle filling the space.

He started to sweat after a few strokes of the spray, his arm flexing each time he pressed the nozzle. The light from the back door illuminated his face, and when he flicked his hair to the side, it reminded you of those boys from high school, the ones who all had that Justin Bieber haircut. You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

He stepped back, turning toward you, his eyes searching your face. “So... what do you think?”

You tilted your head, focusing on the paint. It was a pastel-colored slice of cake, detailed with delicate swirls and shadows that made it look almost real. “The... strawberry looks a little weird,” you pointed out, walking closer.

Jihoon let out a soft laugh, stepping aside. “Come help me then. You fix it.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Me? I don’t know how to spray paint, Jihoon. It’s gonna look like a five-year-old did it."

He waved it off, walking toward you with the can in hand. “Nah, you can do it. C’mere.”

Before you could protest, he was already pulling you out of the chair, placing the can in your hand. “Just like this,” he murmured, stepping behind you. His chest pressed lightly against your back, close enough that you could feel his breath on your ear. His hand moved to yours, guiding your fingers to press down on the nozzle, and the paint sprayed out in a clean line. "Here," he murmured, his voice low. "Press gently... just like that."

“See?” he whispered, his voice right in your ear, and you could feel the concentration in his breath, how calm it was. “Not so hard, is it?”

You were too aware of everything—his breath, his hand on yours, the way his body pressed just slightly against yours, not enough to feel too much, but enough to make your pulse pick up.

His hand, now on your waist, gave you the faintest squeeze, right where your skin showed between your top and your jeans, right where your shirt had ridden up a little. It was an absent touch, almost like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. But you did. His fingers were warm, the pressure light but there. Your breath caught in your throat for a second.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. His hand never moved, just stayed resting on your waist, a quiet but steady reminder of how close he was. The paint kept flowing, and you realized you were barely focused on the mural anymore. It was all Jihoon. The way his body moved with yours, the brush of his breath against your ear.

“Jihoon,” you whispered, voice low, just to see what kind of reaction you’d get. "You sure you're not just getting handsy with me to avoid doing the work?"

He huffed a small laugh, right in your ear, his breath warm. “You think this is me being handsy? I’m just trying to teach you something.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back a little more, just enough to feel him tense up. His hips were snug against yours, and you could feel the smallest reaction in his body, the way his chest rose sharply as you pressed back into him.

"Uh-huh,” you said, feigning innocence. “So that’s why you sound like you’re having the best time of your life right now? Not exactly subtle, Jihoon.”

He scoffed, his mouth so close to your ear that you flinched a bit. "Says the one who's shivering under my arm like I’m doing more than just helping you paint.”

You let out a soft chuckle, your head leaning back just a little, the movement making his face brush against your shoulder. You could feel his breath catch again as your body pressed back.

“Jihoon…” you said, voice dropping an octave. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying real hard not to moan in my ear.”

His breath hitched, and this time, you felt it. His body tensed, the can in his hand wavering slightly as he pressed the nozzle. He was trying—trying so damn hard to stay focused on the paint, but your words were getting to him. His grip tightened on the can.

He lowered your arm, stopping the spray of paint, and you could feel the tension crackling between you both. His hand lingered on yours for a moment, and then he turned his head slightly, his lips brushing the edge of your jaw as he whispered, “You keep teasing me like that, I’ll forget the painting and pin you to this wall.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the low rumble in his voice, letting your ass push against him again. You give him a slow, teasing smile, turning your head just enough to look at him out of the corner of your eye. “And if I told you I wouldn’t mind?”

Jihoon’s eyes flicked down to your lips, then back to your eyes, in a blink, he turned you around, the paint can clattering to the floor as his hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

His lips hovered over yours for just a second, his breath mingling with yours, tension thick in the air. “You're playing with fire, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You smirked, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the heat of him through his shirt. “Then burn me.”

His lips crashed against yours in a starved kiss, his hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his body pressed so close it felt like there wasn’t an inch between you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him down harder into the kiss, feeling the tension melt away from his shoulders. His hands roamed over your back, slipping under your shirt, his touch burning your skin as he kissed you deeper, rougher, like he couldn’t get enough.

His body pressed you against the wall, his hips fitting perfectly against yours, and you could feel his cock coming to life. The slight tremor in his hands as they roamed your sides, the way his breath hitched when you kissed him harder—it was all there, barely restrained.

His lips were warm, tasting faintly like the strawberries and honey from earlier, and every time you tried to pull back for air, he chased you, his lips crashing back against yours like he couldn’t stand the space between you for even a second.

Finally, when you both pulled away for breath, your foreheads resting together, you smirked, your breath still uneven. “You okay there, Jihoon? You look like you’re about to lose it.”

He chuckled, his hand still gripping your waist, but there was no humor in his eyes. “You talk too much,” he muttered, pulling you back in for another kiss before you could even think of another comeback.

You could feel the wetness of his tongue against yours, slick with saliva that started to pool at the corners of your mouth as you sucked it in deeper. Jihoon’s hand was firm, gripping the curve of your ass, his other arm wrapped tight around your waist as if he couldn’t let go even if he tried.

You stumbled backward in a tangle of steps, the two of you moving like you were magnetized to each other, lips fused together, completely unwilling to separate. His hand squeezed your ass hard, making you gasp into his mouth. That sound—the desperate little moan you couldn’t hold back—had him groaning too, swallowing the noise like it fueled him, pressing you harder against the door to the back of the store.

Jihoon fumbled for the handle, blindly opening it while keeping his mouth glued to yours. You barely noticed when he shoved you through the threshold, into the bakery’s quiet salon. He didn’t break the kiss, not even for a second, not until your back hit the counter and he pressed himself against you again, trapping you between him and the cold wood.

You were breathless, desperate to kiss him harder, to get more of those sweet, low moans he made when your lips connected just right. It wasn’t until you felt his hand slipping between you that you realized what he was doing. Somehow, in the heat of it all, he had already undone your jeans, his fingers deftly sliding the button free, his hand dipping lower, teasing the waistband of your panties.

"Fuck, Jihoon," you panted, head thrown back as his lips trailed along your jaw. You shivered when you felt his hand slipping under the lace, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin. You felt your sink boiling, the warm air from the bakery making you sweat down your neck.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, more like moaning.

The jeans you still had on were tight, too tight, and it made it impossible for you to spread your legs the way you wanted. The friction of his hand between you was good, but not nearly enough.

You shifted against him, trying to spread your legs wider, your breath coming out in frustrated little pants. "Jihoon," you managed, voice almost pleading, "jeans... get them off."

His lips curled into a smug grin against your skin, and you could feel him smirk before he pulled back slightly. "So bossy," he murmured, but he didn’t hesitate. His hands went straight to your jeans, tugging them down with quick, rough movements, the denim catching awkwardly on your thighs before he yanked them free.

With your jeans finally gone, he spread your legs wide, his eyes dark and hungry as they trailed over you. His hands gripped your thighs, positioning you exactly how he wanted before slipping his fingers right back under the waistband of your panties, but this time, there was no hesitation.

He slid one finger through your slick folds, groaning low when he felt how wet you were for him. "God, you're soaked," he breathed, almost like he was in disbelief. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow circles that had your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more.

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips. "Just... please, Jihoon—more."

He slid a finger inside you, the sensation making you gasp, your legs instinctively spreading wider for him. You wanted more of him, needed it, and when he curled his finger just right—not even forcing it, he felt the spongy spot, you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat.

"Like that?" he whispered, voice hoarse as he added another finger, filling you up and making your whole body arch into him. His other hand gripped your thigh, holding you steady as he worked his fingers inside you, each thrust deeper, more insistent.

"Fuck, yes," you gasped, barely able to form words as he sped up, his thumb still rubbing circles over your clit, making you see fireballs with closed eyes. "Just... just like that."

His hand moved faster, fingers curling and stroking deep inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the quiet room. Your hips bucked against him, chasing the sensation, wanting him to take you higher, needing him to push you over the edge.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear, his breath hot as he whispered, "I could do this all night... but I think you want me to make you come, don’t you?"

You whimpered. "Please, Jihoon," you breathed, voice shaky. "I need it."

His fingers quickened their pace, thrusting deep, hitting that spot over and over until your whole body trembled. He could feel how close you were, could see it in the way your thighs quivered, the way your breath came in short, desperate gasps.

"Cum for me," he murmured, thumb pressing harder against your clit, feeling the nerve throb as his fingers worked inside you. "Cum all over my fingers."

You rest your elbow on the counter, arching your back in a way that makes the slick sound between your thighs almost obscene. It’s impossible to ignore. You know exactly how wet you are, and palm, right there pressing down the mound of your pussy—god, you can feel it, burning hot. Your breath hitches, and you throw a hazy glance in his direction, catching his smirk, that cocky look on his face. His lip is trapped between his teeth, eyes dark and full of heat, and that’s all it takes before you come apart.

Your orgasm hits hard, ripping through you. Eyes squeezing shut, your body tenses, thighs trembling as your hips jerk involuntarily against his hand. You hear him coaxing you through it, his voice a low murmur, his fingers keeping steady pressure, coaxing every last wave of pleasure out of you.

“There you go… good fuckin' girl. Just like that, keep comin’ for me… shit, so fuckin’ good,” he mutters, fingers slowing just enough to keep you riding the high.

Your chest heaves, your breaths coming in short, ragged bursts as you slowly open your eyes again. He’s staring at you—taking in every inch of you. The smirk on his face hasn't faltered, only deepened. There’s something dangerous about the way he looks at you, like he's already planning his next move.

“You think you can turn around for me?” he asks.

You shake your head, still catching your breath, but a wicked grin spreads on your lips. “Nah. I’ll fall to my knees and suck you off instead.” Your voice is steady despite the way your legs still tremble. His eyes widen just for a second before he sharpens a breath, a harsh inhale that lets you know you’ve hit the right nerve.

You don’t give him time to respond before you’re on your knees, fingers already undoing his belt, pulling his jeans down just enough to free him. You look up through your lashes, watching his jaw tighten as his cock springs free, already hard and leaking at the tip. His breathing’s heavy, uneven.

You run your tongue along his length slowly, collecting the sticky precum, teasing the underside before wrapping your lips around the head. He moans immediately, one hand gripping the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles turn white.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth, hips jerking forward as your lips slide further down his cock. The sound he makes is a whiny moan, almost of frustration as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks. You can feel the pulse of him on your tongue, the way his body reacts to every little move you make.

He grips your hair, tugging gently as you bob your head, setting a slow rhythm that has him panting. His hips start to move, barely restrained, thrusting shallowly into your mouth. “Goddamn… ngh—fuck! From hittin’ me with a mop to this?” His voice cracks on a laugh, but it’s breathless, shaky. “Didn’t think you’d… suck me off like this…”

You pull back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, lips slick, before looking up at him, smirking. “Better than the mop, right?”

His laugh turns into a groan, the sound vibrating through his chest as you take him deep again. “Fuck yeah… way better than the fuckin' mop.” He’s losing his composure now, hips moving a little more desperately, the hand in your hair tightening, guiding you as you work him harder, faster.

His moans grow louder, less restrained, and you can feel the tension building in his body, the way his muscles tighten as he gets closer. You hollow your cheeks one last time, sucking him in deeper, tongue working every inch of him until you hear him curse under his breath, his head falling back as his body shudders.

“Shit—” His moan is drawn out, almost too much for him to handle, as he loses himself in your mouth, his hips bucking forward uncontrollably. You keep going, pushing him right to the edge, savoring every last sound he makes until he finally pulls you off, breathless and wrecked.

“Fuck... you’re gonna kill me with that pretty mouth,” he pants, grinning down at you, still catching his breath.

You pull back for a second, lips slick with spit, catching your breath before you go back in, this time with a wicked grin. His cock twitches in your hand as you stroke him slowly, teasing, just enough to keep him on the edge.

“So…” you start, voice low, looking up at him with a dangerous gleam in your eyes. “How are you gonna fuck me, huh? Gonna be good to me, or…” You drag your tongue along the underside of his shaft, making him gasp before taking him back into your mouth, sucking harder, wanting to hear him stutter. “… or you gonna fuck me like you mean it?”

His breath hitches, and he swears under his breath. “I—fuck, I—” His hips jerking toward your mouth, but he’s not quite there. The pressure is building, you can feel it, the way his muscles tense, the way his grip in your hair tightens.

But before you can push him too far, he suddenly pulls you off with a gasp, his cock red and leaking at the tip, his body shaking from the almost-orgasm. “Stop, stop, fuck—”

You raise an eyebrow, lips swollen as you sit back on your heels, panting, teasing. “Could’ve just let me finish you off,” you murmur, licking your lips slowly as you watch him struggle to catch his breath.

He grins, though his expression is tight, like he’s holding onto control by a thread. “Not gonna let you win that easy,” he mutters. He helps you up, hands firm but delicate as he lifts you to your feet. Your knees wobble a little from the discomfort of kneeling on the hard wooden floor, and he notices, his thumb brushing gently across the soft skin.

“They hurt?” he asks, glancing down at your knees, frowning just a little.

You shake your head, smirking. “I’ll live. But you owe me a good fuck for that.”

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna make it up to you.”

You let him guide you back against the counter, his hands already sliding down to the waistband of your panties, hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling them down tossing it on the floor. He pauses just for a second, eyes flicking between your bare pussy and your face, his breathing heavy.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Gonna make you scream.”

You shiver, feeling his cock press against your thigh as his hands move to grip your waist. His fingers are rough, impatient. You can barely think straight when he turns you around, pushing your chest flat against the cold countertop. The contrast of the cool surface and his hot skin makes your breath hitch, your body already aching for him.

He groans softly, positioning himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock, rubbing it along your slick folds as you grind back against him, impatient.

“Fuck—please, just—” You barely get the words out before he thrusts into you, filling you up completely in one swift movement. The stretch is intense, but it’s exactly what you needed, the delicious burn making you gasp as your fingers dig into the counter.

He groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulls back and thrusts again, setting a relentless pace. “That good enough for you, hm?”

You can barely answer, the only sounds leaving your lips are desperate moans as he fucks into you, hard and fast, just like he promised. “F-fuck, Jihoon… yes—just like that.”

He leans down, his chest pressing against your back as his lips brush your ear. “You feel so fuckin’ good… so tight, fuck.”

Your body trembles under his, the pleasure building so quickly that you can barely keep up. "Jihoon—" His name leaves your lips in a broken moan as you start to lose control.

Your breath is ragged, chest heaving as you lick your fingers, letting them trail down your slick body. The moment your fingers find your clit, Jihoon freezes. His cock still buried deep inside you, but it’s like he's hypnotized by the way you touch yourself. You know he’s watching, eyes dark with hunger as you start to circle your clit, finding that perfect rhythm that makes your legs weak. There’s something so intoxicating about him just watching you, letting you take control of your own pleasure while he stays inside, keeping you full.

"Fuck, that’s hot," he mutters, his voice husky and rough as he leans over you, his lips grazing your ear. "You look so fucking good like this."

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, his words fueling the fire burning low in your belly. Your mind flashes back to everything between you two, from the first time he tagged your bakery walls, scowling like you were the enemy, graffiti cans in his bag, the way he barely looked at you when he spoke.

Now look at him, look at you—sweat-slicked bodies moving together, his fingers pulling your hair. The teasing exchanges that turned into this—tangled limbs in the very place you swore you'd kill him if he ever touched. Now, all you can think about is how good he feels inside you, how much you crave more.

His hips start to move again, slow, smooth rolls that make your whole body tingle, but he keeps his hands steady on your hips, letting you keep that perfect rhythm on your clit. The sound of your wet fingers moving in time with his thrusts fills the room, and it’s obscene, but fuck, it’s so good.

“What do you want me to do?” he murmurs against your ear, his voice vibrating through you, sending shivers down your spine.

God. Hot. So fucking hot.

You could ask for anything. Him fucking you against every surface in the bakery, bending you over the counter, the tables, hell, maybe even hanging from the goddamn chandelier if it were possible. But right now, with the way his cock fills you and your fingers work your clit, you only want one thing.

“Pull my hair.”

His hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair, and he gives it a firm tug. The sharp pleasure shoots you, and your body arches against him, hips pressing back to meet his next thrust. The way body rollsl, smooth, matches the pace you’ve set with your fingers. It’s perfect, it’s so fucking good.

His hips snap against you harder now, and you can feel his restraint slipping. He’s getting close, the way his moans get rougher, the way he’s tugging your hair a little more desperately. You know he’s just as on edge as you are.

“Jihoon…”

He moans sly. He knows exactly what he's doing to you.

You hum, breathless. Something so ridiculous comes to mind, and you can’t believe you’re going to say it, but fuck it.

“Can you… paint me?” You’re not sure where the words come from, but once they’re out, you can’t help but smirk.

He hesitates for a second, his hips stuttering before he recovers. “What?”

You bite your lip, half-laughing through your moans. “You heard me. Paint me. Grafitti me. Whatever. Do it.”

He’s still chuckling, his chest pressed against your back as he slows down, but you can feel the horniness in the way his cock twitches inside you. He is very into it. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

You laugh, but it’s breathless. “You’ve been tagging my bakery for weeks. Might as well make it official.”

He groans, biting his lip as he slides out of you for a moment, leaving you feeling suddenly empty, needy. You turn your head, watching as he reaches for one of the paint cans you knocked over earlier, shaking it a few times. The sound of the metal ball rattling inside echoes through the small space, making your heart race faster.

“You sure about this?” he asks, but there’s a grin on his face, his cock still hard and wet, glistening in the dim light.

You arch your back, pushing your ass out toward him, wiggling a little for good measure. “You scared?”

He shakes his head, biting down on his lower lip. “Not even a little.”

Then, with one hand steady on your lower back, he leans in, the cold metal of the spray can grazing your skin. You hear the hiss of the paint as he presses down on the nozzle, feeling the cold spray hit your skin. It’s not the same as the heat between your legs, but it sends a thrill through your body nonetheless.

“Hold still,” he mutters, focused, but you can hear the grin in his voice. He’s enjoying this—maybe a little too much.

You laugh, a shaky sound as the paint settles on your skin, the smell of it filling the room. “What are you even writing?”

“You’ll see,” he says, voice teasing. The spray continues, and then, after a moment, he steps back. “There. Perfect.”

When he’s done, he pulls you back onto his cock all in once, making you gasp as the pleasure returns full force. “Red suits you,” he says, his voice whiny. You can feel his eyes on you, taking in the sight of you painted, fucked, completely his in this moment.

You look over your shoulder at him, breathless. “What did you write?”

He smirks, thrusting hard enough to make you cry out. “My name,” he says simply. “Right across your ass.”

The sound that leaves your throat is half-laugh, half-moan. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but you can’t deny how fucking hot it is, the thought of his name on you, like a claim.

He watches the paint dry quickly, the faint sheen of it on your skin as you move against him. The thought of cleaning it off flickers in his mind, but fuck, the idea of you walking around with his name stamped across your ass, hidden inside your jeans as you go about your day—a part of him wants it permanent, a tattoo maybe, to mark you in a way no one else could see but him. His. Completely.

His hand slides up your body, fingers sneaking under your shirt and bra until they’re squeezing your tit, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you yelp and splatter your hand onto the counter for balance. Your legs are shaking as his thrusts get rougher, messier, the slick sound of him filling you echoing in the quiet bakery.

You moan out his name, “Jihoonie…” and he fucking loses it. Every time you call him that, it gets to him. The way you say it, needy and teasing, like it was meant to wreck him.

He grunts in response, pulling your hair again to tilt your head back against his chest. Your eyes roll, pleasure coursing through you like fire, and your pussy clenches tight around his cock, sucking him in deeper.

You try to hold yourself up, but your legs are jelly, barely able to stand. “I’m gonna… fuck, Jihoon,” you gasp, your body trembling. You’re on the edge, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly, ready to snap at any second.

He pulls you back harder, his chest flush against your back, his mouth right at your ear as he growls, “Cum for me, baby. Fuckin’ do it. I wanna feel you.”

His words, the rough sound of his voice, the way he’s completely owning you—it pushes you over the edge. You shatter around him, your body convulsing as your orgasm slams into you. Your pussy clenches tight, milking his cock, and you scream his name, your voice echoing through the empty bakery.

He groans deep in his chest, thrusting through your orgasm, chasing his own orgasm. The way you squeeze him, the way you moan and tremble in his arms, it’s too much. He pulls out at the last second, just barely, his hand jerking his cock as he cums, thick ropes spilling onto your ass, painting over his name in red.

You’re a mess, both of you—paint, cum, sweat sticking to your skin—but you can’t bring yourself to care.

His hand slides gently down your back, soothing the tremors that still ripple through your body. “Fuck,” he mutters, voice still shaky. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck, completely different from how rough he was just moments ago.

You breathe out a laugh, still catching your breath. “Think we’re gonna need more than a mop to clean this up.”

Jihoon chuckles, pulling back slightly to admire the mess he made. “Yeah,” he says, “But I gotta say… seeing you with my name on your ass? Kinda want it permanent.”

You tilt your head back to look at him, a lazy smirk on your lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

His smirk matches yours as he tugs you closer, his hands still resting on your hips. “Maybe,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours. “Maybe more than I should.”

Jihoon sulks, his face twisted in irritation as he presses the paper towel against your ass, muttering under his breath about how he ruined it. You can hear him grumbling, the cum smudging the once-clear letters of his graffiti like some kind of art project gone wrong. He’s so focused on trying to clean it up, but all he’s doing is making a bigger mess, the red paint mixing with the white streaks, swirling into a chaotic, almost laughable design.

You, on the other hand, can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face. The whole situation is just too ridiculous—the great Woozi, all serious and brooding, now pouting like a kid who messed up his school project. You rest your arms on the counter, the cool surface grounding you after everything, and glance over your shoulder, still half-naked from the waist down, shaking your head.

“Hey,” you snicker, pushing up onto the counter, bare skin still tingling from what just went down, “come on, take a picture for me.”

He glances up, narrowing his eyes in that grumpy way of his, but he’s not about to argue. With a sigh, he reaches out to take your phone, swiping it from your hand like it was a burden. He shakes his head, but there's the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, waiting as he squats a little to get the right angle. His breath is still slightly ragged, cheeks flushed pink, but he’s focused now, swiping a thumb across the screen before lifting the phone to snap a pic. You hear the click, followed by his low mutter. “Fuckin’ smudged.”

“Let me see,” you laugh, reaching out for the phone. He hands it over with a huff, standing there, arms crossed, while you inspect the damage.

There it is. Bold, bright red, smeared all over your ass. “Woozi,” right there in the middle, smudged but still totally readable. The first “W” is clear, but by the time you get to the “zi,” it’s a messy blur of paint and cum, like he tried to rush through it at the end. You burst out laughing, the sound bouncing off the walls of the empty bakery.

“Woozi?” you choke out between laughs, glancing up at him. “You really went with that?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes, cheeks burning a bit now. “What? It’s better than my actual name, isn’t it?”

You squint at the screen again, biting your lip to stop the next wave of laughter from spilling out. The smudge really does make it funnier. It's like his little alter ego tried to make a grand appearance but ended up getting dragged through a mess of his own creation.

“Woozi,” you repeat, grinning as you shake your head. “So now I’m walking around with your vandal name on my ass?”

He shrugs, still pretending to sulk, though you can see he’s fighting back a smile too. “Thought it’d be… symbolic or something. Besides, no one’s gonna know what it says. It’s all smudged now.”

“Oh, they’ll know,” you tease, lifting the phone to show him the picture again. “It’s clear enough, trust me. Woozi’s gonna be famous for something else entirely after this.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, great. Exactly what I need. My name on your ass, and you showing it off to the world.”

“Not showing it off to the world,” you smirk, leaning back on the counter. “Just, you know, keeping it for personal reasons.” You give him a cheeky look, watching as his eyebrows raise in mild curiosity.

Jihoon moves closer, sliding his hands over your hips again, thumbs brushing the sides of your thighs. “Personal reasons, hm?”

“Yup,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too wide. “Might just stare at it whenever I need a good laugh. Or maybe when I need to remember how well you… fuck.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes again, but there’s a smirk pulling at his lips now. “You’re real funny, you know that?”

You nod, still grinning like an idiot. “Yeah, but you love it.”

“Mm,” he hums, stepping even closer, so close that your legs naturally part to let him stand between them. “Love it, huh?”

You raise a brow, tilting your head. “Yeah, love it. You, though?” You press your palms to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt just a bit. “You’re sulking because you didn’t get the masterpiece you wanted.”

His hands grip your waist, and he leans down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’m not sulking,” he whispers, voice dripping with faux irritation. “I just didn’t expect my art to get ruined by…” He pauses, pulling back slightly to give you a teasing look. “…circumstances.”

You snort. “Circumstances? Jihoon, you came on it.”

He tries to hold back a laugh, but it slips out anyway, his chest vibrating against your hands. “Yeah, well, you didn’t exactly help the situation. You’re the one who—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if he’s trying to erase the memory of what just happened.

You grin, tugging him even closer by his shirt. “Say it. I’m the one who what?”

He chuckles. “You’re the one who kept calling me ‘Jihoonie’ like you were trying to kill me.”

“Oh, that’s on me?” you laugh, giving him a playful shove. “You loved it, don’t even lie.”

“I did baby girl, I did.”

You hold on to him, tired from working the whole day and from… fucking in the workplace too.

“But don’t think this makes us even. You still hit me with that damn mop.”

The next few days were nothing short of chaos—an exhilarating rush of sweet and savory tarts flying off the shelves, and new recipes you and Mrs. Lee concocted together, bringing fresh buzz to the bakery. The scent of freshly baked goods filled the air every morning, pulling in crowds, while the constant hum of the oven working overtime had become your new normal.

One morning, Jihoon arrives early, the sun barely peeking over the rooftops, casting a soft golden hue over the quiet streets. He strolls in, wiping the sleep from his eyes, hair a little mussed but looking determined to work.

As soon as he steps inside, he spots you standing near the counter with Mingyu. You're talking animatedly, your hands gesturing as Mingyu grins at something you said. His big frame blocks most of your view, so Jihoon immediately veers toward the vitrines to see how the tarts are doing. He doesn’t want to interrupt whatever you’re saying to Mingyu, but he's definitely curious.

He gets to the counter and freezes. The vitrines… they’re empty. Not a single tart left. Not even the little label card for the savory tarts, the one that proudly displayed the flavors he’d worked so hard to perfect.

His brows furrow, and he turns to you, half in disbelief. “Hey, where’s all the savory tarts?” he asks, trying not to sound like he’s panicking a little.

You and Mingyu exchange a quick glance before you turn to Jihoon, biting back a smirk. “Oh, yeah... about that,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. “We had to stop selling them here.”

Jihoon blinks, caught off guard. “What?” He steps closer, eyebrows knitting together. “Stop selling them? What are you talking about?”

You sigh dramatically, playing it up. “They were just taking up too much space, you know? Not enough room for the sweets and everything else. Figured we’d move on to other things.”

Jihoon stares at you, his eyes flicking between your face and the empty case. You can see the gears turning in his head, confusion, then frustration. “But… they were selling well. Why would you—?”

Mingyu pipes up, poorly holding back a laugh. “Yeah, dude, it was wild. People just stopped caring about them, I guess.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “No way. They were doing so well just yesterday—” He stops, eyes narrowing at Mingyu's grin. Then he looks back at you, finally sensing something’s up. “Wait… what’s going on?”

You can’t help it. The corners of your lips twitch, and then you crack, bursting into laughter. “Come on, Jihoon. Just follow me.”

He follows you, still a little skeptical, his pace hurried as he tries to keep up with your sudden excitement. When you lead him out of the main bakery, his confusion only grows. You guide him around the corner to a neighboring shop space you’d kept quiet about.

Jihoon stops dead in his tracks the moment he sees the sign hanging above the door: Lee’s Tarts. His eyes go wide, scanning the large windows where people are already lined up outside, some chatting excitedly while others peek through the glass to get a look at the new place. And right inside, behind the counter, Mrs. Lee is standing tall, her hands expertly working as she serves up savory tarts to eager customers. The place is buzzing, the line practically spilling out onto the street.

“What the hell...” Jihoon mutters, blinking in disbelief.

You nudge his arm playfully. “Surprise.”

He turns to look at you, his expression still caught in shock. “You opened a shop?”

“Well, technically, Mrs. Lee opened the shop,” you grin. “I just helped.”

Jihoon shakes his head, still processing. “This… this is for her?”

“Yeah, for both of you,” you say, folding your arms, satisfied with the look on his face. “Your tarts were way too good to just stay in one little display case. Now they’ve got their own home.”

Then, without warning, he turns to you, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into a tight hug.

“Holy shit,” he mutters into your hair, squeezing you so hard it almost knocks the wind out of you. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes sparkling warmly, something that you rarely see from him.

“You deserve it, Jihoon. It was all you.”

His lips curl into that soft, genuine smile that’s rare but so worth it when you see it. “Guess we’re gonna be pretty busy, huh?”

“Guess so,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Better get used to it, Woozi.”

You and Mingyu handle the morning crowd in your bakery, but every now and then, you steal glances through the window at the new Lee’s Savory Tart shop next door. The line of people doesn’t seem to stop; every time you look, it’s like there are more. Jihoon’s name is already making waves, and it’s only been a few hours since the doors opened.

Someone at the counter clears their throat, and you turn back, wiping your hands on your apron. A woman leans over the display case, eyes scanning the rows of sweets. “Hey, don’t you have those savory tarts? The ones with the spinach and cheese?”

You nod, smiling. “Not here anymore, actually. We’ve got something even better now.” You motion with your thumb toward the window. “Just next door. The savory tarts have their own shop now, Lee’s Tarts. You’ll find all the flavors there—probably even a few new ones.”

The woman’s eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh! I didn’t know they moved! I was looking forward to trying them again.”

Mingyu, wiping down the counter behind you, pipes in with a grin, “Yeah, you’re gonna want to head over there before the line gets longer. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

The woman glances outside, spots the line, and her face shifts to one of mild panic. “Oh god, it’s already long.”

You chuckle. “Better get in there while you can. They’re selling out fast.”

She nods quickly, a little flustered, and rushes out the door, making a beeline for the shop next door. As the door closes behind her, you share a look with Mingyu. He’s smirking, arms crossed, leaning casually against the counter like he owns the place.

“You’re really sending our customers away like that, huh?” he teases, shaking his head. “What are we gonna do when everyone’s over there?”

You roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh please, you know people will still come for the sweets. Besides, Jihoon’s shop is practically ours. Same team, right?”

Mingyu grins wider. “Yeah, I guess. But damn, the guy’s getting popular fast. Never thought I'd see the day where Jihoon had groupies for tarts.”

You laugh, glancing out the window again, and sure enough, more people are queuing up outside the Lee’s Tarts storefront. “I know, right? It’s kinda surreal.”

Another customer steps up to the counter, a man in a suit, adjusting his tie as he peers at the empty spot where the savory tarts used to sit. “Excuse me, do you still have those mushroom and leek tarts?”

You shake your head, smiling.

[...]

You lean against the counter, crossing your arms and watching through the glass again. There’s something deeply satisfying about seeing people excited for Jihoon’s tarts—almost like watching a small victory unfold before your eyes. It’s hard not to feel proud.

Mingyu glances at you, brow quirked. “You think he knows how big this is yet?”

You shrug, still watching the customers flow in and out of the shop next door. “Maybe. He’s probably too busy to even think about it right now.”

Mingyu snorts, pushing off the counter. “Yeah, well, let’s just hope he doesn’t get all cocky now that he’s got his own place.”

You smile softly, shaking your head. “Nah. That’s not him. If anything, he’s probably stressing about making sure everything’s perfect.”

As if on cue, the door to the bakery next door opens, and Jihoon steps out for a quick breath of air. He’s in his apron, hair falling into his eyes, looking a little sweaty but in control.

He glances over to your shop and catches your eye through the window. For a second, his expression softens, and he gives you a small, appreciative nod.

You wave back, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. Then, before he can get too sentimental, he’s back inside, ready to tackle the next wave of customers.

As the day wears on, the steady flow of customers in both shops never really stops. You keep handling the orders, but every once in a while, someone comes in asking for the savory tarts, and you point them next door, grinning every time at how fast Jihoon’s new shop is becoming the talk of the town.

By the end of the day, when the last customer has left and the door finally swings closed, you take a deep breath, leaning against the counter, watching the lights flicker off in Lee’s Tarts through the window. Jihoon steps out again, this time wiping his hands on his apron as he locks up for the night.

He crosses the sidewalk and steps into your bakery, looking utterly exhausted but somehow content. “Busy day?”

You smile. “You could say that. You?”

Jihoon lets out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Never thought tarts could be this stressful.”

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist in a brief hug. “Well, looks like you’re stuck with it now.”

He smiles down at you, that soft look back in his eyes as he pulls you in for a kiss—quick and sweet this time, just a little stolen moment before the work starts all over again tomorrow.

From behind the counter, Mingyu makes a gagging sound, dramatically covering his eyes. “God, you two are disgusting.”

As you roll your eyes, Jihoon leans in close, his lips brushing your ear with a low murmur. “Maybe we should celebrate... you know, properly. You, me, that freaky side you try to keep in check—let’s see if I survive tonight.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his, a smirk pulling at the corner of your lips. “Is that a challenge, Jihoon?”

He chuckles, breath hot against your skin, his hand squeezing your hip suggestively. “Only if you’re up for it. I might not walk straight after, but I’m willing to take that risk.”

[...]

The next thing you know, you're in a motel room, Jihoon having insisted that the best way to celebrate was somewhere far away from work, where neither of you had to think about baking for once.

You’re on top of him, straddling his hips, thighs caging him, riding him so hard it’s like you’ve forgotten how to go slow. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard knocking softly against the wall with every thrust, but all you can hear is Jihoon’s moans—loud and desperate.

His pale skin is already flushed pink, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Fuck... you're gonna break me," he gasps out, voice strained, eyes half-lidded and desperate. His head falls back against the pillow as you ride him harder, his lips parted in a silent moan. "I can't... shit, you're too good."

You lean down, your hair falling around your faces, your lips brushing his ear as you tease, “You’re not tapping out already, are you?”

His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his hands slipping down to grip your ass, trying to hold you still for a moment, but you don’t let him. You push back against him, harder, faster, and his groan rips through the small motel room. “Fuck, I’m serious... gonna fucking break...”

“You’re the one who wanted to celebrate, remember?” You dig your nails into his shoulders, moving with an intentional grinding roll of your hips, making you two shiver at the same time. "Now take it."

He almost sobs at that, his hands tightening on your waist, his head falling back as his hips buck up into you. The noises spilling from him—those choked-off moans and heavy breaths—made your lower belly boil, making you even bolder. You grind down, angling just right, and Jihoon lets out a sound that's more a whimper than anything.

You bite your lip, holding back a laugh as you grind down harder, feeling his cock twitch inside you. “Look at you. Jihoonie, you're so fucked out. What was that about me breaking you?”

He groans loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as his hands grip your thighs tighter, knuckles white from the pressure. “Shit—”

You lean down, your mouth brushing against his ear, your voice a sultry whisper. “Maybe you’ll survive if you’re lucky.”

