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forgeofthenine · 5 months

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Omg in the last few posts you were talking about heat as in temperature but my brain registered it as something COMPLETELY different and it got me thinking…

What if tieflings had some kind of a heat cycle and they get extra sensitive and desperate because of it?? I can imagine Zevlor and Rolan being super embarrassed or nervous to bring it up, maybe Dammon’s more chill about it but still extra needy

So, this has absolutely been a passing thought in my mind and as soon as this request came in I knew I just had to push it to the front of my request queue, purely for my own mental health lol

Gotta admit, I'm a fan of omegaverse dynamics and I actually looked a little into irl animal biology and mating behaviour to get a better feel for what I think tieflings would be the most like. So this has both general headcanons and some NSFW headcanons for the individual bachelors

You probably didn't expect quite this much (over a thousand words of tief content) when requesting but this had me in a chokehold, I hope everyone enjoys <3

TW: NSFW under the cut, very heavy breeding kink, overstimulation, alpha/omega adjacent dynamics

Tiefling NSFW heat and rut headcanons

General

So, I feel like once all tiefs reach sexual maturity they'll start to either have heats or ruts, depending on their biology

Anyone with female biology will have a heat, and I feel like they'd have heats similar to cats but with a slightly longer time between heats

So generally they'd have a heat every two to three months or so unless they're pregnant or have other health issues

For the ones with male biology they'd definitely have a rut

They'd follow similar patterns to the women, but it's not unusual for some tieflings to have longer stretches between their ruts if they don't have a partner

A single tiefling that isn't particularly sexually active might only go into rut once or twice a year

I do think a male tiefling could prematurely go into rut if exposed to a females heat, and couples that have been together for a while will sync up

They have pretty typical heat and rut behaviours with nesting, possessiveness, and a pretty undeniable breeding kink

Nesting, possessiveness, and general mood shifts tend to start setting in during pre-heats and pre-ruts

Pre-heats and pre-ruts can last two to five days, and a full heat and rut can last anywhere from two days to a full week depending on the individual

In saying that, having a partner can definitely shorten both heats and ruts, so single tieflings working through things by themselves will have longer heats or ruts

Heats and ruts can also become more painful the longer they go on without the relief of a sexual partner

Tieflings can tell when others are in heat and rut mostly through pheromones, but a female tieflings tail will also involuntarily lift when she's in pre-heat/heat and around a male

I wonder if I should go so far as to headcanon that they have knots, I did already give them all ridged dicks

Dammon

If you and Dammon aren't dating then he'll be much more shy about his ruts

He basically disappears from his forge and the public for a few days and then comes back as if nothing happened

Once you start dating him is when you find out why he pulls the disappearing act

Dammon is actually very open about it now you're both together and have already been intimate

Blushes slightly while trying to explain some of the more physical, primal aspects

Would flush even more if you tell him you find the whole thing incredibly attractive

The next time he has his rut, you're the only person allowed to see him, and he really is a sight

Naked and tangled in his sheets, all flushed and tense, undeniably hard as he palms himself while looking over at you

Even the way he strips you of your clothing is different, he just about rips it off you as he kisses and nips down your neck and chest

While Dammon is usually one to take his time with making you feel good when he's in rut the only thing on his mind is getting to cum

Though even in his hazy mind frame he still makes sure you're comfortable the whole time

Even a near sex crazed and highly hormonal Dammon is still a very caring partner

You know he's going to bend you in half as he fucks you, he just loves how good you look underneath him like that

Breeding kink go brrrr

This man always fucks like he's trying to breed you but it's off the charts when he's in rut

I hope you're ready to be fucked within an inch of your life because his refractory period ceases to exist

Absolutely watches as he pulls out of you and some of him cum leaks out because he's stuffed you so full

Dammon praises you so well too, you can not shut up this man and his dirty talk

"That's it gorgeous, you take my cock so well."

"You gonna make me a daddy, darling? 'm gonna knock you up, full you up with my cum."

Once his rut dies down enough, he'll scoop you up for a bath

There is no way you could stand after the way this man just wrecked you-

Dammon takes very good care of you, and then you do it all again the next day

Zevlor

Whether you're dating Zevlor or not, he's your personal wealth of knowledge on everything tiefling

So what do you do when a book you read mentions 'the times of year and conditions unique to tieflings' and doesn't explain it?

You go and find your favourite paladin

Zevlor is so embarrassed, dating or not, explaining to you how tiefling heats and ruts work

Can't even keep his eyes on you

When you two are dating and you realise you didn't see him at all yesterday, it's time to go hunting for the man

You have an idea of what might be going on but nothing prepares you for what you find

Much like Dammon, you find him tangled in his bed sheets desperately trying to get himself off

He lets out the sexiest groan when he sees you standing there

He's the gentlest of the three while working through his rut

Even then, Zevlor is noticeably rougher with you than usual

Has you in a missionary position, his whole body pressed to yours as he pants in your ear and thrusts into you

Zevlor can't keep his hands off you when he's in rut, they're all over your hips and chest and giving light tugs to your hair

He gives into the primal need to mark you too, it's the only time he'll give you hickeys

Breeding kink: the sequel

Absolutely tells you he's going to breed you, and fucks you like he means it

Doesn't even think as he uses his hands and tail to spread your legs so he can fuck you deeper

Zevlor loves to look at the way you tremble every time he fills you with cum, using his fingers to help you get off at the same time

Even while he's trying to find his own relief, he makes sure to make you cum so many times you end up overstimulated and about to cry from the pleasure

Definitely has you cockwarm him as the two of rest, the thought of you keeping his seed so deep in you until it takes just gets him going again

You'll know he's ready for another round when Zevlor starts grinding himself into you again

When the worst of his rut is over he gives you the best massages

Apologises so profusely too the first few times you help him through his rut, even if you tell him how much you like it

Rolan

There is no way Rolan is ever telling you anything about heats and ruts

Absolutely forbidd his siblings from mentioning it too, he's just way too embarrassed for you to know

Even when you guys are dating he just locks himself away in his tower for a week while he works through it and recovers

This man will not tell you anything

And then he forgets to lock the door

As soon as you open it you're met with the sight of a whiney, teary eyed Rolan trying to get off by grinding against a pillow in desperation

Unlike with the other two, there's no clear 'top' when you're with Rolan during his rut

He loves having you ride him until he sees stars just as much as he wants to bend you over his desk until everyone else in Ramaziths tower can hear you scream

Rolan loves hearing you when he's in rut

Yell his name, tell him that you belong to him, tell him how good he fucks you, say he looks so pretty when you ride him-

He loves all of it so much

He's also the one that bites you the hardest, expect him to draw at least a little bit of blood by accident

Breeding kink: the trilogy

Rolan isn't letting you leave the room unless he's knocked you up

Absolutely puts a fertility spell on you by brushing his hand over your lower belly and murmuring the words

He also refuses to pull out unless it's to change positions, and if any cum leaks out of you he'll push it back in with his fingers

Overstimulation is the name of the game with Rolan, he wants you both overstimulated and crying and completely fucked out

This man believes in equality and we love him for it

The youngest of the tiefling bachelors and definitely the most pent up, it'll take all day before he calms down enough for the two of you to rest

When things do calm down, after he makes sure you're both clean and fed, Rolan wraps you up with him in his bed and will read to you

It's his own personal flavour of aftercare, cuddling and reading your favourite book as he makes sure you're comfortable and happy

And it all starts over when you wake up the next morning with him hard as a rock against your ass

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cyclecloset · 2 years

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diejager · 5 months

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Hello there, love your stuff! How would the monster au boys react to their human reader being on their period? Because I can totally see Soap smelling blood on the reader and thinking that they are injured, but then getting confused when they tell him it’s a period. ☺️

Sweet blood Cw: blood, period, tell me if I missed any.

I completely agree, Soap, even with the intellect and understanding he needed to be a demolition expert, dismantling and building explosives and weapons from nothing, he’s oblivious of some things. Despite his skillful in sights and decisions, he falters in some aspects in a domestic scene and anything related to it. He struggled at first, trying to understand why there was a smell of sweet blood waffling off you as if it clung to your clothes, the smell ingrained in every little groove of your body —you smelled much sweeter as well.

It made something on his mind swoon, instincts reeling for unknown reasons until he asked you himself after someone found him sniffing the air like a mutt and following you like a lovesick pup. He seemed so confused with the notion of you bleeding once a month and only understood when you told him it was your period - or menstruation in more technical terms - and that it was all natural. He brought up to you a memory of his older sister smelling of blood, old yet new, unripe yet ripe, it followed a lunar cycle and that made it easier to understand.

Unlike Soap, the other’s are more knowledgeable of your plight, coming prepared to help you with whatever you would need. Despite their inexperience with menstrual cramps and cycles, they knew the gist of it, what it entailed whenever someone had one, few of them actually had first-hand experience with it. Ghost had Beth and his mom’s experience, their grumbles and annoyed sounds. Gaz from the few girls he dated in high school, soothing their pains when they curled forward, holding their abdomen. Alejandro and Rudy knew of it from the girls they grew up around in Las Almas as children, running around and skipping school when they didn’t feel well. Price - despote his busy life - had a few flings and Laswell’s grumbling to sit through when their cramps started. Horangi and König both saw and heard from the women in KorTac, their swift mood swings and short tempers once a month made them prepared.

If you needed a heated pad warmed in the microwave, Rudy and Gaz were already there with it in hand, wrapped in a fluffy towel to prevent yourself from burning your skin. If you needed water and painkillers for your unbearable cramps, Ghost and Kónig would gladly get you a cup of water and a few pills from their own bottles, strong painkillers for headaches and muscle pains that were probably weaker than the cramps you felt. If you needed a massage, something to soothe the ache in your back and limbs from your hormones getting out of control, a chaotic mess around your body, Price and Alejandro wouldn’t mind setting aside their work to give you a massage, to press and burn the ache through experienced and warm hands. If you needed a distraction from the whole nausea and sickness, Horangi and Soap would jump at the opportunity, a cuddling feline holding you down with his whole body or an enthusiastic and praise-hungry wolf making tricks to please you.

