And in these next 50 years you will eat so many delicious meals, laugh so many times with so many people you love, shout and scream and sing and cry and smile so hard your face hurts. And you will see such beautiful sunsets and feel fresh cold air on your face and feel warm and safe wrapped up in your favourite winter coat.
Boyfriend!Jabber headcannons, 40% Fluff 60% smut, Listen to the song provided for a better experience.
â Boyfriend!Jabber who's obsessed with you and everything you do to him physically and emotionally
â Boyfriend!Jabber who takes missions with you just to mess you with you and get on your nerves
â Boyfriend!Jabber who lacks any sense of boundaries and is glued to your hip every second of the day
â Boyfriend!Jabber who's irresponsible in alot of ways but not when it comes to you
â Boyfriend!Jabber who's smarter than he shows
â Boyfriend!Jabber who loves you being bitchy and putting him in his place during sex
â Boyfriend!Jabber that loves when you fuss over his injuries and mend him back to health
â Boyfriend!Jabber who comes back home to you fucked up on his poison with the pure intent just to fuck to ride the high off
â Boyfriend!Jabber who doesn't care who sees or hears you having sex because you're too pretty to be quiet
â Boyfriend!Jabber who never takes off his rings during sex so you can feel the contrast of the cold metal on your warm pussy
â Boyfriend!Jabber who cant stick to just one position so he rag dolls you around to find your sweet spot
â Boyfriend!Jabber who fucks like a rabbit on crack because of how needy he is for you
(This was interesting to write, this one isn't my favorite tbh I feel like i did better witth my Bro hcs. I dont like jabber but the song inspired me to do him. If there's any spelling errors or feed back pls let me knowwww.
đČđą đăembarrassing moments during sex !! â ft. gachiakuta guys + fem! reader
ê° Ë â gris âĄàœČàŸ ê±
after a long night of gris fucking you into the mattress, his warm hands planted firmly on your hips from behind, the two of you were completely spent. so, itâs only natural that the two of you fell asleep like that; gris still holding you tight, and his cock still buried deep, even as you both snore away. when morning rolled around, youâd assume gris would just pull out and start his day, right? well, no. because heâs in a bit of a.. predicament. heâs stuck. through the night, you clenched around his cock and somehow trapped him inside of you. gris just decides to fall back asleep and deal with it when youâre back awake.
ê° Ë â jabber âĄàœČàŸ ê±
jabber insisted that you choke him tonight. despite his injuries from a fight earlier that day, you decided to do it for him anywaysâ he probably wouldnât accept a ânoâ for that, anyways. so, you complied; hands wrapped around his neck as your hips roll against his. a moan leaves your lips, hands twitching and tightening against him as your pace quickens. and just as your hands grip his neck a little tighter; jabber lets out a choked groan. his eyes roll back, and a low gurgle leaves his throat. you blink, pausing every movement as you stare back at him. he goes limp for a few seconds, mumbled leaving his lips before he jolts back to life.
âheyâ whyâd you stopâ?!â he yelps, eyebrows furrowing. âthat was so goodâ my life flashed before my eyes, for real!â
ê° Ë â enjin âĄàœČàŸ ê±
enjin doesnât mind getting a bit frisky in public. honestly, he quite likes it; the thought of potentially getting caught has him rock hard. so you werenât surprised when his hand started creeping up your thigh as the two of you sat in the carâ with like, practically every other cleaner sitting near you both. maybe not that many⊠but it sure felt like it. enjin, though, doesnt care. his fingers just keep moving up, eventually finding themselves under your pants and rubbing against your panties. just as he was going to slip them under, finally touching you properly; rudoâs yells out.
âWHAT ARE YOU DOING, ENJIN?!â rudo shouts in horror, before reaching over to shove at his arm. âLET GO OF HER!â he wails, mistaken. it seems he came to a different conclusion than others would.
ê° Ë â zanka âĄàœČàŸ ê±
zanka, despite his protests, is not the best at taking off his clothes in these intimate moments. he likes to pretend heâs good at it; but you both know the truth. this is why he likes it more when you do it for him. but tonight, heâs decided he wants to try one more time.
âno,â he shakes his head, lightly shoving you to lay down on the bed: âiâve got this.â zanka reassures with a grin, lifting a hand to shimmy his pants down. he moves to kick them offâ but his foot gets caught. and in just a few seconds, heâs already flipped and landing face-first onto the bed, lightly bouncing on the mattress beside you. he just sighs in embarrassment.
I love yanderes that are genuinely bewildered and heartbroken when you're scared of them. They've got such a sincere look of confusion on their face when you snap at them and shove them away. They're absolutely crestfallen when you flinch out of their touch. It's a deeply horrific and infectious delusion that almost makes you feel like you've done something wrong.
pairings aged-up!neteyam x mangkwan!female warrior
notes stupid loverboy neteyam, emotional turmoil for the reader, smut (p in v), oral (f & m receiving), childhood trauma :(, kuru torture, violence and blood, reader is a tough cookie but deep inside she just longs for a normal life
synopsis you were sent to kill neteyam, the warrior you have repeatedly grappled with in your clanâs raids that he kept sabotaging. you are confident he wonât recognize you without your paint, but alas, he does!
âTake this and go!â You pushed a woven basket of herbs into the arms of a young raider, jerking your head toward the hoard of direhorses waiting on the sidelines.
The smell of burning fibers is the familiar perfume of your clan's raids. As the people around you scream in horror, you could almost smell their fears, too. The village huts dissolved into orange embers while you moved around, your double-bladed staff a crimson blur, deflecting a wild swing from a desperate villager and had the man running away. Your fellow raiders pillaged what could be pillaged while Vakrep, the nephew of Varangâs second-in-command Riku, barked orders.
The Mangkwan fell in a disarray the moment Omatikaya war cries were heard from above. Now, most of them were panicking, much like the people of the clan you were just raiding. You were running toward what seemed to be a storage hut when a scream resounded from the distance, your head whipped on its direction, immediately seeing a young boy, barely taller than your waist, his eyes wide with terror as he dodges a Mangkwan warrior twice his size. Taykan, laughed a harsh, guttural sound, his spear already arcing down. You didn't hesitate, you ran towards them, holding your bladed staff out, the curved blade flashing before it hooked on the Taykanâs arm, yanking him off balance. He stumbled, roaring in surprise.
âGo!â you said, a low growl in your chest, eyes fixed on the child.
The boy scrambled away, a small blue streak vanishing into the smoke. Tayrep snarled, regaining his footing.
âFor fireâs sake! What is wrong with you?!â he spat, eyes narrowed at you.
You fixed him with a stare that promised pain. âWe are to raid the village, not hunt children for sport. Go, help the others secure the hoard!â
He hesitated, then grumbled, turning to rejoin the fray. Your gaze tracked the boyâs escape, a flicker of something soft in your eyes when suddenly, you heard a loud curse from one of the sky people who accompanied you in the raid. Your head snapped to his direction, seeing his metal body grappled against an Omatikaya, larger and taller than his specialized metal suit. You saw the manâs fist move in several sharp, foreign motion, sending blow after blow, and puncturing the manâs metal suit with a sickening crack.
You tilted your head, your lips parting. Neteyam. A Mangkwan ran toward him but he spun fast, his wrist twisting to use the longer blade his weapon to wound the man with a hard jab before kicking him away, returning to the metal suit. Once heâs ruined it all, he pushed it to the ground, not killing the tawtute.
Your gaze traced up from the muscles on his arm up to his angled jaw. His presence here, during a Mangkwan raid, was a familiar insult. Two years ago, on a similar night, you grappled with him in a combat, failing to truly hurt him which you think he deserves for sabotaging your clanâs raid. You remembered the clash of your blade against the blade of his knife at his forearm. Heâs extremely strong and hss surprising speed for a warrior of his size, so you learned not to underestimate him.
A low hiss escaped your lips at the sight of him and you lunged without thinking. He turned to you, his eyes widening a little before reacting to meet you halfway, his dual blade fist knife at the ready. You spinned your staff, hurling the blades closer to him. He was taller, a wall of muscle even before, but you were more agile, your quickness a match for his brute strength. The blade that extended to his forearm parried a thrust of your blade. You danced around him, seeking an opening, and smiling like a predator eyeing its meal.
His sharp eyes tracked your every move before shifting, a fluid grace that belied his size, blocking your strikes instinctively. You faked a high strike, then dropped low, sweeping your staff in a wide arc. He jumped, agile as a viperwolf, but you were already twisting, bringing the staff up, the curved hook of the blade catching his shoulder. He grunted, pulling back, but not before the jagged edge bit deep. A line of crimson bloomed on his shoulder.
âStill too slow,â you murmured, a triumphant glint in your eyes.
He huffed, his eyes glowing with playful mischief. You narrowed your eyes, annoyed, so you pressed your advantage, a flurry of strikes to force him back and back until his heel caught on a fallen branch. He stumbled, off balance but he immediately found his footing. You pushed him, hard, your hand pressing againg his chest when you heard Vakrepâs roar cut through the air as he called your name. You glanced over your shoulder, then back at Neteyam. His eyes were fixed on you, a strange intensity in their depths.
You pushed him again. âGo!â you hissed, your voice low and urgent.
He didn't move, just watching you, his breathing ragged. You turned, sprinting towards your party, leaving him standing there in the middle of the burning village. You risked a glance back and saw that he was still there, a lone, blue figure, watching you disappear into the smoke and fire. You remembered years ago... That same moment when you looked back and he was just standing there, watching you run away.
A few moons later, the training grounds was filled with the sounds of blades clashing. You moved among the young Mangkwan, correcting stances, demonstrating blocks, your double-bladed staff a natural extension of your arm. The red blades flashed as you carried it with controlled precision, sparring with a young Mangkwan, barely a man, his eyes wide with concentration. He lunged, a predictable move, and you flowed around him, the flat of your staff tapping his side.
âDead,â you said in a bored tone. âYouâll die quick if youâre too eager.â
He nodded and you continued, ensuring to fulfill your role of honing their skills, keeping in mind the philosophy that pulsed in every Mangkwanâs vein: only the strong survive. Those who are too weak to hunt, those who are too injured to recover, are left to death for the taking, left to rot as lessons to others.
You remembered SĂ€yimâs frail hand, her hunting days long behind her. Kekihe, her granddaughter, was no more than a foal. They were what this clan sees as disposable, marked for abandonment. Your heart silently rebelled to your own peopleâs words. SĂ€yim and Kekihe are your life. A family you found in the chaos.
Your eyes caught Vakrep standing on the sidelines. His eyes, as always were on you, the possessive glint in his eyes making your skin crawl. He raised a hand by the time your current trainee wws done.
âIâll spar with you next,â you heard him say, the sound followed by the snickering of his foolish crew behind him. âI miss... touching you.â
You gritted your teeth, your hand itching to wound him for the disgusting meaning behind his words, reinforcing the talks he spread about having bedded you which held no truth in them. âYou talk too much,â you spat, your hand gripping your staff.
His lips curled into a sickening smile, stepping closer to you. âJust a friendly bout, yerik. Do not embarrass me or elseââ
You didnât wait for him to finish. You lunged, spinning your staff, until one of its blades cut an arc across his chest. He jerked back, the tip of your blade catching only the thick woven strap of his knife sheath. His crewâs laughter died down instantly.
âCareful,â he gasped, his smirk faltering as he scrambled to draw his own knife. âYouâll ruin the fun before weâve even started.â
âThe fun starts when you stop breathing,â you hissed, circling him but he moved fast, too.
His low growl rumbled behind you, making you spin, sending a wide, sweeping kick that he evaded. He grinned at you, a predatorâs flash of teeth, his eyes hungry. âThe yerik fights like a nantang... Always so compelling,â he sneered, lunging.
You ignored him as you twisted, his grip only grazing your shoulder. You delivered a sharp jab to his ribs, and he grunted, stumbling back, but only for a moment. He came at you again, faster, stronger. He aimed for your head, but you blocked, the jarring impact travelling up your arm. You saw an opening, and you swept his legs out from under him, sending him butt first in the dust. Before he could recover, your staff was already descending on him, the tip of the red blade pressing against his throat while your foot kicked his chest. He looked up at you, his eyes burning with renewed obsession, not anger nor defeat.
âOne day, yerik,â he rasped, his voice dark with promise, âYou will be mine.â
You hissed at him. âIn your dreams, you disgusting dust.â
You were planning to push your blade further on his throat if only a young Mangkwan didnât arrive, calling you. âVarang calls for you. At the ops center.â
The ops center. You had been there only once since the last year when Varang joined forces with the sky people, finding the alien smell and cold metals really unsettling. You canât tolerate sky people either with the way they look at your people as though they were tools to use when necessary or mere animals to be tolerated.
The place was filled with machinery and the glare of foreign light that could take the form of anything. Quaritch stood before one, his face etched with grim determination. Varang, her regal posture unwavering, stood beside him, her eyes holding a glint of something you couldn't quite decipher. Meanwhile, General Ardmore stood in the middle.
Quaritch gestured to the shimmering hologram. It showed a desolate landscape, a half-built RDA outpost, then a sudden, explosive eruption. Dust and debris filled the air, and through it, a flash of blue, an ikran flying through the chaos. Its rider, impossibly precise, was disabling machinery and killing sky people. The footage zoomed in, revealing a face, grim and focused. Neteyam.
You watched, a strange awe blooming in your chest for his sheer audacity. He was a force of nature, a single warrior dismantling an entire armed installation. He was everything the Mangkwan revered in a fighter. Too bad, heâs the enemy.
âYou looked as if youâre impressed...â Varangâs voice cut through the hum of the machines. Her eyes, narrowed, watched you from across the room.
You turned to her, shrugging, a deliberate nonchalance you didn't actually feel. âHeâs not one to be underestimated.â
General Ardmore snickered, a humorless sound. âSheâs right. Sullyâs boy is one hell of a man. Who among us here will happily march into a hell pit as easily as his boy has?â
Quaritch huffed, a gust of irritation. âHe underestimates and embarrasses us, Ardmore. He will continue to think we are assailable if we just let him beââ
âBut we are, Quaritch.â Ardmore cut him off, her voice sharp. âIf he could come riding that banshee and disable an entire armed outpost with his primitive weapons, then we are assailable, and that is embarrassing. We will put an end to this, once and for all. And I hear he is also a concern for the Mangkwan?â She turned her gaze to Varang.
âHe is. He has sabotaged many of my peopleâs raids in the past years.â Varangâs voice was laced with venom. She strode towards you, her movements deliberate, her eyes never leaving yours. She reached out, her fingers cupping your face, tilting your chin up, presenting you to the sky people as if you were a prize. âThis is who Iâm talking about⊠my most beautiful warrior and the most skilled in combat.â
âShe is beautiful,â Ardmore agreed, her eyes sweeping over you. âWe will send her, at your approval.â
Your eyes snapped back to Varang, a knot tightening in your stomach. Send you? To what? Varang offered them a sly smile, a chilling curve of her lips. âI approve.â
Your breath hitched. âWhatâs going on?â The words were a strained whisper.
Varangâs hand, surprisingly gentle, moved to your braids, her fingers tracing the simple headdress you wore, a lone red stone framed by two viperwolf teeth, marking your high rank intl the clan. âWe will send you to that damned son of Toruk Makto, daughter. You will kill him⊠Avenge your brothers and sisters that fell in his hands... Think you could do that for me... For us?â Her smile remained, but now it held an uncanny quality that sent a shiver down your spine.
Fear, cold and sharp, pricked at your resolve. You swallowed, trying to steady your voice. âAnd what if he kills me instead?â The question hung in the air, a challenge Varang rarely tolerated. Her people followed without question, without doubt. To hesitate was to border on betrayal. You saw the impatience flicker in her eyes as she eyed you darkly.
âThen you die.â she declared nonchalantly. âIt is something you must do for the people.â Her voice hardened, leaving no room for argument.
Quaritch then stepped forward, his voice a rumble, outlining the details. They told you about the annual convention of the clans which you already know about, a gathering of all the chieftains, discussing peace and trade among each other. They introduced you to a Liâonan man named Taryu who you were told is an RDA mole, infiltrating events such as that to learn the movements of the clans.
He would accompany you along with Trojan, a recombinant soldier under Quaritch, to ensure your entry in the convention. Taryu, a traitor to his own kind, explained that Neteyam would be there this season, to accompany his father, Jake Sully, as next-in-line to the Omatikaya leadership.
You listened to everything they were saying, registering nothing because your mind is reeling. You have to kill Neteyam. At the convention. You pictured the bustling gathering, the chieftains, their heirs, the throng of people. You couldn't just attack him there. Youâd be dead before your blade even found him. Or perhaps, you would succeed, only to be cut down moments later. A cold dread settled in your gut. You couldn't die. Not now. Not when you have SĂ€yim and Kekihe depending on you.
You walked back to the yurt you share with SĂ€yim and Kekihe, the familiar scent of leaves burning greeting you as you entered. Kekihe, barely eight seasons old, played with grass, pretending to weave them together, her forehead furrowed in concentration but as you entered, her head snapped up.
âSister!â she grinned, her happy face looking up at you as if you hung the stars yourselves.
SĂ€yim sat by the low fire, roasting yerik meat wrapped in leaves. She smiled up at you, her eyes filled with adoration making you finally smile. Her eyes betrayed her true feelings though, reflecting her worry for you as she signed. You understand the familiar movement of her hands, remembering what you had to do.
You moved to the fire, warming your hands and staring at the embers. âVarang wants me to go to the convention,â you said, your voice flat. âI will be gone... Maybe a few days. Iâve checked our provisions. You two should be alright until Iâm back.â You smiled.
SĂ€yimâs hands, gnarled but strong, flew to your arms, gripping them tightly. Her eyes pleaded, her mouth unable to form the words. She shook her head, signing with frantic gestures, a language only you could understand, yet sometimes donât. Right now, you're refusing to understand. She understands without you telling her what your mission will be. What will a Mangkwan do at the convention anyway? She drew a line across her throat, then pointed to you, then to Kekihe. A shudder ran through you. She was warning you.
âI will be alright,â you tried to reassure her. âIâll be back.â
But she wouldn't let go, her grip tightening, her signs growing more desperate. Her hands signed the sign for Varang, then a knife, then your neck. She was furious, her distress visibke. You had to calm her, murmuring reassurances you didn't believe yourself. You understood her fear: Varang is sending you to your death. But the deeper meaning of her signs, the truth she tried to convey about your parents, remained just out of reach, a truth you werenât able to grasp.
You left the yurt before the sun even rose, the weight of SĂ€yimâs unspoken words and Kekiheâs innocence pressing down on you. You had always known Varangâs ruthlessness. You had seen Mangkwan warriors, out of their blind fanaticism of her, sacrifice themselves for her and... Now, she is asking for your life. The thought of Neteyam, the warrior you secretly respected, the one you were now commanded to kill, twisted in your gut. It is not always that you admit fear... But right now, you are scared.
The journey to the convention was a blur of discomfort. Trojan, a hulking figure wearing your skin with the dead eyes of a sky person, accompanied you and Taryu who led the way. He didnât only ensure your entry in the covention, he also secured your place among the female performers, a group of young women from various clans, their faces painted with bright, intricate designs.
You stood among them, your own face free of your clanâs ash and paint. Taryu explained that it was part of the disguise, to appear harmless, a simple girl among many young women. You watched them prepare, their laughter light and unrestrained, and a pang of something akin to longing pierced you. You wondered what it would be like, to be one of them, a normal girl, unburdened by the weight of Varangâs ambition, of your clanâs harsh creed. You were twenty, past the age when most women mated, yet no man in the Mangkwan had ever stirred your heart, nor even truly captured your attention. You imagined a simpler life with SĂ€yim and Kekihe, a different path, away from the hardness of your own people. The thought felt traitorous, but in that moment, anger at Varang overshadowed all else.
The performance began. The drums pulsing, vibrating through the ground. You moved with the other dancers, your body flowing, your limbs graceful as you danced, a mask of serenity plastered over your face, belying the turmoil inside you. You tried to lose yourself in the movement, to forget the knife strapped to your thigh, the mission.
As you spun, your eyes, almost instinctively, drifted towards the dais where the clan chieftains and their heirs sat. And then you saw him. Neteyam. You stopped breathing as your heart gave a lurch, a frantic drum against your ribs. From where you are, you can feel his eyes in your direction but you couldnât be so sure. You are confident he wonât recognize you without your paint, after all, heâs only ever seen you clad in it.
Yet, your stomach clenched, tearing your gaze away, focusing on the dance, on the rhythm, on anything but him. But every time you stole a glance, his eyes were still fixed on your direction. Even when he turned to speak to those beside him, his eyes seemed to return to you, a silent, unwavering focus.
The performance ended. The dancers dispersed, mingling with the crowd and you found yourself wandering, inspecting the stalls that belong to each clan, displaying their unique crafts and delicacies. You accepted every offer of fermented fruit juice, the potent liquid a welcome distraction that helps numb your nerves. You moved through the throngs of people, your senses overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells of a world so different from the ash lands of the Mangkwan or the metallic and asphalt of Bridgehead.
A young man, his face painted with the markings of the Tayrangi clan, began to speak to you, offering another bowl of juice. âThat is the sweetest Iâve ever tasted. I saw you trying the juices, you might like that,â he said.
You took it before he even finished talking, nodding performatively, barely listening, your eyes still flicking towards the dais. Neteyam was still there, engaged in conversation. He hadnât approached. A strange mix of relief and disappointment washed over you.
You lifted the bowl to your lips, the sweet liquid a comfort. The young man rambled on, his voice a pleasant tone that you conveniently tuned out, you didnât even notice when he abruptly fell silent. In your peripheral vision though, you saw a towering form approach.
