#atwow drabble

[gvcci-bxby]

"It was nice to meet you"

pairing: neteyam x omatikaya reader

word count: 280 words

summary: you and neteyam meet for the first time and he is blinded by your beauty and instantly intrigued.

warnings: none, just fluff!

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Neteyam couldn’t believe his eyes; he had never seen anyone as beautiful as you. You stood facing each other, your parents talking to each other. They had suggested that it would be nice for you and Neteyam to be introduced to each other since you are the same age. Neteyam hoped his parents wouldn’t ask him any questions or prompt him to talk: he was too preoccupied by taking in your face, your beauty, to follow the conversation that was going on around him. 

Neteyam knew he wanted to get to know you when he saw you. Something about you interested him, pulling him into your world and being. Neteyam was in a trance, bewildered on how beautiful face like yours could exist. ‘Eywa took her time on y/n’ he thought to himself. 

You were intrigued as well, trying to make your interest in him much more lowkey than he was. You avoided Neteyam’s gaze; holding eye-contact with him had made your mind go blank and you feared what you might say or do under his study. Neteyam, you thought, was so handsome, so tall, and you wondered how many girls he had running after him. 

Unbeknownst to Neteyam, the conversation was dying down and you and your parents were heading back to their home. Neteyam was thrown out of his thoughts when he heard you softly giggle, waving your small hand in his face.  “It was nice meeting you, Neteyam,” you said, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

Neteyam smiled, already looking forward to the next time he could see you. “It was nice meeting you as well, (y/n). I’ll be seeing you around the village.” 

[th3w1ltedpe0ny]

||ꀸꀤꉣꌗ|| Rotxo X Human!Reader W̴I̴P̴ S̴N̴E̴A̴K̴P̴E̴A̴K̴!!

Warnings: Inward thoughtout PDA, Sweet!reader , Perv!Rotxo~♡

Summary: You were one of the Sully's good family friends, grew up just as Spider had; only the differences were you were always much fuller than usual twatutes around you. When the Sully's ventured to the Awa'atlu Islands, you came along as Kiris extra life support due to Spider getting taken. Once you finally got allowed into the village after much heavy convincing on Jake's part, you noticed eyes are always on you nowadays. After a hard day of work, you decided to take some time away from it all on the beach where you bumped into a familiar face that usually is accompanying the clan leaders son.

[The teal free diver often felt this surge of emotion, misplaced when it would usually arrive, and tantalizing when your very being lingered a hundred yards away. It was regular when they'd become active, from the very first moment he'd laid his eyes on your soft and small and delicate twatute body which was cover head to toe in what he would have considered traditional sky people's clothing. It made his tail curl and hands clammy when your beautiful name would be spoken, whispered upon dry lips and questioning conversations, his body further turning to putty upon seeing you as though going a day without doing so was like a torture given as punishment.

"Vrrtep!" He found himself calling out for you when you'd converse with other Na'vi, your mask covered face reflecting the sunlight that always beat down on you as you laughed at what another free diver had said. How he longed to be on the receiving end of your smiles, your words so lightly and politely spoken, the flirtatious and coy smirks that you would throw towards challenges; he wanted to be your challenge, a trophy as great as the head of an Akula in the end... that way, you could mount him anywhere you pleased... As much as that tiny body could, just writhing above him in a feverish venture to bring yourself pleasure and to bask in the warmth of one another. "Yes, Rotxo?" You'd always say it like that, sound nearly inaudible to others around you, but just enough for only him to hear, just for him.

-

Now was different, how? It was different due to your acceptance into the clan as an ally, now able to freely roam through the village of cloth-woven streets as the water rose and dropped with ripples of excitement with each exit and entrance of the Na'vi around into it. Tsahik Ronal had graciously decided to burn your hideous twatute attire, opting with great skill to produce you a beautiful new set of Metkayina tewngs and form fitted tops for you to wear regularly. Your usual was the green seaweed and ocean grass braided tewng that paired to a beige woven cloth top which hugged your chest firmly and kept all in place. The set regrettably covered more than what the people wore, but that was to be expected with your odd and soft body curving and accentuating every new top you'd try so desperately to keep from shifting every time you'd come out of the water, the way you always reached to adjust yourself as your breast nearly falls from its confines, he was always right there though, ready in wait for just a glimpse as you pull out of the water, tanned legs flexing as they swung onto the cloth walkway with the help of him of course, making your movements just wide enough for him to see the outline of your wet folds peeking against the loincloth. "Rotxo, are you coming?" You'd call out to him, feet bounding away after the rest of the group as he climbed up and chased after you and your jiggly curves that he yearned to touch even more.]

[little-box-of-autism]

Does anyone else remember a drabble where Quaritch and Lyle help Neteyam after he is shot because Spider asks?

I remember it, but I can't find it and it's driving me insane.

[d0llcuries]

HIIII 🫶 i wanted to ask if i could request a neteyam x omatikaya readerrr where she’s caring for him while he’s healing from the bullet so it’s like just a bit after the war (bc in my head he didn’t die 😔😔😔) and she’s checking up on him making sure he’s okay distracting him from pain/the situation hopefully that makes some sense just some cute stuff like that hehe. (im delusional 💓)

THANKS BABE

KISS YOU BETTER

pairing(s): neteyam x fem!na'vi reader

summary: healing is a process. a slow, lonely and frightful one. you do what you can to be there for him, forever thankful to eywa that he still has breath in his lungs.

author's note: i am the world's fattest dillydallyer, i fear. bear with me folks please and thankss!!

neteyam’s chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, his skin too warm under your palm where his heartbeat drums, faint, beneath layers of gauze and healing paste. the evening light, watery and red through the fibers of the marui pod, filters down over him, casting a glow that makes his blue skin look brighter.

a faint lustre of sweat lies at his temples. you can’t tell if it is the heat or the strain of healing that makes him look fragile, but it is unsettling. it feels like months have passed since that day. the bullet. the blood. the scream that ripped from your throat like you could tear the world in half with it.

he's been in and out of it for days. sometimes, he wakes with a shudder, his fingers twitching as if he’s reaching for his knife or his bow or something to hold onto before his muscles relax and he lays dormant once again. you wonder, not for the first time, what he dreams of now. if he’s still out there, somewhere between life and death, between the stars and the ground, or if he’s here, with you, feeling the soft pressure of your fingers on his skin, the warmth of your breath on his neck. you wonder if he feels the way your hands shake, if he knows how scared you are, even though you don’t say it.

