#Neteyam drabble

[d0llcuries]

HIIII 🫶 i wanted to ask if i could request a neteyam x omatikaya readerrr where she’s caring for him while he’s healing from the bullet so it’s like just a bit after the war (bc in my head he didn’t die 😔😔😔) and she’s checking up on him making sure he’s okay distracting him from pain/the situation hopefully that makes some sense just some cute stuff like that hehe. (im delusional 💓)

THANKS BABE

KISS YOU BETTER

pairing(s): neteyam x fem!na'vi reader

summary: healing is a process. a slow, lonely and frightful one. you do what you can to be there for him, forever thankful to eywa that he still has breath in his lungs.

author's note: i am the world's fattest dillydallyer, i fear. bear with me folks please and thankss!!

neteyam’s chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, his skin too warm under your palm where his heartbeat drums, faint, beneath layers of gauze and healing paste. the evening light, watery and red through the fibers of the marui pod, filters down over him, casting a glow that makes his blue skin look brighter.

a faint lustre of sweat lies at his temples. you can’t tell if it is the heat or the strain of healing that makes him look fragile, but it is unsettling. it feels like months have passed since that day. the bullet. the blood. the scream that ripped from your throat like you could tear the world in half with it.

he's been in and out of it for days. sometimes, he wakes with a shudder, his fingers twitching as if he’s reaching for his knife or his bow or something to hold onto before his muscles relax and he lays dormant once again. you wonder, not for the first time, what he dreams of now. if he’s still out there, somewhere between life and death, between the stars and the ground, or if he’s here, with you, feeling the soft pressure of your fingers on his skin, the warmth of your breath on his neck. you wonder if he feels the way your hands shake, if he knows how scared you are, even though you don’t say it.

“yawne,” he murmurs, voice raspy, cracking around the edges. it’s the only word he seems to have the strength for lately. my love. you could hear it a thousand times, and still, it would twist your insides in knots, the feeling churning beneath your ribs like roots digging into soil that’s too dry to give way. he says it like it is his only bind to the world.

the air inside the tent is sticky, thick, a little too sweet with the musk of old herbs and the iron tang of blood. you can taste it on your tongue as you breathe, cloying, like when you bite too hard into a mango and the juice drips down your chin, half-spoiled, but still too good to stop. the world is settling outside the night drawing in like a slow breath and inside, the hush of it, the weight of it, sinks into your skin, pools behind your eyes, heavy and aching.

his lashes cast long shadows across his cheeks, his lips chapped and parted as he pulls in uneven breaths. you move carefully, your hands trembling just a little as they skim over his ribs, up to his face, cradling his jaw in your palms. he feels fragile. your body aches in ways you can’t describe, the knots in your muscles from sleeping beside him, always curled up in awkward positions, always watchful. your knees are sore from kneeling too long, your neck stiff from leaning against the wooden posts of the tent. but all that discomfort it feels so small, so inconsequential, in the face of his suffering.

you stroke his hair back, letting the braids slip through your fingers one by one. the roots are damp, curls matted against his scalp. you hum a little under your breath, some half-forgotten melody your mother used to sing when you were small, when the days felt longer and the nights less lonely. the sound barely reaches your ears, swallowed by the thick air, but neteyam stirs, just a fraction, his lips twitching like he's trying to smile, trying to remember how.

dried blood like rust staining the fresh bandages you’ve wrapped around him. your hands know the routine now. the careful unraveling of cloth, the soft hiss of his breath when the cool air touches the wound, the gentle pat of the herbs pressed to his skin. you move like you’re in a trance, like this is a dream, and maybe it is. maybe none of this is real.

you press another kiss to his lips this time, barely more than a whisper of touch, but it feels like a promise. i’m here. i’m staying.

you trace the lines of his collarbone, the curve of his jaw, your touch light, as if you’re afraid he’ll shatter under your hands. you won’t leave me, you think, pressing your lips to the hollow of his throat, you can’t.

you kiss him again, soft, featherlight kisses that brush his skin like a promise, like a prayer. and with each one, you hope—this one will heal him. this one will be enough. but hope is like the wind, you think. it slips through your fingers no matter how tightly you hold on.

so you lie there, listening to the sound of his breathing, the faint rustle of the tent, the hum of the forest, and you wonder how many more kisses it will take before he’s whole again.

his presence is a tether, thin as it may be, binding you here. holding you together, even though the world outside feels as though it has unraveled completely. you sit beside him, legs curled under you, skin tingling with exhaustion. your bones feel like they might fold in on themselves, but none of that matters. wake up.

a sound escapes him. his lips move—just the faintest twitch, but it is something. he is here.

“neteyam,” you whisper. saying his name and it aches to let it out.

his lips part, a dry rasp of breath slipping through, and you reach for the gourd beside you, lifting it to his mouth. the water pools in the curve of his lips, slow and steady.

“drink,” you murmur, your voice catching on the word.

he drinks, the water moving down his throat in quiet gulps, each one easing the tightness there, smoothing the lines of strain from his face. you watch the way his throat moves, the tension softening just a little. when he is done, you lower the gourd, your thumb brushing against his lips, catching the drops that linger there.

your breath catches in your throat as neteyam’s eyes flutter open, the softest sliver of gold peeking through the lashes you have been watching so closely, day after day. your heart leaps before you can even stop it, a wild, untamed thing in your chest, and you do not know whether to laugh, cry, or scream. your hands hover above him, trembling with the need to touch him, to pull him into you, but you stop yourself, knowing how fragile he still is. every fiber of your being is vibrating with joy, your body a live wire of emotions, but you hold yourself back, afraid of overwhelming him, of hurting him.

“nete!” you breathe, the word coming out as half-laughter, half-sob, and you are trembling with the effort it takes not to throw yourself into his arms. your fingers brush his cheek, feather-light, as if he might disappear if you press too hard. the ache in your chest is too much, too bright, and all you can do is smile down at him, wide and breathless, blinking back the tears that blur your vision. he is here, really here, and you do not know how to contain it, how to quiet the storm of happiness that surges through you. you lean down, your forehead just barely touching his, and whisper, “you are awake!” your voice shaking with the weight of all the things you cannot say, all the joy you cannot express without breaking apart.

“you should be resting,” he says, and the sound of it makes your breath catch again. you have heard this voice so many times, but now it feels new, fragile.

you let out a soft laugh, half surprise, half relief, your fingers drifting through his hair, catching the strands that have come loose from his braids. “so should you,” you whisper, feeling the way his body hums beneath your touch, the way his presence pulls you in like the tide, slow and unrelenting.

he makes a small sound, something between a sigh and a hum, and it vibrates through your bones, quiet and deep. his hand tightens on yours, just a little, but enough. enough to remind you that he is here, that you are tethered to him still.

“i missed you,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them, too heavy with meaning. it is not just the missing of these last few days, these long, aching hours. it is the missing of something bigger, something that stretches across time. something that you cannot name.

he hums again, and you feel it in the space between your ribs, that soft agreement. you missed him too, even though you were never really gone. his breathing slows, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there is peace on his face.

“you are going to get better,” you whisper, as if saying it out loud might make it true. as if the words might stitch him back together, might pull him from the edge of whatever dark place he has been hovering near. you press your lips to his brow, kissing the smooth skin there, untouched by the pain that has tried to claim him.

another kiss, this one softer, to the tip of his nose, then his jaw, your lips trailing down to the place where his pulse beats steadily beneath the surface of his skin. he is still here.

you press your mouth to that spot, feeling the rhythm of his life under your lips, and you think, “you know,” you murmur against his skin, “if kissing you could heal you faster, you would be running by now.”

his chest moves with a low sound, something between a chuckle and a breath, and it fills the space between you like music. it makes you smile, makes your heart stutter and swell, and you nuzzle into him, your face pressed against the warmth of his neck, your hand splayed over his chest, trying to anchor yourself in this moment.

“you are doing a good job, then,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, but it is full of something light, something playful.

your heart leaps at the sound, and you lift your head to look at him, to see the faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. his eyes are still closed, but there is life in him now, a flicker of the boy you know—the boy who makes you laugh, the one who makes you feel like the world is not such a terrible place after all.

“then i will keep doing it,” you say, pressing another kiss to his cheek, your smile wide and soft, full of too much feeling.

“do not stop,” he murmurs, and it is almost playful, almost light, and you can feel your heart swelling again, pushing against your chest like it might burst.

you press your forehead to his, your body melting into his warmth, and the world outside feels so far away now, like it cannot reach you here.

“i will not,” you promise, the words slipping from your lips like a vow, like something sacred.

the silence returns, but it is full now, heavy with the weight of everything you have not said, everything you do not need to say. his breathing steadies, slow and rhythmic, and your body sinks into his, your exhaustion finally easing, replaced by something softer. something that feels like peace.

and in this quiet, in this small, fragile moment, you feel it—the hope that has been hiding in the corners of your heart. you feel it blooming, slow and tentative, but there, growing in the space between you.

because he is still here. and you are still here. and that, somehow, is enough.

the sun was unforgiving, but you dug your fingers into the sand anyway, letting it gather beneath your nails, small grains cool against the heat that pressed down on your skin. the ocean sang before you, waves rolling softly toward the shore, brushing against your toes before retreating, almost shy in their touch. you tilted your face up toward the sky, letting the light cascade over you, trying to soak in its warmth, trying to let it chase away the heavy ache in your chest.

you didn’t know how long you’d been sitting there, but it didn’t matter. you came here often now, to this spot just beyond the village, where you could hear the water breathing, feel the sand shift beneath you, and pretend, for a moment, that everything was right. you dug your fingers in deeper, the sensation grounding you, pulling you back from the thoughts that threatened to drag you under.

neteyam was healing. slowly, carefully, but the wounds were still fresh, the memory of his blood staining your hands still too sharp. there were nights you woke with that same metallic scent in your nose, the image of him falling, so still and quiet, burned behind your eyelids. even now, as the sun beat down on you, your mind circled back to it—over and over.

you curled your fingers into fists, the sand slipping through them, leaving nothing but the feel of it sticking to your palms. you hated this. this waiting, this stillness. but you hated it more for him. neteyam wasn’t made to lie still. he was built for movement, for the hunt, for the wild freedom of the forest and sky. now, he was trapped. and in a way, so were you.

your eyes flickered toward the horizon, where the sea stretched out in endless blue. there was a celebration tonight—the metkayina’s way of welcoming a new season. you remembered the last one, how the village had come alive, vibrant and wild. you’d danced with neteyam then, under the stars, laughing as the ocean crashed around your feet. everything had felt light, easy. before.

now, the thought of going felt… wrong. how could you join in their joy when so much of yours was tethered to him, back in that marui, lying still and quiet? how could you celebrate without him by your side?

you pushed yourself up slowly, your body resisting the movement, as if it too was reluctant to leave this spot. you wiped the sand from your hands, shaking your head at your own thoughts. no neteyam, no joy. it was simple, really. without him, nothing felt complete.

the marui was bathed in soft light when you returned, the warm glow of the afternoon filtering in through the slats. it was quieter now, the village settling into the rhythm of evening. inside, neteyam lay where you left him, though his eyes fluttered open as you stepped closer. kiri and tuk were still there, but kiri shot you a small, tired smile, relief evident in the way her shoulders sagged.

“thank you,” she murmured, barely audible, as she stood, tugging tuk up gently. tuk looked up at you, her eyes bright as she offered a tiny smile, her fingers brushing your leg as she passed by. “he’s all yours.”

you nodded, giving her a grateful look before she slipped out of the marui, tuk trailing behind her, the sound of their soft footsteps disappearing into the distance. and then there was only the quiet. the kind of quiet that settled easily between you and neteyam, comfortable, familiar, as if it had always been this way.

you knelt beside him, your eyes tracing the lines of his face, studying the way the light played over his skin. his breathing was slow, steady, and for a moment, all you could do was watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers twitched slightly as if he was reaching for something just out of grasp.

“they are gone?” his voice broke the silence, soft and low, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“they are gone,” you confirmed, your hand instinctively reaching for his cheek, fingers brushing over the warmth of his skin. it was a simple touch, one you found yourself craving more and more, needing the reassurance of his presence, of his life beneath your fingertips.

he leaned into your touch, his smile widening just a fraction, though it didn’t quite chase away the exhaustion that lingered in his eyes. “good.”

for a moment, you just sat there, letting the quiet stretch between you, not needing to fill it with words. you had said everything already, in the days following his injury, in the long hours spent by his side, watching over him while he healed. the words weren’t important. this was. being here. being with him.

the soft hum of the village outside broke the stillness, the faint sounds of preparation for the celebration beginning to drift into the marui. laughter echoed from somewhere far off, the rhythm of drums picking up in the distance, the promise of festivity hanging in the air. but you didn’t care for it, not tonight. not when neteyam was still here, still recovering. the idea of leaving him behind, of being anywhere without him, felt impossible.

“the festival,” he murmured suddenly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. his eyes opened fully now, locking onto yours with a quiet intensity. “you should go.”

your brow furrowed in confusion, tilting your head slightly as you searched his face. “why?”

“because you should,” he replied, as though the answer was obvious, his gaze flickering with something you couldn’t quite name. “you have not been out… you have not done anything in forever.”

“i do not need to,” you said simply, shrugging as though the thought had never occurred to you. because it hadn’t.

he shifted slightly, discomfort flashing briefly across his face, though he hid it well. “you should nkt miss out because of me. it is not fair.”

you blinked, the frustration flaring just beneath the surface. how could he think that? how could he even suggest that any of this was his fault, or that you were missing out on anything at all? he was here. and that was enough.

“neteyam,” you began softly, your fingers brushing over the curve of his cheekbone, trying to soothe the tension you saw building there. “i have fun wherever you are. it does not matter what is happening outside.”

his frown deepened, like he didn’t quite believe you, like he was still carrying the weight of guilt for everything that had happened—for being hurt, for making you stay. but you didn’t press him further. you knew he needed time to understand. you weren’t missing anything. the world could celebrate all it wanted outside; you’d remain here, tethered to him, with him.

the rest of the day unfolded in small moments. the kind that didn’t need words to fill them. you stayed by his side, sometimes talking, other times letting the soft sounds of the village drift in from outside, the lull of the ocean a constant, gentle presence. he watched you in those quiet moments, his eyes following you as you moved around the marui, his gaze lingering as though he needed the reassurance that you were still there, still with him.

the sun was low in the sky now, casting everything in hues of gold and pink. the sounds of the festival had grown louder, laughter mingling with the rhythmic beat of drums, the clinking of shells as decorations were strung along the walkways. the energy outside was palpable, the village alive with celebration, but inside your marui, the quiet remained.

neteyam shifted again, his body protesting the movement, though he masked the discomfort as best he could. his eyes flickered toward the entrance of the marui, the faintest trace of music filtering through the air.

he turned back to you, his gaze more focused this time, more determined. “go get something to eat.”

you blinked, your brows knitting together as you stared at him. “what?”

“food,” he repeated, his tone light but insistent. “from the festival. go grab some.”

narrowing your eyes, you studied his face. he hadn’t let you out of his sight for more than a few minutes in the past days, and now he was practically urging you to leave. “what are you planning?”

“nothing,” he replied. “i am hungry. go. please?”

your lips pressed into a thin line, clearly unconvinced, but you rose to your feet anyway, giving him one last look before slipping out of the marui. the air outside was cooler now, the night settling in around you, and you could feel the pulse of the village as you made your way toward the center, where the celebration was in full swing. your mind already drifted back to neteyam, wondering what he was up to, why he was so adamant about sending you away. it wasn’t like him. not now, not when he needed you.

the food spread along the long, low tables is almost too much to look at, piles of bright fruits and roasted fish, grains and herbs twisted into fragrant shapes, everything vibrant and rich, as though the night itself has bloomed into this feast. your fingers brush over the cool surface of a carved bowl, feeling the delicate grooves, the weight of the work that went into every small detail. you carefully fill your basket, trying not to disturb too much of the display, slipping a few extra pieces of fruit between the flatbread and smoked meats, thinking of tuk’s bright eyes when she sees what you have brought back. the thought brings a smile to your lips, but it is fleeting, tempered by the pull of responsibility that sits low in your stomach. neteyam is still weak, and you know he will not eat unless you bring him something.

