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makoodles · 11 months

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ミ the mightiest

part 1 | part 2

🍓 pairing: neteyam x human fem reader 🍓tags: nsfw, aged up neteyam (obviously), jealousy, alien cultural misunderstandings, oral sex (f receiving) vaginal sex, size kink, voyeurism, brief na'vi oc x reader, mentions of reader sleeping with other na'vi men

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

notes: okay i had to split this into two parts because it surpassed the tumblr word limit 🙃 here’s part 1, and I’ll post part 2 in a day or two!

adult neteyam art created by the incredibly talented @cinetrix, whose work motivated me to write for adult neteyam in the first place!!

The tsahìk’s hut is cool and dark, offering a much needed reprieve from the hot balmy air of the day outside. It’s been a quiet day for you, though you can’t complain about that; it’s a pleasant change of pace from the usual hectic rush of people that usually pass through.

It’s one of the rare days that Mo’at has left you to tend to the duties of the healing hut alone; it had taken years to reach this level of trust with her, and you find yourself almost deliriously proud to be able to help out. Na’vi medicinal practices are very different to human ones, but your training in first-aid has given you enough knowledge and experience to hold your own when it comes to helping out with the smaller day-to-day ailments that tend to pass through the healing hut.

Besides, you’re always happy to give Mo’at a break. She had claimed that she needed time to commune with Eywa, though secretly you suspect that she just likes to take some time to herself in her old age. But that’s fine – you’ve always found helping out in the healing hut soothing, and your heart swells at the fact that Mo’at trusts you enough to leave you in charge, even if it’s only for a few hours.

It also helps when your patient is a big, hunky alien warrior with more muscles than brains, who sits in front of you as you smear a herbal paste over the scratches he had gotten in training earlier that day.

Txeyto is not an easy patient; he flinches when you prod his wounds, whines when you clean them, and complains as you smear the paste on his scrapes. It’s a little irritating, but the sight of his big broad shoulders and chiselled abdomen is enough to soothe the worst of your aggravation.

“Are you nearly finished?” Txeyto complains, flinching away from your fingers once more.

You bite your tongue and force a smile. Patience has never been your strong suit, and Txeyto is certainly testing the short reserves you have left. But he’s very handsome, and very skilled at archery, and you feel that his physical attractiveness outweighs the minor personality flaws.

“Yes, just another few moments.” You murmur, keeping your voice low and soothing as though speaking to a child.

Txeyto settles a little when you use the baby voice on him, and you struggle to keep your face blank at the ridiculousness of it all. Men are such children, even the big strong Na’vi warriors that should be above such behaviour. He’s lucky he’s handsome.

“How did you get these injuries, hm?” You ask, using a light touch to dab some of Mo’at’s specially formulated healing paste onto his scrapes. You keep your fingers as gentle as possible, but Txetyo still winces dramatically.

He perks up at your question, his tails swaying low over the floor where you’re both sat cross-legged. “I have been training very hard. I am one of the best archers in the village now.”

“No doubt.” You murmur distractedly as you work.

“But it is important for a tsamsiyu to be competent in many forms of combat, so I must practice my hand-to-hand combat also,” Txetyo continues, apparently forgetting to wince now that he’s talking. “Neteyam has been helping me train.”

Ah. You can’t help the face you make at that, and you’re thankful that Txeyto’s back is facing you so that he can’t see your expression. You also can��t help the way you cast a quick glance towards the entrance to the hut, as though worried that simply speaking the name aloud will summon Toruk Makto’s eldest son.

“Is that right?” You say, keeping your tone carefully neutral. “So, he’s the one that got you all scraped up like this?”

Txetyo’s shoulders flex under your hands, and you realise without looking at his face that you’ve stung his pride.

“I scraped him up also.” He grumbles, shifting to try and peer over his shoulder. “They are wounds to be proud of, as I got them in combat.”

You don’t think that a couple of minor scratches from wrestling around in the mud with one of the village’s biggest dickheads count as combat wounds, but you don’t argue. You just hum non-committedly, paying more attention to his bruises than is entirely necessary.

“You should be careful,” You say instead, running your fingers carefully over one of the bruises discolouring the pretty blue skin of his defined bicep. “It’s a shame to see these lovely muscles all bruised up.”

There’s a long moment’s pause. It seems as though the cogs in Txetyo’s head are working slowly, because he seems to be struggling to understand your flirty tone of voice. But when it finally seems to click, he turns his head to peer at you with wide, curious eyes.

“Ah,” He says, his shoulders squaring as he seems to preen. “You like them?”

God, he really is a little dumb. But that’s okay. You don’t necessarily need a man with brains.

“Mhmm,” You hum, allowing your hand to rest on the bulge of his bicep. “I like strong men.”

That’s true, if a little bit of an oversimplification. You’ve lived as a human on Pandora your whole life, but it was only in recent years since you’ve reached adulthood that you’ve started really paying attention to the people around you. And good lord, you had some impressive specimens to look at.

You find yourself drawn to their athletic and toned bodies, their radiant blue skin, their cat-like grace and agility. Maybe it’s because you had grown up on Pandora with no humans your age other than Spider, but you find yourself especially drawn to your size. The sheer size of their hands alone are enough to fluster you, especially when your brain is flooded with images of those big hands in other contexts.

And luckily for you, there’s no shortage of Na’vi that are interested in experimenting with humans, too.

Txetyo visibly perks up, his ears twitching forward as he finally seems to notice the way your much smaller hands are lingering on his body as you patch him up.

“I am very strong.” He says, tail thumping against the ground.

You fight the urge to sigh. He’ll never make a great conversationalist, but that’s alright. He’s big and strong and handsome, and you just want to relieve some tension.

“I know.” You murmur, your lips quirking a little as you shuffle around so that you’re kneeling in front of him, your knees pressed close to his thighs. “But I could still kiss your scratches better, if you’d like.”

Kissing wounds better is definitely a human colloquialism that Txetyo doesn’t understand, judging by the furrow of his brow, but he doesn’t seem to care. He reaches out and wraps a big hand around your waist, and you feel a pulse of arousal low in your belly in response.

“You like my muscles so much that treating my wounds has aroused you?” He asks, the smugness in his voice impossible to miss.

His pompousness is a little irritating, but you can ignore that because his hands are big and warm and it’s exciting to feel his palm start to push its way under your cotton tank top. The few Na’vi men you’ve been with before had been absolutely fascinated with the soft squishiness of your human breasts, so your breath hitches in anticipation as his hand reaches up to grope at your tits over your bra.

Okay, you can probably admit that you’re a little pent up. It’s probably a terrible idea to allow Txetyo to feel you up like this in the middle of the healing hut, but you’re horny.

If you’re telling the truth, you’ve been hoping for a chance like this all week – but there’s one thing, one irritation, that has been preventing you by interrupting every damn chance you’ve gotten alone with any man.

In fact, you’ve been interrupted so often and so many times that you’re almost expecting it, even as Txetyo’s big hands squeeze at your tits. He’s a little rough with it, but he’s so much bigger than you that you suppose that’s unavoidable – besides, his strength only adds to the thrill.

Then, just like clockwork, as though there’s some kind of sensor that goes off whenever you’re about to get some, there’s a rustling sound by the entrance of the hut before the little woven drape covering the doorway is pulled back.

And then, who else would be standing there, but Neteyam. One of the few people on the whole planet that can actually ruin your whole day just by showing his stupid face.

His eyes find you, but his expression doesn’t change as he glances over your flustered expression and the hand that Txetyo still has shoved up your top. He tilts his head, and it feels as though he’s examining every damn detail all at once; the ointment smeared all over Txetyo’s bruises from training, the way you’ve shuffled so close to Txetyo that you’re practically straddling his thigh, your unsteady breathing behind your mask.

“Ah. Am I interrupting?” He asks with a hint of wry humour to his voice, as though he hasn’t interrupted every attempt at getting laid you’ve made this month.

It has to be on purpose. That, or he has some sort of nearly supernatural sense for when you’re horny, because he always seems to show up every goddamned time. Somehow it’s gotten worse in the last few weeks, too. You’ve barely been able to get a moment alone with whoever you’ve been chatting up before Neteyam has appeared, snapping at them to get back to training or duties or whatever lousy excuse he’s been able to come up with in the moment.

“What do you want?” You snap, impatient and too strung tight to waste your energy on pretending at politeness.

A very delayed reaction finally hits Txetyo, and he scrambles to remove his hand from the inside of your top. His hand alone is so large that the outline of it is painfully obvious even through your shirt, and you close your eyes with a sigh as he clumsily pushes himself away from you in a rather ungainly attempt at pretending nothing was going on.

“Neteyam!” He blurts, his ears flattening against his skull. He’s clearly mortified at being caught in such a position by Toruk Makto’s son, and he overcompensates by attempting to scoot away as though he hadn’t even been touching you.

You try not to roll your eyes – you’re used to this, after all. You’ve been with several Na’vi men, but they all seem to have the same sort of embarrassment about actually being open with the fact that they’ve hooked up with you. You can’t be all that annoyed about it, you suppose. You understand where it’s coming from. You’ve been around the Omaticaya your whole life, and while the taboo of having Sky People around has faded somewhat, that doesn’t mean that anyone is actually willing to admit that they’ve been with you.

You’re used to it. It’s fine. You’re just a little mortified that Neteyam is currently witnessing the scramble for Txetyo to get away from you.

He’s watching the other man with his head still tilted to the side, his big golden eyes dark in the cool shade of the hut. A muscle in his jaw is flexing, like he’s trying not to laugh.

“I will- I will see you later?” Txetyo whispers to you as he stands. He probably intended for his voice to be low enough that it stayed between just you and him, but the hut is quiet enough that there’s no doubt Neteyam can hear him just fine.

“Mhm. Yeah.” You murmur back, watching Txetyo’s big broad back as he steps away from you, all hasty and flustered.

Txetyo gets as far as Neteyam, who’s still standing with his arms crossed in the doorway. Neteyam doesn’t so much as shift, his eyes dragging with lazy satisfaction over the myriad of scrapes and bruises that he had left on Txetyo during their sparring earlier.

Txetyo shifts on his feet, visibly nervous in the face of his future chief’s judgement. “Ah… Will we train again tomorrow, Neteyam?”

Neteyam hums non-committedly, before finally stepping away from the doorway. He brushes past Txetyo, and you wonder if he’s always so dismissive of his fellow warriors or if he’s just being an even bigger dickhead today for some reason.

“We will see.” Neteyam says shortly, though he’s not even looking Txetyo’s way.

Taking that as the dismissal it so clearly is, Txetyo nods awkwardly before disappearing out of the hut, leaving you and Neteyam alone.

For a long moment, you do your best to avoid looking up. You’re beyond irritated right now, made so much worse by the fact that your panties are kind of wet and you’re so fucking desperate for attention right now. The little wooden bowls knock together clumsily as you try to arrange them without looking up, but it becomes difficult when Neteyam lowers himself down to sit opposite you.

“The tsahìk’s hut is a bold place for such activities.” He says, and you don’t have to look up to know that there’s a stupid smug look on his face. “What would my grandmother think?”

As he sits down, he places a woven bag by your knee. You don’t need to look at it to know what it is; he’s always bringing stuff to the healing hut for his grandmother. Herbs or medicinal plants, fibres for weaving bandages, even animal bones that he had whittled down for needles for suturing.

Even you can grudgingly admit it’s thoughtful; but he only ever seems to bring it when you’re around. It’s like he just wants to rub it in your face that he excels at everything he does – it’s extremely annoying.

You finally look up, your face already scrunched in a scowl. “What do you want?”

He raises his hairless brows at you, an expression he no doubt learned from his father. “I would like my cuts from training treated. What else would I be here for?”

And now you know that he’s just messing with you, because while Txetyo was covered in bruises and abrasions from his tough training session earlier, Neteyam doesn’t have a single visible scratch.

“What exactly am I supposed to treat?” You ask, voice tight.

Neteyam shifts, proffering you his shoulder, and you see a single scrape along his otherwise flawless striped blue skin. You purse your lips, staring at it in mild disbelief.

“You can’t be serious.” You say, deadpan.

But it’s clear that Neteyam is serious, because he’s already stretching out on the comfy woven rugs of his grandmother’s hut as if he belongs there. It’s obvious that he has no intention of moving – he must have come here just to torture you.

You blow out a frustrated breath, the inside of your respirator mask fogging up briefly before rapidly clearing. Neteyam is infuriating. He gets under your skin in a way that no one else does, as though he knows every goddamn little button to press just to aggravate you.

Maybe it’s just a by-product of having been raised as next in line to lead the Omaticaya, or of being Toruk Makto’s oldest son, but you’ve always found Neteyam closed off and distant.

Truthfully, you can’t say for certain if he’s always been this way. When you were young teenagers, you hadn’t had much contact with him; he was always busy with his own training, and then the whole Sully family had left for Awa’atlu. When they had returned, several years later, Neteyam had been more reserved, and yet somehow even cockier and more confident than ever.

“I don’t understand you. There’s no need for you to get this scrape seen to, and you know it. You just like wasting my time.”

He just watches you as you complain, his eyes hooded and dark in a way that honestly leaves you a little heated. He doesn’t deny it, which only irritates you further. You knew he was just trying to annoy you!

“It’s your job to treat wounds when you’re here, isn’t it?” He asks, and you can see the way his tail is lazily undulating behind him, skimming across the woven carpet. He’s enjoying arguing with you.

You huff out a put-upon sigh, before grabbing two of the jars. The ointment is naturally antiseptic but it goes on with quite a sting; you try not to feel satisfied about that as you coat your fingers in it before dabbing it onto the scrape on Neteyam’s shoulder. You’re not as gentle as you’d usually be either, your patience is too thin for you to be considerate with him right now.

But this is not Txetyo. This is Neteyam, and he doesn’t so much as flinch as you rub the paste over his still sluggishly bleeding scratch, even though you know it must sting. You try not to feel irked by his stoicism.

As you work, Neteyam’s head rolls back. In a move that’s almost imperceptible, his nostrils flare and he scents the air. You assume it’s the fairly astringent scent of the herbal paste you’ve just pulled out that’s bothering him, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Problem?”

His lips quirk, though he manages to keep his expression neutral. “No. I am simply enjoying being under your tender care.”

You narrow your eyes at him. He’s mocking you now.

The fact that he had walked in on Txetyo’s hand up your top as he groped at your tits feels like a heavy unspoken weight in between you as you dab at his minor wound. You keep waiting for him to bring it up, to laugh at you for it, but he remains stubbornly quiet as you work, his golden eyes watching you in quiet contemplation.

In fact, he’s never brought up any of the times he’s interrupted you right before you got with someone. He’s caught you in varying levels of undress, with Na’vi men over you, under you, holding you, touching you, kissing you, but somehow just before anything good actually happened. Every time the men had scrambled away from you as though you were something diseased, mortified at being caught with a tawtute by Neteyam, a man that (for some reason you can’t comprehend) they seem to have an awful lot of respect for.

In the beginning, you were inclined to come up with excuses for him; he was Jake Sully’s oldest son, and was inevitably going to keep track of his peers and where they disappeared off to when they had duties that they should be attending to. But now, you think he’s doing it to spite you specifically. It might be a bit of a self-centred thing to believe, but you’re almost certain of it.

You shift on your knees beside him, raising yourself up a little to ensure that you’ve covered all parts of his scrape. You don’t want him returning tomorrow to complain that you didn’t do a good job.

You have to bite back another sigh as you do so, your thighs rubbing together in a way that sends a sharp jolt up your spine. You’re horny and needy and so, so resentful of the fact that you’re now treating the same man that’s the direct cause of your state right now.

Neteyam’s attitude wasn’t the only thing that changed in his time away, however. You have to keep your eyes fixed carefully on his bruising shoulder, because if you didn’t you know that your gaze would wander, and that’s a dangerous game to be playing in the presence of someone as perceptive as Neteyam.

But it’s difficult not to look. Time and ocean air has been kind to him; he’s grown as tall as his father, and whatever sort of training or work he had been doing with the Metkayina has resulted in broader shoulders and a more sturdy build than is typical of the Omaticaya. It’s galling to admit, and makes you feel as though you’ve eaten something sour and unpleasant, but Neteyam is hot as hell.

He might be aggravating and smug and too cocky, but no one in their right mind could deny that he’s attractive. Not even you. Especially you, if you’re being honest with yourself, considering your penchant for enormous blue alien men that could snap you in two with a pinkie if they felt so inclined.

God, you really have to think about something else. You’re so wet that your panties are starting to get uncomfortable, so you focus determinedly on the resentment that’s still simmering over the fact that Neteyam had interrupted what was promising to be a very productive encounter with Txetyo.

Neteyam shuffles a little where he’s sitting in front of you, and your eyes track the way his muscles bunch and shift under his vibrant blue skin. Damn, but seeing Na’vi musculature up close never gets old, even if it’s Neteyam.

You’re almost finished with dabbing paste on the tiny scrape (and you hate to admit that it had taken you longer than it should have due to your distraction), when Neteyam half-turns his head towards you.

“My back is sore, also.” He murmurs, though his eyes remain downcast.

You pause, staring at him. “Okay. And?”

There’s a moment where the two of you just look expectantly at each other. When nothing comes of that, Neteyam speaks again.

“You are playing healer today, are you not?” He asks, and his left ear twitches oddly. “Or is your attention all reserved for Txetyo, hm?”

Your cheeks heat in humiliation and your jaw clenches. You knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself from making some sort of stupid comment.

“Lay down.” You snap, prickly and embarrassed.

“Yes ma’am.” Neteyam purrs, probably all satisfied that he’s gotten under your skin. He reclines, all of those lithe muscles flexing and bunching as he rolls over onto his stomach.

You grab another pot of ointment, and then take a moment to steady yourself.

You know that he’s winding you up on purpose, just like always, but you can never figure out why. He doesn’t treat you like any of the other men in the village do – they might enjoy fucking you, but they’re rarely caught dead in public with you, worried about what it might mean for their own reputations.

Neteyam is bolder, more confident; though the burden of responsibility that he carries is unmistakable, he never seems to get caught up with the petty whispering and musings of the village people. It’s just unfortunate that he seems so set on bothering you.

