Knight!Simon Riley who first sees you at King!John’s wedding and decides exactly what kind of life you were meant to live. You’re nothing like your sister: your leg wobbles when you curtsy and your lips quiver as you lock onto his hungry gaze.
Simon promises to keep you fed, dressed in the finest silks and to bring home only the thickest of furs to cushion your pretty little head as he fucks you into your marital bed.
He spends the next 3 months warding off your other potential suitors and piling heads at King John’s feet. The sick possibility of what he might do if he can’t have you weighs over his majestys’ heads until they agree to the engagement.
The wedding is nothing short of magnificent for the King’s right hand man: your sister makes sure you’re dressed in pretty lace with the heaviest jewels the kingdom can find. Simon marries you in full armour, still bloodied with his latest kill and not so much a smirk sent your way— he terrifies you.
Knight!Simon Riley who basically abandons you as soon as you’re married. He’s a brute, good for war and not much else, not quite sure how to show that he loves you. He gives you a gorgeous estate and enough on-hand staff to make sure you never want for anything but money can only buy so much.
At first, you don’t mind it too much.
Your big, scary husband fucks off to fight John’s war overseas and leaves you to your own devices. You spend your time how your mother taught you a woman should: knitting tiny blankets for your future children and writing heartfelt letters that you assume never grace your husband’s sight. If Simon does get them, he never writes back.
Simon’s been gone for 2 months already when the whispers finally reach your ears. The nobles whisper about how boring you must seem to him, no wonder he leaves you all alone. ‘Why would he care about her when he can have any other woman out there?’
You let the rumours consume you, surely they must be right, it’s not like he showed any interest in you. By the time you skip your second weekly letter to Simon, he’s already pulled his men and is halfway back to you.
“Tha’s no way t’greet your husband,” he’s pissed once he comes back.
Simon’s presence consumes the doorway where he stands in your foyer. He seems bigger in his armour, you can see his muscle tensing even through the metal.
Bitterness mares your gorgeous features, the flames of your anger towards him radiating against his imposing stature. "Some husband you are, stop pretending you care."
His response is a sharp ‘Wot?’
You flinch at the heavy thump of his boots as he inches towards you and it’s not long before he’s reaching one rough, gloved hand to grip your jaw.
“Is tha’ wot they’re tellin’ you? Filling up your pretty head while ‘m away,” his voice is as soft as it can be for a man of his calibre, a huff rather than the usual rumble.
"You don't even write to me Simon," he doesn’t miss your trembling lip or the way your eyes dart everywhere but his, "You don't spend time with me or send me gifts-"
He can smell the fear on you and it makes his skin itch, his darling wife would never have a hair on her head touched— by him or anyone else.
He closes the space between you, rough hands pulling you flush against him by your waist. He's so close you can smell the blood that never seems to be fully scrubbed from his armour.
"Answer your husband," he forces you to meet his eyes with a firm grip on your chin, "Y'think I'm being unfaithful t'ya?" He kisses your cheek, breathing in your sweet scent that immediately has his cock stirring to life and pressing into your stomach. "They tell ya I go out there to kill men and fuck their women? Is tha' right?"
You sniffle and weakly shove at him, his grip on you barely falters.
Stupid girl. Why would you listen to those people that know nothing? It's alright, your big bad husband will just have to fuck that idea out of you.
"Simon's here now lovie 'n he's gonna show ya how much he missed ya."
Your husband is only slightly off from a wild animal. You see it in the way he eats, fights and certainly in the way he fucks.
Simon has you on all fours, your hair wrapped up in his fist as he bounces you on his cock. He groans at the sweet sight of cream forming at his base from your frantic fucking.
Your pussy squelches with every snap of his hips, ramming his thick cock impossibly deeper. The pleasure borders on pain with the bruising push of his tip against your cervix, a mind-numbing feeling that has you drooling onto the sheets.
The only thought you can manage is your husband and his cock. Simon Simon Simon-- like a mantra.
"I'm gonna fuck ya full. Give ya a fat Riley baby so ya won't have time for these thoughts," he grunts.
Your ass ripples with his brutal thrusts, bouncing off his pelvis. Simon's full balls smacks wetly against your clit, sticking to your skin with your slick. It's been weeks with his fist and his balls ache, heavy with the need to empty everything he's got into your fluttering hole.
He dreams of you when he's away, tells Johnny and Kyle that they've got to be quick so he can get back to his beautiful wife and her even more perfect cunt.
Simon knows by the quivering of your legs and the way your pussy clenches around him that you're close and he can't help but let a laugh rip from his chest. "Are ya close? Gonna cum for your husband?" he snickers.
His rough fingers snake around to rub figures into your clit, the pressure unreal when combined with the stretch of his fat cock. "Go on lovie, cum on my cock and I'll give ya what y'want."
His seed-- you whimper at the thought of it, warm and thick from your husband's ridiculous diet, flooding your wanting womb. Your whole body twitches, back arching painfully as your pussy clamps down on him so tight he couldn't pull out if he wanted to. He grinds into you as you convulse through the shocks of your orgasm, dragging his cock along your walls slowly as he feels his own orgasm creeping up on him.
"Fuckin hell- your pussy's killin' me," he groans, eyes crinkling shut in pleasure.
Simon hunches over your back, burying himself to the hilt as his cock twitches as empties his load into you, creamy white filling you to the brim until his cum is leaking out the sides of where his cock plugs you up.
Perfect wife, perfect cunt and in a few months, a perfect family that no one would dare to whisper about.
Is this an antisemitism page? I think you, like many others, misunderstand what Zionism actually is. Using "Zionist" as a slur implies that you are condemning Jewish people for actions/policies carried out by the Israeli government which is a different issue.
This is not me siding with Israel, I am simply pointing out that using this word in such a way is harmful. You can be against them without calling others "zions" when true Zionism is advocating for the Jewish people's right to self-determination. It is not about violence. You can be critical of Israel without being antisemitic.
it’s an antizionist page. and nope. it’s the right to self determination on STOLEN PALESTINIAN LAND. so fuck off.
Isreal DOES NOT have a right to exist!!!! it’s not a real country 🇮🇱 = 💩
does anyone know that nanami fic where you’re his pregnant wife and yall already have one baby but she’s feeling neglected and thinks he’s having an affair, she confronts him and they passionately make up?
i read it years ago but i can’t stop thinking abt it lately
And I think the whole dance of the dragons can be summed up in Robert’s line: ‘Nonsense! It’s a chair made of steel swords. Rhaenyra had wanted it all her life and had sacrificed 2 sons for it, she likely gripped the damned thing too tight.’
pairings aged-up!neteyam x omatikaya!female reader
notes literally just heavy smut with a plot... p in v, oral (f and m receiving), kuru play, tsaheylu, angst with comfort
synopsis neteyam and you are exes... but neteyam refuses to be an ex.
word count 17.2k
————————
You contentedly sighed as you meticulously sorted through the day’s forage. Your fingers, used to years of handling rough fibers and sharp roots, moved with practiced ease, separating edible tubes from those meant for weaving while the smell of ferns, rich damp soil, and the faint, sweet perfume of blossoming epiphytes surrounded you.
You were smiling to yourself as you breathed it in, a familiar comfort… Until you were not. The pleasurable smell is now marred with something familiar, something more potent, the smell your brain conjures whenever you reach your climax every time you touch yourself— if that is even possible.
Then, a shadow fell over your work, tall and broad. Your shoulders tensed, a familiar prickle of annoyance rising before you even turned your head. You didn’t need to. The scent of him, that particular blend of wildness and something uniquely him, had announced his presence long before his physical form blocked the dappled light.
Neteyam. Your ex.
Or, rather, the man who refuses to be your ex. A sigh escaped your lips, a tiny puff of exasperation. It has been moons since you uttered the words ‘let’s stop this’ and not a single day had passed without his looming presence. To be fair, he did reply ‘I don’t want to’ to what you said and proceeded to act like you two never broke up.
“It’s late,” he rumbled, his voice a low thrum that vibrated through the air, the vibrations reaching your spine.
You rolled your eyes and gathered everything without the genteel and care you previously had. “It’s none of your business,” you said, standing up so you could walk away.
He reached out, his large hand gently taking the basket from your grasp. His fingers brushed yours, a lingering touch that felt both accidental and deliberate.
You pulled your hand back, a sharp tug. “Do not touch me!” you said in a hiss, your teeth gritted as your sharp eyes snapped at him.
A slow smile spread across his face, a possessive curve that always made your stomach clench, a mixture of annoyance and a traitorous warmth. “So cranky, my baby,” he said, voice filled with humor.
You hissed as you walked away, a deliberate swish of your hips, ignoring the way he easily kept pace beside you. “Go away, you!”
Now, a huge grin cut through his lips. “Such a harsh greeting for your man–”
You spun to face him again. “You are not my man,” you snapped, your voice tight as you quickened your stride.
He stepped in front of you, blocking your path. His eyes, a golden pool, held a familiar glint of amusement. He stood taller, broader, and more muscled than most Na’vi, a warrior's physique honed by countless hunts and patrols. His queue, thick and braided, hung over his back.
“Not your man, then what am I?” He tilted his head, a playful challenge in his expression.
“My ex,” you bit out, trying to walk past him, though your heart hammered against your ribs. The word felt like a brand, raw and painful.
He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. “I’m pretty sure you won’t let your ex fuck you on your hands and knees last night, yawntu…”
Your face flushed as you glared at him. “That was a mistake.”
“Was it?” His voice was a whisper now, close to your ear. His breath, warm and smelling of mint, feathered against your cheek. “Felt so good to me.” His hand, large and calloused, hovered over your waist, caressing softly.
You swatted his hand away. “Stop it, Neteyam. I’m serious!” You gripped a cluster of medicinal leaves nearby, pulling them harder than necessary, just pretending to do anything.
He moved in front of you, blocking your path again. His smile was infuriatingly charming, the kind that made your breath catch even when you despised him. “I finished my patrol early. Thought I’d keep you company.”
“I don’t need company.” You tried to step around him, but he mirrored your movement, a wall of muscle and stubbornness. You stopped abruptly, facing him. "What do you want, Neteyam?" Your voice was low, tight with frustration.
He stopped too, his height eclipsing you, casting a long shadow. He held your basket loosely, his muscles flexing under his dark skin. "Just wanted to see you." His eyes held yours, unblinking, a silent challenge.
"You see me every day," you said, your voice rising slightly. "You follow me. You wait for me. You act like–"
"Like what?" he interrupted, taking a step closer. The air between you crackled.
"Like we're still together!" The words burst out, a frustrated whisper. You glanced around, afraid anyone nearby might hear.
His smile widened, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes. "Are we not?"
You threw your hands up in exasperation. "We broke up! Moons ago! I told you, I want to move on. Find someone I can actually have a future with, and not–" You cut yourself off, the last word catching in your throat.
He tilted his head, his expression softening, a dangerous tenderness entering his gaze. "Not just what, yawntu?" His voice dropped, a silken caress. "Not just love you with every fiber of his being?"
"Don't," you warned, taking a step back. "Don't do that."
"Do what?" He took another step forward, closing the distance you tried to create. "Love you?"
"Manipulate me," you corrected, your voice trembling slightly. "You know what I mean." You turned, resuming your walk back to Hometree, the weight of his presence still a heavy cloak around you.
The next day, as you were helping your mother weave a new sleeping mat, you spotted a small, intricately carved wooden ikran on your workbench. Its wings spread as if in mid-flight, its eyes fashioned from polished river stones. You recognized the craftsmanship immediately. Neteyam had carved it. He had always been good with his hands, creating small, beautiful things from wood and bone.
Your mother, her nimble fingers working the fibers, glanced at it. “A gift.”
“An annoyance,” you corrected, picking it up. It was smooth, warm from his touch. You wanted to throw it, to smash it, but instead, you simply placed it carefully on a high shelf, out of immediate sight, but not out of mind.
Later, while you were collecting water from the nearby river, he was there again. He stood talking to a hunter, his voice low and his posture straight. But his eyes, you felt them on you, a constant, unwavering presence. As you bent to fill your gourds, a sudden, playful splash of water hit your cheek.
You looked up, glaring. He’s now bent by the river, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, snatching a water gourd.
“Careful,” he said, his voice laced with feigned concern. “You almost fell in.”
“I’m perfectly capable of getting water without your help.” You wiped the water from your face, annoyance bubbling.
“Just making sure.” He leaned, submerging the water gourd he’s holding to fill it with water, his gaze lingering on your face. “You look… parched.”
You ignored him, filling your gourds, the weight of his stare heavy on you. When you turned to leave, he stood up, keeping pace with you, and taking the gourds you’re holding.
“Move, Neteyam.”
“Not until you talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“There’s everything to say.” He took a step closer, his height intimidating. “Why are you doing this?”
“I’m not doing anything. I’m living my life.”
“Without me?” He scoffed. You walked past him without a word and he followed you, his long strides easily matching yours. “You think I’ll just let you go?”
“You have no choice.”
He tilted his head at what you said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He seemed to be holding his words back and you rolled your eyes, walking past him, your shoulders shoving his arm.
The next few weeks were a blur of Neteyam's relentless pursuit. He'd appear beside you during your morning foraging before he leaves for patrol, his large hand brushing against yours as he passes a water skin. During the evening meals, you'd feel his gaze on you from across the communal fire, a steady, unwavering heat. He’d bring you small gifts… a perfectly carved wooden animal, a rare iridescent feather, a cluster of sweet berries he’d found deep in the forest… Always with that infuriatingly innocent smile.
One afternoon, you sat by the weaving looms, your fingers deftly interlacing fibers when one of the hunters, Raynuk, approached, his expression open and friendly.
He began with calling your name, his voice soft, "I was wondering if you would consider joining me forage tomorrow. My family needs more feather blade seed, and you know the forest paths better than anyone."
You smiled, a genuine smile that hadn't graced your lips often lately. "I would like that, Raynuk. I know a good abundant site."
Before Raynuk could respond, a shadow fell over you both. Neteyam stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable.
"Raynuk," Neteyam's voice was a low growl, "I need you for a patrol of the northern ridge tomorrow. First light."
Raynuk’s brow furrowed. "But, Neteyam, I-I already have plans—"
"This is an urgent matter," Neteyam cut him off, his golden eyes fixed on Raynuk with an intensity that brooked no argument. "The palulukan tracks were fresh this morning. It requires our best hunters." He paused, then added, "And you, Raynuk, are one of our best." The words were a thinly veiled threat.
Raynuk’s shoulders slumped. He glanced at you, a silent apology in his eyes. "Of course, Neteyam. I will be ready." He nodded curtly at you, then turned and walked away, his shoulders stiff.
You glared at Neteyam, your weaving forgotten. "You did that on purpose!"
He shrugged, a nonchalant tilt of his head. "Just fulfilling my duties as a warrior. The clan's safety comes first." His gaze met yours, a triumphant glint in his eyes. "You understand, don't you, yawntu?"
You snatched up your unfinished weaving, your fingers trembling with rage. "You are insufferable!" You stalked away, leaving him standing there, a smirk playing on his lips.
The cycle continued. Every time a young warrior or hunter showed even a flicker of interest, Neteyam would materialize, his presence a silent wall, his words a polite but firm dismissal. He’d find a sudden, urgent task for them, a distant patrol or a difficult hunt. Your potential suitors, sensing the unspoken challenge, would retreat, leaving you alone with Neteyam’s smug satisfaction.
Truthfully, you want to be peeved by it. You want to genuinely be annoyed at him and lash out on him, but you can’t even bring yourself to act like it because Neteyam can be really silly when he’s too determined that you find his antics funny instead of infuriating. Besides… Your resolve is too weak. Especially when it comes to him.
You moaned, your hand squeezing the sap to extract its lather, the water’s warmth seemed to loosen the tight cords of the muscle on your upper back, its fall a delicious weight cascading down your unbraided hair. You lathered the sap on your skin, bending down to work on your thighs but your relaxation was quickly replaced with hyper vigilance when you heard a rustle nearby.
You craned your neck, looking at where you last heard movements, expecting a direhorse or a hexapede. Instead, Neteyam emerged from the foliage, his loincloth clinging to his wet skin, his queue dripping water. He had clearly been swimming, perhaps in the waters far from here. His golden eyes, bright and alert, fixed on you.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, his voice smooth as the stream water. He walked towards you, his movements fluid and powerful as a playful glint danced in his golden orbs.
You sighed. “Are you following me?”
He stopped a few feet away, his gaze lingering on your bare chest before it travelled down your legs that were partially submerged in the water. “Just enjoying the forest. Is that forbidden now?”
You covered your chest and ought to turn your back, but he’ll see your ass if you do! You glared at him, “Then move along. Someone is bathing here as you can see… And turn around,” you ordered in a sassy voice.
He snickered. “I’ve seen it all… Licked it all,” he said, and even though you’re not looking, you can tell that he’s smirking.
You groaned as your face heated up. You spun around so you could throw the sap you’re holding directly at him but he merely moved his head to the side and evaded it effortlessly. “You are so crass!”
He chuckled, a low, throaty sound. He stepped into the stream and your breathing hitched. “But did I lie? Baby, my mouth knows every crevice of your pussy better than I know the patterns on my own face—”
“Neteyam!” You shrieked, your face and chest already burning up from embarrassment. He was right, no lie there at all, but must he really say it that shamelessly?!
He moved closer and you threw another sap which he, once again, evaded without any difficulty. The laugh he let out probably cost his muscles more. You delivered several splashes of water his way so that he’d stop but it only propelled him to get to you faster, his iron-like arms wrapping around your waist.
You shrieked and squirmed in his arms, you’re wet and slippery and it ought to give him a hard time but one of his large hands clamped around one of your thighs and wrapped it around him. Your arms found purchase on his broad shoulders, scared you’d fall. One of his hands pushed you further into him, groaning when he felt your soft breasts pressing against his chest.
His hands settled on your hips, large and possessive, pulling you gently against his front. His hard cock, already springing to life, pressed against your belly. Your breathing hitched, your fingers gripping his biceps.
“What are you doing?” you whispered, your voice trembling.
“Making sure no one else sees you?” he murmured innocently, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. His tongue flicked out, tasting the water and your skin. He began to kiss your neck, slow and deliberate, his hands tracing the curve of your hips, then sliding lower, cupping your bottom.
You sighed softly. “Handing me my clothes would have been the best way to do so…” And yet, you craned your neck, giving him better access to it.
He chuckled as he lifted his head so he could kiss you. “Or I could cover you with my body,” he whispered against your lips before capturing them into another searing kiss.
You tightened your arms around his shoulders and he lowered his head even further, deepening his kiss as if to answer your eagerness. He scooped you into his arms, your other leg instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried you into the bank, and then to the undergrowth, towards a small, secluded clearing.
He laid you down gently on a bed of soft moss, his body hovering over yours. The weight of him, familiar and comforting, pressed you into the moss. His golden eyes, usually so serious, now held a mischievous glint as they wandered on your body with appreciation and lust.
“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire as before lowering his head to suck a pebble tip into his mouth with a groan. He lifted his head and stared into your eyes, “See how we always come back to each other?“
You rolled your eyes, a small huff escaping your lips. “I’m only here because you carried me here, you brute.”
He grinned, a flash of white teeth in the dim light. “Details.”
His fingers caressed its way up from your waist to your breasts, already swollen and sensitive under his gaze. He watched you, his eyes devouring every inch, a slow, possessive hunger in their depths. A shiver ran through you, a mix of apprehension and undeniable arousal, as you watched him lick his lips.
He lowered his head, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of your collarbone, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You arched your back, a soft moan escaping your lips. His hands, large and calloused, moved to your hips. His touch was both gentle and demanding, a tantalizing dance of power and surrender.
His lips found your nipple, sucking gently, a wet, warm sensation that made your toes curl. You gasped, your fingers tangling in his long braids, pulling him closer, urging him on. He moved from one breast to the other, suckling more flesh into his mouth. Your body was alive, every nerve ending humming with anticipation.
He moved lower, his tongue tracing a fiery path down your stomach, stopping just above your mound. You trembled, your breath catching in your throat. His golden eyes met yours, a silent question passing between you. You nodded, a desperate, silent plea for him to continue.
His fingers touched your silky folds, parting them gently. The air, cool against your heated flesh, made you shiver. He dipped his head, his tongue flicking out, tasting you. A gasp tore from your throat, a wave of intense pleasure washing over you. His tongue was a hot, wet brand, swirling around your clitoris, teasing and tormenting. You bucked against him, your hips lifting, desperate for more.
He groaned, a deep sound of pleasure. His fingers found their way inside you, two of them, stretching you, exploring your wet depths. You were slick, already so ready for him. His cock, thick and hard, is pulsing with anticipation. He could scarcely wait to be inside you again.
“You’re so wet for me, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.
He moved his fingers in and out, a slow, deliberate rhythm, while his tongue continued its exquisite torture on your clit. You were writhing beneath him, lost in a haze of sensation. The scent of sex, musky and sweet, filled the air around you.
“Neteyam,” you whimpered, a plea, a demand.
He pulled his fingers out, and you cried out in protest. But then, he shifted, positioning himself between your legs. His dark eyes watched you as his large hand clamped around the underside of your knees, spreading you impossibly wider. His cock, a thick, throbbing column of flesh, pressed against your entrance.
He pushed, slowly, deliberately. You gasped as his head breached your opening, stretching you, filling you, and with a powerful thrust, he plunged fully inside you. A moan ripped from your throat, a mix of pain and exquisite pleasure. You were stretched to your limit, filled to overflowing. His cock filled you completely. It’s been weeks since the last time that the stretch felt both new and familiar, a deep, satisfying ache.
He began to move, a slow, rhythmic thrusting that quickly gained momentum. His hips slammed against yours, a primal beat that resonated through the jungle. The sound of your bodies meeting, a wet, slapping sound, filled the air. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he immediately lowered himself down, so you could pull him close. He captured your lips in an open-mouthed kiss and you moaned into his mouth. When he angled his head to kiss your neck, you buried your face in his shoulder, your teeth clamping down on it.
He whispered your name, again and again, his voice hoarse with exertion. Each thrust was deeper, harder, more insistent. You were lost in the rhythm, your mind emptying of everything but the sensation of him inside you, filling you, claiming you. Your clit, still sensitive from his earlier ministrations, was now being stimulated by the friction of his movements, rubbing against his pubic bone.
You felt the tension building within you, a coil tightening in your belly. Your body began to convulse, a series of exquisite spasms that wracked your frame. You cried out, your orgasm tearing through you, raw and intense.
He groaned, his body tensing, his thrusts quickening, deepening. With a final, powerful surge, he emptied himself deep inside you, a hot, pulsing gush that filled you to overflowing. He collapsed on top of you, his heavy weight pinning you to the mossy ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
You mewled, kissing the bite you left on his shoulder to ease him from the pain but he probably didn’t even feel it because he merely smiled and kissed your cheek, thinking you were being sweet.
“I bit you,“ you said. “Sorry.”
He lifted his head a little, craning his head to see. He smirked before he turned to you with a mischievous grin. “I guess I got myself marked,“ he said.
“Shut up. I just needed something to clamp my teeth on,” you countered.
He chuckled, cupping your jaw and pressing a hard kiss on your lips. “Was it that good, baby?“
You groaned, your cheeks heating up, you pushed against his chest, your hips bucking against him. “Get off me,“ you ordered but your voice lacked its usual fire.
His amusement never faltered though, even teasing you by pulling your hips toward him as he rose, making you straddle him. He kissed you, “Take me back…” he whispered against your lips. “This break up is not funny.”
You reared your head back, your eyes fixed on his lips. “I don’t know…”
He tilted his head and kissed you, his arm wrapped around you and pulled you to him until your breasts were pressed tightly against his chest. “Do you understand I’m never going to let you go?” he asked.
You huffed a mocking laugh. “You’ll have to… Eventually,” you said in a hoarse voice.
His jaw clenched and you can feel the heat of his intense stare even if your eyes are fixed somewhere else. “What do you mean?“
You rolled your eyes and grinded your hips against him, your tender clit rubbing against the hard planes of his pelvis. You moaned, your walls stretched and filled to the brim, squeezed around him involuntarily and he groaned, holding your hips in place but you only lifted your hips so you could get the fiction you're craving.
You groaned when he wouldn't cooperate, still trying to pull you down his lap. “Will you fuck me or not?” you asked, looking into his eyes now.
There was a hard look on his eyes and his lips were in a thin line as he stared at you, as if he’s weighing things down, and then he pulled you by the nape of your neck and kissed you hard. His large hand splayed behind your thigh and pulled it around him before laying you down on the ground again. He merely parted your legs a little wider and started delivering a series of punishing thrusts that stole your very breath.
Your hand squeezed his bicep while the other wrapped around his shoulders. You don’t even know if it's still possible for him to pick up his pace, but his thrusts did come harder and more urgent, as if punishing you for whatever but it wasn’t a punishment at all, for it feels so good. Your body responded in kind, your hips bucking against his, your moans growing louder, more desperate.
You felt the familiar tightening in your core, the building pressure, the inevitable climax approaching. You cried out, your voice raw with pleasure, as another wave of ecstasy washed over you, even more powerful than the first. Your body convulsed around his cock, milking him, drawing out his own pleasure. He groaned, a guttural sound, his body tensing, then he too cried out, his seed spilling deep inside you again, hot and potent.
His breath came in ragged gasps, fanning the side of your face before he buried his own in your neck, his lips pressing a hard kiss against your soft skin. “I love you so much…” he breathed as he peppered your neck with kisses that trail its way up to your jaw and cheek.
You bit your tongue and when he lifted his head to look at you, you buried your face on the crook of his neck to hide from him instead. He chuckled and cradled your head, his hand running through your unbraided hair which reminds you that you’re going to see Kiri tonight. She promised to braid your hair.
You startled when you remembered. “I have to see Kiri tonight. She’s going to braid my hair,” you said, pushing against his chest.
He groaned but pushed himself up anyway, kneeling between your legs and pulling his cock out of you with a squelching sound. You mewled at his absence, your walls clenching at nothing as you felt warm wetness gush out of you. His hand were on you right away, scooping his cum and pushing what he could back inside you. Your hips bucked and you moaned, both from the sensitivity and the pleasure of it. He watched you with dark eyes, lathering some of the wetness over your soft and silky folds before bringing his hand up close to your mouth.
You parted your lips to bring your fingers into his mouth, sucking his fingers clean with a hum. Your tail did a happy wag behind you, something it usually does when you’re eating what you like. Your eyes peered up at him and the look on your face brought heat to his face that for a moment, he felt like a teenage boy again.
He grabbed your clothes and helped tie your loincloth around your tail. He runs his fingers through your hair as you fix your top over your chest. He fixed himself as well, and in the dimmed light, you could see how spent he looked despite the shit-eating grin he had on his lips and you wondered if you looked as exhausted because you are.
The jungle was loud with the symphony of night creatures as you walked beside Neteyam. The path, worn smooth by generations of Omatikaya feet, offered a familiar comfort under your own. He walked with that easy, predatory grace, his broad shoulders cutting through the humid air.
“Wait here,” you said, your voice flat, devoid of the tremor that still shook your insides. The hometree’s immense roots loomed ahead, a dark, living fortress against the sky. “Just for a few minutes. I’ll go in first.”
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. His golden eyes, usually so serious, crinkled at the corners, a flash of amusement sparking within them. He found your little charade entertaining. Your insistence on maintaining the illusion that you two broke up, even when the very smell coming from you screamed of him. He scented of you too, a potent blend of jasmine and forest floor, the unique aroma of your skin. Anyone with a working nose would know.
You turned away, the rustle of your feet soft against the forest’s quiet. You didn’t need to look back to know he was still smiling, a silent, knowing grin. A moment later, you heard the deeper tones of young male voices, approaching Neteyam. You glanced over your shoulder, unable to resist. Three young hunters, their faces earnest, now stood before him. They spoke of a patrol, a minor disturbance in the southern territories. Neteyam, the ever-serious, commanding warrior, simply nodded, his smile still fixed on his face.
He waved a dismissive hand, a gesture of "all is well," the cheerfulness radiating from him so out of place that even the young warriors exchanged bewildered glances. They probably thought he had lost his mind. None of them knew they had you to thank. Another time, if Neteyam weren’t properly sated, he would have gotten so mad, but because he had his fill of you, nothing could possibly ruin his mood.
You pushed through the hanging vines and stepped into the familiar warmth of the Sully family kelku. The air inside smelled woven reeds and the faint, sweet scent of Kiri’s herbal infusions. Tuk saw your loose hair and jumped in joy, knowing she could help braid and design your hair. Now, Kiri sat cross-legged on a mat, her deft fingers already weaving strands of your hair into intricate braids. Tuk, eight seasons old now, sat nearby, meticulously arranging a pile of polished river beads she means to put on your hair.
She held up a set of deep purple ones. “This one is really good, Y/N. You love this color, I think. And if it hits the light, it shines. See?“ she grinned at you and you smiled back.
“It’s beautiful, Tuk-tuk, I think I do like that,“ you agreed.
Suddenly, the kelku entrance rustled. Neteyam strode in, his presence filling the space. His gaze immediately found yours, a possessive warmth in his golden eyes. Tuk turned to him, her head tipping up as her nose twitched in the air. She seemed to follow a trail in the air and her gaze locked with yours when it connected to you.
“You smell like Neteyam,” Tuk said, her small nose twitching as she looked up at you, her eyes wide with innocent curiosity.
A muffled snort came from the corner where Lo’ak sat, meticulously polishing his rifle, the metallic gleam catching the dim light. Spider, perched on a woven stool next to him, erupted in a burst of laughter as they both watched Neteyam move with purpose, heading for the waterskins hanging from a sturdy root.
“Bro, is that a bite mark on your shoulder?” Lo’ak pointed, his voice laced with mock concern, his eyes twinkling.
Neteyam took a long, slow drink from the waterskin, his throat working. He lowered it, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and simply nodded.
Spider’s laughter intensified. “A wild wiperwolf got to you, huh? Left hickeys, too?”
Kiri, her fingers still working diligently through your hair, tugged subtly, a silent signal. “I thought you two broke up?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
You sighed, a weary exhalation. “Yeah,” you whispered back, the word tasting like ashes in your mouth. You thought that too. You truly did.
The days that followed were a relentless campaign. He appeared everywhere. When you were foraging, he’d be there, a silent shadow, offering a helping hand with a heavy basket or pointing out a particularly fruitful patch of berries. When you were training, he’d be on the periphery, his eyes following your every move. During communal meals, he’d subtly maneuver to sit near you, his knee occasionally brushing yours under the table.
He sabotaged every attempt you made to move on. Raynuk would try to engage you in conversation, his voice a hopeful murmur, only for Neteyam to materialize, a silent, imposing figure, his golden eyes fixed on Raynuk with an intensity that bordered on menace.
One evening, as Raynuk was attempting to walk you back to your family’s kelku, Neteyam appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, holding a freshly caught fish, still wriggling.
“I caught this for your mother,” he said, his voice loud, cutting through Raynuk’s hesitant words. “She said she wanted something fresh for stew.” He looked at Raynuk, his gaze cold. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Raynuk, visibly uncomfortable, stammered a quick farewell and retreated, his shoulders slumping. Your sharp eyes followed him. You don’t know if you should be annoyed or what, but none of these men knew how to stand up to this man.
You turned on Neteyam, your eyes blazing. “What was that?”
He shrugged, offering you the fish. “Just being helpful.”
You slapped his hand away. “You did that on purpose!”
“Did what?” He feigned innocence, though a smug glint in his eyes betrayed him. “You’re ruining everything!”
“Am I?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “Or am I just reminding you of who you belong to?”
You turned away, your heart pounding with a mixture of anger and something else, something dangerous and undeniable. He was a constant, persistent ache, a wound that refused to heal.
“I’m leaving with a hunting party,” he said one day, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. “We’ll be gone for two weeks. Deep into the Lowlands.”
You tried to keep your face impassive, to project an air of indifference. You wanted to tell him you didn't care, that his departures meant nothing to you anymore but it did. You’ve always sent him off, always prayed for his safety. “Take... care.” you said in a small voice.
He tilted his head, his hand cupping your neck, his thumb on your jaw. “I’ll go home to you. Whole, I promise,” he chuckled and you bit your lip to stifle a smile.
“You better,” you said in a hoarse voice and he groaned, bending at the waist to kiss you.
You woke up early the next day, before light, thinking of sending him off and you did find yourself walking up to the highest branches of the hometree to where the ikran roost, only to be stopped at the sight of a familiar huntress. Lenara. The name landed like a stone in your gut. A cold, heavy lump formed in your throat, choking off any casual word you might have managed. She’s the daughter of Jake’s second-in-command. The one the council whispered about, the one they considered suitable.
You took a step back and with a heavy feet, walked away from there. You found yourself on a higher branch, away from prying eyes, trying to force the image of Lenara out of your mind. Moons ago, the whispers had begun, soft at first, then growing louder. Neteyam, the son of Toruk Makto, destined to lead, his future intertwined with the clan’s. He was in line to be Olo’eyktan someday. His life wasn’t his to decide. They needed to find a mate for him, a strong, capable partner to stand by his side, to bear his children, to lead with him. Lenara fit the description perfectly. A huntress of renown, she had led many successful hunts, her prowess in the forest undeniable.
You had accepted it then. That’s why you broke up with him, why you refused to take him back. You knew him. He was dutiful to a fault. He would follow his parents, the council, the ancient traditions. You would only get hurt if, one day, he came to you with that solemn, resigned look in his eyes and told you he had to choose another. You were doing both of you a favor by letting go. It was never going to be you. Two years you had spent together, and not once had he asked you to be his mate. It was clear. You understood. You were unsuitable. A gatherer, from a long line of weavers. He needed someone strong, someone suited to the public eye, to the demanding role of leadership. All you provided was physical pleasure, a fleeting comfort in the shadows of the forest.
“You didn’t come to see me good bye,” a deep voice spoke behind you and you startled.
You looked over your shoulder and saw Neteyam in his full warrior gear, the stones on the cummerbund you’ve woven for him shining in the dimmed light. He walked nearer and you lower lip tugged downward. You wanted to hug him, cry to him about your woes, hold him, hold him, hold him. But you can’t. Distance yourself, that’s what you must do.
“Do I need to?“ you asked.
He raised a brow at your sharp tone but he ignored it, moving closer until he could hold you. “Yeah. Always,“ he breathed the scent of your hair. “For the sake of your warrior, he must receive a sweet kiss from his woman. He’d ask for something else, if only his woman weren’t so grumpy in the morning.”
He bent to nuzzle his nose along the line of your neck, leaving soft kisses. You let him and you indulged yourself, stubborn and disobedient. You wouldn’t even listen to your own words.
“Kiss,“ he mumbled and you gave him your lips, reprimanding yourself at the same time. He claimed them, holding your jaw in place and kissing you deeply. You kissed back with the same fervor and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer as his tongue plundered your mouth and his lips warred with yours for dominance.
When he broke the kiss, his eyes searched for yours in the dim light. You know that look and you bit your lip. His hand slid down your thigh, pushing your loincloth aside. His fingers found your pussy, grunting when he found your folds already wet and silky with desire. He circled your clit with his thumb, then plunged two fingers deep inside you.
You gasped, your hips arching, your body responding instantly to his touch. He began to move his fingers, slow and deliberate, stretching you, filling you. You leaned your head back against the bark, your eyes closing as pleasure rippled through you. You felt him kneel and in a moment, his lips found the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You gasped, realizing his intent. He licked a warm, wet trail, then opened his mouth, taking your clit between his lips.
A jolt of pure ecstasy shot through you. You cried out, your body trembling, as his tongue began its rhythmic dance, sucking, licking, teasing. His fingers continued to plunge inside you, while his mouth worked magic on your clit. The sensations were overwhelming, a delicious torture.
You moaned, your hands gripping his hair, pulling him closer. He was relentless, his tongue a masterful instrument of pleasure, his fingers pushing deeper, faster. You felt yourself unraveling, your body shaking uncontrollably.
“Neteyam!” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper.
He continued, his mouth never leaving your clit, until you convulsed, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washing over you. You screamed, your body arching, your muscles contracting around his fingers. He swallowed the pearls of cum the dripped out of you, then continued to lick what comes out, savoring your climax.
You were breathless, spent, your body trembling. He pulled his mouth away, his hands holding you steady as he stood up to his full height. You shuddered as you looked up, as though you were reminded only now of how massive he is compared to you. You pressed a hand against his muscled abdomen when he kissed you, tasting yourself in him as you moved your hand down his loincloth, moving past its frontage and cupping his hardened cock.
He groaned against your lips and you answered with a moan when his hand grabbed the back of your thigh and lifted it up to wrap it around his waist. Meanwhile, you moved his loincloth aside to bring his cock out, pumping up and down its magnificent length as he positioned himself between your thighs. He pushed into you, slow and deliberate, filling you completely.
“Fuck, baby...“ he moaned, pushing your hips further toward him.
You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. He began to thrust, slow and deep, his hips rocking against yours. The bioluminescence around you reflected in his golden eyes, dark with desire as they watched multiple emotions dance around your face.
“Good?“ he asked and you nodded frantically. He stopped thrusting, “Words.“
“So good...” you breathed and he angled your thigh higher, moving faster, his body a powerful engine, driving into you. You tried to match his rhythm, your hips rising to meet his, your hands gripping his broad shoulders.
He groaned, pressing his forehead against yours, his face contorting with pleasure as he worked through the tight grip of your flesh around him. His head lowered and flicked the beads covering your bouncing breasts to bring one of it into the warmth of his mouth. You bit your lip when he suckled them earnestly, his cheeks hollowed as he tried to suck more flesh into his mouth. The pleasure built, a fierce, insistent thrum.
You cried out, your body convulsing around him, milking him. He roared, a guttural sound of pure satisfaction, and emptied himself inside you, his seed hot and thick, filling you with his warmth. You moaned as he continued kissing your soft skin, both your bodies trembling. The lingering scent of sex hung heavy in the air, a testament to the undeniable pull between you. You knew this was wrong, but in the moment, as his warmth enveloped you, it felt undeniably right.
He pressed his lips against your cheek as he slowly pulled out, watching your walls embrace his cock until it clenched at nothing, followed by thick strings of his come trickling down your thighs which he quickly gathered in his fingers and pushed back inside you.
You mewled. “It would drip anyway...“
He nuzzled his nose against your cheek. “Still need to make sure it all goes inside you,” he whispered, lathering the wetness over your folds and then bringing his hands to his cock so he could lather himself with it, too.
You licked your lip, fighting the urge to groan because you want to touch him and give him back what he’s given you but the sun is almost rising. He carefully put your thigh down, fixing your loincloth and angling his head to kiss your neck. He stood taller and tucked himself back in his loincloth.
His hand caressed your waist, squeezing gently before it trailed up to your breast. He kneaded both of them. “Sorry, best friends, we’re quick today,“ he told them, lowering his head to give both pebbled tips a quick suck.
You huffed. “You’re silly,“ your lips curled into a tired smile.
He kissed your forehead, his hand now snaking behind you, encircling an arm to hug you. “Don’t silly me, beautiful. I’m going to miss you so damn much,“ he said, emphasizing the last words, staring into your eyes.
You tore your gaze away, looking at his lips instead. “It’s just two weeks...”
“Still two weeks away from you,” he replied, his free hand now fixing your top. “I made a mess of you...”
You peered up at him, biting your lip. “It’s alright,” you mumbled.
He tilted his head. “You’ll wear me the whole day then?” he teased, his hand palming your slick inner thigh.
You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. He smiled back, kissing your smiling lips. A horn was blown, a signal for the hunters to convene. Your smile faded a little as you inhaled, he saw it and smiled a reassuring smile. “I’ll come home to you,“ he promised, like he always had, finding your hand.
You two walked hand in hand to the roost, but you pulled your hand away once you’re already there.
Neteyam grinned, shaking his head at this pretense. You gave him a sharp look that could be translated into ‘take care and don’t be stupid out there’. You turned your back on him, your tail flicking lasciviously. He licked his lips wet and reached for it, making you squeak and laugh, you’d slap his hand away if only Lenara had not appeared, her eyes already scrutinizing when it landed on you.
Your smile faltered a little, but you kept your chin lifted, and when you saw how her nose twitched after smelling Neteyam on you, you smiled at how her face had turned deep purple. You looked at Neteyam, “Lenara’s probably sent to fetch you. I’ll go,” you said in a hoarse voice, turning your back on them.
You looked over your shoulder when you were far enough and saw Neteyam still watching your back retreat even as Lenara talked to him. It was crazy how you felt so confident then, while the next two weeks felt like an eternity. Each sunrise felt colder, each sunset more desolate. The jungle, once vibrant and loud, now seemed muted, its sounds echoing your own emptiness. You were wondering what he’s up to… If Lenara’s working her way into his skin, as was intended.
When the news of their successful hunt reached the hometree, a strange mix of relief and dread washed over you. A grand festivity was planned to celebrate their return. You found yourself drawn, against your better judgment, to the ikran roost, the massive, gnarled branches that served as a landing for the winged beasts. You watched, hidden amongst the shadows, as the hunters returned. Their ikrans descended, their cries piercing the air, a flurry of vibrant wings and triumphant shouts.
Then you saw him. Neteyam, dismounting from his ikran with that effortless grace, his golden eyes scanning the crowd. And beside him, Lenara. She laughed at something he said, a bright, clear sound that carried on the breeze. She playfully smacked his chest, her hand lingering for a moment, her smile radiant. The sight was a physical blow, a sharp, cold stab delivered right to your chest. The air left your lungs, leaving you gasping, though no sound escaped.
You turned, stumbling away from the roost, the familiar path blurring through a sudden film of tears. The humiliation burned, a hot flush spreading across your skin. How stupid, you thought, how utterly foolish of you to think it was your place to wait for him. You spent the rest of the day in a haze of misery. He seemed truly busy, caught up in the preparations for the feast, surrounded by his family, by the other hunters. And probably by Lenara. He didn't seek you out immediately, and that absence, that lack of his usual relentless pursuit, only twisted the knife deeper. It felt like a confirmation of everything you were overthinking in the past weeks.
As the festivities began, the rhythmic drumbeats and communal chanting filling the air, you tried to disappear into the crowd. You watched from a distance as the Sullys took their place on the dais. Then, you saw the hunters who brought abundance to the clan, among them Neteyam and Lenara, performing the ancient tribal dance among the swirling mass of dancers. They moved together, their bodies flowing with the music, surrounded by other hunters and warriors. Cheers erupted, their voices rising and falling with the beat. It felt like someone was strangling you, forcing you to choke on dirt, on the bitter taste of your own insignificance.
You were unsuitable for that. For the public display, for the grand gestures, for the honored place by his side. Your place, you realized, was in the hidden thickets of the forest, designed only to pleasure him, a low virtue woman, a secret kept in the shadows.
You slipped away, unnoticed in the jubilant chaos. The sounds of celebration faded behind you as you made your way back to your family’s kelku. It was empty, a silent sanctuary. You collapsed onto your mat, the woven fibers cool against your cheek. The tears, held back for so long, burst forth. A raw, guttural sob ripped from your throat, followed by another, and another. You allowed yourself to make noise, to release the grief that had been building, knowing your family wasn’t home to hear.
You loved him. You always had. From childhood, through the awkward years of adolescence, and now, a love that was both a blessing and a curse. To know that it would never be you. You two would never happen. You would never have him in the ways you craved, the ways that truly mattered. Your sobbing was so loud, so consuming, that you didn’t hear the soft rustle of someone entering the kelku. You didn’t notice the shifting shadows until a warm hand touched your arm.
Your eyes snapped open, wide and startled, your breath catching in your throat. You flinched, pulling away, your gaze flying to the intruder. Neteyam. His forehead was creased, deep lines of worry etched between his brows, his golden eyes filled with a raw concern. His hand flew to your face, his thumb brushing away a tear, and he groaned, a low, pained sound.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.
You swatted his hand away, your earlier grief curdling into a familiar anger. “None of your concern. Why are you here?”
“Can’t find you in the crowd,” he answered, his hand falling to his side, but his eyes never leaving your face.
You rolled your eyes, turning your back to him, pulling your knees to your chest. “I wonder why,” you murmured, the sarcasm thick in your tone. You lay back down on your mat, facing away from him. The last thing you wanted was for him to know you were crying because of him, because of Lenara. “Leave. Leave me alone.”
“What?” you heard him ask, the word laced with confusion. His hand reached for your waist now, the other settling on your shoulder, gently but firmly turning you. He maneuvered your body until you were facing him again, your eyes still swollen and red. “Baby, why are you crying?”
You pushed against him, the anger now boiling over. “I already said nothing. When will you ever listen to what I say? I have told you we are over, and you won’t leave me alone. I told you to leave me alone, and you’re still here. Do you not respect me at all?”
Tears welled in your eyes again, blurring his face. He knew this was not the time for his usual playful indifference, his way of dismissing your words through jokes. This was real. You had pushed him away countless times before, but you had also allowed him to get close, to pull you back. He had never truly acknowledged the breakup, treating it like a temporary disagreement, a stubborn phase you would eventually get over. He couldn’t understand why you wanted to end things when nothing seemed to have changed. Your passion when you lay together, your fervent kisses, they were all still there. Did you not want him anymore, beyond the physical?
“Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. You stopped breathing, your heart hammering against your ribs. “That I leave you alone?”
