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hazelfoureyes · 2 months

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Luck (Alastor x Reader smut)

Tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x reader, smut, creampie, attempted kidnapping, justified homicide, mention of the the history of women stabbing men with hat pins, biting, breeding kink if you squint, blood, Luci left on read :(, protective Alastor, cervix bullying, possessive Alastor, outside sex, rough sex, fem reader

minors DNI

This was a two part story, this being part two. But part one just isn’t good enough and I’m tired of waiting lol so here’s the standalone smut, written in a way it can be enjoyed solo

Vox’s ever present eyes noticed a reoccurring face around Alastor, and decided you were an easy way to get under his skin. Alastor manages to find you during the kidnapping but how he finds you sends his gentlemanly resolve unraveling. He had wanted to be gentle, he really had. C’est la vie, hm?

It took nearly 2 months of regular run-ins around Cannibal Town, chats over black coffee and deviled eggs, and some behind the scenes magic by Rosie but you finally enjoyed a dinner with the Radio Demon.

He’d never tell you how he awoke nightly in a panicked sweat, dreams of your soft skin under his nails tormenting him. He had done his absolute best to be just a charming southerner, tiptoeing between flirtatious and polite. Something about asking someone out during the night seemed scandalous and … loaded with implications. But ever since his hands felt your body thrumming beside him during a dance at Rosie’s Birthday Bash in the town square, he felt starved for the opportunity to see you again. You were beautiful in the daylight, yes. But something about the night, the way the shadows seemed to blanket the two of you together, it made him feel wild. He could remember the nights on the prowl during his time on earth, and the rush of being so close to you with so few people around felt so similar.

Rarely did he get a rush of adrenaline anymore, but when you’d shoot a witty retort back at him his heart would balloon against his ribs. The way you looked at him while he spoke, like you were drunk on the sound of his voice, made his fingers tremble. He never wanted anyone to know this, and hoped in some way he’d never have to tell. But then he considered, what face would you make if you ever reached over for his hand across the table? What if you rested your delicate head against this chest and heard the frantic beating? How sweetly would you smile? Smile at him, only?

“Alastor?” You broke him from his trance, noticing the ever so subtle way his smile seemed to loosen around the edges when he was lost in thought.

Dinner was long done, and you’d both managed to stall for a bit as he walked you toward the gates to Cannibal Town. He had insisted he escort you, though he was irked you wouldn’t allow him to wait until your ride had arrived.

If he knew you were staying with Lucifer Morningstar, he’d see you differently somehow. You didn’t want Alastor to think you were chasing powerful men, or to know you slept so close to the King of Hell. Something in your gut said he would find it unattractive.

“Yes, dear?”

You gestured to the gates a couple blocks in front of you, “This is good. You should get home.” Before Luci arrives to take me back to his.

“I intended to take you to the gates.” He looked past you, then back to you. You were so … small in front of him. Not your body or form, just, your existence. So delicate compared to his own strength. The way you looked up at him with your large doe eyes, it practically pained him. You looked so innocent, pure— how he wanted to make your eyes roll as your head lost any semblance of coherent thought. He wanted to corrupt you from the inside out.

“It’s just a couple of blocks.” He lifted his hand to begin to argue, but you cut him off at the head. “Alastor” you said it so softly now, your tone startling him with its gentleness. Had anyone, ever, said his name so sweetly? Since his mother, atleast?

“May I?” You tapped your cheek. His eyebrows rose before knitting together in understanding.

He leaned down and turned his cheek to you. You hummed happily and placed a chaste kiss there. Alastor turned his face toward yours, “In the future, You don’t have to ask for permission, darling.” You tried your best to keep your heart in your chest, and nodded. It was well known he wasn’t fond of physical touch, let alone unexpected touch. Is this how it felt to be an overlord? To claim a piece of someone else, a slice of territory not originally yours? “Two blocks is quite a deal of distance in hell.” He didn’t take his eyes off yours. Your attempt to distract him failed. Of course it did, he was nothing if not persistent.

“I have my weapon.” You lifted the hem of your dress to show a small angelic dagger holstered to your thigh.

“Ah, yes. Ha ha! Some kind of hat pin, I see” His eyes rolled, amused, “Who would dare bother you with such a frightening needle?”

With a glare, you mocked him, “Ha, Ha.” But as you turned to leave you stopped yourself. Every encounter with Alastor felt like it could be your last, as if he’d just disappear entirely. “May I see you tomorrow? I was going to get coffee at Hallowed Grounds around 10.”

“My dear, you couldn’t stop me.” He cooed, “Needle and all.”

“Good night, Alastor”

“Good night.” He didn’t move at first, but after you had made it half way to the gates of what he felt was assured safety, he let himself turn and leave.

His grin touched his ears as he hummed to himself. His cheek felt heavier where you’d kissed him. A part of you lingering with him. How he wanted nothing more than to grab you by the throat and -

An appliance store window filled with various sized TVs flickered as he walked past. Alastor stopped, ears turned down as he turned on the heels of his feet to face Vox’s cocky stare plastered on every screen.

“Oh, it’s you. Don’t you have a curfew? No TV after 9pm, they say. Rots the brain.” Alastor lifted his hand to inspect his nails. Vox had a witty intro planned, and launched straight into it. He only stopped when Alastor looked back up, “I’m sorry, were you speaking?”

The screens glitched and filled with static before Vox’s face stretched out across them all.

“It’s not my bed time you should be worried about.” Vox crooned. He couldn’t resist the urge to prod Alastor, “Perhaps your new friend should have gone home earlier.”

Just before you reached the gates, you stopped to see if Lucifer had replied about his ETA. Your phone slipped out of your hands as someone pulled you backwards into the narrow alley behind you.

A hand covered your mouth while the other arm was lifting you up by your waist. You kicked your feet uselessly trying to make contact with any thing that would slow your progress into the shadows.

Another man entered now in front of you, “You’ve got a meeting at Vee Tower, babe.”

The sound of an idling car in the back of the alley came into focus. You grabbed your knife and plunged it into the right thigh of the man holding you. He dropped you and you barely managed to scramble to your feet before his hand grabbed you by the hair and threw you against the wall. The force of the impact stunned you but you’d managed to keep the knife in your grip.

You’d been waiting for this. You had let men get the best of you before on earth, too scared of dying if you failed to defend yourself. You weren’t scared now. When you looked back at the man, he was shouting at his partner but you couldn’t understand a word. Your ears were ringing, a combined effect of hitting the wall and your skyrocketing blood pressure.

Your shoes slipped off easily and you pushed yourself from the wall and back into the attempted kidnapper, shoulder first.

Seeing you launch yourself onto his accomplice, the other man booked it out of the alley. It wasn’t worth it. This was supposed to be easier than this.

If he had maybe turned left, he would have made it to safety. But luck was with Alastor when the brute ran straight into him.

Your phone lay on the ground behind the man, who was already backing up when Alastor set his eyes on him.

“I’m going to enjoy this”, Alastor’s voice cracked with a static sting, eyes flickered to red dials against midnight black eyes as his back and neck broke and stretched. The man tripped over himself, but Alastor’s hands tore the man’s upper torso from his body before his ass had time to hit the sidewalk.

There was no time to savor the death, he tossed the man’s head and shoulders into the street before bounding with unnaturally wide strides into the entry of the side street.

Never had he known fear like this. Not when alive, not even close. Not even when Adam nearly bested him. There was a rock in his stomach threatening to drag his heart into the gutter of the Pride Ring as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the alley. Were you still there? Were you still whole?

You hadn’t noticed him at first, not until his massive, looming shadow shrunk across your body. Even then, you hadn’t stopped to realize it wasn’t the other attacker. You continued stabbing the dagger into the man’s throat with both hands until Alastor’s shoe crushed a piece of wayward glass under his step, breaking your concentration. Wild eyes finally tore themselves from the grey flesh of the demon on the floor up to Alastor, still expecting a fight with the man who’d fled.

“Alastor” was all you could squeak out. You were straddling the man by the chest, his throat so thoroughly decimated his head held on by just a few loosened tendons. The white dress you’d worn specially for your dinner was soaked through with blood. Your hands red to the wrists. Your lips and cheeks splattered. Your feet dirty and bare.

You yelped as you were yanked off of the dead man by your chin, Alastor’s large hand holding you off the ground. You were finally eye to eye with your dinner date. For the second time that night you were thrown against the cold brick wall. Alastor’s free hand grabbed yours that still held the knife and repeatedly bashed your fisted hand against the wall until the knife fell from your grip to the street below you. You hadn’t meant to keep it, never meant to brandish it at Alastor. Your survival instinct had overridden your sense.

Perhaps it would have stayed in control, but when Alastor’s hand slipped to your throat and his lips crashed into yours your mind went blank.

He kissed you clumsily, this wasn’t a man in love, or even a man in lust. This wasn’t a man at all. A demon in need was bruising your lips against his teeth. When you didn’t immediately open to receive him, he used his free hand to push at your cheeks and press inward where your bottom jaw naturally met your top. Your mouth was wrenched open, allowing his long and wide tongue to bully your own.

Alastor felt frenzied, the sight of you manically stabbing the already dead attacker momentarily broke him. His sweet little doe, his innocent and gentle darling brutally murdered a man and he got to witness it with his own eyes. He never believed God ever noticed his existence, but the moment he saw you straddling that corpse he felt sure some higher power delivered you to him. Just for him.

Only for him.

Pretense and facade be damned, you were made for him in such a specifically demented way.

He lifted you up, pressing your body against the wall with his own as your legs wrapped around his hips. He didn’t know where to start, he couldn’t keep his hands from trembling as he smeared the blood over your cheek between hurried kisses. His eyes were aglow, keeping your focus on him and only him as they darted around your face taking in every detail, every errant drop of your attacker’s blood.

Alastor buried his head into your collarbone, sucking bruises and nipping cuts into your exposed skin. You could feel the strained erection in his pants, it helped keep you balanced against him and the wall. He seemed to be mindlessly grinding his clothed cock against your core. Your dress had naturally found its way up and over your hips as he let one of his hands cradle your ass.

He had half a mind to rip the dress off of you but as he took a second to look down at your body he knew he wanted to keep it. The dress his love first killed in. Love— before a word that fell weightless from his tongue now sat heavy in his thoughts. He wanted your blood stained dress stuffed in his mouth as his last meal. An ode to your corruption. Maybe you'd understand him now, better than most. Did you enjoy it when you stabbed that man?

Breathing ragged and uneven, he pressed his forehead against yours. His eyes were glowing red, pupils dark black pins.

Did it scare you, when you killed him?

Were you scared now?

He lurched you upward again, hands coming to either side of your head as he pulled back to look at your face properly.

“If you don’t want this, now is your only opportunity to stop me.” He closed his eyes to try and regain an ounce of composure. Perhaps a small human piece of him not wanting to see your face if you denied him this.

With every breath he seemed to be taking in your scent, his hips still gently pushing into you. Your eyes darted to the well lit street just beyond the dark of the alley. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting your fingers scratch lightly at his undercut. He violently shuddered at the touch.

You shook your head imperceivably to most, “You don’t have to ask me for permission, darling.”

With that, Alastor came completely undone. As his teeth marked your neck with shallow tears, his hand tore the crotch of your panties entirely off, leaving just the lace waistband to slip up your stomach. With the speed of a starving man to his first meal, his cock was free of his pants and rutting against your exposed slit.

The head of his member was pushing against your clit in unpracticed thrusts, slipping between your lips and pressing at your entrance. With a growl he lifted you up more and angled your hips to him. He didn't wait to feel if he was lined up and he sunk into your heat with a single thrust. You winced, clutching onto his shoulders. His eyes saw the pained expression and for a second, just barely, the southern gentleman who tried to walk you home slipped back to the surface. But as quickly as he came, he was lost again as Alastor saw the way your mouth hung open, tongue hanging over your swollen lip.

A static shock nipped at your wrists where they met his neck, "Such a debauched look, mon cher. I haven't even begun to ruin you yet."

A moan slipped past your lips as he brought his mouth to your ear, tugging with his teeth as he thrust back into you. You could feel he hadn't bottomed out yet, but already he was crushing your stomach into your diaphragm. Your chest began to feel hot, a warmth trickling down to your stomach and pooling beneath your belly button.

Ad his breath ghosted along your neck, you could hear it sharply spike with every slam of his hips against yours. Something about seeing him losing composure, hearing him so vulnerable, spurred you to roll your hips against his cock.

"Mmmm," Alastor groaned, "Don't push your luck, dear. Do you know how precarious of a sit-"

You did it again.

He pulled out of you with one motion and flipped you around. Your hands were yanked behind you, the long fingers of one of his own hands intertwined with your wrists. His other hand lifted your knee up and out as he pushed back into you. The new position allowed him to reach deeper than before, and with a burning stretch you felt him finally bottom out. With each thrust, the head of his dick dragged inside of you. The new angle allowed him to smash into your g-spot with every slam into your heat, his balls tightly slapping against your wet cunt.

"I wanted to be gentler with you", He leaned his head against your shoulder, pace quickening. It felt as if your back would snap in half, "But you looked absolutely sinful covered in his blood." His lips grazed your ear as he let go of your wrists, his antlers now large enough to be scraping against the bricks above your head. The loss of him holding you made you lose you balance. Alastor took the opportunity to find your clit with his middle finger.

Biting down on your lip you broke the skin, trying to suppress the moan rising out of you. His hips kept a bruising pace, your ass smacking against his lower stomach with every thrust. You didn't want anyone, anyone to find you getting railed against a wall just outside of cannibal town.

His fingers forced past your lips, you hadn't noticed he was using a shadow tendril to now lift your knee to nearly touch your elbow. Two fingers pressed down on your tongue as his pace impossibly quickened.

You wanted to lick or suck at his digits, do anything to participate in this alleyway fucking, but it became clear Alastor didn't want you to do anything at all. He was lost in the pleasure of your pussy clamping down on him, pushing back against him with every intrusion. He just needed you to exist there around him. He needed you to take him, for your body to welcome the gentle abuse.

The pressure began to build as the reality set in that the Radio Demon was fucking you raw against a wall. You felt your orgasm winding up. The infamous Alastor, the mighty overlord, balls deep in you. So entranced by your cunt he could only groan and hiss against your ear. You could feel every centimeter of him pulling and pushing inside of you, his head smashing your cervix and uterus into your guts.

Your hands began to slip down the wall as your mind started to go fuzzy around the edges. His middle finger strumming at your sensitive clit with a new fervor, his thrusts becoming shallower. The radio in the assailants idling car roared to life, flitting through stations and static wildly as Alastor spoke to you.

"When you orgasm,” His voice crackled against the nape of your neck, "and your cervix lowers to receive my seed,” your knee was dropped as he fucked you flush against the wall, trapping your body there, "I will drown your needy cunt in my cum, darling." His words echoed through the car's radio and off the walls of the alley, volume peaking with a pop as the speakers blew out.

The tickle of his lips along your spine made you shudder, and you went limp as you let your mind go and allowed your body to spasm around him. As your orgasm hit, your stomach muscles cramped and your body tightened around Alastor's cock. He hissed, his hips losing their rhythm for a second as you almost painfully clamped onto him, cunt trying desperately to pull him deeper into you. He needed to slow down or else he’d be pushed into his own release sooner than he planned. As your orgasm waned and your pussy squeezed softly against him again, he renewed the rhythm. Your body had gone entirely slack, your limbs no longer able to receive messages from your brain.

Within seconds, Alastor thrust against you so forcefully you felt the air pressed out of your lungs. He buried himself in you, holding your hips flush against his as you instinctively tried to squirm away. The way you moved against him, tried to flee from his release, only seemed to make his cock jump more inside you. You thought you heard a pained “mine" against your shoulder as his promised seed jerked into your now pliant womb.

He finally stilled, his dick softening in you. You felt your body slide down the wall, feet touching the ground before giving out entirely. You sat, slumped back, and looked to the scene in front of you. Dead demon behind Alastor, your shoes bloodied and tossed around, and your little knife just within reach.

Alastor quickly composed himself, cock returned to his pants and his suit adjusted precisely. You looked up at him, eyes glazed and tear stained. Your dress was wet and ruined, thighs slick with a mix of fluids. Yet he stood there, clean and pretty. Perhaps some of you had soaked into the front of his pants, but you couldn’t be sure.

"I apologize for underestimating you", He took the dagger, lifting your dress to slide it back into its holster. "And for allowing you to leave my sight." He gathered your shoes and wiped the dirt from them against the leg of his pants before gently slipping them back onto your feet. With two large hands under your arms he pulled you up to your feet, legs trembling still. "I promise you it won't happen again. Can you walk, my doe?"

The new name made your cheeks feel hot, funny given the more embarrassing part of this situation was his cum now sliding down your thighs. You nodded weakly, adding, "But-" and glanced to your lap. You squeezed your knees together and looked back at him.

"I fail to see the problem." His head tilted to the side as he lifted your dress with one of his long fingers and watched the milky white liquid slowly inch down your inner leg. "But, I'll find us a taxi. You won't be going home." He guided you by your hands to step over the corpse and into the light of the street.