Your mouth goes dry as your eyes drop mindlessly over the expanse of his long, pretty back. His skin is stretched tight over lithe muscle, little luminescent white freckles glinting like little stars. He looks so smooth, though the flawlessness of his body is marred by thick pale scars that litter his skin, courtesy of the near legendary battle with the RDA that you hear happened off the coast of Awa’atlu.

You glance down, flustered. Fuck. It would be so much easier to hate him if he wasn’t physically perfect.

“Problem?” Neteyam’s voice is a little lower in register than it was before, perhaps because he’s lying on his stomach with his head pillowed under his crossed arms.

You twitch. Shit. You had gotten distracted, and had lost yourself staring at him.

“No. Shut up.” You blurt reflexively, dipping your fingers into the oily ointment used for easing sore muscles.

Neteyam huffs quietly, a sound that could be a grunt or a laugh, but doesn’t bother responding. It makes you feel as though you’ve lost a game you didn’t know you were playing.

Antsy and on edge, you lean forward and survey his strong back properly. When he's laying out in front of you like this you can see the way his back is knotted with tension and his shoulders are hiked up around his ears. It doesn't look too bad, but it can't be comfortable either.

You take one more moment to admire the musculature of his shoulders, before gathering yourself and dipping your fingers into the ointment. It's balmy against your fingers and smells a little bit like blueberries, and begins to tingle when your hand is entirely coated.

"Where does it hurt most?" You ask, your voice quiet.

In the silence, you can hear Neteyam’s throat click when he swallows.

"My neck and shoulders." When he speaks, his voice is a little deeper than expected.

The very first touch to Neteyam’s back pulls a quiet sigh out of him; it sounds like relief.

Considering his size, it takes surprisingly little to have him melting under your hands. Your fingers spread under his scapula, finding a knot in the muscle and pressing in hard. It takes a bit of finagling, but after some firm pressure you feel the muscle begin to soften beneath your touch.

Gaining confidence, you return your kneading fingers to his neck. He really is terribly tense, and shivering spasms flit up and down the muscles of his back in regular intervals as you drag the warm palms of your hands over him. As your fingers work into his tense muscles, he lets out quiet little grunts that are muffled by the cradle of his arms.

“Why were you so hard on Txetyo during training?” You ask as your fingers dig into the tense tissue of his back. Your voice is unintentionally loud in the quiet of the hut. “He looked as though he had been attacked by a thanator when he was here earlier.”

Neteyam just grunts. “Txetyo is an overconfident skxawng. He is not nearly as skilled as he thinks he is.”

You click your tongue, dissatisfied with that answer. “I could say the same about you.”

Just like all your attempts to insult him, your words seem to bounce right off him. Stupid thick-skinned bastard. His pretty mouth tilts up in a smile.

“I have the skills to back it up, paskalin.”

Your lips purse at the name, your cheeks hot. God, he’s such an asshole.

When you exert pressure as you run your fingers down his spine, Neteyam grunts softly into his arms. The sound is startling in the quiet, interrupting the steady rhythm of your quiet breathing.

"Does that hurt?" You ask. Your voice comes out a little shakier than you’d like.

"No." Neteyam’s voice comes out in a low, gravelly rumble. The sound of it almost startles you into snatching your hands away, but you manage to refrain yourself. "Keep going."

You just swallow thickly, and try to keep yourself on task. “He just wants to be better. He was excited to train with you–”

“Lower.” Neteyam groans, shifting under your hands.

You clench your teeth. Really, you should probably just walk away from him. There’s no real need for you to be doing any of this. He’s not even injured, and who knows whether he’s telling the truth about his back being tense.

But you’re stupid, and you’ve never been good at walking away, from either fighting or fucking. This strange encounter feels as though it lies somewhere in the middle of those two things. Your palms drag down to his lower back, and he flinches briefly before melting under your touch.

His body is so big that it’s difficult to get a good angle to knead properly at his tense muscles, and before you can think too hard about it you swing your leg over his hips. You settle back, perching your weight cautiously at the base of his spine.

It's a braver move than you would usually make, but you try not to second-guess yourself — like this, you have so much more leverage to rub at the rigid sinews of his back. You drag your knuckles down the length of his spine and he groans into the cradle of his arms.

You try to ignore the excited flutter in your belly. It’s just Neteyam. You’re not actually getting turned on from this; the only reason you’re so affected is because you had been horny with Txetyo. You shift where you’re sitting on his back, but you have to force yourself still almost immediately, because the friction nearly makes your lungs seize.

“Comfortable?” Neteyam murmurs, and you can hear amusement in his voice.

“Shut up.” You say reflexively, before scowling. “I can’t believe you interrupted me and Txetyo just for this. You have, like, one bruise–”

“It’s a very sore bruise.” He murmurs lazily, sounding unbothered. “Do you think squeezing your tits might help? That seemed to help Txetyo feel better.”

You pause, jaw dropping in indignation. “I– shut up!”

Neteyam makes a noise that sounds like a snicker, and you dig your fingers down the planes of his back vengefully. His waist narrows into an elegant taper, and when you reach the part of his back where his ass begins to swell, you exert firm pressure against the base of his tail.

If you had done it to a human, you know it would have hurt. But instead the tightness of the muscle unfurls under your fingers, and Neteyam gives a long, low groan. The sound is delightfully gravelly, and you take a breath as you feel molten heat ooze down into your belly and settle between your legs. It’s not a reaction you had been expecting.

You sit back onto his lower back, avoiding his tail. From here, you have a truly captivating view of how slick his back looks from the ointment, and how his skin glows in the dim light of the hut. His body really is perfect, and your eyes track over the taut shiny scars that litter his skin.

“Mmm. May I get up? Or do you want to sit on me a little while longer?” Neteyam’s low voice breaks you out of your stupor, and you’re horrified to find that you’ve just been sitting there with your wet panties pressed against his back beneath your thin shorts.

You scramble off him quickly, flustered and clumsy. It had been a bold move to straddle him in the first place, and now you feel very stupid about it.

“You should apologise to Txetyo.” You blurt, just to say something into the silence.

“Why are we still talking about Txetyo?” Neteyam has always been a relatively tolerant and even-keeled man, but you can hear irritation beginning to bubble up in his voice.

“Because–” You start to say, but then Neteyam rolls over so that he’s laying on his back.

Now that he's lying on his back, stretched out all long and lithe, your eyes rove over his face and then down his throat, his chest, his stomach, his hips. Your eyes catch on the protrusion between his legs and stick there, your mouth dropping open in surprise when you see that his loincloth is tented.

“Because- he… you were too–” You try valiantly to finish your sentence, but your thoughts have scattered to the wind.

He’s hard. Why the fuck is he hard? Is that just from you rubbing his back? Oh my god, what are you supposed to say? It feels like his hard-on is staring at you.

Neteyam pushes himself up into a sitting position, his hands planted on the woven rug behind him as he pushes himself up so that he’s sitting looming over you. Once he’s upright, Neteyam flexes his shoulders and groans slightly as he goes. It doesn't sound like a pained groan, thankfully.

The movement brings him closer to you than you had been expecting, and you end up freezing. Like this, you can see the way his expression has smoothed into one of relief. His shoulders are looser too, no longer held bunched up around his neck.

Neteyam doesn't seem to notice your close proximity, nor the way you have tensed at the lack of space between them. You’re not touching, but you’re so close that you swear you can physically feel the air between you.

“If Txetyo is so upset about being beaten by me in training, then he should focus on getting better instead of slinking away with his tail between his legs and trying to screw you in a corner of my grandmother’s hut.”

You gape at him like an absolute idiot, floored by the acerbity in his tone. You’ve always thought Neteyam was a bit of a dickhead, but that was mostly because of his nearly insufferable need to always be the best. Always the best warrior, the best son, the best brother, the best future Olo’eyktan. The best role model to his peers.

“So that’s what this is about.” You say, your voice coming out distinctly accusatory. “You don’t like that your friends are fucking a human, is that it?”

Neteyam doesn’t even bother answering. He just rolls his now loosened shoulders and watches you carefully. He doesn't tell you to back off, or wrinkle his nose at you, or act as though he's repulsed by you. He just stares at you across the miniscule space between you, and that only angers you further.

“Is that why you keep interrupting whenever I’m with any of the other tsamsiyu?” You demand, fists clenching. “What, you don’t like that your friends find a tawtute attractive? Is that why you keep cockblocking me?”

Neteyam huffs a quiet snort, as though he thinks you’re being stupid.

“I hear what some of the Na’vi in the village say, about how it’s shameful to be with a tawtute.” You hiss. “I just didn’t think you’d be one of them.”

And if you’re honest with yourself, it sort of hurts. Neteyam has always gotten on your nerves with his confusing mix of overconfidence and jagged insecurities, and he had really infuriated you when he had started to interrupt all of those illicit little meetups you had planned with some of the boys in the village, but you hadn’t actually thought that he had any disdain for you like some of the other Na’vi.

And then you do something so stupid that it shocks even you.

Your eyes drop back down to the tent in his tewng, eyeing it thoughtfully, before reaching out and running your fingers over the hardened outline of his cock through the fabric with purpose.

Neteyam hisses, and his hips actually lift off the floor in an attempt to follow your touch.

“God, you’re a hypocrite, aren’t you?” You breathe, fighting to keep your voice casual. “How can you judge your friends for fucking around with me when you’re this hard after just a backrub?”

“They’re not my friends.” Neteyam grunts, his jaw clenching as his head tilts back. His hips rock into your hand.

Your touch goes firmer, and then your hand slips under his loincloth. You’ve had plenty of sexual encounters with Na’vi men, but this is different.

This is Neteyam. This encounter feels like proving a point. A very sexually charged point.

His cock is silky smooth and hot to the touch, and you feel a little drunk as your fingers close around it. And damn, it feels big. All Na’vi cocks are big compared to your hands, but this… feels different. You were aroused anyway, you’ve been feeling pent up all damn week, but now that your hand is on his dick your nerves are fizzing up.

It’s a surprise when Neteyam’s big hand settles on your waist to tug you closer, and you feel your stomach swoop when he pulls you forward. You don’t release his cock even as he pulls you to settle over one of his thighs, your legs slotted in between his, and you can feel him harden even further beneath you.

You wonder absently if it's really you that's causing his very obvious arousal or if it's just a natural consequence of the massage; either way, when his hips flex up towards you, they press right in between your legs.

You shiver almost violently, the sensation of him pressing hot and hard against your core frying your nerves and wiping your thoughts clean. The part of your brain that had been screaming about what a bad idea this whole thing is has become muffled now, and your own hips jerk against his.

“You’re such an asshole,” You say, though your voice comes out reedy and breathless. “You of all people don’t have a right to talk shit about those guys just cause they’re into humans, especially when your cock is this hard, and especially considering where your dad came from–”

He lets out a soft, quiet noise as you move against him, and uses his grip on the back of your top to pull you tighter against him yet again. “Don’t talk about my father when you have my cock in your hand.”

It takes what feels like a monumental effort to wrench your hand away from him, and he lets out a wordless grunt of dissatisfaction as his hips twitch in an effort to follow your hand. It’s delightfully pathetic, and you feel your ego swell at the sheer sense of power that washes over you; it’s a rare feeling, especially when you’re faced with a big blue alien almost twice your size.

“You should apologise to Txetyo.” You sound like an out of breath idiot. “It’s not like you can judge him for being with a tawtute when you’re that hard from me just touching you.”

Neteyam just stares at you, his jaw clenching and his honey eyes dark as he takes several breaths through his nose. You’ve never seen him like this before; you’ve never seen any of the men you’ve been with like this before. It looks as though he’s holding onto a thin veneer of control, and you wonder if he’s angry with you, if you’ve perhaps pushed him too far.

“That was never the issue.” He says and fuck, his voice has gone so gravelly. “And don’t pretend that you’re not wet beneath those clothes of yours. I can smell it.”

Your thighs squeeze together as you swallow hard, struggling to maintain your aura of indifference and no doubt failing.

“That’s because of Txetyo.” You say, and it tastes like a lie on your tongue. “You interrupted us.”

Neteyam laughs quietly and humourlessly. His expression suggests that he doesn’t find anything about this conversation funny, and his hand is still splayed across your back. You’re so damn conscious of how big his palm is as it spreads across your spine. Why the hell hasn’t he let go of you yet?

“Ah, I see.” Neteyam murmurs. “You would have fucked him in my grandmother’s hut?”

Your mouth is so damn dry, and you swallow compulsively. “It’s not any of your business who I fuck.”

Neteyam’s smile is grim. “Txetyo would fuck his own shadow if he were nimble enough to catch it. You have terrible taste in men.”

You rear back. You’re surprised by how much that hurts. Living as a human on Pandora is lonely, and it’s not like you have people lining up outside the human outpost looking to spend time with you. If you want any sort of companionship or intimacy, you have to accept any attention that you can get. And sure, most of that attention comes from men that only want to get their dicks wet, or the experience of being with a tawtute, but it’s better than nothing at all.

“Well, we can’t all be the Olo’eyktan’s son.” You say, your voice stiff and cold. “We don’t all have countless suitors throwing themselves at our feet. Some of us have to accept attention from whoever’s interested.”

Neteyam’s expression shifts, an odd look appearing in his eyes, and your stomach swoops. You don’t think you could bear to see pity in his eyes, so you pull away from him, shaking his hands off.

“Your scratch is fine.” You say, your voice thin and a little thready. “You’re all treated.

“Hey–”

As you stumble to your feet, Neteyam reaches out as if to stop you. You dodge his hands, unable to look him in the eye.

Panic is starting to set in now; what had you been thinking, touching him like that just after he had chided you for flirting with Txetyo in the tsahìk’s hut? God, you feel like such an idiot. He must think you’re so pathetic.

Like a coward, you turn on your heel and flee out of the hut. You need air, you need to be out of the cool darkness of the hut, you need to be away from the overwhelming weight of Neteyam’s presence. Through the blood rushing in your ears you can distantly hear Neteyam call to you, but you’re too desperate to escape from the whole humiliating interaction to stop and listen.

You stagger out of the hut, squinting at the evening light; it seems blinding after spending all day in the dim musty air of Mo’at’s healing hut. You pat at your rumpled shirt and creased denim shorts, flustered and frenzied as you try to straighten yourself out.

“Tawtute?”

You jerk, gasping, and whirl to find that Txetyo is sitting on a log a few feet away from the hut, apparently waiting for you to finish up with Neteyam. You feel like you’re burning up from a mixture of mortification and confused arousal and you’re certain that Neteyam is about to follow you out.

“I– I have to go!” You blurt, already stepping back towards the forest.

Txetyo frowns, obviously bewildered, but he doesn’t stand. “Don’t you want to–”

You don’t wait for him to finish. You’re already fleeing, disappearing into the trees as you run the whole way home.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

It might be a little cowardly, but you avoid the village for days after that.

You stick to the outpost, watching Norm and Max and the other scientists work. You try not to die of boredom, and you try not to overthink and overthink and overthink.

But you have too much time on your hands as you slink around the outpost, and you can’t stop feeling guilty about abandoning your attempts to help Mo’at out in her healing hut.

You also can’t stop thinking about the shift of Neteyam’s muscles in the low dim light, or the silky hot feel of his cock in your hand, or the soft breathy grunts he had let out as his hips rocked. It feels like the experience has actually rewired your brain, as though you’ll never recover from it.

Growing up on Pandora as a human has been lonely. The only other human your age is Spider, who had become the closest thing you have to a brother – and you love him even when you feel like throttling him, but sometimes you just yearn for more.

You want companionship, you want understanding, you want romance, you want sexual intimacy. You don’t think it’s too much to ask for, and if you have to turn to big nine-feet-tall Na’vi warriors who just want to say they’ve had the experience of sleeping with a tawtute, then that’s… fine. Even if it’s only temporary.

Part of you is honestly relieved when Spider finally manages to force you out of the outpost and back to the village. It’s a relief to get back into the forest, to the village, to the life you’re used to. The outpost has nothing on the vibrancy of the village life, and you feel as though you can breathe for the first time in days upon stepping back into the village, even if it’s through your respirator mask.

There’s been a big hunt today, and the village is buzzing with excitement. You pass by several willowy Na’vi covered in celebratory paint, and follow the sound of the heavy thumping of drums.

The evening after a hunt is always a joyful affair, and you gradually start to relax throughout the night. You feast on collected fruit, hum along to some of the music, and sit comfortably with Spider all evening. At some point you’re joined by Lo’ak, which you don’t mind either; Lo’ak has always been the kind of outcast that fits comfortably between the edges of you and Spider. Those edges have smoothed out as he got older, but he’s always been a cool guy to hang out with.

When he’s not joining Spider in ganging up on you, that is.

“So– so wait, wait, let me get this straight,” Lo’ak is waving his hands as though trying to settle down a group of rowdy children, even though it’s just the three of you present. “Neteyam walked in on you fucking again, but this time it was in grandmother’s hut–”

You’re sat around the large campfire in the middle of the village, tucked away from the main celebrations. Part of you is flourishing being in this environment again, but another part is withering at this damn conversation. You glance around nervously, hoping that no casual observers can hear you guys talking.

“Txetyo only had his hand up my top!” You hiss hastily. “We weren’t actually– and we would have gone somewhere else when it came down to it!”

“Txetyo is a dickhead.” Spider complains, leaning heavily on your side. He’s so frequently dwarfed by the Na’vi that it’s easy to forget that he’s over six-feet-tall and corded with muscle, and his bulk is heavy.

Irritatingly, Lo’ak leans into you the same way on the other side, though he’s more careful about leaning his full weight, and you end up crushed in between the two idiots.

“He isn’t.” You protest, pushing back against their weight. “He’s–”

“Nah, he is.” Lo’ak interrupts before you can defend him. “Total skxawng. You know he keeps telling people he’s the best archer in the clan? And yet he didn’t manage to catch anything in today’s hunt–”

You try not to wince at that. It’s impossible to miss that while Txetyo may not have been successful in the hunt today, someone else is being lauded for their skill and success.

Neteyam has been given a place of honour by the fire next to his parents, and the careful swirls of paint all over his body can’t hide the proud glow on his face. Under the smooth veneer of Neteyam’s smiles and cheer was the jagged edge of his inferiority complex, his need to always be better and to be liked. Funnily enough, his insecurity has always been your favourite part of him. It felt real in a way his cockiness didn’t.