You swallowed, the lump in your throat a painful obstruction. You braved the agony, the raw, searing pain in your chest, and nodded. “Yeah,” you said, your voice barely audible, a fragile whisper that seemed to shatter the silence. You tore your eyes from his, unable to meet the wounded gaze that now clouded his face.
You sensed him nod, a slow, deliberate movement. A fresh wave of tears threatened to overwhelm you. It’s for him, you told yourself, and for you. Should he one day realize he needs to act on his duty to the clan.
“Can I stay though?” he asked, his voice small, vulnerable, a stark contrast to his usual confidence. “Tonight? I missed you so much. I was counting the days until I got back and saw you again, and this is how you welcome me? A sight of you crying?”
“Stop,” you mumbled, pressing your hands over your ears, trying to block out his words, his pain. “Just go, Neteyam. And no, you can’t stay tonight. I want to be alone.”
You flopped back onto your mat, your back facing him, curling into a tight ball. He didn’t leave immediately. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, feeling like an eternity. You held your breath, terrified that any inhale, any exhale, would unleash another torrent of sobs. You heard the rustle of movement, the soft pad of his feet, the faint sound of the kelku entrance opening and closing. He was gone.
The relief was immediate, sharp, and quickly replaced by a profound, desolate emptiness. You let out a shuddering breath, and the tears came again, with a finality that echoed the silence in the kelku. This time, there was no holding back.
Meanwhile, Neteyam stood rooted outside as you sobbed within the kelku, the ache in his chest a dull throb. He was so frustrated with himself. For moons, he had asserted his will, his presence, refusing to acknowledge the space you demanded. Now, when he needs to truly be there, to gather you into his arms and hush your tears, he couldn’t, because he would be proving you right about not respecting your boundaries.
Do you not respect me at all? The question burned, a brand on his skin. He wanted to show you that he respects you. So he stayed, a statue carved from sorrow and regret, listening to the guttural sounds of your heartbreak.
You wished for his arms, the familiar weight, the scent of him that clung to you even now. But the image of Neytiri and Jake, their faces alight with pride as they watched Lenara by his side, twisted in your gut. He would forget you, once he was mated. Perhaps you would forget him, too, once you were mated. The thought felt like a lie, a cruel joke. No one could ever take his place. No one.
The days stretched, thin and brittle. You moved through the forest, a ghost among the vibrant flora, your foraging punctuated by your constant crying fest. You scanned the tree line, the undergrowth, a futile search for his familiar silhouette. He never appeared. Yet, a faint tremor in the leaves, a fleeting shadow at the edge of your vision, hinted at a presence. He moved unseen, a silent guardian, a shadow clinging to your path, ensuring your safety without breaking the fragile boundary you had erected.
At communal dinners, the warriors spoke of Neteyam and Lenara. The huntresses, however, offered a different narrative. Lenara, they murmured, was simply too eager. The whispers reached you, sharp barbs that pierced your already bruised heart.
Meanwhile, Raynuk whose admiration for you had been repeatedly thwarted by Neteyam’s possessive maneuvers, saw his chance. He approached you one day as you gathered fibers from plants. He moved with a quiet grace, his hands reaching to help you with the heavy basket of glowing specimens. You found yourself conversing with him easily, the simple act of sharing a task a comfort in your solitude.
He walked beside you, the basket now resting easily in his strong hand. As hometree’s immense roots began to loom into view, he stopped. He brushed his nape, his fingers wrapping around it nervously.
He called your name, his voice a low rumble. “There’s something I want to ask you. I want to ask now, just in case I get stopped by circumstances again.”
Your smile faltered. You recognized the hesitant posture, the slight tremor in his voice. You tilted your head, waiting. He truly believed it was "circumstances" that had kept him from you, oblivious to the silent, watchful presence that had always deterred him.
“I… well, can I court you? I have liked you for so long. And well, you were close to Neteyam and I thought you two are more than just friends… but I guess you’re not.” He offered a small, awkward smile. “I-I can wait for your answer. You don’t need to answer now. You can have all the time to think.”
A relieved smile spread across your face. “Alright… I’ll think about it, Raynuk. Thank you.”
He smiled back, a genuine warmth in his eyes. You resumed your walk towards Hometree, the basket now back in your hands.
From the training grounds, Neteyam’s gaze, sharp as a hunter’s arrow, fixed on your retreating figures. He watched Raynuk hand you the basket, a brief exchange of words, then a tentative hug before you parted. A low growl rumbled in Neteyam’s chest. He hadn't slept, barely eaten in two weeks, consumed by your absence, yet here you were, smiling after a touch from another. His eyes narrowed, a storm brewing within their golden depths.
He put his bow in its place, the thud echoing across the training area. Lo’ak’s voice, a distant shout, called out to him, but Neteyam ignored it. He knew your routine. After foraging, you always washed by the river. He stalked towards it, a predator on the hunt.
You knelt by the bank, washing the dust from your arms, when a familiar scent, a powerful blend of forest and warrior, reached you. You startled, your head snapping up. He stood there, a gaunt shadow, his face pale, eyes heavy with sleeplessness. Yet, your own eyes, sharp and accusing, met his, as if he had wronged you when you were the one who had sent him away.
“Raynuk and you, huh?” he said, his voice laced with a bitter mockery.
You rolled your eyes. “And how is that your business?”
“Everything about you is my business,” he replied, his voice hard, unyielding.
You rose, slowly, deliberately. He quickly straightened, the mighty warrior who faced the most fearsome beasts without a flinch now seemed to fear, a comical tremor in his stance.
“I don’t think so, Neteyam. I think you’re doing just fine in the past weeks.” You mocked, a cruel edge to your voice. “What is it the hunters say? Oh, you and Lenara. I can see how perfect of a match it is. I can’t wait for you two to mate,” you said, voice thick with sarcasm.
You turned, attempting to walk past him, but his hand shot out, grabbing your arm, pulling you back with a jolt. You sprang back, a toy on a string.
“Do not listen to what they say because I don’t care for her,” he said, his voice hard as stone, his eyes, dark and intense, pinning yours. “I can’t even properly eat and sleep, so depraved of you, thinking about what’s gotten into you that you’ll throw us away just like that and then I’ll see you with Raynuk? Do you want that boy to be thrown out of here?”
You saw the truth in his words. His pale skin, the shadows beneath his eyes, spoke of genuine suffering. Your eyes widened at his threat though. “Neteyam!” you reprimanded, a sharp gasp. “How can you say that?! Raynuk is a good and loyal hunter of the clan—”
He groaned, cutting you off. “What did you two talk about? I saw him. He hugged you…” His voice, raw and hoarse, betrayed his desperation.
“He asked to court me,” you shrugged, feigning indifference.
“And you rejected him?” he asked, his voice strained, on the precipice.
“Nope,” you answered, a wicked satisfaction blooming in your chest as his eyes flared, a dangerous fire igniting within. His hand on your arm tightened, pulling you against him, the sudden contact stealing your breath. “It’s time I accept suitors—”
“Don’t you love me anymore?” he asked, the vulnerability in his voice so palpable, so raw, it caught you off guard. The sharp humor vanished, replaced by a sudden, aching sorrow. This was no time for games.
You looked away, unable to meet his gaze, unable to answer. He tugged at your arm, forcing your eyes back to his.
“I love you so much and I always will, but I do know when to stop. If you truly want me out of your life, then say so,” he said, his voice etched with pain, his eyes pleading.
You couldn’t answer. He huffed, an impatient, anguished sound.
“I don’t know what’s making you act this way, but I wish to know, baby, so I could fix it. We are good, babe, don’t throw this away,” his voice cracked, anguish thick in the air.
“Yeah, we are good. I am good. Especially on my back, for your pleasure,” you pushed against his chest, tried to pull your arm away, but his grip tightened, unyielding. “But not just on my back, right? Sometimes on my hands and knees, on top of you, or—”
“What?” he sounded enraged, his voice a low growl. “Do not ever say that, not when you are everything to me—”
“I don’t think so,” you said, looking at him, your lips pulled down, tears pooling in your eyes. “Two years, Neteyam. Two years we were together but not once did you ask me to be your mate! This is pathetic but it is true—”
“No, it’s not true. I want you to be my mate, to be truly mine, but the council—”
“Yes! The council. Your parents. Do what they want, as you have always done, perfect soldier! Dutiful son. Mate Lenara, like what they want you to do! Leave this behind! Forget about me and I shall find my own path!”
He stared at you, seething with anger. Not at the insults hurled at his person, but at the idea of you finding your own path. Your paths were intertwined, for all he cared.
“And find your own path how?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.
You tilted your head, a smirk playing on your lips. “Well, first, I’ll accept Raynuk’s courtship,” you said, the words dripping with nonchalance. “Perhaps I’d like him enough to mate him—”
He produced a sound, a guttural growl that vibrated through the air. He stepped closer, towering over you, and a shiver ran down your spine. You swallowed, once again confronted with how massive he really is.
“And you think I will allow you?” he asked, his voice a silken threat.
“You have no choice,” you spat, defiant.
“For that alone, I’ll add Raynuk to the team that will set out for the Aranahe clan tomorrow. He’ll be gone for six moons…” He paused, his eyes gleaming with a predatory confidence. “And by the time he comes back, you’d be swollen with my child.”
You pushed against him, but he didn’t budge, a mountain of muscle and determination. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him. Your breath hitched as you felt his hard, thick cock press against your midriff.
“That was the reason, huh? You left me because you think I’ll follow my parents’ order to mate with whoever they desire?”
You rolled your eyes. “Isn’t it true? You always did your duty,” you said, a bitter accusation.
“Not when it comes to this. Not when it means I’ll live a miserable life away from you. Not when it means I’ll live in agony watching you with someone else,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, raw with truth.
You tore your eyes away, unwilling to believe that he will disobey the council and his parents... all for you. But still, a tremor ran through your body at the thought of it. You wished with all your heart that it was true.
His hand snaked behind you, pulling you even closer, his erection insistent against your skin. “You are too young, yawntu, you and Kiri always talked about not mating young. I thought that wasn’t your preference.” He squeezed your waist, regret vibrating through his touch. If only he had known your true desire in those two years, he would have ensnared you sooner.
“Excuses. Your mother had you at nineteen!” you retorted.
He laughed, a rich, deep sound, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His hand caressed your back, a soothing rhythm. “Is that so, hm? Did you want a baby at nineteen, too?” he asked, a playful glint in his golden eyes.
You glared at him, your anger warring with a sudden, unexpected warmth.
“I want nothing else but that, too…” he said, his other hand rising to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. “It’s not too late, you know… you’re only twenty.” He smirked, bending at the waist, bringing his face closer to yours. His lips, soft and tentative, grazed yours. You didn’t pull away, didn’t push him back. He released a shuddered breath of relief, pressing another series of kisses, light and tender. “I love you so much…” he whispered, pulling back just enough to gaze into your eyes. “Do you love me?”
Your lips pushed forward, your eyes fixed on his mouth, longing evident in their depths. “Yeah…” you mumbled.
He inhaled shakily, as if that single word had been the air he desperately needed. “I need the words,” he said, indulging you, indulging himself.
“I love you…” you mumbled again, softer this time.
A huge smile broke across his face, lighting his eyes. “I love you more, baby,” he said quickly, fiercely. “How much?” he followed up.
“So much…” you said, rolling your eyes, but a smile touched your lips. He only chuckled.
“So much?” he pressed, and you nodded. “Mate with me then, right now. If you love me so much,” he dared, his voice a challenge and a plea.
Your wide eyes snapped to his. “This isn’t a joke, Neteyam,” you said, the seriousness of his request settling over you.
“I am not joking. Mate with me. Right now,” he insisted, his serious eyes fixed on yours, unwavering.
“T-The council…” The irony of your own words, your own fears, echoed in your mind.
“I’ll handle them,” he said, dismissing the unseen authority with a wave of his hand. “Right now, I need you to be mine. Truly, in every sense of the word.”
You stared up at him. He tilted his head, waiting for your answer, his gaze burning into yours. You nodded, a slow, deliberate movement. A huge smile once again spread across his face. He breathed a relieved sigh.
“Thank you, baby,” he whispered, cupping your face, kissing you hard, deeply.
He pulled you away from the river into the depth of the forest until you two reached the ancient, sacred heart of the forest, the Tree of Souls. Its majestic presence, adorned with bioluminescent tendrils, never fails to fill you with awe. He led you beneath its shimmering embrace, turning to you, his smile wide, his lips finding yours again. You smiled into the kiss, a warmth spreading through you, chasing away the lingering chill of sorrow.
His forehead furrowed, his eyes serious as they searched for yours. “Yawntu… I want you to know that there was never a hesitation, nor have I ever had any second thoughts about where you stand in my life,” he said, taking your hand and pressing it against his chest, against the strong beat of his heart. “You have always been the it for me. I love you very much, so please believe what I say.”
You smiled, tears pooling in your eyes, blurring his face. “I believe you, Neteyam…” you mumbled, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry that I have been too petty, that in thinking I was doing us good, I ended up hurting you and in the process, hurting myself. Instead of talking to you, I proceeded to just end it and…” A sob tore at your throat. “It was the worst moons of my life. I thought I would never be with you again…”
He groaned, pulling you into a tight, crushing hug, hushing you with soft whispers. “It’s all over, baby… and we weren’t separated that long anyway. Good thing I don’t know how to stay away from you, huh?”
You chuckled, remembering his stubborn persistence. “I secretly loved it…” you confessed, your voice muffled against his chest.
He laughed breathily. “Good,” he grinned, lowering his head to kiss you. “You won’t be able to get rid of me. Never.”
You choked a laugh, groaning dramatically. “I guess I’m doomed, huh?”
He smirked, his eyes twinkling. “To a lifetime of being loved unconditionally.” He sealed the words with a kiss.
You grinned against his lips, kissing him back hotly, your hands roaming the expanse of his muscled body, humming with appreciation for what you could touch. You pushed him against the rough bark of the Tree of Souls, and he groaned at your aggression, his arousal spiking. You fumbled with the ties of his loincloth, untying it with urgent fingers until he stood naked before you. You pushed him down, until he sat on the ground. You looked down at him, then slowly shed your top, revealing your round, full breasts to the soft, ethereal light.
Next, your loincloth. You untied it with deliberate slowness, watching his hard, thick cock twitch upwards despite its weight. You licked your lips at the sight, kneeling and crawling towards him. His hands found your waist as you neared, lifting you effortlessly, plopping you onto his lap, your legs straddling him, his cock already aiming for the tight hole of your pussy, desperate for the tight sheath of your warmth.
“No,” you protested, pushing against his chest and lifting your hip up to avoid the head of his cock as he lined it to enter you.
He looked at you, a soft groan escaping his lips. He gripped his cock, as if to placate it as he reluctantly released you.
“There’s something I want to do to you…” you said, pushing him gently against the tree, positioning yourself on all fours between his legs.
He watched you, his eyes filled with lust, a drunken smile on his face, allowing you to take control. You lowered your head, kissing the base of his shaft, licking your way up to its head which you then gave a deep suck, making him groan. You reached for your queue behind you. The pink tendrils moved on their own, rising. He quickly reached for his own, thinking you would make tsaheylu, but instead, you guided your queue to the wide head of his dick. You felt the tickle of it, your knees almsot buckling from the sensation it gave you. But as you watched his eyes dilate, his lips parting, the muscles of his abdomen contracting, you could tell he was more pleasured.
That satisfied you, watching his dick swell even larger and harder. You didn’t take your eyes off him as you lowered your head again, your ass still high in the air. You licked the length of it, the tendrils of your queue embracing the head. You sucked at the thick ridge on the underside of his cock. He made sounds, deep and pleasured, and you caressed the skin of his inner thigh. His hands had fallen to his sides, his own queue forgotten. You took it, bringing it close to your breast until the tendrils embraced it, and he groaned loudly, his hips buckling.
“Fuck! Fuck, baby…” he moaned, his hand flying to your shoulder as bolts of electricity shot through his spine.
You removed your queue from the head, wrapping it around his balls instead, so your mouth could suck on the head. You sucked and twirled your tongue, your eyes locked on his. His mouth gaped perpetually, releasing shuddered breaths, moaning your name as his face cortort in pleasure.
You pleasured him with your mouth, taking him whole as you had done countless times before, your body instinctively knowing how to accommodate him. When he came, he came so hard, his cum spilling from your mouth, dripping down your chin. You swallowed everything, humming happily, your tail wagging as if you're savoring your most cherished food.
You licked the sides of your mouth as you rose. Neteyam reached for your face, scooping the drip from your chin with his thumb, bringing it to your mouth. You sucked his thumb clean, and he stared at you, his lips parted and his eyes gleaming with wonder and desire.
“Good?“ you asked, licking your lips.
His lips curled into a lopsided smile, his hand falling on your breast, pinching a nipple. “It was mind-blowing, baby,” he said in a hoarse voice. “So. Fucking. Good.”
He was leaning against the bark, looking spent and weak, reeling from your ministrations, but quickly he regained his strength, pulling you to him, effortlessly maneuvering you into the straddling position he had you in earlier. Your legs spread wide, your body slightly slanted as he cradled you in his arm. He lowered his head, taking one of your breasts into his mouth, while his queue stimulated the other. You reached for his cock, gripping it, caressing its length and he jolted, his teeth clamping down hard on your breast.
“Aw!” Your hand flew to his shoulder as you arch your back, your breast seeking comfort from the sharp pain brought by his teeth.
“Fuck, sorry, baby...” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your breast before licking the outline of his teeth around your nipple, then sucking it softly. You cradled his head, caressing the braids on his nape. He lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire as he perused your form, laid out for him like a feast. He detached his queue from your breast and you smiled, detaching yours from his dick. He brought his queue up, showing you the pink tendrils, and when you leveled yours with his, he made no delay in touching his kuru with yours, making the tsaheylu.
You both gasped, a jolt of unexplainable sensation pulsing through your bodies. The warmth and lightness in your heart brought tears to your eyes, though your brain couldn't fully comprehend the intensity. All his feelings: the love, the longing, the frustration... It coursed through you. You smiled when you saw a vision of yourself by the river, a younger you, looking over your shoulder and smiling huge.
That image made your heart beat faster, and you realized it was the beat of his own heart, his feelings for that particular memory. It was the very moment he fell in love with you years back and it’s the image he keeps going back to. You were so radiant, so beautiful as a halo of light surrounds you. You are his own heart.
You peered at Neteyam, seeing his dilated eyes, a soft smile on his lips. “I see you, my love…” he said with wonder.
You smiled, tears tracing paths down your cheeks. “I see you, ma ‘teyam…”
He held your hand, bringing it to his lips. “I love you so much...” he said, forehead creased as if the intensity of his emotions is so overwhelming, it’s making his face contort.
A sob tore through your throat and you pulled yourself up so you could hug and kiss him, your heart filled with unspeakable joy. You pressed your forehead against his. “I love you, Neteyam. I love you so much.”
“Not possible. I love you so much more,“ he countered and you groaned, chuckling in the process.
“Show me?“ you said, biting your lip.
His eyes darkened, looking into your eyes as if challenging you before he brought you back to your earlier position, your upper body slanted, suspended in the air supported only by his arm around you, his hand hooked on your shoulder.
He grabbed his dick, giving it a few pumps before lining it up with your pussy. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for his entry. When he entered, he entered completely in one go, pushing into you while his other hand on your hip pulled you to him, stretching your tight walls with a delicious thickness. He groaned at the same time you arched your back, a startled yelp tearing at your throat.
“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby...“ he gritted his teeth, his face contorting with pleasure.
Your free hand found your breast, kneading it as the other caressed his bicep. “You’re not complaining, are you, my love? My best friend has not visited me in over a moon,” you feigned a pout as you squeezed around his girth.
He huffed a laugh, adjusting himself so he could start moving. “Did you miss him?” he humored you, his large hand covering your hand over your breast so he could help with the massage.
You pretended to think, but your face had already betrayed you when he started moving. “Ah, yes... I miss him so much,” you gripped his bicep, your other hand on your breast caressing down to move over your belly where he’s bulging. “Hi, bestie.” You chuckled, poking the bulge.
He squeezed your breast and laughed. “Want to see him go fast, baby?“ he asked.
You peered up at him with a seductive smile. “Yes... Wanna see him go fast so bad,” you said in a husky voice.
He raised a brow, adjusting his hands on your body, and then he thrusted, fast and hard, pulling your hips to him as hard as he pleases. You felt like a doll, body being used entirely for the pleasure of your husband and nothing aroused you better than the thought. He fucked you, harder than he ever had, and the sensations were heightened, intertwined by your mating. You felt what he felt. How your warm walls embraced his cock tightly, how good it felt for him. And he felt what you felt too, the stretch of his cock, the profound pleasure of everything.
He was insatiable. It was as if all the pent up energy he had during the moon you weren’t together begged to be released and you, the culprit, the very reason of both of your forced abstinence, shall receive it. And with great enthusiasm, you did. When you came in that position, coming down from his high didn’t even take long for he laid you on the ground, kissing you, your neck, your shoulders, your chest.
He pulled out of you with a wet pop, his still-hard cock standing in salute for you, both of you dripping with thick essence. The image made you feel so hot but he was busy kissing his way down your body, his fingers scooping every drop of cum that dripped out of you.
He brought it to your lips and you lapped at it, sucking in earnest. His lips found your slick inner thigh, kissing and licking, until he reached your wetness, kissing it with parted lips, sucking on your soft folds. Your hips bucked and he held it down, curling both hands on your parted thighs as he ate you out with extreme vigor— licking, sucking, and nipping at your folds.
You were a trembling and crying mess by the time he was done with you, but he wasn’t truly done for he kneeled between your legs, hovering over you and you were once again lost in a daze by how majestic he looks. Bigger and broader than any warrior you know that the expanse of him could easily cover your body from sight.
He gathered your right thigh and hooked it around his forearm while he bent the other, leaving it on the ground before plunging into your heat once more and this time, you were given no adjustment because he delivered punishing thrusts in an instant, leaving you a moaning and crying mess.
You wondered if this is what Eywa ought to witness, for your moans sounded more like a sacrilege, and the Tree of Souls was filled with only that sound, mingled with his groans and grunts, and occasional dirty talks. You wondered even more if other Omatikaya couples had breached the threshold of freakiness here, too.
The first rays of Eywa’s light pierced through the tendrils of the Tree of Souls. During the day, when it’s not glowing, it appears translucent, like waterfalls shining in the sunlight, a silent witness to the vows exchanged beneath its boughs. You stirred, a warmth radiating beside you, Neteyam’s arm a heavy band across your waist. A shiver traced your spine, not from the morning chill, but from the enormity of what you two had done.
You shifted, pressing a kiss to the warm skin of his shoulder. He hummed, pulling you tighter, his scent, a mix of forest, musk, and something uniquely him, enveloping you.
“We should go,” you whispered, the words catching in your throat. Your voice felt raw, unused.
He loosened his hold, tilting his head to look at you, his golden eyes still heavy with sleep, yet alight with a profound contentment. A smile touched his lips, slow and tender. “Not yet.”
“They’ll be looking for us,” you insisted, a knot of nerves tightening in your stomach. “My mother… she’ll be frantic.”
He traced the line of your jaw with a thumb. “I’ll handle her. She’ll know you are safe, you are with me.” His tone held an unshakeable certainty, a quiet strength that both soothed and unnerved you. He truly believed it, didn’t he? That being with him was all the explanation needed.
You pushed yourself up, gathering the loincloth that had been carelessly discarded. “She won’t see it that way. Not when the council…” You trailed off, the weight of their expectations pressing down.
He sat up, his movements fluid, powerful. The morning light caught the planes of his chest, the ripple of muscle beneath his skin. He reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “I will handle the council. They have no choice when you are my choice.” His voice held a note of steel, a promise.
You shook your head, pulling your hand free to smooth down your hair. “You say that as if it’s a simple matter. It isn’t. You know it isn’t.” You looked around the sacred space, the serene beauty of it suddenly feeling like a fragile bubble about to burst. “This… this was just for us. The world outside…”
You felt the irony of what you’re saying. You questioned what you thought was his complete obedience to the council and now that he showed you that he will disobey whatever in the name of having you, you felt the weight of it.
He rose, towering over you, his shadow falling across your form. He reached out, cupping your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “The world outside cannot change what is inside here.” He tapped your chest, then his own. “We are mated, yawntu. Before Eywa. Nothing else matters.”
“It matters to my mother,” you countered, stepping away from his touch, the coolness of the morning air against your skin a stark contrast to his warmth. “It matters to the council. It matters to your parents.”
He sighed, a low rumble in his chest. “They will see. They will understand.” He moved towards you, his presence a comforting heat at your back. “Do not worry about anything. I will handle it all.”
Your forehead creased as you looked up at him. “What can I do? You shouldn’t handle all of these on your own.”
He tilted his head and smiled a radiant one. “You’ll focus on not stressing yourself so you’ll conceive faster,” he smirked. “We have a deadline here.”
You laughed despite yourself and he grinned at you, holding your hand tightly. You walked back through the forest, the familiar path feeling alien under your feet. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, sent a fresh wave of anxiety through you. Neteyam, beside you, strode with an easy confidence, his hand holding yours firmly. His warmth was a constant anchor, but it couldn't entirely quell the tremor in your heart.
As Hometree's colossal roots came into view, a splash of vibrant colors caught your eye. A group of children, small figures darting between the thick roots, played a game of tag. Tuk, her braids flying, chased after a slightly older boy, her laughter echoing through the morning air.
One of the boys who admired Neteyam as a warrior caught sight of the two of you, stopping mid-run and calling out, “Neteyam!”
The children froze, turning towards you. Tuk’s eyes, wide and bright, landed on you, then on Neteyam, her head cocking to the side. The male friend, a boy named Korin who often trailed Neteyam like a shadow, pointed.
“Neteyam!” Korin’s voice, though high-pitched, carried a clear note of awe. His gaze flickered between your joined hands and Neteyam’s beaming face. “Are… are you two mated?”
You felt your cheeks flush, a sudden heat rising. You squeezed Neteyam’s hand, a silent plea for discretion.
Neteyam, however, grinned, a flash of white teeth against his blue skin. He tightened his grip on your hand, pulling you a fraction closer. “Yes, little brother.” His voice was deep, resonant, brimming with pride. “Y/N is now mated to me.” He winked at the boy, a playful glint in his golden eyes.
A collective gasp rose from the children. Tuk, her eyes wide as saucers, bounced on the balls of her feet. “Yes! Does this mean Y/N is now my sister?” She launched herself at you, wrapping her small arms around your waist, burying her face against your hip.
You laughed, a genuine, joyful sound that surprised even yourself. You knelt, hugging her back, the simple innocence of her question a balm to your frayed nerves. “Yes, Tuk,” you murmured into her hair. “Yes, it does.”
A sudden, sharp voice cut through the children’s excited chatter. “Oh, Y/N! There you are!”
Your head snapped up. Your mother, Ni’alu, emerged from the shadow of a root, her usually serene face etched with worry, her shoulders hunched. She hurried towards you, her eyes fixed solely on your face. “I was so worried about you, you stubborn child! You didn’t come home last night!” She reached you, her hand already reaching for your arm, her gaze not even registering the large, blue figure standing protectively close.
“Mother!” you protested, trying to pull away.
But her grip was firm. She pinched your side, a familiar reprimand from your childhood. “Where were you, child?” Her voice was laced with a mixture of anger and relief. She aimed for your other side, her gaze still not quite focusing.
Neteyam stepped forward, his broad frame interposing itself between you and your mother’s next pinch. Only then did her eyes finally land on him. Her jaw dropped, her hand freezing in mid-air. Her gaze traveled up his towering height, her expression shifting from anger to utter shock.
“Neteyam?” she breathed, the word barely a whisper.
He offered her a smile, one that usually disarmed even the most formidable warriors. You knew, however, from the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw, the slight tension in his shoulders, that he was nervous. Only you could pick up on those subtle tells. “Good morning, Ni’alu,” he said, his voice steady, respectful. “I am the reason she didn’t come home last night.” He paused, his gaze meeting yours for a fleeting moment, a silent promise passing between you. “I… Well, we mated.”
The children, who had been watching in stunned silence, gasped again. Tuk, still clinging to your leg, bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly.
Your mother’s lips parted, her eyes wide with something akin to horror. “You… you mated with my daughter?” Her voice rose in pitch, a tremor running through it.
Neteyam nodded, his expression unwavering. “I have loved your daughter since we were children, Ni’alu. And if you’ll allow me, I’ll ask for you and for Taylan’s blessing.”
She staggered back a step, releasing a nervous, almost hysterical laugh. “What of the council, Neteyam? My daughter is not Tsakarem! We are only weavers!” The words tumbled out, a desperate plea for reason in a world suddenly turned upside down.
Neteyam shook his head, his hand reaching out to steady her, his touch gentle but firm. “It will be handled, Ni’alu.” His voice was calm, resolute, a mountain against her rising tide of fear.
The walk into Hometree felt like a procession. Your mother, still reeling, led the way, her steps uncertain. She made a beeline for Mo’at’s tent, her usual composure utterly abandoned. Neytiri, by chance, was already there, her face a mask of quiet contemplation as she listened to her mother.
Neytiri’s eyes, sharp and discerning, swept over you and Neteyam as you entered, your hands still clasped together. A flicker of understanding, then concern, crossed her features. She needed no words.
“I will first apologize for my daughter’s recklessness, Mo’at, Neytiri,” your mother began, her voice a torrent of anxious words. “But she mated with Neteyam—”
“Do not apologize, Ni’alu.” Neteyam’s voice, cold and firm, cut through your mother’s frantic speech. Jake, summoned by Tuk at Neteyam’s quiet instruction, arrived, his presence a solid anchor beside Neytiri. Neteyam’s gaze, now fixed on his parents and Mo’at, held an unwavering resolve. “I asked her to mate with me because I could no longer spend time away from her, without her truly being mine. I have always loved her, and if you know me, you’ll know that, too. No council could ever decide against my desire to have her as my mate, so I won’t apologize for this decision. And I expect you all not to make my mate apologize for this, either.”
He looked at his parents, his expression demanding their understanding, their acceptance. Jake watched his son, a slow smile spreading across his face, a nod coming almost instantly. Pride swelled in his eyes.
Neytiri, however, the one whose approval you craved and feared most, stepped forward. Her gaze, fierce and penetrating, locked onto yours. “And you allowed that, Y/N?” Her voice was low.
You met her gaze, your lips trembling. The words caught in your throat. How could you explain the whirlwind of emotions, the sudden, desperate certainty that had driven you?
“No ceremonies? No blessings from the Tsahik?” she pressed, her eyes narrowing.
You swallowed, finding your voice, though it was still a little shaky. “It makes no matter, Neytiri. I love Neteyam, and we mated before Eywa. That much is a blessing in itself.” Your words held a quiet strength, a conviction that surprised even you.
A slow smile broke across Neytiri’s face, a breathtaking sight. She glanced at Mo’at, who stood serene and composed, as though she had seen this moment coming for a lifetime. Mo’at’s eyes, ancient and wise, met yours, a gentle understanding shining within them.
“I will now give my blessings,” Mo’at said, her voice a soft murmur, yet it resonated with immense authority. “Y/N. Neteyam.”
Neteyam squeezed your hand, pulling you closer to Mo’at. Everything happened in a rush, a dizzying blur of movement, much like the mating itself. You knelt before the Tsahik, Neteyam beside you, his presence a steadying force. Mo’at’s ministrations were swift, the ancient chants and sacred gestures flowing around you, enveloping you in a cocoon of tradition and acceptance. It felt quick, almost too quick for such a profound ritual, but the depth of its meaning was undeniable.
Midday, the air in Hometree bristled with unspoken tension. Neteyam was summoned to a council meeting. The news of his mating had spread like wildfire, reaching Lenara’s father, who, as you suspected, sought an immediate explanation. The gathering was formidable: the elders, Lenara herself, her parents, Neytiri, Jake, and Mo’at.
“Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan,” Rama, a female elder with eyes like polished obsidian, began, her voice crisp, unyielding. “When you were eighteen, you agreed to a consensus with the elders. That once you are twenty-two, you will have been mated to a woman of our choosing. A full cycle has passed since what was agreed upon. And now we hear that you are mated. But she is not the council’s choice.”
Neteyam let out a silent sigh, almost imperceptible. “Such is the case, Elder Rama,” he confirmed, his voice calm, even.
“Then it is clear that the son of Toruk Makto is not a man of his words?” the elder pressed, a hint of accusation in her tone.
“The council has chosen Lenara for you, Neteyam,” Lenara’s mother interjected, her voice tight with thinly veiled anger.
“I didn’t agree to anything that involved Lenara or any other woman,” Neteyam’s answer was swift, cutting.
“May we know what it is with Lenara that you do not agree with, Neteyam?” another elder, Karim, inquired, his voice laced with patronizing curiosity. “She is a better fit for you; a proven skilled huntress. She has a sharp mind and could also prove to be a competent Tsakarem.”
Neteyam shook his head. “It is not that there is anything about Lenara that I do not agree with, Elder Karim. She is a skilled huntress, as you say, and a good colleague. It is only that my heart has long chosen another.” His gaze flickered to his mother, then to Jake, a silent plea for understanding.
“Such disobedience among the young these days!” Lenara’s father thundered, his face darkening. “The future Olo’eyktan fails to follow through to his words and obey what the elders see fit for him! Where is your loyalty, boy? Where is your heart?”
“Hear, hear! How can we trust a future leader that is already showing such obstinate nature and disregard of better judgment—” another elder chimed in, the words echoing the sentiment of disapproval.
Peeved at their choice of words, their clear implication that he had made a mistake, Neteyam’s voice thundered, cutting through the rising tide of discontent. “What is this ‘better judgment’ you speak of? What do the elders see for me that I cannot see for myself? You speak of my loyalty and my heart, yet you fail to see and consider to whom they truly belong, and with whom they would flourish to help me better myself. Among this council, it is only I who knows what would help me grow and keep me strong. For so long, I have resolved to obey the council when it comes to it. But how can I do that if it means I’m going to live a miserable life with my heart outside my body? Could I truly function as your leader if I were a hollowed shell, away from the woman I love with all of me? Now, if you see it fit that I am removed in the line of succession, then so be it. But I will not apologize for the decision I made simply because I loved.”
Mo’at squeezed Neytiri’s hand, a silent message passing between them. Neytiri smiled at her mother, both of them swelling with pride for the boy he once was and for the man you had made him to be.
“Neteyam, there is no need for that,” Jake immediately said, stepping forward, his voice firm, unwavering. “My son has chosen. And we know that it is not always that he allows wants or impulse to dictate his decisions. He chooses his battles, and he rarely chooses wrong. I understand that the council might think it better that they choose for him, but my son is fully capable of choosing for himself, too. And I am asking for the council’s leave to grant my son this one.”
“Is there anything to grant? Your son is already mated,” one of the elders said with a chuckle, the tension in the room easing slightly. “I guess what’s better fit to do now is to wait for his child, and I think this one won’t be a long wait?”
A ripple of laughter spread through the hut, the collective mood lightening. Neteyam himself allowed a small smile to touch his lips, the tension in his shoulders finally loosening. That won’t be long, he promised silently, though he didn’t voice it. He wanted nothing more than to go to you now that the council was adjourned.
He walked out of the hut, but Lenara’s voice calling his name stalled him. He turned to face the huntress who now looked annoyed, her nose twitching as she smelled the potent smell of you from Neteyam. The same smell she smelled from him when they set out for the hunt. She hadn’t smelled it in weeks, and now, it was even thicker, mixed with the smell of a mated bond.
“Yes, Lenara?”
Lenara fixed him with a hurt glare. “I want to know, Neteyam, if it was true that there was nothing you don’t agree with with me... If it was true, then you would have considered... Considered taking me as your mate. We are good, I have known you my whole life, we trained together, fought together. What does she even know? She’s years younger than you, she doesn’t do what you do. I don’t know why you just can’t see me.“ she snapped.
She rambled so fast, laying down all her arguments that Neteyam felt dizzy. “Lenara, it was true. There’s nothing that I don’t agree with with you, but that doesn’t mean anything. That’s how I see most colleagues of mine. It doesn’t warrant consideration of you being my mate, not when I am already in a long-term relationship with Y/N who has always been the only woman I see. You and I, Lenara, are colleagues. Teammates. For the clan. Y/N is my woman and it doesn’t matter if she knows what I do because she knows me better than anyone,“ he told her.
“Well, you didn’t allow me to know you,” Lenara countered. “I like you, Neteyam... And I was thinking we could—”
“What do you like about me?“ he asked.
Her lips parted a little, surprised that he would ask that. “Y-You’re a good leader... A skilled hunter and warrior... And you’re more handsome... and hotter than most men in the clan,“ she answered, her cheeks burning purple as she said the last statement.
Neteyam sighed and tilted his head. “Lenara, I think you know what you liked more. You don’t like me, you like this illusion you think I represent. Those are titles I carry in the clan but those alone don’t represent me. Even if you think you can see a future with me now, that would be you lying to yourself. Don’t wallow in what you think is heartbreak following what happened. You don’t know me, you don’t like me, what you’re feeling is regret from being stripped off a title and position in the clan you believe should belong to you. You’re an ambitious woman and I don’t fault you for that, but with my wife... Those titles you spoke of is what complicate things between us. She hated those and if she could have me without them, she’d like that better.”
Lenara looked down, wrangling her hands. She closed her eyes and sighed, as if some sense was knocked into her. “Oh, I’m sorry, Neteyam...“ she gasped for sharp air. “For everything I said. For questioning your relationship with Y/N. I was stupid, and perhaps, you are right. My parents... They expect things from me... And in the process of doing what they want me to do, I lost sight of what’s truly important.”
Neteyam shook his head, feeling bad for the girl. “I’m sorry about that, Lenara. I hope you can find your own path someday. For now, take care, Lenara.“ he said before walking away.
During those tense hours, you sat in the central clearing with Kiri and Tuk, a knot of nerves in your stomach, yet an unshakeable trust in Neteyam. You watched as the hunting party assembled, preparing for their journey to the Aranahe clan. Your eyes scanned the familiar faces, and there, among them, was Raynuk. Your head tilted. Neteyam… that scoundrel had indeed manipulated things to add Raynuk to this party! A small, knowing smile touched your lips.
A few hours later, a wave of relief washed over you as you saw your husband emerge from the council hut, his face no longer etched with the strain you’d seen earlier. A huge grin spread across his face, confirming that nothing dire had transpired. You smiled, rising to meet him, your hands pressing against his chest, caressing the soft skin as you encircled your arms around his neck.
He settled both hands on the curve of your waist, pulling you against him, and bent to kiss you hard, his lips demanding, possessive. “We ought to make up for the time lost in that meeting,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice thick with desire. “In those hours, I could have had you in ten different positions.”
You smacked his chest lightly, a laugh bubbling up. “We can do that tonight,” you grinned, angling your head to kiss his jaw.
He groaned. “Tonight?!” he asked dramatically. “We’re losing so much action due to all of this council drama...” he mumbled, nuzzling his cheek against yours.
You chuckled. “You have all of me now, Neteyam. Always... We have all the time in the world.” you promised him, your hand pressing against his chest.
Always true to his words, Neteyam’s words about Raynuk proved to be prophetic for six months later, when Raynuk returned from the Aranahe clan, his face etched with the weariness of a long journey, still harboring a faint, lingering hope. He approached Hometree, the communal clearing bustling with energy as the festivities of their arrival welcomed them, scanning the familiar faces, searching for yours. He had imagined you waiting, perhaps, now ready to consider his courtship.
He sought you out, a hopeful glint in his eyes, but his steps faltered as he saw you. You stood by the dais, where the Sully family took their seat during festivities and communal meals. Your hands resting gently on the prominent curve of your belly as you watched something in the crowd.
And then as if on cue, Neteyam rounded the dais, his hand filled with food that you eyed with excitement. He put it down on the table, standing beside you, his hand snaking possessively around your waist, his golden eyes, usually so sharp, softened with an overwhelming tenderness as he looked at you. He was broader, even more muscled, a mountain of a man, radiating an aura of fierce contentment.
Raynuk’s gaze flickered between your swollen belly and Neteyam’s proud, unwavering stance. Your eyes found Raynuk, feeling the stare and although you knew that the festivities are held for the party dispatched for Aranahe, it completely slipped your mind that Raynuk was among them.
You offered him a smile and a nod. Neteyam, sensing you were looking at someone in particular, traced your line of vision and saw Raynuk. He remembered the one-sided beef he had with the hunter, the competition he fought without the other’s knowledge. Now, he still felt like the man poses a challenge, seeing how he looked at his wife, but then he realized that Raynuk was probably also seeing how swollen you are with his child.
He watched how a flicker of understanding, then resignation, crossed Raynuk’s face before the hunter offered a small, polite nod, then turned, walking away, the weight of a hope unfulfilled heavy on his shoulders. He was clueless of the declaration Neteyam made moons ago, but the sight before him spoke volumes.
Neteyam looked at you, a triumphant glint in his golden eyes. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "I told you," he whispered, his voice full of pride and love. "The next time he sees you, you’d be swollen with my child,“ it was a soft, possessive murmur that sent a shiver of warmth through you.
You smiled, a contented sigh escaping your lips. You pressed a hand to your belly, feeling the gentle flutter of life within. “Well, you are diligent. It wasn’t really a surprise, my love,” you said with a chuckle.
No one is probably as determined as Neteyam on a mission. There was not a day you weren’t filled with his seed, even making you lie with a pillow beneath your hips, having heard from Norm that it’s the best way to conceive. And since the bond has opened your body for conception, it didn’t prove that much of a challenge that only a few weeks into your marriage and Mo’at has already taken notice of the frantic beating of the pulse on your neck, telling you it is a telltale of pregnancy.
Neteyam’s hand pulled you closer by the waist, his lips brushing against your temple. You leaned into him, your hand finding his, intertwining your fingers. The quiet hum of your connection, the steady beat of his heart against your back, the soft flutter of new life within you, it was all the answer you needed. Your path, it turned out, was always meant to be intertwined with his.
pairing outlaw!ryomen sukuna x baby mom afab!reader
synopsis it's been five years since you've seen him, and five years since you had his son. swooping back in like a bad omen, you welcome sukuna back into your home and into your life, and slowly start teaching him how to be the husband and father you need him to be.
tags western outlaw!au (set in early 1900's), gang!au, fluff, crude language, use of guns, smut, size and breeding kink (heavy descriptors), manhandling, breath play, lots of pillow talk, praise kink, use of nicknames (babe, girl, etc), nsfw
word count 12.5k
author's note thank god for adderrall, red dead, ishowspeed and my partner in crime for inspiring me to sit down with this idea. the first half of this fic was written the same week i developed this idea, just to dip my toes into it. now, i'm obsessed and excited/nervous/impatiently waiting to hear what u guys think ❤️ enjoyy
art by @/tessuesh!!
It hits you like a goddamn gut-punch, ripping you up from your dreams with an implication so clear, you could see your murky past through it.
Outside, the night is black as tar — wind spreads around the house like an omen, trying its hardest to block out the stomping hooves of a mare and the deafening crunch of rocks and soil under its monstrous feet. If you didn't sleep so close to the front of the house, you'd have been deafened to it all, but there's just something about being the last line of defense protecting your only son from the horrors of reality that wakes you with straight-backed fright. Breath caught in your lungs like fire, you assess the damning blackness of your room, barely able to make out the night through the dusty paneled window.
You have no idea what time it is — the moon is new, but the night isn't.
Outside the window you peered out of, the horse clatter comes to a slow, distant stall, hanging like a threat over your head that you have to swallow down in favor of getting up and getting your gun. There's no space for hesitating or tiptoeing around with a life like yours — rough around the edges, hanging with omens you hated confronting.
Your nightgown is stained with it. A gift from your past that you kept because you had no other choice. He's written in your DNA in more ways than one, and he's written all over the dusty double-barreled shotgun you reach for. You keep it in the chest at the end of your hay-stuffed bed, out of your son's hands and close enough to go for in perfect circumstances like this.
The metal creaks as you tuck the stock under your arm, breath picking up with the rushing wind. You can't hear much — surely not the same bustling that stirred you from sleep, but you trust yourself. You've got the ear of a mama lion, ready to jump into danger if it means protecting your cub from the evildoers that rise at night.
Your stomach flips as you move slowly through your room, dodging the faulty screws in the floor as you pull open the paneled door. The house is quiet — your son is asleep on the other side of the room, tucked safely behind his bedroom door, so you make your way to the front, not noticing just how long you've been holding your breath for.
Your bare toes grip the splintering wood as you reach for the rickety metal knob, sighing when it pulls open and the coolness of the summer night rushes against your exposed skin. Stepping down from the ledge onto the porch, you keep one foot inside, staring out to the darkness like the evildoer would just up and present himself to you.
"I don't know who you are, but you surely ain't got no business here!" You call, shivering against the whinny of a horse's snout. "I got a gun and I ain't afraid to use it!" Though your voice is unwavering, your knees are shaking. You lift the gun, finger pulsing against the sticky trigger that hasn't been fired in three years, but you don't shoot. Not yet.
Life seems to turn in slow-motion — your breaths are shaking, so loud in your ear that it's rattling your thoughts and distracting you from the crunch of footsteps drawing near. There's nothing on your mind or in your bones that doubts your abilities; you know you have to outlast this danger. Your son is too fragile — too much of a hot commodity with a last name and a reflection like his. Sukuna always warned you about this, and he isn't here, so you're happy to turn into something adjacent to his grit.
