ꕤ🎂 20. filo. scorpio. she/they. college student. bisexual. enfj. multifandom. adores pink if it wasn’t obvious. softkuna truther. ENG/TAG OK! if u spam like, spam reblog too <3
still alive 😌 uni still kicking my ass (its midterms) and im currently obsessed with avatar (jake + so’lek) so 😝
maybe . . fics of them . . HMMMM……
havent forgotten ab my other wips / ongoing series dw, no more deadlines/timelines or whatever on when im posting, its making me feel too guilty/pressured
🍓 pairing: jake sully x human fem reader x neytiri
🍓 tags: nsfw, best friend!jake, dilf jake cause i can't help myself, jealousy, allien cultural misunderstandings,size kink, alien genitalia, human x na'vi, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, threesomes
masterlist
reblogs are always enormously appreciated!
You have no idea how you’ve managed to get yourself into this position.
Well, that’s not strictly true. You suppose it all started with your best friend stuffing you full with his fingers until you had trembled apart in his arms.
You awake the morning after, loose-limbed and jelly-jointed with a sense of bone-deep satisfaction, naked limbs tangled with Jake’s big blue ones. He’s comically overlarge for your bed, his legs hanging off the edge of the mattress, and one of his big arms is looped lazily over your back.
You had expected things to be awkward afterwards, but when Jake finally stretches himself awake he just greets you with a yawn, slaps your ass, and asks if he’ll see you later on for dinner. When you agree he kisses the top of your head, wiggles his way back into his loincloth, and gives you a cheeky wink before sauntering out to return to the village.
You’re left bewildered and alone in your room. Truthfully, part of you had expected him to freak out a little over awaking naked in your bed after indulging in inappropriate activities with you the night before; maybe panic and call it all a crazy mistake. You certainly hadn’t expected him to act as though waking up with you naked in his arms was the most natural thing in the world.
You spend the day alternating between overthinking and relishing the memories of Jake’s hands on you. Good god, had you been missing out on that all along? He had seemed so casual about it all, as though it was simply a given that he would finger you to climax if that’s what you wanted.
You have to take a cold shower shortly after Jake leaves, partly to calm yourself down and partly to wash off the scent of Jake that still clings to you. If your dull human nose can pick up on it, you can only imagine that you must stink to a Na’vi, so you make sure to scrub at yourself with your berry-scented shower gel until you smell of nothing but artificial human soap.
You’re still a little nervous when you wander into the village later that day, but you’re greeted as enthusiastically as ever by the whole Sully family. Jake ruffles your hair and winks at you before clapping Neteyam on the shoulder and leading him off towards the cookfire to gather meat for the family.
You’re left with Kiri and Lo’ak, and you can’t help but smile as the kids start to shepherd you towards the usual spot where you all usually take meals.
“– and then Lo’ak fell all the way down and landed flat on his back,” Kiri is telling you a story with great relish, walking close to you. “And all the girls he had been trying to impress thought it was so funny–”
“It was on purpose.” Lo’ak blusters, picking up the pace so that he can come up on your other side and interject. “I was trying to make them laugh–”
“Oh yeah? Did you mean to burst into tears too–?”
“Shut up!” Lo’ak hisses at his sister, but it comes out as more of a whine. “I did not burst into tears!”
The familiar sound of their bickering soothes away the last of your nerves. Your shoulders loosen, and you start to smile as you follow the kids towards their usual spot for dinner. Neytiri is already sitting there with Tuk, brushing back her youngest daughter’s hair and murmuring softly to her.
Your stomach clenches at the sight of her; you have no idea how she’s going to react to you, and you have no idea how you should act around her. You’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Jake pleasuring you like that had been her idea, and you feel yourself start to sweat at the thought that she might act differently around you now.
As Kiri and Lo’ak approach the log where their mother is sitting, she looks up and smiles when she sees them. She really is very beautiful; her amber eyes are bright, the skin at the corner of her eyes crinkling up with joy at the sight of her children. She’s graceful even when she’s sitting down, her long limbs corded with lithe muscle as she stretches out next to Tuk.
Just the sight of her makes you feel clumsy and ungainly, and you feel your cheeks heat as you approach.
Her eyes flick from her kids to you where you’re following behind them, and you tense a little as you wait for her reaction. To your surprise, her face doesn’t contort into an expression of disgust like you had been expecting – her smile gets smaller, almost knowing, but no less genuine as you come to a halt by the log she’s sitting on.
Lo’ak and Kiri are still bickering as they flop down on a log next to their mother’s, but Neytiri is still looking at you. Her eyes flicker from your head to your toes rapidly, as though checking you for injuries.
You’re wearing the Na’vi clothes that have been gifted to you again today, and you shift a little self-consciously under her gaze. You feel more exposed than ever, and you’re hyper-aware of the subtle bruising around your tits from Jake’s teeth; you just pray that they’re not obvious to anyone else.
Neytiri reaches out to you, and you blink in bewilderment as she grabs at a string of broken beads on your top that you hadn’t even noticed before now. She peers at it critically, before looking up to your face with a small frown. For a moment you wonder if she’s angry at you, and feel your stomach sink rapidly until she speaks.
“He was gentle?” She asks quietly, and you twitch when her palm grazes the side of your breast. “He forgets himself, sometimes, and you are very weak.”
“I–” Your tongue feels too large in your mouth. You stumble over your words clumsily; your whole world has narrowed down to that one, confusing point of contact between Neytiri’s hand and the underside of your tit as she studies the broken string of beads. “He was– it was good.”
Neytiri hums, and you swear her mouth twitches as though she’s holding back a laugh. “You should have asked for it earlier. You know we would not have left you feeling neglected.”
You make an odd noise in the back of your throat, mortified. You dart a panicked look towards the kids, but Tuk has wandered over to Lo’ak and Kiri and they’re all laughing together a few feet away, blissfully ignorant of your conversation.
“I– I didn’t–”
Neytiri chooses to ignore your fumbling, instead leaning down closer to your chest so that she can tie the snapped string of your top. The back of her hand brushes over your nipple and you tremble, confused as warmth blooms in your lower belly.
“You have needs that must be met,” Neytiri murmurs, her voice low enough that it’s just for you. “You do not need to look elsewhere to have them maintained.”
Your heart leaps and your stomach flutters, and you hurriedly lower your gaze. This is far from the reaction you had expected from her, and it makes you nervous.
Stop it, you think furiously to yourself. They’re your friends! They’re married!
“Right.” You choke out, cheeks burning. “I– um… thanks.”
She nods, but then pauses. Her face is hovering close to your chest so that she can look closely at the snapped string of beads on your top, but she leans even closer as her nostrils flare. A small frown creases her brow, and her pretty golden eyes snap up to look at you. She’s so intense, and being caught up in her gaze like this has you feeling like a fly trapped in amber.
“You have used the demon soap.” She notes, still frowning.
One of her knuckles brush over your nipple as she fiddles with mending your top, and you end up jolting at the sensation as blood rushes to your face. You can only pray that she didn’t notice your reaction.
“Oh, yeah.” You choke out a reedy laugh. You know that the Na’vi don’t like the artificial, acrid smell of human soap, but you had figured it was the best way to get the scent of your activities from the night before off you. “I, uh… I reeked of Jake. Thought it would be best to wash it off before, um… coming back to the village.”
Neytiri hums with a frown, and with one last deft movement of her fingers, the broken tie on your top has been temporarily mended. However her hands linger somewhat strangely, and when she withdraws from you her wrist ends up rubbing a little oddly over the side of your neck. You have no idea what’s going on, and you have no idea how you should be reacting.
All you can do is swallow thickly, your throat bobbing against the warm skin of Neytiri’s wrist before she pulls away from you.
“It is good that Jake pleased you,” She says simply, turning her head to look casually towards the fire. When you follow her gaze, you see that Jake and Neteyam are returning from the cookfire with their hands full of food. “I worried that he would not.”
That makes you choke out a surprised laugh. “Wow. No faith in his abilities, huh?”
“It is not that,” Neytiri hums, though you can see the corner of her mouth curl in a repressed smile. “He was watching you all evening, getting worked up. I thought he may not be able to last long enough to satisfy you fully.”
That makes you laugh properly, surprised enough that you’re not able to hide your delight at hearing Neytiri roasting Jake. Your conversations with Neytiri alone don’t often poke fun at Jake, and you feel oddly thrilled by it. She offers you a small smirking smile, and you bite at your lip shyly as you return it.
You’re still stifling laughter when Jake and Neteyam reach you all again; Jake steps over to you and Neytiri as Neteyam carries his food over to the other kids.
“Hey, what’re my girls giggling about?” Jake drawls, sitting heavily next to you on the log. He’s holding several nikt'chey filled with sweet meat and vegetables in one large hand, and a little wooden carved bowl full of teylu in the other.
Neytiri grabs at a plant-based nikt'chey, but instead of eating it she passes it to you. You smile, flattered; teylu is an important food for the Na’vi, but you’ve never enjoyed the texture of the little grub worms. You’ve spent so many years sharing meals with the Sully’s, but it still surprises you when she shows that she’s noticed your preferences.
“I was asking about your performance,” Neytiri says casually, her expression growing coy. “Tawtute believes you could have been better.”
If that pricks at Jake’s pride, he doesn’t show it. He just laughs as though Neytiri has told a very funny joke, before he turns to you. He wraps an arm around your waist and hauls you up into his lap, still clutching his food in the other hand – the motion is so familiar for the both of you that he’s able to situate you across his thighs with ease, even one-handed.
Jake has been pulling you into his lap at mealtimes for a long time now, and yet this time feels different. His hand lingers around your waist, coasts briefly over your thigh. He’s always been touchy, but this time your brain keeps offering up memories from the night before; his big hot hands touching you, his mouth devouring you, his low voice murmuring insistently in your ear.
Your face burns, but you’re determined not to show it. You don’t want to be the one to make this weird.
“Now I know that’s a lie,” Jake croons, his breath warm on the back of your ear as he leans towards Neytiri. “You should have heard her cry–”
“Oh my god,” You hiss, whirling in Jake’s lap to slap at his chest hard enough that your hand stings. “I did not cry, you unbearable jackass–”
“It is normal to be overwhelmed by pleasure after so long of…” Neytiri pauses, her brow pinching just slightly as though she’s trying to remember specific phrasing that she’s heard before. “‘Not getting any.’”
Your jaw actually drops. The sound of the human phrase dropping from her lips is jarring, even more so when you know that it’s Jake she heard it from.
“Oh, you guys are the worst.” You grumble, curling into yourself in mortification.
The two of them snicker together as you scowl, and Jake pats your flank as though trying to calm an irritated cat. Neytiri, at least, bites at her lip and tries to hide her amusement.
“No shame in it, honey,” Jake says, and you can hear the stupid grin in his voice. “I’m just very good.”
You roll your eyes so hard that it almost makes you dizzy, and when you glance to the side you see that Neytiri has a similar expression on her face; this time, it’s your turn to laugh with her, with Jake as the subject of your snickering.
“Do not get too confident, ma Jake,” Neytiri croons, leaning in so that she’s resting her body against his side. “You have only pleasured her once, and it cannot have been that good – she has not said much about it.”
Jake makes a sound of pure offense even as he wraps the arm that’s not holding you around Neytiri’s shoulders. “What? Nah, she loved it. C’mon, honey, help me out here.”
Neytiri’s eyes slide to you as she takes a dainty bite of her food, and you can see the conspiratorial little smile that she’s trying to hide. Your own lips start to twitch in response, and you hide your own reaction behind your nikt'chey.
“Oh,” You say lightly, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. “He was okay.”
Instead of wounding his pride, your ribbing just makes him laugh. His arm tightens around your belly, holding you close to his chest as he ruffles Neytiri’s hair – she hisses playfully at him, though he just grins at her.
“Oh, you asshole,” He murmurs into your ear, his chest rumbling against your back as his bulk looms over you, “What, I wasn’t nice enough to you? I wouldn’t have known it from all the whimpering.”
Blood rushes to your face, and you barely suppress the urge to hide your face completely in your hands. You hold the nikt'chey up in front of your masked face in an attempt to hide, mortified when Neytiri chuckles softly.
“Alright,” She says, reaching out to pat at your thigh with her large, slender hand. “Enough. Tawtute is embarrassed.”
Jake just snickers, but mercifully gives up on his playful bantering in favour of taking a large bite of his own nikt'chey. His hand stays firmly planted across your middle, large thumb stroking over your exposed skin there every couple of moments. His touchiness isn’t anything new, but your skin is hot and sensitive and you have to fight back shivers every time he caresses your bare skin. Your stomach is alive with butterflies, shy arousal simmering at a low boil deep in your belly.
You’re antsy, and it’s only made worse by the fact that Neytiri still hasn’t removed her hand from your thigh. It just lingers there as she leans into Jake’s side, as though it’s just perfectly natural and comfortable for her to allow her touch to idle around the exposed skin of your thigh.
You wonder distantly if you’re reading too much into this. Jake has always been touchy, and it’s not that unusual that Neytiri has left her large, soft palm resting against the expanse of your thigh with her fingers curling absently around the sensitive skin of your inner knee.
Sure, it might feel as though you’re boiling up a little on the inside from the overwhelming contact of their big hands on your exposed body, but you push your reaction down the best you can. Maybe you’re just super conscious now that the nature of your relationship has changed. It seems like you’re the only one that feels that shift though, because Jake and Neytiri are so casual about the way they’re touching you, as though nothing has changed at all.
You’re so busy trying to appear calm and measured and entirely unaffected that you hardly notice when Jake pauses his eating to turn his face towards you with a curious frown. He sniffs at you once, twice, before glancing towards Neytiri and raising an eyebrow with a barely stifled smirk.
She just blinks back at him innocently, though there’s an unmistakable look of mischief about her eyes – whatever they’re communicating about silently, Jake seems to find it amusing.
The interaction flies mostly over your head, too distracted with the way Jake’s thigh flexes beneath you when he shifts on the log and the way Neytiri has started to draw absent-minded little patterns around your kneecap. While Jake has always been clingy, Neytiri has always been more reserved in herself. Now, with her touching you like this, you feel absolutely thrown. It’s like someone has turned on a white noise machine in your head; all you can hear is static.
“Sa’nu,” Tuk warbles from a few feet away. “Lo’ak is being mean to me.”
“I am not! Tuk, stop being such a snitch–”
Neytiri’s eyes turn sharp, and she whirls to glare at her children. “What is happening over there?”
Jake rests his chin on your shoulder as he allows his wife to take the lead on dealing with the children. It’s comfortable, and you allow yourself to melt back into his embrace, like usual. Everything feels so normal, as though last night was just a fever dream.
As Neytiri scolds the children, Jake turns his face so that his flat, cat-like nose is nuzzling into your temple. It’s almost like he’s heard your thoughts and wants to brush them away.
“You okay?” Jake murmurs in your ear. “Last night wasn’t too much?”
You laugh a little wheezily. “No, it– no. It was… it was great. I was only joking, before.”
“Yeah, I know.” He snorts, “You’ve never been a good liar, anyway.”
“Fuck off,” You grumble, wriggling on his lap and nudging your elbow back into his stomach. He groans, but you can tell he’s exaggerating the amount of pain he’s in. “Your dick isn’t nearly as big as your head is, you know that?”
Jake lets out a startled, full-belly laugh at that, his head tilting back as his arm tightens around your middle. He seems to find that very amusing, and he’s still snickering when he leans in to press a kiss to your temple under the strap of your mask.
Your stomach trembles a little, and you can’t help yourself from leaning back into the warmth of his chest – Jake has always expressed his affection physically, satisfying your own desperate skin hunger, but now that you’ve experienced his touch more intimately you find yourself craving more in a way that’s beginning to freak you out a little. You’ve never really thought about Jake like this before, and you can’t help but feel guilty.
After all, you’re the one who’s looking at him differently now – as far as you’re aware, nothing has changed for Jake. Though he seems very flirty, that’s the way he always is! The only reason he had touched you like that last night was because he wanted to help you out.
Neytiri turns back from the children after giving them one last warning glare, shuffling a little closer and tilting her head so she’s peering down at you. Her hand is still on your knee; it hadn’t shifted an inch even when she had turned to hiss at the children, and now she squeezes at it a little to get your attention.
“What is funny?” She wonders.
You clear your throat, a little flustered, and mutter, “Your husband is a moron.”
Neytiri’s lips twitch, and she darts an amused look over your head at Jake as his head looms over your shoulder.
“Yes,” She agrees. “He is a skxawng.”
“Alright, alright,” Jake says hastily, adjusting you on his lap so that you’re pulled right back against his chest, “No ganging up on me, thanks. Besides, I know you both love me.”
Neytiri makes eye contact with you, then gives you a conspiratorial little eye roll. You giggle, impossibly pleased with the sense of camaraderie between the two of you. You even push your knee a little further into her hand, enjoying the contact.
“Will there be more dancing later?” You wonder, turning to look back at Neytiri with a smile. You remember the wondrous dancing from the night before, and find yourself hoping to catch a glimpse of the mating season dancing once more.
Neytiri hesitates, her head tilting to the side like she’s confused. “You are very interested in mating season,” She says slowly. “Even still.” She turns and gives Jake a strange look – one that’s almost chiding.
You’re not sure you know what she means, so you just shrug. “The dancing was pretty. I enjoyed watching it.”
Neytiri hums thoughtfully, her mouth twitching. Her chiding expression turns playful, and she leans in to murmur to you, “We will dance for you later, if you wish to see it.”
You almost do a double take at that, eyes growing wide as you choke on your own saliva in surprise. Behind you, Jake laughs at your reaction, his fingers stroking absently over the soft skin of your belly. It takes a moment for you to register that Neytiri must have been joking, and then you laugh nervously, unsure how to respond.
Jake just snickers, and leans over to nudge at Neytiri’s shoulder. You’re still not used to how beautiful Jake and Neytiri are, how perfectly matched. They ebb and flow against each other, always communicating with just looks or gestures. Jake has always been pure raw passion, while Neytiri is more intimate and reserved about her emotions. They compliment each other so well, something you’ve always admired about them.
You’ve always thought that you would love to find something like that for yourself, but now it’s like your thoughts have taken a turn. Now it’s like you’re looking at them and wanting them; it feels as though your brain is rotting from the inside out.
The village is bustling full of life, the smell of sweet meat sizzling and the sounds of the People laughing and children squealing filling the air for dinnertime. You force yourself to relax in Jake’s arms, trying to act casual in the face of his and Neytiri’s teasing – fucking your friend was one thing, but now you find yourself utterly flustered at the thought of him and his wife dancing for you, of thinking about where things might go from there.
It’s a mercy when Lo’ak shuffles over, his presence promptly putting an end to any suggestive conversation. You’re almost desperately grateful; you don’t think you’d be able to survive much more of their teasing.
Lo’ak is quiet when he settles next to Jake, a little moody. It seems that he’s come over less because he actually wants to talk to his parents, and more because he’s trying to escape Kiri, who is still teasing him over whatever embarrassing mistake he had made while training.
Undeterred by Lo’ak’s scowl, you lean over and give him a little smile. You’ve always had a soft spot for Lo’ak – you love all the Sully kids, of course, but Lo’ak has always been your secret little favourite. The kid is funny, so like Jake, and so starved for recognition in a way that you recognise from yourself. When you reach out to pat his head, he leans into your touch with a little pout.
“Are they bullying you?” You ask teasingly, brushing his braids back in an attempt to neaten them.
Lo’ak just scowls even fiercer, but he doesn’t move away from your hand. “Kiri’s being an asshole.”
“Hey!” Jake says sharply. “Don’t talk like that about your sister.”
You offer Lo’ak a sympathetic little smile, before leaning over to whisper, “Are you still upset about falling out of that tree?”
Lo’ak’s ears pin back as he winces, clearly embarrassed. “I didn’t fall. I slipped.”
“Ah,” You murmur, fighting a smile. “Of course. Completely different.”
From there, the evening mellows into a familiar, laid-back atmosphere that you’re familiar with. Spending time with the Sullys like this has always been easy, and you find yourself almost deliriously relieved that nothing has changed. You had been so anxious that sleeping with Jake would have totally ruined the dynamic between you and the whole family.
To tell the truth, you’re not quite sure what to make of the fact that it hasn’t.
You sit sprawled across Jake’s lap all evening, with one of Neytiri’s hands settled over your knee. Jake is always pulling you across his large striped thighs, supporting you with a massive arm around your back, but this somehow feels even more intimate than usual; or maybe it’s all in your head.
You try not to think too hard about it. After everyone has finished eating, the children all come to gather around Jake as he tells stories. Both you and Neytiri exchange eyerolls frequently – Jake is predictable, and always chooses the same tales to tell.
“—Your mother tried to kill me when we first met. She thought I was a moron, but I thought she was beautiful.”
Tuk looks absolutely enchanted by the story, despite having heard it a hundred times. Even Kiri, at the peak of her teenage angst, is listening with a little smile on her face.
Neytiri snorts, but she’s smiling too. “I still think you are a moron, yawntu.”
The kids laugh, and you hide a smile of your own. You feel at home here, with Jake’s family like this. That usual sense of pervasive loneliness that usually haunts you is entirely absent, chased away by Jake and Neytiri’s warm touches.
“What about um’ma?” Tuk asks, shifting closer with a bright smile on her face as she turns her attention towards you. “Tell us about how you met um’ma, dad!”
You had been getting sleepy, but her question wakes you right up. The kids have always called you um’ma, for as long as you can remember. It’s like an affectionate name for mom, as far as you’re aware. You’ve always sort of assumed that it’s somewhat teasing. You know it’s not entirely unusual for Na’vi children to refer to older female figures in affectionate terms like that – the school children had called Grace sa’nok, a much more formal name.
“Oh, god,” You breathe with a little wince. “No, that’s not–”
But it’s too late. Jake is only delighted to tell that story, too.
“The first time we met, your um’ma walked right past me.” Jake says, launching into his story before you can stop him. “I was trying to catch her attention, and she didn’t even look at me once.”
“I didn’t see you–!” You attempt to protest, but Jake steamrolls ahead.
“I was in my wheelchair, so I was shorter than her–”
“Shorter than um’ma?” Tuk whispers in what sounds like bewilderment, her big eyes swinging towards you as if she wants to double-check your height.
“–and she didn’t see me when she turned around, so she actually elbowed me in the face when I tried to get closer to her to talk to her. Gave me a bloody nose and everything.”
To your horror, the kids are acting as if they’re already heard this before. Neteyam is nodding along with Jake, and Lo’ak is already snickering. Tuk looks as enchanted with this story as she did with Jake’s story about meeting their mother, starry-eyed as she leans on Kiri. Your stomach flips – how often has Jake told them this story?
“I was trying to impress her, and she didn’t even look at me once.” Jake is still laughing, leaning forward over your shoulder so he can see his kids properly. “So you can imagine how embarrassed I was, after the pretty girl I had been trying to chat up completely ignores me and then nearly breaks my goddamn nose–”
You blink, startled. What?
Jake has teased you about your first meeting several times over the years, always delighting in the fact that you had been so awkwardly clumsy, but you had never actually heard him recount the full thing from start to finish before. You had certainly never heard it told like that before.
“You were flirting with me?” You blurt out. For a moment you’re worried that you had misinterpreted what he meant and that he might laugh at you, but no such thing happens.
Instead, Jake tips his head back and lets out a groaned little sigh. “Oh, come on. You didn’t even notice?”
Lo’ak looks delighted with this news, and nudges at Neteyam. “Dude! Dad has no game!”
Jake shoots Lo’ak an irritated sort of look, his pride clearly somewhat stung, but his youngest son doesn’t even seem to notice. Lo’ak seems to be too busy reveling in the fact that his father isn’t as smooth as he thought; in fact, he looks far too pleased about this little revelation.
“I have loads of game.” Jake argues, turning to the rest of his family as though seeking backup. Neytiri looks down, visibly hiding a smirk, and says nothing at all. “Your um’ma is just a difficult woman to impress.”
You’re still gawking at him, bewildered by the turn of the conversation. You’ve been friends with Jake for a long time, and he’s always been playfully flirty – that’s just his character. He makes cheeky jokes, he’s touchy, he calls you teasing nicknames, he gives you affectionate little kisses. That’s just Jake! He’s always been like this! And yet right now, he sounds as though he’s being serious about his flirting.
You look at Neytiri, still a little bewildered, but she has a wry sort of smile on her face as Jake defends himself. And that confuses you even more. Her hand is still on your thigh, her fingers stroking absently over the soft skin there. The caress is sure and unhurried; it’s a kind of patience possessed by predators who are sure of their prey. You’ve never experienced a touch like this from Neytiri before. Your skin is a little too tight, your breaths a little too shallow.
You feel like you’re losing your mind. It’s almost a relief when you’re interrupted, although you hardly even notice Ola’netu’s approaching figure until he’s stopped only a few feet from where you’re all sitting.
It’s Neytiri that notices him first, as evidenced by the way her hand tightens around your thigh, but you soon feel Jake tense beneath you as well.
“Olo’eyktan,” Ola’netu greets, his head dipping as he greets Jake with the traditional greeting gesture. “I see you.”
Jake’s hands flex at your hips, but he offers Ola’netu a stiffly polite smile all the same. Foregoing any greeting of his own, Jake simply says, “What can I do for you?”
Ola’netu straightens, and his big golden eyes land squarely on you. It’s unnerving to be on the receiving end of his sharp gaze, and you swallow nervously as your cheeks flare red. It’s… a surprisingly bold move on his part, approaching you like this when you’re having dinner with the Sully’s. Jake has always been a little overprotective of you, on account of you being so much smaller and more fragile, and right now his brow is drawing into a scowl that’s honestly intimidating.
“I wish to speak to tawtute.” Ola’netu says. Though his tone is perfectly polite, the fact that he’s not actually looking at Jake is clearly making your friend antsy; he shifts under you, adjusting you on his lap, and holds you tight.
The silence that follows is awkward. You had been so blown away by the exciting strangeness of having messed around with Jake, and then the way that Neytiri had been caressing you, that you had forgotten about Ola’netu entirely.
At your side, Lo’ak straightens up from where he had been slouching lazily. He’s got a little frown on his face, though he’s clearly a little confused, and he looks so much like Jake in that moment that it’s a little bewildering. He leans in a bit closer to you where you’re sitting on Jake’s lap, and all of a sudden it’s like you have two Sully guard dogs with their ears pricked up.
“Yeah,” You say, suddenly awkward. “Right, of course.”
It’s a bit of a struggle to get out of Jake’s lap. Not only do you have his hands holding onto your waist, but Neytiri is holding your thigh and Lo’ak keeps shuffling closer into your space. You actually have to practically worm your way out of their grip, before you stand in front of them all panting with the effort. You scowl a little at Jake, and he purses his lips in that way he does when he’s annoyed about something before he offers you a quick shrug.
Ola’netu leads you a couple of steps away from the family, before stopping just out of earshot and turning to you with a smile. He even bends down so that he’s at eye level with you. The village is bustling full of life, and the sounds of the People laughing and children squealing fill the air. Despite the hive of activity around you, you’re hyper aware of the stares of the entire Sully family burning into your back.
Ola’netu must notice the fact that the two of you are being watched closely, but he gives no indication of it. “I am pleased to see you here. Can I get you food?”
“Oh,” You get a little flustered at his offer, trying hard not to look over your shoulder at the Sullys. “Um… I’ve already eaten.”
Ola’netu glances over your shoulder, presumably looking at Jake, before his eyes fall back to your face. It’s a little difficult to read him; there’s a friendly little smile on his face, but there’s a small furrow in his brow that suggests he’s confused.
“Jakesully watches you closely.” He notes, his tone careful. “He is… always looking.”
“Oh, he’s a little protective.” You laugh nervously. “Don’t mind him.”
Ola’netu’s eyes linger on your face a moment. There’s a beat of silence as nostrils flare; you’ve seen Jake do this often enough to realise that he’s scenting you. It’s an embarrassing thought, made even worse when his brows furrow.
“Ah.” He says after a moment, his head tilting a little. He looks confused, as though he doesn’t quite know what to make of you. “He has scent-marked you. Neytiri too.”
Your hand flies up to hold your neck. “They what?”
Ola’netu hums, and reaches out to brush his fingers over the spot where Neytiri’s wrist had brushed earlier. Had that been an accident? Surely she would never have done such a thing on purpose.
He’s still watching your face closely. “I do not want to… misunderstand. You always smell of Jakesully but… they have not yet claimed you?”
You nearly do a double take. Claimed you? You don’t even know how to begin unpacking that. You wonder if there’s some sort of cultural nuance that you’re missing here. Your fluency in the Na’vi language is advanced, but even still you sometimes mistranslate or misunderstand things.
“Jake is my best friend.” You say with an awkward smile, hoping that answers his question.
You think of the way Jake had stuffed your pussy full with his fingers the night before, and the way Neytiri had been so subtly brushing her fingers over your tits earlier that evening, and you wonder how on earth to explain your relationship with them. Not even you fully understand it. They’re your friends, but even you have to admit that it often feels like… more than that. They feel like home in a way that the human outpost never has, and yet you have to admit that the dynamic feels a little different now.
“They look after me.” You continue stupidly. It’s the only way you can think of to explain.
Ola’netu looks thoughtful, but he nods slowly. “I see. But they have not…”
As Ola’netu trails off, his brow furrows in a contemplative frown. It seems as though he’s thinking about his next words very carefully.
You dart a quick glance over your shoulder. It’s not much of a surprise to find Jake and Neytiri watching you closely (just like they had the last time Ola’netu had approached you), but it is somewhat of a surprise to see that the kids are all watching you with hawk-like eyes as well. You offer them an awkward, close-mouthed smile to try and ease the tension. The only one who returns it is Tuk, who throws in a cute little wave as well.
Finally, Ola’netu seems to find his words. “They have not yet mated with you, have they? I cannot… I cannot tell from your scent. You smell like Jakesully… but you always smell of him.”
Your mouth flaps open and closed moronically. Oh god. The bold line of questioning leaves you completely flustered. You hadn’t expected him to be so forthright about things, and you’re certainly not prepared to admit that you had let Jake finger you until you were limp and drooling in his arms only the night before.
“I… I don’t- I mean, no, they haven’t mated with me.” You say when you finally gather yourself enough to answer. “They’re- they’re mated with each other!”
That makes Ola’netu crack a smile, as though amused by your reaction.
“It is not unusual for a mated pair to take on a third. Jake and Neytiri have not discussed this with you?” Ola’netu asks. When you shake your head, his big golden eyes dart over your shoulder towards where Jake and Neytiri are sitting behind you. “I had thought… they act as though…”
Ola’netu doesn’t finish that thought, though you wait for him to. The resulting silence is a little awkward, but then Ola’netu creeps forward a little. He doesn’t reach for you, though it looks as though he’s thinking about it.
You shift on your feet a little awkwardly, and scratch at your elbow. Now that you’re actually in front of Ola’netu, you feel incredibly awkward. You’ve been looking at the Na’vi in a rather hungry way for a while now, and yet now that you’re faced with a male who actually seems interested in you, all you can think about is the way Jake had touched you the night before.
It’s like the floodgates have opened inside your brain. You’ve been around Jake and Neytiri for years now, and yet now you feel shivery and bubbly with simmering arousal after experiencing their attention all evening. You wonder if there’s something wrong with you.
This is your best friend and his wife! You feel like a weirdo for thinking about them like that.
“You are interested in Na’vi?” Ola’netu’s tail lashes behind him as he watches you.
You swallow thickly. Oh, you feel totally out of your depth now. You can feel the eyes of the Sullys boring into you as you speak with Ola’netu; you’re just grateful they can’t hear what you’re saying, because you don’t think you’d be able to live the embarrassment down.
“Um… Yeah.” You say faintly.
Your brain decides unhelpfully to offer up memories of Jake’s big hands and pretty blue skin from the night before, and the ridiculous size of his dick. Jake may have only touched you like that so that you could experience being with a Na’vi for the first time, but you think he may also have unintentionally ruined you for anyone else. Your mind just keeps replaying the encounter in your head like it’s a damn slideshow.
“But… you do not accept Jakesully and Neytiri?” Ola’netu speaks slowly, as though approaching a sensitive topic.
All you can do is blink, wondering if you’re misunderstanding what he’s asking you. It sounds as though he thinks that you’re the one making the final decision here, as though you’re the one with the power. The thought is comical.
“I’m not sure I…” You trail off, bewildered. “What do you mean ‘accept’ them?”
“As mates. They seem to be waiting for your decision.” Ola’netu murmurs, his eyes darting back over your shoulder towards when Jake and Neytiri are no doubt still watching. “But you must be a difficult creature to impress.”
That’s so similar to what Jake had said earlier that you find yourself floundering. That couldn’t have been what Jake had meant though, surely? You feel as though you’ve been struck dumb – the connotations of what Ola’netu is suggesting is almost more than you can handle, and yet he keeps on talking before you can actually wrap your head around it.
“Perhaps it is that you are not ready to take on a mate?” Ola’netu says, his big golden eyes peering into your face. It seems as though he’s having difficulty assessing your thoughts thanks to your alien human features. “I, too, am not ready for a mate. But if it is exploring you are interested in–”
You’re hardly listening to a word he says. You think back rather frantically to every reaction you’ve had with Jake and Neytiri for the past several years. It’s true that you’ve always been close, probably closer than any other relationship you’ve ever had in your life.
You spend almost all of your time with them when you’re not at the human outpost, you sleep in their bed when you stay over with them, their children call you um’ma. And that’s not to mention the tactile nature of your relationship with Jake. But that’s how Jake has always been, even when he was human!
Okay… maybe you can see where Ola’netu’s coming from with his assumptions.
“Wait,” You choke out, interrupting whatever the hell Ola’netu had been saying. “Hang on, are you… are you saying that everyone thinks that I’m– that Jake and Neytiri are–”
You can’t even figure out how to put your thoughts into words. You end up just standing there, gawping at Ola’netu like an idiot as your brain tries to sort all of this out.
Ola’netu frowns, tilting his head in honest confusion. “I had thought that you were mated for many years. But maybe they are just courting you?”
You positively goggle at him, struck dumb. You don’t think you could form a reply even if you wanted to.
It should be a ridiculous notion. Jake has been your friend for years! Sure, you might be closer than most friends, but that’s just how you two have always been. And Neytiri has become your friend too, treating you like family and even welcoming you into her and Jake’s bed whenever you happen to stay the night. If Ola’netu had told you this a week ago, you might have even laughed at his questions. But now, after your experimentation with Jake and all of his and Neytiri’s suggestive touches and comments today, you find yourself baffled.
You never get the chance to respond. Footsteps sound from behind you, and Ola’netu’s eyes flicker above your head as a warm body presses close to your back. You glance over your shoulder, expecting to see Jake – you’re surprised to find that it’s Neytiri who’s standing at your back, watching Ola’netu with sharp eyes.
“Come,” Neytiri murmurs to you, but her eyes remain fixed on Ola’netu. “You have not finished eating.”
You hesitate for a moment, staring up at her. You wonder if you’re losing your mind – Neytiri is so beautiful, her features sharp and bold and her golden eyes intense as she stares down Ola’netu. There’s an awkward silence, but then you start to nod.
“I’ll, um… see you later.” You say to Ola’netu, but your heart’s not in it. You’re distracted, sending uncertain glances up at Neytiri. Ola’netu nods and raises a hand to wave, but you’re already stepping after Neytiri as she leads you back towards the family with a large slender hand pressed between your shoulderblades.
Jake is sitting on the log where you left him, but he’s leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees as he watches you return with Neytiri. He’s frowning, his ears twitching; he looks strangely alert, although some of the stiffness in his shoulders eases as you and Neytiri join him again. The kids are all gathered nearby, and you can see them exchanging looks with each other in a little silent conversation.
You feel embarrassed that they all just witnessed you chatting with Ola’netu, but you try to shake it off. You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, after all, and it’s not like they heard you.
“What was that all about, sweetheart?” Jake asks when you get close enough, already reaching out to try and pull you into his lap.
But for the first time, possibly ever, you resist. You pull your arm back, refusing to go, and Jake blinks at you in bewilderment. You feel sort of guilty, but your head is spinning so fast that you feel dizzy – you need space, and time to think and sort out all of these bizarre thoughts and revelations.
“I’m… I’m going to head to bed, I think.” You blurt, taking a step back.
Hurt flashes across Jake’s face, and he sits up straighter. In all your years of knowing each other, you’ve never pushed Jake away like this.
“You are not staying with us tonight?” Neytiri asks with a discontented frown. She sits down next to Jake on the log, and you think you see her nudge him hard in the side.
You shake your head, swallowing thickly. Normally, you’d be only too delighted to spend the night, but everything has happened so fast and you need time to think.
“No, I’ll just… I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” You murmur, forcing a smile as you step back.
Your expression can’t be very convincing, because the kids exchange another look before turning to look at their parents. Lo’ak stands, looking between his parents before turning to look at you.
“I’ll walk you back, um’ma–” He starts to say, but he’s cut off when Neytiri grabs his shoulder and pulls him back down.
Jake stands instead, and rests his hand on your shoulder. “I’ll walk you back.” He says, squeezing lightly.
You can’t bring yourself to refuse the offer — the forests of Pandora are deadly for a human alone, and you can’t afford to go without an escort. You bite your lip, before nodding jerkily. This is fine. Jake is just looking out for you as a friend, like he always is. You’re the one that’s acting weird! You need to pull yourself together.
The walk home is awkwardly silent. You’re lost in your thoughts, replaying every interaction you’ve had this evening and picking them apart obsessively in your head. Meanwhile, Jake ambles along at your side, matching your pace perfectly. He’s equally as quiet, but he keeps darting looks at you out of the corner of his eyes. Jake is many things, but he’s never been subtle.
By the time you reach the outpost, hardly a word has been shared between the two of you. Jake has started tapping his fingers against his thigh, and the frequency of his glances have increased yet again. He clears his throat, and finally speaks up.
“So, uh… did you enjoy dinner, honey?” He asks. The levity in his voice is rather forced, and it contrasts with the little frown creasing his forehead.
You hum, but you’re distracted. “Mm, sure. It was fine.”
