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TOJI FUSHIGURO. ꒱
listen to his voiceee. ⋆ cunt devouring. ⋆ massive size kink. ⋆ prone bone. ⋆ straddling his lap. ⋆ anal princess. ⋆ backshots. ⋆ pretty & shy girl blowjob. ⋆ pounding you in missionary.
CHOSO KAMO. ꒱
beneath the table. ⋆ cockwarming while he plays games. ⋆ squeaky girlfriend. ⋆ what a distraction. ⋆ pussy eating. ⋆ clit licking. ⋆ rubbing you off. ⋆ plap plap plap ! ⋆ tit worshipper.
NANAMI KENTO. ꒱
slow teasing. ⋆ soft choking. ⋆ ass groping. ⋆ kissing in lingerie. ⋆ somnophilia. ⋆ the vids he sends you at work. ⋆ warm & entwined. ⋆ gentle fingering. ⋆ rubbing your pussy for you.
GETO SUGURU. ꒱
slutty waist. ⋆ backshots. ⋆ love hate sex with your ex. ⋆ let me show you a trick. ⋆ ass eating. ⋆ hard pounding. ⋆ bathroom floor. ⋆ balancing on the wall. ⋆ rubbing you. ⋆ sideways.
GOJO SATORU. ꒱
dumbification. ⋆ backshots in a maid dress. ⋆ 69ing. ⋆ spread your legs & let him do his job. ⋆ taking it so well. ⋆ kinky shit p2. ⋆ tied & edged. ⋆ fucking in the backseat of his car.
SUKUNA RYOMEN. ꒱
schoolgirl fit (kunas ver.). ⋆ kidnapped. ⋆ personal use. ⋆ position goes crazy. ⋆ punishment in cuffs. ⋆ folded & munching your cunt. ⋆ rough fucking. ⋆ full nelson.
syn: different positions the tr men like to fuck you in
ft. ran, rindou, chifuyu, hanma, kazutora
cw: 18+ mdni, f!reader, ig technically public sex in hanma's, mutual masturbation (kazutora), mentions of creampie
a/n: a lil something bc i love y'all sm, going back to my roots with this one
p.s. my kazutora favoritism is showing with this one
❁ ran
sure he can win some fights with ease, but he tires easily and some days he just doesn't have the energy to keep up with you. it's not that he doesn't want to fuck you--because he craves you more than anything--it's just one of those days he want to lie back. but it's also an excuse to see in his favorite way. mounted on top of him while you hands splay across his chest, face contorting with pleasure as you chase your high. his hands run up and down your hips as you bounce a steady rhythm. his eyes are torn between looking at the way your pretty pussy sinks down around his cock and the way your tits bounce with each desperate grind of your hips. but what he loves most is watching from below as you crumble from your orgasm, crying out his name and fucking yourself through your high. he's no longer tired or lazy after that sight. he's greedy. it happens every time. he draws you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your back and rutting his hips into you. all while whispering how amazing you are into your hair.
❁ rindou
was there truly anything better than coming home late after a long day and seeing his favorite person lounging in bed, ass on full display and clothed with only your pretty panties? he stalks over to the bed, paying to mind to the video playing on your phone, and palms the soft mounds of your ass once he's within reach. it's impossible to keep your surprised yelp from escaping, but it dissolves into a soft giggle when you realize who's interrupted your adjusted nightly routine. he doesn't even bother taking off his clothes or what remains of yours. he doesn't even give you time for a proper greeting or to flip over for a moment. he just needs to be in you. hoisting you up to your knees and sinking in from behind as far in as he can reach, before pulling out to just the tip. he repeats the action a few times, until he can't take it any longer, the hunger he has for you taking over. it takes no time at all to build a quick pace, his hips meeting your ass. he's mesmerized by the way it moves with each of his pounding thrusts. he can't help but grabbed you roughly, squeezing and palming the soft flesh. before he knows it, you're fluttering around his cock, gripping the sheets and moaning his name. he slips out of you and decorated your ass in his cum. his second favorite site.
❁ chifuyu
it can't be denied that he's a bit of an eternal romantic. other positions are fun and exciting, but he'll always gravitate towards the classic missionary. it allows for an unmatched intimacy in his opinion. with your legs tangled in his, fingers digging into his shoulder blades, and lips meeting his kiss for kiss. the slow roll of his hips leaving you to gasp into his mouth, back arching ever so slightly. he loves looking down at you, with your eyes falling shut and head rolling back, soft moans pouring from your lips. the gentle caress of your face has your eyes fluttering open, meeting his awestruck expression. the hazy look in your eyes has his hips getting sharper. he coaxes one of your legs up to wrap around him. your head tilts back at the sudden friction against your clit, a sigh falling past your lips. he takes the opportunity with your exposed neck, attaching his lips to the sensitive spot there. he's there long enough to leave a mark. the moment you thread your fingers through his hair and tug, he's ready to cum. but he'll hold for however long it takes for you to get there. simply because he wants to reach that high with you at the exact same time, and he'd be damned if he got there before you.
❁ hanma
he's a busy man constantly at his office and sometimes until late in the night. on those nights, he wants nothing more than to see you, but the work seem to never stop piling up. but tonight's different. as if you sensed his thoughts, you show up to his office in comfortable clothes with takeout in hand--wholly intent on eating a very late dinner with him and keeping him company until he's ready to go home. but you have such a unique effect on him. no matter what you wore, he was always ready to pounce on you. as soon as you're within reach, he's tugging you into his lap, his chest pressing against your back. surely he can spare a few minutes to indulge in something far more enjoyable. with his lips on your neck, he makes quick work of your pants, sliding them down so you can kick them off the rest of the way. and then he's guiding you by your hips down the full length of his cock. he leans back in his chair, hand holding lightly to your sides as he urges you to move with a subtle roll of his hips. he loves watching you get yourself off on his cock. he’ll let you use him any time you want. because the feeling of being inside you, the sound of your pretty moans, all of it is too good to resist. he adores the way you clench around him as your orgasm approaches, fingers digging tightly into his thighs as you ride out your high. he can’t help the feeling that swells within him as you beg him to come inside you. nor can he help the feeling that swells with your little whimper when he tells you that you have to work for it.
❁ kazutora
even since before you started dating, he'd been nervous around you. it took him ages to ask you out. you were his first everything and he was afraid of letting you down. that nervousness hasn't stopped even after two years together. he's far from experienced and still worried he won't be able to satisfy you even with your reassurances. but one thing is for certain: he loves seeing your pleasure. being the one who caused it was one thing, but he actually realized it when he accidentally walked in on your fucking yourself with his name on your tongue. he'd never gotten so hard so fast in his entire life. it took him some time to bring up the idea of masturbating together and it surprised you, but you went along with it despite how flustered it made you. every so often, he'd suggest it, a desperate note to his voice. all day he couldn't get the image of you out of his head and the moment he stepped through the front door, he sought you out. the time in between was a blur all he wanted was what he had right in front of him. his eyes watch you as one of your hands rubs at your clit, the other toying with your breast. his hand is slow to stroke his cock, to consumed in watching unfold before him. his breathing grows ragged when you cum on your fingers, arching into your hand and his name on your lips. and suddenly he can’t take the ache anymore. his hand isn’t enough. all he wants is to be buried in the sweetness of your pussy. it’s messy but it’s still too good to complain.
a/n: guys?? gojo crumbs in the new episode made me do this uh i think i got some problems AHHAHAHAHAHAHAH
thinking about gojo being so big and tall it makes him look out of place in your home.
it is an essential part of his routine to hit his head against one of the wall cabin’s in your kitchen when both of you are cooking, or you cook and try not to get distracted by his antics.
and the way his ass hits the wall every time he bends down to spit the toothpaste into the sink never fails to make you giggle, a wide smile on your face as you watch him grumble about the cold marbles.
satoru sleeps on your bed diagonally because that way his legs fit in it too, although still a bit bent in the knees, and he brings you into that angle too, arms always wrapping around you whenever you are near(always).
it’s also a sight when he opens the fridge and has to crouch or basically fold in half to look properly. he does like it when you come from behind to rest your head on his to brainstorm about breakfast and when you walk under his arm to take something.
it’s not that your house is small, it’s certainly enough for one person, it’s just that gojo is so massive that it makes everything else around him look tiny and cartoonishly miniature.
and while satoru isn’t bothered at all, you always seem to overthink things like these, worrying if he’s really comfortable or just patient because he loves you.
“watcha doin’?” he asks as drapes himself over you on the couch. you huff and groan in discomfort while he makes himself comfortable. you end up face to face with him, your legs tangled with his and him holding your phone to see for himself. “lookin’ for a new couch?”
“yeah.”
“i thought you liked your couch,” satoru pouts looking over at the cushions. he drops the phone somewhere in between your bodies and wraps an arm around your shoulders to bring you closer to himself. “i like it too!”
his expression is so earnest you feel yourself smiling uncontrollably, hand moving up to cover it slightly.
“yeah but i want you to be comfortable here, satoru!”
“i’m always comfy when i’m with you, y’know? it’s kinda the effect you have on me.”
your eyes widen at his words as you suddenly start feeling very small under his attentive gaze. gojo’s smile stretches further, hand cupping the side of your face gently to angle your face towards his, not letting you hide.
“i feel good when i’m at your place because it’s so full of you.”
he presses a kiss to your forehead, dipping his head low to rub his cheek against yours affectionately as he giggles along with you.
“i love staying here so much it makes me wonder if we should spend more time at my place.”
you look up at him questioningly as he rubs his chin in deep thought, brows furrowing cutely as he thinks something over and over before finally looking down at you a few seconds later.
“it just feels like home is where you are.”
satoru makes love look and sound so easy, you always wonder how he manages to do that. it’s easy to love him and have him love you, easy to accept his love and give it to him yourself.
that’s just the way he is, and you guess that it’s probably easier for him because he puts effort into making it that way. making you understand that he loves and loves and loves you.
your hands cup his cheeks as you look up at him in adoration.
“aren’t you the sweetest?”
satoru leans into your touch, gripping you tighter, as he rubs his nose with yours, making you pull away abruptly with a few flustered chuckles escaping you.
“so i’ve been told, heh.”
he continues his assault, adding wet kisses and unexpected pinches into the mix as he relishes in the sounds of your laughter, the discomfort of the relatively small couch once again forgotten just like your idea to buy a new one.
🍓 pairing: neteyam x human fem reader
🍓tags: nsfw, aged up neteyam (obviously), jealousy, alien cultural misunderstandings, oral sex (f receiving) vaginal sex, size kink, voyeurism, brief na'vi oc x reader, mentions of reader sleeping with other na'vi men
masterlist
reblogs are always enormously appreciated!
notes: okay i had to split this into two parts because it surpassed the tumblr word limit 🙃 here’s part 1, and I’ll post part 2 in a day or two!
adult neteyam art created by the incredibly talented @cinetrix, whose work motivated me to write for adult neteyam in the first place!!
The tsahìk’s hut is cool and dark, offering a much needed reprieve from the hot balmy air of the day outside. It’s been a quiet day for you, though you can’t complain about that; it’s a pleasant change of pace from the usual hectic rush of people that usually pass through.
