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winterarmyy · 10 months

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Welcome Home... Soldat? | Part II

That time when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Navigation: Part I || Part II* || Part III (end) || Extra

Words: 4.2k++ (of fluff and filth)

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, no minors allowed, nsfw, dub con, fingering, pussyjob, thighjob, soldat being manipulative yet maintains to be so loving at the same time, another round of google translated russian, filthy praises, soldat just want to make you feel good, wet & messy everywhere, loud & whiny soldat, and at the end of the day, despite the manipulation, the soldat just want take care of you.

A/N: omfg 1k++ notes from the previous chapter?! i didn't think this would get so much attention that it had, tbh. Like wtf. What did I do to deserve this 😭 Thank you so much for your support! I can't even begin to tell you guys how much joy y'all bring me. So, I decided write more of our soft soldat for all of us cause let's be honest, we need him so bad. It's gonna be 3 part mini series. I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

The darkness in his sight seemed permenant, at least until it transitioned into a dim-litted scenery. He recognized softness of the bed, and the blank white color of the ceiling.

He was in his room.

But, when he realized the emptiness of his bed, it was as if a force jolted through his body, yanking his lying figure into a sitting position. The dead silent was broken by the sound of his gasping breaths, followed closely by the beats of his pounding heart.

"Родная (darling)?" His voice shivered in his shaky breath.

When the silent replied his call, cold sweat drenched the roots of his hair. He almost jumped into a defensive position when the door of the walk-in wardrobe seemingly opened on its own.

But to his relief, her voice broke the silence, "Soldat?" Y/N peeped out her head when she heard his voice but the moment she saw the panic in his blue eyes, she quickly made her way towards him.

As soon as she was standing near enough, the soldat pulled her into a crushing hug, rubbing his face into her stomach a relief washed over him. Y/N ran her hands through his hair as she coaxed, "I'm here, I'm here."

He hummed in reply, "You're here." He repeated as a sigh escaped his lips.

Y/N didn't know why she expected that Bucky would be back after their "sleepover" but it was a shock for her when she woke up that morning with several tender kisses on her face by the soldat, who was very much still present.

"So, you're saying he's is not the winter soldier?" Sam cocked his head to the side as he tried to wrap up the overwhelming information thrown by Shuri.

The woman rolled her eyes, "No, I didn't say that. I said, he is not fully relapsed into the winter soldier." She reclarified.

"How was this possible? I thought he was gone?" Y/N asked as her worried gaze glanced over Bucky's unmoving figure in the examination pod.

Shuri sighed as she approached her, they watched Bucky's peaceful features resting through the glass, "We only remove the trigger that were attached to a switch to activating the winter soldier from Bucky; the soldat was never gone."

Y/N's eyebrows creased as the wakandan continued to explain, "It's like removing the toggle from a light switch; you can't turn it on just like that. But if, let say we use a toothpick to poke through the hole and trigger the switch, then..."

Steve intercepted her words before she could finish, "...then it'll be turned on." The woman nodded, "Precisely."

"That does not explain why Bucky is partially... not himself." Tony quickly probed as he casually threw a red M&M's into his mouth.

Steve paced back and forth in the room as he tried to replay the day of the incident, "Maybe it has to do something in that Hydra base that we raided. Bucky did look troubled on the jet home, then when we arrived he suddenly went berserk, looking for something; well... someone". He stopped as he threw a knowing look to Y/N.

"Yeah, why he is suddenly acting lovey dovey with y/n if the soldier was triggered? I don't get it." Sam crossed his arms against his chest as he questioned.

A smile almost cracked on Shuri's lips when they mentioned that, "This is just a hypothesis; but I reckoned that Bucky knew that the soldier is slowly taking over his mind and he didn't want to let himself vulnerable, exposed for people to give him orders."

Shuri leaned her back towards the table as she continued, "So instead, he latched himself on something else, to act as his mission. Some kind of desire that's buried as deep as where his winter soldier persona was concealed."

"So, you're saying that grumpy old man's deepest, darkest desire is to suffocate y/n with kisses and cuddles?" Tony quirked his eyebrow as he chewed on the sweet chocolate snack; there was certainly sarcasm in his voice.

Y/N intictively took the nearest object within her reach, which turns out to be a thick manual book, and struck Tony on his arms. The man repulsed with a confused frown on his forehead, mouthing a soundless, "What?"

Y/N mouthed back, "Shut up!" while Sam chuckled amusingly at the silent banter between them.

Ignoring the back and forth between Y/N and Tony, Shuri answered, "Well, those urges are derived by a certain key emotion, which I'm sure put you that genius title of yours into a good use, then you should've known the answer already."

"Love." Steve's revelation cuts through before Tony could throw his banter at Shuri, "He loves y/n." He repeated his words as if all of this made absolute sense.

Which only made Y/N stop on her tracks, "He loves me?" she questioned herself but everyone in the lab can practically see the confusion on her face.

Shuri agreed to Steve's deduction, "Yes, perhaps. I supposed that is why he is protective over her and like he said, wanted to suffocate her with kisses and cuddles." Shuri pointed at Tony as she return his sarcasm.

"Wait wait wait." Y/N held her hands forward as she stepped in the middle of the conversation, "Why are we casually agreeing to that as if it's normal? I mean, I know I'm not a genius but that is absolutely ridiculous. Bucky doesn't love me, as a friend maybe, yeah, but not like that." She couldn't help but to blush as she recalled the way the soldat hands and lips mapped on her skin.

"Yes, you are absolutely not a genius, especially when you are one of the two idiots who's in love with each other." Tony casually laid out the fact as everybody in the lab nodded in agreement, including Steve who she thought would back her up.

Y/N shook her head in denial and revert the conversation back to its original destination, "So, how do we get Bucky back?"

Shuri opened the terminal screen as she watched the progress of her observation, "Well, we're still figuring that out." Y/N's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"But what I can say is, it is best to let him stick with y/n for now." Shuri concluded.

They took the whole day running tests on the soldat, which he obediently cooperate as long as Y/N was there to hold his hand.

Between resting for breakfast, lunch and snack break; the soldat spend his time to be forced to put to sleep and out of it through out the day.

Right after dinner, and the final test run, he was just left to sleep off the rest of the night and Y/N finally had time to prep herself to sleep, when she heard Bucky's voice from the bed.

"Just finished showering. Hope you don't mind me wearing your shirt, they kinda lock me in here." Y/N frowned when she thought back on how the team managed to bring most of her things over but then forgot to pack her signature iron man pyjamas.

A fond smile curved on the soldat's lips as his gaze raked over her small body wrapped in his baggy shirt, which fell right at the middle of her naked thighs.

Y/N swore that there saw a flash of Bucky in his gleaming eyes. Or maybe she was just being delusional at this point.

She let him pulled her by the hand as he slowly brought her towards him. In no time, he had them both on the comfy matteress with soldat's back propped up against the headboard, while his arms found their place around Y/N's waist, cocooning her in between his legs.

It amazes her to think how comfortable she was, being this intimately close to him; when Bucky would've been too cautious to even approach her platonically.

So she decided rather than being constantly hesitant around the soldat, she thought that she might as well just enjoy the moment as it presented itself.

Y/N's exploring eyes stopped to the side of the bed when she saw a book next to the night lamp. She reached her hand as she leaned closer.

"Prince Caspian." She whispered to herself as her fingertips grazed across the title, "The Chronicles of Narnia, huh?"

It makes sense that Bucky would be interested to read this series, knowing his quirky yet undying brag about having the experience of reading The Hobbit back when it first came out.

Y/N couldn't help but to smile to herself, especially when her train of thoughts stopped at those memories of him.

She lifted the book towards the soldat, "What do you think, Soldat? Want me to read it to you?" She asked as the soldat rested his chin on her shoulder, peering at the deep blue, hard covered book.

He briefly hummed before replying, "Yes, please." The soldat loved the idea of being able to hear more of his darling's beautiful voice. It was his favourite thing in the whole world. Well, one of the things but surely all them were involving her.

Y/N settled herself as she leaned back against his sturdy chest. One of her legs were bent up towards her chest while the other was lazily thrown over his, spreading them as far as they could go.

The soldat placed light kisses on the back of her head all the way to the side of her neck, relishing at how soft her skin was and how good she smelled. The quiet of the room only enhanced the presence of her calming voice, luring him to close his eyes as he drowned himself the melody of it.

Minutes gone by and it was passing the half hour mark.

It wasn't that the soldat find the story boring or her voice drowsying, but he was feeling rather needy, almost greedy, to have more of Y/N to the point that he got slightly distracted.

She had been such a darling to him ever since he came home; fed him, letting him touch her, kiss her, pamper her, held her hand during those long lab tests, having her in his arms through the night and against his nightmare, and making him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

And yet, she didn't get anything in return.

His darling deserved to feel good and he wanted to give it to her so badly that he was getting distracted from the story that she was passionately reading for him.

Soldat's hands carefully explored her body, from the side of her waist then slowly down to her naked thighs. Too engrossed with the plot, she almost instinctively opened her legs wider for him. Though she never intended to do so, her actions surely were quite sinful.

He used the opportunity to glide his metal hand deeper into her inner thighs, lightly caressing up higher towards where her thighs meet, until the tip of it brushed over her core.

Now that's when she realized the situation, her head shoot up to face him. The book in her hand almost thrown to the side as she reached to grab his, gripping it tightly as she tried to pull him away.

Failing to stop him, she whispered "W-what are you doing?" She stuttered as she felt his fingers slide across her clothed pussy.

Soldat looked down at the smaller, "Wanna make you feel good, мое Родная (my darling)" he innocently whispered back as his dangerous fingers provoked her.

When her silence remained, the soldat lifted the corner of his eyebrow in curiosity. Was she hesitating? He sees it as an opportunity to coax her to his will.

He cooed softly when he explained, "You deserve it, darling. Deserve it so much. Please, let me?" He sounded so desperate when he begs like that.

It feels like her whole body was burning, his touch were igniting flames wherever he drags his fingers. She knew it was wrong to feel like this, but she couldn't help it.

Oh, how his fingers works wonders even with the thin fabric were blocking his access.

Y/N bit her lower lip as she looked down to her thighs. The way she was grabbing onto his hands as he moved around; it looked like she was guiding him to touch her more.

The soldat knew she was close to be tempted to submit, "I promise it'll feel good. So good." he almost growled in her ears as he saw patch of the dampness started to appear on the center her panties.

"Don't." she whispered quietly, but that only made the soldat to futher seduce her as he add more pressure on his middle finger.

She hesitated for a while before she slurred "D-don't stop." her head thrown back into his neck, finally giving in to his promise of pleasure.

Lust took over the soldat, "Gonna make you feel so good, Родная (darling). Promise gonna treat your pretty pussy right. Make her cum so hard." He whispered lovingly as his breath sends shivers down her spine.

The soldat groaned, dropping his head to her neck to press open mouthed kisses on her untainted skin as he slipped his hand into her panties.

"Already wet for me?" He chuckled, biting his lip before his long finger slid between her folds.

"Hmmm." she tried to suppressed her voice as his finger moved up and down so deliciously.

"Of course," He said with a smile. He went on to tease her sensitive clit with slow, torturous circles, which force her to close her eyes, biting down on her lip to suppress a shrill moan.

"Родная (darling)," the soldat cooed. "You can scream as loud as you want. Let me hear those pretty noises, yeah?"

Y/N thought to reply but her own breath hitches when that one finger that has been circling her hole finally dips in, proceeding to spread her open for more.

She moaned louder this time, "Soldat..." The movement was completely involuntary; when her hand latch on to hold his wrist as her thighs try to squeeze shut at the feeling of him pressing another finger into her wet stretching cunt.

But, of course he was quick to spread her legs back open, preventing her to shy away.

"p-please soldat, ahh." She mewled, scratching the metal of his arm.

The soldat nibbled on the shape of her ears as he hushed, "There, there darling. Open up for me." His two long, metal fingers thrusts and rubs the inside of her pulsating pussy, occasionally scissoring her cunt as he took her right hand into his fleshed one; intertwining her fingers with his.

Her other hand scrambled to dug into his thigh as she arched her back, grinding her hips down against his metal hand. The soldat smirked proudly at her reaction, moving his fingers a little faster, a little rougher. Just enough to make her whine and move against him in search of more stimulation.

She cried out as his thumb circled her clit, "Ahhh fuck" she moaned shamelessly, while his eyes followed each jerk of her body as if he was memorizing it all.

"Hmm, you're so wet, Родная (darling). So warm too." The soldat hissed as he felt his hand were soaking by the minute. The muffled sound of his thrusts against her wet heat filled the room.

He looked down to her hidden pussy; his hand covered by the panties she was wearing, "Look down baby, open your eyes and look down." he lured her with low groan.

Completely loss in bliss, she complied without asking any question. Both the soldat and Y/N was looking at the same sight, the same shape of his hand clinging tight to the fabric, barely hidden under the thin layer of her panties, moving up and down; in and out of her pussy.

Somehow, watching the way it moves made her closer to her orgasm.

In one swift move, the soldat lifted her slightly to pull the barrier off by the waistband. An animalistic groan rumbled from deep within his chest, when he was completely revealed to the sinful sight of her naked pussy.

So wet and full with his fingers.

The soldat teasingly entered a third finger into her, stretching her out so good that she felt tears prick her eyes. Y/N's head snapped forward along with a buck of her hips. "S-soldat,, ahhhh" Her whines grew louder than before and she felt the flame in her stomach growing yet it wasn’t enough.

"Look at you. Look how well you're taking me. My darling is such a good girl, isn't she?" The soldat sounds sickeningly sweet when he murmured in her ears.

He pressed his thumb harder against her swollen clit, rubbing hard and fast circles as he pumped his fingers knuckle deep in and out of her cunt, causing her to gasp from the sensation.

He twisted and curled his fingers around to find that delicious spot inside of her, giving that delicious friction as he fucked her open. The noises coming from her pussy were so lewd, so crude and it only spurred him on.

"Sounds so perfect, Родная (darling). These pretty noises from your lips up here." The soldat murmured as he kissed the corner of her lips, "and down here." his fingers pumped faster, curling over and over again, creating the lewd squelching sounds of her juices leaking out.

Almost seeing stars, Y/N moaned desperately, "Cummin',, so good, 'm cumming." Oh, how sweet does her moans sounded in the soldat's ears.

"Already, Родная (darling)?" he groaned as he felt her hole pulsated, "But you need more, little one." He persuaded her edge a little more; but with the way he was fucking into her weeping pussy, she certainly wasn't able handle it anymore.

She whined needily as she shook her head, "Wanna cum now, please soldat ohh god please please please." She begged deliriously.

The soldat hummed as he worked his fingers up her hole, "Oh darling, you don't need to beg for it. You're so precious, I'd give you anything." He mumbled against her cheek as he kisses her, "Now, cum for me. Let me see you wet my bed, Родная (darling). Go on, cum."

All words die in the back of her throat when a he cooed at her. She threw her head back as a squeak of whine dies in her mouth; eyes squeezing shut, her body tensing as the soldat makes sure that she rides out the high for as long as she should.

"That's it darling, cum for your soldat. give it to me,, aahhh" He motioned, forming an 'O' with his mouth as she clamp down on his fingers; with his wide eyes looking down at her exposed pussy. Her orgasm gushed and flowed out onto his hand, dripping on the sheet as she quietly cry out in pleasure.

"So pretty," he praised, as his fingers kept pumping slowly in and out of her pussy, "So gorgeous, cumming so hard for me," he grunts in her ears as her high begins to settle.

He pull out his fingers, leaving her feeling empty for the sudden lost of touch. But that didn't last long when he proposed something else.

"One more time Родная (darling), with me." He moaned he sunk his metal hand into his pants and pull out his aching cock. The soldat tugs himself in his palm, rubbing the wetness on his hand around his length before settling it between her throbbing cunt.

Y/N didn't manage to let our her protest when he intercepted her, "Won't put it in, darling. Just..." his words linger as he squeezed her plush thighs together, engulfing his warm cock between them, "...wanna snuggle in between your thighs, Куколка (little one)."

"So keep them pressed together, okay?" the brunnete coaxed as his hands took a hold on her, "Will you do that for me?" The soldat asked sweetly.

She gave a small nod of affirmation, looking down at where the soldat's hands squishing both side of her thighs. The feeling of his length throbbing, wet with her slick, had her squeezing her thighs together more.

"That's my sweet girl. Promise you, it'll feel so good, darling." He let out a pleasurable groan as his hips jerked all the way forward, his skin meeting the back of her thighs while the head of his cock was peeking out from the other side.

With a squeeze of her hips in his hands, that will definitely leave bruises afterwards, he started to grind her into him. Back and forth, for the few experimental thrusts. And the moment her pretty little moans started to spill, he knew she needed more.

"More?" he moaned lowly, rocking his hips mindlessly.

Y/N limped back against his chest, whimpering sweetly for him as her needy little cunt drools messily all over her thighs and his cock; effortlessly making the thrust of his length between her thighs even easier.

If she was already so sensitve from him fingers before, now it's just oversimulating for her, "Hmm,, s-soldat,, that feels s-so good," she slurred, eyes rolling back.

"Yeah?" he gloated as he grunts, "Are you gonna cum again, darling? Come on, sweet one, I want to feel it." The soldat almost whimpered as he felt the thudding beat of her cunt on the stroke of his cock.

Y/N simply nodded, mouth falling open. His cock works over her sweet little pussy, nudging the sensitive bundle of nerve as he urged her to orgasm alongside his own.

He watched the way she drag her nails into the flesh of his thighs, "There she is, come on. Let it out, darling. That's it. Hmmm." His chest rumbled a deep groan. It was such a turned on for the soldat, to see the sight of him humping her legs faster until her slick finally wetting her thighs and his cock, making a mess everywhere.

Even if she has reached her high, his thrusts didn't flatter as his own orgasm was still at the edge. "Ahh,, darling,, please-- c-can't stop,," The upperside of his cock harshly rubbed between her sloppy folds, the feeling of the creamy mess between her thighs, making him fucked her faster.

The soldat whined needily into her neck as he drag her tightness back and forth. "So good, don't wanna stop." he squirmed as his voice hitched into a needy whimper, letting his head fall back to the headboard, his disheveled hair hanging by his face, some of it sticking onto his sweaty skin.

The room echoed with the several sinful sounds; his whimpers, her mewls, their skins slapping, the bed creaking, the wetness squelching.

It was such a dream for the soldat, especially when her folds spread around his fat cock every time he rolled his hips forward. The sight was beyond compelling, addictive to a certain extend.

"S-soldat,, please i'm,,hmmm,, sensitive." She can feel how thighs burned from the friction, and her slit abused with pleasure.

The soldat leaned into her until his hot breath blew across her neck, "Just a little more, Родная (darling)? Please? Wanna cum around your soft thighs, between your pretty pussy. You'll let me, right sweet one? You'll let me make a mess all over you? Paint you with my cum. You'll look so gorgeous, Родная (darling)"

His filthy thoughts started to spill out uncontrollably, as his body trembled in pure pleasure. His heaving chest rested on her small back when he whimpered, almost forcing her on her knees, pushing her down the mattress.

He wanted that so bad.

Just fuck her thighs and folds while she's on all fours, abusing her body for his pleasure and maybe slot the tip of his cock inside that tight cunt just before he cum, give that greedy little cunt a taste of his load, but he rather than that the soldat hold back on his thought, because truthfully he very much wanted to make a mess all over her right now.

His mouth sucking on her neck, leaving another one of his mark on her skin; one of many between those shades of purples and reds.

"Cumming for you, darling." He moaned loudly, eyes locked between her thighs, as his leaking cockhead occasionally peeks out. "Have so much cum for you,, gonna cream all over these thighs" He groaned, clenching his teeth as his cock throbs.

She clenched tighter as a unexpected orgasm were coming fast, letting out a desperate squeal as she reach her high. He growled at the feeling of her gushing pussy, fucking their orgasm into a higher level ecstacy.

The rolls of his hips were flattering into a slower and and sensual tempo, as both of them watched his cock; the way it pulsed and throbbed wildly, before white spurts of his hot cum started gushing from the little slit.

The soldat trembled through his orgasm, mouth falling open as he moaned lewdly at the sight of her skin being painted by his seemingly endless amount of cum.

Y/N panted heavily as her lips hanged open; failed words just at the tips of her tongue, unable to be formed properly. It didn't take long for the drowsiness to cloud her eyes, caused by the aftershock of the pleasure.

"There, there." The soldat cooed breathlessly in her ear, "So pretty, darling." Pampering the mark on her skin with gentle kisses, "So good for me." He mumbled as he languidly thrusts his cock, stroking the sides of her thighs, memorizing the sight of their wet mess.

Her body felt so good and satisfied, and the lid of her eyes slowly flutter into a longer close. She didn't hear much of his praises as he as laid her down, especially when his voice going in and out of her ears, as she was fighting through the temptation of slumber.

But, her body absolutely remembered how soft his touches on her skin, and the warm of the wet cloth swiping on the burn of her inner thighs, carefully over her swollen cunt.

"Love you, my precious darling." She couldn't make up what he was whispering under his breath. But she remembered the soldat pulling her close to his chest as he laid her on top of him, and the sweet kiss on her forehead before complete darkness engulf her sight.

"Your soldat loves you so much."

<< Part I || Part III >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

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#winterarmyyfics #welcome home soldat au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier x you #winter soldier × reader #winter soldier!bucky #bucky smut

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btssavedmylifeblr · 25 days

Text

Void - Part 9 - Tuesday (M)

title banner by @rude–jude♡

Genre: Sci-fi with a little angst and a LOT of smut

Pairing: BTS x Reader (yup - all seven)

Summary: You are the only female crew member on a 12 year space mission with seven handsome men. The sexual tension is real, y’all.

Word Count: 5.7k

Part 9 / ?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Warnings: explicit sexual content, entirely too much discussion about semen, some jealousy, possessiveness and slut-shaming, semi-accidental voyeurism

__________

A rush of cold air against your sweaty skin makes you shiver. It’s much cooler out here in the hallway than in the steamy sleep pod behind you. You leave Jungkook behind in the sleep pod, still getting his clothes back on, but your lingering arousal stays with you.

You’ve barely made it two steps into the hallway when the door across from you opens. Jimin leans against the door frame. Damn, he looks good. He has the sleeves of his dark blue jumpsuit tied around his waist, leaving him in just a loose white t-shirt that rides up his arms as he crosses them.

“Well, good morning to you,” he says. “And what have you been up to this morning?” The smirk on his face makes it clear he knows damn well what you’ve been up to this morning.

“Umm…” You wiggle your hips in discomfort, the remnants of Jungkook sliding between your thighs.

Mercifully, Jimin doesn’t actually make you tell him what you’ve been up to. “Do you have a minute to talk?” he asks, beckoning you to join him in his pod.

Lord, you really don’t want to have an awkward relationship conversation with Jimin with Jungkook’s semen still inside you. You try to brush him off. “I have a lot of work to do this morning, Jimin.”

He snorts. “Seems like you’ve already gotten a lot done.” He lets the statement hang there as he smirks at you again. It’s very annoying how hot he is right now.

The click of the door latch behind you startles you into action. The last thing you want is to be trapped in this narrow hallway with both Jimin and Jungkook. “Yeah, okay,” you say, diving into Jimin’s pod before Jungkook sees you.

“So should I plan on waking up to the sound of you fucking other men every morning or only on Tuesdays?” Jimin asks as he closes the door.

“Well, not on Thursdays.” You are trying to flirtatiously deflect, but irritation flashes across Jimin’s face.

“Yes, well,” he mutters. “I guess I’ll just wait my turn.”

“Hey, you suggested sharing first,” you reply defensively.

“With one man, not six.”

“Why does the number matter?” You’re already carving yourself into pieces to make them all happy, why did it matter how many? “You’ll still get your turn.”

“Bah!”Jimin stomps his foot in frustration. “I’m not some toddler who is bad at sharing a toy! I don’t want to have you just because it’s my turn.” He almost reaches for you again, but drops his hands in defeat. “I want you to want me.”

You sigh. “I do want you, Jimin.” Even first thing in the morning, with his dark hair falling loosely over his forehead, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. How can you explain that you are genuinely and specifically attracted to all of your crew members without sounding like a floozy? “I’ve wanted you ever since I watched that damn video of yours. And long before that too.”

“Really?” He bites his plush lower lip. “How long?”

You fold your arms and lean back against the other side of the pod. Memories come back to you of your space walk training at the bottom of the ICSE pool. Jimin always hated the overly warm training suits and would strip out of them long before reaching the men’s locker room. His sweaty t-shirts would stick to his skin, slightly translucent. It was impossible to keep your eyes off him as he’d laugh with the other guys and brush his hair back off his forehead, indifferent to your presence. “Longer than you’ve wanted me,” you finally answer.

His eyes widen in surprise. “On Earth?” he asks.

You nod. You chastise your past self for ever thinking that your insatiable thirsting for your crew wouldn’t become a problem eventually.

“Shit.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I had no idea.” He steps closer to you. “You were always so closed off.”

“Well, I’m not supposed to want you. Wanting you is highly inconvenient.”

He smiles as he leans in. “But you just can’t help yourself?” He glances down to your lips.

“Oh, don’t look so smug.” You push against his chest as his hands find their way around your waist.

“I’m allowed to be smug.” He rests his forehead against yours. “The hottest woman in the universe wants me.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m the only woman in your—“

But his lips are on yours before you can finish your sentence, one hand gripping your waist as the other finds its way to the nape of your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

All your arousal that had been simmering just below the surface comes rushing back as his fingers caress your neck and along your jaw. His lips are just the right balance of soft and firm. You moan as he breaks away from your lips to begin kissing down the side of your neck.

“But then how can you only want me on Thursdays?” he asks between kisses. “I want you every day. Mondays. Tuesdays. Wednesdays. All the time. God, I haven’t even bothered to remember what day of the week it is for the last two years and now it’s all I can think about.”

“I obviously don’t only want you on Thursdays.” You gasp as his hand finds your breast over your jumpsuit, closer to the surface then it would normally be since you abandoned your shirt with Jungkook. “I’m just trying to be fair.”

“Fairness is overrated.” He sucks on the junction of your neck and collarbone as you tilt your head back to give him more access. “Shit, are you not wearing a shirt?”

His hand is on your zipper before you can answer, tugging it down to discover the answer for himself. “Good lord,” he mutters, hands caressing your bare sides and breasts. “Where is your shirt?”

“I’m having a bit of a laundry problem.” You run your fingers through his hair, holding tight as he peels down your bra and runs his tongue across your nipple. “Somehow all my clothes are covered in cum.”

He groans out loud at that, sinking to his knees as he kisses down your belly, following the opening in your jumpsuit. “Shit, really? Jungkook?” And then he pauses and looks up at you. “What did he do?”

“You really want to know?” You ask and Jimin nods. You laugh. “It’s more what I did to him.”

“Tell me,” he urges. “And take this off.” He tugs at the bottom of your zipper.

“Made him beg.” You shrug out of the jumpsuit, in your bra and panties once again. Your panties stick to you where Jungkook’s remnants have merged with your own arousal. Jimin’s eyes are glued to them. “Rode him until he came inside me.”

Jimin licks his lips and looks up at you. “Can I see?”

You tilt your head curiously. “That doesn’t bother you?”

He laughs a little, shaking his head. “Maybe it will later, but right now, it’s just super hot.”

A whole new rush of heat runs through you as you slide your panties down. This is the dirtiest thing you’ve ever done. One man kneeling rapturously in front of you to see you covered in the release of someone else. It’s debauched and it’s glorious. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if you should stop this and wait for Jimin’s assigned day, but your logical brain vacated its post the moment Jimin knelt in front of you.

“You do like being messy, don’t you?” He runs a careful finger along your labia and your legs tremble. “Doesn’t matter whose cum it is, does it?”

“Fuck, Jimin, please.” You tug on his hair, needing him to do something, anything.

He gathers a glob on his finger before flicking it to the floor. He stands up and kisses you again, the hand sticky with cum now caressing your cheek. It’s both tender and filthy. And then he’s turning you around to face the wall of the pod. “Bend over.”

Your legs are trembling so hard you have to cling to the wall, but you allow him to guide you down so you’re bent at ninety degrees, hands on the wall, ass out. You hear him strip out of his clothes and then a finger slips inside you.

“God, you’re so wet.” His hands grip your hips as he replaces his finger with his cock. “How many times did he get you off?”

Jimin eases his way into you and the tenderness makes you groan. “He didn’t,” you pant.

“Amateur,’ Jimin scoffs. He reaches around to your front and finds your sensitive clit. The trembling in your legs gets stronger as he begins rolling his hips.

“He wanted to,” you gasp. “Didn’t let him.”

“Don’t even care about your own pleasure, huh? Just want to take all the cock you can?” He pairs the teasing with a firm pressure from both inside and out and you’re shattering around him, unable to deny how much it turns you on to be used by them all.

You hear the smile in Jimin’s voice, how proud he is of himself, as he tightens his grip on your hips and speeds up his pace.

“You’re mine now though. You were mine first and you’ll always be mine. Whenever any of them fuck you, I’ll fuck them out of you. Replace them with me. The only cum you’ll be carrying around inside you is mine.”

He stills, leans over to kiss your back and neck as he fills you up. You can feel his self-satisfied grin against the skin of your back.

He slides out of you, patting your ass as he goes. Your whole body flushes as yet more cum leaks from you. God, you’re a mess. He kneels down behind you and picks up your panties, sliding them back up your legs.

“That’s better,” he says as he slides them up and over your ass, trapping his cum against you.

“Uh, thanks,” you reply, completely at a loss for what to say as a weird cold feeling begins churning in your stomach. You have the sudden worry that Jimin is going to expect every day to go like this, even those that aren’t his. “Gonna go clean up now.”

Jimin grins and kisses your cheek. “See you soon,” he whispers.

______________

And so you find yourself once again attempting to de-sperm yourself in the space toilets. Another tinge of doubt washes over you as you stare at the flimsy compostable toilet paper and contemplate trying to do this every day for the next 12 years. Is that what you’ve committed yourself to? Multiple times a day? Multiple men per day? Surely they will grow bored of you eventually, right? This falls way outside your mission parameters. Maybe you should call this whole thing off.

Despite your best efforts with the toilet paper, you’re still gross and sticky. Your jumpsuit and underwear are gross and sticky too. There’s nothing for it. You need a shower and some clean clothes.

Showers weren’t an everyday luxury on the Minos. You could only manage once or twice a week without outpacing the water reclamation system. Technically you weren’t due for another day or two, but you couldn’t wait any longer.

The showers and the laundry machines sit in the same section of the ship near the water tanks. Before heading there, you jog back to your sleep pod to gather up the rest of your dirty laundry. Jungkook is long gone. Your shirt/make-shift blindfold lies thrown in a corner. As you gather up your scattered clothes, the stink of your laundry makes another way of regret wash over you. You were only one and half days into your new plan and all your clothes are covered in bodily fluids. This is exhausting.

The laundry machines and showers also happen to sit right next to Yoongi’s workshop and you can’t help wondering about him as you walk in that direction. You haven’t seen him since your striptease in the kitchen.

“Okay, I’m in,” he had sent you. It betrayed so very little of what he’s thinking. And the question of what exactly he wants from you is still unanswered. But at least he has admitted to wanting you. Your stride slows as you pass his workshop, scanning with your peripheral vision while trying to look like you aren’t checking to see if he’s in there.

But the workshop is dark and empty. Whatever his feelings for you, they will remain a mystery for now.

God, what is the matter with you? You’ve already fucked two men this morning and here you are pining for a third. That can’t be normal, can it? The ICSE really fucked up when they decided to send the world’s horniest woman on this mission.

You continue to chastise yourself as you load your laundry into the machines. The laundry machines sit in a vestibule just outside the showers with a door to the hallway that locks, so you are able to strip off the clothes you are wearing now as well and run them through the laundry while you shower. Removing your wet underwear makes you cringe. How have you managed to go from “first woman to pass the orbit of Mars” to “woman with two different men’s semen in her underwear”?

You’re so preoccupied with your self-slut-shaming that you don’t hear the water running behind the shower door. The door was unlocked and there weren’t any clothes in the machines, so you just assumed the shower was empty. But you are wrong.

Flight Engineer Min Yoongi is standing in the shower completely naked and dripping wet. His back is to you as he washes his face. His long dark hair runs down over his shoulders. When did his hair get so long?

He doesn’t see you, face still covered in soap, but turns his head as the door clicks open. “Hey! Occupied!” he calls out.

“Oh shit!” you curse, backing up. Shit. You’re naked too. Shit. All your clothes are in the washing machine and must be soaking wet by now. You attempt to cover yourself with your hands as you debate how to get out of here.

“Oh, is that you, Officer?” he chuckles, wiping the soap and water from his eyes before turning to greet you, smirk on his face. “I thought I wouldn’t be seeing you until Friday. Come to get a sneak peek?”

Your face is on fire, you are so embarrassed. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

He looks totally calm, running his gaze up and down you luxuriously. “No worries. We are in a ‘consensual sexual relationship’ now, aren’t we? Or should I be hiding my dick from you Saturday to Thursday?”

His demeanor is infuriating and you feel so foolish. “Why didn’t you lock the door?”

He shrugs. “Tuesdays are my shower day. No one is ever here but me.” He looks you up and down again and there is really no hiding anything from him. “The real question is what are you doing here?”

Shit. How do you get out of this conversation? “I, umm, needed a shower.”

He laughs, turns off the water and shakes his head, long hair sending drops of water flying around the sealed room. “You know this plan of yours is gonna fuck with our whole shower schedule, right?”

It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying as he wraps his hand around his hair and pulls it up into a bun behind his head.

“When did your hair get so long?” Your voice is higher pitched than normal and you grimace.

“Oh yeah…” He tucks one of the shorter loose strands behind his ear. “It’s been getting in my way. I was going to ask if you might have time to cut it on Friday.” He pulls a towel from the wall behind him and wraps it around his waist.

“Oh, no, no, no…” you rush out, heart skipping a beat at the allusion to your day with him.

“Oh.” He frowns. “Okay. That’s fine.”

“No, I just mean, don’t cut it.” You giggle nervously. “I just mean, uh, it looks good. As is.”