Jake bites at his lip for a second, obviously thinking. His nose twitches, nostrils flaring. He leans a little closer, and you can see his pretty golden eyes dart to your neck.
“Did he touch you there?” Jaks asks. A scowl creases his brow as he reaches out to brush his fingers over your throat, right where Ola’netu had touched where Neytiri had scented.
You jerk back, and then it’s like the floodgates open. You’re unable to keep your thoughts to yourself any longer.
“What the fuck is going on, Jake?” You blurt, eyes wide and bewildered as you take a step back. “I don’t– I’m so confused. Last night was– but then today! You were so– and then Neytiri as well! I don’t understand, and then Ola’netu said– but I don’t get it–”
Jake’s expression drops, all pretence at cheerfulness abandoned. He takes a knee instantly to put himself down at your level, his eyes wide and a little panicked.
“Whoa, whoa, slow down, sweetheart. What’s the problem? Deep breath.” He says, his voice low and soothing as he tries to shush you. He reaches out and puts his hands on your shoulders, his thumbs stroking delicately over your skin.
You push his hands away, still reeling. “Ola’netu thought we were mates. As in, you, Neytiri, and me.”
You wait for a moment, and allow that to sink in. You’re not entirely certain what you’re expecting his reaction to be; will he laugh at that ridiculous notion? Will he be horrified? Disgusted?
But instead, Jake’s face wobbles, as though he can’t hide his expression fast enough.
“He… and yet he was trying to put moves on you anyway?” He says, his nose scrunching in distaste as his fangs glint in the moonlight.
You gape at him. Jake misses the point so damn often it’s like he does it on purpose, but the fact that he doesn’t see that you’re being serious about this infuriates you.
“Jake!” You hiss, fists clenching at your side. “You’re not even listening–!”
“I’m listening, I’m listening–” Jake throws his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
“You said that you’d help me– or, or that you’d help me experience Na’vi… um, bodies, and it was… it was really good, but– I thought that– I don’t know, I just– you said that you were going to guide me through it before I went messing around with other Na’vi–”
Jake’s ears have folded back against the side of his head, and he listens to you with a frown. “I didn’t think you’d actually want to mess around with other Na’vi after I took care of you–”
“Oh what, you think your dick is just that good?” You fold your arms across your chest immediately, scowling.
Jake pauses for a moment, and you see his mouth begin to twitch into a smile. Your temper flares, and you glare furiously at him.
“Don’t you dare.” You warn, already knowing that he has some smart remark planned.
Jake breathes a soft laugh, but then hastily wipes his expression clean when he catches sight of the glint in your eye. He sighs, and reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. He looks a little ridiculous kneeling in the dirt and bending over so that he’s on your level, his expression open and conciliatory.
“Honey, I don’t understand what’s wrong–”
“Stop calling me honey!”
Jake gapes at you. You’ve never shouted at him like that; in all the years you’ve known each other, you’ve never gotten so mad at him that you’d yell, and you’ve never once told him to not call you by his cutesy nicknames. For the first time, Jake seems to actually realise that you’re in turmoil over here.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” He says, and his voice has lost all trace of levity and humour. His expression is serious now, as though he’s dedicating his full attention to solving this problem.
You groan, reaching up to scrub at your face. You can barely even sort through your own thoughts in your head, you have no idea how to effectively go about communicating your feelings here. Throwing delicacy to the wind, you take a deep breath.
“I think I have a crush on you!” You yell close to hysterics. “And it’s ruining my life! I mean, fuck! I’m ruining everything just cause I can’t control myself–”
Jake’s ears twitch and his tail lashes wildly, as though he momentarily loses control of his extremities. His eyes go big and round, and you wonder if this is it – have you fucked everything up?
You had such a good thing going with the Sully family, and the thought of you ruining it just because you got flustered over Jake and Neytiri touching you in a way that was probably meant to be friendly anyway makes you feel ill.
“Baby, come on. We’re practically married anyway, a crush is a good thing.” Jake says, reaching out to take a hold of your elbows. He shuffles closer on his knees, his back bowing as he ducks down to look you in the face.
His expression is open and earnest, and there’s a faint trace of urgency in his eyes as he watches your reaction, and yet you find yourself rearing back and searching his face desperately for any hint of a lie.
“What do you–” You start to say uncertainly, but Jake keeps going before you can finish.
“The kids call you um’ma, you sleep in our bed, you do everything with us. You’re– I mean, we’re crazy for you. Can’t you see that?” Jake’s forehead is all creased up as he tries to keep your attention on him. “We’ve– we’ve been together for years–”
“What?” You blurt, bewildered. “We– no. We’ve been friends. You called me your best friend last night even when you had your goddamn face between my legs–”
“We always call each other that! It’s like… it’s like a bit or something–” He looks helplessly confused. “When you talked about Ola’netu I thought you were just curious, or that you just wanted to experiment or something–”
“Why would you not tell me!” You shriek, throwing your hands up in the air. You feel like an absolute madwoman, and Jake is regarding you like you’re something fragile about to shatter. “Oh my god– so, you and Neytiri have been married for years, and the whole time everyone has thought that I’m just some sad loser that follows the two of you everywhere–”
“No!” Jake says, and now he’s raising his voice too. “No, that’s not what I meant! I meant that you’ve been part of our family this whole time. You must have known that–”
Oh god, you’re getting overwhelmed. Confused and embarrassed tears begin pricking at your eyes, and Jake’s entire face drops when he realises that you’re about to cry.
“How would I have known that, Jake?!” You’re shouting loud enough that you’re certain the scientists inside the outpost can hear you, but mercifully no one comes to check what’s going on. “You’ve never said anything! The only time you’ve ever touched me in a way that suggests we’re more than friends is last night–!”
“It never occurred to me to say anything!” He’s clearly fighting not to raise his voice, trying to keep calm and composed. “I didn’t realise that you didn’t– baby, I have plenty of friends. How many of them spend the night in our bed, or sit on my lap? How many of them do I kiss–”
“I don’t know! You’re a friendly guy!” You yell back, painfully aware of how stupid you sound right now. “But– it doesn’t matter how touchy you were, you never actually did anything! And yet now you expect me to believe that you really wanted me all this time–”
“I didn’t think you were interested!” Jake bursts out. “You never talked about sex, not until last night! I’ve been hinting for years, I just thought that you weren’t into sex or intimacy that way– which is fine by the way, me and Neytiri never minded that, you know that we’d take you anyway we could have you–”
“I’m only human, Jake! I have– I have needs!” Your cheeks are absolutely burning, but you manage to hold eye contact with him. “I mean, you never said anything! So I’ve been sitting lonely in the human outpost while you and Neytiri have been having babies–”
“You–” Jake’s ears flick desperately, “You want a baby?”
“NO!” You yell, flustered and frustrated.
“What?” Jake breathes to himself so quietly that you nearly miss it. He shakes his head quickly, as though trying to clear his head. “Okay, okay, I screwed up, obviously. I should have been more upfront, I should have talked things through with you, I shouldn’t have just assumed we were all on the same page, I get that. But honey, you’ve always been a huge part of our family, we’ve been bringing you gifts of jewelry and clothes and food for years–”
Fuck, you feel so mixed up and confused. You run your hands frustratedly over your face, already shaking your head. Jake is getting steadily more frantic as he talks, clearly seeing that you’re beginning to withdraw.
He tries to take your hand but you step back, chewing at your lip.
“Stop. Jake, stop for a minute.” You groan, turning away from him so that you can breathe for a moment. Your breath rasps through your mask, and abruptly you feel incredibly claustrophobic.
You can’t wrap your head around any of this. Truthfully, you had been perfectly content with your life on Pandora up until a few weeks ago. Jake had satisfied your skin hunger with his caresses and cuddles, Neytiri had always made you feel welcomed around the village by providing you with pretty Omaticaya style clothes and jewelry, and you’ve always been so close to the children that you never craved any of your own. The fact that you had gone so long without any sexual intimacy is surely a testament to how happy you were with the way things were, and yet now you find your head spinning.
Does this mean that you could have had more this whole time? That all those months of craving sexual intimacy, of your growing interest in Na’vi biology, was entirely useless because you had two enormous sexy Na’vi who loved and cared for you very much just sitting right there the whole time thinking that you weren’t interested in sex? What the fuck?
“I can’t do this right now.” You whisper. You’re breathing heavily, as though all of your overthinking is taking an actual physical toll on you. “I have to– I can’t. I have to go.”
Jake’s expression drops entirely, and he pushes himself to stand, already reaching out after you. “Hang on, please. Look, kid, why don’t you just come back home, huh? We can talk things out properly, all three of us–”
You shake your head as you step backwards towards the outpost door. You probably should talk this out, but you just can’t right now. You need to get this mask off, and you need time to think to yourself about all of this and what it means for your relationships going forward.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jake.” You whisper.
You don’t let yourself listen to the way he calls your name as you escape into the outpost; you already know that if you see the look on his face, you’ll crumble.
The heavy door swings shut behind you, the hiss of the hydraulics drowning out the last of Jake’s pleas. You’re finally alone for the evening, but for a very long moment you can’t move at all. You just stay leaning against the heavy door as the oxygenation chamber begins to work, finally allowing you to tear your mask off and toss it to the floor.
You take deep, heavy breaths, before hiding your head in your hands. You can’t help but feel as though you’ve handled that rather poorly.
For the next several days, you don’t leave the outpost once. Ostensibly, you’re helping Norm with his research. In reality, you’re likely just getting underfoot and annoying all the other scientists that are actually trying to do work.
It’s cowardly and immature, but you just don’t think you can face Jake or Neytiri right now. You can’t stop thinking of the looks and whispers that the two of them had exchanged when you had talked about possibly being interested in Na’vi men and mating. You’re so damn embarrassed, and you feel like a total idiot.
And yet at the same time, you feel so prickly and irritated. After so many years of friendship, how ridiculous is it that they didn’t speak to you about this? Your irritation bleeds over into your mood as you sit around the base, and soon enough everyone else in the outpost starts to avoid you as best they can.
Three days may not seem like an extraordinarily long time to avoid your friends, but it’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing them in… well, possibly ever.
Jake knows you well enough to know that you need space to think things over, which probably accounts for the fact that he hasn’t yet shown up to bust your door down. But while Jake may be giving you space, no one seems to have given that memo to Lo’ak.
“Whatever dad did, I’m sure he’s sorry.” Lo’ak blurts on the afternoon of your third day of self-imposed exile.
The two of you are sprawled out on one of the couches in the meagre corner that Max has attempted to turn into a recreation area – the couch Lo’ak is laying across was originally designed for Avatar bodies, and he spends enough time in the outpost that he looks perfectly at home here with a CO2 respirator hanging around his neck for him to sip at the air.
You sigh, avoiding his eyes. You know you’re not meant to have favourites among the children, but you’ve always had a mushy little soft spot for Lo’ak. He’s always so hungry for recognition and validation, and yet he can be so damn sweet. It’s no surprise that he’s the one that’s skipping his duties in the clan just to hang out with you at the outpost because he’s worried about you.
“Your dad didn’t do anything, Lo’ak.” You murmur, though you’re still having a hard time looking at him.
Lo’ak’s brow puckers. “... Mom, then?”
“No!” You say quickly, before taking a deep breath and continuing in a calmer tone of voice. “No, it’s not– look, it’s just… sometimes, grown-ups just need some time apart to think, that’s all.”
Lo’ak is quiet for a moment. He’s staring down into his lap, his brow drawn together moodily as he fidgets with his thumbs. He’s obviously thinking hard, lost in his thoughts, though you couldn’t begin to guess what it is he’s thinking about.
Lo’ak is more like his mother than anyone gives him credit for; just like Neytiri, he does a poor job keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself for too long.
“Spider said that Norm told him about a human thing called divorce.” He bursts out, finally raising his head to look at you. For the first time, you see the glimmer of panic in his eyes. “Are you– you’re not doing that, right?”
You rear back, struggling to hide your shock from him. Oh god, now the guilt is starting to set in. In all your panic and embarrassment, you hadn’t really considered what the kids must have thought about all this.
Lo’ak’s ears are pressed flat against the side of his head and his tail is coiled tightly against his body, giving you an insight into how vulnerable he’s feeling right now.
“Oh, no, kiddo!” You blurt, sitting up on the couch and leaning over to place a hand on your shoulder. “It’s not… It’s not like that.”
Lo’ak’s eyes are suspiciously glassy, and he immediately shuffles over to hide his face in your shoulder. The hug is a little awkward; he’s not nearly as small as he used to be as a small child, but he’s still trying his best to curl his much larger body into your chest. It’s like cuddling a golden retriever that doesn’t realise how large it is.
“Mom and dad have been arguing since you left.” He mumbles into your shoulder. “Whatever they did to make you mad, they’re sorry about it.”
Your heart aches, and you close your eyes and sigh as you kiss his forehead. Damn, now you really feel like an asshole. You never expected this to impact Jake and Neytiri’s relationship at home, and to hear that they’re actually in conflict comes as a surprise to you. They’re usually a united front, so to hear that there’s cracks in that front because of you is somewhat jarring.
“... What are they arguing about?” You murmur, feeling a little guilty for prying.
Lo’ak shrugs, as though the way his parents think is utterly mystifying to his brain. “Mom thinks dad fucked up somehow, I dunno.”
He darts a quick look up at your face as though trying to check whether he’s going to get scolded for cursing, but you hardly notice. You’re too busy thinking. You can’t help but wonder exactly how Jake had recounted your little conversation to Neytiri, and you feel your cheeks burn at the thought of what she must have had to say about it. They probably both think you’re a total moron.
You sigh through your nose and pet Lo’ak’s braids absently. He seems happy to burrow close as you think, relaxing into your arms as though he’s not comically large for a fourteen year old.
Truthfully, you wonder if you’re overthinking this. Because if you’re being honest with yourself, the thought that Jake and Neytiri think of you romantically sends a thrill of excitement so pure running through you that it feels as though it’s going to knock you off your feet.
You’ve spent so long moping about being alone that you didn’t even realise that you have two big sexy Na’vi sitting there interested in you but thinking that you weren’t interested in sex? Fuck, how could you have misassessed the situation like that?
“Hey, um’ma?” Lo’ak mumbles, his voice all muffled by your shirt.
“Yeah?”
There’s a pause. Then Lo’ak says, “Ola’netu’s a loser.”
“Lo’ak!” You scold, swatting at his head.
“It’s true!” Lo’ak complains. Your light smack to his head is so inconsequential that he doesn’t even bother moving his head out of the way, choosing instead to shuffle even closer until he’s practically crushing you.
“It’s rude to call people losers.” You sigh.
Lo’ak just grumbles. “Not when they’re trying to steal one of your moms.”
“That’s not–” You start, before falling silent. Na’vi mating practices and culture still throws you for a loop sometimes, but to hear Lo’ak say that he considers you a mom leaves you feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. You had known he viewed you as some kind of role model figure based on how he used to follow along behind your ankles as a young child, but to hear him come out and say it is something entirely different.
“Aw.” You whisper, unable to help it as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hug him tight. “You’re so sweet, aren’tcha?”
Despite the fact that Lo’ak was literally just burrowing his way into your side, he starts rolling his eyes and leaning away. “Um’ma, quit it!”
You’re still laughing when you hear the sound of a door opening somewhere behind you, and you don’t even bother looking around. It’s Lo’ak who looks over your shoulder instead, and his face goes slack in surprise as his mouth drops open.
“Mom!” Lo’ak says, pushing himself up onto his knees on the couch so he can stare wide-eyed behind you.
You whip around at that, and feel your heart actually skip a beat at the sight of Neytiri picking her way through the narrow walkway of the outpost. You’re certain that your own expression matches Lo’ak’s surprised bewilderment perfectly.
Neytiri has never visited the human outpost before; she mostly tolerates the presence of the humans living beyond the boundary of the Omaticaya village, and is understandably wary of most of them. The sight of her walking towards you as she fiddles with the respirator around her neck is surreal.
Your stomach trembles at the sight of her. You’re not sure you’re ready to have this conversation with her, but you already know there’s no escape. If there’s anyone that can match Jake in pure hard-headed stubbornness, it’s Neytiri.
“Lo’ak,” Neytiri murmurs as she approaches. “Go home. Your father wants you to go foraging with Kiri.”
Lo’ak groans loudly, and Neytiri shoots him a look so sharp that it practically cuts. He gets the message almost immediately, and obviously decides it’s in his best interest not to argue any further. He stands up off the couch and skulks off, though he glances over his shoulder at you before he rounds the corner.
“See you at dinner, um’ma?” He calls, his eyes gone soft and hopeful.
You hesitate, glancing nervously at Neytiri. “Uh… I’m not sure.” You say non-committedly, smiling weakly.
Lo’ak frowns, stopping dead-still as his ears pin back. “Um’ma, please.”
Ah fuck, you never could deny that kid anything. You sigh, reaching up to rub at the space between your eyes. “Right. Yeah, okay. See you later, Lo’ak.”
As soon as Lo’ak disappears around the corner, Neytiri steps towards you. Flustered, you stand up to meet her as she stops just short of the couch. She’s watching you closely, her honey-coloured eyes tracking over every inch of you.
You’re so thrown by the fact that she’s actually here, in front of you, in the human outpost, that you barely even know what to say to her.
“Um… hey.” You say stupidly.
Thankfully, Neytiri decides to ignore your weak little greeting.
“I wish to talk, tawtute.” Her voice is soft, as though she’s trying not to scare you away.
Right. Of course she does. Your eyes dart around the little rec area, all shifty. Towards the back of the open space of the outpost, you can see some of the scientists sending you curious looks. You can’t really blame them; while the Sully kids are regular visitors around here, the sight of Neytiri must be rather startling.
“We can talk in my room.” You mutter, stepping back and hurriedly leading the way towards privacy.
Neytiri follows along silently, though her attention is mostly taken up with looking around the building curiously. You usher her into your room quickly, your heart rate already picking up nervously.
It’s more than a little unnerving to watch Neytiri’s tall, willowy figure stepping into your cramped, windowless room. She looks so out of place amongst the clutter of your stuff, and yet she steps forward and sinks down to perch herself on the edge of your bed as though she belongs there.
You barely manage to stifle a squeak at the sight of her sitting right where Jake had sat only a few nights earlier, right before he had fingered you within an inch of your life. She’s watching you as though she knows what you’re thinking, and you feel your face grow warm under her regard.
“Jake said that you needed space,” She murmurs, breaking the expectant silence that had settled over the two of you. “And I trust him with many things. But he has already made a mess of this, hasn’t he?”
You swallow thickly, fidgeting with your fingers. You can’t help but feel guilty; it was you that had made a mess of this by hiding yourself away like this and refusing to face them after your obvious misunderstanding.
“I’m sorry.” You say stiffly. “I didn’t mean to… well. I just needed time to think.”
Neytiri hums, though she doesn’t appear too convinced. “Jake tells me that you did not realise how we valued you as a mate.”
She says it as though she thinks it’s ridiculous, which certainly doesn’t help things. She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she watches you. Her delicate little chest covering sways forward, and it takes everything in you not to stare at her tits.
“Why would you wish to mate with someone you cannot connect with?” You ask, your voice quiet.
It’s probably not fair to throw Neytiri’s own words back at her from the conversation you had had about Ola’netu on the first night of mating season, but you get a twisted sense of satisfaction from the way her expression cracks into surprise. She looks taken aback, her ears flattening.
“That was not what I meant.” She protests, her brow creasing into a frown.
“You were asking me to find “release” with the other humans!” You burst out. It might not be fair to get frustrated at her like this, but all of these thoughts have been brewing since your little argument with Jake and you finally get the chance to express them.
Neytiri’s tail lashes, revealing her own restlessness.
“You never approached us for…” She trails off, then takes a breath. “I assumed that you were seeking pleasure from your kind. It is like I said; sex is a way for bonding in mated pairs as well as outside of them.”
You blink at her, bewildered. You had thought that she was just making a sweeping statement about Na’vi sexuality. It hadn’t occurred to you that she had been telling you this because she was including you in the mated subsection of the population.
“Jake thought that you were not interested in sexual intimacy at all, because you never mentioned anything to him.” Neytiri says. “But I had thought that you just preferred intimacy with your own kind. And that would be fine, tawtute. There is much diversity among Na’vi mating bonds, and there is almost no mating bonds between Na’vi and Sky People. We are learning as we go.”
She’s doing the same thing that Jake had done; keeping her voice carefully low as though trying not to upset you. You’re a little torn; you can’t decide whether it’s sweet or aggravating that they treat you like you’re something delicate that needs to be protected. You decide to settle on aggravated, even as she keeps talking.
“There are other forms of intimacy; sitting in laps, grooming, cooking for each other, sleeping in shared spaces, spending quality time together. We do all of this, syulang.”
“If you aren’t interested in having sex with me, just say that.” You say, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. You know that you sound like a little brat right now, but you can’t help it. “You don’t have to come up with all these different excuses.”
Neytiri’s eyes widen, her hairless brows raising.
“We did not think we were–” Neytiri struggles for a moment to find the right word. “Compatible. Sexually. We are too big, tawtute, we could have hurt you.”
“But you never even tried.” You say stubbornly, a frown creeping onto your face. “Jake wasn’t too big when he fingered me the other night.”
You might be stretching the truth a little there, because Jake has fat-ass fingers that had stretched you until you had been an actual sobbing mess, but you’re trying to make a point here.
Neytiri reaches up and presses her fingers against her mouth, and it takes you a moment to realise that she’s trying hard not to laugh.
“If you wanted to be touched, all you had to do was ask.” She murmurs, before reaching her other hand out towards you.
You hesitate for a moment. You’re not sure if you’re ready to let go of your annoyance so easily, but you step towards Neytiri all the same. Her tail is twitching, a clear sign of her anticipation. As soon as you get within arm’s reach, she takes you by the arms and pulls you right up into her lap.
You squeak, flustered at the sudden movement. It’s not like it’s strange for you to be hauled into a Na’vi’s lap, but it’s never been Neytiri’s lap before. You grab onto her shoulders without thinking to try and steady yourself, and out of the corner of your eye you see a pleased smile playing about her lips.
“What did you think of Jake?” She asks, her voice low. Her long, slender hands wrap around your hips to keep you in place across her thighs.
“Um…” Your brain has stalled a bit, completely distracted by the way your own thighs are spread wide so that you’re straddling her hips.
Neytiri’s tiny little smile is knowing, as if she knows that your cunt is growing wet and hot just from the feeling of your thighs being stretched wide over hers. Even more distracting is the way her long fingers are tracing over the exposed skin of your thighs where your dress has ridden up over your hips.
“You wanted to experience Na’vi bodies, hm?” She murmurs, her fingers pushing higher as she traces little circles over your hips. “What did you think of Jake’s?”
“It was– he was… great.” You sound like an absolute idiot, and you feel like one as well. It’s like your brain is actually grinding to a halt, as though every ounce of your awareness is narrowing down to the points of contact between you and Neytiri.
Neytiri hums, her eyes dropping down over your own body and lingering. She’s clearly curious about your cotton dress – you almost exclusively wear your Omaticayan style beaded top and loincloth when you’re in the village, and Neytiri hasn’t actually seen you wearing your own human clothes in years. She tugs at the back of it with a tiny frown.
“Good.” She murmurs, her fingers tangling in the soft fabric of your dress. “But just as you were unfamiliar with Na’vi bodies, I have never experienced the body of a Sky Person.”
You take a sharp breath. You’ve clearly been painfully oblivious of any signals that Jake and Neytiri may have been sending you over the years, and you’re not prepared to miss out on anything else just because you’re not willing to take a risk.
“D’you want to?” You ask in a whisper. It comes out more breathless that you had intended, your excitement causing your lungs to squeeze tight.
Neytiri’s smile widens, the delicate skin around her eyes creasing right before she leans in and presses a full-mouthed kiss to your mouth.
It’s messier and more heated than you had expected from her, and you moan without meaning to when her sharp canines tug at your lower lip. Neytiri kisses like she's got something to prove — her mouth is firm and unyielding against yours, and her teeth nip lightly at your lips in a way that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.
As you gasp into her mouth, her hands grip at your waist and haul you closer to her until your chests are pressed tight together, your thighs spread wide around her hips as she pulls you tight to her.
You whimper against her, unable to help yourself, and then to your immense disappointment she pulls back. Her mouth is wet and swollen, but she looks so pretty when she grins at you. When she tugs at your dress again, you pick up on her unspoken request and immediately begin tugging your dress over your head.
You’re left in just your bra and panties, but you’re not given a moment to feel self-conscious. Neytiri’s big golden eyes are taking you in hungrily, but despite that hunger there’s also a gleam of curiosity in her eyes. When you unclasp your bra and let it fall to the side, her eyes land on your breasts as though you’ve just unwrapped a gift for her.
She reaches for your tits immediately, and her big hands practically swallow them whole. You’re reminded of the way she had brushed her hands against your tits when she had fixed your top in a way that was almost casual, but in hindsight was unmistakably erotic.
“Ah,” Neytiri murmurs, sounding almost surprised as her hands close around your tits. “They are softer than I expected.”
“Are they?” You breathe a little dazedly.
She hums, and you bite back another squeak when she reaches up and pulls off her pretty chest covering. You’ve seen Neytiri’s breasts before, of course; the Na’vi are not modest about their bodies, and those beaded tops the women wear are mostly just for accessory.
But seeing is different to touching, and your breath catches when she takes your wrist and guides your hand to one of her tits.
Neytiri’s breasts are small, in proportion to the rest of her tall svelte body, but they’re firmer than you had expected. It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise, you suppose – the muscle structure of the Na’vi is insane, and there’s almost zero softness to them. Neytiri’s breasts are probably the most pliable part of her whole body, but even still the flesh doesn’t yield as much as you might have expected. You can certainly understand why Neytiri is so fascinated by the cushiony softness of your own chest.
Neytiri lets out a small, pleased sound when your thumb rolls over her nipple, and she lifts her CO2 respirator to take a quick sip of air before dropping it and clasping your jaw with one hand. She pulls you into another kiss, and you sigh happily as her tongue slides against yours. The size difference means that the kiss is a little awkward, but her enthusiasm makes up for that.
It feels like the world is spinning, and you let out a soft noise of surprise when her teeth sink into your lower lip. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but the sensation has you shivering in her lap. You almost whine when she breaks away from you, but she just starts to trail kisses down your neck and across your chest.
“Oh, fuck.” You breathe, your whole body jolting when she bites at the curve of your breast. It stings, and you look down at yourself to find a reddened bite mark at the top of your tit, right where it starts to swell.
“So soft and pretty, syulang.” Neytiri mumbles, sucking a bruise on the top of your other tit.
She’s the oddest mix of rough and gentle with you; she’s obviously very conscious of how much bigger and stronger she is, because she’s holding you like you’re made of glass. But even as she strokes her thumbs over your hipbones, her hot, hungry mouth nips and kisses at your sensitive skin and leaves purpling bruises behind.
When her mouth actually closes around your nipple, you let out an absolutely mortifying sound of confusion mixed with arousal. She can fit so much of your breast in her mouth that when she actually suckles on it, your eyes practically roll back at the stimulation.
“God,” You whimper, your hips twitching against her lap. The lace of your panties drags over the soft buttery fabric of her loincloth, and the friction against your clit leaves you shivery. “Neytiri, will you please– can you–?”
Neytiri hums, reluctantly releasing your tit from the wet heat of her mouth. You shiver as the cool air of the room hits the spit-slick skin of your breasts, but Neytiri quickly places her hand over the spot she had been sucking, warming your skin as she squeezes lightly.
“So eager, tawtute.” She coos, smiling at you like she thinks that you’re just adorable. She reaches her much larger hand into your panties, her long slender fingers sliding through the slick folds of your pussy with ease.
You groan like you’ve just been punched, and drop your head down against her shoulder. Her thumb rolls over your clit and your hips jump, grinding in her lap. She chuckles at your reaction, and watches your face closely as she presses one of her fingers inside of you. While a single one of her fingers is much larger than yours, it’s still smaller than Jake’s and you find yourself wanting more.
“Another one.” You beg, already humping your hips into her hand.
Neytiri laughs softly, but does as you ask all the same. The second finger is a definite stretch, but you’re so aroused already that it only stings for a moment before your body adjusts, squeezing tight around her.
“Pretty, pretty girl.” She whispers, ducking her face back down to your chest even as she fingers you.
Oh god, she’s bitey. The wet heat of her mouth leaves trails of stinging bruises across your tender chest and shoulders, which she then soothes over with her large, catlike tongue. There’s going to be no covering the marks she’s leaving behind, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
You’d likely let her do anything to you right now; you feel overheated and shivery, and you can’t stop your chest from heaving as you rut your hips into her fingers, moaning as the heel of her hand grinds into your clit. Her hand is much too big to fit properly in your panties, but you’re far past the point of caring if she stretches the fabric out.
The only thing that could actually bring you out of the sweaty, horny haze you’ve found yourself in is the sound of your bedroom door opening, and you freeze in Neytiri’s lap with your breathing embarrassingly loud in the silence.
For a wildly horrifying moment, you think that Lo’ak had returned for something, and you think about just dropping dead on the spot.
But then you look reluctantly over your shoulder, and you see Jake’s big body standing hunched in your doorway, and you want to drop dead for an entirely different reason.
Jake is looking between you and Neytiri with wide golden eyes, his eyebrows raised so high that his whole forehead is creased. His stare lingers on your bare chest, then on Neytiri’s, and then drops down to where Neytiri’s hand is stuffed down the front of your panties.
“Oh shit.” Jake breathes once he manages to get over his surprise. His expression brightens and he hastily shuts the door behind himself, shuffling quickly over to your bed to join you and Neytiri.
The little room you had claimed as a bedroom is far from large, but it feels even smaller now that you have both Jake and Neytiri’s nine-feet-tall big ass bodies joining you on your miserable, rickety little bed.
“I guess that your little chat went well, huh?” Jake murmurs, a shit-eating grin on his face as he settles next to Neytiri, leaning in close so that his hungry eyes can rove over your almost naked body.
Neytiri hums, though she hardly even looks up at her husband. She’s too busy nuzzling little kisses into your throat, pulling helpless little gasps out of your mouth every time her lips close over your sensitive skin. Her hand doesn’t stop moving either, and you feel like you’re going weak in her lap every time the thick pad of her thumb rolls over the little bead of your clit.
“You handled things badly, ma Jake. I told you I would sort it.” She says, and you can feel her lips curving into a smile against your throat.
Jake just snickers, and you can feel the warm weight of his palm land on your back. He strokes over the bare length of your spine, and then you feel his fingers tug playfully at the back of your panties. He purposefully tugs the lace fabric so that it’s wedged uncomfortably between your asscheeks, and you let out a soft yowl of complaint before half-turning and slapping at his hands.
“Ah fuck, you’re wearing your sexy panties, huh?” Jake’s laugh is a little hoarse as he tugs at your underwear.
Neytiri hisses at him in aggravation when his messing about leads to her hand being forced out of your panties, but Jake just grins. The two of them are so fucking big, they’re practically looming over you right now. Even perched in Neytiri’s lap, you feel tiny in between them.
“The fabric means something?” Neytiri asks, her attention now caught on your red lacy panties.
“Oh yeah.” Jake mutters, his chest pressing up against your bare back, which consequently pushes your breasts against Neytiri’s. “Why don’t you tell her what your panties mean, honey?”
“Jake.” You complain, though it comes out more whiny than you had intended.
He just ignores you, his chest rumbling quietly in amusement against your back as he leans down to murmur in your ear. “Means she was hoping someone’d take her clothes off to get a peek at her, isn’t that right?”
You don’t get the chance to respond, because Jake wraps an arm around your middle and plucks you right out of Neytiri’s lap. You end up sprawled in his lap with your thighs spread wide over his, your back plastered against his chest. One of his hands rests against your belly to keep you pinned against him, keeping you firmly in place against him.
You half expect Neytiri to be irritated over being interrupted, but if anything she’s brightened even further. There’s a gleam in her eyes as she pushes herself off the bed, landing on her knees in between Jake’s spread thighs.
You feel ridiculously exposed like this; it’s almost as if Jake has maneuvered you into this position with the express purpose of showing your body off. Your thighs bracket his, and when he spreads his legs yours are forced wider too, giving Neytiri an eyeful of your scarlet red panties and the absolutely humiliating wet spot that’s currently soaking through the crotch.
Your back is arched too thanks to the way that he’s holding you tight against him, which forces your tits out and gives him a good eyeful of the nips and bruises that Neytiri’s greedy mouth had left behind.
“Damn, you did a number on her, didn’t’ya?” Jake’s big fingers trace over the tender marks across your breasts, and you swear it feels like the contact sends a little zap of electricity racing through you.
Neytiri just giggles, her cheeks dimpling as she smiles up at you and Jake from between your spread thighs. The close proximity of her face to your pussy almost takes your breath away, and your breath catches in your chest when she rubs her big thumb over the wet patch on the fabric of your panties.
Some part of you wonders if you should try to slow things down, to talk things out, but then Neytiri hooks her long fingers in the band of your panties and tugs them clumsily down your thighs and all sensible thought completely abandons you.
You let out a soft, wanting sound when Jake’s fingers run through the slickness of your pussy, spreading you wide so that Neytiri can get a proper look at you. She even leans closer, and the heat of her breath against your oversensitive, damp skin has you twitching.
“What do you think, baby?” Jake asks Neytiri, leaning over your head and looking down at her with a grin. His fingers roll a teasing circle over your clit, and you groan as your head falls backwards to rest against his chest.
“She is so small.” Neytiri coos, her own big fingers joining Jake’s in stroking over you.
All you can do is lay there in Jake’s lap, with your eyes wide and your chest heaving as their big fingers press into you, stretch you wide, and rub at your clit. It’s like they’re trying to outdo each other, trying to unravel you with their fingers alone. Their hands are so big that the combination of their touches feels overwhelming, as though the heat of their fingers is stealing the breath right out of your lungs.
God, you love how they make you feel so small and delicate. Getting manhandled and pinned down during sex is exciting normally anyway, but with two Na’vi twice your size that excitement turns into an outright thrill.
Neytiri kisses the inside of your thigh. It’s such a sweet little motion, her plush lips dragging gently over the thin sensitive skin of your inner thighs. It’s not much of a surprise when her lips add a little suction, a little nip of her canines, just so she can suck another little lovebite at the juncture of your hips and thighs.
“So pretty, syulang.” She whispers, but her voice is muffled as she trails kisses tantalisingly close to where you want her mouth.
“Neytiri,” You whimper. You try to squirm, but Jake keeps you still. “Please-!”
Jake chuckles, his chest rumbling pleasantly against your back. “C’mon, Neytiri, baby, help me get her ready.”
“She’s so wet already.” Neytiri murmurs, her cheeks dimpling so prettily as she leans in and finally lays her mouth on you.
The wet heat of her mouth has your head tilting back onto Jake’s shoulder with a moan, earning a quiet laugh from Jake as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. His big hands keep your thighs spread, and you end up with your legs spread wide and thrown over Neytiri’s shoulders as she latches onto your clit and sucks.
“Fuck!” You yell, your hips jerking. But Jake keeps your hips pinned down so that your ass is pressing against the hardened bulge in his loincloth, his arms wrapped around your belly as he watches Neytiri eat you out from over your shoulder.
“She tastes good, doesn’t she, baby?” Jake croons to her, snickering when Neytiri moans out a garbled response, all muffled into your cunt.
Even from the corner of your eye, you can see the excited smile that’s tugging at Jake’s lips as he hooks his chin over your shoulder to get a better look at Neytiri hungrily licking you out. Judging by the stiffening of his cock pressed against your ass, he is more than enjoying the view.
Na’vi tongues are so oddly textured, like a cat-tongue almost, and Neytiri’s licks against you are rougher than they would be with a human partner. It also means that when her wide, rough tongue rasps over your clit, sparks practically burst behind your eyes as you cry out.
“That’s it, honey. Just relax.” Jake whispers to you, his wide palm cupping your tits and squeezing a little.
Neytiri’s tongue slides down the lips of your pussy until she reaches your slit, and then her tongue is wiggling inside of you and you’re turning your head to the side and whining into the pretty blue skin of Jake’s neck. He just hums, obviously enjoying the sight of his wife tongue-fucking you as you’re held spread open in his lap.
Jake’s cock is pressing into the dip at the small of your back, scalding hot and hard as a goddamn rock, and you alternate between rocking against the length of his hard dick and back into Neytiri’s greedy mouth. She mouths along your pussy, her teeth grazing and scratching at the sensitive skin just right.
You let out an overwhelmed sort of sob, the air catching in your chest as you heave for breath, and you can feel Neytiri smile against the soft flesh of your pussy. Neytiri’s tongue traces your folds, pulling them into his mouth and suckling. You arch your back and moan into Jake’s neck, though your own little sounds of pleasure are mostly drowned out by the soft, breathy moans she keeps making into your pussy everytime she licks into you.
The two of them are caging you in with their big bodies, holding you so gently even as they push you close to the edge. The sweet, hot tension in your lower belly coils tighter and tighter until you’re a trembling wreck, ready to shatter apart.
“Oh… oh god.” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut tight as your head rests back against Jake’s chest. He just chuckles, and smooths some of your sweaty hair back off your forehead.
“Gonna come, honey?” He whispers, his voice all coy and teasing in your ear. “Oh shit, you crying?”
You are tearing up, just a little bit, from all the sheer stimulation of Neytiri’s mouth on your pussy and Jake’s enormous hands groping at your tits. You still manage to smack Jake’s bicep for that comment though, a weak little slap to his hard muscle.
“Shit, I’m… I’m gonna–” You start to say, your eyelids fluttering shut in anticipation as that beautiful, toe-curling tension starts to coil sweetly in your lower belly.
But right as you’re about to tip over that precipice into bliss, Neytiri pulls away and you nearly start crying for real.
“No! Wait, don’t stop–” You whine, your hips humping into the air in an attempt to follow after Neytiri’s mouth.
“Shhh, mawey, syulang. Calm.” Neytiri purrs, another little kiss placed on your soft inner thigh. “So perfect, yawntu.”
