𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: allusions to past negative experiences, overall fluff
9:30am.
Pope had slept in. The sheets on the bed left of him went cold, absent of you. The door was cracked. Enough to let the fragrant simmer pot scent waft in but closed enough to muffle any too loud noises you would make while in the kitchen.
Andrew groaned and sat up from bed, adjusting his slanted basketball shorts and slipping on his Nike slides before entering the living room. “You didn’t wake me.”
“You needed the sleep.”
Clorox, Fabuloso, white towels and a grey mop bucket was scattered on the kitchen counter away from the one that was filled with eggs, bacon, and strawberry eggo waffles.
“It's Sunday.” Pope said with grit in his voice.
“Eat first.” You said annoyed.
Rather than arguing back first thing in the morning, Pope grabbed a paper plate and filled it with his favorites, leaving some for you. He lingered behind you, watching you stir a pot of dried apples, cinnamon sticks, rosemary sprigs, and other weird things in the water he couldnt identify. It smelt nice though.
Turning the stove off, you made your own plate and took a seat next to Pope at the counter. Dust particles floated around the room, reflecting the sun that poured in from the windows you had opened for fresh air. Unpacked boxes sat stacked up in the entryway.
Pope jolted, feeling your fingers graze over the back of his neck. He looked over at you, who had a soft smile on your face.
“It’s your only day off this week. We just got a new place,” You tilted your head while talking to him. “I wasn’t going to wake you up at 8 in the morning to clean. That’s boring.”
Pope shook his head and looked down at his almost empty plate. “I don’t need you here cleaning alone.”
“I’m okay with starting-”
“This is a group effort. We’re a team.”
You nodded. “We are.” Pope smiled and placed his hand on top of yours that was toying with his neck.
“What are we feeling today, Stevie Wonder?”
He nodded and stood from his chair. The two of you got to work as Stevie Wonder’s As played on the new standing record player you’d gotten for the house. You liked the idea of living near the beach but not directly on the beach. Pope’s old place held too many bad memories, and was up the street from where Baz was killed. Ventura was perfect. Not too far from what was familiar, but away enough to start something new. The sunsets even felt different, and you loved that Pope was considerate enough to get a house that got direct sunlight from the sunrises and sunlight from the sunset. The sun was good for you. He knew how your seasonal depression got when the seasons were changing.
Pope wore gloves as he scrubbed the baseboards with a scrub brush. You stood on a step stool and dusted off all the ceiling fans and too-high-to-reach places. Every once in a while he would crane his neck to look at you and make sure you were steady on the stool. You hummed along to every song playing on the record, mindlessly cleaning and sanitizing the new home. The house was too big to get it all done in one day, but most of your time spent together as a couple was spent in the living room and kitchen, so they had to be attacked first.
Pope was on the ground muttering to himself annoyed as he cleaned another dusty baseboard. “We could always hire cleaners, you know.”
“I can do it myself, thank you.” He hissed.
It was amusing how Andrew insisted on doing things hismelf. It was a man thing, you told yourself. He didn’t want you to stress about house searching, job searching, anything like that. He worked an honest job as a construction superintendent, good for the books so anyone federal looks away.
He liked his job. Bossing people around and destroying things and building them back up. What he did at his job is what you did for him. You gave him normalcy. He didn’t have to think about the past when you were around. All he thought of was how to provide for you. Make your life better. If you wanted to go to school, then you’d go. If you wanted to sit on the couch all day doing nothing, that was okay too.
It took about 3 hours to get a deep clean on the living room and kitchen. The final touch was to spill over the water and fabuloso mix on the tile floors and mop. Pope did that.
When he decided the floor was saturated enough he walked into the bedroom where he thought you’d be. The shower was running and steam seeped through the crack in the door, leaking into the bedroom. He smelled your bodywash and immediately began tugging off his clothes.
Chucking his discarded clothes into the hamper, he stepped into the shower behind you. You hummed and leaned your head against his chest, closing your eyes as he placed soft kisses on your shoulder, neck, and cheek.
“I like this.” His voice broke the sound of the hissing shower.
“Showering?”
He let out a guttral grunt. “Being here. With you.” He closed his eyes and nuzzled against you.
Pope couldn’t possibly verbalize how being with you felt, after everything. The air was crisper. The sun felt warmer. He was floating on earth behind you. His brain abandoned any memory that you weren’t a part of. His entire being was you. His life was about you now.
“Water too hot?”
“Hm?” He was shocked from his thoughts once again.
“Fallin asleep on me there.”
Pope sighed and shifted to grab his towel. The two of you washed off in silence. He never minded using your shampoo, conditioner, body wash, anything that reminded him of you, he accepted.
The sun was setting by the time the two of you got out of the shower. The orange, purple, and blue sky was visible from the skylight above the bed. Pope watched you sit at the vanity and lotion your body. Oil, powder, everything that girls did. He felt connected to you, watching the ritual every night. It never changed other than the fragrances you used. He found himself smelling the types of lotions you liked, making mental notes for when you needed a restock.
“You need some of this, you know.”
“No thank you.” He laid on his back, elevated by the decorative and practical pillows on the bed. You reached into one of the vanity drawers and pulled out a lotion, squeezed it so you could smell the non-fragrant air and tossed it over to him. “It doesn’t smell like anything. Use it.”
He sat up and took the bottle, smelling it himself before frowning. “Why can’t I use what you use?”
“Well the smell will be too strong in bed and you’ll complain and get a headache.”
“I won’t complain.”
“You hated that Sol de Janiero I wore.”
He shook his head. “Reminded me of bad times.”
You nodded in agreement. “I will never wear it again, I can tell you that.”
Pope finished his rushed job of rubbing lotion on his body and welcomed you with open arms into the bed. You laid on his chest as the sun finally disappeared under the ocean and escorted the moon to the sky. “Should we get a TV for the bedroom?”
Pope pondered for a moment.
“Nah.” You said before he could answer. Pope needed a place of quiet, and you wanted the bedroom to be his safe space.
“If you want.”
“Only in the living room. I’ll pick up a book if I need nighttime entertainment.”
“I can provide nighttime entertainment.”
You raised your hand and smacked his chest, eliciting a short chuckle from his lips.
“Guest rooms next weekend?”
Pope let out an exasperated sigh that caused you to laugh this time around.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Smut, Cursing, Arranged Marriage, mentions of devil worship, etc
𝐀/𝐧: guys I have the fanfic writer curse everything is happening to me I promise my drive is full of drafts. Anyways here’s a quick thing while I work on everything else.
A few hours to yourself after the wedding ceremony was just what you needed. A few hours is all it took for your life to change forever. No reception, no cake, no vows, just unholy blood oaths exchanged on a satanic altar.
Praise be to Le Bail.
Bathwater went cold an hour ago, still and clear. You hadn’t moved from your spot at the vanity since coming into the bathroom. Frozen, time felt. The lock on the bathroom door was horizontal waiting to be clicked upward and surrendered by your beloved husband.
Mrs. Danforth. Wife and beneficiary of Titus Danforth, heritor of the Danforth empire and the High Seat.
The Danforth’s were a quiet ruling family over the high council. Six families made up the council, with your family being one. Before the wedding you encountered Titus a few times, with few words. Nothing that was said would stick, not enough for a marriage to be proposed.
What terrified you most about marrying a Danforth was Titus himself. Ursula would’ve made a more suitable bachelorette if she wasn’t already married. His reputation preceded him. Impulsive, quick-to-anger, jocular, there wasn’t much to go off of when doing your personal investigation on him days before the wedding.
Many conceptions made of him in your mind came from YouTube. TED talks, meetings, college tours where he preached bullshit about hard work buying success. The corporate world ate straight from his hands.
There were rumors being spread on Reddit, some technically true ones, that credited seed investing or colonization for the Danforth’s success. None mentioned devil worship.
Titus wasn’t a man to marry, he was one to avoid. Strangely, he was you and your family's safety net.
The bathwater didn’t feel so bad when you finally garnered the courage to get in. Your eyes were still fixed on the lock and the quiet that seeped through the crack in the frame. Was he on the other side? Waiting? Titus talked about spending most of his free time in New York. Perhaps he’d taken off after the ceremony to indulge in one of his consorts. Men like him kept women in every country.
Apple, Microsoft, Samsung, those technological companies that dominated the American markets were your family’s doing. Investing for family. You were related to those founders one way or another. Being the youngest of the family, you were often overlooked. Money came easily, you lived a lavish life but when your father finally dies, you would get close to nothing, not if your brothers helped it.
The water turned milky and warmed with your movements. There wasn’t much of the day left on your skin to scrub off.
“No matter what you will be on the council.”
Fathers words echoed in your mind.
The High Seat belonged to Titus’s father, Chester. Chester died, the High Seat was left vulnerable. Everyone knew that it would either be the L/n’s or Danforth's getting that seat. The union solidified that.
You were getting sick of the bathroom, the cold water, the ambient lighting. Using your foot to click the drain and get rid of the water, you stood and stepped out the basin into a robe. The vanity was littered with body and skin care that they likely took from your home in Tribeca.
“Have kids and we’ll never struggle for power again. Don’t you understand, you will be the most powerful woman in the world.”
“Only because of my husband!” You snapped back.
It hurt to be reduced to the wife of the High Seat. You had a life. Friends, money, a studio apartment in one of the most expensive neighborhoods in America, and that was all overlooked because of one vow.
May death do us part.
Titus smiled wickedly. He knew you didn’t want this. A young woman with her entire life ahead of her marrying a 50 year old for the sake of strengthening the bond between two families. Both of you had a role to play. The relieving part for you was knowing that your great-great-great grandchildren would never have to want for anything. Gluttonous and full of sloth they would be. A worthy sacrifice in your eyes.
The robe on your body had the Danforth insignia on it. Obnoxious, but a reminder of who you were now.
You opened the door to the ensuite and froze seeing Titus in an armchair, facing the unlit fireplace, puffing on a cigar. He waited.
“Did I keep you long?” You asked to extinguish the silence.
He took a drag of the cigar. “No.” The odious smell filled your nose to your disgust. It was sweet smelling, not as bad as a cigarette. “Cuban.” He spoke again. The way your face grimaced at the scent of the cigar didn’t go unnoticed by him. “Not a smoker, hm?”
