Latest Posts by ohdeersthings - Page 3

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˚୨୧₊♱ deer dolly ao3 link

♱; All characters featured in this story belong to VivziePop. This story is a deviation from the canon material.

part i

part ii

part iii

part iv

and more soon!

I'm sobbing

Left her behind

Lucifer x Angel Wife Reader

Synopsis: Lucifer left you behind to rule hell and have lilith so you were behind cleaning up your broken piece

Your wings were bigger than your body but your heart was bigger than your wings. You were an archangel helping your god important plans for mankind. Your husband Lucifer was a Seraphim and you always wonder how you two ever gotten married.

An Archangel and a Seraphim what an unexpected pair, isn’t it?

As you were talking to a human Adam about what god had told you to tell him. A bad feeling was upon you as you excused yourself to go back to heaven to find your husband.

An hour had gone by and you still couldn’t find him til you saw Lilith and you husband kissing. You were shocked and upset until god touched your shoulder ushering back into heaven saying he’ll handle it. Of course you couldn’t question someone you absolutely trust so you flew up with tears hurriedly to go find Gabriel and Michael.

That’s when you found out your husband has been banished with everyone else who betrayed God and heaven.

They were sent to hell as Lucifer as the leader of it and Lilith as queen. You sobbed so loudly make Gabriel hushed you quietly as he sway you left and right to get you to calm yourself.

Michael came back in with some ice cream with a sad smile. “Let forget about your ex husband my little Beauty” And you agreed. That was 200 years ago and during that time you found out Lucifer had a daughter which made you completely forget about him focusing about your home more importantly.

Today was your birthday and you had to go to a meeting about the extermination in hell.

Back in hell after getting a meeting to heaven he told his daughter an important story.

“Over 100 years there was these two angels one in a lower class and another in a higher class they loved each nonetheless. Married in heaven but soon the married man became regrettably enchanted with a human bringing her with him to his chaos but leaving his heart where heaven was at” Lucifer explained

“Y-You left your real wife, dad?” She asked him shock and sadness looking at the sky.

“Sadly so, she was supposed to be your mom” He chuckled as tears slipped out his eyes. The amount of times he goes over to see you but you never reciprocate breaks his heart.

He still wears his gold wedding ring from the day he married you and he can never forget that day.

“Don’t worry charlie i’ll win her back no matter the cost and I’ll bring her here to hell for her to rule with me” He reassured her with determination. They both look up to the sky to see a rare white star down at hell.

Say no more 🫡

Lessons in Serving your King

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Prince!Bakugo, Suggestive. Word Count: 1.6k.

Summary: Closing in on his 20th name day, tradition dictates that Prince Bakugo choose his first concubines.

A/N: This might become a series, but don't hold your breath.

'I don't want a fucking -.'

Grabbing her son by the cheeks, Mitsuki Bakugo fixes the young prince still with a cold stare. 'You will do as you're told.'

'But -'

'It is tradition, Katsuki. Not even your ego is large enough to put an end to that.' She smirks before releasing her hold and wipes a hand on the left hip of her dress. 'Now, come on... You're late.'

Huffing, Bakugo tugs at his shirt to smooth the wrinkles left by his mother, but follows on her heels obediently. Usually, he'd put up more of a fight, throw a proper tantrum, but the pit of curiosity growing in his stomach stops him making too much fuss. He's fucking human, after all. Of course, he's going to be at least a little interested in the collection of concubines that had been assembled specifically for his perusal.

That didn't mean he had any intention of choosing any of them, though.

The doors of the main hall seem more daunting than usual, but Bakugo hides his trepidation well.

Or so he thinks.

Mitsuki's hand touches softly on his shoulder, guiding him, not through the main hall, but down the corridor. She offers out her elbow, letting him cling to her as they continue to drift closer to a small, more intimate, service room.

The marble clicks under their shoes, the sound amplified endlessly as it rings behind them announcing their arrival. Large windows scatter light, bringing out the red in both Bakugo and his mother's eyes as they pass the selection of special guards already stationed outside the room. All seven of them, five sworn to his mother and two to him, are dressed from head to toe in royal finery with the lightest of chain mail glittering over their chests. Swords hang from their hips, but Bakugo knows there are much more deadly weapons hidden under their clothes and tucked away from prying eyes.

Captain Aizawa, one of Mitsuki's most trusted knights bows low when they reach the door.

Reaching out, Mitsuki presses a hand to his shoulder and pushes him straight again. 'Enough of that, you'll put your back out.'

Aizawa's mouth moves to argue, but Mitsuki doesn't allow his voice to summon a sound.

'Shouta, you have more than earned the right not to bow.' She chides in a way that makes goose-flesh break out on the other guards, but the Captain simply laughs.

'Is the prince ready, My Lady?'

Mitsuki's hand wraps around her son's bicep giving him a firm squeeze. 'Oh, you know him. Dragged here kicking and screaming.'

Bakugo scowls.

'But, I'm sure he'll manage.'

Another guard, tall and broad in the shoulders with a close crop of dark hair and a booming voice clears his throat. 'If I may speak out of turn, Captain?'

'You will not Yoarashi.'

Mitsuki waves him off. 'Oh, let the boy speak Shouta.'

The guard, Yoarashi, smiles. His teeth are too big for his mouth, but somehow there's still something strikingly handsome about him. Bakugo hates it. 'The consorts have outdone themselves this time, I've never seen a more stunning array of -.'

Captain Aizawa silences his guard with a raised hand. 'That's quiet enough, I think the Queen understands your sentiment.'

'Quite.' Mitsuki smiles, locking a chuckle behind her teeth. 'Speaking of the wonderful job my husbands consort has done, I think it's time to see what Inko has found for us, don't you, Katsuki?'

Bakugo nods, it's all he ca manage with the nerves threatening to make his knees wobble like some common whore. His jaw is tight, teeth clenched in his mouth, but it soon looses as he the doors are thrown wide and he's allowed to step into the room.

Inside the room is dark, the thick red curtains covering the windows putting an end to any natural light that should attempt to slink inside. Instead, the room is illuminated by a series of high torches that cast a godly glow about and perfectly highlighting the row of people stood across the centre of the room.

At once, Inko is upon them. She wraps chubby arms around Bakugo without a second thought and greets his mother with a warm kiss to her hand when offered. Following at her heel is Izuku, her darling son. 'Brother.' Izuku smiles.

'Half Brother.' Bakugo spits the former piece of his sentence, enjoying the way it feels between his lips – the distance it offers him from the man before him. They're the same age. Both Mitsuki and Inko had been pregnant at the same time and the boys born mere months apart, although Inko had done the chief portion of the nursing; especially when Mitsuki's milk had dried up. Something that had lead both women to an unlikely friendship.

'I heard you've outdone yourself this time.' Mitsuki pulls at Bakugo, steering him around to the front of the room.

Bakugo's eyes wonder. There's a conversation flowing in the air around him, but he pays no heed. How can he, when the most beautiful man he has ever laid eyes on is looking directly at him.

The man lifts his head. He is bare to the waist with only the smallest piece of cloth to cover his dignity. If Bakugo where to walk around him, which he just might, he'd bet he'd be able to see his ass in all it's glory.

He has red eyes, violent carnelian, that pierce right to Bakugo's soul and red hair that is tied neatly in a bun atop his head. Licking his lips when he catches the princes' eye, the man smiles, flashing a row of blade-like teeth that threaten to bring Bakugo to his knees.

'Did you hear?' Mitsuki pats Bakugo's lapel.

He didn't, but he nods anyway.

His eyes slip further down the line, silently comparing each concubine to the next, but no-one compares to the red-eyed man until his eyes are blessed by you.

You're near the end, stood beside two others that don't even come close to your beauty with your chin tilted to the floor and your hands clasped neatly before you. Like the others, you're dressed in almost nothing, but it's the bright red 'V' painted onto your skin across the top of your breast bone that has him pausing.

He's seen the mark before and a cursory glance back down the line tells him exactly where. The red head, amongst two or three others, also bare the mark.

Bakugo swallows.

Already he can feel his breeches tightening uncomfortably.

'How many?' He snaps, forcing his eyes from the line and onto Inko.

She blinks. 'Pardon?'

'How many... For my... For my harem?'

'Oh. Most choose at least six to begin with, but after that is custom to add another concubine for each year until you reach 29. Sometimes other kingdoms will offer then as gifts, but you're more than welcome to dismiss -.'

Bakugo raises his hand. 'I don't want a history lesson.'

'Oh, I -.' Inko blushes.

'Brat, watch your tongue...' Mitsuki raises her hand to crack him across the back of the head, but the prince side steps her assault easily.

'I want that one...' He points at you, eyes narrowed and hungry before he turns, pointing at the red haired man at the other end of the room. 'And him. That's all.'

Mitsuki's brow furrows. 'Two? Inko here scourers the kingdom for the finest it had to offer and you choose only two?'

Bakugo folds his arms. He can feel your eyes, the red-heads too, burning through his skin. It makes him hot, makes him wonder what it'll be like when your eyes grow heavy, when they're spotted with ears and your mouths are full of his tongue, his fingers, his cock.

Clearing his throat, he tries to readjust his breeches.

He won't have to imagine soon. No, soon, you'll be his.

'Have them brought to my rooms tomorrow.' Turning on his heel he shouts over his shoulder before storming from the room before his cock begins to soak into his breeches.

Tomorrow, he thinks as soon as the doors slam shit behind him.

That should give him enough time to fist himself stupid to the thought of red eyes and glittering skin.

Hopefully, that would stop him making a fool of himself at the first meeting.

Bakugo already looks bored when you're brought into his rooms at noon the following day. The door closes behind you, a guard having performed the customary introductions, and all too quickly you're swallowed by the nerves that climb up your body and twist around your lungs.

Adjusting his seat, Bakugo pulls a foot up onto his chair and spreads his knees. A bark leaves his chest that he hopes is harsher than it feels. 'I don't fuck virgins...'

You hear the wet click of Kirishima's throat from beside you in the silence of the room. Even though the red ink is gone, the fact of your both being intact remains the same. 'Uhm, my lord... I mean – Prince Bakugo, I'm... I think there's been some mistake, we're – we're both -.'

'I know.' He waves his hand. Anticipation creates pins and needles in his thighs. Even if he wanted to fuck right now, he's not sure his body would hold out long enough. Maybe, five orgasms in the space of a day was too much.

'Well, you can see how this might be a problem then...' Twisting his knuckles around each other, Kirishima chews at his lip and forces a weak smile. It's strange how he makes six-foot of man look almost as small as you are, but he does it easily and blushes pretty to boot.

'How -.' He clears his throat. 'How are we supposed to serve you if -.'

'You're going to fuck each other, first.' He arches an eyebrow, drawling as if the solution to his little problem has been more than obvious. A smirk curls his lip. 'I'll watch.'

-> Masterlist

I need to call my husband 🫠🫠🫡

Bakugou loves the pitiful whine you make against the curve of his neck when you get tired riding him. Your arms unable to hold yourself up any longer as you press your chest to his, thighs tighten on either side of his hips as you trap the building heat between your bodies.

He loves the way you feebly roll your hips, tired from the exertion as you continue to seek out that delicious friction. The movement barely enough as you throb around his cock, huffing as he lets you sulk a little longer. Strong, calloused palms stroke your thighs as he presses a kiss to the side of your face.

He loves it, because it means you need him to help get yourself off— because you can’t do it without him. No matter how many fingers you shove inside your drooling cunt or how fast you spin circles against your puffy clit it can never compare.

“Please, Katsuki.” You breathe against his neck, warm lips pressed against his pulse point as he finally decides to take pity on you. His hands smooth along your skin before he wraps his arms around you, holding you to his chest as he plants his feet on the bed.

“Can’t even cum without me, hah?” He grins against the side of your face as he starts a brutal pace, skin echos against skin as your nails claw at his shoulder blades, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve got you. You just need someone to take care of ya, don’tcha?”

And what Bakugou loves more than anything else is the pretty face you make when he makes you cream all over his cock.

He rasps, “I got you pretty girl, just cum for me—”

And you always do.

Just knock me out for the count 🫠

I’m needing a fic about kats taking the reader inside and helping them warm up after spending most of the day out in the snow!!!! 😉😏

😵‍💫yeah

-

“you goin’ shy on me now- open your fuckin’ legs,” the blonde was grinning from ear to ear as he swatted at your thighs.

you let them spread wider from where they had been clamped around his waist, your mouth falling agape as he fed a few more inches into your sopping pussy, his thumb brushing over your clit as he did. he had you sprawled out in front of the fireplace, flames licking at the freshly chopped wood, cozy heat warming your skin. you both had been outside, baku shoveling the snow from the driveway while you pestered him accordingly. all it had taken was a few stray snowballs thrown at his head for him to drop his shovel and lunge at you like a child. you two had ended up rolling around in the blanket of white for hours, chasing after each other, chucking snowballs, and then of course…actually clearing the driveway and path to the front porch.

by the time you two had made it in, you were both freezing, soaked with melted ice. he was quick to spark up a fire, strip you both of your clothes to wash them, and now he was warming you up in a katsuki fashion.

he leaned over you, pressing his mouth to your neck to fawn over while his bulky size kept your legs spread wide, his hands were slipping under your knees, pushing them towards your chest as his cock burrowed within you. you could feel the coolness of the thin chain around his neck and how it was contrasting your heated skin nicely. his nails dented smiles in your skin, his teeth grazed so nicely against your throat as he fucked you.

“fuck- ‘suki,” you purred, your own nails going to claw at his broad shoulders, arching up into him in search for more.

“yeah? you like that, princess?”

you nodded dumbly, speckling your own kisses along his sharp jaw.

“you better fuckin’ cum on my cock then, think you can- shit- think you can do that, f’me.”

his own end was near but his hips didn’t cease nor stutter, not with the way you were clenching around him like a vice, sucking him deeper with each punch of his hips. he had to see you come undone first.

“yeah- yeah i can…”

his crimson eyes met yours, darkened with hunger and determination, “yeah i know you can, such a perfect pussy for me. go ahead, make a mess then..”

☆

Do I want a mirror above my bed now 👀 Uhhhh....amazon??....🫠

Warnings| slight size kink, slight cervix fucking, mirror sex.

“You’ve never had anyone this deep,” Katsuki muses. You assume he must have deduced this from your expression. From what you can make of it through your blurry vision, you look stunned. Disbelieving of how far inside you his cock is lodged.

He shifts his hips and your eyes cross. Katsuki chuckles. “Oh, sweetheart,” he coos. “That’s really fucking sad.” He withdraws from your body, hips sticky with your mixed arousal and slams into you with enough force to jostle you up the bed. Your lips part on a silent scream, your reflection in the mirror above Katsuki’s bed mocking you. His head blocks your view as he drags his tongue across your parted lips, dipping it inside of your mouth to coax you into a kiss.

Katsuki savors every shift in your expression. Gaze trained on the way your lips tremble each time he bumps into your g spot. The way your brows twitch downward when he grinds his cock into the sensitive, gummy walls. “Can’t believe no one has ever reached your g spot,” he laughs. He adjusts you slowly, lifting your thighs from around his waist to perch them on his shoulders. His weight sinks you into the mattress like this his cock reaching somewhere even deeper.

“This—” he smirks near your ear, grasping the fleshy lobe between his teeth as he cups your ass to hold you steady, his cock catches on something inside of you, a place that feels weird and sensitive, that has your legs threatening to kick out “—is your cervix, angel.”

Your lids flutter and Katsuki tuts. “Eyes open, baby,” he warns, words shaky. “Look at yourself,” he reminds you and your eyes immediately rise to the mirror on his ceiling, you can barely focus on anything but the bruising of your pussy under Katsuki’s fucking but your expression becomes burned into your brain. “You look so good getting good dick,” he laughs. “Fucked out and adorable.”

Some sort of your brain registers that you’ve scratched red marks into he pale skin of Katsuki’s back. That you can see the shifting muscles of his back with each of his thrusts. That you have a perfect view of his tight ass and the way those muscles flex. But in the forefront of your mind you can only hear Katsuki’s words.

“Good dick has you glowing,” he gloats. And you have to agree. You look good spread under him, eyes hazy and lips parted to gulp air into your lungs. “My dick has you glowing.”

