#avatar drabble

[askinkiskarma]

more stepbro neteyam please im begging you on my knees pls

thank you to @cinetrix

warnings: smut (stepcest, p in v, semi-public sex - people are sleeping in same tent, pet names, slight praise kink, slight softdom!neteyam), strong language, cursing

wc: 1.7k words

You awake from your slumber with a low groan at the way the chills have overtaken your body, the dead of night furthering the discomfort you feel and the way you come to yearn for muted alleviation. You look around your adoptive family’s marui, desperate to find someone you could cuddle up to, anyone who could provide your body the warmth it craved.

Despite how much they bickered, Lo’ak and Kiri were twin souls, and they always made peace at night, sharing a woven blanket and a warm embrace. You smiled at them, shaking your head lightly at how easily forgotten all their fights seemed to be as soon as eclipse took over the land, as soon as the cover of bioluminescent darkness enveloped their consciousness. Tuk was nestled tightly in between Jake and Neytiri, and you were almost worried she would be suffocated in their grasp, one of each their arms meeting on her tiny frame, holding her close.

That left Neteyam, who seemed fast asleep on one side, one of his arms beneath his head and the other rested carelessly over his waist and abdomen, and you couldn’t help stare at this man you loved like a brother, but ached for in ways that made you ashamed and embarrassed, that you could never admit to out loud, that you were scared to even think about most days, afraid that the intensity of those thoughts was so loud, they could be heard, and Eywa, that would lead to a whole slew of issues you were too scared to even conceptualise.

But despite the way you hindered your own brain from deliberating on the way you wanted him in ways you could never have him, it didn’t stop said brain from manifesting your wildest desires in dreams and reveries, in the way you woke up each night sweating and with slick running down your ass or thighs and soaking into your mat, the way it was taunting you with images of his body, strong and powerful, muscular and lean, contracting and flexing as his cock sank deeper and deeper in you, filling the void you felt every day of your life, that you only want him to fill. 

You get up quietly and make your way to him, dragging your thin covers with you to where he lay, getting on your side so your back was to him, nuzzling until you felt his chest taut against you, until his heartbeat rang loudly in you, until it overtook your own, until it was all you heard, and all you felt. The closeness hurt you, the ache reaching new heights, and it was overwhelming as his hand instinctively reached for your body, in his sleep, his touch lighting your skin on fire, his fingers lingering on your ribs. His unyielding grip pulled you so close, your ass was rested against his groin, and you let out a sharp exhale when you noticed he was hard, when you noticed his loincloth was damp. His voice startled you as he spoke, quiet as the night that still blanketed your world and your progressively untethered self, doing a good job of hiding your disheveled form or the blush in your cheeks, but not a good job at protecting you from the increase luminosity of your freckles or the moans that escaped you when his thick cock brushed against your folds. 

“What are you doing here, pretty girl?” His mouth was near your lips, his breath fanning over the side of your face and neck, sending chills down your body and all of a sudden you didn’t know whether you were cold or hot anymore, your body struggling to comprehend all the sensations being elicited in it, in you. 

You swallowed loudly, trying to find your voice in your throat and breath in your lungs enough to be able to pull together a string of sounds that would sound normal and relaxed, and not breathy and wanting, like you knew they would be. 

“I’m cold, ’Teyam, and you were the only lonely one.” He let out a quiet chuckle and his hand started tracing your body softly, a touch so light it was barely there, and the chills deepened, goosebumps appearing in his touch’s wake. 

“Well, not anymore, and thank fuck for cold nights, huh?” his hands didn’t stop when they reached your navel, slowly inching their way south, and you whimpered a little knowing where they were going, unwilling and unable to understand what was happening to you, whether this was a dream or a nightmare, whether you were actually living this and it wasn’t just a vivid vision here to taunt you, before morning came and took it away from you forever. 

“Neteyam, what are you doing?” Your voice was breathy and weak, but alert nonetheless, aware of the situation and your adoptive family sleeping peacefully next to you, and how easy it would be for anyone to wake up and any point and witness this. The shame and fear was almost as overwhelming to you as the desire to give in to him, no questions asked, no care in the world for consequences and risks as long as it ended with your eyes rolled in the back of your head and his cum dripping down you thighs. 

“I’m not doing anything, little sis. Just here to make sure you’re… warm. What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t help my step-sister when she clearly needs me?” The amused tone in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, and neither did the way his fingers slipped past your loincloth and found your clit, that was swollen and needy, or the way they ghosted over it and your folds in scant, fluttery touches.

