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roanofarcc · 5 months ago

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LIKE MOTHER LIKE FATHER LIKE DAUGHTER

pairing. tyler owens x harding!reader - part 2!

summary. you had made a name for yourself in the storm chasing game; it was in your genes, being the daughter of famous chasers jo and bill harding. tyler found your knacked for knowing just what the storm’s thinking a little infuriating and incredibly impressive.

warnings. fem!reader, reader gets injured, mentions of blood and injuries, probably inaccurate meteorological info & medical info, angst & fluff, some hurt/comfort on this fine Tuesday night.

word count. 3.7k || masterlist

a/n. twister has been my favorite movie FOREVER so here's a little homage to the og storm chasers <3

You were ten when you went storm chasing for the first time. Growing up, you’d heard your parents' stories every time there was a shift in the weather. Instead of the typical childhood fear of storms, you had always been fascinated by them; your dad, Bill Harding often joked it was in your genes, the lack of fear. With some light convincing of your mom, Dr. Jo Haring, she agreed to take you storm chasing for your tenth birthday.

The twister had been small, barely an EF1, but it was wondrous. There was something dangerously beautiful about it that drew you in just as it had your parents when they were younger. From that point on, you knew you wanted to be just like them, chasing storms up and down Tornado Alley.

And with the stubbornness passed down by your mom, that is exactly what you did. You were damn good at it to.

“It’s lookin’ like a big one to the southeast,” a member of your team said, slugging an arm around your shoulder as she looked up at the sky, squinting slightly at the sun. “But the radar says we’ve got another brewin’ west. She's pickin’ up speed but it’s still developing.”

You hummed in response, gazing up at the sky too, judging which one was your best bet by observing the clouds in either direction. “Let’s hang back and go for the one to the west, I like her chances better.” Your teammate, Frankie, grinned as she nodded and headed off toward the other three members of your small, but mighty team.

As you waited for the storm to flesh out a little more, you sat on the bed of your truck, dangling your legs off of the tailgate. The fresh air filled your lungs and the faint smell of incoming rain brought a smile to your lips. Every time you got ready for a chase, you felt ten years old again, giddy and excited for the thrill of the storm. You thought back to the photo albums you’d looked at a hundred times over of your parents and their numerous storm-chasing adventures. They never pushed you into storm chasing, as it was a dangerous line of work, but from a very young age, it was clear that your fascination with storms wouldn’t be quelled with a simple meteorology degree and a job behind a desk.

Storm chasing was in your blood, and your knack for it was known among other storm chasers.

“Well, if it isn’t the doctor herself,” a familiar voice filled your ears, belonging to the one and only Tyler Owens. He approached your truck, hands on his hips and a certain cockiness that excited you. You liked a challenge, and you loved showing cowboys up. Tyler was good at what he did, but you were just a little bit better, and it both irritated and impressed him.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” you said, earning a light chuckle from him.

“You don’t look in a hurry. That storm to the southeast won’t last forever.” You shrugged and he narrowed his gaze just slightly. “You’re not going after that one, are you?”

“Damn,” you sighed. “You’re getting harder to trick, Owens.”

He laughed, light and sweet. It was easy to see how he garnered such a large online audience. Tyler was easy on the eyes, drove straight into tornados with a grin on his lips, and had the knowledge of storms to back up his insane behavior. You’d never admit it aloud, but he did impress you, even if you thought some of his actions were reckless even for a storm chaser.

The two of you had an interesting rapport. It toes the line between rivals and friends, the odd territory in between. You loved teasing him, and he tried to outsmart you even if it never worked.

“Maybe you’re getting too predictable,” he said, a teasing tone in his voice.

“Och.” You faked hurt, placing a hand over your heart. “What is it you always say? If you feel it, chase it. If you think the one to the southeast is gonna show her face, go for it.”

Tyler studied you for a moment, contemplating what kind of game you were playing with him. All you did was smile at him in return, which led him to roll his eyes. “Unfortunately, you’re rarely wrong,” he sighed.

“It’s a blessing and curse.”

“You’re impossible,” he said. “But the west it is. It better not let me down, Dr. Harding.” You only used that title in more professional settings. That had been a condition of your mother. She had gotten her PhD and believed you could too. It was tough, but you earned it; only, you didn’t expect some cowboy to use it to lightly mock you when you proved him wrong.

“You have my word,” you said.

And you were right. The storm to the west produced a beautiful tornado. You and Frankie got close while the rest of your team hung back. Rain pelted the windshield as you grew closer, watching the dark funnel tear through the expanse of fields, picking up speed on the ground. Somewhere along the way, Tyler’s unmistakable red truck ripped past you, heading into the heart of the twister, which you rolled your eyes at.

“She’s a beauty!” Frankie hollered, holding her camera at the ready.

It was a great chase, but the thing about tornados that was both thrilling and dangerous was their unpredictability. You knew the storm would be big, and the closer you grew the more power you saw that it had. The other truck carrying the rest of your team had communicated the growing intensity of the storm via the radio. But it looked to be on a steady path west, so you saw no issue tailing it while Frankie snapped pictures.

The rain only grew heavier and heavier, almost completely obstructing your view. It wasn’t until a tree crash landed directly in the middle of the road did you realize the tornado had changed directions suddenly. A startled scream torn from Frankie lips and you slammed on the breaks, narrowly missing the tree.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, leaning up against the dash and trying to see through the rain wrap. “It’s right there. It’s right there! We gotta go!”

You quickly threw your truck in reverse and backed up, but you didn’t get far. A lone semi that had been traveling skidded to a stop just a couple hundred feet behind you. The way they had stopped at the sight of the tornado left its trailer sideways across the road before it was abandoned by the figure hunkering down in the ditch that lined the backroad.

You hissed under your breath, trapped between two objects and a tornado that shook your truck. There wasn’t enough space to fly around the semi. The ditches on either side of the road were too deep to take quickly and another minute trying to maneuver around the semi would only lead to your truck getting swallowed by the storm, picked up, and tossed around like a rag doll.

Your parents had prepared you for a kind of situation like that, but that didn’t shake your panic. With a rapidly beating heart, you put the truck in park and yelled at Frankie to get out. You both stepped out into the storm as the tornado loomed closer and closer. Wind whipped all around you along with debris. You grabbed Frankie’s hand and together you sprinted toward the ditch.

Frankie lay on her stomach, and you lay beside her, covering her head the best that you could. Whatever happened, you had always told yourself your teammates' safety came first. You were the one who talked them into storm chasing with you. So, when danger arose, you felt the responsibility of keeping them safe.

The screeching of winds was so loud in your ears that it almost disoriented you enough to miss the sharp piece of debris that swooped down at the tornado that passed along the field just opposite of the ditch, not directly over top of you but much too close for comfort. Something smacked against the back of your head, but you closed your eyes and held onto Frankie in hope of shielding her from any other flying objects.

You weren’t sure how long you two lied there, but it felt like a lifetime until the tornado traveled further away. The winds died down but your heart beat stayed quickly pounding against your chest.

Sitting up, you felt the sharp sting settling in the back of your head, but you ignored it at the sight of Frankie’s cut leg.

“Shit,” you muttered, grabbing her knee to examine the clean slice down the back of her shin.

She wiped back the wet pieces of her hair and let out a shuttered breath. “Holy shit, that was crazy.” You pulled off your sweatshirt and wrapped the wet fabric around her shin. “What’re you doing?”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s fine,” she said, trying to brush it off, but you heard the pain in her voice, along with the tremble of lingering fear at your close call. You knew the dangers of storm chasing and the possibilities of injuries, but it always felt different to you when it was a member of your team, one of your friends.