You can’t stop yourself from glancing over. Night has already fallen and there are many couples dancing, the flickering firelight sending wild shadows across the gathering. But even in the unsteady light, you catch the intense golden stare of Neteyam watching you from across the circle.

You hastily turn your face away, pressing your lips together tight as you try to pretend like you hadn’t been looking in the first place.

“–He’s better than Art’alak, at least.” Spider says, continuing on the conversation that you had checked out of for a few moments. “That guy was awful. I mean, what did you even see in him?”

You roll your eyes, sinking further back into the stupidly heavy weight of Spider and Lo’ak in a silly attempt to hide yourself from view. It almost definitely doesn’t work, and you can still feel the weight of Neteyam’s stare on you, even as you fixedly ignore him.

“Pretty sure we don’t want the answer to that one, man.” Lo’ak says, snickering.

His eyes glance around, before flashing across the gathering as though he can also feel Neteyam’s attention. You frown as Lo’ak hastily removes his arm from around your shoulders, even leaning away from you a little.

“I’m allowed to want company.” You say loftily, though you’re certain that your voice is a little shaky.

It feels like your skin is heating up under Neteyam’s eyes, and you feel yourself getting shifty. Why won’t he just look away?

Lo’ak obviously notices his brother’s attention, because he leans a little closer so he can speak quietly in your ear.

“My brother can be unbearable,” Lo’ak murmurs, “But he’s not a bad guy.”

“Gross.” You wrinkle your nose playfully at Lo’ak’s rare display of sincerity about his brother and he hisses at you, swiping at your head.

It’s all in jest, which is obvious given how gentle his hands are with you, and you laugh and lean away.

“I just– I don’t understand him.” You sigh once your laughter has tapered off. “I mean, I get that he doesn’t approve of the whole interspecies thing, but it’s like he goes out of his way to catch me in embarrassing situations. If he finds it gross, why seek it out?”

Lo’ak purses his lips and avoids your eyes. “Uh…”

“Anytime he shows up, the guys I’m with go running.” You continue, your brows knitting into a frown. “I mean, it’s getting ridiculous. Why can’t he just mind his own business?”

Lo’ak’s eyes dart over your head, and you just know that he and Spider are sharing a look together.

“He doesn’t– I wouldn’t say he disapproves of interspecies relationships–” Lo’ak says, but he fumbles a little in his attempt to get his words out and darts another panicked glance across the fire towards where Neteyam is sitting with their father.

You just scoff, crossing your arms defensively across your chest. You feel a little vulnerable talking about this; usually, you’re content to suffer through the embarrassment of having your sex partners pretending they don’t know you in public alone, but since Neteyam had started walking in on you, now he knows that they’re doing it too.

“He scolds them like they’re children whenever he walks in on us, talking about how they’re neglecting their duties and all that,” You mutter, scowling. “But it’s obviously because he’s annoyed that his friends are messing around with a Sky Person.”

Spider shifts at your side, making an odd sound beneath his breath. You turn to look at him, but he’s staring rather fixedly at a tree branch overhead. Lo’ak clears his throat, similarly looking off to the side to avoid your eyes.

You frown. It feels as though they’re hiding something from you, and the thought is unsettling.

“What?” You demand, sitting forward and staring intently at them.

“Nothing,” Lo’ak protests, but his voice is a little too high-pitched to be believable. “Uh… It’s just… well, I really don’t think that Neteyam has a problem with interspecies relationships. Our dad came from the Sky, too!”

You think that Lo’ak probably intended for that to be reassuring, but instead you find your stomach sinking miserably.

“Oh.” You say, pursing your lips. “So it’s me that he has a problem with.”

“No!” Lo’ak protests, but then he pauses. His mouth opens and closes as he struggles to form a response under the weight of your narrowed eyes.

When no explanation comes, you end up just averting your gaze and looking towards the fire. It’s stupid, but you’re not sure what you were even expecting. Neteyam has always been perfect in his personal life, his duties, his relationships within the clan, his looks. It’s hardly a surprise that he’s developed a distaste for you – you know what Sky People represent to the Na’vi, after all.

Across the gathering, two Na’vi girls are shooting looks at Spider. You almost think they’re looking at him in disgust, but when Spider catches their eye and smiles back they both look away giggling.

You click your tongue and roll your eyes. You wonder when exactly it was that the Na’vi your age stopped seeing you as human nuisances that haunt the village, and started instead seeing you as people with possible sexual appeal.

“That is just unfair.” You intone dully. “You get Na’vi girls flirting with you from across the campfire, and I get Na’vi boys fucking me in corners and then pretending they don’t know me. And that’s only if I don’t get rudely interrupted by Lo’ak’s asshole brother.”

“Men.” Lo’ak says in a disparaging tone that sounds as though it’s meant to be sympathetic, but it falls short as he’s biting his tongue to keep from laughing. “Maybe you just have bad taste.”

Spider laughs too, though he’s still looking in the Na’vi girls’ direction. There’s a pink flush in his cheeks, and his smile looks distinctly pleased.

“Yeah,” You grumble, sinking down where you’re sitting. “I’m hearing that a lot.”

The conversation moves on then, Lo’ak nudging at Spider over your head and grinning as he recounts the highlights from the hunt earlier that day, but you’re distracted. You hardly even hear a word they say, too busy staring broodingly into the fire.

Luckily, neither Lo’ak nor Spider mind your silence. They’re perfectly content to fill the quiet themselves, chatting and babbling and joking over your head.

You’re drifting, lost in your own thoughts until you hear Lo’ak and Spider go quiet. You glance over to them, only to realise why they’ve stopped talking – Neteyam is walking your way.

You stiffen, eyes narrowing behind your respirator mask as he comes to a stop before you all. He greets his brother and Spider briefly, distractedly, before his big amber eyes settle on you.

All you can do is wait, tensed. You have no idea what he’s going to do or say, but if he says something about that day in the healing hut you might actually scream.

But Neteyam doesn’t immediately say anything. He crouches in front of you, his gaze as measured and even as ever, and proffers a wrapped utumauti leaf to you. For a moment, you just stare at it as though it’s something venomous.

“A portion of yerik meat,” Neteyam clarifies, not even blinking as he watches your face. “From the hunt earlier.”

Oh. Now you see. He’s just showing off, like he always does. He’s always doing things like this, just to show off his skills, his prowess, how strong he is. It’s irritating; everyone already knows how great he is, and he’s already practically revered throughout the village. You don’t know why he keeps trying to flaunt his greatness in front of you, other than the fact that he must love to annoy you.

Spider nudges you in the side, and you reach out to take the wrapped meat from Neteyam’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you.” You say, a little tersely.

Neteyam just nods, his tail coiling. He watches your face for another moment, and all the unspoken tension between you from the other day seems to swell to unbearable heights. His ears twitch, and then he glances over his shoulder to where his parents are sitting by the fire. They’re watching, which makes you feel itchy and embarrassed.

“I should return.” He says simply, before standing and nodding at you, then Spider and Lo’ak, before straightening up and walking back to his place by Jake, his tail swaying low.

There’s a long moment of silence, where you can feel Lo’ak and Spider staring at you.

“Don’t.” You say sharply when you see Lo’ak’s mouth open, and he closes it with a click.

This feels embarrassing, as though Neteyam is mocking you somehow. It’s not the first time he’s given you food, always making sure to let you know he caught it himself. It’s like he has a damn pathological need to show off his skills, to try and prove himself, to prove that he’s better than anyone else. It’s aggravating, even more so now that Lo’ak has made it clear that it’s you that Neteyam has a problem with.

Eventually, Spider and Lo’ak return to their conversation and you pull back, sitting silently between them. You pull your mask off for a brief moment to nibble at the meat. You’re a little irritated to admit that it’s delicious, and you sit back to lean into Spider’s side as you chew at it sullenly.

You’ve just begun to wonder if this night is a total bust altogether when you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. You raise your head, surprised to see the sight of Txetyo stepping towards you.

At your side, Spider and Lo’ak share a look before sitting up straighter.

“Tawtute,” Txetyo greets, nodding his head at you. He casts a single cautious look towards Lo’ak, before focusing on you properly.

He is keeping his voice purposely low so that no one else can hear, but you can’t bring yourself to care. This is the most public setting that any man has ever actually approached you in, and you can feel your expression brightening already.

“Hello.” You murmur, smiling sweetly at him. The last time you had seen him had been right after you had fled the tsahik’s hut, right after you had touched Neteyam– and no, you are not thinking about that right now.

“I would like to speak with you.” Txetyo murmurs, his voice low as he darts one more quick look between Lo’ak and Spider before settling on you again.

You brighten. You’re under no illusions about what Txetyo wants to ‘speak’ about, and you can safely assume that there will be little to no talking involved at all.

Yes. A distraction. This is exactly what you need.

“Sure.” You say, your lips curving up in a coy smile as you unfold yourself from where you’ve been sitting between Spider and Lo’ak.

“Uh–” Lo’ak starts to say, but you’re already beginning to step away with Txetyo, who’s beginning to lead you away from the gathering.

Maybe it’s a little impulsive, but you’re feeling reckless tonight. You can still feel Neteyam’s eyes boring into your back as you follow Txetyo towards the treeline, but you determinedly refuse to look. The celebration should be enough of a distraction to keep him busy and away from you for a while so you can finally get laid.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You resist the urge to check the time on your battered old wristwatch as Txetyo slides down your body and repositions himself between your legs.

It feels like such a long time since you’ve hooked up successfully with anyone, with no interruptions, which is probably why you’ve been so affected by all-things-Neteyam recently. You were hoping that this encounter with Txetyo would restore you back to normal, to get rid of all the thoughts of Neteyam’s intense golden stare and pretty face and silken hot cock that are absolutely haunting you.

Yet, so far, the night’s been less than stellar. Txetyo had led you away from the celebrations, and you had to try hard to pretend like you don’t see him looking around compulsively to make sure that no one else has seen him leave with you. You had followed him into the trees, and had brightened up when he took your hand as soon as you were out of sight of the gathering.

Before you knew it, you were on your back on the forest floor with your panties around your ankles and your dress rucked up around your waist as Txetyo loomed over you on his hands and knees.

Txetyo is handsome, and he’s big and strong and he’s not opposed to hooking up with a Sky Person, but he’s not much for conversation and it seems like he’s only really got one thing on his mind. Apparently, your list of criteria might be a little lacking, because Txetyo’s also proving to be woefully bad at sex.

He spreads your legs and buries his face there. You blink at the canopy of glowing foliage overhead, grimacing. Honestly, you’d think that anything tongue-adjacent would feel good against a clit, but that’s just not true. Txetyo seems to have an affinity for moving his tongue rapidly and aimlessly against you, resulting in nothing better than the occasional teasing — definitely by accident.

You shift a little, try to angle your hips so that Txetyo’s mouth is over your clit, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on what you’re attempting to do at all. He just moves his mouth away, jabbing his tongue sort of aimlessly at your left labia.

“Could you– a bit higher–” You say, trying to shift again.

Txetyo’s mouth is rather sloppy against your pussy, but you’re not actually sure what he’s doing down there. He seems to be missing every possible nerve ending that might feel good, which is actually a little bit impressive.

You sigh, and just resign yourself to getting bad head. You let your head thunk back against the mossy forest floor, your legs hanging off of Txetyo’s big shoulders as he hunches between your thighs.

It’s almost imperceptible, but the quiet ‘crack’ of a twig breaking underfoot has your head snapping around in a panic.

Though night has fallen, it’s never truly dark on Pandora. The moss beneath you glows faintly, illuminating the outline of your body as you lay there with Txetyo getting busy between your legs. The trees and foliage around you are similarly phosphorescent, your surroundings all lit up in luminous vibrance.

Pandora’s bioluminescence is beautiful; it also means that you can see Neteyam’s figure all dimly lit up as he leans against the trunk of a tree about fifteen feet away.

Neteyam’s head is cocked to the side as he very obviously takes in the scene before him, his head turning to scan up and down your body. His little luminous freckles are lit up and glowing, and it’s impossible to miss the fact that his golden eyes are fixed on you, so intense that it’s almost breathtaking.

You almost scream. You mean to, but instead you moan, completely by accident, and Txetyo groans between your legs.

You don’t know what to do. You’re gaping at Neteyam, who seems all too content to just watch you, meanwhile Txetyo is totally oblivious. He’s still doing nothing right, but something deep inside you pulses.

Moments later, much to your horror, Neteyam takes a small, tentative step forward. He stands only a few feet away, behind Txetyo and in plain view of you.

Go away! You mouth, staring at him in disbelief.

Neteyam scratches his head, feigning confusion, and then he takes another step forward.

He doesn’t say anything. Why isn’t he saying anything? It’s not the first time he’s walked in on you in a situation like this, but usually by this point he’s started making snarky comments, which in turn makes the men you’re with scramble away from you like you’re diseased.

Your dress is pushed up clumsily around your stomach, exposing your pussy. There’s a man between your legs. You’re in the process of getting fucked and Neteyam is watching, goddammit.

It definitely, absolutely is not hot. And yet… your hips twitch, and your breath hitches.

“That feel good?” Txetyo asks, peering up to grin at you. Your attention is dragged back to him and you blink, dazed.

“Yeah,” You lie. “So good.”

“Mm,” Txetyo hums in satisfaction, slipping two fingers into you. “Good.”

You grunt at the stretch of his thick fingers, breathing deep. His mouth returns, his fingers jabbing kind of aimlessly, but it hardly matters. Your attention is locked on Neteyam, and it’s somehow making Txetyo’s useless attempts feel somewhat invigorating.

“Oh god,” You gasp. You’re so confused. Part of you is still waiting for Neteyam to speak up, to make a sound or to clear his throat. Something. But he just watches on, his pretty eyes dark.

“Mm, so pretty,” Txetyo murmurs from between your legs, still blissfully unaware of your onlooker. “Can I fuck you now, tawtute?”

Despite yourself, you find your eyes darting over to Neteyam. The stupid fucker is still looking, and when he sees that you’ve looked at him his lips quirk. Your whole body flushes deep with heat, and you try to pretend like you aren’t taking direction from him; usually, his appearance would have stopped this entire encounter dead in its tracks. But you’re continuing, and the fact is, you feel as though you need his permission or something.

“Y-yes.” You say.

Neteyam purses his lips, and raises his non-existent brows. Fuck, what does that mean?

“How would you like me to–”

“Just like this.” You blurt. It feels, for some reason, as though you can’t risk Txetyo noticing Neteyam. This is the only way you can see Neteyam without Txetyo noticing him, anyway.

Txetyo shuffles up your body, his bulk dwarfing you. There’s a moment’s struggle as he’s lining himself up against your pussy, groaning low as he pushes into you. The stretch is intense, and a little painful, as always; you never quite get used to the bone-deep satisfaction of that achey biting stretch in your cunt.

The stretch is satisfying, like it always is, but it’s not necessarily special. Txetyo is not as evenly proportioned as he looks, and his cock is smaller than other Na’vi you’ve been with. That is, mostly, a good thing; it means he can fuck you without lube, which you usually have to use to accommodate the shocking stretch of taking a Na’vi cock. It also means that you adjust to having him inside you a little quicker, your muscles easing gradually around the intrusion of his dick.

What is special (or at least unusual) is the fact that Neteyam is still watching. You stare back, maintaining a bewilderingly intense sort of eye contact. Txetyo groans as your cunt clenches down on him, and he lowers his face to bury it in your shoulder; like this, your view of Neteyam is completely unimpeded.

“Ah! You’re so tight,” Txetyo hisses. “This is okay?”

“Yes,” You gasp. “You can move.”

And by God, does Txetyo move. He jerks in and out of you with a complete lack of coordination. You bounce and flop against the luminescent bed of moss beneath you, occasionally throwing a hand over your head to try and anchor yourself to a tree root behind you, just to stay put for a second or two.

Neteyam is undoubtedly amused. He has a hand pressed to his mouth, and the skin around his eyes is scrunched up with mirth. At one point, when Txetyo starts humping into you so desperately that you grunt, wincing, Neteyam doubles over himself completely, laughing silently.

“Oh, oh,” Txetyo groans. “Tawtute, I am going to– you are so tight, so hot inside–"

You smack one of Txetyo’s hands away from where he’d been rubbing determinedly at the side of your vulva. You rub at your clit instead in fast, harsh circles, staring at Neteyam desperately. You don’t actually know what you’re looking for, or what you want him to do… but you want him to do something.

Neteyam reaches down to palm the bulge at the front of his tewng that you hadn’t even noticed until now, and you moan. You rub yourself even faster, attempting to angle your hips in any way that could increase your pleasure from Txetyo. It seems impossible, but you manage to catch one or two good strokes.

“Please, please—!” You gasp, eyes wide as you maintain eye contact with Neteyam over the wide bulk of Txetyo’s shoulders.

Neyeyam moans. It’s low, barely noticeable under Txetyo’s own strangled sounds, but you hear it clearly. Your body seizes up and then you’re coming, gasping high and quick as you drink Neteyam in with your eyes, frozen under Neteyam’s gaze in turn.

“Unnng,” Txetyo grunts as he comes too, thrusting into you through the last shocks of his orgasm.

You barely even blink, your eyes fixed wide open as you tremble, your breaths shaky. Neteyam doesn’t break eye contact either, watching you so damn closely that it feels bizarrely as though he’s watching a show you’re putting on, as though all of this is for him. The worst part is you feel as though you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t.

Neteyam silently turns and slips away through the foliage, and Txetyo flops onto the mossy ground beside you moments later, breathing heavily.

“That was good.” Txetyo sighs, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You don’t reply, still staring at the place Neteyam had disappeared into the trees. You’re partly unable to believe what just happened and partly turned on beyond belief, just knowing it did.

What the fuck?

