pairing: aged-up!neteyam sully x f!omatikaya!reader
summary: neteyam flirts with danger and admirers, but he can’t hide his feelings. when he claims you, the two of you lose yourselves in the glowing forest, your bond igniting into something raw and undeniable.
warnings: MDNI 18+ !! two-thousand words of angsty foreplay, mating / tsaheylu before eywa, porn with plot, slight longing, fingering, oral (fem recieving), p in v, dirty talk, lots of teasing, literally one sentence of a breeding kink, possessiveness.
kelutral - home tree.
nantang - viperwolf.
skxawng - idiot.
paskalin - sweet berry.
yawne - beloved.
The sacred fire crackles at the heart of the Kelutral, sparks spiralling upward like prayers carried to Eywa. Its warm glow illuminates the faces of the gathered clan, casting shifting light across painted faces and braided hair. Before the people stand the newly proven warriors – Neteyam among them – shoulder to shoulder. Tall and unyielding, their broad chests are adorned with fresh beads and tightly bound cummerbunds, the marks of Iknimaya earned through blood and breath.
Your gaze finds Neteyam without effort. His bioluminescent markings glow softly beneath the firelight, pulsing faintly, alive – proud. The scent of roasted yerik mingles with crushed fruit and smoke, heavy and celebratory, as drums pulse in rhythm with the thrum of your heartbeat. The night is alive with triumph, and something quietly electric in the air.
Jake Sully’s voice carries over the murmurs of the crowd.
"Tonight, we honor these warriors. They have proven themselves. And now… they may choose their paths – their mates, if Eywa wills it."
A ripple of excitement moves through the gathered Na’vi.
Neteyam stands tall among the others, his expression calm; but you catch the way his tail flicks once, betraying his nerves.
As the crowd loosens and bodies begin to mingle, laughter spilling into the open space, you start to move towards him, drawn instinctively to his side. You slow however, at the sight of another approaching.
From the edge of the circle, Vi’rey steps forward, her golden eyes gleaming beneath fluttering lashes, beaded braids clicking softly as she moves. She wears her finest woven jewelry, her every move deliberate. She doesn’t hesitate, heading straight for Neteyam.
"The son of Toruk Makto must have many admirers," she says loudly enough for others to hear, her fingers brushing his forearm. Her voice lowers, the space between them shrinking into a private hush, before she purrs, "Strong hunters. Skilled weavers. Those who would bring honor to his name.”
The implication hangs in the air. Neteyam stiffens. But he doesn’t pull away.
You watch from the shadows of the gathered crowd, your stomach twisting. He’s too kind. Too honorable. He won’t embarrass her publicly, even if his eyes keep flickering toward you.
Vi’rey smirks, taking his silence as encouragement.
"Perhaps tomorrow," she murmurs, leaning closer, "you will show me the new trails by the eastern river?"
A muscle jumps in Neteyam’s jaw, but he dips his head in a shallow nod. "Perhaps."
The word is polite. Noncommittal.
But it still makes your chest ache.
The feast stretches into the deep hours of night, the air thick with laughter and the low hum of whispered promise as the celebration devolves from formal rite to social gathering.
You watch from the edges as warriors weave through the crowd; some already paired off, fingers tangled in new embraces, others still circling like sharp-fanged nantang.
You keep a careful eye on Neteyam as he makes polite conversation with other candidates who approach him. It makes your skin itch with irritation to watch him play the part of gracious warrior as they touch and preen at him – but he never lets them get too close.
Neteyam remains near the fire, caught in an endless rotation of admirers.
Vi’rey hasn’t left his side. She laughs too loudly at his dry remarks, her fingers tracing the freshly woven beads around his neck.
Beside you, a few of your friends gather for the festivities, voices dancing between hushed whispers and soft giggles. The fire flares, spilling warm gold across their delicate features. Se’lanu hums thoughtfully, her eyes flicking to yours with knowing anticipation – as if she’s asked you something already. Perhaps she has. But your thoughts have wandered elsewhere, far beyond the circle of light.
