#Defensive Prowess | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writers-potion · 7 months ago

Text

Writing Female Fighters

The Heroine Must. Fight.

Today's female protagonists cannot sit on the side crying and breaking down or whimpering as the battle ensues.

Readers want to see autonomous female fighters who can at least defense themselves with courage and adequate skill.

Not all women are the same, but the heroine should get her butt moving.

Less Muscle, but More Flexibilty

The average woman is shorter than the average man, which makes it more difficult to wield a long sword or slam something down on the opponent's head.

A woman who works out can plausibly be stronger than a male couch potato, but if her male counterpart works out as much as her, the man is going to be much stronger.

On the other hand, the center of gravity in a woman's body is lower than a man's which makes it harder to knock her off her feet.

She is also more flexible, which gives her advantage in grappling fights, making use of complex landscapes, or deflecting blows.

A woman's small size can also be an advantage if her opponent has only ever trained with male opponents. His big hands might not get a good grip on her slender limbs.

In historical fiction, giving your heroine good muscule build can be tricky as exercise was generally considered harmful for women, with some exceptions for horseriding any maybe archery at best.

In such cases, make your heroine an accomplished dancer or an eager horsewoman, or the only girl whose father considered to be son replacement and thus, gave her a boy's education.

Women of lower classes who couldn't afford to be fashionably weak will be plausibly stronger, perhaps even more than an idle gentleman.

More Room for Negotiation, but Prolonged Ruthlessness

In the Suspense part of your fight scene, females are more likely to negotiate and talk more, strategically trying to descalate the situation rather than attacking on a momentary impulse.

Generally, women are less aggressive than men and remain level-headed longer than her male counterparts, opting for non-violent methods first before using force.

Exceptions apply if she is trying to protect her children (or someone who she cares for as a child). Mothers can be tigresses.

A female pre-fight conversation may be: "If you had not done so-and-so and betrayed me with so-and-so, we could have been good friends as I thought we would be." "What do you mean? It was in fact you who brought bad blood between us. I can still hear you laughing with so-and-so, taunting me, purposefully making me look bad -" "But that was so long ago! If you want me to say sorry about something so insignificant, you should have just said so: I'm sorry. There. Satisfied?" "Ha! I can't believe you say that so easily. You still don't get it, do you?" "Who's being petty and unreasonable now?"

A male pre-fight conversation will be shorter: "Who's the coward now?" "You're wrong." "Prove it." "Bastard."

Compared to men, it will take more time for a woman's fight hormones (adrenaline, neurotransmitters and such) to kick in.

She would be slower to engage initially, throwing reluctant punches and thinking, but she'll grow more and more violent and lose all rational thought and compassion, and once she's in full flow, may not stop even when her opponent begs for mercy.

When writing a male-female duo, you can show him going for the first blow while she observes and strategizes first. When he's past his peak and panting, she is flying about left and right. Later when the tension wears off and she becomes wobbly and teary, she can rely on him to have recovered faster and distract other teammates so that they won't see her cry.

Plausible Skills and Backstory

In many cultures and time periods, the general attitude of society towards girls is that they have no place in fist fights or martial arts, unlike how it is encouraged for boys of the same age. So if your heroine has physical prowess that surpasses typical 'fitness' or is hidden, build a backstory of how she's obtained it.

For modern heroines, it can be as simple as signing her up for martial arts classes or yearly membership at the local gym. For historical fiction or girls with strict 'feminine' upbringing, it can be trickier.

It can be related to profession: maybe she was an erotic wrestler, catfighter, or an assasin who thought killing was more honorable than prostitution. They may have dabbles with it for a short time and is now trying to hide their past from their respectable employer or fiance.

It can be family backstory: Perhaps her mother was an accomplished martial artist or she had to fend for younger siblings on the streets from an early age. Maybe she was the only girl in a family of many boys who refused to be the punching bag.

Inexperienced Female Fighters

A woman with no fighting experience or training is likely to resort to one of these on instinct:

Try to talk herself out of the situation, attempting to persuade or negotiate for her life.

Grab something to use as a weapon. This instinct seems to be stronger for women than it is in men.

Use her hands to try and break free, or kick (often wth little success)

Pull hair

Scratch.

In a serious fight, pulling hair and scratching won't be helpful, except when the police come to find her body, they would find the opponent's DNA under her fingernails.

Plausible Weapons and Clothing

All of the above applies to scenes where both parties have no weapons, or has the bare minimum (like one dagger each).

Weapons are equalizers, and if your heroine is pointing a gun at her opponent she will definitely NOT hesitate to be the one to shoot first.

When giving your female character a weapon, choose one she can plausibly use. It would take an unusually brawny woman to wield a great medieval longsword.

For historical fiction, give your heroine something she'll plausibly own. Swords and firearm were a no-go for women, but archery was borderline acceptable.

For clothing starters, you definitely CAN NOT dress her in a tight miniskirt and chainmail bra with long, flowy hair and multiple silver chockers. Unless she's trying to seduce her way into her opponent's bedroom, and he has a chainmail bra fetish.

A practical heroine will have her thighs covered, preferably with leather but at least with fabric, since a lot of blood flows through the thighs and a slash would be critical.

She'll keep her hair tied, tucked under a helmet, braided back, etc. so that it won't impede her vision.

She'll support her breasts with a strong sport bra. In a historical eprioid, she'll either tie her breasts tight with a fabric bandage or support them with some kind of leather corset.

Invent a female version of male fighter clothing of the time you are writing about if it doesn't exist.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

3K notes · View notes

lenny-link · 6 months ago

Text

TF2 x SU au fusions!

oof this took too long but i finally made it !

I kept @gracefireheart Andalusite (HeavyMedic) and @cariocay ‘s Turquoise (EngieSpy) (that i just realized their account got deactivated just a few days ago im sad now) fusion designs because i just found them perfect and whenever i wanted to try making my own designs i always ended up with making something similar to theirs since i was very influenced so i just kept them! They’re so awesome plz check the original artists!

my designs :3 :

About the fusions:

I tried to choose a theme for every fusion that suits the characters like Spessartite (DemoSolly) is a warrior i put Demo’s sword with Soldier’s shield thing well he doesn’t specifically have a shield but yknow the helmet thing i thought that could work.

He’s very powerful, strong and jump into action without a second thought, while he possesses immense strength and a love for loud and chaotic things, his battle prowess is a double-edged sword since his attacks lack precision. however, this unpredictability often leaves his enemies confused and scrambling to defend. he fights more efficiently when drunk lol

Lepidolite (MedicSpy) is a plague doctor, he is very inspired by Hannibal Lecter (nbc Hannibal lol shout out to that one Anon who recommended it for me to watch it lol) at first i wanted to give him a bistouri as a weapon, since it would suit Medic’s saw with Spy’s small knife, but then i felt the fusion was leaning too much towards Medic than Spy, so i put a cane instead to give that old idk gentleman look :P

He is polished and sophisticated, with a hint of underlying sadism and very precise in his movements, he meticulously analyzes his opponents, exploiting weaknesses with surgical precision before jumping into action and strike right where it hurts the most, the cane appears to be a simple walking stick, but inside is a hollowed core that had a retractable, poison-tipped blade, and his poison isn't fast-acting he enjoys toying with his victims, watching as the venom slowly takes hold, fueling his twisted sense of amusement. they are far from being the strongest fusion but they rely a lot on making their opponent weaker by their ability to attack precise hits as well as poisoning them!

Carnelian (SniperScout) his design was inspired by a equestrian outfit (he was the hardest to design tbh bc i wanted his design to be specifically different from the others since Scout is half human so i wanted this "human" aspect to show in the fusion).

He is a walking paradox, he's got Sniper's calm confidence with Scout's hyperactive energy, he loves a good plan but his execution is often fueled by pure adrenaline, he can zip across the battlefield with incredible speed, dodging attacks and flanking enemies. good at mid range and long range attacks but weak at close range, has internalized monologues with himself a lot, he appears calm on the surface however, his foot constantly taps, he fidgets with his slingshot, he cannot stays in place for too long. enjoys taking challenges.

Rubellite (DemoPyro) is a robot with a 50’s cartoon style but with like a creepy vibe to it, their voice sounds like a broken radio perpetually stuck on a laugh track, is both infectious and unsettling.

They just as powerful as Spessartite but just a bit more agile and lean more on the defense style than offense, their body stretches in a cartoony way and battles become a twisted playground for them, a child's game where they hop and blow things up everywhere. they’re very joyful and loves to have fun while making chaos, they usually make jokes but no one understands their muffled voice so they often laugh all by themselves lol the weapon actually expands where the ball and the shaft of the mace connects there’s a chaine (i didnt draw it cuz there was already too much going on in the drawing lol) which helps them reach target from close to mid range easily, they twist and turn their body in very flexible ways before swatting their weapon at their target.

♠︎ If you want to suggest a pair for the next fusion please just comment here DO NOT send it in my ask box plz !!

And if you want to make your own fusion designs/fanart go ahead ! id love to see other people’s interpretations could be ! just don’t forget to tag me and add the tag ( tf2 x su au) :D

hope you enjoy !

+ early designs :

2K notes · View notes

travelbloggerhindi · 2 years ago

Text

1 note · View note

siderealcity · 5 months ago

Text

So, one of the things I love about Dawntrail is the way the four competitors are introduced and framed.