#on holidays atm and I’ve been stressing about how to post this 😭 I’ll have part 2 posted in a day or two!#neteyam #neteyam x human #neteyam x reader #avatar x reader #na'vi x human #na’vi x reader #awow #avatar way of water #neteyam fic #fics

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billyloomiswhore4 · 1 year

Text

Dark Habits | Billy and Stu x Reader

Warnings: petnames, (babe by stu, and baby by billy) Smut, consensual but not very safe, cheating, knife play, consensual cutting of the reader by the boys, fear play, oral (fem receiving), oral (m receiving). P in V, pussy slapping

anonymous asked:

I really liked your POV from the last ask, and I got inspired with a smut request from it if you're interested

Reader is Billy and Stu's childhood friend. She was there when they started having this sick fascination with gore and death and even "hardcore" interest when puberty hit them, making her end up being their "friends with benefits ", she isn't aware of their plan so when they got Tatum and Sydney as girlfriends she expected them to stop thier secret relationship but they still came back to her even though she knows it's bad to cheat, but they come back to her not only because they are obsessed with her and love her but also because she is the only woman who can handle thier Dark sexual habits, the fear with billy and the inflicting pain with stu.

a/n: im still struggling to figure out whats wrong with me but i felt bad for not posting, so i found this is my drafts and rushed to finish it up so im sorry if the end sucks its also not edited to again im sorry.

You’ve been their friend since before you can remember. You were there for everything. When their obsession with horror movies grew stronger. When your play fights got a little too rough, and they seemed to enjoy your fighting a little too much.

The first instance you could remember was when you were eleven years old. Billy and Stu were twelve. You had found a movie in your older siblings room. You can’t remember the title now but what you do remember was when it started, and got right off into the murder. It was intense, it looked a little too real but stu still complained about how blood wasn’t really that color. He’d been hunting plenty of times with his dad, when he was home, and knew what blood and insides looked like.

Billy though, was a different story. He seemed entranced, and even licked his lips at a close up of the victims face as she was being murdered.

Stu was ecstatic that he found a good movie that he hadn’t seen. They both loved it, maybe a little too much and that’s probably why the memory stuck with you.

The memories only got more and more intense from that one. The next instance was when you were fourteen. You were in the living room of Stu’s house, Billy sitting on the couch, and you and Stu were wrestling on the floor. He eventually got you down, your hands pinned above your head. He was squeezing your wrists a little too tight, and you winced. He grinned at this, and squeezed tighter.

“Ow Stu that hurts,” You whined, attempting to kick him off you. Billy’s attention was now on you and Stu, and Stu’s grin only widened. When he squeezed even tighter, fear flashed across your face. Billy had a frown on his face, but his eyes shone with something you’d never seen before.

“Stu, seriously that hurts.” You were serious now, and he quickly snapped out of it, letting you go and helping you up off the ground.

That moment you knew something was off about your best friends. It freaked you out a bit, the way Stu smiled at your pained sounds and Billy’s eyes when he realized you were afraid.

That wasn’t the last incident. But as you grew older, and learned more about your sexual desires, you realized you weren’t like other people. When watching movies with Stu and Billy, you often found yourself watching intently as the killer would tease their victim with the knife, dragging it across their chest or arm just to see them squirm. You wondered what it would feel like, what it would be like to be so afraid and at someone's mercy.

You let it slip before you could even think.

“I wonder what that would be like.” You immediately grew red. Both Stu and Billy looked at you, staring intently.

“Wanna try it?” Stu asked all of the sudden. Billy smacked him on the shoulder.

“You can’t just ask that, fuckrag.” Billy seemed a bit angry at Stu for suggesting it.

“I mean..” You trailed off, eyes pointing towards the screen in front of you.

“Wait, you’d actually want to?” Billy was shocked. And you tried to subtly rub your thighs together. Stu’s hand suddenly met your thigh, and you jumped, not expecting him to notice your minuscule movements.

“I think she wants it, Billy.” Stu’s cheshire grin was wider than you’d ever seen it before, and his eyes met Billy’s. They exchanged looks and it was all history.

That night changed your life. You’d laid down in Stu’s bed, and he brandished a pocket knife from his pocket. He trailed it from your collarbone and down to your thigh. You tried to hide how hot the cold metal against your skin made you feel. When he cut your shirt off, you’d gasped. Billy stared at your face, watching your eyes change from fear, to excitement to fear again. God did he enjoy it.

That started something between the three of you. You were in a sort of “friends with benefits” situation, though you never really clarified anything. It was heaven while it lasted, but soon Billy got with Sidney, and Stu started dating Tatum. You assumed the situationship was over, but how wrong you were.

–

You're sitting on your bed, it must be around midnight. There’s a tapping against your window. You don’t normally lock it, because before Sidney and Tatum, they liked to sneak in through your window. It added a certain fear into the situation, you never knew when they planned to bust into your room and take you as they pleased.

When they started dating the girls, you started locking it, worried that anyone could take advantage of your unlocked window. You assume the tapping sound was just the wind, but it got quicker in succession. So you stand, and walk to the window, looking out. You’re met with a disheveled looking Stu, and a frustrated looking Billy. You unlock and slide open the window.

“What are you guys doing here!” You whisper-yell at them, your arm resting against the healing marks underneath your clothes. Stu shoves you aside and makes his way into your room, Billy follows.

“We wanted to see you, duh.” Stu grins at you and Billy smirks with a look you know all too well.

“No, no,” You pause, watching them. “You’re with Sidney and Tatum. We can’t.” You insist.

Billy puts a frustrated hand through his hair, and you look at him, realizing that he’s hard in his jeans.

“There’s this whole thing…” Stu trails off.

“What, Stu?”

“Well- I was with Tatum. And we were gettin- y’know.” He makes a gesture that tells you that they were fucking.

You raise an eyebrow, your chest tightening at the thought of him and Tatum together. “When- uh. We were doing it, all I could think about was you, and how you look underneath me with my knife to your chest.” Stu’s hands make contact with your throat, his thumb resting right on your pulse point. Your heart beats faster at his confession, and you're sure he can feel it.

“Oh,” Your eyes flutter closed, and you take a sharp inhale of breath.

“We want you, Baby,” Billy’s voice is pleading. “Just forget about the girls, just for tonight.”

“You’re the only one who understands us, who will take everything we give you and thank us for it.” Stu stops to take a deep breath. “We love you, more than anything..or anyone”

You give in allowing Stu’s lips to connect with your own. Billy moves, removing his shirt as Stu backs you up towards the bed. The back of your knees connect with it, and Stu pushes you to fall onto the softness. He gets out of the way, allowing Billy to crawl in between your legs.

HIs lips meet yours and his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. You don’t open, you know how much he likes it when you resist. His hand comes to your jaw, pressing his fingers in between the joints and your mouth opens. He slips his tongue inside, wrestling yours.

You don’t even notice as Stu pulls off his shirt, and pulls out the pocket knife he knows to keep in his pocket when he’s coming to see you.

Billy’s lips leave yours to grip the hem of your shirt and pull it up and over your head.The bandages across your hip come off next. Billy moves to pull off your pants and Stu straddles your thighs, pressing the knife against the skin of your other non-marked hip.

You hiss when he presses down, the knife cutting the skin of your hip. He groans when blood bubbles up to the surface, and he uses his thumb to smear it across the skin. He makes another one, quick but thin and leans down to lick it softly. Billy’s lips meet your neck, sucking harshly against the soft, supple skin.

Billy moves away from your neck and switches places with Stu. He quickly makes work of pulling down your underwear. Billy throws your legs over his shoulders and dives in, eating you out like it’s his last meal. He laps at your clit, his pointer finger going to your hole, and pushing inside you.

Suddenly, Stu is pressing the knife against your neck, and you quake in fear. Your thighs shake with stimulation as Billy looks at you through his lashes from between your thighs.

Stu shushes you when you open your mouth to speak, and trails the knife from your throat down between your breasts. He continues moving the knife down, and then he makes a particularly deep cut across your stomach.

It shocks you, he’s never done that before. Always in one spot so it’s easier to hide, and never that deep so it doesn’t scar as badly. This time, he’s trying to mark you, claim you as his. Because even if he has Tatum, he still wants you.

Billy stops completely, making you whine at the loss. He shimmies out of his pants and boxers, leaving him completely bare in front of you. He crawls between your legs, sitting back on his heels and pulling you against him. Your legs go over his hips, your cunt pressing against his hard cock.

Stu pulls off his pants and boxers as well, grabbing his cock and pressing it to your lips. You open up, allowing him to slip it in your mouth.

“Good girl..” he groans as his dick is wrapped in the warmth of your mouth. Billy gets jealous, as you’re staring into Stu’s eyes, seemingly forgetting about him. So he slams into you, making you moan around Stu’s cock.

“F-fuck,” Stu stutters, moaning as you work your tongue around him.

Billy pushes into you with quick, hard thrusts. You whine in pain as Stu’s fingers wrap in your hair, and he pulls on it, hard. Billy’s fingers slip down to play with your clit, before he pulls out completely, laying a quick smack against your cunt and then slipping back inside you. You moan in pain and pleasure, the sound vibrating against Stu’s cock.

He groans softly, shallowly thrusting into your mouth. He pulls out, with a pop sound. He strokes himself in front of your face for a moment, and then pushes back into your mouth.

Billy twitches inside you, rubbing your clit with his thumb. He thrust into you even harder, while you hollow your cheeks around Stu’s cock. Stu quickly falls apart, twitching inside your mouth and then releasing his spend. He grips your jaw, pulling out while Billy continues.

Stu pries open your jaw, and looks at the white substance as it trickles down your chin. He pushes your jaw shut.

“Swallow.” You obey, and then open your mouth to show him.

Billy falls apart quickly after, pulling out and cumming on your pussy.

They both fall on seperate sides of you, laying there. They pull you into their arms, and Stu closes his eyes.

Billy laughs, watching how quickly Stu falls back into the same old routine.

#billy loomis smut #scream 1996 smut #scream 1996 x reader #billy loomis x reader #billy x stu x reader #stu macher smut #stu macher x reader #billy loomis x female reader #billy loomis fanfiction #slashers x you

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polaroidpascal · 3 months

Text

paradise city || joel miller

AO3 || MASTERLIST || FREE PALESTINE

pairing : guitarist!joel x f!reader

summary : when you and your friends go out to a bar to see a local band gig, you can’t help but notice how the guitarist’s eyes somehow keep finding you in the crowd.

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, no outbreak AU, i imagine joel is in his early 40s, no age gap mentioned, mention of reader’s breakup, mentions of alcohol consumption, joel starts off a little shy but truly there ain’t nothing shy about this man, size kink (kinda?? a little bit??) oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected p in v sex, dom!joel, joel gets a little possessive (you’ll see what i mean…), praise kink, squirting, multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare ofc

fic playlist : https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0afpHjoOFylI01OTbV5jol (picture joel playing during the guitar solos in every single one of these songs 😁)

WC : 7.9k… (no one look at me. not a single soul.)

a/n : 100 FOLLOWER SPECIAL !! i apologize in advance for all the song lyrics i’ve scattered in this fic… i opted to make a playlist of the songs i think joel’s band would play but there were just too many good ones to pass up and i was losing it a little bit 🫠 also, shoutout to @joelsdagger for constantly yapping with me about this idea and letting me tease her about this absolute menace of a man and also @haileymorelikestupid for beta reading for me 🥹😭 it feels extremely fitting to post a joel fic on international women’s day where he fucks you so good, so i hope y’all enjoy !! <3

You and your friends have had a week.

Deciding you all needed a night to let loose and have fun together, your friend Erica found out about this place hosting a local rock cover band called Fetters Whiskey and thought it might be nice to come see them.

Earlier, you had all piled into the Uber and were headed out, a low girly chatter filling the car. The three in the back harped on about their spouses and all the little things that annoyed them.

“He left the dishes in the drying rack!” “She helped me clean a little too well and used all the cleaner, now we’re all out!”

The complaining did help them destress a bit.

You and Erica were in the second row captain’s chairs of the car, the three in the back doing their pregame de-stressing. “Makes you rethink the whole marriage fantasy, huh?” she jokes, looking over at you playing with the rings on your fingers.

You look up and breathe a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so,” you say with a weak smile.

“Well… have you had any luck finding anyone?” she asks sweetly, sincerely. Genuinely hoping someone has caught your eye.

You had a pretty nasty breakup a while ago, probably about eight months by now. You two had been dating for a while and the breakup honestly seemed to come out of nowhere, like some switch flipped one day and nothing was really the same. Your friends stuck by you through every up and down you had. You felt really lucky to have them.

“No. not yet,” you tell her.

“Well, maybe tonight’s your night,” she says with a friendly smile. “You deserve to unwind and let loose a little, y’know what I mean?” You breathe another laugh. “You do!” she exclaims, hitting your shoulder.

“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see,” you say, the rest of the car ride seeming to fly by, a part of you kinda hoping she’s right.

The bar is crowded.

You walk in, snaking the group between the crowd and making your way near the stage towards the back of the bar, men and women alike all brushing bodies the closer you get to the stage, drinks in hand, friends chattering away, everyone waiting for the show.

Two of your coworkers disappear to fetch everyone a drink while you and the others stake claim on a little area near the stage. A couple of guys are on the stage setting up the instruments and making sure everything is plugged in right, the lights dimmed enough to not really draw much attention to them. It’s not long before the others join them on stage and start playing. The girls return just in time, handing out the drinks as the music starts.

The band is pretty good (you’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re more than pleased with how good they sound). They play some fan favorites like Wanted Dead or Alive and I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll, and they mix in some random fun songs like Play That Funky Music.

The drummer is clearly in his own world, head moving at a velocity you would think could give him whiplash. And he’s absolutely killing it, hitting every beat with fervor. You can feel the strikes of the sticks on his drums in the center of your chest.

Another guy seems to be the swiss army knife musician: pretty good at almost everything, filling in wherever he’s needed depending on the song. One minute, he’s playing his keyboard and the next, he’s busting out a trumpet, and the next, he’s busting out a guitar. And no matter what he’s playing, he’s playing it with passion.

The lead singer clearly loves all of the attention he gets. He’s feeding off the crowd’s energy like a cat lounging in the sunlight, basking in every cheer and whistle and fist pumping in the air from the crowd. He practically lives at the edge of the stage, crouching down to sing with the girls but backing up to sing and dance with his bandmates too, bringing them in on some of the harmonies and tying the whole show together.

But by far the unsung hero of this group is the lead guitarist. He hides off to the corner, leg posted up on his amp with the body of his guitar resting slightly on his thigh. He looks down at the instrument carefully watching his fingers strum each cord perfectly, furrowing his brow in concentration during his solos and lifting his head up to the sky. He looks like he feels every note in his blood, expressing it through the expert strum of his fingertips on the strings. He doesn’t have a mic and the singer doesn’t make him sing alongside him very much, but you catch him mouthing all the words and getting into the singing as well.

He’s a particularly pretty man and your eyes linger on him more than the others, always finding their way back to him, and always during the more raunchy lines of the different songs…

Well, I am imagining // A dark lit place // Or your place on my place

I’ma paint his town red // Then paint his wife white

But I got both hands on the wheel while you got both hands on my gears // By now, no doubt we’re heading south // I guess nobody ever taught her not to speak with a full mouth

…but who can blame you when he has such a reserved, cool vibe. Plus, did you mention that he’s really pretty too?

And maybe it’s the couple of drinks getting to you more than you thought, or maybe you’re just crazy, but it seems like every time you look at him, he’s looking away from you. Like he’d been staring and you caught him. You swear he starts to look ever so slightly more flushed, but it’s practically impossible to see with the colored lights flooding the scene. No, you think, that’s crazy. You’re standing in a crowd of people, there’s no way he—

“Hey, I think the guy on lead guitar keeps checking you out!” Erica exclaims over the loud music and singing crowd.

You turn and look at her, eyebrows raised before you turn back to the stage. He does it again, averting his gaze the second he sees you look and you feel a flutter in your chest. He really is checking me out, huh?

You keep staring at him, waiting for him to look back in hopes that you’re looking away. When he lets his eyes wander back to you, you’re still staring. This time, though, he doesn’t look away. His eyes won’t let him now that you’ve caught his attention — like a fly in a spider web.

He turns his body ever so slightly, facing your direction more than anyone else as he plays the rest of the song. The lights focus on him, colorful spotlights of red and blue illuminating his face as he positively shreds his guitar solo. His fingers expertly tap dance across the neck of his guitar, his other hand working double time to strum on beat and hit every single note. You watch in a complete daze as he finishes, sealing off his musical escapade with the smuggest wink right to you.

He put on a show. All just for you.

Something stirs in your belly, a low heat kindling as the band continues to play. Their next song — god, their next song… — really puts the icing on the cake.

The jack of all trades band member busts out a sound board, the sampled sound of a snare drum filling the space, a warped, funky-sounding instrumental following.

You let me violate you // You let me desecrate you // You let me penetrate you // You let me complicate you

The guitarist shares a mic with the guy on the sound board, offering back-up vocals for the song. He’s getting a little bold now, you think.

I broke apart my insides // (Help me) I’ve got no soul to sell // (Help me) the only thing that works for me // Help me get away from myself

He’s locked eyes with you the whole time, changing the tides of who is winning this staring battle for dominance. Each second his gaze stays on you, you feel smaller and smaller, completely at his mercy. He backs away from the mic, preparing to play and licking his lips in a manner obviously made to make you even dizzier than you already are.

I wanna fuck you like an animal // I wanna feel you from the inside // I wanna fuck you like an animal // My whole existence is flawed // You get me closer to God

He glances back at you from his guitar, a smirk decorating his face before he turns to keep playing the song. You’re in a complete daze. He’s clearly won this battle, and you don’t even know what to do with yourself anymore.

You have to have this man.

Erica caught a some of his little show for you, watching him wink at you and the way your features fell to a focused stare at him. “Girl, get a room next time!” she teases and all you can do is smile back.

When the set is over, you and your friends walk back towards the bar, not wanting to leave just yet. You claim a few of the tiny standing tables, again gathered with Erica at one while the other girls try to cluster around another.

“So…” she starts, giving you a look of anticipation.

“So…?”

“What the hell was going on between you and that guitarist?” she asks, her tone of voice high with excitement.

You laugh, looking down and shrugging your shoulders. “I honestly have no idea,” you say, shaking your head and blushing a little thinking about his little performance. “I thought I was crazy until you said something.”

“Well, whatever it was, you should go for him!” she encourages.

“Please,” you scoff and laugh, “you’re ridiculous.”

“No, I’m serious! While you were having your little… whatever you were having, I was watching the whole band, and the other guys weren’t doing what he did. And he didn’t look at anyone else the way he looked at you.”

You stare at her, a blush creeping up on your cheeks and that small fire in your belly growing a little bigger, a little hotter.