You clarified, "I won't be going home tonight?"

He summoned his microphone and brought it down with a crack onto your phone, still discarded on the sidewalk. "INCOMING CALL: LUCI" flashing on the screen before it was shattered. He lifted his hand and waved for a passing taxi, turning to you with a soft grin, "Any night, darling."

༻Masterlist༺

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hitmonrocklee · 1 year

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did u know that u can only add 30 tags to a post? i didn’t know that

#i wasn’t done talking about lis lol #more spoilers and long tags ahead #anyway the soundtrack.#i was so excited to hear that mxmtoon was alex #didn’t realize that she was only alex’s singing voice and not the VA for her whole character #but still great choice #and the fucking #i nearly shit myself when kings of leon played in the beginning #MECHANICAL BULL WAS THE ALBUM GABE ORDERED???? SERIOUSLY?????#i have a significant emotional attachement to that album specifically #my friend and i fucking lost it #bc like. i don’t know anyone else who likes lis as much as me. it’s very much my thing #and then they have MY ALBUM in there too?????? ejwjshdgkdfocihrbe #omg. and gabe. very tadashi hamada </3 #i LOOOOVVVVEEEDDDD the dnd section of the game #way way too easy but it wa so cute and fun. i loved ethan :)#and i didn’t exactly see the events of ep 5 coming but the second we read jeb’s profile from typhon it was over #he was like ‘i’ll take u to the mines in the middle of the night alex! u deserve the truth! :D’#yeah not suspicious at all sir lead the way #also. how did jeb miss the shot. she was less than 2 feet away from him. and then he’s like yeah i guess that’s a wrap on my ninth murder #now i’ve convinced my friend to playthrough lis arcadia bay with me #we’re seeing each other again for new years so we’ll probably start then and i’m so excited #i’m gonna try to finish up pjo for her too #i’ve read the first and half of the second #maybe we can watch the show together after #i’m sure she’ll binge it when it first comes out but might want to rewatch it with me #most likely will. pjo is her thing and she wants to get a riptide tattoo which would be pretty cool #sean’s tattoo is one of the funniest parts of lis 2 #sam post #life is strange true colors

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bby-deerling · 7 days

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I don't know why giving One Piece men head is the only thing on my mind right now, but by god, do I really want too.

I am nothing if not a whore for fictional men.

i am shamelessly using this as an excuse to do some headcanons about giving them head LOL, i hope you don't mind, pookie <3

giving them head headcanons (nsfw)

ft. zoro, sanji, ace, law, kid

masterlist || commissions

cw: oral sex (character receiving), swallowing, 69, teasing, cumming on reader's face, messy blowjobs, dacryphilia, throat fucking

tagging: @willowbelle @queenmimi2817 @eelnoise @sanjisjuul @sanjisprincesswifey @mirillua @atanukileaf @revasserium

zoro

loves to 69 with you; while he loves the feeling of your warm, wet mouth around his cock, he has so much fun seeing how quickly he can distract you and make the movements of your head along his shaft pause from the hot stripes he licks across your clit. no matter how strong your resolve is, you always turn into putty on top of him, mewling with his cock still deep in your throat, and he teases you relentlessly for it.

while he loves seeing you swallow every last drop he has to give you, sometimes he likes making you stick your tongue out to show him his own seed coating your mouth before you swallow and let it drip down the back of your throat—especially when you have that satisfied grin on your face while you do it.

sanji

this man is extremely vocal during sex to start with, but doubly so when you go down on him; he just can't help himself from whining, crying out in pleasure, and whimpering sweet praises as you swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock.

when he's so close, nearly about to cum, he gets so lost in all the sweet, tingly, air-headed sensations that he's feeling that he forgets to give you warning before he lets go in your mouth. he'll apologize profusely as he does it, but don't be surprised if his eyes darken as he asks you to stick out your tongue for him so he can inspect it and make sure you didn't waste any food.

ace

lets out the cutest little sighs and moans while your tongue curls along the length of his shaft. his cock is so warm in your mouth, and you feel like it nearly melts into your tongue as it runs along his shaft. he can't help but let out soft whimpers as your tongue swirls along his head—it's his most sensitive spot, and once you figure that you, it's over for him—not that he's complaining, of course.

while he loves holding the back of your head, he never pushes—he's much too eager to see what you want to give him without his interference. in turn, the warmth from his palm and his fingers against your scalp is so comforting and relaxing that it makes you even more willing to take him as deeply as you can.

kid

brutal in everything he does, he doesn't hesitate to fuck your throat. hand firmly grasping tendrils of your hair, he lives for every squeak and moan you let out as his thick cock bullies the back of your throat—and when you look up at him with those beautiful tear-stained eyes, it's hard for him to not cum right on the spot.

he loves to cum on your face. it's a little bit territorial, and a lot of bit because of the degradation aspect; he loves making you dirty, and seeing his thick white ropes coat your face makes him spring back to life, ready to shove his cock right back down your throat.

law

law likes it messy; he loves hearing you softly choke on him while drops of saliva spill out of the edges of your mouth, he adores the inadvertent tears that well up in your eyes from his length hitting the back of your throat, and he lives for the sight of you touching yourself with your free hand, making a mess between your legs that he can't wait to dive into once you're finished.

he always says thank you after his spills his cum down your throat, hand cupping your cheek with devotion and thumb wiping the drool away from your lips. and he truly is grateful—enough so to make sure he makes you cum twice as hard when giving you something in return.

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silenceismychoir · 1 year

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oh and literally on the same day too!!! last year november 6th, we needed to win by like 3000 runs against england to qualify on nrr. it was a sign. november 6th is a cursed day for us.

#i know i keep saying im done but im still #dying inside #lol i remember being so disappointed in this team last year bc they won against england but didnt win by a big enough margin? i think?#i think its less disappointing that they lost today bc theyre just that shitty and dont qualify #it sucked to have them win their last match last year and then still not make it #but anyway #whatever #its nearly 6am and im still rambling on about this bakwaas team #bye #cricket tag #t20 wc 2022

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nickfowlerrr · 7 months

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Bucky Barnes and you get stuck in elevator for one hour. What are you two doing? 🖤 honest answers only even if they are filthy 🔥

stuck with you

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

words: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ only. smut. angst. all the feelings. unprotected sex. hint of a breeding kink. some spanking. oh some very incorrect description of an anxiety attack and how to help someone through it. i know, i know, but it's for the story lmao. uhm if i'm missing something that should be tagged pls lmk!

notes: i couldn't not write something for this and it was gonna be so smutty and then i started and then i... i dont know what happened lol. but thank you for sending this in, i know it's not a direct answer but i hope you like it <3 thank you in advance for reading and as always, comments and reblogs are always welcome and so appreciated!

"What exactly do you think slamming all the buttons will do?" he asked as he leaned against the wall of the elevator, nothing short of casual amusement lacing his voice as he watched you.

You ignored him, trying the emergency call button for the fifth time in the minute that had passed since the elevator stopped moving.

You didn't realize the change in your breathing until Bucky's hand came to rest on your arm. You flinched at his touch, having been too lost in your growing panic to notice he'd gotten closer.

"What?" you asked through a heavy, annoyed breath.

"You need to breathe, sweetheart," he instructed gently, tugging you to face him fully, pulling you away from the buttons as he did.

"I'm breathing," you snapped at him, forcing yourself to take a breath as you worked to steel your nerves. It was all in vain, though. You couldn't fight off the paranoid thoughts as they were coming through your mind too fast to even try and rationalize. "I just," you said shakily, "I ca- I can't,"

You suddenly found yourself nearly bowing over as you tried to catch a breath. Bucky helped you to sit while he kept his hold on you, his intent eyes set on you as your own squeezed shut, your hands mindlessly gripping his forearms as you tried to ground yourself.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he ordered firmly, though he waited patiently for you to follow his instructions.

You felt like you couldn't catch your breath, each one you took was too shallow and you couldn't manage to breathe in any deeper.

"Just hold your breath for a second, doll,"

You were still struggling, and the last thought on your mind was to stop breathing altogether, you were sure you'd pass out if you did. Your gasping was only growing worse as Bucky contemplated his options.

He didn't think long before he gently took your face in his hands and forced you to look at him, your eyes glassy and lips parted, desperate for air. had his heart clenching. He didn't want to see you like that, not with that fear in your eyes. He leaned into you and pressed his lips to yours, more fervently than he even meant to.

You were still against him for a moment, not moving as he pulled you closer to him. It took you a second to register what was happening. All at once, though, your mind caught up, your heart pounding in your chest only growing wilder as you let your eyes close, crawling into Bucky's lap as he held you gently, his lips still against yours. You were all together intoxicated by him, his soft but secure touch, the taste of mint and coffee on his lips, the scent of his cologne mixed with his shampoo from your shared shower earlier, it wrapped around you as your previous thoughts of peril faded into the background.

All that you could think of was him, here and now. And you in his solid lap, his thick arms wrapped around you, his hands holding your face so delicately. Your lips began to work with his as you breathed him in and let him taste you in kind.

You soon lost yourself to him completely; and then, after another long minute, you realized you once again couldn't breathe.

You broke the kiss, hungry for air just slightly more than you were for him. You let your face fall as your noses brushed and you finally were able to catch your breath.

"Huh," you huffed, suddenly remembering yourself. You peeked up at him through your lashes meekly before you murmured a soft thank you.

He smirked halfheartedly, but a little bit of sadness he couldn't hide was apparent on his face as you then moved to get off of him, not that you noticed. Your thoughts were once again getting caught in a spiral.

As you tried to move off his lap, you were stopped. Bucky held you down, his large hands gently squeezing into your soft waist, keeping you exactly where you were.

"I get you're still mad at me, sweetheart, but I'm not just gonna sit here and watch you spiral again," he said as he pulled you into him.

You slumped into his chest, letting your heaviness rest on him as you nuzzled your face into his neck.

"I'm not mad at you," you mumbled into his skin.

"Could've fooled me," he breathed a humorless laugh.

You sighed, pulling away from him slightly.

"I'm not mad. I'm just-" you cut yourself off before forcing your tongue to continue, "I'm scared."

Your eyes were glued to his chest as you spoke but the moment the admission slipped past your lips, Bucky was tilting your chin up to look you in the eyes.

"Sweetheart," he began.

"Not of you. Of me. I just... I'm not, I'm not used to this. To being loved, the way you love me. And I don't wanna lose that," you whispered as tears pricked your eyes. "I don't want you to end up feeling stuck with me. Because I'm a lot, Bucky. And I'm not easy to live with. I'm particular and I need alone time a lot of the time... and ... You just have no idea what you're inviting into your life."

"You," he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, his touch grazing your cheek as he wiped a tear from your skin. "I'm inviting you. I love you. I want you. All of it with you. Every last bit, doll."

You could see the sincerity in his eyes as he spoke and it only made you all the more worried.

"I'm not trying to pressure you, sweetheart. If you don't want to move in with me, you don't have to. If you need time, I'll wait. However long I have to," he said as his hands began to run up and down your back soothingly.

"I want to, Bucky. I do. I just don't want you to regret this."

"When are you gonna see it," he breathed as he squeezed you closer, looking up at you as he leaned back against the wall behind him.

"See what?"

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I could never regret you."

"You say that-"

"Ever."

Your eyes softened at his insistence, and deep down, you knew he meant it.

Your avoidance of an answer to his question this morning had been you trying to protect not only yourself, but him from disappointment, though it was becoming clearer and clearer that it was only hurting you both.

You were scared, but you also wanted this just as badly as he did. God, how long you'd dreamed about the day you'd wake up in Bucky's bed and not have to rush to your own apartment to get ready for work. How nice it'd be to get home from a miserable day and have him there to make things better without having to endure the twenty minute commute from his place to yours. To share a place together, your and his...

You were near burrowing yourself in his embrace, his hands still soothing up and down your back as he held you close, when you reached to grab one of his hands in yours.

You pulled away from him enough to look him in the eye.

"If you're sure,"

"I'm sure,"

"And if you ever wanna go back on it, or change your mind, I -"

"I wouldn't,"

"But if you do-"

"I won't."

There was a moment, a silent conversation between you two as you look into each other's eyes. You pressed your forehead to his, kissing him delicately before you pulled back again.

You nodded, "I'd love to move in with you, Bucky," you said with a small smile playing on your lips. Your heart soared as you watched the dopey smile that stretched onto Bucky's face before he crushed you against him. "That's all I needed to hear," he said in between kissing you everywhere he could in the position you were in. You laughed as you wiggled to sit up higher on his lap, looking down at him.

You reached a hand to brush through his hair, and as you did the elevator jolted. You caught yourself with a hand against the wall as Bucky tightened his arms around you instinctively.

You felt his warm breath against the swell of your breasts before you looked down with a raised brow. His face was right against your chest, and his eyes were now locked on your breasts as they hung in front of him, his hands grabbing at your ass while his eyes grew darker, filled with even more excitement.

"Wouldn't mind if that happened again," he said huskily.

"Odds are in your favor, you know this complex is the fucking worst," you huffed.

"All the more reason for you to move in with me," he smirked. "But ya know one good thing about these old buildings?"

"Hm?"

"They don't have cameras in the elevators," he said, smacking your ass and causing you to gasp and jolt from the strike.

He was mesmerized by the sight as he repeated his actions over and over again until you were whining and pressing your chest into his face.

"Buck," you mewled pathetically, the tingling between your thighs growing more unbearably with every slap against your ass. Each hit only getting you more wet for him.

You were seconds away from ripping your tank top off yourself but Bucky quickly pulled it off and over your head for you before his lips descended upon your breasts.

You let your head drop back in time with your hips pressing to sit fully in his lap, a moan escaping you when you felt his hard length against you. Your hands were in his hair as his hands squeezed your ample flesh, his lips fervent against your skin still.

You couldn't help yourself as you began tilting your hips over his, back and forth, your movements more urgent the more you felt him twitch beneath you.

Your bra had been tossed to the side minutes ago but you were still in your leggings while Bucky was still fully clothed.

When you tilted your hips just right, you felt his cock rub against your clothed clit and you nearly lost it completely; shoving yourself off of him to finally rid yourself of the clothing that kept you from what you really wanted. Bucky followed your lead without having to be told and got undressed in the blink of an eye. You saw his throbbing length standing erect for you and nearly salivated at the sight, your mouth parted in awe at his beauty. You swear, you'd never get over it. Every little thing about him, from his scars to his own stretch marks, every bit of his was beautiful. And you smiled as you saw him admiring you the very same way, that wonderstruck look in his eyes you'd never get used to. Your patience was wearing down the longer you took, though, and quickly, you climbed back down into his lap before lining his cock up to your slick entrance.

You slowly sank down on him, moans from both of you filling the elevator at the sensation.

"Oh, fuck, doll," he moaned while groping your hips. You started moving up and down his length, slowly as you enjoyed the stretch of him inside of you, wanting to feel each and every inch of his thick cock as it filled you up.

"Mmm," you hummed a mindless moan, throwing your head back in pleasure as Bucky took a pert nipple into his mouth, squeezing and kneading your breast in his big hand. "Feels good, Buck," you breathed, slamming your hips down on his cock, earning a deep throated growl from him.

Suddenly his hands were back on your wide set hips, his fingers digging into the plushy flesh there as he began fucking up into you himself. You were helpless as you keened at the feeling, gripping his shoulders to keep yourself upright. "Oh god, Bucky, please," you whined, pushing your hips back down to meet his thrusts, "please, please, please,"

"You close, sweetheart?" he panted. "I can feel you gripping my cock, baby, fuck," his eyes squeezed tight as he nearly snarled the curse of pleasure.

"Gonna fuckin' fill you up and then you're really gonna be stuck with me,"

"Bucky," you gasped, though it came out with a moan.

"That's it, sweetheart, take my fucking cock, just like that, doll. Just like that," he punctuated each word with another snap of his hips into yours, rolling into you and rubbing your clit deliciously with his every move.

You were both panting, a sheen of sweat on both of you as he fucked you perfectly, the only other sounds to be heard were of your twin moans and the slapping sounds of skin on skin, the salacious squelching of his dick drilling into you over and over.

His thumb found your clit and drew tight circles over the sensitive bud as he felt your walls tightening around him, wanting to keep him inside of you. It was almost blinding, the way you were hit with your orgasm. Your muscles tightened as Bucky continued to fuck you through the high, unintelligible moans and whimpers of his name and cries intermingled as the waves of pleasure crashed over you over and over again.

You found yourself on your back in the blink of an eye as Bucky continued to pummel into your tight heat, deep strokes along your velvety walls as he chased his own high, holding himself above you as he did.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna come, baby, I-" his words turned into a deep groan as his pace faltered, soon morphing into heady moans when you felt his warm spurts filling you up as he came inside of you.

His thrusts slowed as did your breathing until he slowly pulled out of you, laying himself down next to you and pulling you into him. He kissed your forehead as you melted into his embrace.