Spoilers ahead.

We meet Wuk Lamat first. She's the reason we're here. But we'll come back to her.

So then, Zoraal Ja. He doesn't speak a single word throughout his first appearance. Even when approached, the first, and only, thing he does is tell his lackey to talk for him.

Look at what Erenville says about him when he exits the palace to the cheering of the crowd:

Erenville: Zoraal Ja. The First Promise and commander of the Landsguard. Sareel Ja, the palace seer. As he was so careful to remind the crowd, Zoraal Ja is indeed the natural child of Gulool Ja Ja. Alphinaud: And “Resilient Son”? Is that another title, like the First Promise? Erenville: After a fashion. Common knowledge has it that two-headed Mamool Ja cannot sire children… Yet Zoraal Ja was born all the same, with the Head of Resolve's features and the Head of Reason's scales─an extraordinary example of life's unyielding resilience. Alisaie: And a warrior's reticence. He says little, but the way he moves… I know a hardened soldier when I see one. Erenville: He's a natural swordsman─a gift he inherited from his father. Some even say that the son has already surpassed the sire. Should he come to power, the First Promise means to employ that martial prowess in the conquest of foreign lands. For this, he and his supporters have been labeled expansionists. This puts him in direct opposition to Wuk Lamat, who advocates for the preservation of peace. You may recall that she spoke of a claimant who “cannot be allowed to rule.” That is Zoraal Ja─the warmonger.

Zoraal Ja is clearly framed as the favorite by all of Tural to win the contest, but look at how Erenville describes him. Every compliment is instantly returned to his father. He's the Resilient Son, whose impossible birth was a miracle only Gulool Ja Ja could have managed. Look, see how much he resembles both his fathers. His sword skills are great--he inherited them from his father.

He resents his siblings because they, being adopted, are granted nothing by nature. Everything they get from their father is learned. Not innate. Koana's studies and Wuk Lamat's people skills are theirs. He doesn't see Bakool Ja Ja as a threat because they're too similar. All that makes both of them special came from their parents. But Koana, he sees as a threat or a useful tool. Koana has been recognized for what he's done on his own.

He's the perfect example of the pressures of the first-born child, even though we never get the impression that his father puts any pressure on him at all. It's the public who puts the full weight of their expectations on him, purely for a quirk of birth. Everything's expected of him, but if he succeeds it's not because of him, but because he's his father's son. Which is maybe why he refuses to engage with the people at all.

That's… going to come back to haunt us all later.

Then there's Koana. When Bakool Ja Ja insults his older brother, whom he desperately does not want to win this contest, he immediately jumps to Zoraal Ja's defense. The supporters who approach him don't have anything to say about him at all, they just want cool stuff. Bring us trains and airships and magitek doodads! He escapes from them as awkwardly as humanly possible. And note how differently Erenville describes him:

Erenville: Here we have Koana, the Second Promise, who spent time as a pupil at Sharlayan's own Studium. Alisaie: Now that you mention it, I think I did see him in the halls once or twice. There was nothing to suggest he was Turali, much less from a royal family. Erenville: That was by design. He forewent his usual garb and took an Eorzean name to avoid attention. Alphinaud: So it was Koana who introduced the dirigibles. And the railway, too, given what we just heard…? Erenville: In furtherance of his goal: to enrich Tuliyollal with every bright notion he learned of in Sharlayan. He is the hope of those who prize innovation. As aloof as he may seem, Koana and Wuk Lamat actually get along rather well. They bicker and banter as only close siblings do.

He was a student at the Studium, but we don't hear of any other achievements there. No graduating with honors. No inventions of his own. His accomplishments are mostly… being a royal, and therefore in a position to get other people's ideas implemented in Tural. And he seems to feel that. He doesn't want to be noticed, doesn't want to be lauded, won't take the encouragement of his followers, and doesn't promise them anything because he doesn't feel like he can.

He is very much caught in the middle all the time.

Between his love for his brother, who doesn't love him back, and whom he knows can't be allowed to rule, and his sense of duty to his nation. Between his feelings of inadequacy and his fear of failure. Between Tural and Sharlayan. Between his beloved baby sister and the contest that makes them rivals. Between his ideals and reality.

Perfect middle child.

Then we get Bakool Ja Ja. The outsider.

We know from the Dawnservant's introduction of the rite that historically only two-headed mamool ja were allowed to rule. He is set up, then, as the symbol of the old order.

And the moment he steps outside, the crowd goes wild.

He isn't the Dawnservant's son, but he is, as far as most of those onlookers are concerned, the next Gulool Ja Ja. The person who reacts most negatively to his appearance and bravado, tellingly, is a boonewa. A member of one of the clans that actually makes blessed siblings. That's… that's going to be meaningful later. Unlike the two claimants who preceded him, nobody asks him for anything. His supporters don't support him because they think he can help them. They support him because of what he is.

Erenville's description of him is notably brief:

Erenville: The chosen of Mamook, Bakool Ja Ja. Winner of the recent martial tournament, and the only claimant not of the Dawn's Promise. His strength is undeniable, but…you see how he is. A few devoted Mamool Ja are his only supporters. Krile: What would he do with the throne should he win it? Erenville: His policies and so forth? I doubt he's thought much beyond winning the contest itself. But one thing seems certain: if he does become Dawnservant, he will see the Mamool Ja exalted as the ruling class, and all others forced into subservience.

And yet… he's not the one Wuk Lamat was afraid of winning. Which is somewhat prophetic foreshadowing, really. Bakool Ja Ja is the only claimant who has no thoughts of the future. He has to win this contest because he exists. That's it. That's all there is.

He has to win because blessed siblings always win. If they don't… then why should they even exist?

That's… yeah.

And finally, Wuk Lamat emerges from the palace. With her mom.

If it wasn't clear before that she's the baby of the family, the fact that she makes her grand public appearance as a contender for the throne with her nursemaid should be a clue.

We have, at the moment that Erenville asks if we're sure we really want to be part of this, so far seen her wander off distracted in Sharlayan, get panicked by a talking bird, eat her weight in barbequed monster, and get extremely seasick. The one thing we know she wants out of this contest is to stop Zoraal Ja from starting a war the second he takes the throne. She is doing this, not because she wants power or has a vision for Tural, but because she opposes a bad vision.

She is so much the underdog in this contest that most of the crowd left before she appeared, assuming the show was over, and what's remaining is standing within earshot gossipping about how pathetic she is compared to the others.

Wuk Lamat is constantly in someone else's shadow. Her father. Her elder brothers. That random guy who got in here somehow. Sphene, when we get to Alexandria. She's invisible, and she seems to feel like that's just how things work. Even the soldiers who meet us at the docks need to take a minute before they realize who she is.

Erenville doesn't say anything about her, though he has a few words about how her supporters are mostly the elderly who remember the war. (I would imagine that includes a lot of non-elderly shetona, too.) But he doesn't really have to talk her up. The Reigning King of Dry Understatement may have insisted back in Sharlayan that they are not friends, merely long-standing acquaintances, but when she asked him for advice about finding allies for the contest, he recommended a god-slayer. Talk about fixing the fight. Not just recommended, he dropped what he was doing and went back across the ocean to recruit them. He could have pointed her at the Students of Baldesion. He was working with them already. Instead, he came back to Sharlayan and asked the Students to go get WoL. A person he knows is capable of crossing the entire universe to avert the apocalypse and also, for some reason, stopping to catch stray marmots along the way. He really wants her win. He just won't quite say that out loud.

"As you just witnessed, Wuk Lamat has no great army of supporters. Not yet, at least." Oh, Erenville.

#ffxiv #dawntrail #dawntrail spoilers #narrative analysis #that cutscene at the palace was a brilliant example of foreshadowing and characterization in the midst of a swack of exposition #that is not easy to pull off and I salute whoever wrote it

881 notes · View notes

tritoch · 8 months ago

Text

i know a lot of people (very understandably) dislike the paladin job quests in ffxiv, particularly HW, but i do think it's fun that, now that the pre-ShB MSQ revamp is complete, paladins now have a very cool and thematic in-game storyline that happens without a word being spoken: the development of passage of arms.

none of the below is directly stated in the script, but imo it's a fairly obvious gloss on what the game presents, if you assume a paladin warrior of light. spoilers for all expansions through the end of 6.X.

in the new version of steps of faith, as vishap breaks through each ward protecting ishgard from attack, lucia mounts a final desperate effort to hold him back, with a very familiar looking animation:

but even lucia can't hold back vishap's flame alone, so the temple knights surge forward to assist her. their efforts make the shield visually more powerful and larger. the temple knights here band together in defense of ishgard, and their knightly resolve to protect their home is the difference between victory and defeat.

lucia and the knights do ultimately succeed in defending the last ward, as you have to defeat vishap before their shield falls or you lose.

later in heavensward, obviously, we will get ffxiv's most famous (failed) attempt at blocking something with a shield.

this moment can be read as fairly impactful on the warrior of light's development; as i've noted elsewhere, after the trauma of watching haurchefant bleed out in their arms at level 57, at level 58 paladins learn to channel their magic into healing (and it's called "clemency," or mercy. mercy for whom? who was guilty?), and as someone pointed out on that post, at level 58 dark knights used to get "sole survivor", letting them heal in response to a marked target's death.