“you are not staying?” tsireya’s voice is soft but lilting, a note of surprise carried by the night air as she steps toward you, her hair catching in the lantern light, strands of it glowing like spun copper. her eyes are wide and kind, her arms laden with shells strung together on thin threads, swaying with the easy grace of the ocean. she leans in, “you are always leaving so quickly. you should enjoy yourself tonight.”

you smile at her, tucking the basket closer to your side. “i wish i could,” you say, and it is the truth, though it feels like a half-formed thing on your tongue, like something left out in the sun too long. even as you speak, you feel the quiet distance between you and the festival, like you are watching it all from the other side of a glass wall. tsireya’s face softens, a flicker of understanding passing through her eyes, but before she can say anything else, tuk comes bounding up, her small hands tugging at the hem of your skirt, her face lit up with excitement.

“you have to stay for the dancing!” tuk’s voice is bright, her breath coming quick from her running. she looks up at you with such earnestness that it tugs at something in your chest, the way only a child can, her wide eyes reflecting the shimmering lights around you like she is holding the stars themselves. tsireya gives you a look, one that is all gentle encouragement, a soft nudge in the direction of the night’s festivities, and for a moment, just a moment, you consider it. staying. letting the music and laughter carry you for just a little while, letting the world slip away for a few hours. but then the weight of the basket shifts in your hands again, grounding you back to reality, and you know you cannot. not tonight.

“another time,” you say, your voice softer now, tinged with a quiet apology you hope they will understand. you brush a hand over tuk's cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin. “i promise.”

you returned as quickly as you could, stepping back into the marui with the scent of roasted fish and fruit clinging to the air. but the moment you walked inside, the food forgotten in your hands, you froze.

neteyam was standing.

his body was trembling slightly, one hand gripping the wall for support, but he was standing, his eyes bright with determination, his grin wide and boyish as he watched your stunned reaction.

“neteyam,” you whispered, barely able to speak, the shock freezing you in place. “what are you doing?”

“we are dancing,” he said simply, his voice soft but firm, as though this was the most natural thing in the world. as though this wasn’t a miracle.

you shook your head, taking a hesitant step forward, torn between wanting to scold him for pushing himself too far and being so overwhelmed with love for him you thought you might burst. “you should not be standing. you—”

but before you could finish, he reached for you, his hand catching yours gently, pulling you closer. “come on. just for a while.”

the music from the festival floated through the air, the soft, distant beat of the drums like a heartbeat, slow and steady. you let him guide you, your hands finding their way to his waist, careful not to press too hard, not to disturb the bandages still wrapped around his middle.

he moved slowly, his steps tentative but deliberate, and you moved with him, letting the rhythm carry you both, swaying gently in the small space of the marui. his breath was warm against your skin, his forehead resting against yours as you danced together, the world outside falling away.

“this is all i need,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “just you.”

you pressed your face into his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the warmth of his skin against yours. your heart swelled in your chest, the love you felt for him spilling over, too big to contain.

“you are all i need too,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, your arms tightening around him.

and as the faint music played on, you stayed there, swaying together in the dim light of the marui, the world outside forgotten, everything you needed right here, in this moment, in each other.

[neteyamu]

Idk if ur taking requests but if u do neteyam x human!reader where the reader sleep in really weird positions and him just not understanding how it could be comfortable?

pairing — neteyam x human gn!reader

genre — fluff

warnings — not proofread we die like men💪, a mild seizure joke thing (pls tell me if theres anything else <3)

wc — 736

a/n — hey love!! i dont mind taking requests as of now so if you would like to send more pls do 🫶 but i cannot guarantee that i will be able to finish writing all of them quickly, especially since i have school :(

Neteyam instantly woke up as he felt a sudden jab to his stomach. He groaned in confusion as he looked around in the dark, trying to find whatever caused the disturbance. His eyes immediately drifted to your small frame laying beside him. His eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment as he took in your position. Your right leg was stretched out and resting against his stomach, your left bent inwards but faced the other way. Your torso was leaning away from him though it turned to face him at a weird angle. And your arms were all over the place.

Neteyam was incredibly confused. How were you able to sleep peacefully like that? Was it not uncomfortable? He quietly shuffled back a bit and brought his hands towards you, gently straightening out your legs and placing you flat on your back. His hands then moved to your arms and brought them beside you. He made sure your exopack was secure before laying down again and wrapping his arms around you. Right before he fell asleep he made a mental note to himself to make fun of you in the morning for your weird sleeping position.

Neteyam grunted as he felt something poke him. Not again, he thought. Have you already started moving?! It can’t have been that long since he last fixed your posture. He decides to ignore it, maybe you’re just turning onto your side. Another poke. And then a push. Neteyam growls in frustration as he opens his eyes for the second time that night. As soon as he looks at you his eyes widen in shock. There is no way that is normal.

You are laid across the bed horizontally. your legs facing him as your head is hanging off the edge of the bed. Your right leg is folded underneath you and your left is digging into Neteyam’s abdomen. Half of your left arm is hanging off the bed beside your head and your right hand is calmly resting beside you.

Neteyam just stops and stares at you in disbelief. How is this even possible? How are you not in any pain? He can see the first rays of the sun starting to show and he gives up on trying to sleep. Neteyam sighs as he sits up and continues to stare at you. He crawls over to you and slowly pulls you back onto the bed, deciding to wake you up. He gently shakes you, but with you being so small compared to him it felt as if there was a mini earthquake happening and you jolted awake.

“‘Teyam! You almost gave me a heart attack!”, you said with your voice still groggy from sleep and your hand clutching your heart, your eyes squinting at him because of the light.

“I am really sorry yawne, but I had to ask you something”, he says with a slightly raspy voice.

You give Neteyam a nod, signalling him to go ahead.

“Are you possessed.” he asks with a straight face and you burst out laughing.

“What!?” you question in between your giggles.

“I think you should see my grandmother. Just in case.” Neteyam says so seriously you might actually piss yourself from laughing.

“Neteyam are you alright? Did you get enough sleep?”, you ask him as your giggles slowly come to a stop.

“No, in fact, I did not. You gave me nightmares. I do not know how anyone can sleep like that”, he says, shuddering as he remembered how you twisted and turned.

“Oh really? Like what”, you ask Neteyam, confusion overtaking your features.

“Like someone froze you mid seizure” he says as he gets up and stretches, walking over to grab his bow and arrows, slinging them across his back.

“Hey! That’s not very nice ‘Teyam”, you scowl at him and get out of bed as well.

“I am just being honest” he says, putting his hands up in defence.

“Anyways, I really have to go otherwise my dad will get mad, but I will see you later tonight.” Neteyam says, leaning down and giving you a quick peck on your head.

He leans down even lower and whispers into your ear.

“Maybe you should go see my grandmother while I am gone. Just to be sure you know?”

You cross your arms over your chest and glare at him as he walks backwards out the tent, laughing and waving goodbye to you.

[neteyamslovrr]

CAN I PLAY WITH YOUR HAIR

just a short little drabble <3 enjoy my loves

you sat behind neteyam, his body resting on your chest as you rested against a large tree.

"you look so pretty like this." neteyam smiled up at you, he made a conscious effort to make sure he was caressing your thighs. he wanted to hold you even if you previously insisted on holding him

"oh yeah? the pretty view where you look right up my nose"

"yup, such beautiful nostrils you have yawne." you gave him a playful as his harmonic chuckles met your ears.

" be quiet. now. you said that you'd let me do your hair. can i play with your hair now?" you batted your eyelashes playfully. he rolled his eyes as he gave in to your cuteness. how could he say no to you?

"can you put one of those pretty beads you made in my hair please beautiful?" you nodded, fiddling with the pouch that was tied to the side of your loincloth, filled with many trinkets, including the beads.

taking a handful of them you put them infront of neteyam's face. "pick a colour."

"these ones. they're my favourite." they were his favourite for a reason. teal and orange, the colours of your ikran

"okay sit still my love." you carefully braided his hair, making sure not to pull too tight.

he felt calm as you took care of him. he loved these intimate moments with you. these were the moments he fell harder for you. when he got to lay in your chest as you played with his hair. he got to be so close to you, and lay his hands on your legs. he cherished these moments.

carefully putting the beads in his hair you smiled down at him. "all done." he took the braid and fiddled with the braids

"now i am as pretty as you, my beautiful girl."

[loaksky]

— 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴

the lowdown — the one where neteyam is shackled by appearances, but you couldn’t care less. 

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 2.2k

the tags & warnings — language ,, misunderstandings (i love this trope and this is a hill i’ll die on i’m SORRY) ,, neteyam’s friends can be shitty, but mean well ,, reader just wants to love up on her boy :(

the notes — based off of this request! this is another addition to my neteyam content, but ik some of you guys are itching for some other characters, so i'm probably gonna steer in another direction & write for kiri & tsireya so if that interests you, stay tuned! <3

(not proofread well lmao)

masterlist

Neteyam is many things; a kind spirit, a fierce warrior, a loving brother, a diligent son. But Neteyam is also new to love. Not quite new to being in love, but learning the act of loving you. 

He’d found so many ways to express his heart’s desire; written notes on scraps, gentle smiles, searing eyes. It was one thing in particular, though, that made his mouth dry, made his brain nearly short circuit, and it was your need to be in his space. 

Even after many days that bleed into weeks and meld into months, you make his cheeks warm with every lingering pass of your fingertips, make his stomach knot with every fluttering kiss to his skin. 

It’d been a pleasant surprise at first, but now it was a need, an absolute necessity to have you fused to him like a second skin. Your touch was a tacit word and he was learning to speak your language. 

The two of you together was normalcy and the clan members were more than delighted to know that the olo’eyktan’s son was lucky in love. But there were teasing whispers, lilting voices in the background that made something uncomfortable pinch the back of his brain. 

His skin would light up with equal parts want and embarrassment when you’d hang loosely around him during evening meals and the villagers his age would giggle and murmur behind their palms about the two of you. Didn’t help that you were an oblivious thing, or maybe you didn’t care, when you’d hold his hand in your own, occasionally bringing his fingertips to your lips during casual conversation. 

And he didn’t mind loving you endlessly when you were just two souls enjoying each other, but he can’t help but tense when his eyes wander and he sees watchful gazes. 

“Mighty warrior is a needy one, huh?” 

His friends, comrades since childhood, surround him on a sunny afternoon. Neteyam pauses his actions, arrow in the midst of a sharpening. 

His spine goes rigid and his eyes narrow. 

“What are you on about?” he asks, jaw locking. 

“Even in the moments you aren’t with her, you’re thinking about her,” his friend Marin says with a shiteating grin. 

“Don’t even,” Neteyam warns, eyes rolling as he continues with sharpening his arrows. 

“Oh, come on,” another one of his friends guffaws, twining a new bow string. “You haven’t said a word since we sat down.” 

And he wishes he could form a solid argument, but you are on his mind, all-consuming as always. Can’t help it when he’s pined after you for years and only recently found the courage to act on his heart. 

“Maybe I just don’t want to engage with you assholes,” Neteyam bites, fist tightening around his dagger. 

“Yeah, because if you open your mouth, all you’ll be able to talk about is my girl this and my girl that,” Marin teases. “Who knew future olo’eyktan was so clingy.” 

“Yeah, like it’s me who’s clingy,” he grunts, resuming the task at hand with much more fervor. 

“Is it not?” Marin challenges. “Oh, ________, my love, look at these flowers I picked for you.” 

The blood is rushing to his ears as his friends howl with laughter. 

“Syulang, I wrote you twelve pages declaring my love even though we’ve seen each other thrice since last eclipse.” The taunting makes him seethe, makes the feeling of discomfort surface all over again and the words are spilling before he can plug the dam. 

“Of course it’s not me,” Neteyam scoffs. “I keep my composure, but it’s her that insists on constantly reminding the village that we’re together. If I had it my way, nothing would have changed from when we were friends.”

It’s a lie and he knows it, his friends know it. But you, you who staggers outside of the training circle at the sound of multiple voices don’t know it. 

It’s like a swift strike to the gut, one that squashes every butterfly that tickled the lining of your stomach on your way to fetch the very man who’d held your heart and crushed it all the same. 

Your satchel, heavy with fruits and snacks for after your evening swim with Neteyam, weighs heavy across your front as you debate whether or not you should be listening to a conversation that is obviously not meant for your ear. But it’s like you’re rooted to the soil beneath you. 

“Yeah, okay,” Marin chuffs, obviously not convinced. “If you’re so bothered by your dynamic now, there isn’t any reason why you wouldn’t say anything. She’s your second skin and you love it.” 

He does, he thinks to himself. 

Of course he doesn’t, you realize, horrified, the thousand and one times your hands would find his body and he’d tense or shy away replaying like a horror reel in your brain. 

“I potentially hold the future of this clan in my hands,” Neteyam says. “It is my duty to endure all things whether or not I enjoy it.”

It’s like you’re doused with water so cold at the violent shiver that shakes your spine. 

Just another thing to endure, you mull over in your brain as the barge of emotions brims dangerously near the surface. 

You break from the edge of the clearing and you’re off. 

Something is off. 

And Neteyam is ashamed to admit that it takes him obnoxiously long to notice. Maybe it’s because he’s caught up in his duties, or maybe for once in his life, he isn’t worrying about meddlesome gazing, but the shift is imperceptible. 

You’re still you, so aching beautiful and devastatingly radiant, but something is different. He doesn’t pinpoint it until he’s bidding you a farewell, leaning into your space to plant a kiss on your lips when you ease away to beam at him nervously instead. 

His brows furrow when you wave, breaking away from him to scurry home. 

He thinks it’s a one off, something he shouldn’t read too much into, but he can’t help it. Not when he’s so used to your touch, so used to feeling the pads of your fingers denting his skin and the scald of your lips. 

He tries again a few nights later, after finally getting you alone. He’d been busy assisting his father in planning a raid at the end of the month and you were busy trying to put as much distance between the two of you.

“You’re awfully quiet, bug,” Neteyam observes softly, chin dipping under the water as he swims closer to where you float on the surface, eyes closed. 

You only hum, pleading silently that he’ll let it pass. But when his fingers skim your navel, you’re jerking away from him, settling so that a berth of glittering blue separates the two of you. 

He forces a laugh, wading closer to you as you seemingly shrink. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks when he sees something like discomfort flitting over your expression, concern eclipsing his features as he reaches forward to grab you by your arm. 

“Nothing…” you swallow, staring at the rounded stones beaded through the necklace you made him early on in your budding relationship.

He doesn’t buy it, tilting your chin up with deft fingers. 

“Hey, hey,” he says softly, searching your face for a tell. “Talk to me.” 

“Nothing,” you breathe, peeling away from him to wade back towards the embankment. “It’s nothing.” 

He watches as you hoist yourself up from the river, heart in his throat. 

He cracks when the others seem to notice, slowly catching onto the fact that the usually doting and loving partner of the olo’eyktan’s son is surprisingly distant. It’s during an evening meal, villagers surrounding the multiple fires, when it comes to a head. 

There’s an unusual space between your bodies as you chat with Kiri and a few others and he can’t help but close the gap as something akin to desperation washes over him. His fingers brush the span of your shoulders to pull you into his chest, lips a hairsbreadth from your temple before your palm snakes between your bodies and plants on his chest to nudge him away. 

He bites the inside of his cheek in annoyance as Marin and his other friends share knowing glances. 