You can only whine your agreement. You don’t think you’ve ever looked this debauched or felt this sexy getting fucked but once again Katsuki takes a first you don’t even know existed. You’re creaming around his cock before you even notice it and his pace barely even falters. He fucks you right through it words of encouragement whispered into your neck.

You lock eyes with your reflection and you swear it winks back at you. Finally, we’re getting the dick we deserve, echoes in your mind but you’re too cock drunk to decipher whether it’s a conscious thought or not. All you know is you agree.

If there is one phrase that can be used in a fic that will have me on me on my knees instantly....

"You came?

"..You called,"

GOD THE GRIP IT HAS ON MY HEART

Jolly Green Giant being "Baddy Green Daddy" had me cracking up. Yall have a fun and safe Happy Thanksgiving ❤️

"What would you do Hero? The girl? Or the city?" "THE CITY" "Oh? So you would sacrifice one for all? Oh honey, *turns to kidnapped partner, small smirk* I would kill them all just for you,"

superhero romance is actually so fun because what does “I would die for you” mean from a guy who would die for anyone?

Well damn, you ain't gotta ask me twice 🤪

thinking about best friend!bakugo who is at his wits end hearing about how unsatisfied one boyfriend after the next leaves you until one day you're babbling about your most recent awful sexual encounter and he sighs exasperatedly and asks "if i fuck you will you quit yer bitchin'?"

taglist: @bakubunny @callm3senpaii @i-literally-cant-with-this @darkstarlight82

"WHY CANT IT BE ME GOD DAMMIT" 😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻

Pro hero Bakugou crashing into a building from a villain flinging him across the block. “Damn,” he grunts, sitting up from the rubble and smoke with his back aching from the impact.

And he looks around to gather his surroundings only to see you shivering in the corner of your apartment because your living room suddenly imploded while watching tv. You’re wide eyed and dumbfounded, covered in soot, in your homewear that’s just a tiny top and panties- and your confused call of Bakugou’s hero name bounces right off his head as he follows the little happy trail under your belly down into your panties’ hemline.

“Damn,” Bakugou says again, and sounds more breatheless than when he smashed through fucking concrete.

I wish I could hug my inner child like this and tell them everything turns out okay 🥹

Ughh my heart is breaking because I can imagine it becomes the talk of the castle a year later when the new prince that was born has striking red eyes thay resemble a certain guard who may or may not have snuck into your chamber when you caught your new King in bed with a concubine so if he can fool around why can't you? Especially with the man you truly love.

More fic ideas that I have absolutely no intention of writing.

Knight Bakugou who’s positioned to guard you. The King wants the best to protect his Princess, and Bakugou is the best. Besides, it’s not like the man had a choice, he doesn’t want to lose his job— or his life.

You hate to admit that Bakugou is good at his job, much better than the men that had tried to guard you before. Making it difficult for you to sneak out into the gardens in the evening to watch the stars, or to sneak into town for the weekend festivities.

You should hate him for ruining the routine you’d managed to work yourself into over the years, for stealing away the freedom that you’d rewarded yourself when no one else would offer you the same luxury. But somehow you can’t force yourself to dislike him, there’s something behind his cold and brash personality that has you inquisitive to find out more. Enjoying trying your best to rile him up or push his buttons— spilling your evening tea over his pristine boots, or dropping your towel in front of him when you prepare for your evening bath.

Knight Bakugou knows exactly what you’re trying to do, and he’s determined he won’t fall for your tricks— which is why he’s just as surprised as you are when he finds himself outside with you past curfew in the castle grounds watching the stars. But instead of staring up at the gorgeous night sky, he finds himself turning his head to the side to see how the moonlight glows against your skin. It’s just another thing that has now woven its way into your daily routine together, and as he walks you back to your quarters each night you like to fool yourself that it’s because he wants to, not because his life depends on it.

It isn’t long before the King begins to bring in suitors from neighbouring towns to vie for your hand in marriage. None of which are out of love, but a necessity to strengthen alliances between armies. Which is why it doesn’t matter if you even like any of them, because the choice won’t be yours. The men are scheduled to fight for your hand, and as you sit and wait for them to joust you notice Bakugou clad in full metal armour across the field.

The King positioned him as his strongest guard— because he is.

A man worthy enough to beat his strongest soldier is a man worthy enough to take his daughters hand in marriage. And yet as you watch every man come head to head with Bakugou he beats every single one.

And you think Bakugou has just beat these men because he wants to show how strong and powerful he is, but secretly it’s because he’s so in love with you.

You can’t tell whether your father is proud or annoyed at the fact, especially when Bakugou knocks the son, young Midoriya, off his horse. The man that you believed the King wanted to you marry, the most suitable alliance available.

It’s a few weeks later when Bakugou is sent away on a mission by the King. The head of an army sent out to pillage a neighbouring village who threaten to compromise the power of you’ve forged.

The morning he’s scheduled to leave is the first time he lets you kiss him, he lets you get that close. As though he’s wondering whether he’ll even return home himself. Standing in his quarters in the lower part of the castle, clad in your pyjamas and your feet freezing against the cold stone as he cradles you in his arms. Pouring every ounce of emotion into the kiss as he finally allows himself to have you, even if just for a few selfish moments. Bakugou reckons it’s worth the risk of dying, to feel your lips on his again. A fellow guard, Kirishima catches you both as he takes Bakugou away from you— watching them ride off on horseback as you still feel the warmth of him surrounding you.

You stay awake each night wondering whether he’s even still alive too— whether you’ll ever see him again. The new guards are just as useless as before and you find yourself longing for his safe return.

It’s two months before your father has another man lined up as a potential suitor. Wondering who might fight for your honour now that Bakugou is gone, but you’re shocked when the King says there’s no need for such friviolity. That the wedding is scheduled, and it’s the right reason to strengthen the Kingdom. It’s not for love, it could never be when your heart belongs to Bakugou.

And even if you told your father about your feelings for his guard, it would be issuing Bakugou his own death sentence if he even managed to make it home at all.

But fate really can be a cruel, fickle thing— and as fate would have it Bakugou returns home the day you’re standing at the altar wearing a pretty wedding dress like you’d dreamed about, while you’re waiting to be betrothed to another man.

🙌🏻❤️😭

TITLE: lights will guide you home

PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

SUMMARY: Soul-lights aren’t as common in this day and age as they were in the past, before quirks, but they’re common enough that people do still find their soulmates.

At thirteen, you meet Bakugou Katsuki, and he lights up for you in orange and gold. You tell him he's your soulmate. He sneers and tells you that you aren't his. He makes your adolescence miserable until you part ways.

You meet again as adults, late at night, in a grocery store, over a pile of bok choy. He apologizes for how he treated you when you were children.

(In which you have a choice—to reject Bakugou's apology, reject him, or to let him show you the man he's become, to learn with him what it means to love and forgive.)

TAGS: soulmate au, trope inversion/subversion, slow burn, getting together, falling in love, fluff, aged up characters, pro-hero characters, eventual smut, mild bullying

STATUS: Ongoing

WORD COUNT: 22.1K

Chapter One: In which you meet your soulmate, and he’s nothing like you dreamed about. Chapter Two: In which you get your bok choy (mission accomplished), grapple with old feelings you have about Bakugou, and experience new ones. Chapter Three: In which you and Bakugou get coffee, and you really don't know what to make of him. Chapter Four: In which you bump into Pro-Hero Dynamight on the street, and he invites himself on your errand. Chapter Five: In which Bakugou does something nice and proves that he's grumpy not just in-person but through texts, too. Chapter Six: In which Japan thinks you're dating Pro-Hero Dynamight, and you desperately need that to not be a thing. Chapter Seven: In which Bakugou has a kitten photoshoot in your apartment. Chapter Eight: In which Bakugou continues to feed you, and you have a realization: He’s handsome, it dawns on you. It’s like wires rearrange in your head, and you can’t stop looking at him. Chapter Nine: In which you find out running away from Bakugou is a bad idea, you become a familiar face at his agency, and he finds a way, as always, to make you feel cared for.

Read on AO3

GOT ME KICKING MY FEET AND WANTING A WHOLE 3 SEASON 23 EPISODE SERIES

b.katsuki + lava Quirk!wife (both Pro Heroes)

☆—a.n; i woke up today feeling feisty lol not really xd just wanted some "i'm crazy as you are" type of love today lmao✌🏼🖤

Bakugou Katsuki is obsessed with you.

And he doesn't even try to hide it.

You're his sidekick. You had trained in his Agency since you were a mere brat doing your internship your first year at UA. Of course, there were literally counted the times you had encountered him in person. The other Heroes that joined his Agency were the ones in charge of the kids. They had told you how Dynamight hated when babysitting time came every year, he wouldn't even participate in those actually. So they would advice to not cross his path.

From time to time, Dynamight would watch their sparrings sessions, gave them a bit of advice–more like mean criticism yell at them. But he had better things to do, people to save, villains to get their asses destroyed by him. He was not going to waste his time with annoying brats like you.

He had heard of you, of course. The one brat that could control and handle freaking lava like it was fucking nothing. Of course when he saw you, he thought his sidekick had pulled a prank on him, joking to see if would be excited about the idea of having someone with that type of Quirk in his Agency. You couldn't be the one with the lava quirk. You looked... normal. Quirkless even–if this were other times and if he would judge people about it. He had changed, okay? Thank you very fucking much. But he did think it was impossible that you were that amazing brat the other heroes were talking about. They had even compared you to him, in witty and determination to become the number one Pro Hero on the ranks, in strength and no mercy against villains, or other heroes and classmates.

When he stood right in front of you one day, towering almost three heads over you and almost one more person's size to the side, Dynamight laughed. You looked like a little bunny caught red-handed, terrified by everyone around you–especially by the size of him–and skittish, almost like what Deku had been as a kid.

That should have been a first warning for Bakugou–never judge a book by its cover.

You have trained in his Agency the three years you had been in UA, and he has never once seen you nor your Quirk on display, nevertheless in real action. He had only heard how good you were in trainings from the other heroes. But he didn't care enough to actually sought-after. He was already fighting Deku for the number one spot on the rankings, he didn't have time for brats like you.

Until one day, a dangerous villain, that created enormous monsters of metal almost to the size of a ten flour building, was causing too much disaster appeared. It was more than chaos, it had been a destruction like no other.

Dynamight nor Deku could contain the motherfucker.

He was bruised, his hands beat with agony at the amount of times he had used his blasts and the push to keep going, his body muscles were screaming for him to stop. A quick glance to his side where Deku was, and the guy wasn't better than him, breathing like his lungs couldn’t no more. Every other hero in the scene was in the same shape.

They were fucking losing.

And then, like an angel sent from heaven–or better said, a demon sent from the deepest hell for the way you fucking looked, you appeared in all your majestic glory, lava making you slide in between them, surrounding you like it was nothing, like strings coming from inside your body, and began a new fight with that fucking villain's monsters.

Bakugou saw –an enamored expression on his face– how you your whole demeanor changed, your skin, your eyes, everything in you became so menacingly, so evil looking, so freaking scary, that if you weren't training to be a Hero, he thought you would be one the most terrifying villains of all times –even more than that piece of shit AFO.

The lava was visible in all your body, and you fought, a crazed smile and eyes opened wide, enjoying the damage you were doing to the metal monsters; your joy was shining bright for everyone to see, as you yelled, "DIE, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!" as the monster melted under your hands and body.

He was captivated, fucking spellbound, by the sight in front of him. He fell to his knees, watching you melt every single one of the monster in one more movement of your hand, as lava flowed towards them, capturing and melting them as you stand straight, the expression on your face serious and deadly. You then walked towards the source, the main villain who was creating this chaos, and the guy literally fell to the floor in fear, trying to crawl away from you in tears. When you stood before him, you crouched to his level, and smiled devilishly.

The villain pissed his pants.

And Bakugou's cock twitched.

He then murmured, "I'm gonna marry the shit out that woman."

Deku chuckled, shaking his head and letting his body fall to ground in tiredness. Everything was okay now.

From then on, you were by Dynamight's side all the time. The second you graduated –Bakugou Katsuki of fucking course attended the graduation ceremony– he offered a job on his Agency for you. And you said yes, even though you had options like Deku's Agency, or Hawk's, and even Endeavor had offered you a big place on his, trying to win you by saying that most of his sidekicks were fire-like Quirks and that his mother had a Quirk similar to yours, he could ask her for advice for you. Bakugou's stomach turned thinking he might had won you over that. But before he could finish the sentence, "Would you like a spot on my Ag–", you exclaimed a big YES, smiling warmly and eyes shining in excitement.

He had to clear his throat and look away at your expression, making something tingle in his chest. Was that his heart?

You became his partner then, in missions, in interviews, in meetings with other Agencies when some big villain appeared and they had to join forces. You were always there, not behind him but next to him.

In interviews he would always let you speak about how everything went and thank every body who helped. But Katsuki would look at you. Look as the lava started to dissipate from your skin, slowly turning down the temperature and going back to your normal color. Your hair that became liquid lava slowly became the color of greyish-black rock and then smoothed its way to your normal texture and color. He always felt mesmerized watching the process, and he would look at it any opportunity he got.

It wasn't until one night out with his old friends that Pikachu said, "Dude, tone down your thirst a lil' bit," in between laughs with Raccoon Eyes and Shitty Hair.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Kirishima patted his back, shaking his head, "Your sidekick, man. The lava girl?"

"What?"

"What we are trying to say," Mina smirked, "is that everytime you look at her, its almost palpable the way you want to eat her."

Bakugou gulped. "Shut the fuck up. I don't look at her like that."

Mina winked at him, "If you say so..."

That night he searched on the internet in his phone for interviews, desperately. Fuck, his friends were right. He did look at you with a fascination and hunger he had never saw himself do. He remembered thinking about marrying you back in the days, but that had been the heat of the moment, right? This annoyed the shit out of him. But watching you again in those videos, as you smiled so kindly to the reporters or other Hero friends or to even civilians while looking so freaking scary when your Quirk was activated, made something stir inside his belly.

Fuck, you're gorgeous. You're everything he didn't know he wanted.

And that's when he decided he would not hide his feelings for you anymore.

So now, a few years after, when you are married to number two Pro Hero Dynamight, people always talk about how your husband always looks at you. How he always encourages you in your fights to "kill those fucking piece of shits, baby!!" as he is very close to you fighting his own set of shitty villains and you encourage him saying "show them who is the number two hero, love!" He looses it then, a blast that ends it all.

They talk about how he would always kiss you after a fight, even after all that adrenaline that makes him want to bury himself deep inside your warmth, he only holds your face gently, gloved thumbs caressing your cheeks lovingly, eyes locked onto each other like the world doesn't exist outside that moment, and he kisses you softly, a simple touch, a cute press of lips that lasts a millisecond so he doesn't burn the skin of his face and lips. And then he pulls one of your hands with his up in victory.

He didn't only win the battles, he won you each and every time he got to simply look at you, be next to you, kiss you.

He is obsessed with you, and he doesn't want to fucking hide it from the world.

Who would've thought we would end up like this?

I'm watching your back as you walk away. You're watching the sidewalk disappear under your feet as they carry you away from me. You told me it was over, that we weren't meant to be.

But you can't tell me we weren't meant to be.

Those 3 a.m phone calls that lasted until 5 a.m when our alarms when off for work. The early morning coffee runs where we could barely function with our eyes shut closed from exhaustion. The burnt food the first few home dinner dates that made us gag and order take out, our sides aching from laughing so hard at the horrible flavor.

The crying and emotional times. The ups and downs as we would argue over the stupidest things and apologize for the smallest things. Cuddling close under the blankets when I felt too cold and you were too warm but you never wanted to let me go. Pulling me close by my belt loops to place a soft, gentle kiss on my lips.

When I would pack extra food for your lunch so I knew you were full and happy. The notes I would leave with a kiss mark in my signature lip gloss so you could have a kiss during the rough hour at work.

The way would be drawn to each other in a crowded room because we knew we would pick the other first and always pick each other before anyone else because our world's revolved around one another and being forced apart sometimes caused catastrophic events, but we would always find a way together.

So how could we have ended up like this?

