my foreskin is cold
excitedly alt-tabbing to an open excel spreadsheet called ‘people i follow on tumblr and whether they are circumcised’
Game of Thrones Daily

Origami Around

⁂
Acquired Stardust
trying on a metaphor
Today's Document
hello vonnie

Product Placement

Kiana Khansmith
art blog(derogatory)

Discoholic 🪩
No title available

Andulka

Janaina Medeiros
cherry valley forever
Three Goblin Art
taylor price
Peter Solarz
Cosimo Galluzzi

roma★

seen from Russia

seen from United States

seen from T1
seen from Ukraine

seen from Indonesia

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Belgium

seen from Malaysia
seen from Jordan
seen from Vietnam
seen from United States
seen from Panama
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seen from Türkiye

seen from United Kingdom
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seen from Australia
@d-rook
my foreskin is cold
excitedly alt-tabbing to an open excel spreadsheet called ‘people i follow on tumblr and whether they are circumcised’
Commish for @/thegoodclones18 🔥🌚
Wukula x mc sarentu 💦 hihi♥️
WHEN I TELL YOU THAT MAN IS HOT!!!! Spread them legs girl!
I admit it, i was bounceonit anon1. There was a shame in my chest festering from internet cringe culture getting to me. I will move on, and do better being freaky. However... This supporter.. whoever they may be. They are a genius. They MUST take turns bouncing on it. This is what the bounceonit nation requires.
Also imagine the sensory overload from the feeling of uhh ya know,,, being all around? Filling up all crevices??? Rubs chin thoughtfully. Also is cosmic entity reader lowkey slimey? I think they would be. Slimey and sticky fish god
Alright, awesome transferring to desktop fixed the issue. We established tumble guys! No need to worry anymore, pack it up. (Context)
Anyway-
warmth and contentment, ohhh how evil, oh nooooo… simon, watch out!!!!
bounced on it too hard, cosmic partner turned into goop. hel p
but yeah i do agree, intimacy like this with something that defies all human norms can go literally every way, mental, physical, deeper into the soul, take them apart cell by cell, atom by atom and put them back together. it is so exciting!!!! aauauhfgughh
Uh d-rook...
D-rook???
Your bouncin on it broke my mobile tumblr askbox.
IT WONT LET ME REPLY ITS JUST ECHOING ETERNALLY WHAT IN THE HORNY LOVECRAFTIAN FUCK IS THIS???
Uh oh... sorry bounced on your ask box too hard i wont do it again... sighhhhh 😓😓😓 embarrassing
tumblr isnt giving me enough dopamine cmonnnn sluts look at my posts. say words under my posts
Add more Rats. Slut.
He's so cute
♥︎ Baby Fever ♥︎
Synopsis: Between the cleanup shifts and late-night cuddles, your husband finds himself dreaming about something messier than the Abyss itself: parenthood.
Feat:Enjin, Tamsy, Corvus, Gris x wife!afab!reader (individual)
Content: breeding (duh), unprotected sex, dirty talk (enjin has a vulgar mouth hehe), mating press, rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, sweet husband!gris, size kink, terms of endearment (angel, darling, sweetheart, etc),
Materlist — here Word count: 3k (average 700 each)
♥︎ —Enjin
He swore he didn’t want kids.
Excluding the fact that they were extremely needy and messy, Enjin could list off a multitude of reasons why having kids on the Ground was a bad idea. He was always careful to use a condom or to pull out when one wasn’t available. Especially when you had a few pregnancy scares (an expensive trip to Alice’s only confirmed you were just late due to stress or diet).
However, something slowly changed that Enjin couldn’t quite registered. It started with your attention towards Rudo. You were always so patient with him, attentive to his moods yet caring in how your approached him. It was like watching the walls the younger boy had put up come undone before Enjin’s eyes, and with that, the seed of doubt had started to sow its roots, wondering. What would you be like as a mother?
Could he really imagine a little you or him running around cleaner HQ? What features of his would they inherit? Would Enjin even be a good dad to begin with? Living on the Ground was not the most ideal place to raise a child given all the dangers it posed, but at the same time, the idea of completing his family with you didn’t sound too awful.
The thought continued to eat at him more and the more he imagined it—how your belly would swell with his child, your breasts heavy with milk, or the way your hips would seem full—the more the thought inevitably turned him on.
୨୧ asking the gachiakuta men for a kiss
♡ featuring. enjin, zanka, tamsy, gris, jabber, follo
Enjin
He’s pacing, coiled tight, still annoyed by something you said earlier, giving you that sharp, silent treatment he thinks is subtle.
You tug lightly at his sleeve. “…Kiss ?” Just one tiny word.
He freezes. His head tilts toward you like you just punched the air out of his lungs. “…Seriously ?” he mutters, voice low, raw, but he’s already stepping closer. “You’re gonna ask me that. Right now.” You nod, small, shy.
His composure snaps — he grips your jaw gently, thumb brushing your cheek as he pulls you in with a frustrated exhale. “You’re impossible,” he whispers against your lips, moments before kissing you slow, deep, like he’s finally melting.
And just like that, the argument disappears. He can’t stay mad at you — not when you ask for him like that.
Zanka
He’s focused, meticulously cleaning his lovely assistaff for the fourth time, pretending he’s not ignoring you.
You whisper, barely audible over the faint shing of metal: “…Can I have a kiss ?”
Zanka drops the cloth like it burned him. His ears turn bright pink — his whole posture softens, instantly yielding. “I— yes. Of course. Come here.”
He steps toward you so carefully, as if he’s scared to do it wrong. He cups your face with gentle, warm hands, eyes flicking between your lips and your gaze, a visible struggle. His kiss is feather-light, almost shy, but you feel his breath tremble against your skin.
“…Sorry,” he murmurs, his voice a soft apology. “I didn’t mean to ignore you.” He kisses you again, just a bit firmer this time. He’s yours the moment you ask.
Tamsy
He’s sprawled across your bed, one arm tucked under his head, the other lazily draped over the blankets. Sunlight filters through the curtains, painting soft, sleepy patterns across the sheets.
You crawl in beside him, nudging his side gently. “Tamsy…?”
“You need something, my love ?” He shifts immediately, pulling you against him, his arms wrapping snugly and possessively around your waist. You lean closer, breath warm against his ear, whispering, “Kiss ?”
He freezes for a heartbeat, that familiar, utterly mischievous grin spreading slow across his face. “A kiss, hm? ”
His fingers brush your jaw lightly, tilting your face up to his. “Darling… you didn’t even need to ask.” The kiss is slow, soft, and teasing, a promise of more. When he pulls back, that smirk lingers, warm and playful, daring you to stay in his arms forever.
Gris
He’s just sitting there, legs slightly apart, hands resting open on his thighs, radiating a deep, unshakeable calm.
You step in front of him, a little hesitant, arms clasped behind your back, and whisper: “…Kiss me ?”
For a fraction of a second, his eyes widen — a flash of surprise — then a profound, soft smile spreads across his face. “Of course,” he says simply, his voice low but steady.
He reaches for you, guiding you gently between his legs, settling you comfortably on his lap. His hands rest on your hips, firm yet gentle, keeping you close. He leans in slowly, and when his lips meet yours, the kiss is deep, grounding, and absolute.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and he murmurs, a hint of amusement and awe in his voice: “You always know exactly how to get me, don’t you ?”
Jabber
He’s adjusting his rings, posture loose but restlessly energetic, that leftover fight-high buzzing under his skin.
You step close and murmur, “…Kiss ?” and his hands still instantly. His grin spreads slow, sharp, amused — like you just offered him something far more thrilling than simple affection.
He steps into your space, closing the gap, his thumb dragging sensually across your lower lip, deliberately smudging it as he studies your reaction. “Asking me like that… you really don’t know what you’re doing to me, dollface,” he murmurs, voice low and excited.
His kiss comes sudden and intense, holding back just enough not to overwhelm, just enough to make your pulse jump. When he pulls back, he brushes your lips with his thumb again, his smile tilting in predatory pleasure. “Do it again ma,” he says softly. “I like it.”
Follo
He’s in the middle of something, totally lost in his thoughts and humming under his breath as you poke his shoulder.
“Follo… kiss ?”
He blinks. Once. Twice. Then he beams, a sudden burst of sunlight. “A kiss ? For me ?”
He drops everything instantly — whatever he was holding clatters softly — and hugs you so tightly you lift off the ground for a second, a squeak escaping your lips. Then he gives you the softest, happiest kiss, his hands cupping your cheeks with pure, unadulterated affection. “I’ll never say no,” he says with a flushed, genuine smile. “You can interrupt me anytime.”
© dollysveil ♡
masterlist
pickles endless hunger and greed
Let's get a zoom on the bottomless pit.
❝ HIS CINDERELLA CAUSE I MAKE IT FIT ! ❞ ⤷ Enjin x Fallen Spherite!Reader