"Put the gun down."
Your heart stops, stilling in your chest and sucking all the blood from your limbs. He sounds like a ghost — frozen in time and thick around his accent and the cigarette smoke he relies on just like his cheap bourbon.
You can't see anything through the shadows, but you can feel his presence fall upon you like a ton of bricks, weighing and slowing you down through the darkness. Finger pressing the trigger a bit harder, you call again, unsure of yourself. "I don't know who you are, so you need to leave! Scram — now!"
"Feisty girl," He chuckles, boot pressing against rock and dirt as the stranger takes a few experimental steps to your front porch. Your heart is racing, now, feeling like your life might flash before your eyes if you don't just swallow it down and pull this trigger. Your baby could be alone if you can't gain the nerve — roped up into a life he can't handle just because you couldn't push down the mystery of your past. The thought of him makes your skin shiver, and he had no business back here, not really, so your fingers tighten around the double-barrel.
A moment passes — you still don't pull the trigger. Something tells you not to, like an omen from Heaven sent down to sit on your chest, bathed in the presence of the one you needed the most. That voice is just… It's too familiar.
His boot hits the bottom step, creaking and pulsing against his weight. "Now, what business you got goin' and havin' a baby on me?"
Sukuna steps into the shadows of your crooked, cracked porch cover, one foot on the bottom step and another on the middle. He sighs when he sees you again, hands on his hips as he lets out a satiated, steady hum. Even staring down your gun — stepping closer to it with each drag, he stands unshaken. You sure scare the Hell out of him, but your weapon doesn't.
"You ain't even tell me the poor bastard's name."
"Don't call my son that." You seethe, pushing the barrel into his chest as he crowds you. Sukuna tilts his head to the side as he studies your familiar face, aged five years, in the blackness of night. He wishes he had brought his lantern, but he opts to bow, sliding his hat off to respect your mystical presence once more. "I still hardly believe it's you."
"Is it the facial hair? Been neglectin' it recently, ain't gonna lie to you." There's that same cocky laugh hidden behind his tone that always seemed to linger as he aged. Sukuna scratches at the unkempt stubble around his lips, "Look, I've been meanin' to write you back—
"You shoulda stayed dead, Ryomen." Your voice is hot, controlled, and measured as you shove the end of your gun into his rock-hard chest with all your strength, yet he doesn't budge. He makes you so angry. "I didn't send you that letter to bring you crawling back to my doorstep."
"Uraume and Suguru told me about the money they've been giving you. Surely it's not all going into fixing up this dump."
You don't have much pride in these four walls, but it's all reflected in your resilience. These four walls saw your traumatic birth, witnessed the blood and grit, sheltered your baby's head, and supported his first footfalls. No — this isn't your home, it's your lifeblood. "It's going into raising and feeding my boy! Now get your sorry ass—
"Don't be like that, baby doll." He eases, guns length away as he smooths his arm over your tense, cocked shoulder. That moment of pause and unbreakable closeness stalls you just enough for him to reach for the gun, prying it easily out of your shaking grip. "There you are. Let me in to see the boy, hm? Got me standin' out here, covered to my toes in dust,"
"You see the boy, then you leave." You reach haphazardly for your shotgun hanging at Sukuna's side, flustered when he steps back just enough to keep it out of reach. You don't chase.
"Looks like you still know how to handle a gun after all these years."
"It's mine—
"So am I, hm? Yours? Gun gets to sleep at your bed end, but you own man can't?" He chuckles as he brings the weapon back to his chest, inspecting it closely in the dark. "It's about time I came back to you."
Your lip twitches as Sukuna pushes past you and into your sacred home. His boots leave their mark in the swept dirt — loose floorboards creaking around the rotting frame. Ashamed to say, and far too prideful to admit, you wouldn't be surprised if one wrong step sent Sukuna through the floor.
Swallowing it down, you turn and follow him closely. "You're five summers too late,"
"Got caught up in some mess heading westward. Toji's lady died right after birthin' his boy. He went crazy and skipped town for a few months, leaving us with him. Ah — I could go on, but that don't really matter, 'cause I'm here now, ain't I?"
"Just what business do y'all have here, now? Whitehall don't need more trouble, and certainly not by the likes of a bunch of rabid Sukuna's stealing all their shit." Your voice gets hot and high in your throat, hurling towards the back of his head
"Didn't you say there's a baby sleepin'? Do you yell at my son like that?"
"Your son? What have you done for that boy besides create him? You have some nerve, Ryomen." You hiss, stopping him before he takes a step closer to the pulled bedroom door where your son peacefully sleeps. A part of you wants to let him in — let him lay his eyes upon the truest, purest version of himself tucked under rawhide sheets, but the other part wants to tell him to leave and never come back.
It all comes to a head as he reaches for the crooked wood, an invisible smile curling over his chiseled, sinister lips. "For all I know, you coulda laid down with a scrawny little barn boy and birthed his kid."
"Even you don't believe that."
He keeps his voice low and gritty outside your son's room — hand hovering. It's a fleeting, dragging look that makes you feel feverish and shiny under his spotlight gaze. "You kept yourself mine all these years?"
"You're the only man I've ever touched." You speak, so sure of yourself that it's almost uncanny.
"Here." Sukuna pauses for a moment, reflecting on the statement he already knew was accurate. He presses the gun into your chest with strength lost on him, pushing you a step or two back. "And get me a lantern so I can actually see the boy."
"Any other demands?"
"Yeah. Have some respect." Sukuna waits with a cocked hip as you step back, thumb hanging against his holster as you back up and approach your tiny, dingy kitchen. His eyes are boring holes in your back when you bend over, shuffling through the bottom cabinet for an oil lantern you haven't touched in weeks. You and your boy sleep during the night — ain't no use for them when you're waking up as the sun starts shining again.
"I didn't like being away from you more than you liked being away from me."
"What?"
"Alls I'm saying is," Sukuna pauses, shuffling through his satchel for a book of matches, evading eye contact as you step in front of him, holding the lantern open so he can spark it. "Boy ain't gonna learn how to respect folk if his own mama can't even respect his daddy."
"I raised my son to be just as polite as they come." You flinch once the match strikes, erupting your close faces in the same orange glow of a small flame. Cupping it against his hand, Sukuna lowers it into the lantern, waiting for the fuel to catch before shaking the match out. "His first words were yes, ma'am."
Once he has you engulfed in lantern light, he smiles — genuinely. It's the first time he can study your face again, and he adores the lines of grit, sun, and anger written into your pores. Your soft skin bare of makeup, but doted on in the way only you can seem to manage. Your cheeks are smooth and full of love and life — plump and not emaciated like his. "He's a good boy, then. Our boy."
"Don't get too comfortable—
"Ah—" he takes the lantern from your grip, holding it out to see you and your familiar body, bare feet and loose against your cotton nightgown. He recognizes it. "Feel like I've touched that gown more than once."
"It's the one you got for me." You dip your head, not used to being so purely at attention after five years of funneling it all into your baby. "The summer I turned twenty-one."
"That was a good year." He chuckles, thinking back to your heated breaths pressed into the sticky, wet hay of your family barn, soaked to the core with rain and want for your returned outlaw. You spent twenty minutes with Sukuna afterward, picking the grains from your hair and teeth, too love-drunk to say anything but the obvious. The gown was a pity gift, sent to you after the fact to make up for tearing your old one in half. It lay tattered against the soiled hay, and he had to shed his outer layers to cover you back home.
"I kept them rags and had them sewn into my pillows. They always smelled as sweet as you. So clean, too."
"You could have kept that to yourself." It's hard to hold up your iron front when he's a breath away, huge body slumped at the shoulders so he can stare you down. You're swallowing and nervous, feeling like an old shell of yourself. "Your obsession knows no bounds."
"That was a joke…" Sukuna chuckles around his words, and it's real and tangible. Then, he doubles down, "Maybe."
"You ain't changed at all." You give him a meek, fleeting smile, and he reaches up to cradle your chin. For just a moment, feeling his feverish touch back on your skin, you feel five years younger. The weight of it all just crumbles and falls when he touches you again, pushing a contented sigh from your nose as you absentmindedly lean into his touch.
"Look at you — doing all the changin' for the both of us…" His voice sits low and rumbly in his chest, his big thumb crossing over your bottom lip as he holds you so gently. Sukuna's feeling your smile over his fingers, staring down at you, completely stale-faced — eyes blinking stars into your being that haven't been there for half a decade. "You think you can take me back, Lady?"
Though he's got you tongue-tied and halfway to devotion, that motherly bone bites at your ankles. "I don't want that gang mess around my boy." You're staring into his mean, dark eyes now, suddenly unafraid or finally growing used to his uncomfortable presence as he stares right back down.
His smirk fades into something neutral, brows furrowing as he pedals around what he knows he needs to say. "It's just me standing in front of you, ain't it? Not the whole gang?"
You challenge him further. "I don't want them around at all. I don't want them knowin' his name or anything about him. My baby is innocent."
It's not quite a yes, but Sukuna nods. "I hear 'ya."
"I need you to promise," you step forward towards your son's door as if you're keeping him safe from his huge, overbearing father. "To not talk about that with him at all."
"Damn, girl, I said I hear 'ya." He cocks his lips like he's disgusted with your pressing questions, not understanding that your son's life hangs in the very fragile balance between peace and crime. If it's his duty to live a life carrying his father's sins, he'd at least live a childhood tucked safely under you, not worrying about whether he'd have a safe pillow to lay his head on at night.
Wanting to believe Sukuna — feeling the overwhelming need to trust him sit on your chest, you swallow down a sigh, then eventually nod. "O-okay." You lead the way, and Sukuna lets you without even parting his lips to disagree. He understands that right now, you have the upper hand. Your home is sensitive and unsure, and he's nothing but a stranger in these four walls. Still, he waits with bated breath as you step past him to the cracked bedroom door.
As you step into the cool, dusty space, Sukuna crowds you from behind, the light from his cradled lantern reflecting rocking shadows through the wood-paneled room. He lets you lead the way to your son's low bedside, walking on your toes to muffle the creaking floorboards that Sukuna would wake on impact.
Stopping by the side of his bed, leaning over his small, sleeping frame, Sukuna lifts his lantern and concentrates it over the straw mattress. He can't see much; his son is facing the wall, but he can see the tuft of similarly colored light hair strewn across his cream pillows. A piece of his soul cracks, like he can't deny the little lanky body all wrapped up in his mother's sheets.
You smile, leaning over Yuji's frame to press a kiss against his cheek. "My Yuji. Our Yuji." You whisper, running your knuckle against his pearly, soft collarbone. You're not worried about waking him — your son is a good sleeper, you're just worried about frightening him. Though he's so resilient, catching field mice with his bare hands, the darkness and isolation still unnerve him.
"Yuji…" Sukuna tries the name on for size, his voice low and steady as he tries not to startle the boy with his own weariness. The situation feels impossible and brand new. Yesterday, he didn't even know he had a child — this evening, he's standing over his twin, shining, flickering light over his lady and his little boy, swallowing back the urge to shake his head in disbelief.
"See? Your boy." You stand up straight, an easy smile crossing your features as you look up at him. "A goddamn copy-paste of you. It's almost insulting after giving him my life for nine months, for him to come out looking like that."
Sukuna's lips tug into the smallest, slightest smile, letting you press into his side as you two linger and watch your son's chest rise and fall with REM. He hums in his sleep, whining and turning onto his back, cheek nuzzling into the side of his pillow. The movement renders the two of you absolutely motionless — hearts seizing in your chests like you're terrified of waking the beast and withstanding a dark night of constant childhood mania.
Holding the lantern tight in one hand, Sukuna wraps his other arm around the small of your waist, keeping you pressed into his sturdy body even when you want to run away. The small act of territory makes your blood heat and settle something familiar in your bones — something you don't want to run away from.
Looking up at him in passing, you give Sukuna a small, genuine smile. He doesn't see or reciprocate, eyes laser-focused on the way his son's gentle features twitch and absorb the light he keeps in his now-shaking hands. You can feel his nerves on your body, can read it in the tremble of the metal closures on the lantern. When you blink, you can hear the thickness of his spit slide down his throat as he swallows.
"Don't know whether I should be touched or threatened by the fact that you kept him away for all these years."
"I didn't keep him away; you just never came back."
"So, you go to Suguru and Uraume for help? Instead of the man who can be there for you?"
You pull away the second you hear a change in his tone, ready to beeline it out of the bedroom so the heightened feelings in the air don't reflect onto your sleeping angel. "They didn't tell you the half of it." Is all you decide to counter with, seething under your breath as you reach for the lantern.
Before your fingers can touch the iron, he pulls it out of arm's reach, making the flame bounce off the strength of his brow. In the darkness, Sukuna's already dark eyes feel sinister and calculating, demeaning you in a way he doesn't intend to push. It's just — Sukuna feels at home in your being, like he belongs and doesn't want to move or fight about it. So many questions came to the forefront when he finally understood the silent movement of money — how it went over his head so perfectly to be able to keep it going for so long.
Sukuna isn't stupid — he knows Suguru has a soft spot for him. It's a stupid soft spot. One that could cost him his life if he isn't careful.
Sukuna treats you with grace, following you out of the bedroom with easy precision. He measures his footfalls, knowing Yuji is stirring to the absentminded shift in presence. He doesn't want to wake him, believing he wouldn't be able to handle the onslaught of fatherhood so late at night.
Still, somehow, buried at your side, Sukuna thinks he'd be able to shoulder it. That thought brings about a wave of ease over his shoulders that he didn't know he needed, but he welcomes it. Just like he welcomes your soft smile once you click your son's door shut behind you.
He doesn't know what to say — neither do you. You smile. "Feeling tired?"
"Exhausted. I want you and your bed."
Crossing your tongue over your top row of teeth, you dip your gaze downward, burning with his unbridled closeness. You have every mind to sleep alongside the man you've dreamt about through your entire youth and womanhood, but there's only one thing holding you back.
Stepping in front of his huge, brooding figure, you turn your fists in the stretched cotton of his shirt, bunching the collar. The difference in height would be alarming if you hadn't known it all your life. Now, you treasure the space he leaves for you, finally blinking up and shaking your head. "You smelly old man."
"Ach," Sukuna clicks his teeth as you waddle to the doorway, leaning down to pick up the upside-down tin watering bucket. You keep it at the front — an easy way to get water from the well and back into the house with as few water-spilling steps as possible.
"We bathe inside. I'm not having my baby out in them elements, bare like that." You settle on before he can fully interrupt you, expecting one of his thorough man scoldings, or perhaps nothing at all. You don't know what to expect from this stranger who's made his way back into your house, but you know you love him. You know you need him.
Still, the tug of war for dominance wouldn't be easy, and it certainly wouldn't be won anytime soon. It's why you let Sukuna take that bucket out of your hands like you're incapable, his deep tone pulling you into the dull loop you've felt your entire life. "I'll get the water. You just make sure there's oil in that, there lantern."
"I was gonna start the fire so I can boil some hot water for you." You counter, breath-to-breath with him as he stoops to your level. His dark gaze flickers from your eyes, down to your swollen lips, then he smiles. "And then oil the lanterns in the washroom, so you've got some light."
"You're gonna take the clothes off my back and scrub them raw tonight, too?"
"Tomorrow." You bite, tone a bit too quick, too razor-sharp for what he needs right now. You can see it in his face when he crinkles it like Yuji does when he's frustrated. "But you're not gettin' in my bed with those on, I hope you know."
"This new attitude…" Sukuna starts, standing up straight with a looming, uneasy, shadowed gaze. His beard is longer now — nothing like what you've seen on him. With sunken eyes, a mean scowl, and settled in fine-lines, he's a… version of your Sukuna that you so desperately needed, but just didn't know how to be with, yet. "I don't know whether to love or hate it."
"My house, my rules."
He turns around, beginning to head back to the door. Swinging the bucket at his side, he regards you over the shoulder in passing, a smirk hidden behind his drawn-out words."You barely got a house to stand in. Gonna take me all summer to fix this place up."
"Well, who said I needed your help?"
Sukuna's worn-down boot-toe nudges at a lifted floorboard as he stalks towards the door — grunting without needing to say more. You know what that means, giggling in passing as he reaches for the rusted iron knob to pull it open.
"How long are you gonna stay?" You don't want it to sound like you're rushing him, because you wouldn't dream of it. His presence is cool, calculated, and freeing, though he has every mind to tie you down.
"Why don't you go 'head and fix up that fire, mm?" It's a polite way to tell you to shut up, and one you bend to without him saying another word. In time, you know his heart is due to open again — it'll be mean, at first, but when it turns into something beautiful, you'll swear you want to marry the man.
"T-the well is just to the left of the—
He doesn't cut you off with words, but instead with another dark chuckle that makes you furrow your brow. Then, he leaves you alone in your entryway, wrists crossed over your heart as his shadow fades into the darkness of the night. The maternal bone in your body claws and aches to run out there with a fueled lantern and light his dark path, but you know he wouldn't appreciate it.
So, you practice patience in the way only a mother can. You watch from the lingering, open door, tilting your head as he walks out of eye-shot and into the crunches of shed leaves and the whinny of horses.
Moments pass, then the familiar rickety creak of the well crank cuts through the night — Sukuna grunts. You smile as you step into the doorway. You lean on the frame, squinting and pretending you can see him fussing with the water, though he feels worlds away in the moment.
You're so caught up in a stupid, childish daydream of his broad back working to crank the sloshing water to the surface that you don't even remember to step back. The fire goes unlit — the pot ice cold, hanging above the dry, splintered wood like an insult to your honesty.
You stay there — everything stays the exact same as you hear footsteps crunching again, his steady groans backing the sound. Water splashes and falls in waves over the rim of the iron bucket as he walks up the stairs, smirking when he sees you waiting in the doorway like a wife.
"Got 'ya water, babe. Where do you want it?" He grunts, bicep flexing in the dim light as he holds the bucket up like a prize. It takes you a moment to snap back into him, meeting his smirk with a smile as you stand up straight and nod to him.
"Follow me. We wash in the back, here." You muse, voice honeyed and content — not rough with grit or dominance. It's a feeling of ease that's always lost on you, and it shows in the way you carry yourself through the thin back hallway.
There are only two doors — one hanging off the hinges, permanently cocked open, and too rusted over to fix. Then, there's the bedroom that you shut before investigating the noise that brought you here. It looms over your bodies as you lead him past the doors and into a back, tucked area of the home. It's not a room on its own, but it's private. It's enough.
"Right here…" You watch as he steps past you with that same old grunt, catching that manly whiff of him as he tosses the water into the lined, wooden basin. It's expertly cleaned since the last time it was used, and Sukuna can't say he's too surprised by this new neat leaf you turned over. He knows his twin is in good hands, even if your home isn't a mansion. "Now, to do it twenty-eight more times."
"You fucking kidding me?"
"Well, it usually takes me like forty trips. I'm just giving you the benefit of the doubt."
The room is lit, now. The basin steams with water, lifting off the surface of the bath water in sloping renditions of his name — your name.
Sukuna stands with his back to you, back flexing in the orange lantern light as he peels off his sweaty, clingy shirt. His hair is greasy, there's traveler's dirt on his brow, and a faint musk that just always smells like him. No bath could wash that away, and you wouldn't dare attempt it. You swallow down words unsaid as small, gathered scars that you've never seen before reflect the light. Some are deep and pink, fresh, and others aren't so brutal. You want to ask more, but can't.
The moment is quiet and impossibly still for the steady movement he's exerting. His breaths are heavy, wheezed and measured, and yours are invisible. He hands off his shirt to your waiting, outstretched hands, then turns around as his thick fingers get lost in the buttons on his waistband. He's shirtless — tall and hunched over you as he fusses and picks, taking a step closer as he feels your eyes trail across his bare chest. The hair on his chest fades into something sinisterly sexy as it trails down his thick torso, disappearing right before you can see where it all comes to a head.
You're staring shamelessly because he's your man, and because it's been years. You've been biting your pillow for five summers now, withering against the unbearable nights alone because he wasn't here to be a father and a partner. He decided on his guns and money because it's convenient — you aren't. No, you have too many rules.
But, as his zipper comes down, all of those rules fall by the wayside. You gulp as his pants open, then fall and gather at his knees. Sukuna stands bare in front of you with no qualms, letting you take in the deep nature of his crotch — the way it moves as he steps out of his pants and hands them off to you.
You both remain silent as he turns around, walks to the side of the basin, and offers you a passing look before stepping one foot into the warm water, sighing against the heat. "Oh, mm, this is nice. You spoil me."
"Good hygiene is a luxury for you, now?"
"Ain't got no lady in my pants to enforce it."
"That's a relief." You reply, walking to his side as he sinks down into the water slowly. He grunts and shifts, body too big to truly fit. Water rises against all sides of him, sloshing over when he moves. Still, you stand right next to him, letting your nightgown soak up the splashing water as you reach for lye soap and a rough rag. "Want me to wash you, big guy?"
"Ah…" Sukuna hums, arms dripping droplets over the side of the tub as he rests his arms on the lip. This feels like a spa for him as he tosses his head back, nodding wordlessly as you fuss around. "Go on ahead, babe. Can't promise I won't fall to sleep, though."
"As long as you promise to wake up and get in bed with me." You lay out the rug for him like it's sparkling and brand-new, treading through sensitive waters because you're not entirely sure just how much Sukuna still wants you. You've heard the horror stories — a woman bears a child, then the man turns his affections back to her. You don't want that… It's not even close to what you and Sukuna embody. His love language is touch, and yours is service. They meet so perfectly in the middle that not even childbirth or time could fracture it.
"Ah, you ain't gotta tell me twice." He shifts again, sending another wave of water into your breast as you lean over the tub, hands lost in the warm water. "Been dreaming of you since the last time I saw that face." Sukuna is droning on with his eyes closed, humming as you spread your soapy rag against his chest — soaping the fine hairs gathered there. "Been missin' you, girl, whether you believe it or not."
"All this sweet talk won't give us them five summers back."
"Crazy ass sheriff and Mayor got us by our asses." Sukuna's neck cracks as he rolls it, sighing as stress washes away with every gentle rub from your hands. "Didn't wanna risk'ya."
"No, you're sayin' that I wasn't worth the risk."
"It ain't like that." His eyes fall open, landing on you as you lean forward, up to your elbows in soapy water as the rag runs down his left thigh. "You know how many dangerous positions I threw myself in, just to give you your loving? Far too many to count."
"You're saying that like I'm the one crawling to your doorstep every summer."
"You said that's what you needed."
"I needed you to quit that gang and be mine." Your voices rise, but it's not in anger — it's laced with passion and beating hearts. There's so much to talk about — too much to focus on, so you focus on bathing him, letting the words come as they please. "And now that you've got a son…"
"I never wanted one."
"Well, you certainly didn't carry yourself like you didn't want children." You click your teeth, lips turning up into a smirk as you think of the very many times he's whispered his need in your ear in the heat of the moment. It's always about giving you all of him — all of his nature, including a child. Now, it feels like he's turning back on his words. "But, he's here, and he's yours."
A few moments pass of water-backed silence. His breaths even out when you move to his right leg, massaging more soap into the rag as he stares at you. "Do you think he'll like me?"
"Yuji loves the sun, grass, shit, and mud. Of course, he'll love you."
"Sounds like more your boy than mine." You smile as his fatherly worry begins to fall over him. It's been just gathered on your shoulders for all this time; it's nice to have him back to carry it with the grace and strength only a man could harness. "Looks damn-near like me, though. Hah."
"He's got your face, but is far sweeter than you ever were." You hum and reminisce, working from his thigh, down to his foot. You take your time, there. "Even as a boy, you only smiled if it was at me… You, throwing stones at the kids who stained my dress with mud."
He chuckles again as the memory hits. It was a sweet time before the violence truly took hold, but a time he'd never, ever, go back to. The softness of the moment propels you forward, especially as your touch crosses a new, thick, deep scar on his knee — one jagged around the edges and spanning up the ink of his tattoo. It looks new. "Who'd you pick a fight with to get this one?"
Sukuna peels open his eyes, laughs softly, then settles back with a hum. "Mm, wouldn't you like to know. Gonna track 'em down and get revenge for me, babe?"
"Ten years earlier, I'd have found out where they lived so I could kick their teeth in." You're gentle around the scarred area, not knowing if residual pain lingered. Even if it did, Sukuna wouldn't show it.
"Gailey got spooked and bucked me off mid-shootin'. Boot got caught in the stirrups, and the knife in my holster slipped and nearly gouged out my knee." He settles, then flicks his gaze to you. "Gonna go up against my mare?"
"Can't blame a girl for getting a little spooked." You sit up, back cracking from the uncomfortable hunch you've been in for nearly ten minutes. The water is cooling — your skin pruny and water-logged. "Let me get your hair, cowboy… Scoot up, some."
"You must think I've got all the space in the world to move about." He mutters in defiance, folding his legs so he can give you a good enough vantage to pour water over his scalp. Reaching the tin cup that always accompanies your boy's baths, you fill it with bath water, reach to cover Sukuna's eyes, and pour it over his head. It trickles and rolls off the greasy locks just like you knew it would, so you repeat it… twice.
Until Sukuna feels like he's being waterlogged, and pushes out of your gentle grip.
"Stop fussing."
"Didn't think drowning would be the thing to take me out." He protests, peeling your hand from his sun-spotted face. He looks up at you through stringy hair like a wet puppy, rolling his eyes when you laugh with a sparkle in yours. "I'm glad this is funny for you."
"It's not, you just remind me of my baby. He hates getting his hair wet, too."
"Then, I can't wait to meet him. Now he sounds like my kinda boy."
"He's so sweet, Ryomen, really." You sigh like you're in love, because you are. Talking about Yuji, doting on him, and watching the world fall into his muddy little hands opened something up inside of you that you didn't know existed. It's a love that overtakes every single feeling you've ever experienced, and it's your favorite thing ever. "I love my boy — lovin' you for giving him to me, too."
"Looks like I gotta get used to being an afterthought." He starts, but his words aren't as hard as you're familiar with. They're steady and chosen well, then he turns and peeks at you through sticky, wet lashes. "But I think I'm okay with that."
You check on Yuji as Sukuna dries off by the basin — just sticking your head through his door to make out his soft, sleeping breaths. You smile in relief when you see he's shifted from the position you last saw him in, then turn to leave the room once your nerves are satiated.
Sukuna cleans up, and you lock back up, making sure every one of your makeshift stronghold locks are down and out. Not that there'd be anyone on this side of town, but you wouldn't take chances. It's just not in your nature. So, you take your time with it, only making your way back to Sukuna when you're sure not even the wind could penetrate your home.
He's mostly dry when he comes back into view — a lone rag pressed to his crotch as he feverishly tugs the wetness away. The air smells like smoke from the freshly snuffed fireplace, and lantern fuel sits thick in the air. It's the only way you're able to see the scars you weren't able to see the first time around.
"Assuming you don't have night clothes for me."
"No, you're gonna have to wait till the morning. But, even then, I wanna wash the ones you came here in. Maybe we can head into town — oh, Yuji would just adore that."
"I ain't taking my boy into town, that's crazy. Just to wave him around like a defenseless red flag? Nah, it ain't smart."
"But, we go into town often."
"Your face ain't mine. The decision is no." He throws it at you like hot coals, uncaring if it burns or not. Now that he has the upper hand in your household, he expects you to bend like you always have, so you do, understanding that Sukuna only wants safety for the two of you above all.
"I-I have some loose fabric, I can sew you something to put on your body in the meantime while your clothes dry." You take the rag he used to dry off when he holds it out to you, still bare and now, scrubbed clean and raw. His skin is tinted with your care — an easy, cherry red that blooms at the shoulders. "…if that'll be okay."
Sukuna nods, running his stringy hair back with his fingers. He's using them as a comb, going back and forth to release the watery hold it has on his scalp. "I ain't no stranger to wearin' wet clothes, neither."
"Then I'd have to just wash them again the next day."
"Since when'd you get so crazy about cleanliness?"
"When my baby nearly died from infection." You turn and walk after him as he goes to leave, clutching the rag to your chest as you blindly lead him to your bedroom. "And it's not exactly hurting you, is it?"
"Nah, the bath was nice."
"It's that door," You whisper as Sukuna draws near your room. He nods, then pushes at the door, swinging it open into a pitch-black, moon-streaked room. A thin, dingy bed sits in the middle, illuminated by silver drops of dust falling from the shivering roof. Wind howls outside your window — bugs chirp and sing, making the silence easier as Sukuna navigates the dark.
He walks over to your bedside and lights the lantern you keep there, convenient with a book of matches at its base. Sukuna moves about the space as if he owns it, and you don't mind. You quite like the power he exudes, even when he's standing bare naked, back to you as he fusses ahead. It's a sweet, relaxed view of your outlaw that you've never really seen before. He's so much bigger than he once was — poised and filled out, hefty and unashamed. You go to reach out and touch his back, but before you can, he turns around into the freshly-lit space.
"Think you can be good and keep quiet?" He nods, looking down as he crowds you. You swallow, nodding back as his hands fall at your waist, touching you there before crossing his hands behind your back. "Because I don't think I can be good and hold myself back."
"Don't be selfish." You're whispering, dangerously close to his skin, as he smiles against your cheek. Then, he kisses you there, and it's fleeting. Still, it sends a flood of love through your veins, all stopping to pool between your thighs. You're already shivering, throat bobbing down constant wetness. "You have to learn to put him first… always."
"Even over you and this sweet body?" He hums like a man on a mission, hands reaching to grab and squeeze your behind through the thin linen. Sukuna is so close that you can feel it as soon as it happens — his erection is yours, and it's brick-hard against your hip before he even truly touches you. "The sweet body that gave him to me?"
"Y-yes," You stutter, arms winding around his neck as he holds you close. You crane your neck for him to mark you further, sawing your bottom lip between your teeth as he kisses and sucks the skin into his warm mouth. "Mm, God — I missed this. Needed you so bad."
"Don't know why it took you five goddamn years to send me a letter." He's fussing at you through your pillow-soft neck, nuzzling his nose in the space between your collarbone and neck. Like he's scent-marking, he sniffs, then smiles, tongue peeking through to lick a stripe across the expanse.
"I didn't want to need you." Your hands fall from his tall neck to his shoulders, squeezing and digging your fingers into the bare skin, before letting your blunt nails rake down his back. He hisses, but not in pain, but with familiarity. You always loved taking your pleasure out in red, stinging scratch marks. They've all faded by now — no scarring, so he needs a fresh new set. "But I've been goin' crazy without you."
"You gotta enough pride to kill a horse." He shakes his head like he's suddenly disapproving of the ways you've had all throughout your life. "But, mm, I got this body trained like one of my own men."
He can smell it before he reaches between your thighs to feel it — the arousal that only drips for him. It comes in waves and buckets now, since you've had a child, and you can't hide it. So, he smiles when his hand finally makes its way under your dress, slipping two steady fingers against your heat so he can trace the pooling, hot wetness into your clammy skin. You toss your head back as soon as you feel him there, lips parted and silent as he touches you gently, rubbing his fingers against your clit, then down past your entrance, and back up to the sweet pleasure button that he just can't stop pushing.
"C'mere." He mutters, using his free hand to push your head back into a kiss he initiates. As soon as your lips are on his, he starts rubbing little circles there, pulling sweet moans from your lips, directly into his mouth, which he takes like candy. He gets you into it quickly, smirking, showing teeth as you kiss him, and he stares, eyes open at your flustered, hot reflection. "Pretty girl — go ahead and chase my fingers. Feels good, hm?"
"S-shut up." You toss your head back again, taking the break in the kiss so he can talk as leverage to let your weak neck bend. "Mm, right there."
You're so wet that it's seeping through your dress. The sounds are lewd and squelching as Sukuna's fingers play a little faster — pumping a bit deeper so the tips of his fingers can grace your entrance so delicately. "Cream on 'em, baby doll. Gotta taste you."
"O-oh, fuck," You whisper, head lolling to the side as you hike your knee over his leg. He nods for you, humming and reaching down to hold your leg steady so you can focus on the pleasure he's giving you and not needing to stand up straight. "Keep talking like that… Mm, in my ear."
"Baby…" Sukuna does exactly what you want, whenever you want. In a split second, he's leaning down to your ear and whispering so low that it runs through your body in dark vibrations, flowing life into your core, making you buck and whine on impact. "My lady — Sweet, lady-lay… I'm goddamn impressed with you…"
Your grip tightens over him, his words running over your back like hot, inviting lava. They feel so good and burn so fiercely, giving you air and space that you haven't stepped into in years. "Do I make you proud?"
"Is that even a damn question?" It's harsh, but his steady words prick you like needles. You shiver it down, breathing out determined little moans between fleeting lip-kisses. You can't tell just how hard he's been grinding over your soft skin, but when he starts to leave a cooling trail of wetness in his wake, you can tell he's getting overwhelmed. He doesn't need to hide it as he steps away, pushing you around and letting his sticky fingers fall free from your slick heat.
"N-need you to say it." You grunt as he pushes you to the bed by your back, forcing you on your outstretched palms, trying to gather your feelings before he's crowding you again. It's heated and damn near animalistic — the way he gathers your thin fabric at your waist, groaning heartily from the throat as he fists his length off with the view of your waiting, dripping cunt. While you're not facing him, Sukuna does what he knows you hate to see — the way he licks and sucks his fingers clear of your slick like it's maple syrup coating salty skin. He hums like it's his favorite flavor, fisting his cock, watching you pant and peek over your shoulder at him, eyes blown. "…just wanna make you proud."
Sukuna's head shakes, a soft rolling chuckle getting lost as he pulls his clean, spit-soaked fingers out of his mouth. "You've got it all, Mama."
You whine, knees quivering as you lift one over the creaking mattress. You two don't have to stop to talk, or feel out each other — the passion is already there, you're already about to come undone just from his words and touch. It's become so obvious that you can't exist with any man but him. It's Sukuna or nobody.
"Again," You plead, on the verge of tears. But, Sukuna waits. He waits until you're sitting up and sick with the wait, peeking back at him, only to get overwhelmed by the huge shadow and turn around again. You can't see the way he's posing his sensitive, reddened tip against your waiting entrance, but it's driving him crazy. His hands are shaking, throat bobbing around spit he has to take down.
"I'm so proud of you." His voice sounds oddly clear for what he's going through, or maybe it's the feeling of finally starting to bottom out inside of you that screws his head on straight. As soon as your fluttering, velvety walls open around him, his vision damn-near goes white. It's an oxymoron — just how tight you are, then how wet you've been. Your body gets used to the penetration again slowly, but not quickly enough for him. As you let your head fall between your shoulders, breath caught as you fit the entire girth of him in one go, you catch yourself crying — dripping tears into your cotton sheets.
Sukuna leans over to kiss the back of your dropped neck, lips tracing over your jutting spine and shoulderblades as he sits, fully sheathed, inside of you. His hips rock easily, just grinding against your ass so he has some friction, but he's giving you grace while he can.
"Gotta give you another little baby to love on, huh?" Sweat beads at his brow, though the temperature in the room hasn't changed. He's losing himself more and more as your heat overtakes him, and he can't hide it. "Take care'a you and rub up on your belly like I should've done them years ago… Gotta do right by you this time."
"Oh, please—
"Mhm," He draws closer to your ear, nose pressing and smushing against the shell as he whispers and licks at the skin. "You know I talk a lotta mess, or nothin' at all. But I'm so proud of you. So goddamn proud…"
"Thank you. Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you…" Your words mutter and mush together because you can't focus. You can only squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the heavy, deep throbbing Sukuna's offering to you from the inside. His length twitches every time you absentmindedly clamp down on the insane stretch, and it's driving him crazy.
Sukuna does so well at keeping you quietly at bay, until another soft squeeze of your soft cunt sends a flood of mean shivers down his spine. It awakens something within him as he stares blankly at the moon-painted wall, then to your messily clothed, half-decent body pinned under him. He stares at the wall because he knows he has to hold back in some form — he knows he can't rip that stupid fucking nightgown from your soft skin, because you wouldn't appreciate it. Then, he thinks again, brows furrowed as he stares and massages your cheeks gently, pulling out just an inch to ogle at the lewd sight.
His heart races.
"Fuck, baby doll… I know." He grunts like a preemptive apology, then reaches down, thick arms caught between your slip and your skin. His touch grazes over your belly where the fabric hangs and pools, then to your chest — grabbing and squeezing at your breasts like he wants something good out of you. You don't expect him to withdraw how he does, turning a fist in the delicate fabric, and pulling until it tears to shreds against your flushed body.
Attention grabbed, pulling you out of the haze you've fallen into, you sit up with a gasp, shifting your weight to a single hand so you can gather the tatters of your dress. You whine, no words coming to fruition right now — he's got hands everywhere, marking your chest, grabbing at your neck, then falling back to your stomach. Any inch of skin Sukuna can see is skin he wants, so he uses the gathered handfuls he has in your hips and slowly slides out of your sticky cunt, sighing heavily before slamming back into your body as he hates you.
"You fuc—
"Shh, Ah — I know, I know." Sukuna grunts, head tossed back in sweet pleasure. He's ready for you to curse him for the tattered gown, and surely for manhandling you in a way that would definitely leave bruises, but he knows you need it like this. It's the only way you two make love.
"Please, Ryomen— Oh, my—
"That's it, girl." He offers as a final warning, letting you linger and adjust before he pulls back out, then fucks into you with that same punching strength. You try to moan, but it gets caught against a scream — all meshed and uncomfortable in your throat. What comes of it is a cry so guttural and charged that Sukuna's eyes widen, going mad with crazed need. He wants you to scream like that for him, all the time.
So, he gives you those same fucks over and over and over again.
It's punishing — raw and hot with untamed need. Every time he fucks into you, he digs his claws in your ass as leverage to pull back out, just to give it to you again. Staring up at the ceiling again, Sukuna's eyes roll back into his skull, Adam's apple bobbing uncomfortably as the sweet, sick sound of skin on skin paints the wooden bedroom walls.
You're crying, moaning, and writhing in your bed like you're searching for mercy that will never come. It hurts so good, stinging every time that strength hits your skin in concentrated slaps. His balls are heavy, and they're merciless every time they rain down against your sensitive cunt, making you bury your head even deeper into the straw mattress to scream your need into it.
You're clawing the sheets, back arching as you try to alleviate the pressure — to control the pleasure that's hitting you so hard that you don't know when you're going to cum. Maybe you already had, and the pooling wetness is a testament to that, and not the permanent need you feel for him just showing its face.
It's too much. You search for mercy with your voice, knees sliding against the mattress to alleviate the onslaught. "Ryo— Ryomen, please! Oh my— fuck,"
"Stop." He demands, reaching to take you by the neck, stopping you from sliding further onto the mattress. He's chasing you on his tiptoes, knees digging into the splintering wood bedframe every time he has to chase you. "You do this every fucking time. Stop fucking running."
"It's too much!" You don't realize how loud you're being, but Sukuna does. Your wrecked voice hits his eardrums like a bomb — one loud enough to wake a sleeping five-year-old. So, he shifts, joining you, both knees pressed into the mattress as he turns and buries your head into it.
"There you go— scream into that. Just like that, mhm." He's not noticing the heavy creaks coming from the wood, how it's cracking and not just shaking. He wants to fuck you dry — he's got to put you through this mattress, it's all he knows. "Good fucking girl. Scream for it."
Sukuna is repeating himself, but he doesn't care. Your bed is cracking, but you don't notice. All you can focus on is how air isn't making its sweet way to your lungs, how your body is numb, wracked with your climax before you can even think about it.
You're a mess of drool, tears, and sweat, fingers flexing against the sheets — banging and tapping out as his weight covers and presses you into nothing but his. Sukuna has no limits, but you fear you're facing your own when you finally unravel. It's fucking messy and heated — sticking to both of your bodies, going unnoticed by him for just a second until your limp cries die down with exhaustion.
Still, he knows this isn't the end. You know this isn't the end, and you're elated, you just can't communicate it.
An easy calm that you haven't felt in forever starts to fall over you as your orgasm settles, even when his fucks haven't let up. You're left smiling like an idiot in bed, eyebrows quirking up every time he hits that sweet, sensitive spot inside of you. Pressed into the bed like this, Sukuna makes a home in your cervix, offering you long, thick strides as you try to gather air against his loosening grip.
It's when you speak for the first time in what Sukuna thinks is forever that he can't take it anymore.
It's only a simple, wrecked, "D-don't stop…" but it sends him into overdrive. Pinning you back down into the mattress, front flush against the surface, he finishes himself out inside of you, grip turning painful as his release starts to feel so close, yet so impossibly far. It's driving him crazy — he detaches, if only for a second.
It's in that fateful, split second that he hears the wood splinter, crack, then completely give under the two of you. The break occurs in the middle, causing the bed to cave in on itself, still held high by the head and backboard. You don't notice at first, and neither does he.
So, he keeps chasing his orgasm, fucking into you harder, faster, messier. You're doing anything to catch a whiff of air, reaching back to slap his hand on your neck away, but you don't have to tell him twice. With a hard, deep moan of your name, Sukuna's grip loosens, the third leg of the bed caves in on itself, and he cums so hard that stars black out his vision.
He finishes inside of you, but it doesn't stop. He's struck silent, forehead pressed into your shoulder as his seed just keeps on coming. It overflows around him, flooding your cervix, then bubbling back down, leaking out drip by drip every time he presses his length deeper inside of you. The groans are guttural and consistent, so deep and wrecked that you're sure his voice will sound three pitches deeper for the next few days.
Still, you let him have his moment, catching your breath and blinking hard every time another wave of cum floods your body. He's purposeful in his mission — he wants in. He wants a baby.
For now, he'd have to take on a broken bed, and he doesn't even realize the damage until he's coming to his senses, letting his grip slide from the back of your head. He wants to lie next to you and sleep for the foreseeable future, but when he goes to do so, the bed creaks, and the fourth leg snaps.
Two hits, and the bed is in pieces on the ground, stealing the breath from your lungs as you sit up, disoriented. You gasp, head numb, but simultaneously throbbing as you look around the room. Sukuna already seems to be knocked out, mouth open, his arm serving as a pillow. He's left you to deal with a broken bed — the direct victim of how touch-starved he was.
As sore as you already are, you gather yourself to sit up, hair completely disheveled and run through. Once you can actually see the damage, you blink: "Oh, my God."
The sun wakes before you do, and instead of feeling brand-new, you wake up feeling like a ten-pound weight was pressed on your chest all night. Your lungs hurt — throat burning and weak as unforgiving sun rays filter through the window and directly onto your face.
You groan, moving all ten of your fingers, one by one, gaining your footing before you have the nerve to open your eyes. Your back aches, soreness blooms everywhere, and you smell like sweat and damp straw. It sticks to your skin like a velcro, caught in your eyelashes as you finally peel open your eyes.
You sit up pretty quickly, head throbbing, but nothing out of the ordinary. Sukuna's passed out next to you with his face buried in the ruined sheets. He snores, but it's soft and tasteful — a sound you've missed more than you'd like to admit. So, you watch him for a second, stopping to brush some light hair from his hard, manly features. His nose is still soft, though. You catch yourself lingering.
"Mama?"
Your heart drops, realizing why you've woken up so suddenly from your sleep. Tiny footsteps land in front of your bedroom door, stopping before tiny, chubby fingers reach under the crack — grabbing and clawing at the wood like a curious kitten.
"Mama, if we sleep any long—longer, we'll miss the little birdies at the feed bowl." His voice is just as small as his footsteps, pitched and polite as he sticks his nose under the wide gap. Yuji's not used to waking up alone, and if he does, it's because you're sick. Yuji hates it when you're sick.
His presence is enough to stand you up, bones creaking as you crawl out of the wreckage of your bed. The straw from the mattress is littered against the dusty wood floor like your bedroom is a barn — all caught up and tangled in Sukuna's hair as he sleeps the morning away. You grunt and scurry, still completely naked and lacking the same gown you went to sleep in. The bruises have begun to bud over your flesh. You can see it as you stand, witnessing the flash of your reflection in the dingy windowpane.
"Just a second, Yuji!" You call out in reply, clearing your throat afterward as you dig through your clothes chest. The first winter nightgown you see that touches your ankles is the first thing you pull on, not bothering to fix your hair or wipe your face, because your son comes first. You didn't want to unnerve him.
"Mama, we can't miss the birdi—
"I'm sorry, baby. I'm okay, I just overslept." You apologize as soon as you pull the door open, stepping over his curled, hunched figure so you can close your bedroom door shut before he can see the mess. "Before we see the birdies, how about some breakfast?"
"We won't miss 'em?"
You smile, shaking your head as you help him to his bare feet. Yuji clings onto your outstretched hand like he's terrified to let you go, using that leverage to walk into your legs to properly hug you good morning.
"We won't miss them." You counter, rubbing your gentle hands through his light, sleep-ruffled hair. He just wants to hold you for a moment, squeezing your legs hard and swaying back and forth — soft cheek buried in the fabric of your pajamas. "How about some sweet porridge? And toast?"
"Mhm."
"And then…" You hum, walking with him hand in hand into the kitchen. You kick around some of his toys in your path, smiling when you peek down at him. "If you eat all of your breakfast, I'll have a surprise for you, okay?"
Yuji smiles so big, letting go of your hand and jumping — skidding with joy. "I'll eat it all! I promise," He finds his way to his toys, to the little wooden swords and balls that trip you up in the night. He's so perfectly clueless to it all, and Yuji had never really asked about a father, but his heart and mind are so open from your constant praise, that you're sure he'll fall into your Sukuna just like God intended.