You shook your head. Titus let out a deep sigh. The vice of his was something you would have to get used to as time passed. That was the downsides of marrying an older man, they didn’t do a lot of mind changing.
He nodded to the changing divider at the opposite side of the room, then he turned to the fireplace to give you a semblance of privacy. A nightgown was folded over the top of the divider for you to change into.
A sheer gown, a lacy bra, and thong. The butterflies started when you realized Titus intended to honor every aspect of this union.
“If the bra doesn’t fit, leave it off.” His gruff voice echoed from the other side of the room. You dropped your robe and put on the garments.
The bra was too small, or at least it wasn’t full coverage. The top half of your breasts were exposed, nipples threatening to spill out. You adjusted the bra in the mirror to no avail.
“I…This isn’t full coverage.” You cleared your throat.
“Leave it off.”
Internally you screamed. You took off the bra and discarded it on the mahogany floor, then moved to put on the gown. At least the gown would give you some sort of coverage.
Nope. The nightgown was sheer. Stopping right at the hips and offering no coverage for vanity purposes.
Nothing would be concealed from him tonight.
“You okay back there?”
Zoning out was a habit you would have to break if you were married.
“M’fine.”
Titus was sitting on the edge of the bed when you finally decided to emerge from behind the divider. His eyes scanned you, cigar abandoned on the tray dying out.
He stood and met you halfway. “I’ll…buy you a bigger size next time.” His arm jerked upwards to cup your boob, but he paused. An inhale through his nose and he finally touched you, holding on to your torso so the fat of your breast fell over his index and middle finger.
“I didn’t mean to take so long,” You apologized. “Had I known we would-”
“Consummate?” His fingertips flexed into your flesh. “I take my vows to Le Bail very seriously.”
He guided you to sit on the mattress in front of him, “Open.” He commanded and snaked his thumb inside your mouth. You swallowed any saliva you were holding and took him in.
“That didn’t take too much.” He muttered and watched you with a lax mouth. “Didn’t have much opposition to the marriage did you?”
You shook your head.
“Smart girl. You know what's at stake.” He pulled his thumb out to rub your bottom lip, saliva making the motion even more slippery. “Not only did I need that seat, I appreciate beauty.” He stepped back and began tugging off his vest and undershirt, revealing his well-built 50-year-old body. You crossed your legs when you suddenly throbbed between your legs.
“Having a pretty thing like you as a wife, without all the courting, the work, the…drama was just too good an offer to pass up.” Titus then kneeled into the bed next to you, tapping your knee to get your legs uncrossed. He reached into your thin underwear and ran his middle finger along your smooth folds. An exhale left your lips. “Has anyone touched you here before?” His voice pitched.
You knew better than to lie, but you knew with men like him you had to give him a show. A false sense of power. To make them think that they were special.
“No.” A head shake accompanied your answer.
“No?” His finger entered you. With a gasp, his face brightened.
The mattress hit your back, becoming a grounding for you. Your eyes fluttered shut and the feeling of his finger dragging along your walls was the only thing consuming your mind. He leaned over and displaced a kiss on your lips, a peck, unlike the kiss he gave you at the altar.
“How about two?” He inserted his index finger. The sudden stretch made you breathless. His fingers curled upwards, stroking your walls. It was becoming a lot.
Circling your hand around his wrist he slowed, then stopped. His fingers left you with a ‘pop’, leaving you used and empty. Titus began working on his belt again, pulling the leather from the trouser loops and dropping them to his ankles. “Come ‘ere.” He pulled you closer to the eye of the bed. When you tried to sit up, he pushed back with a kiss. His tongue dragged across your lips.
Lips, neck, he trailed his teeth along your jugular. Collarbone, sternum, “Gown off.”
He backed up enough so you could properly remove the gown. Titus moved forward and sank his teeth into your breasts before the fabric could even hit the sheets. It didn't hurt, but it was enough to elicit a moan from your lips. His tongue flicked over the bud of your nipple, causing the throb in your panties to get more violent. A long groan marinated over your chest along with the warmth of his mouth.
“Titus,” You called his name for the first time that night. He tugged on and away from your nipple with his teeth. Trailing his nose down your abdomen he inhaled your scent, your youth, your ‘purity’. “I was right to say yes.” He knelt in front of the mattress, hooked his fingers around your waistband and pulled your thong off with ease.
He let out a guttural moan seeing a string of arousal from your thong snap back against your entrance. You bit your bottom lip and pulled your legs back to give him access.
A few hours ago you would’ve been repulsed at the way you were acting. Desperate, needy, wanting. Your body reacted to the sight of him, the sounds he made, the cracks and pitches in his voice when he was teasing you.
You would never have your hands entangled in his grey-brown hair, digging your nails into his scalp while squirming under him. You would never curl your toes and tense up when you felt his tongue circle your clit for the hundredth time.
“Titus I’m coming!” You whimpered out. He didn’t respond. His lips never left your clit, sucking until you leaked all over him.
Titus was entranced by the pleasure he was able to bring out of you. He had sex all the time, with women all across the world, but there was something different about you. His wife. Even splayed across his bed you were sweet, carried yourself with a class none of the women he fucked had. The High Council effect. You watched Titus stand and suck the fingers that had just been inside of you. His boxers were bunched at the crotch with evidence he had been fondling himself.
“Ready for me?” He climbed over you. With a mind of their own your hands reached down to drag his boxers down until he kicked them off.
“Mhm.” You nodded.
“Yeah?” He breathed against your lips.
You were prepared enough, slicked up with his saliva and your juices. He stretched you when he pushed into you, being thicker than anyone you’d been with before.Your bottom lip was strained between the two rows of teeth. Canines almost breaking flesh from how hard you were biting. Toes were curling, nails digging into his vein-lined biceps, wounding him.
Titus found a rhythm and watched your face contort in different ways as he rocked into you. His grunts were minimal. He wanted to hear you. “Tell me what you need.” He placed a soft kiss to your lips then dragged them over to your ear.
It wasn’t hard to immerse yourself in him. His stomach on yours. The ‘whooshing’ of his breath in your ear. His hands that gripped your thighs to hold you in place. The stubble on his chin rubbing on your cheek.
“I-I want more.” You broke the silence. His hand trailed to the underside of your thigh and positioned your leg up and outwards.
“More like this?” He slowed his thrusts and rocked his hips upward to get deeper. You gasped and placed your fingertips on his pelvis. “Mhm.” You moaned.
Titus buried himself to the hilt, groaning as the pleasure flowed through his body. “F-fuck you feel so fuckin’” his words turned to breathy grunts. His brain and body were on two different wavelengths. Sweet nothings left his mouth but never processed in his brain. Everything he said registered in yours. “I’m gonna love you so much.” His exhale tickled the vellus hairs in your ear. He placed a kiss on your neck and simultaneously rolled his hips, getting dangerously close to your cervix.
“Titus?” You curled your toes, coming close to your peak. Pathetic. You didn’t know how to call for him. How to tell him you were coming undone around him, but by the feel of staggering friction and jerk thrusts he was coming close to his peak as well. That familiar pit was forming in his stomach but Titus was a fighter. He wasn’t going to come until you did. Him being your ‘first’ meant he had to set a precedent of how sex with him was going to be, but by the way you were calling his name and whimpering uncertainly, he knew you were entangled in him.
“Shit!” He cursed three times before finishing in you. It took the warmth of his spurting in you to realize that neither one of you was wearing proper protection. Mid-orgasm he pulled out, leaving you fluttering and jerking around nothing. He removed himself from the bed and disappeared into the ensuite. Your body was sore when you moved to roll over, melting into the mattress and dwelling in ignorance.
Hi Guys! I know I have been pretty bad this year and last when it comes to posting consistently. I try and drop one fic/wk to keep you guys satiated but I was extremely burnt out, I would write but never post.
Explanation: I was/am in my final weeks of undergrad and I graduate in a month with a BA in English, YAY!
I work ALL weekend EVERY weekend and it takes so much out of me I usually drag during the week. But I am so ready to get back on a schedule and post again. I'm manifesting great things for myself and without uni work or toxic job i'll finally be able to start my novel and be more active on tumblr.
I thank those of you who have been with me since my Wattpad days. I also appreciate all of you guys who have been with me through fandom switches and hyperfixations.
ALSO I hear you Billy and Stu fans. I haven't forgotten about y'all. <3
I loved your pillow talk fic!! Would you write similar stories?
Absolutely yes!!!! I’m in my Shawn Hatosy era so I want to write more for his characters. But I LOVE Titus Danforth so the next few fics will be for him/similar content😘
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: attempting to kill your husband didn't go as planned
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, cnc, choking, mentions of murder, attempted murder, mentions of death, CHOKING!!!, corruption, power imbalance, etc
𝐀/𝐧: shawn hatosy is my new fixation so...........also I'll edit this later maybe i'm extremely burnt out
Having a husband that ruled the world came with its ups and downs. Who wouldn’t want any and everything they ever wanted when they wanted it. Clothes, trips, businesses, parties, it was a glamorous life for a woman like you, but then there was Titus. He was sweet when he wanted to be, but when he got angry, everyone was going to feel it. You tried your best to satiate him. Make love to him when it seemed like he had a rough day, indulge in his occasional drug splurge. yes, yes, never no because when you told the holder of the High Seat no, then you subjected yourself to one of his tirades.
The first few months of the marriage was rough. He wanted to see how much he could get away with. Chester, his father, had never let his trivial stints of power show in such a public manner like Titus did. Titus would begin stupid wars and cease them to win stupid, petty bets. He wanted to build a skyscraper bigger than the one in New York just to trample the record under his leather-clad boots. He even took advantage of being a devotee of Le Bail and caused superstitious happenings just to get in a “I told you so.” To his friends who were oblivious to his involvement with the devil.
As the wife of the man who held the High Seat you did your best to right his wrongs through charity work and hospitality. You became known for donating to foundational causes, building wells across the world, building schools in impoverished places, paying people livable wages, many people didn’t even know you were responsible for the resurrection of the Applachian. You were a saint, aside from your dealings with the devil.
There's no rule about killing a family member.
You never forgot the sound of Ursula’s neck snapping the day of your wedding. When you found yourself alone, or in the dark, you heard it echoing around you. Her face. Her blue lips. It was etched in your eyelids, and everytime you laid next to your fateful husband you were reminded of his bout of strength.
You wondered if you would be able to fight back when he snapped.
