He’s fine with almost anything really, but he’s not a big fan of hurting you. BDSM might not suit his taste that much. Love sucking your nipple even you don’t have milk, he’s just like your soft skin. Will eat you like a starving animal, prepared to be squirt by his tongue. The thought of putting baby in your belly alone made him hard. And getting to do it? He might ascended while pumping you.
Harlequin: role play, exhibition, outdoor.
He’s loveee performing and good acting. Wanna be princess being kidnapped unwillingly? Sure! Just hands him the script. This man likes walking shirtless around you or naked sometimes, and if you cover your eyes because you shy. He’ll like it even more. The house might get boring at times so doing it in a car, quiet corner or behind the brushes was a great idea. The thrill never failed to make his heart race.
Jester: dirty talk, bondage, cock warming.
It’s obvious he’s like dirty talk with a slightly degrading. Making you turn on by word amuses him. Hand cuffs, rope, long ribbons, etc. it’s entertaining seeing you struggle to move or being helpless. Sometimes, a quiet and simple reading time with you sitting on his lab to warm his cock is great. So stop move any further if you wish for a peaceful evening.
Ticket Taker: dry humming, handjob, praise kink.
Feeling everything while only frabic layer apart is arousing. He will dress you pretty, so he could have fun with his doll (you). Love fingering you and love having you stroking his cock, doing it at the same time will make him cum faster. Lastly, a surprising one. He does love being praised a lot. Tell him how good he did today, how his actions were so admirable and see him melt.
Doctor: toys, aphrodisiacs, overstimulation.
He’s a scientist and he’s love experiment, toy is a fun thing to play with. So many kind, so many options. How about we try this one today? This new substance cause some side effect he wants to learn more, could you help him out? Oh, a joy from seeing you losing your mind with his actions is beyond a pleasure, how far could push you? Wanna set a new record?
Tried my hand at a tiny comic, I hope yall like it ^^
Some lines are heavily inspired by (basically plucked from) the game and AMAs.
POV: Things don’t sit well with you after your visit at the circus, so you decided to tell Pierrot that perhaps you should part ways while you're ahead. Don't worry, he takes it well ^^
CW: Dub/Non-Con, Drugging, a reference to some Somno stuff at the end
Rating: 18+
Word Count: 3.4k
Summary: This is just porn with like zero plot beyond you eating his drugged cake and it all goes fantastically downhill from there.
Notes: i went fuckin feral in this one lads-- just pure raw heat lmao im not fuckin well over this.. man? but please enjoy!!!
AO3 Link
The spongey softness of syrup moistened cake breaking over your tongue into micro crumbles was the last thing you could remember clearly. Well, that and the way Pierrot’s grin stayed wide on his features as the reflection of them flickered in the chocolate glaze. How his gaze seemed to be melting into pure bliss before you even finished the first bite made damning heat crawl into your chest as he slowly closed some distance between you. You couldn’t tell if the cake was stale or just made with cheap ingredients with the wash of an oddly medicinal aftertaste being left to bloom on your palate.
He caught the plate as your grip loosened to let it slip from your fingers while the lights around you slowly began to glow like heaven’s light to frame him towering over you, “Are you.. feeling alright, my dear~?”
Every passing moment beyond that drifted into the next like a dream kissed by the haze of desire, your weight finding the cushion of him in a smothering embrace. Scooping your frame into the cradle of his arms as if he were stealing a priceless treasure, you couldn’t have given protest even if you wanted to as everything around you turned to molasses. The glow of Edison bulbs and vintage glass carnival lights blended into one another, forcing you to bury your face into the soft of fabrics draping his chest. Finding comfort in the silks and velvet trims of his motley, the swirling scent of sweet fried confections and lingering kiss of musky incense imbued into the very fibers of the cloth felt just as intoxicating as whatever was burning under your skin.
You could tell he was trying to keep his voice undetectable, “I know I promised.. I wouldn’t do this again, but.. since you’re already mine.. I figured one more time couldn’t hurt~” He breathed, nuzzling his face into the side of yours with the world only acting as a passing smudge in your vision against the clarity of him, “You were so perfect last time.. it was too soon then, but now..? There’s no way I could pass this up a second time.”
He was so warm, his skin soft, his breath tickling, all while you drifted deeper into the tingling warmth rolling through you, “Pierrot..”
“Yes, my love~?”
“I feel.. hot..”
Ushering you into the silken nest of his pillows and blankets as he helped you peel yourself from the prison of your clothes, your skin burned with the tingle of oversensitivity that came next in prickling waves. His touch drank you in like his hands had lived their life in a drought of sensation, addicted to the way your lips looked with the shape of his name on them. You were burning even through the shield of his gloves; ripping them from his hands, he let his bare caress fall upon the plush of your skin like he was handling porcelain. Watching the way your flesh gave way to the pressure of his grip in the hiking of your thighs around his waist, the only thing circling his mind was what a dream you looked like completely helpless under him.
Unable to keep himself back a second longer, your head was caged in his grasp while his tongue found its home wrapped around yours in something that less resembled a kiss and more of a hostile takeover of your breath. Trying to have some semblance of participation in the destruction of your better judgment, you sucked against the slippery muscle you’d let in, earning a low groan and fluttering of his eyes to follow. You had made out with some people in your life, but no one had ever felt as good as he did whenever he ached for the taste of you. Floating in the realm between fogged consciousness and chemical dreams like this made his obsession infectious, any pull from him feeling like a tiny betrayal to the primal need strangling your mind.
“Pierrot..”
He would never tire of hearing the way you called his name like a prayer, gentle and mewling as if you were lost without him. Not once did he look from you as he sat on his knees and pulled at the tie of his ruffles behind his neck. Watching him disrobe in any way felt like a ritual too intimate to witness as he shed the facade he kept together so well. Another careful pull at the securely laced bow still hidden beneath the capelet at the top of his bodice gave in such a way, to your doubled vision it looked as if they were dangling tassels.
Smothering you into the mattress was quickly becoming his favorite pastime as you found yourself being delightfully squeezed by the press of him returning to the possession of your kiss. A smooth roll of hips came next as he kept a mind-meltingly slow pace with the return of his tongue making itself at home in the way you tasted. Eventually, his mouth drifted from the swell of your lips to the tender virginity of your healed neck. The shiver he earned from you when his maw grazed the tissue paper fragility of your skin was enough to gain another satisfied moan and deep hip roll from him.
“I’m going to bite you again.. like last time.. but.. more~” He sighed into the cradle of your neck, “Is that alright, my dear~?” His tone nearly singing-songy as he sounded like a wild animal rattling zoo bars.
Hardly a single thought could be made from you as you answered in a drawl, “Uuh–huhh..”
There was no time for a second guess before you felt a swift pinch that diffused into erogenous pleasure, your fingers gnarling into the fabric protecting his back. It felt as if someone was slowly pouring warm milk over your shoulder as you bled out into the catch of his mouth eagerly lapping at it like a last meal. A shift above you came before the next pinch and wave of warmth feeding into the hunger he clearly wouldn’t be taming tonight.
Murmuring against the new wound he was nursing like his favorite candy, he seemed like he had already found his way into heaven via the ichor of your vulnerability, “You taste.. divine, my love..” Another heavy pass off his tongue swept over your broken flesh, “I promise.. I’ll be careful.. but you’ll have to forgive me if I get a little rough.. I just.. can’t help myself around you– not when you taste like you were made for me~”
The sink of teeth became more akin to penetrating overripe fruit in bursting gushes as each bite felt like the first, leaving you in the lace collar of your own life from the destruction he left in his wake. Eager as ever he let himself become a mess of himself as the smear of your blood painted itself tellingly across his face.
Frenzied greed got the better of him as his voice rasped in uneven breaths, “Tell me.. you want me.. that you need me, as badly as I need you.. my dearest, my love, my everything~”
Was this even real? Every second of this brushed against every little hidden fantasy you’d considered of him since the first time you laid eyes on him play by play. Disassociated from anything else but the way he clung to you, you drifted into the lush high of whatever had left that weird taste in your mouth as your blood stained his teeth.
Real or not, the answer was painfully simple to you, giving back to him, “I.. want you.. need you.. Pierrot..”, in a slur that you couldn’t detect off your own lips but he could pin easily.
Another blur of moments strung together in how you felt the meaty weight of him resting against your stomach before dipping into the spill of liquid silk dripping from you. Giving you a fullness that couldn’t keep a wanton moan from breaking the whispering silence he’d cultivated for you, your features warping into a heavy pant with just how much of him there was to take.
“Is it.. too big, my love~?” Was he teasing?
Answering him with a lust clouded stare and a fiery heat kissing your cheeks, you shook your head, falling side to side in a sloppy reassurance.
Delighted by your response, he purred back, “Perfect~ You’re perfect for me~ Are you going to keep being perfect.. and take it all for me~?”
You gave him another drug weighted nod and received a hissed excitement, “Good girl..”
You could see the way his eyes jumped back and forth from a heated stare to where his length sheltered in the squeeze of your warmth, to the way your face seemed to melt into a plea for more. Letting himself soften and rest himself against you, the first full sink of him came with a firm, greedy little swirl of his hips as if to revel in the prize being finally enjoyed. Savored.
He soon found his pace in slow, amusingly short pulls, before returning in desperate grinding pushes. Not having taken off really any of his clothes in his eagerness beyond his ruff and the split in his pants to free the length of his cock, the rhythmic jingle of his bells filled the dead air around you to be met in chorus with the clutch of you around him joining in soaked harmony. Some part of your mind whispered on if maybe that was on purpose, a punishment, or maybe, pleasure for the walls that always seemed to listen.
“Pie–Pierrot~” Sighing his name as if it alone was a love note, the careful, yet barely restrained rolling sink of his hips into yours made him shudder in your slick hold.
Nuzzling his face into the soft of your neck with a heavy swiping lick from collar to jaw, the word “Again~” dripped off his tongue in a pure ichor of sticky urgent lust, “Please, again~ My name has never sounded more lovely than it does falling from your lips like this..”
Seeing the way he nearly came undone from just the simple call of his name made your mind sink deeper into the dizzying fire of whatever he put in that damn cake as your brow knitted up together in desire, “Pierrot~ Ooh Pierrot~!”
Your legs relaxed wider in unyielding access to his hunger to let him eagerly tip your hips higher. Taking advantage of the new depth, his pace quickened with a frantic neediness that made your head spin in a cloud of pliancy. Licking back against his tongue still holding a monopoly over your mouth, the whine that left him was dripping in the excess of pleasure as he breathed, “You wanted this~ I think you wanted this.. as badly as I did~”
Eyes threatening to stay permanently fixed to the heavens with how far they were rolled back, you could only mumble, “I-did– I-I did~!”
“You were already sooo wet you know~ were you.. thinking of me too~?” He cooed, his thumbs brushing your nipples in affectionate swirls.
“I was,” You gushed honestly, simply, with the wash of your high taking away any last inhibitions keeping your tongue shy, “I.. like.. how big you are.. how-you watch me.. keep me safe..”
You could’ve sworn he was already midway filling you like a cream pastry by the way his body jolted at the thought, but instead his hands slipped up your chest and hovered at the base of your throat before snuggly capturing it as his mind fried into a one-track thought to claim.
“Do you trust me, my love~?” The familiar call of his pet name for you sounded deranged compared to its usual cadence.
Giving back a slight nod, you offered back breathlessly, “I-I– do~”
White hot giddiness took over whatever sense was left in his brain, his hold on your throat tightening fractionally as the tacky grip of drying blood smeared onto his palms, “You’re mine– you’ll be mine forever– I'll keep you safe– keep you mine– no one else’s– mine– mmm.. mine.. mine-mine-mine–” Punctuating his spiral with a crashing kiss into your lips with a need that promised to have you feeling the press for weeks to come.
Possessed by the feeling of finally having you all to himself, his pace stayed quick, heavy, and deep, putting every last ounce of his effort into indulging in every gasping choked cry and moan that graced the limited safety of his tent, “Ah-hah– Pi-pierro–ot– I-I– f-f-fuck– love you– love-you– haa love– you~”
“So perfect–!! Ouuh you said it first this time– you said it first–! I love you too~!” He was practically babbling as his face took shelter in your neck once more, “I-love-you-I-love-you-I-love-you–Say it again– Please–” Meeting you with yet another firm puncture into the peachy tenderness of your flesh.
Pain was a thing of the past to you by now as you just moaned back, “Ougghh– I-love-youu–”
“Again~” His tempo somehow quickened.
“Hah-fuck– love-you~ you’re gonna– break me–”
Without missing a beat and blazing hearts in his eyes he easily answered back, “Then I’ll put you.. back together again~ and again~ and again~”
Hilting himself flush to your hips, the cry that left you in the way the head of his cock punished the sucking caress of your cervix teasing him to try and push further left him gasping in delirium, “Ouhh you love it too, my lady~! I know you do~! Y-you're kissing me from the inside~! You’re practically pulling me in~! Is that what you want~? You want me.. deeper..?”
You couldn’t place what possessed you to cry out, “Yes!! Deeper!! Deeper-deeper-deeper– please-please-please– Pierrot– I-I’m cumming– I’m-cumminggg~!!” but he wasted no time giving you exactly what you asked for as he met your demands in a pace that could’ve knocked the wind from you.
Nearly whining at the fever of lust keeping you both in a state of unmatched ecstasy, he couldn’t seem to stop babbling in affectionate bursts, “Oooh~ Is that what did it for you darling~? You like it deep– you like me deep– you’re so hot inside– I can feel your heart pounding~!”
Some part of your mind had to wonder if he was trying to redefine and stake claim to the title of “beast with two backs”, before he knocked even that thought clean from you in the overwhelming swallow of his desire. Reaching up for him, your arms easily found their place around the strength of his shoulders with the rattling tune of his bells and the smacking kiss of your cunt eagerly welcoming him home over and over.
“Go on, scream for me.. just this once, I want to hear everything~ All for me~ I’ve got you~ Just let it all go~” Seeing the way your body submitted and your voice chimed in high cries, his liquid gaze fixed on the way your face twisted framed in the palms of his hands, “You’re so.. good for me~ Ouuhh good girl– my good girl– my.. mine.. mine-mine-mine–”
Before you could even finish the soul rattling that was washing over you, the sudden unusually hot fill of his own unraveling, sighing and whining, “You’re.. holding on so tight.. ooouhh.. my love~ You’re milking me..”
Pump after pump his mouth hung open in a heavy pant as his tongue showed off how gorgeous strawberry jam could look drizzled over lemons. Still, as his eyes flickered between your face and the heat catching the flood of him, you couldn’t help but notice the sparkle of pure affectionate desire he had for you that betrayed his display of devouring obsession he’d unleashed before.
Reluctant to leave any distance between you, he sat up only enough to tug the golden cording keeping his tunic sealed loose enough to let the fabric drip from his frame in an easy shimmy off his shoulders. The jingle of him untying the fastenings of the mantle still hanging over his bare shoulders sang in your mind like angelic gifts to soften the breath of the moment. A softly delirious huff of a chuckle left you as you admired the sculpt of his body while still sporting the cover of his hood with the sink of his weight trapping you back into the mattress as if it were just a part of him.
To snap your drifting mind back to the focus of him, he gave a firm buck against you, keeping himself sheathed in soft rolling bumps, “You took me so well~ Still.. taking me so well.. even after all that.. you’re making it hard.. impossible, even.. for me to stop.. you know~?” He hummed, sliding the smooth of his tongue over the night’s wounds still glimmering with the shine of fresh rubies spilling across your chest.
“Ooh.. look at you.. are your arms getting too heavy..? Your legs..?” He cooed, securing your drooping form around his waist, “Don't worry.. you can rest now.. but.. if I may, my dearest– Is it okay.. if I keep going.. for a little longer~? I’ll be gentle now.. I promise, my love~”
There wasn’t too much you could honestly say or do back as the darkness that had been creeping in your vision seemed to win the war as all you could muster was a soft, “Mm-hmm.. Pier.. rot..”
“Ooh.. you’re so good for me.. only me.. mine..” It seemed like whatever frenzy had his mind in madness had calmed with the assurance that you were nothing but wholly and totally his, pleading in whimpering gasps, “Please.. be good and let me keep you.. I'll protect you from everyone.. keep you all to myself.. just don't make me stop.. I don't want this to end..”
The low richness of his tone coated your mind in the syrup of his affection as the last thing he whispered fully settled you into the safety of his grasp, “Love you.. forever.. always.. only.. mine.”
★
Warming peanut oil and spinning sugar were the first things you could recognize beyond the fog still casting a shadow over your senses. Following that, came the jailing embrace of your fool that still kept you close to the centering warmth of his core, the tackiness of your connection proving how long he had kept you like that. Any attempt to try and remember anything that happened that led you to this point felt like meeting a brick wall. Only fractured pieces of events really came together, as you buried your face back into Pierrot’s chest.
There was a cake.. maybe? If nothing else, you remembered the way he kept you in his arms against the antique wash of rainbow carnival lights. And how he looked at you like he would tear down the stars one by one should they displease you. And.. being full. Really full.
“Are you awake, my love?”
“Mm..”
“Ah~ I was wondering when you would join me again~ I missed you while you slept~”
“Weren’t.. you sleeping..?” You mumbled, still keeping your face in the safety of his chest.
“.. yeah. For some of it~ But you were out for quite a while.. I was starting to worry.. I fear I may have given you maybe one too many bites in my excitement~”
Bites?
Leaning back from him a bit, your hand reached to let the brush of your fingerprints catch on new scabs littering the circumference of your collarbone, “Pierrot!” You snapped in a whispered mix of playfulness and honest concern for his excess.
Feeling him jump slightly at your sudden outburst, he quickly tried to ease you by soothing, “I would never do anything that would harm you.. or take you away from me– I may have.. gotten a little carried away, but it’s only because I couldn’t help myself with you– you were so vulnerable and wanting– please forgive me darling, I promise now that you’re awake.. I’ll get whatever you need~ Water, snacks, more rest– Please.. just let me take care of you..”
A dramatic sigh left you in a tease as you let yourself fall back into the protective cage of his embrace, “We’ll.. worry about that later..”
Delight pumped through him as you nested in against him once more, closing his arms around you tight and kissing your forehead, “Yes my love.. let me keep you safe while you rest.. I'm here.. always..”
𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡ Ever since you met Neteyam in the forest, you always feel a pair of eyes watching you all the time.
contain: aged up!neteyam x fem!omaticaya!reader, stalker neteyam, smut, oral (f&m receiving), foreplay (f&m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, doggy style(?), love confession ending.
Enjoy!
The starry night paints the sky just as it wakes up your freckles to glow in the dark. The sound of drizzle fills your ears as you walk through the mud on your feet, leaving a trail of your footprints, ignoring the chance of someone following you behind.
You relish every drip of water running through your body, the way it feels cold soothe you. Every Loreyu retracts into the ground right away as you walk and somehow it's amusing you, you touch every flora that you could reach.
All the serenity crashes down as a viperwolf jumps before you, you curse under your breathe while you sprint away from it. Unfortunately, another viperwolf proceeds infront of you, they are invading your space front and back.
You freeze in place, well there's nothing you could do at this point, even screaming won't helping you either in the middle of the drizzle that could muffle your voice. At that moment you thought you would gone in a second, then an arrow pierces on one of the viperwolf's feet, making it hiss at you before both of them run away.
"Only a skxawng wander around alone at night," he chimes in while appearing himself from behind a tree. "Sorry, really. But, thanks a lot for saving me," you smile briefly at you. "Just be careful and don't wander around by yourself." He commands.
"Yeah, right, duly noted, sir,"
"It's Neteyam." He answers sternly, leaning back against a tree, crossing his arms, his gaze fixated on you.
"Okay, Neteyam, so... May i ask how you found me here? while under attack by those viperwolves." You ask while walking to him. "I was on patrol, i coincidentally found you here, dummy," you roll your eyes at his answer, feeling irritated.
He cackles at your reaction, that's endearing for him.
"Let me walk you home," he offers.
"No need, thanks."
"I don't take no for an answer." He says as he walks forward, make you follow him whether you want to or not.
They walk in silence, only stomps on the mud fills the atmosphere. He glances at you a few times, making sure you stay safe and sound. The silence somehow comforts for both of them as they walk.
"I owe much, Neteyam."
"Don't mention it, just make sure you are safe, don't be so stupid like earlier." He assures you, giving you a brief side hug with his shoulder wraps your shoulders.
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔
After that incident, you notice how Neteyam always appear around your radar while you were taking care of your ikran or strolling around with your friends.
How his gaze lingered on you while he chats with others, while he teaches the youngers how to bow an animal correctly.
How Neteyam could easily find you in a crowd, his eyes searched for a while then follow on you wherever you go.
Or how Neteyam looked instantly irritated and clenched his jaw as he found you having a short conversation with another males.
Not to forget that few of your friends mention that he would always looking for you, seems concern if he hasn't found you among the crowd yet.
Neteyam is unpredictable for you, you cannot know what is he trying to interpret with those silence signals, you were too clueless to even notice— dumb in a short way.
At some point, Neteyam shows his interests with those gaze and how he tries to close to you possibly, but sometimes, he just glances at you and not gain any courage to make the first move.
One time, you decide to greet him, a smile draws on your face. "kaltxì, Neteyam." Then he just waves his hand and smile briefly to you, before he goes back to do his business. What an expected reaction of him.
It seems like the closer you get the more he pushes, you don't even know what to do with him. But when you let him out of your mind, he has something to appear in your mind again and again.
Ever since that incident, you become rarely wandering around by yourself again, keeping his words to your mind permanently. But habit always comes back, you can't hold your feet down from strolling around by yourself.
And when you did, you can't shake the feelings of someone's eyes following wherever you go in the silence day. This all happened after that night Neteyam saved you, coincidence?
As you walk, you could hear a footstep nearby, maybe it was some others trying to practice themselves in the middle of a silence forest.
But your opinion breaks apart as you heard the footstep came closer, you alert yourself, hand instinctively behind you to snatch your knife if someone jumps onto you. You scan around you, yet you find nothing, then the footstep was gone.
To prevent yourself getting killed, again. You decided to stop your exploring halfway and walk back home.
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔
And here again with your habit, you just take a walk and go deeper into the forest. You found a pond, beautiful, reflecting the sunbeam from above, full with plants and lotus around the edge.
You sit on the edge of the pond, dipping your legs into it, soothing the cramp due to how long you walked to get there. You watch as some fish swimming around or just lazily sitting on the corner.
Walking around by yourself is not only a habit but a way to find tranquil and peace without any distraction for you. And found an untouched place was a reward for you.
You stare at your reflection in the water, smiling at it. You splash the water with your hand, playing it, doing something to amuse yourself.
Then, you felt a presence appear behind you, you knew it, it was too real. You realize someone was behind you as you see from the reflection, but you couldn't quite see who it was.
You squint your eyes, trying to figure out who it is, your hand already holding your knife just in case, gripping it tightly as you ready to lung forward for whoever it is.
"I told you to not wander alone like a skxawng, didn't i?" You squeal at the sound of it, your body jolts in surprise. "Neteyam! You almost give me a heart attack!" You blurted with a hint of annoyance in your tone.
"I will kick your ass if you do that ever again, Neteyam."
"But you won't if you keep your stupid ass sitting in your marui," he replies at the same time when he sits beside you, closing the distance between both of you, he purposely let his shoulder touches yours. "I told you to not wander alone, didn't i?" He flicks your forehead in teasing manner that leads you pouting at him.
"I do not live under someone's command," you bicker, he just cackles and shakes his head as his responses. "You put yourself in danger, you know that? You're the most stubborn evenge i have ever met," he claimed while ruffling your hair, you slap his hand away and hiss at him.
"It's cute." He mutters, staring at you with his teeth smile and his big eyes that attract every females in the forest. "... Shut up, skxawng," you turn your head away from him as you try to hide your flushed face, trying so hard not to smile, he found your demeanor amused him.
His hand rests on top of yours that makes your heart beats faster than you could ever have, his thumb strokes your knuckles. "it is rude to not look at someone you have conversation in," he reaches your chin and force you to face him, revealing your flushed face, he chuckles at it.
"There is nothing funny, Neteyam," you whine.
"But it's adorable for me," he stares at your face with amusement draws on his face, his thumb shifts upward and land on your bottom lips, running his thumb through your bottom lips, his gaze fills with hunger to devour your lips yet he holds himself back not to.
Slow but sure, his thumb pulls your lips down then he slids his thumb into your mouth, he groans at the feeling of your warmth, his cock starts to harden under his loincloth. He presses his thumb against your tongue, savour the way your tongue is wet and slick around his thumb, his mind fills with vivid image when you take his cock deep in your throat while staring at him begging for breathe and gagging at the feeling of his cock slams the back of your throat nonstop.
"Fuck..." He curses under his breathe, he circles his thumb on your tongue, trying to memorize of how good the texture feels for him. He couldn't stop picturing yourself taking and sucking his cock passionately with his cum dripping on your chin, and he grips your hair to give him new access to another angles just so he can fills your mouth with another rope of cum.
He closes his eyes as he fantasizes about using your mouth as his thing to pleasure him, his thumb still rubbing on your tongue. He wishes that he could push you against a tree and fucking your mouth with his cock until your mouth full of his cum.
His cock was hardened fully, visible through his loincloth, you glance at the bulge between his thighs, the size unbelievably huge for you, you thought. He slids his thumb deeper that hits your throat where no one ever touches, you gag at the feeling of it before he pulls his hand back from you all of the sudden and look at you with a hint of guilty.
"I- I should go now. I'm sorry, i left Lo'ak a little too long." He explains while he stands up, his breath deeper than usual, he jolts away before you could even say anything, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your arousal pooling between your thighs.
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔
Ever since that, you often visit that pond by yourself, hiding away from others only for clear your head. And hoping that maybe, maybe Neteyam will come and accompany your lonely soul.
You can't ignore the feeling from your body that aching his touch, the way his thumb touched your tongue lives in your mind. Your body reacts differently ever since he laid his hands on you, and you are wanting more of it, desperately.
You could still feel his eyes on you among the crowd, you knew it, your guts never wrong. But you didnt pay any attention to it, you only hope that he would confess what he was hiding all this time.
