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hey can someone help? it was a neteyam fic where reader was taller when they were kids and told him they gonna mate if hell be taller but the women in readers family were short and the men in neteyams family were tall so he ends up towering over her and i think he was also younger i dont remember
Oh man, I can’t help with this one love, I have no clue. Can yall figure it out? 👀
Thank you sugar daddy part 4😭😭 won’t lie I was secretly hoping she would end up with neteyam but damn part 4 was so good😭😭❤️❤️
Thank you! And you’re welcome!
Also, I contemplated that scenario so many times, but it just didn’t feel right keeping the baby with it playing out like that. And tbh, I wanted to keep the baby loll
Warnings/triggers: MDNI - SLOW BURN. Angst, Violence, Dominance, Pregnancy sex, Threesome, Fingering, Rough Jake, Vulgar language. Not suitable for people under the age of 18.
Plot: We have neared the end of this beautiful story of a young, naive girl who fell in love with her adoptive father. As she has faced many hardship for the decisions she has made, we dive deep into Sugar Daddy Part 4 on the consequences of those decisions. Lets dive deep together, to see just how far she was willing to go.
Word count: 8.8k
Sugar daddy part 4
Previously on… Sugar Daddy
“Y/n… you're pregnant”
You stare at her wide eyed, unable to process what she just said.
“What?!” you shout. And after that you remember nothing as the room around you goes black.
—
You wake up with a searing pain in your skull, unbearable as the pain radiated through your temple, down your neck and into your spine. It felt as if someone, or something hit you in the back of your head. Your eyes flutter open and closed as you come to, the light inside the room you're in is bright and causing even more pain. Quickly closing your eyes you cover your face with your forearm, groaning, using your arms to sit up on your bed. Blinking a few times you look around. You were alone, in your hut. At this moment you couldn't be more confused. You didn't know what day it was, or even begin to remember the events that took place before you woke up alone.
Throwing your legs over the edge of your bed you slump forward, placing your elbows on your knees as you rub the dull pain from your temples. The last thing you remember was someone placing a cold rag on top of your head but you soon passed out again - and it must have been recent considering the bowl used to hold the water still had steam coming from it. Either way your head was pounding and you would do anything in the moment to alleviate it. Standing on feeble legs with little to no strength in your extremities, a strong sense of nausea comes over you. Quickly covering your mouth with your hand, you skip to the water dish in the sink, grabbing a mug you left out to dry and filling it with the water that you collected just a few days prior. By taking two massive gulps you were able to wash down what was coming up, filling your lungs with air after you swallow the last drop. As you're collecting your breath, the beaded curtain to your hut slides open. You turn, eyes bulging out of your head, fearful about who it could be. But you sigh in relief when you see that same short haired quirky girl who somehow always saved you.
“Oh, Kiri.” you catch your breath, “it's just you” Her eyes pop out of her head as she drops armfuls of freshly plucked herbs to run to your side. She was just in time as she wraps her arm around your middle and stops you from collapsing to your knees. You clutch onto her as she transfers you back to your bed to sit.
“Thank you,” you say weakly. Your lips crack when you try to smile. Kiri stands up ticking her tongue at you as she shakes her head. You were ready to hear an earful, but your head was still pounding and you only hoped that she would show you a bit of grace considering you still had no clue why there was a large gap in your memory - and why you were so ill. Kiri turns, fills another glass of water and makes her way back to you on the bed, she hands it to you and you take it with shaking hands. Her heart breaks as she watches you struggle to drink.
“Y/n girl.. This is no good,” she shakes her head. “No good at all” you look at her with confusion, unable to decipher her words.
“W-what is going on?” your voice cracks, dry as if you haven't spoken in days. You begin to sob, your lip pouting. Kiri frowns, taking your hands in hers and kneeling in front of you.
“You mean you don’t remember?” her eyes search yours for an answer, she's met with nothing but silence and that same confused expression. Licking her dry lips she readjusts herself, rubbing her thumb along your clammy skin as you brace for impact.
“Y/n you're pregnant.” She declares finally.
Your head spun as your entire life flashes before your eyes and there was nothing beautiful or forgiving about it. In just a matter of a few words, it was as if the life you always wished for yourself was quickly ripped out of your hands, flying away in the wind and getting further and further from what it should be. The pain you felt in your heart made you clench your chest, doubling over as you begin to dry heave. Kiri rushes to the bowl she left on the floor near your bed and takes the damp cloth to hold to the back of your neck. Your stomach convulses violently but nothing comes up while Kiri does her best to soothe you. And just as quickly as the pain subsided, the tears came right behind it. Warm tears cascaded down your already chapped cheeks, coating them freshly as you found it impossible to stop the sobs. Your shoulders shook as Kiri placed a hand to your skin to calm you. But to no avail. Your life will change and not for the better.
“D-does anyone know? Neteyam? Jake?!” You sob harder, the image of Kiri on her knees blurry and barely visible. All you could make out was a quick shake of her head.
“No... eywa no. I’ve been here, taking care of you since last night. I haven’t even had time to get you herbs,” she squeezes your hand. “I’ve been too afraid to leave your side, you’re dehydrated.. malnourished,'' she pauses and leans in further. Her voice is slightly more sharp but still gentle.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Who’s child is it?”
And there it is, the burning question. Whose child are you carrying? Who have you decided to go against tradition with and mate to the point of pregnancy, without a proper ceremony? Who did you choose to live a difficult life with? These questions could simply be answered had the person you’ve been with was someone other than Jake. However, the only person you’ve slept with in the last year has been him. It’s always been him. The thought of the betrayal and the deception between you two makes the vomit come back up. But in good faith you swallow it down, looking Kiri in the eye.
“He’s no one of importance… I will handle it” you say. Attempting to stand to your feet. You’re quickly knocked back down, your legs clearly too weak to hold your weight. Kiri places a firm hand on your shoulder, keeping you seated.
“You’ll handle it? How so? This isn’t a joke, he’s clearly of importance considering you bear his child. Out of wedlock no less.” You know her words come from a good place. But it doesn’t help you any, the truth isn’t what’s going to solve the problem. It isn’t going to make it all disappear.
God you just wanted to disappear.
Closing your eyes a lone tear falls in your lap. You look up with red and swollen eyes.
“I will handle it.” You say again, less confident this time. “And you must keep this to yourself until I do… please Kiri” you attempt to stand to your feet once more but she forces you down.
“Do not stand…” she says firmly, looking down at you. “The child's heartbeat is weak.”
Her words shouldn’t bother you but they do. You only just found out that you’re carrying Jake's baby, but the knowledge of their heart being weak settles you and you stay seated.
“I can handle you not telling me who the child’s father is… trust me.” Wringing the wet cloth out and dabbing the sweat off your forehead. “But I cannot fathom the thought of this baby in any danger… you must rest.”
There was so much finality in her words as she turned, bending down to collect the herbs she abandoned previously. You had so many questions, they were at the tip of your tongue but you couldn't find the words to speak. Instead you sat and watched as she gathered the last bit of herbs and made her way to the door. She turns to you one final time.
“Your secret is safe with me, but your belly will swell and there is only so much I can do to protect you. So please,” she gulps. “For the sake of the child's life… for his life. Take care of yourself.”
He?! She knows it's a boy? Of course she knew. It's Kiri we’re talking about. She has been able to predict every child's gender in the clan before they were born, and everytime everyone is always just as shocked as the last when it turns out she was right all along. There was no doubt that her words were the truth.
There was no telling when Kiri started taking on the role of being your savior, but as far as you can remember, she's always done it. It was astounding really, to see the love and admiration she held for you in her heart. Her being younger than you never made a single difference, and it only hurt you further to know that you just lied to her. Kiri of all people. And it wouldn't be long until she finds out the truth on her own.
She leaves without another word and as you watch her disappear around the corner, you finally suck in cold air and exhale every emotion you've ever felt and cry. You wailed clutching your belly, heartbroken and shattered at the choices you've made, the choices you and Jake made together. It was only a matter of time before he came back for you, so there was no way you could hide forever. You could run away, yes. But you would only make it so far with a swollen belly, unable to carry even a month's worth of food. Either way you had to do something and you knew in your mind that it had to be drastic, otherwise you and your baby would be doomed. In the end of it all, you didn't have just yourself to worry about any longer.
–
10 weeks later…
The days dragged on. The same routine as usual, the only difference was the life growing inside you. Rapidly at that, on top of it getting increasingly more difficult to hide from your family. Everyone except Kiri of course as she's been taking care of you. It was still a bit too early to show fully however, there was a slight noticeable bump in your belly, almost like you swallowed a banana fruit whole without chewing. So today when you went for your rounds around the village, you put on your shawl and head out for the day, in hopes that you don't run into anyone you weren't prepared to have a conversation with.
Walking out of your hut, basket in hand to collect herbs for the day, you run face first into a solid form. The wind knocked out of you as the basket you were holding tumbles to the ground.
“I’m sorry!” you shout, without looking up at the stranger. Bending down you reach for your basket, only for your hands to be swallowed with much larger ones gently placed on top of yours. Looking down at those hands, you recognize the bracelet that you yourself made for the person you found dearest to your heart. The one you've been working day in and day out to avoid. Those were the beads and woven tree bark that you spent countless hours on that you would recognize anywhere. “Jake,” you whisper to yourself, jumping back, removing your hands from his. Yourshawl fell to your sides as you stood straight, looking him in his face. At first you didn't know what to expect. You half expected to see an expression of anger, or agony. Maybe even confusion, but when your eyes locked on his face, you found that he wasn't looking at yours in return. His eyes locked solid on the little bump that had begun to form in your lower belly, an expression painted as horror on his face. Your heart drops as you meet his eyes, quickly looking away and covering yourself with your shawl. This should be the moment where you explain, where you begin to sob and clarify your absence for these last several weeks. But as usual he stole your breath with just one look. And before you could react or form a solid thought, Jake places one palm against your belly, the other against your lower back, keeping you steady and pushes you backwards into your hut. The beaded curtain falling loudly into place behind him.
