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tallulah477 · 5 months ago

Text

Feral

Survive The Night Day 2: Predator/Prey

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Dark!Neteyam, ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Oral (female receiving), P in V, Sex Pollen, Size Difference, Chasing, Primal Play (Predator/Prey Kink), Creampie, Hair Pulling, Knife Play, Restraining Holds (i.e pinning/holding reader down), Fear Kink (?), Alien Genitalia (not really the focus, but its there), Knotting, Belly Bulge

Word Count: 7.3K

A/N: Based off a dream I had where Neteyam chased me through my house and I was running for my fucking life. Why didn't I let him catch me, you ask? Cause dream Talie is stupid.

Summary: You never understood why the Na'vi don't use this particular plant in their healing practices. It's a miracle plant for the humans - cutting healing times nearly in half when used as a topical paste. You would think it would have some similar benefits to the Na'vi. You would be wrong.

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

Translations:

Tawtute - Human

Kehe rikx - Don't move

Rutxe ftang - Please stop

Kehe - No

Even considering he’s a nine foot tall blue alien, Neteyam Sully still looks extremely out of place standing on the clean, white tiled floor of the lab.

His siblings don’t look so out of place when they visit - comfortable and familiar enough within the confines of the lab to make themselves at home among the multitude of beakers, whirling machines, and thick observation glass that make up your day-to-day workplace. Their large bodies twisting and contorting with ease when necessary to accommodate for the smaller space.

Neteyam isn’t so lucky. He doesn’t like the human facilities, opting to follow in his mother’s footsteps and stay as far away from the skypeople as he can. He’s only here because he was ordered to be, sent by his father to fix his broken throat comm before they head out with the hunting party on a three day hunting trip.

He looks uncomfortable as he stands behind you, back stiff and arms crossed across his broad chest as he watches you tinker with the comm. Repairing tech has never been your strong suit, so it’s taking you a bit longer to figure out than it probably should have, but since you're currently the only person left in this half of the base, the responsibility has unintentionally fallen to you.

You should be out there too. The thought forms bitterly in your head as you poke at the small opened compartment of the comm with your tweezers. Your favorite part of research is going out into the world and finding the specimens. The lab is great, a fine place for breaking ground and learning new things, gathering knowledge and data about a flora and fauna in a way that no other humans had ever had the opportunity to do before. Pandora is your home, where you grew up and lived your whole life - and yet, it’s still a mystery, and you learn something new and beautiful about it everyday.

But the real fun is outside the lab. It’s when you're out there, in the thick of it, stepping over breaching roots and feeling the moss of the ground between your toes when you take off your shoes during a rest break. It’s feeling the gentle breeze of air along your skin and hearing the trees rustle in the canopy above you as a result, and pretending that - just for a minute - you can feel the breeze of alien air brush against your face instead of your mask.

Usually one of the older scientists, Alice, offers to stay behind at the lab to run tests and be on call for the Omatikaya should human tech ever be needed. But she’s the most knowledgeable when it comes to locating the elusive and seasonally grown plant that’s come to be known as the Rust Plant.

So, that leaves you here, on your ass and pouting while everyone else gets to go off and have their fun.

As far as you know, the plant doesn’t have any special properties or spiritual significance to the Na’vi. But when the red dust-like powder is collected from the center and manipulated into a liquid, the result is a miracle paste that significantly reduces healing time with human injuries. You asked about it once - why the Na’vi don’t try to make the paste for themselves to see if it will work on them - but the only answer you got back was that it had some ‘unintended consequences’ when used by the clan, so they stay away from the plant altogether.

You don’t think about that when Neteyam walks in.

The plant mixture, once rust red, is now a beautiful glowing purple inside the beaker - a reaction from the solution added to the powder to form the liquid base. It’s been on the hot plate for a while now, but it’s only just starting to heat up enough to provide small spirals of smoke inside the clear glass.

You’re glancing at the clock when you hear Neteyam sniff slightly behind you. You don’t turn around, ignoring the little puffs of air that somehow sound like bullet shots in the silence, but a part of you is instantly insecure. What is he smelling? It can't be the mixture in the beaker. Despite the smoke, it doesn’t give off any kind of smell. Subtly, you press your chin to your chest, trying to see if you can smell yourself to find out if maybe it’s you giving off some kind of stench that his overly sensitive nose is picking up on, but you don’t smell anything off about you either.

The purple liquid is still thin inside the container, needing several more minutes of constant heat in order to bubble and thicken slightly before it can be considered a usable product, but you pause your tinkering on the comm to note the time for the smoke in a small notebook.

Neteyam lets out a loud sigh when you drop the tweezers to grab a pencil, the annoyed huff nearly ear piercing in the quiet of the lab. This time you can’t help but glance towards the harsh noise, a slight tilt of your head towards the large Na’vi and your eyes meet amber for just a second before they drop again to the paper as you scribble.

A part of you wants to be snobby, ask a prissy ‘can I help you?’ just because you feel like he’s being so unnecessarily rude when you're just trying to help, but you keep your mouth shut.