As you get breakfast going — needing to step out to the well to fetch fresh water, and to the yard for firewood, Yuji just talks. He talks to you about what he dreamt of the night before, going on about princesses and werewolves like from the bedtime stories you whisper to him. His imagination knows no bounds; he even has a name for every creak in the floor.
You move in and out of the house, keeping the door open so the summer breeze can clear some of the lingering smoke from last night. Time moves slowly and with intention when it's just the two of you, letting Sukuna snore away the precious morning hours, because you know he's typically not one to let himself rest.
Breakfast comes an hour later, then your daily morning ritual of bird watching. Yuji lets you carry him on your hip, long, lanky legs swinging and kicking into you with excitement as the colorful array of bird feathers come, go, dip, and divot into the homemade bird feeder you two carved together.
Just like it's illustrated in his bird-watching book, Yuji points out all the different sparrows and Finches — stopping and squeezing your shoulder when a rare red-faced Finch lands on the feeder, shaking off the wind like an air-gliding athlete. Just on your porch, bare feet pressed into the damp wood with morning dew, you nod and press him on, rubbing at his childlike curiosity as he thrives with a full belly.
You're not timing anything, and you don't have any expectations. Sukuna holds multitudes and entire lives in his hands, but even in the wake of all the power he wields, he still understands that he has to take the lead and sweep this boy under his arm. He's only as powerful as his only son's love for him, and that's something that's earned — not just thrown to the wind, hopeful for the best.
Sukuna comes to once the two of you are already predisposed with little birds at the window. There's an invisible, overwhelming fear that sits on his chest and stifles his sleep, which didn't bother him last night. In fact, he's sure he hasn't slept a full night in five years — always having something to wake up for. There's always something on his mind.
This time, it's you. He hasn't felt your soul pressed into his bareness for a few hours now, and his skin was starting to get antsy. Sitting up in the ruins of your bed, he doesn't feel guilty. In some hard-to-swallow, unfamiliar way, he feels quite pleased with himself. You're strong enough to withstand his need, but your bed isn't. The thought makes him smile, even though he's a mess, lying in a mess, and now needing to deal with it, too.
Sukuna grumbles to himself, squinting his eyes as the sun's rays through the window blind him senseless. Whispers of his essence are still painted into his skin — soaked up in the sheets and reeking of nothing but him. It feels like he laid his mark on a spot he'd never touch again, because he knows what he's doing today. Sukuna has to build you a new bed.
In the meantime, he gets up slowly, letting his joints move with a precision he learned from you after a long night. Sukuna can guess that you're with the boy, scooped up into mom duties long before the sun truly rises. He just can't believe he slept through your departure — usually so on his toes when he's with his men. He measures every single bump in the night.
Now, he lets himself dress slowly and with an ease that he's never truly felt. It's mundane, the way he slips on the same camp-laden clothes he rode here in yesterday. Sure, he knows he's due to get cut looks and comments from you about it, but you're too caught up with your son to prioritize his clothing. He thought he'd mind more than he does, but his heart feels warmer, instead of the usual faint, lifeless beat it usually holds.
Leaving his shirt open, making sure his pants are fitted well, he digs around in his pockets, knowing he kept his breakfast stashed safely in one of his flapped pockets. While he peeks out of the window facing the back yard, just keeping a steady eye out, he grabs his foil pack of chewing tobacco, collects a thick, dry dip, and stuffs it in his left cheek. He's not too messy with it — doesn't make the fact that he's got it an entire show. He just lets the tobacco marinate, body visibly relaxing once that nicotine hits his head.
He runs his fingers through his hair, picking loose straw from his beard and teeth as he contemplates his next move. He has to get over his nerves, knowing a smaller version of himself is running somewhere unchained right outside his door. Internally, his mind is blank and fuzzy — unsure how to capture the affection of someone who walks with rose-tinted lenses on all the time. He wishes he had spoken to you about it more. He knows he can confide in you, and you'd be there to rub his back and remind him of the truth. He knows, now, that he's too late. He's five years too late, and now he has to make up for it.
Sukuna walks out of your bedroom like he's doing the walk of shame, head dipped just slightly as if he's waiting for a bullet to his chest in the form of a rambunctious boy. The house is still; the lingering scent of breakfast wafts through the air, mingling with the sun's warmth. He automatically feels out of place — warm and comfortable, not on edge like he usually is.
Then, outside the open door, he hears your soft voice. It cuts through the heart like a knife, solidifying the fact that Sukuna loves you — he cherishes you with all he has, because nobody makes him feel the way you do by just opening their mouth.
Through the window, peeking back into the house, you see him. Yuji is on his feet, rising to his tiptoes to try and poke the underside of the feeder, wanting to see it sway magically in the breeze, now that all the birds have had their fill.
"Mama," His voice fades into the passing breeze, heart hammering as you see Sukuna's looming shadow cut through the darkness of the hallway. "Mama, see—
"Y-Yuji." You snap yourself out of whatever daze Sukuna's gaze swept you into, reaching down to slip your son's hand in your own. A few beats pass, and you kneel to his level. "Remember what I told you about a surprise?"
"Yes! And I ate all my food!" He replies, always chipper in a way you can't quite match.
At his level like this, you move your touch to his shoulders, smiling softly. "Like a good boy, yes, you did… Now, do you remember what I told you about your father — how every little girl and boy has one?"
"I like it when you tell me about yours." Yuji blinks up at you, always knowing how to hold perfect eye-contact like you raised him to. "Can you tell me more, Mama?"
"I'll tell you everything you could ever want to know." You smile, genuinely, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. Yuji's beaming like the sun, taking your undivided attention as if he'd never see it again. "But, how about I tell you about yours?"
"M-my papa?"
You take a deep, steadying breath, heart racing uncomfortably as you trek this dense, new area of motherhood. Together, you two don't talk much about Sukuna's existence. Of course, you ease Yuji's singing nerves when he's curious about where he came from, but his Dad never had a name. You thought it'd be just the two of you for life.
Now, you're pedaling back over that sentiment, and it sits sourly on your tongue. You don't even want to stand and face Sukuna's piercing gaze — one that screams a rendition of, I told you so.
For Yuji, you nod, giving him bright eyes, smiling, and scooping him up into a bear hug that he melts into like butter. He loves being held by you, knowing it comes few and far between since he's gotten so tall. Now, you feel like you have to carry him in the presence of someone new, even if it's just your Sukuna. Your nature is wired to protect your baby above all.
"Your Papa came to visit you, baby." You whisper into your boy's hair, walking forward into the home where Sukuna waits, his hip cocked against the dining table, where he picks at the dry, crusted pieces of bread that Yuji disregarded. He's got tobacco marinating in one side of his cheek, and bread in the other, licking over his drying lips before he realizes the two of you walking back in the door. Yuji's face is buried in your shoulder — he can't see, but that's how you want it. At least, for right now.
"My Papa?" He repeats like he doesn't believe you, "Where?"
Sukuna hears the tiny, boyish voice and stands as straight as an arrow, eyes blown and nervous for once in his life, and Yuji tilts his head, blinking up at him for the first time in his life.
The pair just… stare for a second. Sukuna idles, and Yuji breathes slowly. In your mind, you can hear a pin drop, shake, then still. You don't even realize that your arms, holding your child up, are shaking with nerves until he wiggles and slides down, his little hands gripping the long fabric of your dress as he stares at the stranger with wide eyes.
Yuji just can't understand how similar they look. He's confused.
So, Sukuna breaks the silence, but it's not welcome. He chuckles, jaw working another chew of his dip.
When you catch it, you're on him immediately. "Ah, spit that ou—
"He's fine." Sukuna undermines you with a select two words, hands stuffed in his front pockets as he takes a few steps forward. Yuji retreats back into you as the familiar stranger draws close, and it makes Sukuna laugh again, eyes squinting as he lowers to a knee, feeling like he'd be a little less daunting if he were on the five-year-old's level.
"Hi, Yuji."
Silence. Sukuna tries again, dipping his head before combing through another approach.
He thinks about what he has to do today — Surely Yuji likes horses, or even hunting. But today, he had a bigger to-do list. One that Mom couldn't help with at all.
"Hey, man, how'd you like to help build your Mama a new bed?"
omg 'It'll Always be You' is so good I'm obsessed w it. Do you plan on writing a pt.2 on how everyone would react to them being Mated or smth like that?
this is actually the first request for a pt.2 i’ve gotten lol i have midterms rn but i’ll def start working on it!
maybe they’ll get that ‘heir’ they were working on👀
an all female na’vi clan who for their version of a coming of age ceremony have to go out and hunt for a male from another clan to have a child with…imagine getting your hands on un-mated olo’eyktan!neteyam but once you catch him he doesn’t want you to let him go
You and Neteyam are betrothed, your bonding ceremony is only a few days away. When the Ash attack the wind traders and they have to take shelter with the Omatikaya for a few days, an unexpected visitor almost tears you two apart.
wc: 8.8k
#: canon divergence, miscommunication trope, angst, hurt w comfort, fluff, smut, pet names, fingering, breeding, unprotected piv, happy ending, use of Na'vi language, Tsakarem! reader (tsahik in training/ a bit Eywa obsessed)
a/n: the first real thing i've written in almost a year so forgive me if i'm a bit rusty, little to no beta read
"Ma 'Teyam!"
Your beloved's Ikran landed with a thud, wings slapping the ground in victory as the clan gathered to welcome the hunting party. Villagers reached for him as he dismounted, bursting with pride at their prince's arrival and his large kill. Yet even through their cheers for him and his father's hard gaze tracking him, his vision zeroed in on you in the crowd.
Your eyes sparkled at the sight of him, barely sparing a glance at the large portion of meat clutched in his hand, always more thrilled at his return than his scores from the hunt.
"Sevin," he grinned, before he could even touch his forehead to greet you, you were jumping into his embrace. Neteyam caught you, strong arms wrapping you and squeezing as he kissed your cheek. "Did you miss me?"
"I miss you every time you are gone," you sighed into his arms, "Come, you are hurt and need healing."
You were no fighter.
While your father had been a great warrior, flying alongside Toruk Makto in the war against the tawtutes, you didn't seem to have the hand for it. Instead, your place was with Eywa. You spent your days with Mo'at in the Tsahik's tent, learning what you could to help your people but especially your betrothed and the many cuts he returned with after a hunt or scouting mission.
You and Neteyam had been betrothed since birth, promised to each other in a sworn pact between your fathers. But at some point in your childhood, it had flourished into a naive friendship and then pure love, the duty of it all was long forgotten. You were like family to the Sully's and your parents were happy that you and Neteyam could find love in it so easily.
"Are you sure I need healing?" he laughed as you tugged him along, "Or is this just you trying to get hands on me?"
If you turned around, you would see little hearts flecked in his gold irises. From the way your tail swayed while you walked to the beads you put in your hair, Neteyam was smitten with you and everyone knew it.
He couldn't wait until you were finally his in every sense. Your tsaheylu ceremony was in a few days and he was counting it down by the minute.
When you got to the tent, Mo'at was still out with Kiri, tending to the other members of the hunting party, leaving you all alone to tend to your mighty prince.
He dropped himself onto a nearby woven stool and you gasped as he pulled you into his lap. Your noses brushed, a soft giggle escaping you as he pecked at your lips.
"See, I don't have to try hard to get my hands on you," you smirked, fighting the urge to grind into his lap.
You could feel him through his thin tweng; hot and heavy, probably a leaking mess underneath. Every shift of his hips had his throbbing tip pressing against you, a reminder of how easy it was for him to take you. All he had to do was pull both your twengs aside and ravage you right here for anyone to wander in and see.
You whimpered, "Neteyam- not here."
"Why not? The future Olo'eyktan can have his woman anywhere he wants." You pushed yourself off of him, heart thumping in your chest, "We are not yet mated before Eywa."
He chased after you across the tent, his hand reaching for yours to spin you around, forcing you to face him again. "You are right. In 10 days, we will be mated and you'll have no excuses then."
Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan— first born son of Toruk Makto, golden child of the Omatikaya-- born as a gift to his parents from the spoils of war. It was his destiny to continue his father's legacy and it weighed heavily on his shoulders but with you at his side, Neteyam was eager for your future together.
You were good, didnt fuss when he ran off to keep Lo'ak out of trouble, you would be a good tsahik.
"Baby- baby wake up, we need you," he cooed, shaking you gently from your sleep.
The pet name struck you, baby. At first, you had no idea what it meant and Neteyam didn't either but he had heard his father call his mother by it all his life. So he was sure it must be reserved for the love of your life.
He cradled your head as you blinked the sleep away, his thumb caressing your cheek softly. His bow was already strapped to his back and he was wearing his headband. The sight of him, once again, dressed for battle struck fear into your heart. Sometimes, he returned with only bruises and other times it was so intense only Mo'at could treat him.
"Neteyam? What's happening- Are the sky people back-"
"Mangkwan raiders attacked a wind trader convoy near the forest edge," he gripped your hands as he explained, helping you onto your feet. "We need you to help treat people while I fly."
Your lips parted in protest, your next words surely a plea for him to stay, to not run into battle so soon but his eyes met yours, that warrior stare softening as he begged for your support.
You sighed in defeat, "Ok, I am with you."
Be safe was the part that you didn't manage to get out. You could only look up at him longingly as he took to the skies with Lo'ak on their Ikrans.
You know he does it for the clan, for his father— for you. But my Eywa you wished he would he would sit it out for once. Like usual, he left you with a heavy heart and mind. All you could do was reach for the necklace he made you for comfort.
You didn't see him again that night but had heard enough bits from warriors and traders that you brought back to the village to know he was doing well with his brother.
You spent all night treating the wounded and spent the early morning at the soul tree with Mo'at. You were with the great mother, yet your skin kept prickling with worry. The Ash had retreated and the battle was long over, so why hadn't Neteyam come to you yet?
"Yawne, come, I want you to meet someone," Neteyam finds you at the spirit tree. Behind him, his mother stands with another na'vi you don't recognise.
You stand cautiously with your tail wrapped protectively around your leg, a clear sign of your resolve. The herbs you were mixing lay abandoned as you go to his side.
"This is my betrothed, our tsakarem," Neteyam says proudly, his chest puffed up as he presents you to the unfamiliar na'vi, one gentle hand on your lower back.
He turns to you, jaw clenched with unease, the muscle in his neck pulsing with tension before he speaks. "This is Sayemi, tsahik of the Tlalim clan. She and her people will be staying with us until another caravan arrives."
“T- Tsahik? But you are so young-“
The blush that spreads across your features is almost immediate, hot and prickling with embarrassment at the tips of your ears. Despite the booming laugh that rises from her chest, your gaze stays lowered. You didn’t mean to say it out loud.
The crinkle of her eyes in unfiltered amusement has you releasing a breath you didn't realise you were holding in. Your ears twitch at the feeling of the faint circles being rubbed into your back.
She is closer to you now and you can see the things you didn’t before. Sayemi is unusually tall, thin lips pursed into as she studies you for something she can't yet understand. Her cheeks are plump with her youthful wisdom. She is wrapped in a long cloth in true wind-trader fashion but her tail still peeks out as it sways behind her tauntingly.
“Peylak is not my mate, he is my father.”
She circles you, big round eyes inquisitively darting to everything about you. “So you are to be tsahik and he, Olo’eyktan…but you are not yet mated.”
“What is holding you back? Is it the prince or something else?”
Neteyam grimaces beside you and you hear Neytiri’s familiar hiss. “That is enough! This topic is not for discussion.”
As Neytiri guides Sayemi away, something uneasy twists in your stomach. She was right, why had you waited this long to set your ceremony? The two of you have loved each other for so long and have been together in spirit for even longer.
"Hey- Are you listening to me?"
You blink, startled by Neteyam's fingers snapping in front of you. The lines on his forehead are creased in frustration so you imagine he'd been trying to get your attention for a while.
He stills for a moment, both arms coming up to rub your sides soothingly. You find calm in his eyes and the two of you let your soft breathing fill the space for a while.
"Neteyam," you mumble, "I was worried about you."
He hums and kisses you, your lips slotting perfectly against each other. You deepen it as you bring your arms up to wrap around his neck and he parts his lips to let you slip your tongue into the kiss.
"Skxawng, get a room you two!" Lo'ak's boyish teasing comes unexpectedly.
He's folded over with laughter, leaning against the spirit tree. Neteyam clears his throat awkwardly-- the prodigal son getting caught making out with his betrothed in front the ancestors. You're not sure why you feel ashamed for kissing your betrothed but the sudden discomfort you feel in your own skin is undeniable.
"Lo'ak what do you want, can't you see I'm busy." Neteyam's voice is laced with annoyance.
"You call this busy?" his brother teases, "Dad's looking for you, something about the wind traders."
When Jake calls, you always lose the battle of importance in Neteyam's life.
You see it on his face before he even opens his mouth to speak, his handsome features marred by disappointment. "It's ok," you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, "Go to him, your father needs you."
Sometimes, Neteyam felt he loved you more than life itself. Your kind ways and that though it broke his heart to be apart from you, you never gave up on him. He was obsessed with you in both body and soul. "Fine. I'll go but promise me tonight- tonight we'll do something together, just the two of us," he spoke muffled against your skin as he kissed your hand.
You giggled like a little girl again, loving the feeling of his warm breath on you and the way his ears drooped when he spoke to you.
"Ok..I promise."
"Ugh you two are so annoying," Lo'ak groans, reminding you of his presence. "Just become mates already!"
"I told you, we are doing it the traditional way."
"Whatever big bro, just be careful or someone cool like me might take her from you."
They walk off hissing at each other. Just like that, you're alone with your herbs again, the scent of your betrothed lingering pleasantly in the air.
At night, the forest transformed into a living gem. Small bioluminescent flowers opened up under your feet, leaving a trail of purple where you walked. You giggled to yourself as you walked, your usual poised facade reduced to a fit of giggles, giddy at the thought of seeing your betrothed so soon.
Then, you saw it— her. Sayemi clung to Neteyam's bicep like a lifeline as they laughed around the fire. You were no fool. They were surrounded by others from the wind trader clan but her eyes never strayed from his form.
The sight of you sent a rapture of bliss running up Neteyam's spine, suddenly compelling him to stand to his full height. Instinctively, he reached for you and usually, this romantic gesture would have had you batting your lashes bashfully but your excitement quickly twisted into fear. You screeched and darted to catch Neteyam as he stumbled forward, falling ungracefully into your arms.
You cradled him there on the floor, anxiously checking his body for any sign of injury or poison. His condition was unnatural, foreign to you despite your many moons of training.
Then, a laughter cut through the silence in the air. The beads in your hair rattled with how quickly you turned to face her.
“You! What sick ritual is this-”
You hissed at her, pupils turning to slits as you bared your fangs. “Calm down, it is a harmless herb,” she licked her fangs after she spoke. “I just gave him something to make him relax, he was so…tense.”
All your senses seemed to abandon you, leaving your mind racing and your heart thumping wildly in your chest. The only thing you were sure of at that very moment, was that you needed to get Neteyam out of there.
Lo'ak, Kiri and Spider were suddenly no where to be found and you were growing more anxious by the second. He was 8 feet of lean muscle-- there was no way you could carry him yourself. Whatever she had given him had knocked him flat on his ass, rendering the mighty warrior useless.
Your thumb rubbed soothing circles into his cheek as you whispered sweet nothings to him, doing everything you could to keep him conscious for the while. Up close, his pupils were blown wide in a daze.
"Baby no please, just sit with me for a bit,” he slurred. He was delirious yet that familiar love-sick grin was once again dancing its way onto his lips.
What the fuck had Sayemi given him.
“Ma ‘Teyam, listen to me.” Your words barely escaped your throat, desperation seeping through with each word you spoke. “I need you to get up and walk with me, do it for your yawne.”
You hooked his arm over your shoulder, tensing what little muscle you had to hold him there. The groan the two of you simultaneously let out as you hoisted him up, was enough to have the nearby Helicoradians shutting their leaves. Beneath him, Neteyam's legs shook, the hardened warrior's body reduced to a sack of fluttering nerves under the herbal influence.
You stumbled once, almost letting his hand slip from yours as rage surged through you. You had never in your life been this tempted to attack someone.
Sayemi looked smug where she stood, arrogance dripping off of her with the rallied support of her fellow wind traders. Your anger flared at the tips of your fingers, like a burning static begging to be unleashed.
"You may be tsahik on your little float in the sky but you have no authority in this forest!” you hissed, growing exhausted under your beloved's near-dead weight. "You will do well to remember that, tsahik."
You were certain it was only by the will of Eywa that you were able to carry Neteyam all the way back to your kelku. He needed help— more than you could provide right now— but Mo'at was not an option. It would be a scandal: the future Olo'eyktan showing up drugged at the tsahik's tent, just days away from his mating ceremony.
You lay him down on your sleeping mat. It was clear he was using all the conscious strength he had to prop himself up on your head rest. You let him wrap himself around you as you lay with him. He buried his face in your breasts and wrapped his tail protectively around your waist.
You felt guilty at the thick warmth that pooled in your core. Gosh, no matter what happened, he was always so handsome.
"Yawne, I'm sorry we couldn't have our date," his voice came out jaggedly, rough like something that had been carved from metal.
You couldn't help but chuckle.
He had just gone through a psychic episode and had to be carried home yet he was still thinking about you. You shushed him softly, kissing his frown away.
He was barely audible, words muffled against your chest and broken up with sleep, "Tomorrow, Iet's go to our spot. We can spend all day there."
Your 'spot' was a small nook, high up in a tree that you and Neteyam had stumbled upon in your early days of flying. Over the years, you two had fixed it up: filled the space with woven hammocks and baskets, some still held your childhood toys.
Coming here was one of the only times you flew with your Ikran. It was almost sacred to you and up til now, you thought your beloved shared this sentiment. So why in Eywa's name would he bring her here— especially after what she had done.
"I hope you don't mind, I wanted to see what you Omatikaya do for fun," Sayemi drawled, almost tauntingly.
"Then it is done. We will show you our ways," you declared calmly, as if the intrusion hadn't fazed you. It was not fine but you would never speak against your betrothed in front of an outsider— Neytiri taught you that.
"First, we gather what we need for the day. Ma 'Teyam will go catch something to eat. We will collect water and berries," you declared. Neteyam stood to his full height at that, he had only brought his hunting knife so it would take him longer to make a clean kill.
His eyes flicked to yours and you could see the gears turning in his head. His forehead tensed as he worked his beautiful brain, already devising a plan of what he could catch to feed 3 people and how he could kill it by the laws of Eywa.
As you trudged along the thick branch of a tree, you couldn't help but roll your eyes to yourself in annoyance. You loved Neteyam more than you could even dream of putting into words, he was wise for his years, handsome and a skilled warrior with a bow. But at times like this his stupidity really shined through.
He had ruined the day's plan, rendered your satchel useless where it lay abandoned in a corner in the nook. It was filled with flowers and beads that you intended to use to make Neteyam a necklace. Now, you gritted your teeth in deep through, struggling to reroute your plans to make today as uncomfortable as possible for Sayemi.
What better way to do that than by setting her free in her most unfamiliar environment?
Deep in the forest, Sayemi follows the trail of glowing vines ahead of you. The wall of mystery she had built around herself broke slowly the further you ventured into the forest, replaced by a growing fear of what lurks in the greenery around her, what animals lurked in the bushes, all the plants she had never seen before.
"Does the tsahik have nothing better to do than accompany my betrothed and I on our day off?" your voice breaks the silence. "No one else in the village for you to poison?"
She scoffs, whipping around to face you with an ugly grimace plastered across her face. "Foolish girl- Just because your clan is too closed-minded does not mean it is poison!"
When you had first met her, you had respected her, maybe enough to look up to her. To carry the hopes and faith of your people as tsahik at such a young age— she was surely strong of heart. You had thought you could learn something from her, that surely there had to be a beautiful message hidden somewhere in this meeting.
But as she bared her fangs at you, a bitter seed planted itself in your chest. Tsahik was a title she was unworthy of, she carried something dark and sinister within her and now it was rearing its ugly head at you, unwelcomed yet unwavering in the face of this new forest.
"Careful tsahik, no one will hear you scream in this part of the forest."
If anyone had passed by, the sight before them would be no different than two feral cats. You dropped low, striking the tree trunk beneath you with your tail to send a lashing snap echoing into the air. After spending your entire life surrounded by some of the greatest warriors in your clan, you knew more than well the many ways to put someone on their back.
You hissed before lunging at her, a courtesy warning of sorts because though you had never seen her fight, you were sure she wasn't a threat. Sayemi stumbled back, eyes blown wide in shock as she struggled to regain her balance.
Terror flashed briefly on her face before she jumped backwards, light on her feet but you were faster-- before she knew it, she was pinned to the ground, held down by your sharp elbow pressed into her neck.
She flailed beneath you, her tail attempting to wrap around your arm to pull herself free. For such a cocky girl, it did not take much to strike fear into her heart.
"Let me make myself clear, I want you and your dark herbs out of my forest."
When you returned to the nook, Neteyam had already dragged a fresh kill in. No matter how difficult the task, it was no match for the determined warrior. If Lo'ak was here you could already imagine how he'd have taunted him: 'Who's the mighty warrior?'
The small space was filled with the scent of crushed herbs and roasting meat. He smirked as you and Sayemi approached, flashing you all his sharp pearly whites.
Neteyam didn't know exactly what had transpired, he would never imagine for the life of him that his most treasured betrothed would put her hands on someone. But he wasn't stupid, his expertise surpassed his age and the air was suddenly so thick with tension that his tail could slice right through it.
Sayemi— once cunning and armed with a sharp tongue— now resembled a kicked baby thanator.
The days blurred together after your little trip to the outskirts of the forest. You saw very little sign go Sayemi and her people around the camp and heard even less of her off-putting remarks. Your previous pride at establishing yourself had been rubbed away by the days of encompassing loneliness, to reveal what you truly felt at your core.
Humiliation.
By the time you had realised it, it was too late. While Sayemi had become a ghost in your life, so had Neteyam. He no longer sought you out at the spirit tree or your kelku late at night. At the clan feasts, he was either off showing Sayemi something or too surrounded by the wind-traders to even acknowledge your presence.
"Sister why the long face?" Kiri questions as she takes a seat beside you. Lo'ak scoffs, rolling his eyes with annoyance on your behalf. "Isn't it obvious? Look at where Neteyam is."
Kiri and Lo'ak followed your gaze to where the wind-traders danced around the fire. At the centre, Neteyam and Sayemi danced together, laughing at something you couldn't quite hear. You hated how angry the sight of them together made you but no matter how much you reassured yourself, your feelings continued to rot inside you. It went against everything in your nature.
"It is fine, he is welcoming them like a future leader should," you shut their comments down, your words convincing to not even yourself, "When is their replacement convoy arriving anyway?"
Kiri sighed in resignation, not wanting to push you any further. In her purest form, she was worried about you. On the other hand, though, the Sully children wanted to be as understanding as possible, they were all more than ready for the Tlalim people to leave.
"Dad says they should be gone before your bonding ceremony," Lo'ak says matter-of-factly. "At least they won't ruin your big day, am I right?"
What little resolve you had left snapped at the mention of the ceremony. You stood with a loud crash, throwing down your bowl in frustration as you stormed off.
Lo'ak couldn't stand to watch his older brother treat you this way anymore. You were a good girl, you had been at Neteyam's side for years and had always supported him in his duties. You didn't deserve this, that much he was sure of.
He marched over to the central fire. Lo'ak grabbed Neteyam roughly by his shoulder, ripping him away from whatever dance routine he was doing. "You skxawng! What are you doing?!" he hissed.
Neteyam huffed, "What does it look like bro? I'm having a good time." Sayemi lingered in his shadow, listening in on the brothers' conversation. Lo'ak's brows furrowed, shocked by his brother's newfound stupidity. "I mean what are you doing here. You should be with your future mate, preparing for your ceremony," he clarified, "This isn't how you treat people you love."
Neteyam's jaw clenched with Lo'ak's accusations. He snapped, "What do you even know about love little brother?" Lo'ak lunged at his brother, snarling in his face.
Sayemi made herself known, creeping to Neteyam's side. Her tail flicked against his leg. "They are not mated yet, he does not need to spend all his time with her," she purred. Lo'ak smirked bitterly at the pair, his gaze filled with scrutiny. Neteyam didn't even attempt to defend himself, he just stood there and let his guard dog speak for him.
That same night, after the fire had died down and the wind-traders returned to their section of the camp, you had enough of this uncertainty that weighed on your relationship.
Neteyam's kelku was away from where the Sully family resided. When he had turned 16 he had decided to live separately, claiming that it would help his wisdom grow. As you approached, a second voice emerged from within the kelku— Sayemi.
Since when had they gotten so close? What had their relationship flourished into during these past few days that he now comfortably brought her back to his kelku?
You halted your steps at her words, stomach tensing beneath where your palm clutched your core.
"Ma 'Teyam, my people and I leave in the morning, come with us."
Ma 'Teyam? The nickname alone had you ready to heave, the betrayal making you sick.
You turned to leave but her voice rose again. "I am tsahik, my father is old- You can soon take his place as Olo'eyktan and we will rule together." Your eyes welled with unshed tears, amazed at her boldness and silly ideas. It was foolish and yet- she had managed to uproot your life in just 5 days.
The sun bathed the forest's lush greenery in an orange hue. You woke from your sleep to the windray's howls, a beautiful sign of the Tlalim people's departure.
When you went to sleep, your chest had been tight with the pain of unspoken words, so much you had hoped to talk about with Neteyam and do in your life together. But you suppose with the drifting sound of the windray, he and Sayemi had departed.
All the hatred and anger you had kept tucked under your heart had fizzled away, only a dull ache remained under your skin. It would take some time before you could fully be yourself again but eventually, this would all pass.
A rapid drumming pulls you from your sleep once again. You recognise the silhouette instantly. There, outside your kelku, stood Neteyam.
"Baby, please come outside," he pleaded. You watched his shadow shift as he fidgeted anxiously, shifting on the balls of his feet in anticipation.
You drew back the curtain sharply. Neteyam’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of you, his eyes raked over your figure, breathing you in again after all this time.
For the first time in many moons, he looked at you-- really looked past the facade that had replaced your face. The top you wore was brand new, stained bright purple and fastened tightly across your breasts. When exactly had you stopped wearing the necklace he made you? He couldn’t help but assume the worst. Had you already given up on him and started to court another?
"My prince,” you gritted through your teeth, "Are you in need of healing?"
Neteyam locked eyes with you. Yours were red rimmed, the puffiness from the previous night's crying visible even as you batted your thick lashes. Neteyam had never seen your gaze so cold, as if you saw right through him and his all impressions. His hands shook with need to touch you and he quickly fell victim to his impulses.
But as he reached for you and you pulled away from his touch, the true understanding of the damage he had done unfolded before him. "Baby please don't do this- I just want you to talk to me."
You cut him off with a palm held up to his face, not even wanting to hear his grovelling. “You should go away if you are not sick.” The scent of herbs wafted off your hand, thick with the remnants of last night’s rituals. Guilt stirred in his chest as he realised he truly had no idea how you had been these last few days, how your tsakarem training had developed— the rollercoaster of emotions he had put you through.
You pushed past him roughly to make your way to the spirit tree, nudging his shoulder as you did so. Behind you, Neteyam frantically hopped along the tree branches, somehow struggling to keep up with your purposeful strides.
While Neteyam had not seen much of pandora beyond the forest, he had seen his fair share of breath-taking flora and fauna and he would swear on the great mother that you were the most beautiful woman he would ever meet.
You glowed in the morning light, your features illuminated by the dew despite the conflict in your soul. Behind you, your tail hypnotised him as it swayed in the rhythm of your hips.
"Ma yawne, you don't understand-"
"Enough. I heard what she said to you," you dismissed him. If you still cared for him, it was not evident in your tone. “Go be with your tsahik in the sky."
You didn't spare him another glance, quickly turning on your feet to get away from him. He trailed after you like a lost Ikran, relentless in his pursuit for your forgiveness.
You were not sure if he chased you out of determination to prove himself or the true love that he held for you in his heart. No matter how fast you walked, he still followed at a distance, calling out behind you.
Your tail cracked against his leg as you whipped around to face him. "Neteyam!" you barked, "I want nothing to do with you."
Before you could open your mouth again, another insult surely dancing on the tip of your tongue, he was closing the space between you. Neteyam's strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his firm chest. You wanted to be mad at him so bad but your heart still fluttered in your chest with how close he was.
He pressed his forehead to yours, his breath sweet as fresh fruit against your cheeks.
“I made a mistake, I pushed you away but I- I love you, sevin,” he rasped. “If you’ll still have me, I want to make this right.”
He didn’t deserve your forgiveness. He deserved to be shut out and discarded just as he had treated you for the entire time Sayemi was around. But yet- you couldn’t bring yourself to bear the pain of losing him forever.
You laced your fingers with his, pressing your joint hands to your cheek. The scent of the forest danced on his fingertips against your skin, soft and welcoming like always.
“Neteyam, you hurt me and I’m just not ready to let that go,” you sighed, your previous fury now dejected. “I know but-“
You shushed him, “I need time and space. Can- Can you just do that for me?.”
Time and space? What did that even mean? To him, it could be a day or two but to you— who had been shattered into a shell of the woman you once were— what did it mean to you?
Neteyam had never felt more defeated in his life. You wouldn't talk to him, look at him, refused to sit near him at feasts and you were never in your kelku when he went searching for you. You had erased him from your life, choosing to no longer wear the necklace or top he had woven for you.
On the first day, he came to your kelku at the first break of morning light but it was too late. All that remained as a sign of your presence was the scent of incense wafting out of your tent. He had no idea how you knew but from that day on, you did everything in your power to stay out of his way.
On the second day, he climbed one of the highest trees in the forest to bring you back your favourite fruit. Like a true skxawng, he fell and got a concussion. Even then, when he expected you to come running to the tsahik's tent to heal him, you never even graced his sight. Mo'at sighed as she rubbed salve on her grandson's bleeding head. He reeked of sadness at this point, she could only pray for him to find the guidance he needed.
It was day three. Three days of your agonising silence. At dinner last night, he saw you laughing with Tsey'lak-- a strong tsamsiyu from the patrol team— did he mean something to you? Guilt gnawed at him every hour of the day now, sleep evaded him these past days.
As the space between you two grew with your silence, so did the weight of the unspoken question, the one the villagers had begun to whisper about and the elders would surely start brining to his father's attention.
In 2 moons time, would there still be a mating ceremony?
At night, he stood outside your kelku, hoping to catch a glimpse of you but you always managed to come and go in the fleeting moments when he dozed off.
"Neteyam," his mother's voice is soft as she rouses him from his dazed state, "Are you sure you're ok?"
"Mother I'm fine," he brushed her off, standing to pace around the kelku.
Your absence consumed him. He no longer went on hunts or patrols with his father. For the better part of the day, you could find him just sitting in silence in his solitary kelku.
"Is this about your muntxa si? My son, you can tell me about these things," she reasoned with him.
Neytiri was doing her best, she cared for her son like a lifeline and Neteyam knew she only wanted the best for him but every word she spoke was putting him on edge right now, sending his tail pin-straight into the air.
"Mother please we are not mated yet," his voice raised, "We may never be mated now- because- because I-"
Before he knew it, Neteyam was crumbling to his knees in the tent. Neytiri rushed to his side, rubbing a soothing palm over her son's chest as he hyperventilated in her arms.
"I messed up. And she's so mad at me- she won't even speak to me." He felt sick as she spoke the words, the realisation of his mistake leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "The ceremony is in 2 days...there's no way she'll mate with me anymore."
Neytiri looked at her son— first born, future Olo'eyktan— the blood of Toruk Makto coursed through his veins. She would never forget the day he wrapped his little fingers around her own, just 4 of them, as Jake held him up to the sky. The stress creased into his face glowed in her eyes, his regret bounced off of him in waves.
If anyone knew how sorry Neteyam truly was, it was his mother.
"Do you still want this with her?" she asked softly.
"More than anything, Sa'nok."
Neteyam stumbled to his feet as his mother helped him up. He winced, her sudden flick to the forehead and slap to his back catching him off guard. "Ow-"
She hissed at him. "Enough sulking! You know what you must do. Go to her and make her see you."
Neteyam knew most of the story of how his parents had met. His father was from a star, years away from Pandora. When they had first met, his mother was going to kill him but Eywa stopped her.
If he was meant to have you then it was by the will of Eywa.
Neteyam waited til nightfall to seek you out. He imagines it was a night like this when his parents first made their feelings known to each other. It was a vast expanse of blue, bits of purple bleeding into the cracks behind the many moons. It was perfect.
You sat with your legs folded beneath you, hands crossed in your lap as you shut your eyes and prayed at the spirit tree. Times like these, Neteyam wished for nothing more than to peek into your mind.
Do you still think of him when you ask the Great Mother about your future?
"Tsahik I think I'll stay here for the night- Oh...Neteyam," your voice drops at the sight of him.
Despite the new bags forming under his eyes, he looked as handsome as ever. It had only been a few days since you last saw him but his figure was firmer now, his shoulders wider and biceps taut around his muscles.
"Is that what you've been doing? Sleeping here?"
He tilts his head at you, eyeing you inquisitively. There was no judgement in his tone but something about his entitlement to your life had your anger towards him flaring hot inside you. "What I do is none of your business!" you snapped.
"Mawey I didn't come here to fight," he pleaded, hands held up in faux resignation, "I just miss you, yawne."
To anyone else, the shift in your demeanour would have been nonexistent but to Neteyam— your betrothed who had lived and breathed your presence his entire life— it was everything. The subtle slouch of your shoulders, your pulled back ears, the soft flicker of your tail coming to a halt. You had accepted him, maybe you didn't realise it yet but he did and he knew then that hr had to seize the moment.
"You miss me? Then why did you do this to me- to us?" there was no trace of fight in your words for the first time in a long time as you faced him.
"Baby I've been trying to explain-" he was losing the battle against the search for the right words. Neteyam knew your favourite fruit and your favourite spot to collect fibres for weaving but he had no idea what to say to you in this moment. "My parents do it sometimes when they argue, to understand each other better... Make tsaheylu with me."
You rejected him without a second thought, hissing through your teeth, soft fingers colliding with his chest as you shoved him away. "Tsaheylu? We cannot! We would be mated."
Neteyam snatched your out-stretched finger, so relieved to feel your skin again that he didn't notice how your hand shook in his hold. It was this part about him that you hated, his ability to bring out this defiant beast inside of you. Only him and his tawtute nature could ever tempt you to bend the ways of the clan .
Maybe it made you naive and foolish but the little girl inside of you would always trust Neteyam with her life. Like a hook, he reeled you in, snuffing out any fire you had left in you. You didn't flinch when he grasped your braid, holding up the end to gaze at the dancing tendrils of your kuru.
"Baby, I wouldn't lie to you," his accent gathered thickly in his throat as he spoke, the sincerity of his words wrapping around you. "I was a fool and didn't realise her intentions sooner. You're the only one I want, I swear to Eywa."
His eyes flicked from your lips to cheeks to your lips again. You stared back at him with big, beautiful eyes, your love for him swirling in your irises. Any words you had planned to say died in your belly as your feeling for him bloomed in the pits of you, beating around like a trapped Ikran, you knew you had forgiven him then. It buried your anger, all the pain he had caused you and bubbled up through your chest.
"If you don't want this with me anymore, tell me now. I will not force this bond before the Great Mother," he surrendered, voice deep with regret.
For a second, Neteyam thought he had lost you. Until hope flashed across your eyes and your kuru flared hot in his palm.
"Ma 'Teyam, I see you," you whispered.
Your acceptance hit his cheeks like a kiss, soft and welcoming. His skin prickled with joy, all his concentration and hours of practiced speech going out the window. "Say that again."
"Oel ngati kameie."
He surged forward, lips engulfing yours as your teeth clashed in a kiss. You hummed against his mouth, overwhelmed by the taste of him filling your senses. His tongue was warm as it slid into your mouth, wet and sticky as he chased after the connection.
Behind you, you faintly registered the light dancing of his fingers against your skin. They ran up the back of your thighs, soft and soothing, dipped under your tweng to cop a feel of your ass before he was lightly tapping your hips. You jumped into his arms, legs wrapping perfectly around his waist— a little too comfortable for the future tsakarem of the clan.
Neteyam moaned against you as he licked into your wanting mouth. You could feel him, hot and heavy beneath his tweng, the leaking tip pressing into your covered core with every grind of his hips against yours.
"Neteyam," you panted, "The ceremony isn't until-"
"Fuck the ceremony. I need you."
He settled onto his knees, a low groan rumbling from his chest as his painfully hard cock nudged against you. It sent him scrambling to pull you back into his lip. He could smell you, you were soaked, sticky and clenching around nothing as you bit your lip and sized him up.
"Open up for me yawne," he chuckled.
Shame and decency were the last things on your mind, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as he shoved one, long finger into you. He dipped his middle finger into your cunt, gathering your slick to smear it messily across your clit, the tight button jumping under his touch.
Neteyam grinned, thoroughly pleased with the state of you.
Your nipples pebbled against his chest as he leaned into you. You had never felt more giddy in your skin, shuddering lightly as he nuzzled into your neck, whispering sweet nothings to you. He cooed at you, kissing under your ear and scissoring his index and middle into you.
"Oh Eywa- faster Ma 'Teyam," you gasped, light and airy, words dripping in your unbridled desire for him.
It was the image of sin. Neteyam— future Olo'eyktan— with his future Tsahik in his lap, her tweng pulled to the side as he pumped two thick fingers into her squelching cunt. His thumb rubbed sticky circles into your clit, eager to have your thighs shaking around him as you come undone. You prayed Mo'at wasn't coming back to the tree, eyes shut in pleasure as the sounds of your own wetness filled your ears.
His fingers scissored in and out of you hard, pressing once- twice against your sweet spot before your thighs were quivering, his name leaving your mouth in a broken gasp. Your toes curled against his back as you came, the newfound pleasure overwhelmed you.
"Wh- where did you learn to do that?" you stuttered, tongue damn near numb in your mouth.
"A mighty warrior never reveals all his secrets."
His response had a scowl forming on your pretty features. Your mind raced once again, had Sayemi told him about that? Had he thought about this with her? The thought grew lame in your head, mind suddenly going blank as everything became Neteyam once again.
When you registered it, blinking down slowly at the man settled beneath you in front the spirit tree, he was already bare. Tweng thrown aside somewhere, he pushed his strong hips up against you. Neteyam was rock hard, his fat cockhead throbbed against your weeping hole. You ached with every roll of his hips, sometime the tip caught deliciously on your slit, threatening to slip in with how your wetness coated his cock.
You grabbed his braid over his shoulder, catching him off guard and enough to bring his pleasurable ministrations to a stop. "Make the bond," you whimpered, your own sensual grinding replacing his, desperate to feel him against you in some way. "Tsaheylu with me and put it inside me already."
He was breathless, chest heaving as he gazed up at you. You were gorgeous, eyes tilted down to watch where your bodies met as your marking glowed bright under the night sky. He needed you viscerally. After days of yearning, years of pining during your courting, you were finally going to be his mate.
"Yeah, yeah, what my muntxate wants, she gets."
The tendrils of your kurus brushed, a spark rushed through you before they engulfed each other and then white flashed behind your eyes, every nerve in your body lit up like wildfire. You could feel him, see him— everywhere. You felt the thumping of his heart in your own chest, the twitch of his fingers on your waist and his cock, throbbing with need against your cunt.
He groaned your name as he pushed into you, ripped raw and guttural from his throat as you clenched around him. Your back arched at the sting, the fat tip pushing past that tight ring of muscle to stretch you open for him. "Baby relax or this perfect little hole is gonna push me right out."
"Ok 'm sorry, sorry 'Teyam."
He was barely halfway buried in you but you were already a babbling mess, drunk on the feel of him inside you and in your very soul. From the moment you decided not to run away at first sight of him, the battle between your mind and heart had been lost. You were his, his to hold, break and mould into whatever he desired.
Neteyam lifted you with ease, studying the tell-tale signs of your glazed over eyes, lips wet and plump from his claim over you. He laid you down on your back against the vines and you sighed blissfully, mind consumed by the feel of his firm body pressed against yours and where your sexes met in a pool of sticky white between your thighs.
His thighs flexed as he rolled his hips into you, muscles tensing as his hand let go of you swiftly to grip the exposed base of his cock. Could you really blame him for almost cumming so fast during his first time with the woman of his dreams? Your heels dug into his back as your legs found home around his waist, pressing down to push him forward in a sloppy thrust.
"Baby wait- wait, give me a minute," the mighty warrior stuttered, hips bucking reflexively into your warm cunt.
"No more waiting, just fuck me."
Neteyam choked at your words. You moaned softly beneath him, pushing yourself down against his cock in shallow bounces, a desperate attempt to feel him in your deepest parts. Everything was suddenly too much of a reality, your unabashed desire for him pulsed through the bond in surges, building into something so filthy he couldn't even manage to look you in the eye.
The hollow cove that surrounded the spirit tree echoed with the obscene sounds coming from your impossibly wet cunt. It renewed the vigour within him and his brows furrowed, his lips pulled between his bunny teeth in determination.