You both stood silently, the only sound was your heavy breathing as he searched your face for an answer. But he quickly realized that he wasn't going to find one considering you've been avoiding him for weeks. He looks down at his hand placed firmly on your belly, his hips flush with yours. He gulps, looking at you.
“Baby,” he shakes his head. “What is this?”. His hand on your belly shakes as he feels the tiny bump. You shook your head with shame, putting your head down as the embarrassment settled in the deepest pit of your stomach. Pinching your chin between his fingers, he lifts your face to his.
“What is this?” he repeats. Removing his hand from your chin and placing it back on your belly. Quickly, without another thought, you slap his hands away, turning your back to him. He was taken aback by the sudden action so he just stood there. Far more confused than he was before. He steps closer, but careful not to get too close out of fear that you'll bolt.
“Baby, a-are you pregnant?” you don't respond, wrapping your arms around your torso. Jake begins to panic. As a father of three he knew what a healthy growing bump looked like. And he’d bet his hat that what he was seeing is as true as it can get.
“It's mine isn't it?” He takes another step. “Tell me, please.”
There was a long pause as you wracked your brain for an explanation. A part of you wanted to blurt the truth, to set yourself free from the restraints of this intricate secret. But to allow Jake to know the truth would be accepting your fate all too easily. It just wasn't that simple. Wiping your tears with the back of your hand you gather enough courage to turn and face him. The once emotional and sorrow filled woman now replaced with the emotions of someone who has already lost everything. Swallowing thickly you look at him, your feelings never wavering.
“It's not yours,”
The air ran still, the sounds of nature drowning out your thoughts of self sabotage. You didn't know where you were taking this situation but you didn't care, either. You thought anything could be better than him knowing the truth of your conception but the look on his face when you dropped those words on him said something else. Maybe he does care enough to raise a child with you and you weren't just a hot piece of flesh for him when he craved it most. You knew well enough that it will never be the way you envisioned but it wouldn't hurt to daydream, especially in a time like this. And for that reason alone it gave you enough strength to stand tall and end everything, if it meant it was protecting your child. The life growing inside you was all you had left now.
Standing tall, refusing to hide your small bump any longer, you square your shoulders and tip your chin up.
“My baby is not yours,” you say confidently. “I'm sorry”. In your mind that was the tell all be all and his lack of response almost solidified it. That is until you're pinned to the wall behind you. Your arms trapped above your head, an angry and bewildered Jake practically snarling in front of you. You wince at the slight pain in your wrists and try to ignore the obnoxious thumping sensation between your legs. It took a lot sometimes to admit that you possibly had a problem, considering this shouldn't turn you on. But seeing this side of Jake, it was almost impossible to ignore it. Despite all that you attempt to shove him off but he doesn't move a muscle.
“Jake the baby,” you breathe. He lets up slightly, his eyes trailing down to your small belly, bulging to meet his firm torso. He growls in response leaning into your neck and taking a deep whiff of your scent. He groans.
“Smells like mine,” he takes another deep breath. “I know that's because it is mine.”
You struggle against him, your breath catching in your throat as your now hard and erect nipples rub against his chest. You could only pray that he doesn't notice the obvious shiver cascading down your legs, your sore, hormone riddled nipples weakening your resolve. You couldn't afford to lose so of course you stick to your story.
“I told you, it isn't yours.” The words spewed out between your teeth. It came out more aggressive than you intended but you were desperate. Unfortunately this doesn't work in your favor as it just causes him to tighten his grip on your already aching wrists. The pain causes your mouth to fall open and your thighs to squeeze shut, pinching the little bundle of nerves nestled in your folds.
“I don't like liars, baby girl and this isn't something you can lie to me about,” he lowers his lips to your ear, sucking the flesh lightly.
“I can smell the seed of my child growing in your belly, my scent is leaking out of your pores. Now tell me, tell me it's mine and we can put this all behind us.”
“And for what, Jake? You want me to tell you the baby is yours and then what?! Are you going to run away with me with our baby? Ride off into the sunset with your hands on my swollen belly? Announce to the clan that we’re expecting? You?, an already mated man with four children. The Olo’ektan. Huh? Is that what's going to happen Jake?”
He lets go of your hands and they drop to your sides. He pinches the skin between his eyes and takes a deep breath before placing both hands on his hips.
“I’m not saying we can have any of those things, I'm not saying I can promise you a life of happiness and I know, I know it's selfish of me. But what do you expect me to do when the love of my life stands in front of me after she's avoided me for weeks now pregnant with my baby and lies to my face about it!”
Your bottom lip wobbles as you fold it between your teeth knowing his words are true but just not able to accept that reality for yourself.
“I don’t know how to make this right, I wish I did. Fuck I wish I did, baby,” he surrounds your face with his big hands, gently placing his forehead against yours, breathing in your air. You should have pushed him away, you wanted to but the warmth of him and the sound of his beating heart stops you from running away and shutting him out and to be honest you just didn't have the strength anymore. Your hands come up to cup his wrists, closing your eyes as a stray tear falls down your face - his big thumb wiping it away as he pulls away from you slightly, his lips brushing against yours.
“Just let us have this, please. I'll figure everything else out. I swear to you I will. But do not expect me to walk around here with the knowledge that you carry my child and expect me to do nothing about it. It's already difficult enough to accept that you hid it from me for so long. I’m telling you right now this running away shit isn't going to work. I promise you. If you try to run I’ll find you and I’ll drag your stubborn ass right back here, kicking and screaming as I take you over my knee in front of the whole clan and show you how serious I am.”
One thing about Jake? His natural dominance always excites you. Even in the most inappropriate times, like now. It wasn't so much as being told what to do, but instead it was the thought that if he really wanted to he could show you your place with him without batting an eye and he just proved that. So you decide, instead of fighting, you were going to let him figure it out. Just like he said he was going to. And it might be the worst decision you make in this whole situation but you didn't care in the moment and you'll deal with the consequences when you were in a better frame of mind and not in front of the feral man who now knows that you're pregnant with his baby.
You nod your head in response which makes Jake show that godly smile of his as he scoops you into his arms and spins you around. He whispers into your neck. “Fuck, I love you.” which in tune made you giggle and for once you didn't give a shit about what could happen from all this. The least you deserve is a moment of happiness.
–
The days meddled together seamlessly, not without difficulty of course considering you had a rapidly growing belly with no man to claim the child as there's. You tried hard to ignore the snide remarks and whispered snickers of those around you, but you could only continue the tail of putting on a few pounds being village bound for so long. In reality you knew it wasn't going to be feasible for long. Either way there was nothing that could be done considering the circumstances, so you went about your days as would have had you not been in this predicament.
“Hello? Are you even listening to me?” for a moment you forgot you had company. I mean, it wasn't like Neteyam was a man of many words anyways, he usually let you sit in silence trapped in your own mind most of the time. So there was no telling why he was so talkative today. Snapping out of your daydream you turn to him, “I’m listening Te, I've just been a bit tired lately” a half truth really but he didn't need to know details, everyone else seemed to put their two senses in about your situation but not Neteyam. It's either he really is clueless or he's playing dumb for your sake, regardless of reality he was always a pleasure to be around, with him you were able to feel normal for once, even if it was just for a short while. He was silent for a moment, threading his fingers in your hair as you sat snuggly in between his spread knees. “I know, tired might be an understatement, though. I can barely keep you awake now. What is it that's taking the energy out of you? Hm?” closing your eyes you lean back into his warm chest, this was something that came natural for the two of you, you practically raised each other after your parents died and the Sully’s took you in. Neteyam always opened his arms to you, that's why he was the one you were always closest with.
Realizing you have yet to answer his question you clear your throat, changing the subject. “Don't you have drills to run as a future clan leader?” sitting up you move from in between his legs. “You should get going, it's late and we have a big day tomorrow.” You're stopped by a firm but gentle hand on your wrist, your eyes landing where he holds you, looking up to then meet his gaze. He wore an expression you couldn't put a name to, but one of concern or curiosity even. You tried to pull away.
“Why do you avoid my questions?” he asks. Pulling you a little closer, again not being out of the ordinary to be this close to him. But for some reason the heat that you could feel coming of him made you nervous. Almost as if this meant something entirely different to Neteyam. Despite the growing warmth in your cheeks you don't attempt to pull away this time but you refuse to look at him. Tired of having to keep such a big and forbidden secret from the ones you care about most.
Taking your chin between his thumb and index finger he pulls your gaze up to meet his, quickly dropping his hand to his side.
“Why won’t you talk to me?” he whispers, dropping his chin to level his eyes with yours. You hesitate for a moment but you hold eye contact, flashing him your gummy smile as you begin to push him toward the door. “Nothing a little rest won’t fix, don't you go worrying your little head brother,” you push him out the door as he turns to you, fixating on your exhausted features, his brows pulling at the center of his forehead.
“I’m fine Neteyam really, now go.” he reluctantly steps backwards, staring at you.
“I’m here for you, you know that right?” he pauses, “no matter what.”
He has no clue what he's saying, if he knew the truth he’d push you away, probably have you shunned from the clan for what you did. For all you know he's trying to make you come clean so he can expose yours and his fathers treacherous behavior to the entire clan. There isn't a time to be more careful than right at this moment. Flashing him a smile you being to close your door on him, “night Te.” and as he disappears behind the wooden barrier you sink to your knees, new tears now coating your now hot cheeks and all you can think about is how much you don’t deserve such a precious person like Neteyam, or his family.
–
Today was a big day for your family. Today is the day that Neteyam is officially declared Jake's heir as the clan's next Olo’eyktan. As typical as this event is for your family and the clan, it should be a piece of cake. But the aching pains in your gut tells you nothing about tonight is going to rule in your favor. Besides the fact that you'll be surrounded by watching eyes and several questions, you chose to at least try to see the light in it all. After all this event wasn't about you, which in tune, may make it a little easier to deal with. Considering all eyes will be on Neteyam. Hopefully.
Grabbing your shawl, the one item of clothing you own that won’t give you away due to the cooler temperatures at night, has become your saving grace trying to hide this pregnancy.