He doesn’t.

“Are you nearly done?” He grunts, accented tone pitched with agitation as his feet shuffle on the tile.

“Yes, just a few more minutes,” You say, picking the tweezers back up. “Be patient.”

You think you’ve almost got the comm fixed, just a minor replacement to the tiny inside panel, and you're thankful that’s all it is. It shouldn’t take too long. You’ve nearly got the replacement piece in place now, so all you should have to do is solder it in and it should be fine. Which is good because the sooner you can get this fixed, the sooner you can get the huffy, oversized, unfortunately very handsome despite being an incredible dick of a Na’vi out of the lab so you don’t have to feel him breathing down your neck anymore.

It only takes another couple minutes for the smoke to consume the rest of the empty space in the beaker, thick white wisps swirling inside of the glass and spiraling out of the top. You drop the tweezers again, cutting the power off to the hot plate and grab the pencil again to log the time.

Neteyam sniffs again, this time audibly louder and longer, before it sounds like his breath gets caught in his lungs.

Immediately, your head spins around to stare at him wide eyed, surprise and concern flooding your chest when you notice he’s backed up a few steps. He’s staring at the bubbling beaker, yellow eyes set with suspicion and what almost looks like distress.

“Are you o–”

“What is that?” He interrupts, voice gruff as his three fingered hand points to the beaker.

“It’s… the mixture for our healing paste,” You reply, confused.

“No! What is it?”

“The Rust Plant? The one that grows on the sides of river b–”

You’re cut off again by a sharp hiss, and you have just a second to register Neteyam’s dagger-like teeth as he stalks forward, spitting out a frustrated “You stupid–” before he’s jerking back, hand immediately covering his nose as if to stop himself from breathing.

He looks wild, eyes frantic as he stares at the beaker, and every muscle in his body looks tense, stung up tight like a bow ready to shoot. You’re a scientist, you’re meant to be observant, so you don’t know why you didn’t see it before. But it’s clear as anything now. The smoke doesn’t have any kind of smell to you, but to him - with the way he’s backing away and covering his nose to keep from breathing it in - it must be horrible.

His tail is trashing behind him, so upset that you think you can almost hear a swish from it cutting through the air like a whip.

“I need to leave,” He says suddenly. Instinctively, you back up into the desk at the sight of the large and angry Na’vi coming at you again, but he just grabs the still broken comm and turns around to storm out.

He’s big though, too much for the small space of the lab, and his frantic tail is still thrashing as he turns. The thin appendage accidentally snaps against the side of the still smoking beaker, sending it flying off the desk and onto the ground.

The glass shatters against the tile, glowing purple spreading across the white floor in a large puddle as the smoke spirals up into the air. Neteyam’s hand instinctively drops from his nose to grip onto his tail, holding the end of it close to him as if to keep it from swinging and smacking into anything else. But you watch, shocked and frozen in your spot as he takes one shuddering breath, and then another, tense back muscles shifting under his cobalt skin with each inhale and exhale of air.

“Neteyam?” You ask, timidly. Dread shoots through your chest and you have the feeling that something very serious just happened, but you don’t even know what.

He’s just standing there now, back towards you, but he’s not moving towards the door anymore. It’s like something is keeping him from moving, some unseen force that exploded out of the glass container when it burst and wrapped its tendrils around him before he could take another step.

Whatever he was smelling from the beaker wasn’t good for him, and now it's in the air, invisible signatures swirling through the small space of the lab, and it's affecting him - the ‘unintended consequences’ of the Rust Plant on the Na’vi.

Your every instinct is telling you to stay away from him, that he’s dangerous. But he’s one of the Omatikaya, and regardless of how he views humans, you know he would never hurt you and disobey his father like that.

“Hey,” You say, gently. You force yourself away from the desk, slowly moving around him to try to not startle him as you attempt to make your way to the airlock door. “Just relax, okay? Let’s try to air this pl–”

His deep growl has you frozen again, cold ice shoots through your veins at the predatory sound. It’s not a normal growl - not a low, quick sound made in anger or frustration. It sounds dark, a deep dangerous rumbling that came from his chest. A warning.

You watch in horror as he slowly tilts his head towards you, the pointed tips of his sharp teeth visible under the snarled curl of his lips, glittering in the bright fluorescent lights of the lab. Your brain screams at you to run - danger, danger, danger, it shouts, but you can’t move. The realization hits hard: he’s not Neteyam anymore. The Na’vi in front of you is not the same human-indifferent, scoffing, fearless warrior son of Toruk Makto.

He’s an animal. A predator.

Feral.

His golden eyes are now just a thin band of dark honey encircling two endless black holes. And in their reflection you see yourself - tiny and weak. Scared.

Prey.

His body shifts slightly, just the most minuscule movements as he angles himself towards you that you probably wouldn’t have noticed had your survival instincts not been ringing alarm bells in your brain. Without thinking, you grab the hot plate, gripping it tightly at its base and holding it in front of you as your only form of weapon.