Surprisingly, he had never laid a hand on you. He’s subjected you to some harsh, unloving words and petty punishments like cutting off your cards, but he hadn’t hit you, not yet.
The anticipation of when was killing you, and you began to keep your eyes open when he slept next to you. His sleep schedule was so irregular. Some nights you expected to fall asleep before he returned, and other nights he was already in bed before you even made it home, but Titus always made a habit to sleep anywhere you were.
After a long day of consultations and meetings for your next humane project, you saw Titus fast asleep in the master bedroom. He was in his trousers and a t-shirt, laying on top of the covers rather than under. You huffed in annoyance but disappeared into the bathroom to wash the day away. By the time you finished in the ensuite you would’ve expected him to undress and properly go to bed in time with you, but he didn’t.
“Titus.” You stood over him in your night gown. He didn’t move.
The bed was annoyingly small for how big the room is. A california king should’ve been the standard, but he insisted on a queen bed, so he could keep better track of you. You pulled the covers back and got under what you could, half the comforter was trapped by his weight.
“Titus.” You said again, louder.
Titus let out a snore, then lulled his head to the side so he was facing away from you.
“Titus!” You shouted more annoyed. He didn’t move, you didn’t know if he was being an ass or if he was deep in sleep.
In defeat you had to lay ontop of the covers like he did. You turned on your side to face him, angry face ready. But he was still. Had it happened? You placed your finger under his nose. You felt the warm air. Damnit.
There were some nights where you had hoped he would bite the dust in his sleep like his father.
You would have the High Seat. You would make things better.
The next morning at dinner he sat across from you reading a newspaper.
PRESIDENT OF MEXICO IN U.S CUSTODY!!!
“Finally I was sick of that fucker.” Titus grumbled. He coughed a few times and sniffled. Your head jolted up.
“Not feeling so well, darling?”
Titus closed the newspaper and set it on the table. He shifted and took a sip of his coffee from his mug. “I’m fine. Just a little backed up.” He strained against another cough.
“Shall I call-”
“You’re not calling anyone.” He snapped. “I’m busy today and I’m not spending the day hooked up to a machine.”
“It’s good for you. It’ll help you feel better.”
He rolled his eyes and began eating his breakfast. You had finished before him, leaving the table and walking over behind him. “Let me know if you change your mind.” You placed the back of your hand against his neck, then his head. He was warm. Getting sick.
Even those who ruled the world weren’t safe from illness.
Days passed, Titus got worse. He still didn’t want to call his doctor or get set up with an appointment with IV fluids to make himself better. He was determined to beat this head on. You played the caring wife, feeding him cream of wheat with butter in the mornings, soup for lunch and dinner. This carried on for two days before he got pissy.
“I don’t want this shit.” he growled, knocking the bowl of hot soup out of your hands. You hissed when the contents singed your hand for a moment. You stood. “You need something warm and hearty.”
“I’ve been eating that shit for three days. It’s clearly not fucking working.”
You sighed, “I’ll have them make you steak. Rare. But you need to drink the miso soup to help with digestion.”
“I’m a grown ass man. I don’t need help with my digestion.”
Every word he spoke lit another match in your system. He was pissing you off terribly. Keeping out the way, the thing you were best at, is what you did, and you watched him wait for his food. It was late, it was rude to have the chef cooking at this hour, but he never cared.
You mouthed ‘sorry’ to the servants when they entered a few moments later with fresh food for him. Luckily Titus didn’t notice or else he’d scold you for apologizing. The servants left and he started eating. This was similar to most nights when the two of you turned in early. Classical music, you with a book by the fire, him eating his dinner while scrolling on his phone or watching you.
Immersed in your book an hour passed. You had shut out everyone and thing from your senses. Without looking at him you closed your book and stood. “I think tonight you should sleep in-” He was asleep on top of the covers again, this time in his underwear.
You grumbled and walked over. “Titus!” You shouted. He didn’t move. You pressed your fingertips into his shoulder to see if he’d move, he didn’t. “Titus?” You leaned closer to him. He was still. You extended your finger under his nose to see if he was breathing. The warm air caused no shock to your system. He was being an asshole.
“Titus, please.” You huffed, “It’s cold as hell in here.”
He still didn’t move.
You felt yourself getting annoyed again, but this time you weren’t going to sit and take it. Getting in the bed on your side didn’t disturb him at all. Your knees sank into the mattress as you scooted closer to him. He was sick, defenseless, stubborn in his ways, but vulnerable. The frilled pillow found itself in your hands, you leaned over.
The High Seat. You would take him for everything. You’d never killed anyone on purpose before, especially not for something as trivial as this. He was rubbing off on you.
“Titus.” Him waking up would’ve been a sign for you. To not go through with this, to just take the guest room and leave him be. But he didn’t
When he didn’t move, you placed the pillow over his face. You put your body weight into pressing the pillow against his face. He wasnt struggling. You leaned further, knuckles turning white as you put your strength into suffocating him.
Titus’s hand gripped your wrist and without much effort he yanked you down to fall across his lap. Your heart wasn’t in it. Not enough pressure. You lost your handing on the pillow and was faced with a very angry-looking Danforth.
Fuck.
He grabbed you by the nape of your neck and pulled you up, quickly overpowering you. He threw his weight on top of you and pinned you down to the mattress. His hand went from the nape to the front, squeezing you, strangling you.
“You fuckin kidding me?” He scoffed. “I don’t want your shitty soup and you try to kill me?”
You gasped for air and used both hands to hold his wrist, attempting to alleviate the pressure.
“You didn’t think I noticed you shoving your finger in my fucking nose every night?” His grip got tighter and the adrenaline pulsed throughout your body. He was going to kill you, just like his sister.
“Fuck I can’t-” He huffed and released his hands from your neck, but he still hovered over you.
The coughs that filled the room after came from asphyxiation and illness.
“You make your wants so fuckin obvious.” He wheezed. “I knew you wanted me fuckin dead but you had to wait until I was sick?”
You held your neck and looked at him, shellshocked.
“Oh don’t play shocked now, wife.” He tilted his head. “I’m not gonna kill you…if that’s what you’re afraid of. But you will get punished for that.”
His eyes darted to the pearls that rested across your collar bone. The pearls he had bought you, most expensive on the planet. A wedding gift. The fucking audacity you had. He yanked the necklace, snapping it against your neck. Pearls dancing across the mattress and floor. He reached for his discarded pants and took the belt from the waistband.
“Sit up.” he barked.
“Titus-”
“Shut up, and sit up!”
Mindlessly you let him wrap the belt around your neck. He whistled as he looped the strap around your neck and tightened it on the last hole of the buckle. You let out a cry of fear when he tugged on the strap. He had you trapped. You believed him when you said he wasn’t going to kill you, but he was gonna make you wish you’d never wish him dead.
“Not so fun now, hm?” He mocked you with that high-pitched voice. “Face the frame.”
You closed your eyes and did as told, hoping he wouldn’t snap your neck during this. Cool air hit your behind before the shuffling started. Titus wet his lips with his tongue looking at you. “Don’t fuckin move.” He lined up at your entrance and pushed into you. The warmth and his thickness gave you another kind of satisfaction that material items couldn’t. Biting, your lip, you had forgotten that this wasn’t any other night. Suddenly, he tugged the belt strap, yanking your head back.
“Shit!” You exclaimed in fear.
“‘Shit’, is right.” He rolled his hips to gauge the pace he wanted to go. When he found it, he inhaled through his nose and bucked his hips against you at a steady pace. It wasn’t rough, not yet, but it was enough to make you forget the predicament you were in. Whether it was him or Le Bai, Titus had a way of getting people to let their guard down. Your brain was throttled between cumming on him and fighting back against him.
“Sh- you feel so fuckin good.” He muttered, using his hand to hold your waist. The sounds of your ass bouncing off his pelvis echoed throughout the room, it was no secret to the servants what you two were doing. Falling victim to his minstrations, you bit your lip and dropped your head down again. “Stop that!’ He snapped, yanking the belt strap towards him once again.
The bedframe was just in reach. You grabbed it like it was the lifeline saving you from damnation. From his torture.
“I fucking told you, you’re gonna pay.” He wrapped the strap around his fist once, securing his grip. He pulled so you lost your handing on the rail.
“Titus!” You cried out, but he ignored you. A tickly feeling filled your stomach while your vision got spotty. His grunts got more pronounced, more monstrous. The metal ends of the buckle dug into the skin of your throat, sure to leave a bruise.
“Touch that strap and i’ll kill you.” He growled seeing your hands pry at the metal buckle.
“It hurts!” You cried out.
“Oh it hurts, yeah?” His voice always went high when he was mocking you. “You didn’t think it hurt me? Trying to suffocate me in my fucking sleep?” He punctuated every word with a hard thrust.
“I'm sorry!” Your thighs trembled as you began to leak all over him. He fucking loved when you lost control.
His orgasm came crashing over him simutaneously, spilling inside you and knuckles whitening against the leather strap. When his dick stopped throbbing he let go of the belt strap. “Fuck, that was so hot.”
Titus ignorantly got off the bed and stood, holding his lower back and bending backwards while you coughed and caught your breath, defeated. He turned back seeing your exhausted state. “Come here.” He kneeled on the bed again and unlatched the belt buckle. The belt loosened from its restraints.
Your eyes locked with his as he inspected your face. Watery eyes, reddened neck, soiled nightgown, a masochist dream. He wrapped his large hand around your neck, not squeezing, but still prompting a jolt from you. “That wasn’t nice.” He said, “I actually like you. So don’t do that again. Okay?”
“Okay.” You rasped.
No one was really sure what transpired that night, but they could only assume based off of the black lace chokers you wore around your neck the following weeks. Titus finally agreed to that IV treatment you were talking about even though he was feeling better. He ‘put his sickness in you’, so the IV treatment was a coupled activity.
The shock from that night hadn’t left your body, he knew this. Everytime he passed his finger grazed the choker, reminding you both of what he’d do the next time you tried the occupant of the High Seat.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none really, just some fluff, comfort for our widower
𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Tonowari’s undereyes were darkened from the lack of sleep he’s gotten for the past few days. It felt like the loss of his mate was still yesterday. Tsireya and Aonung offered to help plenty of times, but Tonowari insisted, as he did not want to burden his children.
The crying is what drove him up the walls.
