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#Outpost II
movies-ive-watched · 11 months
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Outpost: Black Sun (2012)
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airyairyaucontraire · 1 month
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Dani just told Ed to "make it so," and we obviously know Dani's a Star Trek fan (she could quote a Kirk speech with episode title and air date) so I feel confident that she was doing Picard and that pleases me.
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vivid-ink · 7 months
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"The Love Shack" Part II - Three is a Perfect Crowd
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Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)
Read Part I - The Proposition HERE
Story Summary: You’d heard the whispered speculations and stifled giggles during the daytimes. You’d seen the furtive glances that the other women cast at Neteyam and Lo’ak through coquettish eyes, cheeks stained a blushing mauve as they exchanged coy smiles with the two brothers. And during the nights? Hell, you’d heard the moans and wanton cries for yourself… You were definitely curious, but did you have it in you to go through with their proposition?...
Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI Word count: 7.9k Content: Mentions of group sex, MMF threesome, smut, sex toy play, squirting
Author's Note: Thank you to all of you who read, commented, reblogged, liked and asked to be tagged for Part II!
@teymars @eyweveng @leaveitbythewave @luvteyams @ @akiras-key @bajbr @questioningconstellationsstuff @reggiesslut @neteluvr @savvysscandles @dasaniix @emery-333 @vintaqestar @ @live-laugh-neteyam @itssomeonereading @strawberry-vamp0 @clairevoyanceee @delacruzyari @bluecooki3 @aalex561-blog @frustrated-kitten @innercreationflower @wolf12thsworld
Here is Part II and I warn ya, it's all filth. 🤭 Grab a glass of wine, a blanket, a towel, whatever you need... and enjoy!
***~~~***
Indecision wasn’t something you were accustomed to. You’d always prided yourself on making strong decisions both personally as well as professionally. It was one of the reasons you rose through the ranks to beat out all the other warriors to become Neteyam’s second-in-command. So, the fact that you’d spent majority of today vacillating in your decision to either go or not go to the outpost was an uncomfortable anomaly.
The conclusion of last meal earlier in the evening had brought with it a burning imperative for you to make your final decision and stick with it. You were dismayed to find that the urgency of the time didn’t help you one bit.
You’d trudged on shaky legs into the woodlands in the outpost’s general direction, before being overwhelmed with a severe case of cold feet. However, instead of turning and running for home, you’d plopped yourself down on some moss and begun whittling away at your half-finished spear from yesterday while you dithered further.
That was a couple of hours ago and it was getting late now.
The present found you parked in the woodland scrub just outside the old outpost with your finished spear in hand. The hesitant side of you hoped that maybe Neteyam and Lo’ak might have abandoned their proposition after your no-show, given the late hour. However, the lambent glow of the lamps inside the outpost shelter and the muffled sound of one of them laughing told you otherwise.
The curious side of you thrilled with anticipation at the unknown…
The brothers had done well to refurbish the abandoned outpost. It had been the central gathering place for the war council during the Long War with the sky people, and it had suffered severe damage during battle. The end of the Long War had been a long-awaited blessing and the outpost had been abandoned, its function no longer necessary and the memory of what it symbolised too painful for some to bear.
But Neteyam and Lo’ak had rebuilt the damaged settlement, renewing it with new textiles, new fibres and new designs. Apart from its core structure, it hardly even resembled the old war outpost anymore.
Approaching the outpost’s entrance where a set of draping cloths served to shield its interior from outside eyes, you steeled yourself under your breath, “Come on, just go and have a look. You can leave if it’s not your thing, like Neteyam said.”
You’d come this far… one peek wouldn’t hurt? If you were honest with yourself, the taste of Neteyam’s kiss had lingered on your lips and tongue all of last night, and it was your craving to experience it again that had brought you here.
Urging your feet forward, you were in process of reaching to part the cloths when they suddenly flew apart from before you as someone made to exit. You hissed, startled in alarm, instinctively lowering yourself into a defensive position with your spear pointed frontward.
“Argh! Holy shit!” Lo’ak exclaimed, stumbling backward in the face of the sharp weapon you were wielding, “Great Mother, who do you think you’re going to be spearing with that?!”
Immediately lowering your spear when it became apparent you were in no danger, you were quick to deliver a faltering apology, “Sorry, you gave me a fright!”
“I gave you a fright? Goddamn woman, I was just going to take a leak and I nearly pissed myself!”
“Sorry!”
The other side of the entry cloths parted to reveal Neteyam who had come to investigate. There a momentary flash of surprise on his face before one side of his mouth quirked upward in a wily grin that made your ears heat.
Recovered now from the scare you’d inflicted on him, Lo’ak shot a smug smirk at Neteyam and remarked at you, “You’re very late. Don’t have too much fun without me, I’ll be back.”
Neteyam stepped aside to allow you to enter while Lo’ak left to relieve himself. You padded on tentative feet into the outpost and you were astonished to find the space quite innocuous. The interior held all the usual furnishings that you’d expect in a living space; rugs, throws, cushions and soft mats; woven decorations hung from the upper framings of the outpost and a cosy-looking fire burned in a central hearth.
Your expression must have betrayed your thoughts as Neteyam broke the silence with a chuckle, “Not what you expected?”
“I didn’t know what to expect, to be honest.” That was mostly true, you didn’t have any specific expectations or imaginings of the place, you just hadn’t expected the space to look so normal.
From the salacious gossip that had run rampant amongst the women about their experiences here, as well as from your memory of the sensual cries you’d heard that one night you’d ventured near enough, you’d projected a more sordid atmosphere than the one you currently found yourself in.
“When you didn’t show soon after last meal, I figured you weren’t coming.” Neteyam breathed.
You turned to look at him properly for the first time this evening and you noticed his relaxed attire. You were used to seeing him in full warrior regalia, but tonight he was dressed simply, without his cummerbund, arm and leg guards, and no weapons. A beaded choker necklace adorned his neck and a woven armband hugged one of his impressive biceps, but apart from this and a purple loincloth, the rest of him was bare.
You could see so much of his skin… smooth and striped, and cerulean blue all over hard muscle…
“My curiosity evidently won out in the end.” You replied, attempting to tamp down the buzzing knot of nerves in your belly with a small smile at him.
“You can put this down.” Neteyam reached for your spear, prying it gently from your grasp and moving to set it against the nearest wall. His eyes glimmered warmly in the firelight, “No one will hurt you here.”
You nodded, rubbing your empty palms together with a deep breath. You began to circle the space, noticing that it was bigger than you initially thought as there were more cloth draperies that hung to the sides of the shelter that served to partition it off into different sections. Each section held more of the same comfortable furnishings, but the drapes clearly served the purpose of privacy.
Thankfully, as your curiosity increased, your nervousness decreased and you finally felt comfortable enough to ask, “So, what? The women come here and everyone just plays?”
A husky chortle from him, “If that’s what people want to do. Sometimes everyone just relaxes over some drinks and hangs out. Things don’t necessarily always escalate into more.”
You cast him a sceptical look, continuing on your exploration of the place, “And how often is it that sex and body play doesn’t end up on the agenda?” If gossip was to be believed, then you knew it wasn’t often at all that things stayed chaste.
When Neteyam didn’t respond, you turned to face him as he followed you and the wicked grin on his face confirmed that what you’d surmised was right. You rolled your eyes and he laughed.
“And what are these tawtute (human) things that all the women rave about? These tools that supposedly bring pleasure like nothing they’ve ever experienced before?” You queried, intentionally keeping your tone flippant despite the flagrantly sexual nature of your question.
Neteyam’s hot breath ghosted the nape of your neck and you realised he had walked right up to your back, “Come, I’ll show them to you.”
A warm, large hand enveloped one of yours and he led you over to another part of the shelter where a cloth-covered shape lay. Kneeling before it, Neteyam lifted the soft cloth to reveal an intricately designed chest woven from flax and colourful fibres. Undoing the leather snap at its front, he opened it to reveal a plush-lined inner in which sat a series of instruments in of varying shapes and materials you’d never seen before.
The colours of these instruments were also bright, unnaturally so. There were a myriad of shades and tones of colour that existed on Pandora, but the pinks, purples a blues you were looking at were very artificial. A bright blue tool caught your eye and unable to resist, you slowly reached to pick it up. It was smooth and long, and you could only just wrap a hand around the width of it. Its length was also slightly curved, tapering upward at the end.
Neteyam watched quietly as you picked through the various offerings in the chest, running your fingers over the smooth silicone of the toys. He fought to keep his composure as erotic thoughts of you using them began to assault him. You appeared rather intrigued by the blue g-spot vibrator you held, though he could tell by the slight frown on your face that you weren’t really sure what it was for.
“That’s an insertion toy. It goes inside you.” He informed, “And if you turn it on. It vibrates.”
Vibrates… You’d never heard that human word before and you didn’t know what it meant. You let Neteyam take the toy from you and he fiddled with something on its length before it came to life with a buzzing hum that made you jump.
Extending cautious fingers towards the humming toy, you touched its vibrating form before withdrawing your hand, “It tickles.”
“It feels good against you when it’s in the intended place.” Neteyam’s voice was slightly rough and you could smell the familiar musk from last night emanating from him again.
“Do they all go inside?” You asked, eyeing up the other oddly shaped toys, some of which did not look particularly comfortable to insert.
“Not all. This is a wand vibrator and it’s generally only for external use.” He picked up a purple toy, which had a longer handle and a large bulbous head at the end. Switching this one on, you noted that his one hummed even more aggressively than its blue predecessor.
“Whoa, straight into the toy box, are we?” Lo’ak had returned and his voice was a teasing drawl as he joined you and Neteyam, “Getting right down to business then.”
Ears flattening a little at the jibe, you harrumphed at Lo’ak, “I’m just looking.”
The few loose braids by his temple clacked as he laughed, “Oh, they’re not made for looking at, trust me.”
The bravado you’d found waned a bit with Lo’ak’s return, the reality of the situation seeping into you. Great Mother, were you really here discussing sexual implements with two men?... Were you seriously contemplating engaging in a sexual encounter with them?...
Standing up to put some distance between you and the two brothers, you dusted your knees off lightly and suddenly felt rather out of place. You didn’t know what to do with your hands and you didn’t know where to rest your eyes either.
Sensing that his bold teasing had thrown you off kilter, Lo’ak stood to meet your eyes and his face was sincere as he spoke, “Hey, if you were curious and just wanted to see what this place was about, that’s OK. We can just hang if you want to.”
You didn’t acknowledge Lo’ak’s last statement with a definite answer. You warred within yourself. What did you want?... You were nervous, but you didn’t want to go either. The recollection of the searing but short-lived kiss you’d shared with Neteyam made an appearance again in your mind. You wanted to explore that further… By Eywa, you didn’t think you’d object to kissing Lo’ak either…
Like his older brother, Lo’ak too was dressed simply. Neteyam had risen to his feet next to him and they made an incredibly handsome pair. You could absolutely understand why the other women lusted after them. After all, you were hardly innocent of that crime. Your long-standing attraction to Neteyam had ensured that.
“No, I’ll- I’ll stay.” You resolved, “I don’t want to be the only one who’s left out of the loop.”
The two brothers shared a look that you couldn’t decipher the meaning of. It was a glance between them with fairly neutral expressions, but you did see the slight upturn of their lips.
“Where’d you even get those things anyway?” You questioned. You knew that with their mixed heritage and with Jake originating from the humans’ side, that there were many tools and instruments that the olo’eyktan had adopted for use in the clan. However, you could hardly imagine the olo’eyktan openly bringing in sex toys for the clan’s wider use.
“Spider.” Neteyam supplied with a fond laugh, “He’s got quite the knack for sourcing and supplying us with contraband under the radar from the avatar camp.”
You giggled at the thought of Spider. You liked the human. He lived majority of his life amongst the Omatikaya with the Sullys anyway, so despite his foreign form, he was very much Na’vi at heart.
There was one last set of drapes in a corner by the toy chest which caught your eye. It was the only partitioned section of the outpost that you hadn’t yet explored. Ambling towards it you murmured, “What’s behind here? More of the same?”
Neteyam and Lo’ak watched you approach the last partition, knowing full well that what was behind the draperies was not simply more of the same. The last pair of drapes led into their main play area. Quietly they awaited your reaction and sure enough it came soon after in the form of a soft gasp.
They’d built a large, raised bedframe in there and on it sat a thick bedding mat swathed in silken fabric. The bed was sizeable enough to sleep several adults and piles of plush cushions and rolls lined one end of it. The other main feature of the play area, which was also courtesy of Spider, was a large mirror that ran along one entire wall.
You’d never seen anything like it. The gigantic bed was one thing, but the strange pane of whatever it was that spanned the entirety of the opposite wall was breathtaking. You had never seen your own reflection so clearly in your life, save for the completely still water of a puddle after heavy rain, and even that was a far cry from this. Mesmerised, you approached the large pane until you were standing right before it.
“It’s called a mirror.” Lo’ak’s deep timbre sounded.
You’d been so entranced by your reflection that you hadn’t noticed the two brothers enter the space behind you. They flanked you now, one on either side.
“It’s amazing.” You breathed in astonishment. Your fingertips met its cool and solid surface and you marvelled at the clarity of it, “Everything is so clear. It’s beautiful.”
“Just like you are, paskalin.” Neteyam’s words elicited another intake of breath from you and your amber eyes met his in the reflection of the mirror.
Both brothers were standing very close to you, their bodies angled inward towards yours. They were close enough that a subtle shift on either side of you would cause your arms to brush their torsos. Your ears twitched as you perceived the quiet sound of their breaths and your skin prickled with the body heat you could feel exuding from their bodies.
The mirror’s reflection also allowed you to see yourself in-between them and it became apparent to you how much taller and bigger they were in stature compared to you. The top of your head only just skimmed past their chins and your lithe body was much willowier next to their more muscular physiques. The image was as arousing as it was intimidating…
Lo’ak was carefully scenting you now, in a very similar way to the way Neteyam had done the night before. He trailed a hand up your forearm and he pulled you against him to sniff at your hair. Lo’ak’s scent was different to Neteyam’s, but it was no less appealing to your feminine senses.
Through the reflection you saw Neteyam dip his head and you anticipated his action moments before you felt the scorching heat of an open-mouthed kiss against the other side of your neck. Your next inhale was a quivering rush of air into your lungs and your heart began to pound with want.
Leaving a trail of nips up your neck to your jaw, Neteyam paused to purr by your ear, “This is a place where people come to feel good and surrender to pleasure. Rank doesn’t matter here and you leave the outside world at the door. You set the boundaries, paskalin, but if you stay tonight then you must also promise to trust us.”
You turned your head towards him, chasing Neteyam’s lips with your own, yearning to taste him again. But he pulled away with a roguish smirk that promised your patience would be rewarded if you waited.
Your reply was a breathy whimper, “Yes.”
“Is there anywhere you don’t want to be touched?” Lo’ak murmured, the fingers of one hand tickling your hip while its twin splayed flat against the small of your back.
“No, it’s all fine.” Your chest heaved with your deepening breaths, every nerve ending hyperaware and hypersensitive in the waking dawn of your arousal.
Lo’ak’s answering grin was lascivious and the hand at your back pulled the tied knot of your chest-covering free. The garment shifted as it loosened, the beads scraping over your stiffening nipples. Neteyam was quick to undo the last tie of the garment behind your neck, and with a gentle swish it fell from your body entirely, leaving you exposed.
A harsh groan sounded from Neteyam and he cupped one of your breasts, letting his thumb flick over its hard peak, “Eywa, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted touch you like this. Every time your covering shifted at work, every little peek I was afforded when it slipped momentarily, it was torturous.”
Neteyam had been looking at your breasts?... The sentiment was an exciting surprise to you and you leaned into the agonising brush of his fingers over your nipple.
Lo’ak joined his brother, stroking and fondling your other breast, “You’ve got such pretty nipples, and Eywa, they love being touched.”
A stifled moan left you as pleasure shot straight to your core from the stimulation. Your head lolled onto Neteyam’s shoulder and he clasped your chin to angle it the right way so he could reward you with a passionate kiss. You felt him snake a hand down your front, the heat of his palm blazing past your navel to travel even lower. You jolted when he cupped your crotch, his fingers deftly finding the outline of your clitoris and rolling against it.
Neteyam broke away and the absence of his mouth allowed a desirous whine to escape you. He posed another question to you, “How much do you want from us tonight?”
You were dizzy with desire and your core pulsed with liquid heat. You gave another ragged moan when Lo’ak knelt down to capture one nipple in his mouth. Your eyes flicked forward to the wanton reflection before you; one brother suckling on your breast, the other with a hand buried between your thighs while he watched you. The press of their bodies against yours was delicious and you could see matching erections straining behind their loincloths in the reflection.
Your decision came to you undeniably, and you abandoned all your inhibitions in the heat of the pleasure you were experiencing, “I want everything. I want you both to fuck me tonight.”
Their reaction was immediate. There was a flurry of motion as both brothers moved, working in tandem to free your loincloth as well as their own. Naked now as the day you were born, every part of you screamed with want while every inch of your bare skin was pressed up and imprisoned between two aroused male bodies.
You were turned and facing Lo’ak now and you could feel his hard erection throbbing between the press of your torsos. He claimed your lips in a full but brief kiss and then said, “You know, if we’d known that all it would take to get you here was a private session with us, we would’ve done this sooner.”
“You’re incorrigible.” You retorted with a chuckle.
“Shall we move to the bed?” Neteyam suggested hoarsely, “I’m rather impatient to explore you, paskalin.”
“No wait,” You stopped him. You looked into the mirror again, rather enjoying the wide and unimpeded view it gave you of the whole space. Both Neteyam and Lo’ak were gorgeous to look upon and you wanted to enjoy the vision of their imposing frames while they were standing. “I want to enjoy looking at you both like this first.”
Facing the mirror front on with the brothers on a slight angle, your eyes tracked from the top of the pane downward. They were both panting lightly and their pupils were dilated wide with lust in their beautiful faces. Broad shoulders and muscular chests were followed by powerful abdominals that tapered to their slim hips and strong legs. But of course, the two things your attention snapped back to, once your eyes had reached their feet, were their impressive erections.
Biting your bottom lip and feeling frisky, you encircled each of their cocks in your grasp, one in each hand. They were both strapping men, so it didn’t surprise you that they were proportionate in this department too. Simultaneous grunts came from them both when you began a slow squeeze and stroke. Great Mother, they were gorgeous here too… long and girthy, hot skin over rigid hardness that made your pussy clench in yearning…
Lowering yourself to your knees, you peered up at them both while you continued your pumping rhythm over their lengths. You could see they were enjoying themselves, their abs flexing and contracting with their pleasure.
Turning your face towards Neteyam, you held his eyes as you parted your mouth and licked a slow stripe up his cock and over the head of it. His hips jerked involuntarily, a hiss whistling from between his gritted teeth. When your next move was to take his cock into your mouth and suck most of the way down, his response was a strangled cry. It took some effort and co-ordination on your part, but you conscientiously bobbed and sucked while still stroking Lo’ak as well.
“Fuck, you look and feel so good.” Neteyam droned, panting through an open mouth as his face contorted and moved through a series of expressions, all of which spoke to his immense enjoyment.
Lo’ak’s hips were thrusting lightly, pushing and pulling his hard flesh in a delicious glide through your grasp. He would let out the occasional whimper, which mingled sensually with Neteyam’s unrestrained groans. Lo’ak gave a small whine shortly after and you gently drew off Neteyam’s cock with a small pop, licking your lips.
You turned to the younger brother and grinned coyly at him, “I haven’t forgotten about you.”
Lo’ak’s deep chuckle rumbled in his chest and he cocked his head at you with a wink, “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have let you forget about me anyway.”
The higher-pitched whine that then followed when you did take his cock into your mouth was a very stimulating contrast of sound.
Neteyam was shifting behind you and you felt him pat the inside of your leg lightly, “Part your legs a little for me.”
Still pleasuring Lo’ak, you multi-tasked and did as you were told. Out of the corner of your eye in the mirror, you saw that Neteyam had moved to lie on his back and had shimmied his head and shoulders between your knees.
Having a bird’s-eye view of the situation and understanding his brother’s intent, Lo’ak smirked and looked down to meet your eyes where you continued to suck him off, “You’re in for a treat, sweet thing.”
Neteyam’s firm hands gripped your hips to lower you slightly towards him. You could feel his breaths puffing gently against your pussy, which you knew was slick with your arousal. The rasp of his tongue against your folds and up to your clit was like a bolt of lightning to your core and you jumped, choking on Lo’ak’s cock when your body failed to co-ordinate your inhale of air with the bob of your head.
The assault that Neteyam began on your core was rapturous. He alternated between broad licks and swipes of his tongue and nose, and intent suckling on your clit. Lo’ak had withdrawn himself from your mouth, settling for stroking himself instead while he enjoyed the view of you squirming over his brother’s face. Leaning forward to place your hands on the ground, you rocked your hips, smoothing your core over Neteyam’s face. Breathy whimpers were coming from you as you neared your climax, but just as it was within your reach, his grip on your hips shifted and he lifted you upward from him to sit up.
“W-Wait no!” You squealed as your bottom plopped onto the ground beneath you, “Why’d you stop?!”
“Shh sorry, paskalin.” Neteyam soothed, cleaning his face off on the back of his wrist and swooping in to kiss you, “We’ll take care of you later, promise. We’re just building you up first. It’ll be worth it. Trust us, yeah?”
Chortling at the wounded expression of disappointment on your face, Neteyam got to his feet before reaching down to pull you up to your own. Your legs were unsteady, but it didn’t matter as he bent to scoop you into his arms next and carried you onto the large bed. Lo’ak had momentarily disappeared from view, but when he reappeared with three colourful implements in hand, you understood the reason for his disappearance. The sex toys.
You felt like you were burning up as you lay on the soft bedding. The heat was like molten pleasure through your veins. The tips of your nipples tingled and your pussy ached to be touched again. Lo’ak returned to join you on the bed and he handed the toys to Neteyam.
Coaxing you to sit up, Lo’ak moved to sit behind you with his legs spread so you could lean back against him. Pressing a kiss to the side of your face, Lo’ak whispered, “How about we give my brother a bit of a show, hmm? He likes to watch. It really gets him going for later.”
You looked at Neteyam, who had perched himself at the end of the bed facing you both. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, almost as if he’d heard what Lo’ak had whispered to you and thoroughly agreed with the idea. You felt Lo’ak’s hands snake under your knees and he proceeded to then hitch them up towards your torso, leaving you splayed wide in exhibition before Neteyam who merely smirked.
Neteyam crawled closer, a couple of toys in hand. You recognised the blue one from before, but there was another strange gold coloured implement you didn’t recognise. You frowned at it warily and your body stiffened as you tried to sit more upright, “What does that do?”
“It’s a suction toy. It goes over your clit.” Neteyam explained while Lo’ak soothed your nerves with some gentle hushing. Stroking a hand over one of your parted thighs, Neteyam reassured you, “If you’re not enjoying it, let me know and we can stop, OK?”
Relaxing back into the position Lo’ak had put you in against him, you nodded in consent. At this moment, you really just wanted to be touched again.
As if hearing your thoughts, Lo’ak’s hands shifted to your breasts, caressing the soft flesh and toying with your nipples again. Your back arched into his hands and he chuckled by your ear. You felt Neteyam place the gold toy carefully between your legs, adjusting it so he nestled neatly against your tingling clit.
With a few clicks, the toy whirred to life and your eyes flew open wide at the new sensation. It was like a pleasant and rhythmic series of tapping against you, and as Neteyam increased the intensity of it, the taps got faster and faster until it all melded into an incredible humming sensation with a delightful suction to it.
“O-Ohhh,”You sighed, your eyes sliding shut as you concentrated on the pulsing pleasure. The pleasure settled into a delightful tempo of rhythmic contractions that made your thighs quiver in Lo’ak’s hold. It was nothing like you’d ever experienced. You’d pleasured yourself and been pleasured by men before, but this was something else…
“That’s it, paskalin, just lean into it. Feel for the rhythm of it.” Neteyam coaxed, watching keenly as the muscles in your pussy began to visibly throb and squeeze. His next words were a profane curse as he palmed his straining erection with his free hand. He badly wanted to have your pussy throbbing and squeezing around his cock like that… not yet, but soon…
Lo’ak was watching through the mirror’s reflection, thoroughly enjoying the view of you whilst also relishing the way you were writhing against him with mewls and sighs. His gaze lifted to lock with his older brother’s and he grinned when you your moans began to intensify, “Let’s see what we can make of her, bro.”
Thoroughly absorbed by the building waves of ecstasy that wracked your core, you didn’t even register that Lo’ak had said anything. The bliss was unreal. You felt the smooth blunt tip of something prod at your entrance and you cracked open a lid to see Neteyam running the blue vibrator through your folds. He was watching you carefully for any sign of objection and when you didn’t give him any, he breached you slowly but surely with it.
A hoarse groan tore from your throat at the satisfying addition that filled your pussy. The pulsing and clenching between your legs intensified and just when you thought things couldn’t feel any better, Neteyam switched the vibrator on and it began to hum inside you too. Your jaw was slack and you could feel your face was contorted into a grimace of pleasure.
Neteyam began to pump the vibrator in and out in a mimicry of thrusting, and your hands flew to clutch at Lo’ak’s thighs beside you. You were only half-aware of yourself, your body suspended in what felt like a never-ending loop of thrumming ecstasy that was speeding you towards an inevitable orgasm that would tear you apart. Something else was building too amid the throbbing of your core. There was a pressure increasing behind your pelvis with each terribly torturous thrust of the vibrator within you.
The throaty sounds you were emitting now were making it very challenging for the two brothers, whose own lust had skyrocketed in the last while as they’d watched you. Both hands occupied with pleasuring you, Neteyam was caught in a cruel contradiction between wanting to see you through and also wanting to touch himself to ease some of the pressure. Meanwhile, Lo’ak was canting his hips against your lower back to find whatever friction he could.
You were so close, teetering on the precipice of blessed oblivion, but you needed more…
You squirmed, trying to shift in Lo’ak’s hold where he had a firm grip on you behind your knees, straining to reach your climax. Your speech was a stutter, your panting breaths punctuated with by whimpers, “P-Please, I want to- I need-”
“What do you need, paskalin?” Neteyam asked, swallowing the saliva that was rapidly pooling in his cheeks at the shameless sight of you, almost completely undone under what his hands were doing to you.
“Please, one of you, just fuck me already!”
There was an immediate halt in the unforgiving pleasure that had assailed you as Neteyam haphazardly flung the toys aside, crawling on all fours to reach you. However, Lo’ak was faster.
The younger brother had shifted you to lie on your side while he stretched out alongside you with your back against his front. He’d hoisted one of your legs upward bent at the knee to splay you, his hard cock poised to enter you.
Hisses and growls filled the air suddenly, startling you somewhat out of your lust-filled haze. You peered through foggy eyes to see Neteyam knelt on your right, his nose wrinkled and teeth on display in an aggressive snarl at his brother, who you could hear hissing in return by your ear.