“Aha.” He grins and you watch a water drop glide from his jaw down his throat. “Well, in that case, I imagine there are more enjoyable things we could be doing…” He walks closer, and reaches toward you as your heart races. You close your eyes and give up trying to cover yourself as his warm wet body comes right into your personal space. “On Friday,” he finishes, reaching the door handle behind you and popping it open.

God, you hate him. “Um, yeah, sounds good,” you mutter as you dive out of his way.

“Looking forward to it,” he replies, eyes dark with intention, before heading out the door. “Enjoy your shower, Officer.”

______________

A shower has you feeling much more like yourself again. But when you get to the kitchen for breakfast, you nearly walk right back out when you see who’s gathered around the table.

Jin, Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung are all sitting at the table, munching on their breakfasts. The prospect of sitting next to three different men you’ve watched orgasm in the last 24 hours makes the idea of eating feel entirely impossible. Not to mention the very hot man you are just pretending to sleep with. How has your life gotten this messy?

You are about to flee down the hallway when Jin looks up and makes direct eye contact with you.

“Good morning!” Jin greets you and suddenly all four men’s eyes are on you. “Come sit with us!” He pats the chair next to him. “Taehyung made scorched rice.”

Your brain helpfully chooses this moment to remind you that the last time you saw Jin, you came on his face.

Taehyung nods enthusiastically and mumbles through a mouthful of rice. “There’s plenty left.” He swallows and gestures to the pot on the cooktop.

Jungkook springs up from his seat. “I’ll get you some!” He pulls out the chair between him and Jimin, not the one Jin was suggesting. “Have a seat.”

“Oh, uh, thanks, but I need some coffee too.”

“I’ll get it!” Jimin pops up too. “You rest.” He also clearly gestures at the seat that would put you next to him and Jungkook. Jin frowns slightly, while Taehyung bites back a laugh.

“Oh, okay…” You run out of objections and sit down at the table while Jungkook and Jimin run to bring you breakfast. “This really isn’t necessary,” you mumble, but they’re not listening.

Jungkook returns first with a bowl of stew and a plate of scorched rice for you and then sits down next to you. The memory of him on his knees begging to touch you flashes across your mind.

You take a bite of your food as the other men at the table resume eating. Jimin returns a minute later with your coffee. You take a sip and grimace at the too sweet concoction. Jimin still doesn't know how you take your coffee.

“Something wrong?” Jimin asks.

You swallow it down. “No, it’s fine. Thank you.”

There’s a few moments of silence while everyone eats, before Jin nudges Jungkook with his elbow. “Seems like someone got a pretty early start this morning, huh?” he says teasingly.

“Jin!” you gasp as Jungkook chokes on his food. “You can’t just say things like that!” You pat Jungkook on the back to make sure he doesn’t die.

“What?” Jin shrugs. “Isn’t everything supposed to be out in the open now?”

“Mmm,” Taehyung nods, hiding his mouth behind his hand as he laughs. “Like the bonobos.”

“Fucking bonobos.” Jimin groans.

“It seems more awkward not to talk about it.” Jin continues. “We all heard him in there. Why pretend otherwise?”

Jungkook finally manages to swallow. “You heard us?”

“The walls aren’t thick,” Jin laughs. “Impressive that you can go two rounds that early in the morning. Ah, to be young.”

“Two rounds?” Jungkook frowns in confusion. Your entire face feels like it will melt off. Jimin says nothing, but his hand finds your knee under the table next to him and squeezes it.

“Speaking of,” Taehyung interrupts. “Can I take you on a date tomorrow night?”

“We can take you on dates?” Jungkook asks.

“Um yeah, sure.” You answer both questions at once. “Though it’s not like there’s really anywhere to go.”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan,” Taehyung nods smugly.

“Can I take you on a date today?” Jungkook interjects. “Or do you only get one shot per day?”

“Uh… I don’t know. I didn’t really make rules that specific.”

Jimin’s thumb traces small circles around your knee and it’s a reminder that you’re not really sticking to even the limited rules you set out in the first place. Seven men is entirely too many men.

The conversation is mercifully interrupted by a shipwide message on your tablets. It’s from the commander.

“A reminder to all crew members that any activities of an intimate nature are to be conducted in the privacy of the sleep pods. They are not appropriate for the public areas of the ship, which are monitored and recorded.”

The choice to put this in a written communication rather than an in-person conversation is surprisingly passive aggressive for Namjoon.

Taehyung looks at you. “What did you do?”

“She took all her clothes off in the kitchen!” Jin laughs.

“Excuse you! I covered the camera! You’re the one who ran me ass-first into our commanding officer!”

Jin sighs in delight. “Man, you should have seen his face.”

Jimin’s hand slides further up your leg and you’ve had enough. “Thank you all so much for breakfast, but Hoseok must need me in the lab by now.” You gather the remainder of your breakfast into your arms and back out of the kitchen. “I’ll see you later.” You’re not even sure which man you’re talking to. All of them really. There’s no escape. You will see all of them later.

____________

For all your attraction to Hoseok and disappointment that he hasn’t signed your form yet, at the moment, you are a bit relieved. Hoseok puts on another science podcast and the two of you settle into your work for the day, safe in the knowledge that no one will come to proposition you.

Or so you think until the end of the day, when Jungkook shows up at the lab door with a large plastic storage bin under one arm. Hoseok spots him first.

“Hey, JK, what’s up?” he asks. “Do you have more samples for us?” He gestures to the box under Jungkook’s arm.

“Oh, no.” Jungkook swallows, glancing down at the box. “It’s actually food.”

“Food?” Hoseok asks.

Jungkook steps farther into the lab. “I was hoping to treat our biologist to a dinner date.”

“Oh!” You and Hoseok are surprised in unison.

“So you two are dating now?” Hoseok asks, looking back and forth between the two of you with raised eyebrows. “I thought this whole thing was just...”

He trails off without saying the rest of the thought out loud and a frown line appears between his eyebrows.

“I’m not really clear on myself.” Jungkook takes this as an invitation to put the bin down on the lab counter and turn to you. “What are the rules exactly? Are we dating? Are we dating all the time or only on Tuesdays? Is it time-bound and when does it end? Does it end at midnight or can we fall asleep together? Can I hold your hand? Can I kiss you? Can I only kiss you on Tuesdays?”

Hoseok’s frown deepens and you rush to cut off Jungkook’s torrent of questions. “It’s not dating,” you try to explain. “We’re not…It’s not a relationship. I’m just trying to help people fill the void of what they’re missing from Earth. Like if they miss dates, we can have dates.”

“But it doesn’t mean anything?” Hoseok asks and you are totally stumped for what he wants the answer to that question to be. “You’re just pretending to be together one day a week?”

“It’s not personal…” you reply, glancing back and forth between the two men, unsure which one you should be reassuring right now.

But how could it be personal when you’re the only option? Like obviously they wouldn’t be choosing to date you on Earth. None of them chose you at all. They just miss sex and relationships and you can help them with that. But you can’t let yourself pretend it’s real. Or that it’s about you.

“Nevermind.” Hoseok begins packing up his stuff. “It’s none of my business. I’ll leave you to your date.” The word “date” has a sarcastic bite to it that is unusual to hear in Hoseok’s voice. The temperature of the room seems to drop as he slings his supply bag over his shoulder and leaves.

Jungkook turns away from you and busies himself unpacking food from his box onto the counter. His shoulders are a bit slumped and you really wish you could have talked to him alone. “It’s nothing fancy,” he mutters. “Just some sandwiches and drinks.”

You walk over and rest your hand on his shoulder. “That’s really thoughtful, Jungkook, thank you.” He freezes for a moment when you rest your hand on his back, then sighs and leans into your touch.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur as you rub his back. He tilts his neck back and forth and groans in a pleased way. “We can hold hands. If you want. And you can kiss me.”

That’s all the greenlight Jungkook needs as he spins around and pulls you into his arms, He gives you a hungry kiss, then pulls back. “God, I would love you seven days a week if you’d let me.”

“I know, Jungkook.” A real tinge of sadness creeps into the edges of your mind. You can imagine a world in which it’s just you and Jungkook, passing the time to Europa in an endless string of orgasms and increasingly athletic sexual positions on every surface of the ship as he finds new ways to get you off. You hear Yoongi’s voice chastising you again. Nobody actually gets what they want.

But your regrets quickly melt away the more you kiss him. His kisses are full of fire and desperation. If anything, he seems even more eager than he was this morning. The memory of him kneeling before you, begging to be inside you, is intoxicating.

“I owe you an orgasm,” he murmurs between kisses.

You can get on board with that plan. “Maybe we skip dinner,” you say as you start steering him toward the door.

He finds your zipper. “Aww, but I worked so hard. I can get you off and we can still have time for dinner.”

Your hand stops his from pulling down the zipper any further. “Jungkook, this is the lab.��

“So?” Jungkook is too focused on running his hands up and down your hips and ass over your clothes.

“So…” you grab his hands to get his focus back on your face. “Namjoon said sleep pods only.”

There is more to it than that. Something about the lab feels particularly like a betrayal. But it’s hard to put into words.

“Oh come on, he just doesn’t want us on the cameras.” He starts guiding you by your hips toward the lab bench in the corner next to the door. “But I know where all the camera blindspots are.”

“I don’t know…”

“Just let me show you.” Continuing to kiss you, he slowly backs you up into the wall just to the right of the door. He leans his forearms on the wall above you, caging you against the wall in between the door and the lab counter. “Pull out your tablet,” he commands.

The camera feed of the lab visible on your tablet appears to show an empty room. “See,” he says, kissing your neck. “No one here. Nothing to see.”

He picks you up and sets your ass on the edge of the lab bench. You like being manhandled by him more than you care to admit. He wiggles his eyebrows mischievously. “And this gets you to just the right height…” And then he’s dropping to his knees again.

“I don’t know…” Your position up on the counter allows you to see out the window in the center of the lab door and out into the hallway. “What if someone sees us?” You want to sound concerned, but honestly the idea has you squeezing your legs together enthusiastically at the risk.

“They can’t see us from the main hall. They’d have to be coming into the lab.” Jungkook’s hand cups your jaw and turns your face back down to him. “Watch me.”

God, he’s so hot. Muscular hands and large eyes fixed entirely on you.

“Okay, okay, but be quick about it.” You shuck your jumpsuit and underwear down your legs.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He starts tracing little circles with his fingers up one thigh and trailing soft kisses up the other. “You remember when you were cutting my hair?”

“Yes….” you groan as his fingers reach the very top of your thigh, just short of where you really want them.

“And you were pulling my hair and using it to get my head in just the right position?”

You nod, ability to speak temporarily suspended as his mouth reaches the tender skin where your thigh meets your hip.

“Well this is all I’ve been dreaming about since then. So feel free to hold on.” He scoots even closer on his knees, resting your legs on his shoulders and guiding your hands to his hair.

You weave your hands through his soft dark hair and he groans. Arousal floods through you at the sound, your body responding in kind to how turned on he is. And then he dives in.

He starts slow, but firm, no hesitation. Long slow strokes of his tongue around your clit, holding a steady rhythm.

“Fuck,” you gasp. “How are you perfect at this too?”

He chuckles, so self-satisfied. “I’m a fast learner. Now will you relax and stop thinking?”

And you give yourself permission to let your guard down. To close your eyes. To relax into the sensations, the pleasure, the slow steady build. You’re so wet and open you barely notice when he slides a finger inside you, but you do jolt forward when he matches that steady pressure on your clit with internal pressure from his finger. It’s so good, you moan out loud and grip his head tighter.

Your eyes remain tightly shut, but you can hear his grin as he groans. “I’m going to make you come so hard.” The pride in his voice, the pleasure, it’s irresistible.

And the pleasure builds and builds until it is overwhelming, almost beyond what you can tolerate, hands clenched in his hair for dear life, unsure if you’re trying to pull him off or press him in further. But the stubborn man holds his position, even as your hips buck against his face. “Fuck, Jungkook, fuck…”

And you’re breaking, shattering into pieces under his tongue and clenching hard around his fingers.

“Ugh…” you groan, leaning your head back on the lab cabinet behind you. Your breathing slows as you calm down, fingers still tangled in Jungkook’s hair as you open your eyes.

There’s a face in front of yours when you open your eyes. His eyes are so dark that it takes you longer than it should to realize that they're not Jungkook’s eyes. Jungkook is still down on his knees as you process that the other man is standing in the hallway, watching you through the window.

“Shit,” you gasp, yanking Jungkook away from you. “Hoseok…”

How long has he been there? How much did he see? Was he watching you? His gaze flicks up from where he’s been staring at the connection between you and Jungkook and meets your eyes. The intensity there is so overwhelming that it’s hard for you to make sense of it. Is it anger? Lust? Disgust? Then his eyes go wide as he realizes you see him and he disappears from view.

“Not exactly the name I was hoping you’d yell when you climaxed on my face…” Jungkook grumbles as he stands up and wipes his face on the sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“Shit, sorry,” You reply as you frantically fight to get your clothes back on. “He was here, he saw us. I have to go.”

“But…” Jungkook gestures across the lab. “I brought dinner.”

“Sorry,” is all you can manage before you race out into the hallway.

“Hoseok!” you yell as you run down the corridor. “Hoseok, come back!”

He’s not in the kitchen. He’s not on the bridge. “Officer Jung, report your location,” you try on your radio, but receive only silence.

You are panting by the time you reach the sleep pods. The door to his is closed. “Hoseok!” you shout as you bang on the door. “Hoseok!”

You hear shuffling around inside the sleep pod and know he’s in there. “Hoseok!” you yell, almost on the verge of tears. “Hoseok, please talk to me.”

The door opens just a crack, not enough to see him. “Please, Hoseok, I need to talk to you,” you plead.

“I… I… can’t.” he stammers. “I can’t right now. Please. Just… just go away.”

Your stomach is full of lead as you shuffle into your own sleep pod next door and rest your head and arms against the wall, desperately trying to catch your breath.

He hates you. You disgust him. You’ve betrayed everything you stand for. You’ll never be able to work in the lab again.

A small knock on the door interrupts your thought spiral.

“Hoseok?” you ask optimistically, scrambling to get up.

“No, Jungkook again.” The hot ball of shame in your guts glows even brighter.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook, I can’t right now…” If you see anyone else, you’re going to cry.

“I have dinner for you.”

“I’m sorry.” The idea of eating anything right now feels entirely impossible. “I’m not… I’m not hungry.”

A long exhale comes from the other side of the door. “Okay, goodnight.”

You collapse to the floor of your sleep pod as the weight of all your shame and guilt and irresponsible choices crashes down upon you.

_____

Part 10

#jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #ot7 x reader #void #btssavedmylifeblr

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gatorbites-imagines · 11 months

Note

Hobie x deadpool reader or spider reader

Hobie Brown x Deadpool male reader

Headcanons

I love Deadpool, who doesn’t love Deadpool? I tried to think of what Deadpool would be like in Hobies’ earth, and I just feel like he would kinda just be the same as always, except maybe with a metal aesthetic. And any chance to work my favorite music into stuff? I’m taking it.

You were Deadpool, and had been Deadpool for a long time. In the beginning it had just been your musician and artist name. Much of your music was different types of metal, with lyrics focused on judging the system and pointing fingers at its corruption.

Of course, a lot of people hated your music, but there was also those who loved it. One of them being Hobie Brown. Even before he became spiderman, hed always been a very righteous person with strong opinions about corruption and capitalism, so finding an artist who shared his views was great.

That was until you got a little too popular and stepped on the wrong people’s toes with your music and art. When you started pointing fingers at Osborn and his wild corruption, those against you grew more and more violent.

And at one of your biggest concerts to date, one that offered all the proceeds to those in need, you were assassinated right on stage. Theories would go around saying it was Osborn wanting to get rid of you, and telling everyone what would happen if they crossed him.

Panic consumed the arena after you were shot right on stage, and in the panic your body was whisked away. Deadpool became an icon in the anarchist circle, as one of the first to stand up against suppression and never back down no matter what.

Time would pass, Hobie would become Spiderman, and he would fight people like Osborn, even killing the guy with his guitar in the end.

But even after killing Osborn, the world was still in disarray, meaning a lot of work had to be done. So, when someone who went by Deadpool started popping up in stories and rumors, it caught people’s attention.

It was assumed you were just a fan, who wanted to use the legendary name of Deadpool to spread your message, or maybe the honor the original Deadpool. That was until people met you though.

You had the same clothes, only now wearing a mask. Your boots, your jacket, your spikes, and patches, even your guitar, you had it all. And on closer inspection, true fans could see it was the real thing.

You were almost like a ghost of the past, stories would go around that you were the angered spirit of the musician Deadpool, having crawled out of hell to wreak havoc on the upper class and tear out the roots of capitalism.

Hobie would want to meet you of course, you were like his hero and biggest inspiration. The first time you two would meet would be during a fight of some sort, and you’d chuck your guitar across the battlefield to nail a corrupt cop in the head before they could get a lucky shot at Hobie.

After that you two became close like two peas in a pod. Hobie would never treat you like you were someone above him, even though he had admired you for years, because he doesn’t believe in treating celebrities like gods.

Soon Deadpool and Spiderman being spotted together was a common sight, and so was seeing spiderman swing around with Deadpool in his arms or hanging on his back like a koala.

You never really take off your mask in the beginning, but when you do Hobie learns why you keep it on. You have a large scar taking up part of your head where the bullet had blown your head apart all that time ago.

You had apparently always been a mutant with a light healing factor, which had kept you alive, but you had been whisked away from Osborn researchers who wanted to use your healing factor. But in the end, they’d simply boosted your powers and you became pretty much unkillable.

This leads to you taking most of the hits during battle, since you can easily take it, anything you lose will just grow back. That doesn’t stop Hobie from worrying though, because seeing someone get their arm sliced off is pretty extreme.

Your first kiss is something you’d only have with a version of Deadpool. Hobie would be carrying your head after it’s been sliced off, and you would be asking him for a kiss and blowing him kisses from where hes carrying your head.

Now, anyone normal wouldn’t do what Hobie does, but Hobie doesn’t like to fit the mold. So, he would lift your severed but still living head and kiss you on the lips. Cue a make out until your body stumbles over and you can get your head back on.

You two never actually put a label to what you are, because that’s not the type of person you two are. But you two are pretty much dating now. You move into an apartment together, and sleep in the same bed at night, and kiss whenever you want.

Spiderman and Deadpool pretty much become icons in your community, for standing up towards oppression, and also being two hot guys who hold concerts after fights.

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forever--darling · 1 year

Text

one of us | neteyam x avatar!reader

summary: when a person's life hangs in the balance, sometimes there is only one thing to do, one thing to ask of the great mother. a consciousness transfer, but the question remains: are you strong enough to pass through the eye of eywa? lots of feelings emerge as the only option left becomes the sole possibility

pairings: neteyam x avatar!reader

word count: 11.8k

warnings/notes: finally, swearing, major angst, mention of sky people, mention of death, mention of an afterlife, lots of feelings (all mostly sad), crying, more heartbreak, with sad fluff, we're so close to the end (2/3)

series masterlist | one of us: part seven | requests are currently open for now

All energy is only borrowed, never permanent, and one day you have to give it back.

It hadn’t taken long for Neytiri and Jake to make it to the camp, the pathway completely imprinted in his memory. He couldn’t talk the whole ride as the only thought that seemed to reach his mind was a suffocating amount of guilt. The same guilt that once had rotted away in his stomach years ago when he was still a dream walker, when the sky people had long since invaded Pandora, and when he was still working under Quaritch’s terms.

That guilt almost killed him when he gained the trust of the Omatikaya people. When Home Tree was destroyed, Grace was killed, and the great war brought many warriors home to their Great Mother. Not many were sparred and those that had looked to him for the answers, the mighty Toruk Makto. It wasn’t easy and often it took guidance from many to get him to where he was today but now here he was in that forest, that same perilous feeling overtaking his senses.

He had known you were sick, not the full extent of it or how long it had been going on but he knew. Which meant as an adult, who had been watching over you, he was partly responsible. Responsible for the outcome of your life, the effect it had on his children, on his son, on his wife, on the people. He had let other commitments cloud his mind; the sky people, the new technology they were bringing back to the planet, and how they were getting closer to the village every day. He decided to focus on those things rather than checking in on you. Whatever happened he was partly responsible. As they stopped near the lab, the grey confines of it taunting him, he also knew where he was responsible, Max and Norm were too — if not more.

Jake slid off of the direhorse, Neytiri behind him as he approached the large steel door coated in scratches and dents — it somehow stood in this environment and within these elements. Neytiri stiffened at the sight of it, every part of her screaming to rush back into the forest away from the very place she deemed as evil and foreign. She had no motivation to step foot into the metal box but the thought of you, the real you left her heart clenching in her chest.

Worry was the sole reason why she followed her husband, clinging to his back. It was that along with the fact that Jake would need someone to keep him grounded. As he stared at it, the cage it had become, he felt all of his frustration come to the surface as the terrified thought crossed his mind that you were dead. Raising his clenched fist to the door, he knocked, the loud sound echoing across the trees.

The first compacted door opened and they moved inside. Neytiri felt her anxieties heighten as they stepped fully into a small compressing box. Jake stared forward through the glass of the second door, gaze locked on a human man standing in a white lab coat near the keypad for the door. He was so small, so weak, so angering. As the air decompressed in the box, the scientist clicked the keypad and the second door slid open.

Jake didn’t waste a moment. He stalked in there as if he owned the place. It felt so strange under his large blue feet after having once rolled across these tiled floors. The sight of the lab brought so many memories back to him; the link pods, the screens — so many memories, most of which he didn’t find comforting.

Max appeared on the other side of the room in his own lab coat, a worried kink in his brow. At the sight of him, Jake snarled not afraid to use his intimidating statue as he walked across the room, “Where is she?”

The demand was sharp, cold, and uncommon to be directed at Max, as he was one of Jake’s closest confidants for almost twenty years. Max blinked in surprise up at the Olo’eyktan, and at the sight of Jake in this space, he got his own flashbacks of the first day. The first day, all those years ago that Jake got his avatar. Oh, how things had changed since then.

“Where is she?” he asked again, tone just as cold as it was before.

“She’s in the back room, but—”

The two Na’vi’s pushed by Max, bending down as they moved through the doorway into a smaller more compact hallway. Max hurried after them in a state of panic as Jake refused to shut his mouth, all of his fears taking flight in ugly ways.

“What, you think I wouldn’t have realized what was going on? In case you have forgotten this isn’t my first rodeo. I used to do this and an avatar doesn’t just collapse like that unless a link process is interrupted or something is fucking wrong. So, tell me what the fuck happened!”

The room opened up in front of them with a single curtain pulled over the area to provide more privacy. Jake could see the outline of Norm’s body behind the curtain bent down and saying something. Max unable to fully find the words to calm Jake down or provide an explanation other than the truth, plucked the blue curtain into his grasp and pulled it aside.

Norm’s head snapped up in their direction, his eyes widening slightly at the site of the two tall Na’vi within the lab. He was wrapping a blanket around your exhausted frame and as the couple’s eyes fell down to the wrangled weak body, both of their shoulders dropped in devastation. The harsh furrow in Jake’s brow fell away and he found himself gripping onto the doorway to stay upright. The sight of you brought an image of Grace in her final hours to the forefront of his mind and it was difficult to swallow.

You sat, your body stuck to the mattress, slumped down as if you couldn’t even sit up. Two or three blankets were pulled up to your chest where wires stuck out connecting to monitors nearby. Jake's ears flickered at the sound of their beeping and found that the numbers of your heart rate and blood pressure should have been stronger.

IVS were hanging up beside you, the large needle lined into your arm. Your skin was ashen, sunken in, all color completely drained with large purple circles pressed along the skin below your eyes. They were barely open and he wouldn’t have believed you were actually alive if it wasn’t for the twitch in your bony finger and the steady beeping of the monitor beside you.

“She had a seizure while in the link pod. We were able to get them to stop but she is very weak,” Norm answered and stepped back from your crumbled form. One that felt less like you every day.

“Oh, Great Mother,” Neytiri found herself crying as she moved forward and fell to her knees at the side of the bed.

She wished to be anywhere but there, but the sight of you had masked all of the discomfort and the rage that was interlaced deep within her bones. Instead, all she could feel was the ache in her chest from the broken looks of her children at your avatar form that had been completely motionless in her son’s arms. She felt herself aching for the soul that was slipping through the fingers of Pandora. Her eyes took in the unfamiliar but familiar face and cried, tears welling up in her widened eyes. She found herself scanning your nose, your closed eyes, the high lift of your cheeks, and the shape of your jaw. It was you, without a doubt.

Jake was able to find his voice again, this time with a newly added edge to it, “Why was she in the link pod in the first place?”

“What?” Norm’s eyes narrowed in confusion, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why was she in there?” Jake was becoming hostile at that point. “If you knew she was sick, if you knew it was this bad, how could you let her keep doing this? Especially with the strain that it already was putting on her weak body.”

“Ma’Jake, please,” Neytiri asked, her voice gently sweeping through the tension of the room, gaining the attention of his rigid eyes. She tilted her head towards you, and they all watched as your head lulled from side to side at the many voices that filled the room. Your breaths were shallow, taking up too much energy that you couldn’t even open your eyes.

Jake lowered his voice slightly but the edge remained as he glanced back and forth from Norm to Max, “You should have stopped her.”

“You don’t think we tried? You don’t think we didn’t say something to her every day, warning her of the risks, demanding her to stop?” Max became defensive then as he stepped closer to the towering figure of one of his closest friends. His eyes narrowed, the same worry that filled Jake’s, reflected in his own. “She is not a child anymore.”

“You mean she’s not your child,” the Olo’eyktan corrected and just like that, all previous feelings were ripped from the room, leaving it in painful silence.

Both Max and Norm’s heads dropped for a moment as a thought crossed their mind — maybe they hadn’t tried hard enough. Maybe they should have powered down the system even if you ended up hating them. Maybe they should have done more to protect you even when you were never their child, their full responsibility to bear. Maybe just maybe even though you grew up before their eyes into a grown woman, they should have taken into account that it didn’t mean to cut you loose from support and guardianship altogether.

Max shook his head, almost as if he was going to regret what he was about to say, “No, she’s not.”

“She may not be yours or technically a kid anymore but when she is living under your roof, you need to have some responsibility. When she is living under your roof, she is still a child,” Jake sighed, feeling the anger start to dissipate as he sent another glance at you, at your human body. At the very body, he hadn’t seen in almost two years, not like this, not this small, this different. You had grown and would be nineteen in the next year and it showed — you had become an adult under everyone's noses. If only you had the ability and the time to make it. “How much time does she have?”

“We can’t know for sure but based on her state and how weak she is… Weeks? A month or two maybe?” Norm admitted, the state of how he found you in the link pod still pressed firmly into the front of his mind. Your faraway gaze, rigid body, and trembling lips. Your lips shook as if you were asking for time to kiss you and grant you treatment. You were barely there and laying in that damn bed, you were barely there.

“She doesn’t have a few months, not with the sky people invading. We could have serious trouble on our hands in two months. The sky people are coming, they are getting closer every day and I need a plan. A plan to protect my family, my people, and my land. I need a plan and I am not going to put a sick young woman in the line of fire. I won’t.”

Jake shook his head and stepped further into the room, looking around at the medical supplies and the neutral-colored walls. The sterile smell filled his nose. It all reminded him of the V.A. hospital when there was a big hole blown through the middle of his life. That’s what the lab reminded him of and it sent a shiver down his spine. You couldn't stay there, not like this. He wouldn’t allow it because whatever the fuck they were doing wasn’t doing shit. Even with medicine and science on their side, it had done nothing. He wasn’t about to lose another person because of his actions — he wouldn’t.

“She can’t stay here,” he suddenly said, eyes set on his wife, “We can’t leave her here. I won’t.”

Max stepped forward trying to get closer to you but Neytiri stood blocking him, “Jake, you can’t just—”

“You’ve done enough.”

The two scientists’ mouths dropped, and both of their glares widened at the tall Olo’eyktan — a man who day one had never thrown caution to the wind in his life but since becoming a leader had taken on a new role to be deliberate in his actions, think accordingly, and communicate in a way to not piss other people off. It was like that persona was gone from that room for a moment and instead it was an overprotective parent who thought they had all the answers. He was bossy, haywire, and everything that resembled a father.

Somehow his cold tone and his rapid decision weren’t justifiable enough for Max. He had seen the impossible, and as a scientist, he had detested and forced himself to not believe it. Max had seen the impossible in Jake, in the consciousness transfer, in the balance of the world that had managed to change one man's life. He had seen the impossible with the Omatikaya people but at that moment with your life hanging in that very balance, he could only look to science, in the concreteness that was medicine.

“Jake, listen to me, she is sick. This isn’t just another dress-up game where she is going to run off into the forest to become something else. She won’t survive this.”

“Are you fucking serious?” he snapped, eyes narrowing even further until they resembled golden crescents like the morning sun that crept through their tent every morning, “This has never been a game and you know that. To me, it wasn't and it sure as hell isn't to her. If you saw her out there, the way she is when she is in that body, you would know that. Except that I think a part of you already does, knows how much she wants it, and that scares the hell out of you. Especially since there is nothing else you can do for her, and it sucks. It really does... but do you hear me when I say we can do something? The people can save her.”

“What like you saved Grace,” Max shot back, the words cruel and unnecessary and he watched as Jake’s face went slack. For a moment the short scientist reveled in the image, “I know it has happened, the unexplainable. Because what you witnessed... what happened to you was the unexplainable, but Jake that's what? A one in a million. You're the exception, we all know that, but she's not you. I don't like the odds, not when I have seen it. Her virus, her illness, and I am deciding to combat it with medicine. I am choosing science’s side.”

Neytiri felt her teeth bare, sink into her lower lip, fangs glimmering from the white lights of the room. As a growl left her throat, she stepped forward protectively towards her mate, “And your medicine has done nothing. It’s done nothing!”

At that point with two pointed gazes locked down on him, Max couldn’t help but glance your way knowing that every word they spoke was true. Any worse, you could be slipping away, out of their fingers, by the end of the week. If you hadn’t been getting better with the months of treatment they had been doing, the antibiotic and the fluids, what else could they do to help you? There wasn’t another option, and he knew right then science or not this was your last chance.

Norm looked from you to Jake and within that mutual stare, they shared an understanding, a silent understanding. Stepping forward, his palm fell to Max’s shoulder, “This is her only chance."

"Norm—"

"She’s not going to get better because she hasn't yet and you know that. This is her last chance. And yes, god forbid, Eywa forbid that it doesn’t work, that we somehow lose her... at least it will be on her own terms and in a place, she’d want to spend her last moments.”

The words everyone had been avoiding were out in the air and it struck a chord, one that left them all in silence and complete denial. Only, because no one expected this. When you had been given your avatar six months prior, no one thought to think this is where you would end up, chained to a bed with the only thing to save you being that body. No one thought either that you would have fallen in love with the forest, the people, and the eldest son of the Olo'eyktan either, but you did. It happened. It all had happened and now it was beginning to unravel in front of them and suddenly they were being faced with a choice.

You were dying and the sky people were coming. Another war was soon to take place and Jake and Neytiri were making plans for the future Olo'eyktan. Neteyam would be Olo'eyktan one day whether you would be there to see it or not. It all was happening and none of them would have thought that when it was, you would be in the middle of a whispered conversation with the Mother herself.

Max wiped his eyes from behind his glasses and sent one last longing look to you. You once had been the little girl who'd sit on his lap for hours staring at a digital image of an avatar's brain with complete awe. Now there you lay, all grown up and possibly about to get the life you had always wanted. Your choice had been made up about the life you wanted as soon as you had entered that avatar body. And your choice would be his choice.

“Just, if you’re going to do it… The consciousness transfer, do it sooner rather than later. If you want her to survive it, you will do it as soon as you can. She's already lost a lot of energy.”

It was the last thing anyone said and as Jake nodded to Max, reassuringly, his tough-guy act dropped immediately. Almost like they had come to a mutual understanding: one father to another.

From that moment on, there was a continuous movement of people in and out of the room. All bustling as they worked to disconnect your monitors, pull out the IVS, wrap your body up in blankets to keep you warm against the cold air, and secure a mask tightly over your face. Then just like that, you were ready and leaving as if it was always how it was destined to be. You, leaving. Norm and Max each took you in for one last time as Jake and Neytiri exited the lab, both hoping they would never have to be there again.

Jake couldn’t help but stare down at you, so small in his arms, so unlike the warrior he had gotten the privilege to watch the last six months. You had transformed just as he once had, gaining the wings like an Ikran, and you would fly away, not daring to look back. Evident in the lingering glances you sent his son and how you absorbed every part of the forest, you would give anything to be transferred into your other body. Then more so as with each night you spent in the forest, in your avatar body, the longer you would stay awake. Like you were hoping to forever prolong the linking process to that one still moment in time. Now, after all this time, you could have it.

As Jake climbed on his direhorse, he heard the shift in your breath along with seeing the small tremble in your body — the first sign of movement he had seen at all. Glancing down at you again, he found your eyes softly staring up at him, through heavy lids. He glanced at Neytiri then back down at you, taking your tiny cold hand in his own. He stared at his five fingers and compared them to yours as your soft voice filled his ears.

“Don’t let Neteyam see me like this.”

“She’s very weak,” Mo’at expressed, honestly as her fingers danced across your closed eyes.

From the moment you were brought back to the village, in your human form, it was like you were finally awake. Finally, seeing the world as more than a recurrent fever dream. It was a world you had only ever witnessed through another pair of eyes and someone else's skin. Somehow the forest had become so much more than a training ground to you over that time. However, you realized then, that no matter how many times you had seen it before, it would never top being able to see it with your own eyes. The ones you had been born with.

It was a dream that had been painted on your soul from the moment you had come onto this planet and as you stared up at the luminescent green foliage while you rode on the back of the direhorse, you felt as if your life was complete. Like Eywa was watching over you, reaching out her arms and promising you that whatever happened you would be okay.

Staring up past the trees to the black-coated sky littered with stars and planets, you felt a new kind of peace wash over you. Your breath had evened out and you blinked slowly, entirely entranced by the skyline scattered with constellations. The constellations that resembled the ivory spots speckled across his nose and his body. That's all you could think about — the ivory-speckled sky and how it reminded you of the glow that would overtake him at night.

Please, Great Mother, protect Neteyam and his ivory-scattered face.