“Your smell has been driving me crazy for weeks, sevin. For weeks, I’ve had to pretend to be ignorant of the way your scent has been calling out to me, your pheromones washing over me and making my cock so hard, I can’t concentrate anymore. For weeks, I have dreamt of fucking you, of slipping my cock past your sopping folds, dreamt of seeing you come apart around me. It’s so fucking wrong, but so are you. And so am I.” You shuddered at his words and how his sharp canines dragged along your pulse point, at how his fingers stilled on your clit, not giving you the release you desperately craved, at how his lips pressed on your jaw and sucked, or how they licked the spot that was now slightly hurting, immediately alleviating any discomfort you felt. 

“But I need to hear you say it, baby girl. I can’t do anything until you say it. Do you want your step brother to fuck you?” 

A moan and a small nod is all you managed in response, but it was enough for Neteyam, who started a slow caress of your bud, putting just enough pressure to make you pant, to adjust your position so he would get better access, arching your back so that your ass was pressed even tighter against him and he groaned lowly, the sound making you clench around thin air. 

“Please, Neteyam…” 

“What is it, pretty girl? What do you need?”

“You… your cock, please.” His groan evolved into a quiet growl, reverberating in the marui and you both stilled as Kiri shifted a little in her sleep. Her deep breaths put you both at ease, if only a little. 

“You drive me fucking crazy, you know that? Do you have any idea what you do to me? What I’ll do to you?” 

You felt his cock brush against your folds as he released it from the constraints of his nightwear, and the velvety feel of his thick length made your head fall back into the crook of his neck, needing every spare ounce of self-restraint not to moan so loudly it wouldn’t just be heard in your family’s tent, but in the whole clan. His tip prodded at your soaking wet entrance, and when he slipped past your folds and into you, each inch felt like every one of your dreams come true, and you no longer had enough brain power to stop the mewling sounds escaping you. 

“You need to be quiet, sevin. You don’t want anybody to hear, now do you? What do you think our parents would say if they saw how deep in your pretty little cunt I am, huh?”

When he bottomed out, his tip was pushed against your cervix and the way he filled you up was beyond any fantasy, better than even the most intense ones, the wildest ones, the best ones. 

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. Who knew my little step sister would take my cock so well, like this tight pussy was made for me?” 

He started an unrushed, languid pace of his hips, that got quicker and more aggressive, more desperate and sloppy as his own orgasm approach and you felt yours taking over you slowly, raising in intensity as his fingers continued their ministrations of your clit at the same time, until it was so intense it was overpowering and oppressive, until you needed to let it out so you wouldn’t collapse under its weight. 

“I can feel you squeezing me, baby. You want to milk me, want to take my cum like the good girl you are?” 

You nodded furiously, and his whispered, breathy “Then come for me, pretty girl. I want to feel you, all of you.” pushed you over the edge, your orgasm violent and unending, streams of liquid mixing with his own release as you squirted all over his cock, making a mess of both your loincloths and the sleeping mat underneath. You couldn’t care less about explaining yourself, not when your head was empty and your cunt full, the only way you wanted to be every day going forward, for the rest of your life. 

You both came off your high panting, struggling to catch your breath and any thoughts swirling aimlessly in your brain, and you couldn’t find it in you to move, and he couldn’t find it in him to pull out, so you just lay like that, him spooning you closely, licking stripes over your neck and jaw, and you felt desire build in you again, instant and frenzied.

“Next time, how about we put that pretty mouth of yours to good use, huh?” 

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia

[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.” 

[blue-sadie]

To Many To Count

the lapping of his tongue between your folds was about to drive you crazy how long have you been here an hour, 2 the amounts of times you've cum from his fingers and mouth was to much to count.

"F-fuck jake" you cried out as you arched your back as your body shook and tensed as you cam again but all he did was chuckle and carry on what hes doing.

He won't stop till your a babbling, moaning mess that can't speak but he will make you beg for it one way or another.

"Aw is my little girl to dumb to speak well to bad im only gonna stop when you beg me"

[defmxl]

Neytiri let her heart speak.

Neytiri was full of rage and begged for vengeance.

She just wanted her son back.

Quaritch should feel the same she does, he deserves to suffer.

But the knife in her hand faltered when she felt the hands of her mate engulf hers. Is this right?

No, I guess not.