Lo’ak let out a glacial laugh, “Don’t be like this, bro. We’ve been through this before.”
Neteyam’s response was a harsh growl and his ears were pinned flat to his skull.
Not wanting any animosity between the two brothers, you attempted to mollify them, “Hey, don’t fight, what’s wrong-”
An unimpressed scoff sounded from Lo’ak and he tightened his hold around you, “I know my brother, sweet thing. He won’t let me have you once he’s gotten his hands on you. See, you’re not the only one here who doesn’t like to share.”
Neteyam scowled but he didn’t disprove his brother’s assessment. With a resigned growl like thunder in his chest, he appeared to acquiesce so long as Lo’ak abided by one demand, “Fine, but don’t cum inside her. She’s mine.”
You saw a gleam of possession in Neteyam’s eyes and heard the covetousness in his voice. It was such outlandish behaviour from him, considering you were so accustomed to his usually placid demeanour, but his jealousy was thrilling to you. He lowered himself onto his side in front of you, propping his head up on one elbow to watch.
A shudder rippled through you when you felt Lo’ak glide his cock against your slippery entrance. You felt him reach between you to position himself and he penetrated you with a sharp thrust. Your cry of pleasure was a croaky moan that sounded in time with Lo’ak’s guttural groan of satisfaction as your walls clenched tight around his length. Your pussy fluttered around the width of him and you revelled in the delightful stretch of the feeling. Definitely bigger than the blue vibrator that had been there before…
Lo’ak set a punishing pace of thrusts and your breaths punched out of you with each one as his hips collided with yours. Through half-lidded eyes, you noted that Neteyam was surveying the pair of you with a rather tetchy countenance. Reaching out to him with the hand you weren’t lying on, you caressed his cheek, beckoning him to kiss you. You were enjoying being railed by Lo’ak, but you still wanted Neteyam too.
Neteyam indulged you and you moaned into his mouth while his tongue and lips swept against yours. The pressure at your core was mounting rapidly again and Lo’ak’s uninhibited moans, as he took his pleasure from your body, only served to spur your pleasure onward.
Through the moist melding of your lips with Neteyam’s, you took his wrist and purred a request to him, “Touch me, Neteyam.”
His fingers found the swollen nub at the apex of your thighs and he began to press and circle it in an insistent rub. Your head flopped back against Lo’ak while you whined in bliss at the addition of Neteyam’s actions.
The nagging pressure in your pelvis returned along with the burn and pulse of your pussy. You could see your anticipated ecstasy within reach, but the pressure behind your pubic bone was increasing with each of Lo’ak’s hard thrusts. It felt like an urgent and insistent need to relieve yourself all of a sudden, and it alarmed you…
Eyes flying wide, you tried to shift in Lo’ak’s hold to stop him, ““W-Wait, I need to-”
Neteyam silenced you with a kiss and he hushed you softly, “Let go, paskalin. I know it feels strange, but just go with it.”
Frantic and feeling completely out of control as your orgasm loomed, you spluttered, “It feels like I’m going to wet myself!”
You saw Neteyam’s eyes flick to his brother behind you and they must have shared a meaningful look, for instead of slowing down or being gentler, Lo’ak added a swivel to the trajectory of his hips and Neteyam’s fingers persisted in their massage against your clit.
“Let go, trust me.” Neteyam breathed over you, “Come on, Neyomi.”
You didn’t know if it was the way he’d purred your given name, or if it was just a coincidence of timing and you couldn’t bear it any longer, but you succumbed to the tidal wave of pleasure and allowed it to consume you. A piercing scream ripped from you upon the initial wave. Your entire body went rigid and your pussy contracted intensely, pushing several spurts of fluid from between your legs. You were only dimly aware of the wetness you were emitting as you enjoyed the fleeting weightlessness of your powerful climax.
“Ah, fuck!” Lo’ak pulled free of you with a guttural shout to spill outside of you and over your taut belly and hips as your orgasm has triggered his own.
His breathing was ragged now whilst he came down from his own high and with a wary glance at Neteyam, he leaned over to steal a sloppy kiss from your parted lips, which you returned with a soft moan. He rolled away then onto his back, knowing that his brother would want his time with you now.
The keenness of your senses were slowly returning to you as you recovered from the explosive sensations you’d just experienced. All too aware now of the dampness on the bedspread beneath you, your hands flew to your face in embarrassment. What the fuck happened?... It had felt so amazing, but you’d wet yourself at the end of it…
“Great Mother, I’m sorry. I’ve made a mess.” You murmured through your fingers and you scooted up the bed into a sitting position, looking mortified at the drenched patches on the bedding.
Neteyam’s husky laugh was an unexpected reaction and your round eyes regarded him in bewilderment. Even Lo’ak was chuckling away where he lay relaxing with an arm thrown over his eyes.
Neteyam pulled gently at your hands, “Look at me. You haven’t wet yourself, alright?”
“I don’t understand.”
“What you just experienced was a squirt. It doesn’t happen all the time, but it can happen with intense orgasms from rigorous stimulation.” Neteyam explained mildly, before he graced you with a devious smirk, “It was extremely arousing to witness, paskalin.”
The deepening growl of his tone set shivers tingling down your spine again and your eyes dropped to the still prominent erection in his lap. That’s right, you asked to be fucked by two brothers tonight… one down, one more to go… and this was the one your blood seemed to sing for; that your heart leapt for whenever you saw him…
You knew your skin was already flushed from the earlier activities, but you felt renewed heat tinge your cheeks as Neteyam pushed onto his knees to shuffle closer to you again. Sitting before his kneeling form, you were just at the right height to take hold of his cock. Stroking it gingerly, you placed a shy kiss on its tip and lifted your eyes to meet Neteyam’s as he stared down at you. Great Mother, you felt your pussy squeeze again at the expression he wore, which was masculine possessiveness in the best kind of way…
“Don’t get shy on me now. I’m not done with you yet.” He hissed, grimacing as you began the luscious suck and bob of your head over his swollen length, “That all you got for me? You were choking on my brother’s cock earlier.”
Lifting your gaze to his again at his goading, you perceived a familiar warmth swirling behind the covetousness in his eyes, and something warm unfurled in your chest. Neteyam’s words had been taunting, but you could see he was just teasing you. You doubled down on your effort anyway, savouring the titillating feeling of his throbbing cock in your mouth while he groaned openly.
An unexpected click and rumbling buzz caught you unawares and you stilled. You felt the bed sink a little behind you and you realised that Lo’ak had moved to place something next to you on the bed. Drawing your lips up and off Neteyam’s length, you picked up the purple wand toy you’d seen in the chest before. It rumbled temptingly in your grip and you instinctively look at Neteyam for instruction.
“On your hands and knees, but keep facing me.” He directed, “My brother can help with this toy.”
Once again, you did as you were instructed and you redirected your attention to Neteyam’s hard flesh, returning it to the moist confines of your mouth. You’d always enjoyed giving blowjobs. Men were beautiful creatures, especially the one before you now, with all his formidable strength and taut muscle. You’d always found giving them pleasure a turn-on.
You jumped when the rumbling vibrations of the wand toy skimmed up the inside of one of your thighs, drifting dangerously close to your core before it was moved away. It repeated a similar path up the inside of your other thigh before trailing downward yet again. The vibrating tip of it began its ascent again and this time you canted your hips towards it, earning a dark chuckle from Lo’ak who was clearly enjoying teasing you.
Deciding not to be cruel, Lo’ak pressed the bulbous head of the wand against your core and began to stroke it back and forth over you. Your throaty groan of pleasure was muffled and Neteyam thought to himself how alluring you looked with your eyes rolling back while your mouth was full of him. It was an image straight out of his erotic fantasies of you…
Rocking to and fro as you sucked, the delicious rumbles of the wand were deep against your sensitive flesh and your clit was throbbing under the onslaught. You could taste Neteyam’s pre-cum on your tongue and his hands had framed your face, stroking your hollowed cheeks while he slurred pledges to you of how beautiful you looked.
Lo’ak was afford an unimpeded view of your rear and your pussy, your tail curled up and away in an erotic display. He could tell from the twitching throb and clench of your muscles that your second orgasm was not far away. “She’s close, bro.”
You whimpered as Neteyam extracted himself from your mouth at his brother’s report and he bent to whisper in your ear, “I’m going to fuck you now, paskalin. Do you want me to take you from behind or do you want me to face you?”
“I want to kiss you.” Your response was not quite a direct answer to his question, but it was telling enough for Neteyam to make his decision. Grasping you under your underarms, he hauled you upright onto your knees before he toppled you onto your back against the plush cushions.
Pinning you under the delightful heaviness of his muscular physique, you parted your thighs to cradle his slim hips as he positioned himself where he needed to be.
Neteyam’s handsome face was wicked and he paused to purr a filthy promise to you, “You’re going to remember me like this. Every day at work and every night in your dreams, you’re going to remember the feel of my cock inside you as I fuck you.”
Oh Eywa your work days… It was going to be a test of your composure not to let your very unprofessional behaviour not colour your professional conduct with him…
Like with his brother before, the burning stretch to fullness of him as Neteyam pushed inside you was incredibly satisfying, but it was more intimate face-to-face like this. You could watch his every expression like this as he began to thrust; his eyelids were heavy; his lips were parted, and a variation of higher-pitched whimpers and low groans were falling from him.
For Neteyam, your wet heat clutching at his cock was a staggering sensation. He felt his length throb in gratification as your pussy squeezed around him. After watching his brother fuck you and then having to wait his own turn, his own orgasm was racing towards him at a much quicker pace than he anticipated. He wanted to wring another climax from you first though…
Remembering that you’d expressed a desire to kiss him, Neteyam lowered himself onto his elbows so your front was flush with his and only his hips were canting back and forth. Nuzzling your cheek tenderly, he sealed his mouth over yours in a fervent kiss that stole your breath from you.
The hardness of his pubic bone rocked over your clit with each of his thrusts in this position, and each press of his body against yours brought you one step closer to ecstasy. These ‘steps’ weren’t a slow stroll either, they were more like a hurtling sprint. The familiar pressure within your pelvis started up again, but this time it didn’t alarm you. Every piston of Neteyam’s hips was hitting a pleasurable spot inside you that acted like a pump, building the pressure and winding it tighter and tighter.
Neteyam distractedly wondered to himself how Lo’ak had held out for as long as he did when he’d fucked you. Your core was a slippery vise around him, every thrust working his swollen cock from root to tip. His head was buried by the side of your face now as he groaned and panted. Your own cries were getting louder now, to his relief. He didn’t know how much longer he’d last…
“Fuck, paskalin, you’re driving me insane. I’m so close.” He grunted.
“Same. Keep going.” You kissed him again.
When the surge of ecstasy washed over you a second time, you relinquished your control and the pressure in your pelvis snapped with another orgasmic squirt. With your thighs cradling Neteyam’s hips and your arms raking his back, you felt him stiffen with his own climax, his thrusting becoming erratic as he roared his pleasure into the cushion under your head. A viscous heat seeped out from your core where you were still joined, a sensation that had been absent before with Lo’ak, which you now recognised was the evidence of Neteyam’s orgasm.
Adjusting himself so he wouldn’t crush you under his weight, Neteyam rolled onto his side. He tittered naughtily then and his grin was smug, “I told you I’d make you come. Welcome to the love shack.”
Recalling your foot-in-mouth innuendo from the previous night, you rolled your eyes and giggled, “Great Mother, who would’ve guessed that underneath the well-mannered gentleman that you’re such a wild beast.”
Warm skin enveloped your other side as Lo’ak shifted closer to join you, throwing a leg over one of yours and tangling you to him. He murmured by your temple when he placed a kiss there, “Think you’ll swing by again, sweet thing?”
Tilting your head back and craning your neck upward, you gave Lo’ak a deep kiss before turning to do the same to Neteyam, “Only if I can have you both to myself again.”
Lo’ak smirked, bending to kiss and nip at a gradually peaking nipple while Neteyam ran a hot hand down your torso to slip his fingers through your folds, slick with a combination of your own wetness and his seed. You could feel their cocks hardening again where they were pressed to either side of your hips.
By Eywa, stamina as well as skill? No wonder the women kept returning…
Neteyam eyed you and his response was a salacious murmur, “I believe that can be arranged, paskalin.”
PART III - Blurring Lines HERE
***~~~***
Author's Note: I'm quite sure this is filthiest piece I've ever written... 🫣I don't know how I pulled almost 7.5k of sexy stuff out of my brain, but I hope you all FELT this in all the right ways and all the right places... Three cheers for our two boys Neteyam & Lo'ak!! Woot woot! Thanks for reading this! Leave me a comment, I'd love to hear from you and thanks for all your likes and reblogs too! 😘
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opencommunion · 2 months
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"In the twenty-first century, nothing is more indicative of U.S. empire than the global reach of the U.S. military. Much of this power comes from its approximately 800 military bases located in around eighty countries, accounting for about 95 percent of the world’s foreign military bases. No other country comes close to the U.S. level of worldwide military control. ... The United States probably has more military bases than any other empire in history, yet most Americans remain largely ignorant of their numbers and location. The history of these bases is an imperial history, tied to war, occupation, and military expansion. Wherever the U.S. military has gone bases have usually followed, giving the United States an ongoing presence long after the war or occupation is over.
The creation of bases has accompanied each wave of U.S. expansion. Military forts enabled continental conquest—255 in total—which functioned as foreign bases on land that was often still controlled by Native peoples. These forts operated as the military outposts of settler-colonialism and were targeted by Native peoples as violations of territorial integrity. The War of 1898 and subsequent occupation of overseas colonies resulted in a global basing system, and by 1938 the United States had fourteen military bases outside its continental borders in Puerto Rico, Cuba, Panama, the Virgin Islands, Hawaii, Midway, Wake, Guam, the Philippines, Shanghai, the Aleutians, American Samoa, and Johnston Island. ... The explosion of foreign bases during World War II would be followed by surges during the Korean War, the War in Vietnam, and the Wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, showing that wars and occupations continue to expand U.S. territory, even if the form of those acquisitions has shifted since the days of settler-colonialism and annexation. The contemporary number, which hovers around 800 to 900, is still an impressive network that places the military within striking distance of every spot on the globe. Historian Bruce Cumings calls the modern form of U.S. empire an 'archipelago empire,' small islands of U.S. control from which power can be projected anywhere in the world. It has become increasingly difficult to tell where the boundaries of the United States begin and where they end.
... For most U.S. citizens these bases are either invisible or accepted as a natural part of our national security apparatus. David Vine argues that Americans 'consider the situation normal and accept that US military installations exist in staggering numbers in other countries, on other peoples’ land. On the other hand, the idea that there would be foreign bases on US soil is unthinkable.'"
Stefan Aune, "American Empire," in At War: The Military and American Culture in the Twentieth Century and Beyond, 2018
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tomorrowusa · 7 months
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California has gotten its first tropical storm watch ever. The last time a tropical storm hit California was in September of 1939 just after Hitler had started World War II. They didn't issue such watches in those days.
Major Hurricane Hilary in the Pacific is way stronger than low energy Hurricane Don in the Atlantic a few weeks ago; the latter spent only a few hours as a hurricane as it spun around aimlessly away from land.
Hilary will weaken from the current Category 4, but how much it will weaken is still not certain. If it maintains sustained winds of at least 74 MPH/119 KMH when it reaches California, then it will become California's first ever official hurricane.
Hurricane Hilary is expected to hit Southern California as a tropical storm, with a punch that could include flash flooding and significant amounts of rain, according to the National Hurricane Center.  A tropical storm watch for much of Southern California was issued Friday morning. The National Weather Service's San Diego outpost said this was the first time such an advisory had ever been issued for the region. 
As somebody who's been through half a dozen tropical cyclones on the East Coast, I would advise our California friends that rain is a bigger hazard than wind – in most cases. People in areas which have the potential for flooding should particularly remain on alert.
The 1939 storm, called El Cordonazo, became the first and only tropical storm to make landfall in the state in the 20th century, according to the National Weather Service. NWS says the storm, which was at one point a hurricane, originated off the southern coast of Central America before moving north and eventually coming ashore at San Pedro, California.  Resulting floods from the storm killed at least 45 people across the Southern California region and caused $2 million in damage to structures and crops, the weather service reports. Another 48 people were also killed at sea.
There were far fewer people in California in 1939 when El Cordonazo caused deadly flooding.
Here is the current forecast for rainfall potential.
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Keep up with the track of Hurricane Hilary here. Southern California should begin to feel the effects of Hilary on Sunday afternoon. Monitor local emergency information and follow advisories.
And if you're wondering why this is happening...
Our oceans are the warmest in recorded history. This is why it's so concerning
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uss-edsall · 2 months
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I love ArmA III's campaign, because you are not special forces.
You aren't, even, technically an infantryman.
You are treated accordingly.
The result of it is a remarkable criticism in its own right of the worldwide fascination with Special Forces, and the morally grey-to-black work they swim in; viewed from the perspective of someone who isn't one of them.
Spoilers below.
ArmA III's campaign is very similar in premise to literally every previous entry. It goes back to its roots.
Preamble
In Operation Flashpoint, a rogue communist general destroys American force presence on an island, and you fight to liberate said island. In Armed Assault, the communist leader of the northern nation on an island attacks its neighbor just as American forces are withdrawing from the country. You play those American forces, fighting alongside the monarchist neighbor. In ArmA II, you play American marine special forces who perform pre-invasion operations in a Not-Eastern Europe Country, then support the marine invasion -- and then have to go to ground and fight alongside the rebels you were previously fighting when the US abruptly withdraws.
ArmA III starts out similar to Armed Assault. You are Corporal Kerry, an American logistics (truck) driver for Task Force Aegis, a multinational peacekeeping force formed by NATO, in the aftermath of a civil war in the Republic of Altis and Stratis. The campaign, set in 2035 (which was 23 years away at the game's release), is all centred around a time of a superpower being created through mass alliances.
The enemy is CSAT (Canton Protocol Strategic Alliance Treaty), a superpower created through a mass alliance of nations like China and Iran. They are surging in power as American and NATO supremacy/hegemony declines.
The Republic of Altis and Stratis is the victim of Great Power Proxy Wars. In 2026, a dictator named Colonel Akhanteros seized power, sparking a civil war between the former regime's loyalists and the country's military, the Altis Armed Forces (AAF) under Akhanteros' command. From 2026-2030, the Altian Civil War devastated the nation, ending in Akhanteros' victory. TF Aegis has been in the nation ever since, trying to prevent civil war from breaking out again and largely opposing former-Loyalist fighters. TF Aegis is preparing to leave in 2035.
Just days before Task Force Aegis finishes its withdrawal and leaves for good, the AAF - previously denigrated and constantly insulted by the Aegis members who had been training them to take over once they left - suddenly attack, overwhelming the few remaining Aegis members, and devastates the NATO force. Why they did this is not made immediately clear.
You, Corporal Kerry, are one of the few survivors.
Chapter One
In the first 'chapter,' of the campaign, during the destruction of TF Aegis you make contact with a British special forces guy named Miller, leading something called the CTRG (Combat Technology Research Group). They openly admit to be Special Forces, claiming to be British special forces in particular and performing clandestine operations in the country. They seemingly chose to throw away their secrecy to save the few members of Aegis they could. Less than a handful of your allies remain, rescued from certain death and brought to the CTRG basecamp.
During this time, Kerry, Aegis, and the CTRG fight a war of resistance against the AAF, securing various objectives and attempting to strike back, certain that NATO will send a quick reaction force to retaliate and rescue you. In one notable mission, you provide support to the special forces as they try to take back a communications outpost to call for help from NATO. The CTRG abruptly declare that all the tech in there's useless, they're blowing the place up, and you withdraw.
During the chapter, the CTRG members, even their charismatic second-in-command James that's immediately likable, make it clear very quickly that they're not telling the peacekeeper survivors their real mission objectives, nor what exactly are they doing there. This makes your Aegis allies uneasy on their presence. You, Corporal Kerry, are left in the dark for a lot of things, but James makes you want to like him. The fact they're Special Forces make you want to trust them.
Corporal Kerry, who by then has already pulled off some frankly impossible tasks to ask of a logistics truck driver before these events, doesn't much like this:
Kerry: Respectfully, sir, when the hell are you going to tell us what's going on? Miller: Saying 'respectfully', Corporal, and proceeding to be disrespectful somewhat defeats the purpose, don't you think? ... Look, I can't say exactly what happened. What I can say is what's happening right now. We're headed to Altis. There's a local guerilla movement there - FIA - the same guys that got themselves killed for us back on Stratis. We'll make a quiet entrance and link up with them.
The first chapter ends with you trying to escape Altis to reach the island of Stratis. The AAF finds you all and proceed to obliterate you and your allies with extreme prejudice.
Chapter Two
The second chapter begins with you waking up from having been knocked unconscious, washing ashore next to the body of a CTRG member.
You are the only survivor of Task Force Aegis.
The CTRG makes contact with the loyalist resistance remnant -- and it is revealed that the CTRG have worked with the resistance before. During the civil war, the CTRG were secretly supporting the loyalists; the same insurgents the protagonist was fighting for the past couple years before the AAF turned on them. Captain Miller and Lieutenant James are surprised as hell that you, Kerry, are alive. Pleasantly surprised, though. They proceed to order you to do another impossible task.
During this chapter it is revealed that CSAT is now backing the AAF. Moreover than that, CSAT has deployed troops to the island, not as peacekeepers but as reinforcements. The CTRG remains shady, and continues to leave Kerry in the dark. One mission begins with you supporting the CTRG and the guerillas in a convoy ambush, but abruptly, you end up in charge. The CTRG have some other pressing objective they won't tell you about, and they leave you behind.
You aren't special forces. They don't trust you.
Kerry: But - with respect - what about the convoy? Are we still on for that? James: You ask a lot of questions, Corporal. Don't worry. Miller will be in touch soon. You'll know what to do.
While Kerry's relationship with the guerillas starts out rocky, by the end of this chapter they trust him implicitly. He has fought beside them, bled beside them, they are brothers in arms.
At the end of the second chapter, you return to Altis, having wreaked havoc on Stratis and been reinforced by the guerillas. Causing great damage, it feels like you're making an effective push against AAF forces.
Then NATO arrives.
This should be happy, for NATO is finally here to save the day, except the first thing NATO does is open fire on the guerilla forces, killing Stavrou, the leader of the group. Kerry tries to call on the CTRG, begging for their help in stopping this - the CTRG do not respond. In the end, it's up to Kerry to make contact and stop the slaughter.
Except when you meet the NATO commander...
Kerry: What about Captain Miller, sir? He was supposed to establish [communications] with your main force. Crossroads: I'm sorry, who? Kerry: Captain Scott Miller. UKSF? Kinda ... talks like he's got a stick up his ass all the time? Crossroads: The British? The Brits are no longer operating in this area. To my knowledge, they've been out since May. And, regardless, we have no record of a Captain Scott Miller.
Chapter Three
The third chapter begins with Corporal Kerry disgraced.
Soldier 1: Yeah, that's him. The 'guerrilla' guy. Soldier 2: He's been hiding on Altis this whole time?
Kerry is all but accused directly of desertion. Some of the American soldiers even suspect Kerry was part of the massacre of TF Aegis. After all, he's alive and literally nobody else is - and he's claiming to have survived because of some special forces of a nation that hasn't had forces on the island in months.
However, all are needed to report for duty:
Armstrong: And - while we're on the subject, Corporal - were it up to me, you'd be stuck here spit-shining latrines until a court-martial deemed you fit for duty. Lucky for you, command doesn't feel likewise. But make no mistake, you fuck up just once - you endanger any of my men - and you're gone.
Not that 'all hands on deck' means you're facing great responsibility, not initially. You're guarding a slum. That is until CSAT attacks, and kills every member of the squad you were in while you were reporting incoming fast boats. You and the remnants of another unit are rescued by the guerrillas you'd previously fought beside. The guerrillas will only fight with you as their liaison, and so you're back in action. What follows is fairly typical war combat whatever as the American forces push back against the AAF and their CSAT support. As you secure an airport however, an earthquake shocks the island, albeit briefly. In the next following missions, earthquakes repeatedly shake the island.
After some more battles - during which you periodically fight with the guerrillas or other American troops - Kerry is informed that the investigation into his conduct in the "Stratis Incident" has finished. He is cleared of any wrongdoing.
The commander still cautions Kerry not to get involved with the "Brits and their black ops bullshit".
During the second to last mission of the third chapter, Kerry suddenly gets a transmission.
It's Lieutenant James, the second-in-command of the CTRG, and he's dying. He broadcasts his coordinates. You have two options.
Keep Kerry's nose out of the Brits and their black ops bullshit.
Respond and see ce quoi the fuck is up.
Endings
Option One
Kerry disregards the message and returns to NATO forces. Obviously you're not the only one who heard it. Your commander compliments you, and assured of your reliability, offers the opportunity to be a major component of the coming battle.
AAF forces are defeated. CSAT withdraws with little to zero fanfare. The AAF and Colonel Akhanteros give their formal surrender, ending the conflict.
Congratulations, Kerry.
This is the canonical route, as DLC and other scenarios depend on this to have gone this route.
Option Two
You've been advised by your new commander to keep your damn nose out of those Brits and their spec-ops bullshit, but, damnit -- the CTRG saved your life! James is your friend, he needs help, he's dying! Sure they're shady and Kerry was never trusted with any info on what they were doing - but…!
Kerry chooses to respond to the distress call. One last angry transmission from your commander ends when Kerry turns off his radio.
From this point on NATO forces will shoot you - you're considered renegade, a deserter.
Kerry finds James. James and his squad of CTRG troops were ambushed by CSAT special forces and destroyed. With his dying breath James requests you deliver a truck loaded with something called the Eastwind Device on it. You have to defeat the remaining CSAT troops, but once you get it, you deliver it to Captain Miller.
Kerry is at the end of his rope. He has come to dislike Miller greatly - but he has still done the bidding of the CTRG like a good puppy desperate for his master's affection.
The video below shows this cutscene in verbatim.
Nonetheless I will write it out, as it provides more context. Kerry drops off the Eastwind Device and approach Captain Miller. Kerry is beginning to connect the dots. This Eastwind Device is what this has all been about! The CTRG did not support the loyalists because their cause was one to believe in. They did not rescue TF Aegis out of the goodness of their hearts. In fact, it's likely the fact they're here at all is the entire reason why this war broke out, as the AAF invasion began within hours of the CTRG arrival.
They used you and your forces as disposable pawns, expending you in different actions to provide themselves opportunities to get at the Eastwind Device. The communications station? It was perfectly fine - the CTRG blew it up to delay NATO's counter-attack so the Eastwind Device remained where it was. Stavrou and the guerillas being blown up by NATO? CTRG passed on faulty information so they could tie up a loose end by getting him killed. NATO forces getting devastated in a major assault against what was supposed to be a lightly armed garrison, but turned out to be the single hardest strongpoint on the island? CTRG passed on faulty info so that CSAT wouldn't evacuate quite so fast.