As soon as you got back, Neytiri distracted the kids, allowing Jake to get you to Mo’at without anyone seeing. Partly to prevent panic from appearing in the village, but mostly to stick to your one and only request. Don’t let Neteyam see me like this. Those six words served as a confirmation to Jake. A confirmation that once again only served the greater suspicion that there was more going on under the surface. Deeper feelings were involved here whether the two of you had admitted it, and Jake wasn't sure how he hadn't seen it before. But maybe he had.

The lingering gazes. The light touches. Neteyam sneaking out of the tent at night, for months. His attitude suddenly improving. He was always cautious around you when Jake was close by as if he was afraid of the Olo'eyktan connecting the dots from the softness he displayed to you or the look in his eyes, which was less than innocent. It all had been there but for months, Jake Sully had been turning a blind eye to it all. Despite his duty as Olo'eyktan to accept the arranged marriage that would be pushed onto his son along with all the other responsibilities, he let the interactions and the feelings play out in plain sight.

Now, he was going to willingly do what any Olo'eyktan would and protect the last wishes of a member of his clan. He was making a split decision based on the six words he never thought you would have openly admitted. That it was and always had been Neteyam for you. How it was the one son of his that had been promised a throne and a chosen future mate, the one son you couldn't have willingly. Somehow it filled him with a sense of deja vu, as if when he saw you he was looking at a mere reflection of the person he used to be. Alongside that, a repeated history. The outsider and the chief's chosen child. Somehow under all of his turning a blind eye, you and Neteyam had not only become Jake and Neytiri but were being torn apart for it.

For a while, Jake stood in the corner of the room, Neytiri appearing after a while closing off the tent from any onlookers. The majority who would have been her own children. She stood next to Jake, her hand comfortingly finding a place on his shoulder.

They had watched as Mo'at closed her eyes and let the feelings of Eywa guide her. She took in many deep breaths as mumbled words escaped her mouth in the form of tongues. Then just as quickly as it had begun, her eyes were reopening, leaving her meeting with Eywa as Jake liked to call it. She glanced at the couple before her and spouted what he could only hear as bullshit. She’s very weak.

“Well help her goddamn it!”

“Jake!” Neytiri hissed as the tone of his voice emitted not only a glare on her face but a chip in her tone.

From outside the tent, four dark statues lingered in the dark, near the side of the healing tent. Light poured out of the bottom bathing Kiri and Lo’ak’s faces in slivers of warm light. They lay on their fronts, chins leaning along their hands as they held their breaths, desperate to unravel what they were looking at. They could only see the outline of their grandmother, the Tsahik’s side from the confined view they had. With Spider and Tuk sitting on the other side of Lo'ak, the eight-year-old hugged her knees to her chest in a state of confusion. When her parents left, she had spent the whole time berating her older siblings with questions about you — were you okay? What had exactly happened? Were you coming back?

All questions with answers none of the older siblings had.

Neteyam crouched on the other side of Kiri, leaning his ear close to the side of the tent, trying to understand the mumblings from inside. His heart had shattered and he felt as if he had been cut open, exposing everything he was feeling to the gaping air. It made his stomach twist at the thought and he was starting to feel sick.

The sight of your avatar collapsing in his arms was still very present in his mind — as well as how his father had avoided him the second he returned forbidding anyone from seeing you, the other you. Your human body and the current body that held everything that made you, you. It was hard to imagine you any other way. For six straight months, he was memorizing every detail of your blue features just in case his golden irises would be deracinated from his face. Now all he could think about was what you really looked like, what you were born to look like.

Lo’ak leaned closer to his sister, voice breaking and coming out in low mumbles, “What did she say?”

“Shh,” she hushed back, bumping her brother in the side, harsher than she intended too.

“She’s weak, that’s what Mo’at is saying,” Neteyam spoke up softly, the words acting as needles as they ripped holes into his skin, “She doesn’t know if they can save her.”

Kiri glanced up at Neteyam and felt her shoulders drop disappointedly as his expression came to light for her. How pain-stricken he was and how utterly shattered his voice sounded as it echoed in her ears. She felt Eywa there at that moment, filling her entire body, as she witnessed firsthand how strongly her brother felt for you. It had blinded him out of nowhere and a pit formed in his stomach at how sudden it all was. Over time, that dread and that fear had drifted off into the wind as if they had rolled off his back while flying through the sky.

Then there was you. How you had become a slight wreck over your feelings for the future Olo'eyktan. She could still feel your own confession lingering in the back of her mind. How shy you had gotten, how ashamed you had been when she had found out you liked Neteyam, possibly loved him.

Somehow under all of the excruciating lectures, stubborn-filled disputes, and contemptuous glares, two souls had found one another, deep within the forest under the phosphorescent green of the trees.

She blinked and looked away, letting the prospect of the two of you fade away, leaving nothing but an imprint of dust in its wake. They all instead directed their attention back to the tent, ears twitching in unison and tails swishing anxiously as their father’s voice filled the air.

“She’s dying, don’t you see that? One of our own is dying,” Jake pleaded then, his anger melted away like icicles in the warm temperature and all that was left was a puddle of desperation and fear. “So, please help her. Do the consciousness transfer. Do it, if it means the possibility of saving her life."

As Mo’at glanced down from your shivering human form to the empty blue vessel beside you, she knew what he was asking of her. He was right and it would have to be in Eywa’s hands now. The very hands you had tried to get yourself in weeks ago when you appeared in the doorway of her tent pleading and begging for her to consider. To think about your request, ask Eywa to guide you and herself to an answer. Tsahik, without much consideration or even listening to Eywa's plan or will, denied your request. Even when Jake Sully, Toruk Makto, had once come to her with the same request, and even when she saw so much of him in you, including a strong heart, she denied the request.

When Mo’at looked at you, she saw a young woman. A young woman with all the reasons and desires in the world to ask for this request and to ask for the opportunity to change her life. Your soul's existence depended on the opportunity to live life fully as a Na’vi, and That’s why Tsahik couldn’t accept it. Your whole life.

A young and prestigious life she didn’t want to be cut short not when there was still so much time. She feared that Eywa’s will wouldn’t be what was hoped by the rest of the clan, her family, so she denied you. For fear of taking the light out of your eyes as well as the light out of her grandchildren.

“She’s weak so we must do it tonight. The more strength she has the better,” she finally spoke looking from Jake to her dutiful daughter, “Alert the village. We need everyone, do you understand? We need all the support we can for this. An hour and then we go.”

The couple, the clan's leaders, the two everyone looked to in a crisis felt the weight on their shoulders deepen. Anxiety formed, pushing down on their tracheas as it all began to feel too real too fast. But panic couldn't happen. Freaking out couldn't happen. There wasn't enough time for it and there sure as hell wasn't room for it.

Jake took Neytiri’s hand in his and walked towards the entrance of the tent, all strength, and will of his own feelings lost. As they stepped out, the tent's flap falling shut behind them, a rush of air fell from his mouth. Neytiri, able to feel his energy deep within her bones, wrapped her arms around his broad torso. Her chin found a place against his shoulder and they stared forward at the rest of the village, the forest, their home, and everything in between. They listened to one another’s hearts and stood there for a brief moment, letting their breaths linger into one before Neytiri unwrapped herself around him.

As she did, they both were startled by the sound of rustling as well as a soft groan of a very familiar prominent voice. They shared a look with one another, communicating the same conclusion as they stepped around the tent to where the sound had come from. It wasn't a surprise to find their four children squatted and laying around in the dirt, ears pressed close to the tent. Suddenly all their movements stopped as they felt the shadows looming over them, blocking the moonlight and concealing them in darkness.

All four heads then tilted cautiously and were met by the scariness of their mother, who stood with a hip popped out and arms crossed over her chest. Her stare only hardened further when she found her youngest, no more than eight years old, sitting there, a pained expression on the child's face. Neytiri looked over her shoulder at Jake but he merely shrugged as if he wasn't surprised at all by the sight in front of him. He held his arms to her; a silent signal that he was leaving the situation for her to handle.

Inhaling, her lips parted, ready to scold them not only for eavesdropping on a conversation not meant for their ears but for letting Tuk hear every word, something she could barely process at her age. Before Neytiri could get a word out, she found her youngest staring up at her, large eyes widened with fear and sadness, bottom lip quivering.

Tuk’s eyes filled with tears and slowly began to fall, drenching her innocent face, “Is Y/N going to be okay? What happened to her?”

The other three older siblings’ bodies stiffened unwillingly, ears dropping back while their own theories and assumptions were formed. But even with their thoughts and concerns, they all found themselves peering up to their mother, who seemed to be all-knowing and often had the right thing to say in moments like this. It was a mother's intuition and they all stared at her, asking for an answer that was far better than any of their own. They all held their breath as they watched the glare melt away completely from her face while she opened her arms welcomingly for her youngest child.

“Oh, my prrnen (baby),” Neytiri cooed as Tuk reached up to be pulled up into her mother's arms. As her small innocent face met her mother's neck, her tear bubbles collapsed, letting her salty tears fall freely upon Neytiri's skin. “Know this, that whatever happens, Y/N will be okay. She will be at peace one way or another. I don't know what's going to happen, but that is not something for us to worry about right now. Our Great Mother has a plan and whatever comes of it, everything will be okay. Do you understand me, maite (my daughter)?”

Hands rubbing softly at Tuk’s back, her gaze fell to the rest of her children and their anxious eyes. They looked to her as if a mother could solve the world’s most significant problems and she wished at that moment she could. She wished she could take all of your pain, all of your sickness, all of the limitations your body held away. She wanted more than anything with her children’s eyes boring up at her that she could promise you life to prevent their suffering.

“The ritual is in an hour,” Jake said then, gaining the three older children’s attention as he tried to wrap his head around how he wanted to handle this situation. He couldn’t bear the idea of them being at the consciousness transfer and watching with the possibility that it wouldn't work. He couldn’t watch every hope and every fiber of light in their bodies fade away at the sight of what could be a final send-off. “Whatever you need to do, I suggest you do it now because there is a chance you won't be able to later.”

“Can we see her?” Kiri asked then, sitting up to hug her knees to her chest, voice pleading, “Please? Can we just sit with her and talk to her. Dad, I can’t go the ritual without having said—”

“Fine,” he interrupted her, his heart constricting with grief at the sound of his daughter’s broken voice, “Fine, yes, you can see her. But none of you will be at the ritual. Do you read me? I don’t want you attending the transfer.”

In perfect sync all of their eyes widened in shock, ears pulling back in dejection as their father's command fell straight into their laps. Lo’ak sat up quickly, in complete disbelief, “But—”

“No, but anything. I don’t want any of you there, do you understand?”

That edge had returned in his voice and Jake took two seconds each to drill his gaze into his children, trying to make it stick within their minds, so that no matter how many times the thought appeared to go against his words, the remembrance of his stone cold glare would stop them. He couldn't be sure that it would work, especially as he caught the look on Lo'ak's face. It was the same look he gave whenever he was given orders or asked to do something against his own troublesome consciousness. It was passive, him nodding his head as if he was listening though he never took anything serious his father said. It was the same exact look Jake was getting then.

“Do — you — understand?”

He spoke slower and finally got the response he wanted. All three of his older children nodded their heads while Lo’ak verbally respond with, “Yes, sir.”

Neteyam could only stare up past Jake, huffing quietly. It was loud enough to catch his father’s attention anyway. Jake narrowed his gaze down at his oldest but the young warrior wouldn't falter. Instead, Neteyam matched him with the same expression.

No gunmetal would warp at that moment as Neteyam felt every inch of anger and frustration ball together. The order for them to stay away during the ceremony left him astonished and pissed off. His father still saw them as children and felt like he had this responsibility to protect them. But other than Tuk, none of them needed his protection. They had grown up and that was something he obviously couldn't accept.

Somehow it only filled Neteyam with more spite because there was nothing left that needed to be protected. Every innocence had been stolen and he couldn’t remember the last time he had been treated like a child, free of any responsibilities. For years he had been viewed and trained like a serviceman, kept on a shelf until he was needed. His whole life he had been ordered around; Go pick up an extra couple of hours of training. Watch over your brother. Learn how to use a gun. Take on extra challenges with other warriors. Heck, marry and mate with a woman of our choosing.

They had every part of him. They had taken every piece of him and he had willingly let them. For years he had been ordered around as if he was incapable of thinking for himself. In reality, they couldn't afford him to think and make decisions for themselves because it would go against what was best for the clan.

Some things never changed though. He stood just outside the healing tent, where the Tsahik was trying to save the only woman he has ever had feelings for, and he was expected to follow commands again. He was supposed to let them put him back on the shelf and wait for further instructions. Your life was hanging in the balance and they were asking him to be absent from the ritual that would decide what would happen. He couldn’t do that.

His hard-set gaze met Jake’s, refusing to back down. He watched then as the Toruk Makto dismissed him and instead sent one more look to each of his children. He nodded in the direction of the healing tent, “Go on.”

One by one, they all stood silently and began to approach the tent, with dread being the only thing evidently strewn across their faces. Neytiri slowly set Tuk down, wiping what was left of her tears, that motherly smile occupying her face as she watched the rest of her children approach the tent. As Neteyam stepped by them though, the thought of you the only thing guiding him forward, Jake’s eyes found Neytiri’s. She hadn’t seemed to understand what he was trying to say, but she turned to give him her full attention anyway at the obnoxious way he cleared his throat.

Her ears flickered curiously then as his stare frantically began to flicker back and from their oldest son to her. Lo’ak and Spider had stepped into the tent with Tuk waiting by the doorway, clearly contemplating if she wanted to go inside herself. Neytiri then found herself looking at Neteyam who was getting close to the entrance. She felt the thought kick in at what Jake was referring to or rather what you had asked of him. Him was the key term, but Neytiri felt her brows draw forward on her forehead in exasperation at his clear hesitation. The Toruk Makto had no problem lecturing his sons until their ears bled but being able to break the worst news and offer comfort to them might as well have been foreign, especially in their older years. He was terrified of it and Neytiri found it utterly ridiculous.

As Jake didn’t show any signs of calling out to Neteyam, she huffed out and shook her head at her husband, narrowing her gaze at him. The words very bad were communicated vexingly through her eye contact. She sighed then as she called out to Neteyam, “Maitan (my son)!”

Neteyam’s ears perked up at the sound of his mother’s voice and just as his hand grasped around the tent flap, so close to where you were, he pulled back to face her. She waved him over, and with frustration and confusion, he stepped away from the tent. Kiri, who was just about to enter, noticed the interaction of their mother pulling him aside and decided to wait, in favor of watching the conversation play out instead.

“What?” Neteyam questioned, the sharpness of his tongue not unnoticed.

Neytiri’s initial reaction was to smack him upside the head for it, but she held back knowing the sharpness was nothing but a reflection of how he was feeling. He wasn’t trying to be difficult or disrespectful. He just didn't have the energy or the care anymore to be any other way.

Neytir's gaze softened, the same one she had spared moments ago as she clutched her youngest in her arms. Neteyam noticed it right away, the look she was giving him. He would never admit it, but he knew his mother better than the rest of his siblings, and at the sight of her eyebrows drawing together softly, he felt his stomach drop. The lines between them displayed feelings of stress and disappointment. She wore it across her face — how badly she wished to offer him the moon and the stars.

As her hand reached for his shoulder, that’s when he figured it out for sure. Why she had stopped him from entering, her shared looks with Jake, the way she was trying to steer him from the tent. It all made sense and a low growl took everyone by surprise as he peered over his shoulder at Kiri and the opening of the tent.

When he looked back at his mother, he felt his fists clench at his sides, “She doesn't want to see me. That's what you are going to tell me, aren't you? You pulled me aside because she told you she doesn't want to see me. ”

“Yes,” Neytiri admitted slowly.

A pin dropped and within a beat of time, as if only a second had passed, Neteyam resurfaced but angrier and more annoyed than before. He stepped back out of her grasp, and her hand was left dangling in the air as his tail whipped back and forth aggressively.

“No. Fuck that!"

“Neteyam!” she hissed, taking a hold of his arm and yanking him back despite his best efforts to escape her. He didn’t dare overpower his mother though or do anything that would disrespect her. Instead, he let her hold his arm too tightly, while her glare drilled holes into the side of his head.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish more than anything that it didn’t, but who would we be if we denied her wishes.”

Her wishes.

She spoke as if you were already dead and he felt himself tense under her words, his entire body becoming rigid. He closed his eyes for a moment as if trying to breathe through the pang in his chest. To calm himself down, he held his breath deep within his lungs for almost a minute before he released it. When he did, he felt the heartbreak creep up within his body until it was past his throat and on the tip of his tongue. Then he broke right in front of her.

“Her wishes? Do you even hear yourself right now, sa’nok (mother)? You're acting as if she has already died and is with Eywa. How can you just... No, damn her wishes because if there is a chance that I could lose her I am not going to stand out here and let her... I can’t just stand here and let her go into that ritual without telling her how I feel.”

“It was not my choice, ma‘eveng (my child),” she whispered cooly, as Neteyam was starting to appear frantic.

The choice isn’t mine to bear.

He clenched his eyes shut again, suddenly stained with the memory of you standing within the mauve tendrils, beautiful face barring every raw emotion of your soul to him. Tears suspended in your eyes for a second as he felt every possible pain rip open in his chest, a pain so horrible it let his flaws and deceptions take over. He had hurt you right back and he knew just as everyone once would that he was no warrior. No perfect son. No perfect soldier. No man worth bearing the sins of the world. Your words crept back into his mind.

Then I will bear it.

Neteyam, the way I feel about you is consuming.

“This is fucking bullshit!”

Just as Neytiri was going to comfort her son, try and offer any encouraging words she could, she felt his arm be pulled from her grasp. He was stepping away from her and her motherly gaze that was slowly suffocating him. He stared hard at his father as he passed him, sarcastically thanking him for all of his help in this whole thing, before stalking away in the opposite direction of the healing tent, his family, and you.

They all watched him go and Kiri found herself stepping away from the tent in favor of going after her older brother. She nodded at her parents reassuringly, “I got it.”

She took off in his direction, picking up her pace to catch up with him. As Jake and Neytiri watched them go, she huffed over at Jake, crossing her arms over her chest intently. That worried line in between her brows had formed again as her mind began to ramble with questions if what she was doing for her children and her people were right. Neteyam was the one she thought about long and hard, wondering if what they were doing was right. She felt like she had failed him or rather they all had failed him. As no one had ever made it easy on him from the moment he was born. There was not one sole point in time where they considered things from his point of view, his life, his future, or how once he had been full of childhood dreams. Instead, they just deemed them as improbable outcomes.

It was as if Jake could read her mind, all starting from that stressful line on her forehead between her brows. “He can’t be there. He will never forgive himself if he watches her….”

“And he’ll never forgive us if she somehow dies and we never let him say goodbye.”

Kiri chased after her brother, letting her parents' voices fade behind her. Her eyes narrowed at him as he walked in front of her or rather stomped in front of her. His braids swung from side to side, his back muscles tense and rigid. She could see every twitch of annoyance and frustration in his form, displayed on his back like any true man would — never demonstrating it out loud or through words but rather through body language.

Picking up her steps, she called out to him but he ignored her as he made it through the village. He was making a move for the forest, but Kiri knew that if he did disappear into the lush greenery, who knew when he would be back. There wasn't time for it.

“Neteyam, stop!” she finally yelled, firmly grabbing onto his elbow and yanking him back.

He hissed at the way her nails dug into the skin of his forearm and let his feet come to a stop. Staring forward at the forest, his means of escape, a loud sigh fell from his lips. Unable to push the pain off his face, he refused to look at her, and instead tilted his head to the side, his broken gaze falling to the ground.

“What? What do you want?”

“You can’t just storm off like this,” Kiri admitted, slightly out of breath from chasing after him, “Not right now and not like this. We need to stick together when something like this happens, so you can't just leave. Because believe it or not, everyone looks to you as much as they look to Dad during a crisis. Your presence is important, now more than ever. That, and I don't think you should be alone.”

Scoffing he shook his head, denying her admission. More so, he wouldn’t stand there and let her give him that same pitying stare his mother couldn’t wipe from her face. “The fact that you would use my future title against me right now, are you serious? Tell, me Kiri other than that the people need me why I should stay. Y/N doesn’t want to see me, so what’s the point?”

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Kiri’s hand fell from around him, suddenly feeling angered by his words and his tone as if he was brushing you off like it was the only thing he could do when around other people, “I mean what the hell is wrong with you? You can’t even admit that you have feelings for her, can you? Seriously? Nothing, at all? Neteyam, she could die, she could not survive this transfer and you still can’t fucking say it out loud.”

His shoulders dropped, her voice cutting through him like a knife cuts through flesh, with resistance but then giving away. The more things she said, the easier it was to get through to him past the bullshit and the fear. Exhaling, he finally turned around to face her, his little sister, and felt his words get caught at the sight of how sad she appeared. Her eyes displayed every form of grief and anger, and it was all pointed straight at him.

“I can't,” he responded, his confession wearing her tight expression away, “If I say it, it will become real. Everything these past six months will be right there in front of me. Every night spent together, every argument about her training, every reaction, and feeling she brought out of me. Except if I admit my feelings for her, it would also mean that I have to admit that I am losing her. I will be admitting that she is sick and dying, and I can’t accept that Kiri. I can’t..”

Kiri stared up at her brother, eyes wide and wallowing in unshed tears as every friction and pause in his voice spoke to everything he was saying. He was barring a part of himself to her at that moment which he had never done before. He was looking past the perfection that was expected of him and let his insecurities ring out in the air and while it was killing him to his very core, a part of him felt relief.

“Kiri, she’s not mine. She never was and I didn't have the thought to even ask. We could never be together so why even say anything to her, but I guess now, it doesn't even fucking matter, does it? All that duty and expectations bullshit means nothing because she is slipping away right in front of us. And now that I realize that, she doesn't even want to fucking see me."

She sighed, one that was brought out from deep within, as she took a hold of his arm again. This time gently almost like if she pressed any harder, he would break. Or he would get scared, sink back into his shell, and close himself off from the rest of the world.

“Neteyam—”

“What is that?” he shouted, pupils dilated and crazed as his eyes became drenched in tears, he wished would never fall.

“Neteyam, please,” Kiri cried then, gripping his arm harder to get his gold eyes to lock with hers, to get him to calm down as his breathing was erratic pulling and prodding at his chest as if he were trying to self-destruct right before her eyes. “You need to try and understand what she is asking of you.”

“I won't do this. I have to see her.”

She shushed him then, his cries falling silent upon his tongue, “Brother, you have never seen her like this, do you understand that? For six months, you have only seen Y/N in her avatar body and as one of us. You have never seen her in this true form, in her human body.”

“I don’t care about that, Kiri, you know that,” he replied, brows drawing down on his face as he tucked his bottom lip in between his front teeth.

“Okay, but she’s also sick, very sick, and I can’t imagine that the last time she'd want you to see her would be like this. Not as this weak, shell of a person she doesn’t even recognize as herself anymore,” Kiri explained carefully, her tears starting to fall without her even realizing as she gripped harder onto Neteyam, “It sounds like she knows what could happen, what’s at risk here. It’s not that she doesn’t want to see you. It’s that, she would rather have the last time you saw her be from earlier. She’d be okay with the fact it was in the forest, in your arms, and in her avatar body because it would mean you would remember her that way, at that moment.”

Her words had struck him in the chest harder than any blow he had ever gotten in his entire life. It was worse than when he had collided with one of the floating mountains on his first Ikran ride, or the time when he had gotten the shit beat out of him early on his training days. It was even worse than when Lo’ak had beat the shit out of him hours ago. In fact, it felt as if it was worse than all of those things combined.

She’d be okay with the fact that it was in the forest, in your arms, and in her avatar body.

Neteyam bit down on his lower lip, reopening the wound that Lo’ak had put there earlier as every single word of that one sentence made him recoil. If the last time he saw you, talked to you, was in front of that tree screaming at you as you finally told him how you felt. The way I feel about you is consuming. No, it couldn't be. That would be complete and utter bullshit. He sure as hell wouldn’t stand by and let the last time you saw him be there, under that tree not only rejecting your heart but his own feelings.

Neteyam had been selfless his whole life until it had come to you and he wasn’t about to return to the person he was before you, refusing to listen to his own feelings and what he wanted. At that moment he was choosing to be selfish, to choose himself and to choose you over some last dying wish. He knew it was wrong, so wrong, but it didn’t stop him from stalking the healing tent for the next half hour, watching as each person came and went. His bottom lip at that point was rebleeding and torn to shreds but he needed something, some sort of distraction from the fears that were starting to take over his body.

There were fifteen minutes until you were going to be transported to the site and another fifteen before the ritual would start. Neteyam watched from afar he as Mo’at walked out of the tent, her hands full and her gaze seemingly distracted. She disappeared far into the village and Neteyam snuck out from around the side of the tent he had been standing for nearly a half hour. Having the darkness to disappear into, he slipped into the tent unnoticed. With no one following him, he close the front lapels of the tent and turned slowly on his heels.

He felt his entire body freeze, hands clenching at his sides while his breathing suddenly sped up. Dim lanterns encased the room, emitting a soft glow and he felt all sanity escape him at the sight of the avatar body that had been in his grasp only two hours before. The only you he had ever known. It looked so cold without your animated expressions, that familiar pinched line in between your eyebrows, or the tiny divots of your dimples that appeared when you smiled. It was you and had been the you he had given himself to completely but at that moment it wasn’t you at all. Its eyes were closed and already having been prepared for the ritual, the body was wrapped up in blankets to be transferred.

His eyes then took in the much smaller form laid a few feet away from it, all bundled up, chest rising and falling with each deep breath that was inhaled. He cautiously walked forward and as the soft glow brushed along his face, he felt as if his body was at a standstill, all air pulled from his lungs.

Completely unmoving, he finally saw you for the first time — the real you and his entire world was shifted on its axis. You were all soft lashes, smooth skin, and glistening full lips. With your eyes fluttered shut, he wondered what color your they were, the opening of your soul. He wanted you to open them. He wanted to see if they matched the ones he had been staring into for six months. Other than that, the slope of your nose was smaller and your eyebrows were different, more prominent, and the markings on your skin were completely dissimilar to the ivory specks he was so used to admiring.

Somehow though, even with an entirely different person in front of him, you were entirely familiar — all of his favorite parts of you were the same, and just as you had looked earlier that night underneath the mauve tree, there in that tent and in that body, you were ethereal. And you were his even not officially, you were. Ma’ Y/N.

Tears once again resurfaced after the countless times he had reeled them back in that day. Slowly, he sunk down onto his knees beside you and listened to the way you breathed, trying to memorize the sound of it for as long as he could. Glancing down to your side, he found his eyes flickering with interest at the sight of your hand, limp across the blanket. Five fingers, smaller than his own, just as your other always had been. Staring down at it, he couldn’t help himself and before he realized it, he was reaching for it. Engulfing your smaller one in his, he watched as it slipped into his with ease as if it was meant to be there. He felt a type of warmth fill his chest then as your hand twitched in his.

Tilting his head, he looked back up to your face and found himself taken aback at the sight of two small doe-eyes peering up at him. They were so elegant and nothing like he had expected but somehow he would commit them to his memory then and there. They scanned over his face like it was the first time you’d ever seen him and he felt his heart rate speed up when they had narrowed slightly. Your brows knitted together to bring back that pinched look he had just been reminiscing about seconds before.

The sight of you staring at him felt almost scrutinizing and based on that furrow in your brow and the slight frown that occupied your glistening and completely temptatious lips, this was without a doubt you. He knew then that it didn’t matter which body you were in, which form whether human or avatar, it would always feel like this. With you, he would always feel this.

“Hm, so this is you. Well it's nice to finally meet you, Y/N Y/L/N, all of you," he said suddenly, voice low and so soft it comforted you in more ways than one.

A few moments ago when you had felt a sudden pressure on your hand and the warmth of calloused skin, you couldn’t help but stir from the sleep that had suddenly overtaken you. You didn’t know who to expect when you opened your eyes, but it definitely wasn’t Neteyam. You never thought it could be but as you looked up and adjusted to the light, sure enough, it was.

He was there, staring down at you just as clearly as he had been in the forest among the mauve tendrils of the Tree of Souls. At first, you couldn’t deny how the feeling of his hand wrapped around yours resembled a hug and all the consolation in the world you needed. However, despite the affectionate look about him you couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing there. How he could have been there when you deliberately had said he wasn't allowed to be. You didn’t want him to see you like this and definitely didn't ask for him to come and see all your insecurities looming over you just before the consciousness transfer.

That was when the annoyance set in, evidently by the furrowing together of your eyebrows and the downward curve of your lips. You stared up at him, not knowing if you even had it in you to speak to him. He chuckled out, hand squeezing yours, feeling as if you had captivated him completely at that moment.

“Look, I can tell by the way you're staring at me right now, that you're angry I'm here."

Your lips parted as if you were going to reply, and you watched as Neteyam leaned closer as if he needed to hear your voice. The reassurance that it was still you in front of him, the same person. But as you inhaled, he could feel the way you were struggling to even do that, breath.

"Nete— "

His hand squeezed yours again, reassuringly, his unshed tears were so clear to you then, like uncut glass in the soft lighting from the lanterns. “No, don't. Don't say anything. You have already said everything you needed to. You had your chance, now it's my turn. It’s my turn to talk.”

With his eyes earnestly staring down into yours, you exhaled the breath you were holding and let your chest relax, parted lips closing with ease. You nodded then, letting the pinched look leave your face as if you were alleviating his anxiety with it. It was his turn then to breathe, his words jumbled across his tongue, adding weight to his mouth as he couldn’t dare look away from you. Finally, as you offered him an encouraging smile, he felt all of that weight be lifted off.

“Look, I know you didn’t want me here not like this and especially not now, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t leave things the way they were. I wouldn’t do that to us, Y/N, because you deserve more than that,” he said, stumbling slightly while completely worried that everything was coming out wrong. But based on how it felt so right in his chest and the tears gathering in your eyes, he knew it was more than enough. "I don't know what's going to happen but I do know that you deserve more finality than that because you're everything. How you make me feel is everything and I just needed you to know that.”

His eyes were soft, looking at you as if it really were true, that you were everything. That you were the entire world, his entire world. Fully in that tiny spindle of time, it was like he was finally unveiling his entire self to you — every piece, sliver, and makeup of who he was was reflected in his eyes. No more walls, no more guarding or holding it all inside. There at that moment, it was the real Neteyam Te Suli Tsyeyk’itan staring back at you.

Curling your lips into a small smile, not enough to show your teeth, you could taste the tears that were slipping down from the inner corners of your eyes, finding a place within your smile line. With batted breath, you watched his eyes trace them to only find yours again. Relief filled him at that moment at the sight of them streaming down your face because they weren’t a sign of heartache, grief, or mortification of the situation. Most importantly they weren’t a reflection of fear or doubt about what was to come — it was as if you were completely content in your point in life right there with his hand wrapped around yours. No, what was inevitably laced within those pretty tears of yours was a complete abundance of love.

Neteyam felt as if that look had reached past his chest, taken the pieces of his heart graciously and purposefully, took them, and then, with the warmest touch, put them back together again. It was like Eywa’s plan for him wasn’t to become his father’s soldier or to save the Omatikaya from the invading enemies. His will, his purpose was to be here with you, like this.

Leaning forward, you felt his palm connect with the side of your face, cupping your cheek like he had wanted to do so many times before. His thumb brushed along the glass of the oxygen mask and you couldn’t help but close your eyes and release more tears. Reaching up, your small hand circled around his wrist and held it there, able to feel his pulse under your fingertips. His eyes flickered to the touch before they found yours again and he suddenly couldn’t help himself any longer, not when he was finally able to see everything so clearly.

He cleared his throat, voice overcome by emotions as a single tear of his own slipped from the corner of his eye and down into his upper lip. It was the first tear he can even remember touching his cheek in years — a tear that had and always been promised for you.

“I see you.”

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise while the breath you had taken in felt like it had gotten lodged in your throat. More tears escaped from yours but your smile didn’t falter, not for one second, and you knew if that was the last thing you ever heard, you’d be happy. If it happened right there in his arms you could be okay with that because his words had somehow sanctified your soul. Sounding different, sounding so much more than when he had said it earlier that morning willed every bad thing away. In fact, it was everything, he was everything.

You squeezed his wrist in your hand as you stared up at him, eyes gleaming like it was the first and last time they ever would, “I see you.”

It was iridescent, the only way to utterly describe the sight. Mauve tendrils of neon light bathing skin in light as the forest's phosphorescent green pulsed beneath the people's bodies and feet. Pulsing to the heartbeat of their Great Mother. Pulsing in sync with their swaying bodies and stifled groans. It all reached deeply within their bones; her and her power. They cried to her, prayers and pleas kissing their tongues as the bioluminescence of the ground was prominent where their queues were connected.

Before Mo’at within the tendrils and the night sky, the atokirina was coated in white and floated in the air above in swarms. Thereupon the pulsing ground of the tree with bulging roots, two bodies lay wrapped within the confines of Eywa. The neon green phosphorescence rectifying as the Mother accepted the two bodies on her beloved soil. Evidently how the small fingerlike tresses of the ground lifted and wrapped around each body, grounding them completely. The same tresses that connected each person there to the entity of Eywa.

“The Great Mother may choose to save all that she is in this body,” Mo’at spoke, watching the tresses grow across the avatar’s body eventually pulling the queue further into the ground creating a direct neural link to the back of your human neck.

Eyes fluttered to a close, and you were finally relaxed, instead listening to the sound of your slowing heart. Norm stood in his avatar form near your human body with Neytiri as Jake sat on the other side next to the form they all hoped you would wake up in. His fingers brushed the strays hair out of its face and glanced over at your human body, taking note of the gentle rise and fall of your chest. He shared a look with Neytiri, a shared look of worry as both of Mo’at’s earlier words hung in their heads. She is very weak. It only brought flashbacks of Grace and filled him with the worst dread. That feeling was only exemplified when the ritual began.

Everyone bathed in the green light, connected arms, all being interlinked as one with Eywa were able to feel her as well as each other. They slowly listened to Mo’at’s words chanting out in the air and repeated them in synchronism back at her, eyes closed focusing on the feeling channeling within one another.

“Ting mikyun ayoheru rutxe, ma Nawma Sa’nok (Hear us please, Great Mother).”

