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hugsandchaos · 3 months

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Seeing Double

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Summary: A ghost who looks a lot like Phantom comes to him in search of protection, and their newest member instantly agrees. He calls her his little sister, and sooner or later, Phantom also might end up with a new brother.

*bangs pots and pans together* @vixen-uchiha, @starlightcat04, @blueliac, COME GET Y’ALL’S JUICE!!!

Phantom smiled to himself looking up at the night sky. The event he’d been waiting for finally started a few minutes ago, the top right “corner” of the moon was dark with the tiniest hint of red on the “edge”. He was pretty grateful for being allowed to go outside for the lunar eclipse. Especially since the other members of Young Justice got to tag along as well. He could hear Wally explaining the specifics of the event to Conner below, but ignored it.

Phantom was well above the trees so he could get a perfect view of the lunar eclipse, so it wasn’t very hard to ignore them. Especially since he was so happy about what he was going to see soon. And by soon, he meant an hour or so. Since they were so far out from the city the civilization in general, Phantom also had an amazing view of the stars. It seemed like every second he spent looking at them instead of the moon, a new one would pop into existence. Or he’d recognize another constellation.

He leaned back so he was floating with his back facing the ground and crossed one of his legs over the other. He folded his arms over his abdomen and smiled fondly, acting as if he was laying on solid ground instead of being in midair. Then a small blue fog of smoke came out of his mouth.

Phantom quickly swung himself upright and looked around. He really didn’t want to deal with any ghost fights right now, he just wanted some peace. As he scanned the area around him, he noticed something in the distance. It definitely wasn’t a star, and it was too small to be a pod. It might be the ghost he had sensed being nearby.“Phantom?” Robin called out. The ghostly hero glanced down below.”Everything alright?” He asked.

Phantom nodded and went back to looking at the ghost.”Yeah, just a second. I think I see something.” He yelled back. He squinted his eyes to try to see if he could recognize the ghost. It didn’t take long for him to figure out who it was, and when he did, a huge smile broke out across his face.

“Danielle!!!” Phantom called out.

He quickly rushed towards his younger clone. He didn’t notice his friends calling for him, but he noticed that Dani had definitely spotted him since she was also hurdling towards him. They reached each other somewhere midway and Phantom slowed down enough before they practically collided with each other. Dani didn’t really slow down as soon as him and knocked him back a little, but he wasn’t too fazed by the impact and wrapped his arms around her.

He hugged his sister considerably tighter than he usually hugs people, and spun around a bit as a small way to release some of the new, excited energy. Dani laughed a little as they spun, then he stopped.”How have you been?!” He asked excitedly.

“I’ve been great!!” She said. They both ended the hug with big grins on their face, very happy to see the other after months had passed. Phantom was about to ask her about her time apart from him, but she opened her mouth to speak.”I’ve seen so many cool things that I wanna tell you about, and guess what?!“ She asked. She held her mouth open and pointed at the upper part. That’s when Phantom noticed her canine teeth were a bit bigger than a regular human’s.”I’ve grown fangs, like yours!” She exclaimed. The older halfa gasped softly. He wasn’t quite sure what emotion had just swelled up in his chest a little, but he’s felt it before, and it was definitely positive.

Was it pride? Was he proud of her? He wasn’t sure if that was it or not, but the feeling remained.”That’s so cool, Dani! They’re fang-tastic.” He said.

Dani’s grin grew a little bit wider when he said that.”Why, fang you!” She said. Suddenly, her expression changed drastically from pure excitement to what looked like distrust. Her eyes looked at something behind him, and Phantom quickly turned around to see what or who it was that caused her reaction.

Megan was floating there.”Who’s your friend, Phantom?” She asked kindly. Phantom calmed down a little and smiled again. He glanced back at Dani again and noticed how she looked a little confused, but still defensive. He floated back to be next to Dani.

“Hey, Megan! This is my little sister. She has the same powers as me.” He said. Him talking with his friend so calmly and casually seemed to help Dani relax. Which was what he was hoping for.

Megan’s smile grew as she looked over at the other halfa.”Really?! You’ve never mentioned your relatives before!” She said. She held a hand out.”It’s really nice to meet you, Danielle. I’m Megann! Well, Megann is my Earth name.” She introduced herself. Dani glanced over at Phantom. He knew what it was she was asking and gave her an encouraging nod. With the affirmation that it was safe, Dani smiled and shook Megann’s hand.”Nice to meet you too.” She said with a small smile. For a moment, Phantom was happy that they hadn’t met her in some kind of fight or had a misunderstanding. Then he remembered something pretty important. Not wanting to make it awkward, though, he decided to try to play it cool.

He gave Megann a slightly apologetic look.”I’m sorry, but would you mind letting us chat for a bit? We have a lot to catch up on and talk about, and something tells me it’s going to get a little personal.” He asked politely. He tried to make it understandable and reasonable, and to him, that sounded like a good explanation. He’s been pretty private about his life before he joined Young Justice, anyways.

Megann nodded.”Oh, yeah, of course! I’ll let the others know what you’re doing if they ask.” She said. The older halfa agreed with that idea and nodded to show it. The martian turned around and flew back to the others, and once she was gone, Phantom glanced over at Dani.

She turned to him at the same time, also looking pretty serious. Seemed like they both had something to say.”You go first.” Phantom said. Dani remained silent for an extra minute. Phantom waited until an idea of what it was entered his head, and he didn’t like it one bit.”It wasn’t Vlad, was it?” He asked. Dani shook her head.

“I was... I was spotted by one of them.”

Those words briefly made Phantom’s core stop. The sweet moment suddenly turned way more sour than he was expecting. His eyes widened in shock and horror and they both floated in silence for a while. With each passing second, Dani looked more and more like she’d start to cry. Tears were slowly starting to form, but she was holding back.”I don’t want them to catch me... We both know I can’t go into the Ghost Zone, so... I didn’t know what else to do.” She said. Her voice came close to cracking at the end.

Phantom quickly pulled his mind back together. An urge to protect his sister began to block out the fear he also felt for her and he pulled her into a hug.”They won’t get the chance. I’ll do everything to make sure of it.” He said. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d be able to actually protect her against part of the government, but he wasn’t lying. He was going to do whatever he could to protect her from the Guys In White. Dani hugged back.”Thank you.” She said.

“Anytime.” Phantom said. It was practically obvious to him. As long as his core was still vibrating and his heart was still beating, he’d protect her against anything.”But listen, my team doesn’t know I’m a halfa. They only think I��m a ghost. I think you should say the same.” He said. Dani nodded.

They soon ended the hug and Dani looked better than before. Phantom noticed something above and pointed behind her.”Look at that.” He said. Dani followed his gaze and let out a small, amazed “ohh” under her breath when she saw it. The lunar eclipse wasn’t complete yet, but it was getting there. A part of it was still white, but the majority of it was getting more and more red, and even looked a little orange.”I saw one of those before. Lunar eclipse, right?” She asked.

“Mhmm.” Phantom confirmed.

The two remained there for only a few minutes, watching the moon change ever so slightly, before Dani filled the silence again.”Can we meet the rest of your teammates?” She asked, turning to face him.

“Duhh! This way.” Phantom said, then flew to where his friends had set up camp.

It was a pretty short flight, and once there, his teammates were already looking at them. The group had used Megan’s bioship to fly out an hour or so away from the mountain and brought their own tents, and obviously some campfire snacks along with other necessities. They were all aligned in a circle with a sort of “entrance” facing the direction of the bioship. Phantom landed with Dani close behind and glanced back at her to make sure she wouldn’t get overwhelmed or anything. He wasn’t entirely sure how good her social skills were. She looked a little bit surprised, but overall okay. Phantom turned to his team.”Hey, guys! Hope you don’t mind one more.” He said, gesturing towards his sister. Dani smiled and waved at them.

Megan was the first of them to speak.”Not at all! Come on over, the eclipse is getting closer.” She said. Dani accepted the invitation and began walking over to them. Phantom obviously followed.

He noticed Conner looking a little surprised, but brushed it off since everyone seemed a bit surprised to learn that he apparently had a sister. Dani floated off the ground to be more at eye level with his friends.”How come all of your friends are taller than me?” She asked, glancing back at Phantom. He just shrugged and grinned.”I guess you just got the short end of the stick.” He said. Dani rolled her eyes and looked back at them.

“I’m Danielle! It’s nice to meet all of my brother’s new teammates.” She said. Robin held his hand out and Dani accepted it.

“It’s nice to meet you too. I’m Robin. That’s Wally, Artemis, Conner, Kaldur, and you’ve already met Megan.” He said. Phantom leaned closer to Dani and pointed at Wally.

“He doesn’t really believe in ghosts, so feel free to bug him when he’s not training or on missions.” He whispered.

Wally glared at him and Robin and Artemis both muffled a laugh behind their hands.”Hey!” Wally snapped. Dani gasped almost slightly offended, then grinned mischievously.

“Oh, I’d love to!” She said. Before she said something else, though, Conner spoke up.

“Megan told us you’re his little sister, but I didn’t expect you to look practically just like our friend. You could be mistaken for twins if it wasn’t for the age difference.” He said. He didn’t seem upset, and Phantom was a bit relieved about it. He didn’t think that Conner would start anything, but he had anger issues and had... negative reactions to being reminded that he’s a clone of someone who doesn’t like him.

Dani shrugged a little. “Well, yeah! I’m his clone, so of course I look like him and have similar powers.“ She said. The camp went quiet. The atmosphere wasn’t exactly heavy or intense, but it certainly wasn’t as happy and calm as before. Dani noticed the change and at first was confused, then she started to grow nervous. She glanced between Phantom’s teammates.

Finally, one of them spoke.“You said she’s your little sister.” Wally said. Phantom immediately hopped onto the defensive, but tried to remember about their treatment towards Conner and not mistake his confusion in his voice for something negative.

Dani seemed to make that mistake, though, since she began floating closer to him with a pretty nervous expression.”Yeah, because she is. Just because there’s no legal documentation or something doesn’t mean she can’t be my family.” Phantom said. Dani stopped right next to him and nodded in agreement. To her surprise and not her big brother’s, his friends all seemed almost a little heart warmed by this. Conner just looked surprised.

“That’s nice of you. To give her a family.” Kaldur said.

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t, but thanks?” Phantom said. Dani suddenly flew upwards and looked at the sky.

“Enough with the sentimental stuff, we’re going to miss it!” She said. The older halfa quickly remembered the reason they’d come outside in the first place and let out a small “oh”. He followed her lead and smiled at the moon once he was above the trees.

It was now completed and fully red. Sure, there was still a tiny bit of lighter red, but the huge majority looked a lot like blood. It was a little creepy, but Phantom still couldn’t help but admire it. It was amazing, and made him almost forget about the talk he’d need to have with Kaldur and Red Tornado, and possibly the rest of the league later. He’d think about that after the eclipse was over. For now, he was just going to enjoy the sight.

#dp x yj #yj x dp #young justice #danny phantom #danny fentom #dani phantom #yj Megan #Yj Conner #Yj Robin #yj kid flash #seeing double #danny phantom crossover #young Justice crossover #danny being a big brother to dani

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tallulah477 · 1 month

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Prove To You

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Yandere!Neteyam, ***NON-CON***, Dub-con, Predator/Prey Kink, Chasing, Obsessive/Possessive Behavior, Oral (female receiving), Edging/Orgasm Delay, P in V, Knotting, Size Difference, Fingering, Slight Degradation (use of 'whore'), Belly Bulge, Lapdance (kinda), Creampie, Alien Genitalia, Squirting, A Few Ass Slaps, Mentions of drinking and being tipsy/drunk, Brief Violence/Violent Thoughts (not towards reader), Brief mention of pregnancy, Threat of cutting off another's kuru/neural queue, Thoughts of killing/murder, One (1) non-sexual face slap (reader slaps Neteyam)

Word Count: 9.7K 💀

A/N: Hiiiii it's been a while 🤷🏻‍♀️

Summary: It was only ever supposed to be a hookup, something fun to pass the time. But to Neteyam, it was so much more than that. He's in love with you, obsessed with you - his perfect little mate. But he doesn't know why you keep running away.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**

Translations:

Yawne - Beloved

Tìyawn - Love

Tweng - Loincloth

Tawtute - Human

Kuru - Neural Queue

Tsaheylu - Bond, Neural Connection

Swoasey - kava bowl (constructed from seed pods, used for drinking intoxicating beverages)

Kaltxì - Hello

Pxir - Beer

Tsahìk - Spiritual Leader / Healer

Skxawng - Moron / Idiot

Iknimaya - Rite of Passage

Oel Ngati Kameie - I See You

Tanhì - Star

Muntxate - Wife, Female Spouse

Mawey - Calm

He’d only wanted to kiss you. To feel your soft lips pressed against his again.

It had been so long since he’d gotten to feel them. The mask you have to wear is always a frustrating obstacle. He begs from time to time for you to pull it off, just for a moment, so he can press his warm lips to yours, taste your tongue on his just for a few blissful seconds before the lack of air catches up with you and you have to replace it.

You always say no, always push his hand away from where he has it cupped lovingly around the side of your head, but it never stops him from asking.

You’re not wearing a mask now though. Instead, a long tube spans one side of your face, curling around your ear and stretching across your cheek before the very end of it forks off into your nostrils. At first glance he panicked, terrified of the thought of you out in the dangerous Pandora environment as a human without your only source of oxygen. It’s silly. He knows that you could have never made it to the village from the lab without some way of breathing. But he can’t help how he reacts, needing to be sure, needing to know that you’re okay.

He’s at your side in an instant, kneeling in front of your tiny frame, large hands engulfing your head as his eyes searched your face in concern. You smack his hand away, answering his concerned questions of “Ma yawne, what is going on? Are you okay?” with a short “Fine. It’s the new tech the lab guys made,”

He calms, anxiety slipping from his body now that he knows you’re still safe. His eyes flicker over your face, a small smile pulling at his lips as he takes in all your beautiful features in front of him. You’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, he’s always thought that, ever since the very first moment he met you all those years ago. But now here, without the thick layer of glass covering your face, it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

“You’re so pretty, tìyawn,” He whispers, fingers unconsciously reaching out again to brush against your cheek. It’s finally accessible, bare and soft under his fingertips before the dull sting of another slap knocks his hand away.

You don’t like public displays of affection.

Or, at least, now you don’t.

You used to not mind it. Back before that night in front of the fire, you would touch him all the time - sweet and gentle touches when you were talking, so tactile in your interactions with him. A quick squeeze to his knee whenever he was able to make you laugh, friendly half hugs as greetings that would make his heart pound in his chest every single time, your intoxicating scent filling his lungs and suffocating him in the best way.

He’d keep his nose buried in your neck, breathing you in until you were all he could smell or think about for the rest of eternity if he could.

He used to carry you places when you would tag along on fun adventures with him and his siblings. Excitement coursed through him every time you agreed to join them, tail swishing eagerly behind him because he knew that eventually you would get tired from walking and allow him to carry you on his back. You like to talk, prattling on about whatever was going on at the lab or a fun new piece of tech that Norm and the others were working on. Sometimes you’d talk about the current drama - someone said you talked too much, were too abrasive, but that you thought that they personally needed to grow a backbone. He’d listen to whatever you had to say - soaking up your voice like the most melodic song and committing every detail you provide him to memory.

But your voice has a physical response on him. But the horrified looks his siblings would send him when they would see the tent in his tewng from where his hard cock had slipped out of its sheath was always well worth the embarrassment. The feeling of your soft skin on his - arms wrapping around his neck for balance, his hands completely engulfing your warm thighs from where they wrapped tightly around his torso as far as they could. He’s spent many nights imagining them wrapped around his waist from the front instead.

You didn’t mind public displays of affection when you drank an entire swoasey of pxir and danced in front of him by the fire. The celebration had wound down, the clan members satisfied in celebrating the induction of The People who had passed their Iknimaya just a few hours ago. Only a few younger adults who seemed to have the same idea as you remained now, each couple splintering off to different parts of the campground to get their much needed privacy. Even Lo’ak has moved away, enamored by the pretty girl sitting on his lap, uncaring about the way his hands slide down to cup her ass and pull her closer.

The fading glow of yellows and oranges look amazing against your skin, the steady crackle of the fire like a song all on its own as your hips move to the music only your own head and nature provides. Neteyam’s eyes are wide, excitement coursing through his veins as he watches your hips sway. You sway too, your body a bit unsteady from the drink still in your hand, but mostly it's your hips - the sensual swish back and forth, beads from your tewng (a gift from Kiri he suspects) clank together against each other and your thighs. Your pretty thighs, so soft he wants to wrap his entire hand around them, spread them open for him and see you like he’s always dreamed of. You’d be so wet, so sticky and drenched for him that he’d be able to just slide right in. You were made for him. Made to take him. He’d fit between your thighs so perfectly despite your size difference, he knows he would.

His breath catches in his throat when you dance closer, small body seductive in the way it calls to him with your movements. You toss the swoasey to the side, the little liquid that was left pouring out and soaking into the ground beside you. Your hands find their way to his bent knees, heat filled eyes never leaving his as you push his legs apart so you can stand between them, searing him with their intensity even from behind the glass of your mask.

Your hands slide up his legs, tiny fingers creeping up the insides of his thighs and he can’t help the audible gulp that escapes him when he feels his cock nudge against his already wet slit, threatening to poke out at any moment.

Great Mother, you’re so gorgeous. The most beautiful woman Eywa has ever created. You must have been created by her - no other god or goddess or being could ever have made anything more perfect and irresistible than Eywa herself.

Surely, the Great Mother has made you for him. Just for him.

“Why so nervous, Teyam?” You giggle, leaning up as far as you can towards his face while still keeping your teasing hands on his thighs, dangerously close to the now bulging fabric. “Tawtute got your tongue?”

“I–um–” He chokes out. He can’t breath, can’t breath with you so fucking close to him. He wants you so badly, wants to touch you so badly he feels like he might die if he doesn’t.

And then you're turning in the cage of his open thighs, back pressing against his front as you grab his shaking hand. There’s a satisfied smirk on your face as you drag his arm around you, the large appendage spanning your entire chest as he sprawls his fingers out across your front. His fingertips automatically curl around the curve of your breast while his palm caresses the other through your beaded top, his body subconsciously reacting to your own guidance.

His heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might explode in his chest, breathing labored as his hard cock digs into your back.

“You can touch me,” You whisper, but his ears flick at your words and catch them loud and clear. “Want you to play with me.”

“Ha-fuck,” He groans, mouth falling open in silent awe as your top shifts underneath his hand and his finger grazes your hard nipple. Without thinking his hand squeezes your chest, gently but firm enough for you to gasp as he greedily gropes both breasts at once.

He can smell you now, the mind dizzying scent of your arousal filling the air around you both as you gasp and giggle excitedly at his sudden action, both of your tiny hands reaching up to grip at his big one as you press him tighter against you.

“Come on, Teyam,” You moan, moan, and he’s not even touching you yet. You turn your head to look at him, craning your neck as you stare up at him with wide, lust filled eyes. “Have some fun with me.”

That night he spent with you under the hypnotic glow of the fire will be forever burned into his mind. Every detail, every moan, every sigh, every praise and whine and plea spilling from your lips as he made love to you for the very first time is kept under the sacred lock and key of his heart - a memory he saved with Eywa back at the Spirit Tree the morning after so that he would never have the possibility of forgetting.

The memory of your gasp as he pushed you down, beads flying across the mossy ground as he tore your clothes off like an animal and how the roughness of it all made your arousal even stronger. His eyes greedy as they took in their fill of your beautiful body splayed out in front of him like a prize before he covered you with his own. Your fingers teased along his bullet wound scar, tracing the raised line with careful fingers, and he thinks that maybe your loving touch will be enough to fully heal it.

The place between your thighs feels like home, your tiny pussy swallowing him up and holding him close like the most perfect combination of love and safety. Your voice ringing in his ears, sweet and sensual as you whimper and moan telling him faster, Teyam, fuck me harder, oh god, and he whines in return, cock throbbing and embarrassingly close to bursting so fast already, and sending up thanks and prayers to the Great Mother for granting him this amazing moment with you.

It’s the blending of two hearts, two souls made for each other and coming together as one in a bond so powerful that no one can ever break it. It doesn’t matter that you don’t have a kuru, Neteyam can feel you in himself anyway - can feel you wrapping your tiny fingers around his brain and heart and very being, solidifying your bond together without the need for tsaheylu.

And when you pull your mask off, holding your breath as the hiss of air escapes from the broken seal around your face - he can’t breathe either. The feel of your lips on his, soft and demanding as you kiss him passionately as he fucks you on the forest floor, makes him see stars.

He’s not sure where the change of behavior came from. One day you were affectionate, touchy and giving with your love, surrounding him with your scent and embrace, pussy wrapped around his cock in a hug so tight he thought you might never let go. He wouldn’t mind that, being buried in your heat forever, warm and loved until the day he dies. But the next morning the walls came up, the attitude started, and when he had gone to greet you with a blinding smile and an adoring ‘kaltxì, yawne,’ on his lips as he bent to kiss your cheek, you pulled back and pressed a firm hand against his belly to push him away.

He thought that your coldness was nerves, just a reaction a human might have to the new soul bond you’ve experienced. Humans don’t mate for life like the Na’vi do, but you’re special, you’re his, and Eywa has blessed your union and made it so even though it should not be possible. Maybe you just don’t know how to handle it. It’s okay, he can be the patient and supportive mate you need.

But the coldness and hostility doesn’t stop, the days go by and the passage of time doesn’t make you calm down. You don’t throw your arms around him like he wants you to, don’t say those three words he longs to hear fall from your lips said with all the love and trust that you have in your little tawtute body.

Instead, there’s almost anger, a sudden indifference that he can’t seem to place. Had he done something wrong? He doesn’t think so. So, he tries to do the best he can, be the best mate he can be for you during your obvious time of struggle. He’s always there for you, will always be there for you, providing support and bringing you fresh meat, dicing up your favorite fruits and making you pretty jewelry that he knows will look so beautiful on you if you ever just wear it.

You don’t. You toss the jewelry to the side like it's nothing, you let the food rot exactly where he’s left it.

You’re not a Na’vi, you don’t understand the implication of your crassness towards his gifts. You don’t see how your refusals break his heart. It’s okay - you’ll learn. Humans are . . . unusual creatures. It will just take a bit more time for you to warm up to the ways of The People.

But his optimism stings with each slight, each indifference you show towards him. Great Mother, you’re so mean to him. Always trying to run from him when he grabs at you, ripping your hand away from his whenever he tries to hold it. You’ve been hiding from him, your trips into the village getting less and less frequent and you don’t let him in when he tries to come to the lab to visit you.

“You don’t even like being here,” You say when he tries. And you’re right. The stuffiness of the lab makes him tense, and it feels like he can sometimes feel the energy from the machines pressing up against his body. But when he’s with you he doesn’t care. You’re the only thing that matters to him, and when he’s with you, it’s like everything else just falls away.

The sting from your smack is still on his hand, but he shakes it off as he reaches out to caress your arm instead. “Ma yawne, are you hungry? You should come to my hut. I’ll cook you a fi–”

“No,” You interrupt, shrugging him off of your arm. “I’m not hungry.”

“Oh,” He breathes, disappointment burrowing in his chest but he tries not to let it show even as his fingers reach out to graze against your wrist. “Well then maybe we can go on a walk? There’s a lake not too far from here that I’ve been wanting to show you. It’s beautiful.” Beautiful like you. “I know you’ll love it.”

“No, Neteyam,” You say again, pulling your wrist from his wandering fingers and crossing your arms across your chest. “I’m busy.”

“What are you doing? Maybe I could–”

“No,”

The clipped word rings in his ears. No, no, no, always no. He’s your mate, you shouldn’t have to tell him no. Where you go, he goes. Where he goes, you go. Together. Simple as that. And yet it’s still always no, no, no. You’re turning away from him without another word, walking away with strides he thinks are way too quick for a human, and he can’t help but wonder where you’re heading to in such a rush.

“Okay,” He calls out, desperate for the conversation not to be over but knowing it will just upset you if he follows you. “I’ll come see you later, tìyawn. I swear it!”

You don’t even look back.

He hasn’t seen you in nearly a week and his patience is running thin.

Your absence is killing him.

Where are you? Why won’t you see him? He knows you have to be suffering too without him. Mated pairs aren’t meant to be without each other for so long and he feels like he’s been apart from you for an eternity.

You stopped coming to the village. He’s been looking, desperately hoping that he’ll see you among the multitude of faces he sees every day. He wants to hear your voice so badly, wants to pull you into his arms and hold you there, safe and loved, while the warmth of your skin soaks into his.

He wants to push you down again, cover you with his body as he presses you into his sleeping mat - your sleeping mat. Both of yours, together, the way it should be as he plows into your swollen cunt. His hut should be covered in your scent by now, not an inch of it left without your mark on it.

It’s not, and his understanding for your trouble adjusting to the bond is quickly dissipating.

He’s tried to come see you at the lab multiple times. A lot. Every day. The lab guys turn him away.

She’s busy. She’s sleeping. She’s too tired. She’s not feeling too well.