Alone, one could do a lot to help you through your period, reminding you in advance to take your med, bringing you whatever you would need and taking care of you, but together, they worked like a well oiled machine, every member fitting in like a cog, moving in synchrony. They went over and above to satisfying you, dropping their duty to rush to your side at the slightest sound of displeasure. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for you, from going to a drug store miles away for a specific med to carrying you around in their arms or back.

From that first occasion, Soap goes around with his nose raised and mind ready to help you at the drop of the hat if he gets a whiff of sweetened blood from you. He even has a bag in his room with pads, painkillers, soft towels, fluffy blanket, heated pads and a list of food you crave during your period.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months

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Blood-Stained Wool Spun At Midnight (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Werewolf!Ghost x F!Tailor!Reader (Set in Van Helsing Era/Aesthetic)

WORDCOUNT: 7.7k

WARNINGS: Blood, intense gore, angst, mutilation, violence, death, being hunted, reference to unwanted attention from a man, 1890s period standards for men/women, religious references, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

“Miriam?” Your voice carries over the open street, one of the two small steps leading into your nonexistent front yard firm under your feet. Across the way and one house to the left, your older neighbor, Miriam, readies her horse for you—kept behind the paddock door of her attached single-stall stable. Men and women shuffle past along the cobblestone, clopping hooves and tipping soft caps. Giggles and gloved fingers.

The city is lively today, and you’ll be glad to be out of it for the better part of the morning.

You brush down the front of your shirtwaist, patting at the pleating along the front before folding your shawl across your shoulders; hiking it farther into your high-collared garment.

“Miriam!” You call again, shuffling down that last step and trying to shove yourself farther into the crowd. Keeping your black skirt close to you, you sigh long and pray the pouch at your side will stay away from the hands of pickpockets—a tailor gets off well enough, but every penny was worth it. One setback could ruin you.

Which was the reason you were now making your way into the country on your neighbor's horse.

Miriam glances up from where she fiddles with the bridle strap, her head mixed in with the masses. You smile, raising a hand far above the sea as men sneer down at you, hearing the tinkling bells of her laughter.

You make it to her and Whistlejacket the Thoroughbred as you huff, rubbing your gloved hands together before the clicking sound of your heeled shoes can catch up to your ears.

“By the Lord, it’s chilly, Love,” Miriam utters, patting the horse as you softly rub the animal's neck. Black ears twitch to you, chestnut eyes soft and pliable. You smile before replying with a chuckle.

“And the chill won’t stop Mrs. Ida from having my hide for that wool-lined cycling jacket, unfortunately.”

“Ah,” Miriam scoffs, “Mrs. Ida. I’d tell that one to mind her manners to the fine lady who makes her husband's waistcoats.”

“She always asks for them a size small,” you hum, rummaging through your satchel to make sure you have the money you need for the wool that’ll go inside the order. “One with more of a brain would say she was trying to say something.”

Your eyes glimmer as you send your neighbor a glance. Miriam slides you a cheesy look.

“‘More of a brain’, the girl says,” she mutters as you laugh brightly. “A wonder you’ve not found a husband yet.”

You ignore the comment, sliding down Whistlejacket’s side to slip your foot into the stirrup, huffing at the beast’s size before shimmying up with all the grace of a young hooligan. Panting on the saddle, both legs over one side on account of your skirt, you take a breath and happen to glance at the dark house that borders Miriams.

“Miriam?” The words escape you in a moment of curiosity. “Pray tell…is Mr. Riley back from his trip to London yet?”

Mr. Riley—Simon as you know him to be called by only a whispered passing. It was apparent with your little…interest in him. It wasn’t a carnal interest, no, God forbid, it was a hesitant need to understand him.

You’d never sown nor mended so many clothes than to his own collection.

Frock coats, waistcoats, shirts, ties, and trousers all—ripped to shreds before being placed on your counter like it didn’t matter a smidge. And those deep brown eyes of his…endless; seemingly incapable of human emotion above the tight layer of silk that the man wears up to his nose. There was something strange going on with Mr. Riley, and you were determined to figure it out, but he was also quite alluring to you in a simpler sense.

You liked how he spoke to you.

“London?” Miriam asks, putting a hand to her wrinkling chin. “My, was that where he was off to—how do you hear about these things, Girl?”

You clear your throat, putting back on your smile. “Oh, never mind that. I was just curious, see.”

Whistlejacket’s feet shuffle from under you, the tall beast’s strength seen through his broad neck and well-bred attitude. Miriam’s husband had been a carriage driver, and when he died, the widow had taken Whistlejacket into her care as the only living family she had.

You rub at his neck again, and the horse nods his head up and down, knickering.

“You’ll take care of the old fellow, then?” The question is layered, anyone going through the forest to the farmer’s fields knows that the shadows grow long.

Knows what can hunt you.

You glance at the woman, nodding firmly. “And bring you back your share for taking the lovely creature out.”

With that you’re out, taking the reins in your hands before easing Whistlejacket into a walk and entering the flow of traffic; waving a hand behind you in goodbye. Miriam calls on the smoggy wind.

“D-don’t stray from the path, Love!”

A path wouldn’t save you from the Ghost.

—

It is the year 1897, and beasts live here.

They roam in the dark corners and the forgotten alleys of every city and street—silent, unseen. Waiting to strike with white fangs or sharp claws; a snarl or a whisper. Vampires, demons, specters lost to time…Werewolves.

Nowhere was safe, and so, the world had to adapt.

As Whistlejacket’s hooves meet the slowly depleting cobblestone of the outer city, the clink of the metal bit dances in your ears; your face roves back and forth through the fields, those far in between houses. In your bag, you have more than just money.

Holy water, a crucifix, and, of course, a knife made of pure silver. When in doubt, silver was always the safest bet.

But the forest…the forest was unpredictable.

You breathe slowly as it comes into view hours later, those creaking branches and the breeze that speaks to you—in your head, you hear the plea. Or the threat.

Turn back.

The both of you stop only a foot from the treeline. Whistlejacket knickers, feet shuffling. Your hand finds his hide, rubbing soothing circles as your lips thin.

“Easy,” you whisper, but nothing could be farther from easy. Your fingers brush through the horse's hair as he moves his head, hooves taking a step back. “Easy.”

The blackness of this forest is unnatural—the others in the city and town go around it; a four-day trip. You didn’t have four days. Like a moth to a dark altar flame, the oblivion takes you in and the forest expands in your view the longer you stare into it, down that path of overgrown grass and gravel. Rocks and twigs.

With one hand you grab at your shawl and pull it closer to your neck, holding the reins lightly as your fingers twitch around them with the other.

“Easy,” you say for a third time, quickly looking away from the path and clearing your throat.

Clicking your tongue, your boots tap Whistlejacket’s side and after a puff from his large nostrils, the animal ambles forward, far slower than he had before but still moving nonetheless. Your hesitance bleeds into him, and you know the horse's senses are far better than your own.

But you were stubborn—you’d come too far to go back now, and if you wanted to be home by supper you had to buy the wool you needed and leave as quickly as possible. Going through this forest would take up most of that time.

The trees enshroud you, and in their brimstone grip, they reach with gnarled fingers like a leering phantom. You lean to the side to avoid one branch, feeling it pull at your shaul slightly; trying to grab at you, it seemed. This place would devour you whole, but you were less scared of the general aura and more of the fabled monster that patrols this place.

The Ghost.

Whistlejacket is unsure of this, despite the journeys you’d both been on. It always worried you how such a large carriage animal could still get so nervous after years of desensitization—the horse didn’t flinch at the yells from the city; or the howl of mutts at midnight. But this brimstone forest made him shiver under you like a child in the cold.

As you speak to him lowly, your hand reaches into your satchel and grasps that tiny silver blade, attaching it to your cinched belt as your skirt sways in a dead breeze. A chilled puff of air falls from your lips, though there is no coldness in these standing sentinels—it is a dead-like atmosphere. Every pound of your heart can be heard.

“You know, old fellow,” Whistlejacket’s ear twitches back to you, but his eyes do not leave the path. You spare a tense chuckle. “I’ve half the sense to tell Mrs. Ida to shove that wool lining right up her—”

Something sharp echoes far off into the trees and you pull on the reins with a tight breath.

Whistlejacket squeals, trying to bolt, but you keep a strong hand on him—eyes flashing from one dark void to the next in between the trees as his hooves dance. Your head bobs with every jerk of his legs, yet you barely notice it.

A twig? You ask, heart hammering. No, no that sounded like an entire tree getting snapped in half.

Eyes glancing over your shoulder, you look back down the road and find the tiny speck of light that signifies the exit of this place, the last glimmer of home. With a heavy look around, you close your eyes and shake your head.

Mrs. Ida was…something else…but she was one of your best clients for all her abhorrent behaviors—money was tight as of currently, and the woman’s husband was incredibly rich due to his practice as a physician. This wool was needed not only for the jacket but for your shop upkeep and the price of fabrics, needles, and threads. This wool was an investment you couldn’t miss.

“Whistlejacket,” you click your tongue but the animal snorts and shakes his head, backing up. “Whistlejacket!” Your voice carries despite not even being above a hard whisper.

“I promise you, when we get to the farm I’ll let you eat all of the sugar cubes you want—my treat.” Your hand finds the space between his ears and below his skull, the soft black mane twisting in your fingers. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

Your eyes are half-narrowed.

That wasn’t a twig.

Monster Hunting was a booming profession—and many took to it out of glory or need for coin. Those hunters had been in and out of this forest for short generations, trying futilely to catch what was rumored to lurk here before they got ripped to shreds like their fathers had.

The Ghost.

Some say he stands over nine feet tall; and has fangs that are bigger than a man’s palm—claws like butcher knives. Blackened and dead is his brain, cruel and maniacal.

The Werewolf’s heart is chained to hell, and his soul to Satan. He is cursed ever to walk like a beast and feast on human flesh while in his wolf-skin and out of it.

A ghost.

The Ghost.

You close your eyes tightly, trying not to imagine the stench of blood or the injuries you’d seen those hunters bore—being dragged back into the city screaming and wailing in pain. Arms and legs ripped clean off, never to be found. Most never came back at all.