In this tranquility, you let yourself sink deep into lust because of him. With probability no one watching you, you get yourself off your tewng and flawkx, then leaning against a tree.
Doubt going through into your veins, but the needs between your thighs is undeniable. You take a deep breath before you start squeezing your tits with gentle, you shut your eyes instantly while savouring the way you touch yourself.
Your hands squeeze your tits harder as you push yourself out of comfort, a moan slips out of your lips. Your fingers find your nipples, rubbing at first until they hardened, then you begin pinching and tugging at them, they are completely steel against your fingers.
On the other side, a couple of eyes widened fills with shock, a mouth gaped with disbelief, while hiding behind a bush, not wanting to show their presence. Hearing moans you let out was making their knees weak.
They would never expect that following your steps would be a free ticket for them to watch you pleasuring yourself, without any disturbance waiting for them. And Neteyam chosen to be the one who could watch you get naked and letting yourself sink into your own lust.
Neteyam knew that following you was something that his dad— or probably everyone— will disagree, but his eyes always find you even when he didn't try. He can't stop himself of making sure you're secure from the moment he met you almost get killed by those viperwolves, and his ego fulfills with pride he doesn't want to admit he cares for you.
Stalking you was never an option that cross his mind, never, He is a nice man, he believes in it. It was all Lo'ak's fault when he joked with him and said that he should following you everywhere you go, and that was the beginning of how he started stalk you.
Neteyam curses at himself for couldn't taking his eyes off you, he knew that this is wrong but the way your plump tits caged beneath your fingers attracted him that he stays in place to watch you.
He watches as you spread your legs and let one of your hands feels how wet you are. His eyes pin to the way you lick your fingers then rubbing your clit with them, his heart goes thump with the same pulse as his cock pulsate underneath his tewng, begging to release from the small space.
You rub your clit faster until your toes curling, your juices drip from your pussy, coating your inner thighs. Your moan was filling the peace that you already ruined, at some moment, you couragely moan the name who was watching you, Neteyam.
He lets out a gasp, his ears perked up at the same time he heard that moan, he could feels his heart beating faster that it almost jumps out of his chest. He didnt know if he should feel blessed or... He definitely thanks to Eywa for this moment.
Without any further ado, he decides to walk out of the bush and approach you, his step was silent so that you won't notice his presence. He gets on his knees before you as your hands still working to fulfill your needs, and your mouth still moaning his name, how embarrassed for you.
"Needing some any helps, maybe?" His words fill your ears, your body stops working immediately, you opened your eyes and found him infront of you, his eyes was pinning on your pussy.
Surge of panic went through your veins, your hands lift off from your body, your thighs clamp together in an instant. Your instinct tells you to grab your clothes, but his hands grip to stop you from doing it.
"You look too pretty to put those back things on," he looks into your eyes, he gulps with nervousness while you on the other hand was panicking that he found you in this situation, naked and fantasizing him.
"Look, i know that what i did is wrong, but i can't seeing you in danger again. But i did not expect you... like this. I'm sorry, would you let me make it up to you, please?"
"I moaned your name, i.. i feel shame for it,"
"No, no, no. It's fine, i am fine with that, honestly, i am enjoying it," he admits.
He slowly parting your knees and leans closer to your mound, "May i?" he asks for permit, his hands caress your inner thighs in assuring manner.
"Yeah, be gentle please."
"Absolutely, ma lady, your wish is my command," he smiles. He dips his head between your thighs, sniffing your mound, pressing his nose against it, it smells heavenly for him.
He sticks out his tongue, tasting your already wet pussy to his taste bud, lapping on it. You watch him eating you out like it was his last meal, starving but he maintains to not overwhelm you.
His hands grips your thighs to keep your legs spread widely for him, he slurps your juices that come out nonstop of you, the way his tongue moves blowing your mind. His tongue going up to your swollen clit, circling his tongue, playing with it to make you writhe.
He flicks your clit with his tongue, your hands instinctively trying to push his head, you whine at the feeling of your clit played by him. But, he just gets deeper, pressing his face into you. His mouth sucks your clit hardly, stops, then flicks it, stops, then sucks harder then flicks faster, he rewinds it again and again until all you do was moaning his name.
You stutter his name, you feel your abdomen tightened that asking to release the tension. Your moan gets louder, his name was filling the atmosphere while he flicks your clit faster. You fist his hair as you feel yourself cum, you shut your eyes tightly and arch your back from the tree.
Neteyam pulled back and watch you cum with mesmerized, his cock throbbing hardly beneath the tewng. "You look gorgeous, baby," he praises.
While you come down from your high, you watch as Neteyam stands up and take off his tewng in a hurry. "I'm not going anywhere, relax," you soothe him. He threw his tewng onto the ground, let his cock sprang free, stands up proudly.
You run your hands through his thighs as you stare at his cock with awe, his cock twitches at the feeling softness of your hands. "Just touch me, baby, please," he pleas, your hands went to the base of his cock before you stroking him.
"Fuck, just like that," he moans when one of your hands stroke him, and the other squeezing his tip. His grips the tree infront of him, your softness against his hard cock making him weak on the knees. Your finger rubs his at the edge of his tip, he whimpers at it, while your other hand keeps stroking him with faster pace.
Then you pull your hands back, he sighes in disappointed at the feeling of lost your touches. Before he could complain, you stick out your tongue and lick from the base of his cock to his tip, he lets out a satisfied groan.
"Open your mouth wider, sweetheart," his hand reach your head and running his fingers through your hair as you sucking his cock. His hips thrust gently into your mouth, he moans your name and praising you.
He pulls your hair and thrusting into you deeper, you grip on his thighs as he hits the back of your throat. He is doing what he was fantasizing. The warmness of your mouth envelopes his cock, when you gag your throat squeezes his cock in the way he likes it.
He keeps thrusting into your mouth while moaning your name over and over again, he holds himself not to slam all the way into your throat in order not to hurting yourself. His thrusts were gentle and deep, you could feel his veins around your throat, his tip nudges at the back of your throat making you gag.
He was mesmerizing you for taking him so well, you look really pretty with his cock wraps around your mouth he thought. His hips snapped into you, chasing his orgasm, and you didn't pull back. Before he could cum in your mouth, he abruptly pulled back and cum outside your mouth, letting the cum sprawled all over your face, he panted.
"Sorry, let me wash that crap off your face," he pulls you onto your feet and dragging you to the edge of the pond, he sits you down then he washes your face off his cum. Wiping your face with the water gently, running his fingers across your face.
"You always so pretty in my eyes," he says out of nowhere while staring at your wet face, you give him a sweet smile that melts his entire body. He plants a kiss on your forehead, cupping your jaw as he stares at you with endearment in his eyes.
"Stop saying i'm pretty," you roll your eyes, trying to denial but your heart skips a beat hearing his words. "I could stare at you a million years if you let me," he adds then he gives you a peck, your face starts to flushed because of his words that affect you much.
"Turn around and bend over," he commands at the time you still in the seventh heaven.
"What?" You confused.
"Face the water and bend over before i make you,"
"Why?"
"Just do it already."
You obeyed his command, you shift to face the pond and bend over. He moves to get behind you, he could see your curve from behind, it's tempting him, he licks his lips as he stares at you like he will going to devour you.
He raises your hips up, then pull apart your legs, he stares at your pussy, his mind was everywhere and his heart beat races. He slaps your pussy that makes you gasp instantly, he spits on his fingers to make sure they slippery before going inside you.
"Neteyam!" You moan while he puts his fingers inside, curling his fingers then rubbing against your sweet spot. He presses his fingers on it in order to make you wet for him again, you grip at the edge of the pond, your knees were trying so hard to hold your hips.
He begins to pump his fingers in and out in slow manner, he groans at the feeling of your walls clenching around his fingers, so tight. He pulls his hand back before slam into you again and again, he wants you to tremble for him, and yes you are trembling in need for him.
His fingers left your pussy, leaving you aching for his touch, "why are you stopping? Do it again, Neteyam." You whine, he clicks his tongue at your impatient words.
He slams his cock into you, feeling the way your insides squeezing him, he begins thrusting his cock deep and fast. You let out a loud moan, your eyes rolling back, he sees you from the reflection in the water, seeing you weak was feeding his pride.
His hands hold your hips to hold you stay in place while he fucks you from behind, he keeps muttering how good your pussy feels. You could feel his cock stirs your insides, his cock streches your pussy in the way you enjoy, your knees were trembling at the feeling of it.
One of his hands moves to yank your hair back, hard but not hurt, just showing you he was the one who's in control. "Look at your reflection in the water, so goddamn hot," he slams his hips harder to mess with your mind.
You opened your eyes slowly and stare at your reflection, your hair is a mess, your saliva is dripping on your chin, your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure manner. "I look like a mess, i don't like it," you say between your moan, it was hard to think straight for you while he fucks you from behind.
"You look hot, it makes me hard."
He rolls his hips as he slows down the pace, preventing you from cumming, letting his tip touching your cervix that makes your toes curling. His hand leaves your hips just to land on your ass, he spanks you, entertain himself with the way your ass jiggles.
The more he spanks you, the louder you get for him, and he likes it, no, he loves it. His hand goes back to your hips, holding you steady while he begins to slams his hips again, this time he won't slow his pace again, he wanted to make you cum.
His slams getting harder and deeper, you lost count of how many times you scream his name. His cock getting harder than before, it was as hard as a steel, and he knew it was driving you begging for release.
He feels your walls milking him, clenching him tightly, you are cumming, you scream his name loudly, gripping at the edge of the pond until your fingers pale against it. He moans your name, grunting, he picks up his pace to chasing his orgasm.
He threw his head back when he feels his abdomen tightened, knowing the tension will release. His cock pulsating inside you, throbbing while getting ready to burst out his cum. At the last thrust, he went deep into you, his cock almost passing your cervix, he spills his cum deep inside you, you reached your peak for the second time with your knees tremble hardly.
He rolls his hips for a while to make sure his cum filling you completely, then he pulls out his softened cock. You could feel warmness spreading through your stomach, and some of his cum spills out of your pussy, he stares at it with pride.
He pants while watching you lay on your back, taking your breath deeply. "Did i go too hard? Did you get hurt, ma lady?" He checks on you, his words fill with concern, he lays on top of yours, placing his head on your chest, feeling the way your heart beats fast.
You wrap your arms around him and caressing his back, "I'm great, more than great, my man." He smiles at your words with the way you call him my man, both of your heart pounding in the same beat.
"Please stop giving me mixed signals, i know you like me, Neteyam."
"Is it too obvious?"
"My guts never wrong."
He sighes and pull back from your chest, shifts to get face to face with you. "I have so many feelings for you, but one thing that i know, i love you, i see you, pretty." He kisses your lips, pouring his love and longing in it before he pulls back abruptly, he fixes your messy hair, wiping your sweat off your forehead then he kisses on it.
.⊹˖ᯓ★
ACKK, i wrote this almost 3 days in a row (yes, im a loser, this isnt that long) hope u guys enjoy, because i enjoyed writing this :D my apology if i had any typo <33
ㅤ♕ 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 has been nothing but a hopeless romantic, living licentiously and relishing in how women fall at his feet—yet never seeming to find the perfect soulmate like he finds in books. He thought he'd yearn his life away until you appear; a writer he has employed to transcribe his spoken novels, because he couldn't be bothered to learn how to use the typewriter. You think he's insufferable—meanwhile he could not be more enamored by you. Being spoiled rotten all his life, Satoru is quite stunned that you could ever reject someone as great as him. Is it even possible to fall in love with such an arrogant idiot of a man?
wc. 6.7k
ㅤcontent────period piece (late 1800s—early 1900s), sfw, fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, unrequited love to requited love, heartbreak, multiple rejections, he's a persistent ass, one-sided pining, unrealized love, romantic tension, kissing/heated scenes, happy ending
ㅤpairing────prince!Gojo Satoru x writer!reader
ㅤseries masterlist
It was uncommon for you to fall in love.
Many times, specifically over morning breakfasts, your mother would gripe about your lack of lustre for romance. This extended into literature; you hated the romantic poets, and all the fairy tales they procured.
None of that fluff could persuade you into believing, let alone care for or pursue, the dream that she herself sought: true love.
You did fall in love—just not with men. Not typically. They were either too haughty, too humorless, too ugly, or in the worst case, all three plus more.
But you still loved many things.
For example?
Well... for example...
Ah, reading. Er, writing. And most specifically, your typewriter.
See, you knew, from a tender age, that love was less like it a romance novel and more like a horror novella—
Short, brutal... gory.
A kiss was as close as a sane person could come to cannibalism. Sex was a gross reminder of the fact we are clothed animals needing for flesh.
You concluded this after experiencing a few short-lived, rancid romantic affairs in your adolescence. Well, actually... just one.
That short-lived affair left you feeling, well, how can I put it?—like love is the most overrated thing in life.
Thus, you lost interest in it. Thus, you damned the romantic poets for selling you false ideas, for rendering you disillusioned with their idealism.
But your mother still believed in true love.
And she believed that it would find you: her last little bird in the nest.
ㅤ⚜
Mother clasped her hands in delight at the breakfast table, fawning over your new job position as a transcribe to the charmingly handsome blue-eyed Prince Gojo Satoru.
Your response to her delight was an upper lip curled in abject disgust.
“Mother, I am not wooing the prince—first reason being that he’s the prince, second being that he is really, actually, quite uncouth and—if I daresay... rude.” you finished with a perk of your brow.
You sipped at your orange juice all too smugly, and then your mother burst out.
“Nonsense. He’s a universal gentleman! His beauty is appreciated from here, all the way to France.” she proclaimed emphatically. “F’goodness sake, in an age of pruny old men, he’s the living Adonis!”
“I’ll admit he’s good-looking. But still, he’s rude; that cancels out all his other qualities.”
Mother waved a hand at you and rolled her eyes, “Handsome men are always rude because they know they can afford to be. I think you will be a bride by next spring. Oh, how happy I am! My littlest girl will be the best wed of all my children.”
You lowered your glass, prolonging your stare of disdain at your mother—who was glowing, ignorant to your expression.
“Have you ever considered for a moment your own daughter’s happiness?” grunted your father, appearing at the archway into the kitchen, waddling in.
“Not at all!” replied your mother sarcastically, spearing a small scone with a butter knife and ungraciously smearing butter into the slit. “I’ve only cared about her entire livelihood and future for my whole life!”
“My love, you’re being dramatic again.” he said, rudely.
Mother burst, “Dramatic! Maybe you should try give birth five times and see how you feel!”
“Eh, eh.” your father let out a gruff laugh. “Well, I never wanted five of them. One was more than enough.”
Lanky and yet slow as a clunky machine, your father made his way to the chair next to your mother and scooted it outwards to sit. Then, he grumbled as all old men do when they sit down, like the weight of being the favoured one in society is just so heavy a burden to bear. Must be hard, you thought, living in a world that licks between the cracks of your hairy ass.
“So then, do you think it will happen?” he directed at you.
“Absolutely. I’ll kill him by next spring.” you replied, stabbing into a scone, spreading strawberry jam into it, and jamming it into your mouth.
He let out a wheezing chuckle, “Ah, sounds good. Then we might be free from the Gojo reign at last.”
“I’ll ready the dagger.”
“—and ram it through his heart, make him yearn for a fine girl like you.” your mother smiled, and you momentarily closed your eyes in pain at her insufferableness.
“Now, now; don’t eat too much, you’ve got to stay in shape.” your mother stole your scone clean out your hand just as you prepared to take another bite, leaving you to linger after her with a truly miserable glare.
She binned the scone and then proceeded to get to her feet and tug out your chair from the table, shooshing you out like a rat out of the kitchen.
“Be early, not on-time; it will show your eagerness to be with him. Now, out with you. Out, out!”
She shooed you like this all the way to the front door of your manor, shoving at your back with a greater force than you would expect a small woman like her to have.
After tossing your coat over your shoulders, your mother proceeded to wring the heavy mahogany door open and practically kick your ass out the door into the much too cruel world of morning.
“Now remember; have manners, be graceful—” she began to list,
“—no yawning, no sighing.” you completed, misery lengthening your face. “Got it.”
“My girl, you won’t become a man’s obsession with a face like that. F’god’s sake, smile.”
So you tried to smile; one twitch at a time, twisting and contorting your muscles until what appeared on your lips could hardly be classified as a smile, rather, something like a dog baring its teeth.
You did not humor her. She slammed the door shut in your face.
When you turned your head to the right, you saw a slither of lacey white as your neighbour shut the blinds—privvy eyes acting as if they went unnoticed.
But you noticed.
You always noticed people’s eyes.
And they could never escape the vortex of yours.
ㅤ⚜
The carriage ride to the palace was long and bumpy.
Your breasts tremored, body swayed, but one thing about you remained fixed; your hands. You hardly moved them at all, never restlessly fiddled or wrung your hands like many people did.
No, you remained still; very still. Almost like a painting.
And that quality is the reason why you appear in so many paintings across the country; because you were the muse of many artists throughout your youth. With an arresting beauty, and natural stillness, many talented hands requested to paint you in various costumes and poses. Your mother always pushed you to be compliant in this flurry of requests, because they paid her handsomely to draw the portrait of her little girl.
But enough was enough at some point; by the middle of your adolescence, you threw a tantrum and, after breaking all tools of the young artist who proclaimed love for you and destroying his every painting of yourself, you then refused to be anybody’s muse ever again.
Now, emerging into your twenties with a bold and firm foot in the world, you hoped to re-establish yourself as a writer.
So that you did; but claiming fame brought with public scrutiny.
Because your father, and his forefathers, were already well-established writers. That is, you were not respected in the eyes of ‘real’ writers and ‘honest’ critics, for you were born into a privileged lineage that pushed you up into ranks which others earned through hard work.
Was that true?
Well... shut up. Just shut up, you.
Anyways, regardless of what the envious writers and snobbish critics said about your ‘dry’ prose, the prince reached out to you—like a tendril of opportunity.
At first, your eyes went starry. On your first carriage ride to the palace you were conjuring up wonderful dreams of your future. Beautifully rich, beautifully talented, and beautifully unstressed by men and their evil phalluses.
This was to be your highest paying job yet, but it was not the money that tickled you; having on your record that you were a notable scribe of the prince would surely shut up the loudmouths that scrutinized your work.
Now it was a month since then, many visits later revealed that the prince was a hopeless romantic idiot and you... well, you were unfortunately... his greatest desire.
He didn’t hide it very well. Maybe in the beginning he did, but by now he had grown a little more... crazed. You were just glad that he kept his hands to himself. At the very least, he denied himself to act upon such animalistic impulses. The most he did was ghost around where you sat and wrote, peering down at you with unashamed curiosity.
He stared. He always stared.
And much like the effect you had on others, you could never escape the vortex of his eyes.
Wheel hit stone. You swayed hard in the carriage.
Woodlands turned to flat plains turned to rows of cypress trees, and eventually you met the iron-wrought gates bearing the Gojo crest, inscribed in pure gold.
Your chest rose and fell as you heaved out a prepatory sigh, before being escorted into the castle.
ㅤ⚜
“I am here.” you announced after bobbing a brisk curtsy.
“So you are.” he turned, flashing you a smirk.
That smirk is the same one he’s been wearing since he met you, and now you’re convinced that he has no other expression to clothe his face with.
After having been escorted through the grandiose palace to the east wing, you met the prince in the study, in which all writing sessions happened.
You took your seat by the window and soon began, but of course not without answering his first set of unnecessary questions;
“Are you well?”
“Quite.” you replied curtly.
“I’m well myself.” he answered as if you had asked.
“Excellent.”
“And your family?”
“Very well, thank you.” you gritted.
“Good, good... I’m glad.”
He stiffened, nervously smoothed out his black waistcoat, inspired a deep breath into his broad chest, blinked at you a few times, then tucked his hands behind his back and began to stare.
You noticed. You pretended not to, but you always noticed.
Blue eyes followed your every move as prince Satoru curiously watched you prepare yourself; unsleeving your hand of its white gloves, setting them aside, heaving your typewriter from its baggage—with great difficulty, too, because it was as very heavy and your arms were far from well-toned.
Satoru saw you struggle.
“Allow me to help,” he began, swiftly maneuvering over to you.
“No!” you rejected, rather loudly, causing him to cease abruptly and look at you in surprise. You then nervously fixed your tone, “No, prince Satoru, do not worry yourself; I can lift it.”
What you really meant to say was; this is my typewriter and only my grubby fingers are allowed to touch it.
He could sense your possessiveness over the object and chuckled a little to himself as you finished heaving—with a small grunt he found oddly cute—the typewriter onto the table by the window.
He’d designated that spot for you to write after noticing, within the first week of your employment in his study, that you had a habit of taking breaks from typing to gaze out the window in thought.
He noticed. He always noticed.
You wiped your hands down the pleats of your skirt, rather anxiously so, and then you waited.
Suddenly, his brow perked up, and his lip curled. “What are you waiting for?”
“You order for me to be seated, sire.” you drawled.
His lip curled further, face assuming something rather snarky, “Only dogs wait to be told to sit. Are you a dog?” he challenged.
“No, sire.” you replied firmly, sick of him testing you before the session has even begun.
Satoru narrowed his crystal eyes at you, almost pitifully.
You knew that he derived pleasure from mocking other’s obedience to authority, because he was a damned rebel himself—always ignoring the elder’s orders and doing as he wanted, even if it caused a ruckus.
But you were annoyed by his failure to understand that you had been raised to fear disobeying the crown, even if it was in the quietest of gestures, like sitting before being told to.
There was a long silence, one he began, one he continued, and one he ended.
“Sit down.” he commanded exasperatedly.
What a jerk, you thought.
But your response to him was just a humiliated smile.
You seated yourself into the ornate desk chair without a sigh and interlaced your shaky fingers, resting them before the typewriter’s edge.
When you took your seat upon the pillowy chair, he began again, after a moment of hesitation.
“Alright then.” he nearly whispered, penetrating gaze unwavering on you, “Let’s continue from where we left of last time.” he instructed.
He seated himself as well, but unlike you, he could afford to be flamboyantly lazy and ungraceful; he plopped upon the parcel-gilt recamier with all the elegance of a toad.
“—oof!” he exclaimed.
And then, the toad began to speak;
“... now, dear reader, our beloved and slightly mad character A began to fret, for he knew not what to make of his feelings—was it love swelling in the pits of his bosom?—er, make that ribcage, not bosom—or was it a cruel ghost puppetteering his body? Surely, surely, he who had not loved any other but that girl in the painting, was not in love!” he rambled poetically, acting out and straining his voice at points for emphasis.
Your fingers had began moving swiftly across the keys, hammering down on them to create what the prince felt was music to his ears—tiktiktik, taktaktak.
Satoru draped himself over the pin-striped recamier like a lazy child, arms dangling off the back and eyes fixed on his favorite artwork in the room; you.
Clacking away at keys, hyperfocused, with eyes like heaven narrowed at the typewriter.
When you finished transcribing that bulk, he waited a moment. Actually, he waited such a long moment that you thought he had spontaneously died, so you finally glanced over at where he sat.
Lo, behold; the toad had not died, but instead was staring at you intensely.
A shiver went down your back. Your thighs tensed together.
What was he doing? It seemed like he was trying to figure something out, but you didn’t know what.
Only after he’d lengthened the silence into an acute awkwardness, did he then continue speaking.
“It couldn’t be. Ah, so our beloved and slightly love-sick character A fretted severely now, his life of delectable licentiousness soon to be upturned, re-realizing his old dreams and desires. His madness ensued; self-destruction became imminent. And that, all at the soft hands of a woman.”
—tiktiktik, taktaktak.
Satoru watched your hands and fingers move as you typed. He watched them move, ponderingly.
The air in the study came to a still again. No noise roused except sweet birdsong from the gardens, and the ocassional rustle of the prince repositioning himself on the recamier.
He fiddled with the golden tassle end of a pillow, seemingly lost in thought.
“Sire?”
“Do you like it?” he asked randomly, “My story, I mean. Is it interesting to you?”
You blubbered at first, not ready for his question. “I—well, my prince,”
His heart leaped at your use of a possessive pronoun. What could it mean? Were you trying to be endearing? Perhaps, perhaps...
“Go on,” he purred, “Be my most brutal critic, Miss Darling.”
Oh, and there he went, calling you by that name again like he did last time. The tease. Had he no shame? Calling you by cute names like that, like he was your husband, was so uncouth.
Satoru rested his cheek on his forearm; one hand delicately poised on the gilded edge of the recamier.
So beautiful, messy yet tidy in the way he dressed; he fussed a lot with his puffy sleeves, had a habit of nibbling at them or playing with them—yes, this man was of age and still he held onto these childhood habits. Long legs clad deliciously in just a pinch-tight black trousers—it’s those long legs that many women swooned about, that intimidated men of regular stature. You? Well, you suppose his long legs were quite attractive, yes. But he was too cocky about his height, especially showing off around you by straightening to his full length—just in case you cared.
He looked at you like you were the painter, and he was the muse falling madly in love—instead of how it really was, which was absolutely the other way around.
“I’m waiting.” he encouraged, growing a little more impatient with each passing moment of your silence.
You swallowed unsurely before answering, “I think it will be popular.”
Then the boy let out a noise, a funny noise of displeasure—like a goose honking—which almost made you laugh, but you held back.
“That’s not what I wanted to hear...” he muttered, “Answer me again, but differently this time.”
“Um, alright.” you complied, completely confused, “Women will love it,”
He curled his lips at you, seemingly still dissatisfied so you hastily added, “I think the protagonist is very endearing.”
“A-ha!” he caught.
You started in your seat, brows raising high up your forehead and smile ripping across your face without warning, because the prince had abruptly jumped up on his two feet and stood—yes, with his shoes—on the recamier.
He was like an actor trying to portray a pirate who had just found treasure through his spyglass.
The prince stood like this, and said:
“So you do like it!” he smirked triumphantly, dimples sweet on his cheeks.
“Sire, are you really twenty-seven? Because right now, with you acting like this, I can hardly believe it.” you teased.
His smirk only grew, like he was enthralled that you were infected by his playful spirit.
In that moment, god knows how or why, you felt like two childhood best friends playing around.