That’s all it takes for Jihoon to melt completely. His hands slide down your body, clenching desperately as his entire body tenses beneath you. His hips stutter, a long, ragged moan tearing from his throat as he finally cums, body trembling as he cums hard, buried deep inside you.

For a moment, you just let him ride it out, watching the way his chest heaves, eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss, his body still twitching from the orgasm. You slow your movements, giving him time to catch his breath.

When he finally opens his eyes again, they’re hazy, half-lidded with exhaustion. He looks up at you like you’ve completely destroyed him, which, to be fair, you kind of have.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “You really are going to break me.”

You smile, leaning down to kiss him softly on the lips, your hips still gently rocking against his. “Can’t break my Jihoonie.”

He covers his face, whimpering, cheeks flushing up as if they couldnt get more red.

“If you call me that again, I'll paint your face.”

“At least it's not my bakery.”

[...]

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching through the window as Jihoon crouched outside, focused, the spray can in his hand hissing with each stroke of paint. The tart he was working on looked almost surreal—like it could pop right out of the wall, the pastry perfectly golden, the filling a burst of deep reds and oranges, with olives vibrantly on top. It was almost too pretty for a bakery wall, but it was Jihoon, and somehow, it worked.

"You're staring again," Mingyu's voice broke through your thoughts, and you barely turned your head as he leaned against the counter beside you, his stupid teasing grin stretching across his face.

“Shut up, i'm not,” you muttered, but even you could hear the weakness in your voice. Your eyes stayed glued to Jihoon, his hands moving quickly, confidently, as he added more details to the tart. a few people stopped to admire it, heads turning as they passed by, and you could see them whispering to each other, clearly impressed. he really was talented.

“Uh-huh," Mingyu’s voice showing that he was doubting everything you say, “You know, if you’re gonna stand there drooling, you might as well just go out there and sit on his lap while he paints.”

You shot him a glare, cheeks heating up. “Mingyu, fuck off.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh come on, just admit it. You’ve been staring at him all week. It’s obvious. The way you look at him? Please.”

You bit your lip, eyes sliding back to Jihoon outside. He had stood up now, switching cans, his fingers stained with vibrant shades of pink and yellow. There was something about watching him work, about how focused he got—His brows furrowed, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he leaned in close to get the details just right.

And, god, after yesterday when he finished the cake on the front of your shop… you were pretty much done for. You hadn’t even realized how long you'd been staring until he'd caught your eye, giving you that little smirk that made your stomach flip. And yeah, the way he insisted on going around the whole damn city to find the perfect pastel colors to match your aesthetic? It was sweet. Way sweeter than you wanted to admit.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, waiting, and you let out a long, frustrated sigh, finally caving. “Fine. okay, Yes. I fucking like him. Happy now?”

His eyes widened in mock surprise, but he was clearly pleased with himself. “Oh my god, really? Who would’ve guessed?”

“Oh, shut up,” you sulked, crossing your arms tighter across your chest and turning your gaze back to Jihoon, who was now adding some final touches to the tart's crust. The sunlight hit him just right, highlighting the sharp angle of his jaw, the veins in his forearms as he shook the can. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was annoyed as hell with him, and then… Yeah. Here we are.”

Mingyu chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of this. “I think it was when he convinced you to let him spray that cake on your wall. You looked like you were about to strangle him, but then you didn’t. You just stared at him like he’d hung the moon or some shit.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny it. “Yeah, well… I guess it was kinda cute. He really went all out with that cake. You know he circled the whole damn city for those colors?”

“Yeah, he told me,” Mingyu said, smirking. “And now look at you, all whipped for him.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair, trying to push down the feelings that were bubbling up again. “God, why am I even telling you this? I don’t need you making it worse.”

ou sighed, glancing out the window one more time, watching Jihoon wipe his hands on his jeans, the drawing complete. He took a step back, admiring his work, and for a second, he glanced your way, catching your eye. He raised his hand in a casual wave, a soft smile playing on his lips. Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly turned away, feeling like you’d been caught.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.” You groaned, pushing past Mingyu to head back behind the counter. “Whatever. You’re just jealous he didn’t paint something for your store.”

Mingyu’s laughter followed you as you walked away, but as you leaned against the counter, arms still crossed, you found yourself glancing back out the window, one last time. There was no denying it anymore. You were definitely into him—his art, his focus, the way he just fit into your world without even trying.

You let out a small sigh, content, but your peaceful moment was interrupted when the door swung open hard enough to make the bell jingle a little too loudly. A group of boys walked in, street-worn and loud, carrying backpacks that were half-open, revealing cans of spray paint inside. A couple of them had skates hanging off their shoulders, and their clothes were loose, baggy, clearly not from around here—or at least, not part of the usual clientele.

You blinked, taking in the sight of them as they strolled in like they owned the place, heads bobbing to whatever beat they had going in their heads. One of them, tall with a beanie pulled low over his eyes, spotted you behind the counter and immediately grinned. “Yo, is this the spot where Jihoon’s lil' girlfriend works?”

You froze, mid-wipe, blinking silently at the question. Girlfriend? Lil’ girlfriend? Your face flushed, and you could feel the heat crawling up your neck. You quickly tried to play it cool, clearing your throat. “Uh... I don’t—what?”

The guy chuckled, his crew falling in behind him, all of them eyeing the bakery like it was some kind of alien planet. “Nah, nah, don’t play like that. We know. Jihoon said his girl runs this bakery. This is it, right?”

One of the other boys, wearing a hoodie that was about three sizes too big, pointed to the display case, leaning over the counter a bit. “Damn, y’all got those fancy-ass tarts here. Hey, you think we could get a discount? You know, 'cause we know your man and all.”

You blinked again, gulping, still processing the whole “girlfriend” thing. Flour clung to your apron and dusted your arms, and you suddenly felt a little out of place, standing there dirty from baking while these guys—who clearly rolled with Jihoon—looked way too comfortable.

“You, uh, want some tarts?” you asked, trying to change the subject, wiping your hands on your apron.

The beanie guy grinned again, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll take some. Heard you got some sweet shit in here. Hook us up, Jihoon’s girl.”

You cringed at the nickname but forced a smile, grabbing a few plates and serving up some of the sweet tarts you had left. They all watched you work, curiosity in their eyes, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched watched.

As you handed them their plates, another one of the boys spoke up. “Damn, I thought bakers were like... supposed to be all old and shit. You’re cute, though.”

You almost dropped the plate. “Thanks,” you muttered, cheeks turning pink as you slid the tart towards them. “Enjoy.”

“Yo, speak of the devil,” one of them interrupted, nodding toward the door as it swung open. You turned around, relieved, and there was Jihoon—sweaty, paint splattered across his arms and hands, still holding a spray can. He froze for a second, taking in the scene, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his crew huddled around the counter.

“The fuck you guys doin’ here?” Jihoon grumbled, walking in with that same grumpy look he always wore when he was caught off guard.

You could see Jihoon’s jaw clench as he approached the counter, shaking his head. “She’s not—why the fuck are you even here?”

Another one chimed in, chuckling. “We just wanted to see the spot, man! Heard it was dope.”

Jihoon stepped up next to you, placing a hand on your lower back in a subtle, protective gesture. “Get outta here, you dumbasses. This isn’t a playground.”

“Bro, why didn’t you tell us she makes shit this good?”

Jihoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked up to the counter. “They’re not here to cause trouble, are they?” he asked, giving you a look that was half-apologetic, half-amused.

“They’re just hungry,” you said, shaking your head, trying not to laugh at how out of place they all looked in your pastel-colored bakery. “Let them eat. I think they like the tarts.”

“They’re pretty good, right?” you teased, handing Jihoon a tart too.

One of the guys pointed his finger between you and Jihoon, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Man, your kids are gonna be so well-fed. Tarts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!”

Jihoon almost choked on his tart, coughing as he shot the guy a glare. “Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no denying the redness creeping up his neck.

You burst out laughing, the absurdity of the situation too much to handle. “You really bring these guys everywhere, huh?”

Jihoon shook his head, embarrassed but smiling too. “I didn’t bring ‘em. They follow me like strays.”

One of the guys grinned, shoving another tart into his mouth. “Hell yeah, we do. And we gonna keep comin’ back if these tarts are free.”

You gave Jihoon a look, shaking your head with a laugh. “Let ‘em eat. They’re harmless… mostly.”

“That one,” Jihoon said, jabbing his thumb toward the high guy. “He’s the asshole who drew the giant cock on your wall.”

Your eyes widened, immediately zeroing in on the guy who was now trying to pretend he wasn’t the subject of conversation. He suddenly found the tarts very interesting, stuffing another one into his mouth to avoid your glare.

“No way,” you deadpanned, your voice dripping with disbelief. “You did that?”

The guy, mouth still full of tart, shrugged sheepishly. “Uh, it was… kinda funny though, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “Oh, hilarious,” you said, your voice thick with sarcasm. “Do you know how many old ladies came in here and gave me looks?”

He swallowed hard, looking around at his friends for backup, but they all just laughed, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting called out. “I, uh… I’ll clean it up?” he offered, scratching the back of his head.

Jihoon snorted, shaking his head. “Too late for that, man. She already scrubbed it off.”

You shot Jihoon a look. “I scrubbed it off. With bleach. In the middle of a freakin’ heatwave.”

The guy looked genuinely guilty for a second, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “My bad, yo. Didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal…”

Jihoon laughed under his breath, clearly amused by the whole situation. “You owe her, dude.”

The guy shrugged again, looking at you with a half-apologetic, half-amused grin. “Aight, aight. My bad, lil’ bakery girl. I’ll make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, you better,” you teased.

“We’re definitely talking about the ‘girlfriend’ thing later.” Jihoon gave you a squeeze on your ass behind the counter, where nobody could see it.

You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him, not missing the way his eyes lingered on you just a second too long. “Oh, are we?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, his breath warm and teasing against your ear. “After I get these idiots outta here.”

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afterglowsainz · 5 months ago

Text

so high school | lando norris

summary: no one imagined that the rising popstar of the moment and the papaya f1 driver would be dating until an album release and a very much awaited maiden win takes everyone by surprise

fc: maia reficco

request: here

a/n: whenever you guys request something based on a taylor song a fairy is born <3

—

liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux and others

yourusername the tortured poets department is out tonight 📝🖤🧸

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username new music from my queen finally !!!

username i’ve only had two weeks to prepare for this since she announced it i’m not okay

gracieabrams 🖤🖤🖤

yourusername 🤍🤍🤍

username i already know it’s gonna be album of the year

username mother blessing us with new music

username is this gonna make me cry or not? i need to be prepared

sabrinacarpenter iconic of you (liked by yourusername)

username breakup album or i’m in love album?

liked by oliviarodrigo, landonorris and others

yourusername i love you, it’s ruining my life

tagged postmalone

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username WTF MV ALREADY??

username IT’S HAPPENING

username omg this fucking song 😭 yn you’re going to JAIL

username that’s how you open a motherfucking album

taylorswift actually sick!

yourusername learned from the best!

username i love you🫵🏽 it’s ruining my life (these fucking songs man😩)

landonorris 🖤

username HUH?

username and what is he doing here 🤣

TAKE A TOUR OF THE MCLAREN TEAM HUB WITH LANDO NORRIS & OSCAR PIASTRI posted by mclaren on youtube

comments

username LANDO LISTENS TO Y/N??

username not only that but repeatedly according to oscar???

username guys is it wrong for me to ship lando and y/n🤭

username we’re living of crumbs istg

username oh i know my man listens to the alchemy to hype him up

liked by lissiemackintosh, yourusername and others

landonorris pre-miami🧸

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username hello there

username don’t look at the camera challenge

username prayer chain for lando to win in miami 🙇🏽‍♀️

username stay delusional

username so when’s our wedding?

username these likes between lando and yn are a bit flirty or is it just me?

username they’re just likes on a social media app 😭

username AND a comment he did on her post

username AND him listening to her music before races

username you sound a bit insane but i’m digging this theory

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and others

yourusername my honest reaction to the ttpd reception 🤍 what’s your favorite currently?

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username GIRL YOU’RE SO PRETTY

username down bad, mbobhft, loml, all of them

username THE BLACK DOG !!!

maxverstappen1 down bad (liked by yourusername)

username hello?

username the flowersss 👀

username literally every song on the album i physically can’t listen to anything else

oliviarodrigo fresh out the slammer is crazy (liked by yourusername)

username guilty as sin? was … an experience

username girlie just casually dropping album of the year and asking us to choose a favorite?

landonorris the alchemy and so high school (liked by yourusername)

username HELLO?

username no one talking about f1 drivers randomly commenting their favorite songs 😭

liked by lewishamilton, lissiemackintosh and others

f1 not much here, just your favorite celebs attending the miami grand prix

tagged kendalljenner, davidbeckham and yourusername

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username my girl yn!!!

username yn at the paddock was not what i expected to see at all

username missed the opportunity to caption this “i'm an aston martin that you steered straight into the ditch”

username lowkey i need to see a yn lando meet up

username kings of flirting through ig likes!

username promote that album queen

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and others

landonorris FUCKING P1 🖤🧡

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username WTF THEY WERE A COUPLE THIS WHOLE TIME?

username so proud!! very well deserved

username well this all makes so much more sense now😭

mclaren first of many🧡

username when they recreated ‘the alchemy’🤭

username pls it was so cute to see him run straight to her as soon as he got out of the car😩

landonorris that song was written about me actually

username bro hard launching on a race post

username well he lowkey hard launch on international television after kissing her in front of everyone!

yourusername so proud of you!🧡

landonorris 🖤

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 month ago

Text

gone wrong

words: 500

warnings: established relationship, pranks, brief yelling, death threat but in an unserious way

you skip happily towards the truck waiting at the end of your driveway.

you hurry to open the door, letting out a small squeal when you see rafe sat in the drivers seat.

“missed you baby.” you say, climbing in and immediately leaning across to give him a kiss, which he's more than happy to accept.

you sit down in your spot, the passenger side that you've claimed for yourself. you reach the door handle and pull it shut when rafes head snaps towards you.

“don't slam my door!” he yells. your eyes widen as you take in his harsh tone of voice.

you melt into your seat, physically shrinking as tears cloud your vision. you let out a small mumbled apology.

“shit, baby.” rafe grabs his phone from where it was set up, thrusting it into your hands. “it was just a prank, baby.”

“oh.” you giggle softly, but rafe can tell you're still upset as he tosses his phone down, not caring about the dumb tiktok as he wraps his arms around you, ignoring the center console poking into him.

“i would never yell at you like that baby, you're my whole world.” he presses kisses to your cheek until a genuine smile stretches across your face.

“that was not a funny prank, rafey.” you wipe underneath your eyes, making sure no tears will escape and ruin your makeup.

“how about i take you shopping after we eat, yeah? would that make up for it?” he asks, gently rubbing his hand up and down your arm, still feeling guilty.

“do you think we could also get ice cream?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

“anything for you.” rafe says, giving you another kiss. “and i really am sorry.”

“don't worry.” you shake your head. “ill get you back.”

-- two weeks later --

“thanks for driving me, rafey.” you say, looking down at your hands sheepishly. “and paying.”

“of course.” rafe chuckles. “you're my girl, i got you.”

“my legs are so soft now.” you say, knowing you have the chance now to back out of the prank, but no, you need to get him back. “and he did a great job, i swear i have no hair from the neck down.”

“he?” rafes eyebrow raises. “you didn't go to your normal girl?”

“nope.” you shake your head and shrug, like its casual. “she had another client so i went to a new guy.”

“you let a guy wax your fucking pussy?” rafes tone is slow and even, but you can tell there's a fire just beneath the surface.

“i mean, that's like his job.” you roll your eyes dramatically.

“was this guy gay?”

“no.” you look to rafe, trying to hold back your laughter. “in fact, his girlfriend just broke up with him. we talked about it a bit while he was doing my thighs.”

rafe unbuckles without another word, glad he hasn't started driving away yet.

“rafe, wait!” you reach across to grab his arm as he reaches for the door handle.

“no, im gonna kill-”

“it's a prank!” you grab your phone, showing him that you're recording. “and i got you good!”

“jesus, baby.” rafe places a hand over his chest. “you're trying to kill me.”

“sweet, sweet revenge.” you laugh maniacally.

sfw tags:

@winterrrnight @cameronswiftie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0

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endlessthxxghts · 9 months ago

Text

Bend Over

Javier Peña x afab!reader || W/C: 4.8k

Summary: Your dresser craps out on you. Your boyfriend, Javier, comes with you to IKEA to buy a new one. Then, he fucks you on it.

Content/Warnings: I think you know what you guys are getting into based on the summary😗. Reader is able-bodied. Slight implied physical descriptors Javi is taller than reader, and the IKEA dresser is slightly bigger/taller than you (everything else is neutral - no size descriptions - ex. "your form", etc.). Pet names (good girl, querida, cariño, baby, baby girl, mama, mi amor). Implied that reader knows Spanish. A little allusion to our favorite contractor, Joel Miller (blink and you’ll miss it). SMUT 18+ MDNI. Public sexual activity (exhibitionism). Finger fucking. Edging. Slight undertones of BDSM dynamics. Javi’s filthy mouth. Thigh riding. Hickey/marking. P in V unprotected sex. Choking. Breeding kink (I’m not sorry). Cum play. Anal play. Brief pussy licking + rimming. Allusion to further sexual activity. I thiiiink that’s it… let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: HIII I’M BACK! I went to ikea to buy a new dresser. And the thots between @javierpena-inatacvest and I ran wild. So, this was born.👹 Also, I no longer have a tag list, but I teased this story TWICE in some WIP tag games, and a few of you were giving me so much love and wanting me to let you know when this story was posted, so I’m adopting the tag list (at da bottom) one last time to say how much I love you all. 🥹 I’m sorry this took me so long. Thank you so much. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!!

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

It was supposed to be just a trip to IKEA. It was supposed to be a productive day of building your dresser and rearranging your room. That is what it was supposed to be.

How it ended up with you getting your guts rearranged on top of said dresser—you’re not so sure. But, considering this is Javier Peña you’re talking about, maybe you have a slight indication of why your day ended up the way it did.

It was early this morning when your dresser decided to shit on you; all you did was slide the door open, and it completely pulled off of its hinge. Now, you don’t mind a doorless dresser, it’s modern, you tried to convince yourself, but when you pulled out the second drawer and the wood snapped in half, scattering your panties all over the ground—yeah, okay, it was definitely time for a new one.

You called your boyfriend after you cleaned up your clothes, and asked if he wanted to come with you on your hunt for the new piece of furniture. Why are you even asking? he scolded as he saddled up into his Jeep and made his way to your place.

He stepped out of his seat in the driver side, rounding the hood to pull you in for a lengthy kiss as he pulled the passenger side door open for you. “Well, hello to you, too, baby,” you giggle as you break the kiss for a breath of air. He leaves a slap to your ass as he guides you by your hips into the passenger seat. He even buckles you in, stealing one more kiss before you two head off.

You thought shopping for a new dresser would be simple: get in, choose a sizable one that could fit everything your previous dresser could, and also make sure it matches the rest of your room’s theme. Simple, right? Wrong. As long as Javier was involved, he took his sweet time really studying each option you were pointing out—analyzing it to ensure it wouldn’t crap out on you like your original one did.

“How long did you have this dresser?” He asked as he was pulling into the IKEA parking lot.

“Mmm, I don’t know,” you thought, “maybe a few years?”

“A few years?!” Javier asked, exasperated. “Where the hell did you find that fucking thing?”

You let a beat of silence pass before you answered. “...I thrifted it,” you admit weakly.

Javier puts the car in park, his face in utter shock at what just came out of your mouth. “Querida, what-” he starts.

You pull him in immediately, shutting him up with your lips against his. It works, of course. “Let’s go?” you ask.

“Y-yeah, vamos (let’s go),” he says, flustered.

“Javi, c’mon,” you whine, feeling exhausted after his analysis on your third option since the first two didn’t pass the Peña inspection. “Since when were you a contractor? The first two were perfectly fine, baby, it’s IKEA for crying out loud.”

He scoffs. “Living on the ranch with Pop,” he replies to your sarcastic remark. “You and I are both aware I know my way around some handiwork,” he adds as he looks back to you, a shit-eating grin creeping on his face.

You want to roll your eyes, but you can’t help the way your body ignites to the suggestion laced in his words. “Pendejo,” you mutter to yourself, fighting the heat from making it to your face.

You walk around some more while your boyfriend opens every nook and cranny of the wooden frame, but then right as you turn your body, you find it. The dresser. HEMNES. You quickly make your way to it, running your hands along the dark brown surface, crouching down to open up and see how much space is in the drawers—which, it’s very spacious. The drawer itself is taller than your waistline, probably reaching just at your belly button. It’s perfect. “Baby, wait, come here! I think I found one!” You call out.

Javier follows your voice, intrigued by your excitement—you didn’t show this much enthusiasm with the other ones he was looking at. He rounds the corner and is met with quite a view. You are bending over the top of the dresser, on your tippy toes, trying to feel for the depth of the dresser. He sees you settle your hands at the edges of the top and shake it a little, testing out its durability while also unknowingly wiggling your ass. Fuck me, he thinks. Quickly adjusting his pants, he makes his way to you, situating his body directly against yours as he cages you in.

“Jav-” you softly gasp, not expecting to feel him. Immediately you’re pulling yourself up, still on your tippy toes, but your back is now flush against his chest.

“Ay, Dios mío,” he grunts as he whispers in your ear, “Querida, please get up.” His hands are on your hips, pulling you away from the dresser. You turn in his hold, a giggle leaving your throat as you look at his stressed out expression, realizing why his reaction was so pained.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask him quietly. “Saw something you like, huh?” You pull him in by his neck, kissing the side of his mouth before you pull away from him completely. Gesturing to the dresser, you ask, “Does this one pass the inspection, sir?”

He glares at you before he replies. “Yeah, let’s get this one.”

Your eyebrow quirks up. “You didn’t even look at it.”

“I saw enough, cariño,” he says gruff, looking at the tag on the display and taking note of which aisle the box will be at.

You know your man well enough to know when he’s turned on, and that little unintentional stunt you pulled when making sure HEMNES was the right dresser for you—oh, it absolutely sent him over the edge. You decided to let him brew in his own arousal until you checked out your purchase, but the moment you set foot in his car again, you were set on starting something you wanted him to finish.

“Thank you again for coming with me, baby,” you say as he settles back into the driver seat, your hand taking its seat on his upper thigh.

The muscle twitches underneath your palm. “Mhm,” he mutters, voice wavering at your contact. Just as Javier puts the car in drive, he’s immediately pushing it back to park because your hand slides higher, closer, to the hardening bulge between his legs. His hips softly buck into your grasp; you take one look at him, and you can see the veins in his neck popping. A victory smile graces your face as his turns into a scowl. “What are you doing?”

You feign as much innocence as possible. “What am I doing? I’m just saying thank you, baby, I can’t tell you thank you?”

“Right,” he says unconvinced. Your fingers continue to draw little shapes across the strained material of his pants. You go to cup him entirely, but the strength of his hand stops you.

He releases your hand and gets out of the car, the car still running. He is at your side faster than you can take your own seatbelt off. He’s pulling your door open and giving you no chance for debate, his hand wraps around your jaw and pulls you into a bruising kiss—a messy yet calculated dance of teeth and tongue, and in pulling away he’s biting your bottom lip, pulling the sweetest little desperate whimper from your throat. He clocks the way your hips softly grind into his seat.

“J-jav,” your voice shakes, “w-what are you doing-”

His grip on your jaw tightens, giving you a little shake as he speaks. “You had your fun, cariño,” he breathes. “My turn now.”

His hand leaves your face and snakes down the front of your body, unzipping your jeans as you just stare wildly at the sight below you, your breathing erratic as your body anticipates his next move.

“We- we’re in the fucking parking lot still, Javi!” You whisper yell at him, pissed, even though your body is doing absolutely nothing to stop him. He smirks at that fact. You want this.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep quiet for me, yeah?” His fingers slip past your jeans, past your underwear, and you’re fucking soaked. His middle and ring finger bypass your clit, circling your entrance to gather the wetness accumulating before he comes back up to circle your throbbing bud.

“Oh, fuck,” you yelp out, your eyes rolling back and your hips pushing into his hand as you hiss out in the pleasure. At your volume, Javi’s quick to stop his ministrations, cupping your mound and squeezing you as a warning. If the space allowed, you know he would’ve slapped your cunt. This alternative is equally as dizzying.

“Open your eyes, baby,” he rasps. Your eyes flutter open. “You see all these people, huh? You want them to see you? See my good girl getting finger fucked in broad fucking daylight?”

“F-fuck, Jav” you whimper, much quieter this time, as your eyes land back on your man’s as you try and grind yourself on him. Javi’s fingers find your entrance then, sliding in with ease as a new wave of arousal pours out of you.

“Oh, you like that idea, don’t you?” His fingers speed up their momentum as he adds his thumb into the mix, hurtling you much closer to your finish line than you anticipated.

“Baby, I’m c-close, I’m- fuck- I’m gonna cum, Javi, I-” you bring your hand up over your mouth to stifle the sobs that are about to leave your mouth.

“Yeah, baby? Gonna give us a show?” He asks, his breathing just as erratic as yours. All you need is one more little push from his thumb on your clit, and then-

“No!” you cry.

Right as you were about to fall over the edge, Javier completely pulls his fingers out of you, standing up straight as he licks his fingers off. Your hips don’t realize he left you as they buck a few more times, chasing the feeling of what could have been.

“Baby, please, I was so close,” you heave, your heart rate equivalent to that of a hummingbird.

Javier leans down into the car, slotting his lips against yours terribly slow; your taste lingers on his tongue. He pulls away. “Sorry, mama,” he whispers. “Only I get to see you fall apart like that.”

He zips and buttons your pants up, leaving you a stunned, aroused, wet mess as he makes his way back to the driver seat and pulls out of the parking spot, driving back to your place as if nothing even happened.

The drive home is short, but it feels like the longest drive you’ve ever had to endure. He rests his hand on your thigh the entire time, squeezing you every now and then as his pinky leaves featherlight touches where you need him most. He talks to you during the drive—about what, you honestly have no clue, but it seemed the conversation was enough for him to sustain alone.

You’re brought out of your daze when his hand grabs your jaw, turning you to look at him. “You okay, baby?” He asks, knowing damn well what’s got your head in the clouds.

The throbbing between your legs remained consistent—worse, even—on the drive home, so no you’re not fucking okay. You don’t tell him that, though. “Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your vocal cords to string together something coherent.

He pulls your lips to his—a lingering one, one that has your mind slipping further. Breaking the embrace, he says softly, “Go unlock the door, amor, while I carry the box in, yeah?”

On wobbly legs, you make your way to your door, missing the hole a few times but eventually the key slides in with ease. You toss them into the bowl on the entryway table, making your way to the kitchen to grab yourself a glass of water to contain yourself until Javier comes inside.

Apparently, you’re way more distracted than you thought, because one gulp down and he’s behind you—hands on your waist, mouth on your neck. You set the glass down a little harshly, its weight suddenly increasing tenfold with the way he’s on you.

“Baby,” you whine, your head falling back onto his shoulder. “Please.”

Your boyfriend is turning you around then, turning you to face him, and his mouth is on yours, licking and sucking as his body pushes you up against the fridge, your head landing with a soft thud as his mouth starts to descend down your neck while his fingers work your buttons and zipper for the second time today.

He’s pulling your bottoms down to your ankles—they’re loose on your form, so they don’t restrict you too much from opening your legs when he slots his thigh in between you, hitting right against your core.

His lips never leave you, biting and kissing every inch he can reach while his hands find their home at the globe of your asscheeks, securing his grip as he begins a steady pace of your crying pussy back and forth on his clothed thigh.

“Just like that, cariño, I can feel you fluttering on me already, holy fuck,” he groans as he continues his assault on your chest, leaving pretty bruises all over the valley of your breasts. “Making such a mess, pretty girl,” he mutters into your skin.

Your hands snake to the curls at the back of his head, yanking them as he brings you back closer and closer to the finish line. He brings his lips back to yours sloppily, one hand leaving your ass to paw at your chest, his fingers rubbing and twisting at your nipples; they harden in his touch.

Your eyes struggle to stay open, his tight jeans providing the yummiest friction against your clit. “I- I’m gonna- please, Jav, I- I need to cum,” you sob.

His hand at your chest snakes down your body, following the path to your sex. Just as you think he’s about to slip his hands between your legs, his hand changes direction, both hands going up to grip your waist to stop you from moving. His thigh leaves your core, and you’re fighting—your hips chase his muscle, your fingers scrambling to pull him flush against you, but he doesn’t budge. It’s no use. Your high is gone again, painfully forced back to the start line as Javier bends down to grab your panties and work their way back up your legs.

You’re a heaving mess, tears falling from your eyes as pathetic little protests fall from your lips.

Exhausted, you sigh and finally blurt out, “Javier Peña, what the fuck are you doing?”

You can see the faintest shit-eating smirk fall on his face before he mirrors what you did earlier: feign innocence. “Gotta go build your dresser, mi amor.”

“I can fucking build it later.”

“But I’m already here. I’ll do it.”

“Yeah, but your presence is needed elsewhere,” you say, annoyed. You faintly gesture to your sobbing cunt, silenced by your soaked underwear.

“But if I’m here, I’ll do it, so you don’t have to,” he says, placing a chaste kiss to the side of your mouth.

“Javi,” you whine, hoping a thousand different ways of are you fucking serious right now translates to him in the tone of your sexual frustration.

“Just sit pretty for me while I go do it real quick, okay, cariño?”

Not giving you the chance to respond, he drags you by the wrist to your bedroom, forcing you to get settled in the reading chair you have in there—a prime spot to watch him get all sweaty as he works. Great.

You wouldn’t have riled him up if you had known this was the kind of torturous game he had in mind.

Twenty minutes in, and Javier is sweating alright, but it’s not for the reasons you’re thinking. Yeah, it’s a physical strain building this dresser, but this is fucking light work for him.

No, he’s sweaty, sticky, and disgustingly hot because his dick is at his full potential, throbbing and leaking at everything you put him through—and everything he put himself through, pulling you to the brink of orgasm twice without letting you fully submit to it. He damn near always gets off when you do, and teasing you like this teases him just as much, if not more.

He’s almost done, he just has one more drawer to put together and slide into place, but he takes a step back and uses his arm to wipe the sweat across his forehead, his breathing heavy during the action. It takes everything in you not to completely melt at what he’s forcing you to witness, a faint whimper escaping you at the sight of him.

It takes him barely a minute to get the last drawer assembled before he attempts sliding it into place. It goes in with ease at first, but before it can fully shut, the drawer gets stuck, unable to close by an inch. What the fuck, he mutters under his breath, lifting it up and wiggling to see if it’s just a kink inside the railing. Your jaw falls a little open at the vulgarity of his mouth; you are way too wound up and everything he’s doing right now has your pussy doing backflips, somersaults, cartwheels—you name it. She’s very eager.

Fed up with the drawer, Javier completely opens the drawer and then slams it shut, using his hips to give the drawer a full-force push. The slam of the wood is deafening, but it does nothing to hide the sweet little gasp that comes out of you, his cock twitching at the sound.

A high-pitched, breathy squeak of an oh fuck leaves your mouth, and Javier turns to check on you. He sees your fingers skating down your front, running your middle and ring finger over your soaked center, your clit’s fire immediately reigniting at the contact.

“¿Cariño?” He calls, a sternness evident in his tone. You know not to test that tone. Your fingers’ movements pause, your eyes meet his and they’re dark. “What do you think you’re doing?” Jesus fuck, he doesn’t even know if he has the strength to fuck you like he was planning on, the sight of you touching yourself has a fire igniting through every vein in his body.

Your eyebrows are furrowed, nervousness written all over your face. “I…um, I-” you start.

“Get up,” he cuts you off.

“What?” You say softly, your brain already scrambled eggs and unable to register what he just asked of you.

His singular eyebrow raises as he stalks closer to you, his hard gaze looking down at you as your pussy cries even more at the attention. Now his command registers, and you’ll be damned if you have to make him repeat himself.

You remove your hand from your center, lifting yourself off your chair. He snags you by your waist, pulling your body flush against his front as he steals the breath from your lungs, your tongues meeting hungrily. You moan into his mouth, your hands slowly wrapping around his neck, but before you can grip his sweet curls, he’s pulling away from you, your surprised gasps blessing his ears as he flips you roughly but with ease towards the direction of your new dresser, already in its place secured against the wall.

“Javi,” you whimper again for what feels like the millionth time already.

“Dime qué quieres, cariño,” (tell me what you want) he rasps in your ear, his hands skating down your front and resuming what you so desperately started.

“F-fuck-” you start, “fuck me, Javi, please, please fuck me,” you beg, your heart stuttering as he dips his middle finger into your entrance.

He kisses your temple as your eyes fall shut, a contrastingly sweet gesture for the way he’s about to ruin you right now.

“Then bend over.”

Now that sobers you up a little. You start to crane your neck in his direction. “W-what?” But he’s quick to grab your jaw, bringing your eyes back to your dresser. “Go do what you were doing earlier, baby. Bend over that dresser for me,” he says, soft but stern, then he’s taking a step back, letting you get there on your own.

So hooked on his body heat, you can’t help the shudder that leaves you, but ultimately you’re making your way to your new dresser—picking yourself up on your tippy toes to lean over the top, just like you were doing with the store’s floor model. “L-like this?” You ask, voice trembling in anticipation. You stick your ass out a little extra for good measure.

You hear his belt buckle before you register his deep grumble. “Yeah, baby,” he tells you, slowly making his way to your backside. “So good for me,” he breathes, his fingers hooking into the hem of your underwear and letting them fall to the ground. You step out of them, knowing his next step is gonna be to nudge your legs further open—and he does, using his foot to nudge both of yours outwards.

He runs his middle finger through your slick as he lets his jeans fall, your hips push further into his touch, chasing the pleasure you’ve been buzzing for all morning.

“Baby, please,” he hears escaping your mouth.

“Nuh uh, baby,” he tuts, “I told you. You had your fun already, it’s my turn.”

He runs his fingers through your wet seam, properly soaking his digits before he brings his hand to his own arousal, covering himself in your slick. He groans at the feeling. Javier crowds himself behind you, his tip immediately mirroring the path of his fingers. He catches himself against your clit, and he smirks at the wrecked sounds of your heavy breathing.

He pushes himself into you, slow and steady, getting you comfortable in his size. His fingertips are digging little bruises into your hips—his way of grounding himself from absolutely pummeling into you from the get go.

You two have been together for quite some while, but Javi knows he’s big. It’s evident in the way you mewl and convulse every time he’s inside of you. Too big to get used to, yet perfect for the slight tinge of pain he knows you love.

“Baby, please move,” you pant.

“You sure, cariño?” He says softly, his dominant demeanor fading to make sure you’re alright.

You reach back to grab onto his hand and drag it up your own body, settling his long digits around the base of your neck. With a squeeze of your hand over his: “Fuck me, Jav, please.”

At your queue, he’s pushing himself into you entirely. “Yeah, baby?” He snarls. “Want me to fuck you like this?” His hips form a hard pace, your hips digging into the ledge of the dresser. “This what your pretty little pussy wants, huh? What she’s been fucking crying for, baby?”