You step out into the chilly night, taking a deep breath of the crisp air, saying a silent prayer to yourself that you socially survive tonight's endeavors. It may be a bit dramatic and you may just be over-reacting. But the little life inside you says otherwise as his firm foot kicks your bladder. The feeling isn't something you’re used to yet, this was your first child, first pregnancy. This was all new to you. You can't help but wonder to yourself that if you have a hard time forgetting he’s there, then how can you convince others that he isn't. On the bright side, no one knows so keeping the shawl where it's at is your only concern for now. You decide to ignore the dancing bean inside you and make your way to the village circle, unchaperoned. By choice.
You’e bewildered at the fact that the walk to the village circle is pleasant. Quite relaxing actually. The sound of the wildlife soothes you, bringing you back to a place where your childhood was peaceful, and quite like it used to be. It's moments like this when you miss your parents. The sully’s stepped in tremendously after the war, and even though you shut Neytiri out as a mother, she still made you feel like a part of her. The thought of her alone steals you from the peace you could only feel for a moment. But the heartache and sorrow doesn't last long when you hear hushed whispers in the distance.
Following the covert conversations and hash ‘Shh”. you step closer. You can't help the feeling that whoever is it, shouldn't be doing what they're doing. Luckily you've never been the type to eavesdrop but you do have the skill of being undetected which has benefited you thus far. Rounding a large fallen tree you jump into a clear view of the hushed voices. Causing them to jump out of their skin, one of the figures in front of you, shielding the smaller frame hunched behind him. Your smile fading, you almost weren’t surprised by who you found.
“Lo’ak, what are you doing and who’s…” he cuts you off before you can finish. “S-she's just a friend!.
By the look on her face, it said more than that. She goes to protest but he silences her, holding his hand up to which she shrinks back into her place. Knowing you won’t get the full truth out of this knucklehead you choose not to pry.
“Okay, well make it quick, you're supposed to be at the ceremony on time.” The look of relief that covers his face tells you that you'd rather not know what exactly is truly going on. But that doesn't stop you from teasing him. Turning back to him you ask. “Oh! Kiri wanted me to ask, how's that rash down there going?”. You point to his privates.
“Rash?!” the girl shouts, coming from behind his large frame. He may be large in height but now she's pissed and her expression alone makes Lo’ak look like a child being scolded. He tries to satiate her, pleading with her that it's a joke, defending a rash that you know doesn't even exist. It was a good joke and a good laugh that you needed. He can consider this a debt paid from the last prank he pulled on you. Smiling like a villain, you walk away to take your place in the village circle, leaving Lo’ak to fend for himself.
You decided to take your time in the forest, following the lit path of bioluminescent flora, running your hands through the dense foliage. You just weren't ready to face your “family”, you willed your feet to pick up the pace or you'd be late for the ceremony and as you did, a faint sound in the distance caught your attention. As you listened closely you realized that they were footsteps. Fast approaching footsteps. You had a burning sensation that someone was on your heels so you bolted, running as fast as you can to the ceremony. But just as quickly as you could see the large fire and your people dancing in the distance, it turned into a heavy body knocking you down into the tall grass, their weight crushing you as you tried to shield your growing belly from the cold, hard ground. You go to scream but it's stopped by a large sweaty hand, it wasn't sweet or gentle, it was hard and aggressive as if this person was actually trying to hurt you. This scared you even more and it willed you to fight against this attacker. Thrashing and kicking you scream as hard as you can through his hand but he doesn't budge, his grip only tightens.
“Stay still” he growls, placing both of his legs on either side of your waist, pressing his hands into the back of your head, your mouth filling with dirt. “I’ll kill you if you make a sound.” You obey but there is no way you'll falter and let this mystery attacker overpower you. Just as if luck were on your side, his finger slips into your mouth and you bite down on the fragile flesh. Hard. He wails and lets you go. Getting to your feet you make a run for it. Dashing through the trees as fast as your swollen and now cut up legs would allow.
Your lungs cried and your chest struggled to fill with air as you bumped your body to its full capacity. Before you could register how fast you were actually running, your small frame was grasped into warm strong hands. Looking up you see Neteyam, a worried look in his eyes as he guides your falling body down to the ground. The bright fire around you dims, and the voices become more hushed as your eyes close and the energy quickly leaves your exhausted body. And then there was nothing.
-
You wake to your family surrounding you. The room was dim and humming from Mo’at filled your ears, her firm hands placed on your belly. Your vision fogged as if you were drugged, nothing in the room was focusing. Even the faces around you made you wonder if they were truly there. All you could think of is how unlucky you are. Why, you? Why does this keep happening to you?
Suddenly the realization that you were attacked becomes your soul focus. Sitting up with a wail lodged in your throat, you clutch your womb. Incoherent words coming out of your mouth. Mo’at tried soothing you but to no avail.
“Leave us!” She orders the others in the room.
“But” you heard a male voice say in a worried protest. You were so out of it it could have been Jake, or even Neteyam. None of that matters right now. Only the life that grows inside you is the center of all your worry. All the heartache and hiding. The room grows quiet, dry warm hands pulling your face up to hers.
“Breathe child, breath.” Mo’at takes a deep breath, urging you to mimic her movements. With time your heart begins to slow and the loud pounding in your eyes begins to subside. Your breathing evens out and the sweat dries on your brow. Closing your eyes you take a deep breath, going back once again to clutch your belly.
“Mo’at I-” she hushes you, holding up her hand. “The child is fine.” Your gaze follows her around the room as she stands, closing the door to the hut. Gulping a large lump down your throat you freeze. Refusing to look in her eyes. She must understand the magnitude of your situation and she crouches in front of you. Silent as she waits for you to calm yourself.
“How long did you plan on keeping this a secret”. She asks. It's evident in her voice that she knows more than she's letting on. You swallow the lump in your throat, searching her eyes for any semblance of a bluff, but nothing to this magnitude could get past Mo’at. She knew everything after all. You're filled with shame as your world that you so carefully built begins crashing down. A sob is stuck in your lungs screaming to get out. Mo’at places her warm hand against your cheek, your tears coating her wrinkled skin.
“My child…” she brings your small frame into her hold, cupping the back of your head as you sobbed into her chest. You cried so hard and for so long you didn't realize the crowd that began to form in the room. Everyone started pooling in one by one. Kiri, Lo’ak, Neteyam; but you just didn't care anymore. They all must know at this point as you still have no clue how long you were out for. Mo’at stands, leaving you to cry, but her warmth is soon replaced by another. Looking up your breath catches in your throat, the last person you would have thought to come and see you was kneeling right in front of you. Her expression is unreadable but not as cold as ice like you expected. Jake, her mate standing right behind her.
“N-neytiri…” you stutter, edging back to create the distance you so desperately needed from her radiating heat. She rolls her eyes, scooting closer, grabbing your hand in hers.
“Jake,” she pauses for a moment. “Jake has told me… us, about the two of you”. Your eyes widen, the room around you becoming smaller, too many people too close together to properly breathe. You start to hyperventilate again, your lungs constricting by the second. Neytiri snickers, shushing you. “No, do not do that. Remember the baby, you need to think about this baby.” Her words don’t sound forgiving but they also don’t sound forced. Taking a deep breath you close your eyes, willing yourself to gather your composure, “Neytiri I-” you began but she held up her hand stopping you. “Enough, there’s nothing to say,” she scoots closer to you, gabbing your other hand now. “This has happened for a reason, Eywa has made her decision, it is not up to us to question that. You have nothing to explain to me. It is between you, Jake and Eywa”. She looks around the room at her mother, her children and then to her husband. They say nothing but you can see it in their eyes that they are communicating. Something they always did when they were figuring something out. She taps your hands lightly into your lap and stands to her feet, turning to everyone in the room.
“Understand that I am not happy about this, if I didn't carry the will of Eywa within and if I didn't already consider you family,” she declares looking at you. “I would have had your head a long time ago”.
Your gaze shoots up to her, locking eyes with her for the first time.
“A long time ago? You mean you've known about this?”. You look to Jake and back to Neytiri. “About us?”.
She nods her head once, grabbing Jake's hand.
“He told me the moment he realized he loved you.”
You can’t quite understand what was happening, you couldn't wrap your head around the fact that the secret you thought you kept so well has been well known throughout your family since the beginning. You couldn't understand how you were still breathing, how Neytiri hadn't put her arrow through your heart. None of this was making sense. Your thoughts are interrupted once more.
“I am willing to share him… with you” she declares suddenly. “It is not unheard of, it has happened many times over in the history of the Na’vi. It is possible and it does work. Although I wish it happened under different circumstances, like I said, it has happened for a reason. I have no say in how or why it happens”. She grabs your hand, bringing you to your feet, placing her firm hand on your growing belly. “You carry the child of the man we both love and I will do what I will to make him happy, if that means to allow you in his life, I will do that.” She looks at Jake. “No questions asked”. You're too stunned to speak, all words you've ever learned in your vocabulary gone straight out the window as if you never spoke at all. You couldn't help but think that for once, everything will be okay.
-
Your body radiated heat as you awoke from deep slumber, the sun shines through the windows, its rays tanning your blue skin. For a second you forgot where you were, that was until your slow movements began to wake the body next to you. Eyes opening slowly you see her, smiling and holding your bulging belly, your baby boy greeting her with a subtle kick. In return you smile at her, offering a slow blink of gratitude.
“She's awake.” Neytiri declares, looking over just in time as Jake saunters into the bedroom. His chest is bare, beads of sweat cascading down his chiseled form, his mood from before slightly changed as he sees his women before him, your legs intertwined into each other, wrapped as if you were made as one. You didn't notice at first but Neytiri’s hands began to roam. Searching your body as if there was a discovery to be made. Closing your eyes you relish in the feeling of being wanted, to be touched with no consequences of said actions. It was a feeling that became all too unfamiliar, something you didn't know you needed anymore; something you craved. All you knew in this moment was you didn't want it to stop. God, please don't stop.