A couple minutes after you tied your sweatshirt around her shin and helped her up from the ditch, the truck carrying the rest of your teammates rolled up, hooting and hollering at the size of the storm until they saw the state the two of you were in.

“Take her back to the motel. If the bleeding doesn’t stop take her to the hospital.” Frankie opened her mouth to protest, but you cut her off. “I’m serious.”

“What about you?” another member of your team asked.

You looked down the road at your overturned truck, sighing sadly to yourself as the pain in the back of your head throbbed. “I’ve gotta call someone for my truck. I’ll meet you back at the motel later.”

They were hesitant to leave you but eventually agreed. Down the debris-littered road, you hobbled back to your truck. It had been a gift from your parents after you graduated college; it was special to you, but it was totaled thanks to the tornado.

With a groan, you heaved open the door and tried to gather your belongings, but a wave of dizziness washed over you. You staggered backward, reaching up to touch the tender spot on the back of your head. Something wet coated your fingers and when you pulled your hand back, it was painted red. Frustrated, you tried to take a deep breath and calm yourself down enough to find your cell phone. Unfortunately, the cut was a little worse than you wanted to admit, and you felt blood drip down the back of your neck.

Dizzily, you sat down on the road, blinking back the pain and wooziness. A slow creep of panic started to take hold as the pain intensified and the world started to spin just slightly.

With one hand placed firmly on the back of your head, you rubbed your temple with your other, trying to think clearly but it became increasingly more difficult. You missed the hum of an engine nearby, but a slam of a door startled you.

“Harding!” Someone yelled and you blinked slowly, keeping a hold on the back of your head as you looked up to see Tyler Owens bee-lining right toward you. He kneeled in front of you, brows furrowed and lips pulled in a small frown. “Hey, are you all right?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, once again trying to push away the dizziness that plagued you. “I’m, uh, just looking for my phone. I gotta call someone for my truck.” The words felt heavy in your mouth, which couldn’t be a good sign. Whatever struck the back of your head hit it hard and the blood that leaked from the wound wasn’t helping.

He studied you for a moment, his gaze landing on your hand pressed against the back of your head. “You hurt?” You started to shake your head, but that only caused little black dots to temporarily pepper your vision. Tyler wasn’t an idiot; he reached up and carefully pushed your hand back, stopping when he saw the blood that started to drip down your arm. He cursed under his breath and yelled something at whoever sat in the passenger seat of his truck.

“Hey.” His voice became soft, comforting even. “We’ve gotta get you to a hospital.”

“I’m fine,” you inisted, even though every thing you felt inside your body proved that to be untrue. You just hated not being able to do something yourself; you hated needing help. Your father said you interited that from your mother, while she said you got it from your father. Truth was, they both had their air of stubbornness and you was born with double.

Tyler shook his head. “No, you’re not.” He stood to his feet and gently tugged on your arm in an attempt to help you stand. Begrudgingly, you let him help you. Standing up, the world spun faster and you felt panic swell uncomfortably in your chest. You swayed catching yourself on Tyler’s arms as they grabbed your shoulders. “I’ve got you,” he said. Maybe it was your slightly disoriented state, but his assurance and hands firmly holding onto your arms made some of your panic recoil. As much as you wanted to be okay, you knew that was not the case.

He knew that too, and helped you into the passenger seat of his truck before he instructed one of his fellow Wranglers to keep pressure on the back of your head with whatever they could find in the backseat. You winced as a crumbled up shirt was held against your head, but the moving truck overwhelmed you with dizziness that made the physical pain of your wound the least of your worries. You didn’t want to pass out but your eyes felt heavy.

Tyler noticed it too, and placed a hand on your knee, giving it a squeeze and a shake. “You gotta stay with me, okay? You gotta stay awake.”

“M’trying,” you muttered.

“You were right about the storm,” he said. “But aren’t you always?”

A pained smile fell across your lips. “Was that a compliment?”

He laughed, driving quickly down the road with one hand gripping the wheel tightly. “Yeah. You’re hard to say something bad about. You know your stuff, better than me, that’s for sure.”

“My parents taught me,” you said, desperately trying to keep yourself consciousness, but it grew more difficult by the minute.

“Do they still chase?” he asked.

“Not much anymore. Sometimes if a storm’s close, they’ll take a drive. But they always say they’ve had their fun.” They also said they shared enough close calls to know it was time to hang it up. You know they worried you’d find yourself in one too, but you’d always been careful and rarely got yourself into a situation you couldn’t get out of, until now, that was.

Darkness encroached on your vision, threatening to force your eyes closed. Some the backseat, you heard one of the Wrangles call Tyler’s name. He turned his head, but you couldn’t see the concerningly red-soaked shirt that made his stomach churn and caused him to press down on the gas harder. Your head lulled to the side and your eyes fluttered close. Vaguely, you heard Tyler call your name and felt him shake your knee, but you couldn’t open your eyes or open your mouth. Everything fell dark.

Tyler had spent his fair share of time in hospitals. He’d been bucked off a bull more than once, resulting in his mother dragging him to the hospital and threatening to make him quit. Eventually she held to her threat when he shattered his nose and gained a nasty concussion.

Being at the hospital for himself was one thing, being there for you made him realize why his mother used to be drenched in worry. He nervously drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair in the hospital room. You were asleep, a fresh bandage wrapped around your head and with a minor concussion. The cut on the back of your head required a couple stitches; you were lucky, all things considered, but Tyler really hated seeing you like that.

To him, you’d always been unreal. A second generation storm chaser so accomplished. Not only did you know your stuff, it was clear how much you enjoyed it. You lit up at the sight of storms, and Tyler couldn’t help but be in awe. There was a competitive nature to storm chasing and as much as he wanted to be annoyed by you always being two steps ahead of him, he couldn’t. He was just impressed.

Tyler wasn’t sure how or when that admiration turned into something that teetered on affection, but it felt more than it had been before seated at your hospital bedside. He’d never felt his stomach drop like that before, when you passed out in his truck, Boone holding a bloodied shirt to you head. Even after the doctor said you’d be just fine, he felt on edge.

The door to your room was pushed open by a nurse who led in two more people, who he instantly recognized: The Hardings.

He stood up quickly and watched as your mom rushed to your side, brushing a hand across your cheek with a deep frown. “Oh, baby girl,” she sighed.

The nurse offered your concerned parents a polite smile. “As the doctor said, the concussion was minor so all she need is some rest for the couple of days to a week. She should wake up soon and we'll see how she’s doing, then the doctor will let you know when she can be discharged.”

You dad rubbed your mom’s back like he was trying to ease the heavy worry that shined in her face, but he too looked just as worried with a crease across his forehead.

Tyler lightly cleared his throat, gaining your parents’ attention. "Hello, ma'am, sir," he greeted them.

“You must be the one who brought her in,” Jo said, and Tyler nodded in response. “Thank you. We’d been trying to call her, after we saw that storm, but she never answered and I…I just had a bad feeling.”

Bill rubbed the light stubble on his chin. “No wonder she’s knocked out; I don’t think you’d get here otherwise. Stubborn, that kid.”

A found smile spread across Tyler’s lips. “She kept saying she was fine until she nearly passed out on me. We only got a couple miles before she did pass out; scared the life out of me,” he said, running a stressed hand through his hair freed from his hat. The second you passed out in his truck, he nearly broke every traffic law. He wasn’t sure he’d never been quiet that scared, which was something he wasn't sure how to feel about.

