[vaniellea]

You want to prove to Jake that you’re worthy of Neteyams love

“again.”

your spear hits the ground before it even gets halfway to the target.

you don’t even try to hide the sigh this time, shoulders slumping as you trudge forward to pick it up, fingers tightening around the shaft like maybe if you hold it harder, it’ll finally listen to you.

it doesn’t.

it never does.

“hey,” neteyam’s voice is softer than the frustration buzzing in your chest, and it makes something in you ease despite yourself. “don’t start that.”

“i’m not starting anything,” you mumble, even though you are…just not out loud.

he steps up behind you anyway, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him at your back, his hand gently covering yours where it grips the spear.

“you’re holding it too tight again,” he murmurs.

of course you are.

you always are.

“if i don’t, it slips,” you argue weakly.

“it slips because you’re fighting it,” he corrects, not mean, not sharp, just patient. always patient with you. “relax your wrist.”

you try.

you really do.

his fingers adjust yours, careful, guiding instead of forcing, and for a second you let yourself lean back into him just a little. just enough to feel steady.

“there,” he says quietly. “now throw.”

you exhale.

and throw.

the spear flies—

—and misses.

again.

not as bad this time. closer. but still not enough.

your chest tightens anyway, a familiar, awful heat creeping up your neck. embarrassment. frustration. something heavier that you don’t really have a name for.

neteyam doesn’t say anything at first.

he just… rests his chin briefly against your shoulder.

“better,” he hums.

you let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “you’re lying.”

“i’m not.”

“neteyam—”

he turns you gently by your arm before you can spiral too far, forcing you to look at him. 

“you’re getting better,” he says, firmer now. “you just don’t see it.”

your lips press together.

it’s easy for him to say.

he’s good at everything.

everyone knows it.

golden boy. perfect aim. perfect form. perfect son.

and you—

you’re just…

you.

“i slow you down,” you blurt before you can stop yourself.

his expression changes instantly.

not angry.

not annoyed.

just… there’s not a word for it.. it’s just Neteyams typical look when you say something you shouldn’t have.

“don’t say that.”

“it’s true,” you push, quieter now, eyes dropping. “everyone else— they don’t need help like i do. you’re always—”

“i want to help you.”

that makes you pause.

you glance back up, caught off guard by how serious he looks now.

“that’s not the same thing.”

his hand comes up, thumb brushing lightly under your eye before you even realize you’re on the verge of tearing up.

“it is to me.”

you don’t know what to say to that.

so you don’t.

you just stand there, caught between wanting to believe him and every doubt you’ve ever had about yourself.

and neteyam…

neteyam just smiles, softer this time, nudging your spear back into your hands.

“again,” he says.

—

jake notices before either of you are ready for him to.

it’s not anything obvious.

not a confession. not a mistake big enough to call out.

it’s the small things.

the way neteyam’s attention drifts when you’re nearby. the way you hover just a little closer to him than you do to others. the quiet, shared looks that last half a second too long.

jake sees it.

and he doesn’t like it.

“son…”

neteyam pauses mid step at the entrance of the marui, his father’s voice enough to make his shoulders straighten automatically.

jake doesn’t look angry.

that almost makes it worse.

“you’ll be twenty three soon,” he starts, measured. thoughtful. “which means your training will change. people will start to look at you differently.”

neteyam nods once. “i know.”

jake studies him for a moment longer before continuing.

“they will also look at who stands beside you.”

there it is.

neteyam’s jaw tightens slightly. “father—”

“if they see your mate as someone who is not…” jake hesitates, choosing his words carefully but not carefully enough. “not capable, they will question you.”

that does it.

“i don’t want to hear this,” neteyam cuts in, sharper than he means to but he doesn’t take it back.

jake’s gaze hardens.

“you need to.”

“no,” neteyam shakes his head, stepping forward now. “i don’t…not about her.”

“this is not just about feelings—”

“it is to me.”

the words land heavier than anything else he could’ve said.

jake exhales slowly, already losing patience. “there are other girls, son, strong ones. skilled. daughters of—”

“i don’t care.”

silence.

thick. tense. suffocating.

neteyam doesn’t back down.

“she makes me happy,” he says, quieter now but somehow more solid. “when i felt like i couldn’t breathe under all of this—” he gestures vaguely, meaning everything—expectations, pressure, legacy—“dad , she really makes me happy. .”

jake doesn’t respond right away.

but the look on his face says enough.

he doesn’t agree.

—

you notice.

of course you do.

it’s in the way jake’s eyes linger on you now. no longer neutral, no longer warm. not cruel, but… assessing. critical.

it’s in the way neteyam stands a little straighter around him. a little more guarded. like he’s bracing for something.

like he’s already fighting a battle you didn’t even know started.

and suddenly…

everything clicks.

your grip tightens around the basket in your hands.

oh.

—

that night, you don’t cry.

you don’t run to neteyam.

you don’t pretend you didn’t notice.

instead, you sit there in the quiet, staring down at your hands, at the small scars, the clumsy fingers, the proof of every time you weren’t good enough.

and for the first time, it doesn’t just make you feel small.

it makes you determined.

“i’ll fix it,” you whisper to yourself.

not because jake said so.

not even because you doubt neteyam.

but because you want to stand next to him without feeling like you have to apologize for it.

not because jake said so.

not even because you doubt neteyam.

but because you want to stand next to him without feeling like you have to apologize for it.

—

it starts the next morning.

earlier than usual—earlier than you’ve ever willingly woken up for anything—but you don’t let yourself think too hard about it. if you do, you might talk yourself out of it, and you’re tired of doing that.

the village is still quiet when you step out, the air cool against your skin, the sky barely touched with light. for a moment, you just stand there, adjusting to it, to the stillness, to the absence of anyone watching.

good.

you don’t want anyone to see this part.

not yet.

your fingers tighten around your bow as you make your way toward the training grounds, steps slower than you’d like but steadier than before. 

you nock an arrow.

pull.

your shoulders tense—of course they do—but you catch it this time, forcing yourself to breathe through it instead of fighting it.

release.

it misses.

you exhale sharply through your nose, jaw tightening but you don’t stop.

again.

and again.

and again.

by the time the sun starts to rise, your arms ache, your fingers sting, and your frustration sits heavy in your chest but there are more arrows in the target than there used to be.

not perfect.

never perfect.

but closer.

“you’re going to wear yourself out before breakfast.”

you don’t turn right away.

you know that voice.

“then i’ll just have to get stronger,” you mutter, lowering your bow as you finally glance over your shoulder.

neteyam is leaning casually against one of the posts, arms crossed, watching you in that quiet way of his that always feels like he’s seeing more than you’re showing.

“…you didn’t wake me,” he adds.

there’s no accusation in it.

just something softer.

you shrug lightly, looking back at the target. “you need sleep.”

“so do you.”

“i’m fine.”

he hums like he doesn’t believe you but he doesn’t push it. instead, he pushes off the post and walks toward you, slow, unhurried, like he’s giving you time to decide if you want him there.

you do.

you always do.

“show me,” he says quietly, nodding toward your bow.

you hesitate for half a second.

then you lift it again.

this time, when you pull the string back, he steps in closer but he still doesn’t touch you. you can feel him there, though. 

watching.

it makes your heartbeat pick up.

you release.

the arrow flies

and lands.

closer.

not center, but close enough that something in your chest loosens.

“…better,” he murmurs.

you glance at him. “just better?”

a small smile tugs at his mouth. “do you want me to lie?”

you huff softly, looking awaybut you’re smiling too.

“i’m trying,” you say after a second, quieter now. “i really am.”

his expression shifts at that, softening in a way that makes your chest ache a little.

“i know,” he says.

you don’t realize how close he’s gotten until his hand finally does brush against yours

you don’t pull away.

so his fingers slide more fully into place, adjusting your grip just slightly.

“relax here,” he murmurs, guiding your wrist. “you’re still holding too much tension.”

you let out a quiet breath, trying to follow his lead.

it’s easier with him.

it always has been.

“there,” he says softly.

you tilt your head back just slightly to look at him, and he’s already looking at you. closer than you expected, eyes flicking between yours and your lips for just a second too long.

your breath catches.

“…neteyam—”

he closes the distance before you can finish.

it’s not rushed.

it never is with him.

his hand slides from your wrist to your jaw, thumb brushing lightly along your cheek as his lips press against yours, warm and familiar in a way that makes your shoulders finally drop, tension melting out of you without you even realizing it.

your fingers curl into the front of his chest, grounding yourself there as you lean into him, just a little.

just enough.

he hums softly against your lips, like he feels it too.

like he always does.

“you’re doing good,” he murmurs when he pulls back, his forehead resting lightly against yours.

you let out a small, breathless laugh. “you say that even when i’m not.”

“no,” he says, quieter now. “i say it when you don’t see it.”

your smile falters, just a little.

because that’s the part that’s hardest.

but before you can respond, 

“neteyam.”

you both freeze.

this time, you pull back first.

neteyam doesn’t let you go.

his hand stays at your waist, firm, like he’s not even considering it.

jake stands a few feet away, his expression unreadable but his eyes are sharp, taking in everything. your closeness. the way neteyam’s hand hasn’t moved. the way you haven’t stepped away.

“…you’re up early,” jake says.

“so is she,” neteyam replies evenly.

jake’s gaze shifts to you.

you feel it.

but you don’t drop your eyes this time.

not immediately.

“…i see that,” he says.

there’s a pause.

then he steps closer, not enough to crowd you, but enough that it feels intentional.

“show me,” he says.

you blink. “what?”

“what you’ve been working on.”

your grip tightens slightly on the bow.

for a second, doubt flares up suddenly.

you could say no.

you could laugh it off.

you could wait until you’re better.

but then, what would be the point?

you nod once.

lift the bow.

pull.

your arms shake slightly, but you steady your breathing the way neteyam showed you—slow, controlled, focused.

release.

the arrow flies

and lands.

not perfect.

but close.

close enough.

silence stretches for a second.

two.

three.

“…again,” jake says.

so you do.

and again.

and again.

until your arms burn and your fingers feel numb and your frustration threatens to creep back in—but you don’t let it.

you don’t stop.

not until jake finally exhales, nodding once.

“better.”

just one word.

but this time, you feel it.

you really feel it.

when you lower the bow, your chest is rising and falling a little too fast, your hands still trembling but there’s something else there too.

something steadier.

jake looks at you for a long moment, then at neteyam, at the way he’s still standing close, still watching you like nothing else matters.

“…you’re serious about this,” jake says, more statement than question.

neteyam doesn’t hesitate. “i am.”

jake’s gaze lingers on him, searching, weighing. Then he starts walking off. 

The days that follow blur into a moment you can’t really pinpoint. 

Jake’s plan isn’t subtle. Not to Neteyam, anyway.

First it’s Nari, a hunter’s daughter with a flawless aim and the easy laugh, “accidentally” finding reasons to train near the two of you. 

Then it’s Seyka, broad shouldered and small waist, bringing fresh kill to the Sully marui and lingering when Neteyam is there. They smile at him. They brush against him. They offer to spar, to hunt, to show him new routes through the forest.

Neteyam is polite. Always polite. But his hand finds the small of your back every single time, pulling you closer. His tail brushes around your ankle under the table. His eyes never linger on them longer than a second.

You notice. He notices you noticing.

One evening after Seyka leaves yet another woven gift at the entrance, Neteyam tugs you away from the village entirely. His fingers lace tight through yours as he leads you to a secluded waterfall pool, the one only he seems to know about.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just pulls you into the water with him, cool against heated skin, and kisses you like he’s been starving for it all day. Deeper than usual. Hungrier. His tongue slides against yours, while his hands roam down your sides, over the curve of your hips, then up again to cup your breasts through the thin beads and fabric, thumbs brushing your nipples until they pebble.

You gasp into his mouth. He swallows it.

“ Neteyam… what are y-“

When he finally pulls back, breathing hard, forehead pressed to yours, his voice is low but rough.

“I know what he’s doing,” he murmurs. “Sending them. Thinking I’ll change my mind.” His thumb traces your bottom lip. “I won’t. I never will.”

Your heart stutters. “Neteyam…”

“I want you,” he says, simple and fierce. “Only you. And I’m tired of waiting for him to see it.”

His hand slides lower under the water, palm pressing between your thighs, cupping you through the thin loincloth. 

Not pushing inside, just yet, just rubbing, right against the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of your slit until your hips jerk and a soft whimper escapes you.

He watches your face the whole time, eyes dark.

“ Neteyam.. not right now.. I have to watch tuk for your mom…” 

“Okay,” he promises as he takes his hand from between your legs, kissing the corner of your mouth. 

–

The touches grow bolder after that.

During a private picnic on a high branch, his fingers are beneath your loincloth while you’re straddling his lap, circling your clit with slick, teasing strokes until you’re shaking and biting his shoulder to stay quiet. 

On a night hunt he presses you against a tree trunk, kissing you until your knees buckle, grinding his hard cock against your belly through both your cloths while whispering how perfect you feel.

Every time he stops just before you can tip over the edge. Every time he leaves you aching and wet and wanting.

Until the night he doesn’t stop.

He takes you to the same hidden pool, moonlight silver on the water. This time there’s a woven mat and soft blankets he brought ahead. This time his hands tremble slightly as he helps you out of your top, eyes reverent as your breasts spill free.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes, leaning down to take one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently until your back arches and your fingers thread through his braids.

He lays you down. Kisses every inch of you, down your stomach, along your thighs, then between them, tongue slow and worshipful on your clit until you come the first time with a broken cry, thighs clamped around his head.

Only then does he rise over you, loincloth discarded, thick cock heavy and flushed against his belly. The head already glistening.

His queue—long, neural tendrils glowing softly—sways behind him. Yours curls forward instinctively.

Neteyam looks down at you, eyes burning.

“I want to mate with you,” he says, voice rough with need. “I want tsaheylu. I want to live with you. Wake up with you. Have a family with you. I don’t care what my father says. I choose you. Now. Forever.”

Your throat tightens with emotion even as heat pulses low in your belly.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, Neteyam. I choose you too.”

He leans down. The moment your queues connect, braiding together with a soft, electric snap, the world explodes into color and feeling. You feel him—his love, his want, his steady unwavering certainty—and it steals your breath.

Then he’s pushing inside you.

Slow. So slow.

The stretch burns. He’s thick, and you’re tight, and the first few inches make you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Shh, yawne,” he murmurs, kissing your temple, your cheeks, your lips. “Breathe. I’ve got you. Just relax for me.”

He keeps rocking forward in tiny increments, letting your body open for him, whispering praise the whole time about how warm you are, how perfect you feel around him, how much he loves you. When he’s finally seated to the hilt, both of you are shaking.

He stays there, buried deep, forehead against yours, letting you adjust while the bond floods you with his pleasure.

Then he starts to move.

Long, slow thrusts at first, careful. The pain fades into a deep, aching fullness that makes your toes curl. Your breasts bounce gently with every push, nipples tight, and Neteyam can’t stop looking at you pretty body witb his eyes dark, and his lips parted.

“Mh…, look at you,” he groans, picking up pace. The wet sound of him sliding in and out fills the air. Your tits jump more noticeably now, soft and full, and he leans down to catch one nipple in his mouth again, sucking in time with his thrusts.

You moan louder, legs wrapping around his waist.

The pleasure builds fast, his cock dragging against a perfect spot inside you, the bond letting you feel his own rising ecstasy, the way your tight heat is driving him insane.

You come first, clenching hard around him with a cry, vision whiting out. He follows right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a guttural groan, hips jerking as pulse after pulse of hot seed fills you.

For a long moment you just cling to each other, panting, connected in every way possible.

Then Neteyam laughs—soft, breathless, delighted—as he nuzzles your neck.

“We’re going to have a kid,” he murmurs against your skin, still buried inside you. “I can already see it. Our family.”

You let out a shaky laugh, still floating. “What if… what if I don’t get pregnant this time?”

He lifts his head, eyes sparkling with love and mischief and fresh hunger. His hips roll slowly, cock still hard and twitching inside your sensitive walls.

“Then we’ll just do this again,” he whispers, starting to thrust. “And again. As many times as it takes.”

Your head falls back on a moan as he settles into a steady rhythm once more, the bond singing between you, his hands sliding up to cup your bouncing breasts while he fucks you slow and sweet under the moonlight.

Hi hope you enjoyed!

Based off this request!

@ami-s-k, @mow6li, @scenic236, @celestesolace, @bibbidibobbidibooos , @babymilne, @raleiya, @mershyjershy, @thatoctobergirl28, @aruscape , @veiledpies, @melonsharkzzzz , @fangirlsmatter-blog , @florescencls , @moize , @khiarsa , @amaramaesworld , @kiatjuddae , @bakugouswaif, @cecebar, @eliankm, @violet0182, @kittyslayercute, @pizzaflavouredoeros, @jkdhdjfjdhdd, @kklovescookies , @angelteardropss , @dumplingsyum

[broughtchaburger]

[smuttyjane]

im kneeling daddy 🤗

[jakesullyblr]

you're welcome

[tigerpetals]

❀࿔ you teach lo’ak how to eat you out

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔ aged up! lo’ak x fem! na’vi! reader

summary: title is self explanatory 😬 he’s rlly bad at it at first but learns quickly and really enjoys it himself (maybe a lil tew much 👅)

warnings: lower caps, smut, kissing, awkward first times, oral (f receiving obvi!), fingering, slight ground humping, hands free orgasm

wc: 2.9k

author’s note: idk yall i had this idea… but i flowkirk wanna make this a series 😈 like first times doing things w the avatar characters? yk? idk lmk what yall think

you shift awkwardly next to lo’ak, your knees nearly brushing together as the tension in the air thickens between the two of you.

not too long ago, you gave lo’ak his first handjob, and ever since then he’s been insistent on returning the favor.

you had taken multiple steps in your relationship, like kissing each other with more confidence, heated touches in private, but not much else.

when you brought up the idea of pleasuring him, he was hesitant at first but ultimately loved it. and you loved it too.

he wanted to give you the same pleasure, and its not that you didn’t want him to, you were just nervous. what if he didn’t like what he saw? what if you embarrassed yourself?

however, you recalled how much you enjoyed pleasuring him, how his pleasure was also yours. so, you mustered up the courage and told lo’ak that you would let him go down on you, an idea that he suggested a few days after you had given him a handjob.

which brings you to now.

you both had been sitting in silence for at least a few minutes now, and you finally decided to speak up. “so…”

“so..?” he repeats, his eyes flicking down to your crotch before back up to your face. he gulps slightly, suddenly feeling very nervous. he had never done anything like this before, and you were the only one he’d ever want to do this with. “what do i do?”

you chuckle awkwardly. “uhh,” you look away from him, your face flushing with nerves. “im not sure,” you admit.

“how do i… make it good for you?” he asks softly. “do i just… put my mouth down there?” he looks absolutely clueless, but also really eager to learn.

you nod hesitantly. “well, yes… but not immediately, i dont think.”

he cocks an eyebrow in confusion. “okay, so… what first? do i like… kiss around it? is that a thing? eywa, i feel so stupid right now.” he buries his face in his hands briefly before looking back up at you.

you laugh softly. “its okay, just…come here.” you lean in and press your lips to his, hoping to ease some of the tension.

he melts into the kiss immediately, parting his lips to let your tongue in. his hands come up to grip your shoulders gently as he kisses you back eagerly.

your fingers brush against the smooth skin of his shoulders, feeling the heat radiating off him. he hums into the kiss, pulling you closer until your chests are pressed together. when you finally break apart, his eyes are blown wide with lust and affection. “okay, i think i’m ready to learn.”

your cheeks flush and a new wave of nerves pool in your stomach. “okay,” you shift anxiously. “im just gonna, uh, take off my loincloth now..” your hands go down and undo the intricate knots of your loincloth, letting it fall to the ground.

he watches with bated breath as you slowly pull it off, revealing your pussy. his eyes widen slightly, but he doesn't look scared or grossed out. if anything, he looks really curious, and even a little turned on.

heat spreads across your face and you instinctively close your legs, suddenly feeling very bare and exposed before him.

lo’ak reaches out hesitantly and places a gentle hand on your knees. “open your legs for me,” he says softly, his voice gentle and coaxing. “i want to see.”

you hesitate for a moment before obliging, spreading your legs wide and allowing him to see you fully.

his eyes widen as he gets a full view of you. he swallows hard, staring at your pussy like he's never seen anything like it before. (and he probably hasn’t) “it's... really pretty,” he breathes out, reaching out to gently touch your inner thigh, rubbing soothing circles.

“it…is?” you ask, your voice laced with nerves.

“mhm,” he nods slowly, his thumb brushing closer to your center with each circular motion. "i never really thought about it before...but seeing you like this...it's really beautiful." his eyes meet yours.

you feel yourself blush at his words as he gazes lovingly at you. you lean up to press a quick kiss to his lips.

lo’ak smiles softly against your lips, kissing you back with the same gentle affection. when you pull back, he opens his eyes and looks at you with a mix of innocence and desire. “can i….can i touch you?” he asks hesitantly, his hand still on your inner thigh.

you nod. “yes.”

his fingers slowly trail up your inner thigh until they reach your pussy. he hesitates for a moment before gently parting you with his fingers. he touches you softly, exploring you with gentle curiosity. his thumb brushes over your clit accidentally and he freezes. “does that feel good?”

you pause awkwardly. “um… i think maybe you need to move a little more? up here..” you bring your hand down and point to your clit.

his eyes light up with understanding and determination. he moves his thumb exactly where you pointed, pressing down gently on your clit. he watches your reaction closely, his breath hitching when he sees your face flush and your legs shake slightly. “like this?” he asks softly.

you nod. “yeah, thats better…” you let out a small moan at the gentle pressure he’s applying to your clit. “feels good…”

he grins proudly and starts to rub you in slow circles, his other hand coming up to spread you apart even further. he’s still a bit clumsy with his movements, but his enthusiasm makes up for it. after a few minutes of this, he suddenly stops and looks up at you with wide eyes. “you're wet,” he points out.

you nod, your face flushing slightly with embarrassment. “yeah…”

“because of me?” he asks, his voice filled with a mix of pride and disbelief. “am i doing good?”

you smile at how proud he sounds of himself. “yeah, you are.” you pause for a moment. “do you still wanna try…um…” you trail off.

his face lights up with excitement and a hint of nervousness as he understands what you’re asking. he nods eagerly. “yeah, i really wanna try that," he says softly, his eyes dropping down to your pussy. "what do i do?"

“um.. i guess you just start by.. putting your mouth on it? licking it?” you suggest, just as clueless as he is.

he swallows hard, his heart racing with anticipation. he slowly lowers his head between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs gently. he sticks out his tongue hesitantly and gives your clit a soft lick, tasting you for the first time.

the first touch of his tongue to your pussy makes you jump slightly.

lo’ak freezes, looking up at you with wide eyes, his tongue still out. “did i do it right?" he asks softly, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. seeing that you jumped a bit makes him think he did something good.