“yawne,” he murmurs, voice raspy, cracking around the edges. it’s the only word he seems to have the strength for lately. my love. you could hear it a thousand times, and still, it would twist your insides in knots, the feeling churning beneath your ribs like roots digging into soil that’s too dry to give way. he says it like it is his only bind to the world.

the air inside the tent is sticky, thick, a little too sweet with the musk of old herbs and the iron tang of blood. you can taste it on your tongue as you breathe, cloying, like when you bite too hard into a mango and the juice drips down your chin, half-spoiled, but still too good to stop. the world is settling outside the night drawing in like a slow breath and inside, the hush of it, the weight of it, sinks into your skin, pools behind your eyes, heavy and aching.

his lashes cast long shadows across his cheeks, his lips chapped and parted as he pulls in uneven breaths. you move carefully, your hands trembling just a little as they skim over his ribs, up to his face, cradling his jaw in your palms. he feels fragile. your body aches in ways you can’t describe, the knots in your muscles from sleeping beside him, always curled up in awkward positions, always watchful. your knees are sore from kneeling too long, your neck stiff from leaning against the wooden posts of the tent. but all that discomfort it feels so small, so inconsequential, in the face of his suffering.

you stroke his hair back, letting the braids slip through your fingers one by one. the roots are damp, curls matted against his scalp. you hum a little under your breath, some half-forgotten melody your mother used to sing when you were small, when the days felt longer and the nights less lonely. the sound barely reaches your ears, swallowed by the thick air, but neteyam stirs, just a fraction, his lips twitching like he's trying to smile, trying to remember how.

dried blood like rust staining the fresh bandages you’ve wrapped around him. your hands know the routine now. the careful unraveling of cloth, the soft hiss of his breath when the cool air touches the wound, the gentle pat of the herbs pressed to his skin. you move like you’re in a trance, like this is a dream, and maybe it is. maybe none of this is real.

you press another kiss to his lips this time, barely more than a whisper of touch, but it feels like a promise. i’m here. i’m staying.

you trace the lines of his collarbone, the curve of his jaw, your touch light, as if you’re afraid he’ll shatter under your hands. you won’t leave me, you think, pressing your lips to the hollow of his throat, you can’t.

you kiss him again, soft, featherlight kisses that brush his skin like a promise, like a prayer. and with each one, you hope—this one will heal him. this one will be enough. but hope is like the wind, you think. it slips through your fingers no matter how tightly you hold on.

so you lie there, listening to the sound of his breathing, the faint rustle of the tent, the hum of the forest, and you wonder how many more kisses it will take before he’s whole again.

his presence is a tether, thin as it may be, binding you here. holding you together, even though the world outside feels as though it has unraveled completely. you sit beside him, legs curled under you, skin tingling with exhaustion. your bones feel like they might fold in on themselves, but none of that matters. wake up.

a sound escapes him. his lips move—just the faintest twitch, but it is something. he is here.

“neteyam,” you whisper. saying his name and it aches to let it out.

his lips part, a dry rasp of breath slipping through, and you reach for the gourd beside you, lifting it to his mouth. the water pools in the curve of his lips, slow and steady.

“drink,” you murmur, your voice catching on the word.

he drinks, the water moving down his throat in quiet gulps, each one easing the tightness there, smoothing the lines of strain from his face. you watch the way his throat moves, the tension softening just a little. when he is done, you lower the gourd, your thumb brushing against his lips, catching the drops that linger there.

your breath catches in your throat as neteyam’s eyes flutter open, the softest sliver of gold peeking through the lashes you have been watching so closely, day after day. your heart leaps before you can even stop it, a wild, untamed thing in your chest, and you do not know whether to laugh, cry, or scream. your hands hover above him, trembling with the need to touch him, to pull him into you, but you stop yourself, knowing how fragile he still is. every fiber of your being is vibrating with joy, your body a live wire of emotions, but you hold yourself back, afraid of overwhelming him, of hurting him.

“nete!” you breathe, the word coming out as half-laughter, half-sob, and you are trembling with the effort it takes not to throw yourself into his arms. your fingers brush his cheek, feather-light, as if he might disappear if you press too hard. the ache in your chest is too much, too bright, and all you can do is smile down at him, wide and breathless, blinking back the tears that blur your vision. he is here, really here, and you do not know how to contain it, how to quiet the storm of happiness that surges through you. you lean down, your forehead just barely touching his, and whisper, “you are awake!” your voice shaking with the weight of all the things you cannot say, all the joy you cannot express without breaking apart.

“you should be resting,” he says, and the sound of it makes your breath catch again. you have heard this voice so many times, but now it feels new, fragile.

you let out a soft laugh, half surprise, half relief, your fingers drifting through his hair, catching the strands that have come loose from his braids. “so should you,” you whisper, feeling the way his body hums beneath your touch, the way his presence pulls you in like the tide, slow and unrelenting.

he makes a small sound, something between a sigh and a hum, and it vibrates through your bones, quiet and deep. his hand tightens on yours, just a little, but enough. enough to remind you that he is here, that you are tethered to him still.

“i missed you,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them, too heavy with meaning. it is not just the missing of these last few days, these long, aching hours. it is the missing of something bigger, something that stretches across time. something that you cannot name.

he hums again, and you feel it in the space between your ribs, that soft agreement. you missed him too, even though you were never really gone. his breathing slows, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there is peace on his face.

“you are going to get better,” you whisper, as if saying it out loud might make it true. as if the words might stitch him back together, might pull him from the edge of whatever dark place he has been hovering near. you press your lips to his brow, kissing the smooth skin there, untouched by the pain that has tried to claim him.

another kiss, this one softer, to the tip of his nose, then his jaw, your lips trailing down to the place where his pulse beats steadily beneath the surface of his skin. he is still here.

you press your mouth to that spot, feeling the rhythm of his life under your lips, and you think, “you know,” you murmur against his skin, “if kissing you could heal you faster, you would be running by now.”

his chest moves with a low sound, something between a chuckle and a breath, and it fills the space between you like music. it makes you smile, makes your heart stutter and swell, and you nuzzle into him, your face pressed against the warmth of his neck, your hand splayed over his chest, trying to anchor yourself in this moment.

“you are doing a good job, then,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, but it is full of something light, something playful.

your heart leaps at the sound, and you lift your head to look at him, to see the faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. his eyes are still closed, but there is life in him now, a flicker of the boy you know—the boy who makes you laugh, the one who makes you feel like the world is not such a terrible place after all.

“then i will keep doing it,” you say, pressing another kiss to his cheek, your smile wide and soft, full of too much feeling.

“do not stop,” he murmurs, and it is almost playful, almost light, and you can feel your heart swelling again, pushing against your chest like it might burst.

you press your forehead to his, your body melting into his warmth, and the world outside feels so far away now, like it cannot reach you here.

“i will not,” you promise, the words slipping from your lips like a vow, like something sacred.

the silence returns, but it is full now, heavy with the weight of everything you have not said, everything you do not need to say. his breathing steadies, slow and rhythmic, and your body sinks into his, your exhaustion finally easing, replaced by something softer. something that feels like peace.

and in this quiet, in this small, fragile moment, you feel it—the hope that has been hiding in the corners of your heart. you feel it blooming, slow and tentative, but there, growing in the space between you.

because he is still here. and you are still here. and that, somehow, is enough.

the sun was unforgiving, but you dug your fingers into the sand anyway, letting it gather beneath your nails, small grains cool against the heat that pressed down on your skin. the ocean sang before you, waves rolling softly toward the shore, brushing against your toes before retreating, almost shy in their touch. you tilted your face up toward the sky, letting the light cascade over you, trying to soak in its warmth, trying to let it chase away the heavy ache in your chest.

you didn’t know how long you’d been sitting there, but it didn’t matter. you came here often now, to this spot just beyond the village, where you could hear the water breathing, feel the sand shift beneath you, and pretend, for a moment, that everything was right. you dug your fingers in deeper, the sensation grounding you, pulling you back from the thoughts that threatened to drag you under.

neteyam was healing. slowly, carefully, but the wounds were still fresh, the memory of his blood staining your hands still too sharp. there were nights you woke with that same metallic scent in your nose, the image of him falling, so still and quiet, burned behind your eyelids. even now, as the sun beat down on you, your mind circled back to it—over and over.