Mo’at raised her arms high into the air, “Srung si poeru, ma Ewya (Eywa, help her).”

“Pori tireati, munge mì nga (Take this spirit into you),” the crowd chanted back rolling their necks and their shoulders as one back and forth.

No matter how many times Norm and Jake had witnessed the ritual, it still left them too stunned to speak; the overwhelming sensation of the voices in unison, the connection of the neurons through the ground, and the overriding presence of Eywa. It all was so much to process even more so while trying to pray to Eywa herself. To ask for forgiveness, for mercy, for her to return you even when you were weak and sick. Ask and beg that she give this one thing to all of those that loved you.

The phosphorescent green reflected back in his eyes as he glanced down from you to your human body now completely covered by tresses leaving barely any sliver of real skin showing. Mystified he watched as the atokirinas floated down from the sky and with the lightest touch surrounded your avatar body — the purest souls watching over you and serving as a positive sign of what he wished to believe.

Finally after what felt like hours of chanting and praying, and looking into the sky for Eywa, Jake felt his attention shoot up to Mo’at. He watched as she spun in circles, arms flailing in the air, eyes rolled to the back of her head, repeating the Great Mother’s name in constant tongues. She could feel her and she could hear her. He was focused then as Mo’at’s voice grew silent out of nowhere like a switch had been flipped. Her eyes returned to normal, her arms dropped to her sides, and her voice fell quiet.

Glancing down at the two bodies before her, she raised her hand to the rest of the people, her voice loud and commanding, “Lu hasey! (It is finished).”

The crowd became silent and all as one found themselves holding their breaths as Mo’at bent down examining your human body closely, her hands raised over your face. Jake held his too as Neytiri stepped forward, hands dropping to the mask around your face. With the uttermost delicacy, she reached forward and pulled it up and off, the sound from releasing the compaction was a gust of air. She laid it down on the ground next to your body as her eyes swept across your beautiful young face, relaxed, gone of any pain.

Her large hand cupped your face; like a mother, she leaned down and connected her soft lips to your forehead, right above your eyebrow. A maternal comfort you had never known or experienced, something Jake had mentioned often to her over the last half year. She let her lips linger a little longer, channeling all of her affection and devotion for you, offering it to Eywa.

Leaning back her eyes opened again and her hand left your face with one final touch. She looked up to meet her husband's eyes and Jake felt the anxiety worsen in his stomach as she offered him an ensuring nod. He took a deep breath and looked down at the young avatar before him. He leaned over it, tracing every point of its face with his eyes, her ivory-kissed skin, and long eyelashes.

It was the same face of the young woman Jake had had the pleasure of knowing over the last six months. It was the young woman, he felt had become a part of his family. The face of the woman who had captured the attention of his children and left them astounded after seven years of knowing you. He looked down and saw the face of the woman who had managed to get his eldest son to fall in love. It was the face of you, the young girl who had been entirely and always enraptured by this planet and this world — a woman who was always meant to become a part of the Na’vi.

His fingertips ghosted over your cheeks, the lightest of touches as the atokirinas could be seen all around you. Waiting and waiting, he felt his breath and hope leave him all at once as seconds passed and then a minute. He felt the time frame leaving, falling to a close, and his heart sunk into his stomach. Glancing up at Mo’at expectantly, disappointed, she urged him back down to you with a simple nod, asking him to wait a second longer.

Live or die?

One of us? Or one of them?

Letting his head tilt back down to you, Jake held his breath, his pointer finger brushing against the skin right below your eyebrow, delicately. His gaze zoned in on yours so seriously, he felt his throat well up waiting, begging Eywa. Just as his pinky pressed along your skin, the pair of eyes popped open, coating his sight in yellow and gold, flickered with specks of the lightest green he had ever seen.

one of us taglist is not working the best right now and I have over the limit of people asking to be tagged (it says it's fifty) so, for now, I am just not going to have a taglist because I can't tag everyone and it's taking a lot of work to figure out.

#avatar #avatarimagine #avatar way of water #neteyam x reader #writing #fanfiction #neteyam imagine #avatar imagine #avatar fanfiction #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak fanfiction #neteyam fanfiction

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petrapalerno · 3 months

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Submitting to the Alien Barbarian #4

Alien x fem reader, a dom/sub erotic short.

TW/CW: rough consensual sex, primal play, knotting, breeding, aliens, dominance/submission, blood play, spanking, breath play, and violence.

MASTER POST

You reach for him, but find nothing but a fistful of purple fur. Maybe he’s finally gone back to the orgy and found something else to rut.

You blink, trying to clear your crusted eyes of sleep. Could you even find your way back to the spawning pits on your own? You weren’t really paying attention to what direction he walked when you were slung over his shoulder.

He couldn’t have walked that far, could he?

With a deep breath, you push your body up to sit; every muscle feels overworked and stiff as you move. Bringing your hands down to your pussy, you wince.

Being overworked is an understatement. You’re ninety-nine percent sure that you’ve torn something.

Sure, you like it rough, but everyone’s got a limit. You could stay here one more night and soldier back to the pits for more fun before you’re taken to the Volkroth nesting grounds.

The actual giving birth part of the breeding program isn’t really the thing that excites you, but it’s kind of package deal. Luckily, you’ve been assured that the gestation time is short and birth is much easier than for normal humans. The Volkroth deliver very undeveloped young and are brought to term outside the body at the nesting grounds.

When it was being described to you, they made it seem like they reproduced similarly to pandas or kangaroos— but no pouch was required. The tiny baby bean goes into some kind of pod, and you can go about getting fucked roughly for the rest of the spawning season. They raise the young communally too, so there’s no expectation of parenting for you either.

Looking at the sheer size of the Volkroth, the whole idea of a tiny bean of a baby seems ludicrous. But then again, you’re no expert on alien reproduction.

You’re just here to be ripped apart, and you’ve still got three months left until the spawning season ends. One rest day won’t put that big a damper on your orgy fun, will it?

The fire you slept next to is low, and you nudge a puck of the fuel you saw Drohako stoke it with last night into the flames. They instantaneously spark and the fire greedily engulfs the puck of dried vegetation and mud.

You’re just about to lie back down when you hear grunting and the hide that covers the cave’s entrance flies open.

The sun blasts into the cave, and your eyes struggle to adjust to the alien sun’s intensity. Slowly, two forms begin to block out the light.

Drohako stands, one arm up, holding the lead to some huge alien animal. As he guides it through the opening, it limps on one of its four legs.

“Stupid Grasyi, I hope the run was worth it.” He barks at the beast that looks like a cross between a Bengal tiger and a moose. As he ties the animal up, you see its legs are far too tall to belong to a big cat, but its blocky head is feline. A set of large and branching black antlers curl around his head. Its striped yellow fur is thick and fluffy, but you can tell it masks how vicious the beast is. The animal’s almond eyes flick over to you as it licks its lips lazily, revealing a viciously sharp set of teeth, it's incisors lengthening out like a snakes fangs.

“Drohako?”

“Who else would it be?” He turns to me, annoyed and scowling.

“I don’t know. I figured you headed back to the spawning pits. Don’t get pissy with me.” I stand slowly and with a great deal of shaking effort.

“And now you’re hurt, too? You, little human, might have eyes bigger than your cunt.” He gestures down to his crotch. His massive cocks are covered with some kind of loincloth. It does little to hide his thunder, so to speak.

You scoff, but he’s probably not wrong. Taking a step forward, your knees unexpectedly give out. Closing your eyes, you expect to fall face first into the fire.

You feel the heat on your cheeks, but not the licking sting of the flames. Bringing your hand up to your chest, you feel Drohako’s brawny forearm. It grips your chest tightly, holding you just above the fire.

“You move pretty fast for a big guy,” you chirp, still woozy.

“You are injured,” he tells you earnestly.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you mutter under your breath, and he pulls you into his arms.

“You will tell me next time you’re injured. You won’t be stupid like this again,” He scolds as we walk further into the cave.

My stomach grumbles and clenches uncomfortably. “Maybe I’m just hungry.”

Drohako groans, “You are both, and you’ve informed me of neither.”

“Sorry, I thought you hit it and quit it,” I laugh. “I’m sure I would have figured it out once I made it back to the spawning pits—“

Drohako wraps his hand around your hair and tugs your head back hard.

“You are not going back to the spawning pits. In fact, you will not leave the home cave,” he seethes.

“What? Were you serious last night? Isn’t that the point of me being here?” He steps over some kind of ledge, and you realize he’s lowering you both into the hot spring you saw last night.

Drohako tucks his legs under him, sitting over his crossed ankles, and cradles you as he slowly brings your body under the water’s surface. Now that you’re actually in it, you don’t think it’s water. It’s not sticky, but it is thick like syrup. It clings to your body and displaces in ways that water wouldn’t. As you lay across his lap, he looks at you with a sour scowl and tugs your hair back into the pool, “Hold your breath.”

You don’t do it fast enough, and some water gets into your nose and lungs. You choke when he lets you up, gasping for air and forcing the warm water out of your chest.

“What the fuck? You’re mad that I’m injured, so you try to drown me?” You sputter at him.

“The frustrating fact that you have no self-preservation skills, and also can’t follow instructions, isn’t my fault…now is it? Quit complaining before I gag you again. The planet’s blood is healing.” He acts like he would rather do anything other than caring for you…but does it all the same.

“Planet’s blood? Healing?” You ask, but realize that he’s right. Your muscles are relaxing, and even your crotch isn’t as sore.

“How injured is your cunt?” He asks as if you’re talking about the weather.

“It’s sore,” you say, trying to mitigate how painful it actually is.

With a sigh and an eye roll, he spins you so that your head rests just below his pecs. You feel pint-sized when he’s manhandling you.

You don’t resist when he pulls your knees apart wide enough so that your feet fall on the outside of his own legs. You watch him with curiosity as he slides a big purple hand between your legs. He rubs broadly over your mound and lips, working the healing water over your pussy.

You ease into him as some of the stinging is instantly soothed.

Your mouth parts as his hand dips lower, and two of his thick fingers run up and down the lips of my pussy before pressing into you entrance. You flinch slightly as he touches your torn skin.

“I should fuck you even rawer for not telling me you were hurt,” he says through gritted teeth.

You wonder if maybe he actually did scrambled something in your brain when slammed it into the ground. A cord tightens inside you as your arousal grows. It would fucking hurt, but in a way, you feel you would like.

You buck your hips a little, maybe giving him the gentle nudge he needs to fucking wreck you again.

His other hand wraps around your neck, squeezing the sides hard. You bite your lip, unable to help the warmth spreading over your body.

“You are an insolent thing who will only get fucked once she listens. You’re going to have to earn these cocks.”

You expect him to move his hands a little faster, perhaps slipping at least one of his cocks up into you.

But he doesn’t. He rubs your torn pussy slowly, and you can almost feel it mending itself, thanks to the weird alien liquid. The new skin that grows is more sensitive than what was there before, and it doesn’t help you lessen your arousal.

“Do you want this seed filling your belly, growing my spawn?” He breathes into your ear, and all the while, his hands move torturously slowly on your no longer painful pussy.

“Yes,” you sigh as he squeezes your neck all the harder.

“Do you want your tight little human cunt to milk these cocks?” He rasps, letting his fingers find your clit. Because the liquid your in, the planet’s blood, is thick and viscous, it lets him glide over the sensitive spot at your pussy’s apex with ease.

Your legs shake as he runs circles around the bundle of nerves, your muscles clasping, begging to be filled up with his thick cocks. You want to feel the delicious swell of his knotting dicks again.

“Please Drohako,” you moan, arching up.

“Do you want to come, little human?” He bites your ear lobe hard.

“Fuck yes,” you say, so close to the edge of no return.

“Then you will fucking listen to me from now on,” his tone changes from sensual to angry in the span of a heartbeat.

You’re surprised when he stops petting your pussy and pushes your knees shut. You're still throbbing with need when he pushes you forward into the pool so he can leave it.

“Did you really just do that?” You pant as you watch him walk back toward the front of the cave, pushing your own hand between your thighs. If you don’t find your release, you feel like you’ll explode and your fingers work furiously, trying to expedite your own ecstasy.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch yourself,” his voice booms as he snarls at you. You jump almost as much as the strange creature tied up by the cave’s entrance. “You will come only when I allow it, and right now, you don’t deserve it.”

Oh. This is a thing, a thing you like. Do you get off on withholding?

“You will let your body heal, you will eat the food I’m about to bring you, and you will stop talking about returning to the spawning pits. You took my knot, you are my mate.” He balls his fists up. “I will teach you some gods’ damn discipline if it’s the last fucking thing I do,” His purple face is flushed near blue as he points an accusatory finger at you.

“Your mate?” You ask, bewildered.

#monster fucker #monster fuqqer #monster smut #monsterfuqqer #monster romance #monster lover #smut #terato #aliens #i love aliens #alien romance #alien x reader #alien x human #alien #Petra palerno #STTABshort

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dcxdpdabbles · 11 months

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DC x DP fic idea: Lex Luther's youngest

Lex Luther will admit that his attempt to clone Superman had failed because he gave Superbo far too much free will. He may have lost the lab and a few scientists, but he still had the receipt in his head.

Yes, Superboy's creation was considered a miracle, but there is no such thing in science. He was sure he could recreate the experiment.

He just needed to ensure this one would have less world knowledge. Keep the weapon a weapon by providing it never thought of itself as anything else.

So he got to work. He blended his DNA with the small remaining samples he had of Superman. It was frustrating to see ninety-nine failed attempts to get the cloning right. Lex was on the last of his piece when he almost gave up, choosing to hype up everything in a last desperate attempt.

He placed it in the tube, left it to process overnight, and when he returned, there was a full teenager in the pod- now glowing green for some reason? Lex pauses, surprised beside himself, before fierce pride overcomes him.

He did it. He's completed his second clone all on his own.

Lex had only a few seconds to celebrate before the experiment jerked awake, and the bluest set of eyes he's ever seen stared back at him. It should be aware later in this stage. Then again, it shouldn't be this grown, either.

The clone screams.

Its voice slams against the glass that should have held against any full Kryptonian and shatters it. Lex throws himself behind one of the counters, feeling the waves of power wash over him.

It shakes the whole underground lab, threatening to bring down the roof over their heads, and Lex can do nothing but cover his ears and press himself against the ground.

The clone is wailing like a haunting banshee. He wasn't even aware Kryoptonian could do this.

The noise dies down. Lex glances over the counter only to find the clone on its hands and knees, gasping for breath. He reaches for the lead box in his pocket, mindful of the clone's every movement.

He'll put it back to sleep with some kryptonite, then place it back in its pod to have its mind molded into the perfect weapon. The experiment springs to his feet as his fingers close around the box. Lex pulls it out and flips open the lid as the clone's eyes lock with his.

Its eyes are green and glowing. Fascinating.

He watches as it starts to waver, tilting dangerously to the side, and smirks, knowing the rock is working. Calmly he walks over; the clone raises its hands in two tight fists, a frown on its face. "None of that now."

He presses the kryptonite against its chin to teach it a lesson. Pian will be the best teacher, and it will learn to obey every command of Lex or face severe consequences. The clone looks down, gaps, and then bites the kryptonite. Cleanly enjoying the flavor as it chews and hums, eyes closing in blessed like Lex had just fed him the highest quality chocolates.

Lex's soft "What the fuck" was very warranted.

"Thanks for the food, Mister." The clone chirps after going for another bite. It smacks its lips, then in a bizarre turn of events, it holds out its hand for a shake. "I'm Danny, by the way. What's your name?"

Lex kept staring at it before slowly taking the offered hand and pumping it up and down. He's not sure if this is real anymore. Maybe he was still asleep?

"This is the part where you tell me your name." The clone says after a while of handshaking. It shifts on its feet clearly with far too much personality, but not one Lex created. Not even one that was influenced. It was literally made last night.

"You know what. This sort of feels like a FruitLoop-level situation, so I will go. Have fun with whatever this is." The clone says, gesturing to the area around them while stepping backward. Lex opens his mouth to tell it there is no escape when it goes through the wall.

Density shifting!? But that was a power of Martian Manhunter, and Lex knows he had not even gotten close to that DNA yet.

He quickly grabs his tablet, clicking on the security cameras of his home, watching the clone fly through all his walls- flying as simple as walking, but not like Superboy, who picked himself up with telekinesis, or Superman, who pushed against gravity but flying as if though he was swimming with the airflow.

The young clone found the last wall and flew out of his home, far above his property, disappearing into the sunset with a black and green blur in his wake.

Lex leans back, putting down the tablet now that he cannot watch the clone and its obvious awareness of its surroundings. How had it learned all of that?

The mystery didn't get in the way of the most important fact: His youngest seemed to be very talented.

Maybe he would treat it like a person if only to keep him here to study. He had to get to Danny- before the rest of the Justice League could and bring the boy into his fold as the perfect heir that Kon refused to be.

How hard could it be to get Danny on his side?

(Danny punched his way into a new dimension after escaping from the burning remains of Amity Park. His parents, sister, and friends fell in battle trying to keep humans and ghosts safe after the GIW started a war with the zone.

After losing his hometown, he led the spirits to victory once the GIW labeled all citizens as too contaminated and ripped away their rights. His town's survivors were at his side, fighting for the ones they lost.

Once they beat the GIW, the government was informed of the small civil war and disbanded the department. It was a hollow victory- their apologies and promises to rebuild would never bring back the ones he lost.

In his grief- and fear of becoming Dan- he went to Clockwork, who only shook his head and told him time was flowing correctly. He then went to FrostBite, who, after listening to the broken King, offered him a home among his people. Danny lived with the Far Frozeen for three years when he was offered a position on the exploration team that would map out the Ghost Zone.

Only the elites of the elites were allowed among them. He accepted. He was given a watch, a magical journal to record what he saw, and feast as a far well.

He then flew through the first uncharted portal, punching the barrier between worlds and bursting into a new universe where he would record and report back to the Far Frozen after five years of living among the natives.

Turns out, flinging himself at the barrier of reality took a lot of power, so when he got to the other side, he promptly passed out. He found himself inside a large tube, contaminating the water with his ectoplasm, and when he woke, it was to a bold man standing outside his box with greed in his eyes.

Danny used the ghostly wail out of instinct. Which may have been overkill since the man offered him frozen ectoplasm after almost passing out again for using what little he had acquired during his nap.

Maybe one day he'll see him again and say thanks. For now, Danny had a new world to explore. )

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Lex Luther's Youngest #dimension travel #Danny is confused for Kryptonian #Yes his portal open inside the test tube for another failed clone #Lex is going to dad him #If he can catch him

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pandoraslxna · 1 year

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Special friends - Chapter 2

adult Neteyam x female omatikaya reader

Words: 3.8k

Summary: You’ve been such a good girl, helping Neteyam out when he was in pain. Now it’s time for him to repay the favor, don’t you think?

Warnings: explicit smut, oral sex, vaginal fingering, corruption kink, manipulative behavior, innocent virgin reader, best friends with benefits, they’re having a sleepover

The air in his marui was filled with natural scents, the lingering smell of leaves, grass and later that evening, something sweet too.

Neteyam thanked Eywa for the little hunting trip your parents went to. They had left the village for a few days, knowing their precious daughter would be safe and sound in the care of the olo'eyktan's family. You and Neteyam were like two peas in a pod, never one without the other anyways. And Jake and Neytiri assured them that their oldest would look after you, that he would take care of you and your needs until they were back and that he was to be trusted with this responsibility. He was their golden child for a reason. And Neteyam couldn’t believe his luck.

A soft body was now laying beside him, an arm was placed under your head to serve as a pillow, his tail possessively wrapped around your hip and your back against his chest, pressing your bodies even closer together. Soft hair were tickling his cheek as Neteyams head was buried in the crook of your neck. Having you this close felt unbelievable good.

No words could describe that feeling when you had finally agreed to move your sleeping mat closer to his, when he had successful lured you to sleep on your side so he could spoon you.

Something was on your mind, Neteyam could tell by the way you were chewing your bottom lip all day. He watched very attentively, how you kept avoiding his gaze, how your cheeks would turn pink whenever he did catch you looking at him. And how you tossed and turned on your sleeping mat, laying just a few feet away from him. Something was definitely on your mind and he was determined to find out what it is.

"Can’t sleep, hm?", he had asked you after watching how you had no control over your tail trashing and tapping on the woven floor for hours. You were either really nervous or extremely excited, but whatever it was, it kept you sleepless.

In the dark, he still saw the way you turned around to face him, nodding and biting your lip as you looked at him from across the room.

"C‘mere peach", he reached his arms out for you to settle in between them, "tell me what’s troubling you." You were hesitant for a good while, much to his surprise. You had never denied him something before, so he was actually relieved when you finally moved to lay beside him.

A content hum was slipping through your lips as warm fingers brushed ever so lightly over your sensitive skin, tracing the stripes on your sides. Neteyam moved his head just enough to press a lazy kiss to your jaw every once in a while.

"So? What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"I don’t know…", came from beside him, your voice soft and uncertain and he knew that tone all too well.

Propping himself on one elbow, he looks down at you with furrowed eyebrows, "You know you can tell me everything, peach. I thought we would always share our secrets with each other?"

You sigh, knowing that sooner or later your best friends was always able to draw the words right out of you, so better tell him now. Last time you kept a secret from him, he was denying you kisses for two days straight. You almost went insane!

"I’ve been thinking about… about that day", you admit so quietly, you almost whisper.

"About what exactly?", he tilts his head questioningly and you completely miss the teasing tone in his voice.

"You said you had that tingling feeling in your belly from kissing and, uhm…", you squeeze your eyes shut as you proceed to let the words fall out of your mouth like a waterfall, "You know that I feel it too sometimes but… but now I have it even without kissing you and it’s just there all the time when I see you and it’s strange and I’m feeling weird and it makes my head all fuzzy and–"

"Oh", he simply says. You open your eyes again to look at him, but his facial expression’s are really hard to read right now. It makes you squirm and hide your face in your hands and you regret that you had even bought this up, feeling dumb for admitting something like this to him. You had no idea what those feelings were, why they were spreading in warm waves from your belly down to your core and simultaneously clouding your head enough so you could barely focus on anything else but him. Because what you did, how you helped him out, that moment has been playing in your minds eye nonstop for the past few days.

"That’s so embarrassing, I’m sorry, I– I shouldn’t have said something", you mumble against the palm of your hand that was covering your face.

"It’s not embarrassing, skxawng", Neteyam then chuckles, surprising you enough to lower your hands and take a peek at him. "It’s not?"

"No!", he shakes his head, loving the way your eyes soften when he caresses your cheek affectionately. You really had no idea what was happening with you. Neteyam bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning like some perv before he continued, "Look, you’ve been such a good girl, helping me out when I was in pain. Maybe I could help you out too?" Your eyes widened slightly at that, nodding along his words like he was lecturing you on something. "I can make that weird feeling go away, peach. Would you like me to help you? Just say so and I’ll do it."

A smile formed on your plumb lips and a sign of relief was clearly written on your face. Neteyams face lowered enough to hover just inches from yours and for a moment you think that he may kiss you, leaning in to let him capture your lips but he doesn’t move. "Use your words, pretty girl", he just teases, loving the way you squirmed underneath him.

"Can you help me, Teyam? Pretty please", you giggle. "Anything for my best girl", he smiles and then you’re rewarded with him actually leaning down to kiss you, soft and tender, and you sigh against his lips.

This was the perfect setup, Neteyam knew it. Adrenaline coursed through his body and he could hear his heart thumping in his chest. He could see that you were a little nervous, uncertain about what might happen now. But there was something else in your eyes. Trust. You trusted him with your whole heart and fuck, did that make him hard underneath his loincloth.

"Lay down on your back for me, yes?", he ordered and you happily complied, shifting so you laid flat on your back. Neteyam laid on his side next to you, propped on his elbow to get a good view of your body laid out before him like a desert.

"Perfect, you’re doing so good, peach", he praises you, making you blush. His eyes drift to your lips, tongue sneaking out to lick his own as he leans down. For a moment he lingers, like he can’t decide whether he wants to keep kissing you or move down to your neck. He decides to go for both, kissing your lips first and then your neck. You can’t help but giggle, his tongue tickling you as he sucks and licks on your skin.

Soon, there’s this warmth spreading in your stomach. And it’s like he feels it too, because he pulls back to look at you, smiling a very different smile now. His eyes shift from your own, to the way his hand had caressed your belly, his fingertips barely touching your soft skin as they move over your stripes. He moves lower and lower, until he’s passed your navel and reaches the cords that’s holding your loincloth together.

"Where are you feeling weird, is it here?", he asks, his fingers teasingly playing with the woven fabric covering your private parts, where a wet patch was already forming. You nod weakly, not trusting your voice enough to speak, especially when he moves your loincloth to the side and exposes your most treasured part to him.

"Feeling all special down there, hm?", Neteyam chuckles when you attempt to close your thighs.

You squeeze your eyes shut when he spreads your legs, draping one of them over his own thigh to keep them apart. You whimper at the foreign feeling when his middle finger glides through your folds, collecting your slickness on his digits. "Open your eyes, peach", Neteyam kisses your temple, "Need you to see how pretty you look, such a beautiful girl. Look how wet you are, that must’ve hurt, hm? So desperate to get touched and you didn’t even know."

You can’t help the shiver that runs through you at his words. The look he gives you this time is much softer, but it still makes your blood run hot, makes you feel like the electricity in your nerves are sparking just under your skin. You turn your head to the side to look at him properly. His pupils are almost completely blown black now and without missing a beat he grabs your chin lightly, guiding your gaze back to your lower half. Heat rushes up your neck and to your cheeks when he spreads you folds. With his index finger, he expertly finds that little nub that’s so sensitive to touch and gently presses down on it.

"Teyam!", you gasp his name, your hips unintentionally moving and bucking up against his hand. "T-That felt…"

"Good? I know", he chuckles. Neteyam continues teasing your clit, rubbing it in tight circles, smearing your slick over the little bundle of nerves so he can glide over it more easily. He rolls it, taps and rubs and you‘re so focused on what he‘s doing, that you barely register how embarrassingly loud your moans have turned. You’re whining and writhing against him, not even trying to look dignified at this point, the sensation verging on overwhelming and it’s foreign and strange, yet it’s so, so good.

But suddenly it’s gone and you whine in protest. For a moment everything is still, and you realize for the first time that you’re panting heavily.

You’re stretching up, wordlessly begging him to kiss you, to do something, but he doesn’t relent. He just holds you there, with a smirk on his face, like he’s plotting something.

"I‘m gonna put a finger in, okay?", he asks you with a kiss to the corner of your mouth, "Think you can take it?"

A finger? In like... inside? Inside you? There was no way this was going to fit. Were fingers even supposed to go in there? His hand is so much bigger than yours, surely this wasn’t possible!

"I- I don’t know if I can—", you manage to stutter out and your breathing seemingly increased.

"Hmh I think you can, peach. I promise it’s gonna feel good, don’t you trust me?" His words are soft and calming and you do, you trust him completely. Neteyam would never hurt you, he would never ask anything of you that you weren’t actually capable of. He knew you better than you did yourself. When you nod, he runs his fingers back through the slick between your thighs, teasing a finger against your slit and you can’t help but tense a little. Neteyam coos beside you, whispering sweet praises in your ear that actually help you relax, before he pushes his middle finger inside, ever so slowly and you hold your breathe.

He’s carful, taking a deliberate breathe like he’s trying to compose himself. You’re completely unaware of how painful hard his cock is, neglected from any sort of touch and the combination of his loincloth restraining him and you writhing and moaning next to him was starting to become unbearable.

His thumb still rolls over your clit, while he pushes his finger inside you to the last knuckle. It’s a tight fit, but that was to expected. You’re warm and wet and tight and fuck he can’t help but groan once he can’t push his digit further in. Your velvety walls clamp down on him and oh how good would that feel around his cock, he thinks to himself.

"Oh great mother, you’re so tight. I love you so much, peach", he mumbles likes he’s drunk, drunk of the sight in front of him, "Fuck, see how well you’re taking my finger? You’re so perfect, my favorite girl is doing so good for me."

You work to steady your breathing, reveling in the feeling of his touch and the sweet praises he mumbles but the feeling when he finally moves his finger inside you is something else. It’s confusing, the way he makes you feel. But it’s amazing.

He thrusts his finger in and out, slow at first but his speed increases the louder you moan. Neteyam hums thoughtfully, still rubbing your clit, grinding the palm of his hand against it too, every time he pushes deep inside you.

But Neteyam had a hard time doing all of this. Literally.

His mind was fuzzy, clouded with the squelching sounds of your pussy and the delicious sight of your juices running down his knuckles and the way you squeezed him, moaning his name with your hips bucking up and unintentionally chasing his hand whenever he moved just slightly away. He wanted to push another finger in, hear you whine and cry out because that would definitely be too much for your needy little hole. After all, you’ve never done anything like this.

Sweet, innocent girl has never had anything inside of her before, except for his finger. Neteyam was determined to be your first with everything and having another mile stone completed in this very second, has him drooling and thrusting his cock up in the air. This whole situation was making him harder than anything ever before and he couldn’t wait for the day he would finally make you his. But not now. Not like this. Right now, he wanted to do something else.

You just looked way too delicious right now, your clear arousal smearing between his digits like honey and fuck he wanted to taste it so bad.

"Remember the reason why I call you peach?", Neteyam asked lowly, gently blowing air against the shell of your ear where he had previously nippled and licked your skin, making goosebumps appear all over your body. You squirm when the movement of his finger slows down, until he only grinds his hand against your pussy.

"Because you.. you said I’m sweet like a peach", you tell him panting and he chuckles at your desperate state.

"Have you ever tasted one?", he asks with a smile.

You look at him questioningly when he moves to sit up, retreating his hand from between your thighs to settle himself there instead. Furrowing your brows, you’re met with a sharp grin as he lays on his stomach between your legs, hooking them up and letting them rest on his shoulders with his hands on either backside of your thighs.

It takes a moment for you to remember that he had asked you question, shaking your head you answer him, "N-No, of course not. It’s a fruit from earth."

You gasp when he kisses the plush inside of your thighs, his fangs lightly grazing over your soft skin making you shudder.

"Exactly", he grins from between your thighs, "I’ve never tasted a peach before either. But since the day I found out they exist, I’ve wanted to taste one. I could only ever imagine how they taste, how sweet, so delicious and juicy. That’s why you’re my peach."

And with that, Neteyam lowers his head and completely catches you off guard when he licks a long stripe between your folds. You gasp, fisting the woven mat below you and try to arch your back, away from his tongue, but you’re met with the resistance of Neteyam hands holding you in place.

"N-Not there!", you whine embarrassed, your cheeks flushed a dark red, "Teyam don’t— that’s dirty!"

"S‘not dirty", he slurs before he presses the flat of his tongue against your core again, "Fuck, you taste so sweet."

Neteyam is sloppy, desperate as he buries his face between your thighs and licks long stripes from your entrance to your clit. He’s lapping at that little nub, drooling all over it while he kisses and sucks and it’s too much for you. You can’t help but whine and moan loudly, squeezing your eyes shut because you’re simply embarrassed by the act. Neteyam, your dearest friend, was using his mouth on you– on such a private part of your body.

Meanwhile, he groans as he laps up some of your slickness where it leaks out of you and his eyes roll all the way back into his head from your taste. Neteyam can’t help but grind his hard cock against the ground, desperate to get to his release himself as he eats you out.

If you would just take a second to look at him, you would’ve realized how much he was enjoying this. He was gripping your thighs to keep them apart, clinging to you and wrapping himself up in your body, smothering himself with your legs and your puffy pussy. He doesn’t even want to breathe it seems.

Your thighs quiver in his hold and your hips jerk completely unintentionally, like your body was trying to get him to where it feels best to you. At this, Neteyams tongue slides over your entrance and dips inside, as far as he can reach, and your eyes fly open to look at him. There’s this look on his face, like a predator catching sight of its prey. His eyes are completely focused on you and then his tongue moves to thrust and you almost choke on a sob. "Teyam, s-slow down", you whimper, but he doesn‘t listen. If anything, his pace seemed to increase even more. At one point, one of his hands comes down to rest on your pelvis, pressing just slightly down while his thumb begins to circle your clit again. He suck and kisses and groans against you and it just sounds so obscene to your innocent ears.

"Hm, filthy girl you’re moaning so loud", you hear Neteyam chuckle, kissing your clit hard enough to make your whole body jerk. "It’s okay, peach you’re doing great. Feels good, right?"

"Hmh", you only hum. It’s barely a response, but it seemed like he had successfully sucked your vocal cords and every rational thinking thought out of you. If that was how he had felt a couple of days ago, you were impressed with how composed he was when you helped him out, especially compared to your current state. You were a mess.

"I can tell that you’re close, peach, just let it happen. You’re gonna feel so much better soon, I promise."

Neteyam was more than happy to keep going, enjoying the warmth of your arousal coating his tongue as he continued. You were trembling with pleasure, lightly grinding your cunt against his soft lips as his tongue pushed deep into you, exploring every inch and loving it.

You couldn’t fight it anymore, the way you arched up into his touch, whimpering in response to the way his tongue was thrusting into your pussy, only stopping to kiss your clit eagerly, as he slid his hands up and down the soft of your thighs, gently massaging and kneading your flesh.

It felt heavenly. You couldn’t deny it anymore. It was wrong– so, so wrong, because Neteyam wasn’t supposed to lick and kiss you at such a dirty place, but by Eywa did it feel good.

Unbeknownst to you, Neteyam was still grinding his cock against the floor. He was so on the edge that it was almost painful. You can feel him moan against your spit slicked clit and the vibration only adds further to the stimulation. He can’t believe that the sheer taste of you and the act of eating you out was enough to make him cum to quickly. He bucks his hips against the ground in the same rhythm of the thrusts of his tongue inside you, almost edging himself because he wanted nothing more than to come with you. Together.

Good thing you weren’t far behind him, squirming and arching your back, with you pussy clenching around nothing. When he glances up from between your thighs, he spots tears pricking at the corner of your eyes and that’s when he decides it’s enough. He shifts his arm so he can comfortably slide his middle finger inside you, curling it as if he’s beckoning to you, just right to hit that spongey spot that finally makes you fall apart for him.