If you're not feeling well, he should be in there to heal you. Give you comfort when you're at your weakest and motivation to get better. So he can keep an eye on you and make sure you’re safe. If you’re tired, let him in so he can wrap his arms around you. His chest is sure to be a better pillow for you than any other one you would be laying on. He would be warm, chest moving with just the perfect amount of rise and fall to lull you into a restful sleep. Your beauty sleep - not that you need it. And if you’re busy . . . what’s the harm in him just being around you? He won’t bother you, but any time just existing in the same space as you is like a dream come true.

He tries to be nice, tries to be a good person - these are his father’s friends, allies of the Omatikaya - and he’s never been one to act impulsively. But they are keeping you from him. You are his. His mate.

By the looks on their faces, they know how lucky they are that they got away with only some vicious snarls and a pushed over lab desk. Keeping away someone’s mate should be punishable by death.

At least, that’s how Neteyam feels right about now.

He doesn’t like being angry, hates the disgusting feeling that he feels clawing relentlessly at his chest. But he’s frustrated and heartbroken at your self inflicted absence and the warriors he’s training are his unfortunate victims. He pushes them hard, way harder than he probably should. Two of them have already had to go see the Tsahìk for their injuries and most of them look just about ready to drop from exertion. The anger he lets out on them doesn’t seem to quell any of the feelings still boiling inside him.

But then he sees you and it’s like time stops. The anger and frustration flee his body in a rush of relief. You’re here.

You’re hiding behind a tree just along the edge of the clearing. Why are you hiding? Maybe you’re trying to surprise him, stay out of sight until he’s done training so as to not distract him with your beauty. You would have. You’ve told him plenty of times that he has a staring problem. But he can’t help it. You’re just so breathtaking that he can’t help but want to stare at you all the time. You’re what he imagines Eywa incarnate to look like - a beauty so alluring and otherworldly that he just can’t bear to tear his eyes away.

The training session is just about done. He releases a majority of the warriors for the day and there’s only a few stragglers that need a few minutes of one-on-one training before he can send them on their way too. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying to them, letting muscle memory and repetition help him drag these last few minutes along as quickly as possible before he’s able to run over to you. He’s already decided that he’s going to take you out tonight. A date night, just like his father and mother have. It’s a time where you both can get away from the hustle and bustle of village and lab life and just be with each other. You clearly need it and he’s so desperate to spend time with you that he’s just about ready to kidnap you from your duties just so he can get a moment of peace just to stare at your gorgeous, unmasked face more.

Maybe do some other stuff too. Hopefully.

His heart hasn’t been the only needy thing of his without you.

The last warrior he’s with is really pushing his luck. How hard is it to switch a knife from a bladed upward position to a downward facing position with just one hand? It’s a simple wrist movement to perfect a move that might save your life one day and this skxawng keeps. dropping. the. knife. Neteyam’s seemingly endless patience is gone. He dismisses the warrior, words much too harsh to be considered professional but he doesn’t care. His mate is waiting for him and he doesn’t want to waste any more time.

He turns back to head to where you are, a giddy smile pulling at his lips, mood immediately flipping at the thought of finally seeing you, talking to you, holding you.

Except when he does it’s like he’s being doused with freezing water.

Another one of his warrior trainees, Oäpon, is standing in front of you and Neteyam can see how he’s purposefully bulging his muscles a little more to make them seem bigger - an action male Na’vi do when trying to attract a mate. Neteyam wants to rip those muscles out of his worthless body. He should be disgusted with himself with how fast his hand twitches towards the knife on his hip, ready to give no thoughts and just act on his emotions. He’s not impulsive, he’s not. But for once in his life he feels like he might actually kill one of his own clan members.

Would the Great Mother desert him if he did?

But you catch his attention again, the movement of your small step closer to the other man dragging his furious gaze back to you. Your gorgeous eyes aren’t on Neteyam like they should be, but instead on Oäpon in return. You’re smiling at him, grinning so wide that surely it's fake because you’ve never smiled at him like that before. Oäpon lifts his hand and there’s a deep purple flower between his fingers. The flower finds its way behind your ear and all Neteyam sees is red.

He’s across the clearing in a second, roaring snarls ripping from his chest as he tears the flower from behind your ear. He can hear Oäpon start to talk, to question what the fuck he’s doing, but the other man’s words are cut off with a pained gasp as he’s kicked to the ground and then he’s shock silent, fear written all over his face as he stares in horror at his kuru and the knife held in Neteyam’s inescapable grip.

“Don’t! Please, don’t,” Oäpon begs, voice shaking as he struggles to force the words out. “Great Mother, help! Please, don’t!”

“Neteyam, stop!” You yell, tiny fists beating at Netayam’s back, but he barely even feels them.

“She is mine!” Neteyam growls. “Mine. My mate. You do not touch her!”

“I didn’t know,” Oäpon whimpers. “I didn’t know. Please! I swear!”

He wants to do it, wants to slice through the braid so badly. He doesn’t deserve to have it. Kurus are sacred, the ability to connect to Eywa and her creatures is sacred. Attempting to defile the bond between a mated pair is nearly unheard of. Your screams for him to stop are just making the desire worse. You’re protecting him?! Protecting the thing that was trying to . . . no. No, no, no. He deserves to have it cut off, deserves to die.

Oäpon should kiss his feet in thanks for the mercy Neteyam shows by releasing him.

“I don’t ever want to see you near her again,” Neteyam shouts. Oäpon doesn’t respond, too busy scrambling away and darting across the clearing, but Neteyam knows he’s heard him.

“You’re a monster!” You scream, another fist coming down to hit at his back. “How could you do that to him?”

Your hits don’t stop and even through his rage he’s trying to be gentle with you. He catches your flying fists in one of his hands, holding them tight as he crouches in front of you trying to get on your level.

“Ma yawne, did he hurt you?”

Your eyes are wide as you stare at him in disbelief. “Did he hurt me? Are you kidding me?"

Neteyam’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“You fucking–” You screech, Neteyam’s ears pinning against his skull from the high pitched, angry sound. “You–you–I–ARGH!”

You're so frustrated, so upset you can’t even speak properly. Maybe you are hurt - Neteyam’s eyes scan your body for injury, eyes lingering on the area around your ear where the flower had been. The flower now lays forgotten at your feet, crushed and ruined from his angry grip, and Neteyam can’t find any source of injury that might be causing your upset.

“You don’t have to worry,” Neteyam says, cupping your cheek with his free hand. “He won’t bother you anymore, I swear it.”

You jerk away from his touch. “What is wrong with you?”

“I don’t understand what you mean. Nothing is wrong?”

“No,” You shake your head, wrists still trying to twist out of his grip. “No, there’s something wrong with you. Something is seriously wrong with you,”

“You are upset, tìyawn. Tell me what I can–”

“Don’t call me that!” You scream, nose scrunching with the effort. “Stop calling me that!”

“Oh,” Neteyam’s swishing tail droops in disappointment. “I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t know you didn’t like the name. I only meant to use it to show my love for you as my mate but I can–”

“We aren’t mates, Neteyam!” The words stab like a knife through his heart and his hand loosens around your wrists in shock enough for you to pull them out of his grasp. “We fucked once. A hookup, Neteyam. Sex, that’s it.”

“No,” He whispers.

Why are you saying this? How could you say this? He was there! He remembers that night more clearly than any other day of his life. You love him. He feels it, feels it with every fiber of his being. You let him into your body, wrapped him tight inside you like a promise that you would never let him go - like he would never have to be alone ever again. You caressed his bullet scar, and he remembers the feel of your gentle fingers silently mourning for it and for all he’s had to suffer. He remembers thinking that being there with you in that moment was worth every other hardship he has to endure. He can take on anything with you at his side.

“No,” He says again, disbelief coloring his tone. “How can you say that? We are mates! You’re mine!”

“No, we aren’t,”

“We are! I love you, y/n! Oel ngati kam–”

“We are not mated, Neteyam! We fucked. Mindless, hot, means-to-an-end-to-get-off sex. That’s it! Get that through your thick skull,”

He’s watching you as if in slow motion. You turn, stomping away from him as you start to head back into the forest and his brain feels like it’s going a million miles an hour. You’re mates. You are. You have to be - there’s no other way to explain the way he feels about you. The love and utter devotion he has for you. The need to be near you always - looking in your eyes, touching your skin, hearing your voice and the way you’ve always sounded so sweet saying his name. Eywa has blessed your union and he doesn't understand why you don’t feel the same way. Can’t you feel the same inescapable pull that he does? How your soul is tied to his in a way that surpasses even that of tsaheylu?

He reaches out to grab you before you get too far, fingers wrapping around your upper arm. Your own arm flies out around you and the sharp sound echoes through the forest and his sensitive ears before the pain registers on his cheek.

He’s never seen your eyes so wide before, crazed and panicked as you stare back into his equally shocked amber ones. Your hand is shaking, still raised in the follow through of the slap. The force of your smack is still heating up his cheek, and if he can feel it as much as he is now, he’s sure your hand is probably tingling.

Any other time he would check you for injuries. You’re so much more fragile than him - you could really hurt yourself if you’re not careful. But you just hit him. Your mate. The man that loves you more than anything. He’s frozen, body cold and not knowing how to react.

Don’t call me that.

Anger floods through him again. This was Oäpon’s fault. He tricked you, seduced you somehow - out from right under Neteyam’s nose. He should have killed him.

We are not mated.

You rip your arm out of his grip, wide eyes locked on him as he straightens his body, unfurling out of his crouched position as he rises to his full height. The shadow his body creates over you sends something primal through him. The darkened image of him completely overtaking your tiny figure makes him hungry. Possessive.

Just sex, Neteyam. That’s it.

He won’t let that worthless skxawng corrupt you anymore. You’re the love of his life, his tanhì. You’re just confused. You’re not thinking clearly.

You don’t mean it.

He feels like if he concentrates hard enough, he can hear the sound of your heart racing. Or maybe it's his own, the frantic thump thump thump thump thump of his heart pumping rushing blood into his ears and making him feel like there’s static in his brain.

When you turn to run, he’s not even shocked. His pupils dilate until there’s barely any color left, predatory gaze marked onto your back as you sprint into the dense Pandoran forest. Everything is so clear to him now. You’re testing him, wanting to see how loyal he is and how far he’ll go to keep you. You’re a beautiful woman, of course you’d have options. But you chose him for a reason, and now you want him to chase you - to prove himself a strong and worthy mate.

You want to play hard to get? Fine. He’ll play.

He’s a natural hunter, an apex predator - and you, tiny human, have just become his prey.

It might be fun to hunt you again - sometime in the future when this is all behind you. He’d be sure to make it as fair for you as possible: give you a head start, maybe allow you to rub some mud on your skin to hide your scent just to drag out the game a little longer, give you ample time and resources to find a good hiding spot where you can sit and try to listen with your not that great human hearing for any sign that he’s creeping up on your position. He’d wrap his arms around your waist when he inevitably finds you, smug grin tugging at his lips when your giggled shrieks pierce his eardrums as he pulls you from your oh so clever hiding spot. And then, he’d claim his prize, tearing your clothes from your body right there wherever he found you and fucking you until your giggly shrieking turns into blissful moaning.

This isn’t fun. It’s not a game. And your headstart is dwindling rapidly. You’re racing through the forest, running as fast as your feet will carry you. He can hear your heavy breaths, the sound of the ground crunching under your clumsy feet. He can smell you, the scent you’re leaving behind in your rush is a direct trail back to you for him to follow.

He doesn’t need it. He never lost sight of you.

One of his strides equal close to four of yours, and he covers ground quickly as he closes in on you. He catches you only a little further into the forest than where the chase started and you scream as he tackles you to the ground, the force of his momentum completely knocking you both off your feet. He doesn’t let you touch the ground on the fall, twisting his body enough to take the brunt of the impact. The action still leaves you breathless, dazed for a moment before seeming to come back to yourself and struggling to get off from on top of him.

His hold around your waist is secure and he uses the anchor he has around your waist to throw you on to the ground beside him before climbing on top of you and pinning both of your hands above your head with one of his.

“Get off me!” You scream, body struggling underneath him, hands pulling in his unrelenting grip as you try to get free, but you can barely move under his weight. “Get off me, Neteyam! Get off, get off, get o–”

His free hand latches around your throat, your words dying on your tongue as his fingers dig into the sides of your neck.

“Quiet!” He hisses, baring his fangs. “Be quiet!”

The aggressive display makes a small whimper rip from your throat and he can feel the vibrations tickle under his palm. You’re not quiet though, you never stay quiet - ever the talker that you are. You’d talk his ear off if you could. The only time you’ve ever stayed quiet is when you avoided him, and he refuses to let that happen again.

“Neteyam, please,” You whisper, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re scaring me. Let’s just relax and talk about thi–”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” He growls. “You’ve said enough already, don’t you think?”

He releases your hands, grip on your throat loosening and moving down slightly until it's just a singular hand pressed against your chest to keep you pinned. Your hands immediately latch onto the large hand, one of your own clutching the back while the other curls around one of his long fingers. He feels how you pull at it, trying to get it off of you - and he knows how much harder you could be trying right now if you wanted to.

He lowers his face to yours, inches away so that his breath fans across your skin as he speaks. “You like to talk, but you don’t like words. You’ve made that clear. My words mean nothing to you.” He can feel how your quick breathing puffs against his face too, the warm air caressing his cheeks. “You need actions - a visual representation of my devotion to you. I see that now.”

In a flash, his hands are balling into her t-shirt, pulling roughly in either direction and the thin material gives easily under the pressure. You gasp as he rips your shirt down the middle, the torn fabric falling on either side of your body as he does the same with your bra with a quick snap of his wrist.

“What are you doing?!” You shout, but you can’t fool him now. He’s grown tired of your games and your body can’t lie to him.

“Don’t worry, yawne. I’ll give you what you need,”

The sound of ripping material echoes through the otherwise peaceful forest. Your shorts require just a bit more force to tear, but it’s barely a percentage of his full strength so the fabric comes apart at the seams easily leaving the ruined bottoms still around your waist and thighs, but a large opening right at your center. A rumble of satisfaction builds in his chest when he smells you, the first scent of your arousal permeating the air around you. You gasp when he rips your panties too, leaving nothing left of the light blue material but the thin elastic around your limbs and hips.

His mouth waters at the sight of your pretty pussy, bare and tempting and already getting so wet for him.

“Fuck,” You whimper, arms splayed out beside you, fingers gripping into the moss covered ground.

“You like it when I’m rough, huh?” Neteyam teases. “When I’m demanding and just take what I want from you?”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the way he can see your pussy’s responding clench is damning to your denial.

“I remember now,” Neteyam’s hand slides down your thigh and caresses your calf, long fingers wrapping around your leg as he presses a nipping kiss to your ankle just above your sock. “You loved how I shoved you down on the ground that night. It made you gush in your pretty little tewng, didn’t it?”

“S-shut up,”

“Hm, my muntxate likes being handled roughly, doesn’t she?”

Your response is a shocked squeal when he snatches your hips, hauling you up off the forest floor, the quick snapping of moss ripping from the ground as you’re abruptly pulled upwards. Your entire world is turned upside down as Neteyam dangles you like prey in front of him. He throws your legs over his shoulders and wraps a secure arm around your stomach to hold your lower back to his chest. The other hand holds onto your thigh to make sure to keep you spread before him as if you had any chance to wiggle away.

A choked sob rips from your throat as your hands reach for the ground, blood rushing to your head as your fingers stretch as far as they can trying to get leverage and hold yourself up. Your fingertips only just barely graze the soft green.

Neteyam groans as he enjoys the sight right in front of his face. You’re spread open for him, pussy perfectly framed by the destroyed fabric - dripping and glistening in want against the dimming sunlight despite yourself. He can see how you subconsciously contract and clench it, hole practically begging him to fill it with his tongue. He wants to bury his face in it, suffocate on your smell and taste until it’s all he can think about.

So he does.

He digs his face between your legs, tongue lapping at your folds like a man starved. He is. He didn’t get to do this your first time. It was too fast, too desperate. He couldn’t control himself with you. Everything about you calls to him like a siren, luring him in with your beauty and light. You dragged him down on top of you that night. You were already open, you told him - had fucked yourself with that fake cock he had found hidden in your drawers during an impromptu hangout in your bedroom at the lab. You still felt suffocatingly tight when he pushed in, but he had been grateful that he didn’t have to wait.

He had waited so long for the chance to be inside you that he felt like if he had waited another second without you he would have exploded.

Your back arches as he licks up your slit, moaning loudly as his textured tongue slides across your clit.

“Oh my god,” You gasp out, hands forgoing reaching for the ground and finding purchase on his thighs instead. “Neteyam, f-fuck,”

He hums in response, his tongue targeting the sensitive bundle of nerves, sliding and flicking relentlessly against the small bud as your moans and gasps get louder and louder. Your sounds are driving him crazy, the taste of you on his tongue setting every one of his nerves on fire. His cock is already hard, already working its way past his wet slit and tenting in his tewng. You taste so good, so perfect for him. He wonders what it feels like for you, how good it must feel for you to be writhing in his grip now, so vocal for him in your pleasure that your voice is already starting to sound a bit raspy from use. He bets his tongue feels better than any other man you’ve ever tried, the texture of it foreign and unique and unlike anything else you’ve ever had before.

It will be the same way for him too, he’s sure. He’s dreamed about it, fantasized and jerked off to the thought of your tongue, soft and silky, running up and down his cock. You’d torture him with it, be teasing and delicate in your licks, alternating between those featherlight, barely there teases against his lavender tip and firmer strokes down the base of his cock.

Your nails are digging into the meat of his thighs as he wraps his lips around your clit, panting breaths telling him yes, right there, Teyam, fuck, fuck, yes as your hips try to hump against his face. You’re right there, right on the edge, ready to fall over it with just a little bit more.

But he stops, reveling in your frustrated groan as he pulls his mouth away from your soaked core. His intense golden eyes meet yours when your head forces its way up, raspy voice whining a desperate ‘why’ as you feel your orgasm slipping away from you.

“Tell me you’re mine,” He demands. He needs to hear you say it.

“Teyam…”

He can’t bear to hear you deny him again. Can’t handle hearing you say the words that make him feel like his heart has been dunked in acid.

His lips latch onto your clit again, sucking harshly at the tiny bud and your words cut off with a gasp. He works you back up, your head falling back as he nips at your clit with his sharp teeth before licking down your slit to circle your entrance. You’re so tight, so so so tight around his tongue as he pushes it in. You clench around the wet muscle and then somehow clench even tighter when the hand gripping your thigh reaches over to rub firm circles on your clit.

“Teyam, oh god, Neteyam, please!” You beg, thighs squeezing his head as they try to force themselves closed. “I’m gonna cum. Please,”

You wail as he pulls his mouth away again, your hole clenching around nothing as your orgasm dissipates again.

“Say it,” He feels your whole body shiver as his words breathe hot air on your sensitive cunt. “You’re mine. Say it, y/n,”

You sob, frustration evident in every sound and twitch your body makes. You’re trying to lift your head again, looking up at him from your spot dangling below him like a puppet, and he wonders if all the blood rushing to your head from being upside down for so long is getting to you.

“Say it,” He repeats and then digs back in, the flat of his tongue roughly swiping over your clit before latching onto it again.

Your legs kick as he works you up again, overstimulated pussy throbbing as he plays you like an instrument he’s known for years. His cock is throbbing too, desperate to be released from the confines of his tewng and shown some attention. He wants so badly to push inside your soaking hole and feel how it’ll grip his cock within its slick walls.

“Neteyam, please!” You cry, and he knows you’re so close, right there again as he hurdles you back towards that just out of reach edge. He doesn’t stop the suction of his mouth. You’ll say it, he knows you will. You’ll say it because if you don’t, you won’t get to cum. He’ll keep you here, upside down in his unrelenting hold until you pass out from exhaustion before he’s going to let you go without saying it.

You’re a stubborn brat. He can see as he looks down your hanging body that you’re biting your lip. You want to say it - you’re just being stubborn. He sucks harder on the swollen bud, free hand smacking your hip and your asscheek just hard enough to make you cry and gush further on his tongue, the remaining remnants of your clothes doing very little to muffle the sting.

“Okay!” You yell. “Okay, okay, Neteyam! I’ll say it! I’m yours! Please, please let me cum!”

The words make Neteyam’s chest tighten. Finally. Finally, you’ve admitted it, and the excitement from the admission urges him to lick you faster. He’s sloppy and greedy as he eats you out, overeager and face wet to the point of dripping as he devours you for all you have. You cum on his tongue with a choked scream, hands reaching up to grab desperately at his arm encircling your waist, nails digging into the cerulean flesh as your back arches and your thighs clench tightly around his head.

He swallows everything you offer him, lapping up your juices like his favorite most treasured treat, before placing a protective hand on your back to steady you as he lowers you back down to safety.

“Mawey, yawne,” Neteyam coos, gently brushing away a few rogue pieces of moss stuck to your sweaty forehead. You’re still panting, exhaustion creeping over you as your eyes glaze over and threaten to close. The oxygen tube had unhooked from around your ear at some point during your experience upside down. Neteyam guides it back around your ear with careful fingers. “You’ve been such a good girl for me. Keep being a good girl while I fuck you, yes?”

Your eyes widen at the mention of fucking, shaking your head slightly even as the full bodied shivers of the orgasm’s aftershocks continue to wrack your body. “N-no, Teyam. C-can’t take i-it.”

Neteyam smiles, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss against your lips. The feel of your lips on his is almost enough to make him cum. He’s so worked up already, so high off the taste of your cunt on his tongue that all it takes is the loving press of your lips on his and he’s a second away from exploding in his tewng and ruining the fun.

“Yes, you can,” He says against your lips, his sharp teeth digging into your plush bottom lip just to hear you whine.

Last time he fucked you, he took you from the front. It was love making, a bonding of two souls coming together as one - a spiritual experience filled with panting breaths, eye contact, and the passionate coupling that comes with mating with the one your heart belongs to.

You don’t deserve that right now, not with the way you’ve hurt him - made him work for the love that should have been given freely. The things you said can’t just be forgotten. You need him to prove his worthiness to you? Prove his loyalty? Then fine, he’ll do that by giving you exactly what you deserve.

You yelp when he flips you over on your stomach, large hands grabbing your hips and hauling them up so your ass is in the air and on display for him. The remaining fabric of your shorts still cover nearly half of your ass, but the little coverage does nothing to diminish the amazing view. You try to push yourself up with your arms, but Neteyam is quick to shove you back down with a hand on the back of your neck.

“No, no, tìyawn,” He says, running a large hand over your exposed ass, his fingers teasing along the creamy slit of your pussy. “You said you’re mine, so let me see what’s mine.”

His teasing fingers find your hole and his teeth dig into his lower lip when he sees your thigh start trembling as he circles your entrance with the pad of his finger. You like it rough, he has to remind himself. You’re a human, so delicate compared to him that he naturally wants to be gentle with you. But that got him nowhere, it got him ignored. You respond to roughness, passion, him taking charge - so he doesn’t give you any warning before he’s plunging two long fingers inside you all the way to the knuckle.

You scream, slick walls squeezing around his fingers, your own hands once again ripping at the moss below you. The scream is agonized, oversensitive and pained from your earlier edging and orgasm. Your thighs are shaking, desperate sobs erupting from your throat. But the way you’re pushing back against him, rocking back against his invading fingers trying to get them deeper inside you tell him everything he needs to know.

“Look at you,” He coos. His fingers start up a steady rhythm, thrusting inside you with purpose as he stretches you open. “Such a little whore for me, aren’t you?”

Your moans are muffled against the ground, cheek pressed firmly against the moss from his hand pinning you down by his neck. You ignore his question, too lost in trying to push back against his hand and make him fuck you faster - so he rips his fingers from your gripping cunt, drops of your wetness flying from the force of his retreat, and his large hand lands harshly on your backside.

You howl at the smack, the sound of the slap against direct skin this time cracks through the forest like a gunshot.

“I asked if you’re my whore,” Neteyam repeats. It’s not as romantic as ‘I’m yours’, but still just as important.

“Yes, Teyam,” You whine. “I’m your whore.”

“Just for me, right? Only my whore,” Silence again, but your hips are still wiggling and searching for his fingers, so he rewards your silence with another sharp smack. “Say it, yawne,”

“Fuck!” You cry, ass feeling like it's on fire even as more of your slick drips down your thighs. “Yes, yes! Only for you, Teyam. Only for you,”

“Good girl,” Neteyam purrs, and you’re rewarded this time with his fingers sliding back inside your aching pussy.

He stretches you out on those two fingers, alternating between scissoring them inside you and curling them to rub at that special spongy spot that makes you squeal and see stars. He contemplates adding a third, but decides that he wants to finish stretching you out on his cock instead.

This time when you cum, it's less of a scream and more of a deep guttural groan that comes from deep inside you. It’s wetter than he expects it to be when you squeeze around his fingers, and the sight of your slick dripping from your mound onto the forest floor beneath you makes him feel absolutely feral.