for a time, you literally carry haurchefant's shield with you, and 3.3 very much literalizes in genre fashion the idea that even when you are standing alone, your fallen friends stand with you. you don't need to call any allies to stand at your side and raise their shields with you because they are already there, in spirit.

stormblood marks a pretty important turning point in the warrior of light as a combatant, in my opinion, and the text makes this clear in several ways. first, in pretty much all your jobs, you've now far exceeded your trainers and are pioneering new techniques. this is no less true of paladin, which for 60-70 abandons any trainers at all for you to show off your peerless skills in a tournament.

second, stormblood is straight up a story about you getting stronger. at level 61, zenos kicks your ass. at level 70, you kick his ass. why? because you fought and got stronger and developed incredible new techniques and became a one-man army.

for a lot of classes, this story lines up nicely with the big rotation changes or flashy new finishers on the way from 60 to 70. SMN is now busting out bahamut and casting akh morn; RDM gets verflare and verholy; DRG starts harnessing nidhogg's power directly through dragon sight and nastrond.

the tanks are divided in two: warriors and gunbreakers get huge damaging upgrades at 70 in the form of inner release and continuation, each of which lets them hit the same button many times for lots of damage and satisfying animations. paladin and dark knight get more protective abilities; dark knight gets the blackest night, and there's been plenty said about that already by pretty much everyone.

paladins get passage of arms. instead of a relentless new attack (and you get requiescat at 68, which is a way bigger deal for your dps rotation), your big reveal at 70 for zenos in your fight in ala mhigo is a superior way to protect your party, a shield that lets you stand for your allies so they never have to fall for you again. it's lucia's same shield, except you need no allies' shields to reinforce you, proof of your martial prowess and your ability to transcend limits, and perhaps in truth a reminder that you never really stand alone.

in many respects passage of arms should really feel like a paladin signature move to you now if you are playing it at this point, because you should be popping it in pretty much every fight (you are using your mits, right...?). basically every FFXIV fight has at least one big AOE with downtime that warrants passage of arms usage, usually after the mid-fight add phase with slowly filling bar. since that AOE usually drops during downtime, there's no reason not to pop passage of arms (which otherwise restricts your movement and actions), and even on normal, sometimes every little bit counts on a damage check even if it means dropping DPS (thinking here of harrowing hell P10N on release, which was...less consistent for a lot of roulette parties than you might hope).

so from 70 onward, passage of arms is in a sense a paladin warrior of light's signature move, and certainly the one a player gets to most actually enjoy (since if you're using it, you're by necessity not doing anything besides moving your camera and admiring your sick animation). it doesn't have any competition in terms of spectacle until confiteor, and those you're usually throwing out in the middle of movement.

it's such a signature, in fact, that the only other person shown using your one-person version of passage of arms is your greatest admirer, who studied your legend for over a century.

and it's when he fails (should've popped arm's length, bud) that the warrior of light decides they can't let their friends fall for them, and sends them away with the transporter beacon. this is all wrong: you were meant to die for them, not the other way around. yours is the shield that stands between your allies and defeat. it is you who will win this passage of arms and break your opponents lance. and you do.

and then later, when they need to quickly establish zero's domain as a place of fallen grandeur, the home of someone who once believed in heroes but is now a cool and cynical vampire hunter d, what do they use? a decayed statue of someone in the paladin endwalker gear doing the passage of arms animation, of course.

from a visible instantiation of knighthood as a joint effort to defend what is sacred, to a tribute to the fallen friends whose memories stand by you and animate you, to a symbol of the wol's power as emulated by their allies or darkly mirrored in other shards.

not bad for a mit button you hit once per fight and otherwise never think about!

#the one-handed passage of arms animation is from a mod that afaik is no longer available #it was junjou laina's eikonic paladin mod but the creator appears to have pulled the version i used #pld #ffxiv #the new steps of faith is a solo duty and there's no way i'm doing all that NG+ for two screenshots #so i got those from youtube (sources in the links)#haurchefant greystone #g'raha tia #lucia junius #tbh i'm corny so i was slightly miffed when g'raha jacked our paladin swag to do passage of arms in an important story cutscene #so placing it in context as him emulating you made me enjoy it a lot more lmao. i'm petty!#meta: durai report #warrior of light ffxiv

891 notes · View notes

lecsainz · 1 year ago

Text

READY FOR IT

parings: luke castellan x ares!reader

summary: where you're the daughter of ares, and during a capture the flag game, you get angry with the son of hermes and the best swordsman at the camp, leading to a big fight with him.

an: I'm still trying to get used to the fact that the next time we see luke, he'll already be the villain 😭. and if you have any pjo requests, feel free to send them! yes, the title is from the taylor’s song, cause it was on repeat while I was writing.

( my last work || my last work for riodanverse || main masterlist )

You tightened every strap of your vest, ensuring it fit snugly against your body before the impending round of Capture the Flag.

The confidence in your team's prowess echoed within, just like the confidence in your own abilities. Your team's unbeaten streak reassured you, a source of collective pride among your half-siblings.

"Ready for another victory?" Clarisse's playful toss of her sword in your direction was met with your quick reflexes as you caught it, securing it to your waist, a reassuring weight that promised defense and offense in equal measure. "Of course! As always," you affirmed with a nod.

Walking in step with the other campers, you moved through the forest's lush foliage, Chiron's instructive words playing in your mind, an automatic script recited from countless past games.

Once Chiron signaled the start of the game, your gaze shifted to Clarisse, exchanging a playful yet determined glance. "See you on the other side," you quipped with a hint of competitive spirit.

"Better be!" She laughed back.

Parting ways from the group, you ventured alone into the forest you knew by heart. The plan was to grab the flag while the others distracted the blue team. It had always worked, so why change it?

The forest engulfed you as you traversed deeper, rustling leaves and the distant calls of woodland creatures accompanied the group, a symphony of nature lending an atmospheric backdrop to the impending contest.

The path you trod felt oddly tranquil, an eerie calmness in stark contrast to the usual pre-game adrenaline rush. It raised a flicker of unease within you, a foreboding sense of something amiss.

Eventually, the azure flag emerged, solitary and unguarded, a tantalizing prize nestled among the foliage. However, your intuition whispered a warning, urging caution amidst the apparent opportunity.

Your instinct proved right. A subtle shift in the surroundings alerted you, a subtle disturbance that stirred the air, prompting you to whirl around, unsheathing your sword with lightning reflexes.

"I knew it!" The accusation slipped from your lips as you swiftly aimed the weapon at the figure of the Hermes boy who had materialized behind you, an unexpected yet anticipated intrusion.

"The rules of the game don't include killing or maiming," Luke's voice echoed, his calm demeanor belying the tension.

"Since when do you follow rules, Castellan?" You retorted sharply.

Glancing around quickly, you realized it was just the two of you.

"Why are you alone?" You took a step forward, still pointing the sword.

"It's easier to catch you off guard," he shrugged.

Then you advanced towards him, but he held back the blow easily with his sword. But it seemed too effortless for the best swordsman in 300 years at the camp. You noticed he was going easy on you when he countered, and that made you angry.

"Stop," you demanded as you attempted a move you'd practiced with Clarisse earlier in the week, catching Luke off guard.

Luke used his shield to defend. "Stop what?" He asked, not understanding.

"Stop trying to be kind!" You spat. "I can fight with you without you going easy."

"I'm not being kind, I'm being fair," he replied, parrying your sword. "I don't want to hurt you, Y/N."

That made you furious with the boy. You lunged at him with the sword, showcasing an anger inherited from your father and proving you could match Luke's level. With every strike you made, Luke stepped back until he found himself cornered behind a tree.

And with a final clash of swords, you ended up throwing Luke's sword away and stood face to face with him.

You breathed heavily, examining Luke, noticing details you hadn't seen before. And then, as you realized, you took a step back.

"Tired of looking?" Luke asked, a smirk forming on his face.

Pretending not to hear, you bent down to pick up Luke's sword. But as you reached for it, he was quicker, throwing you to the ground and pinning you down.

"Let me go, Castellan!" You squirmed under him but to no avail.

"You told me not to go easy on you, Y/L/N," he pinned your wrist to the ground when you tried to reach for his dagger at his waist.

"I hate you," you said.

Luke's laughter echoed through the forest, his eyes locked on yours. "No, you don't."

Frustration bubbled within you as you squirmed, trying to free yourself from his hold. He was strong, but you were clever.

With a swift movement, you feigned surrender, allowing your body to go limp beneath his grasp. Luke relaxed his grip slightly, thinking he had you under control.

But it was a ruse.

In that split second, you used the distraction to your advantage. You swiftly twisted your body, catching him off guard, and managed to slip out from under him.

Luke's eyes widened in surprise as you sprang to your feet, picking up his discarded sword and pointing it towards him. "I told you not to underestimate me, Castellan."

He smirked, impressed by your maneuver. "I guess I owe you an apology for that." You couldn't help but notice the glint in Luke's eyes and the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

#luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo tv show

1K notes · View notes

moonselune · 6 months ago

Note

Hey! Could you write something about jealous Gale, Wyll and Astarion, please? 💕 (Thank you!!)

jealous jealous boyyyyyyy I loved this so muchhhhhhh jealous prompts just make my brain go brrrrrr

Gale:

You had always admired Gale's prowess with magic. His spells were elegant, his incantations precise. Yet, on this particular day, as you walked through the bustling streets of Baldur's Gate, a different mage approached you, offering to teach you a new spell.

