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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

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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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dilemmaontwolegs · 10 months

Note

helloooo, could you write a fic where the OC is also a f1 driver and they're Lando's rival, buutt one race weekend she goes into his driver's room to argue with him but they do more because they're both frustrated? like pure smut

The Fine Line || LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!driver!reader Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, angst, smut WC: 1.6k F1 Masterlist

No one tried to stop you as you stormed through the McLaren garage, ascending the stairs two at a time just to reach the driver's room quicker. Your heel planted on the door and it flew open with a bang and left a handle sized hole in the plaster where it struck.

"I get that you don't like me but you don't have to drive me into the fucking wall, Norris."

Lando had barely returned to the room after crashing out of the race with the collision but you were too angry to see the state of his undress, his fireproof shirt carelessly strewn across the floor.

“You really think too highly of yourself,” he scoffed, pulling the door out from the wall and slamming it closed.

“So you didn’t cut into my line and take me out?” you dared, the video footage proof that it was exactly what he had done.

“I can’t stand you, why would I want to go anywhere near you and your precious racing line?” he growled as each step brought him closer until he was dominating your personal space.

Your lips pulled up into a taunting smirk and you tilted your head back to meet his eyes. “You are awfully close, for a man that doesn’t want to be near me.”

His eyes traced the curve of your lips before he dragged them back to your eyes and he dipped his head to whisper in your ear. “You came here first.”

Your mouth was dry as you swallowed and the room suddenly felt too hot. “Because you put me into a fucking wall, Norris.”

“This is putting you into a wall,” he said as he pushed you back.

You waited for the impact but his arm snaked around your back and his palm cradled your head before the contact came. His entire body was pressed the length of yours and a needy whine escaped your lips as the race high and adrenaline left your body screaming for an outlet.

“You like that? Hmm?” he smirked but you returned it as you rolled your hips and felt his erection proudly digging into your stomach.

“Don’t take it personally, Norris, it’s not you, you just have the right…bits.”

“I don’t believe you.” He fingers toyed with the zip and your collar, waiting to see if you would slap them away in this strange game of chicken. The only sounds were the quickening of your breath and the tear of Velcro before he drew the zip down your body and saw your skin-tight fireproof shirt beneath.

You dragged your nails down his back and smirked as he groaned at the heat that flared from the five angry red lines. Nipping at his jaw, he bucked his hips before you pushed him away. “And I don’t care.”

“Bullshit,” he chuckled when he recovered and combed a hand through his messy hair. “Just admit it, you want me.”

“I want you, Lando,” you admitted as you opened the door. “I want you…to stay the fuck off my race line.”

Two Months Later You had the cash ready in hand when the knock at your door came, but it wasn’t who you expected on the other side.

“Blocking me?” Lando huffed as he pushed his way inside your suite. “That’s fucking low.”

You rolled your eyes at the scathing attitude. “You think I wanted a penalty? I wasn’t even impeding you, there was plenty of room if you used your eyes to look for something other than the paddock bunnies.”

You started to close the door when the food you had ordered arrived, the poor man looking unsettled as his eyes danced between you and Lando. “Are you alright, ma’am? Would you like me to call security?”

The hostility was palpable and you chuckled as you took the bag, handing the money over with a sizable tip. “I can handle him, thanks.”

He clearly wasn’t all that satisfied but nodded and left, wishing you a good evening before you closed the door. The entire hotel didn’t need to hear you and Lando’s war of words.

“You can’t even handle qualifying,” he scoffed, peeking over your shoulder into the bag. “Is that katsu?”

“Yes, and no, you are not getting any.” You wanted to eat it while it was hot but you couldn’t ignore the papaya elephant in the room. “Did you come here for anything else?”

“Like what?”

“How would I know? I don’t know what goes on in that little head of yours. But I picture it’s something like that monkey banging cymbals together on repeat.”

“You were right with the banging,” he muttered as he helped himself to your mini bar. “Wrong with the animal.”

“Gross.” Effectively put off your food, you pushed the dish away and decided a drink was better. Lando was leaning against the countertop, his legs wide manspreading and his arms crossed, trying to look dominant. He watched you bend down to grab a miniature bottle of champagne from the fridge, not bothering with a glass as you popped the cork.

“Want a sip?” you offered. “It’s the closest you’ll get to tasting victory.”

“God I hate you,” he growled as he pushed your hand away.

You chuckled and took a sip of the sweet bubbles. “There’s a fine line between love and hate. I think you’re just confused.”

“Okay, I love to hate you.”

You stepped between his legs and placed your bottle next to his on the bench. He watched with half hooded eyes as you reached for his belt and made no effort to stop you from unbuckling it. “Is that why you always find a reason to come to my room?”

“Don’t act like you don’t get off on it too.” His arms uncrossed and his hands drifted over your hips before disappearing into the back pockets of your jeans where he squeezed your ass. His breath teased the shell of your ear as a hand snaked up your neck until he cradled your cheek, his thumb brushing beneath your eye as he whispered, “I remember seeing tears last time, you came so hard.”

“Those were tears of disappointment, that you couldn’t last longer,” you lied. The bastard was right, no one could make you angry like he could but it made for some explosive sex.

“I can go all night, baby,” Lando chuckled darkly before his hand dropped to the base of your throat and he crushed his lips to yours. His fingers tightened slightly, warning you of his strength as he pulled back and bit his bottom lip in contemplation. “Guess I’ll just have to remind you again.”

The colours of your clothes clashed as they were abandoned to the floor, his McLaren papaya and your Alpine pink proving just how badly the two together were. But it didn’t stop you from taking him to your bed, from your bodies colliding with desperate need, from crying out his name in ecstasy.

His body bore the marks of your nails, and yours held the marks of his mouth, where he had nipped and sucked his way across your collar. There was no care given between you in the primal need to chase a high, an outlet for the fire that burned inside of you, except for where you marked each other.

“There they are,” Lando chuckled proudly as his fingers left bruises on your hips, pulling you back to meet his hips with every long hard thrust. His pace was relentless, your thighs shaking as you lost all sense of self and screwed your eyes shut as you felt them begin to sting.

Your throat was hoarse and your lips swollen from the dominating kisses that stole the louder cries from them. His skin was slick with sweat and his breath came in quick pants as his forehead crumpled in restraint, his teeth clenched together.

“Go on, baby, open your eyes for me,” he taunted as a tear escaped the corner, disappearing into your hair as you shook your head. “No?”

He didn’t like to be denied and his palm slapped down on your clit, eliciting a sharp whimper as it only intensified the heat in your core. Your back arched and your lips curled into a smirk before parting with a drawn out moan as he snapped his hips even faster, the room filling with the sound of his skin slapping yours.

“Open. Your. Eyes,” he growled, pinching your nipple sharply.

“Ah,” you cried out as your eyes flew open and to meet his. The heat exploded as you came again, the waves of the orgasm rocking your entire body and his jaw fell slack at the feel of your walls clenching tight around him.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he succumbed to his own release. He pulled out and spilled himself over your stomach, fisting his cock and squeezing out every last milky drop before sitting back on his heels panting. His face was smug as he memorised the sight before him, your eyes half closed, your lips parted, the hickeys he left on your collar, the mess he left on your belly, your clit swollen and oversensitized, your cunt dripping with your arousal. “Fuck.”

He climbed off the bed, stumbling a bit with lightheadedness before catching himself and grabbing his clothes. You rolled over like a lazy cat and watched him dress just as quickly as he had undressed before leaving without a goodbye. You would have remained silent too with his exit except you heard the telltale crinkle of a paper bag and everything you felt before came crashing back.

“Get your own fucking food, Norris!”

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #lando norris smut

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pitchsidestories · 12 days

Text

Good girl gone bad II Ingrid Engen x Mapi León x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1886

a/n: hi, it's based off this request here, enjoy.

warnings: minors dni, 18+, smut at the end, toxic behaviour from OC, jealousy, please don't take this too seriously !

“Ingrid, you played fantastic!”, Mapi waved enthusiastically her little flag, before she jumped into the open arm of hers and your Norwegian girlfriend.

“Oh, thanks.”, the tall woman’s face lit up at the Spanish defender’s compliment.

“Seriously, you filled out the defensive role so perfectly, I couldn’t have done a better job.”, the smaller player couldn’t stop gushing about her lover’s great performance.

“Just wait until you can play again.”, Ingrid muttered cheerfully.

“Not that long anymore.”, Mapi answered giddily.

“I’ll miss you and your little flag though.”, the younger footballer admitted.

“To be honest, I’ll miss that too.”, she agreed wistfully.

“ I know but there’s no better feeling than playing.”, Ingrid mumbled, her teammates still running around with the CL trophy in her hand, taking pictures in between the celebratory moves.

The defender who has followed her girlfriends gaze added grinning:”Playing and winning.”

“Exactly.”

From the sidelines you’ve followed their conversation, you were hurt about the fact that you weren’t a part of it as it usually was you three together and not as a pair like in this particular moment.

With every fibre of your being, you felt like the other woman who wasn’t in this relationship even though you were up until now. The loneliness crept under your skin; jealousy clung to your heart and wouldn’t let you go until Alexia started talking to you.

“Don’t let your head down, beautiful. After all we won.”, she reminded you, while pulling you into a encouraging hug.

“Um, what?”, you gave the midfielder a quizzing look, her words haven’t reached you as you’ve been too busy to listen to your girlfriends’ sweet nothings which didn’t include you in them.

“I can tell you’re disappointed.”, Alexia stated earnestly.

“I didn’t play much tonight, so it’s not really my win, Ale.”, you told her miserably. You hated that tone in your voice. Where was your confident self?

“We’re all in this situation at one point. Someone is always on the bench. But we always win as a team.”, the blonde tried to cheer you up.

“Right.”, you said even though you turned away when you saw your girlfriends were kissing ignoring everything around them as if they were in a movie in which they played the leading roles, while the rest of you were the supporting actresses to help the lovers get to their happy ending.

“Oh, hey, babe. We’re going to the party later. You’re coming too, right?”, Ingrid asked you later in the changing room, finally realizing you were still there after all.

“Yes, of course.“, you nodded.

Ingrids gaze went back to Mapi as she smiled: “Great, I’ll go shower.“

“Me too.“, you said, walking past both of your girlfriends into the showers that were adjacent to the dressing room.

You had hoped that the steaming hot water would clear your mind but the calmness that usually came with a warm shower never set in.

Instead, the pictures of what happened after the game kept repeating in your head. You were never the jealous type, you could not be jealous in a relationship like yours. But you also knew that you deserved better than to be ignored by your girlfriends, so you came up with a plan.

For the party, you decided to slip into a a pair of suit pants and a button-down vest with nothing underneath, drawing attention to your arms and chest with your outfit choice. You curled the ends of your hair and put on some make-up. You looked at yourself in the mirror, satisfied with your looks.

“Are you two ready to go?“, Mapi asked impatiently, looking effortlessly cool as usual.

Ingrid appeared next to her, wearing a tight dress and radiating ethereal beauty: “Yes, we’re ready, love.“

Mapi nodded towards the door: “Let’s go then, babe.“

You reluctantly followed them, already disappointed that none of them had commented on your outfit. You were not exactly pouting on your way to the party but you also refused to talk much.

Arriving at the location, your two girlfriends retreated to a table in the corner with their drinks. They were lost in each others eyes. You were sure they noticed nothing of what happened around them.

As you were nursing your drink at the bar, Alexia appeared on your side: “What are you thinking about?“

“Me?“ You looked at her in surprise.

“Yes.“

You first inclination was to tell her that you felt like your girlfriends did not need you in their lives but instead, you swallowed down the thought and forced yourself to smile: “They’re playing Rosalia. Want to dance, Ale?“

The captain looked at your for a second before giving in: “Only because you look so unhappy.“

“Dancing always helps with that…“, you promised.

“Come on then.“ Alexia reached out her hand and pulled you towards the dance floor.

You immediately fell into an easy rhythm with her. You deliberately pushed close to her during your dance and she let you.

On the other side of the room, Ingrid tapped Mapis arm frantically: “Mapi!“

“Yes?“, the defender could barely tear her eyes from her Norwegian girlfriend.

“Look!“

Only then did she look over in your direction, her eyebrows knitting together: “Y/n is dancing with Ale?“

“Looks like it…“, Ingrid whispered.

“That’s not her usual good girl behaviour.”, the Mapi observed through gritted teeth. Sawing you dance with one of her best friends in the way you did, so intimately and sexy was driving the older woman insane.

“No, it’s not.”, the Norwegian player nodded, she wasn’t able to take her eyes from you and your team’s captain.

“We’ll see and give her a little time to redeem herself otherwise if she keeps behaving naughty like that over the night we’ll take actions.”, the older woman thought out loud.

“Take actions`”, Ingrid looked startled at the smaller footballer.

“Y/n is needy and bratty in front of everyone, so we’ll punish her at home.”, she explained seriously.

“Punish her?”, shock was written all over the younger woman’s pretty face.

“Yes.”

Meanwhile, Ona tipped your shoulder making you turn around to her to look into her eyes, which glanced concerned back at you:” Can I take over?”

“Sure.”, you agreed enthusiastically to her offer, feeling the alcohol more than you wanted to admit. After a dance with you Alexia had returned to her girlfriend to engage into a passionate conversation which involved mostly kisses.

“You’re in a party mood. How many drinks did you have?”, the defender asked you, damn her, she really did notice everything.

“Uhm maybe two.”, you replied, your cheeks immediately turning red.

“Two?”, Ona raised an eyebrow at you. Her voice was full of scepticism.

“Don’t worry about it, Oni.”, you answered with a charming smile on your lips.

“I don’t.”, she quickly reassured you.

“Good.” But you realized your teammate’s her hands were still on your upper arms contradicting what she just said.

“Something’s up with you.”, Ona stated firmly.

“Let’s just dance, please.”, you shook your head heavily.

With a sigh the defender said:” Alright.”

“Thank you.”, you mumbled relieved, that the questioning was over for now. Sweet, innocent Ona was the last person you wanted to trouble with your worries.

“You’re welcome.”

The mix of alcohol and changing teammates made you forget that time was passing by. You were confused when you found the home you shared with your girlfriends was already dark without any lights on.

Nonetheless, you let them know that you arrived:” Hi, I’m home.” A familiar shadow was pressing on to your legs, being clearly happy about your return.

“And hello Bagheera.”, you added, as you stroke the cat softly who purred loudly to your touches.

“About time.”, Mapi announced sounding very displeased, you shrieked as she appeared from the darkness, her moves scarily similar to Bagheera. Elegant but lurking, why you didn’t understand. Maybe your behaviour had worked out?

“Mapi, Ingrid, here you’re. but why didn’t you turn the lights on?”, you questioned them irritated.

“We were about to go to bed.”, Ingrid responded calmly.

“Great, me too. I’ll just go to the bathroom quick.”, you sighed.

Mapi raised an eyebrow and said cooly: “You have two minutes.“

“What?“ Confused, you opened the bathroom door. Whatever that was supposed to mean, you were now determined to take your time.

“Go.“, Mapi ordered.

You rolled your eyes, disappearing into the bathroom. You only heard Ingrid say: “Good girl.“

You sat down on the toilet and took out your phone, scrolling through pictures of tonight. Only then, you slipped out of your nice suit and left the bathroom in only your underwear.

Ready to go to sleep, you were about to go into your shared bedroom but Mapi blocked your way.

She leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed in front of her chest: “What did you think you were doing all night?“

“Partying?“, you replied, playing dumb and trying to move past your girlfriend.

“Dancing with Alexia and Ona? You might as well have given them a lap dance.“, Mapi scolded you.

Ingrid appeared next to her, eyeing you closely before turning to the Spanish defender and mumbling seductively: “Our good girl’s gone bad tonight…“

You shot Ingrid a deadly glance: “You think you’re funny? You ignored me all night. I was just having fun.“

“We saw everything.“, Mapi said, her jaw set.

“I’m sure you did, the way you stared at each other all night.“, you rolled your eyes.

“Y/n.“, Ingrid said softly, while Mapi shook her head: “Don’t distract.“

“I don’t!“, you exploded.

Mapi continued: “You were trying to make us jealous all night.“

Ingrid nodded: “Exactly.“

Before you could protest, Mapis hands were on your body and pulled you towards the bed: “Now come here.“

You could feel your back hit the mattress. Your girlfriends climbed onto the bed as well, one on either side of you.

You had no idea what happened but suddenly, Ingrids mouth was on your neck and sucked on the sensitive skin. She slipped a slender hand over your mouth right as you wanted to start to complain. Mapis hands in the meantime rested on your hips.

You were too focused on Ingrids kisses to realize that your Spanish girlfriend had started to pull your panties down with her teeth. Only when she dipped her tongue in, you started to moan into Ingrids hand. She already knew how she had to move her tongue just right.

While Mapi was busy stimulating you, Ingrids mouth wandered across your upper body. Kissing and licking her way towards your breasts. She circled your nipples with her tongue before starting to suck on them. You squirmed under her touch.

Mapi had switched from licking to using her fingers and you could not contain yourself any longer.

Impatiently, you removed Ingrids hand from your mouth. “Stop!“, you whined.

You could see Mapis lips turn into a smirk: “Say please.“

“Please stop.“, you begged impatiently.