“Fuck-” you gasp. “Fuck, yes- Javi, yesyesyes! Amor, please,” you wail, your eyes rolling back as the pressure of his fingers on your neck restrict your blood flow, filling your body with a euphoria only he can give you.

His eyes scan down your body, taking in every inch of you with nothing but pure adoration. The sweetness fades when his eyes zone in on where your two centers meet. He lets out an audible moan at the sight, sending your pussy fluttering at the sound. “Look at you, bebita, fucking creaming on me, holy fuck,” he groans, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease.

“I- I’m close, baby, fuck-” your breath stutters. “Touch me, Jav, I- I need you,” you moan.

“Shh, I’ve got you, mi amor.” Javi’s hand on your throat leaves you and coasts down your spine, his grip fixing itself on the globe of your ass.

He reaches down with his thumb to gather some of your slick, dragging it up to your tight, more inexperienced hole. You gasp when you feel it, your ass bucking further into his touch. “Oh, my baby girl likes that? You like your ass being played with, cariño?” He taunts, hooking his thumb inside. “Want to me to fuck you there next time?”

“Fuck- yes- please,” you whimper, your pussy fluttering around him at his words. His other hand snakes to your front and reaches for your clit, drawing tight, calculated circles on you. “Oh, fuck-!” you yell out.

“That’s it, baby, fucking- dámelo, fucking soak me, querida” he forces out between his teeth. Your body twitches in his grasp, knuckles stark white against your dresser, eyes clamped shut as you cry out in the overwhelming pleasure consuming every inch of your body. “Fuck,” he groans, your sounds forcing his balls to pull taut. Javi’s fingers speed up along with his thrusts, hurtling you towards your long-awaited climax.

It’s overstimulating, him fucking into you so harshly as every nerve ending in your body pops off like fireworks. Yet, you feel the way his cock twitches inside of you, the way his pace stutters for barely a second, and you know he’s close. It’s overstimulating, yes, but you want, no, need him to continue, you need him to chase his own finish line—you need him to root himself so deep inside you, you’ll feel traces of him for months on end.

“You’re close, I can feel it,” you gasp, building your own rhythm of your hips to help him along. “Need it, baby, need you inside of me,” you pant, your voice desperate. You pull yourself off the dresser and push your back into his chest, both his hands leaving your body to grip onto the darkwood, caging you in.

“Yeah?” you feel his heavy breath fan across your cheek. “Tell me how fucking’ bad, querida, wanna hear it,” he says, voice strained.

You look back at him as best you can in this angle, your lips ghosting his jaw as the slick sounds of you grow louder. “Need you so bad even plan B can’t help us- God- please cum inside of me, Javier Peña, fucking give it to me,” you beg, your moans echoing the walls and rattling every fibre of his being, pushing his body into a state of pure ecstasy as he begins to empty himself into you.

“Oh…fuck,” he grunts, his hips coming to a halt as he nearly wheezes through his orgasm. Once the sensitivity calms down, Javi pumps himself in and out of you a few more times for good measure, pushing his load deep inside of you. You can feel the way he slides in with a wet ease, and it makes butterflies in your belly erupt, a small gasp of a giggle, knowing that the soaked sensation isn’t because of solely your own product.

“Fucking perfect,” he grumbles, slowly pulling himself out of you. He takes a small step back to get a look at your used cunt, puffy and glistening. His mouth literally waters.

Javi drops to his knees, settling his broad palms on each of your ass cheeks to keep the view of you open for him. Slowly, he leans in, the flat of his tongue running over your delicate pearl through your cum-soaked folds, a mix of you and him blessing each taste bud on his tongue. He hears your breath hitch.

He brings his tongue back in, collecting up the salty combination, before he’s on you again, mapping out the ring of your puckered muscle before he softly peppers the area in sweet kisses, your rear slightly irritated with his repeated slamming into you.

He pulls himself away, giving you a moment to turn around; your back is to the dresser now. He places several kisses on your thighs, giving a few more kitten licks to your center before he’s rising to his feet and pulling you in for a deep yet gentle kiss. You can taste both you and him, and it makes your heart want to burst at the seams with warmth.

“You okay?” He asks softly as his lips break away from yours.

“Always with you,” you offer bashfully.

“Good,” he says firmly, kissing the tip of your nose. You hear his hand smack the top of your dresser a few times. “I guess this thing is pretty fucking durable, huh?”

“Mmmm, maybe. I think it needs to pass one more test,” you tell him.

His eyebrow quirks up, you can see his mustache twitch, fighting his smirk. “And what test would that be, mi amor?”

Taking a step back out of his hold, you back up into the dresser again, grabbing onto the ledge and you jump, spreading your legs wide open for him to fit in between.

You can see the way his eyes flash impossibly darker. He stalks up to you again, his hands squeezing your thighs before he’s back on his knees, his head immediately burying himself in your core.

Oh, yeah, this dresser passes the test, alright.

Tagging those who showed interest when I posted the WIP !! @honeyedmiller , @punkshort , @joels-shitty-puns , @bearsbeetsbeskar , @janaispunk , @starry-eyes-love

If you enjoyed this, come check out my masterlist for more or follow my notifs blog @endlessthxxghtsnotifs to get updated on when I post new stories! Much love💚

@pedrostories

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bearseulgs · 4 months ago

Text

enha is the type of boyfriend to...

gn!reader x ot7!enhypen

genre: fluff, love languages (?)

wc: 671

warnings: non-sexual dominance, physical affection (cuddling), slight implications of fights, slight implications of emotional constipation

희승 Heeseung

Heeseung is the type of boyfriend to insist he carry your bags for you when you go to the mall, or tie your shoes when they come loose

he isn't toxically masculine, nor is he too terribly jealous (still a bit tho), but he still commits acts of non-sexual dominance to ensure others know who you're with

his acts of service not only let you know that he's there for you, but also others around you

not only does he love showing off that he's yours, but he also loves making your life easier with simple actions

제이 Jay

Jay is the type of boyfriend to hold you any chance he gets

he loves having you in his arms, whether it's back hugs in the kitchen or laying down with you on the sofa

when he's tired, it's easy for him to knock out, but when he's exhausted, he wants you there with him

he's not a huge physical touch guy, yet he still jumps at any opportunity to hold you close, like offering you his lap when you have no seat

제이크 Jake

Jake is the type of boyfriend to want to be by your side through anything

whether you're cuddled up in bed or hiking a new trail, he loves spending time with you and will always ask you to go out with him, turning non-romantic activities into dates

his favorite is asking you to walk Layla or go grocery shopping with him because of how domestic it feels

he knows he wants you in his life forever, and so he will always try to include you in it

성훈 Sunghoon

Sunghoon is the type of boyfriend to tag along when you go out with your friends

he doesn't talk or act much, but he wants to spend the time with you

he values quality time, even if he's not proper interacting with you, having you close by is reassuring and intimate to him

it's convenient for him when your friends suddenly text you asking to go to the mall when he's at your house, because then he doesn't even have to ask; you just invite him with you

even though he feels safe enough to be louder around you, he feels especially safe knowing he can be quiet and just enjoy your presence

선우 Sunoo

Sunoo is the type of boyfriend to dote on you endlessly

he will pamper you with affection, care, and gifts at any opportunity, wanting nothing more than your happiness and wellbeing

one of his favorite things to do would be unwinding with you after a long day, preparing a bubble bath and laying a mask on your face

he would wash your hair for you, even though he is also exhausted, because it relaxes him to do these tasks for you and take care of you

정원 Jungwon

Jungwon is the type of boyfriend to get defensive of you

he knows you can fight your own battles, but that doesn't stop him from trying to do it for you

whether it's standing up against a bully or fending off a creep, Won will always guard you against offenders

it's his way of taking care of you and helping himself feel better about your condition

as much as he loves domestic care, he prides himself on being your defender (even if he gets a bit overprotective sometimes lol)

니키 Ni-ki

Ni-ki is the type of boyfriend to tease you up close and admire you from afar

as playful as he gets, you are still his one and only, and he can never forget that

if you're ever asleep with him, he'll admire your features, gazing softly at every detail of your face until you wake up, then he'll start poking at your cheeks and joking about how fluffy they get

as much as it seems he wouldn't want to get mushy, he still GUARANTEES you know how much he loves you

dating him, you have to be okay with playful bickering, but he also recognizes the importance of reassurance, even if it's not his strong suit

a/n: i felt kinda delulu rereading this and then i remembered i literally write fanfiction on tumblr dot com

©️ bearseulgs 2024

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k4g3hika · 1 year ago

Text

CONSUME ━ imagine!

suna rintarou x fem!reader

summary: suna rintarou was hard to love, you knew this from the beginning. but when you overhear him admitting how he truly felt about you, it hurt to decide whether to let him go, or let your love for him continuously consume you.

genre: hurt/comfort

wc: 6.2k

tags: this is the longest imagine that i’ve ever written 😭 it was a pain in the ass to write but i hope you guys like it :)

Sometimes, you think it’s hard to love Suna.

Suna is calculating and quiet, the reasons exactly why you find it difficult to continuously pine for him. Though, you already knew he was going to act like this. You’ve gone to school with Suna since elementary, and have even lived in the same neighbourhood since childhood, but you don’t think he knows that.

The thing is, you know Suna, but you don’t think he knows you. Every morning since you were six years old, you’ve seen him make his way to school, but you’ve never had the courage to walk up to him and say ‘hi’. For years, the only parts of Suna that you were able to truly admire were his back and his hair, from behind. The both of you have never been in the same friend group, class, or extra-curricular activity, until your second-year of high school.

You precisely remember the moment you stepped into the gymnasium to introduce yourself as the new manager of the team. It was a rainy day and you were excited, albeit, a little nervous, but irregardless, excited because you know and love volleyball. The sport connected with some of your childhood memories, as you recall playing it with your older brother. Too bad your physical skills weren’t up to par with the school’s expectations, or else you would’ve been on the team. Their loss though, because you found your strategy and knowledge of the sport to be your strongest feature as a player.

As a result of the girl’s team already having a manager, the coach recommended you to try signing up for the role of manager for the boy’s team. Now, you didn’t mind being around boys. Your older brother was enough for you to build up the courage against the challenge that is the hygiene and personality, or well, lack thereof, of boys.

However, the courage built over the years was not enough to stop your surprise at seeing none other than Suna Rintarou, from the front.

He looked completely different from what you remember him looking like. For some reason, you still had the young image of Suna in your head. The Suna you remember had puffy cheeks and neat hair, but this new Suna, was mature, older, and way more handsome. His cheeks thinned out and highlighted a sharp jawline that made his face look so clean-cut, unlike his hair that was messy and all over the place. But, if anything, you think that you prefer this Suna.

Because, God, it made him so much more attractive.

Now, it’s been about three months since you’ve become manager, and in those three months, you’ve tried to show Suna just how much you love him. The years of no talking and never meeting each other were all building up for you, and you just wanted to show him all of the care and affection you’ve held for him over the years.

You’ve cooked bento boxes and given them to him, you’ve filled his water bottle with the expensive electrolytes from the convenience store ten minutes away from the school before every practice, and who couldn’t forget, you make sure that his towel was clean and warm beside his gym bag, so that he wouldn’t use the same one for weeks until it reeked. Your affection was clearly shown through your actions and you prayed to the heavens that he would just notice you. Maybe say a ‘thank you’ or even a little head pat, you really don’t care, just some recognition would make you feel rewarded after all the hard work you’ve done for him.

But, the bento boxes were returned to you either by, Atsumu or Osamu, Suna drank the expensive electrolyte water, however, he seemed to not notice that it was you who put all the thought and care behind the action, and his towel was always just thrown to the side alongside the other towels. Even though the towel you prepped was a personal one from home that had your initials hand sewn in the corner. You thought that at one point he would’ve acknowledged you, but the gratefulness never came.

It didn’t matter though. Because you knew in your heart that you loved Suna Rintarou, and there was nothing that could change that. Even if you did all the sincere actions for him until the both of you graduated and he never noticed you, just knowing that he at least saw the bento box, the water bottle, and your towel, was enough to put a smile on your face. You would show Suna that you love him, ten times over.

“Y/N! Earth to Y/N!” Your head snaps over to your right, seeing the coach look at you with concern. Embarrassed that he caught you in your daily Suna trance, your cheeks heats up and you push yourself to your feet.

“Coach!”

“I thought you would never hear me. Listen, I don’t know what’s taking all your attention away, but can you please head down to the locker room and tell the boys that they need to make their way over here. The drill we spoke about yesterday is a bit complicated, so I would like to get started as soon as possible.” Nodding, you bow and begin to make your way over to the club room.

Your heart begins to speed up a bit, as the thought of seeing Suna shirtless makes your chest burn and your face hot. By all means, you are not a pervert! But just seeing him with all his muscles in the bright fluorescent light of the locker room looked like a cover of a sports magazine.

Suna Rintarou makes you feel so nervous. Unfortunately, you find yourself relishing in the minimal acknowledgement that he gives you, thriving off of the fact that you were in a club that just allowed you to be around him. Maybe it was a sign from the heavens that you weren’t physically athletic, but strategically, which resulted in your application as Boys Volleyball team manager. You’d like to think that despite his ignorance, it was in both of your guys’ destinies to end up with another.

Maybe the both of you were the main characters of a drama, where, despite all the bumps in the plot, you will always find each other being drawn to one another. Yet again, that was all just your stupid imagination, but one can dream, right?

Giggling to yourself, you were about to knock on the locker room door, before you heard loud voices through the small space between the door and the wall. It sounded like they were bickering with one another, and you begin to wonder if it’s Atsumu and Osamu fighting again, while everyone just stood around and observed. Normally, you would be the one to beg them to stop while Kita jumped in after you to pull them apart. But, now that you weren’t inside, you begin to push open the door at the possibility.

“...Y/N?” Your actions falter at the sound of your name.

‘Are they talking about me?’ Before you could do anything, you lean your ear in just to get a snippet of what they were talking about. You know what they say though, curiosity was what killed the cat.

“Come on Sunarin! You have to like Y/N! She’s so cute, and she cooks you all those bento boxes! If that isn’t girlfriend material, then I don’t know what is.” Hearing Atsumu praise you for your efforts made you smile, trying to hide it by covering your mouth with your hand.

“And, let’s not forget how she already likes you. C’mon Rintarou, we’ve seen her personally hand you your water bottle,” The voice you assume to be Ojiro teases, while everyone in the room laughs.

“Oh yeah!! I’ve seen those expensive electrolyte packets in her bag, man, how does it feel to receive such special treatment from Y/N?”

‘So my actions don’t go unnoticed.’ Your smile grows bigger, clutching your clipboard closer to your chest when feeling just how full your heart is with everyone’s recognition.

“Stop it guys.” Suna’s smooth voice finally enters the picture and you try to stop yourself from giggling out loud. “She’s our manager.”

“So?!? Man, that’s even better! You won’t have a girlfriend who doesn’t understand the importance of the sport. If anything, Y/N is more committed than you, maybe you will be the one competing for her attention against the club,” you hear smooching sounds and Atsumu speaks in a voice that tries to mock Suna’s, but did a terrible job.

“Y/N~ don’t forget all about me!! I love you Y/N~!” More kissing sounds can be heard, and everyone in the room laughs one more time.

The joy in your heart would’ve been extended, if it weren’t for the sudden aggravated scoff from Suna, and the slapping of a towel on bare skin. Atsumu yelps and the room suddenly dies down from the initial humorous atmosphere.

“Man, shut up. I don’t like Y/N. She’s alright, I guess.” a locker door slams shut, “But sometimes, she's just so... annoying. I don't know how much longer I can put up with it. And you know, after a while, it just comes off as desperate.”

‘Desperate? I’m not desperate.’ You weren’t keen on Suna noticing you. You just liked doing all those things for him, it showed you cared, and that he was at least deserving of some special treatment, because he was a very special person in your life.

“I feel bad for her,” he continues, “spending all that time doing shit for someone that doesn’t even like her. I can’t say anything though, cause she’s our manager and I don’t want the team to feel awkward. I guess I just have to suffer with her smothering me all the damn time.”

At that, you feel your once fluttering heart stop. You feel tears beginning to make their way to fall from your eyes, as your face begins to feel hot, but not in a blushing way. More like in a, you were about to sob out loud and the tears probably wouldn’t stop for a while, way.

You loved Suna. He didn’t have to love you back, the least you were asking for was for him to say ‘thank you’. But it appeared that your affection didn’t appear as a display of your love, but something that bothered him. Annoying him to the point of seeing your actions as suffocating. But that didn’t entirely bother you.

It was the fact that he didn’t even want to tell you to stop. He was going to live like that until high school was over, because you were the team’s manager, and it would be ‘awkward’. You begin to overthink.

What if you kept on going about cooking those bento boxes for him, filling his water up with electrolytes, and bringing a special towel from home, all warm and clean, without knowing what he actually thought of your displays of affection? You would’ve lived thinking that Suna somewhat appreciated it. Possibly having the idiotic thought that he was just shy, and maybe didn’t know how to exactly tell you that he liked you.

You are such a dumbass.

You begin to tremble, the pen that was once held up by your clipboard clattering to the ground and startling you. It brought you back to your situation, seeing the door still somewhat closed in front of you. Out of fear that they were going to see you and realise that you were eavesdropping, you ditch the pen and begin to run back to the gym.

You were going to tell the coach that you were feeling sick. You hope the teary eyes and flushed cheeks will do you justice, and he’ll send you home without any repercussions. But as of right now, nothing matters, all that did was the fact that you were annoying the boy you loved, and that your pillows were waiting to welcome your tears until tomorrow morning.

—

It’s been two days. Have you missed school for the past two days? Absolutely not. Suna wasn’t going to make you miss class, as much as you wanted to, you know that if you were going to skip, the school will inform your parents, and that last thing you want is your parents to get involved.

It’s just been two days since you’ve been to volleyball practice. You haven’t been missing your duties at all though. Yes, you’ve been in contact with the coach and Kita, with them informing you on the notes of the team and each player’s performance. The reason for that being, some coaches from Tokyo were planning to head down to Hyogo for a volleyball camp. The team needs to know what they have to improve on, and unfortunately, though you felt as if you weren’t in the right state of mind, you had to fulfil your duties as a manager.

You’re not over Suna, and to be honest, you don’t think you ever will be. He’s been such a constant force in your life, that a lifetime without his presence captivating your mind felt impossible to even conjure. You love Suna Rintarou, but you guess you would just have to hold it inside until the both of you go your separate ways. Maybe then you’ll get over him, but the possibility seemed unlikely.

You just have to give up expecting the response to your love that you’ve been hoping for your entire life.

Checking the cafeteria and seeing if you had enough food supply for three volleyball teams, their respective coaches, and their managers. It seemed like a chore to do all on your own, and it was. But you committed to being the team manager. Suna wasn’t going to change that whether he liked it or not.

“Y/N, the Tokyo teams will be arriving soon. Coach says you need to head to the front and help him with dorm placement.” Sighing and nodding, you get up from your squatting position from the bottom shelf. Kita notices your negative mood, by being the observant asshole that he is. As you were about to exit out the only doorway, he grabs your forearm, holding you back from actually leaving. His sudden touch surprised you, resulting in you jolting back. “I’ve been meaning to ask, are you okay?”

His concern falters your thoughts and movements. In all the time that you’ve been manager of the volleyball team, Kita has never really shown you that much care for how you felt. It surprised you a bit, seeing how concerned he looked for your wellbeing.

Yet again, he’s Suna’s friend.

“I’m okay, why do you ask?” He didn’t believe you, that was clear. It was so obvious when his facial expression did not change, Kita was still staring intently at you. It almost felt like he was trying to read your mind.

“You dropped your pen, by the way.” Taking it out of his pocket, Kita hands you your familiar piece of stationary, not thinking about it, you grab it from his hand. “I know you were by the locker room when Suna said what he said.”

‘Oh shit.’ You felt your heart come to a stop, yet again.

“W-What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So it’s just a coincidence that after Suna said that about you, I found your pen in front of the locker room door, and you didn’t show up to practise till today? Y/N, I’m not sure if you’ve failed to learn something about me, but I can tell you that I am not an idiot.”

His words caught you off-guard. Kita managed to figure out what was wrong with you, without even knowing who you were. To be honest, it scared you a bit, getting a glimpse of what Kita can truly find out when he concentrated hard enough. You admire that about him.

Taking your silence as you not knowing what to say, Kita lets go of your forearm and sighs.

“Suna didn’t mean what he said. He’s a very thoughtful individual who was pressured into saying those things by the team. You know how they are. Please try to see things from his perspective, as Suna is often misunderstood.” He begins to walk away, but leaves with a final word, “I’m not telling you to change how you feel about the situation. You have a right to feel how you feel. But, don’t take Suna’s words too seriously.” Kita walks away, leaving you alone in the cafeteria.

‘Did he just say not to take the insults Suna threw at you seriously?’ The aggression left behind the negativity a few days ago wants to say, absolutely not. What Kita said is unfair, to you and your feelings. Suna called you annoying and said you were smothering him, how can you jump around that? So far you haven’t had a night where you haven’t thought about how…mean Suna was. You thought that he only would’ve been mean to Atsumu or the others, but not you, never you.

It’s safe to say that your mind felt like it was on the verge of exploding. It was so stressful to choose whether or not you should believe Kita and show Suna your love again, or just ignore him like what you’ve been doing for the past couple of days.

You think that it’s best to just…not think about the problem. It’s a situation for later, for now, the camp and most importantly, the team needs your utmost attention.

‘God, I hate high school.’

—

“Hey Suna, you good?” Suna takes a sip of water from his bottle, noting that it tasted different from usual. Nodding, he wipes his sweat off with a spare shirt from his bag, also becoming aware that the towel that he was given wasn’t the usual soft one that he had from the beginning of the year. This one was coarse and rough, making him pick up the shirt he intended to wear if he got too sweaty.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Hey, does the water taste a bit weird? Like, spoiled or somethin’ cause it doesn’t taste like how it usually does.” Osamu’s eyebrow raises, grabbing the bottle from Suna’s hands despite his protests, and tasting his friend’s drink. To him, it tasted normal, like the normal water that came from the water fountain.

“No…it tastes like how it usually does?”

“Nah, can’t be man. The water I usually have is sweeter and it tastes like fruit juice. This shit tastes weird.” Suna’s face scrunches up, tasting his water again to see if he was just hallucinating the lack of flavour in his water. It’s stupid, how much he’s overthinking the flavour of something that he shouldn’t think that much about. But he hates how regular water tastes like, only really drinking it if he has to.

Observing Suna, it clicks in Osamu’s head what was missing from the water.

In the past, he has noticed you getting out a packet of electrolytes and putting it into Suna’s bottle with a sincere smile on your face. You looked so cute and happy, it puzzled him why you didn’t tell Suna that it was you that was making his water suitable to his tastes. The silent display of affection made him so jealous, he could only wish that he had someone that cared that much.

“What if you ask Y/N? She’s the one who fills up the water bottles anyway, she should know.” Osamu jogs back to the court, practising once more with the team captain. Inquisitively, Suna does remember that you fill up the water bottles. He also remembered how you asked him once at the beginning of the school year what his favourite drink was, and he only shrugged, saying that he likes fruit chuupets, and ever since then, his water tasted like the familiar fruity taste. Wanting to know why his water hasn’t been tasting like it as of late, it prompted him to go on a search for you. Damn warmups, he needs to know why his water doesn’t have the same taste than it usually does.

Looking around the gym, he sees your figure turn into the hallway. Following you, he begins to walk faster in order to catch up to you, thinking about what to say to you in his head, without coming across as mean.

‘Y/N, why does my water taste bad?’ No. ‘Y/N, why doesn’t my water taste like fruit?’ No, he’s going to sound stuck up. ‘Y/N, why does my water taste like everyone else’s?’ Oh God no, that sounds even worse.

‘Y/N, is there something different about my water?’ There you go. That should sound right.

He was ready to confront you, preparing himself to call out your name. But before he could do so,

“Dove!” Suna’s head snaps to the loud voice in front of him, and so does yours, as a tall, lanky, goofy-looking boy makes his way towards you. Much to Suna’s dismay, for some reason, a smile etches itself onto your face as the other man approaches you. “I thought I would never find you.”

“Tetsu, aren’t you supposed to be practising with your team? You shouldn’t be behind here.”

“Well, I just wanted to see my girl. Is there any harm in that, Dove?”

“Tetsu, stop,” you mutter, a bit shy, “I don’t want people from my school to hear you call me that.”

“Aw, you’re still cute as ever. Here, let me help you with that.” Suna sees the guy, ‘Tetsu’, grab the basket of water bottles from your hands. You protest, pouting a bit as Kuroo brings the case above your reach so that you wouldn’t be able to get it back. “I haven’t seen you in awhile Dove, let me be nice, okay?”

Honestly, he personally doesn’t know what overcame him, but out of nowhere Suna coughed loud enough for the pair to hear. He sees you jump a bit, seeing that one of your teammates, catching you in the midst of a conversation while you were supposed to be doing your duties. And it was even worse for you, as not only was it a teammate, but it was Suna. You assume that he probably hates your guts, based on what he said before. Even so, his glare started to make you feel a bit nervous.

“Can I help you?” Kuroo asks Suna as walks up to the both of them.

“I should be asking you that question. Do you need something from my team manager?” Embarrassed, you look down at your feet, trying to avert your eyes from Suna or Kuroo’s.

Kuroo’s eyes squint, looking at the middle-blocker who, to his surprise, matches his height. The both of them begin to have a staring competition, as one or the other refuses to tear away the eye contact. It started to worry you, because it’s almost been two minutes of harsh breathing and aggressive stares.

“O-Okay, I’ll be taking these then.” You grab the crate from Kuroo and begin to make your way to your original location. “Get back to practise guys! Lunch is in thirty!”

“Who are you and why were you talking to Y/N?”

“Woah, woah, buddy, why are you getting protective? Y/N, is a very, very, close friend of mine, so I think that I have a right to approach her right?” Kuroo smirks, stepping closer to Suna as a form of intimidation. “How about you? Are you her boyfriend or something?”

Suna glares at Kuroo, wanting nothing more than to hit him in the jaw. He would, but one, that would take too much of his energy, and two, he’s pretty sure you would hate him if he does. Still, something in Suna just wanted to tell Kuroo that he was your boyfriend just for him to back off.

But he wasn’t. Because he doesn’t like you. He’s sure of that.

“No.” Kuroo laughs, stepping back before turning to make his way back to the gym.

“Well then, that means nothing is stopping me right?” Kuroo walks away, but not before aggressively pushing Suna’s shoulder back with his own. Though, Suna was too concentrated on what the other boy said to even progress the aggression from the other side.

‘What did he mean ‘nothing is stopping him? Is Kuroo going to do something to you? What will Kuroo do that’ll result in Suna blocking him?’

“Sunarin! What are you still doing out here?!” Atsumu shriek could be heard from down the hall, making Suna jump out of his train of thought. He completely forgot that he was even standing here just staring at a wall and thinking of you. That was weird.

He usually never did.

—

The practice game against Inarizaki and Nekoma was…tense.

You could feel the passive aggressiveness coming strangely, from Kuroo and Suna across the net. Everyone else was curious as well, wondering exactly why these two, who’ve never met before, suddenly have a feud similar to that of a world war. At first, you were completely clueless, but then began to wonder if something happened in the hallway after you left.

Maybe Suna said something to tease Kuroo? Or maybe, it was the other way around and now they just want to kill each other.

In the third set at twenty-two points to Inarizaki and twenty-four points to Nekoma, the stakes and the nerves were equally as high. Nekoma has one win and Inarizaki has the other. It seems that this practice game was being played for far more than it actually was, since Kuroo and Suna never acknowledged each other apart from glaring and swearing at each other under their breath. Their respective teams kept asking them if they were okay, both replying with, “yeah, let’s just win.”

“Do you think something happened between Suna and that Nekoma player?” The coach asks you, leaning in and whispering it so that others wouldn’t hear.

“I’m not sure…but they do seem pretty aggressive with one another.”

Then, as you look away for just a moment, a spike comes from Nekoma, but was thankfully received by Kita. Following a set by Atsumu, Osamu jumped to spike it down, but was then blocked by none other than Kuroo himself.

At the brink of time, Ojiro retrieves it back, calling Atsumu to set it once more, this time for Suna to powerfully spike it down, aiding them in their two point loss between them and Nekoma. As Suna jumps up, you see Kuroo and Kenma jump as well.

A feeling of failure begins to settle in your heart.

Suna hits the ball, powerfully, the first time you’ve seen him hit a ball with so much energy.

But the ball immediately lands back down onto the same side, Kita not able to have caught up to it in time. Nekoma cheers out loud, congratulating each other on their hard work.

While Inarizaki lost, they began to support each other for their efforts, but you notice that Suna didn’t look as relieved as the others. His stare is hostile, facing towards the otherside where you see Kuroo looking at him with the same confrontational gaze. You swallow nervously, beginning to make your way towards Suna to pull him back. The Inarizaki boys take notice as well, observing how Suna and Kuroo were both stomping their way to each other. The same feeling of failure seeps into your chest again and you could sense something was going to go terribly wrong–

Suna punched Kuroo in the jaw!

Out of nowhere, a fight begins between the two players, both of them tussling with one another in the middle of the court. Kuroo lands a punch on Suna but is equally stunned when Suna fights back almost immediately after. You notice how Kuroo was pulling at his shirt, trying to bring him closer to land another blow, but fails as Suna strikes him one after the other. Both Nekoma and Inarizaki run up to their players, trying to pull them apart from one another.

The coaches start to shout at their players, ordering them to stop what they were doing at once.

Successfully, they both are torn apart from one another, but still continue to fight the air as they try to continue their brawl.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Your coach asks, trying to instill some discipline into his player. Unfortunately, your heart fails to calm down after witnessing the both of them fight so aggressively. You’ve never seen Suna fight someone, or him be so mad.

Suna looks up, pulling his arms away from his teammates and stares at you.

As the both of you make eye-contact, you refuse to move from your position and remain shaking. Almost as if you gave him an answer to something, Suna walks away, leaving behind everyone in awe.

Just then, you look up at Kita, who nods for you to go.

‘Should I go?’

The memory of him calling you annoying and smothering comes back in your mind.

‘Does he deserve my comfort?’

“Please try to see things from his perspective, as Suna is often misunderstood.”

Putting down the clipboard on the bench, you run outside to try and find Suna. Fall has never been kind to Hyogo, as rain pelts down from the sky, fogging your ability to try and see Suna. You call out his name, but your volume is minute in comparison to the strength of the rain.

Running into the open hallway, you look left and right to try and find the familiar boy. But, no luck. Your heart begins to ache at the realisation that you had no idea where Suna is. You didn’t know what he was doing all by himself in weather like this. Inside, you sincerely hope that he didn’t run out in the street.

‘Oh God, what if he did?’

Out of sheer panic, you run towards the direction of the gate, praying to the heavens that he didn’t do the latter. With rain coming down this hard, you knew that driver’s wouldn’t be able to see as clearly as they usually do. And the thought of Suna running into the street in hopes of getting his comfort jelly chuupets at the convenience store down the road doesn’t make you feel better at all.

You run out the gate, looking towards the direction of the store, failing to catch Suna or any person resembling him standing in the vicinity of it. Trying to get nearer and get a closer look, the sound of a blaring horn fills your ears. Turning to the left, you see a car heading your way, swerving side to side in a skidding motion. The road was so slippery in this type of weather, but why couldn’t you move?

The car was getting closer and your feet felt like they were stuck on the ground.

‘Why can’t I move?’

“Y/N!” Your body jerks back to the side. The car swiftly passes the both of you, getting back onto its regular general direction before driving further down the road. You feel your heart beating profusely, your heaving chest moving up and down in hopes of slowing it. “Are you stupid?! What do you think you’re doing?!?”

Looking up to thank your saviour, Suna’s panicked face greets you causing you to go silent. Both at the same time, you feel relief and stress seeing his face. Mostly relief because you’ve finally found him after all the events that occured today.

“Answer me—“

“Idiot!” Pushing him back, Suna stands there stunned while you clench your fists by your sides. “What—What do you think you’re doing, getting into fights, running out in the rain…are you a child?!? What is going on with you??”

Suna stands there silently.

“And don’t just stand there, I ran out in the road because, because I thought you went to buy your stupid chuupets that you love so much down at the convenience store! You are like a child, wanting fucking food when you’re angry or stressed. You know, I shouldn’t have come out here. In the rain, getting all wet. But you know what Suna, you know what’s pathetic? This, running in shitty weather like this, wouldn’t only be the most drastic thing I do for you.

Suna, for months, I-I’ve been buying expensive ass electrolyte packets, because I know you wouldn’t drink regular water. You only drink water that tastes like fruit juice. That’s from my own money by the way! I also cook you food, that I spend time out of my nights, and sometimes mornings, because you are picky! I know you don’t like cafeteria food, so I just threw my food into the circle, hoping to God that you just might like it! And-And let’s not forget about my towel, my hand sewn, hand washed, machine dried towel. I bring it for you fresh everyday Suna! I know you don’t like the rough school towels, so I brought mine with my initials!

And do I get noticed? No! I never got a ‘thank you’, or even a nod of recognition?! I have Atsumu or Osamu return my bento box in silence, even my towel, thrown into the pile with the rest of the team’s towels, and I get called annoying. I slave myself every day, Suna, just to get your attention. But I don’t think you realise that, I don’t have to do these things. I have never, ever, forced myself to do these things.

I am sorry, if I smother you Suna. I just love you so fucking much that I don’t realise the things I do to care for you, are exhausting.

But now, I’m exhausted. Of not receiving the gratitude I expect for the things I do. I was fine for awhile Suna, but now I’m—“

Then, you feel yourself being pushed onto his chest. One of Suna’s arms wrap around your waist, while the other holds your head down gently, as if silencing you from saying the rest of what you wanted to say. You feel shock course through your veins as the last thing you expected was a hug from the Suna Rintarou.

You and Suna stood under the harsh rain, their heartbeats echoing the drumming of waterdrops around them. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in that intimate moment.

“Don’t get tired Y/N, please don’t get tired of me.” Out of nowhere, you feel yourself begin to cry. Wiping your tears onto Suna’s already wet jersey, he manages to sense your exhaustion, urging him to glide his hand on top of your head continuously. “I am grateful Y/N, that you do all these things for me without me having to ask.”

Suna pulls the both of you apart, cradling your face as he attempts to wipe your tears off. Despite his efforts however, you continue to cry, meanwhile struggling to breathe as you attempt to catch your breath. It feels like despite all the tears you’ve cried in private, seeing Suna recognise you brought a whole different wave of emotions.

“Don’t cry, I don’t want to see you crying because of me.” At that moment, Suna ponders for a bit as you see him look at you. You feel yourself freeze as he leans down to plant two kisses on both of your cheeks, an effort to dry your tears. Putting his forehead on yours, his thumbs continuously brush your jawline, as if he was admiring you. “It’s difficult for me to say Y/N, but I love you.”

Your eyes widen.

“I’ve loved you since elementary when you pushed that little boy off the swing after he pushed me off. I’ve loved you since middle school when you would sneakily put chuupets on my desk, even if you thought I didn’t know. You’re beautiful Y/N. And, I’m sorry for not thanking you earlier for everything you’ve done for me. I’m not brave like you, I can’t show the people I love that I care for them.”