All night Pril spent crying; face red and cheeks wet as she screamed in her fathers arms. Tonowari was thankful that his pod was away from the village. He didn’t want anyone to know how bad he was at this. He shushed the young creature and rocked her in his arms to no avail.
He tried everything he saw his late wife do, his pinky finger, warm milk, sleeping near a fire, but he just couldn’t get Pril to settle down. The rebound was tortuous, as the baby typically settled during the day, but never allowed her father a restful night.
After jolting awake one last time, Tonowari swallowed his pride and stood with his youngest. He carried the wailing child through the village, quickly, as to not disturb anyone, and came to an all too familiar pod.
You and Ronal grew up together. Sisters not bonded by blood. She had her Tulkun spirit sister, but you were her na’vi spirit sister. After her death you threw yourself into work, running your food service tent day in and out. You’d offered to help Tonowari with anything, knowing how sensitive he was, but he was stubborn and insisted he could do it himself.
Luckily you happened to be awake that night.
You furrowed your eyebrows hearing a fussy child outside. You didn’t need to move as Tonowari stepped inside the pod. You immediately looked at his tired expression and held your hands out for the child, He walked over and placed little Pril in your arms, and immediately the child stopped crying. You watched Tonowari’s small ears curl in as he soaked in the very obvious rejection of his youngest.
“Rest.” You said to him, nodding towards the cot.
Tonowari walked over to the hammock and laid down, his eyes magnetically closed. He didn’t know how long he was asleep, but when he woke up it was still eclipse. Tonowari scrambled out of the hammock and rushed out the marui to find the two of you.
It was dinner time, you sat in a circle of clan members, eating smoked fish and rocking back and forth as the baby Pril laid against your chest. Tsrieya was right next to you, cooing to the baby between bites of food.
Tonowari walked over, legs like jello, and planted himself in the sand.
“You slept for two days straight. You need water and food. Go eat.” You commanded. He wanted to protest but was in shock, he walked, got himself a wrap and began eating, saturating himself.
“You look better father.” Tsireya commented.
Tonowari nodded at his daughter and then raised his head to look over at Pril. The baby was awake, looking around with her little glossy eyes.
“Has she been-“
“A pain in the ass, no.”
He kept quiet for a few moments, but you turned to him and sighed. “You need to make a choice. Wallow in your grief or step up for your child, either way you’ll-”
“That is not a question. I will step up.” He said, desperate.
“Babies are connected to their parents even beyond tsaheylu.” You explained. “Pril knows her father is sad, he’s hurting, so she’s hurting.” You looked at Tonowari. “Mawey.”
Tonowari took a deep breath and held out his arms as you began to hand Pril over. The baby looked up at her father, quiet for only a moment before crying loudly again. Tonowari’s heart broke and he handed her back to you. The baby calmed.
You placed your hand on Tonowari’s shoulder. “It will take time. Don’t let this discourage you. She’s still so little.”
Tonowari nodded, allowing the tears to well in his eyes. “I will watch her. You are still Olo’eyktan. But I promise, we will be by your side, majority of the time.”
Tonowari agreed.
You were a godsend for Tonowari. He was able to rest and dedicate himself to his duties all while spending enough time with you and Pril. In the mornings he made sure to visit for breakfast, then commit to his training. He came back around mid-day just to see the baby again. Deliberations, then when the sun was setting he joined you for meditation. This continued for weeks.
“Keep your eyes closed.” You snapped at him mid-meditation. “Deep breath. 2, 3, hold. Release.”
Tonowari was no stranger to these breathing practices, but they were only ever to train underwater, not relaxation.
“Arms out, up, deep breath. Hold.” You directed. “Arms down, release.”
You placed Pril in Tonowari’s arms. “Again, deep breath in, hold, hold, hold.”
Tonowari felt his heart leap out of his chest when he felt his daughter. She wasn’t crying. As much as he wanted to embrace her fully, he continued to breathe, staying relaxed.
When you stopped, he finally opened his eyes. He looked down at the kicking baby, “Oh.” He let out a breath and offered his finger to his child. You smiled at the small interaction and looked back up at Tonowari.
“You did a good job with Tsireya and Aounung.” You said comfortingly, “You will do great with Pril.”
“Not without you.” He looked at you and shook his head.
“I need your help. I need you. Help me raise her.”
You felt your heart flutter at his plea. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll help.”
A/n: This is a little drabble that is meant to hold y’all over for the time being this semester is kicking my ass BAD.
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Neytiri is getting better, which means Jake has to enjoy his last few moments with you
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Cheating, Age-gap, manipulation, cursing, vulgar language, mentions of guilt, jake being a typical cheating male
𝐀/𝐧: I lowkey have no excuse but I do. Over the past month i've been swarmed with Uni work, dental surgery, family emergencies, etc, so I haven't been active. But I owe you guys this fic and another for those who stuck around. Love y'all! I'll edit later...i'm tired once again.
𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
It was supposed to be a one time thing. A pacifier for Jake until Neytiri came back around. But it wasn’t.
He allowed his eyes to linger on you when he saw you around the village. His hands found a way to brush against your flesh anytime you walked past. His favorite thing to do was sneak a smooch or two in passing when you found yourselves in a dark corner of the village. Jake was infatuated.
He loved when you got submissive in bed. You addressed him with nothing but admiration, respect, and want. He loved how quiet you were, refraining from gossiping with your friends and not drawing any attention to your many disappearances throughout the day. He loved how you could take him one hour and get back to work like he didn’t have you crying his name moments prior.
But what he loved most was that you weren't contaminated by trauma.
You didn’t jump at loud noises or reach for your knife when things seemingly went wrong. You say back and let the men handle it, opposite to his wife.
There was something subconsciously human about you. That made it easier for him to defile you.
His hand gripped his cock as he pumped himself. He groaned and kept his tip on your tongue, maintaining eye contact with you as you sat ready for his orgasm. Your tongue flexed around his cockhead and he jerked his brows. Jake placed a light slap on your cheek, “Keep still.” You stilled your tongue.
“Shit I’m gonna fuckin- shit!” He cursed as he came undone, spurting ropes of come in your mouth. Before you could swallow he leaned down and gave you a wet kiss, holding the back of your neck with his large hand to keep you close.
Before Jake, you had plenty of sexual experiences with other na’vi men, but it was nothing like the things he’d taught you. You two didn’t take the fun out of sex, from dressing up and roleplay, to rough, domineering sex. He knew when to soften up, and when to toughen up. He knew how to read you, fuck you the way you needed, and get back to work.
Hiding the affair didn’t take much effort considering the Olo’eyktan and craftswoman of the clan weren’t usually buddy-buddy. Even when he came to your tipi, everyone assumed it was for a new loincloth or weapon holster adjustment.
“Y/n, you in here?” Jake ducked into your Tipi.
You turned and gave him a big smile but it faltered seeing Neytiri duck in after him, looking around.
“Olo’eytkan, Tsakarem.” Your voice lowered. “How may I assist you?”
When Neytiri was looking at the assortment of beads on the wall you glared at Jake. He held a hand up and nodded, she wasn’t here to confront you.
“Majake tells me you have…pieces of hometree?”
You nodded. “I have some damaged trinkets from the tree, collected from those before me. But wood is more tricky.” You walked over and pulled out a map from one of your compartments. “Upon request, I personally go down to the ground to find hometree remnants, wood. Many of the older na’vi request things to be made from them, blades, charms, anything that reminds them of what was.”
Neytiri looked at Jake then walked out the Tipi. Both of you said nothing. She returned with her bow, the bow that belonged to the former Olo’eyktan.
“My son was able to repair this from the mangroves of Awa’atlu.” She turned it to show you the handiwork. “I want a casing, a handle made from the woods of hometree, if you can.” She was sheepish with her request, odd for the wife of Olo’eyktan.
“Yes.” You nodded and gave her a warm smile. “I will do it. I will need to travel to the ground, but considering the recent events-.”
“We’ve already discussed that.” Jake spoke up, arms crossed on his chest. “I along with a few of my men will accompany you to the ground. An old RDA base and drill is there…we think.” There was a glint in his eye when he looked at you. “We can’t go and lose our best craftswoman.”
Neytiri giggled in agreement. “Thank you, may the great mother be with you.” She said before leaving.
Jake lingered behind, looking down at the satchel you had slumped over in the corner. “We’ll leave in a few days, bring the bags you need.”
The excitement and reassurance from Jake overpowered the fear you had of Neytiri. After seeing how ready she was to trust you with this task, you no longer suspected that she suspected you. You felt no guilt.
Jake on the other hand was still at war with himself. Seeing the smile on Neytiri’s face when you agreed to help her with her bow made his heart melt, but seeing you just a few feet away made his dick throb in his breeches. There was something so erotic knowing that one snap would have you writing underneath him and moaning in his ear.
He sat next to his wife peeling a banana leaf to get to his food. He knew once Neytiri got her bow back, she would be fighting by his side. Good, he needed the help, but that also meant she wouldn’t leave his side. Two steps behind him wherever he went, he would have to cut you off completely.
This trip would need to be a long one, not one completed in just a few hours. He needed to have an orgasm that he would remember on his death bed.
“It will take us a day, maybe more.” He accepted Neytiri's embrace as she held her arms around his waist. “I’ll find the best for you.” He placed a kiss on her temple. “Then it’s back to work.” He walked away from her and mounted his ikran.
You and Jake were only accompanied by two other warriors. This trip was low-stakes one, no threats were expected.
The group landed and Jake laid out a map, giving the two directions to search and recover anything from the presumed to be abandoned RDA base. “I will personally escort Y/n to hometree, hoot if anything happens.” He commands. The two nodded and split from the two of you.
“Gonna put me over your knee now?” You jumped to tease him.
“For what? Have you done something?”
“No.” You said.
Jake smiled and tilted his head, “is that jealousy I’m sensing?”
“No. Not that I’m not jealous.”
“Then what are you?” You shrugged. You weren’t lying to him, you weren’t jealous but you were on-edge. Deep down you knew this thing between the two of you was coming to an end.
The two of you silently traveled through the forest, pushing past vines and other plants to get to the wreckage. You sighed looking at the crackled and split hometree, most of the wood was burnt to a crisp. It was like seeing large splinters in Pandora’s flesh.
“I go left, you go right?” You said taking a step.
“Wha- nuh uh.” Jake grabbed your bicep. “You’re not splitting up with me.”