“Please, Whistlejacket,” you plead, bumping your forehead into his neck. Whispering into his skin, you take a deep breath. “We need to go on. Quickly. We can’t stop here.”

Stopping was making a bigger target on your back—letting your scent linger in the stale air.

With one last whinny, his fast flinching feet, the horse pushes forward as you click your tongue again; faster and more uneasy. But you didn’t slow him, no, if Whistlejacket was going to speed up, you were completely fine with that.

Moving again, you loose a sigh from your lips.

There were many dark stories living here, some too heavy to tell aloud, even—one specifically was the tale that you’d overheard in your shop while helping Mr. Riley fix a large hole in his waistcoat.

Riding along the path, you guide your steed down a small indent, blinking at the images your mind conjures up.

Mr. Riley had been far quieter that day than in the recent past, and you thought perhaps he was beginning to warm to you after a few long months of silence and clipped business talk. That day, though, you had your doubts.

Mr. Moore and Mr. Hill were coming in to inquire about the state of their overalls, working-class both and eager to have their second pair of articles fixed. Mr. Riley had been there first, and thus, you’d been talking to him for the better part of ten minutes.

“Mr. Riley,” you’d explained, holding his black silk waistcoat in your hands while opening and closing your lips. “I…I really must begin by asking how exactly you manage to do this to your clothes. In good faith, I half-believe you have a habit of getting into bar fights with a knife-wielding fiend in your free time.”

Brown eyes had stared at you above that cloth of his, soft cap on his head protecting blond tendrils of hair. Scars peel at his skin, old and pale.

You’d never been afraid of him, despite his large frame and his intimidating muscle—the gruff aggressiveness of his tone. It was strange, but you had a feeling he would never do anything nefarious…perhaps his morals shone through far better than his conversational abilities.

“Can you fix it or not?” He grunts in question, hands in his pockets. Eyelids blink at you slowly, long lashes caressing flesh.

You roll your eyes. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I can.”

In that intermission of silence, you’d heard the words from the men behind Mr. Riley—missing the spark of amusement that had coated those brown orbs as they watched you.

“Did you ‘ere, then, Mr. Hill?” A sharp, hurried whisper. Your eyes blink at the two as the man ahead of you slightly shifts his shoulders, tilting his head to the side to stare behind him. “There’s been killin' in the East district—they’re callin’ the ‘unters in, see.”

“Hunters?” Mr. Moore huffs. “They’ll not make a smidge of a difference now. I’ve heard about it—they say the Ghost slunk in from the Forest and ripped the man to pieces.”

“Aye! They found pieces of flesh hangin’ off the shop signs. Like he’d been put through a machine, I hear. Half a jaw was left in the street, an eye leading into the trees, and…and…”

“Gentleman,” you call, oblivious to how Mr. Riley is as tense as a rope, eyes small and tight on the two men. He barely breathes.

The two look to you as if being caught by their mothers. You frown. “Time and place.”

“Sorry, Ma’am.”

“M’sorry, Miss, lost myself.” You smile through a sigh and turn back to Mr. Riley.

“Well, now then, I…” He quickly walks to the door, boots heavy and knee-length frock coat swishing as he pushes open the barrier and slips through. You gape, confused for a moment. By the time you think about opening your mouth again, you can already see him entering his own house across the street and pulling the door closed firmly.

The curtains close. Black night leaking out around the illumination of the oiled street lamps. It was the news in the morning that called to the true horror that you’d overheard in your shop.

Mr. Lambert was never your favorite patron, in fact, you’d call him a creep at best—insistent on marriage to you and a hazard, considering that your home was connected to your shop. He knew exactly where you lived and when to use your time in his less-than-pure favor.

Mr. Riley had been a natural deterrent in recent months, but what really struck you was that the brown-eyed man had managed to show up exactly when you needed him regarding Mr. Lambert. The small silver bell above your door rang his arrival whenever the other was trying to lean over your counter, smiling sweetly at you as if you were a prize to him and his leering eyes.

Mr. Lambert would instantly straighten, tense, and dart away with a metaphorical tail between his legs while shooting nasty glances.

But you’d never imagined him to be dead.

You’d never imagined his body to be hung from the trees that border the forest like a trophy—the Ghost had dragged him out of his home, the door busted off its hinges, and the inside all but demolished by fighting bodies. Neighbors said they’d heard howls on the wind; yowling and wet snarls like a rabid dog.

Mr. Lambert was mutilated. Unrecognizable mass of flesh and hair, bone seen through shredded skin and tongue lulling from a ripped-off jaw. One eye and a branch through his toro to hold him up.

Now halfway through the forest, in the densest bit of trees, you can’t help but imagine becoming just like him.

You hadn’t spoken besides to reassure Whistlejacket, yet the fact was that you couldn't even reassure yourself—like a child, you cling to the animal below you and try to ignore the murmurs. Your shawl had been pulled up and over your head, creating a sound barrier for you that truly did nothing to help.

Looking slightly to the side at a large and moss-layered boulder beside the path, you shiver not from the cold.

“Maybe I should have just waited the four days…” Your whisper leaked out, and it seemed a sin to break the silence that had been layered here.

A shadow filters past the side of your eyes, a silent motion atop the boulder that you think perhaps is a crow. You pull at your shawl to show your face a bit more, turning your head upward.

Atop the stone is not a bird—it is not an animal of natural birth or of sound mind. It is a beast of ancient rites and white-fanged dreams; left here among the living in a sick game of predator and prey.

You don’t register that it’s really there, the Ghost, until its blackened form stands to its full height, great shaggy fur under the remains of clothes scraps, and muzzle curled to show off fangs and pink gums. There are his ears, atop that head; they point to the sky before flinching back to staple themselves to its elongated skull. Long hands that scrape the stone below it near the claws that dig into the rock until they make long scratches.

Like a demon made flesh, this Werewolf was the epitome of nightmares. So strangely human and monster at the same time.

Eyes like a burial mound.

You stare in numb horror, gloved hands steadily tightening over the leather reigns until your knuckles pop. Whistlejacket does not yet know the beast is here, glaring into your soul and branding it; taking a large step closer to the edge of the boulder as the moss flakes under his egregious large paw-pads.

A low rumble is all it takes, those pupils small and beady, from within the breast of the Ghost’s expansive chest. Whistlejacket’s nose sniffs the air, his head turning and already tense.

The horse screams like a dying banshee, spine curling and legs kicking out. He bucks as the Werewolf snarls through a loud howl, all four limbs connected to the stone and roaring. Your back slams into the ground as you’re tossed off Whistlejacket, your mouth releasing a scream to join the rest of the noises that echo off the foliage.

Crashing into the path, your neighbor's horse disappears with one last high-pitched squeal into the darkness as you feel your bones rattle at the connection to your spine. Tumbling down a slight hill, you quickly get your skirts in order before scrambling to your feet with pain brimming in your scraped skin. Looking back to the boulder, your pounding heart rampages.

But the Ghost isn’t even there.

“Oh, Lord Almighty,” you whisper, backing up multiple steps. “Oh, Lord.”

The blade is missing from your belt—you don’t know where you’ve dropped it in the fall and that might just be the death of you. Mr. Lambert’s story infects you; the other hunters.

You frantically look at that mighty stone, up and down, while skittering backward.

Where did it go?

Panting, you only stop when you hit the firm frame behind you, a large tree trunk of fur, and a hard chest that you sink into. You freeze—eyes wide and unblinking. A thin squeak exits your mouth, and a reverberating call purrs over your vertebra, making you shiver with fear.

Minutes draw before you gather the courage to delicately turn your head upward.

Those eyes meet yours again, small and coated over with rage; pale fangs so close to your forehead they’re like ivory with dripping saliva. One drop hits your flesh, but you fail to register it.

Those eyes.

Up close you’re completely stolen by them, sucked in and whisked away as a bride, this mixture of dark wood and earth. Brown so rich you’d never seen something like it…or…or had you?

Incredibly, in between your panic, something sparks you as being familiar in a way you can’t quite place in this state.

The Ghost is gargantuanly large, so much so that he bends his spine to lean over your entire body and growl down at you, the sound starting in his gut and expanding up to his throat. The fur around his neck is so thick it’s like the mane of an exotic cat, ironically, as tufts of hair are on the tips of his ears.

You stare and try to memorize the look in his eyes as clawed hands come up at your sides, horrifyingly human with long fingers; five-pointed except for the fact that the skin is blacked like hide. Sweating, you shake before your lips start talking for you, as they usually do.

“I do hope I’m not intruding, Kind Ghost.”

The beast halts his slow entrapment, right ear twitching forward at your voice. He doesn’t blink, and his mouth does not close.

“I…I only wished for safe passage.” Internally you wonder if you’d lost your mind—if it had broken in this moment of hysterics. Your voice is far more steady than it should be. “I must get to the other side of the forest, you see. Urgently. I have business that must be settled. Though,” you add quickly, tone cracking for a moment. “Though, I knew not how to contact you to ask.”

The Werewolf’s heart can be felt on your back, a deep thum of pulsing power and raw death. It watches, its mouth twitching a smidge more closed and lungs rising. Its feral heat leaks through your clothes into your flesh.

A furred hand connects with your hip and you squawk as you’re shoved to the ground very suddenly, thrown to the side onto the grass with only your palms to catch you. You’re flipped over, those same claws slamming beside your head before you can push back up and try to run. But there could be no running. Like a moth to flame the Ghost would hunt you down until there was nothing left of you but bloodied carnage.

You throw up your hands in front of your face, the great form splayed over you and a sniffing nose digging into your stomach. There is a low whine of a hungry maw as the shaggy head moves up and around. Like a human, the Werewolf’s hand grabs at your wrist, pinning it down to the ground as the other digs into the earth, dragging it up like a farmer’s plough.

“H-hey!” You shout, pushing with your free fingers at the muzzle—in sound mind, you’d never even think to do such a thing. “Get off of me!”

You should have been terrified, and maybe you were, but you’d gone past the point of knowing it. This beast was leering over you like Mr. Lambert, but far more dangerous and…and…

“Are you smelling me?!” Your angry voice makes his dark eyes snap to yours, and in an instant, you’re staring up his muzzle, body splayed out below him.