“Neteyam Sully!” You shout, and you can’t even believe how out of your mind you are to try to use his full name like an upset mother. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you stop it right now!”

There’s not even a second after the words leave your mouth, not a beat or breath or anything before he’s coming at you.

Your body registers his sudden movement before your brain does, the roaring snarl bouncing off the walls of the lab as he lunges at you. The hot plate is out of your hands in an instant, the hard base of the plate smacking into his face with a loud cuh-thunk. His snarl is interrupted with a grunt from the hit, body jerking back a step from the impact, and you don’t wait around to see the way his eyes zero in on your retreating form again in rage.

You can’t think - your body is moving without your brain telling it what to do. Pure panic mixed with raw survival instincts is what drives you through the door behind you, nearly smacking into the wall as you barrel down the main hallway. You hear Neteyam’s footsteps close behind, bare feet smacking against the tile.

It’s a sound you never thought you would find terrifying. You think of little Mae, the daughter of the staff nurse and one of the science guys, and how the sound of her tiny footsteps stomping on these same tiles floors always brought a smile to your face. You could always hear her coming before you saw her, just a few seconds before she rounded the corner with unsteady steps ready to cause havoc as she tries to run from her exhausted and overstimulated mother.

These ones are louder though. Heavier, but somehow more quiet as they rush at you from across the unobstructed hall. Your body doesn’t wait for your mind to catch up, and that’s probably a good thing considering you have no idea how the fuck you knew to take the split second turn to your right the exact moment Neteyam tried to pounce.

You hear his snarl of anger as he rights himself, loud and echoing through the hallway. You’ve managed to best him for a second, but he’s still on your ass - gaining ground on you with his long Na’vi legs despite the cramped human-sized halls.

Your heart is racing in your chest, pounding with fear, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins is the only thing keeping you going. You can’t breathe - shallow, panicked, quick puffs of air rip from you as you run, your high pitched gasps sounding against the hall walls as a foil to Neteyam’s predatory growls.

“HELP!” You scream, voice cracking with how loud you're trying to scream. The desperation and pure terror are evident in your voice and you know if someone were around they would hear you for sure. Someone has to be around. They have to be. “SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE!”

No one responds. No one steps in to intervene. No one even opens their door to try to take a little bit of a peek. No one to run to for help even though it feels like you're about to get mauled to death by a Thanator.

You’re truly alone. And that thought makes you somehow even more desperate.

Most people have a tendency to close the doors of their bedrooms, trying to keep as much privacy as they can in the small base. Norm has no such desires, often too excited or too focused on getting to his studies that he outright forgets to close his door.

It’s a god send now that you’re sprinting through the residency part of the outpost. Your room is one of the last down the hall. You won’t make it. Not with the way you’re shaking right now, body feeling like it's somehow both freezing over with ice and lighting on fire as the fear and adrenaline fight for dominance for your immediate attention. Neteyam’s right behind you, long stride more than twice the size of yours cutting any distance you gained through your miracle of a move back down to barely anything at all.

He’s going to catch you.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

Throwing yourself at a random door is dangerous. Just the extra second it takes to turn the knob and push the door open could almost certainly be the difference between life and death if you even still have a chance at life at all. And even then you run the risk of it being locked. Your eye catches on Norm’s door - open and shining like a beacon of hope amongst the fluorescently lit hallway.

You don’t have another choice.

You turn.

As soon as you make it through the threshold, you slam the door behind you as fast as you can.

You don’t know what you expected, naively hoping that the door would somehow succeed in protecting you and keeping Neteyam out. It’s not even locked.

You scream as the door explodes under Neteyam’s weight, the wood splintering as it bursts apart, smaller bits of fragmented wood spraying towards you as the feral Na’vi shoulders his way in. The bathroom to your left is the only option, and you lunge for it just as Neteyam lunges for you. The tears pouring down your cheeks burn your eyes and blur your vision, your loud hyperventilating cries make your throat raw. Another door just barely slammed in his face and your back presses against the opposite door, your panicked hand trying to jiggle the knob but your brain not reminding you how to twist it. This other door hasn’t been used in years - the bathroom that once connected these two rooms together is just used by Norm now since Mary had her baby and her and her husband moved into a larger room to accommodate the crib. It’s locked, and your fingers are struggling to twist the mechanism up to unlock it when Neteyam breaks through.

Even through your blurred vision, you see it clearly. His arm reaches through the hole his shoulder has made, and the bathroom is too small, too fucking small because that arm looks like its reaching across the entire length of it, fingers splayed out like if he can just get one of the tips to brush you, he’ll snatch you up.

“HELP!” You scream again. Fuck fuck fuck. You’re going to fucking die. “HELP ME!”

You watch the door in horror as Neteyam pulls his arm back, head dropping to glare at you through the opening, and your veins fill with ice.