“B-But the bento…”

“Of course I ate it. It hurts me to think that I didn’t, I just always asked Atsumu or Osamu to bring it back. You make me nervous Y/N. I can’t confidently walk up to you when you get prettier every time my eyes turn to you.

You make me weak, Y/N.” You huff, sniffling as Suna lands another kiss on the tip of your nose. He smiles and brings you in for another hug, but this time, your arms wrap around him tightly.

It is difficult to love Suna Rintarou.

It was a path fraught with uncertainties and moments of doubt. But as you stood there, holding the rain-soaked figure before you, you knew that the journey was worth it. Because in the depths of his guarded heart, you had found a love that was as powerful as it was fragile, as beautiful as it was challenging. And you were determined to weather the storm, to be the unwavering presence that helped him navigate the complexities of love and vulnerability.

#haikyuu #haikyuu anime #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyuu hurt/comfort #suna rintarou #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro fic #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintarou angst #suna rintarou fluff #suna rintarou hurt/comfort #suna rintarō #suna rintaro imagine #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintaro scenarios

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makoodles · 1 year ago

Text

ミtìohakx

[tI.o."hak’] P F n. hunger

🍓 pairing: tsu'tey x human fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, tsu'tey pov, misunderstandings, vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), reader has nipple piercings, size kink, human x na'vi sex

🍓 wordcount: 18k

masterlist

it's been far too long since i wrote for my grumpy boy, so here were go! tsu'tey is really horny in this one guys lmao i'm sorry

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

There is something wrong with Tsu’tey.

Like, seriously wrong.

This isn’t necessarily a new sentiment to him; he’s been wondering if there’s something fundamentally broken in him for some time now, as if Sylwanin’s death had damaged him more than he could even tell. In the long and painful years following her death, he never so much as glanced at another woman with passing interest. In fact, he had convinced himself that he was no longer capable of experiencing anything even close to romantic or sexual feelings with anyone other than his first love.

Even when he was betrothed to Neytiri, his feelings never developed past fond friendship. Their mating would have been a duty, albeit one he was content enough to perform if it meant that he could serve the clan and maybe, finally, put some of that awful, bone-deep loneliness behind him. But while he loved Neytiri dearly, he could never drum up any real physical attraction beyond the aesthetic appreciation of knowing that she was a beautiful woman.

And that was fine. Tsu’tey never really had a problem with that. He had mostly resigned himself to never experiencing that kind of love again, even if the thought left him hollow on the inside. He’s always been proud to be the kind of man that throws all he has into all into his community and friendships and duties, but he can’t help but wish things were different. It feels a little as though he’s standing stagnant while everyone around him moves on.

The Omaticaya rebuild when the Sky People leave; families are built, bonds are made, and the People move forward. Everyone but Tsu’tey, it feels.

Tsu’tey, instead, finds himself tragically, humiliatingly preoccupied with matters that would surely never have even occurred to him before the war with the Sky People. Well, only one matter, really.

Instead of doing what is expected of him by finding a mate and settling down, like most other men his age in the clan, Tsu’tey finds himself distracted in a way that is completely unbecoming. He goes through his usual motions of hunting, weaving, carving, training, and yet he feels distant from it all, as though his thoughts and attention are elsewhere.

When he’s not carrying out his duties, he’s mortifyingly distracted by just one of the little sky demons that lingers around the village. You.

It would have been unthinkable for him only a few years ago. Even now, Tsu’tey can’t help but wonder if some essential part of him is broken. It’s the only way he can think to explain why you have captured his attention so completely.

There’s nothing special about you. Tsu’tey’s not completely delusional; he can recognise that you’re just a regular Sky Person, nothing impressive. You can’t hunt, you are bad at weaving, and you look odd. You are so tiny and weak, nothing like the willowy and strong women of his clan.

And yet, all of your odd differences are what end up endearing you to him. Tsu’tey has always felt compelled to protect, to serve his clan and defend his people. You’re small and soft, with your strange little face and pretty eyes, and you have no way of defending yourself. Perhaps that was how his fascination with you had started, but it’s since grown into a tentative… friendship, almost.

You visit the village almost every day, to help out where you can or to accompany Norm or even sometimes (and Tsu’tey sometimes has to centre himself to make sure he’s not reading too much into your alien behaviour) just to spend time with him.

“Hey, big guy,” You call out, like you always do, sashaying your way across the village towards him.

Tsu’tey doesn’t look up from where he’s sitting outside his hut, carving a small wooden bowl. It takes quite a bit of effort to look unaffected and casual, especially when his tail had begun to curve around his legs from the moment he had picked up on your sweet scent on the breeze.

“Demon.” He greets back. He chances a quick glance up at you from beneath his eyelashes, hoping you don’t notice.

Then he does a double take, his head snapping up to look at you again as he completely forgets to feign disinterest.

Tsu’tey is used to having you around the village, and he’s used to stifling his embarrassing attraction towards you as best he can. What he’s not used to is the sight of you wearing such tiny little shorts, or such a tight top. The alien fabric is stretched tight across your breasts and so thin that he can see the subtle shape of your nipples beneath the taut fabric.

His stomach does an odd sort of flip, leaving him dizzy.

It's not that he’s shocked by your body – you are still entirely covered (and he tries to quash the disappointment that niggles in the back of his head), and he has seen many female bodies before.

But this is you, and he has never seen so much of you before. The sky demons are confusingly modest and oddly ashamed about their bodies, which means that Tsu’tey has simply had to tackle his odd embarrassing attraction to you with nothing more than his imagination. To see you now like this feels like a physical blow.

Tsu’tey inhales so sharply that he nearly chokes on his own breath. “Tawtute, what—?”

“You said we could go swimming in the river today.” You say, raising the weird little hairy ridges on your brows.

Ah, he thinks, a little dazed. He had said that. It had been a moment of madness, on his part. He had been trying to come up with an excuse to invite you to spend more time with him, and the added incentive of getting to show off some of his skills to you had made him over-eager and excited.

“Mn.” He grunts, his eyes glancing down over the length of your legs, your soft squishy skin all exposed by your tiny shorts. They’re hitched high on your hips, which draws his eyes to your waist and then up again to your breasts, where your top clings to the soft round shape of them.

His eyes follow your hips as you cock them to the side, your hands landing on the curve of your waist. Damn. He… he should really be familiar with the shape of you, by now. You’ve been a near constant presence in the village since the moment you had made the decision to stay behind on Pandora to live in the shoddy human outpost in the nearby forest.

He knows what you look like. But he’s never really seen you in clothes this tight and small before. It’s stupid. Really stupid. He can’t really explain why the sight of your squishy little thighs in those shorts has turned his thoughts into a pathetic buzzing mush of white noise.

You tilt your head, obviously waiting for him to say something. Your eyes are all shiny, looking at him with an expectant smile.

“Yes.” Tsu’tey swallows thickly, forcing himself to his feet. “You wish to swim.”

The thought is a little thrilling. Perhaps he will even be able to catch a few fish in front of you as well. Showing off physical prowess is just one way of impressing a potential mate, and while it’s not initially what he had intended with the offer, the idea of putting on a mating display for you makes excited heat simmer low in his belly.

“Well, you offered.” You remind him, biting at your lower lip under your mask. Your mouth looks all glossy and wet, more so than usual; he wants to touch your lips more than anything.

“Yes. I offered.” He nods, looking down at you as you stand in front of him.

Ah, the height difference is going to his head a little – your face is just level with his belly button, your head tilted all the way back so that you can gaze up at him. His cock twitches at the sight.

“Come.” Tsu’tey says, trying to shake off his distraction before he embarrasses himself.

Just like always, you happily follow after him as he leads the way away out of the village towards the forest. He glances over his shoulder a couple of times, just to make sure that you’re still there.

“I was thinking that after swimming, we could go for a walk,” You say, your little legs working overtime in an attempt to keep up with him. “I’ve been craving that fruit you let me try last time. You know, the one that looks like a blue balloon, but is pink on the inside and really sweet?”

He slows down so that you can keep pace with him more easily, his eyes drawn down to you as you walk. You don’t seem to be wearing your strange little chest covering that usually covers your breasts under your other top, which means that your soft breasts are bouncing lightly with every step you take. Tsu’tey nearly trips over his own feet when he notices, because now it’s like he can’t keep his eyes off you.

The Sky People are demons, a plague on his planet and his people. But you are so bright and sweet, always excited to see him and spend time with him. And your soft body is so different to the Na’vi women he’s used to – you have so much give to you, squishy and bouncy where Na’vi women are firm and lean, especially in places like your thighs and breasts and little tummy. Tsu’tey has never struggled with his self-discipline as much as he does around you.

“Kllpxiwll.” He says, his voice coming out a little less strong than he’d like. “Yes. We can walk later.”

You beam at him, making his tail lash around his ankles. Your cheeks squish up when you smile like that, and his fingers itch with the desire to squeeze at your face.

“Great!” You say brightly, before reaching out to take his hand in yours.

This time, Tsu’tey really does trip. He manages to regain his balance quickly enough that there’s a chance you didn’t notice, but then he looks down at you with wide eyes. Your hand is so small, your little slender fingers curling around his much larger palm, and Tsu’tey swears his heart skips over a beat at the feeling.

Ah, you need his hand for the balance – you hold tight to him as he helps you step over logs and through the long glowing grass between the huge trees. You use your grip on him both as leverage to climb over some of the obstacles before you and to make sure that Tsu’tey keeps his pace slow that you can keep up.

You even glance up at him, your expression uncertain and a little vulnerable, as though you’re unsure how he’s going to react to your touch. He can understand why; he’s never been shy about letting his distaste for your kind known.

But you’re different. He wonders if you know it – you must know, right? It must be obvious to you, how he looks at you with starry, moronic eyes.

He looks away, struggling to keep his expression cool and neutral. He lets you hold his hand but doesn’t squeeze back, nervous about how tiny your hand is in his and how he might hurt you without even meaning to.

After a moment or two you withdraw your hand, biting at your lip as a small frown tugs at your brow.

When the two of you reach the river, Tsu’tey turns to you and waits. He feels as though he’s holding his breath, watching and waiting as his stomach turns flips. He feels antsy and itchy, his fingers twitching as he forces his face to remain as still as possible.

You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head as your mouth twitches in amusement. “Is there a reason you’re glaring at me like that, babe?”

Tsu’tey frowns reflexively; you’re always calling him strange little nicknames that he doesn’t understand, and he’s yet to decide whether he likes them or not. He decides to focus on the other part of your sentence.

“I am not glaring.” He protests, though he doesn’t relax his face. This expression mostly comes naturally to him, and he doesn’t really want you to see him open and mushy anyway. “I am—I am looking.”

“Okay,” You drawl, drawing the word out. “Looking at me?”

“No. Get in the water.” He says, and it accidentally comes out sounding like an order.

He’s lucky you’re used to his brash manner and blunt attitude, because you just roll your eyes at him instead of taking offence. That’s part of the reason he finds you so lovely, always so sweet and bright even when he makes a mess of communicating with you. His tail coils, so relieved that he hasn’t messed this up yet with you.

When your small hands reach for the button on your tiny shorts, Tsu’tey can’t help but stare. You push the strange rough blue material down over your thighs, and he takes a steadying breath through his nose as you push them down to your ankles.

It’s the first time he’s seen you so exposed, so vulnerable – so… human. Your body is perfect. Beautiful. Soft and curvier than a Na’vi woman, so much smaller than him. He feels a little guilty about the way he’s looking at you so lecherously, but he can’t seem to stop.

He feels his mouth go dry, but he can't bring himself to look away. He's never seen you like this, and he'd never forgive himself if he missed this opportunity just to look.

You step out of your shorts, left in just that thin white top and tiny bottoms that he has heard you call ‘panties’ before. They are small, more revealing than the loincloths worn by his people, so thin and dainty. They cling to you, and Tsu’tey swears he feels his thoughts dissolve into pure nothingness at the realisation that he can practically see the outline of your—

“You’re coming too, right?”

Tsu’tey blinks, a little dazed. When he speaks, his voices comes out a little too sharp yet again. “What?”

You’re looking at him, your eyebrows raised and scrunched a little as you stare at him. You’re confused, he realises, and it takes a moment to realise that it must look as though he’s been glaring at you yet again.

It’s just... That... is a lot of skin. It feels illicit in a way that he’s not used to, because he doesn’t normally see this much of you. It feels like human modesty is now rotting his brain if this is how he’s reacting to just the sight of your bare legs.

“You good?” You ask, and you sound a little uncertain now. “You look… you look kinda angry.”

Tsu’tey manages a grunt, but he doesn’t trust himself to actually speak. His tongue feels too big for his mouth, and he’s sure his words will just come out clumsy and thick. He glances away from you before picking at the ties of his battle band around his waist, drawing it away from him and settling it aside in the phosphorescent moss. He feels naked without it, though he doesn’t remove his tewng.

“I am not angry.” He says at last, pleased with how steady he sounds.

You just hum, and step away from him towards the water. He watches you go, his gaze trailing over all your soft flesh. This cannot be normal. Human women are not supposed to be this attractive, and Na'vi men are certainly not meant to be attracted to them.

And yet... he can't resist sneaking glances at you whenever the opportunity presents itself. Your bare skin, your soft body, your bouncing breasts, your lips... you’re driving him mad. His twitching cock beneath his loincloth means that there is no chance of pretending he doesn’t know how attracted he is to you.

You step into the water, letting out a breathy noise of surprise at the temperature. “Oh, it’s cold!”

He watches you walk ahead of him into the river, his eyes are drawn to your hips, then your waist, then... he feels his face grow hot. Get a grip, Tsutey. You're being ridiculous.

But... oh Eywa...

Tsu’tey just breathes. He closes his eyes for a moment, just to collect himself. He’s being an idiot. He’s better than this; he is a warrior, a hunter, he has been trained for leadership and has fought alongside Toruk Makto. There is no good reason for a human woman to bring him to his damn knees like this.

You wade in a little deeper, until the running river water gurgles around your thighs. Then a little further, until the current is rippling around the bare skin of your waist. Then you keep going, until you’re submerged up to your neck, and you’re making a scrunched up little face as you hiss through your teeth.

“Shit! How can the water be this cold when it’s so hot out!” You complain again, your nose all wrinkled.

Oh.. you’re just adorable. Tsu’tey feels his fingers twitching again, wanting so badly to touch and squeeze and pinch.

You glance back over at him, and give him an odd little look. “Hey, are you coming? I didn’t come here just to swim by myself!”

Tsu’tey stumbles slightly as he makes his way to the edge of the water. Fuck, he’s just a mess of warring emotions right now. All he seems to be able to do is stare at you with hot, hungry eyes.

He glances away again, unable to keep looking at you any longer. He takes a deep breath and dives into the water, keeping his body straight as an arrow as he spears through the water and surfaces only a few feet from you.

The water is cold, but he finds it refreshing. It shocks some awareness back into him, makes him feel a little more normal and less stunned.

You squeal with laughter as his dive splashes you, throwing your head back as you bob in the water nearby. You paddle a little closer to him, swimming a little deeper until you’re treading water next to him.

“It is cold.” He breathes. It’s the only thing he can think of to say that’s even mildly intelligent, yet it sounds like it falls entirely flat.

But you just giggle as though he’s told a wonderful, highly intelligent joke. His ears twitch, relishing the sound of your laughter.

Tsu'tey swallows thickly, his eyes drawn down to your chest. Your thin white top has turned translucent, and clings to the soft shape of your breasts. Through the thin wet fabric, he can see the prominent shape of your nipples.

“I’ve been looking forward to this swim all day,” You’re saying, blissfully unaware Tsu’tey going through his crisis right at your side. “It’s been hot – honestly, the cold water is a bit of a relief, right?”

“Mngh.” Tsu’tey makes an odd grunting noise, before inhaling sharply and tearing his gaze away from you.

He dips down, allowing the river water to engulf him as it rushes over his head. He half-heartedly hopes he drowns, too, but that thought only lasts a moment before he resurfaces and takes a deep, grounding breath.

He can do this. It’s fine. He enjoys spending time with you, especially when he gets to steal you away from the village and the outpost and gets to enjoy your company away from all the curious eyes of the clan. He likes the feeling of having you all to himself.

He swims with you for a while, enjoying the feeling of the water current running over his skin and stealing looks at you as often as he can without you noticing.

You’re so small and soft, and you look pretty in the glow of the sunlight filtering through the trees that shelter the river. He swallows thickly. It feels like he’s witnessing something he never imagined he’d be allowed to see. Your hips. Your waist. Your soft thighs. Your… everything. Fuck, he wants you.

Eventually, you tire, and paddle your way back to the riverbank. Tsu’tey follows as if he’s been magnetised, orbiting nearby you as you clamber your way back onto the sand. Then you lay out on the bank in the sun to dry off, and Tsu’tey feels his pulse throbs hot and heavy in his throat.

He climbs out after you, his tail swinging low as his eyes trail over your figure. Your wet clothes cling to you, the soft fabric of your panties sticking to your hips and your translucent white top revealing almost everything to him.

He settles next to you, unable to look away from the way your nipples are firm and stiff where they're pressing against the thin top. Then his brow furrows, and he cocks his head.

“Tawtute…” He murmurs before he can think better of it, laying on his side as he looks down at you. “I.. may I ask you a… question?”

“Mhm. Of course.” You say without opening your eyes, enjoying the gentle heat of the sun warming your skin.

Tsu’tey swallows, wonders very briefly if he should keep his thoughts to himself, but his curiosity burns at him. He knows very little about Sky People, and he’s never truly felt any real impulse to learn more. But you’re laying next to him right now, and he finds himself very intrigued indeed about your body and possible… physical differences between you.

“It—Sky People bodies are different to ours,” He says. He attempts to keep his voice steady and as confident as possible, and possibly overcompensates by simply scowling. “It looks—it looks as though you have more nipples than we do. Why is that?”

Your eyes fly open, wide and startled beneath the clear material of your mask, and you stare up at him for a long moment of bewilderment. “I—excuse me?”

Tsu'tey flounders for a moment, thrown off by your tone, heat rushing to his face. "It looks as though—”

You glance down at yourself as he gestures clumsily at your chest, barely covered in your translucent white human fabric. Your expression clears as realisation hits, and then you bite your lip as though you’re trying not to laugh.

“Oh.” You breathe, placing your hand over your breasts. “No, sweetheart. They’re just—they’re just pierced.”

Tsu’tey stares at you uncomprehendingly. “Pierced?”

You nod, and Tsu’tey blinks. The revelation takes him by surprise, though he’s still not entirely certain what you mean by it. Human women pierce their nipples? To him, your breasts are already the most beautiful thing in the world. Why would you want to poke holes through them? What is the thought process behind that?

"Why?" he finally asks, his tone bewildered. "What is the purpose?"

“It’s not.. it’s not that there’s a purpose..” You trail off.

In the ensuing silence you stare at him, as though begging him to understand what you mean, before apparently realising that he isn’t going to. You bite your lip, then glance around as though checking that you’re still alone with him.

“I guess… well, nudity’s not a big deal for Na’vi, right?” You murmur, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your top. “Is it alright if I take this off?”

Nudity certainly isn’t a big deal to his people, not in the way it is for any of the tawtute. The Na’vi are comfortable in their bodies, and so the strange modesty of the Sky People is completely foreign to him. He has seen female breasts every day of his life, the chest coverings worn by the women of his people designed to decorate rather than conceal, and yet he has never in his life been filled with such an all-consuming desire to see a pair of tits before.

“Yes.” He says immediately, keeping his face as cool and unreadable as possible in an attempt at hiding his sheer desperation. “It is no ‘big deal’.”

You hesitate another moment, looking shy and a little embarrassed as you fidget with the hem of your top.

His focus is fully on you now, all his senses trained firmly on the sight of you. The desire to see what lies beneath that flimsy garment is becoming overwhelming.

Let me see, He thinks to himself. Just let me see, and maybe I'll finally be satisfied.

Finally, finally, you tug your top up and off. Tsu’tey inhales so deeply and sharply he nearly chokes on it. His eyes are drawn to your bare chest, transfixed. Your breasts are soft and squishy, perfectly shaped. And for the first time, he sees the small silver bars nestled into your nipples, which are firmed up after the cold of the water. They glitter in the sunlight, capturing his attention and holding it in a vice.

Oh, no, He thinks desperately, feeling a pang of desire deep in his loins. Far from satisfy him, the sight has only made him hunger for more. He wants to touch, especially the odd metal that glitters at your breasts.

“See?” You ask, as if he could have ever missed the sight before him. “My piercings.”

“Mmm.” Tsu’tey manages to get out. His voice is deeper than he had intended, and a little stiff. “I see them.”

You smile, as though you’re waiting for a reaction, but Tsu’tey is a little struck dumb. He watches the light of the sun shining on your wet skin, the way your breasts gently swell and fall with each exhalation of your breath, the subtle gleam of the silver of your piercings. The longer he goes without reacting, the more your expectant smile begins to fade.

“What are they for?” He manages to swallow thickly as he asks.

The question makes you laugh, which isn’t a reaction he had intended but is certainly a sound that he always cherishes.

“They’re not really for anything,” You murmur, reaching up to touch your own breast. “They’re just meant to look good, I guess.”

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes restlessly, and he wants so badly to replace your hand with his much larger one; he knows you would look so small beneath his palms. He glances swiftly at your face, and wonders if you would be upset if he touches the little silver bars that decorate your tits.

“This is… this is what is considered attractive to Sky People?” He asks. It comes out in a croak; too much of his energy is being diverted to trying to keep his hands still and to himself.

Your smile begins to fade again, your brow creasing. “Um… sometimes, I guess. You don’t.. uh, you don’t think so?”

That is a loaded question. How is he supposed to answer that when you’re laying on the riverbank beside him with only a thin, wet scrap of fabric covering your most intimate parts? He already feels as though most of the blood in his body had redirected downwards; his cock is pulsing, enough so that he can’t actually think anymore.

All he can do is grunt like a damn talioang. Your face falls further.

“I guess they must seem kinda strange.” You murmur. You must be growing self-conscious, because you start to cover your chest with your arms.

The sight of you trying to cover that perfect view from him sends a bolt of panic through him, and he just stops short of tearing your hands away again.

“You do not have to cover,” He says quickly, before he can think about it. “Like you said, it—nudity means little to us. I do not care.”

“Right.” You say, your voice gone a little bland. “It means nothing to you.”

Tsu’tey knows that your attitude has changed, fallen a little flat. But you’re laying right there, soft and small and squishy, displaying more of your bare flesh than he has ever seen from you, and he can’t pull his thoughts together.

He feels no better than the moronic young warriors that push each other around and whisper nonstop about the women of the clan. He is a skilled warrior, an excellent hunter, and a good provider for the whole clan – he is also experienced with women, so he can’t understand why the sight of you is turning him into a hormonal teenager again.

“Nothing.” He agrees stupidly, still struggling not to be too obvious with his staring.

You purse your lips, but drop your arms all the same. Tsu’tey tries not to goggle.

Oh no, He thinks miserably to himself as he watches the little barbells in your nipples sparkle in the sun. I really am broken.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

Tsu’tey is quite certain that he’s made a fool of himself in front of you.

He’s never been good at expressing himself or his emotions, and his attraction to you scares him as much as it excites him. He alternates between reticence and putting his foot in his mouth, between being unable to meet your gaze and being unable to look away.

He probably looks deranged. He feels deranged.

To make it worse, he knows that his interest in you is obvious to anyone in the clan that watches him interact with you for even a short time. He feels the eyes on him all the time, watching, often looking vaguely sympathetic, which is somehow worse than the horror he had been expecting.

Mercifully no one has said anything to him just yet. At least, no one of any great importance.

“So, you’re telling me that she was laid out next to you, practically naked, just to show off her pierced tits, and you did nothing?” Jakesully demands, his voice like the constant droning buzz of an irritating insect in Tsu’tey’s ear.

Tsu’tey chews sullenly at some roasted teylu, trying and failing to tune his Olo’eyktan out so that he can enjoy his meal.

“Come on, man, seriously.” Jakesully is nudging him now, like an infernal pest. “She took off all her clothes for you, and you didn’t try to—”

“Ma Jake, there are children here.” Neytiri says primly from Jakesully’s other side. She has also been trying her best to ignore her mate, rocking the baby in her lap, but now she sends him a warning glance. The sting of her glare is dulled due to the fact that she’s visibly trying not to laugh.

“Sleeping babies, they got no idea what I’m talking about.” Jake says dismissively, though he adjusts baby Kiri in his arms and leans into his wife’s side all the same.

Tsu’tey shifts where he’s sitting next to him, and allows his gaze to wander across the gathering. He is still waiting to catch sight of you, to see you approaching from across the campfire.

“I’m just saying, man, you’re so obviously into each other that it’s actually painful to watch—”

Tsu’tey grunts irritably. “I am not discussing this.”

“You like her, and she’s all over you!” Jakesully insists. In his arms, Kiri starts to gurgle, and Jake hurriedly raises her up to his shoulder to rub at her little back.

“She is my friend.” Tsu’tey says stubbornly, focusing on his dinner.

Jakesully scoffs. “I’m your friend, but you don’t see me sitting in your lap or holding your hand or getting naked—”

“We are not friends.” Tsu’tey scoffs.

“Ouch,” Jake drawls, rolling his eyes. “Damn, man. I thought we were close.”

Tsu’tey grumbles, scowling into the distance. The irritating thing is, he thinks that he and Jake are close. Admittedly, they still have their rocky moments; Jakesully has earned Tsu’tey’s respect, but he is also an infuriating man and Tsu’tey has always been easy to rile. But… despite their frequent bickering, Tsu’tey has come to trust his judgements.

Tsu’tey purses his lips and picks at the remaining teylu in his small carved bowl. “You… think that she may return my feelings?”

Jake groans, holding the baby with one hand as he covers his face with the other. “You’re killing me here.”

On Jake’s other side, baby Neteyam starts to fuss in Neytiri’s arms. She sighs, pressing a kiss to her son’s chubby cheek before beginning to rock him gently. She’s been listening with as much patience as she’s capable of, though the whole conversation has been punctuated with her eyerolls and scornful hisses.

“Why do you not talk with her, Tsu’tey?” Neytiri asks in a tone that suggests she thinks both men are idiots. “Explain how you feel to her.”

Tsu’tey just gives her a look of disbelief. It’s like she doesn’t know him at all. When has he ever talked about his feelings before? He prefers to just feel things intensely and then shove it all down very deep until it inevitably bursts right out of him.

It’s been a long time since he’s felt like this; not since he was a teenager fumbling his way through his feelings with Sylwanin. It’s especially embarrassing to know that it’s a sky demon that’s eliciting this reaction from him, and that his closest friends are witnesses to his humiliation.

“I am going to sit with the other tsamsiyu,” Tsu’tey sniffs, pushing himself up from the log. “Perhaps they will have some more intelligent conversation.”

Neytiri scoffs, sounding more scornful than offended. “I doubt it.”

“Besides,” Jake adds, grinning at him over Kiri’s little downy-haired head. “Here comes your little bestie.”

Tsu’tey nearly breaks his neck with how quickly he turns his head, and surely enough there you are. You’re stepping across the gathering, smiling politely at one of the old women who says something to you as you pass by her.

He hastily sinks back down beside Jake, ignoring his pointed snickers.

The closer you get, the more details Tsu’tey can see. You’re all neat and clean, still wearing those tiny shorts. But you’re wearing a different top now, this one green like the verdant leaves of the trees that tower overhead, and now he can see that you’re wearing your odd little breast covering under your top. It pushes your soft breasts up and together in a way that’s very enticing, although he is admittedly a little disappointed by the way your strange little decorated nipples are hidden beneath the padding.

“Hey, big guy.” You call out, your voice as cheerful and bright as always.

Tsu’tey’s ears twitch towards you eagerly, his nerves lighting up at the sound of your voice.

“Tawtute—” He begins to greet, but immediately chokes as you reach them and promptly climb right into his lap.

Oh fuck. His every muscle tightens, and all of his thoughts are frozen at the feel of your soft body moulding to his – you’re so small and so squishy, your soft body yielding so easily to the hard muscle of his chest.

He goes to grab at your hips as you nestle yourself into the cradle of his thighs, before panicking and grabbing at his own legs instead. He grips at his thighs harshly, his nails digging into his own skin hard enough to almost draw blood.

“Hello.” He manages to get out, sounding thick and a little stupid.

“Hi.” You reply, smiling up at him as though you think his inability to speak is adorable.

“Jesus Christ.” Jake mutters from off to the side.

Tsu’tey bares his teeth at him from over your head, but Jake is too busy sharing suggestive looks with Neytiri to even notice.

You shift, and he nearly swallows his tongue when your soft bottom settles neatly over his crotch. He panics as he feels blood rush south, and he hurriedly grabs at your hips to shift you from his crotch to his thigh, hoping that you hadn't felt his body respond in arousal.

“I—I have something for you,” He blurts, grabbing for the small carved wooden bowl he had set carefully by his side; he’s just been waiting for you to arrive. “I collected kllpxiwll berries for you earlier.”

Your eyes widen beneath your breathing mask, a pretty smile brightening up your face. “Oh, these are my favourite.”

“Yes, I know.” Tsu’tey says. His hands are still resting on your hips, enjoying how delicate you feel perched in his lap, but he feels a thin thread of panic underlying his delight. You’re so fragile, and he’s so terrified that his big rough hands will hurt you accidentally.

As you settle your bottom back onto his leg again with the bowl in your hands, he does what he does best and shoves his feelings deep, deep down. He will not allow himself to be driven mad by his desire for a human, however soft and warm and pretty you may be.

“Wow,” Jake drawls from his side. “That was really kind of you, Tsu’tey.”

"It is nothing." he replies, his voice coming out rough. "You are my friend."

It makes him want to bite his own tongue off to have you like this against him, but he forces a relaxed grin anyway. He can feel that it comes out strained, because inside he feels like he’s losing his mind. Your closeness is intoxicating, and he cannot stop himself from brushing his free hand against your thigh.

But you’ve tensed in his lap, the little bowl held tight in your lap. Under your mask, you’ve started to frown.

“Your friend.” You repeat blandly.

Jake winces at his side, and Tsu’tey suspects that he’s already put his foot in his mouth. But your soft, plump ass is seated so damn close to his cock beneath his tewng that he just can’t think straight.

“Yes.” He says dumbly. “We are friends.”

You purse your lips and look back down at the bowl of kllpxiwll berries, picking at them distractedly. “Right.”

Tsu’tey’s tail curls, uncomfortable with your sudden silence. Are you angry with him? His eyes drop down to the fruit he had gathered for you, his stomach sinking. Is it not to your liking?

“Do you not like the kllpxiwll?” He asks, leaning over your shoulder to try and get a glimpse of your face.

He can vaguely hear Neytiri make a sound of pure derision off to the side, but he’s trying his hardest to block both Jake and Neytiri out.

“It’s nice.” You say, though you don’t sound very enthused.

Tsu’tey frowns, but then you move to get comfortable and your ass nestles itself right over the ridge of his hardened cock and he swears that his vision tunnels and turns entirely dark for a second. He panics, then grabs at your hips out of pure reflex and bodily lifts you off of him.

You yelp, obviously startled, your arms windmilling as Tsu’tey thrusts you at Jake before leaping to his feet. He can see the way Jake is staring at him as though he doesn’t know whether he should laugh or not, and the way that Neytiri looks faintly disbelieving, and the way that you look all ruffled and startled as you look up at him as though waiting for an explanation for why you’ve just been so unceremoniously booted off his lap.

“Sorry, I—” Tsu’tey begins, his throat tight and much too dry as he tries desperately to come up with an excuse that has nothing to do with his dick. “You were too heavy.”

Jake’s face screws up in yet another wince before he buries his face in baby Kiri’s shoulder as though he can’t bear to watch Tsu’tey humiliate himself.

You’re still staring up at him from where he had inadvertently dumped you on the ground, your face the picture of confusion and hurt. “I’m too—what?”

Tsu’tey dithers for a moment, feeling terribly exposed. Why had he stood up? It’s only a matter of time before both you and Jake notice that he’s had a very physical reaction to you sitting perched in his lap. Neytiri has already noticed, though she’s been kind enough to direct her gaze pointedly skywards.

“I will fetch you water.” He blurts, before turning on his heel and positively fleeing.

It’s a coward’s move, leaving you confused on the ground like that, but he feels as though if he doesn’t get away from your smooth skin and pretty smile he’s going to drown.

You’re just a human, he tells himself over and over. You’re not supposed to be that attractive. You’re not supposed to do that to me. That was just me being weak.

Tsu’tey only pauses when he’s on the very edge of the gathering, taking a moment to breathe.

You’ve always been such an affectionate little thing, but his nerves can’t take so much physical contact from you. You have no idea how much restraint he is attempting to exert, how difficult it is not to press his face into your throat and leave his scent behind all over you, or to keep his hands to himself instead of allowing them to wander all over your plush skin.

But he doesn’t want to make a move on you; harbouring these desires for a Sky Person is bad enough, but the possibility of being rejected is even worse. Both because of the humiliation of rejection, and because Tsu’tey doesn’t know what he’ll do if you decide it’s too awkward to be around him anymore. He doesn’t actually know what you want from him. You had laid out almost naked next to him, but you hadn’t made any advances either. He isn’t even sure if you like him or if the Great Mother just has a cruel sense of humour.

Tsu’tey is a little clumsy when he grabs at a waterskin, glancing across the gathering. Even from this distance, he can see the unhappy frown on your face as you speak with Jake, who is visibly trying to appease you. Neytiri has taken both of the babies in her arms, tucking Neteyam into the woven net carrier on her chest so that she can hold Kiri in the crook of her elbow as Jake speaks to you.

Tsu’tey winces a little and glances away again, reluctant to watch the aftermath of his outburst unfold.

A few of the warriors nearby are drinking fermented pasuk liquor, and Tsu’tey wordlessly takes a skin and takes a long gulp of it. His silent drinking earns him a couple of odd looks, but none of them seem willing to comment on it and he’s too busy drinking and trying to ignore the ache in his crotch to explain himself.

“Are you well, Tsu’tey?” One of them finally asks, a little hesitantly.

“Fine.” Tsu’tey says brusquely. His manner does not invite any further questions, and his peers fall obligingly silent. “I am taking this.”

He clutches the skin as he prepares to return to his place at the cookfire beside you, though he pauses to take another drink before he goes anywhere. From this distance, you look a little calmer; you’re listening closely to whatever Jake is saying, nodding with a little frown of concentration.

“Tsu’tey?”

He nearly jumps out of his damn skin. He had been so distracted that he hadn’t noticed the soft-footed approach of Saeyla, who has come up on his other side.

“Saeyla.” He greets, his ears pinning back in apprehension.

Saeyla smiles, but doesn’t blink. The effect is unnerving, and gives the impression of a predator watching him. He takes another deep drink from the skin, hoping that perhaps it will help him come up with some way to salvage his pride.

“You look stressed, karyu.” She notes, taking a careful step closer.

Tsu’tey tenses, his brow drawing into his usual scowl. “I am not your karyu anymore. You have passed your iknimaya.”