You shutter.

“Eh…Just don't…rip anything, would you?” You were talking to a Werewolf as if he was capable of higher understanding in this form—as if still human. Voice small, you thin your lips and feel sweat run your eyebrow ridge, heart pitter-pattering.

Why were you still alive?

The snout resumes, running along your shoulder and finally stopping at your neck with a pass of the Ghost’s tongue over his lips. You close your eyes tight.

This was it, you think. Of course, you’d be the one to lose the only blade that could let you actually damage this monster, the silver glinting in your mind as you curse yourself violently. You feel the puff of his vile breath on your neck, his claws peeling at your shirt collar slowly back.

Your breath hitches, fingers winding through the fur below your grip, but the confusion breeds with the horror. The sensation of his soft fur wasn’t unpleasant—in fact, it was perhaps the finest material you’d ever handled. While it wasn’t the time for this, your occupation was impossible to ignore…this texture was far better than any silk.

But he’s stopped moving entirely. Lids fluttering, you open your eyes slowly, afraid but addled at the inaction.

Brown side-eyes you closely, fangs dripping next to the meat of your neck and parted to show a lulling tongue. The beast purrs as you stare, looming with enough mass to block the sun and moving that muzzle closer to your pulse. In an act of pure desperation and womanly instinct at the sight, you snap out your leg and, not hesitating a moment longer as the animal’s tongue meets your flesh, you send your shoe straight in between the monster's legs.

A sharp yowl makes your ears ring, but you slip out from under the Ghost as it banks back, snarling and yapping before it rights itself with a shake and rabid hunger. The look from before is gone—but you’re already through the trees by the time the enraged hunting cry makes your neck hairs rise.

Guttural, savage, and devoid of humanity.

On the path you find your blade, and you snatch it as you gather your skirt in the opposite hand and dash away. To where, you have to tell yourself, you do not know. But it’s human nature to run, to sprint until your throat tastes like blood and your stomach rolls with bile—all of that can be tolerated if for the simple promise of survival.

So run you did.

Faster and harder than you ever had in your life, you sprinted into the brimstone trees and the dead thorns, not looking over your shoulder at the noises of snarls and breaking tree trunks; claws through the earth, and the primal howl of a hunt. Your throat is raw and scraping, clothes thoroughly ruined as you crash through a thorn bush while cutting up your arms and legs in tiny streaks of crimson.

Droplets make a path behind you, a path, and a scent to tell you by. But with how the Ghost had been smelling you too deeply, you doubted it would be long before he tracked you down to finish the job.

You lose a shoe in the mad dash, lungs heaving and whimpering from the sudden absence of sounds entirely—as if the beast had disappeared into thin air. Still, you don’t brave a glace behind as you take turns and bends in the earth at random, running deeper and deeper into the foliage.

Bloodied and running out of strength as you hop a small stream, yelping when you slip and bash your wrist into the ground, you had never wished for Whistlejacket more. All you could hope was that the horse was making his way out the other side of this hellscape.

You never should have come through here.

Tears stain your eyes, blurring the edges as you manage to run into a small clearing, head whipping back and forth from one area to another. Every turn was the same—every tree similar!

But the house was different.

No more than a hut, really, it was stone and had a thatched roof, nestled in a field of black flowers and wisps of dead grass. The door was opened, but the ground was torn up by claw marks—spanning up the sides and near a broken widow.

You rush to it without a blink, and just as you make it to the threshold, you grab the thick oak door with your torn gloves. Turning, you find him across the open glade.

Air is shoved from your lungs as you wheeze, the black shadow in the tree line. Brown eyes burn past flesh and bone—beady. Twitching lips and high-pointed ankles with rising fur. It was like a statue. Not even moving; barely breathing as it…watches.

What had happened to the snarling—the howling hunt?

Had…had he been behind you the entire time?

You whip the door closed and frantically slam the bolt in place, the blade brought to your side and shaking in your tight hold as you back up quickly.

“Oh, Miriam, damn you, you’re always right.” You gasp, back hitting the edge of a table. “Curse me for never listening.”

Your neighbor had expressed worries the day before your departure, but you’d been stubborn as always—wool, you said you needed. Just enough for a coat. It was nothing; nothing that should have led to this.

You feel like passing out, bile rising into your throat before you swallow it back down and breathe in quick heaves.

But the door didn’t cave in, and no great monster barreled through to eat you up and pin you into a tree branch. The house settled, the minutes dragged on…

…and nothing happened.

Your heart slowly goes back to a hesitant normal, like a mouse after being chased by a hawk; a lamb by a wolf. Standing up straighter with blood saturating your clothes, the uneven strides of your shoe-less foot mean little to you as your form slinks to the broken window. You don’t feel the pain in your cuts—the sweat or dirt—before you bend down and hiss at the stretching flesh.

Knees knocking on the floor, you peek above the sill slowly, eyes wide open and tiny pupils quivering.

“Why didn’t it come into the glade?” You ask yourself, seeing the large shadow in the far-off coverage of the dropping leaves. A steadily dying sun. You weren’t making it back home tonight. “Why is it staying away—it knows I’m in here.”

Surely it wouldn’t let you live?

Your brows tighten, swearing there are eyes looking back at you through the kaleidoscope reflections of the glass. You duck down, vibrating as your vision runs across the strange hut.

One room, it only held a table, a tiny desk, a trunk, and a bed. A fireplace with no logs. Dust lived in the corners, and candles that were unlit were melted in plates and cups all around your view—score of them as if the dark was something the owner feared vehemently.

This would be your sanctuary for the night.

“Do Werewolves not come upon hallow ground?” Your voice bounces off the stone. “Was this a priest's hut?”

If there was a church nearby in this damned place, that would truly be the best scenario. Churches held hunters more often than not.

Standing, you walk the space, feet aching as the adrenaline wears off and it all sets in. You place your blade into your belt, but your fingers never leave the pommel. First, you go to the desk, picking through letters and thin papers.

Blinking, you pass them over in favor of the journal, the one next to the hastily thrown down quill—the spilled ink.

Your hand touches the leather and flips it open, ears peeled for any noise from outside. The drawings come into focus quite quickly.

Diagrams and intense study fill your brain, images of the Ghost sketched so lifelike that you flinch back and physically recoil until you gather your bearings.

“I don’t suppose this would be of any help,” you utter with a frown. “Will it tell me how to make silver bullets? Give me a revolver?”

Shaking your head, you close the journal before the faded name on the cover register—you walk away slowly before you halt.

"Simon Riley."

Your heart tightens and those brown orbs come back to you. It’s like your mind expands in a millisecond.

Simon Riley and his frequent trips out of the city. Simon Riley and his shredded clothes exactly like the ones that the beast wears. Simon Riley and his silent, black, soul. His secrets.

“No,” you try to convince yourself, chuckling as your panic spikes. Every interaction whizzes past with surety. “No, that’s not possible. I couldn't have been that inept when he was right in front of me.”

Anger pierces you, and all sense leaves. You know it to be true, know it to be the reality even if you'd just put the pieces together yourself. This was too perfect that God himself must have come down and laid it out for you to find.

In a moment of raw rage, you stomp to the door—hand snapping to the bolt and reaming it back. The outside chill makes you growl, but you exit the hut nonetheless. It was like a spit in your face.

“Simon Riley!” You scream into the air, hand in fists. “Get your arse out here and explain to me why I’ve been fixing your fucking clothes while you’ve been galivanting around the bloody forest!”

Call you insane, but seeing your work constantly ruined made you more mad than being chased like an animal, especially if this animal had no intention of killing you. He'd had the option, but he hadn't.

That only serves to make you even more angry.

Your finger points into the tree line. “I spend my God-given time to make them perfect for you, and this is how you repay me?” A rustling from the bush to your left. You snarl and turn to find the upright form as it blinks at you, muzzle closed and ears forward. It steps out into the grass with one paw before you brandish your blade at it.

The Werewolf freezes, a low warning growl rumbling in his chest.

“I’m going to rip that damn fur from your body and teach you what it’s like to have your practice insulted, you twat.” Those eyes don’t stray, just like they never had in your shop.

Yet there was a more primal tint to them—more wild, unrestrained. Aggressive.

The monster stalks forward with slow and heavy steps, walking up to you until it can once more stare you down. You take down a shaky breath and press your knife into his abdomen as fur encompasses your field of view.

Your confidence wavers.

“D-don’t you know it’s rude to chase down a lady in her travel shoes?”

A snarl grinds itself out in cut intervals as if he were trying to speak to you, snapping fangs and tilting head. You have somewhat of an idea of what it means.

“I’m not apologizing for kicking you in the balls, Mr. Riley. You deserved it.” You lower the knife from his abdomen.

A nose pushes itself into your neck again before you shove him off with a curse. He doesn’t even flinch before he tries once more.

“Would you quit it?!” You yell, scoffing. “What in the devil is wrong with you?”

It was like he was trying to rub his head all over you—as if nothing but a dog scenting a bone.

Isn’t he? Your lips thinned. It wasn’t foreign to think he wasn’t in the right state like this. Of course, he wasn’t. Mr. Riley would never act like this, even with how often you saw each other.

Lord, you didn’t even know if he liked you that much, but judging by whatever this is, it happened to be quite a bit. You huff and push him back with a scene of finality, slithering backwards into the hut before slamming the door.

There’s a low grumble from outside, the barrier shaking as a large paw presses on it with immense force.

“No!” You order, pulse running. “No—you figure yourself out first! I’m not letting you in like that.”

The sudden enraged roar is so loud the broken window shakes. It makes your veins quiver under your skin. But there's a heavy slam of leaving feet moments later, the sound of screeching trees as branches are bent back.

You pause and stand straighter after a long minute. Your lungs inhale.

“It listens better than the man,” you breathe, feeling weak. Bravery was tiring.

Yet, there was still the problem of the dead.

Simon Riley was the Ghost—a Werewolf. He’d killed people, many, many people in these trees.

You grab at your neck softly, the scent of earth and blood stuck under your fingertips, infecting your very soul.

“...So why didn’t he kill me?”