It’s one of the rare days that Mo’at has left you to tend to the duties of the healing hut alone; it had taken years to reach this level of trust with her, and you find yourself almost deliriously proud to be able to help out. Na’vi medicinal practices are very different to human ones, but your training in first-aid has given you enough knowledge and experience to hold your own when it comes to helping out with the smaller day-to-day ailments that tend to pass through the healing hut.
Besides, you’re always happy to give Mo’at a break. She had claimed that she needed time to commune with Eywa, though secretly you suspect that she just likes to take some time to herself in her old age. But that’s fine – you’ve always found helping out in the healing hut soothing, and your heart swells at the fact that Mo’at trusts you enough to leave you in charge, even if it’s only for a few hours.
It also helps when your patient is a big, hunky alien warrior with more muscles than brains, who sits in front of you as you smear a herbal paste over the scratches he had gotten in training earlier that day.
Txeyto is not an easy patient; he flinches when you prod his wounds, whines when you clean them, and complains as you smear the paste on his scrapes. It’s a little irritating, but the sight of his big broad shoulders and chiselled abdomen is enough to soothe the worst of your aggravation.
“Are you nearly finished?” Txeyto complains, flinching away from your fingers once more.
You bite your tongue and force a smile. Patience has never been your strong suit, and Txeyto is certainly testing the short reserves you have left. But he’s very handsome, and very skilled at archery, and you feel that his physical attractiveness outweighs the minor personality flaws.
“Yes, just another few moments.” You murmur, keeping your voice low and soothing as though speaking to a child.
Txeyto settles a little when you use the baby voice on him, and you struggle to keep your face blank at the ridiculousness of it all. Men are such children, even the big strong Na’vi warriors that should be above such behaviour. He’s lucky he’s handsome.
“How did you get these injuries, hm?” You ask, using a light touch to dab some of Mo’at’s specially formulated healing paste onto his scrapes. You keep your fingers as gentle as possible, but Txetyo still winces dramatically.
He perks up at your question, his tails swaying low over the floor where you’re both sat cross-legged. “I have been training very hard. I am one of the best archers in the village now.”
“No doubt.” You murmur distractedly as you work.
“But it is important for a tsamsiyu to be competent in many forms of combat, so I must practice my hand-to-hand combat also,” Txetyo continues, apparently forgetting to wince now that he’s talking. “Neteyam has been helping me train.”
Ah. You can’t help the face you make at that, and you’re thankful that Txeyto’s back is facing you so that he can’t see your expression. You also can’t help the way you cast a quick glance towards the entrance to the hut, as though worried that simply speaking the name aloud will summon Toruk Makto’s eldest son.
“Is that right?” You say, keeping your tone carefully neutral. “So, he’s the one that got you all scraped up like this?”
Txetyo’s shoulders flex under your hands, and you realise without looking at his face that you’ve stung his pride.
“I scraped him up also.” He grumbles, shifting to try and peer over his shoulder. “They are wounds to be proud of, as I got them in combat.”
You don’t think that a couple of minor scratches from wrestling around in the mud with one of the village’s biggest dickheads count as combat wounds, but you don’t argue. You just hum non-committedly, paying more attention to his bruises than is entirely necessary.
“You should be careful,” You say instead, running your fingers carefully over one of the bruises discolouring the pretty blue skin of his defined bicep. “It’s a shame to see these lovely muscles all bruised up.”
There’s a long moment’s pause. It seems as though the cogs in Txetyo’s head are working slowly, because he seems to be struggling to understand your flirty tone of voice. But when it finally seems to click, he turns his head to peer at you with wide, curious eyes.
“Ah,” He says, his shoulders squaring as he seems to preen. “You like them?”
God, he really is a little dumb. But that’s okay. You don’t necessarily need a man with brains.
“Mhmm,” You hum, allowing your hand to rest on the bulge of his bicep. “I like strong men.”
That’s true, if a little bit of an oversimplification. You’ve lived as a human on Pandora your whole life, but it was only in recent years since you’ve reached adulthood that you’ve started really paying attention to the people around you. And good lord, you had some impressive specimens to look at.
You find yourself drawn to their athletic and toned bodies, their radiant blue skin, their cat-like grace and agility. Maybe it’s because you had grown up on Pandora with no humans your age other than Spider, but you find yourself especially drawn to your size. The sheer size of their hands alone are enough to fluster you, especially when your brain is flooded with images of those big hands in other contexts.
And luckily for you, there’s no shortage of Na’vi that are interested in experimenting with humans, too.
Txetyo visibly perks up, his ears twitching forward as he finally seems to notice the way your much smaller hands are lingering on his body as you patch him up.
“I am very strong.” He says, tail thumping against the ground.
You fight the urge to sigh. He’ll never make a great conversationalist, but that’s alright. He’s big and strong and handsome, and you just want to relieve some tension.
“I know.” You murmur, your lips quirking a little as you shuffle around so that you’re kneeling in front of him, your knees pressed close to his thighs. “But I could still kiss your scratches better, if you’d like.”
Kissing wounds better is definitely a human colloquialism that Txetyo doesn’t understand, judging by the furrow of his brow, but he doesn’t seem to care. He reaches out and wraps a big hand around your waist, and you feel a pulse of arousal low in your belly in response.
“You like my muscles so much that treating my wounds has aroused you?” He asks, the smugness in his voice impossible to miss.
His pompousness is a little irritating, but you can ignore that because his hands are big and warm and it’s exciting to feel his palm start to push its way under your cotton tank top. The few Na’vi men you’ve been with before had been absolutely fascinated with the soft squishiness of your human breasts, so your breath hitches in anticipation as his hand reaches up to grope at your tits over your bra.
Okay, you can probably admit that you’re a little pent up. It’s probably a terrible idea to allow Txetyo to feel you up like this in the middle of the healing hut, but you’re horny.
If you’re telling the truth, you’ve been hoping for a chance like this all week – but there’s one thing, one irritation, that has been preventing you by interrupting every damn chance you’ve gotten alone with any man.
In fact, you’ve been interrupted so often and so many times that you’re almost expecting it, even as Txetyo’s big hands squeeze at your tits. He’s a little rough with it, but he’s so much bigger than you that you suppose that’s unavoidable – besides, his strength only adds to the thrill.
Then, just like clockwork, as though there’s some kind of sensor that goes off whenever you’re about to get some, there’s a rustling sound by the entrance of the hut before the little woven drape covering the doorway is pulled back.
And then, who else would be standing there, but Neteyam. One of the few people on the whole planet that can actually ruin your whole day just by showing his stupid face.
His eyes find you, but his expression doesn’t change as he glances over your flustered expression and the hand that Txetyo still has shoved up your top. He tilts his head, and it feels as though he’s examining every damn detail all at once; the ointment smeared all over Txetyo’s bruises from training, the way you’ve shuffled so close to Txetyo that you’re practically straddling his thigh, your unsteady breathing behind your mask.
“Ah. Am I interrupting?” He asks with a hint of wry humour to his voice, as though he hasn’t interrupted every attempt at getting laid you’ve made this month.
It has to be on purpose. That, or he has some sort of nearly supernatural sense for when you’re horny, because he always seems to show up every goddamned time. Somehow it’s gotten worse in the last few weeks, too. You’ve barely been able to get a moment alone with whoever you’ve been chatting up before Neteyam has appeared, snapping at them to get back to training or duties or whatever lousy excuse he’s been able to come up with in the moment.
“What do you want?” You snap, impatient and too strung tight to waste your energy on pretending at politeness.
A very delayed reaction finally hits Txetyo, and he scrambles to remove his hand from the inside of your top. His hand alone is so large that the outline of it is painfully obvious even through your shirt, and you close your eyes with a sigh as he clumsily pushes himself away from you in a rather ungainly attempt at pretending nothing was going on.
“Neteyam!” He blurts, his ears flattening against his skull. He’s clearly mortified at being caught in such a position by Toruk Makto’s son, and he overcompensates by attempting to scoot away as though he hadn’t even been touching you.
You try not to roll your eyes – you’re used to this, after all. You’ve been with several Na’vi men, but they all seem to have the same sort of embarrassment about actually being open with the fact that they’ve hooked up with you. You can’t be all that annoyed about it, you suppose. You understand where it’s coming from. You’ve been around the Omaticaya your whole life, and while the taboo of having Sky People around has faded somewhat, that doesn’t mean that anyone is actually willing to admit that they’ve been with you.
You’re used to it. It’s fine. You’re just a little mortified that Neteyam is currently witnessing the scramble for Txetyo to get away from you.
He’s watching the other man with his head still tilted to the side, his big golden eyes dark in the cool shade of the hut. A muscle in his jaw is flexing, like he’s trying not to laugh.
“I will- I will see you later?” Txetyo whispers to you as he stands. He probably intended for his voice to be low enough that it stayed between just you and him, but the hut is quiet enough that there’s no doubt Neteyam can hear him just fine.
“Mhm. Yeah.” You murmur back, watching Txetyo’s big broad back as he steps away from you, all hasty and flustered.
Txetyo gets as far as Neteyam, who’s still standing with his arms crossed in the doorway. Neteyam doesn’t so much as shift, his eyes dragging with lazy satisfaction over the myriad of scrapes and bruises that he had left on Txetyo during their sparring earlier.
Txetyo shifts on his feet, visibly nervous in the face of his future chief’s judgement. “Ah… Will we train again tomorrow, Neteyam?”
Neteyam hums non-committedly, before finally stepping away from the doorway. He brushes past Txetyo, and you wonder if he’s always so dismissive of his fellow warriors or if he’s just being an even bigger dickhead today for some reason.
“We will see.” Neteyam says shortly, though he’s not even looking Txetyo’s way.
Taking that as the dismissal it so clearly is, Txetyo nods awkwardly before disappearing out of the hut, leaving you and Neteyam alone.
For a long moment, you do your best to avoid looking up. You’re beyond irritated right now, made so much worse by the fact that your panties are kind of wet and you’re so fucking desperate for attention right now. The little wooden bowls knock together clumsily as you try to arrange them without looking up, but it becomes difficult when Neteyam lowers himself down to sit opposite you.
“The tsahìk’s hut is a bold place for such activities.” He says, and you don’t have to look up to know that there’s a stupid smug look on his face. “What would my grandmother think?”
As he sits down, he places a woven bag by your knee. You don’t need to look at it to know what it is; he’s always bringing stuff to the healing hut for his grandmother. Herbs or medicinal plants, fibres for weaving bandages, even animal bones that he had whittled down for needles for suturing.
Even you can grudgingly admit it’s thoughtful; but he only ever seems to bring it when you’re around. It’s like he just wants to rub it in your face that he excels at everything he does – it’s extremely annoying.
You finally look up, your face already scrunched in a scowl. “What do you want?”
He raises his hairless brows at you, an expression he no doubt learned from his father. “I would like my cuts from training treated. What else would I be here for?”
And now you know that he’s just messing with you, because while Txetyo was covered in bruises and abrasions from his tough training session earlier, Neteyam doesn’t have a single visible scratch.
“What exactly am I supposed to treat?” You ask, voice tight.
Neteyam shifts, proffering you his shoulder, and you see a single scrape along his otherwise flawless striped blue skin. You purse your lips, staring at it in mild disbelief.
“You can’t be serious.” You say, deadpan.
But it’s clear that Neteyam is serious, because he’s already stretching out on the comfy woven rugs of his grandmother’s hut as if he belongs there. It’s obvious that he has no intention of moving – he must have come here just to torture you.