He lets go of the back of your neck and pulls his fingers from your abused cunt. The wet fingers work frantically at the knots on his tewng and he feels like he can’t get the fucking thing off fast enough. When the knots come undone and the tan material flutters to the ground, he breathes a sigh of relief, thick needy cock springing from its confines to slap against his belly.

When he focuses back on you, your exhausted body is already trying to curl in a ball, eyes threatening to close as sleep calls to you. No, Neteyam thinks. He’s not done with you yet.

He flips you back on your stomach, pulling your hips back up high so they’re flush with his. You both groan as he rubs his hard cock between your folds, the tip nudging at your swollen clit. Fuck, you feel so good, pussy feeling like silk against his aching length. His eyes are locked onto where he’s lining his head with your entrance, watching in awe as he nudges himself forward, your greedy hole welcoming him in like you’ve been doing this forever. He can’t control his sounds, grunts and moans of pleasure echoing loudly through the trees as he sinks himself inside your slick walls. You’re so tight, even with the amount he’s stretched you out already you’re still so tight. But you stretch around him like you were made for him, made to take his cock into your depths - like your insides already know the exact shape of him and welcome him back into their warm embrace.

You whimper as he fills you up, back arching and hands clawing at the ground like you’re both trying to get away from him and closer to him at the same time.

“I fucked you so good, didn’t I?” He gunts, pulling halfway out of your gripping pussy before slamming back in, relishing in the tortured moan it pulls from you. “That night by the fire. Made you cum so many times, over and over again until you were so cock drunk you couldn’t speak.”

He pulls out again, just a little further this time before thrusting back in. He does it again, and again, the rhythm hard and unforgiving and he pulls your hips closer to his. In the back of his mind he fears that he’s being too mean, too rough, but your gasping hiccups and blissed out sighs contain any worry. This is as much for him as it is for you anyway. He’s allowed to be selfish.

“You’re always so talkative,” He pants. “Where’s that pretty voice now, huh? You were so talkative that night, just endless pleas of my name falling from your gorgeous lips. Like music to my ears. I wanna hear it again. Please, yawne?”

“Mmh, please,” You whine. “Please, Teyam,”

“Please what?”

“Faster,” You beg. “Fuck me faster,”

Who is he to deny such a sweet and pretty thing?

He leans forward, body curling over yours to cover you completely, one of his hands grabbing yours and linking your fingers together as he presses them both against the ground. His other hand is still on your hip, using it as leverage as he fucks your puffy pussy faster, the tip of his cock barreling against your cervix with each snap of his hips.

He can feel the knot on the base of his cock swelling, the large ball of tissue nudging at your entrance with each thrust. The instinct driven part of him urges him to push harder against you, to force the knot against your tight hole to see if it will fit.

He didn’t knot you that night, not wanting to risk hurting you or getting you pregnant so fast with such a new relationship. He came inside you with his fist wrapped tightly around his knot instead. Na’vi bonds are forever. Human bonds . . . now he’s not so sure. He’s not willing to risk it anymore. He’s going to bond with you in every way he knows how.

When he feels his orgasm creep up his spine, he lets instinct take over. His grip on your hip tightens, thrusts halting as he presses the enlarged ball against your soaked entrance.

You gasp, whimpering as his knot stretches you more. “Oh god, wait, wait,”

But it's too late. With another determined shove, the knot pops inside you and he has you trapped, locked on his cock until time decides to free you.

“Neteyam, i-it’s too b-big,” You whine, shock evident in your voice. “Hmh, so full,”

Neteyam plants soothing kisses on the back of your head and neck, the hand on your hip smoothing around your belly to caress the large bulge of the outline of his cock in your stomach. “I know, tìyawn. I know. It’s so much, but you’re doing so well. Just a little more for me, okay?”

He can’t thrust now, can't even so much as pull out an inch now that he’s locked inside you. So, he makes you do the work. He keeps one hand on the bulge in your tummy, the other hand coming down to rub relentlessly at your throbbing clit. The stimulation makes you keen, pussy clenching and tightening around him and working his aching length with your wet walls.

His fingers on your clit are your undoing. He barely hears any noise from you as your orgasm hits, but this time he’s able to see the side of your face as you come undone. Your eyes roll back into your head, mouth opening in a silent scream, but it's like all the breath has been stolen from your lungs. Your body tenses, muscles shaking through the overwhelming pleasure, and he feels as much as he hears how you gush and squirt all over his teasing digits and the ground below you.

He moans at the sight, the feel of your pussy clenching around his length and the wetness from your orgasm on his fingers and cock makes him tip over the edge. His orgasm crashes through him, tearing him apart as he spills himself inside you. His cum paints your walls, and his knot makes sure to keep every single drop of it inside you.

Neteyam collapses next to you, shaking as the aftershocks roll through him, and pulls your limp body safely against his. It will be at least an hour before the knot’s swelling goes down enough before he’s able to slip out. You let out a moan of pain as the knot pulls at your entrance as he adjusts you, but he sushes you.

“Relax, ma yawne. I’ll take care of you.” He coos. “Oel ngati kameie,”

You don’t say it back. You don’t even hear him, already dead to the world as your exhaustion finally catches up with you.

It’s okay. He knows in his heart that one day soon, you’ll say it back.

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @minnory @localjasmine @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @vampirefilmlover @quicktosimp (cause you said you liked yanderes)

**Comment here to be added to my taglist!

#𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✎#neteyam smut #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam x human reader smut #tw: non con #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent #tw: yandere

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backwzzds · 9 months

Text

ೃ⁀➷ call her daddy, ichigo kurosaki (nsfw)

inexperienced ichigo has a time with his slutty girlfriend.

thinking about giving flustered!ichigo head like. you both were sophomores in college but known each other since elementary. first grade was the year ichigo learned he had a crush on you, and for the past twelve years, it’s been hard for him to keep quiet about it.

the thing was, you were polar opposite to him. ichigo was such a…boy. he blushed fire red at the sight of any female skin showing, he screamed at any touch of you holding his hand, and he acted a fool the moment he saw you naked. you two have only been dating for a while, the poor boy finally manning up and asking you out denior year of high school.

you on the other hand, you were a girl’s girl. all you ever wore were multiple shades of pink and purple, lip gloss, always had your hair and nails done, and you were expressive in how you felt in every moment. you were the fire to ichigo’s already hot personality, and for some reason you two were like peas in a love pod.

almost three years of dating, ichigo still was nervous around you. and you couldn’t help but admit how much you loved watching him get flustered at the sight of you naked and on your knees.

“‘m i making you feel good daddy?” your voice is sweet as sultry as you lick up the young boy’s blush pink cock.

ichigo can’t even process anything going on in his head at the moment. he still didn’t know how to react whenever you called him daddy. in fact, he was sure you were the dominant one in the relationship and deserved to call you mommy (he’d actually been wanting to call you that for the past 6 months but was terrified of how you’d react).

sex was such an easy conversation for you to have. of course, you were more experienced than he was, having taken his virginity and all. you could talk about your previous sex session the night before over some pancakes and waffles for breakfast like it was the sunday news from the day before. you couldn’t help but explain to him many times why you called him that intimate name.

“me calling you daddy has nothing to do with your dominance, ichi,” you laughed with a kiss of your teeth, “i call you daddy because it’s a security thing for me. sure you’re not big and macho right now, but you make me feel safe and secure. and your dick is big so why would i not call you daddy? ichigo, boy please!”

you loved teasing your man. something about seeing the red head all flustered in your hands was all you needed to feel something between your own legs. nights like this by kehlani is playing on your speaker lowly as you take your time on ichigo. the cherry red gloss plastered on your lips disappeared long time ago and is smeared all over ichigo’s rock hard length as you continue sucking him dry.

ichigo is sat manspreading on your bed, gripping onto your pink duvet for dear life. your sanrio duck nails look so pretty against his dick leaking pure cum.

“fuck, baby,” the strawberry blonde boy breathes out. he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to last. ichigo hated when he cums fast, it makes him feel so adjuvant compared to you. he hated how you did most of the work sometimes. all he wanted was for you to feel good. but little did he know, you pleasuring him was enough to pleasure yourself.

you snake one hand down between your legs and rub your clothed clit through the extremely thin fabric of your lace panties. ichigo’s large hand is snaked across your back and rubbing at the fat of your ass in comfort as you suck on the slit of his tip, driving him over the edge.

“mhm, you like that baby?” ichigo can’t help but nod as you release up off him and lick your full lips. still pumping his oozing length up and down, you reach up to kiss him, all while working his lower half.

ichigo is a moaning mess against you as his lips sloppily engulf your own. “s-shit,” he whimpers. “oh fuck, please baby. ‘m boutta cum.”

“yeah?” you tease with a fresh smirk. “you wanna cum for me? mommy’s got you, baby.” you could see ichigo’s usually honey brown eyes completely widen at the new nickname for yourself. talk about fantasies coming alive.

with screwed eyes shut, ichigo is bucking his hip into your grip. wrestling with pleasure and reality as he fights off his incoming orgasm. sensing his retaliation, you speed up the pace of your hands.

“don’t you fucking hold back on me, ichigo,” you glare at him, jerking his reddening tip faster. you run your manicured fingers across the slit of his tip and give him a stern look, demanding his much deserved orgasm. “you fucking cum right now. cum right now, ichi.” you knew how ichigo got when he didn’t believe in himself, even when it came to sex.

the poor boy is breathing hard and intensely as he grabs onto your free hand and shoves his head in the crook of your neck. finally, he feels his orgasm releasing against your half naked body. “there you go baby,” your voice is softening as the creamy base spurting all over the place in a big mess from his chest to your nipples. “watch me, daddy.”

ichigo fights one eye open to look down at you. there, you hold your tongue out wide as you finish jerking him off, allowing the last of his warm cum to coat your mouth. you use that as lubricant to suck him off just one more time, deciding to overstimulate him a bit.

this riund of head is ten times more messy. with a mix of your saliva and ichigo’s cum practically oozing out your mouth, the only audio heard in your room is the nasty gargling sounds of you gagging on his fat cock, deepthroting the poor thing till you felt his angry head prodding at the back of your throat.

“oh, shit!”

this sends ichigo overboard as he grips onto the duvet beside him and completely bucks up into you, reaching deeper into your throat. he helps you hold your braids out the way as you stay against him for a few seconds, completely blocking your airways as you dared yourself to deepthroat him for as long as you could.

“i’m gonna cum again—fuck!” ichigo screams as he mindlessly pushes your head back down further against him. you could see the reluctance he had in his actions once he realized exactly what he’d done and was about to pull you back up, but you grab his hand and place it back on your head, forcing him to push you back down.

“i got you daddy, make a mess of me, papa.” your voice is sweet and seductive as you kiss all along his tip. you place the mushroom head of his cock back in your mouth and slowly begin cleaning up your own mess. once you were done, you came back up and proudly kissed him, allowing him to suck all his cum off the base of your tongue.

it was so easy to get him nasty like this.

#lora’s fics! ೄྀ࿐#ichigo x black!reader #ichigo x black reader #ichigo kurosaki smut #ichigo kurosaki x black reader #ichigo kurosaki x reader #ichigo kurosaki #ichigo smut #kurosaki ichigo #bleach x female reader #bleach x black reader #bleach x reader #bleach smut #bleach imagines #bleach headcanons

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tatoda · 9 months

Text

Mine || conrad fisher x fem!reader

!!MINORS DNI!!

masterlist

request

summary: attending the same college as your best friend has its highs and lows, but conrad sees you flirting with another dude he finally does something about his feelings

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

warning: slight angst, male receive, jealous conrad CHARACTERS ARE 18

wc: 1.1k

im a little rusty on my smut writing I apologize I'm trying to get back into it still. edited but I may have missed stuff

You and conrad grew up together as the oldest siblings, you to your brother and sister, steven and belly, and conrad to his brother jeremiah. Your birthdays was just a day apart from conrad’s. To say that your mothers were so excited to have babies around the same time was an understatement. They were best friends and it was their dream to have kids at the same time. Also as mothers, they knew you were both meant for each other. To be the first two little kids to run around the beach house, to attending your dream college together.

At the end of the summer before college started in the fall is when conrad broke your heart. It was the 4th of july and Jeremiah dragged everyone out of the house to go to nicole’s party. You hung out with Belly most of the night not trusting the drunk guys around her. With your mind occupied with her most of the night, you never got to talk to conrad. You wanted to watch the fireworks with him and not come to this lame party, you wanted to kiss him and tell him how you felt about him after all these years. Belly took off with nicole letting you have your fun. Who knew that fun could be ruined in 2.5 seconds? You walked into the living room looking for the brown-haired boy only spotting him with a girl on his lap and her eating his face out with him doing the same thing.

You ended up leaving the party and cousins that night. Telling your mom that you needed to finish a ton of college stuff before moving in at the end of the month. She didn’t push to ask you what happened and let you leave knowing you would call if it was anything serious. When everyone arrived back home that night conrad looked for you. He wanted to talk to you about your midnight plans to go watch the fireworks, but everywhere he looked you were gone. He looked in your bedroom seeing the nicely made bed and your bags gone. He sat on the edge of the mattress looking around softly.

“she left.” laurel walked into the room slowly

“where did she go? everything was fine before the party.” he stood up walking around your room and to the picture of you and him as babies. laurel walked behind him placing her hands on each side of his arms

“two peas in a pod, you two are inseparable.” laurel paused “she went home to finish college stuff.”

“and she didn’t ask me to go with her?” he brought a hand to rub over his face and sighed in defeat.

You didn’t talk to conrad the rest of the summer. He texted you, but you decided you better not get your heart broken again.

It was a few weeks into the school year. Your roommate dragged you out to another party that you didn’t want to attend, only because conrad would be there and almost every time he didn’t see you but you saw him. And you saw the girls he would leave with. And it just broke your heart more. So here you were trying to distract yourself with Josh— a boy from your math class— as he talked to you about his frat. You acted as if you cared only trying to hook up with him in the end.

“yeah my dad wanted me to follow him in his footsteps so he decided to pay for my school year.” he bragged taking a sip of his drink

“wow.” you acted interested

“if you want, one day i can take you for a ride on my boat back home?” he leaned towards you as if it was a secret

“i’d love that, yeah.” you put a hand on his arm rubbing it a little before a shadow crept over the both of you, it was conrad.

“sorry to bother, i need to talk to her,” he grumbled in josh’s face

“can it wait? i’m talking to her?” he tried to protest and you didn’t look at conrad, it would only make you fall and say you’re sorry for everything

“no it can’t.” he grabbed your hand off the dudes arm and walked you to an empty room before shutting the door “what the hell are you thinking!” he moved around you and away from the door

“i don’t know.” you shrugged slowly lifting your gaze to him, he was wearing a white shirt, plaid pullover, and jeans, you had never seen the boys other than in the summer and it was nice to see conrad dressed in jeans

“he was practically fucking you with his eyes!” he stood in front of you now

“grow up conrad, we’re in college now.” you scoffed. putting your drink down on a nearby dresser

“yeah, and it’s my job you don’t get an std from a frat boy like him.”

“oh and you’re any different?” it slipped out of your mouth

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he was taken back by your comment

“i’ve seen the girls you take back to your dorm. how do you know they aren’t carrying anything harmful when you stick your dick inside of them!”

“y/n what the fuck are you talking about?” his eyebrows furrowed

“the girls.”

“what girls! not one has stepped into my dorm other than our damn family when we moved in!”

“b-but you take girls home.” you tried to make yourself believe it

“i walk them back to their dorm. they are a drunk mess and my mom raised me that way, you should know.” his voice softly said

“i-“

“i’ve only had my eyes set on you since we were kids.” he blurted

“w-what?”

“yeah but i wanted to give you space to figure out your college life, but not get dicked down by a frat boy at one party.” he smiled to himself

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m sorry i didn’t see it earlier.”

“i tried for years, for you to see how i feel.”

“i felt the same way, i was going to tell you at cousin’s, but then i saw you with this girl at nicole’s party and she was all over you so i just left.”

“the party? is that why you left cousins early?” you nodded looking back down at the floor

“i was heartbroken con. you were making out with her what was i supposed to feel?”

“i don’t know you should have talked to me.”

“i talked to jere and he said that it wasn’t worth it, so i just left to get a head start to move in.”

“that’s why you were so distant when college started? we were so excited to be going to the same place, my mom was excited!”

“i felt heartbroken and i didn’t know what to do you’re the only boy i’ve ever loved, i didn’t know how to work around it!”

“i kissed the girl at nicole’s party because jeremiah told me you went on a date,” he whispered

“i-i hung out with a dude at the arcade for 10 minutes trying to help in figuring out a game. jeremiah was there!” you tan your fingers through your hair

“well, how was i supposed to know!”

“it seems like jere is just against us.” conrad laughed softly

“he’s always had something for you, you know.” you nodded knowing how the other fisher boy liked you, but you only had eyes for conrad

“he doesn’t matter. i’ve only seen him as a friend.” conrad let out a soft breath

“come here.” he gestured at you and you walked towards him as he opened his arms for you. the comfort of his arms secured you leaned against his chest hearing the raging of his heartbeat

“your heart is going crazy.” you twisted your head to look up at him with your chin on his chest and conrad looking down at you

“because of you.” he brought a hand to the side of your face and leaned in to kiss you, for the first time. conrad fisher was kissing you, it felt like a dream

He held your face so softy. He didn’t wanna break you, not again. His arms tightened around you pulling him closer to you. The kiss became deeper and stronger than you have ever had before with anyone. That’s when you felt the effect you had on him, he was hard, from you. You didn’t know you could do that to anyone ever but it felt amazing and an accomplishment.

“sorry.” he smiled against your lips as you both slowly separated lips turning red

“don’t be.” bringing one of your hands to his hair moving a few pieces away from his eyes the other hand you had slowly descended towards his pants

“y/n” a warning tone came out of his mouth

“hm?” you looked at him innocence in your eyes as if your hand wasn’t messing with the button of his jeans before moving to the zipper

“no one’s ever-“ his breath hitched as your hand cupped his erection “no one ever touched me down there.” you looked at him confused

“you’ve had sex though?” he nodded

“that doesn’t mean foreplay was involved, they just skip to the sex.” you kissed his lips

“don’t worry, just sit down and relax.” you pushed him to sit on the bed

Dragging down his jeans he lifted your hips to help get the fabrics down to his calf’s. He looked scared and nervous. You were touching him, the girl he’s been in love with forever, finally seeing the effect she has on him. You slowly swiped to get some pre cum off of the head and conrad shuttered under your touch.

“like that?”

“fuck, you have no idea.”

You coated the sides of his dick before slowly moving up and down at the right movement. He looked down at you breathing hard and deadly to your touch. A loud clatter came from outside the room and his eyes turned to worry.

“y/n, i don’t think this is such a good place to do thi-“ you cut him off licking the side of his shaft shutting him up immediately and the sounds from outside passed “fuck” he brought a hand to your head holding it as you bobbed up and down on him “keep going.” you didn’t plan on stopping, you hollowed your cheeks taking him in deeper and his groans filled the room

The way you moved made him jealous of the guys who have seen this image before. You on your knees sucking him off like no tomorrow. But the thought disappeared as soon as it came because he realized that this will be his view for the rest of his life. You looked up at him making eye contact and he felt the warm build but he didn’t wanna release just yet.

“just a few more, yeah.” he started to take control by moving your head with his hips as they came up off of the bed making you gag “just-“ he moved faster feeling the edge start. he pumped all the way into your mouth and let his release into your mouth as he groaned into the air

“fuck.” you pulled off of him and swallows the salty taste “did you just-“ he couldn’t believe you were real

“is that bad?”

“no, no, god no.” he moved your hair from your face. “all i know is no man is ever touching you again, you’re mine.”

#the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher #tsitp #prime video #the summer i turned pretty season 2 #conrad fisher one shot #conrad fisher x fem!reader #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher imagine #tsitp conrad #conrad fisher fluff #conrad x reader #tsitp team conrad #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #team conrad #conrad fisher smut #college!conrad fisher

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holllandtrash · 10 months

Note

you know 6 to 1 yn said something about carlos’s mustache and lando threatened to grow his hair back out of playful jealousy

word count: 4.1k tags/warnings: some angst, jealousy, mentions of smut kind of part of the 6 to 1 series

carlossainz55

liked by ynleclerc, scuderiaferrari and 391,202 others

carlossainz55 off to Canada 🇨🇦 let's keep pushing

view all 1,542 comments

scuderiaferrari now that's a smoooth operator

spicysainzz its illegal for a man to look this good

ynleclerc god don't tell me you're growing out your facial hair now too

carlossainz55 you love it ynleclerc sure

“Oh so you like Carlos’ facial hair?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You didn't look up from the cutting board, already deciding that whatever Lando was on about wasn’t as important as making dinner.

“You like his facial hair,” Lando repeated, a statement this time.

It was impossible to not give him any attention when he shoved his phone in your face. You took a breath, asking yourself what you were getting yourself into as you dropped the knife on the counter and tuned in on his screen, more specifically, at the comment you had left on Carlos’ most recent picture.

“It’s a harmless comment,” you scoffed, knowing that your friendship with Carlos was nothing for him to worry about, yet he always seemed to be triggered by the most mundane things.

“But you like his facial hair.”

“Are those the only words you know how to say?”

You pushed the phone out of your face and turned properly to face him, only then seeing that he wasn’t taking this conversation as a joke the same way you were. His jaw had tightened, the lines in his forehead displayed his very prominent annoyance and you flipped a switch to react accordingly, hand going up to cup his cheek

“Lando,” you said, a slight shake of the head. “You’re being dramatic. I commented on my friend's photo. Who is also your friend. It’s nothing to get worked up over, okay?”

Lando and Carlos were still two peas in a pod. Their bond was unbreakable but since you started dating you could tell he was always slightly on edge whenever you and Carlos were alone together. And of course Lando trusted you, you’re the one person who held his heart he knew you wouldn’t do anything to damage it.

It was Carlos he didn’t trust.

He didn’t like that Carlos had never once talked to Lando about the kiss you had shared. It was this strange, unspoken thing, but when you tried to explain how weird it would be for Carlos to approach him and say ‘hey, I had feelings for your girlfriend and we kissed but don’t worry about’ it didn’t really click for Lando.

So he just held his breath and watched from a distance whenever you interacted with the Spanish driver and if he felt your conversations lingered a little too long for his liking, he’d find a way to pull you aside and remind you who exactly you were in the paddock for.

He had no control over what happened on Instagram, though. And it wasn’t like he was going to tell you to unfollow your brother's teammate, so he just ignored any bitter thoughts that came to mind if he saw your name show up in Carlos’ likes.

But that comment.

It was friendly, sure, but it was the fact that it was on the topic of facial hair that really stung. Lando knew how much you hated his facial hair when he tried to grow it out and the only reason he ended up shaving was because you made your dislike for it so abundantly clear.

So why the fuck did you not hate it on Carlos?

Carlos didn’t have as difficult of a time growing out the stubble like Lando did. And his already prominent moustache was just only going to get thicker and you didn’t hate it. It was clear by your comment, despite it being sarcastic, that you didn’t hate it.

And Lando hated that.

“You’re really bothered by this,” you said aloud when it sunk in that this wasn’t something Lando would get over after a good night's sleep.

“I am, yes.”

“And what's bothering you, exactly? The fact that I commented on his picture?” You asked, wanting to get to the root of the problem. “Or are you annoyed that I had a different reaction to his facial hair than I did with yours?”

Lando hesitated before finally muttering a quiet, “Both.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed on his chest, wanting not only a bit of space from his childish ways of thinking but also wanting to finish dinner. You picked up the knife and went back to mincing the pepper, not about to coddle Lando or assure him that he had nothing to worry about because this was a conversation you had had way too many times for your liking and if he didn’t know you loved him by now then that was his problem.

But Lando wasn’t about to move on as easy as you had, “I’m just saying-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” You cut him off, voice shaper than the knife in your hand. Each cut against the board echoed in the confined space and Lando could tell you were applying more pressure than needed, relying on your actions to show that you really didn’t want to have this conversation.

And Lando stayed quiet for the rest of the night. Not just about the picture, but in general. When you asked him to set the table, he did so without his usual childish complaints. The conversation between you during dinner was cold and distant but you didn’t want to press further, knowing that he’d get over this in his own way.

You thought things were fine when he crawled into bed shortly after you did because he curled his arm around your waist like normal, pulling you against his chest as his soft breath hit your neck. You whispered ‘goodnight to him, but his lack of response wasn’t something you thought too much about.

It wasn’t until you woke up did the trouble really begin.

You walked into the bathroom first thing in the morning, rubbing your eyes and the residue of mascara that didn’t come off after washing your face last night. After turning on the sink and letting the water run, you wiped a disposable cloth over your face and tossed it out immediately after. Naturally, the rest of your morning routine would have followed, had a perfectly good electric razor not have caught your eye at the top of the garbage can.

“Lando!” You basically screamed, knowing he was in the inbetween stages of awake and asleep when you had gotten out of bed. You heard the rustling of sheets and the patter of footsteps as you grabbed the razor out of the bin.

When you turned around, one hand resting on your hip you saw a very tired Lando standing in the hallway. Usually the sight of him bare chested and wearing nothing but boxers was enough to have you contemplating dragging him back to bed, but not this time.