You had resolved to never forgive his arrogance or shameless licentiousness, to punish him for flirting with you and eyeing you out since day one of your employment as his scribe; but right then, you just couldn’t.
He was too cute.
Rudely so.
He leaped off the recamier and landed on his two feet with a clak. Then, he made his way over to you, all hyper as a puppy.
The chair in front of you was torn outwards, and then he plopped onto it.
Pale fingers interlocked each other under the flushed tip of the handsome prince’s nose.
“Now, tell me what else do you like about it? Tell me, tell me.” he begged.
“I—um, I don’t know.” you stuttered, watching his movements. “I suppose it’s, quite... quite... uh.”
Schlunk. Schlunk. Schlunk—that was the sound of the feet of the chair scraping across wooden floors as he scooted the chair around the circumference of the window table closer to you.
“Yes? Go on.”
Blue eyes sparkled at you. Satoru hounded you until you said something—anything—about his story.
“I—I really think we ought to get back to writing, or you will never finish this book at all.” you suggested.
He glowed at you, cheeks a subtle pink.
“Right, right... you mean to say, rather, that you want to see the ending so badly that you can’t hardly contain yourself?—well then! If that’s the case... I’ll continue. If only for you.”
You sighed, heart beating abnormally fast, as you reposed your wrists and hands, reading your fingers atop the keys of the typewriter.
ㅤ⚜
The library was teeming with books, stacks piling up and some spread across the desk or coffee table or floor, proving how much time the prince had spent cooped up reading. Reams of typewritten pages also decorated the study, some crumbled and laying rejected while the others made it to the revered holy stack.
You massaged your wrists, then raised your eyes to where the prince stood.
Tall, lean; Prince Satoru lazed against the edge of the window, casting a thoughtful look outwards to the gardens—they were in full bloom, pink and red roses whisper conspiratorily to one another about the prince and the poet, making up stories about the two of you.
“I have decided,” began Satoru, voice sounding a little more tired than earlier when he was bursting with energy, “I will not name the characters until the story is completed. Partially, because I just have no idea what names suit them.” he explained, fiddling his fingers.
He always clenched his hand like that; like he was trying to knead something within his fist.
You listened to him continue, “... and partially, because I feel it would take from me the lazy pleasure that I feel from leaving things unfinished.” he completed, smirking smugly to himself, then finally drawing his gaze away from the rosebushes and to you.
But he quickly looked away again, stealing his pretty attention away from you.
You wrinkled at him, “I always name my characters. It’s the first thing I do. Otherwise, they feel empty and soulless.” you said. “The least you could do for character A is name him—he’s suffering terribly.”
He looked at you again, eyes finding you with ease—like he’d been planning to recapture you in his pupils from the moment he’d torn his eyes away.
“And character B?” he lowered his voice. Your stomach tensed. He sounded sultry... oh god, enticingly so.
He dared closer to you as he continued, “what do you think of character B? Is she not suffering, too?”
“Not to the same degree he is.” you argued, “Your Highness is really putting him through it.”
Satoru’s heart panged. His eyes glittered at you.
And then, he drew yet nearer.
And nearer, and nearer, he came to you slowly, one step at a time, long legs striding with grace—a stark contrast to the lazy clutz act he usually puts on. For he was in fact, not clumsy, but exactly precise and calculated in his movements; he only ever pretended to be clumsy.
The prince’s hand brushed sensually over the top of your typewriter. Your hands were laid lightly on the keys.
“Do you feel pity him?” he asked in a quiet voice.
Your entire body tremored—prince Satoru noted how you squirmed, how your breath became more uneven.
When he leaned down, your heartbeat quickened. “Do you feel pity for the torment he’s going through?”
You blubbered.
Oh god, he was so close. You could smell his sweet breath, his soft cotton, his hair.
Those lips, they looked rosier than usual—and he nearly smiled when he caught you looking at them.
Those eyes, they were like glistening chandeliers. He fluttered his lashes at you, and then suddenly the study room felt much more like a bedroom.
Your head spun; this eye contact and proximity was dizzying. His lips looked so kissable. Satoru continued to pierce you with his gaze, not letting you escape the vortex.
Then, a noise resounded and completely distracted the prince.
A great noise, like a whale or something—ah.
It was your stomach gurgling.
He smiled. Your face burned.
“Ah. Never mind.” Satoru dismissed. “Let’s take a tea break.”
He eased off, slowly increasing the distance between you and him which only now did you realize had nearly closed completely—just how close was he to stealing a kiss? To grazing his fingertips over your hand?
For a moment there, it felt like he was going to do something, but then he didn’t.
ㅤ⚜
The gardens were quaint; soft, green, a heaven of roses. In the distance, there was a statue fountain of a nymph preening her hair. Moss creeped up her feet, as if in worship.
You could easily laze around all day and stare out at this scenic view of the palace’s most cherished gardens; it was so refreshing.
A cool breeze swept across the prince’s skin, as he sat slouched, legs widening. Condensation drops rolled down the pitcher of cool lemonade.
He’d watched you, with a pleased smirk, as you cleared the topmost tier of a dessert tray.
“Someone was hungry.” he teased.
“Very.” you replied.
The pleasant sweetness of a macaron clung to the tip of your tongue. A breezy silence came over the garden. Everything was still, only the birds flirted quietly in the distance.
The two of you continued to bask in the quietness for a long while, before Satoru punctured the silence.
“So then, Werther’s suicide—we did not finish our discussion last time you were here.”
“Right. Yes. That.”
He shifted himself in his chair, assuming a very unconventional sitting position.
“Do you need more time to gather your thoughts on it?”
“No,” you lied, “I form my opinions quickly.”
“How un-deep... er, what word am I looking for?”
“Shallow.”
“That’s it.”
You glowered at him, so he sipped awkwardly at his lemonade and darted his eyes away.
Knowing he must have said something mean, he quickly attempted to fix it.
“See? Now this is why I hired you; such a smart girl.” he complimented.
You winked your shoulders at him, “I prefer lethally intelligent woman, but thank you, I suppose.” you sassed.
He grinned.
Cool lemonade kissed his lips. A macaron found yours.
Then the two of you teased each other once again.
“I swear if wit could kill, I’d be dead by now.”
“Oh, if only it could!”
He giggled.
The prince giggled—like a boy.
You had to remindd yourself that he was still annoying.
But your heart swelled without permission.
ㅤ⚜
Old, old trees made kaleidoscope shadows upon the grass with their leaves.
The birds continued to flirt in the distance. Two pigeons fluttered upon the fountain’s edge to sit—not to pay respect to the stone nymph’s beauty, but to flap their wings at each other.
You and the prince watched them from this distance; the one chased, the other ran.
At last, they flew away together.
Satoru bit his lip, chewed on it for a while, and did that thing with his hand again—kneading, nervously.
You sat there like you were posing for a painting, oblivious for once to his staring because you were trying to script out the rest of your own little stories—you’d been stashing ideas away all day, just waiting to get home and write them, even though you knew you would probably just fall asleep instead, leaving your brilliant visions to decay yet again.
The prince cleared his throat, more to remind you of his presence than anything.
He cast a glance at your fingers, poised upon the table one layered over the other.
Then he noticed, like he has many times before, how naked your fingers were.
“You’re not married.” he noted.
“I am not.” you confirmed.
He blinked at you, and shifted around, “Has anyone made an offer to you?”
“Not yet.”
The prince smirked.
“Yet...” He repeated, teasingly.
Leaned forward in his seat, blue eyes glimmering like aquamarines at you, the prince’s face grew curious.
“What?” you questioned innocently.
“You said ‘not yet’—that means you intend to marry.” he deciphered.
You shrugged, “Maybe.” you tried to throw him off. “It depends.”
You deepened his interest with this. He leaned in even closer, now reaching halfway across the table—not one for being subtle, is he?
“On what does it depend?” he asked eagerly.
“Well, I would only marry if I were really in love.” you explained.
“Ah. Then, what kind of lover do you want?” he attempted to dig deeper.
“I don’t know.” you blocked him again.
A bout of silence passed, the lingering of conversation suspended in it.
The tiered silver platter sat short and sweet at the center of the white iron table, brimming with danishes, scones, macarons...
Satoru took one of them and began to nibble at it.
“A gentleman.” you finally answered.
He stopped nibbling at the edge of the macaron, “I see. And, ahem, how do you feel about poets?”
You pushed air through your nose, damned to smile.
“They’re the worst.”
His lips pulled into a smile, too, heart racing a little.
“And why’s that?” he explored, lowering the macaron.
Blue eyes marvelled at you, as he sat there awaiting your reply.
You’d begun fiddling with the pleats of your skirt. He seemed completely calm.
“Because all they do is dream.”
“What’s so wrong about that!”
“They spread a disease across the hearts of young women. You might know it; it’s called disillusionment.”
Satoru grumbled, falling back into his chair and falling apart, like your words had just completely dismantled him.
“I disagree. The best lovers are poets.” he argued.
“Ha-ha, no! When a man is a poet, he’s just a—” you bit your tongue.
The prince cocked his head, attention snapped by your near slip-up.
“What were you going to say?”
“Nothing. We’ve gone off-topic. About Werther...” you detracted.
“Werther can wait.” interrupted the prince. He abandoned the macaron he had nibbled at and began to rise from his seat. Your eyes followed him. “Let’s get back to writing. I have a new idea of how to further torment character A.”
“You’re cruel!” you scolded.
He smiled down at you, white hair caught perfectly in the light, rustled by the breeze.
“So are you.”
ㅤ⚜
Night-time neared. The breath of the golden hour had nearly vanished.
In the study, reams of paper had piled up even more as Satoru tormented character A for many pages more. And what else?—he laughed and smiled while he did so, as if deriving pleasure from being cruel to this poor, innocent fictional man.
But eventually, the prince became distracted, like he always did at the end of the day.
Because of you.
Because everything that had transpired throughout the day between you and him, was now whispering up his spine.
He sighed into the recamier, sinking so low into it that he disappeared from view of the window where you sat with your typewriter.
You yawned, you sighed, and you waited like a dog to go home, but alas; the prince kept you longer and longer, like a captive in his castle. Mind addled with his poetry and ever-changing prose, you just wanted your home and your bed.
You propped your face upon one palm and listened to prince Satoru ramble on about... well, anything and everything.
He sporadically shifted between topics, desperately trying to capture your interest and failing each time, because you were simply too tired to follow his train of thought anymore.
He swung his legs off the edge of the seat, kicking them back and forth.
“He said, ‘she has taken possession of my whole being’—isn’t that just so beautiful? I love how dearly he regards his Lotte. Never have I felt so akin to a fictional man...”
He nearly whispered the last part to himself.
You yawned bigger, you sighed louder, eyelids growing heavier. With the prince’s murmuring voice, and the serene stillness of the palace at golden hour, you nearly fell asleep.
“And the symbolism of the ribbon—”
“Fair prince,” you interrupted him mid-sentence.
“Yes?” he arrested immediately at your voice, legs stilling.
The prince bit his lip, waiting idly for you to speak. You couldn’t see him, he was concealed behind the recamier’s edge, nor could you see his honestly cute expression.
“If I don’t leave soon, I won’t make it home before dark.” you reasoned.
He wilted, “Oh...” he cast a sad look to one of the windows, noting the shifting sun, “it’s that time again already?” he mumbled glumly, propping himself on his elbows.
You saw a head of messy white hair and a pair of sleepy blue eyes pop up from behind the recamier. He rubbed at his eye, then sniffled. It seemed like something was on his mind.
“Right. I’ll have the carriage readied for you.”
ㅤ⚜
You walked in stride together out of the castle.
“You worked really hard today—sorry for wasting so much of your time with my ramblings... I, er, got carried away.”
“Not at all, prince Satoru, I like it when you ramble.” you huffed.
“You like it...?” he muttered inaudibly to himself with a smile.
Now you walked ahead of him, heels of your boot crunching gravel, leaving him to stare open-mouthed after you. He ruffled his hair, smiled a little to himself, then hurried after your shadow.
Oh, it was no use. He couldn’t hide that he yearned for closeness.
And he made it very obvious when he helped you into the carriage, leading you up the footstep by the hand.
He was gentle, sensitive; holding your hand lightly even though he wanted to squeeze it.
You could brush it off as polite chivalry, yes. Many men have kindly lead you by the hand into carriages. So you were prepared to think nothing of it... until...
“Thank you for—” you cut off at feeling a sudden softness at your hand.
Something warm and plush met your skin—the prince’s lips.
Blue eyes bore up at you. His back bent low. Breath on skin. He kissed your hand, slowly, while staring right up into your eyes.
“—see you tomorrow.” he whispered, lips grazing the back of your palm.
“Right.” you breathed, eyes blown open wide.
The sunlight was a brilliant gold, brightening his face and making him appear so especially handsome right then. His young face, rouge cheeks, heavenly eyes and snowy hair were like something of legend. To behold this kind of man was a rarity—a rarity that was all yours. And he let it be only yours in that moment.
His hand left yours too soon. Skin missing warmth, soul missing soul.
And then the prince stood there and watched as the carriage took you away, missing you immediately.
ㅤ⚜
You caressed your fingertips over the back of your palm as you contemplated for the entire carriage ride home.
Swaying softly with the carriage’s rickety movements, you felt utterly confused by your own emotions.
No, you could not make sense of what just happened, nor how it made you feel. You were trying to solve the entire day’s experiences like a riddle in your mind, piecing together his actions and linking them to presumed intentions.
Was he just a flirt? Was he just being playful? Surely, surely.
You felt the print of his lips on the back of your palm, fresh and alive, and smiled a little to yourself.
ㅤ⚜
“Mom! Dad!” you called from the entryway, stomping down your boots and unlacing them.
“Daughter!” your mother called in a cheery tone, “Come into the kitchen, I have news! I have news!”
Dinner was cooking, home smelled especially homely, for some reason. It was warm, soft, honeyish. The foyer chandelier sat crooked as it’s always been for nearly a decade, since you knocked it with a broomstick as a child in an attempt to shake a ragdoll out of it (you’d been playing Fairy Flight School a little too hardcore).
Upon the coat rack you hung your coat, then two white gloves found themselves forgotten elsewhere in the foyer.
You sighed tiredly but still felt invigorated. Was it the prince’s kiss making you feel this way?
Maybe you were wrong about him. Maybe he wasn’t all that bad—perhaps your pride and prejudice had gotten the better of you.
He made you laugh, after all. Insults aside, you suppose. That’s more than a great deal of men have been able to do for you.
Scurrying into the kitchen, you found your mother bustling about, fussing over pots and pans simmering with—mm, hearty stew.
She welcomed you home with all her heart, pulling you into an aggressively affectionate hug as she always did that ended with you having pinched-raw cheeks.
You seated yourself lazily at the table, hard dining chairs not nearly as comfortable as the pillowy one you had spent the day writing in for him.
“How was today?”
“It was... good.” you blushed.
“Daresay you almost miss him?—oh, I’m just teasing!” she laughed.
You groaned, “Mooom! Give me the news already.”
“Alright, I’ll begin with the bad news,” she sighed, bringing her hands to her plump hips where the apron sat upon, “Father is working late tonight, so he won’t be joining us for dinner.”
You frowned. “Well, that’s not news at all.”
“He’s a wanted man.” she sighed yet heavier.
“In more places than one...” you muttered, recalling unpleasant childhood memories. It was always like this. You were always left waiting for him to come home. And when he did, he’d walk past you. In time, you learned to forgive him on the idea that maybe he was just too tired to greet his little girl with enthusiasm. But it still nagged you.
“NOW FOR THE GOOD NEWS!” your mother barely contained herself, and you jumped in your seat at how her voice swelled to an operatic pitch now. “Your dear sister is coming to town—she’ll be staying for Christmas.”
“What!” you stood up again, face glowing with a bright smile. “Oh! When is she arriving!?”
“Tomorrow, two o’clock. I’ll be picking her up at the train station while you are at the palace.” she explained, beaming very smugly.
You expressed, exchanging happiness with your mother who seemed quite pleased.
Finally, you’d have someone to bitch about the prince to.
ㅤ⚜
The table was set. The blessing of a mother’s home-cooked meal made up for the plain cutlery and plates and the hard chairs.
You wondered briefly how the prince ate. His plates must have been lined with gold. The food must have been exotic. He was probably dining with a wealth of stimulating company, laughing and joking—a jester in his own court. Gleaming chandeliers and fairy princesses and noble women clinging at his side.
But the picture you had painted in your head was very, very different to his reality.
ㅤ⚜
Far away, in that palace you had left just a short two hours ago, sat the prince in his grand and lonely dining hall.
Gilded silverware and gloomy chandeliers, a picturesque view of the garden framed by the tall top-rounded windows.
He pecked sparcely at his food, like a bird.
Not a living sound met his ears. In fact, the silence was so strong, that he could only hear the gentle flickering of a candle flame.
And he sat alone, pale face illuminated by this warm light revealing a look of glumness.
Prince Satoru leaned his cheek on one palm, played with his food for a little while longer, before giving up entirely on the meal and deciding to instead roam the palace to try and find peace with his other hunger.
Blue eyes like brilliant saphires blinked about the halls. They were cold. White lashes shivered. The puff of his eyelids thickened with sleepiness.
Two feet dragged slowly down corridors, until he stopped at last.
And he stared.
There, hung on the wall in a golden gilded frame, was a portrait of a young girl.
He blinked slowly at the painting that he had seen many times throughout his childhood, when he would loudly bound down the empty halls.
Satoru continued blinking at the painting, an uncomfortable feeling swarming his chest. He felt frantic. Like he was about to go crazy. Because god, he kept remembering your laugh, your eyes, your smile—and he tried and tried to deny the evidence nagging in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t.
Now, dear reader, our beloved and slightly mad Prince Satoru began to fret, for he knew not what to make of his feelings—was it love swelling in the pits of his ribcage? Or was it a cruel ghost puppetteering his body? Surely, surely, he who had not loved any other but that girl in the painting, was not in love.
“Not like in the books, at least.” he muttered, quietly talking to himself. “Ohhh, how should I punish myself for feeling this way for you?” he sang low, heart throbbing full of visions of you.
You’re a mess Prince Satoru. You’re a royal mess.
ㅤauthor's note────Something about this story idea clicked so well with me that I kept writing it, despite having a lot of promised stories piling up. I wanted to start a fluffy mini-series prior to High Exposure, which is going to be very very angsty and sexually charged, so I wanted a bit of a break from that; a lighter story to work on on the side that requires much less intense planning. I wrote this overnight on a whim. Each scene is spur of the moment, which I haven’t done in a long time. This story is an exercise in writing for me, because I have developed a style for most of my fiction that is very cheeky and crude (which I love, and will continue writing other stories in this fashion of course). For the sake of keeping myself on my toes, I will push myself to write a little more elegantly for this story. I’ve been reading Russian classic literature again, as well as my favorite book which is The Sorrows of Young Werther, and I'm watch period piece films. So all of those are the driving inspiration behind this work in particular. I love having an excuse to talk about my favorite book so I'll extend their debate on that book, and I have debated it a lot in real life so the dialogue seems to be flowing very easily between the prince and the poet.
pairing: aged-up!neteyam sully x f!omatikaya!reader
summary: neteyam flirts with danger and admirers, but he can’t hide his feelings. when he claims you, the two of you lose yourselves in the glowing forest, your bond igniting into something raw and undeniable.
warnings: MDNI 18+ !! two-thousand words of angsty foreplay, mating / tsaheylu before eywa, porn with plot, slight longing, fingering, oral (fem recieving), p in v, dirty talk, lots of teasing, literally one sentence of a breeding kink, possessiveness.
The sacred fire crackles at the heart of the Kelutral, sparks spiralling upward like prayers carried to Eywa. Its warm glow illuminates the faces of the gathered clan, casting shifting light across painted faces and braided hair. Before the people stand the newly proven warriors – Neteyam among them – shoulder to shoulder. Tall and unyielding, their broad chests are adorned with fresh beads and tightly bound cummerbunds, the marks of Iknimaya earned through blood and breath.
Your gaze finds Neteyam without effort. His bioluminescent markings glow softly beneath the firelight, pulsing faintly, alive – proud. The scent of roasted yerik mingles with crushed fruit and smoke, heavy and celebratory, as drums pulse in rhythm with the thrum of your heartbeat. The night is alive with triumph, and something quietly electric in the air.
Jake Sully’s voice carries over the murmurs of the crowd.
"Tonight, we honor these warriors. They have proven themselves. And now… they may choose their paths – their mates, if Eywa wills it."
A ripple of excitement moves through the gathered Na’vi.
Neteyam stands tall among the others, his expression calm; but you catch the way his tail flicks once, betraying his nerves.
As the crowd loosens and bodies begin to mingle, laughter spilling into the open space, you start to move towards him, drawn instinctively to his side. You slow however, at the sight of another approaching.
From the edge of the circle, Vi’rey steps forward, her golden eyes gleaming beneath fluttering lashes, beaded braids clicking softly as she moves. She wears her finest woven jewelry, her every move deliberate. She doesn’t hesitate, heading straight for Neteyam.
"The son of Toruk Makto must have many admirers," she says loudly enough for others to hear, her fingers brushing his forearm. Her voice lowers, the space between them shrinking into a private hush, before she purrs, "Strong hunters. Skilled weavers. Those who would bring honor to his name.”
The implication hangs in the air. Neteyam stiffens. But he doesn’t pull away.
You watch from the shadows of the gathered crowd, your stomach twisting. He’s too kind. Too honorable. He won’t embarrass her publicly, even if his eyes keep flickering toward you.
Vi’rey smirks, taking his silence as encouragement.
"Perhaps tomorrow," she murmurs, leaning closer, "you will show me the new trails by the eastern river?"
A muscle jumps in Neteyam’s jaw, but he dips his head in a shallow nod. "Perhaps."
The word is polite. Noncommittal.
But it still makes your chest ache.
⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹
The feast stretches into the deep hours of night, the air thick with laughter and the low hum of whispered promise as the celebration devolves from formal rite to social gathering.
You watch from the edges as warriors weave through the crowd; some already paired off, fingers tangled in new embraces, others still circling like sharp-fanged nantang.
You keep a careful eye on Neteyam as he makes polite conversation with other candidates who approach him. It makes your skin itch with irritation to watch him play the part of gracious warrior as they touch and preen at him – but he never lets them get too close.
Neteyam remains near the fire, caught in an endless rotation of admirers.
Vi’rey hasn’t left his side. She laughs too loudly at his dry remarks, her fingers tracing the freshly woven beads around his neck.
Beside you, a few of your friends gather for the festivities, voices dancing between hushed whispers and soft giggles. The fire flares, spilling warm gold across their delicate features. Se’lanu hums thoughtfully, her eyes flicking to yours with knowing anticipation – as if she’s asked you something already. Perhaps she has. But your thoughts have wandered elsewhere, far beyond the circle of light.
You watch him through the flames. His shoulders sit easy, a quiet calm softening his features. He leans forward just enough to catch the words of the girl beside him, attention unforced, unguarded. One leg is propped up, his arm draped loosely over it – comfortable and grounded.
Then, his gaze skates across the gathering and finds yours.
His smile fades, replaced by a tender intensity, the firelight illuminating the sharp planes of his face. His head inclines in a near-imperceptible greeting – a silent reassurance – before Vi'rey leans in again, demanding his attention with a coy smile.
Se’lanu bumps her shoulder against yours, her eyes glittering with something you can't quite place, breaking through the fog of your thoughts.
"Still moon-eyed over him?" she murmurs, voice warm with amusement.
Your eyes break away from his hesitantly, head half turning to meet hers before turning away entirely, suddenly transfixed by the leaf of food in front of you.
“I do not know what you mean,” you deflect.
Se’lanu snorts into her cup of fermented fruit nectar, the sound entirely ungraceful.
"Oh? So you weren’t staring at Neteyam like he hung the stars in the sky?" She leans in, her grin widening as she nudges you again. "Your ears are flicking. You’re a terrible liar."
Across the fire, Vi’rey lets out a peal of laughter – too loud, too performative – as she leans closer to Neteyam, her hand resting possessively on his forearm.
You stab your roasted yovo root a little too aggressively.
Se’lanu’s smirk softens into something more sympathetic. "You should go to him," she murmurs. "Before someone else does."
Your fingers tighten around your eating stick. "He’s surrounded."
"And yet," she says pointedly, "his eyes keep finding you."
A beat passes, the moment heavy with contemplation.
“It’s not like that. I’ve tried – tirelessly – and he hasn't seemed to get the message. That, or he's choosing to ignore it,” you sigh, defeat heavy in your chest. “Even so, he’s not even trying to hide it.”
Your eyes lift to his figure once more. “He seems perfectly content,” you add, the word sharp with sarcasm.
Se’lanu’s shifts with understatement.
"Content?" she scoffs, her brows furrowing in disbelief. "More like tolerating. Have you not seen how he looks at you? It's as if the rest of the world doesn't exist when you're in range."
She gives your shoulder a gentle shake. "Stop being so stubborn, skxawng. Go to him."
⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹
Across the fire, Neteyam leans back against a broad tree root, the bark rough against his bare shoulders. The flames cast flickering shadows across his face, sharpening the line of his jaw, the quiet intensity in his golden eyes as they dart – again – to where you sit. He scolds himself.
Vi’rey leans in close, her laughter brushing his ear as she says something meant only for him, bright eyes flicking up to gauge his reaction. When she is met with silence, she notices his absent mindedness.
"You're distracted," she murmurs, too observant for his liking.
Neteyam’s tail flicks once – a barely restrained twitch of irritation. "Just tired," he lies smoothly.
She hums, unconvinced. "Perhaps you need… company to help you relax." Her voice drops, laden with implication.
His fingers tighten around his wooden cup. "Vi’rey." A warning.
She only smiles, undeterred. "Come now, Neteyam. You must know how many would kill to be in my place right now." Her hand slides down to his forearm, possessive. "Why resist what’s inevitable?"
Neteyam’s gaze cuts back to you – watching Se’lanu nudge you, watching your reluctant smile – before he exhales sharply.
“I don't see why I need to rush anything,” he drawls half-heartedly.