>>>>>> Apparently Enjin has all the 'luck' when it comes to finding Spherites in No Man's Land. This time he's found you—a stuck-up Spherite noble—cast out with the trash. You're prissy, needy and an overall pain in his ass. Definitely not his type—but that slutty pussy sure is. ♡
>>>>>> 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢 𝟏𝟖+ for filthy enjin smut. enjin & reader are delulu & down bad. big dick!enjin. size queen!reader. bimbo!reader. sex under the influence. public sex. breeding. bjs. enjin is overall diabolical. but there's also a bit of plot too with some romance/fluff/humor. no spoilers for anime/manga. >>>>>> 𝐰𝐜: 13.1k
𝐚𝐧: major special shoutouts to @honeybunnnnie my trash daddy partner in crime, who beta'd for me and gave me lots of good lil' gems I incorporated here. we share one horny brain cell when it comes to this man and the amount of headcanons we have made based on this that I didn't even include is INSANE lmfao.
You aren’t Enjin’s type.
That much is certain the moment he stumbles upon you after being called to check out a disturbance in No Man’s Land. Scanning the terrain of garbage, Enjin wonders if he’s hallucinating.
Still high from the night before—or maybe there’s a leak in his full face?
Either way he had to be tripping absolute balls right now because what the hell else could explain the giant kaiju-like plushie with bunny ears, wide beady eyes, and jagged teeth ripping apart trash beasts in the distance like they were wet paper towels?
✄------NOT FIRST BUT NEVER LAST [PART 4]
-----------summary: You're Enjins best friend who helps him get together with his dream girl. Too bad that this girl isn't you.
----- tags: enjin x reader x tamsy, angst, female reader, one-sided feelings, slight ooc enjin for this, graphic mentions of injures and blood
part 1 / part 2 / part 3
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
The next week turned into a quiet, relentless competition, one that only existed inside Enjin’s head but he wouldn't admit it.
Child of Palulukan
So! I'm absolutely in love with So'lek at the moment and wanted to write something. I don’t know if i'll do much more as i have several fics for another fandom that i don’t wish to lose interest in. If i post more then i do if i don’t i'm sorry. I hope you guys like the concept at least. 💚 let me know. Comments and likes are every fanfic writer’s fuel after all!
So’lek x Sarentu!reader
ingyentism (n.) — mystery, enigma
your body washed up on the beach, unconcious, scarred, tangled in algae and… different than any other na’vi seen by metkayina clan. questions are left without any answer, when your eyes finally open, but not a single memory occurs in your mind. without a name, without any familiar face around you, you need to learn how to navigate your new life, connect with new poeple and discover where did you came from.
reader x various avatar characters
masterlist
warning: brief description of panic attack
chapter ii: out.
silence was the only thing everyone around you got in answer. whatever was in eywa’s plans, you weren’t voicing it.
ronal’s patience run out shortly after first question. the feeling in her gut wasn’t getting any lighter, your lack of response solidifying the feeling towards you. what were you hiding? what secrets were you guarding that you couldn’t even grace her with your name? she wasn’t used to hearing ‘no’ and even more she wasn’t used to someone ignoring her presence.
truth was, you weren’t ignoring it, not on purpose. you were dissociative for the time that felt like forever, hearing questions thrown at you and not knowing the answer was putting you in state of constant panic that was blurring your vision, caused ringing in your ears and heat running through your veins.
tonowari’s approach was more gentle at first, but the longer he had to wait for any sound from you, the more he believed his mate that you could be a mystery that shouldn’t be solved on their ground.
tsireya stayed in the pod with you longer than any of them, still tending to your wounds, even when her mother was giving her judging looks.
how could they think you were dangerous, when your eyes were full of such sadness the words couldn’t even describe? tsireya wanted to comfort you in any way that was possible to her, so she often brought you food, soups that helped you heal. she had to feed you, because taking the restrains off your hands wasn’t even a conversation she wanted to start with her parents.
you could feel with passing days getting some of your strenght back, but with lack of movement it was worth nothing.
ao’nung was keeping eye on tsireya, he wasn’t necessarily on board with his mother making you an enemy to their clan, but he still preffered to be somewhere around whenever his sister was about to stay one on one with you.
this lead him to peek his head into the pod you were staying in quite often. sometimes he was right and tsireya was sitting next to you, talking, telling you things with hope that it would help you open up, he could see some days that you were listening, but other days you had this empty look on your face that made him stop for a moment.
what was the ending of this? would you finally speak up and they would let you out? where would you go? would the truth you were holding lead to never letting you go or… never letting you leave alive?
your eyes connected, when he was standing in the door, thinking about every possibility. this was one of the days when you seemed present enough that words would get to you. there was some awareness in your golden eyes. his mother said that forest na’vi were known to have yellowish eyes, but she was sure you weren’t one of them.
“can you even speak?” he asked with a scoff. you were just wasting everybody’s time.
you looked into his eyes with such hurt in your own as an answer, he couldn’t keep looking at you.
he turned around, ready to leave, but something caught his ears.
“i can,” you sighed out.
this was the first time you heard a question you could answer and something in your brain pushed you enough to act, instead of running back into your mind with a panic that it was in fact, the only question you could answer.
ao’nung’s head whipped around, wanting to catch your lips still moving to make sure that he wasn’t just imaginig it. he stood still for a second, before making his way to you.
“now you can?” he huffed, standing over you. you were sure that even if you weren’t on the ground and tied, you would feel intimidated by his form. were you always this scared? was that the kind of person you were? or were the conditions of the situation making your body feel constantly on edge?
ao’nung watched your eyes get foggy again and he couldn’t let it happen. it was the most they all got from you in over a week since you washed up on a beach. the satisfaction he felt that it was him you answered to also played a role. he knew that he would rub it in tsireya’s face so much she’ll smack him.
“you made a step, don’t take that back,” he said, slowly kneeling down on the ground next to you. “i’m ao’nung,” he tried to offer.
if he only knew that was the worst thing he could do to you.
you couldn’t give him anything in return.
one shaky breath turned into whimper, you sniffled once and you couldn’t even think straight, turning into a mess with tears spilling down your temples. in a matter of seconds, you started to choke on your breath and laying down only made it harder to let air back inside your lungs.
oh, his mother was going to be so mad.
ao’nung picked a knife he was carrying with him at all times, before his mind could flash with disappointed look his mother always gave him whenever he did something against her wishes. with two precise moves, he cut the vines binding you and hoisted you up to sit.
he was always bad with reacting to people crying, usually he made fun of them, especially when it was tsireya and in this moment any move seemed bad. he debated if he should step back or stay close.
was his name that terrible for you to end up in such state?
“it’s alright,” he said awkwardly, patting you on the back, as you cried.
ao’nung heard from people who saw his father carrying you to the marui that your skin was like midnight sky, such a deep shade of blue and now he could see this especially, when tears were running down your face, caught in sun trying to break into the pod.
he hated to admit that, but he wished tsireya was here, she would’ve know what to do you. one time he truly wanted her to waste her time sitting close to you, and she wasn’t there… he had to think like her.
“fresh air will help you,” he said, catching your elbows and slowly standing up. your body followed him, your legs were wobbly, hips felt weak, but you couldn’t stop him from leading you out. “easy,” he hummed, putting an arm around you, when he felt how pliable you were in his hands.
tsireya said countless time to him that she wished you to step outside for a moment, maybe some shining on your face could help you as much as it was helping her everyday.
he lead you outside, just few steps in front of marui, and watched. he saw your skin glisten in the sunlight and bright markings almost come alive. your eyes were closed, but your face could say it all, how much you needed to feel breeze and warmth of the weather.
“better?” he asked quietly, holding you still.
soft hum left your lips as you let the sun dry away your tears.
whatever that was, you felt first touch of familiarity ever since you woke up.
