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elvirable · 9 months

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Instincts

[ Astarion x f!Reader/Tav ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count: 3.7k | status: complete themes/tags: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light angst at the end, you know the sex scene after the tiefling party?, yeah so this is it, with astarions pov, already catching feelings smh, smut is halfway through, just skip to after all early dialogue

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Little did he know that evening, that was the beginning of his simple plan crumbling apart.

In other words: Astarion has been struggling to balance century-long instincts with newfound feelings, an undeniable connection. He carries out his simple little plan as intended, but meets complications he didn't quite expect. ----------- A/N: so i hung up my cod medals of honor to write this.. i've been playing for a month now. originally posted without proofreading, but its now edited for grammar and some terms -----

It was hard not to have fun around you.

Something of a child-like giddiness would buzz through his nerves whenever you sauntered over, his marbled red eyes wouldn't dare to miss a beat of the vision you were. Swaying hips and that deceivingly coy face. Of course, you were strikingly beautiful – a wickedly delectable sight – but that wasn’t the only source of his carnal anticipation.

It was just you, the enigmatic little thing you were.

Admittedly, Astarion believed he had read you like an open book the moment he laid eyes on you. It was an instinct of his: gathering a cerebral repository of notable ticks and body language, facial twitches, and octave changes in those around him. Watchful, constant observations.

He had chalked you up to a sort of stoic character at first. Graceful, to a degree, in your manner of subtly balancing the world around you. A stable composure, quick and quiet without brash or idle chatter.. unlike that Gale. You were a less flagrantly repulsive hero-type crafted in his mind – but he had still expected you to be oh-so predictable with a shallow drive for self-emaciating ‘justice’. Whereas the others wore their baggage like a garment, you held your cards close to your chest – like a chameleon suddenly thrust into the spotlight.

Yet the sun rose and fell two or three times around the wilderness of Elturel, when he found himself pleasantly contradicted. He normally didn’t dedicate much attention towards someone he believed he so easily pegged, but his interest began to pique. Just enough to leave him sitting with an edge and a consuming desire to peer in closer.

Maybe it was the way your mouth twitched into a quiet smile during his verbal antics on the road or the firm passiveness you held from the blighted village to the drama of Emerald Grove; an intoxicatingly confusing blend of traits you harbored. The closer he watched you, the less blurred you became. You didn’t fear being authentic and enforcing boundaries to those who attempted to use you – but you weren’t cruel; you met the world around you just as it was, without discrimination. No unnecessary harm, no free handouts either.

Or perhaps it was your sarcastic remarks that stirred what little glee he had in him; an especially delicious and refreshing insight into your humor. While he could care to give a critical note or two on your lack of blatant cruelty, Astarion respected your compelling demeanor; he witnessed how all these companions turned their eyes so frequently to you with decision.

But what he did know for sure was the eye contact.

Gods, the first time your heads swiveled mid-strife and your gazes locked with a rich crackle – the memory alone was enough to stupefy him! Something strange stirred, something that didn’t sit comfortably. He didn’t know what to make of it.

With all this said, that same sensation boiled inside his stomach as he mulled over his every interaction with you. He recalled that moment of midnight – when all was still and you had caught him prepared to taste your throat. Your wary stare pierced through him, washing away briefly the desperate pangs of blood-thirst and left him feeling.. nervous.

Ugh, how he despised the feeling.

He was sickened when all those ledgers of observations caved in on himself, caught in his pale throat. He had taken such an overwhelming liking to you – to the extent, he had realized, that he was drawn to your guidance, your approval; a repulsive frustration at the time enough to coil through his cold veins. Without much to say, however, he was adamantly relieved when you conceded and soon regularly allowed him to drink from your slender neck.

His trail of thoughts glossed over your stifled grunts onto the following morning: when you came to his defense as everyone felt the need to chime in with their unfettered prejudices. And how his ease, his excitement around you became persistently potent – a fresh energy that filled him as you spurred on his teasings and whims. Astarion noticed your subtle release of your ever-strong walls, just enough so he could relish in your humor and affable side.

There was always a hesitation at doting on the sensation that rose inside him at these thoughts of you. He surmised he was merely back in the practice; where he spun honeyed words and charmingly guile eye contact, to wrap his target around his finger. Any little edge of control he could grasp onto, the familiar taste of influence he used to know so well. These habits of two hundred years were kicking in. He’d play the part and – sooner or later – this eagerness to please would be reversed onto you.

Whether it was his own willful denial or the culmination of fate’s ever-spinning thread, the first crumble began the night of the tiefling party.

Cool and clear was the star-freckled night. Everything was too merry for him: the wide-toothed grins of the tieflings, sharp strums of the lute, the chatter. Even the wine was downright awful, pungent and tart like vinegar.

Astarion would’ve normally indulged in his bitter mood, but it was the sight of your drunken smile that diffused his prior desire to complain.

How interesting, he thought as his eyes lapped up your squinted grin and eased laughter. It was helplessly infectious to see you so earnest, casually prattling on in conversation throughout the camp.

Red eyes followed while you made your rounds, encouraging the tiefling’s dancing lights spell and conversing with the bard. Astarion even raised a brow at the playful expression that washed over your face as you spoke to the hulking druid by the name of Halsin. When you strolled over to Shadowheart and he caught that carefully provocative glint in the raven-haired cleric’s eyes – a chord of jealousy grew taut inside his chest.

He had half the mind to feel insulted that you hadn’t wandered in his direction yet, but that was quickly dispersed when he noticed you dismiss yourself and head towards a wooden crate near the riverfront.

Almost like a shadow, Astarion swept in your direction. Whether it was to merely take in your smile up close or to put his plan in motion, he settled on the latter. You were rifling through the crate that held what could barely pass as wine, muttering a quiet curse about the little tiefling probably pocketing a bottle or two.

“Here’s my little treat with her cheeks all flushed,” the words dripped from his mouth with a sweet cadence. “You will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?”

You swiveled at the sound of his voice, raised brow accompanying your hazy smile. The influence of wine lowered your usual wariness, and he caught the realization flutter across your face; there was no constitution in attempting to act reserved, especially with the rapport you two had grown. Amusement was written all over your face, hardly concealed – you had decided to play along.

“A little treat? You can do better than that.”

“Oh, I certainly can. It would be my pleasure.”

He leaned closer, half-lidded eyes darkening and breath heavy with a mischievous delight. You watched him expectantly, reveling in what would pour from his lips.

“How about this one,” he loosened his posture, as if you both were stowed away from the entire world instead of dawdling along the outskirts of the shoddy camp. “All these accolades from the tieflings are nothing compared to the sound of my name, cried from your lips.”

Astarion watched the smile further spread across your soft lips, the wickedly sweet crinkle in your eyes while you crossed your arms. An exhilaration rose underneath his suave demeanor, even the bemused snicker invigorating.

“Is that the best you can do?” came your quick quip.

“Hmm, let me give it another go,” his voice was thick with arousal, a hungry glint in his eyes. “Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation – it’s as if the Gods made you just to ruin me.”

His words clung to the air for a moment. The deliberate onslaught of poetic pleasantries laced with such ardent lust, the hum of the wine – Astarion studied your face swirling in thought. Heat had built up from the lower half of your body up to your cheeks, a quiet neediness wavering in your stance and threatened to boil to the surface of your skin.

Gods, you were thinking, it had been the longest time and you’ve been touch-starved.. more so under the urgency of all the trouble you had been thrust into. You never trusted a pretty boy, but you'd be damned if his flowered prose didn't stir something in you; you had never been the subject of such pursuits, real or not. Desire rushed through you, coiling in your stomach.

There was a beckoning in his eyes as they clutched onto yours, imporing you to draw closer, and his boyish features were even more alluring when caressed by the moon’s glow. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to trust those flowery words. They were tinted with an air of rehearse.

“Did these really work on Cazador’s targets?”

“Well, they’re working on you, aren’t they?”

A mild bashfulness buzzed through the warmth on your cheeks, as you couldn’t really deny it.

“How about if I said these little words… everyone’s favorite,” Astarion continued, pausing for effect.

“I love you.”

Sly amusement colored his face. He had succeeded in riling up the intrinsic urge, no matter how much you tried to conceal it. How adorable you were when your gaze fluttered briefly.

“Having fun, are you?” you observed, smile holding on your lips.

As he had mused earlier, he was. It was hard not to whenever around you.

Festivities settled down, the entire camp fast asleep once the wine crate had emptied and bellies were full. Only the chittering of crickets could be heard amongst the trees.

The forest, usually dressed in potent darkness, stilled beneath the moonlight. A serene, subtle beauty of the night – one Astarion was very accustomed to knowing, to living . He had done this so many times it had become second nature – the salacious rendezvous, the secrecy and fleeting thrill of them all.

He had contemplated before, the image of you melting in the throes of pleasure. He wondered whether you preferred his hands gentle or rough, what sounds would dribble from your lips – if they sounded as sweet as you tasted.

Though nothing could prepare him for the reality, which far surpassed fantasy; the pretty little thing you were, bare figure caressed by the lowlight, slowly making your way towards him.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”

You offered him a coy smile, cheeks still warm and rosy. An ache rushed between your legs at the sight of him sauntering forward, his well-formed broad physique. Lean, yet muscular – and the soft details of his appearance; the crease of laughter lines, the curl of his lashes. Just the anticipation of it all served enough to make you wet.

“Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you,” he leaned closer, desire coating every syllable.

“You don’t have me yet,” you matched the pulse of his words, emanating a playfulness to goad him on further.

Greedy lips suddenly met yours, and you were pressed against the tree trunk. His palms gripped the back of your thighs, swift dexterity almost catching you off guard. You instantly melted, like a puddle, in his grasp; your soft lips just as eager, skin aching and impatient for his touch. You never realized how sensitive you were, how truly touch-starved until you fought the gasp that escaped your throat.

Astarion didn’t waste a beat, carefully laying you onto the grass below while he drawled slow kisses along the curve of your neck. Fervent yearning permeated from your skin; you wanted more, and he was prepared to give you everything .

He drank in the sight of your arousal, eager to please you yet potently roused from the position he was in: you were such a delectably pretty thing sprawled beneath his weight, completely bare and vulnerable. Wide eyes bashfully beckoning him to just taste you.

“Part those precious legs for me, beautiful.” He directed, his voice less of a growl this time – instead more sweet. Soft.

You could feel your face heat up further at his words, following his command without hesitation. Tender hands trailed along the soft skin of your thigh, his intense eyes briefly leaving yours to watch his fingers lingered over your folds – you were glistening with slick , fevered arousal.

“Oh my, you’re already so wet for me.”

His voice was almost a whisper now, as a keen excitement rushed through his veins. A twitch pressed against his briefs, his cock already hard and eager especially when his eyes darted towards your rosy. So willing, ready to indulge his every whim. For a moment, he settled in your vulnerability – a sight he didn't expect to see. You were always full of such delicious surprises.

He shook the thought from his mind, allowing a sly smile to return to his lips.

“Who knew you were so needy?”

Your cheeks flushed, timid lips scrambling to form a defensive retort before he slipped two fingers inside. Only a quiet gasp left your mouth as your soaking warmth struggled to adjust, tightening around his digits. You were barely able to comprehend the words he said, instinctively bucking your hips.

“ Astar ..” your breath hitched before you could even finish, when his fingers began a slow pace. Teasingly slow, you would beckon, but there was nothing you could even fathom whispering anymore. Your walls began to clench, eager to receive his unwavering attention.

Hums of pleasure pulsed through your every nerve, rapidly as he fastened the curling pace of his fingers. Every hitched and quiet whimper encouraged him, his palm soaked with your slick. He relished the sight of your round breasts rising and falling feverishly, your heat clenched around him – his cock further hardened, precum no doubt pooling on the fabric of his briefs.

All you could manage was to focus on the pleasure mounting between your legs, thighs now quivering with anticipation. His thumb slid up to your swollen clit, never breaking pace, to draw teasingly slow circles. He adjusted his weight to lean closer to your face, the sudden attention causing an overwhelming shyness to press your eyes shut. Your thighs trembled more now while his fingers beckoned and lured your pleasure to spur closer and closer.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice the gentlest you’ve ever heard.