You blow out a frustrated breath, the inside of your respirator mask fogging up briefly before rapidly clearing. Neteyam is infuriating. He gets under your skin in a way that no one else does, as though he knows every goddamn little button to press just to aggravate you.
Maybe it’s just a by-product of having been raised as next in line to lead the Omaticaya, or of being Toruk Makto’s oldest son, but you’ve always found Neteyam closed off and distant.
Truthfully, you can’t say for certain if he’s always been this way. When you were young teenagers, you hadn’t had much contact with him; he was always busy with his own training, and then the whole Sully family had left for Awa’atlu. When they had returned, several years later, Neteyam had been more reserved, and yet somehow even cockier and more confident than ever.
“I don’t understand you. There’s no need for you to get this scrape seen to, and you know it. You just like wasting my time.”
He just watches you as you complain, his eyes hooded and dark in a way that honestly leaves you a little heated. He doesn’t deny it, which only irritates you further. You knew he was just trying to annoy you!
“It’s your job to treat wounds when you’re here, isn’t it?” He asks, and you can see the way his tail is lazily undulating behind him, skimming across the woven carpet. He’s enjoying arguing with you.
You huff out a put-upon sigh, before grabbing two of the jars. The ointment is naturally antiseptic but it goes on with quite a sting; you try not to feel satisfied about that as you coat your fingers in it before dabbing it onto the scrape on Neteyam’s shoulder. You’re not as gentle as you’d usually be either, your patience is too thin for you to be considerate with him right now.
But this is not Txetyo. This is Neteyam, and he doesn’t so much as flinch as you rub the paste over his still sluggishly bleeding scratch, even though you know it must sting. You try not to feel irked by his stoicism.
As you work, Neteyam’s head rolls back. In a move that’s almost imperceptible, his nostrils flare and he scents the air. You assume it’s the fairly astringent scent of the herbal paste you’ve just pulled out that’s bothering him, and you raise an eyebrow at him.
“Problem?”
His lips quirk, though he manages to keep his expression neutral. “No. I am simply enjoying being under your tender care.”
You narrow your eyes at him. He’s mocking you now.
The fact that he had walked in on Txetyo’s hand up your top as he groped at your tits feels like a heavy unspoken weight in between you as you dab at his minor wound. You keep waiting for him to bring it up, to laugh at you for it, but he remains stubbornly quiet as you work, his golden eyes watching you in quiet contemplation.
In fact, he’s never brought up any of the times he’s interrupted you right before you got with someone. He’s caught you in varying levels of undress, with Na’vi men over you, under you, holding you, touching you, kissing you, but somehow just before anything good actually happened. Every time the men had scrambled away from you as though you were something diseased, mortified at being caught with a tawtute by Neteyam, a man that (for some reason you can’t comprehend) they seem to have an awful lot of respect for.
In the beginning, you were inclined to come up with excuses for him; he was Jake Sully’s oldest son, and was inevitably going to keep track of his peers and where they disappeared off to when they had duties that they should be attending to. But now, you think he’s doing it to spite you specifically. It might be a bit of a self-centred thing to believe, but you’re almost certain of it.
You shift on your knees beside him, raising yourself up a little to ensure that you’ve covered all parts of his scrape. You don’t want him returning tomorrow to complain that you didn’t do a good job.
You have to bite back another sigh as you do so, your thighs rubbing together in a way that sends a sharp jolt up your spine. You’re horny and needy and so, so resentful of the fact that you’re now treating the same man that’s the direct cause of your state right now.
Neteyam’s attitude wasn’t the only thing that changed in his time away, however. You have to keep your eyes fixed carefully on his bruising shoulder, because if you didn’t you know that your gaze would wander, and that’s a dangerous game to be playing in the presence of someone as perceptive as Neteyam.
But it’s difficult not to look. Time and ocean air has been kind to him; he’s grown as tall as his father, and whatever sort of training or work he had been doing with the Metkayina has resulted in broader shoulders and a more sturdy build than is typical of the Omaticaya. It’s galling to admit, and makes you feel as though you’ve eaten something sour and unpleasant, but Neteyam is hot as hell.
He might be aggravating and smug and too cocky, but no one in their right mind could deny that he’s attractive. Not even you. Especially you, if you’re being honest with yourself, considering your penchant for enormous blue alien men that could snap you in two with a pinkie if they felt so inclined.
God, you really have to think about something else. You’re so wet that your panties are starting to get uncomfortable, so you focus determinedly on the resentment that’s still simmering over the fact that Neteyam had interrupted what was promising to be a very productive encounter with Txetyo.
Neteyam shuffles a little where he’s sitting in front of you, and your eyes track the way his muscles bunch and shift under his vibrant blue skin. Damn, but seeing Na’vi musculature up close never gets old, even if it’s Neteyam.
You’re almost finished with dabbing paste on the tiny scrape (and you hate to admit that it had taken you longer than it should have due to your distraction), when Neteyam half-turns his head towards you.
“My back is sore, also.” He murmurs, though his eyes remain downcast.
You pause, staring at him. “Okay. And?”
There’s a moment where the two of you just look expectantly at each other. When nothing comes of that, Neteyam speaks again.
“You are playing healer today, are you not?” He asks, and his left ear twitches oddly. “Or is your attention all reserved for Txetyo, hm?”
Your cheeks heat in humiliation and your jaw clenches. You knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself from making some sort of stupid comment.
“Lay down.” You snap, prickly and embarrassed.
“Yes ma’am.” Neteyam purrs, probably all satisfied that he’s gotten under your skin. He reclines, all of those lithe muscles flexing and bunching as he rolls over onto his stomach.
You grab another pot of ointment, and then take a moment to steady yourself.
You know that he’s winding you up on purpose, just like always, but you can never figure out why. He doesn’t treat you like any of the other men in the village do – they might enjoy fucking you, but they’re rarely caught dead in public with you, worried about what it might mean for their own reputations.
Neteyam is bolder, more confident; though the burden of responsibility that he carries is unmistakable, he never seems to get caught up with the petty whispering and musings of the village people. It’s just unfortunate that he seems so set on bothering you.
Your mouth goes dry as your eyes drop mindlessly over the expanse of his long, pretty back. His skin is stretched tight over lithe muscle, little luminescent white freckles glinting like little stars. He looks so smooth, though the flawlessness of his body is marred by thick pale scars that litter his skin, courtesy of the near legendary battle with the RDA that you hear happened off the coast of Awa’atlu.
You glance down, flustered. Fuck. It would be so much easier to hate him if he wasn’t physically perfect.
“Problem?” Neteyam’s voice is a little lower in register than it was before, perhaps because he’s lying on his stomach with his head pillowed under his crossed arms.
You twitch. Shit. You had gotten distracted, and had lost yourself staring at him.
“No. Shut up.” You blurt reflexively, dipping your fingers into the oily ointment used for easing sore muscles.
Neteyam huffs quietly, a sound that could be a grunt or a laugh, but doesn’t bother responding. It makes you feel as though you’ve lost a game you didn’t know you were playing.
Antsy and on edge, you lean forward and survey his strong back properly. When he's laying out in front of you like this you can see the way his back is knotted with tension and his shoulders are hiked up around his ears. It doesn't look too bad, but it can't be comfortable either.
You take one more moment to admire the musculature of his shoulders, before gathering yourself and dipping your fingers into the ointment. It's balmy against your fingers and smells a little bit like blueberries, and begins to tingle when your hand is entirely coated.
"Where does it hurt most?" You ask, your voice quiet.
In the silence, you can hear Neteyam’s throat click when he swallows.
"My neck and shoulders." When he speaks, his voice is a little deeper than expected.
The very first touch to Neteyam’s back pulls a quiet sigh out of him; it sounds like relief.
Considering his size, it takes surprisingly little to have him melting under your hands. Your fingers spread under his scapula, finding a knot in the muscle and pressing in hard. It takes a bit of finagling, but after some firm pressure you feel the muscle begin to soften beneath your touch.
Gaining confidence, you return your kneading fingers to his neck. He really is terribly tense, and shivering spasms flit up and down the muscles of his back in regular intervals as you drag the warm palms of your hands over him. As your fingers work into his tense muscles, he lets out quiet little grunts that are muffled by the cradle of his arms.
“Why were you so hard on Txetyo during training?” You ask as your fingers dig into the tense tissue of his back. Your voice is unintentionally loud in the quiet of the hut. “He looked as though he had been attacked by a thanator when he was here earlier.”
Neteyam just grunts. “Txetyo is an overconfident skxawng. He is not nearly as skilled as he thinks he is.”
You click your tongue, dissatisfied with that answer. “I could say the same about you.”
Just like all your attempts to insult him, your words seem to bounce right off him. Stupid thick-skinned bastard. His pretty mouth tilts up in a smile.
“I have the skills to back it up, paskalin.”
Your lips purse at the name, your cheeks hot. God, he’s such an asshole.
When you exert pressure as you run your fingers down his spine, Neteyam grunts softly into his arms. The sound is startling in the quiet, interrupting the steady rhythm of your quiet breathing.
"Does that hurt?" You ask. Your voice comes out a little shakier than you’d like.
"No." Neteyam’s voice comes out in a low, gravelly rumble. The sound of it almost startles you into snatching your hands away, but you manage to refrain yourself. "Keep going."
You just swallow thickly, and try to keep yourself on task. “He just wants to be better. He was excited to train with you–”
“Lower.” Neteyam groans, shifting under your hands.
You clench your teeth. Really, you should probably just walk away from him. There’s no real need for you to be doing any of this. He’s not even injured, and who knows whether he’s telling the truth about his back being tense.
But you’re stupid, and you’ve never been good at walking away, from either fighting or fucking. This strange encounter feels as though it lies somewhere in the middle of those two things. Your palms drag down to his lower back, and he flinches briefly before melting under your touch.
His body is so big that it’s difficult to get a good angle to knead properly at his tense muscles, and before you can think too hard about it you swing your leg over his hips. You settle back, perching your weight cautiously at the base of his spine.
It's a braver move than you would usually make, but you try not to second-guess yourself — like this, you have so much more leverage to rub at the rigid sinews of his back. You drag your knuckles down the length of his spine and he groans into the cradle of his arms.
You try to ignore the excited flutter in your belly. It’s just Neteyam. You’re not actually getting turned on from this; the only reason you’re so affected is because you had been horny with Txetyo. You shift where you’re sitting on his back, but you have to force yourself still almost immediately, because the friction nearly makes your lungs seize.
“Comfortable?” Neteyam murmurs, and you can hear amusement in his voice.
“Shut up.” You say reflexively, before scowling. “I can’t believe you interrupted me and Txetyo just for this. You have, like, one bruise–”
“It’s a very sore bruise.” He murmurs lazily, sounding unbothered. “Do you think squeezing your tits might help? That seemed to help Txetyo feel better.”
You pause, jaw dropping in indignation. “I– shut up!”
Neteyam makes a noise that sounds like a snicker, and you dig your fingers down the planes of his back vengefully. His waist narrows into an elegant taper, and when you reach the part of his back where his ass begins to swell, you exert firm pressure against the base of his tail.
If you had done it to a human, you know it would have hurt. But instead the tightness of the muscle unfurls under your fingers, and Neteyam gives a long, low groan. The sound is delightfully gravelly, and you take a breath as you feel molten heat ooze down into your belly and settle between your legs. It’s not a reaction you had been expecting.