“She’s ready too.” Jake coo’s. He walks over to the both of you, placing one knee on the bed as his palms fall to the slides of your waist. Neytiri continues to stroke you, placing slow kisses upon your neck and cheek. She only breaks free from pampering you to meet Jake half way and give him her mouth too. They share a slow and passionate kiss, a moment much too long as there wasn't enough attention on you anymore. They stop, looking down at you. You didn't notice you were writhing, craving their touch as well. Small whimpers escaped you, your back arching in search of their touch, your hooded eyes locked on the both of them. This was a trio you never expected. You expected your rotting body to be swallowed by the nature of the planet after Netiri murdered you but that day never came. Not to watch her as she moves your loin cloth to the side, sending a small nod to Jake and guiding him between your legs by his shoulder.
You watch intently, awaiting for the first lick. The anticipation is killing you. Neytiri could see in your eyes that you need a release, to which she moves her delicate hands up your middle and between your breasts as she sets them free in one swift motion. She leans forward, careful of the big belly in between you and places a small kiss at the top of your breast. Small whimpers accompany the buckling of your hips, wondering what was taking Jake so long to soothe your arousal. Neytiri snickers. “Patience, my love. We can see what you need,” she whispers only for you. “Your body speaks more words than your pretty mouth ever could.”
Her head drops and her warm mouth closes around your erect nipple. The electric sensation that runs through you sends a shiver down your spine and forces your toes to curl. Just when you thought the over stimulation couldn't get anymore unbearable, Jake decides is the right time to lap up your heat in one fell swoop, coming off the top with a “flick” just like you like it. He always does it just how you need it. Your breath catches in your throat. “Oh!” you moan, your dainty fingers grabbing fistfuls of the sheets. Neytiri continues her gentle but firm assault to your swollen buds as Jake moans into your soft wet flesh. He is trying with every fiber of his being to be gentle with your condition, he knows just how precious the life you carry inside you is.
The speed of which your hips move only increases as Jake works your folds, sucking and spitting; licking in every which way. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, incoherent nothings falling from your lips; that Neytiri chooses to swallow when she closes her mouth around yours, her tongue fighting for dominance against your desperate cries of pleasure. Before you know it that coil snaps, Jake swallows your release with enthusiasm. He places a kiss to your inner thigh before coming up from between your legs, his chin and chest glistening with your cream.
“Do you want to taste how sweet she is, my love?” he asks Neytiri. Cupping the back of her neck and pulling her in for a hot, more aggressive kiss. His eyes don't leave yours as his tongue dances with Neytiri’s, he makes sure to watch every second of the way you respond to your lovers. Neytiri returned the kiss with just as much energy and devotion as he did, moaning into Jake's mouth at the taste of you. Pulling yourself up to your elbows with what your belly would allow. You watch with interest how their bodies move with one another. Neytiri’s hand has made its way into Jake's loincloth, slowly stroking him. But he's watching you, his eyes never left you for one second. He breaks the kiss, firmly grabs Neytiri by the throat and forces her down next to you. You go to get up, in hopes to return the favor to her as she did to you, but you're stopped by a strong demanding voice.
“Stay.” Jake orders, his fingering pointing down for you to take your place again. Final and firm with no hesitation. You do as you're told, as daddy’s orders get obeyed. Gently he lifts your hips and adjusts them just right between his legs, your thighs resting just atop of his. His eyes lock on your swollen and already pleasures flesh, biting his lips as he collects just enough of your release to coat and stroke his hard cock with. He readies himself but he makes you wait, doing the same to Neytiri as he guides her hips right next to yours. Perfectly aligning them together. Taking her leg he places it on his shoulder, stroking her inner thigh until he makes his way down to her heat. His thick fingers slip in, first two, then three and then his infamous fourth finger, assaulting her wanting walls but gently as she coo’s into the air from the pleasure. Once satisfied by the way she sounds, Jake turns his attention to you. You were so lost in what that looked like, you forgot that his big throbbing cock was just inches from your opening.
“Daddy’s up here baby.” he said, taking your attention from watching how he pleases Neytiri. You were so close to feeling like that… So close. From the time it took for you to pay attention, Jake took his cock in his hand, his eyes heavy with arousal as he swiped it up your folds, coating himself just enough to slide in, you didn't realize just how close you actually were. You began to squirm, you may be wet but Jake was big and it's been so long since he's been inside you, you weren't sure if it was even safe anymore. Jake could sense the hesitation but he didn't have to utter a word. Neytiri places her palm to your cheek, turning your face to hers; her mouth parted and hardly able to utter a word. She was right there. “Let him,” she says. “Let him make you feel good too.” You forgot his movements on her an quickly realize how fast he was fucking her pussy, in and out with his thick fingers. Her breasts bounced with the velocity. She distracts you once more by kissing your lips gently, forcing a growl from Jake’s throat. His cock slightly pushed its way there. Locking eyes with Neytiri, you nod your head at her but the response was for Jake. He took no time to listen as he pushed his wet, thick cock into your waiting pussy. The sound of your sex filling the room, joining Neytiri in ultimate pleasure. Your lips fall apart with her as you both moan into each other's mouths. Your hand is now gripping her thin wrist, your tight lips sucking Jake all the way in. His head falls back as his brows pinch together and just for a moment, his hips stutter. It's been a long time for him too. He’s missed you, Missed the way you fit perfectly around him as if you were made just for him. He missed the way you screamed his name when he made you come. He needed it, like a carnivore in heat. He needed to swallow you whole and this just isn't close enough for him.
His thrusts pick up quicker than you expected. Your belly surprisingly not becoming an issue with how well and deep he can fuck you. He continues to get Neytiri there, her moans drowning out the sounds around you as she comes hard on his hand. Her release pooling in the palm of his hand. She never lets you go, she holds you closer, taking you through it.
“Such a good girl,” he whimpers breathlessly. Stroking the damp skin on your cheeks. “Does that feel good? Hm”. You nod your head in response. “Say it, tell him how good that beautiful cock feels, go ahead.”
You moan louder as he shifts his hips just slightly, fucking you deeper and harder than he ever has before. Breaking your eye contact with Neytiri, you lock eyes with him, really looking at him this time after all that's happened. He's desperate, he's holding back and you know it. Reaching up with all the strength you have, you cup the back of his neck and pull him down to your level. His hot body pressed against yours as much as it can be.
“Daddy,” you moan, kisses him once for good measure. He moans into your mouth, that familiar stutter of his hips becoming more noticeable. “You make me feel so good daddy,” he bites his lips, his moans becoming uncontrollable, causing the heat inside you to flood to the surface. You were both close. “Can I come for you daddy?”
His pupils explode and his nostrils flare, the beast comes out full force as his strokes knock the wind out of you. He made sounds you've never heard before accompanied by the sound of your flesh meeting. Gripping your throat with his strong hands he turns your head to the side to say one thing.
“Yes.” he growls, his balls ready to explode inside you. “Come for daddy,” he demands.
With his permission alone and the subtle licks and kisses placed on your neck from Neytiri, you come hard. No sound could compare to the animalistic wail that escaped from your chest. It sucks the soul right out of Jake as he releases inside you, coming with a grunt and growl as yout pussy sucks him dry. Clenching around every inch of him.
“So good,” Neytiri coo’s. “The both of you.”
You never knew you needed that kind of praise from her until now. She was now your lover too and you were in it for the long haul.
Jakes moves slow and his heavy breathing subsides. He slides out and off of you and lays his heavy body next to you, his skin slick with sweat and your arousal. You all lay there, pleased and exhausted, no words spoken. It was the most beautiful feeling. Peace. So peaceful you didn't realize you all fell asleep, naked and warm.
-
The next morning…
You were woken up by pain radiating down your back and to your legs. At first it was bearable but as time went on it continued to progress. Slowly getting up you maneuver your way from in between Jake and Neytiri, standing to walk over to the water dish in the middle of the room. Before you could reach it, that pain has now turned into agonizing pain, so bad that it knocks the wind out of you and pulls an unflattering sound from your throat.
“Mm, ow…” attempting to stand straight, you waddle to the closet and grab your shawl, throwing it over your shoulders. The room around you began to heat and your vision began to blur. That's when it hits you. Placing your hand on your belly you can feel how tight it is.
“The baby.” you whisper to yourself. You try to call out to Jake but a contraction takes your efforts and you double over clutching your hard belly. “Ow ow!” … “J-jake!” you somehow get out, trying to get back to the bed before you fall.
He’s up before you finish calling for him, neytiri right behind him. You can’t speak as the pain doesn't stop.
“The baby?!” He says. “The baby’s coming?!”
You nod your head as you place your palm in both of their hands. Jake and Neytiri share a look and smile at one another as they walk you to the door to get to Mo’at. Your head falls back as another contraction hits, snapping them out of their own silent celebration. Jake wraps his arm around your waste and says,
Just when you think, only friends was a thing. Neteyam has no problem reminding you that NOTHING is how it seems
⚠️MDNI
2.2k words
Warning: Feral Neteyam: Deepthoart:Cnc:Dirty talk:Dom neteyam & human reader
The lab was quiet, cold and too sterile. It should have been something you were used to but it just never sufficed. You were surrounded by harsh chemicals and beaming metal, slowly losing awareness as the days melted together.
Lost in your own thoughts as you study a sample, you would have been stuck for hours had a tap on the glass window not broken you out of your trance. You look up to see that same bright and gleaming smile, one that you could never get over.
Neteyam.
You return the smile, standing to your feet to slide the glass window open, ensuring to tighten your mask.
“What are you doing here?” You ask enthusiastically. Neteyam steps through, crouching over the threshold before standing to his full height. You couldn’t help but notice the sweat on his brow and his clothes a bit disheveled. You cock your head to the side, studying him closely.
“Are you okay? What happened?” He flashes that same unique smile and plops down on the lab floor, his strong legs separating as he gets comfortable.
“Viperwolves.” He says. Leaning his head back, that gummy smile only grew bigger. You roll your eyes.
“One of these days, those things are gonna take a limb off,” you step in between his legs, searching for any fresh wounds, something you always did because when he came to the lab that’s what he was seeking, medical attention.
“Na, I’m too fast, girl. you know that.”
He leans his head back allowing your hands to take its course. You did the routine skin check for any bumps or bruises, it was no surprise that he was flawless as usual. It was almost annoying. He giggles as he notices your slight frustration.