He couldn’t place the sensation – of feeling entranced in a sense, when whimpers of pleasure fumbled from your beautiful lips. Astarion almost felt lost, nearly mesmerized, when you kept those pretty eyes trained on his. He could feel his eyes soften at your vulnerable stare, and all at once everything inside him craved to slide into your warmth. To feel you melt into him, to hit every right spot to make you sing, for every sweet prayer cascading from your lips to be for him.

“Mmf..” You were left in a sudden foggy haze, a mix of pleasure and confusion when he abruptly withdrew his fingers. You couldn’t fathom any words to speak, only furrowed your brows in a hazed and disorientated manner.

“I’m sorry, love.” His breathless laugh seemed dazed before the low, heaviness returned to his tone, “You were practically just begging with those lovely eyes of yours.”

He leaned downwards to plant soft, reassuringly delicate pecks across the nape of your neck; each a mantra to affection, leaving a buzz in their wake. Carefully he peeled down his briefs with a wasted moment to rub his eager cock against your slick warmth.

Your moans sounded even sweeter closer to his ear, and a delighted sigh pressed from his lips onto your skin. His throbbing cock was met with some resistance as the length and girth was suffocated by your tightening walls, warm spasms at the sensation being filled.

A guttural, low moan hummed from his throat. Fuck, you were so perfectly tight.

His cock pulsed at the sudden attention, aching with pleasure and a warm buzz radiating through his skin. He paused for a moment, needing to relish every second it felt to be now pressed so deep inside you. The softness of your skin, delicate cues of pleasure washing over your face, how your warm walls enveloped his cock.

You moaned as he pushed more of his length inside your needy warmth, tears beginning to well up in the corner of your eyes. Pleasure and slight pain blurred, the tip of his cock almost pressed against your soft cervix and a rouse of heat traveling up your spine.

His hands gripped the globes of your ass to adjust his leverage, slowly but deliberately digging his hips against yours with each thrust. His body was achingly ready, alive with frantic urge. He was incapable of any pretty words to whisper, tangled groans replacing his usual velvet tongue.

As he pounded quicker into your warmth, your pulsating soft walls sucked his cock tighter and deeper with each buckle. He nestled his head into the nape of your neck. Sweat formed on his pale forehead as he wrestled with his restraint, his cock stroking in and out, hitting pleasure points you never knew existed and relishing in your shameless cries – desperate for him.

Soft, warm pleasure unraveled across you in hot waves. If you had the mind, you could only hope that no one could hear you two – the sounds and wet smacks of his skin colliding against yours – but all you could do was turn your pleasured cries and whimpers into soundless gasps.

Your lips parted, hips bucking before your back arched from the ground. Every fiber of your body attempted to get closer to him, and his to you. Of some act of grace, your hand caressed his face, lifting him to face yours.

Oh, how he wanted to melt right there.

Eager eyes met each other, brows furrowing together into a soft, tender stare. Astarion’s hips began to buck erratically for a moment as he struggled to regain his resolve. Once steadied, he continued to bury deeper into you in every perfect way. You were clenched so tightly, so divinely around him while his name trickled as a whisper from your lips.

“You – fuck .. “ you couldn’t be bothered to form a proper sentence, every whim of comprehension overwhelmed by new heights of white pleasure. You were lulled into a stupor, and his grip tightened at your garbled pleas.

“Thaaat’s it,” Astarion practically begged, voice ragged, his eyes never leaving your beautiful face as it twisted with sweet expressions. An eagerness gnawed inside him, to push you to the edge of your pleasures. You were so perfect while you cried his name, taking all of him so well.

“Come for me, sweet girl –” Hushed and delicate was his tone, only causing you to surrender any inhibition.

Heat wound tightly in your abdomen, lashes wet with the tears trailing down your warm face. Every nerve was wound so tight, finally snapping into a rush of white hot pleasure that left your skin flushed and tingling. You tried to whine out his name, but it spilled out into broken gasps as you reached your fingers to grip his silver curls.

His hips began to stagger, riding out your pleasure until he could no longer postpone the succumb to pleasure. They lost their rhythm, and a low moan rumbled from his throat as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of your tightening walls, pressing into you.

You could feel his cock throbbing in you, as your nerves are slow to fizzle from the glowing buzz, and it swelled. Your slick walls were overstimulated nearly by his desperate, choppy thrusts before a cry escapes his lips – his cum flooded into you, thick and hot. He felt waves of warmth, so real and alive. So helplessly right.

The air was silent, as you both collected your breaths in hurried gasps. Astarion peeled his weight off of you only to roll onto his back, by your side. Your body felt light and completely slack, almost boneless as you sunk into the earth underneath you. Aftershocks of pleasure still rippled throughout your nerves.

Both of you laid sweaty, flushed, exhausted, lacking the energy to care. You broke the silence with a wobble in your voice.

“Fuck, you came inside me..” you stated the obvious, reeling from pulsing nerves and vision hazy.

“I’m sure the druids have something that’ll take care of that..” Astarion said breathlessly, extending an arm to wipe the sweat glistening off his forehead.

He waited for a quiet laugh or a retort, but neither came.

Turning his head, he was met with the vision of your exhausted figure fast asleep. Slowly your chest rose and fell, face at ease – a vulnerability he had only seen when you were in deep sleep, if you weren't tossing and turning.

The quiet sat with him while he attempted to gather his thoughts, his experience. He had seen an entirely different side of you – exposed delicate. Part of his conscience pooled with guilt.

He had a plan. A nice simple plan. It wasn’t foreign to casually bed strangers, seducing and manipulating them into following his every whim. Hells, this had been routine for two hundred years . The count was lost on how many nights he spent using people like ragdolls, only to be lured back into the hands of Cazador.

Astarion returned his gaze to the stars glistening above, attempting his best at reducing it to the odd circumstances or perhaps he was simply out of practice.

Regardless – even if it was more than a fluke – he had already fucked things up. The thought felt tainted now, uneasy and riddled with remorse.

Little did he know that evening, that was the beginning of his plan crumbling apart.

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satoshi-mochida · 6 months

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Cupid Parasite: Sweet & Spicy Darling coming west in 2024

Gematsu Source

Idea Factory International will release otome visual novel Cupid Parasite: Sweet & Spicy Darling for Switch in 2024 in the west, the publisher announced.

Cupid Parasite: Sweet & Spicy Darling will launch first in Japan on November 30.

Here is an overview of the game, via Idea Factory International:

About

While working for a major marriage agency named Cupid Corporation, Cupid the goddess of love herself, strived to become the top bridal advisor. She was assigned five hopeless clients known as the Parasite 5! Even after guiding them through mock dates, matchmaking seminars, and the reality show “Parasite House,” all five abruptly canceled their memberships! Yet their departures brought all their personal challenges to the surface. As she confronted these issues with them, they overcame many unexpected obstacles… And she fell in love with “him.” This is the continued love story of the goddess of love, Cupid, experiencing love firsthand. It’s the tale of when she becomes a goddess “only” for him. Marriage wasn’t the end goal, but the start of a new chapter. Whether they began dating or got married, the only thing awaiting them is a series of unexpected challenges! A mysterious new creature has appeared in Los York! Could it be a divine message or evidence of an unknown civilization? A love story so sweet, it’ll make your heart melt! The whirlwind of feelings taking the world by storm is far from over! An endearing, joyful, and chaotic tale that’s richer and more exhilarating than ever! This romance featuring a former goddess is so sweet and spicy, it’ll make your teeth ache and set your soul ablaze! And in Merenice Levin’s route, her days as Cupid are far from over! A romantic and comedic story in the world of matchmaking is set to unfold!

Key Features

Sweeter and Spicier! – Return to Los York with the original cast of Cupid Parasite, plus an all new-character Merenice Levin. Rendezvous with seven of the sweetest and spiciest bachelors in up to three game modes and unlock over 80 CGs, including some that may be too hot to handle!

All Different Flavors to Choose From – Pick from three different modes that can satiate anyone with a sweet tooth. Select “After Drama” mode to follow-up with the original Parasite 6 and pick up from where you last left off. Go with “New Parasite” mode for a chance to experience Merenice Levin’s perspective of the events that take place after the common route of Cupid Parasite. You can also explore routes you unlocked in “Bonus Episode” mode for six bonus episodes with their own unlockable CGs!

In Sweetness and In Spiciness?! – You must choose the flavor of the next course. Will you go with the sweet? Or will you go with the spicy? When prompted with the choice during gameplay, select between sweet or spicy to impact the ending of your selected route. Manage to balance the flavors for a chance at something really appetizing.

Rich, Decadent Visuals and Savory Scenarios – The original scenario writer and illustrator of Cupid Parasite return! Ririka Yoshimura (scenario writer) and Yuuya (illustrator) join forces once again to bring fans a delectable addition to the Cupid Parasite universe.

Watch a teaser trailer below. View a set of screenshots at the gallery. Visit the official website here.

Teaser Trailer

youtube

#Cupid Parasite: Sweet & Spicy Darling #Cupid Parasite #Idea Factory #Idea Factory International #otome game #visual novel #Gematsu #Youtube

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fillinforlater · 6 months

Note

It’s that time of the year again. What are some of your favorite smuts released in 2023?

Monday of Appreciation: Part 104

Hello everyone, Smite here!

2023 is coming to a close and it's been quite the year, a mixture of "this is a bridge year for greater things to come" and "WE LIVIN' NOW MF!" What is a bit different this year is that the highs weren't as high and the lows weren't as low compared to previous years---maybe that is just me getting older, maybe it's hindsight. Either way, I'm good and this year was good.

But some things are more than just good. I'm of course talking about these writers and their stories that I have featured today. All of them deserve special mention, but I want to focus on two of them specifically.

In a year of great, fantastic and already legendary fics, these two stand out.

Without further ado, let's dive into the final MoA of this year:

-1-

@fanfiction4sooya: Can't Save You Now ft. Chaewon, Kazuha, Sakura

I- I- I just read the damn tags and new I one day had to give this a shot. ff4sooya has crazy ideas, futa galore, different dynamics and kinks, which is SO MY THING. This has Mommy and Daddy involved in an absurd (and absurdly hot) threesome that I couldn't take my eyes off.

Now I definitely need to read more and you should too because I bet there are a bunch of Masterpieces in that long Masterlist!

-2-

@iznsfw: Drunken ft. Olivia Hye

Is it really a Monday of Appreciation post without IZ?

Seriously, what this genius is able to cook up in a commission or in the currently ongoing (HYPE) IZ DAYS OF CHRISTMAS is absolutely incredible. We have long stories with in depth characters and love drama that ends not only smuttily but sweetly. Who the fuck needs books, when you can just binge IZ?

With "Drunken", they have once again hit it out of the FUCKIING park. There is never enough Daddy kink fics, yes, but mine seem like nonsensical cringe porn compared to this beauty of a piece. I love how it plays with my heart, no I'm not crying---okay, now that is hot.

Let me change that: there is three very fucking special stories today!

(I think this might even be better than Levi's Hyeju, wtf)

-3-

@cataboliac: Enkindle ft. Wendy

Firstly: I LOVE YOU CATA, BIG QT!

Secondly: "Enkindle" feels a bit like coming home, like a day in Paradise, like the one person that shines so bright in your life that you don't want it to go. And you know, that is the great thing: this might be Cata's final fic, the farewell, but not only is his life gonna be great and he'll be super happy - we also get to read this again and again, and I'm sure I will one day.

Thank you, Cata, for hanging around!

Thirdly: I'M GONNA KISS YOU, CATA!

-4-

@writerpeach: Delectation ft. Wonyoung, Yujin

1.000 Notes, and it's still not enough for what is my pick for fic of the year (FOTY? FOOTY? There is a scene like that, yep). IZ*ONE truly never dies, but it is IVE and these absolute super stars, bomb shells with flawless faces and different, yet irresistible bodies that have us in a frenzy.

Talking about frenzy, all those 30,699 words are a frenzy. I thought Peach would set it up with a long and painful tease that has us edging the entire time BUT NOPE this has so much fucking smut, so many lines of neediness and horniness, it is impossible to finish in one try or two tries or... I dunno, seven-hundred tries?

It's detailed, it's straight forward, it's sex from every fucking angle, I can never get tired of this. I will go so far and say this is Peach's magnum opus, the GOAT fic by the GOAT writer. At least for that day, I can say this without a doubt.