Kerry's angry as hell, yelling at Miller. As this is happening, CSAT launches a massive assault against the island. Miller, saying "I like you," says that he has to go - but he promises he'll be back in an hour if you stay here.
As the credits begin rolling, over the radio you hear every single American unit you've fought with report that they are being overwhelmed, ending with your commander's broadcast before he too is killed.
CSAT, in trying to get their superweapon back, obliterates an American division. Ergo, in giving the CTRG the Eastwind Device, you just started World War Three.
There's a follow-on mission.
Whereas the previous mission ended in broad daylight, this one begins at 4 AM. CTRG didn't come back. All out war has broken loose and combat rages all over the island. Kerry desperately calls for Miller again. Like a good dog, he's been waiting for evac.
Miller: Kerry? Look, the situation has changed. It's too late. With what we're dealing with here, I simply can't take the risk. I can't return to the warzone. I'm sorry, you're on your own. Kerry: What?! Are you fucking kidding me?! Fuck you, Miller! I risked my ass, saved your life, all for what? A fucking suicide mission?! Miller! Respond! Just what the hell was this all about?! Falcon! Goddamnit, do you read me?! Son of a bitch!
They have abandoned you to die. Miller never intended to return at all.
You? Kerry? The lucky truck driver who always came back from impossible mission after impossible mission? A useful pawn. A gullible idiot. Miller has sabotaged you and yours, used you, TF Aegis, the FIA rebels, all as cannon fodder and distractions for his real objective. Every time you survived another impossible mission he goes, "huh, neat," and sends you out on a new one. Never once allowing you in to the privileged group of CTRG special forces because, even though you're pulling off heroic feats you aren't special forces. They never trusted you. They never were ever going to trust you.
You must find any way to get off the island, and in a remarkable show of giving the player free agency, you can have any escape route. Find a boat and escape on it. Literally just swim for twenty minutes straight. Steal a helicopter. Committing suicide is an option, even. You can also find a couple surviving guerillas and a scant few surviving NATO troops who can join you. Regardless, that's where the main campaign ends on this non-canon route.
Conclusion
The ArmA III campaign focuses on something very rare, both for 2013 when it came out and even still today:
The regular trooper, and what it means to be the outsider looking in on the Special Forces.
In the non-canon ending, the ruthless CTRG operators used Kerry until there was nothing left, and then dangled him out on a dying vine. You aren't SOF.
TF Aegis was a victim of the great power proxy war. Having learned that the CTRG team was after the Eastwind Device, CSAT forced Akhanteros to order the AAF to obliterate TF Aegis, hoping to catch Miller and his team with them. Their lifeline to call for help was destroyed by the CTRG team, to buy time to get at the eastwind device. In so doing they ensured the eventual total annihilation of the TF Aegis survivors.
The FIA rebels were victims of the great power proxy war. Their past connections from previous black-ops before the civil war ended were cruelly pulled to support CTRG in objectives that weren't related to their liberation. Then, when it was clear their existence would only help speed up the AAF destruction and accelerate when the Eastwind Device left the island, they got the rebel commanders killed in a friendly fire incident.
The American troops in the NATO counter-attack were victims of the great power proxy war. In order to get more time to get at the Eastwind Device, CTRG passed along faulty intel that got dozens of them killed in an assault against an AAF strongpoint. In the non-canon route, the entire division form the first casualties of World War Three.
Colonel Akhanteros and the AAF were victims of the great power proxy war no matter what. Forced to attack TF Aegis and invite the unholy wrath of a superpower alliance in return, it ends with their complete destruction and formal surrender. In the non-canon route, they are as good as defeated before CSAT utterly crushes the NATO attack, but it devastates the island in the process. In the canon route, they've been left to hang by CSAT, which withdraws once the Eastwind Device is secure. Even without all that, Altis and Stratis has been the testing ground for an earthquake creating superweapon, used as a pawn by CSAT on the global stage.
Everyone was disposable in the name of the great power proxy war.
You, Corporal Kerry, were disposable.
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sourfall · 5 months
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"If you cut Dr. Weir out of the loop, you'll only alienate the people whose trust and respect she's earned. Including me."
What a difference a few weeks/months? in an isolated intergalactic outpost can make for our boy Johnny. ♥️
1x13 Hot Zone ---> 1x20 The Siege II
As requested by @mylittleredgirl ♥️
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unsc-offical · 6 months
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I've decided i will allow myself one starfield post so I do not burst so here are my thoughts
Let me give my crew a hug or just some kind words or a greeting, and allow me to say goodbye or an "welp, guess I gotta go" instead of just leaving, they always sounds so disappointed when we stop talking. I know I am.
LET ME GIVE CORA COE BOOKS I STG I WILL FIND YOU TODD HOWARD
I need more stuff to put on the back of my ship, it's just some engines and squares and some stuff that looks like engines (I run a uscss nostromo replica, from alien (the franchise))
Give me the exact parts to make the Pelican from halo. It's not a want but a need, Todd,
Guys if you're playing starfield and in the epsilon eridani system, check the caves on reach, for noble six. Idc if he's not there I will never stop looking
Let. Me. Give. Cora. Coe. Books. Todd.
I want more space in the ship builder. Definitely not to re create Garfield as a space ship, I want it for normal reasons like...uh... recreating the battlestar galactica. Yeah... definitely
Let me arrest people in freestar space instead of blowing up their ship or boarding and killing them. My character is a mute mass murder with a friendly face, smile who is always the kindest they can be. Who's a great person who has resolved so many conflicts peacefully, and saved lives, but I've also killed over 300 people because they're labeled as "bad guy pirates" who are NOT people with lives and families to support. Anyway moving on
WHY IS IT SO MANY SKILL POINTS TO GET MORE CREW I JUST WANT ALL MY SCRUNGLIES ON MY SHIP AT ONCE (except heller and lin, I'm making my first and only outpost just for them lol it's gonna be on starfields planet reach (epsilon eridani II I believe, maybe it's III or I, but it's definitely epsilon eridani because that's where reach is in halo lore).
I've collected so many books let me give them to Cora, Todd Howard from Bethesda,
Honestly I don't mind the not being able to travel freely but there is just TOO MANY MENUS to finally travel somewhere. Especially when I haven't been there before and have to do it
I also don't mind the state of planet exploration BUT I am not saying you shouldn't complain. This isn't an indie company with 1 guy 5 dollars and a pizza (that's the state of the UNSC pr office lmao @oni-official) it's a part of the biggest company in gaming and should not be free from criticism, but also don't go after the devs ovbiously
I'll reblog this with more thoughts when I have them. If you haven't noticed I'm bad at sticking to what I say and should stop saying things.
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cerastes · 7 months
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So have you figured out what it means by upgrading a node in the new game mode because I'm stumped?
So, look at any given node info, and you'll see two transparent icons to the upper right:
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Tap that
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This is how it works:
An Outpost has two Level 2 or higher Combat Constructs, like Urban Style Barrier II, Firm Platform II, Fortification II, etc. Put two of them in the map and now that node is an Outpost, giving you ATK +15% to all units when fighting there, as well as passive effect that will almost never really be relevant (in my non-universal experience) but it's there.
A Sentry has two level or higher Scout Constructs, the wording of which poses me quite some duress because in the actual building interface, there's no such thing as 'Scout' Constructs, there's Recon Constructs:
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And this is what the game means. The only Level 2 Recon Construct is the Monitoring Tower II (there is a Level 3 Tower as well but you only need Level 2 for the Sentry). Make two of these, plop them in a map, and all enemies will move 15% slower in that node. Additionally, this gives a very powerful secondary effect: Reveals all tiles 2 nodes away from the Sentry node. It's a HUGE advantage to be able to save Acts without needing to go into needless Conflicts.
Also, make sure to make three Sentry nodes in one run to unlock two strong effects from the tech tree.
A node can be an Outpost and a Sentry simultaneously.
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7-wonders · 9 days
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At the Edge of the Universe
Michael Langdon x Reader (Mad Love Act II, Chapter XIV)
Summary: It’s time to meet the residents of Outpost 3 as Michael begins his interviews to see who will make it to the Sanctuary (spoiler alert: not many).
Word count: 4.1k
A note from the author: Surprise Mad Love drop! We are down to our last three or four chapters, can you believe it? I've told myself that I'm not allowed to write anything else until I finish this, so expect updates semi-frequently. Goal is to get this bad boy finished by June! As always—hope you enjoy, and remember that likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round!
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Mad Love Masterlist
This is your fourth Outpost visit, and as you look out at the small crowd of survivors gathered in the sitting room of Outpost 3, you believe that you can confidently say that every one of them looks exactly the same.
Not appearance-wise, of course. Overseers are allowed to establish their own rules for their respective Outposts, including wardrobes. Most had been pretty laidback, actually. Outpost 3 is by far the most draconian, and you’re already regretting not pushing back on Michael’s decision to have you join him as you sweat in your stiff Victorian gown.
Though outfits and rules may change, what doesn’t is the faces. Every single time, when you and Michael arrive and make your introductions, the faces of the survivors are filled with hope. The hope of new drama, the hope of continued survival, the hope of a way out of the Outpost. It’s so familiar now, and each time, it’s pained you to see. These people that the apocalypse has spared, whether due to circumstance or societal standing, have no idea that they’re just pawns in Michael’s game of chess. No, worse than pawns. They’re nothing but dolls, amusement for Michael to play with before tossing them to the side like they’re worthless.
“My name is Langdon,” Michael starts. Instead of introducing you, he looks to you to introduce yourself, and you press your lips together to keep from smirking. Oh, he’s so going to regret this.
He immediately does the moment that you introduce yourself with your first and last name. Your legal last name, the one you were born with, and not that of your infernal husband. You can feel him looking at you, surely with barely-contained rage. Instead of looking back, you simply smile warmly at the occupants of Outpost 3, waiting for Michael to get back with the program.
“We won’t sugarcoat the situation,” he says after a brief stumble. “Humanity is on the brink of failure. Our arrival here is crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth.”
There are a couple of other things that don’t change from Outpost to Outpost, you note as you watch the interaction that unfolds. The questions, for instance, are almost always the same, and almost always asked out of turn in a way that is guaranteed to infuriate Michael. What happened to everybody, what’s the Sanctuary, will some survive, etc. You clock every single question—even robot Ms. Mead’s, though that one wasn’t too surprising since you knew how she was reprogrammed—and listen as Michael gives the same answers that he always does.
Something else that doesn’t change? The abject lust displayed by a good contingent of the survivors. Michael’s a very attractive man, which you obviously know. 18 months is a long time to be surrounded by a very small amount of people day in and day out, and now that there’s fresh blood offering them a chance at salvation, they’ll do anything to convince him that they’re worthy. You frown as the survivors jockey for his attention, to be first. 
Not because you’re jealous or anything. It seems as though the only aspect of Michael’s personality that has remained untouched through his rebirth into a full-fledged Antichrist is his devotion to you. No, you frown because you know that Michael loves to use this to his advantage. After all, lust is one of the seven deadly sins.
“What was that?” Michael asks after the introduction is over and as soon as the doors close behind you in the office in which the interviews will be conducted. 
“What?” you ask coyly, playing a game of your own.
“You know what.”
“Oh, that?” Michael nods exasperatedly. “Langdon’s not my last name.”
You’re not sure if he looks more angered or bewildered, though the combination does have a pleasing shade of red creeping up his neck. “Of course it is, you’re my wife!”
“Not legally,” you retort.
“Well, we can’t exactly go to a courthouse to make it legal.”
“Hmm, maybe you should have waited for us to get to the point where I wanted to get legally married before ending the world.”
Michael’s jaw clenches, and he smirks. “Clever, though I have to say that your attitude is getting old.”
“And yours isn’t?”
You’re both breathing heavily as you glare, daring the other to continue. You fight with Michael so often now that this is a familiar dance, and you know the next move. He goes to kiss you, and though you’re certainly tempted, you put a hand up to stop him.
“No! No, we are not having sex right now.” You try to sound convincing, though you might be attempting to convince yourself more than Michael. It’s just so easy to resort to sex. It’s the one thing that you both agree on in this new world—that you’re good at having sex together. Plus, that’s one of the only times that you don’t completely hate him, and though it pains you to admit it, you look forward to those moments when you forget why you should think him a monster.
Michael raises an eyebrow. “We could, though.”
“No.” 
To drive the point home, you put as much space between you as possible and go to the desk that holds all of the files of every Outpost 3 resident. If there’s one thing that gets Michael’s mind out of the gutter, it’s talking about his magnum opus: the apocalypse.
“What’s Dinah doing here?” That had been quite the shock, to greet Outpost 3 and find yourself meeting the eyes of the (now former, you suppose) voodoo queen. Though her own had widened in a frightened recognition, she looked down at her hands and kept her gaze there for the remainder of the meeting. The man next to her, her son, was one of those who instantly fell a little bit in love with Michael.
“She bought her spot, just like all the other rich fucks.”
“So she won’t be joining us back at the Sanctuary,” you tease.
“Absolutely not, especially now that I have no use for her and her powers.” 
Ever since ending the world, Michael’s powers have blossomed into a whole different beast. He’s so powerful now that you don’t even know the extent, and you don’t think you want to. Where before, he would have needed the help of a voodoo queen or the Supreme when doing something especially complicated or out of his wheelhouse (such as enlisting Dinah’s help when you ate Satan’s poisoned apple or getting a spell from Mallory to reveal the ghost of Cordelia Goode), now, their powers would be worthless to him. You’re no expert when it comes to magic, but you think that his power must be equal to at least ten Supremes.
You certainly don’t want to test that theory.
“How many survivors will be accompanying us back to the Sanctuary, do you think?” you ask.
“Considering I’m not hopeful about interviews, there will be two. A man and a woman, both selected for their optimal genetics.” The interviews are never something to be hopeful over, because they almost always are a disappointment. In the other twelve Outposts, there have been a total of nine survivors that impressed Michael enough with interviews alone that he spared them from their original fates and gave them a spot at the Sanctuary.
“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the two that are very obviously in love with each other.”
“Which ones?”
You rifle through the folders until you find two with pictures that match who you were looking at in the library. “These two. Timothy and Emily.”
He looks up at you curiously. “How could you tell?”
“When they weren’t watching you, they were staring at each other.” 
Though the two were sat across the room from each other, their eyes were continually drawn together like magnets of differing polarities. You’re a little shocked that Michael couldn’t tell, considering his ‘night vision of the soul,’ as he calls it.
You just call it his creepy Antichrist powers.
You try not to, but you find yourself beginning to look through all of the files. They’re all fairly simple; a headshot, a bio, medical information. Really, Michael only uses them to look official and mysterious as he begins to pick their personalities apart bit by bit. For you however, they help to get to know the survivors, even just a little bit.
That’s precisely why you don’t like looking through these, why you don’t like these visits at all. Because knowing them, and knowing their ultimate fates, is something that makes you sick. Maybe that’s the price you’re forced to pay by the universe for being the Antichrist’s wife. You’re forced to be complicit in the continued mind games and eventual deaths of these people who thought that they were somehow safe after the bombs dropped.
Michael scoffs at the next file you flip open. “That’s one interview I’m dreading.”
“Her?”
“Mhm, Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt.” His words drip with disdain.
Coco…the name strikes some level of familiarity, but you can’t remember where you would have met a Coco. She didn’t look familiar when you saw her and her…interesting hair in the sitting room. She’s obviously a socialite, so maybe she was trending for some scandal or another in the Before. It’s so hard to remember that time, not only for the pain, but because it feels like an entire lifetime ago. 
(Was it really only eighteen months ago that you were preparing for graduation, scrolling through social media, and participating in regular 21st-century society?)
One person who does look familiar? The white-haired stylist whose work Coco sports and the one who claimed the first interview spot before anybody else, Mr. Gallant. You’d recognize him anywhere—his confidence in you was one of the sole reasons you had the courage to go down the stairs and join Michael for your first Cooperative function. But as for him?
“Mr. Gallant didn’t recognize us,” you broach.
“No, he wouldn’t. Those whose services are needed by the Cooperative but aren’t trusted enough to keep their mouths shut are…conditioned to forget.”
“You brainwash them,” you clarify.
“I don’t.” His lips twitch at his own joke. Of course, he doesn’t. That would be getting his hands dirty, which he hates doing, especially now that he has all the resources in the (under)world at his disposal.
“My bad.”
“You’re so interested in this group of survivors. Does that mean you’ll be joining me for interviews?”
When you joined Michael for the first time, at Outpost 6, you said yes when he asked you this question. It was something different, after all, and you were at first interested in being a part of the process and getting to know some new survivors. Of course, this was all before you actually sat in on the first couple of interviews and witnessed Michael’s interview ‘style’ firsthand.
You roll your eyes. “Ugh, no. I hate all the weird sexual tension you have with everyone you interview.”
Naturally, Michael gets the wrong idea and thinks that you’re jealous. He places his hands on the arms of your chair, and leans in until he can meet your eyes. “You’re my one and only, you know that.”
“I do.” You stare back at him unflinchingly. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”
“The sexual tension or that you’re my soulmate?” You simply raise an eyebrow in response, and Michael sighs before straightening up. “Well, a Gray should be arriving at any moment with Mr. Gallant, so if you don’t want to see any ‘weird sexual tension,’ I would suggest leaving now.” 
“Alright then, guess I’ll give myself a tour around ol’ Hawthorne.”
Michael pouts. “I was planning on taking you around tonight after Venable’s curfew.”
“Oh, that sucks. Have fun.” You give him a friendly pat on the shoulder as you leave the room.
Outpost 3 isn’t the largest Outpost you’ve visited, but it’s still pretty expansive. In most cases, this would mean lots of exploring to do. Unfortunately, it seems that Ms. Venable has stripped this place of anything that would make it unique. Hall after hall looks exactly the same in a way that would be disorienting if you weren’t keeping track of your whereabouts. The same boring, gray walls, the same black doors, the same frightened Grays scurrying around.
(If you had to pick the worst part about this Outpost so early on, you’d have to go with the forced servitude of some of the survivors here. Most of the other Outposts had a glorified chore chart that distributed tasks equally among survivors. Others had special privileges given to those who volunteered to work. This system? Well, this system has you hoping that Michael’s especially tough on Ms. Venable during her interview.)
After coming to the unfortunate conclusion that this is about as interesting as it’s going to get for you, you make your way back to where it all started: the library. This room at least has some character, between the fireplace and the music playing. Yes, it might be the same song on repeat, played on a vintage radio, but at least it’s something. 
As it turns out, you won’t be alone. The two that you had noticed earlier, the ones that couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other, are holding hands and whispering to each other on the couch. They spring apart when you enter, and it’s obvious that they’re not expecting anybody to see them. Their attitude, and the way they’re trying to play it off like they weren’t conspiring, gives you pause. What other severe rules has Ms. Venable imposed on those under her care?
“Hello,” you smile at the two warmly in between appraising the titles on the shelves. “Timothy and Emily, right? It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Timothy says warily.
Emily, who doesn’t have that same tact, immediately gets to her question. “Are you here to interview us?”
You shake your head. “No, I let Langdon do the interviewing.”
“So…what do you want with us?”
“I don’t want anything with you. I am trying to find some entertainment, because this place is already incredibly boring and I’ve barely been here six hours.”
Timothy laughs. “Yeah, that doesn’t really get better.”
They watch as you continue to peruse the books, waiting to see if this is some sort of trap devised by you and Michael. It’s not—you genuinely just want to find a book you haven’t read yet and escape to your bedroom for a few quiet hours. Unfortunately, nothing is modern here, not even the books, and you end up settling on Frankenstein, which you’ve read a couple of times now. 
“Is it alright if we ask you a couple of questions?” Timothy asks when you turn back around.
So much for a quiet few hours.
You sigh and sit down on the couch opposite the pair. “I can’t guarantee that I can answer all of them, but I’ll certainly try.”
“What’s it like out there?” Timothy asks the question, but both his and Emily’s eyes shine, desperate for any sort of news about the world outside the walls of Outpost 3. You wish you had better to share with them.
“Lawless. You remember the movies about the apocalypse?” They nod. “It’s worse than that. The world is completely unrecognizable, decimated by the bombs. If it weren’t for a map, I wouldn’t even know where we are. Those who survived the blast have been affected by the radiation from the fallout in the most terrible of ways. They have…sores and growths and cancer, all over their bodies. People kill each other for the smallest scrap of clothing. I’ve seen cannibals picking clean the bones of someone they once traveled with, someone that was once their friend.”
“My god,” Emily mutters.
“When M-–Langdon traveled to Outpost 2, his carriage was almost overrun by a band of survivors. They believed there was food inside, and even if there wasn’t, they wanted the chance to hurt somebody that hadn’t yet been hurt by nuclear fallout.” 
That had been a terrifying ordeal to hear Michael recount. He wasn’t scared at all, knowing both that the radiation couldn’t hurt him and that he could (did) kill all of them with the snap of his fingers. But you were, for the simple fact that the world that you had once lived in was completely gone and replaced by one where people hunted each other out of necessity, because it might be the only true meal they could eat in weeks.
“How did he get out of it?” Timothy wonders.
The true answer obviously isn’t something that you’re able to share, so you instead go with what would have been the answer if it were any other member of the Cooperative in the carriage. “The bodies of the carriage have an electric current that can be activated in case of emergency. The attackers were all electrocuted with the push of a button.”
“Langdon mentioned a Sanctuary,” Emily says. “Is that where you live?”
“We both do.”
“What’s it like?” Timothy asks, while at the same time, Emily questions, “Where is it?”
“The Sanctuary is…well, it feels like the world never ended, that it just moved underground. As for the location, I’m afraid that’s classified.” You smile sympathetically, feeling a lot like Michael.
Now that this line of communication has been established, that Emily and Timothy now feel like they can trust you, you can practically see the plethora of questions that they want to ask.
“So how do you end up working for an organization like the Cooperative?”
Now that’s a question you haven’t been asked before. “It’s kind of a long story,” you say with an awkward laugh, wracking your brain to come up with a lie convincing enough that they believe it.
Before you can, the sound of a cane clicking slowly across the floor stops you. You look in the direction of the entryway, where none other than your dour host stands. Her bright orange hair stands in stark contrast to the rest of her outfit, black like yours. She smiles at you with darkly painted lips, but it’s a smile that holds absolutely no warmth.
“Dinner is served,” she announces.
The three of you stand, but only two start to follow Ms. Venable to the kitchen. “I’ll take my leave, then,” you say.
“You won’t be joining us?” She sounds a tad incredulous, as though nobody’s told her no in quite some time. That’s likely the case.
“The Cooperative supplies us with rations of our own, so as not to take from the Outposts’ stockpiles.”
It’s technically true. Michael would rather starve than eat the gelatinous cubes that constitute nutrition, and thanks to the endless powers he’s gifted with, meals remain the same as they are when at the Sanctuary.
“We shall see you tomorrow, then.”
You nod before smiling at Emily and Timothy. “It was nice talking to you.”
As you walk towards the office, you can already hear Venable questioning what it was that you talked about, trying to determine if the two gained an edge on making it to the Sanctuary. If only she knew that they’re practically guaranteed spots, you think with a quiet laugh.
Michael arrives at the office at the same time as you do, which is odd, considering he’s meant to be inside the office conducting his interviews. He takes your hand and kisses the back of it gently before opening the doors and leading you in.
“Where were you?” you ask.
He waves a hand and the doors close behind you. “Finishing up an interview.”
“Doing a little field work?”
“Something like that. Now, I’m starving, and I would very much like to enjoy dinner with some good company.”
At first, you felt a little bad eating your favorite foods while the rest of the inhabitants were forced to eat what was left of their rations. Why should you enjoy while they suffer? And then, you met the survivors, most of whom were filthy rich, and you felt okay with it.
Now, as you sit across from Michael enjoying an actual meal, you allow yourself to pretend for a little bit that your life is still as it was before the end. That this is a regular day after classes, and you’re eating a quick meal and enjoying the company of the man you love before you’re off to finish homework, go to an activity, or just hang out with friends. You miss the simplicity that you didn’t know you had, even still after eighteen months.
“How were your interviews?” you ask, trying to bask in that normalcy for as long as you can.
“Nothing to write home about, though I did learn that Ms. Venable is…shockingly self-conscious beneath her hard exterior.”
You scoff. “And that’s surprising to you?”
“No, I suppose not.”
“I talked with Emily and Timothy,” you mention.
“Please tell me they’re not as vapid as the rest of the inhabitants of this Outpost.”
“No, they’re…actually kinda cool.”
If you’re being honest with yourself, the reason that you immediately liked them so much is because they kind of remind you of you and Michael, before the apocalypse. They’re so in love with each other, so eager to just be near one another and enjoy their presence. It brings you back to New Orleans, walking through the market arm in arm as you searched for the perfect gift for Kate and he eagerly shared what he had learned when looking up grad schools for you. What you wouldn’t give to be showing him how to catch fireflies, or enjoying a sugary treat together.
Shouting sounds from downstairs, a loud argument starting to take place and distracting you from your thoughts. While you strain to try and hear what’s being yelled about, Michael simply smirks. “Took them long enough.”
Neither of you is surprised, because this is what always happens when Michael arrives at an Outpost. He, quite literally, brings Hell with him. It’s an interesting side effect of what happens when an Antichrist inhabits your space. Those walls that people put up, the rules that they live their lives by, crumble when the living embodiment of sin walks in. From there, it’s only a matter of time until everything unravels and they begin giving in to those seven deadly sins. As you listen to wrath begin to cloud minds, you can practically see Michael becoming more powerful thanks to it.
Later, wrath continues, along with a side of lust.
High-pitched shrieking, so different from the argumentative yelling of earlier, wakes you from the dozing you had taken to while trying to read Michael’s interview reports after dinner. You scramble to sit up in your chair, looking at Michael with wide eyes.
“What was that?” you ask.
He doesn’t even tear his eyes away from the computer to look at you, simply waving a hand nonchalantly. “Oh, Timothy and Emily have just been caught having sex. They’re about to be executed.”
“What?” You stand up in alarm, sure that this is actual cause for alarm. Michael, on the other hand, doesn’t even react to your reaction. “Michael!” you snap, desperately wanting him to show some kind of humanity.
Finally, he turns around in his chair and sighs as though you’re interrupting your work, which you know for a fact you’re not. “Yes?”
“We can’t let them die.”
“We won’t.”
You look at him in disbelief, because it sure looks like he’s going to let them die. “Then why aren’t you stopping this?”
Michael finally joins you in standing, taking your hands in his and squeezing reassuringly. “It’s sweet of you to worry about them, and I promise you that they will not die before reaching the Sanctuary. I’ll stop this when the time is right. First, however,” he smiles, “I’d like to enjoy their terror for a bit.”
“Every time I think you can’t possibly let me down more than you already have, you prove me wrong.” 