"Teyam, Teyam stopstopstopstop", you try to wriggle away, not knowing what’s about to happen and when you finally come, your whole body tenses, choking on your words you suck in a sharp breathe. With his lips secured on your clit, he helps you through it, let’s you ride it out on his digit while his other hand holds you firm on the ground. Neteyam feels how you hold you breathe, feels how your legs tremble and then you gasp, loud and wanton. Immediately, your hands find purchase on top of his head, tugging on his braids when he doesn’t stop lapping on the slickness that pools around his knuckles. "C-Can’t", you whimper softly, "Teyam, s-stop, please."

He’s so lost in the taste of your cum, that he didn’t even realize he just came himself. It’s only when your legs begin to twitch in overstimulation and when the sticky mess smearing between his cock and his loincloth becomes too uncomfortable, that he finally withdraws from between your legs to sit up on his heels.

In all of the years Neteyam has known you, he’s pretty sure he’s never seen you this beautiful before. Your chest sinks and heaves in big pants, face flushed and your skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. Your lips are slightly parted and your eyes half lidded and he can’t help but lay down right on top of you, with his waist comfortably between your spread legs. Neteyam rests his face on top of your chest and relishes in the comforting sound of your rapid heartbeat slowly returning to normal.

Pressing a tender kiss to the space between your breasts, he then tilts his head to look up at you, "How are you feeling, peach? Better?"

"M‘good. So good“, you slur, smiling at him weakly, "thank you…"

"No need to thank me, pretty girl", he chuckles, pressing his face against the soft swell of your chest just a little tighter. "But promise me you’re going to say something, next time you feel strange. Just tell me, no one else, okay? Otherwise I can’t help you feel better."

#neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam x female reader #neteyam #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam sully #neteyam x y/n #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #atwow neteyam #neteyam x you #neteyam x omaticaya!reader

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theblueflower05 · 1 year

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Just a Little Taste

A/N: Welp. Somehow my breeding/breastfeeding kinks manifested themselves into a story. I wrote this sky high on painkillers and I am a little in love with the whole premise. @tiredmamaissy -I hope more than anything that you enjoy this. You deserve all of the goodness on this site. Your Masterlist is my personal spank bank lol

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: This story is Filthy. Smut with very little plot. Breastfeeding. Pussy Eating. Slight mommy kink if you squint. Very pregnant reader getting pleasured, because pregnant beings can still be sexual. Aged up!Neteyam

You are responsible for cultivating your own online experience, please do not interact if any of these tags are triggering to you. Minors DNI.

Summary: You’re eight months pregnant with Neteyams child, and after a long day, you both need a little relief. Neteyam x Human! Reader

"Sugar, Honey, Iced Tea

Bumble-bee on the scene.

Yeah, I'd give up my bakery to have a piece of your pie"

- See You Again, Tyler the Creator ft Kali Uchis

Life in the village is always busy. Constantly bustling with life and movement as everyone; human scientist, Avatar and Na’vi alike, rush to keep things afloat.

High Camp is so different then Home Tree had been, the rage of war adding a constant edge to long days and restless nights. You miss the comfort of a slow life, of hazy days down in the jungle. The jagged cliffs of the Hallelujah Mountains still don’t quite feel like home to you.

Still, you go about your daily duties.

Being a Pandoran raised human had always given you a different insight, the two massively different cultures you we’re brought up in clashing and mending to create a skill set that was like no other- it had taken many years of painful trial and error to find your place within the Omiticaya, but healing had always come naturally.

Both holistic and surgical alike. You’d spent years shadowing Mo’at and learning the ancient herbal ways of the people, while well as taking advantage of the many PHD toting scientist back at Hell’s Gate. Medicine had no boundaries, was a way for you to feel close to both sides of yourself. To broach the gap between human and clansman.

You find your skills being needed more than ever. The ever constant raids against the RDA means your hands are rarely idle, forever in movement as you tend to the wounded. Some days you sit in the big Healers Tent with Mo’at and the other Taskarem, and others you’re in the makeshift Medi Bay, which is really more of an Avatar Pod Trailer turned OR, with the handful of human surgeons.

The long hours spent on your feet leave you sore and exhausted, but you have to pull your weight.

Even if said weight is far heavier than usual as of late-

“Y/N” you’re broken out of your thoughts by Max- as he enters the trailer with a holo-tab in hand and a concerned look in his dark eyes “What are you still doing here?”

“I was just finishing up inventory- our antibiotic stock is back way up. Jake was right, those helicopter raids were more than worth it” you’d sorted out the tiny vials of vital medicine by hand, not wanting any to be misplaced or mislabeled.

“You don't think maybe you should head home?” He continues and you sigh.

You miss your tent, and the soft bed of furs that lay inside the secure warm flaps. And the man that waits for you inside of the patchwork leather walls-

“I’m fine” you assure. And really, you are.

It's a fact you have to keep reminding people of.

Yes, you’re as big as a Strumbeast, but you are no less competent. No less able bodied.

Pregnancy is one of the most natural parts of life, a base staple in all’s existence. There are plenty of pregnant Omiticaya women who were expected to play their roles, even as the battle raged outside the safety of the mountain cave system.

It was the nature of your pregnancy that was more…fragile then average. Inside your womb grew a child that would be the first of it’s kind. A scientific mystery: no one had even known it was possible for Na’vi and humans to procreate.

And yet all of the evidence now lies under your shirt. Your stomach round and pronounced, full of growing life.

Full of the love between you and the Olo’eyktan’s eldest son.

Neteyam had left his permanent mark on you. Had part of himself growing inside of you. The thoughts we’re enough to make your knees buckle if you focused on them too hard.

“You’ve been here since 6am, you really should get some rest. Take one of the empty bunks if you want. Have you checked your blood pressure-”

You’re a grown woman. You’re not going to huff and puff and roll your eyes, but fuck, do you want to.

Everyone was so overbearing lately.

Norm and Max we’re constantly breathing down your neck; “The baby has a different growth rate then a human child, we need to monitor the way that your body is responding” Followed closely by Jake who watches you with sharp eagle like eyes and Neytiri, who used to all but ignore your presence, constantly checking in on you throughout the day. Mo’at’s always poking and prodigy, and Kiri almost always has her hands on you in some way shape or form.

You are glad for the support, happy that this baby would be so loved.

But really, you missed being treated like the competent, independent woman you knew you we’re.

“My blood pressure is fine. I thought since we ruled out preeclampsia we weren’t going to worry about it anymore” you know that it’s not going to silence his worry, but still. You can try.

Max goes on one of his science mambo jumbo spiels, and by the end of it you’re waddling out of the lab and back to your hut, annoyed as shit but placating your pseudo father figure all the same. Only a month and a half mor of this and then things could go back to normal.

Everything had just…changed so quickly.

You 're a caretaker by nature. Caring for others is easy, feels right. You’d tucked the much older scientists into bed when you we’re just a pre-teen. Made dinners. Looked out for Spider and the other Sully’s-

And the role reversal still didn't quite sit right with you. Your control freak ways didn't do well with not being the one in charge- you’d been stripped of your title so to speak. You we’re supposed to relax into your new role, enjoy being doted over before the nine month’s we’re over.

You and Neteyam’s shared tent is in the centered in the cave, close to his families, but standing on its own. As private as anyone could get in the busy, close quartered camp. The walls of the hut are familiar, adorned with your combined belongings. Cozy and familiar.

You shimmy free of your confining bra, step out of your cargo pants, then toe off your boots, releasing your swollen sock covered feet with a groan before collapsing into your well loved bed, the soft blankets and familiar scent of your mate lulling you into a deep state of peace.

It’s kind of wild how quickly you can fall asleep these days. Growing a little person from scratch tends to burn a lot of energy and the moment you relax, you’re out like a light.

You don't wake up, even when the horns are sounded for the return of the War Party.

Not when Neteyam makes his way through the camp and enters the tent. He’s wearty, grime covered and hunched over. He only softens when he sees you, tucked safely, into his bed. Your eyes still closed and face still scrunched up as he strips out of his battle band and shin covers. He’s quiet, washing off with the large freshwater basin in the corner before making his way over to his much-missed bed mat.

It isn't until he's crawled under the blankets and wiggled his way as close to you as possible that you begin to stir. His large cat like snout nuzzles into the vulnerable crevice of your neck, chuffing hot breaths against the smooth skin.

You’re not upset at him for waking you up, a drowsy half alert smile stretches over your lips as your hands run up his strong back. Gently working the tense muscles.

He gets so greedy when he comes back from the War runs. He needs to be comforted, to be held and you are all too willing to comply.

Everyone else infantiles you now, and yeah, Neteyam could get a little intense and overprotective, but your relationship had always worked because you were the one person in all of Pandora that babied the future chief.

He was such a sweet man, with so much responsibility on his plate. You loved nothing more than holding him in your arms. Letting him release any and all tension because you had him. You, a tiny soft skinned human, were the barrier between him and the ruthless world.

You’d be such a great mother to his children. His hind brain purrs at the thought. That even through all of the controversy, he knows he’d chosen the right mate. Little and fierce, he hopes the baby is just like you.

“Are you okay?” You ask, tone hushed in the darkness of the tent. The only light coming from the small dying embers of the firepit in the center of the space. Hypnotic shadows dance along the canvas walls and Neteyam's breathing grows shallow as he sinks into it.

The way you smell. The way your heart beats, strong against his cheek. The way your plump body feels so good under his wandering hands. He hadn't been okay, just moments ago. He was delirious, so sick of the fighting that he felt ill with it.

But how could any of those bad feelings exist when he had you waiting for him? Ready to welcome him into your body, your heart, your mind. He doesn't think he could survive without knowing the solace of your love.

“I’m okay, narlor(beauty). Just missed you” he mutters, still trying to dig his face deeper into your skin. He wants to escape inside of you, you chuckle at his futile attempts to mend you both into one entity. His large palms rest against your bloated belly, tenderly and your heart flutters “Missed you both so much”

Being so loved is overwhelming.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

“I missed you, my sweet baby. I missed you all day” you assure him with the words you know he needs to hear. “Our son here thought it would be fun to jump on his sa’nok’s bladder all day. It was like was playing the wokau(pendulum drum) all day long- I spent hours in running back and forth to the bathroom”

Neteyam's laugh is deep and rich. Thoroughly pleased to listen to your stories of your day, eager to hear every minute detail. Desperate to drown out visions of blood and gun smoke with your voice.

“Ah, you have to be nice to your momma, little one” he chastises the bump, raising your shirt over your head, wanting that flimsy barrier gone. His lips trail over the tight skin of your bulging belly as he speaks to his child.

Your son, still safe inside your soft body, knows his fathers voice already. Recognizes that slightly accented cadence, and squirms inside of you happily.

Neteyam usually speaks strictly in Na’vi to your unborn child-

“He needs to know the language of our people, first and foremost”

-he’ll spend hours whispering his mother tongue into your flesh. It always leaves you boneless and shaking. Feeling so special and cared for. Na’vi, though your second language, is familiar to you. You’re fluent in the language- but fuck. The way your mate speaks it is the most beautiful thing. It’s musical, he tells sprawling stories with his colorful words.

There is one English he’s very fond of though. Every time it leaves his plush mouth it makes you grin, sharp. Knowingly.

“Are you gonna be nice to momma, Neteyam?” you question him after a while. His ears quirk, swiveling on his head and his tale flicks once, in obvious excitement.

You know what he’s wanted, ever since he woke you up by nuzzling at your chest. Ever since he peeled off your top and left your heavy breasts bare. Did he think you missed the way his golden gaze would flick to them, eyeing them hungrily.

He needs this as much as you do, but as usual, your sweet boy is too selfless to ask. Won't trouble you with his wants unless you bring it up first.

You reach for his big hand that rests on your belly, and drag it to where you need him. His palm enveloping your tits, the rough callus’s catching on your sensitive nipple just right-

Your pregnancy had been different than regular humanoid pregnancies. Your body worked hard, thrown into overdrive in an attempt to keep up with the fast growing fetus in your womb. You’d started lactating months ago, far earlier then normal. Your breasts firm, full with milk. Ready to feed the child that had not yet come into the world.

At first it had been both painful and embarrassing. You had no child to drink what you were producing and the other breastfeeding women in the tribe we’re hesitant to feed their babies your tawtute(human) milk. Already over emotional due to the hormone change, you’d wept at the fact that you had no one to give what your body readily made.

The fact that you couldn't be a bigger part of your community due to your human heritage, combined with the intense pain that came from having backed up ducts had been too much,

Eventually you’d turned to Neteyam, both your eyes and shirt soaking wet. Begged him to help you. And of course, as always, he did.

It should be awkward, or shameful- but connecting with him on any level is something you cherish. Why would this be any different?

“I’m always nice to you, aren't I, love?” Neteyam gruffs as he gently works at the breast in his hands. Its firm and full of milk, his mouth waters “Do they hurt again?”

“Mhmm” you whine pathetically, and you’re not lying. The skin of your chest is now marred by stretch marks and you’d had to stuff precious, hard to come by toilet paper down your bra all day to keep them from spilling over “They’re so full, Nete”

“Oh” He hums, thumbing at your nipple “Poor momma, I’ll help you. Don't worry” his lips are wet against your skin as he kisses his way to your breast, his tongue peeking out to circle your puffy nipple. A pearlescent drop of milk tops the rosy bud and he groans as it hits his taste buds.

He tells you that you taste good, often. The juices of your pussy, your spit soaked kisses. He’s always been greedy for it, his tongue bullying its way into your holes, desperate for your essence. Your milk is just as delicious as the rest of you.

It quickly goes from kitten licking, wide wet stripes against your pebbled nipple to sucking your big breast as far into his mouth as he could. Careful of his fangs as he gorges himself on your flesh.

He’s loudly appreciative as he suckles on your nipple. Grunting and humming and moaning at the flavor. Your arms come around him, cradling his head to your bosom because it feels so good. Having him this close, knowing that he'd do anything to take care of you. That he truly loved the way you tasted-

Many people thought you and Neteyam would never last. It was lust, they’d claim. Curiosity. A childhood friendship that would fizzle out eventually. Na’vi needed Tsaheylu, it was the lifeblood of all their relationships. Why would the much desired future Olo’eyktan stay with you if he couldn't even properly bond you?

While you couldn't deny that there we’re doubt filled moments that you yourself wondered why he’d chosen you and stayed so loyal to you…you still felt your own form of connection to him. While you’d love to make that sacred bond with him, you didn't feel any less close to your mate.

You never thought that you could be so intertwined with another being.

As Neteyam takes his fill from your breast, you massage the base of his Kuru, firm enough that it makes him hiss. You have no special braid of your own, but he’s always been very free with his when it comes to you.

You can do with as you please. Stroke it. Lick it. Massage it. Hell, he’d even let you touch glowing pink tendrils at the end of it before. Let you feel his exposed nerves, so vulnerable and raw in your hands that he had shed tears as you explored.

Nothing was taboo in your relationship. There was no space undiscovered between you.

Your bodies we’re so very different, and yet you knew his like the back of your hand. All of the strong muscles and hard sinew. The cobalt expanse of his skin didn't have one blemish that you haven't memorized. You could point out his striped pattern in a sea of other Na’vi.

And he knows you right back.

Loves to dig his fingers into your doughy hips, into your pillowy thighs. Your wide ass and ample chest. He loves your form, goes crazy for all of your alien curves. He never cared for your human modesty, he’d wanted to part your ass cheeks and stare at plump of your pussy for as long as he could remember. Wanted to strip you of all of those clothes and just stare.

The fact that he gets to do just that, for the rest of your lives, is his favorite, favorite thing.

You watch him eagerly as he slowly nurses. You can't get enough of the sight of him, his hollowed cheeks, the bob of his throat as he swallows your free flowing milk. He's so strong, his muscles flex in the dim light. All of that strength, and yet he’s so very gentle with you, his rough tongue laving at your sore buds every couple minutes. Soothing and tickling you all the same.

You giggle at a particularly quick swipe, letting out a small squeal as Neteyam’s tongue plays with the flesh in his mouth. His eyes peek open, glittering with mirth and low boiling heat as he meets your gaze. Whin his lips split into a smile, a dribble of translucent white milk escapes. Trickles down from the corners of his lips.

Heat pulses between your legs and you know he can smell how aroused you are.

Neteyam has always been able to turn you on without even trying. A well spoken word, or even a pointed look could get you running your thighs together. All desperate to get him alone and put your hands all over him.

You hate that you cant kiss him the way you want to, your Exo Mask, while necessary to your survival can be suck a fucking menace sometimes.

Your thumb traces his lips, the ones you want pressed against your own so bad. You rub the spilled milk from his chin. Cleaning him up in a way that's so simple, and so beyond erotic.

He breaks eye contact first, like he just can't look at you anymore. His brows all scrunched up, his chest raising and falling rapidly. He releases your sloppy nipple, completely covered in his saliva, and presses his face against the damp skin. Making a sound of distress.

Your fingernails skritch at his scalp, tangled in his many braids “What is it, baby?”

“I wanna fuck you so bad. Eywa, do you even smell yourself, Y/N? So good. I have to-”

“Yeah, yeah, okay” You nod, agreeing blindly. He can have whatever he wants.

“Fuck you hard, though. Gotta pound you. I know I shouldn't but it’ll be alright, huh? Won't hurt the baby?” his face is still buried in your skin, you cant even see his expression as he pleads for your pussy. It makes you so hot.

You push at his chest, needing him to get off of you for just a moment. He’s heavy as shit, a dead weight- doesn't really move until you're pouting and demanding for him to just give you a little space.

Enough that you can wiggle out of your panties and spread your thighs wide for him. Your swollen, sticky pussy on display for your mate.

His nostrils flare, and his thin tail whips wildly behind him.

When he swings your thick thighs up onto his broad shoulders, you let out a low, appreciative moan.

“Such a good boy for momma” you praise him the way the people praise the Great Mother. The cradle of your thighs a sanctuary where you both come to worship.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Welp, I should be finishing up Part Three of First Love/Late Spring or plotting out future installments of The Sweetest Sylaung, but here I am writing nursing filth. Lol I truly have zero regrets, this story was so very self fulfilling(even though it partially came from a request). I hope you guys enjoyed though

As mentioned many times before, requests are currently open. Please send in all that good shit. I could use a good distraction from real life!

#neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam sully smut #aged up neteyam #Neteyam x pregnant reader

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ferrstappen · 1 year

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Hello! So while I’m procrastinating and ignoring the book in front of me, I got this quick idea and I hope you like it! Remember you can send me ideas or prompts to write blurbs 💘

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Warnings: maybe a swear word and nsfw mentioned if you squint.

AirPods and princess George (Charles Leclerc blurb)

Charles was playfully rolling his eyes at you and Joris the entire walk from the gate to the flight taking you to Miami, neither of you could contain the laughter of seeing your boyfriend trying to pick up his AirPods with a couple of tweezers like he was playing Operation.

Whenever your or Joris calmed down, images of Charles trying to pick up the dirty case between the tiny space was enough to bring the tears back to your face while clutching your stomach.

“It’s not that funny, it could’ve happened to any of you!” Charles playfully complained while placing his carry-on bag on the overhead compartment.

“Sweetheart, if it happened to me I would’ve cried, but kept my dignity and buy a new pair. I know you can afford them Mr. Ferrari,” you teased him as he accommodated your carry-on bag. “Window or aisle, babe?” You asked him, leaving the teasing aside.

“Aisle please, you know I like to pretend it’s my side of the bed,” he said accommodating his belongings on the big first class pod, carefully pulling down the partition separating both of your seats.

“I don’t think we’re going to sleep much, though. It’s pretty early,”

“I know, but I was thinking we could catch this new show I downloaded, Citadel I think?” He said and you smiled, leaving a shy peck on his lips, knowing that even if it was first class, people were watching and could easily snap pictures. Fans knew you were Charles’ girlfriend, but he was constantly protecting your privacy and keeping everything between the both of you.

And his jpg Instagram account, of course.

“Hey, i’m right behind you so don’t you dare on joining the mile high club or whatever,” Joris warned the both you as he adjusted his eye mask, ready to wake up when they already were in Miami.

“What makes you think we haven’t joined the club already?” You retorted, followed by a gagging sound from Joris, and a blushing Charles who placed his hand very low on your back.

A few hours passed and while the series that Charles downloaded was good, he failed to notice it only had two episodes, leaving you with only the in-flight catalogue and unstable wifi.

Charles noticed you yawning and eyes fighting to stay open, so he called the flight attendant to help him turn the seat into a very comfortable bed, doing the same on his seat as Charles placed his arm under your neck and your head found its natural place on his shoulder, with your hand draped on his waist.

Suddenly, your arm was moving and no, it wasn’t because of the plane, it was being moved by something shaking. As you came to your senses, noticing the cabin lights were turned off, you also became aware of your boyfriend trying to suppress his laugh while looking at his phone.

“What’s so funny?” You asked him nuzzling into his side, his arm instinctively tightening around your shoulders.

His green eyes were shining even under the dark lighting of the cabin, “sorry, bebe, did I wake you?” He asked leaving a kiss on your hair.

You stirred on his arms, “no, it’s fine. Now tell me what’s so funny”

This time Charles couldn’t hold back his giggles, but still careful not to disturb the other passengers, but his low giggles music to your ears. “Look, its a meme of me playing Operation with the tweezers” he put the phone in front of your face.

“Baby, I told you that’s exactly what it looked like when you were pulling them,” you joined him with the quiet laughter, but then he found something even funnier.

He snorted.

“Charles!” You laughed just by seeing the reaction of your boyfriend, who couldn’t contain his laughter while clutching his stomach, but still aware of the sleeping passengers close to you.

Even Joris who both of you were sure was snoring while wearing the most ridiculous eye mask and special compression socks.

“Babe, I mean look at this!” He again placed his phone in front of your eyes, and you had to admit it was pretty funny. “It’s Max and George! Ah, I think I’m crying”

And you quietly laughed, but saved the sound of his carefree giggles and disheveled hair, but with his arm never letting go of you.

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc blurb #f1 fic #f1 x you

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starwrighter · 1 year

Text

A DpxDc prompt because I <3 all of you but am too shy to talk in the discord.

The Subnautica au I promised! (I might make two of them)

Okay, so Danny is around 14 or 15 in this. He is still a halfa but the portal has been temporarily closed for plot reasons. So the portal is closed and Danny has no clue what to do now. Due to the portal being closed Danny's grades have improved exponentially enough that he gets an work offer from Altera (ignore the child labor it's the Giw/Altera's shady business practices fault)

Danny is ecstatic because he's finally getting the opportunity to go to space! He knows if he waits the portal will be reopened and he'll never have a chance like this again so he takes it. In less than a month Danny has been trained and is shipped off to the Aurora. He's heading towards planet 4546b with very little information on the planet itself.

The crash happens and Danny doesn't use his powers to save the ship because something around the atmosphere was preventing full accessing his powers in full. Danny scrambles to the life pods and ends up being the only one in life pod five. The whole life pod scene happens with Danny being knocked out by the panel flying off the wall.

He wakes up with the life pod on fire and quickly uses what he can of his ice powers to put it out not realizing there's a fire extinguisher. Danny exits the life pod and realizes that a lot of people he talked to on the ship not even a day ago were probably dead. Judging by his inability to go ghost, he wouldn't be reuniting with them in the ghost zone any time soon.

He is devastated but goes about exploring and trying to find any other survivors. His hope of finding survivors near the crash zone dies when the ship explodes and starts leaking deadly radiation. Danny of course rushes to try and fix this. It's easier for him to get there because he can stay under water for an inhuman amount of time and has a built up immunity to radiation as a halfa.

Now to the DC part of this. Let's stick with only the batfam existing in this universe. The entire batfam are classified as leviathan's. All of them have two forms with one of said forms being semi humanoid mer like appearance. They are still pretty big in this form, think 7-8ft at the smallest (aka Damian) The other form is something I like to call

Big f-ken fish™

Which is full on terrifying reapers (we'll decide what each of the fam specifically look like later) and a lot of them are chilling in the crash zone when Danny is fixing the Aurora's reactor. Danny has not yet been spotted by the reapers.

Now they're already pissed off because a big arse ship just crashed into their planet and destroyed a great deal of it. They don't exactly know what a space ship is but they do know that the technology is advanced and the only thing remotely close on their planet is from the precursors who were a bunch of pricks.

Before the explosion the fam kept an eye on the weird creatures that crawled out of the metal eggs They watch them almost immediately start dying from predators or Kharaa. They were there when the ship exploded and started leaking radiation and killing the local wild life much to Damian's despair.

So the Fam are pretty pissed off at this point and are circling the ship. They immediately noticed when the ship stops leaking radiation and spot Danny swimming away from the reck quicker than any of the other ones that crawled out of the eggs.

Granted most of the other ones from the eggs immediately died and didn't have faces (the wet suits looked weird and Danny refuses to wear them no matter how much easier they would make things >:(

They start watching him because obviously there's something odd about this thing it looks kinda like a much smaller version of their smaller forms. Danny is getting pretty ticked off that his PDA keeps making false alarms of leviathan's. Duke, and tim are the ones monitoring Danny in the safe shallows. Jason and Dick in the crash zone. Barbra and Stephanie in the kelp forest. Cass and Bruce are patrolling the grassy plateaus.Damian is by himself at the quarantine gun/ sunbeam landing sight.

Danny sets up base near the quarantine gun™ because for some reason even though he's not infected he can't turn the damn thing off. So Damian is the only one currently capable of watching him. Damian has a theory that he 100% sure is correct. As a 1600 year old leviathan he's not a baby he's almost an adult and doesn't remember being a baby. This thing crawled out of an egg and is super tiny so it is obviously a baby and a very smart one at that. While it didn't have the claws, gills, tail, or scales they had it was super fast, could freeze things, had super strong hands despite looking dull and frail, it could take useless scraps and rocks and turn them into complex structures. It was obviously a new type of leviathan the ship carrying eggs. Danny was the smallest of the babies but he was also the strongest, and smartest; surviving long enough to have eyes and hair. This baby was young enough that he still needed to surface for air he needed to be protected.

Danny has no clue he's now being stalked by a group of reapers that decided he was their new baby brother/son

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #dcxdp #anyone can add to this #this idea has a death grip on my soul and I have been waiting to rant about it for days!

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persefolli · 1 year

Text

𝐇𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐞.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @myheartfollower, @laylasbunbunny, @destinylb, @deadgirl02

Today was a beautiful day, clear skies and salty air lingered over Awa’atlu and every day you thanked Tonowari for letting you stay in this paradise you called home. Tonowari and Jake wasted no time in making you Tsahik after you accepted their confessions. You married and performed tsaheylu with Tonowari, then eloped with Jake, with Tonowari as a ‘witness’.

The Metkayina praised the relationship between the three of you, stating that the village will become more powerful with the three most powerful clan members running it. “Hey ladies, I’m gonna go get some hunting done today.” You peeked into the marui pod where the Metkayina weaved baskets and buckets. Your fellow weavers nodded and shooed you off to go hunt for dinner you would prepare for both Tonowari and Jake tonight.

You hadn't seen them all day, knowing that they had important duties to tend to. But you had very exciting news to tell them, and you wanted to do it in private, over dinner

You bolted into the forest, letting some warriors know about your whereabouts if anything happens. You got a great distance away from the reef, where some animals were sure to pop out. “What are we feeling? Viperwolf? Kentrocapa? Or maybe some….fish.” You spoke out loud to yourself….and your unborn child.

A few beats of silence and you chuckled, “Yeah we've had fish too much these past few days.” You began sniffing, tracking the scent of a nearby creature that you were bound to kill. Slowly walking over the damp grass, you found a viperwolf. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. You drew your bow, and focused right on the lone wolf that was eating some strange item in the ground. Before you could release your arrow, a shuffle in the bushes managed to scare the poor wolf off.

Your ears perked up, and you turned to face the rustling bushes, “Jake?” You smiled, expecting your lover to emerge from the bushes.

Instead, a taller, short-haired na’vi in tactical gear stepped out from the bushes. You knew he wasn't from around here, and the four fingered hand told you he was no real na’vi. You backed up, slightly losing your footing. “You’re not Jake.”

“Let's make this easy for both of us, peach.” He pulled out an orange band and began inching closer to you.

You swiftly grabbed your bow, drawing it back and releasing it, missing him by a long shot. At this rate he was too close for you to pull out another arrow, so you did what first came to mind.

“HELP!” You turned around and began to sprint, but he was bigger, and faster. He managed to tackle you to the ground and slap one side of the band on your wrist. “Hold still!” He grunted, struggling to slap the other side of the band on you. “JAKE! MA JAKE!” You screamed, hoping your lover was already on his way towards you, but that chance was slim. He turned you around to face him, as soon as you met his eyes you hissed, leaning up and biting his forearm. “Son of a-” Your eyes widened seeing the large rock in his hand.

---

“Have you guys seen Y/n today?” Jake walked into the weaving marui pod.

“She said she was going hunting in the forest earlier today.” One of the Metkayina members responded.

Jake hummed and walked out the pod, keeping his head on a swivel looking for you. Something didn't feel right, in his gut. He had just gotten back from the forest, and you weren't there. Even your scent seemed to fade the deeper he went into the forest. He walked to find Tonowari, who was in another pod talking to some warriors about new trading policies with other reef clans. Jake stood in the doorway and silently motioned two fingers towards him indicating they needed to talk.

“Have you seen Y/n today?”

“No, I assume she's weaving, yes?”

“No. They said she went hunting.”

“Well maybe she's in the forest.”

“I just came from the forest and she wasn't there. Her scent went cold.”

“Hm.” Tonowari nodded. “Maybe she went fishing instead.”

“Yeah….Fishing.” Jake agreed.

The both of them exchanged a look, a calm flowing between them. Their expressions didn't show it, but their senses spiked right in that moment. They didn't want to alarm one another, but they both knew that something was indeed wrong.

“I'll just wait…for a little while.” Jake walked off.

“Yes…she’ll show up eventually.”

Was Jake gonna wait? Of course not. He found his skimwing and immediately went diving in the reef, looking amongst the other metkayina for you. The longer he searched the more panicked he became. The last thing he wanted to do was look beyond the reef, because only Eywa knew what could've gotten ahold of you out there.

On the other side of the reef, Tonowari was diving and asking his clan members if they’d seen you. He became increasingly angry with each “No, I haven't seen Y/n.”

Tonowari was usually level headed, but knowing you were gone with no clue where you went made his mind run wild. He loved you so, almost to the point of obsession, and your absence made his nerves grow hot. He looked, and looked until the eclipse got closer.

The sky grew dark, and he finally met up with Jake in the middle of the reef, panting. “I can’t find her. No one has seen her Jake!”

“I couldn't find a trace of her, I even went beyond the reef.” Jake responded.

Just as he went silent, the static on his earpiece went off. “Can-hear-Corporal?” He managed to hear bits and pieces of the voice from the other side.

“Corporal.” He muttered. There was only one person who called him that.

Quaritch.

“Gather the best warriors and meet me at the edge of the reef, now!” Jake yelled at his best friend and went towards the reef border, where the signal became clearer. “Corporal, if you can hear me, know that I have something you want.” Quaritch said on the earpiece. In the background he heard a very faint moaning noise, very, very quiet.

“DAMN!” Jake slapped the waterbed, and the skimwing screeched, feeling the rage of it’s rider.”

---

Quaritch had a tight grip on your braid. Even though you were already bound up, he still took pride in torturing you. He yanked your braid every once in a while, and held a knife to your throat when you wouldn't quiet down. You were still dazed from him knocking you out with a rock earlier. Your throat was scratchy, and your cheeks were wet with tears. “Please Eywa please.” You muttered. “Tono- Ja- AH!” You cried out as Quaritch yanked your head back again.

“Eywa, won't save you!”

“Please! Please let me go, I'll give you anything you want.”

“No, I'll get what I want, peaches. Your husband, Jake.Sully.” He said with venom. “He won't leave his wife and baby to die will he?”

“If you hurt us they will kill you!” You snapped back.

Quaritch turned you to face him and placed a harsh slap across your cheek. You cried out as he raised his hand again, but a gunshot stopped the slap from landing again. The two of you looked to see Jake and Tonowari approaching, with a large group a metkayina warriors. You began tugging at your restraints, crying in relief seeing your two lovers again.

Jake used the scope of his gun to search for you. He quickly spotted you, and frowned seeing you jerk against the boat railing. “Mawey.” He whispered. “Mawey.” As if he was in your ear, you stopped tugging, and looked at him expectantly.

“He has her.”

Tonowari let out a loud yell, hissing and gripping his spear tight. “Let me see.” He reached out for the gun Jake had. He spotted you, seeing a blood trail stemming from your head, and the bruised cheek which was starting to swell. Tonowari slammed the gun back into Jake’s chest, hissing and snarling. “He must die!”

“Tonowari, this may be a trap we have to-”

“He will die.” He repeated. Jake noticed the darkness in Tonowari’s expression. He would have to move fast if he didn’t want Tonowari putting you in possible danger.

“Sully.” Quaritch snarled into the earpiece. “You for her. No funny business. We have you surrounded.”

Seven more boats began speeding towards Jake and the rest of the Metkayina, surrounding them. You looked, and saw one avatar, and about 4 humans on each boat. This should be light work for the two of them, right?

“Let's not waste any more time than we have to.” Quaritch taunted.

Jake and Tonowari sat in place, deliberating their options. Jake could sacrifice himself, if that meant you would come out safe, but there was no way you or Tonowari would allow that. Jake could attack the ships, but you were held at gunpoint, no way he would make it to you before the trigger was pulled.

Quaritch suddenly raised his hand and smacked you again, making sure you cried out loud enough for the two warriors to hear. Tonowari snapped his head towards Jake and began yelling. “Jake you have 5 seconds to make a decision or I swear to Eywa nobody is getting out of this alive!”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows, finally giving in to his partner's rage. “I'll go alone. Retreat to the reef.”

“Retreat?!”

“Re.Treat.” Jake said, slower, bowing his head slightly. This time, Tonowari caught the hint.

“Hyah!” He hooted out, the Metkayina warriors started turning around and disappearing into the water. Jake pulled his gun aside, and slowly began approaching the boat, seeing the damage on your face more clearly now.

“No. Jake.” You said breathlessly as he came to the edge of the boat He climbed on, coming face to face with Quaritch. “Jake.” You looked at him with watery eyes. Your breathing became unstable as you realized what was gonna happen next.

“No..No take me! Don’t you want him to suffer? Take me instead!”