You sit back onto his lower back, avoiding his tail. From here, you have a truly captivating view of how slick his back looks from the ointment, and how his skin glows in the dim light of the hut. His body really is perfect, and your eyes track over the taut shiny scars that litter his skin.
“Mmm. May I get up? Or do you want to sit on me a little while longer?” Neteyam’s low voice breaks you out of your stupor, and you’re horrified to find that you’ve just been sitting there with your wet panties pressed against his back beneath your thin shorts.
You scramble off him quickly, flustered and clumsy. It had been a bold move to straddle him in the first place, and now you feel very stupid about it.
“You should apologise to Txetyo.” You blurt, just to say something into the silence.
“Why are we still talking about Txetyo?” Neteyam has always been a relatively tolerant and even-keeled man, but you can hear irritation beginning to bubble up in his voice.
“Because–” You start to say, but then Neteyam rolls over so that he’s laying on his back.
Now that he's lying on his back, stretched out all long and lithe, your eyes rove over his face and then down his throat, his chest, his stomach, his hips. Your eyes catch on the protrusion between his legs and stick there, your mouth dropping open in surprise when you see that his loincloth is tented.
“Because- he… you were too–” You try valiantly to finish your sentence, but your thoughts have scattered to the wind.
He’s hard. Why the fuck is he hard? Is that just from you rubbing his back? Oh my god, what are you supposed to say? It feels like his hard-on is staring at you.
Neteyam pushes himself up into a sitting position, his hands planted on the woven rug behind him as he pushes himself up so that he’s sitting looming over you. Once he’s upright, Neteyam flexes his shoulders and groans slightly as he goes. It doesn't sound like a pained groan, thankfully.
The movement brings him closer to you than you had been expecting, and you end up freezing. Like this, you can see the way his expression has smoothed into one of relief. His shoulders are looser too, no longer held bunched up around his neck.
Neteyam doesn't seem to notice your close proximity, nor the way you have tensed at the lack of space between them. You’re not touching, but you’re so close that you swear you can physically feel the air between you.
“If Txetyo is so upset about being beaten by me in training, then he should focus on getting better instead of slinking away with his tail between his legs and trying to screw you in a corner of my grandmother’s hut.”
You gape at him like an absolute idiot, floored by the acerbity in his tone. You’ve always thought Neteyam was a bit of a dickhead, but that was mostly because of his nearly insufferable need to always be the best. Always the best warrior, the best son, the best brother, the best future Olo’eyktan. The best role model to his peers.
“So that’s what this is about.” You say, your voice coming out distinctly accusatory. “You don’t like that your friends are fucking a human, is that it?”
Neteyam doesn’t even bother answering. He just rolls his now loosened shoulders and watches you carefully. He doesn't tell you to back off, or wrinkle his nose at you, or act as though he's repulsed by you. He just stares at you across the miniscule space between you, and that only angers you further.
“Is that why you keep interrupting whenever I’m with any of the other tsamsiyu?” You demand, fists clenching. “What, you don’t like that your friends find a tawtute attractive? Is that why you keep cockblocking me?”
Neteyam huffs a quiet snort, as though he thinks you’re being stupid.
“I hear what some of the Na’vi in the village say, about how it’s shameful to be with a tawtute.” You hiss. “I just didn’t think you’d be one of them.”
And if you’re honest with yourself, it sort of hurts. Neteyam has always gotten on your nerves with his confusing mix of overconfidence and jagged insecurities, and he had really infuriated you when he had started to interrupt all of those illicit little meetups you had planned with some of the boys in the village, but you hadn’t actually thought that he had any disdain for you like some of the other Na’vi.
And then you do something so stupid that it shocks even you.
Your eyes drop back down to the tent in his tewng, eyeing it thoughtfully, before reaching out and running your fingers over the hardened outline of his cock through the fabric with purpose.
Neteyam hisses, and his hips actually lift off the floor in an attempt to follow your touch.
“God, you’re a hypocrite, aren’t you?” You breathe, fighting to keep your voice casual. “How can you judge your friends for fucking around with me when you’re this hard after just a backrub?”
“They’re not my friends.” Neteyam grunts, his jaw clenching as his head tilts back. His hips rock into your hand.
Your touch goes firmer, and then your hand slips under his loincloth. You’ve had plenty of sexual encounters with Na’vi men, but this is different.
This is Neteyam. This encounter feels like proving a point. A very sexually charged point.
His cock is silky smooth and hot to the touch, and you feel a little drunk as your fingers close around it. And damn, it feels big. All Na’vi cocks are big compared to your hands, but this… feels different. You were aroused anyway, you’ve been feeling pent up all damn week, but now that your hand is on his dick your nerves are fizzing up.
It’s a surprise when Neteyam’s big hand settles on your waist to tug you closer, and you feel your stomach swoop when he pulls you forward. You don’t release his cock even as he pulls you to settle over one of his thighs, your legs slotted in between his, and you can feel him harden even further beneath you.
You wonder absently if it's really you that's causing his very obvious arousal or if it's just a natural consequence of the massage; either way, when his hips flex up towards you, they press right in between your legs.
You shiver almost violently, the sensation of him pressing hot and hard against your core frying your nerves and wiping your thoughts clean. The part of your brain that had been screaming about what a bad idea this whole thing is has become muffled now, and your own hips jerk against his.
“You’re such an asshole,” You say, though your voice comes out reedy and breathless. “You of all people don’t have a right to talk shit about those guys just cause they’re into humans, especially when your cock is this hard, and especially considering where your dad came from–”
He lets out a soft, quiet noise as you move against him, and uses his grip on the back of your top to pull you tighter against him yet again. “Don’t talk about my father when you have my cock in your hand.”
It takes what feels like a monumental effort to wrench your hand away from him, and he lets out a wordless grunt of dissatisfaction as his hips twitch in an effort to follow your hand. It’s delightfully pathetic, and you feel your ego swell at the sheer sense of power that washes over you; it’s a rare feeling, especially when you’re faced with a big blue alien almost twice your size.
“You should apologise to Txetyo.” You sound like an out of breath idiot. “It’s not like you can judge him for being with a tawtute when you’re that hard from me just touching you.”
Neteyam just stares at you, his jaw clenching and his honey eyes dark as he takes several breaths through his nose. You’ve never seen him like this before; you’ve never seen any of the men you’ve been with like this before. It looks as though he’s holding onto a thin veneer of control, and you wonder if he’s angry with you, if you’ve perhaps pushed him too far.
“That was never the issue.” He says and fuck, his voice has gone so gravelly. “And don’t pretend that you’re not wet beneath those clothes of yours. I can smell it.”
Your thighs squeeze together as you swallow hard, struggling to maintain your aura of indifference and no doubt failing.
“That’s because of Txetyo.” You say, and it tastes like a lie on your tongue. “You interrupted us.”
Neteyam laughs quietly and humourlessly. His expression suggests that he doesn’t find anything about this conversation funny, and his hand is still splayed across your back. You’re so damn conscious of how big his palm is as it spreads across your spine. Why the hell hasn’t he let go of you yet?
“Ah, I see.” Neteyam murmurs. “You would have fucked him in my grandmother’s hut?”
Your mouth is so damn dry, and you swallow compulsively. “It’s not any of your business who I fuck.”
Neteyam’s smile is grim. “Txetyo would fuck his own shadow if he were nimble enough to catch it. You have terrible taste in men.”
You rear back. You’re surprised by how much that hurts. Living as a human on Pandora is lonely, and it’s not like you have people lining up outside the human outpost looking to spend time with you. If you want any sort of companionship or intimacy, you have to accept any attention that you can get. And sure, most of that attention comes from men that only want to get their dicks wet, or the experience of being with a tawtute, but it’s better than nothing at all.
“Well, we can’t all be the Olo’eyktan’s son.” You say, your voice stiff and cold. “We don’t all have countless suitors throwing themselves at our feet. Some of us have to accept attention from whoever’s interested.”
Neteyam’s expression shifts, an odd look appearing in his eyes, and your stomach swoops. You don’t think you could bear to see pity in his eyes, so you pull away from him, shaking his hands off.
“Your scratch is fine.” You say, your voice thin and a little thready. “You’re all treated.
“Hey–”
As you stumble to your feet, Neteyam reaches out as if to stop you. You dodge his hands, unable to look him in the eye.
Panic is starting to set in now; what had you been thinking, touching him like that just after he had chided you for flirting with Txetyo in the tsahìk’s hut? God, you feel like such an idiot. He must think you’re so pathetic.
Like a coward, you turn on your heel and flee out of the hut. You need air, you need to be out of the cool darkness of the hut, you need to be away from the overwhelming weight of Neteyam’s presence. Through the blood rushing in your ears you can distantly hear Neteyam call to you, but you’re too desperate to escape from the whole humiliating interaction to stop and listen.
You stagger out of the hut, squinting at the evening light; it seems blinding after spending all day in the dim musty air of Mo’at’s healing hut. You pat at your rumpled shirt and creased denim shorts, flustered and frenzied as you try to straighten yourself out.
“Tawtute?”
You jerk, gasping, and whirl to find that Txetyo is sitting on a log a few feet away from the hut, apparently waiting for you to finish up with Neteyam. You feel like you’re burning up from a mixture of mortification and confused arousal and you’re certain that Neteyam is about to follow you out.
“I– I have to go!” You blurt, already stepping back towards the forest.
Txetyo frowns, obviously bewildered, but he doesn’t stand. “Don’t you want to–”
You don’t wait for him to finish. You’re already fleeing, disappearing into the trees as you run the whole way home.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ
It might be a little cowardly, but you avoid the village for days after that.
You stick to the outpost, watching Norm and Max and the other scientists work. You try not to die of boredom, and you try not to overthink and overthink and overthink.
But you have too much time on your hands as you slink around the outpost, and you can’t stop feeling guilty about abandoning your attempts to help Mo’at out in her healing hut.
You also can’t stop thinking about the shift of Neteyam’s muscles in the low dim light, or the silky hot feel of his cock in your hand, or the soft breathy grunts he had let out as his hips rocked. It feels like the experience has actually rewired your brain, as though you’ll never recover from it.
Growing up on Pandora as a human has been lonely. The only other human your age is Spider, who had become the closest thing you have to a brother – and you love him even when you feel like throttling him, but sometimes you just yearn for more.
You want companionship, you want understanding, you want romance, you want sexual intimacy. You don’t think it’s too much to ask for, and if you have to turn to big nine-feet-tall Na’vi warriors who just want to say they’ve had the experience of sleeping with a tawtute, then that’s… fine. Even if it’s only temporary.
Part of you is honestly relieved when Spider finally manages to force you out of the outpost and back to the village. It’s a relief to get back into the forest, to the village, to the life you’re used to. The outpost has nothing on the vibrancy of the village life, and you feel as though you can breathe for the first time in days upon stepping back into the village, even if it’s through your respirator mask.
There’s been a big hunt today, and the village is buzzing with excitement. You pass by several willowy Na’vi covered in celebratory paint, and follow the sound of the heavy thumping of drums.
The evening after a hunt is always a joyful affair, and you gradually start to relax throughout the night. You feast on collected fruit, hum along to some of the music, and sit comfortably with Spider all evening. At some point you’re joined by Lo’ak, which you don’t mind either; Lo’ak has always been the kind of outcast that fits comfortably between the edges of you and Spider. Those edges have smoothed out as he got older, but he’s always been a cool guy to hang out with.