Maybe it was the late night phone calls becoming too much. Perhaps the need of a coffee just to meet up at the beginning of the day was too demanding as we weren't always willing and it soon felt like a chore. The different restaurants we would try instead of cooking now left a horrible taste in my mouth because how can I go back there without you?

Was it the sneaking around? Was it the lying? Was it the girl from the office down the street how seemed to pull you in with the slightest of touch and smallest whisper in your ear when you thought I wasn't listening or paying attention?

Why did you call me controlling and dramatic when I just worry for you coming home late or not at all without a single text to let me know you were safe.

The way I would try new lipsticks or glosses to catch your attention again but it couldn't compare to the color she wore that I found on the collar of your shirt as I clutched it crying in silence.

Maybe she was the reason we ended up here.

Halloween Horror Nights Tonight

#ScareMeSilly #MaybeFuckMeSilly

I made this for yall. We are all Donald.

Miracles don’t exist | Masterlist

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Riddle!Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord’s daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy’s is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father’s arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Shitty parenting in capitals / torture / murder / the whole shebang A/n: This is going to a pretty long story. It stretches from year four to after Hogwarts. So beware, there are going to be a lot of chapters!! [Masterlist] [Playlist] [Trailer]

Chapters Year 4: Chapter 1: The Quidditch World Cup finale | Chapter 2: Nice Slytherins | Chapter 3: Well-mannered friends | Chapter 4: The tri-wizard tournament | Chapter 5: The first task | Chapter 6: Christmas is in the air | Chapter 7: 12 Grimmauld Place | Chapter 8: Friends? Friends | Chapter 9: Something fishy | Chapter 10: The greatest nightmare

Chapters Year 5: Chapter 11: Home not so sweet home | Chapter 12: Innocent defiance | Chapter 13: An eventful summer | Chapter 14: A DE in the DA | Chapter 15: Like hot coals | Chapter 16: Mother knows best | Chapter 17: Exploding hippogriffs | Chapter 18: I’m on her side | Chapter 19: The Department of Mysteries | Chapter 20: Just like the lot of them

Chapters Year 6: Chapter 21: Bliss | Chapter 22: Protection | Chapter 23: The Greatest Gift | Chapter 24: Popcorn, sandalwood, and tulips | Chapter 25: Floating snails | Chapter 26: Heavy heart, truthful words | Chapter 27: Teddy | Chapter 28: Without you, my heart doesn’t know peace Chapter 29: Sectumsempra | Chapter 30: The Battle of the Astronomy Tower

Chapters Year 7: TBA

Updates: Chapter 21 will be posted on September 27

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry  @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore​ @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @mythicalamphitrite @mastermindmiko

There's just something about backs

#smackmyasslikeadrum #wannabitethemlikeanapple

Made to be clawed

"PLEASE OFFICER IM NOT CRAZY IM JUST IN LOVE WITH A BIG BLUE MAN!"

Lo’ak using visiting Spider as an excuse to come over and steal your panties to Jack off with later 🥴 he conditions himself thag your scent = getting off, and now he can’t jack off without them AND he has to hide his dick coming out of its sheath every time he gets too close to you

Addicted to you

adult Lo‘ak x female human reader

Words: 4.7k

Summary: The first time it happened, could be considered an accident. He didn’t mean to come over and steal your underwear, stuff it in his tweng and take it with him, like a dirty little secret. The second time however, was less an accident and more a strategic planned theft.

Warnings: explicit smut, perverted Lo‘ak being a little panty thief, masturbation, scent kink, slight somnophilia (with consent), childhood friends to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, reader is spiders sister, oral (f receiving), obsessive behavior, Lo’ak has retractable genitals

Translation:

Tweng = loincloth

Tanhì = star, bioluminescence freckle

Lo‘ak, by all means, is no pervert.

He’s not a freak, even if some small minded people had called him that before. But that’s because of his fingers, and not because of this.

It’s hard to explain how any of this has even started.

It’s just, you’ve always been there. Always running around with him and his siblings, playing in the mud and chasing each other through high branches of trees. Riding piggyback on his shoulders, letting Kiri braid your hair. Crying into Neteyams shoulder when you scratched your knee and then letting grandma take care of it. Sitting by the campfire together, baby Tuk in mums arms while dad tells them stories from earth, from the place you’ve never even been before, yet it’s where you come from. Originally. But to Lo‘ak, you’re all na‘vi. Just like Spider is all na‘vi.

You’ve always been there, small little tanhì. Until you’re not so small anymore. And Lo‘ak isn’t small anymore either.

When they come back, years after seeking oturu with the metkayina, his eyeballs almost pop out of their sockets at the sight of you.

Small little tanhì, he scoffs at the memories of his childhood friend. You’ve grown. Not much for Na’vi standards, still the size of Tuk when she was like 8, but Norm makes jokes about you and Spider not being kids anymore, so he assumes you must’ve reached your maximum height. How cute, he thinks. Lo‘ak however, well, Max says he’s making dad competition now. Almost choked on his coffee when he first saw him again. Apparently you must’ve realized the change in his physical appearance too, because you said stuff like the ocean did him good and giggled when you asked what they were feeding him over there, squeezing the muscles of his upper arm with your small hands.

Apart from your size, Lo‘ak was surprised to see you in human clothing. He assumes, and maybe that makes him a little sad but he would never admit that out loud, that after his family had to leave and Spider was also gone for a very long time, you barely had any reason left to visit the village, other than accompanying Norm and Max to the lab. So you ditched the loincloth for a pair of pants and a shirt. That however, doesn’t change how beautiful you are to his eyes. His little tanhì.

Luckily, that’s pretty much everything that has changed.

Funny enough, because that meant Spider still had to share a room with you now that he’s back. Neither of you are very pleased about this, but as long as he and the Sullys are finally home, none of you would openly complain about the temporary living situation, until Norm had moved some of his stuff out of his office so Spider could move in.

The room you and Spider share isn’t that big. Two beds, a window, a small desk and a wardrobe, that’s basically it. It’s even more cramped when a full grown Na’vi lays sprawled out on Spiders bed, but that doesn’t keep him from coming over every couple of days to hang around like he’s still a lazy teen.

Lo‘ak still can’t get over the sight of you running around in these human clothes. They’re odd. Even worse when you wear them, when you’ve changed so much and there’s so much more, so much new of you to see and now you’re hiding it from his gaze, underneath those entirely too long and plain looking fabrics.

Lo‘ak can barely peel his eyes off of you, swirling around the room with a woven basked on your hip, picking up stuff from the floor while simultaneously nagging at Spider to strip and— pause.

"Anything else?" You ask, taking the shirt that Spider had just worn to put it into the basked.

"Nope", he says, pronouncing the p with a little pop sound. Glancing around the room for the final time, you spot a pair of dirty socks in the far corner and as you bend down to pick them up, something seems to fall out of the basket that you don’t notice right away. Before Lo‘ak can react however, you’re already out of the door.

Sitting upright on the bed, Lo‘ak wants to reach for the tiny piece of fabric that you had lost, but then he’s interrupted again.

"Oh shit, I forgot to give her my tweng", Spider groans, pulling a woven cloth out from where it was sandwiched between the mattress and Lo‘aks butt. "I’ll be right back, bro." And then he basically sprints after you.

Chuckling to himself, Lo‘ak now finally gets to pick up what had fallen out of your basket.

It’s pink and small, looks like a triangle almost. Too small to be any kind of clothing. No, there’s really not much fabric on it. Strange, he thinks. He turns it in his hands and then spots a tiny, white ribbon on what he assumes must be the front, and now that he holds it like that…

It almost sends him off the edge at this very moment as he realizes— It’s underwear. Great mother, those are yours!

Lo‘ak almost passes out as he spots a tiny wet patch on the fabric. It makes something in him throb, knowing that your cunt was once pressed there, your sweet, sweet pussy rubbing and pressing against the soft cloth, while some of your juices leaked out and stained the material.

He swallows dryly.

Your clit must have rubbed on it, too, he thinks before he can even stop these thoughts from coming. And Lo‘ak, by all means, is definitely no pervert, but he can’t help but imagine the cute little nub dragging across the fabric, the nub that he just wishes he could wrap his lips around and slowly suck, watching as you writhe and cry out from the stimulation on your sensitive form.

Lo‘ak doesn’t know, can’t even explain it to himself as to what has driven him to his next move, but he then puts the fabric to his nose and, almost on instinct, inhales.

The very scent of your sex on the fabric makes his head spin and his cock stir to life.

Oh, how he loves your scent. That filthy, sinful scent on your panties, the lovely fragrance enhanced all around the cloth. With each trembling intake of your smell that his soul inhales, the harder his cock grows, until it finally unsheathes, bulging a tent into his now entirely too tight tweng.

The first time it happened, could be considered an accident. He didn’t mean to come over and steal your underwear, stuff it in his tweng and take it with him, like a dirty little secret.

The second time however, was less an accident and more a strategic planned theft.

Lo’ak now knows where to find them, knows that there’s a small woven basket in the far corner of your room, and if he lays on Spiders bed and stretches enough, he can just reach into it with his very fingertips. So when you and Spider are busy with something else, he so casually stretches his long limbs and grabs the first, black little slip he can reach, stuffs it in his tweng and then pretends that Neteyam is calling him through the throat comm or that he suddenly remembered he had stuff to do at the village or whatever reason is believable enough to hurry out of the door and hide somewhere in the forest.

Once his heart stopped pounding in his ears and his lungs stopped burning, Lo‘ak settles against a tree and pulls the small piece of fabric out of his tweng. Pretty black, cotton panties. Warm now, from rubbing against his skin on the way here. His hand twitches as he examines them in awe.

In all honesty, Lo‘ak really thought that the silly little childhood crush he once harbored for you was finally filtered out of his system after spending the first few nights at the metkayina village bawling his eyes out because he missed you so much. But no amount of other girls he tried to occupy himself with to forget you could change anything about those feelings that came rushing back to him like a tsunami, the very moment his eyes fell on you again, even after all those years apart. And now you’re all grown up, both of you are, and he’s not that awkward little guy anymore, had his fair share of girls to know how to talk to you, how to flirt and maybe even confess his feelings that could lead to something more, yet here he is. Cock throbbing in his palm with your slip pressed against his nose while he furiously jerks himself off to your scent. Like a pervert.

He was gritting his teeth as he stroked over his shaft, squeezing the light blue tip of his cock just right, forcing the very first droplets of pre-cum to form and spill over his knuckles. There’s a tightness, a warmth that swells inside him and it gets even worse when he inhales deeply, your scent filling his nostrils. His hand strokes faster, harder and he moans against the soft cotton.

Speeding up his movements, Lo‘aks hips were already bucking up to fuck into his fist. His imagination, those clear images in front of his minds eye, of your pussy dragging over the same spot he was rubbing his nose against were only egging him on more.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck", Lo‘ak was chanting curses as he felt the coil in his stomach threaten to snap. His head was thrown back in bliss, your underwear pressed tight to his nose and he couldn’t help but bite down on the fabric to stifle his moans when he finally came.

And suddenly Lo‘ak feels like he’s 14 again, blushing like an idiot whenever you’ve hugged him, not getting the words out when it was just the two of you together.

He was so head over heels for his little tanhì, that this seemed to be the only way to give him some temporary relief, until he would finally get his shit together and gather enough courage to ask you out.

But before this could even happen, things were already getting out of hand.

The first time might be an accident, the second time not so much, but the third, fourth, fifth … and then the tenth time— that’s when he realized this was growing into some strange form of addiction.

Of course he made sure you would never realize what a perverted friend he was, always making sure to rinse his cum and any stains out of the fabric before stuffing them back to the basket in your room, switching them out for a new pair. But not making you realize how perverted he actually was, that was easier said than done.

Naturally, all Na‘vi had a keen sense of smell. Lo‘ak had always been able to smell your natural scent when you were near. And in the beginning, just holding your used underwear in his hands got him hard, made his nose twitch, fingers itching to get them closer, bury his whole face in them and inhale. It was intoxicating.

But Lo‘ak didn’t even realize what he had done to himself, up to the point he came completely untouched for the first time, just from smelling them. That’s when it finally dawned on him. Your scent was enough to get him off. He had actually managed to condition himself to this– coming to your scent, not being able to come when he couldn’t smell you.

Oh, that was bad, he thought. That was really, really bad.

Even worse, because you’ve always been touchy with him. Always hugged him, held his hand, jumped into his arms. And Lo‘ak was so used to carrying you around on his shoulders or his back, that it would’ve been strange of him not to. So now here he was, again, suffering from the consequences of his own actions.

One of your soft, squishy thighs on either side of his shoulders, the back of his head snugly pressed between your thighs and his hands holding your ankles so you wouldn’t fall off as you wandered through the forest.

Normally, he’s a good listener. But he has long stopped listening to whatever you were talking about, now that your scent was so close to his nose that his cock was already pocking out of his sheath and Lo‘ak was slowly loosing every internal battle of trying to keep it in there until they had reached high camp.

Every time you giggled or laughed, Lo‘ak could feel the vibrations against his neck. He could feel every shift, every drag of your clothed cunt against his skin. The warmth radiating from your core, the softness of your thighs on either side of his head, while dainty fingers played with his braids.

Suddenly there’s tug on his braids and Lo‘ak damn near whimpers as you pull his hair to get his attention and— no, no, no you had to get off, you had to get away from him, because this is all too much.

"Lolo", it’s the silly nickname name you gave him as a child, the one that still makes his eyes roll because you used to tease him wit it. "Are you even listening? I asked you a—"

"Sorry it’s just, you– you’re getting kinda heavy, tanhì." Two hands grab your hips before you can even protest and there’s a look of utter confusion on your face, once your feet meet the ground again. Too heavy, Lo‘ak mentally slaps himself. He can lift you up with one hand, so who’s going to believe that?

You look at him with your brows knit tightly together, eyes narrowed to scan him up and down like you were trying and could actually see through him and fuck, his body was working against him in this moment, because the feeling of his own slick coating his cock as it slowly slid out of its protecting sheath sends a shiver up his spine.

"C‘mon let’s keep moving, we’re almost there", he hastily blurts out, leading the way now, hands clenching into fists at his side.

Lo‘ak tries to ignore that your scent still lingers heavy in the air, even as you walk behind him. He also tries to ignore how silent you had suddenly gotten, tries not to look back because he knows you‘ll look hurt or confused, or both, as to why he had suddenly decided to put distance between you and him –and called you heavy, on top of that.

The entire walk back to the village was filled with silence, and even though it felt heavy in his heart, it’s what he needed to calm himself, to make his cock soften and breathing even, to put his focus on something else other than the flowery sweet smell that’s walking just a few feet behind him.

It’s not hard to guess why he doesn’t see you the day after that. Spider visits high camp alone, says you’re out with Norm somewhere to gather ar'lek seeds so they can plant them in the small herb garden in hells gate. He knows that’s just partly the truth.

The next day, Lo‘ak doesn’t even wait for you to come over, or not. Spider spends the day with Kiri anyways, and maybe that’s his sign to finally get his ass up and do something about this whole fucked up situation, apologize for acting so weird and put an end to his strange addiction.

It’s already late in the afternoon when Lo‘ak reaches the human outpost camp. He taps the code into the small keypad on the front door of the facility, puts a respirator on and walks down the hallway. Several turns later and he finds himself at your door, knocks ever so lightly, it’s almost too light, before slowly opening the door, crouching under the frame and stepping inside.

The sight he’s met with definitely gets his knees a little weak.

You’re curled up on your side, your lashes are softly resting on your cheeks, lips slightly parted with quiet sighs of sleep falling from them. Your shirt has ridden up a bit, exposing your hips and stomach to him, blanket nowhere to be found. His gaze wanders over your body, the curve of your waist, down to your legs and eywa help him, you’re not wearing pants. All that’s covering you, are those pink panties that seem very familiar to him and fuck, if that doesn’t make him swallow hard because he just realized these are the ones he’s first taken from you. The ones he had completely soaked in his cum until he nearly passed out, shooting blanks from how many times he jerked off with them pressed to his nose and then wrapped around his cock once he had completed inhaled your scent off of them.