Erica looks up over your shoulder, “Oh my gosh, there they are!”

As if on cue, the band walks through one of the back doors. Having just put away their instruments and whatever other equipment they brought. They saunter in, hair wet from the sweat of performing and lifting all their stuff back into their van. Trailing behind the rest is that damn guitarist. He scans the crowd before he sees you, his expression opening with a bit of an urgency as he quickly finds the bar to grab a beer.

You turn back to Erica, mouth dry and nervous. “Please, you have to go talk to him,” she practically begs.

“No, I- I can’t. I don’t even know what to say,” you plead. “I’m so out of practice.”

“Oh, quit it. I saw you looking at him first. You had him going before he got bold with you. You still have game, go get that man!” she says.

“I don’t know, Erica—” you start, but youre quickly caught off by a tap to your shoulder. You turn around and it’s him.

“Hi,” you say, desperately trying to hide the nerves threatening your vocal chords and smile genuinely at him.

“Hi there,” he says. God, his voice is so deep. You couldn’t hear it in all of its beauty before, but it has a bass to it that rumbles in your bones.

You stare blankly at him for a second before you finally pipe up, “Um, that was a good set you guys played.”

“Thank you,” he chuckles, looking down at his beer and leaning against the edge of the table.

Erica watches with wide eyes before announcing, “Well, I’m empty. I’m gonna go get a refill, okay?” She winks as she walks away leaving you and this mysterious guitarist alone together.

You turn your gaze back to him and fully take in his features now. His eyes have their own glow to them that persists even with the dim stage lights littered around this bar. His hair is patchy from sweat but still sits pretty. His strong features demand your eyes and you’re unable to look anywhere but him.

He extends his hand out to you, “Name’s Joel.”

“Hi, Joel,” you say, shaking his hand and telling him your name. He echoes it and it sounds beautiful off his tongue. “Listen, I--”

“Y’know, you’ve got one of those faces that stands out in a crowd, anyone ever told you that?”

You shake your head, “No, not necessarily.”

“Well trust me, we’ve played our share of shows and none of them had a pretty girl like you in the audience catchin’ my eye every two seconds.”

You blush, starting to gather your mind back from the sudden thrust into a conversation with who you think might be the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life now that you’ve had time to really study his features up close. “You’re no different yourself,” you offer.

“How so?”

“I’m just saying, you’d think the prettiest member would be the one front and center, not tucked in a corner by an amp.”

His eyes bounce back and forth between your own not breaking contact as he takes another sip of his beer. “I don’t want just anyone lookin’ my way, I guess. You gotta work to see this pretty face.”

“Pretty, indeed,” you agree, stepping ever so slightly closer to him. “You put on quite a show up there.”

He leans down just a bit, closing the gap between the two of you even more, “Well, I did have quite the eager audience, didn’t I?” he asks.

You stare at each other for a moment before Joel starts, never breaking eye contact, “Listen, I don’t really do this… but I also don’t get distracted like I did tonight…”

You inch closer to him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah… your friends bring you here?” he asks and you glance at the other table where Erica lingers around your other friends and they’re all looking your way, trying not to be obvious and failing miserably.

“No, we took an Uber.”

“Well, what do you say to savin’ that money you’d pay for an Uber and lettin’ me take you home instead?”

Am I really gonna do this?, you think. Call it a gut feeling or whatever you may want, but the way Joel is looking at you, the way he put on a show just for you, how he spotted you in the crowd to strike up a conversation… Erica did say I need to unwind and let loose…

You grin back at him, “Whose home are we talking about?” you ask.

“I think you know, darlin’,” his tone drops low and deep.

A shiver runs up your spine, that ever-growing fire in your belly burning hotter and hotter. “Come on,” he says, taking your hand in his, making it look miniscule in comparison, and walks you towards the back door he came through earlier. You glance back to the bar, the girls still watching and Erica flashing you a smile and a thumb’s up.

Joel leads you to his truck, opening the passenger door for you. You see the backseat loaded with what must be his personal equipment before his door creaks open and he sits inside, the whole truck bobbing from the sheer size of this man.

He pulls you closer across the bench seat until your legs are touching, his hand snaking around your waist as you relax against his figure and his hands trace your sides.

“I meant what I said, y’know. That you stand out in a crowd.”

You turn to look at him as he quickly glances at you and you slowly bring your arms up, one landing behind his neck while the other cups his face. You slowly, softly, tenderly kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck leaving open mouth kisses all over. He tilts his head to the side just a little, humming at the feeling and settling his hand right at the swell of your hip, pulling you even closer into his side and squeezing just a bit.

The drive isn’t long at all. He pulls into a parking spot lining the side of the road and once the car is safely in park, he grabs your face with both hands, kissing you deeply. You hum into his mouth, not expecting the sudden movement, and melt into his lips. His soft, warm lips. Your hands trace his body, the two of you unable to get where you want to be from sitting in this truck.

You pull away from him. “Take me inside.”

He immediately leaves the truck urging you to hop out on his side, offering a hand to help you out but not letting go even typing the code for his apartment and after you walk through the door.

You giggle as he pulls you up the stairs of his complex, the two of you itching to have your hands all over one another. You reach the top and he twirls you around in his grip, grabbing you with one hand by the hip and the other cradling the back of your head. He kisses you with an insatiable hunger, like his life absolutely depends on it, as he backs you up until you’re pinned to the door with his entire body pressed against you.

He fumbles with his keys for the lock to his apartment door, lips locked onto you, eyes closed, lost in the soft sweetness of your lips. He snakes a hand behind the curve of your back to brace you as the door swings open and he pushes you inside.

Your hands tangle in his hair grabbing the soft, damp strands unable to pull him any closer but wanting every inch of him in your mouth, on your lips, practically in your skin. You bite his lower lip making him moan a little into your mouth and your hands reach around to his face, wanting to stay lost in the ocean of his tongue and cheeks forever.

He pulls you back and you whine, already missing the warmth and taste of his tongue, but your disappointment is short lived. “God, darlin’… Need to have you.” he says, voice low and completely feral as he grabs you under the swell of your ass and you jump into his embrace. Your hands wander back up to his hair, pulling and grabbing as he trails his kisses down your chin, your jaw, your neck, soft sounds escaping his lips with every tug and whimper you give him.

His legs mindlessly take him to his bedroom, knowing the pathway instinctively. His mouth leaves your body for just a moment when plops you down at the edge of the bed, but he’s right back on you in an instant, reaching down to the hem of your top. You lift your arms for him to pull it off and he removes it in one fluid motion. He moves his hands to the clasp of your bra next. “This okay?”

Your chest aches with these little moments of tender sweetness from him and you nod, letting him remove your bra and he does so with skill, not fumbling for even a second as he tosses it to the floor.

His eyes immediately dart down, taking you in. He’s all but drooling, his gaze burning hot against your skin. He sinks to his knees taking one tit in his mouth and sucking on your nipple. Your hands immediately run through his hair holding him onto you and humming at the feel of his mouth on you. His other hand grabs your other tit, massaging it and thumbing your growing bud before redirecting his mouth to the other side too.

His hands drop to your sides and run up along your ribcage trailing towards your back, closing you in and burying his face into your neck peppering kisses and licks and nips there.

“I gotta have you, baby…” he mutters into your neck. “Lay back on my pillows up there.”

You do as you’re told, lounging against his pillows and the headboard of the bed as he pulls his shirt off over his head and crawls up to meet you, hooking his hands in the belt loops of your jeans. He looks up, his gaze silently asking for permission and you nod. He pulls them down along with your panties in one smooth motion.

You didn’t think about how worked up you had gotten until your hot core, slick with your arousal, meets the cool air of the room sending a chill across your skin. You watch as Joel’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, subconsciously licking his lips and softly grunting at the thought of diving in.

You open your legs wider, inviting him in and he settles between your legs, his arms hooking under your thighs locking you right where he wants you, all spread and open for him.

He immediately gets to work, unable to hold back anymore and expertly licks through your folds. His warm, wet tongue feels amazing on you as it dances across every nerve ending down there, each one sending fireworks across your skin. You whine and lean back, lifting your hips up to meet his mouth and squirming under his face.

His hands gently rub your thighs while he drinks you down, his nose occasionally hitting your clit making you whine. He draws flattened circles with his tongue, the surface area hitting you just right.

“Yes… fuck yes, that feels so good…” you moan.

He moans back, unwilling to leave you for even a moment and he keeps going. One hand falls from your thigh and you keep yourself open for him as best as you can when you feel his thick, calloused fingers teasing your entrance. He slides his middle finger in easily, so he adds his ring finger too, curling up and finding the softest parts of you. But God, are his fingers huge.

Your walls constrict squeezing his fingers and you leak more slick all over his palm. His other fingers flay across your lips and ass, gripping you slightly and he’s got you locked down.

His tongue continues at your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, the tips curling up and stroking you perfectly.

“Right there, Joel… right there… don’t stop… please, don’t stop…” You feel yourself getting closer and closer, the flame burning in your belly all night erupting into a wildfire and igniting every inch of your skin. You feel a tightness start to grow in your belly, inching down your insides as he keeps going, and going, and going, never letting up and reveling in each twitch of your body.

You look up and see him lying flat, his hips subconsciously moving against his boxers and jeans and sheets, getting himself off just from your taste. Finally, he opens his eyes, dark with lust and locks his gaze with you with one especially deep push and curl of his fingers and another wink. That fucking wink.

“Fuck… fuck…!” It sends you over the edge. The coil snaps and a warm flood fills your body spilling out onto Joel’s hand and into his waiting mouth. He grunts and whines, his tongue never stopping, not even for a second, as he drinks every ounce of your slick getting drunk on your juices.

He only pulls away when you pull him off by his hair, a single line if your arousal still connecting him to you and a groan leaving his lips as he lets you go. You fall back onto the pillow, legs collapsing from their own weight and twitching from your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Joel sits up licking his palm and bringing his fingers up to your mouth, jaw slacked and panting. Your mouth closes around his fingers and he groans, “That’s it, good girl,” he coos and you hum around his digits.

When you fully come back down to Earth, you can’t help but chuckle in the afterglow of your orgasm. Joel rests on his heels gently stroking your knees and you cover your eyes with your forearm, one big sigh leaving your lips. “I guess I should have expected a guitar player to have some skilled fingers,” you joke and Joel chuckles. “That was so fucking good.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not done with you just yet, pretty girl,” Joel teases, holding out his hand to help you sit up. You do and he meets you with a sweet kiss, his hands cupping almost all of your face as he kisses you sweetly.

When he pulls away and you open your eyes, you notice another amp sitting in the corner of the room. This one looks old, unused, and the cable management could use some work, to say the least.

Joel follows your eyeline. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“That’s a lot of cables for a little speaker like that,” you say, following the tangled mess of wires scattered on the floor. “Why don’t you use that one?”

“Jus’ got old. Bought a new one and I didnt need it anymore.”

A depraved idea pops in your head and the question leaves your lips before you can even fully think it through. “Those wires… how strong do you think they are?”

Joel looks back at your face, eyebrow cocked up slightly, “What d'ya mean?”

Your bashfulness catches up quick, a shy blush pricking your cheeks. “I mean… just the outside looks braided, almost… it kinda looks like… I don’t know, kinda like a rope…”

His face softens, a look of intrigue spreading across his gaze. “Go on,” he says, his voice dropping impossibly low, dripping with sultry tease.

You look up through your lashes feeling more vulnerable that you have to ask specifically (he seems to love it, though). “Well… I guess, how well do you think they’d hold a knot…?”

He bites back a smirk but can’t quite hide his excitement. “Kinky…” he says with a little nod. “I like it.”

He rises from the bed but he doesn’t turn to grab the wires. Instead, he reaches for his belt, the buckle clinking against itself. “But you gotta earn it first, sweet girl.” He pulls his belt out of the loops of his jeans and tosses it to the side.

He pauses a second before reaching for the button and zipper, enough time for you to crawl to the foot of the bed and rest your hands on his. You slowly move them away and take over, undoing his button and slowly zipping his pants apart.

You reach under his groin cupping his covered balls in your hand and he hums. He barely fits in your palm and you salivate at what could be beneath those boxers of his. You look up at him with another gentle squeeze before pulling both down, his cock springing out and up against his lower tummy as he steps out of his pants, the tip already red and leaking.

Your eyes widen when you really take in his size and you salivate. You wrap your hand around him and very slowly pump his length, getting a feel for his size and weight and staring at him the whole time.

He looks down at you, eyes still dark and mouth slightly open. “Go ‘head, baby. Kiss it.”

You feel a flutter in your belly again already and you do as he says, kissing the slit before taking the whole head into your mouth and circling your tongue around it. His eyes roll back and he lifts his head up to the ceiling with a groan, his hand tangling in the hair at the back of your head.

You slowly take him inch by inch making him slick with your spit and using your hand to pump whatever you cant reach. Your other hand gently squeezes his balls and you feel his grip on your hair tighten a bit.

“That’s it, baby… Mouth feels so good f’me…” He starts to slowly push you down his length, taking him deeper and deeper and being careful not to get ahead of himself.

But then you moan around his length sending lightning up his spine and it feels so fucking good… A guttural groan booms from his chest and he starts to slip, pushing you a little too far a little too fast and you gag, pulling off until it just rests on your bottom lip, spit gathering at his tip and spilling over the corners of your mouth.

Tears prick the sides of your eyes and his hand reaches down to wipe them away. “Shit— I’m sorry… are you alright?”

You cough and catch your breath, something new and hot burning through your veins. Something about the way he lost all control… “It’s okay, I’m okay,” you say when you pull yourself together a little bit. You wipe the corners of your mouth and reach up to slowly pump his length again. “Let me try again.”

“You sure, darlin’?”

“I’m sure,” you say, looking up through your tear-soaked lashes, a small smile ghosting your lips as you nod.

He nods back and you take him in your mouth again, closing your eyes and breathing through it, trying to focus on taking as much of him down your throat as you can.

His hands find the back of your head again, not pushing anymore but tangling through your hair as you work.

He looks down and sees your eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration and taking him so well. He drops a hand back down to your jaw, “Eyes on me, gorgeous.”

You carefully open your eyes to look up at him and when you do, his brows furrow with desperation, unable to look away from you as you bob up and down his length, hands once again pumping the length you can’t reach and massaging his balls.

“Shit, baby… that’s it…” he moans, watching the way your cheeks hollow and lips flush red from taking him. He’s twitching in your mouth and you think you’ve got him, flattening your tongue when he touches the back of your throat and swirling up his length as you pull back.

His abs start to tighten and you taste the slightly salty precum leaking from his tip. You work up the nerve to suppress your gag reflex as best you can, taking a few deep breathes before pushing yourself all the way down, taking his cock up to the hilt.

You stay there, letting your protesting throat constrict around him and he whines, his hand in your hair tightening and making you moan, another bolt of lightning taking over his entire being. His cock jumps in your throat and you think he’s a goner for sure—

He pulls you off his length completely and you gasp for air while he catches his breath too. “Nuh uh, baby. It can’t be over yet,” he says breathlessly.

You pout up at him, your doe eyes almost black from how blown your pupils are.

“Get back on the bed,” he demands.

So you do, rising a little wobbly from your knees and crawling back up onto the bed. Joel walks to the corner of the room and unplugs some of the cords plugged into the old amp.

He digs around in his nightstand and pulls out a condom before walking back over to the bed where you’re kneeling on the mattress. He sees you eyeing the little packet pinched between his fingers. “What’s th’ matter?”

You look at him, a blush forming on your face. “Oh, I…” Your mouth goes dry and you clear your throat. “…um, you don’t— I mean, I’m on the pill so, um… If you don’t wanna…” you ramble, trying to find your words but failing in your shyness.

He smiles smugly, tossing the condom to the side. “’S okay. I hear you loud and clear.”

You take a relieved breath and watch him stand there as he starts separating the wires. He twirls his finger in the air and you turn your body to face away from him.

“Gimme your hands, darling,” he says, firmly but gently.

You obey, reaching your hands behind your back. His giant hand easily fits both in one grip and he wraps one cable around your wrists.

You can’t help but smile to yourself, facing away from Joel so he can’t see, but you’re sure it’s audibly obvious when you ask “So this must be where the band name came from then, hm?” as he ties a comfortable knot around your wrists.

“What d’ya mean?”

“Fetters. Like restraints. Usually they’re on the ankles but I guess it’s the same principle.”

He breathes a laugh. “I mean, I didn’t help with the name all that much, but I guess ya’ really do learn somethin’ new every day,” he says just as he tightens the loose, but still restrictive, knot around your wrists.

You shimmy in them a little, surprised at how well they hold together. His hands are still there, rubbing over the covering of the cords and brushing against the warmth of your skin.

“These look real pretty on you, y’know,” he mutters from behind you.

You chuckle and ask, “You tell all the groupies that?”

He grabs your chin to face him, eyes scanning over your face for a second and planting a kiss to your lips before a positively devious smirk spreads across his face. Before you know it, he puts his hand on your back gently pushing down so your chest hits the bed.

“No, I don’t,” he says and you hear his footsteps fade. You sit there, face pressed against the mattress and ass in the air, desperately trying to crane your neck to see where in the world he’s going leaving you like this, all out in the open and exposed.

He treads back into the room and climbs back onto the bed right behind you, calves brushing up against the inside of your own as he grabs your hips to straighten them.

“I don’t tell the groupies nothin’,” he starts. “Usually jus’ ask if they want an autograph.”

The unmistakable click of a Sharpie cap rings in your ears and you feel the cold tip of the pen dragging along the skin right below the small of your back. You gasp, surprised at the unexpected feeling, completely shocked at the sheer audacity of this man, and you can’t help the butterflies it gives you, the way you mewl so quietly at the thought of him marking you with his name — his signature, no less — in such an intimate place.

You need to find a way to keep this man.

The pen trails off at the end and he recaps the marker, tossing it somewhere to the side before you feel his hands smoothing over your hips. He lets out a low toned, one-note whistle at you, staring at the dark ink branding your lower back. “Now, what a pretty view I have,” he says, a tantalizing, saccharine sweet tone lacing his words.

You can’t hold back the whimper that falls from your mouth at his teasing, his big warm hands rubbing big circles over each cheek.

He sees you clenching around nothing. “Want me to fuck you now, sweet girl?”