"I mean it, ya know. You're the one who's gonna be stuck with me, sweetheart. I'm not goin' anywhere," he promised with a simper. "Not without you."

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes drabble #asks #anon #thank you for the inspo!! <3 #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky x plus size reader #bucky x reader

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akoyaxs · 5 months

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Tì'eylan ✮ Pairing: Aonung x fem!human!reader ✮ Trope: Friends to lovers ✮ Word Count: 16k ✮ Tags: mentions of sexual partners, talk of sex, size difference, fluff, Aonung's pov (kinda mega horny for her), jealously, lap sitting, accidental stimulation, masturbation (m), slight slight angst if you squint, kissing, biting, munchiness, coming untouched, p in v, nicknames (Aonung calls reader tsawksyul, which means sunlily) ✮ A/N: so I kinda went a little overboard with this one - idk what to tell you - i had a lot to say and ngl had a lot of daydreams during boring classes that i didnt have time to turn into writing till now (>﹏<) Also lol, I'm on holiday w my family rn so writing this at times was quite risky but anyway, HOPE YOU ENJOY MY DARLINGS, I REALLY LIKED WRITING THIS ONE <3

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Never in a million years would you have suspected that you’d end up close friends with Aonung.

When you met him, shielded by the somewhat brotherly protection of Neteyam and Lo’ak, Aonung had been indifferent to you at the very best, and taunting and infuriating for the first few weeks in Awa’atlu.

All it took was a few skirmishes, several unorthodox verbal arguments, and one fucked up altercation with other humans for Aonung to get off his high horse of hazing the newbies.

You weren’t sure if it was Neteyam’s near-death and your inconsolable distress over it, or the closeness of you getting nearly kidnapped by the Recoms (the “pretty traitor” as the had called you left little to imagination of what sort of fates you would have met with the RDA), but there on that empty beach, watching the sun set in the safety of the village bay, left alone or maybe even forgotton, you had found his ridiculously tall form approaching.

Aonung sat slowly and silently beside your smaller, disconcerted figure. After a wordless moment, in which you continued to absently stare out at the empty horizon, he had placed a soft, woven blanket over you.

It was a little rough, but of course he didn’t mean to be. Moreover, it had just been a wordless loan of something quite too large for your human figure – so much so you were practically drowning in it – but the weight was warm and reassuring, as, surprisingly, was his still, quiet presence hulking beside you.

“Thank you.”

Your whisper – feeble and weak even to your own ears – would have been lost in the breeze and lapping waves, but you later reminded yourself of na’vi’s superior senses, as he let out a small sound of acknowledgment, silently noting how shaken you still were.

“Are you alright?” he had asked, following your unspoken rule and also quietly watching the ocean, and more importantly, keeping his gaze from your pale, unnerved face.

“Yep.”

And that had been just that.

No more words had been spoken, not so much as a glance or gesture was offered, but something had changed as the unlikely pair of you sat in ponderous silence, watching the gilded horizon.

You never really discussed the hiccup at your initial meeting (and the period that had followed before friendship was forged), but you never needed to. Aonung had wordlessly conveyed his apology, as had you accepted it.

It is an uncomplicated friendship; time spent together is full of teasing and laughter and often petty argument, and time spent apart is to gather new material to discuss, to scheme up new ways to make the other’s life an amusing hell, and of course to just fuck around.

Which leads to one fact; Aonung is a slut.

You could tell it from the moment you saw him, even before knowing his desirable position in the clan or noting the lovesick-lustful looks the village girls couldn’t tear off their faces when he was within eyesight. It’s not just obvious through his physical appearance (although, admittedly, that is the work of the lord), but through his walk and talk and everything in between.

Even before your friendship, you knew Aonung was off with a different girl every few days, and said girl would always then labour under the deulusion she alone captured the lustful gaze of her future Olo’eyktan – something that always reminded you not to fall for your friend in his hopelessly infuriating slutiness.

It came as no surprise to you when your theory of you friend being Pandora’s biggest slut was proved to be quite true, so you aren’t entirely sure why the outlines of your love life came as quite the shock to the Metkayina man.

“Tell me,” he says with a small, ponderous frown, as though something had just occurred to him, though you knew this look perfectly well to guess what he was about to say was not some casual thought that slid nonchalantly into his mind. “How have you been taking care of yourself?”

You look wearily up from your beadings to squint at him – all stretched out and full of lazy curiousity on the woven mat of your marui. This is how you often spent the warm afternoons in Awa’atlu; you beading or mixing herbs or cooking or something actually useful, while your friend bothers you.

You were still too weary of actually swimming with people, surrounded by beautiful, tall, slim, lithe na’vi girls, and although Aonung had tried to convince you a million times, those bikinis you brought with you remained secretly stowed away deep in the darkest parts of your marui.

Sometimes at night, you would slip out the walkway of your marui into the cool ocean below, but careful that there’s no one around to see. At least it meant na’vi were absolutely shocked to say the least when they saw just how curvy human bodies could get without your flowy clothing.

“What are you on about?” you sigh. “I’m perfectly healt-”

“I meant physically,” Aonung says casually. “Maintaining yourself sexually.”

Oh.

Your friend did have a habit of being carelessly blunt in his manners, but that was one thing that managed to take you by surprise.

“What do you think?” you laugh, throwing off your disconcertion and far too used to your friend - and all na’vi really - disregard for topics very much taboo for humans to be thrown off by the quite personal question.

“Well…” he shifts closer to gage your expression, a small furrow creasing his brow. “You are the only tawtute here, and I’m sure even your kind have sexual needs that must be met. So how…”

“Do I cope when I get horny?” you finished, raising your brows and wrinkling your nose at him. Aonung nods, throat looking a little tight but otherwise unbothered by the delicacy a conversation like this should typically have. “What sort of answer are you looking for, Aonung?”

He blinks, then shakes his head in a puppyish way and you grin.

“I don’t just take care of me myself, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you answer elusively.

You never told Aonung the truth. The truth that you have no shortage of Metkayina men offering to deal with your sexual desires, lost in their own curiosity of human-na’vi sexual experimentation.

And you’d be lying if you pretended you weren’t attracted to them. How could you not be?

Na’vi were nine to ten feet of practically pure muscle, cloaked in beautiful, smooth blue skin and glimmering with pretty glowing tahnì. They were slim and wire, agile and graceful in their movements and talented beyond anything a human could ever possibly possess.

So, discreetly, you would indulge in all sorts of capers. It was, admittedly, a lot of fun.

Sometimes you’d be offered pretty little gifts, clumsily complimented on your human looks and talents, or even simply carried away in heated moments of pleasure and experimentation.

But here was Aonung, nearly your best friend at this point, who just heard your vague answer to his curious question.

You can physically see the moment the connotation of your words sinks into his thick skull, and his eyes widen large as Pandora and his lips part in shock.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” you grin, flicking him on the shoulder. “You didn’t expect me to sit all tight and pretty and alone while practically stranded on an island of mega hot people, did you?”

Aonung looks as though he very much did expect that, or at least the thought of you fucking other members of his clan had certainly never crossed his mind. In fact, he looks nothing short of stupefied as he stares at you.

“Who?” he demands, an unmistakable scowl settling over his face.

“Really?” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “Like I’d tell you.”

“Why not?” he asks sullenly, muscles tense and jaw clenched.

“Because I know you, Aonung,” you smile. “And I know how you act around Tsireya with Lo’ak, and I don’t need your stupid ass scaring away my possible companions.”

“Companions,” he grunts with derisive amusement, before his scowl fixes once again and he furrows his brow once more. “You do know I do not see you as a sister, right?”

“Yeah well… don’t tell me that if I share who I’ve been with that you won’t get mad at them.”

Aonung pauses, and you can see he recognises your point; at the slightest mention of a name, Aonung would be up with the guy pinned up bruised and bloodied.

“So you like na’vi then?” Aonung questions. “Even though we’re double your height and could throw you twenty feet?”

“On the contrary,” you say with a sly, amusing grin, “that’s exactly what I like.”

When Aonung’s face slackens a little in shock, you laugh openly and shake your head.

“But who cares if I like na’vi- they’re hot and muscly, so it’s totally justified in my opinion!” you say with a wide, shameless grin. “The real question is why the guys were attracted to me – if humans are so small and weak looking or whatever else you giants think of us, then why would they want to fuck me?”

“That really is a whole other question,” Aonung sighs, rolling his eyes as though you’re being stupid. “But be honest, what do you think of me-”

He’s cut off by your pillow smacking him heavily in the face, and resurfaces to find your little frown a foot away from his.

“Hey, I was honest with you,” you scowl. Lie.

But you weren’t about to admit the truth – that your irritating friend is just about the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. You try to put it from your mind; those ten feet of pure muscle sculpted to glorious perfection only masked his stupidity and secret superpower of infuriating you with the slightest of comments or even glances.

“And what do you keep in that little book of yours then?” Aonung grins, looking infuriatingly smug.

You set down your beading with slight annoyance now, and you frown at your friend. He’s sat up now, propped back on his hands, head tilted to stare at you with that dangerous gleam that makes you want to question everything, every tone and muscle in his body practically glowing in the afternoon light.

“What book?” you ask wearily, forcing your eyes away from his body.

“You know,” he snickers. “The one you quickly stash away when you see me coming, that you think no one knows about? The little one you hide somewhere in this-”

“If you ever read that Aonung,” you threaten, suddenly on your feet with your face flushed deep deep red. God, what were you thinking trying to keep a diary? You’re an adult! “I swear to bloody mary that I will castrate you and burn everything I chop off.”

Aonung just chuckles, and you scowl.

“If you don’t want me going back to thinking you’re an absolute dick again- leave it.”

And finally he does, reluctantly.

All afternoon you can see him itching to question you more about it, burning with the desire to find out who you had been with, still shocked by the revelation that you fucked around with people in his clan, and he never even knew.

But he knows better than to push you, so he stays quiet, watching you work quietly.

When the sun sets and Kiri drops by to offer you eat with her and Rotxo, you say a quick goodbye to Aonung, who nods and leaves.

“What’s up with him?” Kiri asks, raising her brows at Aonung’s fading back, which is unmistakably tense. “What did you do to him?”

“He just found out about my romping around,” you shrug. “And he-”

“He what?” Kiri gawks, freezing in her steps so you smack into her and instantly fall back onto the ground. “Oh sorry- but YOU TOLD HIM?”

“Yes…?” you say slowly, confused why she’s so shocked. “He’s my friend.”

“So is Lo’ak, so is Neteyam,” Kiri points out. “But you aren’t telling them that you’re going around with-”

“That’s different,” you say quickly. “Lo’ak and Tey are like my brothers, and Aonung… is not.”

“Right,” Kiri says unconvinced.

There’s an awkward moment of silence in which she’s clearly waiting for you to say more.

“He’s infuriating,” you finally burst out.

“Yes he is,” Kiri agrees. She continues in her pointed silence as you move into her marui, until you finally can’t take it anymore.

“Fine!” you snap, face flushed. “He’s absolutely irritating in every way, and now he’s suddenly all caring about what I do in my own time with other guys? WE AREN’T EVEN A THING-”

“Are you sure about that?” Rotxo grins from the other side. “Just think about the way he acts when you’re around.”

“Annoying and cocky?” you huff, but you know what he means.

“Come on,” Kiri sighs, shaking her head at you with affection, “don’t tell me you’re this oblivious all of a sudden. What happened to my friend who used to have half the Omatikaya wrapped around her little finger, who could charm even the coldest of warriors? Where did all your psychicness go?”

“That’s not a word,” you grumble, hiding your unease with semantics.

“Okay enough,” Kiri sighs, pulling you up from where you had just comfortably settled on the floor and dragging you out to the entrance. “No more obliviousness.”

“Where are you taking me?” you moan, lazily allowing her to drag you off through the village, Rotxo trailing contentedly and obediently behind his mate.

“To get you changed,” she says carelessly. “We’re going out.”

Aonung wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting when he asked you that question. But he sure as fuck wasn’t prepared to hear that his little tawtute was getting her way around the clan.

You were his friend. Once even friend had been a loose term to describe your relationship, but he would be lying if he hadn’t know that from the moment he laid eyes of your small figure – barely even half the height of the Sullys as they landed in Awa’atlu with your curious eyes and strange clothing – that you were his.

But after some time when the two of you had warmed to one another, he had realised that he did not see you in a way that was even remotely platonic.

The reasoning for that was probably that he saw you everywhere; your face, your small hands, your little body.

On nights spent with various other girls, he found his eyes closing and his mind imagining it was you splayed out beneath him, your pretty little face twisted with the lewdest of moans. When, eventually, he gave up on trying to fuck these lustful profanities into other girls, cock in hand in the privacy of sheltered coves or his own marui, he would long for it to be your hand wrapped around his length, to feel your lips brushing over every inch of his body, sinking his fangs into your smooth, soft skin.

He tried to tell himself, all the rest of that afternoon which he spent fuming around his marui before the festivities of that night, that it wasn’t the fact that you were with other guys that was bothering him. You were a free woman, free to do what you liked, free to spend your time on other men.

But on the other hand, the men of his clan were of his clan.

They were Aonung’s people - not just in a metaphorical sense of belonging - they were not as free to do as they liked when Aonung would one day lead them. And they should damn well know better than to touch you.

They had no license to have you, touch you, even look at you.

Had Aonung not made it clear enough - even if you seemed completely oblivious to it - that you were his?

Sure, he made not have had you in that purely carnal aspect that you apparently had shared with worthless spineless skxawngs unfit to be in your very presence, but the way he acted around you, the gifts he brought to you, the way he protected you with all the ferocity boiling within him, even the way his scent lingers on your skin when he can’t be near you (even if your tawtute nose couldn’t smell it) marks you as if not his, then at least definitely untouchable.

So what were these shameless, perverted idiots playing at?

They, more than anyone, should know how Aonung can get when he sets his mind to something. And that one is you, and he’s not about to let anyone else dare lay so much a finger on your smaller body ever again. He’s already cursing himself for not realising all this sooner, letting you waste your time with men could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve you. Which is why – when he sees you next, across the fire at a party – Aonung doesn’t take any chances.

It's a pretty typical Metkayina gathering, full of young warriors, hunters, village girls and other various clan members. Flasks of unilpay are being passed around and the air is rich with loud laughter, conversation, and other various drunken atrocities. The beach – cool in the clear night breeze – is basked in the balmy, warm glow of a bonfire. Sparks are flying gracefully up; flaming glimmers among the silver stars of the heavens.

“What were you thinking?” he demands in a low voice, striding straight up to Rotxo and grabbing his friend’s arm to face him. “Why is she here?”

“Kiri thought it would be good for her to come out for a bit,” Rotxo shrugs. Aonung scoffs, far too used to his best friend’s continual obedience to whatever Kiri does.

“I thought you were just going to have dinner, have a little chat, you know?” Aonung grumbles, looking away to scan the party, making sure you were far on the other side and alone with Kiri. “But now you bring her here?”

Rotxo settles back, looking slightly amused amidst his dawning understanding, and Aonung’s hand slowly falls from its tight grip around his arm.

“And what is so terrible about her being here?” Rotxo counters. “She’s been hanging around the village for ages, she’s been to these parties before. What’s your problem now?”

Aonung growls low under his breath. Frustration is starting to course through him. Rotxo knows what the answer is – what Aonung’s deal is, why he cares, why his gaze can’t seem to stop drifting towards you, but he’s waiting for the words to be spoken.

Instead, with a small huff of exasperation, Aonung pushes past Rotxo to approach you.

Through that short conversation that seemed an eternity, Aonung had not missed all the glances snuck covertly in your direction, shot from the corner of eyes and over shoulders and between the flickering flames separating you from most of the festivities.

You had changed since the afternoon, Aonung notices.

He didn’t quite understand tawtute customs, particularly your strange clothes that frustratingly covered so much of your body that na’vi clothing would usually be displaying with confidence and adoration, but he had spent enough time with you to know he had never seen you wear something like this.

He would have definitely remembered seeing you like this.

It’s hard to describe when the style is from a completely different species, but the thought that first crosses his mind is black. It was the first thing he notices after all, the black material cloaking over your body, brushing lightly over your soft skin.

You’ve worn things vaguely in this style before (dresh… cress… dress or something) but they had all been long and flowy and beautiful, yes, but this was so much more than that. It was stupid, actually, that only a change of outfit has Aonung’s heart seizing in his chest, throat bobbing and jaw clenched at the sight of you standing there, unilpay in one hand, the other moving to push your hair from your face.

It barely even covers your legs, and your arms and shoulders are left completely bare except for a wispy black strand that winds over your skin to vainly hold it up from your breasts. From Aonung’s view of you, he feels like just watching you is sinful. It’s wrong, to be seeing you like this, to be thinking these thoughts of you, but he can’t pull away from his view.

He had always known tawtute bodies were different to na’vi (all slim and muscular), and sometimes he found himself pleading that the next day your clothing would not be as flowy and coveraging as it always was, but he’d always beat back those sinful desires with the reminder of your positions.