âNeteyam,â the young man greeted, touching his forehead. âOel ngati kameie.â
A deep voice, resonant and familiar, cut through the din as he returned the greeting. You remained focused on your bowl, pretending not to notice the imposing presence even when you felt his eyes on you, a warmth that prickled your skin. You are so nervous.
âWhat is there to enjoy?â you heard Neteyam ask the young man. You stepped back a little, giving them space. You peered up, and your eyes met his. He touched his forehead, a formal greeting, then his gaze dropped to the bowl in your hand. âWhat are you drinking?â The casual question was directed at you, his eyes, dark and intense, never leaving yours.
âSwoaâŠâ you answered, a slight tilt of your head, a carefully practiced innocence. You lifted the bowl slightly so heâd look at it instead of you.
His lips parted in a small smile before reaching out, his large hand covering yours as he gently grabbed the bowl. He didnât take it fully from your grasp, but rather brought it to his lips while you're stil holding it, his eyes still locked with yours as he sipped.
âSweet,â he said, his voice a low murmur.
The young man from earlier, sensing the shift in attention, had quietly slipped away, unwilling to challenge Neteyamâs obvious interest. You tilted your head. âAnd if itâs poisoned?â
A small smile sliced across his lips, revealing a flash of white teeth. âIs it?â
You narrowed your eyes. âIt could be, and you drank straight from it.â Your usual biting tone slipped before you finished the remaining liquid in your bowl. Your gaze snagging on the white scar on his shoulder, a stark line against his blue skin. Your scar. Your handiwork. A smirk touched your lips before meeting his eyes again, seeing him still watching you, a knowing glint in their depths.
âIt would be worth it then,â he retorted, his voice playful, a challenge. âFor a man to stare at a woman as beautiful as you as he dies?â He received his own bowl of fermented juice from a passing server, his eyes never leaving yours.
You huffed, a small, disbelieving sound. âYou are stupid.â You hadnât expected this. The serious, formidable warrior you had fought was replaced by this charming, stupidly reckless man. âDo we know each other?â you pretended to ask, your eyes searching his face.
A boyish smile broke across his face, transforming his features. âMy nameâs Neteyam,â he said, his voice a warm rumble. âYours?â His question was breathless, as if he hung on your answer.
You considered lying, inventing a name, a clan, a false identity. But a strange impulse, a sudden defiance against Varangâs machinations, pushed your real name from your lips.
He repeated it, testing the sound on his tongue, a soft reverence in his voice. He smiled, a genuine, open smile. âI think I could have imagined that you have a name very fitting.â
You rolled your eyes, a small, genuine laugh escaping you. He was a smooth talker and undeniably charming that you found yourself amused despite the gravity of your mission. You wandered with him through the bustling convention, moving from stall to stall, exploring the various clansâ offerings. He pointed out different customs, shared observations, his voice steady and pleasant, as if heâs used to talk about nearly everything, a true diplomat. Meanwhile, you accepted every offer of fermented juice as though they were bowls of courage sent your way. By the sixth bowl, he caught your hand before you could even lift it to your lips.
âPlanning to get drunk?â he asked, his grip firm but gentle.
You looked at him, shaking your head. âJust trying to relax.â
âYou donât like festivities?â he asked, his hand hovering at your waist as you navigated the crowd.
You shook your head again. Mangkwan gatherings were rarely joyous affairs, more often rituals or raucous snuff parties orchestrated by Varang. You found little pleasure in the addicting fumes. You had experienced how it dulled the senses and twisted the mind, and Varang herself rarely indulged in it. You prefer having your wits about you every hour of the day.
âWould you like to explore the woods instead?â he asked, his voice casual, as though there was no meaning in there at all, but perhaps, there was truly none. Neteyam loved festivities, but he also loved peace and quiet which he often found in the woods back home.
You, however, snapped up like syĂl hearing a movement. This is it. The opportunity you had been seeking. Get him alone. Render him vulnerable. You fought the urge to narrow your eyes, to let your true intentions show. Instead, you offered him a small, shy smile. âIf you want.â
You walked into the forest, the sounds of the convention fading behind you. Bioluminescent flora illuminated your path, casting a glow on the towering trees. You reached out, your fingers tracing the glowing leaves as you two walked. The air here was clean, damp, and alive with the scent of growing things, very different to the metallic smell of Bridgehead and the choking ash of your homeland. You breathed deeply, trying to calm the frantic beating of your heart. You were about to do something you had never done before, something that felt both terrifying and exhilarating.
You stopped by a large pitcher plant, its leaves shaped like a goblet. You pulled it down gently, arching your head back before catching the cool, pure water that trickled from it. Some droplets rolled down your chin as you swallowed, rolling down your neck as you faced Neteyam, offering him another shy, innocent smile, part of the act, part of the lure, which proved to be effective because his eyes, dark and dilated, watched you, captivated. He lifted a hand, his thumb brushing away a drop of water from the corner of your mouth.
You stepped forward, boldly, emboldened by all the fermented juice you drank. You rose onto your toes, your lips brushing his, a light touch. You watched his face, saw his eyes drop to your lips, then lock with yours.
âYeah?â his deep voice grumbled.
He watched the playful glint in your golden orbs before moving. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close, molding your body against his. His other hand cupped your neck and jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek. His lips descended on yours, hard and searching, a fierce hunger that stole your breath. You staggered back, until your back met a tree. You pulled him closer, your fingers tangling in the braids at the nape of his neck, your other hand pressing against the solid wall of his chest. The sweetness of the fermented juice, the taste of him, filled your mouth. He kissed you with a desperate intensity, as if the world would end with the next breath.
His hand slid down your back, a warm caress. You tensed, a fleeting worry that he would feel the scarifications that marked your skin. But he didnât pause, his fingers trailing lower, past your waist, cupping your ass to lift you.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms tightening around his neck, pulling him deeper. He broke away, only for a moment, his breath ragged, his eyes scanning the surrounding forest probably to look for a place. He kissed your neck, the sensation sending shivers through you, as he walked a little deep away from the main path, finding a private clearing.
The soft moss yielded beneath your weight as he lowered you down. The bioluminescent plants cast a dim glow around you, treating you to a view of his sculpted body as he loomed over you, a mountain of muscle and intent. His eyes held yours as he lowered himself, his lips claiming yours once more.
You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, while his calloused hand found your breast, giving it a possessive squeeze that made you breathily sigh. He pulled back, his gaze lingering on your face before dropping to the pink feathers adorning your chest. A deft movement, and the top was tossed carelessly to the side, leaving you exposed to the cool night air.
You gritted your teeth, watching his face carefully, trying to see if youâll see change in them. Three parallel lines of scarification bumps formed a V-shape across your shoulder blades, meeting at your cleavage. They connected to the same patterns on your upper back, the unmistakable tradition of the Mangkwan. You waited and yet he didn't flinch, didn't question, only dipping his head low before you felt his warm lips trace the line of your neck, down to the raised bumps of the scarifications on your shoulders. He kissed them, then licked, a slow, deliberate exploration that made your breath hitch. His eyes, dark and hungry, flickered up to yours as he captured an engorged nipple. You moaned at the foreign, exhilarating sensation, cradling his head as he suckled on them.
He moved further down, his lips tracing another series of vertical lines of scarification on your abdomen, leading to the delicate V-shape of your lower belly. He kissed and licked, a low hum rumbling in his chest, as if it all made it feel better for him. His fingers, gentle yet firm, found your tail, a soft caress that made you arch your back. Then, his lips brushed against the long scar on your inner thigh, a tender kiss as he untied the simple knot of your loincloth. More loving kisses followed the length of the scar as the fabric fell away.
You felt yourself pooling between your legs, a hot flush of embarrassment rising in you. You had touched yourself countless of times before, even explored with your wooden phallics, but this⊠this was different. His eyes met yours, a silent question in their depths. You groaned, a guttural sound, and he laughed, a deep, rich rumble.
âRelax...â he kissed your inner thigh before dipping his head, his tongue lashing out. Consecutive hard sucks followed and you couldn't help but moan louder, your hips bucking instinctively. Your imagination, it seemed, had been utterly inadequate. It hadnât prepared you for the possibility of this.
Weak from his ministrations, your body thrummed, your mind barely conscious as your eyes focused on him. He was untying his own loincloth, his eyes darkly caressing your naked form. You bit your lip, pressing your feet against his lower abdomen, a silent command. He allowed it, smirking at you as he fully freed himself. Your gaze dropped, your breath hitching. He was long and thick, humbling your wooden toys by a mile. Daunted, you couldn't hide the apprehension in your eyes. He saw it, and a primal glint ignited in his own.
He grabbed your ankle, his large hand caressing your leg, tracing your calf, up to the underside of your knee. Then, with a firm clasp, he spread you wider. You couldn't even fake bravery as he lined his cock against the tight opening of your pussy, a soft nudge. You bit your lip and he lowered his head, capturing your mouth in a soft kiss, a good distraction. You moaned into his mouth as the wide head of him slipped inside you. It was uncomfortable at first, a stretching fullness youâd never known and when he eased more of himself in, the feeling intensified, making you feel so full.
He groaned, burying his face in your neck. You cradled his head, your fingers tangling in the strands of his braids. He pressed a hard kiss against your neck, and a scream tore at your throat when he plunged the rest of his length into you, burying himself balls deep.
You clutched his shoulders, your fingernails digging into his skin. He lifted his head, his eyes scanning your face, concern etched into their depths.
âHurt?â he rasped.
It did, but it thrilled you. You shook your head. âContinue,â you ordered, squeezing his shoulder. His eyes caressed your face, lingering. You watched for a flicker of recognition again, for his gaze to fall on the vertical lines of small scarifications that lined your nose.
âYou are so beautiful...â he mumbled instead, his voice thick with desire. He kissed you, then began to move, slow and deliberate at first, then building in rhythm. âSo fucking tight.â
You cupped his jaw, gently holding his face, willing him to stare into your eyes as he moved inside you. He did. Both of you were in a trance, the clearing filled with your moans and his groans. A guttural sound ripped from his chest when you kissed him softly, your lips brushing his as he drove into you.
âFuck,â he weakly breathed, a low chuckle rumbling from deep within him.
He moved with relentless rhythm, pushing you higher and higher until both of you shattered in an explosive climax. He kissed you as you came down, his thrusts shallow now, a gentle rocking. Then, he rolled on his back, pulling you with him, so you wouldn't bear his full weight. His hand, warm and heavy, caressed your back. After a while, you propped a hand on his chest, pushing yourself up. He watched you with dark, dilated eyes, his hand falling to rest on your waist.
âAgain?â he asked.
You bit your lip, then slowly, began to move on top of him. A moan escaped you as your clit repeatedly grazed against his pelvis. You quickened your pace, your hand reaching out, searching. Your fingers closed around the familiar hilt of your knife, lying discarded on the moss next to your loincloth.
In a snap, you brought the blade to his throat. His expression didnât change. His eyes, still dilated with raw desire, locked onto yours. His thumb, resting on your waist, continued its slow caress.
âDo it,â he whispered, his voice a low rasp.
You stared down at him, fear gripping your heart. This was never truly in you. Killing never brought you pleasure, nor was hurting people and animals. You do your duty for the clan but you donât hurt people if you can help it, but you know that doesnât make you a good person because at the end of it all, you still brought unimaginable horror to many people. Varang. She had forced your hand, given you no choice, treating you as a tool to use. Your whole life, you had always acted on her behalf, but this⊠this you couldn't do.
You have always considered this a weakness. You carried something most Mangkwan lacked: mercy. Why couldn't you just kill him? Prove your loyalty to Varang, to the people. But also, why should you? Why prove yourself to the leader who had sent you to your death?
You blinked, your hand, still holding the knife, loosening its grip on his neck. He felt it. So, without breaking eye contact, he slowly, carefully, moved his hand up, covering yours. He gently unclenched your fingers from the knife. When you released your hold, he took it, tossing it away with a soft thud. His hand, now free, hooked around your nape, pulling you down into a searing kiss. Shame and relief washed over you. Shame that he kissed you despite your attempt, and relief that he did. It was strange.
Both his arms now wrapped around you as he kissed you, his hips adjusting between your thighs. A broken cry tore from your throat as he began to thrust from below, his hips slapping against yours with desperate speed. You could barely form a complete string of moans. You didn't know you could be so turned on by the act of being caged in his strong arms, used for his pleasure that you climaxed again, a helpless, shattering release, while Neteyam chased his own, continuously slamming into you. By the time he finished, you were limp in his arms, breathing heavily, unable to move.
At some point, you drifted into a brief, light sleep, but then a jolt brought you back, finding him cleaning you up with a soft leaf. You scrambled away, your eyes hard and sharp, a stark contrast to the softness in his. You grabbed your loincloth and top, dressing quickly. He did the same, rising to his feet as you did.
âYou okay?â he asked, watching you carefully as though you were a wild viperwolf heâs trying to calm down.
You hissed at him. âWhat do you want to hear?â
He tilted his head. âReviews?â he asked, his voice playful and full of meaning.
Your eyes narrowed. âYou are stupid,â you said, continuing to tie your loincloth on your tail.
He chuckled, stupidly amused with your words. âI know you, you know,â he said, his gaze lingering on your face. âYou gave me this.â He pointed to the white scar on his shoulder. You glanced at it, a faint line on his dark skin. He felt a little foolish for pointing it out. It was shallow, shamed by the scars you bore, the ones he had just kissed. He couldn't even imagine the wounds they used to be.
You stared at him. âAnd yet you came up to me, you idiotic man.â
His eyes swept over your body, gaze so full of meaning you felt an urge to slap him. His eyes lit up though, a flicker of realization. âWere you supposed to be in disguise?â he whispered, genuinely curious.
Dumbfounded, you tilted your head. The answer was plain on your face and he scrambled for words. âI am Mangkwan.â you said, slowly, to get it into his thick head.
âI know. I just told you I know you,â he said as a matter of fact. You realized now. Why he hadn't been bothered by your scars because he knew you, he knew what you are. And still went there with you.
You huffed a frustrated breath. âYou are one stupid man. You are an idiot.â You hissed at him. You imagined the corpse he would have been now if Varang had sent a different Mangkwan.
He stared at you, his eyes still dazed. He didn't seem to care what you said. He held out your knife, the blade facing him.
Another groan tore from your throat. You snatched the knife from him. âYou ought to be careful next time. You were really easy,â you said, narrowing your eyes to mock him. âIf I had wanted to kill you, I would have done it already.â
He tilted his head, his eyes darkening, hot on you. âI have no doubt,â he said, a note of pride in his voice. âAnd there is no next time, neither was there a last time. Iâm not that easy.â
You couldn't help but laugh, a sharp, disbelieving sound. He seemed to realize what he had just said, because he smoothly looked away, his hand lifting, as if to rub his nape, before awkwardly dropping it. âSaving face, Sully? I got you there in record time.â You savored the newfound power, a delicious, unexpected sensation.
He stared at you, silent, but you could almost hear the gears grinding in his mind.
âWhat?â you snapped, confused by his unwavering gaze.
âJust... So this is how you look without your paint,â he said, his voice soft.
Your face crumpled in annoyance. He didn't take you seriously, and it was your own fault. You hissed at him, turning to walk away, feeling his hot gaze follow you and then the thud of his footsteps. Before you reached the edge of the woods, his hand caught your elbow. You tried to shake it off, but he pulled you back, a spring toy snapping into him. Your palms pressed against his broad chest as your body almost slammed against his.
âI want to see you again,â he said, his voice deep.
Your nose almost flared. âI have no reason to see you again,â you hissed, freeing yourself from his grasp. âBe thankful to your goddess that I showed you mercy.â
He watched you walk away this time, his eyes still glinting with a strange mix of amazement and amusement. You returned to the convention, searching for Taryu when a sharp clap was heard. Trojan stepped into view, a sneer twisting his features. You gritted your teeth at the sight of him.
âImpeccable performance,â he drawled, his voice laced with mock admiration. âYou didnât waste time, huh? Varang didnât tell us we had a hustler on our side.â
You stood impassive, giving him nothing.
âI wasnât even needed here. You did everything on your own. Got yourself out there and lured that damned demon effortlessly,â he continued, shaking his head. âYou must be really hot by Naâvi standards. I mean, you look delectable to me as it is, and Iâm a human.â His eyes raked over you.
You chuckled with disdain, the sound mocking his words, especially because he wore a Naâvi body. âI donât expect anything from you anyway. Now, are you going to patronize me for doing all the work, or will you shut up soon?â
He laughed, a harsh, grating sound. He bowed his head mockingly. âShutting up soon, but I need to know what happened. Where is the demonâs corpse?â
Demon. You wanted to roll your eyes. âI did not kill him. Itâs not a job for me to do,â you said, nonchalantly.
âWhat?â He said, stepping toward you. You stood your ground, watching him with dark eyes, daring him to come closer. âYou had the chance, and you did not?â
âHow many chances did the RDA have to kill that man? Probably uncountable, and yet he remains breathing. Is there really no honor in you sky people that you had to resort to underhanded tactics to kill a single man?â
âYou are in no position to talk about honor, Mangkwan,â he retorted, his voice sharp. âYou know nothing about politics and strategies. The RDA wonât waste resources and soldiers just for the life of one man.â
âThen the RDA must bear the losses that one man brings them,â you countered.
âI saw you disappear into the forest with him. Ah, I know,â a snicker escaped him. âHe fucked you. And you decided you wonât kill himââ
You hissed, unsheathing your knife, and before he could even blink an eye, you had the blade pressed against his throat. His eyes widened, primal fear flashing in their depths.
âDo not test me, demon,â you threatened, your voice a low hiss.
He took a short, sharp breath, afraid to move his head, lest you dig the blade deeper. He raised both hands, stepping back slowly, watching you as if you were a wild animal. âIâll relay what happened to Quaritch. Await your punishment from your deranged leader.â
The travel back to Bridgehead City was surprisingly calmer than your travel to the convention. You didnât know why, but you couldnât find your anxiety yet, even as you know that Varang will surely deal with you. The sterile air of Bridgehead that welcomd you made you wince. It scraped at your nostrils, it was a stark contrast to the humid forest you had just left.
Quaritch and Varang waited in the ops center, the room humming with the low thrum of machinery, banks of glowing screens casting an eerie blue light on their faces. Varangâs eyes, bright and predatory, settled on you as you entered. A wicked smile stretched her lips. You braced yourself, each step a march toward an inevitable punishment.
âIt is swift. Just as I expected from you, daughter.â Pride laced her voice, a sickening sweetness that made your gut clench.
Trojan snickered, the sound grating. âShe didnât kill that devil incarnate, Quaritch. She had the chance though, he got lured right into her trap without her trying but still, that ingrate didnât kill him.â
Varangâs smile vanished, her eyes snapping to you. âIs this true?â
You met her gaze, a chilling fear crawling up your spine, but you refused to shrink. âYes.â
Her hand clamped onto your forearm. âAnd you didnât kill him, why?â
Trojan snickered again. âGood questionââ
You hissed at him, cutting him off mid-sentence. Quaritch, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, raised a hand, silencing Trojan with a glance. You turned back to Varang, your voice low, controlled. âHe would kill me if I tried to. And truthfully, I do not want to die.â You lied. âIf the sky people want him dead, then they should come for him.â You shifted your gaze to Quaritch, a challenge in your eyes. âOr do you fear him, Colonel?â
Varangâs grip on your forearm tightened, her nails digging into your flesh. âHow dare you question Quaritch?â Her voice cracked like a whip. You clamped your mouth shut and she turned to Quaritch, a placating smile returning, though it didn't reach her eyes. âI will deal with her.â
She dragged you out, her grip like iron as you walked past the many machineries and tanks until you reached the place allotted for the Mangkwan. A few children played near the entrance to the living quarters, their laughter a contrast to the dread building within you. Kekihe called your name, her voice filled with innocent joy but Varangâs angry hiss silenced her, and worry morphed her face before her small features twisted in fear. Your forehead furrowed, a pang of hurt piercing through you as you watched how scared she was. You forced a smile, happily waving a hand, a silent assurance to soothe her.
Varang shoved you into her yurt. You stumbled, landing hard on the ground. You knew better than to rise, remaining kneeling, your head bowed, as her fury descended on you.
âYou brought me shame. You embarrass me to our allies!â Her eyes, wide and furious, burned into you. âWhy did you not kill him?â she bit out, each word sharp.
âOloâeykte, I already saidââ
âI do not care about what you do not want or whether you do not want to die,â she cut you off. âMy order was for you to kill the son of Toruk Makto.â Every word was emphasized, punctuated by the deceptive touch of her hand on the thick plait of braided hair behind your head. Your breath hitched, closing your eyes, knowing what would come. âAnd yet you failed me.â
A beat of silence and then a pained scream tore at your throat as she forcibly connected her kuru to yours. Your back arched, muscles spasming as you threw your head back, a primal shriek echoing in the yurt. White-hot pain seared through your mind, a thousand needles piercing your consciousness. The memories, long buried, erupted. Varangâs voice, cold and sharp, echoed in your head. You were much smaller, being punished for something you can't even remember anymore.
Your body felt like it was burning, every nerve ending aflame. You couldnât even see her clearly, your vision marred with streaks of white as desperation clawed at you, a desperate need to be freed from this torment.
She grabbed your jaw hard, her fingers digging into your cheek. âI would kill you right now for this misdeed. Tell me why I shouldnât.â
Your body convulsed, gasping for air, the world spinning. You forced words past your burning throat. âI have been loyal to you, Oloâeykte, my whole life.â That was the truth. You realized now how it was only ever driven by fear and never respect and devotion for her. You wished you could say more, explain the impossible choice she had forced upon you, but your mind was reeling.