"Allow me," the mage said smoothly, his eyes lingering on you with more interest than was purely professional.

You hesitated, intrigued by the promise of new knowledge. Gale, walking beside you, stiffened noticeably. His jaw clenched as he watched the mage perform a simple cantrip, showing off a minor illusion with a flourish.

After the mage walked away, leaving you with a scroll and a promise to meet again, Gale turned to you, his eyes dark with barely restrained jealousy. "Why would you need someone else to teach you magic?" he asked, his voice tight.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you tucked the scroll into your pack. "Gale, my love, are you jealous?"

"Of course not. It's just… I know your capabilities and it’s insulting to see someone else presume to teach you as if you were an amateur." He huffed, crossing his arms defensively. You stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his arm.

"You know you're the only teacher I could ever have," you said softly, looking up into his eyes. You smiled again and pressed a kiss to his cheek, moving to hover over his ear. "Your lessons are much more intimate and attentive."

His tense posture relaxed slightly, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth as a small blush bloomed across his cheeks.

"Very well, then," he said, his tone warming as he pulled you to his side, a hand snaking around your waist, "I have a few new spells in mind that I think you’ll find quite invigorating"

Wyll:

The vibrant melodies of a bard's lute filled the air as you walked through the marketplace. The bard's eyes lit up when he saw you, and he began to serenade you with a heartfelt tune. Before you knew it, he extended his hand, inviting you to dance.

Wyll, ever the gentleman, stood nearby, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the bard's antics. The bard spun you around gracefully, and for a moment, you were caught up in the music and the joy of the dance. But just as the bard pulled you closer, Wyll stepped in, intercepting the dance with a fluid, graceful motion.

"May I cut in?" Wyll asked, his voice polite but firm, not waiting for an answer as he took your hand and led you away from the bard.

You smiled up at him, amused by the possessive edge in his movements. "Wyll, are you jealous?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Jealous? No, no. Gentlemen don't get jealous."

You pretended to believe him, nodding solemnly. "Of course, how silly of me. I'm glad I have such a composed and unaffected partner."

Wyll smiled, spinning you around before pulling you close again. "Just remember who your real dance partner is," he murmured, his voice low and full of meaning.

You smiled again and pressed a kiss to his lips, but to your surprise he dipped you over his leg and deepened it. Kissing you passionately before lifting you back up. You giggled and pressed your face to his chest in slight embarrassment, trying to hide your rosy red cheeks. He laughed and put a hand on your back, definitely not sending a glare to the bard who had seen the whole thing.

Astarion:

Astarion had always been charmingly possessive, but today his jealousy was more biting. As you spoke with an attractive merchant, Astarion's eyes darkened with jealousy. Later, when you returned to him, he greeted you with a cold, cutting remark.

"Enjoying your time with every attractive stranger who crosses your path?" he sneered, his eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and anger. "Or are we just so deperate for attention that we will take any measly means of it."

You bristled at his tone, your own temper flaring. He had been acting like this all afternoon and you had had enough. "What is your problem, Astarion? Why are you being so foul?"

Instead of answering, he turned away, his shoulders tense. You threw your hands up in the air in frustration and stormed off, your heart heavy with hurt. You walked a few metres outside of camp, Scratch diligently following you, and sat on a fallen tree. Scratch put his head in your lap as you stroked him for comfort.

It wasn't long before you heard footsteps behind you. Astarion appeared, his usual confident demeanor replaced with a look of remorse. Scratch let out a low growl, the dog being rather attached to you and sensing how this was going to play out.

You didn't look at him, just remained petting Scratch and looking out into the forest. "What do you want Astarion, or are you just here to shame me some more?"

"I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice lacking its usual sharpness and trembled with an emotion he was unfamiliar with - guilt? Shame? "I was out of line."

You stopped petting Scratch and turned to him, your eyes searching his. He looked downtrodden and overall quite pathetic, his usual bravado nowhere to be seen. "Why do you do this, Astarion? Why do you push me away when you're jealous?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and he walked to you, dropping to his knees. Scratch eyed him with slight irritation as he pushed him out of his spot, but he soon became distracted by a squirrel that ran across the path and he left the two of you to it.

"It's because I care about you more than I care to admit. The thought of losing you to someone else.... it.. it.. terrifies me. Please, I can't lose you" Astarion begged, as he held your hands in your lap, looking up at you with wet red eyes.

You softened, leaning towards him, brushing a strand of his pale curled locks behind his ear. "You won't lose me, Astarion. But you need to trust me."

He nodded, resting his head in your lap. "I know. I promise I'll try to be better. Just… don't ever leave me."

You combed your fingers through his hair, a small smile on your lips as you felt the sincerity in his words. "I won't. Not ever."

my hands slipped and I accidentally made Astarion's a bit angsty - or should I say Ass-starion, am I right.?... I'll leave now.. - Seluney xoxox

426 notes · View notes

bombcollar · 6 months ago

Text

The Greatmaw Dragons - An Ancient Fanbreed

Vast and stalwart, the Greatmaw dragons were created ages ago by the Lightweaver to prevent the rise of further Emperors. Greatmaws were able to stride across active battlefields, shrugging off any and all attacks due to their sheer size and magical defensive prowess. Tasked with finding and consuming the corpses of fallen Imperial dragons, they carried out this sacred rite, believing it the highest honor a dragon could be given.

Greatmaws were able to absorb any lingering magical potential in the bodies they consumed, using it to bolster or heal their allies by their mere presence. If an Emperor did rise, they would lay it back to rest, two or more of them gathering around it, tearing it to pieces with their jaws and devouring it. To have one’s ancestors or relatives consumed by a Greatmaw is considered a blessing by Imperial dragons, who will brag about it for generations.

Outside of battle, Greatmaws were pious, respected members of the Light, often serving as priests and counselors, especially for those who were grieving. They understood death as no other and were grateful to help in spiritual ways as well as physical. None were more devoted to the Lightweaver than they.

However, there came a time when Emperor dragons seemed to be no more. There was far more care given to deceased Imperials, and the threat had diminished. Their large bodies were difficult to sustain without as many corpses to eat. The Lightweaver saw the Greatmaws no longer served their original purpose, and the species heeded her word to cease having hatchlings, content to die out if that was her wish, but…

There is always room for contingencies. Dozens of eggs were saved and lay dormant, waiting for the day the Emperors rise again. With a war on the horizon, they may be needed sooner than anyone thought.

Individual images and tert gene sketches under the cut:

Size comparison to an imperial.

#flight rising #delta art #fanbreed #greatmaw #ugh i hope it shows up this time :(#i had to delete the original because it wasnt appearing on the dash

658 notes · View notes

giggle-guru · 29 days ago

Text

Okay, so here is the audio you’ve been waiting for! I’m not entirely confident with my abilities to do Lucifer, but I gave it my best shot. I utilized one of the AI websites for my voice overlap (because I cannot make my voice go that deep or anything for the life of me, I’ve tried) so some parts are slightly glitchy but other then that it seems to have exported okay. I’d love to hear your feedback, other things you’d like to hear, etc etc! Thanks for listening :)

Background: Alastor and Lucifer joined Husk and Angel Dust in a few rounds of poker. Of course, Angel managed to coerce Lucifer into having one too many drinks, and Alastor ensures that he gets back to their room within the hotel safely. He figures this might be the best time to point out a little…quirk he’s noticed in Lucifer’s behaviour.

Script is below the cut for those interested (note I did go off of it a few times and sometimes didn’t write out effects I was planning aha):

[Sound Effect: Two sets of footsteps. One stuttering. One consistent.]

Alastor: [chuckling softly] Lucifer, my dearest... you really must be more careful with how many drinks that charming little Spider manages to convince you to indulge in. I’d hate to see you so... inebriated again. You know what happens when you’re under the influence. [He chuckles slightly.]

Lucifer: [grumbling, defensive] Relax, Bambi. I hic I am the King of Hell! I can… I can handle a few [hic] drinks…

Alastor: [mocking, with a wide grin evident in his voice] Of course, my liege! Why, how could I ever doubt the infinite prowess of the almighty Lucifer Morningstar? [chuckling] Though, if I may be so bold, your "infinite prowess" seems to have trouble walking straight at the moment.

Lucifer: [grumbling, defensive] It's... hiccup the floor. It's uneven. You should fix it.

[Sound Effect: A stumble, followed by a quick grab.]

Alastor: [amused] My, my, such treacherous flooring! Let’s not test gravity further, hmm? Hold still, my darling. Let me get the door.

[Sound Effects: A door creaks open, and the two step inside. Alastor guides Lucifer toward the bed.]

Lucifer: [grumbling, slurring slightly] Hah... you fuss over me too much. I can take care of myself, you know.

Alastor: [with a smirk in his voice] Oh, of course you can! Why, you’re practically a paragon of self-sufficiency... when you’re not half-conscious and leaning on me for support.

Lucifer: [small chuckle] You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?