He looks murderous - pupils blown so wide you can’t see the golden ring wrapped around them at all. You want to drop to the ground under that stare, beg for mercy even though the look in his eyes makes it clear there won’t be any.

“N-Neteyam,” You stutter. Your heart is pounding so fast, blood sounding like it’s rushing in your ears so fast you don’t know how you haven’t had a heart attack yet. “P-please s-stop. P-please.”

His eyes stay locked on yours through the hole in the door, dark and glaring but for some reason he’s paused his attacks. A part of you wonders if your begging is making it through to the non-animalistic part of his brain. Whatever the smoke from the mixture of the Rust Plant did to him, it has to be only temporary. He’s still Neteyam. Neteyam is still in there somewhere.

“Please,” You try again, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re scaring me.”

He leans forward, one hand curling around the broken wood from the open hole in the door. When he speaks, you don’t know if you’re relieved to hear that he can despite the overwhelming feral actions, or if you’re horrified at how his voice comes out.

He doesn’t sound like himself at all. His words are clipped, short words made sentences that you don’t understand as both the gravely and growled way he says them as well as overall meaning.

“Tawtute,” He growls. “Mine.”

“Wha— I-I don’t understand,”

You scream when he hisses at you, long canines and sharp teeth on display through the damaged opening and you have a front row seat to the show as your back presses harder against the door behind you. The hand wrapped around the edge of the hole pulls back suddenly, taking with it a huge chunk of the center and the loud crack and snap of wood snaps your body back into gear. You twist the small lock on the door behind you, unlocking it and wrenching it open when Neteyam throws his body against the opposite door again. You’re out the door and into the next room, slamming the door shut behind you just as you hear the telltale crash of the wild Na’vi breaking through the other barrier. Without thinking, you round the side of the bookshelf that stands on the side of the doorframe. You push with all your might, tipping the bookshelf on its side so that it falls diagonally across the door. A dresser sits just on the opposite side of the door, the bookshelf catching on the edge of the dresser so that it blocks a good portion of the bathroom door.

Any other time you’d be heartbroken to see the books that fall off the bookshelf in your mishandling scatter along the floor and at your feet like they were nothing more than trash. Today, though, you can’t give a shit about that.

Your hands grip your hair in frustration as you hear Neteyam’s body barrel into the door, hot tears racing down your face as you waste valuable seconds staring at the bending wood behind the tipped bookcase. It won’t keep him back for long. He could probably easily push it out of his way, but it's something. Your only hope now is that it keeps him long enough for you to get away and that his instinct driven brain doesn’t realize he can just go back the way he came to get around the obstacle.

Turning on your heel, you sprint out the bedroom door, heading back down the hallway towards the lab. The sound of the loud crash echoing through the empty hall makes you run impossibly faster. Was it the door finally giving way under his weight? Or was it the bookshelf being tossed to the side like it was nothing and he’s about to barrel down the hallway to finish the job that you’ve somehow managed to postpone until now?

You make it back to the lab, foot smacking against the forgotten hotplate still laying on the ground in your haste to get to the airlock. Your hand smacks against the button on the side wall, fingers practically choking the heavy handle as you go to yank it open. The oxygen masks lay forgotten on the shelf next to the door. You don’t care about them, don’t care about breathing right now because what’s good about breathing when Neteyam could end your need for it in just seconds if he catches you.

The airlock door hisses as the seal breaks and for a split second you think you’ve done it - have somehow managed to survive this deadly game of cat and mouse you’ve inadvertently been forced to play. You can grab a mask and slip inside the airlock. Keep Neteyam locked up here in the lab while you sit safely outside until the others get back or he comes to his senses enough to remember how to open the airlock door himself.

But no sooner than the thought crosses your mind, an arm wraps tightly around your waist and pulls you from your death grip on the thick metal door.

You scream as you’re tossed to the floor, body pressed against the cold tile as Neteyam straddles you. His hips pin your legs down, leaving them useless and unable to buck or kick under his massive weight. You beat at his chest with your fists as hard as you can, trying to ignore how they hurt from your balled up fists trying to hit against pure solid muscle.

Panic manifests in your desperate cries and you aim for his face too, trying to hit or slap or scratch - anything to get him off of you. You feel like an injured animal caught in a trap. And you suppose you are.

“Get off!” You cry. “Get off me, Neteyam!”

He snarls as one of your hits lands too close next to his eye and he grabs your hands tightly in one of his, pinning them above your head.

Your screams stop, catching in your throat when the bright fluorescent lights of the lab catch on the knife on his hip. The light caresses the blade as he pulls it from its sheath, the sharp tip sparkling as he brings it to press against the base of your throat.

His face is in front of yours in an instant, so close you feel like you can barely breathe in the wake of the knife resting at your throat and the way his huge eyes feel like twin black holes threatening to suck you into their depths if you move even a single centimeter.

“Kehe rikx,” His words are hardly more than a whispered breath against your face, but their translation rings loudly in your ears.

Don’t move.