you curled your fingers into fists, the sand slipping through them, leaving nothing but the feel of it sticking to your palms. you hated this. this waiting, this stillness. but you hated it more for him. neteyam wasn’t made to lie still. he was built for movement, for the hunt, for the wild freedom of the forest and sky. now, he was trapped. and in a way, so were you.

your eyes flickered toward the horizon, where the sea stretched out in endless blue. there was a celebration tonight—the metkayina’s way of welcoming a new season. you remembered the last one, how the village had come alive, vibrant and wild. you’d danced with neteyam then, under the stars, laughing as the ocean crashed around your feet. everything had felt light, easy. before.

now, the thought of going felt… wrong. how could you join in their joy when so much of yours was tethered to him, back in that marui, lying still and quiet? how could you celebrate without him by your side?

you pushed yourself up slowly, your body resisting the movement, as if it too was reluctant to leave this spot. you wiped the sand from your hands, shaking your head at your own thoughts. no neteyam, no joy. it was simple, really. without him, nothing felt complete.

the marui was bathed in soft light when you returned, the warm glow of the afternoon filtering in through the slats. it was quieter now, the village settling into the rhythm of evening. inside, neteyam lay where you left him, though his eyes fluttered open as you stepped closer. kiri and tuk were still there, but kiri shot you a small, tired smile, relief evident in the way her shoulders sagged.

“thank you,” she murmured, barely audible, as she stood, tugging tuk up gently. tuk looked up at you, her eyes bright as she offered a tiny smile, her fingers brushing your leg as she passed by. “he’s all yours.”

you nodded, giving her a grateful look before she slipped out of the marui, tuk trailing behind her, the sound of their soft footsteps disappearing into the distance. and then there was only the quiet. the kind of quiet that settled easily between you and neteyam, comfortable, familiar, as if it had always been this way.

you knelt beside him, your eyes tracing the lines of his face, studying the way the light played over his skin. his breathing was slow, steady, and for a moment, all you could do was watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers twitched slightly as if he was reaching for something just out of grasp.

“they are gone?” his voice broke the silence, soft and low, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“they are gone,” you confirmed, your hand instinctively reaching for his cheek, fingers brushing over the warmth of his skin. it was a simple touch, one you found yourself craving more and more, needing the reassurance of his presence, of his life beneath your fingertips.

he leaned into your touch, his smile widening just a fraction, though it didn’t quite chase away the exhaustion that lingered in his eyes. “good.”

for a moment, you just sat there, letting the quiet stretch between you, not needing to fill it with words. you had said everything already, in the days following his injury, in the long hours spent by his side, watching over him while he healed. the words weren’t important. this was. being here. being with him.

the soft hum of the village outside broke the stillness, the faint sounds of preparation for the celebration beginning to drift into the marui. laughter echoed from somewhere far off, the rhythm of drums picking up in the distance, the promise of festivity hanging in the air. but you didn’t care for it, not tonight. not when neteyam was still here, still recovering. the idea of leaving him behind, of being anywhere without him, felt impossible.

“the festival,” he murmured suddenly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. his eyes opened fully now, locking onto yours with a quiet intensity. “you should go.”

your brow furrowed in confusion, tilting your head slightly as you searched his face. “why?”

“because you should,” he replied, as though the answer was obvious, his gaze flickering with something you couldn’t quite name. “you have not been out… you have not done anything in forever.”

“i do not need to,” you said simply, shrugging as though the thought had never occurred to you. because it hadn’t.

he shifted slightly, discomfort flashing briefly across his face, though he hid it well. “you should nkt miss out because of me. it is not fair.”

you blinked, the frustration flaring just beneath the surface. how could he think that? how could he even suggest that any of this was his fault, or that you were missing out on anything at all? he was here. and that was enough.

“neteyam,” you began softly, your fingers brushing over the curve of his cheekbone, trying to soothe the tension you saw building there. “i have fun wherever you are. it does not matter what is happening outside.”

his frown deepened, like he didn’t quite believe you, like he was still carrying the weight of guilt for everything that had happened—for being hurt, for making you stay. but you didn’t press him further. you knew he needed time to understand. you weren’t missing anything. the world could celebrate all it wanted outside; you’d remain here, tethered to him, with him.

the rest of the day unfolded in small moments. the kind that didn’t need words to fill them. you stayed by his side, sometimes talking, other times letting the soft sounds of the village drift in from outside, the lull of the ocean a constant, gentle presence. he watched you in those quiet moments, his eyes following you as you moved around the marui, his gaze lingering as though he needed the reassurance that you were still there, still with him.

the sun was low in the sky now, casting everything in hues of gold and pink. the sounds of the festival had grown louder, laughter mingling with the rhythmic beat of drums, the clinking of shells as decorations were strung along the walkways. the energy outside was palpable, the village alive with celebration, but inside your marui, the quiet remained.

neteyam shifted again, his body protesting the movement, though he masked the discomfort as best he could. his eyes flickered toward the entrance of the marui, the faintest trace of music filtering through the air.

he turned back to you, his gaze more focused this time, more determined. “go get something to eat.”

you blinked, your brows knitting together as you stared at him. “what?”

“food,” he repeated, his tone light but insistent. “from the festival. go grab some.”

narrowing your eyes, you studied his face. he hadn’t let you out of his sight for more than a few minutes in the past days, and now he was practically urging you to leave. “what are you planning?”

“nothing,” he replied. “i am hungry. go. please?”

your lips pressed into a thin line, clearly unconvinced, but you rose to your feet anyway, giving him one last look before slipping out of the marui. the air outside was cooler now, the night settling in around you, and you could feel the pulse of the village as you made your way toward the center, where the celebration was in full swing. your mind already drifted back to neteyam, wondering what he was up to, why he was so adamant about sending you away. it wasn’t like him. not now, not when he needed you.

the food spread along the long, low tables is almost too much to look at, piles of bright fruits and roasted fish, grains and herbs twisted into fragrant shapes, everything vibrant and rich, as though the night itself has bloomed into this feast. your fingers brush over the cool surface of a carved bowl, feeling the delicate grooves, the weight of the work that went into every small detail. you carefully fill your basket, trying not to disturb too much of the display, slipping a few extra pieces of fruit between the flatbread and smoked meats, thinking of tuk’s bright eyes when she sees what you have brought back. the thought brings a smile to your lips, but it is fleeting, tempered by the pull of responsibility that sits low in your stomach. neteyam is still weak, and you know he will not eat unless you bring him something.

“you are not staying?” tsireya’s voice is soft but lilting, a note of surprise carried by the night air as she steps toward you, her hair catching in the lantern light, strands of it glowing like spun copper. her eyes are wide and kind, her arms laden with shells strung together on thin threads, swaying with the easy grace of the ocean. she leans in, “you are always leaving so quickly. you should enjoy yourself tonight.”

you smile at her, tucking the basket closer to your side. “i wish i could,” you say, and it is the truth, though it feels like a half-formed thing on your tongue, like something left out in the sun too long. even as you speak, you feel the quiet distance between you and the festival, like you are watching it all from the other side of a glass wall. tsireya’s face softens, a flicker of understanding passing through her eyes, but before she can say anything else, tuk comes bounding up, her small hands tugging at the hem of your skirt, her face lit up with excitement.