Your mom furrowed her brows at Tyler’s words, something glinting behind her eyes until it shined in recognition. “You’re that storm chaser she’s always talkin’ about,” Jo said. “The one online.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bill said, nodding in Tyler’s direction. He couldn’t tell if it was disdain or indifference in the man’s voice, but Tyler was too hung up on the fact that you talked about him to care much. He didn’t know that filled him with an odd sense of pride and warmth. You two weren’t exactly friends but you were more than acquaintances. It was more like a nice, workplace rivalry that he enjoyed a lot more than he’d admit.

A small groan sounded from the bed, and everyone turned as your eyes fluttered open. Your mom was quick to your side, speaking quietly under the hum of fluorescent lights.

You started to mumble something about your truck that Tyler couldn’t quite make out, but your dad seemed to understand immediately. He said he’d take care of it, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he headed out into the hall with his cell phone in hand.

Tyler felt like he overstayed his welcome; you were in better hands with your parents there. He collected his things from the chair, garnering your attention.

“Tyler,” you said, pushing yourself to sit upright. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “No problem, doctor. I couldn’t let one of the best chasers be out of the game, now could I?”

“So you admit it? I’ve got you beat.”

“I said one of,” he joked. “But you may have one or two legs up on me. Not for long though. I’ll catch up.”

Something in your smile made him want to sigh in relief, but he held it back. “Not a chance.”

“Then you better rest up; I’ll see you back out there.”

Bonus!

It took a little longer for you to bounce back, but the second you felt like yourself again, you were right back at it. Morning was supposed to bright a slew of storms to Kansas, so you and your team hightailed it to the state, finding a cozy little motel already occupied by other storm chasers. You spotted Tyler’s truck instantly, followed by a strange turn of your stomach.

You hadn’t seen him since you woke up in the hospital, slightly surprised that he stayed with you until your parents arrived. Since then, your mom had managed to bring him up at every opportunity, not so subtly hint at what a pair the two of you would be. You brushed her off, but a small part of you wondered what would happen if you hung around the cowboy a little more.

“Look who’s back!” Tyler’s voice sounded the second you hopped out of Frankie’s beat-up but sturdy truck; you were saving up for a new one, something even nicer that you could doctor up for chasing.

He approached you with a beaming smile, flashing his teeth. “I just couldn’t stay away,” you replied. “I didn’t miss anything too crazy, did I?”

Tyler shook his head. “It seemed like mother nature saved the good ones for you. They’re talkin’ some big ones tomorrow.” The giddy feeling that accompanied storm filled your chest, and the company of Tyler heightened it, strange and new but not completely unwelcome. Maybe it was time you gave into his charm a little more.

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #twisters #twisters 2024 #glen powell #twisters fanfic #glen powell fanfic

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miharuki · 8 months ago

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𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖁𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖃 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 (𝕱𝖊𝖒)

You were inside an otome game, an old classic that you found while searching for games of the same genre.

Imagine your surprise when you realized you were inside the otome game "My Pure Elegant Love," a medieval-style otome game with nobles, kings, and knights. You had just woken up, finding yourself as the daughter of a duke, any duke. Perhaps for a brief moment, you thought you could have reincarnated as Amelie, the protagonist of this game, but you were far from it.

You quickly befriended Amélie; her sweetness and gentleness were at least forced, but you knew that was the vibe of the game. Perhaps being the daughter of a duke, you could meet other characters, like Claude, the noble and best friend of Amélie in the plot and one of the favorite characters of the small group that played this forgotten game, damn it.

There was also Nathan, one of the strongest and most talented knights in the plot. We can't forget about Kalisto, the protagonist's younger brother who had a crush on her, Luka, one of the princes and also a romantic partner in the plot, as well as the wizard Azrael, and the first Duke Eros, all romantic interests of the protagonist.

Being the daughter of a simple duke, you knew you wouldn't have a chance with those of high status like Luka, the first prince. You weren't the protagonist, but you couldn't help but envy her. Perhaps because she was receiving love from handsome boys? Or perhaps because even in this life, in this game, you weren't loved by your family. You thought that being the daughter of a duke would give you some privileges, but oh, how wrong you were. Neglected by your parents, hated by the romantic interests of the protagonist, and simply having a bad reputation.

You thought you were becoming friends with Claude and that you might even win his love, but that was thrown out the window when they all decided to embarrass you at the prince's luxurious party. You didn't know that wearing a dress that Luka himself gave you would make you the target of everyone's ridicule.

"How could you do this, [name]?" How could you? You didn't do anything wrong! There, in front of the stairs with the prince behind her, was the protagonist, wearing the same dress as yours, but prettier. Perhaps because her perfect protagonist's body and beauty were helping her.

All the protagonist's romantic interests, including the ones you liked on the other side of the screen, were looking at you with anger, perhaps even smiling as if it were planned by them, by all of them, including his highness, who at first seemed not to like you, treating you even like a servant. You envy how they were all around that bitch, comforting her, as if you were the villain, which you never were.

Everyone talked, laughed, and even mocked. "I can't believe Miss Amélie has a friend like that!" You heard a lady saying, looking down. Not even your parents cared about you, at this point, you're probably being disowned by the family.

With tears on your face, after trying to explain the misunderstanding to everyone, after being slapped by his highness and the protagonist, you felt like crap. Pulling on the dress, you turned and ran out of the hall, opening the doors brutally. You couldn't stay in that room anymore, not when everyone was now looking at you with hatred.

Unaware, you came across a balcony, hearing footsteps coming. You were scared; the prince might have sent guards after you after you "lied" to everyone while explaining.

With all your strength, you push through the balcony fence, and as you're about to jump, someone forcefully opens the doors, startling you and causing you to slip, now falling to the ground. Your tears are now stronger, groaning in pain as you try to get up.

It was with pain, dirt, and tears that you ended up behind a bush. You couldn't take it anymore; you were shaking from the cold, crying, your makeup smudged, your hair dirty and messy, your "copied" dress dirty and torn. You've never felt so worthless before.

You cried as if you were carrying all the burdens, thinking about how the romantic pairs and the protagonist were not the best; in fact, they were the worst.

Feeling a headache, you sit down, trying to breathe well and calm down as you think, "And now?"

"What's a maiden doing crying in the middle of the woods?" Looking back, you noticed someone coming, a boy. Turning your head forward, you try to wipe away the tears. You don't like anyone seeing you cry; crying is for weak people.

Then you felt something being thrown over you, a thick, large coat. Lifting your head, you now look at the boy in front of you. His melodic and calm voice speaks as he gently crouches in front of you.

"Can you tell me, fair lady?"

You sobbed, trying not to cry, mocking the nickname the boy gave you.

"Fair lady? The way I am right now, I'm barely even a girl, let alone fair or a lady," you say as you use your own dress to clean up the mess of makeup and tears.

"I don't think that," the boy continues to clean as he speaks. "To be honest, I think you're even more beautiful. You just can't see it."

The boy's hands lift your stained and dirty face. You look and notice the looks he's giving, but they're not directed at the protagonist like everyone else's; they're for you.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" His calm and concerned eyes are looking at you, waiting for your response.

You just look aside before sighing. It's better than nothing.

"His Highness, the prince, had given me a dress as a gift... to wear at the ball today, but my friend - no, Miss Amélie was wearing the same one. Some of her friends started mocking me for trying to 'copy' the girl, but when I tried to explain, His Highness said he would never give me a gift in his life, especially knowing that his 'friend' Amélie would be wearing it today," you almost can't finish without starting to cry again, sobbing as you try to explain.