While he boils silently, you ache to tell him that you don’t mean it, that there’s nothing more you’d want than to spend every waking moment in his arms, but that day in the clearing is a humiliating reminder that Neteyam is shackled to his honor and if it means making you happy despite his discomfort, he’d endure it all. 

You hate it, hate that he’d let you feel like things were alright leading up to this moment, that he’d suffer at the expense of mocking and badgering from his friends. Makes you feel embarrassed, sorry, that you’d read the two of you all wrong. 

You feel his fingers inching towards yours, pinkie overlapping with yours. Your hands involuntarily close into fists and that’s all it takes for Neteyam to shoot up from his perch on the log and take you by the elbow. 

There’s a hush as his friends and yours watch the two of you part ways with the group, the nearly feral look in their leader’s son suggestively mistaken. 

“Why won’t you touch me?” Neteyam asks fiercely, once enough distance lies between the two of you and the rest of the clan. 

His words make your cheeks warm, but he looks troubled, hurt. 

“I-” 

“Did I do something to disgust you? Did I…” 

His words melt into the background as you watch him with teary eyes. 

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Teyam,” you whisper. “You can tell me the truth. I’m a big girl.” 

“What are you talking about?” he asks, frustrated. “You’re the one hiding something. These past few weeks I’ve been trying to be with you, trying to love you and you keep pushing me away.” 

A twinge of annoyance erupts in the pit of your belly as you frown. 

“That’s rich coming from you,” you murmur hoarsely. 

“I’m so lost right now, ________,” he admits desperately. “We were fine, everything was great, and suddenly I feel like I’m losing you. Did I do something? Are you–” 

“Just be honest with me!” you cry out. “Why do you have to put on this front all the time? It’s just me, Neteyam! If I overwhelm you, if I embarrass you, just say it! It hurts worse when you act like it’s nothing.” 

And Christ, his friends were right. He is needy. Because you’re not a want but a lifeline. A dire necessity that he feels the need to cling to in this moment. This feels a lot like you two are splintering, and he’s about to open his mouth to ask what would compel you to say such a thing, but then it clicks. 

The final piece of the puzzle that he’d been agonizing over falls into place and his eyes are widening. 

“No,” he says vehemently. “That wasn’t–” 

“Is it not?” you cut him off as you dash the threatening tears away. 

“God, no,” he breathes. “I was– They were…”

You watch him with wet lashes and his heart aches as he takes the leap and pulls you into his chest with a shuddering breath. 

“I’m so stupid.” His chest rumbles as your ear presses to his heart, arms winding tightly around your figure to buoy you to place. “Fuck.” 

You hiccup and his hand cradles your head, peppering kisses against your hair as he sways your bodies like it’ll disorient the miscommunication and send it spiraling away. 

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “I didn’t mean to be embarrassing. I–” 

“No, no, bug,” he swallows, hugging you so tight, you struggle to suck a breath into your lungs. “You’re not, I promise. I could never be embarrassed by you.” 

You shudder so hard his grip loosens, parting with you to cup your flushed cheeks in his hands. 

“They were ripping me a new one,” he says shakily. “Told me I was needy, clingy, and I was embarrassed because they’re right.” 

Your throat bobs and Neteyam’s thumb brushes over the apple of your cheeks. 

“You make me so weak, you don’t even understand,” he laughs humorlessly, body wracked with nerves, with want, with need. “I said it to save face because I never know what to do with myself around you.”

“You—”

“And I know it was wrong, talking out of my ass to get them to shut the fuck up,” his language is a crass reminder that he’s a former marine’s son, “but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being yours.” 

Yours. 

It’s a sound declaration, one that makes you crumple like a baby because you’ve missed your person, and Neteyam hugs you close again. 

“I’m sorry I’m so clueless sometimes, bug,” he whispers, cheek nuzzling the top of your head. “Love you more than anything, I mean it.”

You hiccup again. 

“Love you, too, stupid” you mumble, arms wrapping around the narrow of his waist. 

It’s your first meaningful touch in weeks and Neteyam melts under the heat of your body, under the heat of your warm hands. 

neng © 2023

taglist; @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn , @fanboyluvr , @neteyamoa , @itssiaaax , @girlpostingsposts , @athenachu

[askinkiskarma]

more stepbro neteyam please im begging you on my knees pls

thank you to @cinetrix

warnings: smut (stepcest, p in v, semi-public sex - people are sleeping in same tent, pet names, slight praise kink, slight softdom!neteyam), strong language, cursing

wc: 1.7k words

You awake from your slumber with a low groan at the way the chills have overtaken your body, the dead of night furthering the discomfort you feel and the way you come to yearn for muted alleviation. You look around your adoptive family’s marui, desperate to find someone you could cuddle up to, anyone who could provide your body the warmth it craved.

Despite how much they bickered, Lo’ak and Kiri were twin souls, and they always made peace at night, sharing a woven blanket and a warm embrace. You smiled at them, shaking your head lightly at how easily forgotten all their fights seemed to be as soon as eclipse took over the land, as soon as the cover of bioluminescent darkness enveloped their consciousness. Tuk was nestled tightly in between Jake and Neytiri, and you were almost worried she would be suffocated in their grasp, one of each their arms meeting on her tiny frame, holding her close.

That left Neteyam, who seemed fast asleep on one side, one of his arms beneath his head and the other rested carelessly over his waist and abdomen, and you couldn’t help stare at this man you loved like a brother, but ached for in ways that made you ashamed and embarrassed, that you could never admit to out loud, that you were scared to even think about most days, afraid that the intensity of those thoughts was so loud, they could be heard, and Eywa, that would lead to a whole slew of issues you were too scared to even conceptualise.

But despite the way you hindered your own brain from deliberating on the way you wanted him in ways you could never have him, it didn’t stop said brain from manifesting your wildest desires in dreams and reveries, in the way you woke up each night sweating and with slick running down your ass or thighs and soaking into your mat, the way it was taunting you with images of his body, strong and powerful, muscular and lean, contracting and flexing as his cock sank deeper and deeper in you, filling the void you felt every day of your life, that you only want him to fill. 

You get up quietly and make your way to him, dragging your thin covers with you to where he lay, getting on your side so your back was to him, nuzzling until you felt his chest taut against you, until his heartbeat rang loudly in you, until it overtook your own, until it was all you heard, and all you felt. The closeness hurt you, the ache reaching new heights, and it was overwhelming as his hand instinctively reached for your body, in his sleep, his touch lighting your skin on fire, his fingers lingering on your ribs. His unyielding grip pulled you so close, your ass was rested against his groin, and you let out a sharp exhale when you noticed he was hard, when you noticed his loincloth was damp. His voice startled you as he spoke, quiet as the night that still blanketed your world and your progressively untethered self, doing a good job of hiding your disheveled form or the blush in your cheeks, but not a good job at protecting you from the increase luminosity of your freckles or the moans that escaped you when his thick cock brushed against your folds. 

“What are you doing here, pretty girl?” His mouth was near your lips, his breath fanning over the side of your face and neck, sending chills down your body and all of a sudden you didn’t know whether you were cold or hot anymore, your body struggling to comprehend all the sensations being elicited in it, in you. 

You swallowed loudly, trying to find your voice in your throat and breath in your lungs enough to be able to pull together a string of sounds that would sound normal and relaxed, and not breathy and wanting, like you knew they would be. 

“I’m cold, ’Teyam, and you were the only lonely one.” He let out a quiet chuckle and his hand started tracing your body softly, a touch so light it was barely there, and the chills deepened, goosebumps appearing in his touch’s wake. 

“Well, not anymore, and thank fuck for cold nights, huh?” his hands didn’t stop when they reached your navel, slowly inching their way south, and you whimpered a little knowing where they were going, unwilling and unable to understand what was happening to you, whether this was a dream or a nightmare, whether you were actually living this and it wasn’t just a vivid vision here to taunt you, before morning came and took it away from you forever. 

“Neteyam, what are you doing?” Your voice was breathy and weak, but alert nonetheless, aware of the situation and your adoptive family sleeping peacefully next to you, and how easy it would be for anyone to wake up and any point and witness this. The shame and fear was almost as overwhelming to you as the desire to give in to him, no questions asked, no care in the world for consequences and risks as long as it ended with your eyes rolled in the back of your head and his cum dripping down you thighs. 

“I’m not doing anything, little sis. Just here to make sure you’re… warm. What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t help my step-sister when she clearly needs me?” The amused tone in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, and neither did the way his fingers slipped past your loincloth and found your clit, that was swollen and needy, or the way they ghosted over it and your folds in scant, fluttery touches.

“Your smell has been driving me crazy for weeks, sevin. For weeks, I’ve had to pretend to be ignorant of the way your scent has been calling out to me, your pheromones washing over me and making my cock so hard, I can’t concentrate anymore. For weeks, I have dreamt of fucking you, of slipping my cock past your sopping folds, dreamt of seeing you come apart around me. It’s so fucking wrong, but so are you. And so am I.” You shuddered at his words and how his sharp canines dragged along your pulse point, at how his fingers stilled on your clit, not giving you the release you desperately craved, at how his lips pressed on your jaw and sucked, or how they licked the spot that was now slightly hurting, immediately alleviating any discomfort you felt. 

“But I need to hear you say it, baby girl. I can’t do anything until you say it. Do you want your step brother to fuck you?” 

A moan and a small nod is all you managed in response, but it was enough for Neteyam, who started a slow caress of your bud, putting just enough pressure to make you pant, to adjust your position so he would get better access, arching your back so that your ass was pressed even tighter against him and he groaned lowly, the sound making you clench around thin air. 

“Please, Neteyam…” 

“What is it, pretty girl? What do you need?”

“You… your cock, please.” His groan evolved into a quiet growl, reverberating in the marui and you both stilled as Kiri shifted a little in her sleep. Her deep breaths put you both at ease, if only a little. 

“You drive me fucking crazy, you know that? Do you have any idea what you do to me? What I’ll do to you?” 

You felt his cock brush against your folds as he released it from the constraints of his nightwear, and the velvety feel of his thick length made your head fall back into the crook of his neck, needing every spare ounce of self-restraint not to moan so loudly it wouldn’t just be heard in your family’s tent, but in the whole clan. His tip prodded at your soaking wet entrance, and when he slipped past your folds and into you, each inch felt like every one of your dreams come true, and you no longer had enough brain power to stop the mewling sounds escaping you. 

“You need to be quiet, sevin. You don’t want anybody to hear, now do you? What do you think our parents would say if they saw how deep in your pretty little cunt I am, huh?”

When he bottomed out, his tip was pushed against your cervix and the way he filled you up was beyond any fantasy, better than even the most intense ones, the wildest ones, the best ones. 

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. Who knew my little step sister would take my cock so well, like this tight pussy was made for me?” 

He started an unrushed, languid pace of his hips, that got quicker and more aggressive, more desperate and sloppy as his own orgasm approach and you felt yours taking over you slowly, raising in intensity as his fingers continued their ministrations of your clit at the same time, until it was so intense it was overpowering and oppressive, until you needed to let it out so you wouldn’t collapse under its weight. 

“I can feel you squeezing me, baby. You want to milk me, want to take my cum like the good girl you are?” 

You nodded furiously, and his whispered, breathy “Then come for me, pretty girl. I want to feel you, all of you.” pushed you over the edge, your orgasm violent and unending, streams of liquid mixing with his own release as you squirted all over his cock, making a mess of both your loincloths and the sleeping mat underneath. You couldn’t care less about explaining yourself, not when your head was empty and your cunt full, the only way you wanted to be every day going forward, for the rest of your life. 

You both came off your high panting, struggling to catch your breath and any thoughts swirling aimlessly in your brain, and you couldn’t find it in you to move, and he couldn’t find it in him to pull out, so you just lay like that, him spooning you closely, licking stripes over your neck and jaw, and you felt desire build in you again, instant and frenzied.

“Next time, how about we put that pretty mouth of yours to good use, huh?” 

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia

[cordyce]

BY YOUR HANDS ALONE

neteyam sully x gn!reader

notes: this is silly & overtly fluffy & all over the place if i am completely honest rn. neteyam is a little flustered & probably ooc. sorry :’)

"there you are."

"here i am," you mirror back instantly, hardly sparing a glance up at the far too familiar voice as your fingers continue to work at chopping up some vegetables. it's a busy day—a momentous day. there is no time to waste.

"let me help," neteyam offers, already making moves to steal your knife from you as he steps to your side.

but you weave it away from his grasp, nudge him back with your shoulder and point the knife at him as you address him. "aht, don't think so," you differ, then continue your slicing. "besides, don't you have your own tasks to get to, mr. mighty warrior?"

days like this require a lot of preparation; everyone chipping in and doing their part so that it all gets done and runs smoothly. if even one person slacks off, it could cause a rift in sanctified plans. and that simply wouldn’t do. no, it would not.

"i have completed all of them, actually," he retorts, but he shrivels when you narrow your eyes up at him. "okay, almost all of them."

you scoff, let your pupils meet your sockets with a roll as you pry the truth out of him. of course, one of the most important days of the year and it is now that neteyam chooses to have an irresponsible whim. you aren’t sure what you’re gonna do with him.

"your mother will have your tail if she finds one thing out of place for tonight, you know this." it isn't necessarily a warning, but there is some tip-off in your tone. "you must get everything done."

neteyam hums, leans his hip against the raised wood that you are using as a makeshift counter. he says nothing, simply watches you. takes into account how you dice up the vegetables in front of you diligently before sliding them to the side with your knife and moving onto the next ones. his stare is driving you crazy—no one works well under pressure, after all.

it causes you to have a slight blunder; a misstep. you cut a pattern a tad too fast and send a slice of root tumbling towards the ground. neteyam's instincts are superb, quick, and he catches it before it hits the dirt. mumbling a thank you under your breath as he places it back on the tray, you find the heir before you still not making a move to speak.

you aren't sure why it unnerves you so.

"what do you have left to complete?" it's not the question you want to ask, but 'what the hell do you keep staring at?' doesn't sound quite as nice. so you settle on it.

you take a pause, a breath, to turn to him. throughout the years you have seen the eldest sully child wear many expressions. ones tainted by smiles, irritation, pride, devotion—but this one has you tipping your head in the most peculiar way.

because timidness is not something you think you've ever seen don the strong features of neteyam sully.

he carries himself with such an air of confidence; shoulders pressed back and chin held high—not arrogant, but undaunted. he does not shift gaze unless he is avoiding scoldings and he does not suck in his cheek unless he is fighting frustration. so, you wonder, what could possibly have his face contorted in such a reticent manner. if you did not know any better, you’d almost call his demeanor a rendition of shy. but that seems rather uncharacteristic of him, doesn’t it?

"ah—are you sure you don't need help with that?" he's deflecting, brushing off your inquiry like he hasn't heard it. and you can't decide whether you find that amusing or concerning.

he's making way for your knife again and you twist your arm to hold it out of his reach behind you. you eye him carefully, flit your gaze all around him to pick up on anything that you can that would explain his behavior.

"tell me." it's not an order, you aren't demanding, but neteyam nods his head like he's respondent of such.

"my father told me i needed a, uhm," he stutters, licks his lips, like he's tripping over his own tongue. and it's undeniable the way you see his ears twitch. "for the celebration tonight. i need a.."

"a what, neteyam?" you press, cock your brow up at him. you don't think you've ever seen him like this. never witnessed him so.. "you need a what?"

"a.. date."

so fidgety.

"a date?" you repeat with widening eyes.