#mistytalks i didn’t expect so many people liking this story so quickly… i’m kind of new to posting on tumblr (wattpad was my bread and butter when i was writing things some time ago and it took a long time before people really started reading it) anyway! i’m really excited to see where the story leads us!! leave a comment if you want to be tagged in next parts :3
tags: @herdarlin, @zhongchithoughts, @darktrashpoetry
2:47 of So'lek's hot ass voice
POLLEN FEVER — ONESHOT SFW (So’lek x Fem Tamptey)
Word count : 8.3k
Summary : While scavenging an overgrown RDA facility, Tamptey is accidentally exposed to something. Hours later, its delayed effects take hold, overwhelming her instincts and leaving her disoriented, territorial, and dangerously focused on So’lek in full view of the camp.
Author’s note : Hey guys! This is the “sweet treat” I talked about. It was originally just a personal little indulgence that I never planned to post, but since I’m back… I decided to share it anyway. Fair warning: I wrote this mostly for shits and giggles, so don’t expect a super plot-heavy masterpiece (i might reuse this plot for a 18+ one of these days, idk). Also this takes place somewhere between my series “Age Gap” and “Ash Grey” so Tamptey is Fem and they are romantically involved.
Warnings : non-consensual intoxication, impaired judgment, territorial behavior, medical restraint, emotional vulnerability, clinging, emotional neediness, a bit unhinged behaviours
As always, happy reading.
Picnics, and Other Activities (So'lek x reader)
warnings: so'lek fucks u good and hard. maybe possessive? i'm so fr i'm not sure what i should warn you of. warning, you'll need a change of pants cuz ur gonna nut ur pants fr fr. sorry, i'm delusional i'm rly rly tired. who cares about being up early for school i have smut to write. anyways, so'lek x human!reader. READER IS GN (or supposed to be, so please tell me how i did because i don't write gn often.)not proofread, i'm tired.
Wind whips past your hand. You twist and turn it in the air like one might when resting their arm out a car window. Only difference is the beast beneath you is certainly not a car, and the wind is much stronger up here. You risk a glance to the earth, pandora?, below but quickly tuck your face back into So'lek's back when you spot how far down the ground really is.
The canopy is probably fifty feet below Iley, and the ground several hundred feet below that. Let's not think about that. Think about the na'vi in front of you, and that he's finally decided to take you on a proper date! After you explained human dating customs he insisted on bringing you on a date. Originally, you were a bit suspicious. Na'vi didn't approach courting the same as humans. However, Priya had practically shoved you out of the base, demanding her hard work doesn't go to waste. At least you get to spend time with him, even if the date turns out horribly stilted. Anxiety is sinking its claws into you. Every way this could possibly go wrong running through your mind at once.
You hug around So'lek's waist a little tighter. Squeezing him to get rid of those awful thoughts. He chuckles, and drops one hand to his waist to intertwine your fingers. Iley slows, flaring his wings and gliding down to a ledge on the cliff face. When you peak around So'lek you spot a pool of water shaded by the wide limbs of a tree. Is this the date spot, then?
So'lek guides Iley to a dry spot just to the right of the pool. The water ripples lightly in response to his landing. A cool breeze stirs the leaves and lush grass bringing with it a new wave of freshness signature to Pandora. So'lek offers a hand and helps you down from Iley. As soon as you're on the ground you notice a cave entrance carved into the rock. You're pulled to it by your hand, picking your way around the large but shallow pool. Naturally, it's darker in the cave, and you stick yourself to So'lek side, worried around tripping in the dark.
There's a dim glow up ahead, but So'lek pulls you to a stop then into his arms. "Close your eyes, yawne." You giggle, but do as he says, holding onto the new chest plate he'd donned for your date night. A dull roaring echoes through the cave, and as So'lek walks it grows louder and louder until you recognize it as a waterfall. Or several, maybe. With anyone else you may have demanded to be set down then, more certain in your own abilities and unwilling to trust yourself to someone else. So'lek is different though, capable in ways other na'vi were not. He doesn't brag, rather he holds a quiet confidence in his ability. The realism is reassuring, and you relax in his hold, listening hard to get any clues about where you'd heading.
The crystal under So'lek's feet offers little traction and he tests each step before entrusting himself, and more importantly you to it. A bolt of nerves runs through him. He isn't good with humans things, technology or otherwise. How come he's become almost irreparably linked with them? The armor he wears, the metal knife he now carries, the guns he's learned to wield with deadly efficiency, the human things in his camp, and finally, the tiny human he's decided is his mate. Great mother, how did he get here?
He crosses two large crystals, and sighs feeling the soft moss on the small island in the center of the cavern. A large karst window breaks way to the sky outside, bright clear sun streams into the lofty stone room. Entranced for a moment he almost forgets to let you down, chuckles before setting you upright.
"Open your eyes."
As soon as you do, your mouth falls open too, stunned by the beauty around you. Several waterfalls stream from the cavern walls, pouring into a stream that surrounds the little island you're on. Lush vegetation surrounds you, similar to most of Pandora. Not so similar are the large blue crystals jutting from the cavern walls in clumps. They glow with an otherworldly light, so large you doubt you could wrap your arms around even the smallest. The largest probably twice as thick as So'lek is tall. You stand in place, spinning with your mouth open trying to look everywhere at once.
So'lek chuckles, breaking you out of your trance and strides past you to the middle of the small island, settling himself in the moss and patting a spot beside him. You hurry after him with a stupid little grin on your face, "This place is incredible! How did you find it?"
"The crying grotto has been known to the people for quite some time. It is not frequented as much now. When I first traveled here one of the Aranahe warned me of its effects on the ikran." While he's talking he pulls several baskets in front of you. One is filled with some of the few human-safe foods on Pandora. Another holds a blanket and a dubious looking bottle of wine.
You snicker, "How did you get wine?" Your mouth waters, you haven't had anything that could be considered a good drink since you joined the resistance. Just plain, ultra-filtered water or questionable tasting electrolyte packets.
"Priya helped me with some of the human things." To your surprise he also pulls out two wine glasses, and pours you a glass. Instead of pouring himself one he sniffs the wine suspiciously, tail flicking high in the air behind him. When you offer your glass he takes a small sip, and wrinkles his nose up at the taste.
After you finish laughing you smile, "More for me then, hm?"
He scoffs, but pulls you into his lap, and leans back on an arm so you can recline. It's another na'vi thing, someone had explained, to keep you comfortable and off the ground. You sigh and lean back on him with a little smile while taking a sip of the cheap wine. So'lek hooks a finger into the food basket and drags it closer. He pulls out a tightly wrapped leaf bundle and tugs on the strings holding it together. Inside is diced fortune fruit protected in it's leathery peel. One of the few Pandoran fruits you can eat without dying a horrible death.
The two of you stay like that for hours, letting So'lek feed you entirely too much food, drinking the rare wine and talking endlessly. A few times So'lek shifts to stretch his legs, and you're struck by the size difference between the two of you. While standing you're eye-level with his crotch. Very convenient, but still a reminder of just how alien each is to the other. Still, So'lek does not seem to mind that you've none of the alure of a na'vi woman. You do not have the same lithe grace, nor would you be any good at defending him. You can't even breathe his air, but he is as enamored with you as any na'vi is with their mate.
It's an ego boost, you won't deny it. So'lek is, for lack of better words, smoking hot, and he has no shortage of women throwing themselves at him. Pride blooms in you whenever he denies them, pointing to you. You lean your head back against him, staring up at his serious expression. When he speaks you feel more than hear his voice, "Something on your mind?"
"Just thinking about how lucky I am. And how handsome you are." He hums deep in his chest, brushing the tips of his fingers over your thigh. You set down your glass, leaning into his touch, already eager for what's to come.
So'lek doesn't indulge you just yet, instead running his fingertips up and down your legs, over your chest, up your neck. Soft, gentle touches that feel less like desire and more reassurance. Reassuring you that you're wanted, or himself that you're still here, alive and well. You sigh and melt back into his arms.