[luvv4j4ybe11]

AWHH, mama!!, tysm💕 but istg ur in my head, sia, bc I was literally thinking of doing a continuation on this😭, so I’ll take this as a sign to do it🥰✨

A girlie is ovulating rn and ik yall know ab ovulation horniness so i was js thinkin..🤭

Smut under the cut‼️ MDNI‼️

Neteyam and Lo’ak being able to smell how horny you get when you ovulate, so every time they come to the lab and they notice you’re not out in the main area like you always are, they alr know you’re in your room “handling yourself”. Which was one of the things you said while explaining why you smell so different to them.

Both of their large footsteps make it to your door, but you’re too lost in the pleasure your vibrator was giving you to notice them. “Mama, you in here?” Lo’ak asks politely, but neteyam was already opening the door because of how strong your scent was even through the door. You slam your legs shut once you lock eyes with them, immediately feeling embarrassed. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Ignoring you they both storm over to you, tearing off the small amount of clothes you had on. Neteyam made quick work of getting behind you and holding you in place while lo’ak dove into your pussy like he hasn’t eaten in days. “Tawtute, why didn’t you come to us? You know we’d love to help you out with your little human problem” neteyam says in between his kisses and bites on your shoulder, making lo’ak let out a muffled giggle at his comment as he continues to draw circles on your clit.

“I-i didn’t wanna bother you-mhm~ you guys..” you say in an almost silent tone, not trusting your voice with how loak was demolishing your pussy. “Awh mama how cute, you know we don’t mind when you ask us for little favors” Lo’ak says before leaving a few kitten licks to your clit and inserting his middle and ring finger into you and rubbing your clit in tight circles with his thumb instead of his tongue,setting a pace that was driving you to the edge.“Mhm! Lo’ak!” You say while throwing your head against neteyams chest,giving him more of an area to mark. Effortlessly they both find your sweet spots, making you scream out both of their names and let out almost pornographic moans. “Fuck! I’m gonna cum! I’m- please don’t stop!” Making both of the brothers continue their attacks to your sensitive body, causing you to squrit all over lo’aks finigers. Coming down with soft whimpers and moans, you lean back into neteyams chest. “Awh tawtute, don’t get sleepy on us now. We aren’t finished with you yet.”

-

-

DID NOT MEAN TO MAKE THIS A WHOLE FIC LMFAOO IT WAS JS A HORNY THOUGHT😅

[fleurriee]

from the dirty lil compliments list i bring to u ❛  you have the most perfect tits.  ❜

we’re so back!!! first neteyam drabble in a while…. i want nete to do this to me. pls, i beg 😩 tysm for requesting anon!!

pairing ; neteyam x fem!reader

summary ; neteyam could never stay too long away from you, especially when it comes to your tits.

themes ; explicit content: titty squeezing, illusions/mentions of p in v sex…

During the middle of the night, you almost always find the best comfort in the midnight breeze, the way the winds caress gently upon your skin and there’s nothing other than the forest-life around you to catch in your ears.

It’s why, more often than not, you find yourself sat in the middle of your tent, weaving random little things as you kept your mind occupied. Sometimes you struggled to succumb to sleep when your thoughts were so raging, and sometimes you sought out the idea of staying up later just so you could experience this.

There was something about being completely free with it all, too, of being vulnerable. You shared your tent with your mate, Neteyam, and after being mated now for years, there was nothing that couldn’t be shared between the two of you, nothing that could stop the love for one another.

So, going to sleep naked, and waking up and completing small chores before your day truly began, was normal for the two of you. It brought about a vulnerability that could only be shared between two mates than irrevocably loved one another. There were no fears, no insecurities - just pure, gentle love.

And, now, as time seemed to slow down just a little, soft caresses against your skin whilst you smoothly hummed your songcord to yourself, you didn’t take notice of the other noises shifting behind you.

Except, when a small grunt sounded out, extremely close to you, and then an entire figure sitting directly behind you, pulling you flush against his front did you realise what was happening. Neteyam had woken up and spotted your disappearance. He wasn’t clingy, per say, but one of his favourite things would always be to fall asleep with you tangled in his embrace, so unbelievably close, you simply couldn’t be two separate people.

That’s why you’re not entirely shocked when he presses you up against him, forcing his face between the dip of your neck, inhaling deeply. A soft chuckle escapes your lips at your mate’s antics, loving the feel of him being so clingy. You bring your hand up to caress the side of his face, inadvertently bringing him closer, whilst his own arms wrap themselves tight around your waist.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” You question, knowing that such a situation has occurred before. You hope it was the reason this time, as Neteyam needs to be up fairly early in the morning to meet his father.