“Cover more ground. You of all people should know that.” The corner of your lips quirked and you walked off.
Jake caught the hint and went on his own. At first, he actually looked through the rubble, but as time passed he found himself disinterested in the task at hand. He stopped himself and turned on his heels, making his way to your side of the tree. The closer he got to the rightmost side of the wreckage the more dense the burnt wood got.
“Y/n!” He called out for you, no response.
He held his gun close to his body, keeping his steps light.
“Y/n!” His voice was more rough, getting annoyed with the game you were playing. At his last call he heard a whoop that wasn’t quite right. An arrow swished past his face, missing, hitting the ground behind him. He looked in the direction the arrow came from and saw you, holding your bow. He licked his teeth seeing you in the Mangkwan get up again, face and torso painted with clay.
“I like a woman who keeps me on my toes.” He drawled. He then pulled out his blade.
You hissed at him and darted away from him, running through the ruins while he chased you. Jake was athletic by nature, lunging over branches and dunking until he was right on your heels. Eventually he took hold of the band that was pulled tight across your breasts.
Pure luck had hit the both of you seeing an unscathed piece of the hometree, it was the protruding root, but it was free from burns. “Hands on the surface.” He walked you to the trunk and pressed your back to bend you over. You instinctively sprawled over, spreading your legs apart.
“I don’t even gotta tell you what to do anymore.” He said lowly, hand panning over your back.
It would take a miracle for his dick to unlearn you.
He bared his teeth and hissed, pushing himself off of you.
“What.” You sighed and turned around, breaking the fantasy for just that moment.
“We shouldn’t.”
You didn’t react. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Jake looked taken aback. “That’s it? Okay. You’re not even gonna protest?”
“Whatever is said goes right?”
“Don’t fuckin look at me like that.” Jake snapped. He stepped to you. “It’s not- fuck.” He shook his head. “We both know we need to stop this.” He said sternly.
“Then let’s stop.” You began to walk past him but he grabbed your bicep. You froze. He nuzzled the side of your face.
“I can’t.” He grabbed your hand and placed it on his crotch. “Shit…I fucking told myself this would be the last time but….”
You took his face and kissed him deeply. He hummed and pushed his tongue down your throat, licking, tasting every crevice of your mouth.
He grunted and flipped you back on the trunk, tugging back on the band that covered your nipples.
He leaned forward as he worked off his breeches. “That hurt?”
You nodded. “It burns Olo’eyktan.”
He grabbed his knife and sliced the band, freeing your tits.
Your lip found the fat of your lip feeling the rough wood against your flesh. Jake kept hold of your bicep with one hand while the other tugged at his breeches. He freed his hard cock from its restraints and slapped it against your ass before pulling your loose loincloth to the side. “Fuck…” He sucked his teeth as he slid into you with ease.
Jake began working his hips against your ass, pacing himself. He released your bicep and grabbed a handful of your tits, squeezing them hard enough so the flesh bursts between his fingers.
“I changed my mind.” His voice wavered, “We can’t stop.” He licked the edge of your ear. “I’ll find a way to this pussy.”
You whimpered and dug the flats of your fingers into the tree trunk. “Fu- Jake. No.” You whined. “We have to stop.” Your words didn't reflect what you felt deep in your soul. You’d hoped he’d ignore your weak attempt at being righteous. You closed your eyes and groaned, relishing the feeling of his length dragging in and out of you, bumping and hitting every sweet spot inside. “This is the last time. We gotta-“
“You tellin your Olo’eyktan what to do?”
You whimpered and felt your walls flutter around him. “N-no sir.”
“That’s what it sounds like you’re doing.” He placed a harsh smack to your ass.
You cried out. His grip on your flesh got tighter and his hips snapped stiffly as he felt himself reaching his peak. “Shit.” At the same moment the two of you tensed and came undone, right there on the trunk in the middle of the forest. Panting, coming down, neither one of you had noticed or cared that he spilled inside of you.
Jake pulled out and nodded to the ground, “I’m not done.” He said stripping himself of his guns and gear, leaving himself vulnerable. You did the same, laying on your back, spreading your legs. He didn’t bother with teasing, sliding right back into you. Your hands ran down the sides of his torso and rested at his lower back. He held himself up with his forearms and placed kisses on your lips and cheeks. “Be my mistress.” He began rolling his hips in a circle, gliding in and out your slick canal.
“What? You’re crazy.” You ran your hands back up to caress his broad back.
“I know I'm crazy. I’ll take care of you.” He punctuated with a deep thrust which caused you to whine. “I’ll come see you. Keep you in my back pocket.” He kissed you deeply to which you returned. “I’ll take care of you. In the best way I can.”
His thrusts became more vigorous and his throat became more vocal. “I don’t even fuck my wife like this.” He says. “That means somethin’.”
You gripped the soil beneath the two of you and braced yourself for another orgasm. “Jake…Jake this is stupid.” You let out an open mouthed moan and pant as you came on him. He thrusted a few more times before pulling you up by the back of your neck, never pulling out of you.
“You never answered me.” He said lowly. “Be my mistress. Please.” He placed a kiss to your neck
You sighed and gave in. “I’ll keep you sated…for now.” You placed a hand on his chest as a warning. “I promise you this won’t last forever Jake.”
He showed no excitement at your acceptance, rather stood and put on his breeches. Once the two of you got resituated, he pointed to the trunk.
“We’ll take wood from there.”
“The trunk you fucked me on.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said nodding backwards. The other na’vi warriors were returning.
You cursed and quickly dug in your satchel to wipe that clay off your face.
Jake was right about Neytiri going back to her old self once her bow was repaired. She rode by his side as his wife once again and worked out her injury the best she could. The two of them returned to their regular sex schedule, even if she picked up on his sexual habits he’d never done before. Happiness was simple. Recovery took almost nothing and it was time to gather the clans again.
“I need you to find the Tlalim, stop them, tell them about the incoming danger.” Jake placed his hand on his wife's shoulder.
“And what will you be doing?”
“I will still be around…I need to escort the newer squadron to the edge of the forest to spread word to the reef clans.”
Jake was so full of bullshit, and he’d hope Neytiri didn’t know that. He was sending her on a goosechase, that she knew, but she knew they were at war.
“Okay….i’ll leave tomorrow.”
He nodded in approval. When she walked away he ducked into your Tipi.
“Olo’eyk-”
Jake placed a kiss on your lips, silencing you. “I have a surprise for you.”
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jake takes advantage of his position after his wife's rejection
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Cheating, Age-gap, manipulation, cursing, vulgar language, mentions of insecurity, mentions of guilt
𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Jake had never been turned on more by Neytiri than when he saw her Mangkwan get down. The red, grey, and black paint, the band straining against her breasts, hell, his woman knew how to disguise herself. After saving Spider and returning to the mountains, he introduced an idea to his wife, a bedroom one.
“You know,” he caressed her arm with the front of his two fingers. “It would be nice if you put those back on.” He nodded to the discarded clan clothing on the ground. His bottom lip was stuffed between his teeth.
“No.” She said bluntly. “Those are demon clothes.” She turned down Jake’s offer.
Jake felt very frustrated at his wife’s words. He could go without her dressing up for him, but he couldn’t go without the touch of a woman, it had been months.
Jake continued his duties as Olo’eyktan normally, but he began to resent his wife. With this resentment came wandering eyes. When walking by he’d subtly break his neck to take a look, to see if they were pretty enough. That was the most his conscious had allowed him to do at first because he knew they’d never actually fuck him. They were loyal to Neytiri before they were loyal to him. They would never do anything to put the clan and its future Tsahik at risk, so Jake was off limits to anyone.
He had to go younger.
Jake first noticed you when landing on the edge of the mountain after a raid. You were helping a fellow warrior off his ikran and took his bow from him. He watched you walk down the line of landing na’vi and take their weapons.
“Hey.” He called over one of his warriors. “What’s she doin?”
“Housekeeping.” The na’vi says. “She repairs and upgrades our weapons if need be.”
Jake nodded, dismissing the na’vi male and went back to ogling you. He thought of you all day, even when sitting in front of his wife who was sitting in front of the fire, pondering life. He decided to pay you a visit when eclipse began.
“I need a new handle.”
You looked up at Jake who was holding a worn blade. You smiled at your Olo’eyktan. “How soon? By the end of the ‘morrow?”
“Take your time,” he assured. “I have my guns in the meantime.”
“Come here first.” You walked over to a waterspout and wet his large hand “Grab this.” You had him grip a clay cylinder. It was a tool you used to make sure every mold was personalized to the user's grip. He watched you intently as you pressed his hand tight to get the perfect grip, it ignited something in him.
“Give me a few days….i’ll have it ready for you, Olo’eyktan.”
Jake’s eyes stopped wandering after he set his sights on you. That he knew of, you were quiet, stayed behind from raids, but you played a key part in the success of them. Without your handy skills, he was sure his warriors would have faulty weapons and high mortality rates.
Jake came by everyday to see your progress. “I apologize Olo’eyktan, I haven’t gotten started. I’ve been working on a new bow for Tarsem and-.”
“It’s fine.” He muttered. “I don’t need it now.” You smiled lightly at him and kept your head down as you continued carving a piece of bark into a bow-like shape.
“Do you like this? Crafting….I mean.” He asked.
You looked up at him and narrowed your eyes. “Do you want a pleasing answer or my answer?”
“Speak freely.”
“If I had the choice I’d be an artist. Making decorations and fixtures. It would be a dream to be known across the planet.” Your voice then turned to a more somber tone. “But I have a duty to my clan and we are at war. I have no room for silly crafts, this is the closest I'll get to being a creative.”
Jake nodded. “I know what it’s like to have dreams.”
“You’re Olo’eyktan. What more could you want?”
“Looks are deceiving,” He crouched on the ground. “The world isn’t in my hands just because I'm the leader. I have my flaws, and wants that I gave up on long ago.”
You looked at his five fingered hands. Jake had zoned out staring at his alien hands. “What do you want, Olo’eyktan?” You asked.
No inkling of a sound came from Jake when he finally looked up at you. He sighed deeply and stood from his crouched spot on the ground. “I’ll check in tomorrow.”