Slowly, ever so slowly, his touch becomes more heated. You ease your legs open, and he traces up from your knee, sending shivers through you. Finally, unable to wait any longer, you turn to face him, straddling his lap. He meets your gaze with a smirk, "Impatient as always, tawtute."
"I'm not impatient, So'lek, you're just a tease." He doesn't answer you, except to laugh and knead at your thighs. At your warning growl he moves his hands higher, and brushes one finger over your covered entrance. God, he'll be the death of you. You huff, and push away from him before stripping completely.
He laughs at this, teasing, "Where is your human modesty?" Though, he doesn't complain when you straddle him again, standing up on your knees so you can kiss him, pulling your mask away then quickly replacing it. One of his hands leaves you, and when you lean back and spot him tugging at the knots of his tewng.
"Who's impatient now?" You knock his hand away and hold his face in your hands, "I've got a better idea for those hands." When you press your hand to his chest he lays back, watching you intently. It's addictive, commanding someone like him. You shuffle up to straddle his face instead, he pulls you to sit eagerly.
You shift his kuru out of the way, giving it a gentle squeeze. So'lek growls in response, and you feel his hips flexing without looking back. Where technique is involved he's average, but the thrill of his size, and more importantly that it's him, has you ruined for anyone else. Na'vi tongues are also proportionally longer on top of that and that is especially noticeable in moments like these. He's reaching parts of you that make you scream, double over and grab as his hair for leverage to grind into him. "F-fuck, So'lek, please."
Big hands grab your hips, and pry you off his face, ignoring your whining sob at the loss of his tongue. Instead, he slips two fingers into you easily and laughs when you grind down on them. It's a stretch, everything is with him, but you can't stop yourself trying to work them deeper into you. It doesn't help that whenever you sink down on them you're close enough for So'lek to lick at you. He curls his fingers inside you, searching for something, and you can only sob when it makes the stretch that much more intense. Eventually, he finds it and you shriek as pleasure shoots through you. Entirely too much and not nearly enough at the same time.
So'lek, ever the hunter, is not one to withdraw with his prize so near. He drags you forward by the fingers inside you and redoubles his efforts, fucking two fingers into with a lewd sound. When you let out a few little pants and stutter out a 'close', he curls his fingers, turns and bites your inner thigh. The snap of pain sends you off the edge and you curl over his head, panting as your body shudders around him. The fingers inside you slow, but don't stop until you reach behind you and clumsily wave away his hand.
When he gives a little push to your hips you shift back down to his waist, and lower yourself to lay on his chest. He pets your back and sides while you catch your breath, clenching around nothing. After a bit he moves his hand to the nape of your neck, where a na'vi's kuru would be. It's a sore subject for him. Despite the fact he bound himself to you, you couldn't do the same for him. Couldn't connect with a tree of souls and claim him in the light of Eywa.
The worst of it is you can't do anything to change it. Nothing except show him just how much you love him in the ways you can. That includes finally untying his tewng, much to his relief. As soon as the cloth falls away he's hard against his stomach, and at you laugh he mutters, "You've finished once already. I have a right."
"Mm, you're right. That doesn't seem fair at all." You kneel between his thighs, tracing your fingers up the insides of his thighs like he did you. He's pretty here, but in all fairness you think he's pretty everywhere. A line of tahni decorate his skin, a pale blue with light stripes. They flow in a line all the way up to his pelvis and you smile as you trace first with your fingers then tongue. So'lek cusses, digging his hands into the moss at his sides. He doesn't try to move though, submitting himself to your affection.
Throughout your teasing his muscles twitch and shudder, he's seemingly incapable of truly staying still. Finally you reach his pelvis and kiss the crease between his thigh and hips. His cock twitches, desperate for affection and you respond with an evil little chuckle. So'lek, again, cusses under his breath then mutters, "I thought you were supposed to be less evil than the rest of the tawtute."
"Not less evil, adjacently evil." He furrows his brows at that, and doesn't see you moving to the tip of his dick. Quickly, you wrap your lips around the head and suck, trying to work more of him into your mouth. The effect is instantaneous, he lets out a strangled shriek and arches like a bow at full draw. His tail whips ferociously at the ground and he tears up a clump of the moss in one hand.
Surprisingly though, he doesn't finish, only growls at your little game, "You'll regret that, vrrtep."
No, actually, you don't think you will. Giggling wildly you leap up and dart away from him. It's a foolish plan, really, in no world could you ever outrun So'lek. Still, you try, because the thrill of him catching you is worth more than the pride of escaping. So'lek catches up to you in just a few steps, as you expected. When he tackles you he turns so you land on him. His vicious hissing only makes you more excited. The idea that his mate tried to escape him only drives him to be more possessive.
He rolls the both of you over and pins you with your face in the moss. One of his hand wraps around both of your wrists and traps them behind your back. With an annoyed huff he leans down and growls in your ear, "Do you know what you do to me? Running from me?" You giggle again, you know exactly what this does to him, but you're cut off when he continues, "Should make sure you can't do that again. I'll fuck you until you can do nothing but beg for more."
Grinning you arch your back up for him. You're moaning as soon as his thick tip presses against you. Desperately, you try to push back, welcome him into your warmth. So'lek doesn't allow it. Instead, he keeps one hand on your hips, holding you in place. "God, please, So'lek. So'lek."
The male huffs behind you, "Keep saying my name, vrrtep." Satisfied when you do as he demands, begging him over and over to fuck you. After an eternity, he folds to your demands and starts pressing in. He's rougher now that you riled him up, and ignores your pathetic squirming as he thrusts in and in and in. It feels never-ending, like he's hollowing a place inside you, making you the perfect sheath for him. When he finally stops you feel his hips brushing against your ass. He actually managed to bully the entire thing into you.
The stretch is intense, and you sob from the feeling of it all. So'lek doesn't give you any mercy. He grinds into you as if he's trying to push even deeper and taunts, "What is wrong, tawtute, you seemed happy enough to provoke me. These are the consequences." So'lek punctuates his statement with another deep grind.
When he finally pulls back it feels like he's left you hollow, until he thrusts back in to stretch you again. So'lek laughs at your pitiful little whimpers, and sets his pace. Not especially fast, but devastingly deep and completely inescapable. As soon as he's got a rhythm he drops his hold on your hips and instead leans over you, bracing with an arm above his head. So'lek's presence is inescapable in every way, it seems, his scent, his deep groans and breathy huffs, his kuru dangly in your face, his chest pressed fully to your back, and the burning stretch of his cock.
As soon as he releases your arms you trail a hand down your front, intent on playing with yourself. Instead you're stopped at your belly, palm laid out flat. You can feel So'lek thrusting into you. Not just in your hole, but on your stomach a noticeable bulge pushes into your hand whenever he forces that monster into you. It's both incredibly arousing and a bit terrifying, and you're not entirely sure what to do about it. So you paw at So'lek's arm and, when he lets you, pull his hand under you to your stomach. "Ma yawne, what are you-"
There, he's felt it, that's him pressing through your body. To be sure he thrusts deep and stays there, holding his hand over that bulge in your stomach. How can your body hold him at all? He thrusts again, and the bulge moves with him. Clearly, despite your whining, your body can tolerate much, much more. He grins, and fucks into you harder, taunting you when you sob out a moan and try your best to press back into him. Still, he's so much stronger. You end up bracing yourself against the moss as best you can and holding on for the ride.
He must be close now, feeling just how much he's shaping you to him has driven him close to that edge. A thin sheen of sweat forms on the arm in front of you, and slicks the slide of skin on skin. He's panting deeply in your ear and growling. Sometimes words, how good you're being, how perfectly you stretch to fit him, how you're meant to take his cock. Sometimes it is just animalistic growling, the feeling of you clenching around him taking away his ability to speak.