You watch him through the flames. His shoulders sit easy, a quiet calm softening his features. He leans forward just enough to catch the words of the girl beside him, attention unforced, unguarded. One leg is propped up, his arm draped loosely over it – comfortable and grounded.
Then, his gaze skates across the gathering and finds yours.
His smile fades, replaced by a tender intensity, the firelight illuminating the sharp planes of his face. His head inclines in a near-imperceptible greeting – a silent reassurance – before Vi'rey leans in again, demanding his attention with a coy smile.
Se’lanu bumps her shoulder against yours, her eyes glittering with something you can't quite place, breaking through the fog of your thoughts.
"Still moon-eyed over him?" she murmurs, voice warm with amusement.
Your eyes break away from his hesitantly, head half turning to meet hers before turning away entirely, suddenly transfixed by the leaf of food in front of you.
“I do not know what you mean,” you deflect.
Se’lanu snorts into her cup of fermented fruit nectar, the sound entirely ungraceful.
"Oh? So you weren’t staring at Neteyam like he hung the stars in the sky?" She leans in, her grin widening as she nudges you again. "Your ears are flicking. You’re a terrible liar."
Across the fire, Vi’rey lets out a peal of laughter – too loud, too performative – as she leans closer to Neteyam, her hand resting possessively on his forearm.
You stab your roasted yovo root a little too aggressively.
Se’lanu’s smirk softens into something more sympathetic. "You should go to him," she murmurs. "Before someone else does."
Your fingers tighten around your eating stick. "He’s surrounded."
"And yet," she says pointedly, "his eyes keep finding you."
A beat passes, the moment heavy with contemplation.
“It’s not like that. I’ve tried – tirelessly – and he hasn't seemed to get the message. That, or he's choosing to ignore it,” you sigh, defeat heavy in your chest. “Even so, he’s not even trying to hide it.”
Your eyes lift to his figure once more. “He seems perfectly content,” you add, the word sharp with sarcasm.
Se’lanu’s shifts with understatement.
"Content?" she scoffs, her brows furrowing in disbelief. "More like tolerating. Have you not seen how he looks at you? It's as if the rest of the world doesn't exist when you're in range."
She gives your shoulder a gentle shake. "Stop being so stubborn, skxawng. Go to him."
Across the fire, Neteyam leans back against a broad tree root, the bark rough against his bare shoulders. The flames cast flickering shadows across his face, sharpening the line of his jaw, the quiet intensity in his golden eyes as they dart – again – to where you sit. He scolds himself.
Vi’rey leans in close, her laughter brushing his ear as she says something meant only for him, bright eyes flicking up to gauge his reaction. When she is met with silence, she notices his absent mindedness.
"You're distracted," she murmurs, too observant for his liking.
Neteyam’s tail flicks once – a barely restrained twitch of irritation. "Just tired," he lies smoothly.
She hums, unconvinced. "Perhaps you need… company to help you relax." Her voice drops, laden with implication.
His fingers tighten around his wooden cup. "Vi’rey." A warning.
She only smiles, undeterred. "Come now, Neteyam. You must know how many would kill to be in my place right now." Her hand slides down to his forearm, possessive. "Why resist what’s inevitable?"
Neteyam’s gaze cuts back to you – watching Se’lanu nudge you, watching your reluctant smile – before he exhales sharply.
“I don't see why I need to rush anything,” he drawls half-heartedly.
"Is that so?" Vi'rey purrs, her eyes glittering in the firelight. "So you're happy just... waiting around?"
He sighs. "I didn't say that."
"Then what is it?" She leans closer, her fingers tracing a maddening path up his shoulder. "What – or who – exactly are you waiting for?"
‘Not you’. The words cut through his mind, sharp and instinctive. His jaw tightens, shoulders stiffening as he pulls back just enough to put space between them.
“Not everything has to be like that,” he growls, low and final, the edge in his voice making it clear a line has been drawn.