“Yes, please,” you whine, earning you a light tap on your ass.

He pulls on the cords and wraps an arm around your torso, bringing you up flush to his torso and reaching a hand to your mouth. “Gimme some help.”

You spit into his hand and he hums in content. “Atta girl,” he says, gently laying you back down and pumping his length with the wetness. You feel the tip of his cock rub against your folds and you squirm. He grabs your hip with his free hand as he lines himself up to notch right at your entrance. He slowly pushes just the tip in, the pressure making you moan.

“I gotcha, baby. Jus’ relax f’me,” he coos, pushing inch by inch into you letting you adjust to his size. Your walls twitch at the intrusion and your breathing gets heavier, soft sounds escaping your lips. Eventually, he’s up to the hilt and you swear you can feel him in your lungs. You subconsciously swirl your hips, the movement inside making you whine.

“Shit, baby… so fuckin’ tight…” Joel breathes, squeezing your hips and trying not to lose his cool too quickly. His cock bounces and he grunts, taking a minute before slowly pulling out of you as you whine at the loss. It’s short lived, though, because he’s immediately pushing back into you, the stretch and burn pulling a desperate groan from your throat.

“Fuck yeah, baby. You like how that feels?” he moans, picking up the pace slightly with each thrust.

“Yes— fuck, feels so good…” you moan. The way his cock drags along your walls makes your belly burn hot. His grip on your hips tight and threatening to bruise if he squeezes any harder, but you couldn’t care less. Just another way for him to mark you as his.

“Squeezin’ my cock so good… she’s achin’, baby…” He’s very talkative, you think and decide to play into it.

“She’s all yours, Joel. Pussy belongs to you,” you say as you squeeze him again, the pressure in your belly growing with each gentle kiss to your cervix that his tip gives you.

You feel his pace falter for a second, his grip tightening at that. “Yeah? Say it again. Who’s she belong to?” he says, pounding into you now, unable to keep control of his pace anymore.

You whine loudly with one of his thrusts when he drags up a bit hitting something new inside of you, something your ex surely hadn’t ever found before. Something you definitely had on your own but never this deep…

“Theeere it is,” he coos, pressing your torso down some more to get the angle just right and he’s hitting that soft, spongy part of you with every snap of his hips. You can barely form the words to tell him how fucking good it feels, nonsense whimpers leaving your mouth instead.

“Answer me, baby… Belongs to who?” His pace doesn’t let up and you can’t get the words out. “C’mon, you can do it, gorgeous… tell me…” he insists, slowly rubbing his hand across his own signature that’s been staring back at him.

“Sh… fuck, oh my god… she belongs to you, Joel…”

“That’s my good girl,” he says, leaning down and planting kisses down your spine, snaking a hand around to your front and circling your clit.

You cry out in pleasure, all the sensations getting to be too much. A flood of wetness spills out with a twitch of your insides making Joel’s cock slippery, letting him push in and pull out easier than before. He picks up his pace again with ease, rapidly hurdling you towards the edge.

My good girl…

That one little word finally hits you after a minute.

My.

His unrelenting fingers on your clit… the way his tip hits your cervix with every snap of his hips… my good girl… it’s all too much. “Fuck… fuck… fuck, ‘mgonnacome…” you mumble in a high pitched whine.

“Fuck yes, baby… come all over my cock, that’s it… feels so fuckin’ good, darlin’…” he moans from behind you, the grip on your hips definitely bruising now as he keeps pounding into you. Your back arches and your whole body writhes as your walls squeeze him impossibly tight. Your vision blurs and you have no control over the downright pornographic sounds escaping your mouth. All you feel is warmth everywhere.

“Holy shit—” you hear Joel but he sounds far away, your head still spinning with pleasure. “Fuckin’ hell, baby…” When you feel like you can finally see again, you see a wet spot on the bed and your eyes go wide, quickly craning your head around as best you can and see Joel’s thighs soaked from you.

“Oh, shit— I-I’m sorry, oh my fucking god, I didn’t meant—” you stop mid sentence when Joel plows into you again bottoming out completely, your words trailing off into a wailing moan.

He drags out slowly but quickly regains his momentum. “Fuck, baby… Chokin’ my dick so good… So. Fucking. Hot,” he says, punctuating his words with the slap of his hips on your ass.

Your legs start to give out under you and it’s like Joel already knows you’re almost too gone to take anymore as he unties the knot at your wrists, your arms falling to the bed. He flips you over, managing to stay inside, and lays you on your back. Your hair lays messily on the pillow and Joel leans down to fix it, tracing his fingers along the side of your face and kissing you deeply.

When he pulls away, he stares at your fucked-out eyes, his own completely taken over by his pupils so much that you can barely tell what color they actually are anymore. “Baby, you gotta give me one more…” he begs.

You raise your eyebrows worriedly, unsure if you can actually take anymore. You whine at his ask and he gives you another quick kiss, resting his forehead against your own when he pulls away, your lips barely touching. He’s moving in and out of you at a snail’s pace, so close to his own orgasm that any extra movement would cause him to snap. “Please, baby, I know you can do it. Doin’ so good for me already, just one more…”

You nod weakly and stare through hooded eyes. “Thank you, angel,” he sighs, gently fucking into you a little quicker and peppering kisses at the corners of your mouth. Your hands trail up to his shoulders rubbing up and down on his soft skin. Forehead pressed to yours again, you feel him panting, small moans and whimpers filling your ears.

“Feel so good…” you use all your strength to whimper out, barely above a whisper. His eyes open, brows furrowed in desperation. You feel him twitching hard now, so close to his own orgasm but not wanting this to end.

“S’good, Joel… so big…” He whimpers at your words, his hips moving erratically, unpredictably. He’s close, you think. And it eggs you on.

“Want you to come for me… Please…”

“Yeah? You want it?” he breathes.

“Please…” you say again in a whimper, grabbing his face in your hands.

“Where, baby? Want it inside?”

“Yes, inside… please, please, please…” you beg.

“Come with me baby… wanna feel you squeezin’ me… fuck— c-can you do that?”

You whine and nod, having been teetering on the edge of overstimulation with another orgasm growing in your belly. You roll your hips slightly into him, the extra movement sending shivers down your spine.

“So close, baby, I can feel it… ‘s right there, she’s chokin’ me…” he grunts out, painfully holding back his own until you come undone under him again.

Which doesn’t take long, a flutter of your heart and one big wave of arousal covering you from head to toe making you see stars. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, unable to even make a sound as you come on his length all over again.

“Fuck… fuck… good girl, ‘m gonna come—”

Joel’s breathing quickens, becoming ragged and broken as he grunts and whines and spills inside of you. His lips press to your forehead suppressing his noises with kisses there as he empties himself inside of you, filling you up completely.

Your hands scrape his back at his shoulders, your senses all blurring into one another. Joel’s weight falls on top of you as he moves his kisses down from your forehead to your nose and finally to your lips, his tongue licking into you as you feel his cock finally stop twitching. He sits back to pull out of you watching as his cum leaks out of you. You whine at the loss feeling empty but still so full from him, shivering as you feel it dripping down your body.

Joel wipes his sweat-ridden brow and sighs with a goofy smile as he looks down at you. Your body is still jolting from your last orgasm. Any more and you would have been overstimulated beyond belief.

“Now that I definitely don’t do with the groupies, sweetheart,” he teases.

You give him a playful glare and chuckle at him. “What about all that autograph nonsense, then?”

“Well, you got the first of its kind. Never signed anyone there before.”

You blush and stretch a little, suddenly feeling that damp spot from earlier. You sit up in panic and sit back leaning against his pillows again. “Shit, Joel. I’m so sorry. That’s never happened before, I—”

“Stop,” he cuts you off. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. Sheets can be washed.”

“But I made a mess—”

“C’mere, baby,” he says, extending a hand out to you. You take it and he pulls you towards him, both of you on your knees facing each other as his arm snakes around your torso pulling you even closer into him. “‘M gonna get you cleaned up, ‘kay? Got a spare bedroom we can use anyway.”

You stare into his eyes, his words bouncing around in your head. We can use. “We?” you ask.

He scrunches his eyebrows, raising one at you. “What, you wanna run away already? Was it that bad?” he jokes.

“Oh, quit,” you say, playfully hitting his shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, standing up at the end of the bed and holding his arms out to you. “C’mon, pretty girl, how’s a warm bath sound, hm?”

“Sounds amazing, actually.” You grab his hands and stand up, taking a second to get your balance before following Joel to the bathroom.

When you’re all cleaned up, you walk into his living room wearing one of his t-shirts, a pair of his boxers, and some very oversized socks that he left in the bathroom for you to change into, towel drying the rest of your hair so it's not dripping everywhere. He sits on his couch, fresh pajamas on and dampened hair from the shower he took in the other smaller bathroom.

He taps the space next to him inviting you to sit, TV on and low, playing some random movie he found to fill the silence around him while waiting for you. You curl up into him, you warm from your bath and him warm from relaxing. He squeezes you close, planting a kiss to the top of your head.

Erica was right. You really did need this. Maybe it's stupid that you're growing so fond of this guy and you've known him for just a night, but there really is something about him. Something you can't quite explain...

You spend the rest of the night curled up next to Joel, your entire being content and you can only think one thing:

You’re not letting this one go easily. This one’s gonna be yours.

All yours.

a/n : thank y'all again so much for 100 followers, it means so much seriously 💜🫶🥹 and thank you for reading this fic that absolutely got away from me in the end, this idea tortured me for weeks and hopefully letting him out into the world will give me some peace finally 😭 but really, thank you guys so much and i hope everyone enjoys !!

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sanjisblackasswife · 1 year

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Zoro bodyworship 😼

“𝔾𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘”

Z𝕠𝕣𝕠 𝕩 F𝕖𝕞 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

Black Fem Reader in Mind

A/N: ….I never done this. Hope u enjoy🧍🏾‍♀️ Also this was too long so Imma do Zoro RECEIVING body worship next post.

CW: VERY intimate sex, Soft!Zoro, Kissing, Tongue bath, Shy!Zoro, Mentions of Scars on the Reader, Oral

𝙶𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐

Zoro never realizes he how much he appreciates your body until he is alone with you.

A man such as him that isn’t really into PDA always holds back his urges until it’s just the both of you together.

He has no issue with giving your body the love and care it solely deserves.

He’s a nervous reck when he is more intimate with you, it’s always more intense and it ends up overwhelming the both of you.

His movements so slow and gentle you almost feel as if you need to tell him to get rougher,

but he wont. He can’t. Time like this, after a rough battle, or even just at random he feels the need to love every single blemish of you.

“Zo…” A breathless moan falls on his ears, his kisses have feathered from you lips, all the way down to your ankle, and he haven’t stopped yet.

Zoro interchanges from kissing to small suckles, which always causes him to hold you down by your hips to keep you still. As the rouge man that he is, he can always know how to be so delicate with you under him.

His eyes are closed as relaxed, so at peace swirling his tongue on your bare breast , you look down and see his head cocked, his pretty golden earrings resting on his cheeks, Zoro truly was a beautiful man.

You felt his thumb caress your hips, slowly pulling off your thong, as he does your nipple slips off his lips, making you frown just a little , already missing his touch. Of course this goes unnoticed by the swordsman.

He smirks down at your bare body, his gaze almost making your want to cover yourself just so he can look away, but you felt frozen, his build is so intimidating upclose and over you. It didn’t matter if you were 5’2” or 5’10”, Zoro knew how to make you feel small and you wasnt sure if that’s what you loved or hated about him.

Your hand reach up to his sharp jawline, pulling him down for just one more moment where his lips are on yours (before they’re on your other ones). His arms, as strong as they are falter and resist from holding himself up when he is against your touch. He stays on his elbows, tounges wrapping against each other, and you always biting his bottom lip just to hear his groaning before a simple kiss of appreciation turns into a sloppy wet passionate make out session.

The spit line that connects you both, finally breaks as Zoro rises up to catch his breath, still peppering you in small kisses on your curled lips.

He looks down at you, eyes almost eating you whole before he dwells to kissing and massaging your stretch marks you complain about having, the scars you’ve earned through tough battles, and every other blemish you’ve grown to have.

You may hate them, but Zoro loved each one as he looked and searched all over you to appreciate.

Zoro wasn’t very talkative during sex, his way of appreciating your entire body is just letting him have free access to do what he wants to you, maybe it was his shyness, maybe it was because he didn’t want to say the wrong thing and ruin the moment, but times like these you don’t mind his quietness, only small groans and hums of appreciation when he slides his tongue down from your neck to your slit,

but if you were to ask him why he doesn’t say much he would just tell you that he loves to hear you more than himself.

“Zo…” You purr with every buck of the hip, Zoro’s head and mouth follows the movements of your needy body asking for more of his licks and sucks.

As you reach that blissful high of cumming on his tongue, you try pushing him away from your sensitive place, but alas he was stronger, staying stubbornly still against your cunt to lick that and your inner thighs clean.

Giving your clit a kiss, ignoring the pains of his own cock twitching against your skin, he wanted to be inside you so badly, he needed to be one with you, you seen the furrow in his brows when he hissed as you grabbed his cock, not breaking eye contact stroking it subtly,

You guide him inside you so slowly just to hear the slutty wet noises, you moan out his name. Zoro’s face immediately turns red hearing you, feeling you, seeing you all like this it was too much, he lets out an exasperated “Fuck.” finally feeling your tight warm walls squeeze him in.

Slowly his hips rock against you, his eye meets your soft tired gaze as your breast bounce to the rhythm of his thrust, “Need you.” Was all he could mutter out before kissing you again, his body weight on top of you causing your legs to immediately lock him in as he picks up your lower half to pick up the pace.

It was all so much for you both, you felt his torso scar rubbing against your soft skin, the stitches felt painfully good you held Zoro by the nape with both arms wrapped around him moaning into his ear which only riled him up more to deeper thrust.

The bed rocks, skin is slapping against one another, his grunts, your whimpers—it was all a sight to see.

And yet none of that compares to the moment when Zoro travels his lips up to your hear to whisper “I love you.”

#one piece #TimikosZoro #black reader #one piece headcanons #one piece x female reader #zoro smut #zoro imagine #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x female reader #zoro #op zoro #roronoa zoro #one piece smut #one piece x black!reader

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multificimagines · 11 months

Text

This is an ask I got that’s really old, but I can’t quite locate it in my drafts, so I’ll post it like this.

Arcana Twilight boys as dads/parenting HCs

Disclaimer: I am not a parent myself and have little to no interest in becoming one.

Spica

•Spica is a bit harsh with his kids, but only because he sees so much potential in them and has high expectations of them as a result. He only wants to push them to be the best they can be, and sometimes does more harm than good in the process.

• The rules in Spica’s parenting are rigid, he’s not afraid to use (non-physical) discipline when needed. That said, he’s also very fair in how he enforces these rules and how he treats his children overall —he clearly has no favorites, and although he isn’t always the most affectionate in ways that children would understand, there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that he adores his children.

Arcturus

•He’s a little surprised himself how well he settles into the domesticity of parenting, but no one else is. Arcturus loves kids, and is very affectionate with his lover, and is possibly the most likely to be a stable, caring partner out of all the boys.

•His kids are grossed out by how affectionate he and his partner are, and he always answers their disgust by cooing at his partner more and kissing them, laughing alongside his partner as the kids continue to complain.

•You wouldn’t expect it, but Arcturus is also rather strict about the rules, although he’s much more flexible and willing to bend them than Spica is, and much softer with his kids than Spica as well. Discipline is a last resort, because he’d much rather try to reason with his kids or use a reward system to motivate them than enforce the rules through punishment.

•Absolutely hates when his kids go through that, “We’re too cool to even hold our parents’ hands anymore” phase. He’s just so affectionate with his family himself, so it makes him a little sad to hear them say they don’t want his attention, or that they don’t need him :(

Alpheratz

•His kids want for nothing. He’s been accused more than once of spoiling them, but well, why shouldn’t he? He loves to see them so happy, and sometimes it feels like the only way he knows how to make them smile. He’s always done the same with his partner.

•He’s much more laid-back about his parenting, and is the complete other end of the spectrum from Spica when it comes to how strict he is with his children. He gives his kids a lot more freedom and far less expectations, offering guidance when they ask it of him or when he feels they really need it. He feels like this more hands-off approach gives them freedom to grow and become their own person, while still ensuring he’s there for them when he’s needed or wanted.

Pollux

•He never really stops being terrified of his role as a parent. He always feels like he’s doing everything wrong, like he’s not good enough to be a father. But honestly? He’s so sweet with his kids. When he’s able to forget his insecurities and live in the moment, he’s a doting father who gets along well with his children.

•He sometimes sneaks sweets to his kids behind his partner’s back. The scolding he receives when they find out is absolutely worth it.

•Pollux is the type of parent who just kind of takes things one day at a time. He’s not great at making decisions about dealing with their kids and their potential bad behaviors without his partner’s input, because he’s too uncertain of his own judgement. As such, while some of the others have clear approaches to parenting, Pollux’s is going to depend heavily on his partner, and how they approach things.

Vega

•Vega is very protective of his kids (as well as his partner). He’s still dealing with the trauma of losing the Summoner in the way that he did, and nothing terrifies him more than the thought of his new, happy life being ripped out from under him.

•He’s so weak for his kids, just as much as he is for his partner. He struggles to put his foot down when they plead with him for things they want. It’s even worse if the child more resembles his partner. All it takes is well-times puppy dog eyes and he simply cannot tell them no.

•Despite this, Vega actually struggles with the emotional aspect of parenting. He’s never been very good at expressing how he feels in any way, and so he can come across to anyone, including his kids, as quite cold and detached. He’s not trying to be—like I said, he loves his family so much—but he’s a naturally more quiet, reserved person, and this combined with his fear of losing his family at times makes it more difficult for him to connect with his kids. It certainly doesn’t help that he’s not a very openly emotional person to begin with.

Sirius

•Will lie to his kids without missing a beat, either out of necessity or for harmless fun. Is there a Santa Claus? Well of course. What happened to that toy that annoys the hell out of him and his partner? Goodness, he has no idea. Where do babies come from? Hm, you should ask your other parent about that one, they can explain it better.

•The best bedtime reader for the kids. He’ll do voices, use magic to make little shows of the stories, and never ever admit to his partner how much he gets into his storytelling role. But he does, he loves it.