Peach, you are crazy and thank you for that <3

#PeachPavedTheWay #AnnyeongzForDaddy

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #ive smut #izone smut #male reader insert #male reader #idol x idol smut #red velvet smut #wendy smut #loona smut #loosemble smut #olivia hye smut #hyeju smut #wonyoung smut #chaewon smut #yujin smut #sakura smut #le sserafim kazuha smut

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svn-bangtan · 11 months

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Seven (Clean version?)

»pairing: Idol!Jungkook x reader

»genre: BTS | 13+ | Fluff

»wc/date: 3.1k | July 2023

» warnings: Based on Seven music video? Mentions of smut? Jungkook being Jungkook.

»Summary: After ending her 7 year relationship Y/n shares that her breakup with Jungkook was partially due to his unrealistic desire for sex seven days a week. If that wasn’t enough, Y/n seemingly keeps seeing Jungkook everywhere. Just know a lot has happened in the seven days they have been apart

» notes: I was thinking about making an explicit version of this, but haven’t decided if I should, so you all should let me know.

» m.list | Taglist | Thoughts? Comments? Concerns

Seoul's bustling city lights painted a vivid canvas as Y/n and Jimin sat in a secret and quiet area of their favorite restaurant, savoring the delectable flavors of their homeland. The aroma of sizzling Korean delicacies filled the air, adding to the festive atmosphere of the lively eatery.

Jimin couldn't resist his playful nature, and as he took a sip of his tea, he asked with a mischievous grin, "Okay, so let me get this straight, you broke up last week with Jungkook because he wants to fuck you right seven days a week?" His laughter was infectious, causing Y/n to sigh in defeat.

"Seriously, Jimin? Is that all you think about?" Y/n rolled her eyes playfully, unable to hold back a smile. "Yes, that's one of the reasons, but it's not the only one. Our physical relationship became overwhelming, and I didn't expect that to be such a challenge in our relationship."

Jimin couldn't stop laughing, imagining poor Jungkook keeping track of his seven-day schedule. "I can't even imagine! How does he have that much energy? Is he secretly training for the Olympics?"

Y/n chuckled, playing along with Jimin's comedic flair. "You should know, you used to live with him! Maybe he's been doing some intense stamina training behind my back."

Jimin laughed heartily, "Oh, Y/n, you always have the most interesting stories. Who would've thought that 'too much love' could be an issue?"

"Do you think I'm being silly?" Y/n asked, her tone more serious.

Jimin reached out and patted his friend's hand reassuringly. "Not at all! Relationships are complicated, and each one is unique. What matters is how you feel and what you need. Relationships should have a healthy balance of emotional and physical connection. Maybe he didn't fully understand how exhausting it was for you."

"Do you think so?" Y/n asked, hoping for some insight from his ever-entertaining friend.

Jimin nodded thoughtfully. "Well, you know how guys can sometimes get carried away by their 'manly urges.' Perhaps he thought he was auditioning for a K-drama series titled 'Seven Nights of Passion.'"

Y/n couldn't help but giggle at the mental image. "Okay, that's enough pun-ishment for me."

Jimin grinned. "Deal! But in all seriousness, communication is key. Have an open and honest conversation with him about how you feel. If he truly cares about you, he'll understand and find a way to meet you halfway."

Y/n nodded, feeling grateful for his friend's support. "You're right, Jimin. It's time for a serious heart-to-heart. No puns, no innuendos, just a genuine conversation about our needs and expectations."

Jimin raised an eyebrow playfully. "Wait, no puns? Are you sure you're not pun-ishing me too harshly?"

Y/n laughed, rolling her eyes in mock annoyance. "Okay, just one pun. But only if you promise to be serious when I need it."

With a grin, Jimin encouraged Y/n to continue, "Anyways, tell me more, spill the spicy details!"

"Well," Y/n began, "ever since we decided to take a break, I swear I've been seeing Jungkook everywhere. It's like he's haunting me or something."

Jimin raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Everywhere? Like how?"

Y/n nodded, looking a bit flustered. "Well..."

Y/n sat on the train, her earphones on, listening to her favorite K-pop playlist. The rhythmic beats tried to drown out her thoughts, but memories of Jungkook kept resurfacing. She leaned her head against the window, feeling a mix of emotions from nostalgia to frustration.

As the train pulled to a stop at a station, Y/n glanced up from her reverie and caught a glimpse of something that made her heart skip a beat. There, just outside the window, hanging onto the train was Jungkook, his signature smile plastered on his face. He waved enthusiastically, trying to get her attention.

Y/n blinked, thinking she must be imagining things again. "No way," she mumbled to herself, her eyes widening as she looked again. "This can't be real."

But there he was, unmistakably Jungkook, waving like a happy kid. A shiver ran down Y/n's spine, and she decided to pull out her earphones to make sure she wasn't hearing things too.

The music stopped, and the train's ambient noises filled the void. Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she stared at Jungkook outside the train. "What on earth is going on?" she whispered, her mind racing with disbelief.

She leaned back in her seat, trying to gather her thoughts, hoping that this was all a bizarre coincidence. "Okay, breathe, Y/n. It's probably just someone who looks like him," she said, attempting to reassure herself.

Summoning the courage to face the possibility, Y/n looked up once more, and her jaw dropped. Jungkook was still there, hanging on the outside of the train, waving even more enthusiastically now.

"Y/n, are you alright?" a concerned voice asked from the seat next to her.

She turned to find an elderly woman looking at her with worry in her eyes. "I, uh, I think I just saw someone I know outside the train," Y/n stammered, trying to make sense of it all.

The woman chuckled kindly. "Oh, dear. Must be your mind playing tricks on you. Don't worry too much about it."

Nodding, Y/n closed her eyes, trying to compose herself. "You're right. Maybe I need some sleep or something."

When she opened her eyes again and looked outside, Jungkook was gone. The train had already left the station, and there was no sign of him anywhere.

"Y/n, are you sure you're okay?" the woman asked again, genuine concern in her voice.

Y/n managed a weak smile. "I think I will be. Thank you for checking on me."

Jimin chuckled, "That's your mind playing tricks on you, Y/n. It's common after a breakup to see the person you were with in random places."

"It sounds ridiculous, I know!" Y/n chuckled, "But wait, there's more. Another time, when I was walking home in the afternoon, I swear I saw him lying lifeless in the middle of the street. But when the paramedics came, he suddenly got up and chased after me with flowers!"

Jimin couldn't contain his laughter, "This is better than a K-drama! You should write a romantic comedy based on your experiences! Or, you know, since Jungkook is part of the biggest group in the world, not to brag, this could make a very good music video."

Y/n chuckled, "You got jokes Jimin, I know it sounds crazy! But wait, there's more. One stormy night, I was walking home, and he was once again following me, and as the wind picked up, he flew away!"

Jimin's eyes widened with amusement, "Y/n, you've got quite the imagination! Flying ex-boyfriends are a new one for me!"

"And it doesn't end there, I also dreamt of going to his funeral," Y/n continued, "and he wasn't even dead! He used it as an opportunity to finally talk to me. Can you believe it?"

Jimin burst into laughter again, "You are one crazy dreamer, my friend!"

Y/n couldn't help but laugh along with Jimin. "I know, it's ridiculous! I must be losing my mind."

Jimin placed a comforting hand on Y/n's shoulder. "You're not losing your mind, Y/n. Breakups can mess with your emotions and make you see things differently. But you know what? Maybe all these wild experiences are just a way for your subconscious to process the breakup and your feelings for Jungkook."

"Do you think so?" Y/n asked, feeling a bit more reassured.

"Absolutely!" Jimin exclaimed. "But remember, you need to talk to Jungkook honestly about how you feel. Maybe he's been trying to reach out to you and make things right."

Y/n nodded, "You're right, Jimin. I can't keep avoiding him forever. We need to have a sit-down conversation."

Jimin smiled, "That's the spirit! You've got this, Y/n. And no more flying ex-boyfriends, okay?"

Y/n laughed, "Deal! No more wild imaginings. Just a simple, honest conversation."

Its Wednesday, and like always the laundromat was bustling with customers, and Y/n found herself in the midst of the chaos, trying to navigate her way through the maze of washing machines. Clutching her laundry basket, she sighed, wondering if she would ever get her laundry done in peace.

Little did she know that lurking behind her, sitting nonchalantly on top of some washing machines, was none other than Jungkook, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. He watched her intently, ready to seize any opportunity to talk to her.

As Y/n moved to the next row of washing machines, Jungkook stealthily followed, trying to get her attention. "Y/n, please, just talk to me! You love when I jump right in, I'm offering all of me and I can show you what devotion is, " he implored with puppy dog eyes.

Ignoring him, Y/n pretended not to notice and continued sorting her laundry. She hoped that he would get the message and leave her alone, but Jungkook seemed persistent.

"You wrap around me and you give me life" he insisted, stepping closer to her, "And that's why night after night, I'll be fucking' you right!"

Y/n's patience was wearing thin, and the laundromat's chaos was only adding to her stress. She tried to maintain her cool, but Jungkook's continuous pestering was getting under her skin.

As they stood across from each other, the unthinkable happened – the laundromat started to flood! At first, Y/n didn't pay much attention to it, thinking it was just a minor issue with the machines. But as the water reached ankle-deep, she realized something was seriously wrong.

"Oh great, just what I needed," Y/n muttered, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of the situation.

But Jungkook continued to love-bomb her, completely oblivious to the fact that they were now standing in knee-deep water. "We can have the most amazing time together!"

The situation was becoming absurd, and Y/n couldn't believe Jungkook's persistence. As they continued to stand across from each other, the water in the laundromat started to rise steadily.

"I can leave you with an afterglow if you just let me." Jungkook pleaded, seemingly oblivious to the rising water.

"Do you not see what's happening?" Y/n exclaimed, gesturing to the water around them. "The place is flooding, and all you can think about is getting back together?"

Jungkook smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "I guess I got carried away with my feelings."

"Do you always have to make everything about you?" Y/n snapped, frustration boiling over. "I need space to think, and you're not making it easy."

As the water reached their knees, Jungkook's determination didn't waver. "I'll do anything to make you happy, Y/n. Just tell me what you want, and I'll do it."

"Do you really think you can fix everything with just words?" Y/n said, shaking her head. "Actions speak louder, you know."

The water continued to rise, reaching their chests now. Y/n couldn't believe the absurdity of the situation. "This is insane. I can't believe I'm standing here, having this conversation with you while we're both drenched!"

Jungkook seemed undeterred by the flood, still trying to get closer to Y/n. "I love you, Y/n, and I'll do anything to prove it."

"Do you even hear yourself?" she exclaimed, exasperated. "This is not romantic; it's just ridiculous."

As the water continued to rise, Y/n decided she'd had enough. Without any warning, she took a deep breath and dived underwater, trying to escape Jungkook's relentless pursuit. To her surprise, Jungkook followed suit, diving after her like a determined swimmer.

Y/n emerged from underneath the water of the flooded laundromat, gasping for breath as she coughed up water. She looked around, expecting to see Jungkook still pursuing her with that playful grin on his face, but to her surprise, there was no trace of him anywhere.

"Did he finally give up?" she wondered aloud, scanning the area. The water had risen considerably, and the laundromat was now a watery mess. Customers were evacuating, and staff members were rushing to address the flooding.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Y/n decided it was time to leave. She waded through the water, heading towards the exit. As she stepped out onto the street, she glanced back at the laundromat one last time, half-expecting Jungkook to pop out from behind a machine or splash around in the water.

But there was still no sign of him.

"What is going on?" She asks herself. Shrugging off her doubts, Y/n decided to focus on more pressing matters – like finding a dry place to change out of her soaking-wet clothes

As the rain poured down on the darkened streets, Y/n walked with a heavy heart, her clothes drenched from the unexpected downpour. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, and she couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and amusement at the reason behind her breakup with Jungkook. Who would've thought that their love would be tested by something as absurd as seven-day-a-week intimacy?

As she trudged along, she heard faint footsteps behind her, and when she turned around, she half-expected to see Jungkook standing there, his smile cheeky as ever. But the street was empty, and she sighed, "Great, now I'm even imagining Jungkook in the rain. I'm officially losing it."

But the footsteps persisted, and to her utter surprise, when she turned back around, there he was – Jungkook, looking as soaked and bedraggled as she felt. He was panting slightly from running to catch up with her.

"Y/n!" Jungkook exclaimed between breaths, "I knew I'd find you. I can't let you walk home alone in this rain."

She blinked in disbelief, unsure if she was hallucinating or not. "You followed me in the rain to apologize for the whole seven-days-a-week thing?"