“uhh, i think you need to do it more?” you suggest.

his eyes light up with understanding and he eagerly starts licking your clit in slow, gentle licks. he spreads your lips apart with his fingers to get better access, his tongue flattening against you. “like this?”

“better,” you breathe out, however he only becomes more clumsy with his movements as he becomes more anxious.

he looks up at you, his face buried between your thighs. he’s trying so hard to please you but he's clearly nervous and unsure of himself. his tongue is moving too fast and too hard in some places, while missing others entirely.

you sit there uncomfortably as he pokes and prods at you with his tongue. you shift your hips slightly, trying to create any sort of friction, but it’s no use.

he continues to lick you, his tongue moving in random patterns as he tries to figure out what feels good. he’s so focused on pleasing you that he doesn't notice how awkward he's being. after a minute or two, he suddenly pauses and looks up at you with a frown.

you meet his gaze and offer him an unconvincing smile.

"i’m doing this wrong, aren't i?" he asks softly, looking frustrated and embarrassed. his tongue was going every which way and he could tell you weren't enjoying it. “eating pussy is supposed to feel good, right? you’re not even moaning or anything...”

you sigh as the truth of his words hit you. “i think you’re overthinking it.” you say, trying to calm him down.

he sighs heavily and buries his face back between your legs, his shoulders slumping slightly. he starts licking you again, but this time even more clumsily as he's gotten frustrated. his tongue flicks out erratically, sometimes hitting the right spot but most of the time missing entirely.

you shake your head. “stop, stop, stop…”

he immediately stops licking you and pulls back, looking up at you with a guilty and embarrassed expression. his face is all red and his hair is messy from being buried between your legs. “i’m sorry," he says softly, hanging his head. “i’m just really bad at this...i don't know what i’m doing...”

you chuckle softly. “you’re nervous.” you point out.

lo’ak nods, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “yeah...i’m really nervous. i just wanna make you feel good but i keep messing it up,” he admits, his hands squeezing your thighs gently. “can you...can you show me how to do it right?”

you nod, offering him a coaxing smile. “just relax, lo’ak. dont overthink it. go slow. pay attention to the way my body reacts. i’ll help you.”

he takes a deep breath, trying to relax as he nods at your instructions. he looks up at you with determination in his eyes, his hands gently spreading you apart again. he starts off slowly, licking your clit gently in long, slow motions. he’s paying close attention to your body language, watching for any signs of pleasure.

“better..” you breathe out, moaning slightly at the pressure his tongue is applying to your clit.

his eyes light up at your moan, his nervousness fading slightly. he continues licking you slowly and gently, his tongue moving in soft, repetitive motions. he’s focused entirely on pleasing you, his hands gripping your thighs softly to keep them spread.

“you can, uh, try more things with your mouth? explore me more?” you suggest, your voice shaking slightly.

he nods eagerly, taking your suggestion to heart. he starts exploring with his mouth, licking up and down your slit and circling your entrance with his tongue. he’s still a bit clumsy, but he's learning what feels good.

you moan louder as he grows more confident in what he’s doing. “yeah, i like that…” you bring a hand down to tangle in his hair.

he groans softly at the feeling of your hand in his hair, encouraging him to keep going. he’s getting more confident now, his tongue moving with more purpose. he starts to focus on your clit, sucking and licking it in a rhythm that makes you squirm. “does this feel good?” he asks against you.

you nod frantically. “yes, fuck, dont stop..” you whine out, hips bucking up slightly towards his mouth.

he smiles against your pussy, happy that he's doing something right. he increases the pressure slightly, sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it rapidly. he can feel your hand gripping his hair tighter and he loves it. “mmm...you like that?”

you nod and bite your lip, a deep blush spreading across your face as you become lost in the pleasure.

he continues his enthusiastic sucking and licking, occasionally glancing up at your flushed face with a mix of pride and arousal. he slides one hand up to gently massage your breast while the other keeps your thighs spread wide.

you whine as his hand touches your breast beneath your top, his thumb brushing over your nipple. “lo’ak…”

he groans against your pussy, not wanting to stop even for a second. he loves hearing his name on your lips like this. he hesitantly slides his hand down to press a finger against your entrance. “you’re so wet...” he rasps out.

without warning, he pushes his finger inside you, slowly pumping in and out while continuing to suck and lick at your bundle of nerves. he watches for your reaction, his voice muffled against your pussy. “this okay?”

your back arches slightly off the ground as he curls his finger to hit a spot inside of you that makes your legs shake. “yes, keep doing that, fuck…”

he groans softly, getting more and more aroused from eating you out and your enthusiastic responses. he adds another finger, curling them inside you. he’s clearly enjoying himself now, his face buried between your thighs like he never wants to come back up.

your soft whimpers echo across the space around you as well as the obscene sounds of his tongue and fingers working your pussy. “im gonna come if you keep doing this,” you warn.

his fingers move faster inside you at your words, his mouth sucking harder. he wants to make you come, wants to see you lose control because of him. he starts to intentionally grind against the ground, his own arousal growing. “mmm...come on my face then..”

your breath catches at his words. “you want me to?” you ask, breathless.

he nods enthusiastically, his fingers pumping in and out of you rapidly now. his tongue flicks over your clit constantly, applying just the right amount of pressure. he spreads his legs wider without you noticing, rubbing his crotch against the ground more deliberately.

you throw your head back and come with a cry, your release gushing over his fingers and mouth.

lo’ak moans loudly against your pussy as you come, sucking and licking through your orgasm until you push his head away gently because it's too sensitive. he lifts his head slowly, face soaked with your arousal and looking completely fucked out himself despite not even touching his own dick.

“that was…” you start, your chest rising and falling with heavy breathes.

lo’ak smiles lazily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. his chest heaves slightly as he catches his breath. he looks up at you with satisfied eyes. “good?”

you nod and give him a genuine smile. “yes. very good.”

his smile turns into a smirk, clearly pleased with himself. he slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to suck them clean. he watches you the whole time, his eyes dark with unfulfilled desire. “you taste amazing... i could eat you out all day.”

a deep blush forms across your face as he praises your taste. you chuckle softly before leaning in and meeting his lips in a searing kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue.

he kisses you back deeply, not caring that his face is covered in your juices. his tongue sweeps into your mouth, sharing your taste between the both of you.

you pull back, eyes wide with desire. “should i…return the favor?” you ask, but then your eyes dart down to his loincloth, completely soaked. “oh..”

he looks down at his stained loincloth and blushes deeply, realizing you can see exactly how aroused eating you out made him. he hadn’t even touched himself and yet he came just from pleasuring you with his mouth. “i, uh...” he looks away, avoiding your eyes.

you laugh softly at his flustered expression. “dont be embarrased.” you reassure him.

he nods, trying to smile sheepishly despite his obvious embarrassment. “it just... happened. tasting you, seeing you react... it was too much.” he admits quietly.

“its okay,” you reassure him. “its kinda sweet. and kinda hot,” you admit, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “it shows how much you like me..”

he blushes even deeper at your words, looking down at the wet stain on his loincloth with a mix of embarrassment and pride. he likes that you found it enjoyable, likes knowing that eating you out turned him on so much that he couldn't help but come in his loincloth.

you smile and press your lips to his in a quick kiss. “wanna clean up now?” you ask.

he nods, slowly standing up on shaky legs, his wet loincloth leaving a damp spot on the ground. he offers you his hand to help you up, his face still flushed with embarrassment and arousal. “yeah, that's a good idea. i'm kind of a mess….”

you laugh softly and nod your head in agreement. “yeah, you are…”

the two of you clean up and continue with your day, ultimately feeling very pleased about the experience you shared together.

hope yall liked dis one 😁😁😁 as always don’t hesitate to send me ideas!

[vaniellea]

You can’t sleep so your mate Neteyam fuck you to sleep

minors dni | 18+

TW : explicit smut, post-pregnancy sex, soft dom neteyam, overstimulation, creampie, mental fatigue, slight angst, motherhood stress

WC : 3k

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

𝐋𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩

It's been years since you gave birth to your second baby.

Another boy.

Your first boy was hell—tantrums louder than normal, constant chaos that left you drained to the bone, little hands grabbing at you nonstop.

But not with your second one—he's calmer, sweeter, like he balances out the storm.

The kids have been more active and vocal lately, though.

It's like they feed off each other's anger, bouncing screams and fights back and forth until the marui feels like it's closing in.

And Neteyam was nowhere usually.

He was always so drawn into the war, it was hard to find him—out with Jake's strategies, scouting threats, his broad shoulders tense under the weight of it all.

Jake ended up making him a war leader.

With Neteyam leading the war, it scared you deep in your gut.

But you knew Neteyam.

You knew no other man was capable of leading like he could—steady, fair, eyes sharp but heart open.

You were worried his kindness would get in the way.

That he would sacrifice himself for the life of another.

He always does that. He puts others before himself. It was one of the reasons you fell in love with him.

It was hard not to.

The kids had you at your breaking point that morning—screaming over nothing, tugging at you from both sides, your head pounding from the noise, chest tight like you couldn't breathe right.

Neteyam came in from planning, saw your face twisted in exhaustion, and reached for you gentle, his big hands pulling you into his warmth.

You took a deep breath, hands shaking a little on his arms. "Give me a second," you muttered, voice barely there, but he didn't hear over the boys' wails, already murmuring soft reassurances.

"Give me a second!" you said louder, voice cracking raw. He froze instant, ears flicking back apologetic, golden eyes wide with worry.

Then he nodded slow, hands loosening but not letting go, thumbs stroking your shoulders light.

"Take all you need, yawne," he whispered, voice low and patient, waiting right there till you breathed out shaky, the storm in your chest easing just from his steady presence.

And that's why you're in the clouded forest now.

He may not be there with you as much, but he loved spending as much time with you as possible—those rare hours where his world narrowed to just you, tail curling soft around your leg.

You didn't have to say the kids were mentally draining you.

He knew from your heavy smile, the way your eyes dimmed, that he needed to provide for you more.

He asked his mom if she could take the kids while he took you to get some fresh air for a few days.

And of course she agreed, her wrinkled hands gentle on their heads.

She loves your boys.

She tells you all the time they remind her of Neteyam when he was just a baby by himself—fierce little spirits, full of fire.

You and Neteyam walked all day around the clouded forest, vines brushing your skin, mist kissing your faces. You saw the prettiest waterfalls of your life—crystal threads plunging into pools that shimmered like Eywa's tears.

The coldest water, shocking your toes when you dipped them in, laughing breathless as Neteyam pulled you close against the chill.

You never really visited much since the Sarentu troubles, the war keeping everyone pinned down. And you really needed this—air that felt clean, his hand in yours, no cries pulling you apart.

You were with Neteyam at a camp from a clan in the clouded forest.

They gave you a beautiful room, big and woven from glowing vines, art drawn along the roof—illustrations of their story, ancestors dancing in bioluminescent swirls that pulsed faint like stars.

Neteyam's arms were wrapped around your waist, gentle as always, his chest solid against your back, breath even in sleep.

You don't know if it was your body so used to being up and down for your kids—pacing around at odd hours, nursing through the night—but you couldn't sleep.

Maybe your body was conditioned to stay awake, ears pricked for cries that weren't coming.

You really couldn't tell.

You blinked around the room, tracing the glowing patterns, hoping it would hypnotize you to sleep. But it never did.

It's been what felt like hours now, the mist outside humming soft. Your muscles start to tense, so you adjust yourself a little, shifting your hips. Your movement nudges Neteyam out of his own sleep, his arm tightening instinctive.

Like he can feel you awake, he murmurs sleepy, voice rough from dreams, "Why are you up?" It takes a while for you to respond, exhaustion heavy, giving him a simple,

"Can't sleep."

He rubs gentle touches along your stomach, fingers tracing the faint stretch marks from carrying his boys, calluses soft from years of bows and blades.

"What can I do to help?" His words rumble warm against your ear, no judgment, just care.

There really wasn't much he could do.

What was he gonna do?

Sing you a lullaby like the kits?

"You could touch me." It started off as a sarcastic joke, half-bitter from tiredness.

You weren't serious.

But when his fingers started at your sore breasts from milk feeding, slipping just under your top, your opinion started to change just a little.

They were slow and tender, kneading the ache away like he knew every tender spot.

This wasn't his first time with his hands around your boobs.

As of recently, it was because you asked him to—nights when your nipples were so sore from your son sucking on them like he hasn't eaten in years, greedy mouth pulling till you winced.

It felt like you fed him so much milk, but the next day you'd be back full and clogged, heavy and throbbing.

So of course Neteyam came to your rescue before leaving the next morning for his war planning, hands patient, mouth soothing when you needed it.

You twitched under his touch gently, a soft gasp slipping out.

His chest pressed firmer against your back, heart picking up.

You could feel his own body heat up just a fraction, breath deepening.

His thumb and index finger twisted along your nipple lightly, rolling the peak till it hardened sweet under him.

Your fingers flew to your lips, pressing hard to block out your own moans, but they leaked through muffled.

Your legs squeezed together for more pressure, thighs rubbing slick. Neteyam's own legs tangled against yours, strong and warm.

His kisses started from the back of your neck to your shoulder—gentle, open-mouthed, trailing slow like he was mapping you anew.

He mumbled a few things you couldn't quite hear from the heat of the moment, words lost in the haze.

His fingers slowed down a little on the twitches as his palm grazed along your tits, cupping full and heavy, like he was feeling every inch of you, memorizing the weight. His kisses didn't stop—soft presses along your skin.

He continued to kiss you as his hands dragged along your tiddies, feeling the hardness of your nipples peak every time his hand touched.

His hips ground lightly against your ass.

It was slow, deliberate, but you could feel it building—his thick cock tracing along your ass through the thin cloth.

You could feel it slow through your crack just a little, parting your cheeks, heat throbbing insistent.

His hand rested on your lips as you moaned against his touch, fingers warm over yours.

Taking his hand, he pushed your hair behind your head gentle, landing kisses there—soft on your scalp, your ear—as he tugged your loincloth down.

He started on the hip you weren't laying on, peeling it slow.

Then you lifted your body a bit, helping pull the other side down.

You could feel the cloth slowly come off your pussy, cool air hitting wet skin.

A trail of your juices left a quick string on your bottoms before it broke, sticky and warm.

You could feel your pussy juices slide between your legs as you moved your own hips back against Neteyam's grind, chasing the friction.

Even though Neteyam wasn't inside you just yet, you could hear the sound of your pussy moving from the grinding in the room—wet, slick noises filling the quiet.

His hand pulled up from your hips gentle.

His whole hand grabbed your breasts now, squeezing full.

You could feel the fabric of his loincloth hitting against your ass with each roll.

He groaned low in your ear before he laughed to himself, soft and breathy, like he couldn't believe this either.

Then landed kisses back on your ear, tongue flicking light.

His question came in pieces, voice strained. "Do you—" As he huffed warm against the touch of your ass, grinding deeper.

"Care if I—" Another moan cut him off from the sound of your pussy being tossed around from his growing cock under his loincloth, hard line pressing insistent.

"Put it in." His pace sped up just a little against your ass—firmer—before slowing down again, placing kisses on your ears, breath ragged.

His hand untightened under his touch as he gripped a little too hard to control himself, fingers digging into your breast like your boobs were his stress ball, kneading the tension from his day.

You didn't say anything for a while.

Because if you moved your fingers from your lips, you would definitely moan loud.

Your face scrunched in pleasure, brows knit, eyes fluttering.

He started moving his hips left and right now, side to side, teasing.

The sound of your pussy even louder as your own pussy lips hit against your clit with the motion, sparks shooting up your spine.

"Neteyam," you whispered in a moan as you finally voiced some type of words, breathy and desperate.

He doesn't answer you in words but with a deep groan, rumbling from his chest.

His lips connected to your ear again, sucking soft.

"I need it."

That was all he needed to hear. His own loincloth pulled down high enough for his cock and balls to fall out heavy, free.

His hand went back up to your waist, gripping firm as his cock slid against your ass to make it to your pussy—hot, slick trail.

The tip slid against the entrance slowly, nudging your folds. His tip was preparing you for what was about to come, circling wet.

Slowly his cock slid along your thighs just on your lips, teasing the length. You could feel his cock on your thighs, thick and pulsing, then he went right back to your hole. He didn't need his hands to position it correctly. He was hard enough for that—standing rigid.

You could feel his tip slowly open you up, parting folds with that first sweet stretch.

It went in slow as the touch opened both of your mouths in matching gasps.

His hips stuttered a little—overwhelmed—before he continued again, sinking deeper.

His balls sat heavy against the outside of your pussy, warm and full.

His hands found their way to your tits again as he caught his breath against your ear, panting soft. He doesn't move himself at first, so you take the chance to slowly move your hips. They're slow and short rolls. But this is enough for Neteyam to let out a low growl, tail flicking. "Yeah," he breathed out, voice gravel. "Like that."

You could feel him inside you as you moved—thick, filling, your walls clenching around him greedy. And then he started moving himself.

His thrusts started steady, deep but not rushed—each one filling you to the brim, his thick length dragging slow along your walls, textured ridges catching every spot that made your breath hitch sharp.

You felt every inch stretch you open, his hips snapping soft against your ass at first, skin meeting skin with quiet, wet slaps that echoed soft in the woven room.

His hand stayed firm on your hip, thumb rubbing small, soothing circles there, keeping you grounded while his palm moved back to your breast, squeezing gentle like he was worshiping the weight of it, the milk-warmth.

"So good for me, yawne," he murmured low into your ear, voice rough-edged with need, breath fanning hot.

"You’re doing so good."

Your body rocked forward with him, pussy gripping tight on every pull back, wet sounds growing louder, slicker as he picked up just a hint of pace—grinding deep, circling his hips to nudge that bundle inside you till pleasure coiled tight.

Your head fell back against his chest, and your back arched sharp, spine curving to take him better.

You could feel him poking your stomach over and over again—bulge pressing under your skin with each deep plunge. Your ass slapping against his hips now, louder rhythm building, flesh rippling soft. He lifted your leg up, placing it on top of his as he deepened his thrusts.

He hooked your leg over his thick thigh easy, muscles flexing under your calf as he held it there firm, opening you up wider for him—vulnerable, exposed.

Thrusts went deeper now, harder into the angle, his cock plunging full and relentless each time, tip brushing that devastating spot inside that made stars burst hot behind your eyes, vision blurring.

Ass slapped louder against him, the sharp sound mixing with your gasps pitching higher and his low grunts right by your ear, tail wrapping your thigh possessive.

Your tiddies jump with every thrust

"That's it, ma yawne—feel me right there? So deep," he whispered, breath hot and ragged on your neck, free hand sliding down your belly flat, pressing right where you felt him move inside, making the pressure sharper, your walls fluttering wild and desperate around his girth.

Wet heat built fast, your juices slicking his length, dripping down, his heavy balls tapping soft and steady against you with every roll, skin sticky.

And then you came all around his cock—walls pulsing hard, squeezing him in tight waves that crashed over you, body shaking as pleasure ripped through, soaking him further.

But he's not done with you.

He whispered sweet nothings as he flipped you on your stomach, cock still pounding you.

"Shh, I got you, love—easy now," he breathed soft against your ear, easing you over gentle even as he stayed buried deep, not missing a beat.

On your stomach now, face pressed warm into the soft furs of the bed, he hovered half over you—broad chest brushing your back sweat-slick, one arm braced by your head for leverage, the other guiding your hip up just enough.

Cock pounded steady, deep strokes that rocked your whole body forward with each one, ass lifting instinctive to meet him, walls clenching oversensitive.

"So beautiful like this, taking all of me.," his voice stayed low, reassuring like a promise, lips grazing your shoulder blade between thrusts, tail curling over your thigh.

And he continued to fuck you as he got on top of you with your stomach on the ground bed.

He whispered sweet reassuring words to you as your toes curled and you twisted under him as he fucks you.

He shifted full over you now, weight pressing you firm into the bed—comforting blanket of muscle, hips driving down slow but powerful, pinning you sweet with every plunge, cock stretching you full as your toes curled tight into the furs, body twisting instinctive under him from the overwhelm, fingers clawing sheets.

"You're doing so good, yawne—feel perfect around me. Almost there again? I have you, always," he murmured right by your ear, voice warm and steady like an anchor, nosing your hair gentle.

One hand laced fingers with yours tight, squeezing reassuring, while the other braced your hip, keeping the rhythm deep and grinding—wet slaps filling the air louder, your pussy clenching him over and over, chasing that blinding edge as sensitivity turned everything electric.

He kept going till his breaths turned ragged, hips stuttering uneven as he chased his own end—groans deepening.

"Gonna—fuck, yawne, gonna —" A deep groan rumbled from his chest, raw and broken, and he came hard, thick ropes spilling hot inside you, pulsing with every final thrust till he filled you full, overflowing warm.

Slowed to lazy rocks, milking every drop, chest heaving against your back.

Then finally pulled out careful, slow, watching his cum leak messy from you, a soft hiss escaping him.

He gathered you close right after, arms wrapping tight around your spent body, lips pressing soft to your temple, your forehead.

His tail draped over you both, breaths syncing slow as exhaustion finally pulled you under, safe in his hold.

I’m not sure how I feel about this, but i hope you’ve made it this far ❤️

You are welcome to request, I would lot to write something for you

[vaniellea]

⭒ husband neteyam giving exhausted mate a body massage

Warnings: maybe one or two mentions of your asshole

Neteyam pushes through the doorway and stops the second he sees you.

You’re bouncing the baby on your hip, hair a mess, voice tight as you try to wrangle the older two who are screaming and running circles around the marui. Your shoulders are practically up by your ears.

He doesn’t even say anything at first then walks straight over, takes the fussing toddler from your arms, 

“Out. Go play,” he tells them, voice low and final. They don’t argue because the next second, they’re gone, then Neteyam turns back to you.

Neteyam doesn’t say a word at first. He sets his kid in his arms down with his siblings, and waits until the sound of their feet fades down the walkway. 

Then he looks at you and yeah, it’s bad. 

You’re standing there like you’ve forgotten how to breathe, hair sticking to your face, hands clenched because, if you don’t, you’ll probably cry or yell or both.

He sighs quietly. It’s the kind of sigh that sounds more like a thought than a sound, and then moves. 

You try to protest when he starts picking stuff up—“Neteyam, I’ll do it,”—but he cuts you a look over his shoulder, and you just shut your mouth. 

He starts folding small things first—baby cloth, one of the kid’s tunics—then moves to the bigger mess. The floor creaks under his feet, his tail flicking once as he steps over something. 

He’s calm, too calm for how fried you feel, and weirdly that makes it worse for a second. You almost hate how easily he can bring order to something that had you spiraling an hour ago.

You sink down on the nearest mat, rubbing your hands over your face. Everything smells like milk and smoke and something faintly metallic. 

You hear the quiet clatter of bowls, his footsteps moving back and forth. It’s grounding in a way you didn’t know you needed.