—

You helped yourself to the clothes in Mr. Riley’s trunk, taking what you could find and slipping into it for bed. It was nothing more than a large undershirt and pants, but you wouldn’t be the one complaining. Luck was back on your side, as you also found a small package of bandages and matches.

Lighting the candles one by one, afterward, you did what you could for your wounds. You weren’t keen on traveling to find water to clean them out, so, for now, a wrapping would have to do.

The beast patrolled the glade.

You’d hear him occasionally bend by the door, shadowing along the crack before there was a tapping of claws on stone and a huff of hot breath. He’d always leave you unaccosted, a smacking of gums and licking of chops heard through the cracked window before the dog darts away.

Where fear had been previously, curiosity starkly remained at the forefront.

“Simon Riley,” you mutter, sitting on the edge of his bed after that same event that had happened not an hour earlier. And the same an hour before that. Clockwork.

A wolf stalking his hunting grounds, making sure all is where it’s supposed to be.

He smells you in here.

“It’s too damn late for this,” you huff, rubbing at your face. Ideally, you’d like a bath and a hot meal, but there was no supper here. No food at all, really.

You plop down into the feather pillow, face nuzzling into the deep scent that you remember smelling from Mr. Riley as he came into your tailor’s shop. This was demented—unholy action.

If this were a different woman in this bed, she might be praying to her God for some salvation, an angel to come down and whisk her away. But the thought is like a stake in your heart.

If there were a different woman in this bed…would she even be breathing as you were?

You shiver and burrow deeper into the covers, pulling them up to your chin. For whatever reason, Simon Riley, the Ghost, had stayed his fangs from your supple flesh; now you weren’t even sure that when he was leaning over you he had any intention to hurt you at all. He had seemed like he was…waiting for something.

Simon Riley, your neighbor.

Your neighbor the Werewolf.

You groan and hold yourself in the candle-light, unsure. You’d heard the tales—the murders. Mr. Lambert. Those countless hunters mutilated. Like a child, you pull sparse memories that bring it all to light.

Mr. Riley was quite the gentleman when you happened to catch him.

There was never a time when you had to carry in your own fabric shipments—he was always outside to grab them before you could get one hand on the carriage compartment; it all seemed like lifting a feather. You’d speak to him about his day and his trips to the bigger cities that he always frequented.

He’d told you it was because of his business, and you’d refrained from asking what exactly it was that allowed him to purchase such exquisite clothes—or even how they always ended up ruined.

As your eyes flutter in this bed full of long black hair, you sigh and listen to the howls from far off in the distance; shivering.

“Where do you need ‘em, then?” The accent was aggressive, yes, but the tone was casual. You smile over at Mr. Riley and see the large trunk in his hands as the carriage leaves outside.

“I don’t know,” you tease, “But I think you look quite dashing being such a ready and willing neighbor, Sir.”

“That it?” He raises an eyebrow, but no expression slashes his visible face. To even get that was something to celebrate.

You raise a hand and wave him behind your counter, chuckling.

“I jest, Mr. Riley. Right back here the same as always.” He wordlessly ambles forward, feet heavy upon your wooden floors.

You smell the scent of fresh earth as he passes, and your fingers twitch at your sides. Clearing your throat, you ask easily as the man strangely flinches as he brushes your arm, eyes flicking just a smidge wider.

“Any more travels this month, then? I am a bit curious to hear about where you’ll be off to this time.”

“London,” is a swift answer. Brown eyes glance at you as the trunk is set down with a puff of breath in the space below the shelves. “Ever been?”

You shrug.

“No, unfortunately.” Simon stands to his full height, hands finding the insides of his pockets. You should be hesitant of his stature—his great shoulders—but you find it suits him. He tilts his head at you, his cap off today to let his wisps of hair collect at his temple. “You?”

Mr. Riley grunts, feet shifting.

“Quite a few.” He blinks slowly. “Not missin’ much. Bloody filthy.”

You laugh and tilt your head down, staring at the floor for a moment as your cheeks heat up. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Simon puffs a sound of amusement, looking you up and down. He stares at your waist before he hums.

“That a new one?” You look down at your corset above your blouse, putting a hand above the embroidery and nodding earnestly, touched that he’d seen it. Mr. Riley was far more in tune with his surroundings than others.

“Yes, had a horrible time with the designs—I’m not quite sure I like it yet.”

“It’s nice.” The man seems just as surprised about his quick outburst as you do, wide eyes meeting each other to connect with bare emotion.

It’s a long pause that leaves you stuttering, your heart skipping a beat as your flesh burns with brimming affection. Simon grunts tensely and darts his eyes away to stare hard at the counter behind you.

“Well, I…” you tilt your head, beaming through a soft chuckle. “Thank you, Mr. Riley. That’s high praise coming from you.”

“It’s nothing.” He takes his leave, firmly moving past you and shifting his body to make sure he doesn’t accidentally run into you. “Wear whatever you want, won’t make a difference… You’ll still be lovely.”

Before you can gape into the expanse of his back at the blunt compliment, he’s already out of the door with a whisper. You watch him cross the street from the window and see him climb his steps, sucking down a shaky breath.

An embarrassing giggle meets air.

The man far across the street pauses in front of his door, gloved hand outstretched. He stays there for a hint of a moment, and you swear he turns his head to space you a tiny glance over his shoulder.

Suddenly feeling as if you’d gotten caught, though you don’t know why, you squeak and hurry away into the back room.

You wake up to the sound of the door opening.

Drowsy and fatigued, your ears twitch to the sound of low groans and clipped growls—thick curses that would make any mother go shy that slip in and out of your reality.

You should be afraid.

Footsteps stumble in, the thick closing and bolting of the door eching. Candles flicker through your eyelids, and you make a low noise in your throat as your face scrunches.

All sound ceases.

So quiet that death himself would vacate the area, your brain catches the end of a set of surprised footsteps coming to the bed and a sudden low exclamation of, “Bloody fucking hell.”

It all fades in and out, glimmering and glinting.

A swift cleaning of the objects in his possession, organization, and fixing—moving papers. Feet stop at every other minute, and eyes burn into your face from above the covers.

His fingers pull back at fabric, seeing the clothes you wear, the ones that he needs as of currently.

A deep chuckle encircles you; your sleep deepens. Those same fingers, like a plague of slumber, travel up your bandaged arms and twitch along your shoulder—moving up until they come to the pulse at your neck. They add pressure and a breathless grunt is expelled as you tilt your head farther up.

That touch is moved to your chin, moving it back down to hide your flesh from that brown gaze before a heavy sigh brushes over you. The covers are all at once pulled farther up along your form.

The shadow disappears, and with it, it takes the extra blanket from the end of the bed, harshly grunting as the fabric is shuffled around and wrapped. A tiny mutter.

“You have a fuckin’ horrible habit of complicating things.”

You sleep on, and, if you were conscious enough to realize it, you would have felt the gaze on you for the remainder of the night from the table—watching, barely blinking above the heavy press of eyes.

Silent, if only for the soft breaths taken and no sooner exhaled on long, even, airways.

As if not but a dog that watches the moon under starlight; the gentle sight of snow falling outside of the den.

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lovebeinaprincessworld · 1 year

Text

First heat (Tsu’tey x reader)

Masterlist

Description: You unexpectedly entered your first heat with Tsu’tey in close proximity. He helped you through it, but when it was over you made everything way harder than it had to be.

Warnings: pure filth, heat cycles, breeding kink, fingering, p in v, lots of cum, reader being slightly insecure

7631 words

Tsu’tey was insistent on trying to teach you how to hunt. You didn’t get why, it was obviously not your area of expertise - your brother Jake was way more gifted at that - and you would much rather be back in the village patching up someone’s scratches. You even missed Mo’at scolding you with a hiss. But instead you were walking around the forest with bow and arrow, missing every single target Tsu’tey wanted you to hit. It was really getting embarrassing.

“I will never learn this, I don’t get why you insist on it”, you sighed, your bow sinking after another failed attempt. Tsu’tey clucked his tongue in dismay, stepping behind you and lifted your arms up again, the close contact making you nervous. Another reason why him teaching you doesn’t make sense, you had fallen for this man head over heels.

“Try again, it is important to be able to defend yourself in the forest”, his face was stoic, just like always. That’s why you didn’t have any hope for his feelings to be the same as yours, he never had shown any sign that he like you too - not any that you picked up at least. You could understand that of course - his first love and promised mate was killed and the one that was promised to him after that was snatched away by your brother. Just like his position as Olo’eyktan, not that Tsu’tey was mad about that anymore, at least it seemed like he wasn’t. Plus there were other eligible women in the clan who were falling for him just like you, why should a former dreamwalker have any chance.

He didn’t step back, his chest pressed to your back. It felt like your skin was burning where his was touching you, the Na’vi clothing not providing much coverage. You tried to concentrate on your shot, but your hands started trembling slightly, which - eventhough you weren’t good at this - they had never done before. You could basically feel the tall warrior scalding you with his eyes, your face burning in embarrassment.

“What are you doing?”, he barked, stepping around you and pulling the bow out of your hands. He was obviously angry with you, it looked like you got even worse. You lowered your eyes in shame, but simultaneously the way his muscular pecs were only a few centimeters away from your face made you crave his touch.

Eywa, you were in love with him, sure, but never before were you this incompetent at controlling your body’s reactions to him. What the hell was happening? “You can’t even answer me now?”, his voice was rough and you distantly remembered he did in fact ask you something, but your brain was slightly fuzzy and when his large hand grabbed your forearms to get your attention, you let out a pathetic whimper.

You immediately froze, and you felt his eyes run over your body in wonder. But that didn’t matter right now, his hands on your arms were sending a pleasurable sensation right to your core and just from that little contact your loincloth was soaking wet with your slick. How were you this turned on just by a little touch? He touched you before and you could easily keep your dignity until you were alone - thinking about his fingers sinking into you instead of yours.

But now you were so desperate and when you heard him inhale deeply, you were sure he could smell your arousal. You were so embarrassed by all of this, your thighs already rubbing together to get some friction, so your tried to pry yourself out of his hold. Maybe if you could make a run for it you could find some privacy and deal with this? But he wouldn’t let go.