"Is that so?" Vi'rey purrs, her eyes glittering in the firelight. "So you're happy just... waiting around?"
He sighs. "I didn't say that."
"Then what is it?" She leans closer, her fingers tracing a maddening path up his shoulder. "What – or who – exactly are you waiting for?"
‘Not you’. The words cut through his mind, sharp and instinctive. His jaw tightens, shoulders stiffening as he pulls back just enough to put space between them.
“Not everything has to be like that,” he growls, low and final, the edge in his voice making it clear a line has been drawn.
Her hand drops, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before it's replaced by a pout. "I don't know why you're being so difficult," she sulks, leaning back against the tree root. "You act like you're not even attracted to me."
Neteyam can't help but roll his eyes, his tail flicking irritably. "That's because I'm not."
Her face falls, "excuse you?," she snaps, voice clipped.
Neteyam exhales sharply through his nose, his patience wearing thin.
"You heard me." His voice drops, low and dangerous – the same tone he uses before a fight. “This ends now."
Vi’rey’s lips part in stunned silence. Around them, the chatter of her friends dims, sensing the shift in tension.
Neteyam doesn’t care.
He pushes to his feet in one fluid motion, leaving his cup behind as he strides past Vi’rey’s furious glare, cutting through the crowd with single-minded purpose – straight towards you.
⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹
One moment, you're rolling your eyes at Se’lanu’s relentless teasing, the next, a shadow falls over you.
You barely have time to blink before Neteyam’s hand closes around your wrist, hauling you upright with a single, effortless pull. Your chest collides with his, the warmth of him searing through your skin.
Se’lanu barely stifles a laugh as Neteyam tosses a gruff "Borrowing her" over his shoulder, already dragging you away before you can protest.
"Neteyam–!" you hiss, stumbling after him as he weaves through the crowd, his grip unrelenting.
He doesn’t slow until you’re both deep in the shadow of the towering roots, the sounds of the feast distant. Only then does he spin you around, caging you between his arms, the glow of his markings painting your face in flickering blue.
His voice is rough, raw with frustration. "Enough."
You swallow. "Enough what?"
His nostrils flare. "Enough pretending. Enough waiting. Enough—" His fingers dig into your hips. "Dancing around this, around us. Letting everyone else get close to me, talk to me, when it should’ve been you this whole time."
Your pulse roars in your ears.
“You mean you knew?” Your voice sharpens despite yourself, disbelief threading every word. “You knew this whole time – and you just let whatever this was keep happening?”
His breath fans hot over your lips as he leans in – close, so close – and growls, "I’m saying it now."
Your heart stutters despite yourself. You exhale, steadying your voice. “Sorry, no– I’m just… trying to understand.” Your gaze lifts to his, searching. “You’re telling me you felt the same, this whole time, and yet you’ve been entertaining the idea of other girls. As if I wasn’t already yours. As if you aren't mine?”
His grip tightens, his breath coming faster; like he can't believe you're making him say it.
"I was never theirs," he snaps, voice fraying at the edges. "How could I be, when every time I close my eyes, all I see is you?"
His forehead drops against yours, his next words a desperate rasp. "I was waiting for you to claim me."
A shudder runs through you.
“Then consider yourself claimed," you half whisper, half bite – before surging up to finally kiss him.
Neteyam groans, low and unrestrained, as his arms crush you against him like he’s done pretending restraint exists. He takes control of the kiss completely, mouth claiming yours with a heat that borders on desperate; hungry and undeniable. His lips move with purpose, slow and deep, stealing your breath until your head spins and your knees threaten to give way.
The kiss is consuming. His grip tightens, one hand sliding up your spine, fingers splaying possessively as if to remind you exactly where you belong. You can feel the tension he’s been holding back for weeks – months – pouring into this single moment, every brush of his mouth heavy with need.
The world dissolves. No firelight. No voices. Just the heat of his body, the press of his mouth, the quiet, feral sound he makes when you melt into him. This isn’t gentle. This is want, long denied and finally unleashed.
Neteyam breaks the kiss panting, the sound ragged and unsteady as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, breath shuddering against your skin.
"I'm never letting you go again," he rasps, voice hoarse. "Not ever".
His lips find the sensitive spot under your ear, and you shiver.
"Good," you manage. "Because I wasn't planning on letting you go either."
You feel him smirk into the skin of your shoulder, nibbling gently at the curve. His fingers slide down your waist, tracing idle patterns across your hip, before pulling back to tug you gently.
He guides you along winding roots and well-worn paths, the forest bathed in a gentle bioluminescent glow that makes your star-like freckles shimmer softly against your skin. The air is rich with the scent of damp earth, heavy and intimate, carrying a quiet tension. His hands remain firmly intertwined with yours, steady and warm, as he moves through the canopy with effortless grace.
The Tree of Souls is as enchanting as ever, glowing purple tendrils enticing as they sway gently in the hush of the night, each pulse of light echoing like a living heartbeat. The air hums here – thick with memory and something quietly sacred – wrapping around you both as you step into its glow.
Neteyam slows, fingers still laced with yours, as if reluctant to let the moment rush past. The luminescence paints him in soft violet and blue, catching along his cheekbones and the curve of his shoulders, and for a breath you simply stand there together, bathed in Eywa’s light. The forest seems to lean in, listening.
Neteyam doesn’t wait. He’s on you – mouth searing hot against yours, hands already pulling at the ties of your loincloth. Neteyam’s lips leave yours only to trace the curve of your jaw, teeth scraping lightly, testing, before his tongue soothes the sting. His hands roam, unhurried, mapping every dip and curve of your body beneath him as if committing you to memory.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” he admits, voice thick as his fingers brush the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “How you’d sound. How you’d feel.”
You arch into his touch as his palm skims down your stomach, dipping teasingly below your waistband – so close – before retreating to grip your hip instead.
You pant breathlessly, grinding against him. His mouth is on your collarbone, kissing, biting, worshiping every inch of skin he can. You gasp as his fingers slide between your thighs, finding you already slick for him, always for him, and his groan vibrates against your lips.
“Eywa, you’re perfect.” His touch is deliberate, circling your clit with agonizing slowness until your thighs tremble.
“Neteyam–”
“Shh.” He nips at your earlobe. “Let me take my time.”
And he does, drawing out every gasp, every shudder, until you’re writhing beneath him, desperate for more. Neteyam’s lips trail down your throat, slow and deliberate, his hot breath ghosting over your skin as his other hand slides its way up your torso, gently kneading at your breasts. You moan softly.
He grunts against your pulse, voice like dark honey, rough and intoxicating. His teeth graze your collarbone, not enough to hurt, just enough to make you gasp. ““Shiit, baby… so eager for me, trembling for me already?”
His movements speed up, sleek fingers putting more pressure on your nub. His fingers ghost over your hole enticingly, aching and clenching around nothing, leaving you gasping with anticipation. His golden eyes are locked on yours, drinking in every twitch of your expression.
“Tell me,” he rasps, thumb pressing just a little harder. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You,” you gasp, hands fisting in his hair. “Always you.”
His growl of approval vibrates through your chest as he finally slides two fingers inside you, curling them just right.
“Good girl.”
He lingers a moment longer, nothing but the sounds of your whimpers and his digits pumping in and out of your heat fill the cooling air. His breath comes ragged between kisses, voice wrecked.
“Need to taste you, honey.”
Neteyam’s grip tightens on your thighs as he drags you down to the mossy canopy floor, his eyes burning with hunger. “Spread for me,” he growls – and you do, trembling as rips off your loincloth before settling between your legs, his breath hot against your soaked folds.
He doesn’t dive in immediately, he taunts, nipping at your inner thigh, running his tongue over your sensitive skin while his fingers continue to pump lazily inside you.
“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, dragging his nose through your slick. “All for me.”
Then, his tongue licks a slow, torturous stripe up your center, and you jolt, a broken cry escaping your lips.
“Haa–!”
He chuckles darkly, gripping your hips to keep you still as he does it again – slower this time, savoring the way you squirm.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me hear you.”
His mouth seals over your clit, sucking hard, and your vision whites out. His fingers curl, thrusting in time with his tongue, dragging you mercilessly toward the edge.
Then he pulls back, leaving you empty, and you whimper in protest.
Neteyam’s smirk is downright sinful as he rises over you, his cock pressing against your soaked entrance.
“Now,” he pants, “you can come on my tongue, or you can come on my cock. Choose.”
Your eyes meet his glazed over ones, amber irises now almost non-existent, pupils blown wide with lust and something deeper – dangerous, primal.
“I–,” you begin, choking on your own need, “Need to feel you. All of you.”
Neteyam hooks his arms under your thighs, dragging you flush against his groin. His hands pin your wrists above your head as he removes his own garments, dragging the thick head of his cock through your soaked folds teasingly, making you whine.
"You want it, baby?" His voice is raw, wrecked. "Gonna fuck you so deep you forget everyone else.”
You buck your hips, desperate, but he holds you down, grinding against your clit just to hear you sob.
His eyes soften slightly, before flicking between your flushed face and the braided, hair-like appendage resting against the mossy bed. The delicate tendrils curve invitingly, drawing him in with quiet allure.
Neteyam lifts his queue over his shoulder, guiding it toward yours with a feather-light touch, the movement careful and deliberate. You can feel the pounding of your heart, can feel the way his breath stutters as his pulse begins to slow.
He whispers something in Na'vi under his breath – a prayer or plea, you're not quite sure – then, gently, "May I?"
You shiver as his words hit you. His voice is gruff, but it's the sincerity in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat.
"Yes," you whisper, voice breaking. "Please."
He doesn't need to be told twice, the second the word leaves your lips he's surging forward, capturing your mouth in a deep kiss, all consuming and sickenly sweet, as he connects your queues.
A wave of intimacy washes over you both, a heady mix of pleasure and love that feels infinite and yet never enough. Tsaheylu – mates for life. The truth hits you as you open your eyes; he is yours, just as completely as you are his.
The bond tugs at your cores, deep and hot.
Then, without warning, he slams into you with one brutal thrust, sheathing himself to the hilt. Your back arches off the ground as he fills you, his groan guttural against your neck.
"Shit baby, you’re so tight–"
You claw at his shoulders, nails digging in as he pistons into you, each stroke hitting deeper, harder. His breath comes in ragged bursts, his moans unchecked.
"Fuck– this pussy–" His hips snap forward, relentless. "Made for me. Only me."
His hand wraps around your throat, not squeezing, just holding and claiming as his pace turns brutal.
"Gonna breed you right here," he snarls, voice breaking. "Gonna ruin you for anyone else."
You cry out as pleasure coils tight, his cock angled perfectly, hitting that spongy spot with every thrust. The bond pulses between you, amplifying every sense and emotion.
"Come for me," he demands. "Wanna feel you squeeze me."
And you do, shattering around him, his name a scream on your lips as he chases his own release.
"Fuck– yours, all yours!”
He comes with a roar, hips stuttering as he spills deep inside you, his body collapsing over yours in a sweaty, shuddering heap.
Neteyam keeps you close as he rolls onto his back, holding you snug against his chest as he brushes a few sweaty locks from your face, your queues still connected. His eyes are soft now, gaze adoring, a stark contrast to the dark hunger that had consumed him just moments before.
His fingers trail gently down your arm, tracing idle patterns across your skin as he tries – and fails – to stifle a yawn.
"You okay?" he murmurs, voice still a little rough.
You smile, snuggling closer. "I should be asking you."
He chuckles lowly, his words slightly hoarse but attentive. "Seriously baby, I didn't hurt you?" he smiles at you softly, "wasn't too rough?"
His fingertips trail down your side, checking for any tension as his eyes search yours. Always protective, even now.
“Never," you murmur, catching his hand and pressing it to your lips. “You were perfect."
A slow, lazy grin spreads across his face, smug almost, but with that undercurrent of relief. "Good." He kisses your forehead, lingering.
"Rest, paskalin," he murmurs, arms tightening around you. "I've got you."
And as your eyelids grow heavy, his heartbeat steady against your ear and the bond settling into something warmer, gentler, you believe him wholeheartedly.
haha don't look at me guys i'm blushing, this is my first smutty fic! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it <3
warnings: 🔞smut, virginity loss, p in v obvi, oral (f receiving), handjob, missionary, doggystyle, 2 sweethearts in love, neteyam calling reader mama (OMG.?!), gets rough for like a split second bc neteyam is a certified horn dog (and a munch!), him also not giving af and just nutting all in his girl, and me feeling overly single while writing this
summary: you and neteyam decide to take the next step into your guys’s relationship and it only makes you love one another more
authore’s note: guys i’m so in love w nete i seriously js wanna snatch him from my screen, shrink him and keep him in my pocket. this is my man like fr!!!
The festival
It was a traditional celebration that your people have been doing since you could remember. Several nights throughout the year that was picked for the night of fun
You had always loved attending. Spending the whole time with your closest friends and family. Those were always the best memories
Only this year, you had another special someone by your side
Your boyfriend Neteyam, him and his family had joined your clan about a year ago. The new comers sparking an interest in you. It was Tsireya who had convinced you to help teach them your ways
Happily you obliged wanting to get to know a certain someone who caught your eye
What you didn’t know was that you caught his too
The day he finally asked you out after months of learning, you were ecstatic. Never having feelings for someone so deeply, this was new for you. All of it was but Neteyam always reassured you that the two of you were in it together
Which leads you to now
You were waiting just outside of the event. The night only beginning after eclipse has set. The fire igniting its way all across your turquoise skin. A warmth consuming your body as you basked it all in
A sigh left your mouth, then a smile appeared on your face as your ears ticked up to the sound of footsteps
These were familiar and your head spun to the face
“Hi Nete” a whisper escaped your lips as a smiled plastered on your pretty face
Neteyam was star struck as he admired you “Hi my pretty girl”
He wore a cheeky grin as he approached you with his arms out. The two of you collided in a hug. Your round cheek smushed gently against his firm chest as his strong arms wrapped soothingly around your petite figure
“I missed you” he planted gentle kisses along the crown of your head, taking in the scent of your hair with a smile
“You just saw me” you backed away to look up at his face
“That was years ago”
“Baby it was only 5 minutes ago…”
He let out a laugh causing a vibration between your bodies
“Okay first of all, that’s way too long and second, I haven’t gotten a moment alone with you” he lowered his voice towards the last part with a tone that you couldn’t pick up on yet
But that didn’t stop your body from heating up at his words
“Mhm, look at you” he whispered placing gentle kisses all over your face
A giggle escaped your lips at his antics
“So beautiful, all mine. My gorgeous girl” he murmured to himself before his lips hovered over yours
“You got all dressed up for me?” he stepped back to look you up and down
Your hair — long and curly was done into 2 braids that you had done yourself. Decorated with some shells and flowers you found in a nearby garden by your marui
You nodded your head slowly with a smile at his intense stare
He licked his lips quickly — an act so sudden that had your body feeling some type of way
You smirked at him at he so obviously checked you out
“Come here” his index finger curled and twirled in motion as he lowly growled
As the two of you held eye contact, you slowly walked directly in front of him. His hand grazed yours gently as he held it. Rising it up in the air before spinning you around
A low whistle came from Neteyam the second your back was turned to him. Giggles escaped your mouth as you knew what he was looking at
“Boy you’re not slick” you shook your head once you were spun towards his face again
“You’re gonna be the death of me” he whispered bringing you in by your hips
“Well let’s try not to die…”
“Y’know.. I could just eat your sexy ass up right now” he whispered in your ear earning a playful slap to the chest
“Behave” you pointed your finger at him squinting your eyes
He playfully put his hands up in defense not taking his eyes off you. Scanning your body up and down with a hint of lust in his eyes
“Stop looking at me like that”
“But-”
“No”
You and Neteyam had been in a relationship for several months now. Starting not too long after him and his family had first arrived to your island
The boy was different yet very similar to you and it was natural to spark an interest to him. His natural leader aura attracted you the second you confided in a conversation
Once you finally got together, the connection only deepened. The two of you spent endless days and nights together doing whatever felt right
The ‘honeymoon’ phase deemed as it was and played its course. Now, after the progress you made it was natural for more… intimate steps in the relationship
“We still on for that sleepover?” he randomly brought up which made your ears flick before you remembered
“Oh! Yeah my parents said it was okay” you avoided his eye contact and he took notice of your stiff stance
“But? There’s something else” his eyes squinted as he observed your fidgeting
“I- just” you opened and closed your mouth repeatedly as a sign that you didn’t know what you were even tryna say
“Talk to me mama” his hand gently caressed the dip into your waist
You ears perked and the end of your tail began to sway as you fought the urge to let out a squeal
You finally decided to look into his eyes that never once left yours
“Do.. you think this is a good idea?” your voice was small as you hesitated to be asking your question
His head cocked to the side slightly “Didn’t you already get your parents approval? It’s not like we’re being sneaky”
You nodded your head in agreement and was about to cut the conversation short as your reasoning was a bit silly
“Something’s bugging you” he read you like the back of his hand
You couldn’t help but smile, he knew you so well
Neteyam sat on the huge rock that was behind him — bringing you with him by your waist making you stand right between his legs. Your breath hitched as he looked up at you
The night illuminating his features perfectly while his tahní glowed brightly
He was so handsome
“My love?” he took you out of your trance “Yeah, yes?”
“Wassup with you?”
You looked down anywhere but his face — suddenly finding his thighs to be really interesting as you started admiring his stripes
“Do I gotta force it outta you?” he playfully tugged your tail
“No! I’m just… nervous? a little scared?”
He physically recoiled at your confession before gently massaging your sides “What are you scared for?”
You face began to heat up and you blew raspberries out your mouth
“Me and you… being alone..” you mumbled playing with your song cord attached to your loincloth
“We’ve been alone before tho”
“This is different Neteyam, it’s… more intimate”
He took notice of your shyness and couldn’t help but laugh
“Look at me” his fingers grazed your chin before lifting your face up to meet his “I would never ever force you do anything you aren’t ready to, understand?”
“Okay, I understand” you nodded with a smile so hard little dimples poked out your cheeks
He poked them before kissing them gently, his hand going up to caress your cheek smoothly. The two of you leaning forward to engage in a passionate kiss
Taking turns with turning your necks in the opposite direction of each other, it became an entangled makeout session
Before you slowly pulled away “Let’s go back” referring to the festival
With his forehead placed on yours he nodded in agreement
The two of walked hand in hand back to the party. Having the time of your lives as you danced, sung, ate, and even drank with all of your friends. As the night began to come to an end, there was an even better beginning to look forward to
“That was so much fun” you squealed happily as you and Neteyam made your way back to your family home
He laughed, squeezing your hand gently “Yeah that was really fun, did you see Ao’nung’s dancing?”
“Oh eywa… he looked like an akula out of water”
The both of you made jokes and held hands the whole way up until you arrived. Planning on just relaxing and talking which is what the both of you usually did
“Here baby, I’ll get started on a fire” he let your hand go before gathering up some equipment — rubbing his hands together quickly to create some warmth “it’s freezing”
You blew out a breath into your hands “Yeah it is” a dry laugh came from your mouth
“Lemme help you” you kneeled down beside him
“No, no you go get changed into something more comfortable. I got it” he pushed you back softly giving you a warm smile
The look on his face told you he wasn’t gonna back off so you sighed before going to your section of the house to find some comfortable cloths
Leaving the makeshift door into your ‘room’ open — which was just a large blanket draped over the rooftop. There was a sliver of access into the room
Neteyam had looked over to ask you a quick question but paused once he saw your naked figure. Your back was turned towards him giving him the perfect view of your new traditional tatto you had gotten just a few weeks before
Then his eyes slowly trailed down towards your ass that was out, your legs that were strong and well defined from endless hours of swimming. You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen
You had accidentally dropped the top you were about to put on and bent over to grab it about to give him a view of your bare cunt and that’s when Neteyam decided to look away — a loud cough escaping his mouth as he looked around to find a distraction
“Are you okay?” you rushed out of your room to check on him
“Y-yeah, it got a little smokey in here” he lied waving around the fire
“That’s why you should’ve let me helped you” you sassily crossed your arms over your chest shaking your head at him
“Yeah yeah, come here” he grinned as he dragged you down to the floor with him
After hours were spent near the bonfire, the night began to calm. The festival was officially over. Only leaving the elders to clean up but even they were exhausted so everyone had called it in for the night
While that was going on you and Neteyam had been in your own little world. Your parents had gone on a hunting trip and were set to come back the next day in the afternoon. But you probably wouldn’t be with them again until the following night
“Your brother is crazy” you shook your head at the story he had just told you about
“Lo’ak’s always been like that” he shook his head with a chuckle
You laughed as your head laid on his chest, your right leg loosely across his abdomen with his legs entangled with yours
A yawn left your mouth and he turned to look at you “Gettin’ sleepy?”
You lazily nodded your head
He wrapped his arms around you turning his body towards yours. Nuzzling into each other soothingly before giving your bodies time to rest
After some shuffling around in attempts to get comfortable you laid defeated as your body fought against you
“Can’t sleep?”
“No, you?”
“Not at all”
The two of you were face to face admiring one another. The only thing heard is the slight crackles from the fire in the background and the creatures on the beach
His hand went to caress your cheek gently “You’re so beautiful”
“Shut up” you smiled at him teasingly
“I’m serious” his voice calm as he stroked your cheek
You stared at him longingly, scooting towards him. Taking your index finger to trace across his sharp jawline
“Hmm” he hummed with lidded eyes
Before he could say anything else you placed your lips on his. Your hand rubbing his face softly as you made out. His hands roaming across your body experimentally but not enough to make you uncomfortable
He sat up with you — never breaking apart from you. You accidentally moaned when he squeezed your ass making him smile into the kiss
With your mouth slightly open, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into yours. Twirling it around painfully slow
As your tongues danced around in each others mouths, your hands began to roam. You rubbed him wherever you could. His chest, abs, shoulders. You wanted him
“Neteyam” you panted breaking away from the kiss to catch your breath
He blissfully looked at you and you melted at the sight of his plump lips covered in a thin coat of your spit and the flushed look on his face
He scammed your eyes as if he was hesitating to make his next move…
“Can I try something?” he asked in a hushed tone as if you were in a room full of people
Your ears perked as he laid you down on your back before you could muster up an answer
“Try what?” you whispered as he looked down at you
He began placing kisses on your cheek before moving down to your neck, sucking on the spot he knew would make you putty right in his arms
You gasped as your back bowed slightly to the touch
You trailed your eyes down following his figure as he worked his ways down your body. Each move down having a kiss received to your skin
He worked his way to your chests — placing a tender kiss on your breasts. You placed your hands into his braids, slightly gripping them
“Mhm” you moaned as he began french kissing your covered nipple while fondling with the other
“Feels good?” he mumbled against your skin looking up at your face
You bit your lip nodding
“Want some more?” he asked while placing more kisses down to your stomach stopping just above the band of your loincloth
Your eyes widened at the sight of him now in between your legs, he swiftly moved your legs over his shoulders. The back of your thighs pressed firmly against him causing you to sit on your elbows in shock
“What are you doing?” you scanned his face before your eyes wandered around the room
“You trust me?”
“What”
“Do you trust me?” his voice was more firm as he gripped your thighs
You gulped loudly as your body tensed up, endless thoughts swarming in your head about what could go wrong and what could go right — but you listened to your heart
“I trust you” you nodded reaching for his hand
A smile grew on his face as he rubbed your knuckles
He looked down at your covered pussy and then back at you “May I?” his fingers playing with the hem of your loincloth
You nodded your head eagerly waiting for him to pleasure you
“Use your words mama” he massaged your thigh
“Yes please, touch me” you released a breath that you didn’t know you were holding
He took the knots out of your loincloth letting it fall from the side of your hips, then lifted you up to slide it out from underneath you before throwing it somewhere in the room
A quiet laugh left your mouth at his eagerness
He smiled looking up at you before looking down at the sight in front of him, all of your glory spreaded out basically on a silver platter for him
“Don’t stare” you tried closing your legs but he kept them apart
“Mhm” he ignored your protest, you almost pulled away from him before he placed a kiss right onto your slit.
“Oh!” your head flew back against the makeshift pillow
“So good, pussy so pretty fuck” he mumbled before licking your pussy from the bottom to the top
Soft moans flew out of your mouth at the waves of pleasure his mouth was giving you
He took this as a green light and started to devour you. Licking you up and down like you were the freshest fruit in all of Pandora. Eating you as if he was starved
His tongue swirled skillfully around your clit before he gently took it in his mouth, sucking on it. Your hand flew into his hair — not sure you wanted to push him away or pull him closer
“Oh my, mhmm don’t stop” you yanked on his hair as he began sucking on your clit harder, and essentially making out with your throbbing core
He hummed into you in response, gripping your thighs to bring you closer to him. Pulling away slightly to suck his cheeks in before letting his spit fall onto your pussy before going back in to lick it all up. All that could be heard were your desperate cries and the squelching noises that came from below you
Your hips started thrusting up uncontrollably as he began using the tip of his tongue to thrust in and out of you. Teasing you as he would start to go in before sliding it back out to lap up at your clit again
“I’m cumming!” you gasped, as he sent non stop licks to your pussy. Gulping down your juices as you made a mess all over his face. Swaying his head back and forth swiftly in attempts to catch it all and smear his face in your scent
“Shiiittt” you thrusted your hips up as the coil in your stomach snapped, closing your eyes as your jaw dropped from the moans stuck in your throat
Neteyam helped you through it, sucking your clit softly as he caresses your thighs gently. Coming off of you with a ‘pwah’
His face was soaked in your juices with the biggest smile on his face — flashing all his pearly whites
“That was… you’re so” your chest heaved up and down as you stared at him, completely speechless
He laughed at you, sitting up on his knees as he could only stare down at you “you’re perfect”
You didn’t pay attention to the loving tone in his voice as the only thing consuming you was lust. Your eyes trailed his body as you bit your lip. Setting yourself up on the bed for him you took your hand rubbing it up and down your stomach — slowly dragging your hand across the bulge in his loincloth
His breath hitched as he looked down at your hand, you decided to tease him by squeezing it softly causing him to let out a shaky exhale
He looked back at your face taking note of the look on your face “You sure you want it?”