A sigh breathes against the skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “No,” he pauses, no doubt too sleepy to really understand his surroundings, “I missed you…”

His words resonated within you and cut deep within your core, wanting to tattoo them on your skin and never forget them. Still, even when they were so incredibly loving, you couldn’t help but laugh at him. “I haven’t been out of bed for long.”

“Still,” he’s adamant, squeezing you tighter within his embrace. Then, his fingers start dancing against your skin, sending gentle patterns along your stomach. They travel higher and higher at an agonisingly slow pace, until they’re so close to your chest, you can practically feel his phantom touches.

For a moment, you think he’s just teasing you like he loves to do to you, but it’s obvious how truly sleepy he is when he takes both of your boobs within his grasps, and squeezes them. Before you can help it, a soft moan falls from your lips, closing your eyes in bliss at his sudden actions. “You have the most perfect tits.”

His voice is nothing but husky and guttural now, full of both love and lust all for you. Your insides are churning, a knot that feels so unbelievably amazing forming at the bottom of your stomach. So badly do you want to give into him, but you know there’s a possibility he’ll regret it in the morning if he doesn’t get enough sleep.

“‘Teyam…” you start, wanting to sound confident and strong, but it comes out like you’re moaning his name. It’s obvious he’s enjoying himself, too, by the way he squeezes you tighter and a low growl sounds from the back of his throat. You swallow deeply, “‘Teyam, you need to be up in the morning…”

“That’s okay,” he whispers, now starting to pepper sultry kisses against the skin of your neck. “I don’t mind being a little late if it means I get to devour you whole, yawne (beloved)…”

Another moan sounds from your lips, and that’s when he knows you’re putty in his hands.

[thief-of-eggs]

Thinking about how Zuko almost never laughs in canon. And how Sokka takes alot of his identity from being the “funny one”, the one who can always lighten a mood and make people smile.

Thinking about a Sokka who makes it his mission to get Zuko to even so much as smile. Laughter is his goal, but he’ll take even just a soft smile if he can get it.

He doesn’t know why it irks him so much, that smiles so rarely grace Zuko’s face, that laughter is so rarely heard from the teen Firelord.

But Sokka knows he wants to hear it. Needs to hear it. He can’t explain it- maybe it’s because Zuko is the one person who doesn’t so easily laugh at his jokes- but it becomes an obsession for him.

Over time, Sokka becomes the only person who can wheedle out a genuine laugh from Zuko. The only one who can ease his worry-lined face into softness, who can make a smile appear on his pressed thin lips.

Zuko starts to seek him out, whenever he’s feeling particularly worn down. When pressure sinks into his bones, when tension weighs on his shoulders like the goddamn earth itself- it’s Sokka’s easy smile and quick wit that he seeks.

Before long, they’re both spending every free second they can find in eachother’s company. Sokka stops trying to get Zuko to laugh just to feel better about himself- he starts trying to get him to laugh just because he loves the sound. And Zuko stops seeking Sokka out just because he knows he’ll feel a little calmer from his jokes- he seeks him out because he knows he’ll feel at peace from Sokka.

It’s slow, the way they fall in love. It doesn’t happen overnight. It’s not a flash, no collision that leaves them dazed.

It’s a snowball of little moments. It’s shared laughs and small smiles, it’s leaned on shoulders and quiet evenings where neither utters a word.

It’s slow, but that’s the kind of love that lasts. They wade into the water instead of diving straight in, and by the time they reach the deep end- they both find that they’ve learned how to swim.

[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.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 || 𝐒𝐨𝐤𝐤𝐚 ||

A/n: here you go! @bisexualgirly12 i apologize it took me a while

The Cave of Two Lovers was supposed to be a shortcut, an easy detour through the treacherous mountain pass. Instead, it had become the latest in a long list of disasters.

“This is your fault,” Sokka grumbled, pacing in the dim torchlight. His arms were crossed, his jaw set, and his expression was full of exasperation. “We should’ve just taken the long way like I said.”

“You mean the way that had Fire Nation patrols?” you shot back, mirroring his stance. “Yeah, great idea, Sokka. That would’ve been so much better.”

“It would’ve been safer!”

“You got us lost twice today. Why would I trust your navigation skills now?”

“Excuse me? I am great with directions!”

“You once got lost in a straight tunnel....”

Sokka opened his mouth, closed it, then dramatically threw his arms in the air. “Okay, that was one time! And I was tired!”

