Surprise bitch, bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.

If you don't have a Tumblr or watch American Horror Story, I'm sorry for the offense, but the circumstances were so perfect for that statement, I couldn't help myself.

I will never abandon this story. I promise, promise, promise. If y'all keep telling me you want more, I'm going to give it to you.

I know updates are spaced out and sporadic, but classes are killing me. But despite my delay, some things haven't changed. Like my weirdly timed updates (4:50 in the morning), and my obscene amount of cursing that I don't feel that bad about (everyone loves a good fuck right?), and as always, my love for Mako and his overreactions to everything having to do with Korra.

Your reviews are the only things that keep dragging me back to this story, and the reason I cannot give up these two characters and the things I throw them into. Reviews are what I fall back on, and what I re-read over and over again to remind myself I'm actually going someplace with these characters.

Tell me if you like the hot and heavy stuff because I know I do :)


"If that motherfucker looks at you one more fucking time I'm breaking his fingers."

Korra rolls her eyes, let's go of my hand and pulls her drink to her lips.

"Don't act like this is nothing, because it's defiantly something," I point out and glare across the bar at the tattooed asshole who's been staring at Korra with beady eyes all evening.

"You're paranoid," She says as she swallows her whiskey with a grimace.

"I'm your fucking boyfriend and I don't fucking like it," Her nonchalance is irking me, and his stare is pulling at my skin, and I want to bust his nose with my fist.

"And I'm your fucking girlfriend, and I don't fucking care," She says sarcastically and purses her lips together. "Who cares if he's fucking looking? I'm with you aren't I?" She swallows the last of her drink and pushes it towards the bartender with her fingertips.

"Motherfucker needs a fucking reality check," I mutter and narrow my eyes at the beefed up, bearded douche fifty feet across from us. He's not even looking at his fucking girlfriend next to him. His attention is half on his date, and his eyes entirely on my girl and it's been boiling under my skin all evening.

"You're jealous," She states, and I switch my gaze from the problem to the cause, and she's hot under low lighting — hair thick and long down her back — eyes opaque in kohl and dark lashes.

I kind of feel like a jerk because tonight we're supposed to be celebrating the newly painted red walls of our living room, and all I can do is focus on is this guy staring at Korra like a piece of fucking meat.

"Yeah, I'm fucking jealous," I say, not looking at her and thinking of all the pressure points on the body, and how fast I can hit each one of them.

And I guess this is my biggest fucking problem with this whole situation I'm putting us in. He's not the first guy to look at my girl, and he's not the first one to lace his gaze with desire. But I'm her fucking boyfriend, and he should be angry it's me and not him.

He should not be ignoring the girl beside him, and he should not be licking his lips and telling the bartender to keep sending Korra drinks that she keeps sending back. I am itching to get up and show him where he can put his free shots of dragon whiskey, but I don't want to act like some possessive school boy — which is essentially what I'm feeling like — instead, I am sitting my ass down and trying to swallow the fire in the back of my throat.

"You shouldn't be, because I'm going home with you tonight — not him," She's getting blatant and brazen, and I grab the neck of my beer and pull it to my lips. I look down at Korra and her full hair, and her blue eyes that are shades of pewter and sapphire under this light, and her lips are full and pink, and I am such a possessive asshole for all of these aesthetic reasons.

She grips the edge of the bar and pushes her stool back and bumps her hips against my legs, and wedges her way between my legs, and stands there. She pulls the beer out of my hands, and takes a long sip and I watch her throat as she swallows, and her chest as it rises and falls, and the dark purple and black clothes that wrap tight around her body.

She lowers the beer and sets it on the bar, pushing it forward so it rests beside her empty glass. She turns her gaze up towards mine, and her hair falls over one shoulder and down her back. She leans forward and braces one hand at the nape of my neck, pulling my head closer to where she can't reach on her tip toes. My body sags forward on the stool, and I start losing the rigid posture this evening has had me in.

Korra puts her lips against my jaw, and I can feel her tongue against the skin, and it's suddenly too loud and too damn hot in this place. Her hand knots itself in my hair, and she pulls and I try to muffle my groan. Her other hand is resting on my thigh, and I'd like to think it's the alcohol that's making her fingertips run up and down my jean clad thigh in this open bar, but I'm not betting on it.

Her lips kiss across my neck, and she bites lightly at the corner edge of my jaw and my thighs squeeze her body closer between my legs on instinct. She kisses under my ear, and her hand is scratching my scalp, and the other is tracing the outline of the pocket in my pants.