When he’s not joining Spider in ganging up on you, that is.
“So– so wait, wait, let me get this straight,” Lo’ak is waving his hands as though trying to settle down a group of rowdy children, even though it’s just the three of you present. “Neteyam walked in on you fucking again, but this time it was in grandmother’s hut–”
You’re sat around the large campfire in the middle of the village, tucked away from the main celebrations. Part of you is flourishing being in this environment again, but another part is withering at this damn conversation. You glance around nervously, hoping that no casual observers can hear you guys talking.
“Txetyo only had his hand up my top!” You hiss hastily. “We weren’t actually– and we would have gone somewhere else when it came down to it!”
“Txetyo is a dickhead.” Spider complains, leaning heavily on your side. He’s so frequently dwarfed by the Na’vi that it’s easy to forget that he’s over six-feet-tall and corded with muscle, and his bulk is heavy.
Irritatingly, Lo’ak leans into you the same way on the other side, though he’s more careful about leaning his full weight, and you end up crushed in between the two idiots.
“He isn’t.” You protest, pushing back against their weight. “He’s–”
“Nah, he is.” Lo’ak interrupts before you can defend him. “Total skxawng. You know he keeps telling people he’s the best archer in the clan? And yet he didn’t manage to catch anything in today’s hunt–”
You try not to wince at that. It’s impossible to miss that while Txetyo may not have been successful in the hunt today, someone else is being lauded for their skill and success.
Neteyam has been given a place of honour by the fire next to his parents, and the careful swirls of paint all over his body can’t hide the proud glow on his face. Under the smooth veneer of Neteyam’s smiles and cheer was the jagged edge of his inferiority complex, his need to always be better and to be liked. Funnily enough, his insecurity has always been your favourite part of him. It felt real in a way his cockiness didn’t.
You can’t stop yourself from glancing over. Night has already fallen and there are many couples dancing, the flickering firelight sending wild shadows across the gathering. But even in the unsteady light, you catch the intense golden stare of Neteyam watching you from across the circle.
You hastily turn your face away, pressing your lips together tight as you try to pretend like you hadn’t been looking in the first place.
“–He’s better than Art’alak, at least.” Spider says, continuing on the conversation that you had checked out of for a few moments. “That guy was awful. I mean, what did you even see in him?”
You roll your eyes, sinking further back into the stupidly heavy weight of Spider and Lo’ak in a silly attempt to hide yourself from view. It almost definitely doesn’t work, and you can still feel the weight of Neteyam’s stare on you, even as you fixedly ignore him.
“Pretty sure we don’t want the answer to that one, man.” Lo’ak says, snickering.
His eyes glance around, before flashing across the gathering as though he can also feel Neteyam’s attention. You frown as Lo’ak hastily removes his arm from around your shoulders, even leaning away from you a little.
“I’m allowed to want company.” You say loftily, though you’re certain that your voice is a little shaky.
It feels like your skin is heating up under Neteyam’s eyes, and you feel yourself getting shifty. Why won’t he just look away?
Lo’ak obviously notices his brother’s attention, because he leans a little closer so he can speak quietly in your ear.
“My brother can be unbearable,” Lo’ak murmurs, “But he’s not a bad guy.”
“Gross.” You wrinkle your nose playfully at Lo’ak’s rare display of sincerity about his brother and he hisses at you, swiping at your head.
It’s all in jest, which is obvious given how gentle his hands are with you, and you laugh and lean away.
“I just– I don’t understand him.” You sigh once your laughter has tapered off. “I mean, I get that he doesn’t approve of the whole interspecies thing, but it’s like he goes out of his way to catch me in embarrassing situations. If he finds it gross, why seek it out?”
Lo’ak purses his lips and avoids your eyes. “Uh…”
“Anytime he shows up, the guys I’m with go running.” You continue, your brows knitting into a frown. “I mean, it’s getting ridiculous. Why can’t he just mind his own business?”
Lo’ak’s eyes dart over your head, and you just know that he and Spider are sharing a look together.
“He doesn’t– I wouldn’t say he disapproves of interspecies relationships–” Lo’ak says, but he fumbles a little in his attempt to get his words out and darts another panicked glance across the fire towards where Neteyam is sitting with their father.
You just scoff, crossing your arms defensively across your chest. You feel a little vulnerable talking about this; usually, you’re content to suffer through the embarrassment of having your sex partners pretending they don’t know you in public alone, but since Neteyam had started walking in on you, now he knows that they’re doing it too.
“He scolds them like they’re children whenever he walks in on us, talking about how they’re neglecting their duties and all that,” You mutter, scowling. “But it’s obviously because he’s annoyed that his friends are messing around with a Sky Person.”
Spider shifts at your side, making an odd sound beneath his breath. You turn to look at him, but he’s staring rather fixedly at a tree branch overhead. Lo’ak clears his throat, similarly looking off to the side to avoid your eyes.
You frown. It feels as though they’re hiding something from you, and the thought is unsettling.
“What?” You demand, sitting forward and staring intently at them.
“Nothing,” Lo’ak protests, but his voice is a little too high-pitched to be believable. “Uh… It’s just… well, I really don’t think that Neteyam has a problem with interspecies relationships. Our dad came from the Sky, too!”
You think that Lo’ak probably intended for that to be reassuring, but instead you find your stomach sinking miserably.
“Oh.” You say, pursing your lips. “So it’s me that he has a problem with.”
“No!” Lo’ak protests, but then he pauses. His mouth opens and closes as he struggles to form a response under the weight of your narrowed eyes.
When no explanation comes, you end up just averting your gaze and looking towards the fire. It’s stupid, but you’re not sure what you were even expecting. Neteyam has always been perfect in his personal life, his duties, his relationships within the clan, his looks. It’s hardly a surprise that he’s developed a distaste for you – you know what Sky People represent to the Na’vi, after all.
Across the gathering, two Na’vi girls are shooting looks at Spider. You almost think they’re looking at him in disgust, but when Spider catches their eye and smiles back they both look away giggling.
You click your tongue and roll your eyes. You wonder when exactly it was that the Na’vi your age stopped seeing you as human nuisances that haunt the village, and started instead seeing you as people with possible sexual appeal.
“That is just unfair.” You intone dully. “You get Na’vi girls flirting with you from across the campfire, and I get Na’vi boys fucking me in corners and then pretending they don’t know me. And that’s only if I don’t get rudely interrupted by Lo’ak’s asshole brother.”
“Men.” Lo’ak says in a disparaging tone that sounds as though it’s meant to be sympathetic, but it falls short as he’s biting his tongue to keep from laughing. “Maybe you just have bad taste.”
Spider laughs too, though he’s still looking in the Na’vi girls’ direction. There’s a pink flush in his cheeks, and his smile looks distinctly pleased.
“Yeah,” You grumble, sinking down where you’re sitting. “I’m hearing that a lot.”
The conversation moves on then, Lo’ak nudging at Spider over your head and grinning as he recounts the highlights from the hunt earlier that day, but you’re distracted. You hardly even hear a word they say, too busy staring broodingly into the fire.
Luckily, neither Lo’ak nor Spider mind your silence. They’re perfectly content to fill the quiet themselves, chatting and babbling and joking over your head.
You’re drifting, lost in your own thoughts until you hear Lo’ak and Spider go quiet. You glance over to them, only to realise why they’ve stopped talking – Neteyam is walking your way.
You stiffen, eyes narrowing behind your respirator mask as he comes to a stop before you all. He greets his brother and Spider briefly, distractedly, before his big amber eyes settle on you.
All you can do is wait, tensed. You have no idea what he’s going to do or say, but if he says something about that day in the healing hut you might actually scream.
But Neteyam doesn’t immediately say anything. He crouches in front of you, his gaze as measured and even as ever, and proffers a wrapped utumauti leaf to you. For a moment, you just stare at it as though it’s something venomous.
“A portion of yerik meat,” Neteyam clarifies, not even blinking as he watches your face. “From the hunt earlier.”
Oh. Now you see. He’s just showing off, like he always does. He’s always doing things like this, just to show off his skills, his prowess, how strong he is. It’s irritating; everyone already knows how great he is, and he’s already practically revered throughout the village. You don’t know why he keeps trying to flaunt his greatness in front of you, other than the fact that he must love to annoy you.
Spider nudges you in the side, and you reach out to take the wrapped meat from Neteyam’s outstretched hand.
“Thank you.” You say, a little tersely.
Neteyam just nods, his tail coiling. He watches your face for another moment, and all the unspoken tension between you from the other day seems to swell to unbearable heights. His ears twitch, and then he glances over his shoulder to where his parents are sitting by the fire. They’re watching, which makes you feel itchy and embarrassed.
“I should return.” He says simply, before standing and nodding at you, then Spider and Lo’ak, before straightening up and walking back to his place by Jake, his tail swaying low.
There’s a long moment of silence, where you can feel Lo’ak and Spider staring at you.
“Don’t.” You say sharply when you see Lo’ak’s mouth open, and he closes it with a click.
This feels embarrassing, as though Neteyam is mocking you somehow. It’s not the first time he’s given you food, always making sure to let you know he caught it himself. It’s like he has a damn pathological need to show off his skills, to try and prove himself, to prove that he’s better than anyone else. It’s aggravating, even more so now that Lo’ak has made it clear that it’s you that Neteyam has a problem with.
Eventually, Spider and Lo’ak return to their conversation and you pull back, sitting silently between them. You pull your mask off for a brief moment to nibble at the meat. You’re a little irritated to admit that it’s delicious, and you sit back to lean into Spider’s side as you chew at it sullenly.
You’ve just begun to wonder if this night is a total bust altogether when you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. You raise your head, surprised to see the sight of Txetyo stepping towards you.
At your side, Spider and Lo’ak share a look before sitting up straighter.
“Tawtute,” Txetyo greets, nodding his head at you. He casts a single cautious look towards Lo’ak, before focusing on you properly.
He is keeping his voice purposely low so that no one else can hear, but you can’t bring yourself to care. This is the most public setting that any man has ever actually approached you in, and you can feel your expression brightening already.
“Hello.” You murmur, smiling sweetly at him. The last time you had seen him had been right after you had fled the tsahik’s hut, right after you had touched Neteyam– and no, you are not thinking about that right now.
“I would like to speak with you.” Txetyo murmurs, his voice low as he darts one more quick look between Lo’ak and Spider before settling on you again.
You brighten. You’re under no illusions about what Txetyo wants to ‘speak’ about, and you can safely assume that there will be little to no talking involved at all.
Yes. A distraction. This is exactly what you need.
“Sure.” You say, your lips curving up in a coy smile as you unfold yourself from where you’ve been sitting between Spider and Lo’ak.
“Uh–” Lo’ak starts to say, but you’re already beginning to step away with Txetyo, who’s beginning to lead you away from the gathering.
Maybe it’s a little impulsive, but you’re feeling reckless tonight. You can still feel Neteyam’s eyes boring into your back as you follow Txetyo towards the treeline, but you determinedly refuse to look. The celebration should be enough of a distraction to keep him busy and away from you for a while so you can finally get laid.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ
You resist the urge to check the time on your battered old wristwatch as Txetyo slides down your body and repositions himself between your legs.