"no, no not a—not a date really but i need someone for the—“

"the staining ceremony.” you finish for him, continue his sentence because with all his blubbering you aren’t sure he’ll ever spit it out.

he nods curtly.

the celebration tonight is for all the young warriors who have proved themselves throughout the calendar year as being strong willed and great protectors of the clan. neteyam, of course, is one of them. has been since he earned the right to be titled as such. so perhaps it should have clicked in your head that he’d be searching for a partner for the staining ceremony portion of the night.

but a part of you—if you’re being completely honest with yourself—just figured he had one already. events like this take weeks of planning; most warriors find their artisan a fortnight in advance. because it cannot just be anyone.

the partner one chooses for the staining ceremony must be someone with whom they feel a connection. some of the older warriors choose their mates. some of the youngest choose their mother or father. some settle for siblings. others, in brazen acts of outstretched hands, choose a mate unbonded; one who they harbor feelings for but have yet to seal such in the eyes of Eywa.

you cannot lie and say you had not pondered over who neteyam’s choice would be. a part of you thought he would pick kiri—they have always been so close and she has been his partner for such ceremony before. but, you are not deaf to the murmurs of your village, you are not ignorant of what has been passed from mouth to ear of all that will listen. there have been other… prospects who have been suggested to neteyam for this special commemoration.

your name has not been among them.

“well,” you continue, tear your eyes away from him and get back to the task at hand. there is no need to dwell on such things and fall behind. you have just one more batch of greens after this to prepare then you will be done and can walk away from all this. “if you’re here to ask my opinion on who your choice should be, i’m not sure i will prove to be much help.”

a shut down; a cut off. you’d like this conversation to be over as soon as possible because it’s making your fingers itch. you’re offering him a gateway to close the topic off.

but he doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“no,” he chuckles, now, and you can tell he’s shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. it’s breathy; like he’s punched it out of his chest and finally broken past the barrier of whatever flusteredness had him trapped before. “that’s not why i came to find you.”

“if it’s to convince kiri to sacrifice herself to do it for you again this year, i’m not game for that either.” you don’t understand why his laughter leaves you agitated, why this whole situation has caused an odd twisting in your gut.

“that won’t be necessary,” he disputes, “i do not need kiri to be my partner this year.”

your fingers fumble, your slicing stutters. “oh?” and you want to kick yourself for how your voice hitches. you clear your throat, bite the corner of your lip that neteyam can’t see. “convince some other poor soul to do it for you? is it zuy’nik? i know she presented you a kill from her hunt recently.”

neteyam hums. “no. i have not chosen zuy’nik.”

you grip your knife harder, focus carefully on the blade as you chop down on a bundle of leaves. your throat is dry, your heart is thundering. you feel silly.

“sënuul, then?” you question, do your best to sound as disinterested as possible even though your chest is burning to know who could be lucky enough to have been picked by the heir himself. “i hear many young warriors wish for her. they say she has delicate hands.”

your hands—in contrast—have grown tense; your chops near erratic. being this worked up over a man who is not your mate seems so futile, so nonsensical. if your mother were here to see you now she’d call you childish.

but is it so childish to want things your heart yearns for?

“while that may be true,” neteyam agrees with the sentiment, and that makes your stomach lurch, “it is not sënuul either.”

“then who is it? who could you possibly—“

a hand covering yours has you cutting yourself off. neteyam’s palm melds over your knuckles; stops your unsafe cutting and stills your wrist’s movements. before you can even bring yourself to look at him, calloused fingers are hooking around your chin. swiveling your head around, you have no choice but to meet his gaze. and it is not averting, not twinkling with tepidness like it was before. you think, for a moment, that’s because he’s passed the feeling onto you.

“i do not wish for any other partner in this clan.” and his voice does not waver, does not stumble, now. you swallow as you listen. “i came here to ask if you would do me the honors, for tonight.”

your tongue feels like cotton; the fuzz of it floating to your brain to make everything go static. this is.. not what you had expected.

you had expected to follow neytiri’s orders for preparing the food for the meals that would be shared. you had expected to dress yourself in the ceremonial clothing and jewelry you keep for these special occasions. you had expected to stand around the edges of the circle during the opening dance, serve food to the elders, and sit with a content tight smile as you watched kiri declare neteyam’s war paint for the third year in a row before the true celebration began.

you had not expected yourself to be standing face to face with neteyam, ears twitching embarrassingly sporadic, as he asks you to join him in one of the most intimate and important events of a warrior’s life.

and you suppose you can use that element of surprise as the reason why you find yourself a tad bit speechless while you nod dumbly. a wide grin cracks across his face, curves up his cheeks as he lets out another breathy laugh.

“thank you,” he murmurs, and he still hasn’t let go of your chin. “i was worried i would not get the chance to ask you in time. i was pushing it, but i tried to get all my other duties done as fast as i could.”

now that, the mention of time, finally knocks you out of your little lovesick trance.

“hey, wait,” you huff, shove at his chest lightly with your free hand. “you should have asked me sooner! i should have already had your stain pattern planned out, and—and now i have to go get all of your paints and i didn’t factor in the time for that. you’re terrible!”

“ah, i’m not terrible. i am sure you can just wing it,” he waves off, simpers like this is funny.

“wing it?” you gape at him. because he genuinely cannot be serious. “this will be your war paint pattern for the rest of the year. if it’s bad then you will be stuck with it. you want me just to wing that?!”

“why not? i have faith in you, i’ve put myself into your hands.” and it’s meant to playful, you know this, but the way he’s looking at you proves his words hold their full weight regardless. “don’t be mad at me.”

“oh, i’m mad,” you retort, brush him away as you get back to slicing because now you really do not have the time for distractions. “i cannot believe you have waited until last minute.”

“would you like me to ask someone else?” he queries, and you whip your head over to level him with a glare. “i mean, i am sure sënuul would be honored to be the partner of the future olo’eyktan.”

“you know, i liked you better when you were sputtering and nervous,” you spit back, retract your attention once again. “terrible. truly terrible.”

“ah, do not be mad at me,” he levels again, “what can i do to have you forgive me?”

“nothing. you will never be forgiven.” with no hesitation, but also no malice. your bite holds no venom, and your cheeks are still warm. such hypocrisy you spew.

“nothing?” he questions, and you don’t even have to see his face to know he is smiling. there he is again; the neteyam who holds his chin up high and taunts his brother into mindless games to prove his worth. you admire this neteyam; love this neteyam.

this neteyam grabs your face and tugs you forward before you can think of another mindless rebuttal to spout.

the kiss is light but fervent, and if you were a poetic person you might just say that his lips taste like future promises you already intend to keep. the fight drains from your body and you find no urge to bring it back. this neteyam seems to know how to quell you, how to dispel your frustration and wipe away your grievances like fogged up glass. so easy, so effortlessly.

he pulls away languidly, breath puffing against your lips. "forgive me?" he asks again, and you find yourself nodding before he even finishes the question.

he turns your head to peck your cheek then drops his hands to finally successfully steal the knife still held in yours. you tip your head, blinking through the daze to inquire what he's doing.

"i can finish that, you know."

"i know," he answers, then flashes you a crooked grin that has your stomach twisting in a way far different than before. "but don't you think you should start planning how you want to trail your hands over me?"

and, oh. part of you wants to hit him for that. but part of you wants to tug him in by the neckpiece he dons and get him to shut up by an alternative method.

as you reach forward to run your hand ever so heedlessly up his chest, a faux illusion of planning your mapping, you think you might just settle on the latter.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

[luvv4j4ybe11]

Girlie please I need whiny and moany and subby neteyam so much,you write him so good🙏😭😭

OO YES😩 the way I ran to fucking write this!, and tysm, baby love<3

Not proof read!! Sorry if there’s errors honeys

Warnings: p n v, riding, overstimulation, teyam starts to cry a lil bit bc he’s so overwhelmed, reader is mean, dom!reader, sub!teyam, and i think that’s it. Lmk if I missed anything, enjoy<3

Dividers by ~ @cafekitsune

It was hard at first for Neteyam to feel comfortable enough around you to be submissive, but once you got the “go-ahead” he turns into complete putty in your hands once you take control.

You’ve been riding him for what seems like hours, your soft, velvety walls milking him of all he’s worth as he cums inside of you pathetically because it’s just too good:(.

His big hands travel all over your plush curves, his way of desperately trying to tell you to slow down. And even when he does speak up all that comes out is a choked out whimper or broken moan.

“Awh..but tey I thought you wanted this?, poor boy can’t handle when mommy uses you? How pathetic.” He’d be so embarrassed after hearing the low whine that comes from his mouth after you say that, cock twitching and drooling inside of you just because of your voice.

The more the cruel, soft coos leave your mouth plump lips the more his eyes would start to burn with tears, biting down on his bottom lip so hard blood starts pouring from it;which you lick up eagerly.

He’d ask you so nicely for permission to cum whenever he’s close too, babyboy would be babbling complete nonsense but he’s really trying so hard to be a good boy for you:(, and the little huff that’d come from him when you deny him too, ugh. He would just squeeze your hips/ass/ or tits in frustration, and get even more frustrated when that gets him even closer.

“Yawne, p-please..please I-..wanna..cum, please~” he’d plead with you shakily, using all of his power to form a single sentence so he can fill your tight cunt with his hot, sticky cum. All you do is laugh though, leaning in to wrap you arms around his neck, pressing your soft tits against his toned chest. A sensation that makes him groan deeply. “Mhm..not yet. I’m so so close so just hold on a little longer, ‘Kay?….good.” You’d coo before placing a loving kiss on his nose.

A small frown adorns his lips when you deny him, looking up at you with the most pathetic tear filled doe eyes you’ve ever seen. Ewya, he’s the cutest.

The way his strong arms wrapped around your middle was almost like a silent plea for you to keep going. No matter how much he came he couldn’t get enough of your slick cunt, as if it was made for him.

You swear his noises get louder and needier with the way he was buried into your chest, rambling about whoever knows the closer he feels you get.

Your hips stutter once you’re on the brink of your orgasm, a sign Neteyam knew all too well from how many times he’s made you do the same.

“Teyam.. m’close..need you to cum with me, ok?” You feel his arms and tail squeeze you like a vice, and his hips buck up into you sloppily to match your own sloppy thrust. A whispered “mhm~” leaves his lips before you clamp down onto him, the intensity of your orgasm making you whimper in his ear shamelessly.

Between your noises, your soft body pressed against him, the tightness of your cunt, and your addictingly strong scent, he was cumming instantly. Shooting thick ropes of his warm load into your greedy hole.

It wasn’t until you pulled away from him that his he realized his face was covered in tears, something that breifly made him embarrassed before he felt you hold his face reassuringly.

“Such a pretty boy f’me, you know that?” You l encourage subtly, causing his tail to sway like a little happy puppy. “Could say the same about you, babygirl,” he replied through labored breathes, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on your lips. The sensation of his lips instantly making you clench around him, erupting an another low groan from him.

You lift up your hips slowly as you lean into him, cupping his face in your soft hands as you gently bounce on his overstimulated cock that was still achingly hard for you. “Think you can give me one more, my sweet boy?”

A/N~ I need..I need a minute after this one. I’ve never been so soaked in my life istg😭 but btw if any one of my nonnies wants an emoji just put it after you send in an ask/request and that’ll be your emoji 4L😛. Besides all that tho, ima take my ass to bed, love you guys, stay safe, and mwah stay hydrated💕

Duces🫶🏽,

luvv4j4ybe11

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Taglist~ @tallulah477 , @hotdsworld , @plooto , @blue-slxt , @itchaboi-itchyboy , @xylianasblog , @etherial-moon-blog , @criticallybella , @professional-yapper , @rivatar , @aperiraa

(If youd like to be added or removed to my general taglist, comment under this and lmk! And if your @ isn’t working, please check your settings💕)

[simpforboys]

could you please write about neteyam purring while cuddling with his secret gf human!reader? maybe he gets embarrassed because he knows humans don’t purr

your boyfriend would often sneak you out of the lab during the late hours of the night.

he would insist on taking you by ikran, but clinging onto your 8’ boyfriend while soaring thousands of feet into the air just didn’t seem safe to you.

however, when he gave you those ridiculous puppy dog eyes, you would accept.

and it would always be worth it.

time like this, away from everyone. you laid on neteyam, his body much, much larger than yours.

you would stroke his braids, feeling him tightly squeeze you against him as he cuddled up into you.

you were laying up at the stars when a noise came from your partner. startled, you peered up to see him purring softly against you as he lightly slept.

you grinned, laughing slightly as his eyes peeked open.

“purring, baby?” you teased, your small hand rubbing against his large cheek.

neteyam blushed, ears down in embarrassment.

“when your avatar is made, you will soon purr like us.”

“i don’t know about all that…”

he teasingly flipped you over, threatening to lay on top of you.

you gasped as he put almost all his weight, purring into your ear as you laughed.

“can’t breathe-“ you huffed, his body cutting off the mask circulation.

“purr into my ear and i’ll get up.” he smirked.

“humans don’t purr, ‘teyam.” you stuck your tongue out at him.

“then i guess no breathing.” he shrugged, snuggling into you once more.

you tried your best to let out a gentle purr, but it ended up sounding like a dying cat. neteyam laughed at you, now making your face grow warm in embarrassment.

“go back to sleep, big kitty cat.” you hummed as he pulled your body into his.

[lovemyavatar]

my baby neteyam, with the prompt “don’t cum yet” 💜

Neteyam x Reader

Warnings: nsfw, soft dom Neteyam

“Don’t cum yet.” Neteyam orders, chest heaving from the way he thrusts into you rapidly.

A whine of frustration falls past your lips, eyes screwing shut as you try suppressing quickly mounting pleasure. He’s got both of your legs over his shoulders, nearly folding you in half as he leans forward, drilling into you roughly.

“Please, ‘Teyam, I can’t—”

“Come on, be a good girl and hold it for me.”

You whimper pathetically, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes, head shaking from side to side.

“I can’t, I can’t—”

He growls low in his chest, thumb finding your clit to circle it gently. You jerk against him, overstimulated pussy clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you? Alright then, cum. Cum all over my cock.”

You instantly obey, shattering around him as pleasure surges through every inch of your body. He’s quick to follow, filling you to the brim with his release as he groans and pants into your ear.