When you finally look up, he’s standing infront of you, hands on his hips, surveying what’s left like he’s checking a hunt site. His mouth twitches when he catches your expression. “You feeling better?”

You shake your head, half laughing. “No. I’m sorry. I lost it.”

He frowns like that word offends him. “Don’t say that.”

“I was just tired. They were screaming, and—”

“Hey.” He steps closer, voice low but firm. “Stop apologizing.” 

You do. Because he’s in front of you now, crouching down until he’s eye level, hands resting on his knees like he’s trying not to touch you yet. “You don’t need to be sorry for being overwhelmed,” he says. “It happens. You’ve been doing everything.”

He says it like it’s obvious. Like it’s a fact that doesn’t need defending. Then he reaches out, fixes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, thumb brushing your cheekbone. It’s such a small thing, but suddenly your chest feels too tight.

“C’mon,” he says after a second, nodding toward the hammock. “Lay down before I make you.”

You roll your eyes but obey, dropping back against the fabric with a little huff. 

He grins, satisfied, and goes right back to tidying up like he didn’t just completely reset your nervous system. 

The kids are still shouting somewhere outside, but it’s softer now, kinda like background noise and for the first time you’re able close your eyes and breathe.  

You must’ve fallen asleep without meaning to because when you finally wake up, the sun is more golden around the edges of the room and the air smells faintly like herbs. 

You can feel Neteyam’s hands on you, moving slow along your skin.  

He’s sitting beside you, while his palms slide over your legs, spreading oil and pressing his thumbs in just hard enough to ease the ache that settled there during the day. 

you blink a few times while rubbing the sleep from your eyes, trying to catch up to whatever’s happening.  

“Was wondering when you’d wake up,” he says, and there’s a small smile in his voice because he already knows how long you needed that nap.  

You lift a hand to your face and cover a yawn before mumbling, “Where are the kids?” because suddenly the quiet feels strange without their usual noise.  

“They’re with mother,” he says easily, not looking up. 

“They ate, and they’re probably asleep by now.” He pours a little more oil into his hands while you watch and rubs them together before pressing back into the muscle of your thigh. “You should’ve told me you were this tired.”  

You stretch a leg out and glance at him through half lidded eyes.

“You already have too much to worry about,” you say quietly while placing your hand on huge muscle of his arm. “The war, the patrols… and all I do is keep things running here, and I can barely manage that properly.”  

He glances at you for a second with a kind of look that says you have it wrong, and the corner of his mouth twitches because he’s half amused. “That’s not true,” he says while dragging his thumb up the back of your leg. 

“You think it’s easier for me? I spend all day with grown adults who don’t listen. It’s not simpler than what you do. At least the kids try.”  

You let out a quiet laugh because you didn’t expect that, and you tilt your head back again while his hands keep moving up and down your thigh. 

He moves closer so one knee brushes your leg. “It’s not simple keeping them fed and this place together,” he says after a bit, voice lower now because he’s concentrating. “You make it look easy, but I’ve seen how much you give.”  

You exhale and it feels heavy but good, and the sound of it blends with how steady he’s breathing near you. 

Surprisly, the air feels warmer now, thick with the scent of the oils, and even the noises outside fade into a low hum.  

He leans forward a little while his voice drops softer. “You don’t have to hold everything up alone,yawne” he says while his thumbs drags higher up your thigh, lightly rubbing your inner thigh one last time before smoothing back down again. “You can tell me when you need help. That’s all I want.”  

You nod because speaking feels pointless right now.

Neteyam reaches for the small clay bowl with a patient smile.

He pours more oil into his palms until it drips onto his own thigh and rubs his hands together until they glisten.  

“Always cold at first,” he murmurs, blowing into his hands with a long grin before they meet your skin.  

His hands return to your legs, starting at your calves first, sliding up slow. His palms press into your muscles, working the ache out as they move higher.  

You twitch at the first touch, your breath catching. “Mhm… that feels…”  

He chuckles under his breath. “Good? Yeah, I know.”  

His fingers wrap around your thighs, thumbs stroking your sensitive skin on the inside as he glides upward. 

It’s not a suprise that the oil makes everything warm and slick as be takes his time letting his hands explore the soft flesh, squeezing gently here and there before they drift even higher.  

Only then do his slick fingers finally reach the outer lips of your pussy. He traces them careful and slow, spreading the warm oil over the soft folds. He rubs it thoroughly along every curve, his thumb gliding back and forth. 

“Is it cold?,” he says softly, voice low enough to put you to sleep

You lift your hips slightly, breath stuttering. “You’re teasing me.”  

He smiles but doesn’t deny it.  

He makes sure to coat your inner thighs too, the oil is  dripping a little as he smooths it in. You can also hear his slow breathing above you

He drags his palms higher after that, rubbing slow circles over your plump stomach, over the stretch marks from your multiple pregnancies over the years. The pressure is light but firm, easing the looseness there.  

“You’ve been carrying too much right here,” he murmurs, voice close with a small pout.   

You blink, half laughing into the stillness. “You talk like a healer.”  

He grins, fingers moving wider. “Maybe I am. Just for you.”  

He reaches for the bowl again and pours more oil. 

Slowly, —after his hands make their way up your waist and ribcage— His hands move to your breasts, cupping them gently. His palms glide over the soft curves, thumbs brushing across your nipples in slow strokes as he works the oil in. You let out a heavy sigh when he rolls a nipple between his thumb and finger.  

“That’s… nice,” you whisper.  

“Yeah?” His gaze flickers up to your expression, voice almost teasing again. “Feels better when you tell me that.”  

He takes his time, letting his fingers feel the weight of them, the way they fit in his hands. Neteyam reaches for more oil while still talking soft. “Turn over for me.”

You pull yourself up, with Neteyams help and you roll onto your stomach. 

He’s already rubbing fresh oil between his palms. Once you settle, he starts on your back, long strokes smoothing down your spine then he works lower to your hips, kneading the tension away, then up to your shoulders.  

The sound you make is half relief and not surprisingly but half want. “You’re too good at this.”  

He laughs quietly, leaning close to you. “I’ve been practicing.”  

Finally his hands reach your ass. He squeezes the soft flesh, fingers digging in deep into the curve of your ass. 

He slides to the underside where your ass meets the back of your thighs next and rubs there firm. He squeezes again, then gently pulls your cheeks open just a little, to look whatever your fat covered, maybe it’s your vagina maybe it’s your ass, who knows. 

“Open your legs,” he says quietly.  

You do. 

His hand returns between your thighs and rubs your pussy from behind, slow like everything else. His fingers glide over your folds once again, massaging more oil into your skin. 

Then they drag down again and he feels how wet you are.

He pauses. “Yawne… if you felt this good you should’ve told me.”  

You bury your face in your arms and let out a small whine, pout, an embarrassing sound, to describe how embarrassed you are. 

“Couldn’t find the words?” he teases lightly, his smile is very audible.  

Neteyam glances toward the doorway, checking the empty path outside. Then he slides one finger along your pussy lips, parting them with a loud wet sound. You shiver at that because it’s too loud in the quiet. He strokes up and down your clit slowly a few times, then eases a single finger inside you.  

A shaky, breathless sound escapes your throat as you arch into his finger sinking inside of you. “Neteyam…”  

He looks to the doorway again before quickening his pace, finger moving in and out letting the wet sounds fill the marui.  

“Open your legs a little more,” he whispers.  

You do. 

His fingers start slapping lightly against your ass as your as his fingers deepen ,and to top it off, your ass is shaking against the pressure and it only makes it worse for Neteyam. You bite your arm, trying hard to keep quiet.  

Your whimpers turn into soft desperate whispers. “Neteyam… please… I want you…”  

He exhales sharply through his nose, a small smile tugging his lips. “You always ask nicely when you’re desperate.”  

“Please…” you breathe again, voice cracking.  

He pulls his finger out of you with a string of your arousal and presses his thumb there instead, making slow circles right over your hole without pushing in. 

You arch back into it. He looks around one last time, then moves behind you. His thighs cage you in, knees sinking into the floor.  

He tugs his loincloth down just enough for his cock to slide free. It bounces around a while as he’s fixing his position behind you before he catches hold of it.  

After one more quick glance behind him, he holds the base of his cock with his right hand and slides his cock up and down your slick folds, coating himself. 

His left hand squeezes your left ass cheek tight, shaking it a little and his thumb pulls at the underside so he can see your pussy and asshole better.  

Then he presses inside you slowly and his head tilts back a bit at the tightness of you and the pleasure from it.  

“Fuck…” he mutters, breath trembling, “you take me too well.”  

Once his cock is deep enough inside of you, he braces his hands beside you and lowers his chest to your back. 

He brushes your hair behind your ear.  

“You feel so good,” he whispers against your skin.  

You turn your head just a little, voice muffled. “You always say that.”  

He chuckles softly, the sound almost lost in the sound of your breaths. “Because it’s always true.”  

He sinks all the way in until his balls rest against your clit, chest pressed warm to your back. Because of the intense amount of pleasure, be stays there, licking soft at your ear and kissing your cheek. 

His hair falls along your face until he tucks it back. He keeps kissing you gently while his cock rests deep inside.  

When your whimpers quiet he starts short grinds, hips barely lifting. Quiet moans slip from both of you, hushed and close.  

Eventually he lifts his hips more and thrusts shallow, careful not to slap loud against your ass. Every now and then his hips accidentally meet your skin with a soft smack but the only sounds are your whispered cries,his low groans, and the wet slick of your pussy taking him.  

“Faster,” you whisper, almost too quietly.  

“ you want to go faster?” He teases in your ear then gives you a kiss there and does exactly what you ask.

He gives you one more kiss on the cheek, then pushes up from your back. His hands grip your hips, thumbs near your ass, pushing you deeper into the floor and he thrusts deeper, still keeping the noise low but the wet sounds of your pussy grow louder.  

You cum hard randomly, it’s not out of the ordinary for your body to do so after giving birth to many times. Your body is trembling as tears prick your eyes. He slows but doesn’t stop and then he grabs your wrists and guides your hands back. “Hold it for me.”  

You do, spreading yourself so he can sink deeper without as much slapping noises. He groans soft and moves harder. Fresh tears slip down your cheeks from how good it feels as you lay your head deeper into the floor.

Eventually, he cums he pushes in as deep as he can, balls tight against your clit. He grinds there, shaking his hips side to side to push every drop inside. He gives one last deep thrust and he slowly pulls out.  

His cum spills from your pussy right away, thick and warm, dripping down over your clit to the floor and smearing on your inner thighs.  

Neteyam sits beside you, breathing steady. He smiles softly when he sees you’ve already fallen asleep again. 

He leans in and kisses your cheek quick, then reaches down one more time. He gently parts your pussy lips and lets the rest of his cum drip out slowly, watching it run down your folds and thighs.  

“Sleep, yawne,” he whispers, brushing his thumb across the hollow of your hip. “I’ll clean you.”  

And for a while, this still the best sleep you’ve gotten in a while.  

Hey does anyone want to claim any emojis so I can add to my pinned?

Based off this request!

[connorwyndham]

AVATAR: FIRE AND ASH (2025) Directed by James Cameron.

[vaniellea]

⭒ can neteyam last a full month without your pussy?

“Ah… mhhh… Neteyam,” you whispered through his fingers, slobber soaking through his palm as your eyes fluttered. Your voice came out muffled and broken, but you couldn’t stop the little whimpers escaping anyway.

“You gotta keep quiet, yawne,” he growled low against your ear, hips snapping harder. His breath was hot on your neck. “They’ll hear us.”

You nodded weakly, but it was useless. Another thrust had your back arching, pushing back against him. 

He cursed under his breath, pace faltering for a second before he drove in deep and stayed there.

You felt the hot spill of his cum as he came, pulsing inside you, some of it leaking out around his cock and dripping down to coat the crescent of your clit. His hips kept slapping against your ass in short, greedy strokes, milking every last drop while your own orgasm crashed over you shamelessly, toes curling in the furs.

For a moment the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the distant calls of the forest outside.

But Neteyam didn’t pull out.

Instead he shifted, rolling you both onto your sides so he was spooned behind you, cock still buried deep inside your slick heat. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his chest as he lazily rolled his hips again, slow and deep.

You let out a tired little laugh, still hazy from coming so hard. “Yawn—agh… don’t you have a meeting to go to?”

He groaned, nuzzling into the back of your neck, hips giving one more slow thrust like he couldn’t help it. “Five more minutes…”

You giggled softly, reaching back to thread your fingers through his braids. “You said that twenty minutes ago.”

Neteyam sighed, but finally pulled out with a wet sound, his cum leaking out of you in a warm rush. He sat up fast, ears flicking as he grabbed his loincloth and started tying it on, looking guilty. “Shit. I’m sorry, yawne. I really can’t help you clean up this time. Jake’s gonna kill me if I’m late again.”

You rolled onto your back, stretching lazily, feeling the mess between your thighs. A little laugh bubbled out of you. “It’s fine. Go be the perfect son. But we both know you can’t get enough of me.”

He paused mid tie, shooting you a crooked grin that always made your stomach flip. “Can you blame me? Look at you.” His eyes dragged over your body, still flushed and marked from his hands. “One of these days I’m actually gonna make it out the door on time.”

You sat up on your elbows, smirking. “Sure you will. Hey… since you clearly can’t keep your hands off me, how about a little game? One whole month. No sex.. First one to cave loses. Loser has to take the other’s fire watches for two moons.”

Neteyam raised an eyebrow, finishing with his loincloth. He looked amused… and already interested. “You really think you can last a month without begging for me?”

You tilted your head, biting your lip. “I think you’re the one who’s gonna break first, mighty warrior. You can’t even leave for a meeting without making love to me twice.”

He laughed low, leaning down to press one last quick kiss to your forehead carefully not to let it turn into more. “Deal. Starting right now.”

Then he was gone, slipping out of the kelku with one last heated glance over his shoulder.

The first few days were almost easy. 

Almost.

You’d catch his eyes across the village. 

During training he’d watch you stretch a little too long, but he’d look away fast. 

At dinner you sat across from him instead of your usual spot tucked against his side.

By day five the teasing started on your end.

You wore the thin woven top he loved, the one with the delicate beads that clicked softly when you moved. 

During morning herb gathering you “needed help” reaching a high branch. You called him over all sweet, standing on your toes with your back arched, tail swaying slow. When he stepped up behind you, hands hovering but never touching, you leaned back just enough for your spine to brush his chest for half a second.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re evil.”

You smiled over your shoulder, all innocent. “I’m just reaching, ‘Teyam. Is that against the rules?”

His tail lashed once behind him hard.

Day eight you got bolder.

At the river you bent over extra slow to rinse herbs, knowing exactly how the sunlight hit your skin and how your loincloth rode up into the folds of your lips. 

Neteyam was supposed to be helping Lo’ak with something nearby, but his eyes kept drifting to you. You caught him staring, you always did with his tight jaw, and gave him a little wave with wet fingers.

That night at the communal fire you licked sauce off your thumb slowly while holding his gaze. His ears pinned back. Tail flicking restlessly against the mat.

“You’re playing dirty,” he muttered when no one was close enough to hear.

You shrugged, smiling sweetly. “I’m just eating. You’re the one who can’t stop looking.”

Day twelve, during ikran sightings you stretched languidly in front of him, arching your back, letting out a soft sigh that sounded way too much like the noises you made when he was inside you. His arrow went wide which caused Lo’ak to laugh his ass off.

By day seventeen Neteyam was fraying.

You could see it in the way he carried himself—shoulders tense, jaw set, golden eyes following you everywhere with barely hidden hunger. 

At night you could hear him shifting restlessly on his mat across the kelku. Once, when you were alone for half a second near the edge of the forest, you stepped just close enough that he could feel your body heat but not close enough to break the rules.

“Only thirteen more days,” you whispered, tilting your head so your hair fell over your shoulder, exposing your neck. “Think you can make it, baby? Or are you gonna cave and drag me behind a tree like you always do?”

His breath hitched. He leaned in, forehead almost touching yours, voice rough. “Keep pushing and see what happens when I finally snap.”

You smiled, slow and teasing, even as heat curled low in your belly. “Big words for someone who looks ready to break.”

He backed away with visible effort, breathing hard, and disappeared into the trees.

Day twenty-one.

The teasing had turned into a full game now.

You wore the tiny accessories he used to love taking off with his teeth. You stretched catlike in front of him whenever you could. 

You’d “accidentally” brush past him close enough for your tail to flick against his calf. Every time you caught him staring you’d lick your lips or tilt your hips just so.

Neteyam was suffering.

His usual steady calm was gone. He’d started taking longer patrols just to get space, but he always came back and found you waiting at home with soft smiles, pushing every button he had.

Tonight the family was settling in the kelku, bioluminescent plants casting soft purple glows. Lo’ak was telling some story, but Neteyam wasn’t listening. His eyes were locked on you.

You stretched lazily on your mat, arching your back slow and pretty, letting out a quiet sigh that sounded exactly like the ones he used to pull from you when his mouth was between your legs.

His tail lashed hard.

You met his gaze across the space, lips curving. “Something wrong, ‘Teyam?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared, chest rising faster, fists tight on his knees.

Later, when everything had gone quiet, you slipped out onto the little ledge overlooking the glowing forest. The air was thick with night flowers. You leaned against the vine railing, heart beating fast, knowing he’d follow.

He did.

Soft footsteps. Then his voice, low and strained like he was barely holding on.

“You’re killing me,” he said, stopping a careful distance away. Golden eyes dark, pupils wide. “You know that, right?”

You turned, letting the moonlight paint your skin. “I’m just enjoying the night air. Is that a crime now?”

He stepped closer, fists clenched. “The way you move. The way you look at me. Whispering those things…” His voice dropped. “You have any idea how bad I want to fuck you against this railing right now?”

“Then why don’t you?”

He growled, eyes squeezing shut for a second. “Nine more days. Nine more days and when you finally cave, I’m not stopping until you can’t walk straight.”

You smiled, thighs pressing together even as your own body ached for him. “Big talk for someone who’s been hard nearly everyday ”

Neteyam opened his eyes and gave you one last burning look, like he wanted to devour you whole. Then he backed up slowly.

“Keep teasing,” he warned, voice rough. “See what happens.”

He turned and disappeared back inside, leaving you standing there with shaky legs and a racing heart.

Twenty-one days down.

And resisting Neteyam Sully for a whole month?

It was starting to feel completely impossible.

Especially when you wanted him just as badly.

You were getting ready for bed, standing near the low sleeping mats in nothing but your thin loincloth, fingers working through your hair to loosen the braids from the day. 

The month was finally over. 

Twenty nine long days of teasing, 

Twenty nine days of pure torture. 

Twenty nine days of you wearing a tiny woven top just to watch his ears flick and his tail lash. 

Twenty nine days of bending over slow when you knew he was looking, of whispering filthy little reminders when you passed him in the village, of stretching on your mat at night before you slept so the soft sigh you let out sounded exactly like the ones he used to pull out of you when he was buried deep inside of you.

Neteyam had held on. Barely.

You’d seen him crack in little ways but he never touched. 

Never kissed. 

Never dragged you off like he used to. 

But tonight the month was up.

The kelku was quiet, everyone else asleep or out on late patrol.

You heard soft footsteps behind you.

You didn’t even have time to turn around fully before Neteyam was there.

He didn’t say a word at first. Just stepped right up behind you, chest pressing to your back, one arm wrapping around your waist and yanking you against him. His other hand came up to grip your jaw, tilting your head so he could growl low against your ear.

“Twenty nine days,” he rasped, voice rough like he’d been holding it in forever. “You teased me every single one of them..”

His hips rolled forward, and you felt how hard he already was, pressing against your ass through the thin fabric. You let out a shaky breath, hands gripping the railing.

“Neteyam—”

“Did you have fun?” His fingers tightened on your jaw, not enough to hurt but enough to make your knees weak. “You had your fun. Now it’s my turn.”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer because he cut you off with a low growl that rumbled straight through his chest and into yours, the sound vibrating against your back before he spun you around so fast your breath caught in your throat. 

For a moment he just stared at you, chest rising and falling hard, like he was memorizing every inch of your face after forcing himself to stay away for so long.

Then his hands moved.

Without another word he pushed you down, firm but careful, guiding your shoulders until your knees sank into the soft furs of the sleeping mats. 

You went willingly, heart hammering loud in your ears as you looked up at him. 

Neteyam’s fingers were already working at the ties of his loincloth, tugging the knots loose with impatient jerks. The thin fabric slid down his hips and thighs, pooling at his feet before he kicked it aside. His cock sprang free, heavy and flushed, the tip already leaking and glistening in the low bioluminescent glow of the kelku.

“Open,” he ordered, voice low and rough, almost hoarse from how long he’d been holding everything back.

Your lips parted instantly. He didn’t ease in. One big hand fisted tight in your hair, gripping right at the roots so he could control your head, while the other wrapped around the base of his cock to guide it. He pushed forward in one smooth motion, sliding past your lips and straight into the wet heat of your mouth until the head bumped the back of your throat.

You moaned around him right away, the sound muffled and vibrating along his length. Slobber spilled immediately from the corners of your stretched lips, warm and messy, as he sank deeper. Your eyes watered, lashes fluttering, but you breathed through your nose and relaxed your jaw, letting your throat open for him.

“That’s it,” he groaned, hips rolling forward slow and deep at first, savoring every second after the long month of nothing. “Take it, yawne. Take it like the good girl you are for me after the way you treated me .”

He started thrusting properly then. slow, steady strokes that let you feel every thick inch sliding over your tongue and nudging your throat. 

His fist tightened in your hair, holding your head exactly where he wanted it, using your mouth with the careful control he always had… until he didn’t. His pace picked up, hips snapping a little harder, a little deeper. You gagged softly when he pushed too far, throat fluttering around him, but you didn’t pull away. You just let him use you, more slobber dripping down your chin in shiny, messy strings that ran over your neck and dripped onto your chest, making your skin slick and shiny.

Neteyam’s breathing grew heavier above you, ragged and uneven. His tail lashed sharply behind him, ears pinned flat with pleasure. Those golden eyes stayed locked on your face the whole time—watching the way your lips stretched wide around his cock, watching the tears cling to your lashes, watching how eagerly you drooled for him after making him suffer for thirty days.

“Look at you,” he panted, voice thick and wrecked, hips rolling deeper. “So fucking good to me. Taking my cock so pretty.” He groaned low, hips snapping harder now, the wet, obscene sounds of your mouth and throat filling the quiet kelku. “And now here you are.”

You whimpered around his cock, the sound making his thighs tense under your hands. The ache between your own legs was getting unbearable, thighs pressing together tight as you knelt there on the furs, letting him fuck your mouth deeper, faster, wetter. 

Your hands came up to rest on his strong thighs, fingers digging in just a little, not pushing him away but holding on while he used your throat.

He kept going like that for a long minute, lost in it, hips rolling with that steady, claiming rhythm until your chin was completely slick and shiny, thick strings of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his cock every time he pulled back even an inch.