It feels like such a long time since you’ve hooked up successfully with anyone, with no interruptions, which is probably why you’ve been so affected by all-things-Neteyam recently. You were hoping that this encounter with Txetyo would restore you back to normal, to get rid of all the thoughts of Neteyam’s intense golden stare and pretty face and silken hot cock that are absolutely haunting you.
Yet, so far, the night’s been less than stellar. Txetyo had led you away from the celebrations, and you had to try hard to pretend like you don’t see him looking around compulsively to make sure that no one else has seen him leave with you. You had followed him into the trees, and had brightened up when he took your hand as soon as you were out of sight of the gathering.
Before you knew it, you were on your back on the forest floor with your panties around your ankles and your dress rucked up around your waist as Txetyo loomed over you on his hands and knees.
Txetyo is handsome, and he’s big and strong and he’s not opposed to hooking up with a Sky Person, but he’s not much for conversation and it seems like he’s only really got one thing on his mind. Apparently, your list of criteria might be a little lacking, because Txetyo’s also proving to be woefully bad at sex.
He spreads your legs and buries his face there. You blink at the canopy of glowing foliage overhead, grimacing. Honestly, you’d think that anything tongue-adjacent would feel good against a clit, but that’s just not true. Txetyo seems to have an affinity for moving his tongue rapidly and aimlessly against you, resulting in nothing better than the occasional teasing — definitely by accident.
You shift a little, try to angle your hips so that Txetyo’s mouth is over your clit, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on what you’re attempting to do at all. He just moves his mouth away, jabbing his tongue sort of aimlessly at your left labia.
“Could you– a bit higher–” You say, trying to shift again.
Txetyo’s mouth is rather sloppy against your pussy, but you’re not actually sure what he’s doing down there. He seems to be missing every possible nerve ending that might feel good, which is actually a little bit impressive.
You sigh, and just resign yourself to getting bad head. You let your head thunk back against the mossy forest floor, your legs hanging off of Txetyo’s big shoulders as he hunches between your thighs.
It’s almost imperceptible, but the quiet ‘crack’ of a twig breaking underfoot has your head snapping around in a panic.
Though night has fallen, it’s never truly dark on Pandora. The moss beneath you glows faintly, illuminating the outline of your body as you lay there with Txetyo getting busy between your legs. The trees and foliage around you are similarly phosphorescent, your surroundings all lit up in luminous vibrance.
Pandora’s bioluminescence is beautiful; it also means that you can see Neteyam’s figure all dimly lit up as he leans against the trunk of a tree about fifteen feet away.
Neteyam’s head is cocked to the side as he very obviously takes in the scene before him, his head turning to scan up and down your body. His little luminous freckles are lit up and glowing, and it’s impossible to miss the fact that his golden eyes are fixed on you, so intense that it’s almost breathtaking.
You almost scream. You mean to, but instead you moan, completely by accident, and Txetyo groans between your legs.
You don’t know what to do. You’re gaping at Neteyam, who seems all too content to just watch you, meanwhile Txetyo is totally oblivious. He’s still doing nothing right, but something deep inside you pulses.
Moments later, much to your horror, Neteyam takes a small, tentative step forward. He stands only a few feet away, behind Txetyo and in plain view of you.
Go away! You mouth, staring at him in disbelief.
Neteyam scratches his head, feigning confusion, and then he takes another step forward.
He doesn’t say anything. Why isn’t he saying anything? It’s not the first time he’s walked in on you in a situation like this, but usually by this point he’s started making snarky comments, which in turn makes the men you’re with scramble away from you like you’re diseased.
Your dress is pushed up clumsily around your stomach, exposing your pussy. There’s a man between your legs. You’re in the process of getting fucked and Neteyam is watching, goddammit.
It definitely, absolutely is not hot. And yet… your hips twitch, and your breath hitches.
“That feel good?” Txetyo asks, peering up to grin at you. Your attention is dragged back to him and you blink, dazed.
“Yeah,” You lie. “So good.”
“Mm,” Txetyo hums in satisfaction, slipping two fingers into you. “Good.”
You grunt at the stretch of his thick fingers, breathing deep. His mouth returns, his fingers jabbing kind of aimlessly, but it hardly matters. Your attention is locked on Neteyam, and it’s somehow making Txetyo’s useless attempts feel somewhat invigorating.
“Oh god,” You gasp. You’re so confused. Part of you is still waiting for Neteyam to speak up, to make a sound or to clear his throat. Something. But he just watches on, his pretty eyes dark.
“Mm, so pretty,” Txetyo murmurs from between your legs, still blissfully unaware of your onlooker. “Can I fuck you now, tawtute?”
Despite yourself, you find your eyes darting over to Neteyam. The stupid fucker is still looking, and when he sees that you’ve looked at him his lips quirk. Your whole body flushes deep with heat, and you try to pretend like you aren’t taking direction from him; usually, his appearance would have stopped this entire encounter dead in its tracks. But you’re continuing, and the fact is, you feel as though you need his permission or something.
“Y-yes.” You say.
Neteyam purses his lips, and raises his non-existent brows. Fuck, what does that mean?
“How would you like me to–”
“Just like this.” You blurt. It feels, for some reason, as though you can’t risk Txetyo noticing Neteyam. This is the only way you can see Neteyam without Txetyo noticing him, anyway.
Txetyo shuffles up your body, his bulk dwarfing you. There’s a moment’s struggle as he’s lining himself up against your pussy, groaning low as he pushes into you. The stretch is intense, and a little painful, as always; you never quite get used to the bone-deep satisfaction of that achey biting stretch in your cunt.
The stretch is satisfying, like it always is, but it’s not necessarily special. Txetyo is not as evenly proportioned as he looks, and his cock is smaller than other Na’vi you’ve been with. That is, mostly, a good thing; it means he can fuck you without lube, which you usually have to use to accommodate the shocking stretch of taking a Na’vi cock. It also means that you adjust to having him inside you a little quicker, your muscles easing gradually around the intrusion of his dick.
What is special (or at least unusual) is the fact that Neteyam is still watching. You stare back, maintaining a bewilderingly intense sort of eye contact. Txetyo groans as your cunt clenches down on him, and he lowers his face to bury it in your shoulder; like this, your view of Neteyam is completely unimpeded.
“Ah! You’re so tight,” Txetyo hisses. “This is okay?”
“Yes,” You gasp. “You can move.”
And by God, does Txetyo move. He jerks in and out of you with a complete lack of coordination. You bounce and flop against the luminescent bed of moss beneath you, occasionally throwing a hand over your head to try and anchor yourself to a tree root behind you, just to stay put for a second or two.
Neteyam is undoubtedly amused. He has a hand pressed to his mouth, and the skin around his eyes is scrunched up with mirth. At one point, when Txetyo starts humping into you so desperately that you grunt, wincing, Neteyam doubles over himself completely, laughing silently.
“Oh, oh,” Txetyo groans. “Tawtute, I am going to– you are so tight, so hot inside–"
You smack one of Txetyo’s hands away from where he’d been rubbing determinedly at the side of your vulva. You rub at your clit instead in fast, harsh circles, staring at Neteyam desperately. You don’t actually know what you’re looking for, or what you want him to do… but you want him to do something.
Neteyam reaches down to palm the bulge at the front of his tewng that you hadn’t even noticed until now, and you moan. You rub yourself even faster, attempting to angle your hips in any way that could increase your pleasure from Txetyo. It seems impossible, but you manage to catch one or two good strokes.
“Please, please—!” You gasp, eyes wide as you maintain eye contact with Neteyam over the wide bulk of Txetyo’s shoulders.
Neyeyam moans. It’s low, barely noticeable under Txetyo’s own strangled sounds, but you hear it clearly. Your body seizes up and then you’re coming, gasping high and quick as you drink Neteyam in with your eyes, frozen under Neteyam’s gaze in turn.
“Unnng,” Txetyo grunts as he comes too, thrusting into you through the last shocks of his orgasm.
You barely even blink, your eyes fixed wide open as you tremble, your breaths shaky. Neteyam doesn’t break eye contact either, watching you so damn closely that it feels bizarrely as though he’s watching a show you’re putting on, as though all of this is for him. The worst part is you feel as though you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t.
Neteyam silently turns and slips away through the foliage, and Txetyo flops onto the mossy ground beside you moments later, breathing heavily.
“That was good.” Txetyo sighs, his voice thick with satisfaction.
You don’t reply, still staring at the place Neteyam had disappeared into the trees. You’re partly unable to believe what just happened and partly turned on beyond belief, just knowing it did.
-Toby is an adventurous person at heart, he likes seeing new things and trying new things.
-he’s a big introvert and hates talking to people. I feel like Toby is the most awkward creepypasta, but like PAINFULLY awkward. He snaps fast though.
-least likely to get scared, he’s just generally unphased.
-Though he’s got some mad younger brother energy with the right people.
-I feel like Masky is more jumpy when getting jumpscared then Toby is.
-sometimes he’ll go into a surfer boy voice for no reason whatsoever, his stutter messes it up sometimes, but it’s still funny.
-chronic mimic, voice wise and funny without really trying. Ticci Toby is naturally childish at heart, but he’s like mature at the same time.
-Toby’s voice is definitely smooth and lower pitched, I feel like he almost has a Canadian accent without being Canadian.
-I headcannon all creepypastas to be from Ohio because midwestern emo is too real.
-definitely had a fnaf phase.
-he’s part of the big nose community (good for sitting on)
-I think Toby is really awkward when it comes to dating, so your definitely gonna have to make the first moves. He’s very loyal though and bold in text.
-actually YEHA this mf gets bold af whenever texting but in real life? HA
NSFW Headcannons
He’s definitely got a 7 incher and fully moans, like he does not hold back. He’s got a pretty dick too, it’s pale and flushed lightly. Ngl I feel like he’s probably one of the best at sex out of the creepypastas.
-Overstimulation
Toby loves being pushed to his edge, literally. He likes doing the same to you too, but to him it feels like he straight up goes to heaven. It takes Toby about 15 minutes to cum and he’s very fidgety, so it’s very attractive to overstimulate him. Bro is literally beautiful. He also returns the favor and he’s GOOD too.
-objectification
He likes being dumbed down and unable to think whenever it’s sexy time. It’s a way for him to generally de-stress. Toby also just likes to please you and be pleased. He’s really into equality…except for when it comes to him, he likes considering himself to be lesser then you. It just makes him self good that he can please you.
-praise
Toby likes being praised because I do think his self esteem is low. He also believes what people say easily, so whenever you praise him it makes him be so much more bold and dominant. He praises you too because he can’t stop talking sometimes. His head just gets all fuzzy whenever he’s praised.
-breeding
I want to mention, Toby would not mind being pegged. On the topic of breeding however… Toby sometimes gets too into it. He’s not like demanding or weird and he’s willing to laugh during sex, but when it’s cum time it’s CUM TIME. He’s definitely like into creampies, stuff like that. As long as your good with it he’d totally cum in you as many times as bitch got stamina. He’s surprisingly dominant when it comes to breeding. Like he leans more submissive, but whenever he gets really into it he flips the tide real quickly. He’s just really into fucking you tbh.
Scenario
“S-s-shit oh my g-god!” Toby choked out, coming down from his third orgasm.
“Poor you, think you could go for one more? Just one more for me?” You pouted, sitting up top his dick.