And then you finally climaxed, a firework bursting in every part of your body. You moaned.

Mapi rested her head on your stomach as she watched you breath heavily.

Ingrid pressed a kiss to your forehead: “Good girl.“

You knew that this was supposed to be a punishment but right here on the bed, you finally felt seen by your girlfriends again.

#ingrid engen #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen imagine #mapi leon #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon imagine #ingrid engen x mapi leon x reader #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso community #woso oneshot #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #ona batlle #woso smut

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mopopshop · 16 days

Note

could you do a emily x reader where emily proposes???

Forever Starts Tonight

i love a good fluffy fic omg

also i made an oc for this one just because i really dislike using “y/n” in my writing sorry fam🙏🏾

and i included a few links in there just for visualization 🤞🏾😖

“We should go out tonight,”

You and Emily had just gotten back from a nice couples outing, she’d basically been spoiling you the whole day since you’d just finished exams the day before. Domestic breakfast in bed, morning sex (🤭), shopping trip where she convinced you to buy a few new dresses, lunch, even taking you to get your nails done, and now finally arriving back home.

“You can even wear one of those new dresses you bought today” she pointed out.

“I don’t know, Em… I’m kinda tired and I just feel like bad that you’re spending all this money on me” you chuckle but you really do mean what you’re saying.

She grabs your hands from where she’s laying next to you on the bed and starts kissing your knuckles “No, baby don’t feel bad I’ve been planning on spoiling you for all this hard work you’ve done. Todays all about you ‘mkay? Just one little dinner, you and me and then we can retire and hibernate in this apartment for as long as you want”

You laugh, nodding then ducking your head down for a brief kiss.

“Plus I already made the reservation so…” she whispers against your lips.

That’s when you burst out laughing, smacking her shoulder teasingly “Can we at least take a quick nap before we go? I meant when I said I’m tired as hell, what times the reservation?”

“Uhh,” she goes to check her phone “8:00, so yeah we can nap”

You smile in relief, knowing a nap is exactly what you need after this morning. Emily wraps her arms around you, pulling you close.

"Thanks, Em," you mumble into her shoulder, already feeling your eyelids grow heavy.

"Of course, babe " She strokes your hair gently, her touch soothing and familiar.

You drift off quickly, the comfort of her embrace lulling you into a deep sleep.

When you wake up, the room is dimly lit by the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the curtains. Emily is already up, quietly moving around the room. She notices you stirring and smiles warmly.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she says softly. "How was your nap?"

"Much needed," you reply, stretching lazily. "What time is it?"

"A little after seven. We should start getting ready soon."

You nod, feeling more refreshed. Emily helps you up, and you both head to the closet to pick out your outfits. You decide on one of the new dresses she convinced you to buy earlier. It's a backless silky blue dress, complementing your eyes perfectly.

Emily opts for a darker blue suit and accessorizes it with silver jewelry. Emily finishes getting ready first and stands behind you as you put the final touches on your makeup. She watches you in the mirror, her eyes full of affection.

"You look fucking gorgeous," she says, almost out of breath.

"Thanks, Em," you reply, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Not lookin to bad yourself”

She grins “You already know, don’t sleep on my fits baby”

You break into laughter as you’re putting your earrings on, turning around to shove her playfully “Shut up” you smile.

Once the both of you are ready Emily takes your hand, leading you out of the apartment. The restaurant is a short drive away, and you arrive just in time for your reservation.

The place is beautiful, with an intimate ambiance and soft, romantic lighting. You feel a flutter of nerves as you're seated at a cozy table for two. It’s pretty private and away from the rest of the guests as it looks over a gorgeous skyline, the sun painting a beautiful picture of purples and oranges.

Emily seems calm and composed, but there's a glint in her eye that you can't quite decipher. Dinner is wonderful, filled with delicious food and easy conversation. Emily is more attentive than usual, her gaze lingering on you with an intensity that makes your heart race but you brush it off continuing with your conversation.

“Ugh that sunset is so pretty” you pout

Emily immediately jumps at the opportunity “Lemme take a few pictures for you baby”

You smile, clapping your hands excitedly and stand up. She takes a few of you smiling at the camera, then a few of you looking off in the distance.

“Let’s take a few of you turned around”

You nod and turn, doing a few poses, looking in a few directions before realizing that you’ve been standing for too long.

“Em? You don-“ you turn back to see Emily down on one knee, the sight alone makes your knees weak as you slap your hand over your mouth gasping. You start crying on the spot and Emily chuckles slightly at your reaction.

“Can you take my hand, baby?” she asks gently and you nod wordlessly.

“You, from the very first moment I laid eyes on you, changed my life in ways I never imagined possible. Your strength, your kindness, and your unwavering support have been my anchor, my inspiration, and my greatest joy. Every single day with you has been a gift, and I find myself falling more in love with you, over and over again.

“You’re it for me baby, there’s not a single person on this planet who can make me feel the way you do and It's not just about the big moments like today, but the little ones – the quiet mornings, the shared laughs, the way you look at me and every worry I’ve had just washes away. It's all those moments that make me certain of what I want for our future.

"I've been dreaming about this moment for so long, and I’m trying my hardest not to fuck it up” You laugh at this through your tears “You are my best friend, my confidant, my everything. I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you've made me.”

She reaches into her pocket, fishing out a heart shaped velvet box. Opening it to reveal a gorgeous ring, an emerald-cut diamond on a gold band, accented with small clusters of diamonds on either side.

“Mariah Ruth Dawson, will you do me the honor of making me the happiest woman on earth and marry me?”

By now the guests who’re seated further away have spotted this interaction and now all eyes are on you and Emily.

Tears stream down your face as Emily’s words sink in, each one filling your heart with overwhelming joy and love. You nod, your voice catching in your throat.

"Yes," you whisper, then louder, "Yes, yes, yes, oh my god, yes I’ll marry you”

She slips the ring on and you and Emily share a tender embrace, her arms wrapped around your waist while your find themselves looped around her neck. Suddenly you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you're met with a sight that takes your breath away. Standing before you are your parents and older sister.

At this you burst into ugly tears as you realize what Emily has done. She flew out your family to witness this special moment, knowing how much their presence would mean to you.

“You flew out my family?” you ask, your lip wobbling.

“Yeah, baby” she grins, trying to wipe the onslaught of tears that fall.

“Thank you” you whisper before rushing into the arms of your family, embracing each of them tightly as they congratulate you on your engagement. Emily stands back, a smile of satisfaction and happiness gracing her features as she watches the scene unfold.

After, your parents and sister hug Emily and exchange sweet words then they walk off to the side to give you and Emily a few moments alone.

“Fuck, my makeup’s everywhere” you say as a watery chuckle escapes your lips, dabbing at your eyes with a napkin.

Emily smiles “Still lookin beautiful as ever”

You roll your eyes and look away, giggling “Cornball, whatever”

She pulls your waist so your chest to chest, you look up at her and wrap your arms around her neck once again.

“You happy?” she murmurs

“Very” you smile back

She giggles “I love you, Fiancée”

“I love you more, Fiancée”

———

I really enjoyed making this one so i hope u guys feel the same lmk!! 🫶🏾

#women’s basketball #ncaa women’s basketball #ncaa #wnba #wlw #emily engstler #emily engstler x reader #emily engstler headcannons

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kookslastbutton · 1 year

Text

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) || ch.I

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4,187

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), flirty banter, fighting, jk has a bit of a temper, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, Heaven+

A/N: Okay I have been having such baby fever for last few years no joke. I wanna be mom or aunty but my sister won’t have kids yet! So i write this lame series to cope even though it's lowkey sad? lmao. Enjoy!! 🥰

༓ ch. II >> | series masterlist

You’re not exactly sure when it happened but one minute you’re crouched over, sketching in your journal and the next, a child with big brown eyes comes up beside you to watch over your shoulder. He’s a cute little fella, you note. Can't be more than four years old. His hair is ink-black and on the longer side. He’s got on a pair of black and white checkered pants, navy blue sweatshirt, and a toy snug under one arm. At first glance, you struggle to make out the toy but it looks like an elephant.

“Hi…” His hand reaches for you. It tugs the edge of your dress sleeve before reaching down to latch onto a few fingers. You smile up at the child, warmth immediately beaming through your heart.

“Hi sweetheart,” you say. “What’s your name?” You wait for the boy to answer but he doesn’t. Instead, he shuffles down next to you on the grass and points to your drawing. His delicate eyebrows knit together in an inquisitive manner. “What is this?” he asks.

You look down at your drawing, examining it from various angles. It's unfinished but you're working on a sketch of the pond nearby. You've managed to capture the sun-kissed water but the sky needs more work. Being the weekend, you couldn't give up the rare opportunity to indulge in your favorite hobby. “It’s the pond with all the colorful leaves,” you reply.

Blank face, the child thinks before speaking again. “Who taught you?”

Now that's an interesting question. Drawing had always been in your blood since a child. You fell in love with the ability to let your imagination run wild on paper whether it be on the back of your homework or even cardboard. To you, drawing was freedom and discovery. It allowed you to express emotion, memories, abstract thoughts, and to recreate the real world. You typically preferred sketching with drawing pencils but occasionally dabbled with watercolors. You had a gift for it–a natural gift.

By the time high school rolled around, you tended to hole up in the art room, sketching for as long as you could. Your art teacher suggested you go to school for it come senior year which gave you enough push to bring it up to your parents. Determined, you spoke to your parents about it but it was null–art could only be a hobby, it couldn’t support your future. They suggested you go to school for economics or finance instead. You nearly hurled at the idea but you eventually agreed, knowing they’d never pay for you to go to art school. Drawing, as you found out, had to be on the side.

"I had a teacher once in school," you say. "But I mostly learned myself."

The child tilts his head to the side, a puzzled look on his face. “You?”, he says.

You nod your head in affirmation.

“No way! Even I have art teacher.”

You chuckle lightly and move to stand up from the grass, needing to stretch due to your crouched position. He follows suit, still clinging to your hand. “Where you going, Eomma?”

Eomma...That's a name you don't get called often. You're not used to being seen as the mom type. In fact, when you tied the knot with Jungkook, the two of you agreed that having a family was a grey area. You both liked kids, sure, but being parents? That was a subject neither of you seriously considered. “I’m sorry sweetheart,” you coo. “I’m not your Eomma. But, let’s find her together, okay?”

The child shakes his head, refusing to budge. "Mm no," he says, clinging to your leg. "Wanna stay with you." Your heart skips a beat. Children don't typically take to you like this. It causes something inside of you to want to lunge down and pick up the child in a tight embrace. But you nip that thought in the bud when you catch sight of a woman roughly your age jogging toward you. She looks like the child’s mother.

“Si-woo!” She gives a wave. "Si-woo come here!"

“Eomma!” The child’s cheeks rise into a big grin as he watches his mom approach nearer. He lets go of your leg but his hand remains locked in your own. You end up squeezing Si-woo’s tiny hand but then, like a bitter aftertaste, you remember– he doesn’t belong to you. You loosen your grip and allow him to run back to his mom.

“It was nice meeting you Si-woo!” There’s a hint of sadness in your tone but you do your best to brush it off. You only knew Si-woo for a short while and now he’s back with his real mom. You should be happy but when Si-woo’s mom lifts her son, she gives you a scowl. She doesn’t even come up to say anything to you but turns around and carries her son back to their picnic area. You frown realizing you were merely a stranger who little kids are told not to talk to.

You sigh and glance at your unfinished drawing. Suddenly, you don’t feel like drawing anymore. You pack up your belongings in your bag and head to your car, the event replaying in your mind.

You can’t blame Si-woo’s mom for being a little rigid, you think. You’d share a similar reaction with your own kids if you had any–if you had any. You repeat the phrase unexpectedly. Were you warming up to the idea? Your marriage did recently surpass the two-year mark, perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to consider having…no, you mentally stop yourself. Yes, Si-woo was cute but it likely wouldn't happen. You toss your bag of art supplies in the back seat and drive home.

“Jungkook! You here?” You step into your shared apartment and drop your bag on the kitchen counter. The smell of burnt wax mixed with vanilla bean hits you as soon as you walk into the living room. “Jungkook you better be home or these candles are going in the trash!” You really didn’t mind the candles but your husband had a nasty habit of keeping them lit even when you were both out of the house. He didn’t do it on purpose, of course, it was accidental but it was too much of a fire hazard to ignore.

“Kook!” you holler again, but no reply. These damn candles. You snuff them out one by one before venturing into the bedroom. Thankfully none were lit in there. You reach behind your back and unzip your dress, letting it pile around your feet. It's a beautiful dress but you were dying to get into a pair of sweat shorts and a t-shirt.

“Hey honey,” Jungkook says, emerging from the bathroom with damp hair and a towel tied around his waist. You let out a yelp before making eye contact. You've always been easily startled. “How was the park?”

Mentally, you bite your lip. This man was getting sexier every day, especially with that gold band wrapped around his fourth finger. You toss a t-shirt over your head. “Absolutely wonderful. Been a while since I’ve been able to really focus and draw. I loved every second." Should you mention the child? You pause, briefly contemplating the thought. Why not? "A really cute kid came up to watch me draw too…’til his mother took him away.” You don't notice but you nearly spat the last part.

Jungkook lets out a small snort, amused by your sudden irritation. There were many things he knew you could put up with, a resilient woman you were. But whoever this kid’s mother was must have gotten under your skin in the most unusual way. “It’s great you had a good time but you sound borderline offended about whoever this kid’s mother is.”

“It’s nothing really.” You shrug. “The kid came up to me and grabbed my hand. We had a nice talk but then his mom showed up. She didn’t even say hi to me. She just picked up her son and scowled at me like I took him or something. Believe me, I get it. But I didn’t do anything!”

“Don’t think about it too much __. She was probably just worried about getting her son back. I’m sure she did mean anything.”

“I guess. But do I really look that harmful?” You face your husband, hands perfectly poised on your hips.

Jungkook strides over to you and strokes down your arms until your hands relax to your sides. He gives you a quick peck on the lips. “Yes.”

Surprised, your mouth falls open. How dare he?! You give a pout, one that Jungkook finds especially irresistible. “Then you can keep your hands and lips off me for the rest of the night, Mr. Jeon.” You wiggle out of his grasp.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for the past four years Ms. y/l/n. But you couldn’t stay away, could you? Just had to marry your hot professor, you naughty girl.” Jungkook grabs you again, pressing himself against your torso. You squeal at the contact. Married for two years and you’re still a blushing mess, get it together __!

“I wasn’t the one who was grabbing my student’s ass after class halfway through the first semester,” you quip, gripping his biceps. “I’m innocent.”

“Oh honey, nonono. You don’t get to play the role of a shy little angel who got eaten by her big bad wolf of a professor day one of university. You were already a master's student when we met. You knew what you were getting into when you started wearing tight little skirts to my class.”

You roll your eyes. “C’mon I had leggings underneath and I wore sweaters. If you’re accusing me of seducing you through my wardrobe then you have a very odd way of getting turned on.”

“Honey, how long have you known me? Sure tits and ass are cool and I won’t say no if you wanna show me.” You give a light shove on his shoulder at that, Jungkook chuckles. “But I have a doctorate in economics. Nothing catches my interest more than a studious individual like yourself studying all the angles of supply and demand. Plus, I liked your sweaters. Made me curious what you were hiding.”

“Oh stop it!” You end up giggling at your husband’s beyond-cheesy explanations. “How am I supposed to know my economics professor was ogling my teddy bear sweater for fuck sake?”

Jungkook throws his head back, feigning frustration. “It wasn’t a teddy bear sweatshirt. It was a bunny and it was very cute!”

“Whatever. Point is, I’m not the one to blame. I was a good student getting her master’s like her parents wanted until she found out her professor was sculpted from the gods themselves. Your shirts were barely fitting you. I swore they were going to bust one of those class periods.” You imagine the horrified look your peers would give. Not you though, you'd probably start drawing him. Shameless, really.

“As I recall that shirt-busting happened many times by your claws. I had to replace a dozen shirts in a month from how many you destroyed.” A pair of manly hands sensually trace down your sides. Jungkook leans forward, lips near your ear. “Seems like you had a lot of pent-up energy.” He nips your ear before peppering small kisses down your neck.

“You have no idea.“ You close your eyes, a moan escaping from you. "Professor–"

Jungkook grunts, suddenly suckling on the sensitive skin. “Mmm you haven’t called me that in a while. Kinda missed it”, he says, backing you up against the dresser. You were about to hop on top when your ass hit the edge but a rude, obnoxious ringing pulled Jungkook off you.

“Hey man!” Your husband answers the phone, a little too joyous in your opinion. You knew exactly who it was on the phone–Park Jimin. You bite your cheek, doing your best to keep down a sour face.

“Yeah let me ask __. Hold on.” Jungkook looks at you. “Honey, Jimin wants us to go out to dinner with the guys. You wanna go or stay in?”

Maybe, you think. You love Jimin but his dinners are usually quite elaborate. He always makes reservations to the fanciest restaurants in Seoul, and he required everyone to be dressed to the hills. It was fun now and then but did you have the energy for that tonight? Eh. What the hell. “Sure. What time?”