Michael’s face falls at the barb that hits unexpectedly deep, but you don’t have it in you to claim any sort of victory in this. Anger, that heady emotion that’s fueled you up until now, has completely left you at this latest example of Michael’s lack of humanity. All that remains now is disappointment, and it’s a disappointment that leaves you tired. Tired of these games, tired of the life that you’ve found yourself in, tired of being able to do nothing but watch.
Except, you can do something this time. In this Outpost, you have the same amount of power as Michael. With that in mind, you pull your hands free and make for the door.
“C’mon, where are you going?” Michael calls after you.
You don’t answer him, because he knows as well as you. If he won’t put a stop to this, then you will.
///
Tag List: @thatonehumanbeing05 @xavierplympton @hecohansen31 @codycrazy @love-on-the-murder-scene @michaellangdonswhore @nsainmoonchild @aftertheglitterfades @iamlivingforturner @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @angistopit @littleangel4996 @xo-angel-ox @ajokeformur-ray @iamavailablesstuff
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vampyrsm · 2 years
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'The Forbidden Flame.' Chapter II Prince Bakugou Katsuki x Reader
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Synopsis: The Summer Festival is finally here. The tournament is meant to bring together the noble families of Ilgis, but instead, a clear divide is made when the Prince is unable to push down the anger that bubbles from his mouth like fiery lava.
Warnings: MDNI. There is no smut but it is graphic. Mentions of flaying, mentions of torture, slight misogynistic views, very detailed descriptions of violence, blood, fighting, character death, jealousy, yandere behaviour(?). Please take care with the warnings.
Word Count: 6829.
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A rustle of wind blew through the branches of the old grand oak trees that hung overhead and the long grass that came up to your calves. The birds were loud this morning, chirping as they sang their usual morning song to signify the start of the day. Sitting in this field not too far from your home was tranquil. It wasn't much, just a humble log cabin in which you and your family lived. You had a brother, a younger sister and of course your mother and father. Everything was great, the family business was thriving with the call for more weapons on the frontline.
You just never imagined that the frontline would be so close to home.
A long droning noise, similar to that of a horn of some kind, reverberated against your chest, the birds had fallen silent you noted and it was like the wind had died in the air. It was the only calm you got before you heard the screech of a man—no, a warcry—breech through the treeline at the edge of the field you were lounging in. It all happened so quickly, that you couldn't recognise the sigils of the men racing out of the forest with their rusted bronze axes and spears, their skin painted with dried blood and cracked white paint. That could only mean one thing, it was a northern tribe.
These northern tribes were never one to bend under the rule of the crown, they were known to rape and pillage the villages closest to their outposts that were so deep north that no one believed they could live up there in such horrific conditions. The stories they told of these tribes were ones you grew up on, having your mother tell the darkest of stories to ensure you never went out alone in the dark as a child. If you did, she said, you'd be taken away by these men in wolf fur and used as a sacrifice to their God; the Ice Giant.
Just as you scampered to get to your feet, grasping at the ends of your skirt to make sure you didn't tumble over yourself. You felt a different kind of booming chill you right to your bones, even the sound of the tribe running directly towards you was drowned out by something you could never, ever forget. It happened all very quickly, there was a brief moment of absolute silence before a screeching roar ripped through the air and then something darker than the night sky shot through the sky like an arrow fired from a bow.
You weren't a complete idiot, you knew what that was. It was a dragon, and only one family in the entire realm had dragons like that.
You felt the heat hit you like a brick wall, making you hiss and shield your face away with your arms when the blazing inferno spiralled down from the black creature in the sky. The screams of the men were drowned out by the sizzling of their bodies, by the whoosh of large wings that beat once before disappearing again into the clouds overhead.
Once you believed it to be clear, you slowly dropped your arms down to only stare in horror at the sight before you. There wasn't even anything left of the men, their weapons nothing but bubbling steel and their bodies were ash, flurrying away when another strong breeze rustled through the trees shaking you from your staring.
You had to get home, if the tribes were this close then your family could be in danger too. They clearly weren't a small tribe, and if the Northmen had to get a dragon involved in a fight—you hated to think about just how large scale of an attack was hitting the village you lived in.
Sprinting back towards your home, the smell of smoke and something you now knew was the smell of flesh that had been burned by something hotter than any flame you had ever seen. It turned your stomach uncomfortably, you worried about your family. Your father wasn't home, he had gone into the next village over to trade for the upcoming winter, your brother was the only man left in the house to defend your mother and sister but would he be enough?
These men were brutes.
You skidded around the loose dirt path that led up towards your home, but you could already see the fire from here. The smoke was high up into the sky, a signal to those who were passing through that the house had been successfully raided and to you, a signal that your worst nightmare had come true. But it was much, much worse than you could've ever imagined. The first person you saw was your brother, or rather, parts of him. They flayed him, like some deer, he was splayed out against the wooden door that had been ripped off of its hinges and used as the board to torture him.
The scream didn't fully escape your throat until you glanced through the now open doorway, and there was your mother. You couldn't identify what had killed her, or how they had managed to mangle her body so badly with just the use of their bare hands. The bile burned at your throat, your body lurching over to expel everything you had eaten for your breakfast that morning. You couldn't see your sister's body, she was much younger than you, your mind instantly leapt at the idea that she had been taken, the stories your mother told you as a child had come true. Your little sister would be used as one of their sacrifices, and there was nothing you could do.
...
You gasped as you sat up in the furs of your bed, hands clamping down into the sheep skin and fur to cling to it—to reality. It was just a nightmare, you had to keep reminding yourself, just a nightmare to taunt you. Your skin felt clammy, hair sticking to the back of your neck and around your face as you heaved in deep and heavy breaths. Glancing towards the cracked open window, the sun was just starting to rise, being so far into the city you didn't hear the chirp of birds. You missed your home, the south wasn't nearly as accommodating compared to further up north. The ground was mostly dried out from the heat, the water tasted different and the people here were much more hostile.
It didn't feel like home to you, but you had no choice but to follow your father here after the events that happened.
Deciding to get on with your day, you got up, trying not to cringe at the wet patch of sweat left in your wake in the many furs and sheets that you had bundled yourself up in last night. If the sun was just rising, you wouldn't have long until your father was awake. You had to get the order of weapons he had made yesterday to the arena before it all started, which gave you roughly two hours to get it completed. It shouldn't take too long, if you get through the city streets fast enough then you'd have time to spare before you attend the tournament.
With a plan now in mind, you got to starting your day properly. Taking a quick bath in the wooden tub, was more like a bucket than anything but it would have to do to just rid the sweat and the lingering reminder of the nightmare from your body. It wasn't unusual for you to get these sorts of nightmares, but it was no real surprise when they started to pop up more frequently ever since you started to live deeper into Dragon's Perch, seeing the dragons pass overhead almost every day was enough to send a shockwave of awful memories through you.
By the time you were ready to start loading the weapons on the cart, the streets had slowly started to wake up. Drunkards crawling from their shadowed sleeping spots in the dark alleys and young boys running through the streets with their excitement bubbling at the prospect of seeing the dragons up close and personal today. It was always a spectacle, everyone loved to be near the beasts, it was very rare otherwise to get close to them.
Hauling the weapons onto the cart seemed to be a job you underestimated, your father must've made more than he needed to. It made sense, you supposed, that a lot of the weapons would be destroyed by nightfall from the sheer ferocity of the fights that would happen in just a few hours. Lifting up one of the boxes seemed to be your downfall, a foot wobbling on the uneven cobblestone and the weapons clanged against one another as you tried to lift the box high enough to just shove it onto the cart.
A curse word was all you were able to shout, ankle rolling beneath you and you braced to expect the cold floor beneath your back and the possibility of being impaled by one of the many swords. That was until a large hand clasped around your waist, and forced your back to meet a solid body of warmth. Tentatively you looked up, expecting to see an old man or someone worse coming to your rescue, but you were pleasantly surprised by the head of green curls, some darker than others to give the illusion that he had black hair too.
His eyes reminded you of home, they were green, but they were warm also. Like he would never do anything wrong to you, that he would always make you smile no matter what. You felt safe. He was massive, at least a foot on you in height but he was slim, well-built you realised from the sturdy way he was holding your body effortlessly, not even noticing that he had used a single hand to grab the box of swords to push it onto the cart in front of you.
Realising you had been staring too long, you blinked quickly and removed yourself from his grasp and patted down your dress. You turned to face him properly, head forced back to meet his gaze. "Thank you, for saving me from a very sad death." you tried to joke lightly, smiling at him until he smiled back just as gently, a large hand running through the back of his hair.
"No need to thank me. Just happened to be at the right place at the right time I suppose." His accent was northern, painfully so, it made your eyes widen a little in curiosity. He sounded like he came from The Frozen Reach. "Do you need help with the rest of them?", he pointed to the large stack of boxes and crates that needed to be hauled up.
"Oh! Right," you turned to look at the boxes, huffing at the sight of them all. "If you wouldn't mind, of course. I don't want to keep you from your morning, it's going to be a very busy day." you glanced back at him, but he was already moving to the boxes and hauling up two of them effortlessly on top of each other.
He deposited them on the cart, moving to get another before he spoke "It's no problem, really, I don't have much to do today other than attending the tournaments later today." It made sense, most men didn't work today unless they were older, or too young to carry the heavy stuff. It was all about them getting a chance to prove that they were "real men", a barbaric way of doing it but it was something they apparently wanted.
You nodded, helping him with readjusting the crates on the cart in order to make sure they all fit. "Are you a fighter?" you asked, eyes trailing over the obvious muscles he was sporting despite being so lean, that he looked like he was a soldier. Perhaps a commander of some kind. If he was from The Frozen Reach, it was very likely he was a nobleman of his own house given his stature and the way he spoke, it wasn't inelegant as some of the other northern men you had met.
"Today I am," he smiled, pushing another crate on the cart. "But usually I'm just a stablehand." You blinked at him, wide eyes and slightly gaping mouth. A stablehand? He didn't look the type! Most of them were scrawny little boys who were being disciplined for being little shits to their fathers! He was a grown man, a big grown man. He caught the look on your face, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. "I know, I don't seem the type."
"No!" you started, "I mean, you seem far too..." he laughed when you gestured at his height and the size of his arms. "I would've never thought you were a stablehand, may I ask who for?" That made him stop for a moment, running a hand up along his forehead and through his hair, he eyed you for a moment clearly making some sort of silent judgement about his next words.
He must've come to a good decision as his shoulders relaxed, leaning a hip against the cart. "The Todoroki's." you gasped, the Todoroki's were a big house. One of the more noble ones, they were known for their fiery temperament in battle, and their unwavering need to be the best. "Though I rarely interact with Lord Enji, I'm more of a stablehand for his son."
"You mean the Shoto Todoroki?" he nodded. "Wow, I mean, you must be the subject of a lot of ire and envy from all the women in the North. I'm sure even they would muck out his stables if it meant to breathe the same air as him!" you exclaimed, it was true, the young Lord was no secret from the realm. Especially to those up north, he was almost like royalty himself—just without the crown, and dragons. Though you wonder what he would look like on a dragon, elegant and so graceful most likely. Nothing like the barbaric prince who grinned when he watched his dragon rip apart outposts.
"It sounds like you might be one of them," he winks, and you blush profusely and shake your head. Of course, you weren't blind, you could see that Shoto was very, very attractive but he was a Lord. Highborn, he was destined for great things whereas you were just a lowborn girl who worked for her blacksmith of a father.
"Oh, no, I don't think I could work with horses all day," you started, moving to connect the cart to your own family horse. "What I mean is it's not a bad job! Of course. I just wouldn't like to do it." you tried to recover, but the green-haired man didn't seem bothered.
Instead, he just shrugged a little, smiling. "It's not for everyone I get it, I'm happy to just have a place to sleep and eat every night." that got your attention as you sat on the wooden bench of the cart, the man sitting down next to you.
"I never got your name," you clicked your tongue, directing the horse on through the streets, they were much busier than you would've liked but it wasn't too bad. People moved out of the way quickly enough. "You speak well, so I'm assuming you come from a noble house."
The man next to you shifted, you were too focused on the road ahead of you to see the uncomfortable expression on his face. "Oh, Izuku." he supplied, just a first name was a little odd so you side-eyed him for a second, instantly catching his gaze. "Midoriya, it's a uh, dead house." That made more sense, but it was still odd that he referred to it as a dead house, a lot of people would be still brimming with pride that they couldn't be fully defeated. It left an odd feeling in your stomach.
"I see, sorry for asking." you were quick enough to reply, tightening your hands on the reigns. "I don't recognise the name, maybe it's because I'm not from as far north as you?" you wanted him to not feel so shameful about his name, having a house name was a prideful thing. You would kill to have a name worth recognising, but alas no one ever recognised the blacksmith's family never mind the blacksmith's daughter.
"Maybe," was all he replied with, again leaving you with an air of uncertainty.
The rest of the ride was relevantly silent, not that you minded much. Despite the man having the face of an angel, and a voice to match, he gave you an odd sense of dread that set deep in your stomach. It wasn't as if you felt immediate danger, it was more... the idea that he was hiding the truth behind who he really was. Only people who wished to hide from something, or someone, would say their house was dead. After all, who would search for a dead man?
Arriving at The Pandemonium, you noticed several other carts had arrived filled to the brim with armour, sigils on shields that would be wielded in just a few short hours. Numerous men with the Bakugou sigil on their chests were moving around, all the King's men ordering about the cart drivers and other workers to make sure the day went off without a hitch. It wasn't long before you were seen to, the man in the black armour giving you a look over before his eyes locked onto the tall green-haired man next to you.
You watched as the soldier's eyes wandered over his features for a moment, eyes darting from the green curls and down to his stature. Izuku was rigid as a rock wall, unwavering as he stared down at the man who was inspecting just a little too closely. Why would the King's men have an interest in Izuku? It made the palms of your hands sweaty around the reigns, your heart thundering in your chest at the prospect of being turned away. Your father would be furious, you dread to imagine what he'd do if you got turned away from the arena. He would—
"Good to go." The Soldier commented finally, a wave of relief washing over you from head to toe and you saw Izuku visibly relax a little out of the corner of your eye. Was he nervous too? I suppose it makes sense, it wouldn't be the King who deals with him directly but rather the Prince as he was commander of the army and all its men. The King was just to who they swore loyalty. You thanked the man, making haste to click your tongue and jostle the reigns slightly to get the horse and cart back into motion.
The back entrance to The Pandemonium was essentially just a large cave opening, carved out to allow the entry of the biggest of dragons. There were columns supporting the entrance from where it had been hand-carved, it was made from what looked like a mixture of stone and obsidian. The long tunnel entrance was dark, just the occasional oil lamp that was perched within a carved-out ditch in the wall, most likely to ensure the dragons didn't accidentally hit them on their way past you supposed.
It was like all sound suddenly vanished once you were completely in the tunnel, the drip of water from the limestone stalactites above and the rattling of the wooden cart behind you. It was unnerving, the darkness moved and flickered as if something was darting about to avoid being seen. Could it be a dragon? Would it attack? If it was small enough to hide in the shadows then perhaps it was just a young dragon, did they have those? Your mind was running a mile a minute as your eyes darted from corner to corner, flinching when the cart bumped into a hole and splashed water up onto your feet through the gaps of the wooden cart.
Izuku was watching you out of the corner of his eye, observing each flinch and hitch of your breath as you continued to venture further into the tunnel. He shifted his body slightly closer, large thigh now pressed against your own and he wasn't sure if you knew what you were doing, but you seemed to lean more into him as if you knew he'd protect you from the darkness, and what lurks there.
Or rather, who lurks there. He's familiar with that feeling of eyes hotter than hellfire boring into his skin, he knew just who was lurking in the veil of darkness. And Izuku couldn't stop the way his lips curled up into a smirk, of course he'd come out early to the Dragon's pit.
The low groaning of the metal gate at the end of the tunnel finally allowed you to relax, edging slightly away from the man to who you subconsciously leaned closer for safety. It felt like eyes were on you like something was preying on you. It was an unnerving feeling, something you had only ever felt once before when you had seen eyes as red as blood lurking outside of your home not too many nights ago.
Izuku was first to hop off of the cart once it slowed to a stop, helping you down and making quick work of offloading everything from the carts. At least now you can say you got them delivered safely, your father would have no reason to scream and shout at you now. Perhaps he'd actually smile this time. The thought was just a fantasy, of course, you knew your father hadn't smiled since the death of your family and he most definitely wouldn't stop shouting at you—blaming you for everything.
"Are you okay?" Izuku asked, having seen you stand staring blankly at the cart in front of you. He had finished unloading the rest for you, you hadn't even noticed until you blinked away the darkness shielding your eyes and you looked up at the man in question. "Does this place scare you that much?"
You laughed, albeit rather nervously and breathy which didn't help your case at all. "Oh, no, it's nothing." you smiled at him, eyes darting back to the cart and then to the unloaded boxes. "Thank you for this, really. You didn't have to."
Izuku shook his head, that charming smile gracing his lips again. "Don't worry about it, I'm always happy to help someone as beautiful as you." the comment made you blush, hard, the heat flooding your face made your eyes widen and abruptly look away from him. His laugh was loud, bouncing off of the rocky cavern walls, it was a joyful laugh but it felt almost predatory in such an empty space. "Sorry, that was a bit too forward. Even for me."
"No, no, it's just I don't hear that very often," you admitted, it was true, not many men would say such things to you. You were just a blacksmith's daughter, the daughter of a mostly dead family—you were too much baggage for anyone to take on, and the idea of a quick fuck had never appealed to you much.
It was quiet for a moment between the two of you before you jumped out of your skin at the walls rumbling with a loud roar that seemed so much louder than it should've been. It was as if it was right behind you. The walls crumbled a little at the sheer force of the roar, and your eyes briefly darted across to Izuku who was stood stonefaced and unflinching at the noise. How could he not be scared?
"Promise they're not as close as it might sound," was all he offered, a gentle smile on his face that didn't quite match the odd glaze of his forest green eyes. Something crawled down your spine, something like the realisation that this man was no longer safe to be around, especially not in a dark damp cave surrounded by roaring dragons and hardly lit oil lamps.
"R-Right," you cleared your throat, hopping back onto the empty cart and adjusting the reigns in your hands. "We should be getting back, we have only two hours until the first fight." You watched his face light up when you mentioned the fight, and he wasted no time in hopping back onto the cart with a different air of excitement about him now. Maybe you'd put a little more effort into making sure you got your cart back home quicker than usual, you had to get away from this man.
...
Crimson.
That was all that shrouded his eyes, his head pounding with the blood that was sloshing around his body in heated waves. He was enraged, the pounding of his heart was like a drum in his ears. The metal that was currently in his hand bending under the pressure of being crushed inside of his curled fist, and the chatter around him was loud. Too loud. Everything was too loud, and far too much for the Dragon Prince.
Katsuki had never felt this kind of rage, it was a bubbling type that built up from his stomach and encased his heart before it clawed up at his throat like a volcano ready to erupt. And all his mind could supply in a time like this was the same images on repeat, over and over. And each time they always involved you. He didn't understand it, this sudden obsession his mind had taken with you, he shouldn't have cared when he was lurking in the shadows on the way to Xol, when he heard a voice he hadn't expected to hear today.
His stomach turned at the reminder of how the familiar green-haired man pushed himself closer to your body on that cart, how he draped himself practically around you—as if that could ever stop Katsuki or any of the dragons that were just beyond the walls surrounding you. It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't caught the glimpse of that self-satisfied smirk on Izuku's face, the way his eyes were darkened with something Katsuki had only ever seen in the worst of men.
"Your Grace?" came the voice of one of his guards, his eyes darting to look at who dared to address him just to come face to face with Eijirou, the man had removed his usual helmet and held it under his arm. Just to his side were the other two guards assigned to the prince; Denki Kaminari and Hanta Sero. The two were just as fearlessly loyal as their tall red-haired commander. All of them would be having their own fights today, it was a festival of celebration and everyone was invited to take part.
Of course, though, they'd never fight the Prince himself out of fear of what may overtake him in the throes of intense battle and bloodlust.
Katsuki blinked away the imagery in his mind, trying his hardest to focus for the remainder of the day. He can't afford a slipup, not if his father was watching so closely. "What is it?" he snapped back to Eijirou, the man seeming relieved that he got a semi-normal response from the blonde man.
"It's starting, you'll be up first so they can free you up for the rest of the day." Eijirou stepped back once Katsuki got up from his perched position on top of the old wooden table, he stretched his arms high above his head and rolled his neck from side to side.
The first thing of the day was the hand-to-hand combat fighting, later in the evening would they bring out the dragons as they were creatures of the night, they'd be more 'feisty' to fight with. Katsuki knew he'd come out on top of the fights, he always did. The only fight he had looked forward to was the one with the bastard of Blacksummit but now that had been ripped from beneath him and replaced with this new burning rage he had felt from this morning.
On the other side of the portcullis, Katsuki could see the large crowd that had filled the seating area that surrounded the sand pit. It was deep because of the dragons, but that also meant he would be able to get away with causing damage before someone would come down and stop him. It was a messed-up thought process, but he needed the outlet he realised, if he didn't find someone to punch and kick the living shit out of then he wonders if he would finally explode from the pure anger that was festering in his body.
The portcullis screeched as it rolled upwards, and the uproar of cheering got louder at the realisation that it was about to start. Katsuki could now see his father and mother up in the royal stand, the large throne that had been made just for him sticking out like a sore thumb whilst his mother's glare was deadly once they met eyes. He stepped out into the stream of light that came from the open top of the arena, the screams and clapping thunderously loud against his ears.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" The Herald yells loud enough over the crowd, gaining their attention instantly. "Today marks the start of the long summer! And what better way to start such a season than to have our very own Prince of the Dragons fight for us!" The crowd cheers loudly. The fucked up idea of seeing blood and guts spilt by one man gave Katsuki goosebumps. They all came here for him.
Katsuki stood just in the centre of the arena now, he wasn't wearing his traditional armour that one might see when jousting or sword fighting. He abandoned it all for a bare chest, only his forearms covered by tight black sleeves and fitting trousers made of sheep skin that would allow enough movement for him to really lay into whoever was unlucky enough to face him. Around his neck was his family sigil engraved into a necklace, made up of obsidian, glinting in the morning sun as he turned to gauge the audience.
His eyes honed in on a head of green, and then your own. His heart lurched in his chest, you were cornered by the man once again who was crowding you against the seat you were in. Whispering something in your ear and all Katsuki could do is watch at the way your eyes were pleading with his very own, why would you plead for him? He didn't get the chance to think more when the sound of clinking metal and scuffed feet in the sand announced his first rival.
By the looks of it, it was one of the lesser houses' sons, probably pushed in by his father or brothers to be humiliated in front of most of Corvos. Katsuki rolled his shoulders, lowering his stance slightly as the man stripped his own armour off—Katsuki imagines that the boy most likely believes somehow that it would make the fight 'fair', but in truth, it was already over before it began. The poor boy would probably have life-changing injuries once Katsuki was through with him.
Katsuki was the first to make a move, dashing forward that got a loud cheer from the crowd and his arm reared back, a vicious snarl on his face when he saw the fear in the boy's eyes as he widened them, finally realising just who the fuck he was fighting. The second Katsuki felt skin connect with the flesh of his knuckles, it was like his mind blacked out. Giving over the reigns to the pure primal part of himself that fed off of the screams of the crowd when he landed a particularly nasty punch or when he kicked so hard the entire arena cringed at the sound of the other person's bones snapping from the force.
The next time Katsuki blinked he was standing in the centre of the arena again, watching as the squires dragged off another unfortunate victim. His chest was heaving in heavy breaths, his once clean bare chest was now coated in a thick layer of sticky sweat and blood that didn't belong to him. His ashen hair was wilder than usual, and his blood-red eyes were scanning the crowd, in a way a predator would when searching for their prey, as he tried to figure out if he had won already or if someone would dare to challenge him one final time—
"It seems we have one more challenger for the Prince!" The Herald yells again, the crowd cheering right on cue and Katsuki turned just in time to see the man jump down from the ledge that led down from the crowd and into the pit, it wasn't usual for someone to jump in from the crowd but it also wasn't banned. It was a free-for-all after all. The beast deep in his heart snarled at the sight of green curls that bounced once he landed, and his muscles tensed when he stood to his full height.
Izuku Midoriya.
The young Lord of the House that rebelled against the crown.
Katsuki thought the fucker had run off and died somewhere like the sad pathetic bug that he was, but apparently by the looks of things he had been bulking up, training hard if the way his biceps rolled when he pulled off his own cotton shirt and threw it off to the side. Katsuki snarled, larger than normal canines on show and his pupils blown wide as he honed in on his next victim, this was the man that was all over you. This was the one who made you uncomfortable, the one who was smirking when you sought safety.
The Herald announced the start of the fight once again, and the cheers grew louder when Izuku was the first to make a move. His large bounding footsteps caught Katsuki by surprise, a man of that stature shouldn't move so quickly but alas, he was reeling back an arm and Katsuki registered the copper on his tongue before he realised he was staring up at the open ceiling of the arena.
"Ha, surprised to see a familiar face again?" Izuku taunted, words deaf to those in the crowd but louder than any warcry Katsuki had ever heard as the man lashed out for him again. This time Katsuki was quick to move out of the way, body bending to the side with practised ease before he swung his own fist forward, his right hook one of his most famous moves of the day.
Katsuki relished in the way Izuku's entire body reeled backwards from the uppercut, feet staggering back in the bloody sand. "No. Just surprised you had the fucking balls to step foot into my city, you lowlife piece of shit!" he roared, launching himself forward to collide hard with the man in a harsh tackle. Izuku went down hard, but still, he was able to get his hands pushed against the Prince's chest to practically propel him backwards and off of him before he could lock him into position.
Izuku wasted no time in getting up, wiping away the blood that was pouring from his nose with his battered and bruised fist. He was readying his next attack when he noticed Katsuki's eyes weren't even on Izuku anymore, but rather in the direction of where Izuku was previously.
Ah.
"Oh? Someone got your attention, your majesty?" Izuku snickered, enjoying the enraged look that Katsuki shot his way once he had fully gauged your reaction; you were watching with wide eyes but you weren't staring at Izuku, you were watching him. "Sorry to say this, but you don't have a chance in hell with someone as beautiful as her."
The reaction was immediate, Katsuki lurched forward with his fists ready to strike over and over but Izuku was just now warming up, practically dancing around each hit from the blonde. "Shut the fuck up." was all Katsuki could growl out over the rage crushing his throat, his vision was blurred around the edges as he watched Izuku's features light up with glee.
Izuku retaliated, fist reeling back to catch Katsuki directly in the chest which sent the prince tumbling backwards onto his ass, the crowd gasping at the rare sight of the Prince beneath someone. "She really is beautiful, isn't she?" the fake light tone Izuku adopted made Katsuki's stomach turn, the green-haired man approached Katsuki slowly, leering over him like a natural predator and the Prince the unsuspecting prey. "I bet she'll look even better when she's sprawled out beneath me, begging for me to ruin her. Like the common whore she is."