Her hand drops, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before it's replaced by a pout. "I don't know why you're being so difficult," she sulks, leaning back against the tree root. "You act like you're not even attracted to me."
Neteyam can't help but roll his eyes, his tail flicking irritably. "That's because I'm not."
Her face falls, "excuse you?," she snaps, voice clipped.
Neteyam exhales sharply through his nose, his patience wearing thin.
"You heard me." His voice drops, low and dangerous – the same tone he uses before a fight. “This ends now."
Vi’rey’s lips part in stunned silence. Around them, the chatter of her friends dims, sensing the shift in tension.
He pushes to his feet in one fluid motion, leaving his cup behind as he strides past Vi’rey’s furious glare, cutting through the crowd with single-minded purpose – straight towards you.
One moment, you're rolling your eyes at Se’lanu’s relentless teasing, the next, a shadow falls over you.
You barely have time to blink before Neteyam’s hand closes around your wrist, hauling you upright with a single, effortless pull. Your chest collides with his, the warmth of him searing through your skin.
Se’lanu barely stifles a laugh as Neteyam tosses a gruff "Borrowing her" over his shoulder, already dragging you away before you can protest.
"Neteyam–!" you hiss, stumbling after him as he weaves through the crowd, his grip unrelenting.
He doesn’t slow until you’re both deep in the shadow of the towering roots, the sounds of the feast distant. Only then does he spin you around, caging you between his arms, the glow of his markings painting your face in flickering blue.
His voice is rough, raw with frustration. "Enough."
You swallow. "Enough what?"
His nostrils flare. "Enough pretending. Enough waiting. Enough—" His fingers dig into your hips. "Dancing around this, around us. Letting everyone else get close to me, talk to me, when it should’ve been you this whole time."
Your pulse roars in your ears.
“You mean you knew?” Your voice sharpens despite yourself, disbelief threading every word. “You knew this whole time – and you just let whatever this was keep happening?”
His breath fans hot over your lips as he leans in – close, so close – and growls, "I’m saying it now."
Your heart stutters despite yourself. You exhale, steadying your voice. “Sorry, no– I’m just… trying to understand.” Your gaze lifts to his, searching. “You’re telling me you felt the same, this whole time, and yet you’ve been entertaining the idea of other girls. As if I wasn’t already yours. As if you aren't mine?”
His grip tightens, his breath coming faster; like he can't believe you're making him say it.
"I was never theirs," he snaps, voice fraying at the edges. "How could I be, when every time I close my eyes, all I see is you?"
His forehead drops against yours, his next words a desperate rasp. "I was waiting for you to claim me."
A shudder runs through you.
“Then consider yourself claimed," you half whisper, half bite – before surging up to finally kiss him.
Neteyam groans, low and unrestrained, as his arms crush you against him like he’s done pretending restraint exists. He takes control of the kiss completely, mouth claiming yours with a heat that borders on desperate; hungry and undeniable. His lips move with purpose, slow and deep, stealing your breath until your head spins and your knees threaten to give way.
The kiss is consuming. His grip tightens, one hand sliding up your spine, fingers splaying possessively as if to remind you exactly where you belong. You can feel the tension he’s been holding back for weeks – months – pouring into this single moment, every brush of his mouth heavy with need.
The world dissolves. No firelight. No voices. Just the heat of his body, the press of his mouth, the quiet, feral sound he makes when you melt into him. This isn’t gentle. This is want, long denied and finally unleashed.
Neteyam breaks the kiss panting, the sound ragged and unsteady as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, breath shuddering against your skin.
"I'm never letting you go again," he rasps, voice hoarse. "Not ever".
His lips find the sensitive spot under your ear, and you shiver.
"Good," you manage. "Because I wasn't planning on letting you go either."
You feel him smirk into the skin of your shoulder, nibbling gently at the curve. His fingers slide down your waist, tracing idle patterns across your hip, before pulling back to tug you gently.