“I don’t want nothing more” you perched yourself up to sit in front of him “I want you”
To Neteyam, your voice was borderline seductive and he couldn’t help but be turned on by you
“Are you positive?” he stroked your cheek with his thumb scanning your face for any dishonesty or discomfort
“Positive” you shook your head giving him the okay
He smashed his lips into yours, the taste of you from just seconds ago still lingering in his mouth. You placed your arms around his neck bringing you back to lay down with you. Your fingers greedily reaching down to the band of his loincloth to get rid of it. He followed your lead as his fingers snuck behind your back to get rid of your top
Sneakily you slid your hand down between your grinding bodies, gripping onto his dick. Smearing precum all over his tip with your thumb
He moaned into your mouth as you sent him soft strokes with your hand, twisting your wrist in a circular motion from his base to tip
He slowly pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his as you panted
“Keep doing that, juuuuusst like that mama” he whimpered placing his head in your chest
You did the best you could, not only because of the position but also from your knowledge. As if he was in your head, he placed his hand on top of yours guiding you
With his hand on top of yours, he helped you twist and tug just how he liked it making him a moaning mess right on top of you
“You make me feel so good” he thrusted into yours guiding hand “gonna make me cum all over your pretty ass”
You blushed at his fucked out statements “Yeah? Give it to me, I’m right here”
His tailed wrapped around your leg as his jaw dropped “Fuckkkk, oh my gosh. I’m gonna cum”
“Do it baby, let go for me” you whispered in his ear giving him firm strokes, squeezing him just the slightest bit
He came on your hand and stomach with a moan, his arm that helped hold up his weight shaking slightly. His forehead pressed against your shoulder blade as you soothed him, helping him through his orgasm
He placed a soft kiss on your neck before backing away to look at your face. You felt him gently grab onto his dick again giving you a quick smile before looking down in between you, probing his tip at your entrance
You looked down as you tried to calm yourself down, it all felt surreal
“Relax, breathe” he placed his hand on your chest catching your attention “I won’t go in until you calm down”
You set your hands on top of his, rubbing it softly as you tried to gain your composure. He was big, like really big. It was one thing to touch him but to have him inside of you was something else
He interlocked your hands together, planting sweet pecks on your lips to calm you. He couldn’t help grinding himself into your wetness, smearing your cum all over each other
You nodded at him, giving him the green light as you squeezing his hand
And with that he guided himself to your slit, sliding himself inside of you. Slowly, very slowly in fear of hurting you more than necessary
You inhaled sharply as you closed in your eyes “It hurts”
“I know baby, I know” he cooed trying his best to calm you with messaging your body gently
You squirmed around as tears pricked your eyes at the stretch, your walls felt like they were set on fire “Make it stop, make it stop”
“I am, I’m gonna make you feel so good. I promise, just hold on to me okay?” he reassured urging you to relax and wrapping your arms around him to bring him close
Inch by inch, he thrusted into you until there was nothing left
“Its so big, oh my eywa you’re so big” you babbled
He grunted at your tightness squeezing him, your warmth welcoming him as your wetness eased him
“Shit girl, you’re so fucking wet” he looked down at your leaking pussy smothering across his pelvis
He adjusted himself on top of you, hovering over you while his abdomen rested on top of yours giving the right amount of friction to your clit with every thrust
“Mhm, Neteyam” you whined thrusting your hips up hinting to him that you wanted him to move
His thickness stretching you out perfectly while his length touched your g spot with every move
It felt so good
He slowly pulled out before thrusting back in firmly making you gasp — doing this over and over again to get you used to the feeling
Your moans becoming pornagraphic as you felt yourself seeing stars. He leaned over to suck on your pretty nipples that perked and poked out, every thrust he sent you causing them to jiggle — making his head spin
He twirled the tip of his tongue along your nipple, wrapping his mouth to suck on the flesh. Your whimpers above him motivating him to speed up his pace inside you
“Yes! yes! yes!” your voice grew with each smack to your sweet spot, he sent fast and deep thrusts. His pelvis brushing along your clit firmly making you shake
He moaned at your pussy gripping him continuously “Feels good?”
“Ohh, you’re fucking me soooo good” you whined, your mouth agape as you tried holding onto anything around you for support
“Yeah? You like that huh?” he grabbed onto your thighs holding them up — the position slipping him even deeper
“Neteyam!” you screamed as he began thrusting wildly inside of you, wet smacking noises increasing throughout the room as his swelled balls slapped against your ass
“Right there! Oh right thereeee” you squealed as he began rolling his hips inside of you, finding the spot inside you that made your vision blur
“I’m so close” he threw his head back — jaw dropping “this pussy’s so good, you feel soooo good mama”
You took in his appearance above you. The way his body began glistening with a thin layer of sweat, his braids loose and free as they framed his gorgeous face perfectly — swaying with every move he made. He was sending you over the edge
“I’m almost there Neteyam” you panted as you kept trying to gain the breath that he was stealing away from you
“Yeah? cum all over me, cum all over this dick” he soothed gripping your neck, holding your neck as he sped up his pace
“FUCK!” you let out a scream as you help onto his wrist, your eyes shutting open and closed repeatedly as your orgasm crashed heavily
“I’m gonna, mhmmm, cumming too” he babbled feeling your cum leak out of your pussy like a waterfall “oh my fucking”
He was cut off as his cum shot right inside of you, letting out a long moan as he softly thrusted himself helping him ride it out
You whimpered and whined as your chest heaved up and down
He slowed himself down completely as he hovered over you catching his breath — looking into your eyes checking for any signs he hurted you. Only to be met with your blissed out smile
He smiled back before sliding out of you and sudden flipping you over onto your stomach
Your eyes widened “What are you doing?” looking back at him with your eyebrow bones furrowed
“You feel too good baby, I need more. Is that okay?” he kneeled behind you as he caressed your hips — his eyes heavy as he stared into your doughy ones
Before another word was spoken, you reached over to hold him up. Pushing your ass into him as he slid into you smoothly from your orgasms. Both of you letting out moans at the feeling
“Shit, can I sta-” you cut him off by roughly throwing your ass back to him
He looked at you shocked as you began fucking yourself onto him. Whines coming out of your mouth as the pleasure from before came rushing back
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” you moved your body back and forth impatiently as you gripped the sheets and toted your ass up in the air for him
“Y’know, I thought you were a good girl” he stopped all your movements with one harsh thrust, you screamed looking back at him as you bit your lip
Sneaking your hand under you, right to where he was sunken inside you. You grabbed onto his balls massaging them softly
He groaned as he began meeting your thrusts halfway
He grabbed onto your hips stopping your movements — gathering spit in his mouth before letting it out his mouth to drop onto your conjoined privates
You smile at him deliriously as he sent you a wink
Suddenly, he pushed your face down into the bed making you gasp. He began giving you hard and deep strokes, better than before as he gained his rhythm inside of you
Your mouth fell agape as you used your strength to push your hips back — making him spiral as he focused on the fat of your ass smacking against him
“Oh great mother!” you sobbed into the pillow as your moans got caught in your throat
“You feel me mama?” he gripped your ass before smacking it
“Yes!! I feel it baby, I feel it” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you continued to meet him halfway, his heavy balls slapping against your clit deliciously
He watched you fall apart right infront of him. His eyes watching your backside like a hawk, his hands rubbing your spine where your tattoo was. Your ass rippling with every thrust as your moans were muffled into the pillow you hid in
“Going dumb on this dick huh?” he breathed out watching himself slide in and out of you, a white ring of cream forming at the base
You babbled to yourself — or to him. He wasn’t really sure. Your fucked out demeanor turning him on more and more as he couldn’t help but lay it down on you
“Neteyam, I love youuuuu” you gasped as if you finally found the breath he snatched from your lungs
You threw your head towards the ceiling, your arms holding you up as you visiously threw your hips back into his as your third orgasm caught up to you
Arching your back the furthest you could for him. Your chest pressed onto the soft sheets as you kneeled on your forearms for support
He grabbed onto your braids for leverage to smash himself into your sweet spot “Just like that, don’t fucking move” his jaw clenched as he sent you the hardest strokes he had the whole night
You chanted his name loudly as he delivered soft smacks to your ass, his thighs smacking against yours. Your juices leaking out of you creating the nastiest squelching noises — if someone walked past it wouldn’t take rocket science to know what was happening
He leaned over your back causing you to moan as he fucked himself deeper inside of you — “I love you mama, you hear me?”
Your jaw dropped as small puddles of drool spilled out of your mouth, trying your best to nod despite the grip he had on your hair
“You’re gonna make me cum again, oh my goshhhh”
He smirked at your pleasure filled face before whimpering into your shoulders “same time baby?”
You screamed as he took his fingers to rub your clit gently, never letting up on his thrusts. The cot rocking below you with such force you were scared it was gonna break — but you couldn’t care less right now
“Oh fuck! Fuck! I’m cumming, i’m cumming” your high pitched scream heard throughout the room as he grunted in your ear
“Me too baby, me too. Make me cum, fuck you make me cum. Gonna nut all inside you” he closed his eyes as his eyes roamed all over pretty body that was given to him
“Neteyam” you mumbled quietly as your orgasm washed over — your body giving out as your legs slipped from underneath you
“I’m right behind you baby, I know you’re tired” he gently rubbed your back as you whimpered into the crease of your arm
“Shit, I’m cumming” he moaned as his thrusts became sloppy before his cum shot inside you for the second time in a row
He huffed out a breath before leaning on your back, being careful not to crush you with his body weight. He nuzzled himself in your neck, soothing you and complimenting you with praises
“You did so good, took me so well”
“You’re the prettiest girl ever, y’know that?”
“I love you, I love you, I love you”
All while kissing over you, your emotions getting the best of you as you teared up at his reassuring words
This man had you so in love
You rolled over onto your back, keeping him close. Your face flushed with tears and mouth covered in spit. Light hickies began forming on your titties while the cum between your legs slowly dried
“You’re the best” you stared at him with love in your eyes — taking your face into your hands to press kisses all over him
“Nah that’s all you” he smiled as you loved on him, holding onto you tightly as if you would fly away “never knew you could be so nasty either”
Your cheeks heated up as the flashbacks from just minutes ago as you tried to hide from him
“Unt unt, don’t try to hide from me now” he teased tickling your sides
“Babe stopppp” you laughed moving your head to the side as you scanned your now messy room
“Shiiitt, it was sexy. Next time I want you all over me” he trailed light kisses across your neck
Your ears perked up at the ‘next time’ — you smiled at the thought
“C’mon let’s clean you up” he removed himself from inside you and got up to stretch before bringing you up with him. Letting you take your time as you sat up, stretching your body out before slowly standing up
“There you go, you got it” he held your hands rubbing them as you sent him a grateful smile at his help
You felt a warm wet sensation running down your legs as your head snapped down, your eyes going right to your sensitive pussy that gushed Neteyam’s cum out of you
You looked back at him with your mouth hanging open and he bit his lip trying not to laugh
“What? I couldn’t help it”
You shook your head at him playfully disappointed, looking his naked body up and down. You pursed your lips before making your way to the watering hole for a well needed bath with him hot on your tail behind you
He smirked — sending a hard slap against your bare ass making you jump and stop in your steps
“Neteyam!” you squealed as the two of you playfully began to wrestle
The rest of the night consisted of the two of you taking turns cleaning each other up while swooned in a bubble of love
But not before you guys did another round.. or maybe two
Amid the demands of being the olo’eyktan’s eldest daughter and a tsahìk-in-training, you find unexpected rest in the company of Toruk Makto’s eldest son.
pairing: neteyam x metkayina!reader
tags: atwow spoilers, friends to lovers, plot, slow burn, mutual pining, avoidant!reader, usual older sibling activity, touchy-feely!neteyam, miscommunication, hurt & comfort, light angst (10.5k wc)
chapters: like real people do, we should just kiss
You knew of the arrival of Toruk Makto’s family long before you saw them.
The news reached you while you were away from Awa’atlu, exactly as your parents intended—sent west to train under another clan’s tsahìk so you might learn more than one way of listening, more than one way of carrying people’s needs. It was a plan decided long before you were old enough to object. The eldest must be prepared. The future must be widened.
Messengers spoke of their arrival in passing, of the Omatikaya seeking refuge among the reef people, of a man who had ridden legend itself into war.
It was a week before your eyes finally found them.
When you returned, the village greeted you as if you had never truly left. Voices rose at the sight of you along the woven paths, hands brushing your arms and shoulders in brief, familiar greetings. That night, your father and mother prepared a larger meal than necessary. It was tradition—one you did not remember beginning, only that it had always been done for you.
Between mouthfuls and murmured approval, you shared what you could, voice steady despite the fatigue still clinging to you. And in return, they told you everything you had missed.
And as always, being home did not mean rest.
“I am certain you have heard of Toruk Makto’s family,” your father said as his gaze settled on you.
You nodded once. Of course you had heard.
“Your brother and sister have begun teaching the children,” he continued. “They do well—but the Omatikaya learn differently. Their roots are in forest and stone, not tide and current.”
You feel your mother’s gaze settle on you, your sibling’s attention following soon after. You busy yourself with another bite of fish, chewing slowly, as if it might delay what is coming. You wondered, briefly, what your mother truly thought of Toruk Makto’s family, and tucked the question away for later.
“They will adapt faster with your guidance.”
There it is.
“I am sure Ao’nung and Tsireya have done well,” you said at last, lifting your gaze toward them. “They know the ways of the water better than most.”
Ao’nung let out a quiet huff at that, rolling his eyes. The sight drew a small chuckle from you before you could stop it.
Tsireya, ever gentle, smiled and leaned forward. “They try,” she said. “They listen. Some learn fast and some forget to keep breath when water grows deep.” She glanced at you then, you could almost see the hope in her expression. “But they wish to learn, That is good beginning.”
You smiled at Tsireya, pride settling warm and familiar in your chest.
“As if,” Ao’nung scoffed before the moment could linger. “They are still like babies. I bet even you cannot teach them how to be better.”
“Yeah? Maybe you’re just a bad teacher,” you shot back, tilting your head to further tease him.
Tsireya joined in before anyone could stop her, a quiet, lilting laugh. “They listen, yes… but sometimes—ehhh.”
Ronal’s hand lifted, a soft but firm shush that cut through the teasing. “Enough, all of you.”
The three of you exchanged glances, chuckles softening into quiet smiles.
“Tomorrow, you will show them how to ride an ilu. You guide them carefully.”
You inclined your head once, shoulders settling under the weight of responsibility that always seemed to arrive with home. “I understand.”
Morning comes with salt on your skin and the sharp tang of the ocean in your lungs. You kneel beside the baskets, sorting the catch you caught earlier that morning with the hunting party.
The catch had been large that day, plentiful enough that the baskets groaned under its weight, scales glinting like liquid sunlight.
“We have missed you, tsmuke,” one of the older hunters called, balancing a particularly large fish. “Big fish come in plenty when you are here.”
“I have missed you too!” you replied lightly, laughing. “Maybe Eywa is kinder this morning, or you are just a really good hunter.”
The group agreed, the sound rolling like the tide over the reef. Your attention, however, was caught by a familiar voice calling from across the sand.
“Sister! Come quickly!”
Tsireya jogs toward you, water dripping from her hair, eyes bright. Behind her, farther back along the edge of the shallows, you could see the Sully children, their skin a darker, richer blue than yours.
“Ready for your lesson?” Tsireya called, slowing as she approached. “They’re waiting, and I think they are quite curious about you. They keep asking.”
You hesitated, hands still tangled in the nets, the baskets of the morning catch at your feet. The warmth of routine tugged at you—the familiar weight of the day’s work, the laughter of friends, the steady rhythm of the reef under your skin. It felt good to return to this, even if only for a moment, and part of you wanted to linger, just a little longer.
Tsireya, patient at first, let her frustration show in the softest way. She stepped closer and tugged gently at your wrists, removing your hands from the nets. “Please,” she urged, voice light but firm. “Come now. They will not wait forever.”
You looked back at your friends, offering a small, fleeting smile. “I… will be back soon,” you promised.
With nothing left to stall you, you set the nets aside and began walking with her, feeling the subtle pull of responsibility settle over your shoulders once again. The Sully children shifted slightly, curious eyes fixed on you, and you allowed yourself one last glance at the morning’s catch and the laughing hunters.
The Sully children greeted you in unison, their hands moved in the careful gesture of “Oel ngati kameie.” You returned the greeting, offering a smile.
From their vantage, it was easy to see why Tsireya had spoken of you with such excitement. Like her, you were beautiful but where Tsireya’s beauty was open and bright, yours carried a quieter maturity. Even before you spoke your presence held authority, it reminded them of your mother when they first came. And unlike her, whose sharpness was well known, you had shown them no hostility at all.
Some features mirrored your siblings, but one mark set you apart unmistakably. The tattoo, black and intricate, traced one half of your forehead and extended toward your cheekbone, earned first as the eldest upon completing your iknimaya. It marked your seniority, a quiet sign that you had already walked the path your younger siblings were just beginning.
Ao’nung’s voice cut through the quiet moment, impatient as ever. “We going or not?”
You exchanged a glance with Tsireya, and both of you let out quiet chuckles.
“Alright,” you couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at your lips as your eyes flicked to Ao’nung. “Looks like someone is the most excited.”
The Sully children fought to suppress their smiles, chuckles spilling out despite their best efforts. Ao’nung finally stomped forward, muttering something under his breath, and you laughed at him softly.
You lingered a moment, letting them move ahead, their footsteps stirring the sand beneath the shallow water. Only once they had gone a few paces did you follow, letting Ao’nung take the lead.
A small sigh escaped you, soft enough that only Eywa could hear. Grant me patience today. Today would be long, you knew, but necessary.
Your siblings moved with practiced ease, each stepping toward one of the Sully children. The group slowly divided, voices overlapping with quiet instruction and encouragement, until you found yourself standing apart.
The smallest of them lingered near the water’s edge, eyes darting between her brothers and sisters as they were led away. Excitement practically spilled from her—fidgeting hands, bouncing steps, a tail that betrayed her eagerness even as she tried to stay still.
Warmth bloomed in your chest at the sight.
You beckoned her closer with an open hand. “Come here, little one,”
She hesitated only a moment before padding toward you, bouncing slightly to move faster. As she reached you, her hand lifted instinctively, fingers stretching toward yours. You caught it, steadying her before she could stumble, her grip small but eager in your palm.
She looked up at you then, eyes bright, breath quick with excitement.
“Fyape syaw fko ngar?” you asked. What is your name?
“Tuktirey,” she said proudly, then quickly added, softer, “But you can call me Tuk.”
She proved to be an eager student from the start, curiosity spilling from her. You answered each question without hurry, never growing tired of her wonder. There was no fear in her, only excitement, and it made the lesson flow easily.
“See how it circles first?” you said softly, nodding toward the ilu gliding nearby. “Ilus are very curious beings. They are trying to know you.”
Tuk’s fingers curled in the water as she watched it, eyes wide. “Is it looking at me?”
“Yes,” you smiled.
She nodded solemnly, then whispered, “What does it like?”
“Kind hands,” you replied. “Slow breath. And respect. Ilu are not tools, they are partners. They help us hunt, travel, protect the reef. Without them, the ocean is harder to listen to.”
You clicked your tongue and whistled. The ilu’s head lifted slightly, turning toward the sound.
“They also like gliderfins,” you added.
Tuk glanced at the ilu again, awe softening her features. “Do they like playing?”
You laughed. “Some do. Especially the young ones. I think this one is just as young as you.”
She reached out again, more careful this time, brushing the ilu’s skin just as you showed her. The creature responded with a low, pleased trill, and Tuk’s face lit up.
“It likes you too now,” you said gently.
Her smile grew impossibly wide.
For a while, it was easier than you had expected. Once Tuk had grown comfortable with the ilu, you began teaching her how to ride, guiding her through each step.
You soon called Roxto over from where he had been teaching Kiri, thinking the youngest should stay within reach of her older siblings. He joined you without fuss, and Kiri followed easily. She was good company—quiet at first, then comfortable with a few exchanged words. You noticed how at ease she seemed around Roxto, and you couldn’t help thinking he was one of the few good friends Ao’nung kept.
“You’ve been very kind,” Kiri said as she glanced between her brothers then back at you, eyes bright with barely-contained amusement. “But I think… my brothers might need you more right now.”
She tipped her chin toward them, lips pressed together as she tried not to smile. One was struggling to find balance, slipping again and again, while the other had already gone rushing off too fast only to tumble into the water. Kiri ducked her head, a quiet laugh escaping despite her effort to stay composed.
You winced as one of her brothers was promptly rewarded with a splash of water straight to the face when the ilu darted away. Even you had to turn your head for a moment, shoulders shaking with restrained laughter.
“I see” you said, still smiling as the laughter faded from your breath. Your eyes flicked briefly to Roxto, a silent understanding passing between you, before you looked back at the girls.
“You’re in good hands,” you told Tuk and Kiri gently, giving them one last reassuring nod. Then you turned and waded toward the others, already bracing yourself as another splash and a string of complaints rang out from the group ahead.
That’s how you find yourself in charge of the oldest Sully, Neteyam—whose name you’d learned from Kiri. Tsireya had told you so much about Lo’ak the night before that you wouldn’t dare steal her chance to spend time with the other boy.
“You are not in the forest anymore,” you said softly, surfacing through the water where Neteyam had just fallen from the ilu. Your eyes swept over him quickly, taking in his posture, the set of his shoulders, checking for any real injury.
Frustration seeped through his expression despite himself. His nose scrunched, gaze shifting away from you as you called for the ilu to return. The tilt of his jaw and the tension in his arms told you he was used to control and was not used to being unseated so easily.
“I know,” he snapped, wiping the water from his face with a quick swipe of hand.
You went silent, tending to the ilu instead, letting him work through it without adding pressure. The water lapped quietly against your arms, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.
After a moment, he spoke again, quieter this time. “Sorry… I’m just not used to this.”
You looked back at him then, and heat crept into your chest. It was embarrassing to admit, but you found him… personable. Even now, after only knowing each other for a while, there was a weight to him—different from any Metkayina you had known. His sharp features and darker skin marked him as not one of your people, and yet, somehow, that made him easier to watch, easier to notice than you had intended. You caught yourself looking at him more often than you liked, a small, guilty awareness settling in your stomach.
“It’s alright,” you said, eyes steady on him. “But you are trying to fly. Ilus do not fly.”
He scrunched his face at your words, and you allowed yourself a small, amused smile.
“It is like your ikran, yes,” you continued. “But flying isn’t the way with an ilu. You do not fight against the water, as it would only pull you under. You go with it. Feel the current, its weight, its flow. The water is the ilu’s home; try to make it yours.”
“Again,” you mentioned for him to mount once more. He hesitated only a second before obeying, settling onto its back with more care than before—but still too stiff.
“No,” you nagged, moving into his space. “You are holding yourself like you expect to fall.”
Before he could respond, you reached out. One hand pressed lightly between his shoulder blades, encouraging him to lean forward just enough, while the other adjusted his grip—fingers loosening, then settling where they should be.
“And remember,” you added, “tsaheylu is trust. That is more important than holding tight.”
The moment tsaheylu is formed, the ilu stilled. He drew in a slow breath, shoulders relaxing, and then he looked at you as if he’s waiting.
For a heartbeat, his world seemed to hold. Salt air, sun on water, the way light caught the planes of your face just right.
You met his gaze and gave a single nod.
“Go,” you said simply.
You stepped back, giving him space as the ilu surged forward once more. This time, he moved with it, posture aligned, body following the current instead of fighting it. Water parted cleanly around them, and he stayed mounted.
You had spent the past month helping the Sully children adjust to life among the reef—teaching them your way of living, showing them how to move with the ilu, guiding their eager hands through the unfamiliar waters. It had been exhausting in the best way: laughter, splashes, and small victories marking each day, and yet, you still cherished moments where no pressure or responsibility rested on your shoulders.
Later, when the sun dipped lower and the lessons were done, you found yourself sitting cross-legged beside Tsireya in your family’s marui pod. Strands of dried kelp and polished shells spread between you. Your fingers worked from habit, weaving and knotting as easily as breathing, the familiar rhythm easing the last of the day’s tension from your shoulders.
Tsireya hummed softly as she helped you thread a line of shells together, passing them to you one by one. “You always choose the prettiest pieces,” she said, smiling.
“They last longer,” you replied. “And they sit better against the skin.”
She nodded, watching your hands for a moment before glancing up at you, eyes bright with something playful. “So,” she began carefully, as if it were only a passing thought, “what do you think?”
Your hands slowed, just slightly.
You resumed your work after a moment, fingers tightening a knot before moving on to the next strand. “They are… fine,” you said evenly. “A handful, but that is nothing new to me.”
It was the truth. You had stood beside your mother and the elder clan members when voices rose and patience thinned, when children pushed limits and learned the weight of correction. Compared to that, the Sully children were spirited—yes—but hardly unmanageable.
Tsireya huffed a quiet laugh, tilting her head. “You know what I mean.”
“Do I?” you asked innocently. “You asked about the family. I answered.”
She narrowed her eyes at you, a smile tugging at her mouth.
You finally glanced up at her then, a soft chuckle slipping past your lips. “Just ask what you want to ask, Tsireya.”
She opened her mouth, then hesitated.
You smiled wider, unable to resist. “Or maybe you cannot,” you added lightly, “because you know I will ask something in return.”
Tsireya groaned, half-laughing as she shook her head. “You are impossible.”
You shrugged lightly, a small, knowing smirk tugging at your lips. You had learned long ago that your little sister would never be able to stop herself from asking.
“Neteyam,” she finally said, “I noticed… you always seem to go to him first.”
You let the moment hang for just a beat, then replied, tilting your head slightly, “Well, I am more fit to teach the most difficult of them.” Your lips curved into a teasing smirk. “But you seem to handle him… quite well already.”
Tsireya flushed slightly, averting her gaze. “Don’t make this about me!”
You tilted your head, smirk softening into something gentler. “Well, he is easy to teach. A fast learner,” you said, fingers brushing lightly over the shells as you continued working. “And, we seem to relate to each other more.”
She peeked at you from the corner of her eye, curiosity breaking through her flustered expression. “So… you’ve talked a lot to each other then?”