Jungkook passes on your inquiry before looking at you again. “6 p.m.” You nod in consent and walk to your closet, rummaging through your clothes for something Jimin-worthy. “Alright man, we’ll see you there. Yeah got it, k bye.” Jungkook hangs up the phone and watches you pull out dress shirts, pants, blazers, literally all your work clothes. “Found anything?” he pipes up.

You pull out a dark green dress, above knee-length, and gorgeously hemmed. “I’m pretty sure I wore this last time but–“

“Next," Jungkook interrupts. "Jimin will notice and you know how he gets when people wear the same outfit twice in a row.” your husband fiddles with through his own dresser drawers, yanking out an oversized t-shirt. You groan knowing all too well how tight Jimin ran this operation. One time Namjoon came in the same maroon dress shirt as before causing Jimin to have an absolute fit. He even made the man go home and change. Dinner was late that night.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You rummage through your closet again hoping to find something tucked in the back. There’s bound to be something. “Damnit, I thought I had more than this,” you grunt, finding nothing.

“Do we need to go on a last-minute shopping trip?” Jungkook throws on a pair of cargo pants.

You groan internally. Shopping isn't your favorite activity. It always took so long, and nothing was to your liking. You prefer online shopping but with only three hours until dinner and apparently nothing in your wardrobe, you suppose it's inescapable.

“Come on, honey.” Jungkook combs through his hair with a few fingers and grabs his wallet from the nightstand. “This is for Jimin."

"Alright, let me put some jeans on.” Jimin, you bougie little punk.

You view yourself in the dressing room mirror, a plum-colored dress adorning your body. This is the tenth dress you've tried on and to be honest, you feel pretty good in it. Nothing feels itchy, too snug, or out of place. The dress was a simple, strapless sheath dress and it fit you like a glove.

"__." Jungkook taps on the door. "You're not gonna like what I have to say but it's inevitable…there's been a change of plans."

"Okay," you reply with strain. "What is it?" You unlock the door to find your husband glancing down at his phone. It's a text from Jimin, you notice.

"Sorry for this but we're not going out for dinner tonight. Seokjin's daughter isn't feeling well so they're going to stay home. Yoongi also hasn't been able to get much time with his kids and wife lately so he's not coming either." Jungkook continues reading Jimin's text aloud. "I don't think we should go out without the whole party so I'm thinking about canceling our reservations."

Damn.

"You look beautiful," he says, catching your half-disappointed expression. "I'm sorry."

"It's no big deal," you sigh. "We'll eat in." From Jungkook's point of view, you were upset about wasting an hour and a half on shopping. He knew you'd much rather be back with your drawing pencils or watching a drama. He felt bad. The real reason, the one you think best to keep to yourself, however, is that hearing Jimin's text reminded you of Si-woo again. Further, it reminded you that nearly everyone in your friend group had at least one kid except you and Jungkook. Normally it didn't affect you though, so why did it today? Had the little kid from earlier really stuck with you that much?

"__? Everything alright?," Jungkook says. "I know we had plans and we've been shopping for a while but if you like the dress you should still get it. Jimin will have his dinner again and there will be other times you'll need it."

It takes you a moment but you reply, forcing a fake smile the best you can. "Oh yeah, yeah I'm good. I dazed off for a second there. I'll–I'll put the dress back actually."

Seeing through your facade, Jungkook lightly grips your arms. "If there's something you're not telling me I'd like to know, please?"

His endearing facial expression both soothes you and creates coils of nervousness in the pit of your stomach. You want to tell him what's up. You also want to pop the question that you've both been sweeping under the rug for the last two years. But how? Maybe you shouldn't. Maybe you're just in a mood today.

"Have–" You start but the rest of the words don't come out.

Jungkook waits for you to finish the sentence. "Have you thought of any ideas for dinner?" You stutter out. "'Cause I was thinking it’d be easier to order takeout tonight."

Eyes narrowing, your husband stares into your eyes. He's searching for any hint that you're bluffing–shifty eyes and such. You think he's caught onto you until his shoulders relax and eyebrows soften. "I was thinking the same thing. But also, I'm buying you this dress even if you don't. It's gorgeous on you and I know you want it. Now take it off and let's go find something to eat."

You manage to chuckle a "thank you" and slip back into the stall to change into your normal clothes. You feel a slight pang of guilt in your gut for not coming clean to him but you weren't sure if you were ready to tell him the truth no more than he'd be ready to hear it.

“Seriously honey.” Jungkook’s voice carries over the stall. “Are you really alright? Do you need anything?” You swallow hard at his persistence.

“I’m perfectly fine,” you reply. “Maybe a little hungry.” One day at a time __, you think.

You end up placing a dinner order at a local favorite nearby. You and Jungkook take it back to the apartment, curl up on the couch, and put a movie on. You nearly fall asleep after the first forty minutes because the plot is so utterly dry and quite frankly, boring. Jungkook seems to be enjoying it though so the movie plays the entire way through.

Still hardly paying attention, your mind drifts off to other affairs. You think about your upcoming work week, what to get for your best friend's birthday in the following few weeks, and the cute dog you saw yesterday, and of course, you loop back to the same lingering topic–your brief afternoon with Si-woo. Part of you wanted to take him home but Jungkook would have a fit, as well as you know...Si-woo's mother. You snort at how interested you've become in entertaining thoughts about children and taking care of them. As you've covered before, you aren't the mom type.

Si-woo and his mother looked very similar though. They shared the same hair color, eyes, and face shape. You wonder what his father looked. Did he have long hair too? Did he share the same lips? Before you can stop yourself from going further you wonder how identical your own child might be to you and Jungkook. Would your child love the arts like you or the social sciences like your husband? You suppose it could be a blend since you technically have a master's in economics yourself. You'd much rather be owning and operating an art museum or being a studio art professor but that's beside the point. Your child would be free to venture down their own path. That is if you have any.

You shift your eyes to Jungkook who's concentrating heavily on the movie. He's a wonderful husband, you sigh, full of love. No doubt he'd make a great father but did he want to? Jungkook never really mentioned it before and neither did you. When you first start dating you had a brief talk about children and building a family but you were still in school then and Jungkook was swamped with his teaching responsibilities. Children weren't something that either of you felt like you could handle at the time. After you'd gotten married there was an opportunity to discuss it again but you were both quite comfortable with it being just the two of you. Today is the first day you've shown any serious aversion to your comfortable lifestyle–you want a baby.

Once the credit scenes appear Jungkook feels your eyes burn through him from your lounged position. "You're making that face again," he says.

"There's no face."

"Yes there is."

"I don't think so."

Patience running thin, the tone in your husband's voice gets firmer. He's not angry but it's clear his temper is rising. You and Jungkook haven't had a spat in a while and you really don't want to start now. "I can see that there's something on your mind. It's the same one you had from the dressing room and I'm pretty sure it isn't about food this time."

"I don't know what you want me to say," you mumble tiredly. You sit up straight. "My face is my face."

"Honey, I know there's something going on that you're not telling me. Is this about that kid's mother from earlier? Because I'm certain it wasn't personal."

"No, it's not about that at all. It's just been a long week and I'm exhausted," you lie, yawning as if on queue. Jungkook grips the couch arm in agitation. He isn't sure what's going on but he isn't letting you go to bed without getting to the bottom of it.

"You're not having second thoughts about our marriage are you?" He throws the idea out there, hoping its obvious inaccuracy will push you to tell him the truth. You grimace at the guess.

"That's ridiculous!" You sneer. "How could you think that?"

"Well maybe because you're not telling me anything else?" Jungkook tosses his hands up. "I mean who knows, it could be anything. Was it the movie? Shopping? Are you horny? What the fuck is it?!" You jump at his sudden outburst.

"No it's none of those–"

"Look," Jungkook cuts shortly. "Will you just tell me so we can deal with it?!" You throw him a nasty look.

"Just deal with it? Like it's some kind of nuisance of an issue that needs treatment?" You jump up from the couch and head to your bedroom in a fury, your husband hot on your trail.

"I don't mean to be pissing you off, sweetheart but I know something's up." He follows you into the bathroom, watching you reach for your toothbrush. "Can you please slow down and talk to me?" He grabs the toothpaste before you can, forcing you to stop in your tracks. You feel your body starting to shake, eyes tearing up. You friggin' hate fighting and you hate being so unsure about telling him the truth–that you want a family. You're scared of his response most. What if he says no?

Realizing your nervous state, Jungkook takes a deep breath and softens his tone. He hates seeing you cry and he hates it even more when he's the one causing it. "I'm sorry honey." He steps towards you but you flinch away. You're not ready to be touched yet.

"I–I want...I want to be a mom. I want a baby." You wait for your husband's reaction and when it comes you instantly start bawling.

"A baby? What do you mean you want a baby?" Jungkook feels everything inside of him panicking. There's a reason he teaches economics to college students and not high schoolers or below. He doesn't do children, he isn't cut out for it. He'll babysit of his hyung's kids from time to time but at the end of the day, they aren't coming back home with him. Jungkook was sure his wife felt the same way but now? Now she's tearing up in front of him, scared to tell him she wants a child–one that will be his.

Jungkook takes you into his arms, his thumb wipes off some of your tears. "Honey, I'm sorry I didn't know. When you came home from the park I didn't realize that little boy meant so much to you." You try blinking back your tears but they keep running down your face. He's being gentle with you and you appreciate that but his choice of words tells you his answer is no. It's quiet, subtle, and cuts like a knife.

You break away from him to splash cold water on your face. The coolness calms your nerves. “He didn’t. Never–never mind what I said, sorry. I’m tired and I’m probably not thinking straight.” You leave the bathroom, leaving Jungkook scrambling for his thoughts.

A/N: Lmk what you think, tysm for stopping by 💞

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

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oukabarsburgblr · 1 month

Text

drabble...

FEATURING: AITO SOUSUKE (OC), DAISUKE YUICHI (OC) x male reader

"Why the fuck did you come along if you knew you were gonna get scared?"

Sousuke hissed, jabbing his finger into Daisuke's chest who swatted his hand away. "I can go wherever I want? Your house is the furthest from all of us, why the hell would you stay back so late?" The pair were arguing, the moonlight shining through the windows of the dark hallways.

(m/n) and Haru only groaned, as they walked in front of the two. It was already night and they had came back to the academic buildings of the high school they attended. The (h/c) had misplaced his phone in his other bookbag which was in his class, he dragged Haru, his childhood best friend, to accompany him to retrieve it and Sousuke heard and tagged along but Daisuke wasn't going to leave (m/n) and Sousuke alone in a scenario where romantic moments can occur.

Although it would be challenging for the ravenette.

Haru swiped his long blonde bangs back, his bleached eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. "They're so loud. We're going to get caught by the security guards..." He complained and (m/n) whined as he shook his best friend's arm. "We're almost there. Don't leave me with these two idiots."

"How did you even forgot your phone out of all things?" "I don't play my phone all the time. Unlike you-" (m/n) heaved as his chest was smacked by Haru, catching Sousuke's attention.

"Hey! Don't touch him!" Sousuke scowled at Haru who rolled his eyes at him. Daisuke was fussing over the groaning (h/c). This was the norm for the group of third years, doing stupid shit but tonight was a highlight since they were alone during scary hours in an empty school.

Daisuke clinged to (m/n), scared out of his wits as he buried his face into the latter's shoulder, effectively dragging him in their step. "Why is your class so far away?" His hand was trembling lightly as the (h/c) rubbed his arm for comfort but the ravenette was too heavy for him.

"Sousuke, hold him." He pushed the ravenette into the redhead's hold, Daisuke gasping in betrayal as he scrunched his nose at Sousuke. "How could you??" He creened in disgust as he shoved himself away from Sousuke. (m/n) entered his class, pulling Haru as well leaving the pair to stand in the dark halls. The redhead glaring at Daisuke.

"You're a pussy, Daisuke." "Fuck you?? WHAT THE HELL-" He screeched as he instinctively jumped up and grabbed onto Sousuke, the redhead unintentionally holding him as he staggered in surprise. Daisuke had seen something flew past him and under the light it was a huge ass moth.

It wasn't really any better as he screamed while squirming in Sousuke's arms, the latter yelling at him to quiet down, opting to just drop him. Haru and (m/n) exited the class, the latter with his phone in his hand and gazed at the two unimpressed.

"Are you two dating or something..." Haru muttered as he rolled his eyes, leaving the group and (m/n) followed suit, his eyebrows scrunched and his lips frowning and pouting.

"Wait! It's not what it looks like!" Sousuke dropped the ravenette onto the floor and ran after (m/n), blabbering that he had nothing to do with the ravenette. Daisuke cussed and chased after them, not wanting to be left behind and prompted to hit Sousuke in the head resulting in more arguments as they exited the building.

They did get caught by the security guard. (m/n) was not impressed with Daisuke and Sousuke. Haru doesn't want to be friends with them anymore. Sousuke just kept blaming Daisuke and the latter kept talking about a moth??

[END SCENE]

Afterthoughts:

I feel better now. Friend group with daisuke (ravenette), Sousuke (redhead), Onaga Haru (blonde) and (m/n).

Their main story will be set in highschool. I got inspired seeing Kubz Scouts recent video haha

#oukabarsburg #aito sousuke #x male reader #male reader #daisuke yuichi #oc x male reader #oc x reader #male oc

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wildernessuntothemselves · 7 months

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy... | Part 7

A/N: don't even have a summary for this. oc is in love with gyu and gyu is in love with another girl but both are virgin losers and gyu is a horndog who would let oc do what she wants to him just as long as he gets to cum.

Word count: 9.8k

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, dom!reader kinda, riding, blowjob, power play, descriptions of a horror movie, inaccurate portrayal of photographers and creative directors, lots of cute moments

You’re on set with the boys shooting promotional pictures for one of their new songs that Yeonjun insisted you'd be perfect for given your affinity for all things horror. It’s called Frost and the concept for the shoot is supposed to portray guys who are hearing voices in their heads trying to drive them mad and they are attempting to fight against them before ultimately succumbing to them, and so you’re doing shots of them getting swayed by the voices contrasting with others where they express fear about what’s happening to them.

Surprisingly all the boys suit the concept well, even sweet Hyuka was doing a remarkably good job. He was doing this manic laugh and shooting you evil looks that come out really well in the pictures.

“Wow, Hyuka. These are really awesome shots.” You say, showing him the camera and he laughs. “You sound surprised.”

“I actually am. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Well, you know I’m full of surprises, baby.” He winks, flustering you. Who the hell knew he had it in him?

“Don’t flirt with my girlfriend.” Yeonjun scolds, playfully smacking him.

“I’m just messing with her. You should’ve seen the look on her face.” Hyuka laughs his piercing laugh, as mischievous as ever, and you give him an indignant chuckle. “You little shit!”

You raise your hand into a fist, pretending to threaten him, and he bolts, yelling a panicked bye over his shoulder. You shake your head, staring at his retreating form with fondness.

You’re already done with Soobin and Taehyun’s shots, both of whom did really well too, but your favorite so far you have to say is Taehyun’s. The contact lenses you have him wear coupled with his naturally very intense gaze makes it so he doesn’t need to do much to come off as intimidating.

“Is it my turn yet?” Yeonjun asks, kissing your temple.

“No, baby, I’ve saved the best for last.” You coo, never missing an opportunity to compliment him, just so you can see the shy, pleased smile on his face, and he gives you just that. “Beomgyu is next.”

“Oh, are you going to be okay?” His smile falls and concern replaces it instead, making you roll your eyes. “He’s not going to eat me.”

“No, but I’m worried about you. You haven’t really talked to him for a while. Do you want me to come oversee the shoot?”

You kinda do. You are just acting strong for him. Fake it till you make it, right? He can’t hold your hand forever. “Don’t be silly. I know you’re starving. Go eat something and I’ll call you when we’re done.”

“But–” He’s interrupted by his own stomach growling and you laugh, leaning up to kiss him. “Go eat, baby.”

“Okay. I’ll be thinking of you.” He shouts as he leaves, bringing his hands together across his chest and mimicking a heart beating.

You laugh again at his antics, but quickly stop when your gaze lands on Beomgyu. He’s sitting by himself on one of the chairs, eyes glued to his phone and blocking everything else out. You walk towards him, clearing your throat. “Beomgyu. It’s your turn.”

He sighs, pocketing his phone and following you silently. You show him where he needs to stand before getting behind the camera.

“Beomgyu, I want you to lean onto the mirror and look into it, smiling menacingly as if you’re taunting your reflection. We’ll do another one after that of you looking terrified as if you’re trapped in the mirror. So you should play off that. Got it?”

He nods, resting his arm above the mirror and leaning forward, staring at himself with a smile.

“Okay, that’s not really what I’m going for. I’m not feeling any chills. I want a piercing gaze and a crazed smile. Try to have your mouth open as if you’re panting, like you’ve just won a fight. Don’t furrow your eyebrows and don’t tense up your shoulders.”

Beomgyu tries again, leaning his head down so he’s glaring up at the mirror and puts on a lopsided smirk. But you’re still not feeling it.

“You’re putting on an act, Beomgyu. I can see you thinking. I want you to really believe it. Wait.” You walk towards him, reaching up to fix his hair in the way you want. Or more like make it more messy and unhinged. “Let’s just push this over your eyes like this…”

You’re so used to doing this, you don’t even think about it, messing with his hair and making his makeup more smudged, streaking his eyeshadow here and blotting his lipstick there. It’s only when you’re done and realize he has been staring at you that you quickly step back. “There, all good.”