Saeyla just nods, still smiling a little. The air between them feels uncomfortable, but Tsu’tey wonders if he’s the only one that notices. He still feels rather awkward about how he had rejected Saeyla so harshly that night she had approached him beneath the Tree of Souls. He does not regret rejecting her, but he does feel as though he could have perhaps done so a little more gently than he had.

But while Saeyla has been avoiding him in the months since, it seems that now she is starting to get over some of the hurt he had inadvertently caused. It is a relief to see that she has decided to take a mature approach.

“I was wondering if you could help me,” She says, tilting her head. “One of the beams in my kelku collapsed, and it is too heavy for me to lift by myself.”

From the other side of the gathering, Tsu’tey can see you get to your feet and a bolt of panic shoots through him. Why are you standing? Where are you going? Are you leaving?

“Uh, yes,” Tsu’tey says distractedly, beginning to step away from Saeyla and back towards where he had left you. “I can help.”

“Later? After the gathering?” Saeyla asks, beginning to follow him.

“Yes, yes, later.” Tsu’tey agrees, waving her off before hurriedly leaving her behind.

Walking through the dinner gathering is like attempting an obstacle course, and Tsu’tey is distracted as he tries to avoid stepping on the tails of the gathered clan. Luckily, many seem to sense his urgency, and they sweep their tails close to their bodies as they watch Tsu’tey hurry back over to where he’d left you with Jake and Neytiri.

“Tawtute,” He says when he reaches you again, his ears pinning back. “Your water.”

You look a little surprised at his abrupt return, though you bite your lip and take the waterskin he’s offering all the same. “Oh.. thank you.”

As you pull your mask up and raise the waterskin to your mouth to take a sip, Tsu’tey spares a glance at Jake and Neytiri. Their expressions are about what he had expected; Jake still looks as though he’s trying not to laugh, while Neytiri looks distinctly pitying. Tsu’tey winces, and quickly looks away again.

You’ve only just taken a sip of the water he’s brought you when you choke on it, coughing and spluttering. “Oh— what the fuck—” You gasp, hurriedly fixing your mask back over your face as you heave for breath.

Tsu’tey’s stomach sinks, glancing at the skin that he had handed to you and then at the second one still in his hand.

“Uh—wrong one.” He grunts, snatching the skin of pasuk liquor back out of your hand before handing you the other one that’s filled with water. “… Sorry.”

You’re staring at him with some disbelief now, your eyes watering a little from the strength of the alcohol beneath your exo-mask. “Have you been drinking?”

“No.” Tsu’tey scowls, then amends, “A little.”

You goggle at him with a look of faint astonishment, before you turn to look at Jake. Tsu’tey shifts, feeling rather unfairly jealous, and scowls when he sees you and Jake share a significant look.

“Right.” You say. You sound a little stiff, but you manage to conjure up a sweet smile all the same. “Well. I’m, uh, I’m going to head back to the outpost.”

“Oh.” Tsu’tey says. He hides his disappointment the best that he can, keeping his face still as his tail curls down by ankles.

“But, maybe you could walk me home?” You continue, your eyelashes batting at him.

For the first time, Tsu’tey realises that you look a little different. Your eyelashes are darker and longer, your skin tone smoothed out and even, your cheekbones a little shiny. Your lips look plumper and glossier too, a little redder than their natural tone.

He blinks at you, distracted and a little flustered by your appearance.

“Yes.” He says moronically, hastily passing off the skin full of liquor to Jake, who looks at it in bewilderment.

That makes you brighten, and you reach for his hand hesitantly as though you think he may pull away from you. Tsu’tey watches the way your small fingers intertwine with his much thicker ones, and feels his pupils expand as his tail coils in excitement.

He’s aware of the glances and whispers he’s getting from the rest of the gathered clan, and the irritating eyebrow wiggles he’s getting from Jake, the wolfish yet encouraging grins he’s getting from the warriors that he had taken the alcohol from, but he’s not focusing on any of it. All of his attention is directed towards you as you lead the way towards the forest.

“You look… nice tonight.” He murmurs, low enough that it’s just you that can hear. It comes out awkward, but he means it genuinely.

You glance up at him, and your face relaxes into a smile. You look so damn sweet, clinging to his hand and beaming at him. His heart is thudding hard enough against his chest that he swears it should be visible from the outside, and his own mouth twitches into a hesitant smile in return.

“Yeah?” You ask, your little white teeth gleaming in the remnants of the firelight as you lead the way towards the forest. “I put on a little makeup to come see you.”

Tsu’tey has no idea what that means, but he likes the idea of you doing something specially for him. He feels rather smug as he follows along after you, taking small steps to try to match your pace.

The two of you have only just reached the treeline when Tsu’tey hears a call of his name, and he pauses and glances over his shoulder to see that it’s Saeyla. She’s jogging after him, her ears pricked high in interest.

“Tsu’tey,” She says with a coy smile. “You are still coming to my kelku later?”

You pause at his side, turning to watch her approach. Tsu’tey feels flustered, though he can’t put his finger on why. Your gaze is intense when it comes to rest on the side of his face, waiting for his response.

“Yes, later.” Tsu’tey agrees, eager to be rid of her.

Saeyla smiles, satisfied, her eyes drifting once to you at his side before she turns and saunters away.

Pleased to be alone with you once more, Tsu’tey turns back to you. He can hardly contain his feelings; his ears keep twitching, his tail is coiling and flicking in anticipation, and he can’t tear his eyes away from you. It’s so far from his usual demeanour that it’s embarrassing, but you don’t seem to notice; you’ve never been very good at picking up on Na’vi body language.

You let go of his hand and start walking again faster than Tsu’tey had been expecting, and he jolts into action to try and catch up with you. Your lips are pursed, all glossy and very appealing, and Tsu’tey almost walks into a low-hanging tree bough as he’s staring at you.

His desire for you is simmering at a low boil in his belly, impossible to ignore. It makes him ungainly, clumsy with his limbs and his words, makes him uncharacteristically stupid.

How is he supposed to pursue this? The ways of Sky People confuse him, though he has tried his best to understand you and your ways of thinking. He doesn’t know the customs of human mating, and he doesn��t want to accidentally harm or offend you. Perhaps he would be better off waiting for you to make an advance, but to even think of you making such a move makes him feel so... vulnerable. It's terrifying.

It takes a few moments to realise that he’s been so lost in his own thoughts that he hasn’t noticed the silence that’s settled between the two of you. He clears his throat and increases his pace so that he’s fallen in stride with you.

“You are quiet, tawtute.” He says carefully, questioningly.

He’s not expecting you to scoff, nor shoot him such a bland, unimpressed stare.

“Are you being serious?” You demand.

Tsu’tey blinks. He’s surprised by your sudden change in mood, and wonders if he should be treading carefully now. These sudden attitude changes are bewildering; is this a human thing?

“Yes,” He says slowly. “I am being serious.”

“Unbelievable.” You mutter, promptly speeding up once more.

You don’t get very far – your legs are comically shorter than his, and it takes very little effort to keep up with you.

The outpost is not far from the village, and even with your short legs the two of you arrive at it in no time. To Tsu’tey’s confusion, you march up to the entrance with hardly a second glance at him.

“Tawtute—?” He begins, stepping after you as you ascend the little steps up to the door.

You whirl, startling him into taking a little step back.

“You’re going to Saeyla’s after this?” You demand.

Tsu’tey stares at you, wondering if you’ve gone mad. Why are you asking him this when you had been present for the conversation?

“Yes.” He says slowly. “She asked me to.”

You purse your lips again. “Saeyla, your old student?”

“Yes.” Tsu’tey repeats, beginning to frown.

“Saeyla, who asked you to mate?”

“There is only one Saeyla in the clan.” Tsu’tey points out, a little confused.

Your nostrils flare, and he realises a moment too late that you do not like that answer at all. He flounders for a moment, trying to find a way to salvage the conversation, but he doesn’t fully understand what you’re irritated about.

“She asked for help,” He says, keeping his voice low. “She wishes for help with her kelku.”

“No doubt.” You say archly, your eyes narrowing. “I guess she’s a friend of yours as well.”

Tsu’tey would not have gone so far as to call Saeyla a friend, but he supposes that she had made an extra effort to approach him to mend some of the awkwardness between them. Tsu’tey had always interpreted their relationship as a mentor-student one, so her abrupt confession the night before the clan had gone to war with the Sky People had taken him entirely by surprise.

“In a way.” He says, unsure how to express all of that.

Your funny little alien face seems to tremble for a moment, settling into an odd expression. Not for the first time, Tsu’tey wishes you had proper ears and a tail so that it would be easier for him to tell what you’re thinking.

“Right.” You say, your voice a little dull. “Well, that’s great.”

But then you turn around and march up to the door of the outpost, and it hisses open to let you in. Tsu’tey perks up, frowning. Are you leaving now? You’ve never left without giving him some kind of little hug or squeeze to his hand, or a promise to see him tomorrow.

“Tawtute—” He begins, but you don’t turn around.

“Goodnight, Tsu’tey.”

“I will see you tomorr—” He begins, but the door slides shut with a firm hiss before he can finish.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

It takes most of the day before Tsu’tey realises that something is wrong.

Hardly a day has gone by in the last few months that you haven’t shown up at the village to watch him train and cook, or to entice him out swimming or walking or gathering. While it was once met with annoyance on Tsu’tey’s part, he has come to enjoy your company. He looks forward to your arrival now, his whole body primed and eager as he waits for you to come to the village.

But the following day, you’re nowhere to be seen.

You don’t arrive for the morning meal, and you never come to watch him train. He waits around in the afternoon, trying to look busy as he waits for you to come to the village. When you don’t show up, uneasiness begins to creep in.

He waits for dinnertime, but you don’t come to eat with him either.

He eats in silence, frowning broodily into the fire and casting frequent glances towards the forest as he waits to catch a glimpse of you. He has to deal with sympathetic and questioning glances from Jake and Neytiri all evening, which makes his skin itch. They don’t ask questions, which arguably makes it worse.

Tsu’tey doesn’t even make it to the end of the meal before he stands, making the decision to seek you out instead of waiting around.

“Good luck, man.” Jake mutters rather ominously.

Tsu’tey doesn’t bother with a reply, abandoning his half-eaten food as he marches into the forest. He’s irritated to find that he’s worried. You had been in poor humour the night before, and he’s a little bit anxious about why.

It doesn’t seem like a coincidence that your mood and attitude had changed so drastically after the two of you had crossed the human boundary of nudity. Had he gone too far? Had you been uncomfortable? Perhaps you had realised that he was looking at you in a way that decidedly surpassed friendship, and you didn’t like it.

The outpost is a shoddy eyesore of human architecture, and it makes Tsu’tey’s nose wrinkle everytime he sees it. Despite all the time he’s spent with you, he rarely visits the outpost itself, but needs must.

It takes a frustratingly long moment for him to work out the mechanism of the door, and then he has to stand there with his tail whipping around impatiently as the door compresses shut and the atmosphere is forcibly converted to air that’s breathable for humans. When the second door opens up to allow him into the outpost itself, he muscles his way in and takes one of the stupid little masks to loop around his neck so that he can take infrequent sips of air.

The outpost is cluttered with demon technology and strange furniture, and Tsu’tey picks his way around the metal floor with his nose wrinkled. He dislikes the way it feels against his bare feet.

The first person that sees him is Norm, who’s sitting at one of the messy desks with his head in his hands. It’s rare to see him in his human form, his odd dreamwalker body tucked away for the night, but Tsu’tey grunts a greeting out nonetheless.

Norm doesn’t react the way he had expected. He jerks to his feet, eyes widening at the sight of him, and he blurts, “Oh, thank god. You’re here to apologise, right?”

That gives Tsu’tey pause, and he stares at Norm in some bewilderment. “Apologise?”

Norm doesn’t appear to hear him, too busy glancing over his shoulder towards the back of the outpost as he scurries a little closer.

“Man, she’s been upset all day.” Norm keeps his voice low, as though he’s worried you’ll hear. “Just—go in there and talk to her.”

Tsu’tey frowns, but he’s already drifting towards the back of the outpost. The shoddy building is split into several sections; one for working, one for recreation, one for sleeping. There’s probably more, but Tsu’tey has never bothered looking too closely at it. All he knows is that Norm has gestured to the back of the building, towards the sleeping area.

“She is resting?” He asks, keeping his voice low to match Norm’s.

Norm scoffs. “Uh, no, I wish. She got some of that fruit wine you guys drink at celebrations. She’s a little bit… uh…”

Ah. You have been drinking. Tsu’tey feels curiosity bubble up in his chest; he’s never seen you drunk before. In this moment, he wants to see nothing more.

“I will speak with her.” He murmurs, before leaving Norm behind in favour of ducking into the back section of the outpost.

The building is rickety and mostly partitioned with fabric curtains rather than the doors that the Sky People tend to favour. As such, Tsu’tey can hear the way Norm is shooing whatever other demons are left over out of the building, presumably to give him some privacy with you.

He finds you laid out in a bed near the back, floppy-limbed and sloe-eyed as you speak with another sky demon. You’re talking with your hands, clearly feeling very passionate about whatever the subject you’re discussing is.

Tsu’tey lets his eyes wander over you, enjoying the brief moment he has before you realise he’s there. You’re wearing thin white fabric shorts covered in some sort of blue pattern, and a small little top that only reaches your midriff. You look so comfy, so warm and soft in your cosy little bed as you drink Omaticayan fruit wine and complain to your friend. Tsu’tey feels a buzzing start up in his belly and the tips of his fingers; he wants to touch you so badly it hurts.

The other sky demon spots him first, her eyes widening at the sight of him as she leaps off the bed. It takes a beat longer for you to spot him, but then you’re scrambling to your feet as well.

“Tsu’tey—” You start, almost spilling the fruit wine in your hand all over your bed. “What are you—”

“You did not come to the village today.” He says before you can finish, stepping closer to your bed.

The ceilings in the outpost are high to accommodate the bodies of the dreamwalkers, so he towers over you as kneel up on your bed, frowning up at him. He feels his cock twitch; he knows he’s bigger than you, obviously, but the size difference between you feels so stark now that he’s looking at you all curled up in your bed, rumpled and a little disheveled from the wine.

“I’ll—I’ll see you later!” Your friend blurts, before turning and rushing out.

Satisfied now that he is alone with you, Tsu’tey allows himself to sink to his knees by your bedside. Even on his knees, he is slightly taller than you in your bed.

You look a little flustered, clutching your cup of wine to your chest as you blink at him with wide eyes. It draws his eyes to your breasts, and with a little thrill of delight he sees that the fabric is sheer enough for him to get a good look at the outline of your nipples all firmed up beneath your clothes.

He so rarely sees you without the mask, and he can’t help but notice how sweet your little face looks without the clear barrier. Your eyes are all glossy and a little hazy from the wine, and you’re looking up at him as though you can’t quite believe he’s there.

“Are you alright?” He asks quietly. The moment feels so delicate, as though he might inadvertently shatter it with a raised voice, so he keeps his voice low and even as he reaches out to stroke over your squishy cheek with a single finger.

To his surprise, you jerk away from him, once again almost sloshing the wine all over yourself. You roll off the bed, holding your cup high, until you’re on your feet in front of him.

“Yes!” You say, and your voice comes out high-pitched and a bit shaky. “Fine, I’m fine. Why are you here?”

For a moment, Tsu’tey just stares at you. You’ve never pulled away from his touches. It’s always been him that’s been jittery around you, nervous in case he hurts you or pushes too far. But now you’re wobbling away from him and avoiding his gaze, and that makes something that feels a lot like panic settle into his bones.

“You are upset.” Tsu’tey notes, shuffling a little closer to you on his knees as you retreat.

“No, no, everything is fine,” You’re insisting, visibly unsteady on your feet as you totter around. “I don’t know why you’re here.”

It shouldn’t be cute, but Tsu’tey is coming to admit to himself that he finds everything about you unnervingly endearing. He watches as you struggle to straighten out your rumpled little clothes, admiring the way the thin fabric clings to you. You look embarrassed and a little self-conscious, as though he’s caught you out.

“I was waiting for you,” He murmurs, reaching for you again. He keeps his hands slow, as though approaching a wounded nantang. You’re such a jittery little thing, but you don’t pull away this time, allowing him to place a hand carefully on your hip. “You did not come to see me today.”

“I figured you’d be busy.” You say, your tone snippy and a bit bratty. “Thought you’d go and hang out with Saeyla today.”

Tsu’tey stares at you. What does Saeyla have to do with this? Is this why you are so upset?

“Syulang,” He murmurs, foregoing his usual nickname for you for a much softer one. “You always have much to say. Please talk to me. I am not understanding why you are angry with me.”

For a moment, he thinks that you aren’t going to speak to him at all. But then you grip your little cup of wine and raise it to your lips, drinking one deep gulp before looking at him in the eye with fiery determination.

“I’m embarrassed,” You snap. “I’ve been basically throwing myself at you for months now, so excuse me if my ego is a little bit bruised. The least you could have done would be to let me down gently instead of letting me embarrass myself in front of everyone—”

Tsu’tey goggles at you, hardly able to believe what you’re saying. “Tawtute—”

“No,” You interrupt sharply, pointing your finger towards him. “Don’t. You said I could talk now.”

Tsu'tey falls obediently silent. His tail curls around his thigh; he’s a little surprised by the way he physically reacts to your sharp tone. He’s never heard you sound so firm before.

“I’ve been—I’ve been wearing all that silly makeup, and wearing all those skimpy tight clothes because I thought you’d look at me more!” You continue, your voice trembling a little. “I’ve been following you around like a pathetic puppy, and sitting in your lap at dinnertime, and holding your hand, and—and—”

You’ve been hoping for him to look at you more? Couldn’t you tell that all he ever did was look at you?

“And then you just tell me that I’m not attractive, and you toss me out of your lap, and tell me that we’re just friends, and you tell me right to my face that you’re going off to sleep with your ex-girlfriend—”

Tsu’tey sputters so hard at that that he nearly spits, horrified.

“I never—” He starts, his eyes wide as his tail curls under his legs, his ears pinning back.

“You did!” You burst out, teary-eyed. “When I was practically naked in front of you, I waited for you to say something, to give any sort of indication that you might like what you were seeing, but you just glared at me and said nothing at all!”

Ah. Tsu’tey has never hated his resting scowl as much as he does in this moment.

“And then yesterday! You said we’re just friends, then you threw me off your lap, and then you said you were going to Saeyla’s kelku right after walking me home—” You continue, beginning to really work yourself up.

“No!” Tsu’tey blurts, reaching out and grabbing at your hand. His blue palm engulfs your much smaller one, and he holds it as delicately as he can. “No, you have misunderstood, syulang.”

“God, I don’t even know why I like you,” You sniffle. “You’re so rude.”

“But you do,” Tsu’tey murmurs, his eyes still wide at the sheer novelty of it. “You like me. You cannot take it back now.”

“Oh, you’re such a dick,” You hiss, yanking your hand out of his. “Did you come here just to rub this in my face—”

“I threw you out of my lap because you were sitting on my cock and I didn’t want you to notice how hard you made me.” The words escape Tsu’tey’s mouth before he can think about it, but you finally fall silent.

You look a little stunned, actually, and Tsu’tey figures that he’d better start talking quickly before you come back to yourself and remember that you’re angry with him.

He pulls your cup out of your hand and raises it to his mouth, draining the wine in it himself in an effort to cultivate some liquid bravery. The taste bursts sharp and syrupy across his tongue. Of course, he thinks as he licks a dark drop from his lip, you would favour the cloying sweet wine. It suits you.

“Syulang, pretty girl, I do not like when you are upset.” He murmurs, shuffling closer on his knees. You don’t pull away, watching him come and allowing him to rest his hands on your hips. “Please listen.”

You’re still gaping at him, clearly a little thrown off by him stealing your wine from you. He takes advantage of your momentary silence by launching into his explanation. He hardly knows where to begin, but he decides to start with the most heinous accusation.

“I have never been intimate with Saeyla,” He murmurs, his thumbs stroking over your hips. “Never, tawtute. I have not been intimate with anyone in a very long time.”

Your throat bobs a little nervously, but you don’t interrupt.

“I have been taken with you for many, many months now,” He admits, and his ears flatten a little in embarrassment. He is not used to discussing his feelings, and it feels unnervingly vulnerable. “I know that I am grumpy, and rude, and I do not always express myself well. I have never been good at talking, and I can be too arrogant for my own good—”

You breathe out a shaky laugh and sway a step closer, as though you’re hardly aware what you’re doing. Tsu’tey’s grip tightens carefully on your hips, his breath catching in his chest as he urges you closer yet again.

“I have been so full of desire that it has been difficult to think,” He confesses in a low whisper. “It has been humiliating. I had thought— I did not want to scare you—”

He never gets a chance to finish his explanation. He’s partway through his sentence when you launch yourself into his arms, and he cuts himself off in favour of wrapping his arms around you to stop you from bowling the two of you over.

You start kissing his face all over, peppering eager little butterfly kisses all over the tanhì across his forehead and cheeks and all over his flat nose. He can’t help the delighted rumble that’s ripped out of his chest at the display of affection, and he tries to follow your lips with his face when you start to pull away.

“You’re so stupid,” You whisper, and Tsu’tey is so pleased that you’re smiling again that he doesn’t even feel offended about that. “I’ve been jumping in your lap and holding your hand every chance I’ve gotten. I took my clothes off and sunbathed practically naked with you, and showed you my tits—”

“I thought we were being friends.” He says thickly, leaning forward again in the hopes that you’ll give him another kiss. Even on his knees in front of you as you stand, he is so much larger and bulkier than you; it makes him want to tuck you away and keep you safe forever.

You groan, tilting your head back as though you’re in pain. “Tsu’tey. You’re killing me here.”

He can’t resist the temptation of your head tilted back with your throat bared, and leans forward to press his face into the crook of your neck. He rubs his cheek against your pulse point, feeling satisfaction bloom in his stomach as his scent is spread all over the vulnerable skin of your throat.

“I am sorry, syulang,” He murmurs, his lips brushing over your pulse. He feels you shudder against him, and clutches you tighter. “I thought it was obvious how I felt. The whole clan knows. Do you not see how they watch us?”

The laugh that leaves your mouth is a little thready, and your hands come to rest on Tsu’tey’s shoulders for balance as he nuzzles into your shoulder.

“I thought they were looking at me,” You whispered. “Because I was so obvious about how I liked you.”

Tsu’tey shakes his head, trying to hide the silly grin on his face into your soft shoulder. You like him. All of those months of ridiculous pining and yearning and humiliating stifled desire, only to find out that you desired him too.

“So…” You whisper, and he can hear the smile in your voice. “So, you did like my piercings, then?”

Tsu’tey groans, his fingers spreading wide over your back as he pulls you closer. You’re so much smaller than him that his hand spans almost the whole width of your back, and his heartrate picks up as he feels your soft body press into him.

“Yes,” He murmurs, his ears pinning back in muted shame at the admission. “I liked them.”

The smile that breaks over your face at that is almost blinding, and he’s surprised by your enthusiasm when you grab at his jaw and haul his face closer so that you can capture his lips with your own.

The fact that he’s kissing you nearly stalls his brain, but then he feels the softness of your lips and the wet heat of your tongue, and it feels as though his nerves are set alight. He grunts, using the hand on your back to hold you close against him as he kisses you back eagerly.

He’s trying to be as cautious as possible, worried about hurting you, but you don’t seem to share his concern. In fact, your fervor surprises him. You push at his shoulders, and though you’re not strong enough to shift him he follows your unspoken order anyway, until you’ve guided him all the way back to your bed.

He gasps, his vision going a little blurry as you begin trailing kisses along his jaw. He grabs at the mask to take a few clumsy breaths of air, his body hot and tense as you kiss him.

“Bed,” You breathe, pushing at his shoulders. “Get on the bed.”

“Tawtute,” He says, swallowing thickly. “Should we— do you wish to take this slow?”

You pause then, pulling back a little so that you can level him with a look. He’s always found your strange little face difficult to read, but even he can tell that you look decidedly unimpressed right now.

“You think I want to take this slow?” You repeat, nose crinkling. But then your expression grows a little unsure, and you start to pull away. “Oh. Do you want to take this slow?”

“No.” Tsu’tey says, far too quickly.

The two of you just look at each for a moment, blinking. Then Tsu’tey stands, his knees slightly wobbly after kneeling before you for so long, and sinks down onto your bed. It’s a tight fit, the bulk of his body hunching forward slightly as his knees bunch up, but his slight discomfort is forgotten immediately when you climb up into his lap.

Over the last few months, you have sat in his lap many times. This time is different – this time, you’re straddling his crotch, your lovely thighs bracketing his hips as your soft bottom rests over his cock. You’re still kissing him, your soft lips trailing all over his jawline then up to his mouth again, swallowing the appreciative grunts that pour from his mouth.

When he had imagined this, often late at night with his cock in his hand, he had pictured you soft and eager and sweet – and you are all of those things, but nothing could ever have prepared him for how hungry you are, how impatient and greedy you are as you push him back onto your bed and follow him down. Your bodies are pressed so tight together that there’s hardly an inch of air, yet you seem determined to wriggle even closer.

Tsu’tey moans quietly, leaning back among your threadbare pillows as you do your best to devour him. Your mouth is small, but you happily open it wide as you lick into his mouth, your little tongue tracing over his sharp canines in a way that makes him shiver.

“Can’t believe we had this conversation when I’m in my fucking pajamas,” You murmur into his mouth, pressing your soft fabric-covered tits against his wide chest. “I wanted to be wearing something sexy for this.”

All he can do is close his eyes against the onslaught of your lips and teeth on the exposed skin of his neck. Your small hands smooth over the planes of his chest, hot and possessive as they crawl over the front of his body.

“You are very beautiful, syulang.” Tsu’tey breathes, his hands finding a firm hold on your waist as your weight settles over him.

Then you grind down, and he’s already so aroused but now he can feel the heat of your pussy through those tiny damn shorts of yours and the noise that’s torn from his chest is completely undignified.

He grabs at you. It’s rough and presumptuous and honestly Tsu’tey isn’t even sure it’s a conscious decision, but before he knows it he’s grabbed you by the waist and is pulling you down to grind against his cock.

“Fuck,” You gasp, and Tsu’tey nearly loses it. “Oh god.”

You shuffle back a little, and Tsu’tey nearly audibly whines when he loses that glorious friction over his cock. But it turns out that you’ve only moved so that you have access to his loincloth, which you promptly begin to pull at.

“Mawey, yawntutsyìp.” He croaks out, though he’s already flexing his hips to help you pull his tewng off.

“Been wanting this for ages, you have no idea—”

Tsu’tey swears his head is spinning at the sheer irony of that, because he could have been experiencing this for ages?

His cock is freed from his tewng, slapping against his stomach with an embarrassingly loud smack. When you see how big he is, your eyes widen, and Tsu’tey has a horrible moment of panic where he worries that you’re going to change your mind. He would only be able to accept that choice, but he already knows that it will leave him with the worst case of blue balls he’d ever experienced.

But you don’t let his no doubt intimidating size stop you from reaching out with your small hands to stroke him. A guttural growl is pulled from him, and he tilts his head back against your soft bedding and bites hard at his lip in an effort to control himself as you stroke at him.

“Oh, fuck yes.” You breathe, your expression nothing short of delighted as you stare down at him. He feels vulnerable under your gaze, naked in a way that has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve pulled his tewng off him.

He reaches out, tugs at your top. “I wish to see you, again.”

That makes you smile. The little fabric top you’re wearing is so thin that he can see the outline of your breasts and little nipples already, and as you lean forward to tug at his cock it gapes open at the chest to give him a tantalising glimpse of your bare flesh, but it’s not enough. He wants to see you bare and wanting beneath him. Or on top of him. He’s not fussy.

When you pull your flimsy little fabric covering off, Tsu’tey feels as though he goes momentarily light-headed as his blood rushes south. He’s seen you like this before, that day at the river, but this is different. This time, he’s allowed to touch.

You’re as soft as he’d imagined – softer, even. Tsu’tey’s hands are eager, reaching up to grope and feel, and you tilt your head back and moan softly as he kneads at your delightfully squishy breasts. He just can’t get over how perfect and pliable you are, your supple skin moulding and giving around his hands. He’s never experienced anyone as soft as you; the Na’vi are bigger than the Sky People, and stronger too. His people do not have the same shape, are not soft in the same places as humans. And he’s never thought too much about it, but now he feels like he’s losing himself in your supple flesh.

And then there’s the delicate little barbells in your nipples. Tsu’tey stares, wanting so badly to touch but nervous about going too hard or fast and accidentally hurting you.

“Remember I said they were just to look good?” You breathe, pressing forward a little to encourage his hands to roam over your tits.

“Mm.” Tsu’tey grunts mindlessly. He does recall something of the sort, but he doesn’t think it is fair that you expect him to think when he has your tits in his hands like this, one hand almost spanning your entire chest.

“I lied,” You whisper, your lips curving up in a smile so cheeky that it makes Tsu’tey’s toes curl. “They feel good, too.”

Tsu’tey groans, running his fingers slowly across your skin before finally touching the piercings, his touch smooth and warm.

A low moan of contentment escapes him. "Soft skin. Pretty piercings."

His hands cup your breasts as his thumbs brush over your nipples. You were telling the truth about them; the piercings make you sensitive, and when you shiver under his hands, his gaze darkens.

"I want them in my mouth." He says suddenly, his voice rough and gravelly. His thumbs swipe over them yet again, and he looks up eagerly to you to wait for your permission as you sigh.

You laugh, though it's a breathless and weak sort of a thing. You’re trying to play it cool and casual, but Tsu’tey is holding your soft little breasts in his hands – he can feel your rapid heartbeat against his palm. "Go on, then."

He doesn't waste any time before he's bending his head and pressing harsh, biting kisses all along your chest. Then, getting sick of bending his neck down, he grabs at the flesh of your ass and hauls you up into his arms so that he can mouth at your nipples in earnest.

He licks over your left breast, feeling the little metal barbell against his tongue. It must feel good because you whine, arching your back and pushing your tits into his face even more. Your skin is so soft and sensitive, and it makes his rough tongue and big hands feel clumsy and coarse.

He wraps his lips around your nipple and suckles at it, his tongue playing with the strange little balls at the end of the bars. The metal is cool against his tongue, offering a pleasant contrast to your heated flesh.

“Ungh, shit,” You gasp, your little hands winding into his braids and gripping him there. “Tsu’tey… I wanna suck your cock.”

Tsu’tey freezes, his eyes going wide. Those words rock through him like a physical punch, and he groans as his cock visibly twitches against his stomach. He knows you can feel it, considering you’re still straddling him, and you begin to wiggle your way back as you try to get your face down to his crotch.

But as soon as you get your little hand on his cock, panic shoots through him. It feels good, so good, but he’s sure if you actually put it in your mouth he’ll die. He already knows that if you get your mouth on him everything will be over far too quickly, and he’s not ready to tap out just yet.

He grabs you and rolls, until you’re on your back staring up at him with a surprised little pout.

“I want that, tawtute,” He admits, his voice coming out in a gravelly rumble as he presses a careful kiss to your pouting lips. “But later.”

“But—”

He doesn’t let you finish. He’s too busy kissing your strange, alien little face, then down over your throat. You’re so addictive already. He wants to fuck you and have the whole clan listen, he wants to suck on your tits and have you crying, he wants to play with your clit until it’s puffy and swollen, he wants to play with your cute little hole, he wants to see you bouncing on his cock, on your hands and knees… He feels like he’s been set alight with desire, like the blood in his veins has turned molten.

His fingers hook into your little shorts and pull at them, and you lift your hips to help him tug them off. To his delight, you’re not wearing your tiny little fabric covering under them, and his tail whips in excitement at the sight of you bare beneath him.

“Oh,” He breathes, shuffling himself down your bed. It’s a narrow fit, and cramped, but Tsu’tey doesn’t care; his attention is fixed on you and the way your legs are spreading to accommodate the bulk of his body.

He takes in the sight of you eagerly, bare and glistening wet, and grinding against nothing, and he realises in that moment that his imagination could never have lived up to reality.

“I’m going to take care of you,” He mumbles mindlessly, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your lovely plush inner thigh. “Going to make you feel so good, syulang.”

“Okay.” You sigh, the word coming out a little wobbly.

Tsu’tey’s tail whips from side-to-side as he gazes at your bare cunt, still hardly able to believe that you’re giving him access to you like this, that you like him too. It feels too good to be true, but Tsu’tey is not about to let this opportunity to pass him by.

“So pretty, yawntutsyìp.” He kisses his words flatly against your puffy lips before coaxing them open with his flat nose. His face is covered in you already, glistening across his lips and chin. But it’s not enough, it won’t be enough until he’s drowning in you.

You taste tangy and sweet, a heady mix of sweat and pheromones that pulls him in ever closer, desperate to drink his fill of you.

But even better than how you taste, is how you react.

You’re up on him so fast he barely has time to blink – no sooner has he laid his lips on your pussy, his mouth so big that it almost swallows you whole, than your hips are bucking up into his face. All he can smell and taste is you, and you’re so fucking wet and suddenly you’re rutting up against his face, not even caring if Tsu’tey’s mouth is open or not, as though you’re so desperate for him that all you can do is use him.

It’s the best day of Tsu’tey’s life. He’s going to mark this day and religiously celebrate it every year.

“Tsu’tey –!” You gasp, rutting your hips into his face. A wild, somewhat unhinged part of him hopes you break his nose. He uses his tongue against your clit and lets you rub yourself all over him, making his brain feel so blissfully empty.

He just moans into you, his hands wrapping around your plush hips and gripping at your squishy little bottom for leverage as he pulls you back against his face. He suckles at you so eagerly, tongue laving over your hole, over and over and over, delighting in the way you gasp and moan and grind into his mouth.

His tail coils as his arousal pulses, forgetting himself as his fingers clench into your soft skin. You sigh, and drop your head back against the pillows as you move your hips to push your pussy back against his tongue. When he spears his tongue into you, you whine, but the sound is muffled somehow—

You’ve bitten your pillow, Tsu’tey realises, and groans. He wants so badly to get his hands on himself, to stroke and tug at his cock as he devours you, but he can’t bring himself to let go of you. He feels as though he’ll die if he lets go of your squishy ass, and his fingers knead insistently at it as he dines on your cunt.

He fucks his tongue into you harder, mouth open and jaw aching in the most satisfying way. It’s all worth it when Tsu’tey realises that you’re crying, just softly, your moans and whines wet, your breaths choked.

Tsu’tey’s fingers find their way to rest against your pussy, pushing in gently when he’s satisfied with how well his tongue worked you open. Once the digits are wet, he pushes two in to the first knuckle. He groans at the feeling of how welcoming your pussy is, how responsive you are to his touch. You cry out, your thighs twitching as he stretches you out.

Your whimpering makes him feel bold, his cock weeping against his thigh. He’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, the frustrating ache in his balls is poured right into the quickening pace of his fingers. He wants you to break— to crumble into pieces just so he can put you back together.

“Tsu’tey,” You slur out, your fingers gripping at his braids as you writhe under his attention. “Need to slow down, or I’m gonna—I’m gonna come—”

Your words fall on deaf ears; Tsu’tey is practically hypnotised by your little whimpers and cries as he sucks and licks eagerly at your squishy wet pussy, his fingers twisting and rubbing all along your hot, clutching insides. He feels desperate to experience you come against his tongue, and his movements take on an edge of fervor as he opens his mouth wide to suck your whole cunt into his mouth.