The pupils of her eyes are wider than you’ve ever seen them, and she keeps leaning her cheek against the plush flesh of your thigh. She looks drunk almost, even as she keeps kissing all along your thighs and up over your tummy, before returning to your cunt just to give you slow, kittenish licks right over the bead of your clit.
Your entire body jerks with every kiss. Her tongue is hot and wet as she licks at you, and it feels like liquid fire erupts through your nerves. Your hips twitch and chase after her touch, but Jake keeps you in place with his firm grasp on your thighs.
You’re desperate, frantic for any kind of release. This feels as though it’s been building for years, as though your body has just been waiting for them to touch you like this. God, it feels good. They’re so much bigger than you that any wrong move could end up with them actually crushing you between them, and yet they’re so sweet and careful. You feel as safe with them as ever.
As if he senses your impatience, Jake kisses the spot just under your ear. “You want more, sweetheart?”
“Yes!” You hiss, already squirming in his lap. Your ass rubs against his dick and he groans, his arms tightening around your waist to pull you back onto him so that he can grind against you.
“What d’you think, huh?” Jake’s voice is rough and gravelly as he speaks to Neytiri, his arousal obvious. “Is our little lady ready for it?”
“She is so small, ma Jake. It will be a tight fit.” Neytiri murmurs, her voice all muffled as her fingers dip back inside you. You roll your hips against her fingers, whimpering a little at the mouth-watering stretch as she pushes a third long finger inside.
“She’ll take it,” Jake murmurs, his flat nose pressing into your temple. “Won’t you, beautiful?”
One Na’vi finger is probably the equivalent of two of yours, so the stretch is enough to send your head spinning. You barely even comprehend what he’s saying to you, but you nod blindly anyway, gasping wetly as Neytiri fingers you.
“Uh huh, yeah, please.” You say stupidly, wiggling on his lap.
Jake lifts you a little higher, holding you close to his chest as Neytiri pulls his loincloth off. And fuck, you had almost forgotten how big his dick was. He’s so hard, the delicate little glowing white freckles along the length of it twinkling like little stars, just like the ones splashed across Neytiri’s tits.
“Hush, honey, we’re gonna look after you.” Jake soothes you, kissing your temple. “Gonna be so good to you. Fuck, been waiting so long for this.”
Jake grunts a quiet moan when Neytiri’s hand closes around his cock, and he muffles his appreciative noises in the curve of your shoulder. Neytiri presses a playful kiss to the tip of his dick, earning another groan from Jake, before she looks up at you again.
“You are okay, syulang?” She whispers, setting one heavy hand on your waist and stroking her long thumb over your stomach.
You’ve never been so eager for anything in your life. It’s like your body remembers the feeling of Jake’s fingers and the weight of his cock on your tongue, because it feels like every nerve is aflame as you wait for him to press into you and stretch you wide. You’ve been thinking about this since that night, lying alone in your quarters and stuffing yourself full with your fingers trying to imagine it was his dick. No matter what though, it never feels like enough.
You nod, and lean forward in Jake’s lap to try and kiss Neytiri again. You’re a little shy about it, still a little thrilled that you’re allowed to do this, and she ends up sitting up on her knees and placing her hand on the back of your head to pull you into a sweet, lingering kiss.
As she kisses you, the thick head of Jake’s dick drags through your folds and you shiver in anticipation. Even just the tip of it feels big when he’s grinding it against your clit, and you wrap your arms around Neytiri’s shoulders for stability as Jake positions himself at your entrance.
“Fuck,” The groan is punched out of you when you feel the insistent pressure of Jake’s cock pressing into you. “Jake… Your dick is too big, it won’t fit–”
“You think I gotta big dick, sweetheart?” Jake laughs, cause he’s an asshole like that. His teeth flash in a grin.
“You’re such a dickhead.” You complain, but you find yourself laughing breathlessly anyway.
His intention was to make you relax a little, and it works. Jake and Neytiri’s big fingers have been stretching you out, and you’re so horny and eager right now that it’s now or never.
Jake just snickers, and reaches over to your bedside locker. He opens it up and reaches inside, and pulls out the tiny plastic bottle of lube you have hidden away in there. You can't even think about how he knows it’s there because Neytiri keeps kissing you stupid, and you don’t have any brain power to spare.
Neytiri trails kisses down your neck and chest, pausing at your breasts again. She takes a hasty, shaky breath from the CO2 respirator around her neck, before dropping it and leaning forward to wrap her lips around your nipple again while massaging your other breast with her free hand. Her gentle but eager touches feel genuinely addictive, like she’s leaving trails of pure heat along your oversensitive skin with every brush of her lips.
Jake’s cock, slick with lube, presses up into your cunt, and you let out a garbled whimper at the feeling of intense dull pressure. “Oh, fuck.”
You jolt when Neytiri lets your tit go with a soft, wet little pop. She coos softly at you, cupping your cheek with her hand and brushing her thumb over your cheekbone. Her eyes are so big and golden and pretty, and she’s looking up at you with an awed sort of smile, as though she can hardly believe she’s seeing you like this right now.
Jake begins to press into you, stretching you wide and slipping inside inch by inch.
You gasp desperately as you’re speared open inexorably slowly, tears pricking your eyes as your mouth drops open. Your hips twitch, unsure whether to press back into him to get him deeper inside of you faster or to jerk away from the intense stretch, but his hands are clamped tight around your hips to restrict your movement.
“Fuck, so tight.” Jake grunts, pausing. “Strangling my cock. Shhh… your pussy was made for this, honey. You’ll stretch.””
The noise you make barely sounds human, an incomprehensible mix between a moan and a squeal as Neytiri steadies you, her big hands settling on your waist. She’s staring between your legs, obviously transfixed by the sight of Jake rocking his cock into you in steady increments. Though you can’t see yourself, you can only imagine that it must be quite the sight.
“Just– put it in all at once!” You burst out, gasping as you squeeze your eyes shut. You feel as though you’re about to get totally overwhelmed, the breath driven right out of you as the shocking girth of him stretches you wide.
“Easy, baby girl.” He rumbles into your ear, breath coming in short puffs. He bites at the junction between your neck and shoulder as he slides another inch deeper inside of you. “You’re doing so good.”
You try to calm yourself, taking your deep breaths, but for a heartbeat or two you can’t breathe at all, hovering on a knife's edge of pain and pleasure as your body could only yield – it doesn’t even feel like there’s room in you even to inhale –
“Be gentle, Jake.” Neytiri murmurs, her thumb landing on your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles against it to soothe you.
“I know, I know, I got her.” Jake grunts.
Each ridge on his cock rubs against your inner walls, the slick, throbbing friction never flagging. His rough hands wander erratically, raking up your rib cage, over one breast and down again, grasping as if a handful of you is not enough as he moves his hips in slow humps to get his cock as deep in you as he can manage.
“Fuck!” You moan throatily, dropping your head to hang low as you rock your hips experimentally back on his dick. “Jake, you gotta… gotta move.”
It doesn’t all fit inside of you, but Jake doesn’t seem to mind – he’s grunting out quiet curses, his voice rough and deep as his cock rocks into the tightness of your cunt. The stretch is achy, but the weight and girth of his cock rubs against every goddamn nerve you have. Even though it feels as though he’s splitting you in two, you still find your hips rocking insistently against him, mewling at the sensation.
“Oh honey, you been practicing?” Jake grunts, his sharp canines dragging along the side of your throat. “Goddamn, look at you. Sucking me right into you, aren’tcha? Look, baby, you seeing this?”
“I see.” Neytiri hums, still playing with your clit. She shoots you another smile, before leaning in and kissing at your tits again. “So soft, syulang. So lovely. Doing so well, yawne.”
“Fuck,” Jake groans as he watches his wife touch your tits and marvel at how soft they are. “That’s hot.”
“Go faster.” You whine, tilting your head back to rest against Jake’s shoulder. “Fuck me properly, I can take it, I promise–”
Jake chokes out a laugh, and pulls your back tight against his stomach as his dick grinds deep inside of you, stealing your breath and promptly shutting you up. The moan that’s torn from you is absolutely filthy, your cunt fluttering around him as you fight to take him in, every nerve firing as Neytiri suckles at your breasts.
“Shhh, just take what I give you, gorgeous. Feels like you’re gonna squeeze my cock off. So fucking tight, mama, goddamn–”
You try to lift yourself up, determined to ride him, to take some kind of control over the pace, but Jake holds your hips tight to keep you exactly where he wants you.
It’s so frustrating, because you’re so desperate for more. You know you can take it, you’ve been fucking your fingers just imagining this for days now, gradually stretching yourself out, and Neytiri has already ensured that you’re good and ready for this. You feel like you’re going to lose your mind if Jake doesn’t just fuck you properly already.
Neytiri’s tongue rolls around your nipple, pulling a soft whine out of your throat, before she releases your titty and kisses her way up your neck, pausing by your ear.
“He can be mean, can’t he, pretty girl?” Neytiri whispers in your ear, her voice all teasing and playful. “You musn’t let him tease you. Take what you want. Do you want me to show you how?”
You nod, your mouth dropped open as you pant, your stomach fluttering in excitement.
Neytiri gives you a sharp, hungry smile, before pushing herself to her feet once more. You crane your head back to watch her, your breathing picking up. You must have missed her taking off her loincloth, but now she’s entirely naked in front of you. Your eyes trace over her small but firm breasts, her toned belly, the impressive musculature of her legs, the pretty curve of her pussy. The beautiful bioluminescent freckles all over her jewel-blue body twinkle in the dim artificial light of your quarters, and your mouth goes dry as you’re seized with the desire to trace them with your tongue.
But she’s already climbing onto your rickety bed, and shoving roughly at Jake’s chest. He lets out a low, wanting sound, and lets her push him flat. Now that he’s laying flat on your bed, Neytiri coaxes you to turn – you have to bite back your laughter as you spin around on Jake’s dick so that you’re facing him, and you can see the way he’s clearly fighting his own snickers too.
But Jake never gets to make a joke about the way you just spun around on his dick like a top, because Neytiri swings her leg over his head and straddles his face as though it’s nothing, her body facing you as she simply sits down.
“Ah,” She moans, her eyelids fluttering as she grinds herself against Jake’s mouth. “He talks so much, doesn’t he, syulang?”
You wheeze a laugh, hardly able to believe this is happening. Jake does talk a lot, but he seems very happy to be forced into silence like this judging by the way his cock is twitching inside you. His groans are muffled but no less pleased, one hand coming up to wrap around Neytiri’s thigh and encourage her to rock into his mouth.
Neytiri lets out a soft pleasured sound, before raising her eyes back to you. Her smile is lazy, her eyes half-closed as she relishes the feeling of Jake’s mouth against her pussy. She reaches out and takes one of your hands, intertwining your fingers before she leans forward and kisses you so sweetly.
“Go ahead and move how you want to, tawtute.” She whispers, her tongue gliding over your lower lip.
You mewl a little, but do as she says. You place a hand firmly on Jake’s belly for balance, before lifting yourself on shaky knees and dropping back down again. You groan at the feeling, and in the same moment Jake’s hips rock up into you and his belly visibly tightens. His obvious pleasure buoys your confidence, and you do it again.
Your thighs burn – Jake’s cock is long, and you have to lift yourself higher than you’re used to in order to ride him properly. But it’s a challenge you’re willing to take because even though the stretch of him burns, it feels delicious. You feel drunk on it, your mouth falling open as tears over overstimulation begin to leak from the corners of your eyes.
Neytiri watches you through her half-lidded golden eyes, a lazy smile pulling at her lips as her tails sways in the air behind her. One of her hands is squeezing absently at her tits, the other holding your hand tight as the two of you rock against Jake.
"Hah," You gasp out as you involuntarily squeeze around the girth of his cock. “Ah… oh god, I’m…”
“How does it feel, syulang?” Neytiri breathes, watching the way your hips undulate over Jake’s stupidly big cock, trying to get it to hit just right.
“Feels– shit, so big, but so good–” You sob, overwhelmed yet so needy. Your legs are tiring already, thighs burning as you grind against him. “Want him to move–”
Neytiri hums, before reaching out and smacking at Jake’s hip. He groans into her cunt, the slick sounds of his mouth against her enough to heat your cheeks up, but he gets the message loud and clear because his hips jolt into action.
Each thrust shakes your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Jake’s hips thrust up, fucking you from below. Your pussy is drenched, aiding the lube he had soaked his cock as he glides in and out of you effortlessly, your body opening up for him as though you had been born for this.
His cock reaches something within you that has a sob ripping from your throat, your head tossing back as you wail towards the ceiling.
"Oh my god," You cry out, his cock spearing into you and hitting that spot with precision over and over again, "Fuuuck."
“Is that how you like it, yawntu?” Neytiri breathes. She’s getting close herself; you can tell by the jagged rhythm of her hips as she humps against Jake’s face, and the wide blackness of her pupils.
“Uh huh, yes!” You whine, your vision blurring. It feels like your body is drawing tense as a bowstring, your toes curling so hard it almost hurts.
You’re not sure if Jake can actually hear you or not, considering Neytiri’s thighs are closed tight around his ears, but the hand that isn’t holding onto her leg travels down to your hip and holds you tight. His thumb strokes over the swell of your ass even as he encourages you to rock against him. All you can do is grind against him every time his hips piston up, the thick swell of his cock settling so deep inside of you it feels like it’s in your stomach.
Your pussy is already fluttering, your belly tightening as your rising orgasm begins to prickle at the edges of your body. Fuck, you already feel as though it’s about to shake you apart at the seams, like you’ll never feel whole again without the delicious stretch of Jake’s cock.
To your surprise, it’s Neytiri that comes first. She cries out, her big hand encompassing yours as her eyes roll, her head dropping forward to nestle into your neck as her body shakes apart.
Beneath her, Jake’s chest rumbles with a low purr of arousal as she comes all over his face – but he’s a man devoted to his mission, because he somehow manages to keep fucking into you all while he licks Neytiri through her own orgasm.
You’re actually quaking at this point, grinding yourself desperately on top of Jake as his hips thrust up into, the friction so damn good even though you can tell that he’s trying so hard to be careful with you. This particular position isn’t super conducive to your own pleasure, but being fucked like this while having such strong visual stimulation is nice – you can hardly tear your eyes away from Neytiri as her body goes lax, her eyelashes fluttering wildly as she humps lazily against Jake’s face to ride the last shivery shocks of her orgasm out.
God, it feels as though you’re never going to get over this. You feel as though your nerves are right on the edge of frying, your lungs and muscles burning and your skin slick with sweat as you rock and writhe wildly, taking a cue from Neytiri and seeking your own satisfaction. You can’t imagine ever feeling better than this; it feels as though you’re blooming under all of the attention that’s being lavished upon you.
Once Neytiri stops shaking, she takes a moment to just gasp for breath even as her hips roll slowly over Jake’s tongue. Slowly, she blinks back to herself, then her eyes fall back upon you. A slow, lazy smile spreads across her face, and then she’s reaching out to you all over again, her fingers landing on your clit to rub over it in a teasing circle.
Her long fingers barely brush the fraught nerves before ecstasy settles between each of your vertebrae. Your pussy flares, gripping onto the throbbing thickness of Jake’s cock. Shaking violently, your thighs squeeze Jake’s slim waist as everything tightens, pulses, spasms.
Overwhelmed, whimpering sort of wails pour from your lips in a deluge, your jaw is slack, the waves of ecstasy rendering you utterly helpless to the instinctual rutting motions of your hips. You're rocking up against him while simultaneously attempting to escape the sensation, choking out gasping moans as you fall apart.
You must tighten up like a vice when you come, because Jake yells out, his hips bucking. His shout is muffled by Neytiri’s pussy as you squeeze down on his dick, trembling.
The way your cunt constricts around him proves too much for Jake’s poor cock. You can feel the hot, thick spurts of cum as as he empties himself inside of you, his soft tummy twitching and trembling as his hips flex. You're exhausted, powerless to do anything other than bathe in the sensation of your cunt convulsing around Jake’s twitching cock as he shakes under you, moaning into Neytiri’s cunt as she grinds lazily on his tongue.
When your thighs finally stop trembling, your over-fatigued body starts to go limp. It feels as though your muscles have been liquefied, and you start to slump over a little. Neytiri seems to take sympathy on Jake, because she finally lifts herself off of Jake’s face in order to cup your face, kissing your cheeks and forehead.
Below you, Jake just groans, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe. He only takes a moment though before he starts slowly rocking his hips again, as though he’s just trying to fuck his cum deeper into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below.
“Oh my god.” You pant, your lungs overworked as you try to catch your breath. “Oh, holy fuck.”
Jake laughs, wheezy with his own disbelief. However wrecked you feel, Jake looks absolutely destroyed. His chest and stomach are glossy with sweat, his hips drenched in lube and your own release. His dreads are in disarray, his eyes hazy and a little dazed as his chest heaves. His mouth and nose are shiny slick too from both his own saliva and from Neytiri coming all over his face.
Despite his dishevelment, he looks impossibly pleased with himself as he fumbles for his respirator, taking clumsy breaths even as he smiles dopily to himself, his eyes glassy and unfocused.
Neytiri helps lift you off Jake’s dick, which you end up being extremely thankful for when you find that your knees are watery and weak. You try to pretend you don’t notice the sheer amount of come that’s leaking out of you, thick and a little iridescent in the artificial light of your quarters.
You’re so fucked out that you hardly even twitch when Neytiri pulls you back against her chest, settling comfortably back on the mattress beside Jake. You end up squished between them in a pile of sweaty slack limbs. You feel so tiny next to them, especially considering the two of them don’t even fit properly on the bed – their legs are hanging right off the mattress, their feet planted on the ground as they nuzzle against you and each other.
Now that all the adrenaline is wearing off, you can certainly feel the ache left behind from all of your activities, and the sting from the sheer stretch of Jake’s cock.
“Ow.” You mutter absently, though it comes out muffled as your face is currently squished against Neytiri’s firm breasts.
She coos at you, her big hand stroking over the back of your head before she reaches out to smack at Jake’s forehead. “You were too rough with her, skxawng–”
“I was not– ouch, damn!” Jake flinches back, ducking down and using you as a floppy sort of human shield. “Okay, okay. You alright, honey?”
“Mm. Tired.” You mumble. You feel like you’ve just had all the thoughts fucked right out of your head, because you can barely string a sentence together right now.
“I have balms back at home,” Neytiri ensures you, her lips dragging over your temple. “Where you should be.”
You manage a breathless sort of laugh, your toes curling at the sound of that. They’ve always invited you into their home, but you’ve always been a little worried about overstaying your welcome. Now, all wrapped up in their naked embrace in your little blissful post-coital puddle, you find yourself almost deliriously thrilled about going back home with them.
“You hurt?” Jake asks, his voice rasping pleasantly in your ear. It sends a pleasant tingle down your spine, but that disappears almost instantly as his big fingers prod at the oversensitive lips of your pussy.
“Ow! Fuck, Jake, what is wrong with you-” You grouse, slapping his hand away from you. “No, I’m fine, but I’m sensitive down there. I don’t need your fat fucking fingers poking inside of me again.”
“You loved my fat fucking fingers before.” He grumbles, but there’s a teasing edge to his voice as he places a tiny kiss on the back of your neck. “Neytiri’s too, huh?”
Your cheeks heat in embarrassment, but there’s no point denying that. You just grumble incomprehensibly, burrowing deeper into their arms. Jake snickers, shuffling closer so that he’s completely plastered against your back, his big arm wrapped around both you and Neytiri.
Neytiri hums, enjoying Jake’s arm around her as her own hand trails over the valley of your waist and hips. “No need for others, syulang. You have us, yes? We look after you.”
You breathe a weak laugh, but your answer is interrupted by an ominous creaking noise coming from beneath you. There’s a brief pause, and then an almighty crash as your rickety old bed breaks from the weight of the two full grown Na’vi bodies laying atop of it. You squeal, but there’s really no need because Jake and Neytiri hardly flinch at all. They just glance down as though the wreckage of your bedframe is nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
“Oh my god.” You squeak, sitting up to try and see the damage.
“Does not matter.” Neytiri says dismissively. She’s stretching out, her lithe body elongating as she yawns like a big cat. “You will just stay in our bed.”
There’s a pause. You nearly start laughing, though you manage to bite back your reaction. Oh god, you’ve just fucked your best friends. It feels as though Jake has managed to screw your braincells right out of your skull, because all you can do is gape at their big, sexy bodies like an absolute moron. Not only have you just fucked your friends, but they’re also clearly expecting you to come back home with them.
“Lie back down,” Jake murmurs, reaching out to beckon you back to their sides.
“I should shower,” You mumble, but you’re already laying back down. Your hips are sore from being stretched so wide, and you have no confidence that you’re actually able to stand without your knees buckling. “I feel gross.”
“Bathe with us back at the village.” Jake says immediately, his wide nose burying itself into the back of your neck. He breathes deeply, and his chest rumbles in a quiet purr. It sends soothing little reverberations down your spine, encouraging you to relax into his big body.
You have a feeling that he just wants you to walk around the village, stinking of the two of them. You also have a feeling that it’s the same reason behind Neytiri leaving all of those throbbing hickeys behind on your body wherever her mouth could reach, and you can’t fight the tired smile growing on your face. You’re too tired to argue, and just flop bonelessly between the two of them, enjoying your warmth. It’s so familiar, laying in their shared embrace. You’ve been doing this for years, although admittedly it’s usually with the rest of the family and you’re usually clothed, but it’s still comfortably domestic and intimate.
You suppose you’ll doze for a while, napping in wreckage of your shitty old bed in the pleasant afterglow of what was probably the best sex of your life. Jake and Neytiri have burrowed so deep into your life, your mind, your body, that everything feels so bizarrely natural with them.
You won’t sleep long, you think as you cuddle up against Neytiri’s smooth skin, with Jake’s bulk curling around your back. Dinner will be soon, and you’re hungry.
Series Masterlist | part 1 part 2 part 3 (coming soon) + jjk masterlist
summary: you realize you’ve bit off more than you can chew the moment the campus frat legend sukuna asks you to come up to his room. you've talked a big game all night, but what happens when he finds out it’s your first time?
18+ content: fratboy sukuna x virgin reader, out of character sukuna, smut, loss of virginity, lots of fluff, minimal hurt + lots of comfort, cunnilingus, flirting, fingering, blowjobs. 4.6k wc
a/n: art by hunnismoker on twt!
“woah—hey! seminar!”
you’d recognize that unruly head of pink hair anywhere. perpetually fastened underneath a ballcap like always.
you turn a little faster than you should, jostling the plastic solo cup you’ve been curled into for the past hour. sukuna looks right at home, backwards hat on like always, sweatpants slung low and easy on his hips now that you think about it, wasn’t this his frat house?
he waltzes into the kitchen and circles the island to lean next to you, hip against cold granite. his cologne must be doing something to the nerve endings in your brain, because all that comes out of you is a quiet, painfully deadpanned:
“…what?”
he laughs, nose crinkling in that sexy way you definitely haven’t thought about every day for the past 3 months. you’re barely given time to respond before a tattooed hand reaches forward and plucks the cup from your clammy hand, downing the last of whatever cheap liquor you were too nervous to finish anyway.
you watch, awestruck like a deer in headlights. taking in the way his throat bobs when he swallows. how he wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb, sucking a stray drop of from the pad of his thumb.
“fuck, you drink fireball? didn’t think you’d be the type.” he jests.
was he flirting with you?
sukuna chucks the cup somewhere to the side. probably somewhere near a garbage can. not that you can tell with how many people are crowding the kitchen.
“so.” sukuna says, looking back at you expectantly, “we have senior seminar together, yeah?” he smiles, head tilting to the side like he’s trying to get a read on you.
right, the class he couldn’t care less about. you’ve seen him look up from his phone and engage with the topic, what, maybe twice? it’s a miracle he even recognizes you.
“i remember you, don’t worry.” you laugh, leaning back and forth on the balls of your feet as you desperately rack your brain for a way to keep the conversation going.
of course you remember him. you sit next to each other. you’ve scrolled marathons through his instagram page in the privacy of your room. hell, you’ve spent so much time thinking about him that you’d probably be able to pick his biceps out of a lineup. “remember” doesn’t begin to describe it.
sukuna speaks up again, mouth curling at the side like he’s got something up his sleeve. he gives you a quick once over, arms crossed over his chest casually.
“you look good tonight. enjoying yourself?” he’s not subtle in the slightest, red eyes scanning your figure, committing every inch of you to memory. the thought alone feels filthy. like tree sap settling in the pit of your stomach.
you must’ve unknowingly done something worthy of sainthood this semester. that’s the only explanation as to why the campus frat legend is eyeing you like he wants to eat you alive and lick his fingers clean after.
you don’t even care that he’s probably pulling out the same five tricks he’d use on any other girl. you’re falling faster than you ever have.
you make a mental note to thank shoko profusely for convincing you to socialize tonight. she’d given it to you straight like always, something about being tired of you complaining about your glaring lack of a roster. encouraging you to maybe go out and actually fuck a guy instead of settling for getting fingered by some loser like you always did.
senior year was supposed to be memorable after all.
“do you even know my name?” you mumble shyly, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.
sukuna pretends to rack his mind for an answer. tongue pressed against his cheek in a way that makes your breath catch.
your name rolls of his tongue beautifully, punctuated with that fangy smile you’ve daydreamed about. he says it like he’s recited it a million times. like the very existence of you on his tongue is second nature.
wow. ok. you might’ve misjudged his attention to detail.
sukuna must notice the surprised look on your face because he leans in a little closer. just enough for you to feel the heat radiating off his body.
“are you gonna answer my question?” he asks you.
right, if you were enjoying yourself. you try to think of something witty to say, painful aware of how intently he’s looking at you. the attention feels so sudden. he was never this forward in class, why come up to you now?
sukuna’s eyes never leave your face, watching, craving.
“honestly? yeah, i’m having a great time.” you settle for some simple honesty. somewhere in the background the incessant thump of a bluetooth speaker fades the more the scent of his cologne fills your lungs.
“what about you?” you ask.
sukuna pauses, eyes flitting over the crowd like he’s debating whether or not he can actually say what’s really on his mind.
his jaw flexes, fingers drumming against the counter to the beat of whatever song is playing.
he looks back over at you when he finally makes up his mind, gauging your reaction with a sly look in his eyes. thank god he can’t physically see the way your core flutters around nothing. you’re already too conscious of the sticky flush collecting in the gusset of your panties.
“i mean..." there's a playful tilt to his voice, his words steeped in mischief.
"usually i’d be upstairs by now having some fun.”
sukuna sighs, eyes glued to the swell of your lips.
“but, y’know, i get it. with finals week coming up. not a lot of fun to be had if no one else is looking for it.”
his voice trails off as soon as his eyes lock onto your lips. mumbling the last bits of the sentence like his mind is elsewhere. wanting.
something hangs heavy in the air between the two of you, something he hasn't said directly just yet.
fun. the implication of the word isn’t lost on you in the slightest. sukuna was a decent guy all around, maybe even an acquaintance now, but you’ve heard the way girls talk about him around campus.
lack of experience aside, you’d have to be an idiot to fool around with a guy like him. one that treats college like a fuckfest and sweet talks anything with a pulse. did you really want ryomen sukuna of all people to be your first?
“i can be fun.”
maybe you are an idiot after all. because the speed those four words leave you is absolutely unparalleled.
in your defense, you can barely think straight as is. not with how close he is to you now, mouth curling up into the tiniest smile. and especially not with how satisfied he looks with himself.
“yeah?” sukuna’s pupils are two black voids, waiting for you to confirm your little unspoken agreement.
suddenly everything you’re feeling in your lower half makes sense, because the intrigue in his voice is something you’d literally pay money to hear again. you needed him bad.
“wanna find out?” you ask, more confident this time. technically not a bogus offer. you’ve done almost everything leading up to the deed. how hard could going all the way be?
—
sukuna’s room is a world of its own. tucked just upstairs and to the left of the beer can littered stairwell he’d made a beeline for as soon as you'd given him the green light. he weaves the both of you through the dwindling crowd, hand around your waist like you belong to him. in a way, you already do.
it's like the world around you ceases to exist as soon as his door locks and your back hits his bed. you're hyperaware and not aware of anything all at the same time. honed in on the way he toes his sneakers off and clambers onto the mattress atop you, hands running up the length of your body before diving to claim your lips.
you've made out before, sure, but never quite like this. never so passionately, in the way that makes your thighs clench and your core shake. sukuna licks into your mouth with desperation you never would have expected. like your tongue is his salvation.
“pretty girl, y’know that?” he mumbles into your mouth. "gonna fuck you good."
the compliment pulls the sweetest little whine out of you, and sukuna grins against your lips like he's won a prize.
touching you isn’t what turns him on most, you realize. it’s not the feeling of your arms wrapped around his neck, or the incessant press of your clothed centers. it’s the reactions you give him. those tiny huffs of breath against his mouth that let him know you need him. how you lean in close and pepper kisses down his throat just so he won’t see you blush. it’s all pure magic to him.
you're nervous in the best way, slipping your hands under the thin fabric of his wifebeater to feel up his abs. something about him just melts your brain. his scent, how warm he is, how he kneads your body like dough.
most importantly, this sex stuff was a cakewalk so far.
"off?" you plead, pushing his shirt up and over his shoulders like its somehow offended you, and sukuna laughs, hard and heavy.
"what, can't wait?" you he’s only asking to see you writhe, cocky little grin on his face and everything. you nod, and sukuna laughs, running his thumb over your bottom lip.
you must be too honed in on his lower half, because you don’t realize he’s taken off his hat to undress until he fastens it backwards right onto your head.
“hold that for me.” he says, shucking his shirt off and to the side with a grunt.
you didn’t expect this whole ordeal to feel so intimate. for him to lay you down against his pillows and kneel. wearing his hat while you watch him strip down to his boxers, the party still raging downstairs.
sukuna looks so much different like this. softened around the edges by the messy pink fringe that falls right above his eyes. you think you quite like the way the tattoos under his eyes crease when he looks back at you and smiles.
you wonder how many girls have seen him like this. if any of them appreciated the way the moonlight peeking through the shades illuminates the black lines on his body the way you do. or how pink his lips are after he’s been kissed.
something inside tugs at you when he reaches forward to take his hat back.
“keep it off.” you sit up, slipping it off your head to toss it onto his nightstand.
he pauses, like his brain is still trying to register what you've just told him.
“but the hat stays on when i fuck.” sukuna fake pouts. “that’s like my whole thing.”
“leave it.” you urge. "you look nice with your hair down."
sukuna’s face softens the slightest bit. he almost looks embarrassed. like the compliment isn’t something he gets told often.
“don't make me blush” he teases, hugging your middle to bring you back down to the pillows with him.
your own shirt is next to go, chucked over his tattooed shoulder to reveal the soft swell of your breasts.
“fuck, where’ve you been hiding all this?” sukuna breathes. awestruck like he hadn't been staring at them all night.
his attention is completely addictive. the more sukuna touches you, the more you start to understand the droves of girl you see hanging off his arm every weekend. groveling for his acknowledgment in any capacity.
you’d do a whole lot more than grovel if it meant he’d keep massaging you through your bra like he is now. you‘be never wanted anyone quite this bad like you do now. mind, body, and soul.
your bottom layers go next, lost to the abyss that is his floor. sukuna takes a moment to turn your panties over in his hand.
"cute." he laughs.
you half expect him to throw them on the ground as well, maybe stuff them under his pillow or something. except, sukuna does neither. instead, the garment joins his hat on the nightstand. situated amongst his things like they've always belonged there.
you'd let him keep them if he asked.
that’s when the gravity of it all really sets in. you’re naked as the day you were born, laid up underneath the hottest guy you’ve ever had the pleasure of viewing. and all he can do is look at you like you’re the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen.
sukuna whistles, low and slow, hand on your knee to part your legs.
“god, that’s a sight isn’t it. pretty down here too.” the bass in his voice practically makes your eyes flutter. that anxious feeling in your tummy slowly starts to dissipate as you spread yourself wider, morphing into something sappy nestled right at your entrance.
it’s almost humiliating feeling how wet you are, but sukuna doesn’t seem to mind at all, sauntering onto his stomach tongue-first like some sort of horny olympic diver.
his tongue hits you first, licking thick stripes from your hole to your clit. he parts you with a thumb on either side of your heat, not at all minding the way you pull at his locks.
sukuna was a lot of things. charming, outgoing, sometimes even vulgar. but one thing you’ve learned just in the last 10 minutes of lying atop his sheets is that he is anything but a selfish lover.
his fingers are a welcome intrusion. thicker than yours in a way that makes your head feel loose. the stretch only stings for a second, hotwiring the cogs in your lower stomach like a well oiled machine.
“fuck, you're tight. needy little thing.” he mumbles, pulling the digit out and bringing it to his mouth to suck your mess clean, then diving right back in.
it must kill him. hearing you, tasting you. wanting so badly to relieve himself but wanting to make you feel good even more.
he takes his time fingering you open, feeling up your slick walls until he finds that special little spot only the toys under your bed can reach.
you’re inconsolable, panting and groaning into the crook of your elbow while he rocks your entire world up, down, and sideways. you’ve never felt pleasure so blinding.
you go to say something, anything to let him know how fucking good he’s making you feel, but something else catches your eye instead.
the slightest movement of his hips, so quick you nearly miss it. then another, and another. his hips drive down, then back, pulling a shaky groan from the depths of his chest.
“are you humping the mattress?” you breathe.
a chuckle is all he gives you, nodding his head between your legs in a way that says “yeah, so what?” sukuna sucks your clit into his mouth for good measure, shoulders shaking at the near pornographic moan that escapes your lips.
"toji's room is right next door, you know. better keep it down." he laughs from between your legs.
right. the meathead you saw downstairs licking fireball off the floor on a dare. real classy guy.
you swat at him lightly when he comes up from your pussy, accepting the sticky kiss he presses to your lips.
he motions for you to sit up, and you do, following his lead. sukuna slinks in behind you, sitting up against his rickety headboard to shuck his boxers down with a huff.
“holy shit.”
you couldn’t have stopped yourself from reacting if you tried.
sukuna was thick. thicker than any toy under your bed or any of the half-chub losers you’ve fooled around with during the past four years here. long, flushed, and heavy. pre beading at his tip just aching to be licked off.
he shakes his head fondly at your lack of a filter, widening his legs so you can settle on your stomach between them. sukuna feeds you his cock with a loose grip at the base, throwing his head back with a groan as soon as your tongue meets his flesh.
you could very well get addicted to the taste of him. that salty tang that coats your taste buds and settles at the back of your throat.
five thick fingers sit at the base of your skull, gripping the back of your neck to guide you down as far as you can handle. it takes a couple tries, but you finally feel your nose rub up against the patch of pink hair at his base, earning a hearty groan from the man above you..
you’re not a pro at sucking dick by any means, but the sounds sukuna makes would have anyone thinking otherwise. long, gravelly moans. radiating right from within his chest and up to his ceiling.
"fuck, fuck hold on." he begs, letting his head fall forward with a shiver. you slowly ease his cock from your lips and look up at him expectantly.
sukuna squeezes the base of his dick with a huff. no doubt trying to starve off his orgasm. he looks up at you through his fringe with that same fangy smile you love.
“how do you want it?” he asks you, wiping the spit from the corner of your mouth.
right. the main course. full blown sex.
you suppose on your back would be best. comfortable, safe. you let him guide you back down onto the pillows and offer yourself up to him, feeling your stomach twist in on itself as he rolls a condom on and lines himself up with your entrance.
sukuna ruts his hips forward only slightly. not enough to breach but close enough for your fold to part around his tip.
"holy-"
you immediately lock up, joints stiff with adrenaline. the sensation is so foreign, thicker and hotter than anything you've ever felt.
“what?, don’t get shy on me now.” he drawls, tattoos straining against his lazy grin. “not after all that talk earlier.”
“waitwaitwait.” you hiss, pawing at his shoulder with a shaky hand. “oh my god—hold on.”
sukuna’s hips retreat, taking a bit of your anxiety with them. there’s a softness in his eyes, almost guilty in nature.
“you okay?"
you say nothing, trying to piece together the 3 words you probably should've uttered a long time ago.
“want me to eat you out a little more?”
“no, sorry, it’s not that.” you clarify, cutting him off at the last syllable. the way it comes out makes you cringe.
the room suddenly feels a lot smaller than it did before. sukuna searches your face for an answer, silently pleading with the furrow between his brows.
"i've never done this beofre."
you prepare to watch the expression on his face melt into something nasty. to maybe hear something laced with pity leave his lips before he tells you to get dressed and get out, but it doesn’t come.
instead, sukuna’s expression softens, red eyes melting around the edges as he looks down at your shivering, naked form.
“yeah?” the way he says it is so quiet, so cautious. not at all like the outspoken boy you thought you knew.
you nod, fingers curling around his bicep uncertainly.
sukuna reaches to take that same hand, pressing a fleeting kiss to the inside of your wrist. his gentleness almost feels unbecoming. so out of character compared to the stories you’ve heard each semester. but not at all unlike the charismatic guy you’d come to know tonight.
maybe you didn’t really know the real sukuna after all.
“do you..? or— i could teach you. or we could stop. i can walk you home.” his tongue flits over your wrist, soothing the hammering pulse point there.
you ponder his offer for a moment, eyes transfixed on the way he mouths at your delicate skin.
“you don’t think it’s weird?” you mumble.
sukuna presses his tongue against his teeth, voice dropping the slightest bit like he really shouldn’t be saying what comes out of his mouth next.
“I think i’m kinda into that stuff.” he admits, chuckling like it’ll somehow ease the awkward air. “kinda… maybe guessed downstairs that you were kinda shy? i donno. made me wanna talk to you.”
your eyebrows nearly touch your hairline at his confession, embarrassment flooding you from head to toe.
“you could tell?”
“i mean, i figured the silent girl from class probably wouldn't have too many nights under her belt.” he jokes, charming as ever. you don’t take any offense to it.
sukuna must sense the thoughts flying through your mind because he stops, taking your face in both of his tattooed hands in a way that sets your chest on fire.
“it’s whatever you want, okay?.” and the little smile he gives you is so devastatingly reassuring, that you all but make up your mind right then and there.