He guides you along winding roots and well-worn paths, the forest bathed in a gentle bioluminescent glow that makes your star-like freckles shimmer softly against your skin. The air is rich with the scent of damp earth, heavy and intimate, carrying a quiet tension. His hands remain firmly intertwined with yours, steady and warm, as he moves through the canopy with effortless grace.
The Tree of Souls is as enchanting as ever, glowing purple tendrils enticing as they sway gently in the hush of the night, each pulse of light echoing like a living heartbeat. The air hums here – thick with memory and something quietly sacred – wrapping around you both as you step into its glow.
Neteyam slows, fingers still laced with yours, as if reluctant to let the moment rush past. The luminescence paints him in soft violet and blue, catching along his cheekbones and the curve of his shoulders, and for a breath you simply stand there together, bathed in Eywa’s light. The forest seems to lean in, listening.
Neteyam doesn’t wait. He’s on you – mouth searing hot against yours, hands already pulling at the ties of your loincloth. Neteyam’s lips leave yours only to trace the curve of your jaw, teeth scraping lightly, testing, before his tongue soothes the sting. His hands roam, unhurried, mapping every dip and curve of your body beneath him as if committing you to memory.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” he admits, voice thick as his fingers brush the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “How you’d sound. How you’d feel.”
You arch into his touch as his palm skims down your stomach, dipping teasingly below your waistband – so close – before retreating to grip your hip instead.
You pant breathlessly, grinding against him. His mouth is on your collarbone, kissing, biting, worshiping every inch of skin he can. You gasp as his fingers slide between your thighs, finding you already slick for him, always for him, and his groan vibrates against your lips.
“Eywa, you’re perfect.” His touch is deliberate, circling your clit with agonizing slowness until your thighs tremble.
“Shh.” He nips at your earlobe. “Let me take my time.”
And he does, drawing out every gasp, every shudder, until you’re writhing beneath him, desperate for more. Neteyam’s lips trail down your throat, slow and deliberate, his hot breath ghosting over your skin as his other hand slides its way up your torso, gently kneading at your breasts. You moan softly.
He grunts against your pulse, voice like dark honey, rough and intoxicating. His teeth graze your collarbone, not enough to hurt, just enough to make you gasp. ““Shiit, baby… so eager for me, trembling for me already?”
His movements speed up, sleek fingers putting more pressure on your nub. His fingers ghost over your hole enticingly, aching and clenching around nothing, leaving you gasping with anticipation. His golden eyes are locked on yours, drinking in every twitch of your expression.
“Tell me,” he rasps, thumb pressing just a little harder. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You,” you gasp, hands fisting in his hair. “Always you.”
His growl of approval vibrates through your chest as he finally slides two fingers inside you, curling them just right.
He lingers a moment longer, nothing but the sounds of your whimpers and his digits pumping in and out of your heat fill the cooling air. His breath comes ragged between kisses, voice wrecked.
“Need to taste you, honey.”
Neteyam’s grip tightens on your thighs as he drags you down to the mossy canopy floor, his eyes burning with hunger. “Spread for me,” he growls – and you do, trembling as rips off your loincloth before settling between your legs, his breath hot against your soaked folds.
He doesn’t dive in immediately, he taunts, nipping at your inner thigh, running his tongue over your sensitive skin while his fingers continue to pump lazily inside you.
“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, dragging his nose through your slick. “All for me.”
Then, his tongue licks a slow, torturous stripe up your center, and you jolt, a broken cry escaping your lips.
He chuckles darkly, gripping your hips to keep you still as he does it again – slower this time, savoring the way you squirm.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me hear you.”
His mouth seals over your clit, sucking hard, and your vision whites out. His fingers curl, thrusting in time with his tongue, dragging you mercilessly toward the edge.
Then he pulls back, leaving you empty, and you whimper in protest.
Neteyam’s smirk is downright sinful as he rises over you, his cock pressing against your soaked entrance.