"That's such a stupid excuse!" You huffed, hugging yourself against the growing chill of the cave. The torchlight flickered in Sokka’s hands, casting long shadows against the ancient rock walls. Somewhere in the distance, the faint hum of glowing crystals pulsed softly, as if mocking the two of you.

“Ugh, forget it. Let’s just focus on getting out of here before—"

The flame sputtered.

Both of you froze.

The torch flickered once.

Twice.

Then, with a final, pitiful fizzle—darkness.

A beat of silence stretched between you before Sokka let out a strangled, barely-contained groan. “No, no, no—come on, stupid fire! Work with me!” He shook the torch aggressively, as if sheer willpower could reignite it.

“Brilliant,” you muttered, pressing your fingers to your temple. “We’re actually going to die down here.”

“Okay, dramatic. We are not going to die,” Sokka insisted. “We’re just… temporarily inconvenienced.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “You don’t have another torch, do you?”

“…No.”

“Do you have flint?”

A pause. “…No.”

You inhaled sharply through your nose, trying to suppress the overwhelming urge to strangle him. “So what you’re saying is, we’re stuck here, in complete darkness, because you—the guy who is supposed to be the responsible one—forgot to bring a backup torch?”

“Hey! That is not fair!” Sokka retorted, waving his arms wildly despite the fact that you couldn’t see him. “Katara usually handles the fire stuff! And you could’ve brought one too, you know!”

"Me! Ugh you're so!"You were about to argue when something caught your eye. A faint glow, seeping into the cavern like a heartbeat.

The crystals.

As your vision adjusted, the darkness gave way to an ethereal blue-green shimmer, illuminating the space around you. The soft light carved out the sharp edges of Sokka’s face, his furrowed brows easing as he, too, noticed the glow.

“Well… that’s kinda pretty,” he admitted.

You exhaled a laugh, some of the tension melting away. “Yeah. It is.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The bickering was forgotten, replaced by the strange, unexpected quiet of the cave. Sokka was looking at you now, really looking—his usual smirk absent, replaced by something softer, more hesitant.

The glow of the crystals played with the shadows on his face, making his features seem even sharper, even closer. His blue eyes flickered to your lips, just for a second, before darting away.

“Y’know,” he started, scratching the back of his neck. “That old guy—Chong—he said something about, uh… the whole kissing to escape the cave thing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously suggesting that we—”

“No! I mean—maybe?” Sokka groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Look, I’m just saying, we should consider all options, and if there’s even a tiny chance that smooching is the secret exit button, then—”

You rolled your eyes. “Sokka.”

“I mean, it’s not the worst idea—”

“Sokka.”

“I’m just thinking practically!”

“Are you?” you teased, stepping closer. His rambling cut off immediately.

There was a shift in the air between you, a charge that hadn’t been there before. The usual push and pull of your banter had always been just that—playful, teasing, full of exasperation but never… this. Never something that sent warmth curling in your chest. Never something that made your pulse stutter when he looked at you like that.

Sokka swallowed. “So… should we, uh—”

Instead of answering, you leaned in.

The kiss was hesitant at first—uncertain, warm, the barest brush of lips. But then Sokka responded, his hand instinctively reaching for your waist, pulling you a fraction closer as the glow of the crystals wrapped around you like firelight.

It was brief, soft, but enough to make your heart skip.

When you pulled away, Sokka blinked at you, wide-eyed, like he wasn’t entirely sure what just happened.

“Well,” he breathed. “That was… huh.”

You smirked. “You say that like it was a bad thing.”

“No! Not at all! Just… unexpected.” He paused, lips twitching. “I mean, I always thought if we kissed, it’d be after, like, I heroically saved you from a Fire Nation ambush. Or after I gave an incredibly moving, poetic speech about my feelings. Or maybe even under the moon—”

You snorted. “So you’ve thought about it?”

Sokka immediately went red. “I—I mean—shut up.”

You laughed, and he let out a groan, covering his face with his hands. But then, after a second, he peeked at you through his fingers, a sheepish smile curling at the edges of his lips.

“…Can we do that again? Y’know, just to see if it really helps us get out of here.”

You rolled your eyes, but your grin gave you away. “Sure, Sokka. For strictly practical reasons, of course.”

And as he kissed you again, you could swear the glow of the crystals burned just a little brighter.

[bryan-writes]

Undone— Satan x reader

Summary: You’re in attendance at a demon council meeting and completely distracted and enamored by Satan’s demon form. He notices.