And now he has to hold himself back, because your deliciously sweet scent almost suffocates him the moment he settles to sit on the end of your bed.

He can’t help the way his hands move on their own, just a soft caress up and down your thigh. Completely harmless, he wants to make himself believe.

You hum in your sleep, eyebrows pinching together for a brief moment before you relax into his touch. It’s like your scent grows more intense the longer he strokes his warm palms over your exposed skin, running up your thigh, the curve of your hips. His fingertips trace the cotton fabric of your panties, hooks it under his finger, plays with it, before he runs his hands back down your legs.

Lo‘ak feels his body heat increase the longer he plays with you like this. Feels his sheath opening up, the tip of his cock teasing against the cloth of his tweng, the retraining tightness of trying to keep it in there. His tail curls like he’s in pain from holding himself back, and then your thighs spread into his hands, opening up like a pretty flower, subconsciously presenting yourself to him.

He knows he shouldn’t… but he can’t help it.

Swallowing hard, Lo‘ak kneels at the end of the bed. Careful as ever, he pulls you towards him, holds you open like a five course meal on a silver plate with both of his hands on the backside of your thighs. He nuzzles his nose against your skin, tenderly. Inhales, places soft kisses here and there, moves further to the inside of your leg. His nose never breaks contact to your skin, you just smell too good, he’s completely lost in it. Addicted.

His breathing soon turns into shallow pants of air, his mind growing dizzy and pupils dilated to the absolute max as he continues to scent you like a drug.

The content little, "Mmh…" followed by the arch of your back as you stretch yourself, hands coming up to rub the sleep in your eyes away, do little to faze him now, let alone stop him from what he was doing. It’s too late to stop anyway.

Glancing down on yourself, Lo‘ak feels your breath hitch in your throat in a shy little gasp, thighs trying to close shut, but his hands keep them in place.

"Lo‘ak?" You ask, face flushing red and for a moment he comes back to himself and his heart aches because he thinks he fucked up, crossed every possible boundary, ruined your friendship because he got too lost in his perversion– but then you bite your bottom lip and brush your dainty fingers through his hair, cradle the back of his head and pull him closer.

He grins.

Lo‘ak doesn’t break eye contact with you as he kisses your inner thigh, fangs grazing your skin before he sucks a small hickey right there. He kisses the purplish mark on your flesh before he moves further, eyes on yours before he presses his nose against the cotton fabric of your underwear. Your hips rise off the bed, impatiently bucking against his face and Lo‘ak groans.

"You smell so good, tanhì", he murmurs, nosing your clit, nudging the little nub until a whimper falls from your lips. "So sweet, I just… sorry, I had to."

A soft laugh draws his attention from your clit back to your face and he lifts his head up to properly look at you.

"Don’t apologize", you say, chest heaving, "I was waiting for the day you finally decide to make the first move." He smiles at this. And maybe he blushes a bit too, but there’s barely any time for you to see it, before his face is buried between your thighs again. He inhales sharply, letting your scent cloud his mind and then he presses a kiss to the outline of your clit, feeling it twitch beneath the thin fabric.

Hooking his fingers under the waistband, he tells you, "lift your hips for me", and as you do, he slides them off of your legs completely.

You watch his eyes darken with lust once you spread your thighs further for him, watch him part your folds with his thumbs almost tenderly, brushing over the little hood of your clit to get it into his direct view.

"Don’t tease", you then whisper and Lo‘ak thinks, if only you knew how much he was holding himself back right now. "I would never", he chuckles, and you squeak when he grabs your thighs and pulls you closer, bends your legs so your knees are almost touching your ears.

Flattening his tongue, he then licks a board stripe from your dripping entrance up to your clit, and oh tanhì, you’re making even the sweetest fruit competition. Lo‘ak groans, loud and shamelessly, once your slick juices run over his tastebuds like sweet nectar. Your hips jolt, moans spilling from your mouth as he closes his lips around the little nub of pleasure and sucks, hard.

You gasp sharply, hands fisting his hair tighter and mindlessly tugging as your thighs snap close around his head.

"O-Ohh god, fuck, Lo‘ak", you moan, back arching to get his mouth closer to you and Lo‘ak thinks it’s adorable. You’re panting, gasping and moaning like you can’t believe how good he’s making you feel.

Between your thighs, you hear him hum at your taste, your clit drags against his nose and those puffy lips, while he slurps your slick like he’s starving.

A glance up at you reveals that you’re staring sightlessly at the ceiling, slack-jawed and dazed, and Lo‘ak feels a surge of amusement and affection. So cute, looking almost as sweet as you taste on his tongue.

While sucking on your clit earned him the most of a reaction from you, he more often switched to sticking his tongue into your clenching hole as far as he could reach– which was deep, considering the proportions of a Na‘vi compared to a human. Like this, he could perfectly smooch the flat of his nose against the little nub that made you cry out, could smell you at the same time he was tasting you and that combination made something in him twist into a tight knot, daring to snap at any moment.

"Lo’ak, Lo’ak, oh– holy shit, Lo’ak", you moaned his name like a prayer, and the sound of it was send straight to his cock that had fully unsheathed itself by now. It throbbed heavily, pre-cum soaking his tweng and bringing friction to the sensitive tip once he’s started humping the air, hips bucking and thrusting, searching for more.

There’s nothing he wants more than to bring a hand down to his cock, get rid of the loincloth and start stroking himself, fuck his fist if necessary, anything to get the edge off. But his hands can’t, don’t, want to move. They’re perfectly comfortable where they are, holding your thighs, spreading you wide open while he devours you. He can’t bring himself to do anything other than grind his face against your pussy hungrily, tongue gliding through your folds, sucking and slurping and kissing until tears prick at the corner of your eyes.

"Lo, I’m close", you whimper, hands tugging harder on his braids and he loves it. "I’m- I think I’m coming. Please. Please don’t stop!"

And stopping is the last thing that’s on his mind.

Your tiny hole clenches around the tongue that’s thrusting in and out of you, and Lo‘ak can’t help but imagine how you’d feel around his cock. He wants to, he really fucking wants to split you open on it, bend you in every possible position and feel your tight walls clamping down on him. But this right here is his priority. He wants you crying out and coming on his tongue, wants to drown in your slick and inhale your scent for a good while longer before he can stuff you full of his cock.

"Yeah? You’re gonna come, tanhì?", he mumbles against your clit and your hips buck against his mouth, desperately searching for more. "Come for me then, c’mon. Let me taste you, give it to me."

"Uh-huh", you nod frantically, lifting your head up to look at him. Your hands tug on his braids, guiding him back to where you needed it most and Lo‘ak gladly complied your order. And then your hips were rising off the bed, and you nearly sobbed as you chanted, "m’coming, m’coming– oh– fuck!"

Your hold on his hair loosens just as everything below your waist tightens.

The sounds that were reaching his ears were a combined chorus of groans and high-pitched whimpers coming from both of you. While Lo‘ak feasted on your arousal, his tweng got equally as soaked in his cum than his face got soaked in yours.

You like the way that the gold in his eyes seems to glow up at you from between your legs, when you manage to pick your head up and look down at him. You like the way that his fingers dig into your skin as a stern reminder for you to stay there, and you like the way that his tongue continues to lave at you, despite the trembling of your legs.

The expanse of his tongue drags methodically against your cunt one last time, gathering your taste like he means to savor it. Then, his head raises, all glistening lips and prideful eyes, his hands sliding up your sides to hook around your waist. 

"Holy fuck", you exhale a shaky breath. "Lolo, what the hell, where did that just come from?" You laugh in disbelief, a bit more than just breathless from the intense orgasm, and Lo‘ak chuckles with you, crawling onto the bed to settle himself between your thighs.

"Don’t call me that childish name when I just made you come on my tongue, tanhì", he purrs into your ear, grinning, and the feel of his canine grazing your ear sends a shiver up your spine. Lo’ak then nuzzles his face into the crook of you neck, pressing his weight down on you and if it weren’t for the uncomfortable slick and sticky feeling between your thighs, you could actually enjoy this.

"Can you give me my underwear", you whisper, blushing, "please."

"No", Lo‘ak tells you ever so nonchalantly, face still buried against your skin. Your brows furrow and you can’t help but laugh, "What– Why?"

"I‘m keeping them", he says, "As a little souvenir."

Hearing that, makes a completely new wave of heat wash over you, lightening up your cheeks in crimson red.

"Perv", you mutter quietly, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Hmh, yes I am. But you also can’t have them back because…"

Theres a pause, two arms snake around your middle and hug you tight, before he rolls over and drags you with him. You gasp at the sudden change of position, now straddling his stomach with him laying flat on your bed. Rising a brow, you look at him, waiting. Lo‘aks hands then grab you by the waist and he pulls you up in one fluid movement, your hands fly up to catch yourself just in time, both of them on the headboard of your bed now as your core hovers only mere inches from his face.

His breath his warm on your skin, sending goosebumps all over your body as it fans over the slick covering your inner thigh. Licking his lips, he grins up at you, the hunger in his eyes evident, as he says,

"Because I’m not done with you yet, tanhì."

When the Florida heat hits 🙌🏻 got me looking at my man like a whole steak when he comes home from working in the sun 😝😝

— heatwave

I’m suffering through the heatwave over here, and Bakugou is the only thing that could make it better or worse.

Warnings: 18+, not proofread, Bakugou is your roommate, sweaty sex, dirty talk, spanking, creampie.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 3.8k.

“It’s too damn hot,” Bakugou growled as he lay the back of his head against the couch. Even the soft, worn fabric was uncomfortable against his back. Retaining more heat than necessary paired with his body temperature it had sweat pooling against his skin.

Life as an up and coming Pro-Hero had been rough. With long shifts, terrible hours and little pay he was stuck in this dingy, stuffy apartment. Waiting for the day he’d add an extra figure onto his paycheck to have enough to move out. Things like air conditioning were a lavish luxury that he couldn’t afford right now, so it meant suffering through the torridness with a small ice pack he’d grabbed from the freezer.

The only bonus was having a roommate like you.

Originally Bakugou had been adverse to living under the same roof as someone, unable to trust anyone living in close quarters with him. There was an entire cacophony of issues that could arise from picking the wrong person— from being kept up all night, the mess they could leave behind to having friends or hookups in his shared space.

But you had been a godsend, understanding of his unsocial work schedule and his house rules. You could even argue that you were a better roommate than he was, with his friends delighting in showing up unannounced and causing a mess in his apartment. Something that you were always so understanding of when you’d join them for movie nights or dinner.

You were a blessing. Or now that he thought about it, perhaps it was a curse. Now forced to watch you practically saunter around in the shortest short shorts known to man in a feeble attempt to try and deal with the extreme temperatures. Your top half not much better, the stringy vest top you wore— without a bra no less— exposed your midriff and the cute stiffened peaks of your nipples. Not that he was looking, and even if he was what did you expect him to do.

Rubbing sweat from his upper lip as he spreads his legs wide on the couch as you made your way into the kitchen, his crimson eyes roaming your figure as the shorts hugged the swell of your ass perfectly. Dipping in between the cheeks as he imagined pulling them apart to see what was hidden between them, the material dangerously close to revealing it to him anyway—

You were doing absolutely nothing to help quell the heat oozing through his body. In fact, Bakugou was certain you were making it worse. His cock jumping at the sight of you, pulsing beneath his shorts as his Adam’s apple bobbed. Praying that this sudden heatwave would cease and he could stop being tortured by the sight of you like this every damn day, it was bad enough when he’d catch peeks of you in a towel coming from the bathroom towards your bedroom, or forgotten panties left strewn around. But this? This was unbearable.

“I can’t deal with this heat,” The whiny tone to your voice had Bakugou silencing a growl deep in his chest, watching you hold the back of your hand to your forehead dramatically, “I wanna sit in the freezer.”

“Don’t you dare.” Bakugou knew from experience the heat alone would be enough to shut down the entire machine, and you both definitely didn’t have enough money to replace it if it did.

And that freezer was the only thing satiating the heat so far. Shoving his melting ice pack against his chest, the contents quickly changing form to liquid as he tried to make the most of it before it would have to go back inside the freezer.

“Let me feel,” You came around the couch to stand in front of him, his eyes set in a heavy glare as he tried to weigh up whether it was worth letting you feel how cold the pack was.

It was bad enough having you so scantily clad in such short proximity to him right now, certain he could now smell the saccharine of your perfume as you pulled the top of your vest down, exposing the swell of your breasts as you presented your sternum to him.

Bakugou pushes the pack to your chest and immediately regrets it when the sound you let out is downright sinful. You have to know what you’re doing to him, the way your lips curl into a delicious looking pout and your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

“Oh god, that feels so fucking good.” You moaned, eyes clenched shut to focus on the cool chill that slowly washed over your chest.

His cock jumps in his shorts as he tries to shift his hips to avoid you from noticing the now very evident bulge, the throb pounding through his veins as he feels a different kind of heat beginning to take over.

He should stop here, take his ice pack back and tell you to go and sit in front of your mini desk fan again. Get you out of the room and as far away as possible and save this for another day, a day when you’re both not delirious from the intense heat.

But his depraved thoughts have already consumed him, the thought of your plush body pressed against his while he slides his throbbing cock inside you now at the forefront of his mind as he presses the pack lower. Watching as you arch your back towards it, welcoming the cool chill as you lean forward to splay your sweaty palms against his thick thighs.

And whether he’s delirious from the heat, or it’s the desperate look in your eyes he doesn’t know. All he knows is he’s kissing you fiercely, the ice pack drops forgotten between your bodies in favour of grabbing your hips.

“Fuck,” You kiss him back, words swallowed by his chapped lips as you feel the bulge between his thighs press snug against your crotch.

Your hands reach up to card through messy blond spikes as your nails graze his damp scalp, your tongue swiped against his as he palms your ass. Calloused fingertips disappear beneath the flimsy fabric as he squeezes the fat of it, tugging you down against his hardness as he pulls more sultry sounds from your throat.

“It’s too hot for this, Katsuki.” You whine, breaking the kiss as you gasp for air in the humid room.

At this chance Bakugou’s lips venture lower, peppering kisses along your jawline towards your collarbones until he reaches the hem of your vest. Tugging the fabric down to reveal your round breasts, his tongue pokes out to wet his lips at the marvellous sight.

His nighttime fantasies can’t compare to the sight in front of him, crimson eyes shamelessly ogle your skin to commit the sight to memory as he leans forward.

“Shut up,” He rasps back gruffly while mouthing your breast.

You’re right, it’s entirely too hot for any kind of strenuous activity, especially when he’s sweating so much it already feels like he’s run a marathon. But the way your soft body feels pressed against his is too much to pass up. Especially when this is what he’s been dreaming about ever since he moved in with you, fisting his cock too. It’s too much to leave it to chance that he may get this opportunity again later. Bakugou’s always been a greedy man, and he wants to have you now.

“Fuck,” You cry out when his teeth graze your nipple, pushing your crotch against his with more urgency.

Certain you’ve leaked through the flimsy fabric, desire surges through you dense and fast. A stark contrast to your lethargic movements as you grind yourself down on his lap pathetically.

“Katsuki,” You whine.

His strong hands are doing all the work as he moves you how he pleases. Strong palms pick you up by the meat of your ass to drop you back down on his length. Grinding your puffy clit against his pelvis with each motion as he has you crying out in pleasure.

“Fuck, Katsu. S’too hot—”

You weren’t sure whether it was the humid air permeating the room or the way that Bakugou was looking at you with smouldering eyes that had your body aflame. Muggy, vapid air filling your lungs as clammy hands stroked along his bare torso. Mapping out a course of newly discovered territory as you let your thumbs brush against his pebbled nipples, his chest vibrating against your touch with more sultry groans.

“I know you are, sweetheart.” He hummed, his fingers brushing the crotch of your shorts, “Let me make you feel good.”

“Oh,” You gasped when you felt the calloused pads stroke your labia, involuntarily leaning forward to give him more space as Bakugou began to spread you apart for him. Fingers gliding through your messy folds, dragging your essence along your slit until he found your puffy clit.

The contact had you jolting forward, nails grazing his chest as he focused his attention on it. Circling it tentatively with the pad of his finger as you began to rock your hips back against him, uncaring about how debauched you looked as you began to seek your own pleasure.