The point of the knife drags against your neck, scratching lightly as he draws it down your collarbone. It pulls at the fabric at the neck of your t-shirt as he moves it down your chest, stretching and bunching it down as he scrapes the tip through the valley of your breasts. Your heart pounds under the deadly tip of the weapon and your body wants to fight, keep fighting for your life that you know could be taken from you with just a quick movement of his hand, but your fear keeps you frozen.

Something hard presses against your trapped thighs and your eyes automatically rip themselves from the knife down to the space between your bodies, and your breathing catches in your throat again for a whole other reason.

Neteyam’s cock is hard in his loincloth, having escaped its sheath and filling out under the thin material enough to raise a sizable tent inside it.

He doesn’t give you time to react as his head bends down and latches onto the swell of your breast through your shirt, sharp teeth digging into it just enough for marks to surely be left even through the layers of shirt and bra. You yelp, back arching instinctively against the pain, and your body unfreezes as his teeth scrape against your breast before digging into the material of your shirt and ripping.

The loud sound of tearing fabric rips through the room and Neteyam releases the torn fabric from his mouth just to grip it with his hands instead, pulling up and out and exposing your bra clad torso to his darkened crazed eyes. The knife is still in his hand, but the blade is pointed sideways now as he uses the fingers around it to rip your shirt apart. It’s not smart, not a smart idea at all to try your hand at smacking at him again, but you have to do something.

You don’t know what he wants anymore. What did that mixture do to him? He was chasing you through these halls, growling and snarling like a predator on the hunt for its next meal, and now he’s on top of you - hard and tearing your clothes off like he wants to fuck you.

You only get a couple smacks in before the knife is back at your chest and you’re forced still again. Neteyam’s eyes are locked onto your chest, following the tip of the knife as he slides it under the band of your bra directly between your breasts. It cuts easily under the pressure of the sharp knife and the covering falls on either side of your chest, leaving you bare to his hungry gaze.

There’s a mark on your breast from where his teeth had dug into it and he pauses to stare at it greedily.

“N-Netayam,” You say, slowly. He seems a little calmer now that he has you trapped under him. You need to talk him to his senses. He’s still in there somewhere. He has to be. He’s not all animal. He can be reasoned with. “You don’t wanna do this. Plea–”

Your plea is cut off as he rises off of you, crouching back just enough to give himself room to flip you roughly over on your stomach. You grunt as your bare chest hits the cold tile, arms splayed uselessly on either side of you as you try to get your bearings from the quick movement before he’s using his knife to cut through the denim of your shorts.

“Neteyam! Rutxe ftang! Kehe!”

You don’t know why you think pleading in Na’vi will be any different than English, but desperation punches the frantic words out of you before you can even think about deciding to say them. Your hands finally find purchase on the ground beneath you and you try to push yourself up in hopes of crawling away, but Neteyam’s dropping the knife and taking hold of your hips before you can.

High pitched squeaking sounds hit your ears as he drags your body across the tile. Your hands scramble frantically against the floor as you’re pulled backwards, but there’s nothing to hold onto. They just slide uselessly, voicing their protest in the way the tile screams under your grasping fingertips as you’re hoisted up with your lower half in the air.

Your back arches against Neteyam’s hold, legs kicking in the air but doing no harm despite their efforts. The hole he’s created in your shorts is enough to have your pussy on display for him, and you can feel his breath on it - hot puffs are the only warning you get before his mouth is on you. Your voice is raw from all the screaming you’ve done, the sound crackling and almost pained as you shout again - shout for him to stop and to let you go as you kick and squirm and beg.

You want to cry more, any drying tears of fear you have still tracked on your cheeks are replaced with tears of humiliation. Your clit pulses under his relentless tongue, pussy subconsciously clenching around nothing as he licks and sucks over the puffy folds.

You’re wet.

You’re so wet already, body confusing the adrenaline caused by fear and desperation and flooding it with the adrenaline that comes with arousal instead. His textured tongue slips across your sticky cunt, licking up your wetness, and a reluctant moan escapes your lips at the rough feel on your sensitive parts.

A gleam to your right catches your attention and a flicker of hope rushes through you at the sight. Neteyam’s knife is laying on the ground next to you, scattered just far enough when he dropped it that it's a stretch for you to grab it, but not impossible. He’s distracted by your cunt, chest rumbling in what you can only describe as a more aggressive type of purr and your face contorts in unwanted pleasure as the vibrations pulse against your clit.

You reach for the knife, using one hand pressed against the tile to gain any kind of leverage you can while your other arm stretches out towards the forgotten blade. You're not even sure what you’re going to do with it when it’s in your hand. Would you just threaten him with it? Tell him to back off and that you’ll use it if he doesn’t? Would you cut him a little to show that you’re serious?

Would you stab him if it came to it?

Your fingers graze along the hilt of the knife, fingertips brushing along the part that it can touch and curling in, trying to coax the knife just a bit closer so you can grab it. Neteyam growls into your cunt, and you let out a gasping curse when his foot lands on your wrist, pinning it to the tile before you can work your hand around the knife.