“What is this?” You asked, so obviously talking about the razor Lando had thrown out the night prior. “A peaceful protest?”

Lando looked at you and then at the little contraption and then back at you, a hint of a playful smile on his face. Of course now he thought this was funny.

“Yeah that’s a good way to put it.”

“Are you fu-” you sucked in a breath to avoid losing your shit on him five minutes after waking up. “Why?”

“Because I’m growing out my facial hair again.”

“Why?”

“Oh is that the only word you know how to say?” Lando asked, mimicking your question from last night with more sarcasm than you wanted to deal with at nine in the morning.

You rolled your eyes and shoved the razer into his chest before storming past him, dragging your fingers through the roots of your hair while he was forced to call your name, stopping you from slamming the door to the bedroom.

“What?” Lando asked, voice raised. “Why are you so upset about this?”

Your hands tensed, cupping your own face as you exhaled into your palms before your arms fell back to your side, “I’m upset because you clearly are doing this because of that stupid comment on Carlos’ picture.”

“Maybe I just want to grow my facial hair out again,” he shrugged, leaning against the wall as he crossed his arms over his chest. He hadn’t thrown the razor out again, but that didn’t give you any sort of hope that he would hear you out.

“You don’t,” you scoffed. “You told me yourself it wasn’t permanent the first time. You just wanted to try it out. You tried it and it turns out, not for you.”

“Maybe I’ll like it more the second time.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at him, instead choosing to turn on your heels and start to walk into your bedroom, muttering a quiet, “Maybe I’ll hate it more the second time”

“Oh but you love Carlos’ facial hair.”

That stopped you in his tracks. Lando finally admitting that it was, in fact, the comment that was getting to him. Carlos and your interaction was the catalyst to all of this and instead of Lando seeing it as an exchange between friends, he was taking it personally.

You turned back around and walked right up to him, nearly chest to chest when he straightened up from the wall. Lando and you didn’t usually fight, both of you knew how important communication and trust was and it was and after the rocky start you had, you never wanted to go back to a place of uncertainty with him.

But this was fucking annoying.

“That’s what you’re mad about, huh?” You asked, holding his stare. “The fucking comment. And you think that growing your facial hair out is, what, a way to get back at me? Because you know I hate it?”

Lando said nothing, a dead giveaway that you were 100% right and he was simply being immature for the sake of being immature.

“Okay,” you nodded, throwing Lando off when your tone went from deadly to calm before he could blink. “You want to be mad? Fine. I’ll give you something to be mad about.”

Lando watched as you walked back to the room and he hesitantly followed, trying to make sense of whatever that ominous warning was that just came out of your mouth. He didn’t say anything when you walked out of the closet, fully dressed in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. An Enchante t-shirt even though he thought you were past wearing Danny’s merch. He didn’t say anything when you grabbed a backpack from under the bed and put your wallet and a few other necessities in there because it wasn’t like you were packing. This flat in London was basically your second home and this spat seemed too minor for you to be packing up your things and leaving.

But you were going somewhere.

“Where the hell are you going?” Lando asked when you finished brushing a comb through your hair. You slung the straps of the backpack over your shoulder and then, this was the kicker, you grabbed your passport that was sitting on top of the dresser.

You barely looked at him as you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his before you headed straight for the door.

“Back to Monaco. See you in Canada.”

—————

You were true to your word. Cutting off communication with Lando until you landed in Montreal the Thursday before the grand prix weekend started.

Lando, in return, did not reach out. But he did make it perfectly obvious that he was growing out the facial hair again, making sure to post about it every chance he got. You swore you had never seen him share so many pictures on his photography account and were you a little upset he went to New York without you? Kind of, but you were stubborn and so was he and you had now found yourselves giving each other the cold shoulder over a goddamn comment on Carlos fucking Sainz’s instagram picture.

“What’s up with you and Lando?” Charles asked, an unmistakable pep in his voice that you raised your eyebrows at. He stood next to you on the balcony overlooking the paddock, arms rested over the railing and mirroring your position, but he cleared his throat and reworded his question. “It’s just, something’s up, no?”

You shouldn’t have been surprised he figured out there was tension. If Lando’s fans could put two and two together when you neglected to comment or even like any of his pictures, your own brother could figure it out too.

“He’s an idiot,” you rolled your eyes.

“Well I could have told you that,” Charles snorted. “What really happened?”

“I commented on Carlos’ picture a few weeks ago and Lando took it as me liking Carlos’ facial hair even though I made it perfectly clear I hated it when he was trying to grow out his hair.”

Charles took a second to repeat your words in his head, “He’s upset because you commented on Carlos’ moustache?”

You nodded, “And now he’s growing his facial hair out again out of spite.”

“This is about so much more than facial hair isn’t it?”

You clasped your hands together. You felt Charles’ eyes practically burning holes into the side of your head but you focused on the people wandering around the paddock.

“He’s just dramatic and immature,” you muttered, deciding that was an easier answer than to have a whole therapy session with him. “He’ll learn his lesson, though. I have an idea.”

“Why do I have a feeling you are also about to be dramatic and immature?”

You laughed in response, right as you spotted the exact person you needed to help you with this idea. You patted Charles on the arm and told him you’d see him later before you all but sprinted down the stairs of the motorhome to chase after the other Ferrari driver.

“Carlos!” You called out, running after him before he could get too far. He turned around when he heard his name, a smile on his face when he recognized the voice belonging to you.

You had to admit, the grown out facial hair did suit him. Carlos was always handsome but this made him look more mature, more distinguished.

“I need you to do me a favour,” you said, a playful smile painted on your lips.

Carlos nodded, “This sounds like deja vu.”

“It has to do with getting back at Lando.”

“Now it really sounds like deja vu,” His eyes widened momentarily as he thought back to what happened in the club when you last asked for his help. He was still traumatised from that DJ set. But Carlos loved you, platonically of course, he would always help you. “What do you need, hermosa?”

A few photographers started to crowd you and usually at this point, any driver would continue walking to get away from the unscheduled media harassment. But this was what you needed.

You raised your hand up to his jaw, thumb tracing over the hair he was growing out as a shimmer of adoration glossed over your eyes. Your lips curled upwards and Carlos, even though he was certainly confused, played along, loving any excuse to mess with Lando.

“Just tell me to kiss you and I will,” Carlos joked quietly, face only inches from yours, and you pushed on his chest in response. He caught you a little off guard when he reached for your hand and pulled you back before you could force some space between you.

You glanced at his lips as Carlos held your hand between your bodies. You reached up with your other hand to cup his chin lightly, thumb dangerously close to his lips. To anyone walking by, it most likely looked like you were about to kiss him.

But you got all that you needed.

“Thank you,” you whispered, shooting him a wink before you pulled yourself from his grasp and walked back to the Ferrari motorhome, knowing that the media was about to have a field day with those photos.

You didn’t see Lando at all in the paddock. Whether that was intentional on his behalf or not, you had no idea. You did, however, see your name blowing up on twitter along with all of the comments about how you and Carlos looked too damn friendly to be just friends.

Lando’s text came about an hour after your name started trending.

Charles told you that you potentially took it a step too far, having a few choice words himself to say about you and Carlos, all of which you tuned out and told him you knew what you were doing.

But you weren’t entirely sure who had the upper hand when you got your key from the receptionist and made your way up to Lando’s suite at the end of the night. You purposely took your time getting there, deciding to go out for dinner with a friend first before finding yourself at his hotel.

And now you were holding your breath as the card reader turned green and unlocked. You pushed the door open, not having anticipated seeing Lando sitting on the couch and leaning forward as he scrolled through his laptop that was perched on the coffee table. He heard you walk in, heard you put your bag on the counter, heard you slide your shoes off and clear your throat, but he didn’t look up once.

Lando simply turned the laptop around on the table so the screen was facing you instead. On the screen was a tweet, or maybe it was a photo from Instagram, you were standing too far away to tell the source but you could make out the image of you and Carlos.

More specifically, the image of you holding your hand against Carlos’ cheek and giving him the smile that was usually reserved for Lando. One he hadn’t seen in almost two weeks.

He clicked on the trackpad and the next one appeared. Much more intimate than the last as this was the photo that gave Lando a heart attack. He didn’t expect to open his phone after the media pen interview and see pictures of his girlfriend about to kiss his best friend.

You didn’t regret what you did, that little act. You didn’t actually do anything except plant an idea in Lando’s head.

“What do you want me to say?” You asked, gesturing to the laptop. You took a few, horribly slow, steps forward. You were nervous about how this conversation would go, but you knew how to mask your emotions enough and as Lando stood up, eyeing you over, you didn’t buckle under the weight of his gaze.

He scratched his chin, his overgrown stubble, clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth.

You expected him to snap. To say something about the facial hair, about the photos, about Carlos. You hadn’t seen each other in weeks and you assumed that the first conversation you had would be a fight, because, let’s face it, you were both dramatic and immature.

But you didn’t expect his shoulders to drop and for his stare to go from cold to distant as he opened his mouth and asked a question that broke you the way nothing else in your life ever could.

“Do you love me?”

It caught you by surprise, “Do I-” You took a few steps forward, the wall you had up had now fallen and all you wanted to do was reach for him. “Why are you even asking that? Of course I love you. You know I love you.”

“So then why?” He asked, referring to the photos.

You exhaled a breath before responding, “Because you were making a big deal out of that stupid comment, Lando.”

He stepped forward too, closing the gap between you inch by inch, “I made the appropriate amount of deal over seeing my girlfriend flirt with someone on social media.”

He hadn’t raised his voice, not yet. It seemed that you both wanted to avoid that. You weren’t ones to yell at each other, you argued, yes, but your voices never echoed off the walls.

And you didn’t want to yell, not when you knew what this was really about.

Your lips parted, but you barely got a thought out, “Lando-”

“He still has feelings for you.” He stated, as if Carlos had told him that himself. “He still likes you and I know- I know you guys are friends, I can’t tell you not to be friends but I don’t like the way he looks at you. I don’t like that you are blissfully unaware that he’s into you, that he’s-”

“No, you know what I don’t like?” You cut him off sharply. “I don’t like that this is clearly something that’s bothering you and instead of talking about it to me from the beginning, you let it simmer and focus on things like comments and facial hair and being childish, Lando.”

When you stepped forward, Lando thought you were about to lose it on him. Instead, you lifted your hands to cup beneath his jaw, your thumbs gently tracing small circles on his cheek and Lando could finally breathe because this was the first time in days he was feeling your touch and even though things were strange between you, your hands holding his face in font of yours felt right.

“You need to talk to me about these things,” you told him. “If something’s eating at you like this. How was I supposed to know this was so much bigger than a stupid fucking moustache?”

Lando laughed at your question, because it really was insane when he thought about it. He should have told you about his distrust with Carlos instead of letting his frustration boil up.

“Lando, I love you,” you whispered with a soft chuckle. “I love everything about you, everything that matters. Your heart, your soul, the way you treat people, your sense of humour, the way I can trust you with absolutely everything, how you managed to win over my entire family and for fucks sakes, yes, I absolutely hate your facial hair but have you ever stopped and thought about why?”

Of course he hadn’t. Lando acted first and thought later.

He hesitated before asking, “Why?”

The corners of your mouth turned upwards, your eyes darting down to his lips as you pulled him closer, his hands finding your waist.

You lips hovered over his, teasing him with a ghost of a kiss, something just within his reach but when he tried to connect your lips you kept pulling back, leaving him hanging.

“Because it itches.”

Lando pulled his head back, still in your grasp but no longer trying to kiss you as confusion flashed over his features instead.

“Itches?”

“Itches,” you repeated with a slow nod. “I don’t like your facial hair-” you ran your thumb over his chin and the stubble he had grown out. “-because when you go down on me, it. Itches.”

Lando opened his mouth, only to close it promptly while your words sunk in. Of course that had never crossed his mind, that the feeling of his facial hair rubbing against the inside of your thighs, near your folds, would cause displeasure.

“And I’m sorry about the incident with Carlos,” you continued on, knowing you had to address it. “I’m not making excuses but if you are acting childish, I- in return -will also act childish. If I had known it was about more than facial hair, I wouldn’t have caused such a scene but god, Lando, I don’t give a shit about Carlos growing out a beard or a moustache because it’s not his lips on me. It’s not him eating me out.”

Lando cleared his throat, not surprised that you were so blunt with your choice of words. You always were. He was surprised, though, when you stepped away from him and turned around, leaving him a little speechless as you walked towards the bedroom.

Before stepping through the door frame, you glanced over your shoulder and raised your eyebrows at him, “Are you just going to stand there?”

That got him moving. He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off as he followed your footsteps, discarding the top behind him. When his arms slid around your waist, pulling your back into his chest, you melted into his hold.

You craned your neck, giving him more than enough access to press his lips to your skin. Your hands covered his as the quietest moan followed a strained exhale. He trailed his lips upwards, but refrained from going further, lifting his head up after just a few seconds.

You turned and looked at him, spotting that stupid grin on his face.

He nudged you towards the bed, “Get comfy, my love, I need to take care of something first.”

You didn’t need to question what he had to take care of. He planted a kiss on your cheek and retreated towards the bathroom. Doing what he said, you climbed atop the bed and you as well, had a stupid grin on your face when you overheard the dull sound of an electric razor trailing in from the hallway.

And god was it music to your ears.

#lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #ln4 #holllandtrash #6 to 1 series

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theblueflower05 · 1 year

Text

Just a Little Taste

A/N: Welp. Somehow my breeding/breastfeeding kinks manifested themselves into a story. I wrote this sky high on painkillers and I am a little in love with the whole premise. @tiredmamaissy -I hope more than anything that you enjoy this. You deserve all of the goodness on this site. Your Masterlist is my personal spank bank lol

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: This story is Filthy. Smut with very little plot. Breastfeeding. Pussy Eating. Slight mommy kink if you squint. Very pregnant reader getting pleasured, because pregnant beings can still be sexual. Aged up!Neteyam

You are responsible for cultivating your own online experience, please do not interact if any of these tags are triggering to you. Minors DNI.

Summary: You’re eight months pregnant with Neteyams child, and after a long day, you both need a little relief. Neteyam x Human! Reader

"Sugar, Honey, Iced Tea

Bumble-bee on the scene.

Yeah, I'd give up my bakery to have a piece of your pie"

- See You Again, Tyler the Creator ft Kali Uchis

Life in the village is always busy. Constantly bustling with life and movement as everyone; human scientist, Avatar and Na’vi alike, rush to keep things afloat.

High Camp is so different then Home Tree had been, the rage of war adding a constant edge to long days and restless nights. You miss the comfort of a slow life, of hazy days down in the jungle. The jagged cliffs of the Hallelujah Mountains still don’t quite feel like home to you.

Still, you go about your daily duties.

Being a Pandoran raised human had always given you a different insight, the two massively different cultures you we’re brought up in clashing and mending to create a skill set that was like no other- it had taken many years of painful trial and error to find your place within the Omiticaya, but healing had always come naturally.

Both holistic and surgical alike. You’d spent years shadowing Mo’at and learning the ancient herbal ways of the people, while well as taking advantage of the many PHD toting scientist back at Hell’s Gate. Medicine had no boundaries, was a way for you to feel close to both sides of yourself. To broach the gap between human and clansman.

You find your skills being needed more than ever. The ever constant raids against the RDA means your hands are rarely idle, forever in movement as you tend to the wounded. Some days you sit in the big Healers Tent with Mo’at and the other Taskarem, and others you’re in the makeshift Medi Bay, which is really more of an Avatar Pod Trailer turned OR, with the handful of human surgeons.

The long hours spent on your feet leave you sore and exhausted, but you have to pull your weight.

Even if said weight is far heavier than usual as of late-

“Y/N” you’re broken out of your thoughts by Max- as he enters the trailer with a holo-tab in hand and a concerned look in his dark eyes “What are you still doing here?”

“I was just finishing up inventory- our antibiotic stock is back way up. Jake was right, those helicopter raids were more than worth it” you’d sorted out the tiny vials of vital medicine by hand, not wanting any to be misplaced or mislabeled.

“You don't think maybe you should head home?” He continues and you sigh.

You miss your tent, and the soft bed of furs that lay inside the secure warm flaps. And the man that waits for you inside of the patchwork leather walls-

“I’m fine” you assure. And really, you are.

It's a fact you have to keep reminding people of.

Yes, you’re as big as a Strumbeast, but you are no less competent. No less able bodied.

Pregnancy is one of the most natural parts of life, a base staple in all’s existence. There are plenty of pregnant Omiticaya women who were expected to play their roles, even as the battle raged outside the safety of the mountain cave system.

It was the nature of your pregnancy that was more…fragile then average. Inside your womb grew a child that would be the first of it’s kind. A scientific mystery: no one had even known it was possible for Na’vi and humans to procreate.

And yet all of the evidence now lies under your shirt. Your stomach round and pronounced, full of growing life.

Full of the love between you and the Olo’eyktan’s eldest son.

Neteyam had left his permanent mark on you. Had part of himself growing inside of you. The thoughts we’re enough to make your knees buckle if you focused on them too hard.

“You’ve been here since 6am, you really should get some rest. Take one of the empty bunks if you want. Have you checked your blood pressure-”

You’re a grown woman. You’re not going to huff and puff and roll your eyes, but fuck, do you want to.

Everyone was so overbearing lately.

Norm and Max we’re constantly breathing down your neck; “The baby has a different growth rate then a human child, we need to monitor the way that your body is responding” Followed closely by Jake who watches you with sharp eagle like eyes and Neytiri, who used to all but ignore your presence, constantly checking in on you throughout the day. Mo’at’s always poking and prodigy, and Kiri almost always has her hands on you in some way shape or form.

You are glad for the support, happy that this baby would be so loved.

But really, you missed being treated like the competent, independent woman you knew you we’re.

“My blood pressure is fine. I thought since we ruled out preeclampsia we weren’t going to worry about it anymore” you know that it’s not going to silence his worry, but still. You can try.

Max goes on one of his science mambo jumbo spiels, and by the end of it you’re waddling out of the lab and back to your hut, annoyed as shit but placating your pseudo father figure all the same. Only a month and a half mor of this and then things could go back to normal.

Everything had just…changed so quickly.

You 're a caretaker by nature. Caring for others is easy, feels right. You’d tucked the much older scientists into bed when you we’re just a pre-teen. Made dinners. Looked out for Spider and the other Sully’s-

And the role reversal still didn't quite sit right with you. Your control freak ways didn't do well with not being the one in charge- you’d been stripped of your title so to speak. You we’re supposed to relax into your new role, enjoy being doted over before the nine month’s we’re over.

You and Neteyam’s shared tent is in the centered in the cave, close to his families, but standing on its own. As private as anyone could get in the busy, close quartered camp. The walls of the hut are familiar, adorned with your combined belongings. Cozy and familiar.

You shimmy free of your confining bra, step out of your cargo pants, then toe off your boots, releasing your swollen sock covered feet with a groan before collapsing into your well loved bed, the soft blankets and familiar scent of your mate lulling you into a deep state of peace.

It’s kind of wild how quickly you can fall asleep these days. Growing a little person from scratch tends to burn a lot of energy and the moment you relax, you’re out like a light.

You don't wake up, even when the horns are sounded for the return of the War Party.

Not when Neteyam makes his way through the camp and enters the tent. He’s wearty, grime covered and hunched over. He only softens when he sees you, tucked safely, into his bed. Your eyes still closed and face still scrunched up as he strips out of his battle band and shin covers. He’s quiet, washing off with the large freshwater basin in the corner before making his way over to his much-missed bed mat.

It isn't until he's crawled under the blankets and wiggled his way as close to you as possible that you begin to stir. His large cat like snout nuzzles into the vulnerable crevice of your neck, chuffing hot breaths against the smooth skin.

You’re not upset at him for waking you up, a drowsy half alert smile stretches over your lips as your hands run up his strong back. Gently working the tense muscles.

He gets so greedy when he comes back from the War runs. He needs to be comforted, to be held and you are all too willing to comply.

Everyone else infantiles you now, and yeah, Neteyam could get a little intense and overprotective, but your relationship had always worked because you were the one person in all of Pandora that babied the future chief.

He was such a sweet man, with so much responsibility on his plate. You loved nothing more than holding him in your arms. Letting him release any and all tension because you had him. You, a tiny soft skinned human, were the barrier between him and the ruthless world.

You’d be such a great mother to his children. His hind brain purrs at the thought. That even through all of the controversy, he knows he’d chosen the right mate. Little and fierce, he hopes the baby is just like you.

“Are you okay?” You ask, tone hushed in the darkness of the tent. The only light coming from the small dying embers of the firepit in the center of the space. Hypnotic shadows dance along the canvas walls and Neteyam's breathing grows shallow as he sinks into it.

The way you smell. The way your heart beats, strong against his cheek. The way your plump body feels so good under his wandering hands. He hadn't been okay, just moments ago. He was delirious, so sick of the fighting that he felt ill with it.

But how could any of those bad feelings exist when he had you waiting for him? Ready to welcome him into your body, your heart, your mind. He doesn't think he could survive without knowing the solace of your love.

“I’m okay, narlor(beauty). Just missed you” he mutters, still trying to dig his face deeper into your skin. He wants to escape inside of you, you chuckle at his futile attempts to mend you both into one entity. His large palms rest against your bloated belly, tenderly and your heart flutters “Missed you both so much”

Being so loved is overwhelming.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

“I missed you, my sweet baby. I missed you all day” you assure him with the words you know he needs to hear. “Our son here thought it would be fun to jump on his sa’nok’s bladder all day. It was like was playing the wokau(pendulum drum) all day long- I spent hours in running back and forth to the bathroom”

Neteyam's laugh is deep and rich. Thoroughly pleased to listen to your stories of your day, eager to hear every minute detail. Desperate to drown out visions of blood and gun smoke with your voice.

“Ah, you have to be nice to your momma, little one” he chastises the bump, raising your shirt over your head, wanting that flimsy barrier gone. His lips trail over the tight skin of your bulging belly as he speaks to his child.

Your son, still safe inside your soft body, knows his fathers voice already. Recognizes that slightly accented cadence, and squirms inside of you happily.

Neteyam usually speaks strictly in Na’vi to your unborn child-

“He needs to know the language of our people, first and foremost”

-he’ll spend hours whispering his mother tongue into your flesh. It always leaves you boneless and shaking. Feeling so special and cared for. Na’vi, though your second language, is familiar to you. You’re fluent in the language- but fuck. The way your mate speaks it is the most beautiful thing. It’s musical, he tells sprawling stories with his colorful words.

There is one English he’s very fond of though. Every time it leaves his plush mouth it makes you grin, sharp. Knowingly.

“Are you gonna be nice to momma, Neteyam?” you question him after a while. His ears quirk, swiveling on his head and his tale flicks once, in obvious excitement.

You know what he’s wanted, ever since he woke you up by nuzzling at your chest. Ever since he peeled off your top and left your heavy breasts bare. Did he think you missed the way his golden gaze would flick to them, eyeing them hungrily.

He needs this as much as you do, but as usual, your sweet boy is too selfless to ask. Won't trouble you with his wants unless you bring it up first.

You reach for his big hand that rests on your belly, and drag it to where you need him. His palm enveloping your tits, the rough callus’s catching on your sensitive nipple just right-

Your pregnancy had been different than regular humanoid pregnancies. Your body worked hard, thrown into overdrive in an attempt to keep up with the fast growing fetus in your womb. You’d started lactating months ago, far earlier then normal. Your breasts firm, full with milk. Ready to feed the child that had not yet come into the world.

At first it had been both painful and embarrassing. You had no child to drink what you were producing and the other breastfeeding women in the tribe we’re hesitant to feed their babies your tawtute(human) milk. Already over emotional due to the hormone change, you’d wept at the fact that you had no one to give what your body readily made.

The fact that you couldn't be a bigger part of your community due to your human heritage, combined with the intense pain that came from having backed up ducts had been too much,

Eventually you’d turned to Neteyam, both your eyes and shirt soaking wet. Begged him to help you. And of course, as always, he did.

It should be awkward, or shameful- but connecting with him on any level is something you cherish. Why would this be any different?

“I’m always nice to you, aren't I, love?” Neteyam gruffs as he gently works at the breast in his hands. Its firm and full of milk, his mouth waters “Do they hurt again?”

“Mhmm” you whine pathetically, and you’re not lying. The skin of your chest is now marred by stretch marks and you’d had to stuff precious, hard to come by toilet paper down your bra all day to keep them from spilling over “They’re so full, Nete”

“Oh” He hums, thumbing at your nipple “Poor momma, I’ll help you. Don't worry” his lips are wet against your skin as he kisses his way to your breast, his tongue peeking out to circle your puffy nipple. A pearlescent drop of milk tops the rosy bud and he groans as it hits his taste buds.

He tells you that you taste good, often. The juices of your pussy, your spit soaked kisses. He’s always been greedy for it, his tongue bullying its way into your holes, desperate for your essence. Your milk is just as delicious as the rest of you.