Jungkook nodded earnestly, water dripping from his hair. "Yes, I need to talk to you. I realized how ridiculous and unfair it was of me to expect that from you. I'm sorry, Y/n."

"Do you have any idea how silly that whole thing was?" she asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Jungkook's eyes widened, and he chuckled, "Yeah, I know. It sounds absurd now that I think about it."

"Do you have any idea how tired I would be if we actually attempted that?" Y/n continued, unable to suppress her laughter any longer.

Jungkook grinned sheepishly, "Yeah, it would've been impossible, huh?"

"Absolutely!" she replied, her laughter ringing in the rain-soaked air. "I mean, did you think we were training for an Olympic event or something?"

"I guess I got carried away with my 'manly urges,'" Jungkook admitted with a playful shrug.

Y/n shook her head in amusement, "Well, lesson learned, I hope. Next time, let's not turn our relationship into a K-drama plot."

"I promise," Jungkook said, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. "I won't let something so silly come between us again."

"Do you really expect me to take you back after all this?" she teased, enjoying the moment of lightheartedness.

Jungkook stepped closer, raindrops creating a misty barrier between them. "Yes, I do. Because I realized that I love you, Y/n. And not just for seven days a week, but every single day, no matter the weather."

Her heart fluttered at his words, and she couldn't help but be charmed by his determination and genuine remorse. "You're lucky I have a soft spot for silly boys like you," she said, her lips curling into a playful smile.

"Then does that mean you'll take me back?" Jungkook asked, hope evident in his eyes.

Y/n pretended to ponder for a moment, then stuck out her hand. "Well, since you're already soaked and looking like a lost puppy, I suppose you can walk me home."

Jungkook's face broke into a wide grin as he took her hand, interlocking their fingers. "Deal! And I promise no more crazy demands, just a whole lot of love and laughter."

As they walked side by side in the rain, laughter and joyous banter filling the air, Jungkook couldn't help himself but playfully sing, "I'll be loving you right, seven days a week. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday."

"That would be a catchy song," Jungkook remarked, looking pleased with himself.

Y/n's eyes sparkled mischievously as she recalled her conversation with Jimin earlier. "You know," she said, "if you ever decide to make a music video for that song, I have a fun plot idea."

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh, really? Do tell."

"Well," Y/n began, "imagine this – a guy who's obsessed with the idea of love seven days a week. He tries to make his partner happy with grand gestures, but it's all a bit much for her. She's tired and overwhelmed, just like I was. And the guy, played by you, keeps popping up everywhere she goes, just like you did in my crazy imaginings."

Jungkook laughed, "So, basically a music video version of our ridiculous situation?"

"Exactly!" Y/n grinned. "It would be comedic and lighthearted, showing that love can be wonderful and fun but also overwhelming if taken to the extreme."

"I love it," Jungkook said, nodding appreciatively. "And you know what? We could even do an explicit version of the song, where I say 'fucking' instead of 'loving,' just to make it a clear representation of what we just went through."

Y/n burst into laughter, covering her mouth in amusement. "Oh, Jungkook! Only you would come up with such an idea. It's genius and utterly ridiculous at the same time."

He winked at her, "That's what I do best."

Y/n looked at him, an amused glint in her eyes, and asked, "Were you there on Wednesday at the laundromat when it flooded?"

Jungkook looked confused, "What? No, I wasn't."

With a grin, Y/n confessed, "After we separated, I started seeing you in the most weird situations, like at the laundromat, and I thought I was losing my mind."

Jungkook burst into laughter, "Really? I would love to hear about all the places you found me!"

As they continued their walk in the rain, they couldn't help but be grateful for the silliness and laughter that had brought them back together. The idea of a music video, even if it was just in jest, gave them a sense of comfort and closure.

"I'm glad we can laugh about it now," Y/n said, looking at Jungkook fondly. "It shows how much we've grown together and how we can handle anything that comes our way."

Jungkook smiled warmly, pulling her closer as they walked back home.

#jeon jungguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #bangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts #bts fic #jungguk smut #jungguk x reader #jungkook x you #Jungkook #seven jungkook

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oskea93 · 2 months

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✶ Whiskey (1) ✶ - John "Bucky" Egan x OC - Masters of the Air fandom - Multi-chaptered story.

⚠ Warning: Rating 18+ ⚠ This story will contain explicit sexual content, mentions of unwanted pregnancy/miscarriage, cursing, violence, spousal abuse. Please read at your own discretion/risk. This story is a work of fiction and simply based on the portrayal of the actors on the show. It has nothing to do with any of the real men that these actors are playing. A/N: Hello all! So, this is my second Bucky story and to say i'm a bit obsessed would be an understatement. There's just something about the way Callum Turner plays him that is... I don't even know if I have the right word to describe it. I posted a couple days ago about my idea for this fic and i've finally narrowed down my choice The OC for this story will be the new Colonel's wife at Thorp Abbotts and of course drama will ensue. I just want to point out that since this story is so heavily smut driven, i'm sorry if my writing of smut is not that great. I've never written a fic so centered on it before, so this is a bit new. If you have any suggestions or comments, just let me know! Lastly, I just want to thank everyone that's read It Had to be You. I greatly appreciate each and every one of you! If you would like to be added to the tag list, just comment your username ☺︎

Heavy breathing filled the darkened space as the distant sound of the bombs could be heard exploding on the outskirts of town. Both of us too lost in one another to care of the threat that could be dropped onto the city at any minute.

His arms wrapped tightly around my thighs, holding me down on the bed as his tongue lit a fire through my body. The whimpers slipping past my lips – begging him for mercy – our eyes meeting as he flattened his tongue against my core. My hands pulling at his messy locks, pulling as the pressure intensified as he sucked my clit.

“Oh, fuck – “ I tried pulling away – my heels digging into the mattress below.

The pleasure was something I had never felt before – my heart beating erratically as he smiled at the state I was in. “John, please.” My legs closing around his head as my walls clenched, sending me into a state of pure bliss.

My dam quickly opened, the floodgates soaking the linen sheet below as he stayed in the same position admiring his work. His hold on my legs loosened, giving me the opportunity to quickly move into a sitting position, pulling his lips onto mine. My taste on his tongue sending me into a primal state as he pulled me into his lap, the pressure building in my stomach as I take all of him, moans building in both of our throats.

“Holy fuck – “ He cursed against my lips as our hips moved in sync. The new position sending us both into an utter state of delectation.

Bruises were sure to form as his fingers dug into my hips, pulling my body harder into his as I felt him swell inside of me. His hot breath hitting my ear as my teeth pulled at his neck, no doubt to leave a noticeable mark in the morning. The friction between us was so strong as we started to reach our climax – our ragged breathing and moans probably heard through the thin walls.

My body fell limp against his as we recovered from our high – his soft lips placing butterfly kisses behind my ear.

“Pretty good, huh?” He smirked against the skin – taking my earlobe between his teeth.

I whimpered in reply – too tired but still too turned on to speak to him in a complete sentence. Talking was what got me into this position – into his rented bed – into his arms and underneath his masculine body as he made me his own...

I was the first to wake the next afternoon – my legs acting like that of a newborn fawn as I stumbled towards the bathroom. I glanced at the mangled bed as I closed the door behind me – his body barely covered by the thin sheet. “Lord, give me strength.” Whispering to myself as I looked in the mirror. My red curls in disarray – red lipstick smeared around my bruised lips. The markings he had left littered my body – small and large – thankfully low enough to be covered from the public eye. The memories of last night replaying in my mind like an old Nickelodeon – heat pooling in my stomach at the thoughts of how he made me feel – over and over – all night long.

My fingers gripping the sink as the feeling of his lips danced across my skin. His teeth pulling as he moved along my shoulder blades – his arms wrapping around my middle.

“You’re thinking too hard.” His morning voice hinting at a rasp, causing my core to throb with want and need.

The temptation to reach back and connect my lips with his was damn near impossible – my knuckles turning white as my grip on the cast-iron intensified.

“I have to go.”

The words slipping out between low moans. His hold pulling me flush against his bare body – his cock twitching against my lower back. I knew that if I turned around in that moment, I wouldn’t be able to tear myself away from him – from his kiss – from his Goddamn touch.

His nose nuzzled in my hair as his hand moved tantalizingly down my stomach, stopping just above the point of no return. “And if I want you to stay?”

I squirmed uncomfortably, rubbing my legs together, already wet just from his proximity.

“If you tell me to stop –“His index slowly moving over my slit. “I’ll quit and you can go on your merry way.” I leaned my head back against his shoulder as he added the middle finger, making slow strides as he hummed against my outstretched neck.

“You’re killing me.” My words slurring together.

He smiled against my skin as his pace increased. A slew of curse words flowed through my lips, his own finally meeting mine in a heated and much needed kiss. My arm laced around his neck, pressing our faces harder together as his fingers continued their assault. I felt like I was on the verge of fainting – dropping dead from the euphoria that was coursing through my exhausted body.

My body reacted to his touch seconds later – the sticky substance running down my legs as he removed his digits. Our bodies still pressed together – both breathing as if we’d just ran a mile.

“John – “

His hooded eyes casting down as he hummed in response. I paused for a moment, my brain and heart arguing for dominance.

“Take me to bed.”

#john egan #john egan smut #callum turner major john bucky egan #john egan x reader #john egan fanfiction #john egan x oc #callum turner x reader #callum turner smut #callum turner imagine #callum turner #masters of the air fanfiction #masters of the air #masters of the air imagine #bucky egan x oc #bucky egan #john bucky egan #bucky egan fanfiction #bucky egan x reader #bucky egan smut

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salchat · 8 months

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I've been experimenting with graphite on canvas. Here is the resulting picture of the delectable Jensen, with my materials. I used the graphitone pencil first to sketch it out roughly, then smeared if with my finger dipped in water to make nice shadows. Then I used the graphite sketching pencil and the tinted graphite to get more detail and depth. Then I used the hard pastels for coloured highlights and skintone. Pastel doesn't mix that well with graphite, but oh well... Then I used the really dark graphite stick to make the background more dramatic and to emphasise some bits of his face. Then I used the little HB stick of graphite to get sharper lines around his profile and hair.

And here is the finished portrait, corrected for poor lighting and the way my phone washes everything out!

It was a lovely angle, but really tricky. I've kind of captured it. I like the drama. As usual, I should have analysed the structure more. But I just wanted to stick my fingers in the graphite and get messy. And there's nothing wrong with that.

Oh, and the final essential was my playlist of wall-to-wall Led Zeppelin.

#fanart #jensen ackles #jackles #portrait #graphite

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theminecraftbee · 6 months

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secret life spoilers (??) but i just came from cleos most recent episode and it was a delectable hour of juicy drama

i love how many people are coming directly to me from cleo's episode. "how you feeling second?" (swarm of bees yelling continuously about cleo.) "yeah that's about what i thought."

#answered #secret life spoilers #<- implied

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qcswrites · 9 months

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Sowing the Seeds of Love - Part II: Full Bloom

Read Part I - Budding Love HERE :)

Synopsis: Burdened by his duties from a young age, Neteyam had little time to partake in the joys of youthful romance, his only release being fleeting moments of intimacy with various females. His longing for a more passionate affair had begun with a burning desire to have you. But you never saw him.

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya Reader

Content: Romance, Fluff, Drama, Angst, Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI

Word count: 10k

Author's note: Hello, friends! I'm back! This took longer than planned but it's a little longer than the first chapter so I hope that helps :) It's Neteyam's POV before/during/after the events of Part I. P.S. there's a tiny B99 reference somewhere in here. If you happen to catch it, we could be friends haha hope you enjoy!

I hope I haven't missed anyone but thank you all for enjoying my work :) @vivid-ink @ntymavtr @swaggygurlbae @vintaqestar @mahalkomarvel @riatesullironalite @luvteyams @investedreader

Also on AO3: Full Bloom

Your hair was arranged prettily atop your head, flowers tucked carefully into it, peeking out from behind the pointed tips of your ears. You were stunning. For many months now, Neteyam had burned for you, with the closeness of your families morphing into a slow form of torture. Night after night, he had sat across from you, forced to sate his desires with only the proximity of your delectable scent.

“Neteyam.” Your voice startled him out of his reverie.

“Yes?”

“Some more stew?” You offered, blinking up at him innocently, holding a bowl of yerik stew.