“i wanna keep going.” you whisper, leaning forward in a brazen display of confidence to seal your lips to his.
sukuna must be taken aback by your forwardness, because he doesn’t melt into the kiss immediately. instead, his hands trail over your hips, getting a proper grip on your body before he’s pressing you into the mattress and licking into your mouth.
he almost tastes better this way, like grenadine and the remnants of a cigarette. the party rages on below you, drowning out the little whimpers that escape your lips every time sukuna kneads the sensitive swell of your breasts with his rough hands.
he lets you get used to the stretch this time, easing his hips back and forth in little strokes to get you used to the motion.
it doesn’t feel great at first, being fucked open at the center by something large enough to rival the width of your wrist. but soon enough, the discomfort fades into something different.
something filthy, nestled right in the deepest pit of your center. blooming out and upwards until your whole body feels like its on fire.
“oh my god.” you whimper, realizing you’ve taken him to the hilt. you're so full that your chest starts to feel tight. like there isn't possibly enough room inside of you to fit all the pleasure building in your core.
sukuna’s must adore the noises you're making for him, because his cock twitches right against that little spot from earlier.
“yeah? want me to move?” he purrs.
never in a million years did you think he’d be this intimate. this gentle, coaxing you open with his dick as softly as he can muster, and loving every bit of it.
“pleasepleaseplease oh god.” you moan, grasping onto his shoulders to prepare yourself for the onslaught of sensations that hit you when he speeds up.
you’re so wet you can’t even feel the friction of his heavy cock against your walls anymore. just the smooth, effortless glide of his length and the occasional, devastatingly good, bump of his tip against your g-spot.
you could die happy like this, legs spread to accommodate every inch of his sculpted body, watching the sweat collect in the ridges between his abs. listening to him pant praises against your lips in between heated kisses.
"could fuck you for the rest of my life." he growls.
and if that wasn’t enough, the finishing blow follows.
“i only come to class to see you, baby. only show up to see that pretty face.”
a broken whimper of his name is all you’re able to force out before you’re sent plummeting over the edge.
you cum with a stifled whimper, arms wrapped around his neck like he’ll up and float away if you let go. the pressure between your legs is insane, peaking and crashing down like an array of fireworks.
sukuna follows almost immediately, pulling out to shoot his load over your mound and lower tummy with a string of expletives and praise.
you silently thank the powers that be for whatever odd stroke of fate that brought you two together tonight.
“feeling good?” he flops on his side next to you, head propped up on his hand while he tenderly looks over your body.
“feeling amazing.”
“mmm, hoped you’d say that.” he laughs. still high on adrenaline.
the room suddenly feels a lot larger than it did before. a lot louder too without the sounds of your shared pleasure muffling the party below. you wonder what you're supposed to do now that you've... sufficiently had your fun. should you ask for a towel? should you just redress and deal with it all later?
sukuna opens his mouth like he wants to say something, then snaps back to attention.
"shit.. towel." he mumbles, slinking off the mattress to toe around the moat of your shared belongings on the ground.
"here." he tosses you the tank top he'd been wearing earlier, flopping back down on the mattress with you. you stand to dab the mess from your body and toss the garment in his hamper before pulling your undergarments back on.
"do you w-" he starts
"i should g-"
sukuna lifts his head from the pillows, hand coming up to stroke over the back of your head.
"you first."
"do you want me to leave?"
"do you want to leave?" he asks.
"no."
"then don't." he states plainly, already sorting through the mess on the floor to pull on his boxers. humming a tune under his breath like its the most routine thing in the world.
in a way, you guess it is. for him at least. you couldn't figure out what to do right now even if you tried.
"you said you noticed i was shy in class?" it comes out more like a statement than a question.
"noticed a lot of things about you." he whispers. you feel your stomach jump. half anticipation half need.
"why only come up to me today?"
sukuna sighs, like the topic itself is something that’s weighing heavy on his mind.
"didn't think you'd give me the time of day." he almost sounds shy to admit it. "thought i might as well when I saw you in the kitchen. didn't wanna graduate without giving it a shot."
something in your chest unravels softly at that. you feel at ease now, more confident in your bearings.
"can we do this more? get to know each other better?" you don’t even know where the question comes from, never mind how you garner the confidence to ask it.
you see his brows raise just the slightest bit, crimson eyes widening.
“or. sorry- i know you have…” your mind flits back to the image of him practically drowning in female attention. you probably sounded ridiculous right now.
you gesture vaguely in front of you, trying to phrase what you’re about to say as respectfully as possible. sukuna pulls you closer.
“…other contenders.”
sukuna hums thoughtfully, like he’s already made his mind up.
"i'm sure they'd live without me.”
without him. like, in the complete absence of him. your mind finally registers what exactly he’s saying.
just you and him. this. more than just a one night stand.
you try to respond but quickly startle at the sound of three heavy raps against the door.
"is she gone? did you get her number?" a gravely voice asks, barely audible above the music.
“toji can you fuck off for like twenty more minutes?” sukuna’s not asking.
“god, fuck.” he groans softly, wiping both hands down the front of his face like it’ll somehow rid him of his humiliation.
you wait for the heavy footsteps at the door to retreat, and lean in to press a kiss to sukuna’s forehead.
“wanna get lunch tomorrow?”
shoko was going to die during your debrief tomorrow morning.
do not translate my fics, republish them on other social media, or feed them to ai
Summary: After rescuing you from the RDA, So’lek is forced to fight instincts he can’t afford to lose control of.
Disclaimer: I haven’t played AFOP (yet) so forgive me if things aren’t as…cannon so to speak. But @zestys-stuff and I have been brain rotting over So’lek non-fucking-stop. He’s lowkey so Ralak coded, but obviously very different in his own way. I hope I do him justice honestly. Yes, this is a collab (we have been blessed), and the illustrations created by this amazing and talented artist — @zestys-stuff — will be linked!
Content Warning: smut, !MDNI!, drugging (?), physical violence, murder/death (lightly described), an ungodly amount of sexual tension, age gap (reader’s around 20 & he’s almost 40), power dynamics, heat cycle, scenting, blowjob, gagging, forced proximity, dubcon, cliffhanger I’m so sorry
Author’s Note: Guysss. When I tell you how excited I was to do this collab with zee…i’ve been feral this entire time. Y’ALL THE ART IS INSANE. I stare at it regularly before bed. Jesus, help me. Anyways, this man is my new fixation. My new obsession, if you will. Naturally when I have a new one of those my immediate reaction is to write a heat/rut fic. So yes, there will be a part two to this, and possibly more.
W/C: 7k
You never gave it much thought. Being bait, that is. You’ve been everything up until this point—a pawn in this sick war, a subject for their experiments, a punching bag for their anger, an object with no value other than the war machine they could train you to be.
But bait? That’s a new one.
They like to call him the ‘Dog Tag Warrior’. That’s the name they’ve been using while you’ve been imprisoned between four glass walls, confined to a metal bench by chains that grow heavier by the minute. Days pass by like a thief in the night—silent, unknowable. With no windows, there’s no way to tell if it's night or day—to see what the great mother has created. No reminder of life or hope.
What’s worse is that every so often one or two of the pink skinned storm inside with their assault rifles and handguns concealed in their boots, threatening you in an attempt to drive fear into your heart. But no matter how much they torture you, whatever the punishment inflicted, the pain doesn’t come close to what you feel when they speak of him.
And your biggest mistake is letting them figure that out.
“I should’ve blown off his head while I had him.” The male shouts angrily, huffing as his loud footsteps pace up and down the concrete floor.
You keep your gaze fixed to your bruised ankles as your heart pounds from the terrifying, yet oddly comforting, confirmation that So’lek is alive. You can’t allow them to see your fear.
No fear, Sarentu, is what he’d say.
“Then next time, don’t fuck around.” A rough female voice. Next time? “You’re lucky you still have your tag, corporal.”
Your ears flick towards the distinct sound of metal and glass dinging together. You’ve heard this before—the sound alone is enough to bring you back many years ago, to the experiments, to the trauma you endured in TAP.
You peek up through your lashes, careful not to make any sudden movements, and see her holding a familiar large, glass syringe a foot away from her face. She flicks the tip with her middle finger until some thick liquid spurts out.
What are they going to do to you now?
“We’re just gonna have to treat these fuckers like the animals they really are.” She says in a sick, twisted tone. “Let’s see how long he can hold out after he gets a whiff of her.”
The male’s finger settles on his trigger as he moves in front of her, towards the door to your enclosure. Your chains drag against the concrete beneath you as you ready your stance. If you could manage to take the gun from the male, you could get out of here.
You could find So’lek.
The plan comes to you quickly. Once they’re close enough, you go for the male's mask, then take his gun and shoot the female.
Easy, right? So’lek’s voice echoes in your head.
You watch intently as his hand swipes across the biometric reader, causing the seal on the thick, reinforced door to break. Human air gusts in and the pressure in the room changes, briefly disorienting you. Before you can focus, the male aims, pulls the trigger and you feel the impact in your chest.
The room spins and you look down to see a bright feathered dart lodged into your right breast. You’ve never seen that before. Suddenly, you have to command your lungs to work, your eyes to stay open—your heart to keep beating. But despite it all, you feel yourself slipping away, vision blurring, sounds muffling together.
Is this death?
“What…What is this?” You slur your words as you reach for the dart, only for the female to slap your hand away.
She leans in, her face level with yours—her head impossibly large, her body impossibly small—and thrusts the needle into your thigh. You wince, just barely, trying to maintain what dignity you have left as you inhale, then exhale, and inhale again.
“Ah—d-don’t…touch—What are you…w-what the fuck…is that?” Your low voice echoes in your ears, your vision splitting into two.
“They said it’ll take effect in about two hours.” She speaks with feigned innocence, emptying the syringe into your spasming, burning muscle, “but we just don’t have that kinda time.” She withdraws the needle from you and steps back as your head lulls side to side. “So I gave her double.”
“Fuck you.” You garble the incoherent words, commanding every muscle in your body to stay upright, to keep your chin up.
“Brutal.” The male chuckles, his vile, pink hand laying softly against your cheek. “Such a shame, she really is a pretty thing.”
A hiss erupts from your throat, only to sound weak and small. Your body feels like dead weight, as heavy as these chains, dragging you down. You can’t move, you can’t get up.
“Tranq her.” She gives the order, using her scrawny finger to shove your swaying frame until you make contact with the floor.
“Are you sure? Didn’t they say one is enough?”
“And what? You want to keep her awake enough so she can be your personal toy when we’re finished with her? I said tranq her, Corporal. That’s an order.”
Another silent shot and your eyes roll to the back of your head.
“Good. Load her in.”
–
So’lek has been tracking you down for what feels like months. After a close call with the RDA that left him wounded, he was able to get a good idea of your location from scent alone. He wasn’t going to let anything, not even his own injuries, stop him from finding you.
Branches whip past him as he prowls through the forest, his bare feet making harsh impact with the flora beneath him. Every dash, every step is precise, measured. He’s been tracking your scent for a little over an hour now, yet it’s leading him off course. Why does your scent become almost overwhelming the deeper he goes into the forest? His pace lags when the realization dawns on him.
They’ve moved you.
But why?
He takes a moment to think, to calculate. To make sense of it all. Why would they relocate you? To throw him off? Is this a decoy? What if you aren’t really there? But, what if you are? He won’t take that chance. Your scent is too strong. You must be there.
So, how could they have acted so quickly? That means there’s less time than he thought. He scowls, frustrated, conflicted. It’s a trap. Exactly what kind of trap, he’s unsure. But it’s one that requires you to be bait. Just the thought ignites a fire inside him. You, out here, possibly alone, injured and weak.
Easy prey for a hungry predator.
So’lek won’t allow it. He quickly weighs his options—track your scent into a potential trap, or abandon the mission to regroup. What else can he do? He can’t gather his thoughts, he’s overwhelmed. Your scent is blinding—it’s grown stronger and he’s barely moved. You need him, he senses this in a way he’s never been able to before. He breathes you in, filling his lungs to capacity, letting himself have this one thing, just for this one second.
There is no choice.
So’lek wastes no more time, making quick, tactical strides in the direction of your scent. The horrifying, looping thought of what they’ve done to you, or worse, doing to you, drives his feet forward. He’s crouched low, keeping out of sight, camouflaging himself as best he can. He has to approach this perfectly, he can’t afford to make a mistake. He won’t. Not when you’re involved.
When his nostrils almost burn from the scent of you, he slows his tracks once more, observing, plotting. Silent, and lethal. He counts at least ten RDA troops, scattered sporadically amongst the trees. No, never sporadically. They’re in position. He stalks through the shadows of the approaching eclipse, recounting and revising. They’re surrounding a clearing, which is suspiciously empty. It takes a moment for his eyes to focus.
Then he sees you.
Oh. You. Naked. With what looks to be a strange, miniature arrow—a dart, impaled into your breast. Your head and body slump forward, arms limp behind you, bound to the tree. The flame inside him roars. You look dead, but your welling scent and heaving chest tell him otherwise.
These pink skinned will pay, he thinks as he decides who will die first, and who will follow in what particular order.
He unsheathes his knife, preparing for the most meticulous, silent melee of his life. He swallows, forcing himself to regain focus, to chase the lingering, savoury taste of you from his tongue. It’s imperative he isn’t distracted.
Is that a part of their plan?
Focus.
He makes his first kill. Clean, and silent. But not satisfactory enough. The fire inside him is hungry for more. He moves quickly onto the next, cutting deeper for his Sarentu. He takes special pride and joy in killing your foes. He steals a glance at you and notices your ankles, how the shackles have eaten away at your supple skin. He snaps another thin neck like a twig—easy. His inner fire flares, pleased with the sacrifice.
But it’s never truly satiated.
So’lek moves on to the next offering, smothering him as he pins him to the ground, watching as he writhes. He doesn’t look away as the struggle fades. The flame curls, pleased, and despite himself, a grim satisfaction pulls at his lips. This is the part that he can’t always fully control. The part where the fire consumes him, too.
It’s when he’s most dangerous. Most distracted.
But for you, it’s almost natural. It’s like a switch flipping. One second he’s here, and the next, he’s somewhere far away. An observer in his own body, watching himself finish off the next six soldiers in a blur of violence and pure instinct.
It’s not the hushed sound of the shot, no, it’s the heat pooling in his shoulder that brings him back momentarily. The same bright feathered dart, comically tiny in comparison to his arm, lodged in his upper bicep. A menacing growl rumbles from his chest as he looks in the direction of where it fired from. In the shadows, the silhouette of a metal suit stands in front of him, in front of you.
Wrong bullet of choice.
So’lek plucks the dart from his arm, his two fingers effortlessly snapping and crushing the frail glass into mere fragments. The metal suit immediately fires another dart straight into his chest. So’lek pants, his ears flickering as he releases a guttural hiss, heated by the flame itself, before he pounces on his prey, unleashing the rest of his wrath. By the end of it, all that’s left is unrecognizable.
All except for you.
So’lek’s vision clears once he sees you again, granting himself a moment to take in your condition. When his eyes rake over your bare body, he can’t help his thoughts no matter how hard he tries. The thoughts of admiration.
“Tamtey.” He breathes heavily as he stumbles back, his head spinning.
He glances down and rips the dart from his own chest with a grunt, before falling to his knees to pluck the dart from yours. He forces himself to look away from your puckered, dark nipples. It’s off limits. These thoughts, these feelings, are. off. limits.
The sound of oncoming machines and the buzz of electricity solidify his self-discipline, and So’lek moves fast, cutting you free and hoisting you over his shoulder. He takes off into the thick foliage, using it to his advantage to keep you both out of sight.
So’lek pushes himself to his limit, stride after stride, getting you both as far into the forest as possible. As far away from those demons as possible. Until he can no longer ignore the falter in his step. Whatever they shot him with, it’s slowing him down. He’s losing momentum—focus, and he’s losing it fast.
No. This won’t do. At this rate, he’ll collapse before he can make it to the mountains and that won’t be good for either of you. He ponders his next move, but there’s this cloud in his head that he can’t clear. Double vision sets in and he blinks a few times in an attempt to fix it. He shakes his head from frustration and readjusts you on his shoulder.
With a deep breath, he starts scoping out the nearest shelter. He spots a rather large rock not too far off, half swallowed by the roots of nearby trees. If he didn’t look hard enough, he would’ve missed the broken mouth at ground level, just big enough for him to fit through. It’s a chance. It could be nothing. Or it could be everything you both need right now.
Warily, So’lek approaches the cave, carefully tucking you among the safety of the roots. Now that you’re hidden, he can focus on scouting out the cave. Rifle in hand, he enters the darkness, discovering that it slopes gently downward, putting you out of his sight. He feels a sense of unease and looks back up at you, hesitating.
He doesn’t like you out of sight.
He huffs a sigh and grits his teeth, hauling himself further into the cave. He understands it’s the most logical choice. The air shifts, it’s cooler, and a little damp. He scans the cave, even through the haze, checking sightlines, listening for echoes. The deeper he gets, the more the darkness shifts into color. The bioluminescence of the glowy moss and small creatures bloom, revealing a thin stream that trickles from a narrow crack in the rock. A small waterfall that pools shallowly before disappearing into the stone.
Good, he nods to himself. Water to drink.
But more importantly, it's empty.
It's safe. For now, at least. It’s somewhere to disappear for a few hours and let his body fight its way back. Immediately, So’lek turns back, entirely too uncomfortable with the fact that he can’t see you. Had your scent not followed him into the cave he probably wouldn’t have even gotten this far. When he resurfaces, that same scent floods his senses. It’s overpowering. To the point that he’d be a fool not to acknowledge what it really is.
Your pheromones.
You’re in heat.
He breathes hard, eyes closed, trying to push back that fog creeping through his limbs—his body. Your pheromones are only aggravating his state of mind. He scoops you into his arms, using what strength he has left to carry you inside the cave. He’s careful of your head—of your entire naked body—taking his time as he navigates through the cave.
Once he reaches the soft moss, he is satisfied enough to put you down. He drops to a knee as he does, gentle with his touch, ensuring your head is cushioned by the thickest part of the moss. You curl into a fetal position on your own, the beads of sweat beginning to ball at your temples, your face screwed with discomfort.
So’lek takes a moment to gather himself, to gather the strength to move away from you and towards the thin stream. He cups the water, splashing it over his face, letting it run down his jaw and neck. It’s there, in the way his blood stained hands tremble as he pulls them from his face, that the realization settles.
In here, he might be the danger.
If he can’t get a hold of himself now, what will he do when you wake up? How will he resist…you? He exhales, long and shaky, eyes half-lidded now. He retreats to a nearby ledge, far enough from you, but not too far. His instinct won’t allow it. He lowers himself onto the rock, acting as the shield between you and whatever’s outside of this cave. His back presses against the cool cave wall, and he positions his legs just enough to keep himself steady. He settles his rifle on his lap, head slumping back against the rock, finger near the trigger.
Even in this state, he’s ready for whatever may come. No one will ever take you from him again. He lets himself rest, for now, stealing glances at you every time your sweet scent wafts towards him. Being in an enclosed space certainly doesn’t help the effect it’s having on him. But he can only hold his breath for so long.
He’s got no other choice but to breathe you in.
It feels like he’s got the reins in his hands but he can’t grip them tight enough. Like they’ll slip through his hold if your pheromones get any stronger. And they are. They most definitely are. Especially now that you’re starting to wake up.
Your groans start low, and small. More like little whimpers, but they’ve got him watching you none the less. Those glances are no more. He simply didn’t have the discipline to look away at this very moment. He feels ashamed to stare, and he knows it’s the last thing he should be doing. You’re bare. And he’s your mentor. You trust him implicitly. This would be a breach in that trust. But your nipples are puckered so beautifully, dark and flushed. So’lek’s gaze moves downward, your legs are so tightly closed, yet your arousal is so pungent he can practically taste it.
His tongue swipes his bottom lip before he swallows, his eyes daring to wander a little further down. Heat pools in his stomach and his brows jump when he sees the single, glistening drop of slick slowly roll down your inner thigh, onto the green bed of flora. He shuts his eyes, a harsh breath expelling from his nostrils, his jaw tight.
In all honesty, he’s never felt jealousy toward moss before, but there’s a first for everything. So’lek bites his tongue, tasting blood. Anything to snap himself out of this trance he’s in. This is a line he won’t cross—can’t cross. No matter how much he may want. He can’t bring himself to turn his head, so keeping his eyes shut will have to do.
“Mmmn…”
The groggy sound dislodges from your throat before you can even register it came from you. It’s like there’s a lag between your body and mind. You know you want to open your eyes, but they don’t listen to your command right away. You need to see, or how else will you know what they’re plotting next? You force them open and things are a blur at first.
Blobs of colors sprinkle your vision and you try to blink them away. Soon enough they merge and things sharpen until you see that you’re in a place you don’t recognize whatsoever. Panic blooms in your chest, and adrenaline pumps through your veins at a frightening rate. Your eyes, once heavy as sandbags, bulge from your head as you spring into a seated position.
You scramble back until you hit something rough and hard, and reach for your knife which isn’t there. The worst comes to mind. They’ve dragged you to this place where no one will ever find you and left you for dead. And even worse, they’ve found him and killed him. You look down in horror—you’ve got no top on, no tewng, nothing. You begin to hyperventilate, clutching your chest with one hand and hugging your knees with the other.
“Mawey.” A familiar, comforting voice coos, and when you look up you realise it’s So’lek. Relief cascades over you. “Mawey, Tamtey. You are safe, I have you. Breathe.”
He’s towering over you, hand cupping your cheek, concern etched into each wrinkle and scar on his perfect face. But his eyes—they’re hazy and glossy.
“So’lek? Ma’So’lek!” You sob, fat tears streaming down your cheeks as you throw yourself into his arms.
“Breathe, Tamtey.” He coos as he cradles you close to him, counting down the seconds he has to savour how you feel in his clutch before he reluctantly lets go.
You look around, and you’re so, so confused. But if So’lek is here, that means everything will be alright.
“Where are we?” You ask, chest heaving, body burning. “What…what happened?”
So’lek’s expression hardens as he skitters back, away from you. His eyes flick down to his feet. “I am…not entirely sure.”
Suddenly, you’re hyper aware of yourself. The sweaty hair stuck to your neck. Your hard nipples. The faint throb between your legs. What’s happened? You close in on yourself even more, embarrassed. He probably doesn’t even want to see you this way, yet you’ve thrown yourself on him.
Silence passes. The air is thick with tension, an awkwardness filling the space between you and him. You wrap an arm around your chest and cross your legs. You feel utterly exposed, even though he refuses to look at you.
If anything, that actually makes it worse.
So you turn inwards, to your own muddy thoughts, trying to run through the last memories you have. They shot you, twice. And gave you an injection. And then…that’s it. That’s all you can remember. An unsettling feeling blankets over you. Why are you naked? And…what did they do to you? Worry cramps your stomach, and suddenly you’re nauseous and clammy.
“You live, Sarentu.” So’lek’s sarcastic tone brings you back from that dark place. He’s finally looking at you now, eyes filled with concern, a light smile on his face.
You laugh and wipe your tears with a trembling hand. “You came, chicken.”
“Hmm.” So’lek hums weakly. He looks spent. Like he can barely keep his head up. Like when they shot you.
“What happened…to you?” You ask quietly, you’ve never seen him like this before. “You look like shit.”
So’lek’s head rolls towards you and his brow bones jump, one side of his mouth curling into a smirk.
“Me?”
“Ha-ha.” You say faintly, a soft smile pulling at your lips. Yeah, you do probably look like shit, all things considered. At least you feel that way. Like you’ve been caught in the middle of a titanothere stampede.
But in the same breath, your body feels…strange. Similar to when you’re sick with a fever. That sort of sluggish, air-headed feeling.
“My head…mmm—” You mumble to yourself as your eyes flutter shut. There’s a muffled ringing in your ears. “…I don’t know.”
“Tamtey?” So’lek’s calls for you, but he sounds far away. That ringing in your ears is getting louder.
A bead of sweat crashes onto your chest, and it’s enough to make you look down. Your skin glistens, your tahnìs blinking haphazardly in the dark. There’s a heaviness down there, a pull that makes your legs open to get more comfortable.
In a flash, a fog claims your mind as you hazily watch your knees part, exposing how swollen and flushed you are. Your puffy folds glisten, and you go to touch them, curious to see how it feels—how it would feel. Your fingers touch, parting slightly, playing with the stringy, clear slick.
Just as quickly as the fog comes, it clears. And you’re left with this mortifying sense of clarity of what you just did. Of the fact that he’s just seen you, spread wide. Your legs snap closed and you look up, meeting the glowing eyes of your mentor.
“I…I don’t know—I don’t know why I just did that. ‘m sorry…” You stumble with your words, looking away in shame, further retreating into the wall. He must be so disappointed in you.
So’lek doesn’t move. He can’t. If he does, it won’t end well. He just holds his breath, embracing the way his lungs scream for air, focusing on that tight feeling instead of the tightness of his tewng. He acts as if it did nothing to him, like his cock isn’t as hard as it was during his first rut. Like he’s entirely unbothered.
But the truth is…
Your pussy is perfect. She’s more beautiful than he’s ever imagined. Shiny with your arousal, so inviting. As if she’s calling for him. And he’d cut his own tail off so he could answer. But he doesn’t entertain the thought. Instead, he reminds himself not to breathe. Because if he does, then he’ll really taste you on his tongue.
“It cannot be helped. It is fine.” He manages to get out of his screaming lungs, inching further away from you. But there’s something inside him that’s physically stopping him from completely leaving your side.
“It’s not—haaah…” You moan shakily as you feel the fog seep back in. You burst out into a shiver, tiny bumps sprinkling your skin. “It’s coming…again. Th-they gave me…something. I don’t—I’m, I feel weird, So’lek.”
His head snaps towards you, ears tall and alert. “What did they give you?”
“I don’t know. S-Something.” Your lungs tremble as a wave of heat covers you like a sheet. “An injection.”
You moan again, that heavy sensation in your lower tummy grows into a sharp ache and you can’t help but cradle that part of you.
So’lek growls, displeased by the mere thought. And your body responds to the sound alone, producing more of that slick between your legs. His nostrils twitch and you swear his eyes darken when they fall on you protecting your empty womb.
He will protect it once it’s full.
“It’s hot, it’s so fucking hot…” You mumble, smacking your dry tongue.
“You and that mouth.” He rasps, finally taking in a deep breath and immediately regretting it. It’s like the air has gone straight to his head, a pressure swelling there until he can’t form a rational thought.
You’re dangerous like this. No. You make him dangerous.
The wave passes and some sort of coherence settles, leaving you feeling the most vulnerable you’ve ever felt in your life. Not only that, but the daunting realization dawns on you that this is entirely out of your control. Like there’s something wrong with your body. Anxiety flashes across your face and sympathy floods So’lek’s.
“Hold still.” He’s speaking to you like your mentor as he makes cautious, calculated movements towards the small pool of water. He cups it in his hands and brings it to your lips, and you drink from them fervently. It’s more than refreshing, it’s reviving.
“Better, now?” His voice rumbles, his face just inches from yours. When you’re finished, he drags his calloused, wet hands down your throat, cooling you off.
The feeling is divine. His touch is right. And he’s so close to you that you can feel his hot breath against you. You can smell him. You hadn’t noticed until now, exactly how good he smelled. And it seems to be coming from somewhere a little further down. You don’t realize that you’re looking there, but there's a notable bulge in his tewng.
“Eyes up, Sarentu.” He rumbles. “Focus.”
“So’lek…” You moan as that formidable fog looms back over your entire body. “Ma’Solek.”
“Do not say it…like that.” His brows furrow and his jaw flutters.
“Ma’So’lek…” His name drips from your lips again, thick as tree sap, your hand brushing against your heavy breasts. Your nipples tighten, a tingly sensation zinging through you like electricity. You’re an open nerve, all of you. And it makes you squirm.
“I said, rä’ä rikx [do not move].” He bares his canines as he speaks, his voice is deep and thick with restraint.
“Don’t think I…can—I can’t…” You pluck at your nipples, over and over, it’s annoying how itchy they’re getting. You feel blood rush to your face as another wave of heat crashes over you, leaving you panting and clammy. “Oh, Ma’So’lek…Touch…touch me, please.”
“You are not in your right mind.” So’lek strains his words as he stumbles back, his head turned away from you, yet his eyes still locked on your every move.
He scorns himself for the lack of discipline he’s showing, for looking at you in your most vulnerable state. He mounts the ledge with a gruff grunt, slightly spreading his legs to make space between his thighs. He leans back, abs tensed, his body unbelievably heavy.
Then your womb throbs. A yearning sensation, something instinctual flares inside you. It’s not pleasant, but it’s not unpleasant either. It’s just different. An entirely new feeling. You clutch your belly, curling over yourself, trying to understand this all.
“What’s happening?” You whine, crossing your legs tight to quell that bothersome pulse.
“They put you in heat.”
“H-Heat? I’ve never…I really, I-I don’t like it.”
“You never…?” So’lek hisses softly, sinking his head into his hands.
Of course you’ve never had your heat cycle. You’re half his age. Between that and cryo, it makes complete sense as to why you’re so confused. It’s why you’re so innocent to him to begin with. You’re young, and a little naive. Inexperienced. Untouched. Oh. You’ve never been touched, which means…he’d be your first.
No. No, he won’t.
His fingers rake through his hair as he breathes hard and fast, his hands covering his ears to muffle your sounds. It’s like listening to an ikran in distress. He wants to help, to make it better. But he can’t, so he won’t. Not like this.
“Nggh–h-how…why’d they…why?” You can barely speak, just let these humiliating sounds come from some primal part inside you.
“So I will come.” Constraint tenses his deep voice, but it's laced with something else, too.
Hunger.
You don’t understand, you just want. You crave, you need, you yearn. For him. It still doesn’t make sense to you. There is no point in trying to understand, to fight this. It’s going to happen no matter how much you resist it, so it only makes sense to just let go. To let it happen, right?
“Would it be…haah…s-so bad?” You ask hazily, settling on your knees, letting your hand slip down between your thighs.
“Yes.” He’s sharp with his answer, giving you that tone he usually does when ‘it’s final’. Dismay bursts through your ribcage.
“But why?” You let out a frustrated sob, sounding like a child who didn’t get their way. “Why not!”
“Tamtey.”
He uses your name like a warning, finally looking at you, just to meet his biggest temptation yet. You’re touching yourself, your inexperienced fingers fumbling, your eyes half lidded and cloudy. Inside, he burns with shame—the internal battle of conflict ensuing.
“I have lived nearly twice your life already.” He sounds weak. He is weak. Whatever they shot him with is still coursing through his bloodstream.
“Ke tare [it doesn’t matter].”
“It does.” He snaps at you, overwhelmed by a new, stronger wave of your pheromones. Your heat is peaking. So’lek narrows his gaze on you, his mouth turning downwards. “You are still young. It is your first heat. I will not hurt you.”
The tears come, and you can’t stop them. They’re only confirming what he’s said. “…it’s already hurting.”
“Shushh…Mawey. I do not like when you cry.” His breath shakes from restraint, from the struggle between what he wants and what he should do. “You are strong enough for this, Sarentu.”
You whimper as you fall forward on your hands and knees, sinking your chest into the moss until your hips lift into the air—your tail swishing wildly behind you. This position feels better, it dulls the ache, it satisfies the pull. It’s the position your body should be in.
So’lek watches you through lidded eyes, groaning when you rock back and forth a little. He wants to come behind you and settle on his knees. He can see himself so vividly, curving over you, his pelvis flush to you, pressing into that soft, sticky slit you're presenting to him. Instinct rides him, and he shifts his hips.
He wants to take this bait.
The scent of your pussy is driving him mad, he can’t take it. He can smell how ripe you are from where he sits. He wishes you’d move to the side a little so he can get a better look, like you did earlier when you mindlessly played with your puffy folds. He craves to know how it feels inside.
You don’t mean to move. It just happens. Your palms press into the moss, one in front of the other, your knees following effortlessly behind. This distance between you and So’lek feels wrong, his scent isn’t strong enough anymore.
Why is he so far away?
So’lek doesn’t dare take his eyes off you, every muscle in his body is flexed—eerily still. Because you look like a palulukan stalking him, hunting her prey. He’s yours. And it’s doing something to him, something dangerous. He presses his pelvis forward, chasing the throb down there that he can’t ignore anymore.
You start at his calf, nudging at it with your cheek. You drag your flushed face up his muscular leg, past his knee. You're inhaling his musk, deep and long, pressing your nose into his thigh.
“Sarentu…” He exhales shakily, his hands gripping relentlessly onto the stone. “What are you doing?”
“It’s coming…from here.” You mutter into his inner thigh, rubbing your face against him as you breathe in his musky scent. It’s stronger the further up you go.
“You are scenting me.” He whispers through gritted teeth, “…like I am yours.”
“Yes, ma’So’lek.” You moan, your hands wandering up his thighs. You push them further apart, your face burrowing right between them. “You belong…to me.”
So’lek’s restraint is palpable. It’s in every loud breath he heaves, to each small spasm of his muscles.
“Tamtey.” He warns longingly, his throat tight. “You are going to send me into rut.”
“You want me.” It’s not a question, it’s defiance—insistence. You know it in your bones. You feel it radiating from him, his containment, the way he’s peering down at you between his legs.
So’lek’s jaw tightens. His lips press thin as he intentionally slows his breath, each movement measured.
“Yes.” He speaks through his teeth, quick and breathless. He will never lie to you, not even about this.
“Then let me.” You breathe open mouthed against his inner thigh. Your sensitive lips drag upwards, right across that bulge inside his tewng.
“No…Sarentu.” He speaks quietly, brows tensed, ears slicked back.
“Smell s’good.” You mumble, rubbing your face against it. It’s hot, and it strains hard against the fabric. You want to see what’s inside.
“You…” He groans from the friction, his breath heavy as he fights the pleasure. “You do not know what you are doing.”
“Want…please.” Your tongue darts out for a taste, but it doesn’t taste like much. You need to get rid of this thing stopping you. Frustrated, your hand lugs higher, weak fingers tugging at the taut material.
He’s the male. He’ll help you.
“Help, Ma’So’lek, help.”
Hearing you plead for help triggers something inside him, that part that screams protect. Provide. His hand jolts, instinctively going for his tewng, but he stops it at the last second. He can’t think straight, not when your innocent, flushed face looks so perfect between his legs.
“You will regret this, Sarentu.” His voice is strained, his eyes closing.
“No, please. Please.” You beg, out of your mind, going for his tewng again, tugging it a little harder. “Want to see…what’s inside. Let me. It smells…s’good.”
“Eywa.” He hisses through gritted teeth, opening his eyes to see you nipping at his tewng with your little canines. “Give me the strength.”
“It's what I want…I need…I hurt, ma’So’lek.”
Well, that pains his heart. Heavily. He can’t have you hurting like this. His hand moves, guiding yours, hooking your fingers underneath the side of his tewng, shifting it slowly. He’s in a trance, moving on impulse as he watches your tail swish excitedly, your body vibrating with eagerness.
His chest swells with pride, he’s satisfying you, doing you right, as he should. It is right—whatever you want. His duty is to give it to you. Your ears flicker and then pin to your skull, your mouth seeking the source of his scent. You whine longingly, shifting your knees, shuffling closer.
Eager to see. Your hands slip to his thighs, holding them there so they don’t move, one hand gripping just underneath his muscle. Your fingers sink into his skin, your heart beating its way out of its cage.
So’lek’s breath is so heavy it’s audible, he’s never seen you so eager. His tewng finally shifts to the side, and his cock springs out, painfully hard.
Immediately, you rub against his length with your face, enjoying how hot it feels on your skin.
“Tamtey…” So’lek rasps your name in a haze, mesmerized by you entirely. His hand seeks out the ledge once more, gripping it with all his strength when your wet nose brushes against his tip. His cock twitches away from your face, slapping against his stomach.
“...what are you—?”
He watches as you shove your nose into that space between his thigh and cock, filling your lungs to capacity. Your tail thrashes wildly behind you as you shuffle even closer, your achy breasts brushing against his calves.
“Ma’So’lek…Ma’muntxatan….”
Yes. So’lek purrs at the sound of you calling him yours. He is your mate. He feels that is so. That’s also right. His hips buck, the tip of his cock leaking with slick, beading down his length.
You want to taste it properly, and your mouth opens, tongue lolling out, wet and inviting. You look up at him through damp lashes, dazed. He’s watching intently, like his life depends on it.
Glancing down, you really see it. It’s big, really big. And hard, so hard it’s straining. His tip tapers into a point, garnished with small spikes, his slit oozing and leaking. He’s throbbing too, just like you. You want to lick the veins protruding down his length, to the base of his cock that's turning deep purple.
You want to know how it feels against your tongue.
So’lek draws in a sharp breath when you rest his tip against your hot tongue. Sweetness bursts on your tastebuds and you moan, closing your lips around the head of his cock so you can swallow the taste. It pulses in your mouth, his balls pumping more of those delicious beads into your cheeks.
Your pussy tightens, slick dripping down your thighs—your belly swirling with anticipation. Your eyes flutter shut as you take more of him inside until that swollen, pointed tip hits the back of your throat and your shoulders heave when you gag.
A guttural groan rumbles from him, and his hips stutter, making you gag again. He’s never experienced anything like this in his almost forty years of living. How do you look so innocent doing something so filthy? He doesn’t know what to make of it, pleasure and guilt tighten his stomach. It feels too good, his body is reacting quicker than his mind.
His hips drive forward again, rougher this time, but you don’t gag—drool just oozes from the corners of your mouth, your nose getting snotty. His ears grow hot and his swelling balls pull tightly to his core. He’s going to shoot his load down your throat if he doesn’t find the strength to stop you soon. He can’t do that to you. He shouldn’t even be doing this with you now.
Fuck. He’s losing it, really losing it. He wanted to do this right, to ask you to be his mate.
But the little self control he had left is gone. Like it was never there to begin with. He’s on the cusp of it now, he feels it creeping up on him. Threatening to take the reins straight from his hands. That fire inside him is waking up again, and it’s not demanding spilled blood.
It’s demanding you.