[d0llcuries]

LYING HAS TO STOP

pairing(s): neteyam x fem!na'vi reader

summary: neteyam is haunted by memories he shared with you before he left for awa'atlu

author's note: i think this could technically count as angst but it's more melancholic to me, there's just lots of longing. consider this a warning i suppose. i really can't put it here but listen to “lying has to stop” by clairo while reading for the best experience!! unrelated but i have midterms tomorrow and i haven't studied #yolo !!! 😜 (help me)

neteyam stood on the shore of awa’atlu, watching the sky, it's orange and pink light reflecting off the vast, endless sea. the sky here always seemed too wide, too open, nothing like the comforting embrace of the forest canopy he had grown up beneath. here, there were no towering trees to shelter him, the cool breeze that came off the ocean didn’t carry the scent of the forest, of wet earth and soft moss.

two years had passed since they fled. two years since the sully family left their home, their people, and everything they had known. awal'atu, for all its beauty, for all the new skills and wonders he had discovered, this place would never be home.

home was where she was.

he glanced down at the bracelet that circled his wrist, a simple thing—woven vines and tiny purple and blue beads. he hadn’t taken it off since the day she gave it to him. the memory of that moment was burned into his mind, one of the last things he could hold onto when everything else had been stripped away.

the way her wide, tear-filled eyes had stared up at him, as if she couldn’t quite believe he was leaving. he explained everything to her, his voice breaking as he explained why they couldn’t stay. she had understood, of course. she always understood. but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

the day his family decided to leave the omaticaya had been one of the worst of his life. the guilt of it still weighed heavily on his shoulders. they had no choice—quaritch wasn’t just hunting his father, he was hunting all of them. staying would have put their entire clan in danger, would have brought death and destruction to their people. but leaving... leaving meant abandoning the life they had built. it meant leaving her.

he could still feel the soft warmth of her hands, the trembling in her fingers as they brushed against his skin. and he could still hear the way her voice had cracked when she told him she loved him, right before she kissed him as if for the first time. her lips soft and trembling, her breath warm and uneven, the way she had pressed herself so close to him, as if she were trying to imprint herself into his very soul. he had kissed her back just as fiercely, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded, the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

his heart ached at the memory. every night he replayed it over and over, the feel of her, the taste of her, the way her breath had hitched in her throat when he deepened the kiss. he could still taste the salt of her tears, mingling with the sweetness of her lips. it had been bittersweet—knowing it was a goodbye, even if she had promised it wasn’t forever.

forever, neteyam. i’ll wait forever.

he wanted to believe her. he had to believe her. but the distance between them seemed to grow wider with each passing day.

bitterness haunted his heart at the thought of what should have been. they were supposed to be mated by now. it was all so clear back then, so simple. it wasn’t even a question of if, but when. he could still remember the way she had smiled when he first mentioned the possibility of them being mated, how her cheeks had flushed a soft shade of violet, her eyes bright with excitement. he remembered how shy she had been at first, her hands fidgeting nervously as she offered him a carved trinket she had made. a symbol of their courtship. his heart had swelled with pride and affection, and he had taken it from her as if it were the most precious thing in the world. and to him, it was. everything she touched became sacred, imbued with her warmth and care. the future had seemed so sure, so inevitable, like the turning of the seasons or the rise of the sun.

but then quaritch came back, rearing his ugly head into their lives once more, like a demon from some nightmare. everything shifted in that instant. the careful plans they had laid, the promises they had made—all of it was torn apart in the blink of an eye. nothing was certain anymore. nothing was safe.

the metkayina were kind, welcoming. they had taught him to swim, to ride the ilu, to adapt to their ways. but no matter how much he learned, no matter how skilled he became in their ways, neteyam still felt like a stranger. and at night, when the village was quiet and the only sound was the soft lapping of the waves against the shore, he let himself feel it. the loneliness, the heartache, the longing for a life that seemed further away than ever before.

he thought of her constantly. every day, every night. he wondered what she was doing, if she was safe, if she still thought of him the way he thought of her. he would lie awake, imagining what it would be like to see her again. to hold her. to hear her laugh. his mind would drift back to the quiet moments they had shared—the way she would lean into him, her head resting on his shoulder, the way her fingers would trace the lines of his palm as they sat together in the stillness of the forest.

she was always there, in the back of his mind, a constant, aching presence. he would catch glimpses of her in the most unexpected moments—a flash of her smile in the curve of a wave, the sound of her laughter in the distant call of a tulkun. at night, when the village was quiet and the stars reflected off the still water, he let himself remember her fully, let himself drown in the memories of her.

he remembered how she used to laugh, how her eyes would crinkle at the corners when she was truly happy. how she would tug at his braids playfully, teasing him in that soft, affectionate way of hers. he could still hear her voice, soft and melodic, as she whispered his name in the quiet moments they shared alone.

but as the days stretched into months, and the months into years, that trust had started to feel fragile. had she moved on? the thought plagued him, gnawed at him like a festering wound. she had promised to wait, but how long could he really expect her to? he didn’t know when—or if—he would ever return. and if she had found someone else, if she had chosen to be with another, he couldn’t blame her. he knew she had every right to. after all, he had left her. not by choice, but he had still left. he couldn’t expect her to put her life on hold, to wait indefinitely for something that might never happen.

the idea of her being with someone else, though—it tore at him. the thought of another man holding her, kissing her, making her smile the way he used to—it was unbearable.

“neteyam?” his father’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. jake stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable in the fading light. neteyam had grown used to the look—his father’s concern, his quiet observations. “you alright, boy?”

neteyam nodded, though the tightness in his chest told a different story. “yeah.”

jake studied him for a moment, then sighed, stepping closer. “i know this move hasn’t been easy for you,” he said, his voice gentle. “for any of us. but you... you’ve been carrying a lot on your shoulders.”

neteyam glanced down at the sand beneath his feet, not trusting himself to speak. his father didn’t know the half of it.

“ke’loreä’s been asking about you,” jake continued, his tone careful. “she’s a nice girl. strong, kind. maybe you should give her a chance.”

she was kind, sweet even, with a laugh that rang like a bell and sea-green eyes that sparkled when she looked at him. she had taken an interest in him from the beginning, always finding excuses to be near him, to talk to him, to laugh at his jokes, even the ones that weren’t particularly funny.

at first, he hadn’t noticed. or maybe he had, but he hadn’t let himself think about it. but as time passed, it became harder to ignore. she would linger by his side during training, brush her hand against his arm when she spoke, offer to help him with tasks that didn’t require any assistance. she was... nice. there was nothing wrong with her. in fact, she was everything a mate should be.

but she wasn’t his.

“i cannot,” neteyam said, his voice tight. he shook his head, his jaw clenched. “i cannot do that to her.”

“to ke’loreä?” jake asked, raising an eyebrow.

“to yn,” neteyam corrected, his chest tightening at the mere mention of her name. “i can’t... i can’t betray her like that.”

jake let out a slow breath, his expression softening. “son, it’s been two years. i know you miss her. i know this isn’t what you wanted. none of us wanted this. but you can’t hold onto the past forever. we all left people behind. but maybe it’s time to start thinking about—”

“i am not holding onto the past,” neteyam said, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. “i am holding onto her. she is not the past. she...” he trailed off, unable to find the right words to explain the depth of what he felt. “i promised her,” he said finally. “and she promised me. i am not going to break that. she is waiting for me.”

“and what if she’s not?” jake asked quietly. the words hung in the air like a heavy weight, pressing down on neteyam’s chest.

he hadn’t let himself think about that. he couldn’t. if he let himself believe, even for a moment, that she had moved on, that she had found someone else, it would destroy him.

“she is,” neteyam said, his voice firm, though his heart trembled with uncertainty. “i know she is.”

jake didn’t say anything for a long moment. finally, he placed a hand on neteyam’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “i just don’t want you to spend your life waiting for something that might not happen.”

neteyam swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding stiffly. his father meant well, but he didn’t understand. how could he? he didn’t know what it was like to love someone so deeply that their absence felt like a physical wound, to miss someone so much that every day without them was like another weight added to his chest.

jake didn’t push the issue any further. he placed a hand on neteyam’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before turning and walking back toward the village, leaving neteyam alone with his thoughts once again.

he closed his eyes, letting the sound of the waves wash over him. he could almost hear her voice, soft and sweet, carried on the breeze. he could almost feel her hand in his, the warmth of her skin against his. he could almost see her smile, the one that always made his heart race.

but when he opened his eyes, she was gone. just like she had been.

sobbing. should i do a part two?

[fluorynn]

💙 — 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 !

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Valentine’s spent with Neteyam, Kiri, and Lo’ak !

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 : @aristocolourway @deadgirlrin @missisaz @faintfill @honeycinnamon @by-bananant @lauren1523 @xobridgertonblues @hungrynessforfics @dananannanana @innercreationflower @angie-1306 @cozybubble

𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐲 : @cafekitsune !!!

a/n : It is love day, everyone !!! To those Avatar lovers still out there who adore these characters — these are for you ! Please enjoy, and happy Valentines Day!<33

Valentines Day with Ao’nung, Tsireya, and Rotxo !

— Neteyam !

Anchored. Unrelenting. Sizzling. Neteyam’s mind was anchored, his heartbeat unrelenting, and his body sizzling over your dampened frame. The propinquity he shared with you allayed him, the water’s ambience soothed him. Shallow were Awa’Atlu’s pristine oceans for each gentle wave covered you both lying within it, complying to the silhouette of his body lithe and tendered into yours.

A rarity of a sight it was to witness him, Neteyam the strong and mighty warrior, in a state of relaxation, for he habitually carried a solemn countenance, resolute in his duties. As not only the eldest son but older brother, the golden child, he adhered dutifully to his responsibilities. And you, trainee under your mother, Tsahik, in hopes to become your Clan’s future Tsahik were in freedom from its worries for the time being, in freedom of being the eldest child and daughter, something that had drawn one another together. The profound joy derived from sharing tranquility with someone who served as the paramount source of it marked an unparalleled and cherished experience, and you liberated him all those titles as he liberated you, giving each other the simplest and most valuable one yet: your Neteyam, his Y/N.

Tucked beneath the outline of your jaw was his head, the wet entwines of his hair grazing your turquoise flesh with every movement of his burrowing deeper into your neck. The shore’s aroma was strong from the current breeze laced with the currents, the aromas you’ve inhaled, embraced and adored your entire life; but Neteyam’s potent fragrance was the single one that inebriated you in this moment. Pandora’s multicolored fluorescence illuminated the ocean’s vibrant blues, clashing breathtakingly with both your distinct tones under the night sky. This felt right, this felt nice and tranquil. Something you knew he needed far more than you ever did.

You felt the brims of his lashes fluttering, hearing him breathe in the pure essence that is solely yours, and this dragged a shuddering sigh from your lungs. You raised the three of your fingers and let them trace down his spine, tips soon straying from its path to outline his endearing stripes, to memorize the star-like specks shimmering upon his rich blue contours. The lingers of your ascend elicited a shiver from the young warrior, an elicit you hoped for.

“That feels nice…may you do it again?” You couldn’t help the giggle bubbling up your throat at his request, so sweet, so polite in asking even when eager for your touch, so Neteyam. Not a second of the day goes by without the lightest of contacts with you, always savoring each and every touch you gave his being and you could never ever deny him the privilege, so of course you more than willingly agreed. There it was, that sound of acceptance, that feel of content that you chased when with him, it is what you savor; to gratify him, to fortify him.

“I have made a gift for you, ma ‘Teyam,” Your soft utterance brought his head to lift from its haven within your warmth while his lips twitched. “You did not need to do that, my love. I can conform with the gift of your presence. That is all I need and want.” His fingers rose to softly thread through your dark tresses, chuckling at the pretty purse your lips now formed despite the flush pigmenting your cheeks.

“Rutxe, Neteyam ( please ). I did it for you out of my love. Please allow me to show you, and please accept it because it took some time to make it.” He knew denying you was a task he had never done, and Neteyam knew he could never even comply with it when it came to you. Those alluring swirls of blue orbs you carried relished him to let out a deep sigh but reluctantly agreed, for he did not want your efforts to go to waste, much less when it was made from the affections you held for him.

You lightly tapped his shoulder and he pushed himself away from you, much to his dismay, though he was genuinely intrigued as to what you have made for him. Your fingers reached behind your neck, unclasping a necklace above one he had given you with, though he hadn’t been aware of though the way it was woven had been familiar, and his golden hues brimmed confusion at how there was another similar with its design like the one now in your palm, displayed for him to catch the way the one you held carried a vibrantly blue stone in the middle, assisted with 2 tiny stones accompanying each side.

“It is a necklace.”

You nodded happily, bringing his wrist out of the water and had him splay his fingers out to place the jewelry there. Your translucent gaze caught his own and smiled at how curiosity colored his beautiful features. “Would you like me to put it on, pretty boy?” His eyes resisted from rolling at the nickname given, but he would admit it had grown quite noticeable on him; his ears batted bashfully from the sound, his tail swaying in anticipation, creating cute splashes against the ocean that made you giggle beneath his playful glare. “Yes, please.”

He settled himself in front of you as you kneeled, carefully moving the longer length of his single braid before it was assisted by the myriad of his much thinner ones. You smiled to yourself at the way he exhaled deeply from your feathering touches, and you knew that he was waiting patiently for you to elaborate the reason for your gift. “I know how much you miss your home, so with the help of your sister and mother, I made this out of the material you used back in the Forest.”

He turned back with a softness in his eyes, and he caught onto the similar lace accentuating your neck had, the one he’d given you; the middle being an oval-shaped, light blue stone while assisted by soft colored stones. He stayed quiet, knowing there was more you wished to say, but his heart couldn't help but feel concerned at the way your ears so very slightly flattened alongside your head. “I know my father said you are Metkayina now…but I am sure that if Eywa gave you the chance, that when conflict is over, you’d like to go back with your People–”

“If that ever were to happen, I would not leave you, if that is what you are thinking. I will come back to you, Y/N.” He was in haste to reassure those doubts, those fears, not wanting to think or continue a life without you by his side, without you as his future mate. Neteyam did not know anymore what path has been set for his family or himself, but he much rather it be one with you in it and him in yours. To which is why he paused for a moment before he reached to take his necklace off. His fingers then slithered between the long cascades of your locks and to the nape of your neck without tearing his eyes from yours, and unclasped your own necklace.

“Neteyam, what–” Unaware you were to the exchange he’d done, the necklace made for him now adorning your neck while yours adorned his. Your eyes shyly peered up, chest blossoming a rareness of warmth as he gave you a precious smile and interlocked his fingers within yours. “We now wear each other’s, so we carry a part of the other everywhere. No matter how far away we are from each other, no matter the time, no matter the People, I am and will forever be yours, Y/N.”

Gleaming and utterly gorgeous was your smile, and he took in the purity of your beauty, of your love. “And I, too, am and will always be yours, Neteyam.” He kissed you, sweetly and delicately yet enough to have your mind and heart soaring higher than you ever thought possible. “Wherever, whenever.”

He gave you one more of his precious smiles before settling back down into your neck, soft kisses brushing and accompanied by the water’s light current across your skin.

— Kiri !

There was noise, some semblance of it at least, you thought. Yet Pandora’s outside world was reduced with every word spewing from Kiri’s lips. You decided then and there that no other melody could vanquish the one she created, not even your songcord – of course, you’d never say that aloud to anyone besides her.

Kiri, the Na’vi girl with humanistic features that everyone in Awa’atlu thought to be odd, even you. Yet not the bad kind, never the bad when it came to the Sully girl. Beyond compare and contrast was her beauty, alluring was her smile. It was easy to get lost in it, so effortlessly to overawe its brilliance.

Kiri’s feet very lightly whirled within the translucency of the waters, the glittering light of Pandora’s tiny fishes circling her motions. You scrutinized her every expression though, smiling at the way her eyes brimmed with thrill down at the little creatures while your focus remained solely on your Kiri.

Something then fell from her lips – a subtle tug down following afterwards when she turned to look at you. Her once lax-hold on your hand was quick to direct and persistent, and this time your gaze fell to your twined fingers and smiled even more at the sight. But to reassure her, your thumb grazed over the back of her palm lovingly and gave a small nod. Kiri protested your dissociation for she was not indulgent with it in this second, not amused of your dazing irises. If only she could know one did not – couldn’t or shouldn’t ever be allowed to dissociate when near her presence. If anything, the only possibility for you was to associate with her. Kiri, despite the silent and rather be reserved with her thoughts and emotions, was so worth listening to, so worth being able to associate with the way her eyes twinkled brighter than the fluorescence Pandora had to offer, dimming every light encasing you as you sat at the edge with your feet dangled in the water, life wavering you as the night’s stars shimmered.

“I don’t think my family believes that I can feel her, Y/N.” She rolled her eyes with a soft scoff, the act that anyone else would believe as disrespectful and angry but you knew her; you knew this facade, how much this tethered her heart with hurt and sadness. And you also knew �� witnessed the strong connection Kiri had with Eywa, and even if you hadn’t you believed in her word with no doubts, no hesitations. Of course, she was reluctant in how you quickly believed her but you reassured the Omaticayan girl. You gave her the closest thing there was to feeling like she did belong, like she did have something – someone to emotionally open up to and depend on. She then smiled softly, “But as long as someone believes me, that someone being you, I think I can settle with tha–”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The sudden blurt of your declaration halted her words. The rareness of a blush pigmenting beneath those glittering star specks across her cheeks. You didn’t see it because her face dipped down as quickly as it came, yet you didn’t need to. You knew Kiri, purely and confidently. “I made you something, by the way.”