That night Jake laid in bed thinking about what you’d asked him earlier. What was his dream? What did he want? That window for dreams and aspirations passed when he got his avatar, his legs backs, and betrayed his race for the woman he loved. He was too old for dreams now, he was a simple man with simple wants.His dream now? His dream was to be deep inside someone, listening to the pretty, melodic sounds of someone moaning. He wanted to be hot and sweaty, stomach tense and achy from thrusting too much. He wanted his arms to burn from holding himself over you for too long. He wanted his tongue to be slick with your essence, his back red and scarred up from your nails.
Jake looked over at Neytiri and took a deep breath. His hand trailed over her torso, up to her breast, but she groaned and moved his hand away, once again rejecting her husband's advances. Jake’s nose crinkled in frustration and he did his best to hold in a hiss. That was his final, mental attempt at reconciling what had been lost. Now he was stepping out.
You were prepared the next time he came by, knife carved and ready for battle. “Perfect timing. I finished it up before bed last night.” You eagerly handed him the knife. “I hope it’s comfortable for you Olo’eyktan.”
Jake looked at you with a blank expression. He thought you would take longer.
“Thanks….i’m sure it’s fine.”
You half-nodded, half-bowed to him, honored to have had the opportunity to craft something for the Olo’eyktan.
Jake inspected the knife and its intricate craftsmanship.
“Y/n.”
“Yes Olo’eyktan?”
He clenched his jaw when you called him that. Not helping his restraint.
He pulled the Mangkwan breechcloth and strap from his satchel and held it in front of him. “I will come to your tent tonight. You will have this on, get creative.” He said and left the tent.
Jake surprised himself with his bluntness towards you. He never just demanded someone do something for him. The entire day he dealt with anxiety, bouncing his leg when he sat and zoning out. Would he even go through with it?
That night he took one last look at his wife sleeping soundly in the hammock. He felt guilty, and the need to lay in bed next to her, but then he remembered her cold response to his advances and found himself feeling neglected once again. Fuck it.
Jake made his way to your Tipi and burst in through the entrance. He almost had a stroke seeing you standing in the Mangkwan attire, painted from head to toe in their colors.
He made his way to your tent and walked in. He almost had a stroke seeing you standing in the Mangkwan attire, painted from head to toe in their colors.
“Is this what you wanted Jake?”
His eyes trailed from your feet to your torso. “That’s not what you call me.”
You raised your eyebrows before relaxing again. “Is this what you wanted, Olo'eyktan.”
“Mhm.” He dropped the tipi cover from his hands and walked over. It didn’t take him much to get hard these days, seeing a young thing like you would set him off like fireworks. Jake pulled his hard cock from his breeches, holding his weight in his right hand, “Kneel and suck.” He looked down at you.
You did as told and took his large cock in your hands, licking a stripe up the underside and taking him into your mouth. You gagged initially, having never sucked dick this big before.
“Mawey.” The corners of his eyes wrinkled. He moved the hair from your face to see you more clearly. “You dont have to- ah fuck!”
He groaned as you successfully took him down your throat once. You bobbed your head on his cock, using your hands to stroke what your lips couldn’t reach. Jake closed his eyes and relished the warmth, the wetness of another's mouth on his cock. He felt a tinge of embarrassment feeling a knot build in his stomach, you’d barely touched him and he was already ready to blow. He refused to go down easy, if he wanted to keep up with someone like you, he needed to control his stamina for the night.
He pulled you off his cock and held your ponytail in his fist. A line of saliva connected your mouth to his cock and he groaned at the sight. He pulled you up by your hair, which hurt, but he then kissed you deeply, swirling his tongue around your mouth, establishing dominance.
Jake broke the kiss himself and picked you up from the thighs, holding you against him.
“Do I look pretty?” You cupped his face as he laid you on the ground.
“You look like a whore.”
You gasped at his vulgarity but that gasp turned into a moan when you felt his wet tongue run along the top of your breast. “Can’t suck my cock like that and ask me to treat you like a lady.” He placed kisses to the part of your tits that bulged from the band. He licked over the leather strap, as if licking it would dissolve and give him leeway to your nipples.
“This doesn’t hurt.” He traced the band seeing how tight you had it tied to your flesh.
“It does.”
He took the knife you carved for him and sawed at the leather band, once it burst open, your tits sprung free and he traced the red line the band had left on your flesh. His tongue poked out again and circled one of your nipples. You moaned and held the back of his head, hands tangling in his dreads. He mimicked his tongue around your other nipple, giving it a nibble before pulling on it with his teeth.
Jake then sat up from your chest and looked down at the Mangkwan breechcloth you had on. The slit on it was the most alluring part of the cloth. “Want me to take it off, Olo’eyktan?”
“No.” He pushed the flaps apart and looked at your glistening cunt, just out in the open. He licked his index and middle finger and ran his fingers over your cunt. You bit your lip. He kept laser focused attention on how his fingers teased you. He dragged them along your folds, in your folds, he even groaned hearing the squelch of you clenching around nothing.
“You want me?” Jake teased you in a breathy voice.
“Yeah, mhm I want you.” You responded.
“I can’t hear you.” He sank his two fingers in your cunt before pulling out, causing you to gasp. “I want you.”
Jake groaned at the way you called for him, begged for him. He pulled his fingers away and shifted so his cock was resting on your stomach. He looked at you and took his cock in his hand, slapping it against your wet cunt. “You want this, hm?”
“I want it so bad Olo’eyktan.” You whined, spreading your legs wider.
He bit his lip and slid into your cunt with ease. “Fuck!” He said behind clenched teeth. He needed a moment to think about how he would fuck you. His hands kneaded your thighs as he sat inside you, feeling how tight and wet you were.
“Fuck this.” He grunted and threw his body weight on you. He shifted until he bottomed out, cueing a loud squeal from your lips. Your toes curled up and tensed at the feeling of him so far in your tummy. Jake rested his forehead on yours and propped himself on his right forearm as he weaved his hips back and forth, fucking you nice and deep. He panted with his eyes shut, keeping the distance he could while being inside of you. Your breaths mingled and you kept your whimpers to a minimum.
You clenched around him and placed your hands on his back, clawing at his back. He hissed at you, “Don’t do that shit!”
“I’m sor-sorry!” You panted. You refrained from leaving marks on his back.
He gave you a sloppy kiss, sucking on the fat of your bottom lip. “Trying to make me come fast.” He panted. “You want me to come?”
“Yes I want you to come!” You pleaded in his ear.
“Not until you come.” He thrusted his hips faster and licked the side of your face. “Not gonna come til I fuck this pussy up.” He grunted. Your hands shot to his head, opting to tug and grip at his scalp rather than his back. You open-mouthed moaned in his ear and fluttered around his cock.
“Jake!” You whimpered as your stomach began to tense.
“I know, I know.” He cooed and kept his pace. “Let go and come for me. Come on me.”
You shuddered as you reached your peak, fluttering and clenching around his still-pistoning cock. Jake let out a long, guttural groan as he came to his peak himself. He bit his lip and thrusted into you with one last smack and came in you, filling you.
Part 2
A/n: Part 2 is a WIP. This final semester and job is kicking my ass bad. I promise y’all I got the drafts.
“And what’s a pretty thing like you doing back there, hm?” Quarich tilted his head and stepped forward to see you more clearly from behind the bone decor you and Varang hung. You backed up slightly. Miles held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not gonna hurt ya. Just wanna take a look at cha’.” He got closer, your fingers gripped your blade handle. His eyes averted from your hand to your face, he wasn’t threatened. “I haven’t met you yet.” He said. “I met Riku, Ti’at, but not you.”
“Y/n.” You kept it short.
“Y/n. You’re Varang's sister.”
“Something like that.”
Quaritch chuckled “Blunt. I like that.”
You hissed at him when he passed the mental line you had created for the two of you. He called out for you as you left the canopy fast, ignoring him as you made your way back to your own. You and Varang were really close since before Hometree fell, you were practically sisters, but one thing you knew that she never tolerated was anyone touching what was hers.
When Quaritch arrived, it didn’t take long for Varang to stake her claim and parade her new partner around the encampment. They weren’t exactly quiet when fucking in her canopy either. Quaritch came and you were put on the back burner, she was more interested in sky people weapons than what you and her had already established. You were trusted by her, her right-hand woman before he came and obliterated that role.
When he was gone for the day, Varang took the time to raid villages and Tlalim blimps, ones further out so she didn’t have to spend too much time away from her lover. This meant you were left in charge of the clan, but also you had to spend more time alone with your replacement.
“I get the feeling you don’t like me much.”
You snapped your head and hissed loudly seeing Quaritch in your personal canopy. You drew your blade and inched closer to him.
“You don’t like thundermakers?” He inquired.
You loved the guns, but you would never admit that to him.
“How about this?” He placed his hands on his hips. “I teach you to use one, you get rid of that….thing and replace it with something more fitting.” He pointed to your blade. You would never part with your blade, it was the last thing you had left from hometree. You said nothing. Quaritch pulled out a gun, one smaller than the ones he’d given Varang. You half-crawled over to him and grabbed it, inspecting it.
“That my darlin’ is a pistol. Small, easy, accessible.”
He was charming, that's for sure.
The two of you found yourselves in the empty space behind your canopy. You held the gun, imitating the way you had seen the sky people using it. Quaritch stood behind you, angling your arms and elbows so you could shoot the dead trees a few feet away from you.
“Stand strong when pulling the trigger, it’ll blow you back if you’re not careful.”
You ignored him and let off a shot, gasping and dropping it to the ground as the force made your body jerk backwards.
“Now that is what not to do, cupcake.”
He bent down to grab the gun and put it back in your hand. He pushed the barrel back with his palm, testing your resistance. “You are bigger and stronger. Don’t let it bully you.”
You nodded. Aiming, you let off a shot, then two, each time getting a better grip and handle on the weapon. You smiled and looked at the smoking barrel, then at Quaritch.
“Good girl. Now try one hand.”
You switched to your dominant hand and shot once, the gun flailed up and you looked at quaritch in surprise.
“Confidence baby, that’s all you need.”
You tried again, but failed.
“It’s okay.” He patted your back. “The more practice the better. Now let’s go chow down.”
Back in your canopy, you stood earring larvae, looking down at the sky man while he was buckling a new holster to your waist. It was something about him being on his knees, tightening the belt that made your stomach flutter. The sound of his voice made you focus on reality again, “Look, all you have to do is unclip it like this.” He demonstrated. “Easy.”
You pat the top of his head in acknowledgment.