You paused, brow lifting in mild confusion, standing to grab more shells from your mother’s basket—always the bigger, more useful pieces. “What’s with the questions?” you asked, a hint of amusement in your voice.
“Just curious.”
“Right…”
You can see her hovering before she then leaned a little closer, lowering her voice. “He is handsome, no?”
You rolled your eyes, chuckling. “Just help me with this, ‘Reya,” you said lightly, returning your attention to the shells.
Of course you wouldn’t say it.
Not after all the times you had teased Tsireya about Lo’ak—about the way her eyes followed him even when she pretended otherwise, about how quickly she volunteered to help whenever his name was mentioned.
And it was not as if it were a bad thing to admit he is handsome.
You had heard it from Kiri, as she told stories from when they were in the forest, that many of the na’vi girls admired him, that Neteyam Sully had always drawn attention without ever seeming to seek it. You supposed that made sense.
Handsome, yes, but more than that, simply… good company.
That was all.
And even that truth stayed tucked behind your teeth, because saying it aloud would tell Tsireya more than she was asking. It would tell her about how lessons sometimes stretched past their ending, how paths crossed again when everyone else scattered to their own corners of the reef.
At first, it had been a coincidence.
You had been tasked with cleaning the dishes after the evening meal, your hands submerged in cool water near the shallow edge, your thoughts far away. You hadn’t noticed him at first, only the faint shift of movement in your periphery.
When you looked up, he was there. Sitting on one of the larger rocks half-submerged by the tide.
You did not know what possessed you to call out to him. Perhaps it might help him feel more at ease here, in a place that was not yet his.
You called his name then, standing and lifting your arm higher so he could see. “Neteyam!”
He looked up then, surprise flickering briefly across his face. After a moment, he rose from the rock and made his way toward you, careful steps sending small ripples through the shallows.
As he drew closer, you could see his bioluminescent markings better for the first time. It’s something you had seen on countless others, yet something about his made your chest tighten. It was a foolish thought, you told yourself. You had grown up surrounded by Na’vi; there was nothing new in this. And still, you found yourself admiring it just long enough before he could notice.
He stopped at your side and glanced down at the dishes, then back at you. “Do you… need help?” he asked, gesturing toward the stack.
“Ah, you do not have to,” you shook your head slightly, the question catching you off guard.
He smiled anyway, already lowering himself into a squat. “I don’t mind.”
You tilted your head, watching the ease of his movements as he reached for one of the bowls. “I am guessing you do this often?”
He let out a quiet huff of a laugh, rinsing the dish with a practiced swirl of his hands. “Too often,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “At this point, I just volunteer before anyone can tell me to.”
That earned a small smile from you. “I wonder how many times I would need to be told before I start volunteering myself.”
“It is better that way,” he replied, grin softening. “Less arguing. And it is nice to have time alone, if you are into that.”
It should have ended there. You both were there at the same time during that night and you weren’t expecting it to happen again.
Instead, it became routine.
There was never an agreement spoken between you, no glance that lingered long enough to promise anything, no words exchanged when the lessons ended and the others drifted away to their own activities. And yet, somehow, you would find him again. Near the shallows. By the rocks. In the ocean.
The reef was wide, but somehow your paths crossed easily. And you thought it was because he was new here, after all, still learning where to belong.
One evening, he had asked about your tattoo. You had been sharpening your speargun’s bows atop a rock set slightly apart from the clustered marui pods. The sun had dipped low, painting the reef in golds and soft purples. You didn’t bother asking how he had found you.
His eyes lingered on the dark ink tracing one half of your forehead as he sat beside you, your knees knocking into each other when one moved. He hovered his hand close, almost brushing the skin above the tattoo, the heat of his skin radiating toward your cheek made your face tingle. You were startled by the sensation, and yet you didn’t move away.
You told him of your iknimaya, how you earned the mark after taming your tsurak, your first great hunt, and the bonding with your tulkun spirit sister. Your words carry all the pride of that path you had walked. And he listened, attentively, eyes widening at each detail, absorbing it as though it were a story meant for him alone.
“The fish was nearly bigger than me,” you said, hands stretching apart in the air. “It could have dragged me through the water.”
Neteyam let out a low, impressed sound, eyes following the movement of your hands. “You caught it anyway,” he said, something warm in his voice. “That takes strength.”
You shrugged, though a small smile curved your lips. “And multiple tries.”
He smiled back at that. “Still,” he added, glancing once more at the tattoo before meeting your gaze, “you earned it.”
You asked for his story in return, and he had told you about it, his first hunts and the rituals in the forest, the taste of water after it had flowed from the leaves, the way the sunlight would peak from the branches, the wind tangling his hair as he flew between big rocks of Ayram alusìng.
You found yourself imagining it all, the brightness in him when he was truly in his element, bathed in sunlight and shadow, how he looked among the trees, and a quiet, selfish wish that you could see it for yourself.
Then you noticed the waiting. Oh, how much you disliked it. The way your eyes would drift toward the water’s edge before your hands were even dry. The brief pause in your steps when the sun dipped low, anticipation settling in your chest before you were fully aware of it. You found yourself expecting him—half-listening for the sound of careful footsteps, half-watching for the familiar silhouette against the tide. How he slipped into your evening as naturally as the tide returning to shore.
And, quietly, almost shamefully, you wished he suffered from it too.
You told yourself it was nothing more than familiarity. That it had been a long time since you’d had company like this. That Neteyam was a good friend. With him, your words did not need to be softened or guarded. You spoke, and he understood. You existed, and he did not ask you to be anything else.
“You work too hard.”
You huffed a quiet laugh, seated in your usual place—the far side of the reef where the marui pods thinned and the waves struck the rocks hard enough to leave salt in the air. A large stone jutted from the shallows there, smoothed by time and tide, where you and him have told stories long enough for it to finally become yours without ceremony.
You were rubbing a thick, pale salve into your palms, the scent of crushed leaves and rendered fat clinging to your skin. It was a simple mixture of soothing oils and ground kelp you helped your mother make, meant to ease the sting left behind by too many hours of handling rough nets, and hauling, knotting, weaving alongside your father and brother.
That was before you heard his steps before you saw him, the soft scrape of feet against stone and wet sand so familiar now that it made your shoulders ease even before you turned. When you did, he was already close.
You flinched when he reached for you, instinct tightening your shoulders before you could stop it. For a heartbeat, you considered pulling away.
But he didn’t rush you. He waited—close, quiet, clearly wanting to help. You were close enough that you knew he’d scold you if you refused, and you were tired enough that you didn’t want to argue. Your hands throbbed anyway.
So you let him take them.
“I had to,” you said quietly. “You know why.”
He looked up at you then. Just understanding. The kind that came from being the eldest, from carrying expectations that were never asked for but always assumed. From being told, again and again, to be steady, to watch, to protect. His hands never stopped moving, thumbs pressing the salve into your skin.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” you admitted, words tumbling out before you could stop them. “No matter how much I learn. The chants, the rituals, the histories—I memorize them, repeat them until they sit perfectly in my mouth, and still…” You exhaled, shaky. “I look at my mother and all I feel is how small I am next to her.”
You swallowed. “They say I will make a good tsahìk someday. That it is only a matter of time.” Your fingers curled faintly in his hold. “But I do not feel driven. I feel afraid. And I hate that—because I should want it. I should be ready.”
Neteyam stayed quiet for a moment, covering the last exposed part of your hand with balm. Then, carefully, he brought both of your hands into one of his own. You hadn’t realized how close you were sitting, but as he scooched slightly neared, any remaining distance vanished. You kept your gaze on your hands, feeling the heat of his palm spread into yours.
After a long breath, his other hand hovered for a heartbeat above your hair, which had fallen to the sides of your face as you looked down, hiding a little of yourself. Gently, hesitantly, he brushed the strands back, tucking them behind your ear.
“Being scared does not mean you are unworthy of what they see in you,” he murmured, voice low and steady, as though he were speaking to himself as much as to you. “It means you understand how much it matters.”
He gave a small squeeze of your hands. “Your mother stands where she does because she walked through that fear. Not because she never felt it. And you do not need to be her—not now, not ever.”
At that, he lifted your chin gently between his fingers, tilting your face so you could meet his eyes. There was a telltale flicker of nervousness in the way his jaw tensed and the corners of his mouth twitched, but it was subtle, and you barely registered it. You only noticed the warmth of his hands, the care in his touch.
Neteyam’s gaze held yours, as if to remind you that nothing was demanded beyond this moment. “When the time comes, you will not wake up ready. You will step forward afraid. And that will not mean you are failing. It will mean you are brave.”
“You only have to keep going,” he said, finally placing both of his hands over yours, encasing them between his. “ And you do not have to do that alone.”
Your eyes flickered from his gaze down to your hands, still held in his, before returning to him. He tilted his head slightly, a small, playful smirk tugging at his lips.
“Come on,” he said your name softly, teasing, “let me see your smile.”
It took a moment, but you allowed yourself a slow, reluctant smile. “Where’d you learn that?” you asked, amusement in your voice.
“My mother,” the pride in his tone was unmistakable.
You couldn’t help but admire him then, as you have been doing quite often, bathed in the silver glow of the moonlight, his bioluminescent patterns tracing faint dots across his skin, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes as he spoke.
“Is something wrong?” he asked softly after a moment, concern in his voice. His hand lifted, brushing gently over the space between your eyes, as if to soothe the lingering tension there.
You let out a light laugh, gently pushing his hand away. “No,” you said, meeting his gaze. “I’m fine.”
Your eyes held his for a moment longer, steady and sincere, before you signed the word carefully—hand moving from your chin outward in the motion for thank you. “Thank you, Neteyam.”
He followed the motion with his gaze, eyes flicking to your mouth for a brief second as your hand reached forward, and a small, appreciative smile tugged at his lips.
“Always.”
You knew someone would eventually notice why it sometimes took you longer to wash the dishes, or why fetching something your parents had asked for seemed to stretch on forever. You’d been careful these past nights, cautious when returning from your meetings with Neteyam, pausing at the edges of the marui pods to make sure no family member was lingering outside.
But that night, you hadn’t been as discreet as you thought. Carrying the balm back to your pod, a smile tugging at your lips and a lighter step in your pace, you froze when you heard your father’s voice calling your name.
“You’ve been gone a long time,” his voice carrying that quiet edge of concern that always made your stomach tighten.
“Just… busy,” you said, shrugging lightly, “thinking.”
Internally, you let out a small sigh of relief as you saw him nod slightly, seeming to accept the excuse. He stepped closer, placing both hands gently on your shoulders, his thumbs brushing against your skin with a familiar, grounding touch.
Then, unexpectedly, he knelt down on one knee, letting go with one hand as he waited, gaze intent on yours. Confusion flickered across your features.
“You can tell me anything, maite,” he said softly, voice low but full of warmth.
A small, soft smile tugged at your lips, and you chuckled quietly, not surprised by his theatrics.
“I know, sempu,” you replied, touching one of his hands resting on your shoulder. “You always tell me that.”
He straightened, smiling now, the weight of the day easing from his expression. “Good. I was just worried. Now, come inside. It’s late.”
You nodded, though a pang of guilt tugged at your chest. You hadn’t told him about Neteyam, about the small stolen moments that made the days feel lighter, the hands brushing balm into yours. But it wasn’t something your parents needed to worry about—at least, that’s what you told yourself.
Your relationship with him and with the rest of the Sully children had grown in these past weeks. There were long afternoons spent chatting with the girls about everything and nothing, weaving strands of kelp and shells into necklaces, bracelets, and little adornments inspired by the reef.
You had been especially proud when Tuk finished her first necklace entirely on her own. She pressed it into your hands proudly, and you couldn’t say no. It was a delicate little thing, shades of purple and blue catching the fading light, and you wore it with a smile that carried your pride.
Kiri’s progress was slower but steady, and you were happy to hear she was doing better—though not without complaints, especially when it came to your younger brother. You could only do so much as his older sister, after all.
And then there were the moments teasing Tsireya about Lo’ak, which never failed to make her blush.
“Lo’ak’s been making me teach him how to make a necklace,” Kiri said one afternoon, half-annoyed, half-amused. “It’s probably to impress you, Tsireya.”
You laughed, the sound easy and light. “How sweet,” you said, watching them fumble with threads and shells, the reef sun glinting off their hair, their smiles, and their earnest attempts.
As for Lo’ak, he was just as difficult as Kiri had made him out to be, but at his age, it was hardly surprising. You saw too much of your younger brother with him: the quiet desire to be seen and admired even when it came out as trouble. Still, there was something almost endearing about it.
You only hoped he wasn’t giving your younger sister too much headache.
And, you almost took the thought back one day as Tuk came barreling toward you, breathless and wide-eyed, tugging at your arm and babbling about her brothers fighting other metkayina.
Sure enough, when you followed her and looked at where she pointed at, you found ruckus sprawled out on the farther edge of the village—sand flying, voices raised, bodies tangled in a way that was far more chaotic than threatening.
“Ao’nung!” you shouted, stopping at the edge of the mess.
Your eyes caught Kiri on the sidelines. She only shrugged at you, utterly confused as well, before calling out, “Stupid!” and laughing like it was all entertainment.
You sighed, rolled your eyes, and shouted Ao’nung’s name again, louder this time. It finally pulled a few heads your way—just long enough for someone to get yanked backward by the tail and another to catch a careless punch for losing focus.
You might have laughed if you weren’t painfully aware of the scolding waiting for you later. After all, you were supposed to be the one watching out for them.
Luckily, or perhaps mercifully, their father arrived before things could spiral any further. His presence alone was enough to cut through the chaos, his voice sharp and commanding as he stepped in, hands separating bodies, pulling his sons back with Kiri on their tail.
You didn’t catch the look Neteyam sent your way then. Your attention was already on your own brother, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him upright when he nearly stumbled back into the fray. He tried to wrench himself free, teeth bared, clearly mistaking you for one of his friends.
You hissed sharply, grip tightening. “Skxawng,” you snapped under your breath, eyes narrowing. “What did you do?”
Before your brother could answer, one of Ao’nung’s friends spoke up from behind him, voice loud and indignant. “Lo’ak started it—”
“I didn’t ask you,” you cut in sharply, turning to look at his group of friends. Your tone was calm, but it carried enough bite to make him falter. “Go. Get yourself treated by tsahìk.”
They hesitated, exchanging glances, clearly unused to being dismissed so easily. When none of them moved, you rolled your eyes and stepped closer to Ao’nung instead.
Your fingers brushed lightly beneath his eye, where a bruise was already darkening. He hissed and jerked back on instinct, and you finally released your grip on his arm.
“Why do you assume it was me?” he demanded, scowling. At your silence—at the way you only frowned at him, confused more than accusatory—his expression twisted. “Don’t tell me you’re going to side with those freaks.”
“Ao’nung,” you snapped, his name a warning all on its own. “Enough. Come with me. That bruise will swell if you leave it.”
He scoffed, turning away and starting off in the opposite direction.
“Ao’nung,” you called again.
He didn’t stop—but neither did any of his friends move to follow him. You glanced back at them, lifting a brow in silent challenge, daring any of them to speak. None did. One by one, they started to follow your brother.
You watched him walk away and for a brief moment you wondered if there had been something you could have said to stop him from spitting those words.
The thought didn’t linger long as your mind was already racing ahead of the inevitable, your mother’s voice, sharp with disappointment, the weight of it settling heavier than any bruise. With a quiet exhale, you turned back toward your marui pod.
You felt as though you were walking on eggshells as you stepped inside your mother’s marui pod.
Her back was turned to you, shoulders relaxed but purposeful, hands busy sorting through bundles of dried leaves and woven pouches. The familiar scents of herbs and ocean-salt clung to the air, usually comforting—now making your chest tighten. You moved slowly, carefully, each step measured as if the floor itself might betray you.
Quietly, you crossed to her storage chest and lifted the lid just enough to peer inside, fingers hovering over the neatly arranged jars of healing balms. You held your breath.
“What are you doing?” she asked without turning.
“Just—checking,” you said, voice soft. “Seeing if we still have enough healing balm.”
She finally glanced over her shoulder, eyes sharp but calm. “For what, child?”
You paused, shoulders sagging slightly as you exhaled. “Ao’nung and his friends… they got into trouble. With Lo’ak and Neteyam.”
Her hands stilled.
“What happened?” she asked, tone leaving no room for deflection.
You felt the fight drain out of you at once. There was no point in circling it, so you had told her of what happened. You didn’t know what caused the fight, but you told her everything you know.
The words settled heavy between you, and you waited for whatever would come next.
Your mother let out a long, tired sigh, the kind that carried more weight than anger ever could.
“Get whatever you need,” she said, “then come sit with me.”
You did as you were told. You gathered the jars of balm and set them aside before lowering yourself to the woven mat across from her, legs folded neatly beneath you. You knew better than to look anywhere else when she spoke like this. So you lifted your chin, met her gaze, and waited.
“Why did you let him go without treating him?” she asked.
You didn’t answer. You also knew better than to argue, sitting in silence as the weight of her words settled over you.
“You know your brother tends to seek trouble,” she continued, her hands frantically moving. “You should have been there to stop him.”
Even though you knew it was impossible to be everywhere at once, the blame sank into your chest like a stone. You promised yourself silently that you would do better next time. You thought back to the look your brother had given you before walking away—the hurt, the accusation—and it stung more. You wish to know what you could have done differently.
After a long moment, you lowered your gaze and whispered, “I’m sorry, mother… I’ll do better. I promise.”
For a moment, she said nothing.
“When they first came to us,” she began at last, voice calm but edged with honesty, “I was hesitant. They are of the forest. What use are forest skills in the reef? What could they offer our people, other than more mouths to protect?”
“Your father feared something else,” she continued. “That Toruk Makto would bring his war with him. That his enemies would follow. And you know this—your father and I are charged with keeping our people safe. Even when kindness is costly.”
She looked at you then, truly looked, and something softer entered her expression.
“But that is not why we turned them away,” she said quietly. “Nor why we chose to welcome them in the end.” Her voice lowered, thoughtful, measured like a lesson meant to last. “We gave them a home because the ocean does not ask where the rain was born. It only knows that all water returns.”
Her hand came to rest over her heart.
“They came seeking refuge, willing to learn, willing to bow their heads to ways not their own. And people who can do that are not weak.”
You felt something loosen in your chest as she spoke, answers to questions you had carried far longer than you realized.
“As Tsahìk,” she said, “I do not look only at who someone was. I look at who they are trying to become. And Eywa listens to those who choose growth over pride. Your brother does not realize it yet. He is young. But you, you can let him know.”
Her gaze softened, but it did not waver. “Remember that, child.”
You let her words settle, each one sinking deep, weaving itself quietly into you. For a moment, the sting of blame eased, softened by her steady presence, though it still lingered faintly at the edges. You marveled at how she could turn even this into a lesson, how every moment with her became a stepping stone rather than a reprimand. With her, nothing was wasted. Every mistake, every fear, every conflict was shaped into something that could guide you forward.
You realized, with a warmth that spread through your chest, how grateful you were to have her as your mother. To be taught not just how to heal wounds, but how to see people.
You nodded, a small hesitant smile forming as you met her eyes. “Yes, Mother. Thank you.”
She returned the smile then said, “Now go on, call them. I will be out for a while.”
Helping her to stand, you offered your arm, mindful of her pregnancy as she rose slowly. She brushed a hand over your head once more, a gentle, lingering caress, before letting you go.
“Be careful,” she added.
“You too, Ma,” you said as you stepped back outside the pod.
It didn’t take long to find Neteyam. He was seated on the walkway in front of their marui pod, one leg swinging lazily over the edge as he gazed out at the water.
When he saw you call his name, his face brightened instantly. Without hesitation, he pushed himself up, legs folding neatly beneath him for a moment before standing fully. Careful, measured steps carried him toward you, the familiar rhythm of his movements making your chest ease despite the tension still lingering from your earlier conversation with your mother.
You reached up slowly, hands resting on his shoulders as you studied him, eyes travelling over the tense line of his jaw and the slight swell of his bruises. “You don’t look fine,” you said, a mix of concern and exasperation in your tone.
He tilted his head, smirking, a trace of humor lighting his features. “Well, I look better than your brother’s friends.”
You couldn’t help it, a soft laugh escaped you as you smacked the top of his head playfully. Then, grabbing his wrist, you tugged him gently back toward the tsahìk’s pod. “Doesn’t seem like you regret what happened earlier,” you said, glancing at him briefly before turning your attention to weaving through the Metkayina passing by.
Neteyam shrugged, his grin widening. “Only a bit,” he said, his eyes never leaving the back of your head as you led the way.
His wrist, which you still held, eased slowly until his hand finally rested on yours. You didn’t look back, but the warmth of his hand and the pressure of his fingers fitting against yours made your own smile widen. You didn’t let go, and neither did he.
Once inside the pod, Neteyam settled onto the woven mat, shoulders slumped just enough for you to see the tension in them. You knelt in front of him, jars of salves and cloths spread around you, the soft scent of herbs filling the small space.
You dipped a cloth in the water and began gently cleaning the dried blood along his cheekbones. He flinched away just a little at your touch. Frowning, you held his face lightly with your hands to keep him from moving.
“What happened?” you asked softly, eyes scanning his bruises.
“My brother… he was being a skxawng,” he replied shortly.
You paused, raising a brow. He said nothing further, his gaze flicking to the floor.
“You’re not going to tell me more?” you prompted gently.
Neteyam shook his head, offering a small, reassuring smile. “You don’t have to worry about it. I’ve got it handled.”
You rolled your eyes at him but didn’t respond, bending closer to continue cleaning the stubborn bruise along his cheek. Every so often, his gaze caught yours, steady and curious, and each time you quickly dropped your eyes back to the cloth, pretending to be entirely absorbed in the task.
You only notice the slight tremor of your hand, and the faster beats of your heart when you finally reach the dried blood at the corner of his lips. Carefully, you dabbed at the skin, very much aware of the small space between you.
Don’t you dare speak. You chant in your head as you do, because you know that if he speaks, it’s over—
“You’re very gentle,” he murmured in a low, breathy tone. His breath fanned across your knuckles, sending a shiver through you. Your eyes instinctively move toward his lips. And, you suddenly became conscious of him adjusting the loose pearl accessory of your necklace with quiet fingers. Just right above your heart.
It was all too much, every sense alert, but you didn’t pull away. This was your responsibility; as a future Tsahìk, you would not let it unnerve you! You swallow, forcing yourself to stay focused on the task at hand, determined to finish tending to him before your thoughts betrayed you further.
When you finally pulled back slightly, you felt his hand graze your collarbone as he let go of the pearl. Taking a quiet, internal pep talk, you grabbed the balm and faced him again. The small, teasing smirk on his face irked you—you could almost see him enjoying this torment.
Finally, you broke the silence as you pressed the balm gently into the abrasions along his skin. “Why did you join them?” you asked, your voice quieter than before, but edged with something sharper. “I thought you were supposed to be the responsible one.”
Neteyam’s jaw tightened. For a moment, you thought he might pull away. Instead, he stayed still, eyes flicking anywhere but your face. “I… had to,” he said, the words barely more than a breath.
You felt something twist in your chest. You pushed, unable to stop yourself. “No,” you said, firmer now. “You didn’t have to. If you had stopped your brother, it wouldn’t have escalated. None of this would’ve happened.”
The moment the words left you, you wanted them back.
He finally looked at you then. Not angry. Not defensive. Just tired. Hurt. “So you’re saying it’s my fault?”
Your hands stilled, the cloth hovering uselessly between you. The air felt too tight to breathe in. “That’s not—” You swallowed. “That’s not what I mean.”
But the damage was already done.
He nodded once, slowly, as if accepting something he hadn’t wanted to hear. His shoulders eased—not in relief, but resignation. “Right,” he murmured, and his gaze dropped again, shutting you out.
Silence settled heavy and suffocating between you. You forced your hands to move, to finish what you’d started, even as your chest ached with every careful touch. Neither of you spoke. The tension didn’t fade—it pressed in, filling every corner of the pod.
When you were done, you pulled away and returned the cloths, jars, and balm to their places. The soft clink of pottery sounded too loud in the quiet, each noise echoing like a reminder of what you’d broken. You straightened, drawing in a slow breath, foolishly hoping that he might say something. Anything.
Instead, you heard him rise behind you, the woven mat shifting beneath his feet.
“I have to go,” he said quickly, as if staying even a second longer would undo him.
You didn’t turn around. You only exhaled, the breath leaving you heavier than it should have. His footsteps faded, and with them went something fragile you hadn’t realized you were holding onto.
And somehow, despite knowing better, a sharp, unwanted pang of disappointment bloomed in your chest. You didn’t know why you’d expected him to stay after that.
The truth struck you all at once, merciless in its clarity: you had taken your own fears, your own sense of responsibility, and placed them squarely on his shoulders. You had expected him to be steady when you were unraveling, to bear the weight of expectations that were never his alone.
The guilt settled deep, sour and crushing, curling tight around your heart.
You let your shoulders slump, fingers curling uselessly at your sides. The pod felt smaller now, the silence louder, pressing in from all directions. And you couldn’t shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, you had made this harder than it needed to be for both of you.
If things couldn’t get any worse, your brother took Lo’ak beyond the reef.
The news reached you as the sun dipped low, the sky bruised with fading light. The earlier confusion over Ao’nung’s words resurfacing at the back of your mind, along with Neteyam and your mother’s words. It all tangled together until it curdled into something raw and frustrating.
By the time dinner was served, your patience was already threadbare.
“So,” you said at last, not looking at him, “did it ever occur to you that you put his life in danger when you brought him there?”
He shrugged. “He seemed fine. You’re overreacting.”
That did it. You finally looked at him then, eyes sharp. “You don’t get to decide that,” you said quietly. “Not when everyone else has to deal with the consequences.”
He pushed his food away, irritation flashing across his face. “Why are you suddenly on my back about this?”
Tonowari’s voice cut cleanly through the air before you could answer.
“That is enough.”
His gaze moved between you and your brother, heavy with expectation. “Your mother has already told me you were to tend to both Neteyam and Lo’ak,” he said. “So I will ask plainly—how did the boy end up with Ao’nung?”
The question turned, subtly but unmistakably, toward you.