You try again and again with him, but none of the pictures come out like what you had in mind. You don’t get it. He’s usually much better than this. You’ve done plenty of shoots with him before, and he has never given you this much trouble. You keep trying to instruct him but his head doesn’t seem to be in it, too distracted by something else.

Normally, you’d ask him what he’s thinking about that got him so out of it but you don’t think you can. Things are too awkward for you and him right now and you’re not sure if opening that can of worms here is the best idea, which all just makes you even more frustrated.

“Beomgyu, the concept is mad not sad.” You sigh, annoyed after what must be the hundredth bad shot.

“Well, maybe if you gave better directions I would know what to do.” He snaps back, irritating you further. Beomgyu has never criticized your skills before and you don’t exactly take it well, the remark hurting more that it’s coming from him. He has always been a wall of unbending support for you so for him to call you out like this causes cracks in the very foundation of your sense of self worth.

“If my direction was bad then how come all the others had no problem following it?” You hiss, getting defensive to cover the cracks up, but you quickly back down when you see him opening his mouth to retaliate. You’re not going to get into it with Beomgyu right now. You’re at work. You can’t ruin this for yourself.

“Forget it. You’ve already wasted so much time. I’ll get around to you later.” You shut him down and walk off, not giving him the chance to argue.

Were you being short with him? Maybe, but you’ve wanted an opportunity like this for a long time and you were doing so well before him. You need to prove yourself. The boys are gaining more attention every day and this shoot could be really good for your career.

You also have a more personal reason to be snappy with him. After all, he has been avoiding you ever since you’ve admitted that you’ve slept the night with Yeonjun and you’re fucking bitter about that. You don’t understand why he’s acting this way and it’s driving you up the wall. You can take the pain of him not loving you back. You can take the pain of him getting angry at you for stupid reasons. But to ignore you? That you can't bear.

______________________________________

“Yeonjun, I need you to look more sharp. I want you to look at the camera as if you’re going to devour it. Don’t look so sweet. And move your right arm up like this.” You instruct him and he follows your lead flawlessly, so different from Beomgyu, and it slowly eases your nerves and allows you to get back in the mood.

“Good. Keep your head down and look up at the camera with your eyes. Smile a little, no, not too much. We want you to look crazy, but not funny crazy.”

He laughs at that, offended. “Hey!”

You snap a couple of pictures of him laughing. You know, just for your own personal collection. “Sorry, babe. There is such a thing as overdoing it.”

He pouts, acting sulky, and you take pictures of that too.

“What are you doing?” He raises an eyebrow and you blush. “Doing my job?”

“Those pictures would never make it as promotional pictures and you know it.” He calls your bluff and you shrug. “They can make it as my lock screen though.”

“I knew it. You’re so down bad for me.” He laughs and you scowl at him. “Shut up. Be professional.” You demand as if you weren’t using paid time to take pictures of your boyfriend for your own personal use.

“Yes, ma’am.” He salutes you, “Do you think I could play the song on my phone? It might help me get more into the character.”

“Sure, if you think it will help.”

He pulls out his phone and plays the song, closing his eyes for a second like he does before doing a dance routine, Kai’s manic laugh from the song ringing around the room before Yeonjun opens his eyes and looks at you, completely transforming in front of you.

“That’s really good. Keep going.” You encourage. You don’t even have to give him much direction after that, he does it on his own. You just give little modifications here and there but he’s embodying this concept so well by himself.

“Really lost my mind. Really, really, really lost it.” He mouths the words, pressing two fingers to his head in a trigger motion before rolling his head around.

“Remember to look at the camera, baby. Not all the time, I want some shots of you looking away so it seems I’ve caught you in the middle of it.” You keep shooting him, getting in different positions and angles to get the best shots as he gets into the music, channeling the darkness of it through him.

“Now, I want you to snap out of it. Look around as if you’re trying to find the source of the voice.” You instruct and he does it as if a switch had been flipped. He has such a talent for this. “Grab your head and stumble around a bit as if you’re losing your balance. Good.”

“Now look at the camera.” He looks up at you, eyes wide and filled with fear. You take a few shots before you lower the camera down. “Wow, baby, you did amazing. You’re such a good model.” You praise him and he gives you a lovely smile, completely changing his vibe once again and turning into the sweet boy that only you get to see.

You smirk, grabbing his chin and making him look at you. “Does someone like being told he’s a good boy?”

His breath hitches and his smile falls. Shit. You forgot that this is Yeonjun, not Beomgyu. He’s probably not into this. You let go of his chin and step away, an apology on your tongue, but he pulls you back, kissing you. “I do like it. Maybe when we’re done you can show me how much of a good boy I am?”

Relief soothes your racing heart and you reach up to run your hand through his hair, tugging on the bright orange mess. “Only if you behave.” You brush your lips over his neck, making him shiver.

“Guys, really? We have children present.” Soobin complains, pointing to Kai.

“Hey, I’m not a child!” Kai protests in turn, “But I’ll agree to act like a child if it will get those two to stop. Seriously you’re worse than Beomgyu and Haeun."

That last remark makes your face drop real quick. You're lucky Haeun was too busy to come to the shoot today. With how stressed you are, you might've snapped at her and Beomgyu and made a huge scene. You already almost did it with Beomgyu. You’re sure if she was here, you would’ve lost your cool.

“Sorry, guys.” You step away from Yeonjun, clearing your throat. You look at Beomgyu to see him staring right at you and Yeonjun, and if looks could kill, you and Yeonjun would be dead now… wait that’s it! That’s the look you want from him.

“Beomgyu, come with me. I think we can do your shots now.” You motion to him quickly, and Yeonjun gives you a confused look.

“He’s got the look I want from him. Be right back.” You explain to Yeonjun, getting up on your toes and giving him a quick kiss, partly because you love kissing Yeonjun’s plump lips and partly to annoy Beomgyu further and get him more mad in order to get the pictures you want.

___________________________

Things go much more smoothly this time. Beomgyu was giving you just the look you wanted, glaring at you like he actually wants to pounce on you. It’s great for the shoot, but bad for your heart.

“Now give me a smile.” You say and his lips move ever so slightly, shaped into a weird distorted smile that is so tense, it looks like it might snap into a snarl any second now. It’s the exact vibe you were going for and you didn’t even have to instruct him to do it. It was almost too spot on.

“Perfect. Now grab your neck as if you’re trying to claw something out, like you can’t breathe.” Even that he does perfectly, fingers digging into his neck as if he’s not worried about his well-being at all. He’s doing it so well that you only take a few snaps before stepping in to quickly stop him.

“Okay, that’s enough. We’re done here.” You can’t help but walk towards him, pulling his hand off his neck and inspecting the little marks he made there, smoothing your thumb over them as if you could make them go away.

“What, I don’t get a good boy?” He asks and you snap out of your worried daze, stepping back.

“Beomgyu…” You warn, annoyed at yourself for slipping. “Don’t start now.”

“I guess he’s your muse now.” He mutters, looking away, and you follow his gaze to see Yeonjun looking at you.

Is he? Yeonjun is a natural model–he has proven that today–while Beomgyu requires more prompting. Yeonjun is intense and chic while Beomgyu is ethereal and melancholic.They’re completely different from one another. Can you really compare them?

You guess that’s a lie. Yeonjun can embody whatever concept you give him, but Beomgyu inspires you to make new concepts. He’ll always be your muse.

You don’t tell him that though. It would only cause trouble. Instead, you deflect, “We need to do the group shoot now.”

You gather all the boys in one spot, posing them every which way you want, instructing them on where to look, how to stand and what expression to make. It’s a bit overwhelming making sure that they all look good at once, but you’ll have to get used to this if you wanna make a career out of it.

You’re almost done with the shoot and you’re so proud of how all of you have done so far. You just need a couple more pictures and that’s it.

“Soobin, look to the side and tilt your head a little to the right. No more. More. A little less. Yes, perfect! The rest of you stay like you are.” You take a few pictures like this, before you call out again, “Baby, look at the camera”

When you say that, both Yeonjun and Beomgyu turn their heads to face you, and an awkward moment of silence passes before you stutter, “Yeonjun… I mean. Look at the camera, Yeonjun.”

“Awkward…” Hyuka sings and Taehyun elbows him in the stomach.

You brush right past it, pretending that it didn’t even happen. Though your stammering and blushing doesn’t fool anyone. Thankfully though, it’s all over soon.

“Okay, boys, that’s it. We’re done!” You cheer, exhausted but happy and confident that you’ve gotten all the pictures you needed. “Anyone want to see some of the photos?”

They all gather to look at them with varying degrees of enthusiasm. As you scroll through the pictures, they oh and ah at their own shots while making fun of the others for any awkward ones. You expected nothing less from them.

“Hey, how come your boyfriend got all the best shots?” Soobin grumbles, and you roll your eyes. “He got all the good shots because he posed the best out of all of you.”

“Bullshit.” Taehyun interjects and Hyuka agrees, “Nepotism is what it is.”

“Shut up, Kai. That’s not even what nepotism means.”

“Oh yeah, then how come you gave him the best set and accessories?” He challenges and Yeonjun wraps his arm around you, “So what if she favors me? Are any of you giving it to her good every night? I don’t think so.” Yeonjun boasts, making you blush deeply.

Whatever reply you were going to make gets cut off by Beomgyu slamming his drink down and storming off.

“Someone’s in a pissy mood.” Taehyun mutters and Kai adds, “Probably pissed off that all the good shots went to the photographer’s boyfriend.”

“Drop it, Kai.” Yeonjun snaps and the younger guy raises his hands up in surrender.

“Ignore them, baby. I think all the shots are stunning.” Yeonjun says, holding you.

“You really think so?”

He nods, rubbing your arms soothingly, before grinning. “But mine are the best, of course.”

“You’re all assholes.” You grumble, pushing him away but inside you’re thankful he diffused the awkward situation.

“Let me make it up to you. You wanna grab something to eat? I’ll buy you your favorite fried crap.” He offers and you clap, excited. “Oh, yum!"

“Can I come too, baby?” Kai asks, making kissy faces at you before running away as Yeonjun takes off his shoe and throws it at him.

_________________________

“Junnie?” You call out and he blinks, looking up at you. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet for a while now.”

“I’m just a bit worried.” He sighs, making you frown. “About what?”

“I think we’re really close to being signed. We’re having promising talks with a couple of record companies and the whole process is really stressed out.”

“But isn’t it a good thing?” You ask, confused. Didn’t the boys want to be signed for a long time? Is he having second thoughts?

“It is, but we all know the stories of artists getting scammed by companies and having their masters stolen, or having their creativity stifled by the execs, or losing their sound… as the front man I really wanna make sure to do this right. I don’t want to let my members down.”

“Oh, Junnie, I know you’ll do your best.” You reach out to grab his hand, squeezing in comfortingly. He’s such a good hyung to his members, always so reliable and trying to make everything easier for them so they don’t have to stress like him. “But you can’t put all of this on your shoulders only. The boys need to contribute to the decision too. After all, it’s their future too.”

“I know but it really bums them out thinking about all this. They’re here for the music, you know? Not the corporate dance.”

“Neither are you. They’re big boys. They can handle it. They need to do this too. They need to take on part of the responsibility.” Your hand moves up his arm, stroking it. It’s not fair for him to take on all this burden by himself. Besides, it’s not good in the long run. The boys need to make a joint decision or conflict and blame could arise later. “I can’t have you losing your hair over this. I don’t really like bald guys.”

Yeonjun gives you a betrayed look. “Hey! Are you saying you won’t be with me if I was bald?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” You confirm and he scoffs, pretending to be offended. “You’re so fake.”

“Probably. But I took your mind off it for a second there.” You tease, using the same trick he used on you when you were crying.

“I think you’re gonna need to do a lot more to take my mind off it.” He tells you suggestively and you roll your eyes.

“Eat your heart attack-inducing food first, then we’ll talk.”

He grabs a drumstick and bites off a piece of it like he’s in a cartoon, making you burst out laughing.

"You know what I noticed?" He asks after chewing his food, and you hum in acknowledgement, prompting him to go on, "Your style has changed since we've started dating. It's become edgier and more trendy. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to impress me."

You blush, feeling caught. "Good thing you know better then."

"Well, since I know better, I won't say that I would find it really cute if you were trying to impress me or that it would make me feel really special."

"Well, if I were doing it to impress you, it would be because you're really special.” You say sincerely, looking him right in the eyes, before shrugging, “Luckily, this is all hypothetical."

You continue to stare at him as he laughs.

“What?” He asks, and you tell him, "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" He gives you a confused look.

"Laughing in that adorable way that makes your nose scrunch up and makes me wanna tackle you to the ground and kiss you all over your stupid face."

What happens next is so groundbreaking, you almost can't believe your eyes. You actually make him blush. And your stupid heart that has been beating non-stop for Beomgyu, falters in its incessant pace a second to let Yeonjun in.

___________________________

It’s going good with Yeonjun. Despite the flirty and confident persona he portrays for his fans, behind closed doors he’s shown you many sweet and shy moments. He’s attentive to you despite how busy he is with his career and his clear passion for music. And he’s really, really sexy.

Yes, his flirtiness can make you feel insecure sometimes and it does make you wonder if he’ll get sick of you one day and jump to someone prettier and new like guys in a band so often do, but you think you could overcome that feeling with time. You’re just being insecure. It’s part of his job. He’s not actually this cocky playboy. He has to act that way to bring in the fans.

Except he kind of is a playboy. He has dated many other girls before you and he has broken up with all of them. Who is to say that that won’t happen to you too soon? Who knows when he’ll get sick of you? Maybe he’s just waiting to scope out his next girlfriend before breaking up with you.

No, you’re being paranoid. He’s just entertaining his fans. It means nothing. Just because he dated a lot before you, doesn’t mean you’re just another notch on his belt. This doesn’t mean anything, especially not his innocuous interactions with his fans.

Yeah, you’re not bothered at all watching him deliver not-so-subtle pick up lines to his horde of fangirls and watching them giggle and swoon over him. You don’t care that he lets them touch him and hug him. You don’t even notice the panties they throw on stage for him or that they ask him to sign their bras. It’s all good.

“You okay, doll?” Yeonjun throws his arm around you, nudging you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t let me keep you from your girlfriends.” You mutter, pushing his arm off, and storming off. Okay, maybe you are a little bothered.

You hear footsteps behind you and quicken your pace but he catches up to you eventually. Damn his long legs. “Hey, hey, what was all that about?”

“This may come as a shock to you but I don’t exactly enjoy you flirting with other women.” You grit, your anger bubbling up in your stomach and forming acid around your bitter words.

“You know I’m just doing my job.” He defends himself and you scoff. “Your job is singing. Not getting their panties wet.”

“That is still part of the job. You think all those successful bands don’t get where they are by appealing to the fangirls? You really think it’s just about the music?” He may have a point but that doesn’t make you feel any better about his behavior. At the end of the day he is still acting inappropriately around girls who aren’t his girlfriend. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry. Want me to go invite some of them back to your room for some quality fanservice?”

He laughs at that, and it’s far from the sweet laugh you adore. “You have no right to act jealous. Not when I have to watch you everyday staring longingly at your best friend. Your best friend who you live with and have messed around with before by the way. How do I know you won’t fall to your knees the moment he asks you to suck him off?”

"Fuck you, Yeonjun." You tear up at the unexpected attack, and turn around to leave. You can't believe he is throwing this in your face.

“Wait. I’m sorry.” He holds you back, brushing your hair away from your face and seeing the tears budding in your eyes. “I don’t mean to be an asshole. I know you don’t like the way I act but it’s my job. My livelihood depends on it. I’m not doing it just for fun. You know that.”

You look away, conflicted. Yes, you do know but that doesn’t make it suck any less. “Do you have to let it go that far though?” You pout, images of your boyfriend with his arm around random girls or letting them touch his face or hold his hand flashing behind your eyelids.

“I will try to tone it down.” He concedes and you finally look at him. “No letting them kiss you?”

“No.”

“No sexual innuendos?”

“No.”

“No signing their bras?”

“So just their breasts?”

You go to leave but he pulls you back flush against his body. “I’m kidding.” He kisses you and you reluctantly let yourself fall into the kiss. God, why do you pick the hardest boys to love?

Speaking of which…

“And I’m sorry for what I said about Beomgyu. I trust in you not to do that just as you trust in me not to cheat. But I’m not sorry about the part where I don’t like you living together.”

“What?” Your frown. What is he trying to say?

“You’re in love with the guy. Living with him won’t allow you to move on. You need to move away from him to let us move on.” He clarifies, not really making it easier for your brain to compute.

“Oh."

"We can never move forward in our relationship if you're holding onto him." He presses, seeing your resistance to his words. “Come live with me. Leave whatever this thing you have with him in the past and take the next step with me.”

"But he's my best friend. We promised each other we'd stay together." You say as if that means anything to him, and the look he gives you is what an adult would give to a naive child thinking their family pet really went to live on a farm. "Are you going to live together even when both of you are married?"

"No. But it's too fast. He's so freaked out about everything changing. This is gonna send him into a breakdown." You resist still, maybe because some of what you’re saying applies to you too. You’re not sure if you’re ready to do this.