But now, with the smooth skin of your thighs and slim shoulders and the ample curves of your body on full, glorious display, Aonung wonders how he ever managed to go without seeing you like this before.

You are always so small to him, but every curve of your body, in your thighs and hips and breasts and fuck.

Aonung stifles a low groan at all the thoughts flooding his filthy mind, and wrenches his gaze from the glorious glow of your soft skin under the dancing light of the fire.

And then, in several unconscious moments where Aonung has no clue what he’s doing, in several long strides to get him by your side without the pain of seconds apart from you, he’s beside you. You look up at him through your long dark lashes, and he also notices your lips look plumper and shinier than usual; the smooth rosiness gleaming tantalisingly up at him.

Not for the first time, he has to swallow a furious desire to sink his fangs lightly into your silky lips, and he immediately darts his gaze away – the method he always uses in vain attempts to stem those filthy, forbidden, longings.

“What are you doing here?” Aonung asks coldly, staring down at you from his metre above.

“Same as you,” you shrug. “I’m here to have fun.”

Aonung is not happy to hear that.

His glare moves straight to Kiri, who’s watching his displeased reaction with mingled interest and amusement. Obviously, her and Rotxo have some stupid ulterior motive or plot or something, but he won’t have any of it, not if it risks other guys getting anywhere near you.

But he can’t think of anything to do. If he tells you to leave then you’d doubtless shout at him and be in that pouty, pissed mood that you sometimes get into. And he can’t just flat out voice the truth, not with this many people standing around, not during one of the most unromantic settings he could imagine with tipsy warriors and a blazing fire.

From the moment he stood beside you though, the gazes moved away. Aonung’s pleased to find less and less eyes roving quickly over you, and the ones that do are quickly averted when he scowls at them.

Just as he thinks maybe it’ll be over – that no one will bother you anymore – people start to dance. Aonung had been friends with you long enough to know this was your favourite part of any festivity. You loved to watch the sway and undulation and grace of the na’vi in their movements, the beautiful delicacy of the clothing gleaming under the stars and tails coiling and moving in timely leisure.

And he also knows it will surely be a matter of time before you want to join in or worse, someone else asks you to dance.

So he sits gracelessly down next to you, on that log you’ve perched yourself on top of. The weight of his body suddenly seated beside you makes your little body jolt a little, but you grit your teeth with a small eye roll and discreetly dig your fingers into the bark. He spreads out a little, ensuring there is no more room on the log, with you seated between Kiri’s slim, tall figure and his own broad, muscular body.

Kiri certainly doesn’t miss this gesture (or the meaning behind it), but she hides her small smile with a sip from her coconut. You, on the other hand, are so entranced by the dancing that you don’t notice when Aonung spreads his legs a little wider so his muscular thigh is brushing against your small, soft, slightly squishy one he wordlessly loves so much.

You continue to watch with wordless awe, and Aonung sits, contented with the fact that no one has dared approach yet.

Yet when some stupid warrior – Tsu’kae, Aonung thinks his name is – blantantly turns to stare at you with shameless, disgustingly lustful interest, Aonung decides he has to step it up. Has he not made it fucking clear enough that you are his?

Slowly so he doesn’t attract too much of your attention, Aonung leans back and slips his arm to rest on his hands on either side of his body. This way, you’re closed in between his firmly planted hand and his own body, without any space on the log for anyone else.

When you finally notice Aonung’s stretched out into your space, you grumble faintly about his stupid giant body and his lack of care for personal space, but you settle back to rest your head lightly against his arm behind you.

Aonung tries not to tense, completely unprepared for your comfort against him, thrown of by your soft hair cascading and your face resting gently against his arm, lips inches away from brushing his skin yet your breath ghosts warm and present against him.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper faintly to him, and he tries to ignore the fact that each word is whispered nearly right against his veins, as though your voice is coursing straight to his heart. You shiver lightly beside him.

“Yeah,” he replies in a low voice, throat feeling quite tight and strained; it isn’t exactly easy to scare off any other guys when he’s already about to explode just having you this close.

He feels slightly stupid; you’re watching the dances with awe and appreciation and a distant melancholy, desirous longing, and of course, he’s watching you. With equal ferocity, just excelling past with unbearable, flaming tendrils of frustrated craving snaking through his veins, seizing his heart and freezing his mind.

It’s only when he finally manages to tear his gaze away from you, with the same effort it takes to fell an akula, that he notices Tsu’kae is no longer on the sand amidst the dancing Metkayina. In fact, he’s on the outskirts, conspicuously sliding closer with slimy, transparent steps to get closer to you.

With a fierce stab of selfishness for what is his, Aonung finds his arm – the one caging you beside him – sweeping closer and bringing you with it, so you’re gently slid along the long till you’re pressed against his solid side.

You squint up at him with slight suspicious confusion, and he almost misses that little tense, gleam in your eyes. He can also hear the gentle, warm beats of your heart pick up, but he puts all the possibilities of reasonings of that from his mind to watch with cold irritation as Tsu’kae finally makes his way besides you.

“May I sit here?” he asks, glancing dubiously at the log.

Aonung, with a sudden desire to kick himself for his carelessness, realises to late that in pulling you towards him, he mistakenly left space on the log for someone to sit.

Unfortunately, Tsu’kae misses Aonung’s glower, which was a clear dismissal of the inferior warrior. You, finally, seemed to have some tiny inkling of the situation, because you glance briefly up at Aonung as though asking if Tsu’kae can join you.

The clear answer was no, but Aonung knew you well enough to guess that your unfortunate habit of masterfully ignoring unspoken orders may be about to be practised. Instead, he settled himself on a much more enjoyable option.

“Sure,” he rumbles to Tsu’kae, who looks a little startled, as though he wasn’t expecting to get personally addressed by Aonung.

Before he can sit beside you on the log, Aonung’s reaching over to lift you up and settle you comfortably in his lap. You let out a small squeak of surprise to find yourself suddenly lifted as though you weigh nothing. Tsu’kae watches with mingled fascination and strange terror at Aonung’s plain message – you cannot have her.

Yet maybe Aonung didn’t completely think this plan through.

You’d never sat on his lap before, and although he’d often thought about it, how your squishy thighs and curvy hips would feel resting softly over his own would feel, how light and small and delicate you’d be against him, this was completely different.

He can feel everything about you. Your thighs – almost completely bare as the fabric of your clothing hitches all the way up to your ass – are pressed against his own, your skin all warm and soft and so velvety, deliciously smooth. Your body is still slightly tense despite your feigned nonchalance, and he can feel the tightness of your body resting on his.

And he can smell you. It’s warm, just a comforting, familiar scent that he spends all day breathing in, memorising and filing away into the back of his mind where, in the shelter and privacy of his own marui in those helplessly longing night, he can build up that image of you in your imagined lewd actions for him and to him. There’s something over the top of it, something new and flowery you must have just applied for tonight.

He has to fight a physical urge to just bury his entire face in the warm of your neck – your soft hair falling around him – and simply scenting you to the point everything else just completely ceases to exist and with his eyes closed and heart thumping, all that surrounds him is you and your warmth.

It takes Aonung a moment to remind himself where he is, surrounded by everyone, sitting beside the still-gaping Tsu’kae. To remind himself that it isn’t just the two of you alone, and especially that you are only friends, and it would probably be a little surprising if he finally just succumbed to all the filthy desires that suddenly seem a thousand times stronger than usual.

You’re finally relaxing on his lap, muscles untensing and breath coming in soft nature. The only downside is that when you loosen a little and stop sitting like there’s a splint to your spine, the soft curve of your ass, barely even covered by your clothing now, settles inches away from his crotch.

Aonung has a small surge of panic when his blood rushes south, but he just masks his soft groan as a hum of appreciation for the dance.

Eywa, he really didn’t think this through.

Never once had he taken the warnings of his mother, father, sister and basically the whole rest of the clan to heart – never once accepted that one day, his impulsivity might have consequences.

But the thought of what you might do when you realise how hard your so called “friend” is by you simply sitting on his lap is too much to bear.

What if you think he’s some crazy sort of desperate perv? What if you never see him the same, and everything is ruined and awkward and dangerous between the two of you? What if you tell Neteyam and Lo’ak and they beat the absolute shit out of him for acting like this?

Fuck.

From the corner of his eye – Aonung’s too scared to move enough to properly turn his head – he can see Tsu’kae all awkward and stupid and helpless. It should now be quite obvious his position in this situation; that he has no place here, anywhere near you.

Now getting over your surprise of being suddenly nestled in your friend’s lap, you’re starting to settle back. You’ve rested yourself against his chest, and he grits his teeth, jaw clenched and fangs sinking lightly into his lip.

Your hair is pillowing your head lightly where it rests, barely even at his chest and right below the fang of his necklace. Your back – nearly completely bare with the low cut of your soft clothing – is settled firmly against his abs, and the warmth your skin on his is oddly comforting, mollifying his slight ferocity.

The soft, sweet scent of you is closer now, more obvious below whatever that other flowery smell you’re wearing is, and Aonung tries his best to keep his breathing even so you won’t notice how he’s breathing in your scent.

But trying to act like just the proximity and scent and feel of you isn’t getting him hard is more difficult than it looks, and Aonung strains his brain to think of ways to delay the inevitable of when you finally notice the ever-growing tent in his tewng.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Tsu’kae offers after a moment of tense silence that you don’t seem to notice. Aonung wonders faintly if your human senses just don’t pick up this sort of tension, or maybe you really are just infuriatingly, endearingly oblivious.

“Yes, thank you,” you say, shifting to give him a little smile.

A fierce stab of strange jealously blossoms like fire inside of Aonung, suddenly scorching his veins and he has a sudden desire to smack that returned, almost-shy-to-hide-his horniness smirk off Tsu’kae’s face. He probably would have, had you not leaned back against him and shimmied your soft ass to lay right over the ridge of his hardened cock.

Aonung gives a sudden jolt, nearly tossing you unceremoniously from his lap and even more mortifyingly - accidentally grinding his tented, straining tewng against the curve of your ass.

There’s a moment in which Aonung thinks you are about to scream at him, turn and curse him out for his lewd state. He can hear your heart pick up suddenly, see the tips of your small, roundish ears go slightly pink, watch a flush creep along back of your neck.

“Do you mind?” you grumble. “If you’re going to try cockblocking me, at least don’t nearly throw me around. I was perfectly comfortable, you bumbling skxawng.”

Aonung blinks in sluggish silence, your words sinking into his brain till he realises with an overwhelming surge or relief that you didn’t notice. Eywa, he’s never been so thankful of the simplicity of human anatomical function.

“I’m not trying to cock block you,” he says instead, and you scoff.

“Please,” you say stoutly, and Aonung can just imagine you rolling your eyes in that amused way you always do. “You really have no idea how conspicuous you are, dumbass.”

“I am not,” Aonung says with a frown, ignoring the human name he doesn’t understand. “Besides, you could do much better than the likes of Tsu’kae.”

“Really?” you say coolly. Aonung suddenly can’t picture what your face looks like; your tone is completely unreadable as though you’re trying to make it even, hiding whatever you’re actually thinking right now. “And what is so terrible about Tsu’kae?”

“He’s dim-witted,” Aonung points out. “Slow, unreliable, terrible at spear throwing-”

“Ah yes,” you interrupt, “everything I look for in a hook-up; his spear throwing abilities.”

“And he’s obviously just horny,” Aonung adds, ignoring the now painful tent in his tewng and the heavy irony of his words. He looks pointedly across the party, and you follow his gaze to see Tsu’kae standing with his friends, drinking heavily from a flask, getting a few hyping smacks from his mates as they no doubt discuss you.

“So someone would just have to be horny to fuck me?” you huff, turning your neck to glare at him. Aonung bites down a small groan as you accidentally shift on his crotch. “There’s nothing else endearing about me, it would just depend on their arousal?”

“No,” Aonung says quickly, but your scowl is deepening the longer it takes for him to find the right words – ones that don’t give away his own… excitement. “There is nothing wrong with you-”

“Who said anything about there being something wrong with me?” you snap, brows furrowing and face now torn between fury and something he can’t quite make out.

“No one- nothing- what?” Aonung stammers, confused at why you’re suddenly so upset. “You are just far too good for Tsu’kae. He does not deserve your time.”

“Then who does?” you ask sullenly, slightly folding into yourself, yet you still don’t pull away from your seat in his lap. “What about Sokzu-”

“He is arrogant,” Aonung shoots the idea down.

“What about Ta’ru-”

“Incompetent,” Aonung interrupts again.

“Or Kayo-”

“Lazy-”

“Zäki?”

“Seriously,” Aonung says firmly, now frowning too. “Do you seriously think any of these skxawngs are worth your interest?”

Your mouth twitches at his words, though he still has no fucking clue what you’re thinking.

“What are you trying to say, Aonung?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he says truthfully.

You’re still looking up at him, eyes large and shimmering in the light from the fire and scattered stars. Aonung swallows, gaze darting quickly down to your glossy lips before fixing back on your face. He can’t look away.

“I brought you unilpay,” a voice interrupts.

You both turn to see Tsu’kae standing there, looking a little rumpled and disorientated. It couldn’t have been more obvious that he’s drunk now, and Aonung doesn’t fail to notice your nose scrunch for an instant before you smooth out your face and take it with a small smile and a thank you.

Completely oblivious and obviously stupid, Tsu’kae continues to stand awkwardly, before he seems to gather enough courage to ask, “Would you like to come for a walk, tawtute?”

Instantly, Aonung’s blood has turned to ice. He doesn’t even look at you before snapping, “She’s good.”

Tsu’kae’s face falls in a small frown, and he, – stupidly – drops his own flask on the sand to clench his fists.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he slurs. “I was talking to her.”

“And I gave you an answer,” Aonung counters, eyes narrowing at the disrespect this meager warrior is displaying. “She’s not going to go anywhere with you.”

Again, Tsu’kae fails to pull himself together and show the proper respect. He steps closer, face pulled into a little frown as he raises his brows at Aonung.

“And what are you going to do to stop her?” he leers. “If she wants to come?”

“Do you want to go?” Aonung asks you, a small furrow between his brows as he looks down at you. You’re all wide-eyed and wordless, eyes darting between Aonung and Tsu’kae who scowls.

“Of course she want-”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Aonung hisses through gritted teeth. “Do you want to go with him?”

Your lips part. You don’t seem to have any answer to give, and you just stare blankly at Aonung, still seated in his lap. Finally, Tsu’kae’s drunken patience seems to have run out, and his hand closes around your tiny wrist.

“Come on taw-”

You’re no sooner pulled helplessly off Aonung than he’s on his feet, then finding his fist sinking satisfyingly into Tsu’ake’s jaw. The stupid warrior lets out a surprised grunt and stumbles back, dragging your little figure with his weight.

“Let her go,” Aonung says coolly, reaching to grab your other arm.

It’s a little awkward, and you’re wincing slightly at the grip of each arm clutched by the two men. People are starting to turn and stare now, and you’re struggling to free yourself.

“Now,” Aonung adds.

Reluctantly, Tsu’kae lets go of your wrist with a frustrated huff, and you flinch at the angry red mark on your skin from where he touched you. Aonung’s heart thuds irately at the mark, and he gently pushes you behind him.

“Touch her again,” Aonung hisses, stepping closer to hide your nervously watching figure, “and I kill you.”

Tsu’kae just laughs, before making to shove Aonung backwards. Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t shift in the slightest, and Tsu’kae stumbles into Aonung, who grips the skxawng by the back of his neck. Instantly, Tsu’kae winces away, averting his eyes and vainly trying to get away.

“Pathetic,” Aonung says coolly, pulling him up to study him further. “You actually thought you’d get to have time with her.”

Tsu’kae lets out a small hiss and brings his fist up to smack into Aonung’s cheek. It isn’t particularly painful, but a blow is a blow and Aonung tosses him to the side. He slams unceremoniously into the sand, where he’s met with small stifled laughter and disapproving glances. You’re still gaping at Aonung, who gently kneels beside you.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. You nod, eyes raking over his face before your fingertips reach out to trace lightly over the mark of Tsu’kae’s laughable punch. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

No one else makes a noise, but Aonung can feel all eyes on your retreating backs as he leads you away. He can still feel the burn of disbelieving attention on him as the party fades away and the woven walkways of the village come into view. More importantly, he can feel eyes on you, and, desperate to make sure you don’t feel uneasy, he places a wide hand on your back to lightly steer you in front, out of the way of prying eyes.

When he drops you off at your marui, it’s with a strange ache in his chest.

You look tired and the gloss of your lips is nearly completely gone now. You smile up at him at the entrance, but when he turns to leave, he can sense your drunkenness. Not for the first time, he curses how strong na’vi alcohol is to you, and before you know what’s happening, he’s turned back and steered you all the way into your marui and laid you down on the bed.

“Here,” he instructs, handing you a small flask of water. “Drink this before you sleep.”

“You’re looking after me,” you smile stupidly. Aonung wants to kick himself for not noticing how tipsy you had been in the distraction of everything, but he just rolls his eyes at your dopiness.