“Ah.” He accepted the bowl easily, shivering ever so slightly when his fingertips grazed yours during the exchange. He rarely spoke to you, though it was not for lack of interest. Clearly. In truth, he found himself severely lacking in nerve when it came to approaching you outside of the meals you shared with his family. Some mighty warrior he was.

He had grown up alongside you, a natural consequence of your parents’ long-standing friendship. Yet, he had never quite managed the closeness that you shared with his brother. Much of his youth had been spent training and learning the ways of the future leadership of the clan, and he had always eschewed notions of romance, his only release being fleeting moments of intimacy with various females.

Though your paths rarely crossed in the daytimes, he had harboured a quiet affection for you. Fondness would come to him, unbidden, as he watched you patiently care for Txep and treat the injured when he visited his grandmother in the healer’s alcove.

Only in the last while, his fondness had morphed into something more. It had become an ache that left his heart racing in the daytimes and skin slick with perspiration in the nights as titillating images of you flashed through his mind more frequently than he’d care to admit.

But you never saw him. Neteyam had wondered many times in the moons past whether you could feel his burning gaze on you, eventually coming to the bitter conclusion that his newfound desires went completely unnoticed. It seemed inconceivable for his world to have shifted on its axis the way it had and for yours to have remained the same. But that was the reality….

Neteyam let himself indulge in a moment of weakness then, allowing himself the pleasure of thinking that it had been his face you had imagined as you adorned your hair with pretty flowers earlier that evening. But it was a lie. Those flowers were not for him, but for the man seated next to you.

Irritation flared in his gut as he caught your gaze lingering on his brother as he laughed jovially at some joke that he had himself had missed, too caught up in lamenting the tragic state of affairs he found himself in. More maddening was the fact that Lo’ak, the skxawng, was utterly oblivious to your affections.

“Bro? You there? Hello?” Neteyam started as a hand waved in his face.

“What?”

“Dad was asking about tomorrow,” Lo’ak continued, slightly amused at his bleariness. “You know? The mission?”

“Ah,” Neteyam said, reverting to warrior-mode, momentarily forgetting his disgruntlement. “The scout party has reported some unusual activity on the edge of the settlement.”

“Could it be hostiles? His father enquired, concern colouring his expression. Though it had been years since the tawtute had been banished from their lands, deep-seated misgivings between the clans had persisted, manifesting in occasional skirmishes along territorial boundaries.

“The scout party believes so,” he answered in the affirmative, expression turning grave at the thought of what the next day would bring. Hostiles were often outcasts with limited supplies and capacity to inflict harm on their people. But, he knew better than to underestimate the tenacity of men with little left to lose.

“What’s the plan?”

“The scout party believes that they have set up camp near the waterfall. We will surround the area after dawn tomorrow and secure it.” Neteyam continued, quietly relieved for the distraction from his own inner turmoil.

“They’ll put up a fight, no doubt,” added Lo’ak, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Neteyam shook his head at his brother’s cavalier attitude. Lo’ak had a proclivity for missions such as this, which were fraught with danger, finding a thrill amidst the peril. “It’s not a laughing matter, bro,” he rebuked, expression darkening at the memory. “Aran nearly lost his arm from the infection.”

Lo’ak only waved him off. “Nothing will happen,” he remarked, eyes flicking over to you as he spoke his next words. “And if it did, you’ll patch me up, won’t you?”

Neteyam turned to face you, watching as a faint blush coloured your cheeks at his words. “Of course.”

A heat brewed low in his belly at the sight, followed immediately by a wave of guilt at his own misplaced anger. He knew he was being unfair, in that you knew nothing of his feelings for you, let alone returned them.

He loved his brother more than life itself but in truth, he could not help but wonder why you pined after him so. Lo’ak was handsome, well-liked by the women of the clan and had his fair share of casual dalliances. You stood by and watched it all while still never wavering in your feelings for the man. If he did not feel so conflicted about the object of your affections, he would have admired your loyalty.

Your soft giggles drew his gaze back to you, where Lo’ak had since joined you, poking your side teasingly as an inside joke, no doubt, slipped past his lips. His envy reared its ugly head once more, and he found the heat in his belly returning at the cosy sight of the two of you.

Great Mother, he needed to get away.

* * *

Neteyam grunted softly as she moved rhythmically above him, fingernails digging into the skin of his chest. His hands trailed her lithe form, coming to land on her hips, guiding her movements. Closing his eyes, he relished in the pleasure he gleaned from the friction between their bodies.

He had been seeing Nimira quietly for months now. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, a quick release in the woods after evening patrol. But somehow, all these months later, he found himself pinned underneath the familiar weight of her as she rocked desperately against him, desperate for release.

She was close, he could tell from her increasingly frenzied movements. He met her movements, frustration growing as his own peak eluded him. Something was wrong. In a swift movement, he had her on her back, hand cupping the back of her head gently.

She gasped, startled at the sudden movement. “Neteyam, what—”

“Let me take care of it,” he murmured, thrusting more insistently against her. Her complaint faded into a series of breathy moans and sighs.

Soon enough, he felt the familiar feeling of his own mounting ecstasy, breath hitching and movements growing more frantic as he reached his peak. He reached down, rubbing Nimira furiously where they were joined, willing himself not to spill before she reached her peak.

In the aftermath of his pleasure, he turned over to glance at Nimira, who lay panting heavily on her back.

“I’m sorry, Nim,” he said, slightly shamefaced. “If I was too rough.”

She laughed softly, turning her body to face him. “You don’t have to apologise,” she said slowly, reaching out to run her hand gently down his arm. “It was good. Really good.”

Relief flooded him and he smiled reassuringly at her. Nimira knew of Leyna. His feelings for you were not a secret but he wondered sometimes if she would be quite so nonchalant if she knew the depth of what he felt for you. He suspected that she would not take too kindly to the sensual fantasies of you that entered his mind, unbidden, during their dalliances.

“You’re frustrated, today, Neteyam,” she said softly, breaking the comfortable post-coital silence that had fallen between them.

Caught. He froze, mind searching frantically for an innocent explanation.

“Is it the mission tomorrow?”

Relief enveloped him at her words. That was right, Nimira was also a warrior and had been assigned to join the team investigating the suspected hostile activity at the edge of the Omatikaya territory.

He nodded at her in the affirmative, hoping that had looked convincing enough.

Nimira sighed in understanding, moving closer to him. “Me too.”

“Everything will be okay,” he murmured, returning her gesture, rubbing her arm gently as he spoke.

“Aran is coming tomorrow,” she said softly, after a long pause. That was right. Aran. As fate would have it, Nimira had been nursing feelings of her own for the young warrior for many moons now, and they had bonded over their shared romantic woes.

“I know,” he comforted, sensing her anxiety. Aran had been shot in the shoulder during their last mission. While they had been relieved to hear that the arrow had failed to pierce his vital organs, their relief had been short-lived as a worrying fever had come over him, unrelenting even in the face of the array of healing brews fed to him in the weeks that followed.

“It’s too soon,” Nimira muttered, shifting closer to embrace the sturdy weight of his arm. “He’s not ready.”

“He’s a strong warrior. He wouldn’t have joined the mission if he didn’t think he could do it, Nim,” he countered gently. “He’s spent weeks now laying in the healer’s alcove, being tended to by my grandmother. She thinks he’s ready too.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I trust the tsahìk, it’s just, I—”

“Can’t help but worry?” He finished. “I know the feeling.”

Nimira smiled at his words. “Speaking of whom, how’s Leyna doing?”

A scowl came over his face, earning a soft chuckle from her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” she teased. “You’re here with me now, so I know the answer to that question.”

“Nim!”

“What?”

“You know what.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said finally, patting his cheek gently. “That was unkind.”

He shook his head. “You’re not wrong. Everything is still shit.”

“You could just talk to her, you know?” Nimira nudged his side, prompting him to face her. “You can’t be pissed at her when she doesn’t even know how you feel.”

He smiled ruefully, leaning forward until the tips of their noses brushed against each other. “You always give the best advice, Nim.”

She smiled, pulling him atop her again. “I know. Now shut up and kiss me.”

* * *

Neteyam let out a strangled hiss at the stinging sensation when Olin, one of the apprentices, applied a cleansing salve to the wound on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” muttered an apologetic Olin, turning to reach for a bottle of pxir (beer). “Have some of this, it will ease the pain.”

“There really is no need for all this,” he groused, accepting the bottle. “It’s barely a graze!”

Olin tutted. “Brother, you know as well as I do that even the smallest break in the skin can result in infection. What if the arrowhead had been laced with txum (poison)?”

The mission had been a success, save for a brief scuffle with the hostiles that had led to his injury. Neteyam longed to leave the healer’s alcove, where he had been barricaded in for the last hour, being fed various healing brews and antidotes for any dangerous contaminants on the hostiles’ weapons.

But that was not the reason for his sour mood. Neteyam let his gaze turn sideways, landing on his brother who lay in the next bed, being tended to by none other than you.

He watched with growing ire as your delicate hands rested on his abdomen, absentmindedly stroking the skin there as you waited for him to finish drinking the healing brew. That’s not even close to where he is injured, he hissed internally.

“Bro, you alright?” Lo’ak looked concerned, eyes raking over his flushed face. Turning to you, he said, “Is it a delayed reaction or something?”

“I’m fine.” Neteyam said, waving off his brother. “Just tired.”

“Leyna, look him over would you?” Lo’ak chuckled softly. “He’s a stubborn one.”

“There’s no need—” His breath caught in his throat as your hands brushed against his forehead. Great Mother, he felt like a fool.

Neteyam willed his body not to react as you poked and prodded at him. “Open your mouth.”

“W-what?”

You gazed at him curiously. “So I can check for sores?”

“Ah.” Neteyam opened his mouth obediently, eyes widening as your fingers prodded the side of his cheek gently as you checked for any signs that he had been poisoned. He had had this dream before. Similar concept, slightly different execution.

“Is something wrong?” His voice came out garbled, your fingers having not ceased their intrusion. “Have I really been poisoned?”

You shook your head slowly, removing your fingers as you spoke. “I can’t see any sores and you have not sparked a fever yet.”

“I’m to live then?”

You smiled softly. “That’s right.”

The memory of your touch lingered in his mind in the hours after. His family paid little notice to his silence at last meal, accustomed to his typically taciturn demeanour. He willed himself to give into the mundanity of the next day’s tasks, to think of anything but the soft smile you gifted him before he left the healer’s alcove that evening, the feel of your delicate hands on his face, in his mouth, which only served to inspire more sensual fantasies of you on your knees before him, bobbing back and forth on his co—there he was, doing it again.

If he had hoped that sleep would subdue his racing mind, he was sorely mistaken. An hour of tossing and turning in his hammock had done little to alleviate his, ah, predicament. He was not unfamiliar with the intricacies of sexual attraction, having partaken in casual encounters of his own. However, none of his previous experiences had bred the kind of all-consuming fixation afflicting him in the present.

Growling in frustration as sleep continued to evade him, he climbed carefully out of his hammock, padding quietly across the boughs of kelutral, descending down the spiral staircase at its centre. Landing on the forest floor with a soft thump, Neteyam scanned his surroundings, relieved to find it quiet, which was unsurprising given the late hour. He glanced down warily at his rapidly intensifying problem, deciding to move quickly through the village before he was faced with another clan member. How mortifying it would be to be found in the state he was in…the olo’eyktan’s firstborn son and second-in-command nursing a rather exuberant erection….

Seeking out a tree hollow outside the gates leading to kelutral, he sighed in relief. He had found this place many months prior after evening patrol, returning it regularly when he wished to be undisturbed. As second-in-command, he spent a considerable amount of time training with the war party and leading the hunting party. As such, most of his days were spent in stifling proximity to others. It was not that he disliked his role—he took great pride in following in his father’s footsteps—but he had admittedly always preferred solitude, having been more reserved than his siblings even as children.

Sheltered away from prying eyes now, he undid the ties of loincloth, swiftly discarding the material off to the side as he reached for the length between his legs, which had stiffened to the point of causing him pain on the walk over.

Breathing heavily, he squeezed and stroked his cock rhythmically, eyes shut tight as the pleasure coursed through him in waves. Titillating fantasies of you doing things with him, to him, flooded his mind.