Alastor: [teasing, delighted] Oh, my dear Lucifer, you wound me! Enjoying this? Why, I’m simply being a concerned partner, making sure my precious King doesn’t topple over like a drunken mortal. I do think it’s time we get you out of that dashing suit and into something a bit more... comfortable, hmm? Sit.

[Sound Effects: Bed creaking. Clothes rustling.]

Lucifer: [groaning, slightly annoyed] I don’t need help with this, Bambi. I can undress myself.

Alastor: [with a teasing voice] Oh, Lucifer, darling, I’m sure you can. But let's be honest, you’ll never manage to get those buttons undone without my assistance in this state. [pauses, his voice dropping to a more affectionate tone] Once I finish changing you, my dear, why don’t we simply cuddle for a while? After all, what’s a night of indulgence without a little rest and relaxation?

Lucifer: [huffs, but there’s a soft smile in his voice, small giggle] Fine... fine. But I’m not some... helpless creature.

Alastor: [grinning] Of course not. You’re the most powerful being in Hell... when you’re sober.

[Sound Effects: Clothing changes. Bed creaking as they get under the covers.]

Alastor: [grinning] Are you comfortable, my dear?

Lucifer: [mumbling, relaxed but still with a hint of his usual pride] Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just... stop smothering me for a second, Bambi.

Alastor: [teasing] Oh, but I can’t help it, darling. You’re so much more charming when you let your guard down. [pauses, his voice softening slightly] Besides, what could be more relaxing than being pampered by your favorite radio demon?

Lucifer: [grin in his voice] Pampered, huh? More like nagged…

Alastor: [Teasing, amused] My, my... is this how you treat me, darling? After I spend all night taking care of you—guiding you to bed, making sure you’re comfortable—this attitude is the thanks I get? [Pauses, his voice lowering with a mischievous edge] I’d watch your tone, my dear.

[A soft chuckle as he moves closer.]

With how much you’ve had to drink tonight, I’m sure you’re quite sensitive… [His voice turns playful, teasing.] Don’t try to hide it, Lucifer. I know you’re feeling it now.

[Sound Effects: A light shift in the bed, followed by the faint sound of a finger trailing lightly over skin.]

Alastor: [Teasing, delighted] Hmm... What’s this? [His finger traces gently up Lucifer’s side, the movement soft but deliberate.]

Lucifer: [Chuckling softly but with a slight edge of excitement] Bambi, don’t—

Alastor: [Mockingly innocent] Don’t what, darling? [He trails a finger higher, a light tickle along Lucifer's ribs.] I’m just trying to help you relax.

Lucifer: [Trying to suppress a laugh, but fails and giggles softly] Alastor, I swear— [His tone softens as he shifts slightly under the touch.] I told you, stop that…

Alastor: [Chuckling softly, playful amusement] Oh, quit pretending you don’t enjoy this, my dear. I’ve seen the way you act—always teasing me, poking at my nerves, just to get me to... [He pauses for effect, leaning closer as his voice drops slightly.] do exactly this. [He chuckles again, a hint of mischief creeping in.]

How naïve do you think I am? [There’s a slight hum in his tone, as if savoring the thought.] Ever since that first time I tickled you into submission. [Sing-song] Admit it, darling, you’re simply begging for attention in the most roundabout way.

Lucifer: [Pausing, his voice stumbling slightly, trying to sound defensive but failing miserably] W-What? That’s—ridiculous, Bambi! I don’t— [He shifts uncomfortably, a faint blush creeping into his tone, betraying his embarrassment.] I-I don’t try to get you to do anything! You’re just... imagining things! And even if I did—which I didn’t—you wouldn’t be able to prove it... [Soft giggles, soft voice, a hint of defeat mingling with his embarrassment.] ...J-Just shut up and stop grinning like that. And stop with the light touching! [giggle]

Alastor: [Sly chuckle, his voice dripping with mock innocence and teasing delight] Oh, dear. It seems I’ve struck the nail right on the head, haven’t I? [He leans in closer, his tone dropping to a smooth, mischievous murmur.] Tell me, Lucifer... do you enjoy being tickled?

[He pauses, letting the question hang in the air, his grin practically audible in his voice.] You can’t hide it from me, darling. Not in this state.

Lucifer: [His voice falters slightly, embarrassed and defensive] I-I don't enjoy it, Al! Stop trying to twist things! [He shifts uncomfortably again, trying to hide his reaction, but failing to suppress the soft giggles that escape him.] I-I don’t need you to do... whatever this is. [He trails off, unable to fully argue, as his voice still holds light giggling]

Alastor: [Grinning widely, his voice laced with amusement and satisfaction] Oh, Lucifer... You can deny it all you like, but your body is betraying you, my dear. [He trails a finger gently across Lucifer's ribs once more, his voice laced with playful menace.] How many times have you tried to get me to do this? Teasing, poking, all those little comments, your lack of the ability to speak the word tickle just now... I’m not blind, darling. I see right through you.

[He pauses, lowering his voice as he leans in closer, enjoying the subtle shift in Lucifer’s reactions.]

Alastor: [Softly, almost a whisper] So are you going to admit it? Or do I need to tickle it out of you?

Lucifer: [His voice cracks slightly as he tries to maintain his composure, a mixture of indignation and poorly masked laughter] A-Admit what? There’s nothing to admit! You’re just being your annoying ass self—and making things up! [He squirms slightly, his voice trailing into a nervous chuckle.]

Alastor: [Delighted, with a smooth, teasing edge] Oh, darling, denial suits you so poorly. [He lets his fingers glide teasingly down Lucifer’s sides, savoring every little twitch and suppressed giggle.] But don’t worry—I have all night to help you... [His grin audible as his tone becomes lower and conspiratorial] come to terms with the truth. [Alastor begins to ruthlessly tickle him.]

[Sound Effect: Bed sheets rustling.]

Lucifer: [Bursting into a fit of laughter, his attempts to hold it back completely failing as his voice becomes higher-pitched with each giggle] N-Nononono, Al—st-st-stop it! [His body twists and jerks, trying to escape the relentless tickling, but he can’t stop laughing.] Th-this isn’t funny, you—hic—you’re not going to—[He lets out another startled laugh, voice cracking as he squirms helplessly.]

Alastor: [Mockingly gasping, his voice playful and light] Oh, how terrifying! The mighty Lucifer, undone by a bit of... [He pauses, drawing out the word with a chuckle] tickling. [He leans in, his voice dropping to a sly whisper as his hands continue their assault.] Admit it, darling. You love this. You’ve been begging for it without even realizing it.

Lucifer: [giggling] No- I haven’t! I don’t enjoy this! You’re just being an ass!

Alastor: [Amused, continuing his tickling] Oh, my dear Lucifer, you're absolutely adorable when you're like this. [His voice lightens, teasing with a hint of mock sympathy] What was it you said about not liking it, hmm? Sounds to me like you're thoroughly enjoying yourself—don't worry, I won’t tell anyone. [He chuckles darkly, the sound of his fingers dancing over Lucifer’s stomach now, filled with a teasing melody.]

Lucifer: [giggling] No! Nonono [squeak] not there!

Alastor: Oh, not there you say? I see, this little spot on your tummy seems particularly effective. Let’s explore that a little more, shall we? Tickle tickle tickle!

Lucifer: [giggling] S-shut up!

Alastor: What’s wrong? Do you not like that word? How unfortunate, I happen to love it! Tickle tickle tickle! Oh, you have the sweetest little giggles, don’t you Luci?

Lucifer: [giggling] I can’t! I can’t!”

Alastor: "My, my, you’re squirming so much! Are you trying to get away, or are you trying to stay close? Something tells me it’s the second option!”

Lucifer: [giggling] You’re so mean!

Alastor: [In a low, teasing voice] Mean? Why, how rude. I’m just giving you what your heart desires! You can’t deny it forever, darling. Every laugh, every squirm... it tells me everything. [He wiggles his fingers around Lucifer’s stomach, delighting in the way he reacts]

Lucifer: [giggling] [trying to push Alastor’s hands away] You— [laughing] You’re impossible! Stop it already!

Alastor: I’m yet to hear an admission from you. Alas, desperate times do call for desperate measures!

Lucifer: [squealing] Ah! Not my wings, not my wing!

Alastor: "It’s almost like I’m discovering new things about you every moment, Lucifer. Who knew you’d be so sensitive here? Tickle Tickle! Just admit that you enjoy it and I’ll cease my attack on your sensitive little spots! Or would you want me to continue, hmm? Do you want me to keep going for the rest of eternity?

Lucifer! Okay! Okay! Okay, I like it! I like it, please stop! It’s too much!

Alastor: [grinning in his voice, pulling back slightly] But darling, you’re far too cute when you’re a little... flustered. [pauses, his voice softening slightly] Though, I suppose if it’s really too much, I’ll stop. For now.

[Sound Effect: Fixing blankets]

Lucifer: [sighs deeply, but with a soft chuckle, clearly enjoying the attention despite his protest] Thank you. You were getting close to a limit, Bambi.

Alastor: [teasing tone] Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be on my best behavior... for now. [humming lightly as he settles in beside Lucifer, his voice warm and affectionate] Wouldn’t want to push my luck too much. I’m glad you enjoyed it.

Lucifer: [muttering with a slight chuckle, eyes still closed] I’m going to get you back for this, you know.