She groaned, a sound of frustration, before pulling her kuru violently. You stumbled on the floor, chasing your breath, jolts of pulsing pain attacking your body. âYou do not want to kill him⊠but you are not scared of him.â She said, her voice laced with a strange realization, interpreting what she had read from your raw emotions. She narrowed her eyes at you, then pushed you away. âGet out of here!â
You crawled out of her yurt, gasping, your limbs trembling. Kekihe waited in the distance, her small frame hunched, tears streaming down her face. She ran to you, throwing her arms around your waist, burying her face in your hip, her sobs muffled against your skin. Anguish seized your heart as you kneeled. The physical and mental pain inflicted on you barely made you cry, but as Kekihe cries for you, only then did your tears fall.
You stroke her hair, assuring her you were okay, your voice rough with unspoken pain. âDo not cry loudly,â you whispered, your eyes darting back to Varangâs yurt, âShe might hear you.â
You returned to the yurt you shared with SĂ€yim and Kekihe. SĂ€yim sat by the low fire, her eyes fixed on the entrance. Kekihe, still sniffling, recounted what she witnessed. SĂ€yimâs face contorted, groans of rage tearing at her throat. You assured both of them you were fine, though your body throbbed and your spirit felt raw.
From that day forward, you had fallen from Varangâs favor. In turn, you had lost your last shred of respect for her. You didnât even know if you had ever truly respected her at all, or if you had simply done what you thought necessary to keep yourself, SĂ€yim and Kekihe, safe from her wrath.
You continued your duties, a silent rebel within her ranks. You trained young warriors. You hunted, venturing further from Bridgehead, seeking the clean scents of the forest. You hunted for SĂ€yim and Kekihe, for the vulnerable. If the hunt yielded more than enough, you shared with others, another act of defiance against the selfishness Varang has ingrained in her people.
A moon had waxed and waned since your encounter with Neteyam. And now, you hunted in a forest an hourâs flight from Bridgehead. You had washed away the ash and paint, leaving your skin bare, a conscious choice for a safer hunt. You knew the risks; others had paid with their lives for being Mangkwan in these territories.
You were stalking a small yerik when you heard a sudden, rhythmic thudding on the ground, followed by heavier ones. A blur of blue followed by the monstrous, hulking form of a palulukan, its massive mouth opened, snapping inches away from the personâs head. Without any hesitation, without even a thought, you released your arrow. It whistled through the air, but the palulukan, a creature of pure instinct managed to evade it. The arrow flew past its head, embedding itself harmlessly in a tree trunk further back.
You missed it, but your shot had done a different job. The palulukan, its momentum still carrying it forward, halted mid-stride, its massive head swiveling until its eyes fixed on you. Your breathing hitched at the same time an enraged bellow ripped from its throat. It coiled and then it launched itself, a terrifying, unstoppable force, directly at you. You stepped backward, nocking another arrow, and sending it flying. The forest, so peaceful moments before, now screamed with danger.
âRun!â A deep, resonant bellow, full of urgency and power, cut through the din.
But you didnât run. You aimed another arrow, holding your breath, scared but still defiant. The palulukan closed the distance between you two in terrifying strides. You released the arrow. It struck the beastâs shoulder, but it merely enraged it further. There was no more time. The palulukan was almost upon you. You turned, finally, to flee, running as fast as you could but your foot caught on a gnarled root, sending you stumbling. You cried out and fell hard on the ground. You felt a jolt of agony splintering up your foot. You sat there, watching in sickening slow motion as the massive palulukan zoomed forward. You fumbled for one of the separated blades of your double-bladed staff, preparing for a desperate, final stand.
This was it. Youâre going to die. But at least, it would be in the mouth of a palulukan.
But you heard a whistling sound, and then a thud. The palulukanâs charge faltered. It staggered, a guttural roar tearing from its throat, then it collapsed. An arrow, fletched with large green leaves, jutted from its chest, buried deep. The beastâs momentum carried it forward, its massive body plowing through the soft ground, sending a cloud of dust and leaves flying in the air until its snout came to rest mere inches from your outstretched foot.
Silence descended, broken only by your ragged breathing. You sat there, heart hammering, disoriented, the scent of dust thick in your nostrils as you heard heavy footsteps thud closer, purposeful and swift, followed by an angry, âWhat were you thinking?!â
You snapped your head up, indignation burning through the pain. How dare he yell at you after you had just saved him, and gotten yourself injured in the process? A tall, broad figure emerged from the tree line. Your lips parted, a huff of disbelief escaping you. Neteyam. His face, initially contorted with anger, softened, a quick wave of concern washing over his features as his eyes landed on you. You would laugh at the swift change if you werenât so thoroughly enraged.
You hissed at him. âHow dare you get mad? I saved you!â You gestured wildly to your throbbing foot. âAnd now, Iâm hurt!â
His eyes widened a fraction, traveling from your face to your ankle. âYouâre hurt?â he repeated, already scrambling to your side. He knelt, his large hands gently assessing your now swelling foot. âFuck, you sprained it.â
You raised a brow at the foreign word. You tried to move your foot, to pull yourself up, but a jolt of excruciating pain shot through your leg. He groaned and gathered you into his arms, lifting you easily as thought you weigh nothing, and set you down on a nearby rock, kneeling in front of you once more.
He carefully pressed down on your ankle, and you hissed. He looked up, his eyes filled with concern. âHurt?â
You bit your lip. âNothing I canât handle.â
He sighed, a deep, rumbling sound. âI wonât allow you to strain your foot further if thatâs what youâre planning to do.â His eyes dared you to challenge him. âIâve got you. Donât worry.â He opened his satchel, pulling out a flat, intricately carved container.
âAs you should, that happened because of you,â you said, watching him open the container, dismissing the fact that it was your decision to intervene.
He held your foot gently, applying a dollop of thick, minty balm to your ankle. âIâm sorry,â he looked up again, his expression earnest. âI didnât mean for this to happen.â
A prickle of guilt pierced your thick shell. You had blamed him, but he had saved you too. You pushed your lips forward. âI know,â you said in a small voice. âSorry.â A word you rarely utter.
He lifted his head, a small smile gracing his lips. When your eyes met, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You stared at him as a strange, ticklish warmth spread through your chest. You forced a cough, looking away.
âWhatâs that balm made of? Itâs cool,â you asked, changing the subject.
âDapophet and spice bell, mixed with the nectar of a hatchet bee,â he told you, still smiling softly. âWe need to be somewhere safe before it darkens.â He easily gathered you into his arms again.
He walked and you looked around, taking in the unfamiliar forest. âDo you know these woods?â you asked.
âNot much, but I saw a falls over there. Thatâs where I was planning to jump to escape the palulukan,â he said.
You remembered his calm demeanor earlier, the absence of panic. He had a plan. He wasnât even fazed by having killed a palulukan, as though it were a small achievement among many. He found a small grotto near the falls, a hidden alcove veiled by hanging vines. He gently placed you down on a soft, mossy stone bed.
âIâll go get more herbs and food,â he said, leaving his satchel beside you.
When he returned, he already has a string of iridescent fish, a bundle of fresh herbs, and an armload of wood for fire.
âIâll help you start it,â you said, carefully trying to slide off the stone bed. But he intercepted you, his hands firm on your waist, settling you back down. You almost hissed at him, but bit back. âIn my clan, I am a priestess of fire,â you told him in a biting tone.
He smiled, a genuine, easy smile. âRelax, spitfire, I believe you.â He smirked. âBut I have to wrap your ankle with poultice. Weâll start the fire later.â
You pushed your lips forward, watching him work. He crushed the herbs with a smooth stone, his movements precise and practiced. You thought of your clan, how no man, not even most of the women, knew anything about tending to injuries. They left the weak to die. And here was this man, a fearsome warrior, yet so gentle, and knowledgeable in the matters of healing. No one had ever cared for you so tenderly and you felt something tug at your heart. No one had ever let you be the weak one.
He meticulously wrapped your ankle with a woven fabric, securing the poultice in place. Then, he helped you down. âNow we can start the fire,â he said, scaling the fish with practiced ease.
You struck a spark, coaxing a flame from the dry tinder. He watched, fascinated, as the fire caught, growing quickly under your ministrations. âHow did you do that?â he asked, genuine wonder in his voice.
âWe worship the fire,â you said, your tone clipped, a hint of pride in your voice. âWe call to it as you call to your Eywa.â
He stared at you, his expression thoughtful and then he nodded. âI understand.â he said with no hint of prejudice and judgment that you held his gaze for a long moment, a strange warmth spreading through you.
You ate the roasted fish together, the silence comfortable, punctuated only by the crackle of the fire and the murmur of the waterfall outside your grotto.
When it was time to sleep, he sat on the ground, sharpening his arrows on a smooth stone, despite the ample space on the stone bed beside you. âDonât you want to lie beside me?â you asked, your voice softer than you intended. His head snapped up, his eyes wide as they met yours.
âI want to, of course,â he answered quickly, like a yerik being offered food. âI mean, if you want me to⊠thenâŠâ he stammered, so unlike the fierce warrior in the battlefield.
You raised a brow, stifling a laugh at his unexpected decency. âWell, I feel sorry that you have to sleep on the cold ground⊠when thereâs plenty of space beside me⊠here, on the mossy bed.â You yawned, stretching as you turned to your side, your tail moving lasciviously.
He stifled a smile, his eyes watching your tail. You watched him stand, biting your lip, a small, private smile blooming on your face as he lay down beside you, filling your back with warmth. You fell asleep so quick it was almost record-breaking and when you woke up, sunlight is already filtering through the vines that serve as a curtain for your grotto. You were cuddled to Neteyam, his arm wrapped around you and your cheek pillowed on his chest.
You were so surprised that you jolted awake, moving back faster than you could think. Neteyamâs eyes flew opened, panic already flashing in them watching you fall off the stone bed. His arm shot up immediately though, catching you mid-fall and pulling you back to him.
âShit,â he breathed and you frowned at the foreign word. âEywa, sheâs a little disaster.â
Your frown deepened. âI was surprised! I didnât allow you to hug me!â you pushed him away.
He chuckled, sitting up and gently grabbing your leg, youâd kick his hand away if only it wasnât your injured foot that he was cradling. âIâll unwrap it, letâs check how your foot is doing,â he said, his voice still thick with sleep.
Youâd retort with something smart but you were distracted with his gravelly deep voice, ended up just watching him unwrap it. There was a vibrant bruise of purple and green, but the swelling was already receding. You tried to rotate it but there was still pain, making you wince.
âStop straining yourself,â he groaned, fixing you with his best stern look, but when you didnât hiss or bite back, his finger lifted to boop your nose. âWeâll rewrap your sprain with poultice and Iâll get us some food,â he said, already moving as if heâs being timed.
Days bled into one another and surprisingly, you were never bored except when youâre alone because heâs out to hunt. One afternoon, he came back with a variety of fruits, some of them you never even knew existed. The sight of them alone excited you, but when he presented a small, intricately woven cord, your attention was snagged immediately. You felt like a kid being presented with many, many gifts. Dangling from it, polished to a dull sheen, were several palulukan teeth.
âThis is beautiful,â you said, peering up at him, âI like it.â
He tilted his head, smiling. âItâs yours.â He parted both ends of the woven cords and you leaned forward to offer your neck.
You touched the centerpiece. A fang, much longer and more curved than the others that surround it. Your eyes caught the leaf that cradled more palulukan teeth and your hand reached for it. âCan I have this?â you asked, your voice softer than you intended.
He nodded, his finger brushing the fang sitting on your sternum. âSure. I have nothing to do with it anyway.â
You raised a brow, a flicker of amusement dancing in your eyes. âHow about bringing it back to your clan as proof of your might?â Even among the Mangkwan, felling a palulukan was a feat. Such a kill warranted celebration, proof of a warriorâs prowess.
He blinked, genuinely perplexed. âWhy would I need proof?â
You pushed your lips forward. Of course. The warrior who dismantles entire armed outposts with only his bow and arrows required no tangible evidence of his strength. You simply shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips.
Mornings often found you curled against his side, just like your first morning together. In your defense, the chill of the forest is not to be underestimated. Whenever you cuddled closer, he would stir, a low hum in his chest, and without a word, his arm would wrap around you, pulling you deeper into his warmth. A quiet triumph blooms in his chest each time you woke entangled, your body not recoiling, no sharp hiss escaping your lips. One time, you even snuggled closer into him even when you're already awake.
By the fire at night, you spoke of nothing else but your own people. He spoke of his family, his voice soft with affection as he told you stories about his siblings, while you listened, painting mental pictures of what they might look like.
âHow old is your brother Loâak?â you asked again, thinking you missed a part because he mentioned a little sister around Kekihe's age.
His eyes snapped at you. âHe's mated,â he answered.
You frowned. âAnd? Thatâs not what I asked,â you rolled you eyes, biting into a juicy fruit.
âHeâs a year younger... But mated already,â he said as if he really needed to add that fact. âHe beat me to it.â he added smoothly.
You raised a brow, both understanding and not understanding what heâs trying to say. Yes, he is unmated, but you donât know how that is any of your business.
âYou hunt on your own?â he asked, his fingers absently weaving through your hair. The question came after you mentioned your various solo journeys before this one.
âEveryone in my clan must sustain themselves on their own. Most of them hunt only for themselves,â you told him.
He tilted his head. âWhat of the old and the young? Who feeds them?â
âThe young depend on their parents,â you replied. You remembered scrambling for scraps, foraging for berries in the ashen woods an hourâs walk from the village when you were young. No one hunted for you so you learned to hunt young.
âWhat about orphaned children? Surely, there are some of them, with how frequently adults in your clan dieâŠâ His voice held a gentle probe, a curiosity that bordered on concern.
You pushed your lips forward, in awe of how he hit the nail right on the head. When you were young, you couldn't understand the fact that adults could watch you starve and do nothing... And here he is, perhaps years late, thinking about children like you were.
You sighed. âThey either get adopted or die⊠I have one, her nameâs Kekihe.â A soft smile touched your lips at the memory of the bright-eyed child.
âYou have an adopted child?â he asked, his voice laced with an almost boyish curiosity.
âNot adopted, not really⊠I live with her and her grandmother, SĂ€yim,â you clarified. They are your family now. Their presence is a balm in your hard existence.
He nodded, a thoughtful expression settling on his face. âAnd now, you cannot hunt because of your foot,â he mused, a flicker of worry in his eyes. âI will hunt for you. You canât go home to them with nothing.â He said, determined.
While heâs out hunting every day, you worked on weaving a choker for him. You used your red dye, stringing small, polished beads onto a fine sinew. The palulukan fang, black and sharp, is its centerpiece. The days continued to melt, and with each passing one, your ankle gained strength. A dull ache with every step remained but the sharp pain had receded. One afternoon, after you were finally done with the choker you were creating, you let the pull of the water outside your grotto win you over.
You were on the upstream of the waterfall, surrounded by large rocks before the actual fall and you felt relief that yiu were not tempted to jump over. You shed your top and loincloth, the cool water making you shiver as you submerge yourself further in the icy water. You floated on your back, watching the sky filtered by the canopy aboveÂ
Neteyam arrived then, a huge yerik slung effortlessly over his shoulder. You maneuvered to stand, the water swirling around your hips, looking up at him. âMy foot doesnât hurt that much anymore,â you told him and you were surprised at how sad you sounded. âThe waterâs cold and it helps.â
He nodded, his gaze sweeping over you, and you felt a strange triumph when you see the subtle downturn of his lips, mirroring your sadness. He lowered the yerik to the ground, its bulk settling with a soft thud. Your eyes followed him as he walked towards the stream, his movements fluid. He untied his loincloth, the simple act sending a jolt through you. Your breath hitched, watching the fabric fall away, revealing his cock, already hard and thick.
He submerged himself, the water rippling around him, and swam under the surface, emerging a few feet away. A sly smile curved your lips as you moved towards him. His eyes, dark and dangerous, watched your every move. You scooped water onto your hand, casually reaching for his shoulder to wash away the remnants of blood from his hunt. You caressed the scar youâd given him, your fingers tracing the raised skin before leaning in, pressing your lips to it. A deep rumble escaped his chest and you smiled, your own desire mirrors the heat in his eyes as you continued to wash the blood from his arms, appreciating the taut lines of his form.
âDid you wander far? Where did you catch the yerik?â you asked, your voice a low murmur.
His hands found the curve of your waist, settling there, his grip firm. âNot that far. It was alone near the river where I fish,â he answered, his voice a low growl.
You peered up at him, finding his eyes dilated, fixed on your face. âIt was huge.â One of your hands drifted down to his abdomen, tracing the hard planes of his muscles, your gaze never leaving his.
You rose onto your tiptoes, and he eagerly lowered his head, meeting your lips. He groaned as your mouths finally met, his hand cupping your jaw, tilting your head back to plunder your lips, demanding and possessive. Your hands caressed up, hooking your forearms around his nape. One of his hands slid up, kneading your breast, as his lips traced a path down your jaw, along your neck, and onto your shoulder. You cradled his head, your own head thrown back as he kissed your scarification bumps reverently.
His other hand scooped you by the ass and you wrapped your legs around his waist, your hips instinctively arching. He laid you down on a smooth, moss-covered rock by the stream, the cool stone a contrast to the heat of his body. He loomed over you, kissing your lips again before his mouth trailed down your neck, across your shoulder, over your chest, and finally to your belly, his lips pressing soft kisses to each scarification. You spread your legs wider, a silent invitation as he made his intent clear, he kissed the long scar on your thugh tenderly before his mouth found your pussy.
Your breath hitched and your hips bucked involuntarily, grabbing a handful of his braids, pushing him down further, gaining a deep groan from him. He kissed and licked, a relentless assault on your softness, until you were writhing, stimulated to the brink. He rose then, your body trembling as you weakly watch him, one hand grabbing your breast, squeezing.
He watched you, his eyes dark with raw desire, propping a hand on the rock beside you. He kissed you softly, a tender brush of lips, before pressing his forehead against yours. âDo you want me, my fire?â he asked, his voice low and thick with arousal.
You moaned, a soft sound in his ears. âYesâŠâ
He pressed a hard kiss against your lips, then gently took your hand, guiding it to his cock. âPut me in you thenâŠâ
You whined, a frustrated sound, lifting your head to kiss him, but he pulled back an inch, evading your lips. You groaned, glaring at him as you circled your fingers around his thick cock, the smooth, hot skin making you moan. You spread your thighs wider, lifting your hips slightly, your hand moving up and down his length in a slow caress.
He watched you, biting his lip, a raw, animalistic expression. You breathed shakily, guiding the wide head of his cock into your softness, whining as you move your hips, swallowing him slowly, inch by agonizing inch. He claimed your lips, kissing you deep and hungry, his tongue tangling with yours. Your scream was muffled by his kisses as he plunged the rest of his length into you in one swift, desperate motion, holding your hips in place. You clutched at his shoulders, your fingers digging into his flesh, your other hand leaving angry red scratches on his back. Like the first time, a sharp ache blossomed, but it was quickly overridden by a profound, delicious stretch.
âHurt?â he asked, his tongue tracing the curve of your lip.
âNo. So goodâŠâ you mumbled, kissing him again, losing yourself in the sensation.
You made love, there by the stream, and when he carried you back to your grotto, he didnât let go of you. Later, as you lay tangled on the stone bed, the cool air caressing your heated skin, you felt him kiss your hair, inhaling your scent, a deep, contented sigh rumbling in his chest. You nuzzled deeper into his neck, the scent of him filling your senses.
âI made something for you,â you mumbled, your hand idly caressing his chest.
He kissed your temple. âYeah?â He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours.
You smiled softly, and his heart lurched, a warmth spreading through his chest as if you were the very source of fire, a true fire priestess. He couldnât resist, his lips finding yours again. You chuckled, untangling yourself to reach for the choker youâd made.
âI only have red dye with me⊠so the beads are red,â you said, lifting the choker into the air, a small frown on your face. âSorry.â
He sat up, his large hands covering yours as he touched the choker. âDo not say sorry,â he said, his voice firm, his eyes reprimanding you. âThis is beautiful, baby.â His fingers traced the smooth black fang centerpiece. âRed is beautiful.â
âIt is the color of MangkwanâŠâ you pointed out, as if that alone were reason enough for him to dislike it.
âIt is your color,â he corrected, his earnest eyes fixed on yours. He remembered the fierce beauty that had captivated him years ago, the first time he ever saw you in an ambush of a Mangkwan raid. Truthfully, heâd sabotaged the Mangkwan raids that followed that just to see you again. He hadnât, until months ago, when youâd wounded him, leaving him with a scar that he now wore with pride.
He removed the choker he was already wearing before leaning in toward you. You understood, kneeling to reach behind him to tie the choker around his nape. His hands settled on your waist, and his lips found your chest, pressing a kiss to your scarifications. You sat back on your heels, your fingers touching the beads at his neck.
He stared at you, his eyes soulful. âWe will see each other again,â he said, his voice low.
You gave him a haughty look, a playful glint in your eyes. âThat sounds more like an order than an entreaty.â
His eyes widened, humor dancing in their depths. âWell, baby, I am not above begging.â He took your hands, his earnest gaze locking with yours. âI beg of you, my fire, say you will see me again and save this warrior from his misery of constantly missing youâŠâ He brought your hand to his chest, pressing it over his beating heart.
A sly smile cut through your lips. You pushed gently against his chest. Youâd thought about it countless times in the past days, the desire to see him again, the quiet hope that he would want the same. âYouâre being dramatic,â you rolled your eyes. âI will see you.â
He smiled then, a triumphant flash, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to your palm. âAlways so merciful.â
âWill we see each other here?â you asked, slowly lying back down on the stone bed.
He watched you, his eyes darkening, his hand pressing against your lower abdomen, a slow caress. âIâd go to you, my fire, if you wish.â
You rolled your eyes again. âSure, if you can make it to Bridgehead,â you smirked, raising your hands above your head, your round breasts offered to his gaze.
His eyes darted down, his hand travelling up, covering one of your breasts, massaging gently. âIs that a challenge, baby?â he asked cockily.