When he finally pulled out, you were gasping hard, chest heaving, lips puffy and glistening with spit. Long, messy strings of saliva still connected your mouth to the head of his cock, breaking slowly and dripping down as he looked down at you with dark, satisfied eyes, chest rising fast.

Neteyam didn’t give you time to catch your breath.

Neteyam grabbed you under your thighs, his big hands sliding down to grip the soft flesh as he lifted you like you weighed nothing at all. Your legs dangled for half a second before you instinctively wrapped them tight around his waist, ankles locking behind his back. 

He lined himself up, the thick head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance, still messy from your spit. Then he pushed in with one hard thrust.

You cried out, the sound loud and broken in the quiet kelku as he stretched you open all at once. Your walls fluttered around him, trying to adjust, but he was already so deep, hips flush against yours while he held you suspended in the air.

Neteyam groaned low against your neck, the sound vibrating through your skin as he buried his face there for a moment, breathing you in. 

Then his hips snapped up into you. The slap of skin meeting skin echoed through the small space, wet and loud, each lustful thrust lifting you slightly in his arms before pulling you back down onto his cock.

“Missed you” he growled right against your ear, voice dark and strained, each word punctuated by a deep upward thrust. “Missed this”

Your nails dug hard into his shoulders, leaving little crescent marks as moans spilled out of you uncontrollably. 

His hips rolling up with strokes that had your whole body bouncing in his hold. Every thrust was so deep that your toes curled tight, thighs trembling around his waist. You were already close, way too sensitive after the long month of wanting and never getting, your body wound so tight it didn’t take much.

He felt it. He always did. He can read every little flutter and clench like it was written on your skin.

“Come on,” he grunted, pace starting to falter as he chased his own release, hips snapping harder. “Cum for me.”

You shattered with a broken moan, back arching in his arms as your orgasm crashed through you. Your walls clenched tight around him, pulsing and fluttering, pulling him even deeper. Neteyam followed right after with a low, guttural groan, burying himself as deep as he could go and spilling hot inside you. You felt every thick pulse, every rope of cum flooding you, his hips jerking through it as he filled you up until it started leaking out around where you were joined, dripping down his thighs and yours.

But he still wasn’t done.

He stayed buried inside you, strong arms holding you securely as he carried you the few short steps to the sleeping mats. Your legs stayed wrapped around him, body limp and trembling in his hold. He lowered you down onto your back on the soft furs without ever pulling out, the movement making his cock shift deeper for a second and pulling a soft whimper from your throat.

The second your back hit the furs he started moving again—slower this time, but just as deep. Long, lazy rolls of his hips that dragged his cock along every sensitive spot inside you, pushing his cum even deeper with every stroke. 

He looked down at you with those dark, satisfied golden eyes, braids falling around his face like a curtain, sweat glistening on his chest and shoulders in the soft glow.

“Neteyam…” you breathed, voice completely wrecked, legs trembling around him.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead gently to yours, one more slow, possessive thrust making you gasp as it pushed his cum deeper. “One more, yawne,” he murmured, voice low and warm now, but still edged with that hunger. “Give me one more. I’ve waited too long not to feel you cum again.”

You whimpered, already feeling another orgasm building from the sweet overstimulation, your body so sensitive every drag of him felt like too much and not enough at the same time. 

His pace stayed steady and deep, rolling and grinding in that deliberate way that made your toes curl all over again. 

When you came it was softer this time, shakier, drawn out, your walls fluttering weakly around him as you gasped his name, fingers tangled tight in his braids.

Neteyam followed with a quiet groan, hips pressing tight against you as he spilled what was left inside you, the warmth spreading until it was leaking out around his cock and onto the furs beneath you.

Finally he stilled, cock still buried deep as he collapsed half on top of you, chest heaving against yours. 

He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, pressing slow, soft kisses along your jaw and down to your collarbone, his tail wrapping lazily around your thigh like he never wanted to let go.

“Missed you,” he murmured, voice softer now. “Even when you were being a little human, teasing me every single day.”

You laughed weakly, body sore. “Human!?”

He chuckled low, the sound vibrating through you as he nipped gently at your ear. “Yeah… but I won in the end.”

With a low, satisfied hum, Neteyam slowly pulled out. A thick gush of his cum followed immediately, warm and messy, spilling out of you and dripping down between your folds onto the furs below. You whimpered softly at the sudden emptiness, your body still fluttering from everything he’d given you.

Before you could even think about closing your legs, Neteyam’s hand moved between you. He wrapped his fingers around his half hard cock, still slick and glistening with both of you, and guided the head back to your entrance. He rubbed it slowly through the mess, coating himself in the warm mix of his cum and your slick, before pressing forward.

With one smooth, gentle push he slid back inside you, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt again. The wet sound it made was filthy in the quiet space. You gasped softly, oversensitive walls stretching around him once more, feeling every thick ridge as he filled you up all over again.

Neteyam let out a quiet groan, forehead dropping to your shoulder. He stayed there for a second, just enjoying the feeling of being back inside you, before he leaned in and pressed a slow, tender kiss to the curve of your shoulder, lips warm and lingering.

He gave one lazy roll of his hips, pushing his cum deeper, making sure none of it escaped this time. 

But you knew you were nowhere near done, because Neteyam started thrusting into your pussy again.

First time ever using the word “ good girl” after cringing everytime I see it and I don’t know how to see about it? How did u feel about it?

Based off the request!

[wolverinecore]

Spread those legs further boy😛

[vaniellea]

𓂃 ⭒neteyam can’t keep his hands off of you

Neytiri had noticed the changes in her son over the past weeks. 

Neteyam had always been reliable during hunts, steady at her side. Lately though, he slipped away more often, returning later than usual with his braids slightly out of place and a distant look in his eyes. 

Today he was meant to help her prepare the evening meal, yet he had not appeared. Worry nudged at her, quiet but persistent, so she set out along the familiar trails, calling his name softly at first.

The sounds reached her before the sight did — soft, intimate noises from the grove. Neytiri pushed through the leaves and stopped short.

Neteyam’s face was buried between your thighs, his hands holding you open as he worked with focused devotion. Your back arched slightly, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other tangled in the moss.

The moan broke from your lips as his tongue dragged hot and flat through your soaked folds. 

Neteyam had you laid out on the soft moss in the hidden grove, thighs spread wide around his head while he devoured your pussy with slow, hungry licks. 

His strong hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as his mouth worked you open, tongue sliding deep inside your dripping cunt before pulling back to swirl around your swollen clit.

He groaned against you, the low sound vibrating straight through your core. “Taste so good,” he murmured, barely lifting his mouth before diving back in, licking messy and greedy, lips sucking softly on your clit until your hips jerked against his face. 

His braids fell forward, brushing your thighs as he buried himself deeper, tongue fucking into you in steady strokes, drinking down every drop of your arousal with wet, obscene sounds.

Neytiri’s voice cut through the air, sharp with disbelief. “What is this?”

Neytiri stood at the edge of the grove, eyes wide with shock that quickly turned to anger. 

Neteyam froze above you, ears pinning flat. You scrambled to sit up, heart pounding as you quickly reached for your discarded loincloth with shaky hands. 

The fabric felt tangled and awkward in your rush, cheeks burning hot as you tried to tie it back into place.

Neteyam moved fast to help, his fingers steady despite everything, gently adjusting the ties at your hips and smoothing the cloth down your thighs so it sat properly. His touch was quick and careful in the middle of the panic.

“Mother—” he started, voice low.

“Go home,” Neytiri told you firmly, her tone leaving little room for argument, though it carried an undercurrent of concern rather than pure fury. “Now.”

You gathered yourself and slipped away, cheeks warm, the moment shattering around you. 

Before you passed Neytiri, you gave Neteyam a small pat on the back, soft and quick, meant to steady him before you disappeared down the path toward home.

Neytiri turned to Neteyam, reaching out to grab him firmly by the ear, the way she had when he was small and reckless.

“Does your father know about this?” she demanded, guiding him back toward the village with purposeful steps.

Neteyam winced slightly at the hold but answered evenly. “He does.”

When they got back, she decided that saying nothing to him was for the best 

The next evening the air around the cooking fire felt thick with unspoken things. Fish sizzled over the flames while Neytiri tended it with careful movements. 

You sat nearby, awkward under the weight of yesterday’s discovery, eyes flicking between the food and the ground. 

Neteyam sat across from his mother, trying to focus on the meal, but his gaze kept drifting to you.

He broke the eye contact between you and his mother by looking down at the fire, then quietly tapped his thigh against yours under the cover of the low table. The small contact brought a faint smile to your lips despite everything.

Neytiri noticed. Her posture stiffened just a touch. “Do you two need room?” she asked, voice calm but edged.

Neteyam looked at her sweetly, the way he always did when trying to ease tension. “What is the problem, Mother?”

“It is nothing,” she replied, turning the fish with a little more force than necessary.

He watched her for a moment, then asked gently, “Is it because of what you saw yesterday?”

Neytiri paused, then shook her head. “No. You are both adults now.”

Neteyam studied her expression, his own softening. “Is it because you did not know?”

Despite not saying anything, she gave a small nod, ears lowering slightly.

He exhaled quietly, a hint of fondness in his voice. “Even Father did not know at first… he found out the same way.”

Neytiri’s eyes widened a fraction… “ are you guys doing this everyd—“

Jake, who had been listening from nearby, rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “Yeah… let’s just say I’ve seen some things.”

then a reluctant laugh escaped her, short and surprised. The sound broke some of the awkwardness, easing the tightness around the fire. You felt your own shoulders relax, a quiet smile forming as the tension started to lift.

Neytiri couldn’t keep you guys apart from each other.

It got worse than before as the sneaking continued.

One afternoon, while your mother was out gathering herbs, you stayed behind to prepare fresh fish for the evening meal. soft light filtering through the woven walls of your home as you worked at the low table, knife moving steadily over the scales.

Neteyam slipped inside without a sound, his presence warm behind you before you even heard his footsteps. He stepped close, arms sliding around your waist, and pressed a slow kiss to the side of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, sending a small shiver down your spine.

“I like this look on you,” he murmured, voice low and fond, lips brushing your ear. “My mate, preparing food for her family… it suits you.”

You laughed softly, leaning back into him for a moment, the knife pausing in your hand. “Not too long, My mother will be back any minute so she will take all the attention”

But the laugh turned into something quieter when his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer. 

One thing led to another — his mouth on your neck again, your head tilting to give him more room, the fish forgotten on the table. Before you knew it, he had you on your back on the woven mats, your legs bent and folded behind your head as he sank deep inside you with one smooth thrust.

his cock filling you completely. Neteyam groaned low against your mouth, hips rolling in deep strokes that made your breath catch. “I’m almost there,” he whispered, voice rough and close, forehead pressed to yours. “Keep quiet, yawne.”

You tried — you really did — but soft moans slipped out anyway, your walls clenching around him with every thrust. “My mom is gonna be here soon,” you gasped between moans, the words broken and breathy as pleasure built fast and hot. “Neteyam—ah—she’ll be back any moment—”

He didn’t slow down, just fucked you deeper, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting filling the small home. His rut was starting to edge in, making his movements a little more urgent, his scent heavier, the base of his cock swelling slightly with each push. “Just a little longer,” he breathed against your lips, eyes half-lidded and dark. “You feel too good.”

The door flap rustled.

Your mother stepped in, basket of seasonings in hand, and dropped it with a sharp clatter. Spices and dried herbs scattered across the floor. “What is going on here!” she cried, voice rising in shock and anger. Her eyes widened at the sight — you on your back with your legs folded high, Neteyam still buried deep inside you, both of you frozen mid motion.

Neteyam pulled out quickly, shielding you as best he could while you scrambled to cover yourself, cheeks burning. Your mother’s face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and fury.

“How dare you do this in my home?” she snapped, stepping forward. “Neteyam, you are the future Olo’eyktan — is this how you show respect? And you—” she turned to you, voice trembling with worry, “—I raised you better than to let this happen when I could walk in at any moment.”

The argument lasted longer than you expected. Your mother paced, gesturing sharply. “Pregnancy is not a game. Your heats are approaching, and his rut is already starting — I can smell it on him. One slip and you will be carrying a child before either of you are ready. I do not want my daughter with child yet. The clan is still recovering. You both have responsibilities, training, duties. This rushing will only bring trouble.”

Neteyam listened quietly, ears low, offering soft apologies when she paused for breath. You sat beside him, mortified but unable to deny the warmth that still lingered between you.

Finally, as the tension eased just a fraction, your mother pointed toward the door. “Neteyam, Out. Both of you need to think about what you are risking.”

On his way out, she stopped Neteyam with a firm look. “It is not respectful to do such activities in my home, Neteyam. Not while I am expected back any moment.”

Neteyam bowed his head slightly, sincere. “I am sorry. It won’t happen again here.” He glanced back at you with a small, secret smile — warm and full of that quiet pining — before slipping out the door and running off toward the village paths.

Your mother watched him go, then turned to you with a long sigh, the anger softening into tired concern. The fish still waited on the table, half prepared, while the scattered seasonings lay forgotten on the floor. 

Lowk, I had to do a bit of research on ruts and stuff and it was pretty interesting, I’ve never written anything about this so I’m sorry … please tell me more about ruts and stuff, I would love to write something similar

Based off this request!

[neteyamthinker]

exes don’t fuck, yawntu.

pairings aged-up!neteyam x omatikaya!female reader

notes literally just heavy smut with a plot... p in v, oral (f and m receiving), kuru play, tsaheylu, angst with comfort

synopsis neteyam and you are exes... but neteyam refuses to be an ex.

word count 17.2k

————————

You contentedly sighed as you meticulously sorted through the day’s forage. Your fingers, used to years of handling rough fibers and sharp roots, moved with practiced ease, separating edible tubes from those meant for weaving while the smell of ferns, rich damp soil, and the faint, sweet perfume of blossoming epiphytes surrounded you.

You were smiling  to yourself as you breathed it in, a familiar comfort… Until you were not. The pleasurable smell is now marred with something familiar, something more potent, the smell your brain conjures whenever you reach your climax every time you touch yourself— if that is even possible. 

Then, a shadow fell over your work, tall and broad. Your shoulders tensed, a familiar prickle of annoyance rising before you even turned your head. You didn’t need to. The scent of him, that particular blend of wildness and something uniquely him, had announced his presence long before his physical form blocked the dappled light.

Neteyam. Your ex.

Or, rather, the man who refuses to be your ex. A sigh escaped your lips, a tiny puff of exasperation. It has been moons since you uttered the words ‘let’s stop this’ and not a single day had passed without his looming presence. To be fair, he did reply ‘I don’t want to’ to what you said and proceeded to act like you two never broke up.

“It’s late,” he rumbled, his voice a low thrum that vibrated through the air, the vibrations reaching your spine.

You rolled your eyes and gathered everything without the genteel and care you previously had. “It’s none of your business,” you said, standing up so you could walk away.

He reached out, his large hand gently taking the basket from your grasp. His fingers brushed yours, a lingering touch that felt both accidental and deliberate.

You pulled your hand back, a sharp tug. “Do not touch me!” you said in a hiss, your teeth gritted as your sharp eyes snapped at him.

A slow smile spread across his face, a possessive curve that always made your stomach clench, a mixture of annoyance and a traitorous warmth. “So cranky, my baby,” he said, voice filled with humor.

You hissed as you walked away, a deliberate swish of your hips, ignoring the way he easily kept pace beside you. “Go away, you!”

Now, a huge grin cut through his lips. “Such a harsh greeting for your man–”

You spun to face him again. “You are not my man,” you snapped, your voice tight as you quickened your stride.

He stepped in front of you, blocking your path. His eyes, a golden pool, held a familiar glint of amusement. He stood taller, broader, and more muscled than most Na’vi, a warrior's physique honed by countless hunts and patrols. His queue, thick and braided, hung over his back.

“Not your man, then what am I?” He tilted his head, a playful challenge in his expression.

“My ex,” you bit out, trying to walk past him, though your heart hammered against your ribs. The word felt like a brand, raw and painful.

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. “I’m pretty sure you won’t let your ex fuck you on your hands and knees last night, yawntu…”

Your face flushed as you glared at him. “That was a mistake.”

“Was it?” His voice was a whisper now, close to your ear. His breath, warm and smelling of mint, feathered against your cheek. “Felt so good to me.” His hand, large and calloused, hovered over your waist, caressing softly.

You swatted his hand away. “Stop it, Neteyam. I’m serious!” You gripped a cluster of medicinal leaves nearby, pulling them harder than necessary, just pretending to do anything.

He moved in front of you, blocking your path again. His smile was infuriatingly charming, the kind that made your breath catch even when you despised him. “I finished my patrol early. Thought I’d keep you company.”

“I don’t need company.” You tried to step around him, but he mirrored your movement, a wall of muscle and stubbornness. You stopped abruptly, facing him. "What do you want, Neteyam?" Your voice was low, tight with frustration.

He stopped too, his height eclipsing you, casting a long shadow. He held your basket loosely, his muscles flexing under his dark skin. "Just wanted to see you." His eyes held yours, unblinking, a silent challenge.

"You see me every day," you said, your voice rising slightly. "You follow me. You wait for me. You act like–"

"Like what?" he interrupted, taking a step closer. The air between you crackled.

"Like we're still together!" The words burst out, a frustrated whisper. You glanced around, afraid anyone nearby might hear.

His smile widened, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes. "Are we not?"

You threw your hands up in exasperation. "We broke up! Moons ago! I told you, I want to move on. Find someone I can actually have a future with, and not–" You cut yourself off, the last word catching in your throat.

He tilted his head, his expression softening, a dangerous tenderness entering his gaze. "Not just what, yawntu?" His voice dropped, a silken caress. "Not just love you with every fiber of his being?"

"Don't," you warned, taking a step back. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" He took another step forward, closing the distance you tried to create. "Love you?"

"Manipulate me," you corrected, your voice trembling slightly. "You know what I mean." You turned, resuming your walk back to Hometree, the weight of his presence still a heavy cloak around you.

The next day, as you were helping your mother weave a new sleeping mat, you spotted a small, intricately carved wooden ikran on your workbench. Its wings spread as if in mid-flight, its eyes fashioned from polished river stones. You recognized the craftsmanship immediately. Neteyam had carved it. He had always been good with his hands, creating small, beautiful things from wood and bone.

Your mother, her nimble fingers working the fibers, glanced at it. “A gift.”

“An annoyance,” you corrected, picking it up. It was smooth, warm from his touch. You wanted to throw it, to smash it, but instead, you simply placed it carefully on a high shelf, out of immediate sight, but not out of mind.

Later, while you were collecting water from the nearby river, he was there again. He stood talking to a hunter, his voice low and his posture straight. But his eyes, you felt them on you, a constant, unwavering presence. As you bent to fill your gourds, a sudden, playful splash of water hit your cheek.

You looked up, glaring. He’s now bent by the river, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, snatching a water gourd.

“Careful,” he said, his voice laced with feigned concern. “You almost fell in.”

“I’m perfectly capable of getting water without your help.” You wiped the water from your face, annoyance bubbling.

“Just making sure.” He leaned, submerging the water gourd he’s holding to fill it with water, his gaze lingering on your face. “You look… parched.”

You ignored him, filling your gourds, the weight of his stare heavy on you. When you turned to leave, he stood up, keeping pace with you, and taking the gourds you’re holding.

“Move, Neteyam.”

“Not until you talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“There’s everything to say.” He took a step closer, his height intimidating. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything. I’m living my life.”

“Without me?” He scoffed. You walked past him without a word and he followed you, his long strides easily matching yours. “You think I’ll just let you go?”

“You have no choice.”

He tilted his head at what you said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He seemed to be holding his words back and you rolled your eyes, walking past him, your shoulders shoving his arm.

The next few weeks were a blur of Neteyam's relentless pursuit. He'd appear beside you during your morning foraging before he leaves for patrol, his large hand brushing against yours as he passes a water skin. During the evening meals, you'd feel his gaze on you from across the communal fire, a steady, unwavering heat. He’d bring you small gifts… a perfectly carved wooden animal, a rare iridescent feather, a cluster of sweet berries he’d found deep in the forest… Always with that infuriatingly innocent smile.

One afternoon, you sat by the weaving looms, your fingers deftly interlacing fibers when one of the hunters, Raynuk, approached, his expression open and friendly.

He began with calling your name, his voice soft, "I was wondering if you would consider joining me forage tomorrow. My family needs more feather blade seed, and you know the forest paths better than anyone."

You smiled, a genuine smile that hadn't graced your lips often lately. "I would like that, Raynuk. I know a good abundant site."

Before Raynuk could respond, a shadow fell over you both. Neteyam stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable.

"Raynuk," Neteyam's voice was a low growl, "I need you for a patrol of the northern ridge tomorrow. First light."

Raynuk’s brow furrowed. "But, Neteyam, I-I already have plans—"

"This is an urgent matter," Neteyam cut him off, his golden eyes fixed on Raynuk with an intensity that brooked no argument. "The palulukan tracks were fresh this morning. It requires our best hunters." He paused, then added, "And you, Raynuk, are one of our best." The words were a thinly veiled threat.

Raynuk’s shoulders slumped. He glanced at you, a silent apology in his eyes. "Of course, Neteyam. I will be ready." He nodded curtly at you, then turned and walked away, his shoulders stiff.

You glared at Neteyam, your weaving forgotten. "You did that on purpose!"

He shrugged, a nonchalant tilt of his head. "Just fulfilling my duties as a warrior. The clan's safety comes first." His gaze met yours, a triumphant glint in his eyes. "You understand, don't you, yawntu?"

You snatched up your unfinished weaving, your fingers trembling with rage. "You are insufferable!" You stalked away, leaving him standing there, a smirk playing on his lips.

The cycle continued. Every time a young warrior or hunter showed even a flicker of interest, Neteyam would materialize, his presence a silent wall, his words a polite but firm dismissal. He’d find a sudden, urgent task for them, a distant patrol or a difficult hunt. Your potential suitors, sensing the unspoken challenge, would retreat, leaving you alone with Neteyam’s smug satisfaction.

Truthfully, you want to be peeved by it. You want to genuinely be annoyed at him and lash out on him, but you can’t even bring yourself to act like it because Neteyam can be really silly when he’s too determined that you find his antics funny instead of infuriating. Besides… Your resolve is too weak. Especially when it comes to him.

You moaned, your hand squeezing the sap to extract its lather, the water’s warmth seemed to loosen the tight cords of the muscle on your upper back, its fall a delicious weight cascading down your unbraided hair. You lathered the sap on your skin, bending down to work on your thighs but your relaxation was quickly replaced with hyper vigilance when you heard a rustle nearby.

You craned your neck, looking at where you last heard movements, expecting a direhorse or a hexapede. Instead, Neteyam emerged from the foliage, his loincloth clinging to his wet skin, his queue dripping water. He had clearly been swimming, perhaps in the waters far from here. His golden eyes, bright and alert, fixed on you.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, his voice smooth as the stream water. He walked towards you, his movements fluid and powerful as a playful glint danced in his golden orbs.