"Don't you think that's a little weird?” Yeonjun challenges your statement, forcing you to examine your unusual situation with Beomgyu for the first time. “You two have an unhealthy attachment to each other. You’re not together and believe me no boyfriend or girlfriend is gonna tolerate how you two are acting. I know I can't."

But you can’t think about it too deeply right now, not on the spot like this, not when there is a plain threat in his words. "Are you giving me an ultimatum?"

"No. I'm just asking you to set some boundaries."

Is that the same thing? You sigh. "Can you… just give me some time to think it through?"

Yeonjun doesn’t like that. "You know I'm right."

"Please."

What he’s asking you is huge. With how Beomgyu isn’t talking to you, moving out of the apartment might spell complete doom to your friendship, and you don’t know if you are ready to risk that yet. Maybe you can work it out while still living with Beomgyu. Maybe you can find a way to move forward with Yeonjun while still retaining your friendship with Beomgyu.

"Fine." Yeonjun backs down for now, but this is clearly not the end of it.

____________________

When you get home, you find a strange surprise waiting for you… A pillow fort?

"What's this?" You ask Beomgyu suspiciously and he beams at you, pulling you towards the structure he made. "Come on in. Come on in!"

You let him take you inside with him, seeing it lined with pillows and soft fuzzy blankets and all kinds of snacks you could ever need. The only light illuminating the inside coming from the small laptop filled with movies for you to watch.

"What's all this for?" You ask, very confused at the sudden change in his attitude. What has gotten into him?

"Well, I know I've been an ass–"

You don't mean to snort but you can’t help it–interrupting him–and he shoots you glare, albeit a playful one.

"I know I've been an asshole," He repeats, not deterred. "But I was worried about what Yeonjun was gonna do to you and I was frustrated you weren’t listening to me. I’ve seen him blow through girlfriends many times before–maybe not in a way that is meant to intentionally hurt them but he just doesn’t seem to be ready for something serious yet. It always seemed like the girls were way more into him than he was into them and that eventually leads to the relationship breaking down and the girls getting hurt and I didn’t want that to happen to you. I didn’t want you to get hurt like that.”

His words echo your own doubts. You’ve been wondering about this exact yourself. Yeonjun is great. He’s fun and sweet and he makes you smile, but if you let yourself fall for him, will he be able to love you too?

Is that even a fair question to ask? Doesn’t everyone go into relationships not knowing if the other person will end up liking them the same amount? And can you really be the one wondering about this when you’re the one in love with your best friend?

You don’t say anything though, just letting Beomgyu continue, curious about where he is going with this. “But in my attempt to try to prevent that I've stupidly gone and hurt you myself. I got angry and vindictive and I lost sight of what I was trying to do… I also was being selfish because I didn’t want to lose you to him. I’m so used to it just being the two of us and it made me a little jealous that suddenly he’s taking all your time and attention. I used to be your number one guy.”

You look at his pout, trying miserably to fight down the tears his words are springing up. He is still your number one. That’s the problem.

“You said all of this already.” You say quietly, looking down and trying to hide your glossy eyes from him.

“I know, but what I didn’t say is that I don't know if Yeonjun will stay like this forever or if he's going to break your heart and force me to cut his balls off, but I wanna be there regardless.” He proclaims, sounding exactly like the best friend you terribly missed, the obvious joke not taking away from the seriousness of what he’s saying. “I don’t want to lose you over this. I want us to go back to how we were before all this mess. Do you think we can do that?"

You look up at him, his pretty face shimmering and swimming around in your tearful vision, making his already ethereal features appear celestial. He looks at you as if you could ever deny his request. How can you ever say no to him?

"Yes, Beommie." You finally say, letting the tears fall.

"Hey, hey…" He coos, grabbing your face and kissing your tears away. "Don't cry. You know seeing you cry will just make me cry too."

“I can’t help it. I missed you, you idiot.” You wail, and he pulls you into his arms, rocking you back and forth and rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I missed you too. So much. You don’t even know.” You hear his voice falter and you know he’s crying too.

You stay there for a while–you don’t know how long–until you and him have calmed down enough to be able to string together words again. He’s the first to pull back, but only so he can look you in the eyes.

“You look so pretty when you cry.” He whispers, wiping your tears away and you cover the way your heart skips a beat at that with a cough, pushing him away to give yourself room to breathe in something that isn’t him.

“Shut up.” You mumble, wiping your tears away with your sleeve before looking around awkwardly, trying to change the subject. “So what movies do you have for us?"

Thankfully, Beomgyu follows your lead. "Top gun of course!'

You groan.

"I'm kidding. I'm kidding. I got you one of those foreign horror movies you love so much." He shows you that he chose a French movie called Martyrs.

"Aw, you really do love me." You exclaim, covering your heart with your hand.

“I know. I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” He mutters, sitting down and motioning for you to do the same. You sit down next to him, leaving a small gap between you.

“Hey, what are you doing?” He asks, and you look at him in confusion. He rolls his eyes and opens his arms to you. “You can’t have Movies and Cuddles Monday without the cuddles.”

You hesitate for a second, wondering if you really should do this. Is this too intimate? Would this be considered cheating on Yeonjun?

No, you’re being ridiculous. People cuddle with their best friends all the time. You can do that.

“Right.” You get into his embrace, and he holds in in both arms.

“Okay, let’s start the massacre.”

_____________________________

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” Beomgyu groans, burying his face in your neck as screen shows the main lead being flayed alive.

“Well, don’t do it on me!” You squeak, trying to pull away to hide the goosebumps that have erupted on your skin when his lips brush against you, but he’s holding onto you too tightly. “Don’t go. You made me see this. I’m traumatized.”

“You’re the one who picked the movie.”

“Because I wanted to satisfy your blood thirst.” He mumbles and you laugh. “I don’t even like gore. I prefer the subtly creepy.”

“Yeah like that game you like where the character takes a pill and entrails fall from the sky.”

“Hey, entrails can be subtle.” You grumble, relaxing back in his arms. “Now shut up. I wanna see the ending.”

Beomgyu sits in silence, holding onto you tightly as the character called Mademoiselle leans over the flayed woman to hear what she has to say after achieving martyrdom. You watch with bated breath, not feeling any of the anxiety you’re supposed to feel as the cult members ask the Mademoiselle what the main character told her–too relaxed with the way Beomgyu massages your scalp with his fingers. If you were a cat, you’d be purring right now.

Even Beomgyu keeps his mouth shut as the Mademoiselle grabs a gun and shoots herself, taking the secret with her to the grave–the both of you seeming to be in a trance. It’s only when the credits roll does he speak up.

“I can’t believe they didn’t tell us the secret to the afterlife.” Beomgyu complains softly, not making any move to disentangle you from his arms,and neither do you.

“Yeah right, like they would tell us the secret to the afterlife.” You snort at your naive friend, “Besides the movie isn’t about that.”

“Yeah, and what is it about, genius?” He challenges.

“Um, it’s clearly about the exploitation of the working class so the rich can achieve knowledge and even more power–no it’s about the exploitation of women of the working class.”

“You just pulled that out of your ass.”

“Maybe. But that could be right.” You shrug, your shoulder once again brushing against his lips. “Do you have a better theory, idiot?”

“Yeah, my theory is that the director just wanted to make the most disgusting movie possible and made up this whole martyrdom story to justify the torture inflicted on the characters, and that’s why he couldn’t come up with an actual answer to what happens after death.”

“Maybe that’s the point. We were never meant to know the answer. Knowing the answer renders life and its struggles meaningless. That’s why the Mademoiselle killed herself.”

“Or maybe Anna told her a lie that she knew would fuck her up and get her to kill herself. Perfect revenge.”

“That doesn’t make sense. At the start of the movie we see that when Lucy got revenge on one of the families, it still wouldn’t make her guilt go away so clearly the movie views revenge as a non-viable option.”

“Hey, when did you become so smart? I thought Movies and Cuddles Monday was supposed to be about mindless consumption of media and making stupid jokes about plots we’re not smart enough to comprehend.” He looks at you in suspicion and you meekly answer, “I may possibly have started reading some books–”

He gasps. “Books? Dear lord, save us.”

“You’re just worried you’ll stay the only dumb one.” You poke his nose teasingly and he tries to bite your finger, making you withdraw it with a giggle.

“Doesn’t matter. Smarts are for ugly people. I’m too pretty.”

You smile fondly. “Yes, you are.”

He wraps his arms around you even tighter, letting out a small contented hum as the credits roll, neither of you moving to start another movie or turn off the computer. How can you when it makes you feel so safe and content, like you could want for nothing else in the world as he strokes your hair with one hand and your arm with the other.

Every emotion you've been working so hard to smother comes roaring back. And you realize that you and Beomgyu are not just friends. Probably can never be just friends. This is why Yeonjun insisted you move out. You can't be this close to Beomgyu without falling back into your old habits. If you wanna give Yeonjun an honest chance, you need to get some space.

“Beomgyu… do you ever think about living with Haeun?”

He frowns. “Why? Did she say anything to you?” You almost laugh at his look of terror. Almost. If you weren’t so terrified of what you have to say to him.

"Yeah she told me on one of our weekly get togethers." You snort, then hesitate. “It’s just… Yeonjun wants me to move in with him.”

He pulls away from you, face hardening, and your body is suddenly left defenseless against the cold chill in the air. "What did you tell him?"

You want to tell him that you said No. You want him to take you back in his arms. Even if he doesn’t love you back, this can be enough for you, right? "I said I'd think about it."

"Think about what? This is way too soon. You can't just move in with him. What if you break up? Then you'd be left homeless because you were so stupid as to move in with a guy you've only been dating a few months."

His anger is like lashings to your cold skin. Why does he keep doing this to you, making you let your guard down before attacking you once more? Does he not know how hard this is for you too? "Beomgyu, you said you weren't going to be an asshole anymore."

"I just don't understand why you'd do something like that." His frustration is palpable. He is looking at you as if you’re just doing this to hurt him.

"Because Yeonjun doesn't like me living with you after we messed around."

You shouldn't have said that. That just makes him angrier. "And you’re just going to do whatever he tells you to do? Are you one of those girls who does everything her boyfriend tells her?"

His accusation pisses you off. He’s treating you like you’ve committed a crime for wanting to move forward with your boyfriend. "No, but he has a right to be weirded out by us living together. I know I wouldn't be happy about him living with a girl he hooked up with."

"Oh yeah, and what's next? He's too weirded out by us hanging out? Talking? Looking at each other?"

"You're being overdramatic."

"Am I?" He shouts, “This is why I didn’t want you to date him. He is taking you from me.”

The fucking audacity for him to say this as if he hasn’t been terrible to you ever since you started even expressing interest in Yeonjun. This would never have happened if he had been an actual goddamn friend to you.

“He isn’t taking me from you. You’re pushing me away.”

“You know he’s only going to hurt you?” He says, hitting you right where it hurts. It’s one thing for you to doubt your relationship with Yeonjun, but it’s another thing entirely for your friend and his to keep telling you that it’s never gonna last.

Does he really have no faith in you? Does he not think you’re pretty enough, good enough to keep yeonjun’s attention? Does he think it’s impossible for Yeonjun to actually love you?

You start tearing up again. "Why are you being like this?"

“Because it’s what he is. You’re making a huge mistake. You're choosing this guy you just started dating over our years of friendship."

You shake your head. "Why does it have to be either or. Why can’t I have my boyfriend and my best friend?"

He lets out a condescending laugh. “I’m not the one making you choose!”

But he is. He has been making you choose since the beginning. He just doesn’t like it because for once you’re not putting him and his ridiculous demands first.

“He is not making me choose.” You defend Yeonjun and yourself. “He just doesn’t want us to live together.”

“You really think he’ll end it at that? You don’t think he’ll demand more bit by bit? Next it will be ‘I don’t like him touching you.’ then it will be ‘don’t hang out with him so much’ and then ‘why do you even need to see him. We can just stay in.’ and before long he’ll have completely phased me out!”

“Well maybe there should be some boundaries. We did hook up together. It’s normal for him to feel insecure. And maybe we’re a bit more touchy than other friends are. Maybe I should only be cuddling with my boyfriend and that only my boyfriend should be kissing me…” You’re saying this more to yourself than to him. Even what happened earlier wasn’t really appropriate. It could be for completely platonic friends but you know that’s not what you and Beomgyu are. Not for you, at least.

“See? It’s already happening!” He exclaims, and you sigh. There is no point arguing with him. He’s too upset to see reason. “I’m sorry, Beomgyu…”

"Forget it. Forget all of this." He stands up and takes the pillow-fort apart. "Enjoy living with your boyfriend."

__________________

You quickly gathered a few essential items that you'll need along with a change of clothes before you texted Yeonjun to come pick you up. You'll get the rest of your stuff later. You just can’t handle being in this house anymore.

"Are you okay?" Yeonjun asks when you get into his car.

"Yeah, it's just Beomgyu is really mad at me." You sniffle, trying to hold back your tears.

"Of course. That fucking idiot." Yeonjun curses and you agree. "Such an idiot."

"Want me to go beat him up?" He offers but you shake your head. "I really don't think you two having a cat fight is gonna lift my spirit up."

"Hey!" He shouts, offended, but he can't help but give you a smile–his sweet smile that you love so much.

"But that might." You smile back, wiping your nose before bending over to give him a kiss.

"Didn’t know I'd be eating snot today." He says as he pulls back and you smack him. "I wiped before I kissed you!"

He laughs and tries to kiss you again but you push him away. "No. I've revoked your right to kisses."

“Is that so?” He quirks an eyebrow up and you nod, indignant.

"And what if I told you I have some great news that will make you wanna kiss my face off?"

“What?” You look suspiciously at the massive grin on his face. "You know the director of Elements magazine?"

"Do I? Of course! She's one of my inspirations." You gush, excited at what he could possibly have to say about her.

"Well, I've been talking to her about you–"

"What?” Your face falls, terrified. “What–what would you talk to her about me for?"

"She's interested in your work." He tells you and you give him an unflattering snort in disbelief. "Yeah, right. What do I have to show her?"

"She's actually seen the shoot you did with us and would like you to send her more of your stuff because she thinks she may want you to do a pictorial for the magazine."

“Shut up.” You gape at him. You? Do a pictorial for Elements magazine? "Oh god, I think I'm gonna pass out."

“Please, don’t. I don’t know how I’d be able to explain why I have a passed out girl in my car to anyone who saw.”

You shoot him a glare, but there is no heat behind it. "How do you even know her?”

"I've done some modeling for her before." He shrugs as if that isn’t a big fucking achievement, "I told you, networking is everything."

"You're amazing." You breathe out in awe.

"I know." He replies confidently and you suddenly shriek, kicking your feet in excitement. "Oh my god, I can't believe she liked my stuff!"

"Why wouldn't she? You’re great." You turn to him, a huge smile on your face before you bend over the console and give him a big kiss. "You are so getting laid."

"That's why I did it." He jokes, starting the car before pulling out of the parking spot.

___________________

"Welcome home." Yeonjun says, putting your bag down in his bedroom.

Yeah, you guess this is home now. You look around, trying to process the fact, and Yeonjun comes up behind you to wrap his arms around you. “You can redecorate a bit if you want. I’ll give you a whole corner of the room.”

You turn around in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck. “You’re very generous.” You kiss him slowly, deepening the kiss as you go, pushing your tongue into his mouth as your lips move against each other. “My good boy.”

“Oh, are we doing this?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“You deserve it.” You push his jacket off before slipping his white tank top over his head. As soon as his chest is bare, you attack your lips to it, kissing it all over. Your lips tingle as it comes in contact with his warm skin over and over again and you feel his little moans vibrating through his chest as he slowly gives into the pleasure, shivering a bit when you wrap your lips around one of his nipples.

Your hands trail down his body, grabbing at his waist on the way, kneading it, before moving to his pants. You unbutton and unzip them slowly, rubbing the back of your hand over the bulge there, making his breathing stutter.

“Baby…” He pouts at your teasing, and you lean up to give his pretty lips a kiss.

“Want it, darling?” You ask, continuing to brush your hand over him teasingly and he nods. “Okay. Just because you’ve been so good to me.”

You put your hand in his boxers and pull out his cock, stroking it to full hardness while kissing his addictive lips.

“You’re so good to me, Yeonjun. You deserve to be pampered.” You tell him, twisting your hand over the head of his cock as your lips go down his neck and along his chest until you have to get on your knees to go further. You kiss his abs gently before opening your mouth and giving his skin a playful nip which makes him jump.

“Hey, that’s not pampering.” He protests and you laugh, licking the reddening spot soothingly as you continue to tease his dick with your hand.

“I was just thinking about how you seduced me with this at the party.” You tell him and he grins. “So I was–ahh–right? It was my rock–fuck–hard abs that got you?”

It’s hard for him to keep a straight face when your fingers are twisting so sinfully around his hard cock. “Maybe I ran into you on purpose t-to–shit–give me the chance to take off my shirt in front of you.”

“Diabolical.” You hum, kissing all over his tummy, getting closer and closer to his aching cock before moving up again, just to tease him, then repeating the process all over again until he starts dripping in need.

“Baby, please…” He finally calls out when he becomes so needy that your palm gets all sticky with his arousal.

“I got you, baby.” You finally take him into your mouth, the taste of him familiar by now.