You turned serious, the playful facade dropping. âDonât even try, Sully. You would never step in a place where every single person wants your head.â Your teeth gritted, the warning sharp.
He tilted his head, a thoughtful hum escaping him. âSomeone doesnât want me to die,â he mused, pinching your nipple, a jolt of pleasure making you moan.
You kicked him lightly with your uninjured foot. âYou just said you want to meet me again. What else will we do but fuck? Who will fuck me if youâre dead?â
He laughed then, a boisterous, manly sound that filled the grotto. His smile, deceptively handsome and lopsided, held a glint of mischief as he looked at you. âOnly I get to make you feel like this, baby. Only me.â His hand clamped around your inner thigh, spreading your legs apart.
You raised a brow, watching him rise onto his knees, positioning himself between your spread legs. He lowered himself, his mouth claiming yours in a hard, demanding kiss. You closed your eyes, your arms wrapping around his nape, pulling him down to you.
Having to leave that little pocket of forest you two carved out as your own held a surprising reluctance in you. You felt like you didnât want to leave, but your foot, though still a little tender when you give it your full weight, was mostly healed. Besides, SĂ€yim is definitely worrying. He watched you with silent intensity as you lathered your skin with ash, then applied the black and red paints to your face and forearm, transforming yourself back into the Mangkwan you are. To an outsider, his devotion would be glaringly obvious. Heâs a man completely ensnared. Yet, you still thought him foolish for being here, being with you.
You looked at up at him when he leaned forward, dipping his thumb into your red dye, then, with a careful touch, painted the horizontal line from beneath your nose, down to your lips and chin, as if telling you he knew exactly what your signature face paint looked like. When youâre ready, he helped you tie the yerik heâd caught onto your ikran, adding many fruits and strings of fresh fish with it. One would think you were sent out to get food for a whole village.
âThat is a lot,â you said, patting your ikranâs head.
âYou can do what you wish with it,â he said, pulling you close by the waist and inhaling your scent, making you feel conscious about the ash but he didnât seem to care at all. âI want to give you everything you need.â
You peered up at him, your eyes glinting with promise that youâll return the favor... someway else. Varang, the Mangkwan, and the RDA, they all seemed distant, fading in the background. You had never felt this way before, this intoxicating mix of joy and warmth. You had never truly rebelled, not like this, and for the first time in your life, you wanted to chase this feeling Neteyam ignited within you. For once, you wanted to choose yourself.
You flew back to Bridgehead, your heart still alight with joy, a warmth that had settled deep within. But the warmth quickly dissipated, replaced by a cold dread, when you heard Vakrepâs voice behind you as you were discharging the yerik from your ikranâs back, the heavy carcass thudding to the ground.
âWhere were you?â he asked, his voice a low sneer.
You snapped a sharp glance at him, your eyes narrowed. âHunting. What is it to you?â
His eyes, creepy and always invasive, swept over your body. âYou killed a palulukan?â he asked, a curious glint in his gaze as he noticed the necklace around your neck.
âAgain, what is it to you?â you retorted, dragging the yerik further, then lifting the strings of fruit.
He stepped forward, closing the distance. âIt is my business to know where you are going. One day, Varang will give you to me,â he said, his fangs on display, a predatory smile stretching his lips. âSo you better watch your actions⊠and keep yourself untainted. For me.â
You winced, a visceral wave of disgust washing over you. You hissed, a low, guttural sound. âI would kill you before that happens.â
He snickered, a harsh, grating sound. âIâd like to see you try, but you have no choice. You know that. You are a strong warrior, as am I⊠Varang will ensure the future of the Mangkwan through us.â
You gritted your teeth, watching him turn and retreat.
Meanwhile, at the Omatikaya hometree, Neteyam was enveloped in his motherâs embrace. He had been gone for weeks, but her initial worry, softened into relief as she scanned his uninjured form. Her eyes, however, caught on the choker at his neck.
âPalulukan⊠you killed a palulukan?â A smile of fierce pride broke across her face. âWhere?â
âWestern rainforest⊠it chased me,â he said, a flicker of a smile playing on his lips, and for a moment, Neytiri was reminded of the boy he once was.
âRed beads? Beautiful⊠It is a strong color,â she mused, her fingers tracing the beads. âIt suits you, son.â
Neteyam looked at his mother, his eyes alight with an emotion that surprised even Neytiri. âDoes it?â he asked, his voice soft, almost vulnerable.
She chuckled, her hand reaching up to rest on his head, a gesture of affection despite his towering height. âIt does.â
The happiness radiating from him, a palpable aura, did not escape Neytiri. Nor did the sight of his thumb, faintly reddened with dye. She watched her son move through the winding ramps of Hometree, a lightness in his steps, as though he floated on air, buoyed by an invisible joy.
The forest, just as it stood witness to thousands of Neteyamâs ancestors, seems to hold the secret of your clandestine meetings, too; hearing the sounds of shared laughter that mingles with the whisper of the waterfall, saw how the mask of the perfect son slips from Neteyamâs face, replaced by vulnerability he only ever allowed you to see. It was a stark contrast to the one he shows when you two were in a spar though. He is a competent fighter and youâve known that in the two times you faced him in a ground combat, but you had a hunch that heâs holding back which you take as insult.
âMawey, baby. This is just a game,â he said, sidestepping you, his hand catching your wrist with ease.
âScared?â you shot back, twisting out of his grip, a kick sent at his side, but he blocked it, a surprised grunt escaping him.
âFuck, you kick like a direhorse,â he said, chuckling as he flicked his hand to shake off the faint pain that blocking your kick brought. You circled him, eyes narrowed, a predatory glint in their depths. âRespectfully.â he added with a boyish smile.
You raised a brow. âDonât hold back on me, Sully,â you said, smirking.
He tilted his head and you could tell heâs accepted your challenge because you felt the full force of his strength. He was faster, stronger, and his reach longer but you were able to find gaps. You were smaller, sure, but you were more agile and ferocious, your skills honed by countless unrestrained fights.
âYou fight as if you want to kill me,â he said after the spar, pinning you against a tree, his chest heaving, a sheen of sweat on it. Your own chest rose and fell rapidly, your eyes locked with his as your lips curved into a smirk. He groaned, cupping your chin and tilting your head up to kiss you hard.
You hummed against his lips, kissing him back. âWhat if I am?â you mumured against his lips before giving him consecutive pecks.
He laughed, a genuine, booming sound that echoed through the trees, angling his head to kiss you softly. âWill die happily, baby,â he whispered, kissing you again, this time, deeper.
You allowed yourself to melt into his kiss, hooking your arms around his nape at the same time his large hands spanned your waist, both your hearts beating against your ribcages in sync, both seeking release and desiring to tangle around each other, just as you two later were. As your meetings continued and occured as frequently, Neteyamâs absences did not go unnoticed by his clan. In the great communal space of Hometree, the elders and warriors often glanced at the empty place beside Jake Sully. Jake, who had already had a hunch about what Neteyam is doing, remained silent.
The clan had pushed his son to mate, to choose a woman from among them the moment heâd come to adulthood, but Jake had never seen Neteyam show interest in any Omatikaya woman, but these frequent disappearances and slipping back into Hometree late into the night, with that stupid smile on and a lightness in his steps, Jake could only assume.
He shook his head to himself, his lips curling in a private smile. Let the boy find his own path. For this, he often covered for his eldest son, a silent acknowledgement of how Neteyam, who had carried most of the clanâs burdens against their enemies for years, deserves this, more than ever.
âI sent him on patrol,â Jake would state, his voice carrying an authority no one dared question.
One night, Neteyam returned late from a meeting with you, having been away for over a day. He stepped into the Hometree just as the council meeting was concluding.
âYou are not in attendance again!â Neytiriâs voice was sharp with concern and annoyance as she reprimanded her son. Her eyes held a steely glint. âYour father covered for you, but this cannot continue.â
Neteyam stood straighter. He had just parted ways with you, your scent still lingering on his skin, the memory of your laugh a warm ember in his chest. His head bowed a little, offering no argument. âMy apologies, Mother. It will not happen again.â
âYou are late for the council meeting! Late for your duties! What is so important that it pulls you from your responsibilities?â she continued and Jake could almost imagine her breathing fire.
Neteyamâs head remained bowed and Jake knew his son wonât talk back, unless heâs in a position that allows him to defend himself. Jake, taking initiative, put both his hands on his mateâs shoulders, gently pulling her back.
âMawey, baby, mawey. Give the boy some slack, heâs always working hard,â he nod his head toward his son before pressing on Neytiriâs shoulders. âHe is still just a young man.â
Neytiriâs shoulders slumped, realizing that Jake is saying nothing but the truth. No one works harder than Neteyam, and it made her feel guily that sheâs expecting so much from him. âIâm sorry, son. You may go and rest now.â she said, reaching up to put a palm over her sonâs head.
Neteyam nodded, excusing himself to both of them and walking away. Jake watched his son, seeing the faint smile that touched his lips. The heavy burden Neteyam carried for this clan seemed to lift from his shoulders when he returned from these secret rendezvous. Jake once again smiled to himself, a silent understanding passing between father and son.
You dodged Neteyamâs weapon, spinning as you bring your own twin-bladed staff around in a wide arc. He blocked, his blade thudding against yours. You pressed the advantage, sending a flurry of strikes, each aimed at each opening you can see. He parried, his brow furrowed in concentration, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
âToo slow, Sully,â you hissed, feinting left, then dropping low, sweeping your staff at his legs. He hopped, a grunt escaping him, but you were already up, disarming him with a swift flick of your wrist. His knife fell to the ground. You pressed the tip of your own to his throat.
He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. âAlways a cheat, my fire.â He didnât move, eyes glinting with admiration.
âAlways a fool for falling for it,â you countered, pulling your staff back. You offered him his weapon.
He took it, his fingers brushing yours, his fingers lingering. âYou make it too easy to be a fool.â
You narrowed your eyes. âIâm starting to think I only managed to wound you because you allowed me.â
A smirk appeared on his handsome face. âI didnât, but I was definitely distracted.â
You explored the forest, with him pointing out plants, describing their properties, their uses in medicine or sustenance, and you find it funny that he knows so much.
âThis one, its sap can soothe burns,â he explained, his finger tracing the broad petal of a healing rose. âAnd this, its berries, when crushed, make a potent pain reliever.â
âAre you sure youâre not your peopleâs tsakarem?â you asked, chuckling.
He grinned. âMy grandmother knows a lot about healing. Healers, under her supervision, teach the kids the basics. Just in case a situation calls for it,â he said.
You tilted your head, remembering what an expert he was at tending to your injured ankle, seemingly knowing exactly what to do. You smiled, thinking of a people making it a norm to teach the children how to care for one another.
You held his weapon, examining its weight and its design. Youâve never seen a weapon like it before. The handle was beautiful, fashioned after the sloping head of a direhorse. You adjusted your grip around it, remembering how he held it in a perpendicular angle, his hand fisting around the hilt. A short, pointed blade jut forward, itâs the blade he used to puncture that sky personâs metal suit by delivering punches.
On the other side, a longer blade extended down, covering your forearm. This is what he used to wound your fellow Mangkwan with a twist of his hand, slashing at the chest. It has dual blades, customized especially for him, and extremely deadly. âThis is a beautiful weapon,â you commented.
He smirked. âIt was my Uncle Tsuâteyâs. He was the Oloâeyktan before my father... He fought with my parents in the battle of the Ayram Alusing.â
You smiled at the thought. Every battle heâs fighting is guided with the weapon of an Oloâeyktan and warrior who fought for their people. You wondered about your parents. Mangkwan warriors like yourself... who both died before you could even remember them.
You leaned against a tree, your top askewed and your breathing ragged as streaks of white marred your vision from the mind-blowing orgasm he just gave you. You felt his mouth on one of your nipples and your fingers tightened around his cock. âShit...â
He chuckled at the word you used, sending delicious vibrations on your breast as he sucked on it, his fingers caressing your still-sensitive pussy. Your hand trembled as it continued moving up and down his length and when his lips traced up, you lowered your head to catch his lips and kissed him. You can feel him smiling against your kiss and you reared your head back to look at him.
You bit your lip before dipping your head to press an open-mouthed kiss on his neck, gaining a breathy chuckle from him. A renewed flame burned within you as your lips traced a path down his chest and to his abdomen, your hand still pumping his cock. You peered up at him, meeting his eyes as your lips hovered near his hard length. He raised a brow, his eyes dilated and hot on you.
âI want to kiss you here...â you whispered and you felt him physically tremble as his hand grabbed you shoulder firmly.
Many moons unfolded this way. The days you met were punctuated by him teaching you how to hunt better in the forest, by both of you challenging and pushing at each otheâs limits in combat, and by that one activity inside your grotto that you unanimously decided was best for leaving the two of you breathless. It was clear to him where this is going, he knew the odds he needed to beat to get there, and his body was already vibrating with energy when he thinks about what he is capable of doing, for you.
You, on the other hand, found yourself more and more learned about the nuances of his smile, the way his eyes crinkled when genuinely happy or amused. Unaware, you mirror his gesturesâa hand on his arm, a soft brush of your shoulder against his, and your fingers always finding his skin. The sound of his laughter seemed to have carved itself in your heart, reminding you of warmth when youâre back at the concrete and metallic labyrinth that was Bridgehead where a different kind of tension has settled over your people.
The children had been sick. It doesnât take one to be so smart to conclude that the nearest river that had been the Mangkwanâs source of water had been polluted with the RDAâs hazards. The last time you went there to collect water, you observed its waters shimmering with an unnatural sheen. You are still Varangâs unofficial tsakarem, having been taught about the various toxins and hallucinogens, but the very little you know about actual healing, you learned from Neteyam.
He knows the basic benefits of each flora you see in the forest and heâs helped you gather herbs for the sick when you told him what has been going on. If only the situation wasnât so dire, you would find it comical how quickly he acted when you asked, as if it wasnât in his mind that it was the Mangkwan you were talking about.
You moved between the sick in a makeshift infirmary made of whatever fabrics the Mangkwan has gotten from previous raidings. The children, usually so vibrant, lay listless with eyes glazed and breaths shallow.
âHis fever burns all day long,â a mother pleaded, her child writhing on a mat.
You pressed a cool, damp cloth to the childâs forehead, offering a sip of boiled water mixed with crushed bark. âKeep him warm. He needs rest.â You showed her how to mix the herbs, how to make the poultice. You taught the other women, too, their faces grim at first but then began to help, their hands clumsy but willing.
The river, Varang had declared, was merely a form of cleansing when she graced the makeshift infirmary with her presence. âNo, this is not natural. The river is contaminated, Oloâeykteââ
âIt is weakness,â she told you, her head snapping at the growing number of sick wth disdain. âHere... Only the strong survive.â
âThey are children, Oloâeykte. Some are women. They are the future of our clanââ
âI do not wish for the future of this clan to be on the shoulders of children who fall sick over river water,â she said. âMy people have endured worst.â
You kept your mouth clamped then, nodding, knowing that you cannot change her mind. She saw the plague not as a threat, but as a culling, a way to purge the clan of its lesser members. But you saw the fear in the eyes of the mothers, the desperation of the fathers, in the childrenâs small bodies being wracked with sickness.
Each of your hunt became even more desperate. You distributed food among the sick, among the families whose hunters were too weak to stalk game. But it was never enough. The sickness continued to spread, some children had died and though deep ache tug at your heart at the sound of their mothers wailing, you stayed behind to offer whatever comfort you could give.
You were walking with the bowl of fresh herbs you gathered in the nearest forest when you saw young raiders running to the roost. You grabbed one by the arm and saw him visibly catch his breath. âAre you raiding?â
âVakrep is leading us to Zeswa. Said we need their medicineââ
âYou are raiding the Zeswa?â you asked in a hard tone, and when he nodded, you let go of his arm and rushed to the infirmary.
You set the bowl down and quickly instructed the women on what to do before making your own way to the roost. You felt ashamed at what youâre feeling, the urgency to stop them from doing what you have done, and even led, for years. Were you as beyond saving as Vakrep? Have you done so much evil already that it voids your right to call out the wrongdoing of your own people?
You launched your ikran into the sky, the wind whipping at your face as you flew over quickly changjng landscape until you reached the clouded forest, seeing the Mangkwan raid party right away despite the thick fog. You dove without thinking, intending to intercept and to reason.
But then there were others there, too. Omatikaya warriors had gotten here faster than you did. You jumped off your ikran before it even fully landed on the ground but an arrow flew, and you felt a searing pain in your calf, a gasp tearing from your throat. You staggered, almost landing hard on the nearest tree, the breath knocked from your lungs.
âNo!â a familiar voice bellowed. Neteyam.
A dark shape moved over you. Not Neteyam, but Vakrep, scooping you up in his arms, pulling you away from the chaos.
âMy leg!â you hissed, struggling against him, but the pain flared.
You heard the clash of weapons fading behind you as he carried you to where the ikran are waiting, slumping you on the back of his ikran before launching into the sky. Back in Bridgehead, the outrage simmered. Warriors, their faces grim, gathered before Varangâs yurt. Their families, gaunt and trembling, stood behind them.
âOur children are dying, Oloâeykte!â a warrior cried, his voice raw with grief. âThe sky people poison our waters! What will we do? What will you do?â
Varang emerged, her eyes already cold. âYou whine like pups. This is much like the fire that burned our people years ago... Nothing can stop it, but only the strong endure.â
âThe strong die in their sleep from fever!â another shouted. âTheir bodies swell! This is not like the fire that burned our people, this is the sky peopleâs poison!â
She waved a dismissive hand. âWeakness. Your bodies are simply not fit for this land. It is your own failings, and if this weakness among you continues, I will have to deal with all of you.â
A collective silence. The warriors exchanged glances. The respect, once absolute is now flattering, replaced by resentment. You watched from the edge of the crowd, your bandaged leg aching. This was not the Varang you had known, the fierce leader who commanded loyalty. This was a tyrant, blinded by her own twisted belief.
A day later, you walked toward your grotto despite the ache in your leg. Your pride simply cannot take the limping. Neteyam was already there, restless as he paced the clearing, but the moment his eyes landed on you, he ran, pulling you into a crushing embrace. His breath hitched against your hair, ragged.
âFuck, Iâm so sorry, baby,â his voice thick with stress, with anger. He lowered himself, his large hand gently touching the wrapped wound on your leg.
âDo not worry,â you murmured, squeezing his arm and pulling him up. âThat was just a near-miss. Itâs nothing I canât handle.â
He rose, his eyes blazing, a raw anguish on his face. âStop saying that.â His voice was a low growl. âStop saying you can handle everything, especially when Iâm here. Iâm here for you. You should have told me what you needed, what your people needed, and I would have handled it.â
You smirked, but it was a genuine curve of your lips. You cupped his jaw, your thumb tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone, then rose on your toes to kiss him softly. âI know,â you murmured against his lips. âI know.â
He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment, then opening to devour you. His hand found the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. He lifted you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist, and carried you into the grotto, laying you gently on the soft stone bed.
He moved over you, his body a familiar weight, a comforting pressure. His lips found yours, a deep, hungry kiss that stole your breath, erasing the pain, the anger, the fear. You surrendered, as you always did with him, your body yielding to his, trusting him implicitly. He stripped away your loincloth, his eyes dark with desire, tracing the lines of your body with reverent hands. His mouth followed, a trail of fire from your lips, down your neck, across your shoulders, lingering on the scarifications etched into your skin. You arched into him, your hips rising to meet his, a low moan escaping your throat.
His fingers danced between your thighs, teasing, swirling, until you were slick and ready, your core aching for him. He entered you slowly, a deep, satisfying stretch that made you gasp, then moan as you wrapped around him, pulling him deeper still. He moved, driving into you, his hips pounding against yours, and you met him, thrust for thrust. You felt his control slipping, and you held him tighter, meeting his thrusts until he cried out your name, his body shuddering against yours as he spilled himself into you.
You lay tangled, the warmth of his body a shield against the cool air of the grotto. Your fingers traced the lines of his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.
âWhat causes the sickness?â he asked, his voice a low rumble against your hair.
You sighed, your suppressed anger bubbling to the surface. âThe sky people. Their waste poisons our waters.â You paused, then continued, the words tumbling out, raw and bitter. âVarang won't believe us. She calls it weakness. She says they are a drain, that they will only drag the clan down.â Your voice cracked, a tremor running through you. âShe has dictated my life. My whole life. She sent me to my death, sending me to you.â
He pulled you closer, his lips pressing against your forehead. âI couldnât have killed you, baby.â
âYou were so stupid,â you whispered, a soft laugh escaping you. âIf it had been a different Mangkwan, you would have been dead.â
âIf it had been a different Mangkwan, I wouldnât have been there with her,â he said, his voice firm. âI wouldnât even come up to her.â
âYou say that now...â
âIâm saying it because it is the truth. I told you I know you, didnât I? It was an easy conquer because I have wanted you for so long.â he said, his voice raw.
You stifled a smile, propping yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him. âIs that what happens when anyone wounds you? Then I am the only one allowed to wound you.â Your eyes darkened, a possessive glint in them.
âIt wasnât because you wounded me,â he said, his voice a little resigned. âIt was⊠years ago.â
Your forehead furrowed. âThat was a long time ago.â
âYeah.â He croaked, as if heâs accepting the fact that heâs been devoted for years, even without any assurance. And then he remembered... âWho was that man? The one who⊠carried you away?â
You blinked, confused for a moment. âVakrep.â
âWho is he to you?â he asked, his voice tight.
âHe is a nuisance,â you said in a biting tone.
âHe likes you.â
A wave of disgust washed over you. âHe does not. He is fucked in the head, as you say. He doesnât like. He thinks he owns everyone.â
âAnd does he think he owns you?â
Your eyes darkened further. âI donât care what he thinks. Do not worry yourself about him.â You pressed your palm against his chest, a silent reassurance. âI am here with you, Neteyam.â
He caught your hand, holding it, bringing your fingers to his lips, kissing them softly. His eyes searched yours, and your heart ache when you saw the silent question and desperate plea for something in them.