“Seriously, it’s not funny, one of these days I won’t be able to help you.” You step from in between his legs and sit back at your desk, annoyed with his carelessness. He knows how you feel about it.
“You know we’re lacking in medical supplies, your skin is like leather, no human needle or thread will be useful to me had you actually gotten hurt.” Shaking your head you turn to him. Only this time his expression is changed, he’s no longer laid back and relaxed. His hands hang freely in between his knees as he studies you closely, as if you were a prey that he’s been hunting. Gulping nervously you avert your gaze turning back to your work.
“You know, your little visits are starting to stress me out. I never know if you're here to see me, need medical attention or have girl troubles.”
His back straightened, a rumble in his throat forming.
“Girl troubles? That was one time. I got what I needed and threw her to the side, nothing more nothing less.”
His words are as thoughtless as they sound. Neteyam was a hopeless romantic, you knew once his heart was set on a girl, he sunk his fangs in her and didn’t let go, even after she bled. Some might think that’s sweet, but no one really knows Neteyam like you do. He was sweet looking on the outside but there was something feral within him. Something that he hasn’t even shown you, his best friend. Sinister.
You ignore him, hearing the story one too many times to care. But the silence wasn’t silent. His presence couldn’t go ignored. You always wondered if he knew how you felt about him. Wondered if it was like a scent that he could smell, after all - he could smell fear from a mile away. What made this any different? Regardless of the fact, you kept your composure. He was your friend and that was it. Nothing more than a medical kit and a personal diary.
You realize you’re thinking too far into it and change the subject.
“Did you get to use your new bow yet? I’m sure Kiri’s been waiting on your critique of her work.”
Neteyam notices the change in your voice, in your smell. He gets closer, moving in silence in hopes you don’t notice.
“Yeah…” he pauses. “I broke it.”
“Neteyam,” you say frustrated, turning to him. Only to be met with him just inches from your face. You lean back, your hands falling on the edge of the desk. Cupping the edge you watch as his hand comes up, his fingers brushing a hair behind your ear just slightly. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, a noticeable one.
His smile fades at your body’s obvious desires and he scoots closer, his nose finding its way to your throat. You extended your neck to get away, not understanding how this even makes sense that this escalated so quickly.
His eyes are focused on anything but your face, they roam over your lips, your nose, the slight rise and fall of your chest.
“I can smell that, you know.” He finally says. Your eyes dart to his and you gulp.
“S-smell what?” You ask, watching as his hand glides down the side of your throat to the middle of your chest and down in between your breasts. He taps his finger in the middle of your sternum, his eyes meeting yours in a drunken gaze.
“Your arousal.”
Almost animal-like, he wiggles his way closer, placing his hands on either side of your waist, eliminating any chance of you escaping had you wanted to.
“Do I do that to you?” He asks smoothly. A hint of impatience on his breath.
His head dips as he takes a long whiff of your scent, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. You’re too shocked to move. You’ve heard stories from the other girls in the village that Neteyam is a beast, a monster when he takes someone to bed. And the lack of humanity in his gaze is proving all those rumors now, right here before you.
When you don’t answer, he grabs your chin. Pulling your face up to his.
“I asked you a question.” He says. “And I’m gonna get that answer.”
Scooting back as far as the desk behind you will allow, you manage to turn your gaze from his. Only showing your delicate throat more. He moans, cupping the back of your neck and pulling you flush to his chest.
“Please, don’t make me repeat myself, you know I don’t like that.”
“Yes.” You declare suddenly, your eyes squeezing shut as his hand finds your knee, spreading your leg open as if your body was his to manipulate in such a way.
“Then let me see.”
His hand begins to slide up in between the sensitive part of your thighs. Right now, you’re not even there. You're his toy, his play thing. And it didn’t make any sense why now all of a sudden he decides to do this to you. You were drawing blanks, your thoughts too foggy from his exploring fingers. He finds the hem of your pants and tugs, hard enough to slide you under his hips. You gasp, catching yourself with your hands on the cold hard floor.
“Neteyam!”
But he wasn’t there, but replaced with a lust hungry animal that only sees what he wants right in front of him for the taking. And lord knows Neteyam took what he wanted.
“Off, I want these off.” He says. Giving you no time to protest, no time to react to his wanting touch. You didn’t recognize the man before you. Something was off, he’s usually gentle with his words, with his hands. But this was different, it was as if he was being controlled by some sort of parasite. Like he was in an empty shell and behaving souly out of instinct.
You don’t have it in you to stop him. It was evident that you wanted this just as much as he did. You just didn’t understand the slight change in being his best friend one minute, to being under him, his dick inches from your face.
Instead you accepted your fate and you allowed him to pull you free from the restraints of your pants. Exposing your very delicate and private parts to his wanting eyes. He leans back a moment lazily pumping his shaft with his hand, almost coming back to his senses, but the second he notices your slit, and your arousal dripping on the floor beneath you - he comes from you. All morals that he may have had regarding your friendship are out the window.
Swiftly, and before you could even register. His cock is in his hands throbbing and red, and getting closer and closer to your open mouth.
“I’m gonna fuck that pretty face, and make you swallow every last ounce of me.”
You begin to protest but he cups your cheeks.
“No, no. Tell me you want it.” He says, leaning down, licking your parted lips.
You gasp, only able to look up at him.
“Tell me you want this big dick to bruise these pretty lips baby.”
The protest is right there in your chest, but you wanted it, you wanted it so bad. You wanted him to use you like a little toy. You wanted him to keep talking to you like this, like he never respected you before. Even though you know it’s the arousal talking. You couldn’t help but want more of that. You wanted it all.
“Yes…” you whisper, his thumb clearing a drop of drool that you didn’t know fell on your lips.
He nods his head in encouragement.
“Say it baby.” He demands.
The words are caught in your throat as he strokes himself before you. Licking your lips unintentionally. Swallowing the dry lump in your throat, you finally find your words.
“I want you to fuck my pretty face.”
Surely you didn’t go insane? Surely this is normal right? To want this? To want this happening to you.
He was so pretty, the veins in his cock jumped at your words. His slit wet with arousal, getting closer to your face. He straddles your chest, cupping the back of your head as he runs his precum on your lips, moisturizing his most prized entrance point. On instinct, your lips part and without hesitation he slides in. Just the tip at first.
He lets out a sharp hiss, his other hand coming up to join the other in holding your head in place. You’ve never done this before but as he goes deep, your throat begins to relax. Squeezing your legs together you grind your hips, pinching that little bundle of nerves in between your thighs. He’s lost on top of you, his eyes heavily lidded as he fucks your face like he said he was going to.
You look at him, your jaw going lax as he guides the speed of your head to how he needs it. His mouth falls open as you lock eyes with him, the sight of those plump round lips taking the breath from his lungs.
“Yes baby, look at me while I fuck this mouth. Watch me take it.”
You hollow your cheeks creating a stronger suction and he moans, his head falling back as he picks up the pace. You hold back a gag in your throat and breath out your nose to humble your stomach. You wanted more than anything to watch him lose control of the warmth of your mouth.
“Ohh fuck.”
His hips pick up the pace, his braids falling down the sides of his face as he uses you the way he wants. You moan against his length, tears forming in your eyes as he takes your throat. Getting closer and closer to that breaking point.
“You want my cum don’t you? Huh? Want me to fill your throat with my babies?”
Because of the mouthful, you only had one option. To nod your head. But he wants to hear you say it. Pulling out with a pop he gives you air. Enough time for you to respond.
“Please,” you gasp. “Cum down my throat, please.”
He growled and quickly replaced his cock, shoving it back down your throat.
“Fuck that’s gonna make me cum… fuck.”
You decide to take control. Sucking in your cheeks more, determined to get every last drop. His hips begin to stutter and his breaths become ragged, his moans fill the air as if he had no shame in how he sounded. He needed you to know how good you made him feel. You moan around him, creating vibration. And as if that’s all he needed to bust. His head falls back as he moans loudly into the air. Holding your head in place as long as ropes of this cum glide down your wanting throat.
“Ohhhhhh fuck, baby! Fuck.”
You suck every last drop down like he demanded, making sure not to leave a single dribble. He looks down at you, his body slowly coming to, his hits still pumping slightly as he comes down from his orgasm. He pulls out, watching as the drool falls from your red and down swollen lips. Suddenly, something you didn’t expect, he leans down, taking your mouth and swiping his fat tongue all over the inside of your mouth. Tasting your sweet scents together. Grabbing your chin he pinched your cheeks before licking your lips clean with his tongue.
“More.” He demands, before flipping your over into your belly.
Summary: The mission was simple: keep the prisoner alive. But Neteyam isn’t interested in survival— he’s interested in you.
Warnings: explicit smut, enemies to lovers, flirting, handjob, mating cycle/in rut, mentions of hunger strike, starving, humiliation, needles (to take blood samples), physical fights, violence (not against reader), Neteyam is a prisoner of war, na‘vi dirty talk, language barrier, alien biology, a/b/o dynamics, knots, yes he whimpers
Notes: this is short, lazy and not properly proof read, i just had this idea that I wanted to write down between my other wips and now I don’t know if I like it or not lol enjoy
You have heard of him before. The na‘vi they’ve taken hostage.
Not just any warrior from any clan, but the well trained son of the resistance leader. Jake Sully‘s son. He, who took down an entire armed outpost alone. With a fucking bow and an arrow against heavy machinery.
In the hallways, they speak of him in hushed tones, as if saying his name too loudly might summon him from the shadows of the trees. Neteyam. The eldest Sully.
The soldiers who have seen him and lived call him a demon, though not the kind they once thought all Na’vi to be. No, he is something else. Something worse. A ghost that strikes without warning, an archer whose arrows never miss, whose footsteps make no sound. And if you see the shadow of his banshee, you’re already dead.
They say he moves like the wind— there one moment, gone the next, leaving only bodies in his wake. The son of the great Toruk Makto and his sinister, gruesome wife. Raised in war, molded by it.
And now, he is the companies prisoner.
You don’t know how he managed to get himself captured, but it’s not like it matters much anyways. He’s here now and he‘s been the talk of the entire base for weeks. But there is something wrong with him. Which brings us to you.