Over the few months you’ve been dating Yeonjun, you’ve gotten very acquainted with what he likes and how he likes to be touched. You learn what makes him tick and where he is sensitive. It’s no longer entirely nerve-wracking to be with him. There are some things you can do and say that you can rely on that are guaranteed to get him in the mood

But today is different. You’ve never tried to take the lead from him before. In a way, you’re both more confident and more nervous–more confident because you know how to do this better, you’ve done this a lot with Beomgyu… and more nervous because you’ve never done it with Yeonjun. What if he doesn’t like it?

Your movements are slow, meant to tease and build up rather than push him over the edge. Your tongue swirls slowly around his flushed head and laps up any precum leaking from his slit while your thumb and index finger make a circle around his cock and slowly move up and down the bottom of his shaft, working him up until he’s begging again.

“More–please, I need more.” He breathes, voice tight and needy.

It’s a lot different from Beomgyu… If it was Beomgyu, he’d be crying and whining loudly, his mouth spouting off all kinds of filth in an attempt to get you to throat his dick. He’d be squirming and trying to push his dick further down your mouth, bucking his hips into your hand so you’d jerk him off faster…

But Yeonjun is not Beomgyu. He stands there, as still as he can, and lets you do what you want.

Only interrupting with a quiet plea when he can’t take it anymore. Is that better? Is it worse? You don’t know. All you know is that you need to get Beomgyu out of your mind, stop comparing them. Yeonjun is yours, Beomgyu is not. Yeonjun is here for you to touch and taste and feel, Beomgyu isn’t. Yeonjun has opened his heart up to you, and it’s insulting to think of another guy when you’re with him.

So you get off your knees and kiss Yeonjun, letting yourself focus on him and only him. You push the rest of his clothes off his body, and let him do the same to you, letting his hands wander and squeeze and caress as he does so–because you’re his.

You lead him towards the bed, pushing him on it and climbing on top of him, lining yourself up with his hard cock before catching his gaze, seeing the way he lies still and waits for you to do, before you sink down on him.

He lets out a deep sigh when you’re seated on his hips, his cock buried all the way inside you.

“This what you wanted, darling?”

He nods, resting his hands on your thighs, not pushing or pulling, just letting you take your time. Is it a sign of patience and letting you take the lead or is it a lack of passion and indifference? These are the thoughts that plague you.

But you’re too much of a coward to ask, so you just lift yourself up and fall down on his cock, establishing a steady rhythm. He lets out quiet moans and pants, responding to the way your hips move and your pussy works over his cock, his eyes alternating from staring at your form to rolling into the back of his skull when the pleasure becomes too much.

“Is it good?” You ask and he nods. “So good.”

Still restrained. Still subdued. But you take it. You take it and you run with it, bouncing faster on his cock, your gaze stuck to his face, eating up every little twitch and sigh that escapes him, so focused on him that you neglect your own pleasure, only noticing when his right hand brushes up your thigh and his thumb grazes your clit.

“What are you doing, baby?” You ask, hand circling around his wrist but not pulling it away.

“Don’t wanna cum alone. Want you with me.”

Is it really you domming him if he can still do whatever he wants? You don’t know but you don’t have to decide right now. You can just take it slow. You can work things out the kinks bit by bit.

“That’s a bit quick, don’t you think?” You venture to tease him, hoping he’d give you the response you’re looking for, and he does… somewhat. “Can’t help it. You just look so sexy bouncing on my cock. You should dom me every day.”

You groan, thighs burning as you ride him faster, needing him to really mean it. “Don’t talk like that.”

“Like what?” He purrs, his thumb still circling your sensitive nub.

“Like you’re still in control.” You finally push his hand away, pinning his arms next to his head, but maddeningly, he just smirks up at you.

“You want the control, you’re going to have to take it, doll. I am not going to just show my belly and give you the lead so easily.”

“You’re insufferable.” You hold his wrists with one hand and use the other to wrap around his throat, not cutting off his circulation but just holding it tight enough to make a point.

“That’s more like it.” He gasps, craning his head back to give you an easier purchase on his neck. “I’m close.”

“Why should I let you cum?” You challenge, digging your fingers just a little more into his neck, clenching your pussy just a little tighter around his cock.

“Because you like it when I empty my balls inside your little pussy.” He sucks in a sharp breath, his control slipping just a little bit, and you latch onto that.

“I do like it, but what I like more is making bad boys cry.” You threaten, slowing down your movement until you’re barely riding him. “I’m sure it would feel just as good getting off your cock and making myself cum on my fingers. Just seeing your needy cock all hard and red with no relief would be more than enough to get me off.”

He frowns. “You wouldn’t…”

You make a show of getting off his cock and he quickly cries out. “No, wait. Okay. You win. I’ll be good.”

You raise an eyebrow at him before going back to riding him fast, not giving him the chance to challenge you again. “Well, that was easy.”

He does well by shutting up this time, his full lips pulled into a hilarious pout.

“Are you close?” You ask him when his eyebrows begin to furrow and he nods. You let go of his wrist, telling him to keep them there as if you could’ve stopped him if he wanted to overpower you.

You use your now free hand to rub your clit, pushing yourself towards your own high.

Yeonjun doesn’t like that. “I could do that for you.”

He tries to reach out to touch you but you let go of his throat and swat his hands away. “No. Only good boys get to touch.”

He gives you a little whine–a semblance of what you crave from him. Maybe the rest will come in time.

“I’m close.” You tell him, fingers desperately moving over your pussy as you ride him. “Want you to cum with me.”

He nods, his hips moving for the first time under you, helping the both of you over the edge.

“Yeonjun–fuck!” You throw your head back, eyes squeezed tight as your body shudders with release. Yeonjun hands reach out to hold your hips flush against his as he empties himself inside you, a long groan slipping from his pretty lips.

“Fuck.” You gasp, falling down when your orgasm leaves you, and Yeonjun opens his arms to take you in, holding you close to him, your hearts beating rapidly still.

This whole day has been an emotional rollercoaster for you, and the release of pent up energy leaves you spent, your body all but becoming boneless in Yeonjun’s embrace.

He kisses the top of your head, his hand smoothing through your wet hair as the both of you catch your breath. You feel your eyelids getting heavy with exhaustion, the heat of his embrace now a familiar night-time companion, and you find yourself drifting off to sleep.

"Thank you again for choosing me for the Frost shoot." You mumble, eyes closed. He may have just changed the whole trajectory of your career.

"No need to thank me. It was all Beomgyu's idea."

____________________

A/N: one more chapter to go. as always your feedback makes me update faster so don't be shy to drop in a message. the author note in the last chapter will contain a link to my patreon for the alternative ending for the losing boy so look forward to that

and for the final time

Taglist: @blxxsss@sanasour@tinkw1nks@lol6sposts@zuzuhasablog@beomsl@seolis-world @stantxtorurmissingout@wonwooz1@yaorzu-blog@allylikesdabee@rkivezzs@malieno@leviathanlee26@yomomas-stuff@kurisaiyunobara@girlwholovekpop@zuzuhasablog @viaaasdiary @ho3forkpop@skzvcr @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @izzyexe @boomfrogg @kpop-cakepops-recs @chronicallygyu @girlwholovekpop

#txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #fem!reader #dom!reader

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 7 months

Note

Hello! Recently I've been reading your works (usually twst, disney and sometimes oc) and im really interested.

I would like to request yandere cinderella x reader please if thats okay!

Im not sure if there is any request rules i should follow since i cant really find any or if its open so sorry if i broke any of them! Btw no need to answer this if you aren't interested or dont have the energy, im just curious in how you would write them since they are very unique and nicely written. Remember please take care of yourself and take rest when you need to!! (since you literally post almost everyday)

I try I do post everday, though I'm surprised anyone noticed 🖤🖤🖤

Yandere Genderbend Cinderella x Reader

To say you didn’t like you’re step-brother would be an understatement.

You hated him.

Him and all that he stood for.

It was disgusting, how wicked Ellwick was to you and your family. Not wicked in the way that he looked down on you; more so in the way that his existence was an obstacle to yours. Currently he made it his mission to insert himself where he never belonged, constantly upending your rightful place. You remembered the time before the single father and son duo shoved their way into your family’s lives. It was peaceful, well as peaceful as life with your family could be. Guns, knifes, drugs, cement shoes–the life that meant serving your family and running the city from behind the scenes. Your mother, your brother, and the many associates that joined your family.

What can you say? Blood is binding especially when spilt.

Cinder Ellwick and his father came into your home under the silly notion of ‘healthy’ love. As if fighting alongside one another wasn’t love, these men marched into your lives expecting to ‘fix’ your already perfect family.

Your brother and the many others could spot the foolishness in their morale, unfortunately your mother could not. Which devastated her the moment her new husband got his rightful comeuppance.

“He shouldn’t have joined the game, if he didn’t know how to play.”

Your brother scoffed under his breath during your mother’s mournful eulogy. You couldn’t help but agree. Only irritating you more when your mother dressed in black brought the blonde-headed boy to you two saying something along the lines of him being a permanent burden on your family.

“It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

So what? It was his fault for getting involved! His fault for getting kidnapped! His fault for refusing to arm himself, when you warned him! So why did you, your family, have to live with the nuisance?

“I’m going to try my best, to be apart of this family. Properly this time.”

“That’s good to hear, Ellwick.”

Not long after that he took up the role as you’re family’s cleanup crew, eliminating those your family marked. Unpaid debts and traitors were his targets, the scum of your faction–perfect level for Ellwick to begin truly becoming apart of this family. You’d think that’d be enough for him to feel included. But that’s just like him to be so greedy.

“May I come with you on that mission?”

Ellwick asked, still panting from running down the halls from Mother’s office trying to catch up to you and your brother. You both were prepared, dressed to the nines in comparison to him who was in a dirtied leather suit. It'd be a burden and embarrassment for him to come.

Your brother laughed, ” No chance! Look at you covered in cinders again! What’d you do, wrestle your target in a fire pit?”

Ellwick awkwardly smiled as your brother held his stomach. Laughter rising and eyes widening as if he had an epiphany. He points at the blonde, who barely winces at the pressure.

“Kind of like–Cinderwick! Haha!”

You rolled your eyes as he repeated the name inbetween his belly laughs. Ellwick’s smile was twitching on the otherhand turning his attention to you. Glaring at him you ushered your brother away, barely turning your head to the crushed boy.

“You can’t. We won’t be letting an outsider handle things as private as this.”

Many of your interactions would go like this. Cinderwick inserting himself in your personal business and you putting him in his place, your latest mission was no different. Only that you were older and more responsibility will have fallen to you. You had to step up more than ever.

“Alright my children as we discussed you will be infiltrating the gathering. Your target is the first son of the Mayor. Blackmail, romance him, kiss up, we need a foothold on the city. I can only trust my children.”

“Than why is he here?”

You shifted your eyes to the blond hitman who was standing barely a foot you and your brother. Your mother sighed.

“We need all hands on deck. Our competitors are in attendance as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if they try anything and I just can’t have my babies be put in danger.”

She held both you and your brother’s cheeks pinching it a little. Leaning into her touch you happily smiled at her over-endearment. Whereas your brother recoiled and wriggled away nursing his cheek.

“Aw geez Ma will you stop.”

“Now my children.” She looked to Ellwick.”All my children. I wish you the best.”

______________________________________________________________

It was almost commendable, how fast Cinderwick managed to do it. Wooing the son of the mayor and leading him on a wild goose chase that ultimately led to a grand proposal. To which he accepted.

There was a nervousness about him being the victor; a sudden power handed to someone who wasn’t apart of the family. He was in a position of power, a position that allowed him to string your family along.

“Congratulations my son! We’re happy you’ve found love in such a place!”

Sugarcoated words and fake pearly smiles were the next step in the mission. Officially tying the mayor to your family…all with a man who wasn’t apart of the family.

“Oh thank you step-mother! I can’t wait to have you and the family at our wedding.”

Your mother’s eye twitched at the ‘step’ but she maintained her smile letting Cinderwick cuddle into his fiance’s arm as they continued to chatter. It was revolting that it was he who returned to the estate with a cocky smile and a ring on his finger.

“Well you told all your children to do your best and they tried. So I will take the mantle up…as long as you agree to my terms.”

The following sentence had your mother sending you and your brother out of the room–treatment originally reserved for an outsider like him. Your brother stomped away dropping his emotionless persona, you followed.

“ARGH! How the heck did that slimy cinderblock idiot get ahead of us!? This is ridiculous!”

“...We tried…Arthur don’t do what I think you’re going to do.”

He turned to you the fire in his eyes directed to you.

“Tried?! We should’ve easily bested that bag of soot!”

Turning back around he made his way to his office slamming his mini fridge open to reveal a plethora of beers and cheap wine bottles. You thought you threw those out. You debated staying as he quickly began to chug the drinks haphazardly dropping the finished cans to the ground.

“Arthur. Don’t drink anything else.”

“Why!? Why wasn’t it me or you even!?”

“Well for one, typical romance isn’t exactly our field of expertise. I don’t know what you exp–”

You were cutoff by the ceramic smashing near the wall behind your head. Barely missing you it was lucky all you got was a cut from the ricochet glass shatter. It didn’t bother you, it seemed shallow, so you pressed further entering the room more. Closing and locking the door behind you as you closed in on your brother aiming to simply hug him.

It didn’t stop his drinking bout but it did bring him to a wobbly pause. Letting you slowly walk him away from the desk the alcohol sat. As if he was being taunted once he got barely three steps away he wrenched himself from your grip darting towards the alcohol. In his raw distracted strength he barely pushed you back into the decorative cabinet.

You would have repeated your attempt if it weren’t for the sudden grip of Ellwick’s leather glove on your wrist. Naturally you pulled yourself away or tried to. Struggling against his bone breaking hold, you ultimately relented as Arthur began to shove off the contents on his desk. Ellwick easily shoved you out of the room, successfully doing so. With that same force he pushes you against the wall, trapping you against it with his narrowed irises and presence alone.

“What are you doing?!”

“Its none of your business.”

“It is every bit my business! Why would you go anywhere near him when he’s in a drunken rage?”

“Because he’s family!” Your voice cracked with emotion, daring to look up at his softened blue eyes. With faux cough, you fixed yourself staring head on to the blonde before slipping past him.

“I don’t expect you to understand that though.”

Speed-walking out of the hall, your only goal was to return to your room hoping to finally relieve the burning sensation in your eyes. Ellwick on the other hand watched you walk away more specifically the cut that had let blood of yours trickle down.

In a fury like none other Ellwick made his way to the closed door. It was time to end this.

For good.

_____________________________________________________________

“My son. I want you to know I will always love your mother and I’ll never stop loving her.”

“Right.”

“But I’ve found someone who makes me happy! Someone who will cherish me and you!”

“Okay.”

“The thing is…she has a very different line of work.”

Ellwick wasn’t sold. Even as young as he was there wasn’t an inherent attraction to the mafia-life. When he had the chance to he’d read a torrent of love-stories and twisted family relations all with mafia environments. It usually ended in death, somehow bringing a foreboding cloud over this new developement.

*Click*

“Whoa whoa little one I get that I’m not a replacement for any–”

“My gun. Take it.”

“E-excuse me?”

Ellwick didn’t really register you before this. Eyes widening as someone as tiny as you easily cocked and flipped the butt of a gun in the direction of his father. Wielding the weapon he’d only seen on those forbidden adult movies with such ease. A silent urgency on your part, you were offering your gun with a custom handle of your favorite color.

It was an uncharacteristic show of kindness.

The first he’d seen in a while.

Since the announcement of your parent’s engagement there was a tension birthed among your closest members and your family. It was a clear sentiment that they dared not express with Ellwick in the room or their boss for that matter.

‘You’re going to be a target. You’re going to die.’

Everyone wanted to say it. Hint at it. But the air was too thick and they were too scared to break the silence.

But not you.

You were the only one to tell it to him straight. Other than Ellwick himself. Of course the old geezer didn’t listen, avidly refusing to take your weapon and then attempting to get the weapon back from you.

It made you his favorite.

To think underneath such a cold exterior there was something soft–small but soft. Its what Ellwick told himself when you’d glare and insult him. He’s never found himself doing the same for your mother and brother. Only finding it in him to imagine their tortuous ends at his hands, he could never do that with you. Even when he began to do his work, he’d be all the more motivated when imagining two-thirds of his step-family.

Step-family. He didn’t like that title.

He hated associating you with that.

He liked you a lot more than that of a step-family.

He could handle the exclusion, the insults, the glares, all of it but he couldn’t have you being in the arms of someone else. So he pulled something he’d thought he buried long ago, charming the mayor’s son.

Having an influential leader’s heir willing to bend to his every whim and need made him powerful.

A threat.

So when your mother came to him practically begging for his forgiveness, Ellwick knew this was his chance to set everything in motion. So when you and your brother angrily departed he was prepared.

“The bit of your faction, handselected at my beck and call.”

“Done. You inform us of the policies and actions of the mayor?”

“Policies and upcoming legislation only. I’m not stalking my in-law.’

“Fine.“

“We meet once a month, I’ll come to you.”

“We can do that. Be willing to let your siblings visit you in-home during ermengenies?”

“Yes…I want (Y/n).”

“Excuse me?”

“I want (Y/n).