Something snapped deep inside of Katsuki's mind, the way Izuku spoke of you, sullying your name, disrespecting something that was going to be his. Izuku was about to open his mouth again when Katsuki slammed his fist against the broader man's knee, his body instantly crumbling to the floor as his knee buckled. He wasted no time in changing the positions, throwing Izuku down into the sand as he clambered up on top of him.
Izuku's eyes were wide, a maniac grin on his face that screamed he had finally won by managing to make the Prince unbelievably angry. Katsuki kept Izuku pinned beneath him, arms being crushed by the tense grip of the prince's thighs and he was pretty certain he had shattered one of Izuku's knees from the force of the fall. "Yeah, just like this. I bet she'll look even better when I rough her up a li—"
A solid punch to Izuku's jaw sent his head reeling to the side, spit and blood spraying from his mouth and mixing into the already blood-soaked sand. The crowd cheered, chants that vaguely sounded like "Kill! Kill! Kill him!", and the Prince of Dragons was never one to disappoint his people.
Katsuki made the decision, right then and there, that this would be the only true way to clear out the rage he felt, to soothe the burning jealousy that clawed at his skin. It wasn't like it was completely unwarranted either, the man beneath him was an enemy to the crown. His fist tightened again, blood pouring from the open cuts littering his knuckles, waiting for Izuku to meet his eye again before he brought his fist down again.
And again.
And again.
And.. again.
The crowd gasped, screaming in jubilation and disgust when there was a sickening crack followed by a loud squelch. Katsuki couldn't see anything but the red-tinted veil over his eyes as he watched Izuku's features morph from something akin to fear, a realisation that he had made a grave mistake in poking the dragon, and then into nothing but a bloodied mixture of protruding bones and brain matter that stuck to Katsuki's fists as he continued to lay fist after fist against the mans face.
The green of his hair turned to more of a dark green, almost black, with the blood soaking into it. Katsuki didn't stop once he felt the sand on the other side of Izuku's skull stick to his bloodied and most likely broken fists. All he could focus on was securing the fact this monster wouldn't be a threat to you, a threat to a future including the both of you.
This was all for you.
A set of large hands hooked under his armpits, yanking him rather viciously off of the lifeless body and his head lulled back, catching sight of the red hair of Eijirou who was shouting something over his head. Katsuki followed his line of sight, seeing his father stand up with his mother clasping a hand over her mouth. They knew Katsuki was a vicious fighter, but they had never seen him crush a man's head with his own bare hands and continue to rip him apart like he was the dragon.
Katsuki let his eyes drift over to where he last saw you, he thinks you're crying with the way your eyes are wide and you have both of your hands clutching against your stomach. You look sick, had he disgusted you? But he did this for you, can't you see? He did this to protect you, to defend your honour, to see that he was the perfect man for you—
The slam of the portcullis cut his view of you off, and he didn't fight the way Eijirou dragged him as if he wasn't the prince. He didn't care about how Eijirou was shouting at the other guards, demanding that they get Katsuki something to wash off the blood from his hands and to get a doctor down here immediately to tend to his wounds.
He didn't care about any of that because all he could focus on was you, and how you looked disgusted with him. Before his eyes rolled into the back of his skull from the exhaustion of splitting a man's head open with his bare hands, and the pain of his injuries setting in deep into his bones, he promised himself that he would seek you out. He'd find you, and he'd show you the reasonings behind his violent fight.
He'll show you.
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[Glossary] | [Masterlist] | [Previous] | [Next]
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credit for the background image/banner: @vampyrsm please do not plagiarise, or recommend my work to places such as TikTok. taglist: @lyn-soso
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hey there. hi. how's it going. boy it's great to be back at the old stomping grounds, time for me to whip out my ask! i am humbly requesting that wheeljack's tfa family gets murdered. i have a checklist to complete. first it was his tfp family, then himself, and tfa are the last ones on it
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Hey! :)
I’m gonna be real, I don’t have any snappy comments for this opener. What the fuck?
Well, uh… I guess it’s time for the wheels.
For those of you who don’t know, many months ago, I created three wheels to help me with these tragedy asks—one to select a victim character, one to choose the site of an injury (if applicable), and one to choose what kind of horrid fate would befall this character by the end of the drabble.
These wheels helped me drown TFP Magnus.
Now, for simplicity’s sake, I’m going to be sticking with the core TFA Cast—that’s Optimus, Ratchet, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Sari, Prowl, and Jazz.
The others get to be spared from the carnage.
For now.
Now, I’m going to use two of my wheels to select the means of death—and from there, I am going to try and craft the optimal tragedy scenario.
Angst Roulette. Are we all feeling lucky?
No? Good!
They had been warned, before they came to help.
They had been warned that they would probably lose more lives than they would be able to save, even with reinforcements from the Decepticons and the other reality—that the settlement and its inhabitants were lost, and that they should stay back to defend the rest of the unified Autobot and Decepticon space from this dire threat.
Simply hearing their name, “Quintessons”, had made the elder Cybertronians of Wheeljack’s reality take on looks of terror like the inhabitants of the other universe had never seen. Worse still, many of them could not recall exactly why the name was able to make them react as it did.
But in spite of their fear, in spite of their desire to live their lives in peace, they refused to let their younger alternates face this threat alone.
The armies of two Cybertrons set out to face the Quintesson threat, with the greater and more-experienced force engaging the enemy head-on while the smaller fleet worked on evacuation.
It didn’t seem fair, but the alternate Autobots had insisted. The sleeping giant watching from across the multiverse had awakened and risen up.
Only two ships from the home universe engaged the Quintessons alongside the alternate visitors: the Decepticon’s Nemesis II, and the Autobot’s Orion—better known as Omega Supreme.
They, however, did not engage unprotected; the Iron Will escorted the Nemesis II, while the Jackhammer II guarded Omega Supreme.
It was storming on the day the battle was fought.
The mountainous planet was covered in ice and snow, with frigid temperatures that would likely kill an alternate Cybertronian within minutes of exposure while one from this universe may last an hour or two at most. The settlers had lived in connected outposts, mining the ground below for precious materials and drilling deeply for oil.
The civilians’ cries for help screamed of strange beings from another world who sought to take control of their outposts and even their bodies.
This could not go unanswered.
But the battle was fierce—so fierce, very few left alive in this universe could remember anything that it could be compared to. Those from the other universe were far more accustomed to such things, and it showed in how they repelled enemy attacks and gave back stronger, fiercer blows.
Optimus Prime, the acting Magnus of this reality, believed that they could end this conflict before it truly began. His family by his side, he had hope.
That hope vanished when the Jackhammer took a blow to the side while defending the Orion from a missile that would have decimated the bridge.
The Iron Will had to disengage from its protection detail and dive down to follow the smaller ship, with Ultra Magnus’s voice telling everyone to stay calm and that he would retrieve Wheeljack.
There was fear in his voice.
That same fear hung heavy in the air, and made Optimus’s mind go blank.
They had just gotten Prowl back, their family was finally together again.
They couldn’t be ripped apart, now.
They couldn’t.
“Optimus!” Someone was shouting. “OPTIMUS!”The Prime gasped, looking around frantically, and he saw Sari standing beside his servo, gripping his finger frantically as her helmet disengaged. “Please, big guy—we need you! It’s only getting-!”
The ship rocked.
Sirens blared and lights flashed as the bridge went vertical. They were going down, fast.
It all seemed to happen in snapshots.
Ratchet was screaming for Omega Supreme to respond.
Bulkhead picked Bumblebee up and held him to his chest.
Jazz and Prowl held shaking servos out and tried to focus.
And Sari looked up at Optimus, her optics wide, just as the shields failed and the windows blew.
And after that, it all went dark.
“Prime! OPTIMUS!”
The Prime bolted up into a seated position, his whole body shaking, and someone immediately grabbed his arm and wrapped it around their shoulders. What was happening?
“Come on, kid—we gotta move!”
He was practically being dragged, one foot in front of the other. It was all a blur.
“Bulkhead!” Optimus looked back, and he saw Bumblebee trying to make the much-larger ‘bot move—but there was no response from him, and the battered but unharmed yellow mech was panicking. “Bulkhead, come on: we gotta go!”
“He’s gone!” Another voice snapped, and the Prime turned his head to see his helper—Ratchet, who looked a mix between furious and distraught. “We’ve got to get out of here, now! Move it!”
“Sari,” Optimus managed. “Where’s-? Whoa!”
The Prime was suddenly thrown out of a window and into a snowbank, and his audial sensors still rang as he looked around—trying to regain his bearings. They were on some sort of cliff-face at the base of a mountain, the ship was perched precariously as well as engulfed in flames, and-
Wait, what?
“Bulkhead.” Optimus was on his feet before he knew it. “Sari… Ratchet!”
The field-tech was there, throwing a screaming and fighting Bumblebee out of the same window and into the snow—then, he looked back. “Now, you two!” His fists shook at his sides. “The fire is spreading! Omega won’t last, much longer!”
Optimus could see into the ship.
Bulkhead’s frame was gray.
Prowl was limping badly, and Jazz was trying to get him to the window. They were both hurt, and moving far too slowly.
Ratchet was reaching out with his magnets to try and help them escape.
The ship jerked.
Jazz looked up, then his optics narrowed as he suddenly threw Prowl towards Ratchet.
Ratchet’s magnets caught Prowl and pulled him out of the ship, then the field-tech reached out.
And Jazz gave one last smile before the ship fell backwards and off of the edge of the cliff.
“No!” Optimus ran to the edge of the cliff just as Ratchet did, the two of them watching in dismay as waves of transwarp energy went out and a brilliant beam of light went up into the sky.
Once it was over, there was just fire and smoke.
No Bulkhead. No Jazz.
No Sari.
Optimus sank down into a seated position, his whole frame shaking as he watched the distant blaze. Was it from the grief, fear, or cold?
“S-Sari?” A voice asked, and Optimus looked somehow back. Bumblebee was kneeling over something in the snow, his optics wide as he picked it up and cradled it to his chest. The Prime saw a little arm fall down, frost-covered and stained with pink and red. “Sari? No! N-No…”
This couldn’t be happening.
It couldn’t be happening.
Optimus was going to wake up in his room, having never heard of any Quintesson threat.
He would get to see Bulkhead, Jazz, and Sari in the mess hall for their first refueling.
While Sari made her daily call to her dad, Optimus might stop to visit Omega Supreme.
Everything was fine.
Everything had to be fine.
Everything had to be fine—because if it wasn’t, it would be because Optimus froze up. He couldn’t keep it together, and then the ship crashed and-
“Bumblebee.” That was Prowl. “Bumblebee, the ice. This isn’t a cliff, it’s a glacier! It’s unstable!”
What?
Optimus heard the ice under Bumblebee crack.
The yellow mech looked up, his optics wide as he still clutched Sari’s little body to his chest.
The snapshots returned.
Optimus was on his feet.
Bumblebee threw Sari’s body to safety.
The ice cracked and came apart.
Bumblebee fell.
And Optimus jumped after him.
The smaller mech cried out as Optimus wrapped an arm around him and pointed his other arm up, firing a grappling hook. It caught the ice and held the two of them up, and Optimus let out a gasp of relief as he held Bumblebee close.
He’d saved him.
He’d saved someone.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he tried to reassure the smaller mech, who clung to him like a lifeline. “I’ve got you, and you’ll be okay.”
The ice gave.
Optimus looked up, his optics wide, as the two of them started to drop again. He could hear both Ratchet and Prowl just screaming.
Bumblebee was screaming, too.
But as his grappling hook slid back into place, all Optimus could do was hold Bumblebee to try and shield him—much like Bulkhead must have tried to do—and wait for their fall to end.
He hoped they’d wake up someplace better.
Ratchet and Prowl were at opposite sides of the hole in the ice, staring at it in disbelief.
Minutes.
Mere minutes, and they’d lost six members of their family to this horrible, frozen world.
“Don’t move,” was all Prowl could say, his whole frame trembling. “Just- Just don’t move.”
Ratchet couldn’t have moved if he tried. He could barely even form the barest wisp of thought.
He was supposed to protect these kids, all of ‘em.
And one by one, he was watching them all die.
He didn’t even know if Wheeljack survived his crash, if Ultra Magnus survived his attempt to rescue him, or if anyone he knew was alive.
It was just him and Prowl, perched on an Allspark-forsaken ice shelf, waiting… for what, exactly?
Waiting to see who would be the next to die?
Waiting to be rescued, and then live with this?
“… I-I’m cold,” Prowl admitted after a while. His optics were dim and his frame was coated in ice, and he looked at Ratchet like a scared sparkling. “Ratchet, I-… I really don’t want to die, again.”
Ratchet swallowed thickly. “I know, kid.”
Pit be damned, he wasn’t going to let the cyber-ninja face this alone—whatever the cost.
Slowly, Ratchet made his way around the hole in the ice, and he carefully gathered Prowl in his arms and moved the both of them against the mountain-side to try and find sanctuary from that bitter, biting wind. He continued to hold Prowl close as he sat down, cradling the smaller mech and waiting for whatever fate awaited them.
The cyber-ninja held the field-tech’s servo, and the grip was gradually growing weaker.
“… I’m tired,” Prowl whispered, no longer moving.
Ratchet couldn’t bear to explain that the young mech’s fuel lines were freezing in that bitter chill—that his small, slight frame just couldn’t take it.
“Yeah?” Ratchet asked. “Are you still cold?”
“No.”
“Do you wanna rest?” Ratchet tried his best to keep it together. “You can stay up, if you want. Try to be awake, when help gets here. I’m sure that ol’ Wheeljack and Magnus would appreciate it.”
“… I don’t think I can,” Prowl mumbled, his optics slowly drifting shut. “I’m sorry, Ratchet.”
Ratchet shook his head. “Nah, don’t- Don’t be, okay?” There was no sign that help was coming, and he didn’t want this kid to be scared. “You have nothing to be sorry for… So, you can just go on and get some rest now. You’ve earned it.” He nodded. “A-And we’ll all see you soon, okay? Me, the rest of the idiots—we’ll be there soon.”
Prowl hummed softly, nestling close.
And Ratchet watched his frame turn gray.
The old field-tech let out a shuddering sob, closing his optics, then he opened them again and looked up to see distant flashes in the stormy sky. The battle was still raging on, and he knew he would not live to see how it was going to end.
It was too cold, and… he was very tired.
That cold gradually started to fade away.
He couldn’t feel Prowl’s servo anymore.
“… You better still be alive, kid,” the field-tech said weakly. “You be alive, and you give ‘em Hell… and you go home with your conjunx, and you see your kid.” He gave a frail smile. “She’s- She’s gonna be amazing, just like they were… And you better not miss a thing. You hear me? Don’t you-” One of his sensors starting blaring, and he silenced it. “… Don’t you dare miss a thing, Wheeljack.”
It felt like too much to ask, given everything that had happened and that what was still to come.
He knew that, when he drifted off on that lonely cliff-side, he was going to be leaving a broken universe and what remained of a broken family behind him. They’d have to figure the rest out…
Alone.
Ratchet saw blaring warning signs in his vision as his aged systems finally lost the battle with the elements, and it got darker before it got brighter.
He wished that he could apologize.
He wished that he could show his gratitude.
And… he wished that he’d been less hesitant to tell his family that he loved them, and he hoped that his actions had spoken for him.
As it got brighter, he felt a smaller servo reach to hold his own again. “They did, Ratchet.”
And he knew that it was done, then.
They could all rest together, now.
And wait.
It was the Decepticons who called in the crash.
Ultra Magnus had barely managed to get himself and his unconscious conjunx back into the Iron Will, shaking and covered in frost, when the Megatron of this reality screamed the news.
The battle still raged, the storm was only growing more intense, and the evacuation was ongoing.
Ultra Magnus knew that one more venture into the cold could very well end his life, but he also knew no one else could detach themselves from the crisis at hand. He was already out of the fight.
So, while the engines protested against that frozen waste, he managed to get the Iron Will off of the ground and begin his search for the crash site—one which was rapidly being covered in ice and snow. There had been reports of a shortly-lived beacon, likely the result of the Allspark fragments within Omega Supreme destabilizing.
He had to hurry, or all would be lost.
But time had been lost, precious time.
By the time Ultra Magnus found the smoking wreck of Omega Supreme, he knew time was short if not already up—and yet, he still landed the Iron Will and clambered out to approach the frosty ruins. Most of the fires had long gone out—leaving only charred, twisted wreckage behind.
“Optimus!” The commander shouted, staggering through the snow and the wind. “Bumblebee!” He made his way into the remains of the ship, its walls helping to shield him. “Omega Supreme?!”
The gray walls had no answer for him.
And Ultra Magnus was doing his best not to panic. “Ratchet?! Prowl?!” He noticed a figure, and his optics widened. “Bulkhead!” He ran over and kneeled beside the form, reaching out only to swiftly draw back. Gray. “B-… Bulkhead?”
He knew it was a strong possibility.
He knew.
That didn’t make it any easier to accept.
Ultra Magnus clapped a servo over his mouth as he stood and stumbled back, his whole body heaving as he looked around for something—anything, really—to… what, exactly?
Convince himself that this wasn’t real?
Assure himself that there was a way to fix this?
Beg whoever was listening in this universe, either universe, any universe that fate could change?
Instead, his optics just found another little body—charred by the fires, and long turned gray.
Ultra Magnus’s servo fell as he stared at the body, and he-… He couldn’t just leave them there…
But the time he wasted getting their bodies onto his ship could be time that cost the others’ lives. As much as it hurt, he had to keep searching.
He checked his scanner again, but the storm was interfering. He couldn’t find their signatures.
He was on the bridge.
He knew that Optimus was commanding and that Ratchet would likely be on the bridge as well to support Omega Supreme. They should have been there, but they weren’t—and Bumblebee, Sari…
Ultra Magnus made his way over to that charred little body, and he gagged before he closed his optics and nodded shakily. Yes, that was Jazz.
Prowl was also not accounted for.
Five missing Autobots.
Three dead.
Ultra Magnus was trying to be a soldier about this for the sake of the missing, but… maybe he was getting old, or maybe the changes to life as of late had finally made him soft and there was no way to rebuild the shell that had somewhat protected his spark and mind during the war… he couldn’t.
He wasn’t a soldier, not now.
Just a terrified, grieving father.
Wheeljack woke up just as Ultra Magnus sat down beside him, covered in frost. They were in the Iron Will, and it was fraggin’ cold.
“Hey, Mags,” the white Wrecker mumbled, already waiting to be chewed out for his recklessness or even gently teased for the crash of another ship. “Thanks for the save.”
Ultra Magnus didn’t even look at him as he took off and started flying the ship, his narrowed optics focused on examining something outside.
“Impact damage to the front and the back. They landed on the glacier, then the ship fell. That means there could be survivors on the ledge.”
“Survivors?” Wheeljack sat up a bit, frowning. “Was there another crash?” He noticed that his conjunx’s servos were shaking. “Magnus?”
“… Omega Supreme was shot down,” Ultra Magnus revealed. “He, Bulkhead, and Jazz-…” His optics teared up. “I didn’t find any other bodies on the ship. They might be on the ledge.”
Wheeljack just stared at the other mech.
He heard the words, but they weren’t clicking.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think.
He tried to make a coherent thought, but all he saw were smiles. His kids, his family—so alive…
Ultra Magnus set the ship down, and he stood up and looked down at Wheeljack. “Stay here, and stay warm. I’m going to try and find them.”
Wheeljack still couldn’t make himself move as the ramp lowered and his conjunx went back into the storm. Then, before he knew it, he was up on his feet and running down the ramp with him.
Magnus didn’t seem surprised, didn’t even try to argue. Instead, he noticed a hole in the ice—and a tiny lump in the snow, barely visible anymore.
“Someone fell,” he decided, choking on his own words, and he watched as Wheeljack moved to dig whatever was in the snow out.
He closed his optics as his conjunx screamed and held the little body to his spark.
They’d never put into words after that day, but it was then—after finding Sari—that they just… knew… that there would be no survivors left to find, just eight bodies to bury.
They found Ratchet and Prowl, still clinging to each other, frozen against a cliff face.
The Decepticons had to retrieve Optimus and Bumblebee. Megatron quietly told the Autobots how it appeared that the Prime had died bravely, trying to protect a loved one.
Omega Supreme and Bulkhead died in the crash, and Jazz in the fall and fire.
The first three were gone before Ultra Magnus had even begun his search, and the final five before anyone had realized that the ship had fallen from its first crash site.
In a single bad day, eight lives were lost from their family—and from this universe, which desperately needed them. Sentinel, the Jettwins, Arcee, Blurr, Autobots, Decepticons—they didn’t know what to do without those eight, the ones who had finally brought peace to Cybertron.
Everyone felt… lost.
Then, the Quintesson fleet was ablaze.
All around, ships were blasted apart—crashing, burning, everything coming to a swift and deadly end in the skies above that frozen world.
And Wheeljack was eerily silent, his expression blank and frame weary, as he put a handful of Allspark fragments into Sentinel’s servos.
One had gone into the fueling Iron Will’s weapon systems, one was linked up to his ever-reliable electro-whip, and he wired the last shard into one of his own arms to charge a cannon.
All three fueled a rampage.
It didn’t make him feel any better.
It didn’t stop him from blaming himself.
It just burned his arm black.
It just meant that they could gather the dead and leave that frozen hell-world behind forever.
So, no one put up much of a fuss.
Two Cybertrons and and two Earths grieved the loss. Agent Fowler, the Darby family, Miko, Raf, and even the Fanzones came to the funeral to show support—especially to Wheeljack, Ultra Magnus, and Professor Sumdac.
The funeral was a surprisingly quiet affair despite the massive crowds that gathered. Many had a lot to say about the dead—Arcee spoke of Ratchet’s courage and kindness as well as his partnership with Omega Supreme, Kup told stories about Optimus as a student, young Drift came to say what he could for his fellow cyber-ninjas, and Fanzone even managed to deliver a kind speech about all the team did for Earth.
There were some surprising speeches.
Megatron commended Optimus’s skills as a leader, regarded Prowl as one of the finest warriors he had ever faced, and complimented Bulkhead’s intellect and mourned the loss of such a brilliant space-bridge technician.
Blitzwing commented about Bumblebee as a force on the battlefield even before his battle-mods had been unlocked, and said that the young ‘bot had managed to rattle Shockwave during their time boot camp by being close to catching the real spy—which he respected.
Blackarachnia and Sentinel came to apologize, one last time. When she cried, he said nothing and didn’t even look at her as he reached over and took her clawed servo in his.
The Optimus Prime from the other universe, holder of the Matrix and Master Archivist, gave a speech about the courage as well as the kindness held by the lost team. He asked that his fellow Cybertronians in both realities not scatter and fight because of their grief, but instead unite in honor of the lost to make a better future.
Ultra Magnus, Wheeljack, and Professor Sumdac could not speak. What words could they say that would make sparks and hearts less heavy?
After the Prime’s speech, however, the little servo the Prime was holding slipped away from his grip—and a very young sparkling toddled across the stage to approach the seven caskets.
Omega Supreme’s massive body was unable to be moved from that frozen world.
She fell and let out a soft grunt, then stood again and made her way to the smallest casket.
She frowned when she saw that gray little body, then looked up and raised her servos as someone gently picked her up—and she saw them all.
“Come on, kiddo,” Blackarachnia said softly as she turned away—Sentinel lingering by her side. “Let’s get you back to your parents, okay?”
“Oppy, Bee,” Strongarm protested, as those were the little nicknames for her siblings that she had learned how to say before then. “Bedtime?”
“Yeah.” Blackarachnia nodded shakily. “We need to let everyone rest, now. They’re very tired.”
Strongarm was still frowning as she was handed back to Ultra Magnus, who held her close.
When the funeral was over and the bodies had been laid to rest, Wheeljack left without a word.
He said nothing until Ultra Magnus found him in their quarters and carefully handed Strongarm to her other caregiver.
Wheeljack looked down at her, his expression blank, and she reached up and rested a servo on his face will a frown.
Then, Wheeljack hung his head and cried—and Ultra Magnus carefully wrapped his arms around his conjunx so that he could hold him and their little daughter close.
What were they supposed to do, now?
A young cadet spun an axe in her servo before placing it on her back, her optic-brow raised as she strolled into a meeting chamber.
“Okay, what’s the damage?”
Blackarachnia gestured, irked. “Dumbaft here is behind on his paperwork, again—and instead of doing something smart like asking you, Magnus, Blurr, or Megatron for help, he procrastinated even harder. Now, it’s a total clusterfuck.”
“Understatement.” Megatron was sitting at one end of the table, and he lowered a pair of reading spectacles to regard Strongarm. “I’ve already started work on repairing our finances, and Blurr forwarded the defense planning to Ultra Magnus before getting started on public relations and media. Arcee has taken education and the arts.” He produced a small smirk. “Congratulations, young one: you get energy and public works.”
“Fantastic.” Strongarm plopped down into her seat and grabbed a data-pad. “I’ll have to call the lieutenant and let him know I’ll be back late.” She glanced at her side, where Sentinel was hunched over and face-down on the table. “Sent, we’ve talked about this. You’re not running Cybertron alone, you’ve gotta let people help you.” She saw the Jettwins coming into the room with more stacks of data-pads. “… What the fuck, Sentinel?”
“Ugh…”
“That’s exactly what I asked,” Blackarachnia remarked as she sat down beside Strongarm.
The cadet chuckled, then she sighed and started to read. “Who can blame anyone for being in a funk, right now? It’s almost that day, again.”
Blackarachnia nodded. “Yeah. That’s the only reason why he’s not stuck to the ceiling.” Her face fell. “I can’t believe it’s been a million years.”
“Me, neither,” Strongarm admitted.
Blackarachnia glanced at her. “Do you still… remember them at all, even just a little bit?”
Strongarm paused, blinking, then she sighed. “It’s hard. I was so young, and it’s difficult to know if I’m remembering them or just the stories. Most of my life has been the after, the missing them.” She then looked at Blackarachnia, and she managed a smile. “But when I focus real hard, I think that I see their smiles—and hear their laughter.”
“Optimus had a memorable laugh,” Blackarachnia remarked, and they both laughed softly.
Sentinel raised his head and looked at them, and he smiled. “One of the last times I got to hear that laugh was after the Headmaster got me. He never told anyone what really happened.” He rolled his optics. “Wheeljack is another story.”
“It was Christmas, and I seem to remember one of us daring him to try some high-grade and ‘loosen up’,” Strongarm reminded him.
Sentinel huffed. “How was I supposed to know Wheeljack had a low tolerance for the stuff?”
“Because he told you he had a low tolerance,” Blackarchnia and Strongarm said together, both deadpanning, then all three burst out laughing.
“Some of us are trying to work here,” Blurr said.