“No no no no no, please oh my god,” Toby breathily spoke, his stomach flexing and twitching.
You looked up at him in concern, “you alright?”
Toby readjusted and accidentally thrusted up into you. “Yeah,” he muttered, starting to slowly fuck up into you at his own pace.
“You we’re going a lil’ fast, it’s okay though,” Toby muttered, hissing through his teeth. “Oh sorry,” you muttered back with a relaxed smile, kissing Toby lightly as he moaned.
A/N: Again, like the Tim one, mentions of Proxies x reader with Toby being the main one for tonight.
Extra:
Glass shattering sounded throughout your small house, and it took everything in you not to immediately start yelling as you sat up in your bed. You took a long, deep breath and clenched your fists before breathing out, letting the tension fall with your shoulders. The door to your bedroom slowly cracked open, and you could see just barely make out Toby’s teary eyes in the hallway light.
“Yeah, Toby,” you sighed.
Toby pushed the door open the slightest bit more. “I-I broke sss-s-some of-fff your pla-ates,” he mumbled. “M-mmm-masky said to t-tell you because he di-didn’t want t-to clean it.” God, why in the hell was Masky fronting right now?
You pulled yourself up fully and stepped out of bed, shivering from how cold it was. You would never understand what the boys had against letting the heater run, but panties and a tank top - though good for being piled under blankets and boys - was not good for walking around your house in anymore. “Come here, baby.”
Toby sniffled and opened the door completely. His shoulders were hunched over as he walked over to you. His hands were bloody and dripping onto the floor below, and the tears were threatening to spill at this point. “I-I’m s-sss-sorry,” he whined. “I t-t-tried to clea-ean it u-up a-a bit, bu-ut I kept cutt-tt-tting my hands-sss, and Mas-sss-sky got m-mad because h-he sss-said I was ma-making even m-more of-fff a-a mess-ss.” He shook in place, head bowed in shame. “I’m s-sorry for wa-waking you-ou u-up.”
You picked up his hands gently, inspecting the cuts. Nothing too deep, and thankfully nothing lodged into his skin, but he was still bleeding profusely. You knew he couldn’t feel the pain, but you still winced internally as you traced around the area. “Come on. Let’s go clean this up.”
Toby trailed behind you as you walked to the bathroom. You were shivering but could ignore it for now. Toby sat on the closed toilet seat while you grabbed supplies. You cleaned his wounds gently, taking the time to clean each cut and make sure there was nothing in it. Then, you wrapped his hands with gauze and tape you kept for things like this.
“Where’s Brian,” you asked, as you taped off the final one. You had both been silent the whole time.
Toby huffed. “H-He left t-to go do sss-s-something for boss-ssman.”
“Why’s Masky fronting?”
“H-He t-took over whe-en Brian g-got called, and no-ow, he’s w-watching the T-T-T-TV.”
You nodded. If Tim had been fronting, he would have helped a little bit, but Masky preferred to let Toby deal with his own consequences. You wrapped your arms around Toby’s shoulders and stood between his legs, pulling him towards you. He nuzzled his face against your chest and let out a content sigh.
“Y-You’re n-not angry, r-right,” Toby whispered.
You shook your head. “Of course not. I’ll go clean the mess in a little bit. Don’t worry about it.” Toby nodded, and his arms slipped to your hips, holding them, fingers pressing a bit harsher into the fat. Then, he turned and pressed a kiss right where the top of your tank top ended and exposed skin. You furrowed your brows and ran your fingers through his curls. “What are you doing, Tobes?”
He nipped at your skin before looking up at you, a stupid grin on his face. “N-Nothing.” He squeezed your hips again before moving them farther back, hands now holding your ass. “Th-this is-sss ok r-right?”
You huffed out a laugh. “What spurred this on?”
Toby’s face flushed a bit. “Y-you loo-ook really ni-ice right now, a-a-a-and, y-you’re s-sss-so nice t-to me.”
You rolled your eyes. “You got turned on by me fixing your hands,” you teased.
“M-maybe,” he mumbled.
You took a small step back, running a hand from his hair to under his chin, tilting his face up to look at you. “Say it.”
His face went from a light pink to tomato red, eyes instantly softening. Just what I liked to see. “S-sss-say what?”
You leaned down, pressing the smallest kiss to his lips. “Tell me I’m the one that turns you on like this.”
He let out a shuddering breath. “Y-you’re the o-one who t-t-turns me on li-ike th-this. Pleas-sss-se, can I-I t-touch you?”
“You’re already touching me, babyboy.”
He whined loudly. “Th-that’s n-not what I-I mean.”
You ran your thumb over his cheek lovingly. “You gotta use your words, baby. How am I supposed to know what you want if you don’t explicitly say it?”
“Pl-please,” he whined, “I-I want to t-touch y-your puss-ssy. I-I wa-want t-to eat y-yyy-you out! I-I want t-to m-mmm-make you f-feel good.”
You grinned. “How about this. You go undress fully and lay down on the bed. Then, wait for me to come back, okay?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “O-okay!” He scrambled to stand, a little bounce in his step.
You stopped him as he went to move. “One second.” You pressed your other hand to his face, holding him still before giving him a proper kiss, one that you grinned into as Toby pressed back into you eagerly. You pulled away after a second and patted him gently on the butt. “Alright, go on. I’ll be there in a moment.”
He nodded quickly and jumped away. You could hear his footsteps all the way to the bedroom where he shut the door loudly. You paused for a moment before walking out of the bathroom and to the kitchen. You could see that Toby had picked up the bigger pieces, but there was blood smeared on the floor, and there was still quite a bit of smaller pieces scattered everywhere. You sighed while looking at it before turning to the kitchen. Masky or Tim - You weren’t sure who it was at the moment - was half-asleep on the couch. He turned at the sound of your footsteps, eyes half-lidded, but a smile crawling across his face at the sight of you.
“Hey, darling,” he spoke. “Sorry about the mess.”
You rolled your eyes. “Go to sleep. I’ll talk to you later.”
He shrugged his shoulders and leaned his head back. “The kid okay?”
“He’s fine. I got him patched up.” You pulled a broom from the closet and began to sweep the glass up, but you stopped after a second, rolling your eyes. You’d make Masky clean it later. Your mind was focused on the boy in your room right now. God, you were getting hot and bothered thinking about him sprawled across the bedsheets. You glanced at Masky again before walking back to the room. You paused for just a moment before opening the door.
You couldn’t help the quiet moan that escaped your mouth at the sight. Toby was breathing heavily, pale body contrasting against dark sheets. He had been watching the door, and his eyes immediately locked on you as you entered the room, quietly closing the door behind you. You let your eyes trail from his face down his chest to his cock resting against his stomach, rock hard and leaking, flushed pink like the rest of him.
“M-mommy,” Toby cried.
You grinned. “I’m here baby. Don’t worry.”
You began stepping towards him, hands gripping the bottom of your tank top and slowly pulling it above your head. You let it drop to the floor beside you as you stood directly next to the bed. Toby’s hands clenched around the bedding - ever the good boy, not wanting to touch without permission. You hummed before crawling on top of him, knees on either side of his head.
Toby swallowed harshly, big eyes staring up at you as a tic rolled through, his head snapping to the side and shoulders rolling.
You tilted your head as you looked down at him. “You said you wanted mommy’s pussy?”
You let your hands trail down and push your panties to the side before lowering yourself to right above his mouth. “Well, go ahead. You can touch.”
Toby’s hands were immediately gripping your ass, pulling you down onto his mouth and wrapping his lips around your clit. A wanton moan was ripped from both of your throats, Toby’s reverberating against your skin. If there was ever one constant in Toby it was his enthusiasm when it came to eating you out. Diving in with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, trying to reach every bit of skin he possibly could.
He paused, wrapping his lips around your clit again before sucking harshly. You gripped his hair tightly with one hand while the other grabbed the bed frame, but you couldn’t help the noise you made as he began running his tongue back and forth fast enough to have your legs quivering before he dropped back down to your entrance for just a moment, running back right after. He took in a gulp of air, groaning as your hips ground against his face, silently asking - begging - for more, more, more.
“Come on, Toby, baby. You said you wanted to make me feel good, yeah? Make mommy feel good.” Your voice was breathless, crawling to the roof. There was no doubt that anyone home knew what was happening, but you would feel bad for Tim later, and Brian, you thought as you heard the front door kick open and close.
One of Toby’s hands moved, middle and ring finger pressing to your entrance. In a fluid movement, he was filling you up, and your eyes shot open at the feeling, looking down to see Toby’s eyes soaking up each and every one of your movements the best he could. His eyes were unfocused, vision most likely blurry, but he didn’t seem to care as his hips jerked, humping at the air, desperate for any sort of friction.
His hand moved slowly, pumping in and out, mouth slobbering on that little bundle of nerves, desperate for more of you, more of anything. “Please.” Toby’s whine was muffled against your thighs, but you were aware just enough to recognize what he was saying.
“What do you need, baby,” you questioned, hand loosening on his hair and hips pulling upward just a bit, letting him properly breathe.
“P-Please, cum!” The request was punctuated with him wrapping his arms around your thighs again and pulling you down harshly. If he could feel pain, you had no doubt it would have hurt, but he seemed none the wiser as he ravaged you.
You feel apart almost instantly. I mean, how could you not? With a request like that - the fire in his eyes. You practically screamed as you came, holding onto him like a lifeline, praises falling out of you faster than you could catch them, Toby’s hips canting with your sounds.
He pushed you through your orgasm, his movements not slowing in the slightest until you finally pulled yourself up. That didn’t stop Toby, his upper body pushing him up so he could follow, arms flexing to try and pull you down, but he stopped at the sound of your voice. “Toby, wait.”
He let out a high whine, but he let go, panting loudly where he was laid, his hands running up and down your thighs. You let out a deep breath before sitting back, letting your ass rest on Toby’s chest. The boy didn’t mind in the slightest, that stupid grin back on his face.
“M-Mommy,” Toby whispered after a moment of silence. You hummed, eyes falling back on him. “Kiss.”
You grinned and leaned down, grabbing his face with both hands and pulling it to yours. He leaned forward with you, mouth opening so his tongue slid across yours. Toby’s hands tightened until they were almost painful before he let go fully, falling back onto the bed.
You hummed softly, feeling Toby’s hips grind into nothing. “What do you want, babyboy?” Toby flushed, his head tilting to the side so he wouldn’t meet your eyes anymore. You tutted, hands pulling his face back until he was looking at you again. “Do we need to stop? I can go clean up.”
Toby’s hand shot forward, grabbing your wrist as you began to move. “N-no!”
You chuckled. “Then, use your words. How am I supposed to know what you want if you don’t talk?”
“Please, please, l-let me fff-fuck you! Ple-eee-ease!”
You hummed again, thumb trailing across Toby’s cheek, running along the opening of his wound lovingly. “How do you want me, then? You want me to ride you?”
He shook his head slowly. “N-no,” He mumbled, “I-I want t-to do the w-work.” He pushed his hands up, wanting to hold your chest. You let him, huffing a small laugh. “S-sss-switch?” You nodded, letting yourself get up and Toby roll out from underneath you. He pressed his hand to your stomach, slowly pushing you back until you were laid down fully. He leaned down with you, following the movements, and captured his mouth against yours. It was slow, passionate, and you let your entire body relax at the feeling. As he pulled away, he used his hand to line himself with your entrance. “W-want to m-mmm-make m-mommy feel goo-ood,” he whined as he filled you up, the feeling of being full making the both of you cry out.