“you have to stay for the dancing!” tuk’s voice is bright, her breath coming quick from her running. she looks up at you with such earnestness that it tugs at something in your chest, the way only a child can, her wide eyes reflecting the shimmering lights around you like she is holding the stars themselves. tsireya gives you a look, one that is all gentle encouragement, a soft nudge in the direction of the night’s festivities, and for a moment, just a moment, you consider it. staying. letting the music and laughter carry you for just a little while, letting the world slip away for a few hours. but then the weight of the basket shifts in your hands again, grounding you back to reality, and you know you cannot. not tonight.

“another time,” you say, your voice softer now, tinged with a quiet apology you hope they will understand. you brush a hand over tuk's cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin. “i promise.”

you returned as quickly as you could, stepping back into the marui with the scent of roasted fish and fruit clinging to the air. but the moment you walked inside, the food forgotten in your hands, you froze.

neteyam was standing.

his body was trembling slightly, one hand gripping the wall for support, but he was standing, his eyes bright with determination, his grin wide and boyish as he watched your stunned reaction.

“neteyam,” you whispered, barely able to speak, the shock freezing you in place. “what are you doing?”

“we are dancing,” he said simply, his voice soft but firm, as though this was the most natural thing in the world. as though this wasn’t a miracle.

you shook your head, taking a hesitant step forward, torn between wanting to scold him for pushing himself too far and being so overwhelmed with love for him you thought you might burst. “you should not be standing. you—”

but before you could finish, he reached for you, his hand catching yours gently, pulling you closer. “come on. just for a while.”

the music from the festival floated through the air, the soft, distant beat of the drums like a heartbeat, slow and steady. you let him guide you, your hands finding their way to his waist, careful not to press too hard, not to disturb the bandages still wrapped around his middle.

he moved slowly, his steps tentative but deliberate, and you moved with him, letting the rhythm carry you both, swaying gently in the small space of the marui. his breath was warm against your skin, his forehead resting against yours as you danced together, the world outside falling away.

“this is all i need,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “just you.”

you pressed your face into his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the warmth of his skin against yours. your heart swelled in your chest, the love you felt for him spilling over, too big to contain.

“you are all i need too,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, your arms tightening around him.

and as the faint music played on, you stayed there, swaying together in the dim light of the marui, the world outside forgotten, everything you needed right here, in this moment, in each other.

[nyrrwrites]

✮⋆˙ 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐤𝐲 ( n. sully )

✮⋆˙ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : neteyam ✘ omaticayan!reader ✮⋆˙ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.3k+ ✮⋆˙ 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 : fluff!! heavy descriptions of affection & intimacy (not explicitly!) , themes of war/burden ( from neteyam ), mild angst & vulnerability, deep yearning, we're just lovesick and missing neteyam over here <3 ✮⋆˙ 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐲 : @cafekitsune !!!

Him.

Neteyam.

His name is not just an appellation —it is a celestial phenomenon, something too vast, too consuming to be contained in mere syllables. It is an eclipse, a supernova, a ruffle between the flickering stars. It is the slow-burning fire that never dies, the heartbeat beneath the steady pulse of the universe. It is the way he exists, not softly, nor fleetingly but fiercely, with the entirety of eternity carved into the sinew of his being.

And tonight, he exists around you.

The skies stretch in its vastness, velvet blacks, deep violets, and fractured indigos, speckled with silver lights that watch but never speak. The fires burn low in the distance, scattered embers smoldering beneath the bones of the Omaticayastronghold, dusting the treetops with the faintest glimmers of bioluminescent longing.

But none of it, none of it, scorches the way he does.

Neteyam is warmth for he harbors the heat of distant suns across foreign galaxies. He is gravity for he tethers you to the ground beneath your joined figures. He is the sculptured ember of a dying fire and the soaring inferno of a newborn star. He is the steady thrum of a heartbeat in the hush of the night. 

His flesh, deep and rich azures, streaked with bold, winding stripes, transforms into glaciered sapphires beneath nature's light, a constellation of the cosmos itself splattered across his canvas.

And you are here, tangled within him.

Pressed against his chest, where the rhythmic cadence of his heart beats beneath your flitting ear — strong, fervent, a palpitation so deep, so ancient, it feels like the pulse of Eywa's child. The sound deeply lulls you, swaddling itself around your tired limbs, slipping beneath your skin until it becomes one with you.

His arms are a fortress, a place where no harm can ever reach you. They cage you in: strong, certain, protecting. 

Devoted fingers drift in tender spirals along the dip of your waist, delicate and leisured, not finding the necessity to hold tighter in order to be known —he is already there, perceived, already part of you. He maps the familiar terrains of your body; contours, planes, curves, no line left untraced.

“Yawne…”

A murmur. Aerated, deep, husked. Voice a tide of burning honey flooding your senses, dribbling down the curve of your throat and sinking into your very essence, not just heard but consumed.

The moment hangs in fragile suspension — almost as if the very air between you could shatter with one wrong exhale. There is something tender lodged beneath your ribs, your heart aching and bare, pressing subtle to compacting against bone and breath. It makes you feel full and hollow all at once, and it swells to the point of breaking and spewing wide open, ready to become.

Because this, him, Neteyam is everything. 

He is fragranced of rain-soaked forests, whirled with sun-warmed leaves, wafted in dusks and dove-hued rivers.

Your own digits wander over him, taking in the shift of pure muscle beneath the flawless blue flesh. He shivers beneath your touch — just the tiniest of tremor one perhaps would not be able to decipher. But you.

He is beautiful. Fuck, he's breathtaking.

"My beautiful boy," you always used to croon to him. Back before scarlets and conflicts tainted your young souls' childhood. He would always attempt to fight against it, the nickname, though his body's reaction to your voice uttering it rendered his actions pointless.

The burnished glow of his stare rests upon you, half-lidded and ineffable when you speak those three words. His eyes — twin suns, flaring golds, liquefied brilliance poured down on you, smolders and captures breaths in its silent intensity.

And oh, how you burn beneath that gaze.

Neteyam.

The quiet protector. The firstborn son with the weight of the whole world sunk between his scorching shoulder blades. You can feel it beneath your hands — the knots in his muscles, the tension clawed in the hollow of his spine. He carries everything, only to realize, here, in this moment, that he does not have to carry it alone.

You sink into him without questioning. Without pondering. His arms tighten — his breath cutting for a split second — before he lets you have him.

No one has ever simply let you have them before.

There is reverence in his touch, palm finding a niche on the nape of your neck, large and gentle. Fingers weave through the stray curls and cascades of braids. His thumb's pad strokes sweetly along your jaw and over your neck, coaxing the tension from your figure until you're a little more over the statement of just pudding in his hands.

He soothed you without even trying, without even the raw knowledge of how much you have longed to be touched like this — to be loved without needing to plead for it.

He is not a gentle man — no, not always. The world has not allowed him to be, for hands were built to fight, to protect, to bleed for those who cannot bleed for themselves.

But when those same hands find you, when they follow along the bent of your waist beneath the moonlight, when they knot into your hair,

They are not the hands of a warrior then. They are the hands of a man who would kneel at your feet if only to press his mouth to your blemishes, to taste every sorrow and wound the world has seared into your being and make it his own.

Your chest flutters — soft and overbearing, such a peculiar join— because you are not used to being tended to. 

“Sleep, ma y/n,” he insists one more with a sweet voice that is so soft, afraid he’ll break you if he speaks any louder.

But how can you sleep when he is the one keeping you awake?

How can you sleep when he is fire wrapped in flesh — the churn of some faraway galaxy buried beneath skin and sinew and breath?