Her head lifted at your words and her nose scrunched. “Why, out of all days, today?”

“Your brother had told me something about … a festivity Sky People have. One your father said they had back on their planet.” You paused, eyes averting. “He asked me for help in making something for Tsireya and while I did…I was convinced to make you something.”

Her eyes squinted as if trying to recall this holiday before realization settled in and a groan erupted from her throat. “That festivity is so … so cheesy, I swear. Why would you make me something?”

You shrugged, a bit confused as to why she thought this, “The way he spoke about it intrigued me… you do not want the gift then?”

Her eyes widened and mouth pursed. “But I didn’t get you a gift.”

“Having you is more than a gift.”

She groaned once more, but it was a mirthful sound. “You need to stop hanging out with Lo’ak. And my dad maybe. But okay, fine…let me see it.”

You grinned widely and brought your legs out of the water to retrieve the gift and returned with it hidden behind your back as you settled down, “Give me your feet.”

“Perv. Why out of all things my feet?”

“Kiri, please just listen! – What is a perv?” You shook your head before bringing one hand to her knee. “Never mind – Come on… it is nothing bad.” Her brow was hitched up high, letting a few beats go by until she sighed and gave in, propping both her dampened feet over your thigh. “Now what?”

You goofily grinned at the glare she gave you when you squeezed her foot. “Close your eyes.”

She narrowed her eyes even more , trying to inspect and unravel what you were up to. “If you tickle my feet, I will personally end you.”

“Everyday in your presence, you end me by taking my breath away.” That brought out a groan and laugh, her eyes crinkling beautifully. “You’re so corny, I swear. But fine, let’s get it over with.”

You chuckled but continued, fingers very lightly curling around her ankle and wrapped the piece you had made for her, occasionally letting the tips of your fingers stray the heel of her foot. “Stop! Y/N, that tickles, stop it or I will open my eyes!” She’d huff at the whispered giggles you would let out, trying to keep the deep furrow between her brows and yet with every joyous sound you made, she could no longer contain the warm smile curling her mouth. You adjusted the piece on the other ankle then, smiling proudly at your work. “Open them.”

Kiri’s lashes fluttered as she complied and very quietly gasped. Her feet had been embroidered with incredibly crafted barefooted sandals, the color scheme assisting browns, yellows, and green tiny fragments of trinkets, and she recognized the patterns to be similar to the necklace around her neck, the one that once belonged to her mother.

Her head snapped to you. “W-what, how did you—”

You smirked, “It helps hanging out with your brother and dad.”

Golden irises broadened in awe as she retracted her feet from your lap, her leg bending as her fingers brushed over the fine jewelry. “How did you even make this?”

“It took time…and a few minor injuries with the beads, but nothing my mother couldn’t fix,” She looked down at your hands, tiny and faint cuts scattering your digits and palms and she frowned. “You skxawng,” she lightly hit the back of your head but reached for your hands, bringing them close to her face and placed a soft kiss over each scratch. “You beautiful, considerate, lovable skxawng.”

“Don’t know if I should feel insulted or flattered,” you chuckled out. She giggled, bringing one of your palms to her cheek and the pads of your fingers stroked her bangs, giving her that heartwarming look that always mollified her insides. “Thank you, Y/N…but I still didn’t get you anything.”

You waved her off, “Do not worry about it… though I do have another surprise.”

“Again, I didn’t get you anything!”

“You didn’t need to! Look –” You outstretched your leg over her lap revealing your ankle being bejeweled with a similar patterned anklet. “I'm matching with you now!” She grinned widely and feathered her touch over it before wrapping her hands around your leg and tugged you closer. “I love it. I love you, in fact.” she didn’t give you time to respond because her complete enamour with you led her to kiss you soft, firm, lovingly.

— Lo’ak !

“My dad had told me of a celebration the Sky People once had on their planet — a celebration that included gift giving.” Gift giving that included the special gift in a pocket tied to Lo’ak’s loincloth, unaware to you.

“Really?” You smiled, a wonder and intrigue morphing your features. “That seems like something we do here when courting your future mate! Is there a name for this celebration?”

“Valentines Day. That is its name…but it’s not only about the gift giving, if not the motive behind it.” The swaying motions your interlocked hands created slowed down as the tips of his fingers pressed deeper into your skin. “Oh? And what is that, ma Lo’ak?”

He smiled briefly at the nickname given, a reflection of what his mother called his dad, and the love they shared swelled his heart of the love he shared with you. “To celebrate any sort of connection with your loved ones. Preferably friendship, admiration…love.”

“Lo’ak, what is this?” The melodic sound of your giggles normally mesmerized him, eased his nerves with the soft joyous sound. Today, under the setting eclipse should be no different, for this is how you spend your evenings together; hands clasped together, swinging through the air while the both of you strided through Awa’atlu’s sands, the winds astoundingly tousling through the rich ringlets of your hair, and you’d both soothe each other’s struggles of the days with sweet words and gentle touches.

But today, his nerves could not be tamed by even you, his sweet girl, as he stopped his steps indicating you to do the same, and stood in front of you with a shell-made case in his tight grasp, his saffron colored eyes looked anywhere but those cerulean ones he adored endlessly. The points of his ears flitted from his resistance of emotions while his tail lashed, and your smile faltered with the final sign that indicated his nervousness; the way he practically chewed off the corner of his lip, incisors puncturing the flesh.

“Lo’ak, what is wrong — are you okay? Is something the matter?” The soft tone and light touch of your hand on his clenching one brought his gaze up, and his brows knitted in awe at the delicacy of your features, of the ocean pools you carried. He swallowed hard, briefly smiling with a nod.

“D-do you know what a ring is?”

A subtle quirk resided between your eyes but nodded. “I do not wear them…but I do know what they are. A type of jewelry worn on the hand, yes?”

He nodded, thumbs tapping over the shell’s thin dents. “What does it mean to you? I-if I gave you one? For this celebration of love that Sky People have?”

Your lips parted and the corners threatened to lift into a smile, but kept quiet as you observed his expression. “I would be more than happy… especially if it came from you—”

“But do you know the purpose of a ring? What would it mean to you?” He felt the pulsing of his heart, practically heard it and wouldn’t be surprised if you too could, with the way its wild and profound beating hammered against his chest with each pump of blood in and out of the organ.

You thought for a moment, trying to connect a response that would somehow calm him. The three of your fingers fiddled over the five of his, smiling at the way his deeper blue tones contrasted with your aquamarine ones, coming together as one. “It will be an act of affection on your part if you did. And I would cherish it very much. Though I do not know the…actual significance of a ring.”

His father had told him of the ways humans bonded to each other for eternity without the intimacy of tsaheylu, of how all the things tied to love were forged into a single promise, a single piece of jewelry such as a ring.

“Why did you never get mom a ring then?” He recalled Tuk questioning, and he would only chuckle while scratching the back of his neck. “Your mom isn’t fond of human things and the Na’vi’s got their own thing for marital acts, baby… besides you need five fingers for this to work.”

But that did not matter to him, not in this case, because when he heard and unraveled the details behind a ring, he found it to be beautiful and significant. You had been one of the greatest things that have ever occurred to him since the Sky People returned. Since he had to flee from the only home he’s ever known. Since the death of his big brother. And in the months that he has known you, in the months living in uncertainty and fear only for it to be washed away by those ocean eyes of yours, he found a firm certainty in something after a long time; about the love he felt for you, about you deserving something that beautiful, that significant. “Why do you ask?”

Because within this shell, the shell you and I happened to catch from the bottom of the ocean and you praised me for it, is a ring that isn’t exactly for marriage but as a promise to you of my undying love and promising future I will make sure to have with you. Because I am certain that I do not ever want to lose you, because you have seen me at my worst when he died. I cannot risk going on without you.

Another bob motioned up his throat before his shaking fingers opened the case in his palm, catching onto the soft gasp emitted from your lips.

“Dad told me the meaning, and I learned that it signifies an eternity of love; no beginning, no end. That the hole in the middle, it’s a gateway that leads to things and events known and unknown.” His accent was increasing its thickness as he spoke, internally cursing and hoped that you could still understand him. “The marital ring means forever, and I know that I want forever with you,”

It took you a moment to recognize the chiseled figure over the twig-like band — a single pearl in the middle, twinkling and impressively tiny trinkets embedded around the band. You knew it must’ve taken the Omaticayan boy quite some time to create this. Though you then caught a glimpse of a new necklace around his neck, one that assisted a pearl similar to the one upon the ring .

“But in the meantime, I want to give you what they call a promise ring, a-and when the time comes, I can….if you’ll take me, be your mate. Forever.”

Tears glistened the vibrancy of your irises, threatening to fall down your cheeks, clogging the words within your throat. All you could do was create a wobbly smile as he took ahold of your hand and slipped the ring around your middle finger, sliding perfectly into place.

“And as soon as everything gets cleared out, as soon as we hit that age, I won’t hesitate in making this the real thing, h-how does that sound to you?”

The sudden wrap of your arms around his shoulders and the soft pecks meeting his face spoke the answer, and he chuckled against your lips. “Happy Valentine's Day, baby.”

[live-laugh-neteyam]

i saw that you're opening requests omfg i love your writing so im taking the opportunity!

neteyam tired and exhausted from his training and goes to seek reader to decompress, finds her then just straight up drops his body to her, nuzzling his nose to her neck and probably mutters smth like, "you're my comfort person" or smth, gets all cuddly and everything. reader is the only person who got to see neteyam like this

they're mutually pining best friends btw

bonus if neteyam didnt notice one of his siblings sitting in front of the reader 😭

im so sorry if this got too long 😭😭 tysm babe

My Comfort Person ||| neteyam x omatikaya!reader

awwww thank you so much! 🥹🫶🏻

masterlist

pairings: neteyam x omatikaya!fem!reader

summary: your best friend neteyam is a bit of a sleep cuddlier

words: 600

warnings/notes: none! pure tooth rotting fluff

After another long ass day filled with nothing but training Neteyam was exhausted. In fact, exhausted was an understatement.

The only thing he wanted to do was to snuggle up and go to sleep. What he really wanted was to snuggle up with you.

His best friend was the only person who could immediately put him at ease. Nothing could top the tranquil feeling of holding you in his arms.

Neteyam trudged through home tree, his mind on autopilot. He was so groggy and exhausted he didn’t even know where he was going.

Your hands carefully worked at the bracelet you were holding. Gently weaving the material so as not to damage it. Stopping midway through you noticed that the beads you were using were very similar to the beads Neteyam was found of.

A blush creeped onto your cheeks as you thought of him. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have feelings for him. But he was your best friend and nothing more.

"Why is your face like that?" Kiri asked unamused.

Eyes widening at being caught you tried to brush her off. "Like what?"

"Just admit that you were day dreaming about my brother so we can get back to our jewelry." She rolled her eyes.

You started to panic as you felt your entire face heat up. It wasn't that obvious, was it?

"I don't know what you're talking about." You nervously chuckled.

"Oh please," Kiri huffed. "The two of you have been pining after each other for years."

"You’re being dramatic. Neteyam doesn't see me that way." You frowned.

Kiri started laughing but quickly stopped when she saw your somber expression. "Wait, are you serious?” She asked.

"Yes Kiri! We're friends. Only friends. Neteyam would never return my feelings." You sighed.

"You must be blind." Kiri laughed. "He has been obsessed with you for years. To the point that it's alarming how much he talks about you."

"Seriously?"

"It's obvious to everyone but the two of you apparently."

Before you could argue with her the flap of your tent opened to reveal Neteyam himself. Kiri smirked giving you a knowing look.

Neteyam groggily made his way over to you. He looked liked he was half asleep, not even noticing Kiri as he passed her.

Neteyam plopped down next to you nuzzling his face into your neck. Inhaling your sweet scent immediately relaxed his tense body.

"What's wrong 'Teyam?" You softly asked while reaching your hand up to caresses his head.

"Tired." He mumbled against your skin. "Needed my comfort person."

Snuggling more into you his head found it's way onto your lap. He was hugging your arm to his chest.

You melted at the sight of him. He looked like a big comfy toddler. Seeing him like this wasn’t unusual. Despite the mighty warrior mask he wore, Neteyam loved physical touch. Whenever the two of you were alone he practically demanded that you cuddled.

But that was always when you were alone. He had never acted this way around anyone else. You were shocked that he was so relaxed with Kiri sitting right there. Usually you were the only one to see this side of him.

“Told you.” Kiri whispered.

Shushing her you waved her out. Neteyam had fallen asleep and the last thing you wanted was to wake him up.

Lovingly you admired his relaxed face as he slept. Gently you brushed his hair out of his face. A soft smile graced his lips as he begun to purr.

“Sleep well my mighty warrior.” You whispered.

Taglist:

@ilovejakesullysdick @fanboyluvr @athenalikethegoddess @loverofallthingsfandom @forasgaard @plzfeedmebread @instabull @ms5m1th @avatarappreciationblog @romimiux @ferrtan @tammitammytime @eternallyvenus @dreamyescapesfromreality @dvxsja @jakesullyfatjuicypeen

[neteyamslovrr]

CONGRATS ON 2K‼️ Ur da best and you deserve this and so much more!

Can I request prompt 48 (angst) with our husband Neteyam? Thanksssss and congratulations againnnn❤️❤️

STOOD UP

another one!! i am rolling these guys out. i had sm fun with this one. i love my angst AND the hubby neteyam

You were angry, you were livid. Fuming, steam blowing out of your ears as you huffed, pacing around the spot in the forest where Neteyam promised he would meet you.

He told you that he would be there just as the eclipse occurs, so you could watch it set, then go on an ikran flying date. It was what he said he would do. But what were you expecting, he had been flaking on you for weeks now.

Your paces were heavy, crushing the fallen leaves under your feet as you balled your hands into fists. Imagining hitting Neteyam over the head with them, for standing up to you once again.

Neteyam was flying his ikran as fast as the poor creature could soar. The moment he realised his training had lasted many moments too long he was on his feet, ready to take off. He had done this too many times, he tried so desperately to not get stuck into his training, but his father didn’t let up. Leaving you to sit by yourself, stewing in your rage as you waited for your boyfriend once again.

Landing below he saw your figure staring daggers into him. He in for it this time.

“Please let me explain, baby please.” He was already begging as you shook his desperate grip off you. He could feel the heat of your anger in your skin.

“I am so fucking upset with you right now, I don’t think you understand.” Your voice was harsh and cruel. Ready to scream out a verbal assault for all the fauna to hear.

“No, No I understand, I should have been here.” He was still clinging onto you praying that you were going to hurt his feelings too harshly.

“Do you Neteyam?” Your name was like venom off your tongue, usually you shortened his name affectionately. But no affection was in you today, you were mad.

“Please beautiful-” He was cut off but your annoyed sigh, trying to suppress a hiss that scratched at your throat.

“You understand that you promised me right? You can’t take back what you said. You promised that you wouldn’t stand me up again. And look where we are now.” Neteyam felt the guilt crush his heart, seeing the way you sucked your teeth to stop your sobs. The way your eyes shimmered because of the tears brimming them. He never wanted to make you feel like this.

“I don’t take it back baby. I’ll never do this again. I was caught up in training- a-and Father kept me back please, y’know I want to spend time with you.” He held tightly onto your hands, terrified you would walk away and never return to him.

“You can’t keep lying to me. I- I can’t handle the disappointment anymore.” Disappointment? It shattered him. He’d worked his entire life to never disappoint anyone, only to disappoint the one he cherishes most.

“No, no, no! I’m not lying…I’ll stop training, I’ll miss out on the hunts. Please.” You looked up to him, seeing the way tears flowed down his beautiful face. Placing a hand to his cheek wiping the tears you let out a shaky sigh. “We both know you can’t do that.”

if you liked this check out my masterlist <3

[loaksky]

— 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 [𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦]

the lowdown — the one where neteyam is too blinded by duty to realize what he has right in front of him. 