“You son of a bitch!” You yell, anger burning through your desperation, but all Neteyam does is push his face deeper into your pussy. His large hands rip at the back of your shorts more, fingers digging into the exposed curves of your ass to spread you apart.

The pressure in your belly intensifies as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves before wrapping his lips around it in what feels like an almost pleasured punishment.

You’re going to cum. Fuck fuck you’re going to cum on the tongue of the practically feral Na’vi who just chased you through the halls of your own home and made you think he was going to rip you to shreds and leave you to die on the floor for your coworkers to find. It feels so good, so so good and you wail as your pussy spasms against his relentless tongue, contracting against the wet muscle as the coil in your belly bursts in an explosion of uncontrolled pleasure.

Neteyam groans against your core, lapping up everything you have to offer as you whine and shake. Your legs, still suspended in the air, are becoming numb - the tingling sensation of your limbs losing their life combining with the dramatic pulsing over your oversensitive cunt.

You grunt as he drops you to the ground, his foot lifting off your wrist as he crouches back up, and you pull it to your chest, cradling it there and quickly checking for any injury as your body automatically tries to curl up in a protective ball.

His hands are back on your hips in an instant, pulling you back again across the floor until your ass is pressed up against his front. Your blood runs cold when your bare ass meets bare skin. The bulge that was once blocked by the thin layer of his loincloth is now free - large, dominant, and demanding of attention as it presses tightly against you.

Demanding of your attention.

The hand on the back of your neck is uncaring as it pushes you down, forcing your face against the white tiled floor as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Neteyam, no! Please!” You beg, even as your back is forced to arch from the exposed position he has you in.

And maybe if this was a different situation, a different circumstance, he would have used this opportunity to tease you. Tell you to stop fussing and stay still. To be a good girl for him while he fucks your tight cunt and maybe if you’re good enough, he would let you cum again. You would let him. Neteyam is beautiful, more handsome than any other Na’vi you’ve ever seen. If he would have been kind to you and shown interest in you like that, you would have agreed to fuck him in a heartbeat.

But he’s not himself. Doesn’t even have his mind enough to acknowledge your pleas with anything more than agitated snarls and frustrated growls.

His cock feels monstrous as he rubs it between your soaked folds. Thick and hard as the wetness of his own slick mixes with the sticky mess you have already between your thighs. The head of his cock rubs against your tender clit and you can feel how the sheer size of it forces your pussy lips apart.

You can’t take it inside you. Fuck. You can’t. You can’t.

You whimper when the tip makes its way back to your entrance, nudging against it before the blunt tip presses forward. Your hands press into the tile on either side of your head, mouth falling open in a silent scream even as he presses your cheek further into the floor as he pushes his cock further into you. You feel every thick inch of it as it spears you open, and you expect it to hurt. It should hurt, especially with the way you’re clamping down around him, body automatically trying to keep it out even as it bullies its way deeper inside you.

There’s pressure, so much pressure. He’s too big, large alien cock way too much for your tiny human body to take, but somehow it is. Your brain is trying to tell you to panic, that the pressure is pain and you should scream and cry and try to wiggle away from it. But it's not. He’s stretching you so much, filling you up - but it doesn’t. hurt.

And that realization hurts you more than the cock currently rearranging your guts ever could.

You know it’s the slick. Despite never being with a Na’vi yourself, you know that the wetness that coats a male’s cock to aid it with slipping out of its protective sheath has something in it that eases the pain of penetration. It’s a good thing. Inherently helpful for any relationship, especially for those between a human and a Na’vi to curb the extra struggle of the size difference.

You always thought it was sweet. A way for Eywa to reward the loyalty of the good sky people who are lucky enough to find everlasting bonds with her own children.

Now, the idea of it leaves a bad taste in your mouth as the cock inside you pulls out only to thrust in harder. The texture on his cock scrapes against your slick walls as he starts to fuck you, the bumps and barbs rubbing and pressing against the sensitive spots inside you that you didn’t even know you had.

A waterfall of moans and whines rip from your throat as he moves faster, your higher pitched pathetic sounds a stark contrast to his deep guttural grunts. His hand is off the back of your neck now, instead finding a place at the side of your face as he keeps you pinned to the floor. It’s so big compared to your head that it spans the entirety of it, thumb hooking just under the edge of your jaw while his fingers curl around the top of your head as he holds you down.

Your thighs shake underneath you as he pounds into you, thick cock so far inside you that you know there has to be a bulge in your belly. There is, you can feel it. The way the head of his cock pushes against your lower abdomen roughly with each thrust and you know that if you could move your hands from the death grip press they have on the tile, you could feel it disappear and reappear under your palm.

He adjusts behind you, both feet planted on the ground as he crouches behind you to try to push in deeper. Pleasure soaks into your brain as you subconsciously push back against him, pussy clenching and squeezing around him trying to suck him in.