You sighed. “Are you following me?”

He stopped a few feet away, his gaze lingering on your bare chest before it travelled down your legs that were partially submerged in the water. “Just enjoying the forest. Is that forbidden now?”

You covered your chest and ought to turn your back, but he’ll see your ass if you do! You glared at him, “Then move along. Someone is bathing here as you can see… And turn around,” you ordered in a sassy voice.

He snickered. “I’ve seen it all… Licked it all,” he said, and even though you’re not looking, you can tell that he’s smirking.

You groaned as your face heated up. You spun around so you could throw the sap you’re holding directly at him but he merely moved his head to the side and evaded it effortlessly. “You are so crass!”

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound. He stepped into the stream and your breathing hitched. “But did I lie? Baby, my mouth knows every crevice of your pussy better than I know the patterns on my own face—”

“Neteyam!” You shrieked, your face and chest already burning up from embarrassment. He was right, no lie there at all, but must he really say it that shamelessly?!

He moved closer and you threw another sap which he, once again, evaded without any difficulty. The laugh he let out probably cost his muscles more. You delivered several splashes of water his way so that he’d stop but it only propelled him to get to you faster, his iron-like arms wrapping around your waist.

You shrieked and squirmed in his arms, you’re wet and slippery and it ought to give him a hard time but one of his large hands clamped around one of your thighs and wrapped it around him. Your arms found purchase on his broad shoulders, scared you’d fall. One of his hands pushed you further into him, groaning when he felt your soft breasts pressing against his chest.

His hands settled on your hips, large and possessive, pulling you gently against his front. His hard cock, already springing to life, pressed against your belly. Your breathing hitched, your fingers gripping his biceps.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Making sure no one else sees you?” he murmured innocently, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. His tongue flicked out, tasting the water and your skin. He began to kiss your neck, slow and deliberate, his hands tracing the curve of your hips, then sliding lower, cupping your bottom.

You sighed softly. “Handing me my clothes would have been the best way to do so…” And yet, you craned your neck, giving him better access to it.

He chuckled as he lifted his head so he could kiss you. “Or I could cover you with my body,” he whispered against your lips before capturing them into another searing kiss.

You tightened your arms around his shoulders and he lowered his head even further, deepening his kiss as if to answer your eagerness. He scooped you into his arms, your other leg instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried you into the bank, and then to the undergrowth, towards a small, secluded clearing.

He laid you down gently on a bed of soft moss, his body hovering over yours. The weight of him, familiar and comforting, pressed you into the moss. His golden eyes, usually so serious, now held a mischievous glint as they wandered on your body with appreciation and lust.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire as before lowering his head to suck a pebble tip into his mouth with a groan. He lifted his head and stared into your eyes, “See how we always come back to each other?“

You rolled your eyes, a small huff escaping your lips. “I’m only here because you carried me here, you brute.”

He grinned, a flash of white teeth in the dim light. “Details.”

His fingers caressed its way up from your waist to your breasts, already swollen and sensitive under his gaze. He watched you, his eyes devouring every inch, a slow, possessive hunger in their depths. A shiver ran through you, a mix of apprehension and undeniable arousal, as you watched him lick his lips.

He lowered his head, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of your collarbone, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. You arched your back, a soft moan escaping your lips. His hands, large and calloused, moved to your hips. His touch was both gentle and demanding, a tantalizing dance of power and surrender.

His lips found your nipple, sucking gently, a wet, warm sensation that made your toes curl. You gasped, your fingers tangling in his long braids, pulling him closer, urging him on. He moved from one breast to the other, suckling more flesh into his mouth. Your body was alive, every nerve ending humming with anticipation.

He moved lower, his tongue tracing a fiery path down your stomach, stopping just above your mound. You trembled, your breath catching in your throat. His golden eyes met yours, a silent question passing between you. You nodded, a desperate, silent plea for him to continue.

His fingers touched your silky folds, parting them gently. The air, cool against your heated flesh, made you shiver. He dipped his head, his tongue flicking out, tasting you. A gasp tore from your throat, a wave of intense pleasure washing over you. His tongue was a hot, wet brand, swirling around your clitoris, teasing and tormenting. You bucked against him, your hips lifting, desperate for more.

He groaned, a deep sound of pleasure. His fingers found their way inside you, two of them, stretching you, exploring your wet depths. You were slick, already so ready for him. His cock, thick and hard, is pulsing with anticipation. He could scarcely wait to be inside you again. 

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

He moved his fingers in and out, a slow, deliberate rhythm, while his tongue continued its exquisite torture on your clit. You were writhing beneath him, lost in a haze of sensation. The scent of sex, musky and sweet, filled the air around you.

“Neteyam,” you whimpered, a plea, a demand.

He pulled his fingers out, and you cried out in protest. But then, he shifted, positioning himself between your legs. His dark eyes watched you as his large hand clamped around the underside of your knees, spreading you impossibly wider. His cock, a thick, throbbing column of flesh, pressed against your entrance.

He pushed, slowly, deliberately. You gasped as his head breached your opening, stretching you, filling you, and with a powerful thrust, he plunged fully inside you. A moan ripped from your throat, a mix of pain and exquisite pleasure. You were stretched to your limit, filled to overflowing. His cock filled you completely. It’s been weeks since the last time that the stretch felt both new and familiar, a deep, satisfying ache.

He began to move, a slow, rhythmic thrusting that quickly gained momentum. His hips slammed against yours, a primal beat that resonated through the jungle. The sound of your bodies meeting, a wet, slapping sound, filled the air. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he immediately lowered himself down, so you could pull him close. He captured your lips in an open-mouthed kiss and you moaned into his mouth. When he angled his head to kiss your neck, you buried your face in his shoulder, your teeth clamping down on it.

He whispered your name, again and again, his voice hoarse with exertion. Each thrust was deeper, harder, more insistent. You were lost in the rhythm, your mind emptying of everything but the sensation of him inside you, filling you, claiming you. Your clit, still sensitive from his earlier ministrations, was now being stimulated by the friction of his movements, rubbing against his pubic bone.

You felt the tension building within you, a coil tightening in your belly. Your body began to convulse, a series of exquisite spasms that wracked your frame. You cried out, your orgasm tearing through you, raw and intense.

He groaned, his body tensing, his thrusts quickening, deepening. With a final, powerful surge, he emptied himself deep inside you, a hot, pulsing gush that filled you to overflowing. He collapsed on top of you, his heavy weight pinning you to the mossy ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

You mewled, kissing the bite you left on his shoulder to ease him from the pain but he probably didn’t even feel it because he merely smiled and kissed your cheek, thinking you were being sweet.

“I bit you,“ you said. “Sorry.” 

He lifted his head a little, craning his head to see. He smirked before he turned to you with a mischievous grin. “I guess I got myself marked,“ he said. 

“Shut up. I just needed something to clamp my teeth on,” you countered.

He chuckled, cupping your jaw and pressing a hard kiss on your lips. “Was it that good, baby?“

You groaned, your cheeks heating up, you pushed against his chest, your hips bucking against him. “Get off me,“ you ordered but your voice lacked its usual fire.

His amusement never faltered though, even teasing you by pulling your hips toward him as he rose, making you straddle him. He kissed you, “Take me back…” he whispered against your lips. “This break up is not funny.”

You reared your head back, your eyes fixed on his lips. “I don’t know…”

He tilted his head and kissed you, his arm wrapped around you and pulled you to him until your breasts were pressed tightly against his chest. “Do you understand I’m never going to let you go?” he asked.

You huffed a mocking laugh. “You’ll have to… Eventually,” you said in a hoarse voice.

His jaw clenched and you can feel the heat of his intense stare even if your eyes are fixed somewhere else. “What do you mean?“

You rolled your eyes and grinded your hips against him, your tender clit rubbing against the hard planes of his pelvis. You moaned, your walls stretched and filled to the brim, squeezed around him involuntarily and he groaned, holding your hips in place but you only lifted your hips so you could get the fiction you're craving.

You groaned when he wouldn't cooperate, still trying to pull you down his lap. “Will you fuck me or not?” you asked, looking into his eyes now.

There was a hard look on his eyes and his lips were in a thin line as he stared at you, as if he’s weighing things down, and then he pulled you by the nape of your neck and kissed you hard. His large hand splayed behind your thigh and pulled it around him before laying you down on the ground again. He merely parted your legs a little wider and started delivering a series of punishing thrusts that stole your very breath.

Your hand squeezed his bicep while the other wrapped around his shoulders. You don’t even know if it's still possible for him to pick up his pace, but his thrusts did come harder and more urgent, as if punishing you for whatever but it wasn’t a punishment at all, for it feels so good. Your body responded in kind, your hips bucking against his, your moans growing louder, more desperate.

You felt the familiar tightening in your core, the building pressure, the inevitable climax approaching. You cried out, your voice raw with pleasure, as another wave of ecstasy washed over you, even more powerful than the first. Your body convulsed around his cock, milking him, drawing out his own pleasure. He groaned, a guttural sound, his body tensing, then he too cried out, his seed spilling deep inside you again, hot and potent.

His breath came in ragged gasps, fanning the side of your face before he buried his own in your neck, his lips pressing a hard kiss against your soft skin. “I love you so much…” he breathed as he peppered your neck with kisses that trail its way up to your jaw and cheek.

You bit your tongue and when he lifted his head to look at you, you buried your face on the crook of his neck to hide from him instead. He chuckled and cradled your head, his hand running through your unbraided hair which reminds you that you’re going to see Kiri tonight. She promised to braid your hair.

You startled when you remembered. “I have to see Kiri tonight. She’s going to braid my hair,” you said, pushing against his chest.

He groaned but pushed himself up anyway, kneeling between your legs and pulling his cock out of you with a squelching sound. You mewled at his absence, your walls clenching at nothing as you felt warm wetness gush out of you. His hand were on you right away, scooping his cum and pushing what he could back inside you. Your hips bucked and you moaned, both from the sensitivity and the pleasure of it. He watched you with dark eyes, lathering some of the wetness over your soft and silky folds before bringing his hand up close to your mouth.

You parted your lips to bring your fingers into his mouth, sucking his fingers clean with a hum. Your tail did a happy wag behind you, something it usually does when you’re eating what you like. Your eyes peered up at him and the look on your face brought heat to his face that for a moment, he felt like a teenage boy again.

He grabbed your clothes and helped tie your loincloth around your tail. He runs his fingers through your hair as you fix your top over your chest. He fixed himself as well, and in the dimmed light, you could see how spent he looked despite the shit-eating grin he had on his lips and you wondered if you looked as exhausted because you are.

The jungle was loud with the symphony of night creatures as you walked beside Neteyam. The path, worn smooth by generations of Omatikaya feet, offered a familiar comfort under your own. He walked with that easy, predatory grace, his broad shoulders cutting through the humid air.

“Wait here,” you said, your voice flat, devoid of the tremor that still shook your insides. The hometree’s immense roots loomed ahead, a dark, living fortress against the sky. “Just for a few minutes. I’ll go in first.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. His golden eyes, usually so serious, crinkled at the corners, a flash of amusement sparking within them. He found your little charade entertaining. Your insistence on maintaining the illusion that you two broke up, even when the very smell coming from you screamed of him. He scented of you too, a potent blend of jasmine and forest floor, the unique aroma of your skin. Anyone with a working nose would know.

You turned away, the rustle of your feet soft against the forest’s quiet. You didn’t need to look back to know he was still smiling, a silent, knowing grin. A moment later, you heard the deeper tones of young male voices, approaching Neteyam. You glanced over your shoulder, unable to resist. Three young hunters, their faces earnest, now stood before him. They spoke of a patrol, a minor disturbance in the southern territories. Neteyam, the ever-serious, commanding warrior, simply nodded, his smile still fixed on his face.

He waved a dismissive hand, a gesture of "all is well," the cheerfulness radiating from him so out of place that even the young warriors exchanged bewildered glances. They probably thought he had lost his mind. None of them knew they had you to thank. Another time, if Neteyam weren’t properly sated, he would have gotten so mad, but because he had his fill of you, nothing could possibly ruin his mood.

You pushed through the hanging vines and stepped into the familiar warmth of the Sully family kelku. The air inside smelled woven reeds and the faint, sweet scent of Kiri’s herbal infusions. Tuk saw your loose hair and jumped in joy, knowing she could help braid and design your hair. Now, Kiri sat cross-legged on a mat, her deft fingers already weaving strands of your hair into intricate braids. Tuk, eight seasons old now, sat nearby, meticulously arranging a pile of polished river beads she means to put on your hair.

She held up a set of deep purple ones. “This one is really good, Y/N. You love this color, I think. And if it hits the light, it shines. See?“ she grinned at you and you smiled back.

“It’s beautiful, Tuk-tuk, I think I do like that,“ you agreed.

Suddenly, the kelku entrance rustled. Neteyam strode in, his presence filling the space. His gaze immediately found yours, a possessive warmth in his golden eyes. Tuk turned to him, her head tipping up as her nose twitched in the air. She seemed to follow a trail in the air and her gaze locked with yours when it connected to you.

“You smell like Neteyam,” Tuk said, her small nose twitching as she looked up at you, her eyes wide with innocent curiosity. 

A muffled snort came from the corner where Lo’ak sat, meticulously polishing his rifle, the metallic gleam catching the dim light. Spider, perched on a woven stool next to him, erupted in a burst of laughter as they both watched Neteyam move with purpose, heading for the waterskins hanging from a sturdy root.

“Bro, is that a bite mark on your shoulder?” Lo’ak pointed, his voice laced with mock concern, his eyes twinkling.

Neteyam took a long, slow drink from the waterskin, his throat working. He lowered it, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and simply nodded.

Spider’s laughter intensified. “A wild wiperwolf got to you, huh? Left hickeys, too?”

Kiri, her fingers still working diligently through your hair, tugged subtly, a silent signal. “I thought you two broke up?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You sighed, a weary exhalation. “Yeah,” you whispered back, the word tasting like ashes in your mouth. You thought that too. You truly did.

The days that followed were a relentless campaign. He appeared everywhere. When you were foraging, he’d be there, a silent shadow, offering a helping hand with a heavy basket or pointing out a particularly fruitful patch of berries. When you were training, he’d be on the periphery, his eyes following your every move. During communal meals, he’d subtly maneuver to sit near you, his knee occasionally brushing yours under the table.

He sabotaged every attempt you made to move on. Raynuk would try to engage you in conversation, his voice a hopeful murmur, only for Neteyam to materialize, a silent, imposing figure, his golden eyes fixed on Raynuk with an intensity that bordered on menace.

One evening, as Raynuk was attempting to walk you back to your family’s kelku, Neteyam appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, holding a freshly caught fish, still wriggling.

“I caught this for your mother,” he said, his voice loud, cutting through Raynuk’s hesitant words. “She said she wanted something fresh for stew.” He looked at Raynuk, his gaze cold. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Raynuk, visibly uncomfortable, stammered a quick farewell and retreated, his shoulders slumping. Your sharp eyes followed him. You don’t know if you should be annoyed or what, but none of these men knew how to stand up to this man.

You turned on Neteyam, your eyes blazing. “What was that?”

He shrugged, offering you the fish. “Just being helpful.”

You slapped his hand away. “You did that on purpose!”

“Did what?” He feigned innocence, though a smug glint in his eyes betrayed him. “You’re ruining everything!”

“Am I?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “Or am I just reminding you of who you belong to?”

You turned away, your heart pounding with a mixture of anger and something else, something dangerous and undeniable. He was a constant, persistent ache, a wound that refused to heal.

“I’m leaving with a hunting party,” he said one day, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. “We’ll be gone for two weeks. Deep into the Lowlands.”

You tried to keep your face impassive, to project an air of indifference. You wanted to tell him you didn't care, that his departures meant nothing to you anymore but it did. You’ve always sent him off, always prayed for his safety. “Take... care.” you said in a small voice.

He tilted his head, his hand cupping your neck, his thumb on your jaw. “I’ll go home to you. Whole, I promise,” he chuckled and you bit your lip to stifle a smile.

“You better,” you said in a hoarse voice and he groaned, bending at the waist to kiss you.

You woke up early the next day, before light, thinking of sending him off and you did find yourself walking up to the highest branches of the hometree to where the ikran roost, only to be stopped at the sight of a familiar huntress. Lenara. The name landed like a stone in your gut. A cold, heavy lump formed in your throat, choking off any casual word you might have managed. She’s the daughter of Jake’s second-in-command. The one the council whispered about, the one they considered suitable.

You took a step back and with a heavy feet, walked away from there. You found yourself on a higher branch, away from prying eyes,  trying to force the image of Lenara out of your mind. Moons ago, the whispers had begun, soft at first, then growing louder. Neteyam, the son of Toruk Makto, destined to lead, his future intertwined with the clan’s. He was in line to be Olo’eyktan someday. His life wasn’t his to decide. They needed to find a mate for him, a strong, capable partner to stand by his side, to bear his children, to lead with him. Lenara fit the description perfectly. A huntress of renown, she had led many successful hunts, her prowess in the forest undeniable.

You had accepted it then. That’s why you broke up with him, why you refused to take him back. You knew him. He was dutiful to a fault. He would follow his parents, the council, the ancient traditions. You would only get hurt if, one day, he came to you with that solemn, resigned look in his eyes and told you he had to choose another. You were doing both of you a favor by letting go. It was never going to be you. Two years you had spent together, and not once had he asked you to be his mate. It was clear. You understood. You were unsuitable. A gatherer, from a long line of weavers. He needed someone strong, someone suited to the public eye, to the demanding role of leadership. All you provided was physical pleasure, a fleeting comfort in the shadows of the forest.

“You didn’t come to see me good bye,” a deep voice spoke behind you and you startled.

You looked over your shoulder and saw Neteyam in his full warrior gear, the stones on the cummerbund you’ve woven for him shining in the dimmed light. He walked nearer and you lower lip tugged downward. You wanted to hug him, cry to him about your woes, hold him, hold him, hold him. But you can’t. Distance yourself, that’s what you must do.

“Do I need to?“ you asked.

He raised a brow at your sharp tone but he ignored it, moving closer until he could hold you. “Yeah. Always,“ he breathed the scent of your hair. “For the sake of your warrior, he must receive a sweet kiss from his woman. He’d ask for something else, if only his woman weren’t so grumpy in the morning.”

He bent to nuzzle his nose along the line of your neck, leaving soft kisses. You let him and you indulged yourself, stubborn and disobedient. You wouldn’t even listen to your own words.

“Kiss,“ he mumbled and you gave him your lips, reprimanding yourself at the same time. He claimed them, holding your jaw in place and kissing you deeply. You kissed back with the same fervor and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer as his tongue plundered your mouth and his lips warred with yours for dominance.

When he broke the kiss, his eyes searched for yours in the dim light. You know that look and you bit your lip. His hand slid down your thigh, pushing your loincloth aside. His fingers found your pussy, grunting when he found your folds already wet and silky with desire. He circled your clit with his thumb, then plunged two fingers deep inside you.

You gasped, your hips arching, your body responding instantly to his touch. He began to move his fingers, slow and deliberate, stretching you, filling you. You leaned your head back against the bark, your eyes closing as pleasure rippled through you. You felt him kneel and in a moment, his lips found the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You gasped, realizing his intent. He licked a warm, wet trail, then opened his mouth, taking your clit between his lips.

A jolt of pure ecstasy shot through you. You cried out, your body trembling, as his tongue began its rhythmic dance, sucking, licking, teasing. His fingers continued to plunge inside you, while his mouth worked magic on your clit. The sensations were overwhelming, a delicious torture.

You moaned, your hands gripping his hair, pulling him closer. He was relentless, his tongue a masterful instrument of pleasure, his fingers pushing deeper, faster. You felt yourself unraveling, your body shaking uncontrollably.

“Neteyam!” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper.

He continued, his mouth never leaving your clit, until you convulsed, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washing over you. You screamed, your body arching, your muscles contracting around his fingers. He swallowed the pearls of cum the dripped out of you, then continued to lick what comes out, savoring your climax.

You were breathless, spent, your body trembling. He pulled his mouth away, his hands holding you steady as he stood up to his full height. You shuddered as you looked up, as though you were reminded only now of how massive he is compared to you. You pressed a hand against his muscled abdomen when he kissed you, tasting yourself in him as you moved your hand down his loincloth, moving past its frontage and cupping his hardened cock.

He groaned against your lips and you answered with a moan when his hand grabbed the back of your thigh and lifted it up to wrap it around his waist. Meanwhile, you moved his loincloth aside to bring his cock out, pumping up and down its magnificent length as he positioned himself between your thighs. He pushed into you, slow and deliberate, filling you completely. 

“Fuck, baby...“ he moaned, pushing your hips further toward him. 

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. He began to thrust, slow and deep, his hips rocking against yours. The bioluminescence around you reflected in his golden eyes, dark with desire as they watched multiple emotions dance around your face.

“Good?“ he asked and you nodded frantically. He stopped thrusting, “Words.“

“So good...” you breathed and he angled your thigh higher, moving faster, his body a powerful engine, driving into you. You tried to match his rhythm, your hips rising to meet his, your hands gripping his broad shoulders.

He groaned, pressing his forehead against yours, his face contorting with pleasure as he worked through the tight grip of your flesh around him. His head lowered and flicked the beads covering your bouncing breasts to bring one of it into the warmth of his mouth. You bit your lip when he suckled them earnestly, his cheeks hollowed as he tried to suck more flesh into his mouth. The pleasure built, a fierce, insistent thrum.

You cried out, your body convulsing around him, milking him. He roared, a guttural sound of pure satisfaction, and emptied himself inside you, his seed hot and thick, filling you with his warmth. You moaned as he continued kissing your soft skin, both your bodies trembling. The lingering scent of sex hung heavy in the air, a testament to the undeniable pull between you. You knew this was wrong, but in the moment, as his warmth enveloped you, it felt undeniably right.

He pressed his lips against your cheek as he slowly pulled out, watching your walls embrace his cock until it clenched at nothing, followed by thick strings of his come trickling down your thighs which he quickly gathered in his fingers and pushed back inside you.

You mewled. “It would drip anyway...“ 

He nuzzled his nose against your cheek. “Still need to make sure it all goes inside you,” he whispered, lathering the wetness over your folds and then bringing his hands to his cock so he could lather himself with it, too.

You licked your lip, fighting the urge to groan because you want to touch him and give him back what he’s given you but the sun is almost rising. He carefully put your thigh down, fixing your loincloth and angling his head to kiss your neck. He stood taller and tucked himself back in his loincloth. 

His hand caressed your waist, squeezing gently before it trailed up to your breast. He kneaded both of them. “Sorry, best friends, we’re quick today,“ he told them, lowering his head to give both pebbled tips a quick suck.

You huffed. “You’re silly,“ your lips curled into a tired smile.

He kissed your forehead, his hand now snaking behind you, encircling an arm to hug you. “Don’t silly me, beautiful. I’m going to miss you so damn much,“ he said, emphasizing the last words, staring into your eyes.