“Well, I didn’t go to all this trouble tonight to just leave you like this,” Aonung says wearily, reaching for one of those black stretchy things you use for your hair and clumsily tying it back for you. “Eywa, you’re just going to have to sleep in this.”

“I wanted to look pretty,” you mumble softly, a small furrow forming between your brows.

Aonung could have sworn those words could have punched the breath out of him – and he fights down a desire to tell you just how pretty you look, how you always look.

Instead, he just gently pats your forehead and whispers, “Just get some sleep.”

You nod obediently, never taking your eyes off his face as he fusses about, straightening your bed, making sure there’s water beside you. But when he turns to leave, you softly whisper out his name.

Aonung turns back. You don’t say anything, just continuing to stare at him. It’s a tense moment of silence, until you finally sigh.

“Goodnight,” you whisper. Aonung doesn’t reply, just giving you a soft smile.

It’s not until Aonung’s back in his own marui, flopping down onto his bed with a groan, does he remember exactly what had happened.

It’s filthy and humiliating, that the second he remembers the moment – the scent and the proximity and the feel of you seated in his lap – his tewng is growing stranglingly tight once more.

This has happens much more than Aonung would ever readily admit. He tries his utmost to not even think about it. But once more, he can’t help but palm himself lightly through the thin fabric of his tewng that has put up quite the struggle tonight.

Eywa, just the thought of you at that party – hair flowing over your bare back, the glow of your skin and the softness of your thighs, breathing in your warm sweet scent, the same one that’s now slowly fading from his skin that you had been so gloriously pressed against.

Fuck.

Really, who is this hurting? he justifies himself as he impatiently tears away his tewng. It’s just to take the edge off. It doesn’t mean anything.

Filthy. Lewd. Wrong.

But he can’t bring himself to process all the copious issues of what he’s doing when everything about you is fresh in his mind, stuck in his mind, and using that young horny man logic that dubiously validates each of these moments, he lets himself sink into those coarse imaginations.

There’s a million of them, layered on top of one another, flooding and racing through his mind.

Ones in which you’re squirming under him, ones in which your soft thighs are nestled tightly around his face. Ones with your head thrown back as you top him, ones where you’re arched against the floor, tears streaming down your sweet, pretty little face as his hips rut into your own.

When he accidentally tightens his grip around himself, he imagines just how much better your hand would feel around his length, all small and silky and smooth.

There’s something just so filthy about this.

You are his little friend - his - but what would you be thinking if you knew he did this?

Even so, he can’t help remembering just how right it felt to have the soft curve of your ass nestled right up against his crotch, and then he’s speeding up with helpless, lewd desperation.

Your lips, all glossed and plump and parted to glorious perfection swim in his mind as he fails to stifle a sharp groan. The thought of them brushing over his own, over his chest, wrapping light and tight and warm around his length does him in with searing speed.

His release, spilling hopelessly and copiously into his tightened fist, blazes with the hot shame of it.

Aonung has felt this familiar embarrassed self-disgust before, quite a familiar after effect of these nights filled with thoughts of you, but this just feels so much… more.

Your words come to cross his mind again; “Why would people be attracted to me?”

The real answer is how could anyone fucking not be.

But that wasn’t entirely satisfactory, because Aonung was fully prepared to murder anyone who had the foolish balls to pursue you.

His little friend.

That same blazing shame doesn’t go away after a restless nights’ sleep.

Aonung wakes up, amidst the unwelcome sunlight filtering into his marui, to find that he can’t bring himself to face you quite yet. Of course, it’s just his luck that when he drags himself up to deal with the impatient hammering at his entrance, he’s met with you.

“Morning!” you say chirpily, which tells him clearly that you’ve mostly forgotten the events of the night before. “Tsireya’s forcing me to come to the beach, and I refuse to go without you.”

Aonung’s about to make some lame excuse, based loosely of his clan duties and his tiredness, but then your words process.

“You will go swimming?” he asks dubiously.

“Yup.”

And that does it.

Aonung has been trying to get you to come swimming for months, and he has to fight that little twinge of jealousy that it’s Tsireya that finally managed to convince you. However, when you bound away to where Tsireya, Rotxo, and the Sullys are waiting, Aonung finds himself following thoughtlessly.

You’re chatting animatedly with Kiri and Neteyam, and Aonung allows his eyes to quickly wander over you as he trails behind the group.

You’ve changed out of your short black clothing, though Aonung is delighted to find that once again, you aren’t hiding as much of your body as you typically do.

The little shorts you are wearing are just that. Little. They barely stretch over the curve of your ass, and ties of bikini bottoms are poking up out of the low waist. The top you’re wearing – a simple white tank – is also perfectly tight enough that Aonung can see the faint outline of a triangular bikini top.

The part that nearly makes his knees buckle is the slim line of your stomach visible between your top and shorts, where he can see the perfect soft squidge of your figure, and the little jiggle of your thighs with every step you take.

When you make it down to the beach, sun warming your skin and the soft ocean lapping against the sand surrounding you, you manage to surprise him further.

You don’t follow the others immediately into the water. You unbutton those little shorts and shimmy them down your body, before reaching up to tug off your top.

Oh.

Fuck.

You really had been right; Aonung had no idea how conspicuous he was.

Suddenly, after all that training of mastering himself, he simply cannot wrench or drag or tear his gaze away from you. Instead, he stands awkward and gaping like an idiot at the sight of you almost completely bare.

After so long of needing his imagination to picture you like this, seeing your body this gloriously bare could damn well killed him. In fact, Aonung’s sure even with your tawtute senses, you would surely know his heart just stopped, his blood heating, his brain stalling.

But you just shoot him a cheeky, knowing grin before innocently asking, “What?”

“Nothing,” Aonung clears his throat, painfully aware of his flushed face. “Should- uh – should we get in?”

You just roll your eyes at him and race in. He doesn’t watch the sway of your body as you slowly go into the water. He doesn’t need to resist the urge to just pick you up again, maybe even help you with your breathing.

He supposes he should be impressed with your swimming, but your size and ill adjustment to swimming in the ocean – especially beside na’vi – slows you down, and eventually he ends up just offering you a hand. He highly suspects that you’re not even swimming, just allowing yourself to be pulled leisurely through the water, but he isn’t going to complain.

You have this adorable little look of awe on your face, as though you thoroughly regret only now coming swimming after months of being begged to. Aonung faintly wonders why you never did come.

After a while, you all swim back to the shallows. The Sully’s, Rotxo and Tsireya are all running and splashing around, and Aonung notices you struggling to tread water (he notices with a small smile that you can’t reach the bottom).

“You good there?” he grins, wading over to you.

“Yep,” you huff, kicking up to keep your head at least above the water.

“Need a hand?” he snickers. “You look like you’re having a little trouble. Do yo-”

“Just get over here skxawng,” you grumble.

The moment he’s in arms reach, you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck and straddled your legs tight around him. You huff a little for breath, resting your face in the crook of his neck, warm breath fanning across his sensitive skin.

Tsireya looks over, and she shoots her brother a small, knowing smile. Aonung just rolls his eyes back, but he finds himself shifting you around his body so he can somewhat cradle you – your body wrapped around his side, supported lightly by one of his arms.

“You know,” Kiri says with delicate mirth, “we should be heading back soon, right Ro?”

“Yeah,” Rotxo agrees, looking equally happy at the sight of you (even if unintentionally so) cuddled against Aonung. “You coming Neteyam?”

“We’ll come too,” Tsireya grins, tugging Lo’ak along behind her.

You watch them all go, still slightly breathless. Aonung has a small suspicion you know exactly why they’re leaving, but you make no effort to shift away from him, and you wave them off.

Tsireya has to give Lo’ak and extra hard tug to pull him away. The Sully boys’ brotherly protection has always been a reason Aonung kept the truth away from you, but he thinks at this point he really just is completely conspicuous.

“Are you alright?” Aonung asks, pulling back slightly to push your head from your face.

And suddenly, he notices something.

There’s none of that fierce, bantery spark that blazes between your eyes. Instead, you’re just staring at him with complete and utter… something.

Aonung has never wanted more that you had a tail and na’vi ears so he can better gage your thoughts, but you’re just completely unreadable.

Your eyes are raking over his face; he can feel their trail burning into his skin as though you were physically touching him. You’re inches away.

He clears his throat.

No no no.

Eventually, you tread out of the water to stretch in the soft sand cast into relieving shade, beneath the shelter of the tropical canopy. Aonung lies down beside you, throat feeling strangely tight.

There is something different. Something off.

And there’s a sinking feeling that tells him things just won’t go back to normal. Which is why he decides he needs to settle this out.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says quietly, staring up at the canopy above.

It’s green.

You give a little hum of acknowledgement.

“What for?” you reply quietly.

“For causing a little scene,” Aonung says quietly.

He counts seventeen little pink flowers in the tree above.

“Right.”

“And cutting you off,” he adds in a mumble.

He thinks there might be several birds hiding between the spindly, delicate fronds.

You don’t reply. He still doesn’t risk a glance at you.

“And for upsetting you.”

There’s another moment of silence. Aonung swears you must be able to hear his heartbeat. You exhale slowly.

“I’m not upset,” you say quietly.

Aonung turns to look at you. You’re also looking up at the canopy, wet hair spilling over the sand, body glittering with the droplets of water still shining on your skin. You swallow.

“You aren’t?” he asks, trying not to sound too relieved. You shake your head slightly, still not turning to meet his gaze.

“Nope,” you sigh, wearily popping the p. “It’s just- um… why did you do it?”

“Do what.”

“The whole thing,” you say, gesturing in front of you. “Of protecting me and making sure I didn’t make a mistake. Plus the… the um…”

Aonung stares in disbelief. He’s never seen you go this long without loudly and shamelessly voicing your opinions. The struggle to get out a single sentence is really quite unnerving for him.

“The whole kill him if he touches me thing,” you blurt in a quick breath, face flushed and eyes refusing to meet his.

It’s Aonung’s turn to blink. He does so in owlish silence, watching the light filtering contentedly through the canopy above while his mind works furiously to find a legitimate answer to your question.

“You are small,” Aonung says finally, carefully tiptoeing around the truth, but really, any more time to think is quite unacceptable given the length of his ponderous silence. “And delicate and sweet. I do not wish anyone-”

“I am not weak,” you interrupt, a small frown on your sweet little face. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

He swallows heavily. Those words feel suddenly painful in his chest.

That’s who he was – he protected you, even if you didn’t know it yet. He was the one that stood by you, stood over you, and that warmth and shade he cast over you meant so much more than you thought.

Eywa, how well he could protect you if you let him.

You must have noticed how those words hit him – how his ears drooped and tail swept dejectedly through the sand.

“Aonung?” you say quietly, propping yourself up on one arm and staring at him. “Is there something bothering you?”

“No,” he says, far too fast to be believable. Your mouth twitches in a wry smile, and you scoot closer.

“You always were a terrible liar,” you whisper. At Aonung’s bitter little huff, your smile widens slightly, before fading entirely. He wants to do anything to bring it back. “At least - you could never convince me.”

“Fine,” Aonung mumbles, resigning himself to the fact that there’s no going back.

He knows you know something’s wrong, and he can tell that this friendship is already crumbling away into something else – something unintelligible and unfathomable to him.

“They are not fit for you, tsawksyul.”

You flinch back, and Aonung wonders faintly if it’s because of the name, or his words, or the harsh desperation with which he spoke them, and he reaches slowly for you. You lean back from him, face twisted with confused hurt.

“Then who is?” you say dully.

“Not anyone here,” Aonung tells you.

Once again, he has no idea how to gage your feelings. It’s strange really, that he’s gone from how lustful and filthy he was last night to how just overwhelmingly… fluffy he feels right now.

But apparently you aren’t finding his words how he intended them, because your face is twisting in a very obvious scowl.

“So… I don’t get anyone,” you say.

Aonung isn’t stupid, he sees the way your eyes are narrowing to indicate the very clear correct answer to your trembly question, but then again, he is stupid when it comes to you.

“You don’t need anyone.”

Instantly he knows that was the wrong thing to say. Your chest seems to swell and your face flushes as you sit upright and glare at him.

“Right,” you snap.

“Have I upset you?” Aonung asks slowly, wondering what he did when his brain feels as though it’s made of jelly.

“Nice observation sherlock,” you huff. “You’d want me to end up all sad and alone with no one to love me, just so I don’t fuck some of your clan mates? What, are you jealous or something? Do you think that you’d be that much better?”

No sooner are the words from your mouth then Aonung’s body betrays him – reacting before his mind can process. But the way he flinches back and flushes makes you freeze, and your eyes widen.

“Well…” he stammers, trying to dig himself out of this stupid hole he got into. “Yes?”

“And why is that,” you huff, standing up on your little legs, barely at his height and fist balled with rage. “You really think you’re that much better than everyone else? I thought you got over your cocky entitlement phase but now here you are, desperate to show that you’re the biggest, hottest thing in the clan.”

Aonung’s brain is too muddled to think. This is all going so, so wrong.

“No!” he says quickly, so desperate to try and speak properly that his voice comes out as something of a shout. You look shocked for a moment, flinched back from him, and he instantly reaches towards you. “I’m sorry-”

“You know,” you say stiffly, stepping out of his reach, “I thought you weren’t like this anymore. God, I wasted so much time, and you only ever started noticing me in this way when you found out I – as an adult woman by the way – was not some little … celibate fucking nun!”

“In what way?” Aonung asks, confused.

You let out a noise somewhere between a sob and a furious growl, then let out an unnerving laugh.

“Are you fucking serious?” you snap. “You’re the most self-centered person I’ve ever met! I thought we grew up, that not everything would be a competition and we could have a mature friendship if we could never be… UGH! But you are genuinely the most infuriating, entitled, interfering, emulous ass I’ve ever had the misfortune to befriend! I mean what is wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Aonung says, frowning.

“Well there obviously fucking is if I love you!”

You freeze. So does he.

Your words – irrevocable, irreversible and so gleamingly inescapable hang in the still, tense air.

The beach is completely empty albeit the faintly lapping waves and drifting shade of the trees, and of course those words. The ones that change everything, break everything, ruin the friendship you have spent years building.

Aonung just sits in dumbfounded, perplexed silence. Breath after breath. He seems to have forgotten how to breathe, and in the strange, almost reminiscently ironic moments he takes to try and figure it out, you’ve turned faintly green, flushed deeper than the flowers above you, then paled in blunt mortification.

“Oh god,” you whisper, covering your face when your brain kicks in and you remember to move. Aonung still hasn’t said anything, and even though he can see that’s breaking you, he just isn’t able to speak. “Please… say something skxawng.”

Silence.

“Oh god,” you say again, shaking your head, lip trembling slight. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything- I’m just going to-”

“I love you too.”

“Please just forget- wait what?”

There’s a moment when everything stops. The sea seems to stall, the wind dies and the canopy stiffens. Aonung notes that your hair is still being blown gently in some absent breeze.

Your eyes look slightly red and slightly wet and your lips are parted in surprise. The longer Aonung stares at you, the deeper that little frowning furrow between your brows grows. He’s vaguely aware of his heart thumping – so loud and fast that under different circumstances, he may have even been worried about it – but he can’t summon any thoughts into his brain.

“Since when,” you whisper. Your voice is nothing more than a trembly breath, and if Aonung hadn’t been na’vi, if he hadn’t been watching you so intently to gage that your lips moved, he would have still been trapped in this tense silence.

“Since fucking forever,” he groans, rubbing his face tiredly. “I thought you were supposed to be all smart and all-knowing when it came to romance and crushes and shit.”

“Just because you are completely and irrevocably stupidly oblivious,” you scoff, “does not make me a genius in comparison.”

“So we’re just two little lovestruck idiots, then?”

“Guess so.”

There’s a moment of silence before it really does process to both of you. Aonung’s head snaps up, eyes wide and lips stretched with a fat dopey smile only to find yourself already launching yourself into his arms.

When he catches you, he’s sure he’ll never be able to let you go. Your hands reach to cup his face, which seems comically large in comparison, smiling in delighted disbelief before you let out a small, wet laugh.

“God, I love you.”

Aonung doesn’t even respond- barely even processes your words beyond a surge of overwhelming ecstacy, and presses his lips to yours.

Fuck.

Eywa.

How had he managed to go this long without this.

All those moments staring at your lips meant nothing when compared to the actual feel of them; soft, warm, tentative at first as you brush them over his own. There’s something so sweet about you, and he has a blissful idea that you’re melting on his tongue.

Aonung can feel those last tenterhooks of your friendship splintering and tearing apart at the feeling of your lips against his.

Well, good riddance.

Aonung’s hand finds its way into your hair, hand resting steadily on the back of your neck. Your mouth is small, cushioned by those soft warm lips, but you open your mouth wide and eager, hungry and tentative and exploratory and everything in between.

You’re making all these little huffy noises, as though desperate for breath but unable to pull away from him. When your smooth, small body shifts to press itself closer against him, Aonung groans unrestrainedly into your mouth, and he swears to Eywa you could kill him.