Neteyam grabbed you by the back of your thighs, drawing a gasp from you as he pushed your knees up to your head, exposing you to him fully. You turn shy under his intense gaze, his eyes never once meeting yours as his one-track mind hones in on where his cock is being swallowed by your pussy.
The new angle let him go deeper, his hips pummelling into you with a speed that knocked the air out of you. His precise movements made sure his cock brushed your cervix with every thrust. The sight of you beneath him drove him mad.
Neteyam's blood rushed to his ears, thumping wildly in his head and he throbbed inside of you, his fantasies finally having a chance to come to life. You enticed him in ways he didn't know were possible to feel for a woman.
"Mmm 'teyam," you moaned, your fingers teasing your pebbled nipples, "You're so deep. I can feel you everywhere."
"Fuck, if you keep talking like that 'm gonna cum."
You giggled, somehow willing the already strangling grip of your virgin cunt into a tighter vice around him, your wetness bubbled out at the site of your union. "Baby I'm serious, I'm trying to make it last," he groaned.
You felt his restraint, his desire and his primal need to make you swell with his cum all at once, flooding through the bond. He hovered over you, braids brushing against your cheeks as your arms circled his neck and pulled him into you. "Take what you need from me," you murmured into his neck, "Use me, cum in me. Give the clan an heir."
Neteyam growled at your words, the spoken truth of your shared desires. The skin on his neck tingled, registering the distant sounds of the clan feast but it was drowned out by the feel of your perfect walls fluttering around his girth.
You were made for him, he swore. He was determined to ruin you, your hole would never forget his shape, to make you ache for him to fill you again even when he was away.
Neteyam pounded into you harder, his balls wet with your overflowing slick as they slapped lewdly against your ass. His pace was vicious, he fucked you like a warrior, not a lover, desperate to feel you cumming around him.
"Cum for me yawne, you won't get my seed until you do," he demanded, voice dropped to a low, sexy timbre. His voice alone was enough to have pressure building in your lower belly. You were so close, veering on the edge with every drive of his hips to send his cock brushing against your sweet spots.
He dipped a hand between your legs, parting your folds to watch his girth disappear inside you and hummed. His thumb toyed with your clit, rubbing the pearly bug until you cried out and clenched around him.
Neteyam hissed, not stopping his smooth ministrations on your clit until he felt your fingers rake down his back. Your pussy twitched with the aftershocks of your orgasm, the pleasure you felt and your unyielding love for him transcended the bond. He could see it in your eyes as you gazed up at him, eyes lidded in bliss and your lips tilted in one of those smiles only he would ever see.
Your limbs grew numb with the aftershocks of your release. You let Neteyam use you like a toy, let him rut into you as he buried his cock to the hilt, over and over again. He chased his release in you, the warmth and wetness of your hole enough to break him.
He groaned your name and the bond pulsed hot with his release. He came in warm spurts right up against your womb. Even as his hips twitched with overstimulation, he shallowly drove his hips forward, pushing his cum deeper into you.
Neteyam let his full bodyweight fall on top of you, his cock still half-hard and quickly stirring back to life inside you. He hummed contentedly against you, the scent of him refreshing as he nuzzled against you.
In the dead of the night, under the spirit tree, as your mate lays exhausted against your naked chest, a lone atokirina lands on his back.
pairings: aged up ao’nung x metkayina female reader
notes: ao’nung is a womanizer, reader is shy & pure, ao’nung is tatted, angst with comfort, miscommunication, ao’nung & reader in their own turmoil, tsireya a literal sweetheart, slow burn but worth it cuz he’ll be obsessed soon, selective amnesia, ao’nung being a shameless yearner, tsaheylu, happy ending. smut & suggestive themes, p in v sex, ao’nung a muncher, corruption, virgin reader, tummy bulge, breeding.
i do not see ao’nung as a womanizer cuz one thing’s for sure is that he is like his father, a one man woman only. this portrayal of him is just for the plot cuz it’s fun to play around with personality of a character into something entirely different. don’t be an idiot yapping how they wouldn’t do this or that, this is fiction and i am not writing in their canon personality.
word count: 28.1k
prompt: you had always found ao’nung’s way with women to be disgusting, you believe sex should only be for the one you are mated with. everyone hoped he would change and it seems as if eywa had answered when you woke up calling the man you are disgusted with as your mate.
an: the lack of ao’nung & lo’ak fics in this fandom is making me tweak whenever i scroll. it does not help that ppl are wrong tagging, thought i found a good ao’nung or lo’ak fic after scrolling for god knows how long then it’s entirely a fic for another man with their tags smh
credits to @uzmacchiato (divider)
The sun hangs low over the reefs of Awa'atlu, casting a warm golden shimmer across the water that laps gently at the woven platforms of the village.
You sit cross-legged on a mat of dried kelp, your form draped in a simple top of woven fibers that clings lightly to the gentle swell of your breasts, the fabric shifting with each breath. Your wide hips settle comfortably against the mat, a natural curve that draws lingering glances from the warriors passing by. Their eyes tracing the smooth teal skin of your thighs before they force themselves to look away. However,!you pay them no mind, your reserved nature a quiet shield. Your pretty face, framed by loose waves of dark hair adorned with small shells, turned toward your best friend.
Tsireya.
She's perched beside you, her laughter bubbling up like the foam on the waves. She’s the only one who can coax the playful spark from you, drawing out giggles and shared secrets that make the world feel lighter. Today though, her expression carries a mix of exasperation and fondness as she leans in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"You won't believe the earful my brother got from Mother and Father last night. They were pacing the marui going on about his... habits."
You tilt your head, a soft smile tugging at your full lips, though your wide eyes hold a flicker of disapproval. Ao'nung, Tsireya's brother, the future Olo'eyktan, has always been a topic laced with complexity for you.
"What did they say this time?" You ask, your voice gentle as your fingers idly twisted a strand of seaweed while you listen.
Tsireya sighs rolling her eyes with dramatic flair, her tail flicking against the platform.
"The usual. That he's too old for this nonsense, that as the eldest and heir, he needs to be mindful of his actions. Ever since he passed his Iknimaya, it's like he's on a mission to bed half the village. Father said why must he tarnish his reputation with such recklessness and Mother was just staring him down."
She mimics Ronal's glare and you can't help but chuckle softly, the sound light and rare, reserved for these moments with her. You nod as your expression turned thoughtful, the sea breeze lifting strands of your hair to brush against your high cheekbones.
"I think he's handsome. However, it annoys me how he... how he takes women without any real feelings behind it. Sex is sacred, meant for mating, for tsaheylu, for binding souls under Eywa's gaze. Using it for anything less feels wrong, disgusting even." Your words come out measured, laced with a quiet conviction while your fingers stilled on the seaweed as you glance toward the path leading to the village center. "That's why I steer clear of him."
Tsireya's eyes widen slightly, a teasing glint in them, but before she can respond, movement catches your eye.
Speak of the devil, there he is.
Ao'nung striding past, his legs carrying him with effortless poise, the muscles in his thighs shifting beneath his loincloth. A giggling Metkayina woman clings to his arm, her hand trailing possessively over the intricate tattoos that mark his status. Her body pressed close to his side, her laughter high and breathless. His arm is slung around her waist, pulling her nearer as they walk.
"See?" Tsireya murmurs, her voice dripping with exasperation as she nudged your shoulder lightly with hers.
You feel a flush creep up your neck but you hold your gaze steady, watching as Ao'nung's eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment. There's a spark there, recognition flickering across his handsome features, the sharp line of his jaw tightening just a fraction.
Ao’nung finds you pretty, the way your delicate features and voluptuous form stand out even among the clan's beauties. But that's all it is, a passing appreciation, nothing more. His life is a whirlwind of duties as the future leader and the parade of women who vie for his attention. Tsireya's quiet best friend barely registers his mind amid the chaos of his everyday life.
A memory however surges in his mind, pulling him back to the night before. The marui had been thick with tension, the air heavy with the scent of healing herbs from his mother’s stores.
Tonowari sat on the woven bench, his massive frame hunched forward, arms crossed over his broad chest, the weight of leadership etched in the lines of his face.
"Son." He had rumbled, his voice deep and steady like the ocean's undertow. "You are to be Olo'eyktan. The clan looks to you for strength, for example. These... actions of yours is a headache we cannot afford. They respect you and follow you without question. Do not taint it."
Ronal had stood nearby, her posture rigid, hands clasped over her pregnant belly as she fixed Ao'nung with a gaze that could pierce kelp. "You are great at everything and yet this rendezvous of yours? It dishonors the path Eywa has set for you. Settle on one. Choose a mate. Be done with this foolishness before it stains our family's name or so help me Eywa, I will forget you are my son."
Her words had cut sharp, worry and frustration simmering beneath her calm for her eldest.
Ao'nung had leaned against the wall, his tattooed arms folded, a tilt to his lips that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll settle when Eywa wills it, Mother, Father. Not a moment sooner. I'm no skxawng, I know my duties but love? That's not something you command."
His tone had been firm, edged with unwavering resolve, though a shadow of doubt had lingered in the way his tail twitched.
Tonowari had sighed rubbing his temple while Ronal's lips pressed into a thin line, the conversation dissolving into uneasy silence.
The memory fades as quickly as it came, Ao'nung's gaze sliding away from yours back to the woman in his arms.
She whispers something in his ear, her fingers dancing along his chest and he smirks pulling her closer as they vanish around the bend of the path, their forms swallowed by the cluster of maruis.
You exhale softly turning back to Tsireya, your voice barely above the waves. "Your brother will probably never change unless a miracle happens."
She bursts into laughter, the sound bright and unrestrained, clapping a hand over her mouth as she nods vigorously. "Oh, you're right, (Y/N). A miracle indeed. But Eywa works in mysterious ways, doesn't she?"
You smile faintly, admitting to yourself the truth of your words earlier.
He is handsome, undeniably so.
The way his towering body moves through the water during hunts, spearing fish with unerring accuracy. Or how he's always been kind to you in passing, offering a steady hand when you stumbled on the reefs or sharing a quiet nod during clan gatherings. You've seen him help mend nets after storms, his strong arms hauling heavy loads without complaint. A great hunter whose prowess earns respect from even the elders. The only flaw, the one that sours it all is his reputation as a womanizer, leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake.
The girls in the clan chatter endlessly about it, their voices hushed during weaving sessions. "One day, I'll be the one to change him, to make him see me as more than a night's diversion."
They dream of taming the untamable but you shake your head at the thought. The day Ao'nung officially courts someone or Eywa forbid forms tsaheylu and mates, that would be the miracle of the ages.
Tsireya shifts closer, her expression turning curious, a playful lilt in her voice.
"Speaking of miracles... have you thought any more about those courting proposals? Narku from the hunting party left that beautiful shell necklace for you last week and Kiri'ka's been sharpening his spear extra sharp hoping you'll notice." She waggles her eyebrows, her tone light but probing with a genuine concern for your happiness threading through it.
You duck your head shyly, purple heat blooming across your cheeks as your fingers traced patterns in the mat.
"No, Reya. I refused them all. The necklace, the carved ilu figurine from Teylan, even the rare pearl from Vo'lek. They're fine warriors, strong and honorable but... it doesn't feel right." Your voice is soft and laced with that deep-seated reservation you always have, your body language closing in slightly with your shoulders hunched as if to ward off the idea.
She pouts but her eyes sparkle with affection. "Why? You're the prettiest in the clan. You'd make someone so happy!"
You laugh quietly shaking your head, the motion sending your hair cascading over your shoulder. The day you finally accept a courting proposal or mate with someone, that will be a miracle.
"I'm not in a rush, Reya. If Eywa wills it, love will find me when the time is right. For now, I'm content being by myself hanging out with you like this." Your words carry a peaceful certainty, your light smile genuine as you meet her gaze, the bond between you unbreakable.
She groans theatrically flopping back onto the mat, but her grin betrays her. 'Fine, fine. But I won't stop pestering you. I just want you happy, you know that.'
Her persistence is born of love, the kind forged since you were both tiny wriggling infants in the maruis.
Your mother, Riki'ea, had been best friends with Ronal. The two of them inseparable through hunts and healings, sharing secrets under the stars. When Riki'ea died bringing you into the world, her last breath a plea to the Tsahik. Ronal had sworn on Eywa's light to care for you as her own.
"She will be my daughter too." Ronal had vowed, tears streaking her face, her hand on Riki'ea's cooling one.
Tonowari and Ronal had stepped in without hesitation, helping your father, Ar'von, raise you amid the clan's rhythms.
Ar'von had never taken another mate, his heart tethered to your mother's memory, pouring all his devotion into you. Teaching you to swim before you could walk, his deep voice singing lullabies of the ancestors. He was a great warrior, Tonowari's steadfast comrade, until that fateful storm when you were thirteen. The winds howled like anguished spirits, waves crashing against the outriggers as he dove into the churning sea to save injured hunters, his strong arms pulling them to safety one by one. But the sea claimed him in the end, his body lost to the depths, leaving a void that echoed in your young heart.
Since then, Ronal had drawn you under her wing, training you in the healings arts. The careful grinding of herbs, the soothing chants over the wounded. She watched over you with maternal protectiveness, her guidance a balm to your grief of losing two parents. And through it all, Tsireya had been your constant, the two of you attached at the hip, exploring tide pools and whispering dreams late into the night.
Ao'nung had always been there on the periphery, hovering like a shadow. Offering a hand to steady you during your first free dive or quietly mending a tear in your fishing net without fanfare. He never crossed that line to true closeness, not like Tsireya. He was too absorbed in his own world of friends and rigorous training to forge deeper bonds but he was nice in his distant way, his presence a reliable hum in the background of your life.
Then came his Iknimaya, the rite that transformed him. He returned from the trials with those striking tattoos, bold lines curling over his biceps tracing the planes of his chest and back, symbols of his maturity and prowess. Women had flocked to him immediately, drawn to his newfound poise, the air in his step as he flexed those marked arms during communal feasts. You found it annoying, the way he toyed with their affections, careless with hearts that beat for him in earnest.
You've no experience yourself, no knowledge of the heated tangles of bodies or the raw urges that drive such encounters. The elders' teachings have painted it as sacred. A profound union reserved for the one you love, the partner with whom you'll form tsaheylu, weaving your kurus in Eywa's eternal bond. You believe in that love, pure and enduring, the kind that honors the spirit as much as the flesh.
For that, Ao'nung's actions disgust you. A perversion of something so holy and in quiet moments like this, you hope faintly that he finds someone who can pierce through his armor, someone to change his ways and lead him toward the man he could truly be.
Hours later, the afternoon sun beats down on the turquoise expanse of the reef, turning the water into a glittering mosaic of light and shadow as you guide your ilu through the currents.
Your body moves in harmony with the creature's powerful undulations, legs wrapped firmly around its sleek form, the cool rush of water caressing your bare skin where your loincloth rides up slightly against your thighs.
Beside you, Tsireya calls out with a laugh, her voice carrying over the splashes of the group of other gatherers from the clan who had nets at the ready to scoop up schools of fish darting through the coral. Ao'nung leads the way ahead, his broad back cutting through the waves, tattoos rippling with each stroke of his arms, his ilu responding to his commands with effortless precision.
You're focused, eyes scanning the vibrant underwater world for the telltale shimmer of a catch, your hair streaming behind you like dark ribbons in the flow. The ilu beneath you surges forward suddenly, chasing a cluster of plump fish and you lean into the turn, heart quickening with the thrill.
But then, chaos.
A rogue current twists unexpectedly, slamming your ilu against a jagged outcrop of coral hidden just below the surface. Pain explodes in your skull as your head connects with the sharp edge in a white-hot flash that blinds you. The world tilts as the water swallowed your gasp and darkness rushes in pulling you under.
Tsireya's scream pierces the haze first, raw and frantic as she wheels her ilu around, eyes wide with terror. "(Y/N)! Eywa, no. Ao'nung! Help her!"
Her voice cracks, hands trembling as she reaches for you but you're limp. Your body floating adrift, blood threading faintly into the water from the gash on your temple.
Ao'nung is there in an instant, his ilu powering through the water like a spear.
He dives off without hesitation, strong arms wrapping around your waist to haul you against his chest, one hand cradling the back of your head to staunch the bleeding. Your unconscious form molds to him, soft curves pressing into the hard planes of his torso, your chest rising and falling shallowly against his ribs, wide hips settling against his as he kicks toward the surface. Water streams from your lashes, your pretty face pale and slack, lips parted in silent vulnerability.
This is the first time he's held you so close and under such a grim twist of fate. He thinks you're clumsy, always have been in your quiet way but seeing you like this, so breakable and fragile, stirs an unfamiliar knot in his gut.
"Tsireya, head to Mother’s marui!" He barks, voice edged with urgency he's not used to feeling as he surfaces with you in his arms, your head lolling against his shoulder.
Tsireya nods, tears streaking her cheeks, urging her ilu toward shore while Ao'nung swims quickly. Your weight no burden to his warrior's build. He doesn't let go until they're at the shallows, scooping you fully into his arms to carry you the rest of the way. Your legs dangling over his forearm, the warmth of your body seeping through his damp skin.
The path to Ronal's healing hut blurs in a rush of worried murmurs from the clan but Ao'nung pushes through with Tsireya at his side, her hand clutching your trailing arm. Inside the dim marui, the air thick with the scent of medicinal pastes and smoldering herbs, Ronal looks up sharply from her worktable, her expression shifting from calm to alarm.
"What happened?" She demands, gesturing to the woven pallet as Ao'nung lays you down gently, your hair fanning out like seaweed across the fibers.
"Coral strike, head injury." Ao'nung says tersely, stepping back but not leaving, his eyes fixed on the slow rise of your chest.
Tsireya hovers, wringing her hands. "She was gathering then just... gone under."
Ronal works swiftly, cleaning the wound with cool water, applying a poultice of ground leaves that smells sharp and earthy, her fingers deft and sure.
Ao'nung lingers uncharacteristically still, concern etching his features. You're his sister's shadow after all and up close like this, you seem so soft, your supple form curled slightly even in oblivion.
Hours slip by in tense vigil, the light outside fading to the soft glow of eclipse. You stir finally, eyelids fluttering open to the thatched ceiling, a dull throb pulsing in your temple.
Tsireya gasps, leaning over you, her face a mask of relief and worry. "(Y/N), oh thank Eywa you're awake. How do you feel? Does it hurt that badly?"
Her voice wavers, hand squeezing yours tightly as her fingers interlaced with your slender ones.
Ao'nung stands nearby, arms crossed over his tattooed chest, a hint of relief flickering in his teal eyes at your awakening. He's still here, against his usual instinct to bolt after crises, drawn by some pull he can't name.
You blink up at them, vision clearing, and your gaze lands on him. His strong jaw, his piercing stare, the faint scar on his lip from a hunt gone wrong during your teen years. A warmth blooms in your chest, instinctive and sure.
"Ao'nung... why are you so far? Come here, ma muntxa."
The words tumble out soft and earnest, your head tilting in innocent confusion as you shift on the pallet, wincing slightly at the pull of your wound.
The room falls silent, shock rippling through them. Tsireya's mouth drops open, her grip tightening.
"W-what? (Y/N), that's... you can't mean—" She's stammering, eyes darting to her brother, remembering all the times you've whispered your disdain for his ways, how you've avoided him like a tainted current.
Ao'nung's lips curve into a smirk at first, a low chuckle escaping, thinking it's delirium or a jest to lighten the mood. "Cute but save the teasing for when you're not half-drowned."
But you only frown deeper, propping yourself up on one elbow, your free hand reaching toward him, the curve of your arm revealing the gentle swell of your breast beneath your top.
"Why would I tease? And why am I lying here like this? We should be together..." Your voice trails off shy but puzzled, eyes searching his face with a trust that feels utterly natural to you.
Ronal steps forward, her presence commanding as she kneeled beside you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Child, tell me your last memory. What do you recall before waking up?"
Her tone is calm and probing, eyes sharp as she assesses the blankness in yours.
You pause searching inward but there's only fog, a void where days and details should be. "I... I don't remember. Nothing's clear."
Your fingers twist in the edge of the pallet, vulnerability etching your features making your wide eyes seem even larger.
She nods unperturbed then leans closer. "And these words, you say Ao'nung is your mate? Explain, little one."
A shy smile graces your lips, cheeks warming as you glance at him again, seeing Ronal's son but overlaid with the certainty of your mating bond.
"Yes, Tsahik. We've mated, haven't we? For months now. Tsaheylu and all." Your voice holds a quiet joy, hand still extended toward him ignoring the stunned stares.
Ronal's gaze flicks to Ao'nung, catching the way his smirk falters into wide-eyed disbelief, his tail flicking sharply. A subtle smile tugs at her own lips, something knowing in her eyes.
Eywa's hand perhaps, weaving threads in unexpected ways.
As Tsahik, she senses the fragility of your state, the selective amnesia a veil over your true memories, and stressing it now could shatter the delicate recovery. "Rest now, child. Your body's mending."
Sleep tugs at you already, eyelids growing heavy, though not before you murmur with a soft and pleading voice. "Ao'nung... closer, please?"
He hesitates then steps forward under his mother’s piercing glare, kneeling beside the pallet so your reaching hand can brush his arm, the contact sending a faint spark through you both.
As your breathing evens into slumber, Ronal straightens, turning to her children with a stern whisper. "She must not be overwhelmed. No stress as her mind is healing, piece by fragile piece. This is my best friend's daughter, I swore to Riki'ea I'd guard her like my own blood."
Her words carry the weight of that old vow, eyes softening briefly before hardening on Ao'nung.
He opens his mouth as frustration bubbled in his chest but Ronal's sharp glare silences him.
Tonowari, who has entered quietly, places a heavy hand on his son's shoulder, voice rumbling low. "Just until she gets her memories back, son."
Ao'nung groans rubbing a hand over his face, the muscles in his jaw clenching.
Ronal presses on unyielding as she met his stare head-on. "You'll care for her, Ao'nung. She believes you're mates, pulling away now would wound her deeper than any coral. Stay by her side and let her heal in that belief until she remembers on her own."
Tsireya sighs deeply crossing her arms, her protectiveness flaring like a sudden tide.
"That means you stop your flirting, stop chasing every girl who bats her eyes. Don't hurt her Ao’nung, not while she's like this, vulnerable. She's my best friend and I won't let you play with her heart." Her tone is fierce as her eyes narrowed, a sister's warning laced with genuine concern for you.
Frustration coils in Ao'nung's chest at this situation he did not ask for.
You're pretty, always have been. That face like carved coral, body a temptation of soft curves and inviting lines but he's woven into the fabric of attention, the eager presses of other women against him, their whispers and touches a constant rhythm.
This? Pretending a bond that doesn't exist? It chafes against his freedom.
Ronal nods firmly. "Carry her to your marui. Mates wouldn't sleep apart, keep the illusion steady for her sake."
He sighs a long and defeated one, bending to slide his arms beneath you. One under your knees, the other supporting your back. Your body lifts easily, light in his hold, head nestling instinctively against his chest, your breath warm on his skin.
Tsireya glares daggers at him as she crossed her arm. "Take care of her Ao’nung or you'll answer to me."
He nods curtly just so they can all shut up, striding out into the cooling evening, your form cradled close to his chest.
You've always turned heads but now, with your lashes fanned against your cheeks, lips softly parted, he lets his gaze trail. Over the inviting line of your neck, the gentle rise of your chest with each breath, the way your hair clings damply to your shoulders. Something stirs unbidden as he enters his marui, the space sparse but his own, the woven walls of it fluttering in the breeze.
Carefully, he lowers you onto his sleeping mat, arranging the soft hides around your form, your legs curling slightly in repose. He stares for a long moment conflicted, the quiet of the space amplifying the thud of his pulse. Then shaking his head, he turns and walks out, needing to blow off some steam.
Not diving into beds this time but still, perhaps some flirting or a stolen kiss in the dark, something to reclaim the ease he's losing with this new situation at hand.
The first rays of dawn filter through the woven walls of Ao'nung's marui, casting a soft pearlescent light over the space.
Your head throbs with a persistent ache like the dull echo of waves crashing far offshore, pulling you from sleep. You shift on the sleeping mat, the hides warm beneath your bare legs as you blink against the haze, instinctively reaching out for the familiar solid presence that should be beside you.
Your gaze lands on him.
Ao'nung seated cross-legged a few paces away, his broad back to you, shoulders rolling with the rhythmic scrape of stone against metal. He's sharpening his spear, the weapon balanced across his thighs, its tip gleaming sharper with each precise stroke. The muscles in his arms flex subtly, tattoos shifting like shadows over his teal skin, and you can't help the sleepy smile that curves your lips. A surge of warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of your mate tending to his tools so early.
Quietly, you push yourself up, ignoring the twinge in your temple and shuffle forward on your knees. The mat whispers under you as you close the distance, your arms sliding around his waist from behind, palms pressing flat against the firm ridges of his abdomen through the thin weave of his loincloth. You nuzzle into the warmth of his back, inhaling the clean masculine scent of him, more of a sea spray and sun-warmed skin.
"Good morning, 'Nungie." You murmur, voice thick with lingering drowsiness yet still laced with an adoration that feels as natural as breathing.
He stiffens instantly, body going rigid under your touch, the spear pausing mid-stroke.
The nickname hits him like a sudden current, intimate in a way that sends an unexpected jolt through him. Your voice wrapping around it the nickname with such unguarded affection that it’s almost cute to him. Memories of his mother's stern command and Tsireya's warnings flash in his mind. No stressing you, no pulling away, or face the fallout if you break down in tears to his sister.
He exhales slowly, forcing the tension from his frame, and leans back into your embrace, the solid weight of his shoulders settling against your chest.
He tells himself in a few weeks, your memories will resurface and he'll slip back into the life he knows. Surrounded by eager women, their hands on him, their laughter filling his nights. A free man and away from this tangled obligation.
"Good morning, (Y/N)." He replies in a casual tone, almost offhand as if this is just another dawn.
Your forehead creases in confusion, a flicker of hurt tightening your features. You pull back slightly, rising to your feet with a soft rustle then circle around to sit in front of him, your knees tucked under you. Your lips form a cute pout, full and downturned, drawing his eyes despite himself. The way it plumps your mouth, making you look endearingly petulant in his eyes.
"What's got your lips in a pout, (Y/N)?" He asks, curiosity edging his voice as he sets the spear aside, the stone clinking lightly against the floor.
The pout deepens as your eyes narrowed just a touch, hands folding in your lap where your fingers twist together.
"See? There it is again. Did I do something wrong?" Your words come out soft but insistent, a thread of worry weaving through them.
He chuckles, low and puzzled, head tilting as he studies your face. "Huh?"
"You keep calling me by name. Are you mad at me?"
The question hangs between you, your gaze searching his, vulnerable in its directness, the morning light catching the subtle glow of your eyes as you gaze at him.
Ao'nung's chuckle fades as realization dawned on him like the sun cresting the horizon.
Your amnesia has rewritten your dynamic into something far more personal and that probably includes nicknames. He has no clue what endearment your fractured mind has invented for itself but stressing the truth now would only invite chaos.
Playing it safe, he leans forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Oh, then what is it you want me to call you so you can stop pouting?"
This way, he fishes information without revealing the gap and he can keep the illusion intact.
You glare at him playfully, the expression making you resemble a sulking child. All wide eyes and stubborn chin which only pulls another laugh from him, genuine this time as it rumbled deep in his chest.
"Yawntu." You declare, crossing your arms over your chest, the motion accentuating the gentle swell of your breasts beneath your woven top which he tries not to look at.
Instead he nods, suppressing a smirk at how easily you've handed it over. "I'm sorry, yawntu. I was just messing with you."
You scoff, a light huff escaping as you uncross your arms, but the pout eases into a reluctant smile, his words smoothing the wrinkle from your forehead.
He thinks his ploy worked seamlessly, you buy it without question and the trust in your eyes a quiet weight he hadn't anticipated. Shifting gears, he scans your face as concern flickered briefly when his gaze drifts to the bandaged gash on your temple, the skin around it still faintly bruised.
"Are you hungry? Does your head still hurt?"
You nod, one hand drifting to clutch your stomach, the faint growl audible in the quiet marui. "I am hungry but my head only hurts slightly now. A dull ache, nothing like before."
He rises fluidly as he extended his hand palm up, visible calluses are seen, rough from years of handling weapons.
"Let's get breakfast then." His voice carries a casual warmth, masking the internal tally of how long this charade might last.
Your face lights up, a beam spreading across your features as you slip your hand into his, fingers interlacing with a natural ease that sends a subtle warmth up his arm. The contact lingers as you both stand and he moves to withdraw once you're steady on your feet but your grip tightens, holding firm as your thumb brushed absently over his knuckles.
He pauses then lets it be, the unexpected cling stirring a faint curiosity in him as you step out into the bustling morning of Awa'atlu.
The village hums with life, weavers calling to each other over glowing braids of kelp, children darting between maruis with laughter trailing like bubbles. Heads turn as you walk hand-in-hand toward the communal eating area, the sandy paths crunching softly underfoot.
Ao'nung, the clan's notorious charmer, linked with you. The elusive beauty who's turned away every suitor, always shadowed only by Tsireya's side. Whispers ripple through the air like wind over water. He's never paraded his flings like this. With them, it's waists gripped possessively or arms draped around his, only fleeting and bold.
But you?
Your hand in his feels different, your steps syncing with his in a rhythm that draws more eyes than he'd like.
You shrug off the stares with a soft inward smile, assuming it's lingering surprise at your mating bond, the clan still adjusting to the idea of you and Ao'nung as one.
He knows better.
Their gazes carry judgment, speculation, the sting of his altered habits hitting close. Yet he doesn't pull away, his fingers flexing slightly around yours, the warmth of your palm a steady anchor against the growing murmur.
Your eyes sparkle as you spot the sacred table ahead, elevated on a woven platform overlooking the reef, where Tsireya sits with Ronal and Tonowari. Fresh fruits and smoked fish steam in shallow bowls, the air rich with the aroma of roasted roots. Without hesitation, you tug Ao'nung forward, your pull gentle but determined, leading him like it's the most natural path in the world.
Ronal's sharp eyes soften at the sight, a pleased curve touching her lips as she watches you draw her son along. It warms her to see him yielding, even if temporarily. It was adorable really, the way your fingers stay laced with his, your body leaning slightly into his side as if seeking his strength.
Perhaps Eywa's guidance after all.
She muses stirring her tea with a subtle nod of approval.
Tsireya looks up, her smile bright and genuine as she waves you over. She says nothing about the hand-holding, though her gaze flicks to it with a mix of relief and caution, keeping the fragile peace.
"Come sit, (Y/N)! We've saved spots for you both." Her voice bubbles with forced normalcy, hiding the protective undercurrent as she pats the mat beside her.
The table draws every eye in the eating area. Clansfolk pausing with utensils halfway to mouths, conversations dipping into hushed tones. Especially the women, clustered in groups, their whispers sharp and envious.
You remain oblivious, focused on the spread, but Ao'nung feels the heat of their stares like prickling sunlight on his skin, a reminder of the attention he's traded for this pretense. Still, he doesn't release your hand until you're seated, the circle complete around the sacred space. In fact, as the meal begins, he reaches for the platters with his free hand, selecting pieces you favor. The tender strips of fish grilled with sea herbs, the juicy segments of reef fruit that you've shared with Tsireya on countless mornings he's observed from afar.
He piles them onto your plate, the motion deliberate, his arm brushing yours in the close quarters.
"Here, eat what you like." He says, voice low and almost gruff, masking the odd satisfaction in providing for you.
You glance up, a shy smile blooming as color touches your cheeks, your free hand covering his briefly in thanks before you finally let go to pick up a piece of fruit.
"Thank you, 'Nungie." You whisper, the nickname slipping out again, soft and intimate amid his family's chatter.
The sudden absence of your touch leaves his hand feeling oddly cool, fingers curling absently as if chasing the warmth. He shakes it off, turning to his own plate, spearing a chunk of meat with more force than needed.
The women's heated glares bore into him from across the way, longing and accusation in it but he ignores them. His jaw set, focusing on the flavors bursting on his tongue, the easy flow of conversation around the table pulling him into the moment despite the frustration simmering beneath.
After that, the days blur into a rhythm that's both unfamiliar and oddly comforting with your steps shadowing Ao'nung's through the winding paths of Awa'atlu. You trail him from the training sands where he drills with the younger warriors, your presence a quiet constant at the edge of the circle, to the marui where he repairs nets under the afternoon sun.
He doesn't shoo you away.
In fact, he slows his pace sometimes, glancing back with a nod that invites you closer. Your sweetness wraps around him like the gentle swell of tides. Your small gestures like brushing sand from his shoulder after a spar or offering a woven cord to tie back his hair when the wind tugs at it. Affection flows from you towards him, evident with a hand grazing his arm as you pass a water gourd or leaning into his side during quiet moments by the fire pits. Each time, surprise flickers in his eyes, a brief widening before it softens and he's starting to lean into it, the warmth of you seeping past his guarded edges.
It's a stark shift from the woman the clan knew. You were always so reserved, your laughter only for Tsireya's ears alone, your body language a careful veil of distance around everyone else. Now, you're blooming in his orbit, the very man whispered about as too wild to tether and it stirs something in the onlookers.
For Ao'nung, it's disorienting at first, this clingy devotion from someone who'd barely spared him more than polite nods before. But as the sun arcs higher each day, he finds himself anticipating your approach, the way your fingers seek his in passing crowds.
Nights have transformed too.
The first evenings after your accident, you'd curled against him on the sleeping mat, your limbs seeking his heat while he lay stiff, allowing the contact but withholding his own. His arms were folded and breath measured to avoid entanglement with you. Now, as twilight deepens the marui's glow, you press close with your cheek nestling into the crook of his neck, legs tangling with his under the hides.
He hesitates only a beat before his arm drapes over your waist pulling you flush, his palm splaying wide across the dip of your lower back. The difference settles over him like a sigh. Your softness molding to his harder lines as breaths synced in the dim light and for those hours, the world narrows to the steady rise and fall of your shared rhythm.
Time weaves you together in stolen pockets. Mornings breaking fast with shared glances across the communal mats, afternoons where you sit nearby as he carves bone tools, and evenings mending gear side by side. He's growing fond and undeniably, your quiet care chipping at the walls he's built, making the days feel less like a duty and more like... something real.
Yet beneath it, a pull tugs at him with the memories of his old freedoms. The rush of new skin under his hands, the electric chase of fleeting nights with women who knew the game as well as he did. He misses that spark, it was the variety that kept his blood humming.
And always, the question lingers in his mind, when will the fog lift from yours? When will those clear eyes remember the truth and shatter this fragile illusion?
Today finds you both at the beach's edge where the reef kisses the shore in frothy whispers. The sun hangs low painting the waves in molten gold and you've knelt in the shallows as water laps at your thighs.
Ao'nung stands a few paces back with his arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a gaze that's grown habitual.
You're gathering shells, fingers sifting through the damp sand, unearthing iridescent treasures that catch the light. A beam lights your face, wide and unguarded, with cheeks flushed from the salt spray and your hair cascading in loose waves down your back, clinging slightly where the mist has touched it.
He looks down at you, the angle framing your features in a way that steals his breath for a moment.
He silently admits you're pretty, the curve of your jaw soft under the dying light, your lips parted in concentration as you examine a find. He's long grown accustomed to seeing you in Tsireya's wake, a shadow of gentle poise. Your interactions with him limited to courteous words and that undercurrent of disappointment in your eyes whenever he'd stride past with another woman draped on his arm. Growing up in the same guidance of his parents, you'd shared spaces but never closeness. Your reserve a barrier he'd never bothered to breach, assuming it matched his own disinterest in anything.
Now though, your amnesia has rewritten the script. You cling to him with a faith that's both bewildering and intoxicating, your body seeking his like it's always belonged there.
Is this what mating truly means?
He ponders it as the waves curl at his feet, the warmth of your proximity a steady hum against the chaos of his past.
It's not the wild pulse of conquests, the quickened hearts and whispered promises that dissolved by dawn. This is quieter, a constant tide that’s reliable and enveloping, pulling him under without the crash. Before the accident, he'd been certain that his life of freedom was the only one worth living, no chains of commitment to dull the edge. But standing here, watching the joy radiate from you, doubt creeps in.
Which existence holds more? The fleeting highs or this deepening anchor?
You glance up suddenly, eyes sparkling like the foam around you. You were holding aloft of a shell in your palm, a flawless teal curve that’s veined with subtle pearlescence.
"Look, 'Nungie." You say, voice bright with delight, the nickname tumbling out with that endearing lilt, your smile stretching wide enough to crinkle the corners of your eyes. "It's the color of your eyes."
Adorable. Eywa, you're utterly adorable beaming up at him from the sand, water droplets tracing paths down your neck, soaking into the edges of your top where it clings to the swell of your breasts.
He crouches slightly to meet your gaze, a half-smile tugging at his lips despite the internal whirl.
"It is very pretty, yawntu." He murmurs, voice low and warm, the endearment slipping out smoother now and laced with a teasing affection that masks the way his pulse quickens.
Your smile widens, satisfaction glowing in your expression as you tuck the shell into the woven pouch at your hip, the motion swaying your hips subtly. Rising from the shallows, sand sluicing off your legs in rivulets, you close the distance in two fluid steps, the wet fabric of your loincloth darkening against your skin. Without warning you lean in, pressing a smooch to his lips, tasting of salt and the faint sweetness of the fruit from breakfast.
He freezes, body locking as your supple mouth softly molds to his, the unexpected press sending a shock of heat straight through him.
But resistance crumbles fast as instinct takes over, he kisses back with one hand rising to cup the nape of your neck, fingers threading into your damp strands. He deepens it, tilting his head to claim more, tongue brushing yours in a slow exploratory glide that draws a soft hum from your throat. His other arm snakes around your waist, hauling your frame against his, the contrast of your curves to his solid build igniting a low burn in his gut. Your body so pliant, pressing into him with innocent eagerness.
You smell incredible too, a heady mix of ocean brine and the faint floral trace of your skin, clean and inviting. And your form... it's a torment, all softness where he is taut, your breasts flattening against his chest, hips slotting perfectly into the V of his thighs. It was fucking delicious the way your waist nips in before flaring to those wide hips, the subtle give of your flesh under his grip, promising depths he hasn't explored but now craves with a sharpening edge.
You pull back first, a shy smile curving your lips against his, breath mingling in the scant space between you as your cheeks bloomed with a deeper flush.
He looks so handsome like this, up close. Tattoos curling over his shoulders like living vines, framing the sharp lines of his jaw, his full mouth still parted from the kiss. Those piercing eyes, half-lidded now with a hunger that's new and unchecked, drop inevitably, tracing the path down your body.
It lingered on the way your top strains over the full mounds of your tits, nipples pebbling faintly against the damp weave then lower to the shadowed cleft where your loincloth hugs the mound of your pussy, the fabric clinging just enough to hint at the warmth beneath.
The gaze sends a shiver through you but you hold his stare, the air thickening with unspoken want, the waves' murmur the only sound as tension coils between you like a gathering storm. The pull of your lips lingers like a brand but Ao'nung draws back anyway, his breath ragged against your skin. Every fiber in him screams to dive deeper, to chase the heat blooming between you, but he reins it in sharply.
In your mind, this is the bond of mates, sacred and sure, but he carries the weight of reality. The accident's cruel twist, the amnesia that paints him as your everything when he's just the brother of your closest friend. He's bedded plenty, chased pleasure without strings but you... you're untouched, a purity he won't tarnish, not like this. Not when it's all built on fog and forgotten truths.
His thumb brushes your jaw once, a fleeting anchor before he straightens, voice roughened at the edges. "Come on, let's go back."
You nod as the afterglow softened your features and slip your hand into his, fingers lacing with a giddy squeeze that tugs at something deep in his chest.
The path back through the village feels charged, the air thick with the scent of salt and blooming night flowers as maruis glow softly in the dusk. Eyes follow you from the women of the clan, their gazes sharp and lingering on the man at your side, the one they've known as untamed, always slipping away before dawn. A sour twist knots in your gut, unfamiliar jealousy flaring as you catch their stares, possessive in a way that surprises even you.
One in particular stands out, leaning against a woven wall with arms crossed, her form silhouetted by the firelight inside.
Saraye.
Her name surfaces from the haze of your altered memories, a woman you'd glimpsed more than once in Ao'nung's company before everything shifted, her laughter echoing from his marui on restless nights. Her eyes narrow now tracing the joined hands, her lips pressing into a thin line of what might be envy or resentment. But Ao'nung doesn't spare her a glance; his focus stays forward, thumb absently stroking the back of your hand as he leads you onward, the simple act easing the bitterness in your throat into a faint relieved smile.
Inside his marui, the space feels more like home with each passing evening. The low ceiling draped in nets, the faint tang of sea air mingling with the herbs Ronal left for your healing. He settles you on the mat with a gentleness that belies his warrior's build, broad shoulders flexing as he portions out dinner of fresh fish grilled over a small flame, its flaky flesh steaming beside woven baskets of fruit. You eat side by side, his knee brushing yours, the quiet broken only by the distant crash of waves.
When the meal ends, you shift closer, drawn by the solid warmth of him, sprawling across his chest like it's the most natural place in the world. His arms encircle you without hesitation now, one hand resting at the small of your back, the other tracing idle patterns along your arm in skin to skin motion, the contact a steady pulse that lulls you.
Sleep heavily pulls at you contentedly but not before you nuzzle into the curve of his neck, lips brushing a soft drowsy kiss there, right over the ridge of his pulse. The spot tastes of salt and him, warm under your mouth, and you feel the vibration of a stifled groan rumble through his throat, his grip tightening fractionally on your hip. It's enough to send a lazy spark through you but exhaustion wins as your eyes flutter shut, breaths evening out and you drift off with your body lax atop his.
He lies awake longer staring at the woven ceiling, the echo of that kiss replaying in his mind. The unintended tease of your lips on his skin. Eventually, sleep claims him too, his hold on you loosening into something protective and instinctive.
Hours later, the morning light filters through the marui's entrance, a soft glow that stirs you from the depths of rest.
Ao'nung's movements rouse you full with the shift of his weight and the quiet rustle as he rises. His form looms in the half-light, tattoos stark against his blue skin, muscles coiling under the early chill as he straps on his gear.
"I have to leave early." He says, voice low and gravelly from sleep, patting your head with a large palm that lingers a beat too long as his fingers combed through your tousled hair. "Hunting party."
You nod rubbing sleep from your eyes, the mat cool where his warmth had been. He's turning away when your hand shoots out, catching his wrist in a loose but insistent grip.
"Kiss before you leave, 'Nungie." You murmur, voice thick with lingering drowsiness, lips forming a sleepy pout that tugs at the corners of your mouth. "It's our thing, remember?"
His heart stutters a heavy thud against his ribs. This simple request, so earnest and routine in your fractured world, hits like a spear's tip.
He imagines it then, the life of true mates, your lips meeting his each dawn before the hunt. A warm body waiting in the marui upon his return, steady and waiting. No more empty nights, no chasing shadows. But no, he shoves the thought down, clinging to the wilder memories, the freedom that still calls like an old habit.
This can't be it, not when it's all illusion.
Still, he leans in cupping your face with one hand, his mouth pressing to yours in a firm lingering kiss. Soft at first then deepening just enough to taste the sweetness of your breath, tongues brushing in a slow slide that leaves heat pooling low in his gut. He pulls back before it can ignite further, eyes dark with restraint.
"Go hang out with my sister to kill time." He says, voice steady despite the internal storm. "I'm sure she misses you."
You nod again, a sleepy smile curving your lips as you watch him slip out, the flap of the entrance falling shut behind his retreating form. The marui feels emptier without him but you burrow back into the hides, sleep reclaiming you for a few more hours, your dreams laced with the phantom press of his mouth.
When you wake properly, the sun climbs higher, warming the air. The pouch of shells from yesterday sits nearby, a colorful bundle that draws your eye.
You've missed Tsireya fiercely, your days swallowed by Ao'nung's orbit and the thought of her pulls you to your feet. Dressed in your simple coverings, the fabric light against your skin, you make your way to her family's marui, the village humming with midday activity of children splashing in shallows and weavers calling out rhythms.
You spot her on the deck outside, perched on a low stool with a basket of healing herbs in her lap, her frame relaxed as she sorts leaves, curls swaying gently in the breeze.
"Reya!" You call, voice lifting with genuine joy as a beam broke across your face when you approach.
She looks up, her expression brightening into a wide smile, waving you over with an enthusiastic sweep of her arm.
"Come, sit." She says patting the space beside her, eyes crinkling at the corners with warmth.
You settle close, the wood creaking under you, and the words tumble out. How you've missed her laughter, her stories, the ease of your shared silences now overshadowed by the pull toward her brother.
She pouts playfully, sticking out her lower lip in mock offense though her eyes sparkle.
"My brother's stealing you away." She teases nudging your shoulder with hers, the contact light and familiar. "I barely see you anymore."
You giggle, the sound bubbling up light and free, covering your mouth with one hand.
"Well, he's my mate now so my time has been consumed." You reply, the words matter-of-fact in your altered certainty, laced with a shy affection that colors your cheeks.
A flicker crosses her face, it was hesitance, brief but there like a shadow over clear water. She wonders in that split second if your memories will return before Ao'nung's old ways resurface, before he crosses a line that could shatter you both. But she masks it quickly, nodding with a soft hum.
"I know." She says, voice gentle, steering the conversation onward.