Megatron reached back to stop Jetstorm from tipping over under the weight of a massive stack of data-pads. “Many of us even multitasking.”
“Easy,” Arcee chided them gently. “Strongarm is right. None of us have to do this alone.” She looked over at the trio, smiling. “And I think that allows a little bit of childishness, on occasion.”
Megatron just shook his head as he took the data-pads from Jetstorm and set them down.
“… It’s a marvel, how far we’ve come,” the former warlord said at last. “But I still wonder what might have been, had that day ended differently.”
Arcee nodded. “I think all of us do.” She looked at her data-pad, her expression softening. “But all we can do is hope we’ve done right by them.”
Megatron glanced over at Strongarm, Sentinel, and Blackarachnia as the Jettwins each threw themselves over one of Sentinel’s shoulders to join the conversation, earning more laughter.
“… Indeed,” he agreed, then got back to work.
Wheeljack sat hunched-over on a bench, his chin resting on folded servos as he gazed at a set of seven tombs flanked by massive oak trees.
A massive inscription engraved on the ground told a watered-down history of those honored there and their fates, including Omega Supreme—not there in body, but always there in spirit.
Once a year—every year, no matter how he was feeling—Wheeljack always made sure to visit.
Some years, there would be many visits. Other years, this would be the only one—and Primus, how the guilt would always eat him up.
He knew they wouldn’t hold it against him.
But there was a lot he held against himself.
A million years, and he’d been told time and time again it wasn’t his fault. He crashed because he had protected them, that was the only reason why he wasn’t there to help again. He couldn’t have known what was going to happen.
Wheeljack knew it made sense.
That didn’t make his spark understand.
“… Hey, kids. Hey, Doc-‘Bot,” he greeted quietly. “Magnus and Armi’ll be around in a minute. Very conveniently, they both got calls at the same time and had to take ‘em.” He snorted. “They never were subtle, were they? They mean well… I just wish they wouldn’t do that. They miss you, too—and them always treatin’ me like I’m the fragile one around this day, it doesn’t make things any easier.” He chuckled. “Guess this means we need a ‘jam session’, don’t we? Probably overdue.”
It was quiet.
The leaves on the trees rustled.
And Wheeljack sighed, sitting back and rubbing his arm. It was never the same, after that day.
“… I, uh… I still don’t know if I’ve done any of it right,” he confessed. “I thought I’d gotten it all together, then… it happened… and I can’t help but think Armi, Magnus, and everyone else have paid the price, because there was a good while… and it still happens now, from time to time… where it’s hard to remember everythin’ you taught me. I’ve lost kids before, and you saw what I became. I worry that our family still sees that guy, the one who was too scared to try again and be different.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t want that. And you wouldn’t like the fact that, even now, if I could go back and do it over again—find a way to trade my life for yours—I would, without question.”
The images of the fallen, etched into the tombs, gazed on with optics of blue crystalline Energon.
“… I miss you every day,” he said. “I’ll never stop missin’ you, wondering about the ‘what if’s… and just wishin’ that I could see you again, so that I could tell you that I love ya, and I’m sorry, and… thank you.” He took a sharp vent. “But you know.”
“Wheeljack?” There was Magnus, sitting down beside him with a large servo already resting on his shoulder—and there was Strongarm, sitting down at his other side. “Hey. Are you alright?”
Wheeljack sighed. “Okay… Maybe you were right about me needin’ to talk to ‘em. Again.” He looked between the two of them. “The fake comms were a bit much, though. Bee would be proud.” The two blinked, then they smiled sadly. “… I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Strongarm insisted. “‘Jackie, you lost-… You lost more than anyone ever should.” She leaned against him. “It’s alright if you still struggle, if you always struggle. You just have to know we’re here, and that you’re not alone.”
“I’m not the only one who lost ‘em,” Wheeljack reminded her. “You, Magnus, entire worlds-”
“Your family is your world, Wheeljack—it always has been,” Ultra Magnus said quietly. “And… we learned that from you.” The commander looked up at the tombs. “… But they’re not gone. It’s just gotten harder to see them. They’re still here.” He looked at his conjunx, smiling. “Watching over us, the family and friends that they made… and more often than not, they’re rolling their optics.”
Strongarm snorted, and Wheeljack chuckled. “Oh, yeah. I can only imagine the commentary.”
“… I think that they’d be proud of us,” Strongarm decided, sitting back on the bench and nodding to herself. “But poor Optimus probably cringed every time I fumbled with the axe during training. I’ve seen the archival footage, how’d he always make the spins look so flawless?”
“Y’know, I never asked about that,” Wheeljack realized. “Here, everyone was always makin’ comments about me spinnin’ swords—and the little fragger got away with that!”
Ultra Magnus shook his head. “Wheeljack, unless it was directly dangerous to their health, you have always let your children get away with everything. Strongarm could actually murder someone, and you would not even blink—just grab a shovel.”
“Your unwavering support is something I’ll always treasure, ‘Jackie,” the young cadet teased.
Wheeljack snorted. “Like you haven’t done your research on optimal disposal methods, Mags.”
“Off-topic,” the commander said bluntly, earning a wide-opticed look from his daughter.
Strongarm shook her head and looked back at the tombs, and she sighed. “… I worry sometimes that I’m forgetting them. I’m scared to forget, because they’re gone forever if I do. We won’t-…”
“Yeah.” Wheeljack nodded. “We talked about it, but never came to any resolution—just made our jokes about breakin’ into each other’s Wells or draggin’ each other into the afterlife.”
“So morbid,” Strongarm remarked.
Wheeljack shrugged. “Stubborn.” His arm burned again, and he rubbed it. “The Allspark here ain’t a fan of us, though. I’m afraid it is what it is.”
“… Do you think they remember me?” Strongarm asked quietly.
Wheeljack looked at her and smiled. “Who could forget you?”
“Hm.” Strongarm smiled back, then she looked up at the tombs again. “… I miss them. Even if I can’t remember them too well, I’m sure that I remember their love. And I miss them.”
“They miss you, too,” Ultra Magnus assured her.
Strongarm sighed. “I wish that we knew that the end would be happy, that we’d get to be together again. It doesn’t seem fair to split us up.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Wheeljack agreed. “And it’s not. But it’s not like we can build a bridge.”
“… Why not?” Strongarm asked. “You did once.”
“Twice,” Ultra Magnus corrected her. “But that was here, Strongarm—not the Allspark.”
“So? I thought Wreckers were stubborn.”
Wheeljack just kept gazing at the tombs as his conjunx and daughter continued to speak.
And as his arm burned, his optic-brow raised.
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apod · 10 months
Video
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2023 June 17
Planet Earth at Night II Video Credit: NASA, Gateway to Astronaut Photography, ISS Expedition 53; Music: The Low Seas (The 126ers)
Explanation: Recorded during 2017, timelapse sequences from the International Space Station are compiled in this serene video of planet Earth at Night. Fans of low Earth orbit can start by enjoying the view as green and red aurora borealis slather up the sky. The night scene tracks from northwest to southeast across North America, toward the Gulf of Mexico and the Florida coast. A second sequence follows European city lights, crosses the Mediterranean Sea, and passes over a bright Nile river in northern Africa. Seen from the orbital outpost, erratic flashes of lightning appear in thunder storms below and stars rise above the planet's curved horizon through a faint atmospheric airglow. Of course, from home you can always check out the vital signs of Planet Earth Now.
∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap230617.html
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vivid-ink · 6 months
Text
'The Love Shack'
Part III - Blurring Lines
Tumblr media
Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)
Part III Summary:
You've spent weeks now, meeting with Neteyam & Lo'ak at the old outpost to play... You enjoy them both, but your feelings for Neteyam are becoming harder to ignore. And unbeknownst to you, Neteyam is finding it difficult to share you too... He wants you all to himself, away from his brother and away from other prying eyes...
Read Part I - The Proposition HERE
Read Part II - Three is a Perfect Crowd HERE
Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI
Word count: 12.9k
Content: Mentions of group sex, MMF threesome, smut, sex toy play, squirting, anal fingering
Author's Note:
Greetings my lovely thirsty peeps! Here is Part III. The narrative is getting more emotional/angsty now too with all those secretly repressed feelings. But I hope ya'll still brought your 'thirst-gear' along because you'll need it towards the end of this part. Enjoy, my lovelies! 😘
Taglist: @teymars @eyweveng @leaveitbythewave @luvteyams @akiras-key @bajbr @qcswrites @reggiesslut @neteluvr @savvysscandles @dasaniix @emery-333 @vintaqestar @live-laugh-neteyam @itssomeonereading @strawberry-vamp0 @clairevoyancee @delacruzyari @bluecooki3 @aalex561-blog @frustrated-kitten @innercreationflower @wolf12thsworld @wheneclipsefalls @iameatingmyhair  @ele-sme @investedreader @oasiswithmyg @daeneeryss @pandorxxx @anonka01 @hunbomb @pandoraslxna @adrianarose7 @sunghoonmyluv @notnat02 @getthisoverwith33 @simp4myself @spicymayyo @animehoe1-800 @daddysmurfslefttoenail @iman-lu @creepytoes88 @flyingspacewhale @neteyamswifesworld @lostress101 @nilsavatar @cloudyw1ndzz @itsjazzsworld @solemnlover @asweetblueberry2 @blue-slxt @slutforderekhale @swaggygurlbae @c-h-i-l @justonesadlonelymoth @itchaboi-itchyboy @ntymavtr
Note: A reminder that I don't use the term 'Y/N' so the reader's name in this is 'Neyomi'. The name is not used often, only when stylistically required.
***~~~***
You were doing a commendable job of maintaining the status quo during the daytimes, Neteyam had to admit. Calm and collected, your face ever inscrutable, nothing in your behaviour betrayed any trace of the clandestine contract you’d entered into with him and Lo’ak. 
For many weeks now you’d stolen away once a week to the old outpost for your private ménage à trois with him and his brother, where you would very successfully abandon all your inhibitions and fall prey to their various ministrations. You would tangle with them both, giving and receiving pleasure until you were limp and mewling like a milk-gorged kitten. But come daybreak, when you fell in with the rest of the warriors for the morning briefing, there was no hint of the carnal nights you shared with them, not even the barest acknowledgement.
Unlike the other women, there were no demure glances or hushed giggles from you. You were purely professional.
You were so good at it that the morning after the very first night, when Neteyam had received nothing more from you than the usual dip of your head and a steady ‘good morning sir’, he’d believed for several surreal moments that he’d dreamt up the nirvana of the previous night. That is, until Lo’ak had looked from you to him and flashed him a wayward smirk that spoke of his own amusement at your cool behaviour.
Lo’ak had made it his life’s mission then to try to goad a reaction from you in public. However, you remained stoic, even pulling rank on him several times to make him behave during hunts and patrols. Then you’d threatened him on your second visit to the outpost with a firm warning that if he couldn’t keep what happened in the outpost at the outpost, that you’d end the arrangement and never return.
That had nipped Lo’ak’s jibing in the bud immediately. Your behaviour had remained a fascinating contradiction ever since. Aloof during the days, but a wanton little plaything during your nights with them…
To anyone else, you were just as you always were. Hell, Neteyam didn’t even know if you’d told your best friend, Tula… Tula certainly didn’t appear to know, based on the fact that she often told him and Lo’ak during group visits that she was still trying to convince you to come along. There had not been a single crack in your façade.
Until today.
It had been almost imperceptible, but Neteyam had caught it straight away: The clench of your jaw and the tight swallow that bobbed down your slender throat in reaction to the other woman’s words. You turned away, busying yourself with your own pa’li.
“What do you say, warrior? Tonight?” Silwey’s coquettish voice crooned beside him. Her warm palm smoothed in a slow slide up his arm to squeeze at his bicep while she pressed her side provocatively up against him.
Neteyam chuckled, undoing the ties and buckles of his pa’li’s saddle. It was a very bold move by a woman to be making such an uninhibited suggestion in such a communal setting as the pa’li pen, especially to the future olo’eyktan, but he had history with Silwey.
“It’s been a long day,” Neteyam muttered indecisively with a cock of his head, “Aren’t you tired?”
Silwey scoffed and bumped her hip against his, “Not too tired. Besides, we know stamina isn’t an issue for you.”
Though your back was turned to them as you attended to your own direhorse, Neteyam could hear your fingers working with the buckles of your own saddle. It wasn’t the usual slow and composed clink and slide of fabric against metal. It sounded like your fingers were fumbling testily with the material, the buckles rattling noisily.
A corner of his lips quirked upward. You were not so unbothered after all, it seemed…
Neteyam enjoyed the group liaisons at the old outpost, but it was true what the whispers said. He mostly liked to watch and maybe join in with his hands, lips and tongue, but it wasn’t often that he had sex with someone. He was selective like that and he didn’t like to share his playmates. He left the playboy behaviour to Lo’ak, who was more than happy to indulge the women in full use of his body.
There were only a few exceptions for Neteyam, over whom he tended to be fairly possessive. Silwey was one of them, as were you…
When Neteyam’s lack of response dragged on for several seconds longer than she liked, Silwey stroked a brazen hand over his chest and her voice turned husky to cajole him, “Come on, Neteyam. It was fun last time when it was just you and me, away from any audience.”
A muffled curse and a dull thud sounded as you dropped something.
Out of the corner of his eye, Neteyam saw you quickly stoop to pick up what you’d dropped before you shot upright again, proceeding to stride away in the next moment. You appeared very eager to get away before you had to endure any more of his exchange with Silwey.
Turning his full attention to the waiting female at his side, Neteyam regarded Silwey with apologetic eyes, “Can we take a raincheck on this? I’m quite sore after today’s patrol.”
Disappointment coloured Silwey’s expression and she pouted slightly, “Alright. Well you know where to find me if you change your mind.” She shot him a seductive wink and turned to leave with a deliberate sashay of her hips.
Silwey was an incredibly beautiful woman. A warrior too, her physique was lithe with toned muscle and shapely in all the right places. Her face was similarly pleasing. However, there was an air of conceitedness about her and she liked to be in control in matters of sensual play. Neteyam had found her sexual confidence extremely appealing at first, and he’d enjoyed grappling for dominance with her during their liaisons, but his encounters with her lacked a certain sincerity of connection.
Especially after their one private evening together away from the outpost, it was becoming clear to Neteyam that what Silwey appeared to enjoy most about being with him was being in control of him. She relished dominating him. She wasn’t fond of that role being reversed though and so she never submitted fully to him at any point in return.
She certainly didn’t surrender or abandon herself as wholly as you did when you were with him… And the complete and utter vulnerability you displayed was what really made Neteyam’s blood heat with lust.
Neteyam watched your retreating figure in the distance. He noted the darker cobalt of the stripes that lined your thighs and remembered the smooth feel of them beneath his lips. He watched as the long strides of your legs made your hips sway, accentuating the luscious curves of your pert bottom as you walked. He couldn’t see your face now, but his brain supplied a lusty memory of your beautiful face contorted in bliss, lips parted and mouth slack as you moaned beneath him.
He wasn’t keen on a private evening away with Silwey, but you… You were a different story. His mind yearned and his body ached to get you alone. You, he wouldn’t mind sequestering away somewhere all to himself without having to share you with anyone.
“I know that look.” Lo’ak sauntered up to him, adjusting his bow which he’d slung across his torso. “It’s the look of someone who’s been offered a sweet treat, but not of the flavour they’re craving.”
Walking to return his pa’li’s saddle to the storage rack, Neteyam cast his brother a wry grin over his shoulder, “Yeah well, some of us have a more sophisticated palate, bro.”
“I believe the simple term you’re looking for is ‘fussy’.” Lo’ak countered, giving the whickering direhorse an affectionate stroke of farewell down its muzzle before jogging to catch up with Neteyam.
A group of young fisherwomen passed them, twittering with bashful hands over their mouths. Lo’ak addressed them with a wink and blew them a kiss. He crowed at his older brother, “And the good thing about not being fussy is that you always eat well.”
Chortling at his brother’s flirtatious conduct, Neteyam rolled his eyes, “And the bad thing about people who aren’t fussy is that they’re often also greedy.”
“Ahh, I see. You want me to be a bit less involved next time Neyomi comes round, do you? I’ll just warm her up for you, eh?” Lo’ak waggled his eyebrows and jabbed his elbow several times into his brother’s ribs, “Then I’ll just kick back and watch, because by Eywa, she’s so beautiful when she comes undone.”
Neteyam couldn’t suppress the grunt of displeasure that left him at his brother’s words. He didn’t even want Lo’ak looking at you, if he was honest… He wanted you all to himself. He wanted your kisses to grace his lips only. He wanted the forbidden taste of your sweet flesh tantalising his tongue and no one else’s, and he wanted the sight of your writhing body for his eyes and his eyes alone.
“How about you just sit out entirely?” Neteyam spat with a jeer, though there was a jesting undertone to his voice.
Lo’ak hooted with laughter and blew a low whistle out on his next exhale. He clucked his tongue and shook his head, “Nope, no can do, bro. I’m going to change the name of the outpost from ‘The Love Shack’ to ‘The Sharing Shack’. Sharing is caring and those who won’t share aren’t welcome.”
The brothers were closing in on their family’s shelter now and they were careful to lower their voices. The last thing they needed was for their father or, Eywa forbid, their mother to discover their libidinous evening activities. Although, people loved to chin-wag and it seemed unlikely that their father hadn’t at least heard rumours. Perhaps their father was just closing a blind eye to things…
“Just because I don’t like to share, doesn’t mean I won’t. I know she enjoys playing with you too.” Neteyam muttered peevishly, narrowing his eyes and fixing Lo’ak with a pointed look.
Lo’ak smirked at his brother through keen amber eyes, “You just want a little bit on the side for yourself. You’ve got it bad for her.” At Neteyam’s scowl, Lo’ak snickered and aimed another playful sock at him, “It’s alright, I got you, bro.”
***~~~***
A droning hum of voices infused the atmosphere around you while the gathered clan members filled their bellies and socialised over a shared evening meal. The radiant heat of the communal bonfire was usually a welcome sensation against your skin as it provided a soothing contrast to the chill of the evening air. However, the warmth of the fire prickled irritatingly against you tonight.
You were in a cantankerous mood and you struggled to get comfortable, either feeling too hot closer to the fire or too cold if you moved farther away from it. Your sour disposition had put a damper on your appetite too, and you picked grouchily at the mixture of grains, roasted vegetables and morsels of sturmbeest meat on your food mat in front of you.
It was your arrow that had felled the fat sturmbeest cow for tonight’s meal. Ordinarily you’d be beaming with pride, but tonight you just wanted to sulk. It was immature and petty of you - plus you knew you also had no real right - but you wanted to wallow in your crankiness.
And it was all thanks to Silwey.
You’d never had anything against the other young woman. In fact, she was a well-respected hunter and you’d partnered with her very successfully on several occasions. She was confident, skilled and friendly enough. There was literally no reason for you to hold any animosity towards Silwey and the only reason you felt this way now was because you’d overheard her proposition to Neteyam.
He’s not yours… Your conscience warned. The arrangement you have with him and Lo’ak is purely physical…
But the knowledge that Silwey had been with Neteyam privately on her own was a thorn in your side, and you felt viscid, green envy roil in the pit of your stomach. You knew Neteyam was selective of the women he took fully as lovers. The gossiping murmurs amongst the other women about this fact was evidence of this, and Neteyam had even told you so himself. So, he must have taken a keen enough liking to Silwey to have sought her out on her own in the past. 
You felt your already black mood turn even blacker.
Tula nudged your side with an elbow, forcing you from your critical thoughts, “Your face looks like a thunder cloud. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, sister.” You fibbed, refusing to meet her eyes.
This was another undesired consequence of your secret arrangement with the two Sully brothers. You and Tula had been joined at the hip since childhood and you never kept secrets from each other, but now you did. Part of it was your stubborn pride at not wanting to admit to your best friend that you had caved in the end and succumbed to the brothers’ charms. Another part was you selfishly wanting to keep your exclusive arrangement with Neteyam and Lo’ak under wraps.
No one else had their own dedicated evening alone with the brothers. All the other women participated in the weekly group sessions with whoever else that went along. And for the last several weeks you’d felt privileged, special even, especially knowing that Neteyam didn’t just fuck any and every woman that came across his path. But your newfound discovery about his solo tryst with Silwey was upsetting.
“I know you’re lying.” Tula pressed, uncrossing her legs where she was seated to shuffle in front of you, “I know you like the back of my own hand and you can’t fool me.”
Chewing on your bottom lip while a furrow pulled a deep knit between your brows, you groused, “Wasn’t trying to fool you, but it doesn’t mean I want to talk about it either.”
A sigh huffed out of Tula and she took your fidgeting hands in hers, “Ok, but it’s nothing bad, right? Like, it’s not serious? You know you can tell me anything. I won’t judge you.”
The concern in your friend’s voice was touching and your ears pricked upward, your eyes following suit to look at Tula. With a discomfited laugh you shook your head, “No, it’s not anything serious. It really is nothing, actually. It’s dumb and you don’t need to worry.”
Tula tried one last time, “If it’s dumb then you can definitely tell me.”
“No, I don’t want to talk about it.” Your words were firm and your tone unyielding.
Sensing that you wouldn’t budge, Tula relented, “Alright. Well if you’re not going to eat anymore of that food then we might as well make a move. Come back to mine and I’ll rub your shoulders and re-braid your hair? You look like some tender loving care might lift your mood.”
Rolling your shoulders and testing the sore muscles, you knew that one of Tula’s wonderful massages would help, but your pride obstinately insisted on licking its petty wounds and so you declined. “Thanks, but I’m tired and I’m just going to wash and call it a night.”
Shooting you a dubious expression, Tula gave a weary sigh and leant forward to buss your cheek with a kiss, “Ok, goodnight sister, sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Your murmured your own farewell and watched as your friend left the gathered throng of people. Deciding it best for you to get going too, you looked at the bits and bobs of your remaining dinner. Not wanting to feel like an ingrate for wasting good food, you gathered what was left and ate it all. Gingerly rolling the food mat up, you got up and tucked it into the washing basket with a brief smile of thanks at the people who were on cleaning duty tonight.
You passed a cluster of warrior women on your way out and they called out their ‘goodnights’ to you. You noted that Silwey wasn’t among them and your brain unhelpfully supplied the bitter thought that she was likely off frolicking with Neteyam.
Your shoulders ached and you rolled them again with a grimace as you slowly ambled your way back towards the clan’s assemblage of home shelters that were scattered among the upper boughs and branches of the large woodland trees. The air was chilly and only the soft chirruping of nightlife accompanied you as you walked onward. Your plan was to head to the bathing springs, wash the grime of the day away, and then settle down to sleep with the hope that your mind wouldn’t keep you awake with agonising musings of what Neteyam and Silwey were doing.
Your ears twitched then, swivelling backward at the dull sound of thudding footsteps approaching you from behind.
“Sore, are you?” Lo’ak queried, stopping to stand at your side. He grinned when you turned to acknowledge him, the whites of his teeth glinting in the dim moonlight.
“That talioang cow was a heavy haul to bring in, so yes, my shoulder and back muscles are making their complaints known.” You didn’t need to look around him or over his shoulder to see that his older brother was not with him.
“It was a good kill. The clan thanks you for your service.” Lo’ak cocked his head to the side, regarding you with his signature smirk, “Can I help make you feel better? I’m happy to give you a nice rub down. You know, ease all that tension from your body.”
You barked out a laugh and threw him a cynical look, “Why do I get the sense that your rub down will end up more like a hump down?”
Lo’ak’s grin turned naughty and he snickered, “Hey, if that’s what you want, sweet thing, I won’t say no.”
You contemplated his offer, really thought about it. He was still wearing his cummerbund around his torso and you took a moment to enjoy the way it hugged his abdomen like a second skin, framing his ribs and accentuating the narrowing of his hips nicely. Your eyes dipped to the dark green loincloth that hung from his hips and a part of you was tempted. You knew, intimately, what hid behind that loincloth and you knew that the experience would be pleasurable if you spent the evening with Lo’ak. But when you closed your eyes and pictured yourself kissing him, it was Neteyam’s face that swam behind your eyelids.
With a quiet exhale you shook your head, “Thanks, but no thanks. I turned down Tula’s offer of a shoulder rub just now too.”
Lo’ak’s tail was swishing in a slow arc behind him and he was watching you intently. A toothy smile played across his lips and you sensed a cheeky jab on the horizon, “It’s OK, I get it. Wrong brother asking.”
Irritation flashed through you at his comment. You were really starting to hate the way he kept calling you out like that. It was difficult enough having to confront your own feelings, but it was much worse when someone else pointed them out.
You snapped at Lo’ak, “You need to stop that. If you will recall, I quite happily enjoy both of you during our get-togethers, so it wouldn’t make a difference who asks. I just want to bathe and head home tonight.”
Great Mother, you were turning into a such a liar… you would have accepted without hesitation if the offer had come from Neteyam…
“Alright, alright, I’m just teasing. I’ve genuinely got a suggestion that might help though.”
You raised a doubtful brow at him, your silence urging him to continue.
“There’s a small hot spring near my family’s home shelter. It’s in a secluded area behind it, away from the main village pathway.” Lo’ak broached genially, “The water’s warm and it’s great for soothing sore muscles. You’re welcome to bathe there if you want?”
“You have a private hot spring?” You queried in astonishment. There were a few hot springs in the nearby woodlands, but they were communal and there were often other people there. Having a private one so close to home was a real indulgence.
“Perks of being in the olo’eyktan’s family.” Lo’ak gave a casual shrug of his shoulders, “My parents picked that spot to build our family’s shelter at because of it.”
A hot soak and bath sounded absolutely divine, and a private spring meant you’d have some peace and quiet to yourself too. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be using it if it’s just meant for your family.”
“Nah, it’s fine. We’ve had friends over before and my parents are out tonight anyway. Come on, I’ll take you there.”
Enticed by the promise of the hot spring, you readily followed Lo’ak. You were familiar with where the Sullys’ home was, but as he led you round behind it, you glimpsed a mossy pathway that led down between the verdant flora towards a formation of rocks. Sure enough, you could see there was a pool in the formation’s centre, partially obscured by the taller rocks surrounding it.
The environment became humid as you approached the mouth of the spring, the hot water sending small plumes of steam into the air. You breathed out a sigh of wonderment at the sight before you. It was actually bigger than you’d initially thought.
The hot spring was surrounded on most sides by the high rocks, giving the space a lovely sense of seclusion. There was another set of tall boulders that parted the spring down the middle too and, though you couldn’t see it from where you were, you presumed it would lead to another part of the spring round the corner. On the adjacent side from where you stood, there was a bank with a bed of plush, bioluminescent moss. It looked like the perfect place to just sit and dip your feet in if that’s all one wanted to do.
You beamed at Lo’ak appreciatively, “This is lovely, thank you.”
“There are some bath and cleansing oils in a little basket over there on the bank. My sisters are morning bathers so they won’t be needing the spring now. You can enjoy your privacy.” Lo’ak stated with a smile, followed by a muted titter which he tried to disguise rather poorly as a cough.