“You can’t be serious—”

“I am. I want full ownership of (Y/n) their activities, everything. Otherwise I’ll be inclined to fully inform the mayor and police department of what your true business entails.”

“I can’t possibly give you my child! Who do you think I am?!”

Ellwick made a face. Naturally and quickly pulling a gun out of his suit, earning a horrified reaction from his stepmother who was staring at the barrel. It’s not that Ellwick was unaware of the metal detectors and constant pat downs but when you’re a trained assassin this is light work.

“The same idiot, who thought’d I’d always be cleaning your messes. The same idiot who’s been ostracizing me and still put a gun in my hand.”

He moved closer but not close enough for his step-mother’s garrote-technique to be effective. He was almost inclined to reveal his companions ‘guarding her door or the poisoned dart in his cuff link. But he decided it wouldn’t be needed…not today at least.

“The same idiot who’s blind to the abusive alcholic she raised. That is more than likely hurting (Y/n) right now.”

“What’re you–”

“That’s what your first-husband was like, right? An alchoholic who ran the mafia with an iron fist.”

“Enough!...Fine. You can take them with you after your honeymoon.”

“Before.”

“Why would you–”

“Be-fore.”

“....It will be…done.”

When she finished, Ellwick had full intentions to find you. No doubt cooking up a barrage of insults to cutely angrily whisper behind you’re door. But before he could make it to your room, he heard the sound of glass shattering and muffled yelling.

He could only see red. Red as the cut that was bleeding on your skin.

Seems like his role as the family’s ‘cleanup crew’ would come in handy.

#yandere genderbend cinderella #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere genderbend #yandere genderbent #yandere genderbend disney #yandere genderbent disney #yandere genderbent cinderella #yandere mafia au

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roosterforme · 3 months

Text

Adult Education Part 23 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake has found everything he needs in one person. He knows deep inside that nothing is going to change Jessica's love for him, but he's nervous to tell her what's been on his mind. When he opens himself up to her even more, she gives him everything he wants.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, pegging, anal, language, 18+

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Epilogue Part Two

Five more months later...

Jessica was just settling down on the couch with a mug of tea when Jake got home from work. "Hey, Baby," he said as he undid the top buttons on his khaki uniform shirt. "How was your day?"

"Not bad," she replied, absolutely loving that her Fridays ended early this term. "I started making a list of what we need to pack for Cabo, and I printed out my final exam sheets. Dinner's in the oven, and I'm about to email Luca back. He asked me if I wanted him to stop by with his skateboard next week. Isn't he adorable?"

Jake smirked as she reached for him. "You made dinner? Seriously?"

She rolled her eyes as she said, "Don't be silly, Smart Boy. I took the pan of lasagna that you left in the refrigerator and put it in the oven."

"Yeah, that makes more sense," he drawled as she looked up at him from the couch.

"Your uniforms are ruining my life," she whispered as she ran her hands along his thigh and took his zipper pull between her thumb and index finger. "Ever since I actually flew with you in your flight suit, I can't get enough of all of these things. I've been enjoying all the role playing."

Jake pressed his lips together, a thoughtful look on his face. "I noticed you've been having a lot of fun bossing me around lately."

She hummed as she kissed his zipper. "That's an understatement. I loved it when you called me Admiral Reed while you wore your dress blues. Speaking of which... I haven't seen them recently."

"Special occasions, Baby. Can't wear them every day," he told her, and she made a disappointed sound as he took one step away from her.

"Where are you going? I was about to give you a blowjob."

To her knowledge, Jake had never turned her down. Ever. Not once in over ten months with him. She sat still on the couch and watched him rake his fingers a bit nervously through his hair. The more she looked at him, the more she realized he didn't quite seem like himself, and she hopped up from the couch and went to him.

"You can tell me what's wrong, Jake," she promised softly. "Did I do something?"

"No," he replied with conviction. "You didn't do a damn thing wrong, Baby. I've just had something on my mind."

"Oh." She was trying to think of a single positive thing that would get this reaction out of him, but she could only come up with negatives. Her mind was supplying scenarios that would be enough to break her heart as he studied her with pensive green eyes.

"I really like that," he muttered, gaze falling to the floor. "When you kind of... take control." His face was flushed a pretty shade of pink, and Jessica couldn't stop staring. He was so obviously nervous, and he didn't meet her eyes until she pressed her palm to his warm cheek. "I like it when you do that."

"Okay," she replied with a little nod. "Then I'll do it more often."

He huffed out an exasperated breath and looked up at the ceiling now. "Jessica... I've never asked for anything like this before. And I don't really know how to do it now."

She used both hands to tip his face down again so he was looking at her once more. His pupils were wide, and his lips were set in a firm line, and she had no idea what was running through his mind that was making him react this way. "You can tell me anything, Jake. You can ask for what you want. I do it all the time. I ask you to buy me lingerie and toys, and you always do."

"This is different," came his immediate response. "I don't know if you'll like it. Hell, I don't even know if I'll like it."

She scraped her nails gently along his stubble and tried to imagine what he wanted. She'd give him anything. "Is it something kinky?" she asked, tracing his lip as he nodded. "You're just going to have to tell me then, and I promise I'll at least consider it."

Jake seemed to be gathering his thoughts as her hand drifted down his neck to his shirt where she slowly traced the letters in SERESIN over and over again until he whispered, "Okay. Baby, you know how we bought all those toys from that one website?" When she nodded, he added, "And you know how we kind of skipped the one category?"

She could picture the night they were curled up on the couch with her phone, adding things to the shopping cart with reckless abandon until they'd spent over five hundred dollars. She could also clearly picture the collection of dildos and straps that were available that they didn't touch at all.

"Oh."

He swallowed hard, his eyes growing wide as he started to pull away from her. "Yeah."

But Jessica wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tighter against her body. He was getting a little hard, and then she whispered, "You want me fuck you like that? With a strap-on?"

She really didn't even need the verbal confirmation, not with the way his body reacted and the soft moan that came from the back of his throat. But she kissed him as soon as he said, "Yes."

-------------------------

Jake was waiting for things to shift. He was bracing himself for Jessica to look at him differently or change her mind. There was a difference between wants and needs, and he knew that. He wanted to experiment with her, because he trusted her. She brought out emotions he'd never felt before which opened them up to some exciting exploration in the bedroom. He was nervous to tell her what he wanted, but he did it anyway.

But what he needed was for Jessica to say yes when he proposed on vacation in Cabo with the three carat diamond ring he bought. He needed her to say she'd spend the rest of her life with him before they went to Texas for Christmas. But if it were possible for someone to fulfill all of his needs and his wants too, it was Jessica. It was always going to be Jessica.

So he was surprised but not unpleasantly so when after dinner, she stretched out on the couch with her head on his thigh and brought the topic back to the items she mentioned earlier. She looked up at him and said, "We should make sure you're happy with what we pick, but there are a lot of options. And I guess if we buy something and you don't like it, we could always try again?"

"I love you," he whispered, now knowing he hadn't done anything to change the way she felt about him. She smiled softly as he ran his fingers through her hair.

"I love you, too," she promised. "And I'm really excited about this."

Jake sighed in relief. "If you don't think it's fun, we definitely don't need to try it a second time." But she was already pointing out a few different dildos that she found on her phone and holding it up for him to see.

"Oh, Jake," she said with a grin that made him pulse with need. "I'm pretty sure I'm going to have a great time. And this one comes in navy blue... I'm just saying, it would match your uniforms perfectly."

That comment alone left Jake in a state of constant need for the next week while he waited for the goods to arrive. The box was dropped off the following Friday, and Jessica was wearing his robe and smiling like the cat who got the cream when he got home from work. "How was your last day of the semester, Dr. Reed?" he asked softly as she held up the pink box.

"It was good," she replied easily. "And it's about to get even better. We leave for Cabo in the morning, and the new toys are here."

Jake swallowed hard as she handed him the box, and when she untied his robe sash, he was treated to the sight of her in her navy blue lace bra and thong set. "Jessica," he croaked, already turned on and beyond excited.

"Look in the box," she told him, and he realized she had already cut it open. Everything was the same blue color as her lingerie, and he moaned softly when he ran his hand along the smaller of the two dildos. He didn't know if this would feel good or not, but the idea of his girlfriend wearing it was making him hard.

He met her eyes as she said, "If it looks good to you, I'll clean everything and get ready while you change into your dress blues."

"My dress blues?" he asked as she took the box from him.

She bit her lip and moaned. "Do it, Lieutenant Seresin. Put on your dress blues and wait for me in the bedroom."

"Yes, ma'am," he grunted, heading right for the closet without delay. His hands shook slightly as he pulled his uniform from the hanger. He was so excited, he could barely get the tie on himself. He looked at the shoes. Would she want him to wear the shoes? Did he want to skip them and hope for a reprimand? Would she reward him more if he was wearing the full uniform?

He ended up putting them on, and when Jessica walked into the bedroom, he was standing at attention. But his jaw dropped when he saw that she was already wearing the strap-on. No sound came out, but he was gasping for air as she ran her hand up and down the length, casually strolling closer to him.

"This looks good on you, Lieutenant," she purred, and his cock stirred a little more. "I like it when you're dressed for the occasion."

"What's the occasion, Admiral Reed?"

She took his hand in hers and turned the palm up, and then she squeezed out some lube. Then she guided his hand to the dildo, and he helped her coat it up. "You're the one who told me this uniform is just for special occasions, so I'll make it a very special one for you. I'm going to fuck you in the ass until you come."

Jake gasped, his hand tightening around the length, pulling Jessica closer to him. "Please," he whimpered, and she adjusted his hat on his head with her clean hand.

"I can't guarantee this will stay on," she mused, grabbing him by the bicep and turning him so he was facing the bed. Her hands came to rest on his hips from behind, and the toy poked him as she said, "And these definitely won't be staying on."

She reached around and started to undo the front of his pants. This was his Jessica. This was the self assured, beautiful woman of his dreams, and she started jerking him off as his pants fell to the floor. The strap on was rubbing his backside. He could come simply from this.

"Bend over, Lieutenant," she demanded, squeezing his cock with her slick hand before releasing him. He did as he was told, and when his cheek met the bedding, her hands met his ass. "Don't forget, Jake," she said softly. "If you're not enjoying it, the safe word is Sam Adams."

"Thank you, Baby," he whispered, actually feeling a lot more at ease than he imagined. And that's precisely when Jessica's hand landed on his ass with a hard slap.

"Lieutenant Seresin," she barked out. "Your uniform is sloppy. Your pants are on the floor. I have told you so many times to straighten this out!"

"Yes Admiral Reed, ma'am," he replied, his voice shaking with need as his cock twitched against the bed. "I'll do better next time."

She laughed, and Jake could hear her uncap the bottle of lube just before he felt her squeeze it onto his backside near where she spanked him. "You need to be taught a lesson. Or you'll keep strutting around here like the rules don't apply to you."

"Yes, ma'am," he gasped as her fingers slid through the slick mess before easing from his balls right up to his asshole. He was already bucking back against her fingers as she teased him, and he'd never been more aware of the fact that he'd never had anything inside him before.

He looked back at her over his shoulder, his blue jacket all bunched up on his body along with his shirt and tie. When she met his eyes, she smirked and said, "Relax, Lieutenant. Be a good boy. It will all be over soon."

The words Sam Adams were right there on his tongue, and he was ready to shout them out, but he found himself relaxing at her touch as she eased her fingertip along while she whispered, "Just be a good boy."

He grunted at the stretch, because it felt incredible. "Admiral Reed," he whined as she inserted her finger deeper. God, he'd wanted this in the worst way, and it felt so fucking good. Her other hand rubbed circles along his lower back, and when he pressed his hips back for more of her finger, she started to withdraw it instead.

"You want more," she whispered, a statement rather than a question. She could tell he did, but he nodded against the bedding and told her yes. Then her finger was back, slipping inside him as he took fistfuls of the blankets. This was different than he usually felt when they were intimate. Not better or worse, but a different kind of pleasurable. She was easily gliding along a spot inside him that left him a little short of breath, groaning her name.

After long enough that his cock was starting to ache for relief, she said, "I think you're ready for the strap, Lieutenant. And I can't wait to give it to you."

He knew she would be gentle amidst the roleplay, and she was. Jake could feel her coating him up with more lube before she leaned down and kissed his back through his uniform. Then she eased the blunt silicone head to his hole and swirled it around while he did his best to try to relax. Jessica's other hand wrapped around to his cock which was devastatingly hard, and she started to slowly jerk him off again while she pushed.

If the stretch from her finger felt good, the stretch from the strap felt both incredible and also alarming. He was gasping, knuckles white as he clutched the bedding. Jessica pushed deeper and deeper, still stroking her hand along his cock as she filled his ass completely. Her hips were resting against him as he moaned and whined loudly.

He squeezed his eyes closed, sucking in air as she paused, fully seated. "How does that feel, Lieutenant Seresin?" she asked, voice breathy as she kissed along his back again.

Jake tried to find the words to describe the juxtaposition of pleasure mixed with slight pain along with the thrumming desire for more. More of Jessica's voice, more movement, and more pressure. "I like it," he managed, and that was all she needed to hear.

Inch by beautiful inch, she withdrew until that blunt tip was the only thing inside him, and Jake moaned loudly as she thrusted into him faster this time while his body grabbed at the length. "Oh god," he whined when he was full again. "Feels amazing."

She slid her slick hand along his cock and whispered, "You're my good boy," while she fucked him. "You're doing great." She rolled her hips, fucking him with rapid, shallow thrusts while he grunted her name and balled the bedding up tighter. She stroked his length slower as her hips went faster, and Jake's hands shook with anticipation.

"Baby," he moaned as her hips pressed against his ass, holding herself in place as she filled him completely.

"Admiral Reed," she corrected, letting her hand drift slowly back down his shaft so she was squeezing his balls. She rolled her hips back and snapped them forward in one fluid motion, and Jake buried his face in the bedding as he cried out.

"Admiral Reed! I'm close! I'm so close!"

Without slowing her tempo, Jessica grabbed him by his hips, and Jake's cock pressed against the bed. She was rubbing him in all the right places, keeping him full with thrust after thrust, and his cock was throbbing in need.

"Come, Lieutenant. You earned it," she promised, grabbing at his hips and waist and grunting as she finished him off with all of her remaining strength. Just a few more thrusts as she found every spot inside of him that needed relief, and he was coming all over the bed.

"Fuck!" he growled, lifting his upper body slightly to chase that perfect pressure, and he watched his cum shoot across the bedding as Jessica rubbed his electrified skin. Jake collapsed back down onto his own mess, the sticky warmth on his hands and cheek as he whined and whimpered.

He felt Jessica remove the strap one inch at a time until she was free of his body, and she hugged him from behind, kissing at his shoulder. "I love you, Jake. I love you so much," she crooned breathlessly, and he at least had the wherewithal to realize she might need some relief now as well. But he couldn't stand up yet. Not when she was whispering the sweetest things in his ear while his legs shook.

When he lifted his head, she kissed his cheek while he tried to formulate words. Then she moaned and licked the cum from his face. Nothing had changed. She was still his in the same way she had been, and if anything, he loved her more for what she just did with him.

"Jessica," he whispered, kissing her lips, finally. She tasted like him. She tasted perfect. Then he stood, and she was smiling up at him, wearing that pretty strap. And Jake knew. He fucking knew damn well that it was time to ask her.

"Where are you going?" she asked when he reached for his pants, pulling them up high enough so he could walk.

He rushed out to the kitchen and opened the cabinet that contained all of the spices and seasonings. She was still apprehensive about cooking on her own, and this was the last place she would have looked for anything. He grabbed the small box and popped it open as he ran back into the bedroom as quickly as he could. Jessica had removed the strap and set it on the bed, leaving her in that sinful looking navy blue set. She adjusted her glasses just before her gaze fell to his hand, and then he dropped to his knee in front of her.

"Jake?" she gasped as her eyes went wide.

"Marry me. Please, Baby. Marry me. You're a need. A necessity. But you're also somehow the only thing I want. I was going to propose in Cabo, but I can't even wait until tomorrow. Will you marry me?"

Her pretty face crumpled as she sobbed, but she was nodding and reaching for him. Her voice shook as she smiled through her tears. "Yes. I'll marry you. You're my needs and wants, too."

Jake stood and scooped her up as he laughed. She ended up beneath him on the bed next to his cum, kissing him and running her fingers through his hair while he tried to get her to hold her hand still. "Let me put it on you, Smart Girl," he whispered, unable to stop smiling as he took her left hand and slipped the ring into place. He loved the way it looked. And then, as if the massive diamond didn't matter much to her in comparison to him, she had her hands back in his hair. And he kind of loved that, too.

"I can't wait to tell everyone how we got engaged," she said as she laughed and buried her face against his neck.

"You can tell them anything you want, Jess. Just make sure you pack that strap for Cabo along with the rest of the toys."

---------------------------

Thank you so much for coming on this little journey with me! It was really fun to fit Jake and Jessica into the Beer Boy and Sugar universe, and I hope you'll stick around to read about Bob and Anna soon, too! IYKYK...if you follow along with Beer Boy and Sugar, you already knew about Jake and Jessica's upcoming nuptials. More surprises are in store in every corner of this universe soon! Big thanks to @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @sylviebell for all your help!