Fluff, a little hint of spice?, small makeout sesh, cheesy flirting, short and sweet, soft Satan <3

credit to @strangergraphics for the dividers!! Check them out <3

Satan’s presence commanded the room. His demon form was a perfect balance of elegance and raw power— the sweeping horns, the golden adornments glinting under the chandelier light, and the sharp contrast of his piercing green eyes against his midnight-black attire. You couldn’t keep your composure as you stood by his side at the demon council meeting. The room was vast and intimidating, but all you could focus on was him. He was magnetic, his every movement exuding authority and grace, and it left you utterly breathless.

When Satan turned to address one of the council members, his voice was steady and authoritative, carrying an edge that made your heart skip. He glanced at you occasionally, offering a faint, reassuring smile when he caught your wide-eyed awe. He noticed, of course. How could he not? Your gaze never left him, and every small movement of his sent a ripple of butterflies through your chest. Your thoughts were a mess, hopelessly entangled in just how breathtaking he looked. You tried to focus on the proceedings, but his presence consumed you, leaving you hopelessly distracted.

Caught off guard, you stammered, “I-I wasn’t… I mean, you just… you look amazing.” Your cheeks burned as the words tumbled out, and you bit your lip, wishing you could take them back. The heat spreading across your face was unbearable.

Satan’s smirk faltered for just a moment, before softening into something warmer. “Amazing, hmm?” He repeated, tilting his head slightly as he studied your expression. He took a step closer, closing the distance between you. “Coming from you, that means more than you know.” His voice dipped lower, and the sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten.

Before you could respond, Satan offered his hand. “Come with me. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

Your hand found his almost instinctively, and you let him guide you out of the council hall and back to the House of Lamentation. The walk was quiet, but tension buzzed between you, unspoken words lingering in the air. You kept stealing glances at him, marveling at how the moonlight seemed to soften his sharp features, highlighting the elegant curve of his horns and the glint of gold on his clothes. By the time you reached his room, your heart was pounding all over again. He opened the door, gesturing for you to enter first, and the familiar warmth of his space immediately wrapped around you. The scent of books and faint traces of his cologne made you feel both comforted and electrified.

The door clicked shut behind him, and when you turned to face him, the intensity in his gaze made you forget how to breathe. Without a word, you stepped closer, your hands sliding up his chest before wrapping around his neck. You whispered his name once, almost reverently, before pulling him down into a kiss.

This time, there was no hesitation. Satan’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him as if he couldn’t bear any space between you. The kiss was hungry and desperate, his usual composed demeanor utterly gone. You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his hair and tugging just enough to draw a soft, breathless groan from him. His lips left your briefly, trailing down to your jaw and neck, leaving you trembling with every touch. His hands wandered, tentative but firm, as if he was memorizing every part of you he could reach.

When you both finally pulled back, his face was flushed, his hair was an absolute mess, and faint marks from your kisses were already visible on his skin. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he stared at you, his emerald eyes darker than you’d ever seen them. You could barely catch your own breath, your lips kiss bitten and buzzing from his attention.

“Stay,” he said suddenly, his voice low and hoarse. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing softly over your cheeks. “Stay with me tonight. Please.”

You didn’t need to think twice. Nodding, you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips, gentler this time, as if to soothe the storm you’d both unleashed. Satan exhaled a shaky breath, guiding you to his bed and pulling you down with him. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as if afraid you might vanish. He adjusted the pillows, ensuring you were both comfortable, before letting his hands rest on your waist, his touch grounding and steady.

Nestled against his chest, you felt his steady heartbeat under your ear, a stark contrast to how yours still felt. Satan buried his face in your hair, his voice a quiet murmur. “You… you have no idea what you do to me.”

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “I think I’ve got an idea.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Still, it’s maddening. You’re maddening,” he murmured, though his tone carried nothing but an intense fondness.

The two of you lay there in comfortable silence for a while longer. You shifted slightly, turning so you could look up at him. His eyes fluttered open, and his gaze softened further when it met yours. Reaching up, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his face, marveling at how dispelled and endearing he looked.

“I like seeing you like this,” you admitted quietly. “All undone. Just for me.”

Satan’s lips quirked into a small, lopsided smile. Only for you,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned down to capture your lips in one last, lingering kiss, his touch slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to savor the moment.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes falling shut as his breathing slowed. The weight of the night began to melt away, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your hand. Whatever the world had in store for tomorrow didn’t matter. For now, you were here, in his arms, and everything felt right.