At Bridgehead, the whispers grew louder. The Mangkwan, once united under Varangâs cruel rule, now questioned. You sat beside Kirenâs child, applying a fresh poultice to his swollen glands. Kiren, a seasoned warrior, sat beside you, his face etched with worry.
âOur people sicken,â Kiren said, his voice low, almost a whisper. âVarang turns her back, just as Eywa had. She sees only weakness.â He looked at you, his eyes holding a fierce, desperate hope. âYou heal them. You hunt for them. Many warriors⊠they follow you. Would you lead us, warrior? Against her?â
You looked at the child, then at Kiren. A new life. A better life for Kekihe, for SĂ€yim, for all of them. The thought sparked, a tiny flame in the darkness. âI... I will think on it,â you said, your voice trembling. âI will get back to you.â
But you never got the chance.
The next morning, a guttural scream, filled with horror, tore through the camp. You ran outside, your heart seizing in your chest. Kiren. His body, mangled, twisted, tied to a post. As they would an animal regularly tortured during rituals. His face, frozen in terror.
Your peopleâs faces were impassive, blank masks. None showed what they truly felt, save for Kirenâs mate, who knelt in front of his body, her wails tearing through air. Some, you noticed with a sickening lurch, even celebrated, their smiles cruel. Across from you, Vakrep stood, a smug smile on his face. He bowed his head, his eyes meeting yours, as if he knows that you know why Kiren is dead.
A hush fell over the crowd and you saw Varang, strutting into the circle, her head held high. Her eyes, predatory and sickeningly filled with pleasure, swept over Kirenâs broken form.
âLet Kiren serve as a cautionary tale among you, my beloved people.â Her voice was gentle, silken with lie, yet her smile was evil. âDo any of you know what he did to deserve this?â She paused, letting the silence stretch. âHe was treasonous. He was planning to oust me. Would you like that? Would you like the leader that rose above Eywaâs misdeeds against us and built this clan from the ashes it was reduced to, to be cast out?â
The crowd shook their heads, the face of subservience. No one was brave enough to challenge her, not now, not after this.
âI thought so, too.â Her smile widened, a cold, sharp thing. Her head swept across the crowd, her gaze lingering, searching. Then her eyes found yours. A sudden sharp dread washed over you. She smiled. And you know it was not a good thing at all.
By midday, the children Kekihe often played with ran toward the makeshift infirmary, their small voices shrill with panic. âVarang took Kekihe!â
Fear, raw and primal, seized you again. You ran, despite your still healing leg, toward Varangâs yurt, but you were stopped by SĂ€yim, her face streaked with blood, her worldless cries tearing at your heart. You pulled her into a desperate embrace, but she was signing frantically, a whirlwind of frantic gestures you couldnât fully understand. You saw Vakrep behind her, his smile sick and smug.
You unsheathed your knife and walked toward him. SĂ€yim held you back, her grip surprisingly strong, her eyes wide with terror as she continued to sign, her body trembling. âWhat did you do to her?!â you screamed at Vakrep, your knife held tightly, ready to strike.
âVarangâs orders,â he said, his voice smooth, unconcerned. âI told you, yerik. The day would come. I was counting.â He smirked.
You gritted your teeth, a growl rumbling in your chest, and lunged. But before you reached him, warriors, much stronger and bigger, held you back. You thrashed, your rage roaring within you. Vakrep turned his head to an emerging figure, silently ordering his warriors to let go of you when he saw Varang. The warriors pushed you toward Varang, and when you saw her serene face, your anger flared anew.
âWe must come to an agreement, daughter,â she said, her voice soft, smiling. She turned her back, entering her yurt.
You followed, your breath heavy, expecting to see Kekihe, but the yurt was empty. âWhere is Kekihe?â You hissed.
âShe is somewhere⊠safe.â Varang smiled, achillingly calm expression, not minding your tone. âShe will train under me. Just as you had, daughter.â Her meaning was clear.
âDo not hurt her,â you begged, your voice breaking, a desperate plea. You remembered the pain of your own childhood, the brutal training, the constant fear, the torture. Kekihe could not go through that. You refused to let it happen.
âOf course,â Varang said, her face twisting into a pretense of worry. âI would never. But of course, this is all on you, sweetling. If you are good to me, I am good to her. Do you understand?â
You took a sharp breath, your chest tight with dread. You nodded.
âYou will mate Vakrep.â She threw the curveball, and you felt like a knife was twisted in your gut. âYou agree?â Your eyes snapped to hers, disagreement blazing in them. She saw it, her smile faltering for a moment. âSĂ€yim and Kekihe⊠I see you care for them deeply.â Her fingers, played with your kuru, a subtle threat as she repeated, âYou agree?â
You swallowed hard, your throat dry. âI⊠I will think about itââ
She tugged, a sharp pull on your kuru. âDo. You. Agree?â
You took in another sharp breath, the air burning in your lungs. âYes,â you breathed out, tasting ash in your mouth.
She grinned, an uncanny sight. âJust as I thought you would.â She nodded, dismissing you.
You slipped out of Bridgehead the next day, a ghost in the pre-dawn gloom. The forest, once a sanctuary, now felt like a trap. You wanted to run, to flee this place, this fate. But SĂ€yim and Kekihe were constantly on your mind. They depended on you. What would Varang do if you didnât come back? Besides, you and Neteyam⊠it wasnât like that. You couldnât burden him with your woes, your twisted life. He deserved someone free, someone who wasnât the enemy of his people. Perhaps, who you were better off with, was Vakrep. Someone who had done things as unimaginable as you had done.
The fire cracked in the grotto, its flame mirroring the tremor in your hand as you traced the cracks of his chest. The words clawed at your throat and every breath tasted like ash, watching him with his eyes closed, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips, both sated and sleepy. It made your coming betrayal feel like a physical blow against your chest.
âWe need to stop this.â You whispered.
His eyes, though heavy with sleepiness, snapped open. A frown touched his brow. âWhat?â
âThis. Us.â You gestured vaguely between your bodies, still entwined. âIt has to end.â
He pushed himself up fully, sitting upright, the glow of the bioluminescent moss in the grotto allowed you to see his raw, vulnerable look. âWhy?â
You sat up, too. âThings always end, Neteyam.â You wrapped your arms around your naked from, creating a wall between you. âNothing lasts.â
He reached for you, his hand warm against your bare shoulder. âThis doesnât. Not us.â His voice was low, edged with a tremor of its own. âWhere is this this coming from?â
You flinched away from his touch. âNeteyam, this isn't serious. You know that, donât you? We are two young people who find pleasure in each otherâs company. There are no strings. Thatâs all we are.â
He snatched his hand back as if burned. His jaw tightened. âBullshit,â he said in a growl. âWhat if I want to be tethered to you? What if I want to be your mate?â
You laughed, a harsh, brittle sound that cracked in the quiet. âThen you are stupid.â Your voice rose, losing its calm. âI am Mangkwan, Neteyam. I am your peopleâs enemy. How many times must I remind you?â
âI do not care about any of that.â He grabbed your hand, his eyes burning into yours. âI never cared. Not about your clan. Not about your name. Only you.â
An exasperated sigh hissed between your teeth. âDo not make this hard, Neteyam.â Your voice broke, a plea escaping. âYou will forget me, trust. This will be a distant memory in the future and yuâll thank yourself for not taking this seriously.â
He cut you off with an anguished groan, a sound ripped from deep within him. âIf I could forget you, I would have done it years ago!â His voice cracked, raw with emotion. âBaby, I am in love with you...â
Tears, hot and sudden, pooled in your eyes at his tone. You loved him. A love so fierce it threatened to consume you. But this was a love you could not allow. You were poison. You would burn him to ash.
âI am to mate Vakrep.â The words echoed in the small space.
His head reared back, as if you had struck him, clawed his face. The fire in his eyes died, replaced by a chilling void. âYou canât possibly do that.â The word was barely audible.
âIt is not my choice.â Your voice was thin. âVarang⊠she decides.â The name was a curse.
âShe cannot keep decidinh your life for you!â He gripped your arms, his touch firm. âYou must fight. I will fight with you.â
You shook your head, the tears finally spilling down your cheeks. âI cannot. And you must not.â Your breath hitched. âShe will hurt SĂ€yim and Kekihe. She has Kekihe now. We havenât seen her for days.â Your voice rose, a desperate cry. âNeteyam, I know she will hurt her. Sheâs hurting her. She did it to me when I was small. She hurt me.â Your breathing grew ragged, quick, panicked gasps.
Neteyam watched your face crumple in pain, and then fear, your glassy eyes seem to see nothing but the horror of your childhood flashing before them. His face mirrored the anguish in yours, pulling you into his arms, a tight embrace that stole your breath. Your head burrowed into his shoulder, tears soaking his skin.
âI cannot allow her to hurt Kekihe. This is the only way.â
His hand tangled in your hair, stroking your head. âThis isnât the only way, my love.â His voice was a low rumble against your ear.
You shook your head slowly, a desperate denial. âI am not for you, Neteyam. I am the fire that will burn you to ashes if you donât let go...â
He tilted his head back, pulling you away just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was soulful, filled with an unwavering devotion that broke your heart further. âI will burn happily, baby.â
You hugged him then, tighter than you had ever embraced anyone. You clung to him, desperate to stop him from slipping away, to prevent the best thing that had ever happened to you from fleeting, leaving you alone in your dark world. Leaving the rendezvous place, the sacred space that had witnessed moons of your life with Neteyam, was the hardest thing you had ever done.
And now, a different fire crackled before you, its flames mocking your despair. You stared into it, your tears falling, unheard, and swallowed by what you must do. Tonight, you were to mate Vakrep. Tonight, you will lose whatever freedom you thought you have. You wished the fire would consume you, turn you to ash before you could endure such a fate.
SĂ€yim sat beside you, her anguish palpable. Her eyes, red-rimmed and swollen, mirrored your own. The female attendants, their faces impassive, finished arranging your headdress, an elaborate cage of red and sharp fibers.
SĂ€yim tugged at your hand when they left, her touch insistent. Her hands began to sign. You watched her, a knot forming in your gut.
âKekihe?â you asked, a desperate hope in your voice. She nodded eagerly, her hands moving again, a frantic dance. âI know, SĂ€yim,â you said, squeezing her hands. âThatâs why Iâm doing this. I will not let Varang hurt her.â
She shook her head, a violent motion, and pointed at you, her signing more urgent now.
âNo, she will not be like me.â You tried to reassure her, your voice thick. âI promise you. Varang will not kill me. I will fight. My priority is to protect you and Kekihe, always.â
She shook her head again, frustration twisting her features. Her hands flew, pointing at you, then at herself, then making the sign for death. You watched her, a chill creeping up your spine. Youâd seen the sign for death before, but the contextâŠ
âMy parents?â you asked, your voice barely a whisper. She nodded, tears pooling in her eyes, before making the sign again, insistent. You felt a her fear. âNo, SĂ€yim, I will not be like my parents. And Kekihe will not be like me. I will protect her. I promised you.â
She shook her head again, her face contorted in a silent scream. She signed once more, her movements sharp, desperate. You watched carefully, your head tilting as the meaning slowly, chillingly, solidified. When she finished, she stared at you, her eyes pleading, willing you to understand.
You blinked, the world momentarily blurring. âMy parents were killed?â She nodded eagerly, her hands signing, a torrent of unspoken words. âVarang?â
She nodded, tears streaming down her face, then she opened her mouth, revealing the raw, jagged scar where her tongue had once been. Your face twisted in horror. The realization and the sheer, brutal truth of it all struck you like a physical blow. You pulled her into a fierce hug, her frail body trembling against yours.
Anger, cold and swift, enveloped you, making you grit your teeth. It surged through your veins, eclipsing all else. You stood, a sudden, fierce resolve hardening your features. You walked to the corner of the yurt, grabbing your double-bladed staff from where it hung against the woven wall. SĂ€yim watched you, fear widening her eyes, but she did not stop you. Not this time.
You burst from the yurt, intent on finding Varang, on tearing her apart. But then, a deafening explosion ripped through the air, shaking the ground beneath your feet. It came from the RDAâs industrial site. You staggered, your fury momentarily forgotten, replaced by alarm. Screams, distant and terrified, echoed. Fire bloomed from the other side of Bridgehead, a hungry orange maw. You were watching in shock when another explosion, closer this time, erupted. You looked up, your eyes scanning the smoke-choked sky. A lone ikran was soaring above the flames.
âSullyâs boy! Sullyâs boy!â You heard the shrill of panic from sky peoplw. You saw them, small figures, scrambling, dispatching soldiers on the ground.
Neteyam.
From where you stood, away from the quickly growing fire, your heart drummed hard against your chest as you watched him nock another arrow in a swift, practiced motion. It flew, striking a huge RDA tank, making it erupt in a huge flame, an explosion that rocked the ground. Then, the ikran, with its defiant rider, banked sharply and flew away.
A hand clamped on your forearm. You spun, your eyes locking with Tawâtan, one of the Mangkwan warriors who had shown discontent with Varangâs rule. His face was grim, his eyes wide with urgency.
He tugged at your arm. âLetâs go! Get SĂ€yim!â
Your eyes widened, a breath of horror escaping your lips. Another explosion sent a shower of sparks into the night. The RDA was panicking, soldiers running on foot, fighter jets screaming into the sky.
âNo.â You shook your head, pulling your arm free. âYou get SĂ€yim! Get her to safety! Get everyone who will come with you to safety.â You met his gaze, your voice firm, absolute. âKekihe. I will find her.â
He tugged at your forearm again, his grip tight. âWe got her. Come with us now!â
You looked at him, surprised. Kekihe was safe? A wave of relief, potent and dizzying, washed over you. But there was no time for questions. Another young warrior, his face streaked with ash, emerged from your yurt, half-carrying SĂ€yim, who was signing frantically, her eyes wide with terror.
âGet them to safety, Tawâtan.â You ordered, your voice sharp, authoritative.
You didnât wait for his answer. You ran back into your yurt, grabbing your longbow and quiver of arrows. Your divided staff slung across your back. You burst out again, running toward where your ikran waited, agitated by the explosions.
You called to your ikran, a piercing whistle that cut through the din. It flew toward you immediately, a magnificent shadow. You jumped onto its back, making tsaheylu before you beckoned it upward.
The ikran launched into the air, its powerful wings beating against the smoke that managed to hide Neteyam from the sight of RDA pilots. You nocked an arrow, aiming for the closest fighter jet, a monstrous metal bird firing at Neteyam. The arrow flew, finding its mark in its open underbelly. It shuddered, black smoke erupting from its side, then plummeted, ensuring an explosion.
You saw Neteyam then, nocking another arrow toward an industrial site. A fighter jet, its engines roaring, pursued him relentlessly. You nocked another arrow sending it toward the jet. It struck one of its rotors, causing it to spiral into an explosive death. Several Mangkwan warriors on their ikran flew then, too. For a terrifying moment, you thought they were after you. But then, they swooped, targeting RDA tanks. They were on your side.
âNeteyam!â You bellowed, your voice carrying across the wind. You flew closer, noting the ash and red dye streaking his skin, just like yours. You motioned your head toward the dense canopies of the forest below. To cover. To ground.
You flew there, reaching the intricate labyrinth of trees in record time. But a hoard of Mangkwan warriors, their war cries echoing, immediately followed. You and Neteyam dove, flying under the thick canopies, knowing you wouldnât be able to fight the overwhelming numbers overhead.
âWhat were you thinking?!â You shouted at him, the wind whipping your words away. You weaved through the giant branches and twisting vines, the forest a blur of green.
Mangkwan warriors, their ikrans screaming, followed, their arrows slicing through the air, forcing you to duck and swerve. Then, you heard another set of war cries, different this time.
âOmatikaya!â Neteyam shouted, his ikran surging, attempting to fly upwards, to meet his kin.
You flew upward, too, but then you heard it. Vakrepâs sick, smug voice, calling your name. Instead of following Neteyam, you maneuvered your ikran, pulling it down, choosing to face him. But Neteyam, seeing your choice, also maneuvered his ikran, circling back down, placing himself between you and Vakrep.
Vakrepâs eyes, filled with a predatory gleam, landed on Neteyam. Surprise, a fleeting flicker, crossed his face. Then rage, when he spotted the choker adorning his neck along with an IFF tag you donât even know where Neteyam got.
âNeteyam te SuliâŠâ His voice was thick with fury, a guttural snarl. His gaze flicked to you, then back to Neteyam, as if he had just pieced together a grotesque puzzle.
Vakrep lunged on his ikran and Neteyam welcomed his assertion. Their ikran grappled in a swirling dance of fury. But Neteyam managed to unseat Vakrep, pulling him down to the forest floor. Neteyam was taller and bigger in built, his movements stronger. But you knew Vakrep. He was a cheat. Neteyam overpowered him, landing heavy punches on his face. Then, a flash of movement from above alerted you of the coming of a Mangkwan warrior loyal to Vakrep. You saw his arrow aim for Neteyamâs back and you unsheathed your knife, sending it his way, and it flew, burying itself deep in the manâs chest. He crumpled, his longbow falling harmlessly, but the arrow thatâs already loosed found its mark in Neteyamâs arm.
He groaned, an animalistic sound of pain and rage. Vakrep found his chance, pushing Neteyam off him and unsheathing his knife to send a blow on Neteyam but you moved, grabbing one of your blades behind you before tackling Vakrep off Neteyam who had just splintered the wood of the arrow lodged in his arm. You held Vakrep by his kuru, wrapping the thick plait around your hand and wrist. Meanwhile, Neteyam was quick to grab a random longbow and arrow, pointing it at Vakrep.
âPut your knife down, Vakrep,â you said, your tone biting. âWe will finish this here...â
He put his knife down, spitting blood down at your feet with disdain. âYou lay with the enemy, you disgusting whoreââ
You kicked the back of his knee, sending him down on his knee, before putting your blade in his throat. âYes, uncountable times. And it was great,â you snickered, making him thrash against your hold but you tugged at his kuru hard, while Neteyam renewed his hold on the arrow pointed at Vakrep. âEnjoy a warriorâs death.â
You slashed Vakrepâs neck in a clean, brutal cut, hearing him gurgle, a sickening sound, as blood gushed from his throat. You let out a sigh of relief, one that was short-lived because you heard familiar war cries descending from above. You looked at Neteyam, seeing a grimace of pain twisting his features, but he stood straighter, grabbing his weapon at the same time you fixed your blades into a double-bladed staff.
Vakrep, dead at your feet, was the first thing they saw. âTraitor!â One of them said before lunging.
You sifted your hold on the center of your staff, holding it tight before spinning it into a brutal arc to catch the spear of a Mangkwan who charged at you. One of your blades caught the shaft of his spear, knocking it before you spun the other blade to slit at his throat. Before his body even hit the ground, you saw Neteyam moving behind you, dropping low to a avoid a swinging club.
With a sharp thrust of his fist, he delivered a punch-stab to a Mangkwanâs chest, and before pulling the short blade out, he twisted his wrist, ripping his arm outward. The longer blade delivered a sweeping slash to another Mangkwan close to him. It was to your advantage that you know how the Mangkwan fight, some of them even trained under you, and now, when a warrior swung low at Neteyam's legs, you vaulted over the attackerâs crouching form, driving a blade into his shoulder and slicing upward.
Your flank was left exposed, but Neteyam stepped right in, his blade catching the strike meant for your ribs, deflecting it harshly before sinking his weapon into the enemy's side. You moved as one until the Mangkwan warriors fell, one by one, reduced to a heap of corpses.
You stood there, unable to process the carnage, when another hoard of Mangkwan warriors landed. But among them, you saw the familiar faces of those who had sided with you, Tawâtan among them. He eyed Neteyam, his fingers brushing his forehead in polite greeting, something youâve never seen your people do. He then glanced at Vakrepâs corpse among the heap of Mangkwan corpses before looking at you.
âSĂ€yim and Kekihe are with the women, they are accompanied by Faykirâs crew,â he told you.
Neteyam beside you spoke for the first time, his voice deep and almost breathless. âThink you can you send a man to their location? Iâll have men get the women and children, take them to safety.â
Tawâtan nodded, turning to SĂ€ron. âThis is our quickest rider.â
Neteyam nodded, removing an arm band, handing it to SĂ€ron. âIâll send men to the location. Show this to a man named Tormak.â
SĂ€ron nodded and walked away, while Neteyam touched something in his neck, speaking to someone in his comms to give his orders. He wasnât even finish yet when several Mangkwan landed again. You closed your eyes and sighed. When you opened it, you saw Riku, looking at his nephewâs corpse on the ground before his face contorted, a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. Then, Varang appeared, her eyes sweeping over the scene, landing on Neteyam with a chilling curiosity.
âThe famed son of Toruk Makto.â Her voice was a silken whisper. She smiled, a predatory curve of her lips, her eyes flicking to you. âYou came to take this woman.â She concluded, her gaze settling on you, cold and dissecting. âI wonder what youâve seen in her. She is weak. She failed her people.â
âI failed no one, Varang.â you spat her name out. âIt is you who failed us. Many Mangkwan died because of the RDA, and yet you refused to see. You have been so blinded by ambition and hatred that youâve lost sight of us! Among us, you are the weak one, refusing to budge and get over a single tragedy, allowing it to control your whole life and dictate what happens to your people!â
She snickered, a rasping sound. âWhy would they listen to you? You are a traitor. Just like your parents.â She smiled, a cruel, triumphant twist of her lips.
You watched her, pain piercing your heart. âYou killed them.â The words were a whisper.