“What? Why are you laughing?”
He waved you off, turning around and beginning to make his way back up the path, “No, it’s nothing.”
Arms akimbo as you watched him leave, you hissed, “You’re being weird. There better not be any nasty surprises in there!”
Lo’ak scoffed, stopping in his tracks to look at you, “No, of course not.” Although there was still that telltale mischievous twinkle in his eyes that you didn’t altogether trust. He shook his head at your apparent doubt and he gestured towards the steaming spring, “You’re safe here, don’t worry. There are no strangers here.”
With a reassuring smile, Lo’ak left you to it and carried on up the distance of the path until you saw him disappear into his family’s shelter.
Left alone now, you peered out into the darkness of the hot spring before you. The higher temperature of the water meant that not much lived in and around the spring. There were no fish or florae that dwelled beneath the water’s surface and apart from the gentle glow of the moss and phosphorescent lianas that lined the rocks, there wasn’t much light at all.
Stepping forward slowly, you let the warm water of the spring greet your toes, which wriggled and curled in delight at the soothing heat. You smiled a small smile to yourself, very much looking forward to your impending hot bath. You unclothed yourself, shimmying out of your chest-covering and loincloth before folding the garments neatly and stepping to the side to drape them over a boulder. You paused then when you noticed another folded loincloth tucked against the rocks.
Odd… Lo’ak had reassured you that no one was here…
Shrugging lightly, you supposed another of the family had left it behind earlier in the day and thought nothing more of it, eager to immerse yourself in the steaming spring that beckoned. With small steps, you submerged yourself little by little, sighing as the blissful warmth of the spring water enveloped your knees, thighs, hips and navel until you reached maximum depth and it pooled just under the rounds of your breasts.
Oh, by Eywa, the temperature was perfect. The water was hot but not too hot as to be uncomfortable and you could already feel it easing the tightness in your leg muscles. Wading through the dark water towards the basket of bath oils on the bank, you gingerly picked through several vessels, uncapping them and giving each one a sniff as you tried to decide which you liked best. They all smelled wonderful, some fruity, some floral and all a luxurious treat for the skin and senses.
A very familiar scent wafted to your nose when you uncapped the last vessel; spicy and nutty, with a hint of the woodland trees. You recognised it immediately. Neteyam. This was the bath oil he used regularly. Your mind was made up in that instant, selection made.
Bending your knees, you submerged yourself to your chin to wet your body all over, before gracefully lifting yourself out of the water to perch on the mossy bank so you could rub the oil into your skin. The oil was wonderfully fragrant and glossy on your wet skin as you massaged it over your arms, torso, breasts, tail and legs. A contented moan bubbled up your throat and you giggled to yourself, smoothing the oil up your neck and then over your face too.
Oh, it smelled so good and it reminded you so much of Neteyam…
Something sharp pricked in your chest when your conscience reminded you that he was off in the company of Silwey tonight, and you sniffed sullenly before you mentally chastised yourself. You resolved to put it out of your mind and just be grateful for this wonderful hot spring. The scent of the oil tickled your nostrils again, bringing with it more unbidden thoughts of Neteyam. Perhaps choosing the oil he used wasn’t the smartest idea after all... You’d go to bed smelling like him tonight and it was just going to keep reminding you of him.
Satisfied with your efforts of smoothing the bath oil all over yourself, you slipped off the mossy bank back into the warm water to soak. Your tightly braided cornrows wouldn’t need a proper wash for another few days yet, so you cupped water in your hands and dribbled it over your head to give your hair a simple rinse. Gingerly, you washed your face in a similar fashion, moaning quietly in enjoyment.
So absorbed were you in relishing your bath that you failed to notice the glowing pair of eyes watching you soundlessly through the steam from around the corner of tall boulders in the spring.
Your voyeur smirked to himself. He was surprised to find you here. He was going to have to thank his brother later…
Deciding he’d done enough covert watching, Neteyam carefully shifted off his rocky perch beneath the water to submerge himself further. His moral scruples censured him that continuing to watch you bathe naked when you were unaware of his presence was wrong. He resolved to make himself known, but he was going to have some fun doing it.
The buoyancy in the water made it easy for you to rest with your knees bent to keep yourself submerged to your chin. You continued to run your hands over yourself underwater, cleaning yourself while you soaked. You hummed an old folk tune that your mother used to sing to you as a child, and you closed your eyes, basking in the peace of your surroundings. But your serenity was unexpectedly disrupted when you felt something ripple past your legs underwater.
You stilled and bolted upright to full height. There was something in the water…
Your thoughts rushed back to earlier when you’d been suspicious of Lo’ak’s snickering. He’d reassured you that there was no danger here and you knew, logically, that nothing lived in the waters of a hot spring, and yet, something had definitely moved past the backs of your legs underwater.
Heart beginning to race in your chest, you turned in a slow arc, scanning the murky water with wide eyes. The water was so black you could hardly see your own body past your hips. The steam was suddenly stifling and you licked your lips, swallowing down your rising anxiety.
With an almighty splash, something burst upward through the surface of the water behind you with a roar and an alarmed screech forced itself from your throat. You whirled around to face a looming figure, your chest heaving in fright. However, the loud roar the figure had emitted had morphed now into deep rumbles of laughter and you came face-to-face with a dripping wet Neteyam.
“You skxawng!” You shrieked in indignation, aiming several good splashes of water at him with your hands.
Neteyam’s mirth still had a firm grip over him and his rumbling laughter continued to reverberate around the rocky spring. Your fit of pique was quickly deflating in the face of his amusement as you watched him clutch at his sides, gasping for breath, his handsome face full of his merriment. The sound of his laughter was infectious and though you continued to cuss at him, your own voice was tremulous with your own laughter now.
“Great Mother, all these years we’ve hunted and patrolled together, facing packs of nantang (viperwolves) and palulukan (thanators) and not once have you ever screamed like that!” Neteyam hooted.
“Shut up, kurkung (asshole)! You gave me a huge scare!” You splashed him again and added a hard shove against his chest for good measure.
Neteyam caught your wrists and proceeded to mock scold you, “Hey, name-calling and physically assaulting your superior officer is the height of disrespect and insubordination.”
Wrenching your wrists free of his grasp, you ground out through your teeth, “Forgive me, sir, but you rudely interrupted my bath and nearly sent my soul to Eywa with your ambush.”
Flushed from your fright and suddenly feeling self-conscious, you folded your arms across your breasts. It was stupid really considering Neteyam had already seen all of you and more before.
Your eyes had accustomed themselves to the darkness now and you could see little rivulets of water cascading down his face from his wet hair. Droplets of water clung to the skin of his neck and chest, and his bioluminescent tanhì glimmered against his moist skin. The deep gold of his eyes were bright in lack of light and you forced yourself to look away, afraid you might drown in the mesmerising depths of them if you looked for too long.
Neteyam gave a quiet chuckle and he tilted his head downward to catch your downcast eyes, “Did I interrupt your bath or did you interrupt mine?”
You sucked in an astonished breath, remembering the other folded loincloth you’d seen on the rocks by the mouth of the hot spring. Confusion swirled in your mind and you shook your head, “Lo’ak told me there was no one here.”
Another rough chuckle, “No, he said there were no strangers here.”
Neteyam watched as you attempted to make sense of the situation. He’d already been in the hot spring when Lo’ak had led you here. He’d been partially hidden from your sight around the corner of the boulders in the middle of the pool, and you’d been too preoccupied to notice him through the steam.
“Maybe Lo’ak didn’t realise you were here.”
“Oh paskalin (sweet berry), he definitely knew I was here.”
Neteyam’s voice was low and husky, and the raspy sound rippled over you, sending warm tingles throughout you to your fingers, toes and other more private places. You looked to his face again and found him still watching you. A small grin played on his lips, his eyes gleamed with mischief and his ears were upright, fully focused on you.
The recollection of Silwey’s proposition to him earlier in the day resurfaced in your thoughts and you felt your mood sour again. He was probably freshening up before his play date…
You decided to leave him to it, trying your best to keep the sour taste in your mouth from bleeding into your tone, “Well, I’m sorry sir, for intruding on your bath. I’ll go now so you can finish up. I’m sure you’ve got somewhere to be, you know, someone waiting for you.”
Neteyam watched as you turned to leave, wading slowly through the spring towards its exit. He shook his head at your repeated address of him as ‘sir’ and he chortled under his breath. Your words were coolly said, but he didn’t miss the slight edge to them, especially when you referred to someone waiting for him. You were annoyed and he was fairly certain of the reason why. He knew you’d overheard part of his conversation with Silwey earlier today. Well, two could play this game of rank…
“Wait, tsamsiyu (warrior).”
You stopped in your tracks at the formal address. Neteyam’s tone was suddenly firm, the same one he used during your work days and instinct made you turn to face him again, “Sir?”
He began to advance towards you, his movement creating ripples in the spring’s surface at his approach. He stopped once there was a scant foot of space between you and his greater height forced your head to tilt back to maintain your eye contact with him.
“Just where do you think I’m meant to be right now at this hour? And who are you implying is waiting for me?” His question was a murmur, but his tone was still formal and there was a note of challenge in it.
Swallowing the growing lump in your throat, you replied, “I just meant that you’re a busy man and I shouldn’t hold you up.”
“Bullshit. Speak plainly.”
You were bewildered by Neteyam’s brusque response. Your eyes fell away from his and you shrank a little under the weight of his authority. He was pulling rank on you and questioning you. Perhaps your earlier remark hadn’t been as measured as you thought and your attitude had bled through. Unnerved, you wondered if you’d offended him.
Fortifying yourself through your increasing discomfort, you inhaled deeply and spoke, “What you choose to do in your time, and who you spend it with, is none of my concern. I apologise if I overstepped and misspoke. Permission to be dismissed, sir?”
“No.”
Shock lanced through you and you gasped. You’d expected your polite request for dismissal to be granted, but Neteyam had denied it outright. Unsure how to respond, your eyes mechanically found his face again and another wave of surprise rippled through you when you found him smirking at you.
Soft lines wrinkled your forehead as you frowned at him in puzzlement. When his smirk turned into a full-blown grin, you clicked and you realised he was toying with you. Your ears flattened in irritation and your lips pressed into a thin line. You adjusted your arms, crossing them even tighter across your naked chest, “You’re making fun of me.”
Neteyam’s expression softened and turned placating. He cocked his head at you, “You started this rank game. I was just playing along.”
You weren’t in the mood to banter with him right now. You just wanted to get out of there because every moment more that you spent in Neteyam’s presence was a reminder that he would soon be trotting off into Silwey’s arms for the night. Something he was entirely in his right to do… your conscience reminded again. It did nothing to soothe your bother.
“Right, well I’m going now.” You huffed, turning to continue making your departure.
“You don’t have to go. Stay.”
“No, I interrupted your bath. So, I’ll go.” You snapped.
“I was almost done. You only just got here. Really, you should stay. I’d best be off anyway-”
“Actually yes, why don’t you go?” You interrupted him, whirling around to face him. Your abrupt movement sent a torrent of warm water splashing onto the hot spring’s entryway behind you. He’d best be off indeed! It wouldn’t be polite to keep his playmate waiting… He would leave and you could stay to soak in the spring, and wallow some more in your stupid self-pity...
Your irritation flared and your next words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, “Better not keep Silwey waiting.”
A smug grin and chuckle was Neteyam’s answer to your remark and his response only aggravated you further.
There was an accompanying pinprick of hurt in your chest this time. Great Mother, was he still toying with you?... Was he rubbing it in that he was seeing someone exclusively tonight?... But why would he do that? You’d never known Neteyam to be unkind… And he didn’t even know how you felt… Or did he?
“You’re adorable when you’re upset.” Neteyam said, approaching you and closing the distance between the both of you once more.
“I’m not upset.” You feigned and you turned defiant eyes up at him when he stopped in front of you.
The water was shallower here near mouth of the hot spring. Where it had pooled beneath your breasts earlier, it now encircled your torso level with the tops of your hips. As Neteyam was taller, the waterline sat dangerously low on his pelvis and you kept your gaze firmly rooted on his face to curb the temptation to look down.
“Lying to your commanding officer is also a form of insubordination.”
By Eywa, you were tiring of this game... Why wouldn’t he just leave to go and meet Silwey already?
A scathing snort left you and you turned to continue your departure, “You’re not the boss of me outside of our work hours.”
Neteyam stopped you with a hand around your upper arm, “No, but I do like it when you call me ‘sir’. It has a certain ring to it that I’ve discovered I enjoy even outside our work hours.” His grip wasn’t loose but it wasn’t bruising either, just firm enough to impede your attempt to leave.
Still unwilling to uncross your arms from around your chest, you snarled at him in warning, “Let me go. I’m sure Silwey would be more than happy to indulge you in your little game. You are her commanding officer too, after all.”
“I’m not meeting Silwey tonight.”
A beat of silence passed as you took in Neteyam’s words, “What?”
Strong arms enveloped you in the next moment and you found yourself being dragged backwards into the deeper water of the hot spring. Wrapped in his embrace with your back crushed to his chest, Neteyam murmured by your ear, “I turned down her offer.”
You squirmed a little in the cage of his hold. One of his arms was wrapped around your shoulders while the other was snaked around your waist; you were well and truly trapped against him. You knew you were no match for his strength and the feminine part of you appreciated that fact. It revelled in how dainty you felt against his bigger frame.
You were unable to stem your curiosity and you questioned his decision, snapping at him, “Why? You obviously like her enough to have met her privately in the past.”
Neteyam took a breath and then exhaled, “The sex is good, but there’s no connection there. It’s physical and nothing else. Besides, it’s not Silwey’s company I find myself craving these days.” He gave a gravelly chuckle and you felt it rumble against your back. His voice turned teasing, “I knew you were eavesdropping, paskalin.”
It was an awkward angle but you craned your neck sideways to scowl at him, “Well, she wasn’t exactly quiet about it. She might as well have made an announcement before the entire clan.”
“And her offer upset you.”
Another fibbing refute was on the tip of your tongue when you stopped yourself. He’d already called you out before for being untruthful. He knew you were upset. No point trying to lie your way out of it.
Ever since you’d entered into this arrangement with Neteyam and Lo’ak, your feelings for Neteyam had become more and more difficult to ignore. Your play dates with the brothers were just physical entertainment and nothing more. Or at least, they were supposed to be… But the lines were now blurring horribly between physical and emotional, and your tetchy behaviour this evening was cold, hard evidence of this.
“I don’t like knowing that other women have you too.” Your admission was sulky and muttered so quietly that you weren’t sure if Neteyam even heard you, “When it’s just the three of us at the shack, I can just ignore everything else and pretend otherwise.”
“My, my, possessive are we?” His cocky remark rubbed you the wrong way.
You’d opened up in a moment of vulnerability and his tongue-in-cheek attitude made you feel like he was making fun of you again. With a renewed surge of annoyance, you twisted fiercely in his hold and he released you.
You spun to face him, arms still wrapped around yourself, “Didn’t you say you’d best be off? Fine, you’re not seeing Silwey tonight, but you’ve clearly got somewhere to be, so why don’t you just go so I can have some peace here?”
Neteyam wanted to make a smart quip about you kicking him out of his own family’s hot spring, but decided against it when he saw the glinting hurt in your eyes that you were trying and failing to conceal from him. He held his hands out of the water to show them to you, “What I meant was that I might as well be the one to leave seeing as my skin is getting wrinkly. I don’t actually have anywhere to be.”
“Oh.” Your voice was small.
“Do you want some time to yourself?” Was that a hint of regret you heard in his voice?
Neteyam didn’t want to leave you, if he was truthful. He’d spent the last few weeks waiting for an opportunity to get you alone, dithering in his decision around whether to just ask you outright. He’d been hesitant because he didn’t want to ruin the good thing they had going. He didn’t know whether you were content to just play with him and Lo’ak, and he was afraid that seeking you out on your own might be too close for comfort for you.
The realisation this afternoon that you were annoyed by Silwey’s advances on him was a real stroke to his ego, and he’d teased you about it. However, he comprehended now that his attempt at banter had backfired on him as you appeared more upset than he’d initially thought. Lo’ak had handed him an opportunity tonight, but he may have just blown it…
You fidgeted, your fingers squeezing your upper arms where they were wrapped around you while you deliberated your answer. Eywa, you didn’t want time to yourself if the alternative was a chance at time alone with Neteyam…
You had a chance here to indulge the tender feelings you had for him. You knew it was a dangerous game to play. He was the future olo’eyktan and he would one day mate a woman fit to be tsahìk. That would not be you. You were a warrior, like he was. Neteyam would never be yours and it was stupid to risk your heart for a chance at knowing him like this.
But you were always foolish when it came to him…
“No, you can stay.” You mumbled meekly, “If you want to, that is.”
A tight twinge scorched across your left shoulder muscle then and you gasped, straightening your arm to stretch out the cramp that had seized hold of you. You hissed in pain, grimacing in discomfort.
The water sloshed and lapped as Neteyam rushed to you. He took hold of your cramping arm, crossing it over your front, “Here, stretch across like that and hold it. The cramp should ease soon.”
“Ow, ow!” You whined, stretching your arm across as hard as you could to relieve the cramping muscle. You felt Neteyam’s firm fingers begin to press and push at the knot and relief thankfully found you as the muscle relaxed again. You groaned with a sigh, “Ugh that one hurt like a bitch.”
“You’re very tense across your shoulders. Are you really sore?”
“Yes, that’s why Lo’ak suggested I bathe here in the hot spring.”
Neteyam grinned to himself behind your back, continuing to rub and work at your shoulder muscles. He really owed Lo’ak one now… His brother was an excellent wingman… The fact that you were sore had probably been a nice coincidence in Lo’ak’s plan. His brother would have led you to the spring anyway knowing he was already in there.
“I’m sorry if I upset you with my teasing. I wasn’t doing it to be mean.” Neteyam muttered at your back. “If it’s any consolation I’m possessive of you too. I don’t like sharing you, not even with my brother.”
His words made your heart skip a beat and you curled your tail around his lower leg underwater, “I know.”
You knew he wasn’t fond of sharing. You’d seen it in the way he interacted with you and his brother during your play nights at the shack, but hearing him admit it was satisfying.
Encouraged, Neteyam stepped forward to press himself against your back, his hands still massaging at your shoulders. Your skin was silky smooth and slick under his fingers and your bottom was plush against the front of his hips. His cock twitched in interest and he felt desirous heat pool in his groin. Tucking his chin to nuzzle lightly at the crook of your neck, he drew in the sweetness of your scent which had mixed with the spiciness of the bath oil. You smelled like a delicious treat he’d been hankering after…
Growing more and more relaxed from the wonderful shoulder massage Neteyam was giving you, you let your arms drop and float to your sides in the water, uncaring that it exposed your breasts to him. The little sniffs and puffs of his breath as he scented you were ticklish against the skin of your neck and you grinned silently, fighting the urge to shiver. Reaching back a little, you let your hands ghost over the outsides of his thighs, your fingertips dancing against the firm muscle beneath smooth skin. A deep and rumbling purr was Neteyam’s response of delight.
You’d played with Neteyam before, but it was different like this alone in the hot spring and without Lo’ak as a second playmate. Your current ambience was far more intimate. It felt less like physical play and more like a deep, emotive bonding session with a significant other. Your conscience sounded the alarm bells and your heart bolstered its defences.
You could play with him, but under no circumstances could you fall for him…
Clearing your throat lightly, you turned your head a bit so you could look him in the eye to thank him, “Mm, thanks for that. It’s helped. Do you want me to give you a rub too?”
Neteyam wrinkled his nose at you and the action was both endearing and charming. The press and rub of his fingers against your shoulders didn’t stop though. He bit his lower lip and grinned cheekily at you, “Not a shoulder rub, no.”
The innuendo was clear and you rolled your eyes at him with a small snort. He laughed and the sound was soothing and warm. Damn him and his stupidly handsome face… Which you then realised was beginning to lean down ever so slowly towards yours.
The long lashes that framed Neteyam’s eyes fluttered enchantingly as his gaze shifted between your eyes and your lips, “Can I kiss you, paskalin?”
You could never deny him… not when he always sought your permission so sweetly…
Your body was one step ahead of your brain and you craned your neck back to press your lips to his. The fire of your desire ignited, his kiss like fuel to the flames that consumed you and scorched you from head to toe. A throbbing ache struck up a rhythm at the apex of your thighs, your body instantly yearning to be touched and stroked, surrounded by and filled to the brim with him.
Neteyam groaned against your lips, his head twisting and his mouth opening to allow your tongues to waltz. Your hands snaked farther backward to clutch at his buttocks, pulling his hips and the evidence of his arousal flush against your lower back and bottom. He took a breath and hissed at the contact.
The heat of the water against the lower half of your body was a delightful contrast to the cool air against your upper half. You arched your back against Neteyam, pushing your breasts outward, nipples stiffening to peaks as the wafting steam caressed its way past them on its ascent to the sky.
Neteyam’s lips left yours and proceeded to score a heated path down the side of your neck with lapping kisses. Eyes heavy-lidded through your soaring lust, his name was a breathless sigh on your lips, “Neteyam.”
He gave a low growl at the sound of his name, and his massaging hands moved from kneading your shoulders to trail downward over your collarbone, drifting lower until his calloused palms met your hardened nipples. His voice was rough, “I can’t get enough of you. Every evening at the shack just makes me want you more. Do you know how hard it is to have you as my second-in-command when all I want to do during the day is pin you down and have my way with you?”
Your core pulsed and thrilled at his coarse words. You could feel the tingling of your folds, knew that your body was readying itself with warm, slippery wetness to be penetrated to the hilt.
A smart retort surfaced in your mind and you shot him a brazen grin, “I’m sorry, sir.”
The smile that slowly spread across Neteyam’s face at your comment was positively wicked. It was practically a leer. “Obedience and good manners will get you a long way with me, warrior.”
Slick from the bath oil, you leant back against him while he fondled your breasts, his lips nibbling at the soft point of one ear. You’d never realised how sensitive your ears were, but they were definitely an erogenous zone for you. Every nip and kiss to the skin there made your legs weak and your pussy throb. You could feel the solid length and weight of his erection pressing insistently into your lower back like an unspoken invitation to you of the bodily ecstasy it could bring you.
Neteyam verbalised his invitation, nonetheless, in a rumbling purr, “Play with me tonight. Here. Just you and me.”
Your thighs gave an involuntary squeeze together, the ache in your pussy suddenly growing so intense it felt hotter than the water of the spring you currently stood in. You felt Neteyam clasp your jaw with one hand, tilting your head back and twisting your face so he could plunder your mouth again with his lips and tongue. The velvet sweep and suction of his kiss ensured that what little hesitation you had was promptly abandoned.
However, you couldn’t suppress another sassy retort from leaving your lips, “I don’t know. You don’t have any of those sex toys here tonight to rock my world.”
Neteyam bent his knees slightly, bringing his hips in line with your bottom, and he reached down to reposition his cock so it could slide between your thighs and against your slick folds. His chuckle was dark and his voice was full of sensuous promise in the most sinful of ways, “Oh paskalin, you and I both know that I don’t need any of those toys to have you screaming my name tonight.”
You twisted around to face him, throwing your arms around his neck to claim his lips in a desirous kiss. His hands found your upper thighs and he lifted you easily to wrap your legs around his hips, his hands coming to rest against your bottom. He broke the meld of your lips then and he was breathless as he asked, “Is that a yes? I want to hear you say it.”
This new position in his arms found your face elevated over his. Framing his face with your hands, you peered down into the captivating depths of his eyes and panted back at him, “Yes.”
“Yes, who?” Neteyam’s eyes glinted naughtily and you understood the implication. He wanted to continue playing his game of rank with you…
“Yes, sir.”
The warm water rushed around you then in a surge as Neteyam hoisted you higher in his arms and walked you backwards until your back met the tall rocks behind you, pinning you against it. The rock was warm against your back and while its surface was not jagged, it was still coarse enough to be abrade your skin if you moved too roughly against it.
Neteyam nuzzled at the soft mound of one breast, and you emitted a startled gasp when he sealed his mouth over it, drawing your nipple into his hot mouth with a tormenting suck that made you keen in pleasure. He followed this with flicks of his tongue against the stiff bud of it, and your head lolled backward to land with a mildly painful thud against the rock.
Playing with your body was both pain and pleasure for Neteyam. He relished giving you pleasure and revelled in the way your body writhed and reacted. Your whimpers and moans were music to his ears, but all of this never failed to send his arousal soaring to a fevered pitch, which was where the pain came in. His cock was achingly hard, flexing and throbbing with the desperate need to be buried snugly inside you. His balls felt heavy and swollen, full of seed that his body yearned to gift to you.
With your legs clamped tight around his hips still, and leaving one hand and forearm under your bottom to help keep you propped up, he shifted his other hand towards your core. His knuckles brushed your slick centre and Neteyam groaned against the pillowy flesh of your breasts. You were so slippery soft and ready for him already… but he wanted to tease you more…
Running his knuckles over your pussy, he extended his fingers and gently breached you with two of them, earning him another cry from you. He knew what you liked and he curled his fingers just so, finding the spongey spot on your inner walls that he knew would drive you wild, as he pumped them in and out.
It was an incredible combination of sensation whenever he suckled on your breasts and played with your core. You were already beginning to see stars behind the tight clench of your closed eyelids.
Losing yourself in the building waves of pleasure, you moaned his name harshly with a curse, “Oh fuck, Neteyam.”
His mouth left your breast with succulent pop, “Is that the way to address your commanding officer?” He curled his fingers aggressively inside you, winding the coil of pressure in your pelvis even tighter.
Your apology was a whimper, “No, sorry sir.”
“I’m going to take care of you tonight, but only if you follow my lead. Is that clear?” Neteyam instructed, his speech adopting the formal tone he used with the platoon during the daytimes. He gave a deliberate twist of his fingers and your breath hitched.
“Mm, y-yes sir.”
“What’s your safe word if you need to use it, sweet girl?”
“Tsyoklìt.”
Neteyam couldn’t help his chuckle. It was the same safe word you always used after you had first chosen it when him and Lo’ak had started experimenting with some wilder forms of sexual play with you. However, it wasn’t so much your repetitive choice that amused him but the word itself and the backstory behind it.
Tsyoklìt was a Na’vi word phonetically loaned from its English counterpart: Chocolate.
Your reaction to trying the sweet human treat for the first time would forever remain one of Neteyam’s fondest memories.
The two of you had been younger, still adolescents training to pass your rites of passage to become warriors. It had been a very successful day at training and his father had decided to reward the learners with some chocolate. Jake had handed out the unfamiliar treat, which was then observed and examined with cautious sniffs and curious eyes. He and Lo’ak were already familiar with the foodstuff and had eagerly tucked into their share, prompting the others to do the same.