[askinkiskarma]

☆ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ:

➺ cardigan saga - neteyam x human/avatar!reader

◩ illicit affairs ◪ the archer

➺ high infidelity - neteyam x metkayina!reader x aonung

➺ dancing with our hands tied - neteyam x human/avatar!reader

◩ cruel summer ◪ the 1

➺ monster in me - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

◘ ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ/ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ:

➺ ghostin' - neteyam x avatar!reader x lo'ak

➺ the moment i knew - neteyam x human/avatar!reader | part of cardigan

➺ if this was a movie - neteyam x human/avatar!reader | part of cardigan

➺ moth to a flame - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

➺ i'm all about you - neteyam x human!reader

✎ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ:

➺ interrupted by tuk - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

➺ enemies with benefits - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

➺ vibrating panties - neteyam x avatar!reader

➺ always in his arms - neteyam x human!reader

➺ olo'eyktan neteyam smut - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

➺ all bets are off - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

➺ jealousy, jealousy - neteyam x avatar!reader | part of cardigan

➺ discovering porn - neteyam x human!reader

➺ radio waves - neteyam x human!reader (ft. traumatised lo'ak)

➺ stepbrother's words - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

➺ stepbrother's help - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

➺ oral pleasures I - neteyam x avatar!reader | part of inexperienced series

➺ oral pleasures II - neteyam x avatar!reader | part of inexperienced series

➺ post-training massage - neteyam x omaticaya!reader

➺ music video conundrums - neteyam x human!reader

➺ favourite position - neteyam x reader

➺ biggest kinks - neteyam x reader

[gvcci-bxby]

neteyam's gift

pairing: neteyam sully x omaticaya reader

word count: 142 words

summary: neteyam gives you a gift that shows how much he appreciates you

warnings: none, just super cute fluff

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Your stomach twisted, your skin growing goosebumps, as Neteyem’s fingertips grazed the nape of your neck while he clasped a necklace that he made just for you. It was beautiful an assortment of handpicked stones laced into the weaving. You had been surprised when Neteyam displayed his gift to you, but Neteyam had been planning on surprising you with it all along. Neteyam wanted to give you something that showed he cared for you and thought of you often; a necklace he thought best showcased that. 

Neteyam stands back one he clasped the necklace around your neck, admiring his work that is placed on you. With a smile, Neteyam says “Looks good on you.” 

You blush, his compliment flattering you to your core. You touch the gift on your neck, feeling the intricate work under your fingertips. “It’s beautiful, thank you, Neteyam.” 

[demonvibez]

Oooh there's this scenario I've had in my mind for a while now //0//0// Its pretty generic I think but... Beelzebub + using food during sex.... It's kind of cheesy but like,,, it's so hot too. whipped cream ON his favorite human?? They both taste divine in their own right, but both at the same time?? Sinful.

A/N: not cheesy at all! I think a lot of us would enjoy this scenario. 😈 hope y'all enjoy this drabble, lemme know if you'd like more! ♡ Rating: Explicit (MDNI) Tags: food play, chest play, oral sex, fem anatomy, penetration mention

It all starts out innocently enough, as it normally does when hanging out with your boyfriend. You find him in the kitchen once again, cruising the cupboards for a midnight snack. You surprise him with a few snacks in a hidden drawer of the fridge, and pull him back with you to your room. You can't sleep anyway, so why not indulge?

And while Beelzebub is normally content to munch away on whatever snacks you relinquish to him, instead he intently watches as you enjoy your own food. Do you even know how seductive you're being? The way you lick the whipped cream off of your fingers, the way your eyes roll back a little at the taste. He can't help but for his mind to be clouded with ideas on how he can make your eyes roll back...

Suddenly, a dollop of whipped cream falls down your chest, dripping its way between your breasts. Before you can even reach down to wipe it off yourself, you can feel Beelzebub's tongue gently licking it off of you. Savoring it like a rare treat, the moan he lets out at the taste stirs desire deep within you.

"-Tastes'damn good," he mumbles against your skin as his lips continue, searching for more. He needs to taste more of you, all of you - another shade of his Gluttony taking over. You pull away, only to quickly pull off your top and spray a little bit of the whipped cream onto your nipple. With a mischievous smirk and lustful eyes, you press your breast back to Beel's lips - which he eagerly accepts. The feeling of him swirling your nipple around his tongue has you gasping out tiny little whimpers and moans, eliciting Beel's already aroused cock to grow impossibly harder. He'd love nothing more than to relieve his aching cock right now, stretching that pretty little hole of yours and filling you up with his own cream - but his sin has another idea, for now.