You tore your gaze away, looking at his lips instead. “It’s just two weeks...”

“Still two weeks away from you,” he replied, his free hand now fixing your top. “I made a mess of you...”

You peered up at him, biting your lip. “It’s alright,” you mumbled.

He tilted his head. “You’ll wear me the whole day then?” he teased, his hand palming your slick inner thigh.

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. He smiled back, kissing your smiling lips. A horn was blown, a signal for the hunters to convene. Your smile faded a little as you inhaled, he saw it and smiled a reassuring smile. “I’ll come home to you,“ he promised, like he always had, finding your hand.

You two walked hand in hand to the roost, but you pulled your hand away once you’re already there.

Neteyam grinned, shaking his head at this pretense. You gave him a sharp look that could be translated into ‘take care and don’t be stupid out there’. You turned your back on him, your tail flicking lasciviously. He licked his lips wet and reached for it, making you squeak and laugh, you’d slap his hand away if only Lenara had not appeared, her eyes already scrutinizing when it landed on you.

Your smile faltered a little, but you kept your chin lifted, and when you saw how her nose twitched after smelling Neteyam on you, you smiled at how her face had turned deep purple. You looked at Neteyam, “Lenara’s probably sent to fetch you. I’ll go,” you said in a hoarse voice, turning your back on them.

You looked over your shoulder when you were far enough and saw Neteyam still watching your back retreat even as Lenara talked to him. It was crazy how you felt so confident then, while the next two weeks felt like an eternity. Each sunrise felt colder, each sunset more desolate. The jungle, once vibrant and loud, now seemed muted, its sounds echoing your own emptiness. You were wondering what he’s up to… If Lenara’s working her way into his skin, as was intended.

When the news of their successful hunt reached the hometree, a strange mix of relief and dread washed over you. A grand festivity was planned to celebrate their return. You found yourself drawn, against your better judgment, to the ikran roost, the massive, gnarled branches that served as a landing for the winged beasts. You watched, hidden amongst the shadows, as the hunters returned. Their ikrans descended, their cries piercing the air, a flurry of vibrant wings and triumphant shouts.

Then you saw him. Neteyam, dismounting from his ikran with that effortless grace, his golden eyes scanning the crowd. And beside him, Lenara. She laughed at something he said, a bright, clear sound that carried on the breeze. She playfully smacked his chest, her hand lingering for a moment, her smile radiant. The sight was a physical blow, a sharp, cold stab delivered right to your chest. The air left your lungs, leaving you gasping, though no sound escaped.

You turned, stumbling away from the roost, the familiar path blurring through a sudden film of tears. The humiliation burned, a hot flush spreading across your skin. How stupid, you thought, how utterly foolish of you to think it was your place to wait for him. You spent the rest of the day in a haze of misery. He seemed truly busy, caught up in the preparations for the feast, surrounded by his family, by the other hunters. And probably by Lenara. He didn't seek you out immediately, and that absence, that lack of his usual relentless pursuit, only twisted the knife deeper. It felt like a confirmation of everything you were overthinking in the past weeks.

As the festivities began, the rhythmic drumbeats and communal chanting filling the air, you tried to disappear into the crowd. You watched from a distance as the Sullys  took their place on the dais. Then, you saw the hunters who brought abundance to the clan, among them Neteyam and Lenara, performing the ancient tribal dance among the swirling mass of dancers. They moved together, their bodies flowing with the music, surrounded by other hunters and warriors. Cheers erupted, their voices rising and falling with the beat. It felt like someone was strangling you, forcing you to choke on dirt, on the bitter taste of your own insignificance.

You were unsuitable for that. For the public display, for the grand gestures, for the honored place by his side. Your place, you realized, was in the hidden thickets of the forest, designed only to pleasure him, a low virtue woman, a secret kept in the shadows.

You slipped away, unnoticed in the jubilant chaos. The sounds of celebration faded behind you as you made your way back to your family’s kelku. It was empty, a silent sanctuary. You collapsed onto your mat, the woven fibers cool against your cheek. The tears, held back for so long, burst forth. A raw, guttural sob ripped from your throat, followed by another, and another. You allowed yourself to make noise, to release the grief that had been building, knowing your family wasn’t home to hear.

You loved him. You always had. From childhood, through the awkward years of adolescence, and now, a love that was both a blessing and a curse. To know that it would never be you. You two would never happen. You would never have him in the ways you craved, the ways that truly mattered. Your sobbing was so loud, so consuming, that you didn’t hear the soft rustle of someone entering the kelku. You didn’t notice the shifting shadows until a warm hand touched your arm.

Your eyes snapped open, wide and startled, your breath catching in your throat. You flinched, pulling away, your gaze flying to the intruder. Neteyam. His forehead was creased, deep lines of worry etched between his brows, his golden eyes filled with a raw concern. His hand flew to your face, his thumb brushing away a tear, and he groaned, a low, pained sound.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

You swatted his hand away, your earlier grief curdling into a familiar anger. “None of your concern. Why are you here?”

“Can’t find you in the crowd,” he answered, his hand falling to his side, but his eyes never leaving your face.

You rolled your eyes, turning your back to him, pulling your knees to your chest. “I wonder why,” you murmured, the sarcasm thick in your tone. You lay back down on your mat, facing away from him. The last thing you wanted was for him to know you were crying because of him, because of Lenara. “Leave. Leave me alone.”

“What?” you heard him ask, the word laced with confusion. His hand reached for your waist now, the other settling on your shoulder, gently but firmly turning you. He maneuvered your body until you were facing him again, your eyes still swollen and red. “Baby, why are you crying?”

You pushed against him, the anger now boiling over. “I already said nothing. When will you ever listen to what I say? I have told you we are over, and you won’t leave me alone. I told you to leave me alone, and you’re still here. Do you not respect me at all?”

Tears welled in your eyes again, blurring his face. He knew this was not the time for his usual playful indifference, his way of dismissing your words through jokes. This was real. You had pushed him away countless times before, but you had also allowed him to get close, to pull you back. He had never truly acknowledged the breakup, treating it like a temporary disagreement, a stubborn phase you would eventually get over. He couldn’t understand why you wanted to end things when nothing seemed to have changed. Your passion when you lay together, your fervent kisses, they were all still there. Did you not want him anymore, beyond the physical?

“Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. You stopped breathing, your heart hammering against your ribs. “That I leave you alone?”

You swallowed, the lump in your throat a painful obstruction. You braved the agony, the raw, searing pain in your chest, and nodded. “Yeah,” you said, your voice barely audible, a fragile whisper that seemed to shatter the silence. You tore your eyes from his, unable to meet the wounded gaze that now clouded his face.

You sensed him nod, a slow, deliberate movement. A fresh wave of tears threatened to overwhelm you. It’s for him, you told yourself, and for you. Should he one day realize he needs to act on his duty to the clan.

“Can I stay though?” he asked, his voice small, vulnerable, a stark contrast to his usual confidence. “Tonight? I missed you so much. I was counting the days until I got back and saw you again, and this is how you welcome me? A sight of you crying?”

“Stop,” you mumbled, pressing your hands over your ears, trying to block out his words, his pain. “Just go, Neteyam. And no, you can’t stay tonight. I want to be alone.”

You flopped back onto your mat, your back facing him, curling into a tight ball. He didn’t leave immediately. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, feeling like an eternity. You held your breath, terrified that any inhale, any exhale, would unleash another torrent of sobs. You heard the rustle of movement, the soft pad of his feet, the faint sound of the kelku entrance opening and closing. He was gone.

The relief was immediate, sharp, and quickly replaced by a profound, desolate emptiness. You let out a shuddering breath, and the tears came again, with a finality that echoed the silence in the kelku. This time, there was no holding back.

Meanwhile, Neteyam stood rooted outside as you sobbed within the kelku, the ache in his chest a dull throb. He was so frustrated with himself. For moons, he had asserted his will, his presence, refusing to acknowledge the space you demanded. Now, when he needs to truly be there, to gather you into his arms and hush your tears, he couldn’t, because he would be proving you right about not respecting your boundaries.

Do you not respect me at all? The question burned, a brand on his skin. He wanted to show you that he respects you. So he stayed, a statue carved from sorrow and regret, listening to the guttural sounds of your heartbreak.

You wished for his arms, the familiar weight, the scent of him that clung to you even now. But the image of Neytiri and Jake, their faces alight with pride as they watched Lenara by his side, twisted in your gut. He would forget you, once he was mated. Perhaps you would forget him, too, once you were mated. The thought felt like a lie, a cruel joke. No one could ever take his place. No one.

The days stretched, thin and brittle. You moved through the forest, a ghost among the vibrant flora, your foraging punctuated by your constant crying fest. You scanned the tree line, the undergrowth, a futile search for his familiar silhouette. He never appeared. Yet, a faint tremor in the leaves, a fleeting shadow at the edge of your vision, hinted at a presence. He moved unseen, a silent guardian, a shadow clinging to your path, ensuring your safety without breaking the fragile boundary you had erected.

At communal dinners, the warriors spoke of Neteyam and Lenara. The huntresses, however, offered a different narrative. Lenara, they murmured, was simply too eager. The whispers reached you, sharp barbs that pierced your already bruised heart.

Meanwhile, Raynuk whose admiration for you had been repeatedly thwarted by Neteyam’s possessive maneuvers, saw his chance. He approached you one day as you gathered fibers from plants. He moved with a quiet grace, his hands reaching to help you with the heavy basket of glowing specimens. You found yourself conversing with him easily, the simple act of sharing a task a comfort in your solitude.

He walked beside you, the basket now resting easily in his strong hand. As hometree’s immense roots began to loom into view, he stopped. He brushed his nape, his fingers wrapping around it nervously.

He called your name, his voice a low rumble. “There’s something I want to ask you. I want to ask now, just in case I get stopped by circumstances again.”

Your smile faltered. You recognized the hesitant posture, the slight tremor in his voice. You tilted your head, waiting. He truly believed it was "circumstances" that had kept him from you, oblivious to the silent, watchful presence that had always deterred him.

“I… well, can I court you? I have liked you for so long. And well, you were close to Neteyam and I thought you two are more than just friends… but I guess you’re not.” He offered a small, awkward smile. “I-I can wait for your answer. You don’t need to answer now. You can have all the time to think.”

A relieved smile spread across your face. “Alright… I’ll think about it, Raynuk. Thank you.”

He smiled back, a genuine warmth in his eyes. You resumed your walk towards Hometree, the basket now back in your hands.

From the training grounds, Neteyam’s gaze, sharp as a hunter’s arrow, fixed on your retreating figures. He watched Raynuk hand you the basket, a brief exchange of words, then a tentative hug before you parted. A low growl rumbled in Neteyam’s chest. He hadn't slept, barely eaten in two weeks, consumed by your absence, yet here you were, smiling after a touch from another. His eyes narrowed, a storm brewing within their golden depths.

He put his bow in its place, the thud echoing across the training area. Lo’ak’s voice, a distant shout, called out to him, but Neteyam ignored it. He knew your routine. After foraging, you always washed by the river. He stalked towards it, a predator on the hunt.

You knelt by the bank, washing the dust from your arms, when a familiar scent, a powerful blend of forest and warrior, reached you. You startled, your head snapping up. He stood there, a gaunt shadow, his face pale, eyes heavy with sleeplessness. Yet, your own eyes, sharp and accusing, met his, as if he had wronged you when you were the one who had sent him away.

“Raynuk and you, huh?” he said, his voice laced with a bitter mockery.

You rolled your eyes. “And how is that your business?”

“Everything about you is my business,” he replied, his voice hard, unyielding.

You rose, slowly, deliberately. He quickly straightened, the mighty warrior who faced the most fearsome beasts without a flinch now seemed to fear, a comical tremor in his stance.

“I don’t think so, Neteyam. I think you’re doing just fine in the past weeks.” You mocked, a cruel edge to your voice. “What is it the hunters say? Oh, you and Lenara. I can see how perfect of a match it is. I can’t wait for you two to mate,” you said, voice thick with sarcasm.

You turned, attempting to walk past him, but his hand shot out, grabbing your arm, pulling you back with a jolt. You sprang back, a toy on a string.

“Do not listen to what they say because I don’t care for her,” he said, his voice hard as stone, his eyes, dark and intense, pinning yours. “I can’t even properly eat and sleep, so depraved of you, thinking about what’s gotten into you that you’ll throw us away just like that and then I’ll see you with Raynuk? Do you want that boy to be thrown out of here?”

You saw the truth in his words. His pale skin, the shadows beneath his eyes, spoke of genuine suffering. Your eyes widened at his threat though. “Neteyam!” you reprimanded, a sharp gasp. “How can you say that?! Raynuk is a good and loyal hunter of the clan—”

He groaned, cutting you off. “What did you two talk about? I saw him. He hugged you…” His voice, raw and hoarse, betrayed his desperation.

“He asked to court me,” you shrugged, feigning indifference.

“And you rejected him?” he asked, his voice strained, on the precipice.

“Nope,” you answered, a wicked satisfaction blooming in your chest as his eyes flared, a dangerous fire igniting within. His hand on your arm tightened, pulling you against him, the sudden contact stealing your breath. “It’s time I accept suitors—”

“Don’t you love me anymore?” he asked, the vulnerability in his voice so palpable, so raw, it caught you off guard. The sharp humor vanished, replaced by a sudden, aching sorrow. This was no time for games.

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze, unable to answer. He tugged at your arm, forcing your eyes back to his.

“I love you so much and I always will, but I do know when to stop. If you truly want me out of your life, then say so,” he said, his voice etched with pain, his eyes pleading.

You couldn’t answer. He huffed, an impatient, anguished sound.

“I don’t know what’s making you act this way, but I wish to know, baby, so I could fix it. We are good, babe, don’t throw this away,” his voice cracked, anguish thick in the air.

“Yeah, we are good. I am good. Especially on my back, for your pleasure,” you pushed against his chest, tried to pull your arm away, but his grip tightened, unyielding. “But not just on my back, right? Sometimes on my hands and knees, on top of you, or—”

“What?” he sounded enraged, his voice a low growl. “Do not ever say that, not when you are everything to me—”

“I don’t think so,” you said, looking at him, your lips pulled down, tears pooling in your eyes. “Two years, Neteyam. Two years we were together but not once did you ask me to be your mate! This is pathetic but it is true—”

“No, it’s not true. I want you to be my mate, to be truly mine, but the council—”

“Yes! The council. Your parents. Do what they want, as you have always done, perfect soldier! Dutiful son. Mate Lenara, like what they want you to do! Leave this behind! Forget about me and I shall find my own path!”

He stared at you, seething with anger. Not at the insults hurled at his person, but at the idea of you finding your own path. Your paths were intertwined, for all he cared.

“And find your own path how?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

You tilted your head, a smirk playing on your lips. “Well, first, I’ll accept Raynuk’s courtship,” you said, the words dripping with nonchalance. “Perhaps I’d like him enough to mate him—”

He produced a sound, a guttural growl that vibrated through the air. He stepped closer, towering over you, and a shiver ran down your spine. You swallowed, once again confronted with how massive he really is.

“And you think I will allow you?” he asked, his voice a silken threat.

“You have no choice,” you spat, defiant.

“For that alone, I’ll add Raynuk to the team that will set out for the Aranahe clan tomorrow. He’ll be gone for six moons…” He paused, his eyes gleaming with a predatory confidence. “And by the time he comes back, you’d be swollen with my child.”

You pushed against him, but he didn’t budge, a mountain of muscle and determination. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him. Your breath hitched as you felt his hard, thick cock press against your midriff.

“That was the reason, huh? You left me because you think I’ll follow my parents’ order to mate with whoever they desire?”

You rolled your eyes. “Isn’t it true? You always did your duty,” you said, a bitter accusation.

“Not when it comes to this. Not when it means I’ll live a miserable life away from you. Not when it means I’ll live in agony watching you with someone else,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, raw with truth.

You tore your eyes away, unwilling to believe that he will disobey the council and his parents... all for you. But still, a tremor ran through your body at the thought of it. You wished with all your heart that it was true.

His hand snaked behind you, pulling you even closer, his erection insistent against your skin. “You are too young, yawntu, you and Kiri always talked about not mating young. I thought that wasn’t your preference.” He squeezed your waist, regret vibrating through his touch. If only he had known your true desire in those two years, he would have ensnared you sooner.

“Excuses. Your mother had you at nineteen!” you retorted.

He laughed, a rich, deep sound, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His hand caressed your back, a soothing rhythm. “Is that so, hm? Did you want a baby at nineteen, too?” he asked, a playful glint in his golden eyes.

You glared at him, your anger warring with a sudden, unexpected warmth.

“I want nothing else but that, too…” he said, his other hand rising to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. “It’s not too late, you know… you’re only twenty.” He smirked, bending at the waist, bringing his face closer to yours. His lips, soft and tentative, grazed yours. You didn’t pull away, didn’t push him back. He released a shuddered breath of relief, pressing another series of kisses, light and tender. “I love you so much…” he whispered, pulling back just enough to gaze into your eyes. “Do you love me?”

Your lips pushed forward, your eyes fixed on his mouth, longing evident in their depths. “Yeah…” you mumbled.

He inhaled shakily, as if that single word had been the air he desperately needed. “I need the words,” he said, indulging you, indulging himself.

“I love you…” you mumbled again, softer this time.

A huge smile broke across his face, lighting his eyes. “I love you more, baby,” he said quickly, fiercely. “How much?” he followed up.

“So much…” you said, rolling your eyes, but a smile touched your lips. He only chuckled.

“So much?” he pressed, and you nodded. “Mate with me then, right now. If you love me so much,” he dared, his voice a challenge and a plea.

Your wide eyes snapped to his. “This isn’t a joke, Neteyam,” you said, the seriousness of his request settling over you.

“I am not joking. Mate with me. Right now,” he insisted, his serious eyes fixed on yours, unwavering.

“T-The council…” The irony of your own words, your own fears, echoed in your mind.

“I’ll handle them,” he said, dismissing the unseen authority with a wave of his hand. “Right now, I need you to be mine. Truly, in every sense of the word.”

You stared up at him. He tilted his head, waiting for your answer, his gaze burning into yours. You nodded, a slow, deliberate movement. A huge smile once again spread across his face. He breathed a relieved sigh.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispered, cupping your face, kissing you hard, deeply.

He pulled you away from the river into the depth of the forest until you two reached the ancient, sacred heart of the forest, the Tree of Souls. Its majestic presence, adorned with bioluminescent tendrils, never fails to fill you with awe. He led you beneath its shimmering embrace, turning to you, his smile wide, his lips finding yours again. You smiled into the kiss, a warmth spreading through you, chasing away the lingering chill of sorrow.

His forehead furrowed, his eyes serious as they searched for yours. “Yawntu… I want you to know that there was never a hesitation, nor have I ever had any second thoughts about where you stand in my life,” he said, taking your hand and pressing it against his chest, against the strong beat of his heart. “You have always been the it for me. I love you very much, so please believe what I say.”

You smiled, tears pooling in your eyes, blurring his face. “I believe you, Neteyam…” you mumbled, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry that I have been too petty, that in thinking I was doing us good, I ended up hurting you and in the process, hurting myself. Instead of talking to you, I proceeded to just end it and…” A sob tore at your throat. “It was the worst moons of my life. I thought I would never be with you again…”

He groaned, pulling you into a tight, crushing hug, hushing you with soft whispers. “It’s all over, baby… and we weren’t separated that long anyway. Good thing I don’t know how to stay away from you, huh?”

You chuckled, remembering his stubborn persistence. “I secretly loved it…” you confessed, your voice muffled against his chest.

He laughed breathily. “Good,” he grinned, lowering his head to kiss you. “You won’t be able to get rid of me. Never.”

You choked a laugh, groaning dramatically. “I guess I’m doomed, huh?”

He smirked, his eyes twinkling. “To a lifetime of being loved unconditionally.” He sealed the words with a kiss.

You grinned against his lips, kissing him back hotly, your hands roaming the expanse of his muscled body, humming with appreciation for what you could touch. You pushed him against the rough bark of the Tree of Souls, and he groaned at your aggression, his arousal spiking. You fumbled with the ties of his loincloth, untying it with urgent fingers until he stood naked before you. You pushed him down, until he sat on the ground. You looked down at him, then slowly shed your top, revealing your round, full breasts to the soft, ethereal light.

Next, your loincloth. You untied it with deliberate slowness, watching his hard, thick cock twitch upwards despite its weight. You licked your lips at the sight, kneeling and crawling towards him. His hands found your waist as you neared, lifting you effortlessly, plopping you onto his lap, your legs straddling him, his cock already aiming for the tight hole of your pussy, desperate for the tight sheath of your warmth.

“No,” you protested, pushing against his chest and lifting your hip up to avoid the head of his cock as he lined it to enter you.

He looked at you, a soft groan escaping his lips. He gripped his cock, as if to placate it as he reluctantly released you.

“There’s something I want to do to you…” you said, pushing him gently against the tree, positioning yourself on all fours between his legs.

He watched you, his eyes filled with lust, a drunken smile on his face, allowing you to take control. You lowered your head, kissing the base of his shaft, licking your way up to its head which you then gave a deep suck, making him groan. You reached for your queue behind you. The pink tendrils moved on their own, rising. He quickly reached for his own, thinking you would make tsaheylu, but instead, you guided your queue to the wide head of his dick. You felt the tickle of it, your knees almsot buckling from the sensation it gave you. But as you watched his eyes dilate, his lips parting, the muscles of his abdomen contracting, you could tell he was more pleasured.

That satisfied you, watching his dick swell even larger and harder. You didn’t take your eyes off him as you lowered your head again, your ass still high in the air. You licked the length of it, the tendrils of your queue embracing the head. You sucked at the thick ridge on the underside of his cock. He made sounds, deep and pleasured, and you caressed the skin of his inner thigh. His hands had fallen to his sides, his own queue forgotten. You took it, bringing it close to your breast until the tendrils embraced it, and he groaned loudly, his hips buckling.

“Fuck! Fuck, baby…” he moaned, his hand flying to your shoulder as bolts of electricity shot through his spine.

You removed your queue from the head, wrapping it around his balls instead, so your mouth could suck on the head. You sucked and twirled your tongue, your eyes locked on his. His mouth gaped perpetually, releasing shuddered breaths, moaning your name as his face cortort in pleasure.

You pleasured him with your mouth, taking him whole as you had done countless times before, your body instinctively knowing how to accommodate him. When he came, he came so hard, his cum spilling from your mouth, dripping down your chin. You swallowed everything, humming happily, your tail wagging as if you're savoring your most cherished food.

You licked the sides of your mouth as you rose. Neteyam reached for your face, scooping the drip from your chin with his thumb, bringing it to your mouth. You sucked his thumb clean, and he stared at you, his lips parted and his eyes gleaming with wonder and desire.

“Good?“ you asked, licking your lips.