A clumsy hand slides from its place on your stomach to pleasure you, and you're quickly brought to the edge too. His kuru swings tantalizingly in front of you. The hair forming his protective braid is glossy and black. You reach out one small hand, wrapping his kuru around it and feeling the silky hair run through your fingers. Smiling wickedly you tighten your grip and pull. So'lek howls, curling forward over you and hitting some deep, almost painful place inside you. The feel of him releasing in you, combined with his rough handling, drives you over the edge.
The both of you groan in unison, So'lek still emptying more cum into you, thrusting shallowly. You feel entirely relaxed, almost limp, under him. Enjoying the feeling of his release coating your walls. So'lek is panting. His forehead is damp when he bends to press it into your hair. Several minutes go by and So'lek doesn't move, keeping you still on his dick while he takes deep breaths of your scent. When his arms start shaking from the effort of holding himself up he wraps an arm around you waist and rolls onto his side. The whole while his dick stays snugly in your walls. Another na'vi thing, its supposed to ensure the male's seed takes. Not that it matters here, but the thought is an enticing one.
While you both lay in the quickly cooling evening air So'lek pets along your body, especially over your stomach now, and praises you endlessly. You sigh in contentment, snuggling back into his chest and pulling his arms tighter around you. So'lek noses at the top of your head, and kisses you there softly before relaxing to sleep.
"Successful date, I'd say. Goodnight, So'lek." You quip, looking up over your shoulder.
He peeks open one eye, and quirks a brow, "Of course, it was. You had doubts?" You giggle, and he kisses you again before laughing into your hair. "Goodnight, ma yawne."
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 the tainted.
pair: neteyam x fem!mangkwan!reader
warnings: kuru torture / mommy issues / being tied up / mentions of death / war
author: hey guys!! i really hope u like this one it took me forever to write like literally 3 hours of grinding with my takis next to me,,, while i was writing this i was worried people would think this was a filler chapter but i promise you everything that happens in this chapter is EXTREMELY pivotal to the plot! someone guessed what happens at the end in the last chapter lolll but HAPPY NEW YEARS GUYS!
wc: 6k
the poison, the poisoned, the tainted.
click here to be included in a taglist!
꣑ৎ 。°‧⭑.ᐟ
The pre-dawn light was a weak, grey smear against the perpetual haze of the Ash Nation, a reluctant guest in a world that knew only shadow. It filtered through the thick, choking veil of ash that never truly settled, clinging instead to the air as if the land itself refused to let go of its scars. The light did not feel earned here. It felt intrusive, exposing a place that had learned to survive without it.
It did not bring warmth, only a stark, unforgiving clarity that illuminated the grim reality of the day to come. Stone blackened by centuries of fire reflected that pale light dully, revealing deep fractures in the cavern walls and the uneven ground worn smooth by generations of bare feet and bloodshed. Everything looked harsher in the light, sharper, stripped of illusion.
The air, thick with the scent of sulfur and the metallic tang of fear, was cold enough to bite at the skin, a constant, biting reminder of the dying mountain that was their home. Each breath scraped down your throat, heavy and acrid, settling uncomfortably in your chest. Beneath the sulfur lingered the faint smell of smoke and old ash, a scent so familiar it barely registered anymore, even though it should have.
In the central cavern, a space carved from the living rock of the volcano’s throat, the atmosphere was suffocating. The ceiling loomed far above, jagged stone arching inward like ribs around a heart. Heat pulsed unevenly through the walls, subtle tremors passing beneath your feet, as if the mountain itself were restless.
Hundreds of warriors stood in grim formation, their bodies a sea of ashen skin and dark leather, their faces painted with the stark whites and blacks of war. The markings were sharp and deliberate, symbols of endurance, conquest, and survival etched across scarred faces. Many bore old wounds, pale lines crossing shoulders, arms, and chests, each one a story of a battle survived.
They moved with a quiet, lethal purpose, checking the straps on their armor, testing the edge of their obsidian blades, their movements a silent, synchronized ballet of impending violence. Fingers ran along blade edges. Leather creaked softly as armor was adjusted. Nightwraith riders murmured low sounds to their mounts tethered along the cavern’s edges, pressing foreheads to scaled hides, steadying both beast and rider.
The usual grumbles and boasts were absent, replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence that was more terrifying than any war cry. No laughter echoed through the stone. No one tried to mask their fear with bravado. Even the nightwraiths seemed to sense it, their movements subdued, their low breaths fogging faintly in the cold air.
You stood at the very front of this assembled force, your heart a cold, heavy stone in your chest, its weight pressing down on you with every breath you took. It felt as though it might drag you into the ground if you let it. Your hands rested at your sides, fingers curled tightly, nails biting into your palms beneath the leather.
These were your people.
They trusted you.
You had a duty to perform, a role to play, and you would play it to its devastating, heartbreaking conclusion.
You raised your voice, letting it carry over the tense silence, praying it sounded stronger than you felt. The sound echoed faintly against the stone, louder than you expected, making your chest tighten.
“The western flank is their weakest point,” you began, your voice echoing slightly in the vast space. You forced yourself to keep your tone even, authoritative. “Their scouts are lazy there, relying on the treeline for cover.”
A few warriors nodded. Others leaned forward, listening intently, eyes fixed on you.
“We will send the first wave there, a loud, aggressive charge to draw out their main force.” You paused only long enough to breathe. “Once they are committed, the second wave, led by me, will circle wide, through the ravine to the north, and hit them from the rear. It will be a hammer and anvil. We will crush them.”
The words settled over the cavern, heavy and final.
It was a perfect plan for an ambush, a plan that would lead to a massacre of your own people. Every detail had been considered. Every movement calculated.
It was also a beautiful, intricate lie.
The western flank was where the Omaticaya’s most seasoned hunters were waiting, hidden deep within the dense foliage, bows already drawn, breath held in patient silence. The ravine to the north was a dead end, its steep sides easily defensible, its narrow entrance a perfect bottleneck for slaughter.
You were committing treason with every word that left your lips, and the shame of it burned like acid in your throat. You swallowed hard, forcing the guilt down, forcing your voice to remain steady.
Just as you were about to give the signal to move, to seal the fate of hundreds, a chilling silence fell over the warriors.
It was sudden. Unnatural. As if the air itself had been sucked from the cavern.
Your breath caught.
You turned, a knot of dread tightening in your stomach, to see Varang striding towards you.
She moved with a predator’s grace, her steps silent and sure against the stone. There was a sharp, crazed light burning in her eyes, something fevered and unyielding that made your skin prickle. A smile, all teeth and no warmth, was stretched across her face, a grotesque mask of triumph that made your chest constrict.
She reached your side and placed a hand on your shoulder, the gesture seemingly maternal, almost gentle.
Her nails dug into your skin like claws.
“My daughter has a brilliant mind for strategy,” she announced, her voice dripping with a venomous sweetness that made your blood run cold.
The warriors stirred uneasily.
“But she will not be leading the war party today,” Varang continued, tightening her grip just enough for you to feel it. “I will.”
Varang’s hand remained on your shoulder for a beat longer than necessary.
The cavern held its breath.
You felt it in the way the warriors stiffened, in the way no one spoke, no one questioned her words. Authority settled over the space like a physical weight, crushing and absolute. Your pulse thundered in your ears, loud enough that you were sure others could hear it.
She stepped forward, finally removing her grip on you, and took the space that had been yours moments before. The shift was immediate. Eyes that had been fixed on you snapped to her instead. Backs straightened. Jaws set. Whatever confusion flickered through the ranks was quickly buried beneath obedience.
Varang raised her voice.
She laid out the plan.
Not the one you had given them. Not the lie. The true route. The narrow pass hidden beyond the lava fields. The timing that would slip them past the outer sentries. The precise moment they would strike, coordinated and ruthless. Every detail was sharp, deliberate, and terrifyingly effective.
She did not stumble. She did not hesitate.
Every word was correct.