•Sirius is far more likely to use rewards or bribery to motivate his kids, and will bargain with them to get them to do what they’re supposed to—and he is not the slightest bit above taking advantage of the fact that they’re too young to recognize when they’re getting the short end of the stick.

•He has such a hard time keeping a straight face when his kids say or do something bad but funny. Number one most likely to burst out laughing if his two year old says “fuck.” Also number one most likely to teach his two year old to say “fuck.”

#arcana twilight #arcana twilight x reader #arcana twilight alpheratz #arcana twilight spica #arcana twilight arcturus #arcana twilight pollux #arcana twilight sirius #arcana twilight vega #everyone say thank u to my ADHD meds for making this post possible #or don’t. idk how this post will be received

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midnightsun-if · 7 months

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Sorry if this sounds rude, but I have some things I need to get off my chest. Frankly, the whole Scarlett situation kind of sucks, and the way you’re handling things is not exactly helping matters. I get you have a specific vision for her character, and as a fellow author I would never suggest you compromise that to appease a bunch of sexist, entitled fans, but you’ve given so much attention to her character that it honestly comes as no surprise that people wouldn’t respect her sexuality, as bad as that is to say.

I’ve personally sent numerous asks in the past, and you haven’t answered a single one, so either you’re intentionally ignoring them, or tumblr ate them. If it’s the later, then I’m sorry for accusing you. You’re obviously not under any obligation to answer asks you don’t want to, but I admit it does sting a bit to see Scarlet Ask #523759690 on my feed when I have yet to see a single one of mine. You may not think you have a favorite character, but from an outside perspective, you 100% do.

The amount of attention Scarlett receives compared to the rest of the cast (seriously, when was the last time Caden got an ask dedicated to them?) is truly astounding. Fans will naturally have their favorites, but as an author you should remain impartial… which you really haven’t. In fact, it seems like you actively encourage the Scarlett attention. It’s like you keep showing off a fancy car that only a few people can actually buy, then get upset when people complain they can’t buy the car as well.

Anyways, I’m sorry for this rant, but I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. I wish you luck on your writing journey, and hope you have a happy holiday (if you’re in a country that celebrates any upcoming holidays)!

I truly don’t know what to say other than the fact that I haven’t seen your asks and that I’m trying to avoid Scarlett asks when it specifically involves the discourse with her sexuality— which also may contribute to the possibility on why I haven’t seen them, if that’s what they involved— as I mentioned in my one-and-done post about it… I don’t want to keep this as a reoccurring theme on the blog as I know that many people will grow tired of it just like I have.

I answer Scarlett centric asks, barring when I answer scenario asks about the family and/or the ROs, mainly due to the fact that she’s the one people single out— if someone sends me an ask about C, or Blake, or anyone else, I’ll answer it… It just happens to be that Scarlett gets the most asks when it comes to that sort of thing— and those asks are typically much easier/faster to answer than the all-in-one asks— I’d be more than happy to answer singular asks about any number of my characters. And I have in the past when someone sends something in.

All I can truly say? If not being able to romance Scarlett is this big of an issue, and I truly am saying this as nicely as I can… I don’t think Midnight Sun is the right IF for you. I believe I know a couple more IFs with an Ice Queen type RO, or adjacent RO, that may suit you better if you’d like to me share them!

And, I’d just like to make this small point, I get upset, or am starting to, because it’s a point I’ve brought up over and over again— Scarlett isn’t a lesbian to create an inconvenience for the player… She’s a lesbian because it’s part of who she is. Sending me asks saying “I can change her” or “Give us Scarlett and the F!MCs Koda” (among other things) is absolutely abhorrent in the best case scenario. There are 7 other ROs for you to choose from— all of which offer their own unique routes and experiences within Midnight Sun.

Scarlett isn’t changing, I’m standing firm with this. I’m not going to ever change my mind about it— I’m sorry if that upsets anyone, but it’s not something I’m backing down on.

#midnight sun #asks #ro: scarlett voltaire #and if I haven’t answered your singular asks it’s either because I haven’t seen them #or I couldn’t figure out the correct response and decided to come back later…#and forgot 😅#which is my bad #as I typically try to answer them whenever they first arrive due to the fact that they’re relatively simple to answer #and I can send them out quickly (depending on what it is of course)#which means this will also be the last one I’ll be responding to #barring special circumstances

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bts-bay-bee · 2 years

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ruin you 4 (ruined)

Pairing: jeon jungkook x fem. reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 3309

Warnings: unedited work, they’re on a trip (me projecting because I want to be the one on a trip), loss of virginity (finally!), jungkook is a sweetheart, protected sex, oral (fem. receiving) fingering, making out, crying kink (it’s the last part of the story, I feel like I need to include this bc it was one of the prompts from the first part), light spit play, the “you want me? go ahead and have me” thing from his live,

A/N: this would’ve been done three days ago if my upstairs neighbour wasn’t being a dick. Also, this is unedited, so I’ll come back and edit it this weekend. If you see any mistakes, please read through them for the time being! Also also, this is my last fic on tumblr! You can check out my pinned post if you’re curious as to why I’m leaving. This is the 4th time ive tried posting this. i feel like im about to go insane. i think its the tag list??? ill start tagging people in like... an hour or so

“Taehyung’s car had to be towed, they’ll only be here tomorrow.” Jungkook complained, throwing his phone onto the coffee table after reading the text thread.

“Ugh, can’t believe I’m stuck with you for like twelve hours.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you dodged the decorative pillow being thrown in your general direction. “I was joking, you big baby.”

“And to think I was happy to have you alone for a while.” He sighed, pulling you down so that you were sprawled on top of him, unable to move in his tightening grip. There was once a time where Jungkook would flush red for days at the thought of just hugging you a second too long, but he was evidently long past that.

You indulged him for a while, letting him move you in whichever position he was most comfortable in, and you eventually ended up beneath him, both your necks craned to keep an eye on the random show he had put on.

Absentmindedly, you had begun scratching his scalp gently, the continuous and gentle motion quickly nudging him into an almost comatose state, only barely reacting when you spoke to him.

“Jungkook?” You mumbled, drowsiness getting the best of you, probably the only reason why you were so nonchalantly bringing this up randomly. “Can we talk?”

“What’s wrong?” He asked, cracking open a single eye to blearily focus on you.

“So, I’ve been thinking…” You responded, swallowing the uncertainty away. “I want you to take my virginity.”

“I know, we’ve spoken about this.” Jungkook frowned, his sleepiness ebbing away just as fast as it had come. “Why are you suddenly thinking about it?”

“I mean, like… I want you to take it now.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows almost shot up completely into his hairline as he choked on his own spit. Scrunching up your face, pushing away a spluttering Jungkook away from you, he was all but yelling at you.

“Y/N, you can’t just say things like that when I’m literally on top of you –”

“Well, that’s why I brought it up!” You defended, confused with his reaction. You take back what you said earlier; he evidently was not past his awkward phase. “It felt nice.”

“Yeah, it did, and now we won’t be able to cuddle because I’m going to keep thinking about sleeping with you!” He grumbled, moving to the other couch, as if he was trying to put a decent amount of distance between you.

With hurt evident on your face, you stared at him for a second in disbelief.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing!”

“It is when we’re in a town that we don’t know, with no condoms on hand! We don’t even know where the drug store is to get them! Or even Plan B!”

Pursing your lips, you scowled at him. “Is that the only reason why you won’t sleep with me? We have no condoms?”

“That, and I’m not letting you lose your virginity on a couch.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair, tugging on the ends in frustration. “I want you, but you deserve better than sofa sex.”

“Then let’s go to one of the rooms,” You whined, standing up and pulling his hands gently. He gritted his teeth, annoyance shining through his features.

“Are you not listening to me? We don’t have –”

“We do, just come with me.”

Ignoring his spluttering and (many) questions, you walked to the room you had claimed for the trip, rummaging through your hastily packed suitcase for the condoms you had purchased on a whim.

“So, you planned this?” Jungkook asked, eyes narrowing in faux suspicion. “Did Tae’s car really have to be towed or did you just tell them to stay away?”

“Your dick isn’t special enough to have a whole grand scheme, Jungkook.” You sighed exasperatedly while shoving your bag onto the floor. “Sorry to break the news to you.”

“You don’t know, you haven’t had it yet.” He teased, pulling you down onto the bed. Rolling your eyes, you wondered if he had always been this annoying; you also wondered why you were so helplessly endeared by his foolishness. You froze after you realised you had been grinning at his stupid teasing. Well, that, was problem for another day.

“Shut up and fuck me.” You grumbled, avoiding his eyes, unsure of how you would face him after being so brash.

He clicked his tongue, ignoring your sudden shyness to pull you over him, forcing you to spread your thighs far apart to straddle him.

“I promise I won’t be insufferable for the rest of tonight.” He promises, large hands running soothingly over your waist. You hummed in response (severely doubting how he could keep that promise, but whatever), your own hands resting on his shoulders, itching to cradle his face.

“Kiss?” Your request came out mumbled, probably inaudible, but he indulged you.

One of you sighed into the kiss, but with how close you were to one another, it was impossible to tell who it was. Regardless, you settled in, letting Jungkook’s tongue flit over yours, one of his hands coming up to your cheek to hold you closer.

Leaning back into the pillows, his grip on your cheek and waist forced you to move downwards with him, suddenly crowding him with your familiar, sweet-scented perfume. In fear of falling onto him (which may have probably killed any sort of atmosphere you had going on), you pressed your hand into his chest, feeling the hardness of his muscles move under your touch.

“You know, I still have a promise to make good on,” He mumbled onto your lips. You hummed in response, not in the slightest caring about whatever he was talking about. “Been thinking about eating you out ever since I saw you ride your pillow.”

Okay, maybe you should care about what he was talking about.

You tried not to think back to the last time you and Jungkook had fooled around, you really did. You should burn with shame or embarrassment whenever you think about that phone call, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to.

Remembering his words, guiding you through your first orgasm alone, promising you lewd things, you often found yourself wanting to phone him again, just for a repeat of that. But you always talk yourself out of it before you could even go to his contact on your phone.

Now, with Jungkook under you, his eyes wide, almost pleading to eat you out, you still couldn’t find it in yourself to feel shame.

“Okay.” You whispered, trying your hardest not to smile at his barely contained happiness. He quickly sat back up again, tossing his shirt off before tugging your own off.

“I know you want this, but if you want to stop, just tell me, okay?” Jungkook murmured, pulling off your pants gently. You nodded, too focused on watching him settle between your legs to give any other indication that you had heard him.

Quickly spreading your legs, he left a trail of soft, light kisses along your inner thighs, hooking his fingers in between your skin and underwear, gently dragging the material down the length of your legs.

“Pretty…” Jungkook mumbled, mouthing at your inner thigh, his sucking definitely leaving more than just goosebumps behind.

After leaving enough marks, he pushed your thighs up to his shoulders, his arms holding onto your propped up legs, forcing you to keep them open.

“Still good, sweetheart?” He asked, eyes flinting over to you, finally looking at the way you had attempted to control your breathing. Mercifully, he didn’t say anything about the speed in which your chest had been rising, nor did he say anything about the glazed-over look in your eye, but he gave you a small smile. “Stay with me, yeah? Can I go further?”

“Uh-huh.” You mumbled, reaching out to grab the bed sheets in an attempt to ground yourself. Noticing this, he couldn’t help but grin, reaching out his hand from under your thigh and holding it tightly. “I’m okay, Kook. Promise.”

He hummed, breath fanning over your over sensitised skin. Placing a kiss over your mound, Jungkook then used his free hand to spread apart your folds, his tongue immediately contacting your clit.

Barely acknowledging your gasp by lazily looking up at you, he quickly closed his eyes again, savouring the pure taste of you completely coating his tastebuds. Breathing out through his nose, the trickle of air made you even more sensitive than what you already were, your grip on his hand tightening.

Changing up again, he enveloped your clit with his lips, his plushness sucking gently enough to make you lay back against the pillows entirely. Jungkook let his spit dribble onto your exposed folds, letting it drip down to your fluttering core, before using his free hand to slowly push his spit in.

Trying his best to open you up slowly on a single finger, you appreciated his caution with you, his face showing just how serious he was about making sure you were okay. Even though you knew he wouldn’t tease you about anything you two had done tonight, you felt ashamed because you didn’t feel embarrassed by anything that had happened. You always thought this was going to be the most embarrassing moment of your life, but somehow, everything just felt right, and you–

“Are you done looking at me like I hung up the stars?”

God, even with his tongue on your clit and fingers shoved up you, he was still annoying.

“You’re such an asshole sometimes,” You complained, opting to look up at the ceiling instead of at him.

“Can this asshole add another finger?” He asked casually, the single finger in you never ceasing movement. Taking your silence as a yes, he easily slipped a second finger in, mouth going slack seeing how well you opened up for him. “Fuck, babe, see how well you’re opening up for me? Pretty pussy dripping all over my fingers.”

You let out an involuntary whimper, absolutely loving the words spilling out of his mouth. He looked up at you, face full of cockiness, his fingers moving much quicker now. Unhooking his arm around your thigh, he moved up the bed, face coming right above yours.

“Do you know how fucking wet you just got, baby?” He murmured into your ear. “Do you like it when I talk to you like this? Like being my good girl, being perfect for me?”

He had slipped in a third finger in the middle of his sentence, barely being acknowledged by you because you were already so far gone in your pleasure, his voice only making everything hotter.

“Kookie, don’t want to cum on your fingers.” You breathed, forcing yourself to open your eyes and look at him. He hummed non-committedly, ignoring your request and speeding up his fingers.

“Where do you want to cum then, pretty?” He cooed, enjoying seeing you struggle to keep your focus on him. “On my tongue? Want me to lick up every drop of you?”

“No!” You gasped, gripping his wrist so that he couldn’t fuck you open on his fingers anymore. “Cock please. Give it to me. Let me cum with you, please?”

Jungkook said nothing, opting to kiss you hard, his tongue immediately coming into your mouth and licking in every corner it could reach. He pulled his fingers out of you, blindly reaching across the bed to find the pack of condoms you had haphazardly pushed away.

“I wish I could’ve seen you buy these.” He panted, shoving off his pants after successfully locating the box. You grinned, admittedly tired, but ignoring your fatigue in favour of seeing him pull down his tight boxers, muscled thighs begging to have your hands over them. “You would’ve been so cute, all shy and embarrassed.”

“Can you not call me cute while I’m waiting to be fucked?” You scowled, watching him unroll the condom over his length. Much like the first time you had seen his length, you felt saliva pool in the corners of your mouth, forcing yourself to remember to swallow. “Can I suck your dick?”

“I thought you wanted to cum together?” He teased, propping open your legs again and gently wiping away stray strands of hair from your face. “I thought you were being romantic?”

“I mean… Later. After. You know.” You spluttered, your brain not working at all after being touched so tenderly. He raised his eyebrow, a fighting off the grin on his face but he said nothing.

He leaned up, the tip of his length catching against your entrance, and kissed you gently.

“Still okay, baby?” He whispered, right hand running up and down your side as you squirmed. “Ready for me?”

You nodded, bringing both your hands to the back of his head and tugging him down so that you could kiss him again. Feeling him slowly push into you, you had to remind yourself to breathe evenly, ignoring the dull ache of being properly stretched out, instead focusing on licking into Jungkook’s mouth.

It felt as his length was burning you into two, his girth something you had evidently overlooked. Nonetheless, you tightened your legs around his waist, keeping him in place for a while, letting you get used to the sensation of having him in you.

“Holy, fuck.” He breathed, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “Shit, you feel so warm and tight, and – fuck, Y/N.”

Giving an experimental thrust after a few moments, he all but preened after hearing a small moan come from your parted lips. Quickly moving his mouth over yours, he swallowed every sound you made, forcing himself to let you adjust to being properly filled before he moved anymore.

“Jungkook?” You mumbled, feeling boneless. He hummed, moving his kisses down to your jaw. “Want you.”

“You want me?” He chuckled, breathless. You nodded helplessly, trying to get him to move. “Go ahead and have me, baby. I’m yours.”

With that, his hands engulfed your own, holding them onto the bed as he begun properly thrusting into you, albeit small ones. Your breathing changed, somehow becoming even more ragged than they already were, but he took it in stride.

His thrusts didn’t hurt perse, but there was the slightest discomfort, which had been greatly offset by how he slowly pushed his pelvic bone against your clit; the added sensation enough for you to throw your head back against the pillow.

After a while of doing this, Jungkook snapped his head up to focus on your half-closed eyes, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Okay, baby?” He panted, muscles visibly tensing from holding himself back. “Can I go faster?”

Nodding frantically, he bit down a chuckle, knowing that laughing mid-thrust was probably the fastest way to get him from the bed to the floor. He was ripped out of his thought when you let out a high-pitched moan, forcing him to get harder.

“Always sound so pretty for me, hmm?” He mumbled, sweat starting to shine on his skin from his exertion. His skin kept hitting yours, not that you could complain, but the sounds in the room were absolutely filthy.

You knew if you looked down, you’d find yours and his thighs reflecting the tiniest bits of light from having your arousal everywhere, but you were too embarrassed to do so. Acknowledging how wet you were meant acknowledging how much you liked this side of Jungkook; asking him to be your first had definitely ruined you for other men. Your mind was getting foggier with each time he thrusted into you, but he’d ruined your expectations for everything in a partner. You already knew that no one would compare to him.

“Jungkook?” You mumbled, small moans escaping you with every thrust. He hummed, hips still smacking into yours, causing you to jolt up the bed. “Close…”

“Close to coming for me, sweetheart?” He groaned, sneaking his hand between your bodies, thumbing at your clit. Grinning when he felt you clench around him, you tried to blink away the tears you felt burning at the back of your eyes.

“Want to cum so bad,” You babbled, gasping when he started thrusting harder after seeing your eyes well up with tears. “Jungkook, please–”

“Keep your eyes open,” He panted, length twitching inside of you, seeing the first tear fall down your face. “You said you wanted to cum with me, right?”

Nodding quickly, hands running up his arms to anchor yourself, you felt yourself teeter on the edge, so close to coming that you felt almost delirious. He started thrusting deeper, pushing out more tears and inaudible moans out of you.