Alastor: [laughs lightly, still teasing] Oh, I’m sure you will, my dear. But for now, I think it’s time you let go and just... relax. [pauses with a softer tone] No more teasing, promise. Come, let me cuddle you to sleep.

Lucifer: [relaxing again, a quiet smile in his voice] Fine. [yawn] You’re lucky I love you.

Alastor: [smiling warmly] You aren’t wrong, my dear. I’m beyond lucky.

198 notes · View notes

tallulah477 · 1 year ago

Text

Hunting the Tawtute

Kinktober Day 19: Threesome

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader x Lo’ak

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, AgedUp!Lo’ak, Dark!Neteyam, Dark!Lo’ak, ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Primal Kink (Hunter/Prey Kink), Oral (female receiving and male receiving), P in V, Fingering, Handjob, Breath Play, Dirty Talk, Size Difference, Belly Bulge, Alien Genitalia, Slight Knife Play, Multiple Orgasms, Bukkake, Hair Pulling, Slight Humiliation, Slight Thigh Riding, Knots/Knot Play (but no actual knotting), Marking Kink/Biting

Word Count: 5.4K (of pure self-indulgent fantasy)

A/N: I don’t even know what to say about this. This one kinda like so fucking much got away from me. It’s like I went crazy, blacked out, and this happened. Hopefully some of you guys will like it too as much as I liked writing it.

Summary: When the Omatikaya raid an RDA outpost, you just barely escape the carnage with your life. You're stumbling through the forest when they find you, and the dark grins on their faces make shivers run down your spine. You try to run, but they’ll catch you - they’re little beautiful prey.

Extra: Pretty, But Not Stupid

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

Translations:

Tawtute - Human

Mountain Banshee - Large, dragon-like aerial predators

Sevin - Pretty

Vrrtep - Demon

Paskalin - Sweet Berry (term of endearment)

The ground is shaking underneath you as you run, booming with the force of the explosions and gunfire racking the now nonexistent RDA outpost. You can still hear the screaming, both war cries and cries of terror, echoing through the forest as your tired legs carry you further and further away.

You’re gasping for breath, heart feeling like it's going to pound out of your chest as you sob. You hated the RDA, they were mostly all power hungry assholes anyway, but some people in the outpost were good - innocent people who fled Earth just to get away from the horror there, only to be met with a fate possibly crueler here. All the cooks, cleaners, and medical professionals who just wanted a chance - all dead within minutes of the start of the emergency alarm that blared through the base. If not by the explosions, then currently being picked off without mercy by the Na’vi.

You’re lucky to even be alive right now.

You shake your head, trying to ignore how your heavy, panicked breathing is fogging up your mask and how you can barely see through your tears. You need to keep going. You can’t think about it now. Can’t think about the carnage you're running from and the people you’re leaving behind. You need to find safety.

You run a little further, trying not to trip on any more upturned roots. You fell over one a little ways back, and your ankle protests the more weight you put on it, but the fear of being found and killed keeps you going. You quickly round another tree and stop, bracing your hand on the bark of the massive trunk and lifting your hurt ankle up a bit just to relieve the pressure for a moment. Your eyes hurriedly scan the area, trying to keep an eye out for danger you wouldn’t even be able to defend yourself against. Even if you did have some kind of a weapon (which you don’t, you barely had enough time to sprint away with your life as it was, let alone grab any kind of form of defense), you wouldn’t be able to win against the strength and prowess of one of the natives anyway.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips when your eye catches movement a few trees down from you. There’s a male Na’vi standing there, long braids still swinging around his shoulders from his abrupt movement, and he has an arrow notched and pulled back, strong muscles and chest bulging behind the bow as he steadies the arrow - the arrow that’s pointed directly at you.

“Wait!” You yell, hands instinctively coming up to protect your face as if they could ever stop the Na’vi sized arrow. “Wait! Please, don’t shoot!”

The male stops, curious amber eyes locked on your trembling figure, and to your complete shock, he lowers the arrow. Why isn’t he killing you? The Na’vi kill humans on sight, they don’t hesitate. You should have been dead the second he saw you. But you’re not. He lowered his arrow, and for a brief moment relief and hope flood your chest.

“I mean you no harm,” You call, voice shaking. “Please, don’t k-kill me,”

The male tilts his head at you and you watch cautiously as he puts his bow away, reattaching it to his back, before reaching up to touch his throat. From this distance you can just see the outline of a necklace. A throat comm, you think. He has his fingers pressed against the buttons and you can’t hear what he’s saying, but you see his lips moving as he talks to whoever is on the other line.

A dark smirk curls at his lips as he speaks. He’s looking directly at you and whatever hope you had disappears as dread fills your entire being.

You are going to die.

You can’t stay here, staying still even as he’s watching you is a risk. If you’re going to die, you’re at least going to go down trying to live.

You turn to run, making it just a few steps away from the tree before the canopy bursts above you, a roaring shriek piercing your ears as a large blue and purple mountain banshee descends down towards the forest floor. You scream, falling back on your ass as the dragon-like animal lands just feet from you, the wind from its strong wings beating over your body and making your hair whip around your face.

The banshee’s rider descends from its back, landing on the ground with a thud and disconnecting his neural queue from the animal. He stalks towards you, golden eyes gleaming behind a few loose braids falling in front of them, and he grins, long pointed canines biting into his bottom lip.

“Where you running to, sevin tawtute?”

With another terrified sob, you scramble to your feet. The second Na’vi’s low chuckle, despite being fairly quiet, rings loudly in your ears, and you can hear the footsteps of the first’s getting closer and closer to you each second.

“Don’t do it,” The second warns, and you don’t even have the mental capacity to realize that he’s speaking to you in English. You’re already spinning and darting away in the opposite direction.

You run as fast as you can through the dense Pandorian forest. They’re chasing you, you can hear their footsteps pounding against the forest floor behind you. They mock you, first just making quick yipping and whooping calls, communicating with each other in a way you would never even begin to understand. And then they switch to your language.

“Better run faster, human!”

“Getting tired already, baby?”

“Can you feel my breath on the back of your pretty neck?”

“We’re going to get you!”

Your sobs get louder, terrified as you try to push yourself harder. They sound so close, like they’re right behind you, like they could just reach out and grab you. But they don’t. They’re playing with you. They’re faster than you, their legs significantly longer than yours and more adept at running and navigating the forest terrain. They’re letting you keep going on purpose, finding glee in your terror and enjoyment in chasing their prey.

Your ankle is aching, pain shooting from the twisted limb, and your running is quickly turning into panicked hobbling. You can’t do it anymore. Can’t do it - they’re going to get you. Without thinking, you dive under a slightly uprooted tree - the tilt of the base giving you just enough room to crawl under the trunk, thick roots caging you in and separating you from the two male Na’vi.

The second you make it through, there’s a burst of movement as the long haired male slides in front of the opening, long arm sticking through the roots and reaching for you. You whimper when his fingers brush your mask and you try to scoot yourself further back against the dirt, but there isn’t much room.

“Come out of there,” He says, voice soft like he’s trying to coax you out, but the underlining reverb of a growl taints the attempt. “It’s dangerous under there,”

“Yes, tawtute,” The other says, long legs visible from behind his brother’s upper body. “Much safer out here with us,”

You can’t help the anger and frustration that wells inside you as you hear the absolute lie they are trying to tell you.

“Bullshit,” You spit.

The long haired male removes his reaching arm and peers at you through the roots, eyes alight with mirth. “Oh, you hear that, brother? Our little vrrtep has a mouth on her,”

The other male chuckles and squats down to peer at you through your self imposed cage. “And what a pretty mouth it is. Can’t wait to see what else it can do,”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. That sounded . . . suggestive. That couldn’t possibly mean what it sounded like, right?

“What do you say, sevin? Want your gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock?” He asks, playful fingers lifting up the front of his loincloth slightly as if to tease you. And then, suddenly, there’s a new fear taking over.

They don’t want to catch you to kill you - they want you.

“My name is Lo’ak,” He continues, lifting his hand from his loincloth to wiggle his fingers at you in greeting. Five fingers, you notice. “You know, just so you know what to scream out later when I’m fucking you,”

More tears well up in your eyes, cascading down your flushed cheeks. “P-please. Don’t hurt m-me,” You beg, wide eyes pleading with the large blue men holding you hostage to show you mercy. “I’ll leave! I promise! You’ll never see me again,”

“She begs so beautifully already,” The other male says, nudging his brother’s arm. “She’s gonna sound so good when she’s crying in pleasure. Go ahead and try it out for me, paskalin. Let me hear you say it: Neteyam,”

Neteyam looks at her expectantly, golden green eyes dark from where his pupils have nearly completely taken over.

“Fuck you,” You hiss. You try to put as much malice and ferocity in your words as you can muster, but Neteyam only grins at your curse.

“Yeah, tawtute. That’s the idea,”

Lo’ak suddenly moves, shifting over to the side of the tree and you panic at the abrupt movement, scrambling over and pressing your back against the roots on the opposite side just to be as far from him as possible.

“Come on out, baby,” He purrs, eyes hooded as he stares at you. “Don’t you want to take a ride? Feel some big alien cock in your pretty, tiny pussy?”