Her breath is hot against my ear, and her voice is heady and she smells like cinnamon-vanilla, my sheets, aged whiskey, and our painted walls. I open my palms and drape them over the space between the end of her ribs, and her full hips.

"Do you know who I'm going home with tonight?" She asks, and my eyes move upwards to the problem, and his spot at the bar, and his face is in a scowl. Korra pulls my earlobe between her lips and I close my eyes and relish in his new found jealously.

"You," She says, twisting my hair between her fist, and gripping my thigh in her small hand. "Do you want to know something else?" She secret-whispers.

She scrapes her fingernails on my scalp and grasps my hair in her fist, and I groan out in pain and pleasure, and her mouth latches on my neck, and I feel her teeth graze the thin skin. She likes breaking capillaries and coaxing new love bites on my neck. I suck in a breath through my clenched jaw as her mouth opens in a promise on my throat.

She licks the new bruise — caressing the wound — and kisses up my neck towards my ear. Her fingers run through my hair, and her thumb presses against the muscles in my upper neck. Her hand is running up and down my thigh, and she presses closer in between my open legs, her chest white-hot against mine. She lowers my head, and her warm breath is at my ear again.

"I fucking love you, and I'm going to deep throat your cock," She whispers in my ear. Her voice is laden with hard liquor, and sex, and I feel something open in my chest, and everything gets tight in my jeans. I groan, and it resonates from the same place my jealously stems from — my desire and my claim I have in her — I grip her waist harder.

She's so small; my fingertips are practically meeting at the small of her back. I'm probably pressing too hard, but I am growing hard and she's pressed blush-rose against me — she loves this rough shit and I know she doesn't mind.

Her declaration of putting my dick in her mouth until she practically swallows and chokes is not shocking. Korra craves inhibition and primal instincts — she likes getting off where people can walk in on us, and she likes doing it in a room full of people, she likes biting me until I bruise, and she likes when I press her hard into mattresses and walls as I grind myself against her.

"Bite me," She moans against the shell of my ear. I drag my nose against her jaw line, and her scent is more potent here — I can taste it on my tongue. I can almost see the fire underneath the thin stretch of skin here, like I feel the burn underneath mine.

"Do it," She pushes against me, arching her back, and the underside of her jaw is now exposed to my lips. "Make it obvious. Let that motherfucker —" She stresses the word, dragging my earlobe between her teeth. "Know who I belong to," She turns her head and exposes the warm skin under her jaw to me.

I lift my right hand from the grip I have on her waist — like a snake letting go of its prey — and I place my fingers at her hairline above her ear. I pull away slightly and watch her closed eyelids, and her collarbones that cast shadows across her neck. She's all boned-cleavage, desire, and mine — I tuck her hair behind her ear, and run my fingers through the strands as I make my way down her back.

Her shoulder is curved and they are washed with freckles and small scars. Her skin is dark and tan, and it shimmers with whatever she put on before we left the apartment, and she smells like home.

I push her hair behind her shoulder, and let my other hand drift upwards over her ribs and her upper back, and I grab her hair and pull it to the other side, and expose her neck completely. I feel the man across the bar looking at me — I feel his eyes heavy on our bodies — he's watching my lips as I kiss across her shoulder. I nip at the strap of her top, and flick my eyes up to where I know he's sitting.

His mouth is closed now — an upturned look of disgust on his obnoxious fucking face. It's bordering on a snarl, but he's lacking his bravado now, and I smile into Korra's shoulder and lick the curve of her neck.

"I know you want to drag this out," Korra breathes against my ear. "But you need to get on my neck already."

I chuckle against her, and kiss and nip my way across her skin until I reach her pulse, and I feel it on my lips. It's etched into my own heart — it runs its own set of veins and arteries in my body — I feel her against the dark burn in my bones.

"Watch him," She murmurs. "Watch him when you do it," I feel her trembling against my form, and I flick my eyes up to the man who's hand is now gripped tight around his beer, and his arm that's now wrapped tightly around his girlfriend. I kiss her skin in apology, and pull it lightly between my teeth.

"Oh fuck, please, please —" She groans and pushes against me. I look at the inked man one last time before I close my eyes, and bite into her neck. "Shit," Korra mutters and braces her hands on my shoulders.

I let go quickly, but pick up the bruised skin in between my teeth once more, and bite harder. Korra's breath is hot on my throat, her hands dig into the back of my neck, and her forearms tense themselves over my shoulders . My girl craves this feral and wild loving, she always does, but it's not my thing, so I try to avoid it — but I want to give this to her.