“Tsu’tey”, this was meant to come out as a scolding for not letting you go, but instead it sounded like you were whining his name, the blush on your cheeks reaching to the tips of your ears. „What-”, the man in front of you started but interrupted himself. „You are in heat“, he stated and your face fell.

No way. No way was this happening now! Your first heat, right here, right now? You thought you wouldn’t get one at all to be honest, the scientist always said because you had humans DNA too, it would be unlikely that you would experience heats or ruts. You were just a former botanist, who were you to question that. But fuck them, they were obviously wrong.

„What? No, no that can’t be, I’ll just go home and-”, you were panicking, you had never thought about how you would deal with this, but he interrupted you. „No. You will not go near any unmated males“, he was basically growling and the sound made your knees buckle, some primal instinct telling you to submit to this dominant male. Luckily he caught you, but now you were caged in his arms and pressed to his body, another whimper leaving you.

Tsu’tey had to clench his jaw, all his selfcontrol working on not pushing you onto all fours and breeding you until you couldn’t take any more of his cum. But he knew this was your first heat, and being a former dreamwalker, you weren’t prepared for this. It was common for unmated Na’vi to help eachother out during their cycles, and when you talked about going back to your hut, he knew the other males were going to pounce on you immediately. Such a beautiful woman in heat? They would be all over you.

The thought of someone else helping you through this nearly drove him insane, so he decided he would be the one to fuck you, your pheromones making him extra protective. He was planning on making you his mate anyway, he had his courting gift nearly finished. Eywa, he was the only one even allowed to look at you right now. „I will help you through your heat. Get on all fours“, he told you and almost pushed you down yourself, when you looked up at him with this big innocent eyes.

„What?“, you were shocked. Was he offering to have sex with you right now? „It is common for unmated Na’vi to help eachother through their cycle, and you clearly need someone to breed you or this is going to be painful“, he was so cold, almost making you feel like this was straight up business for him, but he was right and the subtle pain that started to throb in your belly was making you desperate.

Before you could say anything else, he picked you up by the waist and turned you around, pushing you onto all fours with your back arched. Was this how Na‘vi had sex? There wasn’t much known about it, but you kind of felt like this was really…distant or something. Not intimate. Not what your humanself was used to. But you were panting and when her ripped off your loincloth, you could feel some of your slick drip down your thigh.

You could feel some rustling behind you, and then you felt two of his fingers slide into you. You were a mess instantly, pushing back against his hand and soft mewls leaving your mouth. You couldn’t believe the man you were in love with was about to fuck you, and the way you were so deperate would surely make you blush later on but right now all you cared about was being filled.

His thumb started to circle your clit, and the coil in your stomach was tightening. Your fingers clawed at the soft, mossy forest ground and your eyes were screwed shut, just chasing that high while his fingers were pressing into that spongey spot inside you with every stroke.

Your walls startled fluttering around his finger, you were so close to cumming. „You going to cum for me? Cum all over my fingers?“, the strict warrior behind you seemed totally composed still, but his voice and the realization that it was really him fingering you, pushed you over the edge. „Tsu’tey!“, you whimpered his name while sucking in his fingers, your thighs shaking and your slick making a mess.

„Eywa, would you look at this perfect pussy“, the warrior was starting to lose his composure, his cock already embarrassingly hard for not being the one going through his cycle. But the thought of burying himself in that hot and wet pussy made him almost cum on the spot. You were so perfect, taking everything he gave you so well, being so ready to take his seed.

You were calming down a little, the fog lifting slightly and you could feel his hard cock slide between your folds, being mounted by his large body making even more slick gush out of you. But when you felt his head slightly catch on your entrance, you suddenly felt the need to be closer to him. Maybe he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, but you had them, and you felt this position wasn’t giving you the intimacy you craved right now.

„Wait! Wait“, you tried to wriggle out of his grip, and after a little struggle he let you go with an unhappy grunt. You turned onto your back, propping yourself on your elbows, and the picture of him sitting back on his knees, his throbbing cock standing proudly between his muscular thighs almost made you cum again. „I want to look at you“, you were slightly embarrassed again, he probably thought this was dumb. On all fours was probably just the way they did it.

Look at him? He wasn’t sure about you on your back, Na’vi normally mated on all fours, it was the way of things. But he had to admit, you laying there with your legs spread, your perfect pussy on show, he was definitely curious about doing it that way. Also he could never refuse you, and the one he wanted to mate with wanting to look at him while he was fucking her, wanting to be closer to him, made his heart beat faster and his hard exterior soften a little. He slowly nodded, and the smile on your face was worth everything.

You layed down fully, relaxing a little more and spreading your thighs wider to invite him in. He seemed a little hesitant, but you felt the desperation sink in again (his fingers only delaying the full force of your heat that much), so you lifted your arms to let him know you needed him. „Need you Tsu’tey“, your voice was gentle and a little whiny and at that he immediately wedged himself in between your legs, his hard cock coating itself in your slick and mixing it with his precum.

You breath was starting to quicken, and you laced your fingers behind his neck, pulling him so close that your nipples were rubbing against his chest, the stimulation making you moan. He mounted you more securely, the biceps next to your head bulging and his battlescarred body caging you in. It was starting to hurt again, his rutting against your cunt not being enough. But then the leaking head of his dick moved to your entrance, gently pushing in.

Right away you tried to squirm closer, pull him into you fully and finally have some release from the uncomfortable feeling the heat generated. But he shushed you, keeping your hips in his hands and you couldn’t do anything but pout a little. Then he finally eased in all the way, you were tight around him but so damn slick that it didn’t hurt. He stopped once he bottomed out, his heavy balls resting against your ass and you finally felt so perfectly full that your hands gripped his biceps and you relaxed a little.

Tsu’tey was in ecstasy. He really had to admit that he loved this position right now, being able to see your beautiful face all pleasured and blushed made it hard not to pound into you right away. He wanted to mate with you so bad, make tsaheylu and you’d be his forever. But it was frowned upon to mate when one was going through their cycle, they weren’t really responsible in their decisions and as much as he wanted you as his mate: ultimately you had to want it to.

When he stopped and you felt him staring at you, you became impatient. „Tsu’tey“, you were begging at this point, your instincts taking over, „please move!“ He seemed to snap out of his stupor, bracing himself and starting to pull back out of you before thrusting back in. He found a rhythm, your legs hiking up on their own and wrapping around his narrow waist. You were blissed-out, his head battering your cervix and his balls slapping against your ass, soaked in a mix of your slick and his precum, was pushing you closer and closer to your high.

He was grunting above you, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, you were gripping him like a vice and he wanted to cum deep inside of you so badly. He was picking up his pace, one of his hand grabbing you leg and pulling it over his arm, the new angle suddenly allowed him to sink a bit further into you and you were clawing at his back in pleasure, a growl leaving his mouth.

You felt him hit that one spongey spot inside of your wet pussy, and you couldn’t help it, you had to be near him. So your hand took a hold of his cheeks and you pulled him into a kiss. He faltered slightly, but when his brain registers what you were doing, he kissed you back fiercely, his cock fucking into you relentlessly.

When he felt you clench around him he knew you were close, so he pulled back, littering your neck with soft kisses and the whine you let out nearly made him cum right then and there. But he held back and guided his hand between you, his rough fingers circling your clit and you immediately came around him. You were basically screaming his name, your walls gripping him so hard and your slick drenching him and he couldn’t hold out anymore. His hips rutted into you a few more times before he groaned and forcefully pushed himself as deep as you would take him.

You were still riding out your high when you felt him push into you hard, his groan making you shiver and then you felt his hot cum flow inside of you. His cock completely sealed anything from leaking out, so you were clenching in sensitivity when you felt it flow into your womb, finally satisfying the dull pain of your heat. He lowered his body so he was embracing you completely, but not crushing you with his weight. You were so, so comfortable with his skin pressed to yours, his dick still inside you and your heat ebbing away a little. Before you knew it, you were passed out in his strong arms.

Tsu’tey felt your breath even out, making him smile. You were so comfortable with him and trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms, Eywa he would make you his, he definitely would. He laid there with you a couple of minutes basking in your presence and your small hands on his chest, but then he noticed eclipse was close. He pulled out carefully, you were whining quietly and he scolded at his cum leaking out of you, unhappy that it wasn’t staying inside. He was tempted to push it back in with his fingers, but he didn’t want to wake you. He decided he would dress you back up and sneak you into the village and into his hut, your heat wasn’t over yet.

What he didn’t know, was that Jake and Neytiri were wondering where you two were and had taken a seat in a tree not far from his home. So they saw him carry your sleeping form into his hut and Neytiri smirked, while Jake frowned. „What the hell is he doing with my sister?“, Jake growled, but Neytiri just patted his arm. „Mawey ma Jake“, she grinned, rooting for you and her friend, maybe you would finally mate after this, „(Y/N) is in heat.“ Jakes eyes widened. „So he-”, Jake was slightly shocked, he had never went through a rut, so he expected you to not go through a heat, but these bodies were full of surprises. „I think you don’t want to hear exactly what they are doing, she is your sister after all“, Neytiri laughed at the face her mate pulled, „come one let’s leave them alone.“

—————————

Tsu’tey was asleep next to you in his hut, but with a female in heat next to him, more precisely a female that he wanted to mate with, he was still on high alert. And when he felt you stir in the early hours of the morning, painful whimpers leaving your mouths, he was wide awake in seconds. You were laying next to him, fingers buried deep inside your swollen and wet pussy, and your eyes were screwed shut. You looked unhappy, your fingers would never be enough to satisfy your heat. The sight was so sinful, his cock was hard already.

„Why didn’t you wake me?“, your eyes sprung open in shock, and you looked into his scolding face. You didn’t even realize he was awake. „I-I didn’t want to be a nuisance“, you were blushing when his eyes were taking in your fingers that still buried inside of you, and you pulled them out, closing your thighs in embarrassment.

Tsu’tey snatched your hand up and took your soaked fingers into his mouth, the sound of his groan making you rub your legs together for some friction, the painful sensation in your womb bugging you to no end. „You will never be a nuisance to me yawne, this pussy belongs to me and if you call for me I will be there to breed you“, he was growling under his breath and his possessive behavior made you clench around nothing.