"They all planned to humiliate me in front of everyone, and His Highness still insists that I'm lying!" You say, already crying again, not noticing the arms going around you. You only notice when you feel being embraced by the boy as you cling to him, crying and sobbing.

"My dear, they don't deserve your kindness or your presence. What they did was extremely awful to a lady like you," the boy says as he strokes your hair and back, comforting you, as you've always wished to be.

You were clinging to the boy, feeling betrayed, feeling used. You didn't even notice the boy raising his hand to someone behind you, to someone dressed in black, a gentleman, but not the prince's gentleman, oh no, not that traitor.

You didn't even realize how the castle was beginning to stir.

"Let's go, I'll take you somewhere else. You might end up getting sick staying here," he says as he watches you cling to him. He could feel your warmth, you were starting to get sick from crying so much. Nomura's heart was breaking at the thought of you falling ill.

"Are you okay with this, miss?" The boy asks before you nod in agreement. Nomura gets ready and picks you up bridal-style, using his own coat that was on top of you as a blanket to protect you as he carried you to his own carriage.

Watching as you had already fainted from crying, he held you gently as the carriage headed towards his castle, leaving behind an important part of the game that was happening, unaware that the game's villain was now holding you firmly.

Do I do a part 2?

#yandere emperor #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere childhood friend #yandere x you #yandere prince #yandere villain #yandere otome #yandere x darling #yandere male #yandere boy #yandere boy x reader #yandere oc #yandere fic #yandere core

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wheneclipsefalls · 6 months ago

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Little Gift - Latch

Neteyam photo by @cinetrix

Pairing: Dark Aged Up Neteyam x Human Fem Reader

Warnings: aged up characters, DUBCON/NONCON, kidnapping, MDNI EXPLICIT, yandered qualities, possessive behavior, slight degradation, interspecies intimacy, swearing, power imbalance, sub reader, dom Neteyam, manipulation, hair pulling, creampie, a lot more stuff but at this point you hopefully know whether or not you should read haha

Summary: Victory is finally his and Neteyam knows exactly how he wants to celebrate it.

A/N: A little unsure about my word choice but it's been fun writing from Neteyam perspective for the first time in this series. Enjoy!

Main Masterlist I Little Gift Masterlist

You belong here, perched on his lap with your head notched against his shoulder. So small and pretty that his legs barely register your body weight. He wraps a hand around your outer thigh to angel you further against him. This is perfect.

Everything is perfect.

Pandora has rid of those Sky Demons and his prize, his little gift, is still here in his arms where you will always be. Those traitors are no longer here to tempt you with false promises of escape and a life outside of belonging to the Olo’eyktan. You may not realize it now but they would have broken you. It is only a miracle from Eywa that has allowed your beautiful spirit to stay in tack after all those years of inhabiting the same space as those treacherous creatures.

The RDA may think that you are a gift given by them but in reality it is Eywa that has placed you on his lap.

You were created for him. Designed perfectly inside and out.

His reward for all that he has had to endure.

Now with you safely tucked in his arms and his People celebrating their freedom once more, he can rest. He is free to savor all that the Great Mother has offered him, although you prove to be difficult to rangle at times. That’s okay, he enjoys a good challenge. It makes your earned submission all that more satisfying.

He’s not sure how long one human can cry for but it appears you are shooting for a record. Your tears have soaked the feathers of his Olo’eyktan attire but he doesn’t mind, not when you are snuggling into him for comfort.

His plan of distraction worked wonders during take off but it was only a matter of time before your mind came back online and began worrying once more about the absence of people that never truly loved you. It’s to be expected however Neteyam is pleased to find that your response is not one of anger but sadness and seeking refuge. He couldn’t have asked for anything more ideal.

He is your refuge, your one true home and the fact that you are learning that so quickly makes a sense of pride burst within him.

The glittering gems of your new top compliment your own sparkling tears exquisitely. It had taken weeks for him to make but it was worth it. He would want nothing less for his pet on a night of such grand celebration. However, it becomes abundantly clear that he is not the only one who appreciates the outfit.

It’s the fifth time Lo’ak has turned in the direction of the throne while dancing to check on you. Or at least, that is how his younger brother would be sure to phrase it but Neteyam is no fool. He can see the hunger in those eyes. Typical of his younger sibling to chase after what he can not have. What Neteyam himself possesses.

Their eyes meet and it only takes a moment for Lo’ak to recover from being caught and roll his own back at his brother and turn to continue dancing. He’s not sure how much longer this game will go on where Lo’ak pretends to hold no interest. One way or another it will come out. Neteyam’s arm tightens around your waist, fingers running through your silky hair.

It is then that he notices your little sobs have stopped and are now replaced with long deep breaths. It’s amazing that you are able to sleep through the banging drums and echoing calls but it seems that all of your crying has worn out your poor little body. Such a fragile thing you are.

All the more reason to keep you close. And yet another reason he finds his mind swirling back to the idea of keeping you on a leash. Ideally he would carry you to and fro but there are times where he needs to have his hands available. With your habit to wander off he can’t risk having you fall and break your little neck. A leash would be the perfect solution.

Not to mention how good you would look trailing behind him, sweet little bow around your throat as a permanent reminder of his claim on you.

His tewng [loincloth] is unbearably tight. It presses against your soft thighs but that’s not enough. For perhaps the hundredth time you shift in his lap, unable to sit comfortably on your red ass. You’ve given up on trying to convince him to let you stand but that doesn’t stop that supple little pout from gracing your lips every time you are reminded of the pain. Even in your sleep you try to wiggle and squirm from his lap.

Of course there is another source of your constant squirming. A source that Neteyam finds his fingers dipping down to trace over as the base just barely peeks out of your tight pussy.

This plug is much larger than the cute one you had stowed away in your old nightstand drawer. It had taken more than a fair amount of encouragement to slot that thick piece of plastic inside your cunt but the sight was magnificent. Complain all you want but the way your walls clench around it in desperation tells Neteyam more than he needs to know.

It’s the largest size of his collection which means that tonight is the night. Tonight you will officially become his. Your pussy will soon forever have the imprint of his thick length inside of you, ruining you for any other man. Not that you would ever have the chance to be with another male outside of him again. Jared was the end of that line and the Olo’eyktan feels no hint of remorse for taking care of that pest.

Another flash of Lo’ak’s gaze.

Neteyam feels you stir when he lets out a deep sigh. However reluctant he is, it’s important to set his brother straight. Lo’ak has an overactive imagination after all and the last thing he would want is his little brother’s curiosity and desire becoming an interruption for the wondrous night the two of you are about to have.

Those long lashes flutter open, throat caught on a sharp intake when he stands up and places you back onto the seat. Your dazed and confused look is one that Neteyam can’t help but coo at, the pad of his thumb running over your cheek.

“Mawey, tiyawn [be calm, love]. I will be right back.” You’re already scrambling to your knees, finally keeping the weight off of your sore bum. “Be a good girl for me and stay put, yes?”

It’s a rhetorical question and one that he doesn’t give you a chance to answer before a kiss is placed on your hairline and the Olo’eyktan is parting the crowd. It’s obvious that there is a moment where you consider stopping him. You may be hell bent on never admitting it verbally but the other Na’vi put you on edge and being around him has become your one constant, a safety you can rely on. If not for his urgency Neteyam would take his time in teasing you on the matter.

Your face always looks even more lovely with that deep shade of red, whether from anger or embarrassment or even both.

Later, he reminds himself.