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count  — 5.6k (this isn't even a drabble anymore).

the tags & warnings — language, more emotional constipation, mentions of blood & injury, childhood friends(?)2l, unrequited love, angst w a semi-happy / openish ending.

the notes  — based off of this request & this one ! let’s pretend the trees of souls didn’t get burned down in the first movie :) 

masterlist

You were an odd thing, curious, maybe a little strange, but like learning anything, everyone had grown accustomed to your weird little habits. Everyone except for Neteyam, the clan leader’s son. And the weird habit in question was poorly-expressed words of adoration that seemed to meld into unconventional confessions as you got older. 

It started when you two were eight, perhaps nine. The two of you were in a village elder’s tent, learning the best ways to debone fish to prepare for meals when she’d ducked out for a moment and left the two of you in a cloud of uncomfortable silence. 

Neteyam’s fingers were nimble, swift, while you lagged behind, eyes fluttering to the way he seemed to grasp the elder’s instruction with more ease than you. 

“We should always be together,” you’d said absently, still fiddling with the same fish while Neteyam moved onto the next. “I will be useless to our family without you.” 

Neteyam’s spine had gone rigid, gaze wide as he side-eyed you from his seat. 

“Huh?” He’d clearly been caught off guard, ministrations on the catch frozen as his eyebrows furrowed. 

“When we are married,” you’d said, holding the bone structure of your first fish triumphantly.

“Married?” he parroted shrilly, fully turning to face you. 

You looked up from your task, nodding like it was the most common of knowledge.

“Yes, Neteyam,” you affirmed, chuffing a small laugh. “In the future, when we are married.” 

Neteyam wouldn’t have been so off put had the comment been a one time thing, but they were frequent, spoken both in the quiet of much-dreaded time alone with you and hushed whispers in the midst of the other villagers your age. 

It wasn’t any help that his parents seemed to always set the two of you up in many endeavors over the course of your adolescence. And he’d tried, tried so hard to shake you over the years, but you were glued to his hip. 

You look handsome today, you’d say often, regardless. Training is paying off, whispered in his ear as your fingertips smoothe over the skin of his biceps. I hope the little ones grow to be as mighty as you are, spoken after sessions in the archery circle. The comments are all fleeting, mentioned in passing like a casual word, but they make Neteyam warm, make his cheeks heat when he searches your face for any betrayal of emotion. 

But all he’s met with is an expression that borders smug, one that makes him wonder why, out of all of the boys growing into fine young men over the course of your adolescence, had you picked him to be the object of your affections. 

Try as he might, to be short-tempered, callous, you were always there. He sought the attention of other women, tried to put as many bodies between the two of you, but you were relentless, smiled gently when you’d catch his wandering hands against the skin of another, would turn a blind eye when his lips brushed too intimately over eager ears.

At first he figured that maybe it was because he was the first boy you’d encountered and it’d just been the way the cards were dealt. At times he thought you were messing with him, a long-running joke between you and some unknown entities to fuck around with his feelings. His current theory, however, is one that he sits more confidently on when he begins observing you. 

You spend an awful amount of time not only tailing him, but tailing his family, pestering Kiri and Lo’ak about god knows what, spending many afternoons schmoozing with his parents, seeking guidance from Mo’at. 

He comes to the conclusion, after some time, that you’re trying to solidify your place within his family, trying to secure your role next to him as the future leader of the clan. This much is confirmed when his parents bring up the sore topic of you one night once everyone has turned in after the evening meal. 

“The time for your selection feast is arriving,” Neytiri says hesitantly, like she’s treading on thin ice. 

Neteyam has an inkling where this conversation will go when Jake shifts to sit next to his partner, the perfect picture of what a love that transcends all should look like. But he doesn’t know love, just knows preparing for his future and what ruling the clan will look like. 

“Yeah,” Neteyam agrees. 

“Do you have someone in mind?” Jake prods, busying himself by toying with his songchord. 

To his dismay, you briefly eclipse his mind, the annoyingly beautiful girl he’d grown up with but, even a decade later, still can’t seem to get a good read on.

“No,” he answers slowly. 

His parents seem to chew on this for a moment, glancing at each other momentarily before Neytiri draws in a deep breath and focuses her attention on her oldest son all over again. 

“Well…your father and I believe that perhaps ________ could be a good choice.”

It’s like a bomb detonates, but the aftershocks are only seen in the way Neteyam’s lips purse and his brows furrow. 

He’s not one to go against his parents, but he’ll be damned if he has to spend forever with you. 

“No,” he repeats, but with time with vindication. 

Jake looks stunned, back straightening as he takes his son in with wary eyes.

“No?” 

“No,” Neteyam reiterates. “I would rather spend my life alone than spend it with her.” 

“Neteyam,” Neytiri sighs. 

“I’m sorry, Mom, I won’t,” he says firmly, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he glances between both of his parents, hoping, wishing that maybe they’ll see that this isn’t a good idea.

“Maitan, you don’t understand,” Neytiri says softly. “When you and ________ were born, Ewya gave us a sign.”

Neteyam’s blood runs cold. 

“So this has already been decided?” he asks, voice eerily steady. 

“Not necessarily,” Jake interjects. “We didn’t want you two to feel like you were being forced to be together so we hoped that encouraging you both to spend time together would allow something to develop…” 

“But they haven’t, so now it’s a not-so-silent push,” he says shortly. 

His parents share another look and he feels annoyance beginning to form in his gut. 

“We wouldn’t say that there aren’t any feelings there,” Neytiri says. 

Neteyam breathes a humorless laugh as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“I don’t feel anything for her,” he says with finality. “Nothing about a union with her piques my interest. We’ve been in close proximity since birth but my heart feels more for the trees in the forest than it ever will for ________.” 

Jake squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Have you thought about giving her a chance?” he pushes. “She’s a lovely girl, really likes you.” 

That draws another huff of humorless laughter from Neteyam. 

“The only thing she’s interested in is status and being tsahik,” Neteyam scoffs. “There is nothing there.” 

Neytiri opens her mouth to say something, but Neteyam has mustered up as polite an excuse as he can as he stands to his feet and bows his head to his parents. 

When he ducks from the tent, he doesn’t expect to see you lingering outside of the exit.

His face morphs as the quiet words leave your lips. 

“You doubt my affections for you.” It’s a statement and a question wrapped in one, but you’re resigned, like always, and Neteyam can’t seem to grasp what you’re trying to get at clinging to him, to whatever this dynamic is. 

“What’s this game you’re playing?” he accuses, eyes narrowed. 

“What game?” you ask, gaze unfaltering as you stare up at him with those round golden eyes. 

He lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“Our entire lives, from being kids to now, you’ve toyed with me,” he says fiercely. “With this idea of us. Why? I’ve given you no reasons to be fond of me, yet you’re always here, there, everywhere.” 

“I have much to be fond of,” is your simple answer and Neteyam could groan in frustration. 

“Like what? Being the olo’eyktan’s son? Holding the future of this clan in my hands?” he asks sharply. 

“I would love you, circumstances withstanding,” you respond. “You don’t have to be afraid.” 

Love. 

What an odd concept, weird. One that Neteyam can’t seem to wrap his mind around when it comes to you. Doesn’t think he ever will. 

“Afraid of what?” he bites. 

“Of loving me back,” you say. 

He grimaces like the very thought disgusts him, like you’re an aversion he desperately wants to rid of. And perhaps you are, you realize, seeing years of pent up frustration and anger culminating into one big wound ready to rupture. 

“You think I love you?” he asks incredulously. 

He doesn’t miss the way you shrink, blinking quickly. 

“If you gave us a chance, maybe,” you whisper.

It sounds like the conversation with his parents all over again and realization seems to shutter across his features as he looks down at you. 

“How long have you known?” 

“Known what?” you ask quietly. 

“How long have you known that they’re trying to force us to be together?” he asks. 

You’re silent for a moment before muttering something under your breath. 

“What?” he snaps.

“They aren’t forcing us,” you clear your throat. “Not me, at least.” 

He scoffs. 

“Of course,” he mocks. “Because it only matters what you want out of this. Not that for the last decade I’ve been trying to get you to back off, trying to get you to understand that I don’t want this. I don’t want us, and if it means forfeiting my responsibilities, then so be it.” 

It’s a lofty statement, one that seals the last nail on your coffin. 

You’d loved Neteyam for as long as you can remember, have probably liked him for longer. When your parents told you early on that Eywa had given both of your families a sign that you and Neteyam were meant for one another, you’d embraced the idea wholeheartedly. Loved the idea of loving him even through moments when he’d try to drive a wedge between the two of you. 

Give him time, your parents had said to you. Jake and Neytiri want his feelings to develop naturally. 

And you waited. God, you waited, for so long. Waited for him to come around, to realize the things he did to you. Perhaps you had been too presumptuous, thinking that he’d be able to read you behind such a stoic facade, afraid that if you revealed too much of your wanting, you’d turn him off from the idea of being with you. 

But as you stand here before him, small under such a burning gaze, you realize that it’d been wishful thinking. Choosing him meant nothing if he didn’t choose you back. 

“I see…” you trail off quietly.

“Do you?” he asks, tone facetious. 

You nod once, unable to meet his gaze. Unable to see that his expression twitches the tiniest amount when he clocks the way your body seems to deflate.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I do.” 

His following days are quiet, filled with personal duties and commitments to the clan. He’d expected you to sleep off the night’s confrontation, he certainly had, a twinge of guilt searing his gut.

But you’re good at hiding, good at masking your feelings, good at disappearing. It doesn’t bother him at the beginning, figuring that you need your space, but then it’s a dull ache that ebbs into a grating gnaw as his every other thought flits to you and what you could be doing now that you��ve settled such a wide distance between himself and his family. 

“You are injured a lot more these days,” Mo’at observes, slathering the viscous mixture over a cut between his shoulder blades. 

He remains silent, doesn’t know how to admit that he’d been far more reckless these past few days in the hopes that he’d run into you in his grandmother’s quarters. A silent yearn to feel your skilled fingers work over his wounds, tender as you try to pry your way into his heart. 

Mo’at had been the one you spent the most time with, diligently training in the chance that Neteyam would finally see you, would make you his. But right now, you’re nowhere to be found and all he’s rewarded with is his grandmother’s rough hands and inquisitive gaze.

“She made this salve,” Mo’at says, filling the silence with idle talk. “Found a recipe that speeds healing and softens the skin.” 

“Did she?” Neteyam responds absently, imagining you picking and pruning the herbs yourself, frame languid as you move through the brush. 

“Said she didn’t want her lover to have such tough skin.” 

There’s laughter in his grandmother’s voice, but he can’t find it in himself to see the humor in the situation. Not when he’s beginning to see that maybe he’s not just another rung in the ladder for you, that duty is the most miniscule drop in your bucket.  

“Where’s ________?” he asks after a moment, hissing through his teeth when his grandmother’s fingers prod the wound. 

“Taking a break from her studies to assist Ama with the children,” she answers, and he misses the knowing look in her eyes. She pats his shoulder when she’s done patching him up. “She’s a fine young woman, Neteyam. Many of the villagers do not turn a blind eye to that fact. If she is not the one that your heart desires, give her the opportunity to align with one that does.” 

It makes something ugly, green, roil in the pit of his stomach at the idea of you being the subject of houndish eyes. You’re too reserved, too sweet, too devoted to be anyone else’s. 

And the thought floors him, makes the knot growing obnoxiously in his throat choke the air from his lungs. 

“Yeah,” he agrees in a whisper. 

And he knows that his grandmother is right. Knows that he shouldn’t be asking about you, doesn’t have the right to hold you hostage if the union is something that truly unsettles him. But the thought of letting go of whatever the two of you have is surprisingly indigestible. 

Neteyam is frustrated, thoroughly disoriented now that all he can think of is you. He’d tried everything under the sun to shake you, to get you to throw your cards in first, but now that you have, it’s like you tug on a string tethered to his hellish heart. 

He stands to his feet and turns to face Mo’at, giving a respectful nod before exiting the tent. 

It’s wrong, he knows it, seeking you out after burning every bridge between the two of you, but he can’t help it. Can’t help but enter the clearing in the forest carved through with a stream that the little ones play in. 

You’re exactly where his grandmother had said you were, sitting near the edge of the bubbling waters with Ama, a girl a few years your senior. The children are giggling, laughing as they splash each other, splash you. The expression on your face falters a little, stern as you adjust the netting strapped to your chest. 

The air is trapped in his lungs as he realizes. Sees the little head that peeks from the top of the fabric, ear pressed to your heart as you cover the baby’s head from the children’s gleeful laughter. 

“That’s not very nice,” you say gently. “Your little sister is trying to sleep.” 

Your voice makes the hairs on the back of his neck prick, a soft rasp that’s haunted him for the last few sleepless nights. It’s odd, seeing you in this light, relaxed from your lack of duties. You’re in your element like this, smiling and coddling the children of the clan as they climb over you and poke and prod. 

“Teyam!” One of them clocks him before he can retreat and his spine is going stiff, stomach turning when he sees the way your expression melts. 

“Hi,” he greets simply, unable to form anything more solid in the fears that he’ll spook you. 

The kids start emerging from the stream one by one, surrounding him as he takes a few tentative steps into the clearing. 

“Neteyam,” Ama greets cordially, eyes flitting between the two of you as you busy yourself with the little one strapped to your chest. 

Neteyam, on the other hand, can’t keep his eyes off of you. He’s silently pleading with Eywa, with whatever other force lies out of reach that you’ll just look at him. But you’re locked up tighter than a vault, obviously still reeling from the confrontation all those days ago. 

He hums your name, gentle like a prayer. Your eyes are hesitant, watching the snoozing baby in your arms before glancing at the remaining children in the stream before finally meeting his longing gaze. 

“Can we talk?” he asks you, flashing one of the curious kids a brief smile when they tug on the hem of his loincloth. 

Your response is far more blunt than he’d expected, taken aback when you murmur a firm, “No.”

He supposes that he deserves that, has earned the warmth that eclipses over his cheeks as the children watch the exchange with inquisitive eyes. And the way you stand to your feet to wrangle the village’s little ones is merited, telling them that playtime is over. 

But as Ama helps you gather their things, sensing the obvious tension between you and the olo’eyktan’s son, he realizes that he can’t just let this go. He won’t. Not without making things right, without telling you that loving you isn’t the hard part, it could never be. 

But agency is something his parents have withheld from him his entire life, molded him into being the perfect son that bends to the clan’s every beck and call. Loving you was just another thing to add to the list of things he did for everyone else’s sake but his own.

He sees now, though, sees that loving you, being in love with you isn’t a difficult feat. Not when he’s been given the smallest glance into what having a future could be like with you. Especially not when he’s learned so many things about you in the moments where you’re a fleeting plume of smoke that surrounds and chokes him all the same. 

He calls your name again, firm this time around. There’s a stutter in your step, he sees the way your shoulders draw taut with a labored sigh. 

You murmur something to Ama, undoing the ties to the netting that carries the dozing infant. Neteyam watches as you shush the kids, reminding them to be good to their tsmuke on their journey through the forest. 

Your fingers are gentle as you tie the last knot, brushing Ama’s shoulders lightly as you tell her you’ll catch up with her shortly. 

When they’re out of earshot, clambering back into the village circle, you turn on your heel, standing on the opposite side of the embankment. The glittering waters gurgle between the two of you as you wait patiently for Neteyam to muster his courage. 

“About our union,” he starts. “I–” 

“I’ve told my parents to forgo the preparations,” you say softly, seemingly unbothered as you pay more attention to the blades of grass that tickle your ankles. 

Neteyam’s spine stiffens.