Solace and yearning collide — warmth and ache, safety and hunger all in one being. He gives without asking. He holds without keeping. He touches without taking.

Your fingers find the stripes etched across his ribs, tracing them with your own overpowering worship. Blue melting into darker blue —linking with the faint bioluminescence of Eywa’s kiss. His skin is burning threads of silk beneath your touch, every inch of him carved by the hands of the Great Mother herself.

You feel him shiver again with the added physical contact, and you beam at how his heart vividly stutters beneath your ear. 

His exhale kisses your forehead as you nose his cheek, knotting your fingers between his. "Sleep with me, my love."

His breath stirs against your temple, as if the whole world could fall away and he would still hold you like this. But what gnaws at his bare mind is, will he always be granted to do such a beautiful thing?

You know his dreams are plagued with war.

You feel it in his breathing patterns alone — the weight of everything he carries, even now, even in sleep.

But he has never neglected your words, your queries, your pleas, your commands. The universe could burn down right before you and you’d still be safe here. In one another's embrace, heat.

He does not let go, and he attempts to sleep for you as you shift in his arms. And this time you cradle his head to your neck. Let his face find solace in the crevice there, breathing you in, letting the heat increase tenfold.

Not two halves of one whole, not tethered by tsaheylu alone. You are one soul — created from the same breath, and from the exact heartbeat as he felt yours synchronizing with his own beneath his cheek.

if fate were cruel, if time were unkind, if the world dared to pull him from your grasp he would find his way back.

Because love like this does not end. It does not break or bend, nor does it fade with the tides or crumble with the years. It remained.

Neteyam firmly, fervently believes he would spend eternity past his life chasing this, you across every star, every ocean, every sky, every brewing cosmos.

You know — you are more than aware — that he would still find a way to hold, to reach, find you.

Because that is who Neteyam is. And because you are his.

[plooto]

lo’ak is such a pussy eater . you think he’s doing this for your pleasure ? that’s cute .

doesn’t matter what time of day , if you’re not in a place where he can rip your tweng off , belive he is already trying to pull at the strings

-> “ c’mon baby , jus five minutes , they won’t even notice we’re gone.. ”

and they do . because it’s never just five minutes with lo’ak.

don’t never let him get you alone for a night - not ever - because he’s between your legs all night .

-> you’re pushing your hand against his head trying your best with your jelly-feeling arms .

-> “ t- too much lo’ ! ” he’s holding your hand in his to get to his favorite hobby .

-> “ one more baby, one more.. ”

he’s not asking you . he’s not telling you . he is begging you for one more . and another..

he doesn’t rest til his body actually puts him to sleep. only then will he let you start to think about forming coherent sentences .

eywa- and don’t tell him you’ll do anything .

-> “ s’that right ? anything yawne ? ” he’s smirking . he’s smirking because you’ve already sealed the deal .

you’re already pinned on his face , the thought of suffocating him pushed out of your mind when he feels so- so good.

so good you don’t even know what you had asked him for..

like father like son , right ?

[luvv4j4ybe11]

Girlie please I need whiny and moany and subby neteyam so much,you write him so good🙏😭😭

OO YES😩 the way I ran to fucking write this!, and tysm, baby love<3

Not proof read!! Sorry if there’s errors honeys

Warnings: p n v, riding, overstimulation, teyam starts to cry a lil bit bc he’s so overwhelmed, reader is mean, dom!reader, sub!teyam, and i think that’s it. Lmk if I missed anything, enjoy<3

Dividers by ~ @cafekitsune

It was hard at first for Neteyam to feel comfortable enough around you to be submissive, but once you got the “go-ahead” he turns into complete putty in your hands once you take control.

You’ve been riding him for what seems like hours, your soft, velvety walls milking him of all he’s worth as he cums inside of you pathetically because it’s just too good:(.

His big hands travel all over your plush curves, his way of desperately trying to tell you to slow down. And even when he does speak up all that comes out is a choked out whimper or broken moan.

“Awh..but tey I thought you wanted this?, poor boy can’t handle when mommy uses you? How pathetic.” He’d be so embarrassed after hearing the low whine that comes from his mouth after you say that, cock twitching and drooling inside of you just because of your voice.

The more the cruel, soft coos leave your mouth plump lips the more his eyes would start to burn with tears, biting down on his bottom lip so hard blood starts pouring from it;which you lick up eagerly.

He’d ask you so nicely for permission to cum whenever he’s close too, babyboy would be babbling complete nonsense but he’s really trying so hard to be a good boy for you:(, and the little huff that’d come from him when you deny him too, ugh. He would just squeeze your hips/ass/ or tits in frustration, and get even more frustrated when that gets him even closer.

“Yawne, p-please..please I-..wanna..cum, please~” he’d plead with you shakily, using all of his power to form a single sentence so he can fill your tight cunt with his hot, sticky cum. All you do is laugh though, leaning in to wrap you arms around his neck, pressing your soft tits against his toned chest. A sensation that makes him groan deeply. “Mhm..not yet. I’m so so close so just hold on a little longer, ‘Kay?….good.” You’d coo before placing a loving kiss on his nose.

A small frown adorns his lips when you deny him, looking up at you with the most pathetic tear filled doe eyes you’ve ever seen. Ewya, he’s the cutest.

The way his strong arms wrapped around your middle was almost like a silent plea for you to keep going. No matter how much he came he couldn’t get enough of your slick cunt, as if it was made for him.

You swear his noises get louder and needier with the way he was buried into your chest, rambling about whoever knows the closer he feels you get.

Your hips stutter once you’re on the brink of your orgasm, a sign Neteyam knew all too well from how many times he’s made you do the same.

“Teyam.. m’close..need you to cum with me, ok?” You feel his arms and tail squeeze you like a vice, and his hips buck up into you sloppily to match your own sloppy thrust. A whispered “mhm~” leaves his lips before you clamp down onto him, the intensity of your orgasm making you whimper in his ear shamelessly.

Between your noises, your soft body pressed against him, the tightness of your cunt, and your addictingly strong scent, he was cumming instantly. Shooting thick ropes of his warm load into your greedy hole.

It wasn’t until you pulled away from him that his he realized his face was covered in tears, something that breifly made him embarrassed before he felt you hold his face reassuringly.

“Such a pretty boy f’me, you know that?” You l encourage subtly, causing his tail to sway like a little happy puppy. “Could say the same about you, babygirl,” he replied through labored breathes, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on your lips. The sensation of his lips instantly making you clench around him, erupting an another low groan from him.

You lift up your hips slowly as you lean into him, cupping his face in your soft hands as you gently bounce on his overstimulated cock that was still achingly hard for you. “Think you can give me one more, my sweet boy?”