Your stomach twisted as you listened, realization settling cold and heavy in your chest. She had seen through you. Through the careful phrasing, the intentional misdirection, the false confidence. She had known before you ever opened your mouth.
The warriors murmured their approval, low and controlled. Heads nodded. Weapons were lifted with renewed purpose. This was the plan they trusted. This was the plan that would work.
And it was no longer yours.
When she finished, Varang let the silence stretch just long enough to ensure it sank in. Then she dismissed them with a sharp command. The formation broke cleanly, warriors dispersing to prepare, their movements efficient and focused. Nightwraith handlers moved to untether their mounts. Blades were sheathed. Armor was tightened.
No one looked at you.
You stood where you were, rooted to the stone, your limbs heavy, useless. The cavern felt larger now, emptier, like something vital had been torn from its center.
Then you felt it.
Her grip closed around your arm, iron strong, fingers digging into muscle. The sudden contact made you flinch despite yourself.
Varang did not speak.
She turned and began to walk, dragging you with her without breaking stride. You stumbled to keep up, boots scraping against the stone as she pulled you away from the cavern and into one of the side tunnels. The sounds of preparation faded behind you, swallowed by the winding passageways of the mountain.
The tunnel narrowed as you went, the air growing cooler, damper. Torchlight flickered against the walls, throwing jagged shadows that danced and twisted with each step. Your heart hammered in your chest, dread coiling tighter with every pace.
You knew where she was taking you.
Your shared quarters lay deeper within the mountain, carved from the stone long ago. A place that was supposed to be private. Safe.
She shoved you inside and turned, sealing the entrance behind her with a heavy, final sound that echoed through the chamber.
For a moment, she simply stood there, her back to the door, shoulders rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. When she turned to face you, the expression she wore was no longer performative. No audience waited to be convinced.
It was raw.
Fury simmered just beneath the surface, sharp and volatile. Betrayal cut through it, clear and unmistakable.
“You thought you could deceive me,” she said quietly.
The softness of her voice was worse than a shout.
She took a step toward you.
Then another.
She stopped an arm’s length away from you, the torchlight catching in her eyes and turning them bright and unsteady. Up close, the strain in her jaw was impossible to miss, the tension in her shoulders pulled tight as if she were holding herself together by sheer force of will. This wasn’t the controlled fury she showed the clan. This was something rawer, something that had slipped its leash.
“You learned that from them,” Varang said. Her gaze raked over your face, lingering as though she were searching for something familiar and finding only absence. “The forest taught you how to lie. And you still choose them. They are evil.”
"They are not evil, mother!" You hiss, but her loud snarl makes you feel small.
Your mouth opened, but no sound came. Every truth felt like a blade turned inward, every lie pointless. Your thoughts tangled over one another, panic and guilt colliding until you couldn’t tell them apart.
She exhaled sharply and turned away, pacing once across the stone floor, her claws scraping faintly against the rock. When she faced you again, the decision had already been made. She reached for her blades.
The soft metallic sound of them sliding free sent a cold jolt through your body. You stepped back on instinct, your heel catching against the uneven floor. There was nowhere to go. The chamber felt smaller now, the air thick and suffocating. In a single swift motion, she closed the distance and seized your kuru, her grip bruising and possessive, winding into the thick neural braid with practiced ease. Pain flared instantly, sharp and disorienting, and you gasped, your hands flying up on reflex, only for her to twist it just enough to force you still.
She drew one blade up and laid it flat against your kuru. The cold of the metal against the delicate tendrils made your stomach lurch, every nerve in your body screaming danger.
“You are infected,” Varang hissed, her voice low and vibrating with barely restrained rage. “The forest has tainted you. Its softness. Its lies.”
Your breath hitched as tears burned at the corners of your eyes. You shook your head frantically, the movement making the blade shift just enough to remind you how close it was. “No,” you choked out. “Please. I just wanted to stop this. I just wanted them to live.”
Her grip tightened.
“I tried to make you strong!” she roared, the words tearing out of her chest. She lifted the blade, the edge hovering a breath away from your kuru. Your body began to tremble uncontrollably, a broken sound clawing its way out of your throat as the reality of it crashed over you—being severed, being cut off from Eywa, from everything you had come to understand, from him.
The blade trembled in her hand.
For a long, agonizing moment, nothing moved. The torch crackled softly, absurdly loud in the silence. Varang’s breathing was uneven now, her chest rising and falling too fast. Then a sound escaped her, not anger, not triumph, but something fractured and unrecognizable.
She lowered the blade.
“My own daughter,” she whispered, her voice raw, cracking under a weight you couldn’t name. “My own daughter has betrayed me.”
She released your kuru so suddenly you staggered forward, barely catching yourself. For a heartbeat, you thought she might strike you anyway. Instead, she turned away sharply, as if she couldn’t bear to look at you anymore. She didn’t speak again as she bound your wrists and ankles, her movements rough and efficient, stripped of any trace of care. Thick leather straps bit into your skin as she forced you down onto the cold stone floor, each knot pulled tight, deliberate, final.
It was a full-circle moment, a cruel echo of the Hallelujah Mountains, where you had once been tied and helpless, burning with defiance and hatred. Now, there was only grief, heavy and suffocating, settling into your chest as you lay there shaking, bound in your own home.
Varang stood over you for a moment longer before turning and leaving. The door slammed shut, the sound echoing like a sentence being passed. Alone on the floor, you listened as her voice carried through the stone walls, laying out the true route to the war party, the one that bypassed the defenses you had tried to protect.
“The forest is ours,” she cried. “We will take what is ours by blood and fire.”
꣑ৎ 。°‧⭑.ᐟ
Back in the Hallelujah Mountains, the air tasted of damp earth and blooming life, but there was no comfort in it. The Omaticaya homebase had become a hive of quiet urgency, the forest itself seeming to lean inward as its people prepared for a war they had never sought. Bioluminescent plants dimmed as warriors passed, their soft glow muted beneath hurried footsteps and low, murmured commands. Bows were restrung, blades sharpened, ikran fitted with harnesses and armor, every movement practiced and tense. The great spiraling structures of the village loomed overhead, usually alive with song and laughter, now heavy with anticipation and dread.
Neteyam sat alone in the cave, on the same worn chair where he had first met you, his elbows braced on his knees, his head bowed into his hands. The stone beneath his fingers felt cold, grounding in a way nothing else could manage. He was terrified. Terrified that you were angry, that your last look at him had been one of betrayal rather than understanding. Terrified that people would die on both sides because of his fear, because of the words he hadn’t trusted himself to say sooner. But more than anything, he was terrified that you hated him.
The thought lodged in his chest like a barbed arrow, a crushing pressure that made it hard to breathe, as if his heart itself were folding inward at the mere possibility. He knew it was wrong. He was of the forest and you were of the ash, and the kiss you had shared should never have happened. But it had, and it haunted him relentlessly. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, about the way your eyes had widened in awe beneath the Spirit Tree, about the way your lips had trembled against his, soft and uncertain and filled with a hope he had been too afraid to name.
“Neteyam.”
His father’s voice cut through the spiral of his thoughts, firm and unyielding. Jake stood at the entrance of the cave, his expression carved from equal parts command and concern. He had been you once, in a way. An outsider, torn between two worlds, human and Na’vi, duty and love. Jake knew exactly how deep that kind of fracture could cut, and he had no intention of watching his son bleed the same way.
“You can’t see her again, boy,” Jake said, stepping closer and resting a heavy hand on Neteyam’s shoulder. The gesture was meant to be grounding, reassuring, but it felt like a cage closing shut. “She’s the enemy. No matter how hard you try to pretend she isn’t.” His voice hardened on the last word. “She’s tainted.”
Neteyam’s jaw tightened. The word struck like a slap, echoing too closely to his own darkest fears, but he swallowed the retort that burned on his tongue. He stared down at his feet instead, his hands curling into fists as he forced himself to remain silent. Angering his father now would help no one.