The female rubbing up against Lo’ak looks more than put out by his lagged reciprocation. Her displeasure colors into slight shock when she spots her Olo’eyktan coming straight towards them. Lo’ak crosses his arms as his partner quickly signs the proper respect to their leader. Neteyam dismisses her easily.

“Excuse me, sister. I require a moment with my brother.” Neteyam ushers Lo’ak away from the scene before giving her a chance to respond or offer to give them privacy.

The fire’s light now just barely humming over their skin. The two brothers find a moment of solace on the outskirts of the celebration. Neteyam’s ears still buzz from the sensory overload it has taken for the past few hours.

“If you’re going to ask me for another favor can it at least wait until tomorrow? There is a party, you know.” Lo’ak tall frame lazily leans against the nearest tree and he attempts to hide the way his eyes fly over Neteyam’s shoulder towards you by making a show of tying his hair back.

“Funny considering how eager you were to grant me a favor earlier this morning.” Neteyam’s veiny arms cross over his chest, tail whipping back and forth in the cool wind. If Lo’ak is intimidated he doesn’t show it.

“Aren’t I a wonderful brother?” Those sharp teeth shimmer as he makes a show of giving an over the top sarcastic grin.

“Lo’ak.” Neteyam growls.

“Jesus, calm down.” Lo’ak groans, head thrown back against the bark. “She’s still your little toy.”

“I am not stupid, baby brother. I see the way you look at her.”

“Whatever.” Lo’ak bristles and makes his way to stomp off but he is caught by the upper bicep.

“I don’t want there to be any…confusion.” Silence spreads between them, the only sound being that of Lo’ak’s harsh exhale.

“I was only watching.” He finally says, voice dropping lower.

“And you are free to.” Small steps bring him further into his brother’s space. “But let’s be clear about whose permission you need in order to touch.”

“And I didn’t.” His arm is ripped from Neteyam’s grasp. “I’ve only ever babysat the little brat and done all that you’ve asked of me. If you are looking for problems to address I would start with her running off at every given opportunity. Take a look for yourself!” He flails an exasperated arm in your direction but Neteyam doesn’t even bother to turn.

“I am aware.” There is no need to look in order to know that you have once again tried your hand at another escape. He can see it in his mind’s eye now, your small body carefully hoisting itself down from the high throne. Panicked eyes racing over the crowd in search of any Na’vi that could potentially halt your actions. All that before short legs race off into the darkness. “I’m giving her a head start.”

It’s best not to let you go too far. Eywa knows you are very skilled at finding new ways to put yourself in danger, but a little chase is an exhilarating experience.

“Oh yeah, you going to make me chase after her for you too?” Lo’ak spits out, urging Neteyam to roll his eyes at his brother’s antics. He resists however, that wouldn’t be very becoming of the Olo’eyktan.

“I fear you would enjoy that far too much, brother.”

Instead of fiery words shot back the only line of defense Lo’ak puts up is a scoff and frowned expression, golden eyes simmering with words that he knows better than to voice. Neteyam can give his brother credit for that at least. He knows when he is stomping on dangerous territory. You, on the other hand, seem to be learning that lesson far too slow. It seems a cute tawtute like you are more of a hands on learner.

“Can I be excused then, oh might Olo’eyktan?” He flourishes with a sarcastic bow.

“Leave.” Neteyam bites out simply, forcing his eyes to remain trained on his younger brother as he joins the crowd again. It’s a safety precaution just in case Lo’ak gets a bad idea even after warnings. Much to the Na’vi girl’s dismay Lo’ak does not join her again on the dance floor and instead heads straight towards the fermented fruit. No doubt he will spoil himself into a drunken state. Unfortunately for him, Neteyam already has his hands full babysitting you tonight.

He takes his time, however, greeting a few of the clan members and partaking in a small dose of alcohol himself. With your small legs it will take you forever to get a distance that makes this chase even remotely fun. However, once the drink is empty and he has done his dues as Olo’eyktan in the social event Neteyam can no longer keep himself at bay. There are other creatures of the night that could be waiting to catch a pretty prey like you.

Tracking you down is almost laughably easy with your sweet scent wafting through the air. A scent that only grows tenfold when he comes across a peculiar piece of plastic stashed in a bush. It’s the dildo that is meant to still be snuggled up in your little cunt.

A sharp smirk cuts into his features.

For such a smart little thing you really can be so negligent at times. With the dildo out your scent now goes from a dulled perfume to a thick fragrance that coats the air. He recognizes that aroma, he knows the way it tastes. Your arousal has only made you an easier target and now you have done nothing but take out the one piece keeping it plugged. Neteyam can envision so clearly that trail of slick that is sure to be marking your thighs.

Such a messy little thing you are. Even after the way he cleaned you up so dutifully post launch, you have managed to turn into a wet temptation once more.

The small footprints along the dirt are almost pointless in his pursuit now that he has your scent. They only serve as a confirmation that he is going the right way. It doesn’t take long before the sound of your sharp panting reaches his upturned ears. It’s then that the Olo’eyktan takes to the trees. He glides along the thick branches without a sound, gaining a bird’s eye view of your desperate running.

The full on sprint you started off with has come down to a clumsy jog. Even with your small stride he’s sure you could make it a lot further if you would simply stop looking over your shoulder every other second. An action that has you stumbling and grabbing your foot to pick out a thorn from the underside. Little curses rise between your harsh breaths.

And then your breathing is cut all together.

The sounds of claws and wild yips echo through the greenery. By the sounds of it Neteyam knows it must be a small pack of aynantang [viperwolves]. They aren’t close, at least not yet. With your back turned and eyes blown out in silent terror he decides that now is as good a time as ever to interrupt.

Neteyam lowers himself down slowly, muscular arms controlling his descent into a movement so smooth and silent that it is nothing more than a shadow. A shaky hand covers your lips, the little puff of your beating heart pushing your chest out even more. One long step forward and now he can watch your trembling from above, his toes almost touching your muddy heels.

“Their bite is not as sharp as mine, pet.”

You scream before the sound can be stopped, spinning so fast your heel that you land directly on your red bum instead. Even without glowing tanhi dotting your skin, those dilated eyes have a way of making you glow in the night. Even more so when they dazzle up at him with unleashed fear and vulnerability.

You scramble backwards, clawing at the muddy ground until you are clumsily trying to crawl back onto your feet. Fine by him, it’s easier to close the height difference when you are back to standing. He grabs your right arms easily, pulling you back against him. The fight continues as you turn to bash your first against his abdomen, even clawing at his thighs but then another sound cuts you off again.

They are closer this time.

“They hunt in packs.” Neteyam informs you. “Circle their prey until there is nowhere left to go.”

A rustle of bushes to the left has your squirming changing from running away to ducking behind Neteyam. He allows the action, sharp teeth peeking from his grin when he feels the way your soft fingers dig into his thighs.

“My father was almost killed by a pack once. Even in his avatar form he depended on my mother’s mercy to fight the creatures off.” You shake like a leaf in the wind, your face pressed against his lower back when the sounds get louder. He almost feels bad for scaring you so much, tempted to bundle you in his arms and shush your worries away. However, that would ruin the lesson. You are the one that decided to run off carelessly into the woods without him and now you need to understand why you depend on Neteyam for everything. Why you owe him your submission and affection.

“I wonder how you would fair.” A few more wolves prowl from the bushes, inching closer. They creep forward with a hesitance at the sight of Neteyam, driven only by curiosity as your scent continues to fill the air.

“Teyam.” You whimper into his hip, now latching onto the strap of his loincloth to urge him backwards.

“What’s wrong, pet? I thought you wanted to be set free?”