It quickly goes from kitten licking, wide wet stripes against your pebbled nipple to sucking your big breast as far into his mouth as he could. Careful of his fangs as he gorges himself on your flesh.

He’s loudly appreciative as he suckles on your nipple. Grunting and humming and moaning at the flavor. Your arms come around him, cradling his head to your bosom because it feels so good. Having him this close, knowing that he'd do anything to take care of you. That he truly loved the way you tasted-

Many people thought you and Neteyam would never last. It was lust, they’d claim. Curiosity. A childhood friendship that would fizzle out eventually. Na’vi needed Tsaheylu, it was the lifeblood of all their relationships. Why would the much desired future Olo’eyktan stay with you if he couldn't even properly bond you?

While you couldn't deny that there we’re doubt filled moments that you yourself wondered why he’d chosen you and stayed so loyal to you…you still felt your own form of connection to him. While you’d love to make that sacred bond with him, you didn't feel any less close to your mate.

You never thought that you could be so intertwined with another being.

As Neteyam takes his fill from your breast, you massage the base of his Kuru, firm enough that it makes him hiss. You have no special braid of your own, but he’s always been very free with his when it comes to you.

You can do with as you please. Stroke it. Lick it. Massage it. Hell, he’d even let you touch glowing pink tendrils at the end of it before. Let you feel his exposed nerves, so vulnerable and raw in your hands that he had shed tears as you explored.

Nothing was taboo in your relationship. There was no space undiscovered between you.

Your bodies we’re so very different, and yet you knew his like the back of your hand. All of the strong muscles and hard sinew. The cobalt expanse of his skin didn't have one blemish that you haven't memorized. You could point out his striped pattern in a sea of other Na’vi.

And he knows you right back.

Loves to dig his fingers into your doughy hips, into your pillowy thighs. Your wide ass and ample chest. He loves your form, goes crazy for all of your alien curves. He never cared for your human modesty, he’d wanted to part your ass cheeks and stare at plump of your pussy for as long as he could remember. Wanted to strip you of all of those clothes and just stare.

The fact that he gets to do just that, for the rest of your lives, is his favorite, favorite thing.

You watch him eagerly as he slowly nurses. You can't get enough of the sight of him, his hollowed cheeks, the bob of his throat as he swallows your free flowing milk. He's so strong, his muscles flex in the dim light. All of that strength, and yet he’s so very gentle with you, his rough tongue laving at your sore buds every couple minutes. Soothing and tickling you all the same.

You giggle at a particularly quick swipe, letting out a small squeal as Neteyam’s tongue plays with the flesh in his mouth. His eyes peek open, glittering with mirth and low boiling heat as he meets your gaze. Whin his lips split into a smile, a dribble of translucent white milk escapes. Trickles down from the corners of his lips.

Heat pulses between your legs and you know he can smell how aroused you are.

Neteyam has always been able to turn you on without even trying. A well spoken word, or even a pointed look could get you running your thighs together. All desperate to get him alone and put your hands all over him.

You hate that you cant kiss him the way you want to, your Exo Mask, while necessary to your survival can be suck a fucking menace sometimes.

Your thumb traces his lips, the ones you want pressed against your own so bad. You rub the spilled milk from his chin. Cleaning him up in a way that's so simple, and so beyond erotic.

He breaks eye contact first, like he just can't look at you anymore. His brows all scrunched up, his chest raising and falling rapidly. He releases your sloppy nipple, completely covered in his saliva, and presses his face against the damp skin. Making a sound of distress.

Your fingernails skritch at his scalp, tangled in his many braids “What is it, baby?”

“I wanna fuck you so bad. Eywa, do you even smell yourself, Y/N? So good. I have to-”

“Yeah, yeah, okay” You nod, agreeing blindly. He can have whatever he wants.

“Fuck you hard, though. Gotta pound you. I know I shouldn't but it’ll be alright, huh? Won't hurt the baby?” his face is still buried in your skin, you cant even see his expression as he pleads for your pussy. It makes you so hot.

You push at his chest, needing him to get off of you for just a moment. He’s heavy as shit, a dead weight- doesn't really move until you're pouting and demanding for him to just give you a little space.

Enough that you can wiggle out of your panties and spread your thighs wide for him. Your swollen, sticky pussy on display for your mate.

His nostrils flare, and his thin tail whips wildly behind him.

When he swings your thick thighs up onto his broad shoulders, you let out a low, appreciative moan.

“Such a good boy for momma” you praise him the way the people praise the Great Mother. The cradle of your thighs a sanctuary where you both come to worship.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Welp, I should be finishing up Part Three of First Love/Late Spring or plotting out future installments of The Sweetest Sylaung, but here I am writing nursing filth. Lol I truly have zero regrets, this story was so very self fulfilling(even though it partially came from a request). I hope you guys enjoyed though

As mentioned many times before, requests are currently open. Please send in all that good shit. I could use a good distraction from real life!

#neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam sully smut #aged up neteyam #Neteyam x pregnant reader

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naffeclipse · 1 month

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I'm sorry if this question has been asked in some form or another but... How would Eclipse, should he have ever moved away from the Arctic in search of a new home, react if he encountered a pair of orphaned Orca Siren Calves (Sun and Moon) being raised by a reclusive writer human Y/N? Like either their sibling got the Siren Transformation and the whole pod is just now... gone due to some unfortunate events... Or the Y/N just found the two orphans in the shallows near their very secluded home and the parents never came back?

Point is human Y/N is trying their best, but that means things aren't going all that great. Both kids can read and are cared for. Moon is a master of the door dash app when using the tablet kept on land near the water for them. But there's love... Lots of love.

How would he react to this?

Oh, I love this

You wanted to be left alone, unfortunately, the two... babies, didn't get the memo. They're so small. You have no idea what to do with the mythical creature children. Sirens. Sure, you've heard of them. So why aren't they taking care of their young? Why are they wailing at the edge of the icy land you've made your home on? It doesn't take long for you to take pity on the small things and feed them some chewed fish (but only this once).

Somehow, you end up with a small ice shelter where you've carved two breathing holes under the ice to let the seawater and the babies swim for a day, keeping a careful watch on them while jotting down a few ideas you've had for your writing (perhaps inspired by sirens). Then, at the night's end, you lovingly pick up both toddler-sized sirens, tucking one into each arm to carry them to your home where your bathtub has become a makeshift crib of seawater and half-chewed rubber duckies.

You believe they're twins despite their different appearances, one touched with cream-colored orca markings and soft yellow frills framing his face. The other brother is black and white and has a slippery dark blue tendril behind his head, trailing into a luminous bulb. They have mismatched eyes but share one blue iris.

So much for only feeding them once. The tiny fish got you wrapped around their little claws.

They growl and chuff and softly whine whenever you're not within sight, and each of them demands time alone to snuggle against your chest before you set down your bedding on the bathroom floor and urge them to sleep through the night. You're right here if they need you. Somehow, one or both end up on you, dripping wet, and you can only groan and softly hold the babies through the night despite their constant wiggles and slick, sheeny bodies.

This goes on for a few years before you start to worry that your bathtub is too cramped for the children. Sun and Moon (oh gosh, you gave them names; now you're really attached) are so smart and excel at reading and writing, making use of markers and whiteboards, and remembering to let their hands dry before grabbing the paper from the floor of the ice shelter to draw doodles of the icy waves.

There were learning curves, such as when you had to scold Moon for biting you so hard his sharp teeth drew blood, but he cried, so you stopped being angry and showed him how to help you bandage your hand. See? All better. But no biting. Another time was Sun growing impatient with your slow pace as you gathered your writing materials before joining them in the ice shelter, and he grabbed your leg and halfway pulled you into the frigid water, shocking your system with the sheer cold before you scrambled out and had to retreat to your home to undress and get warm. Sun hid away from you, unwilling to come out despite your coaxing once night fell. You had to lay down a new rule: they cannot pull you into the water. You are not built like them. He clung to you and apologized, and you forgave him with a kiss on the forehead.

You wanted to be left alone with your children. (Yours. Your babies.) Unfortunately, they're not the only sirens around. You sense another presence just at dusk when you're preparing to take Sun out of the breathing hole (you can only carry one at a time now, and even then, it takes all your strength to lift with your legs—when did they get so big?) and pause with your hands under Sun's arms, his hands still opening and closing for you. Through the slight opening in the flap of the ice shelter, out into the shallows of the icy sea, you see two pairs of eyes, yellow and red, and piercing.

A siren.

You react with adrenaline and fear, fueled by the intention to protect your children no matter the cost, and pull Sun and Moon out of the breathing holes in a second. Placing them in the far corner, you shield them with your body. The strange siren pokes his head through the breathing hole not a moment later. Eyes wide, breathing harshly, you stare each other down, siren against human. His gaze slips past you, and he grins upon finding Sun's and Moon's big eyes peeking around you as they cling to your shoulders, confused and frightened. Their flukes flip anxiously.

The siren grinned at you, and for the better half of the night, you conversed with the siren about how you came upon your children. His intentions remain sinister and masked until he at last tells you how perfect he finds you and the boys. You stare, standoffish, but he assures you, he will be the father that they need, and the mate you deserve. You don't believe him. You don't trust him with your babies, but when he grabs your leg and rips you away from your children, much to their protests and small cries, you're caught under him and his caressing claws before you realize that his hunger is more.

It starts to make sense. Of course, Eclipse can teach them far more than you can about how to navigate their marine existant and how to properly hunt and not only take food from your hands. He teaches them how to sing, how to watch prey, how to use their strength and teeth to conquer. And you... you watch, realizing that you miss those bathtub days, but your boys are happy. They love Eclipse and Eclipse, well, when he's not tending to the children, he's spending time with you, laying his crossed arms on your lap to gaze up at you, insisting you accept a dead seal from him.

Maybe he has a bit of charm. And maybe you begrudgingly let you sing you to sleep when you're left fretting about Sun and Moon swimming late into the night on their own, but they're growing big. They don't fit in your arms anymore. You start to feel a little forgotten before you find all three sirens acting very suspiciously, your boys whispering before telling you that Dad—Eclipse wants to give you something. He softly presses a beautiful black pearl into your palm. You've never been much for anything that isn't practical, but it's beautiful, so you take it. Eclipse is pleased and so are the Sun and Moon. He steals a kiss from you. You don't mind.

You wanted to be left alone, but you find yourself in the siren's arms as you both watch a burning orange sunset and your sons playfully fighting in the small waves.

#man that found family really do be hitting hard ya know?#augh #apex polarity #idk what to call this i'm too emotional about it #orca!eclipse #orca!sun #orca!moon #recluse!reader #naff writing

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 1 month

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On The Verge of a Usual Mistake ║ ⓞⓝⓔ๏ⓞⓕⓕⓢ

On the Verge of a Usual Mistake | main masterlist | PAIRING(s): ex!Lucien x actress!reader x ex!Dieter

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 2.3k | CONTENT: this is truly just porn with minimal plot (I'm so proud of myself lol), Dieter and Lucien are messy exes, threesome activities, Twister but with genitalia, Daddy and Papi kinks

| SYNOPSIS: You've been avoiding your exes Dieter Bravo and Lucien Flores all night at this event, but you're forced to come to terms with how things ended in both relationships when they seek to right their wrongs.

“My publicist is gonna kill me!” you hiss into the dampened light of the small room Lucien unceremoniously ushered you into.

“Baby, come on. The tabloids loved us together, remember?” he coos.

“The two of you can’t just be pulling this shit! Not when I’m trying to talk to Wayne from A24 about—”

“The fuck’re you two doing in here?” Dieter whispers loudly as he closes and locks the door behind him. “You seriously going back to him after turning me down?”

“Dee, this is not the time,” you snap. “And I’m not doing a fucking thing with this asshole. He practically herded me in here.” You’re grateful neither of them are aware of the pooling slick between your legs you’ve been dutifully ignoring all night with them both chasing you around and begging for a moment alone.

“Well, three makes a party then,” Dieter decides.

“We’re not interested in that sort of partying,” Lucien cuts in.

“Oh, cut the sober lifestyle bullshit. I’m not the one you’re gonna fool with those bogus rehab claims,” Dieter scoffs.

“Well I guess if anybody knows about stints in rehab, it’s you,” Lucien snipes back.

“Okay, I’m leaving,” you huff. You push past Lucien who grabs for you, but it’s ultimately Dieter’s gentle but firm hold that keeps you from exiting. “Dee, let go of me. The two of you can have at each other all you want. Besides, you don’t need me here when neither one of you is gonna listen to me anyway.”

“Don’t be like that,” Lucien pleads. “I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me all night.”

“Yeah, exactly,” you laugh without a hint of amusement. “You want me to listen to you. Never the other way around. It’s the same with both of you. Always has been. Neither of you know how to put anybody else first. Why do you think I ended things? You’re just two peas in a fucking pod.”

“You really feel that way?” Dieter’s hold on you has slackened to a weak grip. Your head whirls back around to look him in the eye. He looks hurt. Dammit. “You think I don’t want to put you first?”

“I never knew that,” Lucien admits quietly. He edges in closer until you’re practically sandwiched between your exes.

“It’s not like I didn’t tell you,” you grumble, aggrieved at their past mistakes and kicking yourself for not just bolting out the door before they mess with your head like they always do.

Some quiet exchange happens between Dieter and Lucien, and you recognize the silent conversation just as it appears to end. Lucien’s hand creeps along your lower back while Dieter’s hands crawl back up your sides and arms.

“You’re right, baby. I never did things how I should’ve when it came to you. I blew it. Messed up the best thing I ever had. S’why I’ve been on your heels all night just trying to get a word with you,” Lucien says softly into your hair. You shiver at his warm breath fanning across your skin.

“I miss you so much,” Dieter confesses in a hush. “Let me show you how much I miss you. Please.”

“Let us both show you,” Lucien adds. “Let us show you we can listen. Let us show you we can put you first.”

You’re going to give yourself a stern talking to in the mirror tomorrow morning, but right now all the reasons why this is a terrible idea are like wisps of smoke catching to the wind. When Dieter nuzzles against the crook of your neck and Lucien is already down on the ground and underneath your dress, your resolve shatters into a million pieces. “Okay. Yeah, I–oh fuck, Lucien–”

The fat wet line of his tongue between your folds jolts you forward into Dieter who busies himself with lifting and tucking your dress aside so he doesn’t miss the show. He’s already got the top of your dress shoved down so he can suckle on your tightening nipples. “Dee,” you gasp.

“I got you,” he groans, nipping and teasing your nubs. “God you look so good. Missed this so fucking much. Missed these tits so fucking much.” He gropes them in appreciation, and his eyes go wide in that wondrous sort of way that they always seemed to whenever the two of you fucked. Every time was like he’d never seen a woman before, not with the way he’d shower you with compliments and superlatives.

Your legs are already shaky with Lucien working between them, and you don’t even bother feeling ashamed at the orgasm that’s already building. It’s been a long time since you’d been with an attentive partner, and nothing quite compared to the likes of Dieter or Lucien. They’d ruined other sexual partners for you forever, but you wouldn’t be caught dead telling them as much. Their egos were inflated enough as it was. Besides, they’d just hear that and not the other side of the coin which was how they were stingy, selfish companions when it came to the emotional aspect of a relationship.

“You want to be Mommy tonight? Or do you want me to be Daddy?” Dieter asks a little breathlessly.

Throwing all dignity out the window, you reply, “I want Daddy tonight.”

He almost sounds pained as his eyes clamp shut at your answer. “Fuck yeah, I can do that. I can be Daddy. You need your Daddy?”

You nod so loose and frantic it feels like your head isn’t attached to your neck. Lucien never stops but inches forward until he’s looking up at you from between the cradle of your thighs. “Tell Papi what you want,” he husks.

“I-I want you to make me come, Papi,” you whine with a roll of your hips.

He suctions onto your clit, and you’re gone. Dieter seems absolutely giddy to watch another man make you come, but something about it is comforting and endearing. You hate how familiar and heady this all feels, knowing full well that come tomorrow morning it’ll be another fading memory to lump in with all the others. You push away the painful acknowledgement before it ruins your orgasm entirely.

Dieter’s fingers slip inside you with no resistance, and you both moan in unison at the way you part for him. Lucien’s wet mouth and chin leave a sloppy trail across your neck where he lays even sloppier kisses. “Can I take this off?” he asks. You nod, and he unzips and unfastens your dress before tossing it onto a nearby table. “I fuckin knew you wouldn’t be wearing panties,” he says low and needy into your ear.

The rhythmic plunge of Dieter’s fingers has you hurtling towards another climax. “Been a while since somebody gave you what you needed, baby?”

You bite your lip and dip your head. You hate how easily they could both read you. It made you feel laid bare, and not in the fun sort of way.

“Let Papi and Daddy make you feel good, okay? Don’t think about anything except letting us make you feel good,” Lucien whispers against your temple from behind. You feel the hard curve of his clothed cock pressing against your ass. You push back against it and stifle a grin when he moans. The grin slips away the moment Lucien’s fingers slide down your body to rub your clit in time with Dieter’s fingering. You aren’t sure whose hand comes to cover your mouth while you come, but you’re glad somebody has enough sense right now to think about other partygoers overhearing.

“You were always so pretty when you fell apart,” Dieter reminisces with a goofy, tender smile. He slips his fingers from you and licks them clean. “Better than I remembered.”

The sound of Lucien’s belt and zipper draw your attention backward. “You gonna let me fuck you wide open, baby? Think you can take all of me? It’s been a long time.”

“I can take it,” you breathe, arching your back for him to enter you from behind.

“Good girl for Papi,” he praises. He jerks himself a few times with a slip of spit and lines his cock up to your entrance. “Always such a good girl for your Papi, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes, Papi. I’ll be good,” you choke out.

He inches inside you with an agonizing, languid pace. Your breath catches when he finally bottoms out. He’s so much bigger than you remember, but you still want more. Dieter captures your mouth in a heated kiss just as Lucien starts thrusting, and your high pitched cries of pleasure are caught between his lips. “Daddy,” you whine as you latch onto his shoulders for support. Lucien’s pace picks up quickly, and for a few minutes the small room is only filled with panting and the squelching sounds of him splitting you open.

“You’re taking his cock so good, baby,” Dieter says against your teeth. “You like taking raw cock, don’t you? You always begged Daddy to fuck you raw.”

“Fuck! Yes, I like it when Papi and Daddy fuck me raw,” you cry. “I want Daddy to fuck me raw, too.”

“Yeah?” he goads with a smile. “You want Daddy’s cock after Papi fills you up?”

Lucien grunts and whimpers as he struggles to keep his pace with all the back and forth filth.

“N-No, Daddy. Want you and Papi to fuck me raw together,” you beg. “Please, Daddy. Please Papi?”

Dieter rushes to free his cock and wet it with spit as Lucien starts chanting yes yes yes. He stills for Dieter to push against his own length and fight for the tight space of your cunt. They work together to hoist you higher until Dieter is notched at your entrance and finally pushing inside. The stretch burns and makes you feel present in your own body in such an overwhelming way for the first time in a long time. The first few thrusts are experimental and slow, but it doesn’t matter. You’re already crying and coming and losing yourself in the intoxicating sting of both their cocks wedged inside the fist of your cunt.

“Christ,” Dieter hisses. “Fuck, this is gonna make me come too fast.”

“Tell us what you want,” Lucien urges, sounding close to the edge himself.

Your pussy throbs and clenches around them both as you try to make your brain and mouth cooperate. “I want you to come in me, Papi,” you whine. “Want you and Daddy to fuck me and make me come again. Make me come and then fuck me ‘til you come inside me.”

“Anything for my girl – Papi’s good girl,” he assents.

“Daddy’ll give you whatever you want, baby,” Dieter adds in a hoarse sounding wheeze. “Gonna milk my cock in this tight little pussy. Gonna give you whatever you want.”

Despite never really caring much for one another, Dieter and Lucien seem to sync up with the common goal of giving you another mind numbing orgasm. The feel of their thick cocks crowding your insides, sliding against each other so that each push and pull is a constant punch of a cockhead against your cervix. “Fuck I’m gonna come again,” you blurt out as your climax surges and swells without warning.

You’re sandwiched between two sweaty and breathy men who now seek their own release. Dieter comes first with a pitiful little stuttering whine. His mouth rounds out in a messy kiss as he pulses inside you. Lucien is just behind him with a gravelly moan as he fucks you nonstop. There’s so much of them spilling inside you and being pushed out, and the warmth of it makes you feel sated and soothed.

You’re a boneless bag of flesh when they both catch their breath and ease you off the spear of their cocks. You sigh at the feeling of them drooling out of your pussy. With their concentrated, streamlined focus, your dress is put back on and properly closed back up. Lucien turns you to face him for the first time since you tried to leave earlier. “Can I kiss you?”

You want to laugh at his request given the fact that he’s currently leaking out of you alongside the efforts of your other ex, but you know why he’s asking. He knows certain types of intimacy are something that mean more to you and have to be earned back in trust. “Yeah, Lucien. You can kiss me.”

His body nudges yours against Dieter’s, hands coming up to cradle your face as he tenderly presses his lips to yours. It’s slow and soft and damn near perfect, especially considering Dieter is dotting the curve of your neck with his own kisses. You aren’t sure how long you and Lucien are lost in each other, but it’s blowing your mind to see Dieter be patient for once. Maybe they both really meant it when they said they wanted to do better by you.

You pull back with red, puffy lips and heavy eyes. Lucien looks down at you with a soft smile. “I miss you.”

Your eyes flutter shut at the unspoken words laced within: I love you.

“I miss you every day,” Dieter agrees quietly.

“Look, I–I miss you both, too, but I can’t promise anything,” you warn them. “You both really hurt me before. But, tonight was… nice. It felt nice.” You wonder why it never occurred to you to do this before. The two best lovers you ever had, at the same time. It was a no brainer, really. Probably all that pesky broken heart stuff clouding your mind that kept you from realizing what a good time it could be.

“You don’t have to make promises anymore. That’s not your job anymore.”

“No, baby. We’re the one who need to make promises so we can show you that we can keep them,” Dieter adds.

It might be the dumbest mistake of your life, but you can’t fight it anymore. You can’t fight how good it feels to be with them both. Despite all the pain and heartache they’ve caused you over the years, they both always felt like home in a way. “I think I might be willing to let you try.”

Okay the Lucien Flores brainrot got to me. As far as exes go in the celebrity world, you could do a lot worse than Lucien and Dieter. Also, reader clearly has a type haha.

#lucien flores x reader #dieter bravo x reader #lucien flores x you #dieter bravo x you #lucien flores smut #dieter bravo smut #pedro pascal characters #the bubble #the uninvited

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xjustakay · 2 months

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✺ (3/10) ✺ @jegulus-microfic prompt: sugar — 1,146 words (jegulus dads ft. harry; when the five year old is on a sugar high)

Immediately upon getting home from his meeting, Regulus is aware that things have not gone to plan. James was meant to pick up Harry from his mums’, and the two of them were supposed to decide on dinner and their entertainment for the evening. They usually have a movie night together, the three of them, when Harry first comes back to theirs again, but it seems his husband and his son had other plans upon coming home.

Because they’re out in the backyard on the trampoline.

Regulus hears Harry’s loud laughter carrying from the back screen before he even has to check. Setting his keys aside, he makes his way to the door to the backyard. He stands there inside for a moment, helplessly fond as he watches where Harry sits cross-legged, looking up at James, waiting.

James bounces gently in place a short distance from where the five year old sits before launching himself to land on his feet closer beside him. It flings Harry a few inches off the trampoline’s surface, his little limbs flailing as he shrieks excitedly. He flops flat onto his back afterward, lost in a string of giggles that ends up turning into ‘again, again, again!’

Two peas in a pod, James laughs with him, then reaches with both hands to tow Harry back up in his previous position. Before James can properly send him bouncing as he had moments prior, both of their heads whip in the direction of the sliding screen door when Regulus opens it to step outside.

“Papa!” Harry smiles widely, waving over at him with both hands. “Papa, watch this! Daddy can make me fly.”

“Oh, he can, can he?” Regulus smirks, coming off the patio onto the grass near the trampoline.

Harry nods and looks up at James. “Show him, daddy.”

Despite the fact that he’d just witnessed it moments ago before joining them, Regulus plays along, pretending to be awed by the way James jumps and causes Harry to bounce up off the trampoline. Again, Harry giggles for several seconds, cheeks rosy and smile unrelenting as he rolls from being flopped on his back onto his belly.

“You gotta try it, papa,” Harry tells him. “Daddy’s been doing it for ages now and it’s so fun every time.”

Regulus chuckles with a slow shake of his head. “Where’s all this energy coming from, I wonder?”

“Cookies!” Harry answers immediately, squirming up onto his knees.

One dark brow arches, Regulus’ eyes shifting to James who has the decency to look momentarily sheepish under the questioning look.

“Cookies before dinner?” He asks pointedly.

“I can explain,” James starts.

“Mama was making a whole bunch of them and mum sent me here with a big plate to share with you and daddy,” Harry explains for him.

��So, really, that look should be reserved for Pandora and Lily, my love,” James chimes in.

Regulus smiles tightly, head cocking to the side. “I’m sure you’d prefer that.”