“Yeah?” He rasped, and the gravelly husk did nothing but increase the desperation inside you, “You like that?”

“Fuck, please—“ You buried your head in the curve of his neck, your lips pressed against the slick skin as you tasted the saltiness of his sweat on your tongue.

“Please what, sweetheart,” He cooed.

“Please—“ You gasped when you felt his thumb press against your empty hole. He knew exactly what you wanted, he was toying with you.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Your fingers.” You were shameless, your hips grinding back against him as Bakugou finally took mercy on you and pushed his thumb into your sloppy entrance. The slightest penetration enough to drag a deep moan from your throat as he kept his focus against your clit, leaning his head back against the couch to try and see the blissful expression on your face as he worked you with precision.

“Got no damn idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” He husked against your ear, lips soft against the shell as you clenched around him in response, “Always walkin’ round in those fuckin’ short shorts got me wanting to bend you over every surface in this house.”

“Oh fuck,” You mewled, already feeling yourself teetering on the edge of your climax as he kept his pace constant against your clit, his thumb positioned to press against your spongy wall as his other hand tightened its grip on your ass. Spreading you open, as you found your bliss, “Katsuki.”

“That’s it, good girl.” He hummed, feeling your walls pulse around his digit as he kept his pace. Working you through your release as he pressed sloppy, wet kisses to your temple.

You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d wished the same, coming into the kitchen to see him still in full hero gear after work. Dirt and grime covering his body as his mask was pulled up over his forehead to show his blackened eyes, bending over to grab the carton of juice from the fridge as he held it up to his lips to chug it. Watching his Adam’s apple bob as the liquid flowed, giving you the perfect view of him as you tried to busy yourself to hide the fact you were blatantly staring.

Or the moments where he’d come out of the bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips to shout at you for using the taps in the kitchen while he was showering. The cheap apartment had one flow of hot water and it shut off that luxury whenever it was used elsewhere. The cold water catching him off guard as he glared at you, water droplets drooling down his perfect skin and making him look more like an ancient god or deity than your roommate.

“So why didn’t you?” You asked when you’d come down from your high.

“Huh?” Bakugou’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell me how you felt before.”

“I like livin’ with you,” He shrugged, “Didn’t wanna jeopardise that.”

“You wouldn’t have,” You smiled, pulling yourself back from his neck to meet his gaze, “I like you too.”

“That mean I can finally eat this pretty little pussy?” He groaned, shuffling his hips, “Been thinkin’ about it since the day I met you.”

“Later, please—” You pawed at the hard bulge between his thigh, his pre staining the fabric as you pressed against the tip.

“Fuck,” He grunted, shamelessly bringing his fingers to his lips to get a taste of you. His tongue sweeping against his digits to clean them of your slick, “Gonna take you over every damn surface in this house, princess.”

Your fingers curled into the hem of his shorts, Bakugou lifting his hips off the couch to help you drag them down just enough to free his heady cock— the sight of it better than you’d ever imagined in those nightly fantasies.

He was thick and long, bulging veins that forked along the length of him only made him seem that much more intimidating as his balls sat heavy at the base. Neatly trimmed blond hairs decorated his pelvis as they created a pretty trail along his abdomen, unable to resist running your hand along it as his stomach folded at the touch. A sharp hiss sucked sharp through his teeth as you wrapped your hand around him at the base, holding him steady so you could see the tip. The head a swollen pink as pre continued to bead at the slit, drooling down towards his frenulum as you moved to settle between his thighs. Wanting a taste of him yourself as you swiped your thumb over the leaky tip of his cock.

“Oi, I thought you said later,” He teased, rough hands steady on your hips to stop you from moving.

“Please,” You whined pathetically, “Wanna taste you.”

You brought your thumb to your lips as your tongue swiped at the surface, tasting him on your tongue as your lashes fluttered. Crimson eyes focused on your movements as his cock twitched in appreciation, tempted to let you do whatever you pleased. But he’d been waiting far too long for this moment, and there was no way he could wait any longer.

“You little minx,” He groaned as you sucked your thumb, “I promise later.” He groaned, tugging at your shorts, “Do you like these?”

“Yeah, they’re— what the fuck, Katsuki?”

You gasped when you heard the sharp sound of ripping fabric, “I said I liked them.”

“Sorry,” You could tell from the smug grin on his face that he was anything but as he positioned you above his leaky cock, “I gotta have you now.”

You held onto his shoulders as he wrapped a large fist around his cock, dragging the tip through your slick as he felt it catch against your tight entrance. His other hand on your hip slowly dropping you down onto his length as you felt the pleasurable ache of him stretching you open ebb through your pelvis.

“I got you, sweetheart,” He groaned, watching his cock slowly disappear inside you as he felt your warm walls wrap snugly around him, “Gonna take such good care of you.”

You felt hot, the heat radiating from your sex sweltering and yet you didn’t want to let go. The thick girth of his cock filled you perfectly as you felt him pressed against every ridge and groove of your cunt like he was made for you.

Your lips move together languidly, tasting the saltiness from his upper lip as you move together in tandem. Wet and sloppy while his tongue strokes yours, desperation evident by the way you try to deepen the kiss. As though you’re trying to melt into him, to feel him devour you whole.

“Oh, shit.” You choke back a cry when you feel the tip of his cock hit a spot deep inside you, certain you’ve never had something quite so big before.

You struggle to lift yourself up with your legs spread wide over his thick thighs as you grind yourself against his lap. Your clit catching against the trimmed hairs at his base as you roll your hips with desire, your chest pressed taut to his as you start a lazy pace. The scorching heat inside the apartment makes it difficult to breathe as you writhe in his lap, his warm breath fans against your skin almost feels cooler than the thick air clouding the room.

“Kats. It’s too hot.” You whine pathetically, your pace clumsy and sluggish as the desire inside you burns hot and heavy.

“You started this.” He retorts cockily with a smug smirk on his face.

“I did not.” You pout, “This is your fault.”

“Stop whinin’” He reaches back to bring his palm down on your ass in a rough smack, the sweatiness of his quirk has his skin tacking to you as it increases the sensation, clinging to your skin as you gasp in surprise. A painful pleasure courses through your veins as the skin prickles beneath his touch, your pliant walls clamping down around his girth in retaliation.

Without hesitating he reaches his large palms back to cup a cheek in each hand, lifting you up languidly as he marvels the glossy sheen your slick leaves on his cock.

“You just sit there and look pretty, let me do the work.” He spread is thighs wider, giving himself more air as he shifted your weight. Picking you up and dropping you down on his length as he listened to the pretty sounds that spilled from you like a siren, drawing him in and capturing his heart as you pulsed around him.

“Why couldn’t you have got an ice quirk?”

Clammy hands paw at his shoulders as Bakugou repeats the motion, skin tacking to skin as he bounces you on his cock. The kinetic energy builds heat swiftly and harsh as you feel the stickiness against your skin. Your wetness seeps out against his pelvis and matts the hair at his base, catching your clit with each drop of your hips.

“Shut the fuck up,” He scoffed, “You won’t be sayin’ that come winter.”

The thought of having his warm body to warm you during those cold winter months, still being with him then— had you clenching around him.

“Oh yeah? You like the sound of that?” He grinned, “Can feel this pussy clenchin’ around me.”

“Fuck, Katsuki.” The heat was becoming unbearable, radiating from your core as it burned molten lava. The coil inside you dangerously close to snapping as you danced on the crux of your release, gasping for air as he changed tact. Holding your hips tight under sweaty palms as he planted his feet flat on the ground, pistoning his hips up into your pliant sex, “There— oh, god. Right there—”

“That’s it,” He rasped, watching your tits bounce with each rapid thrust, “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

“‘m gonna cum,” You choked out between moans, feeling the curved tip of his cock drag against the spongy spot inside you with each thrust, “Oh shit—”

“Cum for me,” He growled, “Cum all over my cock.”

The tips of Bakugou’s thumbs pressed against your pelvis, tightening his grip as it only increased the pressure. Sweat trickling down your temples as he sent you vaulting over the edge into euphoria.

“Good girl,” He grunted, feeling your walls clamp down around his cock as you willed him to come with you, trying to milk him of his seed.

The pleasure was unlike anything you’d felt before, mind-numbingly intense as you cried out a jumbled mess of his name. Your nails digging crescent moons into his skin as he hissed beneath you, shamelessly searching for his own end as the heat radiated from your body. Sliding against each other from the sweat that now trickled down your skin, leaving a glossy sheen against you both as he used you for his own pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum,” Bakugou grunted, moving to lift you off his cock before you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, unbothered about the stifling heat in the room as you kept him tight against you.

“Cum inside me, Katsuki.” You gasped a he choked back a grunt, your words all it took to meet his own end.

His guttural moans are sinful, erotic as you cling to him with fervour. Committing the sensation to memory as though it’s the last time you’ll have him like this, as if the heat has him in this delirious state. And maybe it does—

You never thought Bakugou could look so pretty like this, completely vulnerable as he exposes his most intimate self to you. Thick, white spurts of cum spurt from his tip as he empties his balls inside you.

“Fuck, baby.” He breathes hot and heavy as you feel his chest rise and fall against yours.

Bodies slumped together on the couch as you feel the dampness of skin against skin, your vest that now sits useless around your waist is soaked and warm as the fabric clings to your body.

“I’m so sticky,” You whine childishly, making no attempt to move as Bakugou’s fingers trace absent-minded patterns along your exposed back.

“How the fuck dya think I feel?” He rasps, “My ass is stuck to the couch.”

“Eww,” You tease, running your nose along his collarbone as you take in the musky scent of him, “We’ll have to get another couch.”

He catches you by surprise as he presses the forgotten ice pack to the back of your neck, although it’s mostly melted it’s a stark contrast to your sweltering body as you flinch in surprise. Your cunt clenches around him at the sensation as Bakugou grunts from the attention.

“Oh shit, don’t do that sweetheart—“ He hisses, wrapping an arm around your back to hold you tight against him, “You’ll make me hard again.”

Something that you’re not sure you’d mind, even though your body is screaming out for a different kind of relief now. Desperate to cool your temperature down as you scrunch your nose in irritation.

“I feel so gross.” You complain as he gives your ass another playful spank as you barely move from the impact, your bodies stuck together with a mixture of heat and sweat.

“Got no one to blame but yourself, princess,” He groans, “I was just mindin’ my business until you came over in those little shorts.”

“You weren’t complaining when you were balls deep.” You moved your head back to glare at him.

“My balls feel like they’re on fire now,” He scoffs, leaning forward to peck your pouty lips, “Cold shower?” He asks, although he’s already decided he’s showering with you— he’s taking every moment he can with you now.

All of us Thirsty MotherFuckAAASSSS

*Baby Dust to Myself*🌠 👶🏼🥰👶🏼

what if it all worked out

Storm

Katsuki Bakugou x Ex!Reader

Summary: He's been cheating and youre feeling the best feeling of all..Anger

Warnings: Breaking stuff, violence (towards objects never physical to a person), hot ex reader, swearing

He must've forgot who the fuck he was dealing with.

Bakugou fucking Katsuki really must have a screw loose if he thought he could get away with lying, cheating, and straight up being an asshole.

The sneaking around your house that you both shared. Catching whiffs of perfume too overbearing to be your own, making you gag and your nose runny.

You gave him a chance to come clean, asking him one night when he came home, turning the lamp on. He froze as he caught you smiling, a small cup of whiskey in your hand.

"Who were you with?"

"You really think that of me huh?" He scoffed, trying to gaslight you for asking him a simple question, "Katsu, I never mentioned you were doing something.." you swirled your liquor and took a long sip, eyes darting to his and you watched him like a Lion stalking a Mouse.

"Promiscuous," your voice was like a sticky sweet honey, daring him to act a fool.

"Forget it, I'm going the hell to bed,"

And like that, you had him hook, line and you were going to sink him.

~.~

Of course, before you could be the one to end it. He decided to get a step ahead and you came home one day to him throwing your stuff out onto the street, a girl clinging to his arm.

"We're over, I shouldn't have to settle for some entitled bitch asking me, the Number 4 Hero, shit and getting pissy if I don't wanna answer," he snapped, but he tried to ignore the small twinge of fear when your emotionless gaze bore into him.

"Oh really?" Was all you asked, head tilted, eyes moving from his to the girl on his arm. She appeared to be about your age, maybe a couple younger.

"Sorry sweetie, if you can't keep up with the best then someone else will," her cheap lipgloss wasn't helping her already cracked lips. Her fake giggle was like listening to a pick me girl record, which is basically all she was.

A pick me bitch.

"Since everything is in my name, get your shit and leave," Katsuki smirked, trying to puff up to show his dominance. Oh you'll show him dominance alright.

"Fine, but I have one more thing I need to grab," you shoved past him, the new girls squeak of surprise when she stumbled, her heels too skinny to handle the weight change.

You walked into the hall closet, grabbing your bat.

"Don't touch anything!" His voice yelled into the house but the next sound following had him growling, curses flying out of his mouth as he heard crashes and glass shattering.

You swing the bat and broke the TV you paid for. The China cabinet that was a gift from his parents for Christmas from when they went to visit China on vacation.

Cups and plates crashed around you as you continued to swing, the girls high pitched scream making your ears ring as you dodged Katsuki who was cussing you out.

You ducked under his arm and got outside, your bat coming down hard on his precious Buggati. A birthday present to himself, that he bought on your fucking birthday.

"BITCH! FUCKING STOP!" He screamed as your cracked the windows, shattering the tail lights.

"But I'm not touching anything," you growled, throwing the bat in his direction as he dodged, unluckily being missed by the bat. "IM FUCKING DESTROYING IT!"

You brought out your pocket knife that you kept on you for safety and slashed 3 of his tires, jabbing it into the metal of the car. Puncture marks left as Katsuki finally found some ounce of motion to run over and snatch the knife out of your hand.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM!? GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

"Hope he wrapped it up sis cause he's got the clap! And I know I didn't give it to him!" You called over your shoulder, flipping them off as you sauntered to your car as you listened to the screaming that was now happening up the drive way.

"Have fun Katsu~" you blew a mocking kiss as he screamed about his car while he was getting hit by the pick me bitches hands.

Stoop. Me and my husband are trying for a baby (YES WE FUCKIN YALL) and I can't wait for him to get this opportunity 🥺🥺❤️❤️

☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. baby talk.

about. you know when people raise their voices all high and squeaking, and pout through their words when they talk to babies?…yeah? well imagine that with your husband, katsuki.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, baby talking (lots of w’s involved), cutesy speech, baby doesn’t have a name, new parents, reader is referred to as mommy, fem!reader, girl dad + pro hero!bakugou, uncle!deku.

you’ve always known your husband, bakugou, to be slightly rough around the edges. being the man that he is, and witnessing first hand every struggle he’s ever gone through, it’s hard to imagine him without his hardened outer shell. your katsuki has stood on the brink of death more than once — testing, fighting it… all while facing a world that saw him as good for nothing and evil. 

how could you expect a man like that to be anything other than defensive, brash and bold? katsuki bakugou can be a little harsh, a little too mean at times but that’s never deterred you from giving him all the love he thinks he doesn’t deserve. you’d give him all the stars in the sky if you could, and he would give you the universe in turn. 

he was far from cookie cutter perfect, yet, even with his bumps and sharp edges, katsuki tried to love you and let you in. still, you’d never thought you’d see the day when all of the blonde’s roughness, his bared fangs and callous tongue all melted away for another human being aside from you. 

for your darling baby girl. 