A vicious snarl rip from the right and you stumble to cling to his left side now. That startled little scream is just barely muffled by the way your face is pressed into his hip.

He coos at your little pleas. “Has someone changed their mind, hm?” Any other time you would be barring your blunt teeth at him but he knows that in the height of your fear there is no resistance left for him. You’re too focused on the prowling beasts that flash their own teeth in eclipse’s glow.

“Teyam please, let’s go!” Voice caught on sobs that threaten to rise, you can barely make the words out.

Your fear is palpable, but not just to him.The aynantang [viperwolves] can sense it too. They circle and watch with more confidence as the seconds roll by. Periodically they flicker up to his looming form, as if checking to see whether or not he will be a threat against their newfound meal. It would be easy to scare them off, something Neteyam has done himself many times. He’s hunted these forests since he was a boy and his own scent is something that the creatures have learned to associate with danger.

Standing here now, however, he keeps a neutral position and one that the pack hesitantly takes as an opportunity to cinch closer. A flash of his knife and that confidence would disintegrate until the pack would scurry off into another corner of the forest.

Neteyam keeps it sheathed.

“You’re the one that ran off, little gift.” He reminds you, voice calm and cool.

“I know! I know! I’m sorry j-just please!”

“Please what, tiyawn? You have to be more specific.”

You struggle to respond properly, hands frantically switching from tugs at the straps to clawing up at his arms. Regardless, Neteyam remains unmoved, arms crossed over his chest as he observes the scene with indifference. “Please..please don’t let them-” You gasp rearing back when you spot another viperwolf emerging from the left. It’s been there for a while but it appears this is the first time your weak eyes have caught sight of it. “I’m sorry! I’ve changed my mind! Please, I’m sorry.” You cry out in a shrill voice, plastering yourself under his arm.

“Changed your mind on what?” It’s tempting to look down and see the way you so desperately seek his comfort but Neteyam is wise enough to keep his golden gaze sharply pinned on the emerging creatures.

“On wanting to leave! You can take me home just please-”

“Oh can I?” Your chin is snatched between two fingers, forcing you to crane your neck up towards him. That mask of indifference is gone, replaced only by a fierce stirness you are terrified to be facing twice in one day. “And what makes you think that is up to you?”

It’s hard to look into your eyes directly when they are bouncing wildly in every which direction. Perhaps it is your pitiful way of tracking the oncoming predators, or maybe you simply can not handle facing his gaze filled with ire. Either way, it is adorable to watch your natural submissive nature emerge. And all from a few viperwolves.

Poor thing, what would you do without him?

“I-I’m sorry.” You say, voice so small and timid that only a Na’vi would have hopes of hearing it. Neteyam’s chest rumbles with a deep purr, other hand finally coming up to run through your hair.

“I know you are, tiyawn. You just get confused sometimes, don’t you?” No response is given, instead just a gasp as another creature inches closer and you dash into his arms. This time he wraps one arm around your small frame while the other goes for his sheathed knife. The advance pauses, aynantang [viperwolves] pacing from side to side instead. Your reaction is premature but Neteyam basks in it all the same.

From the heated breath and salty tears painting his lower stomach he begins to worry that your fragile body will soon give out and lose consciousness. Keeping you tucked under his arm is the best move, easily accessible for when he needs to scoop you up without retaliation. However at this point, it seems that you are willing to do whatever it takes to earn his protection.

What a short memory you truly have. Perhaps if you listened to him more diligently like a good pet should then you would already know that his protection has been yours since the first time he saw you. He would defend you to his very last breath. Whether or not you asked for it would be irrelevant. That being said, you’ve always had the sweetest way of begging so who is he to deny himself such a pretty chorus of promises.

They flow now freely from your lips. Pleading, crying, and begging for him to get you out of harm's way. He simply shushes you, making no rush as a rigid arm tightens to pull you even closer.

The creatures are scared off within the first few hisses that leave his lips. Knife dancing under the moonlight with a deadly promise, they yip away reluctantly. Still, there is an advantage to not letting you know how easy it truly is to scare them off so he tells you to look away, to keep snuggled against him where they can not so easily see your fear.

You remain that way when you are lifted into his arms. Your thighs strain to wrap around his ribcage but you eventually manage to lock your ankles together. With your shaky limbs locked in terror you are barely in need of his supporting arm, but he wraps one under your rear anyways. You remind him of a small syaksyuk [Prolemuris] as you cling with fervor, lighting his amusement to new heights.

The walk back is pleasant, even when your shaking doesn’t stop and your racing heart beat is louder than the stomp of his feet. There is still great peace to be found with you in his arms and the promise of a wonderful night in the air. After tonight you won’t dare to leave him, not now that you have developed a healthy sense of fear and even more so once your body has taken him fully the way it was meant to.

He holds back a groan at the thought. Your smell is still just as potent as when you first ran and now it holds an extra tang of emotion that makes it all that much sweeter. He manages to pick up the tossed aside dildo on the way back, but that acts as fuel to the flames.

He has sought after your true mating for months and now that he is on the cusp of finally making it a reality it is hard to keep a rational mind. The natural urge to pin you down and take what has always been his morphs into a feral urgency that infringes on his thoughts. Although, he is determined to take his time tonight because it is isn’t enough to simply fuck you into the ground or find pleasure in that first stretch. No, tonight is about claiming you in every way possible.

About teaching not only your body but your mind that there is no one else it belongs to. No one else that can provide for you in the way he can. Utter and complete submission is his goal. But to get you there, that will take skillful maneuvering and coercion. Otherwise it would not be a quest worthy of his time or attention.

However, there is still one more way he can lock you into his life. One permanent reminder that would forever keep you shackled to him. An action that would have your scent intertwined with his so much so that it wouldn’t matter if it took. Pregnant or not the message would be clear. The confines of his loincloth feel suffocating at the thought. Would your tiny pussy even be able to hold half of his seed? What a pretty treat it would be to see it spilling out from your perfectly pink and tight hole.

Pace now quickened, nothing can take away his laser focus. Not even Lo’ak’s obvious staring as you are carried swiftly along the outer edges of the celebration. Nor Spider who tries to run across the crowd and apologize again. Neither make it to him because all that he can feel is the warmth of your softy body. The pulse of your heart. The essence that is entirely yours, filling his lungs.

Once back in the safety of his kelku [home/house] you are smart enough to not flee from his lap. He manhandles one leg to be thrown to the other side so you are properly straddling him. A sense of shyness must fall over you because you are silent while nervously fiddling with the feathers of his traditional attire. Or maybe you are still too shaken up over the little viperwolf incident to do much else.

Neteyam is unbothered by it, instead using it as an opportunity to let his hands explore. Not in a sexual way at first, just simple brushes that are sure to have you melting for him.

“Now you understand why you must stay by my side. Don’t you pet?” Voice as gentle as the hands that run up the back of your neck, he can feel goosebumps rise in its wake. Eyes still fixated on the feathers, you nod shakily. If it wasn’t so cute he would be tempted to reprimand you for such a half hearted response but it appears luck is in your favor.

His knuckles paint a trail up the back of your neck before swiping over your left shoulder. His other hand softly gathers your hair to the other side so your skin is bared for him. He thumbs at the side of your throat, feeling your pulse flicker beneath his fingers.

“Such a pretty thing like you is not safe out there.” His hands bracket either side of your face, large enough to span the entirety of your head and tilt it upwards. It gives him the perfect view of your expression when both hands smooth up towards your hairline before parting and dragging along your scalp. Lips parted and eyes fluttered closed, he knows he has pressed the right button.