You, on your hands and knees, mouth full of him, eyes meeting his coyly as you bobbed your head back and forth. The soft rounds of your breasts moving in time with your hips as you rocked above him, mouth open in pleasure…breathy moans….heavy breathing…eyes rolled back in bliss as his hips met yours….

“Argh, fuck,” he cried, bracing himself against the trunk of the tree, gasping for air as he reached his peak. Slightly shamefaced, he turned to retrieve his loincloth from where he had tossed it and refastened the ties.

Great Mother, he needed to get a grip.

* * *

You were avoiding him. He was quite certain of it now, watching as you hurried past him as he headed to the back of the alcove to wash his food mat after last meal. You did not meet his eyes but he glimpsed your stricken expression at his proximity.

Frustration stewed in his gut at the present state of affairs. It had been almost a week since your conversation in his family’s alcove and you had only returned since with your family for their weekly shared meals. Hell, he was quite certain that you had been avoiding his brother as well. It was unbearable, more so than when you did not take notice of him at all.

He had replayed that conversation in his mind a thousand times over in the days since, cringing at the indelicacy of his words and your panicked hiss at his confrontation. He had ruined everything before it even began.

Sense would dictate that he give you space to come to terms with his words and leave you be. But, the pit in his stomach had grown unbearable and he longed to clear the air between the two of you.

And that was how he found himself trudging through the thick vegetation that encircled the clearing where clan members called their ikran. He had recognised Txep’s excited squeal in the distance and knew, with certainty, that you were close.

Emerging soundlessly from behind the bush, he called out, “Going out flying?”

He caught the surprise on your face as your head whipped around at the sound of his voice. “Yes, we are. What’s it to you?”

He smiled slightly at your words in spite of their hostility. Great Mother, if you knew the things that voice did to him. “Mind if I join?”

Before you could reply, Txep squealed upon catching sight of him, turning away from Pänu and barrelling into his arms. Txep was the sweetest little one he had ever seen, and Neteyam had always had a soft spot for the boy. Txep wanted to be a warrior and always trailed after him during his morning duties. His mother had apologised profusely for the boy who was particularly adept at evading his parents to find the warrior party during their morning trainings. Neteyam had waved off the apology, happy to indulge in keeping Txep entertained. In truth, he missed when Tuk was smaller and would do the same.

He saw the conflict swirling in your eyes at his question and knew he was playing dirty as turned to the boy in his arms before adding, “Txep, can I come flying with you and Leyna?”

You had a soft spot for Txep, and he knew that there was little you could refuse him. It was one of the things he loved (loved?) most about you.

With a sigh, you nodded affirmatively. He silently cheered, disentangling himself from Txep to call his own ikran.

Waiting patiently until Txep was seated on your ikran, he called you softly, willing himself to gather the nerve to say the right thing this time.

Breathing heavily, he said finally, “I’m sorry, for the other day. I shouldn’t have said it.”

To his relief, your expression softened at his words. “It’s okay,” you began slowly. “You didn’t say anything I didn’t already know. It’s stupid, really.”

“No, it’s not stupid. He is.”

That prompted a laugh out of you, thrilling him in the process. “I didn’t know you cared. I didn’t even realise you noticed my presence. This is the longest we’ve ever spoken, you know?”

Naturally, Nim was right. “I pay you plenty of attention.” He countered cheekily. “Maybe you are the one who doesn’t notice.”

Not waiting for a response, Neteyam pulled down his ionar in a swift motion and leapt up on Tìxtur’s back, commanding him to take flight, trying and failing to stifle a laugh at your surprised exclamation.

Turning away from you, he urged Tìxtur forward, deliberately urging him to fly faster. There was a place he wanted to show you; somewhere he had never shown anyone else.

Neteyam only smiled softly at the shrill sound of Txep’s excited squeals as you urged your ikran to match his speed, pretending to not hear your questions as to where he was taking you.

The landscape shifted beneath him, trees growing more sparse as they flew. Finally, he glimpsed the familiar sight of the valley in the distance, urging his ikran to slowly descend down onto the plain.

He watched with anticipation as you landed by his side, initially too preoccupied with Txep and utterly oblivious to the marvel of your new surroundings.

Finally, you glanced up, gasping as you took in the sight of the valley, vast mountaintops on either side cradling the ground on which you stood. Neteyam watched you quietly, affection blooming in his chest at your awe. You were so beautiful. It was a thought that had come to him now a hundred different times in a hundred different ways.

“It’s beautiful here, Neteyam,” you praised, meeting his gaze. He only smiled in return, overcome by a dizzy sort of elation.

Txep was instantly transfixed by the river water, with its vivid shade of lilac, running to dip his feet in the water.

Coming to stand behind you, he whispered, “He’s the sweetest little one I’ve ever seen.”

“You should see him when sa’nok prepares teylu, pounces like a palulukan, that one.”

Neteyam laughed softly. “I don’t doubt it. Tuk was much the same when she was younger.”

Wanting to speak more privately, he led you further along the riverbank, out of earshot of Txep.

“How did you find this place?” You asked, after a brief silence.

He shook his shoulders nonchalantly, explaining his evening exploits after the completion of the day’s duties.

“So, this is where you disappear off to in the evenings, then?”

Your words caught him by surprise. You had noticed.

“I pay attention,” you added, trying and failing at nonchalance.

He smiled. “So you do.”

* * *

Neteyam watched quietly from the side as members of both clans drank and caroused in the centre of the shelter below kelutral, grooving to the tune of a rhythmic drumbeat in the background.

Members of the Tipani clan’s leadership had come for a weeklong visit, culminating in the present celebration. Neteyam had spent the past week at his father’s side, tending to their visitors and partaking in negotiations concerning the exchange of goods between the clans and other diplomatic matters.

However, it was not his fatigue from the week’s duties that kept him from joining in the dancing and merriment. His piercing gaze found its way back to a particular dancing pair, eyes narrowing further as the Tipani clan’s second-in-command, Nareyo, reached for your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his dancing form.

His fingers twitched where they held the cup of kava that he had been nursing, the increasing strength of his grip threatening to shatter it and spill its contents across his lap.

“At least give me that, if you’re not going to drink it,” a voice from his side said.

Turning at the sound, his gaze shifted to land on Nimira who was watching him, eyes twinkling with amusement at his sour expression.

“Don’t” he warned, tipping the cup back, swallowing the contents in one gulp.

“You’re being a child,” she chided, nudging his side. “Ask her for a dance.”

“Wouldn't want to take her away from Nareyo,” he said, scowling. Nareyo was slightly shorter in stature, but a striking male nonetheless. Having spent much of the last week in his company, Neteyam would grudgingly admit that the man made for good company.

“Au! They’re only dancing, not mated. You can ask her for a dance.”

“Who says she wants to dance with me?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, and you’ve been spending so much time together.”

“That’s not true, we—”

“You hardly ever ask me to meet you anymore,” Nimira continued. “I’m much less satisfied nowadays. I should know.”

“I’m sorry, Nim, I—”

“Oh would you hush! That wasn’t the point!” She hissed, pressing her hand over his mouth to silence him. “I’ve seen the two of you. She looks at you that way.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“She does.” Nimira, casting a furtive glance at you as the song came to an end. “Ask her now. Go, Neteyam.”

Nimira shoved his shoulder insistently, prodding him to stand before snatching the cup from his hands. “Go,” she mouthed, nodding at you.

Neteyam sighed. “You’re full of shit,” he mouthed back, not letting himself indulge in the possibility that you returned his feelings. Still, he made his way across the floor, approaching you just as Nareyo thanked you for dancing with him with a kiss on the back of your hand.

You smiled at the sight of him, hand slipping from Nareyo’s grasp as you turned abruptly from the other man to face him fully. Resisting the urge to preen at the action, he returned your smile.

“Leyna,” he greeted warmly, pressing a kiss of his own to your hand.

“Neteyam,” you breathed, eyes softening. “I didn’t see you earlier.”

“I, uh.” He hesitated, suddenly embarrassed by his earlier behaviour. “I was busy with something.” He paused to breathe deeply before holding out his hand in invitation. “A dance?”

You smiled brightly at him, slipping your palm into his grasp. “I’d love to.”

He pulled you closer as the music resumed, a slower, more relaxed melody this time. Gently swaying, he pulled you closer, unable to resist the prospect of being in such close proximity with you. Inhaling deeply, he appreciated the familiar sweetness of your scent.

His heart raced as you leaned into his embrace, settling your head gently against his chest as you moved together to the music. Take that, Nareyo.

“You must be exhausted,” you said, voice muffled slightly where your face rested against the skin of his chest. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

“Duty calls,” he said, shrugging his shoulders only slightly so as to not jostle you.

“Me too,” you sighed. “I’m grateful for their tsahìk’s teachings but she is a, ah, passionate woman. Like her son, actually.”

“Nareyo, huh.” He mused, feigning nonchalance.

You pulled back from him then, visibly grimacing at the mention of the Tipani clan’s successor. “He’s, uh, nice?”

“He’s a strong warrior,” Neteyam offered. Why was he defending him?

“He is,” you allowed, before adding softly, “A little forward is all.”

“Forward?”

“Would you call offering to make me his tsakarem forward?

His jaw clenched at your words. He had proposed marriage?

“Naturally, I accepted,” you continued, laughing softly as he blanched.

“Great Mother, woman,” he breathed, catching on to your teasing tone. “You scared me.”

You clicked your tongue. “Should I be hurt that you sound surprised? I was the last one in our class to complete iknimaya, you know?”

“Really?”

You hummed. “I was scared I’d pick the wrong one.”

“That’s not possible,” Neteyam argued. “The Great Mother guides you to your match.”

“Point being,” you continued. “I take too long to decide things. Ergo, no whirlwind romances.”

Duly chastised, he nodded. “Point taken.”

“Don’t tell my mother, though,” you added after a long, contemplative pause. “She misses home dearly and she would have leapt at the chance to return to take care of her grandbabies.”

Neteyam laughed. “My lips are sealed.”

Sighing softly, you resumed your spot against his chest, leaning your full weight against his body, letting him guide you through the familiar steps. Neteyam relished in the feeling of your soft curves nestled safely against him, wondering belatedly if you could sense the rapid thrum of his heart.

“Shit.” You tugged at his hand then, pulling him abruptly away from the centre of the dancefloor.

Startled, he spluttered, “Leyna, what are y—”

“Nareyo’s coming this way again,” you hissed, hurrying through the crowd of onlookers. “He’s going to ask me again if I’ve ‘reconsidered coming home’. Ack!”

* * *

Panting heavily, Neteyam landed with a soft thump on the mossy ground. This morning’s training had been spent practising hand-to-hand combat, a programme that had been designed by his father, a relic of his tawtute origins.

Though, if Neteyam was being honest, he was not feeling much gratitude for his father in that moment. After a gruelling morning of sparring with the other warriors, he was well and truly spent.

Gentle hands touched his forehead, rubbing the skin comfortingly. Leyna.

“Have some water,” you coaxed, bringing the paywll (water plant) leaf to his lips.

Eyes meeting yours in gratitude, he began to sip from the leaf as your hands rubbed his back soothingly. In truth, he much preferred archery and rarely partook in such trainings with so much vigour. But, you had come to watch the warriors that morning and he was only slightly ashamed to admit that the sight of you had prompted his, ah, performance.

“Who was that for?” You teased.

Caught. “No, one,” he answered evasively.

He watched as your gaze travelled over the crowd that had gathered to watch the morning’s tournament, landing on Nimira who smiled softly at him in greeting.

“Ah,” you acknowledged. “I see.”

Growing alarmed at the conclusion you seemed to have reached, he quickly interjected, “No, that’s not…Nimira and I are not—”

“It’s okay,” you allowed. “We all need a little respite.”

That got his attention. Unable to help himself, he questioned, “Who’s giving you respite?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Leyna.”

“Not saying!”

His brother’s voice interrupted the two of you. “Another round?” He called from the other side of the clearing. “You up for it, bro?”

Grimacing at the thought, he shook his head. “I’m done for the day.”

“Come on,” you cajoled, kneeling to whisper by his ear, “Mighty warrior.”

Eyes widening at the coquettishness of your tone, he turned sharply, meeting your gaze with a beseeching expression.

“It’s okay, I suppose,” you allowed after a pause, a coy smile still playing on your lips. “It’s normal for males to lose some of their virility as they age.”

Aghast, he cried, “I’m only a year older!”

It was working. You were in his head and you knew it.