“who’s my ‘eepy lil’ girl? you are! yeah. you are, sweetheart. oh, what’s that? big yawn for daddy?” the blonde coos with a sunshine smile that lights up the entirety of his well-aged face. you’re still young, for parents of a eight month old but even you can see the way that his hair is slightly silvered at his undercut that’s growing out and there are finer lines under ruby framed eyes (the late nights and early starts are probably the reason for that). 

still, with all of this, and even with your genetics throwing a spanner in the works — your daughter is the spitting image of bakugou and he loves her. he loves her pale blonde curls, big bambi red eyes and her all the parts about her that remind him of you. 

pulling her from her crib to settle her on his hip, the bigger bakugou rubs the sleep from her eyes as she wakes up from her nap. “so freakin’ cute.” he hums, licking his thumb to wipe over the traces of tears on her cheeks.

ever since she was born, earlier and around spring time, bakugou has been absolutely obsessed with the tiny human version of him you'd blessed him with. he’ll be the first one up at the crack of dawn when she cries for her breakfast, he’s happy to carry around her dynamight themed baby bag and always apologises to you when you have to change her explosive diapers (or he just does it for you.).

baby dynamight goes everywhere with her daddy, she’d be on patrols if you’d let bakugou take her on them too. she’s absolutely spoiled as well, with more clothes and toys and itty bitty little shoes a baby of her age would need despite how often you tell your husband that she’ll just grow out everything. perhaps your little girl is more spoiled than you — not that you mind, because it only means you get to witness adorable moments like these each and every day.

“katsuki, she’s supposed to be lying down.” you remind him gently, stepping past the threshold of the nursery to be by his side. your daughter instantly reaches out to curl three of her tiny fingers around your index, drooling in content between both of her parents.

bakugou looks down at you with a distraught pout. “yeah… but she woke up cryin’ f’me so i came to check on my sweepy wittol pwincess.” you giggle at how high pitched katsuki makes his voice when he talks about your daughter, baby-talking her whilst waving her tiny little hand at you. “say hi to momma, sweet girl. say hi!” 

the mini bakugou tucked into his bulky arms lets out an excited squeal — though she’s quickly distracted by mapping her hands up and down the squiggly lines (tattoos) on daddy’s arms. 

“exactly,” you press, grabbing an uravity themed spit up cloth from the diaper station behind you moth. carefully, you mop up the drool tracks baby dynamight leaves on katsuki before dabbing at her chin as well. “we’re trying to get her to learn how to go back to sleep on her own. which means?” 

“leavin’ her to cry until she falls back to sleep….” 

“which is why?” 

bakugou’s shoulders sag in defeat. you know how much he hates leaving her to cry, it’s been difficult for him to adjust to not just picking her up whenever she needs or he wants to. “you invited stupid deku over ‘n daddy has to have stupid drinks with his big stupid broccoli head, ain’t that right gorgeous?” your baby grins with her gums again and bakugou blows a raspberry at her. “oh yeah? yes it is! look at that pretty girl smilin’, just like momma.” 

you know he’s trying to butter you up for more time with her — you’re a sucker for the father-daughter bond they have already, you fear that you might melt if you look at the two of them together any longer. they’re a sight for sore eyes, the two loves of your life cuddled up with each other, baby bakugou’s pudgy cheek resting on katsuki’s warm chest (no doubt lulling her back to sleep).

“katsuki please,” you plead weakly, ready to give up on being the rain on this baby parade so you can scoop your little girl up and shower her with kisses. “we have guests and she needs to go back to sleep. or she’ll be up in the middle of the night.” 

the elder blonde can’t help the proud smile that illuminates his face as he watches his two girls together — the way you fiddle with her baby grow to make sure she’s cosy. “s’okay, daddy’ll wake up for you, won’t he?” bakugou sways from side to side, toying with all the tiny features on your daughter before catching your exasperated look. “alright, fine. back to sleep we go princess. don’t mind mommy, she’s jus’ bein’ meanie who won’t let me show you off.” 

there’s a tender moment, where time stands still, while katsuki lowers his pride and joy back into her crib — fighting back what are probably tears as she clings onto every part of him, looking up at him with her matching big beautiful ruby eyes. he feels as though he’s looking into a mirror that reflects not only him but parts of you as well. 

“night night princess, goodnight! daddy loves ya—“

said moment is lost when izuku stops by the nursery on his way back down stairs from the bathroom. “wait, kacchan baby-talks?” 

“of course i do nerd!” bakugou’s head whips up faster than the speed of sound, and you have to refrain from laughing at how fast he goes from soft and tender father to deku’s public enemy number one. “she’s my fuckin’—”  the blonde pauses after receiving a warning glance from you. no cursing in front of the baby. “freakin’ kid!”

the number one raises his hands in surrender, sheepish laughter spilling out of him. “relax kacchan! i was only teasing.” 

“tease my ass! you go ‘nd have a kid with your partner ‘n see what it turns you into — in fact, ‘m surprised you don’t have a whole litter already. what with the way you two are fuckin’.”

“oh that’s rich coming from you, kacchan. you guys  literally conceived at my family barbecue last year!” 

“well you fucked on my desk. my desk. so it’s only right that we—!” 

while the boys bicker, you make quick work of ensuring your daughter is safely tucked in and her pacifier is popped into her mouth just in case she wakes up again and needs to soothe herself. stroking back her peach fuzz curls, you press a kiss to the soft membrane of her skull and pull back with a wistful grin while she drifts off to sleep again. her unfairly long lashes flutter against your hand, mostly inherited from her father.

“alright boys, that’s enough!” you whisper yell, hands still on the bar of the crib to make “don’t you see that she’s sleeping again? we wouldn’t wanna wake her up, right?” 

katsuki pouts. “you’re right, sorry, sweetness.” 

midoriya nods along agreeably, taking a peek at his sleeping niece from the doorway.“right! otherwise we’d have to send daddy back in there to save baby girl’s day. he can’t resist his pwecious gwirl.” 

“i said shut the fuck up, izuku!” your husband snarls, cheeks burning fire truck red. 

“yes daddy!” izuku bats his eyelashes at him.

“i’ll kill you, nerd.”

“i’d like to see you try, daddy!”

“boys!” 

you do try your best to intercept, but your daughter beats you to it — waking up with a fresh set of tears and a wail so loud it has two big, burly pro heroes baby-talking her in an attempt to get her right back to sleep.  

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

"Let me grow old with you and I promise to be wiser," took my whole damn breath away 🫠 got me melting.

Uh-oh! I think you're holding the heart of mine!

Synopsis ! You should have known better than to love someone so cruel.

Content and warning: Ao'nung x Reader! Ao'nung is a mean IDIOT, his friends too. BULLIES >:[ he comes around tho (2.6k words of angst to comfort hahah)

You’ve been in love with Ao’nung since you were little kids, always trailing behind like a second shadow and mimicking even the smallest gestures. To you, he was the sun; so bright and achingly alluring, but like the sun, he was cruel— oh so cruel. He’d burn you every chance he gets and you’d take it willingly, grateful for even the slightest touch of warmth. 

You never took it to heart. Never. This was a challenge that you’ve accepted with great pride thinking that you could crack his mean demeanor; you were convinced that the reason he had this seemingly tough exterior was because he was future clan leader— of course he needed to be strong. It would be bad for his image to falter, let alone to a girl who held no title whatsoever. You were nobody. 

Tsireya would say otherwise. though. She was your number one supporter; always urging you to do better and to continue with your cute antics towards his brother. She knows you’d be great for him— heck, you were the only one she deemed suitable for Ao’nung. How could she not think so? You were a great hunter, always quick on your feet and vigilant. On top of that, you were resilient. You never knew when to give up. 

You were believed to have been loved, regardless of his very actions. You remember crying to Tsireya one afternoon, showing her the graze on your forearm. The sight of it alarmed her— anything bloodied, even in the smallest of form would worry any kid so she rushed you to her mother. 

Ronal cooed while she tended to your wound and you unconsciously poured your heart out about how Ao’nung had pushed you harshly down the sand, scraping your skin on scattered rocks in the process. His friends had laughed at you, pointing their fingers to your fragile form, cowering. 

“Maybe he’s being aggressive because he likes you back!” Tsireya reasons, oblivious to what really was the case— but you were only kids, rough housing and games like these were normal so you didn’t know any better either. You wiped your runny nose and took a deep breath. 

“You really think so?” and still you were hopeful. 

Tsireya nodded enthusiastically, taking your hands near her chest. Ronal softly smiled, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “I’m sorry about Ao’nung, ma __. I’ll be sure to give him a good scolding later when he gets home.”

“And who knows, maybe he does like you. Boys just don’t like to talk about their feelings.” What Ronal said only burned your hopes higher— encouraging your heart to push for a longer run.

It wasn’t always like this. You and him were best of friends, inseparable and kind. You were a trio along with Tsireya and you absolutely loved spending time with them; swimming, exploring the ocean– being kids. Ever since, you knew he was the one, almost like it was the great mother’s own will. The feelings blossomed every spent time with him and you cherished it wholeheartedly. 

“You should eat plenty so that you grow up to be strong, Ao’nung!” You’d force bits of fish near his lips, urging him to open up. He was throwing a tantrum after being scolded by Ronal, arms tightly crossed and refusing to eat anything. “I don’t want a lanky mate!”

And of course it had been a joke. You’d love him regardless of what he looked like and you knew it, but it was so forward of you and it would always catch him off guard. His cheeks would burn bright red and he’d turn into a stuttering mess. 

“Mate?” He asked incredulously which you returned with an eager nod. ”That’s grown up talk! Don’t say things like that until we’re older.” 

“You’re gonna have so many pretty children!” Tsireya would comment and you both would squeal, oblivious to the frantic young boy. 

After he had started to train, Ao’nung was naturally introduced to other warriors. He fit in perfectly. As much as you were happy for him, that was also when things took a turn and before you know it, it was only you and Tsireya left. 

Ao’nung thought that what you had for him would be harmless– a silly crush your young heart couldn’t comprehend yet, but you had now grown into a fine woman and the said love had developed just as much. The people weren’t blind to see how you’ve matured so beautifully– but the men your age knew better than to even try to talk to you. Everyone knew you had eyes for Ao’nung and him only, and the way he grew himself had women dote for him. 

It drove him crazy; the sly comments, the lingering touch, the gifts– your very presence. He didn’t know how to handle it, so when his heart beat turned frantic everytime, he’d call it frustration. How his face would burn, how his chest would tighten. Ao’nung was conflicted and his mother was right– boys don’t like to talk about their feelings and he never will. 

He’d push you away harshly. Snapping the countless bracelets you’ve carefully crafted for him, embarrassing you regardless of eyes watching, and belittled you any chance he gets. Every woman would cry there and then, immediately running off in embarrassment– but you stayed everytime and it infuriated him. Ao’nung couldn’t shake you off, even if you weren’t around. You were everywhere he went, even in dreams. 

You sat with him as he sharpened his fishing spear, not even sparing a glance at your presence. “Oel ngati kameie, Ao’nung.” 

The silence didn’t falter you. In fact, it was inviting you to continue. You were surprised he hadn’t even got up to leave so you gratefully took the opportunity and handed him a present wrapped in leaves. He dropped his weapon and begrudgingly took it, opening it in one go. 

It was a pretty tie with various beads along the strings. His hair was sometimes unruly and he disliked braiding it, so you figured you’d make him something to wear. For a minute, he stared, admiring it– but the way your smile grew every second had embarrassed him. Ao’nung snickered, throwing it carelessly on the ground and you immediately scrambled to look for it.

“I’m not interested.” He emphasized every word as if he tried to make you understand, harshly kicking the sand towards your kneeling body. Ao’nung left and you could only stare with a sigh.  

So maybe this time, you were to blame. After all the years he’d push you away, embarrass you in front of his friends, you were still the same stupid shell of a girl who thought he had finally changed– he had finally cracked and you were confident. It was afternoon when they approached you, asking for your presence while they hunted further the reefs. Ao’nung had asked you– Ao’nung.

Nothing else mattered, not even the obvious snickers from the background. You nodded enthusiastically, tripping on your heels as you hurriedly ran back home to get ready. They had already mounted their Ilu when you returned and without a word, you followed them. 

So maybe this time, you were to blame. You should’ve known better than to be so trusting– so gullible and naive. Night was approaching quickly and Ao’nung or any of his friends were nowhere to be seen. The thrashing waves would unmercifully shove your small body on the very rock that helped you keep afloat, its harsh and sharp edges scratching your skin. The ocean was reprimanding you, you’ve concluded after trying to hold on for hours– the blame was yours and yours only. Stupid, stupid girl.

They had left you and this time, you knew well enough it had been their intention. 

They were laughing back at shore, applauding themselves for a successful prank. You were to return later all disheartened and the sight would be the cherry on top, but Ao’nung grew restless every minute. This was wrong and he knew that well. 

His friends had already bid their goodbyes but he stood there, waiting. He started to walk in circles while fidgeting his fingers– something was wrong. Perhaps it was a sibling thing for Tsireya to start feeling uneasy as well, so she excused herself from her mother and seeked for his brother. It wasn’t hard to find him and when she did, her panic only worsened as she approached him. 

“What’s wrong, brother?” Tsireya asked, eyebrows knitted together. 

“__” He immediately answered, “__ is outside the reef.”

Tonowari and a few warriors immediately ventured out to search for you. Tsireya couldn't even be enraged at his brother as she was busy worrying herself– but Ronal was a different case. She had been biting his ear off the very moment he told her what happened but Ao’nung easily tuned her out, only hearing his rapid heartbeat. 

It felt like forever, but the moment his father had returned, he ran towards him straight away. There you were, a warrior propping you up gently as you limped. You were bloodied and out of breath– he winced at the cuts coating your skin. Before he could even approach you, you had flinched. 

The look you gave him made him shudder. It was so unlike you to look at him differently, so empty and void of any admiration. Suddenly, his throat was awfully parched and he was entirely unmoving– all the apologies that were begging to be spat out from the tip of his tongue, gone. You stood there, staring with your teary doe eyes. 

His presence made you nauseous and you would’ve cowered in instinct, if not for the warrior’s hold on your shoulders. You could’ve died– you almost did; you were already slipping and numb.

Your parents had immediately ran to you, crying as they held you near. They rushed your weary body to Ronal in a heartbeat. The clan spoke in whispers as Tonowari dispersed the growing crowd. 

Ao’nung could only watch at your retreating figure. He visibly gulped. This was it, he thought, this was what he wished for. 

And it had only hurt him terribly.

He stayed near the hut regardless and heard how you whimpered– how you’d sniffle and cry. The paste burned against your skin and you couldn’t help but squirm. You felt so ugly, so humiliated and little. 

Ronal finally walks out, the sound of the flap waking Ao’nung’s drowsy state. “Mother, how is she?” He receives only a scornful glare as she walks past him. 

“Mother, please.” 

“I am deeply disappointed in you, Ao’nung” She said, clearly holding back. The tsahik sighed, “but for her sake, I will save you from any more scolding. It is what she asks for.” 

And it was so like you to think of him before yourself. It applied more pressure on his already beaten heart and he could only drop his head in shame. This was his fault and he had to face the consequences he so begged for all these years– so where did this sickening desire to hold you close come from? It was bittersweet on his tongue and no water could get rid of the taste. 

“I know that look, brother.” Tsireya didn’t have to glance to see his troubled state. It’s been days– no, weeks. He couldn’t get to you; skilfully blending in with your surroundings and out his sight, scurrying quickly towards another direction– it was clear you wanted nothing to do with him. 

It pained him– absolutely shattered him to pieces. 

“I can’t reach her, Tsireya.” His frown deepens as he frustratingly tugged on his hair. 

“And you will never again!” Ao’nung flinched. As much as Tsireya enjoyed the torment of his brother, she still rooted for the both of you– still standing firm with the fact that you’d do good for him, but she thought of you and knew you also deserved better. With a dejected sigh, she whispers,  “If.. you don’t hurry.” 

“Her hideout. Now. Go make things right.” Tsireya hoped she was doing the right thing.

Ao’nung darted in a heartbeat– disrupting the busy clan and accidentally bumping into them. He couldn’t waste any time anymore, he had to get to you or else he’d forever hold his peace. Every step he took was an image of you with someone else; someone else willing to make you happy, someone else to be your mate. 

And he hated that. It only fueled him to go faster, eventually reaching a pond surrounded by trees. The place was hidden and only the three of you knew where it was located– it was your safe place.

There you were, relaxed and unknowing. It was cruel like this; for Eywa to strikingly illustrate you in a different light– in a different point of view, or perhaps it had never changed and he just chose to never look at you the way he’s staring now. You were absolutely beautiful, basking in the glow of the dusk. The water swayed you gently and the calm on your face was inviting. 

This was his only chance. 