“When you finish we can practice more.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“What?” He stood and looked down on you.
“I can practice alone. Thank you.”
“You don’t even know how to reload.”
“I’ll learn.”
“Not without me peach. You think you can handle it alone? You can’t.”
You stopped chewing and hissed.
“Your little hisses don’t mean a damn to me.” He stood and grabbed your cheeks. You usually would’ve sliced the hell out of someone for even touching your face, but this felt different. You were finally beginning to understand why Varang liked him so much. “Tomorrow I'll teach ya how to reload.”
Varang wasn’t there the next day, so that prompted you to take Quaritch up on his offer. In your canopy, you say criss-crossed between his legs as he demonstrated how to reload a pistol. “It’s very simple, just push the bullets in like that.” He placed one in the magazine then handed it off to you. You took the bullet and magazine with both hands and began loading it up, one after another. Towards the top, you began to struggle. “Don’t be afraid to use both hands, slide and push when it gets to this point,” he tapped the slanted edge of the magazine. Once you filled it up you slotted the mag into the gun. You turned around and placed the barrel right against his forehead.
Quaritch let out a deep sigh. “Should’ve seen that coming.” You pulled the trigger but it jammed.
“Safety is on, smartass.” He scoffed.
“I know.” You used your finger to flip the safety on and off. “Did I scare you?”
He ran his arm down your back, along your kuru. “I don’t scare easily. I died once without fear, I think I could do it again.” Your tail whipped in the air as he traced the kuru on your back. “You like that?” He repeated the action. “Don’t take much, does it peach?”
You didn’t make any sudden moves, just relished the feeling of his hand on your back because you didn’t know the next time you’d be touched like this. His hand trailed from the base of your skull down your kuru, along your back, and settled on your ass where he squeezed. You gasped and froze, wanting to hiss at him, but also wanting to tackle him down.
“I think you like this more.” His other hand rested on your other cheek. He kneaded your flesh and kept his warm hands firm on your skin. You nodded and he flashed his signature grin. “C’mere sugar.” He growled and laid flat on the ground. The two of you began kissing all while caressing one another tenderly. Your tail whipped wildly as you finally gave into his devices. That restraint you had before came rushing back when his hand went to the knot at the back of your breechcloth. You broke the kiss and stood, stumbling back into a fixture as you caught your breath. “Leave.” You shouted at him. “Go. Now!” You shouted and waved your hands at him, kicking him out.
Your loyalty lied with Varang and the Mangkwan, but catching feelings for her lover felt so wrong. You felt a pit in your stomach, not something you felt often. Guilt. The thought of angering your best friend invoked fear in your body, but the excitement of his hands on your body excited you more. You pinched the bridge of your nose and made the decision that if you had to give up a lifetime of pleasure for your best friend, you would.
The next day you went out of your way to avoid Quaritch, taking the walkways behind the canopies and avoiding the main encampment. You walked until you found another patch of land outside the camp where you could practice shooting.
You pulled the pistol from the holster and began letting off rounds off the dead trees and carcasses that were a few feet away. You then dropped one hand and let off a shot. This time you had gotten better at not letting the recoil push you back. You smiled and let off five more one-handed shots successfully. You held the gun with both hands and looked down at it.
“You feel like hot shit don't ya? That’s what masterin the iron does to ya.”
Closing your eyes, you let out a deep breath hearing his voice behind you. His hands followed soon after, running across your torso and pulling you back into a reverse hug. “I told you, you could do it.” He placed a kiss to your temple. “You’ve been avoiding me all day. It’s because of last night, isn't it?” He asked bluntly.
You didn’t respond. Suddenly wanting to keep busy you worked your hands to reload the magazine.
“You feel bad?” He laughed. “I don’t.” Quaritch realized you were going to keep ignoring him and started to get annoyed. One thing the Mangkwan women had in common was that they were all stubborn as hell. “When’s the last time you had some lovin?” His hand squeezed your breast. “Hm?”
That sent a jolt through your synapses and you quickly moved from his grip, but he kept a tight hold on your wrist. You finally spoke up,“You cannot do this. You cannot make love to Varang, then me. It is wrong.”
“Wrong? All y’all do is wrong.” He pulled you close to him again. “We’re not even a mated pair, ain’t that the rules? You don’t do tsaheylu, it don’t count. Tell me Y/n, how many times does Varang pull this out for folks?” He held his Kuru. What angered you the most is that he wasn’t wrong. Making the bond in the Mangkwan wasn’t always for mating for life or sex, it was a device, a tool. Varang had only used her kuru for torture and sex so far, never to get herself a mate.
You dropped the gun and pulled his head down, kissing him passionately. “There she is.” He said between kisses. Taking his hand in yours, you led him back to the encampment. Other clan members watched but said nothing, they couldn’t blame you. Inside your canopy you shoved him onto your cot. He grunted and chuckled as you straddled his lap, kissing him again. You guided his hands to feel up on your ass again.
“Off.” You tugged at his breechcloth.
“Yes Ma’am.” He used one hand to unloop the already weak tie and bared himself to you. You bit your bottom lip as you watched him grow hard. You shifted on his thighs as he grew bigger, and bigger. You almost backed out seeing his size alone. “You sky people hold many secrets.” You reached for his cock but hesitated. He was more endowed than any na’vi man you had ever seen.
Quaritch took his military knife from his discarded breech and slid it along the skin between your breasts. He tugged forward and cut the leather strap that strained against your breasts, setting them free. You gasped and he took one of your nipples into his mouth. He growled against your breast, sending waves of pleasure through your chest. You took the knife and cut the strap of your own breechcloth, exposing the rest of your flesh to him. Quaratch switched between breasts, sucking them amply, before putting you on your back.
He stroked his cock a few times, leaning down to place tender kisses along your neck. You let out a pleasurable sigh, wrapping your tail around his thigh. He aimed at your entrance and slowly pushed in. “Ah-! Quaritch!” You yelped. He clicked his tongue and shushed you, "You'll get used to it.” He whispered on the crest of your ear. “Just rel-ahx!” He choked the deeper he sank into you. The stretch felt so delicious and your foot cramped at how hard you were curling it.
“Damn!” The colonel bottomed out. He placed his forearms above your head to hold himself over you and began thrusting at a slow pace. His eyes were locked on your contorting face and fluttering eyes. He watched and got pleasure out of you taking every inch of him so well. “Quaritch!” You shouted when he zoned out and jerked his hips too fast. “Sorry.” He grumbled. You grabbed your kuru and quickly connected his kuru to it. “Oh god.” He buried his head in your neck and thrust his hips faster. His hip movement became more controlled, angling himself right, feeling what drove you crazy. You were shamelessly loud. Whimpering and moaning like no man had ever fucked you before. Riku brought you adequate pleasure, but it would never compare to the work the sky man was putting in. “Mmm~ Quaritch!” Your thighs began to shake as you felt your orgasm approach. Miles clenched his eyes shut, moans becoming more breathy as his abs began to burn from his oncoming orgasm and constant thrusts. He sucked the air from around your neck as he tried to ground himself. He would never come before his partner.
“God damnit!” He shouted louder than your wailing moan when the both of you came. He shuddered as his cock pulsed inside you. “Shit.” He cursed again. He made sure not to crush you when coming down from his high, pulling out, leaking, before rolling onto his back.
“Finally.” Varang entered the canopy, half-crawling and kneeling on the ground next to the two of you. You looked at her with a sorrowful expression. “Varang-”
She grabbed your kuru and stroked it, “I told you she was louder than me…Riku is not the best mating partner.”
Quartich nodded in agreement, “Do you two share lovers all the time?” He smiled wickedly.
"Who am I to keep her from exploring what she likes?” She turned to you. “We must keep him.” Varang grabbed her kuru and connected it to yours. A sign of reassurement, she wasn’t angry. You relaxed the more she caressed you. “Yeah…let’s keep him.” You said.
“Great.” She crawled over you and planted herself in Quaritch’s lap. “Rest up, it’s my turn.”
𝐀/𝐧: short little drabble for you guys because my other WIP's are longer than I thought
𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
“Grab everything!” You hissed at the Mangkwan. You had successfully sunk another Tlalim blimp that was full of goods from their recent Awa’atlu trip. You watched your clan members sling satchels across their torso’s and dump baskets into the satchels tied to their ikrans.
“TORUK MAKTO!” One of the na’vi shouted. The Tlalim that were remaining cried out in relief while your clan hastened their pace. You looked to the sky and saw none other than Toruk steering around the mountain. Jake Sully on top.
“Retreat!” You yelled and hopped on your nightwraith. You hadn’t come for a battle with Toruk Makto, you came for goods, this was a drawback you hadn’t thought of. Gunshots pulled you from your trance and you watched some of your clan members fall to the ground lifeless. You immediately reached for your bow and arrow, twisting your body to aim and shoot it at one of Toruk Makto’s men. An arrow to the neck and na’vi fell. Success. Jake saw the losses he was taking and turned his sights to you. Toruk was bigger, stronger, faster, it was easy for him to catch up with you. When he was right on your tail you dove, avoiding the creature's talons.
You laughed mockingly, but was quickly humbled with the sound of gunshots. You avoided the bullets the best you can but not without getting grazed. Jake was barreling at you, shooting wildly. You cried out in pain as a bullet grazed your thigh, then another hit the edge of your ear and sliced the flesh of your hand. “You fool!” You shouted and turned to fire your arrow again, but saw Toruk pulling back. You faced forwards again to see the high density of trees ahead of you. Your nightwraith semi-crashed into the leaves, entangling yourselves in the leaves. Taking a breather, you looked around to see very few of the mangkawn had survived the encounter. At least you were alive.
The ride to the Ash Village was silent. You didn’t care to see what your people had scavenged, you were fatigued from the battle. You went right to your tent to tend to your wounds. Your ear was pounding. Walking over to your firepit, you grabbed a metal rod you’d found a few months ago during a raid and threw it into the put. You pulled vials off shelves and a bowl, hoping your herbs would do its best to conceal your injuries. Passing by a water bowl, you stopped, looking down at your reflection. A chunk of your ear was missing; a bullet must’ve caught on the piercing and took it off. Your good ear curled down as you took in the image. You were deformed, once again. How many more injuries until you were unrecognizable. You knocked over the bowl, knocking the only water you had over before going back to the pit.