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sodaabaa · 17 days

Text

to flee or not to flee, part four

anthony bridgerton x OC what happens when a charming and determined viscount courts someone whose worst fear is to marry a man like him?

tropes: damsel in distress, innocent and shy mc, slow burn,

tw: mentions of domestic abuse, angst, anxiety, slight misogyny/patriarchal concepts

masterlist

“Your Grace, may I be so privileged as to take a stroll with the Duchess? I was hoping to get to know the Bridgerton family better and where best to start but with the eldest daughter?” She approached the table where the Duke of Hastings and his wife were lounging at on the terrace of Aubrey Hall overlooking the vast amount of land the family possessed.

“Please, I only wish to be called Simon – the Duke of Hastings is a title better suited to stuffy old men, do you not think?” He joked, an easy smile on his face – although his attention returned quickly to his wife.

“Of course! I’d be delighted to learn more about you as well, Miss Carrington” Daphne said.

Daphne all but jumped from her seat, turning only to give a quick peck on her husband’s cheek.

“Shall we?” Daphne said, offering an arm to Annalise. She nodded, locking her arm with Daphne’s as they walked off.

They made their way to one of the large staircases leading down to the front of the manor and Annalise once again, marveled at the sheer size of the home. She supposed Daphne noticed her gaping stare when she said, “it is not as grand as it seems, when you share the home with a dozen other people.”

“Does Lord Bridgerton spend much of his time here?”

“Ah, straight into your inquiries of Anthony, I see?”

Annalise’s eyes widened, a warm blush creeping up her neck, “no- I did not mean to pry about the viscount’s affairs, I-”

Daphne laughed, “not to worry, Miss Carrington. I only wish I had the opportunity to learn about my husband and his family before I married him. It is a good thing that you wish to know us before you marry him.”

Annalise exhaled, once again overwhelmed with the task she decided to take on – spending each day with Bridgerton sibling would not be easy.

“Did you not know him before you married? From the way you two look at each other, it seems as though you’ve known each other for ages. Was it not a love match?”

“I suppose it was. Though neither of us knew, nor did we want to admit it. Actually, it was Anthony who made us marry – rather quickly too, I hadn’t had the chance to truly know Simon before we wed.”

“Did the viscount choose Simon for you to marry?”

Daphne scoffed, “heavens, no. He loathed the idea of Simon marrying me – do you know they dueled? Or they were about to before I ran in to stop them. He had found Simon and I…” she paused, pursing her lips, “in a rather compromising position.”

Annalise raised her brows, “and he forced the two of you to marry?”

“Precisely. Though I suppose it was for the best in the end” she smiled, no doubt thinking of her husband.

“Excuse my forwardness but, did he force the two of you to marry to save the family’s reputation? I suppose what I’m trying to say is, is he quite concerned with how he is perceived?”

“I suppose one could see it that way if you were not familiar with Anthony. You see, honor and duty is of utmost importance to my brother – and he is fiercely protective of the people he loves, which are few and far between outside of his family. He did not want Simon to take advantage of me – for him to have his way and then abandon me. In his own mind, forcing us to marry was more about protecting me from harm than it was about protecting my reputation.”

Annalise nodded, choosing to remain silent for a moment as they continued their stroll.

“Does he ever wish he were not the eldest?” Annalise asked.

Daphne looked at Annalise in surprise.

“No, I don’t think he does. Though, it’s not something I’ve ever discussed with him. One might think he regrets it or wishes he was not the firstborn – but Anthony is not a man who wishes for things. He’s very cold and logical in that way. The way he sees it, fate cannot be changed. He is the firstborn son and he must accept the responsibility that comes with it, whether he wishes to or not.”

Fate cannot be changed. The words echoed in her mind.

They continued their stroll around the grounds, Annalise quietly pondering over Daphne’s revelations about the viscount. When they neared Aubrey Hall, Daphne turned to Annalise, grabbing both of her hands.

“I could not imagine that any of my other brothers would have taken care of our family the way Anthony did – and continues to. And I doubt there is a man in London that could be a better husband than him because of it. Except Simon of course. But fortunately he’s taken.” She said with a triumphant smile.

The pair returned to Aubrey Hall, she exchanged goodbyes with Daphne who was all too eager to get back to her husband. Annalise stood at the center of the foyer, processing the conversation with the Duchess.

“I see you’ve gotten more acquainted with Daphne, she was not too tiresome, I hope? She is quite the opinionated Duchess, I will say” a velvety voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Annalise squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, scrunching her face. She exhaled and turned to where the voice had come from.

“Not at all, she’s lovely. I enjoyed my time with her” she replied, trying to be as curt as possible.

“I’m happy to hear you’re getting along with my family then – a step in the right direction indeed” he teased, a smile on his face that Annalise wished did not make her feel so warm in the face.

“Must you always?” She shot back.

He shrugged, his arms lifted out to each side, “I’m not certain what you mean, Miss Carrington.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, instead giving him a defiant look and a small curtsy to excuse herself from the conversation. He let her leave but did not cease his smiling as she walked off to her room, trying to put as much distance between the two of them as she could.

“Your defiance will not deter me, Miss Carrington!” He called out after her.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Her next target – Eloise. From what Annalise already knew of her, Eloise was rebellious, outspoken, and had a large amount of disdain for the polite society she was raised in. Perhaps she could give Annalise better insight into the flaws of her brother?

As expected, she found Eloise in the library, her nose in a book. Annalise sat across from her, a book in her own hand. She glanced at Eloise for a moment who seemingly either hadn’t noticed her sit down or was entirely too entranced by her book. Annalise opened her own book, skimming the pages.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Eloise peeking over her book. Annalise looked up just as Eloise peeked over her book once again.

“Hello, Miss Bridgerton – though I assume you’d prefer Eloise?”

She nodded, putting her book down in her lap.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Annalise asked.

“Oh, not at all. I’ve read this book twice before, I only wanted an excuse to get out of embroidery lessons with my mother and Francesca” she said bluntly.

Annalise laughed, “You are every bit the rebellious one your brother said you were.”

“He said that did he!” Eloise exclaimed.

“Well he certainly implied it” she laughed

Eloise rolled her eyes but her smile remained, “I suppose your brother thinks the same. A well-read woman is often seen as rebellious, are we not?”

Annalise’s smile faded, “yes it seems so.”

“It is their fault – they cannot handle an intelligent mind” Eloise said, her tone both serious and jestful when she noticed the shift in Annalise’ demeanor.

“Does your brother dislike your love of books?” Annalise asked.

“Hardly. Despite his qualms and complaints on my rebellious nature” she mocked, “when we were younger, he found quite the governess for us – for Daphne, Francesca and I, that is. Actually – several governesses, each one more strong willed than the other! I’d scare them off when I didn’t like them but he refused to give up” she chuckled.

“What about your brothers, did he treat them any differently from the three of you?” Come on, Eloise. Give me something. She pleaded in her mind.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, I suppose. He certainly doesn’t drink with us or take us to the gentlemen's club but we were always allowed to pursue what we wanted. Did he ever tell you, I’m a better shot than the lot of them! And he never prevented me from besting him, as wounded as his pride may have been.” She scoffed.

Annalise sighed. Yet another review of the viscount that held nothing but praise. Three days had passed and yet Annalise had not yet found a single flaw.

After their conversation ended, Annalise made her way out of the library towards the terrace for some air when she heard music coming from one of the rooms. She walked towards the sound – a pianoforte playing a dancing tune. The door to the room ajar so she peered inside, unable to quell her curiosity.

“Come, brother! It’s been far too long since you’ve danced with me!” It was the youngest Bridgerton, dragging Anthony by the hand towards the center of the room.

“Alright but just this one dance, I have much work to do, Hyacinth.”

Behind them, Francesca played the piano – as Anthony had said – quite exceptionally.

Anthony took Hyacinth by the hands and began dancing with her, galloping across the room, spinning her around eliciting loud giggles from the young girl. He picked her up, spinning her around, grinning ear to ear at the joy his sister found in dancing with him. Annalise watched them, it was a bittersweet sight. The age difference between Anthony and Hyacinth was not all that different from Annalise and Thomas. But here she was, deathly afraid of accepting a proposal from what she now had to admit, amazing man, because of her own brother. Her fear, that even Anthony, in all of his greatness, would turn out every bit as cruel as Thomas. She turned away from the scene, unable to witness all that she could have had.

That evening, she laid in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. There were still quite a few Bridgerton siblings left to converse with, but she was beginning to doubt there’d be any use. A sharp knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts.

“Come in,” she said, sitting up. Lady Bridgerton walked in, a gentle smile on her face. Annalise stood up, caught off guard by her sudden arrival.

“Apologies, I did not mean to intrude but I wished to speak with you.”

“Oh! It’s no intrusion at all, Lady Bridgerton, it’s your home after all. Please, sit” Annalise said, standing until the dowager viscountess took her seat on the bed.

They sat side by side as Lady Bridgerton took Annalise’s hands in hers.

“This all must be quite frightening for you, being courted by Anthony and having no confidant” she said, her eyes filled with love – Annalise knew what she had meant. She was unsure of what to say, scared that she might say the wrong thing.

“Should you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask me. I went through this once upon a time – and I have raised four daughters of my own. I am no stranger to the worries of young girls during this time.”

“Thank you, Lady Bridgerton. You are most kind” she said softly, trying to hold back the tears fighting their way through. Despite not remembering much of her mother, there were certainly days where her heart ached because of the vacancy in her life.

“I know Anthony is not the easiest man to get along with. He is an enigma, even to me sometimes and I raised the boy!” She laughed, Annalise smiled along with her. Lady Bridgerton exhaled, a smile still on her face as she turned to Annalise.

“He feels strongly about you. I see it in the way he looks at you. I do not think I’ve ever seen him quite so enamored by someone before. I do hope you will give him a chance before you write him off.”

Annalise sighed. First the sisters, now the mother. What was Annalise to do?

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A startling crack forced Annalise’s eyes open, ripping her from her sleep. Light poured in through the satin curtains. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It was the morning of her fourth day at Aubrey Hall, her fourth day in search for Anthony Bridgerton’s fatal flaw in hopes it may save her from the irreversible boundaries of marriage. Annalise sighed, leaving the plush bed behind in preparation for the day.

She made her way towards the noise that had awakened her, following the boisterous laughter of men as they shot clay pigeons. To her surprise – it was not only men, Eloise was taking her shot while Benedict, Collin, and the Duke watched in awe. She stepped outside, walking towards the group though not near enough for them to see her just yet.

“She is a freak of nature” Benedict murmured.

“How was I not aware that it is not a Bridgerton brother – but a sister who is the best shot?” The Duke chuckled, obviously enjoying the shame Eloise’ skills caused her brothers.

Eloise turned after taking her shot, shooting down the clay pigeon with ease, a triumphant smile on her face.

When she spotted Annalise, she jumped, “Oh, Annalise! You must join us!” Eloise ran over, excitedly grabbing Annalise by the hand and dragging her towards the little party.

Benedict was the first to speak as Annalise approached them, offering a nod and a warm smile.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of speaking yet – I hear you’ve been quite busy interrogating the family about our dear eldest brother?”

Annalise blushed, “I see I have not been as subtle as I had hoped,” looking down at her feet suddenly regretting joining their outing.

“It’s quite alright, Miss Carrington. Quite smart on your part, actually” the Duke said, chiming in on the conversation.

“Has it now reached our turn to be interrogated?” Collin jested.

Annalise couldn’t fight off her smile caused by the younger boy’s joke, “I think I’ve gathered all the information I need.”

“And that is?” Benedict asked.

“That your brother is essentially flawless, I suppose. There is really nothing that could hinder me from accepting his proposal.”

The three siblings and the Duke exchanged looks, silent for a moment before bursting out into a fit of laughter. Annalise stilled, had she said something funny?

“Our brother? Flawless?” Eloise said, doubling over in laughter.

Benedict and Collin cleared their throats, trying not to laugh any further, wiping away tears from their eyes. The Duke chuckled once more.

“Do you wish to reject his proposal, Miss Carrington?” Collin asked after he’d calmed down from the sudden outburst. Before she could respond, Benedict cut in.

“Truth be told, Anthony is a complicated man – he is honorable and decent, of course. But,” he paused, trying to find the words to convey his feelings towards his eldest brother, “the death of our father haunts him, the weight of carrying this family is constant and it makes him rather – irritable? Hard to please?” He finished, looking at Eloise and Collin in question.

“Obstinate?” Eloise added.

“Self-righteous” Collin said.

“Arrogant” the Duke nodded.

“Well then-” she turned to Eloise, “you waxed on about how well he took care of you and your sisters” she said, confused at the sudden change in opinion.

“He certainly did! As dutiful and honorable as he is, he can be just as difficult.”

“He is the reason we are able to pursue what we want but his decision to take on this burden has isolated him” Benedict said earnestly.

Annalise did not know what to make of this conversation. She saw what it did to her brother to take on the responsibility of being heir. It did not bode well for her, she became the outlet to her brother’s every stress and grievance. But she had seen Anthony with his family – the family whose weight he held on his shoulders valiantly. He did not hurt them the way Thomas had hurt her.

“Perhaps we should return, it seems as though a storm is coming” the Duke said, snapping Annalise out of her thoughts. She only nodded, relieved to end the conversation and retire to her room.

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Anthony poured another drink in his glass, swirling the cup before downing the bitter liquid all at once. He sighed, leaning back in his chair. He spent the past few days going over dozens of ledgers and letters that required his attention. At first, he welcomed the distraction. It had been four days and Annalise still had not given him an answer – not only had she not answered but it seemed to be she was doing her best to avoid him altogether. He supposed it could be worse, Daphne had informed him that Annalise was asking about him. Perhaps he had hope yet. The pitter patter of rain caught Anthony’s attention, the dreary skies finally gave into pouring rain it seemed. He tried to return his focus to the ledgers in front of him. Unfortunately, the sound of his siblings' laughter did not allow it. He exhaled in annoyance, getting up from his seat at the mahogany desk to go berate them to shut up.

“Is it necessary to be as boisterous as you lot are?” He barked, storming out of his study.

“I have been working for da-” He stopped in his mid sentence, choking on his words once he noticed Annalise frozen standing between Benedict and Eloise.

“Miss Carrington. My apologies, I did not realize- I assumed all the noise was coming from my brothers” He stumbled.

She shook her head, “please, you needn’t apologize, my lord. We did not intend to disturb you” she said, her voice meek, avoiding eye contact. Something tugged at his chest at the sight of her so docile and afraid.

“Come now brother, must you always be such a damper on our fun?” Benedict said.

He shot Benedict a look, not now.

Thankfully, Benedict understood.

“I believe mother wanted to speak with you, Eloise. Something about you avoiding an embroidery lesson?”

Eloise looked to Anthony and then Benedict, eyes wide.

“Collin? Did you ever tell me about your trip to Anatolia? Penelope mentioned something about a turkey…?” She said, hoping to rope Collin into postponing her chat with their mother.

Collin pondered for a moment, “no I don’t believe I did.” Benedict, Collin and Eloise locked arms and sauntered off. Benedict turned before they were out of sight, throwing a wink at Anthony.

He was left with Annalise, who still had her eyes trained on the ground.

“Would you mind accompanying me back to my study for a moment?” He asked.

She looked up, lips parted to make an excuse but he spoke before she could voice her protest.

“I promise, I only wish to speak with you.”

She nodded hesitantly but followed him as he made his way back to the study. He returned to his seat, gesturing for Annalise to sit where she’d like. She sat, her hands in her lap, fiddling with her fingers.

He watched her for a moment. Eyes trained on the way she tried to soothe her nerves by fiddling with whatever she could find – usually it was a loose thread. Anthony exhaled, he supposed he should just spit out the question he so desperately wanted an answer to.

“Why are you insistent upon refusing my proposal? One would have thought marriage is something a person in your position should chase” he asked.

Annalise looked up, inhaling.

“I have already told you, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Have I wronged you in some way? Hurt you? Or have you found that I lack something that you wish to have in a husband” Anthony pressed.

She scoffed, shaking her head.

“What is it?” He asked.

“You are so incredibly,” she paused, “vexing!”

“Vexing?” His eyebrows raised.

“Yes, vexing. I have spent the better part of this week searching for some flaw, some secret, something that will make it clear to me that we are not meant to be!” Her voice was rising as she neared the end of the sentence. This was the most he’d seen her speak – and the loudest she had been too.

“And did you find it?” He whispered.

“No.”

Anthony held his breath, waiting for her to continue.

“Instead, I have found nearly a hundred reasons to surrender and accept that perhaps,” she inhaled, “perhaps I was fated to you from the very start.”

“Does this mean you accept my proposal?” Anthony drew in a breath. He could see the internal battle in her mind, afraid, pained by the question he continued to pose to her.

“Please,” she paused, looking back down at her lap, “do not hurt me. I have spent a lifetime fearing my brother’s anger and I cannot,” her voice cracked and Anthony’s heart broke, “I cannot bear to spend the rest of my life in continuation of the same fear with another man.”

Anthony crossed over to her, leaning in front of her and took her face in both of his hands – taking great care to be as gentle as he could be. She looked at him, causing tears to fall from her eyes. He reached forward, placing a kiss under each eye where the tears had fallen.

“I swear upon all of the stars in the sky that I will not hurt you, Annalise."

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