“N-Neteyam,” And you have more to say, you do. But you can’t form thoughts anymore. Nothing else will come out other than little punched out breathless gasps.

It takes you a long time to realize that he’s speaking, and even longer for your fucked up and fucked out raddled brain to register what he’s saying. It’s not normal sentences, it’s not even English. His words are still animalistic, growled through gritted teeth as he spits out broken Na’vi between his groans of pleasure. You grew up with the language, but you’re so distracted, so overwhelmed by him and the cock inside you that your brain can’t seem to latch on to what he’s saying.

You think you hear the word for ‘whore’, maybe ‘take it’, something ‘baby’ but you can’t be sure.

And then he’s leaning forward, body curving overtop yours as he covers you completely. It’s only then you feel what you’ve been too distracted to notice. The thick knot at the base of his cock, fully engorged now as it prods at your entrance.

Your hands finally leave their place pressed against the floor as you throw them behind you in newfound panic. One hand pushes against his abdomen as best as it can, trying to slow his thrusts while the other grabs at his wrist in an effort to pull his hand away from your face. The hand on his abdomen doesn’t do anything to slow his relentless pace, but the hand on the side of your head moves to tangle in your hair, gripping it in his fist close to your scalp just hard enough to burn a little as he yanks your head back.

You gasp at the sharp sting and your gasp quickly turns into a whimper as his knot presses tighter against your soaking hole. He’s unforgiving as he digs it against you, holding your hair tight and forcing your back to arch as you stretch even further around it. You’re too wet, pussy too wet and almost greedy and it takes him in, determined despite the obscene size of the engorged ball of tissue.

“Please!” You squeal. Please stop. Please more. “Neteyam, fuck!”

Your eyes roll back into your head when the knot slips inside you, sheathing itself within your heat with another solid push of Neteyam’s hips against your ass. His cock hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars, your vision whiting out and there feels like there’s cotton in your ears as you cum around him, squeezing him tightly as you soak his length in your juices. Your breath catches in your lungs when you feel his cock pulse inside you, twitching and feeling like it’s expanding even bigger as his own orgasm hits him.

He holds you close, keeping you pinned and still underneath him with the savage hand in your hair and the firm grip he has on your hip - fierce and unmoving as if to keep you from running away.

As if you even could with the knot locked inside you.

His growl of pleasure reverberates off the walls as he paints yours. Long, thick ropes of release coating your insides and it's so much, so so much that you feel like you can’t fit anymore. Like if he cums anymore, you’ll burst. The knot is still lodged inside you, locked in and refusing to let you free, but there’s no space left inside you, no space, and you feel the excess cum seep out of your hole from around his knot to trail down the insides of your thighs.

You don’t remember blacking out, and you’re not sure when Neteyam was able to pull free from you or when he passed out next to you either. But when you wake up next, it’s to voices.

“Oh my gosh!”

“Y/N!”

“What the fuck happened?”

The bright florescent lights of the lab are blinding when you try to open your eyes. Exhaustion seeps from every pore of your body and fuck, you feel so sore.

Norm’s shocked face is looking down at you when your eyes finally adjust to the light, Max and a few of the other scientists are behind him, faces an equal mixture of shock and horror as they stare at you with wide eyes.

It takes you a moment to remember what happened - why you’re here, waking up on the cold floor of the lab. Naked. You scramble up, hands clutching at your chest as you desperately try to cover yourself. A deep groan to your right steals your attention from your group of onlookers, and your eyes fall on Neteyam, just waking up from his own sleep.

His eyes are back to their normal gold as they open, groggy at first and then alert in a heartbeat as it registers where he is. He’s up in a crouch in an instant, looking ready to fight but not really sure what he’s supposed to be fighting. Those golden eyes catch on the group, confusion twisting on his face and you can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to figure out what’s going on.

Then his eyes meet yours, taking in your torn clothes and near nakedness, and you sit in horror as it clicks for him what must have happened.

And you watch as the horror in your eyes becomes mirrored in his.

**Special thanks to @quicktosimp and @itchaboi-itchyboy for the prompt!

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#𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✎#AvatarSurviveTheNight #neteyam smut #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam x human reader smut #tw: noncon #tw: non con #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent

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multi-fan-dom-madness · 1 year ago

Note

hi there!!! I love all these kiss prompts floating about. may I please request

a kiss to prove a point with Crosshair? 💙💙

Sev, dearest!! thank you so much for this ask <3 it got away from me (as these always do) and it's a little lot filthier than I intended lol enjoy!

Bet

Summary: Crosshair makes you a bet, and you can't say no.

Warnings: 18+ minors scram; tbb!Crosshair x f!reader; Cross being a smug bastard, oral (f receiving)

Word Count: 1k

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have ever taken this bet. Crosshair has more patience than anyone you’ve met in your entire life—a byproduct of his training, of his position as a scout and sniper. And he’s the most stubborn nerfherder in the galaxy, to boot. Maybe that’s why you like him so much.