You open your mouth again to shoot some more choice expletives at him, but all that comes out is a scream when the roots behind you rip and a large hand grips at your hair, dragging your body from its hiding spot and into the dimming light of the forest.

Neteyam hauls you up on your feet, fist tangled in your hair keeping you from running and grabs one of your swinging arms, pinning it behind your back. Lo’ak steps in front of you, tall and imposing at nearly twice your height, but you still try to fight, fight for your life and your freedom, and your hand smacks as hard as it can against his hip.

It doesn’t do anything to him obviously, you’re not even sure if he felt it, but all the fight leaves you in an instant when the large knife the size of your forearm waves in your face.

“You’re gonna be a good girl for us now, okay?” He says, tapping the glass of your mask with the tip of his knife as if he were trying to boop your nose. The tip of the knife travels down your neck, over your collarbone, and towards the center of your chest. If you were able to think correctly, you would be amazed at the control he has over the blade to not let it cut you despite your chest heaving with your frantic breathing. “Stay still now,”

The knife travels towards the valley between your breasts, taking the neck of your t-shirt with it and pulling it down and down until Lo’ak just cleanly slices through the whole front of it. Neteyam releases your arm now that you're not fighting against them anymore, but still keeps a firm grip on your hair. The ruined shirt slips from your shoulders and Lo’ak brings the knife back up to hook underneath the band of your bra, slicing through the material like it was paper and pushing the remnants of that off of your body as well.

“Such a pretty little thing,” He muses, running the flat of the blade across one of your exposed breasts, the cool metal making you shiver as it presses against your heated skin. Lo’ak twists the knife and places the very tip of it at your nipple. The sharp edge makes you gasp, the bud starting to harden immediately at the feeling and you can’t help but feel mortified when you feel wetness pool in your panties.

Lo’ak’s nose twitches, a wicked grin pulling at his lips as his large amber eyes catch yours, but it’s Neteyam that digs the metaphorical knife deeper, furthering your humiliation and making your face burn.

“Aw, is the cute little tawtute getting wet for us? We can smell you,” Neteyam laughs, dragging your head back further so he can get a good look at your face. “Look, brother. Look how flushed she’s getting,”

“You think that flush is going all the way down here?” Lo’ak asks, the tip of the knife leaving your nipple to tease your clit over your shorts.

“Rip them off and find out,” Neteyam suggests, and you start to wriggle again in his unrelenting grasp.

“Wait!” You shout. Your neck is still craned up towards the sky, so you only feel rather than see Lo’ak undo your button and zipper. “Wait, please. I’ll do anything,”

“Yeah,” Neteyam agrees, looking down at your pleading face. His fingers latch onto one of your hard nipples and pulls on it, eliciting a sharp gasp from your plump lips. “You will,”

In an instant, Lo’ak yanks your shorts and panties down and Neteyam moves behind you to kneel on the forest floor, one knee pressing into the ground while the other acts as a stabilizer, foot flat against the ground. Neteyam’s grip on your hair is released as he grabs you by your hips instead, pulling you up to sit on his thigh, bare pussy pressing against the bulging muscles.

The feeling of his muscles tensing under you makes more heat pool in your stomach, and your pussy is wet and sticky already as you squirm against him. Your legs fall on either side of his and even with him kneeling your feet still can’t touch the ground, toes just barely brush against the grass and only if you’re actually stretching to reach it. But the additional stretch just makes you push your cunt harder against his thigh and you whimper, not knowing what to do or how to move.

Neteyam wraps a restraining arm around your chest, trapping one of your arms under his and grabbing onto your other bicep, his large hand practically spanning the entirety of your upper arm and pinning it down. His other hand moves up to his mouth, long middle finger sliding between his lips, licking the long digit and pulling it out when it’s wet and glistening in the setting sunlight. He brings his wet finger to your core, dipping it between your folds and circling your clit.

“So wet already, tawtute,” He whispers, lips brushing against the curve of your ear.

You whimper as he rubs you, dipping his finger down lower to gather more of your wetness and dragging it back up to tease small circles around your pulsing nub. When his fingers trail down again, it's to press at your entrance, and you can’t help the whiny moan that escapes you as his finger slips easily inside your leaking hole.

Lo’ak’s been watching you this whole time, crouching down to get a good, clear look at your glistening pink cunt, and the sight of his brother’s finger sliding inside of you prompts him to have some fun of his own. He stands, fingers moving quickly to untie his loincloth, the material loosening and sliding down his legs, flittering to the ground below him.

You’re distracted, Neteyam’s finger is rubbing against your gummy walls, sliding in and out effortlessly while his thumb plays with your clit, so you don’t realize what’s so wrong with Lo’ak’s body until he’s directly in front of you - naked pelvis and even more naked center only a foot away from your face.

Your eyes widen as you look at it, confusion written all over your face as you stare at the empty, flat space where his member should be. Lo’ak laughs at the bewildered look on your face and Neteyam mouths at your shoulder to hide his own grin.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” Lo’ak says. “I’ve got plenty of cock for you. It’s just hidden. I’ll get it out for you since you're a little tied up.”

His fingers reach down to rub at the empty space and you watch in fascinated awe as he plays down there, fingers pressing in harder and sliding against the hidden slit you hadn’t seen before. His fingers dip inside, eyes closing in pleasure for a moment before they flick back open, sultry hooded orbs locked on your own.

“What the f–ahh!” You cry, eyes squeezing shut, back arching in pleasure against Neteyam as another of his fingers pushes inside you. They’re long enough on their own, the combined thickness enough to feel like a cock inside you already.

When your eyes open again, they lock immediately on what’s happening between Lo’ak’s legs. There’s something poking out from the slit and it takes your scared and pleasure hazed brain way too long to realize it’s his cock. It’s just the head peeking out, the mushroomed lavender tip like a bright, slick beacon between his dark blue thighs. He grins when your mouth falls open at the sight, fingers dipping back into his wet slit and pulling out another inch.

Every inch of his cock has your eyes widening, the long and hard length now fully unsheathed and bumping against his belly. Blue skin and even darker stripes litter the shaft, small bioluminescent freckles scatter towards the top and lead to the light purple tip. A fleeting thought has you thinking it's pretty, the colors blending in beautifully with one another, but when you see the textured bumps decorating the entire length, the panic hits you again.

“Let me go!” You scream, fighting against Neteyam’s hold, but hold is firm. “It won’t fit! You can’t! It won’t fit!”

“That’s why we have to stretch you out first,” Neteyam mutters, mouth pressed against your shoulder. His third finger nudges at your entrance and you stop breathing when it pushes against your already stuffed hole. The stretch is intense, your small body struggling to take the invasion as his long finger pushes in beside the others. His thumb rubs lovingly at your clit, distracting you from the stretch and working up the pressure starting to build in your belly.

Lo’ak strokes at his cock, shuffling forward until the weeping tip of it is inches from your face.

“You wanna taste it?” He asks, his other hand gripping onto the bottom of your mask.

You whimper, terrified at the prospect of him pulling your mask off, but can’t get out anything more than a stuttering, “P-please,”

“Be a good girl and hold your breath for me,”

There’s a loud hiss of air as the seal around your face breaks, and then you can’t breathe. Can’t even make a sound when he pulls the mask halfway up your face to free your mouth, letting the bottom of it sit below your nose as he pushes his fingers into the hinges of your jaw to pry your mouth open.

The lavender tip of his cock pushes between your lips, the underside dragging along your tongue. You can feel every bump and ridge as it pushes in further, the texture both unusual and intimidating as it slides against the warm wet muscle.

And then it’s gone, your mask replaced and the burst of oxygen rushing into your lungs makes you feel even more lightheaded than without having any oxygen at all.

“Good girl,” Lo’ak coos, hand once again gripping the bottom of your mask and leaning down to press a sweet kiss against its glass.

Neteyam’s fingers are still working themselves in and out of your stuffed pussy, and you see Lo’ak’s ears twitch a second before you even hear it: the horrible squelching sounds your pussy is making as it rocks against his three fingers.

“Such a good girl,” He grins. He stands up, holding his cock steady and pulling your mask up again, the hiss of air mingling with the wet sounds coming from your drenched cunt. “Let’s go again,”

His cock pushes inside of your mouth again, barbed length sliding against your tongue and nudging the back of your throat. You gag, choking from both lack of oxygen and Lo’ak’s thick cock, and you can barely register the light and strangely sweet taste of his precum as it coats your tastebuds.

Neteyam’s fingers are ruthless inside of you, curling and dragging against your gummy walls with skilled expertise and his thumb is practically a blur on your clit. When Lo’ak replaces your mask and air once again fills your lungs, it's only there for a second before you’re screaming and gasping, the coil in your stomach almost too much to bear as it tightens, threatening to rip you apart when it snaps.

Your screaming is cut off again when Lo’ak lifts the mask away, shoving his cock harder and deeper into your mouth until the glass of your mask is pressing against his pelvis and his cock has slipped down your throat. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you take it, legs shaking against Neteyam’s thigh. When it's replaced this time and air is once again allowed into your lungs, Neteyam’s teeth latch onto your shoulder, sharp canines digging into the tender skin. The bite brings about a sharp pain immediately followed by a flood of intense pleasure - your body jerks in his hold, shaking violently as the coil in your belly snaps. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, gushing against his hand as your orgasm rips through you without mercy.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Lo’ak grunts, fisting his cock with one hand while checking to make sure your mask is secure with the other.