Grumbling, Neteyam clambered to his feet. “The things I do for you…” he muttered, reaching for your hand to steady himself.

You giggled, stepping back from him to give the men space. “You love me,” you teased, smiling at him from where you stood with the other onlookers.

“Not a chance,” he called back. Liar.

* * *

Thrumming with anticipation, Neteyam dismounted from his pa’li, turning to address the returning hunting party. It had been a successful hunt, having brought back enough yerik to feed the clan for the next few days, with the remainder of meat from the day’s meal being cured and stored away.

“Thank you, brothers and sisters,” he called out, appraising the hunting party. “I thank you for your efforts, and I thank the Great Mother for providing.”

The crowd reciprocated his thanks, lifting prayers of their own to the Great Mother before dispersing at his dismissal. But it was not the euphoria of the successful hunt that had him fumbling with the saddle on his pa’li in his haste to leave. Rather, it was the prospect of an evening alone with you after weeks.

Caught up in preparations for the Tipani clan’s visit and the general humdrum of clan life had kept you apart for much of the last few weeks. A few fleeting glances and quick exchanges of greetings in between their duties had left him wanting for your company.

“Hot date?” his brother grinned impishly as he caught sight of his expression.

Neteyam quickly schooled his expression into one of placid indifference. “No,” he answered plainly. “Just going out flying.”

“Is that what they’re calling it now?” Lo’ak chortled, thumping him on the back. “Hope you have a good flight, then, bro.”

“What are your plans, then?” Neteyam asked, hoping to direct his brother elsewhere. Technically, he was not doing anything wrong by meeting with you—it was hardly an illicit liaison—but he could not shake the discomfort he felt when it came to sharing the details of his budding association with you with his brother.

“Ah.” Lo’ak smiled amusedly. “I’m going flying myself, actually.”

Neteyam followed his brother’s gaze to where it rested on an attractive female who blushed, nodding bashfully in Lo’ak’s direction. Seren was a good hunter, but Neteyam did not know her personally, certainly not in the way his brother seemed to know her.

“Fuck off with the flying shit,” he shot back, tone teasing. “Seren, huh.”

“It’s not like that,” Lo’ak clarified. “We’re seeing each other casually, if you catch my meaning.”

“Yes, bro, I know what you mean.” Neteyam rolled his eyes. “I’m aware of what sex is.”

Lo’ak only chortled. “Celibacy is making you irritable.”

“I’m not—what are you—”

“You haven’t been seeing Nimira, have you?”

“That’s not—stop talking shit.” Neteyam spluttered, caught off guard by his brother’s observation.

“We live together, remember?”

“That’s not—” Neteyam paused. “I’m not irritable because of that.”

“Sure.”

“Perhaps, I’m irritated because a certain brother of mine refuses to stop asking me annoying, intrusive, personal questions.”

“Ha..ha, you got me.” Lo’ak chuckled. “I’m still right about your, ah, problem.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

Leaving his still tittering brother, Neteyam turned to head for the ikran calling point near the rookery. He was loath to lose precious time he could be spending with you and worried that he had kept you waiting in entertaining his brother’s antics.

To his surprise, the clearing was empty, no sign of you or Pänu. Scanning the surrounding vegetation, he waited, expecting you to emerge any time. As the minutes ticked by, he grew more antsy, not knowing you to be tardy.

Contemplating his options, he decided to return to the village and check your family’s alcove. Skin prickling from nerves, he swiftly scaled kelutral, padding along its boughs to reach the entrance to your family’s home.

“Leyna,” he called, noting the lack of activity in the space. Perplexed, he turned a corner, sighing in relief when he caught sight of you, faced away from him with a food preparation mat before you.

You were so engrossed in your work that you did not seem to have heard his initial call.

“Leyna,” he called, tapping your shoulder to get your attention.

“Great Mother,” you screeched, jumping at his touch. “Neteyam, you scared me!”

Slightly amused, he questioned, “What happened? We’re supposed to go flying, remember?”

“Wiya, I’m so sorry,” you cried, eyes widening at the realisation. “I was just so busy—” You nodded at the mess on the food mat. “—I can’t believe I forgot.”

“It’s okay,” he allowed, eyes tracing over the food mat. “Are you making melon cake?”

“Yes, well, I—your brother saw Txep eating it the other day and asked for some so I thought I’d make some for him. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”

So, that was why you were late. Neteyam felt a sliver of irritation at your words. He nodded slowly. “I see.”

“You’re upset with me.”

“No, I’m not.” Neteyam said, his voice terse.

“You are.”

“I’m really not,” he rebuffed, stepping back from you in a motion to leave. “You’ll need to wait to give him the cake, though.” He paused, before adding, “He’s busy with Seren now.”

“What was that?” You asked sharply.

“What?”

“That bit,” you pressed. “About Seren.”

Neteyam shrugged. “I just thought you should know his whereabouts if you were planning on giving my brother his food.”

“No,” you said slowly. “That wasn’t why you said it. Y-you—this isn’t about that, is it? My feelings—you were trying to hurt me.”

Neteyam opened his mouth, denial on his lips when he caught the anguished expression on your face. Had he really said that? To hurt you?

“This—you’re unbelievable,” you muttered. “That was months ago. I’m not—it’s not like that anymore.” You paused, breathing deeply. “Why does that even matter? Why do you care?”

In the many months he had spent with you, as your bond had grown stronger, he had fantasised, a hundred different times, of how he would confess his feelings to you. Perhaps, in the woods, where you would retreat to converse for hours in the seclusion of the thicket. Or, in the valley, during one of your trips, with you by his side, laughing gaily as you felt the cold water tickling your toes. But not this. Never this.

So, he deflected, regretting the words almost as soon as they left his mouth. “It-it’s just—it’s sad to watch.”

“It’s sad to watch?” You repeated dully, folding your arms across your chest. “Then, maybe you should leave.”

“That’s not what I meant—it’s just—I don’t want you to get hurt.” He babbled, attempting to mollify you.

“Huh,” you said slowly, unable to keep the animosity from spilling into your voice. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

“Leyna, I was only trying to—”

“Just go.”

* * *

“No.”

“Alright, then,” he acknowledged, slightly stung by her curt declination.

“I wasn’t done,” Nimira continued, grabbing his shoulders to make him face her. “Stop.” She reached for his bow, prying it from his hands and setting it on a nearby rock. “Just, tell me what happened.”

“Why do you think something happened?” He queried, not quite meeting her eyes. “Does something have to happen for me to want you?”

“Actually,” she said, eyeing him sceptically. “In your case, yes.”

“Nim, please,” he sighed. “Just let it go. You said no. I heard it. We have patrol now.”

“We also had patrol when you propositioned me, hmm?” She pushed him lightly, urging him to sit, while she knelt beside him. “Now, talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit,” she shot back. “You’ve been moody all week—”

“I’m not—”

“—by Eywa, I’m sick of it. The sullen face and the one-word answers to everything.” Nimira shook her head. “You haven’t gone running off to find Leyna after evening patrol which means she’s involved somehow. So, just tell me what you did.”

“Why do you assume it was me?”

“Simple,” Nimira said, chuckling softly. “You’re shit with girls—”

“That’s not—I’m a grown adult, I’ve had—”

“I’m not talking about sex.” She poked his side teasingly. “We both know that you do just fine there. I was talking about relationships.”

Knowing that she would not back down until he confessed, he sighed, “I fucked it up, Nim. Everything.”

“Fucked it up how?”

Pausing, he replayed the memory in his head first, wincing slightly as he recounted the details, deliberately avoiding looking at her face.

Nimira sighed when he fell silent. “Oh, Neteyam.”

“I was trying to protect her,” he mumbled feebly. The longer you held onto feelings for his brother, the more it would hurt. He only wanted to spare you the agony. Right. Right?

“That’s not why you said it,” Nimira said softly. “You were jealous—you are jealous.” Sensing his objection, she raised her hand to silence him. “Don’t deny it.”

“Maybe I am,” he allowed. “But now she won’t speak to me. I haven’t even seen her.”

“Then, go look for her and tell her you’re sorry.”

“What if she doesn’t accept it?” Dread pooled in his belly, recalling the anguished expression on your face.

“You have to try.” Her lips quirked upwards impishly. “And besides, I don’t have an opening tonight. I’m busy.”

Still languishing over his impending conversation with you, it took him a moment before he caught on to her meaning. “Wait,” he started, eyes roving over her face as she waited for him to continue. “You’re busy tonight. And you’re—” He gestured to her growing smile. “Aran?”

A delighted laugh bubbled forth from her. “It just happened.”

“When?”

She shook her head amusedly. “Maybe if someone wasn’t too busy brooding, he would’ve noticed.”

“Nim.”

“Fine,” she laughed. “We stayed back after training the other day. We were just talking and it just happened. He kissed me.”

“Oh, Nim,” he said warmly, bumping his shoulder against hers. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she returned, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’d like to be happy for you too so apologise to her.”

Neteyam nodded solemnly, resolving to find you after last meal and rectify his mistake.

* * *

Neteyam padded quietly across the forest floor, smiling absentmindedly as it pulsed brightly with hues of green beneath his feet. It had taken some wheedling but he had finally managed to coax Ka’ni into revealing your whereabouts. You were praying at ultra ayomokriyä (tree of voices) and he was determined to catch you before you retired for the night.

Pushing past the clusters of bioluminescent tendrils that grew from the tree, he wandered deeper into ultra ayomokriyä until he caught sight of your kneeling form, having already made tsaheylu with the tree. His heart clenched as his gaze landed on your face, eyes closed in prayer. It had only been a week and he had missed you greatly.

Neteyam hesitated, caught between not wanting to interrupt your prayer but also growing uncomfortable, being made to feel like a voyeur. Steeling himself, he approached you slowly, kneeling next to you before gently tapping your shoulder to announce his presence.

In spite of the gentleness of his action, you startled, jumping back and severing your neural connection with the tree. “Neteyam!” You yelped, chest heaving as you took in the sight of him.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said quickly, desperately hoping that you would not send him away.

“It’s fine,” you managed, breaths slowing as your panic waned. “You surprised me, is all.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. For more than just startling you.

“It’s okay.” You moved to stand. “I should be leaving. It’s getting late.”

Neteyam shot up, reaching for your hand to stop you from moving away. “Wait.”

“Neteyam, what—”

“Please,” he implored. “Just give me a second, to explain.”

“Explain what?” You asked tiredly, still not pulling your hand out of his grasp.

“I’m sorry for what I said. It was cruel and unfair.” He paused, watching your face for any reaction. “Please forgive me.”

“Neteyam, it’s just—” You sighed. “Is that all I am? The pathetic girl who trails after your brother?”

“Leyna, that’s not—”

“Let me finish,” you said. “That’s what you meant, isn’t it? Because, if you’re only here to babysit your brother’s lovesick little friend, then you can leave. Because that’s not what I am.” You laughed ruefully. “At least, not any more.”

“No, Leyna,” he pleaded, heart clenching at your words. “We’re friends. It’s not like that.” Friends, right.

He could see your eyes softening and his foolish heart clung to the hope of reconciliation. By Eywa, he could not go another day without you, your beautiful smile and the pleasure of your company. He missed their evening flights together and the hours spent in the woods, content to engage in lively conversation as the sky darkened. Even if you only ever saw him as a friend, he would take what he could get….

After a long silence, you uttered the words he had longed to hear. “I forgive you, Neteyam.”

“Leyna, I—”

“And I don’t need your protection, okay?” You added carefully. “I’m a big girl and I’ve had feelings before.”

Wincing a little despite himself, he nodded. “Understood.”

Satisfied, you reached for his hand. “Come, let us pray.”

Relieved to have been forgiven, he smiled warmly at you, letting himself be led to where you had been seated before. Kneeling slowly, he reached for a cluster of bioluminescent tendrils, before bringing his neural queue towards it, watching as they joined eagerly. He sighed as the sensation settled, his eyes drifting shut. Tsaheylu.

An immediate calm fell over him, and he relaxed into it, feeling keenly the Great Mother’s presence around him. His mind drifted to thoughts of the Great Hunt, which was due to begin in a few days. He sought the Great Mother’s guidance and strength to allow him to lead the hunt successfully.

Cracking an eye open briefly during his own prayers, he startled, not expecting to meet your gaze, eyes trained on him with a curious expression on your face. “Everything alright?”

You nodded, with a tight-lipped smile. “Just thinking about something my grandmother said the last time I visited her.”