You smile shyly pulling out your weaving tools and the shells from your pouch, fingers deftly beginning to thread them into an armband. It was of teal and pearlescent strands twisting around a base of supple vine, each piece chosen for its luster.
"I can't believe I'm mated to him, Reya." You confess, eyes focused on the work but voice dreamy, a soft wonder threading through it. "It feels like yesterday when we were talking about how he'd never be tied down."
Tsireya's smile stiffens at the edges, the irony twisting in her chest. It is only several days ago, those same conversations where you'd wrinkled your nose at his reputation but you can't recall. She forces a light laugh, reaching over to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.
"I know." She echoes, tone careful. "My brother has been so soft with you. It's... different. Good different."
Your face lights up at that, a bright flush warming your skin as you glance at her, pride and happiness mingling in your gaze.
She gestures to the armband taking shape in your lap, the shells catching the light like captured stars.
"For my brother?" She asks, curiosity tilting her head.
You nod shyly biting your lower lip as your fingers pause, the vine curling under your touch.
"I haven't given him anything yet." You admit, voice dropping to a murmur as a touch of embarrassment heated your ears. "It feels right though. Something to show... him."
She giggles then, the sound genuine and light, easing the tension in her shoulders.
"He'll love it." She assures, watching your progress with an approving nod but her mind races ahead, and she adds almost casually. "I'm also surprised he hasn't made his advances."
The words catch you off guard, a subtle warmth stirring low in your belly at the implication. Tsireya's eyes widen slightly at her own boldness but she recovers with a quick smile.
"He's respecting your purity and innocence." She explains softly, choosing her words like steps on uneven ground. "You have no experience, remember? Maybe he doesn't want to pressure you."
You bite your lip harder, the plump flesh whitening under your teeth, a flicker of uncertainty mixing with desire. Ao'nung's restraint has been a quiet frustration. The way he responds to your touches but never pushes, always drawing the line just beyond your reach.
"Maybe I should give a hint?" You muse, voice tentative as you glanced at her for guidance. "It's okay because we're mated. Sex must be for my mate only."
Nervousness tightens her features, a subtle crease at her forehead. She knows your true stance, the disgust you'd voiced for casual unions, the reverence you hold for bonding. And worse, you're not truly mated, a truth she can't voice yet without unraveling everything. She swallows reaching for your hand, squeezing it reassuringly.
"I think you should wait first until you're really ready." She says gently, her tone laced with concern masked as sisterly wisdom. "I know how much you cherish yourself. Don't rush what feels sacred."
She's right, the words settling like a cool wave over your heated thoughts. Ao'nung has been nothing but patient, mirroring your pace, his responses a mirror to your affections without overstepping.
But still, what if you try?
"I guess so." You agree, a small sigh escaping as you resume weaving, the shells clicking softly.
By the time the armband is finished, the sun dips toward the horizon, the piece a delicate band of color and texture, perfect for wrapping around his strong forearm. You hold it up admiring the way it shimmers, a shy anticipation building within you.
Tonight when he returns from the hunt, you'll give it to him as a token, a step closer in this life you believe is yours.
The sun hangs low over the reef, painting the waves in strokes of molten gold as you stand at the shore's edge, the damp sand cool between your toes.
You've taken care with your appearance today, the beaded necklace top clinging just enough to accentuate the gentle swell of your breasts, each strand of shells and pearls shifting with your breaths, drawing subtle outlines against your skin. The loincloth hugs your hips tighter than usual, the woven fabric tracing the curve of your thighs leaving your legs bare to the breeze that carries the tang of salt and distant kelp.
Inside Ao'nung's marui, tucked safely away, waits the armband you've crafted with a quiet promise and woven with intention.
Your gaze scans the horizon, heart quickening with each passing moment until the silhouettes emerge from the sea. The hunting party with their ilus gliding through the shallows, riders dismounting with spears in hand and hauls of fresh catch slung over shoulders. Your eyes lock immediately on him, Ao'nung, his broad frame cutting through the water like a shadow given form.
He's already watching you, those intense eyes narrowing with a heat that sends a rush of warmth flooding your cheeks, turning your skin a deeper shade of turquoise.
You smile widely up at him, the giddiness bubbling over as your stare roams his body.
The intricate tattoos swirling across his teal chest and arms, inked lines that speak of battles won and rites passed, his muscles still taut from the hunt, glistening with seawater that traces rivulets down his abdomen.bIt dips lower, your gaze trailing to the low-slung loincloth that barely conceals the powerful lines of his hips and your thoughts scatter as heat pooled low in your belly.
You haven't crossed that final threshold yet, the bond in your mind sealed only by the memory of tsaheylu, a spiritual tie without the physical claim. But tonight, after you present the armband, perhaps you can offer more. Your first time given freely to the mate you know him to be. The idea makes you bite your lower lip in a sharp tug of anticipation as he strides toward you, the other hunters trailing behind with knowing glances.
Without a word, you step into his space, arms wrapping around his waist in a tight hug, your cheek pressing to the damp warmth of his chest as you inhaled the mingled scents of ocean and exertion.
"I've missed you, 'Nungie." You murmur against him, voice soft but laced with that earnest longing that's become your rhythm.
He chuckles low, the sound vibrating through you, a rumble that eases the ache of the day's separation, even as the men around you exchange teasing smirks and elbow nudges, their laughter muffled but present.
Ao'nung's arm curls around your shoulders, pulling you closer for a beat before he guides you away, your hand finding his naturally, fingers intertwining as you walk the path to his marui. You feel his stare on you the whole way, heavy and appraising as it lingered on the way your top sways with each step, the tighter cloth molding to your form and highlighting the sway of your hips.
Inside, the space is dimmer now, lit by the fading light filtering through the entrance, the air still carrying the faint spice from earlier meals.
You've prepared ahead, knowing the toll of a hunt. A spread of roasted stingray, its flesh tender and spiced with reef herbs, alongside sliced fruits and a bowl of fermented root drink.
His eyes widen slightly as he takes it in, surprise flickering across his features before softening into something appreciative, a nod of thanks as he sinks onto the mat beside you.
You eat together, the flavors bursting on your tongue and you fill the quiet with tales of your day. Tsireya's laughter over shared shells, the way she braided a new strand into your hair, her gentle probes about your budding life with him.
He listens intently, fork paused midway to his mouth, his gaze steady on your face, absorbing every detail with a quiet intensity that makes your pulse skip.
But you're bolder tonight, touchier, your knee pressing against his thigh under the pretense of closeness, fingers brushing his arm as you gesture. Each contact deliberate, a slow seduction woven into the mundane. When the meal ends, he clears the remnants with efficient movements, stacking the mats and rinsing the bowls in a nearby basin, his back to you for a moment, his tattoos flexing with the pull of his shoulders.
You wait heart thumping until he turns back and then you rise, holding out the armband with shy fingers, the shells catching the low light in a shimmer of teal and white.
"For you." You say softly, eyes lifting to meet his as a flush creeped up your neck.
Surprise etches his face, deepening the lines around his eyes but he takes it gently, turning the piece over in his large hands, admiring the careful weave and the way the colors echo his own markings.
"It's... beautiful." He muttered, voice rough with unexpected emotion as he slipped it onto his forearm where it fits snugly, hugging the curve of muscle and inked skin like it was made for him.
A symbol of him taken, bound to you in the eyes of the clan.
You beam at him as joy lightened your face and before he can settle, you move straddling his lap with a fluid grace, the heat of his body seeping through the thin barriers of cloth.
A surprised grunt escapes him, his tattooed hands instinctively settling on your hips, fingers splaying wide to steady you, the grip firm against the softer give of your flesh.
Leaning in, you capture his mouth with yours, tentative at first. Your tongue parting his lips clumsily, exploring without the map of experience, driven only by instinct and the rightness of it all. He responds in kind but deeper and hungrier, his kiss consuming you like a tide pulling under, tongue stroking yours in slow deliberate sweeps that draw a whimper from your throat. Emboldened, you guide one of his hands upward, pressing his palm over the soft mound of your breast, the beaded top yielding under the pressure.
He squeezes unable to resist, the flesh molding to his touch and you moan into the kiss, the sensation sharp and electric, unlike anything you've known. His fingers delve further, slipping beneath the strands to find your nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger with a teasing pinch that sends sparks racing down your spine. You mewl against his lips, the sound muffled but needy, the foreign pleasure coiling tight in your core.
Good, so achingly good as his mouth claims yours again deeper.
Your hips move on their own, grinding forward in a slow roll against the growing hardness beneath you, the massive bulge straining his loincloth. He bucks up to meet you, a low growl vibrating in his chest, the friction building a slick ache between your thighs.
"'Nungie." You mewl breaking the kiss just enough to breathe his name, your usually soft voice husky with want.
He freezes beneath you, body going rigid, and then his hands clamp on your hips, stilling your movements with unyielding strength. He pulls back from the kiss, breath coming in harsh pants, eyes dark and conflicted as they search yours.
"We should stop, yawntu." He says with a strained voice like it's costing him everything to form the words.
You frown in confusion, chest heaving as the heat lingers unanswered.
"But we're mates." You protest softly, a plea edging your tone as your hips shifted again in a desperate grind seeking that lost rhythm. "I want to be close... like this. That’s what mates do, right?"
A deep and tortured groan rips from him, his forehead dropping to rest against your shoulder, his hot breath fanning your skin as his body trembles under the restraint.
The confusion swirls in you, thick and stinging.
Is he not drawn to you this way? Your lack of skill, the women he's known who move with practiced ease, their bodies honed for pleasure, do they eclipse you? Does he find your untouched form lacking, unworthy of the warrior he is?
You bite your lip hard, the doubt twisting like a knife as he lifts you off him with careful hands, setting you aside on the mat as if you're fragile glass. Your heart aches at the distance, the blatant pullback leaving a raw sting in its wake, the rejection blooming cold in your chest.
"We should sleep." He mutters, voice flat now, heavy with fatigue he didn't show moments ago. "I'm tired from the hunt."
"Oh." You whisper, the single word hollow, echoing the sudden emptiness as you watch him stretch out on the sleeping hides with his back to you, the armband a stark band against his skin.
You follow quietly curling onto your side without reaching for him, the usual urge to nestle close withered under the weight of hurt.
He doesn't turn, doesn't seek your warmth, his breathing evens into sleep's rhythm, his broad shoulders rising and falling leaving you staring at the expanse of his back, the tattoos a blurred pattern in the dimness.
Doubts flood in relentless waves. Your inexperience a barrier, your body not enough to hold him, the bond you feel so surely perhaps one-sided in its fire. You bite your lip again tasting the faint metallic tang and curl tighter into yourself, willing sleep to come.
Tomorrow, you hope the morning light will mend this fracture, chase away the shadows clinging to your thoughts so cruelly.
Hours later, the first rays of dawn filter through the woven walls of the marui, casting soft patterns on the sleeping hides where you stir awake, your body heavy with the remnants of uneasy dreams.
You reach out instinctively, fingers seeking the familiar warmth of Ao'nung's side but your hand meets only cool empty space. A frown tugs at your lips as the events of last night crash back. The tentative touches, the heat building between you only for him to pull away, his voice clipped and distant. And now, he's gone before you even open your eyes, slipped out like a shadow before the light could catch him. The sting lingers sharp in your chest but you push it down shaking your head slightly.
No, you won't let doubt fester. He's your mate, bound to you in ways that transcend fleeting moments. There must be a reason, maybe hunting duties or perhaps early chores. You repeat it to yourself like a mantra as you rise, smoothing the hides and stepping out into the morning air, the scent of dew-kissed fronds mingling with the ever-present salt of the sea.
Your steps carry you toward the cluster of maruis where Tsireya's family resides, her presence a beacon you crave, always knowing the right words to untangle the knots in your mind.
The path winds past the communal fires, still smoldering from last night's embers and your gaze drifts idly toward the distant stretch of beach where the waves lap gently at the shore. There, two figures stand close, their forms silhouetted against the rising sun. One broad and commanding, the other slim and poised.
Your breath catches as recognition hits.
Ao'nung, your mate and beside him, Saraye, the woman whose stare had burned into you days ago from across the sands.
She's the one the clan whispered about, the beauty who everyone believed could finally tether Ao'nung's wandering spirit. Unlike the others he'd discarded after a single night, she'd been seen with him more than once—twice, three times, her laughter echoing in his wake, her touch lingering on his arm during feasts.
A cold knot twists low in your stomach as you watch her tilt her head, her long braids swaying with the motion, her skin a smooth canvas of teal that catches the light just so.
She's pretty in a way that commands attention, her body honed by years of knowing exactly how to move, how to draw eyes and hands alike. She knows his body in ways you don't. Maps of pleasure you've only begun to imagine, experiences that make your own innocence feel like a barrier rather than a gift.
The rejection from last night floods back sharper now, your advances met with his sudden withdrawal, his hands lifting you away as if your touch burned. Maybe that's it, he isn't drawn to you like that, not with the fire he must have shared with her. Perhaps he's trapped in this bond with you by circumstance, his heart pulling toward Saraye, the one who fits his old life seamlessly.
You see it in the way he laughs now, an easy sound carrying on the breeze, his head thrown back slightly as she gestures animatedly, their familiarity a knife's edge against your resolve. They stand close, shoulders nearly brushing, her hand hovering on his forearm, the very arm now adorned with the band you wove for him as he converse with another woman.
Your heart fractures under the weight, the pieces scattering like shells on the tide. The cold shoulder of his rejection, waking to an empty cot, and now this, him seeking her company while you ache alone. Hot and unwelcome tears prick at your eyes as you tear your gaze away, hurrying along the path before the sight can carve deeper.
Tsireya's marui comes into view soon enough, its entrance draped with fresh kelp weaves and you call out softly, your voice trembling just at the edges.
She emerges quickly, her face lighting with a warm smile that fades the moment she takes in your expression. The downturned mouth, the shadowed eyes, the way your shoulders hunch inward.
"What's wrong?" She asks stepping close, her hand reaching for yours with that instinctive gentleness. "You look like you've seen a storm. Did you give my brother the armband?"
You nod, whispering the words as if they might shatter if spoken louder. "Yes, I gave it to him."
Her brows knit in confusion, head tilting as she searches your face. "Did he not like it?"
"He liked it." You reply, voice barely above a breath, the confirmation twisting the knot tighter.
"Then why the sadness?" Tsireya presses gently, guiding you to sit on a nearby log, her body angling toward yours protectively, the morning light gilding the fine tattoos on her face from her Ikinimaya.
A sniffle escapes you and you lean into her side, the solid warmth of her shoulder a small anchor as the words tumble out in a rush, it was laced with the raw edge of hurt.
"Last night... I tried to be close to him, Reya. I sat on his lap, kissed him, touched him like mates do, and for a moment it felt right. He was responding but then he just... stopped. Froze and pulled away, said we should sleep because he was tired from the hunt."
Your voice cracks on the last word, fingers twisting in your lap.
"And this morning he was gone before I woke, no note, no warmth left behind. I thought maybe it was nothing but then I saw him on the beach with Saraye. They're laughing so easy together like they share secrets I don't know. She's the one who was with him more than once, the only one who could tame him, everyone said that before. She's experienced, knows how to please him in ways I don't. I offered myself, my first time, and he rejected it. What if he doesn't want me like that? What if he's cheating or worse trapped with me when he wants her, wants his old life of many women instead of this bond? I feel so... unworthy, Reya. Like my body isn't enough, my innocence a curse instead of something to be cherished."
Tears spill now, tracking warm paths down your cheeks and Tsireya pulls you into a full embrace, her arms wrapping tight around your trembling form, one hand stroking your back in slow soothing circles.
"Oh, syulang." She murmurs against your hair, voice thick with empathy, her own eyes glistening as she holds you close. "You're not unworthy, not even close. My brother... he's an idiot sometimes but that doesn't mean your feelings aren't valid. He shouldn't have left you doubting like this. You're beautiful inside and out, any man would be lucky to have you. Ao'nung's just... complicated with his past and all. Give it time, he'll come around. And Saraye? She's just a shadow from before. You're the light he needs right now."
She doesn't spill the truths she guards of the amnesia and the false bond but her words weave comfort without deceit, her tone fierce with protectiveness. Internally, anger simmers in her usually cheery demeanor. She'll corner him later, give him the earful he deserves for hurting you this way despite her warnings. She thought he was changing, softening under your genuine affection, but this? It stings her too. And Eywa, she hopes your memories return soon, to shield you from this pain.
You pull back slightly, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, managing a watery smile at her.
"Stay with us tonight in our family marui. You need space from him, a night to breathe without the weight. My parents would not mind, you're like another daughter."
Gratitude swells in your chest, warm amidst the ache, and you nod squeezing her hand. "Thank you, Reya. You're more than a friend, you're my sister."
The day unfolds in her company, a deliberate distraction by weaving new nets by the lagoon, her laughter pulling reluctant smiles from you as she splashes water your way. Sharing midday fruits under the shade of a sprawling mangrove, her stories of childhood antics lightening the shadows in your mind. Even a quiet swim, her hand in yours as you glide through the clear shallows, the cool water easing the tension from your limbs.
She doesn't pry further, just fills the hours with easy companionship, her presence a balm that soothes without erasing the hurt.
As night falls, the family marui envelops you in its familiar hush, the sounds of the ocean a lullaby through the walls. You settle onto a spare mat near Tsireya, the hides soft beneath you but sleep evades at first. She told Ronal you were just here for a girly sleepover to avoid letting them know of the troubles with Ao’nung but there was a knowing glint in her eye even if she nodded.
Your thoughts circle back to Ao'nung, of his strong jaw, the way his tattoos shift with his breaths, the brief fire in his kiss before it all crumbled.
Why must he wound you like this, with silences and distances that cut deeper than words?
But you're not one to cling selfishly.
If space is what he craves, if his heart pulls elsewhere, you'll grant it even as it splinters yours further. Tomorrow you'll step back, let him roam without your shadow, the bond in your mind a fragile thread you won't force anymore.
The decision settles heavy in your chest, a quiet resolve mingled with sorrow and finally exhaustion claims you, pulling you into a restless slumber with a heart weighed down by unspoken fears.
Hours later, the sun climbs higher the next morning, its light spilling across the village paths like spilled honey but you linger in the family marui folding a spare wrap with deliberate slowness, your fingers tracing the woven fibers as if they hold answers. Returning to the shared space with Ao'nung feels like stepping into a trap, the air there thick with unspoken regrets so you avoid it entirely.
"Come gather with us, it’s our schedule." Tsireya says linking her arm through yours, her touch light but reassuring, the faint scent of sea blooms clinging to her skin from an early rinse.
You nod, grateful for the distraction though a quiet hope flickers that Ao'nung won't be leading the group, his presence would only sharpen the edges of your hurt.
The shore buzzes with quiet energy as you arrive, ilus shifting restlessly in the shallows, their sleek forms cutting through the lapping waves. Your eyes scan the assembly briefly, heart sinking when you spot him.
Ao'nung stands tall among the gatherers, his broad shoulders squared under the weight of command, the armband you crafted glinting on his bicep like a mocking token. And there, pressed too close to his space is Saraye as if it’s her righful place and maybe it is, since Ao’nung was letting her be there.
You force your gaze away fixing it on the horizon where the sea meets the sky in a hazy line, pretending the space he occupies is empty air. No glance and no acknowledgment, the rejection still burns too fresh, a bruise you won't prod.
Tsireya senses the shift in you immediately, her fingers intertwining with yours in a subtle squeeze, her thumb stroking the back of your hand as she shoots a sharp glare across the group toward her brother. It's a silent warning, her teal eyes narrowing, lips pressing into a thin line that speaks volumes of her frustration.
You feel Ao'nung's stare then, heavy and probing like a current tugging at your edges but you keep your face turned, climbing onto your ilu with steady grace, the creature's warm hide flexing under your thighs as you settle into it.
The group surges into the water, ilus plunging forward in a synchronized rhythm, foam cresting around their flanks as you ride toward the reef. The salt spray mists your skin, cooling the flush of unease rising in your chest and you urge your mount faster hoping the task ends swiftly so you can retreat to the shadows of avoidance, away from prying eyes and tangled bonds. The rocks loom ahead soon enough, jagged outcrops alive with clinging anemones and darting fish, the water deepening to a vibrant turquoise.
You guide your ilu close, fingers dipping into the currents to pluck iridescent shells, the cool flow soothing your palms but then a presence draws near, the subtle displacement of water signaling another rider as your pulse quickens.
Please let it be Tsireya.
Her familiar chatter a shield against the world but instead, a voice slithers through the air, low and laced with a sultry edge that sets your teeth on edge.
"Do you still have that selective amnesia?" Saraye's words hang there, her ilu gliding parallel to yours, her body leaning slightly forward.
Confusion knots your forehead and you turn to her, the question spilling out sharp and bewildered. "What?"
She smiles coyly, her full lips curving as her sharp and assessing eyes lock onto yours. "You hit your head a week ago. Woke up with selective amnesia thinking Ao'nung is your mate."
Her tone is casual and knowing, almost conversational as if discussing the weather or the tide's pull but it lands like a spear to your gut.
Your mind reels, the world tilting as fragments of her words clash against the fragile reality you've built.
"What are you talking about?" You manage, voice thin over the rush of water, your grip tightening on the ilu's reins until your knuckles pale.
Saraye shrugs lightly, her shoulders rolling with effortless poise, guiding her mount closer for a moment before easing back.
"Ao'nung told me. I was wondering why he's spending so much time with you so suddenly. He mentioned it yesterday, how he's being forced by their mother to be there for you because of your selective amnesia."
She delivers it without malice, just fact, her gaze flicking toward the group ahead where Ao'nung leads, his form cutting through the waves like he owns them.
Your breath hitches, ragged and caught as the currents around you stir growing choppier, the sea mirroring the storm brewing inside.
Forced.
The word echoes, unraveling everything. The kisses, the touches, the armband that now feels like chains.
"I hope you get your memories back." She adds patting your arm with a smile that's almost sympathetic, her fingers cool against your heated skin. "So Ao'nung can go back to his life."
With that, she steers her ilu away, veering smoothly back toward him, her laughter trailing like a taunt as she rejoins his side.
Tears sting your vision blurring the reef into a watercolor haze, hot tracks threatening to spill as the truth crashes over you.
So that's why he rejected you. It was pity, obligation, nothing more. He doesn't like you, not in the way your amnesia-woven dreams painted. You're not mates, it was all an illusion. A cruel trick of the mind, the tsaheylu you'd imagined nothing but vapor of fake memories.
The waves swell rougher now, unforgiving, mirroring your inner turmoil and in a blink disaster strikes again. Your ilu bucks against a sudden surge throwing you forward, your head slamming against the unyielding rock with a crack that echoes in your skull.
"(Y/N), hold on!" Tsireya's voice pierces the chaos, frantic and distant but the world fades to black, pain blooming sharp and consuming before swallowing you whole.
When consciousness returns to you hours later, it's in fragments. A dull throb pulsing at your temples, vision swimming in blurry edges, your mind a whirlpool of lost pieces slotting back into place.
Memories flood out of nowhere, the accident that started it all, the disdain you'd once felt for Ao'nung's careless ways, the rejections of suitors you'd turned away with quiet resolve, Tsireya's unwavering loyalty through orphaned years. And him, not your mate but a reluctant guardian, his kindness a mask for duty.
"(Y/N), you're awake!" Tsireya's voice breaks through laced with relief, her face hovering close, eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears, her hands gentle on your shoulders.
Your vision clears gradually, sharpening on the familiar confines of Ronal's healing marui. The low ceiling woven with healing herbs that release a faint earthy aroma, the soft glow of bioluminescent pods casting blue shadows.
Ronal stands nearby, her presence steady and authoritative, her arms crossed as she watches you with measured concern. Tsireya is at your side but no Ao'nung. His absence makes a bitter kind of sense now as the illusion shattered, though a faint sting lingers in your chest. You'd grown accustomed to his solid warmth, the way his gaze had softened in those fabricated moments, fond of the role you'd played as his.
You blink the lingering ache away, pushing down the hollow echo of those false affections as Ronal approaches, her steps measured, the beads in her hair clicking softly.
"How are you feeling?" She asks, voice calm but probing, settling on the edge of the mat, her cool hand pressing lightly to your forehead. "You've been unconscious the whole day. It's night now."
Silence stretches for a beat, your thoughts settling like sediment after a storm before the words emerge, steady despite the tremor in your core. "I remember everything now."
They share a look, a fleeting exchange heavy with unspoken relief and apology as Ronal's eyes softened and Tsireya's widening further.
"You do?" Tsireya whispers leaning in, her fingers squeezing yours.
"Yes." You confirm, the truth settling like a weight lifted and replaced by another.
Ronal nods slowly, her grip on your hand firm yet tender, calluses from years of healing rough against your skin.
"We are sorry for lying to you when you didn't remember." She says, her tone laced with genuine regret, eyes holding yours with the weight of her role as Tsahik. "But your recovery was fragile, it was matters of the brain that demanded caution and Eywa guided us to protect what was mending."
You nod, the understanding coming easy, gratitude threading through the sorrow. They had shielded you, woven a temporary truth to cradle your healing mind. Yet the ache persists, a quiet throb for the emotions you'd nurtured in that haze. The pull toward Ao'nung, the vulnerability you'd offered freely now exposed as fleeting shadows.
"It's okay, Tsahik." You reply softly, managing a small weary smile. "I understand."
Tsireya shuffles closer then, her body curling protectively around you in a hug, her cheek pressing to your shoulder, warm and trembling slightly with her own relief. You meet her gaze as she pulls back, the bond between you unbreakable, forged in shared secrets and losses.
"Can you get my things from Ao'nung's marui?" You ask, voice even, though the request carries the finality of severance. "I'll move back to my own now that I remember the truth."
She bites her lip as a flicker of hesitation crossed her features, guilt perhaps for the part she played before nodding softly, her hand lingering on yours. "Of course. I'll bring them right away."
Ronal rises, her expression resolute as she places a hand on your shoulder.
"Come see me every day so I can check on your wound." She instructs, the command softened by care.
Leaning down, she presses a kiss to your forehead, her lips dry and warm, a blessing in the gesture. She watches as you and her daughter rise unsteadily supporting each other toward the entrance, the night air cool and starlit beyond the flaps.
"I hope Eywa grants you healing, child." Ronal calls after you, her voice a quiet anchor in the darkness.
Tsireya's arm wraps around your waist as she guides you through the village paths, her grip firm yet tender, the warmth of her body seeping through the thin fabric of your wrap against your side. The night air carries the distant hum of waves crashing against the reef, mingling with the soft rustle of leaves overhead but neither of you speaks, the silence heavy with the weight of the day's unraveling.
Her steps are measured syncing with yours though you can feel the tension coiled in her frame, the subtle clench of her jaw, the way her free hand fists at her side. Guilt gnaws at her, evident in the downward tilt of her gaze, shadowed by the bioluminescent glow of nearby maruis and beneath it simmers a fury directed at her brother, her breaths coming a touch sharper than usual.
You both slip into your marui, the familiar space feeling both sanctuary and echo chamber, the woven walls curving protectively around the simple cot piled with soft hides. Dust motes dance in the faint light filtering through the entrance flap and the scent of dried sea grass lingers, a reminder of quieter days before the illusions took hold.
Tsireya leads you to the cot, her hand lingering on your elbow as you lower yourself onto the edge, the hides yielding under your weight with a faint creak, your body heavy with exhaustion, muscles aching from the twin blows of injury and revelation.
"I'll sleep with you for the night." She murmurs, her voice soft but resolute, eyes meeting yours with a depth of protectiveness that eases the knot in your chest just a fraction.
You nod, gratitude swelling warm and wordless. The thought of solitude tonight, a vast echoing void, too much to bear. Your limbs feel leaden, the throb in your head a dull pulse syncing with the hurt radiating from your core, memories now sharp and unrelenting crashing against the fragile peace you'd clung to.
"Thank you, Reya." You whisper, your voice cracking faintly at the edges.
She nods settling beside you, her form curling close as she draws you into a sisterly embrace, arms encircling your shoulders, her cheek pressing against your temple. The steady rise and fall of her chest against yours grounds you, her skin smooth and sun-kissed carrying the faint salt tang of the sea.
You grow quiet in her hold, the silence stretching until words bubble up unbidden, raw and vulnerable.
"I grew feelings for him, Tsireya." You confess, the admission hanging in the dim air, your fingers twisting into the edge of a hide. "Even if it was built on a lie at first."
"Oh, (Y/N)." She breathes, her voice thick with empathy, pulling back just enough to cup your face in her palms, thumbs brushing away the dampness gathering at the corners of your eyes.
Her touch is gentle yet it conveys the depth of her sorrow for your pain.
"It's okay." You continue, forcing a steadiness into your tone even as your throat tightens, the illusion's warmth now a cold void. "I know he doesn't see me that way. I've robbed him of his freedom, his life, because of the amnesia I had."
The words taste bitter, self-recrimination lacing each one, your hips shifting uncomfortably on the cot as you draw your knees up, the curve of your form folding inward protectively.
She holds you closer, her embrace tightening, body heat enveloping you like a shield, though you sense her own turmoil. The way her breath hitches, her mind racing. She'd harbored quiet hopes that this twisted path might weave you and Ao'nung together.
You, with your steadfast rejections of every suitor, waiting for Eywa's true sign. Him, the restless future Olo'eyktan, chained by his wandering appetites, unable to root himself. But now, the threads snap, her optimism crumbling like dry kelp, leaving only frustration and a fierce protectiveness for you.
"Before I hit my head." You add, voice dropping lower, the memory fresh and stinging like salt in a wound. "Saraye talked to me. She said Ao'nung told her he's just being forced to pretend, that she hopes I get my memory back so he can be free."
Your words tumble out, laced with the disorientation of that moment, the sea's roar drowning your thoughts.
"My vision blurred and I was so overwhelmed I didn't register the waves until it was too late. Until I hit my head. I guess in a way, they both were the reason for me getting my memory back."
A hollow laugh escapes you, empty and brittle, echoing off the marui walls, your supple chest rising and falling unevenly with the force of it.
Tsireya's fury ignites anew at the revelation, her body stiffening against yours, eyes flashing with outrage. Saraye's careless barbs rendering you vulnerable, a catalyst for yet another injury, her brother's indiscretions the spark. She bites back a retort, jaw working silently choosing instead to hold you tighter, her fingers threading through your hair in soothing strokes until exhaustion claims you both, sleep pulling you under in tangled limbs, the night's quiet broken only by the distant call of nocturnal creatures.
The next morning, sunlight filters through the cracks in the marui weave, painting golden streaks across the floor and Tsireya stirs first, her movements careful not to disturb you.
She shakes your shoulder softly, her touch light as a breeze, voice a gentle murmur. "I'll leave now to get your things."
You nod sleepily, eyes heavy-lidded, the remnants of dreams of fleeting images of shared warmth now soured clinging like mist.
She rises fluidly, her form silhouetted against the entrance, curls swaying as she pauses to press a quick sisterly kiss to your forehead before slipping out, the flap falling closed with a soft whisper.
It's time I talk to my brother.
She thinks, resolve hardening her steps as she weaves through the village toward Ao'nung's marui, the morning bustle a blur around her. Fury simmers in her veins, a protective fire for you, mingled with the sting of dashed hopes. She pushes aside the entrance flap without ceremony, finding him seated on the low bench, his broad frame hunched slightly, tattooed arms resting on his knees, gaze fixed blankly on the woven floor.
The space feels emptier already, the absence of your presence a subtle shift in the air, his handsome features etched with something unreadable, regret perhaps or the weight of solitude returning.
"I'm getting (Y/N)'s things." She announces with a clipped voice, teal eyes locking onto his with unyielding accusation as she moves to the corner where your sparse belongings wait.
Ao'nung looks up slowly, his jaw tightening, the muscles in his neck cording briefly under the teal sheen of his skin.
"Why?" He asks calmly though his tone carries an undercurrent of defensiveness, rising to his full height, the armband you'd woven still circling his bicep, its beads catching the light like reluctant stars.
"She remembers everything now, Ao'nung." Tsireya retorts, her hands swift as she gathers your wraps and trinkets, folding them with precise angry motions, the fabric rustling sharply. "You can be free to do whatever you want now. Be with Saraye and all those women."
The words bite, laced with sarcasm, her glare piercing as she straightens, bundle clutched to her chest.
He scoffs, a low, rough sound rumbling from his throat, stepping closer to watch her dismantle the traces of you from his space, his eyes narrowing. "What do you mean Saraye?"
"(Y/N) saw you the other day all close with her." Tsireya shoots back, her voice rising with frustration, cheeks flushing with the heat of her anger.
"And?" He presses arms crossing over his chest, the play of muscles under his skin a testament to his warrior build, though his stance holds a flicker of unease.
Tsireya glares undeterred, her body tensing as she continues packing, fingers trembling slightly with restrained fury.
"I know we've forced you to play a part but you didn't have to hurt her like this. She came to me that day almost in tears, telling me how you rejected her the night before, how she woke up the next morning to you gone, only to find you with another woman. A woman you've been so intimate with countless times." Her words hang heavy, charged with the pain she'd witnessed in your eyes, the vulnerability you'd bared to her alone.
Ao'nung's jaw clenches visibly, a shadow crossing his sharp features, his breath escaping in a controlled hiss.
"She misunderstood." He mutters, voice low and edged with irritation, though doubt flickers in his gaze, the realization of the chasm he'd widened settling like lead.
Tsireya rolls her eyes, the gesture sharp and dismissive, slinging your gathered items over one shoulder.
"It doesn't matter anyway. You've already hurt her. Also, you're free now, you don't have to play the part anymore." She turns toward the entrance but pauses, voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Thank Saraye for (Y/N) getting her memory back. If she hadn't told (Y/N) yesterday how you're being forced because of the selective amnesia, (Y/N) would still be believing she's mated to you. In a way, that bitch of yours made (Y/N) hit her head, literally and figuratively."
Ao'nung stiffens at her words, his form going rigid as fury bloomed across his face, eyes darkening and fists balling at his sides as the true catalyst of your accident yesterday slams into him.
Saraye's meddling, his own careless confidence spilling secrets, the rough waves claiming you in your distress, it all converges a storm he hadn't anticipated, his pulse thundering in his ears.
Tsireya pauses at the entrance, your things balanced in her arms, her expression softening just a fraction with sorrow.
"She really did like you, Ao'nung." She says quietly, the words a final arrow. "And I thought you did too."
With that she slips out leaving him in the hollowed quiet of the marui, the space echoing with absence.
The cot where you'd slept undisturbed, the faint imprint of your scent on the air, the way sunlight now slants across empty corners without your form to soften it. His eyes drift to the armband on his bicep, fingers tracing its weave absently, the beads warm from his skin.
He'd grown used to you, to the rhythm of your shy smiles lighting the dim interiors, the press of your body against his in stolen moments, the idea of being yours, of being binded solely to one woman. The freedom you’d handed back feels less like release and more like a void, his chest tightening with the unfamiliar ache of what might have been.
That night, when your body pressed against his in the dim confines of the marui, your hips grinding instinctively in the haze, Ao'nung's resolve had cracked but held just barely.
He pulled away not out of disinterest but a respect for the innocence you held sacred, the purity you guarded like a hidden cove, untouched by the casual waves of fleeting encounters. He knew the bond you believed in wasn't real, woven from the fragile threads of amnesia and he wouldn't be the one to shatter it with his touch, to claim what wasn't truly offered in clarity.
Your wide hips had curved invitingly against him, the soft swell of your breasts brushing his chest through the thin barrier of hides but he turned from it all, forcing his body to face the woven wall, the cool night air doing little to quell the heat pooling low in his gut.
His cock throbbed insistently, hardened to an ache from the friction of your warmth rubbing against it, the slick promise of your untouched folds teasing through the fabric. If he'd pulled you close, wrapped his arms around your supple form and buried his face in the crook of your neck, he wouldn't have stopped.
He imagined it then in the dark.
His mouth descending to feast on your virgin pussy, tongue delving into the sweet uncharted heat, lapping at your folds until you arched and whimpered beneath him. He pictured plunging deep inside your tight hole, the velvet grip yielding to him inch by inch, breeding you with a primal urgency, marking you as his in the most irrevocable way.
The thought clawed at him but he denied it, breaths ragged and controlled until sleep finally claimed him in fitful fragments that night.
In the morning light, filtering soft through the entrance flap, Ao'nung stirred before you, his gaze lingering on your sleeping form. Your face, framed by loose strands of hair, held a serene beauty of full lips parted slightly, lashes casting faint shadows on your cheeks, the gentle rise of your chest a rhythm he'd come to anticipate.
"So beautiful." He murmured, voice a low rumble and thick with unspoken apology, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips, lingering just long enough to taste the warmth of your breath. "I'm sorry, yawntu."
The endearment slipped out heavy with the weight of what he withheld before he rose quietly, his broad shoulders rolling as he slipped out toward the beach, the sand still cool underfoot.
He needed to do something—anything—to bridge the gap he'd enforced so he crouched by the tide pools, fingers sifting through the damp grains for shells that caught the dawn's glow. Iridescent spirals, smooth pebbles veined with color, each one selected with care for the necklace he'd craft as an apology, a token to adorn the column of your throat.
The water lapped gently at the shore when Saraye emerged from the shallows, her form cutting through the waves, water sluicing off her teal skin in rivulets that traced the curves of her hips and the swell of her breasts. She approached with a sway, braids dripping, a knowing smile curving her lips.
"Ao'nung, I haven't seen you in a while." She said, voice lilting with feigned casualness, eyes flicking over his tattooed arms as she drew near.
He shrugged not pausing in his search, the muscles in his back flexing under the morning sun.
"Been busy." He replied evenly, tone neutral, his focus on a cluster of tiny pearlescent shells half-buried in the sand.
Saraye's smile deepened, stepping closer until her shadow fell across his hands, her scent wafting toward him.
"With (Y/N)? I thought you didn't settle down." She teased, a glint of challenge in her gaze, her fingers trailing idly along the edge of her loincloth.
Ao'nung straightened slightly, wiping sand from his palms, seeing no harm in the truth, it wasn't a secret to unravel.
"She has selective amnesia." He explained, voice steady, meeting her eyes without warmth. "She believes we're mates. My parents asked me to take care of her until she recovers her memory."
Her eyes glinted sharper, a flicker of opportunity crossing her features as she tilted her head, lips pursing in mock sympathy. "So you're being forced? I feel sorry that you're stuck with taking care of her when you can spend your time with me."
The words dripped with invitation, her body angling toward him, one hand resting on her hip to accentuate the dip of her waist.
He laughed then, a short bark of sound escaping his chest, genuine amusement bubbling up at her presumption, the sheer audacity of assuming his chains were so easily chafed. It wasn't interest fueling the chuckle but the irony of her misread, the way she painted his days with you as a burden when they'd become something he guarded.
That was the moment you glimpsed him from afar, the sound carrying on the breeze, twisting in your mind into flirtation, a dismissal of the fragile world you'd built.
"She's not a duty to me." Ao'nung said firmly, shaking his head as the laughter faded, his expression hardening with sincerity. "I would have left already if I didn't like taking care of her. No one can force me to do anything I don't want, Saraye."
His words cut clean, leaving no room for her advances and he turned back to the shore dismissing her with the set of his shoulders as he resumed his hunt for more shells, each find a step toward mending what he sensed fraying.
The day stretched on without your return to the marui, the empty space gnawing at him as the sun climbed high then dipped toward the horizon. Worry coiled in his gut, a tight knot that had him pacing the woven floor, his bare feet silent on the hides. He ventured out as dusk painted the sky in bruised purples, scanning the paths until he spotted you near the edge of the village, your laughter ringing soft and clear as you leaned into Tsireya's side, her arm slung companionably around your shoulders.
The sight eased something in him, your face animated, the tension in your posture loosening in her company, and his heart softened, a quiet understanding blooming at how you must have missed her steady presence.
He wouldn't intrude, wouldn't crowd the space you clearly needed. Instead he retreated to the marui, the bundle of shells clutched in his fist.
Night fell but sleep evaded him, his mind replaying the curve of your smile, the way you'd murmur “Nungie” in those unguarded moments, your voice a balm he craved.
He sat by the low table, fingers fumbling with the materials. Rough cord from dried vines, the shells he'd polished smooth against a stone. Weaving wasn't his skill, his hands moved clumsily, the strands twisting unevenly, beads slipping before catching. But he persisted, the necklace taking shape as a simple adornment, its asymmetry a claim mirroring the armband you'd given him.
Yours on his skin, this for your neck, a silent vow to the bond he hadn't dared voice.
Daylight crept in again, the marui warming with the sun's rise and Ao'nung finally set the finished piece aside, its weight light but meaningful in his palm. He headed to the beach for the gathering, his role as leader pulling him to the water's edge where ilus bobbed in the shallows, their sleek forms glistening.
He knew your schedule intertwined with Tsireya's today, gathering kelp and pearls from the outer reefs and he waited, eyes scanning the horizon, the necklace tucked into a pouch at his hip.
Saraye steered her ilu closer, her mount brushing his with deliberate proximity but he paid her no mind, gaze fixed on the approaching figures, jaw set in quiet focus.
You appeared then, mounted gracefully on your ilu, the wind tugging at your braids but your eyes slid past him without pause, the avoidance a sharp twist in his chest, your posture rigid as you guided your creature to join Tsireya's side.
He swallowed the pang, figuring the distance was necessary, that he'd speak to you later in private. Away from the eyes of the clan, no pressure to you in the open where whispers could wound. The group set out, ilus slicing through the waves in formation, the sea's rhythm steady under him as he directed the paths, his commands barked low and efficient.
Silence wrapped around his thoughts until Tsireya's voice shattered it, a shout laced with panic of your name tearing from her throat.
He whipped around, heart slamming against his ribs, the world narrowing to the sight of you slumped forward on your ilu, blood trickling from a gash on your forehead, staining the teal of your skin in stark rivulets. Terror gripped him, cold and visceral, a echo of that first accident replaying in brutal clarity.
He urged his ilu forward in a surge, closing the distance in seconds reaching out to gather you from Tsireya's trembling arms, her face pale, tears streaking her cheeks as she passed you over.
Your body felt limp and fragile against him, the warmth of your form seeping into his chest even as the metallic tang of blood filled his nostrils, soaking into his skin where he cradled your head. It was déjà vu, the rush of waves blurring as he kicked his ilu toward shore, holding you secure, one arm banded around your waist, the other supporting your neck, your blood smearing across his torso in warm streaks.
"Eywa, please." He whispered fiercely to the wind, pulse thundering. "Let her be okay."
The village blurred past as he barreled toward his mother's marui, Tsireya's ilu splashing close behind, her sobs carrying over the surf. He burst through the entrance flap, the space dim and herbal-scented, laying you gently on the healing mat as autopilot took over. His ears ringing, vision tunneling to the pale cast of your features, the shallow rise of your chest.
You looked so vulnerable, lashes fluttering weakly against your cheeks, the curve of your lips slack, blood matting a strand of hair to your temple.
Ronal moved swiftly, her hands steady as she took you from his grasp, assessing the wound with practiced eyes. Tsireya tumbling in behind to explain in halting bursts of the rogue current, the hidden coral outcrop, your focus lost in the moment.
His chest and arms glistened with your blood, sticky and cooling, but his eyes never left you, fixed on the fragility of your form, the way your fingers twitched faintly at your side.
"Go clean yourself up, Ao'nung." Ronal commanded, her voice firm yet laced with concern, glancing at him briefly before turning back to you, her fingers already mixing a poultice.
He nodded numbly, rising on unsteady legs, the weight of hope and fear pressing down as he backed away whispering to himself. "She'll be okay. She has to be."
As the memory fades and Tsireya left, alone in the dim hush of his marui, Ao'nung paced the woven floor. His broad chest heaved with a sigh, muscles taut under his teal skin as he raked a hand through his braids, the beads clinking softly.
What he'd once craved of nights tangled with whoever caught his eye, the thrill of no strings, the freedom to chase the next wave has now twisted into something hollow, a shadow against the vivid pull you exerted on him.
"Fuck." He growled low, the word rough and edged with frustration, fists clenching at his sides as he sank onto the mat, staring at the armband you'd woven for him, its fibers a constant press against his bicep.
Tomorrow he'd corner you, lay bare the truths gnawing at him.
How your innocence had hooked him deeper than any fleeting liaison, how pulling away that night wasn't rejection but a desperate bid to honor the purity you valued even if the bond was born of fogged memory. He'd explain the laugh with Saraye, the shells he'd gathered just for you, the necklace burning a hole in his pouch. But doubt coiled in his gut, sharp as a spear tip.
Would she listen or had the recovered memories sealed me out for good?
Sleep came heavy and reluctant, his body curling into itself, dreams fractured with visions of your curves arching under him, the slick heat he'd denied himself leaving him waking with a insistent throb between his legs.
Dawn broke with a soft glow over the village, the reef's colors bleeding into the sky as Ao'nung slipped from his marui, the clumsily woven necklace clutched in his palm. The shells strung unevenly, a pearl at its center catching the light like a promise. He made his way to your dwelling, the path familiar now, his steps measured but urgent, heart pounding a steady rhythm against his ribs.
You emerged just as he approached, your form silhouetted against the entrance flap, the sway of your wide hips accentuated by the tight weave of your loincloth, the supple swell of your breasts rising with each breath under a beaded top that clung to your skin. Your face, that exquisite blend of soft features and wide guarded eyes, turned away before locking on him, lashes lowering in deliberate avoidance.