A/N~ I need..I need a minute after this one. I’ve never been so soaked in my life istg😭 but btw if any one of my nonnies wants an emoji just put it after you send in an ask/request and that’ll be your emoji 4L😛. Besides all that tho, ima take my ass to bed, love you guys, stay safe, and mwah stay hydrated💕

Duces🫶🏽,

luvv4j4ybe11

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Taglist~ @tallulah477 , @hotdsworld , @plooto , @blue-slxt , @itchaboi-itchyboy , @xylianasblog , @etherial-moon-blog , @criticallybella , @professional-yapper , @rivatar , @aperiraa

(If youd like to be added or removed to my general taglist, comment under this and lmk! And if your @ isn’t working, please check your settings💕)

[sutxdreamwalker]

Timeline wise Aha’ri is the founder of the dead older siblings club

First is Aha’ri in 2146

Then Tom in 2148

Then Sylwanin in 2152

Then Tsu’tey in 2154

Finally Neteyam in 2170

I swear if more older siblings die I’m not gonna have it-

[asfateentertwines]

The boys are barely hitting teenagers when Jake stumbles on Neteyam teaching Spider to shoot his bow. About seeing the little human he watched grow up mirror him 13 years ago, holding a weapon double his size and not knowing how to handle it, but this time the boy is comfortable. He’s grinning, cocky and safe, with his son’s hands over his own. He sees his wife for a moment in his son’s soothing touches and then his brother in Spiders grin. It’s healing in the same way that a part of him curls and aches at the sight.

He watches for a while, a silent guard if they get in over their heads. Neteyam is normally level-headed and responsible but Spider is a wild card - plus he rarely sees the two by themselves.

He lurches to intervene when Spider pulls a gun from the bushes, tossing it to his oldest with a teasing prod. It’s big for a human but looks barely larger than a pistol in his son’s childish hands. Neteyam looks nervous but shrugs as Spider lifts his hands to position them better. It takes a few tries to find something comfortable for the taller - it’s one of Norms weapons, not meant for Na’vi, those are locked up safe in home tree - but they settle it in his hands and Jake forces himself to relax. It makes him nervous but he tries to give them a shot. Why, he can’t really decide, but he sits back. If they’ll survive, then they’ll need to adapt. Every solider packs a few scars and he’d rather they do it now when he’s within arms reach.

Spider runs his fingers over the gun and points out where the safety is, how to load it, and then how to trigger it. He doesn’t want to know why he knows all this but suspects his own raids might have been the boys teacher. Neteyam takes a shuttering breath and shoots the gun at the largest tree in their little clearing. The kickback nearly makes him drop the gun and he stumbles back but he grins and laughs like a boy again.

He didn’t realize how long it’s been since he heard that sound.

Spider joins him soon after, clumsily notching an arrow and attempting to hit the same spot. He misses by a long shot and groans dramatically but there’s a camaraderie in the air that he remembers from his own youth. It’s a signature of growing up and something he only really remembers from Tommy. He smiles and watches for a bit as Neteyam tries to fix Spiders posture then tries to one up him with another shot. They’re sparing with the gun, clearly worried about getting caught despite the bravado, but the sound is swallowed by the forest enough to allow a few trysts.

It’s been a good half hour when Spider manages to knock a branch off the tree he’d been aiming at. The boys cheer with such pride that Jake can’t help but feel a little proud. He guesses they really are growing up.

“Okay, okay, hear me out - your dad can’t be pissed if we bring home dinner right? Why don’t we, yknow, try these out for real?”

Jake swallows back a groan and steps out from his hiding spot, perhaps they aren’t that grown up after all.

[deprivedreality]

A scenerio where like neteyams mate is starting to show signs of heat and neteyam realizes it 🙈

𝗔𝗖𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗧 aged-up! neteyam x navi! reader

"Yawne... just what exactly are your reasons for doing this?" Neteyam could feel his mate's canines digging on his shoulder as she kept nibbling on him like a baby entering its teething days. It's been going on for days, so much that he started getting more misleading attention from the people and even from his own family.

Bite marks from across his body were laid on his skin like tattoos. Each day that passed, the bite marks only doubled in count and Neteyam started to look more like a mated lad. Everyday, the bite marks spread through his body like wildfire, starting from only his arms to reaching parts of his body that seemed completely intimate. Even his cheek had an obvious bite mark.

Neteyam never knew exactly why his mate acted the way she did and never questioned it, but whatever she was on, he was starting to feel very... stimulated. Aroused, rather. And the longer he feels her hot breath on his neck, her legs hugging his stomach, and her bottom resting on his calves, Neteyam simply couldn't ignore the signs of how clearly she had succeeded in seducing him.

At some point, Neteyam thought his mate contracted rabies. But his father saved him from saying such an insult with his mate when he blessed him with the opportunity to have the 'talk'.

"Ngh, I don't think this is appropriate to do right now, my love..." He muttered, a bit husky and embarassed from all the skinship he was receiving. Yet he never got a word from her as she continued on biting him, now moving on to his neck where she bit him. Literally, biting him like a meal waiting to be devoured.

The boy only sighed as his face grew more of in the shade magenta. Neteyam never said a word and continued to enlighten her to do, secretly liking how she repeatedly marked him.

"It's not very─" He was about to speak for the third time, but it turned into a moan the moment he felt something wet touch his skin. Neteyam shifted from his seat as he shivvered a little from the sensation of being licked. Even if he tried to pull himself away in fear of something happening, she pulled Neteyam back into her arms as if absorbing him entirely.

It didn't take much for him to accept it though. Because a minute bypassed and he was starting to thank the instinct he had of bringing his mate on his own tent, where only the two of them could be at. And perhaps this was enough for Neteyam to realize how being in heat works for both of them.

a/n: here's a doodle. also, im not writing smut for tey !!

[kryptznnn]

♛- You’re My Best Friend

➸ INTERESTS; - navi!jake sully x fem!omatikayan reader

➸ BACKGROUND; -over his short awaited stay within the omatikayan clan, tsyeyk te’ suli quickly grew fond of you. Your friendship quickly evolved into something more and in all honesty you enjoyed what it became, even though Jake seemed to change when he heard of your “arranged mate”.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc. roughly 250

➸a.i; - @stargirlrchive full credits to her!! just slight head cannons of how jake would taunt and tease the reader. also i am so sorry i haven’t posted anything in MONTHS school is driving me insane and i’ve been extra busy. senioritis is so real💔🌸my main navigation

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Your best friend Jake who.. loves spending all of his time with you, no matter if you’re busy or if he has business to attend, especially when it comes to learning omatikayan customs.

Your best friend Jake that.. loves to tease you and compliment you on ends whenever you two are alone. (and create the horniest conversations)

Your best friend Jake who was… quickly taken aback when he heard the news of you ranting to him about your family placing you into an arranged situation for a close friend of the family to court you.

Your best friend Jake that… honestly believed he had more time with you before the interruption of the “piece of dogshit” he calls your arranged mate (honestly whatever the word means makes you laugh everytime)

Your best friend Jake who… insists on third-wheeling when it comes to you being with your future partner, hiding his jealousy as just being protective and curious of the situation.

Your best friend Jake that… completely embarrasses your future mate with the worst kinds of conversation. Asking him personal questions or relatively ‘male like’ questions in a way to challenge him, seeing if he’s ‘fit’ for you. In the end your ‘future partner’ is no longer a part of your future which leaves Jake to be a very pleased man.

Your best friend Jake who… doesn’t waste anytime afterwards giving you (and everyone else within the clan) something to remember him by, and trust me during that enjoyable moment with one another he made it very clear things would change.. first things first, you both would definitely be more than just ‘best friends’.

Jake Sully, at first someone who was a complete stranger and honestly someone you were never truly fond of, but now? He was all you could think about, of course being the fact he was currently right on top of you giving you the exact fantasies you’ve dreamed of. So long to the two of you being just best friends.