Soon after, the Omaticaya took to the skies.
Ikans lifted in silent waves, their wings cutting through the thin mountain air as they circled the region the Ash People were expected to attack from. Their bright, iridescent hides were a sharp contrast against the grey stone and mist, flashes of color moving with predatory grace. Neteyam hovered among them, his eyes fixed on the horizon, on the dark smoldering lands beyond the treeline. The wind whipped at his face and braids, cold and biting, but he barely registered it. Minutes stretched, then longer, the silence growing heavier with every passing breath. Too heavy. Too wrong.
A chill crawled up his spine.
His eyes widened as he turned, the instinct screaming in his bones just a heartbeat before he saw them. Blazing arrows arced through the sky, their cloth-wrapped tips aflame, streaking toward them from an entirely different direction than planned. From behind.
“AMBUSH!” Neteyam yelled, his voice raw as he ducked his ikran sharply downward, the world tilting violently as fire hissed past where he had been moments before.
The sky erupted.
The battle roared to life in a deafening cacophony of screeching ikran, clashing blades, and shouts torn loose by panic and fury. Neteyam moved on instinct alone, leaping from his ikran onto the back of an Ash warrior’s nightwraith, the unfamiliar leathery hide slick beneath his hands. He fought the rider off with brutal efficiency, his skinnife finding its mark before he launched himself back into the air, his ikran catching him mid-fall. Over and over, he searched the chaos for you, for any sign that his fear had already come true, for a flash of familiar braids or the shape of your silhouette.
You weren’t there.
Instead, he saw Lew’eyn.
The sight made his blood run cold. Lew’eyn was perched on his nightwraith, bow drawn, loosing arrows into the fray, but not at the Omaticaya. He was shooting down Ash warriors from behind, striking his own people to save the forest. Something was horribly wrong.
Neteyam didn’t hesitate. He dove, landing hard on Lew’eyn’s mount, the impact nearly sending them both tumbling. Lew’eyn spun with a hiss, blade raised, but froze when he recognized him, panic and relief warring across his face.
“Where is she?” Neteyam shouted, his tail lashing, his voice barely audible over the chaos.
Lew’eyn spoke quickly, breathless, words spilling over each other as he explained—how Varang had overheard, how she had taken command, how she had left you bound and helpless. Each word drove deeper into Neteyam’s chest, dread settling heavy and cold in his stomach. He didn’t wait for Lew’eyn to finish.
Without another word, he dove from the nightwraith, his ikran swooping beneath him to catch his fall. He urged the beast forward with a desperate cry, flying straight toward the Ash Nation’s territory, a streak of blue and orange against the ash-grey sky.
He wasn’t fast enough.
꣑ৎ 。°‧⭑.ᐟ
Neteyam landed hard in the Ash village, the ground trembling beneath his feet. The air was thick with sulfur, smoke, and fear, the shouts of the few remaining non-combatants echoing between scorched stone structures. He ran without slowing, straight for the burned-out stump of their old Hometree, the hollowed heart of a grief that never truly healed. Groans and cries for help echoed from within as he plunged inside.
You were there.
Bound in thick leather cuffs, thrashing weakly against the restraints, your face streaked with tears. The moment you saw him, a sob of relief tore from your chest, your entire body sagging as if the tension holding you upright finally snapped. Neteyam was at your side in an instant, adrenaline lending him strength as he broke the cuffs apart.
You surged up, words tumbling out of you in a rush, apologies spilling faster than you could catch them. You told him Varang must have overheard, told him how you had gone back to the Spirit Tree after he left, how you had felt Eywa, how her presence had wrapped around you like something vast and gentle and alive.
“You were right,” you breathed, your voice shaking. “She’s beautiful.”
A low growl sounded behind you.
Before either of you could react, Varang was there, a blade pressed to Neteyam’s kuru just as she had done to you. Your scream tore through the chamber as you froze, terrified to move, terrified that even a breath would make her cut him. Varang gave a mock pout, pulling Neteyam closer, her grip cruel and deliberate as she connected her kuru with his. The tendrils wrapped together, and Neteyam collapsed to his knees with a cry, pain ripping through him as the bond was forced open.
“Choose,” Varang snarled. “Your people. Your mother. Or him.”
Outside, the battle raged on, blood soaking into the forest floor as warriors fell on both sides. Slowly, the fighting began to fracture, the few remaining combatants retreating, battered and broken. Lew’eyn stood between them, shouting that this war was not the answer, but his words were swallowed by smoke and screams as he finally fled, his heart heavy with failure.
Varang’s blade never wavered.
The metal pressed so close to Neteyam’s kuru that you could see the faint shimmer of the tendrils beneath it, delicate and impossibly fragile against something designed only to destroy. Your chest felt too tight to draw a full breath, every inhale shallow and panicked, as if the air itself refused to enter you properly. Your hands curled uselessly at your sides, fingers trembling, the instinct to run to him screaming through your body even as fear rooted you in place.
Neteyam knelt on the stone floor, shoulders hunched, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the forced connection burned through him. His hands dug into the rock beneath him as if he could anchor himself to the ground, as if that alone might keep him from shattering. His face was twisted in pain, teeth clenched, a low sound caught somewhere between a growl and a sob tearing its way from his chest.
“Mother,” you whispered, your voice barely more than breath. Saying the word felt wrong and inevitable all at once, a lifetime of devotion and fear wrapped into a single sound. Your throat burned as you swallowed hard, eyes flicking from her face to the blade and back again. “Please.”
Varang tilted her head slightly, studying you the way one might study a wounded animal. Her eyes were bright, fevered, reflecting the torchlight in sharp, erratic flashes. There was triumph there, yes, but beneath it something far more dangerous—vindication. Proof, in her mind, that she had been right all along.
“You beg now,” she said quietly. “After everything you have done.”
Outside, the sounds of battle were beginning to thin, the roar fading into scattered clashes and distant cries. Smoke drifted through the broken openings in the stone, carrying the scent of blood and scorched earth. The war was bleeding out, warriors retreating not because they had won or lost, but because there was nothing left to give.
Your legs felt weak beneath you. Every memory seemed to press in at once—standing at Varang’s side as a child, watching her map out raids in ash and bone; kneeling in the Hallelujah Mountains, wrists bound, defiant and burning with hate; standing beneath the Spirit Tree, your heart cracking open as Eywa’s presence wrapped around you like something ancient and endlessly kind. All of it collided inside your chest, a storm of loyalty and love and grief so overwhelming it threatened to tear you apart.
Neteyam lifted his head just enough to look at you.
Even through the pain, his eyes searched your face, not with accusation, not with fear, but with something achingly gentle. Understanding. Acceptance. As if, whatever you chose, he already knew it would cost you everything.
That was what finally broke you.
A sob tore free before you could stop it, your vision blurring as tears spilled over. “I never wanted this,” you said, the words rushing out, desperate and raw. “I never wanted any of this. I just wanted it to stop. I wanted them to live. I wanted—” Your voice cracked completely, the rest of the sentence dissolving into a sound of pure anguish.
Varang’s grip tightened on Neteyam’s kuru, and he cried out sharply, his body folding in on itself as the pain surged anew.
“Enough,” she snapped. “This ends now.”
The blade shifted, just slightly.
Your heart slammed against your ribs, terror eclipsing everything else. You took a step forward without thinking, then another, hands raised in a futile, pleading gesture. “Don’t,” you begged. “Please don’t hurt him. I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever you ask.”
Her smile was slow and terrible.
“That,” she said softly, “is exactly what I am asking.”
The silence that followed was crushing. Even the mountain seemed to hold its breath, the air heavy and unmoving around you. Your mind raced, grasping at impossible solutions, at words that might undo what had already been done. There were none. There had never been.
You looked at Varang, really looked at her, and for the first time you saw not just your mother or your leader, but a woman hollowed out by war, by loss, by a belief so rigid it had left no room for mercy. You saw the fear beneath her fury—the terror of a world changing beyond her control, of a daughter slipping from her grasp into something she could neither understand nor dominate.