James grimaces faintly and clambers off the trampoline, out through the zip-up mesh opening that keeps the edges screened in, to come to Regulus’ side. A large hand falls at his waist, Regulus still managing to look sternly up at him even when James leans down to kiss his cheek. He clearly has been humoring their son for a while, because he’s flushed and a little sweaty, slightly out of breath and so warm at Regulus’ side.

“You know how hard it is to get him to settle down when he’s had too much sugar,” Regulus points out.

“I know, I’m sorry.” James smooths his hand along his lower back in a continuous motion.

Regulus hums, gaze drifting to where Harry half-runs, half-bounces around the full circle of the trampoline. “How many did you let him have?”

“Just one, I swear.” James follows his line of sight, stepping even nearer to him to curl his arm around his waist. “But he did mention that Pandora had been letting him help in the kitchen, and you know that means—”

“Licking all the spoons.”

“And handfuls of chocolate chips. Ah, and some of them are frosted, even, so uh… icing taste tests, too.”

“Great.” Regulus shakes his head. “This has to be some kind of payback for when we brought him and Luna back to theirs after all that cake and candy at Ron’s birthday party.”

James chuckles and squeezes gently at his side. “He’ll crash soon enough, surely.”

“I assumed that’s why you brought him out here in the first place,” Regulus says.

“It was either that, or his suggestion to build a pillow fort pirate ship in the living room. I felt this was less jarring for you to come home to.”

Regulus watches as Harry does a quick somersault only to spring back to his feet, bounce twice in place, and purposely land on his bum with another bounce. He laughs breathlessly, adjusting glasses knocked askew by the impact, and Regulus can’t help but huff a quiet laugh of his own. Hopped up on sugar as he may be, Harry’s joy is never a thing Regulus takes for granted. Even in the silliest of moments —if not especially then.

“You’re going to sleep like babies tonight,” Regulus comments.

“Probably true.”

“After a solid bath time because you’re both so gross right now.”

James snorts, giving a tilted nod of his head in agreement. “Fair.”

“Have to figure out dinner still, too.”

“We could order a pizza to make things easy?” James suggests. When Regulus nods in reply, he nods, too. “I can stay out here and help him run off some more of the sugar high if you want to go ring it in?”

“No, I’ll watch him. You go inside and get yourself some water before you pass out or something,” Regulus teases.

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m in excellent shape,” James scoffs. Lower, just for him, he murmurs, “A fact you’re very well aware of, my love.”

He punctuates the playful remark by nipping gently at the edge of Regulus’ jaw. Regulus bats him away, lips twitching upward in a smile that couldn’t be held back even if he tried.

“Heathen,” He mutters.

“That’s me. Your heathen husband.” James smacks an overdramatic kiss to Regulus’ cheek this time before separating.

Harry hops up closer to the trampoline’s edge, hands braced carefully on the outside net to ask, “What’s a heathen, papa?”

Regulus hears James laugh loudly behind him on his way inside.

He shakes his head, grinning fondly as he looks back at Harry. “Don’t worry about that, darling. Why don’t you show me how your cartwheels are coming, hm?”

Harry brightens immediately, nodding and leaping backward. “Okay! Make sure you’re watching the whole time!”

Nothing else in the world seems more worth Regulus’ time than watching their boy be so happy. Riled up on sugar or otherwise.

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #starchaser #sunseeker #jeggy dads feels never let me down #also brought to you by my 5 y/o niece being so easily amused/distracted by the simplest of things when she’s hyper #+ also how i joke about winding her up on sugar before taking her back to her mom lmao #anyway #love jeggy and baby harry sooo much #sweet little silly loving family<3 #kay’s microfics #kay’s writing #jeggy dads series

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pink-princess-pussy-pop · 7 months

Text

Welcome Home - King Ben x Reader Smut!

Warnings: smut, ben cusses :)

Request: Hi! Could i request a king ben smut where he has like a tough meeting about some other country and goes into his office where the reader is waiting for him all sweetly and he just bends her over his desk and gets his frustrations out?

(The way he smiles makes my insides CHURN.)

Everything was planned to a T. After being gone for two weeks, visiting King Charming and Queen Cinderella, Ben was finally returning.

Chad had unfortunately, but not surprisingly, done a stupid business deal with some pirates off the coast of Auradon. Since he was technically in Auradon waters, Ben was the one who had to handle it. After sorting out the issues with the pirates, he’d gone to King Charming’s castle to discuss the matter further, leaving you to govern Auradon.

Not that you minded, you just missed your husband. A great deal. So his arrival needed to be perfect.

His plane would arrive the next morning and so you had taken the initiative to have everything prepared. You’d asked the staff to prepare his favorite meals, planned a date for the next evening, and as your own added touch, we’re now setting the biggest vase of blue roses on his desk.

You opened your phone, looking at the last text he’d sent you.

It was from this morning,

See you soon, my love.

You simply couldn’t wait.

Your days were lonely without him, as were the nights. And selfishly, you’d been missing something else. These past two weeks was the longest you and Ben had ever been apart and your body was definitely feeling the repercussions.

You really missed Ben.

ALL of Ben.

As you turned around, the door to his office opened. Your head looked backwards and your heart jumped at the sight of your husband. His bag fell to the floor at the sight of you.

You froze in place, leaning back on his desk.

“Wha- why are you back?”

He smiles.

“Wanted to surprise you. Didn’t think you’d be in my office, sweetheart.” He walks closer to you. “Are you not happy to see me?” His brow arches.

“No, I am I’m just confused-“ Your words are cut off by a kiss. Ben lifts you up sit on his desk, stepping between your thighs. As much as you want to give in, you push against his chest. “Wait, Ben… how was the meeting?”

His eyes roll.

"Horrible. Chad's dad is an asshole. Chad is an asshole. The pirates were assholes. Now, I'm finally home and I'd really, really like to fuck my wife. Is that okay with you?" His eyes flicker down to your lips then back up to your eyes.

"Uh... yeah sure. That's cool."

"Great." His hand wraps around your head, pulling you into him again, lips meeting yours. Your hands find his face, thumbs sliding over his cheeks and pull him closer.

His fingers trail down your body and then grab your waist.

"Ben..." He keeps kissing you. "Do you maybe wanna..." Another. "Go back to our room?" His fingers play with the hem of your blue dress.

His voice comes out hoarse and deep.

"No, I think we are gonna stay right here."

Ben's lips attached to your neck, fingers threading up into your hair to tilt your head back.

The other hand begins pushing your skirt up higher and higher. Your breathing turns uneven as your eyes dart around, hoping no one is going to walk in on your escapades.

"Ben, are you sure..." He pulls away harshly, glaring at you.

"Do I need to bend you over my desk, Y/N?" You suck in a breath as a deep blush crosses your cheeks. His eyebrows raise because of course he notices and then his eyes roll. "Oh for fucks sake."

And then before you can even blink, Ben has you bent over his desk with your skirt over your hips.

You whine as his hips roll into yours, fingers curling over the edge of his desk. Your head turns, ready to glare at him when he rips your underwear clean off.

Your eyes widen in surprise, stammering out his name but go silent when you feel him podding at your entrance.

His voice is hushed next to your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body.

"A loss for words, honey?" His fingers tighten on your hips as he pushes into you. Your knuckles turn white as your grip on the table tightens as well. He gives you no time to adjust to him and begins ramming into you. You shove your face into your arm, biting the flesh to contain your lewd sounds. "Fuckin' hell. Missed you so much."

One of Ben's hands leaves your side to press down on your back and you arch in response. Though you cannot see him, Ben grins. He loves your body's response to his. He can never get enough.

His jaw sets as he nears his orgasm, he'd missed you so much that he could barely hold it in. The sounds of his groans fill the office, along with the slapping of hips and the wetness of your core.

Desperate to make you come before him, his fingers dip between your conjoined hips to circle your clit. You jolt in response, an especially loud moan escaping your throat, boosting Ben's already inflated ego even more.

Before either of you know it, your pelvic muscles squeezing uncontrollably around him and his body collapses onto yours, absolutely spent. The two of you are silent while you come down from your highs and then Ben places soft kisses across your shoulders.

"Welcome home, my king." He groans as he feels himself harden inside of you.

"Oh, honey..." He pulls back, ready for round two. "Welcome home indeed."

Not sure if this is what you had in mind but there ya go. Hope you enjoy:)

#ben descendants smut #ben florian #ben x reader #king ben #ben florian x reader #ben descendants #descendants king ben #descendants smut #descendants

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b1rds3ye · 10 months

Text

Before the Mask

You eagerly return to the Federal Security Service’s base from a month long mission hoping to see Nikto again, but you’re told he’s not around. In the meantime, you find your interest piqued by a mysterious masked figure now wandering the barracks…

Pairing: Nikto x GN!Reader

Reader Aliases: Seeker

Word Count: 7.4k (I did NOT expect it to get this long so pls enjoy~)

Genre: Pre-Modern Warfare/Prequel, Fluff, Mystery (?), Reverse Comfort, Light Dose of Angst

Warning: Descriptions of injuries, swearing, mentions/portrayals of mental disorders, insults against physical experience, probably ooc Nikto, Reader is a lil oblivious

A/N: everyone being down bad for masked men Ghost and König but y’all forgot my man Nikto 😩 😩

“Congratulations to our dear comrade Seeker for their success and safe return!”

There were cheers all round as you entered the room. By the time you reached the main table, your back was sore with the slaps of congratulations and a job well done. The Russian Federal Security Service had sent you under the radar for a month long operation, and your comrades gifted you a surprise night of drinks and games upon your return. Even your fatigued body was energised by seeing familiar faces, and you had to give it to yourself, that last operation was probably the best you’ve ever performed. There was no better way to celebrate - surrounded by your allies… however it seemed one was missing.

“Where’s Nikto?” You questioned the troops surrounding you. It was an innocent inquiry, no one should be surprised, before your mission you were two peas in a pod. And yet the instant his name left your lips, the faces of your friends cracked for a split second before they forced their smiles to return. The area around you had gotten quieter. Your shoulders rose as you inwardly cringed. God, that’s embarrassing, you’re dampening the atmosphere to your own damn party.

“Brother Nikto is busy,” one replied. “He’s on field duty for the next few days-”

“Weeks,” another quickly corrected.

“Oh…” You frowned at their words, slumping back as you put your whole weight on the backing of your chair.

“He sends his regards, said he really wanted to come,” the troop added hurriedly.

“You worked hard the last month, Seeker. Do not push your mind now,” a sergeant tried to refill your drink upon seeing your dejected state, but it did little to quell the disappointment. Of course neither you nor Nikto could decline a mission, but you didn’t realise how much you were banking on being able to see Nikto again. Going undercover you interacted with no one but your direct superior. You missed him; he may be a little rough around the edges but he was steadfast and reliable. He may not have a face sculpted by Michelangelo but he had a rugged handsomeness that had made him a sight for your sore eyes. He wasn’t the most talkative but he had a drive and charisma that motivated you to keep fighting when he was in your sights. Oh well. For now, you’ll make the most of tonight and chase up Nikto later.

You took a massive gulp of your refilled drink, slamming it back on the tabletop half empty. You let your eyes scan across the room, only for it to land on a figure leaning against the opposite wall. The moment you two make eye contact he flinched, snapping his face away. And what a face - or lack thereof. His features were obscured by a smooth mask made of hard black plastic (or metal, you weren’t sure) that hugged his face like bandage wrappings. He wasn’t the largest figure in the room but he was still imposing enough for you to be unable to look away once you noticed him. It didn’t help that his entire body was clad in black, more akin to an assassin or ninja than a soldier. And like a ninja, he left at unimaginable speeds when he noticed your eyes were still on him.

You leaned over to the soldier beside you.

“Who was that?”

“Who?” They followed your gaze, only to be greeted with an empty wall.

“There was a guy with a big, bulky mask, haven’t seen him before. Did he join while I was away?”

They were silent for a few moments but you swear you heard them quietly curse at your question. They cleared their throat and nodded slowly.

“Yes, new guy. Don’t have a name for him yet. Probably shouldn’t ask.”

Over the next couple of days, you managed to pry Nikto’s number from one of your mutual friends. You didn’t want to look desperate to talk to him but you figured you were restrained enough after an entire damn month. His mission shouldn’t be undercover so he’d have access to all contacts. You shot him a casual text, a greeting and a wish that his mission is going well. Then it was the waiting game, you can’t imagine Nikto being an avid texter that eagerly hops onto every notification.

You had a few weeks until your next deployment but that didn’t mean you could slack off. In days like these you waste the hours away in the shooting range, in the last aisle where you’re tucked and hidden away.

Arms steady, breath slow, you shot at the target. This pistol was new, the weight distribution was off and it was showing in your inaccuracy. If you stared at the target any harder you would end up seeing double. With a grumble, you tore your gaze away and reloaded the weapon.

In truth, you originally didn’t have a preferred aisle of the shooting range. It was on one faithful visit where the range was packed, you had no choice but to take the furthest and dingiest one.

“You are good shot.”

Funnily enough, that interruption was all you needed for your next bullet to completely miss the target. You slowly turned around to make eye contact with a man adorning a matching uniform to yours. You tried to hide your scowl as he let out a raspy chuckle. He didn’t seem all that expressive, just a small quirk of the lips at your misfortune.

“Care to have a try?” You taunted, stepping back from the range and towards him, challenging him with your unwavering eye contact. You waited a solid twenty minutes for this aisle to free up you’d be damned if someone takes it after five.

“No, no, I will watch you. I am learning a lot.”

… that was arguably worse.

You sighed inwardly as you turned back to resume shooting. You could feel those cerulean eyes burning into the back of your head. It took an extra few seconds for you to quell your trembling for each shot. You recognised him, he was someone in your squadron who you had yet to greet. He wasn’t the easiest to approach, but you’d be lying if you hadn’t been admiring his combat prowess from afar.

“Commander chose well to hire you,” the man eventually praised, his voice rough. But he sounded closer, as you turned around he was right behind you, sending you almost jumping towards the range. “But your form is lacking… can I?”

You nodded, trying to step away to give him space to demonstrate but it seems you misunderstood when he took a large step towards you. First cupping your shoulders, he reoriented you to face the target. Picking up on what he was trying to do, you got over your initial surprise and returned to your default shooting position. He grabbed your elbows, calloused fingers rough even through your shirt fabric, readjusting your form as he saw fit. He didn’t even provide commentary, only giving a satisfactory grunt when he was done.

Eventually, you risked turning your head to look at the man again, only for him to immediately fix your slackening arms. As he did, you focused on his face, taking it in. Despite his constantly stern expression he did seem quite the looker.

Noticing your gaze, he regarded you again.

“My name is Nikto. I usually shoot here but you shoot well, I will let you practice here too.”

You shook your head as you willed the thoughts away. Back then, you didn’t expect yourself to get so close to Nikto, but now here you are, your mind lamenting that he isn’t here and conjuring up memories to compensate after only a few days. How lame you chastised yourself as you finished reloading.

A creak of the floorboards has you whirling around. Oh. It’s that guy again. The masked man who you saw at that celebratory night. Typically, someone of his stature with a mask hiding his features would be intimidating, but with the way he was hunched over with eyes wide like a deer in traffic lights, you weren’t all that concerned. And so, you extended an olive branch.

“Hello-”

The man dashed away.

To be fair in your line of work, half the time you’re grateful if they run away.

With an inward shrug, you turned back to the shooting range. But not before you took one sneaky look at your phone, checking the message you sent to Nikto.

Read 12:35pm.

That bastard.

A fellow troop gave you an encouraging nudge of the shoulder at your irritable expression. There were a lot of reasons you were pissed this morning, the fact it was extra cold, the fact it was extra early, the fact you were extra tired. But whatever it was, it was not because it has been a week and Nikto has not replied to you. Why would you care? This man has only been through hell and back with you on missions, you’ve saved each others lives a good dozen of times and had each other’s back both on the field and off. No sir, this man is completely insignificant to your life.

You felt like a damn child with how petulant you were with your phone now, it felt far too heavy in your thigh pocket as it shook with each step. You were getting phantom vibrations as you could swear you received a text but it was never from him. You really should give Nikto the benefit of the doubt - these missions can be high stakes and confidential - but giving the benefit of the doubt won’t make him reply any sooner either so you’ll keep being petty.

You were encouraged to get a drink at the kitchen before you train. You grumbled to yourself as you headed there (about what, you weren’t sure, you figured just cursing the heavens and everything on this earth would alleviate your anger). But as you went to the kitchen, you had a new reason to hate life.

They changed the coffee machine.

The army had prepared you for a lot of things, you’ve memorised essay long Russian military protocols, you’ve learnt complex weaponry but what the fuck is the machine standing in front of you? Why does it have fifty more buttons than the last one? Why can’t a poor, very lonely feeling soul, just get themselves a humble drink?

You experimentally pressed what you hoped to be the main button, only for the coffee machine to make a disapproving noise. You let out a groan before trying another. There was no response.

You smacked the machine, which ended up hurting you more than it hurt it. Taking a step away, you were ready to punch the mechanical brat, winding your arm back…

Inhale.

Exhale.

A steady breathing brought you out of your rage, only it wasn’t coming from you. Turning around slowly, you found yourself coming face to face with the fully clad man again. You don’t know how this broad figure keeps sneaking up on you, especially when you notice he breathes like Darth Vader. He stood at the centre of the kitchen, a few metres away from you yet still enough for you to feel on edge.

“Uh…” you looked at him curiously. He was too far away to get a good judge of his eyes - it didn’t help that the surrounding skin was coated in an obsidian that blurred his eyebrows and fine lines. But even from this distance, while he was looking at you his gaze seemed to be looking past you. Or perhaps deeper into your soul. Simultaneously focused and not, body still except for the slow heaving of his chest. And that breathing. You figured he was breathing through his mouth with how raspy it was. You had never heard a breath so laboured, it was worse than someone going for a marathon. It was more than his breathing sounding like a chore, it sounded painful, injured.

What sort of new recruit is this?

You figured there’s not much of a point deciphering that, you had more dehydrating problems. Clearing your throat, you gestured to the coffee machine.

“Could you help me with this…?”

There was a few tangible seconds of no response. It was only until you were about to push off the counter to leave did he do a quick jerk of the head and start moving. In a couple of strides he reached the coffee machine. He grabbed two mugs and pressed a convoluted line of buttons which you couldn’t figure out nor memorise. Then the machine made the whirring of good, hard effort and the two of you waited.

A Russian curse had you popping your head into the kitchen. There was Nikto, staring down at the coffee machine harder than he looked down the sights of a sniper rifle. You’re pretty sure victims of his wrath have gone through less than this poor coffee machine right now.

“A watched pot never boils,” you stated.

“A watched coffee machine?”

“Doesn’t look like it works either.”

Nikto groaned, only quietening at your giggle as you stood beside him, getting the coffee beans.

“We do not use these fancy robots for coffee,” Nikto stated idly as he watched you work the coffee machine.

“You make the coffee yourself? Some people would call that fancier.”

He shrugged in acknowledgement.

“What type of coffee?”

“Make me your strongest.”

“Roger that.”

After making his drink, you then made yours. You figured he was just learning through watching, getting mentally familiar with the machine. It was only the next morning you realised he was memorising what you drank, with him sliding it to you across the kitchen counter the instant you entered the room. Steaming hot, the best you’ve ever had it.

This was probably the closest you’ve ever gotten to the masked man, able to scrutinise and take a good look at him. His uniform was identical to yours - implying a similar rank - but when you eyed the patch at the front of his clothes, there was no surname provided. In particular, you were more curious in the expanse of skin around the eyes, the only part of him left uncovered. Whatever powder used to darken the surrounding skin in ash black only emphasised it’s rough texture. It wasn’t like the typical soft, sometimes baggy, skin around the mask of the eyes. No, his was taut, as though it was pulled back by an unknown force, where even a microexpression could cause cracks across such parched skin. Perhaps it already did, judging by the maroon bleeding between the cracks.

Against bloodshot eyes were his stormy irises. Dark and deep like the ocean, filled with turmoil. Maybe you misheard and this wasn’t a new recruit, instead someone who transferred. A newbie would never look so jaded already, not as though there were raging seas in their consciousness. A hurricane brewing, ready to devastate while the mind desperately tries to pick up the remaining pieces of self before the next terrifying wave washes over.

“Who are you?” You whispered aloud, almost shocking yourself and causing the man to look at you. He squinted, searching your face. It felt quite intrusive but to be fair you were doing the same a moment ago. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to read your expression or committing your face to memory, either way you remained silent. Eventually he pulled away and just shrugged.

At least he didn’t scurry away like last time, which is a good sign, maybe he actually wanted to know you. Third time’s the charm.

“Well, uh, feel free to call me Seeker,” you replied, offering your hand out to the man.

He stared at it for a moment, contemplating, before his gloved hand took yours. He shook your hand but with his other, he pointed to his throat. That, combined with the obvious scarring and breathing suggested that his voice has been fried. You have no idea how that’s going to work on missions - maybe he really is some silent, deadly ninja. But you suppose an ally’s been made.

You two turn upon hearing the footsteps of a lieutenant as he enters the kitchen. The masked man passes you the drink he made for you before taking off, pushing past the lieutenant, shoulders crashing together when they meet at the doorway. The lieutenant looks back at him before looking back at you.

“Damn, you really are special to him.”

“Sir? I just ran into him at the kitchen,” you raised your eyebrows as he joins you to make a drink of his own.

“Negative, he avoids everyone when possible. All day be mopes around in his room. I can not blame him, he clearly swam through shit’s creek and back.”

“Huh…”

Nodding slowly, you took your cup and returned to your friend with a new tidbit of information. You take a sip.

Your drink is exactly as you liked it.

A scream had you sitting up. It was blaring, right in your ear, bouncing around in your mind, hitting all the nerves that made the hair on your skin stand to attention. You rushed to stand up, only for your legs to get entangled on a blanket as it curled around you like a serpent. Clawing at the fabric you tried to pull it off as you hurriedly looked around for where the scream came from. Maybe you could hear for it again but you couldn’t hear over your racing heart. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, but it was hard as spots in your vision had you looking everywhere and anywhere. Eventually you realised where you were.

You were in your room.

Another one of those nights, huh?

One where your body was at base but your mind was back on a mission, rehearsing each fight and kill over and over again. Your blanket finally relented, releasing your body as you pulled it off with a full sweep of your arm, letting your sweating body finally breathe through your nightwear.

With a heave, you hauled your body out of the bed. You weren’t going back to sleep anytime soon and judging by how dark it was, you have a few more hours until daylight. Getting changed into simple gear, you head out to your special spot at the back of the base. It’s covered in greenery for privacy with a single bulb by the door exit keeping it just light enough to see where you are. No one wanders round the back and it became your go to place when you needed to take your mind off of things.

Opening the door, you were greeted with familiar surroundings. It had been over a month since you last came here, so there were a few changes. One of the bushes had grown exponentially, a tree had lost an overhanging branch, a man was standing slumped against the wall-

What.

Over the last week, you kept seeing the masked man around, despite the words of your lieutenant. To be fair, you only ran into him when you were alone. He somehow knew all the base secrets that took you months to know. You ran into him off the beaten path of a nearby hiking trail, it was part of a new route you made to avoid the hordes of new recruits that jogged around. The old training room neglected for the new one was your personal haven but he found that too - which wasn’t surprising since he seemed pretty introverted. And now he’s found another one of your spots.

You didn’t mind though, he was good enough company… you suppose. He’s started speaking now, only single word sentences. His voice is incredibly raspy, more air than actual vocalisations. Through his broken voice you can still hear the thick coating of a Russian accent. His voice appears to be getting better though, you’ve had to ask him to repeat himself less these days, his tone is a little richer. But oddly enough he seems more reluctant to talk to you, the words he’s spoken to you on the daily you can count on a single hand.

Still, you would be lying if you said you weren’t a little peeved. This spot was meant to be truly isolated for you, allowing you to walk off your stressors, back and forth and back again until you no longer get the horrors of covert warfare flashing in your mind. Or the ability to freely talk to yourself as you sorted your thoughts, free of judgement. But now you have to behave like an actual functioning human.

“Morning,” you mutter, you really need to give him a code name soon if he’s so reluctant to give you his actual name. It’s less of a surprise seeing him around these days, he’s like a phantom cursed to the base, seemingly everywhere all the time. The masked man eyes you curiously, prompting your answer.

“I just needed some fresh air, I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. You’ve heard some of the others during the night, yeah? War catches up to all of us. There’s kind of an unofficial buddy system when it gets too much.”

You’ve gotten quite adept at reading his body cues. A quirk of the head by him. On anyone else it would look cute, like a golden retriever but not on him. While curious, it was commanding, more like an interrogation by the good cop instead of the bad.

“My buddy? Uh, he’s out on a mission right now, I guess. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

You leaned back on a tree, ignoring the pang of your heart. He followed you, standing in front. Caught between a large tree and an equally wide man would have most people shaking, but not for you. It was as though he was trying to make your world smaller, more comprehensible, less terrifying.

“My last mission went well but it doesn’t mean I’m proud of what I did. I just woke up and I couldn’t get it out of my mind.”