His lips curled into a lopsided smile, his hand falling on your breast, pinching a nipple. “It was mind-blowing, baby,” he said in a hoarse voice. “So. Fucking. Good.” 

He was leaning against the bark, looking spent and weak, reeling from your ministrations, but quickly he regained his strength, pulling you to him, effortlessly maneuvering you into the straddling position he had you in earlier. Your legs spread wide, your body slightly slanted as he cradled you in his arm. He lowered his head, taking one of your breasts into his mouth, while his queue stimulated the other. You reached for his cock, gripping it, caressing its length and he jolted, his teeth clamping down hard on your breast.

“Aw!” Your hand flew to his shoulder as you arch your back, your breast seeking comfort from the sharp pain brought by his teeth.

“Fuck, sorry, baby...” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to your breast before licking the outline of his teeth around your nipple, then sucking it softly. You cradled his head, caressing the braids on his nape. He lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire as he perused your form, laid out for him like a feast. He detached his queue from your breast and you smiled, detaching yours from his dick. He brought his queue up, showing you the pink tendrils, and when you leveled yours with his, he made no delay in touching his kuru with yours, making the tsaheylu.

You both gasped, a jolt of unexplainable sensation pulsing through your bodies. The warmth and lightness in your heart brought tears to your eyes, though your brain couldn't fully comprehend the intensity. All his feelings: the love, the longing, the frustration... It coursed through you. You smiled when you saw a vision of yourself by the river, a younger you, looking over your shoulder and smiling huge.

That image made your heart beat faster, and you realized it was the beat of his own heart, his feelings for that particular memory. It was the very moment he fell in love with you years back and it’s the image he keeps going back to. You were so radiant, so beautiful as a halo of light surrounds you. You are his own heart.

 You peered at Neteyam, seeing his dilated eyes, a soft smile on his lips. “I see you, my love…” he said with wonder. 

You smiled, tears tracing paths down your cheeks. “I see you, ma ‘teyam…”

He held your hand, bringing it to his lips. “I love you so much...” he said, forehead creased as if the intensity of his emotions is so overwhelming, it’s making his face contort.

A sob tore through your throat and you pulled yourself up so you could hug and kiss him, your heart filled with unspeakable joy. You pressed your forehead against his. “I love you, Neteyam. I love you so much.”  

“Not possible. I love you so much more,“ he countered and you groaned, chuckling in the process.

“Show me?“ you said, biting your lip.

His eyes darkened, looking into your eyes as if challenging you before he brought you back to your earlier position, your upper body slanted, suspended in the air supported only by his arm around you, his hand hooked on your shoulder.

He grabbed his dick, giving it a few pumps before lining it up with your pussy. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for his entry. When he entered, he entered completely in one go, pushing into you while his other hand on your hip pulled you to him, stretching your tight walls with a delicious thickness. He groaned at the same time you arched your back, a startled yelp tearing at your throat.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby...“ he gritted his teeth, his face contorting with pleasure.

Your free hand found your breast, kneading it as the other caressed his bicep. “You’re not complaining, are you, my love? My best friend has not visited me in over a moon,” you feigned a pout as you squeezed around his girth.

He huffed a laugh, adjusting himself so he could start moving. “Did you miss him?” he humored you, his large hand covering your hand over your breast so he could help with the massage.

You pretended to think, but your face had already betrayed you when he started moving. “Ah, yes... I miss him so much,” you gripped his bicep, your other hand on your breast caressing down to move over your belly where he’s bulging. “Hi, bestie.” You chuckled, poking the bulge.

He squeezed your breast and laughed. “Want to see him go fast, baby?“ he asked.

You peered up at him with a seductive smile. “Yes... Wanna see him go fast so bad,” you said in a husky voice.

He raised a brow, adjusting his hands on your body, and then he thrusted, fast and hard, pulling your hips to him as hard as he pleases. You felt like a doll, body being used entirely for the pleasure of your husband and nothing aroused you better than the thought. He fucked you, harder than he ever had, and the sensations were heightened, intertwined by your mating. You felt what he felt. How your warm walls embraced his cock tightly, how good it felt for him. And he felt what you felt too, the stretch of his cock, the profound pleasure of everything.

He was insatiable. It was as if all the pent up energy he had during the moon you weren’t together begged to be released and you, the culprit, the very reason of both of your forced abstinence, shall receive it. And with great enthusiasm, you did. When you came in that position, coming down from his high didn’t even take long for he laid you on the ground, kissing you, your neck, your shoulders, your chest.

He pulled out of you with a wet pop, his still-hard cock standing in salute for you, both of you dripping with thick essence. The image made you feel so hot but he was busy kissing his way down your body, his fingers scooping every drop of cum that dripped out of you.

He brought it to your lips and you lapped at it, sucking in earnest. His lips found your slick inner thigh, kissing and licking, until he reached your wetness, kissing it with parted lips, sucking on your soft folds. Your hips bucked and he held it down, curling both hands on your parted thighs as he ate you out with extreme vigor— licking, sucking, and nipping at your folds.

You were a trembling and crying mess by the time he was done with you, but he wasn’t truly done for he kneeled between your legs, hovering over you and you were once again lost in a daze by how majestic he looks. Bigger and broader than any warrior you know that the expanse of him could easily cover your body from sight.

He gathered your right thigh and hooked it around his forearm while he bent the other, leaving it on the ground before plunging into your heat once more and this time, you were given no adjustment because he delivered punishing thrusts in an instant, leaving you a moaning and crying mess.

You wondered if this is what Eywa ought to witness, for your moans sounded more like a sacrilege, and the Tree of Souls was filled with only that sound, mingled with his groans and grunts, and occasional dirty talks. You wondered even more if other Omatikaya couples had breached the threshold of freakiness here, too.

The first rays of Eywa’s light pierced through the tendrils of the Tree of Souls. During the day, when it’s not glowing, it appears translucent, like waterfalls shining in the sunlight, a silent witness to the vows exchanged beneath its boughs. You stirred, a warmth radiating beside you, Neteyam’s arm a heavy band across your waist. A shiver traced your spine, not from the morning chill, but from the enormity of what you two had done.

You shifted, pressing a kiss to the warm skin of his shoulder. He hummed, pulling you tighter, his scent, a mix of forest, musk, and something uniquely him, enveloping you.

“We should go,” you whispered, the words catching in your throat. Your voice felt raw, unused.

He loosened his hold, tilting his head to look at you, his golden eyes still heavy with sleep, yet alight with a profound contentment. A smile touched his lips, slow and tender. “Not yet.”

“They’ll be looking for us,” you insisted, a knot of nerves tightening in your stomach. “My mother… she’ll be frantic.”

He traced the line of your jaw with a thumb. “I’ll handle her. She’ll know you are safe, you are with me.” His tone held an unshakeable certainty, a quiet strength that both soothed and unnerved you. He truly believed it, didn’t he? That being with him was all the explanation needed.

You pushed yourself up, gathering the loincloth that had been carelessly discarded. “She won’t see it that way. Not when the council…” You trailed off, the weight of their expectations pressing down.

He sat up, his movements fluid, powerful. The morning light caught the planes of his chest, the ripple of muscle beneath his skin. He reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “I will handle the council. They have no choice when you are my choice.” His voice held a note of steel, a promise.

You shook your head, pulling your hand free to smooth down your hair. “You say that as if it’s a simple matter. It isn’t. You know it isn’t.” You looked around the sacred space, the serene beauty of it suddenly feeling like a fragile bubble about to burst. “This… this was just for us. The world outside…”

You felt the irony of what you’re saying. You questioned what you thought was his complete obedience to the council and now that he showed you that he will disobey whatever in the name of having you, you felt the weight of it.

He rose, towering over you, his shadow falling across your form. He reached out, cupping your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. “The world outside cannot change what is inside here.” He tapped your chest, then his own. “We are mated, yawntu. Before Eywa. Nothing else matters.”

“It matters to my mother,” you countered, stepping away from his touch, the coolness of the morning air against your skin a stark contrast to his warmth. “It matters to the council. It matters to your parents.”

He sighed, a low rumble in his chest. “They will see. They will understand.” He moved towards you, his presence a comforting heat at your back. “Do not worry about anything. I will handle it all.”

Your forehead creased as you looked up at him. “What can I do? You shouldn’t handle all of these on your own.”

He tilted his head and smiled a radiant one. “You’ll focus on not stressing yourself so you’ll conceive faster,” he smirked. “We have a deadline here.”

You laughed despite yourself and he grinned at you, holding your hand tightly. You walked back through the forest, the familiar path feeling alien under your feet. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, sent a fresh wave of anxiety through you. Neteyam, beside you, strode with an easy confidence, his hand holding yours firmly. His warmth was a constant anchor, but it couldn't entirely quell the tremor in your heart.

As Hometree's colossal roots came into view, a splash of vibrant colors caught your eye. A group of children, small figures darting between the thick roots, played a game of tag. Tuk, her braids flying, chased after a slightly older boy, her laughter echoing through the morning air.

One of the boys who admired Neteyam as a warrior caught sight of the two of you, stopping mid-run and calling out, “Neteyam!”

The children froze, turning towards you. Tuk’s eyes, wide and bright, landed on you, then on Neteyam, her head cocking to the side. The male friend, a boy named Korin who often trailed Neteyam like a shadow, pointed.

“Neteyam!” Korin’s voice, though high-pitched, carried a clear note of awe. His gaze flickered between your joined hands and Neteyam’s beaming face. “Are… are you two mated?”

You felt your cheeks flush, a sudden heat rising. You squeezed Neteyam’s hand, a silent plea for discretion.

Neteyam, however, grinned, a flash of white teeth against his blue skin. He tightened his grip on your hand, pulling you a fraction closer. “Yes, little brother.” His voice was deep, resonant, brimming with pride. “Y/N is now mated to me.” He winked at the boy, a playful glint in his golden eyes.

A collective gasp rose from the children. Tuk, her eyes wide as saucers, bounced on the balls of her feet. “Yes! Does this mean Y/N is now my sister?” She launched herself at you, wrapping her small arms around your waist, burying her face against your hip.

You laughed, a genuine, joyful sound that surprised even yourself. You knelt, hugging her back, the simple innocence of her question a balm to your frayed nerves. “Yes, Tuk,” you murmured into her hair. “Yes, it does.”

A sudden, sharp voice cut through the children’s excited chatter. “Oh, Y/N! There you are!”

Your head snapped up. Your mother, Ni’alu, emerged from the shadow of a root, her usually serene face etched with worry, her shoulders hunched. She hurried towards you, her eyes fixed solely on your face. “I was so worried about you, you stubborn child! You didn’t come home last night!” She reached you, her hand already reaching for your arm, her gaze not even registering the large, blue figure standing protectively close.

“Mother!” you protested, trying to pull away.

But her grip was firm. She pinched your side, a familiar reprimand from your childhood. “Where were you, child?” Her voice was laced with a mixture of anger and relief. She aimed for your other side, her gaze still not quite focusing.

Neteyam stepped forward, his broad frame interposing itself between you and your mother’s next pinch. Only then did her eyes finally land on him. Her jaw dropped, her hand freezing in mid-air. Her gaze traveled up his towering height, her expression shifting from anger to utter shock.

“Neteyam?” she breathed, the word barely a whisper.

He offered her a smile, one that usually disarmed even the most formidable warriors. You knew, however, from the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw, the slight tension in his shoulders, that he was nervous. Only you could pick up on those subtle tells. “Good morning, Ni’alu,” he said, his voice steady, respectful. “I am the reason she didn’t come home last night.” He paused, his gaze meeting yours for a fleeting moment, a silent promise passing between you. “I… Well, we mated.”

The children, who had been watching in stunned silence, gasped again. Tuk, still clinging to your leg, bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly.

Your mother’s lips parted, her eyes wide with something akin to horror. “You… you mated with my daughter?” Her voice rose in pitch, a tremor running through it.

Neteyam nodded, his expression unwavering. “I have loved your daughter since we were children, Ni’alu. And if you’ll allow me, I’ll ask for you and for Taylan’s blessing.”

She staggered back a step, releasing a nervous, almost hysterical laugh. “What of the council, Neteyam? My daughter is not Tsakarem! We are only weavers!” The words tumbled out, a desperate plea for reason in a world suddenly turned upside down.

Neteyam shook his head, his hand reaching out to steady her, his touch gentle but firm. “It will be handled, Ni’alu.” His voice was calm, resolute, a mountain against her rising tide of fear.

The walk into Hometree felt like a procession. Your mother, still reeling, led the way, her steps uncertain. She made a beeline for Mo’at’s tent, her usual composure utterly abandoned. Neytiri, by chance, was already there, her face a mask of quiet contemplation as she listened to her mother.

Neytiri’s eyes, sharp and discerning, swept over you and Neteyam as you entered, your hands still clasped together. A flicker of understanding, then concern, crossed her features. She needed no words.

“I will first apologize for my daughter’s recklessness, Mo’at, Neytiri,” your mother began, her voice a torrent of anxious words. “But she mated with Neteyam—”

“Do not apologize, Ni’alu.” Neteyam’s voice, cold and firm, cut through your mother’s frantic speech. Jake, summoned by Tuk at Neteyam’s quiet instruction, arrived, his presence a solid anchor beside Neytiri. Neteyam’s gaze, now fixed on his parents and Mo’at, held an unwavering resolve. “I asked her to mate with me because I could no longer spend time away from her, without her truly being mine. I have always loved her, and if you know me, you’ll know that, too. No council could ever decide against my desire to have her as my mate, so I won’t apologize for this decision. And I expect you all not to make my mate apologize for this, either.”

He looked at his parents, his expression demanding their understanding, their acceptance. Jake watched his son, a slow smile spreading across his face, a nod coming almost instantly. Pride swelled in his eyes.

Neytiri, however, the one whose approval you craved and feared most, stepped forward. Her gaze, fierce and penetrating, locked onto yours. “And you allowed that, Y/N?” Her voice was low.

You met her gaze, your lips trembling. The words caught in your throat. How could you explain the whirlwind of emotions, the sudden, desperate certainty that had driven you?

“No ceremonies? No blessings from the Tsahik?” she pressed, her eyes narrowing.

You swallowed, finding your voice, though it was still a little shaky. “It makes no matter, Neytiri. I love Neteyam, and we mated before Eywa. That much is a blessing in itself.” Your words held a quiet strength, a conviction that surprised even you.

A slow smile broke across Neytiri’s face, a breathtaking sight. She glanced at Mo’at, who stood serene and composed, as though she had seen this moment coming for a lifetime. Mo’at’s eyes, ancient and wise, met yours, a gentle understanding shining within them.

“I will now give my blessings,” Mo’at said, her voice a soft murmur, yet it resonated with immense authority. “Y/N. Neteyam.”

Neteyam squeezed your hand, pulling you closer to Mo’at. Everything happened in a rush, a dizzying blur of movement, much like the mating itself. You knelt before the Tsahik, Neteyam beside you, his presence a steadying force. Mo’at’s ministrations were swift, the ancient chants and sacred gestures flowing around you, enveloping you in a cocoon of tradition and acceptance. It felt quick, almost too quick for such a profound ritual, but the depth of its meaning was undeniable.

Midday, the air in Hometree bristled with unspoken tension. Neteyam was summoned to a council meeting. The news of his mating had spread like wildfire, reaching Lenara’s father, who, as you suspected, sought an immediate explanation. The gathering was formidable: the elders, Lenara herself, her parents, Neytiri, Jake, and Mo’at.

“Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan,” Rama, a female elder with eyes like polished obsidian, began, her voice crisp, unyielding. “When you were eighteen, you agreed to a consensus with the elders. That once you are twenty-two, you will have been mated to a woman of our choosing. A full cycle has passed since what was agreed upon. And now we hear that you are mated. But she is not the council’s choice.”

Neteyam let out a silent sigh, almost imperceptible. “Such is the case, Elder Rama,” he confirmed, his voice calm, even.

“Then it is clear that the son of Toruk Makto is not a man of his words?” the elder pressed, a hint of accusation in her tone.

“The council has chosen Lenara for you, Neteyam,” Lenara’s mother interjected, her voice tight with thinly veiled anger.

“I didn’t agree to anything that involved Lenara or any other woman,” Neteyam’s answer was swift, cutting.

“May we know what it is with Lenara that you do not agree with, Neteyam?” another elder, Karim, inquired, his voice laced with patronizing curiosity. “She is a better fit for you; a proven skilled huntress. She has a sharp mind and could also prove to be a competent Tsakarem.”

Neteyam shook his head. “It is not that there is anything about Lenara that I do not agree with, Elder Karim. She is a skilled huntress, as you say, and a good colleague. It is only that my heart has long chosen another.” His gaze flickered to his mother, then to Jake, a silent plea for understanding.

“Such disobedience among the young these days!” Lenara’s father thundered, his face darkening. “The future Olo’eyktan fails to follow through to his words and obey what the elders see fit for him! Where is your loyalty, boy? Where is your heart?”

“Hear, hear! How can we trust a future leader that is already showing such obstinate nature and disregard of better judgment—” another elder chimed in, the words echoing the sentiment of disapproval.

Peeved at their choice of words, their clear implication that he had made a mistake, Neteyam’s voice thundered, cutting through the rising tide of discontent. “What is this ‘better judgment’ you speak of? What do the elders see for me that I cannot see for myself? You speak of my loyalty and my heart, yet you fail to see and consider to whom they truly belong, and with whom they would flourish to help me better myself. Among this council, it is only I who knows what would help me grow and keep me strong. For so long, I have resolved to obey the council when it comes to it. But how can I do that if it means I’m going to live a miserable life with my heart outside my body? Could I truly function as your leader if I were a hollowed shell, away from the woman I love with all of me? Now, if you see it fit that I am removed in the line of succession, then so be it. But I will not apologize for the decision I made simply because I loved.”

Mo’at squeezed Neytiri’s hand, a silent message passing between them. Neytiri smiled at her mother, both of them swelling with pride for the boy he once was and for the man you had made him to be.

“Neteyam, there is no need for that,” Jake immediately said, stepping forward, his voice firm, unwavering. “My son has chosen. And we know that it is not always that he allows wants or impulse to dictate his decisions. He chooses his battles, and he rarely chooses wrong. I understand that the council might think it better that they choose for him, but my son is fully capable of choosing for himself, too. And I am asking for the council’s leave to grant my son this one.”

“Is there anything to grant? Your son is already mated,” one of the elders said with a chuckle, the tension in the room easing slightly. “I guess what’s better fit to do now is to wait for his child, and I think this one won’t be a long wait?”

A ripple of laughter spread through the hut, the collective mood lightening. Neteyam himself allowed a small smile to touch his lips, the tension in his shoulders finally loosening. That won’t be long, he promised silently, though he didn’t voice it. He wanted nothing more than to go to you now that the council was adjourned.

He walked out of the hut, but Lenara’s voice calling his name stalled him. He turned to face the huntress who now looked annoyed, her nose twitching as she smelled the potent smell of you from Neteyam. The same smell she smelled from him when they set out for the hunt. She hadn’t smelled it in weeks, and now, it was even thicker, mixed with the smell of a mated bond.

“Yes, Lenara?”

Lenara fixed him with a hurt glare. “I want to know, Neteyam, if it was true that there was nothing you don’t agree with with me... If it was true, then you would have considered... Considered taking me as your mate. We are good, I have known you my whole life, we trained together, fought together. What does she even know? She’s years younger than you, she doesn’t do what you do. I don’t know why you just can’t see me.“ she snapped. 

She rambled so fast, laying down all her arguments that Neteyam felt dizzy. “Lenara, it was true. There’s nothing that I don’t agree with with you, but that doesn’t mean anything. That’s how I see most colleagues of mine. It doesn’t warrant consideration of you being my mate, not when I am already in a long-term relationship with Y/N who has always been the only woman I see. You and I, Lenara, are colleagues. Teammates. For the clan. Y/N is my woman and it doesn’t matter if she knows what I do because she knows me better than anyone,“ he told her.

“Well, you didn’t allow me to know you,” Lenara countered. “I like you, Neteyam... And I was thinking we could—”

“What do you like about me?“ he asked.

Her lips parted a little, surprised that he would ask that. “Y-You’re a good leader... A skilled hunter and warrior... And you’re more handsome... and hotter than most men in the clan,“ she answered, her cheeks burning purple as she said the last statement.

Neteyam sighed and tilted his head. “Lenara, I think you know what you liked more. You don’t like me, you like this illusion you think I represent. Those are titles I carry in the clan but those alone don’t represent me. Even if you think you can see a future with me now, that would be you lying to yourself. Don’t wallow in what you think is heartbreak following what happened. You don’t know me, you don’t like me, what you’re feeling is regret from being stripped off a title and position in the clan you believe should belong to you. You’re an ambitious woman and I don’t fault you for that, but with my wife... Those titles you spoke of is what complicate things between us. She hated those and if she could have me without them, she’d like that better.”

Lenara looked down, wrangling her hands. She closed her eyes and sighed, as if some sense was knocked into her. “Oh, I’m sorry, Neteyam...“ she gasped for sharp air. “For everything I said. For questioning your relationship with Y/N. I was stupid, and perhaps, you are right. My parents... They expect things from me... And in the process of doing what they want me to do, I lost sight of what’s truly important.”

Neteyam shook his head, feeling bad for the girl. “I’m sorry about that, Lenara. I hope you can find your own path someday. For now, take care, Lenara.“ he said before walking away.

During those tense hours, you sat in the central clearing with Kiri and Tuk, a knot of nerves in your stomach, yet an unshakeable trust in Neteyam. You watched as the hunting party assembled, preparing for their journey to the Aranahe clan. Your eyes scanned the familiar faces, and there, among them, was Raynuk. Your head tilted. Neteyam… that scoundrel had indeed manipulated things to add Raynuk to this party! A small, knowing smile touched your lips.

A few hours later, a wave of relief washed over you as you saw your husband emerge from the council hut, his face no longer etched with the strain you’d seen earlier. A huge grin spread across his face, confirming that nothing dire had transpired. You smiled, rising to meet him, your hands pressing against his chest, caressing the soft skin as you encircled your arms around his neck.

He settled both hands on the curve of your waist, pulling you against him, and bent to kiss you hard, his lips demanding, possessive. “We ought to make up for the time lost in that meeting,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice thick with desire. “In those hours, I could have had you in ten different positions.”

You smacked his chest lightly, a laugh bubbling up. “We can do that tonight,” you grinned, angling your head to kiss his jaw.

He groaned. “Tonight?!” he asked dramatically. “We’re losing so much action due to all of this council drama...” he mumbled, nuzzling his cheek against yours.

You chuckled. “You have all of me now, Neteyam. Always... We have all the time in the world.” you promised him, your hand pressing against his chest.

Always true to his words, Neteyam’s words about Raynuk proved to be prophetic for six months later, when Raynuk returned from the Aranahe clan, his face etched with the weariness of a long journey, still harboring a faint, lingering hope. He approached Hometree, the communal clearing bustling with energy as the festivities of their arrival welcomed them, scanning the familiar faces, searching for yours. He had imagined you waiting, perhaps, now ready to consider his courtship.