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn

[th3w1ltedpe0ny]

Awa'atlu Island dwellers~♡

Metkayina clan~♡

Tonowari

Coming soon...~♡

Ronal

Coming soon...~♡

Ao'nung

Hit me-Drabble

Tsireya

Coming soon...~♡

Rotxo

Dips-Drabble

Fluff n' Stuff-Drabble

Ralak (Oc)

Coming soon...~♡ (Once granted permisson)

[nights-legacy]

Dreadlocks - Jake Sully

Main Masterlist ~ Avatar Masterlist

Author's Note:

Just a little thing that popped into my head 😁

Here it is. The fandom I was attributing to in this Ask poll I did a while back, I know its been a bit 😬. Let me know what you guys think.

Words: 417? I'm not sure anymore lol + Reader is on the fence about Jake's dreadlocks. Setting Note: set between the movies. Neytiri and Jake are only friends and Reader is an avatar who went through the consciousness transfer like Jake

I just stared at Jake as he sharpened one of his knives. He was sitting at the edge of our marui and I was sitting in our hammock. It was just before eclipse and everything was setting down in the village for the night while the night creatures of the forest woke up.

"I can feel you staring." He quipped without looking up at me. I didn't say anything and continued to stare. He laughed, letting his hands and head drop. He peered over at me with a big smile. "Care to share what's got you so focused?"

"I can't figure out if I like it." I said. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion while still smiling.

"Like what?" He asked before looking over himself to see if he could figure it out. I stood to my feet and padded over. He looked up at me and set his knife and stone aside. 

Jake immediately set his hand on my thigh when he could reach me. I straddled him and sat on his lap. He pulled me flush against him and wrapped his other arm around my waist. His fingers began to rub circles in the small of my back.

"Babe?" I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck. I began to twirl one of his dreadlocks between my fingers.

"The dreadlocks." I said. He looked taken back. I could feel his tail brushing the skin of my hips and sides.

"My deadlocks? You don't like the dreadlocks?"

"No, well yes. I mean..." I huffed at myself before taking a breath. He waited patiently as I collected my thoughts, rubbing circles in my thigh. "I mean, on Earth I wasn't a big fan of dreadlocks on anyone. I just didn't care for the hairstyle."

"But?" He tilted his head to the side. His adorableness distracted me for a second. I kissed his nose before continuing.

"But for some reason on you...it freaking works? Ugh! I don't understand it." I pouted while looking at his hair. He began to laugh wholeheartedly. "Jake!"

"That's what you're conflicted on?" He set his head on my shoulder. He pressed a few kisses to my skin.

"Yes! On you it's hot! And I can see the appeal of dreadlocks." I whined, swatting his shoulder. *You're mean.*

"Aw baby. I'm sorry" He kissed my head. "But hot you say? Well then." He tightened his grip around me before getting up.

"Jake!" I squealed at his swift movements. My tail wrapped around his thigh as he walked toward the hammock.

"Let's see how hot you think it is.”

[d0llcuries]

could you make a one-shot or hc (idk) of things neteyam does to show love to his partner and loving and deep thoughts he has about her? please

neteyam isn’t shy when it comes to showing love, especially when it’s you.

he perceives love as something to be demonstrated openly, proudly.

from the moment he decided that you were the one for him, it was as though something primal and unshakable settled into his bones, dictating his every move around you with a sense of purpose.

that being said, hunting is one of the first things he uses to display his affection.

it is what he knows, what he has been trained to do since his hands were old enough to grip a bow. but when it comes to you, hunting takes on a new significance.

he does not just hunt for survival—he hunts to provide for you, to ensure that you have the finest meat, the best cuts. when he returns from a successful hunt, he brings the kill to you with a quiet pride, his chest puffed out just a little more as he lays the offering at your feet.

he watches your reaction closely, waiting for the moment your lips curve into that soft smile that makes his heart race, waiting for the look of approval that makes the hours of tracking, stalking, and fighting worth every second.

his hands never stray far. public displays of affection are a given with him

he is unapologetic in his need to touch you. he doesn’t care if his family sees. in fact, he relishes it. if he senses even the slightest bit of fluster in you, it only encourages him.

if it makes you blush? good. that means he’ll do it again—so casual about it, like he doesn’t even realize.

he relishes in the way you shy away, pretending to be annoyed, but he knows the truth—you love the attention just as much as he loves giving it.

but goodness it wouldn't kill him to show a little more propriety.

he purrs, too, openly and without a trace of shame.

it doesn't matter if it’s just you two are alone or in the middle of a crowd. you touch him? he purrs. you laugh? he purrs. it’s automatic, and he doesn’t try to hide it, his chest rumbling every time you’re close.

he makes sure you hear it, because it’s for you.

your mere presence makes him so instinctively happy why should he surpress that?

he's so inadvertently supportive whenever you do anything.

when you cook him a meal, for example, the second the food touches his lips, he’s looking at you like you just saved his life. close to tears and everything, he’s going on about how he’s never tasted anything better, and he’ll probably say the same thing next time.

he genuinely believes that what you’ve made is a gift, something special just for him, and his heart swells with the knowledge that you’ve put effort into caring for him in this way.

my favourite animal is neteyam when he doesn’t receive at least three kisses or more from you in a day.

can you blame him? his days are long and exhausting, spent with his father barking orders and chasing after tuk to keep her from wandering off. so, of course, he looks forward to the moment he can feel your soft lips on his, the one moment of peace he can count on.

if you withhold a kiss, it’s like a stab in the chest. his ears flatten, tail droops, and his big amber eyes well up like he’s been abandoned in the middle of the forest. there’s a desperate edge to his voice, thick with disbelief—how could you deny him?

he’ll practically sink to his knees, hands reaching for you, putting on the most dramatic performance ever just for you.

if you decide to tease him on a particularly hard day where he doesn't have the patience required for such theatrics, he'll just scoop you up and haul you over his shoulder, kissing you until you can’t remember what you were supposed to be doing.

it’s not negotiable—three kisses, minimum, every day, or he’ll never let you hear the end of it.

neteyam loves deeply, fiercely, and in every little gesture, he makes sure you feel it.

he wonders if you know how much space you take up in his head. he thinks about you constantly.

one instance of this is when he's left alone with his thoughts on a particularly long hunting trip that lasted more than one day.

neteyam lays on the cold ground, the stars above him stretching endlessly, and yet, despite their beauty, all he can think about is the empty space beside him. it’s strange, how the absence of something so small—your quiet, rhythmic snores—can leave him feeling so lost. the other hunters of the group snore but that does not guide him to sleep quite as easily as your sounds do. he chuckles to himself, though there’s no one around to hear it. she would never believe me if i told her, he thinks, swears she doesn’t snore. but you do. soft little sounds that lull him to sleep every night.

without them, the silence feels oppressive. he shifts, trying to get comfortable, but nothing works. the coolness of the forest at night wraps around him, but it doesn’t bring the peace he’s used to. not like when he’s with you. back home, when he can feel the warmth of your body pressed against his, when the sound of your breathing fills the space between his heartbeats. it’s then he realizes how much he depends on those little things, the ones you would never even think about.

he closes his eyes, trying to picture your face. eywa, it’s only been a few days, and i already miss her this much. it’s embarrassing, really.

his mind wanders to the rosy tip of your flat nose. it looks just like the petals of a lortsyawll, he thinks absentmindedly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

he swears, if he could just hear your laugh, even for a moment, it would make this whole hunt more bearable. i hate being away from her.

he shifts again, turning on his side and curling his body into itself, hoping that maybe if he closes his eyes tight enough, he’ll be able to pretend you’re here. but the weight of your absence is heavy. the way your soft hand always finds his when you walk together. the sound of your voice, soft and low when you’re sleepy. the way you tease him, lighthearted but full of affection. he misses the way you press your forehead to his when you’re trying to comfort him, even over something small. he needs that now—needs you.

nothing feels right without you beside him. the hunt is going well, but even the thrill of the chase can’t distract him from the fact that, at the end of the day, when the adrenaline fades and the world quiets down, it’s you he longs for. i need her, he admits to himself, the thought settling deep in his chest. i always need her.

you are always there, in the back of his mind, shaping his every action, his every decision. he doesn’t need anyone else’s approval, doesn’t care what others think—as long as you’re proud of him, as long as you’re his, that’s all that matters.

she’s everything, he thinks, for the hundredth time that day, and yet, it still feels like an understatement.

i should be asleep but this request was too good!!