When he’d imagined this – during those late nights hidden deep in his marui fisting his cock – you’d been different. Sometimes you’d be sweet and nervous and tentative, at others you’d be desperate and ravenous and impatient.

Nothing could have prepared you for this, not even his copious, overwhelming dreams and hopes and desires for this. Nothing could have readied him to have you here and now, lips against his, tongue pressed against his, bodies tight against one another.

He’s so hard he thinks he might actually die, but he’ll be damned to pull away to deal with his own needs. All that matters now, all that exists right now is you, your scent, your lips, your body all beside him and around him and so hungry for him.

When he’s worried you’re quite about to suffocate, he slides his lips sideways to press hungry kisses along your jaw. You let out small, breathy gasps, fingers tangling in his hair, arms clinging tight around his neck to steady yourself as his lips find their way steadily back to you.

As your lips smash onto his once more, Aonung marvels at the way his hand – splayed out to hold you up – spans across the whole damn length of your back. When his fingers lightly trace their way up your spine, you shiver against him, soothed by his hand carding gently through your hair.

Your tongue licks lightly over his fangs, and Aonung, surprised, jerks back at the strange sensitivity. That felt different, and he wonders faintly how in all the meaningless, irrelevant kisses he’s shared in his lifetime, that’s never happened before, or at least made him feel so sensitive.

“You good?” you smile against his lips, but he suspects it’s more of a smirk. You know exactly what you’re doing.

“Yeah,” he says, feeling breathless and completely inflamed. “Yeah… I’m good.”

Your tongue teases over his fangs again. When he moans shamelessly back into your mouth, you giggle and cuddle him closer. Aonung laughs with you. It’s an almost painful relief from the overwhelming heat of the moment.

You’re still breathing heavily with that wide smile on your face when you stop giggling, but when Aonung meets your gaze, he can’t read your expression. He thinks for a moment you’re going to push him back, tell him to slow down, but then your gaze darkens ominously.

“Let’s get back,” you breathe exultantly.

“Why-”

“Because I don’t really feel like fucking for the first time with you on the sand of an exposed beach,” you grin.

“So we’re going to fuck?” Aonung asks hopefully, the corners of his mouth curling with delight.

“Up to you,” you grin, standing up and backing away from him in the direction of the village. “I mean, you could stay here in the shade, listen to the pretty birdies and watch the ocean-”

You cut off with a delighted giggle as Aonung sweeps you up as though you weigh nothing and tears off towards the village.

He ignores the stares of the clan as he storms his way towards his marui, though he must admit you must be quite the sight – you nearly completely bare in your little swimsuit, bundled up in his arms and shifty smiles stretched wide across your faces.

He practically crashes into his marui, not bothering to slip his way through the woven entrance but bursting through it and kicking it carelessly back into place with his tail.

You laugh – sweet and clear and loud – as he tosses you against the bed and crawls over to you. There’s barely a thought in his brain than you, with your breathy little gasps and hands raking through his hair and soft, warm lips.

When he buries his nose in the soft, exposed crook between your shoulder and neck, you jolt in surprise. You smell so sweet. Aonung wonders vaguely if he’s in heaven, surrounded by your arms encircling him, buried and deluged in your warm, sweet scent.

He’s extremely pleased to note you’re already starting to smell like him – a faint trace of sea breeze and amber noticeable on you, but he isn’t about to stop until you smell of nothing but him, until every person in this clan can see his plain mark on you, know that you are his and his alone.

And then he can’t stop himself from sinking his fangs lightly into that warm exposed skin.

You instantly squirm underneath him, arching up against him with a surprised gasp. You are just so soft, and his teeth sink with impossible ease into your neck. No sooner has he done it then he’s lightly licking the small pearls of blood away and pressing a light kiss for good measure.

And then he does it again. And again – adorning you with a necklace of gleaming ruby bites, better than any jewellery he would make, prettier than any pearls or shells he would collect. He doesn’t know if you understand them, that claim and those marks, but he’ll make sure you know that you’re his.

“Aonung,” you gasp, gripping at his face to tug him away and force him to look at you. “Aonung!”

“Yes?” he asks, slightly irritated you stopped him from continuing.

“I want you to fuck me,” you breathe, pupils blown wide, chest heaving with the desperation of your gasps, face flushed in glorious exultation.

“Not yet tsawksyul,” he says. A small glare is forming in your eyes, and he nearly laughs at your ravenous impatience. “You are not ready yet.”

“Yes I am,” you snap, scowling at him. “I’ve taken na’vi men before, just-”

“Patience,” he whispers, hand reaching up to rest against your face, thumb brushing over your frowning lips.

You look like you’re about to shout at him when Aonung’s hand leaves your face and finds it’s way to the little knots on the side of your bikini.

“Is this alright?” he asks gently. No sooner are the words out of his mouth then you’re nodding with irritated fervour, and he pulls lightly on the strings and slides away your bottoms.

Fuck.

His eyes are glued to that paradise between your legs, the one he’s been dreaming about for months. Vaguely and almost unconsciously, he decides when he dies, he’d prefer this heaven over anything else. His eyes quickly flicks up to you, and you must see something in his darkened, suddenly insatiable gaze, because your face is quickly flushing and your legs are squeezing shut.

“Do you want this tsawksyul?” he asks in a low voice, retracting from your body slightly so you don’t feel uncomfortable.

“Ye- yes,” you mutter, face turning an adorable pink colour.

“Are you sure,” he presses gently, reaching out to direct your gaze back to his. “We can do something else- we don’t have to-”

“No!” you gasp, eyes widening at those words. “No- I want this.”

“You have to tell me,” Aonung whispers, pressing a kiss to the perfect plush of your inner thighs, “if you don’t like anything. You have to say if you want to stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” you breathe, and he grins.

When he finally dives between your legs, it’s without the intent of ever resurfacing. You let out a surprised little gasp as he muscles his way between your pretty thighs, forcing them further apart from that meager gap you thought would satiate him.

He licks a long, tantalising stripe up your puffy lips, eyes practically rolling back at the sweet, heady taste of you, exploding over his tongue just as he spent so long dreaming about. At your reaction – accidentally bucking your little hips into his face with a choked gasp – he can guess you hadn’t been expecting the rough texture of his tongue.

He looks experimentally up at you, and you glare straight back with an impatient, expectant look on your usually sweet little face.

Fuck yes.

He sucks lightly and you practically shriek, hands tearing for something to grab onto. Unfortunately, your fingers find purchase closing around his hair – curls and kuru and all – and you tug.

Neither of you expected that groan ripped from him, the sound vibrating against you in a way that has your eyes rolling and moaning in glorious response. Aonung, who had already thoughtlessly been rutting his own hips against the ground in search of any salvation from that insatiable ache in his core, does not miss that warning heat start to coil in his abdomen.

But ever set on pleasing you, he does not lapse for a moment and ignores his own unravelling as you continue to desperately tug at his kuru. You’re already squirming and gasping for breath – only making hungry little moans and letting slip little gasps of curses and don’t stops.

He, in fact, has no intention of stopping soon. Not when you’re making all these pretty little noises, not when your own pleasure – the sounds and taste and scent of it – is nearly tipping him over the edge.

He can tell you’re close, and that’s what prompts him to slowly slide a finger into your soaked heat. With a choked moan your hand fists tighter around his hair. Aonung marvels at just how tight you are, clenching around his fingers like a vice as you struggle to adjust to his finger.

He vaguely revels in the thought of how amazing you’d feel, wrapped all tight and warm against his cock, and he moans into you.

When he knows you’re about to tip over the edge, when your eyes are rolling and your moans are becoming less words and more desperate pleading noises, he circles his tongue around your clit and sucks.

You come undone with a cry, clenching around his finger so much he can feel your whole heat aching against his ravenously laving tongue.

It’s only when your thighs (no doubt of their own accord) shut tight around his face in a glorious squeeze of soft, perfect squidge.

He isn’t sure why that’s what does it – though it is paired with your tugs on his kuru and his mindlessly rutting hips – but then he’s also pushed over that brink with a snarl you hardly even notice, too high on your own cresting pleasure.

But he has no time for shame or mortification at his early release, never even touched by you, because really, it’s a marvel it hadn’t happened earlier.

You’ve barely come down from your high when you notice Aonung still buried contentedly between your closed thighs.

“A- Aonung,” you pant, left breathless by your orgasm and the glorious sight of your best friend, all perfect and pretty, having the goddamn time of his life.

His only reply is to lightly tap the side of your thighs and mumble against your aching cunt, “Open these a little wider for me, tsawksyul.”

He vaguely notes your mouth drop open in surprise before he’s diverting his full attention to that heaven between your thighs. Your little huff of impatient is batted with your own gasp, but you – stubborn as ever – continue the struggle of attempting speech, “You-”

“Just one more,” he coaxes, licking another long stripe so his tongue catches on your overstimulated clit. Your defeated little groan is music to his ears, and a wide grip is stretched over his face as he victoriously resubmerges.

Your first orgasm has barely abated before your second is hurtling nearer with haphazard enthusiasm.

You’re whining and squirming from the overstimulation, but your desperate moans are punctuated with little gasps of don’t stop and encouraging tugs on his hair.

Aonung’s moaning into you, enjoying this quite as much as you are. His hands are holding you close by your soft plush of your thighs, tail sweeping and thumping behind him as he inevitably grows rock hard again, spurred by your euphoria.

All that exists is you. You’re so fucking wet, practically soaking into his mouth. All he can see and hear and taste is you, hips rutting against his face, hands clawing at his hair, head thrown back and moans spilling out of your gleaming, parted lips.

His jaw is aching in delicious wearing. The pain is satisfying in a strange way, and he contents himself with the knowledge he’s working.

It isn’t exactly best-friendly; the thoughts he’s having. He sincerely doubts his brain has never been this filthy, flying through all the lewd possibilities while he has you here.

“Aonung!” you slur out, thighs twitching over his shoulders as you near your high. “you need- slow down - ‘s too much.”

“You’re doing so well,” he hums against you, still maintaining his steady (and somewhat overzealous) pace.

Again, when he notices how close you are, he sucks your whole cunt into his mouth, tongue lapping at your little swollen clit as he sucks hungrily at you.

Then once again, your thighs are tensing and your moans are slurring into unintelligible whines. Your grip on his hair is iron as you gasp your way through your second high, eyes wide and lips parted as you heave for shaky, desperate breath.

Once you come down, you push at his head, tugging his hair away from your overstimulated cunt and trying to pull him back up to you.

“God- Aonung!”

Finally he relents, sitting up with a delighted little grin. You are also wearing a stupid little smile, though you look distinctly dazed and ruffled. Aonung feels a little surge of pride.

“Oh my…” you gape, eyes wide in bewilderment as you scan over him. His face is all shiny and gleaming and slicked, and you let out a little giggle as you reach out to try and wipe some of it away. “Oh my god- I’m so sorry.”

Aonung laughs with you, not in the least bothered by the mess of his face. Instead, he takes your hands in his and peppers light kisses up your arms and back towards your neck, where he is pleased to see his various gleaming bites and hickeys ornamented into your soft skin. You giggle again.

“Aonung?” you ask gently, a small smile curling at the edge of your voice.

“Mm?” he grunts, nipping another ruby bite into your collar.

“Care to fuck me now?”

Aonung pulls away an inch, trying to hide his obvious arousal as he studies your rosy grinning face.

“Are you sure?” he questions gently. “I mean you just-”

His voice dies in his throat when you reach up lightly to – tortuously slowly – pull at the strings of your top. He watches the top slide away without breath, and only when you’ve impatiently tossed it aside and grinned at him does he dare to move.

A complete sense of unreality washes over him. After imagining this moment for so long, it seems strange he cannot think of anything to do but worshipfully admire you.

He is pleased to note that, in fact, your breasts are just as soft and plush as the rest of you. They are round and full and slightly squishy in a way completely unlike na’vi, and he’s never been gladder that your aren’t just muscle, that your small body is so perfectly squidgy.

With a nod of consent from you, Aonung reaches lifts you lightly up to place you over his lap. You steady yourself with your hands on his chest, still looking a little rumpled and dazed, but he doesn’t miss that dark, mischevious gleam in your eyes as you stare down at him.

The second you’re balanced, your hand is reaching out to the tent of his tewng. You study him with greed, drinking in the sight of his arousal as though it’s what you need to live. He’s a little mortified now, but he hopes that you think the slick of your hips slightly rocking against his is why his tewng is soaked.

Your hand reaches out to trace along the edge of his tewng, eyes dark with frustrated, hungry impatience.

“Oh baby,” you whisper, your mouth twisted in strange ecstasy as you meet his flushed gaze. “Was this all for me?”

Before he can answer – though he doesn’t think he’d even be able to speak with you settled so perfectly over him – your hips slide back a little so your little palm settles right over his hardened length.

“Take these off.”

“Are you su-” Aonung starts to say, before you rock right up against his pained length and his voice stumbles off.

“Yes,” you whisper impatiently. “It’s not fair that I’m here all naked and you still get clothes.”

“I’m basically already naked and you wear clothes that cover much more than mine every day,” he protests.

“What, do you want me to get you a hoodie too,” you snap, and he knows you’re growing more frustrated and impatient with the effort of grinding against him.

He laughs, and you scowl fiercely at him.

“Just take it off Ao, I wanna make you feel good too.”

Those words practically punch a whole in him, and he feels another surge of unbearable affection for you, which is promptly murdered as you stop your movements in protest.

“You already did, tsawksyul,” he whispers.

“Not properly,” you press. “I want to do it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Your hips rock hard against his, your bare cunt against his cock covered by that ridiculous tewng, and he feels his self-control slipping away. You must sense it too, because you’re grinning and shifting up to help him pull the last restraint between the two of you away. The tewng is thrown away with careless abandon to lie somewhere far away; there are no clothes needed here.

The small gasp you let out when you finally see him all bare and desperate and hungry makes Aonung’s heart thud painfully in his chest.

“Fuck yes.”

Your words explode from you as though you didn’t mean to say them, and a moment later you’re flushing with hot embarrassment. Aonung laughs lightly and you smile bashfully with an adorable little nose scrunch, before he’s lifting you back onto him again.

It’s bare – skin on glorious skin.

He needs to breathe for a moment, ears flattening against his head and eyes falling shut in dark pleasure. You’re so soft – thighs either side of him, breasts bouncing at the slightest movement – but you’re also so wet and warm and slightly sticky that he thinks you’re killing him.

It becomes painfully evident to him that the moment his cock pushes inside you, he’ll be fighting for his life to not come instantly. Again.

He always knew patience wasn’t your strong suit, but you’re growing more and more frustrated and he finally pulls his babbling brain together enough to flip you over to lie beneath him and align himself to your entrance.

With a small, almost pleading cry from you, with his heart thudding loud enough for you to hear, he presses in.

You’re clenching around him so tight, barely even an inch in. You’re tighter than he ever imagined, and he feels like he’s being coddled in searing perfection, so much so that he can hardly breathe as he slowly starts to push in.

When you let out a hoarse whine – the stretch is evident even to him – Aonung winces. He doesn’t want to hurt you, and the thought of you in pain is too much for him to bear. He settles himself with pulling you against him, soothingly stroking your hair.

He can’t look away from where you’re swallowing him whole. It’s a fucking addiction, a new drug. Even the sight of you slowly struggling to take him would be enough to send him over the edge, and he grits his teeth so he doesn’t come instantly and mortifyingly. Again.

And then finally, Aonung’s pushing past that tight ring of resistance and into your velvety heat.

He’s dying. He has to be. Because there’s no damn way he didn’t just go to paradise.

The breath is punched out of him in a low, desperate growl, his hands clawing into the ground to steady himself, to let you adjust, to not just completely lose his mind and bury himself deep into you.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, your voice no more than a desperate, filthy whimper as you look down. The sight of the bulge in your stomach drives Aonung fucking crazy, and he has to physically grip himself back from just slamming straight into you. “You’re all the way here.”

“Taking me so well syulang,” Aonung praises, eyes hazy with the strain and face flushed in the euphoric pleasure of your body around his. “Doing so good for me.”

He doesn’t miss the way you clench around him at the praise, the way your cheeks blush and you bite back a small, helpless moan. A good thing to know for later, and he makes a mental note to shower you in so much praise you don’t know what to do with it.

But in the meantime, he can hardly breathe through the effort of holding himself back. You’re gripping him so damn tight he thinks you might actually strangle him, the overwhelming pleasure and anticipation practically choking the breath out of him.

Your face is all twisted and screwed up, and Aonung doesn’t need to be a genius to see you’re in pain. He holds you close, whispering endless praise of how well you’re doing while reaching down to rub gentle circles on your overstimulated clit as he continues the painstaking, tortuous ascent into the heaven between your legs.

“Oh god,” you whimper, resting your limp head against Aonung’s chest, heaving for breath as you try your utmost to adjust to him. “Oh god, Aonung.”

The sound of his name rumbled from deep within your chest, coarse and raw and desperate just tips him just over the edge of mastering his control. His muscles tense as your nails dig into his chest, hips flexing somewhat and accidentally knocking into you, and you let out a strangled cry.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says quickly, reaching to cuddle you in close, stroking your hair comfortingly. “You’re doing so well, tsawksyul.”