âYes, I did.â Her eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction. âThey betrayed me. They were traitors who aided the damned Toruk Makto against my orders!â
âAnd what is the punishment for an Oloâeykte who betrays her people?â You met her gaze, your voice rising, gaining strength. âWho leaves them to themselves in times of great despair?â
She hissed and her warriors nocked their arrows, aiming at you. But then, the Mangkwan who sided with you, their faces grim, raised their bows. Varangâs eyes snapped up when she heard unfamiliar war cries descending from the air. The Omatikaya, among them Jake and Neytiri, landed behind you. The Mangkwan were outnumbered, and she knew it.
âLeave, or this will end here. And it will not be good for you, Varang,â you said her name in a biting tone. âFor everything you did to me and my family, I shall be righteous if I tear you apart.â
Varang watched you, her eyes sharp and full of resigned rage. She hissed and you hissed back. It must have taken so much of her pride to turn away, along with her warriors, and the fear that was overpowered by your anger swam to the surface, sending a tremor in your body. You staggered, the adrenaline draining. Neteyam immediately caught you, pulling you into his uninjured arm, his grip firm and comforting.
âOh, baby,â he whispered, breathless, hugging you.
âNeteyam, thank you. We owe Y/N the lives of our families. And now, we owe it to you, too.â He looked behind him, at the warriors you had helped in the past, their faces etched with gratitude. âIf itâs not too much⊠weâd ask uturu⊠only until we could stand on our own. If⊠if youâll have us.â
Neteyam seemed to look beyond you, his gaze sweeping over the Mangkwan warriors who had chosen to stand with you. He nodded once, his arm reaching out, gripping forearms with Tawâtan. Tawâtan let out an anguished sound, his arm finding your arm, his head bowing. The other Mangkwan warriors, laying down their weapons, knelt on one knee, bowing to your feet. Tawâtan thanked Neteyam, too, his voice thick with emotion and Neteyam told them to stand, his voice firm but kind.
âNeteyam.â A womanâs voice cut through the air. You looked behind you and saw a slightly older woman, her features striking and resembling Neteyam unmistakably.
âMother.â He said, his voice softening. You moved away, allowing his mother to embrace him. A slightly older man, tall and broad, walked toward them, too, placing a large hand on Neteyamâs head. He had five fingers, much like Quaritchâs, and you remembered him from the convention.
âWe all need to go home. You are wounded.â She told him, her eyes tracing the blood on his arm.
Neteyam nodded, his arm still around your waist, his grip firm, leaving no confusion about why this battle had been fought, or who he had fought it for.
Neteyam, despite his wound, made sure to accompany you to where SĂ€yim and Kekihe are when you all arrived at Hometree. You werenât expecting the Omatikaya to immediately warm up to you and your people, or expect them to accept your presence here, but you were thankful enough that they were not hostile. Save from some curious looks, and some children getting scared, there were really no violent reactions that you know of.
As you two walk, you saw a little girl approach, jumpy on her toes, her short braids flying in the air. âNeteyam!â Her jolly voice sounded, and when her eyes landed on you, you almost expected the girl's smile to falter but it didnât. âSome of the Mangkwan are sick, so grandmother had them all receive treatment at her tent. Tsanu is setting up a very large tent, he said itâs temporary but it's where they will sleep!â
Neteyam smiled, putting a hand over the girlâs head. âThis is Tuk, my little sister,â he told you.
You smiled. âHi, Tuk...â you said and her eyes widened a little before she smile shyly.
âAre you Y/N?â she asked curiously and when you nodded, she practically jumped over to your side and held your hand. âI know where your family is!â
She pulled you up a winding ramp, and honestly, you arenât really that used to climb trees and you almost lost your footing if only Neteyam werenât able to catch you. Tuk gestured to a small kelku like it was a gift and when you walked inside, you saw Kekihe and SĂ€yim huddled together. You let out a breathe of relief, especially at the sight of Kekihe.
âOh, Kekihe,â you ran inside, kneeling to hug the girl who hugged you back tightly, her hand clutching at your arm like she's afraid youâll disappear. SĂ€yim wrapped her around you two and you sobbed in her arms.
âAww...â you heard Tukâs small voice behind you.
A deep, unfamiliar wave of relief washed over you as you hugged them both, meanwhile, Nteyam still stands outside the kelku, still unbothered about his wound that his unyielding figure there catching SĂ€yimâs eyes. She signed. Is he your lover? She meant to say and you chuckled, despite your tears. You nodded silently.
âAnd I love him, SĂ€yim...â you mumbled, your tears falling.
It is a good thing, to love, she signed. He is a good man, I can tell. Her soulful eyes stared in yours, a reassurance.
You smiled and nodded, knowing that already. After talking with her for more, you walked outside, seeing Neteyam standing there. âNeteyam,â you said in a soft voice, your hand grabbing his forearm. âYou are wounded, you should have had this treated already.â
âYes, right now...â he mumbled. âThey are okay?â he asked.
You nodded, tears pooling in your eyes again. You feel like crying all day, just cry all the tears you havenât cried your whole life. âNeteyam. Thank you.â
He raised a hand, cupping your neck and jaw. âWeâll talk about this once Iâm treated,â he said and you nodded.
Later, as candles burned inside the Tsahikâs tent, Neytiri stood outside, her gaze fixed on the quiet form of her son inside. Moâat, her face etched with a calm wisdom, placed a hand on her daughterâs shoulder.
âAre you certain, Mother?â Neytiriâs voice was a low murmur, still watching her son.
Moâatâs smile was soft, a knowing curve of her lips. âI have dreamed of it for years, daughter. And you have never seen your son as happy as he has been in these past moons. Eywa could never be wrong.â Her grip on Neytiriâs shoulder pressed, a silent reassurance. âDo you worry, daughter?â
Neytiri let out a sigh, the sound heavy with unspoken thoughts. âItâs just⊠this isnât what I imagined.â
Moâat tilted her head, her eyes twinkling. âAnd you think Jake Sully is who I imagined for you?â
A small, surprised huff of laughter escaped Neytiri. âThat is different, Mother.â
âIs it?â Moâat questioned, her gaze unwavering. Neytiri met her motherâs eyes, a quiet understanding passing between them.
Days bled quickly. You watched your people shed their old lives by washing away the ash and paint, the symbols of their Mangkwan identity, revealing skin that had not seen the sun in years. SĂ€yim, her hands never idle, joined the Omatikaya weavers, meanwhile, Kekihe quickly found a friend in Tuk. The other Mangkwan found their place. Some hunters joined the Omatikaya hunting parties. While those who wished to be warriors will have to go through the Omatikaya iknimaya.
Kiri, her movements graceful, often sought you out. âLoâak, my brother, already found his mate,â she told you one afternoon, as Kekihe and Tuk splashed in a shallow stream nearby. âHe lives at Awaâatlu, in the eastern sea.â
You nodded, a faint smile touching your lips. Neteyam had already told you about it. He spoke to you of Awaâatlu, of the Metkayina, and their wise tulkuns.
Kiri smiled as she observed Kekiheâs joyous shrieks as Tuk splashed her. âTuk took to her quickly. She doesnât have many children her age to play with here. Now, there are many new children. Iâm pretty sure her friend Popiti will love Kekihe, too.â
Your gaze lingered on Kekihe, a warmth spreading through your chest. You should feel content, you thought. Your people were safe, cared for. Kekihe was happy. Yet, a restlessness stirred within you. Neteyam was healing, you knew, but why had he not sought you out? Days had passed. Perhaps, the novelty of the forbidden has worn off. You are afraid it was the case.
The Omatikaya also threw a celebratory feast. The air filled with the rich aroma of roasted meat and sweet fruits. You watched, a lump forming in your throat, as your people danced, their faces alight with genuine joy. Tears pricked at your eyes. This was true happiness, a gift you had never truly known.
Kiri appeared beside you, her voice gentle. âPeyâra told me you were Tsakarem of your former clan.â
You turned to her. âI hardly am. I just did what I needed to do.â
âBut you were their healer. You gave them hope when there was none. And they said they are alive because of you.â She offered you a vibrant forest flower, its petals unfurling like a tiny, colorful fan. âI think you ought to prepare yourself for Moâat. My grandmother. She is Tsahik of Omatikaya. You will have many meetings with her.â
Your brow furrowed slightly. âWhat for?â you asked softly, the words barely a whisper.
Kiriâs eyes shifted past your shoulder, a faint smile playing on her lips. She didnât answer, instead melting away into the throng, heading towards where Tuk and Kekihe now giggled, chasing glowing insects.
A sudden stillness enveloped you and your heart began a slow, heavy thud against your ribs. You didnât need to turn to know because the air around you had shifted, became more charged. You turned, slowly, and saw Neteyam, his arm bandage wrapped neatly. His eyes, dark and intense, were fixed on you. A lump formed in your throat again.
âHi,â you croaked, your voice thin. âHow are you?â
âFine,â he said, his voice deeper than you remembered, a touch rough. âWasnât so bad.â
You nodded, looking away, suddenly finding the intricate patterns of the Hometree floor fascinating. âGood. Thatâs good to hear.â You bit your lip, fighting the tremor that threatened to overtake it. Why the distance? Why the delay?
âYou?â he asked, his voice softer now. âHow are you settling in? SĂ€yim and Kekihe?â
You swallowed, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. âSĂ€yim is learning with the weavers. Sheâs always loved to weave. And Kekihe has found a friend in Tuk.â You glanced at your hands, twisting your fingers together. âMy people⊠some of them are no longer used to a Hometree. Ours was burned by the fire long before some of us were born. But they are learning.â
âThatâs great to hear,â he replied.
You looked down at the dancing figures, the vibrant colors blurring. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. You didnât know what else to say. The awkwardness was a physical weight. The thought, cold and sharp, pierced through you: the novelty has worn off. This is how it ends. After everything.
âIâll go,â you said, your voice barely audible. âCheck on SĂ€yim.â
âAre you avoiding me?â His voice, sharp and accusatory, stopped you mid-turn.
You snapped your head back, indignation flaring. âWhy would I avoid you?â you asked, your eyes almost narrowing at his audacity. Heâs the one avoiding you!
âI just got here.â His eyes narrowed.
âYeah. Well, itâs awkward. I donât think we have anything more to talk about.â Your voice was tight, strained.
He tilted his head, his expression hardening. Now that you truly looked, you saw not detachment, but a simmering anger in his gaze. âYou think so?â he asked, his voice low, dangerous. âI think we have so much to discuss.â
Your nose flared. âOh. You werenât really acting like it. You have avoided me for days,â you hissed, the words tumbling out. âAnd donât tell me you were healing. You are a man too virile to be knocked down by a single arrow on the arm for days. Just tell me if we should start acting like we donât know each other.â
He took a step forward, his immense height suddenly towering over you. His hand, surprisingly gentle despite the anger vibrating in his body, closed around your forearm. âI was angry with you, baby. Hell, I still am.â His voice was thick with frustration as he pulled you closer.
âWhy? I didnât do anything wrong. In fact, I should be mad at you. You are very stupid, you could have been killed!â you retorted, your teeth gritted.
A giggle drifted from nearby. You glanced over to see a group of teenagers, eyes wide with curiosity, whispering amongst themselves, their gazes flitting between you and Neteyam. He tightened his grip on your hand, pulling you away from the feast, deeper into the Hometreeâs winding ramps, until he found a secluded alcove glowing faintly with hanging firepots. He stopped, then turned to face you.
âThen what do you suggest I do, baby? Stay back and let you mate that scoundrel? You truly donât believe Iâd let that happen, do you? I would rather dieââ
âDonât say that!â you hissed, your shoulders slumping. The weight of your past, the chains of Varangâs manipulation, are long behind you. You were free. âI had to do it, Neteyam. My problems are not yours and I mean it when I said you shouldnât waste your life with me.â
He groaned, his grip on your hand tightening further as he pulled you fully into his embrace. âA life without you is the only one Iâll consider a life wasted.â His voice was a raw whisper against your hair. âI am so in love with you. And to know that you would rather carry your problems and burdens alone instead of sharing it with me is a heavier burden for me. I am here now, do you understand? Your problems and burdens are mine. You are mine.â
Tears welled, hot and stinging. The urge to weep, to collapse into his arms, was overwhelming. To be protected, loved, to have your burdens carried by someone who cherished you so deeply. This was a feeling utterly new, completely foreign. SÀyim and Kekihe loved you, yes, but you carried them, protected them. This, this kind of love that allowed you to rest, to simply be⊠it undid you.
You cupped his jaw, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone. You gave him a weak, open-mouthed kiss, and he groaned, a deep, guttural sound. You sniffled, tasting salt on your lips. âI love you, Neteyam.â
His arms tightened around you, crushing you against his chest. His head dipped, finding your forehead, then your lips. âI love you so much, baby. And I see you. I have always seen you.â
You smiled through the hot tears, a genuine, radiant smile. You knew the truth of his words. âI see you, Neteyam.â You pulled back slightly, your gaze locking with his. âAnd I love you so much.â You rose onto your toes, kissing him again, your arms hooking around his nape, your chest pressing against his. Both your hearts hammered, a frantic, joyous rhythm against your ribs. âWhere is your hut?â you mumbled against his lips.
His eyes darkened, but a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. âSo we can talk more in private?â He raised a brow, a teasing glint in his gaze.
You pursed your lips, peering up at him with feigned innocence. âDidnât you say we have lots to discuss? Itâs a little loud out here.â You pursed your lips.
He grinned. âWell, since you askedâŠâ He took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, and led you up the winding ramps of the Hometree.
In the quiet sanctuary of his hut, he kissed you, softly, lovingly. There was no rush, only the deep connection that hummed between you. His hand cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek, his eyes soulful as they searched yours. âI want to be your mate, my love. And⊠I want you to be mine.â His whisper was raw, full of yearning.
You blinked, a fresh wave of tears blurring your vision. Mating in your clan had been a nothing but a means of reproduction or domination. Theirs, you knew, was a sacred bond, witnessed by Eywa herself. And you had known his body, known his touch, the way he made love, the way he pleasured you like a man cherishing his beloved woman.
His hand cradled your face. âI will not force you to worship who I worship. It will take time for you to believe, I know that. But⊠I want to be truly yours, and you to be truly mine. So please, have me...â The yearning in his voice was palpable, a tangible thing that wrapped around your heart.
Tears pooled in your eyes, brimming, then spilling. âI am yours, Neteyam. You have me.â
He kissed you, your head pillowed on the soft, woven mat. He made love to you, slowly, the connection of your kurus pulsing, enhancing the experience. His mouth muffled your moans, silencing the sounds that threatened to escape. âShh, baby. People might hear,â he whispered, a chuckle rumbling against your lips.
âBut itâs so good,â you whined, pulling him back for another kiss.
The next times were rougher. You felt his earlier anger and frustration, in every thrust, every hard squeeze on your breasts. You bit down on your loincloth, muffling your cries as you lay facedown, his body pressing into yours from behind. You lost count of how many times he claimed you, how many times you surrendered. Even as you drifted to sleep, he was still moving inside you, his lips pressed to your neck.
You woke to the cheerful sound of childrenâs laughter. A soft smile touched your lips. You heard Kekiheâs voice among them, clear and bright. It felt like a dream, a fragile, beautiful illusion. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the smooth skin of Neteyamâs shoulder. He stirred, a low groan escaping him, and pulled you closer, his arm tightening around your waist.
âI think theyâll call for breakfast soon,â you murmured, your voice thick with sleep.
âLetâs skip it,â he mumbled, his hand on your shoulder sliding down to knead your round breast, rolling and pinching the pebbled tip.
âIâm hungry,â you complained playfully, a soft gasp escaping you.
He chuckled, his lips pressing against your ear. âIâll fill your belly up, donât worry.â
You groaned, the soreness between your legs is not a joking matter. âNo thanks,â you said, pushing against his chest. You were still recovering from being pounded on literally just an hour ago, both of you waking up just to fuck and then going to back to sleep again.
Neteyam caught your waist as you tried to roll off the mat, pulling you back, your back slamming against his chest, his lips finding your neck. You shrieked, and then clamped your mouth shut, remembering the children just outside the hut. You bit your lip as you found yourself beneath him again, peering up as his hand hooked under your knees, lifting them, spreading your legs wider.
Suddenly, Tukâs voice, echoed nearby and you sat up and pulled a blanket over you in record time. Thankfully, she didn't burst inside. âYou two should really see this! This is the coolest thing youâll ever see!â
Neteyam groaned, his head falling back. âShe says that all the time.â
You chuckled, kissing his cheek. âWe should really get up now.â You moved quickly, dressing yourself, trying to smooth your hair as best you could. He followed you out of the small alcove and into the receiving area of his kelku.
There, you stopped, breathless. Hundreds of atokirina, glowing with an ethereal light, floated in the air, swirling and dancing. Thousands, perhaps, some even drifting gently inside the kelku. From below, you could hear the soft murmurs of the people, watching from the branches, while children chased the glowing spirits with joyous shouts.
You felt Neteyamâs warmth behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. He held out a hand, catching an atokirina in his palm, its gentle glow illuminating his face. You watched in awe, never having witnessed such a breathtaking display.
âWe have been blessed, my love,â he whispered, his lips pressing a soft kiss below your ear.
You reached out, catching one in your own palm, its tiny light pulsing softly. You smiled, a deep, profound sense of peace settling over you. A promise of a new beginning.
Below, Neytiri, Moâat, and Jake watched the spectacle unfold.
âThey have been blessed, Jake,â Neytiri said, a radiant smile on her face.
Jake blinked, looking at his mate, then back at the floating lights. âWhat? Did they mate⊠there?â
Neytiri smacked his arm, her eyes widening in mock outrage. âYou donât say that! To anyone, at all!â
Jake rubbed his arm where Neytiri smacked him. âI didnât know the atokirina could float this high...â he said innocently.
âNothing is impossible in Eywaâs grace, children,â Moâat said, her smile serene, her gaze fixed on the two figures silhouetted against the glowing spirits.
maybe being mated to the perfect son, the perfect husband was starting to kill you.
it sounds dramatic, sure, but you didnât want to dwell on it or youâd just get snappy with the kids and then heâd give you that look, that disappointed âyouâre supposed to be the leaderâ look, and then youâd have to spend the whole night apologizing while he just stares at the wall.Â
and you canât stand it when heâs quiet.
so you just keep your mouth shut. you play the part.
but honestly, sometimes you feel like a guest in your own home, like youâre just there to fix the nets and bring in the meat and make sure loâak doesnât kill himself, and youâre starting to get tired of it.Â
you donât hate him, obviously. you love he more than anything. you remember how he looked when you first met him or when you were pregnant with your first daughter, how he held your hand when the sky people came back, how heâs the only person who actually makes you feel safe.
but god, Neteyam is exhausting to live with.
youâre always the one who has to remember the small stuff, the specific way the bows need to be strung, the exact time to start the fire so the kids donât get cranky, and if you miss one thing, just one tiny thing, itâs like the world is ending. and youâre the one who has to fix it.
âiâll sharpen the spears after i eat, i promise.â is what you said, just trying to sit down for five minutes after a twelve hour patrol of trying to get your two daughters to sit down and he just looks at the pile of wood you havenât chopped yet and makes that clicking sound with his tongue. âthe hunt is at dawn, yawne. âafterâ doesnât help us then.â
you just feel this hot spike of annoyance in your gut and you want to tell he to do it himself if itâs so urgent, but you see spider and kiri watching from the mats and you just deflate. âyouâre right. iâm sorry. iâll do it now.â
and you do. you always do.
youâre the one who stays up late working while your hands ache. youâre the one who says sorry when heâs being unreasonable. youâre the one who carries all the weight because youâre the âstrong oneâ and youâre not allowed to be frustrated.
until that night.
The fireâs burned down to embers, the kids are finally asleep, and heâs been pressed against your back, deep In your pussy for a while now , his arm draped over your waist as he slowly glides your hips back onto his hard cock.Â
You should be asleep too, but your mind wonât quiet, wonât stop picking at the seams of the day.Â
His cock is hard against your hole, and before you can even protest, heâs sliding inside you again from behind, slow and thick, filling you up until youâre gasping into the furs. Heâs been grinding into you for what feels like forever, his hips rolling in lazy, deep circles, his breath hot against the back of your neck.
You can feel his last release dripping out of you every time he pulls back, only to push in again, his cock dragging through the mess heâs already made.Â
His hand slips under your arm, fingers finding your nipple, pinching just hard enough to make you whimper. âFuck, yawne,â he growls, his voice rough, his hips stuttering as he bottoms out inside you.Â
The sound of your pussy is obscene in the quiet room, wet and sloppy, and you canât help the way your body clenches around him, greedy for more.
His lips brush your shoulder, his voice a low, desperate whisper. âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâmââ His words dissolve into a groan as your toes curl against his leg, your body shuddering through an orgasm that leaves you trembling. He doesnât stop, though. He just keeps fucking you, desperately, whispering apologies about his words from earlier.
And then, because youâre a glutton for punishment, because you canât let it go, you ask, breathless: âDid you put the food up?â
His cock twitches inside you. His body tenses. And then he sighs, his hips stuttering for a second before he pulls back just enough to slam into you harder. âWhy is it always something with you?â
You shouldâve kept your mouth shut because now that you look back, it wasnât the best time to mention it. You know you shouldâve. But the words are out now, and his thrusting turns much more harder than before, his thrusts getting hard and deepening, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave marks. âBecause if I donât ask, itâll rot, and this isnât the first time youâve forgot. â you bite out, even as your body betrays you, arching back into him.
He sighs, and suddenly heâs fucking you even harder hard, relentless, his cock pistoning in and out of you with a wet, sloppy sound that fills the room.Â
His other hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to press his mouth to your throat, his teeth grazing your skin. âYou think I donât know that?â His voice is a snarl, but his hips never stop, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur. âYou think Iâm a kid that needs to be micromanaged???â
His grip on your hair tightens, fingers twisting in the dark strands as he yanks your head back harder, forcing your back to arch sharply against his chest. âMy cock is this deep,â , he pushes his cock as deep as it can go letting his balls squish again your ass. â and you still think I donât know what Iâm doing.â he snarls, voice low and dangerous, each word punctuated by a brutal snap of his hips.