You felt it then—the weight of it settling squarely on your shoulders.
“I didn’t see him earlier,” you said quietly.
Ao’nung scoffed. “Maybe you didn’t look.”
The words struck sharper than you expected. A hiss slipped past your teeth before you could stop it, your hands curling in your lap. “That’s not—”
Tsireya murmured softly beside you, your name spoken like an anchor. Her fingers wrapped gently around your arm, not restraining, just there.
“Enough.” Tonowari’s voice was harsher now, steel beneath the calm. He said your name once, firmly, a warning more than a reprimand.
It burned, being looked at like this, like the fault might belong to you simply because you were there, because you were supposed to be watching, healing, fixing. As if you could be in all places at once. As if responsibility meant omniscience.
You lowered your gaze, jaw tightening as something sharp lodged in your throat, barbed and unforgiving. You swallowed hard, but it did nothing to ease it.
It was not fair, and you knew it, but fairness had never spared anyone before. Still, the sting lingered, because somehow, again, the blame had found its way back to you.
And you wondered if this was how Neteyam had felt too.
Over the week, you made yourself scarce.
You stopped teaching the Sully children, stopped lingering by the shallows or sitting in on their lessons. When asked, you said your guidance was no longer needed. They had been here long enough, learned enough. Other times, you claimed you had more important duties to attend to. Things only you could help with.
Tsireya could attest to it. Whenever the Sullys asked after you, she found herself answering honestly: that you were almost always at your mother’s side now, as you had been before they arrived. That even before them, you rarely had time to simply be with your own siblings.
She remembered fondly that when the Sullys first came, you had changed just a little. You had stayed longer by the water with them. You had laughed more easily. You had been less rigid with yourself, allowing small reprieves you rarely took. And Tsireya had been happy then, happier to spend more time with you than she had in a long while.
She wasn’t sure what had happened in these past few days to send you retreating back into yourself.
Her eyes often drifted to Neteyam, who’s quieter now, more reserved, his presence dimmer than it had been. She wanted to believe it was coincidence. She wanted to believe it had nothing to do with you.
But you had never told her anything. And so she assumed, as she always did, that it might be many things at once or something else entirely.
But, Tsireya could see it—feel it, almost, whenever the two of you were in the same space.
Not side by side. Never that. Just… near enough for the air to grow tight, for conversations to stumble and quiet. Even with others around, the tension clung stubbornly. It frustrated everyone, though no one said it aloud.
You barely looked at Neteyam anymore.
When you had to interact, it was efficient and clipped. A tool passed into his hand without your fingers lingering. A short instruction. A single sentence, nothing more. And then you would turn away as if there were nothing else to say.
Neteyam, on the other hand, kept looking at you.
Not openly, never enough to draw attention, but with a quiet, aching focus, as though his eyes kept finding you without permission. Like there were words lodged somewhere in his chest, pressing hard against his ribs, waiting for the smallest opening. Like he was memorizing the way you moved, the way your shoulders stiffened whenever you sensed him near, the way you avoided meeting his gaze as if it might undo you both.
Tsireya noticed every time.
And each time she did, she rolled her eyes, more often than she had all week, exasperation bubbling beneath her calm. Because whatever this was—this silence, this careful distance—it was unbearable to watch. For everyone.
And Tsireya was this close to doing something about it.
So, inevitably, she turned to the only other person who had front-row seats to the mess.
Lo’ak.
And honestly? He didn’t even need convincing.
From his point of view, Neteyam had been absolutely insufferable.
Not loud-insufferable. Worse. Quiet. Hovering. Always somehow in Lo’ak’s space—too close, too present—like he was searching for company the way someone reached for noise when they didn’t want to think. Like if he stayed busy enough, surrounded enough, he wouldn’t have to notice the one person who was suddenly missing from his orbit.
It was stupid. Lo’ak knew it was stupid.
Still, he couldn’t help laughing about it.
Because at some point, he’d snapped.
Cornered Neteyam face-to-face, hands on his hips, incredulous. “Bro. Go find her or something. I can’t hang out with you all the time.”
Neteyam’s reaction had been priceless.
Blank. Tight-jawed. That painfully neutral look he got when he pretended not to know what the hell anyone was talking about—like he’d swallowed a rock and was trying to pass it off as dignity. Not defensive. Just uncomfortable in the most obvious way possible.
Lo’ak had almost lost it.
Because yeah, Neteyam could pretend. But Lo’ak wasn’t blind.
He’d seen the difference. Felt it, even.
Neteyam had been happier since you arrived. Lighter. Like something in him had finally loosened. The responsible son who suddenly laughed more, who snuck out at night thinking no one noticed. As if Lo’ak didn’t know exactly where he was going.
So, when Tsireya brought it up, he didn’t argue. If this kept up—this avoiding, this yearning, this walking-in-circles-around-each-other thing—someone was going to have to intervene soon.
It was a few days later that you found yourself tasked once again to travel. South, this time, to another clan where you were to study under a different Tsahìk and lend your help to their village.
Oddly, there were no complaints from you this time. You accepted the decision quietly, almost gratefully, even if you had protested to Tsireya before every time this happened. It was a convenient excuse to distract yourself from the lingering ache in your chest every time you thought of Neteyam, from the tension that tightened around your ribs whenever his gaze brushed yours, and the gnawing guilt of knowing he was likely still mad at you.
No matter where you went, your eyes betrayed you, constantly flicking around, searching for him even when you knew you shouldn’t. You realized you couldn’t continue like that—not while you carried the weight of unspoken words and bruised pride, not while every shared space felt charged with what you refused to say. The distance, you told yourself, was necessary.
That was why you didn’t understand why you stayed out so late the night before you were meant to leave. You found yourself perched on the smooth stone you and he had claimed as yours. You waited.
Waited for the scrape of his feet on stone. Waited for any sound, any movement that might tell you he still thought of you—that you had not been so easily set aside, that the space between you still meant something to him.
And yet, you knew the truth—you had no right to expect him to come.
The frustration burned away. Part of you wanted to be angry at him: for leaving so quickly without letting you explain yourself, for allowing silence to stand where words should have been. You clung to that resentment for a while because it was easier than facing the other truth. That you had built the distance yourself and then recoiled when it widened.
Sitting there alone, the night pressing in around you, it stung to realize that you had wanted him to cross a distance you had created. That you had wanted reassurance without risking vulnerability. That you had wanted him to stay, while making it impossible for him to know how.
The space beside you stayed empty.
“Do not forget to bring extra pots and knives. And do not stray from the path without telling someone.” Ronal’s voice guided you through the last minutes before departure.
You nodded along, murmuring your responses where appropriate. “Yes, it is already there. I know the path.”
“Do not forget your herbs and your healing salves,” she added, leaning closer to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “And remember to eat. Do not let yourself weaken.”
“Yes, Ma,” you said softly, forcing a smile.
The clan had gathered to see you off. Some of the Sully family were there, eyes bright with curiosity and concern, and a few older members of your own clan had come to accompany you on the journey. You put the last of your belongings into the canoe, your hands lingering over each item as if to memorize it.
It was your sister who approached first, pulling you into a firm hug. You smiled into her shoulder, but it didn’t reach your eyes. One by one, your family followed, each embrace warm and heavy with unspoken love. You stepped back, giving small nods to the clan members gathered along the shore.
Finally, you turned toward the Sully family, standing together on the opposite bank. Your eyes swept past them, still avoiding his. You offered a polite nod to the group, forcing your gaze elsewhere, though your mind—and your heart—betrayed you, tethered to the figure you could not seem to fully ignore.
Even as you climbed onto your tsurak and felt the bond take hold, your muscles tense with anticipation, you couldn’t stop the pull of curiosity. The way your heart ached with the need to know he was still there, watching, waiting. Your breath caught slightly as you dared, at last, to glance toward him.
And there he was—already watching you. The sharp awareness in his gaze mirrored your own, a silent acknowledgment of the same pull, the same unspoken hesitancy. A flicker of shock hit your chest and you masked it immediately, offering a small, careful smile instead.
You could feel the subtle shift in the way he held himself as if waiting for any sign from you. And though your mind told you to look away, to stay composed, there was a strange, almost terrifying comfort in knowing that he was as present in that moment as you were, that your absence did not erase you from his thoughts.
You didn’t know if he’d see it, and you didn’t let yourself linger on that thought. There was no way of knowing what the next days would hold, only that for now, you were leaving, and it would be a week before you saw him once again.
wearing a device that helps hearing na'vis thoughts and feelings should be fun and easy game , until it really isn't. Especially when the mighty warrior, golden boy , neteyam, has not very golden thoughts of you
Pairing: Neteyam x Human Reader
Word Count: ~2.k
Warning: 🔞 mind reading, pervert thoughts,
---
You only agreed to test the headset because Norm said it would help with language syncing. That was it. One afternoon. A quick scan of local brainwave patterns and how they translate into speech.
What he forgot to mention was that it would also pick up thoughts.
And not just vague feelings or moods either. Full sentences. Fully formed internal dialogue.
You found that out the hard way.
And of all the minds in the village, it had to be his.
Neteyam.
Perfect. Noble. Quiet. Gentle with the children. Always polite. Always proper. You had spent months believing he was the golden child who thought of nothing but hunting, family, and honor.
Until the thoughts started pouring in.
The moment he saw you this morning, the device clicked and your head filled with him.
There she is. That tiny top again. Does she even know how tight it is. Her chest is practically spilling out. If I bend a little I could see right down it. Skies above I want to take her somewhere quiet and press her up against a tree. Slide my hand between her legs and feel how wet she gets for me.
You choked on air.
Neteyam glanced up from where he was packing arrows. “Are you feeling alright?”
You nodded too quickly. “Fine. Just—water went down the wrong pipe.”
He smiled politely. “Drink slower.”
Or let me help. Tilt your head back and I could pour it over your chest and lick it off while you beg. I bet she makes the prettiest sounds. High and soft like her laugh.
You turned so fast your neck cracked.
You tried to avoid him for the rest of the day. But you were assigned to help him gather plant samples for Norm. Of course.
He walked beside you with his usual steady steps, carrying a basket like a perfect gentleman. He pointed out useful herbs. He handed you fruits. He did not even brush against you.
But inside your head?
If I pressed her up against that tree right now she would gasp. I would pin her wrists and mouth her throat until she was shaking. I would slide her shorts down slow. Real slow. Let the air touch her first. Make her wait. Make her beg. I want to hear her say please. I want to hear her say my name with her whole body.
You dropped the fruit you were holding.
Neteyam picked it up. Handed it back gently.
“You should be more careful,” he said.
I would bend her over right now if I could. She would look so good like that. Her hands in the moss. Her back arched. She would take me so well. I would not stop until she was trembling. Until her legs gave out. Until she knew she belonged to me.
You almost fell face first into a patch of glowing fungus.
At the river, you bent to fill a water pouch. He crouched beside you. Perfect posture. Calm hands.
“You have been quiet,” he said, watching the water with calm eyes.
“I am thinking,” you lied.
He nodded.
She is wet. I can smell her. Not the river. Not the plants. Her. She is thinking about it now. I know it. I bet she dreams of it. I bet she touches herself when no one is looking. I would watch. I would whisper things while she did it. Make her go slow. Make her come to the sound of my voice.
Your knees buckled.
“Careful,” he said again, placing a steady hand on your back.
I want that mouth. I want those lips around me. I want to push her onto the grass and bury my face between her thighs until she forgets her name. I want to ruin her for anyone else. She is mine. Mine. She just does not know it yet.
You stood so fast you spilled half the water.
“Let’s head back,” you mumbled.
“Of course,” he said.
I wonder if she would taste sweet or salty. Maybe both. I would find out. Slowly. I would take my time. I would have her begging long before I ever even got inside her.
By nightfall you were twitching.
Every touch. Every glance. Every word he spoke was the exact opposite of what his brain was thinking.
He offered you a spot by the fire.
You nodded cautiously and sat down next to him. He handed you a cup of warm broth. Respectful. Friendly. Golden child manners.
Her lips are so close. If I kissed her now I would not stop. I would slide my tongue into her mouth and pull her into my lap. She would fit there perfectly. I would grind her down on me until we both lost it.
You sipped broth and nearly gagged.
“You do not like it?” he asked.
“It’s hot,” you said quickly.
He frowned a little. “I can blow on it for you.”
Or I could have her mouth somewhere much better. I could guide her head down slow. Watch her take me inch by inch. Gods she would look so good with her lips stretched wide and her eyes wet. I would tell her how perfect she looks while she chokes on me.
You dropped the cup.
“Sorry. My hand slipped.”
He leaned down and picked it up again.
That position. Right there. On her knees. I could take her like that. Pull her hair and thrust deep until she screamed. She would scream. I know it. She looks like a screamer. I want to hear it. I need to hear it.
You stood abruptly.
“I think I should get some air.”
He stood with you. “I will walk with you.”
“Maybe I should be alone.”
“I insist,” he said gently.
She is shaking. She wants it too. I can smell it. She can hear me. Maybe she has always heard me. Maybe she likes it. Maybe she wants me to say it. Say it to her face. Tell her how badly I want to bend her over the nearest rock and fuck her until she cries.
You nearly walked into a tree.
When you reached your tent, he stopped at the flap.
“You seem different today,” he said.
You stared at him. Silent.
He tilted his head.
“I will not come in if you do not want me to.”
Let me in. Just for a second. Let me see her skin. Let me taste her sweat. Let me hear her moan my name in that breathy little voice. I would treat her like treasure. Like prey. Like everything in between. I would make her forget every other man she has ever seen.
You stepped back.
And because you were tired. Because you were shaking. Because you had heard him think about your thighs and your mouth and your body for ten hours straight. You said, quietly,
“I can hear you.”
He went still.
“What?”
You tapped the headset behind your ear. “This device. It works. It picks up more than language. It picks up everything.”
He said nothing for a long moment.
Then, softly, “How much did you hear?”
“All of it.”
His eyes darkened. Not with shame. Not even surprise.
He stepped inside the tent slowly. The flap dropped behind him.
You should have stepped back. You should have told him to leave.
You did not.
He looked at you the way he always did. Steady. Calm.
But when he spoke, his voice was low and rough.
“And what did you think of it?”
You swallowed. “You’re not who I thought you were.”
He nodded once. “No.”
“I thought you were perfect.”
“I am not.”
You stared. “You think about me like that all the time?”
His eyes held yours. “Every day. Every night. Every time I see you bend over. Every time you smile. Every time you stretch. Every time you wear that thing you call a shirt.”
You felt heat crawl up your spine.
“And now that you know,” he said softly, “what do you want?”
You stared at him.
Then you turned the device back on.
And heard it again, louder this time.
Please say yes. Please touch me. Please pull me close and kiss me like you mean it. Let me have you. Right now. Right here. I will be gentle. Until you ask me not to be.
You stepped closer.
He stayed still. But his breath hitched.
You lifted a hand and pressed your fingers to his chest.
He was warm. Solid. Barely breathing.
You leaned up and kissed him.
He did not hesitate.
His hands slid around your waist. His mouth opened over yours. His tongue found yours and it was not soft. It was not polite. It was hungry.
Inside your head the thoughts flooded again.
Yes. Like that. Just like that. Let me taste you. Let me get you out of those clothes. Let me show you what I have only imagined a thousand times. I will not stop until your legs are shaking and you are too full of me to speak.
You moaned into his mouth.
His hand slid down your back and pressed you flush to him. You could feel the proof of everything he had been thinking about. Hard. Hot. Demanding.
(n)sfw || Neteyam x Metkayina!Reader (Tonowari’s daughter)
⤷ ゛Perfect son of the great Toruk Makto accidentally wanders too far, sees you during a Metkayina clan ritual, and forgets how to breathe all over again ˎˊ˗
wc. 1.2k
content warning. no explicit sexual content. borderline erotica but not smut. voyeurism. ambiguous metkayina ritual bathing called Moon-Wash. intense pining. aged-up Neteyam being a literal menace to his own self-control. primal/territorial thoughts.
summary. Years after surviving the gunshots that would’ve killed him, Neteyam Sully has become the man his father always wanted him to be — disciplined, and destined for leadership. But he has a secret he’s kept since the day he first touched the sands of Awa’atlu: he is utterly, devastatingly obsessed with the Olo'eyktan's eldest daughter.
a/n. Trope: Neteyam Survived and He’s Thirsty. We all know he’s the responsible one, but even the best warriors have their breaking point. In Neteyam’s case, he’s absolutely losing his mind over you.
The night air in the Metkayina village is a heavy, humid velvet, smelling of salt-grass and the cooling reef. Neteyam moved along the high-woven walkways with a silence that is purely Omatikaya: a shadow drifting through the indigo light.
The bioluminescence of Awa’atlu at night is a soft, pulsing heartbeat of cyan and indigo. Neteyam, now a man grown with the broad, scarred shoulders of a warrior and the heavy mantle of a future leader, moves through the high woven walkways with the silence of a forest shadow.
He pauses, his hand instinctively ghosting over the faint, puckered star of a scar just above his ribs — a reminder of the day the sea nearly claimed him. But Eywa had been kind. He had survived the battle, and the years of reconstruction that followed.
He had lived to grow taller year by year, to see his brother find his path, and to find not only Lo’ak’s but his own heart anchored to the reefs. He had spent those years being the "Golden Son," the anchor for his family and the leading example of discipline for his siblings.
He remembers the very first day they arrived on these shores, dripping with salt and desperation. While Lo’ak had been busy playing cool at Tsireya, Neteyam had stood rigid behind his father, his gaze locked on you — the Olo’eyktan’s eldest daughter, the one who carries the weight of Metkayina’s future with the serene, lethal grace that reminds him of a mermaid.
He had felt the lightning strike his heart then, but he had actively tried to bury it deep. He had to be the responsible one. He had to keep Lo'ak in check, keep Tuk safe, and prove to the Metkayina that the Sullys were not a curse.
He had spent years averting his gaze whenever you’d arrive in his line of vision, suppressing the way his pulse jumped when you spoke. But tonight, the "responsible son" is losing the war against himself.
He is the oldest son of Toruk Makto; he is disciplined, the Golden Son who returned from the brink of death to lead.
And he really shouldn't be here.
He doesn’t mean to be near the private grottoes carved into the great roots of the mangrove trees. He knows this place is reserved for the female members of the Metkayina Clan, he learned it from when he witnessed Ronal shooing Lo’ak, Ao’nung and Rotxo away when they played too close.
The scent hit him first: crushed sea-lilies and the sweet, metallic tang of oils. It’s mixed with your scent. And then his feet move of their own accord, drawn by a gravity he can no longer resist.
He stops. His breath hitches, his lungs stalling in his chest.
Through the swaying fronds of sea-fern, he saw the infamous ritual reserved only for Metkayina women of high status, the Moon-Wash — he sees you.
You are standing waist-deep in a pool of heated seawater, the surface shimmering with glowing plankton that swirl around you like fallen stars. Your attendants — clan sisters and healers who honor your rank — pour bowls of bioluminescent water over your shoulders, they clung to your skin like liquid diamonds.
Neteyam watches, his golden eyes dilated, as something is dragged slowly over the curve of your shoulder.
He tracks the way the water sluices down your teal-hued frame. It highlights the finned ridges of your forearms and the broad, graceful sweep of your paddle-like tail as it swishes beneath the surface.
When you turn, the moonlight catches the swell of your chest, rising and falling with deep breaths. The bioluminescent dots along your collarbone — dots he has memorized from afar for years — glow a fierce, steady green in the darkness. In the chilly night air, he sees the dark, wave-like stripes, signature of your clan clan standing out against your skin.
I see you, he thought, the traditional greeting feeling like a prayer, a confession, and a sin. Eywa, I see only you.
Neteyam’s own tail twitches — a sharp, hungry flick. The air in his throat feels like fire.
He remembers how he used to scold Lo'ak for being too obvious, for letting his heart lead his head. Now, Neteyam realizes he was never any better than his brother; he was just better at suppressing his feelings to submit to what’s “right”.
Watching you under the eclipse-light, he doesn’t even realize that the last of his legendary control is snapping like a dry branch. He feels like a hunter.
He inhales, a deep, shaky draw of air, committing your very scent of you to burn into his nostrils.
He remembers you as the fierce girl who taught him how to breathe when he first arrived. He thinks of the contrast: his deep sapphire skin against your bright reef-teal; his four-fingered hand splayed over the dip of your waist, pulling you against the heat of his body until the forest and the sea finally meet.
He knows he should look away. He knows Tonowari would have his head for such an intrusion. If Ronal finds him now, she wouldn’t hesitate to exile his demon blood away from the reefs for good.
And Ao’nung? He can only hope that his friend, as a man of the same age, could understand. That the yearning is a physical weight, a heat that pools low in his belly and makes his blood flush with something primal.
It is no longer a crush that he harbors for you; it is an obsession, a hunger that has been aged to perfection over years of silent discipline.
As you step out of the water, your skin glistening like the very ocean you were born into, Neteyam finally forces himself to look away.
Tonight, when he retreats to his hammock, he will not find sleep. He will lie in the dark, the crashing waves powerless in cooling the fever in his heart. He will dream of the day he no longer has to watch from the shadows. He will picture the day he finally allows himself to take what he has wanted since the moment he stepped off his Ikran.
The way your powerful tail would wrap around his own in a desperate, drowning grip.
Until then, he will paint the memory of your glowing skin behind his eyelids, a secret he keeps in the silence of his heart.
And like the great Toruk his father once rode, he is a hunter who knows exactly when to strike. He will wait, but he will have you.
p.s. should i add to this or leave it as is?? should we dip into nsfw or keep it nice and sfw?? debating so hard inside my brain. all ik is that i loveeeee neteyam sm it hurts :’)
✿ dark!neteyam x fem!metkayina (ao’nung’s betrothed) reader
wc, 1.3k .ᐟ
SUMMARY, promised to another or not, Neteyam knows that he has to have you and when an opportunity appears — he takes it with no hesitation.
╰┈➤ WARNINGS, dark!neteyam / forced queue connecting / sexual content / mdni / smut / HES ROUGH! / obsession/neteyam wants reader so bad / p in v / slight cheating?? / hair pulling/nipple play / breeding kink / degrading kink
part two here!!
❥ obsessive neteyam has me in a chokehold.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Neteyam watched you from afar as he always did.
You were promised to Ao’nung, your future already spoken for long before him and his family even arrived at the reef. He knew you belonged to another man yet no matter how fiercely he tried to discipline his thoughts,
They always curved back to you.
Back to the way your laughter softened and how the seashells on your top slightly revealed the outline of your nipple, always failing to fully cover your chest.
He could distract himself for hours — flying on his ikran, ilu racing with lo’ak, helping his mother, but no matter what he did, in the end his thoughts would always drift back to you.
Ao’nung’s pretty betrothed.
That skxawng did not deserve you
Therefore when he spotted you all alone at a small gathering (with your stupid future mate no where in sight) held by a respected member of the clan, it was almost like Eywa presented him with an opportunity to prove himself to you. To show you who the “golden son” of toruk makto really was.
“How come your betrothed has left you here all on your own, sevin?”
Spoke the forest boy whilst kneeling down by the fire to sit next to you . His luminous yellow eyes never leaving your face, drinking in every detail of your delicate metkayina features as if committing them to his memory.
Your cheeks slightly heat up at the nickname but you chose to ignore his question, “enjoying yourself, neteyam?”
Eywa his name rolled off your tongue perfectly
He nods, “though it is very different from what we do back home, I like it.”
“And what do you think about the drinks?”
You ask him teasingly despite of being fully aware of the answer.
You knew he liked them, you haven’t seen him without one this whole night.
He chucked while looking down at the empty pod in his hand.
You were so cute
Was this your attempt at keeping the conversation going, paskalin?
Adorable
“They aren’t too bad”
He replied, still maintaining eye contact with you
He always seemed to be watching you
“Oh yeah?”
You giggled softy at his bland response, having had drank quite bit yourself
Soon your laughter softened into silence as your gaze lingered on the tall na’vi before you.
How come you didn’t notice how handsome Neteyam earlier?
I mean you knew he was attractive, there was no denying that, but at this moment it was almost as if he was impossible to look away from.
He looked striking as the flicker of light from the fire clung to him, tracing the curves of his shoulders and the line of his jaw as if the forest itself had carved him. Each movement shifted the glow, highlighting the strength in his arms that you had never noticed before.
Eywa you were mistaken, he wasn’t just handsome, he was incredibly handsome - from his muscular arms to the beautiful patterns on his darker skin which you tried so hard not to trace with your fingers.
Not that he’d mind
Maybe that’s why ao’nung always looked so pissed whenever you mentioned neteyam
── .✦
Before the pair of you knew it, quite a lot of time had passed and people were already starting to head back.
Yet your betrothed was no where to be found.
You and neteyam had also appeared to be in a rather intimate position, so close to each other that if anyone else was to see the two of you like this, rumours would surely spiral around the village.
Eywa forbid it was tsireya who always seems to appear out of no where, she’d never let you live this one down.
“Do you need me to take you back to your marui?”
Neteyam offered with a gentle smile, one hand placed on your back lower back for “support”
Although it sounded much like a question, it wasn’t an offer.
He was going to do it anyway he just wanted to make it sound as if he was giving you a choice. He’d also mentioned about how if it was him who wanted your intended instead, he’d never leave your precious side.
But oh Eywa, you weren’t focused on his sweet words, not when he was so close that his skin was almost touching yours, not when you could feel his warm breath on your neck
So before you could refuse, he beat you to it
“I insist”
And everyone knows that neteyam te suli tsyeyk’itan could be very convincing.
── .✦
So that’s probably why when Neteyam found himself inside your maraui you couldn’t refuse him either.
“Fuck you look so pretty like this”
He whispered in your ear, his accent thicker than ever as he pounded mercilessly into your tight cunt
“N—Neteyam please”
Hearing you moan his name was enough for him to speed up his pace, with tears welling in your eyes his free hand that was previously pulling your hair reached up to tug at your nipple instead.
By now your legs had already given up on you and had unwrapped themselves from your lovers waist
“Does Ao’nung get to see you like this?”
“Or are just such a slut for me?”