The sounds of na’vi commotion sounded outside, but you ignored it.
“Tsahik!” They called, but you didn’t feel like answering. “Tsahik!” Someone peeped in your tent. “It’s Toruk Makto.”
You grumbled and stepped outside, seeing the bright orange creature land a few feet away from the village. It was too soon, you were angry at him. Jake Sully jumped from Toruk with his hands up in surrender, on his shoulder, a bag full of stuff. He ignored the other na’vi and made a beeline right towards you.
“Baby I’m sorry. I’m sorry” He reached for you, but you hissed and swerved from his touch. “C’mere.” He reached again. “Let me see. Let me see.” He pulled you close to him and held your jaw as he inspected the wounds. You shoved him away again. He let out a deep, regretful sigh, “I’m so sorry baby.” He leaned in to give you a kiss on the cheek, one you didn’t swerve from. Although you were angry, you allowed him to take your hand and walk you to your canopy.
The metal rod you had placed in the firepit earlier was now a glowy orange. Jake reached in his bag and began taking our medical supplies, and you reached in the fire to grab the rod. He looked at you and jumped when he realized you were about to cauterize yourself. “What the- Fuck!.” he exclaimed, grabbing the rod itself and tossing it to the other side of the canopy. “Y/n, No.” He said sternly. “I’m gonna patch you up.” He flicked his hand that had been scathed from the rod. “I got trigger happy. Okay?” He poured some liquid on a cotton ball and began dabbing your red-wounded ear. “I’m sorry.”
“It is fine.” You finally spoke up. “It’s my fault. My punishment for conspiring with the enemy.”
Jake dropped his shoulders and roughly grabbed the side of your neck. “It is not your fault. I am not your enemy….I screwed up, alright.” He tilted his head to make sure you understood. When the two of you teamed up to raid any and all guns and weapons from any vulnerable clan, you knew feelings and other things would get mixed up. This was your way of elevating the clan, becoming more powerful. This was Jake’s way of fighting against the RDA. For many reasons, the two of you had to keep up appearances as enemies. Your clan knew it was a farce, and that’s all that mattered.
“You know I'd never do anything to hurt you. Put your life in danger.” He finished patching up your ear and began working on the other wounds on your body. “Today my actions didn’t reflect that.” He said quietly, wrapping your hand. “I’m-” You placed your fingers on his lips to shush him. He was forgiven. You gave him a nod and watched him tie and tape the bandages shut. Jake sat his supplies to the side and pulled you into his lap. He lulled forward and placed his head in your chest, arms wrapping around your torso in embrace.
“You owe me.” You said, tugging at the tip of his ear. He let out a scoff and nodded, accepting your terms.
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Tonowari comes back after an attack on the reef
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Infidelity, PNV, Submission, Cursing, Manipulation, CNC?
a/n: i'm late, i'm sleepy, i'll swing back and edit this later <3
𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
“Oh? Look who came crawling back.”
Tonowari, the chief of the Metkayina, stood in the doorway of your canopy. His knuckles were white around his spear. “How did you get past my men?” You walked over to him. “Killed them? Snuck by, I doubt you’d be able to do so considering your size.” You looked him up and down.
His expression did evoke a little weariness in you. There was a furrow in his brows and a frown on his lips. He was angry. You’d never seen the effects of your tsaheylu last this long; at least not long enough for your victim to show up at your doorstep. But again, you never let your victim live long enough to do so.
It had only been a few weeks since the last raid. You and the Mangkwan followed the Tlalim all the way to the reef, where you burned their airships and stole their goods, food mainly. The Metkayina never initiated fights, so you held the majority of them hostage whilst your men packed up.
“We will take everything.” You walked along the line of Metkayina na’vi who were currently being held hostage.
You heard someone hiss behind you. You paused, and turned. The tsahik of the Metkayina, making a scene. You walked over then kneeled in front of her. “Hissing at me?” You tilted your head and got in Ronal’s face. “I should bleed you dry!” You hissed in her face. Tonowari, next to her, shifted uncomfortably, fearing for his wife’s safety.
You looked down at her stomach, and placed your hand on the swell of her stomach. You saw her eyes widen, ears curling, backing down.. “Don’t worry. I have my limits.” You said. “But…take this as a warning. “
Before any of them could process what you had said, you took your Kuru and connected it to Tonowari’s. You’d get to her somehow. Tonowari screamed in pain, dropping his spear and holding his head as he was dealt excruciating brainwaves. You laughed manically and looked at the tsahik. “All of your actions will have consequences.” You shouted at her.
“Stop this! Please!” She begged you.
You looked back at Tonowari, who was brought to a seizing state while kneeling. “Where is next season’s harvest?” You bent down to speak with him. “T-The mangrove.” He gritted his teeth to subside the pain. You looked at one of you men and nodded. “Burn it.”
The Metkayina began to wail in distress, having their food stolen, homes burned, and harvest ruined. You forced both Tonowari and Ronal to look at you, “May you never forget me. May you never forget this pain. Wrong me again and I'll do more than just burn your village.”
You detached your kuru abruptly and watched the Olo’ekytan fall flat into the sand. His wife scooted over to him, sobbing, trying to shake him awake and have him respond to her pleas. That was almost a month ago, yet, here he was, standing at your doorstep.
“You come to kill me? Is that it?” You taunted. “I hurt your pride? Embarrassed you in front of your people, your wife.”
“You don’t mention my wife!” He snarled at you, half-lunging at you, but he held himself back. You giggled, unphased by his false display of dominance. “Oh? yeah, or what?”
He shook his head and snarled before asking sternly, “What did you do to me?”
“Hm?”
“What have you done to me you witch!” He cursed at you. “I haven’t been able to sleep, swim, eat, because of you. You won’t leave my head, what have you done!”
You shrugged. “Made you submit.” You stated clearly. The bond you created was only to pacify the warrior for the time being. “Be lucky I didn’t take this as a trophy,” You reached to stroke his braid. “I can’t reverse it if that's what you're asking. I can…but I won’t.” You pat his bicep and moved closer to your firepit.
“You must! I have duties! I can’t continue wasting my time thinking of you.”
“I said you will never forget me. The way you Metkayina treated me once I stepped on your reef-”
“You burned the homes of hard-working na’vi.”
“Your wife hissed at me.”
“After you burned our homes!”
“They’re rebuilt now right?”
He went silent. You were right. Those marui pods took nothing to rebuild. They didn’t really lose anything.
“I come to you, humbly, as Olo’eyktan. Stop this torture. We can work something out. I can provide for your clan. Fruits, blankets, homes, hands, whatever you need.”
You threw your head back and let out a long, drawn-out groan. “But that's no fun.”
Tonowari’s face hardened again, showing crazy restraint.
“Leave.” You quirked your head to the entrance. “Or else I'll pay your village another visit.”
Tonowari moved over to the firepit and grabbed your wrists, you began to move for your knife, but he planted his lips on yours. You froze slightly, but kissed back, swirling your tongue around his.
“You dishonor me!” He pulled away from you, hands gripping your shoulders.
“You dishonor yourself.” You smiled. He climbed on top of you, pushing you onto your back and placing his lips on your skin. Your temple, lips, cheeks, neck, wherever he could reach.
“This must be your personal hell.” You caught his lips on your again, and he shook his head. He said nothing, but you can tell from his grunting that he was desperate.
Tonowari began kissing down your body, lips trailing from your lips to your navel. One of your men had come to check on you, and jumped seeing Tonowari’s large body on top of yours. The na’vi reached for his knife but you hissed at him. “Leave! Make yourself useful.” You scolded. The na’vi quickly left and closed the door to your canopy.
Tonowari tugged at your knotted breechcloth, causing the fabric to snag on your skin. You gasped in pain, but then the fabric snapped at his unwavering strength. He grabbed the undersides of your thighs and pulled your hips closer to his face. He looked at you and licked a long stripe up your slit. You gasped and looked at him with widened eyes.
Tonowari kept his eyes closed as he indulged himself in your pussy. His tongue curled around your clit, licking, and stimulating the bud while keeping his hold tight on your thighs. Your hips curved forward as you began to lose control of your pleasure. “Are you enjoying this?” You panted and swatted your hands in front of him to make him lock eyes with you. “You seem to be enj-OH!” Tonowari had closed his lips around your clit and began sucking.
You whimpered and let your fingers spread down the parts in his braids. He pulled off your clit with a pop and swirled his tongue around your entrance. “Oh sh-right there~” you moaned so dryly and relaxed your hips. His mouth never left your pussy, especially with all the squirming you were doing.
His tongue left your opening and he went back to attacking your clit. You panted and arched again. He looked at your squirming figure and flicked his tongue faster, passing the muscle over your bud over and over again until you were cumming on his lips.
The warrior pulled back and moved so his hips were perpendicular with yours. He panted, lips wet. “Let me make you feel good Tsahik.” He pleaded. He pulled his breechcloth from his waist and grew painfully hard in front of you.
“Lay back.” You demanded.
Tonowari’s hands never left your waist as the two of you shifted. You connected your kurus and placed your hands on his chest. “You can never go back after this.” You positioned yourself on top of him. Tonowari’s eyes were glazed over, and his hands tightened on your hips. That told you he wasn’t worried about one word that came out of your mouth.
The two of you shared a moan as you slowly sank on his thick length. You’d only heard about the nature of the Metkayina, now you were feeling it. Tonowari grabbed the undersides of your ass tightly and let out a guttural moan. He took control and began guiding your movements up and down his cock.
You locked lips with him and held on to his forearms as you quickened the pace. You panted in his mouth and giggled hearing the squelching coming from below. “You made a mistake coming here.” You grabbed his cheeks and forced him to look at you. You swirled your hips and he let out a low groan.
You felt everything. His pleasure pulsating throughout his body. His guilt, his nonchalance, his wife, you. “I don’t-“ he panted. “I will make my peace with my mistakes later.” He dismissed your words. He kept his grip on you tight as he slowed his thrusts. You watched him lull his head back with his eyes closed, sucking his teeth as he felt himself cumming. You hissed and bounced faster, harder, now emitting open-mouthed moans as you came to your peak alongside his.
Tonowari pressed his hands down on your hips, keeping you locked on his cock as he came. His head was relaxed and he held his eyes shut as he came down from his high. You stood and strapped back on your breechcloth.
“Leave.” You nodded your head towards the entrance.