When he’d propositioned you last night, several drinks in, feet propped up on one of the Marauder’s data centers, you’d rolled your eyes. Sure, the lingering looks you trailed over his form when you thought he wasn’t looking and the butterflies in your stomach when he included you in the squad’s inside jokes were nice, but you know better. He’s not a man of commitment. But he had such a smug look on his face last night, and you just had to prove him wrong.

“Bet I can make you cum in less than five minutes.”

You’d choked on your drink, Hunter and Tech laughing at the outraged look on your face as Wrecker thumped your back.

“And why in the everloving Force would I take that bet?”

Crosshair had shrugged, thin, capable fingers twirling his glass. “Your loss.”

“What do I win if I don’t cum that fast?” you’d said, eyes narrowed.

“My respect,” he quipped. “But don’t worry, that won’t happen.”

“Bet.”

So here you are, sober once more, the Marauder parked on some Mid Rim planet far enough from civilization to not be noticed. The others vacated the ship a bit ago, leaving you and Crosshair to figure out the rules of this stupid little wager. You’ve agreed that the timer won’t start until he touches you, and it stops when you start to orgasm. Stripping, you settle into one of the data center seats without embarrassment, legs draped open.

Raising an expectant eyebrow at him, you smirk at the way he shifts his codpiece. “Not too late to back out of this, Cross.”

“No chance in hell, doll.”

He lowers himself to his knees before you, the plastoid armor clanking against the durasteel deck. Face remaining impassive, you watch as his darkening gaze trails over your bare center. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. Something in you shudders, something needy and primal.

Pursing his lips, you nearly hold your breath in anticipation of his touch on you. Instead, he blows a stream of cold air over your heated center.

You groan, pleasure tingling up your spine at the sensation. “Th-That’s cheating.”

The grin he shoots you is self-satisfied, and entirely too hot. “If you wanted better rules, you shoulda asked for ’em, doll.”

You bite back the scathing fuck you that dances on the tip of your tongue, not wanting him to take that as a form of begging. Leveling him with a hard glare, you do your best to ignore the way that your body has already begun to react to him, despite the fact that he’s still fully clothed and hasn’t touched you at all.

Cross smirks like he knows what you’re refraining from saying. “You really have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?”

“If you don’t karking hold up your end of this bet, I’m going to—oh.” A heady groan pulls from your chest as he suddenly shifts forward and licks a flat stripe up your pussy. You have just enough wherewithal to smack the timer button on the computer. “Fuck, Crosshair!”

He hums, peering up at you from under his eyelashes, as he simply continues to lave his tongue against you. Hot pleasure bleeds into your veins. Kark, he looks good between your thighs like this. Scooting forward in the seat a bit, you reach down to tangle your fingers in his short silver hair, pressing his mouth more firmly against your cunt. Cross groans, the noise vibrating up your core in a way that has your hips jerking.

“S-stars,” you pant. A glance reveals he’s still got four and a half minutes left. “W-Where did you learn—?”

“HoloNet,” he grunts, pulling back from your now-dampening folds just enough to answer you. Then he dives back in, dragging the tip of his nose through your slick. His lips seal around your clit as he gently flicks his tongue over the bundle of nerves. Your toes curl as you thud your head back, moaning unabashedly.

It almost surprises you how fast he winds you up—almost. But you know how sharp his eyes are; he drinks in every minute twitch of your body, every tiny hitch in your breathing, every spasm of your fingers in his hair. All of your reactions add fuel to his fire. The louder you moan, the more insistent he becomes, eating your pussy for all he’s worth.

The timer reaches thirty seconds remaining and you can feel yourself approaching the edge of bliss rapidly. Your orgasm builds within you, pressure growing steadily higher in your throbbing cunt as Crosshair continues to suckle at your clit.

Fifteen seconds. Your teeth are probably going to leave indents where they bite into your lower lip.

Ten seconds. You squeeze your eyes shut, praying you can hold out just another ten karking seconds. But his mouth feels so good on your pussy, and you’re right there. And when you realize that the soft skin-on-skin sound you’re hearing his Cross jerking his cock, a wail claws out of your chest.

Five seconds. Cross grins against your slick folds, never letting up his ministrations.

One second. You cum with a broken scream.

Molten pleasure floods your system, vision whiting out for a moment as the pressure releases all at once. Crosshair continues to eat you out through the entire thing, drawing out your pleasure for far longer than you’re used to. You push with weak hands on his forehead until he pulls off you with a wet pop!

It’s all you can do to remain in place, chest heaving with every breath. Cross stands and, not bothering to wipe your juices from his face, leans over you. He captures your mouth in a searing kiss. Swiping his tongue over your bottom lip, he tilts your head and licks into your mouth when you open up to him. You moan, the taste of yourself exploding over your tongue.

All too soon, he pulls back. You whine softly, chasing his mouth.

He smirks at you, eyes alight with victory and lust. “I win.”

You’ve never been more happy to lose a bet in your life.

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#crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x f!reader #rhiwrites #rhiplies #bet #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader

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