Jake looked at you and hissed, shutting you up immediately.

Quartich paid no attention to your begging, but took out another restraining strap. “Let her go.” Jake said, slapping one end of the restraint on his wrist. Quaritch seemed satisfied, finally taking out his knife and cutting one side of the restraint off. Jake winced, but managed to clasp the other restraint on his other wrist, resulting in you being cut free.

“Now that wasn’t so hard wasn’t it?”

You stood, looking between Jake and Quaritch. Jake nodded towards the skimwing, telling you to scram, with his eyes. You shook your head, refusing to leave him. Jake kept averting his eyes to the skimwing, but you being stubborn as you were didn’t catch on. You slowly began backing up to the edge of the boat, hitting the railing.

Suddenly Jake swung, hitting Quaritch in the jaw.

Everything happened so fast.

Guns began blazing. Metkayina warriors shot out the water piercing humans with their spears. Jake jumped onto the boat railing, into the water; and Tonowari shot out the water and grabbed you, pulling you right back into the ocean with him.

This happened all at the same time.

You held on to Tonowari tightly as the current in the water almost managed to throw you off the side of his skimwing. The two of you began to move upward again, breaking the water barrier. You watched as Tonowari yelled with pure rage, lifting his spear and impaling an avatar with one swift movement. The two of you dove back into the sea, the water current pushing the half dead avatar further on Tonowari’s spear.

The skimwing slowed down, ultimately rising and stopping on the ocean bed. The boats that now surrounded you were on fire, sinking, with arrow-struck corpses piled on top. The avatar stuck on Tonowaris spear began gasping, spitting up blood and looking at the two of you with pure fear in his eyes.

Tonowari tilted his head, watching the avatar convulse on the spear. “Tonowari?” You called out, but he was gone, his eyes seemed soulless. You held onto the side of the skimwing, floating in the water, watching Tonowari slowly push out his spear and angle it towards the mouth of his skimwing. “T-”

In an instant, the skimwing twisted its head and opened its mouth, chomping down, and completely decapitating the avatar. You watched the corpse of the avatar slide off of the spear, and into the water.

Tonowari had never, never shown this side of himself before. You didn't even think he was capable of doing something like this. You discreetly wrapped your hand around, grabbing his braid. You wanted to know how angry he was, to feel his rage. Maybe even to have him feel your fear, so he can snap out of this. You connected your braid to his, and a jolt of heat ran though your body.

You gasped, feeling the intensity of his rage. It mixed with the adrenaline running through your body, becoming too much, before you fell unconscious.

---

Eyes fluttering open, you saw Tonowari, softly dabbing a rag all over your face. You looked down and saw your legs and torso were wrapped in large, damp leaves. Your eyes trailed to the side, where your braid was connected to Tonowari’s. His face was molded in a deep frown, and only now did you notice the underlying feeling of sadness.

“Wari.” You reached for his hand. “Why-”

“I needed to feel your pain.” He curtly said, almost embarrassed.

“You didn’t have to-”

“I did!” He hissed. “I should have protected you. The baby.”

You gasped, forgetting that with tsaheylu, he felt everything. Jake entered the pod with more medical supplies, sighing in relief once he saw you awake and alert. “Thank Eywa. Y/n…” He scrambled to sit next to you, taking your other hand. The three of you sat in silence. Uncomfortable silence.

“I was gonna tell you guys.” You broke the silence. “I was gonna make a nice dinner and present you with the beads I made. But he pinned me down and knocked me out.” Tears began to slip from your eyes. “I didn’t mean to cause all of this.”

“Hey, this is my fault, I should've known Quaritch would come back.” Jake sighed.

“I'm sorry you had to find out from him.” You said sourly, placing your hand on your stomach.

“I knew before he got you.” Tonowari admitted. nodded, confirming he knew as well. “How did-”

“When we cuddled that one night, and did tsaheylu, I felt something different. Like a tickle in the stomach.” He explained. “But I kept…bonding with you after you fell asleep, just out of curiosity.” Tonowari finally began smiling, tears welling in his eyes. “Then I felt it. I felt our child.”

You smiled and squeezed their hands. The two exchanged a look, and you felt the room fill with tension again.

“We killed Quaritch.” Jake blurted.

You widened your eyes and looked at Tonowari. He shamefully looked away

“He was too big of a threat, we made sure that if he did manage to survive us, he would drown in the deepest part of the sea.” Jake said.

“Ma Wari, Jake. Why are you sad?”

Their expressions changed, looking at each other confused. “You saved my life, you saved the reef. Why are you upset?”

“I scared you, Y/n.” Tonowari said sternly. “I saw you pass out- I felt your fear…I didn't want you to forever remember me in that way. I don’t want my Tsahik to be afraid of me.”

You scoffed, and ran your hand down your face. “Ma Wari. I was afraid your rage would consume you. I know you would never hurt me. Knowing you would…kill for me makes me feel…”

Tonowari searched your eyes as you hummed trying to find the perfect way to say

“Loved.”

#tonowari x reader #jake sully x reader #Jake Sully #tonowari #avatar2 #atwow #avatar fanfiction #avatar way of water #avatar the way of water #persefolli #persefolliwrites

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sturnsbaebackup · 6 months

Note

can you write something about how the fans have started speculating something between you and chris??

RUMORS FLY - CHRIS STURNIOLO

summary: you and chris have been talking, and the fans are starting to notice.

warnings: none!

as nick and matt argue about god knows what into their microphones, chris stares down at his phone with a small smile. “chris what’s your opinion on this?” nick asks, but it appears chris hasn’t heard him.

“chris, get off of your fucking phone. we’re on the podcast! who are you even texting that’s so important right now?” matt groans. quickly after being called out chris puts his phone away. he’s very clearly flustered, and he says, “i was just um— texting nate!”

“texting nate? with that big of a smile on your face? i didn’t know nate was so funny… but whatever can you please just get off of your phone and help us settle this debate,” matt says, glaring at chris with a wondering eye. not even his brothers knew about you and chris, but they were bound to find out soon enough.

chris feels his phone buzz on his lap, and he waits until he has a chance to answer it. he doesn’t want to tell you that he’s recording because he doesn’t want to stop talking to you, so he tried to multitask, but clearly he’s not very good at it.

nick suddenly gets up and walks over to chris, snatching his phone from his hands. as he does so, he see’s your contact name and the photo of you and chris cuddling at the top of the screen. “oh my god that’s—“ he blurts out, but immediately stops himself. “—enough! i’m taking your phone until the end of the episode” nick says, immediately catching himself before he reveals you and chris’ secret.

chris’ cheeks turn bright pink, and his heart rate is through the roof. he knows he’ll be grilled with questions once they’re done recording, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready for that yet. eventually the pod is over, and immediately nick hands chris his phone with a smirk.

“have fun texting y/n!” nick shouts as chris begins walking downstairs to his room. a loud gasp can be heard from matt, and chris can feel his cheeks burning up. he scurries into his room and replies to your texts, and immediately opens tiktok to rewatch the tiktok you guys had made a couple days ago. he scrolls through the endless comments, and begins to notice a reoccurring pattern.

“are they dating?!”

“oh i ship this”

“i think they’re dating! i mean, y/n is wearing his brand…”

and so forth. he bites his cheeks to hold his smile in, but ultimately fails when he sees all of the support even when you guys haven’t gone public. as he scrolls through his phone, a gentle knock can be heard on his door.

“come in nick!” he exclaims, not even looking up from his phone. he knows it’s nick because matt has a tendency to just walk in, or bang on the door. one or the other.

“can i ask you something?” nick asks, sitting in the end of chris’ bed.

“yeah, anything,” chris says, putting his phone down and fixing his posture.

“why didn’t you tell me and matt?”

“um— well we aren’t really telling anyone. i mean we’re not dating yet, but—“ he pause, “actually i don’t really know, honestly. i guess i’m just nervous that if i start telling people things will go south,” he shrugs.

“are you planning to ask her out soon?”

“yeah, i am actually. i was gonna do it this weekend, and make it a big surprise for the fans but now i don’t know. the fans are already speculating things, so i feel like i should just scratch the whole big idea i had and ask her the next time we hang out.”

“oh! that was also one of my questions! how the hell have you been hanging out with y/n and both me and matt didn’t know about it?! we live together and i still didn’t know!”

chris chuckles, “there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me nick. and it’s gonna stay that way, so if you could stop asking me a million questions that would be great,” he sarcastically grins, and nick just rolls his eyes. nick closes the door behind him, and chris immediately goes back to texting you.

—

the podcast episode was posted a few days ago, and immediately the fans have been questioning who chris was texting. there have been many many guesses, but most have been you. chris feels like it’s his fault, and the last thing he wants is for you to feel like you’re being led on, so there’s only one thing to do.

“y/n, i have a question,” chris says nervously, looking down at you as your head rests on his arm.

“what is it?” you ask, knowing exactly what it is. or hoping, at least.

“well, obviously i like you. a lot. and i was just wondering if you wanted to make this official? will you be my girlfriend?”

“of course i will chris, is that even a question?” you giggle, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of chris’ shoulders. he smiles at you and gently places his hands on your cheeks, pulling your faces towards his. your lips melt together, and your hands find their way to the back of his neck.

you both end up falling asleep in chris’ bed, and while you both nap, you’re unaware that nick and matt both arrive back home. they enter chris’ room after calling his name a few times with no response, only to see you both asleep. of course, them being the immature boys they are, take your guys’ picture. unfortunately, you learn about this the hard way when you see the photo in their photo dump a few days later. you gasp and immediately check the comments, expecting tons of hate comments.

“i knew it was y/n! they’re so cute!”

“AWWW”

“cutest couple ever”

you immediately text chris, and you both share a big grin over the situation. although you never would have expected your situation with chris to have gotten semi-exposed, you were just glad everyone was so supportive.

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine

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misscinnamonroll16 · 13 days

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Brozone headcanons

Clay is the type of brother to not believe what any of the others tell him. Whether they're lying to him or not, he don't believe them

John Dory can get his brothers to fall asleep in minutes. He's got all the tricks that knock them out. They worked when they were kids and still work now that they're adults.

Whoever ends up with John will get a wonderful lil house husband. He can cook, clean, bake, sew, and take care of children. Basically a house husband (or pod in this case)

John definitely dated Delta Dawn. They broke up bc they were too similar and too different. This was shortly after the band broke up and before Delta became queen. They were both young and adventurous. They wanted to travel the world together but Delta had responsibilities that she couldn't leave.

Floyd had ONE girlfriend. When he got on his own, Floyd told people he was bisexual bc he knew he wasn't straight but he thought he liked girls. He and that girl broke up on good terms bc she understood when he told her he's gay.

Floyd is scared of clowns

Bruce probably traumatized the little brothers more than John Dory did. He was the one that would force them to go into a haunted house, purposely jump out with a scary mask on type stuff

Drinks of choice: JD prefers whiskey, Bruce likes margaritas and brandy (obviously), Clay doesn't drink often, he likes white wine while he reads, Floyd likes SHOTS SHOTS and mixed drink (club/party drinks), branch doesn't drink much either but likes wine and occasionally mixed drinks.

Floyd is the holder of all the family secrets. He's really good at keeping them secret. Bruce and John are too but they're also known for telling embarrassing stories so none of the brothers want to tell them their secrets and risk it getting leaked

John is incredibly handy, he's very good at fixing most things. He can FIX things most of the time. He's no good at building.

All the boys are hopeless romantics

When one of the brothers (excluding Bruce in this case) get married after reuniting, they are all excitedly helping plan the wedding

Floyd can walk in heels

John Dory handles his machete very well. Nothing gets cut that he doesn't want cut. He also flips it around like a butterfly knife

When JD and Spruce went out to those teenage parties, they had a silent rule of one of them had to stay sober to make sure the other didn't do anything stupid, was safe and they both got home in enough time to get some sleep before having to wake up for the day. Spruce made sure John didn't wander off while stoned and listened to him talk whatever came to his high mind. John Dory made sure Spruce didn't eat something he wasn't supposed to while stoned or do anything stupid while drunk. It was never discussed but they knew that one of them had to be responsible for the other

Despite the band getting back together, both John and Floyd have sole careers that take off. Floyd is more for the performing and shows, JD is more for releasing songs and disappearing for several months. Floyd is selling out shows, John is dropping a song on YouTube that blows up within the first ten minutes. Brozone fans eat it up

While on stage and interacting with fans, the boys do very different things. John Dory leans towards the crowd and the fans go wild, he's a bit taken back but blows them a kiss (cue someone fainting). Bruce still plays up the heartthrob card, showing off his body, a fan yells and calls him daddy. He whispers into his mic "I didn't give you permission to call me that." in a flirty tone, cue the deafening screams. Clay was always shocked a little bit when fans start screaming when he gets close to the end of the stage, he's talking into his mic like "you good? You need something?" which causes the fans to all scream something at him. Floyd is the most memeable, hes making faces and sitting on the edge of the stage. He didn't used to that but after V&V he gets tired pretty quick. So he often ends up laying on the stage, his leg hanging off, his mic by his head along with a bottle of water. Clay kicked him off once and nobody knows if it was on purpose or not. Branch is NOT used to the fans. They're screaming at him and he's backing away. He's also very memeable until he gets more used to it. He didn't perform as much as his brothers (by that i mean he only truly performed once)

Bruce teaches John Dory how to surf. After several hours he gets the hang of it, it's like skateboarding only rougher.

Bruce sometimes watches his boys and sees him and his bros. Theyre wrestling and he can practically see himself, Clay and Floyd on the floor of their Grandma's pod

Grandma Rosiepuff spanked JD and Bruce with a wooden spoon. By the time she stopped, Clay was old enough for him to be next, so he got lucky. The wooden spoon she used had a wooden chunk taken out of it from when she hit John once. They find it while going through her old stuff that Branch had. "Hey look it's the whooping spoon!" "The what?!" "The whooping spoon. The spoon grandma used to spank us." "What makes you say that?" "You see this chunk taken out, that's from my ass."

#trolls #brozone #trolls john dory #trolls floyd #trolls clay #trolls bruce #branch trolls #funny #trolls headcanon #trolls headcanons #trolls hcs #brozone hc #brozone headcanons #trolls band together #trolls 3

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iznsfw · 9 months

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Drunken

Loossemble's Son Hyeju x Male Reader Smut

19,012 words

Categories | cheating, longtimecrush!Hyeju, mutual feelings, drunk sex, daddy kink (and daddy issues), fingering, squirting, titfucking, anal, choking

Thank you for commissioning! Researched for the fic, ended up falling in love with Son Hyeju. Please give this a chance and read this for the story, too, and not only the smut. I indulged too much in this.

The relationship Hyeju and OC have is very much inspired by the one Cassy and Rob have in In the Woods by Tana French. Read it, please. Was amazing. The story was also written with someone I'm currently so in love with in mind, but we're not going to talk about that here.

And no, there's never enough daddy kink stories :P

“This is not fair,” the two of you say the very second you step into your shared dorm.

Two papers in two hands of two people that show two scores that aren’t up to par for the two’s standards. You and Hyeju were always meant to be a dynamic duo: peas in a pod in every way possible, and that includes academic success and failure. It’s like there’s a kind of telepathic force between you that sends the other down with you, too. It’s too late to try and cut the connection when you’ve known Hyeju all your life, a wish that’s beyond reality for plenty of the boys at Idalso.

The dorm is clean. Mostly. You’ve done your best to tidy up the pile of clothes at the end of Hyeju’s bunk bed and she’s done the same for the relatively empty bags of chips you haven’t stopped the habit of laying around, but there’s still the telltale signs that if Hyeju isn’t organized, you aren’t either. Printed drafts of your thesis lay crumpled on the floor. Her posters are minutes away from falling off the poorly painted walls. The air-conditioner doesn’t work as well as it did in your freshman year when your rowdiness outdoors—knocking into each other, trying to race to the door and ending up messing up the other’s clothes that were ironed in a rush—isn’t as compensating.

Today, the rowdiness is lost. It gets translated into rough groans that follow you on the way to the dorms.

That’s when you realize it.

You and Hyeju look at each other. Both of your pairs of eyes widen.

“Miss Ha failed your test?” she asks, normally bored pupils widening in disbelief.

“Miss Ha failed my test.”

“No erasure rule?”

“No erasure rule.”

“Oh my god.”

Ball up the paper and shoot it in the air. It adds to the numerous pieces of parchment on the floor. You kick the rest of them in the air while your roommate slumps on her bed and groans.

“Fuck this,” you say, hands on your head. There comes the urge to tear all your hair out and leave it at that damned professor’s door, blood and all, to make her at least feel a miniscule bit of remorse for failing you. You didn’t deserve that. You studied and studied and she still had to implement that stupid rule.

Hyeju catches a wrinkled and crumpled paper globe. Her sui generis lips release a soft sigh. “At least we have thesis confetti,” she says sullenly.

“I’m dropping out,” you declare. You’re surprised at how serious you sound. Normally you’d say it just to get a laugh out of yourself, but now you’re actually considering doing it.

“If you drop out, I’m dropping out, too,” she answers, looking at you spitefully. “And then who’s going to take care of Daniel?”

Think of Daniel. He isn’t your roommate but he’s gotten close with you and Hyeju the past few years. “His inheritance is what’s gonna take care of him. Did you forget he’s rich as shit?”

“Oh, right. How could I forget about him?”

You start picking up the papers of your drafts faster and knocking them harder into the wall. Why are you doing that? Nope, don’t have an answer to that. There’s a fiery rage inside you that Hyeju’s latest sentence is the arsonist of.

“The fuck are you doing?” she asks in amusement. There’s a hint of disgust on her face. “Calm down. What’re you, my dad or something?”

“S-sorry.” You know the whole deal she has with her dad. You have to stop—thus, drop the balls of papyrus from your hand. “It was just… I don’t know why I did that.”

Maybe you do. Can’t be about the test though it’s why you started throwing a thesis tantrum.

“Chill out, dude.” She pats your shoulder and gives you a pouty look. “If you want to play strict dad with me: no, I don’t like Daniel. If I did, I would have sat on his lap and said,” she assumes a high voice and flutters her eyelashes at you, leaning on your side, “‘Let me help you with that, darling. I’ll do the dishes, too! Or maybe you want to put a baby in me while I squeeze the soap on your di—’”

“Stoooop!”

Throw a pillow at her. She dodges it and sticks her tongue out at you. Oh yeah. How could you forget that she plays dodgeball with the friend who’s taken up the topic of your conversation?

Oh god, shouldn’t have reminded yourself that Hyeju and your other friend hang out. You’re feeling weird again.

“Earth to daddy, Earth to daddy,” she says, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Li’l shit, what’s gotten into you?”

You’re feeling something again. It creeps into your heart and tugs at its strings, just like how your roommate loves to tie knots in yours and watch you struggle around trying to walk with them. That’s how it felt when she called you that. It’s not the first time she took on a roleplaying banter with you yet that specific title has you hot.

You need to take a walk. Take a walk to somewhere that doesn’t have you in a place where you could easily pin Son fucking Hyeju to the wall and kiss her till the heat subsides.

Walking is your only exercise. You care not for the gyms and weights—why pressure yourself with those when you could just go for a simple walk? An hour is already sufficient enough to burn the breakfast. Only downside is that you get quite hungry afterwards, and though you don’t care for counting calories either, you’re pretty sure the food you have after your strolls is more than the amount you burned.

Actually, you could think of another downside: Hyeju doesn’t join you. She’s a homebody. A couch potato. A living pillow. She prefers to lounge at the dorm and play games instead of going out. She rarely comes along, which is why you’re guaranteed a few hours of isolation.

When you take into consideration that it isn’t isolation if tentative feelings accompany you, you’re partly glad Hyeju didn’t come along.

“Hey, is that you?”

You smile. There he is. You always pass by the apartments this time, and the old man who owns it is one of the few people you’re fond of. Being friends with a landlord wasn’t on your college bingo card, but you’re glad it happened. He’s kind, has white hair that almost matches the color of the spaces he owns, and a mouth that can simultaneously be like that of a sailor’s and a doting grandfather.

“Hi, mister Kim.”

“Hi there yourself,” he chirps. His smile is bright. Can’t say the same about the flickering bulb back in your dorm. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

Red colors your cheeks. “Hyeju’s not my girlfriend.”

“Never said she was.” He winks.

The explosion of scarlet first starts at your ears. He got you. But it isn’t exactly you to blame—everyone likes to push you and your girl best friend together. The old man knows what he’s doing. He just likes to toy around with you.

“Mister Kim, don’t be like that,” you say. Scratch the back of your neck.

“I’ll be however the hell I want,” he replies, crossing his arms t in a friendly stance. “You two’re always glued to each other.”

“We’re just friends, sir.”

“Just friends my ass. Whenever that girl visits me, she’s always talking about you. It’s like you’re the only thing on her mind.”

That revelation was so out of nowhere, yet you welcome it. You like knowing that Hyeju, the girl you adore, adores you just as much. It’s the mutual feeling of fondness that keeps you breathing.

“T-that doesn’t mean anything,” you say humbly. You’re somewhat right—just because Hyeju hides the truth that she drones on about you doesn’t mean she has a crush on you. You’ve seen and met her exes, and even back then they’re miles more charming than you.

“Wanna bet?”

“I’m broke—”

“No, no. Not in that way.” He shakes his head. “If you and Hyeju actually end up together, I’m letting you live in one of my apartments for free.”

“Mister Kim—”

“Think about it for your old man, will you?”

With that, he shows you a knowing smile and turns his back. Nothing more is said.

Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.

Anyone and everyone says the opposite. They treat you and her like famed characters on a popular teen show, pairing you up with each other and tearing off all hesitancy about thinking that they might be going too far.

But now you’re here to make a stand against those falsehoods: contrary to popular belief, Son Hyeju isn’t the love of your life, and although you’ve been friends for so long people’d expect you walked into kindergarten class with your hand in hers, it’s completely platonic between the two of you.

There are no feelings. No speck of a disgusting yearning in your hearts despite the late night stroll you had to take to stop your wistful thoughts. No sir. Hyeju doesn’t love you that way, and neither do you. It’s simple.

Doesn’t seem that simple when you wake up in the dorm with what’s supposed to be a groan that folds itself back down your throat when you see her curled up in the other bed, blankets splayed and curled around her. No makeup on, except for lip balm she smears around her triangle-shaped mouth when they get chapped. No care for how she looks in the air (doesn’t matter when that’s the way you like it, the way she likes it). She lies there with slumber that could only be induced by an unmerciful college.

You’re glad you have her while you’re battered by the same cause of her sleep.

You try to be silent but her eyes open anyway. Her eyes are squinted, and she kind of looks like an emoticon as she pers around. She doesn’t know when or where she is. Grin because neither do you sometimes, but now that you hold that knowledge, you share it with her.

“Earth to Hyeju, Earth to Hyeju.” Echo her words from last night and resound them back to her.

“Earth?” she groans. “Wake me up when Idalso sends me to Mars.”

Yeah, that’s the Hyeju you know. The Hyeju you love.

(Huh? Where did that come from?)

“I’ll go with you. Could use miss Jeong not trying to kill me.”

Hyeju runs a hand through her hair groggily and smiles sweetly. “Maybe she should come along and go through with killing you if you don’t stop ‘forgetting’ to pay me that five thousand.”

“Cute. I’ll pay you later, I promise.” Rise to sling the blinds up, letting light five-thirty a.m. sun spill through the squares. “Catch some breakfast at McDonald’s before class?” you offer. She’s your usual companion in the morning—you’d split the bill (because “you’re broke, and I’m broke,” she said, “it’s only fair we try to stop being poor together”) and have a nice opening meal of egg and chicken nuggets.

“Sweetie, it’s Saturday today,” she reminds you. “Don’t you remember?” She looks up from her phone and smiles at you condescendingly, as if she knew how that friendly nickname causes your system to shut down.

You try not to show it. Try not to make it obvious that you turned your head to hide the fact that you were flustered. The fact that despite being only friends with her your chest still tightens at her casual pet names for you, like what she called you last night as well. It’s what friends do: joke with each other, call them unflattering names one second then sweet ones the next. The dorm has enough fans to keep the air circulated, and the sweat you broke last night is gone. So if that’s that, why do you feel so warm right now?

You wonder if Hyeju also feels the same heat in her stomach when you say, “Grandpa can’t remember things well anymore, darling. You’ve got to cut him some slack.”

“Wow, okay. That’s one way to put it, I guess.”

It’s lucky that it’s still dark enough for your red ears to be invisible. You hate it when you mess up your laid-back persona in front of Hyeju, the one you put up whenever you engage in these playful arguments. “Look,” you say, “do you want to get McDonald’s or not?”

“Can’t. Won’t. Shan’t. Too lazy.”

Your heart sinks. “Fine, I’ll just go to a café then. Still have that thesis to do.”

Hyeju lays back into the bed and shuts her eyes. She’s learned that when there’s a chance to sleep, she should take it. To you, it doesn’t look like she’ll let go of this one, even if rejecting it means eating together with you.

You put on a coat and some shoes, then turn away. Fine, let her be like that. What did you even expect? You can’t be her only priority in life. Sleep, of course, and rest should come first, especially if you’re a college student. You have to brush the hurt creeping in your heart and do your own thing, just like you’d let her do hers.

Don’t catch her eyes opening and lingering on you. Your back is turned and therefore doesn’t let you see it. But if only you did, you wouldn’t have been doubtful about your future concerns, all related to her.

This is a different story though. This isn’t a love story—if anything, it’s how a love story ends.

Just so it’s clear for everyone who comes across this story of yours: you don’t love Son Hyeju.

Yes, it bears repeating. Sometimes you need to say it again to convince yourself. Convince yourself that you’re not constantly in lectures wishing that it was her beside you instead of your groupmate. Convince yourself that your soul doesn’t shatter in pieces when she refuses to join you in anything.

Maybe you just need someone to talk it out with. Yes, that’s right. The whimsical yearning in your heart isn’t for Hyeju. You swear on it.

Oh, but you’ve never been very good at that.

“What’s going on? I came as quick as I could,” says Daniel. Yeah, that’s his name. It’s a common name that sounds foreign and unique, especially since he’s a transfer student who came from the U.S.. He has pale skin and brown eyes that are as kind as he is. You like him—he’s the only one you bother bearing besides Hyeju.

But this isn’t about her. You need to let go of her. What? “Let go of her”? Why do you think about her like you two were actually a thing?

“Nothing. Just… feelings.”

“Something happened?” He sits down and looks around confusedly. “Wait, where’s Hyeju?”

“That’s the thing,” you say as you smile tightly. “She’s what happened.”

Daniel’s not stupid. And even if we say that he was, he’s been your friend for two years. It’s short in comparison to your time with Hyeju, you know, but it remains impressive. You don’t have that many friends besides them. That, of course, eventually led to Hyeju and Daniel becoming friends with each other. That’s the reason for him catching your drift—he knows you like the back of his hand.

You order the third cheapest option on the list: an iced latte. Your friend opts for a croissant and some tea, something that reminds you that he isn’t actually from Korea. You often forget that when his Korean is more fluent than a native’s and he gels with other people so quickly. He’s an easy-going guy with everything flowing well for him.

“Let me guess: she did something?” he asks. Alright, close enough. His fingers drum a steady rhythm on the table while yours do so on your laptop keyboard.

“Yeah.” Shake your head immediately and contradictingly. What are you saying? “No. Yeah, probably. But I think it’s my fault.”

No, it isn’t a mere probability of it being your fault. It is your fault. Why are you placing expectations on Hyeju to show up for you? It isn’t on her that you get hurt when she doesn’t have the time or willpower to come along with you. So, why are you even bothering to talk about this? You should let this matter slide. Brush it under the carpet. Rewrite the news headlines. Whatever.

“Ah, couple’s quarrels,” Daniel says teasingly. He thanks the waiter for his croissant then takes a healthy bite into it. “Out of the honeymoon phase already?”

Should you be delighted that people think that she’s yours and you’re hers? You’re split between these two emotions—choose to be frustrated instead.

“Why does everybody think that we’re a couple?”

“Well.” Your friend twirls his teaspoon into the dainty cup. Drill your eyes on it. The café is simple and affordable to eat from, but the furniture and aesthetic make you think of it as a fancier place to eat it. “You’re always together.”

“That’s all?”

“Let me finish. When some guy has the balls to ask her out, she says she has a boyfriend. She shows him your profile and number. She goes, ‘My boyfriend wouldn’t be too happy about that.’”

The latte somehow doesn’t finish its journey through the straw. “She does?”

You’re split between two thoughts to go by again. You should be happy that your friend, a friend who’s a girl moreover (never confuse a friend who’s a girl with a girlfriend—ever), feels safe enough with you to refer to you as someone who’d protect her, whether from creeps or the aggressive dogs that patrol your college grounds. It takes real trust to call a guy who’s a friend (again, avoid the confusion) your boyfriend when the time requires it. This means she trusts you to come to her if she needs saving from an odd guy or an escape out of situations.

But at the same time, you wonder if that’s what you really are to her, what you’ll only ever be to her: a fake boyfriend. The guy friend who doesn’t mind being called a boyfriend because he knows his low place in her heart. Does Hyeju even look at you as someone who’s not just an acquaintance?

“Yeah,” Daniel says matter-of-factly. “She really likes having you around.”

You don’t need to think about it when you reply, softly: “I do, too.”

The two of you sit in silence you don’t know the source of. Daniel stops eating suddenly. Similarly, all the appetite is lost and you have to put your plastic cup of latte down before you throw it at the wall and ruin the dining experience for everyone else. No, this is your problem. You should deal with it before dragging anyone into it.

“So, why did you call me? What is it about Hyeju?”

Ah, what are you thinking? Daniel shouldn’t even be here. Why did you even call him over? You did and now you don’t know why you suddenly want to throw the contents of your plastic cup into his face. If you give in, you’d be feeding into the delusion that he’s the one standing between you and Hyeju.

That only leads to the second question of the day:

Why do you suddenly hate Daniel? Daniel is a nice guy. He doesn’t even make a move on her or disrespect her.

You don’t like these feelings. It’s causing you to think all sorts of nonsense about everybody else, not excluding Daniel, who hasn’t done anything wrong.

“I…” Sigh. This is the second time you’re finding an escape route so that you could be alone with your feelings. “I have to think about it. I need some time alone.”

“Oh, sure. Sorry about that.”

Hate how more guilt washes over your heart. See here, he doesn’t even protest or say something that might even be right, like tell you how you called him to come over in the first place or how there isn’t a good reason why he should leave. He simply wraps his croissant with a plastic he asked for at the counter and leaves, tea and all.

Great. Now you’re alone, like you usually are and always will be. Attempt to use it as a pro and work on your thesis. Type it all down on a Word document. Wait patiently, as you learned to, as your old laptop stops for the suffering you’ve caused it with the extra storage taken up by assignments. Contact your groupmates. Remind them to do their jobs.

It’s all going so well. That’s when she pulls up to the cafe you’ve been writing at with her hands perched on the wooden surface of your table, with the smirk that doesn’t ever leave without making sure it’s her certified look featured on her lips.

No need to mention names when there's only one girl who could make your world stop spinning.

You can’t stop staring, and it’s not even because she turned up out of nowhere. You’re always in a state of shock when Hyeju is around.

She never allows her hair to be restrained in a tight tail, so there she is with those luscious black locks spilling all over her shoulders. How she manages to look so cool and be the very person everyone wishes to be while having those soft cheeks only the evillest of people wouldn’t pinch you don’t know. Son Hyeju is cool and cute at the same time, somehow balancing those everyday without effort.

But you don’t love her. Just to remind everyone once again. No matter what happens, you have no feelings for her. And that’s that.

"Hey," she says, putting her weight on one arm. Then she curves down her head to peer at your screen. "Whatchu doin'?"

Immediately slam your laptop shut and look at her with annoyed eyes. Oh, why do you even try? You could never despise her. You could pray to god all night and day for you to hate Hyeju, to hate her to the ends of the Earth just to banish these strange feelings, and he wouldn't give in. Crazier and crazier her antics shall get and you'd remain loyal to her.

And that's all because she's a good friend. That's everything there is to it.

Wait. Who are you convincing again?

"Oh, come on. Smile a little, pretty boy." Hyeju places a finger on one edge of your mouth then pulls it upwards. "There you go. Suh-miiile—"

Pretty boy. She called me a pretty boy.

"You p-plan on getting off the table or what?" you say.

People are staring at you and Hyeju but that isn't what's making you blush. What's gotten into you? You can't tell yourself it's because of her simply because it isn't because of her. Hyeju has as much effect on you as a cup of coffee.

(You thrive off caffeine, by the way, but that's not the point.)

"Sure. No. Uh… probably?" She looks up at the ceiling as if she's figuring something out, then clicks her tongue when she does. "Yep, nah."

Groan.

Secretly, confessed only in the deepest corners of your mind, you like people paying attention to you and Hyeju. It’s not much about the attention itself but the way it makes them think that the two of you must be really close. Like, really really close. The kind that makes those who want Hyeju rush to her only to be met in the face with a barrier: you. They can’t have her because you do.

Not in that way, of course, but it still means something. If she has you, nobody else could, and if you have her, more so.

"Son Hyeju,” you say, fighting back the smile on your face as she ruffles your hair, “I swear to god—"

"Oh, please," says Hyeju, leaning forward with narrowed eyes and a wicked smile, "spare me, oppa. Spare me the blasphemy—"

That's enough from her, you think. Your hands dive for her waist. Pull her down onto your lap. Your thighs soften the blow and also play the role of a launch pad as one kick sends Hyeju in the air. More chances to tickle her come along with it. Okay, that bit about the lap was wholly unintentional, and you'll swear to god again for that.

What isn't unintended though is the tickling you do on Hyeju's midriff and arms. It helps that she's so sensitive—soon she's laughing boisterously, struggling in your lap with her head upturned and triangle-shaped mouth letting out unkempt guffaws. She nearly kicks the two of you out of the café seat.

"Dude, you are such a loser, stop!" she laughs, still winding around like a screw on top of you. Laughs alternate between each syllable. "P-people are looking, fffucking quit—"

When that beautiful gummy smile breaks on her face, you don't want to. People can look as much as they like and you wouldn't give a damn. Tickling is Hyeju's punishment, and you'll do it to her anywhere to teach her a lesson.

"Ha, haha, I'm sorry, okay!"

"That's my girl."