With sweat beading on his forehead, he panted out a couple curses. “Fuck, Y/N, cum for me. You look so pretty like this, all fucked out. Been so good for me, so perfect–”

You came in the middle of his sentence, your moaning and panting cutting him off as your core muscles clenched around him. Feeling boneless, you were so lost in your own high that you didn’t even realise he had tensed up above you, groaning your name straight into your ear, filling the condom with his cum.

After a few minutes, Jungkook sat up to face you, his chest still rising unevenly. “Are you feeling okay, baby?”

Nodding, you tried smiling at him, but you don’t know if your tiredness allowed it. “Feel amazing.” You mumbled, cradling his cheek with one hand.

“You look so pretty when you cry.” He said softly. You breathed out through your nose, laughter bubbling on your tongue. “I don’t know if it’s a fucked up thing to like, but I like knowing I give you so much pleasure that you don’t know how to handle it.”

“You’ve had a thing for me crying ever since you taught me how to go down on you,” You teased, pushing strands of his hair back. “Going down on you didn’t exactly give me the pleasure you’re talking about.”

“You just look really pretty after I’ve ruined you.” He poked back, kissing your fingertips. You tried not to roll your eyes at his cockiness, but you couldn’t help but agree with him.

“Yeah,” You sighed, thinking back to how your realised no one could ever match up to him. “You kind of have ruined me, you know? Where am I supposed to find a boyfriend who holds my hand while they eat me out? You’ve ruined me for everything after you.”

Jungkook paused, contemplating his next words carefully, before sighing, gathering the courage.

“I can be your boyfriend who holds your hand and eats you out,” he said softly, forcing himself to look at you. “I want to be your boyfriend. I want to hold your hand even when I’m not eating you out.”

You tried supressing your giddy grin, but obviously failed, after seeing Jungkook whine at you.

“Stop laughing at me while I still have my dick in you!”

“I’m not!” You defended, giggles skipping through your throat, unable to suppress your joy. “I’m just trying to think of a way to remind my boyfriend that he promised I could suck his–”

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts x reader smut

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potatocitytechnology · 8 months

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Trick or Treat? - L.TN

Kinktober Day 14

Crossdressing: Wearing clothing typical of the opposite sex.

INTRO: Halloween is your boyfriend, Ten's, favourite holiday of the year and everyone knows it. Yet, you somehow manage to convince him to let you both stay home this time. Maybe you'll give him a new reason to enjoy it so much...

GENRES: Smut

WARNINGS: Profanity/swearing, oral (F receiving), chocking/breath play, nipple play (receiving), cross dressing, ten has a slight mommy!kink, switch!femreader, switch!ten, overall explicit content - DO NOT ENGAGE WITH THIS POST IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE, PLEASE!

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

AUTHORS NOTE: this is a reuse of the only kinktober writing i did last year but i think it's really cool and gives me a day off (=_="). anyways underneath i've also linked to yesterday's post (day 13) because the tags are playing up (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ). tumblr has been a bit bad like that for me at the moment, so if you really want to see my writing you can follow me or go to my account (or kinktober m.list) to see writing that you've missed! Anyways, enjoy xox

Harvest in the Air - K.DY & L.TY (day 13)

It’s that time of year. The time where everyone (mostly children) dresses up in cute, sometimes scary outfits and come knocking door to door in hopes of acquiring enough candy to keep them satisfied until next October.

You and Ten made it a tradition to go trick or treating ever since your first holiday that you spent together and years later, although still a young couple, you’re starting to wonder whether the parents in your area are becoming concerned with your habit. You’ve been telling Ten for the last two years that maybe you should stop and just start staying in and watching a couple of horror movies, eating sweets that you actually bought instead of continuing to steal other adults’. But he was always so against it, complaining it was the only way he could stay young.

However, this year you had managed to convince him that you two could do exactly that. Stay in and enjoy each other's company. He was reluctant and grovelled for weeks before the date, but here you stand in your bedroom placing a small parcel with a bright orange bow, neatly on the bed. You thought it might be a nice idea to give him a gift as he had given up the holiday he so much loved.

When Ten gets home you’re sitting in the living room watching one of the mild children’s horror movies that are usually on until about 9pm, before the real ones are rolled out. He looks deflated and you immediately feel guilty as he shoots you a smile before walking into your shared bedroom, probably readying for a shower.

As he leaves your sight you wait one, two, maybe 30 seconds before you hear an excited sound and Ten comes rushing out to you with the parcel in his hands. A large grin replaces the small smile on his face only there a minute prior and your lips turn up as a result.

“Is this what I think it is?” He asks lightly skipping from one foot to the other. You only shrug your shoulders with a look of faint innocence on your face. “It depends what you think it is.”

Your vague statement does nothing to deter him before he eagerly asks, “Is it a costume?” You laugh at his hopeful expression and nod your head. “So we’re going trick or treating!” He exclaims in happiness and you internally coo at your boyfriend and his cute antics.

You once again let a sort of laugh escape from between your lips and shake your head, no. “You might not want to go out in public in that costume, baby.” His expression falls and he looks down at the object in his hands in confusion before looking up at you with eyes narrowed and a smirk on his face.

“Is this a sexy costume?” He asks with a knowing tint in his voice as he waggles his eyebrows suggestively. You can’t help the snort you let out at his antics before nodding your head. “Open it.” You say quietly, ultimately hoping he would end up liking it. Ten was a very adventurous lover, always down to try new things as long as you both had a good time. And this was very new for you both.

He sits down beside you and nudges you playfully with his shoulder before pulling the ribbon of the bow. When it falls he is left to unwrap the parcel and he does so quite carefully, making sure to not damage anything inside of it.

His expression is immediately one of confusion again as he pulls out the outfit. A short, skimpy looking dress is the first and largest item that he examines and you see as the gears turn in his head. He looks at you with darker eyes, “Is this a dress?”

You smile, your pearly teeth a show of your excitement as you nod humming a short ‘yes’. The dress is black and sexy, one you think you’ll very much enjoy peeling off him. It flows out at the hips which you thought would be ideal for easy access and it’s adorned with white and orange details. He nods, a blank expression on his face as he pulls out the next two items. A pair of black pumps and a cute little headband with the words ‘Mommy’s Good Boy’ written across the band. You wait with a nervous feeling skipping through your chest as you try to take in his reaction. You see his throat bobble slightly as he nods again, seemingly in thought.

The last items he pulls from your little present are the thin, black and white fishnet stockings that you had folded up neatly and placed with care at the bottom, as well as a little black choker with a bell on it. With him still not having said a word you become used to the feeling of rejection jolting through your veins. You would be ok if he said he didn’t want to try them, you wouldn’t care but you desperately wanted him to like what you had picked for him.

He places the stockings in his lap with the other items before turning towards you. You couldn’t see fully before while he was almost pointed away from you, but you see it now. His expression is low and sultry and his eyes seem to hold a dim lust that attracts you towards him. “Am I dressing up as Mommy’s good boy tonight?” He asks, his voice laced with pure seduction and your mouth parts slightly as you nod.

He only smiles before leaning forward and pecking you on the lips teasingly as he stands, presumably heading to the bedroom to put on your present. When he leaves you sigh out a breath of relief at the fact he obviously found your idea sexy and wanted to at least give it a go. Over the next fifteen or so minutes, you’re left to simmer in your own pool of lust as you become increasingly agitated and impatient.

When Ten finally emerges into the living room, he is initially shadowed by the dim light of the hallway before he steps closer and you can see him in all of his beautiful glory. The short, black dress sits exactly where you thought it would, about mid thigh and it makes you almost drool looking at the way it hugs his lean upper body before flowing out at the hips.

The cute little headband sits amongst his longer dark hair with most of it pushed back under it, save for a few strands that lay delicately over his forehead. The choker catches your eye as it hangs delicately around his neck, the little bell jingling softly everytime he moves.

He watches with dark eyes as you examine him and when your eyes track lower, he sees the way you visibly suck in a breath. The heels that you bought lift his entire body up an inch or two (meaning he’s now even more taller than you) and accentuate his legs and hips in a way that makes you lick your lips.

But what catches your attention the most are the way his toned legs look wrapped in the fine material of the stockings. The tiny holes in the fishnets let you slightly see his pale skin through the fabric and the way they tie the whole outfit together makes him look so delicious, you start to feel hungry for him.

Once he feels he’s been standing there long enough for you to take in his appearance, he moves slowly towards you. The faint clicking of his heels on the hardwood floor has you almost feeling a sense of deja vu, but one where you are in his position.

He stops only a half metre from you and you watch as he delicately leans over and places his hands either side of your head where it lays against the back of the couch. His breath mingles with your own as he brings his head close to yours. Your chest shows your laboured breathing but you’re sure Ten would be able to tell just from the way you’re parted lips pant, only a mere inch from his. “What would mommy’s good boy like him to do?” He asks, eyes half lidded as he waits for you to give him an instruction. You slowly bring your hand up to his face and gently brush a stray strand from his forehead before lacing your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Kiss me.” Is all you manage out before you tug him forward, half his weight landing in your lap as your lips meet. He kisses you with lust, as though he’d been just as frustrated it took him so long to get ready, but you both knew it was worth it. A finger from your other hand loops through the material of his choker, before you pull it slightly back. Effectively cutting off a decent amount of his air supply. He moans into your mouth and you immediately swallow it, the noise sending a flush through your body.

He pulls back slightly and his eyes meet yours. “And what did mommy want me to do to show he’s a good boy?” Your chest heaves not only from your lack of breath but at his dedication to the role and you sink further back into the couch as you push him back.

“It depends, do you want to show me how good you can be or do you want mommy to reward you for being an obedient boy so far?” Your question isn’t taken in by your boyfriend as he seems to have already made up his mind on what he wants to do before you can even answer.

He drops to his knees in front of you, pushing your legs apart and situating himself in that spot. He leans into your core before laying his head on your thigh. “Wanna show you.” He almost purrs and you hum in content at his answer, either way you didn’t mind. He lifts his hands to your waist in an attempt to tug at your jeans, before looking up at you through his lashes with wide eyes. Getting the hint you lift your hips as he continues to pull and is finally able to drag them down your legs, discarding them somewhere behind him.

He once again leans into you, seemingly inhaling your scent through your already wet panties and a faint blush rises to your cheeks in embarrassment at the obvious patch that leaks through. Ten takes no mind, only managing a soft groan as he tentatively pokes at the material with his tongue.

A shaky sigh escapes your lips at the action as he continues the motion and you start to become irritated at the delay. “Good boys don’t tease.” You warn with a sharpness in your tone and he immediately nods in agreement, repeating your warning under his breath, “Good boys don’t tease.”

Following this, he uses a single digit to gently pull them from your form gently moving them down your legs so that they pool at your ankles, not fussed at having to remove them entirely. Straight away he shoots forward, licking a long stripe up the expanse of your pussy until he reaches your clit.

You suppress a moan but can’t help the gasp that emits you as he begins to toy your clit in his mouth. Your hands fly to his hair where you grasp onto his soft roots as he lifts his eyes to yours. You could take a picture of this moment if it wasn’t so lewd. The way his eyes peer up at you as he’s dressed in the most breathtaking sexy attire you could only hope to pull off. His heels poke out from under him and you catch a glimpse of the stockings adorning his legs and can’t help the way your own eyes half roll back.

Your fingernails gently graze his scalp as you do so, making him groan into your pussy. He lifts a hand to press gentle circles into your clit as his tongue drops to your hole to lap at the juices that seemingly pour out of you at this point. You can’t help the way you wrap your legs around his head but he doesn’t push you away, apparently liking the fact you’re suffocating him between your thighs.

When he probes a finger at your entrance your head falls forward to watch as he slowly pushes it into your dripping hole. He then latches his mouth around your clit once again as he starts pumping the finger into you, the wet noises that would normally make you cringe only turn you on more. You try to pull him even closer by his hair as he sucks on your clit like it's the tastiest lollipop he’s ever tried and you almost cry out at the sensitivity it causes.

A series of curses leave your mouth as you feel the pleasure of the pain tip you into a state of euphoria, your pussy convulsing around his finger as he continues to kitten lick your clit. “Fuck baby, no more.” You manage out between pants, tugging his head back by his hair. He only groans into you making you stutter forward, your hips bucking up in sensitivity.

His head knocks up at the motion and when he tries to bury himself between your legs again, you pull him up into your lap and press your face into the expanse of his neck. “No means no, Ten.” You mumble against his skin to which only earns you a whine. You leave a trail of marks along his pale throat as your wandering hands make their way down from his shoulders to his hips.

Within a second you use the grip to flip the both of you over so that you are now straddling him whilst he lies back across the couch, a grunt escaping him while you do. You sit up and pull your shirt over your head, the only clothing left on your body is your bra which you have no intention of removing. However your boyfriend immediately whines when he realises you won’t, reaching up to attempt at removing it himself whilst you tut a sharp ‘no’.

His face scrunches up at your response, “But I’ve been good!” His proclamation makes you half roll your eyes before you reach behind your back and unclip your bra, tossing it away. “Happy now my whiny baby?” You mock to which he immediately hums, reaching up and tugging you down.

When you're only slightly hovering over him, he lifts his head up to take a nipple into his mouth, softly pinching the other. You half close your eyes at the pleasant feeling before they shoot open. A not so gentle nip is issued to the nipple in his mouth and you immediately scold him. “No biting, Ten.” He only looks up at you innocently before switching to the other nippile, maintaining eye contact.

Once again your breath sharpens before you tug yourself from his grip, much to his dismay. You take yourself down his body so that you can run your fingers up his stockings, letting the fabric occasionally catch and pull before snapping back against his skin. The immediate hiss that escapes him turns into a low, drawn out moan as he watches you in wonder.

You run your hands slowly up his thighs, your fingertips dancing under the hem of his dress. His breath quickens, you can feel it not only in the way he moves, but the way his skin trembles under your touch. When you reach his upper thighs where the stockings end, you realise your boyfriend wears nothing else under the fabric of the dress.

You internally groan and flip the dress up so that the hem lies on his lower stomach. His cock immediately jumps up to greet you. Your gleeful expression is hard to mask as you realise just how much he’s enjoying this. Almost more than you it seems. Your cold fingertips brush lightly around his most sensitive part and he shifts under you impatiently, a groan emitting from him.

Your eyes make contact with his, “Do you think you’ve been good enough to deserve to be touched, baby?” You question, your almost condescending tone sending a shiver up his spine before he nods. You raise a questioning brow at his wordless answer. “Yes mommy.”

You nod in approval, moving to lean over his tip before letting a drop of saliva drip from between your lips, landing directly on him. His hands on his stomach clench and when you move your hand to grip him, he sighs in content. His hard cock beneath your hand pulses as you slowly start to pump him, the spit working as a lube to ease to movement.

You watch as he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth and you smirk before moving your hand in fast strokes right under the head of his cock before you bring your other hand up to lightly flick his tip. The slight pain mixed with the pleasure of your movements has his back arching up and his eyes closing fully as he throws his head back against the cushions. Fully showing the expanse of his pale throat contrasted to the black choker sitting prettily against his skin.

“I’m gonna cum.” He warns in a husky voice and you nod in understanding, a sigh leaving his lips thinking you’re going to let him release like this. You give another couple strokes before pulling your hands from him. His head shoots up in disbelief. “Seriously?” He questions a bratty, ungrateful pitch underlying his tone. “You’ll take what you get baby, cause that’s what good boys do.” You point out to which he shoots you a look.

“What if I don’t wanna be your good boy anymore?” He smirks, his voice holding a sense of victory. You only shrug trying to seem unfazed by his rebuttal. “Then I'll just go to bed.” You state staley, making his jaw drop slightly and his eyes narrow. His expression tells you that you wouldn’t dare leave him like this. Or so he thought.

He almost begs you to stay when you lift off of him, giving him a faked sad wave as you make your way to your bedroom. You hear him move before you feel or see him. He quickly clatters to his feet, obvious with the noise he makes in the heels as he stands in a rush and staggers over to you. He grasps your wrist pulling you around and you have to hold back the look of awe you want to show. He’s an extra couple inches taller than you, like you thought he’d be. But your good little boy (when he wants to be) has a primal look shadowing beneath the surface of his iris’. He pulls you close to him, pressing your bodies together so that you can feel the lacy material of the dress tickling at your bare skin. He pulls you forcefully in for a kiss, hot and messy. Your boyfriend is obviously not a fan of being left unattended to. Whilst you're distracted he pushes you backwards, his hands trailing down the expanse of your back.

When you hit a solid surface you gasp, pulling back from him causing him to press hard kisses into your jaw and down the side of your neck. He’d pushed you back against the kitchen bench, and you nearly squeal in surprise when he lifts you easily onto the counter. Because of his added height you sit hip to hip with him and he runs his hands over your bare thighs before pulling them around his waist. You groan as he flips his skirt up, before reaching between you two and pinching your clit, eliciting a yelp from you. He lowers his mouth to the side of your head and you feel his breath tingle at the shell of your ear.

“Good mommy’s don’t leave their little boys unsatisfied.” Is the only thing he says before he lines himself up with your entrance. It’s the only preparation you receive before he ruts up into you, slipping in easily. You cry out, looping your arms around his neck and burying your face under his throat. As your mouth parts you feel the fabric of the choker against your lips, so you bite against his throat nibbling the material into your mouth. He groans, his thrusts becoming faster paced and you swore you could feel him throb inside you. You lean back slightly in his grip, your teeth still clenching around his choker tightly.

You feel his fingers leave prints on your hips as your pull on his neck piece once again has him actually being choked. The noises that escape him make your pussy clench around his cock and you feel another rush of arousal shoot through your body, pulling a deliciously loud moan from between his lips. He starts to shallowly rock against you, the friction on your clit leaving you mewling against him. You feel the moment he cums into you. With the teasing and the way you’re harshly cutting off his breath supply, paired with the way you fit him so well. Always so perfectly accommodating.

With the feeling of him stuttering up into you, you quickly find yourself following after him, a loud noise similar to a whimper being dragged from your chest. You sit there together and attached to each other. Your head tucked in his neck and his resting gently on the top of yours. You lean up to his ear slowly, trying to not move your hips too much knowing you’re both far too sensitive for that. Your breath gently tickles his ear lobe and another tingle races down his spine at the feeling.

“Trick or treat?” You hum against his skin, a small smile gracing your lips.

“Treat. Definitely treat.”

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