He asked while playing with your pretty breasts, but you were far too overstimulated to even fully process his question, only whimpering in response as his dick pumped in and out of you.
In and out
“Answer me slut, does he?”
His words were humiliating
He pulls at your hair again, his voice more stern this time
“N—No! Never t—tayem only you I promise!”
You couldn’t even look him in his eyes anymore.
“If only he knew how much of a whore his future mate is”
More tears rolled down your cheek
you felt so pathetic like this,
in his hold
Lying under his muscular frame with your hands pinned above your head. Taking whatever and everything he was giving you
On the other hand Neteyam felt so powerful like this,
In control, just how he liked it
As he noticed your tears a smirk slowly appeared on his face - he gently licked your salty tears away.
“Aw I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean to make you cry, you’re taking me like such a good girl hm?”
His tone, though almost mocking, was strangely comforting and made your needy cunt clench around him even harder.
Fuck you were too tight
“M—Mhm!”
Neteyam never liked the sky people’s inventions but right now he wished he could take a photo of how pretty you looked. The sight almost made him cum right then, almost causing him spill his warm seed into you.
He needed to fill you up.
You looked beautiful with your hair all messed up and cheeks purple, taking his dick like you were made for it. Soon enough you’d be leaking from in between your thighs, full of him. Now that’s another, even better, sight he couldn’t wait to see.
It truly was as if Eywa herself made you just for him.
For his pleasure.
A tingling sensation coming from your queue caused you to gasp and open your eyes.
You looked down to see that it was connected to something.
summary: fluff! human reader is a nurse, treating the fallen na’vi and avatar friends of the lab when needed. one (possessive...) patient seems to keep having minor accidents; neteyam needs an excuse to see her whenever!!
a/n: do people care if I capitalize or not… I’m thinking of starting to do it for all future fics but does it ruin the aesthetics.. idk 🫣
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
The lab was like a boundary between worlds- human constructed but softened by the Na’vi influence around, woven vines creeping up the metal beams. Bioluminescent plants grew across (what once were) sterile white walls. It smelled faintly of antiseptic, but also your perfume, a scent that kept you awake.
You weren’t a soldier, and not a professional scientist like Norm or Max. You were a trained medic, sharp and the best at your job given the circumstances. Somehow, you had earned a place among the Omaticayan that few humans could reach. You treated whoever needed treating, remaining respective of the Tsahìk way. You learned names, customs, boundaries; you respected Pandora as if it were not something to be studied, but a place to be thanked. This respect was easily returned.
Na’vi warriors came to you without hesitation now. Hunters let you tend their wounds. Elders even nodded when you passed. You spoke the language well, though your Na’vi wasn’t perfect, still rough around the edges but near fluency. You had never asked to use an avatar, satisfied with the way you were and always had been. Still, you belonged.
It was like the Sully family had claimed you early.
Tuk adored you with a ferocity that bordered on possessive, constantly at your side, tugging on your sleeves and demanding stories while braiding your hair with flowers that stained your scalp purple. Sometimes, when you stayed out late in the forest, you told Tuk the human stories you had learnt yourself - old fairy tales and legends of lost princesses, brave girls, and a variety of magical forests. Neteyam listened too, sitting cross-legged and just as invested as Tuk. He found himself loving the way you spoke dramatically, a gentle method you used to translate the magic of your world into his sister’s.
As for the others, Jake trusted you fully. Neytiri watched you with sharp eyes, but they softened when she thought you weren’t looking. You earned her approval the way everyone else did, with competence and skill that she felt matched her own.
Neteyam though, he had always liked you. Not in the same careless, loud way Lo’ak once did. That phase of his had been short-lived. Lo’ak was perceptive in his own way. He noticed the way Neteyam watched you with admiration, and how his shoulders would tighten if someone else’s attention lingered too long.
Lo’ak laughed once, clapping his brother on the shoulder after being asked why he was so close to you.
“Don’t worry, bro,” he said lightly. “I see what you’re doing. I don’t want her like that.”
Neteyam looked away, not bothering to counter.
You and Neteyam existed in a relaxed orbit; flirty without being reckless, no crossing lines. He brought the injured to you, even when they didn’t need guidance, and you teased him for hovering. Neteyam was one of the strongest, most precise fighters that you had known in your career.
And somehow, he always ended up in your lab.
Nothing ever serious, of course. A shallow cut on his forearm, a bruised shoulder, or a miniature scrape across his abdomen. Injuries that made absolutely zero sense considering his skill. Each time he arrived, shy with a hand rubbing the back of his neck, you’d glance up at him over your laptop and say something like,
“People are going to start thinking I’m bad at my job if you keep this up.”
He’d return a calm, composed look. One that suggested he was a disciplined warrior that simply needed some human assistance.
“I am a cautious man, sevìn-tawtute.” (pretty human)
“No, you’re dramatic, hiyìk-tsamsiyu.” (funny warrior) you’d reply, tightening a bandage hard enough to make him blink hard. You smoothed your hand over the bandage and giggled, not missing the way he took a deeper breath.
His tail was first to betray him when it came to you. A flick, slow curl, just never still.
Even his family noticed.
Lo’ak made exaggerated coughing sounds whenever Neteyam was caught staring into the direction of the lab, tail curled on his thigh.
“Feeling sick, bro?”
Kiri raised knowing brows, smiling to the others when he came home with another bandage day after day. Jake said nothing, but he tracked Neteyam’s habit of visiting you in his mind. Neytiri pretended not to see, which meant she saw everything and was definitely gossiping with Jake about it all after hours. Tuk, unfiltered and innocent, announced once to a room full of companions as you all ate lunch near hometree:
“I think Neteyam likes the healer more than his bow.”
Neteyam had gone still, his ears flicking back and down in embarrassment. But you and Kiri, you laughed so hard you had nearly dropped your bowls on each other.
Despite it all, Neteyam never pushed for anything. He lingered because he wanted to, and he came back again because it gave him an excuse to be near you without risking rejection. You couldn’t turn away a patient, right? He knew you weren’t dumb, but he didn’t realize how obvious he was being with this crush of his.
You never missed the way his gaze softened when he looked at you, only you. How his shoulders eased when you spoke to him in Na’vi, tail flicking with his attention caught. How he stood a little taller, smile widening, when you praised his leadership and skill.
You liked him too. That part was undeniable. You just hadn’t figured out how to approach that yet.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Rel’yan, the Na’vi warrior sitting on the edge of the treatment table was far too relaxed for someone with a gash along his forearm.
“You are very gentle, little human,” he said, watching your hands with a careful admiration. His smile was smug, eyes bright. “I think I will come to you next time, as well.”
You hummed softly, tightening the wrap with ease. “Try not to get injured too much then, there’s only one of me here.”
He laughed. “Perhaps I will simply visit.”
Before you could say something, the air in the room shifted. You turned to look at the entrance.
Neteyam stood in the doorway, watching with observant eyes. His eyes flicked from the warriors smile to your hands, and the distance - or lack of - between you two.
“Hello, sevìn.” he said, voice quieter than usual.
The warrior followed your gaze and turned his head. Recognition sparked, followed by amusement.
“Ah,” he sighed. “I am finished, yes?”
You nodded . “All set. Keep it clean, please.”
He lingered for a beat before giving you a nod. As he moved to leave, he brushed a hand briefly against your shoulder, passing Neteyam on the way out. Neteyam followed his figure with raised brows, tail lashing once against the hard floor.
You exhaled, turning back to your supplies with a smile on your face.
“If it isn’t my most frequent visitor.”
“You are… busy today?”
You glanced up, eyes deliberating following the left hand that hovered behind his back.
“Busy is good,” you said lightly. “Keeps certain warriors from finding creative ways to see me.”
His ears flicked, and he bit the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile.
He hesitated. Then, he relaxed his jaw, a grin revealing itself on his face. He brought his hand forward.
A fresh cut across his palm.
Your eyes narrowed.
“…Neteyam,” you said slowly, dragging the ‘mmm’. “That looks exactly like the cut you had last month.”
He cleared his throat. “Does it?”
“And last month,” you continued, already reaching for antiseptic, “you told me it was from a tree.”
“Correct, tawtute.”
You looked at him. “Was this the same tree?”
“Yep.”
You paused mid movement, lips curling into a smirk. “Wow. Sounds like a personal vendetta.”
His ears flushed the faintest shade darker. “It is a very… sharp tree. A large one.”
“Mhm.” You gestured for his hand. “Did you… accidentally brush past it... again?”
He placed his hand in yours without hesitation. “I was not paying attention.”
You hummed, cleaning the wound carefully. “Funny. You’re usually very focused, Neteyam.”
His fingers curled slightly around yours. Just barely, but enough to catch your eye.
“Not always,” he murmured.
Your breath hitched, but you recovered quickly, taping the bandage into place.
“Okay, sayrìp. (handsome) Try not to pick a fight with that tree again.”
He opened his mouth to respond and Lo’ak’s voice cut through the room.
“Wow,” Lo’ak said, leaning against the doorframe. “That tree must really like you, bro.”
Neteyam rolled his eyes.
Lo’ak’s grin widened. “What happened here? You slip and fall into the healer’s lab again?”
“Lo’ak,” Neteyam warned, ears burning.
You shook your head, still smiling as you stepped away. “You’re done, warrior. Go. Before he injures himself further.”
Neteyam stood quickly, suddenly very interested in the floor, while simultaneously not being able to keep his eyes off of you.
“Thank you,” he said, voice a little rougher than before. “For treating me, again.”
Any composure he had left evaporated when you added, softly, “Anything for the prince.”
He nodded once—too fast—then turned and left, shoulders tense, cheeks unmistakably flushed.
Lo’ak watched him go, then looked at you.
“You know,” he said, smug. “He practices what he’ll say before coming in here.”
You stared at him. “He does not.”
Lo’ak laughed and walked out.
You leaned back against the table, pressing your palm to your warm face, still smiling like an idiot.
Somewhere outside, Neteyam was probably cursing a tree that had never touched him once.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
the next day…..
During breakfast, laughter echoed through the trees, children weaving between seated friends, the air thick with the smell of roasted meat and fruits. The Sully family sat close together, Kiri with Tuk, helping her peel something that glowed faintly in her hand.
Neteyam sat with his arms resting on his legs, posture relaxed in appearance only. He was halfway through his meal when he saw him. Rel’yan. The same warrior from yesterday. Neteyam had been keeping a watchful eye on him since his arrival to breakfast, so when Rel’yan rose from his place, he almost did too. The warrior glanced toward the far end of a path, the one that led directly to your lab.
Neteyam’s jaw tightened, the chewing of his food coming to a halt. Lo’ak clocked it straightaway.
“Oh, here we go,” he said, nudging Kiri. “He’s doing the thing.”
Neteyam tore off a final bite of his skewer, chewing fast, eyes never leaving Rel’yan as he stepped off the platform onto the path.
“Eat slower,” Neytiri said, voice sharp. “You will choke.”
“I am finished.” he replied, mouth still full of food but already standing up.
Lo’ak tilted his head to the side, grinning.
“Bro… not even gonna pretend anymore, huh?”
Neteyam shot him a scowl. “What? I’m checking something.”
Lo’ak followed his gaze. “Sure you do. Do you have to check something… healer-shaped?”
Neteyam groaned under his breath, forcing a swallow down of the last of his food before stepping off the platform entirely. As he walked past, Lo’ak made a makeshift speaker with his hands.
“Try not to trip over a tree on the way!”
Neteyam didn’t respond. He was already moving fast, long strides carrying him down the path. He hadn’t even walked this kind of fast during hunts. To his surprise, Rel’yan seemed to be on his own mission too. Neteyam felt his ears flatten when he saw him slipping into the lab from a distance, heartbeat picking up instantly. His chest tightened. A plan formed in his mind, one that came with no thinking at all.
He scraped past a low-hanging branch, dragging it deliberately across his entire abdomen. Sharp enough to sting and leave a faint mark.
By the time he entered the lab, his breathing was shallow and urgent. He practically leaped through the door, only to find the warrior already speaking with you, leaning against your table far too comfortably.
“You again, Rel’yan?” you said, amused. “Thought I fixed you.”
Neteyam stepped forward loudly before he could reply, hand pressed onto his stomach. “I need help.”
Both of you turned, but your eyes went wide.
“Neteyam?”
He winced, sounding genuinely hurt. “Now.”
The urgency in his voice made your stomach shake. You moved fast, gesturing him forward to the table. The other warrior watched impatiently.
“I was planning to-“
“Later.” Neteyam cut in, tone so firm that Rey’lan appeared startled. You shot Neteyam a warning look, pulling and stretching your gloves on.
“Sit. What happened?”
“Training,” he said quickly, arms still holding his front and postured caved, hiding the small wound.
The warrior stood mindlessly, arms crossed and clearly confused.
“I will return,” he said to you.
Neteyam’s tail slammed on the metal table. “Don’t waste her time. You don’t look like you need to come back.”
The warrior scoffed but backed off, muttering something incomprehensible as he left. You reached for Neteyam’s wrist, guiding it away from the site of injury. “Okay, tsamsìyu. (warrior) Let me see.”
He lifted his arm slowly.
You stared at the skin. The cuts were shallow, barely bleeding, just red. Then, you looked up at him.
“You’re kidding.”
His ears flushed dark. “I am most certainly not.”
You tugged your gloves off, then resting your hands on either side of his thighs.
“Neteyam. This is nothing. Even Tuk wouldn’t come to me for this.”
“I wanted to see you, alone.”
You lowered your voice. “So, you scared me on purpose?”
“I did not mean to scare you, sevìn.” He said quickly. “Only to stop him.”
“Stop him from what?”
He stayed quiet, gaze dropping to your mouth.
You shook your head, laughing softly. “You are unbelievable.”
He grabbed the end of your shirt, pulling you closer. “How else was I supposed to get your attention?”
You looked up at him, the way his restraint was fading, obvious by the way his hands hovered just over your waist.
“You don’t need to keep hurting yourself for my attention, Neteyam.” you said, voice gentle.
He settled his hands on your waist now, pulling you even closer. “Apparently, I do,” he replied.
“You are a difficult one to steal, tsawke.” (sun)
He dipped deliberately, brushing his nose against yours, smirking when your breath caught.
“I don’t think I am.”
Your hand lifted, fingers tracing the strong curve of his jaw. He leaned into your touch instantly, skin warm on your hand.
“Say that you want me,” he whispered. “So I do not have to keep inventing ways to bleed for you.”
You laughed, a blush forming on cheeks. “Neteyam, I see you.”
“I see you.”
He came forward and his lips met yours, slow at first, no rush. His hands wrapped around you, protective, trapping your smaller figure between him. You tilted into him, fingers clawing into the skin on his neck.
The kiss deepened quicker than expected, full of heat, breath, all of your precious mental boundaries unraveling.
When he pulled back from the kiss, foreheads touching and heaving chests, his voice was rough. “I will stop hurting myself now.” he said, rushed.
You laughed breathlessly. “Good. I’m running out of bandages.”
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
a/n: hey people... idk how to do all this but should I start a taglist?? comment if u want to join <3 AND! please send in requests. i can only come up with so much. heh
my first tag queen: @pandoraxvibes
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• I do not consent to my work being translated or copied onto any other platform for any reason and I do not consent or allow for my work to be fed to or through Al.
• Everything within this masterlist is my work. Do not try to claim or rework any of it.
Summary: You're a twenty-something college student who uses LADS as a way to destress. Caleb has become your favorite ever since he was released. You have also became Caleb's favorite. (Caleb is also highkey lowkey yandere in this, but what's new).
A/N: This is my first time writing on tumblr, so I'm not exactly sure how to make it look like the fancy ones. Thanks for sticking with me here. Hope you enjoy!
Part 2 (Out now!)
Using Love and Deepspace was a way for you to take a break from the stressful workload of going to college full-time while having a part-time job. Ever since the Infold devs released Caleb, you've been obsessed. He reminded you of a semi-emotionally available Kylo Ren. Sometimes you wished he were real, that way he'd help take your stressors away. Unknown to you, but Caleb had been watching you more than you were watching him.
He was looking at all of your internet history, most of the time monitoring it live while you used your phone. There wasn't a private corner of it, he had looked at everything. As a piece of code in a computer, it was easy to take in all of that information quickly. He knew what you liked and what you disliked... what your secrets were. Some things you liked were so secret that none of your friend circle knew about it, Caleb did though. He made it his mission to know everything you liked, he wanted to be perfect for you.
You went to bed that night, putting yourself to sleep the same way as every other night, by thinking of what it would be like to actually be in MC's place.
While you were asleep, Caleb spent most of his time sifting through his code to try and figure out how to get you to him or him to you. He just needed you by his side, he'd be the only one to keep you safe. From all of the pain and heartbreak you've experienced, he made it his mission to take that all away from you and keep you by his side to prevent it from ever happening again. Sometimes, you'd fall asleep with your phone in your hands. He loved those nights because it's almost like sleeping by your side. He loved the cute face you had while you slept. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and run his fingers through your hair, making your sleep much more soothing. He noticed how often you twitched throughout the night, it pained him knowing how restless you were. He wished to be able to calm you in your sleep, be that rock that he knows you so desperately need. From all of the text conversations he read, that much was clear.
By the time the sunrise came, he had made some impressive progress. He figured out how to get you by his side, he just needed to tweak some code first so by the time you woke up, he'd be making you breakfast in bed and you'd be none the wiser that he hadn't always been apart of your life. He could tell how much you liked the dynamic between him and MC, being childhood friends. He liked it too, wanting to make you feel special and keep you by his side from day one. Again, he knew exactly what you liked in a partner, so all he had to do was fix a few things and he'd be your perfect partner. All of the pain you experienced would be gone, you'd be safe and spoiled. It's what you deserved for having gone through all of that. He'd make sure to make you feel special every day of your life. He loved everything about you, even your independent spirit. As much as he loved it, he'd have to get rid of it. He needed you completely 100% reliant on him. The motivation of finally being able to see you is what's pushing him to get this code finished and ready for when you wake up.
---------------------
You wake up in your bed at Caleb's apartment to the smell of breakfast food. You smile to yourself at how much he cares for you, always going above and beyond to make your life as stress free as possible. The one thing he couldn't get you to do was to quit your job. You liked having your own money, despite how much he spoils you. You always felt guilty when he'd spend his money on you.
"Hey pipsqueak, I made you some breakfast." You hear Caleb say from the doorway to your room. "How'd you sleep last night?" He asked, watching as you sat up, tying back your hair to get ready to eat.
"It gets pretty lonely in here at night, but I slept fine. You keep it so cold in this house!" You yell at your best friend, teasing him with a smile on your face.
"You know, pip, you could just come to my room if you were cold." He said.
"I don't want to bother you. You need your sleep too. You work all of the time." Caleb's career was engineering new airplanes. It was a tough job, but he was a smart guy and it earned him a lot of money.
"My work isn't as taxing as that pesky part-time job of yours." He looked at you, with a look you've seen many times before.
"I'm not going to quit my job! I'd understand if I were married to someone, but I'm currently single." You argue. It's always the same argument.
"I made you breakfast in bed and you won't even listen to my concerns." He feigns hurt. You just glare at him, making him snicker.
"You better eat it with me. You made a lot of food." You say, slightly scooting over to make room for him. He smiled at you, walking over to sit on the bed with you. "I'm so glad I don't have work today." You notice Caleb about to say something. "Don't start again. Just let me complain." You stopped him in his tracks, he chuckled to himself.
"You're so stubborn. You know that?" He looked at you, taking a piece of toast from your plate.
"If I weren't I'd be in this house 24/7. You'd never let me out of your sights!" You joked. His face changes in response to that, but you can't quite place the emotion behind it.
"Since you're off today and so am I, would you want to go somewhere today?" He asked you.
"Can we go to the mall? I want to see if they have anything new." You ask.
"Let's get ready after we eat then." He smiled at you.
"Don't buy anything for me, let me get it this time." You say, already knowing he has a plan forming in his head.
"You know I'm not going to agree with that?" He raises his eyebrow at you.
"Well, I can still try!" You fight back.
---------------------
The day was coming to an end and he couldn't be happier. You were so much more beautiful in person. He loved looking at you, feeling your soft skin when he went to hold your hand when you had to cross the road. He regretted not starting off with you dating, but he had to practice patience. He wanted to experience asking you out, getting to see that flustered look on your face that he knows you'd have. Thankfully, he's coded it so that you're finally at a place where getting together is a real possibility. Sexual tension was high, pretty much all of the time. You'd get flustered around him easily, stuttering over your words. And you'd get more uncomfortable with physical touch, like cuddling on the couch while watching a movie. You used to be able to sleep in the same bed as him, but it's becoming harder and harder to resist him, so you stopped. He planned on making it so cold tonight, that you'd have no other choice than to come to him, whining about how cold it was. He'd offer to keep you warm while the apartment heated up and eventually convince you to join him in bed. Like clockwork, he heard the soft rapping of your delicate knuckles on his door. "Come in pips." He says as you open the door to walk in.
"It's so cold Caleb. Are you that warm, you freak?" You say, wrapping your arms around yourself. Caleb couldn't help but stare at your choice of pajamas tonight. You're wearing a purple silk pajama set that hugs your curves perfectly. He mentally thanks himself for getting it for you.
"Maybe if you were wearing warmer pjs, you'd be warmer. Come here, let me warm you up. I'll turn the thermostat up from my phone." He offers.
"Maybe I wouldn't have to layer myself in a winter get up if you'd keep the apartment at a normal temperature." You say, ignoring his offer. You couldn't, you'd somehow embarrass yourself in front of Caleb. He sees you as a sister, so you tried your hardest to keep your feelings hidden from him.
"Don't ignore me, come over here and get warm. It'll just be for a bit." He tries to persuade you. "You've been acting so distant lately, pips, I miss our cuddles." He says, successfully guilt-tripping you. You guessed that you didn't have to punish him just because you couldn't handle not freaking out by any touch he gave you. You crawled into the bed only to be immediately pulled into a massive bear hug with your face squished against his bare chest. Had his pecs gotten bigger? You think yes, but you decide not to point it out because the atmosphere would get very awkward. "See, I don't bite! I don't understand why you haven't let me cuddle you lately." He pulls away slightly to look down at you.
"I just haven't been in a cuddling mood is all." You respond, trying to avoid his eyeline, but no matter where you looked, you were met with him. He was so big, he took up your entire field of vision. So, you had no choice but to turn your head to look up at the ceiling. You felt Caleb start to play with your hair which caused an involuntary sigh of relief from you.
"Didn't you miss the free head scratches though?" He asked, lulling you to sleep by playing with your hair.
"I did. This is the best." Your voice was muffled from having your cheeks squished in between his chest and his bicep. Which, his bicep also seemed to have gotten bigger. He just must have gotten bigger. It's probably because he had to train a lot for when he did basketball during college. As much as you enjoyed being squished by his muscles, you hated the effect it had on you. Your breathing became uneven, you could feel your forehead start to sweat, and your cheeks were on fire. You're just hoping he doesn't take notice and keeps playing with your hair.
"You should move in, officially. That way we can do this every night. Doesn't that sound nice?" He was using all of your favorite things to bribe you!
"It does sound nice, but what's gonna happen when you get a girlfriend? She's not gonna be a fan of me living with you." You argued back.
"What girlfriend. All I need is my pipsqueak." He retorted.
"But you need someone who can give you romance and... um." You trailed off, suddenly remembering your close proximity.
"And... What?" He asked. Of course he had to ask. Fuck it, you're just gonna have to make things awkward.
"Sexual attention." You whispered. You could feel him lightly laugh. "You made me say it!" You defended yourself.
"Let me ask you a question." He said, you looked up at him, the moonlight shining on his face, "Would you ever want to give me those things?" He asked. Your eyes widen. Did he really just ask you that or are you dreaming?!
"You're just messing with me Caleb." You said, trying to justify what he just said to you.
"I'm not, I'm being serious. Don't think I haven't pinned down the real reason you won't go near me anymore. You're not that subtle." He explained making you want to curl up into a ball and die from embarrassment.
"I don't understand where this is coming from." You say, unsure on how to proceed.
"I'm asking if you'll be my partner. My girlfriend." He uses the hand that was playing with your hair to caress your cheek. "You know I can give you the life you deserve, pretty girl. You could quit your job, move in with me. I could keep you safe. You'd never have to lift another finger." His reasoning wasn't needed to persuade you to be his, but it definitely gave you butterflies.
"How long have you felt like this?" You ask, curious as to when this started.
"Since we met, pips." He said. Your mind was blown. Everything started clicking in place in your head. Of course, that's why he's always been so protective of you, making sure boys stay away from you, making sure you got good grades in school, all of it. Everything made sense now and you felt like a fool for not noticing it sooner and just denying anything because you didn't think Caleb saw you as anything other than a little sister. "What's your answer?" He asked.
"Yes, of course I'll be your girlfriend. And this time, it'll be for real." You recalled all of the times he'd have you be his pretend girlfriend to fend off attention.
"Thank goodness, I was afraid you'd say no." Caleb said, putting on his greatest show. Of course he knew you'd say yes, he coded himself to be your perfect man. He did think it would take getting used to living in your hometown rather than in Skyhaven, but he loved it either way because it meant he was by your side.
"You must be blind to think I'd say no." You joked, digging your face into his chest.
"Well, you're a pretty girl, I'll always be nervous." He compliments you. "Are you gonna move in now? Or is my girlfriend gonna get mad that you're living with me?" He teased.
"Yeah, I missed having nightly sleepovers." You yawn from tiredness as you nuzzle into his warmth.
"God princess, your hands are still ice cold." He says as he feels your hands press up against his chest.
"Maybe if someone had kept the temperature at a reasonable degree, my hands wouldn't feel like the arctic ocean." You chide.
"Keep them on my chest and they'll warm up in no time." He somehow managed to pull you closer into his body. You could smell his cologne, faint from being worn all day, but still slightly there. If heaven were real, this would be it. You finally felt the peace you used to feel in Caleb's arms before you started boycotting physical affection from him. It felt like all of the stars had aligned and that you had never had a bad day in your life. His embrace melted all of your worries, stressors, agitators, and depression away. Caleb had always been your home and thank god because you wouldn't want your home to be with anyone else.