[diwatopia]

★ cruel ; neteyam

synopsis. as of recently, neteyam's been slipping away. attempting to get to the bottom of his negligence towards you, he spews harsh words that begin to form cracks within your relationship. will neteyam be able to fix this despite being the cause of your pain?

info. angst / no comfort, gn!na'vi!reader, 1135 words

warnings. arguing, yelling, outta pocket teyam (boo 🍅), one use of y/n, crying, grammatical errors, based off "queen elizabeth" fight scene :P

neteyam has been distant.

physically, he's there, but mentally — he's lightyears away from you.

it hasn't always been like this though. during the beginning of your courtship, neteyam was nothing short of attentive and caring. he was everything you wanted in a lover but as of recently, he slowly began drifting away from you. at this point, he's been more of an acquaintance than a mate.

and if you were being honest, you couldn't help but find the situation slightly comical. your mind fills itself to the brim with memories of falling so deeply in love with one another, but now — now, he's just gone.

"you never have to hide from me," he told you.

his words were doused in honey, every single insecurity that plague your mind began melting away. he wanted to know the real you. not the village's tskarem, not the "golden child" title that the elders bestowed upon you.

he wanted to know you.

he wanted to drown himself in your scent, burn the feeling of your body next to his, he wanted to know the ins and outs of your soul.

"i am just neteyam when we are together. not the clan's future olo'ekytan, not the successor of my father. i am simple and plain neteyam."

the memory brings the smallest of smiles to your lips, yet it does nothing to ease the surge of loneliness that consumes you, your heart. it keeps you up at night, eyes wide open as you replay everything that had let up to this point of your relationship. you were beyond tired having to play this game with him, so you decided to bite the bullet and ask him.

"neteyam are you here — oh, kiri!" you speak out, sending her a sweet smile her way. she returns the gesture, "hi, y/n! he's near the shooting range." she states simply, going back to her weaving.

you thank her before scurrying away. luckily, he wasn't too far and you were able to catch up with him. your hands nervously tremble, wringing themselves out in hopes to stop the shakiness. your strides are slow, but with a few encouraging words, you will yourself to walk up to him.

as if on cue, he turns around and catches you staring. his eyes catch you off guard, sunflower-hued orbs swirling with something you can't seem to put your finger on.

"hey..." you say, tone unsure. the sunlight sparkles, flashing through tiny openings of leaves as they sway in the wind. the mossy floor quiets your footsteps as you get closer, standing next to him wordlessly.

he parrots your greeting before going back to his previous task. he draws his bow, eyeing the target that stares back at him. "have you been well?" you ask hopefully. he shrugs, muttering something about being busy and that he's fine. your lips purse at the lack of communication on his end.

"okay, stop. what is wrong with you?" you ask sternly. your eyebrows scrunch in displeasure, subtly creating space between you and him by taking a step sideways. he looks back at you, surprised at the sudden fierceness to your voice.

he sends you a quizzical look as if he genuinely had no clue what you were hinting at, "i do not know what you are talking about." he states it as if it were a fact.

you roll your eyes at his deflection, crossing your arms irritably. "do not play this game with me," you scoff, sounding like a parent scolding their child. neteyam's eyes downcast shamefully towards the bow in his hands, the seriousness of the situation beginning to crash down on him.

"look, i know you have been having a hard time with your duties, but 'teyam, i'm here for you. there is no need to run away from me, from us —"

"there is no 'us'," he cuts you off, not sparing you a single glance. "there is nothing here. you have absolutely no knowledge of what it takes, what is thrust upon me as the next olo'ekytan. i am forced to love you, a simple clans person who does not contribute a single thing to this village," he grunts out, nostrils flaring in irritation.

"yes, i have my duties but i will not be forced to go through yet another day where you think we are true lovers. so back off." his voice grows angrier with each word. his words resemble a whip, every word that tumbles past his lips begins to hit you again, and again, and again. his breath gets caught in his throat as his face flushes a darker plum color.

your jaw drops slightly, an instant gasp leaving your lips. the tiny noise knocks neteyam out of his defensive state and with every passing second, regret begins to consume him whole.

both of you stay silent for second, just staring at each other in search of how to respond, to no avail. he watches your face morph into one that is more closed off, walls building themselves high as you straighten out your posture before responding.

"my mistake," you swallow thickly, voice almost mocking him in a sense. "i apologize for thinking there was an us. i thought i was speaking to just neteyam, not the chief's son. forgive me for thinking otherwise." your tone is monotonous, gaze meeting his in an intense staring match.

his brows drop, eyes widening as his frown begins to grow deeper. "y/n..." he tries to take a step closer to you, in return you take a step back. you cut off his advances before they can even start. "i am truly sorry for the fact that our entire relationship was a mere inconvenience for you."

neteyam hisses as if you had slapped him across his face, and after everything he had just spilt, he wouldn't be surprised if you actually did so. but there you stand, the sparkle in your eyes dimming. his mouth open and closes, trying to muster up enough words to form a proper sentence. and to rub salt into his freshly cut wound, "was there anything else the chief's son needed to say to me or am i free to leave?" you ask calmly, eyes never leaving his.

his hands twitch nervously, biting the inside of his cheek as he contemplates his next move. "there's nothing else to say on this matter," he mutters.

you nod affirmatively before turning your back towards him. as you begin walking away, neteyam's hands instinctively reach for you, calling your name desperately as the space between you and him grows bigger.

he knew he had messed up, big time.

"that's enough, neteyam." your voice stern, pointing an accusatory finger his way. he continues to watch your retreating form, heart willing him to run after you, yet his brain forces his body to remain deathly still.

⋆ ˚｡ ୨୧ reblogs / feedback are highly appreciated. thank you!

★ diwa's notes. i always write fluff n shit so i decided to change that LOL there might b a pt 2, not sure tho :P

© ilupearls 2023.

[plooto]

pussy drunk!jake who doesn’t pause when he’s sheathed deep inside you for you. he pauses so he doesn’t cum right then.

when he does start to grind his hips into you again, he’s biting down on your shoulder. you think he just making you, he’s not he’s muffling the whines that’s threatening to leave his throat.

when he starts to rub tight circles on your swollen bundle of nerves, it’s not only for you. he knows he’s teetering along the edge of release - you know. he’s rubbing faster now so that he does not break his rule of making you cross that line before he does.

when he remains inside you, cock still twitching, you think it’s you that’s shaking from the blissful events. it’s him. he’s pressing kisses to your neck and face to distract you.

but you know. you know that you have toruk makto wrapped around your pretty little finger.