That plump slit between your legs. It wants him inside, deep, touching the opening of your womb. The womb he’ll fill with his seed that you will bear for him. He’s longed for it for some time, to see you round and swollen, carrying a part of him inside you day and night. Now he can make it happen, he can make it real, right here, right now. He can hold you down as you squirm and breed your cunt, over and over. Then he’ll knot you, deep enough to hear your sweet sounds of pain and pleasure, keeping you stuck to him—from running away.
He’s staring at your expression, hot and bothered, your lips stretched around his fat cock perfectly. He thrusts his hips, driving his cock a little deeper down your throat. His hands fly to your head, fingers weaving through your hair, and he firmly holds you there as you gag repeatedly. With every gag, his knot swells and his cock throbs. He’s going to come down your throat.
Shit. He’s going to come down your throat.
The realization hits him like a punch to the face and he springs to his feet, his cock popping out of your mouth as you fall to your behind. You gasp for air, unable to catch your breath properly as you stare up at him expectantly. Your hands reach down for the heat between your legs, rubbing and tickling and the sight sends his cock frantically jumping.
“Tamtey.” He growls low in his throat, his rut riding him hard. “Run.”
Summary: So'lek has accepted his life as an outsider, no clan of his own to call home. For years nothing has consumed him more than the need to exact revenge on the RDA who stole everything from him. Yet somehow all of that changes when he meets you.
Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, trauma, mentions of death and war, angst, injuries, obsessive So'lek, lust, p in v, oral, swearing, marking, possessive thoughts, rough, jealousy, yearning, breast play, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, etc (not all inclusive)
You do not need to have played the game to read this story. I did my best to include context clues that make it clear enough.
Disclaimer: I am no So'lek expert so I made some educated guesses based on what I learned playing the game. If you see mistakes....no you don't.
The first instance is innocent. Something that So’lek can attribute to mere chance and furthermore nothing he expected to have any consequence on him. Meeting you is unexpected.
It happens after a long mission. He had drawn off firepower from the RDA so that one of the Sarentu could infiltrate and shut down one of the drill sites. Not only was the objective completed but it also seemed to have a positive effect on their relations with the Zeswa clan. They are impressed by the action, even more so drawn to a proper alliance between them and the resistance as the effects of Sky Demon technology has worsened on the their plains.
And so for the first time So’lek gets to witness the Zeswa home. Only there to discuss further relations with the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan, he tries to keep his curiosity to a minimum. However, it is difficult to not be swept away by the beauty of the upper plains. Even more so with the open comradery and community that is exhibited among the clan. The Zeswa are known for being a loud people, proud and brave while also fundamentally aware of possessing such skills.
They are a direct contrast to the Aranahe in that aspect. Everywhere he walks there are groups laughing boisterously, young warriors sparing while others cheer. Even when they fight there is not the usual demeanor So’lek is accustomed to. An air of playfulness is present. It is not weighed down by the same bitter thirst for revenge his own training exhibits.
There are colorful tents and kelku all positioned around caring for the hibernating Zakru. These giant beasts lay in the warm embrace of sunshine as their smaller counterparts laugh and rush around them. A foreign yet delightful relationship to behold.
His meeting with Minang and Nesim is short. No real negotiations are needed as they too are quick to join a fight. It is one of the things that So’lek has always appreciated about the Zeswa. Unlike the Aranahe they require no convincing when it comes to defending their home. If anything, they only wait to see which allies will be worthy of fighting alongside them. Fear is not a common ideal among them.
It is when So’lek has paid his respect to their leaders and begins making his long trek home, that he hears a voice.
“Are you going to leave it like that?”
So’lek’s ears perk, tail stopping midair. When a few seconds pass it becomes clear that the voice behind him is in fact addressing him and not a clan member. Slowly turning on his heels he looks down to find you. A female at least a head shorter than him wearing traditional Zeswa colors and looking up at him with an inquisitive brow raised. Despite your diminutive stature, you blink up at him without an ounce of concern.
“Your arm.” You clarify and much to his surprise he looks down to where you’re pointing and finds that there is a sizable gath along his bicep. It must have occurred somewhere between drawing the firepower out and taking down an amp suit with his bare hands. There is a tinge of pain now that you’ve brought attention to it, but it’s nothing in comparison to what he has endured in the past.
“It is minor.” He responds slowly, unsure of what answer you are expecting from him. Most clan members among the Aranahe barely acknowledge him. Not that they can be blamed. He is a stranger with a gun in hand and a permanent scowl in place. Neither has it ever truly bothered him. However, you seem to be in no mood to let him out of his impromptu conversation and it has him slightly on edge.
You scoff, soft features already laced into an amused expression. “Minor or not it needs to be stitched.”
Are you going to make him visit the healer’s tent? There would be no need. The hospital outpost within Resistance headquarters is sterile and inhabited by Sky People that barely understand the fundamentals of Na’vi anatomy, but it has always done the job before. Big or small injury, he has remained in one piece.
So’lek keeps a neutral expression, only allowing himself the release of shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Minang has other responsibilities.”
You roll your eyes and a short laugh escapes your throat. “Men,” you mutter under your breath, just quiet enough that he starts to wonder if he has imagined it. “Come. I will fix it.”
He doesn’t immediately move at your command. After a few steps you turn over your shoulder to still see him standing there and it seems as if you are trying to hold laughter back at the sight of him. Although, So’lek can’t fathom what could possibly be funny about him.
“I do not bite. Come.” Voice fused with a playful laugh, you gesture once more for him to follow. So despite his better judgment, So’lek trails behind you, shortening his stride so as to not clip your heels, until he is gestured into a large tent. There are only a couple healers left in the tent. One woman is organizing the herbs while a male healer inspect a gash upon a man’s leg. Both of them turn to exchange a smile with you upon entering.
Smiles that waiver when they spot him towering behind.
“Sit down.” You command, pointing to a mat on his left. Reluctantly So’lek obeys, but his tail is already whipping with impatience. The others will be expecting him back soon. It is only a matter of time before Priya is bugging him over the radio for results on his talk with the Zeswa. It is not as if he is about to bleed out or lose his arm from waiting a few more hours for stitching.
Regardless, you keep an eye on him while gathering a needle, thread, and the proper ointments. You’re checking to make sure he doesn’t run off and you are nowhere near trying to hide it. In fact, when his eyes meet yours, you give a chipper smile. He holds back a sigh. There will be no escaping this tent soon.
The same upbeat attitude is not fully shared among the other Na’vi present in the tent. They remain polite but on guard. By the time you are kneeling next to him they have one by one created excuses for needing to leave. It’s just the two of you now.
“Let me see.” In usual fashion you demand, although voice soft. So’lek watches as you examine his arm, small fingers curling under his bicep carefully. The touch lights something in his stomach until once again he is wondering how long this visit will be. “My name is y/n.”
The sudden admission has him zoning back in. His golden eyes peek to see you from his peripherals. When the ointment is lathered over his wound So’lek is too busy turning the name over in his head to stop himself from flinching.
“This is the part where you tell me your name.” Your gaze has risen from where it was inspecting his gash to now inspect his motionless expression instead. So’lek bites back the urge to swallow the lump in his throat. Wonderful. This may be a waste of his time but that is no excuse to be rude, especially among members of a new alliance.
Social interaction, however, has never been one of his strong suits. He had spent years in the forest surviving alone after his clan was wiped out. Many days the only interactions he had with another being was the prey he hunted, diligently whispering the prayer of thanks over their dead bodies before preparing a meal for one. And even since then, So’lek is vexed to admit that a majority of his conversations have been with pestering Sky Demons at resistance headquarters who ask far too many questions and lag in recognizing his distaste for such interaction.
“It is So’lek.”
“I know who you are.” You shrug, back to focusing on spreading the ointment. His hairless brows pull together.
“If you know then why did you ask?” Except, you technically didn’t ask. You urged him to share, a distinction you graciously don’t correct.
“Because that is what people do when they meet each other. Just because I know who you are does not mean you shouldn’t share your name with me.” Yet another custom he has become out of touch with. Years away from a true Na’vi clan may have broken him in more ways than he had originally imagined. And yet, you don’t appear to be offended. There is a sparkle in your eyes, something he can’t quite analyze but it holds a lightness he’s unfamiliar with.
The ointment you spread smells sweet. Almost like the pod fruit he picks near headquarters for lunch. Or perhaps the nectar he can occasionally finds while traveling. Whatever it is, it’s far better than the usual stench of medicine used at headquarters. Those strangely packaged doses have a thick texture and sterile smell that always makes his stomach turn.
But this…this is almost nice. Even as the lathered touch burns along his wound.
“Your Sarentu friend comes to visit often. They stop by for a meal and materials, even socializing upon occasion. But I never see you.” The needle gracefully slips beneath his skin but So’lek can barely focus on the sensation. “I was starting to think that you were a myth created by them for a good story.”
So’lek is at a loss for words. What exactly is your point? Are you suggesting he should be spending more time among the Zeswa. It is the Sarentu that had received an invitation to help, not him. Up until now he has remained respectful of your clan’s space. It is only for an invited meeting that he finds himself here to witness your home for the first time. But the way you talk about it makes him almost feel guilty for not dropping by earlier.
Would the Zeswa people have welcomed him if he had? Give him a smile as he cooked a meal here or crafted a better bow as the Sarentu often do? He’s not sure if he would know how to respond if they did. Your attention has already proven to be hard enough to reciprocate as is.
“I attend to responsibilities at Resistance Headquarters.”
“So I’ve heard.” You hum. There is something else in your voice, some hidden message in your tone but So’lek can’t decipher it for the life of him. So once again he is caught wondering what your intentions are in bringing it up. Perhaps nothing. You are strangers to one another. Just because you have gone out of your way to heal him does not mean you care whether or not he graces the clan with his presence. For all he knows, making conversation is a polite practice for good bedside manner.
Your precision is admirable. A calm consistent draw and pull of the needle to create perfectly tight and even stitches sealing him up. Far better work than that done by flimsy Sky People hands at headquarters. And while their small faces often pinch in concentration when stitching, your features remain relaxed. Even tranquil, with just the softest of smiles present.
In a way it almost causes his own demeanor to follow suit. That is if it weren’t for your distracting appearance. It has been so long since he has witnessed true Na’vi crafted attire so he can’t really be blamed for running his eyes over your intricate top of bright reds and oranges. It’s only when you shift slightly that he realizes how scantily clad your chest is with only the decorative fabric. And it shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.
Nudity is not a big concern among the Na’vi. They are not ashamed of their bodies. But it’s clear he has been hanging around tawtute far too much as he feels the need to shift his gaze away every time that flimsy covering slides one way or another. And where they land, however, is just as distracting. The soft curves of your faces, long dark lashes that blanket your fixated gaze. Even your hair that is entirely unrestrained with only a few flowers woven along your crown, allowing it to fall down to your waist in soft waves.
Staring isn’t a big deal. Or at least it shouldn’t be, but there is something about letting his eyes land for too long that puts him on edge. Perhaps it is some lingering adrenaline from the fight that still has him on alert. Even has his stomach twisting into weird knots. Usually by this point these effects have worn off, but So’lek tries not to read too far into it.
A hiss escapes his lips without permission when fingers suddenly press into his shoulder blade.
“By Eywa…” You marvel, now coming to press against the area harder even as he hisses his discomfort. “You are wound very tight. There is a giant knot here.”
So’lek’s teeth dig into the inside of his lips to keep back further hissing, but there is no controlling the writhing of his tail. Despite all of his efforts, however, it seems that none of this is of consequence to you. You are more than content to ignore his pain and dig further into the muscle in order to examine the damage better.
“It is just…tense.” He defends, finally veering away from your hands.
“That is a nice way of putting it.” You scoff, shaking your head as if he has told a joke. “It needs to be massaged.”
So’lek blinks back at you. Massaged? Of course it would be nice to stop having that blaring pain in his shoulder but what is he supposed to do about it? It is simply a consequence of pulling back his bow so many times, or even from slotting the stock of a rifle against that shoulder. But then you are reaching out and it hits him. This is you offering?
Out of reflex he pulls away. Bottom lip caught between your teeth, that amusement paints your features again as you glare back at him. It’s the same look a parent gives their child when they are misbehaving. It has his ears twitching, tailing curling in anticipation. For what, he does not know.
“It is fine.” So’lek assures you, holding a hand up when you try to reach him again.
“Do not be ridiculous. It is not fine. That is, unless you are okay with letting it go until you are unable to move your arm without pain.” You have him there and you know it, watching him patiently until he will finally give in to your superior logic.
You are being a good healer, no doubt far more observant of his state than anyone that has ever treated him among the resistance. And it’s true that restricted mobility would cause a direct conflict to his plans of revenge against the RDA. What point is infiltrating a base if he can’t even pull back the string of his bow? So So’lek can’t quite understand why the idea of conceding to this massage has his heart racing.
Perhaps there is a personal aspect to it that makes him weary. He does not know you and you do not know him, no matter what stories the Sarentu has supposedly shared. You’ve just about wrestled him into this tent to get mended and now you are fully prepared to massage his pain away. To let those delicately soft hands run over exposed skin, bring him relief in a way no one else ever does.
His heart rate is far beyond what it should be outside of battle.
“Are you afraid I will hurt you?” Brow bones raising, you give him a look that says you know exactly how that idea attacks his male pride. Regardless, So’lek can’t hold back a scoff.
“No.”
“Then there really is no reason to be stubborn now, is there?” It’s a rhetorical question because only a few seconds after you are settling behind him and grabbing a basin of massage oil.
For the first time since meeting you, you hesitate when your fingers just barely brush his tactical vest. Immediately that touch is pulled away and you fumble to find an angle that will reach the knot in his shoulder without touching the gear.
It’s not the first time he has witnessed this hesitation among the Na’vi. The vest is intimidating, tacked on with a radio, ammunition, and many other pieces of Sky People technology that is entirely foreign to you. He remembers that caution in himself the first time he tried to hold a gun. Despite your carefree and pushy nature, this mysterious article seems to put you on edge too.
“Do you want me to remove it?”
“What?”
“The vest.” Daring to peek over his shoulder he finds your bottom lips trapped again before a simple nod is given his way. He sets down the vest a distance away with his gun too. Anything to make you feel a little more at ease. Ironically, however, it is him that is left feeling vulnerable without the heavy piece, only a thin swooping necklace over his bare chest now. Has it really been so long since he has removed his armor? Some nights he forgets to unclasp the vest before exhaustion takes him, but he has always blamed that on pure circumstance, not any sign of associated comfort.
Your apprehension is washed away as if it was never there in the first place, now that you are facing only bare skin. The oil that you begin lathering over his shoulder smells strongly of dapophet but there is something else mixed in there that he can’t place. A strong essence that has memories long forgotten tugged to the forefront of his mind. Images of his clan, his family. Is it possible that the Zeswa use similar herbs in their medicine as that of his clan’s tsahik?
That thought is immediately interrupted when fingers begin to dig into the muscle again. A sharp agony pings through him, his muscles naturally tensing to protect the injured area. However, it is all for not when you continue to dig at the area mercilessly. So’lek usually considers his pain tolerance to be quite high but somehow this pain is so deeply rooted that he can’t stop himself from veering away. Even when you tug his shoulder back towards you, a hiss escapes his lips.
“Hold still.” You demand.
He tries. He really does try because squirming like this is borderline embarrassing. He is a trained warrior for Eywa’s sake! A little massage should not have him writhing like this. Regardless it seems this knot has gotten far worse than he could have imagined.
“It really is fine.” So’lek grits out between clenched teeth. Star above, it is painful! He’s about ready to let the injury worsen if it means escaping your merciless hands.
“Are you going to stop squirming like a child or will I need to pin you down to do this?”
He can hear the amused smile in your voice but that’s not what his mind fixates on. Instead So’lek is horrified to witness how quickly his trail of thoughts leads to sinful places. How fast he can conjure up images of your smooth thighs cinched around his waist, your long hair falling over one shoulder to tickle at his spine. How easily he could quickly flip you over until he is the one that pins-
No. He must stop! A seasoned warrior well into his adult years should not create such innuendos so easily. That is for children, perhaps his years as a teenager where his hormones were wildly out of control. Back then he had a reason, but what excuse does he have now?
“Better.” You murmur and it’s then that he realizes his dirty thoughts have somehow managed to distract him from the pain, autopilot keeping him in place.
His jaw still clenches as you prod at the muscle, but eventually pain gives way into something else. Skilled fingers slowly ring out the agony he did not realize was there until his shoulders are sagging in relief. Your technique is meticulous, methodic. For such small hands you have quite the plethora of strength, wearing down his body until it is going lax.
And then there is a tune. A song so quiet that it takes him a moment to realize it is you humming behind him. That foreign melody captivates him easily. Ears perking to catch every change of note, So’lek drowns in your sweet voice. And sweet it is, no better sound has he heard in years. So much of his daily life is accompanied by yapping tawtute and distant RDA bombs.
There are times where the lab tawtute put on records to play but that music is offending in comparison to the theme you weave now. It reminds him of home. Not even specifically of his clan per say, but just the feeling of having a home. Of having a community to bask in.
Rich melody and trained fingers working in kind, So’lek melts beneath you. For the first time in a long time he remembers the difference between surviving and healing. Pleasure radiates from every touch you bestow and So’lek begins to slump, limbs feeling like noodles. Lost in the tranquility of the moment he doesn’t originally catch how concerning his thoughts become. How easily his body starts to yearn for your touch in different ways.
How easily he starts to yearn for you.
The interaction was innocent. And So’lek stands by that fact. You were pulled away abruptly by others demanding your attention and although it took him a few seconds to come down from that strange high, he had gathered his things and left the Zeswa with only your rushed goodbye as parting.
He had shaken it off as a weird experience, just the shock of true Na’vi medicine after being corrupted by tawtute practice for so long. However, when days pass and his mind keeps dragging him back towards that event, So’lek knows he is in trouble.
Were it just about the exceptional effects of Na’vi healing he wouldn’t be so concerned. After all, his shoulder has never felt better, his mobility and flexibility far beyond what he has done in a long time. So it would only be natural to have a fixation on something that rendered such positive results.
But it’s the dreams that worry him. Dreams that start out as intangible images of your long hair, soft hands over his skin. Things that could be shrugged off as a wrong mix of hormones messing with his subconscious, potentially a faceless woman it imitates. But then they become more intense, uncomfortably vivid. Stories woven by his subconscious that are not only specific but inherently sexual.
He dreams of how your lips would taste against his own. He dreams of your body pressed against him, of an intimacy far beyond what he could ever describe in words. Even the way his scent would beautifully coalesce with your own upon scent marking his territory.
It is borderline madness. So’lek has only ever met you once! One time where you simply did your job as a healer. Creating fantasies out of such a small instance is truly pathetic. Of course it has been a while since he has been intimate with a woman but these feelings have not risen in years, especially not in a way so close to obsessive that it has his head reeling.
And yet the dreams morph into the tangling of his actual conscious thoughts as he tries to go about his day. When he is sneaking up on a sturmbeest he’s wondering if you even remember that short hour together. When he is trading materials with the Sarentu his mind trails to guessing what activities are filling your day. And when he talks to Priya, well he tunes her completely out because surviving your nervous rambling is only doable when he’s imagining how the sun reflected off of your hair. And frankly, anything to keep is patience while talking to the purple haired tawtute is approved as far as he’s concerned.
Maybe he really has been alone for far too long. He is at an age where courting and mating is a common motivation and so his body is pushing him towards the first female that has given him attention. It is biological. It must be. Once his hormones have died down all will return back to normal and he can forget you ever even met.
That’s what he tells himself for the first week. So’lek stomps down the day dreaming as fast as possible and concentrates on his true goal, riding this planet of the RDA. He is in cohorts with the Sarentu and takes down every RDA tawtute and vehicle in his line of sight. But that doesn’t stop a nasty urge from sticking. Just this tiny idea of an injury bringing him back to the Zeswa healer’s tent. It seems that your duties primarily reside there and so it would be more than likely that he would find himself under your tender care again.
And it’s hideous the way this fucked up idea becomes a fantasy for him. He is a warrior! A man of honor and courage. No warrior should ever long for an injury, no matter how minor. Especially when it could take him away from helping those who need him most, away from defending his home. So So’lek won’t say he falls from the tree on purpose.
He is collecting shell fruit up in the red trees. The proximity to Zeswa camp is only a coincidence. Of course his agility is usually far beyond letting himself get scrapped up and falling a few branches down, but everyone has bad days. The only sensible thing to do while so far away from resistance headquarters, is seek a healer from the Zeswa.
He can be quick. In and out with little interference on their daily activities.
So’lek maintains a neutral mask when he reaches the healer’s tent. His greeting is polite but detached with every clan member that passes him by. However, there is no stopping the disappointment that lowers his tail when it is a different female that ushers him in for treatment. You are nowhere to be found in the spacious tent. Just a few elderly Na’vi receiving care and one child getting a scraped up knee bandaged.
Truly he is grateful for the help received. Ka’xhori is the name of this healer and she does quick ,but quality, work on his bleeding thigh. Several times her curious stare is caught by the strange devices on his vest and even the darker stripes across his forehead. She makes conversation for a few minutes but when his answers become choppy and short, she silently resigns to his lack of interest.
It’s towards the ending of the wrapping that he spots you from a distance. Just through the opening of the tent he catches you returning with a group of friends, shortbow in hand. A male to your right carries a fresh kill and the female to your left exuberantly tells you a story.
Your eyes sparkle in delight, avidly drinking in the story. And then your friends says something that elicits the most beautiful sound he has ever heard. You laugh, a laugh quite different than the teasing one you had exposed him to the first time. This one comes from your gut, a belly laugh that has your eyes crinkling and teeth on full display. There is a vibrance to this demeanor that has him drawn like a moth to a flame.
You’re babbling back at your friend with that same enthusiastic energy until both of you are struggling to not collapse to the ground in a fit of giggles. Even the male carrying the kill can’t defeat such infectious sounds of joy. Complete unabashed delight. No pretense. No mask, just a blinding smile he may never be able to unsee.
“That should hold for a while.” Ka’xhori says, tugging on the leaf bandage for good measure.
“My deepest gratitude.” His deep voice responds on autopilot. Most likely it is not convincing enough but So’lek is already shuffling out of the tent before she can respond.
Despite the natural tugging in your direction, So’lek turns to the trail opposite. This obsession has gone on long enough. He thought that perhaps coming back here would only prove it to be some silly crush born out of dramatizing your first interaction together but now he sees this is only becoming more dangerous by the second. It’s best to cut himself off now while he still can.
With a bit of distance and discipline he will be back on track.
“Hey stranger!”
So’lek pauses at your call, turning around to find you already leaving your friends behind to approach him. It takes everything within him to not reflect on the sway of your hips, the confident yet eased strut you exhibit.
“Kaltxi [hello].” He murmurs, giving the proper touch to his forehead in respect.
A giggle catches in your throat at his formality. “Kaltxi.” You mimic his tone, but return the gesture. “How is the shoulder? I hope I didn’t rough you up too much.”
Only psychologically. Only planting some brain rotting disease he can not rid himself of.
“It is much improved.”
Hands placed on your hips, that response seems to do the trick. However, it does not satisfy you enough to allow him an escape from this conversation.
“So you’ve come back for more business, then?”
So’lek tumbles for a proper excuse.
“I was here for…” It’s too late you’ve already noticed his bandaged thigh.
“You are injured again?” You make a small tutting noise in disapproval, coming to circle him closer. “You know, So’lek I have found that it is better to dodge the sky demon bullets, not race right into them.”
You joke as if the two of you are old friends, even a hint of mischief present in your composure. So’lek is left feeling lost in how to navigate this playful environment you’ve created. Even more so unsure on how to avoid admitting he fell out of a damn tree to get this mark. It would only show his weakness. Perhaps even give you the idea that he is uncoordinated in hunting and combat.
Not that it matters. Why should he care to prove himself as a competent and athletic male?
When he doesn’t respond fast enough you beat him to the punch. “You are not actually shot, correct?”
“I am not shot.”
“Good.” And he may just be imagining it, but there is a flicker of relief in your expression. What would your reaction be if he was shot? He would be mortified to be caught so easily by poorly aimed sky demon bullets but would that have won him some sympathy? Would you have tended to his wound directly, stayed by his side as he was nursed back to health?
“Well then if you are not bleeding to death you should stay for a meal.”
So’lek flinches when you’ve suddenly grabbed his left hand and tug. This recoil is punished with your hand pulling back, regret immediately slinking through his veins. Despite his brash reaction there is no sign of embarrassment in your expression. Just a simple roll of your eyes.
“I could not impose.”
“You are not imposing. It’s an invitation, So’lek.” You correct him. “Which in Zeswa culture really means you have no choice but to accept.”
He’s tempted to ask what would happen should he refuse, but he bites his tongue. It’s important to keep his relations with the Zeswa friendly, being polite as he can manage with his little social skills. So So’lek trails behind you, watching as the skip in your steps sway that long hair back and forth across the curve of your spine.
Just as with the healer’s tent, your presence immediately has others joyfully expressing their own greetings.
“I am still waiting for that rematch, Niwin.” You call to male on their right, covered in red paint markings.
“I told you, tsmuke [sister]. No number of rematches will give you the victory you desire. It is a waste of time.” He calls back, pausing from his work on a spear.
“Spoken like a true coward. Is your tail truly still stuck between your legs?” Pearly whites on full display you only laugh when he sends back a teasing hiss. So’lek doesn’t miss the way Niwin’s eyes catch and track his frame. He is not the only one to silently wonder what you are doing with a man like him.
Exchanging waves and inside jokes along the way, the two of you finally reach the largest of the Zeswa tents. Inside are Na’vi sprawled out and socializing, some crafting weapons while others use the cook fire to prepare meals.
Trusting that So’lek is following behind obediently, you make a beeline for a certain male next to the cookfire. Long dreads falling over his shoulder he is fast at work, properly cooking meat over the fire. A savory scent fills his lungs.
“Novao, I have brought you another victim.” You grin, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet.
“Such little faith you have in my genius.” He mutters, but stops short when he notices who stands behind you. His brow bones raise.
“Kaltxi,” So’lek signs awkwardly.
“Kaltxi,” Novao returns, the response uttered on instinct. “Who is this?” He asks, turning to you.
“Who is this?” You scoff, pushing at his shoulder. “This is So’lek, of course. By the stars, Novao, you would forget your head were it not attached to your body.” You snicker coming to kneel beside him.
So’lek hates to appear as if he is mimicking your motions but standing above the two of you now feels awkward so he slowly kneels.
“Do I want to know by what means you have kidnapped this man?” Novao goads.
“You said you need a larger sampling audience for more diverse feedback. Look at how I deliver.” You quip, bumping his shoulder with a proud grin. So’lek’s ears flicker at the playful jesting, but he doesn’t allow a smile. “Do not question good things that come your way.”
“I will once you stop questioning the success of my soon to be famous dishes.”
Is this how you converse with everyone? If so, perhaps there is nothing special about the way you tease him. Just a general reflection of your boisterous personality that he is not accustomed to.
“I apologize in advance if this dish causes physical repercussions.” You hand over a leaf of cloaked panther meat crested with vegetables and some sort of seed. A recipe entirely new to him, but he accepts. “There is no telling when Novao’s new recipes will bring you to the heights of ecstasy versus the edge of an early grave. But he needs opinions, so we must do our part.”
You make a show of holding up your own portions, as if to prove you are in this together. Novao grumbles under his breath but prepares a plate for himself while holding back a smile.
The first bite is intense. It takes a second bite to fully interpret the burst of flavor in his mouth and once he has, So’lek struggles not to scarf down the entire thing. Even you can’t hold back an approving moan as you chew. A sound that damn near has him spiralling again.
“It is wonderful,” He says.
“You see, even this newcomer knows how to appreciate food better.” Novao is quick to jump in.
Giggling after finally swallowing, you concede. “It is one of your better dishes to date, brother.”
So’lek has a hard time understanding how this isn’t ranked as the best dish period. He himself is proficient in cooking but So’lek has never taken it up as an art as some do. Most of his dishes have just enough flavor to suffice. During desperate times he occasionally will dip into his small stash of disgusting RDA meals. Nothing, however, has compared to this.
“Do you claim to cook better?” It’s a genuine question but it has Novao rumbling with laughter immediately. Your brows raise.
“Oh, look who has a sense of humor after all.” Brows raised, you peer back at him with narrowed eyes and a swishing tail. “Not a very good sense of humor, but one all the same.”
He can’t tear his gaze away from your burning attention. So’lek’s own tail curls along the floor. It’s not even praise but your spotlight warms his skin just the same. It feels good to elicit some sort of response from you, instead of the other way around for once.
“Y/n burns everything she touches.” Novao jests between bites.
“You exaggerate,” comes your quick defense, although posture unbothered as you take another bite.
“She almost burned down this very tent last time she tried to cook a simple skewer.”
So’lek can see it now. Na’vi running to and fro out of the tent as you stand there looking perplexed by a raging cookfire.
“What can I say? I am not made to bother with this mundane task.” You shrug, leaning back on your elbow to lounge. The new position accentuates the dip of your waist until it curves out into full hips.
“So simple that you purposefully fail at such a boring task?” The questions pops out before he can stop it. But So’lek is slightly startled when you immediately clap a hand down on his knee.
“You see, So’lek understands!” That dainty hand does not immediately retract, resting upon his bare skin there. He hadn't realized how close you were already laying until now. When you cock your head to the side and continue to banter with the other male, that soft hair comes to tickle at his thighs.
Being in your space fills his senses with your scent. An essence so unique and addicting that So’lek once again gets the urge to run for the hills. Instead, he remains diligently unmoving, worried that any small shift will have you shuffling away from him. And basking in an entertaining conversation between friends and a good meal before him, So’lek finds that he is in no hurry to return to headquarters.
It becomes a bad habit of his, looking for excuses to return to the Zeswa home. So’lek had stayed far beyond finishing his meal last time. He blames it on good company, something that seems to be hard for him to keep nowadays. The Sarentu clan joining the resistance has brought him some comfort since but they like him are always busy with their own responsibilities, even further weighed down by scars that are far too fresh.
So’lek had only convinced himself to leave once your mouth watering essence and occasional friendly touches had become far too much for his body to handle. To his utter mortification there had been a stir in his tewng [loincloth] and he knew then that it was important to make a speedy exit.
He’s playing with fire, he knows it. So’lek should be doing everything he can to avoid temptation, not race back towards it. Yet, there is something within him that can’t seem to pass up any excuse there is to return.
“What is wrong?” So’lek reluctantly asks. He doesn’t know how much longer he can silently watch Priya mutter to herself and pace back and forth in front of the monitors. She is on the brink of a full meltdown and as luck would have it, he happens to be the only one in the vicinity as the others take lunch.
“Nothing,” comes her frazzled response. So’lek shrugs, good enough for him. At least he can say he asked. “Well I mean a little more than nothing I guess. Although that really depends on how you look at it.”
So’lek holds back a sigh. So they’re doing this after all.
“It’s just that I sort of forgot to send the coordinates of the new RDA drills sites to the Zeswa after I specifically promised to get it to them within a few days. But I somehow completely forgot, because that’s what I do. Typical Priya. I’m sure at this point they are already upset and-”
“I’ll do it.”
“What?”
“I will share the coordinates with Minang and Nesim. That’s what you need right?”
Priya’s mouth gapes like a fish out of water. She takes an annoying amount of time to gather herself from the apparent shock.
“Well…I mean yes but that would mean traveling all the way to the Zeswa camp you realize.”
“I realize. Give me the demon tablet.” So’lek snips, holding out his hand for the pad. So maybe it’s not that common for him to help Priya after a foolish mistake like this but he still can’t see how that is enough to elicit such a dramatic response. Nor does So’lek want to wait around for her to start questioning his motives.
“Wow um yeah of course. I will grab that for you and uh…” She trails off, spinning around as if she is chasing her nonexistent tail, while really just trying to locate the tablet. Priya finally hands it over with a smile. “Thank you, So’lek. I really appreciate it.”
“Yes. Goodbye.” He has never left headquarters so fast.
Furthermore he manages to make it to Zeswa camp in record time without trying. Walking through the camp he forces himself to make a beeline to Nesim, although a part of him wishes to check the healer’s tent for Minang first. Doing so, however, would only increase the chances of coming across you and getting entirely sidetracked.
Minang and Nesim are far more forgiving of the delay than Priya gives them credit for. It takes some time trying to properly explain the map on the tablet, as it’s their first time truly interacting so closely with these screens, but eventually he manages to relay the proper information and get all of them on track.
The beginnings of plans for certain amushes are made and So’lek is given detailed information to return to HQ. Nesim leaves immediately once the plans are made, anxious to get preparations under way. Minang however hangs back in the tent.
So’lek almost doesn’t notice her presence as he finds himself staring past the tent entrance to where you sit weaving a basket. It feels rare to catch you alone like this but you appear entirely at ease working the fibers together.
“She is one of my assisting healers.” Minang says, almost making So’lek jump out of his skin when she is suddenly by his side. His eyes immediately dart away, feigning a disinterest as he rakes over the scenery equally.
So’lek clears his throat before speaking. “That is good.” Despite the strength of his voice, Minang seems to find some sort of amusement in his response. She wears a neutral expression but even he catches the twitch of her lips.
“I heard the two of you have already met.”
“Briefly.”
“Great. Then she will be perfect.” Minang says with an assured nod.
“Perfect…for what?” A wrinkle settles between his hairless brows as So’lek’s mind races to understand at what point he became so lost in this conversation. Instead of answering his question directly, Minang turns to walk further into the tent. Already moving on to the next task she talks while starting to gather some of her cooking supplies.
“My sister and I have been talking and we’ve decided it would be beneficial for you to learn how to ride a pa’li [direhorse]. The Sarentu has already taken it upon themselves and has progressed immensely. As another ally of the Zeswa it only makes sense you learn some of our ways too. It may become necessary for any future ground attacks.”
She continues to gather her things without facing him, but Minang’s ears perk to hear his response. So’lek can’t remember the last time he has ridden on a pa’li. It would have had to have been briefly as a child, not actually making the bond himself but riding with his father. It was not a common experience among his clan and since then he has never had the opportunity to explore it further.
“I see. That is…logical.”
“Y/n will be happy to teach you. She is an experienced rider. A good karyu [teacher] I think.”
So’lek feels as if there is a rock lodged in his throat.
“I would not wish to lessen her availability in the healer’s tent.”
Minang gives a low chuckle, turning to look at him with a swishing tail and wide smile. “I have plenty of help for the time. Besides, since you two have already met, that would make her the ideal choice.”
“Yes, I see. Although I would not consider us more than strange-”
“I will give her word of this assignment. Return at noon tomorrow for your first lesson.” And with that she saunters out of the tent, leaving So’lek gaping for words and mind lagging to process the turn of events.
Despite having come all this way for the chance to see you, So’lek goes to slightly extreme lengths to escape the tent without your notice. Brisk walk taking him further and further away from your alluring scent, he asks himself how the hell he is supposed to survive lessons in your presence without going entirely over the line. It’s caught in this spiral that he almost misses Novao’s quick greeting. Just a simple wave before the male is turning back to his meal, but it still catches So’lek off guard. Which appears to be the theme of the day.
And perhaps it’s in his head but it feels as if less people shy away from him as he leaves the camp. A few other Na’vi even extend a goodbye nonchalantly.
“Did something happen?” Priya twists to meet So’lek’s far off gaze.
“I have already relayed the information.”
“I think she means did something happen to have you spacing out like that? You’ve hardly said anything since returning.” Anqa steps in, putting an arm around Priya’s shoulder’s as a comforting act.
So’lek stares down at the two tawtute. He’s not sure what they expect of him. Confiding with sky people is not a common practice of his. In fact, confiding in anyone is a rare occasion. Neither does he believe they would have any way of understanding his situation. Priya and Anqa are still so wrapped up in their honeymoon phase that giving them any piece of his love life would only set them off like fireworks. He would never hear the end of it. No doubt they would pry until his patience would run out.
“I will be gone tomorrow.” So’lek says instead.
“Oh, helping the sarentu again?” Anqa inquires.
“The Zeswa require my presence. I will return before eclipse.” And before they can question him any further he retreats to his small living quarters. Despite his quick retreat So’lek can still pick up their gossiping whispers behind him.
Keeping this under wraps may be more difficult than he anticipated. It feels impossible to keep a secret in a place like this, jammed together in a cave with so many tawtute. Then again, this can’t even be qualified as a secret. In order to do so there would have to be actually something to share, and there isn’t. Nothing has occurred between the two of you. It’s just his own imaginings that threaten to get him in trouble.
You, on the other hand, are just fulfilling the requests of your Tsahik and Olo’eyktan. Even doing a little more than asked by extending a friendly welcome to him. With any luck he will learn to ride a pa’li fast enough to stop this from spiraling out of control and involving other unwanted parties.
It’s with this attitude that he makes the trek out the next morning. A strong resolve to stay focused and complete the task at hand efficiently. After all, he’s always been a quick learner. Why should this be any different?
“Starting the day a little grumpy, hm?” He spins around at the sound of your voice. Sauntering from a nearby tent, today you wear a decadent feather top. Something so light and revealing it would only take the right gust of wind to have it shifting. So’lek’s digs his nails into his thighs.
“Um no, I am ready to learn.”
“Oh so that is your focused scowl. Hard to tell the difference.” With a pep to your step, you motion for him to follow. “Well then if you’re so anxious to learn, let’s get started, lazy bones.”
“Of course.” So’lek concedes with a nod, but he doesn’t miss the giggle you try to stifle in front of him. Perhaps he is a little formal, even stiff at times, but most people simply take it as a sign to leave him be. The same is not true in your case.
The sound dies down significantly once the two of you have made it away from the Zeswa camp. Gliding through the tall reeds and plants of the plains there are times where he can only get a glimpse of you through the foliage. So’lek shuffles to keep up. For someone with a significantly shorter stride than him, you sure move fast.
“There you are!” You call with glee before running forward into a clearing. Finally afforded a proper view of the open space, he spots you next to a pa’li, running a hand along its snout. The creature seems to lean into your touch, just as happy to see you as you are her. “I knew you’d be out here somewhere, girl.”
When So’lek steps out of the tall grass the creature immediately stiffens. He goes stock still in response.