If I give her things she wants — things she only wants from me — than it makes it utterly impossible for everyone else to think they can give these to her. I let go of her skin, and I run my tongue against the new purple and red mark in penance. I kiss it one last time in mercy, and run my lips over her jaw, and kiss my way to the corner of her mouth.

"That was fucking hot," She laughs unsteadily. She pulls away and throws her head back, letting her hair flow down her back and exposing her bronzed skin now marred with a love bite that's mine — these lights are now broadcasting her features, but they can't reach what I just did.

She looks like the ocean against the sun, and the color of caramel with fire under its belly — and she has me written across her skin. I grab her face between my hands, and tilt her head further back, and her body curls into mine. I pull her close, and she lowers her head and turns her head into my palm.

"You're so perfect," She mumbles with a smile, and pulls away and kisses the inside of my palm. "I love you like I crave fire," She says, her voice thick with lust. "I can't feel anything but you anymore. You're everywhere. I can't feel anything besides you."

Korra arches herself against my body and I feel her pussy hot against my dick and everything turns red and I thrust against her without entirely meaning to. Her head lulls against my shoulder and neck and I barely hear her mumbled words.

"I sit at meetings, and I listen and I guide the nations, and all I can think about are your hands and your mouth, and you cock in my mouth," She lets go of her death grip on my hair and moves her hands to my hips and thrusts back against me.

"I'm a kinky fuck," She says with a half laugh. "I know you're not, but all I see is you bending me over the conference table, and scaring that old fire nation bitch with your dick," She laughs again and kisses my mouth, her tongue tracing my lips.

"I think you drank too much," I grin honestly against her lips.

"I did," She admits with a shrug. "But I still think about it. I bet she'd turn red, but she'd be jealous as shit," Her eyes are on mine, and she's so hot and a want to fuck her until I'm so deep inside her I'm all she can feel.

"You're so fucking crazy," I tell her as her mouth opens against mine ,and her tongue brushes against mine.

"You love it," She points out. I roll my eyes at her, and kiss her instead of swallowing my pride. Her mouth is hot, and I thrust against her again, she circles her hips against mine, and things start to close in on themselves. I pull away and grind against her and everything hurts in my body, and like I fucking junkie, I need another hit of her.

"Can I take you home?" I ask. She pulls away and turns her head as if contemplating, and a smirk settles itself on her graced face.

"Can I suck your cock?" She offers. My mouth almost drops at her lack of restriction, but I just grab her waist and push my stool out from underneath me and gaze down at her. She raises her eyebrow, making it known the question requires an answer.

I raise my right hand and trace it up her body and grip the back of her neck hard, and her breath catches, and I can feel her slipping into her beloved submission. I lean forward and bite her earlobe.

"I thought you said you were going to deep throat?" I say it sarcastically, but she doesn't recognize the tone, and instead registers the words and groans loud from deep within her chest. Her hand pulls my left one away from my body and she turns and pulls us through the pressed bodies.

I turn my head to the far wall and watch as blue balled asswipe scowls at me. I raise my hand in a wave and upturn my middle finger.

"Don't be a dick," Korra scolds in front of me without even turning around. Her free hand reaches behind me and she strokes my cock in my jeans, and my hands drag her body back against my chest, her hand trapped at the small of her back. I lean down and kiss her shoulder, and press my hips against her body – my cock hard in her small hand.

"Baby, don't stop, we need to get home," I scold back and grin against her neck. Korra lets go of my dick, and stalks forward, pushing rough against the swaying and dancing bodies. The speakers are pouring out sultry notes, and the bass is so deep its drumming in your throat.

I throw back my shoulders and fist my hand around Korra's fingers. I watch everyone catch our forms as we leave the bar. The new-millennium Avatar, and the lucky son of a bitch who gets to love her. I smile and lean down and whisper hot against her ear.

"I love you," I kiss the back of her ear as she stumbles over a step. She reaches the wooden door, and grips the iron handle twisted like ivy and pushes forward, and cold air hits like a burn. She turns and places a haste kiss on my mouth, her lips chapped and dry.

Her hair is windblown, and her eyes are full of deep mirth, her cheeks are pinking love-blushed in the bitter air. I can hear the faint sound of the quasi-sex rhymed beat in the bar, and grab her face between my hands, and run my thumbs over the splashed red on her cheeks.

She's too good for me. Her kinks and her desires, and all of her compassion, and her strength — it's all too good for me. I kiss her softly because I know its going to get rough and jagged when we get in our new red painted home, but I can't bring myself to feel guilty or ashamed over what she'll want me to do.

I want to giver her all of me, and everything she wants from me, because she gives me the moon and the sun, and I can barely hand her stars.