“Creatures eager to snatch you up.” Neteyam draws out, nails ever so gently scratching along your roots. The shiver that races through your body is powerful enough to be visual. Massaging at the area in long strokes proves to have you breaking into pieces. Body practically limp against him, the Olo’eyktan watches with glee.

No wonder Sky People are too soft for this world, all it takes to disarm you is some well placed pets.

“And they’d be successful too,” The tips of his fingers come together to circle your hair into a ponytail. A small sound exhales from your lips, leaning into his touch without resolve. “Have you between their teeth before you could even scream.” That dark tone washes over you in a way so contrary to the warning message, his lips mere centimeters away from your own.

One little kiss, more of a peck really. That is all you get. Just enough to have you chasing after him, a motion that is hard to do when he has you anchored by the root of your hair.

“And that,” Another soft peck to your cheek, “is why you are so lucky to have me.” Neteyam allows his lips to linger longer this time but it’s still just as soft, almost more of a whisper than anything else and with the way you are trapped, there is nothing for you to do but take it. The noise that catches in your throat proves it is far from the passionate affection you desire.

“Isn’t that right?”

“Yes Teyam.” You puff, the softest whisper as you try to learn forward for more. He tutts in disapproval, a slow but firm yank to your hair following. “Y-yes Olo’eyktan.” You correct yourself with a squeak and much to his delight, the fragrance from between your thighs intensifies. He’s tempted to look now and see if it has left a spot on his loincloth.

“There’s my good girl.” He grins and finally you are rewarded with his lips capturing yours. Although slow and tender in movement the heat of the kiss is all consuming, spreading a message that can only reflect his complete control over you. Several times you try to squirm or wiggle but the hand embedded in your hair shackles you into place.

Unlike most times you become a fidgeting little thing, it’s clear that your efforts are to get closer, not further away. Neteyam is a nice man after all and so he indulges that desire. At least to a degree. He kisses you until you’re gasping for breath. He kisses you until slick is seeping through your mini loincloth. And he kisses you until those soft little lips are ruby red and chapped from the harsh treatment.

It doesn’t matter to you, that much is clear by the way you whimper once he pulls away.

“Don’t be greedy.” He smirks against your cheek.

Your greed only intensifies when he slips one hand down to untie your loincloth. His other hand remains embedded in your hair as a leash, one that proves necessary as you are eager to rut up against him. Perhaps he would feel guilty for the way you blush in shame after another tug to your hair. That is, if your reactions weren’t so delightfully endearing.

For reasons mysterious to him, humans have a habit of going against their natural needs. You are not exempt from this issue as you are constantly trying to deny your desire for him, even deny yourself the pleasure you so clearly require. It’s fortunate that you have him to override those silly concerns. And override them he does, quite easily since your body reacts like a live wire every time he is near. The smallest of touches have you aching for more.

Eywa has blessed him with such a responsive little pet and he has every intention of exploiting that sensitivity until you are screeching for him to stop.

Small hands come to dig into his feathered mantle as he idly explores the curves of your stomach. He traces up until reaching the sparkling gems of your top. With two little flicks your hardened nipples are bared for him.

It’s a rare experience to have you so cooperative as he bites and sucks at those little peaks. The emotions of that day have softened your resolve, a pattern that Neteyam makes a mental note of.

He tunes into every sensation of satin skin beneath his fingertips. Atop his thighs. Prickling beneath his lips. Like a flower you blossom for him so exquisitely. Revealing petals that are just for him. Melodic whimpers that only he has the pleasure of inducing. The irritation of Lo’ak’s infatuation fades to the background with you so pliant in his arms.

You are quickly driven to madness, or at least is how you plead when he continues to trace, worship and tease your small body. Neteyam is anxious too. His hard member presses painfully against the fabric of his tewng. However, being the first born son has taught him something that you very rarely exhibit: patience. The fruits of your labors are tenfold more exhilarating once following a period of yearning.

And you yearn for him, little gift. So much so that your dramatic begging has him holding back a deep chuckle.

A river of nectar flowing down your thighs, you act as if you will pitter into dust if not satisfied.

It will be fun training you. Making you learn to sit patiently like a good pet when that inferno of fire burns deep within you. He can devise a plethora of creative punishments for when you inevitably step out of line. Neteyam looks forward to the long process. He wouldn’t want to succeed too quickly and cut the fun short.

Luckily your spit fire attitude is sure to draw it out, keeping him entertained and challenged for a long time.

The reasoning is only further confirmed when he catches you sneaking a tiny hand between your legs. The grip in your hair finally releases only for him to sharply smack away your attempt.

“Did I say you could do that?”

You’re exasperated, pleading eyes staring up at him as a drawn out groan comes from your lips.

“Well are you planning to tease me all night or actually do something?”

You’re pinned onto your back in a heartbeat, this time his right hand curled around your throat instead of your hair. It may not be firm enough to cut off your airway but the oxygen in your lungs freezes all the same.

“Oeyӓ tiyawn I have greater plans for my pussy than using your pathetic little fingers.” He growls into your ear, watching as you are too frozen in shock to bother struggling. “Because by the end of tonight it will be filled with my seed.”

Your throat bobs with a thick gulp, stuttered words struggling to come forth but a tad more pressure against your pulse earns your silence. And to his fascination, your eyes roll back into your head. Fight it all you want, but it’s clear you have always thrived off of his domination. This power imbalance is one that you need. Satisfying that deeply locked away drive you have to be loved, pampered, controlled, and absolutely ruined.

Just in the way only he can deliver.

Squeeze any tighter and his fingers might just lose circulation. Regardless, the dildos have done their job effectively and now you are more than ready to take him. It was always going to be a tight fit, but at least there is little risk of real injury due to his preparations.

You appear less convinced on that matter when his unoccupied hand roughly tugs off his tewng. Wide eyes stare down to where his full length lays along your stomach. He has to admit that in a position like this the size difference does become ever more staggering but he has every faith in you.

“Neteyam please,” You whimper, shiny eyes staring up at him for mercy.

“Please what?” He hums. His fingers curl to massage that special spot inside while his thumb playfully runs over your clit. It has the desired effect, watching as your begging turns towards a different goal.

“Please let me cum! Need it! Neteyam please!”

Neteyam shushes you tenderly, relieving some of the pressure from you little button when he feels your cunt clench around him on the verge of an orgasm. You’ve never looked more beautiful than now, naked and spread across the little nest of blankets and pillows he arranged just for you. Long hair splayed out in every which direction and eyes already coated in a haze, it appears as if you have already been fucked dumb beneath him.

“Patience, little gift. You will cum on my cock soon enough.”

Your alarm flares up once more.

“No Neteyam I can’t! It’s too big, it’s impossible-”

A large thumb presses over your lips to silence you. At this rate you are going to work yourself into hysterics and that would unravel all of the hard work he has done to get you here. A few more intentional circles on your clit has those protests flying out the door. It’s clear you require his help to stay calm and compliant the way you are meant to. The Olo’eyktan doesn’t mind aiding.

Your chest rises and falls dramatically as you melt under the pleasure. And when his three fingers are replaced with the head of his cock lining up, you hardly even notice. As long as that little bundle of nerves is being stimulated, you are hyper focused on seeing out that ecstasy to a finish.

A soft kiss dampens your screech when he slots in just the tip. Already his mind swirls from the sensation but Neteyam manages to reign in his focus. Little ‘no’ s and pleas fall from your lips to caress his.