“To ride a pa’li you must first show them you are not a threat. Soothe them into letting you approach.”
So’lek nods his head and takes a steadying breath. Unfortunately, it is only a few steps in before the pa’li is rearing back, trying to get out of your hold. You coo softly, giving comforting words and touches until she is back in your space once more.
“Perhaps let’s start without your bow first. Just for now.”
Reluctantly, So’lek slowly removes all forms of weaponry on him and places it on the grass. Try, try and try again, he does all he can to get closer. When you tell him to slow down, he moves at the pace of an insect. When he tries to imitate the cooing sounds you often make it not only has the pa’li running away entirely but also you struggling to hold back your own laughter.
Trying not to notice the way your tail curls in amusement, So'lek persistently continues.
“A pa’li is not like an ikran. There is no show of dominance to win over lifelong loyalty. Instead you must prove yourself to be caring and trustworthy every time you approach.”
It’s good instruction but none of it seems to be doing him any use. For whatever reason, he can not get within a few steps of the direhorse before she is running for the hills. Frustration blooming quickly, So’lek’s jaw clenches.
“You know, the problem is quite clear and simple to fix.” Head tilting to the side you draw forward to him a few steps and this time let the pa’li run off without interference.
“What is it?”
“That scowl. Not the most inviting demeanor.” You point out and a line forms between his brows. So’lek places his hands on his hips, nose scrunching at the remark.
“It is my face. There is nothing I can do to change it.”
“You could try to smile.” You goad, demonstrating a smile of your own. “I’m sure if you put your mind to it, you could manage.”
“I smile.” Apparently not enough considering you are not the first person to make this suggestion. Keeping a stern expression is not always on purpose, but with all that’s happened it somehow feels like a comforting guard set in place. He is not as vulnerable when others have a hard time reading him.
“Alright alright.” You concede with hands raised in surrender. “I believe you. It just would be nice to see.” There is a spark of mischief beneath that comforting smile. And something tells So’lek that you are no longer talking about this just in the context of soothing a pa’li. “Let’s try something different then.”
Air catches in his lungs the second your small fingers are wrapping around his palm. This time, So’lek doesn’t make the mistake of flinching and scaring you off. With rising curiosity he allows himself to be manhandled by your gentle grip. He is pulled along slowly until the pa’li is only a few steps away.
To his surprise the creature does not immediately shy away now that the two of you approach her together. Slowly his hand is coaxed to lay across her snout, but even once it is placed there your touch does not disappear. Your petite fingers remain calmly pressed over the back of his hand. They coax him to create long soothing strokes across the creature’s leathery skin but every now and then your thumb will run over one of the protruding veins of his hand.
Saliva gathers atop of his tongue. He should be focusing on this small success and creating a further bond with the pa’li but all he can feel is you. Buttery soft skin and dazzling eyes that peek up at him with praise on your tongue.
Getting so worked up over something so simple is truly ridiculous and he can’t quite figure out when or how you gained this power over him.
Soothing the pa’li is one thing but making the bond and mounting the creature happens to be another feat entirely. It takes at least a dozen times to make the bond and mount once but even that only lasts for a few seconds before he is bucked off. Once. Then twice. Then the third time he is catapulted into the lake.
Breaching the shallow pool, So’lek’s lips turn downwards and he can’t keep back a frustrated grunt. His eyes narrow when they settle on your form nearly hunching over from laughter. Wiping the mud from his brow his gaze is enough to have you trying to stifle your amusement weakly.
“You are laughing.” He deadpans.
“No no I am not,” You clear your throat in efforts to stop the giggles as you wade into the water where he sits. “I am not laughing.”
So’lek doesn’t know what comes over him. An action born from pure emotion, but when he accepts your extended hand of help he doesnt use it to hoist himself up but instead yanks on it hard. With very little force you easily go flying to the ground next to him and beneath the water. A shocked sound escapes your throat the second you resurface.
An apology is on the tip of his tongue but you don’t give him a chance.
“Oh I see how it is.” With a threateningly deep chuckle you are already rearing up and splashing a wave of water over him. Whatever amends he was ready to make are chucked aside as he shakes the water from his braids and his tail curls in excitement.
You are back on your feet and running before he is halfway up. Fast little thing, you are. But it’s no matter, with the adrenaline now racing through his veins it is only a matter of time before he catches up. Splashing, pushing and even tripping all go underway until both of you are covered in lake mud. It’s like being a child again, his hands grasping for your tail at every chance he gets, your own smaller hands managing to fling mud into his braids.
So’lek’s own deep laughter rumbles in his chest far before he realizes it. An insatiable thrill runs through him as the two of you indulge in play that he has not experienced since he was half this height. And when you tackle him back into the water he comes to find that for the first time in a long time he has forgotten about his nagging objectives.
He is drunk on your laugh, the way it rings like a beautiful chime in the upper plains wind. Lazily sprawled next to you he tries to reel back his own chuckling just as your chest heaves for air.
“I knew you could smile.” You manage between breaths. So’lek only has a second to understand your words before there is a distant boom. Head whipping towards the source of the sound he finds it comes from far east. One of the many drilling sites he had shared the coordinates of. He’s ready to shrug it off and continue, far accustomed to the dreadful noise and what it means at this point, but when So’lek turns back to look at you that feeling immediately shifts.
Your ears are pulled back, almost tucked beneath your hair. Tail limp beneath the water and blank stare fixated in the difference. For the first time since meeting you there are no traces of a smile, not a flicker or spark in those beautiful eyes. Something heavy hangs there in its place. And the breakneck change in demeanor gives him chills.
It’s as if you’ve forgotten he is there. That usually curving and free moving posture has now straightened into a locked position.
“It is a drilling site in the east. Several miles away.” So’lek says carefully. There is no telling whether or not his comment makes it better or worse, but with a smooth voice he continues. “It is from a drill that they use to make a hole in the ground.”
‘What?” You whisper, almost as if coming out of a daze.
“That is what you are hearing. It is an awful sound.” His muzzle wrinkles at the truth of his words. So’lek has come far closer to those dreadful machines then he ever would have liked but at least he now has experienced first hand how they can be stopped. Still, there are nightmares that echo with that Eywa forsaken sound occasionally.
With a hesitant hand he starts to reach out to place it on your shoulder. “It is alright to be scared.”
He doesn’t make contact before you are whipping back.
“I am not scared.” Hastily you spring up onto your feet and back towards the shore. It feels as if the moment has shattered like glass before he could even understand it, leaving him reeling to catch up. “Come, let’s get back to work.” Tone hard and words clipped, you are already out of his reach.
So’lek is careful not to bring up the drill again, or any RDA activity for that matter. He pretends not to notice that you’ve changed the location of his training further from the drill site. And when he enters the next day he is on edge, watching your features for any signs of distress.
Surprisingly, you seem to have switched back to your usual friendliness. It’s as if that conversation never happened and since So’lek is more than lost on what to do he easily follows your lead in not talking about it. In fact, as more lessons come and go it becomes easier to follow your lead in many things.
You are a talkative woman, always chattering about your opinions on different matters (big or small) or filling him in on the intricate inner workings of Zeswa clan gossip. At this point he could probably name just about every clan member from their pieces in your stories alone. When you’re sharing so much like this, it becomes only natural to divulge some information himself.
You ask about the resistance headquarters, about how many tawtute live there, what they eat. Even more personal things like where he manages to sleep and how he fills his days outside of his pa’li lessons. Although at first feeling a little put on the spot, So’lek eventually warms to this line of questioning. You are simply a curious individual and when you soak in every mundane detail he gives with a vibrant excitement and big wide eyes, it’s hard to not enjoy the attention.
Learning to ride a pa’li is exceedingly more trying than he had anticipated. Even once he has learned how to mount and start a smooth walk, navigating and getting up to a gallop feels like starting from ground zero again. Despite these difficulties, the extended lessons don’t bother him as he would have expected.
Some days you greet him with leftovers from Navao’s newest creations (letting him learn the hard way that you’re right about some of them having physical consequences) and other days it is him that brings back foraged fruit or random trinkets from HQ you might find interesting. Those meals are shared in the tall grass of the plains, stories filtering out of your lips faster than he can keep up with as he watches your long hair dancing in the wind.
There is one question, however, that you never ask him. Perhaps because you already know what happened to his clan. So’lek doesn’t share the story of his clan decimation by the RDA, but word travels. The memory of his people has become a cautionary tale. Not much more than a story to rile anger and motivation to bring the sky people down once and for all. The Sarentu clan shared a similar fate, but they have each other. Even a handful of people is a desirable clan in his eyes.
It’s a week into the lessons that So’lek finds himself at the Zeswa camp early. He had come across a patch of tsawksyul [pandoran ‘sunflowers’] earlier that morning and was gathering it without thought. He has no use for the delicate flowers but it seems right to leave it with you. Surely you are more than happy to find ways of weaving it into a new intricate top. He’s heard enough about your designs to understand it’s a passion of yours.
So with a little too much anticipation and haste, So’lek enters the camp early in search of your bright smile. It’s your voice, though, that he hears first. It filters from the healer’s tent. Lurking on the opposite of the doorway So’lek goes to round the structure and enter but he stops midway.
“Is this about the man from the tawtute clan?”
“His name is So’lek.” You remind the anonymous female, gently.
Every muscle in his body freezes at the sound of his name. This is wrong. Listening in on a private conversation is bad enough, even when it is not about you. Yet, his neck cranes to see if anyone else is around instead. Since he is on the opposite side of the tent there is not a soul to note his presence yet and So’lek simply can’t get himself to move from the spot.
“And why do you assume it would be about him? Does there have to be another man involved in order for me to take time to thoroughly consider Ra’vang’s courtship?” You challenge and the other female lets out a sigh.
“Of course not, but you have been spending an awful lot of time with him.”
“Naturally,” comes your simple reply, entirely unbothered. “I am teaching him as I was instructed.”
“Yeah I know and you’re very kind to do so but you have to admit he is a little…strange.”
“That is not true! He has simply been through shit that you haven’t.” All softness bleaches from your voice.
“Woah! Okay, retract the claws. I am sorry. I did not mean to insinuate anything negative by it.” He recognizes your little huff in response. “It’s just that the two of you are very different. That’s all I’m trying to say. He is very…stiff.”
A beat passes and through the tent material he swears he catches the shake of your head. “So’lek is selective when it comes to socializing. He may come off serious but there is a lot more beneath that hard exterior than you would realize. It’s simply not on show for everyone.”
It feels as if a wire has been tired around his heart, his lungs furthermore forgetting to take in needed oxygen.
“I admit I do not claim to know him as well as you do. But…I can not imagine living in such close quarters with sky people like that. Always surrounded by metal.”
“Of course you can not. Most people are not cut out for such a task. But we benefit from the Resistance’s aid, so perhaps we should be grateful that So’lek is capable of dealing with it.”
“Okay okay, I see your point, sister. Just…be careful what decisions you make right now. Ra’vang is a strong warrior and provider. Even if it’s not him you have other options, many good ones. Spontaneity may be your specialty but I’d hate for you to let a good mating pass by simply because you are not thinking this through properly.”
You give a small sigh but it’s light, void of anything but fondness.
“If there is one thing I do know it’s that love is not something to be analyzed and bash one’s own head over. I think things through, but I know how to listen to the song of my own heart too. I don’t make it a practice to question what it tells me.”
So’lek staggers away. Any longer in that spot and he risks being seen, or sending his thoughts into a further tangled mess. He looks down at the flowers in hand. You defended him, said a lot more than most people would have. It fosters an unfathomable fire in his chest and yet it’s tampered by a reality he wishes to not face.
You have suitors. Real men of the clan that are not only native to this culture and lifestyle but also expressing interest through real courting displays. If your friend’s words are anything to go off of, you’ve gathered many good prospects. And why wouldn't that be true? It’s easy to imagine what they would see in a woman like you. Easy because it’s everything he sees too.
But So’lek….
So’lek is not Zeswa. He hardly has traces of the lifestyle from his own clan within him. The years have shaped him into somewhat of a mut in Na’vi breeding. He does not know the way of any clan how he should and there is a darkness within him that rages for revenge. These men have been brought up to take care of someone like you. They are able to give you so much more than he ever could and yet here he stands with a courting gift in hand like a true skxawng [idiot].
Whether or not it was intentional is irrelevant. If he gives these flowers to you it will surely be a sign of interest. He will instigate himself as a competitor in this game that he has no right playing.
So’lek discreetly slips them into a basket of herbs in one of the tents. Someone else will find use for them, but it won’t be in his hands when you arrive.
The entanglement of his thoughts leaves his body buzzing with energy. So much so that even though he hardly hears a word you say during the lesson, he somehow manages to conjure up enough tenacity to stay atop the pa’li while in a gallop. And then faster and faster he pushes the creature with that racing adrenaline he sends down the bond.
The whip of the wind, the strain of his muscles, all of them work to offset the mental exhaustion that is quickly blossoming. And then his golden eyes finally take in the scene before him. Tall grass races beside him on every side. Trees of crimson leaves dot the open field where arrow deer scurry and Soundblast colossus nap near the sparkling river.
The plains are monumental. It settles a deep awareness of its grandeur.
Your celebratory yips and hollers echo from behind.
And rushing through this scene feels like flying for the first time again.
Completing the training finally gives So’lek room for a breather. He stunts the disappointment at not seeing you every day with the knowledge that this will only simplify the situation. Without being kept in close quarters he will be free to devote himself entirely to taking down the RDA and you will be free to explore courtings and potential matings without his interference.
Luckily there is more than enough work to keep him busy now that they are preparing to go up against the largest drilling site to date. When your laughter echoes through his mind, So’lek goes through the RDA rosters until his eyes burn and a headache clouds all thoughts. When his brain compulsively conjures up your teasing jests being directed at another suitor, he hunts feral viperwolves until he is covered in scratches and forced to the hospital wing.
And it is only once that he accidentally crushes a mug in his grip in front of Alex and Anqa as he envisions another man’s tongue running over your luscious curves. He chalks it up to tension created by the upcoming battle, but it’s clear Anqa has shared the occurrence when Priya gives him worried looks for several days after.
Despite his busy work, So’lek finds himself relieved when the day of the ambush finally arrives. It is the first time the Zeswa and the Resistance have worked together in combat and the air buzzes with excitement. He only thinks of you for a moment when he mounts a pa’li and joins the Zeswa in leading the majority of RDA firepower towards the hills.
A small band of Zeswa warriors, tawtute soldiers, and the Sarentu clan work together to infiltrate the base quietly, taking down the drill from the inside.
Hours feel only like minutes when his body is pumping with adrenaline. It begins and is over all before he can really process it and by some Eywa given miracle, not only do they succeed but there are only injuries to be accounted for. Muscles aching, forehead beaded with sweat, and entire body still pulsing from the intense vibrations of close range gun power, So’lek heaves a deep sigh of relief. A tangible weight lifts from his shoulders, a peace that is often fleeting but something he has learned to enjoy while it lasts.
There will be more to do tomorrow. The RDA are nowhere near exterminated, but for now he basks in the knowledge that they are one step closer to ridding them for good. The Zeswa holler and cry into the wind with a passion that seems to shake the very hills. Even those that are injured take part in celebrating this victory.
Watching the scene makes his chest swell with foreign feelings. So many times he has been left to reflect on the aftermath of his solo missions without another to share that moment with. Celebrations occasionally occur at headquarters but never has it felt like this. And his lungs seize, almost bursting with the need to let out his own cry in the mix of their allies. It calls to a part within him that often feels buried away, even forgotten. An instinctual part of him that is true Na’vi, a creature that has a place in Pandora’s beauty.
Years worth of turmoil releases in that guttural cry and to So’lek’s surprise, it is a sound of pure elation that rings from him.
It was within that spirit or triumph that So’lek had been extended an invitation by Nesim to join them in festivities. Although noncommittal in his response, he finds himself preparing to leave headquarters hours later. The tawtute and Sarentu work together to create their own party in the dinghy cave. A part of him feels as if he should be there for it, a party of outcasts that he has grown accustomed to associating himself with. But that primal cry remains trapped in his chest. It calls him to the plains.
And so for once, So’lek decides to let himself celebrate.
There are little memories left of clan parties, most just blurry images of firelight and dancing shadows. They are only mere facades in comparison to the burst of conviviality that So’lek can hear within a mile of camp.
Walking through the center of camp there are very few Na’vi still residing there, most simply rushing to and fro in search of supplies or friends before scampering back to where the real party is being held. Down the hill he can see towering flames and a gaggle of bodies dancing with fervor.
He takes a step, then pauses.
So’lek’s fingers are hesitant as they undo the clasps of his chest guard, but it eventually loosens and slides down his arms to rest in the grass. He sets aside his bow, his gun, and every piece that is made of metal or meant as a weapon. Even his arm guard is placed neatly in that pile.
The wind nips at his vulnerable form and So’lek is once again struck by how naked he feels without these things. This time though, he settles into that discomfort. This is a party. One night where he will not plot his revenge or sharpen his weapons. A single night where he can pretend to belong.
The last streaks of fiery red disperse from the sky and in their wake, eclipse conjures Pandora’s bioluminescent glow. Tahni [star-like freckles] light along his exposed skin. So’lek’s ears perk the closer he gets to the party. The very thrum of the heavy drums vibrates at the soles of his feet, reverberating to punch him in the chest.
There is a vibrance in the air, an energy so palpable it feels as if he can taste it on his tongue. Whatever drug has infused the scene, it seems to spread rapidly among the celebrating parties. Zeswa of all ages and stations are muffled together in a form of dancing that So’lek can only describe as pure frenzy.
Movement without direction. Feet atop the wind as if a fire has been lit beneath them.
It is unlike anything So’lek has ever witnessed before. His golden eyes flicker frantically across the parade before him, unsure of what to take in first. The very air in his lungs is filled with the hickory essence of smoked meat. Even his ears flutter across his braids, attacked by the onslaught of sound.
And then, there is you.
Right in the very heart of the festivities, as he could have guessed. His overstimulated senses finally find a target, settling entirely on the way you move within the crowd. Much like the rest of the Zeswa your body moves with unabashed enthusiasm. There is no rhyme or reason to the swivel and swish of your small form. You act on pure instinct, a reaction of feeling to the euphoric buzz around you. Pure elation.
It is a complete disregard of outside perceptions. There is nothing but your windswept joy and the music that moves you to and fro. Although the entire scene is curious by nature to him, there is something about you that constantly pulls him in. And that’s what it is. Your presence is magnetic. It draws not only So’lek in but everyone around you, it’s clear in every reaction he has witnessed.
You are a free spirit. You move through life as if nothing could ever clip your wings and for all he can tell, you may just be right. Because even in the midst of grief and war, your scars act as the embers to light a vibrant sun in your countenance, until that empathetic warmth seeps to those around you.
The female next to you, her name Ta’kuri he believes, leans over to converse with you over the pounding music. So’lek’s heart drops to his stomach when she points a finger in his direction and your eyes snag his form. Your responding smile is bright upon spotting him, but So’lek can only focus on the fact that he has potentially been caught staring.
Small form practically swallowed by the crowd it takes a moment for you to extract yourself from the mesh of bodies. Just enough time for So’lek to calm his heart and feign shown interest elsewhere to cover up for his flub. When you saunter to the outskirts he purposefully waits a beat before sliding his gaze in your direction.
“Well if it isn’t my star pupil, oeyӓ numeyu [my student]. You actually showed up.” You are all teeth, grin center stage as you pin him with those golden eyes.
“Kaltxi karyu [hello teacher],” The edges of his lips twist into a lopsided smile without permission. “Nesim invited me.”
“And now you are here. Finally ready to have some fun, yes?” Chin tilted downward and brow raised, you give him a look that suggests the only correct answer is yes. He feels the snap of a retort at the edge of his tongue. Something about how he is not the grumpy pants you always claim him to be and how he does in fact find time to enjoy himself on occasion. But those are words spoken far before he decided to leave you be. So’lek is trying to be good, desperately trying to be respectful and do the right thing.
“The celebration is very enjoyable.”
“Very enjoyable?” You scoff with a half laugh. “How could you even know? You have not even begun dancing yet.”
So’lek immediately staggers a few steps back, at the speed of a prey avoiding a lethal blow. “No no, I am content to enjoy the party here, paskalin [honey/sweetheart].” Shit! He can’t fathom at what point he gave his mouth permission to utter such an affectionate term. So’lek’s insides twist and for perhaps the first time in years his cheeks fill with heat. He thanks Eywa above that the darkness is enough to hide the new tint.
Despite his slip up, your grin never falters, in fact it seems to widen until dimples form in your cheeks. “So’lek you need not be stubborn every time I ask something of you.”
When you catch his wrist in a surprisingly strong hold he is left with no other option but to wobble behind you. “I do not know how to dance. I was never taught.” He shouts to you over the music.
Throwing a smile over your shoulder you do not respond until he has successfully been pulled into the edges of the crowd. “There is nothing to teach.” You say, dropping his hand to face him. “Dancing is the opposite of thinking, So’lek. You simply feel.”
“That is not the comfort you believe it to be.”
Your laugh is barely audible over the roaring drums. “What you need is some liquid courage then.” With a wave of your hand Novao is flagged over. His eyes roll but the swish of his tail is friendly when he comes over to hand two skins of liquor over.
“You are an angel.” You giggle, taking the containers with glee.
“So much more than you realize.” Novao snorts before giving your shoulder a teasing bump and sauntering back towards the cookfire. So’lek barely has his hand wrapped around one of the skins before you are chugging back the other.
When squinted eyes peek up at him over the rim you finally take a breath and push at his hand. “Novao is proficient when it comes to strong drink, I promise.”
Not wishing to feel out of place for any longer, he slants his lips over the rim and takes an ambitious guilt. Regret immediately stings his throat as it slides down like pure fire. The responding choke that comes from him immediately after is utterly humiliating. Eyes already welling with tears, So’lek does everything in his power to shut up the ridiculous sound and gain whatever is left of his composure.
“A little strong, huh?” There is a giggling shrill to your tone but a flicker in your gaze shows concern simultaneously. So’lek is shaking his head before you can even suggest a glass of water.
“No no it is fine just,” He clears his throat, “...different.”
And different it is in comparison to what he has had. It is only now that it hits him how long it has been since tasting anything even close to resembling alcohol. There are a few tawtute at headquarters that occasionally try their hand at brewing alcohol but it is nothing short of fowl and disappointing. There are no inebriating effects from such water down drink, especially consider he is the twice the height of the intended party.
So what comes next is completely out of his control. His body is rendered utterly unprepared for the strong drink that he continues to consume in spite of his better judgment and the fact that you don’t continue to urge him to drink. However, So’lek is no child. He is a man, and one that should be able to hold his liquor so when you occasionally blink up at him or catch a glance from the corner of your eye to make sure he is doing alright, it warps his pride to push him into foolishly drinking down even more.
“Okay I think that is enough.” It takes rising onto your toes in order to reach the rim pointed at his lips. That apparent show of height difference should not please him so much but there is no denying the thrill that tightens his chest. “Now you dance.”
Braids clinking together he is already resisting as you continue to pull him deeper into the crowd. “I truly do not know-”
“Yes yes, I heard you before. I will assist you.” Peering up at him through thick lashes, your hip bumps against his thigh softly as you tack on, “Or do you not trust me?”
That is the line that sinks him. Head already feeling floaty, So’lek lets you maneuver him into position.
Small hands skate across his shoulder blades, for a moment those talented thumbs press into the muscles there just as you had done upon your first meeting. “You are too tense. You must relax.”
Easier said than done when there is a line of electricity left behind every inch of skin you touch. But sooner than later he finds his shoulders loosening, starting to sway in a weird motion that seems pointless but actually fits with the rhythm of drums. A burst of confidence fills him when you step back to face him from the front again, trusting him enough to continue the motion.
“There you go! Learning already.” And just as the simpering student he feels like he is would, So’lek perks up at the praise. Those flirty smiles and encouraging words coupled with the strong drink running through his veins, it becomes all too easy to let his body go without thought.
Regardless, you continue to guide him. So’lek falls into line with whatever movement feels natural from your promptings. For the first time in years a fuzziness takes over that nagging voice of responsibility and he lets his body take precedence over his overactive brain. The more liquid fire he consumes the easier it becomes to not imagine what he must look like on the outside. Every fiber of his being gravitates towards the addicting pulse of those drums. Drowning in that vibrant energy until he is also engulfed in the crowd of Zeswa.
Other Na’vi surround him from every side but it’s your touch that pulses through him. A brush of fingers along his arm, his bicep. The zapping electricity every time that dainty hand clasps his own to pull him closer. Even the tickle of your hair in the wind brushing his chest has him fighting back a full body shiver.
Dancing is not a brash display, although some excel in that arena. No, dancing is the mechanism that pulls you closer to the touch you crave. The perfect opportunity to let hands wander, to mold bodies together without social consequence. And now, So’lek finally understands the rave over this activity.
So’lek doubts he could confirm whether or not his head is still attached to his shoulders with the amount of alcohol running through him. However, there is no more vivid memory than the one of his hands mapping your frame. They encase your sides, ribs, up to your shoulders over your collarbones, feeling the silky skin beneath as you curve into every brush of his greedy hands. It’s when one hand mindlessly curves around the nape of your neck, the two scents mingling in the most satisfying of ways, that So’lek finally catches the burn of another’s stare.
It radiates from a male off on the sidelines. Each hand holds a skin of strong drink while the male attempts to burn a hole into So’lek’s head through slitted eyes. Something rumbles at the back of So’lek’s head. A voice that tells him there is some reason he should be upset by this situation, but that caution is muffled. It rings out like a message shouted from the deepest part of the lake and So’lek can’t find it within himself to spend more than a few seconds trying to decode it.
It’s not just you that distracts him. Ta’kuri is suddenly on his left shouting some sort of encouraging words over the music. There’s no making sense of it but before he knows it there are more Na’vi that join the mix. Even Novao meshes with the crowd at some point, slurred conversation passing between him and every Na’vi he meets. Some friends lean on each other to stop from collapsing on the ground in their drunken state while others flourish in a flutter of moves that has the fields buzzing with cheers. So’lek’s own voice joins the other exuberant shouts.
To call the event hectic would be an understatement but every time So’lek feels as if he may be the one to topple over next, there is a small hand at the base of his spine. Gorgeous golden eyes and a bright smile peering up to remind him that you are watching over him.
So’lek dances until his ears ring. He dances until the very soles of his feet have grown bruised from landing on the hard ground. It is only when you are stumbling across the long grass, caught by his strong hands desperately trying to pull you back up that the two of you decide to trail off from the dance floor.
“Save some drink for the rest of us, sister.” Ta’kuri jests, tapping your nose once before helping So’lek pick you up from the ground. That sweet voice seems to be in a constant state of giggling, a sound So’lek is in no rush to rid himself of.
The two of you find yourselves back in the middle of camp around a fire thanks to Ta’kuri. Several other Zeswa stagger to the outskirts of the cookfire, some already sloppily rolling in the dirt with greedy hands wandering into dangerous territory. The outright display of lust hardly fazes So’lek when his attention is caught by a leaf of meat handed to him. Tender and sweet, it settles in his stomach heavily, finally starting to soak up the excess of alcohol consumed.
You are just as consumed by the food as he is, scarfing down the last bit with a delighted moan.
“Alright you miscreants, let’s leave some room for oxygen.” An older male grumbles fondly, softly nudging a couple with his foot who are engaged in a heated lip lock. He settles around the fire and after several minutes of squinting So’lek makes out the figure to be Kin. Although his thoughts still muddle through a haze, So’lek can finally feel his brain starting to come back online.
Kin engages the group in grand stories while offering milk to be passed around. From the corner of his eye So’lek tracks the way you sway to and fro as the stories continue, but that smile never leaves your tempting lips. Several times you sneak a peek up at him, causing his tail to wind against the floor.
“This story again.” Ta’kuri mutters from his left, quiet enough that Kin continues the tale without interruption.
“He has only told it a dozen times before.” Novao adds, sitting on the other side of you. “That is quite good considering how many times he has told the others.”
“I don’t remember this one.” Lips screwed into a pout and eyes squinted in concentration, you stare intently at the male in the middle. Ta’kuri lets out a short laugh before handing over another container of milk.
“You don’t remember any of them when you're drunk.” You accept the drink, ignoring her fond scoff and the way So’lek’s gaze is once again drawn in your direction.
“So rude,” you huff. He lends a steadying hand when chugging down the bowl of milk has you toppling backwards. A deep laugh rumbles in his chest with ease, even once you are back upright and sending him a heated glare.
Playful comments and quotes of the story are passed between the four in hushed tones until even So’lek is fighting back tears of laughter. Luckily the other Na’vi do not behave much better, half of them already on the brink of wrestling in the grass or laughing until on the verge of passing out. The entire scene is a messy jumble of comradery. It warms him from the inside out.
“I left it down by the lake.” Novao whispers urgently.
“You should not be so careless with your things. Who’s to say an arrow deer has not run off with it by now?” Ta’kuri quips back, still even So’lek can tell that she is going to go back and look for his spear with him as requested.
“I see it is not only Kin making up stories now.” The joke earns him a swift swat to the head with a few fond insults woven before the two are rising.
“Can I trust the two of you to survive until we get back?” She gestures between So’lek and you, a crooked curve of her lips present. It’s doubtful that you have understood even half of where the conversation is at this point but you do respond in a way that both shocks and amuses him greatly. Fingers together at your forehead you flick it out messily in the same way the sky demons do in salute. It’s imperfect and honestly he’s not sure if there is any true understanding of the action but it appears to be an inside joke that Ta’kuri is in on. She returns the gesture with a fond grin.
So’lek doesn’t try to break the silence once the pair has left. It’s hardly uncomfortable with such jovial ambience surrounding. Not to mention the fact that he’s not sure how of a conversation you can carry in this state. It makes no difference. Sitting here is nice. Being next to you is fulfilling in a way he could not have imagined.
“I lied.”
So’lek’s ears stand at alert. Your comment comes so abruptly that he takes a second to lean forward and make sure that you had meant to say it. Those beautiful eyes are transfixed off in the distance but there is no sign to say otherwise.
“About what?” So’lek shifts forward, propping an elbow on his knee as he veers forward to observe your strange expression.
“About not being scared.” It’s a miracle he can detect that whisper over the boisterous conversation around. A part of him wishes he hadn’t. It creates a knot in his stomach. “I am scared. I’m scared all the time. Even on days like this, I should be happy. But I still worry that it could all be ripped away. I don’t want to lose everything, not like…”
The end of that thought dies in the wind but So’lek catches it anyways.
Don’t want to lose everything like he did. One glance at your now pinned back ears proves his suspicions to be correct. Comforting others is not his strong suit. Heavy emotions have a way of winding his tail anxiously as he sputters to understand the right course of action. But tonight, he is grateful for the lowered inhibitions brought on by liquor. It’s what allows him to pause and simply feel the weight of your words.
So’lek’s rough hand, a hand battered by handling weapons in the face of war, settles over your knee. That warm touch has glistening eyes staring back at him.
“That is not going to happen.” It is a vow, one that is spoken deep from his chest. The Sky People have stolen everything from him. Everything. But he is not afraid to protect you from the same fate. To promise with the last meager supply of hope he has left that he can and will prevent this tragedy from coming your way.
A single tear cascades over your cheek. Then you’re suddenly curled up against him, resting that head of long hair against his shoulder, seeking refuge there. It bursts something new within him, something even scarier than he has experienced since meeting you. Never in his life has he been a safe place for another person. That honor has never been one he’s opened himself up to or has felt worthy of.
But you tuck against him, sigh into his neck and every form of tension in your tiny frame evaporates.
“Fuck, I’m so drunk.” Your half giggled slur coaxes out a deep chuckle from him but So’lek is careful not to move otherwise. This moment is too fragile. And if he’s not careful in a blink it will be tomorrow. A day where he puts that chest guard back on along with every other responsibility he has holstered alone for years. That yearning for revenge will return and clean out the softness that only you can supply.
So’lek can’t recall at what point he had fallen asleep. The last thing he remembers is Novao laughing so hard that milk came out his nose. Eyes as heavy as metal doors, he squints them open to find the sky still dark. He is not the only one to have dosed off in the middle of camp around the fire. Different groups of Na’vi are passed out in the greenery but there is a warmth at his side.
You are curled up into a ball, a ball that is slotted against his own body. Even your face presses at the bicep, your nose cold to the touch. Without the protection of tent walls, the breeze is free to brush over the gaggle of Na’vi. Somewhere in your slumber you must have sought out the first available source of heat. Him.
The wind comes from your direction. So’lek is hardly conscious enough to consider tucking you into a tent for the night so instead he does the next best thing. With careful precision, he lifts himself up over your curled frame and settles himself on the other side. This way the wind now hits him before you. Laying on his side then allows him to create a wall that you can hide from the wind behind.
A shiver sends down his spine at the first nip of plains of air, but So’lek doesn’t dare consider moving. Legs untangle and your tail splays out flat again. Although it’s clear this tactic has warmed you up nicely, he is shocked to see you turning over to face him once more. Breath caught in his chest, So’lek watches as you groggily tuck up against him and sigh with a smile.
How many years had it been since he has slept this close to someone?
So’lek has had occasional lovers, but only as means to an end. Nothing deep. Never anything on an emotional level for either party. And so naturally neither did they end in snuggling close to sleep afterwards.
Call it pride. Call it living in denial. But something pushes him to forget about tomorrow and cocoon you closer to his chest.
So’lek’s dreams don’t carry the strain of blood and terror that night.
“There you go, rise and shine sleepyhead.” That soft voice barely filters through the wind, let alone through So’leks head that now feels like the weight of a tank. Throat dry and eyes barely able to slit open to face the light, consciousness comes back slowly.
And when it does, it hurts like hell.
You lean over to block him from the scorching sunlight. When did the plains get so bright? And when did waking up feel like getting his head smashed beneath an AMP suit? The events of last night are still tucked in his memory, but it takes a moment for So’lek to recall the impact of them properly. And that last thing….the last thing he remembers is you snuggling up against his chest.
“How long did-”
“No talking, just drink.” You advise, handing over a bowl of water sternly. Although slightly embarrassing, he’s grateful for the way you help him slowly sit up. It’s hard to get his wits about him when the world is still spinning.
The cold water spears a painful path down his throat, but after several gulps it’s much easier to take in full breaths. The small hand gently placed on his shoulder is a surprising comfort. However, even in a foggy state, that simple touch immediately has him recalling what a true comfort it was to have you in his arms.
No time in his right mind would he have acted on his impulses so carelessly. But last night he had felt entirely detached from time, even more so distant from the side of him that served to do the right thing.
“I fear I owe you an apology.” Although your lips are quirked in a half smile, the comment has him stiff as a board. Here it is. The consequences of his actions. In no way did he have the right to act so intimately with a woman of a clan he does not belong to. And now you have finally come to realize that for yourself. “I did not warn you properly of Zeswa drink.”
A sense of relief bubbles up so fast that So’lek lets a half laugh slip from his lips. It is graciously accepted with a beaming countenance that makes his heart race.
“No it is fine, simply….different from what I have tried before.”
“Well if I knew you were such a lightweight I wouldn’t have suggested it.” You are never one to give up an opportunity to tease him. It is a routine that he has incidentally become quite fond of. Even more so now when there is a twinkle of sincere concern in your beautiful features.
You care. It’s not the first time you have shown it and So’lek prays that it won’t be the last, but it seems time has only made the impact of this truth hit him that much harder each time. It flushes through like fire in his veins, far more addicting than the rush of Zeswa alcohol could ever be.
“I have no regrets,” So’lek says, deep voice rich with sincerity.
Fingers twiddling in your lap, there is a switch in your demeanor that is hard to ignore. Looking at him through thick lashes and grin barely held by teeth snagging your bottom lip, for the first time a sliver of shyness twinkles in your expression. Although, it is clear that your higher tolerance has afforded a much less dramatic hangover leaving him to look like a mess in comparison, it feels as if he has the upper hand for once.
“Really? Even now that your head must want to split in two?” That radiant sunshine you hold has his already weakened composure splitting instead. His gravely chuckle intertwines with your own soft laugh and So’lek doesn’t even realize how close he has invaded your space until the next words leave his mouth.
“It was worth it. I wouldn’t trade last night for anything.”
The severity of his own statement hits like a boulder. Both smiles drop and So’lek is left grappling with the fact that he has meant every word.
Softened eyes peer straight through him, but these are not full of sympathy. There is no pity extended at now realizing how sad most of his nights must be. There is no squirming to find the right response or looking away with an uncomfortable grimace.
No, you face him with that excitement that feels like he is bathing in the sun after years of wallowing in darkness.
“I’m glad.” It’s a small whisper, very much unlike your usual robust calls. And just when So’lek’s eyes have wandered to watch the way your supple lips form those words, he finds that your stare has pinpointed on his own. Golden eyes dart back and forth between his parted lips and So’lek’s own stare.
There is still that voice that cautions to pull back now. It’s the same voice that screams to curl up and escape your attention before it’s too late.
But you don’t hide. There is only honesty in your curious perusal.
For once maybe he can find a way not to hide too.
So’lek breaches the space between you, leaning forward slowly until there is only a whisper of wind between him and the kiss he has desired for weeks. Your noses almost touch.
“Y/N! Where have you gone? You are needed.” A masculine voice calls from around the corner. There is no one else around the desolate fire where the two of you reside. You make no sign of responding to this call. If he veers forward there will still be enough time to capture what he has dreamed of before the two of you are found out.
However, So’lek recognizes this voice. It belongs to the same man that had tried to glare a hole through him last night as the two of you danced and so it’s easy to deduce that this must be one of your awaiting sutors.
A Zeswa male born and raised. A real viable prospect that So’lek is now on the edge of stealing you away from. This is exactly why he has stayed away. And yet all it has taken is one more night in your presence to lose every ounce of self control he has left.
So’lek veers back. The look of quiet disappointment that crosses your face is enough to twist a knot in his stomach.
The male rounds the tent, letting out an exasperated sigh upon spotting the two. “Ah there you are.”
“What is it?” You hiss, head snapping in his direction so fast that your hair flies over one shoulder.