You squeal, hips bucking, and your feet kick out until they’ve landed on his shoulders. Tsu’tey moans, pleased by your reaction, and his mouth seals firmly around you as his tongue laps at your clit.

Your thighs suddenly clench around his head, keeping it in place, and he increases his pace, keeping it rhythmic for you. He buries his nose into your little swollen clit, letting out a hungry little noise as he sucks at you.

And then you’re gasping, the line of your body going taut and stiff as your orgasm rolls through you. Tsu’tey doesn’t relent, sucking and licking at you as you tremble and shake apart. Your release tastes so sweet, like hot syrup on his tongue, and he can’t get enough of you. Your thighs grip his head so hard that the muscles tremble, and he relishes the pressure of your legs squeezing around his skull.

It doesn’t take long before your legs are kicking again, wheezing as you grow oversensitive and push at his head. With great reluctance, Tsu’tey pulls his mouth away with a wet ‘pop’, licking his lips before leaning in to suckle a series of biting kisses around your inner thighs.

He feels a little light-headed, still so hungry. He knows his eyes are heavy-lidded with his own arousal, his whole body throbbing with the need to take you, but he’s trying so damn hard to control himself.

“Oh god… fuck.” You breathe, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.

That certainly strokes Tsu’tey’s male pride, and he looks up at you with a pleased, if slightly dazed, smile. He’s breathing heavily still from having devoted his entire attention to pleasing you and forgetting to breathe, and it takes a moment for him to realise he needs to sip from the stupid mask. He fumbles for a moment, grabbing at it and taking several deep breaths before dropping it again and leaning up to kiss at your cute little lower belly.

“It was good?” He asks. Judging by the look on your face he knows the answer, but he can’t help but want to hear it straight from your mouth.

You laugh, a little disbelievingly, then place a hand onto his chest and push lightly at him until he’s rolling over onto his back. You follow, swinging your leg over his hips and settling down so that your spit-slick pussy is nestled right up against his hard cock.

“So good,” You whisper, and it practically comes out like a purr. “So fucking good.”

Tsu’tey’s tail curls and his ears fold back, his stomach swooping in anticipation at the coy tone of your voice. His cock twitches too, very interested in the way you’re sitting on it. When you rock your hips lightly, allowing your slick pussy to glide along his length, he groans breathily before reaching to grab at your waist, trying to hold you still.

“Wait, syulang.” He says, his voice coming out embarrassingly hoarse. “You are so small, I don’t want to hurt you.”

He’s not expecting you to laugh at that, as though he’s said something that you find adorable. You lean in and kiss him, your lips soft against his hot, swollen ones.

“You’re not the first Na’vi I’ve had,” You whisper against his mouth, giving him yet another sweet kiss. “I know what I’m doing.”

He bristles at the thought of another Na’vi hunching over your little body, rutting into your hot wet softness. His hands tighten around your waist as a bolt of possessive jealousy flashes through him.

“Who?” He demands, his face scrunching up in a scowl.

You just giggle, leaning down to kiss the wide bridge of his nose. Tsu’tey’s ears fold down, a little mollified by how cute you are, though his scowl doesn’t lessen much. Your hand runs over his chest, your fingers stroking over his heated skin.

“Oh, shush.” You say with a fond smile, as though you think he’s joking. “What, did you expect me live like a nun while you were ignoring me all that time? I didn’t even think you liked me.”

Tsu’tey doesn’t know what a nun is, but he’s distracted before he can ask. You lean down slowly, running the tip of your tongue along his throat. You pause to bite him gently right where his vein pulses, and the rush of sensations from your touch nearly sends him spiraling.

“Besides,” You whisper, “I feel like you just sucked my soul out through my pussy, so I really don’t think anyone else is ever going to compare.”

The purr that your words pull out of him at that is embarrassing, but his body reacts before his brain does. Yes, he thinks smugly, I am better. It feels incredibly important to him that you know he is the best option, the man that can please you best.

Tsu’tey feels like he’s melting under you. The heat of your bare slick cunt against the length of his cock is fanning a fire in his blood. He bites at his lip as he feels your lips on his pulse, harder now, kissing softly, tongue flicking against the skin.

Your hand slides lower, and then finally your hand wraps around the base of his cock. He groans, bucks up, but didn’t mean to. Thankfully you just laugh, obviously amused as you’re lifted up by the momentum of his hips.

“Tsu’tey, baby,” You whisper, and oh, your voice is going to drive him insane. “Does it hurt, being this hard?”

Tsu’tey openly chokes, and you give him one slow stroke. The feeling of your small soft hand against him has his mind blanking entirely for a second. You pause to rub your thumb under his cockhead, against the bundle of nerves there, and Tsu’tey moans as his eyes flutter shut.

“Pretty boy,” You whisper, and Tsu’tey gasps, feeling his lip quiver. He cracks his eyes open, just to see you smiling down at him. “Do you like when I call you pretty?”

Tsu’tey looks away and says nothing – but you just giggle.

“You’re pouting, Tsu’tey.”

“I am not.” He grumbles, though his cheeks are uncomfortably warm.

Your hands move, one stroking around his cock, the other cradling his balls. Tsu’tey arches, pushes into your hand as you twist your fist around his glans. His mouth falls open, a breathy moan escaping, and you visibly shiver. He tries to push himself up on his elbows so that he can watch as you shift atop him, hips rocking forward gently as you stroke at him.

“Syulang,” He manages, licking at his lips as his voice comes out all breathy and desperate. “Please.”

You grin at him, your eyes soft and affectionate as you watch him disintegrate beneath your touch. Then you’re lifting up onto your knees, using his chest as leverage, and Tsu’tey holds his breath as you position yourself over his cock.

“Breathe, baby.” You laugh, taking his mask and holding it up to his face.

He takes several deep breaths, feels the blurred edges of his mind sharpen, and reaches down to grab his cock. He helps you to position it, his cockhead gliding along your slick folds.

He has to pause for a moment, closing his eyes as his ears flatten back against his head. You’re so damn soft, your cunt is so hot and sticky wet, and he already knows that the moment his cock pushes inside of you he’ll be fighting for his life not to come instantly. He just wants to last long enough to please you, to make you feel good.

You let out a soft noise, your hips twitching as you try to hump your pussy back onto his cock. He has to grab your hips to keep you still, grunting.

“You’re teasing.” You whine, clutching at his arms as you try to wiggle your way back onto him.

“Mph.” Tsu’tey grunts, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to contain himself. “Mawey, syulang. Patience.”

But patience doesn’t seem to be your strong suit. Your bright eyes have gone dark, pupils blown, forehead glimmering with sweat – you look beautiful, and Tsu’tey feels like he’s dying.

You lean forward and crash your mouth into his, kissing him hard and messy as you wriggle in his lap, trying to coax his cock inside you. Tsu’tey moans into your mouth, but then you’re pulling back, and your lips press against his nose, his cheeks, his forehead.

Still breathing deeply, Tsu’tey aligns his cock against your pussy, and at the same time as his sweet girl peppers his face with kisses, he begins to push inside. You whine at the pressure of the stretch, your forehead pressed against his as he presses his cock into you slowly, as slowly as he can manage.

“Come on,” You groan, leaning forward and letting your blunt little teeth scrape over the sensitive tip of his ear. “Put it in, put it in, put it in—”

“Calm,” Tsu’tey gasps, clutching at your plush little hips in an effort to keep you from slamming yourself down on him all at once. “Calm, yawntutsyìp, I do not wish to hurt you—”

But his words are lost when you shift over him right as he begins to press into you again, and from one second to the next he slides half-way inside, past the small ring of resistance and into the velvety hot inside of your cunt.

It’s like a gut punch.

He moans like a dying man and holds you as tight as he can in an attempt to ground himself enough not to start thrusting. You gasp, your features scrunching into a pained wince as you’re split wide around the thickness of his cock. He doesn’t need you to vocalise your discomfort, so he rubs your puffy clit to try and make it better for you. His calloused thumb rubs slow circles on it at the same time as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, panting and whimpering.

Fuck, he needs to move.

Just a bit –

Just to take the edge off –

His hips pull back and then quickly snap forward again. “Fuck.”

It’s so easy it’s sinful. He pushes through the tightest cunt he has ever been in and it feels like home. He groans roughly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tries to catch his breath. He can’t help but look down, and he almost whimpers at the sight of your cunt stretched wide around his thick length, at the aborted little twitching of your hips as you try admirably hard to take him in deeper. You’re so much tighter than he expected, and it takes everything in him to pull back again.

When he withdraws, your pussy grips him all the way to the tip, making him feel so insane he had to immediately dive back in, gasping. He’s too big to fit inside of you completely, but that’s okay; your tiny pussy grips hard enough at the length that you can take that Tsu’tey feels like he’s about to black out.

“Yes!” You cry out, arching your chest against his so that he can feel the cool sensation of your piercings against his skin, your fingers knotting into his braids as you lift yourself up then down on his cock, meeting his sloppy thrusts.

Tsu’tey feels as though the world is fracturing around him as he pushes himself into your tiny little cunt, feeling your pussy clench around his cock like a fist. It's so tight and sweet, his dick feels as though it's being pulled into paradise.

Being inside you is heavenly; it’s like your sweet little pussy is made for him, molding to him and stretching where it needs to, squeezing him tight to the point of pain. He pistons in and out of you from below, finding his own pace as the bed shakes from the force of his thrusts. You make soft, wet little sounds, a wanton creature in response in response as you undulate atop of him.

Your tits bounce every time he thrusts up into you, and he finds his eyes glued to sight before his self-control cracks and he’s leaning forward to take one of your breasts into his mouth. It takes a bit of contortion, his spine curving as his mouth locks around your tit, his tongue rolling against your little pierced nipple, his ears wiggling eagerly as they pick up your little mewls.

Oh, he’s not going to last long; he already feels like he’s losing his mind.

Soft, desperate little noises are babbling out of your mouth as you fuck yourself down on his cock, clutching at his shoulders for balance. Your jaw is slack and your mouth is open, and Tsu’tey can see flashes of your little pink tongue as you gasp and whimper everytime he rolls his hips up into you. Your movements have taken on an edge of desperation as you ride him, your pussy squeezing him so tight his vision is going blurry.

Then your little body is seizing, weak gasping moans spilling from your lips as your spine goes stiff. Your cunt clenches in sporadic little pulses, and Tsu’tey nearly roars at the intensity of it – your pussy sucks so tight that it almost hurts. It’s a weaker orgasm than your first one, but you still sob your way through it as you clutch at him.

“Oh, syulang, fuck.” Tsu’tey grits out, the human curse word sounding coarse and foreign on his tongue.

He wants to do this forever, to stay buried in you all night, but you’re sucking him in and clinging to him in a vice grip as you push back against him, and he’s about to explode. He’s overwrought, grunting against your sweat-damp skin as he clutches your soft little body close to him, the motion of his hips turning jerky and sloppy as he feels that tingly pressure grow in his stomach.

He lifts you off his cock with a cut-off snarl, grabbing at his cock with a clumsy hand as that pressure bubbles over. He comes with more force than he had been expecting, his come spurting out onto your belly and over your tits, dripping steadily over your smooth skin.

Part of him is a little embarrassed about how quickly he had come, but the larger part of him feels it was impressive that he didn’t spill the instant he got his cock inside of you. But you’re pouting up at him, clutching at his chest as you push back against him.

“No,” You whine, your voice quiet and tired as you try to grind your messy pussy back onto him. “Wanted you to come inside.”

Tsu’tey is already breathless, but the sweet little whimper in your voice nearly knocks him flat yet again. His cock is still throbbing, the last few drops of his release spurting out and glowing lightly against your skin. He takes in the sight of his seed spattered across your pretty little body greedily, committing it to memory. Nothing in his raunchiest wet dreams could have compared to the reality of this moment.

“We will have time for that, yawntutsyìp,” He whispers, his stomach clenching in excitement at the thought. “You will not need another man again.”

You grumble lightly, but he can see the satisfied little smile on your face as you go limp in his arms, burrowing closer to his chest as you collapse down next to him. Having you in his arms feels perfect; his tail curls in satisfaction when he realises how perfectly you fit against his chest, and he purrs smugly as he nudges his nose against your temple.

He rolls, scooping you up and arranging you so that you’re laying sprawled at his side, before curving his body around yours and wrapping an arm around your little body. Your body is still glistening with sweat and the dimly bioluminescent streaks of come that Tsu’tey has left on you – he’s torn between the urge to care for you, to clean you up and make sure that you’re sated and pleased, and to leave you marked and carrying his scent.

He’ll clean you up in a few minutes, he decides, allowing himself to enjoy the sight of you after being thoroughly claimed for a little while longer.

“If you ever say we’re just friends again I’ll kick your ass.” You mumble, pressing your face into his pectoral muscles.

You’re acting as though your bones have been dissolved into jelly, laying all limp and pliable against him even as you squirm closer. Tsu’tey allows himself to just stare at you, admiring all the subtle little bite-marks and bruising that he can’t remember leaving behind, admiring your puffy nipples and your still gooey cunt.

“Mm.” Tsu’tey hums, dipping his head down and laying it carefully on your chest. He’s a little nervous that he’ll be too heavy, but your small hands come up to tangle in his braids and scratch soothingly at his scalp. He allows his eyes to flutter shut, enjoying the plush softness of your breasts under his face.

“I like you very much, syulang.” He says, enjoying the pulse of your heartbeat beneath his head. “I am sorry that I have been slow to understand your interest.”

You laugh a little sleepily, craning your neck so that you can kiss his forehead before laying back again. “You certainly did a good job showing me your interest just now.”

“I will do more,” Tsu’tey promises, hardly even aware of what he’s saying. “I will collect kllpxiwll berries for you everyday, and go swimming as often as you like, and make you pretty jewelry, and keep you satisfied—”

You start to laugh before he even finishes.

“Who would’ve known a big grumpy asshole like you is capable of being so romantic.” You snicker as he nuzzles into your tits.

Your lack of a tail and blunt ears make it hard for him to read you, but he can tell by your tone of voice that you’re teasing him. He just curls around you, not minding at all. He enjoys the thought of proving to you exactly how romantic he can be – he has much to prove, and much to make up for.

“I am not grumpy now.” He mutters, turning his face so that it’s buried neatly in between your tits. He licks lazily over your left breast, savouring the feeling of the little silver barbell nestled in your nipple against his tongue.

You shiver, a soft little overwhelmed gasp escaping your lips as he kisses leisurely at your puffy and oversensitive nipples.

“No,” You murmur, and he can hear the fondness in your voice. “You’re not.”

Tsu’tey purrs, his whole body curving around you as he kisses absent-mindedly at your tits, his thoughts pleasantly hazy and somewhat nebulous.

“Breathe.” You remind him tiredly, your voice a little slurred around the edges with sleep.

Upon your urging, he lifts the stupid mask back up to his face and fits it clumsily over his mouth and nose. He wraps his arm around your waist, holds you tight, and just breathes as the two of you lay together, sated and satisfied.

#tsu'tey #tsu'tey x human reader #tsu'tey x reader #avatar wotw #avatar x reader #avatar 2009 #na'vi x reader #na'vi x human reader #terato #alien x reader #fics

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alvojake · 7 months ago

Text

The Murder House | Masterlist & Intro ⏃

↳ this is inspired by an ask from the lovely @addictedtohobi

「parings」 : enha x fem!reader

「synopsis」 : it was halloween season once again, and your brother begged you and your friends to go to this new hit escape room that just came into town; the only problem? you hated going to them almost as much as you hated waking up early in the morning. however, being the good friend and sister you were you went with them. you expected cheesy props, dumb riddles and questions, and a rigged room, so you couldn't get out even if you got the right answers. what you weren't expecting was being drugged and waking up in a room with a dead body and separated from all of your friends.

「genre」 : horror/thriller, gore, angst, psychological thriller, mystery

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, heavy gore, blood, murder, mentions of suicide, cussing, death, manipulation, mentions of being drugged, toxic behavior, reader is speculated to be an 03' liner, trauma bonding, other specific warnings on individual parts.

𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆

「taglist」 : CLOSED

↳ a/n: I have decided to make this into a short series because I just know trying to write one long fic won't suffice, so I am making it into separate parts! I am super excited to see what you guys think so far and to hear all of your theories. don't forget to read the intro at the bottom!! I will be figuring out release dates for all of the parts at a later time, but they will all be subject to change depending on multiple factors! also, if you were on the taglist located on the wip post, then you are still on there, so don't worry! with that being said you will only be added to the taglist if you are 18+ and your age is visible on your page. if you don't meet either of those criteria, you will be ignored.

「start」 : May 8th, 2024 「end」 : June 20th, 2024

「synopsis」 : after waking up trapped in a room with a dead body, you are saved by none other than heeseung, but you're still left with questions. why were you and your friends trapped there, and who is behind it all? though it would seem that you won't be getting your answers very easily and definitely not without a few losses. 「word count」 : 10.2k 「warnings」 : blood, dead body, cussing, mentions of murder, mind games, drugging, mentions of mental health disorders (anxiety, panic attacks, etc...), jungwon is kinda reckless, lmk if I missed anything! 「release date」 : read here

「synopsis」 : with everyone's lives on the line will luck be on your side? except it seems like whoever trapped you here doesn't plan on letting any of you leave that easy... suspicion is rising and trust is starting to falter, but can you save everyone and bust whoever put you and your friends through this hell? or will you have to watch all of your friends die? 「word count」 : 11.3k 「warnings」 : cussing, spiders/bugs, water, blood, mentions of betrayal, arguments, mentions of claustrophobia & arachnophobia/entomophobia, mentions of spider venom, life or death situations, more mind games, mental health disorders (anxiety, panic attacks, breakdowns, etc...), (some tags will be hidden as to not spoil the story!) 「release date」 : read here

「synopsis」 : everything seems to be going downhill at a rapid pace and nothing is going right and you've already suffered the loss of two friends, but the mastermind behind this doesn't seem to be satisfied just yet. another test is thrown your way but things are starting to become more clear and you're realizing that the culprit has been with you the whole time... but will you be able to stop him and escape this hell house with your lives intact? 「word count」 : 10.5k 「warnings」 : cussing, even more 'games', blood, violence, gore, gun goes pew pew, poisoning, betrayal, gaslighting, familial issues, mentions of abuse (mental & physical), knife goes stabby, threats, death, obsessive/stalker-ish behavior, mental health disorders, even more betrayal, traumatic events, police, pls lmk if I missed anything! 「release date」 : read here

「synopsis」 : it's been a few weeks since you managed to escape from the murder house, but it's not quite over yet. your brother's trial was right around the corner and everything is brought back to the table. after he's found guilty and sent to prison you are determined to find out some answers, though you aren't sure if you'll like what he has to say.... 「word count」 : 6.2k 「warnings」 : cussing, petnames (my love, love...), kissing, court trial, sister complex, familial issues, mentions of abuse (mental & physical), obsessive behavior, threats, mentions of death, gaslighting, lmk if I missed anything! 「release date」 : read here

“Come on, y/n. We never get the chance to do this!” Riki whined as he draped his taller frame over your back, causing you to slouch forward. You let out an annoyed huff, letting your hands fall to your lap. Your phone slid from your fingers as you tilted your head to look back at your brother.

“Riki, how many times have I told you that I hate going to things like that?” You pushed back against him, causing the boy to fall dramatically back on the couch. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your discarded phone off the ground, Riki watching you with a pout.

“You watch too many horror movies,” he grumbled, remembering all the nights you would watch horror movies only to have some new-found fear afterward, even if it was something completely unnecessary.

You dropped your phone once more before glaring up at your brother, “ya know, there is always some truth to them.”

“y/n, please. They are just movies. Complete fiction. Ghosts aren’t real.” Riki rolled his eyes, picking at the loose strings of the couch cushion.

“Even rumors stem from some kind of truth, Riki.” You huffed out, but it didn’t seem like your brother would stop pestering you until you finally gave in. So after hours of continuously asking and begging, you finally gave in to him, telling him that you would ask your friends only if he brought his own.

And he agreed.

When that dreadful night finally came, you were stuck in a car with all of your friends. The crisp October air was cold on your skin, but the heating in the vehicle that Jay had turned on was enough to leave you comfortable. Jake had some random playlist filling the speakers jamming out in the passenger seat while Jungwon, Sunghoon, and Heeseung were crammed into the far back of the SUV, all three on the brink of passing out from how long the drive was.

“I thought you said this place was in town, Riki.” You grumbled, flexing your jaw, trying to ease the discomfort from having it placed on your hand as you stared mindlessly out the car window. However, now that it was fully dark outside, there wasn’t much to look at, seeing that there were no streetlights.

“I mean, the address said it was in town; how was I supposed to know it was in the ass crack of it?” Riki sassed as he scrolled through his phone, looking at whatever was posted on social media.

“Language, dude.” Jay scolded the boy, his eyes staring at him through the rearview mirror.

“Korean, what else?”

Pursing your lips, you reached over and landed a smack on the back of his head, resulting in him letting out a groan as his head fell forward.

“What was that for?!” Riki exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head as he looked over at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t be such a smart ass.” You scolded him, and Riki grumbled before showing Sunoo something on his phone.

Shaking your head, you lean forward, resting your arms on the back of Jay’s seat, “How much longer do we have to go?”

Jay quickly glanced at you from the rearview mirror, much like he did Riki, before glancing down at the GPS on his dash.

"It's saying we have about ten or so minutes left until we get there." He told you before putting his eyes back on the road.

It was then that you started to notice just how desolate the surrounding area was. If this was such a hit attraction, why weren't any other cars around? Or any kind of sign of life. It was starting to give you the creeps. However, you just reminded yourself that you were doing this for your brother and that it was probably just your imagination playing tricks on you. So you just tried to relax, sitting back in your seat once more, eyes staring out at the blackness of the trees.

That feeling of unease only grew more once Jay pulled into the driveway, and you noticed that there wasn’t a single car in sight. You pulled your seatbelt off slowly, eyes searching everywhere, trying to find anything to settle this unnerving feeling that was twisting in your gut. As you opened the door, welcoming the chilling air outside, goosebumps littered your skin.

“Come on, y/n, get out. My legs are cramping!” Riki complained, pushing on your shoulder and urging you to leave the vehicle.

With a shaky sigh, you slowly let your foot fall to the ground, your knees feeling like jelly. Jay stepped out of the car, pocketing the keys before looking over at you. His eyebrows scrunched together, taking in the uneasy expression on your face.

“Hey, y/n, are you okay?” he asked, softly taking your arm and pulling you away from the open door so everyone else could pile out.

“Yeah, it’s just…” You trailed on as your eyes caught sight of the small sign that was hammered into the ground.

The Murder House

You could have sworn that you felt your heart stop. What kind of douchebag names their escape room that? As if the air around you wasn’t suffocating enough, seeing that only made it feel like you were fighting for your breath.

“Sunoo, you’re in the back on the way home.” Heeseung groans as he stretches out, his joints groaning in protest. Sunoo just gave the older male the side eye before moving to stand on the other side of Jake, who had just gotten out of the car.

“Riki, I thought you said this was a hit attraction.” You looked over at your brother, who was inspecting the area much like you were until his eyes landed on you. “Why is there no one here?”

“Calm your tits, sis. I’m sure we just came on a night that no one else wanted to?” He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, that just means we won’t get stuck with some randos.” Heeseung shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"Come on, y'know, we didn't come all this way just to chicken out," Jungwon grumbled, tossing his hair with his fingers.

You curled your lips inward, knowing that they were right and that you were just thinking too much about the situation. Crossing your arms over your chest, you nodded your head in silent agreement. Jay wrapped his arm around your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze, ignoring the prying eyes that were on the two of you.

“Don’t let it get to you too much, okay? We’ll just get it over with, and if anything, we just let the timer go out.” He whispered softly in your ear, and the warmth of his breath eased your mind slightly.

“You’re right, I’m just overthinking.” You gave him a small smile before following after him and the others.

“God damn, Riki, why did we have to walk all the way up here?” Sunghoon huffed as all of you reached the steps of the porch.

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing he was right because that was a pretty lengthy walk uphill. All of the guys nodded in agreement before Jake walked further up the step, trying to see if you were able to get in. He then noticed a welcome sign hanging from the door, with a small basket underneath holding a piece of paper.

“It looks like we got some instructions, boys and girls,” Jake exclaimed with a broad smile, turning with the paper held high.

You looked at him uneasily as he unfolded it with a flourish and started reading it out loud so everyone could hear.

‘You will have two hours to uncover the grand mystery and escape the murder house. You will find clues and puzzles, but be careful, for everything isn’t as it seems… Good luck!’

A shiver ran down your spine as he finished reading. You weren't sure whether it was the chilling breeze that swept through or the cryptic words of the note. However, you did know that it wasn't just your mind messing with you; there was something deeply wrong with this place.

“Hey guys, this seems really weird. Maybe we should just go.” You voiced your concern, earning yourself a collection of groans from the guys.

“Oh, come on, y/n. Stop being such a negative Nancy and have some fun for once in your life.” Jake rolled his eyes, his hands falling to his side.

Your jaw clenched shut, and a glare adorned your features before you leaned forward, snatching the paper out of his hands.

“You’re such an asshole, Jake.” The words tumbled out quietly as you reread the same message that Jake had just read aloud, trying to see if there was anything else that he had missed.

“Yeah, yeah.” The brunette rolled his eyes before going on to complain about how thirsty he was and how he was sure that they would have drinks for sale or something inside. Then, without another word, he opened the door despite the multiple protests from you and a few others.

“Jake, you can’t just walk in like you own the place!” You exclaim, hands slapping against your thighs as he disappears around the corner.

Letting out a huff, you step past the threshold, trying to shake off the eerie feeling that started to settle into your bones before going in the direction you saw Jake go, everyone trailing after you.

You walked into the foyer with a groan as you saw the older male chugging down a water bottle, some of it trickling down his chin before catching on his shirt. Your eyes then trail over to a tray that sat in the center of the table, six other bottles neatly placed inside.

“Jake, you can’t just take shit that’s not yours!” You scolded him, which only caused him to stop drinking, a gasp leaving his lips as he pulled the bottle away.

Riki then walked past you, looking down at the table and seeing some kind of note. Taking it, he held it up so everyone could see.

Free refreshments!

“The host probably just sat them out for people to take.” Riki shrugged, setting the paper back down on the table before grabbing a bottle for himself.

Your stomach turned as you watched him unscrew the cap, “we can’t just trust drinks that are given to us by some random strangers.”

Heeseung then moves past you, his arm brushing yours, before grabbing one of the bottles. He inspected it for a few seconds before meeting your gaze.

"It's still sealed; there's no way someone tampered with it," he explained before twisting the cap open and swallowing a few drinks.

“Weren’t you the one complaining about being thirsty in the car?” Riki raised an eyebrow at you, and you just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but-” “But what, just drink the water, it’s not like you’re gonna die.” Riki quipped, causing your jaw to tighten. You knew he was right; you had been complaining about not bringing an extra drink for the road, but you weren’t quite sure if you were thirsty enough to drink some random water given out by a stranger. However, the dry feeling in your throat was telling you otherwise, so with some hesitation, you took the bottle Jay was handing you before twisting the cap off and bringing it to your lips; the liquid instantly quenched your dying thirst.

After everyone got a much-needed drink, they all needed you all gathered around the coffee table. You, Heeseung, and Jay were on the long couch while Sunoo, Niki, and Jake cramped on the loveseat, leaving the armchair for Sunghoon, Jungwon perched on the armrest.

“So… when does this game start?” Sunoo asked, leaning forward so his arms rested on his knees. Looking around, you couldn’t help but notice that the room was neatly decorated and clean, yet there was no sign of anyone being there.

Heeseung then leaned forward to grab something sitting on the table, catching everyone’s attention. He flipped it around, trying to find any indication of what it was, but nothing was written on the outside, so he opened the flap and pulled out the papers inside.

“It’s more instructions,” he explains as he starts to read them aloud. It says that as soon as the… the… sorry, I just feel really lightheaded.” He mumbles, shaking his head while squeezing his eyes shut, trying to stabilize his vision.

"Hee man, are you good?" Jay asked, putting a hand on the older male's shoulder, and Heeseung just nodded.

“Yeah, I just…” Heeseung’s words slurred as he started to sway, his eyes drooping.

Panic started to set in your chest as you noticed that Heeseung looked like he was on the brink of passing out. Just then, Jungwon slumped to the side, falling right into Sunghoon’s lap, causing him to start calling out the boy’s name.

You quickly stood to your feet to check on him, but you fell back into your seat just as soon as you stood, your vision swimming. However, as you looked around, you noticed that all of the boys were either slumped over or on the brink of passing out.

Worry then etched itself into your bones when your hazy vision landed on your brother's motionless form. You opened your mouth to call out for him and tried to get your body to move, but it wouldn't respond, and no words left your lips. Then everything seemed to fade, and your body grew weaker and weaker until you fell to the side, your head resting against Jay's back before everything went black.

Your body shot up with a gasp, and your ears rang so loud you could have thought it was coming from some kind of speaker. However, as it started to die down to a dull shrill, you realized that it was just you.

Looking around, you felt a chill run down your spine. You couldn’t see a thing. The room was shrouded in darkness, with not a single light in sight. Panic then started to set in as the earlier events started to play in your head.

Where was your brother? Or your friends? What caused you all to black out?

So many questions started filling your brain, some overlapping others as you fumbled to get to your feet. You blinked multiple times, trying to fully stabilize your vision and to see in the darkness.

A scream escaped from your lips as you tripped over something, landing in some kind of liquid. Your heartbeat roared in your ears as you hurriedly tried to get to your feet, the ringing in your ears growing louder.

Scrambling to your feet, you reach out in front of you, trying to find the wall, and as soon as you do, you start searching for the light switch. With shaky hands, you felt around the wall until you felt the switch. Letting out a relieved sigh, you flipped it, allowing the room to flood with light.

You looked up with a smile before remembering that your hands were still covered in whatever you had fallen into. Your gaze then fell down to your hands, only for the smile to be wiped away and your eyes to go wide.

Blood. Your palms were covered in blood.

Your stomach turns the urge to throw up very strong; dread then fills your veins as you slowly turn around. A high-pitched scream leaves your lips as your eyes are set upon the body of a man, blood pooling all around him.

Fear clouded your brain as you quickly turned back around to open the door. Rushing over to the wooden door, you wrapped your hands around the knob, hoping that it would turn. But it didn’t.

The door was locked, and you were trapped.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

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loliwrites · 6 months ago

Text

I. Tenacity | Edelweiss

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni warnings/tags: jackson era!joel, sharpshooter!reader, age difference [joel is mid 50s, reader is early 30s], joel lives forever fight me, canon compliant violence, no infected here just terrible humans, mention of death, blood, and murder, mentions of hunger, diva cup appearance, talk of irregular menstrual cycles [trauma-induced menopause][epigenetics], DUBCON/NONCON [tagging ‘cause reader allows it but true enthusiastic consent is absent], brief SMUT, unprotected p in v sex, female reader, no physical description other than a height difference, slow burn-ish, protective!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 5.6k series masterlist a/n: my first go at writing something tlou-related. be gentle pls.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The steady rhythm. You could count the number of times your hip would be shoved into the wooden table with a high degree of certainty of when it would be over. Michael never lasted too long. Somewhere between thirty-four and thirty-seven thrusts. He was never particularly rough, and though he was never chasing to make you feel good, he was at least better than George and James – both of whom would probably be lining up after Michael was done. George seemed to last forever. Some old fart who’d gained his stamina before the world came to a screeching halt. He usually landed somewhere between sixty-two and sixty-six thrusts. The bruises he left behind always lasted the longest because of the sheer amount of times he slammed your body into whatever you were up against. A table, a railing, an old pool table with torn, dirty felt. And the worst of all was James. He may not last the longest, but he had the uncanny ability of making you feel like some depraved wild animal he was trying to break. He never took his time to make sure it wouldn’t be absolutely painful like Michael did. Nor did he have a pencil dick to make it somewhat manageable like George. He took it how he wanted it – fast, unceremonious, and always left you in a mess you’d have to clean up.

Part of you wondered if this was worth it. If the wolf was only as strong as the pack, then having a pack was supremely necessary. And though, these guys… and the group they led… weren’t the people you would’ve gone with by choice. A pack was a pack. Alone, you were an easy target for almost anything and anyone. Being together afforded you safety in numbers. Relative safety in numbers. Safe enough to have stayed alive with them for the past six years. Years that you likely wouldn’t have gotten if you’d fought them tooth and nail and went off on your own. Solitude could only get you so far. No matter how proficient you were with your rifle.

The one that lay in front of you on the table. Clean, well-oiled, with a scope affixed to the top. As Michael started to moan recklessly behind you, you thought about the meals you’d forfeited in trade for the supplies needed to keep the weapon in the best of shape. Times were tough – had been tough for a couple decades now – and a gun was a gun. It didn’t need to be clean, it just had to work. But this was no ordinary gun.

Michael came inside you with a strangled grunt and pulled out a second later. That was a relatively new twist in the routine. For years the men were careful to never finish inside you… or any of the other women in the group. Food and resources were scarce enough as it was, let alone adding little mouths to feed and take care of. But a few months back, you’d confided in some of the women that your period hadn’t been coming when you expected it to. And when time had passed and neither a baby nor your period came, you came to the conclusion you were suffering from the same fate as some of the other women. A hard life compounded. Trauma induced menopause. You weren’t sure which of the women had ratted you out. But soon enough the men had become aware of your new biological situation, and they stopped the frantic pulling out as they came. Perhaps that was for the best. Who’d want to bring a child into a world like this?

“Was that alright?” Michael asked, buckling his belt back up. His back was turned toward you as he reached for his own rifle, which he’d propped up against the wall.

You glanced over at him and pulled your pants back up your legs. Over the lofted railing, you could hear George and James mumbling to each other. “Fine,”

“Did you…?”

He finally met your eyes. Anxiety-ridden. None of the other men ever asked, but you didn’t have it in you to lie to him. At some point maybe it’d sink in that he should stop partaking in the act just to fit in with the boys. “No,”

His gaze averted to the floor sheepishly and he shouldered his rifle. “Guess we should get back downstairs,”

“I’ll be down in a couple minutes,”

Now you were the one to turn your back on him. Though you hoped he’d come to his senses and start to become a better man. You knew he wouldn’t. He was initiated into the system. The one George and James, and all the other men in the settlement formed. The one that meant they brought girls along on patrols so they could get their kicks and save face with the others that they were doing their due diligence in protecting the group. And you joining the group… well you turned out to be the little guardian angel for the women in the pack. Good with a gun, able to pick off infected and humans alike from a mile out. It only seemed natural that the men going out on patrols would take you with them. For that you inadvertently protected the other women from your fate.

Michael cleared his throat and started down the stairs from the loft. You bit the inside of your cheek to show yourself you could still feel something, and – BANG!