The words fall on practically deaf ears. You’re so flushed and radiant and ravenous that he doubts you’re even thinking straight, your face adorned with a somewhat manically exultant smile and rolling eyes as he slowly presses even further into you.

You’re clenching around him so impossibly tight, whimpering and moaning as he rocks several more inches into you. He doesn’t know what to make of your quiet sobs, whether they’re of pain or pleasure or just hungry impatience, but he comforts you nonetheless by settling his thumb gently over your clit.

Aonung couldn’t care less about how vocal he is, whispering endless praise, snarling out small curses, rumbling desperate groans against the skin of your bare neck, which is now adorned with gleaming hickeys and several smug little bites.

“Eywa, they didn’t do anything to deserve you tsawksyul,” Aonung groans, still rocking another inch into you. You give a weak, wet chuckle, and he presses a kiss to your shining forehead. “You don’t need any of them ever again, you got that? You won’t ever need anyone else.”

“Ye- yes.”

“I’ll take care of you,” he groans, hardly even aware of what he’s saying anymore. “Whatever you need, I’ll always be there with you.”

“Ao- Aonung?” you gasp, steadying yourself with a grip on his arms. “I wa- I want-”

“I know, I know,” Aonung soothes you, finally bottoming out inside you. There’s no way he would have fit all of himself in there, but he isn’t greedy, particularly when the part you could take is coddled so warm and wet and tight. “I’ve got you.”

It takes everything in him not to let loose immediately.

It’s with gentle words and a hand splayed out across your back to steady you that he pulls out an inch or so before rocking back in.

The effect is instant. You let out a strangled, lewd, filthy noise, eyes widening to round moons and mouth opening in almost dumbification. He makes a deep groan in response, pulling out again, pushing back in again, and the last pretences of friendship are shattered.

His lips find their way to your face, forehead clumsily pressed against your much smaller one, hands holding you gently – a softness at complete odds to the way he’s fucking you.

It feels sinful – the way this is so perfectly right, to have his best friend like this, all pretty and babbling and teary on his thick length.

He moans shamelessly every time his gaze passes over you – all stretched and beautiful – around him, taking everything he gives you.

The sounds you’re making are mingled pleading and sobbing, still shot through with greedy hunger. Each moan and whine and sob strike deep in him, hand in hand with the tears forming in your shining eyes.

Eywa, you’re so much tighter than he ever imagined – ever dreamed of. He’s pretty sure he tells you, but those words are lost in the stream of mingled praise and groaned curses pouring from him as he revels in the pleasure of you and you alone.

The sight of your tits bouncing at each thrust is hypnotic, and then finally his restraint is crumbling, and he dives eagerly forward to take one of them into his mouth.

You arch with a surprise cry as his mouth locks around your breast, tongue flicking over your peaked nipple, fangs trailing over your soft skin now slightly shining with the heat of his mouth. He ignores the contortion for him to do it – all discomfort is disregarded at the sounds of your pretty little whines.

He knew from the start he wasn’t going to last long, but he can see that you clearly aren’t going to either.

Your eyes are rolling, heaving for breath in the rare moments you aren’t cursing or babbling or moaning. Your hands and clutching for support, anything to cling to, something to anchor yourself so he doesn’t almost fuck you straight through the bed.

Aonung vaguely acknowledges (in some dimly functioning part of his brain), that perhaps he might be a little worked up. He’s wanted this for so long, thought about this so many times, imagined and replayed and perfected the vision of this moment, that there’s no slowing down now.

Nothing – not one of his filthiest imaginations, not one of his raunchiest desires – could compare to this. To you.

And then your mouth is opening in a hoarse, desperate cry, your fingers are clawing into the tensed muscles of his shoulders, your cunt is clenching so tight around him it’s bordering on sinful pain.

He reaches to rub circles on your poor, swollen, throbbing clit, and you practically scream.

“Fuck, fuck fuck- oh god-” you sob, shaking as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“I know, I got you,” Aonung whispers against your sweat-damp skin. He doubts you can even hear him, and he isn’t even sure he’s physically speaking all the words rushing through his brain.

It seems to almost go forever, and there isn’t a single second in which Aonung wants it to stop. You look so pretty writhing beneath him, clenching around him, panting for him, sobbing because of him, and when it finally seems to slow down, his own pleasure crests.

He’s grinning against your throat, so fucking pleased with himself. He’s so proud of the way you took him that he’s actually about to die, and when he moves to pull out, your nails dig into his arm and you shake your head furiously.

That’s that.

It all snaps in a final sort of conflagration, waves of pleasure and delight and ecstasy and overwhelming, unbearable euphoria rocking over him, over both of you, as he loses control and buries himself with a positive roar in your still clenching warmth.

He’s hardly aware of where he is, though he can vaguely hear moans and whines and curses he guesses may be his, though he can see himself filling you up to the point it’s spilling out the sides and onto your soft, shining thighs.

Aonung just allows himself a moment of selfish indulgence, of sinfully glorious exultation. Nothing matters, nothing even exists, beyond you.

When he flops onto you, shaking with heavy breaths, exultance coursing through his veins, he doesn’t bother to pull out.

You’re still so tight and strangely comforting all wrapped around him, pulsing in the glorious, tortuous aftershocks of your final climax. You don’t protest – though he’s careful to angle his body to not completely crush you.

You let him lie in delighted, satiated silence, tail sweeping happily behind him on the woven floor, head pillowed against the soft curve of your breasts, dimly admiring all the marks he left across your smooth skin.

You’re also trying to steady your breath, absently anchoring yourself to the present by fiddling with the woven cord of his necklace. Aonung notices the curved tooth is almost as large as your whole hand, and a stupid surge of affection wells in his heart.

Here you are, the prettiest little thing he’s ever seen, his best friend, seconds after the most lewd, intimate moment of your lives. What did he ever do to deserve even befriending you, let alone be your personal blanket after he may or may not have fucked you damn boneless?

“Are you alright?” he asks softly, when he’s regained enough breath to properly process your limp, heaving form.

You smile weakly and shake your head, saying, “I think you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

“Good,” Aonung grins, shifting to nuzzle closer against your soft skin. “You won’t need anyone else ever again.”

“Oh, really?” you roll your eyes, but he doesn’t miss the way you can’t stop smiling. A moment later your hands are moving to cup his face, and he smiles back at you.

“Can I kiss you, tsawksyul?”

You don’t respond to his question for a moment, staring at him with lips parted in absolute disbelief before a loud, delighted laugh is rocked out of your little body. He frowns, confused.

“What?”

“You just fucked me near boneless,” you laugh, stroking his face affectionately, “and now you’re asking if you can kiss me?”

“Yes…?” he replies, brows furrowed. Your laughter fades and a small smile is left on your small, rosy face.

“Yes,” you smile, cheeks crinkling and eyes bright with strangely overwhelmed joy. “Yes, you can kiss me.”

And he does.

Different to before, not just full of lust and hunger and deep-rooted desperation fuelled by months of desire and affection. This is gentle, sweet, and a soft embodiment of all the warm fluffiness he harbours for you, his little tsawksyul.

He can feel your lips smiling against his own, your little heartbeat thumping against his chest as he cuddles you closer, arm wrapping protectively over you and tail draping lightly over your legs.

Then you’re giggling against him and he’s laughing with you and all the heaviness of the moment before is fading.

He realises that there had been a small naggling part in the back of his brain, wondering what would happened when you finished, when the heat and desire was gone, worried that perhaps it was just the arousal or something that was attracting you to him.

But this is the same then ever – albeit you’re naked. And in love.

Aonung smiles.

“I love you.”

You whisper the words back against his lips, legs wrapping around him to snuggle closer. He faintly dreads the moment you’ll have to pull away, but contents himself to the fact that he can cuddle you again tomorrow and the day after.

So he settles back, peppering you with kisses and light praise. After a few moments, when your breath has properly returned, you exchange some happy prediction for everyone’s reaction to you and him. He finds he couldn’t care less.

Eywa, he’s so happy to have you here.

His little friend.

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

Tagging my darlings: @hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re@yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @vminlvxr @elegantfankidsoul @blue-slxt @neteyamssyulang @theunfortunateplace @lala-1516 @strongheartneteyam @kiskso @deadpool15 @vampirefilmlover @tysirya @universal-s1ut Please let me know if you'd also like to be added to the taglist :)

#aonung fanfiction #aonung x reader #avatar fanfiction #aonung fic #avatar smut #aonung x female reader #avatar #aonung #avatar the way of water #avatar fandom #aonung x human reader #aonung x human #avatar x human reader #friends to lovers

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pedgito · 1 year

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hi bestie, could i please request either steve or eddie, whoever you're feeling more, smoking weed with their good friend f!reader and learning that she gets a major oral fixation when she's high? love your writing the absolute most!

author's note: look, i couldn't choose so you get both. i also don't write steve often so if this is horrible i'm sorry lol

cw: 18+ (minors dni), established friendship, steve is a little clueless, smoking/getting high, threesomes, oral fixation (sorta, i lost focus pretty quick lol), oral (f & m receiving), mentions of steddie, lots of kissing and teasing each other, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 5k

Steve wasn’t supposed to be here—not that you cared, but it was a surprise when you walked through the door that night and he was settled on Eddie’s living room couch, shoes left by the door and his sock covered feet plopped up on the cushion that separated him and Eddie. You can’t even imagine the conversation you interrupted when they both stare at you wide-eyes, like Eddie forget to mention to Steve that you were coming over—or that possibly, he forgot about you coming over at all.

It wasn’t a weekly thing, but Eddie would pick a few random nights out of the month to smoke with you and watch a couple movies—you’d knew each other since grade school, when Eddie had much less of a mane than he did now and wasn’t nearly as intimidating to people. Not that he could ever seem that way to you, it was impossible.

“Oh, hey—” Eddie breathes, fingers tapping absently against the arm of the couch where his arm was slung over, knee tucked up under his forearm, his foot planted firmly against the cushion. He was dressed down, a plain black shirt and similarly colored sweatpants. Steve still had on his work uniform, pinned name tag stuck to his vest, “Steve’s here.”

You smile slightly, closing the door shut behind you and tossing the small bag on snacks on his cluttered kitchen counter. “I see that.” You nod, making eye contact with the culprit, Steve looked severely out of place, “Steve.”

“I should go, right?” Steve asks wearily, finger pointing toward the front door. “I feel like I’m interrupting something—“

“No, it’s fine.” You assure him, “I just—“ A small laugh bubbles from your chest, “since when does Steve Harrington smoke weed?”

“Hey—I’ve smoked before,” Steve defends, “I mean, my parents would kill me if they found out about it, but I have a few times.”

You glance over at Eddie, his face riddled with amusement.

“He’s a crowd smoker, isn’t he?”

“A what?”

“You only smoke around groups because everyone else is doing it—but to answer that question,” Eddie looks at you with a narrowed gaze, “he’s not.”

“Oh?”

You’re intrigued, you couldn’t help it—hanging out with Steve had never been on your agenda, but it wasn’t the worst possible scenario.

“We’ve smoked a few times before,” Eddie explains, “like, once or twice.”

“So, you’re cheating on me with Harrington?” You feign the shot to your ego, hand pressed against your chest as you leaned against the counter, still a large distance from the two boys.

They looked comfortable, at ease—despite your steady friendship with Eddie, you didn’t realize just how close him and Steve had become. You’ve only tagged alone to Family Video a few times with Eddie, figuring most of it was just polite small talk, but it all makes a lot more sense now.

“I could never,” Eddie smiles, reaching for the blunt tucked securely behind his ear, flipping it through his fingers, “anyways, are we gonna start a game of twenty one questions or—“

“Wayne’s gonna kill you if he finds out you smoked on his couch.” You remind him.

“Obviously—“ Eddie retorts, “that’s why we’re moving this to the bedroom.”

You grimace in subtle disgust, “God, why do you say it like that?”

“It’s a special place,” Eddie replies dramatically, “where all the magic happens.”

Steve looks up at you, eyes wide but soft, lips down-turned in a slight frown, “Is he always like this?”

“With me?” You ask redundantly, “Yes.”

Not that you minded any of it, Eddie was probably the only person that could get away with talking to you in such a manor that didn’t make you immediately want to vomit.

Eddie always called it the Munson charm, whatever that was.

Steve coughs through the first couple of drags, not allowing the smoke to reach his lungs properly. It was like watching a baby try to stand on it’s own for the first time and Steve was severely out of his element.

“Have you been letting him smoke like this?” You ask Eddie, eyes widened in shock. Eddie shrugs, pressing the joint to his lips. “You’re a terrible friend.”

“I could shotgun him,” Eddie jokes lightheartedly, “but I don’t need him falling in love with me.”

“Like, when you shotgun a beer?” Steve asks curiously, eyes watching your movements carefully, lips closing around the joint and breathing in deep, chest heaving at the action. His look lingers down the valley of your chest before quickly averting back to your eyes, “I’ve done that before.”

You and Eddie both share a similar laugh, glancing over at Steve with amusement, Eddie offers a soft, “Uh—close, but not really.”

“Not close at all.” You shake your head, looking at Eddie with bemusement. “Steve, have you actually been able to get high? I mean, do you ever feel anything?”

“Well, there was that one time—“ Steve doesn’t elaborate, eyes turned up toward the ceiling as he thought, head tilted slightly, “but that wasn’t weed.”

Your mouth hung open slightly, watching Steve chew at his bottom lip, “I’m not even gonna ask,” You respond, glancing over at Eddie, “—wanna demonstrate?”

Eddie smiles widely, “My pleasure, sweetheart.” Eddie rests his hand on the side of your face, joint shoved between his lips as he breathed in the smoke before carefully holding it off to the side, using the leverage he had on your face to squeeze your mouth open, blowing the smoke into your own mouth, laughing airily as his tongue grazed your own.

Steve couldn’t do anything but stare, eyes glazed over in astonishment as he watched the exchange, both of you pulling back with a satiated smile.

“How have we never done that before?” Eddie asks curiously, pulling back with a subtle pout.

“Because, you disgust me.” You smile, lying through your teeth. You couldn’t openly admit how quickly your mind drifted elsewhere when you got this high, how easily a simple touch could drive you crazy.

Eddie was handsy like this, always finding a reason to cuddle up against you or kiss you lazily—and you didn’t try to stop him, but it was very few and far between that you actually allowed it. You were good at burying it away, offering a small peck or closed-mouth kiss in return, but even that was maddening. If it went further, Eddie would call it out immediately—he had no problem teasing you about it.

“Here, do Harrington.” Eddie suggests with a snide smirk, watching as you rolled your eyes annoyance.

You turned to a curious Steve with a small, comforting smile and mirrored Eddie’s actions, pressing the joint to your lips and grabbing at Steve’s face, which he welcomed easily, tilting his neck slightly as your palm curved around the underside of his firm jaw. You could feel the prickle of stubble against your fingertips, something that sent a surge of excitement through your body despite how hard you tried to ignore it.

“Do I just—“ Steve stammers, quickly interrupted by a head shake from you, pressing your lips to his fully, blowing the smoke into his mouth, a small noise escaping his throat in response, tongue grazing against your top lip accidentally as he pulled away, “—fuck, sorry.”

Eddie can see it on your face when you pull away, swallowing hard as you watched Steve lick his chapped lips, blurting out a, “No fuckin’ way.”

“What?” Both you and Steve respond in unison.

“That’s why you don’t want me kissing you?” Eddie asks, a snide smirk pulling at his face.

“Eddie,” You warn, “shut up.”

Steve eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, watching the exchange between you two.

“Let’s do it again.” Eddie urges, knowing exactly the type of reaction he would get if you let him, “One more time.”

“No.” You grumble, ignoring the immediate interest your body has in the matter.

It wasn’t that you didn’t find Eddie attractive, that wasn’t the case at all—but you and Eddie had always been careful about crossing that line. However, Eddie wasn’t the one who wanted that, it was you. He’d pounce on you in a heartbeat if you allowed it, and frankly, your judgement was skewed at the moment.

“Just the one,” He begs, “and I’ll leave it alone.”

It was a dangerous move to make and you blamed your lack of hesitancy on the high that was creeping in, huffing out a long sigh before waving him forward.

“Fine.” You grumble, an eager Eddie already poised to lean forward. Steve doesn’t know where to look, feeling like he might be intruding, but he watches on anyways.

Eddie presses his lips against yours fully, with all the confidence he can muster, tongue dragging along yours slowly, smoke forgotten about as it seeps through the cracks, bellowing out of his nose as he initiates the kiss. You moan brokenly, eyes falling shut as you played into his game, unable to help yourself. It was just too good.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says lovingly, pulling back for a brief moment, “you’ve been keeping secrets.”

“Am I missing something?” Steve asks, breaking through the tense silence that had developed between you and Eddie, your eyes glaring pensively into his own.