He sought you out, a hopeful glint in his eyes, but his steps faltered as he saw you. You stood by the dais, where the Sully family took their seat during festivities and communal meals. Your hands resting gently on the prominent curve of your belly as you watched something in the crowd.

And then as if on cue, Neteyam rounded the dais, his hand filled with food that you eyed with excitement. He put it down on the table, standing beside you, his hand snaking possessively around your waist, his golden eyes, usually so sharp, softened with an overwhelming tenderness as he looked at you. He was broader, even more muscled, a mountain of a man, radiating an aura of fierce contentment.

Raynuk’s gaze flickered between your swollen belly and Neteyam’s proud, unwavering stance. Your eyes found Raynuk, feeling the stare and although you knew that the festivities are held for the party dispatched for Aranahe, it completely slipped your mind that Raynuk was among them.

You offered him a smile and a nod. Neteyam, sensing you were looking at someone in particular, traced your line of vision and saw Raynuk. He remembered the one-sided beef he had with the hunter, the competition he fought without the other’s knowledge. Now, he still felt like the man poses a challenge, seeing how he looked at his wife, but then he realized that Raynuk was probably also seeing how swollen you are with his child.

He watched how a flicker of understanding, then resignation, crossed Raynuk’s face before the hunter offered a small, polite nod, then turned, walking away, the weight of a hope unfulfilled heavy on his shoulders. He was clueless of the declaration Neteyam made moons ago, but the sight before him spoke volumes.

Neteyam looked at you, a triumphant glint in his golden eyes. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "I told you," he whispered, his voice full of pride and love. "The next time he sees you, you’d be swollen with my child,“ it was a soft, possessive murmur that sent a shiver of warmth through you.

You smiled, a contented sigh escaping your lips. You pressed a hand to your belly, feeling the gentle flutter of life within. “Well, you are diligent. It wasn’t really a surprise, my love,” you said with a chuckle. 

No one is probably as determined as Neteyam on a mission. There was not a day you weren’t filled with his seed, even making you lie with a pillow beneath your hips, having heard from Norm that it’s the best way to conceive. And since the bond has opened your body for conception, it didn’t prove that much of a challenge that only a few weeks into your marriage and Mo’at has already taken notice of the frantic beating of the pulse on your neck, telling you it is a telltale of pregnancy.

Neteyam’s hand pulled you closer by the waist, his lips brushing against your temple. You leaned into him, your hand finding his, intertwining your fingers. The quiet hum of your connection, the steady beat of his heart against your back, the soft flutter of new life within you, it was all the answer you needed. Your path, it turned out, was always meant to be intertwined with his.

[smuttyjane]

hi queen i’m back!!! today i am asking for dom!loak giving navi! reader back-shots after arguing with his dad 😩😩. after my last request you will never stop hearing me 😚!

Always happy to do your requests 😏

Take it│MDNI

│Aged-up Lo'ak x Female Omatikaya Reader

When you hear the alarm go off, signaling that the warriors are returning, you run through the village looking for your mate. The sound echo’s sharp and urgent through the air, bouncing off stone and woven walls, cutting through conversation and laughter alike. Adrenaline pumped through your veins, your heart pounds against your chest, so loud it nearly drowns everything else out.

The sun was rising along the horizon; a chilly breeze continued to blow through the air, carrying the scent of damp grass. The sky is painted in streaks of orange and soft pink, a quiet contrast to the chaos stirring below. Goosebumps line your skin fighting the sweat that beads along your forehead, each breath you take shallow and quick.

Your eyes scan the warriors, hoping to find the one you are looking for. Faces blur together, blue skin, braided hair, streaks of war paint, bodies marked with exhaustion and triumph. Worry passes through your mind, but it disappears within seconds, replaced by a stubborn hope that keeps you moving.

You spot Lo’ak dismounting his ikran. His body was tired; his eyes told a story he never voiced. Something heavy lingers behind him despite his return. Running over to him you call his name bringing his attention to you, your voice breaking through the noise like a tether pulling him back.

Your arms wrap around his neck, and his hands settle on your waist in return. Firm and steady. Your lips find his, passionate and relieved as the taste of breathless relief mixes between you. He picks you up off the ground, spinning you around in a circle before placing you back onto your feet, the world titling a moment before settling again.

“I missed you,” he says, barely above a whisper as he rests his forehead against yours. His breath is warm against your lips, his voice rough from disuse and exhaustion.

“I love you Lo’ak.” You place a soft kiss to his lips; your fingers dig into his skin, clutching at him like he might slip away if you loosen your grip. Every part of you begged for the familiar touch of your mate.

Lo’ak’s body was warm and comforting. His heart beat slow, steady beneath your touch, and his breathing synced with yours for the moments you stand pressed against him. The world around you fades into something distant and unimportant.

It was always a gamble if he would return with the war party or not, so you cling to him. Unwilling to let go even for a second, reassuring yourself that he stood next to you, solid and breathing and real beneath your hands. Your fingers trace absent patterns along his back, memorizing him all over again.

When Tuk and Kiri approach, you slowly move away from him, letting them greet and examine their brother. His hand never leaves the dip of your back. Their voices are lighter, filled with relief, though their eyes search him just as carefully. Neytiri was poking and prodding at Neteyam where he had a small cut, nothing major, but when Jake began to walk over both boys tensed up. The shift in the air was immediate and unmistakable.

“Tuk, go with your mother. Kiri you go too,” Jake says, his voice booming against the rock walls of the village. His authority sat heavy in every word.

“But dad…”

“Do not protest, go.”

When the girls reluctantly leave with Neytiri, Jake looks over to where you stand beside Lo’ak. He brings his hand up, setting it on your shoulder, the weight of it both gentle and firm.

“Go home babygirl. I have to talk with him first,” he says. Jake’s eyes were always soft with you, but you knew. You knew something happened and Lo’ak would face the worst of it, the tension coiling tight in your chest again.

Lo’ak’s hand pats against your skin, reassuring you that everything is fine and he will be there soon.

You don’t make it far before you hear Jake’s voice raise many octaves, sharp and unforgiving. He was furious with them. The words are indistinct, but the anger is not. Looking back over your shoulder, Lo’ak’s gaze meets yours briefly before you continue walking to your kelku. His expression is unreadable, something stormy flickering behind his eyes.

Minutes pass by, but it drags on like hours. The silence inside your kelku feels suffocating compared to the noise outside. You pace around the expanse of the room, biting the skin of your nails, the taste of iron faint on your tongue as you wait patiently for Lo’ak to return. Every sound outside makes your head snap toward the entrance.

When he does finally make it home, his face is screwed into a million different expressions of irritation and anger. His jaw was tight, his shoulders rigid. His hands clenched at his sides as if holding something back. Not pointed towards you, but you would pay for it. The air shifts as he steps inside, heavy and charged.

His hands grip onto your waist, tight and punishing, his lips find yours roughly. A small whine leaves your mouth from the sudden harshness of his touch. His tongue swipes against your lips, and you open for him.

Your body presses against his as he explores your mouth over and over again, slick pools in your loincloth. Your desire from him only grew. Lo’ak’s hand traces up your back, his calloused rough fingers leave goosebumps along your skin in their wake.

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your head back so he could kiss you deeper than before. His cock pressed hard against your stomach; his need was something he never hid. Pressing his forehead against yours, his breath brushes against your lips.

“Get on your knees,” he says, low and rough. It sounds as if he is trying to control himself, but when you do not move fast enough for his liking, he yanks your hair hard. A soft moan leaves your lips, and you fall to your knees in front of him. He gazes down at you, eye level with his cock, and runs one finger along the length of your jaw.

“Turn around, pretty girl.”

You turn around slowly, and he immediately pushes you down until your hands and knees hold you steady. You hear him drop to his knees behind you before he begins to speak again.

“You know, I am so tired of what everyone has to say,” he says, practically growling from the reminder of the previous argument. His hands find the ties to your loincloth and rips it apart, letting the fabric fall to the ground beneath you. His hands leave your body, but you stay still as you let him bare yourself to him.

“I hate when everyone says shit about me, and the little golden boy never has to hear it.”

Before you can say anything back his cock was rubbing through your folds, gathering your slick and brushing past your clit. Quiet moans leave your lips as he continues to speak.

“The one thing I wanted to do was come home to you,” he says while his cock nudges at your entrance, “but no.”

His cock slams deep inside you, pushing against your cervix. Your arms are close to giving out from the force of his thrust, your back arches and your nipples peak against the fabric of your top. 

A soft groan leaves his lips before he sets a punishing pace. His cock slides through your wet walls, brushing past your sweet spot and pressing against your cervix before pulling all the way out and slamming back in again. 

“Lo’ak.” Moans leave your lips, his hands find your waist, and his touch lights your body on fire.

“Yes baby,” he says, groaning while his cock pushes into you again and again. Your hand reaches behind you, pressing against his hard abdomen.

He runs his hand down the length of your back, sending shivers down your spine, and grabs hold of your queue. Lo’ak pulls you up with a rough yank, your back is flush with his chest, his face rests against yours.

“Take it.” Growls leave his lips; rough kisses are placed along your cheek. His hand slides down your stomach, past your lower belly and finds your sensitive bundle of nerves. One finger rubs harsh, quick circles, slick gushes from your entrance down the length of his cock.

The new sensation causes you to arch your back, pressing your ass firmly into him and your hand harder all the same. The new angle allows him to dig deeper. Consistent punishing thrusts fill your core to the brim, delivering the same amount of pleasure each time. 

“Oh Lo’ak, I can’t,” you whimper. Your knees felt weak, your body was tiptoeing the edge of your orgasm. The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your warm, wet walls, his tip pushes against your sweet spot with the perfect amount of pressure. His fingers circle your clit while you unintentionally grind yourself harder on it, begging for more. Your top rubs against your aching nipples, adding just enough stimulation to make it pleasurable.

“Yes, you can baby.”

The hand wrapped around your queue moves to your neck, squeezing tight. Your airway was restricted, but you felt like he breathed the life into you that you needed. Each thrust brought you closer and closer to your climax.

“Let me feel what I do to you,” he whispers. His hand pushes your face towards his and his lips finds yours with quickness. It was barely a kiss. Your mouth hangs open ever so slightly as moans and whimpers fall from you. He swallows your pleasure with no hesitation.

That was all you needed.

Your body becomes rigid and weak. Your nails dig into the rough skin of his abdomen. Your hips grind hard against his fingers, chasing the high you so desperately desire.

Cum gushes from your entrance, sliding down the length of his shaft. The rhythmic clenching of your core sends him over the edge alongside you. Lo’ak places rough kisses down your neck, before moving onto your shoulder. A whine leaves your lips when his teeth sink into the soft dark blue skin, but he always turns the pain into pleasure

With a few more thrusts he thrusted himself to the hilt. Long, thick ropes of cum shoot from his tip, coating your walls in everything he had to give you. He rides out the high shared between you until both bodies are shaking and twitching from excess pleasure.

His grip around you loosens letting you fall to your hands again to catch your breath. Whimpers leave his lips while his tip slowly slides out of your entrance. His cum leaks down your thigh, and he watches your core clench around nothing.

A final groan comes from him, low and breathless, the sound lingering in the space between you. His hand runs down the length of your back, caressing your skin, slow and deliberate as if committing every inch of you to memory. The warmth of his touch contrasts the cool air brushing against your exposed skin. He smooths down your hair, fingers gentle as they untangle stray strands, and rubs over the bite mark to relieve any pain, his touch softening there, almost apologetic.

Goosebumps rise along your skin when his large hands wrap around your waist, his grip firm yet careful, grounding. A quiet gasp leaves you as he hoists you up with ease and flips you onto your back, the world shifting in a blur of motion before settling again. The ground beneath you is cool against your heated skin. Your heart continues to beat out of your chest, loud and insistent, each thump echoing in your ears. Your breathing comes in deep and slow, trying to steady yourself as his presence lingers over you, close enough to feel, impossible to ignore.

He pushes your legs apart to settle himself in between, his cock resting against your stomach. Your gaze finds him and you knew it would be a long night.

“I’m going to fuck you real slow like I wanted to, okay baby?”

[smuttyjane]

Pleaaase a tied up Jake Sullyyy fic. Grant what the people wished for (and by people I mean me) lmao

Im feral for tied up Jake

So Helpless│MDNI

│Jake Sully x Female Omatikaya Reader

It was ironic really. Jake always wanted to pin you against anything, fuck you until you couldn’t form a single thought. And yet, here he was, tied to the rope of the hammock, so helpless.

You sit on the edge, watching as his body squirms. Pleads and begs leave his lips, the sound of his voice was like music to your ears. After he denied you of your climax one too many times last night, you knew you couldn’t keep letting him get away with it.

And you didn’t.

You had been denying him for the last hour. Pulling away from his cock the second it began to twitch deep in your throat.

“Baby. Baby please.” Whimpers fall from his lips. Begs are the only sentences that he can form. His cock was red and angry. Precum leaks from the swollen tip continuously, leaving strings that connect it to his lower abdomen. The sight left your entrance clenching around nothing. 

As much as you wanted to sink down on his throbbing cock, you couldn’t. Not yet at least.

His arms pulled against the restraints, rubbing the skin raw from how tight you had them tied. 

“It’s been long enough don’t you think, baby,” he whines. He stutters on every word doing his best to convince you to let him cum. His legs press tight together, his toes curl against the furs in the hammock. He must have forgotten how you begged for him to let you cum on his cock while he thrusted deep inside you the night before.

“Maybe you’re right,” you say, barely above a whisper, but a sly grin pulls at your lips.

You position yourself in between his legs once more, like you had been doing over and over. You wrap your hand around the base of his shaft, and place a small kiss on his tip, but you had to be careful because at this point, he could cum from just about anything. His tip glides along your tongue, and you shove him deep down your throat, gagging around him.

“Fuck.”

His gaze finds yours. Spit slides down your chin, dripping onto his skin. Tears form in the corner of your eyes as you keep him positioned deep down your throat. 

“Let me cum in your mouth baby please.” His voice was low. Husky and rough. His hips buck, begging for more friction, just enough to push him over the edge. You let him, because the second his cock begins to twitch you pull away once more.

“Baby, no please,” he whimpers. The look on his face was one you wish you could keep forever. A mess of begs and pleads.

You say nothing as you pull yourself up onto your feet, moving closer towards him until your entrance is in line with his cock. Both of your hands lay flat against his stomach, steadying yourself, and you slide yourself down slowly. Moans fall from your lips; groans fall from his in return.

Sitting pelvis to pelvis with him, you begin to slide up and down the length of his cock. The slick that had been leaking from you this entire time made it easy to glide against him. Relief runs through you as the veins and ridges of his shaft slide through your aching walls.

“Oh Jake,” you whine. The sight of him tied up, arms bursting against the ropes, head thrown back from the feeling of you wrapped around him, all of it drove you insane.

One hand slides down the front of your body until a finger lands on your swollen clit. You draw fast, harsh circles, pressing on the sensitive bundle of nerves with just enough pressure. Drilling yourself from below, your hips grind against your own finger creating a rhythm that was beyond pleasurable for both.

His arms pulled against the restraints, the desire to put his hands on your body was immense. To touch your hips. To touch your breasts. To fuck you from below.

You force yourself to keep your eyes open, to watch him. Your back arches, your breasts push together between your arms as you fuck yourself on his cock. His tip digs into your cervix with every drop down and you can feel him begin to twitch.

“Please baby. Please keep going.”

His words only fuel you more, your pace speeds up, harder, faster. The only sounds that fill the air are your moans, and his groans with the mix of skin slapping together. Heat builds in your lower belly, his cock stretches you wide, only adding to the pleasure. The circles you rub onto your clit become faster, your thrusts become sloppy.

Jake’s hips meet yours, trying his best to keep you steady even with his hands tied behind him. Moans of his name leave your lips; goosebumps line your skin as you walk the line of your climax.

“Cum on me baby. Let me feel you.” His voice was rough, begging, pleading. That was all it took to push you over the edge. 

Your legs lock, your body twitches as cum gushes from your entrance. The rhythmic clenching drove Jake over the edge alongside you. His body jerks as relief finally hits him. Long, thick ropes of cum shoot from his tip deep into your core, more than he has even cum before. It leaks from your entrance, down his shaft, as you ride out the high shared between you.

“Fuck baby, fuck.” That was all he could say. You sit on him fully, catching your breath, but Jake was restless.

“You had your fun. Take this off.” All you can do is laugh quietly. He was funny for thinking either of you were getting any sleep tonight.

[scorpiomoon-444]

how big is the AVATAR fandom? reblog if you belong

how many of us are there before/after avatar fire and ash?

[smuttyjane]

Lazy Sex (18+) MDNI

│Jake Sully x Female Metkayina Reader

Sunrise was approaching, casting the eastern sea reefs in shades of blue and grey. The cool breeze from the night blew in through the marui pod sending shivers down your spine.

Jake lays on his side behind you. One arm is wrapped around your waist softly caressing your bright blue skin, the other is resting underneath his head. His chest pressed into your back, his heart beat softly and his breathing matched the rhythm of yours.

You lay awake restlessly listening to the quiet snores that fell from his lips. His soft cock pressed against you and you can't help the slick that pools in your loincloth.

You didn’t want to wake him up for something like this. He spent all day doing the stuff he needed to while also running after his kids. The last thing you thought he would want is to be woken up before he needed to just to relieve you from your desires.

What you didn’t realize was that as you were thinking about how you shouldn’t wake him up, you were rubbing yourself against him.

“Why are you doing that baby,” Jake whispers. His voice was sleepy, groggy from just waking up. You immediately stop the movements you were subconsciously making.

“Sorry I didn’t realize I was,” you say, barely above a whisper as embarrassment creeps onto your face. He slides his hand down your lower belly before gliding a finger across the wet fabric of your loincloth. A small whine leaves your lips from his touch which earns you a low groan from him in return.

“Should’ve woken me up sooner. You’re soaking baby,” he says. You turn your head over your shoulder just to find him undoing the ties to his loincloth. Jake’s cock slaps up against his lower stomach, and you bite back a moan.

He strokes his cock until strings of precum leak from his tip. His gaze finds yours, still sleepy but ready for you to be wrapped around him.

You watch as his arm flexes, his bicep pushes against his arm band. His abdomen tenses from the sudden friction along his length.

His hand finds your hip, making quick work of the tie to your loincloth. Jake doesn’t bother to take it off fully, just enough so he can slide his cock through your folds. He grabs himself by the base, running your slick along his shaft.

You whimper as his tip brushes past your clit and you arch your ass into him.

“So needy,” he groans while positioning his tip at your entrance. Jake’s hand finds your hip once more and he slowly pushes himself into you.

The burn and stretch of his tip were welcoming. You bite your bottom lip, muffling your own moans to not wake anyone else up.

His forehead leans against the back of your head once his cock pressed against your cervix.

“So wet. So tight around me,” he groans. You reach your hand down to his, grabbing his wrist to slide his fingers to your aching clit. His finger runs slow, firm circles to your bundle of nevers.

Jake begins to slide his cock in and out of you lazily. The veins and ridges of him slide through your warm walls. He softly groans repeatedly while you bite back the whimpers you desperately want him to hear.

“Jake,” you whine, begging for more.

“I know baby,” he whispers, speeding up his thrusts ever so slightly.

Jake’s finger rubs harder against your clit as his body finds a rhythm that matches yours. Steady, lazy strokes fill your core.

The hammock creaks underneath the two warm, moving bodies. Harmony hums in the air, even when he wasn’t pleasuring at his full potential, he still has your climax approaching fast.

Heat builds in your lower belly, your entrance begins to clench tight around his cock as he slides in and out of you.

“That feels good,” Jake asks, picking up his speed eager to feel your pleasure.

“Yes Jake, I’m so close,” you whimper, trying your hardest not to be loud.

“Cum on my cock baby,” he whimpers, voice husky and thick with desire.

His words push you closer to your climax. His cock continues to thrust in and out at the careless needy strokes he delivers. Jake’s finger continues to draw circles on your clit.

One more press against your cervix, and pull back along your sweet spot sends you over the edge.

Your body tenses, your teeth sink into the plush skin of your lip. Your hand flies to his, gripping onto his skin by your nails.

Your back arches against him allowing him to thrust deeper inside of you as your cum gushes out along the length of his cock.

“Fuck, I’m going to fill you up baby. You feel so good wrapped around me,” he groans, slowing his thrusts before driving himself in deep. Long, thick ropes of cum shoot from his tip, costing your walls in everything he has to give you.

As his thrusts begin to slow, the grip on each other's bodies loosens.

You struggle to catch your breath while coming down from your high. He whimpers as he slowly slides his tip out of your pulsing entrance.

His cum leaks from your core leaving a mess down the back of your thigh. Jake removed his loincloth and used it to clean up the mess the two of you created together.

“Next time don’t wait to wake me up,” he says softly, laying back down onto the hammock.

You move your body to face him, and his words leave you with the need to pounce on him all over again.

[dilfs-bitch]

Tsìsyì

Thinking of adult Neteyam unable to deny you anything.

Is was a silence inside the Sully family tent was thick, broken only by the rhythmic chorus of breathing from Lo'ak, Kiri, and little Tuk, who were fast asleep further back. Jake and Neytiri were miles away on one of their dates and while the eclipse brought a darkness that should have invited sleep, the air between Neteyam’s hammock and you was electric, heavy with a shared history.

Both had been friends for years—the kind of bond that survived wars—but it carried the weight of a single night they both promised to forget and never truly could. Lying in his hammock, Neteyam could hear every shift of your body in the net beside him, only inches away. Your scent, intensified by the heat of the night, hit him like a physical blow: the musk of your arousal and warm skin that he knew all too well.

In the shadows, he saw first your yellow eyes, then a silhouette move when you leaned back, legs parting subtly at the edge of the hammock, and the invitation came as a breath, nearly inaudible:

— "Come."

Neteyam didn't hesitate. With the silent agility of a hunter, he slipped from his hammock and knelt on the floor of the tent, positioned right between their two hammocks. His face found your heat with a hungry precision. His large hands gripped the fabric of your loincloth, pulling the the cloth aside to expose the intimacy that already glistened under the faint external bioluminescence.

He wasn't just careful; he was devoted. His tongue found your clit with a raw urgency, yet the only sound was the wet friction of skin against skin. Neteyam savored you with long, firm strokes, feeling your entire body tense above him, cunt clenching around nothing. He could feel your thighs trembling against his ears—the tremor of someone on the verge of shattering but forbidden from making a sound.

With every lap of his tongue against your clit Neteyam felt the risk: one loud moan from you and Lo’ak would wake up. One sharp movement and the swaying hammocks would give them away. But he pressed on, his teeth grazing your clit once again as he sucked with a possessiveness no "friend" should ever have, proving that even if it had only happened once before, he was still the absolute master of your every reaction.