The wet, filthy sound of his thick cock slamming into your soaked cunt echoes through the quiet marui. Your pussy is a sloppy, creamy messâhis previous loads and your own slick dripping down your thighs, coating his heavy balls as they slap against your clit with every punishing thrust.Â
Heâs so deep it hurts in the best way, the fat head of his cock battering against your cervix like heâs trying to bruise it.
You canât stop the broken moan that rips from your throat. âN-Neteyamâahhâfuck!â
He doesnât slow down. If anything, he fucks you harder, hips snapping forward with savage force, stretching your tight walls around his throbbing length.Â
His hand leaves your hip only to slap your ass hard enough to sting, the sharp crack cutting through the obscene squelching of your cunt.
âYou just canât let it go, can you?â he growls against your ear, teeth sinking into the sensitive skin of your neck hard enough to leave a mark. âEven with my cock buriedâmhh fuck, âthis deepâ
He pulls almost all the way out, leaving just the swollen tip inside your fluttering hole, before slamming back in with a brutal thrust that makes your whole body jolt.Â
Your tits bounce heavily with every thrust, nipples tight and aching. His free hand reaches around to pinch and twist one, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers until youâre crying out, tears of overwhelming pleasure pricking at your eyes.
Your pussy clenches violently around him, gushing more slick as another orgasm crashes through you. Your walls flutter and milk his cock, but he just keeps pounding you through it, using your spasming cunt like a toy.
âlook at you,â he hisses, voice dark with anger and lust. âCumming so hard on my cock while you scold me. You like scolding me, huh? Is that why youâre always so angry?â
He releases your hair only to grab both your hips with bruising strength, yanking you back onto his cock as he rails you from behind.Â
The wet slaps of skin on skin are loud and relentless. His balls are soaked, slapping messily against your swollen clit with every thrust. Youâre drooling into the furs, eyes rolled back, body shaking as he uses you.
Itâs too much. Too rough. Too deep. And you fucking love it.
But then Neteyam seems to realize something.
Neteyamâs rhythm falters. His harsh breathing catches. He stills deep inside you, cock twitching against your abused walls as the anger suddenly drains from his body. A quiet curse leaves his lips.
âShit⊠yawne.â
He pulls out of you slowly, his thick cock glistening with your combined mess. Before you can protest the sudden emptiness, he gently flips you onto your back. The furs are soft beneath you as he settles between your spread thighs, his large frame hovering over yours.
His golden eyes are softer now, filled with regret as he looks down at youâyour flushed face, your heaving breasts, the way your pussy is still clenching and leaking his cum.
âIâm sorry,â he whispers, voice rough but tender. One large hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. âI was too harsh. I didnât mean to be so rough with you, I justââ
You cut him off by reaching up, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down into a deep kiss. Your legs wrap around his waist instantly, heels digging into his lower back as you whisper against his mouth, âI liked it.â
Neteyam groans, forehead resting against yours. âYouâre going to ruin me.â
You donât let him pull away. Your hands slide down his broad back, fingers digging into the firm muscle of his ass as you pull his hips forward. His cock, still rock hard and slick, nudges against your dripping entrance.
âInside,â you breathe. âPlease.â
He sinks into you in one smooth thrust, filling you to the hilt in missionary. This time itâs slower at first⊠deeper, more intimate. His hips roll against yours in long, sensual strokes, grinding his pubic bone against your swollen clit with every thrust. You can feel every thick inch of him dragging along your sensitive walls, the messy mix of cum and slick squelching lewdly between your bodies.
Neteyam kisses you like heâs trying to apologize with his mouth, slow, deep, filthy kisses where his tongue slides against yours, tasting every moan you give him.Â
His hand cradles the back of your head while the other grips your thigh, holding you open for him.
But you want more.
Your hands squeeze his firm ass harder, nails digging into the muscle as you pull him deeper. Your lips brush his ear, voice a desperate, broken whisper:
âFaster⊠please, Neteyamâharder. Fuck me harder.â
He shudders above you, a low growl vibrating in his chest.
You beg again, lips against his jaw, voice trembling with need. âI can take it. Pleaseâgive it to me. Harder.â
Thatâs all it takes.
Neteyamâs control snaps. He braces his hands on either side of your head and starts fucking you with deep, punishing strokes, fast and brutal, just like you wanted.Â
The wet slap of his hips against yours fills the marui again as he rails you into the furs.Â
âYesâfuckâyes!â you whimper, legs locked tight around him, hands desperately gripping his ass as you urge him deeper, faster. âDonât stopâharder, pleaseâ!â
He gives you exactly what you beg for, pounding into you relentlessly. His balls slap wetly against your ass, your pussy creaming around his thick length as another orgasm builds fast and violent inside you.
Neteyam buries his face in your neck, kissing and biting as he fucks you senseless, the perfect son and husband completely lost in the filthy need between you.
First time doing something so dominate, how did u feel about it?
It was late at night in the hideout the raiders had. Most of them were sleeping with few exceptions. Zodyl was probably brooding somewhere, coming up with more plans and missions to send you all out on.
Momoa might have been asleep, but she was most likely up and just hiding away in her room so no one would bother her.
You and Jabber though? Attempts at being quiet were made at some point, but like always it was just completely abandoned. This time, it wasnât even your fault. It was this assholeâs fault.
You were sitting on his lap, stretched around his dick, really trying to keep in your sounds but it was quite hard. Jabber wasnât trying at all. His moaning and groans were growing louder by the minute. You had shoved your fingers in his mouth to shut him up.
It didnât work at first but eventually he shut up. You hardly noticed though, still caught up in your own pleasure and trying to keep quiet.
You were so distracted you hadnât even noticed Jabber had stopped completely. His hands fell from your hips, his breathing slowed down, he was looking elsewhere. You were made aware soon after though.
A sharp pain shot through your entire body, and you screamed. You stopped completely falling over onto Jabberâs chest.
You didnât move for a solid five seconds, and had been completely disoriented. Once you blinked back to consciousness, you felt Jabber shaking under you. Then you heard him laughing.
âWhat the fuck, Jabber?!â You exclaimed, sitting up weakly. Jabber just kept laughing at you. You looked down at his hand, and he was holding a literal taser.
âHoly shit.. whyâd you scream?â Jabber said through his laughter. You gave him a look of disbelief and just slapped him which made him groan.
âAre you slow?? I screamed cause you tased me, you asshole!â You climbed off his lap, not wanting to keep going. Now you were tired, his fucking fault. Couldnât even get off anymore.
âNoo! Whyâd you stop??â Jabber whined which made you scoff. He sat up, and kept grabbing at you but you were pushing his hands away. You slapped the taser out of his hand.
âBecause you ruined it! Whereâd you even get that from??â You questioned. You were mad because obviously he interrupted your pleasure, but also now that you screamed, Noerde and Cthoni would definitely be pissed that you woke them up. Hopefully they didnât wake up. Have lots of faith with that loud ass scream.
âI found it early today when we coming back from the mission.â Jabber said while touching the place he tased you in. You shoved his hands away from your side, looking at it yourself. Great. A burn on your side.
You looked back up at him and he had the biggest smile ever.
âIm going to bed.â You scowled making Jabber whine again. He grabbed your hands, preventing you from turning over.
âWait! Im sorry, I was just kidding.. donât you want to punish me?â Jabber smiled. You frowned, trying to keep yourself from yelling at him again.
âYou enjoy being punished, how is that a punishment??â You said while trying to pull your hands out of his grasp. He just readjusted, holding your wrists in his hand, his other hand going to the taser. You tried to get out of his grip, thinking he wad gonna tase you again, but he held the taser out to you.
âWhat?â You questioned, taking the taser from him as he let you go. You looked up at him and he was sporting the most pathetic look, and you just knew he was about to ask you to do some bullshit.
âWhy donât you try it on me?â Jabber smiled while you scowled at him. You thought about ignoring him, and just walking out. Then you thought about how you could possibly turn this into something unfulfilling for him. Which is how you ended up like this.
Jabber was groaning and whining under you, as you repeatedly tased him. Your hand was wrapped around his already leaking cock that was already stimulated from you riding him earlier.
Jabber was saying something but it was damn near incoherent because you kept tasing him before he got half the sentence out. You kept squeezing the base of his cock before stroking it but only a little.
He pissed you off, so if he wanted pain so bad, heâd get it.
âFuckâ! I knew youââ You cut him off with another tase making him groan under you, his whole body locking up before you stopped the shock.
âYouâre enjoying this!â He said through moans making you scoff and squeeze his dick harder. He groaned, and you released, stroking him again.
âYou are such a freak..â You muttered. He looked so pleased with the look of displeasure you were giving him, he was drooling. Partially from the tensing the tasing was causing, and just pure need of you.
Jabber moans loudly as you keep stroking him but was interrupted again with the taser.
âYouâre soâ mmhm..â Jabber groans as he came, leaking all over your hand. He didnât even last that long.
âYou canât last for shit.â You huffed, wiping his cum off your hands with his bed sheets. You dropped the taser, and he sprung back up almost immediately.
âItâs your fault. Iâve never been tased before. And you definitely have never gotten that mad at me.â He said, wiping away his drool with a large satisfied smirk. He looked down at you, then to the taser.
âMaybe I was that mad cause you shocked me with a dirty taser!â You said angrily, turning away from him. You thought about how everyone else was probably awake from how loud Jabber just was. Theyâll get over it. Maybe.
âYour turn next.â He smiled, making you turn to him in confusion. Before you could even respond, tased again.
End.
This and realizing i can write whatever i wantđ€
Pauses deep inside, "Oh is that who you're thinking about right now? Should we ask him to come join us?" He'll make sure whoever you called out for can hear you screaming on his-everyone will know who's actually making you feel good.
Gris:
He'll stop mid-thrust and look down at you. "What did you just say?" He'll wait until you say the name again, he'll ask if that person is worth more of your time, if that person has more than him, and if not, he'll remind you exactly who can give you everything.
August:
"Woah what?!" He's stopping and pulling out completely, sulking like a petulant child until you shower him with love, affection, and apologies for the slip-up. "Hm, I think you know who your favorite is by now."
Follo:
Uses the mistake to drive himself harder and rougher, giving you all he has to offer. "Does ___ make you feel this good? Can_ make you c*m like this?" Will taunt you with that name for a while.
Tamsy:
He pulls out completely and waits for you to apologize and get it right. Even then, it's still not enough to get him to continue what he was doing. He makes you beg and plead for him, for everything that only he can give you, only then will he satisfy your desires.
Zodyl:
He won't care because chances are he gave you a fake name to begin with. So, if it's not the name he gave you, he won't even remember. All that matters to him is your body connected with his, doesn't matter what name you use.
Jabber:
"Who's that, baby? Does he make you feel good-? Mm, maybe we can ask him to come join us." Yeah, he'll definitely just take it as an invitation for a threesome.
â¶â.Ëplug!jabber who invited you to celebrate 4/20 with him one time..completely serious n all
â¶â.Ëplug!jabber who loves to show up without calling or texting first, heâs just kinda there n you gotta get used to it
â¶â.Ëplug!jabber who is either extremely loud and giggly, or super deep in thought when high
â¶â.Ëplug!jabber who will always pick up the phone when itâs you, there have been multiple times when you call and then hear water running
âare you..in the shower?â
âyou called?â
âhow is your phone not- hey, youâre actually showering for once!â
âwhat?! what do yo- oh.â
â¶â.Ëplug!jabber who sets aside money from his other customers to take you out for drinks or dinner sometimes
â¶â.Ëplug!jabber who loves to greet you by crushing, unexpected hugs from behind
â¶â.Ëplug!jabber who one time, when you said your back was itchy, scratched it with Mankira. he thought youâd slumped over from relaxation, and didnât realize for another 5 minutes that heâd actually knocked you out cold by accident
â¶â.Ëplug!jabber who you had a tiny fwb situation a while ago that neither of you bring up anymore but he thinks about it frequently
â¶â.Ëplug!jabber who isnât too much of a relationship person anyway. heâll take you out, and if he wants to fuck heâll just say that straight up, but he isnât too smooth on the whole stable relationship standpoint
â¶â.Ëplug!jabber whose favorite position is doggystyle argue with the wall idc
â¶â.Ëplug!jabber who only ever takes Mankira off to finger you, unless you ask him to keep her on
this is apparently a much-needed reminder that following the every move of someone you hate online and harassing them is cyberstalking. unless you have undeniable proof that they are harming people or animals irlâin which case you should be pursuing criminal chargesâyou are in the wrong. you donât have the moral high ground; you are a creepy, obsessed stalker who needs a new hobby.
đ pit stop ! đŠč yuuji always maintains a good grip on his emotions. for his friends, for his old teachers, for you. he has to, in order to protect the ones he loves from sukuna. except for the one time he doesnât. (3.1K)
đ safety car ! â not safe for work â smut â eighteen plus only. curses au, sorta canon compliant, characters in 20s, established relationship, dubcon, marking, cheating (kinda?), implied violence, rough sex, unprotected sex, jujutsu sorcerer yuuji itadori, sukuna & fem reader.
i feel like yuuji always does his best to make sure heâs in control around you. heâs pretty good at keeping sukuna in check usually, around his old teachers and his friends â but around you he works overtime. thereâs a constant fear that the king of curses will jump out and maim you⊠itâs all sukuna really talks about. how heâs so excited to taste your flesh, pull you apart maybe even wreck that sweet hole of yours if yuuji lets him slip.
itâs why he keeps his emotions in check too. you never fuck angry, you never stay angry at one another in case sukuna sees a crack in your sweet boyfriendâs resolve and does his best to break free â trickling through the teeny tiny emotional wound before the two of youâve had a chance to patch things up. sukunaâs always watching though, waiting â he almost knows your body as well as itadori does since heâs seeing the world through his eyes, anyway. you love being full, two fingers reaching for the back of your throat whilst two more play with the gooey mess lathered over your clit. sometimes, you like it soft and tender â on your back while the brat moves languid and slow as if heâs trying to carve his way into the depths of your body and live between each one of your ribs. he might as well enjoy the show.
sukunaâs memorised the way you moan when your flesh is tortured with teeth marks and bitten into. how you gush hot slick when your tummy is pressed down on and how pathetic you look when you stand on the very edge of ecstasy like a thrill seeker â ready to die for the love of it all. you get all teary eyed and helpless underneath itadoriâs brute strength and ravaging thrusts. youâre so soft, sukuna aches for the day itâll be his turn to ruin you and show you real sin. heâd be lying if the thought of you fearful and weak underneath him didnât make his mouth water. with a pussy so pudgy and ripe for the taking, how could he not? youâre lucky the pink haired brat is so difficult to over turn.Â
regardless of sukuna watching or not â sex with yuuji is always so intense. his mind empties of all thought, except for you, zeroed in on your pleasure. the man pours enough passion into you until your cup overflows and tips over, spilling the secrets of his affections for you like that of wine. blood red like that which courses through his veins and heart that beats purely for you. even if itâs deep rooted and fuelled by emotion, yuuji keeps himself contained in fear of switching out. hurting you. showing you the face of someone he canât bear to see in the mirror.
though itâs a little more difficult for him when the day has been rough and worn hard on the sorcerer. thereâs bruises all over his body, hot to the touch and tender under your fingertips that claw their way into his skin and heâs tired. so, so tired, he feels that he might break into a thousand tiny pieces that only you can slot back together â knowing where each of them fit. the mission today was a bust, nobara with her nagging had pissed him all the way off and people⊠people died. he knows he canât erase it, wash the blood from his hands and shower away the weight of improper deaths â but what he can do, is lose himself in the beauty of you.Â
soft and safe â supple skin running warm with heat radiating from your body, enough to thaw out itadoriâs heart before it has a chance to turn cold and corrupted. he leans into you, hopes that youâll bathe him in good and scrub the dirt of his crimes from underneath his fingernails. when he said he needed you, you didnât hesitate to give up your body and your heart to soothe him â letting muscle and bone meld with your own like hot iron smelted down into something more viscous. like liquid lust.
yuuji has your ankles by his ears, sloppy open-mouthed kisses tracing the swell of your calf in a wordless declaration of love. thank you for being here. thank you for letting me use you. the position stretches your pudgy pussy over his thickness, widest as the base where the pink haired sorcerer bottoms out each time â caramel eyes sweet as molten sugar dart down to the slick space between your legs where you shimmer for him, around him, drooling all wet on his shaft that pumps in and out of you deeply.Â
his eyes gloss over, darkened, but hardly unsettling â it makes your belly swirl with butterflies, the delicious burn of his girth carvings way inside of you. the pulsating veins brush up against spots you can never seem to reach yourself and his bulbous cockhead pushes out copious amounts of precum along your cervix. marking you from the inside out. it hurts in the best of ways but you can see yuuji losing himself too much to memories outside of just you and him. the day that wreaked havoc on his joy turns his thrusts to a bullying pace and sends the headboard slamming into the wall behind the bed, who wails under every forceful swaying motion.Â
âgod, y-yuujiâŠ!â you yelp dreamily, a sharp buck of his hips sending you reeling. feeling as though his hardness is far enough inside you to lie between your lungs.Â
to bring him back to you, your trembling fingers reach out to touch itadoriâs scarred face â your thumb brushing over the damp swell of his bottom lip and tracing the chapped skin there. smoothed over by his drooling. yuuji tilts his head away from where his nose is tucked against your calf, fluttering gaze finding yours before he switches gears pushing behind your knees with a rough palm so that they bend at his waist whilst he lies between them where youâre spread.Â
âi know baby, âm sorry, i know,â some semblance of the sorcerer that you love emerges from his hazy state, still gliding in and out of you with sloppy ease but this time â close and personal, back where he needs to be. yuuji presses a kiss to your temple, balmy when he gathers enough energy to speak. âfuck, you take it so well, even when âm being rough. makinâ me feel s-so good, baby.â he praises, heady need spreading through his limbs like an uncontrolled fire. you feel it too, doing your best to grind up into him and meet your boyfriendâs pace rather than run from it. he needs you today.Â
âmmnnnâŠfuck, yuu!â you gasp wantonly â back arching from the sheets coated in your sweat and other evidence of your tiny together. âf-fuck me, m-more! please!â
you plead wildly, but youâve no idea what it is that youâre asking itadori for. he does what he can to soothe you, tongue dragging down the side of your face while his rough hands roam free. tweaking the sensitive peaks of your nipples, smoothing down your navel shortly after just to roll your clit from side to side between your sticky folds. heâs relentless, taking frustration out on you that he canât seem to get out of his head. and youâre such a good girl because of it, cunt suctioning him down â obscene claggy noises echoing between your bodies and tangling with moans that hang in the balmy air.Â
âmhm, yeah? you just want me to take it all out on you,â itadori mumbles attentively, a groan so deep and debauched rumbling from the centre of his chest and right through you. the sound is soft, cushioned by sweet nothings and gentle praises written into your feverish skin but contrasts with the manner in which yuuji manhandles you â pulling you up by the backs of your knees off the bed, settling further into your cunt that strangles him so sweetly. âgonna cum for me, baby? can feel you getting so close. so goddamn warm and tight, fuck.âÂ
his vocal tone, so far gone and dangerous causes your eyes to screw shut and your pussy to gush involuntarily like she has a mind of her own. your shaky arms weave their way around yuujiâs neck to anchor him to you whilst you nod along with his mindless, horny chatter. ây-yes, pleaseâŠâ impossibly, he presses himself closer as you cry and squeal, the knots winding and binding you to hold your orgasm back slowly beginning to unravel before you have a chance to register. sweat drips from his torso to yours, droplets running between the valley of your bouncing breasts.Â
he doesnât say anything in response, gargling on his own gripes and groans â focused on pumping you full of everything he has to give, lining your ripe walls with an early release. with yours just over the horizon, yuuji bucks his hips faster and harder, just barely pulling himself from your snug sex. for a moment, the world stills, the only sounds bouncing off the walls and condensing against them being the souse slap of skin on skin in unequal rhythm â signifying the crescendo of your love making.
you leave tigerâs stripes down the length of his back with your nails, crescent moons at intervals because you need anchor yourself to the earth before he takes you to the heavens. in return, yuuji pants hungrily into your ear â jumbled promises of filling you up sliding over your brain like a dark veil. heâs just as close as you are, you can tell my every twitch and tick of his body against yours ⊠but suddenly the vibe shifts into something more uncertain. almost frightening.