“What did she say?”

“Oh, that’s a secret,” you said airily, laughing at the indignance blooming on his face.

“Come on, te—”

“How did your parents fall in love?” You interjected, catching him by surprise.

“Everyone knows that story,” he said slowly, curious as to your sudden interest in the subject. It was true, though. His parent’s love story had cultivated quite an ardent, ah, fanbase. Particularly among the younger girls who could be overheard giggling over the tale. Star-crossed lovers from different species who end up together; admittedly, he could grasp the appeal of the premise. However, over the years, the details of their whirlwind romance had undergone a rather intense metamorphosis, the details changing and shifting as they passed from ear to ear. Neteyam had had to step in and personally clarify many of the details himself. No, his father had not descended from the sky in his human form, free of any breathing apparatus. Ridiculous.

“Tell me anyway,” you coaxed, nudging your shoulder against his.

“Uh, my father came here with the tawtute, with the RDA.” His sentence ended with a soft snarl; he had not said that word in a long time. “He was here to learn more about the clan to get access to the lìngtskxe (unobtanium) deposit under the old tree.”

You tutted. “Eywa, now I know why you do not join me at the children’s hut for storytelling in the evenings,” you teased. “Put some emotion into it.”

“Do you want to hear it, or not?”

“Yes, yes, go on.”

“While trying to learn about the clan for the RDA, he fell in love with sa’nok, who was training him for his initiation rituals.” He continued. “Then, he turned his back on the RDA and joined the clans to drive them away.”

“And he tamed toruk!” You added.

“Yes, he did,” he concluded, finding your excitement endearing. He wanted to kiss you.

Remembering another detail then, he added with a laugh, “They didn’t even have a proper ceremony. My grandmother never got to officiate their wedding—she still complains about it. They ran off and mated. Right here, actually.”

“It’s so romantic,” you sighed, gazing wistfully into the distance.

“I don’t think romance was on their mind.” He paused. “Sexual frustration, maybe?” He added with a grimace, not wanting to think of his parents that way.

“Wiya, you’re hopeless,” you admonished. “They came from different worlds and fell in love, what were the odds of them even meeting, hmm? It’s romantic.”

“If you say so,” he allowed, a small smile playing on his lips. “How did your parents fall in love?

“Oh,” you said, chortling. “Sempul and sa’nok met here after the first battle with the tawtute. He says that he fell in love with her immediately but sa’nok wouldn’t give him the time of the day.”

In a conspiratorial whisper, you added, “Sa’nok had feelings for someone else.”

Oh. His eyes widened at the detail; he would need to speak to your father one of these days.

“How did he win her over?” He queried, wary of appearing too eager.

“Ah, sempul likes to joke that he managed to wear her down eventually,” you supplied. “But, sa’nok says that she found his determination endearing and found him more charming the longer they spent together. But, she didn’t know if she should stay here and not return home because sempul was too nervous to tell her. She didn’t want to leave her home for the possibility that he cared for her.” You paused. “What made her choose to stay was him telling her how he felt for her.”

Ah, that. The pesky fact of a confession. He had not yet gathered the courage to share his feelings with you.

“That’s nice,” he added quickly, realising that he had been silent for longer than appropriate.

You looked at him curiously, finding his demeanour strange. He squirmed, resolving to tell you how he felt. Soon.

* * *

After much back-and-forth, he had finally been released from the healer’s alcove after a few weeks, a thin bandage at his side the only evidence of his injury. Though he knew they meant well, he had grown tired of the healers’ fretting and resented being caged in the alcove.

But, there was also an, ah, other reason for his impatience, that was, his desire for more privacy. As he left the healer’s alcove, his thoughts returned to you, as they did more often than not. The heady feeling of your lips against his had become his new fixation. In the weeks since his injury, you had been a daily visitor, sneaking into the alcove in the evenings, once the other healers had retired for the night.

He was pleased to note how little coaxing from him it had taken for you to renege on your vow not to kiss him until he had fully recovered. Though you remained painfully cautious of his injury, with every night that passed, he grew more daring in his touches. To his delight, he had come to see all of you during their nightly rendezvous in the healer’s alcove, shielded only by a wispy curtain between the beds.

Unfortunately for Olin, she had also come to see all of you, courtesy of an errant moan and untimely mishap with the curtain. She had fled the alcove with a startled yelp followed by copious laughter. You had been mortified, burying your face in his chest, insisting that you would not return until he was discharged; you came back the next night.

Now that he was no longer under observation, he was free to do whatever and well, whomever he liked without fear of intrusion. Padding quietly through the forest, he followed a familiar path to where he knew you would be.

As the vegetation thinned, he glimpsed you, on all fours, picking seeds from the ground. Pxorna seeds, he supplemented with a small smile. With the cooler season nearing, pxorna would become harder to find, which was why you had insisted on gathering enough before then. For him.

“Yawntu (loved one),” he called softly as he neared you, heart pounding in his chest as you turned, beaming at the sight of him. Setting your pouch down, you rushed towards him, pausing only as you reached him so as to not jostle him.

Pulling you securely against the warmth of his body, he inhaled your sweet scent, feeling the lingering aches in his body disappear. Leaning into his embrace, you burrowed into the crook of his neck.

“Did everything go okay?” You murmured, voice muffled where you were pressed against his skin. “Was the tsahìk upset about letting you leave?

“My grandmother? She wasn’t happy about it but she agreed.” He laughed softly before adding, “Olin was quite supportive, though.”

You pulled back, eyes widening at the implication. “I would hit you so hard right now if you weren’t still recovering.”

“You love me,” he crooned.

“That, I do,” you allowed, raising yourself on your toes to press your lips against his. He returned the kiss with equal fervour, hands trailing down your back to grip your hips to pull you closer.

“I need you,” he murmured against your lips. “Now.”

The seclusion of the thicket bolstered your confidence and you responded by pulling away to untie your chest covering, letting it fall with a coy smile.

Neteyam groaned at the sight of your bare breasts, reaching to palm them when you slapped his hands away, nodding meaningfully at him. Recognising your meaning, he acquiesced, reaching for the ties of his loincloth, letting the material fall from his hips, landing carelessly on the forest floor.

Turning you gently, he pulled your back against his chest, nestling his chin in the crook of your neck while he inhaled deeply. The scent of you was intoxicating and made him want you even more. Trailing his lips down the soft skin of your neck, relishing the litany of moans and sighs that slipped past your lips at his gentle ministrations.

Placing a hand on your belly, he pulled you firmly against you, letting you feel how much he wanted you. His other hand rose to cup the soft skin of one breast, fingers brushing over your nipple which pebbled interestedly under his attentions. “Oh, Neteyam.”

Growing impatient, he bent down to scoop you in his arms and lay you against the mossy ground. “Neteyam,” you cried in alarm, hands reaching for his bandage-covered side. “Your wound—”

Pressing his lips firmly against yours, he assured, “I’m okay, yawntu. It’s okay.”

“But, you need to—”

He silenced you with another searing kiss, smiling as your complaints slowly morphed into sighs as he deepened the kiss. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” he returned, smiling impishly as he reached for the ties of your loincloth, undoing them swiftly before discarding the material off to the side. The pungent aroma of your arousal flooded his nostrils with its tantalising scent.

Encouraged by your breathy moans, he reached down to trail his fingers gently between your thighs, smiling against the skin of your breast as you cried out at the action, grinding your hips against his hand.

“Impatient, are we?” He teased, trailing his fingers deliberately around the sensitive bundle of nerves above your entrance, enjoying the way you writhed against him.

“Neteyam.”

Watching your reactions carefully, he slowed his motions to dip his fingers lower, breaching you gently with one, then two fingers, the ache between his legs growing more insistent at the feeling of your tight warmth around his fingers.

Setting a familiar rhythm, he pumped his fingers steadily in and out of you, eyes trained on your face. You were especially stunning in the throes of ecstasy and he leaned down to kiss you gently as his fingers continued their motion between your legs.

Feeling a telltale clenching of your walls against his fingers, he urged you with sweet words whispered against the delicate tips of your ears. “You’re so beautiful…I love you so much…you’re perfect…come for me, my love….”

With a strangled cry, you came around his fingers, hands flying to grip the skin of his back as you rode out your high. Leaning down to nuzzle against the skin of your breast, he murmured, “You drive me wild, my love. I just want to be inside you.”

He felt you pull him upwards to kiss him again. “I’m ready,” you murmured softly in between kisses.

Eager to be inside you, he pulled back, gripping his cock firmly, nudging it gently against your entrance, leaning forward to—

“Wait,” you cried suddenly, hands reaching to steady his hips. “You shouldn’t—your wound—”

“I’m okay,” he assured again, brushing his free hand gently against your cheek.

“I know,” you muttered apologetically. “I just worry. Wait.” You pushed against his chest, prodding to him to lay on his back. “Let me,” you explained, his eyes widening in his realisation as you clambered on top of him, seating yourself deliberately against his straining cock.

Not opposed to the change of position, he gladly acquiesced, bringing his hands up to grip your hips gently, guiding you into position, skin prickling from sheer pleasure as the head of his cock settled into place at your entrance.

“Are you okay? Are you in pain?” You queried worriedly, casting a wary glance at your bandaged site, scooting imperceptibly further away from it.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, shifting his hips against yours, endeared by your worry but also impatient to be inside you.

Gasping at the movement, you nodded, sinking down the length of him slowly until he was fully inside you, sighing in unison at the miraculous sensation of being joined this way.

“You feel so good, yawntu,” he sighed, eyes rolling back as the pleasure overwhelmed his senses.

Cracking open an eye as you starting rocking above him, he groaned at the titillating sight before him.

…the soft rounds of your breasts moving in time with your hips as you rocked above him, mouth open in pleasure…

…beads of perspiration rolling down your bare chest as you moved against him…

…breathy moans….heavy breathing…eyes rolled back in bliss as his hips met yours….

The line between his fantasies of you and reality blurred as his pleasure intensified. Eager for you to reach your peak before he lost control, Neteyam ramped up the pace of his hips, grinning at your startled cry at the shift in pace, which quickly dissolved into louder moans as you relished the increased friction between your bodies.

With a loud cry, you climaxed around him, the insistent clenching of your walls around him pushing him over the edge. Gasping at the sheer force of his pleasure, he clutched you closely against him as his peak washed over him.

With a quick press of your lips against his, you shifted slowly to lay by his side, still facing him, an impossibly bashful expression on your face. He found it endlessly fascinating how you could go from rocking above him frenziedly to a blushing, stammering mess.

“I love you,” he said, reaching forward to trail a hand down the curve of your cheek.

“I love you, too,” you returned warmly, shifting slowly to rest against him, nuzzling into the skin of his chest, a comfortable silence enveloping them.

Just as his eyes drifted close, as he gave into the haze of post-coital drowsiness, he felt your lips press against his neck. Shifting his head to face you, he raised an eyebrow at the coy smile playing on your lips. “Again?”

You nodded sheepishly, pulling back to gauge his reaction. “It’s just different—we’re alone, finally—and I just want—it’s okay if you don’t—” You stammered out an explanation.

“You know I could never refuse you, yawntu,” he assured, halting your nervous stream of words. Wrapping his arms around your lithe form, he gently lifted you, settling you against his hips.

Relieved, you leaned down to kiss him. “You’re so perfect. I love you inside me,” you whispered daringly against his lips. His eyes widened, hands reaching down to adjust himself against you until you were right where—

“Great Mother,” a voice screeched, followed by the sound of leaves rustling as their unwilling voyeur evidently began thrashing around in the surrounding shrubbery in their haste to turn away from the clearing they had been occupying.

“Olin?” He guessed, glimpsing a familiar face over your shoulder.

“I was tired. I just wanted a walk and—I’m going now! Er, enjoy yourselves!”

Stifling his laughter, he called out an apology at her retreating figure, “I’m sorry. Again!”

“No need! Have fun—ack!”

Meanwhile, you groaned against his chest. “It happened again.”

Laughing, he patted your back comfortingly. “We’ll find somewhere else—no, I’ll build you something, okay? Where were we now?”

You lifted your head up from his chest to gaze down at him curiously. “You’re still good-to-go? After that?”

He shifted himself nonchalantly against you, the evidence of his readiness pressing firmly against the skin of your stomach.

Laughing incredulously, you shifted into position. “Well alright then, if you insist.”

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