He leans forward, listening intently. It was sweet how open his body language is around you.

“It sometimes makes me question enlisting. I never feel like I’m doing the right thing, or if I’m doing it that well. If I did it right it wouldn’t be coming back to haunt me, right?”

You looked at him, trying to look into his eyes but in this darkness with his back facing the light his features morphed together into a faceless silhouette.

“Did you wake up from something similar?”

After a moment of contemplation he responded with a singular nod. And then the two of you were left in an understanding silence.

Upon realising that your hand had an iron grip on your other arm to the extent it will probably leave bruises, you let go. Your free hand was now trembling despite how you willed yourself to calm down. Whispering a curse you tried to shake the nerves out of your limb.

When that didn’t work, the masked man took your shaking hand. Instead of just holding it, he offered a firm but gentle squeeze. It was just the right pressure until he eased his grip, repeating again in a rhythmic motion that was all too familiar.

You weren’t used to the battlefield. The FSB specialised in undercover missions, quiet, slow and methodical. It was more an acting lesson with high stakes than anything, eliminations were more creative than a bullet to the brain, a slow acting poison meant you rarely had to see the consequences of your actions.

But now here you are, deployed as last minute reinforcements. Leaning against the only standing wall in a destroyed house, you tried pushing yourself against the bricks, hoping to assimilate with the wall. You wanted out. This was too much. You weren’t prepared for this. To the east was a distant explosion, it lit up the horizon briefly, but it was more daunting how quickly it went silent. The west and the north held most of the fighting, the darkness briefly lit up by gunfire which would disappear as quickly as it ignited, it burns your irises creating specks in your vision. Your ears were ringing, gunfire from all sides, there was another explosion in the east, there were shouts all around or perhaps it was just your mind screaming at you to leave. There was another yell, that was one of the new privates, even though you’ve never heard them scream like that before you could tell it’s them, this should be their first ever mission, you met them this morning and they seemed really nice, they talked a lot about their younger siblings, they really wanted to see them again you hope they’re okay, oh god what if they’re not-

“Seeker!”

You instinctively push even deeper into the wall, one final ditch effort to get out. You don’t even know who shouted your name until your sight of the battlefield is entirely blocked by the man of the hour.

“You are breathing too quickly,” Nikto stated as he hunched down to your level. Now you were distracted from the battlefield by pure embarrassment. Nikto, in your eyes, was the epitome of a soldier. He’s objective and efficient, and ultimately ruthless when an ally’s performance is subpar without good reason.

“I can’t do this,” you admitted with rushed words, syllables slurring and tumbling over each other. “I’m not- I’ve never been here before. I just work undercover. I can’t be in a war.”

“Only a madman wishes for war,” he says.

You shake your head furiously, looking at anywhere but him. You don’t know how he stays so calm in these situations, you envy it, you admire it. Why couldn’t you just be like him? Your shame is mixed in and swirling with the panic, any more emotions and they’ll rush up and spill from your throat.

“I’m a coward,” you muttered as you pulled your knees up. Nikto frowned as he leans even closer.

“Scared, yes. But you are no coward.”

Nikto looks around before pulling out one of your arms that you had wrapped around yourself. His hand - unoccupied by a weapon - holds onto yours. You return the grip like he’s a lifeline, impossibly tight but he did not wince. Noticing how your gaze was only trained on your connected hands, seemingly fascinated with his presence, he brings your hands up, letting your eyes drift until they settle on his face.

“Take a good look. I am here, I am with you,” Nikto didn’t speak loudly yet you can hear him over the chaos.

He squeezes your hand as your grip on his loosens. It’s gentle, especially through your thick gloves but you can most certainly feel it. It’s a slow, repetitive movement, almost as if he was massaging your hand or resuscitating your limb. A welcoming gesture, grounding you, coaxing you back onto the battlefield. You don’t know how long he keeps at it but he doesn’t relent even with as war rages on, he never misses a beat.

Eventually you narrow in on a shout. It’s oddly close, and in a language you can’t understand.

“Hostiles,” you say simply, with the voice of a soldier.

As you pull your hand away, Nikto lets out a sly grin. You wouldn’t fault anyone else for describing his smile as evil, but to you, it’s a delightful expression.

He hands you back your own pistol.

“Steady your hand, my friend, I need your aim.”

As the masked man’s grip on your hand loosens you immediately pull your arm away. You cradle your arm as if it had been burned. You almost feel like you’ve been violated, your privacy intruded on. That little intimate gesture was done by Nikto, for Nikto and him alone. That single gesture sent memories flooding into your mind. From moments just before a battle to waking up in the dead of night with the horrors of battle invading your sight. That gesture alone saved you an ungodly amount of times. It must be a cruel, cruel coincidence, but you couldn’t stop the scowl climbing on your face. Your eyes were locked on him and he was staring back. Screw you for extending an olive branch and screw him for actually accepting it. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Waltzing up and treating you with utmost care like he could replace a dear ally of yours?

No, you weren’t tolerating it.

Your body may be behind a base in the dead of night, but your mind was on the battlefield. And in that moment, it only knew how to push back and fight.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you seethed. Despite your most intimidating expression, he does not flinch. He doesn’t even move. For once it is purely silent between you two as he holds his breath.

What was he waiting for? Did he need further instruction? You were more than willing to issue them out.

You pushed yourself off the tree trunk, almost launching yourself straight into the man’s chest had he not lunged back.

“Who do you think you are?” You hissed. “I don’t know why you keep hanging around or following me. I don’t know much about you and I’m an idiot who keeps talking my head off. But you know too much. I don’t know how but you do. Maybe I’m just too easy to read. We’re not best friends, you don’t have the right to do that to me. You just- you just don’t.”

You sounded a lot more eloquent in your mind. You don’t even know the point you’re trying to make anymore, but the only possible course of action in your addled brain is confrontation. And it seems like a victory as you make the man retreat, halfway to where the door is.

“Leave me alone.”

He hesitates. Almost as though he’s concerned for your wellbeing, or maybe he’s just pitying you which feels worse. He then dips his head in acknowledgement, before simply walking away. Not without one final look at you, you can’t tell if it’s because he wants you to change your mind or if he’s so selfless he just wants to check you’re okay, but it’s not looking good on either front.

Once you heard the click of the door closing again, you flexed your now empty hand as you grimaced. You hated how you were missing his presence already. At least you were now free to pace back and forth and talk to yourself to your heart’s content.

After another two days Nikto finally replied to your text. He took his damn time. He said he was sorry for his absence, welcoming back to the base and that he hoped to see you around again. But those felt like empty words when he didn’t even give an estimate to when he’ll be back.

You frowned as you read the text, almost throwing it across the room as you sat in the common area. You’ll reply later. If his texting game can be ass, so can yours (at least that’s you tell yourself but you’ll probably respond to him in a few hours). With nothing else to do, you found yourself eavesdropping on two other sergeants.

“You know, I was thinking of a name for the masked menace.”

You rolled your eyes, it turns out you can’t avoid the masked guy even when he’s not physically around.

“Oh yeah, what?”

“Freakshow. Got that idea the instant we fished him out of Zhakaev’s compound. His face is fucked, not even a mother could love that.”

“Quiet, he could beat us up.”

“Maybe before, not now. Punching someone would probably break his own arm. Or the skin at least. Definitely the skin.”

“Easy, now. That’s your comrade.”

Despite your conflicting feelings towards the masked man, this was just downright cruel. All it took was a sideways glance from you (and perhaps giving them a bit of an earful) and the two shut up.

Pulling back, you reread Nikto’s text. You were overanalysing, you knew that, he’s always been a direct and honest man but there was something about his message that was bothering you. Even though you have barely texted him, you were sure his physical behaviour could translate to mobile. He was punctual, he replied efficiently with just enough words to give the maximum amount of necessary information. But the sentences you were reading were far too long, like he’s trying to compensate. Like he’s lying.

You decided the next best course of action was to clear your mind at the shooting range. It was a quiet time, most people would be eating lunch about now, so you were sure your go to aisle would be free. As you entered you could already hear the distant shooting of a gun. The ceiling light casting a shadow over the figure that stretched across the booth and into your view. They were in the last aisle.

In a form of psychological warfare, you take the aisle next to the shooter in hopes they’ll get the idea to scram. There’s a break in their shooting as they notice where you’re situated and you can’t help but smirk, only for it to drop when you realise who’s in the next aisle.

That rugged breathing was in mistakeable. So rugged it dried out your own throat. God why did it have to be him? Leaning on the bench in the booth, head down, you took a few deep breaths as you considered your next course of action.

You had to admit, perhaps the last time you interacted you weren’t in the best of mind. But upon reflection all your interactions with the man are starting to putting you on edge. It could be pure coincidence - whatever god out there taunting you that you got a little crush on some Russian guy that left you on read - and you put your bitterness on him. He didn’t deserve your anger.

Hands in your pockets, you tried to nonchalantly wander towards the aisle next to you. The man kept shooting but you were sure it was just a farce. He knew you were behind him.

“Uh… I just thought you should know that one of the boys is trying to make a callsign for you.”

Real smooth, Seeker.

He stops shooting but his position is fixed, aiming down the aisle.

“It’s not that great. It’s terrible, actually.”

The safety of the gun is switched and it’s put in his holster. He turns to you.

“They wanted to call you ‘Freakshow’ but after a word with them I don’t think they will.”

At the name, he tensed. You were too far away to give him anything more than a sympathetic shake of the head.

“I could probably come up with a new one for you? I’m not the best with names but with a bar as low as the one they set I can come up with something.”

A foreign sound escaped the man. A rush if air through his throat, a wheeze, before it sent his shoulders hitching repeatedly. A chuckle. You looked on in surprise, he was laughing.

Offering a small smile back you said you’ll get back to him in a few minutes as you returned to your aisle beside him. Wanting something to occupy your fingers as you pondered, you instinctively pulled out your phone and went to your texts. A casual reply back to Nikto wouldn’t hurt. You could probably just ask him some funny Russian nicknames to give your ally. Maybe you could name him after a masked hero or villain?

Satisfied with the text you wanted to send to Nikto, you hit send.

Ding!

Your head jolted to the thin barrier between the booths. That sound didn’t come from your phone. Never had such a small sound set your heart ablaze but your blood go cold. Limbs like jelly, you haphazardly stumbled over to the booth next to you. The masked man, phone in hand. Upon turning on the screen to preview the message, his eyes went up to you and you almost doubled over at the contact. Those dark, clear eyes, so alarmed, so scared. Yours probably looked the same.

You wanted to open your mouth but no words came out. Save for one word that was on your tongue, one name. Why was it, when you’ve been waiting for him, you’re scared of saying the name?

“… Nikto…?”

The figure visibly deflated before squaring his shoulders, ready for confrontation.

“Seeker,” he greeted, and you can hear it now. You can hear that familiar earthy warmth in his voice, how it complimented and mixed so nicely with his accent. It was, however, dominated by the excessive air in his throat, making it scratchy and gravelly, near unrecognisable.

Your arms started to wrap around your torso, your mind racing.

“Brother Nikto is busy, he’s on field duty for the next few days.”

“Yes, new guy. Don’t have a name for him yet. Probably shouldn’t ask.”

“All he does is mope around in his room now.”

“Damn, you really are special to him.”

The man in front of you, seemed to know everything about you because he did. He’s been with you while you were waiting for him all these weeks.

And yet, instead of joy, your mind was only swarming with other emotions. Disappointment becoming dizzying as you failed to recognise him. Confusion as to why he didn’t try to let you know it was him. Betrayal tasted bitter on your mouth as he dared lie to you.

“I can not blame him, he clearly swam through shit’s creek and back.”

“Got that idea the instant we fished him out of Zhakaev’s compound. His face is fucked, not even a mother could love that.”

Ultimately it all boiled down to dread, as you try to merge the Nikto you bid farewell to all those weeks ago to the fully clad man standing before you.

“Oh my god,” you covered your mouth with your hand as you took in his figure. Had all this happened in the month you were gone? His body and face so battered and bruised beyond recognition that not even you recognised him? Every artificial ridge on his skin told a horrifying story that you have not read yet, and frankly you’re not sure you can even stomach it.

Nikto must’ve taken your response as disgust, and he bowed his head down.

“I…” he couldn’t find the right words to say. Every syllable he spoke stabbed your heart, you remembered how effortless and smooth his voice once was.

“Mission with Zhakaev…” Nikto’s throat gave way with every phrase, ending with hacks and wheezes. You lifted a tentative hand up, telling him he didn’t need to force himself to speak but he persevered. “Went undercover, was found out, tortured for-”

The words were stuck in his throat. He shook his head negatively, as he ended up turning away from you.

“I have failed.”

You rushed to Nikto and pulled him into your arms. He let out a gutteral sound of surprise. You realised a little too late he was never one for affection, but eventually you felt his arms against your back and waist. His hold was still too light, as if he was afraid of your comfort. You placed a hand to the back of his head, gently guiding it to settle in the nook of your neck.

“No. You’re back here. That’s success to me.”

He didn’t reply. You knew it would be hard for him to agree with your views. Anything less than efficient on the battlefield should be chastised - and that included himself. The hand you threaded through his dry and charred locks started combing his hair gently, careful not to pull any strands.

“Still… I… I don’t understand. The others told me you were on a mission. Were they in on it too?”

“Yes,” Nikto mumbled, his voice making his mask vibrate and tickle against your neck. “They would not lie to you. I had to beg.”

“But why?”

His hold on you tightens, the curve of his mask digging deeper into your neck.

“Shame, for how I have changed. Fear, for what you’d think once you saw me.”

“Then… why did I keep seeing you around?”

“Selfishness,” he confessed. “I wanted to avoid you, but I yearned. Needed to see you again. It was a long month, without you.”

The hurt in your heart spread to the rest of your chest and stomach, birthing butterflies that made you feel nauseous. You could not comprehend how difficult his last month had been. To be stuck suffering in enemy territory, found on the brink of death and to recover all alone. How hurt had he been that he thought you would not want him around?

“Do you really think I’d care about your appearance?”

“No, but look,” he choked, but he doesn’t even pull back to let you do so. Instead his arms become constricting like a weighted blanket, there’s more resistance as you try to breathe in. As you breathe out he inches a little closer, refusing to let there be any space between you. “This face, this body, this mind… is destroyed. What was rescued… was not the same, as the man that was captured.”

“Nikto-”

“All that remains,” he muttered, “is shame.”

“But you’ve done so much-“

“I have failed,” he repeated.

“You risked your life for valuable information-”

“We- no, I?” You can hear his frown as he tilts his head away to look down at his chest. Perhaps he expected there to be a hole where his heart was, a fragmented soul. “I am broken.”

“Andre Nikto,” you commanded, dragging him out of his train of thought. You mustered the strength to push away from him. Taking his hand that was wrapped around your waist, you gingerly picked it up, and brought it between you. Bringing his attention to your intertwined hands, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. And then again. Slowly, just enough pressure to ground him and keep his focus on you and not on whatever demons were running amok in his mind. Your next words were steady, well-paced, ensuring he understood every syllable.

“Look at me. I don’t care how much you have changed while I was away. I am just happy I can see you again and I will always want to see you again.”

“You-“ he continues to shake his head in disagreement. “You deserve… so much more. My worth… there is none here. Only as cannon fodder on the field.”

“No, you are so unbelievably strong.”

You brought your other hand to cup his face. Initially you could only feel the coolness of the mask, but after a few seconds his body heat reached your palm.

“I admired you then and I admire you now. Nikto… if only you could see yourself how I see you. I want to stand by your side.”

Nikto is silent as he stares you down. You’ve seen him do it before, in arguments, in interrogations. It’s his go-to tactic to intimidate, to break. But now, it is his final resort. With eyes as piercing as his, seemingly able to peer into someone’s soul, his silent staring has always been able to ruin anyone’s resolve. But you weren’t just anyone. You are someone who fell in love under that intense gaze, and you communicate that as you refuse to look away.

Eventually he lets out a breath as he breaks eye contact, deciding to settle his gaze on the rest of your figure. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him almost bashful, it was endearing.

“You are always… so stubborn.”

“I accept all of you,” you cooed before you hardened your voice. “But if you pull a stunt on me like that again - pretending you’re not around and prancing around as someone else - I will claim this shooting aisle as mine.”

Nikto’s eyes turn into crescents, crinkling as he grins. Watching his textured skin warp and wrinkle has you worried that even smiling hurts, but you can’t deny that he looks at ease.

“A fair deal,” he affirms.

Now knowing you weren’t going to run away from him, Nikto is comfortable enough to let you go, and you loosened your grip on his hand. But before his hands properly drop to his sides, you reach over and place a kiss on his mask. You hoped it was somewhat romantic, but it didn’t help how the smoothness of his mask made your lips slip a little. Your aim was a little off too, you aimed for where his mouth would be but it seems you kissed him more on the philtrum.

Still, the wide eyed look was one you have never seen on Nikto before and you were going to savour that for all of eternity.

“You came here to shoot, yes?” Nikto asked when he got himself out of his stupor and you nodded. “There is less on the mind now. Take the booth.”

“What, and you’ll just watch?”

“As always,” he replied, eyes shining with mirth.

Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #nikto x reader #mwii nikto #cod nikto #call of duty fanfic #/*avery actually writes*/

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suuuupernovaaa · 1 year

Text

muntxa si

MUNTXA SI: (english) to mate with, marry

(Adult) Neteyam vehemently opposes his human mate becoming Na’vi, for fear of losing her.

This story makes many assumptions - just go with them to enjoy the ride.

2,247 words.

The strength with which Neteyam opposed the idea, right from the very start, was a shock to everyone who knew him. When his mother first mentioned it, she saw a familiar fury in his eyes, one she knew she’d worn many times.

His brother nearly lost his head when he brought it up, and his father hadn’t even tried to broach the subject.

What he didn’t know was that they weren’t bringing it up of their own accord, though it was something they’d thought about before. They were bringing it up because I had brought it up to them first.

I was the only one who wasn’t shocked by his reaction. I knew that all Neteyam would see was the danger and risk involved, and there was nothing more detestable to Neteyam than putting me in harm’s way. This was a sometimes annoying but mostly reassuring trait of his, especially given that, as a human living on Pandora, danger was lurking around nearly every corner for me. Ewya had blessed me with a strong and capable - but slightly overbearing - protector.

After weeks of his family telling me it was me who would have to convince him, I finally plucked up the courage.

We sat in our Mauri pod, late at night, and the words spilled out of my mouth before I could fully control them.

“I want to become Na’vi. Norm has an Avatar for me, he’s been hiding it since I was little, and he told me on my 20th birthday. It’s fully mature now.”

Neteyam sat at the edge of our pod, his legs dangling over the edge and into the water, and he spun around so fast that his braids smacked the wall of the Mauri.

His eyes narrowed and he lowered his chin. “No.”

Taking a deep breath beneath my mask, I stood up. “You don’t get to decide for me, Teyam. I have decided, and I know the clan will support me.”

“No!” He was standing too now, towering over me at nearly twice my height, but he could never scare or intimate me, even if he truly tried.

“Listen to me, Neteyam. You are only thinking of the risk involved, and not the reward. I can’t survive here forever, as one of the last humans. What if the air tanks run out? How will we live our lives together, with me in this human body? Have you considered the fact that your lifespan is twice mine? What will you do when I am too old, even, to run and swim? I won’t live like that, Neteyam!”

I felt hot tears in my eyes, and tried to blink them away in frustration. “You can’t force me to live a half-life with you when a full life is within my grasp! I know Ewya will give this to me. She wouldn’t have brought me to you if she didn’t want us to be together.”

Neteyam’s hands rested on my shoulders, enveloping me, stressing to the both of us our impractical size difference.

“Y/N... you don’t know that she will give this to us. She may take you home to her.”

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the panic I could see in his face.

“I have to do this, Neteyam. We won’t have a future together if I don’t. Norm and the others... they talk about having to leave, without a permanent colony here. Their supplies won’t last forever. They would either take me, or leave me here to die with no oxygen.”

Neteyam pulled me down, so we were sitting face to face, our legs crossed.

“I cannot lose you, Y/N.”

“This is our best chance, Neteyam. Please. Please let me do this.”

As much as I had been pretending it was only my choice, and I didn’t need his permission, I knew I couldn’t do it without his blessing. That just wasn’t something I could do to Ma Teyam.

I watched his chest rise and fall with deep breaths as he contemplated.

“We will do this, Y/N, and if Ewya takes you, I will follow you to her myself and bring you back.”

It took time to plan - time that was exciting for all of us. We decided to fly back to the Tree of Souls to give my human body the best chance, since with the Metkayina, the ceremony would have to take place under water.

The Omatikaya welcomed the Sullys, and one sky person, back with open arms. After all, it wasn’t as if I was a stranger to them - I had many friends to greet, as well.

The ceremony was set for the night after our return. Neteyam was quiet at dinner, and his mother watched him cautiously.

“Son,” she said, handing him a plate, “I see the spirit within Y/N. It reminds me of your father - strong, stubborn, a little frustrating.” She smiled, but Neteyam couldn’t bring himself to follow suit. “She will be okay.”

She gripped her son’s arm and he nodded, but the sinking feeling in his chest was there to stay, until the ceremony was complete.

Neteyam walked with me, hand and hand, through the large crowd there to witness my birth - or my funeral.

I could feel the tension radiating through his body, but no matter what I said, I wasn’t able to ease it for him. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, myself.

There she lay - me, but not me. Tall, with long, thick black hair and eyes that would surely be a piercing gold when opened. She was beautiful; it was the first I was seeing her.

“Oh, Neteyam...” I said, a lump in my throat, and gripped his arm tightly as we approached the tree.

He placed his hand over mine. “You can still change your mind,” he said, but with a sly smile, the first I’d seen him wear in a while - he knew there was little chance of that.

He lifted me up and placed me next to my new body, where the spiritual leader of the Omatikaya waited, a serene and focused look on her face.

She gestured for me to lay down, and I turned to Neteyam. Maybe it was the proximity to the Tree of Souls, but I felt a calm - and tried to convey it to Neteyam with a smile. His family stood behind him, taking their seats to join the ceremony. Neteyam would stay with me until it was done.

He nodded, and I could practically see his heart beating through his chest as he helped me to lay down, my head inches from my avatar’s.

“You will sleep now. Be calm,” a voice above me said, and I had only time to tell Neteyam I loved him before I sank away.

Watching her eyes close, a panic gripped Neteyam’s heart and he felt as if he could vomit in front of the entire clan.

He turned and sought his mother, and would have been embarrassed to do so in any other situation. She was seated between his brother and father, all holding hands with eyes closed, chanting to Ewya.

He watched as Ewya reached up, covering his mate in feather light touches, and he put his hands on her, praying to Ewya, reminding Ewya how much this human woman meant to him.

Silently, he told Ewya of the first time they’d met, at only six years old, and of their first kiss at 12, how she fought with him through the Great War despite her size, how long it took him to work up the courage to ask her to be his mate, and how they cried together when she said yes.

This woman is my life, Great Mother, he prayed, I ask that you return her to me in either body here, and we will make the most of this life we have together.

Every minute felt like an hour, and then the Tsahik reached over and pulled the mask off of his love’s face.

She was gone, at least from this form.

“She is passing through Ewya now, Neteyam, and you must guide her back,” the Tsahik said.

He leapt carefully over to her avatar body, taking it in for the first time. Those were her lips, the shape of her eyes, the sharp dip between her nose and mouth - all his favorite things about her, right here.

“Yawne,” he said, reaching out to touch her soft face, “can you hear me? Follow my voice. Come back to me so that we may return home together, and live the life you promised me.”

He looked to the Tsahik, who nodded in encouragement and resumed chanting. The cries of the clan rose around him, his father and mother’s the loudest, and he steadied his shaking body with a deep breath.

“Y/N, Yawne, hear my voice and follow it. I will wait for you forever - remember the promise I made. Do not deliver two souls to Ewya this day.”

He nearly shot back when the woman before him took a gasping breath, and amber eyes shot open.

It’s impossible to describe how it happens. It’s not a wordly experience, and there are no words to properly convey it.

Ewya is real, and she gave me a second chance at life.

Neteyam’s face hovered inches above mine as I gasped for air. He slipped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me up, and even in this new body, in my disoriented state, I was acutely aware that I was naked.

“Yawne,” Neteyam whispered, and I saw the tears spilling from his eyes. He only called me Yawne - beloved - once before, when he asked me to be his mate.

“Tiyawn,” I replied, my voice breathy and almost foreign to my ears. My ears! I reached up, trailing my hand over my thick hair and reaching up to feel the pointy, blue ears atop my head. A giggle escaped before I could stop it.

“Can you stand?” he asked, gripping my arms.

I leaned into him. “I am naked.”

“You are Na’vi now,” he replied with almost a shrug, “but I will carry you if it concerns you.”

“I think you should, my legs feel weak.”

They felt strong. My entire body felt strong, and I couldn’t wait to learn how to use it.

I glanced over my shoulder to see myself. My former self. As Neteyam lifted me into his arms and stood up, I thought I should cry for her... but she didn’t feel like me, not anymore.