So’lek doesn’t need to look to feel the way this man’s eyes dart between the two of you.
“Ke’ari is hurling his insides all over the healer’s tent.”
Soft features immediately pinch with irritation.
“Aim him towards a vase then. He is one of many who are suffering from over indulgence. I am still treating So’lek. He needs food.”
“I have brought him some.” Of course he has. A deep loathing for the other male may already be forming but So’lek can’t ignore the craft of this suitor. He did not come unprepared.
Hand running through your hair, you take a moment to look up at the sky and conjure the required patience.
“Fine.” The male is unperturbed by your snipped response. He does, however, glower when your expression melts once facing So’lek once more. “Wait here. I will be right back.”
It’s tempting to savor the longing in your voice, the way those honest eyes practically plead for him to stay.
But it’s too late. So’lek regains the reins of his own heart and forces himself to flee at the first chance. The frowning male has no time to implement his intimidation tactics before So’lek is rising onto wobbly legs and searching to retrieve his gear.
He slips that protective armor back on and leaves without taking a single bite.
So’lek’s eyes burn from staring at the bright screen, hardly blinking while trying to decode the mess that is RDA rosters. Little progress is made as he stares down at the shining pad in hand and tries for the fifteenth time to pay attention. Perhaps it was a mistake not eating the offered meal this morning. Even if your eager suitor had poisoned it, he doubts dying from it would feel worse than the egregious hangover he suffers now.
Leaning back against the table, So’lek’s eyes wander again without permission. Headquarters is unusually quiet today, a sign that the party they threw last night was successful enough to put many in the same state So’lek finds himself in the morning after. Priya and Anqa are up, however. Tucked into an alcove near the kitchen they seem to be under the impression that no one can see them here.
Priya’s giggling echoes through the cave and Anqa only shushes her several times before diving back in for another kiss. Usually this is the part where So’lek’s face scrunches in disgust before he flees to a place he won’t be forced to witness such displays. Today that isn’t the case. In fact today, for reasons unbeknownst to him, So’lek can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the scene.
“Suffering as well I see.” The voice startles him, almost enough to lose grip of the glowing pad in hand. Shuffling to avert his gaze from the two lovers and appear nonchalant, he looks over to find it is Ri’nela that approaches with an amused smile. “From the hangover.” She clarifies.
“Oh yes…you are unwell too?” The dark mark on his forehead pinches together when she comes to sit on the table beside him. Her new Na’vi attire is still as neat as ever but there is a drowsiness in her gaze similar to his own.
“You seem to forget that I was invited by the Zeswa too.” Although it doses So’lek with a tinge of guilt there is no ill will in her comment. However, it does leave his mind swirling to different concerns. If she was in fact at the party last night, how much of his interactions had she witnessed? More importantly, how much of it would she share?
“My mind is….clouded this morning,” comes his lame response. Graciously Ri’nela simply gives a hum of understanding before turning towards the direction he was caught looking earlier.
Priya and Anqa have moved on from swallowing each other’s tongues, but they remain lounged in a hanging chair together, Priya perched atop her lover’s lap as she yaps on and on about who knows what. Although Anqa is less animated in her responses, she listens intently. There is nothing but lovesick admiration in her eyes as she endures the endless jabbering, tucking her girlfriend’s purple hair behind her ear or drawing circles on her side occasionally.
“It must be nice.” Ri’nela sighs softly, a wistful air to her tone. When So’lek turns to raise a hairless brow at her she motions to where Anqa and Priya. “Having something like that.”
“You envy the tawtute?” So’lek can’t mask how ridiculous he finds the notion. Ri’nela has always struck him as a reasonable Na’vi. Even one that shows great potential as a leader. What do tawtute have for her to be jealous of?
“Well aren’t you?”
So’lek’s nose scrunches. “No.”
Despite the brunt response, Ri’nela is hardly put out. Her lips perk up slightly and she gives him a gentle look that one does when teaching a small child. “Are you saying you don’t want what they have? A partner? A mate?”
Calling Priya and Anqa mates feels wrong, like a bad taste on his tongue, but he can’t deny they must be something close. After all, they are committed to one another in similar fashion as one does their mate. They always have someone to run to.
“I have not thought about it.” If Ri’nela senses his lie, she doesn’t let it show.
“Hm well I have. It feels kind of impossible though considering our situation.” She sighs and it’s the first thing she has said in this conversation that immediately makes sense to him. Just like him, she is an outcast of sorts. There are only a few that survived in the Sarentu clan and all of them had been kept in with RDA like a lab experiment throughout their adolescence.
“Difficult indeed.”
Ri’nela lets out a sad laugh, something painful shifting in her features. It sets So’lek on edge, already mentally preparing to navigate a situation where he is expected to comfort another. “Sometimes I think that even being a tawtute would be easier than this. They may live on an alien planet, but even those who have left the RDA have found each other and created this place together. Those two have found love here. This is their clan for all intents and purposes.”
So’lek has never thought of it that way. Do Sky People form clans the way Na’vi do? If so this clan is by far the most peculiar one he has ever seen. Then again, they do work as a team. Everyone comes together to maintain their lodging and when dangers comes knocking there are always a group of former RDA military tawtute ready to act like warriors.
“We have nobody.” Ri’nela continues. “No clan, no place to call our own. Even our memories of the clan we once belonged to are hazy. This place is the closest thing we have to a refuge and even here no one can truly teach you what it means to follow your path in life.”
So’lek shrinks, fingers idly twiddling together. Of course things have not been easy for the Sarentu that escaped the TAP program but he didn’t know this is how she views the circumstances.
“And mating…” Ri’nela sighs again, “Mating becomes all the more complicated when you have no clan to pull from.”
“I do not believe now is a good time to mate in general. What is the point when the RDA can easily take away such a bond?”
“Do you really believe that?”
No, not really. If he had been asked a month ago, perhaps. Back then it had only seemed logical to avoid close ties when he is surrounded by death daily. It would be just another thing for the RDA to take from him.
But now…now the words are sour on his tongue.
Ri’nela has this quality about her that is hard to place a finger on. A certain calm vulnerability that somehow makes it difficult to lie to her. So instead of trying, So’lek simply shrugs.
“I think that if I was lucky enough to find something even close to what they have, there is nothing that could keep me from it.” Ri’nela’s gazes with a sad fondness at Priya and Anqa. There is a longing glimmer to true there that it has his own stare pulled back to the couple. “Someone to weather this storm with. A person that knows you in a way unmatched by any other, and still they choose you. A bond that reminds you why life is so precious, makes it more than just surviving.”
Is that what Anqa and Priya have? Something worth living for? On the surface it has always seemed like some gooey infatuation, a naive romance that he is forced to witness. But perhaps it is more than that. So’lek doesn’t often think about what life would be like as a tawtute, in fact he never does, but can imagine it not being the most comfortable of circumstances. They are not even able to breathe the Pandoran air around them without suffocating. Going back to their home planet is no good option either as it is already dead.
So then maybe Ri’nela has a point. Priya and Anqa find happiness in their day to day affairs, affairs that include risking their lives to fight against their corrupt former employers, despite the harrowing circumstances. They always have a reason to smile, something to laugh at. And it’s just hitting him now that this reason is each other.
“I’m sure you will find something like that, Ri’nela.” The hypocrisy burns So’lek’s throat. How can he claim to believe that when those rules don’t apply to himself? The survivors from the Sarentu clan are the people closest to having the same experience as his own. To have faith in Ri’nela finding a mate not himself goes against all logic.
“Only time will tell.” Although still melancholy, Ri’nela sends him a sympathetic smile. She rises from the table and goes to make her exit. So nonchalant in her retreat as if she has not induced a spiral of thought for him to wind into.
She pauses just before reaching the corner and turns to him again. “I know it is not any of my business, but you should know how lucky you are.”
So’lek’s heart drops to his stomach.
“Don’t let her get away.”
So’lek would prefer to blame Ri’nela for his inability to sleep that night. After all, she is the one that dropped a bomb on him with her speech about mating. Not to mention the only person in headquarters that has knowledge of his love life and the ability to make his feelings for you public domain.
However, that would be dishonest. And at the end of the day he knows that tonight was always going to end this way. He has been trying to get his mind off of you for weeks, in fact every time he has returned from the Zeswa camp, and it has always been unsuccessful. And now the fact that two of you had almost shared a kiss only amplifies that obsession more.
It was already hard enough to control his desires when he could believe that it was a one-sided longing. But now that he knows there is some interest on your side as well, fighting the demons in his head is borderline impossible. You knew he was going to kiss you. You knew and you not only were ready to let him but showed disappointment when he failed to do so.
How is he ever supposed to resist now that he knows the object of his desires is at his fingertips? That there is a chance he can have you.
Perhaps not as a mate. It would be naive of him to assume his ever growing feelings for you are reciprocated in the same manner. But even knowing you desire him in a physical manner is enough to have him rolling over in the hammock and biting into the material.
This is absolute madness.
What is his plan? Avoiding the Zeswa clan forever can surely not be it. He can try to reduce the amount of time spent there but they are still allies so there will always be occasional visits required. Even then, does he really trust that distance will be enough to get rid of these feelings?
No, this is not a phase that will pass.
And even if So’lek were to find a way of dealing with feelings without intervening in your courtings, what would that change? It would mean that another male comes along and makes you their mate eventually. And every day from then on he would be forced to face the fact that he is in love with a mated woman. He would have to witness that union every time he visits with indifference while everything within him would ache to rip this male’s throat out with his teeth.
So’leks stuff a growl down his throat. Eywa above, what is wrong with him? Never before has he felt so connected to the primal beast inside of him. For years he has been a master of not only his emotions but impulses as well. But you’ve awakened something else within him. Something that has laid dormant for years and now refuses to go back to sleep.
When he’s not echoing your perfect laugh in his head, he’s imagining the way you would groan his name. When he’s not recalling the silly story you told him earlier that day with a smile, he is crafting fantasies of his tongue lapping the sweet nectar between your legs. And when he is not pushing back every pulse of his heart that sings for you, he is grinding his teeth at the thought of another ever loving you the way he does, yearning for you the way does.
Everything circles back to you.
You have torn him apart from the inside out and the worst part is, he doubts you have any true inkling of this. At most, you understand there is a flirting atmosphere between you two.
So where does that leave him? It seems there is only one option that has the potential to lead him away from years of insanity. However, that means facing exactly what he has avoided for weeks.
Telling you the truth.
So’lek is a man. He can and will face rejection if necessary, although the idea of that somehow has his insides curling with dread. If it were only a matter of gaining the courage he would have unrooted his tail from between his legs and told you weeks ago. But that is not the main issue.
The real danger is having those feelings reciprocated, because that would then mean being open to mating. That would mean letting all of his hard work to protect you go down the drain and instead take you selfishly for himself. And he hasn’t done that. He hasn’t done that because…well because he is not worthy of you.
Then again, does that imply that your current suitors are the opposite? What do they possess that he does not?
They grew up in a clan, in your clan nonetheless. And So’lek didn’t. He has no clan.
His conversation with Ri’nela bubbles up again. Does he truly believe that not having a clan means being subjected to a life without a mate? He would not wish that to be true for Ri’nela’s sake. Or Teylan’s. Or really any of the other Sarentu that are left. If she were to come to him in a similar situation, having found interest in someone within the Zeswa clan he would approve of her going after that connection. So why does he not approve of that for himself?
He does not have a deep understanding of his culture or know exactly what it means to have People of your own. And somehow that makes him unworthy of you. Because one day, a long time ago, the Sky People rained hellfire on his home and took away his clan.
Does that one instance mark him as damaged goods for the rest of his life?
If so, that seems to be a lot of power to put in the Sky People’s hands. It means that the Sky People not only took everything he had with such ease, but also everything he could ever gain for the rest of his life. And So’lek…So’lek is so damn tired of having things stolen from him.
It is not fair for the RDA to steal you away from him too. If he is unworthy of you it is simply because of his shortcomings in character and light when compared to your vibrance. Not because of circumstances he did not choose. You are too good for him, So’lek can recognize that, however that does not mean he is not allowed to chase you like the others.
Ri’nela prays to find someone to spend her life with, a mate she can call her own, and So’lek can no longer deny that he wants the same too. He does not want to simply survive anymore, he wants to thrive. But unlike Ri’nela, he is lucky enough to already understand who he wants that with.
So he’s not willing to let you slip away.
Not before he has given it everything he has first.
It is only when So’lek hears one of the tawtute’s alarm go off that it becomes clear has had not slept a wink all night. And yet, So’lek has never been filled with so much energy. He dresses and grooms himself within record time, ignoring the puzzled looks that are sent his way. It seems that nothing matters besides getting to the Zeswa camp as fast as possible.
Wrestling his emotions all night has left him with a buzzing energy that threatens to make him explode. He needs to tell you and he needs to tell you now. Every second that this remains unresolved is another that has So’lek on edge.
And so the trip to the upper plains has never felt longer. Although he makes the trek with incredible speed, his feet don’t take a second to adjust their stomping pace once he enters the camp. In fact, they only drum faster against the long grass as he hunts you down among the bustle. No thought is put into the expression he exhibits or body language, so So’lek doesn’t pay attention to the Na’vi that drive out of his way in fear.
There is nothing but cold steel determination laced with an anxiousness that overtakes him.
Then there you are. Long hair blowing in the wind and basket in hand as you carefully weave the next row. So’lek’s lungs finally fill with air. Has it truly only been a day since he has seen you? How was he foolish enough to believe he could ever continue being around you without trying his hand at making you his? Heavy steps cross the space, almost on the brink of jogging to where you stand next to a tent.
When your tails perk and eyes finally clock the impending advance of his tall frame, there is a surprised glimmer in your expression. Even a shot of excitement in those beautiful golden eyes that has all of So’lek’s restraint depleting.
“So’lek, what are you doing here?”
He doesn’t answer with words. Instead he springs the last two steps into your space and immediately hunches to plant his lips against yours. His long fingers curl at the nape of your neck while his thumb caresses your cheek. Although your response is lagged from shock, it doesn’t take long for your lips to meld with his in perfect unison.
So’lek gives everything to that kiss. Every night that he has laid awake thinking about you. Every sputter that his heart has wrenched from your laughter as he has fallen off a pa’li over and over. Every ounce of desire that rushes through him like a river bashing against a dam ready to break.
Deepening the kiss, he refrains, however, from letting it get too vulgar. If he lets that primal creature inside of him lose now, he’ll take you right here and now before talking anything through. It’s difficult to remember this, however. Technically his plan was to speak to you then take his shot at a kiss but So’lek can find room for regret when you taste like everything sweet he has been missing for years. You are just as soft as he imagined. Even more addicting than he could have envisioned.
When So’lek breaks away your lips are already a pretty shade of pink, parted to release heavy breaths. Those golden eyes are now only a sliver of color as your pupils have dilated and eyes widened in disbelief.
“I should have done that yesterday.” That truth gives little explanation, but it’s the only words he manages to get out without sticking his tongue down your throat.
Your chest heaves and features morph into a delighted shock. Seeing you like this is more satisfying than he could put into words. You’ve always been the outspoken one between the two of you, but now it is him that renders you speechless.
So’lek almost goes in for another kiss before the weight of several gazes finally register. Turning over his shoulder he finds that you are not alone in weaving your basket. In fact there is a group of Na’vi sitting on the ground holding their own materials, watching with wide eyes and dropped jaws. It hits him then. You aren’t just sitting here working on your own basket. You are in the middle of teaching a class.
A class he has so dramatically disrupted.
“I apologize for the interruption.” And he should be, he really should be but So’lek doesn’t even believe his own words at this point. He stalks off simply out of respect for the class and the chance to remember how to behave in public.
It won’t matter though, not when he can feel the prickle of your wide-eyed gaze along his back.
So’lek lingers just outside of camp in an alcove of blood leaf trees. It’s just enough space for him to catch his breath, try to clear his head as he waits for your class to finish. Palms spread along the bark in front of him. So’lek drops his head between his outstretched arms and focuses on inhaling and exhaling. The exercise is borderline pointless when each inhale only sparks attention to your taste lingering on his tongue.
Never before would he consider himself this impulsive or irrational but even now that he has made a spectacle in front of everybody, So’lek fights the urge to turn around and do it all over again. He barely resists the aching need to stomp back into camp, throw you over his shoulder and carry you into the woods where he can finally have his way with you.
So’lek spins on his heel, leaning against the tree with his head thrown backwards now. This is insanity.
His nostrils flare the second there is a trace of your essence in the wind. So’lek almost wishes he wouldn’t have looked because now he is sucked in by the way your breasts bounce as you jog from the camp towards him.
Great Mother above, how is going to have a conversation with you while in this state?
Luckily, or perhaps not so lucky, you are in no mood for conversation either. So’lek doesn’t get out a simple hello before you are bounding into his chest and pulling him down for another kiss. This time there are no boundaries keeping the kiss from turning absolutely filthy. That devious tongue swirls around his own until So’lek is capturing your bottom lip between his teeth in retribution.
Fuck, you are so much trouble.
“Wait…mh...wait.” You don’t afford him the space for speaking so So’lek eventually catches your upper arms in a firm grip and establishes some distance. “Wait for one moment.”
“No, I’m sick of waiting.” Voice teetering on a whine, you brush off the hold and capture his lips back to yours. So’lek feels like he is being torn in two. It’s important to talk things through, make sure that you understand just how deep his feelings are, but with the way his tewng struggles to keep his hard cock trapped, it is only a matter of time before instincts overcome logic.
So you leave him with no choice.
With one graceful swoop he has you manhandled back against the tree, arms planted on either side of your head to keep you bracketed there. “You need to listen.” So’lek seethes and it comes out far angrier than he intended.
In spite of that, your eyes take on a new sparkle. Those beautifully swollen lips part and soft features morph into a dazed shock just as they had done after that first kiss. Except this time, the aroma of arousal thickens.
Fuck, you’re into this. You like the way he has wrestled you into place. You like how he towers over you now and demands to be heard. Perhaps it is the only reason your protests have immediately stopped. He needs to get this off of his chest before the ability to make full sentences leave him entirely.
So So’lek blurts it all out in a heated rush.
“I did not come here to fool around once. That is not what this is. I am here because it is physically impossible for me to stay away. There is not an hour that goes by where I don’t long to be with you, even in your presence if that is what I can get. I have no clan. I don’t know the customs of your people and I often have a disposition that makes people want to run away rather than draw near. I am not like your other suitors, I do not offer the same things. All of this I know and have tried to respect but it seems no iron will I construct is strong enough to keep me from wanting you all the same.”
You don’t dare to blink and disconnect his gaze from yours.
“And want you I do, paskalin. But not just once, not just in a way that satisfies our bodies alone. I yearn to have every part of you that can be offered.” One step closer and So’lek’s can practically feel the drumming of your rampant heart against his chest. “So if this is not what you want, then you need to tell me now. Because I know that once we cross this threshold, once I get one more taste of you there will be no going back for me. You will have my heart until my dying breath.”
Winds whips against his back. Second feel like years as dainty hands wind up his arms and clasp at the nape of his neck.
“Maybe if you weren’t so stubborn, So’lek, you would already know that I have been yours since the moment we met.”
The next connection of lips is softer, far more patient than the ravaging before. It allows So’lek to fall into your confession properly, to let it settle into his head and heart that this is real. That you are truly sunk into his embrace, candy on his lips, and heart open for him entirely.
So’lek pours every fiber of gratitude into this kiss. He winds his love into the tender brush of his fingers across your cheek. His tail curves around your thigh with the solemn promise to protect you until his heart stops beating. And you breathe in every silent promise he makes with one of your own.
Your long lashes tickle his cheeks and small hands rooted in his hair causes So’lek’s knees to weaken.
This tender moment can only last so long, however. That deep seated fire has not been forgotten and with every second the two of you remain entangled, the hotter it burns. That shift is prevalent in the way you go from running nails over his scalp to tugging on the long locks to pull him closer. So’lek’s own hands go from tender exploration to greedy groping down your hips and backside.
A part of him would question the harshness and vulgarity of his actions were it not for the way you now moan into his mouth. You take every crude touch delivered and beg for more in the same breath.
So’lek only departs from your lips to finally slot his face into the crook of your neck. Nose running along a vein of your throat, he is free to drown in the place where your aroma is most potent. But it’s not enough to breathe you in, not even sufficient to simply witness the way his scent now intertwines with yours. He must taste it, must run his tongue over every inch of perfectly delicious skin like he has dreamed of for weeks.
The flat of his tongue draws over from your collarbone to the edge of your jaw. You don’t hide your sound of delight, nor the obvious push of your pelvis to find his own. Bruising kisses turn into sucking deep marks at the vulnerable skin. So’lek only pauses when you manage to crane your head down and capture one of his ears carefully between sharp teeth. The tip of your tongue follows a smooth path at the shell of his ear. It taunts a deep rumble from his chest.
Pulling back, So’lek hardly gets a chance to witness your pleased smirk before he is caught in another kiss. Unlike the first day in the healer’s tent when you had been hesitant to touch his chest guard, you now use it as your personal leash to bring him closer. Those small hands dig into the tough material and yank without reserve.
Not that it’s needed. So’lek would gladly crawl at your feet if it means getting to devour you once more.
However, it quickly becomes not enough. His mouth salivates at the idea of tasting another sweet part he has been dreaming of. You give no struggle when his hand hitches behind your knee, allowing him to curve that long leg around his waist and press your pelvises together. It takes bending his own knees to account for the height difference but it’s worth all of the hassle when feeling the heat that literally radiates through your tewng.
So’lek suddenly becomes all too aware of how overdressed he is in comparison. That sentiment must be shared because your eyes dance with excitement when he is haphazardly shucking off the chest guards and gear attached. Your own chest piece does little to hide those perfectly shaped breasts, one nipple managing to slip out from under a feather, and even more so does not hide that now red hue over the area. It seems that all your grinding against him, has consequently rutted your chest over his radio and other hard gear.
Perhaps he should feel bad but all So’lek can think about instead is whether or not his teeth and tongue could exhibit a similar reaction along your perfect breasts. Is the other nipple as hard as the one that has slipped out?
It’s as if you can read his mind, or rather notice where his gaze has lowered to have him drooling, because without a single prompting you are undoing the clasp and letting the delicate top fall away.
So’lek would judge any other male for acting the way he does now. So easily reduced to a mouth breathing imbecile just from a natural part of female anatomy. But perhaps he simply didn’t get it until now. Staring at those beautifully pointed nipples and curved breasts the perfect size for his hands, he thinks he may just now understand why a sight like that never gets old. At least, not when it’s yours.
You grasp the hand not holding your leg, confidently guiding his palm to rest over the right breast. So’lek requires no further invitation. He squeezes and savors the squishy weight in his hand, drawing his thumb over that perky nipple that is begging to be sucked. Delight spikes his blood pressure when he witnesses how his calloused fingertips tighten the bud.
“So’lek please! I’m not fragile.”
His name has never sounded so beautiful. Those wicked eyes ensnare him without an ounce of bashfulness. Caught between two temptations So’lek eventually drops your leg in favor of using both hands to explore this new uncovered skin.
The first time he pinches one nipple between his fingertips and tugs it brings on a sound from your throat so sudden and lewd it makes his cock twitch in its confines.
“Harder.”
So’lek’s pupils dilate. What a little pain slut you’ve turned out to be and from the blissed expression you wear now, there is not an ounce of you that is ashamed of it. Nor should you be. Every new discovery is a gift So’lek delights in unwrapping.
“Always so demanding, paskalin.” Voice gravelly and thick with lust, So’lek bends down further until his lips are skating over the swell of your breasts.
“I’m actually quite a patient person.” Even with labored breath your quip doesn’t lose its whip.
“Is that so?” It is by no means playing fair, but So’lek latches his lips around your left nipple before letting you respond. He rolls the raised flesh between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to capture the peak and pull it back.
You have a handful of braids gathered in your grip tightly but they don’t stop the retreat of his head. You let out a guttural groan, rising onto your toes as if to enhance the sharp sting. And still, your determination to get out a response does not falter.
“I’ve waited for you this long, haven’t I? Agh Eywa mm…flirted with you for weeks waiting for you to take the bait.”
So’lek switches to the other side, snapping his teeth around the raised bud before muttering, “You poor thing.”
“Mock me all you want but you’re cruel for making me wait.” A gasp bubbles up your throat when he pinches the disregarded nipple while the other is nipped by his teeth. “A woman has needs, So’lek.”
Those words have his ears perking in interest, even lapping at the abused flesh so you have a better chance at finishing that thought.
“Thinking of you with my hand between my thighs is only good for so long before I start wanting the real thing.”
A string of saliva still connecting your nipple to his lips, So’lek pulls back to look up at you. “Is that what you do, paskalin? Touch yourself while you dream about me?”
Then with zero hesitation, “I was three fingers deep inside myself this morning while I pondered what your cock would feel like down my throat.”
Static fills his head, the only sound bouncing in his skull is your unabashed confession. This morning. You had been touching yourself to the thought of him this morning. Meaning while he was buzzing with adrenaline, thoughts wild and uncontained at the thought of what if, as he made the trek to the Zeswa camp, you were exploring the parts of yourself he had been dreaming of for weeks while conjuring dirty fantasies of him. So’lek had been spiraling and questioning all of his desires with no knowledge that you were already his for the taking.
And that’s what it has been. Weeks and weeks of him dreaming and wishing and overthinking while you waited patiently for him to untuck his tail and do something about it. How long has he gone on torturing himself while you’ve been right here?
Too long.
Way too fucking long.
But now, he is determined to make up for every second of lost time.
“You are trouble.” Voice rough with a rumbling depth, you are unbothered by his change in inflection.
“I’m just being honest.” You shrug, lips tempted into a crooked smirk. “Don’t ask the question if you can’t handle the answer.”
Your confident snip simultaneously delights and taunts him. It tugs at the part of him that no longer wants to be gentle or conscientious. You are coaxing out the beast in him that is nothing but teeth, and from your self satisfied smirk it’s clear you know it too.
So’lek rises back to his full height, dragging his muscular form along your sweet curves until his impressive frame is molded against your own. When you crane your neck to look at him he witnesses your dilated pupils even beneath the shadow that he has cast over you. It’s So’lek’s hand now that roots into your hair, yanking you forward into a demanding kiss.
He gives no room for air, slotting his nose along yours and devouring you with vengeance. So’lek has to hold back a vicious smirk at the moan you release once he begins sucking on your tongue. Dulls nails dig into his waist, clawing to bring him impossibly closer. They seek to draw blood in retaliation when he finally breaks the kiss.
“You are not the only one who has been waiting for a taste, paskalin.”
You grin and lean forward, interpreting that as another filthy kiss coming your way. However, it is not your lips that he speaks of now. Or at least, not those lips. Your tail whips in surprise when large hands begin undoing the string around it. So’lek tugs and digs at those knots without preamble, watching your pretty face as you realize where this is heading.
Once the offensive garment is ripped away he drops to his knees. His nostrils flare, greedily taking in your thick essence but it's not enough. So’lek roughly yanks one of your legs over his shoulder and his ears twitch to catch your pretty gasp. Now teetering on one leg while the other is curved over his broad shoulder, you are perfectly laid out for him.
So’lek barely has enough time to appreciate the view before his instincts demand a taste. Intricate stripes along your inner thighs and navel create an alluring path to the treasure between your legs. So’lek runs the tip of his nose along one stripe of your thigh before stopping less than an inch from your soaked cunt.
Eywa above, his vivid imagination could never compare to the beauty that lies before him now!
Your needy clit is already engorged, a pretty pearl that begs to be played with. He uses his thumbs to part your lips and get an unobstructed view. Hot breath tickles your sensitive core causing your now displayed entrance to flutter. Watching the way your pussy grasps at nothing has So’lek caught between wanting to drown himself in your juices or fill you with his aching cock.
“So’lek, you are such a fucking tease I-”
The end of that complaint is strangled into a whine when his lips close around your clit. A small hand pushes at the back of his head. As if he would need the encouragement. So’lek smothers himself in your warmth. Nose slotted between your lips his tongue runs up the sensitive cut of you, collecting every ounce of sticky arousal it can find. The tip of his tongue then circles around that pulsing bud until your clitoral hood is pushed back and he can attack the nerve dead on.
That action conjures a violent reaction. Hips buck back at him hard enough to have your one supporting leg struggling to remain planted. So’lek takes that as his cue to take pity on you. He slinks the other leg over his shoulder and wraps his arms around your thighs to support the weight. This way he has full control of wrangling your soaked cunt to his lips while you no longer have to focus on standing.
“Oh Eywa! More…more So’lek…I need more.” Although your voice has flitted into desperate gasps, it loses none of its conviction.
Your demands push him further, his tongue now spearing into your pussy with a desire to explore. Fuck, even around his tongue you are tight as a vise. So’lek rises to his feet, keeping you sat on his shoulders as your back glides along the tree trunk. If you have a fear of heights it is not voiced as you are pinned against the trunk and ravaged.
“Right there! Right there! Ah yes! Right-”
That constantly babbling has never been more beautiful than now. His tongue curves to hit that oh so special spot that has your thighs shaking around his head. So’lek’s nails dig into your ass to spread you wider as your own viciously claws into his scalp.
With the perfect combination of his tongue fucking up into you and his nose rutting along your clit, your first orgasm comes in no time. So’lek drinks up every last drop selfishly. He considers it a reward after all of this time he’s behaved, been patient and tried to get you out of his head. Now that you’ve broken his resolve, it’s only fair that you give him everything that you have. That he collects what belongs to him.
When So’lek finally peels away, he finds you catching your breath while one hand grips a tree branch above. He’s caught staring but even with a flushed hue over your cheeks, you simply let out a breathy laugh in a daze. Your legs are shaking as he lowers you back onto your feet but that isn’t enough to deter you.
Half of his face coated in your essence, So’lek graciously obeys the hands that yank him down for another kiss. It seems right that you get to taste how delicious you are too. His big hands wrap around either side of your neck, angling your face upwards and deeper into the kiss.
Meanwhile, it seems that even in the afterglow of a climax, you can’t refrain from being a minx. Confident hands map the territory of his slim hips and v line before one sneaks back to grab his ass. His dark chuckle is passed between his lips to yours as you hold back a devious smirk.
“Your turn.” You demand, tugging at the waistband of his loincloth with the patience of a child waiting to unwrap a present. The motion only increases the ache in his groin, somewhat surprised that the piece of fabric has managed to contain his boner.
So’lek practically jumps out of his skin when you slip past the waistband. His left hand slams against the tree trunk as he groans when you wrap around his base, thumb running up a thick vein. The fire in his eyes matches your own. This is a game of tug a war. Weeks of yearning and dreaming have left both of you utterly insatiable. Matched in intensity, you too are determined to take everything your desired mate has to offer.
And So’lek is going to deliver it to you on a silver platter.
That is, after he gets his own chunk of flesh.
Hastily undoing the string of his tewng, So’lek slots his face into your neck as you start a slow but firm pace stroking him. It is borderline torture, the way you already know how to apply the perfect amount of pressure at the right places while still having your fun sweeping a thumb over his head to collect the precum there. A sweat breaks out along his forehead. He finds himself wishing for a hair tie to wrangle his now messy braids out of the way as he holds back from exploding all over your stomach.
“You’re so pretty.” You marvel, aroused scent intermingling with his own as you stare down with blown out pupils. Fuck, you are going to kill him if you keep looking at him like that. It’s no wonder his feral instincts have taken over. When yours are already unleashed it’s impossible to hold back. He was a fool for ever thinking he could escape your taunting.
“No,” So’lek nearly barks when you try to sink down onto your knees. He quickly wraps a firm hand around your bicep to urge you back up. Those plump lips part, no doubt preparing to protest, perhaps say something about how unfair he’s been for once again making you wait. So’lek cuts in before you get the chance. “I need to be inside you. Now.”
It’s impossible to keep back the rugged timber that takes over his words. Even more so impossible to hide the desperation that fills him to the brim. As much as he is overtaken by the thought of your talented mouth wrapped around him, he knows there is no way he will be able to hold himself back from coming then. And when he reaches that high for the first time with you, So’lek wants nothing more than to be buried deep inside of you, feeling the way you unravel around him.
But his body is already far too close to the edge. A heat coils in his abdomen and every touch you deposit has his tip leaking more sticky precum. This needs to happen now before he loses it prematurely.
Luckily, your attitude appears to be put into check by his words. All signs of disappointment quickly shift into a raw fervor, hands grabbing for his shoulders. So’lek takes the cue in stride, hoisting your knee up to his hip and positioning himself at your entrance.
And then he hesitates.
So’lek is not small by any means and he has not properly prepared you for him.
“Oh Eywa,” You groan, “I stretched myself out this morning, So’lek just…please!”
That whine and pinched expression is borderline distressed and therefore all the encouragement he requires to slink forward. You’re his mate and as you’ve said, a woman has needs. From here on out he is going to be the sole provider for every single one of yours.
It takes a hand to your hip in order to keep control of his pace sinking inside. So’lek’s hairless brows furrow and muzzle wrinkles at the difficulty required to keep himself from plunging inside with one thrust. Sweet sounds wracking your throat, you provide no help as your hips keep trying to slant forward. At this point there is going to be an imprint of his fingers from where they press into your hip.
So’lek lets out a harsh breath.
Stars above, that thought has the potential to send him down a very dark hole. Just thinking about all the ways and places he can mark you has his ball drawing up against his body.
When he is finally seated all the way inside, pelvis flush against your own, both of you take a moment to breathe. Panted air tickles his chest from where you have your forehead slants against his collarbone. His own nose buries into that luscious hair that he has admired flying in the wind for weeks.
So’lek’s tail wraps around your planted leg and it’s then that he feels the way you are on the verge of collapsing. Hooking an arm underneath that knee he swipes it to his waist. The new angle makes both of you groan but you are quick to lock both ankles at the base of his spine and cling for dear life.
This moment is sacred.
The first of many times that he can feel what it means to be intimately intertwined with you in a way only inferior to making tsaheylu. So much distance he has kept between the two of you only to now gorge himself in a closeness beyond anything he has ever experienced. And someday, someday very soon, it will be even more. Once he has courted you properly, showered you with the love and attention has wanted to give you from the very beginning, the two of you will make the bond.
A permanent entanglement that he will cherish until the end of his days.
“So’lek,” You whisper. Nothing but his name against his chest until your right hand is reaching up to brush his cheek. He nuzzles into your palm without thought before ducking down until your cheek is sliding against his own. It’s in this primal act of scenting that his hips finally begin to move.
Long languid thrusts that have you shuddering against him while his teeth bite into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. In this state you are an open book. Every spike of your pleasure is indicated by the way you squeeze his cock, or dig your nails into his shoulder blades, or even nips at his pulse point. There is nothing demure about your exploration.
As his pace picks up, now figuring out where that sweet spot is to torment, your soft hands are mapping every inch of him they can reach. His neck, his shoulders, every rigid line of his abdomen. When one hand reaches to squeeze his muscular bicep his tail coils.
You are matched in desire perfectly, a fact that threatens to coax him into spilling inside of you instantly. So’lek has to grit his teeth to hold back even as your lips find his own again. This kiss is a mess of saliva and haphazard coordination as the increased speed of his thrusts have you jackhammering up the tree trunk. It doesn’t matter.
All So’lek can focus is your sweet sounds and how eagerly your body welcomes him in.
“Paskalin,” He groans, barely managing to tear away from your lips. “You are everything.”
He witnesses the way those words sink in, how long it takes for them to settle before you are able to smile back at him in your disheveled state. This smile is unique from the many others he has seen you wear. It is one not meant for the public eye, a rare form that one can only be seen in an intimate setting like this. A smile that now only shines for him.
A burst of adrenaline courses through his veins. Tired muscles renew tenfold, cock driving up into you now with uncontained zeal. This burst of energy has him entirely distracted so when a foreign touch suddenly scrapes his kuru, So’lek just about buckles and takes you both to the ground.
With a hiss he rights himself and pushes you harder against the tree. Nails glide over his protective braid with a featherlight pressure before sweeping over his shoulder and getting dangerously close to the exposed tendrils.
So’lek’s jaw clamps hard enough to make his teeth ache.
“Don’t do that, tanhi [star]. You’re going to make me come.”
“My thoughts exactly.” That devious hitch in your voice cracks when he sends a harsh thrust in reprimanding.
“I mean it.” He grits.
“So do I.” Baby hairs plastered to your damp forehead, you stare him down with a renewed fervor. “I want all of you, So’lek. Everything.”
The dancing tendrils of his kuru are dragged along your shoulder teasingly. His vision zeroes in on the sight, muscles of his abdomen tightening. Your forehead tips against his own, lashes almost kissing his cheek.
“Please don’t make me beg,” you whisper.
It’s intentional, the way your pussy clamps around him in a vice like grip as those words leave your lips. So’lek can no longer remember why he was trying to draw this out as he rickets his hips upwards and gets lost in the feeling of his kuru tendrils wrapping around one of your fingers.
Whatever composure you had temporarily regained becomes frazzled once more as the head of his cock knocks at your sweet spot over and over again with overwhelming accuracy. Your cries muddle together just as your orgasm comes to line up with his.
So’lek has felt no greater relief than releasing himself deep inside of tight heat. Stars dot his vision while you milk him for all that he is worth, panting against his neck. His kuru is dropped and So’lek’s knees wobble, for the first time finding difficulty in holding both of your weight.
He becomes a statue following that high. His brain rings with the same dead sound the computers at headquarters make. You are no better off, clinging to him for dear life as your breasts push against him with every rushed exhale. The first movement is your arms cinching tighter around his neck. A strangely innocent and endearing hug considering the lewd entanglement the two of you maintain.
Gently, So’lek slips out and guides you back onto your feet. He has to scramble when your knees immediately buckle. Swiping his arms beneath your own, he coaxes you to lean your weight on him.
“Are you alright?” His worried tone is in direct contrast to the breathy laugh you give.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You giggle, clinging to his shoulders. “They’ll work again…eventually.”
Your eyes crinkle in the same way they do when watching him fall off of a pa’li. So’lek’s lips curve into their own grin. His lips are still stretched wide when he plants tender kisses to your hairline.
“You smell good,” You hum.