Then you looked at Neteyam.
You remembered the warmth of his hands, the softness of his voice when he spoke of the forest, the way his eyes had lit with wonder when he realized you were capable of gentleness. You remembered the Spirit Tree, the way Eywa’s presence had felt like truth itself settling into your bones.
Your choice burned in your chest, searing and inevitable.
Outside, the last of the warriors were retreating, the forest falling into a wounded, aching quiet. Smoke curled upward through the canopy, carrying with it the echoes of screams and shattered vows. Lew’eyn was already gone, fleeing home with the weight of a war that should never have been fought pressing down on his shoulders.
Inside the ruined heart of the Ash village, Varang leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper meant only for you.
“Go on,” she said. “Choose.”
Your breath shook as you opened your mouth.
And the world seemed to tilt, everything you had ever been and everything you might still become hanging on the next word you spoke.
Your hands were shaking.
You hated that Varang could see it. Hated that your body betrayed you even now, even after everything you had already lost. Your fingers trembled at your sides, nails biting into your palms as if pain might anchor you, might keep you from splintering apart under the weight of what she was asking of you.
Your mother stood so close you could smell the familiar smoke clinging to her skin, the same scent that had followed her through every moment of your childhood. Her blade was still poised at Neteyam’s kuru, the edge gleaming cruelly in the torchlight, so near that it felt like a held breath stretched far too long. Neteyam knelt before her, shoulders tight, his body still recovering from the forced connection, chest rising and falling unevenly as he fought for air.
When he looked at you, it was not with fear.
That shattered you.
There was pain in his eyes, yes, and exhaustion, but beneath it was something far worse. Trust. A quiet, devastating certainty that whatever you chose, he would accept it. That you would not be cruel enough to let him suffer without reason. That you were still you.
Your throat closed.
Every memory of your mother crashed into you all at once. Her voice when you were young, sharp but proud. Her hands guiding yours when you first learned to hold a blade. The nights she sat beside you after raids, silent but present, her approval something you learned to crave even when it came wrapped in violence. She had shaped you, honed you, turned you into a weapon for a world that demanded blood. For so long, you had believed that was love.
And then there was the forest.
Eywa’s presence had not demanded anything of you. She had not asked you to prove yourself through suffering. She had simply been. Open. Vast. Gentle in a way that had undone you completely. And Neteyam, standing at the threshold between those worlds, had shown you that softness was not weakness. That choosing life did not mean abandoning strength.
Your breath hitched.
Your fingers brushed against the shaft of an arrow at your hip.
The movement was instinctive, almost unconscious, driven by something older than fear. Varang noticed immediately. Her eyes flicked downward, then snapped back to your face, sharp and assessing. Slowly, her lips curled upward, the beginnings of a smile spreading across her features.
“Oh?” she murmured, amusement threading her voice. “Is that how this ends?”
Her tone made your stomach twist. She thought she knew you. Thought this was another test she had already won.
You did not answer her.
Your hand closed fully around the arrow, grounding yourself in its familiar weight. You lifted it free, every motion deliberate, your mind screaming even as your body moved with lethal precision. You nocked the arrow and raised your bow, the wood pressing solidly against your palm. When you drew the string back, the tension sang through your arms, steady and true, just as she had trained you.
The arrowhead aligned with Varang’s skull.
For a heartbeat, the world went silent.
Then she laughed.
It was not warm. It was not amused. It was sharp and jagged, a sound that scraped against the stone walls and echoed back at you in fractured pieces. She threw her head back, laughter spilling from her in a wild, unhinged cackle that made your skin crawl. To her, this was still a game. A performance. Proof that you were reaching for threats you could never follow through on.
“You think you could do it?” she taunted, eyes gleaming as she looked back at you. “You think you have it in you to kill your own mother?”
Your vision blurred.
Tears welled despite your best efforts, streaking down your cheeks, but your arms did not waver. You tightened your grip. Drew the string back another fraction. Your muscles burned, not from strain, but from restraint. From holding yourself together when everything inside you was screaming to break.
Killing her would end it. The war. Her grip on your people. The fear that had ruled your life.
And that terrified you more than anything.
Because it meant acknowledging that the woman who raised you had become something that needed to be stopped.
Varang’s laughter faltered.
She saw it then. Not hesitation, but resolve. The way your shoulders squared. The way your breathing slowed, forced into control. The way your eyes locked onto hers, glassy with tears but unflinching.
The sound cut off abruptly, her expression twisting into a snarl.
“You would dare,” she hissed, venom dripping from every syllable.
She saw herself. Varang saw the child she once was, ruthless and determined. You were a spitting image of her, red painted smeared across your face and all. Her pride was crushed by her bruising ego, hating the fact that you were her. Only better. Smarter.
Your chest felt like it was caving in. You wanted to scream. To beg. To rewind time to before any of this had ever happened. But instead, you held her gaze, silently letting her see the truth she had refused to accept.
You had already lost her.
For a long, terrible moment, neither of you moved.
Then Varang’s jaw clenched. With a sharp, furious sound, she shoved Neteyam away from her, releasing his kuru with a violent yank. The forced connection snapped, and Neteyam cried out as his body collapsed forward, palms slamming into the stone as he gasped for breath, pain tearing through him in one final wave.
“Run,” Varang snarled.
You did not hesitate.
The bow fell from your hands as you surged forward, dropping to Neteyam’s side and hooking an arm under his shoulder. He was unsteady, disoriented, but he moved with you, trusting you even now as you hauled him to his feet.
Behind you, Varang’s voice rose, sharp and furious, echoing through the chamber like a curse.
“This is not over!” she screamed. “You hear me? The war is not over!”
You did not look back.
The Ash village erupted into chaos as you burst outside. Smoke hung thick in the air, stinging your eyes, and the ground beneath your feet was slick with ash and blood. Returning warriors froze at the sight of you fleeing together, shock rippling through them before shouts broke out.
Hands reached for you.
Someone grabbed your arm, fingers digging in painfully, and you twisted free with a sharp cry, slamming your elbow back into their ribs. Another lunged for Neteyam, and something feral snapped inside you. You shoved them away, claws raking across their face as they stumbled back, cursing.
Your heart thundered in your chest as adrenaline flooded your veins, fear and determination blurring into something singular and unstoppable. You fought your way forward, dragging Neteyam with you as more Ash warriors closed in, torn between loyalty and disbelief.
For a terrifying moment, it felt like the entire village was turning against you.
Then a piercing screech cut through the chaos.
A nightwraith dove from the smoke-filled sky, landing hard nearby as its wings flared wide. Lew’eyn was already leaning down from the saddle, his expression frantic as he held out a hand.
“Now!” he shouted.
You shoved Neteyam forward, scrambling up after him as Lew’eyn hauled you both onto the nightwraith’s back. Claws scraped at your legs as warriors tried to grab you, but the beast surged upward, wings beating violently as it tore free from the ground.
The village fell away beneath you.
Varang’s scream followed you into the air, raw and furious, carrying long after the Ash Nation shrank into a smoldering blur below.
Neteyam slumped forward, breath still uneven, and you wrapped an arm around him without thinking, holding him upright as Lew’eyn guided the nightwraith higher. The wind tore at your face and braids, cold and sharp, but you barely noticed.
Slowly, Neteyam lifted his head. His eyes met yours for just a moment, filled with awe, disbelief, and something dangerously close to heartbreak. You saw it there, the realization settling in. That you had chosen him. Not just him, but everything he represented. The forest. A future that was terrifying and uncertain and free.
Without a word, he reached forward and took the reins, his hands steady despite everything, guiding the nightwraith toward the distant glow of the Hallelujah Mountains.
You were tainted. And the thrum in your chest didn't help you figure out whether if it was the forest or the ash that had done so.
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