The clan cheered and whooped, hollered and threw their arms triumphant in the air, as Neteyam stood with me and let out what sounded like a war cry, shaking me in his arms.

The joy in his face was like nothing I had ever seen before. It was beautiful, especially seen through these new eyes.

He rushed through the crowd, to his Ikran, and mounted in one fell swoop with me in his arms.

The Ikran felt so much smaller than she had when we’d arrived less than an hour ago, but of course, I was the one who had grown over three feet.

He took off, holding the saddle with one arm and me tightly in the other, to a place we could be alone.

Back at our temporary home, I was finally able to take a breath and try my new body out. For my first few steps, I had to hold Neteyam’s hands, until I got the hang of it.

I felt weak, but I knew that would wear off. This body was strong, and I was going to make it even stronger, so I could finally keep up with Neteyam.

The thought made me burst into tears as he searched through his mother’s things for something I could wear.

“What is it, Y/N? Do you hurt?” he asked, rushing to my side with only a necklace in his hands.

Embarrassed, I tried to wave him off, but he was too on edge. “Tell me, Yawne. Tell me what you need.”

I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him tightly to me. My face rested perfectly on his chest, where before, it was just over his waist - making hugging an awkward feat. We fit perfectly together now, and it made me cry even harder.

“I’m just so happy and grateful, Neteyam.” I pulled back, wiping at my tears. “Tell me what you think.”

“What I think?” he asked, turning his head to the side.

“Of... me. Of my body. Do you still, I mean, do you like it?”

His gaze softened and he reached up to cup my cheek. “I have loved you for 15 years, Y/N. I loved you human form. Your small body, your beautiful soft hair, and your light eyes. I loved every moment of our life together.”

The tears threatened to return.

“But this... this is my dream, Y/N. I see it now, what you’ve always seen. You were meant to be one of The People, to be with me, to be the mother of my children and my mate for life.”

A smile spread across my new face so wide, I thought it might crack. “I love you, Neteyam.”

He pulled me into his strong arms, and we took a deep breath together.

“Forever,” he whispered in my ear.

I squeezed him tight. “Forever.”

#avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam #avatar way of the water #neteyam x reader

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tallulah477 · 5 months

Text

Front Row Seat

Part 2 of Private Show

Kinktober Day 25: Caught Masterbating

Pairing: Lo'ak x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Lo’ak, Masterbating, Caught masterbating, Mutual masterbation, Oral (female receiving), Cumming untouched (kinda . . . Lo’ak cums from the smallest of touches), Size Difference, Dom reader, Sub Lo’ak, Slight edging/orgasm delay, Lo’ak being so gone for reader it’s actually embarrassing, He’s such a simp and so in love, Obsessive behavior, Brief mention of panic / panic attack, One mention of dismemberment

A/N: Honestly, idk how this got so long lol

Word Count: 4.9K

Summary: Lo'ak's been avoiding you ever since the incident. But you're looking for him, and you want your own private show . . . with a front row seat.

Translations:

Tewng - Loincloth

Tsahìk - Spiritual Leader

Iknimaya - Na'vi Rite of Passage

Olo’eyktan - Clan Leader

Swoasey - Kava bowl (constructed from seed pods, used for drinking intoxicating beverages), handsized

Yawne - Beloved

Lo’ak feels like his heart is going to pound right out of his chest.

He can feel the panic setting in as he paces the length of the hut. He can’t believe that happened. How could he be so stupid?

You saw him.

You saw him - you know what he’s been doing. Know how he’s been creeping on you, watching you through your window at night when you’re supposed to be alone. Know that he’s seen you dance in your room, twirling around as the music moves through you, naked and carefree as the day you were born.

You know that he’s seen you touch yourself . . . and has touched himself to the sight in return.

His hands fly up to cover his face, the cool skin of his hands doing nothing to calm the fire blazing on his cheeks as he groans in distress.

Neteyam looks over at him from where he’s kneeling and carving some new arrows for his bow, hairless brows furrowed in worry. “Are you okay?”

Lo’ak groans again, muffled by the hard press of his palms before he rips his hands away. “No, bro. I’m not okay. I’m so far from okay,”

“What did you do?”

“Fucked up,” Lo’ak grunts and crosses his arms across his chest, just to do something with them. “I fucked up bad.”

Neteyam just continues to look at him, waiting for him to continue with a slight arch of his brow.

“So, I watch y/n through her window at night sometimes . . .”

“Oh, Great Mother,”

“Shut up! I know,” Lo’ak snaps, hands flying back up to cover his face. “I know. But she caught me. She caught me, bro! What the fuck do I do?”

There’s a pause of silence before Neteyam bursts out laughing, earning a frustrated hiss from Lo’ak and two solid middle fingers.

“You’re not fucking helping,” Lo’ak growls.

“How am I supposed to help you?” Neteyam asks, still trying to stifle his mirth. “You’re fucked, brother. You messed up and now you’re going to have to reap the consequences of your actions.”

“She’s going to kill me! She’s already looking for me. I heard her asking Kiri if she knew where I was,”

Neteyam shrugs. “Just get it over with. Apologize to her. Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think,”

Lo’ak bites his lip, pressure building in his chest as he thinks of all the ways this could go so bad.

What if you told Kiri what he did? Neteyam can laugh it off because he’s got his own little obsession going on with another Na’vi girl, so he understands the desperate need to constantly see her and be around her. Kiri, on the other hand - she’s a girl. She wouldn’t understand. She’d feel violated, angry at a fellow female being objectified and put in a compromising position. She’d never look at him the same way.

Or what if you told his dad? Jake would be so upset with him. He would be even more of a disappointment to his father than he already is.

“Can you just,” Lo’ak grits out through clenched teeth. “Can you just help me?”

“Maybe you can just say you were out for a walk and thought you heard something?” Neteyam tries, going back to his carving. “You just wanted to make sure everything was okay, right? No harm done. Sounds believable,”

“I was, uh- touching myself . . . when she caught me,”

“Yeah, but that window is higher up, right? So she only saw your face?”

Lo’ak grimaces, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Yeah, but– I left my tewng there though,”

Neteyam stops his carving and stares at Lo’ak, deadpan expression covering his face. “You can’t be helped,”

Lo’ak avoids you as best as he can, but it’s hard.

You’re everywhere all of a sudden. Helping his grandmother in the Tsahìk’s tent, assisting the cooks with skinning and cutting the various meats and fruits for the communal last meal, even offering to watch Tuk a couple of times (which gave Lo’ak the scare of his life when he was about to enter his family’s tent only to hear your sweet voice giggle from inside it).

He’s trying his best to stay away, purposefully taking the long way around where he knows you’ll be just to avoid you seeing him. He avoids dinner a few times, feigning illness. And when he is at dinner, he makes sure to stay close to his family who he’s hopeful can act as a buffer between him and the knife you’re sure to use when you try to dismember him.

But he can’t stay away for long. The constant need to be around you is too much. He needs to see you, to hear your beautiful voice and experience the way the world is just brighter, happier, better when you’re around. Before he was able to just exist in your presence, never really the center of your attention, but sometimes he was blessed enough to have your eyes locked on his for a few seconds, blunt teeth grinning up at him as your plump lips wrapped around the words ‘Hi, Lo’ak,”.

And it was enough - enough interaction for him to be able to go back to his family’s hut, slide the privacy curtain shut in his alcove and shove his hand in his tewng, thinking about your pretty smile and your soft voice saying his name as he fists his cock like an animal. Your words, a never ending mantra of Hi, Lo’ak, echoing in his ears as he ruts into his hand faster, whining and moaning as he fucks his fist, his own whimpers of ‘fuck’ and ‘hi’ filling the alcove as he prays to Eywa that no one else is home to hear his shame.

He can’t not be around you. He needs you, needs you like he needs air in his lungs to breathe. So, this whole avoiding you thing? It’s not working for him. He can’t go on like this - can’t keep creeping around his own village, hiding behind huts and trees, and trying to move stealthily among his fellow clan members in hopes that you won’t see him. He wants you to see him - wants your beautiful, shining eyes looking up at him. He wants to stare back into their depths as you tell him those three words he longs to hear, and have them actually be the meaning he hopes for and not just ‘I see you . . . looking at me through my window’.

He makes it about a week before things hit the fan.

Tonight is night for celebration - three new members of the clan have been reborn, joining the rank of Warriors and becoming one of The People after successfully completing their iknimaya. The celebration is grand, music and dancing fill the center of the village as the clan celebrates the success of their young members. As the son of the Olo’eyktan and a fellow warrior himself, Lo’ak is required to attend.

He knows you see him. He’s already impossible to miss, standing next to his father who is wearing his feathered, ceremonial attire - but for the first time that week, you’re not actively trying to get to him. Instead, it’s almost like you’re back in your room, by yourself, and unknowingly giving him a private dance just for him.

Lo’ak watches you from across the fire as you dance in the flickering orange glow of the flames. Your small body moves in time with the beat of the song, hips swaying as you copy the movements of the Na’vi around you, and Lo’ak can’t help the way his heart pounds at the sight of you dancing to the traditional songs of his people.

His mouth goes dry as the song turns you to the side and raises your arms up high over your head, granting him the sight of the entire length of your body all stretched out and on display. You're dressed in traditional Omatikaya clothes, the band of the tewng wrapped low around your hips, the extra length of the string dragging almost hypnotically across your thigh with each movement. Kiri must have helped you with the top, the beadwork into carefully draped feathering looks similar to hers, and the feathers fall perfectly over your just barely concealed breasts.

Lo’ak’s eyes follow the tempting swell at the side of your chest, down the soft looking skin of your ribs and onto the seductive swing of your hips. And he wants. Wants so badly to kneel in front of you, grab your swaying hips in his big hands and drag you closer so he can feel the movement under his fingertips. But then your body turns to the other side and his eyes fall to the piece of fabric you have tucked under the band of your tewng. A very familiar piece of blue fabric - and a feeling of horror washes over him as he realizes you have his lost tewng nestled tightly against your hip.

His eyes snap back to your face and he chokes on air when he finds you staring back, your own eyes, even hidden behind the glass of your mask, are intense and piercing in the flickering glow of the fire as you stare him down, never breaking your dance. Lo’ak shuffles back, accidentally bumping into Neteyam in his haste to get away from your unrelenting gaze, and Neteyam hisses as his swoasey is jostled, spilling a good bit of its contents on the ground and his feet.

“What the fu–”

“Sorry! Shit, I’m–” Lo’ak stutters, eyes flickering between Neteyam’s irritated glare and your smirking figure. “Sorry, bro. I gotta go,”

He doesn’t give Neteyam a chance to answer before he’s turning and making a beeline for his family’s hut with his tail tucked between his legs.

He makes it to the hut in record time, throwing open the thick front flaps and crossing the main living area with only a few long strides. He enters his alcove, scrubbing his hands over his face with a loud groan. Fuck! What is he supposed to do? You have his tewng - you were looking right at him, you wanted him to know you had it. He should be terrified, should be on his knees begging you for forgiveness, to have mercy on him and keep quiet about his transgressions and promise that he will leave you alone forever.

But instead, his body feels hot, panic somehow ebbing away into desire. There has to be something wrong with his brain, this is not a normal reaction to the situation - but his body disagrees as he starts to harden in his tewng.

You looked so beautiful dancing in front of the fire, like a goddess sent to him by Eywa herself. The way you looked in Na’vi clothing, the small, barely there traditional clothing of his people hanging onto your body like the worst kind of temptation. The band of the tewng hanging low on your hips, the curve of your ass peeking out from the back flap of material. That’s wrong, his brain says. Tewngs shouldn’t have a cover in the back like that. Traditional tewngs only have the front cover, so you should remove yours - if only to be correct in your Na’vi wear and bare your perfect ass for him to see instead of just the tease of it.

He’s seen you in less, of course - but he’s never seen you bare so much skin purposefully before. His hands leave his face, balling into fists at his sides for a moment as he grinds his teeth together before he turns and snaps the privacy curtain shut to his alcove. His fingers work at the knots on his tewng, pulling it off and throwing it across the room as he lies down on his sleeping mat.

Lo’ak’s hand slides down his stomach, breathing already labored as he wraps his hand around his cock. His eyes slip shut as he starts to stroke, visions of you immediately manifesting behind his dark lids. Images of you, on your knees, crawling towards him as he strokes himself - desire darkening your eyes as you watch him with hooded lids as you crawl closer. He whines as he watches you get closer and closer, focusing on your gorgeous face as you bite your lip, how the woven armband adorned with pretty purple beads hugs your bicep, and how your thighs and ass moves seductively with each forward movement just perfect enough to put him in a trance.

The vision of you stops just in front of him, kneeling up and pulling his lost tewng from underneath your band. It must be so warm, having been pressed against your hip the entire celebration - warmed up with your body heat, pressed against your soft skin and covered in your scent.

“This yours?” You say, slowly dragging the blue material across the top of your thighs, and Lo’ak moans, stroking himself faster as he watches you tease your skin with his tewng.

You slide the material over your belly, letting it tickle your skin as you trail it up your ribs. “How many times have you cum in this very loincloth while thinking about me, hm?” You say, sliding the material higher until part of it disappears under the feathers of your top, nudging the bottom of your breast. “Lo’ak?”

He groans, feet planting on the ground as his hips start to kick up, fucking into his fist. His breath catches in his throat when you drop his tewng and lean over him, arms on either side of his head, maskless face just inches away from his - lips just a breath away from his own. “Lo’ak,”

“Hah-y/n,” He moans, and he wants you to kiss him, wants this to be real so badly so you can kiss him. Just a little more . . . c'mon, just a little more.

“Lo’ak!”

His eyes snap open at the call, the very real call that’s coming from the entrance of his alcove and panic claws inside his throat at the sight of you just standing there, eyebrows raised in surprise, one hand still holding open the privacy curtain.

It takes his brain a few seconds to catch up with reality, but when it does he hisses out a curse, scrambling into a seated position, hands desperately trying to cover himself despite the whole eyefull you’re also still recovering from. You recover faster than he does though, and you step into the room, letting the curtain fall closed again behind you.

“I brought you this,” You say, pulling the extra blue tewng from your hip and tossing it towards Lo’ak. He makes no attempt to catch it, hands still trying to cover his unaffected, throbbing erection, and the material flutters to the ground at his side. “You left it at the lab when you . . . you know.”

Your eyes rake over his naked form and your hands find a place on your hips. “You seemed like you were having a lot of fun. Who were you thinking about?”

The knowing tone of your voice makes the tips of Lo’ak’s ears burn as they press against his head.

“You thinking about me, Lo’ak?”

The sound he lets out doesn’t have a meaning - just a short, stifled sound of embarrassment as he tries to force out something. Anything. But the only thing he can manage is a way to quiet and stuttered version of “S-sorry,”

You smirk at his apology, pretty lips curling into a wicked grin as you hum noncommittally. He watches with wide eyes as you saunter around his room, peeking in his personal areas as if you had a right to be there, before you turn and lean back against the wall in front of him.

“Don’t be sorry,” You say, arms crossing over your chest. “Be even,”

Lo’ak’s brows scrunch up, his ears flickering slightly in confusion. “W-what?”

“Be. Even.” You repeat. “You got a private show who knows how many times. Now I want one, with my own front row seat. It’s only fair,”

Lo’ak’s head is spinning. You can’t possibly be saying what he thinks you're saying. You want him to . . . touch himself? With you watching?

“What’s wrong, Lo?” You ask, your voice mocking as you pout at him. “You get off on watching, but not being watched?”

“I just– I-I don’t,”

“Hey,” You interrupt, expression switching from teasing to sincere in a second. “Just relax, okay? Just keep doing what you were doing. Show off for me a little,”

Lo’ak’s breathing is shaky as he steels himself, slowly lowering himself to lie back on the mat. One of his hands moves to uncover himself, balling into a nervous fist against his sternum. His other hand wraps around his cock again, long fingers encircling the thick, hard length as his eyes stay glued to your watching form.

Your eyes watch hungrily as he gives himself an uncertain stroke, the pretty lavender tip of his cock disappearing under his fist before reappearing again as he holds himself at the base. Your back slides down the wall as you lower yourself to the floor, your legs crossed in front of you as you lean forward for a closer look.

“Keep going,”

Your demand comes out firm, soft voice caressing his eardrums as the demand goes straight to his cock. His eyes stay locked on your face as he strokes himself again and again, a needy whine threatening to burst from his throat as he watches you watch him. He wishes you could get rid of the mask so he can see your face more clearly, but even slightly obstructed with the glass of the mask, he can see the desire written all over it.

You desire him. You desire him? The knowledge takes the air from his lungs as he fists his cock faster. He pulls away for a moment so he can spit in his hand and he watches as your eyes follow the movement when he wraps his wet fingers around his cock again, smearing the wetness along the heated skin.

“Yeah, baby. Get it all wet for me,” Your hands make their way to your top, fingers playing with the feathers there. “You want a little more motivation?”

Lo’ak’s hand pauses on his cock as he watches in awe as you push some of the feathers of your top to the side, perfect round breasts suddenly on display for his eager eyes. It’s a beautiful sight - the look of your perky tits framed by colorful feathers, a few rogue feathers hanging between the valley of your breasts.

“Ah, ah,” You tisk. “I didn’t say stop.”

He gulps as he starts up his pace again, his fist twisting over the sensitive tip on each upstroke. His quiet moans and groans are like music to your ears, and you wish he would be louder so your human ears can pick up on them better. You want the sounds of his pleasure to fill up the room. You bet he would be so vocal if he would just let himself go.

“Don’t hide your noises,” You tell him. “They’re so pretty, Lo. Be louder for me. They make me so wet,”

His responding whimper is significantly louder and more desperate as he watches you spread your thighs. You flip the front flap of your tewng over your thigh to keep it out of the way and pull the privacy cover to the side. Lo’ak’s mouth waters at the sight. You weren’t lying - you are wet. He can see the way your folds glisten even from across the small room.

“Y/n,” He moans, and his cock throbs in his grip.

“You like what you see, yawne?”

The use of the Na’vi term of endearment makes his heart pound, and his stomach tightens as he feels the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching. Your fingers dip down into your wetness, sliding along your dripping slit before dipping inside and circling your clit. You’re so wet already that Lo’ak’s able to pick up on the squelching sounds your juices make, ears twitching as your fingers rub against the pulsing nub. Slowly, you run your fingers back down your slit, circling your entrance before pushing inside.

Lo’ak bites out a curse as the squelching sounds get louder, and he spits in his palm again to add it to the mess of precum on his cock just to make it extra wet so he can imagine it’s your pretty cunt he’s thrusting into and not his fist. His hips jerk, trying to fuck his hand faster, and the pressure in his belly is building and building, threatening to snap at any second as he watches you fuck yourself with your fingers, enraptured.

“You close, Lo’ak?” You ask, breathy.

“Mhm,” He moans. “So close. Going to cum,”

At his admission, you pull your fingers out, curling a wet finger at him in a come-hither motion. “Nuh-uh, not yet. Come here,”

He whines at your words, his body mourning the loss of stimulation as he pauses his hand on his cock. He doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to stop, but can’t find it in himself to disobey your order. What if you make him stop completely? What if this was just a huge game of payback and you don’t let him cum at all?

You raise your eyebrow at his hesitance, voice low and seductive as you say, “Don’t you wanna taste me first?”

He should be embarrassed by how quickly he rips his hand away and scrambles onto his hands and knees as he gapes at you, desperate. “Please! Y/n, please,”

“Come here,” You say again, and this time, Lo’ak doesn’t hesitate.

He crawls across the room and is in front of you in a second, and you stand up from the floor as he settles on his heels in front of you. In this position, the size difference is stark. Even sitting back on his heels, he still towers over you. His breathing is heavy as he stares down at you, amber eyes swallowed up by the bottomless pits of his pupils.

“You can touch me,” You whisper, and he feels something snap inside him.

He leans down, pressing hot kisses against the side of your neck. You hum at the feeling of his lips on your skin. His warm tongue slides against your skin, savoring the taste of you on his taste buds as he licks across your collarbone and, oh, Great Mother, you taste so much better than he’d ever imagined. He breaks contact just for a moment to skip over the places that your top is still covering, mouth latching onto the top of your breast as he bites down lightly on the supple skin, canines digging into the round flesh as you gasp, and then soothing the marks with a gentle kiss.

“Lo’ak,” You say, your small hand caressing his jaw and angling his face up towards yours. “That’s not where I meant.”

He groans, stealing a quick kiss at your nipple just to feel it before he hauls you up high against the wall. He has you spread out in front of him, one tip-toed foot planted on his thigh for balance while your other leg is thrown over his shoulder. His hands shake from where they’re gripping on to your thigh and calf, nervous excitement ripping through him as he breathes in the smell of your arousal. You look like a goddess above him, a creation so beautiful that sometimes he wonders if he’s actually crazy and he just made you up in his head. But you’re here, above him, spread out for him like the most mouthwatering feast - and he wants to devour you.

One of your hands cradles the side of his head, sweeping the stray braids away from in front of his eyes, while the other adjusts your tewng and pulls the privacy cover to the side again. Immediately, he digs in - tongue lapping at your soaked folds like a man starved. You taste so sweet, like the most delicious treat, and Lo’ak’s eyes roll back into his head as he greedily gulps down your juices. His tongue flicks against your clit before he wraps his lips around the swollen bud, sucking harshly and returning your high pitched moans with a groan of his own.

“Yes, yes,” You cry. “Feels so good, Lo! So good,”

Your hand moves from the side of his face to fist into the loose braids at the back of his head, beads clanking together as you twist them around your fingers, holding his head against your core as if he would ever dare pull away. His cock throbs, needy and forgotten as it hangs between his thighs. He can feel how precum drips from its tip, beading up on the head before it becomes too much and runs down the underside of his cock.

The hand on your calf wraps around his aching length instead, stroking quick and rough as he digs his face into your pussy. But all too soon you’re pulling his head away, grip firm on his braids as he’s reluctantly pulled away from your core, and he whines in dismay when you maneuver yourself back down to the floor.

“Relax,” You giggle, laughing at his forlorn expression. “I’ll give it back. Lie down,” You press your hand to his shoulder, guiding him to lay back on the floor as you kneel next to his head. “Keep being a good boy for me, okay?”

He nods frantically, eager to continue to please you. He’ll always be a good boy for you, the best boy. He’d do anything for you if you let him.

His breathing hitches when you toss your leg over him, thighs straddling his head, puffy pussy just a breath away from his face. His hands grip the tops of your thighs, pressing you down on him as his mouth impatiently latches back onto your core. Your own hands press against his flat stomach, balancing yourself on his body as you gaze out at the long expanse of toned muscled before you.

Lo’ak’s cock is hard and thick against his belly, precum oozing from the pretty lavender tip and into a puddle just below his belly button. You watch as it jumps occasionally, the line of precum connecting his cock to his stomach even as it lifts up slightly just to settle back down on his stomach.

You lean forward more, arm reaching out with fingers outstretched and Lo’ak whimpers loudly against your pussy when your fingers make contact with his neglected cock, the vibrations sending shivers through your body as you moan in response.

“You’re so big, Lo’ak,” You say, hips rocking on his face while your fingers trail lightly over the sticky, swollen head. It twitches against your fingers. “You’d stretch me out so good.”

He whines against your cunt, long fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as his feet plant themselves on the ground. His hips kick up, desperately trying to get more of your touch on his aching cock - but you stay teasing, just the brush of gentle fingertips as they trail up and down the heated length.

His tongue works against you faster, more and more desperate the more your tiny fingers tease his cock. He can feel the build up of his orgasm rapidly approaching again, and he twists his hips frantically as he wordlessly pleads against your cunt for you to touch him properly. He wants your tiny hand to wrap around his cock like he’s always dreamed about, wants to feel how your fingers can’t even wrap around him completely because you're so small.

But you don’t - instead your fingers make their way back up to the head, rubbing firm circles against the sensitive frenulum, and Lo’ak’s entire body tenses as his orgasm rips through him, rope after rope of release shooting onto his stomach as he cries against your folds.

You don’t give him anytime to recover, and he’s still shaking through the aftershocks when you hump faster against his face, using his mouth as your own personal toy as you chase after your own orgasm. Your back arches when it hits, thighs clamping down on either side of his head as you ride it out on his tongue, and he must have died at some point during this encounter - he must be dead, because the only way to describe how perfect this is, how amazing you taste when you cum - only this kind of euphoria can be found in whatever release of energy that Eywa promises at the end of life.

When your orgasm is over, you slowly lift off of Lo’ak’s face and settle down next to him on the floor. He’s still shivering and shaking as you both lay there. He’s exhausted, but his eyes stay open despite how much they want to close and sleep now. He doesn’t want to lose a second of this. What if he falls asleep and this was all just a dream?

But then you look over at him, beautiful and fucked out looking in your afterglow, and a wicked grin stretches across your face. “That was fun. You should come visit me at the lab again. But this time, come through the door this time, yeah?”

**Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @chaoticfaelle @nilsavatar @fandomhoe101 @anastasia1777-blog @localjasmine @tsewtx

#lunaskinktober2023 #lo'ak x female reader #lo'ak smut #lo'ak x human reader #lo'ak x reader #taliewrites

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