If he would say something like this to your not-in-heat-self you would be going crazy, but all you could think about was him mounting you again. „I need you ma Tsu’tey“, the intimate pet name slipped out accidentally, but it did something to him. His pupils were blown and he climbed on top of you, pushing your legs open with ease, his hips settling between them, he seemingly liked the position from earlier. One of his large hands gripped your jaw firmly, his lips pressing to yours softer than you thought was possible for an experienced warrior like him. Your heart was beating so hard you could hear it in your ears.

His lips made their way along your jaw and started nipping at your neck, definitely leaving marks, but you didn’t care, your hands were busy untying his loincloth. When you were finally successful (his lips and your heat making you dizzy) his fully erect cock slapped against your lower stomach and you couldn’t wait for him to be buried inside of you again. He moaned at the friction he got from rubbing against you, angling his hips so that his dick could slide between your already sensitive folds, making your hips jerk when he slid over you clit.

He pulled of your top, your tits bouncing slightly and he started sucking your nipples, your back arching and your chest pressing into his face. „You are so perfect“, you heard him mumbling against you, his braids softly sliding over your skin and making you shiver, but the heat inside of you was getting unbearable and he seemed to notice, because he hesitantly pulled away from your chest and moved his hips so that his length was buried inside of you within seconds. You were so slick and ready from before and from your heat, that he slid in without resistance, a moan leaving you when the emptiness was filled once again.

The strong warrior caging you in started moving right away, he could smell your heat was burning inside of you and you needed him. You were clinging to him while he pounded into you, your whole being at his mercy, and it made him want to please you even more. „Who do you belong to ma (Y/N)?“, he was grunting through his teeth while his veiny cock was battering your needy pussy. You didn’t seem to be able to answer him, but he needed you to say it. „Say it!“, he barked, a particularly forceful thrust making you scream slightly before finally whimpering: „You, I belong to you, I always have!“ He smirked, satisfied with your answer and concentrating on making you cum again.

You would be absolutely mortified by all of this when your heat was over, but now you were in paradise, you were nearing your high and you couldn’t wait for him to fill you up. „Fuck, can I turn you around tìyawn?“, Tsu’tey was panting and you nodded desperately. You wanted to be closer to him before, but now you felt like you were so close already, the position didn’t matter anymore. He gripped your hips tightly, turning you around without pulling out and settling you down on your knees.

Your legs were shaking so bad, but he held most of your weight, so you just had to concentrate to stay bend down on your forearms. That proved to be a challenge, because you could swear the new angle made him slip as deep as never before, your eyes growing wide at the borderline painful feeling. Your primal self was basically purring with the pride of being able to take him so deep and you wrapped your tail around his arm instinctively. When he started moving he caught your spongey spot with every thrust, making you claw at the weaved ground of his hut helplessly.

Having such a strong and tall warrior dominate you like this, made your walls clench around his girthy cock and he groaned, bending over your body and positioning his arms next to your head, his chest slightly pressed to your chest. You were practically buried under his muscular form and his tail had tightly wound itself around your thigh for support, still impaled on and being thrusted into by his massive dick.

„You are taking me so well, so ready for me to breed you and fill you up“, his lips were grunting right in your ear, making them twitch, pulling chuckle from him. „Need you, need your cum ma Tsu’tey“, you whined and again, the pet name riled him up, his thrusts getting rougher and his hand finding your clit. You were so on edge that his fingers only needed to graze it and you exploded around him, making a mess of his cock.

He felt your body convulse underneath him, his grip on you tightening or you would have crashed into the floor. The sounds you let out went straight to his groin, the look of your swollen and slick pussy clenching around him and pulling him in with every thrust made him reach the edge too, a few more ruts into your tight cunt and he forced all he had inside of you.

In the midst of your orgasm you could feel his balls were tightening, his cocky twitching inside of you and then with one final groan the head that was tightly lodged against your battered cervix started gushing his seed into your womb for the second time. You were so deep into your heat, that before you fully finished your first orgasm the feeling of his hot cum pushed you into another one.

„Tsu’tey“, some tears were leaking out of your eyes from all these overwhelming feelings, your high milking him for everything he’s got. „You’re doing so well ma sevin“, he grunted next to your ear, his forehead resting against your temple, planting a soft kiss on your hot cheek. When you calmed down a little, he carefully maneuvered you two to lay on your sides, his legs meddled with yours and his strong arms holding you closely to his muscular abs and chest. His cock was still inside of you, keeping his cum locked there and you were so exhausted and satisfied that you fell asleep again, a smile forming on Tsu’teys face when he watched you relax into him.

—————————

It had been three days that Tsu’tey has fucked you in every position you could have ever imagined, filling you with his cum over and over and when you awoke on the fourth day you could feel that the dull pain in your womb was still there, but less noticeable. You were still pretty foggy from everything and didn’t notice the warrior next to you was awake too.

„Come on, it’s still really early, we should head to the spring and get cleaned up“, he whispered softly in your ear, stroking your cheek. You just hummed in agreement, and he knew you probably couldn’t walk so he got up with your form draped across his front, holding you up by your thighs and your head settling into his neck, your lips brushing his pulse making him purr. He could smell your heat was starting to subside, so he wanted to move you to the spring. You would probbaly need to be bred one more time, but he would do it there. He could feel both your bodies needed the fresh water, eventhough he liked his smell all over you.

You didn’t really remember much of the way, but when you felt him submerge your lower bodies in the soft water of the small spring, you peaked up slightly, letting out a sigh. He walked further in until only your heads were sticking out. The water was breathing some life back into you and you noticed that your heat wasn’t over fully yet, because the need for his cock to fill you was starting to flare up again.

„Can we go under for a second?“, your voice was barely above a whisper, and he smiled at you, your cheeks burning. „Sure“, he kissed you softly, taking you by surprise, but before you could react he pulled back and eased you both underwater. It felt good to get all the sweat and cum off of you, but you were also so glad that he was still holding you in his arms, his closeness dulling the pain in your womb.

Tsu’tey pulled you both up again, the sight of your perfectly soft skin covered in little water droplets made him choke. You looked ethereal, and he vowed to be the only one ever seeing you like this. But he could also see you were getting aroused again, the last wave of your heat starting. It wouldnt be as intense as the others, but he was still eager to give you his all.

He slowly walked back towards the shallow water, your loincloths and your top dripping and creating little disruptions in the water. He laid you down on the smooth stones, you were submerged to about ten centimeters, the water having a nice cooling effect. „Hm you ready to take me one last time ma yawntu?“, he murmered into your ear, his tail thrashing lazily behind him.

Eywa, you would do anything for this man. The way he was so gentle with you in this moment made you almost tear up (your emotions were running really high right then). „Yes, yes please I need you“, you softly whimpered, pulling off your top and loincloth with shaky hands, the last wave of your heat making the slick gather again between your legs.

Tsu’tey was way softer with you this time, taking his time with preparing you (not that you needed it after three days of being fucked by him) and pulling an orgasm out of you, before finally pulling off his own loincloth. You were a panting mess underneath him already, making him smirk slightly, Eywa, when you were his, he would have you like this every day.

He balanced his weight on one arm and gripped his leaking cock, moving it up and down your slit and catching onto clit now and then just to see you squirm. „Tsu’tey“, you whined, still sensitive from your prior orgasm, and he finally relented. He pushed his head in and adjusted his position slightly, before sinking into you fully.

He didn’t give you time to adjust, but you didn’t need it, and he thrusted into you with precision, but more gentle than the times before. You were grateful, eventhough you were feeling so blissful right now, your pussy was still so sensitive and swollen from being fucked around the clock. His whole body was covering you, and you lost yourself in his rhythm, but then he suddenly turned you both around, so you were lying on top.

He sat up and slightly crossed his legs, his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you as close as possible. Because you had absolutely no strength left in your legs, you weren’t able to hold yourself up and slid all the way onto his cock, the depth he was reaching making you yelp and grab his shoulders for support. „Tsu’tey I don’t think my legs can-”, you wanted to tell him you wouldn’t be able to ride him, but he smirked and interrupted you.

„Don’t worry I got you, just wanted to hold you closer“, he explained with his rough voice and you quite literally melted into his arms. He could be such a softie if he wanted to. He started thrusting up into you from underneath you, and you moaned, admiring how high his stamina was. His dick was reaching so far into you, his veins and texture rubbing against the spongey spot and his hand guiding you up and down a little without you having to really engage any muscle. Not that you were able to, you were so fucked out.

He was so tall compared to your small frame, that eventhough you were sitting on him he had to lean down a little to kiss you. You loved his kisses, his lips fit perfectly against yours, and when he pushed his tongue against yours, you pulled yourself closer with a moan. You wished he would be yours forever, not only for these few days. Even thinking about not having him close anymore made you shiver, but you pushed that thought away for now.

„Want you to cum around my cock again, going to fill you up one more time“, he panted slightly, the exertion from this position making him grunt, but he loved how close you were so he didn’t care. You whined and could feel yourself nearing your high again, and after three days he could read your body body perfectly, so he immediately pulled one hand away from your waist and wedged it in between you two, circling your clit.

When he started to nip at your neck, you reached your peak, pulling him in and gushing all over his cock. This one was so intense you let out a scream of his name, your vision going white for a moment. „Fuck such a good girl“, he groaned, his hips stuttering slightly and then he pulled you down as much as possible, before he came too, his seed spurting deep inside your already awaiting womb. The dull pain of your heat subsided completely at that, and you came down from your high slowly, sighing into his neck and clenching from the overstimulation.

He was out of breath, but he watched with a smile how the exhaustion of your heat being over hit you like a rock. You were falling asleep in his arms again, and he kissed your cheek softly, carefully pulling out and dressing you two up again, before carrying you back to his hut. When you had slept the exhaustion off, he planned to ask you to be his mate right away, he had finished the necklace he made as a courting gift over the past few days when you were sleeping. You would be his.