you feel him swell between the thighs, thicker than he was before â having to work extra hard to drive those inches into your ruined, sloppy mound. the higher octave of yuujiâs sweet molasses voice bubbles into something gruffer and sinister as he curses against your bare shoulder, pink hair tickling your neck for only a second. in the next, your boyfriend is lifting his chest from yours to grasp at the headboard â knuckles whitening from the grip on hard wood.Â
deft digits press into your pulsating flit, flicking it aggressively from side to side whilst you bow upwards and away from the damp linens sticking to your back. this isnât like yuuju, to rough you up without notice â to make it spring as he folds you in half and plunge into your rippling walls with violent vigor. itâs only when a sharpened gallon spreads your slit wide on his devastatingly fat cock do you realise who and what is above you.Â
the king of curses, balls deep in your pussy that greedily locks around him like heâs yours.Â
everything about him is near identical to your loving, doting boyfriend. the one who protects you, makes love to you and cherishes your kisses like theyâre made of wisps of sugar thatâll melt in water. now that sukunaâs taken over â brutish and bullying as he bulges within your stomach and spreads your legs wide enough to hit the strength of his hips. the weight of him crushes you delightfully, roughly smacking into you, pressing down on your lungs and heart. you know that at any moment â he could kill you and leave you a mess for itadori to clean up. so even though you should, you donât hate it.Â
âs-sukunaâ!â nonetheless, you whimper â vision blurred in bliss, every inch of your body and all four of your limbs trembling.Â
âyou donât look so happy to see me, human,â a cruel grin splits wide on familiar lips â the expression somehow sinister on the face of the man you love so much. sukuna leans in, the black ink lines of his tattoos settle, and crease in concentration as he ploughs you into the bed so hard it screams for him to stop. you feel him grind against your g-spot, tormenting the squishy patch over and over. your quivering hole spews waves of essence, bathing whatâs inside and what doesnât fit. much larger than your boyfriend â you hate to admit. âiâm here to finish the job that brat canât. heâs too tired to make this hole wet like itâs supposed to be.âÂ
in a frenzied and weak attempt, you shove hard at yuuji â sukunaâs solid his chest and even though, you like it so much, your hips try to squirm away but to no avail. the curse has you pinned against the bed by his taut abs mashing against your puffy pleasure nub. âp-please, d-donât!âÂ
âwhy not? because youâre scared you might be cheating on the brat?â sukuna leers down at you, predator on prey, and lifts you by the fat at your hips â pulling you back and forth on his erection as though youâre a rag doll. all you can do is moan whorishly, high and loud, because youâre overwhelmed at the weight of him brushing up against your sensitive spots. his cockhead ripe and raw red threatening to fill you with the cum broiling in his plump balls. they clap wetly against your ass the faster he moves. âheâs asleep, little human. he wonât ever know. just let me use this perfect cunt while iâm here. iâm tired of waiting around. let me show you how itâs done.âÂ
you shake your head ânoâ but everything else about you is screaming âyes!â. everything is so intense, harsher than tbh ever would be if it were your boyfriend. heâd never rough you up like this, wind that hot coil in your gut thrust after thrust. w-wait!â you cry lecherously, your body failing to fall in tune with the curseâs rampant rhythm. even though itâs bullying and harsh, itâs still coordinated enough to make you see stars. âoh godâŠ.â
the closer you get the more you succumb to the curseâs charm, falling under sukunaâs spell as he rocks you over the the length of him â your cream catches on the ridges that spiral down his cock. purple and blue veins pulsing with his own impending release, brought forth by yuuji earlier on. sukuna cages you in, chest to chest, your nipples brushing over his sturdy pecs and sweaty black markings before growling against your neck. his teeth brush over the skin, sharper than yuujiâs, but he doesnât dare leave a mark â only taunting you with the possibility of ripping your throat out.
you keep him close, shaky fingers raking through the undercut he shares with your boyfriend and easing into soaked pink hair â you yank as hard as you can, though youâre sure he feels no pain in comparison to your puny assault.Â
âthatâs right, pretty human. take it. use it. cum on it like the pretty cockhungry thing you are.â the loss of rhythm and control in sukunaâs lunging hips becomes too obvious to ignore, chasing his own high. like youâre nothing but a pocket pussy for the greedy curse to use after a millennia of sex starvation. you throb at the idea of cumming on him, for him â terrified by the guilt it may bring. though, you no longer fight the reckless sway of your hips up to meet his and you settle into his bruising grip â claws digging into the flesh at your hips.Â
your final straw is when the brutish curse lets his thick, saliva soaked tongue lave over your chest â curling around the underside of your boob to taste the perspiration that gathers there. you hiccup weakly at the sensation, throwing your head back into pillows saturated with your boyfriendâs scent whilst you scratch at sukunaâs scalp again. ââm⊠fuck! âm cumming â!â you announce, convulsing as the words come out and your juices splash between your folds, smearing all over sukunaâs tummy.
he does nothing but snarl like heâs won something, dark eyes lighting up with mischiefs and reward. âthatâs right, pretty human. cum for me like you couldnât for that insolent brat,â sukuna follows suit, barely holding on behind you, lifting you high off the bed as his cum pours into you hotly. thick; potent as it lines the entrance to your womb. you suction around him, pulling what spills out back in and he makes it stick â just barely managing to tug himself from your selfish entrance only to slam it further into you.Â
when sukuna is done⊠there is no kiss to calm you down or praises against your ear to tell you how well youâve taken him. instead, he draws back just enough to look at you â menacing yet magnificent. ruined by sex, yet pleased all the same. wearily, you blink up at him and blink away tears to avoid the shame unsure of what to expect or how frightened you should beâŠ
sukuna surprises you, brushing back your sweaty hair drowsily â on the verge of collapse as your boyfriend resumes control.
âsee you next time, little human.âÂ
he says carefully, eyes rolling back into his skull against his will.Â
a breath you hadnât realised you were holding makes its way out into the humid air. shaky because of his promise or his threat as he passes out on top of you.
you donât know how long you lay there, boneless underneath the heat and weight of⊠whatâs now yuuji. his markings long since faded. immense guilt gnaws at your nervous system and youâre afraid that if you talk, youâll break yuuji itadoriâs big heart. he softens inside you, wrapped in the warmth of your orgasm snd his thick cream â that came from him but spoke the claim of the ryomen sukuna. it feels nice, though foreign, you donât dare admit that you might have liked the trade off.
âwh-what happened?â groans your boyfriend when he finally comes to, lifting a fluffy pink head full of hair from your heaving chest. âdid you⊠did you finish already?â
âpassed out when you came with me,â you giggle and brush back his bangs. a sugar coated lie to keep his precious heart safe. âit was perfect. youâre perfect.â
itâs a weak narrative that you device to spin, one that yuuji runs with â believes in because your slick is running down his shaft that glistens with milky white precum and smears lazily over plush folds. he peppers innocent kisses across your wet cheeks, the promise of cleaning you up later hidden behind them. the action makes you shiver, not just because of how loved you feelâŠbut because of how much thrill seeking it is to have a sukuna watch you. make sure you play pretend just right.
end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesnât do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! â asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!
âż dark oloâeyktan!neteyam x innocent fem!human reader
wc, 3.8k .á
SUMMARY, when neteyam spots a human girl in the forest who smells suspiciously sweet, he canât help himself and brings her back to his clan â and when he catches loâak eyeing whatâs his, he gives him a small reminder on who the mighty warrior is.
â°â†WARNINGS, reader can breathe Pandora air/fem!receiving/kidnapping/jealousy/smut/obsession/size kink/ corruption kink/fingering/Neteyam being a pervert/possessiveness/lmk if I forgot anything!!//im rewatching afaa tmr in the cinema for the THIRD time and Iâm so excited to see Jake manspreading on the big screen againđ
â„ based off a request hope you enjoy it my angelđà§
part two here!!
âčâËâ§ïž”âżâàšá°à§ââżïž”â§Ëââč
When Neteyamâs father instructed him to go on a hunt in woods to get food for his clan, the young oloâeyktan never expected to find a pretty tawtute sleeping in the middle of the forest, surrounded by only the prettiest of flowers, practically blending in.
When he first laid eyes on you he almost mistook you for a doll â you were far too gorgeous to be a sky person, he thought to himself.
It was only when he saw your chest softly rise up and fall in a steady rhythm, a quiet sign of life, he came to the realisation that you were in fact not a doll. Perhaps an angel then?
Curious, he drew closer to your small laying figure, careful as to not step on any twigs that could wake you up. The more the oloâeyktan closed the distance between the two of you, the more the smell of sweet berries filled his nostrils. You had to be an angel, tawutes did not smell this sweet.
Now he knew he had to have you, you were his paskalin (sweet berry)
Normally Neteyam found humans very unappealing, strange-looking and alien, as well as that, they always had a weird scent stuck to them that he hated â so what was it about it you that made you smell so familiar, like home yet also like the most delicious of Pandoraâs fruits.
Who were you doll, and why was he not repulsed by you?
Did the great mother send you here herself? Did she intend for the two of you to cross paths?
Neteyam wanted to back away, resume to his hunt and return to his clan like he never saw you here in the first place but the second he sat down by your side, he couldnât leave. Several questions erupted in his head such as whether your skin was really as soft as it looked
With that thought, he gently put his large hand on your face, going over your angelic features and carefully tracing them with his fingertips. Yep, even softer than he had imagined. You looked so peaceful that it made him question what you were dreaming about.
It was like Neteyam was in some sort of trance, under some sort of spell, unable to look away as you slightly shifted in your sleep. You were so enchanting, just like an angel.
While he was in your presence all he could smell was berries, he checked if maybe it was the flora beside you that made you appear so sweet â but it wasnât. The unresistible scent was radiating off of your small body.
âWho are you tawtute?â Neteyam whispered in his language, mainly speaking to himself as his curious hands now travelled elsewhere. The tall naâvi wouldnât define it as touching you without your permission â no, he was just fascinated, it was more educational if anything and itâs not like he wouldnât have your permission soon enough anyway.
Because Neteyam always got want he wanted.
And his new fixation was you.
He could already imagine you sitting on his lap, grooming you into becoming his perfect little doll, keeping you safe from harms way as he, the oloâeyktan, gave to orders everyone in his clan. As the eldest son of Toruk Makto, his shoulders were always heavy with responsibility, constantly having to put others before himself, he never once got to be selfish but this time, with you, he would be. Neteyam knew that if he got to have one thing in this moment of selfishness, it had to be you.
He smirked at the plans he had just envisioned in his head â his greedy hands continuing to explore your body until they landed on your plump breasts. Shit, he cursed to himself, trying his hardest to control his desires at least until you regained consciousness. His gaze darkened, evident lust in his eyes as one of his hands went to cup your breasts through your baggy top.
They were incredibly soft yet full, nothing like the naâvi women he has been with before. They would make the most perfect pillow, the mighty warrior licked his lips as he once again imagined your future together. He could lay on your chest every night, he was sure that once you become his mate, his pretty doll, he would never have difficulty sleeping again. Of course there would be many sleepless night between the two of you, but that would be because of other reasons.
You were like one of those wrapped up sweets the sky people liked, he remembered them having a funny name, jolly ranchers was it? Norm would always bring them back for him and Loâak when they were younger. Yeah, you reminded him of them with all that strange clothing you had on. He couldnât wait until he could unwrap you and taste how sweet you are on his tongue.
He knew your delicous scent was only a small preview, just like he knew that it was only a matter of time before his little doll would rise from her slumber â so the best time to take you, would be now.
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
As Neteyam held your delicate body in his arms, carrying you back to his clan, he couldnât help but feel a rush of excitement, his oloâeyktan duties wouldnât be as uninteresting anymore â because heâd have you, his pretty doll by his side!!
The whole walk back Neteyam tried his hardest to resist the temptation of touching your small body that reeked of sweetness, he wanted to savour it for when youâd be awake so he could see your pretty eyes on him whilst he corrupted and ruined you for anyone else.
Soon enough, Neteyam had arrived at the village â the dirty thoughts of what he was going to do to you later giving him motivation to walk faster than his usual speed. As he walked he noticed the prying eyes of the Omatikayans on him because instead of returning with a massive piece of meat, heâd returned home with a tawtute in his arms instead.
Murmurs followed him as he moved through the clearing, their voices low but curious. As if it was his natural instinct, Neteyam adjusted his grip on the sleeping angel in his arms, holding you closer to his muscular chest. His tailed flicked in warning as his gaze swept the crowd.
You was under his protection now, and anyone that questioned it would answer to him. After all Neteyam was the oloâeyktan and was called the mighty warrior for a reason, a very good reason that no one dared to challenge him for, let alone question.
The whispers continued to ripple but Neteyam wasnât fazed, he carefully carried you the entire way, one arm secured beneath your legs, the other wrapped firmly around your back as he moved along the high paths with practiced ease. When he finally reached his hammock, he gently put you down, you were right were you belonged. And that was with him.
To stop himself from doing anything stupid, he tries his hardest to ignore your irresistible scent and lays his head on your chest, the sound of your heartbeat immediately calming him down. As always he was right, your rounded breasts did make an excellent pillow. Neteyam prayed to the great mother youâd wake up soon because he didnât know how much longer he could hold back from caressing his perfect little doll. He had to remain patient.
Patience â a virtue heâs been taught a lot about from a young age, something that bring the eldest son of Jake sully required him to have, yet all his morals felt like a distant dream as they faded more and more every second that he spent with you.
The mighty warrior froze when he felt you stir and move beneath him, every muscle going taut. His head lifted just enough to look down at you, breath caught in his throat as your lashes fluttered. The great mother has heard his prayers and his angel was awake. Your eyes were even innocent than oloâeyktan imagined, his loincloth immediately tightened at the lustful thoughts that once more began filling his head â by the next sunrise, heâd make sure that every ounce of innocence in you would be gone.
And heâd be the only thing in you.
âCalm sevin tawtuteâ he murmured in the little English he knew, attempting to communicate that you werenât his prey, no, you were something else entirely. Neteyamâs accent was thick and heavy, each word coming out slow and rough as if he was attempting to wrestle it into shape. You opened your mouth to say something, you had so many questions about where you were but you knew that he might struggle to answer them considering the language barrier, so you remained silent.
What a good girl, already knows when to shut her mouth, he thought to himself with a smirk growing on his face. He was going to have a lot of fun with you.
âCome paskalin.â
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Neteyam took you to have your attire exchanged for traditional naâvi clothing, while you felt very exposed and quite frightened at how little it covered, the mighty warrior couldnât be any more pleased, smiling to himself whilst watching two omatikaya women dress you up like the little doll you were.
When he saw you, now fully dressed in his peopleâs clothing, he almost forgot how to breathe. The garments made you look even more ethereal and showed off your curvy figure perfectly, especially your round breasts that you had noticed Neteyam staring at earlier but instead of looking away when he saw that heâd been caught â he just shot you another smile. This man really had no shame.
Although he saw how the men in his clan looked at you in your revealing outfit with your alien body that aroused curiosity, he did not care, he would show them who you belonged to soon enough. After all none of them were any real competition for Neteyam Sully because if you so much as fluttered your lashes and wished those men dead, he would kill them for you.
The mighty warrior couldnât understand what made you want to wear those ridiculous sky people scraps in the first place when your body was clearly much better suited to his that beads you currently had on. He had made them himself a long time ago for his future princess and now he finally had you!!
And he was never planning on letting you go.
When you questioned Neteyam (with the help of his human friend and translator spider) on why he brought you to his clan, he made up a story about how a creature was going to attack you and if he hadnât been there in time â you would have been dead. This quickly made you think of the warrior in a different light, you started to view him as your saviour so therefore you went along with all of his requests and didnât end up asking for more modest clothes. You also didnât dare to mention his touchy hands, this man saved your life, so what if he was a little touchy despite the two of you being practically strangers?
You havenât been around many naâvi before as you usually spent most days in the lab so perhaps this kind of behaviour was normal in their culture. Who were you to judge your protector?
Therefore you also didnât question it when Neteyam grabbed you by the back of your plush thighs and placed you onto his lap in front of the whole clan.
After all, he was the oloâeyktan as well as the man you owed your life to, he knew what was best, right?
This is exactly what the Omatikaya king wanted â to build this image of him in your head, painting himself as some sort of saviour and then grooming you into becoming his perfect doll. The most obedient little thing for your oloâeyktan. He knew that he couldnât spoil you too much though, he couldnât risk you becoming a spoiled brat.
He showed you off like some sort of prized possession while you sat on his lap, presenting you as his human mate, but you didnât know that. You could feel every glance, every whisper ripple through the circle but Neteyam wavered â his tail flickering with quiet authority. Then he noticed it, his younger brotherâs, attention lingering a moment too long, his eyes tracking your expressions and eyeing your small body with hunger in his gaze.
At this Neteyam gripped your waist even harder, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly as jealousy sparked sharp and suddenly in his chest. He hadnât even had the chance to properly introduce you to his brother yet Loâak already had the nerve to look at you that way. It was the same way he looked at the women that he spends his evenings with.
You were here because of Neteyam, on his lap, chosen, and he would make sure that his foolish baby brother and everyone else would do well to remember that because no one else gets to look at his mate like that without answering him.
As a dark idea popped into his head, once again a smirk appeared on his face â he knew exactly what to do.
Neteyam gently took you off his lap before standing up, his hands never leaving your waist as he guided you forward, his voice calm but edged with warning as he called Loâak over.
âBaby bro, have you met my sevin tawtute?â He spoke in his native tongue, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion and feel a bit of embarrassment at your lack of understanding despite living on Pandora for many years now. The mighty warrior never once loosened his hold on you as Loâakâs eyes flicked back to your doe ones, the same lingering interest was still there. Neteyam caught it almost immediately.
âNo I have not had the honour yet, brother.â He grinned while still looking down at you. âSuch a pretty little thing, isnât she? Bet Iâd accidentally snap her in half beforeââ
Loâakâs sentence was quickly cut off as Neteyam took a step forward, placing himself fully in front of you as if he was challenging his baby brother to continue what he was saying. The change in Neteyam was unmistakable, although you couldnât understand a word of what was being spoken, you knew that whatever Loâak said crossed a line.
How dare he speak about you, his precious little doll like that?
Did he not realise that you werenât some toy he had brought to fuck â you were his mate and tawtute or not, your scent was still the scent of an omega.
Before you knew it Neteyam was dragging you by the arm away from the clan, what was going on? You looked at him in confusion and a bit of fear in your eyes at how rough he was being, âNeteyam wâwhat happened, wâwhere are you taking me?â
At the sound of your voice breaking he immediately stopped and turned back to you, the anger was still tight in his prominent jaw but his eyes softened the moment they met yours. He exhaled, searching for the right words as his large hands went to cup your face, âI sorry paskalin, I no mean to scare you,â he tells you sincerely, his accent thick but voice gentle.
You appreciated that he attempted to speak English for you.
âIâItâs okay Tayemâ you reassured, his name still feeling foreign on your tongue. You wondered what his brother could have possibly said to make the oloâeyktan so angry.
Tayem? His adorable little angel made up a nickname for him?
He decided he was going to reward you right there and then for how good you have been being despite technically still being held hostage.
You gasp as the Omatikaya king drops to his knees before you, even when his knees touched the ground he still managed to tower over you. âTâTayem uhm whatâwhat are you doing?â you nervously ask but he doesnât answer you. You donât understand anything, one minute heâs rigid with fury, the next heâs lowering himself in front of you, eyes lifting to meet yours as if youâre the only thing anchoring him. Your question is quickly answered as he begins to tug at the hem of your loincloth.
âNeteââ you try to speak, but he doesnât let you, taking off your lower-body covering and tossing it aside.
âCalm down for me, sevinâ he murmured against your doll-like skin as he left wet kisses everywhere, worshiping you while also leaving marks â marking you as his. He makes sure to kiss your body everywhere first before moving down to where the sweet scent heâs been trying his hardest to resist all day came from.
âFuck all this for me?â He groaned, going back to speaking in his native tongue. He admires your puffy clit that is dripping with slick before sticking a finger in. You moan at the feeling of something that big entering you, unaware that itâs only one of his digits, your hole clenches around his finger as he pumps it in and out of your tiny hole. He needed to train it so that his dick would be able to fit inside you soon enough, although it might not be as easy as he had originally thought considering you were struggling to even take one of his digits.
You bit your lip, trying to muffle your sounds as the two of you were in public and still quite close to the clan, when Neteyam locked eyes with you, his gaze darkened and he shoved another finger in, stretching your hole even more, this made you cry out loud. How dare you try to conceal the beautiful moans that you were making for him?
How dare you try to ruin his plan?
Earlier when Neteyam saw the way his baby brother and the other men looked at you, he had envisioned doing exactly this in his head, pleasuring you so much that you forget every name except your owners. After all he did promise that by the end of the night your innocence would be gone and this was just the beginning.
His fingers were now fully coated in your sweet juices as he continued to play with your clit, your back arching when they curled inside. His pace sped up and tears started to well in your eyes when he hit that one spot. âNâNeteyam!â
Thatâs it doll, let everyone know who you belong to.
You almost sobbed when his fingers left your needy clit just as you were about to reach your orgasm, you felt so empty without him in you. You were about to beg and cry before his warm mouth attached itself onto where his fingers had previously been. âOh myâNeteyam!â
Now he knew for a fact that his clan didnât miss that.
âTell me paskalin, whoâs the mighty warrior?â You barely registered what he was saying to you as his words sent vibrations down your cunt causing you to pathetically whimper.
âYâYou!â
But there wasnât good enough, he needed everyone to hear, especially his brother.
âIâm what sevin?â
âYâYouâre the mâmighty warrior Neteyamm, yâyou!!â
At your words Neteyam feasted on your clit even harder than before.
Instinctively, your trembling thighs wrapped themselves around the mighty warriors head â pushing him even more in, your hands now going down to pull at his braids as his tongue explored your soaking folds, eating you out like a starved man. Every flick of his tongue made you cry out his name even louder than the time before, circling your clit and soon after sucking on it once more. âSo sweet tawtute, so good.â Upon hearing his voice, hearing him praise you, you thrusted your hips in his face.
He knew how close you were to finishing with the way that your legs started to give up â he also knew that he couldnât let any of your sweet juice go to waste when you did end up cumming on his face. He continued to tease at your entrance, his tongue now entering you just like his fingers had just a few minutes prior. One of the hands that he was using to keep your thighs open went up to play with your boobs under your top.
He had been so excited to taste you that he forgot to undress his doll completely.
âIâIââ
âCum for me sevin, let me taste your sweet juices.â
You screamed as you came on his face, his licks never stopping, gulping down everything they came out of your now stretched out hole. âO-Oh tayemmâ
He gently caressed your inner thigh as he cleaned up the mess between your legs, âIâm here my little doll.â
His mouth finally detached from your corrupted clit with a string of saliva. When the two of you locked eyes again Neteyam had the biggest grin on his face â flashing all of his pearly white teeth at you
The sweet moment was soon interrupted by the sound of a twig snapping..
Has someone seen watched you?
ââââ àšà§ ââââ
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