Your head flicked around toward the noise. What was left of Michael was splattered against the wall leading up the stairs. You grabbed your gun and held it poised. Looked over the lofted banister and down at the room below. George had backed up into the far corner; his arms raised in non-threatening compliance. Someone must’ve been pointing a weapon at him, but you couldn’t tell from the angle. And James, well… if it didn’t warm your heart a little bit to see him being restrained in a chokehold with a handgun to his temple. The man you could see, holding James, was tall, muscular… he had black, curly, jaw-length hair. A thick mustache. He was in all denim. And it was clean, which was the thing that caught you the most off-guard.

You lifted your gun, disregarding the scope, and looked down the barrel. James may’ve been part of your pack, but you’d thought about putting a bullet in him on a daily basis for the last eight years. And while these guys might kill you afterward, at least you’d have the brief satisfaction of knowing that you’d taken one terrible human off the face of the planet.

So there was no hesitancy when you squeezed the trigger. The round flew by the denim-clad man’s head and went straight into James’. He crumpled to the floor and the man who’d been holding him looked up in your direction, though you’d backed away enough to ensure you weren’t seen.

Your pulse was pounding in your ears. Despite two thirds of your life having been in a post-Cordyceps world, the sound and reverberation of your rifle going off right by your ear didn’t keep it from ringing. An almost concussion-like haziness emphasized by the adrenaline coursing in your veins. From down below, you could just barely hear George pleading for his life. Something about how he had a woman he loved and wanted to go home to. Strange considering he had his dick in you on most days out.

The ringing in your ears started to quiet, just in time for you to hear a footstep behind you. A heavy one. Definitely belonged to a man. But not in time for you to spin around with your rifle before finding the man already pointing his rifle at you.

“Drop it,” he commanded gruffly. A deep, gravelly voice. He was sure of himself. Confident. His tattered jacket bunched up around his shoulders. He wasn’t as clean-looking as his partner currently detaining George. Graying, brown hair, a prominent scar over his nose, a scruffiness… and yet, he still looked too put together to have been living off the land for any amount of time. You should know. God knows what you looked like had you ever taken any time in front of a mirror. If the dirtiness of your hands were any indication, you were a little worse for wear. “I said, drop it,”

Your eyes flicked back up to his face and you slowly bent over and placed your rifle on the floor. No sooner than you’d completed the action, he had another order for you. Kick it here and get on your knees. So you did. Nudged your most prized possession away with your foot when another BANG! rang through the old hunting lodge. Your eyes flinched shut; the nanosecond of thought that this was it. You’re dead. But then… you still felt alive. And you squinted your eyes open to evaluate. Yep, definitely still alive. No bleeding holes coming from your body, and the man still in front of you waiting for you to comply with his last order. Which you did… awkwardly. A grimace stretched over your face when you knelt down and felt your pants sticking to your thighs; Michael’s spend dripping out of you.

The muzzle of the man’s rifle never left you, “got anything else on you?”

“Knife in my front pocket,”

“Slide it over,”

You did. Quickly. Hoping that your quickness and willingness to obey him would mean he’d let you go with your tail tucked between your legs.

“You infected?”

You glared at him, “do I look infected?”

He cocked his gun and held it up in line with your head. You trained your eyes on his index finger around the trigger. Just one twitch. That’s all it’d take.

“Joel,” both you and the man… Joel… looked away from each other, and fixed your eyes on the stairs where the second one – the one you’d disregarded in order to kill James – entered the loft. “Look at her gun,” both men looked at your rifle. “I don’t think she misses very often. If she was gonna kill us, we’d already be dead.”

He went to approach you, and this time Joel spoke up. A cautious step forward, “Tommy.”

But this Tommy… he took another couple steps in your direction and handed off his rifle to Joel when he went to stand in front of you. You kept your eyes on his face, tilting your head back to keep him in your line of vision. Even if he tried something, you weren’t sure what you’d do to stop him, but at least you’d see it coming.

“I don’t think you missed me. I don’t even think you were aiming at me,”

“I wasn’t,”

A victorious smile spread across his face and he twisted around to look back at Joel, “see.” Tommy looked back down at you and set his hands on his hips. “What’s your name?”

You flicked your eyes at Joel quickly before returning them to Tommy to answer his question.

“You’re with the other settlement?”

“I wouldn’t call them a settlement,” your eyes flicked over to Joel when he clicked his tongue on his teeth and rolled his eyes. “Nomads, at best,”

“And at worst?” Joel barked.

Your eyebrows lifted quickly in contemplation before… “a bunch’a assholes,”

Another wide grin broke out over Tommy’s face. “You got a family or a partner in that bunch of assholes?” He waited for a verbal response but you only shook your head. “We’ll take her back with us. She might be able to give us some answers about our friends we’ve been seeing on patrol.”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

They made you walk while they sat easily atop their horses. Some kind of cruel twist of fate that your own gun was turned on you the whole time. Joel made sure of that. Based on the way the sun fell toward the horizon, you figured you’d all been an hour and a half walk south of their settlement. Which as you neared the large wooden gates, seemed to be more like a QZ than some random encampment. And judging by the way the two men bickered, you assumed they were brothers. Only siblings could piss each other off like that and not take it personally. How lucky, you thought, that after all this time, they still had each other.

When you did near the enormous gates, Tommy left you behind with Joel. A precarious position. His face remained stoic the entire time, muzzle of the gun pointed at you… didn’t even answer when you asked if his horse had a name. You thought about goading him into an argument for the fun of it. Maybe he named his horse Princess. Or Spike. But Tommy interrupted again, riding up with a handful of others and even a dog. It growled and snarled in your direction, and you weren’t sure why, but you glanced back up at Joel to see if his expression had changed. Maybe you wouldn’t be so scared if he didn’t look like there was something you should be nervous about.

To your surprise, he was already staring at you. Upon meeting your gaze, he nodded once and jut his chin in the direction of the dog. “S’gonna sniff you. See if you’re infected. If not, like you say, nothin’ll happen.”

“If I am?” You cocked your head back toward the snarling animal.

“It’ll probably just take your leg off or somethin’,”

“Any chance this dog fucks up?”

“Probably not,”

And it didn’t. Thankfully. Hopefully this meant they’d trust explicitly that you indeed weren’t infected. They seemed to trust their trained animal enough to let you inside their settlement. Jackson, they called it. You’d never heard of it. Never heard of any rumblings of a massive commune. And yet…. It was gorgeous. Nice buildings, string lights, stables, a bar, dining hall, and in the distance, what seemed to look like a large, sweeping neighborhood.

Tommy had joined up with a woman: Maria. They kissed and spoke fondly to each other, so you assumed they were partners. Both walked ahead of you, while Joel remained at your rear. You figured with your rifle still pointed at you. Everyone stopped what they were doing when you passed by. All staring to get a glimpse of the newcomer. Would you be joining them permanently? Would they kill you? You asked yourself the same questions.

Your feet had stopped moving but you didn’t notice until you felt the muzzle of your rifle press against your upper back. Joel jabbed the metal against your back again, growing antsier with the fact that your gaze had settled on a teenager in the distance. She was staring at you, too. A fact that seemed to make Joel even more aggravated. He mumbled his annoyance to you and you got moving again, walking up the boarded steps into the dining hall.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

They treated you better than you expected. Hell, better than your group would’ve treated someone they didn’t know. They set a big glass of water in front of you with a heaping plate of vegetables, chicken, and fresh bread. The water was one of the biggest surprises. You couldn’t remember the last time you didn’t have to boil water before drinking it. Maybe when you were still with your parents. That felt like a lifetime ago.

Tommy and Maria shared glances like they weren’t sure what you were going to tell them. Considering no one else joined you, you figured these three (or a combination) held a great deal of power in the settlement. Joel, however, looked pissed that this was even happening at all. That he hadn’t just shot you on sight back at the hunting lodge. It was pretty easy to ignore him. You’d spent the better half of your time on earth ignoring men just like him. But then the questions started coming and you figured all this kindness came at a price. They wanted to know everything. So you didn’t hold back. Maybe if you were open and frank with them, they’d let you stay here. They wouldn’t make you go back to those awful people.

Told them that you’d been with that group for the last eight years. And in those eight years, they hadn’t really expanded their numbers by any considerable amount. That they hovered somewhere between forty-four and sixty-two people -- including the three that had been killed today – and that about two thirds of them were men. You even told them about how you’d become a sort of fun novelty for the men. That they brought you along on their scouts because you were better than anyone with a rifle. Once they got their rocks off by watching you down game a mile off, they got their rocks off again, fucking you up against anything sturdy enough to withstand the weight and pressure.

Joel looked down at his lap at that. Avoided your eyes. You took it to mean that he knew what that was like. Maybe he did the same.

You shrugged and pushed the remnants of food around on your plate. Eight years was a long time to endure that type of treatment. You told them as much.

“You don’t have loyalty to anyone in the other group?” Maria asked, probing.

“She shot one of her own guys today. Doesn’t have loyalty to anyone,”

Everyone’s heads turned to Joel. He’d since leaned back in his chair, almost nonchalantly. The gun that had been pointed at you now lay on the opposite end of the table. You thought you saw indignance in his eyes. Disdain for you and the plight he perceived you to be on. Scorched earth. Loyal to no one but yourself. Maybe that was true. Maybe you’d evolved to become highly selective in where to lay your loyalty.

“He wasn’t my guy,” you spat in Joel’s direction. It might as well have been just the two of you in the room. “He was the guy that killed my parents. So fuck him,”

It was hard to tell what they thought of you. Tommy was the only one who smiled freely. Maria saved hers for Tommy. And Joel didn’t smile at all. There was no talk of a plan or a future. No conversation about what was to become of you. All they told you as you wandered from the main street and down one cul-de-sac road lined with houses was that they didn’t allow anyone to have weapons in town. All firearms stayed at the armory.

That conversation ended as they stopped in front of a small one story cottage. It was dark and rickety, and for the life of you, you couldn’t fathom who you were to be put into the arms of. If the house was any indication, probably some horribly untidy mess of a man. Maybe it’d be the type of man you’d wished you’d have your gun around for.

Maria, Tommy, and Joel led you inside that dark, rickety cottage. Unlocked the door and flicked the lights on as they entered the living room. You kept your eyes and ears alert. Your awareness might be the only upperhand you had in sensing danger here. But you heard nothing. You saw nothing. There wasn’t another soul in this house waiting to attack. It was just you and the three who’d brought you here. They didn’t offer an explanation. Joel just stood back and eyed your every move carefully while Maria handed you a little stack of clean clothes, a toothbrush and a tube toothpaste, and a small cardboard box that held something you’d never heard of before: a diva cup.

You looked up to give her an apprehensive glance but found that she was already giving you one. It was a look you’d seen before. When you’d talked yourself into joining that other group all those years ago. It was the look the women had given you before they realized you were about to become their saving grace. She turned away from you and gave Tommy a peck on her way out; not even bothering to acknowledge Joel.

There was a part of you that admired her. For the amount of power she clearly wielded over not only these two men, but seemingly the entire commune. And the other part of you was scared of her. She reminded you of your mother. A strong, domineering type who knew how to control the men around her. You figured if the outbreak hadn’t happened and humans didn’t devolve before your very eyes, you might’ve become the same type of woman. The type who could keep her men in line with a look. The type whose men would’ve quivered at the look you’d shot them.

The front door shut behind Maria in the same moment Tommy was handing you a key. You took it in your hand and ran your thumb over the cold, smooth metal. It had been decades since you held one like it. Surely even before the outbreak, people just didn’t hand over keys to houses for nothing.

“You can stay in Jackson for a month on a little trial run–”

“Probation,” Joel interrupted.

Both you and Tommy flicked your eyes at him. While Tommy looked annoyed, you actually smiled. Somehow Joel’s bluntness was growing to be comforting.

“Jesus, Joel,”

He shrugged, “S’call it what it is. Probation to see if she’s a problem and we gotta send ‘er packin’,”

“Appreciate you both not shootin’ me,” you said, you voice sounding hoarse. You cleared your throat and shook your head absently; a small smile passing over your lips, “would’ve put a damper on my day.”

Tommy grinned though his brother looked unamused at your effort of levity. “Someone’ll come ‘round tomorrow morning around seven-thirty to bring you to the greenhouse. Teach you the workflow down there.” Then off your confused look, he smiled again, heading for the door, “if you’re gonna live in the community, you gotta help out.”

Joel turned his back on you to follow his brother, and you were quick on their heels, “what about my gun? I mean, does everyone have their own gun at the armory, or…”

“It’s a commune. We share,” Tommy said over his shoulder as he tugged the front door back open. He and Joel stepped through the threshold, but your voice stopped them.

“It’s just that… I’d rather not be here and have my gun, than be here and have someone else usin’ it. I appreciate what you’re doin’, and your helping me out, but… to me, staying in Jackson isn’t worth havin’ someone else use my weapon,”

“It’ll be safe,”

Tommy’s voice rang clear and sure, trying to reassure you of something. What, you weren’t certain. But he continued on his way, and only once he stepped off the small porch, did you realize that Joel had momentarily kept himself frozen in place. By your front door, staring you down. You started to shrink back beneath his gaze, unable to discern what it was trying to convey to you. Anger. Resentment. Disappointment. The door nearly concealed you entirely before Joel got his bearings again and descended the porch steps and jogged to keep pace with Tommy again.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

The whole thing was weird. All of it. Jackson was an anomaly and the more you tried to make yourself at home, the weirder it got. The house they’d just given you was definitely a pre-outbreak build. It was obvious. Some of the other houses on the block looked new. You imagined they’d smell new. Not your cottage. Scuffed up wood floors. Cracks in the paint and drywall. Even the wood-burning stove. And when you looked out the front window, out at the street, you saw children. Walking by themselves. Joking around. Not nearly on edge or high alert. In fact, you dared to say that they looked like they were having fun.

You’d only been ten when the world came crashing down around you. Fun ripped out from right under your feet. The homestead you’d grown up on – climbing trees, playing hide and seek, shooting down Coke cans – once a safe place to be a kid, had quickly become something to be defended. As you found out many moons later, to the death.

At ten, there wasn’t anything to rebuild in the new world. You hadn’t had any worldly possessions to hang onto. When money became obsolete, it didn’t matter because you’d never had any. Perhaps in a bank somewhere, stuffed away in a savings account that no longer held any weight. Nor did you need the money to get by in life these days. You’d heard tales of the QZ’s from people who’d come from them. Escaped from them. They had a new type of currency. Not the kind you used to have. The green paper money with a bunch of old dudes on the front. The kind your family burned sometime in the winter of 2006 when the first freeze took over and you were sure you’d never get back to the old normal.

And that was what made Jackson the weirdest. It was the closest to ‘old normal’ you’d seen in over two decades. A whole town. Village. Commune, they’d called it. A formal education had stopped young, so the only awareness of anything commune related came from a book your father had about the Bolshevik’s October Revolution. And if you were being honest, it didn’t sound too good. But on top of that, how were you supposed to rebuild now? Maria had been kind enough to give you a few things, but there wasn’t wood for the wood-burning stove. And the electricity might’ve been working, but there wasn’t any food in the fridge. No sides of deer cut up and stored in a chest freezer. How were you supposed to get that in a commune? Did they have money? Did they barter? And either way, you had no money to give and nothing to barter. So how exactly were you supposed to get on in life?

Face up, staring at the ceiling, you laid in bed willing yourself to go to sleep. You’d gone to bed hungry before. More times than you could count. But usually those nights were accompanied by a dirt floor, extreme cold, the threat of being hunted. A million other things to keep your mind off of the fact that your stomach was growling. There wasn’t any of that in Jackson. Everything was quiet, almost eerily so. You were warm. And even though the mattress wasn’t the comfiest of things, it sure as hell beat the floor. With all these little luxuries, it was hard to ignore the hunger.

But even if you had been asleep, you’re sure you would’ve been woken by the footsteps on your old, rickety porch. None of the wood planks laid exactly right. All creaking with age and rot. Much like the world, you thought. Plus you couldn’t remember a night’s sleep that wasn’t disturbed by panic or anxiety, or just plain fear. Probably hadn’t had a peaceful night like that since before the outbreak. Now that creaking on your porch made you jump up and scurry into the corner of your bedroom. Into the shadows. Praying you’d had your rifle. Cursing the idea that you’d stay here without it.

The creaking came and went in a steady procession. Four footsteps. A pause. Another four footsteps. On and on for a few minutes. Long enough for you to have gained your courage again. Long enough for you to have crawled to the front room and peek through the window. Long enough for you to see Joel Miller ambling back and forth on the porch, stacking pieces of wood, conveniently chopped to fit the size of your wood burning stove. What a stark difference from the Joel Miller who’d been pointing a gun at your head this morning. You went to the door and unlatched it, slowly pulling it open so as to not startle him. He came to an abrupt stop. An armful of wood. Staring at you.

He blinked a couple times in quick procession, gaining the wherewithal to move again. “M’sorry if I woke ya’,”

You shook your head, “I don’t sleep much.”

Joel nodded and set the armful of wood on top of the rest. He wiped his hands on the back of his jeans, almost sheepishly. “Winter comes up on us pretty quick here. Insulation in this place is for the birds. Figured you’d need some wood for the stove.”

“Oh,”

“I cleaned out the flue a couple months back so you shouldn’t smoke yourself out,”

Lips pursed together, you pondered the stack of wood nestled up against the cottage. “I don’t think I’m gonna stay. Doesn’t seem like this is the right place for me,”

Joel didn’t have a response for you, just looked down at his feet and kicked at a nonexistent something on the porch.

“That gun–my gun. My dad gave it to me in 2003. September 26th,”

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours. Pain riddled in his gaze as if he remembered that date all too well. And when it vanished, the coldness you’d first noticed in the hunting cabin returned.

“It’s all I have left. And as ridiculous as it sounds to be so attached to a rifle, I am. And I–”

“It doesn’t sound ridiculous,” he interrupted. Just when you thought he’d continue on and show a little more softness, kindness… he kept speaking, “Look, I don’t care if you stay or go. Don’t need stragglers hangin’ ‘round. So I’d love to give you your gun back and dump ya’ out past the gate. But Tommy’s always been a little stupid. Takes chances on people,”

“What an idiot,” you smirked.

A smile flashed over Joel’s face. It was gone in a second. And he turned away from you, descending the porch steps. “He’ll bring you to the greenhouse. Teach’ya how things operate, and…” he took a deep breath. Something almost like fondness erupted in his tone, “you might not wanna stay, but don’t fuck things up there for the rest of us. We got families here. And we’ll need the resources to get through the winter.”

“You think I’d fuck things up on purpose?”

Joel looked over his shoulder and nodded, “yeah. ‘Cause I’ve been in your spot before and I did.”

He continued on and you stayed put on your porch, watching him until he was out of sight. Wondering where the house he was given was. If he was alone, or if he had some sort of partner living with him. But also figured you’d never get the chance to know.

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

“We get most of our roughage and root vegetables in the colder months. There’s a constant harvest to keep up with the community’s needs, but some of these aren’t hearty enough to withstand the winter. Even inside the greenhouse,”

You nodded dutifully behind Wendy. At least you think that was the name Tommy mumbled as he was being dragged out of the greenhouse by Joel. Something about being late for patrol and not wanting to spend all day on some godforsaken cliffside. She’d just got done showing you the strawberry vines. The lifeless things that she assured you would spring to life when the warmer weather came back.

The work was easy enough. Boring. Nothing you hadn’t already done on your family’s land as a teenager. Only this was on a much smaller scale. Maybe most of these people had come from QZs. And maybe before that they came from big cities. Places where they never knew where their food came from. That it just somehow appeared in their groceries. Yet, by current standards… of canned things from yesteryear, the greenhouse was a bit of a spectacle. Something beautiful.

Wendy continued on her well-practiced lecture about potatoes as you got lost roaming the rows of plants. Up and down each long, leafed path. Fingers gliding over them, not taking the time to stop and acknowledge any plant in particular. Until, in the absence of your thought, your fingers brushed over something woolly. Pulling your hand back, you focused in. There, just beyond your fingertips, a tray of small white flowers. The petals, less like blossoms, but more like leaves. And woolly. Fuzzy. Unlike anything you’d ever seen.

“What’re these?” Eyes still locked onto your discovery, you hadn’t fully comprehended that you’d interrupted Wendy’s spiel.

And yet when she came upon you, there was no ill will or annoyance from her. Just her gentle hand on your shoulder. “It’s edelweiss,” she smiled and shrugged her shoulders when her answer had you giving her a questioning glance. “It’s usually up in the Alps. In the middle of nowhere. Jesse came back from patrol one day ‘bout a year ago with a handful of these plucked up from the root. No idea how they ended up in Wyoming.” Wendy brushed her fingers over the fuzzy leaves.

“How’d you know what they were?”

“Call it coincidence or divine intervention, my grandfather had an oil painting of them above his fireplace in the eighties. When he was stationed in Germany during the war, he’d heard all these stories about this little star-shaped flower. Soldiers would climb high up into the mountains to find them. They grow in the harshest places, sometimes even right on rocks. The journey to get them was hard. A lot of guys didn’t finish the trip, but if they did, they got to pin one of these to their uniforms. A symbol of true bravery,”

You admired the flowers again. Now even a smile crossed your face.

Wendy let out an exasperated sigh, “and I figured, hell… if they can survive on the top of the Alps and in this nightmare of an apocalypse, Jesse finding ‘em wasn’t no mistake. Maybe we’re lucky here in Jackson.”

#joel miller x reader #jackson!joel #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #ppcu fanfiction #edelweiss fic

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multi-kpop-fanfics · 11 months ago

Note

Hi zeta! So I received a notification today that I was ovulating and had a thought. Husband/Ceo!Cheol checking your phone as you received and notification that you were ovulating. Like my man would go crazy and be at it like the fucking rabbits.

(sorry why is this so long)

tw: dom!seungcheol, sub!reader (fem), marriage!au, unpotected sex (pls stay safe), breeding kink, mentions of kids and pregnancy, praise, use of petnames, daddy and mommy kink (they want to be actual parents), mating press, spanking, oral (f rec), cockwarming - minors dni.

@gyuwoncheol tagging her bcs she helped me to her own demise

"Babe?"

"Yes darling?"

"You have a new notification!" Seungcheol yells from the other end of the living room.

"I'll check it later, thanks!" You yell back, trying to make yourself heard through the noise of the kitchen mixer.

Seungcheol is a man who values your privacy and would never attempt the petty snooping around on your phone.

But how could he miss the bright notification of your cycle tracking app saying that you're ovulating?

He turns his head to your direction and looks at the shape of your body standing in front of the counter and his mind races at the thought of you bearing his kids and having them run around your legs in the future.

And it makes him want to fuck you until he has made sure you're pregnant.

He gets up from the couch and walks up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"You sure love back hugs, don't you?" You let out a small laugh.

"How can I not when I have such a pretty wife?" He hums.

"Oh, I see how it is." You turn off the mixer and turn around to face him. "Come on, out with it, big guy."

"What? Can't I just compliment my wife because I feel like it?" He pouts his lips.

"Seungcheol, you never compliment me without any reason."

"I was just thinking...."

"I knew it."

"I haven't even said anything yet!" He complains.

"Oh my God, just say it!"

"I was thinking how pretty you'd look with a belly full of our kids."

Your eyes widen with shock at your husband's blunt words. It's true that you've discussed the possibility of widening your family with Seungcheol and you know he would be the most silly and doting dad ever. But the way he looks at you and his hands tighten on your body makes you feel a tad bit jittery (in a very good way).

"Did you just think of that, or...?"

"Your tracking app said you're ovulating and I can't get it out of my damn head." Seungcheol groans.

"You checked my phone?!"

"I didn't unlock it! It was right beside me and I just saw the pop-up on the screen!"

"And that made you worked up already?" You deadpan.

"God, you have no idea." He drops his head on your shoulder and rolls his hips against you.

"You're incorrigible." You hug him with a light chuckle.

You feel his lips stretching in a grin and he throws you over his shoulder with one swift motion, carrying you to the bedroom. You complain all the way, but he just slaps your ass and puts you down on the mattress, your legs hanging from the edge of the bed.

"I am indeed incorrigible, darling." Seungcheol strips himself down to bare skin and purposefully climbs over you to grab a pillow and place it under your lower back.

"I'll do everything in my power," he hooks his fingers in the hem of your sweats and drags them away from your legs, "to get your pretty pussy," he removes your cotton panties to reveal your cunt, "full of my cum until you physically can't take more inside you."

"C-Cheol-" You watch your husband kneel on the foot of the bed, ready to use his tongue on you.

"Talk to me, darling. Tell me what you want."

"Fuck, I want your kids so bad." You moan and spread your legs, putting your hands under your knees to pull them on your sides.

"That's what I thought too." He smirks and leans down to press a kiss on your clit, followed by full-bodied swipes of his wet muscle from your puffy bud of nerves to your hole, waiting for your pussy to drip just enough to get messy.

"You're so perfect, you know that?" He brings your legs on your chest and puts your ankles on his shoulders, the head of his cock dragging over your pussy. "Perfect wife, with a perfect pussy." He whispers and slides his shaft inside you, stealing your moans with his mouth.

You let yourself get lost in the feeling of his pillowy lips, all while his cock is battering up your cunt. Your leg muscles tense up from being stretched out to their limits, but you don't want to switch up positions.

"Sweet, sweet fucking cunt, all ready to keep my cum safe." Seungcheol groans wildly on your lips, "Want to make you a mommy so bad."

"Fuck, I want you to be a daddy, Cheol, ah!" You throw your head back on the bed, watching your husband plow his hips in you relentlessly, his bottom lip caught between his pearly whites.

"W-Want a pretty little girl, w-with your eyes and lips, wanna treat her like a princess."

"And a rowdy little b-boy, so you c-can play g-games with him." You stammer over your words, but you get the message across.

"Fuck, I love you so much, darling." Seungcheol moans airily and plants his hands beside your head, rutting in you like a madman, sweat dripping down his body and a few drops landing on your chest.

"Cheol, I'm c-close." You sob.

"Me too, baby. Just a little more, please." He begs you to hold out.

You do as he says and you cum undone underneath him, his thick cock pulsing until he has emptied himself inside your cunt, not daring to pull away from you.

A few seconds of silence pass and none of you has moved yet. Your pussy clenches around his cock ever so slightly and you whimper, your legs falling limp on the bed.

"Even your pussy wants more, babe." Seungcheol chuckles and moves his cock inside you, bringing himself back to full hardness.

"You mean you've got more to give?" You pant.

"For you? Always."

#good luck with that anon 😭#svthub #scoups smut #scoups fluff #seungcheol smut #seungcheol fluff #svt scoups #choi seungcheol #svt fluff #svt smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen #answered✨#tw kids #tw pregnancy

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devildom-moss · 1 year ago

Text

October poll story

Barbatos - Monster kink

(Barbatos x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (top!Barbatos / bottom!MC) (NSFW tags: monster!Barbatos - non-canon/enhanced demonic features including increased greed and lust, claws, sharp teeth, forked tongue that matches his tail, bigger tail, and bigger "tail"; sex involving magic; no specified sex organs for MC; oral - receiving; penetration - receiving; tail penetration; double stuffed by one man - tail and penis penetration simultaneously; technically masturbation; mild bloodplay, mild primal play; begging; multiple orgasms; seriously judging myself at this point CNC - Somno; mild temperature play; implied being used as a human sex toy; no lube - but tail is naturally wet, so mostly no lube; no condom; overstim - receiving; creampie; mentions of very trusting sex)

(other tags: Plot heavy - in the first half, then it basically all erotica, everyone is annoyed with Solomon poor guy kinda?)

Word Count: +4,600 new longest fic for me?

When you heard that Diavolo was going on an overnight trip without Barbatos, you knew you had to go to the castle and get as much alone time as you could with your favorite butler. Considering that Diavolo was also being left in Lucifer’s very capable hands during the trip, you figured Barbatos wouldn’t be in the anxious state that typically overcame him when Lord Diavolo wasn’t under his close watch. So, when you turned up unannounced at the castle that morning only for Little D. no. 2 to answer the door, something seemed off. You tried not to worry, though. Barbatos was probably preoccupied with one of his many tasks.

“Well, if it isn’t Number 2, how are you doing today?” You smiled and patted his head.

“MC! I’m so happy to see you! Are you here to visit Mr. Barbatos? Ooh, I wonder if he’ll come out of his room for you. No one has seen him at all this morning, and when I knocked on his door to check for him, I heard this weird noise before he asked me to leave him alone. Can you believe that? Well, I thought maybe he wasn’t feeling good, so I brought him some tea – now, it wasn’t anywhere near as good as the tea he makes, but when I brought it, he told me that it wasn’t necessary. I left it at the door, but guess what? When I checked back, the tea was cold and untouched. I don’t know what to do, and I didn’t want to call anyone yet because that seems like something Mr. Barbatos would get mad at me for, but since you’re already here, maybe you could check on him and make sure he’s okay.” The monologue recounting this morning’s events spilled from Number 2’s mouth quickly and with no room for interruption.

Without much thought, you had followed Number 2 in the direction of Barbatos’s room – some attempt to physically follow along with his story as your brain processed the information. You let the words absorb into your mind, fishing for a relevant question. It was already past 10AM. Barbatos was always up and about by now. “Did he sound sick?”

“Can’t say. If not sick, he definitely sounded strange – like he was talking with his mouth half-full or something.” Number 2 hummed and tilted his head to the side. “Or, you know how when you bite your tongue or burn it on your soup because it smells too good not to eat it right away – even though Mr. Barbatos warned you to be careful and let it cool?”

“Sure.” You shook your head and stared down the hall. Barbatos’s room was just a few doors down.

“Anyway, I think something is wrong, so I’d really appreciate it if you could look out for Mr. Barbatos. If he really is sick, you’ll take care of him, right?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Great.” Little D. no. 2 stopped in front of Barbatos’s door and turned around to face you. “I’ll leave it to you. I’m sure the rest of us can find a way to keep the castle running while you tend to Mr. Barbatos, so don’t worry about anything else!”

“Thank you, Number 2. You’re so reliable.” You could tell how worried and eager to help he was. Number 2 nodded and left you outside of Barbatos’s door. You stood there silently for a second, listening for any strange noises or coughs, before gently knocking. “Barbatos, it’s me. Can I come in?”

“MC?” Your name was quiet and muffled.

“Barbatos? I’m going to enter, alright?”

“Wait. I –” he started to protest in an unusually slurred speech, but it was too late. You had already opened the door.

Barbatos’s eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of his bedroom. He had backed himself against the nearest wall. His typically gloved hands were bare, revealing sharp, claw-like nails. One of those hands shot up over his mouth. You heard his tail thump against the wall a few times before he grabbed it with his free hand, stilling its aggravated motions.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him cautiously. He looked different – more demonic than usual.

“Solomon,” Barbatos responded with his hand still over his mouth, only exacerbating his strange enunciation. He was frozen in place.

Of course. You sighed and shut your eyes. What did he do this time? You closed the door behind you and took a few steps into the room. Barbatos eyed you with every move – even as you reached into your pocket to pull out your D.D.D.

“I’ll call him, okay?”

You waited for the phone to ring once before you put it on speaker. Solomon picked up in seconds. “MC, my adorable apprentice, what can I do for you?”

“What the fuck did you do to Barbatos?” you asked him aggressively.

“What do you mean?”

“Something’s wrong with him, and he said it’s your fault.” Technically, that was a bit of a jump considering the facts you had at hand, but it was a logical conclusion.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Let’s see, slightly glowing eyes and the sudden appearance of claws to start. And �� if you don’t mind me adding, Barbatos – his tail looks bigger than before.”

“His tail . . .is bigger?”

“Longer. Thicker. Girthier. Do you need more adjectives?”

“Just his tail?”

“For fucks sake. I didn’t strip him down and give him a full body exam.”

Solomon hummed. “Anything else?”

“He sounds weird – like he has a lisp.” You glanced over at Barbatos, whose cheeks had grown pinker since the beginning of the call. He dropped his hand slowly and opened his mouth, revealing sharp teeth and a long, forked tongue that looked like his tail. A shiver shot down your spine, and you let out a shaky breath before adding, “that’s new.”

“What’s new?” Solomon asked, unable to disguise his intrigue.

“Sharp teeth and a forked tongue.”

You heard a breezy laugh on the other end of the line. “So, good news: I figured out what happened. I accidentally swapped the magical tea blend I made for Barbatos with the one I made for Asmodeus. Oops.”

“Oops?” You sighed while Barbatos let out a low, guttural growl.

“Asmo asked me for a tea to enhance some of his more demonic features for a photoshoot. It seems Barbatos got Asmo’s tea, so Asmo – oh, speak of the devil. He’s calling.”

“Add him to our call.” You looked over at Barbatos, wishing you could apologize for Solomon’s behavior silently.

“What gives, Solomon? Your tea was a total flop. I tested it as soon as I got up this morning. I wanted to check out my enhanced demon features before the shoot tomorrow – maybe indulge in them a bit on my own. Nothing has happened. You promised quick results. I’m still my same, gorgeous self, and all your stupid potion did was give me the urge to organize all of my make-up and tidy half of my closet. I was really depending on you to come through for me here.” Asmo complained, clearly annoyed by Solomon’s failure.

“You basically made Adderall tea for Barbatos?” you asked, staring between Barbatos and your phone.

“Barbatos?” Asmo questioned. “Also, hey, MC~! Are you calling to yell at Solomon, too?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You nodded.

“Can I speak?” Solomon added quickly, coming to his own defense since no one else was going to. “First, Barbatos asked for something to soothe him and enhance productivity so he could make good use of his day without Diavolo. Second, we had a little mix up, Asmo –”

“ – we?” you interrupted.

“Okay, I had a mix up. You have the blend I made for Barbatos. Barbatos took some of yours. MC is with him now.”

“Ooh. Enhanced demon form Barbatos sounds sexy. Does he look sexy, MC?” Asmo cooed.

“Focus, Asmo,” you responded, too embarrassed to admit the truth. Well, the truth other than that Solomon clearly sucked at making magical Adderall.

“Asmo. I have plenty of the magical blend I made for you left over. I’ll bring it by in a bit, alright? Will that resolve everything on your end?” Solomon’s voice sounded sweet, but there was a grave calmness to it.

“Yes.”

“Then hang up and wait for me, please.” Asmo did as Solomon asked, leaving the sorcerer to clean up the rest of his mess. “As for you and Barbatos, MC, I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do to reverse the effects. Depending on how much he drank, it should wear off anywhere within a few minutes to a full day. Until then, I suggest you leave Barbatos alone. All of his demonic senses are heightened – that includes his urges. He may be dangerous to be around until the effects clear up.”

You looked at Barbatos. His glowing eyes were wide and damp, and his gaze hadn’t left you once during the entire call; even when you looked away, you could feel him staring. His knuckles were white from gripping his tail so tightly. He was even trembling slightly. “No. I’m sorry. I can’t do that. He looks miserable like this. I’m not leaving him. It’ll be fine, just trust me.”

“MC.” Solomon wanted to warn you against it again, but there was no use in arguing with you. “Be careful and call me if you need me.”

“Alright, and Solomon? Learn how to label your shit.” You said it sweetly, but he knew you were livid.

“Sorry! Don’t be mad.”

You hung up the phone and returned your attention to Barbatos. He backed away, pressing his shoulders flush against the wall, as you approached him. It was hard to believe that this was a more demonic version of Barbatos. He seemed so timid and scared. Slowly, you reached your hand out to smooth his hair down. His low growl echoed off the walls like there was thunder muffled inside his chest.