You mumble a weak reply, but the words don’t make sense, they don’t even sound like real words to your own ears - and your ‘not words’ turn into a forlorn whine as Neteyam pulls his fingers from your still pulsing pussy.

He tilts your upper body to the side, sliding most of you off of him except for your leg still draped over his thigh at the knee while your other foot presses onto the ground, leaving you spread wide. His free hand falls behind you, somewhere around his hip where you can’t see, and then something large and round shaped is nudging between your folds and prodding at your entrance.

“No,” You mewl. “Won’t fit,”

“Shh, be quiet, ma sevin tawtute,” He grunts, pressure pushing at your hole as he starts forwards. “It will fit,”

You take in gasping breaths as the pressure intensifies, dripping hole resisting the push as much as it can before relenting to the large male Na’vi’s wishes and the thick mushroom head of his cock pops inside. Neteyam groans when he breaches you, unwrapping his arm from your upper body and gripping both of your thighs with his large hands, hauling you up and in the air as he stands up.

Your back is pressed tightly against his chest, thighs spread open and vulnerable to Lo’ak’s hungry gaze as gravity pushes you down further on his brother’s cock. You whimper loudly, hands desperately gripping at Neteyam’s forearms as he impales you on him. The bumps on his cock drag without mercy against your sensitive walls, and your right leg shakes in his grip from the overwhelming intensity.

It feels so good, so devastatingly good inside of you, the barbs and ridges sliding just right against your gummy walls and you toss your head back with a silent scream as he bottoms out, tip nudging against your cervix.

You’ve never felt so full before. It feels like he’s all the way in your stomach, cock barreling through your important organs and rearranging your guts just to make enough room for him to fit. You chance a look down, letting out a wailing cry that’s half pleasure, half horror when you see the large bulge protruding from your abdomen.

“Fuck,” Neteyam moans. “She’s so tight,”

Lo’ak grins mischievously as Neteyam lowers his mouth to the side of your neck, pressing gentle kisses there as he starts to rock into you. One moment he’s in front of your face, sending you a cheeky wink when you gasp as the cock inside of you hits just the right angle to brush against your special spot, and then the next he’s crouching down, textured tongue lolling out of his mouth and licking against your swollen clit.

You squeal at the feeling of his rough tongue, textured similarly to that of a cat’s, lapping at the sensitive nub.

“T-too much!” You cry. You can’t close your legs, Neteyam’s hands holding them firmly open as he thrusts harder inside you, and your hands push against Lo’ak’s head, but he doesn’t budge - large head staying put while his tongue continues to swipe against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

When Lo’ak decides he’s had enough, he lifts his head, trailing kisses up your stomach starting just above the disappearing and reappearing bulge in your belly and up your chest, tongue laving over the swell of your breast and latching onto your nipple, sharp teeth nibbling on the hard bud as you yelp.

His lips wrap around it, suckling on it for a moment before pulling off with a pop.

“You taste so good, baby,” He murmurs, reaching down to play with your clit. “Like the sweetest little treat,”

“Feel so good, paskalin,” Neteyam grunts, lifting your body up and slamming it back down on his cock to fuck into your harder. “Snug little pussy squeezing me so well. You were made to take Na’vi cock, weren’t you?”

“Oohh my goooooood,” You moan, eyes rolling back into your head from the overwhelming stimulation. “C-can’t t-take i-itt,”

“Sure you can,” Lo’ak teases, face so close to yours that in your haze all you can see is his bright golden eyes. “Didn’t you hear what he just said?”

Neteyam’s thrusts are getting sloppy, moans and grunts a constant source behind you, and he hisses a quick “Fuck, take her,” at his brother. Before you know what’s happening, you’re suddenly pressed against Lo’ak, chest pressed tightly against his and Neteyam releases one of your thighs in favor of gripping your hip. Lo’ak’s hand cradles your released thigh instead, keeping you steady against him as his brother uses his new found leverage to pound into your tight cunt. Your arms instinctively wrap around Lo’ak’s neck, holding on for dear life as you moan and whimper loudly with the cool glass of your mask pressed against his collarbone.

You can feel the knot in your belly tightening again, and you can’t think about anything other than how impossibly full you feel and how good the ridges and bumps on his cock feel as they scrap and drag inside of you. Neteyam’s grip turns bruising, fingers digging into your hip and thigh as he fucks you harder.

“Who’s pussy is this?” Neteyam growls, mushroomed tip pounding into your cervix. “Go on, tawtute. Say it!”

“Neteyaaamm,” You moan. “Please, please, please,”

Distantly, even through your hazy, fucked out brain, you can feel something thick and round prodding at your entrance, bumping and stretching you out even more with each thrust. You cum, sobbing as you contract tightly around him, body shaking in Lo’ak’s hold as his large hand rubs up and down your back soothingly.

Neteyam pulls out of you with a tortured groan and your eyes flutter shut, pussy still contracting and squeezing and wanting - wanting his long, hard length inside of you again, wanting it splitting you open, and now that it's gone, you can’t believe how empty you feel.

Lo’ak lowers you gently to the ground, resting your exhausted body on the soft moss. You feel the way he pulls your thighs apart again, settling himself between them, what’s left of the setting sunlight filtering in behind your eyelids getting blocked as he hovers over you.

“Stay awake, vrrtep,” He says, smacking your thigh lightly to wake you back up. Your heavy eyes peel themselves open, watching as Lo’ak braces one hand above your head while the other guides his cock to your core. You whimper as he drags the head of his cock through your dripping folds, teasing the tip against your clit before running it down your slit and lining it up with your entrance. “It’s my turn,”

The slide is easier this time as he pushes in, but still no less intense. Your tired and overstimulated body tenses at the intrusion, tightening around him as he spears you open with his thick girth.

“Such a pretty demon,” He moans, pleasure shooting through his veins at the feel of your tiny body hugging his cock like it never wants to let him go. “Tempting us the way you did,”

His hips start up a gentle tempo, rocking inside you to help you get used to his size and letting you feel the pleasurable drag of his barbs against your oversensitive walls.

You whine, denying his comment. “D-didn’t do anyth–”

He silences you with a sharp snap of his hips, upping the rhythm of his thrusts and leaning down further so his pubic bone grinds against your clit with each thrust. Already you can feel another orgasm barreling towards you, threatening to rip you apart the same way his cock is splitting you open.

“Fuck!” You squeal, back arching as your pussy squelches between your bodies. “Oh my god, fuck!”

“Say my name, baby,” Lo’ak grunts. “Wanna hear you moan it,”

“Looo’aaaaak,” You moan, bliss clouding your judgment as your hips buck into his in return.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Neteyam, standing just to the side, watching as his brother fucks your very soul from your body as his hand strokes along his raging length. Your eyes catch on something unusual towards the base of his cock - a thick, round bulb that shouldn’t be there and he smirks as he sees you gaping at it, hand stroking down to the base and squeezing the thick engorged knot of tissue tightly, moaning at the sensation.

Lo’ak thrusts in you harder and you feel that same thick, round ball bumping at your entrance that you felt when Neteyam was fucking you. The same bulbish ball of tissue that must be the same as the one you're looking at right now.

“Great Mother,” Lo’ak groans, face scrunched up in pleasure. “I wanna knot you so fucking bad,”

“Don’t,” Neteyam growls, jerking forward as if to pull his brother away from you, but Lo’ak curls his body around yours protectively, a deep hiss of warning ripping from his throat as he bares his teeth at his brother.

Neteyam freezes, hands up in surrender but he glares at the brother inside you all the same. “Don’t. We don’t know if her body can take it yet.”

Lo’ak grunts, resuming his thrusts. “I know. Just back off,”

His cock pounds you relentlessly, kissing your cervix and his hand reaches down to caress the bulge in your belly. He presses down on the bulging bump firmly at the same time that his teeth sink into the still unmarked side of your neck, making you scream, the blissful agonized cry echoing through the forest as you cream all over his cock.

He pulls out, groaning woefully like his brother did, and fists his cock furiously, aiming the leaking tip directly at your puffy, spent pussy. Neteyam does the same, crouching low and close, stroking his cock beside you as he aims for your chest.

They cum within seconds of one another, shooting hot, thick stripes of pearly bioluminescent cum all over your body, covering your chest and lower half with their release.

You can barely feel your body anymore, can’t move a single limb on your own, and, despite not having any use of anything, your body won’t stop shaking - oversensitive and overstimulated and completely satisfied in a way you never thought you could be.

“Ready to head home, sevin tawtute?” Neteyam asks, breathing heavy as he recovers from his orgasm. He just came but his eyes are still dark and sinful, looking at you like he wants to eat you whole. Your exhausted eyes flick to Lo’ak only to see the same desirous expression.

There’s a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach as you close your eyes, listening to their dark chuckles as your body forces you to rest. The last thing you hear before you drift off to sleep is a low, deep voice say . . .

“You’re ours now,”

Extra>>>

**Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife

#lunaskinktober2023 #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam x human reader #lo'ak x female reader #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak smut #lo'ak x human reader #neteyam x reader x lo'ak #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent #tw: non con

3K notes · View notes