You’ve worked with the Na’vi before. At least, that’s what your record says. You’ve studied their physiology, their biology, the way their systems work. You’ve patched up recombinant soldiers on the rare occasions they needed it, adjusted their treatments, monitored their vitals.
But this? This is different.
This is a real Na’vi. A wild one. An untamed, battle-hardened warrior who, if circumstances were different, would kill you without hesitation.
When you stepped into General Ardmore’s office this morning, she had barely looked up from her screen as she acknowledged your presence.
"General," you nodded with a tight smile.
"Doctor," she said, voice clipped, eyes scanning through reports. "He is sick. On a hunger strike since tuesday. Not drinking much either." Without mentioning his name, you already know who she’s talking about. You swallow thickly. "If he dies, it’ll be a problem."
She doesn’t say why and you don’t ask.
"I need him stabilized," she continues. "Figure out what’s wrong. Do whatever you need to, just keep him alive."
You nod, swallowing the questions that want to rise. She doesn’t like questions. You’ve learned that much.
Outside, a guard was already waiting to escort you down.
The hallways of the RDA facility feel colder than usual as you make your way toward the cell block. Armed guards stand at every turn, gripping their weapons a little too tightly, their faces set in grim determination. It’s not the usual tight security of a military base, this is fear.
They’re afraid of him.
The room they lead you into is sterile, clinical. White fluorescent lights hum softly above. It smells of antiseptic and recycled air, the way all RDA facilities do. Empty. Lifeless.
A single table and chair sit in the center of your side of the room. Nothing else. No distractions, no unnecessary details.
The partition is thick, reinforced, likely designed for containment more than observation. On the other side, the air is different. Dimmer. The lights are broken, he made sure of that on his first day here. You’ve heard the whispers. He shattered the lights above with his bare hands, tried to turn the shards into weapons, cut off a man’s hand in the process of disarming him. And then they took everything after that. Gutted the room of anything remotely useful. Now, there is nothing.
The walls are bare. The floor is smooth. No furniture, no bedding, not even a cot. Just cold steel and silence.
And in the farthest corner, where the darkness swallows him whole, he crouches. Even now, reduced to this trapped, starving and caged animal, he does not look broken. His posture is low but not slumped, his body wound tight like a coiled spring. Watching. Waiting.
Your gaze flickers to the plastic bowl on the ground. Untouched. The humiliation of it is sharp. No utensils, no dignity. Just a feeding dish, as if he were no more than a dog to be kept alive.
You swallow.
You exhale slowly, trying to regain focus on your task. You set your bag down on the cold metal table, the sound echoing too loudly in the sterile space. One by one, you take out your equipment. Your tablet, your scanner, a notepad for observations. A pointless habit, really. The RDA wants everything digital, but writing things down helps you think. Helps you process.
You press your palms against the table’s smooth surface, inhaling deeply. How the hell were you supposed to do this?
It’s not like you can just walk in there and ask him to hold out his arm for a vitals check. No, if you wanted to get close, you would need security, at least two, maybe three guards. And even then, it’ll be a risk. He is a risk.
You’re so lost in thought that when you finally turn around, your heart nearly explodes out of your chest.
He’s right there, nearly pressed up against the glass.
A sharp gasp leaves you as you stumble back, your hand flying to clutch the fabric of your blouse over your racing heart.
"Jesus Christ," you hiss sharply.
He’s close, so much closer than before. His forearm is braced against the glass, his forehead resting on it, his other hand relaxed by his side. It’s almost a casual posture, but there’s something about it. His head tilts slightly, like he’s trying to see you better past the glare of the artificial lights.
Your pulse hammers in your throat.
Surprisingly, there is no aggression in his stance, no bared teeth, no clenched fists. You’re so on edge, it seems ridiculous for you to have reacted that way, but you couldn’t help it. This whole situation was beyond terrifying.
For a long moment, neither of you move.
You stand frozen, your breath shallow, your fingers still curled into the fabric of your blouse as if that might somehow steady your racing heart. He doesn’t move either, just watches you with unsettling patience, his golden eyes sharp, studying.
The silence stretches.
You aren’t sure what you expected. Perhaps hostility, maybe a snarl or a glare, something that would confirm everything you’ve heard about him. But instead, something shifts in his expression. A slow grin spreads across his face, baring sharp canines, and then—
"Kaltxì, sevin tawtute" [Hello, pretty human].
His voice is low, rough around the edges from disuse, but there’s an unmistakable amusement in it. Like he knows something you don’t.
You blink. Your mind scrambles to process the words, but they mean nothing to you. You don’t speak na’vi. So when you don’t immediately respond, he’s quick to open his mouth again. And again, it takes you utterly by surprise.
"You don’t speak my tongue," he says, sounding equally as surprised as you feel. "I assumed most white coats do."
"White coats?" You frown, then glance down at yourself, at your outfit. The white coat you’re wearing. "Oh! Oh, no I’m not a scientist. I’m—," you pause, considering, "not supposed to be talking to you at all."
"What's the harm in talking to me?" He asks, then flicks the glass with a finger and a ping echoes off the walls. "I can't bite you."
Can't. Not won't, you note.
You ignore his words, pushing past the unease still curling in your stomach, and step closer to the glass. You came here for a reason and you needed to focus.
Up close, he looks worse than in the images you’d seen in his file. The hunger strike is taking its toll. His skin, normally a deep, rich blue, looks dull under the dim lighting. There’s a thin layer of sweat on his forehead and bruises, faded but present, blooming along his forearms and dried blood across his knuckles.
You pull out your notepad, jotting down quick observations. When you glance up again, you realize he’s watching you intently.
His ears are high, alert, fully focused on you. His tail curls slightly, the tip twitching, and there’s something almost… expectant in the way he’s standing now, his weight shifting forward, as if waiting.
You hesitate, then take another slow step forward. And the change in him is immediate.
Neteyam straightens to his full height, a fluid, effortless motion. God, this guy was tall. Easily nine, probably even ten feet tall. His three-fingered hands drop from the glass, but he doesn’t step back. His eyes flick downward, skimming over your coat, and his lips part slightly as if sounding something out.
Then, to your astonishment, he says, "You are a Doctor."
He taps a finger against the glass twice, right where your name tag sits.
Your brows lift. "You can read?"
His ears flick forward, a pleased glint flashing through his golden eyes. He licks his lips, dry, you note absently. Another symptom of dehydration.
"I can," he says simply. "Can you?"
Heat rises to your face and you shift uncomfortably, gripping your notepad a little tighter. In all honesty, it never even occurred to you that he might be able to read english, let alone speak it this fluently. The reports never mentioned it and none of the briefings prepared you for this.
"Forgive me for assuming…" you say, voice quieter than you meant it to be.
Neteyam tilts his head slightly, considering you. The grin he wore just moments ago fades into something unreadable. Then, he huffs softly through his nose, his fingers flexing at his sides.
"Hm." He makes a low sound of acknowledgment. His eyes stay locked on yours, sharp and searching, as if trying to decide what to make of you.
You clear your throat, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. Straightening, you glance down at your notes, reviewing what little information you were given before being sent here.
According to General Ardmore, Neteyam must be sick. Some kind of flu or disease like the pandorian rabies they’ve said. You look up at him, then back to your notes. Then back up. Huh. But he doesn’t seem sick. Sure, he’s in an overall bad condition, but that must be due to the circumstances.
The reports are vague, but they all say the same thing: he refuses to eat, he barely drinks. He‘s been acting overly aggressive for the past week and refuses any human contact. Several guards and scientists have both noted his erratic behavior.
He also appears feverish and perpetually on edge. There are nights when he doesn’t sleep at all, tossing and turning as if tormented by unseen pain, and days when he lies in a fitful slumber for hours, his body curled in on himself in a way that suggests both exhaustion and deep distress. It’s an unusual pattern, a disturbing cycle of wakefulness and forced rest, that defies any simple explanation.
And all of this, after over a month of captivity in which he was acting relatively normal. For a na‘vi that is.
But right now? He seems fine, you think, brows creating a deep crease on your forehead as you scan him up and down. Is he just pretending?
You wonder if this fevered state is a defense mechanism, a way for him to mask his vulnerabilities, or if it’s simply the physical manifestation of the abuse he’s endured. The puzzle is as chilling as it is complex, and the urgency to understand it grows with every labored breath he takes behind the reinforced glass.
"So," you nervously clear your throat. "Why aren’t you eating?" You manage to get the courage to ask.
His ears flick at the sound of your voice, but he doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he just looks at you, his golden eyes unreadable, like he’s weighing whether your question even deserves a response.
Seconds stretch.
Then, finally, he exhales through his nose. His expression hardens, and when he speaks, his voice sounds strained.
"Because it is not food that I crave," he murmurs.
That’s not helping. You don’t know what that means, but the look he gives you is uncanny. He’s just trying to scare you, you try to remind yourself.
You open your mouth, about to press him further, but before you can get another word out, the heavy door behind you hisses open.
"Time’s up for today, doc," a guard calls from the entrance. His voice is flat, bored, like this is nothing more than routine. Already?
You exhale, forcing yourself to step back from the glass. Neteyam doesn’t move. He just keeps watching you, his gaze tracking your every motion with quiet intensity. And even as you turn away, you could still feel his eyes on your back.
As you pass the guard, you stop just long enough to give a quiet instruction. "Please make sure to take blood samples for me first thing in the morning. I want to check them before I come see him tomorrow."
The guard nods. "Sure thing."
With one last glance toward the figure in the dimly lit cell, you step out into the hallway.
— ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ —
The next day arrives, and you brace yourself as you make your way back to the facility.
Before you see Neteyam, you stop to speak with the guard from yesterday. He’s stationed near the entrance, looking more worn than he did before, his face set in an angry scowl.
As you approach, he doesn’t waste time with pleasantries.
"That motherfucker is not cooperating in the ways we thought he would,” he says, voice low and tight with frustration. "Getting that sample when he’s in that kind of mood was a shit idea, doc. No offense." Then his expression hardens and your brows raise in a mixture of shock and surprise. "Two of my men are seriously injured, and one has permanently lost a damn finger."