"(Y/N)." He called, voice low and laced with a plea stepping closer, the pouch at his hip swaying.
But you didn't pause, shoulders stiffening as you veered toward the communal path, bare feet padding silently over the packed earth, your long hair swaying like kelp in a current.
He thought of Saraye's bold assumptions, how you'd twisted his laughter into betrayal and it fueled him. You believed him reverted to old habits, tangled with her perhaps, chasing skirts while your heart mended elsewhere. The idea ignited a possessive fire in him, his gaze tracing the line of your spine, imagining pinning you against a palm, hands gripping those birthing hips as he ground against your ass, showing you exactly who consumed his thoughts.
He followed at a distance, shadowing your steps like a hunter tracking elusive prey, the thrill of the pursuit sending heat coiling low in his belly.
You headed to the weaving circle where women gathered under shaded fronds, their hands busy with fibers and dyes. dTsireya was there, her frame bent over a half-finished mat but she glanced up as you approached, her eyes flicking past you to Ao'nung lingering at the edge, his tattooed arms crossed and jaw set. You settled beside her, fingers deftly twisting cords but your movements were tense, the curve of your neck exposed as you leaned forward, oblivious or pretending, to his presence.
"Tsireya." You murmured, voice soft with forced lightness, though your cheeks flushed faintly. "Pass me the red fiber? I need to finish this band before the tide turns."
She obliged, shooting him a warning glare over your shoulder but he didn't retreat.
Instead crouching nearby pretending to inspect a nearby basket, his eyes devouring the way your thighs pressed together as you shifted, the faint sheen of sweat tracing a path down your collarbone into the valley between your breasts. Obsession bloomed sharper as images flashed of your legs parting for him, that virgin slit glistening, begging for his tongue to trace its folds, to taste the sweetness he'd only fantasized about while denying himself.
"(Y/N), wait." He said finally, voice rougher now, edged with the strain of restraint as he rose and closed the gap, ignoring Tsireya's sharp intake of breath.
You stiffened hands pausing mid-twist but kept your gaze on the weaving, the fiber snapping taut under your grip.
"I need to talk to you. About everything." His words hung heavy, charged with the undercurrent of desire he barely leashed, his body heat radiating as he knelt beside you, close enough that his knee brushed your outer thigh sending a jolt through him at the contact.
You exhaled sharply, a flicker of hurt crossing your features before you masked it, lips pressing into a thin line.
"There's nothing to say, Ao'nung." You replied coolly, though your voice wavered, betraying the storm beneath your shy reserve. "You've made your choices clear. I thank you for taking care of me but you can now go back to... whatever life you had before me."
The words stung laced with accusation, your wide and shimmering eyes finally meeting his for a heartbeat before darting away, the beauty of your face twisting his gut with regret and want.
He leaned in, breath warm against your ear, the scent of your skin stirring his cock to half-hardness beneath his loincloth. He really doesn’t know what’s wrong with him and why his body is like this with you now.
"It's not what you think." He murmured, low and insistent, fingers itching to trace the shell of your ear, to tilt your chin and claim your mouth until you melted against him. "Saraye means nothing. Let me explain yawntu, please."
The endearment slipped out raw with longing but you pulled back rising abruptly, the sway of your hips hypnotic as you excused yourself to Tsireya with a murmured apology, heading toward the shore path.
He trailed you again, the sun climbing higher, warming the sand underfoot as you reached the water's edge, bending to rinse your hands in the shallows, the waves lapping at your ankles.
Your loincloth rode up slightly, revealing the firm curve of your ass and he bit back a groan, vision blurring with the urge to drop to his knees behind you, hands spreading your cheeks to bury his face there, tongue delving into your untouched heat until you buckled moaning his name. Obsession clawed deeper within him, a thrilling ache that made his pulse race.
He couldn't let you slip away, not when every glance, every avoidance, only heightened the carnal hunger building like a storm.
The beach wasn't empty, a few hunters sparred nearby, their grunts echoing but he ignored them, matching your pace as you wandered along the tideline, picking at driftwood absently.
"(Y/N)." He tried again, voice dropping to a husky timbre, stepping into your path this time, his taller frame blocking the sun, casting a shadow over your form.
Water droplets clung to your skin tracing lazy paths down your arms and he followed one with his eyes, imagining licking it away, his mouth exploring the soft underside of your breast, teeth grazing the peak until it hardened under his assault.
You halted, chest rising faster, the beaded top shifting with the motion, outlining the pert tips beneath.
"Why are you doing this?" You demanded, frustration bleeding into your tone, eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something softer, a vulnerability that made his heart clench. "Following me like I'm some obligation? Just like before when I thought... when I was wrong about us. Leave me be, Ao'nung. Go find Saraye, she seemed to make you laugh."
The bitterness twisted the last words, your hands fisting at your sides as your knuckles paled.
He reached out, fingers grazing your wrist, light and tentative but electric, the contact sending sparks up his arm straight to his groin, where his length strained fully now, tenting the fabric obscenely.
"That laugh wasn't for her." He said fiercely, thumb stroking the pulse point there, feeling it flutter wildly. "She assumed I was trapped with you, like caring for you was a chore. I laughed because it's absurd, being near you is the only thing that feels right anymore. I pulled away that night because I respect you, (Y/N). Your innocence, what you hold sacred. I won't corrupt it with half-truths. I wouldn’t fuck you knowing your mind is under a haze even if I badly fucking want to."
His gaze dropped to your lips, full and parted on a shallow breath, imagining them wrapped around his cock, sliding down inch by inch, your shy eyes watering as you took him deep.
You yanked your hand free but didn't flee, the tension crackling between you like lightning over the reef, your body leaning imperceptibly closer despite yourself.
"Respect?" You echoed voice trembling, a flush creeping up your neck. "Or regret? Now that I remember, you're free again. Back to your ways."
The words were a challenge, laced with the pain of your shattered illusions but your eyes betrayed the lingering pull, the way they traced the hard planes of his chest, the V of his hips.
The thrill intensified, his obsession a living thing now urging him to close the distance, to press you against the nearest rock and rut against your core until you felt his undeniable raw need.
But he held back, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "No regrets. Only want. For you, all of you. Let me show you, not with words but... give me a chance."
He lifted the pouch, the necklace glinting as he drew it out, holding it toward you like an offering, the uneven weave a testament to his fumbling devotion.
You stared at it, conflict warring on your feature. The pretty bow of your mouth softening, eyes widening at the shells that mirrored the ones you'd admired together. But then Tsireya's call echoed from afar, pulling you back and you turned away once more, leaving him standing there, arousal throbbing unmet.
The chase far from over, each step you took only drawing him deeper into the intoxicating web of desire and denial.
You walked away from him on the sun-warmed sand, the waves whispering at your heels like secrets you weren't ready to hear, your heart a tangled knot of doubt and lingering ache. The necklace he'd offered glinted in your mind's eye, a fragile thing that tugged at the edges of your resolve but you pushed forward, your hips swaying with each determined steps.
Behind you, Ao'nung stood frozen for a heartbeat, the shell strand clutched in his fist, its edges biting into his palm as resolve hardened in his chest like coral forming over time.
No more holding back.
With your memories restored, the fragile veil of your amnesia was gone and so was the restraint he'd imposed on himself out of some misguided respect for the innocence you'd carried like a sacred flame. He never saw your purity as a barrier to shatter but a canvas to paint with his touch, to draw out moans and shudders until you craved him as fiercely as he burned for you. He'd use every whisper of pleasure and every slide of skin on skin to weave you into his world making the bond real, sealing it with the heat of your bodies joining.
His old ways called to him, that shameless pursuit of ecstasy but this time it was singular, laser-focused on you. On the curve of your spine, the plush give of your breasts, the untouched warmth between your legs that he'd claim inch by aching inch.
His parents' words echoed faintly, a nudge he'd ignored for too long.
Settle, mate, build a legacy.
Fine. He'd do it, but only with you.
Filling you until your belly swelled with the promise of their grandchild, your wide hips cradling the life you'd create together. But first, he had to break through that shy wall you hid behind, tease it down with lips and fingers until you begged. Gripping the necklace tighter, the pearl warm against his skin, he started after you again with his strides longer and more predatory, the throb in his loincloth a insistent drumbeat urging him on.
You veered toward the village center, where the midday bustle hummed.
The hunters sharpening spears under woven awnings, children darting between legs with laughter like splashing water, women carrying baskets of fresh catch from the reef. The air hummed with the scent of smoked fish and blooming vines but your focus narrowed to escape to the cool shade of the gathering pavilion where Tsireya might be waiting. Your bare feet sank into the soft path, each step sending a faint tremor up your legs, your breasts shifting gently with the motion, nipples pebbling against the beaded strands from the breeze off the sea and Ao’nung's advances earlier.
He caught up before you reached the pavilion's edge, his hand wrapping around your upper arm, not rough but firm and halting you mid-stride. The contact seared, his callused fingers pressing into the soft flesh and you felt the heat of him radiate through your skin, stirring an unwelcome flutter low in your belly.
"(Y/N)." He breathed, voice a low rumble that vibrated against your back as he pulled you slightly aside into the partial shelter of a broad-leafed plant, its fronds casting dappled shadows over your faces.
His body crowded yours, his chest nearly brushing your shoulder blades but the hard line of his arousal was evident against your hip when he shifted closer unashamed.
It was a whole 360 from the restraint he had when you were under the selective memory loss and was humping him like you were in heat. Still, you twisted in his grip, cheeks heating as you met his gaze. Those intense teal eyes darkened with hunger, his pupils blown wide like the deep sea at night.
"Let go." You whispered, voice trembling with the effort to sound firm though your body betrayed you, leaning just a fraction into his warmth.
Innocence cloaked you still. You knew the basics of mating from hushed talks with Tsireya, the sacred joining under Eywa's gaze but the raw mechanics of the stretch, the slick slide, the overwhelming fullness remained a hazy mystery, one that made your pulse skitter when his thumb traced a slow circle on your arm.
Ao'nung didn't release you.
Instead he stepped nearer, his free hand rising to cup your jaw, tilting your face up so your lips hovered perilously close to his. His breath fanned hot over your mouth, carrying the faint tang of salt and desire.
"I can't." He admitted, the words rough and laced with a yearning that twisted his features, brows furrowing as if the confession pained him. "Not anymore. You think I'm chasing Saraye? That laugh was at her foolishness, nothing more. She's a shadow, (Y/N). You... you're the one pulling me under."
His thumb brushed your lower lip parting it slightly and you felt the damp heat building between your thighs, unfamiliar and insistent, making you clench instinctively.
Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering as you fought the pull, the way his touch ignited sparks along your nerves.
"Prove it." You challenged softly though your voice cracked, body arching subtly toward him despite your words. "Words are easy for you. You've said them to others."
The accusation hung between you, your free hand pressing against his chest as you feel the rapid thud of his heart beneath the firm muscle, his tattoos curling like waves over his pecs. He groaned low, the sound vibrating through his chest right into your palm, his grip on your jaw tightening just enough to hold you steady as he leaned in with his nose brushing yours.
"Easy? This is torture." He murmured, lips grazing the corner of your mouth in a tease that sent liquid fire pooling in your core. "Every night with or without you in my marui, I ache hard from the thoughts of burying deep inside you, feeling your walls clench around me for the first time. Your innocence drives me mad, yawntu. I want to ruin it, show you how good it can be, how you'd drip for me, beg for my cock to fill that sweet virgin pussy but I had to hold back because I do not want you to hate me once you got your memories back. I did not want you to think I’m taking advantage of your selective amnesia just to get my dick wet."
The words were filthy, explicit, yet honest as it painted pictures that made your knees weaken and your heart soften in understanding.
You shoved at him harder though your push lacked conviction, fingers splaying over the ridges of his abs, tracing the dips involuntarily.
"Stop." You gasped but it came out breathy, your hips shifting restlessly, the friction of your loincloth against your swelling clit a new torturous sensation.
He was obsessed, you could see it in the way his eyes raked over you as it devoured the swell of your tits straining the beads, the flare of your hips he wanted to grip while thrusting home. Blooming festering love simmered beneath the lust making his yearning palpable like a tide dragging you under its pull.
But you held firm, barely, the doubt about Saraye a anchor keeping you from melting. "Not like this. Not when I see you with her in my mind."
Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears and it only fueled his determination, his hand sliding down to your waist, thumb dipping just under the edge of your top to stroke the soft skin there. Ao'nung's jaw clenched, frustration and adoration warring in his expression as he pulled back slightly enough to scan the growing crowd nearby.
The villagers milling about the pavilion, conversations dipping as eyes turned toward your secluded spot. Tsireya lingered at the edge, her gaze sharp while Saraye hovered further back, arms crossed watching with narrowed eyes.
Perfect. If words weren't enough, action would be.
He straightened, keeping one hand possessively on your hip, the necklace still fisted in the other and raised his voice, letting it carry over the hum of the village like a hunter's call.
"(Y/N) is mine as I am hers." He declared, the words booming with finality, drawing gasps and murmurs from the gathered clan.
Heads turned, whispers rippling like waves as Ao'nung, the untamed future Olo'eyktan, announced a courtship? He'd never done this, never laid claim publicly, always keeping his entanglements fleeting and private. No woman worthy enough to be considered to be courted yet here is he now.
"I am courting her officially under Eywa's light. No other. She is the only woman I see, the only one who stirs my blood, who I'll bond with body and soul." His eyes locked on yours pleading as he pressed the necklace into your palm, closing your fingers around it. "Prove it? This is proof. You're it for me."
The crowd erupted in stunned chatter, faces alight with surprise as hunters exchanged wide-eyed looks and women clutching their baskets tighter in envy. Tsireya's lips curved into a knowing smirk, her gaze sliding to Saraye who paled, shoulders slumping as the implications sank in.
You stood there with the necklace warm in your hand, heart pounding wildly, the lewd promise in his earlier words still echoing making your body hum with unspent tension. You hadn't given in fully, not yet as the hesitance in you held you back demanding more time to believe but the public vow cracked something inside leaving you trembling on the edge, his obsession a thrilling current pulling you closer.
The murmurs of the clan still swirled around you like the eddies in a tidal pool, eyes lingering on the two of you with a mix of awe and curiosity but Ao'nung's declaration hung in the air like a claimed territory.
You searched his face, those sharp features etched with a sincerity that cut through the haze of your doubts.
He wasn't a liar, no.
The future Olo'eyktan might chase skirts and leave hearts in his wake but deceit wasn't his vice. He was transparent with everything. His words had weight, forged in the heat of his affections for you and they settled over you, heavy yet oddly reassuring.
Hesitantly you nodded, the motion small, your chin dipping just enough to signal surrender to the moment.
A wide triumphant grin split his face, his teeth flashing white against the teal of his skin as he stepped closer, the crowd fading into a distant hum. His fingers brushed the nape of your neck sending a shiver racing down your spine. The necklace's cool pearls slid against your collarbone as he fastened it, the shell pendant nestling between the soft swell of your breasts right where your beaded top parted slightly with each breath.
"You're so beautiful, yawntu." He murmured, voice dropping to a husky timbre that vibrated through the scant space between you, his gaze tracing the way the light caught the curve of your jaw and the full pout of your lips. "I'll court you every day, even after we're mated. I always will."
His thumb lingered at the clasp, a gentle press that made your pulse stutter, the warmth of his body invading your senses of musk and sea salt mingling with the faint earthy scent of his arousal.
You bit your lower lip, the plump flesh caught between your teeth as uncertainty flickered in your chest, words caught in your throat like fish in a net. The public vow was one thing but the intimacy of his promise tugged at something deeper, a shy ache that made your thighs press together subtly.
Ao'nung's eyes darkened at the sight, his breath hitching as he leaned in, forehead nearly touching yours.
"Come home?" He asked, the plea raw in his tone, laced with a vulnerability that cracked his usual bravado. "The marui doesn't feel like home without you in it anymore."
His hand found yours, fingers interlacing with a possessiveness that sent heat blooming across your skin, his calluses scraping lightly against your palm. Warmth flooded your chest, a gentle tide washing over the remnants of your resistance, easing the knot there. You nodded again, more firmly this time, letting him lead you away from the pavilion's edge, his stride confident as he wove through the thinning crowd.
The path to his marui wound along the lagoon's fringe, bioluminescent vines glowing faintly in the late afternoon light, their tendrils swaying like silent witnesses.
Behind you, Tsireya's voice cut through the air, sharp and laced with satisfaction as she turned to Saraye who stood rigid with her arms still crossed over her chest. Tsireya's smirk was a blade, her eyes gleaming with protective glee.
"He was never yours to begin with." She said, voice low but carrying the weight of finality, her posture straight and unyielding. "You better be glad my brother is too busy with her right now or you would have been punished for what you did."
Saraye's face drained of color, her lips parting in a silent retort but Tsireya turned away leaving the words to fester like an open wound.
Ao'nung was all smiles as he guided you up the familiar woven steps to his marui, the entrance draped in kelp curtains that parted with a soft rustle. The space inside enveloped you as he pulled you deeper, his hand never leaving yours until you stood in the heart of it, the low platform bed piled with soft furs in the corner.
"I'm taking your things back from your marui tomorrow." He declared, his grin softening into something warmer and more intimate as he faced you fully, his broad shoulders filling the doorway behind. "You belong here."
His free hand rose to trace the necklace's path along your throat, fingers dipping lower to skim the edge of your top where the beads clung to the underside of your breast. You nodded, the motion automatic, your body already yielding to the pull of his presence, the way his tattoos seemed to shift with each flex of muscle under his skin.
He exhaled slowly, stepping closer until his chest brushed yours, the hard planes pressing against your softer curves.
"I cannot erase my past, (Y/N). I was a skxwang." He said, voice rough with earnestness, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. "But I will do everything in my power to shield you from it. You... changed me. I want to be better for you and I will."
The confession hung between you, his hand sliding to your waist, thumb circling the dip above your hipbone igniting a spark that traveled straight to your core.
Your lips parted, a soft exhale escaping as you searched his face, the sincerity there chipping away at the last barriers.
"How?" You whispered, voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity, your fingers tightening in his grip. "You've always been... free with your affections. What makes this different? Me?"
Ao'nung's jaw tightened, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he pulled you flush against him, the rigid length of his cock pressing insistently against your belly through his loincloth.
"Everything." He breathed, his mouth hovering near your ear, breath fanning the sensitive shell. "You make me burn, yawntu. Not like the others who were just fleeting fires. With you, it's a storm, crashing and endless. I dream of tasting you, of making you writhe under me until you forget anyone came before you."
His words were a caress, filthy and direct, stirring an unfamiliar heat between your legs, a slick warmth that made you shift restlessly. You swallowed hard, cheeks flushing as naivety mixed with the budding ache.
"Tasting?" The question came out breathy and innocent, your wide eyes meeting his unaware of the depths he meant.
A feral glint entered his gaze, his grip on your waist firming as he guided you backward toward the bed platform, the furs yielding under your calves.
"Let me show you." He urged, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper laced with hunger. "No further than this, not yet. Just... let me worship you. See how it binds us closer than words."
His free hand trailed down your side, hooking into the tie of your loincloth loosening it with deliberate slowness, the fabric whispering as it fell away exposing the smooth expanse of your thighs and the untouched mound between them.
Your heart hammered with a shy protest rising but it died on your tongue as he knelt before you, his strong hands parting your legs gently, thumbs stroking the inner skin until gooseflesh prickled.
"Ao'nung..." You murmured, half plea and half wonder, your hands clutching his shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscle there.
The air felt charged and heavy with anticipation, your body trembling as he looked up at you, eyes dark with obsession.
"Trust me." He said, the words a vow, his breath ghosting over your core, making you gasp at the sudden sensitivity.
He leaned in, nose brushing the softness above your slit inhaling deeply, the musky sweetness of your arousal hitting him like a drug, his cock twitching painfully against the confines of his cloth, pre-cum beading at the tip.
"Eywa, you smell like sin and salvation. So fucking good." He groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin as his tongue flicked out, tracing a tentative line along your outer fold.
The sensation was electric, a jolt that arched your back, your thighs quivering as you gripped him tighter. You innocence shattered in that first touch of the wet and insistent tongue parting your lower lips to lap at the slickness gathering there. You whimpered needily, your hips bucking instinctively toward the source of pleasure as unfamiliar waves build low in your belly.
He growled in response, feral now, hands clamping onto your wide hips to hold you steady, his fingers sinking into the plush flesh as he devoured you. His mouth was relentless, tongue circling your entrance before delving inside, thrusting shallowly to taste your depths, the lewd wet sounds filling the marui like a forbidden chant.
"So tight, so fucking delicious." He mumbled against you, the vibrations sending sparks up your spine, his nose nudging your swelling clit with each eager press.
You moaned head falling back, the necklace's pendant swaying with the motion and cool against your heated skin. Pleasure coiled tighter, a pressure you'd never known making your toes curl into the furs.
"What... what is this?" You gasped, voice breaking as his lips sealed around your pearl sucking gently then harder, teeth grazing just enough to tease.
"This is you coming alive for me." He rasped, pulling back briefly, his chin glistening with your essence, eyes wild with lust as he stroked himself through his loincloth, the outline of his thick shaft straining.
The sight made your core clench emptily, a fresh gush of wetness coating his waiting tongue as he dove back in, lapping sloppily and nastily like a man starved. His tongue flattened dragging from your entrance to your clit in long deliberate strokes savoring every drop and every quiver.
Minutes blurred in agonizing bliss as he alternated between soft licks and fervent sucks, one hand sliding up to pinch and roll your nipple through the beads, the dual assault making stars burst behind your eyelids. Your breaths came in pants, body slick with sweat and breasts heaving as the tension wound higher, your innocence yielding to the raw ecstasy he coaxed from you.
"That's it, yawntu." He encouraged between laps, voice muffled and desperate, his free hand fisting the furs to keep from touching himself further, cock leaking steadily now, the damp spot growing. "Let go for me. I want to feel you flood my mouth, mark me as yours."
His words pushed you closer, the obsession in his tone mirroring the love that simmered beneath, his mouth working you with single-minded fervor.
The peak crashed over you slowly at first then all at once. A tidal wave of sensation that had you crying out, thighs clamping around his head as your walls fluttered, release soaking his eager tongue. He drank it down, humming in approval, not stopping until you sagged boneless and spent, his kisses turning gentle on your trembling thighs.
Rising slowly, he pulled you into his arms, cock still hard and insistent against your hip but he held back, forehead resting against yours.
"See?" He whispered, voice hoarse with restraint. "This is just the beginning. You're mine now, in ways words can't touch."
Your body hummed with aftershocks, the corruption sweet and irreversible, drawing you deeper into his web.
Since then, your days blurred into a rhythm of relentless pursuit from him. Ao'nung's promises weaving into the fabric of your shared life like vines claiming a trellis. From that charged day in the marui, he hadn't faltered, not once. His courtship unfolded with a shameless fervor that left the clan buzzing with whispers trailing you both like schools of fish in the lagoon. He was a man unashamed, his affections poured out in broad daylight drawing eyes yet there was a steadiness to it now, a depth that silenced the skeptics over time.
Ronal's approval came first, her sharp gaze softening in ways you'd rarely seen.
As the family gathered in the central marui for the dawn meal, the air thick with the scent of roasted fish and fresh ilu kelp, she pulled Ao'nung aside after the others had scattered to their tasks. You lingered near the entrance, adjusting the shell bracelet he'd gifted you the day before, its smooth edges cool against your wrist. Tonowari nodded from his seat by the fire pit, his broad frame relaxed but it was Ronal who spoke, her voice a quiet command laced with warmth.
"Take care of (Y/N)." She said, her hand resting on his arm, fingers pressing into the inked patterns that marked his lineage. Her eyes, usually piercing with the weight of her tsahìk duties, held a rare tenderness, the lines around them crinkling faintly. "As much as you are my son, she is also a daughter to me."
The words carried the gravity of her promise to Riki’ea and Ar'von, her posture straightening as she glanced toward you with a subtle smile curving her lips.
Ao'nung met his mother’s gaze steadily, his jaw set with resolve, the muscles in his neck shifting under the morning light filtering through the woven walls.
He knew the roots of her affection, your mother had been her closest companion, a bond forged in youth and shattered too soon by death. Ronal had watched over you ever since, a silent guardian weaving you into the family's tapestry.
"I will, Mother." He replied, voice low and fervent, his hand covering hers briefly. "She's everything now. I swear it on the ancestors."
Tonowari grunted in approval clapping his son's shoulder with a firm thud that echoed his pride, the clan's future olo'eyktan finally stepping into the role they'd long urged.
The exchange lingered in Ao'nung's mind as he sought you out later that afternoon, the sun hanging high over the reef, casting dappled patterns on the sand. You were at the water's edge, knees drawn up as you watched young na'vi children splash in the shallows, their laughter mingling with the crash of waves.
He approached without preamble, dropping to sit beside you, his thigh brushing yours in a casual intimacy that sent a quiet thrill through your veins. His skin was warm from the hunt earlier, a faint sheen of sweat tracing the ridges of his abdomen where his loincloth rode low.
"Yawntu." He murmured, voice a soft rumble that drew your eyes to his face, to the strong line of his nose and the way his full lips quirked in that shameless grin. He reached for your hand, interlacing fingers with a gentleness that belied his being, thumb stroking the inside of your wrist where your pulse fluttered. "Walk with me? The cove beyond the mangroves, it's quiet there. Just us."
His gaze dipped briefly to the curve of your neck, where the necklace he'd placed there days ago rested against your skin, the pendant rising with each breath.
You hesitated only a moment, the warmth of his touch coaxing a nod from you, your body already leaning into the pull.
As you rose, he kept hold of your hand leading you along the shore, his stride measured to match yours, the sand shifting underfoot. The cove was a hidden gem, enclosed by twisting roots and lapped by gentle currents, the water a crystalline blue that invited submersion. He didn't release you until you both waded in up to your waists, the coolness shocking against the heat of the day.
There with the water buoying your forms, he turned to you, hands sliding to your waist, fingers splaying over the dip of your hips.
"I've been thinking of you all morning." He confessed, his breath warm against your temple as he drew you closer, chests nearly touching.
The water made everything feel weightless, his touch exploratory as palms glide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the thin barrier of your top. It was soft, this affection laced with a darker undercurrent that made your breath hitch as heat pooled low in your belly.
"Ao'nung." You whispered, a shy smile tugging at your lips despite the flush creeping up your neck.
His name felt natural on your tongue again but the old endearment hovered, waiting. You liked this, the way he looked at you like you were the only tide worth chasing, his body responding to yours with an openness that chipped away at your reservations.
He chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating through the water as he leaned in, lips grazing your earlobe. "Say it properly, yawntu. That one nickname I miss hearing from you."
His hands dipped lower, cupping the swell of your ass beneath the surface and squeezing just enough to elicit a soft gasp from you, the pressure firm yet tender, igniting sparks along your nerves.
Softening under his gaze, you let the words slip out, tentative at first.
"Nungie..." It was a murmur laced with affection, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw.
His eyes lit with triumph, a groan escaping him as he pulled you flush against him, the hard line of his arousal pressing into your thigh through the water's veil.
"There it is." He breathed, voice husky with desire, one hand tangling in your hair to tilt your head back, exposing the column of your throat.
He nuzzled there, lips trailing open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone, tongue flicking out to taste the salt on your skin mixed with the sea's brine. It was lewd in its intimacy, his free hand roaming to tease the tie of your top, loosening it just enough for the fabric to slip baring one turquoise breast to the cool air above the waves.
You arched into him, a quiet moan bubbling up as his mouth descended capturing the peaked nipple between his lips, sucking with a slow deliberate rhythm that sent jolts straight to your core. The water lapped around you, heightening every sensation of the swirl of his tongue, the gentle scrape of teeth, his hips rolling subtly to grind against you.
"Nungie, please." You whimpered, hands clutching his shoulders, nails leaving faint crescents on his teal skin.
He pulled back slightly, eyes dark with lust but tempered by reverence, his thumb circling your wet nipple.
"I could do this forever." He said, voice rough, forehead pressing to yours. "Taste every inch, make you feel how deep this runs."
But he reined it in, retieing your top with careful fingers, the promise lingering in his touch as he kissed you deeply, tongues tangling in a dance that left you breathless.
Word of his devotion spread like ripples from a dropped stone. The clan noticed the change, the way Ao'nung no longer lingered at gatherings with wandering eyes, his attention fixed solely on you. During a communal hunt preparation the next eve as warriors sharpened spears under the torchlight, he wove through the group to bring you a woven basket of fresh fruits, his hand brushing your lower back possessively as he leaned in.
"For you." He said, popping a ripe berry between your lips, his thumb lingering to wipe the juice from your chin, eyes locked on the way your mouth worked around it.
The gesture was affectionate and public drawing smirks from the others but he ignored them, focused on the spark in your eyes.
Tsireya watched from afar, her nod subtle, approval clear in her relaxed stance as she sees her brother finally making everything right for you.
That night back in the marui, the air hummed with the soft glow of lanterns, furs spread invitingly on the platform. He drew you down with him, bodies aligning in a tangle of limbs, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that started sweet and turned heated.
"You're softening to me." He observed between breaths, his hand slipping under your loincloth to cup your cunt gently, fingers tracing lazy circles over your folds without parting them, just enough pressure to make you squirm.
"Maybe I am." You admitted, voice breathy, calling him "nungie" again as you nipped at his lip, your leg hooking over his hip.
The lewd press of his erection against your thigh was insistent but he kept it teasing and with a drawn line, grinding slowly while his mouth explored your neck, sucking marks that bloomed like bruises of possession.
He proved it daily, to you in stolen touches that left you aching, to the clan in his unwavering focus, to his parents in quiet reports of your growing bond. Ronal's smile grew wider each time she saw you together, her hand often squeezing yours in passing, a silent affirmation.
And as the days stretched, your walls crumbled further which led to the very night he had been praying Eywa for.
The marui enveloped you in its hushed intimacy, the woven walls filtering the distant hum of the reef into a soothing lull. The lights casting a soft ethereal glow across the furs strewn over the sleeping platform, their light dancing on Ao'nung's teal skin as he knelt before you, his broad shoulders tense with a mix of reverence and barely leashed hunger.
Your heart pounded in your chest, a wild rhythm that echoed the waves outside, your wide hips shifting slightly as you sat cross-legged, the thin straps of your top straining against the swell of your breasts with each shallow breath.
His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours, the faint scar along his jaw catching the light, making his handsome features sharper and more commanding.
"Yawntu." He murmured, voice a low vibration that sent shivers racing down your spine, his large hand reaching for yours with a gentleness that contrasted the raw power in his frame. His fingers intertwined with yours, thumb tracing the delicate bones of your wrist. "Before anything... we bond. As Eywa wills it. I respect that. Your heart, your ways, your convictions."
There was a earnest plea in his tone, his gaze unwavering, the muscles in his neck flexing as he swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing on him like the ocean's depth.
You nodded, a flush warming your cheeks, your full lips parting on a soft exhale. The innocence that had shielded you for so long felt fragile now, cracking under the heat of his stare but trust bloomed in its place nurtured by his relentless courtship, the way he'd shadowed your days with touches that lingered just shy of demanding.
"Nungie." You whispered, the endearment slipping out like a secret, your free hand rising to brush your kuru, the neural tendrils within it quivering in anticipation. "Show me."
He leaned forward, his breath mingling with yours, the scent of salt and earth clinging to him like a second skin.
With deliberate care, he guided your kurus together, the pink tendrils uncoiling from their protective braids, seeking each other in the dim light. They met with a soft electric hum, connecting in a rush that stole your gasp, your body arching involuntarily as the bond snapped into place. Sensations flooded you, not just your own but his.
The fierce protectiveness that had taken root during those quiet mornings by the shore, the frustration of holding back when your laughter had first chipped at his guarded heart, the slow burn of desire that ignited fully in the marui nights, watching your hips sway as you moved. How he found you beautiful even way before the incident and how curiosity and fondness festered when he actually got to know you.
Memories cascaded through the link, vivid and unfiltered.
You saw Saraye's approach that fateful morning, her form pressing close muttering propositions and claims he rebuffed firmly, his mind already tangled in thoughts of you that day. The truth unfolded raw and undeniable, his encounters with her a fleeting accident as he was too determined to gather pretty shells and stones for you to apologize when she interrupted.
No lies, no hidden depths, just the stark honesty of a man remaking himself for one woman.
And then, the love.
It washed over you like a tidal surge, blooming from stolen glances during hunts, to the ache in his chest when you'd called him “nungie” again, to the all-consuming fire that now raged possessive and tender vowing to claim every part of you. You felt it in your bones, the depth of it mirroring the pull in your own soul, tears pricking your eyes as you clutched his hand tighter.
"It's real." You breathed voice trembling with awe, your supple curves pressing forward as you leaned into him, the bond amplifying the warmth pooling between your thighs.
Ao'nung's eyes darkened, a groan rumbling from his chest as the connection deepened, his free hand cupping your jaw, thumb sweeping over your lower lip. "All of it, yawntu. Every beat of my heart, yours now."
The bond thrummed with his arousal, a throbbing heat that matched the slick ache building in you but he held back, lips crashing against yours in a kiss that started fierce and melted into something soul-deep, tongues sliding in a rhythm that echoed the bond's pulse. When he finally pulled away, his breathing ragged, the air between you crackled with intent.
The tsaheylu held you linked, every sensation shared, heightening the anticipation as he eased you back onto the furs, his body following caging yours without crushing.
His hands roamed with purpose now, no longer teasing as his palms slid up your sides to tug at the ties of your top, freeing your breasts to the cool air. They spilled out full and heavy, nipples pebbling under his gaze and he wasted no time, mouth descending to latch onto one peak, sucking with a wet insistent pull that drew a keening moan from your throat.
"Nungie—oh." You gasped, fingers threading into his hair, the bond flooding you with his pleasure at the taste of you that’s salty-sweet on his tongue.
He lavished attention on your skin, teeth grazing just enough to sting then soothing with broad licks, his hips settling between your thighs, the hard ridge of his erection grinding against your core through the thin barrier of your loincloth. The friction was maddening, your hips bucking up instinctively chasing the pressure as wetness soaked the fabric.
He chuckled against your breast, the vibration sending sparks through you before trailing kisses lower, nipping at the soft curve of your belly, hands working to peel away your loincloth. It slid free, exposing the flesh of your folds, already glistening with need. Ao'nung's breath hitched, eyes devouring the sight, his cock twitching visibly against his own cloth, straining the ties.
"So beautiful." He rasped, voice thick with lust, fingers parting your thighs wider as his thumbs brushed the sensitive inner skin. "My innocent yawntu, all mine to ruin."
Through the bond, you felt his thrill. The primal satisfaction of being first, the only one to witness you like this bare and trembling. He dipped his head, nose nudging your clit before his tongue flicked out, lapping at your entrance with a slow deliberate stroke that made your back bow. The taste of you exploded on his senses and shared with you in a dizzying loop, his groans muffled as he delved deeper, tongue thrusting inside your tight heat curling to coax more of your essence.
You writhed legs quaking, the bond amplifying every swirl and every suck on your swollen nub until stars burst behind your eyelids.
"Please, ma muntxa. More." You begged voice breaking, your innocence fracturing under the onslaught of pleasure as your mind fogged with the sheer intensity.
He obliged, one finger joining his tongue, pressing past your virgin barrier with care, the stretch burning sweetly as he pumped slowly, scissoring to prepare you. The bond let you feel his restraint fraying, the way your walls clenched around him driving him wild and his pre-cum beading at his tip.
He rose then shedding his loincloth in a swift motion, his cock springing free as the flushed head leaked, curving slightly toward his taut abdomen. It was imposing, larger than you'd imagined in your shy fantasies and your eyes widened, a mix of awe and trepidation fluttering through the bond.
"This is for you, yawntu. Your first and last cock." Ao'nung's lips curved in a predatory smile, hand wrapping around the base, stroking once to ease the ache. "Gonna fill you so deep, make you take every inch."
Positioning himself at your entrance, he notched the tip against your folds, rubbing through the slickness to coat himself, the drag teasing your clit until you whimpered.
"Breathe for me." He instructed voice husky, leaning down to capture your mouth as he pushed forward.
The breach was slow, your tightness resisting then yielding with a pop that had you crying out into the kiss, nails digging into his biceps. Inch by inch, he sank in, the bond sharing the exquisite burn of your walls stretching around him, molding to his girth like they were made for it.
"Fuck so tight." He growled against your lips, hips stuttering as he bottomed out.
The bulge of his cock visible against your lower belly, a faint outline pressing upward. You felt full, impossibly so, every ridge and vein pulsing inside you, the bond echoing his ecstasy of the way your heat gripped him like a vice, milking him already. He stilled, forehead to yours, breaths mingling as he let you adjust, his hand splaying over the swell, his thumb pressing the bulge.
"Feel that? That's me, claiming you. My cock buried in your sweet little cunt."
Tears of overwhelmed sensation slipped down your temples but you nodded, hips shifting experimentally drawing a hiss from him.
"Move, Nungie. Please." You pleaded, voice dazed, the pleasure coiling tight in your core chasing the high he'd built with his mouth.
He did, pulling back almost to the tip before thrusting in deep, setting a rhythm that started measured, each slide dragging against your sensitive walls, the wet sounds of your joining filling the marui. The bond intensified it all, his building need, the slap of skin, the way your breasts bounced with each plunge.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass urging him deeper, your moans turning incoherent as he angled to hit that spot inside, sparks igniting with every grind.
"That's it, yawntu. Take me." He panted, pace quickening, one hand pinning your hip while the other teased your clit with circles matching his thrusts.
Sweat slicked your bodies, his tattoos gleaming as his muscles flexed, the scent of arousal heavy in the air. You felt yourself teetering, the bond pushing you over as your walls fluttered clenching in release, a gush of wetness coating him. He groaned riding it out, thrusts erratic as your orgasm milked him but he didn't stop, flipping you onto your stomach with a possessive growl.
"Not done." He murmured, voice rough with obsession, lifting your hips to enter from behind.
The new angle letting him go deeper, the bulge more pronounced as he rutted into you. His hand snaked around to rub your oversensitive nub, the other tangling in your hair to arch your back, exposing the kuru still linked. Through it, you felt his intent crystal clear, the drive to breed, to flood you with his seed and make it take root.
"Gonna fill this pussy, make you swell with my child. Make you a mama carrying our future."
The words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, your body responding despite the ache, pushing back to meet his hips, the lewd squelch of your combined fluids spurring him on. He pounded harder, balls slapping against your clit, the bond a torrent of his love twisted with feral need. It was nasty and unyielding, pouring into every snap of his hips. You came again vision blurring, mind going blissfully blank, cockdumb and lost in the stretch and the fullness as you mewled his name like a prayer.
Ao'nung followed with a growl, burying deep as he spilled hot pulses painting your walls, the bond letting you feel the rush of his release, the satisfaction of marking you inside out. He collapsed over you still joined, cock twitching with aftershocks, but even as he softened slightly, he rocked gently, ensuring every drop stayed buried.
"Mine." He breathed into your neck, kissing the bite he'd left earlier as his hand cradled your belly. "We'll do this again. Tonight, tomorrow, every day. Until it takes."
You hummed, sated and boneless, turning your head for a lazy kiss, the bond humming with shared contentment. He pulled out slowly after a time, only to flip you back, sliding in once more, already hardening at the sight of your flushed form and the cum leaking from your abused entrance.
The second round built slower, his thrusts languid, drawing out gasps as he worshipped your body anew with kisses to your throat, fingers pinching nipples, whispering filthy promises of the family you'd build.
By the third, you were a wreck of whimpers, riding him atop, hips grinding as he bucked up, the bulge reforming with each deep seat, his hands guiding your wide hips, thumbs digging into the soft flesh.
Hours blurred, the marui filled with your shared cries, the bond sealing not just your souls but your fates as his seed took hold in the fertile ground of your innocence, corrupted and cherished in equal measure.
Soon, sunlight filtered through the woven panels of the marui, casting golden flecks across the furs where you lay tangled with Ao'nung, your bodies still humming from the night's fervor.
Your skin tingled with a newfound warmth, a subtle ache between your thighs a reminder of his thorough claiming and as you stirred, a soft glow seemed to radiate from within, your cheeks flushed with contentment.
He was already awake, propped on one elbow, his tattooed arm draped possessively over your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns along the curve of your hip. His eyes, usually sharp with command, softened as they roamed your face, drinking in the way your lashes fluttered open and your full lips curving into a sleepy smile.
"Yawntu." He whispered, voice rough from sleep but laced with unbridled joy, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead then your nose, then the corner of your mouth.
He was insatiable in his affection, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent mingled with his own. A heady mix that made his chest rumble with satisfaction.
"My mate. Officially, irrevocably mine."
The words carried a triumphant edge, his broad frame shifting to pull you flush against him, the hard planes of his chest pressing into your softer form, his leg hooking over yours to keep you close.
You giggled, the sound light and bubbling up as his hands wandered with tender care, one cupping your breast gently, thumb brushing the sensitive peak until it hardened under his touch.
"Nungie." You murmured squirming playfully, your wide hips shifting against him, feeling the familiar stir of his arousal but basking in the simple intimacy.
He chuckled low and warm, moving to fetch a damp cloth from the basin nearby insisting on tending to you himself as he wiped away the remnants of your shared passion with slow reverent strokes that made your breath hitch.
"Let me." He insisted softly, his gaze locking onto yours with that intense devotion, the tattoos along his shoulders flexing as he worked.
He was happy, truly. Lines of tension smoothed from his forehead, a genuine smile tugging at his lips as he watched your reactions, your giggles filling the space like music. When he finished, he gathered you into his lap, feeding you bites of fresh fruit from the woven basket, his free hand stroking your kuru.
But as the morning deepened, reality tugged at you.
"I have to help Tsireya with something." You said reluctantly, trying to extricate yourself from his hold, your voice tinged with apology.
His arms tightened immediately, a dramatic whine escaping his throat. This towering inked warrior all muscle and scars pouting like a child denied a treat.
"No." He groaned burying his face in your hair, his breath warm against your scalp. "Stay. We just... bonded. I don't want to let you go, not even for a moment."
His voice cracked with mock despair but the clinginess was real, his hands roaming your back in pleading circles, pulling you closer until your breasts pressed against his chest.
You laughed, the sound turning into more giggles as you cupped his face, thumbs tracing the strong line of his jaw. "Nungie, come on. It's just a few hours. You'll survive."
But he shook his head stubbornly, nipping at your earlobe, his teeth grazing just enough to send a shiver down your spine.
"Cruel, yawntu. Leaving your mate so soon after making him the happiest man in the clan." His eyes sparkled with mischief but there was a vulnerable undercurrent, the reluctance of distance after so much closeness.
You pouted up at him, lips pursing in that way you knew melted him, your eyes wide and pleading. "Please? For me?"
He held out for a heartbeat longer, jaw clenching then sighed dramatically, relenting with a grumbled curse under his breath.
"Fine. But I'm walking you there."
He stood pulling you up with him, his hands lingering on your waist as he helped you dress. Tying your loincloth with deliberate slowness, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs drawing a fresh flush to your cheeks.
The path to the family marui wound through the village, the air alive with the calls of ilu and the chatter of early risers.
Ao'nung kept you tucked against his side, arm around your shoulders, his thumb stroking your arm in absent affection. But as you approached, his expression soured into a frown, forehead knitting when Tsireya spotted you from the entrance, her face lighting up with a knowing grin.
"Tsireya!" You called waving but Ao'nung's grip tightened fractionally, his steps slowing.
She laughed outright, the sound bright and teasing, leaning against the woven frame.
"Look at you two. And you—" She pointed at her brother, eyes dancing. "Frowning like a sulking pup. What's wrong, brother? Can't bear to share her?"
He scowled deeper, crossing his arms over his broad chest, the tattoos shifting with the flex of his muscles. "Shut up, Reya."
But there was no real heat in it, just the playful bickering of siblings.
Tsireya turned to you then, her gaze softening as she took in your appearance. The subtle shine to your skin, the relaxed curve of your smile, the way you carried yourself with a newfound ease.
"You look glowing, (Y/N). Truly radiant." Her voice held genuine warmth, a hint of relief threading through.
Ao'nung's frown lifted into a smug smirk, his chest puffing slightly as he shot her a triumphant glance.
Yes, my cock did that.
He thought, the satisfaction blooming in his chest though he kept it to himself, instead pulling you closer with a possessive hand on your hip.
You swatted at his arm lightly, cheeks warming under the attention. "Go on, Nungie. Shoo. I need girl time with Tsireya."
But he planted his feet shaking his head, his expression turning mulish.
"No. I'm staying." His tone brooked no argument, eyes fixed on you with that unyielding intensity, the broad span of his shoulders blocking the path as if daring anyone to challenge him.
Tsireya snorted, rolling her eyes skyward. "Stubborn as ever. Come on, then. Help or not but don't be a headache Ao’nung."
Inside the marui, the air smelled of herbs and sea salt, mats spread with half-mended nets and beads scattered for weaving.
You settled cross-legged on the floor, Tsireya beside you, passing over a bundle of fibers to start on.
Ao'nung followed dropping down behind you with a huff, his legs bracketing yours, arms encircling your waist to draw you back against his chest. His chin rested on your shoulder, breath fanning your neck as you began chatting, your fingers deftly twisting the materials.