————————

When you awoke the next time, it was early morning, and the man next to you was surprisingly still asleep. The man next to you. Tsu’tey was laying next to you! Your brain was fully awake in seconds, and everything that happened the last few days came crushing down on your now totally clear mind. Oh my god. This fine warrior had bent you in all positions thinkable and fucked you!

This was bad, your now fully functional brain riddled with insecurity. Did he only help you through your heat, because you were around him when it started? Or because he feels responsible for you? Fuck, you quite literally threw yourself at this tall Na’vi, you wanted the ground to swallow you right then and there. You even called him ‚ma Tsu’tey’ the pet name normally reserved for mated couples, how were you supposed to recover from this, you would never get over your feelings now, and it would probably always be awkward between you. Maybe not on his part, helping eachother through cycles was normal after all, but definitely on yours.

You would always have to think about this when you looked at him in the future, a future where he one day would have a mate and a life without you. Your breathing was picking up speed, and you just couldn’t stay there. If he woke up and told you to go now that your heat was over, you would never ever recover from that rejection. And you also didn’t want him to feel obligated to anything, you had been clingy and desperate enough these past days. The memories made your cheeks burn.

So you carefully pulled yourself out of his arms, the unhappy grunting making you fear that he was waking up, but he settled down again and his breathing evened out. You got up, standing on your wobbly legs, your muscles aching from the exertion of the past days, but after a few clumsy steps, you walked out of his hut with some dignity.

Getting down the tree with sore muscles was another challenge, and you were glad most of the village was still sleeping so they couldn’t witness this. Your hut was in another corner of the forest surrounding the village, and when you finally made it up there you fell into the bedlike plantfibres in the corner with a thud. Your legs were shaking again, but atleast you made it home. Compared to Tsu’teys hut yours was way smaller, you hadn’t built it yourself (you could never do this), it was a gift from the villagers, as you were the sister of Toruk Makto.

You were laying there staring up at the ceiling, hearing the soft wind rustle the leaves, and it fully sank in that you had had everything you wanted with the man of your dreams for the last few days, and now that was over. You were already longing to be in his arms again, the thought of never being this close to him again made your eyes water. And when you thought of having to face him again, the exhaustion and emotions broke all your walls, and you were crying silently until you had cried everything out.

————————

When Tsu’tey woke up, he wanted to pull you close again, but froze when he noticed you weren’t in his arms. His eyes flew open and he quickly scanned the hut, his mind playing one scenario more horrible than the last when you weren’t there. He immediately took his knive and put on his sheath, ignoring all the clan members greeting him and climbing up the tree where your hut was located in record time. But you weren’t there, and that’s when he began to panick.

He found your brother and Neytiri talking near their own hut, and rudely interrupted them, but he didn’t care he needed to know you were safe. „Where is your sister Jake Sully?“, his voice was rough and the pair flinched slightly at the sudden appearance of the warrior. „I think I saw her go into the forest earlier, did something happen?“, the Olo’eyktan was worried, he thought you and Tsu’tey had feelings for one another, why didn’t his best warrior know your whereabouts. „Where?“, Tsu’tey ignored Jakes question and Neytiri was looking thoughtful, her eyebrows furrowed. „Right there, in the direction of the spring“, your brother was pointing to his right, and Tsu’tey ignored his further questioning, disappearing into the forest too.

You managed to avoid Tsu’tey all day, he probably wanted to tell you that you should keep your relations on the low, and you just weren’t ready to face his rejection yet. It seemed like the other females of the clan knew he helped you through your heat, because you were getting some nasty stares and they obviously talked about you, but you knew they wouldn’t touch you - your brothers position protecting you.

Tsu’tey wasn’t worried anymore, he was getting frustrated bordering on angry with you. Why were you running from him? You had been so needy and clingy a day ago and now he couldn’t seem to get a hold of you. He was standing near the seated Na‘vi who had dinner, not hungry himself - at least not for food. He had thought that maybe you would come here, but he didn’t see you. „You know, eventually that frown is going to be permanent“, Jake stood next to him, and Tsutey just scoffed at the comment.

„She will come around, she’s just…she was human at one point you know“, he continued talking to him and Tsu’tey perked up. „What do you mean?“, his eyes stopped searching the crowd for you and settled on the Olo’eyktan. „Humans don’t…get that physical that quickly, at least my sister never did. And she really likes you, the way I know her, I think that she’s probably scared to be rejected now that her mind is clear and functioning again“, Jake hadn’t talked to you today either, you had avoided everyone, but he just knew his little sister.

„Reject her? Why the fuck would I do that?“, Tsu’teys frown deepened and the former dreamwalker smiled. He knew his sister would be in good hands once she got over herself. „You should talk to her, I’m pretty sure I saw her slip past your gaze a minute ago and in the direction of her hut“, Jake smirked when Tsu’tey immediately took off.

You sighed when you sat down on the soft plantfibres in the corner of your small home. You had manage to dodge the tall Na‘vi warrior all day, and you hoped you were safe here for the night. Maybe you could face him tomorrow. The tsmisnrr illuminated your hut softly and you felt like you could finally relax, when someone barged into your home, making you jump. (Lantern the Na‘vi use for light)

Your heart dropped when your gaze met Tsu’teys, his eyes looking down on your shrinking form with anger, his regular frown etched onto his forehead. „What are you- Why are you-”, you were stuttering around and blushed slightly under his intense stare, and with a few long strides, he sank to his knees infront of you. „Why did you leave? Why were you running from me?“, he was basically snarling at you and you flinched.

This wasn’t what you expected, you thought he would reject you right away, telling you he was just helping you through your heat and to not interpret more into this. „Uhm…I-I didn’t want to bother you?“, it sounded like a question and it made him scoff. „Why the fuck would you think you would bother me? Have the last three days meant nothing to you?“, he was still angry, but you could also see that he was slightly hurt. That shocked you, you didn’t think he would care if you left.

„No! I mean yes, yes they did, I just…didn’t think they meant anything to you“, the last part was whispered so quietly that you weren’t sure he heard, but he did and his face fell slightly. „What?“, his posture was sagging a little, and you were talking again before you could stop your mouth.

„I-I thought you were just helping me through my heat? And I’m sorry for…throwing myself at you in the forest the way that I did, I didn’t want to make you do anything you didn’t want to, you could have taken me to someone else for help I promise I wouldn’t have been mad“, you were ashamed again when you though back on how desperate you were. He stiffened, his muscles rigid and his gaze dark, and you shrank a little more.

„You would’ve rather someone else had fucked you the last three days?“, his voice was dangerously calm, but he was boiling under the surface. Even the thought of someone else helping you through your heat made him want to commit murder. „No! I mean I…“, you took a deep breath, „I wanted it to be you, but I didn’t want you to feel like you had to. You don’t have to feel like you’re obligated to me or something.“ This made him relax slightly, he was so confused by you still though.

„You didn’t make me do anything, I’ve thought about fucking you almost since the day I met you, and there won’t ever be anyone else who will touch you like that yawne, trust me“, he grunted and he couldn’t control his urge to be near you anymore. He missed your touch all day, and when you didn’t resist his hand taking yours, he used it to pull you into his lap, his arms circling around your waist and holding your sweet blushing self close to him.

„I meant what I said the last days, you are mine“, you refused to meet his eyes, „I see you (Y/N).“ At this you looked up in shock. What? Did he really just say what you thought he did? „What?“, your voice was choked and you looked at him with big eyes, his hands stroking your back distracting you slightly. “I don’t understand why you ever thought I wouldn’t want you, but I chose you as my mate a long time ago”, your heart skipped a beat, you couldn’t believe this was happening.

Tsu’tey fiddled with the little pouch in his waist for a second and you were breathless. He pulled out a beautiful necklace, small pearls and stones and crystals in colors that matched his own were artistically woven together in a small intricate row. “I made this for you, as a courting gift, if you accept me as your mate”, his voice was soft now, he was holding the necklace up to you, offering himself as your mate and your eyes were watering slightly.

You started to nod immediately, your voice not quite working yet. “Yes, yes, please, will you put it on me?”, you were shaking slightly in his arms, and the relief he felt when you accepted him was making him feel weightless. A rare smile made its way onto his face, and he carefully fixed the necklace around your flawless throat. It was more like a loose chocker and it looked perfect on you. Everyone could see you were his now.

“I see you Tsu’tey”, you whispered and he was the happiest man on the whole planet, his lips finding yours automatically. After spending the whole day without you, he finally felt whole again. When you two separated to breathe, he finally asked what was burning on his mind still. “I still don’t understand why you were avoiding me”, he was just curious at this point, you already agreed to be his after all.

“Uh…I just was convinced you helped me through my heat out of obligation and were going to reject me the next time we saw eachother”, the tips of your ears were burning, and he was still not satisfied with that explanation. “I was tending to your every need for three days, and you thought I would reject you?”, his voice was slightly offended, and you were quick to explain.

“It’s just that, it’s so unrealistic for you to choose me as your mate. There are so many talented and fully Na’vi women who would immediately agree to be yours. I didn’t think you were interested in a former human”, you were hesitant to spill your insecurities, but you knew he deserved to know that it were your insecurities that kept you away and that it wasn’t his fault at all.

“You are fully Na’vi, you are one of the people. And there is no other woman I would ever even think about in that way, you are the only one I will ever want, the only one who owns my heart”, he softly kissed you again, Eywa he could be so sweet. “Tìyawn, I can’t wait anymore, I need to make you mine right now”, he was getting impatient, pulling you up with him and leading you down the tree.

“Where are we going?”, you were hoping it would be somewhere where he would spread your legs again, you already felt empty just thinking about it. You swear he could smell the moisture gathering between your legs, because his head whipped around with a smirk while he pulled you through the forest. “Utral Aymokriyä, to mate with you before Eywa“, he smiled down at you, and you couldn’t believe he was really going to be your mate soon.

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Another one for Tsu’tey because he’s just my favorite <3 hope you enjoyed as people I love for your sweet and encouraging comments so leave some love!

Taglist: @eywas-heir @brooklynscherry-z @liyahsocorro

#x reader #fluff #smut #angst #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar james cameron #tsu’tey x reader #tsu’tey #tsutey #heat cycles #jake sully #neytiri #omaticaya #fanfic

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