You feel a sharp pang of guilt at his words. In all honesty, you hadn’t anticipated this. The thought of Neteyam, a prisoner already broken physically and mentally by his circumstances, causing such violence…
"And we didn’t even get your sample," the guard continues bitterly. Your shoulders slumped. "He fought us every step of the way. I don’t know how much longer we can keep him under control like this."
A sense of dread curls in your stomach. "Did you try sedating him?" you ask, almost hesitantly, unsure of the answer you’ll get.
The guard’s jaw tightens, and he lets out a frustrated exhale, as if the question itself irritates him. "We did," he snaps, then adds more grimly, "but it’s not working. He fights the medication too much. The lab coats said if we keep doubling the dosage, we might risk his health permanently. We’ve already given him enough to knock out a horse! This guy is stubborn, I’ll have to give him that."
You blink, trying to process the information. You had assumed the sedation would be a simple solution, but now it’s clear it’s not. Neteyam isn’t just fighting back physically, he’s resisting in a way that seems impossible. For a human.
You glance down, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "That’s not," you shake your head. "That’s not possible."
"Look, doc, here’s the deal. You know what this freak’s been doing for the last goddamn month? He’s been making a damn mockery of us. We try to get samples, he won’t have it. We try to sedate him, he either spits it out or rips out the syringe. You think he’s just playing along?" He scoffs, shaking his head. "This guy’s a goddamn nightmare. I don’t care who his daddy is, but his son is a pain in my ass."
The guard sighs, rubbing his temples. "But… here’s the kicker." He leans in slightly, eyes narrowing. "He’s made a condition. Can you believe that? Never even heard him speak before you showed up, so there’s that."
You stare at him, confused. "A condition?"
The guard gives a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah, you heard me right. He said he won’t give us shit— unless you come in and get it yourself. So that’s the situation now."
You feel a wave of unease sweep over you and a cold prickle runs down your spine.
"He what?" You say a little to loud, then, quieter, "Why?"
The guard huffs and shrugs, "hell if I know."
Your hands feel clammy, your pulse hammering uncomfortably in your ears. This doesn’t make sense. Out of all the things Neteyam could’ve demand, like better food, freedom, actual negotiation… this is what he asks for?
The thought of stepping into that room, alone, with him makes your stomach churn. He’s unpredictable, dangerous, but the guard informs you that the General has approved of his condition.
You swallow hard. Of course, she would approve this. If Neteyam is as valuable as they claim, they’ll bend over backward to keep him alive, no matter what it takes. And now, you are part of that equation.
With a sharp buzz, the locks disengage and the door slides open. The Guard nods as you enter, then closes and locks the door behind you.
On the other side of the glass, Neteyam doesn’t move right away. He stays crouched, both forearm resting over his knees. His golden eyes gleam in the darkness, locked onto you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.
You force yourself to stand tall, clutching your bag like a lifeline. A long moment of silence stretches between you, but then, slowly, he unfolds himself from the crouch, rising to his full height.
And he looks bad. Horrible, even. So much worse than yesterday that the sight shocks you. He appeared fine yesterday, so what happened since the last time you saw him?
Neteyam sways slightly as he straightens, and for a fleeting second, you think he might stumble. But he catches himself with a hand against the glass wall, sharp chin tilting upward, his expression one of stubborn defiance. His breathing is heavier than before, his chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate motions, as if he’s trying to keep himself steady.
You swallow against the dryness in your throat.
"You need us to check on you," you say carefully, your voice softer now, coaxing rather than commanding. "You’re sick and your condition is getting worse by the hour."
His pupils are so blown that the gold of his irises is barely visible, swallowed by darkness. Fever, dehydration, exhaustion, whatever this is, it’s consuming him, and fast.
"I need—" You hesitate, then correct yourself. "I want to help you," you tell him. "But you have to let me."
For a moment, he says nothing. Just stands there, eyes locked onto yours, unblinking.
"I am not sick." He says stubbornly.
You shake your head, irritation flickering beneath your concern before you step closer to the glass. Setting your bag down to the ground, you approach the keypad on the wall. Your finger hovers over the numbers.
"Neteyam. If I come in," you swallow, "will you hurt me?"
Immediately, "no."
"Will you try and use me to escape?"
Again, "no."
"Then why me?"
This time there comes no immediate response. Neteyam‘s expression is unreadable, his fever-bright eyes locked onto yours.
"You ask many questions, little doctor," he murmurs after a beat, voice low and rough.
You exhale sharply, then shake your head as you enter the code to the door separating you from him. "Because it doesn’t make sense," you say, frustration creeping in. "You don’t make sense."
The door seals shut behind you with a weighty finality, cutting you off from the sterile white light of the observation room. Inside the cell, the air is different. Thicker, warmer, oppressive in a way that settles uncomfortably against your skin. It smells faintly of sweat and metal, a sharp contrast to the clinical sterility of the rest of the base.
Neteyam stands just a few feet next to you, his hand still steadying him against the glass, his golden eyes tracking your every movement. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just watches. You try not to let it rattle you as you kneel down and begin unpacking your supplies.
"Give me your arm," you say, keeping your voice neutral and professional as you step closer. "Just so you know, if you still decide to try anything, there are guards waiting for me right outside."
At first, he doesn’t react. Then, slowly, he extends it toward you, the movement precise, controlled. His skin is slick with sweat, an unnatural heat radiating off of him in waves. As you swipe an alcohol pad over the inside of his forearm, he flinches when you press your fingers down on his upper arm to stop the blood flow. His breathing shifts, deepens.
Your eyes flicker up to his face. "Did that hurt?"
He shakes his head once, curt. "No."
A lie, perhaps. But you don’t push. Instead, you press forward, inserting the needle carefully, watching as dark crimson fills the vial. He doesn’t react to the puncture, not even a flicker of discomfort. But when you remove the needle and your fingers brush against his burning skin, his breath hitches, a tremor running through him so faint you almost miss it.
Your brow furrows. Something isn’t right.
You set the vial aside and scan his body with a practiced eye, looking for any signs of injury. If he fought back this morning, it’s possible he took a blow, maybe even fractured something. "I need to check you for wounds," you murmur, reaching for his arm again. "You might’ve—"
The second your fingertips press against his skin, his whole body shudders. This time, you ignore it. You let your fingers wander, stretching to reach over his bicep, his shoulder. And then down on his collarbone. Carefully, you prod at his bones, the strong fiber of muscle of his chest, his abs. By the time you’ve checked all of his ribs, his chest heaves.
His breath comes slower now, deeper, as if each inhale takes effort. Up close, you can see the fine tremors in his muscles, the tension coiled beneath his skin like a bowstring pulled too tight. If you thought his pupils were blown wide before, they’re nearly completely black by now, swallowing almost all the gold in his irises, leaving behind only a thin ring of color that’s barely visible.
And god, he’s burning up. Too hot, far beyond a normal fever. The heat reminds you of a furnace, stifling, suffocating. You don’t dare acknowledge it, but his head hangs low. Low enough, his forehead almost rests against your shoulder. He‘s exhausted, tired from whatever illness is plaguing him.
He‘s close enough now, you could only pretend to not hear him groaning whenever your fingertips prodded his flesh. And they sounded breathier the further down your hands wandered.
They move carefully over the planes of his body, fingertips pressing against fevered skin, mapping the unyielding muscle beneath. You try to focus on the task, searching for anything unusual, something that would explain the state he’s in, but it’s difficult.
Neteyam is scorching beneath your touch, the heat of him bleeding into your palms, making it hard to ignore the way his skin twitches beneath your fingers. And the sounds, soft, shuddering exhales that catch in his throat whenever you press a little too firmly. He’s feeling every touch, too much of it, like his nerves are raw and burning.
You swallow against the tightness in your own throat and keep going, moving downward. Over the ridges of his ribs, across the taut plane of his stomach, feeling for swelling, a break, a tear.
But there’s nothing.
No wounds, no fractures, no sign of external trauma. Just heat and tension and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your hands.
You tell yourself not to look. To keep your eyes level, professional. But then your gaze flickers downward— just for a second, just to check.
But what you see makes your breath catch in your throat, makes heat creep up the back of your neck.
Just below where his stomach tenses and his prominent V-line marks the way for your eyes to travel down, down, down, before you see it. He’s… Oh god. He’s hard!
Oh.
Your eyes widen in shock.
"You’re—" He‘s in rut!
The realization hits you like a lightning strike and you pull your hand away from his lower abdomen just as quick. But Neteyam is quicker. His three fingered hand wraps around your wrist and keeps you hovering over his skin.
"Figured it out, hm?" He exhales, long and slow, the corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing grin.
You feel embarrassingly dumb for not coming to this conclusion earlier. Or at least, before you started torturing him with your hands all over his body. Of course he’s burning up like this, you think as you mentally slap a hand to your forehead. You’re the only fertile female around and while you doubt you were anywhere near compatible to a Na’vi, their senses were strong enough to pick up even the slightest scents. Even those of a human ripe enough to mate. And the dampness in your underwear from feeling him up and down must’ve been his final straw, you internally groan.
With your eyes wide and your gaze still fixed on it, on him, as you curse yourself for acting so foolish, you don’t even notice how Neteyam shifts his other hand to cup his length. He groans when he squeezes himself over his loincloth, then leans in to sniff at your throat. A gasp escapes you, but you can’t step away. You’re trapped between him and the glass, heart beating like a drum inside your chest.
"Go one, little tawtute, [human]" Neteyam rasps, his voice rougher than before, almost strained. "You can keep touching."
He’s still holding your wrist, but not that tight. It seems more careful, as if he wanted you to want it but couldn’t risk letting you go and loose the warmth of your touch. When you hesitate for a minute too long, he simply guides you to where your eyes are already fixed on. He pushes the cords of his loincloth down until his cock springs free, then wraps your dainty little fingers around the shaft.
"You wanted to help," he whispers. "Then help me out."
You exhale shakily, bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you let him. God, you just let him!
You can’t believe yourself.
The part of your brain still rooted in rationality, your duty, the strict protocols etched into every step of your career, scream at you to step back. To draw the line. But your body doesn’t listen. It stays. You stay.