Tsireya watched the pair of you for a moment then shook her head with an exasperated laugh. "You're so clingy, Ao'nung. You do not have to be here, you know? We can handle mending without your brooding presence."
He smirked against your skin, lips brushing your ear in a way that made you shiver, his hold tightening just enough to emphasize his point.
"That's what mates do, right? Stay close. Protect what's mine." His voice was low and teasing but the words carried a deeper truth, the warmth of his body seeping into yours, making it hard to focus on the task.
You could only giggle leaning into him despite yourself, the vibration of his chuckle rumbling through you as Tsireya launched into another retort.
"Protect? From what, loose threads? You're ridiculous." She flicked a bead at him but her eyes sparkled with amusement, the sibling squabble light-hearted, pulling more laughter from you as you mediated with playful nudges.
From the doorway, a distance away, Ronal leaned against the frame, her arms crossed loosely, a soft smile curving her lips as she observed the scene. The three of you, her children and the woman who'd become like a daughter, bickering and laughing, the marui filled with a harmony she'd long hoped for.
Riki'ea.
She thought, her gaze lingering on you with quiet affection.
I hope you're seeing this. Your daughter is truly happy now.
The words were a silent prayer to her best friend and her husband, her heart swelling at the sight of your joy, that selective amnesia started the bond that had finally woven you and Ao’nung together.
summary : neteyam & his family have returned to awa'atlu, residing. as the eldest daughter of tonowari & ronal you are expected to find a mate via your people. when the olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya, also ao'nung's best friend, reenters your life - you're thrown off course.
but when you are caught participating in such scandalous acts, will you mate with who you love?
warnings!
mdni, 18+ language, swearing/cussing, slight angst, mean neteyam, smut, sex in public, rough sex, creampie, neteyam's a munch, reader is not petite, corruption, reader is oblivious, reader's inexperienced, spitting, overstim just smut & fluff!
a/n 📝 : no spell or grammar checks soz, i love bridgerton istg who's excited for the 4th season!? ✨ (ps this is long asf)
you dreamed of love as something fascinating, hard to come by.
it is not mere the thought of our minds it is beyond our imagination, beyond the lessons we are taught as we grow.
but how were you meant to know love would face you from one of a different clan, different tradition. you were not expecting to be pulled from your family like this, residing in a mauri which was empty and cold with silence.
your people and family are important to you. awa'atlu is your home, your beginning and hopefully your end, you are one with the metkayina. awa'atlu is home to many, land of 1000 years old surround the people, there is lesson, teachings, guidance, through the waters.
but when you declined every sing lelefnelan (male) na'vi that stepped before you, there was no place for you to complain with where you are now. you brought this upon yourself. your sa'nok (mother) and sempu (father), the Great Olo'eyktan Tonowari te Tsika'u Arvak'itan & Tsahìk Ronal te Natsira Tan'ite, pushed you to bring life to the clan. have children, find your mate for life, perform tsaheylu before eywa.
blah blah blah.
marriage was exciting, finding that someone was exhilarating. but you did not expect it to come like this. losing your position as the next olo'eykte for love. maybe it was the thrill of looking rather than gaining.
you were not shown of what is to come, what may happen. you were not told of the addicting sensation that happens between your thighs. you were not prepared for the aspects of marriage.
disappointment is what filled your parents at first, heavy silence, lectures every time you breathed, what else were they expecting from you? you cannot force tsaheylu with a lelefnelan (male) you do not love, it is painful just the thought of it.
you are rebellious in your parents eyes, hard to tame, annoying once your mouth is open. don't point fingers! it is not your fault that you have a mind of your own and do not rely on a significant other to respond for you.
years of childish behaviour, roaming the waters freely, getting into fights that you would lose, eating at your hearts desire, not caring of your image.
it is only until recently you have become more...tamed.
you are the Metkayina's crowned pearl. a burdening title but one where those of the other clans make you the talk of the century. is it a flex? possibly. a title rewarded for your care of the people, modesty, looks & skills. you have to put on a character for the people, they cannot see who you truly are.
when the Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya had graced you with his presence it was almost as if you had returned to being a teenager. a sudden wash of deja vu filled you when laying eyes upon him, your soul had been this close to him before.
Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan, Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya. when your family had first met them, they were all children, teens. the bond between you all formed naturally, from years of fighting beside one another.
but you were never close to neteyam, you were best friends with lo'ak. his younger brother, the Tulkun Makto. he is your sister's lover but also a younger brother beside ao'nung in your eyes.
neteyam was adamant on keeping you away from having fun, ruining every single ounce of excitement with his lectures. he behaved more like your father than ao'nung did. neteyam the party pooper. tuk created that name for him when he lined all of you up and told you off for trying to adventure to the sea dragon.
when neteyam had almost died before you, it was your name he called out. a friendship that suddenly became so fuelling, you thought of him as a soul mate.
but as time goes on, people change, feelings change too.
word had spread to the omatikaya that you were now accepting proposals, neteyam's family were ecstatic. but neteyam? it was an alarming feeling of betrayal that flowed through him. he didn't expect you to be so foolishly blind.
he had his eyes on you the moment he saw you but you did not entertain him, you did not look his way. you got closer with his brother instead. he tried every conversation with you but it did not last. until you fought side by side, protecting one another. you were locked in with him.
the day neteyam had arrived, you were not expecting anything from it. but what you didn't seem to remind yourself is that he is a man and you are a woman.
you could not sense of what was to come.
"tsmuke (sister)!"
ao'nung's voice pulls you from your thoughts.
"yes bro,"
"the na'ring (forest) na'vi have returned!,"
surprise slaps you round the face.
"the sullys have returned?"
"yes! are you coming to see them?"
your heart drops to your stomach, stepping outside your mauri pod with speed.
"let's go!,"
the two of you dive, darting through the water to the shores of awa'atlu.
the people are celebrating, welcoming the dark skinned na'vi before you. their tails are still as small. but their frames, they are taller, wider, larger. seeing them from behind, you could easily recognise who was who from their frames.
the backs of the two siblings, are defined. curved with muscles, taller in size, larger in frame. they had grown.
ao'nung rushes over to greet them but you don't follow so quickly, you stand back, watching.
"my friend."
ao'nung embraces neteyam, warmly.
"brother, it is good to see you." neteyam's voice is deeper.
his accent is thicker, heavy with every word. his voice is louder, every word so easily heard even if he were to whisper. just his voice screams olo'eyktan.
ao'nung and tsireya greet the sullys with love, your mother & father are quick to do the same. but you do not move any closer, you can only look.
her presence is clear. she is far but i can feel her, she is watching us. neteyam thinks to himself, a smirk lingering on his lips. he can sense you even from a mile away, he can smell your scent of...lilies, paskalin (sweet berry). neteyam's heart thuds against his chest, excitement.
"daughter, come forth," your father's booming voice, calls for you.
each step is gentle, standing beside your father. you lift your gaze, slowly, the sully's stand before you with shock.
neteyam couldn't stop the spark that travels down to his cock from seeing you. you have grown into a woman hand crafted by eywa herself, born again. you do not wear the same figure as before, you are rounder. so full in every corner he looks to, your thighs are thicker, stomach blessed with a pudge. your chest is swell, the roundness of your breasts elevated by the thin material you adorn.
stretch marks are luminous on your skin, travelling up your knees, muscled biceps, corners of your stomach. you hide them with tattoos that lie on your wide hips. tenderly built, full in a way that marked warmth. your face still adorned the full cheeks that are painted with the same pink hue.
you were everything neteyam did not expect and it only fuelled a feeling in him that lied dormant since he left awa'atlu. since he left your side. you had ignited the fire in him, desire.
it is tuktirey's voice that brings you back to reality, her squeal of your name has you walking over to her. you greet every sully with a tight hug, even their father, before you stand just breaths before neteyam.
he is no longer the boy that you would tease on purpose, the boy that would ruin all your fun. he is not the party pooper you remember.
you sigh as you think back to the day you had first met him after many years. neteyam wore scars as if they were the same blessed tattoos you have, he stands much taller, he looms. his face is chiseled, lips full. braids hang just past his shoulders, the same beads and feather behind his ear. he was so built. defined muscles, torso lined with abs, drool fills your mouth.
it was a fleeting feeling at first, the initial meeting was shy. your eyes did not meet but you shook each other's hands with blushes coating each other. a skip of a heart beat you did not register hitched your breath.
since that day, meeting the Olo'eyktan had become painful. he spoke very few words but let his eyes continue the rest of a conversation. he walked through the villages with his shoulders rolled back, hands behind his back. he still stood two steps behind his father, he was the Olo'eyktan and did not force his image.
interactions came more often, you could not escape the man no matter what corner you turned.
"do you not enjoy the celebrations with your people?," he asks you, lowering himself.
you look up at him through your lashes, a small smile on your lips as you take a bite of the fresh meat caught from the hunt.
"does it seem this way, olo'eyktan?"
he laughs to himself, you do not say his name out of respect, more out of mockery.
"it does."
his blunt reply has you silent.
"I hear you are planning on mating," he asks.
"yes...I am."
"I see,"
"do you have a partner, olo'eyktan?"
his silence has you questioning yourself.
"I do not."
"oh,"
"it's out of choice rather than...not being accepted,"
"I did not ask," you smirk.
he grins, shaking his head.
"still the same it seems,"
"of course,"
he hums, standing beside you in silence. the two of you do not utter another word that night, enjoying the quiet presence between one another.
at other times, neteyam would purposefully step in the way.
"you still have gift i made you,"
lo'ak smiles.
"of course I do sis, why would I get rid of it?,"
you grin, hugging him tightly.
"I'm happy to see you again bro,"
"me too, it's been a long time."
"it has, I'm sure things are better though, right?"
"yeah, we're just rebuilding ourselves at the moment,"
"that's good to hear, will you guys be staying for long?"
"depends on dad and neteyam,"
"I see,"
he nods, grabbing your hand.
"your sister missed you every time she left," he says.
"I'm glad she was with you,"
"me too, we wish you were with us,"
"I'm sure I will visit the forest soon, your father has ordered me to come soon,"
he laughs.
"yeah, dad talks about you all the time,"
"he does?" surprise filling you.
before lo'ak can speak any further, neteyam's eyes are dark as they scan your figure.
"bro," lo'ak greets.
"baby bro,"
lo'ak looks down at your joined hands, his brother's eyes hot on them. he lets go fast, patting your shoulder, gulping.
lo'ak knows his elder brother has always had his eyes on you, he knows how much he tried but failed. you were too close to lo'ak, you did not recognise the elder brother who also wanted to be close with you.
"bro,"
"yeah?" neteyam responds.
"you still got feelings for y/n?"
neteyam spits out the food he was eating, lo'ak gags.
"what's wrong with you?" neteyam muffles with a mouthful.
"first of all, that's disgusting. and just the mention of her name has you fumblin', mighty warrior," he mocks.
neteyam rolls his eyes, cleaning himself up.
"when did I ever have feelings for her?" he spits.
"c'mon bro, you weren't fooling anyone even if you didn't, you wanted to get close to her."
"bro..." neteyam sighs.
"she's kinda...she can't tell left from right, if you don't remember,"
"yeah, i know," neteyam groans.
"you had time though bro, you could've told her."
"wasn't the right time baby bro,"
lo'ak nods, rubbing his brothers back.
"she's gonna get wifed then knocked up bro, you better get a move on," he laughs.
neteyam scowls.
"shut your skxawng ass up lo'ak."
every single interaction had a space for neteyam to butt into. he did not let you have any sort of conversation without being there or eavesdropping behind you.
it wasn't attractive, it was jarring. it only spurred your annoyance towards him.
"are the standards that low y/n?," neteyam spits.
"excuse me?"
"you seem to be offering every man a chance,"
"does it seem that way? why does it concern you?" you grit.
"you must be weak minded."
anger burns through your skin.
"do not jest with me, neteyam."
"does it look like i'm making jokes?" his brow cocks.
you scoff.
"right and you clearly don't have any standards since you have no partner,"
he growls.
"don't try it with me y/n, I am just telling you. you have better choices of men, do not allow all of them such closeness with you, just for you to reject them." he shakes his head, sighing.
"and what are you going to do? help me find a mate?"
neteyam gulps, tilting his head.
"yes," he breathes out.
shock short circuits your mind.
"y-you what?"
"I will help you,"
if only you could run back and tell yourself to not fall into this trap, setting yourself up with your stupidity. neteyam announced courting you loud and clear, a promise made between you two.
"you will court me,"
neteyam's head almost snaps.
"what?"
"if you want to help me, you can't just walk around by my side. you must court me,"
"y/n."
"what? you have nothing to lose, don't stress it olo'eyktan. once we find the right one, we can go our separate ways."
you must have lost cells from every fight you lost in your time, because your stupidity angered neteyam. he could not believe the shit that was coming out of your mouth and neither can you, now that you look back at it.
now here you are, stuck in a space of hell. punished with the olo'eyktan next to you at every second. and each time you are near he puts this feeling in you, this thought, the world is slower at every step he takes.
his aura is threatening, his eyes are dangerous and that mouth. every single bit about him has your head spinning, your chest heavy with pressure when he is near.
what was meant to be joint partnership in succeeding you with a partner has turned into something that neither of you were expecting.
"neteyam, this is absurd!," you giggle.
"a man only has to take one look at you and he will claim you as his y/n,"
you roll your eyes, pressing your fingers, gently, into his arm.
a shiver is sent up his spine, your faint touch has his skin burning.
"you do not see how they look at you?"
you cock your hip, turning to face him.
"I do not."
"each time I speak to you i think you will remain oblivious forever,"
"hey! don't be mean,"
he shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest.
"i mean it, you're naive,"
"neteyam, i have simple conversation with simple men,"
"and, you fail to find the conversations interesting, your people here are not simple, they are anything but that."
you match his stance, crossing your arms over your chest.
you don't realise what mirroring him has done to you, your breasts lift; threatening to spill. neteyam's eyes can't help but flicker down at them. he smiles to himself. you can't help yourself even if you tried.
"how is them trying to sell themselves to me interesting? you should listen to the things they say!,"
neteyam only kisses his teeth in response.
so oblivious, you do not realise the cart of fruit that is about to hit you. neteyam pulls you in by your wrist, hand heavy on your waist as he moves you before him.
as if you have been winded, you gasp. heart racing at the sudden manhandling. no man has tried to carry you, you thought it was because you're too heavy. but he has lifted you with ease. no strain.
"careful," he whispers.
not realising how close he is to you, neteyam scans you face. the shock has drained colour from your face. he holds you tighter, rubbing soothing circles into your waist.
your eyes are wide, your lips parted.
"are you okay?,"
he lowers his head, moving it to each side of your face and body, analysing for a wound.
"i-i'm...i am not hurt," you whisper.
his hands are rough, calloused. heavy but warm. his hold on you has your skin prickling. licking your dry lips, you lull your head back.
"you are not hurt,"
"i am not." you breathlessly reply.
warmth pools in your belly, a tingle underneath your tweng (loincloth) has you squeezing your thighs together.
it doesn't go unnoticed by neteyam. his brows furrow, eyes flicking from your lips to both of your eyes. your breasts are pushed together, elevating the breaths you are struggling to take.
neteyam sniffs the air, paskalin. so close and intoxicating. the smell of your arousal has his ears flicking, tail curled higher. he smirks, letting his hand rub lower across your back. watching how you shiver below him.
you bite your lower lip, gulping. his warmth has you alarmed. pushing him off in an instant.
struggling to catch your breath, you turn on your heel.
"we will see each other later,"
he does not respond, inhaling your lingering scent on his hands.
you're aroused and you don't even know it.
neteyam is meant to feel ashamed, you're pure, untouched. & he's putting his hands all over you, ruining your modesty. it doesn't push him away from you, it brings him closer. when neteyam wants something, he will do anything to gain it. neteyam is a tsamsiyu (warrior) and he has the skills to achieve anything. even if it meant you.
but his mind isn't set on having you, no. it's to make you desperate for him, no man being able to provide the same presence. he came to awa'atlu to congratulate you, support you but now that he's seen how much you've changed? yeah, no. it was the stupid conversations you have with these men that are only after one thing, he doesn't want that to happen to you! neteyam's just looking out for you.
moulding you. he doesn't deserve you, he knows he'd be torturing you if he had you as his. you would not live the life you live now.
since the day neteyam had his hands on you, you crave for it more. wanting to feel his hands on you just a little longer, the feeling in your belly does not return until he is with you. the feeling between your thighs only happens when you're with him, you want it again.
and you got it alright, any excuse, any small excuse, neteyam had his hands on you.
ꨄ︎
"let us go this way y/n,"
his hand on the small of your back, remaining there as he pulled you, gently, to a different path. that same feeling returns.
"mind your step,"
his large hand holds yours, the roughness rubbing your hand in a soothing way.
ꨄ︎
"oh, your hair,"
"huh?"
he moves your hair behind your ear, tucking it, gently. butterflies fill your stomach.
ꨄ︎
"here,"
"thank you," you whisper.
he hands you a plate of food, filled largely. a smile coats your face.
ꨄ︎
"y/n,"
his breath is hot on the back of your neck, breath hitching, you turn to face him.
"yes?" you shakily respond.
he doesn't say a word, invading your personal space with his looming figure.
"I brought you a gift,"
"you did?," grinning.
"close your eyes,"
"we're not children neteyam,"
"just do it,"
closing your eyes, you place your hands up in the air. your cheeks ache from your hard grin, but when something cold is placed in your hands, you can't help but hum.
"what is it?"
"open your eyes,"
in your hands is your songcord, attached with new beads.
"what's this?"
"one for looking for proposals, one for our return to awa'atlu & the last one is for our new found friendship," his voice is soft.
warmth coats your entire body, you squeal as you pull him into a hug. knocking the wind out of his chest, neteyam lowers himself, steading you with his hands on your waist.
both of you laugh together, holding one another. but you don't realise, the beads are the same colours as the ones in neteyam's hair.
he has completely invaded your space, mind and soul. whatever man you talk to does not stimulate you the way neteyam does. no one interests you as much, no one has you second looking. it's painful, a waste of time. having to participate in pointless conversation that are not leading anywhere.
so you have begun flat out declining.
you do not want your time taken away from neteyam, no other man should waste hours of your days when you could be communicating with the man who knows just what you dislike and like, how to get a reaction out of you & what the right words are to ease your mind.
the grass isn't always greener.
he sits before you, eating fresh meat and sticky fruits. even when he is sat next to you, his frame is still taller. there is no denying the difference in your size next to the olo'eyktan.
"are you even listening to what I'm saying?," you shout.
"I am, I'm multi tasking,"
"what eating and not replying?"
"no...eating & listening."
rolling your eyes, you cross your arms, watching him.
the juice of a fruit rolls down his index and middle fingers, coating them. he tuts before...you're set on fire. you're burning before the man. your heart thuds in your ears, your throat dry.
neteyam's long tongue wraps around either of his fingers, lapping up the juices that trickle down before shoving both the finger in his mouth.
his long lashes flutter before he makes his eyes to yours, he's got you right where he wants you. you're dazed, starry eyed. watching him as every fibre in your body sets alight. your doe eyes stare at him, chest rising with each breath you take.
neteyam's eyes watch for any slight change in your expression, tracking even the smallest flicker. pleased focus. your eyes move to his, glossy.
bright to dark, desire coating his eyes. his pupils dilated, he lets go his fingers with a pop.
your flustered face is bright pink, glowing.
"you okay?," he smugly asks.
that same smell, sweet. your arousal shifts the air you breath, intoxicating his brain.
"y-yeah," you hiccup.
you stand with urgency, shaking.
"i don't feel well, i will see you another time,"
"you don't feel well or you're aroused?"
his question forces your eyes on his.
"w-what?"
"your chest rises faster, your heartbeat is loud, your lips are wet and your pupils are dilated. it is not an illness, you are aroused y/n,"
"w-what? n-no, stop I have to go."
he pulls you onto his lap by his wrist, a gasp turning into a quiet moan.
"neteyem! s-someone will catch us, let go of me!,"
but you do not fight to be freed, your relax further into his hold. he chuckles at your words, chest vibrating against your back.
"do you feel it between your thighs?," he whispers against your ear.
you shiver, hands gripping onto his thick forearms.
you purse your lips, closing your eyes, focusing on trying to stay silent.
your ass is right on his cock, so soft and full.
"tell me,"
his breath travels down your neck.
you nod, slow.
"do you understand what that feeling is?"
you shake your head no.
"it is arousal. does it feel wet and sticky?," he snarls.
you nod.
he groans, cock twitching, he can't stop his hips from rolling just gently.
"fuck," he groans.
you moan against him, his voice sends flushes to your stomach, goosebumps forming all over your light blue skin.
"have you ever touched yourself y/n?,"
confusion causes you to open your eyes.
"what? where?"
neteyam's eyes widen in shock.
"you've never touched yourself?"
"where? you've asked me this twice."
"you've never-"
his fingers slide across your body, pushing your thighs apart. you gulp in anticipation, letting out a shaky exhale. his fingers lightly tap you clothed clit, your back arches. a loud moan leaves your lips, the sensation makes your thighs tremble.
"touched your pussy?"
"n-no.."
"oh y/n."
you whine as his hand moves away. he coos, lifting you to face him, off of him. his strength warms your chest, the strange feeling of being able to be lifted by a man has you light headed.
"neteyam," you whimper.
he tuts.
"go home y/n and when you are alone, when it is quiet and dark outside. let your hands travel down your body, let your fingers touch your pussy, rub it, press down each time you touch your sensitive spot, explore yourself."
the voices of other have you running away, not listening to his call of your name. shock runs your body cold.
she'll do what i've asked her to do. neteyam whispers to himself, rubbing his thumb across his lips.
ding ding ding, he was right.
it is quiet in your mauri pod, silence filling the empty space. the moon is bright tonight, casting shadows within your home. you rid of your cover, closing your eyes.
neteyam fills your mind.
his body,
your hand travels lower.
his muscles,
your hand lets your breasts free, the cold air hardening your nipples. you hiss.
his golden eyes,
you rub your fingers across your nipple, arching into your touch. the sensitive buds sending sparks down you.
the way he held you in his arms,
your fingers travel to your tweng.
his larger frame caging yours,
moving your tweng to the side, you spread your legs wide.
the way he sucked his fingers,
your fingers push against your clit, yelping at the pleasure that bursts through you. you pant, stopping yourself. the feeling is so strange, so different. it has your insides buzzing, warm.
his fingers on your pussy,
rubbing your fingers against your pussy, your moan echoes through the darkness. the touch is exhilarating.
you keep rubbing, circling your clit, gathering the wetness of your pussy and spreading it over and through your folds. the faster you move, the intensity builds. the knot of pleasure inside you threatens to burst -
"neteyam," you moan.
the feeling washes over you, creaming as you shake. your eyes roll to the back of your head. this is addicting & all you've had is a taste of it.
neteyam could tell very well that you had touched yourself. your skin painted pink, cheeks rosy, chest rising each time he was no wear. no need to be so modest y/n.
you were so obedient already. he wanted to corrupt you with things you have never been taught, he wanted to show you what you have been missing out on.
but neteyam was a shy man when it came to his emotions, he's never had the space to talk about how he feels. there was never a need at times.
you began to fill his mind more than you already did. it was not poison, he began to hate himself. hate the thoughts that filled him. his morals did not align with what he was hungry for.
it did not stop, you did not stop infiltrating his mind. his dreams, his thoughts. he'd wake up and see you, go to sleep and see you, during the day you be there before him.
but his morals. you were a pearl, a beautiful woman that deserved to stay pure forever. well that was what he kept telling himself, internal conflict. he was debating with himself each day.
he told himself to look away when you were near, think of anything else but his thoughts did not cooperate, rotating images of you with a stubborn thirst that could not be quenched.
it unsettled him, uncomfortable. he has never obsessed over something before. he has not had time to find love and be selfish, his family is his first priority. & now that he is olo'eyktan, he knows he must focus on his duties.
the argument that ran through him was trapped behind his ribs, surrounded his heart and dug into his blood flow. arteries tightened, his breathing short. but nothing could stop his mind from leaning towards you.
"his silence is frustrating," you mutter, picking at the fruit in your hands.
"what is wrong sister?," tsireya holds your hands, sitting before you with worrisome eyes.
you chew your lip, shaking your head.
"it's nothing," you sigh.
"we haven't been close recently, I've missed you," she huffs.
"I've missed you too,"
"have sempu (father) & sa'nok (mother) said anything about neteyam courting you?," she asks.
"they still don't talk to me tsireya," you sigh.
"I know...I know, I thought they would have said something to you at least,"
"well, they haven't,"
"I'm sure they will speak to you eventually,"
"you have been saying this for years now, there is no point sister. I am not fussed,"
"then what is bothering you?,"
you hesitate, the sound of footsteps stopping you from speaking.
"tsmuke? (sister)," ao'nung calls out.
"come in,"
he smiles when he sees both of his sisters together, making his way to sit beside you both. the sun is shining down into your mauri, the sounds of waves providing music.
"sister," he greets.
"you okay ao?," you rub his shoulder.
"it seems I've interrupted something serious,"
"do not worry brother," you smile, weakly.
"you've clearly got something on your mind y/n," he wraps his arm over your shoulders.
"your best friend, his silence is frustrating,"
"what has he done?," ao'nung purses his lips.
both your siblings look at you with wide eyes, listening.
"he has not spoken to me in days,"
"did something happen between you two?,' tsireya asks.
you think back to how warm his hands were on your skin, his breath causing you to shiver - the scent of mint leaves. his braids brushing over your shoulders, a comforting itch.
you don't realise the colour forming on your cheeks, your brother pulls a face of disgust.
"please do not tell me it was something disgusting, I do not wish to think of my tsawl tsmuke (big sister) in such ways." he shivers, pretending to gag.
you slap his chest playfully, grinning.
"do not think of me as such baby bro, nothing has happened. he has not spoken to me, he stands beside me in silence but at distance or he avoids me whilst we stand in the same room,"
ao'nung scowls.
"he is a sxawng," he mutters under his breath.
"do not be annoyed ao'nung," tsireya hums.
"I can't tell anymore, I do not know what courting even means, how am I meant to feel? am I meant to feel a certain way or did I miss the memo?," you grunt.
ao'nung grins.
"are you asking us how can you tell if you like neteyam?,"
embarrassment shines in your eyes, you look away, a shy smile on your lips.
"when you like someone, you should feel butterflies in your stomach when they are near, your chest will feel tight," tsireya smiles.
"your knees will feel weak, head light headed. & once you feel those things, they will consume every part of you, you cannot rid them even if you tried," ao'nung gazes into the distance, reflecting.
their words have you second guessing yourself, doubting the words you said to neteyam. you made a promise between each other, help you find a partner & then be off on your own ways. but now...you have come to realise, it won't be as easy as you think.
this was never meant to happen.
you were never meant to feel this type of way.
you gasp in shock, cold fingers pressing against your warm lips.
you have feelings for Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan.
neteyam could not have guessed he would fall this hard for you, he thought he could stop himself. but that side of him, one that wants to see you on your knees in front of him.
"bro, stop pacing!," lo'ak shouts in annoyance.
"sorry baby brother,"
"you're putting me on edge, what is wrong?"
neteyam sighs, crouching down.
"it's her isn't it?," lo'ak turns to face his brother.
neteyam only groans in response, rubbing his hand down his face.
"why did you put yourself in this situation, your feelings are too strong for her, aren't they bro?,"
neteyam nods, slow.
"I thought helping her would be the right thing, I did not realise this would happen,"
"then you're foolish, you can't believe that you weren't gonna' fall for her when you had some sort of feelings for her years ago bro,"
lo'ak's truth makes neteyam's skin crawl. he knows his brother is right, he should have never put himself in the middle of this shit. he should have just wished you well and stood beside his parents. but you're so interesting, everything about you is hypnotic.
"don't fuck this up bro,"
night has fallen, the people are singing and dancing with the tlalim clan (wind traders). they have taken rest in metkayina, trading and sharing stories with our people before they continue on their journey. the olo'eyktan's of the tlalim are good friends with your father, it is always a blessing from eywa when they are within your presence.
neteyam has not spoken to you although you stand close, the two of you are silent. neither of you make the first word, both equally as shy. you want him to say anything but you do not want to face your feelings for him.
it is when neteyam sees you talking with a tsamsiyu (warrior) of your clan that has him pulling you by your wrist, away from the people.
"neteyam! what's your issue!?" you scowl.
"stop pulling me!,"
your protests fall deaf on his ears.
"stop it!, let me go!,"
his blood is boiling, eyes seeing red, head pounding against his skull. he watched your entire interaction with the male.
your shy smile,
the giggle that escapes your lips,
your doe eyes as you look up at him whilst he speaks,
the way you tucked your hair behind your ear,
the tsamsiyu purposefully flexing his arms in your face,
his eyes that wandered all over you,
his loud cackle at clearly something humorous you had said.
neteyam is seething with jealousy, he could not watch you any longer.
your gentle strides across the people,
your long lashes fluttering as you greeted the people,
the flow of your hair brushing against men that gawked at you,
the people did not care, they clearly did not respect the fact he was courting you.
it was not apparent enough that you were being courted by an olo'eyktan.
his jaw almost snaps from hard he is clenching, he suddenly halts in his steps, letting go of your wrist.
"neteyam? hello? why aren't you saying anything?,"
he turns to face you.
his face is stuck in a expression of annoyance, anger.
he lifts you, fingers pressing down painfully on your skin.
"ow!, neteyam! let go of me!," you scream.
he throws you over his shoulder, landing a harsh spank on your behind. you yelp, kicking the air.
"put me down!,"
"neteyam, you prick!, let go of me!,"
"put me down!,"
neteyam, turn his head, your behind is right against his face. your tweng lifted, the outline of your folds has him inhaling against you.
you gasp, stopping your kicks.
"neteyam?"
he growls, leaving a bruising slap against your cheek, watching it jiggle.
"what is your issue?,"
"stop screaming." he states.
his voice is low and firm.
he places you down, standing in the maze of trees. he paces before you, hands pressed against each other, against his lips.
"neteyam?," you whisper.
his rage is evident, the twitch in his ears is harsh, tail whipping against the ground.
metkayina's pearl. who would've known she would rile up the olo'eyktan of the omatikaya this much.
"do not entertain that tsamsiyu (warrior),"
"what?"
"you are speaking to men of the wrong morals y/n,"
"and you think that dragging me, throwing me over your shoulder is the right thing?"
he shakes his head.
"do you enjoy gaining the attention of others? do you like it when even the men who only want one thing from you approach you?,"
his questions have you breathing sharply.
"do not question what I do after you do not speak to me the way the do, you have no right to be mad,"
"I am not mad,"
"you are fuming neteyam, it is evident." you roll your eyes.
"did you just roll your eyes at me?,"
for some reason, guilt heats your body. it as if you wear the shame when your father catches you doing something you should not be doing.
"yes," you whisper.
his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, jaw clenched. his eagle like eyes bore into you. shaking his head.
the battle in his head is loud. the scent of you so close to his face has him drunk.
"y/n,"
"neteyam,"
seconds pass in silence, eyes trained onto one another.
he takes one step forward,
you do not hold yourself back.
neteyam lifts you as you clash into him, wrapping your legs arounds his waist. he smashes his lips against yours, teeth biting at each other's lips. you moan in his hold, struggling to breathe as he attacks you with his mouth.
it is desperation, the days of frustration pooling from each kiss. his lips are plump, wetness shared. you swallow his saliva that is passed from his tongue, the taste has you in a frenzy. you want more.
the kisses are sharp and unyielding, fighting for dominance via your tongues. it is a challenge that you accept, teeth grazing, breath stolen the pressure had was intense - making your pulse jump.
your moans mixed together, he pulled back. his eyes held a warning in them, a question.
if we continue this, there is no going back.
you answer him with a peck on his lips.
there is no going back.
he grins against your lips, holding you tighter. the kisses are promises, wanting to show you far he was willing to go.
he wastes no time, putting you down. he attacks your neck, biting down as he pulls your breast free. squeezing the fullness, rubbing the sensitive bud. his rough hands against your soft skin, driving you insane.
his fingers reach into your tweng, your wetness welcomes him in. neteyam groans against your lips, puffing air.
"fuck, you're soaking."
you moan in response, digging your nails into his skin. he rubs, the feeling so different to your fingers. his touch warms your skin, warmth pooling low in your belly.
you feel alive, seen, touched in every crevice of your body.
"neteyam," you whimper.
"you feel so good ma'"
you grin, shy. the moon light shines against both your glowing skin, the contrast in shades, calm intertwining with depth.
"what the fuck!?,"
both your faces drop in horror, looking over, your brother stands, shaking. his fists curled, eyes dangerous. if smoke was visible from him it would be coming out of his ears.
neteyam lets go of you, ao'nung runs at him, growling.
"what the fuck are you doing!?," ao'nung roars.
he lands a blow on neteyam, he does not fight back.
"AO'NUNG!," you scream.
he ignores you, dropping neteyam to the ground. he jumps on top of him, throwing rough punches at the olo'eyktan below him.
"AO'NUNG!,"
your fathers booming voice has you dropping to your knees, ao'nung stopping his blows.
the ground shakes underneath your fathers steps, pulling his son off neteyam.
ao'nung entire body shakes, hands spasming. your father does not punish his son, he pulls him away, watching his vibrating figure.
"olo'eyktan," your father helps neteyam up.
"son!,"
neteyam's dad runs over, holding his son to the side.
you pick your nails, tsireya brushes her fingers through your hair. you wait outside the olo'eyktan's mauri pod, neteyam, ao, toruk makto and your father are inside.
you sit with your sister, mother, lo'ak and the rest of the sullys. anxiety runs your skin cold, knee bobbing up and down at pace.
"what happened?," tsireya whispers.
you shake your head, eyes glossy with tears.
your mother argues with neteyam's mother, hissing.
"your son has clearly done something!" your mother spits.
"do not accuse my son of anything!," neytiri hisses.
you head snaps up as they all come out from inside. looking directly at neteyam, he hangs his head low. you try to hold down the tears that escape you.
"you two will wed," tonowari states.
pin drop silence.
"i do not know of the argument between yourself and neteyam, daughter. but ao'nung has said it was a lovers quarrel, to ease the tension. I have agreed, with the blessing of eywa, you will mate before the Great Mother,"
you stand in shock, your father bears a soft smile. for once he looks at your with kindness in his eyes, he does not wear the stoic expression.
you cross over to ao'nung, the anger still washes off him but instead, he also wears a smile.
every single male before you is smiling except neteyam. he stands with his shoulders dropped, a grin creeping.
"we welcome you to our family, y/n te Tsika'u Ronal'ite,"
the sully's celebrate, hugging the both of you. your sister's soft cries have you clutching onto her. lo'ak pulls you into a tight hug, whispering words of reassurance in your ear.
"big sis," he grins, teasing.
your mother presses a kiss against your head as she holds you close, uncontrollable sobs leave you. her touch has been distant for years, she has not held you.
your sat with your brother and neteyam, both of you waiting for him to speak.
"there was no point of me telling father what I had seen,"
"ao, i'm so sorry,"
"don't apologise when it isn't your fault sister, clearly my friend here could not control his urges,"
neteyam sighs.
"neteyam had already asked to marry you weeks ago sister,"
you still.
"w-what?," you stutter.
"it seems he did not tell you,"
neteyam kneels before tonowari, ao'nung stood to the side with lo'ak.
"you wish to marry my daughter?,"
"yes,"
"nga new tsonta muntxa si? (you want to mate?)"
"yes,"
"hm..."
neteyam gulps.
"stand up, you are the olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya."
neteyam stands, crossing his arms behind him. his heartbeat is loud in his ears, worry nipping at him.
"nga lu am'ake nga tsun ease 'ite tirengop (you be sure you are able to ease my daughter's life)?,"
"oe lu am'ake (i am sure),"
"you are the son of Toruk Makto, the olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya, you are one with the forest. my 'ite (daughter) is the pearl of my people, she is of water. she will struggle with your traditions..."
tonowari cannot stop the thoughts of his daughter struggling fill his mind.
"I will care for her greatly, po lu my ya (she be my air),"
lo'ak's lips are swollen as he bites them, eyes flicking from tonowari to his brother. their father enters the room, seating himself as he watches his son.
"my 'ite (daughter) is complex, she is...mighty with her emotions, one of the figures for the people,"
"she is my complexity, she will be mighty with my people,"
"tell me, olo'eyktan. do you plan on making her Tsahìk?"
neteyam nods, shoulders easing with the change in tonowari's words.
"she will naturally enter that position,"
"hm...and does she know of your interest?,"
neteyam gulps down the ache in his throat.
"it has been difficult,"
"you are courting her,"
"I am, it has been very real for me. but to your daughter, she is...this arrangement. we have not shared our feelings," neteyam struggles.
"I see,"
"I am coming to you before the time comes again in the future, my intention is clear sir,"
tonowari grins, nodding his head.
"then so it be, eywa tìng syawn nga mune (eywa bless you two), i trust you will help my daughter express herself, bring the truth to her soon, son. this will be difficult, she is a strong character."
fat tears roll down your face, hot. your cheeks are burning, bottom lip quivering.
acceptance is what makes your chest swell, being chosen. no man has done this, said this, gone to your father to ask for you. no man has been comitted to keeping you around once they actually get to know you. they do not see you for who you are, declining every single man because they do not give you the feeling you've been looking for.
the feeling that neteyam has given you, shown you.
neteyam already chose you from the moment he seperated from you, he did not regret going to your father the moment he agreed to court you. he was anxious, split into two. his urges, he did not want to be the same as all the men that surround you.
"you are a lucky man my friend," ao'nung smiles.
neteyam cannot stop himself from placing his hand over yours. wiping your tears away.
"i am," neteyam whispers.
"ao," you sob.
"do not cry sister, you will make me emotional,"
you wrap your arms around ao'nung, his hands shake as he returns the hug.
"i will leave you two, i hope i never see you two like that again, i feel nauseous."
you press a chaste kiss against your brother's cheek, watching his shy face glow.
you and neteyam kneel before each other, finally alone.
"you did not tell me this was your plan,"
"i wanted you to recognise me yourself,"
you smile, holding his large hand in yours.
"I see you, neteyam."
neteyam's eyes widen, watching you.
all he's ever wanted was for you to see him, since the teenage years he wanted to be close to you the same way lo'ak was. he could not hold himself back from having you but he thought he was a sinner for the way he behaved. deep regret burned holes in his chest when your brother caught the two of you, he kept ruining you, taking away your purity.
neteyam is quick to bare you of your clothing, stripping you naked under the night sky. he moans, precum rolling down his cock.
you cover yourself under his gaze, hiding your parts.
"no, no, it's okay baby, let me see you," his voice gentle.
he kisses you all over, whispering words of affirmation in your ear, reminding you how beautiful you are.
neteyam is soft with every move, taking his time to explore each part of your body. he kisses every scar, licks every spot that has you shivering under him. he spreads your legs open for him, watching the droplets of your arousal trickle.
"you're dripping," he groans.
you watch him, nervous. neteyam's cock is rigid, hard and dripping with his precum. you're going to end up kill him. he brushes his nose down your frame, inhaling your sweet scent, paskalin. so addicting, he moans after each sharp inhale.
you giggle, holding his face between your hands.
"that tickles,"
he grins, flashing his canines.
he kisses your thighs, kissing the stretch marks that are etched into your skin. light moans escape you, neteyam stops his movements.
he looks at you, mind twisting with the thoughts he's tried to push away. he reminds himself of his morals but they do not stop the sinful thoughts.
corrupt you.
mould you.
mark you.
neteyam lets them consume him, closing his eyes. your doe eyes stare up at him, careful not to make a single sound.
"this will hurt y/n,"
"i want it to be painful," you confess.
neteyam's brow cocks, head lulling.
oh she wants me to fucking ruin her.
& so he does.
"open your mouth," he croaks.
you do as he says.
so obedient.
"stick your tongue out, yawne,"
your pink tongue is flat out for him, you watch with wide eyes as he gathers the spit in his mouth, swishing it before spitting it onto your tongue. you yelp.
"swallow it,"
your stomach churns with shame.
he laughs, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.
"swallow it baby, c'mon, don't wanna' upset your olo'eyktan do you?"
you shake your head, no, swallowing it.
"show me,"
his spit is hot, thick as it travels down your throat. it doesn't make you react the way you thought you would, your stomach twists with pleasure.
sticking your tongue out to show him, he grins.
"get on all fours baby,"
the exposed position has you trembling with anticipation, his hot breath on your bare pussy.
he pulls your folds apart, watching the strings of arousal between them.
"your pussy is swollen, you been touchin' yourself?" he slurs.
you squeak a yes.
"nasty girl. your pussy's puffy baby, did you make yourself cum multiple times?," he coos.
you nod, burrowing your face into your arm.
"aw baby, don't be shy. 'm proud of you, did it feel good?"
"uhuh," you squeak.
he laughs against your pussy, burrowing his nose between your folds, letting your scent intoxicate him. you smell sweet, natural, clean. neteyam places a kiss on your folds, you jolt in shock. the pleasure is nerve wrecking.
neteyam analyses you, your two holes so tight. he gathers his saliva once more and spits it on your tighter hole, watching it clench beneath the trickling spit.
you moan as his spit sinks between your folds, your greedy hole sucking it in. neteyam's eyes roll back. your poor pussy is just so tight, he wants to ruin you but you'll bleed all over his thick cock.
you whimper, nails digging into the earthy ground below you. your hips move back, desperate for his touch.
"want me to touch you?," he coos.
"yes please,"
"so sweet, of course my yawne,"
he flattens his long tongue, pressing it against your clit. your hips shake, a long moan elicit from you. the taste of your juices have neteyam seeing stars, cock twitching with need.
his tongue curls between your folds, drinking your juices. each gulp has him thirsting for more, needing to quench his thirst.
he laps at your throbbing pussy, puffy from making yourself cum multiple times the night before. the sensitivity still there, you squeal. neteyam wraps his mouth around your clit, sucking at it fast and rough.
your front half falls flat to the floor, legs spreading further against the rough ground. you tremble, arching.
neteyam hums against your clit, the vibrations making your eyes roll back. it doesn't take long for you to feel the build up of pressure in your stomach.
"n-teyam!," you squeal.
he hums in response.
"i feel, feel like i'm- feel strange!," you squeak.
neteyam can't stop the grin, teeth grazing against your clit, sending you over the edge. neteyam shoves his finger in your clenching hole as you cum, screaming his name.
"feel okay?,"
"yeah," you pant.
"you just came, baby, well done," he praises.
"that felt so weird,"
"should've felt the same way you felt making yourself cum, paskalin,"
you huff air.
"it doesn't,"
"come yawne, i will show you how much better it will feel,"
he lifts you onto his lap, holding you close. neteyam sucks at your sensitive tits, moaning.
"these fat tits," he growls.
lying you flat, he lifts your legs over his waist.
"sevin (pretty), this will hurt,"
you nod, watching his brows knit.
rubbing his tip between your folds, neteyam looks down. his cock is dark blue, tip purple with shiny white precum rolling. thick veins wrap around the girthy length, throbbing.
neteyam helps you pass through the burning stretch, rubbing your clit to provide stimulation as you clench around his girth. he sits so heavy and full inside you, tip curled to sit against your sensitive spot.
he's instant, pistoling, his cock is thick, rearranging your guts.
thwap! thwap! thwap!
his hips bruise you, hand wrapped around your neck. the warmth of your pussy, squelching below him, has his eyes rolling back.
shlick! shlick! shlick!
your stomach bulges with each thrust, your head lulling to the side, eyes white.
"fuck, look at that, see my cock in your belly,"
he grabs your hand, pressing it against the bulge. his rigid cock is hard inside you.
"harder teyam!," you scream.
he grins, lifting your legs, pushing them to either side of your head. he pushes himself all the way in you, bottoming out. his weight is heavy against you, the position has your muscles aching but the pleasure has your nerves buzzing.
"feel's good tey," you moan.
"si nga my sevin muntxate (make you my pretty wife),"
"f'ck me tey please, need it so bad," you whine.
his toes curl at your words, every single hair on his body lifting.
"yeah, you want me to fuck you?,"
"yes please,"
"always so kind,"
his thrusts moves your entire body, your hands scratching him.
"feel's full,"
"yeah?,"
"uhuh, so big!," you squeal.
neteyam's balls tighten, the coil in his belly snapping. he fills you, shaking as he paints thick white ropes of his cum in your womb.
but neteyam doesn't stop, the swishing sound of his cum inside you has him fucking you deeper, slower.
every inch of you feels like it's on fire, head spinning from his attacks.
that same pleasure in your belly has you shaking, clutching onto him.
"gonna- gonna cum, please tey, please." you scream.
"shh, shh i got you,"
"fuck!,"
"clenchin' me so tight, gonna milk me yawne," he growls.
"feel's different teyam, pressure!," you scream.
"huh, gonna squirt on my cock tiyawan?"
you squirt all over him, shaking, eyes rolled to the back of your skull.
neteyam laughs in shock, your juices coat his abs, neteyam pulls out, lowering himself. he gulps down your juice, moaning after each gulp.
you two are in sync, cumming and moaning at the same time. pushing yourselves past your limit, shaking in overstimulation.
you both don't realise the sounds close by.
"you have got to be fucking kidding me!,"
ao'nung's shouting pulls you out of your brainless mind, the two of you turning to face him in horror.
2087
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