“Why would you…” 

“You don’t want this,” you repeat his words from the fall out. “You don’t want us. We’ll both be unhappy.” 

It makes his heart squeeze. 

“You would be so unhappy in our union?” he scoffs, like he’s cracked the code. 

He doesn’t expect the humorless laugh that spills past your lips, obviously laden with tears when he focuses hard enough. 

“Of course I would, Neteyam,” you say fiercely, quietly. “I have spent so much of my life being so disgustingly in love with you when all you’ve wanted was me gone. Do you really think I’d let myself suffer at the expense of someone who would rather be alone than be forced to spend time with the likes of me.” 

You make it sound horrible. And perhaps it was, being so taken by someone who’s life mission was to sever every carefully stitched tie.

He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s coming to terms with the fact that maybe he’s been gravely mistaken this entire time. 

“So have your freedom,” you say chillingly. “I surrender.” 

He’s closing the distance between the two of you, splashing through the shallow river to root you to place, fingers wrapped tightly around your elbow. 

You snatch away from his grasp, turning so sharply, he stumbles back. The pad of your finger pokes harshly into his chest, tear-filled eyes brimming as your gaze searches his face. 

“Don’t be heartless,” you hiss. “If there is one thing I will ask of you it is to leave me alone.” 

The distance between the two of you widens as you pluck your bow and quiver nearby and rush off into the brush, leaving Neteyam in the quieting clearing to allow the weight of your words sink to his bones. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, watching the same spot you’d disappeared past, but the forest is beginning to glow and he should be home soon. 

The entire encounter puts him on edge as he climbs through the foliage, moving over fallen logs and blooming flora. His muscles are taut, shoulders tight as he maps the long route back home.

It’s only when a sudden crack in the distance sounds that he becomes aware of how still the forest seems around him, like there are eyes and ears watching his every move. 

A look in the sky reveals a darkening swathe of midnight, leaves gleaming from outstretched branches. As he surveys his surroundings, his ears prick, picking up the most minute of sounds, rhythmic against the dense grass. 

His hand is on his dagger in an instant, eyes wild as he holds his breath. The pulse is nearing, almost insignificant against the backdrop of nature’s call, but something isn’t right and it makes nausea stir in his stomach. 

He blinks once, twice, before something closes over his mouth and a body seems to fuse against his back. 

“It’s me.” Your voice is ragged, hushed against the shell of his ear, and he nearly melts, fingers loosening from around the hilt of his knife. 

“I–” 

“Don’t speak,” you warn. “They are near.” 

He tenses again as you move your bodies behind a curtain of green, off the trodden path. 

“There are five of them,” you whisper and he shivers something fierce. “Two down, three on foot.” 

After years of training from his father, he knows who they are. 

“How did you…why do you–” 

“You didn’t return to the village,” you hiss. 

His heart skips a beat, thrumming because even if you’d been angry at him, you’d noticed his absence. Had gone looking for him, even. He turns to face you, wants to tell you that he’d do anything to make things right, but he realizes that now’s not a good time. 

You’re pale, gravely so, a feral look in your eyes as you grasp at your left side. 

Blood. You’re bleeding. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Stop,” you breathe shakily. “Not now.” 

“________, you’re wounded!” he protests. 

You slap a hand over his mouth, golden eyes widening as you press closer to him. 

He takes the opportunity to peer over your shoulder in pursuit of an exit wound and sighs when he finds the skin still intact. 

“You’re hurt,” he tries again, grabbing the wrist clutching your side. 

You shake your head vehemently. 

“Stop it, Neteyam,” you plead hoarsely. “We need to get rid of them before they find the village.” 

You’re right, he realizes, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he notes the tremble of your lip and the furrow between your brows. 

“Okay,” he swallows, nodding hesitantly. “Okay.” 

“Near the Tree of Souls,” you tell him, knees shaky as you draw an arrow and load your bow. 

You creep forward slowly, willowy frame shielding Neteyam as you move through the forest. 

He barely notices, only sees it when you pause a moment too long, body twitching as the bow quivers in your loosening grasp. 

“________?” Neteyam’s voice is testing, closing the berth. 

Your bow lowers, fingers brushing over the wound once again. When you assess the wetness of the pads of your fingers, Neteyam’s able to get a good look at the damage. 

His eyes widen, grabbing your shoulders tightly when he sees that your eyes are drooping. 

“Wait,” he says sharply. “Don’t—”

Your bloody hand brushes his chin. 

“Make sure…make sure they are…” 

“She must rest.” 

“It will only be for a moment.” 

The words slur together, distant and muddy as your eyes flicker open to assess your surroundings. 

“Maite, you are awake.” Your mother kneels next to you, expression a picture of harrowing concern. “Oh, Eywa, I’m glad you are awake.” 

It returns in waves, like the ebb and flow of water dousing you. The enemy, in bodies like your own, ruthless to creatures both gentle and roaring. Clothed like humans with gear so imposing, you nearly shrunk with such a small bow and only enough arrows to make each shot count. 

You’d taken out two of them with shaky hands before their hailing bullets pierced the trunks of trees and left gaping holes in the leaves. One had landed, lodged its way right above the left side of your pelvis. 

It aches as you sit up, seeing the aftermath of what must have been a grisly extraction. 

“Stop, stop,” your mother says quickly, hands on your shoulders to guide you back. “You will disturb Mo’at’s work.” 

“There are more of them,” you rush. “They are–” 

“Shh, my child,” she coaxes. “They are gone.” 

It had been a horrific sight, seeing Neteyam carrying you back to the village, limp and listless, covered in the blood of multiple parties with a nearly animalistic look in his eye. 

“Where is Neteyam?” you whisper, lashes wet. 

The look on your mother’s face softens with pity, knowing, as she sees it written all over your face. 

She’d known it before and she’d known it after you approached her and your father with the request to call off the union. 

I don’t love him, you’d said, unable to meet their eyes as you confessed. Eywa’s made a mistake with us. I want to be with someone that I love.

You’d been embarrassed, wanted to save face. You didn’t want them to know that the only man you’d ever known from adolescence to young adulthood hadn’t wanted a thing to do with you. 

“I’m here.” 

Neteyam’s entering the tent with your father hot on his heels, obviously defying his wishes to leave you be. 

His forearm is wrapped in medicinal leaves, tied off with thin vine. A cut slices his brow bone, the wound still red and raw. 

“I told you–” 

Your mother shoots your father a contemptuous look before turning to you to smooth some of the hair away from your face. 

“Eywa makes no mistakes, Maite,” she whispers, gaze pleading. 

She’s on her feet, crossing the tent to meet Neteyam half way. With a comforting squeeze to his shoulder, she pushes your protesting father through the hide and suddenly the air is shrouded in silence save for your labored breathing and the weight of the eldest Sully’s gaze. 

“I thought I lost you,” Neteyam says, the tiniest inflection of trembling pricking your ears. 

You blink, watching as he stands at the end of the mat. He’s fidgeting but his eyes are searing, shaking with tears as he stares at you unblinking—like you’ll disappear between the shutter of his heavy eyelids. 

You don’t know what to say, the lump lodged in your throat far too thick for you to form coherent words around. 

Neteyam continues for the both of you. 

“I thought that I wouldn’t…that I…” 

You watch as he crumbles. 

“Wouldn’t what?” you finally ask, voice dry. 

“I thought that I wouldn’t be able to give us a chance.” 

Your jaw tenses, breaking eye contact first as you shake your head in defeat. 

“There isn’t an us,” you sigh shakily. “Said so yourself.” 

“Oh, come on,” Neteyam scoffs, voice thick with tears. “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” you argue, clutching your injured side as it pulses with every beat of your thundering heart. 

“Don’t—don’t give up on me yet,” he whispers. “Please.” 

Your expression crumples and his face falls as you knuckle your tears away angrily. 

“You’re cruel, Neteyam. So so cruel,” you murmur. “I am ashamed that you have my heart.” 

The words are spoken with a quiet vindication that makes Neteyam feel like his nerve endings are fraying. A singular tear arcs over the swell of your cheek and an ache roots in his gut. 

“Don’t say that,” he says, throat bobbing as he swallows the emotion threatening to bubble over. “I–” 

“Neteyam.” Your father’s voice is stern, the flap of the tent flipping as he reenters. 

Neteyam bites the inside of his lip as he spares you one last glance and your resolve dissipates when the broad expanse of his back faces you. 

You’d expected Neteyam taking his leave to be some semblance of closure for the two of you, as clean of a break as you could come to terms with now that any precarious ties that bound the two of you were severed. But you hadn’t anticipated the singular ember inside of Neteyam fanning to be engulfing and all-consuming. 

“I know you’re there,” you say simply, plucking the petals and leaves from the flora to tuck into the small pouch strung across your chest. 

He’d been following you all afternoon, lingering a safe distance away, but his eyes haven’t left your healing frame and what had initially been confusion began to bleed into annoyance. 

“Pay me no mind,” he says simply, emerging from the brush with a bow and quiver.

It’s been over a week since the sky people had infiltrated your corner of the forest and Neteyam hasn’t let you leave his sight once.

From the morning eclipse to the evening’s, Neteyam’s doted on you; shearing chunks of fruit, grinding down your herbs for your treatments, rewrapping your wound under Mo’at’s careful supervision. 

You’d asked him to give you a moment of peace in the forest alone, but it wasn’t long before you scented him, heard his labored breathing as he tried to keep up with you. 

You heed his word, stonewalling his presence like he’s nothing but another leaf stretching from the trees. And for a while, a long stretch of silence surrounds the two of you as you venture deeper and deeper into the forest. 

But before you know it, each one of your steps is exchanged like for like, his looming and muscular frame eclipsing you like a shadow as you try to ignore the fact that he’s drawing nearer. 

You turn on your heel to face him just as he settles a pace away, eyes clear and golden. 

“What?” you snip, taking a step back. 

He takes a step forward. 

“You should not overexert yourself,” he replies simply. 

“And what happened to paying you no mind?” 

His fingers brush your sore wound and your gaze flits to the way his fingertips ghost over the dressing wrapped around the expanse of your lower abdomen. 

The grin he gives you has many layers. You immediately decipher something sly, coy, as he searches your face. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” he says quietly. “I want you to pay me all the mind.” 

Your expression is dry, eyes rolling as you step away from him. You’re swatting his palm away and shaking your head like a final warning. 

“You don’t get to flirt with me after all this time,” you say, blanketing the semi-tense air with a cover of finality. “And you shouldn’t. There is no longer an obligation for us to be within vicinity of each other.” 

You sound so cold, like you hadn’t spent the past decade pining after him in your own weird way. Like you hadn’t turned a blind eye when he found comfort in hopeful women despite wearing your heart on your oddly-stitched sleeve. Hadn’t been so willing to spend forever with him.

“You cannot dictate the turn of my heart,” Neteyam argues. 

The look you give him could instill fear in even the most intimidating predators. 

“You’d go to great lengths to quell a guilty conscience?” you ask. “Do not forget that forever is a long time. If nothing about our union piques your interest now, do not count on anything in the future.” 

You’re feeling for buttons to push, tender spots that will make him let up, but Neteyam isn’t easily swayed. He doesn’t know if he loves you now, but the last few weeks make certain that he will. He isn’t ashamed to admit that he’s falling fast and hard.  

“You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily, yawne.” 

The nickname makes you freeze, makes your eyes narrow as you glare up at the future olo’eyktan. 

“Don’t be insufferable, Neteyam.” 

“Duties be damned, I’ll spend every remaining moment doing right by you,” he says, fingers threading through yours so that he can bring your knuckles to his lips. 

Your heart wavers and he sees the way the curtain falls, eyes a fraction softer. 

He grins, tugging you closer. Moves your hair over your shoulder then skims his fingers along the sharpness of your jaw. 

It draws a shiver from you as you shift nervously, gaze fluttering from his eyes to the plush of his mouth. 

“Stop,” you whisper meekly. “We–”

“You’re mine, you hear me?” His voice is raw, edge melting away. “Union or no union. It’s always going to be you and me.” 

neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul , @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn , @fanboyluvr , @mazemymirror , @itssiaaax , @girlpostingsposts, @athenachu , @hiya-itsamber , @morks-watermelon 

[askinkiskarma]

ok so i am now incredibly sore from the gym to the point my legs gave out and i collapsed onto the ground while it did hurt an idea awakened within me

can u just imagine neteyam like massaging your sore spots kissing them and being like "do not worry yawntu, you will feel better soon"

BUT ALSO smutty thought of him just holding you up and wide saying how good you make him feel and he'll make you feel better 😭AHHHHHH

ok goodbye love you mwahwhahwhhwhwwhah

i hope you're less sore after this, bestie ;)

wc: 487 words

warnings: smut (18+, minors dni - p in v, praising)

"Ow, Teyam, it hurts!" his low, soft chuckles bring small bouts of annoyance in your chest, that immediately settle as his long fingers trace the curve of your spine from your loincloth to your neck, leaving flutters of spiny, prickling shivers in their wake, before wrapping around your shoulders, his thumbs pressing on the knots that have formed there in the days of unrelenting practice and training you have been subjected to. "Relax, my love. that's why i'm here."

His touch is skilled, like it always is, and the relief you feel in all the sore muscles his hands work through is instantaneous and terribly needed, and by the end of his ministrations, you are fully melted into your mattress, deep and steady breaths bringing you close to slumber. Those breaths cease promptly and immediately as his hands reach the plum of your ass, slowly inching downwards, to your glossed-over folds, that he marvels at, as he removes you from the constraints of your loincloth.

"t-teyam, what are you doing?"

"shh, yawne, just making sure you are... fully relaxed. it would be such a... shame to have to go to sleep without all of your... knots loosened."

he gathers some of the slick already dripping down your body and you whimper at the contact and at not being able to see him, see his face stretched into a mischievous grin or his glimmering eyes as he takes in your wet pussy, so ready for him already, before he even filled you.

A small moan escapes his lips as he brings his fingers to his lips and licks them cleam, and you clench around nothing at the erotic sound, so filthy and so exciting in his voice and in his tone, and you want nothing more for that sound to be the soundtrack of your life, to fill your every moment and every day, from now until eternity.

"you taste so good, yawne. so good."

the thick head of his cock makes your hips buck in surprise as it greets your sopping entrance and you feel your vision blurring as tears prickle in your eyes from the overwhelming stretch, as he pushes gently into you, a stretch that never got easier, or less intense, or less mindblowingly pleasurable. Each inch is a step closer to heaven, to nirvana, to valhalla, to eywa, and when he bottoms out, you feel ecstasy take over your brain and your body, like a current ready to sweep you off your feet.

"such a good girl. the best girl. you always take me so well, yawne. now let's see about untying those pesky knots."

safe to say you were fully relaxed after that, and the soreness in some muscles was swiftly replaced with an ache in others, one you never wanted to part with, and smiling a soft, spent smile as you felt sleep overtake you, you knew he would never let you.

[gvcci-bxby]

"kiss me or shush"

neteyam sully x omaticaya reader

word count: 132 words

summary: after teasing your crush neteyam, he say's something unexpected causing you to do something unexpected.

warnings: none, just fluff!

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

“Kiss me or shush.” Neteyam says, glancing at you, a boyish smile on his lips.

You had been teasing him about his mistakes during training, your little way of flirting. Neteyam’s suggestion to kiss him caught you off guard; your relationship, at this point, consisted only of flirtatious comments and brief touching.

You decided to bite the bullet, standing on the tip of your toes to push your lips into his. Instantly, Neteyam pulled you in deepening the kiss, his fingers intertwining with your hair. For a while now you wondered what it would feel like to kiss him, dreaming about a moment like this. Neteyam’s lips were pillowy soft, the taste of his mouth sweet. You sigh into Neteyam’s mouth, your enthusiasm slipping out of you, your wildest dreams coming true.