You’re not hurt anymore. For a few delicious minutes, you’ll forget you were ever pondering if you like her or not.

Stop completely because you’re easy to convince like that All she needed was that one magic word. Place her on the chair beside you and fold her hands on her lap as if she were a misbehaving child.

"Now behave yourself."

Hyeju rolls her eyes. "And if I don't?" she challenges you.

You raise your fingers in a curled position and direct them threateningly centimeters away from her ticklish spots. She gives up. She can't find a punishment worse than that.

"Why are you here anyway? I thought you didn’t want to come," you say, taking the liberty to open your laptop again. The screen directs you to your assignment tab after you type in your password. Sigh; still five thousand words to go.

"I'm here because I've got nowhere else to be," she answers. She practices her own liberty, too, and sips shamelessly at your iced beverage.

Her eyes light up at the taste. "I got bored being alone in the dorm."

You think of her alone, and your heart immediately sinks. Maybe you should have stayed there. You’re her roommate—you’re there for her to have company. Sure, the roommates were paired up randomly, but it must lead to something now that you and Hyeju have met again. It was by pure chance that she reunited with you after years of being apart. There’s a string drawing you together, and you don’t know what it means.

You do know that the reunion with your childhood best friend and seeing how she’s grown made your heart flutter. You act all mean when you’re around her, which is confusing when you’ve missed her so much.

"And I needed somewhere else to finish this thesis before miss Wong realizes it was due three weeks ago." Glare pointedly at her. Here you go again. Told you so. "Somewhere that's not occupied by a brat."

It's true. Call it what you will: an insult, a pointless accusation, but what you said rings true even in your childhood best friend's defiant mind. She could be a handful often.

"I am not a brat," she says, offended. She knows the truth and chooses to deny it. Typical. You should have seen that coming when she’s the girl who lies about the extra dishes in the sink not being her fault and her turn with the laundry.

Sigh. Act as the lawyer; you’re studying to be one anyway. It’s best to practice. "Remember when you cut up the slogan on the mayo label then taped it on me? I had 'white creamy filling; taste me!' on my back for the whole day!"

"It was a big-ass sticker for a mayonnaise, okay? I couldn't stop myself." Hyeju admits this with hands raised in defeat. "But what about that time you shoved a Toblerone in my mouth while I was sleeping then took a photo of me?"

Raise your hands, too. You realize there's no way to weigh in the blame on a single person when you and Hyeju brought the brat out of each other. It's impossible to go by a day that isn't filled by at least one prank and joking quarrels.

Still, you find it fun. Hyeju's so easy to bond with, so easy to love.

Whoa, where did that suddenly get here? Like you said, you love Hyeju, but only as a friend.

So you do love her, in a way. Huh.

That realization settles in and suddenly you're rendered frozen at the table. Your hands that ought to be finishing your schoolwork are frozen in mid-air. You're staring at the screen like you were watching a gory movie instead of trying to tick off your to-do list.

"You okay?" she asks, one-of-a-kind lips sealed around the paper straw. "You kind of, like, went to another dimension for a bit."

How do you tell her you’re considering the fact that you might actually like her? You’ve known her for years. Something’s inevitably going to bloom inside you for her, right?

"Y-yeah. I'm good." Not. “And stop drinking my coffee.”

“You wouldn’t need it if you just did the thesis early. What’s so hard about it anyway?” Hyeju stands then bends over to glance at your laptop.

You don’t realize how short her dress is. It rides up to the centers of her thighs and you don’t know how to prevent anyone from seeing something forbidden without brushing down the hem of her dress. If you went down that road, you’d have to run your hand along her back and ass—you’d look like a pervert.

Idiot. Think of something. Something that isn’t how you’d love to see more when you're just like everyone and shouldn't be allowed more eye access to her body. Only you know how many times Hyeju’s body came up in your mind when you were alone. Paired up with that attractive face that held a permanent pout, it’s impossible not to think of anything else.

“Ugh! You are so dumb, you know that, oppa?” To your horror, Hyeju sits down neatly on your lap. She has her hands quickly frisking on your keyboard. “There’s a comma missing here, and a citation over here… oh, and a—”

“Save some for the rest of us!” a man about your age and height yells jokingly, cheering you on with a raise of his mug of hot coffee.

Both you and Hyeju look at him with confusion written all over your faces. Your words of surprise almost sync and match with the other for you realize your hands are on her hips, and Hyeju’s leaning back so comfortably in you that anyone would have thought it was another case of couple’s PDA. They’d be wrong though. She’s not your girlfriend. She can’t be your girlfriend.

So why is she so comfortable on top of you, as if she’s always been there? Why did your hands naturally rest on the beautiful slopes of her hips and pull her down the moment she stooped?

The guy’s grandmother smiles adoringly. “Young love,” she says with a dreamy tinge to her aged voice. "What wouldn't I give to experience that again."

You and Hyeju meet each other’s gazes and suddenly you’re unattached to each other. She guiltily settles on her chair and you take your hands off her. That was wrong. Why were the two of you so comfortable with being so touchy? Best friends don’t do that. At least, not best friends of the opposite sex.

“I should go,” she stammers, standing up. “Call me i-if you need help, oppa.”

Just like that, she’s gone. Where did she go? Why did you lose her so fast?

Hyeju’s always called you oppa one way or another, but that moment left a particular jar in your heart. It shards the depths of the core and renders you speechless. You didn’t know that the person you’d love to hear that title the most from is your best friend. She’s supposed to call you that when she’s younger, but even if she weren’t, you’d still love to hear her call you that.

There’s a sense of fulfillment in being able to be Hyeju’s oppa. The one she always relies on. The one she sticks to through whatever happens. That’s why now that she’s told you to call her if you need help makes you ache. It’s the things that are seemingly so simple as that that send more yearning inside you.

The question is: what exactly are you yearning for? Who are you yearning for?

You think you know the answer. It’d take guts to admit it, to finally come clean. But what’s there to come clean about? You don’t love Hyeju.

A ding from your phone just now. You’re nearly finished with the thesis, and it’s lucky that way since it’s from Hyeju. God knows she has ways of distracting you. Her clean moves at the dance she led and her chill yet stern voice when she commands a rowdy classroom steer you away from what you should be doing, like get away from her. Avoid her at all costs. Never tell her what you’re feeling because it’ll only end up badly for everyone involved. You don’t want to hurt Hyeju, and still you remain hopeful to not get yourself hurt, too.

It takes several seconds for courage to tie you down and pick up the phone. It’s a series of texts from her.

HyejU_U: hey

Sooooooooo

I’m sorry for what happened earlier.

I didn’t really think and thought that you'd be fine with it

cause yknow

You pulled me down

and

We’re friends.

right?

Yeah, we’re friends, you think bitterly. And no matter how touchy you get, Son Hyeju, it’s all we’ll ever be to you.

HyejU_U: can we just move forward from it? If you want to ofc

Do you? Graduation is near and it’s still taken plenty of years of your life to get over Hyeju. Do you go forward and start on a new slate with her, or dwell in places you shouldn’t be?

Your fingers linger on the keyboard, then—

You: Sure.

Sorry, too

if i like

Made you feel uncomfortable

Wasnt my intention, i promise

HyejU_U: oh you didnt make me feel uncomfy at all.

So don’t worry <3

What a relief.

HyejU_U: i should be the one apologizing anyway

I thought it would be nice to be on you since ur arms feel good around me

Cock a brow. A giddy smile itches at the ends of your lips. Stifle it you will, though she can’t see you through her screen.

HyejU_U: sorry again

i just wanted to see if what i thought was true

Anyways.

yeah, sorry.

You: so we’re good?

HyejU_U: we have a deal, dickface

;)

See, this is the thing you’re afraid to lose with Hyeju: the carefreeness of your little friendly touches and hugs, insults that take it just far enough, everything. If you told her how you felt (keep in mind that you might not actually like her romantically; you’re just thinking that you might), you’d lose your relationship with her—the one that formed before the two of you even knew what romance was. The one that’s kept the reunion as natural as could be without the need for awkwardness.

You’re so glad to have her back. As a student you’ve nearly cried knowing you passed a semester and worked night and day to finish a difficult assignment—none of those feelings can match the one of relief you felt when Hyeju told you everything was good on both ends.

But for now, you’ve gotta try to put a dent into this thesis. You’re almost done, you swear. You’ve just been stalling—not intentionally. You swear on that, too. Your whole afternoon’s been swamped up in thoughts about her plus the thoughts about if you’re too perverted a man to be with her. There are a lot of questions left by you immediately responding to Hyeju choosing to sit on your lap. A lot of which are left unanswered.

Priorities. Sigh a little; there’s still work to be done, yet worrying about your best friend is on top of the list. You really should find a hobby when you’re already dragging your teammates behind. Plus, there’s the capstone to worry about that you haven’t prepared for even in the most miniscule bit. So there really shouldn’t be an explanation for why thinking about what she thinks of you is your number one priority. Why, you have plenty of other things to worry about.

You just can’t get her off your mind. These days it’s impossible to.

Abstain anyway, the best you can, from thinking about her and finally complete the thesis. It’s lengthy, well-edited, and has the perfect format to finally make you a lawyer. Attorney doesn’t sound too bad when it’s added to the front of your name.

You should celebrate, actually. The moment you think of it, Daniel suddenly messages you. He’s saying something about it being a Saturday, so you should go to the bar with him. You’re a social drinker, anyway. You could go there without going overboard. Addictions and vices form in these years of fresh adulthood, but you’ve never found yourself wound up in something.

So you do. They ask for your IDs and let you in after a short study of the cards. The guard gives you a lengthy lecture about not being alcoholics as young as you are, but welcomes you anyway.

If we’re talking about getting yourself wound up in someone, though…

“Dude,” Daniel says. He motions his glass to someone coming from the door. “Hyeju.”

You already know he’s rich, but what teacher did he pay to study him into mind-reading? “I wasn’t thinking about her,” you tell him defensively.

“No, I mean, she’s here.” He stares at said woman walking over to the bar with swaying hips. “How the fuck did she get here?”

Hyeju’s here? Swallow. Quick. What do you say? Where exactly in the bar is she right now? Why is she here? When did she get here? Why the fuck are you talking like a news reporter?

“Hullo, boys.” She stops your train of thought and makes sure to dedicate all of them to her with her hands set on the table and a pretty crop top attached to the curves on her perfect body. You wonder where she got that dress. If she thrifted it, it isn’t obvious—her body does good work in making it look like couture.

“Hi, Hyeju.” Daniel acknowledges her with a nod. He’s a friend of yours and hers, just to remind everyone. He wouldn’t take another step with Hyeju, but you still have yourself staring daggers into his stubbled beard that lines his face and how he takes life as he would a game. There’s a reason why you’re the least tipsy among the two of you. He likes a challenge.

“Hi,” you say meekly. Hope your voice doesn’t sound twisted when your stomach suddenly is. Oh, and it’s not because of Hyeju. It’s the alcohol, pinky promise with a finger heart after. Alcohol’s never made your stomach turn this way though.

Hyeju regards the shotglasses. “You went drinking without me?”

“What does it look like?” Daniel asks, giving her the finger. It’s just the usual friendly argument that doesn’t cross lines or anything. The ones that you and Hyeju have. Why do you feel like punching him in the face?

Luckily, she doesn’t have a fragile heart. “Cute. Keep it that way.” She rolls her eyes then turns to you. “Oh, and you. I thought you liked having me around.”

“I’m sorry.” Ask the bartender for another shot then hand it to her. “I guess we just thought you were busy with training.”

She’s training to become an idol. It’s been her dream since she was a kid, when you played in the slides and dropped from monkey bars. She’s always told you she was going to be big someday, and you never doubted that for a second. She even had a name she planned to use if she were to be a performer: Olivia Hye. You weren’t gonna lie, it had a nice ring to it. Not too bad for a name she made up after skimming through a baby name book from the bookstore.

“I dropped out,” she says simply, downing the shot like water.

“What?” you and Daniel ask together. Both of your voices sync with the shock, too. Neither of you could get why she did that. It’s been Hyeju’s dream to become an idol for so long. She couldn’t give that up just like that, but she did.

“Yep.” There’s pride in her voice. “The whole thing was a shithole. I already have Idalso to deal with. I’m not gonna put up with that, fuck no.”

Your heart aches for her dream. Idalso University really is blocking her from achieving it. She could be out there on the stage, maybe having found a better agency, singing and dancing her heart out. Instead, she has to choose one problem at the time and hence goes with college. She has her own parents to please, and because you have yours, you get it. You truly do.

As for Hyeju getting a problem off her mind, like that terrible agency, your spirits lift. You raise a glass and clink it with hers.

“To getting the hell out of this shithole,” you say; look at the girl you’ve lived for and loved with a smile, “and Son fucking Hyeju for doing it again.”

Your glasses meet. You’re somehow happy that it’s only two, yours and hers, that join. You can’t explain it for the life of you, but you like seeing Daniel become like a background character to it all. Just another extra in Hyeju’s show and yours. It’s cruel, especially when he’s been nothing but a good friend, but it is what it is.

“Tell you what,” Daniel says. “Let’s go to a noraebang tomorrow.”

She’s contemplative. “Isn’t the one near Idalso… like, expensive?”

“So what?” He shrugs. “You did it, Hyeju. You got out of that company thing. I’m done with my capstone and so is he with his thesis. I say we all have some fun. On me.”

Daniel has the privilege of not worrying about things being expensive or not. It’s the norm for him. You kind of want him to play Dorothy and put himself in your shoes, then make him go through what you did.

You know it isn’t fair and he’s just being kind. Still and all, your hatred rises.

“What now?” Daniel asks. “You guys in!”

“Of course!” Hyeju nods and claps her hands together. There’s a gummy smile on her face again. You’ve seen it on her many times, but you’ve also seen the sunset everyday—therefore, you’ll still be glad to catch a glimpse of it.

You guess since she’s in, you have to go, too. You say yes and that of course you’d love to go, and this time three glasses clink together prettily. Smiles are on each of your faces albeit yours is artificial.

"Could you act any less like a deadbeat dad?" Hyeju asks. She sits down on the stool beside you after Daniel leaves to get some air. Still feels like he's here when you feel like everyone's eyes are on you and her.

"I'm not doing anything." You say that because you aren't. You definitely aren't stirring a brew of jealousy inside you that poisons the maker, too. You're its creator yet the prophecy that was written tells that it'll turn against you, too. You’re Kronos, and it's an inevitable fate.

"Exactly. That's what deadbeat means." This matter-of-fact statement from her is followed by Hyeju stealing your shotglass out of your hand right before you drink it. "Seriously, dude. What's up with you?"

Oh, you don't know. Maybe her possibly being your crush? It's such an immature matter, but you haven't had a crush like this. The others were just sweet-faced and from afar. Those are the girls you dream of. To have a girl like Hyeju, the one you've known since forever, with a spunky personality but an opposing pretty face, the one who's been your ride-or-die—it's complicated.

What else could you say to her when the truth is something you'd rather she not hear?

"I'm fine, Hye."

"Are you? You look…" She thinks about it for a while as she studies your hair and poorly combined outfit choices. She slicks your blunt strands back and smiles teasingly. "...sleazy."

"Fuck y—"

"Shhh." She places a finger on your lips. The side of her thigh touches your lap. You're so close that any word you utter won't pass without hitting her. "It's okay. I like it."

You purse your lips. You didn't expect that. She's taken seats on your lap that were uninitiated by you and let you lift her in the air when you hug her. All that and her fingers in your hair are the most surprising.

"You're drunk," you say, although she’s only had a few shots.

Hyeju inches closer to you and holds your chin in place. "I'm sober as the next wolf, sweetie," she tells you. Her next words fail to show her hesitance. "And… and it just so happens that I really, really want to kiss you."

She's joking. She's playing around with your heart. You're not a virgin—you know what girls do. Hyeju doesn't strike you as the type to do that in spite of what’s going on, but you have to be careful. Your heart’s been bruised too many times already.

Careful isn't the word for it when you take the first step and lean in for a kiss. Maybe you're drunk yourself. Dizziness enchants your mind as Hyeju's dreamy lips perfectly pout to the shape of your mouth. Her eyes are closed. It's like she's in a restful dream.

You can’t believe you’re doing it. You’re kissing her. Passionately, too—there’s real determination in the way you hungrily lean forward to devour her lips.

The bar oohs and ahhs, then erupts into a crowd of applause. A few whistles come your way. You can feel Hyeju smile into your mouth.

Proclivities upon proclivities to keep her around you and only you couldn’t stop Monday from coming. You’ve only been to a noraebang once and that was with your family. It excites you to go to one again. However, you’d rather have only Hyeju to come, to be the exclusive member of the club that gets to hear her soft, pretty voice echo in the mic.

She’s really doing a number on you. Daniel’s your friend—sure, he might be out of touch with the local games and experiences, yet he’s still important to you. You can’t be mad at him over a girl who probably doesn’t even think the kiss at the bar was anything special. She hasn’t even talked about it with you and acts like it didn’t happen. Just another boy, just another day. That’s probably how you are to her.

Ouch. Way to go hurting yourself with your own made-up scenarios. As expected from you.

The three of you decide to cut classes. It’s not like you’re in high school anymore. Professors just don’t give a fuck, unless it’s miss Wong. She’s pretty and quiet at first. Then you have to wait to see her get angry—that’s when all hell breaks loose.

No hell on the loose today. Just three little demons from hell called Hyeju, Daniel and yourself down on the loose and down the road to the noraebang. Hyeju’s in a loose black jacket and a plain white tee. You somehow notice that more than Daniel who’s sporting a graphic shirt with swear words from every language printed on it. You don’t have much to say about your attire when it’s nothing special, not even compared to Hyeju, who’s wearing simple clothes like you.

“If a teacher sees us out here—” says Daniel nervously. He’s never rebelled before. The most he’s done is missing a class.

“No one will,” Hyeju promises him, opening the door of the place for the two of you though in your opinion it should be the other way around: you opening the door for her. What better way to show Hyeju that you could be a gentleman? Too late now. Plus, she doesn’t care much for that. That’s what keeps your excitement on a low burn. It takes more than opening a door and waiting around to impress Hyeju.

You sign your names at the front. Daniel picks a nice, wide room with a glass table perfect for chips and bottles. The bright screen already shows snippets of K-pop music videos, involving sweet-faced Korean girls waving at the camera and running along a beach. As boyish Hyeju is compared to other girls, you could definitely see her doing that for her passion of becoming an idol.

“What should we sing?” asks Hyeju, sitting down on the black plush seats comfortably. Her gummy smile is precious.

“Anything you want.” He slings an arm around her. His looped arm tugs her into a warm embrace. “Anything for the soon-to-be lawyer slash K-pop idol.”

Stiffen. Turn away and suddenly take good interest in the walls with a carved 3D effect. Much more interesting than whatever Daniel’s trying to pull on your best friend. Right, Hyeju’s your best friend. Nothing more. That kiss was a drunken mistake. You shouldn’t be getting angry. Besides, this noraebang was rented for you to have fun, not glower at Daniel doing nothing but be a good friend.

Hyeju laughs and leans into him gladly. “Stop, you’re gonna make me throw up!”

You feel out of place all of a sudden. Has she always been that affectionate with him? You thought that those touches and hugs were reserved for you only. Apparently not.

“Sing a song, Hye.” Your eyes don’t meet her gaze.

“They wanted me to debut with this song,” she says. The mic is shaky in her hand. “I—” She blushes. “I want to sing it for you.”

Sweetness infiltrates the air. It’s not of a scent or touch, but of hearing. It's Hyeju’s voice. It's smooth and soft as it passes through the empty atmosphere. No instrumental accompanies her voice, and you’re glad it’s that way. It allows you to marvel at Hyeju’s tone, quiet in spite of its sexiness.

And it takes that and several songs later, sung daringly by all of your trio, and jokes passed among friends that make you think about it. Really think about it. While Daniel and she sing their hearts out to the point of their voices cracking and laughs transforming into guffaws, you sit there and submerge yourself in thought.

You’ve seen Hyeju smile. It's pretty and sweet; her triangle-shaped mouth curls up into a half moon and it's everything you've ever wished for in life. No, fuck food. Fuck oxygen. All you need is her smile. It's cheesy as hell when you page through those types of quotes in those teenage romance books you probably shouldn't even be holding, but you swear that if Hyeju smiles for the rest of her life, it's enough for you to live. She just looks so pretty. Her resting bitch face, stone cold as the title of the expression suggests, is hot (yes, you're using that word), but when she chooses to smile—oh, you're as good as dead.

You don't like Son Hyeju though.

You’ve heard her sing in the noraebang room with her soft voice filling the vicinity. She doesn't sing much although she could. The day would come when she’d say "you know, I almost became an idol. I trained then dipped halfway,” and the pitched raspiness of her voice still would send you to heaven. It's a natural and beautiful thing, a trait she couldn't learn from the best vocal coach.

You don't like Son Hyeju though.

You’ve felt her hair when she leaned into your lap after laughing too much. "Stop, or I swear to god I will fuck your shit up," she told you, slapping your thigh after your terrible dad joke. You ran your fingers through her hair to calm her, but if anything it's an excuse to just touch her. You want to touch Hyeju, and not even in a sexual way. You just want your bodies closed up on each other with no awkwardness barriering the freedom to hold and be held.

And it’s not the kiss, but all these that make you stop your denial, and discover that you—

“—think I like Hye,” you whisper to Daniel when said girl leaves to get some beer. The flashing disco lights hanging from the ceiling can’t camouflage the red on your face.

Daniel laughs and puts down the mic. The bump on the crafted table sends a tinged pitch of feedback to your ears. “Everyone likes her. So?”

He’s right. Everyone likes Hyeju. Yeah, they like her through every name she’s taken up. She was the star of the school back in middle school when she went as Hyejoo, then the ice princess of high school as Olivia Hye, and finally… as herself now that she’s grown up with you, Son Hyeju. She’s become so many versions of herself and yet people still like the real her. You still know the real her.

“No,” is what you say, as you twiddle your fingers. You don’t know how to say this without causing an uproar. “I like Hyeju.”

He considers this for a moment, weighing in your words. “Like as in… like like?”

A nervous swallow. Is Daniel the right person to tell this ? “Like like,” you reply nevertheless.

Daniel locks his chin between his rough fingers and strokes it thoughtfully. His face is clouded with a feeling you can’t read. “Well, a lot of people do, too. And they wouldn’t blame you for it. She’s—” He looks down at his shoes then back at the noraebang screen. “She’s a pretty girl.”

The understatement of the century. Hyeju’s face was carved with such beauty—curved, pyramid lips; slanted eyes; a cold look that you, unlike people when asked about their first impression of her, weren’t scared of—and she’s just so… easy to love.

Yes, Son Hyeju is easy to love. Everyone loves her, but she can only ever reciprocate it in a different way to one man. Woman, perhaps? Anything goes, but you'd rather she gives it to you.

You're a selfish person, you admit that. More so when it comes to her.

"Let's get this party started!" she says. You don't intend to flinch yet you end up doing it anyway when she sits down next to you and hands you canned alcohol.

"There's only three of us, Hye," Daniel points out. The rounded metal springs up from the can and he gulps down a hefty amount of the spiked liquid.

"Three's a crowd. Especially when it's with you guys."

"So you're saying we're too much?" Match her sass with hidden bits of your own. You're only trying to make it seem like your heart doesn't beg to be held close to hers.

"Too much is just enough for me."

Hyeju drops both of her arms around you and your other friend and ruffles your hair. It's sweet. It should be. It’s exactly that which makes you fail to understand why your heart feels squeezed. Why is she also hugging Daniel in the same manner she hugs you?

The kiss at the bar means nothing. The kiss at the bar means nothing. You have to stop thinking that it means there's a ring on your finger already.

You rise from the sofa to purchase chips because you’re starving, but not for healthy food. You wouldn’t dream of eating a salad when there’s junk food in your general vicinity, and it just so happens that there’s a vending machine you’ve got your eye on at the counter. Soon, a rainbow of plastic bags fills your arms. What they contain would work well to repay your debt with Hyeju. Daniel can eat these without worrying about money. He’s been a good friend. He deserves chips after the evil you’ve thought about him.

"I bought chips—"

Daniel is pushing Hyeju to the end of the sofa and has his lips locked on hers. His hands are in her hair. Her eyes are shut. You can hear the sloppy sounds of kissing bouncing off the noraebang walls. The instrumental from the radio is the cherry on top of everything.

Does this kiss guarantee a ring?

"Wow," you say. Nod then laugh, as if doing it would make your situation better. “Wow.”

Hyeju turns her head and scrambles for broken dignity. It's too late. You've already seen it. Daniel doesn't even bother running after you when she bursts out of the room to chase you. You're immovable—each step is a promise to take you far away. You trust that promise to skewer you away from Son Hyeju, Son fucking Hyeju who led you on and played with your heart.

"Hey.” Her steps catch up with yours. Walk faster, but she only draws closer. You can’t escape from her now. “Hey!”

"What?" Turn to her, heavy breathing lining your shoulders. You stare into her small face and silently dare her to make an excuse.

To your surprise and her audacity, she does. "It's not what it looks like!" she says, swallowing. How could she be the one near tears when she's the one who kissed him? "Let me explain—"

"I know what I saw."

"Well, you don't see the bigger picture. He sm—"

"—smart? Funny? Rich?" Laugh and shake your head. Your laughs sound more and more genuine. You've gone a little sick in the head. "Yeah, I know. But hey, we're not supposed to be anything, right? Why am I mad? It's not like our kiss meant anything."

"Please, oppa. Listen to me."

"No, go sing together,” you say, then thrust the junk food you bought in her arms. “I’m sure you’re better off with him.”

Mean it. Turn away. Don't bother to look at her when you know she'll go crawling back to Daniel. He's totally her type. He's everything, you're nothing. He's smart, you're not. He loves her more, and you do—just not enough. Now you understand why they were so touchy and close in the room.

Anger is irrational when it was just a kiss. The two of you weren't official, either. If you weren't before, you sure as hell aren't now. It's just not meant to be.

She likes Daniel, not you. And even though you want to be, you aren't supposed to be angry at Hyeju. She was swept into a high school love triangle that happened a little later in her life, and ultimately chose the better guy. No need to drop names. The kiss was enough for you to know which man she chose.

Besides, you don't love Son Hyeju anyway. Isn't that what you've always told yourself? That's right. You don't love her.

Denial is a river flowing down your cheek.

The dorm becomes a cemetery of the living dead. You and Hyeju have not spoken to each other for three months. She stops waking you up for class, and you do the same. The place is notably cleaner after the two of you rely only on yourself to tidy up. Lost are the sarcasm, friendly touches, teasing arguments. It’s like the two of you never knew each other.

It’s through this that you discover that you have to be careful what you wish for. You always thought about Daniel putting himself in your place, and it happened. Ever since the kiss, Hyeju’s been chattier with him, and he pulls her close the way you used to, and she smiles at him like she used to at you, except that it’s wider now. They’re together. Officially together; you’ve seen their Instagram posts.

Moreover, she’s happier than ever, flourishing without you.

And you? You’re still stuck in that noraebang, replaying that fateful kiss over and over in your head. Each time you close your eyes you see Hyeju and Daniel in a passionate liplock. It’s the kiss that ruined what you had with Hyeju and has made your quality of life deteriorate. You didn’t know that Hyeju makes up almost every part of your day. Mornings are empty without your stroll with her. Post-exam nights aren’t as fun when she’s not there to bring drinks. Afternoons are lonely when she’s always out with Daniel.

You hate the fucker. He knew you liked Hyeju. You’ve told him about it right before the thing he did with her even happened, so it’s impossible that he’d forget. Besides, like he said, the two of you are always together. He surely would have picked up the signs. Unfortunately, he whisked her away just like that.

You dislike to feel like the scheming guy in coming-of-age films who doesn’t get the girl, but it’s the perfect portrayal of your emotions.

Wake up for class. She does, too. You have the decency to not gawk at how good she looks even in a casual tank top and plaid shorts, but she doesn’t even try to hide that she’s staring at you. Just not for the same reason, you assume. You’re just her boy best friend. With the way things are, you aren’t even a friend to her anymore.

You smear cheese onto a soft slice of bread. Still, her eyes are on you. From the corner of what takes up your vision, you could tell that she’s trying to figure out how to make this less awkward. You’d think that an eternity’s worth of effectively giving each other the cold shoulder would make her learn how to do it. She’s a smart girl anyway. She should have figured that out.

“You know… you can’t just keep ignoring me.”

Freeze—it’s the first time she’s spoken to you in a while. And you weren’t prepared for that. It’s like someone threw a punch in your stomach, but it’s also a breath of fresh air. How those two feelings could converge into each other you don’t know.

“So stop it, will you?” she continues. She swings her legs out of the duvet and places her hands snug on the edge of her bed. “Stop treating me like I’m a…”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m your fucking ex,” Hyeju snarls. The duvet crumples in her fist.

Scoff. Fold the bread slice tight onto the other squared end. Talk about a good morning. “Ex? We were never a thing, Hye… ju.”

Right, it isn’t like that anymore. You can’t call her Hye like the old times.

The hurt that registers on her face, still pretty in the midst of pain, comes by so fast it would take a magnifying glass to see it clearly. Now she’s the one scoffing. She recovers quickly from the stifled nickname so well that you never would have guessed you disarmed her. “That’s the thing. You’re right—we weren’t boyfriend-girlfriend. So why are you acting like I’m a ghost?”

“I wonder why,” you say. “Couldn’t be because you kissed me then decided to kiss another guy while I was away. Nope, totally out of the question.”

What happened? It seems like just yesterday the two of you were throwing insults and playfully quarreling with each other like it’s natural. This is a real disagreement here. This can’t be resolved with a smile or hug. You and Hyeju aren’t like that anymore. It’s a thing of the past.

Just like your friendship.

“If you’d just let me explain—”

“You know what? I don’t have time for this. Go with Daniel to class. Have a good life with him. Just call me if you get lost.”

Don’t even try to take a bite out of your cheese sandwich. You leave it on the table. Later, it’ll become stale and cold, similar to your friendship with Hyeju, or whatever kind of fucked up relationship you have.

You storm out of the dorm. You’re glad to get out—you’re already worried about the test later and the night class with miss Wong. Don’t need a situationship to take up your mind either.

The day passes like a car on a rocky, jagged road. It’s difficult to muster a smile to the freshmen the moment you come in to help miss Jeong teach, or work on your test when that argument with her fills your mind rather than equations you should have memorized. The whole day is torture, and you don’t dare wish it on anyone. Not even that asshole Daniel

“What’s up with you today?” people ask you. “You sure you’re alright?” “Where’s Hyeju?”

You don’t answer.

When the night comes, it’s relief for your sore mind and body. That test beat you up and the sun was too cruel to your skin. Even if night classes could last till the brink of dawn, you don’t mind. Take comfort in the fact that it’s only a discussion and nothing more.

Barely listen though. Two a.m. creeps by and you haven’t taken in a thing. Usually miss Wong would have you focused, keeping in mind that she’s strict and merciless, but you’re too tired today. Your bones ache though you didn’t do much walking. They’re only symptoms of heartbreak.

You don’t want to see a doctor. In fact, you want to get worse.

Miss Wong looks up at the clock. “Is it alright if I extend for just five minutes?” she asks. Her pencil skirt struggles to contain her strides on the platform.

A chorus of mixed responses echo in the classroom. Others, the top students in particular who participate in every club you could name, say it’s fine. Some already have excuses to make: they need to work on homework; they have other classes to go to; every excuse existing. You don’t know which side you’re on—you don’t want to come home to another angry night with Hyeju, and at the same time, you can’t be assed to stay.

Then—

Ringing. It’s all you hear. Your classmates’ voices drown out in it. It’s supposed to be soft, but it isn’t anymore when everyone shuts their mouth in alarm. Look here, look there. You don’t know where it’s coming from.

Your hint is the light in your pocket. Fish it out. It’s coming from your phone.

“I thought I told you guys to put your cellphones on mute during class,” Wong says, sighing. Her glare shoots you a warning.

Okay, you’d say sorry to her and put your phone away. Drop the call. Anything. But the first thing you do is wonder:

Why the fuck is Son Hyeju calling you?

Aside from all the tension between you, your natural instinct is to answer. Your next is to ask her, “Hye?”

“Oppa…” comes her voice from your speaker.

Before you could wonder why she’s calling, you notice that Hyeju’s voice is… lonely. Yes, lonely. That’s the word you’d use right away if you’re asked to describe it. No, it can’t be just that. It’s mixed with something else. It’s higher, a little more groggy.

Forget that you were fighting. Forget that she kissed Daniel and broke your heart. She wouldn’t call if it isn’t something even her pride can’t protect. “Hyeju? What’s wrong?”

“I’m lost.”

Those are the two words she utters before breaking into sobs. You’ve never heard or seen Hyeju cry. She likes to treat problems with anger rather than sadness, slicing away at every conflict with groans and cursing professors for low grades. If she’s crying, it must mean something’s wrong. Something’s very, very wrong.

You’re keenly aware that all eyes and ears are monitoring your moves, but you don’t care. You rise from your seat and start gathering your laptop into your bag. You forget about your notes. Fuck them. Hyeju comes first.

“Where did you go, Hye?” Walk out of the class. If miss Wong has a problem with that, she can tell you about it tomorrow.

Sniffles on her end. Her quiet, low cries break your heart. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I need you, oppa. I have… I have nobody else. Please come and get me.”

“Hyeju—”

“Please,” she whispers. Her voice lowers to a whine. “I’m alone. I’m so alone.”

Tears itch at the bottoms of your eyes. You have to come and get her. Need to forget the fight and silent treatment that ensued. All that means nothing if Hyeju’s in need of your help.

Where the fuck are your keys? Remove them from the loop of your jeans and click the button. In the driveway, your car’s headlights shine. Yep, there it is. You once regretted buying a secondhand car like that. Now that it can get you to Hyeju, you vow to take care of it for life. You’d spend thousands to repair it if it breaks down.

But right now, it’s Hyeju who’s breaking down. She’s all alone somewhere and she needs you. In a way, you need her, too. She’s the one who’s braver to admit it.

You’ve never driven faster in your entire life. All the while you stay on the line with Hyeju. Your grip on the wheel tightens whenever she lets out a hopeless little sob. She’s crying so hard that you want to roll into a ball in the corner and cry, too. You can’t do that. You have to be the stronger one, the one who comes to her like she’s done for you and tells her that everything’s going to be alright.