So’lek chuckles fondly before noticing the combined spend that trails down your inner thighs. He has nothing but his gear with him out here in the fields. The only fabric he carries is a small bundle of bandages but he used up the last of it a few days ago. His lips turn down. He will need to be more prepared than this now that he has a mate to look after.
“Paskalin, let me find something to clean you up with.”
“No no shhh,” You reach up and place a finger against his lips. “Stop thinking for one second and hold me.”
So’lek’s heart twists at your little antics, silently obeying your request, shifting both of you to lay on the long grass. Sweaty limbs tangle together, your smaller form messily sprawled across him until your hair is twisted over his abdomen. So’lek slings and arm over your back to cradle you closer.
This is always the part he has missed. Various partners over the years and yet not one of them holding the tender affection that radiates between the two of you now. The chance to just hold and bask in the other’s presence. Little touches that speak volumes louder than he ever could. So’lek is not good with words. He never says the right thing or in the right way.
But he can do this. He can drench the sweet brush of his fingertips over your skin with the weight of every confession he has ever been tempted to give you. He can radiate the deep love that blossoms in his chest with every soft kiss to your hairline and swipe of his thumb over your cheek. And he can feel the same devotion reciprocated every time you snuggle further into his chest or trace lines over his abdomen.
Before long your tail whips out to jest with his curious fingers. He swipes over the thin appendage, watching the way it flickers and circles around his wrist before letting go. The tuft of hair at the end tickles his forearm as it playfully taunts and bats away from his touch. This little game is more amusing than he cares to admit.
A muffled giggle against his chest tells him that his fixation is not concealed. However, for the first time in weeks he’s allowed to not care. There is no lingering regret at showing his cards to you or betraying his emotions to be analyzed. With you he gets to let that mask fall away, allowing you to see a part of him so vulnerable that So’lek thought it had died off years ago.
“I will be ready again in about ten minutes.” You state, smiling while tracing the veins of his left arm. The insinuation and expectation is clear and it shakes a surprised laugh from his lungs.
“And if I am not, paskalin?” So’leks goads with a smirk.
You shift onto your stomach, chin resting atop his chest so that you can look at him directly now. Your tail lashes behind you as you smirk up at him. “Then you better find a way to be.”
So’lek lets out a low chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Your smile, however, falters when you notice something. Legs still shaky and weak, you try to climb up his chest to get a better look. He’s unsure what you are getting at but So’lek doesn’t hesitate in cinching a hand behind your knee and using that grip to slide you upwards.
Hairless brows furrowed and bottom lip on the verge of jutting into a pout, one dainty finger runs over the skin beneath his eyes. It is only then he realizes that he must have dark circles beneath his eyes from not sleeping last night.
“You did not sleep.”
It truly is of little importance but watching how genuinely concerned you are by it may just be the most endearing thing he has ever witnessed. It reminds him of the day you met. The first time was subjected to your insistent care as he writhed and tried to assure you he was fine. If only back then he knew what he knows now. You always take care of him, of anyone and everyone in your vicinity.
No matter what front he has put up. Regardless of every effort he has made to convince you and himself that he does not need this, it has never been a match for you. You who not only sees through his walls but knocks them down with that infectious grin. The Great Mother has blessed him with the only woman stubborn enough to break him the way he truly needed.
“I was up thinking.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Of course you were. What am I going to do with you?” You give him a reprimanding glare but fondness seeps into your beautiful features before you are scooting upwards again.
So’lek expects a kiss, lashes already flutter over his cheeks in anticipation but then those lips are not touching his. Instead a delicate kiss is placed over each eyelid, as if to kiss the sleep deprivation away.
When So’lek opens his eyes you are already shuffling to tuck your face against his neck nonchalantly as if you have not made his heart overflow with one simple move.
This is what Ri’nela had been talking about. Not just surviving but thriving. Have a place to call home, or perhaps in his case someone. For years his sole drive in life has been to repay the RDA for the tragedies they have rained on Pandora, on his clan. That has been his purpose. There has always been something to fight for.
But for the first time in years he now has someone to fight for as well.
Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts! I spent way too much time obsessing over this so getting some feedback/interaction would mean the world to me<3
"Taglist" AKA peeps I thought might like this: @pandoraslxna @tallulah477 @eywaite
hii i recently just found your blog and oh my god it is HEAVEN on earth🥹🥹(or on the internet lol) i especially LOVEE your sukuna works thank the lord for softkuna🙏🙏and i LOVE your theme???? its so cute and well-done?? its all so thoughtful the layout and the masterlist and all ughgg
anyways i reallyy hope to see more of your works in the future, please dont worry whatsoever about the breaks n all!! uni gets busy n stressful we get it so dont be pressured to post, i hope you’re doing well👅👅
omgomgomg thank you so so much!! 🥹 took me sooo long to find the theme i wanted to go for (might update it in the future, but still the same bakery theme)
i’m doing well!! i genuinely appreciate asks like these <33 and i appreciate every single one of u for reading my works!!
im still working on stuff, currently focusing on the brother’s best friend!sukuna so i dont get too overwhelmed, after this one ill (hopefully) go back to my two main series (tatt artist sukuna & drummer bakugou)
i have so many ideas its not funny . cw: blood mention, naoya, death (naoya lol), gun usage, knife usage. not too graphic
jjk au where toji doesn't leave tsumiki and megumi and he meets you and proposes to you but he leaves one day, only leaving behind a note.
hey doll, got some things i need to take care of. can’t be at peace if i don’t do something about it.
i’m sorry ma, i promise i’ll be back.
you knew what he meant—what he says he needs to do. so you're left taking care of megumi and tsumiki—no matter how much it hurt, you need to be there for the kids.
years pass by, and there's no news of him. you don't know if he's dead or alive, the note he left behind was the only thing that's still making you hope he'll come back.
and you do see him again—only, there's a knife pressed against your neck by a man with blonde hair and dark tips. toji's horrified, his hand holding the gun shakes and his breathing goes ragged.
naoya laughs maniacally, pressing his knife against your throat with more pressure that blood starts dripping.
suddenly, in what was probably milliseconds, a man with pink hair and tattoos covering his body steals you away from naoya, along with his beating heart. before naoya could even register what just happened, toji shot him in the head.
sukuna paid it no mind, no, all his attention was on you.
"... it's you," he mutters softly.
"get your hands off of my wife," toji snarled.
"a thank you would suffice. and besides...," sukuna turns his attention to toji with an unamused expression on his face.
"... i don't see a ring on her finger."
a/n : LIKEEE GETS BAAA anyway i'm gonna have to think this thru bc a lot of stuff is gonna change (sukuna's begrudgingly a sorcerer and is yuji's guardian/uncle, geto's a teacher, unsure if the culling games will still happen... we'll see)
jjk au where sukuna and suguru are sorcerers and toji is kind of a sorcerer too but mainly a teacher for physical training and they make him glasses or contacts like maki’s so he can go on missions too whenever he’s needed.
but then on a certain mission some stupid curse turns satoru and suguru as cats, kento and toji as dogs, and sukuna as a tiny ass hamster.
and you’re taking care of them 😌 because you owe shoko a favor lmaooooo (you don’t know shit ab jujutsu society btw)
satoru’s the first one to get comfortable, and it only took him like, probably 30 seconds max. suguru’s the second one to deem your apartment unit his new home after a day or two of observing you. kento’s the third one, a quiet dog that never made a mess anywhere and was always trying to just… stay out of trouble?
toji and sukuna were the ones that had the longest adjustment period, especially sukuna. that little hamster has so much rage in his body it’s kinda adorable (you said that out loud and he bit you… ouch)
reminder!! you don’t know shit about curses and sorcery. so imagine your surprise when you hear five men talking just outside your bedroom.
five men that have similarites to your pets. with fluffy ears and tails to boot. oh wow.
is this considered hybrid au? idk but there’s gna be some smut sooooo 🤫
in the dimly lit homes of families preparing to end the day, mothers and fathers and older siblings prepare themselves for the little ones and their love of bedtime stories.
your daughter, hiyori, absolutely adores your stories. she would always ask for one every night, and of course, you’d indulge her whenever you can. this time, your pink-haired princess wanted something a bit different.
so, you tell her about an old myth of a princess and a cursed mirror. a princess who was betrothed to a grand duke for obvious political power.
the princess was distraught, for she always thought she’d marry for love.
she disguised herself as a peasant in her kingdom, to see if anyone would know of a way out of her… predicament. an old lady told her of a mirror, a cursed mirror. the mirror grants one wish, and it could be anything a person could ever want.
your daughter interrupts you with a pout.
“so the princess finds the mirror and wishes for true love and—and has a happy ending! mama, i said i wanted something different!”
hiyori huffs and crosses her arms, pouting even harder if that was even possible. you giggle, patting her head to reassure her.
“the princess does find the mirror—in the big, scary cave of a dragon,” you hum.
“knight in shining armor saves her?”
you shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your smile. you tell her the dragon finds the princess snooping around, and the princess (with the shakiest of voices) asks for the mirror. the dragon laughed loudly, almost akin to a roar.
the princess stood her ground and asks for the cursed mirror again, telling the scaled creature that she simply wishes for a way out of her engagement. the dragon’s intrigued by the princess’s boldness. alas, he told her the mirror did not exist.
the princess feels helpless, but the dragon had a deal for her.
hiyori’s listening intently, eyes blinking again and again as if it helps her focus on your voice.
“we will trick your family into thinking that you used my ‘cursed mirror’ and fell into a deep sleep. i will take you away in the dead of night.”
“in return,” the dragon grins. “you will stay with me.”
“IS THE DRAGON HER TRUE LOVE!?” hiyori squeals.
“alright, that’s enough. bed time for you, brat.” sukuna walks over and ruffles your daughter’s hair.
“but—“
“tomorrow night, my love,” you whisper as you kiss her good night.
as you close her bedroom door, sukuna pulls you close for a kiss.
“i didn’t know you were telling her my favorite story.” red eyes twinkling even in the dimly lit area.
your small smile turns into a big grin before giving him a soft kiss on the lips.
a/n : is this anything?? idk…………. does it make sense. idk…….. im sick :( but its xmas break ! soooo hopefully ill post more teehee
I love u , ur literally a godsend >_< feel free to take as many breaks as you need love ! Your mental health matters a ton and I hope you don’t feel pressured to release fics ! Literally I’m sure me and all your other followers want you happy n healthy first above all 🩷. Have a goodnight/morning love be strong 🥹🩷.
this is so sweet pls 🥹 tysm for sticking around!! u guys are awesome <33
synopsis .ᐟ you're a tired artist who needs a break from your routine. frustrated with your artworks, you decide to visit the newly-opened cafe near your place. you expected bursts of creativity, you didn't expect to be enamored by one of the customers.
content .ᐟ gn!reader, reader is shorter than gojo but no exact height, gojo satoru is kinda awkward, pretty fluffy, i kinda rambled but then my brain went poof at the end, gojo lowkey a (loveable) loser, geto is alive and is a professor, lots of drawings, reader is kinda obsessive but not in the weirdest way, insta love if u squint.., this is sooo corny but eyee i love it hehe, soulmate-y if you squint, they intrigued each other so much they soulmated ? idk
word count .ᐟ 6.1k
You gently roll the gray kneaded eraser up and down on your sketchbook, the soft rubber picking up the graphite from your earlier sketching. Your rough sketch was of a cat that you spotted out the giant window of the coffee shop from where you sat. It was sleeping right next to a tree, all curled up and without a care. Though the eraser wasn’t leaving behind any shavings like a regular eraser would, you still lightly wipe your hand on your sketchbook, dusting away the imaginary shavings. Old habits die hard.
You take a moment to stare at your work as you absentmindedly tapping the top part of your mechanical pencil on the table. You place your chin on top of your free hand, still staring at your sketchbook. Nothing was wrong with it, in fact, it looks nice—decent.
You sigh, somewhat frustrated, somewhat confused. You take a sip of your coffee and lean back against the top rail of the wooden chair. It’s been a few days of feeling like this—like there was something wrong in your work. Was it your linework? Maybe you needed to fix up your line weight? Or was it how you do your compositions? Maybe it was too plain, nothing exciting? Maybe you need to experiment more? Get a new art style? Alas, you still couldn’t pinpoint the problem.
And so, a form of the dreaded ‘art block’ has unfortunately consumed you. Thankfully, the deadlines you had to meet for your projects and commissions are still far enough that you could be lax, take a small break from work. One day you decide to go to the newly opened cafe that was just a few blocks from your apartment, wanting to get out of your stuffy room and get your poor legs walking (you should probably get an ergonomic standing desk someday).
It just so happens to be the very same cafe you’re in right now. You’ve become a regular, ordering either your usuals, or wanting to try something new depending on your mood. You bring a few art materials with you, that itch of wanting to create something never leaving, even with the stupid art block giving you trouble. So, you decided to just draw whatever’s the first thing your eyes linger on for too long. Maybe you just needed a personal project—no, too work sounding—a personal thing again. Something you do for yourself, and only yourself.
You drew cats, dogs, the people who stay at the quaint cafe to relax, the people who work behind the counter, the chairs, the tables, the trees, just anything.
And it worked, y’know. At first.
Now it stopped working, and you didn’t know why.
‘Maybe I just miss drawing the stuff I love?’
The clinking of the door chimes snap you back to reality. You glance at who walked in, thinking about how you’ll just draw people again, probably. The person that entered was a man dressed in all black with long black hair that was styled in a half-bun. He looked like he was talking to someone behind him. Before you could draw your attention back to your sketchbook and your inner turmoil, someone else entered the cafe.
A man wearing the same all black outfit as the first one (probably a uniform?) with insanely white hair that was slightly messy. He wore round, black sunglasses that covered his eyes, and had a big smug grin on his face all the while it looked like the other man in black chastised him for something you couldn’t hear.
You shake your head, your attention back on the page of your cat sketch. You rummage through the pencil case you brought with you to hold your supplies, fishing out a 0.4 black line pen. You start with the cat, meticulous short and long strokes for clean lineart. It’s been about a few minutes since you started, huffing to yourself as you grab the pen cap, pushing it down for it to click. You lazily place the pen on top of the paper, watching it roll slightly back and forth. You bowed your head, cursing at yourself internally.
There was this nagging feeling for you to take a look around the cafe. What reason? You didn’t know either. Still, you did it anyway. You lift your head, and the moment you do so, something—or rather, someone, catches your attention. The guys you saw earlier were still here, they sat at a table away from yours. The man from before, the one with white hair, took off his sunglasses for a brief moment.
Striking, piercing blue eyes.
It was only for a short moment, and yet your eyes linger for far too long, too enamored with the vibrancy of his eyes. You’ve never seen someone with such gorgeous eyes before, hell, even his lashes were pretty.
For some reason, you picked up your mech pencil. For some reason, you flipped away the cat sketch page for a new blank one. For some reason, you started to sketch his face. Actually, no, there is a reason: practice! Just good ole practice for you to sharpen your skills.
You try to observe him (as not-so creepy as you can), how he smiles, how his brows knit together when his friend tells him something, how he gives him a cocky grin, how his eyes shine, full of life. You sketch and erase and sketch and erase until you get something good, something nice, better than decent. You grab the kneaded eraser, rubbing it back and forth with a little too much force than usual. You rummage through your pencil case again, fishing out the same 0.4 pen along with a 0.2 and 0.6. You start doing line art without a moment of hesitation, not even a second thought of doubt or frustration comes into your mind when you uncapped the 0.4 pen. Short and long strokes of black ink that were messy, weren’t as precise as you would have liked, but you didn’t care. You kept going and going and going, not even bothering to take a moment to lean back and see how it looks.
You didn’t care.
You wanted to be quick, and quick wasn’t your style, no, it was steady and slow precision, that’s how you usually work—how you’re supposed to work.
After what felt like forever, you were finished. It was messy, sketchy, a few mistakes here and there—but you liked it. You really did. You drew him grinning from ear to ear, elbows on the table, head tilted slightly to the side, and white hair tousled. You frown slightly, wishing you brought along with you something to color with—markers, colored pencils, hell, gouache, something to color his eyes.
You looked up, and their table was empty. They left, probably minutes ago or so, you didn’t notice, too engrossed in your work, it was embarrassing actually.
You downed your now-cold coffee, gathering your materials and dropping them in your tote bag. You stand up, the chair making a slight scraping noise, and you take the empty cup, throwing it in the nearby trash before leaving the cafe.
This is insanity.
You know absolutely nothing about this man other than his appearance, and yet you still (unknowingly) appointed him as your muse.
After that day, every time you stopped by the cafe, he was there. Always a seat or two away from you. Sometimes he’d be wearing glasses, sometimes he’d wear a… blindfold (?), and on some rare occasions, he wouldn't hide his eyes.
And every time he’d be there, you’d draw him.
At one point, you were trying to rationalize it with excuses of ‘well, he has a nice facial structure’, ‘oh, he’s just really cool to draw’, ‘his appearance is really unique’, and so on. And sure, you’re right, but the embarrassment lingered. You felt like such a weirdo for drawing him over and over again in your sketchbook, he was a stranger for god’s sake. You practically made a promise to yourself to never let him know, to take this to your grave, lest you get eaten up by embarrassment.
But. Something happened. Something really bad for your dignity.
You didn’t bring your sketchbook one day, waaaay too out of it from stress and fatigue from one of your projects to remember. But you still had that itch. So, you found a piece of unused paper on a random table and took out a random pen that was probably stuck in your tote bag for months. You probably shouldn’t have drawn that day.
Remember that promise? Yeah, no, that promise was broken the moment the door was left open and the piece of paper you were sketching him on flew away from you and went to his feet.
You saw him notice. You saw how his head turned around, lowering slightly. He paused for a moment before bending down to pick it up.
You panicked. You didn’t even try to play it cool, you just grabbed your bag, stood up from your chair—with the loudest screeching you’ve ever heard from a chair making you cringe—and immediately went for the door without looking back. You didn’t look back, you didn’t want to, not when you feel like the universe just fucking betrayed you for fun. You didn’t even bring your coffee—and it was such good coffee too. Oh my god.
It was so bad for you that you decided to self-isolate in your apartment, and you only went out when you needed to buy groceries.
You’ve been stuck in your place for, what, probably a month or so? Surely he’s forgotten all about that by now, right? He probably doesn’t even remember you anymore—or better yet, he didn’t get a nice look of your face, so he doesn’t know you at all. Or maybe, he stopped going to the cafe because he was extremely weirded out by you. Or maybe you were overthinking this.
… also a probability.
“I can’t just hide here forever…” you mutter to yourself, sighing loudly as you plop down on your bed, rolling on to your left side and pushing a plushie between your legs.
And you can’t, because this is starting to become boring for you, and the dramatics wore off. You’ve been busy with work, plowing through your commissions and projects the past month. It was motivation, in a way—motivation to forget everything.
You’re still a little scared, a little nervous, but you want to go out again. You want to visit that cafe again.
You sit up, setting aside the plush toy before standing up from your bed. You rummage through your closet for something comfortable, checking around your room for your wallet and phone and grabbing one of the tote bags that was hanging on the hooks on your bedroom door. You don’t bother grabbing a sketchbook this time, not wanting to draw anything at the cafe today.
The walk to the cafe felt longer this time. You weren’t sure if it was because you haven’t gone out in a while (grocery shopping doesn’t count) or if it was because you were purposely slowing down, trying to bide time. Either way, it didn’t help your nerves. You would switch from walking slowly to walking briskly a few times, stopping every now and then, needing to mentally push yourself forward in your head to keep going. ‘It wasn’t the end of the world’, you’d think to yourself, and you’d be right, but it still doesn’t outweigh the heavy feeling of embarrassment that you still partially feel to this day.
After a while, you finally arrived at the place.
The familiar clinking of the door chimes, the wonderful smell of coffee and pastries, you kind of missed this. This was, after all, your little spot away from the overwhelmingness of your work. Your eyes dart to where he would usually sit, but, surprisingly or unsurprisingly, he wasn’t there. You sigh—out of relief or out of disappointment? You’re unsure.
You walk towards the counter, the barista sporting a shocked expression before giving you a smile. “Welcome back!”
You can’t help but smile back while they ask you for your order and paying the needed amount. While they went around making your drink, you can’t help but take a glance at the table where he would sit once again. You wonder if you just so happened to come here when he wasn’t available, or maybe you truly weirded him out and decided to never come back here ever again…
“Y’know, he’s been waiting for you to come back,” they say, as if sensing your questions that plagued your mind.
You froze for a moment before turning your head, slowly processing what you just heard. You think that maybe you heard it wrong, or the barista was just teasing you because they saw you drawing him an ungodly amount of times. As if right on cue, they turned around, chuckling at your reaction.
“Uh… really?”
“Yes, really.” They hand you your drink with a wink.
Dazed, you grab your beverage and mumble a thank you to them before walking towards your usual table. You sit down, sliding off your tote bag and letting it rest on your lap, both of your hands cupping your drink, your mind wandering off. You take a few sips, thinking it might ease your mind, but it does nothing.
You didn’t want to keep thinking about it—about him, it felt like you were going crazy. You didn’t want to let out your sketchbook from your bag, it felt like if you did, he’d magically appear out of nowhere. You shake your head before fishing out your phone from your bag, deciding to just scroll mindlessly on Instagram while you finish your beverage. Every now and then, you glance at the door to see if a certain someone would show up, but he never did. You didn’t want to acknowledge it, but a small part of you still wanted to see him.
The entire time you were at the cafe, he never came.
It’s been several days, and you’re practically convinced that the barista was just messing with you, because he never came back. You got so annoyed at yourself for believing something so far-fetched that you turned your pillow into a punching bag before dropping face down on said pillow and groaning loudly and dramatically. You were also pretty annoyed at the fact that you cared this much.
And you were preeeeetty annoyed at the fact that you… well, felt a little sad that you probably won’t see him anymore.
So annoyed that you basically went back to what you used to do when he was still around the cafe. You drew him. You never see him anymore, so all your references are just your own drawings. But, honestly? With how much you drew him before, it felt like drawing his features were second nature to you.
Oh, how the tables have turned. Now you’re the one waiting for him (you don’t wanna admit it—that you were waiting for him and that you still kinda believed that he was waiting for you).
It was a Wednesday afternoon and you were just about to sort everything back into your bag before you left the cafe. It was a pretty slow day for the place, with you being the only person besides the barista behind the counter. The chimes sang, but you didn’t even look up to see who it was, if it was him. You stopped checking after the seventh day.
“Oh!” It came from the barista, who was looking at the person who just walked in with slight concern. Out of curiosity, you turned your head to see who it was—
Oh…
There he was, panting heavily with sweat dripping from his forehead. His hair looked messier, his glasses were tilted slightly—he looked unkempt, disorganized, way different from what you used to see. His eyes flickered to your table and up to meet your own. His breathing slowed when he saw you, blinking a few times before pulling his glasses away from his eyes. He slowly walked towards your table, eyes never leaving yours. He stopped right in front of the chair opposite of yours.
“This seat taken?” he asks with a sheepish, lopsided smile. Even with how he looks right now, he was charming. You shake your head ‘no’, because that’s all you could come up with, like you forgot how to speak. You wanted to ask him why he wanted to sit here when there were so many spots free; you wanted to ask him if he really did come here every day and waited for you to walk through the cafe doors; a small part of you wanted to ask him if he came back—if he ran to this cafe… just for you.
He sits down and leans back against the chair, his exhaustion still apparent. After a moment passed by, you finally got the courage to ask him one thing.
“Why sit here?”
He didn’t reply, yet. He grabbed something out of his right pocket, a folded piece of paper. He unfurls it and gently places it on the table, sliding it in front of you and rotates it around. Your eyes followed his movement, and all you could do was stare in shock. It was the drawing you made, the one that flew over to his table, the one that turned you into a shut-in for a few weeks. You blink once, you blink twice, then you slowly look up from the piece of paper to see him sporting a soft smile on his face.
“Because of this,” was his reply after what felt like an eternity of silence.
You can’t help but take another look at the piece of paper on the table. It looked slightly worn, the lines from the folds somehow looked wrinkled themselves with a couple of tears here and there in the corners. Like he repeatedly folded and unfolded it over and over again.
Were you still pretty embarrassed? Of course you were, but since he saw you and decided to sit down on your table… maybe he doesn’t dislike you?
“I always knew you would do drawings of me whenever we’re both at the cafe. I wanted to uh-” he gestures with one hand, waving it between us. “-to talk to you. But you always looked so focused, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
You didn’t say anything, but you weren’t uncomfortable, no, quite the opposite, you were confused and curious—you wanted to know more. He stopped for a moment, staring into your eyes once more, as if searching for something, a sign to see if you didn’t want to be here—that you didn’t want this conversation to continue. But it was nothing like that. You simply sat silently, waiting for him to continue.
“I waited for you to, like, give me one of your drawings? I don’t know, some people do that, right?” he looked so unsure, his eyes flickering away from yours as he rubbed the nape of his neck.
Before this little awkward interaction with him, every time you would see this man in the cafe, he’d always have this strong presence. Strong as in you could feel that he’s the type of man that oozes out confidence. You noticed it the first day you saw him.
But here? Now? He was different. The strong presence you were so accustomed to was gone and was replaced with something softer.
“You… what- you’re not weirded out or- or anything?”
“Weirded out? That you kept drawing me and stuff?”
“Well, I mean, yeah…?”
He looked at you like you grew a second head before snorting. “Why would I be weirded out about that? You’re literally boosting my ego,” he jokes, head tilting slightly to the side.
You let out a huge sigh of relief that you hadn’t realized you were holding, as if you’d been holding in your breath for his answer. He noticed and smiled wide, leaning a bit closer, posture straight and tall.
“Was that why you panicked when this drawing of me flew over to my table?”
You feel your lips tugging at the corners into a small smile, your posture more relaxed. “I, honest to god, thought that I had the worst luck.”
He let out a breathy chuckle, running his fingers through his white hair. “Man, I really should’ve initiated talking to you way before this in the first place.” He hunches over, his hands clasped together as he props them on the table.
“I- uh, I’m not usually like this,” he gestures to himself with another breathy chuckle. “I swear I’m usually more… composed?”
A part of you doesn’t believe that this is happening to you right now, you feel a little tingly, kind of out of it—but it’s still real, because you can smell the coffee, the baked goods, you can hear the slight buzz of the air conditioner, the soft drones of the machines behind the counter—and none of it is fuzzy, none of it is dream-like, but it feels like it is.
You start to wonder why you feel this way with him right now; you wonder why when that piece of paper flew over to him, you panicked and ran away; you wonder why you kept drawing him over and over again, memorizing every feature of his face like it was nothing.
You wonder why your heart beats a little faster every time he’d look your way.
It’s probably just nerves.
“Can I ask you a few things?” his voice snaps you back to reality.
“Only if I can ask you stuff too.”
He gives you a big smile, and there’s this charm to him that you only noticed now—a sort of boyish charm.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
You answer, and he says your name with that same smile on his face and a slight shine in his eyes.
“What about you? What’s yours?”
“Gojo Satoru—but, please, call me Satoru.”
“Why did it look like you ran a marathon when you came here?”
“A student of mine bought coffee here, I told him the place was good. Asked him if he saw anyone that fit your description, he said yeah—dropped everything just to see if it really was you—”
“Why?”
He tuts at you teasingly, “Aht! My turn to ask.”
You roll your eyes playfully, and you swear it looked like his face brightened when you did.
“Oh? You’re comfortable enough to sass me now?”
“You call that sass?”
He shrugs, and his awkward demeanor shifts into something else—not into something strong, no, it was something else, something playful perhaps.
“Why did you think I’d hate you if I found out that you practically made me your muse?”
“Because—” you pause as you shift in your seat, “I don’t know you. I felt embarrassed because it was like I was some creepy stranger that was obsessed with you.”
“My turn, why did you wait for me to come back here?”
“For you, duh.”
“Yeah, I know, but like, why?”
“Why’d you keep drawing me?”
“Oh, come on—”
“No, really, answer that first.”
You raise a brow and lean back against your chair, curious as to why it felt like he was avoiding the question.
“Okay… uh—well, when you first came here with your friend, it was like you put a spell on me or whatever. I’ve never seen anyone as… striking, before you.” you can’t help but look away as you mutter the last part, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you once more.
He props his elbows down on the table, his hands cupping his face, squishing it slightly, and he beams at you. “The first day I came here with my friend, I noticed how you looked at me like you just saw a breathtaking sunset at a beach. You probably didn’t notice that whenever you were busy drawing away, I kept looking at you. Because you intrigue me.
“I kept coming back because, well, in a way I guess you did weird me out—in the best way possible. Because I wanted to get to know more about the artist who drew me—” he points at the drawing again. “—like this. Over and over again.”
And you? All you could say was, “You haven’t even seen my sketchbook.”
“Yeah? Care to show me?”
Hook, line, and sinker. You narrow your eyes at him, and all he does is smile back. Your fingers twitch as you slowly open your tote bag, your sketchbook in full view, like it was mocking you. You grab it gently, fishing it out the bag, and with a moment of hesitation, you place it down on the table, pushing it slightly in front of him—not even bothering to open to specific pages to show him, you just lay it there, closed, waiting for him to flip through it, to see what his reaction would be. Maybe you’ll weird him out in the worst way possible this time around.
But, once again, you were wrong. You watch as he slowly opens it, starting at the very beginning, and even with his head bowed slightly and a shadow casting over his eyes, they still shined and sparkled. At first, there were no drawings of him. It’d be cats or trees or buildings or the cafe furniture, sometimes customers that came in and stayed. Then, he flips to your first drawing of him, then to pages where you had messy sketches of him, drawn like you were running out of time; he flips to pages where you painted him in soft colors, each stroke had a sense of purpose in them. Finally, he flips to one of your favorites.
You drew him sitting down with a 3/4th angle, a ghost of a smile on his face, his half-lidded eyes striking yet soft as he stares at a polaroid in his hands. You used markers and colored pencils here, and the whole palette was warm—and it felt warm.
“You’re amazing,” he breathed it out, almost like a whisper.
You let out a nervous chuckle as you gently rub your left arm up and down over and over again, not exactly sure as to what to reply with. You keep watching him flip through your sketchbook, your heart (for some reason) fluttering with every reaction he shows.
“Would… would you ever show me more?”
“Like, more drawings of you?” you quirk a brow.
“No, no no—I meant like, anything else you draw.”
“Oh, well, I don’t have my other sketchbooks and sketchpads with me today—”
“Tomorrow? Our usual time?”
‘Our usual time’?
“Is this your way of having an excuse to see me more often?” you joke, expecting him to say ‘no’.
“Oh, no—” there it is.
“—it’s an excuse to talk to you more often. Big difference, y’know,” he grins.
And just like that, something clicked in you. You like him. Sure, at first, you like him in the way you used to admire your past crushes in high school and college, watching and sketching from afar, rooting for their success and their happiness. You never reached out, never confessed to any of them—you just kept sketching and sketching until it faded away, to which it usually did. But with him? With Satoru? It didn’t fade away. It stuck with you, because you didn’t think you liked him in that way, you just thought he looked pretty. You thought you just admired him simply because his presence is so notable. You probably did just admire him at first, but then this little exchange happened.
You never talked before this, no, not one single interaction where words were exchanged, but you were still awestruck enough to make him your muse. You’re still unsure when you started liking him in a different light, maybe it was the first day of seeing him; maybe it was later on, blooming like a flower; maybe just now, but you’re sure of something—you want to keep talking to him.
“I’m free tomorrow, sure.”
And he gives you the softest of smiles, making your heart skip a beat.
Gojo Satoru, who is known as the strongest sorcerer in all of jujutsu society—revered by many and feared by some. Gojo Satoru, who is known by those close to him as energetic, flamboyant, his confidence never faltering once—as loud as can be.
And yet, here he is in his classroom, unusually quiet. He just finished discussing to the students about domain expansions, but he did so without his usual antics, he was concise with it. Yuji and Nobara were (barely) whispering to each other, guessing as to what had happened to their teacher. Megumi simply scoffs, but is listening in to their assumptions, eyes flickering to Gojo’s figure every now and then. Gojo, obviously, hears them, but he isn’t listening—no, it goes in one ear and out the other. He’s preoccupied, and it was baffling to see.
Sure, he gets serious every now and then, but this? This was a different kind of serious, it’s like nervousness was poured in the mix. One of his fingers was tapping on the table while one leg was bouncing up and down beneath it. Megumi could tell that his eyes, though obscured with his glasses, kept glancing at the clock every couple of minutes.
Something was going on, but he couldn’t pinpoint as to what it was.
Suddenly, he stood up, “Class dismissed.”
Okay, now the teenagers are really curious.
“We have to follow him,” Yuji whispers excitedly, a huge grin plastered on his face.
Before Megumi could complain, he was already being dragged along by the two as they looked around to see if there was anyone else in the area, trying to act all stealth-like (as if Gojo doesn’t immediately know about their plans).
As they waited by the entrance for Gojo to keep moving, Geto passed by, making the trio freeze. He stared at them—first squinting, wondering what the hell they were up to, then he smiled, his eyes shining too brightly. “What’re you guys doing?”
“Uh…” Megumi was internally cursing himself, Yuji, and Nobara (mostly the two).
“Spying on Gojo-sensei,” Nobara states with no hesitation.
“Get this, Geto-sensei, Gojo-sensei asked me about a person in the cafe he always goes to, I said yeah I think they’re there—AND HE JUST STARTED RUNNING!” Yuji says with an incredulous tone as he places his hands on his head. Nobara shushes him, trying to tell him off for being too loud.
“They’re curious because he could’ve just teleported if it was that important,” Megumi murmurs.
“Aren’t you curious?” Yuji asks.
Megumi doesn’t respond, he simply clicks his tongue and looks away as he crosses his arms over his chest. Geto chuckles, giving Megumi a subtle glance. They both know about it, especially Megumi because he lives with him.
“Let’s goooo! Gojo-sensei’s leaving!” Nobara says in a hushed tone.
“I still can’t believe he isn’t teleporting—it’s like he forgot he’s a sorcerer or whatever,” Yuji mumbles.
“Guys… we have class with Geto-sensei…,” Megumi grumbles.
Geto simply waves his hand and smiles. “Skipping for today wouldn’t hurt.”
Megumi looks absolutely flabbergasted.
Gojo keeps tapping his fingers on the table, his right leg is restless, and his eyes—though covered with his glasses—keep darting to the entrance, waiting for the familiar sight of you. His eyes would immediately look at the door when he’d hear the chimes, frowning every now and then when it wasn’t you. It… is kind of his fault for being so antsy, because he got here an hour and a half before the actual meeting time.
He sighs as he taps on the screen of his phone, checking for the time. It was then, he heard the chimes, and his head snapped to the direction of the entrance, a smile creeping up on his lips when he finally saw you go through the door. You spot him immediately, not even trying to hide the grin forming on your face as you walk over to his table. Before you could even grab the chair, Gojo was already pulling it out for you.
“What a gentleman,” you tease, your eyes flickering away when you see him smile brightly. It was enough to make you feel flustered. As you sit down on the chair, he pushes it forward gently, immediately going to his own afterwards.
“Did I make you wait long?” you ask, your eyes flickering to his and to your back a couple of times.
He shakes his head—the liar–-as he pushes his glasses up to his head. “Nah, just got here a few minutes ago,” liar.
“What do you wanna get? My treat.”
You chuckle nervously and wave your hands. “That’s not necessary…”
He pouts. He pouted and he looked away, as if he were a small child who was denied candy. You blinked in disbelief before laughing, and your laugh? Your laugh was like music to his ears and he can’t help but smile and—god, this is so corny. But he doesn’t mind it, in fact, it’s perfect for him. He is, after all, a hopeless romantic through and through.
“Okay, fine. I’ll have a…”
In the far corner of the cafe sat four… inconspicuous people—or at least, two of them think they are and the other two are just playing along at this point. Megumi and Geto sat together, facing Nobara and Yuji. The brown-haired and pink-haired duo were wearing (not really) convincing “disguises”. Nobara asked the three if they wanted anything before she went to order (it would be really embarrassing if they had to leave because they didn’t buy anything) and before she could, Geto interrupted her and told her he’ll go order for them.
“Why are we doing this…?” Megumi huffs.
“Because!” Nobara whisper-shouts.
Yuji glances at Gojo, noticing how he leaned in slightly closer, his elbow propped up on the table to let his chin rest on his fist. How he still didn’t have his glasses back on his face. He looked like he was listening to every word you were saying (as he should) and that even though he probably knew they were there, he didn’t pay it any mind at all. His attention was solely on you.
“I think… we probably shouldn’t be here,” Yuji mutters.
Nobara whips her head to face him with an incredulous look on her face. “What—”
“Look—” Yuji gestures to Gojo and you. “—he looks so… I don’t know… this feels so private and like we’re invading—”
“You’re just realizing it now?” Megumi deadpans.
Geto comes over to their table with their orders, they were all wrapped up and ready to-go, like he anticipated this. “You guys ready to leave?”
“Honestly I’d love to like, draw you properly.”
“Yeah?” Gojo grins.
The two of you were out of the cafe, now walking to where you lived. You were near each other enough to feel tingles—like, you’re almost touching, but you can only feel his presence.
“Why don’t we schedule it? Here, gimme your phone.”
He goes on to input his number in your contacts, having the audacity to name himself as “my muse <3”. The amount of time he spent with you today was (somewhat) enough for him to bypass his awkwardness.
And just like that, you were at your doorstep. You go up the small stairs leading to the entrance before turning around to face him. He had his hands in his pockets, his eyes never leaving your form.
“Well… goodnight, Satoru.”
It looked like he was about to say something, a joke maybe, but he stopped himself, opting to just smile at you in return. You bite the inside of your cheek, an internal debate on whether or not you should kiss him…
You slowly make your way over to him, gently grabbing his face with both of your hands, making him lean down enough for you to press a soft kiss on his forehead. He blinks once, he blinks twice—all of a sudden you were already behind your door, smiling brightly at him.
“See you.”
He simply stares wide-eyed, blush coming from his neck to his face and ears. He waves, or at least it looked like one, before standing still once again, even when you closed the door.
Was he hoping for a kiss? Oh definitely. Did he expect it? Absolutely not.