“You are, baby, you are. Just fuck mommy good, please. You’re doing so good.” Toby cried out as he began thrusting, the slick sound coming from between us seeming to fuel him as his hips staggered - no rhythm coming from him, but pleasure still coursing through the two of you. “Come on, Tobes, harder. Harder, baby.” Toby’s hips slammed into yours harshly once before he finally picked a rhythm and stuck with it, a fast, harsh pace that had you clawing at his back.
Toby’s mouth was wide open, drool beginning to gather and spill onto your chest, but only soft moans and whines escaped him. He was breathing harshly, eyes closed tightly. Every time his eyes fluttered open, they were rolled to the back of his head, lost in the feeling of you, your tightness, the slickness, the sounds and praises that fell from your lips to his ears. Gods, if there was one place he’d give up everything to be constantly, it’s right here with you - in you.
Toby let out a particularly loud cry before beginning to babble almost incoherently. “Please, please, pl-please, m-mommy, I-I need to cum. I need- I- I need t-to cum, m-mommy! Mommy-yyy!”
“You hold it, Toby,” you spoke, nails digging into his back fully. “Do not cum. Do not!”
“Please! I-I ca-an’t hold i-it! Ple-ease!”
You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling his face to yours. “You fucking hold it, Toby. Don’t you want to be a good boy - my good boy?”
“I-I wa-ant to be goo-ood, b-but I c-cant!” Toby’s hands tightened painfully on your waist. “I- I-!” He wasn’t able to finish his statement, cutting himself off with a loud, strangled moan, hips stuttering as he came, warmth filling you. “I’m sorry! I-I’m sorry! S-sss-sorry!” He paused, breathing strained as he looked down at you.
You huffed, pulling him down so your noses were touching. “Who the fuck said you could stop,” you growled. Toby sobbed as his hips canted forward again, a slower pace than before, but he started fucking again. “You said you wanted mommy to feel good, yeah?”
“Y-yes! I-I do!”
“Then make me cum.”
Toby’s hips snapped forward again and again, hands pushing down and fingers running along your folds, right where you were connected, before he found your clit, and he rolled it between his fingers before rubbing, trying to figure out what would make you cum faster, make you feel best. Tears gathered in his eyes as the overstimulation began to hit him, but he powered through, tongue lolling out of his mouth.
You could feel that familiar cord tightening and tightening and- and-
You slammed Toby’s face against your own, letting your moans intertwine with his as you came, a symphony of love and desire filling any quiet in the room - hell, maybe even the house. You - in your haze - could feel Toby cumming again, your clenching walls making him lose it all over again.
As you finally calmed down, and Toby’s thrusts stopped, you were both able to catch your breaths. You raised your hand slowly and pushed away the tears that fell from Toby’s eyes. He grinned at the action, pressing his mouth to yours once more before pulling away fully, sitting back on his haunches, effectively pulling out. You wanted to whine at the empty feeling that came with it, but you also needed to focus on Toby at the moment.
You sat up slowly, catching your breath as you did. Toby was panting, wiping away the final bits of his tears. “Are you okay, baby,” you questioned, crawling over to him.
He turned at your voice, a grin slipping across his dazed face. “Of c-course, I am,” he mumbled. “K-Kiss?”
You chuckled. “Anytime, darling.” You pressed a peck to his lips followed by a slightly longer one before pulling away completely. “Do you want to shower and then maybe nap?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Y-yes! Yes, ple-ease!”
You pulled yourself up, stretching your hands way above your head, groaning as your back cracked. You then bent down, finally discarding the panties you had been wearing, annoyed at how the cum was beginning to dampen the fabric. You’d rather just be naked for the time being. Toby surely didn’t mind as he reached out for you. You stood in front of him, letting him wrap his arms around you and hug your torso, resting his head on your chest. “You did good, baby. You always do.” Hands carded through his hair. “I’m not mad, I promise. You did so good, and I love you so much.”
“I-I love y-you, too.”
“Now, come on, let’s go shower.” You pulled him up, the two of you naked as the day you were born as you pulled him out of the door and to the bathroom.
He let go as you got closer, stumbling in as you turned back, hearing someone enter the hall. Brian smirked, eyes trailing down your form. “Mommy, huh?”
You huffed, pausing by the bathroom door as the shower began to heat up. “Don’t worry, daddy, give me a minute to cool down, and I’m all yours.” You closed the door behind you before pulling it open again, sticking your head out. “But get Masky to clean the mess in the kitchen, and it has to be him, or I’m off-limits from everyone for a week!”
A chorus of groans rang out loudly through the house, only interrupted by your loud laugh as you pulled Toby into the steam of the shower.
Toby gets jealous super easily even if he wasn’t a yandere, so it isn't hard at all to bring out the worst in him
Of course Toby has a lot of pent up anger and will gladly take it out on you even if it wasn’t your fault. An example of this would be was when you’d been talking to Hoodie who was watching you for Toby. And when Toby came back from his mission, walking in on the two of you deep in conversation, he dragged you to his room and made sure that after he was done you couldn’t walk the next morning
He gets very aggressive and rough, Toby does not waste time. The foreplay is extreme as well, he just wants to see you crying underneath him and begging him for mercy as he thrusts into you so hard the headboard of the bed bangs against the wall
Jealous Toby will make sure to mark you up. Lots of hickeys and love bites in the most obvious places will be made on your skin.
Toby is going to degrade you. Usually, he would give you praise, he actually prefers to praise you for taking him so well, but he will drive it into your brain that you’re a slut for him and no one else could satisfy you the way he does.
To prove this Toby will overstimulate you until he thinks you’re truly sorry for making him so riled up. Toby can eat you out for as long as needed. But he won’t be gentle, he wants to make you overwhelmed to the point where you break and all you can think about is him.
He will keep using you over and over again, making sure you at least cum four times before he even thinks about sliding his cock in you
He wants to see you sobbing about how you love it when he’s inside you and that he’s the only person who can pleasure you. Toby is very insecure, he craves reassurance that you won’t leave so he’ll be sure to make you cock drunk
There will be no usual romantic sex, no gentleness, no intimacy. Just rough long sexual punishment that leaves your mind blank with no thoughts other than being Toby’s personal toy
contains. praise, slight degradation, sub/switch!kazutora, face-fucking, creampie, and weed mentions.
author’s note. this was requested by anon but i wanted to add a few of my favorites in here as well! let me know if i should make a part 2 with other charas!
IZANA.
Izana isn’t stupid. He’s far from it. He just enjoys the feeling—the sight of you rutting your hips over his lap, whining desperately as if he can’t hear every huffy whimper and pant you rasp out. His lips are quirked in amusement and his hands remain at your waist, keeping you in place as violet eyes scan your body.
“Use me to get off, princess.”
It’s like those words alone ignited something inside you and you were already tugging his sweats down, freeing his heavy cock from its confines. In your hand, he throbs, two prominent veins running along the underside and so much pre-cum leaking from the tip, you’d think he was the desperate one. You’re already wet from his previous teasing to not think twice about pushing your panties to the side and sinking yourself down onto his cock.
“That’s it. There you go.” He praises as he rests his hands behind him against the headboard, watching how you struggle to take him all at once. Once you finally manage to sheathe him inside you, you’re wasting no time bouncing your hips at a steady pace with your hands pressed up against his bare chest. His tan skin glows under the illumination of the moonlight, casting a God-like hue over his features and in that moment you’d think you actually saw God.
His eyes remain half lidded as you swirl your hips up and down his cock, spelling out his name with the lewd motions of your body. “Is that all you got, princess? Ride this dick like you mean it or I'll take it away.” He thrusts up to add emphasis to his words, causing you to take him in deeper, riding him harder than before and chasing the orgasm bubbling up within you.
Within moments of your movements, you’re creaming all over his cock, riding out your messy orgasm with pitchy whines. Izana leans forward, breath fanning over your ear as he whispers, “Good girl f’me, just Kurokawa’s princess, aren’t you? Now let me use you too.”
KAZUTORA.
“Fuck, Tora. ‘S so good.”
You whimper into the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close while you allow him to slide his cock through your folds. What started as an innocent hotboxing session in the car quickly dwindled to you climbing over his lap, lust in your red-tinted eyes as you begged to just feel him, any kind of way.
He couldn’t resist you at all and the thought of him using you to get himself off made him harder than a fucking brick.
Every time the tip of his cock nudged at your clit and you’d let out the most dulcet moan, he swore he’d cum instantly. And he still does. Low squelching noises are reverberated throughout the vehicle as well as the bass coming from whatever song that’s playing from his playlist. He tilts his head back, high off the feeling of you and the weed taking its course through his system.
“Shit, baby. ‘M about to cum.” He groans breathlessly, the upward thrusting motions he's setting now growing gradually in erraticism. You begin to match his pace, edging you both closer to your climaxes before warm spurts of thick white hit your abdomen paired with the whiny groan Kazutora lets out. His chest heaves until he’s jettisoning every last drop, eyes flickering open as you tilt his head down so that your eyes meet.
“Cum again for me, pretty boy.”
RINDOU.
You sit between Rindou’s legs, hand down the front of your panties, playing with your little clit while he leans down to meet your vacant gaze. “You want me to use you?” He questions, hands running up your neck and to your jaw where he slightly squishes your cheeks, watching the pretty pout that forms from it. “Mhm.” You mumble out.
There’s a sly smirk on his face when he pulls away from you, leaning back against the couch to teasingly undo his belt buckle from his slacks and free his hardening cock. You could practically drool at the sight of his thick, long length. He taps the head on your lips a few times before slipping himself into your mouth and down your throat.
“So fuckin’ tight.” He groans as he builds up a rough thrusting motion with his hips. Your fingers dip into your aching hole, fingering yourself at the same pace at which Rindou fucks your throat, elysian pleasure building up inside you. He lets out another deep groan at the sight of the bulge of his cock down your throat. If he isn’t careful enough, he’ll cum on the spot and he definitely doesn’t want that happening, not when you haven’t used those pathetic fingers of yours to make yourself cum yet.
He slips from your mouth slowly, giving you a second to catch your breath, and watches how a mix of pre-cum and spit connect you both before he taps the tip over your lips again, smearing the mess around that lip gloss-covered pout.
“Think you’re ready for me again?”
BAJI.
You’re pathetic, the way you rock yourself back on Baji’s cock like his hand isn’t resting on your back to keep you arched for him. You can hear him growl lowly at the sight of you attempting to take it all, hips trying to match his pace.
He slowly comes to a halt, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Make yourself cum, slut. Since you’re such a big fucking girl.” He ends his sentence with a slap to your ass as he straightens up, pulling both your hands behind your back and holding them in one of his large, ink decorated hands.
You whimper against the pillows as you pick up the pace at which you use him to get off. Muffled cries of “Fuck!” and “So big!” don’t go unnoticed by him and he places his free hand over the back of your neck, adding pressure to the sides. “So big? Is it too much for ya?” You nod your head to the best of your capabilities, slowing down the rutting of your hips. He picks up his own thrusts, continually slamming your hips back against him.
“Hm? You were so confident, now you feel like runnin’?” He mocks. “Take every fucking inch, no complaints.”
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