You make no promises.

Eventually you coax a location out of her and break several speed limits. Ignore the cops that yell at you. They can all go and fuck off. Hyeju needs you. You’re her best friend. It’s what friends do.

“Motherfucker,” you curse, upon seeing that the location she led you to was a club. It’s hidden in the corner of a creepy alley. “Hyeju, are you drunk?”

“Nooooo…” she drawls, giggling through her tears. “Your voice is so nice, oppa. It really makes me feel better. Did’ya know that?”

No time to be flattered. You burst into the club and find her in the midst of flashing lights and crowds of bodies. Your ears ring because of the music. Whose idea was it to hire this DJ? He thinks he’s doing such a good job, too.

Hyeju’s in the center of it all. Her black coat is too big for her, but so is the crowd. When it moves, it drags her along by the toes. She’s… smiling? Wasn’t she crying on the phone just minutes earlier? Maybe she drank more. This can’t be good.

“Hyeju!” Start walking faster.

She sticks her tongue out at you and starts to sprint upon seeing you get close.

You have no time for games. This isn’t even in the least bit funny. What if someone spiked her drink? What if that was the reason she’s acting funny? Worse: what if someone’s planning to take advantage of her? All these concerns bump into each other in your head as you run after her.

A couple of “excuse me”s and “sorry!”s after you quickly squeeze in between dancing people. Drinks spilled on the floor. Anger from two dolled up ladies. (A look to your right and… yep, not only from them.) Disapproval from the DJ who even calls you out. Boos from the crowd. You don’t care about them. You only care about getting Hyeju to safety. She can’t be here in her vulnerable state.

Before she could dash out from your line of vision, you grab her wrist. Seal your grip around it tightly so she can’t escape. “Son Hyeju,” you say, glaring at her. Ever since she stopped crying, she started to play around. This isn’t a game but to her it is. A fun game, to be more precise. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Oooh, you caught…” She burps. Playful giggles spill from her mouth. “... me!” Hyeju gives you a drunken smile and claps for you regardless of her right hand being held into position.

“Why are you here?”

“Why are you here? See? I can ask stupid q-questions, too!”

You whisk her away from the ongoing party and into the cold night air. You’re about to throw your jacket on her when you see that she’s wearing one, too.

People are starting to stare. Pray that no one intervenes, even if they have good intentions. After all, you’re a man with a woman under the influence. They have every right to be concerned, but you hope that just for now they know you wouldn’t dare hurt Hyeju.

The wind blows a breeze that almost knocks you to the floor. You draw Hyeju to yourself to warm her. You can’t risk her catching a cold.

”Let me go, oppa!” Hyeju’s mood goes from sad to drunkenly cheerful to pained. She forces her wrist out from your fist harshly. Your arms no longer wrap her. “You don’t like me anymore, right? And I have a boyfriend!”

Capture her hand again. She can’t escape and run away a second time. You’ve done that too much to know that it’ll send her down into a dizzying spiral. You’re cowards, the both of you—that’s why you flee whenever a problem arises. You don’t know how to deal with it.

That changes now. Get in your vehicle. Pull her in, too. “For your information,” you say, locking her seatbelt in place, “you called me. You asked me to pick you up.”

The car roars to life and speeds down the road. The night barely provides light for you to move along. It’s beautiful nevertheless. Stars peek out from the depths of black. The moon is dim yet reassuring. What fate does it have in store for you? Would you accept it if you knew? How could they all look so serene while you have your drunk crush next to you starting an argument?

“And you’d loooove not to do it, wouldn’t you?” Hyeju’s words suggest that she’s no longer that drunk but the way her words come out like jumbled words in a newspaper crossword tell you otherwise. She leans against the door and crosses her arms. “It was a mistake to call you. You, you fucking hate me.”

Does she really believe that? You may hate Daniel, but you never once hated Hyeju. You’ve only had wistful feelings for her even after she kissed him. You still checked up on her socials and watched her as she ate lunch with him. You remained loyal to her, like a dog following its owner through scoldings.

Yeah, you really are just her dog.

“I don’t hate you, Hye,” you say with conviction. You’re determined to make her believe that. It’s difficult when you’ve never been the type to be good with words.

“Yes, you do! You wouldn’t even let me explain why I kissed Daniel!”

“For fuck’s sake, I was hurt! I didn’t know what to do!”

“Then hear me out for once!”

“Alright.” Your hands slap the wheel, unintentionally bumping the horn and causing Hyeju to cringe. “Go on. Tell me what happened.”

“He was the one who kissed me, the fucking idiot! He kissed me out of the blue and wouldn’t stop!”

Wait.

What?

Daniel, your friend and Hyeju’s, initiated the kiss? Hyeju didn’t want it to happen?

If only you knew, you would have beaten up Daniel a long time ago.

You can’t even speak. You had it all wrong. You can’t believe there was an explanation for everything and you refused to hear it.

Hyeju begins to sob again. Her words circle in the air like an incantation. It’s equally because of the alcohol and her emotions. “I was… talking to him about my training, but then he kissed me.” She wipes her face and laughs humorlessly. “He started making out with me and, a-and I didn’t know how to stop it. It was like I was frozen.”

“You… you didn’t kiss him?” Your tone is broken and incredulous. “He made you do it?”

She looks almost offended. “Why? Why would I ever kiss that bastard?”

“But you’re dating him.”

“I am,” says Hyeju, hands in her hair, “Hah, okay. I'm dating him, yeah, but that’s just because I thought you didn’t like me. I only want one person in the world, and it isn’t Daniel Smith.”

“Hyeju—”

“It’s you, you clueless little shit!” She punches your shoulder and muffles her face into your car pillow. Her next scream is elongated, filled with frustration. When she lifts her face from the pillow, her eyeliner and blush are smeared and wet with teardrops. “It’s you, and I only want you!”

In vino veritas.

The confession is as out of the blue as Daniel’s kiss was. You’re in a state of shock and disbelief—too much information is coming into your brain. You want to punch Daniel in the face for shocking her with an unwanted move. You want to hug Hyeju. You want to tell her that you’re sorry for not hearing her side of the story.

Most importantly, you want to tell her that you want her, too.

It’s too late now. She’s seen you disregard her voice and choose to have a one-track mind. There’s no way she wants you anymore.

“Why the fuck would you ever want me, Hyeju?”

“Because!” She lets out a shivering little sigh. “You don’t treat me like… hlk, like I’m a trophy to show off. You’re my friend. You know how to be mean but you take care of me even if I’m too moody sometimes. Even if I don’t want to come along with you outside because I’m scared I’ll make myself look stupid in front of you. Even if… even if I love too hard but don’t show that I love you most and that sometimes you take care of me more than my dad does and I know it’s wrong to see you that way when I’m with him now but I really want you to take care of me but still kiss me too if I need it and be okay with me calling you names like ‘daddy’ and still being your best friend besides being my boyfriend… but I know it can’t happen anymore and I ruined everything—”

“Hyeju.”

More tears flow down her face. “—and I know you won’t ever love me the same again but I’ll regret forever, long after we graduate, that I never showed that I loved you, that I was a coward—”

“Hyeju,” you say, gently. Pull over at the university parking lot. You have your finger on her mouth, sealing them to stop her droning. She pauses. She doesn’t do it without breaking down. “Please. Don’t tell me you don’t know it. It’s been happening under your nose every single day.”

“What?” she murmurs, eyes glassy as they connect with yours.

“I like you, too.”

Silence. Several beats go by. They’re too lengthy to be fake. The next nuance confirms that:

Talk about relief. Talk about passion. As if she’s forgetting that a sudden kiss was what opened Pandora’s box, Hyeju grabs your face and does exactly that. Again, it has too many things to it that blocks it from being faux. The unique shape of her lips mold onto yours, as if your lips were made to kiss each other all the time. It’s back to the café again, wherein she does something and you subconsciously follow along. Your hands are on her phenomenal waist. And soon you’re unbuckling her seatbelt so she could sit safely on your lap, where she’s supposed to be. Where she belongs.

She drops her touch to your shoulders. She massages them, and you groan delightfully. Now it’s your turn to hold her face and lean in closer. Hyeju’s mouth tastes of sweetness and alcohol. You don’t know how those two tastes could mix together. Hyeju makes it work.

“Oppa, daddy,” she whimpers. She pulls away. The distance is still close to nothing. “Daddy, I love you.”

It’s a sudden nickname, still detached from when she uses it with you jokingly, yet there’s no hesitance here. You know your truth. “I love you, too, Hyeju.”

“Will you take me to bed?” She starts grinding down on your shaft needily. “Please say you will, daddy. Please say you’ll make me happy.”

“You’re drunk. I… I don’t know if I should.”

“‘m not. Maybe. But I’ve wanted it to happen for a long time,” Hyeju says. “I won’t mind, I promise.”

She couldn’t get any more sober with that. So you do what any man would do if they were called daddy by Son Hyeju: lift her out of your car, not caring to check twice if it’s locked, and bring her to bed. Take her coat off—she won’t need it if you’ll make her warm from the inside and out.

Her arms round your neck and her face is buried in your chest. Her words come out in a desperate, needy tone that you haven’t heard from her since the day you met. Who exactly were you to make her this small?

Her daddy, of course.

See, as tough as Hyeju makes herself out to be, she’s still needy. She still has her own problems that haven’t let go of her now that she’s older, like the daddy thing. You only fully understand it now when you lay her on the bed and continue kissing her. Hard. Her moans call out for you. They aren’t merely things to whine if it feels good. It’s not even a matter of want anymore; her shivers and cries indicate of her carnal need for you to do what you will with her.

“Don’t be scared,” she tells you, closing her eyes as you kiss her perfect jawline. “You wanted me for so long, right? Well, I did, too. Do what you want to me. Fuck me, daddy.”

“You talk extremely dirty for someone who’s drunk,” you chuckle.

“Not so drunk anymore. You make me sober.”

“Sweet talker. You’re all bark and no bite.”

Hyeju has no retort to make. Your lips on her gorgeous nipple render her speechless. The cute pink nub is hard, and grows harder at your loving suckles. Her breasts are the perfect size for squeezing. Relish in that fact by squeezing her left breast while dedicating more of your attention to the other, making her become sensitive with each action.

You’d say you have bite, for you do so lightly on her breast. She gasps. “Daddy!” she cries out.

“Fuck, don’t say it like that.” Your cock throbs already. It’s the same feeling you get all those times before, the times you’d get into an argument with Hyeju and she’d call you that.

“What? It’s not my fault you can’t handle me,” she says wittily.

“Don’t try me.”

“What?” She cocks a brow. “Hit too close to home?”

You have to shut her bratty self up. Tug her pants off, sliding them off her silky legs. Her pink panties are a hint to the gentle color of her pussy. Find out about them anyway—push the underwear aside and shove three fingers in her.

“Oh shit.” Hyeju’s squeeze on your digits is instant, like an impulsive reaction.

Think about if Daniel has done this to her before and pick up the pace. You’re fingering her like the walls of her soaked pussy would banish him and let you have her all to yourself. “Son Hyeju,” you growl, “shut the fuck up.”

“W-won’t—ah!”

If you don’t make her quiet, you’ll at least reduce her words to pathetic moans. You’d say you’re successful. Your rapid thrusts send Hyeju’s screams paralleling the night wind with their strength.

You’re surprised again and again at how loud she could get. She’s always so quiet except for the occasional sarcastic remark. She can make no more of those if faced with the relentless fingering you do unto her pussy. They draw out strings of dampness when they withdraw, and fill her right to the knuckles when you go back in. Her hips squirm and you have to place a hand on her thigh to continue.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy!” she screams. Her mouth is open while she sits up to look at what you’re doing to her vulnerable cunt. “It feels so fucking good, don’t stop!”

She looks beautiful. Her shirt is lifted above her breasts, making them bounce madly due to the timing and force of your thrusts. Her eyes could never be more watchful. She can’t believe she actually has you between her legs and fingering her to orgasm.

“Got any comeback for me, Hye?” you ask smugly.

Hyeju nods. Her lips are parted again. Although you haven’t had sex with her except for now, you know what that dropped jaw means: she’s close.

Her walls are impossible to part completely. She’s too damn tight that you bet she’d still be so with one finger. The grip of her slippery, wet cunt is like no other. You reach deep into it and stroke out till you find the place. That’s how Hyeju starts to shiver. She can’t manage it.

“Oh, yeah? What do you have to say now, sweet?” Wrap your lips around her nipple. It’s another one of your unfair advantages over her.

“I-I-I—I can’t!”

The recoil of Hyeju’s tits is amazing. Harshly squeeze the boob you’ve relatively neglected to make sure she can’t get a word out of those pretty lips. Take a further step and smack it, too. She moans in satisfaction. Your harsh squeezes imprint a replica of your hand on her pale skin.

Of course, you don’t forget to keep your fingers going. You change techniques now and then, switching from gentle circling to rapid fire shoving. Whether it’s one or the other, Hyeju’s fuckhole swallows you up. She doesn’t mind which or what; she needs your harshness the most. It’s what counts as a whole.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum! Please make me cum on your fingers, make your babygirl cum… oh—oh, fuck!”

Combined with your thumb nudging her small clit and your digits absolutely destroying her tightness, Hyeju does the unthinkable: she squirts on your hand and on your bed. Liquid gushes on your shirt; it’s so consistent and clear that a new determination is founded within you. It’s to make your unbearably hot best friend cum like she never has.

For the record, it’s the first time you’ve made a girl squirt. You didn’t expect that it would be this satisfying. Seeing Hyeju’s blissful face and the shake of her beautiful legs make your efforts worth it. Watching yourself do it to your best friend and make her feisty, boyish self let out screams and pleas brings increased triumph.

“No, oh god, it’s too much!” Hyeju says this but her legs part more. Her head is tossed back and her moans don’t stop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t—daddy!”

“Messy little brat.” Rub away at her clit. Feel the spurt of her cum hit your finger. “That’s it, cum for daddy. Keep those pretty thighs open.”

Hyeju mewls at the mixture of degradation and moans. If Daniel had said that to her, she probably would have thrown up in a bucket. When it’s you, on the other hand, everything changes. She wants you to call her every harsh name out there and accompany it with sides of praise. She’ll only feel this good when she’s with you.

Hyeju is anything but obedient. Things change here in the dorm, where her pussy is spread and prone to your touch. Her midriff, soft yet slender, rises over and over. The hose of her wet orgasms still hasn’t stopped.

“Goddammit, you’re squirting so much. Am I that good, hm, Hyeju? Is daddy that good to his pretty little girl?”

“Mmm, mmm, don't— no more, daddy, no more!” Hyeju’s core is already spent, and you haven’t even put your cock in her yet.

Stop. Not before you leave a kiss to the sensitive bundle of nerves that you abused. It’s a mark now, something invisible that subtly says to everyone that you got to fuck her. You got to fuck Son Hyeju. You made her cum like never before.

Spit on Hyeju’s center then spread it to her lips and nub. She moans. “You’re so wet, Hye.”

“Whatever.” She’s blushing. “I’ve had better.”

You have to say you’re a little provoked. You know it’s false seeing the smug look on her face and after making her squirt, but who exactly has done her better? Daniel? Definitely not him. The possibility still does well to spur you to jealousy.

“Oh,” you say, smiling tightly, “so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Hyeju gasps happily when she’s pushed to the wall and on her knees. It’s reminiscent of how Daniel did exactly that: pinning her to the wall before kissing her. Your anger brews into a fire just thinking about him.

“Yeah. What’re you gonna do about it?”

Unbuckle your belt. Your jeans join it on the floor as well as your briefs. “I’m gonna clean that dirty mouth of yours.”

“And how are you gonna do that, daddy?” Hyeju pretends not to know what’s coming.

It’s your belief that actions speak louder than words. That’s why when you place your cock in between Hyeju’s lips, it resonates inside her more than your promise to purify her mouth. Logic fails here when dirty sins can’t remove Hyeju’s dirty words. One wrong and another doesn’t make a right. Oh, who cares? This isn’t a class. This isn’t your thesis. You focus only on feeling the softness of her triangular mouth, the wetness of the back of her throat.

Holding your cock by the base, you lead its tip into rubbing every corner of Hyeju’s mouth. Her cheeks make an outline of your girth as you press your head against them. Her jaw becomes slack after you press your dick down to her tongue. You’re technically doing all the work here because you’re fucking her face, but you’d argue that Hyeju contributes just as much with her tearful eyes that are more puppy than wolf.

The shape of her wet orifice leaves ample space for you to rub against everything. Your tip draws a triangle on her lips right before slipping inside. There you keep your word and clean her dirty mouth. Push those naughty words down her throat with immediate thrusts. That way, she can only moan, nothing else. No sass can be heard from her now.

“You’re such a bad girl, Hyeju,” you say. Curl your hand ‘round her messy hair and direct it downwards. She groans, her mouth now upright for yout fuck easier into. “You shouldn’t like having your mouth used like this. You shouldn’t be on your knees for your best friend when your boyfriend’s waiting for you at home.”

Hyeju knows you’re right. She shouldn’t. She isn’t supposed to enjoy having her throat rammed and spread. She shouldn’t be cheating on the man she claims to love. It’s a mistake of hers to be here anyway, underneath another man.

Her second mistake is to like everything the way it is..

Her third is to tongue your shaft like she would a sweet treat. She wants to taste all of you, from your thick tip to the base. She’s not had much to work on with Daniel, but she knew it would be a good time when you sprung out your cock. She makes this worth it—she seals her lips at your base, her nose pressed firmly at the bottom of your tummy, then produces such a harsh suction that the grip you have in her black locks of messy hair tightens. A curse is what you let out besides precum.

“Fuck,” you say. Pull her head closer. Aggressive thrusts fire away. “Didn’t know your pouty little lips could suck dick so well. I bet it’s bulging your throat. Is daddy right about that?”

She tries to nod. Her gags stop her intended action; your thrusts have sped up and are now destroying her tight throat. No space is left for her to breathe when her mouth is stuffed with your length. Even her nostrils can’t take in much air if her nose is pressed that tightly to your stomach.

Place a hand on the wall in order for there to be no aches for her head when you thrust wildly. “You know, I changed my mind. Maybe you’re a good girl, especially with that face. Go on, touch yourself. I know you want to.”

Permission is granted by her daddy. Hyeju gives a cry in response then leads her hand between her legs. Letting you fuck her face has made her wet beyond imagination. She doesn’t need to press directly on her pussy when there’s slick all over her thighs. She gathers them all up and places them back in her pussy. She moans as she swirls her digits inside her. Here’s how it works: she has one hand masturbating, and the other on your thigh to caress it and at the same time keep her balance.

Take note of that. “You’re a smart girl, Hyeju. Smart girls shouldn’t be letting their faces get fucked. We can’t have that happen, right?”

You say that yet your actions tell a different story. Your violent pumps into Hyeju’s mouth to use it to the limits are endless. Hyeju’s moaning. She enjoys it more than she should. Of course, you jam those moans, as pretty as they are, down her throat.

Slap your cock on her lips.

“You know what I mean.”

Slip the whole of your length out then in again. Make her brush those luscious lips against every inch.

“We really, really can’t have that happen.”

Caress her cheek. Her eyes are awaiting and obedient. Look down into them and almost feel bad for ruining her, your best friend.

“Daniel might walk in anytime. He’ll be looking for you.”

Your movements are cruel as time goes by. You shouldn’t be treating your best friend like this. You shouldn’t even be having sex with her. All of these ought to stop you in your tracks—you don’t.

“And what will he say when he sees his precious girlfriend on her knees for his best friend?”

Hyeju begins to whine. She doesn’t want him to walk in; she’s enjoying this too much. What she doesn’t want to happen even more is for you not to blow your load inside her warm throat. People can’t have what they want all the time, but she swears she won’t want anything else if you just give her what she wants. That’s for you to absolutely use her. Be cruel to her and it wouldn’t sting.

“He’ll start to think how better you are with me. You’re a bad girl, Hyeju. You know that and you still want me.”

You’re right in every way. She is better with you. You just fuck her better, treat her better, kiss her better. She can’t kiss better the wound she’ll leave in Daniel if he just so happens to walk in. Maybe she could, but she’d put salt on it when he discovers how good you make her feel. It isn’t fair to anybody. To you, the one she accidentally hurt; to Daniel, who was the one (no, make that the two with how he was her last resort and how she gave him false hope); to her, who can’t go without you.

“Let go.”

Nine.

It takes exactly nine strokes in between her folds for her to cum. Drool sheens your girth. Some even drip from her mouth. It’s like she’s in heat; she’s whining as she tries to cum and suck you off at the same time. Hyeju ends up sucking your shaft with desperation, legs quivering and threatening to give away.

“Cum with me, Hyeju,” you command her. Pull out, rather regretfully, but take comfort with how pretty she’d look covered in your cum. Your hand wraps around you and jerks you off. Although it can’t match Hyeju’s mouth or her ass, it’ll do well in shooting your load on her.

Your best friend keeps calling your name squeezed between “daddy”s as she fingers herself to orgasm. She collapses pathetically on the floor, in a pool of sweat and cum. Her shirt and the floor of your shared dorm room are stained. No need to wonder where those white stains come from; the only suspects are you and Hyeju. It’s a partnered crime for her squirt comes out at such a velocity that it rivals your cumshots.

“Take my load, Hyeju, fuck!”

If there’s anything Hyeju isn’t, it’s submissive. It somehow changes when she nods and opens her mouth. You’re introduced to a whole new side of her. Her post-orgasm face is one you hope to admire everyday. Look at the expressions she makes when her eyes are crossed and her tongue is out for you and you have difficulty choosing between the two.

You and Hyeju exchange a tired look. If you’re to be specific, a look is how everything starts. You became friends with her because she was staring at you too long a time in class. You quickly reunited with her in college when you looked to your back to see to whom the familiar voice belonged. It took one quick glance to see that Daniel had kissed her in the noraebang.

Similarly, a look is what causes you to shamelessly throw Hyeju on the bed again. By now her limbs curl into yours like this were a completely natural thing that happened between you, as if she were always being fucked and manhandled like this. Your kisses now are more aggressive, too. They aren’t nervous like earlier, when you still weren't sure if doing this was right. Hyeju responds by engaging in a battle for dominance, pushing forward and pulling the forces connecting you.

You win in the end.

Slam her back down to the mattress. Her anticipation is written clearly in her eyes. “I’m going to ruin you, Son Hyeju,” you say.

She laughs in your face. “Bet.”

Alright. You’ll show her. It’s a friendly bet you’ll take all seriousness in.

Align your dick with her waiting cunt. You shed all attempts to tease her or dive into foreplay. What she needs is your cock inside her, rearranging her insides. If that’s so, you’ll give it to her.

“Oh!” Hyeju gasps. Her pretty eyes are big above her hands covering her face. She never guessed you would feel this good inside her. “You’re so fucking big, daddy. It's, it’s better than I imagined, fffuck.”

Steer all your weight into this thrust specifically. Your tip makes contact with her G-spot and sends her legs shaking. Send her a couple inches further on the mattress. Her godly tits begin another round of bouncing. There’s no other routine you’d love to watch.

Already you've put your hands on her hips. They’re to pull her closer if she gets lost. Again. You have to make sure you won’t lose her this time. This chance was given to you for a reason. You have to keep her here, show her all the love you’ve kept bottled up all these years.

Hyeju squirms a lot. That’s what your grip is for. It’s to keep her on the bed so she can easily receive your pumps. And what a good job she does at receiving them—Hyeju’s hips shiver as they’re subjected to a force her sensitive pussy can’t handle. She’s always going into things she can’t handle. This is no different. Time with Daniel was okay, but you’re a different story. You ensure that she’s always filled to the hilt until she’s bottoming out.

Deeper and deeper you go. Your cock knocks up into her tummy. You curse; it’s hotter than it’s supposed to be. Something as simple as that shouldn’t be so arousing.

“Oh, you like that? You… you like seeing your big cock stuffing my little pussy?” asks Hyeju. Her teeth are parted to let in air she so desperately needs to formulate these words. She knows they’ll turn you on. “I know you do, daddy. Look at your meat ruining my insides. You’re going to cum so much inside me. And I’ll take it all. I’m a good girl. I’ll show you I’m a good girl.”

She leads your hand to her throat and closes your digits around it. Get the message. Squeeze there tight. Her strangled gasp is everything.

“You are, huh?” you say. Your composure is long gone. “Are you always this tight, Hyeju? Are you always this good? Or is it just for daddy?”

There’s something incredibly hot in the way Hyeju gushes and screams for you. Her nipples stand in the air, aroused by the quick penetrating done to her pussy. It seems almost impossible for her to be this wet. Each push of your hips brings forth a gush of wetness that wets the sheets and your joined crotches. Bring out your cock for a second to quickly flick its tip on her clit.

Hyeju gropes her own chest with closed eyes. “Ohhhh, fuck!”

Return to your routine of drilling her. Her whole body reacts violently to your pounding. Moreover, every part of Hyeju’s beautiful body screams to be touched. Her jiggling thighs and breasts, her midriff prone to your thrusts, her face that’s never looked this slutty… where should you start? Your touch is given multiple choices, and you choose all of them. Your hands roam her body and squeeze and feel and grope. In response, she moans. The volume of her acute voice turns up with each, almost like her body has triggers that would draw out louder sounds.

You think of it that way and now Hyeju’s screaming as you propel inside her while keeping a hand on her clit.

“Daddy, o-only you, daddy!” she proclaims in a helpless scream. “No one can make me feel as good as you do, just keep fucking me, don’t stop!”

You’ve got your answer. Smile in satisfaction and, since she’s a good girl and gave the correct response, lean it to worship her breasts. Does slapping them count as worshiping? Hyeju thinks it does—her high groans and yells are enough to be context clues. You marvel at the size of her chest, so subtle with the baggy clothes she wears but now in their full, naked glory before you. It’s impossible for them to be presented to you without a squeeze being done.

“You like my tits, daddy? I’ll let you fuck them all you want, just finish inside me. I’m safe today. Promise, p-pro—”

Bury yourself deep inside her, to the point that your cockhead pushes at her cervix. Fill her up. Hyeju moans happily. She rolls her body up and down. The stimulation seduces you into making (kind of) breeding her a job well done.

“Thank you, daddy.” she sighs. She’s still erotically grinding her hips. It’s karma for overstimulating her a little earlier when your fingers filled her.

“S-stop, Hyeju.”

“Stop? Alright, sure. I think that’s enough now. Daddy doesn’t want to fuck my tits anymore.”

Naughty little brat. She knows just the right words to tick you off and turn you on. It makes you want her to pound her into the bed again so that not even the old mattress can forget that it was the place you and Hyeju fucked.

“I’m just kidding, silly. Sit down! Yes, thank you.”

She flashes you a smile after you do as she says. It’s a rare moment in this session with her that she has the say in what happens. Somehow. It can’t be completely true, not when she’s on her knees again for you. Not when her tongue trails worshipful lines on your cock and draws tight licks on your tip. Shiver. You’re a bit sensitive yourself.

“Now see how good this feels?”

She takes her glorious breasts in her hands and wraps them around your cock. You let out a guttural moan. Hyeju’s tits rival her mouth and pussy. It’s a close competition, with the advantage of softness most of all. Oh, when she starts to move, gliding her supple skin up and down your size, you almost cum on the spot.

Her bosom is a portal to heaven, you swear. Your legs feel light. Your core is hot as your size disappears between her breasts, buried in the soft and safe haven she provides. The friction is so overwhelming that you doubt it could even be a real sensation.

She makes a show of rubbing your tip on her nipple, similar to what you did to her clit. The two of you are sensitive, so you moan in harmony as it happens. After gliding your cock on her large breasts, she goes back to titfucking you.

It’s all a matter of technique. Whenever she presses her chest together, your cock is suffocated with euphoric tenderness. On the other hand, when she simply moves up and down, you’re given the opportunity to grind down at the skin between her pale breasts. Each route leads to an inevitable fate: exploding all over her a second time.

"P-please stop, Hyeju," you say. You can't handle no more and there's so many more things you want to do to her.

"Awh." She pouts. Fat tears risk spilling from her eyes. God, she could be so cute sometimes. "What do you want, daddy? I can be good."

"Turn around."

"Ohhh, I see what you want." Hyeju turns around and spanks herself. Her ass ripples photogenically. "Of course. Of course you want it."

Hyeju can be so many things. A few minutes earlier she was a submissive babygirl for her daddy, and right before that she was a brat. Now, she transforms into a seductress. She doesn't lace or lingerie to become one. She has that fantastic body to do the work for her.

Hyeju starts to dance. Your eyes are trained on her. They never want to see anything else than her swaying her butt with a dancer's grace and charm.

"Giving me a show, huh?"

"Unless daddy wants it already."

"I do."

She squeezes her ass cheek before reaching her pussy. Then, she rubs her wetness on her pink, puckered hole. She lathers some at the inside of the rim, too. She didn't expect to fuck you today, no matter how many times she's dreamed of it, so there's no lubricant around. Hyeju has to make do.

"Oh!" she squeals when you give her a playful smack on the ass. "Impatient. Daddy's impatient. Don't worry, I'll give it to you."

“You did this before?”

“Duh.” Hyeju smiles sweetly, quickly returning to her good girl side. “You ready now, daddy?”

Apparently, it’s a rhetorical question, for Hyeju immediately guides your tip into her backside. You do your part in spreading her cheeks. Both of you moan at the first contact. It’s difficult by itself to insert just your tip through. She’s too tight.

You’re sinking into this long-chased dream. You’ve seen Hyeju walk around the dorm with no shorts on. Sometimes you're able to catch a glimpse of her bare ass when she dresses up in the dark. It’s normal when it’s with you, considering that your friendship transcends time, but she doesn’t know that yearning’s been put in your heart in those moments. You want her. You want Son Hyeju.

And now, she’s submitting herself to you. She’s given you her body, her tits, her pussy. Now she offers you an equally delicious choice: her supple ass that’s bouncy as it finally sits down completely on your lap.

“Good daddies bounce their babygirls on their knees, right? Should’ve known that, dummy. So come on, pound me. It isn’t hard.”

Well, you are. Hyeju’s ass is constricting you yet you enjoy every second of it. Her tight little asshole clings to you as you do as she says. You’d do anything for Hyeju, and that doesn’t exclude engaging in anal sex with her.

Choose a rhythm to go by to enjoy the tightness Hyeju gives you to the fullest. She leans into you and hums quietly, lower lip worried between her teeth and ass steadily rising and resting. The flexes of your thigh also stimulate her needy pussy. Your knee brushes her clit steadily while your cock penetrates her asshole better than any toy could. Better than any boy would.

“Oh, that feels so good, daddy…” Hyeju murmurs. “Keep spreading me like that, yes.”

Just when she thought you’d switch to being gentle, your thrusts become sporadic. She can’t find which timings you’re going by. The calm before the storm, so to say. Hyeju’s whimpers and whines are your thunder, and they soon live up to their name when they grow louder, filling your ears as would the violent downpour of raindrops.

“D-daddy, daddy, oh my god—” Pain partners up with pleasure in wrecking her hole. Darn you for reaching in front of her to rub her clit as well. Too many things are happening at the same time. “Daddy better make me cum, please, please—”

Your size fills the tight space of her ass so much that it’s difficult to move. The juices of her pussy that she’s used as makeshift lube can’t even do the job they’re assigned to. However, you don’t care about that. You simply fuck Hyeju’s fat, delectable ass like it’s been your long-term dream. In a way it is, but you’d be dreaming about it long after it’s already been fulfilled.

Hyeju stands up to take the lead and work her butt on you. You know she’s an excellent dancer but you never knew she could be this good at twerking either.

“Holy shit, Hyeju, your little asshole feels amazing,” you moan. Spank her, though she’s undeserving of punishment when she’s amazing at using that ass.

“And your cock is so fucking big in my ass,” she says. “I don’t want anything else, daddy. Ohh, god, keep doing that.”

Her rear end bounces and claps together as they take in your fat cock. She looks back at you lustfully, watching you ruin her supple ass. Reach for her breasts to match the velocity of her thrusts. You’re two forces colliding, each filled with fire to defeat the other with pleasure. It’s a losing game when Hyeju’s ass is just as good as her pussy, which you continue playing with to bring her to orgasm.

“Good girl, Hye, keep bouncing that fat ass on daddy,” you whisper in her ear. Love to hear her weak little moans; they show you that she likes this as much as you do. Probably more. “You want to cum, right? You want to squirt on me again?”

“Yes, daddy, please!” Hyeju is in paradise although her skin feels like it’s been set on fire. She hasn’t felt this good before. “No other cock can do me the way you do, daddy, I’m all yours! Make me cum, cum inside me, daddy!”

You’ve changed her. She’s a totally different person outside of the bedroom. She hides her approval in sarcastic comments and teases you about them. How is it that she’s completely submissive and good for you?

Your ego swells. Smack her pussy just enough to make her gasp. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours, daddy!”

“And this ass?”

“It’s all yours, daddy,” sobs Hyeju. “Always so fucking big inside me, so much better, you need to make me cum—”

Pull her down to your lap then thrust inside her all while not letting an inch withdraw from her snug butthole. “Cum for me,” you say.

“Ohhhh fuck!”

Hyeju begins her sexy body rolls again as a profane spray of clear liquid fires from her pussy. She’s so wet; when you rub her clit, a squelching sound is produced. She’s too turned on from the feeling of you savage pounding inside her. She slaps her own pussy to go along with your rubbing, then leads your fingers inside her cunt again. She’s still so tight.

The combined feeling of two of her holes being violated has her tired. She could be murmuring a spell and you wouldn’t know because of how jumbled and jarred her words are. The syllables make out your name and title. At least, that’s what you could understand. It would take an experienced veteran transcriber to make sense of Hyeju’s sounds.

You blast her ass with so much cum that it overflows, like water threatening to spill from the brim of a glass. Your joined cores are so wet and sticky that neither of you feel like moving. You want to stay in the narrow yet pleasurable comfort of each other’s touch forever.

It’s so pleasant that you could only hear the gratifying sound of each other’s pants and not the knocks on your door.

So safe that you don’t hear the sound of a lock being skewered with because each other’s bodies are more homely than this dorm.

So distracting that when he comes in through the door and yells in disgust, it’s the first time you feel an awakening sobriety.

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