Eddie chuckles deeply, passing the joint to Steve, “I never really noticed until just now—“ He points at you sparingly, “It’s only ever when we smoke that she acts that way and I didn’t think anything of it until I watched you two. I assumed you were just playing it up to mess with me—“

“I like being kissed when I’m high,” You offer bluntly, “or just like—my mouth gets really sensitive, I can’t explain it.”

“I think you just did.” Eddie remarks, offering a sickeningly sweet smile your way.

“Is that bad?” Steve asks, still partially confused. “I don’t see how that’s a problem?”

Eddie makes a noise of triumph, “See, Steve gets it.”

“I get it.” Steve agrees, hands motioning toward himself.

“Great—you’re both geniuses. Now, can we move on?”

Eddie was resilient though—and apparently, so was Steve. They both share a look, similar to what you walked in on earlier. Your eyebrows furrow slightly, glancing between the two of them.

“Hey—no, what was that?” You ask, finger wagging back and forth between the two of them briefly. You’re almost embarrassed to ask, afraid you might be overthinking things. “Wait, are you both, like—“

“No!” Steve responds quickly, clearing his throat to better compose himself, “No, uh—we’ve kissed before but that’s it.”

Something tells you that's a lie.

“Steve was asking if I’ve ever had a threesome.” Eddie interrupts, “I told him no—unfortunately, Steve forced himself into a tricky predicament and now he’s completely in over his head, aren’t you pretty boy?”

“Was I supposed to say no?” Steve asks, like the idea seemed ridiculous. “Who says no to that?”

“Lots of people,” You tell him, “—you don’t need to feel obligated because it’s some, like, rite of fuckin’ passage. That’s all bullshit.”

“I mean, I wanted to.” Steve assures you, “I still want to.”

You press further, “But?”

“I might’ve played it up,” Steve admits, “They’ve both never done it before and I told them I had some experience with it.”

“Steve,” You groan, covering your face with your hands in frustration, “oh my god—you know what, it actually makes total sense.”

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Why you two are friends,” You tell him, holding up your fingers to emphasize your point, “Clueless, full of yourself, and way too horny.”

“So, we’re just drifting over your whole oral fixation thing?” Eddie laughs, “Like that wasn’t just a few minutes ago?”

You clench your jaw, snatching the joint from Steve’s hands angrily and taking a long, deep drag. You weren’t high enough to deal with this, not yet.

“Then what the fuck was that look?” You ask, “Or are we keeping secrets now, Eddie?”

And there’s nothing he hates more than his own words being used against him, a saccharine smile spreading across your face.

“I told Steve I’d be down to help him practice, but that we’d need to find another participant,” Eddie shrugs, “kinda defeats the purpose of a threesome if you can’t find a third.”

“I might’ve brought your name up earlier,” Steve admits shyly, “I was just joking initially—but you walked in right after that.”

It all makes sense then, the weird look and tension that lingered when you stepped foot inside Eddie’s trailer. You could feel it now, but less uncomfortable—and you almost, almost propositioned them yourself. But no, you weren’t nearly as bold as either of them. Plus, with the high kicking in, you couldn’t help yourself.

“I’m not having sex with either of you,” You tell them firmly, and Eddie has the courage to laugh, plucking the joint from your fingers and snuffing it out in the ashtray at his bedside, “not in a million fuckin’ years.”

“Hey, woah—woah,” Eddie chides, “slow your roll, sweetheart.”

Eddie was wounded, but he didn’t show it.

Steve blinks heavily and you can see it on his face, the switch in his demeanor as the weed settles in.

“I just wanted to—I don’t know, test it out?” Steve shrugs, “Some kissing and stuff.”

“Unless you’re afraid to watch us kiss,” Eddie presses, “is that it? Is it too much for you?”

He’s only teasing, but it’s enough to make you retort in annoyance.

“Oh, like when you nearly busted in your pants after I made out with Chrissy Cunningham in front of you at that party last year?” You ask with a snark to your tone, “I can handle myself a lot better than you can, Eddie.”

Steve eyes you wearily, still looking ridiculous in his work uniform, the vest bunching up around his stomach where his shirt had ridden up from him laying out on his side against Eddie’s bed.

“So, is that a yes?” Steve asks hopefully.

“On one condition,” You tell him, “we never speak of this again.”

“Deal.” They both respond in unison, far too eager.

It feels like a fever dream, Steve leaning over you to reach for Eddie, meeting him in the middle of your lap. He’d finally took the vest off after some persuasion from you, striped cotton shirt riding up in his stomach, the few buttons it did have were completely unbuttoned and failing to hide that patch of chest hair hidden underneath. Eddie smiled into the kiss, the dimple in his cheek deepening at the emotion he showed, the familiar sense of giddiness spreading throughout his body.

You’re not sure what to do, where to look, until Eddie’s hand is squeezing at your thigh, over the material of your jeans, a reassuring pressure that reminded him that you were still a part of this—he wanted you to watch, as taboo as it was for you.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Eddie assures you, mouth still very much involved with Steve, both of there eyes shut in pure bliss as their mouths met at an unhurried pace, all tongue and sloppy cadence. “You can stare all you want.”

And you do it, falling back on your palms as Steve’s hands fell in front of himself, just between the space in your legs, your chest rising and falling with every slow breath you took, afraid to move, afraid to interrupt the moment—until Steve separates from Eddie without hesitation and pulls you to him, the heat of his palm spreading out across your cheek as he kissed you gently, less forced that with Eddie.

This was new to him, and you; he didn’t want to come on too strong and you appreciated that, but it wasn’t nearly what you were hoping for. You needed the intensity, all of it—if this was following you all to the grave, it was going to be worth it.

Eddie makes a noise, noting the frustration on your face.

He tuts, running his fingers gingerly through the back of Steve’s hair, “More, Harrington.”

You laugh softly against his lips, “Really, it’s okay—I don’t need you to hold back.”

“You sure?” Steve asks quietly, noses bumping together gently in the process, leaving slow, lingering kisses against your lips, the kind that had you chasing after him for another. “I can get a little, uh—“

“Intense?” You finish for him, “Even better.”

Steve chuckles at that, slipping his hands around your backside until they’re resting just underneath the curve of your ass, adjusting you gently until you’re laid out against the mattress, Eddie following along too as he sprawls out on his side, fingers drifting along the skin of your exposed stomach, shirt pulled up slightly in the process.

Steve follows through on his words, hand pulling at your thigh until it bracketed against his hip, tongue delving into your mouth without hesitation, alighting every nerve-ending possible, an audible moan slipping from your throat and into Steve’s mouth. He bucks his hips involuntarily through his movements, pulling at your hands until they’re locked above your head in his grip, freeing one of his hands to tip your chin up, kissing you until you can’t breathe, pulling away briefly to allow yourself the luxury, catching glimpse of Eddie’s relaxed state, palm rubbing at the front of his sweatpants lazily. Steve notices it too, glancing down with a soft laugh.

“You did say ‘and stuff’,” Eddie defends weakly, his idle hand still resting comfortably against the expanse of your stomach, a constant reminder of his presence—not that you could forget it, “don’t worry, I’ll keep it in my pants.”

“Don’t,” You tell him honestly, and Steve pulls back slightly, startled by your words, “—what? I said no sex, that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy all the other stuff.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks for reassurance.

You nod, “I mean, I would be doing the same thing to you, but uh—“ You looked up to your joined hands and back down at him, “there seems to be a problem.”

“O-oh,” Steve responds quickly, releases your hands gently. You smile devilishly, hands fisted into the front of Eddie’s shirt to pull him closer, “can I touch you?” Steve asks, neither pleading nor begging, rather just checking in.

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” You say admittedly, shifting your legs until Steve can shove his knee in the apex, Eddie’s lips becoming curious as they latch into your neck, “—hey, no marks.”

Eddie makes a small noise of disapproval, the flurry of his hair near your face smelling of cheap weed and old spice, “Touch her, Steve.” Eddie instructs, his wandering hands following the line of your body until they reach the button on your jeans, deft fingers working away to pop it open.

Your hands feel empty, jittery with anticipation and the only thing you can think to do is busy them, rubbing your open palm over the front of Eddie’s sweats, a noise of approval leaving his throat as his lips latch onto your neck. He ruts slowly, savoring the friction as his hand finds its way toward Steve’s thigh and over the front of his own jeans—Eddie knows exactly what Steve’s packing, unbeknownst to you and the smug grin on his face is obvious as his hands search and squeeze gently, a rough, throaty chuckle leaving Steve’s mouth as he kisses you once more. It’s deep and needy, teeth dragging against your bottom lip as his hands move in time, slipping over the front of your underwear, his fingers rubbing over the soft patch of wetness.

Steve eyes connect with yours in a look of knowing, mumbling a soft, “Yeah?” at the obvious state of your arousal.

“I told you it was a problem,” You say through a weak laugh that quickly turns into a gasp as Steve moves the fabric to the side and runs a finger through your folds, gauging your response, “I really can’t help it.”

“And thank god for that,” Eddie remarks, shoving Steve out of the way gently to pull your mouth to his, kissing you hungrily, tongue darting out towards yours in a challenge, begging you to chase him, “right, Harrington?”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, looking up at an amused Steve, his fingers working slowly against your cunt, careful touches until your face scrunches up in pleasure, finding just the spot he was looking for, “He talks too much, doesn’t he?” Steve asks with a flippant tone, glancing over at his friend who can’t be bothered to care, mouth dragging against yours as you pull away to speak, a soft moan slipping from your lips.

“Absolutely.” You nod slowly, gripping the front of Eddie’s jeans a little tighter, his cock throbbing underneath your touch.

“I know something that’ll keep my mouth busy,” Eddie hints, earning a skeptical look from you.

But, lines were already being crossed and you couldn’t be bothered to stop him, offering another nod his way.

“Fuck—go ahead,” You breath and Eddie pulls away swiftly, you glance up at Steve, watching as he tried to process what was happening, his own cock straining behind the zipper of his jeans, “come here.”

Steve shifts hesitantly on his knees, your fingers slipping past his waistband, pulling him the rest of the way.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Steve interrupts, your fingers trailing over the bulge in his jeans, “I don’t really—“

“Steve,” You drag out, “I want to.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks.

It’s endearing, how often he tried to check in with you—and maybe it’s his own nervousness doing the talking, but it’s comforting knowing that you weren’t the only one feeling as if you were losing your mind.

“It’s either your mouth, your fingers, or your dick—” You list off, shifting slightly as Eddie pulled at your jeans, interjecting with a snide, “I know what I’d chose.” You smile up at Steve, “You heard him, Harrington.”

And to be fair, you had a sense of Steve’s size, but it’s much more intimidating when he yanks at his jeans, underwear following suit until his cock was standing stiff in front of your face—and suddenly you’re jealous that you’ve shit on Steve’s flirting tactics for so long, because the confidence was absolutely justified. Eddie’s fingers squeeze at your thighs, bring you back to reality and to the realization of your bare cunt positioned in front of Eddie’s face—all weird and awkward tension completely dismissed when he smiles up at you, offering a teasing, “Go easy on her, big boy.”

Steve is just as unfiltered as Eddie in his actions and words, but while Eddie is the type to offer you constant praise and sweet remarks, Steve is nothing but a mess in his own mind, murmuring out a soft, repetitive, “Fuck, fuck,” as you mouth at the tip of his cock, tongue running along the slit to taste at the rivulet of precome resting there, the weight of his cock against your tongue driving you wild, a tinge of excitement running through your body as Eddie’s tongue flattens out over your sensitive clit, moaning from the over-stimulation.

You can’t help but stare up at Steve’s parted lips, plump and wet from how often he licked them, eyes solely focused on you as his hesitant hands came up to cup your face, fingers gliding into the hair at the base of your neck, giving him an unobstructed view as your cheeks hollowed out, mouth sinking down on him in languid strokes, leaning heavily on your elbow as you free hand reached up to cover what your mouth couldn’t reach. It only seems to spur Steve further, pleading eyes boring into his own—you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Steve nods, using the leverage he had to push his cool deeper until your eyes water from the force of it, pulling back with a strained gasp, wiping at your spit covered lips.

“Fuck, I’ve never—“ Steve sighs, “People always say it’s too much,” He’s not sure what he’s trying to say, but he’s staring down with intrigue, the gears turning in his head, “can you take more?”

Eddie’s working you up quickly, tongue flicking over your clit in hurried movements, using his hands to keep your thighs spread to the point of strain, muscles protesting the stretch. Your hand leaves Steve’s cock briefly, burying into the curls at the top of Eddie’s head, hips bucking up into his face selfishly.

Eddie shakes his head slightly, pulling away in punishment.

“Answer him, sweetheart.” He orders, “Don’t let me distract you.”

You give him an incredulous look, filling with a sense of rage at his stubborn, only interrupted when Steve’s fingers tapping at the underside of your chin, urging you to look up at him.

His eyebrows raise in question, earning a jerky nod in return, letting him guide his cock against your lips, his own hand gripped firmly at his shaft like he’s struggling to stave off his own orgasm, a small pout forming in his lips as he watched his cock slowly disappearing into your mouth until it’s just as deep again. You breath through your nose, a slow, deep intake as he pushes even further and holds you there, his head falls back, “Fuck—that’s so,” Steve lingers on the words, interrupted by Eddie’s never-ending comments.

“She likes the praise, Steve.” Eddie supplies, “No reason to hold back now.”

Steve nods absently, groaning out a broken, “Good girl,” and you swallow around him at that, pulling an even needy groan from his chest, “Oh, good fuckin’ girl.”

He pulls back suddenly, allowing you some relief before slipping back in, his hips moving eagerly into your mouth, hands still gripped firmly at the back of your neck as he fucks into your mouth just as you hoped for, taking as much as him as you could—even if it still wasn’t enough.

You can feel the deep pit of pleasure in your belly, thighs struggling against Eddie’s hold as you tip over the edge unexpectedly, moaning against Steve’s cock—and he’s not expecting it either, gasping out a desperate, “Where? Where can I—“

Steve’s never gone so far to come inside someone’s mouth without asking, but you don’t need to hear it, urging him along with your mouth, lips closing around him tightly as you work him over until he’s coming with a rough groan, pulling gently at your hair from the sheer force that his orgasm hits him, hips thrusting slightly as he rides it out, coming down your throat in long, thick spurts. It’s an afterthought to swallow as he pulls his dick out slowly, resting back on his calves and closing his eyes in exhaustion, letting go of your hair to rest his palms against the mattress.

Eddie looks up with a satisfied grin, having witnessed the exchange with a heated gaze, mouth still shining with your wetness and making him look insane as he laughed, “She’s a keeper, right?” Eddie compliments.

Steve nods dumbly, taking a deep breath as he speaks, “I’ve never came in anyone’s mouth before—that was…”

“Really?” You ask with a lilt to your voice, “Never?”

Steve shakes his head, staring at you openly until Eddie’s forcing his way back up and connecting his mouth with yours sloppily, chuckling through the motions as he pulls Steve down clumsily—he can taste Steve on your tongue, the headiness of it and you can taste yourself just as well, an intense exchange as Eddie sighs into your mouth, “Wanna taste her?” He asks to Steve, tilting his head to the side as Steve hovered over, face just a few inches away from both of you. He smile slightly, connecting his lips to Eddie’s with practiced ease, allowing the dirty exchange of Eddie’s tongue licking into his mouth, pulling on the metalhead's hair in response that has Eddie groaning playfully, teeth showing through his grin.

“I might have to give up that other threesome.” Steve jokes, loose hair bouncing against his forehead as he pulls away, both you and Eddie looking up at him curiously.

“You heard the lady—it’s a one and done deal.” Eddie explains with a hint of sadness, playing up the emotion.

But, Eddie knows far too well, eyeing you until you finally give in with an exasperated sigh.

“We tell no one,” You emphasize, “got it?”

Steve nods eagerly.

“Told you,” Eddie teases, tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth as he smiles, glaring up at Steve, “didn’t I?”

“Told him what?”

“Steve’s a little irresistible to the ladies and gents,” Eddie says knowingly, “even the stubbornest ones.”

You roll your eyes dramatically, “We can forget him next time.” You tell Steve, which he shrugs in response too, seemingly agreeing.

“Hey,” Eddie responds with offense, voice cracking slightly, “what—that’s not fair.”

“She’s the boss.” Steve defends, finding the time to pull his pants back up and shift to lay beside you on the bed.

“Oh wait,” The thought dawns on you suddenly, staring down at Eddie’s noticeably less prominent bulge, “—you didn’t—“

“I did,” Eddie laughs uncomfortably, shifting to reveal noticeable wet spot at the front of his sweats, “speaking of, I need to go change.”

“I’ll keep her company.” Steve grins devilishly, letting Eddie flick his vest back in his direction, the material hitting him directly in the chest as Eddie disappears down the hall.

Eddie’s only slightly offended when he returns to Steve pressing you down into the mattress again, teasing you with the slowest kisses possible. But you pull him in without question, letting him fall into a lazy rhythm of trading kisses—and maybe when the high wore of you’d regret all of it, but you can’t be bothered to care.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #steddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #my writing #1kfic

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