Ao’nung approached you, allowing the water to swallow him near you. He called out your name in a whisper and you immediately turned to him in surprise. Before he could even get another word out, you tried to hoist yourself up to escape, but he was quick to grab your wrist. 

You hissed in return, his touch burning the healing cuts on your skin. “You don’t get to be sorry.” 

You had turned your back on him and only then did he see the same tie that you tried to give him around your hair. It was gut-wrenching– the taste of his own medicine. 

“I knew you wanted me off your skin, but I didn’t realize you wanted me gone.” And he knew what you meant, immediately wincing at the thought.

“I’m sorry, __” The apology came out almost in a desperate manner. Ao’nung was aching to touch you– to hug you close. He was willing to apologize forever, if it meant that you’d finally turn around and look at him, but when you did, his body went rigid and he wanted to swallow his words. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

You were crying and you looked everywhere but him. He took a step forward and when you didn’t retreat, he took the chance to hold your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. You absolutely hated it– hated him. Even after everything, he was warm. “You don’t get to be sorry.”

“How could you be so,” You hit his chest harshly, the water splashing along your movements, “How could you be so mean?”

“I am young, __” Ao’nung softly said, his eyes on you unmoving. “Young and absolutely stupid.” 

“Damn right you are.”

He let out a breathy chuckle. “I never had anyone love me the way you do. Anyone who paid me any mind wanted me for my status– they only wanted the olo'eyktan’s son.” 

You turned your head with a click of a tongue, only for him to grab your chin to look at him again. Of course you never wanted him because of his or his parent’s title– you loved him genuinely and he was a coward to not see that. His expression was nothing but sincere and you hated it.

“I am young and stupid, __, so please.” He takes another step forward and you were sure the small gap between your bodies had cut your inability to breathe. The water had gone cold and you couldn’t move. You stayed there, looking up at him. “Let me grow old with you and I promise to be wiser.” 

“I see you, __.”

☆ mauve here! FINALLY DONE W THIS AO'NUNG PIECE, JESUS CHRIST. this was actually the first thing i've originally written prior to making this account because the lack of aonung content was >:(((( so here i am, giving him my long awaited attention. finding pictures of him were so hard as well! i enjoyed writing this though, i love aonung and his sibling dynamic w tsireya

i left this in a cliffhanger, i think, BECAUSE personally i wouldn't let that slide. i wouldve left aonung to beg FOR DAYS but eh

© avatarkv, do not repost.

STOP IM SOBBING 😭

EVERY CORNER OF THIS HOUSE IS HAUNTED. (2)

Synopsis ! Jake had taken you as his own after Tsu'tey's passing, leaving no one to care for you. Things had been good before your relationship with him had blurred along growing of age. You and him fought all the time; argued each other's ear off and tonight was no different-- except words have been said, severing the already damaged bond. Content & warning Jake sully x Daughter!Reader, Sully kids x Sister!Reader Neytiri x Daughter!Reader. (wc: 5264)

You swung your legs over the edge, feet ghosting just above the calm lake that surrounded this part of the forest. It was a bit far from the village, but you felt more at ease knowing that you wouldn’t be found easily. This was your own place and ironically enough, a spot you and Jake had found years ago. You could see the familiar marks left from the arrows you had shot, deeply engraved in some of the trunks. 

One drawing had caught your eye. From one of the trees, a bit taller than the rest; an image of you and your father. It was silly, clearly etched by the hands of a kid no older than six. The lines were harsh as the wood itself was tough, but it was there– almost mockingly. You scoffed, mindlessly grabbing a pebble and flinging it right on the center. 

You have barely moved since you arrived here; detached yourself the moment you had sat near the jagged rocks. It was a habit you presumed you got from Jake. The longer you stayed, the more you succumbed to your ever-bleeding wounds– there was just something so tragic about being an eldest daughter.   

You weren’t all bite, despite the constant snarl on your lips. You weren't so egotistical as to think that you couldn't possibly be wrong, but tonight, tonight you knew damn well Jake was to blame. 

‘Is it because I’m not your daughter?’ 

Your own voice had rang through your mind. You wince in response, cringing internally. That could very well be the case– you weren't part of their family. You can’t help but think that they may have done it out of pity. 

But Kiri wasn’t exactly their own either. In fact, you and Kiri weren’t at all opposites at birth.

While you came from Tsu’tey, she was from Grace; both of you from separate blood and brought together by one. However you weren’t exactly close to Eywa or have the skills she possessed. Kiri was undeniably special– spiritual and awfully attuned. Heck, she had managed to tame her own ikran simply by asking it to be her friend. 

Still, there was no reason for Jake to treat you differently. You were jealous– of course you are. If he’s able to be as gentle as he is with your baby sister, why couldn’t he with you? It was a sickening thought, to think that he acts so rigid and unrelenting around you while he looked at her like she had hanged every star in the night sky. Sure Kiri was special, but you were at least his daughter too. Can’t he spare you even just a second of a loving glance?

With Kiri, he listens intently– looks at her with such tenderness as he takes in her every word. It was the same gaze he wore whenever we visited the sky-people lab; Jake would stare a bit too long at Grace, expression somewhere along the line of reminiscing. Whenever he had moments like these, his eyes would hold some sort of longing– a promise. Perhaps it was because Grace meant the world to him– literally. She taught him everything about Pandora, showed him the way of the Na’vi; gave him another shot at living. 

Kiri was exactly like her mother; wise and cunning. Jake probably sees Grace in her very image.  

You’d think this would be the embodiment of every father with their daughters; kind and vulnerable, but you would argue otherwise. When he looked at you, it was more of regret– grief prolonging. It was a gaze so ugly and unwanted; a weight you’re not supposed to carry. 

Because you’re exactly like Tsu’tey and Jake sees him in yourself. 

It was no secret that Jake was softer when it came to Tuk and Kiri. While you are relieved that it had been that way, you can never pray for them to experience the struggles you are burdened with– it tugged on your heartstrings that you would never feel the warmer side of your father; will never know how it feels to be babied nor to be held gently. 

You were her daughter too so you didn’t understand. What made you any different from them that you had to pretend his love was hidden beneath his icy glares and dismissive grunts? These were emotions nonetheless– however odd or minuscule they may have been. You thought that maybe, just maybe, there’d be a crack to this exterior. Maybe if you tried harder, Jake would soften up to you too. 

But that wasn’t the case because he never did. You had picked apart pieces of yourself that you thought weren’t pleasing– did better despite your age. You were young and only yearned for your father’s approval. 

( “You’re not doing it right. Again.” 

As you stretched your already sore arms for the nth time, ready to take aim, his hands tug on your stance– a bit harsher than intended. Light continued to glare down on your figure as you tirelessly corrected your posture again. Your ears pricked up at the sound of your sibling’s laughter, coming to you from afar. You stole a glance at them as they continued to play and enjoy themselves by the water, their childish exuberance highlighted by their splashing around in the shallow waves.

“Can’t I take a break?” You whined, dropping your stiff shoulders. Hearing them have fun made you want to jump in as well. 

“I didn’t let you talk my ear off just to give up. Come on, you promised me a bullseye today, baby girl.” He said, eyebrows furrowing a bit. You look down to your feet, a bit embarrassed. You didn’t want him to not take you seriously– you fear that if you let him down now, he wouldn’t let you do anything again. “Just one hit and I’ll let you off–”

His head turns sharply towards Kiri as she calls out for Jake, asking him to join them in their game. He can't help but to let out a small chuckle as he yells back a short response of ‘in a minute.’

“Again, come on.” His hands move quickly and firmly grasp your arms, helping you back to the same position before. “I’ll be watching, promise.” With a light tap on your shoulder, he rushes off, chasing after your siblings towards the water.

The quicker you got it done, the sooner you would be able to play. You pulled on the string again and released a heavy sigh before releasing the arrow. After several tries of firing shots that missed their mark, you finally managed to hit dead center with one shot. Your eyes widen in surprise, disbelief crossing your face before you jump excitedly, “Did you see that, dad? Did you–”

Your yell was instantly drowned out by Lo'ak's hearty laugh. You couldn't help but feel deflated as you watched your father lift him up onto his shoulders while the others trailed behind them in a fit of giggles. You run towards them, bow in hand. 

“You weren’t watching–” You tried to pull his hand in your direction, gesturing towards the arrow that was still firmly embedded into the red ring you had created on the trunk of the tree.

"Ah, darn, I missed it?" He said between breathy chuckles as Kiri tried to tug on his tail from behind, barely taking note of your work. "Why don't you do it again? This time I'll be sure to pay attention."

“But I want to play with you now.” 

“Dad– Neteyam caught something! It’s huge, come look!” Jake slowly lowers Lo'ak from his shoulders, letting them pull him towards where Neteyam stood. The children squealed at the sight of the fish (with Kiri letting out a few disgusted gags), but Jake reveled in pride. “Yeah, Neteyam, the mighty fisherman!”

You stayed still on the shore watching them– watching him. It was so easy to lose your father’s attention despite your best efforts. You retreated back to your spot, eyes glaring at the arrow sticking out from the tree. If a single bullseye wasn’t enough to impress Jake, then you’d just have to perfect your aim. Your hits will never miss again and you’ll make him proud.) 

You were clueless. If only you knew that there was no satisfying your father, you would’ve spent the days tirelessly training to play instead– to be an actual kid without having the worries of a grown adult. 

You could leave. At the thought of it, your head swiveled towards the unfamiliar path that would take you away from the clan– away from everything you know. You could leave and never come back; take your father’s name and build your own person. There was this selfish thought pricking at the back of your brain that once they noticed your absence, everyone would look for you and even feel sorry for what they put you through; that Jake would be sorry to lose you. 

You wonder what kind of reputation you'd leave for him when everyone realizes you had run away, never to come back. But it was unfair– your mother would be devastated. Neytiri had already gone through enough, were you worth another heartbreak? She didn’t deserve that. 

Suppose you could only dream that Jake would put on an effort for a search party– for him to grow hopeless and regretful while searching for you. You could only dream that he’d run towards you, arms wide open. “You scared me, sweetheart. I thought I lost you. I’m sorry, dad’s sorry.” 

But you’ve been away for hours and no one has reached out yet. They probably assumed that you only needed some time and space to clear your head, not seeing any cause for alarm. The only thing that waited for you back home was a hell of a scolding and a week’s punishment of tending the ikrans. Sighing, you decided to just head back.  

Your steps are careful– silent, as you near your hut again. You expected for the worst. Neytiri could have told Jake to stay guard outside until you finally decided to come home for all you know, but you weren’t ready for another heated conversation with him just yet. So as you make your way back, you stick your neck out behind the bushes, trying to make out of the surroundings. 

Surprisingly, it wasn’t Jake that was waiting outside. It was Kiri. Her figure glows underneath the starry night and it was hard not to be discouraged, but you suppose it was better than having to deal with your father again. 

"Kiri?" You called out in a low voice, and instantly her head snapped up. She quickly jumps to her feet upon seeing your arrival, heart racing as she rushes towards you. Without hesitation, she wraps her arms tightly around you in a hug. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to try and steady herself. “Oh great mother, thank you.”

You tentatively put your arms around her in response, hands patting the top of her head. “This isn’t the first time I ran from home,” Your voice is soft– unsure. 

Feeling your hesitance, she slowly withdraws from you. “But it’s the first time sempul has said something so..” She stops herself mid-sentence, shaking her head as if to clear away her thoughts. “I worry you’d finally want to leave.” 

You stared at her, feeling your insides soften. You could never get angry at Kiri, no matter the situation. You couldn’t just leave. She was your sister still and no one would ever understand you like she does. No one will ever grow you another sibling. As much as you hated yourself, you were meant to watch as she thrives.  

Siblings were such a weird concept; it was hard for you to wrap your head around it. Despite the fact that you could hate them with every fibre of your being, you’d still love them unconditionally and protectively; despise them but burn down the whole universe for their safety. It made no sense to be so full of such strong, conflicting emotions all at once, but she was your sister and that was enough explanation.

“Stupid eywa-powers.” You joke as you take your index finger, lightly pressing it against her forehead. She playfully swats your hand away with a laugh, eyes crinkling.

She silently murmurs, “Not stupid” to herself, a small laugh escaping her lips.

You two slowly sat on your wicker chairs in front of the fire. The seat creaked as you made yourself comfortable. Jake was real handy with his hands back then– made all sorts of things for everyone. Wooden Toruks, comfortable hammocks, and each one a special chair. Everyone’s name was etched on the back and although it was a bit smaller now, considering it was made for when you were toddlers, no one had grown out of sitting on it. 

You smiled at the memory. It was like tradition for the Sully family– a silly one, but loved nonetheless. He first made you the wicker chair and although it was rather flimsy, you argued that Neteyam should have one as well when he came around. 

It was so conflicting– to be able to remember your father was mean, despite being kind, then to know him as kind, despite being mean. You fear Jake could be every word you think of but the word father. 

“Remember that time when we played hide-and-seek and we all thought Lo’ak cheated by hiding back at home only to find out we left him at the forest?” Kiri spoke, eyes fixated at the flames. 

You chuckled, “Yeah, even dad was in on it– told us not to tell mom that we left him.”

“Oh– and that one time they left us to Mo’at to have their little dates and came home to see grandma knocked out and her hut a mess?”

You laughed, rather loudly this time. You remembered the memory like it was yesterday– little Neteyam wrapped from head to toe in bandages as you two tried to play healers; pastes and herbs were scattered everywhere while Lo’ak was playing to his own devices happily (something about kid Lo’ak and wanting to play alone most of the time). “Lo’ak and his lisp trying to explain why he was covered in warrior paint all over his body.”

“Ki-ti told me to do it!” Kiri squeaked out in her best impression of Lo’ak, before both of you burst into smothered laughter— careful not to wake anyone up. After taking a few moments to catch your breath, the area was silent once more. There was no sound other than the crackle of the fire, its flame illuminating the darkness in the vicinity. 

“I’m trying to see the situation in both perspectives,” She starts once the quietness grows unbearable. You averted your gaze, not wanting to talk it out with her.

“I really don’t wanna talk about it, Kiri.” You threw your head back, your eyes burning a hole into the night sky.

“I just don’t want it to explode like what happened a while ago again.” 

You kiss your teeth and let out an exasperated sigh, tongue clicking as you exhale. Deep down you knew that there was no getting out of this situation, so you may as well hear what they had to say. “Fine. What’s your diagnosis, doc?” 

The flap of the hut's entrance is suddenly thrown back, revealing a rather disoriented looking Lo'ak stumbling out. It's clear he had just been stirred from his slumber. “You two aren’t as quiet as you think you are.” He said, his voice low. He made his way over to Kiri and sat down beside her with an audible yawn. “What is it this time?”

“Eywa tells me of your troubles,” Kiri starts, ignoring Lo’ak. “Father isn’t at all the greatest, I know, but he’s trying– His choices aren't really the best, but it’s what he knows. If you think about it, he was just as young once and you don’t exactly become a father twice.” 

“What are you saying?” 

“She’s saying– cut him some slack, maybe?” Lo'ak breaks the stillness with an unexpected remark, his voice quite loud in comparison to Kiri's careful words. His comment catches you off guard and you shift your position uncomfortably on your seat.

“Brother, you really have to stop going out with Spider. You and your lingo is getting harder and harder to discern.” Kiri jabs him from the side, “What he means to say is– maybe you should try being the bigger person instead?”

You let out a deep breath through your nostrils, not enjoying the direction of the conversation. Your brow crinkles in concentration as you try to make sense of why the discussion was taking this turn. You had no desire to pick apart the problem any further and yet, here you were– perhaps Neytiri told them to talk some sense to you? To quiet down for the sake of your old man?

Already sensing your anger, Lo’ak quickly interjects again. “Listen, It’s like,” He turns to you, the grogginess in his expression fading away and being replaced by something more serious. “If dad happens to reprimand us, we save our excuses or any reason we have. The response he wants is an apology and an apology is what you’re going to say– that’s it.”

“But that’s unfair.” You let out a groan, lips turning into a deep frown. “Especially to you and Neteyam.”