“Mawey, oeyӓ tiyawn [be calm, my love]. You are being so good for me.” Another inch and it feels as if his own knees are about to crumble from how tightly you cinch around him. Small hands fists into the fabric below as your eyes squeeze shut. Neteyam shakily grasps one with his right hand, placing it along his shoulder that is now exposed with the feathered attire out of the way. “You can touch, little pet. Good girls deserve rewards.”

With your face just barely reaching chest level the Olo’eyktan is forced to bend into an awkward position every time he goes to kiss away your tears, but it’s worth it. Those blunt little nails dig into his lower back. It’s a shame they aren’t strong enough to leave marks that he can cherish.

The air from his lungs are pushed out in a rush as he plunges ever so slightly deeper inside your sweet little pussy. You tense and cry beneath him, scratching as his back in haste. Although mere seconds away from popping his load far too early he still manages to reach down and play with your poor little cunt until more of that sweet essence is trailing out.

“You need to relax for me, pet.” Neteyam grits, tail curling erratically. “Going to suffocate my cock like this, little one.” And it’s true because in all of his years of sexual maturity not once has he ever felt a pussy so tight, so responsive, wrapped around him. It drives him to the point of insanity. It takes every last bit of resolve he has left to not shove the rest of himself inside and plow you into the floor.

But Neteyam knows better than to break his toys.

The next few minutes test his mental and physical stamina over and over as you slowly take him inch by inch. Every slow push of his hips causes a domino effect of tears and incoherent cries from your sweet lips. He kisses and soothes and pleasures your trembling body until you’ve learned to relax again. Only to then restart the cycle when you take one inch more.

However, nothing prepares him for the end result. No amount of dreaming or training could ever have done the sight justice as he sees the way your soft belly bulges when he reaches the hilt. The shape of him is clearly visible, twitching so deep inside of you that it threatens to drive both of you into sensation overload.

The groan that rumbles from his throat is one that you have never heard before. So rough and unleashed that your glittering eyes dilate in response. It’s still painful, that much he can see from the look on your face. So despite every instinct in him screaming to ruin your little pussy until it can take no more, Neteyam remains in place.

Your swollen nub is red from his sensual play, nipples not far behind as he laps and kisses them like they are the last meal he will ever have. That beautiful blush now heats down your neck and torso, as if tempting him to continual his oral fixation. It accentuates most importantly that bulge of your stomach until he can’t help himself anymore, large hand spanning over your tummy to press on that area lightly.

“Can you feel me, tiyawn? Right here?” He presses again, your mouth opening in a silent scream. “Taking me so deep, pet. My good girl.”

And it’s then that it feels as if something has clicked. Your bodies becomes attuned to one another. Burning stretch morphs into something otherworldly, those soft features finally unscrewing into fluttering bliss. And he draws out ever so slightly to rut back in, your head falls back against the pillows.

He’s waited long enough. Pinned long enough. Crawled after you long enough. Now all that his body can do is take what you so freely give him. His hips snap forward without restrain, spurred on by the little sounds that pulse in the back of your throat. Little fingers scatter between gripping his muscular back and tangling into his braids.

The heat that travels from his ears to toes is so intense that it feels as if he may burst into an inferno. And he truly might, little gift. With the way you hug his cock so snuggly as if you never want to let it go, you may simply kill him. He would be happy to go that way. To leave this world drowning in the bliss of your destined union.

And for once in his life, Neteyam lets himself fully go. He chases that peak with fervent desperation. He drinks in every reaction you have to give him. And when the pleasure becomes all too much for you to take. When you grapple to crawl away from him and the mind shattering climax that is around the corner, he pulls you back down with a hiss.

“No more running, pet.” He commands, a growl emanating so deeply from his chest that he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. He hoists your left leg around his waist, effectively changing the angle to thrust in deeper.

“Neteyam!” A screech like sweet honey from your lips as you finally tip over the edge. Body trembling so hard it takes that firm grip on your leg to keep it there, you crumble beneath him. His stamina is far from being drained as he rides you through it. Every wave of pleasure is stronger than a drug, leading him to cloud nine until he no longer wants to be anywhere else.

“T-too much.” You gasp for air but your body is already succumbing to the onslaught. He can feel the way you are ramping up again. This is far from being over.

“Give in.” Neteyam coos but the ring of that command is clear. There is no other option. That is the way it has always been because from the very beginning you have always been his. And sooner or later Eywa knew that the two of you would be here together, trapped in his love where you belong.

“Oh God!” You cry out, body sliding up the floor with every thrust.

Whether you find his queue by accident or on purpose is unclear but that first tug is enough to have his balls drawing up against his body, bracing to fly into bliss. There is a sticky mess between the two of you, slick enough to have those wet sounds filling the night air. Neteyam runs the flat of his nose over your sweaty temple and curve of your cheek.

“My little gift.” He purrs, body on the brink of rupturing. He says it more for himself than you but is more than pleased to watch the way your eyes flutter close as the sound. Trembling, squeezing, and shattering around him, those are the moments your reserve of denial dries up.

That’s how it has always been. From the first night that he brought you home, tucked under his arm, you’ve had this other side that can be taunted out. Even that night as you had pleaded to be released only to have the gag put back in, his tongue had driven you to stillness. Your screaming of kidnapping had sizzled into a series of moans and ecstatic exclamations.

There’s another side to him too.

The part of him that can finally bask in the one thing he has wanted for months. The part of him that yearns for reprieve day in and day out. The part that demands for rest- for freedom.

Now he can finally surrender himself to the magic that the two of you create. To the sparkle that runs down your cheeks. To the sensation of being embraced so tightly by your little pussy. To the way his name has never sounded better from anyone else’s lips. Eywa has finally given him this gift, his sanctuary from every other pressure bestowed upon him.

And now nothing is going to take it away from him.

Nothing will ever take you away.

Those are the thoughts that coerce his primal nature forward. The same that ramp the fire of his tongue demanding more from you. Pushing you further, harder, deeper.

“You won’t let any spill out, will you pet?” He spits between grunts.

“I-I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.” More of a chant on loop than anything else. One day you will beg properly. You will cry for his seed, for his babies. You won’t question whether or not pregnancy is possible as he fills your womb with his mark.

You will wear that little bow on your neck with pride.

Neteyam forces his eyes open at the precipice. Even as his body convulses and cock pulses rampantly while painting your insides white, he won’t allow himself to miss a single moment. That imprint of your expression as he finally claims you past the point of return will stay with him. The drawn in gasp that is sucked in from your red lips when you feel that warmth will be what keeps him going on day after day. Major to minor details of tonight will be his soundtrack to perfection as he pushes himself to be the best Olo’eyktan possible.

And when the day has worn him to the bone and those day dreams are not enough, there you will be. Waiting for him oh so sweetly.

“I want to sleep.”

Your muffled whine coaxes a chuckle from the Olo’eyktan.

“Then sleep.” He responds, only looking up from your spread legs for a second. So peaceful and sweet you are now, almost drowned in the hammock’s blankets and pillows. The picture of innocence and beauty only to then trail his eyes lower and find the evidence of his primal claim. His bioluminescent seed paints your weeping folds and inner thighs. A new spurt erupts from your still clenching hole only for him to push it back inside with his thumb again.

It won’t make much of a difference. There is no way your small body could ever truly hold all of it but that doesn’t stop him from teasing you all the same.

“Looks like this little pussy will need training to savor my seed properly after all.”

Eyes still closed you let out a groan, trying to rip your thighs from his fingers. You remain trapped as exhaustion finally overcomes you, only a small incoherent curse from your tongue before passing out.

Neteyam grins, reaching up to straighten the little pink bow around your throat.

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