You tell yourself it’s compassion. Just your concern. Just your professionalism being tested in the worst way imaginable. That his fever is spiking, that he’s just disoriented. That this is just some strange byproduct of his rut, something all na‘vi of age experience every other month, you know that. Hell, even the recombinants are required to take a week off and lock themselves into their quarters whenever it happens.
That’s why your hand stays against his burning skin. Because you’re his doctor. Because you want to ease the pressure in his chest, calm the tension running like wire beneath his skin. That’s all. That has to be all.
Your face is burning, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a question you’re too afraid to ask.
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move, either. He just watches your hands, eyes half-lidded but sharp beneath the weight of heat and exhaustion.
You don’t know what he’s thinking. You’re not even sure what you’re thinking anymore. But you know one thing: if this is a line, you’re toeing it and Neteyam seems about ready to push you right over it.
Then his hand squeezes yours, before he pulls back entirely, leaving you to the task. You blink.
He‘s… huge. So alien looking it makes you shiver. He’s smooth and warm, his cock extruding from a slit on his lower abdomen. His tip looks humanoid, and the shape as well. But it also doesn’t.
He feels so heavy in your hand, you instinctively reach out to take him in both. You don’t even mean to, it was just a reflex, but he’s audibly pleased by this. Even more so, when you squeeze him slightly.
"Hmm, good girl. Keep doing that."
When Neteyam presses himself closer against you, you swallow thickly. However, even with his giant frame looming over you and basically caging you in, you don’t feel threatened. Strangely enough, you just feel desired.
Unable to peel your eyes off of him and his length in your hand, you give him the tiniest stroke. The reaction is instantaneous.
Neteyams mouth parts as he pants, hot and wet, against your throat. You feel— jesus, you feel his cock pulse in your palms. When you do it again, twice, stroking with an upward curve and slight pressure on his soft tip, the mighty warrior whimpers.
"Are you okay?" You whisper, afraid you might’ve hurt him since you don’t know how na‘vi react to physical touch in certain places or if their pleasure spots are similar to humans. But Neteyam wantonly pushes into your hand, so that sort of answers that.
You then try to get a decent grip so you can continue to stroke. The size difference makes this a funny angle and he’s not giving your arms enough room to move. When you finally get it right, though, Neteyam makes more noises, little whimpering sounds and deep moans that leave you feeling feverish, too.
By the kind of sounds your touch elicits out of him your hands must feel heavenly. He must’ve been so pent up and frustrated, you think. So needy and driven by these animalistic urges, so much lust with no where to relieve himself, you almost feel pity for him.
"B-Be quiet," you shush him as you glance over your shoulder to the door. There are guards right outside that you haven’t forgotten about and the thought of getting caught with both of your hands around the prisoners cock makes your stomach do jumping jacks.
"Tì'efu Tsìltsan [Feels good]," he whispers, his breath a little puff against your neck. "Eywa srung oe… i want to burry myself in you so bad, tawtute [human]."
It's weird to be able to feel Neteyams reactions, how he gets tenser as you touch him, how his breathing gets uneven. You chew the inside of your cheek, trying not to pay too much attention to the way you’re getting all tingly between your thighs. That's not what this is about. You’re not messing around together. You’re just... helping him out, is all.
"Pretty little doctor, you like this? I can… smell your arousal." Neteyam says lowly. Goosebumps raise all over your skin when his tongue glides over your pulse point. "So sweet. Ftxìlor [Delicious]."
That such dirty thoughts exist behind that inscrutable mask of a warrior still kind of shocks you. Neteyam is back to nosing along your neck, under your ear before you can even find it in yourself to tell him that’s not true. But you could hear him breathing in deep, and while it was good that his breaths were evening out a little as a result, it still made your own arousal deepen. Fuck, you needed to control yourself.
"You’re in rut," you mumble, more to yourself than to him as your hand glides over his shaft. "You’re not yourself. I‘m only helping."
"Oh, you are helping me." Neteyam hissed in pleasure. You had this way of twisting just a bit at the head, like turning a doorknob, that made him wild. "Do you treat all prisoners like that or am I just special, hm?" He chuckles between breathy moans.
With both hands twisting in opposite directions, your blush deepened even more. Then you stroked all the way down his length and back up. Coating the inside of your palms with pre-cum that dribbled down his slit, you stroked down to his base, getting him all wet and slippery. The groan that vibrated through his chest at that made your knees goes momentarily weak.
The faster you moved, the more some of his less human characteristics would take hold of him. Like his tail that whipped and twisted behind him, his lips pulling back and canine flashing in the dim light as if he was holding himself back from ramming them underneath your flesh and claiming ownership on you.
Neteyams hands were balled into fists on either side of your head as he held himself up against the glass. His knuckles white from how hard he was holding himself together not to touch you.
"Zun oen… [If i could]," he grit out between clenched teeth, "oel mìn nga io sì nga skien fìtseng. [I would turn you over and fuck you right here.] Oe would kä'ärìp fta nefma your 'ekxin tsongropx ulte teya si nga fa rina', tawtute. [I would force my knot into your tight hole and fill you with my seed, human.]"
Neteyam says all these words under his breath, low and guttural, in that fluid, lilting Na’vi tongue, and though the words mean nothing to you, the tone coils tight around your spine. It sounds like a plea. Or a warning. Maybe both.
You’re not sure which would be worse.
You might not understand the words he speaks, but your body understands the energy behind them. It’s like he’s fighting himself, like there’s something building inside him that he’s desperate to hold back— for your sake, or for his, you can’t be sure.
But you feel it.
God help you, you can feel it.
There’s a thick tissue of flesh that swells on the base of his cock and every time your fingers brush it, Neteyam makes a sound of pleasure. That must be his knot. It ensures successful breeding when a male and female Na’vi mate, locks them together for a period of time.
You use one of your hands to stroke him in an upward curve once more, while the other gentle massages the knot. Carefully you test for the right amount of pressure, watching out for any negative reaction as you feel it grow in your palm. The skin there is taut and feels hot to the touch, and you swallow thickly as the thought crosses your mind that this will eventually go inside his desired mate one day. A shiver runs through you when you can’t stop yourself from imagining it going inside you.
"Tsu‘sì," Neteyam breathes, so quietly you almost don’t hear him over the thundering of your own blood.
"H-Huh?" You stutter, your blush intensifying as you glance up and meet his half lidded and lust filled eyes.
"Close," he rasps, "I‘m— fuck, I’m so close."
His lips are back on your throat, not really kissing, just licking and sucking as if giving his mouth something to do or he‘ll loose himself in something else entirely. His tongue tickles and his salvia is hot and wet against your skin, but you will yourself to focus. Your grip around his cock tightens and your hand moves faster.
Soon, your strokes are becoming irregular and jerky. Neteyam’s shamelessly thrusting into your hands and when he shudders from head to toe, presses his slick forehead into your hair and swears in his native tongue, he finally comes over your hands in intense waves that makes you flinch and gasp. The ropes of cum that you manage to catch in your palm are thick and sticky and you watch as his cock throbs with his own heartbeat as more and more of it spurts into your hands.
Moments later and with a final, deep exhale, it stops then.
The whole room is spinning around you as reality settles in. You feel hot under your skin and damp between your thighs. Fuck. Fuck! You shouldn’t have—
But then, just as you’re about to wriggle free, before the weight of what you’ve just done crashes in full, Neteyam leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear.
"Thanks for curing me, sevin [pretty]," he murmurs, low and dangerous, followed by a soft, knowing chuckle that sends your heart racing once more.
"A-As your doctor—" you start, voice trembling. Neteyam who seems rather unfazed by what just happened, ties the cord of his loincloth back into place before he tips your chin up with his finger. There’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he grins at you. You almost miss the way his ears twitch as heavy footfall approaches the door.
"As my doctor," he says, voice smooth and steady, "you should probably look like you are doing your job. Look busy." The last words come out as a whispered command and you blink a few times to process them.
Your brows knit, confused, about to ask what the hell he means by that, when the metallic hiss of the security door behind you makes your blood run cold.
Before you can even react, he steps back, the heat of his body gone like a sudden gust of wind. His posture shifts instantly, expression wiped clean save for the sharp curve of a smirk still pulling at the corner of his mouth.
The door slams open.
Two, three guards flood into the room, all tense shoulders and scowls on their faces. They’re accompanied by two of the recombinant soldiers. You flinch instinctively, heart hammering, and hastily clasp your hands behind your back, trying to hide the trembling in your fingers and the cum still staining the inside of your palms. You internally cringe when you feel it drip to the floor behind your back and you pray that nobody will take notice of it.
When the recombinants step into the cell, they eye you warily, their noses twitching and for a moment, you hold your breath. But then they just walk past you.
"Sully. Hands up, you know the drill," one of them barks.
Neteyam lifts his arms with practiced ease, wrists exposed in surrender you didn’t expect from him. You’re not used to seeing him yield, if this even is that.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t resist. Not even a twitch. Just lets them slap the cuffs around his wrists, that grin never fading. They say something to you about the General wanting to speak with him personally, but your mind’s too clouded to process the details. It’s as if you’re acting on autopilot, simply nodding to whatever’s being said to you.
Then comes the second recombinant, slower, more cautious. He approaches with something in his hand that you recognize as a muzzle.
Neteyam’s smile falters just slightly when he sees it, not out of fear, but disdain. Still, he doesn’t fight when they wrap it around the lower half of his face and fasten it tightly behind his head. It’s not to silence him. You know that. It’s to stop him from biting.
You just watch, mute and stunned, as they lead him past you. Luckily, none of them pays you any attention now. They’re too focused on securing him like handlers with a dangerous animal.
Just before he crosses the threshold, Neteyam turns his head, golden eyes catching yours. And then he winks. He fucking winks at you. You don’t move. Can’t. Your limbs are rooted to the floor like they’ve forgotten how to function.
I know, I know. It’s been quite some time with no word. I know the anticipation with the release of Sugar Daddy part 4 is killing you all. I wanna say sorry to my followers for being so inactive. BUT ☝🏼I’ve come back with good news. I will be writing again.