Most of the trainees had reacted with positive surprise, but not you. Your face had twisted into a grimace at the saccharine taste, lips turning into an unpleasant pout as you fought to swallow the sickeningly sweet bite you had taken. Neteyam had tried very hard not to laugh at your aversion and when he’d asked you what was wrong, you’d told him, “It’s way too sweet. It’s too much, far too much.”
So, in a way, your choice of safe word was rather fitting if things got too much.
Neteyam growled against your chest, feeling the contractions of your inner walls around his fingers, “Fuck, you’re irresistible, you know that? So beautiful and your body is perfect, so responsive.”
The stroking thrusts of Neteyam’s fingers in and out of you was pleasurable, but it wasn’t enough. You wriggled lightly, wishing you could somehow rock your hips to bring some friction against your clit, but the firm hold he had under your bottom and the way he had you trapped against the rock made for a rather unforgiving position.
“I need more.” You murmured your words languorously, and water droplets splattered softly against the spring’s surface when you lifted your hands to weave your fingers through Neteyam’s braids. You writhed again, attempting to find more friction, and Neteyam gave a warning snarl when your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling against his scalp.
“Demanding, are we?” He crooned, nipping at the skin of your neck, “Patience. Good things come to those who wait.”
Neteyam’s grip around your bottom eased and he stepped back so he was no longer pressing you against the rocks. You unwound your legs, sliding down his frame to stand again, very aware of the way his erection bounced free of your thighs as you untangled yourself from him. Your hands flew instantly to his swollen length, teasing it with a stroke-and-twist action you’d discovered Neteyam liked. He gave a guttural grunt and one of his hands flew to brace itself against the rocks.
Your smile was cunning and you chuckled low and husky at him, “It seems I’m not the only one who’s impatient, sir.”
Neteyam snickered, “It’s always an exercise in patience with you.” He let your hands relieve some of the pressure for the time being, content to bury his face into the crook of your neck while he moaned and littered your skin with gentle bites.
Great Mother, you loved when he was like this… Muscles flexing and relaxing, hot breaths against you while he shuddered and groaned from the pleasure you were inflicting on him. His cock was gorgeous like the rest of him: lengthy, thick, and beautiful cerulean blue, with a fat head that drizzled pre-cum if you teased him just right, and speckled with tanhì that glowed bright when he was close to the edge.
Pressing your cheek to his temple, you whispered to him, “You’re gorgeous and I want you inside me so badly.”
The twisting and throbbing pleasure in Neteyam’s midsection sparked in warning at your words and his hands flew to halt the motion of yours. Any more stimulation and he was going to lose his control and spill before he was ready to. He stayed your wrists when you tried to tease his cock some more and he flashed you a cautionary glance, “I need to cool off.”
Looping your arms around his neck you pushed off the balls of your feet to wrap your legs about his hips again. You whined, “No, I need you now.” Wriggling your hips, you felt the head of his cock brush your core where you wanted him most, but Neteyam snaked his arms under your bottom to keep you apart.
“No, I want to enjoy playing with you some more first. My mouth is watering to taste you.”
You bleated in frustration, “No, take me now. Please? Please, sir!”
Neteyam gave a throaty chuckle, walking you both towards the mossy bank, “Nice try.”
Reaching the moss-topped embankment, Neteyam lifted your body and sat you down on it, “Lie back, paskalin.”
He remained in the hot spring, the water pooling about his waist. The edge of the bank sat flush against his sternum and his intention was clear in his eyes as gently pushed against your chest, urging you to lie down. Neteyam had expressed his desire to taste you and you knew that he was going to do just that; torture you with his lips and tongue until you were begging for all of him.
Leaning down with a slight pout at being denied your request to be penetrated, you stole one last kiss from his moist lips before obeying his instruction, “Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.” Neteyam purred, watching as you lay down and automatically lifted your legs into the air, bent at the knees, to display yourself to him.
He almost groaned and his cock throbbed eagerly at the erotic vision you made. Dewdrops of water clung to the supple skin of your thighs and though all of you was damp from the hot spring, your pussy glistened with your own slick moisture. The elevation of the bank was perfect for what he was about to do. All he had to do was lean down a little and he’d be able to lick and delve through your slick folds.
Curling one large hand around one of your hips to steady you, he ran his other in a tantalising rub over your lower belly. When the first lap of his tongue stroked over your core, you jumped with a soft wail. He bent to kiss you where you now burned the hottest, his tongue and lips making love to your clit, isolating it and sucking moderately. He took his time tasting you, drinking you in leisurely and languidly. It’d always taken your breath away how skilled Neteyam was with this particular act.
When you don’t want to give the whole of your body to another, you learn to please them in other ways… This was what he’d told you once. Fortunately for you, this was only ever a warm-up. You’d have all of him in the end, you just needed to be patient.
It wasn’t just his lips and tongue that Neteyam employed, he would rub his nose back and forth over you too. And then his fingers would join the endeavour, curling, stroking and stoking your pleasure higher and higher until you felt like you were thin and brittle glass, ready to shatter at any moment.
Your core pulsated with bliss as Neteyam continued his work. His mouth continued its suckling on your clit and two of his fingers gave your pussy the attention it so craved. Your hands were clutching at his braids, your hips rocking against his face as you whimpered and moaned. The atmosphere felt hot. It’d been a little chilly when he’d first lifted you from the warm water, but that was no longer the case. Your body burned for him, the pressure in your lower belly taut and tight, on the brink of orgasm.
“Oh, I’m so close,” Your breaths were heaving, your voice unstable, and you only caught yourself just in time from saying his name instead of his formal address as you pleaded, “N-Nete- Sir, please!”
Neteyam’s approval at your formal address of him rumbled against you. He fought a smirk, keeping his lips and tongue trained on the swollen bud at the apex of your thighs. You were so slick that the action of his fingers was squelching obscenely and he swore his cock was pulsing in time with each clench and throb of your pussy.
Boldly, knowing that he and his brother had experimented with you recently in this form of play, he moved his free hand from your hip to run a slick thumb over your butthole. You startled a little at the feel of it, but he continued to massage his thumb over the puckered flesh. There were no toys present tonight, but he knew you’d enjoyed the use of the butt plugs during the last couple of sessions at the shack. His thumb would have to do tonight.
You gave a muffled yelp at the addition of Neteyam’s thumb in your butt. It was a third point of pleasure on top of what he was already doing, and it only served to intensify the rhythmic clenching of your pelvic muscles. You could feel that you were flushed from head to toe. Your thighs were trembling where they hung suspended and splayed wide in the air, and your nipples were erect, kissing the night air. But Great Mother, the paradise that you were experiencing between your thighs was staggering. You lifted your head and tipped your chin forward to look down at Neteyam, only to find his golden eyes trained right back at you as he drove your body to its limit.
There was no holding on anymore at that point. The intensity of the lust in his eyes tipped you over the precipice you’d been teetering on. Your fist flew to your mouth, stifling your shriek of ecstasy as the waves of pleasure crested and crashed over you.
Neteyam was fighting a battle of his own, wrestling with what little remained of his body’s control as he watched and felt your body explode with pleasure. Your body squeezed around his fingers and he had a fleeting moment of panic when he felt his glutes tighten and his cock tense up, ready to spurt. Removing himself from you, he held on with everything he had through a clenched jaw.
Spent, you lowered your legs and let your shins hang off the embankment’s edge. You watched through bleary eyes as Neteyam rinsed lightly, before he hauled himself out of the water and onto the bank with a splash. He scooted backwards to join you and he stretched out alongside your form, one of his hands immediately moving to cup your cheek so he could tilt your head to kiss you.
“You did so well, sweet girl. Not that you’ve ever disappointed before.” He smoothed a palm over your head, patting down the stray fly-aways of hair from your forehead.
“Thank you,” You mumbled, and when his forehead crinkled in question, awaiting something, you rolled your eyes and added, “Sir.”
Neteyam rolled onto his side towards you, his big body sheltering you as he moved to twine one of his legs between yours, “I nearly lost my control back there.” He spoke against your lips between deep kisses, his breath hot and sweet against your mouth, “My every waking thought is tainted with you. My nightly dreams are wild with you. You drive me insane, Neyomi.”
You swallowed his every kiss, every declaration he made adding to the blooming warmth you had tried so hard for weeks to stifle in your heart. You wanted him alone like this every night. You wanted him to yourself, whenever and wherever you wished. You were drowning wholly and unreservedly in him. You were in way over your head with your emotions now and you knew it.
Clutching at one of his buttocks, you shifted beneath him and urged the rest of his heavy weight to settle over you and in the cradle of your hips, “Then take me now, sir. Have me how you want.”
Chuckling darkly, Neteyam briefly rose to sit on his haunches with his knees folded. He tucked your bottom closer to the vee of his thighs and placed his hands behind your knees, “You’ve been so good playing our little game today, addressing me formally. But I’m going to make you scream one more time tonight.” He pressed his weight downward, folding your legs back until your ankles were almost in line with your ears. He settled himself over you, bracing his weight on his elbows and he purred against your cheek, “And when you scream, paskalin, I want to hear my name on your lips. Am I clear?”
It was an erotic promise delivered with all the confidence of a man who knew he would succeed in his task, and as you lay sprawled and folded over beneath him, all you could do was submit to the coming onslaught of pleasure, “Yes, sir.”
Blood pounded in your ears in anticipation as you felt Neteyam position his cock at your entrance, the blunt head of it probing for the right angle to sink into your depths. With a slight adjustment to the tilt of your hips, he found home and he penetrated you in one full thrust. You threw your head back with a strangled cry at the gratifying fullness of him. The position you were in allowed for the deepest penetration possible and you felt all of him like this.
“You alright?” Neteyam queried, checking in with you though his own voice sounded strained.
You nodded, and it was all the permission he needed.
Drawing his hips back, Neteyam slammed back into you, setting a punishing pace as he thrusted. Every single stroke of his hips drove the head of his cock past your g-spot and it slid all the way in to hit your cervix. The sensation was a mixture of both pain and pleasure in the most carnally satisfying way. There was so much of him, your pussy enveloping his hard length from root to tip repeatedly as his thrusts continued to wind the coil of pressure tighter between your hips. His breathing was harsh by your ear and the sounds leaving him were an erotic mixture of growls, grunts, moans and whimpers.
Neteyam was unaware of anything else around him currently, singularly focused on you and spellbound by the immense pleasure radiating throughout his midsection. Your own cries and mewls spurred him on and when he felt you snake a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, he knew you were fast approaching your climax, and so was he.
Your inner walls fluttered around his cock and he let his head drop against your neck. Through the haze of your bliss you heard him grate out one last order, “Squirt for me, sweet girl. I know you can. I can feel how you need to.”
And you knew you would. There was little doubt about it as the familiar feeling of needing to release something burned behind your pubic bone. You almost always did now whenever Neteyam fucked you. There was just something about him; whether it was the way your bodies came together, the shape and size of his cock, the way he thrusted, or the way he would often whisper filthy things in to your ear, you always had very wet orgasms with him.
No other man had ever made your body feel the way he did. Not even Lo’ak had succeeded in making you squirt (much to his chagrin). It seemed your body reserved that rightly solely for Neteyam.
Your orgasm threatened, looming on the horizon while you massaged your clit faster. It was all pleasure; burning, aching, throbbing pleasure and you whined, straining to reach the burst of release that was so mind-blowing it sometimes felt like you’d blacked out for several moments.
“That’s it.” Neteyam encouraged, still maintaining the gruelling rhythm of his thrusts, “What’s my name?”
“N-Neteyam.” Your voice was a stuttered sob.
“Good girl. Let go, paskalin. Scream for me.”
With several heaving intakes of breath, you felt your orgasm crash through you, your pussy contracting rhythmically while several sprays of squirt spattered between your colliding bodies. His name tore from your throat in a carnal scream that you threw to the night sky above you, “NETEYAM!”
Neteyam’s entire frame strained and then tensed, and a grating growl left him as his own climax followed. His cock pulsed hard as he ejaculated, his hips pressed so tightly to yours it was as if he wanted to become one with your body and never part from you again. He slumped onto his side, breathless and panting rapidly while his body fought to find its equilibrium again after its euphoria. Yours was doing the same while you rested flat on your back with limp legs.
Usually, the afterglow after you’d played with Neteyam and Lo’ak was peaceful and pleasant, the three of you just cuddling and talking before cleaning up. However, tonight you felt uneasy in the face of your waning pleasure and you were very aware of Lo’ak’s absence. Neteyam was sprawled lethargically to your left, one of his legs tangled with yours while one of his arms was thrown over your abdomen.
It was a confronting sight and situation, being alone post-sex with Neteyam with nothing or no one else there to distract your mind from spiralling into the mess of your emotions. Your body still hummed with the remnants of your climax, but your heart seized in your chest with the realisation Neteyam had ruined you for anyone else now. You were quite certain that your body, mind and soul would never yearn for any other like it did for this man.
“Hey, you.” Neteyam’s voice crooned softly, and you returned your attention to him. His eyes were heavy with his somnolence and his expression was soft, contented. He stroked a finger over your cheek and trailed it over your lips. You instinctively puckered your lips in a gentle kiss.
“Hey,” You parroted, suddenly lost for words and not knowing what else to say.
He leaned over towards you and gathered you in his arms so you were flush against his chest. He stroked a warm hand over your hair before he began to lay tender kisses on your face; your cheek, your nose, both your eyes and then your forehead. It was both wonderfully and terrifyingly intimate.
You were in far too deep. You’d taken a risk; a beautiful and indulgent risk, and it was abundantly clear to you now how unwise it had been. Neteyam was out of your reach as a potential mate. You could never be truly his. It wasn’t your place.
His hand continued its path of caresses over your face, and you felt him rub his cheek against your head. The occasional brush of his lips along your hairline or along the delicate shell of your ear followed while he murmured sweet nothings to you; about how beautiful you were; how good you had been with him; how good you felt in his arms…
This dreamy intimacy had to stop. There was a line between body play and love, and you didn’t know where it was anymore. This was too much, too sweet…
One word slipped from your lips, painful in the implication of its meaning, “Tsyoklìt.”
Neteyam stilled at the mention of your safe word. He pulled back a little to regard you with a furrowed brow. Your playtime session had ended, so your utterance of the word was unexpected.
Meeting your gaze, he found your eyes wide with uncertainty and several emotions flashed across his handsome face as his mind processed your reaction: Mild confusion, slight amusement, surprise, and then sudden comprehension. A mumbled apology tumbled from his lips. He pushed up on an elbow to sit up, shuffling away to put some space between you at the realisation that he’d made you uncomfortable with his tender show of affection.
You felt a sharp pinprick in your chest as he moved away from you. It was the last thing you wanted… but you had to work smart now… You couldn’t dig yourself a hole any bigger than the one you were already in or you’d never make it out…
The atmosphere was suddenly taut with uncomfortable tension. It felt like something between the both of you had shifted; like the world was now somehow wrong and sitting off its intended axis. You swallowed the burgeoning lump in your throat and stared wordlessly at the man before you.
Neteyam’s expression was neutral, but you knew he’d schooled it that way intentionally. But he hadn’t done it quickly enough for you to miss the hurt that had flickered in his eyes for a brief moment.
Eywa, what had you done?... What had you both done?... You were so thoroughly fucked in this mess now…
***~~~***
Author's Note:Thank you all so much for reading. Thank you for all your support! It means the absolute world to me to hear from you. Comments, likes & reblogs are always so appreciated. 💕
I do have a Part 4 planned, and we will see another Sully bro threesome in it, plus more emotional drama between NeteyamxReader (Neyomi).
Let me know if I have your user in the taglist wrong and for those who'd like to be added, give me a shout in the comments. 😄
Part IV - Haunted by You now HERE
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tarisilmarwen · 8 months
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Rebels Rewatch: "The Last Battle"
Well TCW fans were happy lol.
It's weird to write these as someone who has very little emotional investment in TCW.
Okay, full disclaimer, I have seen quite a chunk of the show, the husband showed me several of the best arcs, I've seen scattered bits and pieces here and there so I know who a lot of the key players are, a lot of the important events and everything but... I dunno the whole Clone Wars era has just never been a big area of interest for me.
Happy for y'all tho?
Anyway.
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[Insert commentary about how this show has really gorgeous environments and y'all sleeping on this work and effort.]
Kanan lampshading the tendency for missions to go sideways ha ha.
Ooof this verbal stumble by Rex is painful, he doesn't know how to act in a scenario where a Jedi is not his commanding officer, ouch.
Oh wow, just like Ezra, Rex shields himself inside his helmet.
Ezra messing with the B1 head awww.
Side note: I LOVE how stocky the model for clones is in Rebels. TCW clones always felt too tall and thin to me, Rebels clones look way more like Temura Morrisan's actual physique.
Ezra accidentally being insensitive about the Clone Wars moment number 1.
Kanan's comment about "scars you can't see". Something the animated shows have always excelled at is showing the genuine aftereffects of PTSD.
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Ezra's been playing the Watson role for the past few episodes and it is adorable.
Rex's initial panic when he thinks he's back in the war. :(((
I understand that TCW fandom cried a lot about Rex calling Cody's name unconsciously here.
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*sobs* Ezra still looks so TINY compared to everyone else.
Kalani assumed the shutdown order was a Republic trick lol.
Lasats not being part of the Clone Wars is an interesting detail. Obviously, Doylistically speaking, they couldn't have been since they weren't created yet, but also I like the idea that Lasats were adamantly against participating in the conflict and the Separatists took one look at them and decided invading them anyway wasn't worth it.
Ezra maybe naively jumps into things feet first, to Rex and Kanan's consternation. They both already know that War Is Hell. But they also have the best chance of getting out of the situation if they relive their collective war experiences and face their past by fighting one last Clone Wars battle.
Oh hey! It's the shuttle they'd repurpose later as the Phantom II!
Hera and Sabine's small B-plot is very brief, but hilarious.
I think Pryce must have pulled a LOT of political favors in order to be granted occasional command of her own Star Destroyer. She's apparently allowed to lay a trap for the Spectres specifically and has the authority to deploy local Imperial outposts, too.
Not bad for a planetary governor. But then, Pryce was always ambitious beyond her station.
She attached herself to Thrawn primarily for the advancement opportunities, I think.
The sex was probably good too I mean what?
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The boys be looking good.
Lol Kanan can hear the cacophony of clanking droid footprints.
Poor Ezra is so lost with all these references.
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This is just a fun adventure for him, he doesn't have the frame of reference to know just how harrowing and dangerous this could be for the average Clone Wars Jedi commander and clone unit. So he doesn't know to keep tighter formation and wants to keep charging ahead instead of waiting to assess.
Rex casually calling his training and conditioning and genetic modulation his "programming", directly comparing himself to the droids. Ow. Ow ow ow ow. Hurting in "Central thesis of TCW, that the clones are not just identical mindless meat droids but individual and free-thinking men" feelings.
Kalani and Zeb's exchange here is hilarious.
Chopper jumpscaring Ezra lol.
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Just wholecloth grabs his wrist like an excited kid trying to show their parent something.
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He's come so far, I'm so proud. All he needs is the slightest gesture.
OH HEY IT'S MY FAVORITE SCENE.
Rex is... I think a little rattled by getting hit. Sure, the armor protected him, but you know it can't have been fun and he probably thought for a moment he had gone down for real. So yeah, Ezra's innocently flippant attitude about things upsets him.
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"A good soldier follows orders!" Ouch. Ow ow ow ow that phrase, Rex, please.
You know it's something that's gotta echo inside his head constantly, his programming won't let him forget it.
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Eternally a fan of the kicked-puppy flinch Ezra gives here.
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Kanan immediately reassuring Ezra that it's not him. <3
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The beginnings of a realization.
I slowed this sequence way down to check where Ezra got hit (for... reasons) and from what I can tell, it looks like Ezra didn't quite manage to block a shot and some of it fritzed past his blade and hit his right collar, right where his armor is.
Rex gets dinged in the helmet moments later, but as he said, "Gen 1 armor always holds up." Once again, Rebels showing off the importance of good armor. :)
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<333333
The group get up to the command center and Ezra starts to live up to his name as "bridger" between disparate groups, first pointing out that by all rights the droids should have won their skirmish, they were just too old to actually function correctly. Kalani agrees and claims victory, but Ezra also pushes against that, pointing out that none of them actually won the Clone Wars. It just... ended.
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The more techie side of Star Wars YouTube have analyzed both sides and concluded that, absent the obvious direction and self-sabotage by Palpatine, the Separatists would have eventually won the Clone Wars. But of course the sabotage and playing both sides was the point. No one was supposed to win the Clone Wars because it wasn't a real war, it wasn't naturally occurring or organic, it was a massive artificial power play by Palpatine, who instigated, incited, prolonged, and manipulated things so that whichever side "won", he would come out on top as the victor standing on the corpses of the Jedi.
Palpatine set both sides up to fail.
This is something Star Wars fandom repeatedly fails to understand, there was no winning in this whole situation. The trap was too carefully set, nothing the Jedi or the Senate or the Separatists did could have prevented the war from happening and nothing they did could have stopped its ultimate endgoal, which was the destruction of the Jedi Order and the consolidation of power under Palpatine as sole ruler of the galaxy. That's the whole tragedy, that they tried so hard, got so close, but ultimately could not prevent that awful fate from happening.
Barring Anakin sitting his ass down for just five more minutes or slashing through the correct party in Palpatine's office, there was no narrative escape. The choices were damned if you do, damned if you don't, and either way you're ending up dead.
Anyway, Ezra's armor-piercing questions absolutely stun Rex and Kalani into silence for a moment before Zeb points out the Empire won. Because they decided to conveniently show up just in time for a good Enemy Mine situation lol.
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Kalani resists the logic at first since he's not at war with the Empire but the Stormtroopers casually destroying his scout unit probably helped change his mind lol.
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Ezra Persuasion Checks both Kalani and Rex into accepting the team-up, like the budding little diplomat he is. :)
"Well this takes trust to a whole new level." Lol.
Nice to see the B1s retaining their status as hilariously abused butt monkeys.
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Rex praising Ezra for "ending the Clone Wars" ahhhhh.
Sabine's eyes lighting up when she sees the shuttle they're bringing awww.
And TCW-inspired credits as a nice little homage.
Predictably this is one of the husband's favorite episodes. It's a fun little romp, pays some love to TCW and develops Ezra's character a bit. It doesn't really affect the larger story outside of that so I guess it could be called filler, but it's a fun filler.
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direwombat · 4 months
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a wip wednesday? on my birthday? it's more likely than you think 🎉
tagged by @adelaidedrubman and @g0dspeeed to share some wip (tysm~! <3)
enjoy the first little bit of katc chapter 6/interlude ii
Hope County, MT. September 13, 2018. St. Francis Veterans Center, Whitetail Mountains. 10:35pm.
Toiling away by the light of a single desk lamp, Jacob Seed sits hunched over his desk, going over the day’s reports. Throughout the course of the evening, his reading glasses have slipped down the bridge of his nose and now perch at its tip. His neck and shoulders ache, but the night isn’t over yet.
Years of meticulous planning and intense preparation have gotten them this far, but all that time, they were operating in the shadows. They were outcasts by choice, keeping to themselves and biding their time until given the order to strike. Joseph had taken care to amass an army, just as Jacob, John, and Faith kept them well trained, motivated, and dumb. But now that the Reaping has begun, now that they’ve declared war, they need to act fast
Victory is never a guarantee, and the longer the fight goes on, the more likely it is that the Resistance will start gaining ground. The element of surprise is gone; now, he and his soldiers are digging in for the long fight. 
This is his final stand against the world who wronged him. His swan song. His way of ensuring a better future for his brothers and sister to make up for the way he failed once before. 
He will not fail again. He can’t. 
Just as Noah survived the flood, so too will they survive the fires of war. 
And when his family is safe -- when they’re underground, hibernating in the safety of their bunkers, he can finally rest. He’ll watch the world burn, and when the smoke fills his lungs and his body gives out from exhaustion, he’ll lay his head down and close his eyes one last time. 
His work will be done. He’ll have served his purpose.
But until then, he must remain vigilant and on guard. He is their sword and shield. He has a purpose, and he can’t allow himself a moment’s weakness until that purpose is fulfilled. 
He sits up and groans as his spine realigns and a series of violent pops sound loudly in the silence of his office. With a heavy sigh, he lets the report he’d been reading float back down onto his desk. His hand reaches for the mug that rests off to the side and lifts it to his lips. The coffee inside has gone from tepid to cold since he last took a sip. His face scrunches involuntarily, the acrid bitterness too much, even for him. 
Rising from his desk, he takes a moment to stretch before moving over to the coffee maker resting on one of his filing cabinets for a refill. What’s left in the carafe is still warm, and he stops pouring only when the surface tension threatens to break. Carefully lifting the mug once again, he takes a sip. It burns his tongue and he breathes a small sigh of relief. That’s better. 
His attention turns to the bulletin board on the nearby wall and regards it with a critical eye. He’d been adding pins and grainy photographs to it as he’s been getting reports in. Overall, the Reaping has been going according to plan -- at least according to his Chosen. He holds an iron grip over the Whitetails, and according to the faxes he’s received from the Valley and Henbane, the infantry has done well to overpower the average citizen of the county.
His men are all in position and the outposts are secure. Roadblocks are in place at all entrances and exits to the Whitetails and there are regular boat patrols along the shores. Radio jammers are blocking all non-Project frequencies, cutting off enemy communication. Jess Black has been captured and is being held at the lumber mill, and Deputy Pratt is set to be shipped to the Grand View for conditioning at dawn. 
And with the rogue Deputy currently in John’s custody, he can focus his attention on neutralizing the one threat that’s his own damn fault. 
Eli Palmer knows too much.
Jacob should have known it was a mistake to trust him. Bringing in outsiders is always dangerous, but he’d been so sure he could convince Eli to join the cause. He was a former soldier and current prepper. He saw the state of the world; knew it was only a matter of time before it came to an end. It’s how he’d convinced the man to help build the bunkers in the first place. He never said anything to confirm or deny, but he’d allowed Eli to think that the bunkers were meant for everyone in the county. Or, at least he did up until a few weeks ago when he’d asked him to join the project; fight as one of his Chosen. 
After all Jacob had done to give Eli purpose -- especially after his wife took the kid and ran -- all he got in return was betrayal. The other man had all but spit in his face before sneaking away in the dead of night not just with the blueprints for the Armory, but his siblings’ bunkers as well. He’s been hiding somewhere in the Whitetails ever since, and if Jacob’s intel is to be believed, then it sounds like Eli’s trying to piece together his own army to fight back. 
The very man who helped build their arks -- their salvation -- could just as easily destroy them. Jacob needs to stop that before it happens. He needs to nip that little problem in the bud before Eli gathers enough bodies to launch a counter-attack. 
Eli Palmer needs to die.  
tagging: @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl, @ivymarquis, @jillvalentinesday, @cassietrn, @poetikat, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners, @afarcry5fromstraight, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @inafieldofdaisies, @josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts, @madparadoxum, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @voidika, @strangefable (taglist opt in/out)
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