Barbatos gulped and opened his mouth to speak, showing you a glimpse of those magic-sharpened teeth and that tongue – now forked and dyed black and aqua. Overcome by a sudden shyness about his new state, Barbatos covered his mouth again to speak. His breath was unsteady, and his words were quiet. “You should go.”

“But you look miserable. Isn’t there something I can do to help?”

Barbatos dropped his hand, and his gaze followed, landing on the floor. “Help? Please don’t tempt me when I’m like this. I’ve been holding back since you walked into that door – since I first caught your scent from down the hall, if I’m honest.”

You inched closer, testing the waters – testing his control before you cupped his cheeks in your hands and searched his face. When you finally caught his gaze, you realized up-close how unusually terrified he was. You’d never seen him like this, and it only made you want to protect him more – to soothe the fear this spell had pulled from him. Barbatos bit his lip, and for a second you worried he might draw blood, but he didn’t.

“Please,” Barbatos begged with a shaky exhale. You rubbed his cheek with your thumb, hoping to ease his mind. “Don’t touch me any further. I’ll only want more. I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Greed. That was his innate sin. You knew that, and it had never been a concern – even when he lost control. There was always a spark of fear – worry on the lighter days – in his eyes when you caused his composure to faulter. It flashed like lightning. Sometimes, you had to wonder if you had seen anything at all or if your eyes – if his eyes – were playing tricks on you.

The love Barbatos offered was a love that said, “I would like to cherish you always. I will treat you sweetly, and if I must be rough, it will be thoughtful and restrained.” He had never pushed your limits – never even toed the line – unless you asked him to. Now, he was warning you that he did not know his own limits. A dark, selfish, possessive need in him threatened to take everything you would offer him and then some. Barbatos was pleading with you to turn him down, to not indulge him. This was your last chance, and you knew it. All his willpower, reduced into one last-ditch effort to dissuade your trust in him – a final, feeble, “please.”

When you brought your lips to his, it was over. Until that potion wore off, he could indulge his greed until he was sick and bursting with sin; until every ounce of it had spilled over into you, you had committed to take it.

Barbatos wasted no time deepening the kiss. His forked tongue slithered into your mouth, wet and oddly cool compared to the heat of his breath. It wasn’t unpleasant; in fact, you felt a slight shame in how erotic you found this strange new sensation. His tongue entwined with yours like it had never done before. Barbatos also found himself aroused by his new abilities – even more so when you moaned for him. Eager to explore further, Barbatos plunged his tongue deeper down your throat until you could barely breathe. You felt seconds – millimeters – away from gagging on him and pressed against his chest, trying to break the kiss.

Barbatos pulled away, allowing your lungs to recover, but the desperation on his face was worse than ever. Panting and ravenous, he spoke in half-growls: “More. I need more.”

His impatience displayed itself in the way he stripped you of your clothes – reckless with buttons and balling the fabric up tightly in his hands. All the restraint he had went towards refraining from tearing your clothes to shreds. He needed access to more of your body, and with every bit of skin he revealed, Barbatos licked, sucked, and bit part of your exposed flesh.

The feeling of his cool tongue gliding up your forearm made you shiver. Barbatos sank his sharp teeth into your shoulder, breaking the skin and sending a tingling pain through your body. He soothed it by running his soft tongue over the bite mark in slow circles before he licked a trail up your neck, paving a path for him to place hickeys along. Time was lost to you between Barbatos sucking your neck and pawing at your naked body. The sensation of his claws gently scraping along your lower back left you arching into him.

When Barbatos was satisfied with his assault on your neck, he dropped to your chest, marking you and teasing your nipples between the prongs of his tongue. For someone who claimed to be unable to control himself, he sure was taking his sweet time building up your pleasure. If he hadn’t dipped between your legs when he did, you might have found yourself reduced to begging for him.

Barbatos took in the sight of how aroused he had gotten you. His breathing was labored, causing his chest and shoulders to heave. He had waited long enough. You felt his tail wrap around your thigh and pull you closer until you were right in front of his face. His warm breath primed your body for that first, slow, tender lick. Followed by another. Then, one more before his tongue was swirling circles around you. He sucked and licked you ravenously, moaning repeatedly into your body. Barbatos’s moaning was peppered with the occasional growl – reminding you, lest the lust caused you to forget, that Barbatos was an untethered beast.

He clawed up your thighs in the same ravenous manner. Claws sank into the flesh of your ass and thighs, scratching you and pulling you back against him whenever you had squirmed too far away for his liking. You couldn’t escape the constant barrage of stimulation and pleasure. Barbatos refused to stop until he pulled an orgasm out of you. Even then, he overstimulated your sensitive skin with a few teasing licks, cleaning up some of the mess he had made of you. Your knees buckled, but Barbatos got to his feet and pulled you close to support you.

You had not even caught your breath nor come down from your high before Barbatos was kissing you again. He slipped his cum-stained tongue back down your throat, ensuring that you tasted yourself. A low growl rumbled deep in Barbatos’s chest that shook you to your core. The storm had not passed. You weren’t even in the eye of it yet.

As Barbatos continued to kiss you, the familiar sensation of his tail wrapping around your thigh caught your attention. This time, instead of pulling you close, he pulled your legs apart. Had he not been holding you tight, you would have stumbled with the sudden jolt. The silky tips of his forked-tendril-like tail teased between your legs in gentle alternating strokes, occasionally lingering to cup you for a few seconds before the pressure slipped away. Barbatos was building you up all over again. You gripped his shoulders, simultaneously trying to ground and support yourself.

Despite the cloud of lust disorienting him, Barbatos recognized the signs of your weakness and dragged you towards his bed. Even as he pulled you across the room, his tail refused to stop teasing you and preparing you for what was to come. Barbatos had no sooner finally stopped kissing you when your back hit his mattress with a soft thud. Staring up at him, you saw a distorted image of the demon you adored. Maybe it was the enhanced demonic features and those glowing green eyes, or maybe it was the look on his face that told you he was not quite the same Barbatos. His hunger for you had never been this strong – perhaps it would never be this primal and ferocious again. Repressing any fear or hesitation, you wanted to revel in his uninhibited lust.

Fortunately, Barbatos’s tail had a natural wetness to it that aided in the insertion. He lacked the clarity and patience to apply lube before the tips of his tail squirmed into your body. Barbatos delighted in the way your face contorted in pleasure – how you bit your lip to hold back a moan. The prongs of his tail felt cool and soft as they stretched you out, applying pressure to the most sensitive places inside of you. You writhed under him, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to touch you more.

Barbatos scratched his claws gently down your ribs and towards your navel. He fucked deeper into you with his tail and applied slight pressure to your pelvis with his palm, stretching his fingers out above your stomach. Those claws loomed threateningly above your skin while his tail pumped in and out of you. You thought his tail had looked bigger than before, but now you could feel just how much thicker he was. However, you only had a few seconds to dwell on the size before the threat of claws came to fruition and dug into your stomach. The outermost layer of skin split for him, and five distinct pink marks appeared on your stomach; he nearly drew blood. You whined at the pain, but the way your back arched and your muscles tightened told Barbatos that you were in more pleasure than pain.

A brief flash of normalcy came when you heard Barbatos chuckle and saw his lips tug into a wicked smile. “Are you cumming again?”

The noises you were making as another wave of intense pleasure overtook you were the only response Barbatos needed. He was kind enough to slow the movements of his tail as you tried to bring yourself down. It wasn’t fair. Barbatos was making you feel incredible. You were supposed to be the one taking care of him, but there you were, stripped and writhing on your back. All the while, Barbatos was still fully clothed – barring the lack of his standard gloves which had already been removed prior to your arrival. You wanted to make him feel good too.

You reached out for his pants, trying to undo them so you could at least touch him, but Barbatos took hold of your hands and stopped you. “Please, let me focus on you for a bit longer. Please?”

There was no sweetness in his begging – only desperation. It was less of a plea and more of a demand. Refusal seemed off the table, even if you chose it, but you couldn’t. You could hardly refuse Barbatos when he said “please” under normal circumstances – and even less so when he stared at you with such wanton desire.

Barbatos entwined his fingers with yours and held your hands while he watched you come apart on his tail. The way you rolled your hips to get him to press the spot that left your mouth agape was so cute. If he had been gifted with more patience and less greed, Barbatos would have relished in the sight of you fucking yourself on his tail and using him – especially in the exhausted, fucked-out state you were in. Did you realize how flushed you were? Could you feel how hot your skin had become? Were you aware that you had scarcely stopped whimpering and moaning for him in the last few minutes?

“You’re taking it so well,” Barbatos cooed. His affectionate gaze held your attention, even as he pulled another intense wave of pleasure from you. Something about the dim glow of his eyes captivated you. “You’re doing such a good job for me, but can you keep it up?”

Barbatos slid his tail half-way out of you as he dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed. He was trying to go back down on you, but with no opportunity to recover, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. You tugged his hair and stopped his lips and tongue from overstimulating you, earning a whine from him.

“Barbatos, I need you to fuck me now,” you demanded. You couldn’t take another round without at least making him cum once.

Barbatos savored that desperation in you – even if it was just a fraction of his own. He nuzzled your inner thigh playfully. “Just one more taste?”

“No.” You pulled his hair again and made him look at you. “I need it now.”

“Very well.” Barbatos pulled his tail out of you completely and got to his feet. For a second, the way he spoke was so calm that you believed the tea must have been wearing off. Those shining green eyes stayed fixed on your body as he removed his clothes, tossing them into a dark corner of the room. Perhaps the storm was showing signs of passing.

When Barbatos dropped his pants, you couldn’t keep your eyes off the bulge in his underwear and the damp stain, but he didn’t stay contained for long. He stripped fully, finally releasing his cock. He was so hard, and he dripped precum onto the floor. Your mouth watered. Well, if Solomon asked again, it wasn’t just Barbatos’s tail that was bigger than usual. However, you had already taken his tail; you could take this, too. You wanted it.

Your eyes glanced back up at Barbatos’s face as he aligned himself, rubbing his dick against your entrance. Those glowing eyes caught yours, stalling your breath. Even in the dim lighting, those eyes now seemed to be the darkest thing in the room. A low, satisfied growl escaped Barbatos – the last warning from a predator closing in on his prey. The storm was not over, you had merely found yourself in the eye of it for one brief, relenting moment.

He rocked his hips into you, relying on precum and the combined fluids from you and his tail to lubricate himself as he slowly pushed every inch he could get into you. You gasped. The sensation was so different from his tail – so much warmer, pulsating and throbbing inside of you. That initial slow thrust was for your benefit, but it was not intended to set his pace. Barbatos quickly picked up speed, transitioning into rapid, shallow thrusts that repeatedly rubbed against your walls. Still, he seemed to be focusing on maximizing your pleasure.

“I need more,” Barbatos warned you, but you were drowning in too much pleasure, moaning and panting beneath him, to register his warning.

Instead, you whimpered at the shock of Barbatos slipping his tail inside of you. The forked ends swirled around Barbatos’s cock as he continued fucking you, stimulating you both at the same time. It felt like thick, cool, squirming ridges around a hot, throbbing core. Not even an advanced toy could do this to you. But it wasn’t enough for him. Barbatos reached down between your legs to stimulate you further – somehow lucid enough to take care not to scratch you. His touch was light and gentle, contrasting his other insatiable actions, and making your head spin. It was all too much for you. You came again, tightening around Barbatos as you did. He kept fucking you through it.

A pleased moan escaped Barbatos, signaling that he was close. His hands slid up your body slowly, and then, without warning, he clawed down your sides and grabbed your hips. A stinging sensation immediately followed. He gripped your hips so firmly that his claws broke the skin as he forced himself so deep into you that it almost ached. Barbatos gave you a few more deep thrusts before he bottomed out and held you in place. He pumped his cum into the deepest parts of you, filling you up.

Barbatos lolled his head back with a sigh and a smirk. His chest heaved. It took you squirming against his pelvis for Barbatos to realize that he was still holding your hips up against him. He slid his cock out of you, released his tail’s grip around himself, and gently laid you back down.

You looked so blissful and exhausted, but Barbatos had just gotten started. Simply looking at your flushed face and heaving chest was making him hard again. He caressed your cheek; some of the blood he had drawn from clawing at your hips smeared onto your skin. Barbatos leaned down and licked up the mess. When your cheek was clean once more, Barbatos whispered into your ear, “I’m so sorry, lovely. I’m not done. Do I have your permission to keep going?”

His words floated around your hazy mind. You smiled at him affectionately with your eyes half-lidded and reached up to stroke his cheek. Exhaustion was overcoming you. “Yes. Take whatever you need until you feel better.”

“Even if you fall asleep?” Barbatos asked with some of the timidness from earlier.

“Even if I pass out. Even if it hurts. Even if I cry. Be as greedy as you have to be with me.” Maybe you were cum-drunk. Or maybe you just wanted to make Barbatos feel better. Either way, you resigned yourself to being used for the next few minutes or hours or days.

“Thank you, my love.” Barbatos kissed your cheek sweetly.

You watched the dim glow of his eyes dreamily, focusing on them until the rest of the room began to disappear. With your body spent, all you could do was whimper as you felt Barbatos enter you again. Even the pleasure began to dull as you let yourself slip further into the haze. His deep growls and panting were the last thing you heard as your mind fell silent.

Your last thought before a sweet dream swept over you was that, without a doubt, Barbatos would be a mix of grateful and apologetic when you woke up again.

In the morning, Barbatos would ensure you were hydrated, well-fed, and tended to. He would be an affectionate, doting butler for you. And then, someone would have a hefty price to pay.

A/N: I did not think this was going to end up so long, but please enjoy. I am worried I got a little too carried away here. . . but this was still the less deranged Barbatos monster kink idea. Anyway, requests are open and will be until the end of Nov. 5th. And I hope this one does something for some of you.

#moss poll fic #barbatos #gn!mc #spice tier #obey me #obey me barbatos #barbatos smut #barbatos x mc #barbatos x reader #obey me smut #this one is for the monsterfuckers #especially the ones who love the you're a monster but I trust you dynamic #also not me using a storm motif because the pattern on his tail is lightning-like

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choiyawnzjun · 11 months ago

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next part

pairing ; nerdychurchboy!jake x afab!reader

sypnosis ; the nerd at church isn’t quite as innocent as you think.

genre ; smut

wc ; 1110

warnings ; making out, dry humping, orgasm denial, oral ( f receiving ), fingering ( lemme know if i missed anything )

you always thought that you would never talk to the new boy that had come to your school just a few months ago. he always hung out with that school clique nobody really cared about. however, he did go to that church your parents would force you to go to with them every sunday but you guys still never talked. that was until you both became partners in physics. after that, you guys would talk every so often. even in church.

he was friendly but.. he was such a neek. you hated it so much because he was always talking about these science things to you that you would never understand. you thought that he would always stay a silly virgin if he was just going to talk about science the whole time with people. you never told him that, of course. but… one day you got carried away.

“gosh, you know electrolysis just-..” you cut him off, you guys were in the church attic together, you decided to skip the mass today and just chill upstairs, you were going to be alone but jake decided to tag along. at first, you were hesitant to let him go with you since you knew he would just talk about science the whole time but you thought that maybe he wouldn’t this time. however, you were wrong.

“oh my god, jake!” you whisper-shouted, throwing your head into your hands, getting frustrated about hearing him ramble like this all the time.

“do you ever talk about anything else other than science? like, at first i was fine with it until i got sick of it. i’m not even sick of it anymore i’m just worried about you now.” you rambled on, not looking at him even once.

“why worried?” he asked, perplexed by the sudden comments you were making now. he hadn’t realised he’d been talking about science so much.

“how are you going to even get girls if you’re just gonna talk about science all day long? like, that’s no fun is it now?” you scoffed, you looked up to see his blank face turn into a cocky smirk as he slowly walked over to you and knelt down on one knee to face you.

“what do you mean? of course i’m fun. i just haven’t shown you it yet.” you were the one confused now as he just stared at you, waiting for your response.

“what do you mean ‘you just haven’t shown me yet’ like, shown me what?” your voice being soaked in absolute confusion and curiousness, you stared back at him, observing every single detail on his face.

“well, i didn’t really wanna be doing things you weren’t okay with.” he shrugged, now sitting down next to you. you stayed silent for a few moments, not having a clue on what to say next. you didn’t really know what he was talking about.

you were so immersed inside your own world that you hadn’t realised he had gotten closer to you, gazing at you with his dark brown eyes.

“what?” you awkwardly laughed, trying to avoid eye contact with him.

“can i kiss you?” he casually asked, cheekily smiling at you. you were hesitant at first by the sudden question but you didn’t really mind. it was just going to be one innocent kiss, right?

you leaned closer to him and your lips moulded together like two perfectly puzzle pieces that matched. his lips were pillowy which you loved and the only thing that surprised you was that he was a very good kisser. like very good.

he slipped his tongue into your mouth when you slightly gasped for breath and he pulled you onto his lap. you both pulled away from each other for a few seconds, his glasses were foggy and his eyes looked hazy and were half-closed. he tugged on your shirt, asking for permission to unbutton it which you gave. he impatiently unbuttoned your shirt as you were both giving each other sloppy kisses. the wetness you were getting down there grew and grew that you started to grind onto him.

“shit, i can feel your pussy throbbing on me.” he groaned, rubbing your thighs with his hands.

“i wanna feel you so bad, jake.” you complained, fiddling with his belt, wanting it to magically come off him. this adorable action made jake chuckle a bit.

“be patient, don’t be a little brat, hm?” he smiled, leaning towards you and peppering you with kisses. he hiked up the dress you were wearing that complimented you a lot which turned jake on even more. he gazed down at your panties and was greeted with a wet spot on them.

“jesus christ, why are you so wet already? I’ve barely done anything. are you that desperate to get dicked down?” your face heat up from his remark but you could care less because what he said was true anyway. you haven’t had sex in a while so…

“can i?” he made you lie down on your back and he hooked your panties off with two fingers after you nodded. his face was now in contact with your slick-covered folds that were glistening in front of him.

“fuck..” he muttered underneath his breath which fanned against your clit. he slowly delve into your pussy, sucking and licking on your clit as if he hadn’t eaten in god knows how long. he inserted a finger into you and all you could do was cover your mouth to muffle the moans and whines that were begging to be thrown out into the air.

“why are you so good at this, jake?” you managed to let out, your legs fidgeting around until jake had to hold them down to keep you still. after what you said, he sucked onto your clit harder as if there was no tomorrow. he inserted another finger into you after your sudden comment.

the moans you were trying so hard to cover could not be covered anymore, your hands naturally grabbed jake’s hair as you bucked your hips against his face while he lapped against you.

“fuck! jake! i’m gonna cu-..” the tightening knot that was burning in your stomach slowly vanished as jake pulled away from you, your juices all over his chin and lips.

“sim jaeyun, why would you do that?” you cried, frustrated because you haven’t felt that good in so long.

“i still haven’t shown you how fun i am yet.” he shrugged, getting up and dusting himself off even though there was really nothing on him.

“maybe i’ll show you later when you’re begging for it.” he winked, leaving the attic.

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hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf · 25 days ago

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Kinktober Day 15: Size kink with YunGi

Trigger warnings:

Content warnings: names (honey, sweetheart, baby, tiny, little one), oral (f receiving), fingering, size kink (it’s in the name babes), the boys kiss a couple times and talk to each other about mc as if she isn’t there

Summary: Your two best friends finally drum up the courage to ask if they can fulfill your fantasy.

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: hi all 🥰 after much consideration, i’ve decided to repost my kinktober 2022 stories. i had a great time writing these a couple years ago and want to share them again now that it’s been a while and i’ve had time to fall in love with them again. i hope you all enjoy! and by all means, feel free to send a message or comment here if you’d like to be part of the new tag list!

Tags: @bahng-chrizz

Smut below the cut

“But you get what I’m saying, right?” Your eyebrows were raised so high that if you attempted to lift them any further they might merge with your hairline. You were defending yourself against their teasing after you once again began to drone on and on about the wonders of large men and how perfect the world felt when one was taking care of you. “Like large, warm men are just ideal. I love it when a man makes me feel tiny, regardless of his actual stature, but big guys are the fucking dream.”

“So are you saying we’re every girl’s wet dream? Or just yours?” Yunho quirked an eyebrow at you and your face dropped, suddenly embarrassed about where your rambling had gotten you. Of course, they were every girl’s wet dream - especially yours - but you hadn’t meant to admit that.

“Are we ideal, y/n? Half a foot taller than you, moderately attractive, physically fit…”

Moderately attractive? Mingi, come on now. Moderately attractive is an insult to both of you. You’re both fucking hot… You realized you’d been staring between them without so much as blinking and quickly shook your head, turning back to the tv and pressing play. “You know what I meant…” You mumbled, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Right, right, sorry…” Yunho conceded, standing from his place beside Mingi on the sofa. “I’m gonna go grab a beer. Want anything?” You both shook your heads no and Yunho left to retrieve his drink. Mingi watched him go, giving a subtle nod as he exited the room before turning his attention back to you.

“Between you and me, he’s ideal, right?” He asked quietly as he scooted the tiniest bit closer to you, leaning down in an attempt to appear secretive. “He’s tall and pretty. He has really nice hands and he’s a great cuddler and he’s so fucking warm…you’re into that so surely you can appreciate the masterpiece that is Jeong Yunho, right?” His voice dipped lower and you just barely managed to contain the shiver his tone prompted, placing the remote on the coffee table and settling back in.

“Stop, he’s gonna hear…”

“So I’m right then.”

“I didn’t say-”

“You didn’t disagree with anything I said, even refusing to answer so you wouldn’t incriminate yourself. I’m right and we both know it.” He rolled his eyes, leaning in so he was only a few inches away from you.

“What are you right about?” You startled slightly as Yunho dropped down beside you, beer in hand.

“Nothing. He-”

“That she thinks you’re hot.” You all went quiet for a moment, your cheeks flushing crimson as you waited for Yunho to speak up.

“Is that so?” He sounded amused as he settled in, draping his arm behind you on the sofa.

“Mhm. I asked her when you left and she didn’t even try to deny anything, just told me to be quiet so you wouldn’t hear.” Mingi hummed. Fucking traitor.

“How cute.” Yunho teased, leaning a bit closer. “Your face is all red, honey, are you okay?”

“Yeah ‘m fine…” You mumbled, eyes still trained on the tv. The condescension in his tone made your gut twist in excitement and you tried not to let it show but they both noticed the way you pressed your thighs together.

“You sure about that?” His knuckles brushed against your jaw and you swallowed hard as his long fingers tucked your hair behind your ear. “You look like you’re struggling, sweetheart.”

“Like you need a couple of big, warm men to take care of you.” Mingi added, using your previous statement to his advantage as he caressed your neck with his knuckles. You closed your eyes as you took what was intended to be a steadying breath, which quickly became shaky when you felt hot breath on either side of your neck.

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut…” You muttered and they both chuckled softly before Yunho backed off. You could almost breathe again when he tipped your head back with just his index finger, forcing you to rest your head on his arm.

“Maybe you should’ve. But you didn’t and now we know you definitely had us in mind when you were going on about how much you love large guys.” Yunho’s voice was deeper than usual and almost raspy now as he gently gripped your chin between his first finger and thumb, turning your face towards him. “Look at me.”

You didn’t want to. You were afraid of what you might find if you did. What if they were just toying with you and were going to walk away as if nothing ever happened after confirming their suspicions? You knew they weren’t cruel like that but the fear was still there. After a few moments of silence, during which his thumb swiped back and forth across your chin, you finally opened your eyes and looked up at him.

“Do you want us to stop? Because we will if that’s what you want.” You didn’t. You definitely didn’t want them to stop. But you were embarrassed, almost ashamed to admit how much time you’d spent thinking about this moment, thinking about them. “Y/n.” He pulled you from your thoughts and you blinked up at him. “Do you want us to stop?”

You slowly shook your head and sucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you watched his expression grow more relaxed. He’d been so concerned that they were crossing the line but he was filled with renewed confidence at your response. He gently pulled your lip from between your teeth with his thumb and his eyelids grew heavy as he leaned in.

You gasped quietly when you felt Mingi’s lips on your neck but Yunho was quick to drink up the sound, pressing his lips to yours. His hand dropped from your chin and moved to grab Mingi’s hand from his lap, urging him to touch you. You let out a soft whimper when their hands slipped under your shirt and both of them responded with low groans as their hands moved higher. Mingi’s teeth scraped against your neck as he tugged your bra down and you pushed into his hand, head spinning when Yunho licked into your mouth.

Your hands, which had initially become fists at your sides, unfurled and reached for either of them. You ghosted your fingertips over their thighs and took note of the way Mingi shifted closer to you in the hopes that you’d touch his dick. Yunho seemed to have a little bit more control than Mingi, barely reacting when you gently squeezed his thigh. But when you did finally press your palms flat to their laps, Yunho’s lips left yours as he let out a soft curse. Mingi groaned and pushed upwards into your touch but Yunho grabbed your wrist to stop you. Your disapproval was obvious as you whined in protest but Yunho quickly silenced you.

“Your room or mine?” His question was directed at Mingi, who pulled back and looked down at you with a dazed expression.

“Yours.” Without another word, Yunho stood and you had to fight the sudden urge to spring forwards and start mouthing at the tent in his flannel pajama pants. Mingi stood with him and you looked up at both of them, trying your hardest not to stare at their dicks. Yunho seemed to notice your struggle and chuckled softly.

“Poor thing wants us so bad, Mingi. Look at her.” You wanted to pout but the whole thing was too hot. “You can stare all you want, sweetheart. You can even touch if you’d like.” He finally addressed you and you shivered. You certainly did want to touch them but you refrained, standing with them. You were entirely too thrilled at the way they loomed over you.

Mingi didn’t say a word as he ushered you towards Yunho’s bedroom, his large hand on your lower back as you walked with the two of them. His jaw ticked as Yunho closed the door behind you and for a moment you wondered if he actually wanted this. Then he turned to you and pulled you against him, capturing your lips in a demanding kiss, and you realized he was more than a little excited to be there.

You craned your neck to kiss back and placed your hands on his shoulders, trying not to get too far ahead of yourself. You felt Yunho step behind you and shivered when his large hands came into contact with your hips. Being caught in between them was dizzying and you didn’t know if you’d be able to exist in the same space as them without combusting after everything was said and done.

Yunho’s hands slipped between you and Mingi and he cupped you through your flannel pants that matched his own. Mingi’s lips began to trail down your neck and you allowed yourself to get a bit louder as they worked you up. You finally let out a desperate whine and pushed into Yunho’s touch, opening your mouth to beg for more only to be cut off. “You want us to fuck you, tiny?” You nodded quickly at Mingi’s question as he pulled back from your neck to tower over you. God he was so tall…

“Tiny? That’s-” You responded to the name before Yunho could finish, looking over your shoulder at him expectantly. “I was gonna say that was a cute name but the way you whipped around to look at me as soon as I repeated it has me thinking cute isn’t the right word.” He let out a huff of laughter and started to pull back, hands catching the hem of your shirt and lifting it. “Can I take this off?” You nodded again and a moment later you were topless.

Mingi didn’t bother asking before unclasping your bra, dropping it on the floor once he had it off. “Fuck…” He groaned, leaning down to take your nipple in his mouth. You’d known for years that he appreciated a nice set of tits and you’d caught him staring at yours before but never brought it up because it didn’t seem that important. Now you were starting to wonder if there’d been more to it or not because the way he took in as much as he could, sucking before pulling off with a pop, a string of spit connecting you to his mouth…well it was clear he’d spent time thinking about the best course of action if he ever got the chance to play with your tits.

Yunho chuckled at Mingi’s neediness and pulled you closer to him, his erection pressing against the small of your back as you rested your head against the front of his shoulder. “You want her that bad?” He teased, earning a glare as Mingi righted himself. “I guess I can be nice and let you have her first.”

“What, don’t wanna try eating her out together?” Mingi challenged with a grin. Your cheeks went a soft pink as they spoke about you as if you weren’t there.

“Now there’s an idea. What do you think, sweetheart? Want us to take turns tasting that pretty pussy?” Yunho hummed as his hands moved from your hips to your bare belly. Your panties were already sticking uncomfortably to your folds but the way he asked his question made you soak clean through them.

“Please…” You nodded eagerly, annoyed at how desperate you sounded. They started to pull away and you grabbed them by the wrists, looking between them. “Can…can I touch you both first?” You wanted, needed to at least feel their skin under your touch before they each had one of your legs slung over their shoulders.

“Of course, honey.” Yunho cooed.

“Anything our sweet girl wants.” Mingi added as Yunho leaned down and pecked your shoulder.

You looked up at Mingi for a moment before reaching for him. Your hands slipped under the hem of his shirt and gently gripped just above his hips. Your thumbs swiped back and forth, taking in the way his skin burned under your touch, and you finally looked up at him. He looked ready to devour you but didn’t move an inch as you took him in.

Finally, you allowed your hands to move higher, taking his shirt with them. You carefully pulled it over his head a moment later and tossed it aside before allowing your palms to press against his firm chest. He wasn’t built but he was beautifully toned and your mouth was running dry as your fingers danced over his skin. Your hands looked so small against his chest it was almost comical.

You shuddered at the realization of just how small you were compared to them and leaned forwards to press a series of soft kisses to his chest as your hands slid lower. Your nails lightly scraped against his stomach before you hooked your fingers in his waistband and his breath hitched as he tipped his head back. He allowed you to push his matching pajama pants down but stopped you when you reached for his boxers, urging you to simply tease him instead of stripping him.

You wanted to slip your hand inside his underwear but refrained, knowing if you started touching him then you wouldn’t stop. Instead, you toyed with him through the thin cotton, running your fingertips along the outline of his length and allowing your tongue to dart out just to say you’d finally gotten a taste of him. He let out a low groan and was about to haul you off to the bed when Yunho grabbed your hips and pulled your ass against him.

“Don’t you think it’s fair that we both get some attention, sweetheart?” You didn’t get a chance to respond before they worked together to spin you around. Mingi pulled you into his chest as Yunho tugged his shirt off, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around you and play with your tits again. Your mouth ran dry once more at the sight of him. He was softer than Mingi, probably the slightest bit warmer too, and had the faintest of happy trails. Your knees grew weak and you reached for him only for both of them to stop you in your tracks. “I don’t think I can wait any longer. I’ve gotta taste you.”

You whined when you were prevented from touching him but allowed them to move you to the bed, biting your lip when Yunho lifted you off the floor. “Fuck, she’s so little…” Mingi said, voice somewhere between a moan and a sigh as he watched Yunho carry you.

“So small and pliant…” Yunho sighed as he placed you on the bed. “Why don’t you move to the middle of the bed and make yourself comfortable, little one?” You whimpered at the name and quickly complied, reclining against Yunho’s fluffy pillows. Something about the way his scent surrounded you made you dizzy, made your pussy clench in excitement.

“I think she likes that one.” Mingi hummed and turned his attention to you. “You like being called that, baby?” You nodded quickly and lifted your hips when Yunho’s fingers hooked in the waistbands of both your pajama pants and your panties.

“I like when you guys make me feel small…” You murmured and pressed your thighs together when you were finally laid bare before them, somewhat nervous to show them the effect they’d had on you with only a few touches.

“So much so that you have to hide it from us?” Yunho teased as he kicked his own pants off and moved towards you. You blushed and bit your lip, keeping your eyes down.

“Come on, tiny.” Mingi joined you on the bed and placed a hand on your knee. “Can we see?”

You gave a small nod and Yunho mirrored Mingi, both of them guiding your legs apart. You had to force yourself not to squeeze your legs back together when they both let out soft curses under their breath. “She’s fucking soaked.”

“Do you think she’ll be able to take us?”

“Not together like we’d hoped.” Wait, what? Your eyes snapped to Yunho, wide with confusion.

“What, did you think we hadn’t discussed this beforehand? We’ve wanted you pretty much since we met, tiny, of course we talked about it.” Mingi’s words went straight to your pussy and you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

“Then why the fuck didn’t we do this sooner? I’ve been dying to get pinned down by one or both of you for years now.”

“Is that so?” Yunho’s lips twitched up into a smirk and you nodded. “Well then we ought to take care of you right away, shouldn’t we, little one?”

“Please do.” You nodded vigorously and they both settled on their stomachs between your legs. The way they looked up at you, their eyes filled with an excitement that betrayed the laid back demeanor they were both trying to convey, made you stifle a pitiful sound.

They didn’t wait for any further instruction, they both simply wrapped an arm around your thighs and let their fingers spread you open as they dove in. You gasped and allowed yourself to sink into the pleasure, propping up on your elbows to get a better look. The sight that greeted you had your stomach twisting in excitement.

Their tongues worked fast against you, tangling with each other as they went. They were practically making out with each other right over your pussy and you felt like you might just pass away if they actually attempted to do something together while you watched. You couldn’t dream of stifling the mewls of pleasure they forced out of you as you watched helplessly.

You felt disappointment bubble up in your chest when Yunho pulled back in favor of kissing your thigh, leaving a series of gentle bites in his wake. That disappointment was quashed when Mingi closed his lips around your clit and sucked. You allowed yourself to fall back against the pillows as your back arched but that was a mistake. Looking away meant you didn’t know what was coming, though you couldn't have prepared yourself for the delicious sensation of Yunho’s long, beautiful fingers sliding into you.

They mentioned having discussed this before but how often had they talked about it? This was practiced. They worked together too well for it to have been a single conversation. Yunho’s fingers curled and pressed against your g-spot, dragging along your walls as he thrusted them into you at the same pace as Mingi’s tongue flicked over your clit. You weren’t going to last long like this.

You felt a burn spreading beneath your skin as they worked you closer to your orgasm but it was cruelly ripped away when they halted their actions. You made a distressed noise, your head shooting up off the pillows to see why they stopped. Just as your eyes focused on them, they kissed, sucking on each other’s tongues as they savored your taste. They quickly resumed, this time Yunho eating you out while Mingi’s fingers plunged into you, and your eyes rolled back. That was easily the hottest thing you’d seen all night, both of them so eager to taste you that they were willing to get even the smallest amount from each other’s mouths.

Your head spun as you relaxed against the pillows again, both hands reaching to pull their hair. The knot in your belly was growing tighter with each thrust of Mingi’s fingers, each flick of Yunho’s tongue, and you were certain you were about to fall apart. You warned them of your impending orgasm but they didn’t dare let up to draw this out any longer. No, they carried on and the pleasure steamrolled your entire body, rendering you helpless as your thighs trembled beside their heads. You let out a pathetic wail as pure bliss filled your veins, your grip on their hair tightening to the point it was painful for them, though they certainly didn’t mind. They were both into that.

They only slowed down when your moans began to border on screams and you began to try and squirm away from them. You were thankful you didn’t have to tell them it was becoming too much because you weren’t sure you could form words at the moment. Your brain was mush. You were unable to lift your head despite your desperation to watch as they kissed again, cleaning up your release with their tongues.

When you could finally move again, you lifted your head and bit your lip when you found them staring back at you. “Think you’re ready to take us, little one?”

“Cause we’re dying to feel you, tiny.”

You nodded but didn’t get a chance to speak before they were putting you in position.

<-d-14 | d-16->

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