Lo’ak only lets out a playful scoff, as if he’s trying to lighten the mood. “You mean, especially to Neteyam. Bro’s an automated machine– expect him to immediately take the blame.” He says, grinning. “I think dad is just.. cracking the code still? Shit, I don’t know. He had to learn to live on two different stars. It must be hard on him.”

“Doesn’t it hurt you? Trying to understand someone older?” 

Lo’ak stills for a minute as heavy silence envelopes everyone. “Of course it does. It stings a lot sis– but I think, no parent deserves a resentful son when all they wanted was for me to be better.” 

Then it crashes down upon you like a heavy sack filled with rocks, a realization pressing directly against your chest as you watch Lo’ak’s face, illuminated against the flicker of the flames– the lights cast an image you failed to recognize before. Your brothers weren’t exactly immune to Jake’s ways either. He was equally as tough on them. 

Maybe you can try for their sake. Maybe you should take the initiative instead of waiting for your father’s open arms. 

“Why don’t you join us tomorrow instead? Take your mind off things. We’re visiting the old shack with Spider,” Lo'ak's hand carefully reaches for your hair, the tips of his fingers ruffling through your braids– a gesture he picked up after Neteyam. You chuckle, suddenly slightly embarrassed. 

“Isn’t it dangerous?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed. 

“It is,” Kiri answers for Lo’ak, giving him a pointed glare. “Tuk heard about it and is begging to come along.” 

“More like blackmailed me– I’ll tell mom if you won’t let me come.” He put on a mocking impression of Tuk, sticking his tongue out in an exaggerated way. Kiri gave him another jab, causing him to hiss in response. “But it should be safe.” 

Kiri rolls her eyes. “We are so getting into trouble.”

“You guys go,” You say, back resting against the chair again. “Think I should fix the situation with dad first before getting in trouble again.” 

You feel Kiri’s eyes on you– gaze emitting a sense of gratitude, almost like a tangible thank you for trying. It’s funny how she’s younger than you and yet she looked out for you more than you had. 

You let out a deep sigh as the three of you settled in, reveling in the quiet serenity of the woods. The soft sounds of the forest enveloped you, providing a sense of calm that was hard to miss. Slowly, it lulled you all to a familiar kind of comfort. 

Breakfast was unsurprisingly silent. 

You felt like the room was full of robots, their limbs jerking and movements mechanically programmed as they ate. As everyone shifted ever so slightly, it seemed almost like they were doing it robotically - stiff and slow. It was like they were walking on eggshells around you and it was hard not to roll your eyes. 

It was painfully awkward– a hard watch as Jake tried hard not to make eye contact with you. Neytiri would occasionally jab him from the side and pinch the fat of his thigh. ‘Talk to her.’ – her glare would send him the message. 

He lets out a sigh before visibly gulping. “Y/n.” 

Your head suddenly jerks upwards from the bowl resting in your lap, startled by your father’s voice calling for you. Neytiri watches in anticipation while your heart pounded madly against your chest. Suddenly, the air fills with tension as all movement ceases. Not a single soul speaks or breathes– waiting.

“Pass the salt.” Jesus Christ. 

You give him a deadpan expression, stretching your arms over to pass it to him. He carefully takes it, shaking it over his already salty meal. Neytiri could only push her hands against her face in frustration, a groan of exasperation coming from deep within. After a few minutes, she finishes up and leaves with Tuk in her arms. The rest follow suit.  

“I’m off,” You finish cleaning up the table, standing up from your seat and grabbing the weapons you needed for an impromptu hunt. Without waiting for a reply, you left Jake alone on the table. 

As you trekked further into the forest, you prayed to Eywa for guidance. You were careful to smear the war paint onto your cheeks and forehead– breathing labored, but focused nonetheless. 

You figured, your father has been doing bad from the recent hunts– only coming home with fruits and small portions of meat, sometimes none at all. It was that kind of season where the animals were out to hide and hibernate. You didn’t know where you got the confidence that you’d be able to return with something, considering the best next best warriors could hardly do so. 

You had to try regardless; you thought that perhaps it could be a way for you and Jake to open up a conversation with each other. Maybe he could soften down his glare a bit when you come home with something to eat– but as hours passed and the sun burned to noon, you were only met with disappointment. 

You stopped by an unfamiliar area, leaning against a tree as you tried to catch your breath. You regret not bringing your ikran with you– just what were you thinking?

As if the great mother had noticed your desperation, a familiar sound roars from a distance. Your ears perked up as you tried to walk through the thick bushes. A lone sturmbeest, drinking by the river. You sighed in relief before hurriedly taking your bow out of your back. They mostly traveled by a herd, but today might just be your luckiest– you stretch your arms, carefully approaching the animal. 

Just this once, you pleaded, be in my favor. 

The journey home was dreadful. You had been carrying meat and a few bones for what seemed like hours on end, feeling the strain in your back from the task. It was a small sturmbeest– presumably female by the size, but it should be enough to provide meals for a week or so. Before you knew it, eclipse approached fast and you were eager to meet your hammock. 

You couldn’t see; unable to hold any form of light as you needed both hands to carry the heavy sack, but the thought of going home with something to proudly show your father rekindled the sense of pride that was long gone; a feeling you hadn't had in a long time– burned by the countless times you’ve tried to gain even a drop of recognition.

You were successful in hunting a sturmbeest when no one couldn’t for the past weeks– your father would be proud and that was all the strength you needed to continue waking. 

Noticing the familiar path back to the clan, a surge of adrenaline courses through your body from the thought of already nearing home. But as the horns blared from the village, you felt nothing but confusion– What could it mean and why this late? You quickened your pace towards them. 

Ikrans flew in, landing at the open space as everyone gathered around. You squeezed your way in through the crowd– stomach churning as the sound of Tuk's cries became more and more clear with every step; but before you could run to your baby sister, you were harshly pulled back. You immediately recognize your father’s calloused hands, but this time his grip was harsh– unrelenting. Careful not to trip on your feet, you steadied yourself, head looking up to meet his glare. 

“Where were you?” 

And just like that, your thoughts come crashing down around you from the sight of your father towering your figure, leaning in slightly. You feel it in the pit of your stomach; this wasn't what you wanted to come home to, this wasn't what you were expecting.

“Sir I–” 

“The kids are hurt,” Neytiri hissed, tugging him sharply away from you. “For once, hold your tongue.”

He gives you one last glance, nostrils flaring as he walks away. That was your cue to trail behind. You walked behind him, eyes cast downwards as your thoughts raced through your mind. Neytiri is quick to come and stand by your side, soft kisses pressed into the top of your head. “Are you hurt, ma’ite? Where were you?” She softly asks. 

You pause, feeling the words on the tip of your tongue leave the moment you try to open your mouth to speak. For some reason, you felt embarrassed— ashamed. 

“What happened?” You whispered as you neared your grandmother’s hut. You glanced back to your sibling’s shivering figures, all of them unable to look you in the eye. Neytiri didn’t answer either– didn’t know how to tell you that they had found them once again. They processed the severity of the situation still, clearly shaken up and scared. 

Everyone stepped inside, Mo'at immediately gathering each of them in a warm embrace. She spoke her thanks to Eywa in a gentle murmur, kissing the top of their heads. Neytiri quickly drew Tuk into her own arms, easing her shaking body. 

“Outside, now.” Jake whispers before leaving. You take one last look around at all the people in the room before finally following him, your palms beginning to sweat as your anxiety intensifies.

Once you both find yourselves in a place where there were no lingering stares or whispers, (and without Neytiri having to save your ass this time), he turns to you, anger just as fiery as before. He strides back and forth, feet heavy on the ground as he attempts to choose his words carefully.

“I–” He started to speak, but then averted his gaze, his jaw clenched tight as he tried again. “Where were you?” 

You try to swallow the lump forming in your throat as you mull over the question, taking a deep breath before finally attempting to answer. “I went out on a hunt. I have–”

“Without telling anyone firsthand? With scattered avatars over the perimeter?” Jake is quick to interject, arms flailing in anger. “Just what were you thinking? You knew about them going to the old shack and you did nothing to prevent it?” 

Your shoulders slump wearily, feeling extremely overwhelmed. “I only wanted to–”

“Jesus Christ, it’s always about what you want, yeah? You with wanting to be olo’eykte, you with wanting to be heard. You and your goddamn wants had us all worried!” 

And as you listen to him raise his voice, you turn younger and younger– until you were that same kid trying to tug on his arms to look at your first hit; that same kid who would do anything just for a moment of his time. It was like being ten years old all over again and realizing that he was slowly slipping away. That’s where you finally decided that Jake— your father, was just capable of unloving a child. 

You take a step back, feeling the frustration boiling over as well. “Well maybe if you were a better father, they wouldn’t have the need to go against you every once in a while!” You shouted with the same volume as his, “You act as if we’re some sort of troops rather than a family–”

“I do it for you– for everyone! To keep them safe! You think it’s easy?” 

“Well you did a pretty good job because from what I see, they’re shaking in their boots inside grandma’s hut!” You sarcastically remarked, “Best dad of Pandora, yeah?” 

“Jesus Christ,” He mutters under his breath before looking up, as if he was pleading for Eywa to lengthen his patience. He then looked at you, eyes momentarily softening. You were breathing heavily, fangs baring. It was funny, he thought. You weren’t his daughter and yet you stood in front of him now looking exactly like him. 

What he didn’t understand was that it wasn't Tsu’tey’s attitude that was passed down to you– rather, it was Jake’s anger you inherited. This was all him. All his fault. 

“I thought I had it good, having Toruk Makto as a father. Five year old me was the proudest, if not a bit boastful too.” You muttered, gaze not meeting his. “There’s this huge difference that draws the line between being the olo’eyktan and a father and you’re doing a real shit job at the latter.”

I miss the latter, you failed to say. 

You failed to see the way his ears flattened against his head, how his shoulders dropped like he couldn’t hold the weight of the world’s pressure anymore– but you were unable to see him. No, you two didn’t see each other eye to eye. To know that you failed your child was something a parent would never want to hear. His own daughter resented him and it was a heartache beyond repair. 

“You think you make parenting any easier for me?” 

“Then I wish you never took me in!” 

It was such a thoughtless thing to do; to utter words that you know will only harm you more than they would ever heal - but it was there, finally out of your system; a though that lingered for as long as you can remember. Why take me in? Why raise a kid you wouldn't be able to care for?

You only wished that words could be undone but neither of you knew when to bite one's tongue back.

“Yeah?” He challenged, letting out a mocking snicker. “I really wish I didn’t– is that what you want me to say? Then go ahead and leave. Find a new family, see if they won’t find you any less difficult.”

And that was the final blow– the push you needed to leave. You looked at him in disbelief, vision blurry with tears. You shoved the bag right to his chest, forgetting it momentarily amidst the shouting session you just had with your father; the one you desperately wanted to present to him. With nothing else to say, you stormed off, leaving him behind. 

Oh Eywa, there is nothing else as undoing as being an eldest daughter. 

believe me, i've been trying to post this since 7 am and it's already a quarter 'til 9. tumblr has got to b fucking w me bec i just ran through at least 4 problems trying to get this on my account

anyway, hellaur. i know this is a bit overdue, but i had to make adjustments because i just had to get everyone's inputs and opinions in! i absolutely LOVE everyone's ideas nd you best believe i am trying to make everything word (also bec of the fact that i am a slow writer, so pls bear w me) hopefully i'm doing the story justice! this part went through a lot of modifications bec i kept feeling unsatisfied (i still am, kinda)

also, i couldn't tag a few people! 'm so sorry, some of the names don't pop up when i type it down ;(

tags: @erm2020quinzeanos @al-lethan @violilaqrs @sparklyphantom @iwanttohitmyself @planetslove @teyamsjustsleeping @sully-stick-together @grandgreengrapes @erensbbg @queen-dk @loaklvr @theyoungeagle @ducks118 @teyyyteyyy @yeosxxx @simply-lovely78 @ellabellabus07 @thehoneymushroomhealer @saturdayrj @kingjulian0o9 @hippiezworldz @joemamalackin @random-3455 @zoetrope1997 @cl0esblogg @anxietydrogz @lokisfirstandlastwife @hiddensnow1 @lunyyx @pearlsandcoconuts @blkmystery @marsbars09 @gcldtom @luna-salem @wolflover384 @mushy-mushroom04 @whatthemonsterfuckisthis @eternalidentity @celi-xxmoon @dumb-fawkin-bitch

First of all. Oh my god. The second hand embarrassment I had when this man couldn't fuck well but when Neteyam came into view. Sir. Give me a knife I will end it all since it wasn't you yourself 🫠🙃

ミ the mightiest

part 1 | part 2

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

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Problem?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey–”

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

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

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

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

“Tawtute?”

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

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

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” You lie. “So good.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-yes.” You say.

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

“How would you like me to–”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” You gasp. “You can move.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck?

Makes me wanna grab my own man and throw him on the couch 😂🧡

It's me again! This is my first time posting a request, sorry! 😅 Fixing it, 5 + bakugou 💥

a/n: you’re okay !! don’t apologize, lovely <333 tysm for sending one in 💞💞💞 SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OMG

cw: virgin!bkg, dry humping

prompt 5: “Is it good when I touch you here?”

[event closed]

—

Through the haze of his mind, Bakugou tries to recall how he landed himself here. Leaning back on your couch, with you perched prettily on his lap. His chest heaves with arousal, and he prays you don’t feel the bulge pushing through his trousers.

-

“Would you like to come in?” you ask shyly, biting your lip. His face flushed at your question, shuffling his feet nervously. “Like, right now?” Your laugh eased his worry, small smile forming on his own face. “Yeah, right now. You totally don’t have to though!” you mumble, “I just like bein around you.” Gods, it was only your guys’ fourth official date and he already thinks he’s in love. “Yeah, I’ll come in,” he said, pressing a kiss to your head. You squeezed his hand with your own, smile brightening. “Great! We can watch a movie or something,” you smile up at him.

—

The movie in question played behind you long forgotten. Moans mixed in with the track playing behind you. He nearly whimpers when you grind yourself into him, hands tightening on your waist. “Is this okay?” you whisper to him, fingers twirling the short hairs on the nape of his neck. He grunts in response, not trusting his ability to his the desperation the claws up his throat. His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling your mouth back onto his. You moan into his mouth when he runs your tongue against his, hips grinding harder onto him. He breaks the kiss, eyes avoiding yours. He clears his throat, willing the heat rushing up his cheeks to stay dormant. “Uhh- I’ve, um. I’ve never done this,” he cringes at his own words. “Oh, that’s alright,” you say with a smile, “we don’t have to do anything.”

“No, it’s not like that— like I haven’t, you know. But it only because—

“Bakugou.”

“—because of paperwork and my job I just don’t really have time to—

“Bakugou.”

“Like I’m not experienced or whatever but I know what I’m doing it doesn’t have to be a weird thing or—

“Katsuki.”

His mouth is quick to close, eyes squeezing shut in embarrassment. “Katsuki,” you whisper, “I’m not worried about it. We can stop.” Your hands card through his hair, forehead falling lightly into his. He breathes heavily through his nose, eyes opening to meet yours. “I want to, eventually. Just, maybe not right now. But I dunno, I— I don’t want to stop.” You’re quick to press your lips to his again, content to let him set his own pace. You gasp in surprise when he grinds you back onto him, hands gripping his hair tighter. You rest your hands over his where they’re resting at your hips, sliding them under your skirt to rest against the bare skin. He moans at the action, warm hands gripping your bare skin to bring you down harder onto him.

“Fuck,” he moans, head falling back, “can feel how wet you are.” You whimper at his words, hips stuttering when he rests his thumb against your throbbing clit. “Is it good when I touch you here?” he whispers, thumb rubbing harsh circles over your covered heat. “Yes! Yes, Katsuki. You— you’re gonna make me cum.” He groans, lips attaching to your neck to nip at the skin. “C’mon, sweet girl. Cum for me.”

A tear falls from your eye as your high washes over you, hips bucking wildly at the intense pleasure. You fall against his chest as you come down, breaths heavy. “You okay?” he whispers, “Feel good?” You hum in approval, moving to peck his lips. “So good. We’re not done though, right? I still want to make you cum,” you say, grinding your hips over his throbbing member. Yeah, he thinks, maybe I am in love.