“Now,” he pants, “you can come on my tongue, or you can come on my cock. Choose.”
Your eyes meet his glazed over ones, amber irises now almost non-existent, pupils blown wide with lust and something deeper – dangerous, primal.
“I–,” you begin, choking on your own need, “Need to feel you. All of you.”
Neteyam hooks his arms under your thighs, dragging you flush against his groin. His hands pin your wrists above your head as he removes his own garments, dragging the thick head of his cock through your soaked folds teasingly, making you whine.
"You want it, baby?" His voice is raw, wrecked. "Gonna fuck you so deep you forget everyone else.”
You buck your hips, desperate, but he holds you down, grinding against your clit just to hear you sob.
His eyes soften slightly, before flicking between your flushed face and the braided, hair-like appendage resting against the mossy bed. The delicate tendrils curve invitingly, drawing him in with quiet allure.
Neteyam lifts his queue over his shoulder, guiding it toward yours with a feather-light touch, the movement careful and deliberate. You can feel the pounding of your heart, can feel the way his breath stutters as his pulse begins to slow.
He whispers something in Na'vi under his breath – a prayer or plea, you're not quite sure – then, gently, "May I?"
You shiver as his words hit you. His voice is gruff, but it's the sincerity in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat.
"Yes," you whisper, voice breaking. "Please."
He doesn't need to be told twice, the second the word leaves your lips he's surging forward, capturing your mouth in a deep kiss, all consuming and sickenly sweet, as he connects your queues.
A wave of intimacy washes over you both, a heady mix of pleasure and love that feels infinite and yet never enough. Tsaheylu – mates for life. The truth hits you as you open your eyes; he is yours, just as completely as you are his.
The bond tugs at your cores, deep and hot.
Then, without warning, he slams into you with one brutal thrust, sheathing himself to the hilt. Your back arches off the ground as he fills you, his groan guttural against your neck.
"Shit baby, you’re so tight–"
You claw at his shoulders, nails digging in as he pistons into you, each stroke hitting deeper, harder. His breath comes in ragged bursts, his moans unchecked.
"Fuck– this pussy–" His hips snap forward, relentless. "Made for me. Only me."
His hand wraps around your throat, not squeezing, just holding and claiming as his pace turns brutal.
"Gonna breed you right here," he snarls, voice breaking. "Gonna ruin you for anyone else."
You cry out as pleasure coils tight, his cock angled perfectly, hitting that spongy spot with every thrust. The bond pulses between you, amplifying every sense and emotion.
"Come for me," he demands. "Wanna feel you squeeze me."
And you do, shattering around him, his name a scream on your lips as he chases his own release.
"Fuck– yours, all yours!”
He comes with a roar, hips stuttering as he spills deep inside you, his body collapsing over yours in a sweaty, shuddering heap.
Neteyam keeps you close as he rolls onto his back, holding you snug against his chest as he brushes a few sweaty locks from your face, your queues still connected. His eyes are soft now, gaze adoring, a stark contrast to the dark hunger that had consumed him just moments before.
His fingers trail gently down your arm, tracing idle patterns across your skin as he tries – and fails – to stifle a yawn.
"You okay?" he murmurs, voice still a little rough.
You smile, snuggling closer. "I should be asking you."
He chuckles lowly, his words slightly hoarse but attentive. "Seriously baby, I didn't hurt you?" he smiles at you softly, "wasn't too rough?"
His fingertips trail down your side, checking for any tension as his eyes search yours. Always protective, even now.
“Never," you murmur, catching his hand and pressing it to your lips. “You were perfect."
A slow, lazy grin spreads across his face, smug almost, but with that undercurrent of relief. "Good." He kisses your forehead, lingering.
"Rest, paskalin," he murmurs, arms tightening around you. "I've got you."
And as your eyelids grow heavy, his heartbeat steady against your ear and the bond settling into something warmer, gentler, you believe him wholeheartedly.
haha don't look at me guys i'm blushing, this is my first smutty fic! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it <3