In almost an instant, Beel pulls away from you, only for him to grab the waist of your shorts and rip them off with your underwear in one fluid motion. He snatches the bottle from your hand, a slight shiver going up your spine as he sprays it onto your sex. The moan that escapes your lips as he licks the cream from your clit is loud enough to leak into the hallway - but neither of you care. 

Sweeter than Celestial sugar, he can't get enough of the taste. His favorite human on his tongue, drizzled in the sweetness of the cream - so heavenly, and yet so sinful. Although the more he continues, the more he realizes he prefers to taste only you. He discards the can, his focus never leaving - he is beyond ravenous, and only you can satiate his hunger. His moans rumble deep into your core, the tension within you building as he devours you. Another few swirls of his tongue send you over the edge, euphoria washing over your body as he eagerly laps up every last drop.

And without even the slightest pause, the Avatar of Gluttony continues on, happily sucking on your sensitive cherry as you writhe in pleasure underneath him. Overstimulated after your first climax, you beg and whine, your mind a mess as you grind against his face for more. You just need him inside of you right now, but he just can't find the willpower to pull himself away...

You are addictingly delicious, and Beelzebub will not be stopping until his appetite is fully satisfied.

· demonvibez ♡ 2024 · do not copy, repost or modify · · comments, reblogs and likes are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

[defmxl]

-

Neytiri held her grip on Spider. Her other hand held her knife tightly. Rage burned through her as she stared at the monster before her eyes.

Her grip on Spider's life jacket tightened and she placed the sharp hunting knife back on his neck. Her teeth clenched tightly as she stared forward at the monster before her eyes.

'You really gonna kill a kid, Miss. Sully?' Neytiri's face dropped. How dare he say that when he killed her son? ‘A son for a son.’ Was what she said he has taken her first-born so she’ll take his.

'You're a warrior. Your fight's with me not with the boy.' But Neytiri didn't listen. This monster has no right to speak she will kill his son then kill him. They both deserve death. The pleads that came from her family fell upon deaf ears. A constant ringing rung through her ears and the voice of Quaritch trapped her mind.

'Listen to me you don't wanna do this.' Her mates voice stopped the ringing. Her grip on her knife faltered a bit but she still held it against the demons son. 'Oksy? You don't wanna do this.' His hand reach for her bicep, caressing it in hopes of convincing her to let go of the boy.

'A son for a son.' This time her voice came out non-threatening. Neytiri needed Spider dead. That would make her feel better, Right? She just wanted her son back,

As if her mate read her mind, he spoke tenderly. 'No, No, No.' Jake whispered silently. Neytiri could feel his hands shake violently as his fingers tenderly wrapped around her wrist. 'Let it go. C'mon.' His breath shook as his fingers moved up to her hand. 'Just give me the knife.' Jake grabbed knife in hopes of taking it from her.

'Please.' Kiri's voice came out weak but it had a huge affect on Neytiri.

Neytiri's rage burned down as she heard the soft begging coming from her mate and her daughter. Neytiri finally let out a breath of air. It was as if she were being suffocated but now she felt unconfined. Neytiri hesitantly let go of her knife, letting her mate take it away from her. Neytiri threw Spider behind her but she kept her eye on Quaritch. The kid may be allowed to live at eyes of Neytiri but Quaritch deserves to die, a painful death.

[anintrovertedechoe]

the way mammon loves you is so soft, so tender.

greed is loud and boisterous in his movements, confident in sure with every bold move he takes. gentleness is not in his nature when he is borne of celestial light, nor when his rebirth as an avatar of sin robs him of his purity.

greed’s soul was borne to keep, to hoard, to treasure. claws scraping over his jewels and snarls ripping through his teeth as he takes and takes and takes to abate his greed, soothe the burning sin entwined with his very being.

yet he loves so achingly. fingers tracing your skin like tissue paper about to rip at any second, voice soothing and light as he chatters about nothing and everything at the same time. pinky linking in yours loosely as to give you the choice to let go.

he is still mammon. rough and rowdy and boyish in his charms, ruffling your hair and roping you into one failed scheme after another, but there is also something else in him. something just for you.

greed growls and screeches and takes and takes and takes. but mammon snorts and laughs and has so much to give.

and with you, he is not greed. he is not an animalistic urge to possess.

with you, he is gentle. with you, he is mammon.