#avatar 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.” 

[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.

[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.

[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.

[clairewritesfanfics]

Hello and good morning/afternoon and evening wherever you are. I hope this isn’t too much of a bother, but can we have a water bender reader from the last air bender series?

Author's Note: It’s not a bother! Though since you didn’t give any specifics, I just went and chose a few Marks to write for as I feel like this is one of those requests where grouping the variants together wouldn’t feel right. Also anon, you’re very lucky because I identify as a water bender and yearn for a hydro vision, so it was relatively easy to think of scenarios.

Characters: No Goggles, Prisoner, Shiesty, Sinister

No Goggles Mark

It should come as no surprise that this boy is a freak. He would be the most down with letting you practice your abilities on him.

Water whips and tentacles, encasing him in ice, trapping him in a bubble, and of course, injuring himself so you can heal him. (The last one is something you never asked for but he always does.)

He loves when you puppeteer him with your bloodbending. He can break free whenever he wants, but he is obsessed with your touch, the way you grab his blood and make him do things.

Prisoner Mark

You tried to heal his injuries, but some wounds can’t be healed even with your advanced healing and bloodbending.

You never use your bending against him, not even for practice. Mark hates sparring with you. There is this looming fear in his heart that he’ll freak out and do some serious damage when you use a whip on him, and you just can’t stomach the idea of using your power to hurt him.

Shiesty Mark

He’ll never admit this in a million years, but he is a little jealous of your bending. He can fly, survive extreme temperatures, and bullets bounce off of him, but his main offensive ability is to…to hit things really, really hard.

You can summon waves, create whips, command ice, control the rain, turn living things into puppets, and heal yourself and others. 

You once caught him imitating your movements in the shower, but you decided to spare his feelings and not comment.

Sinister Mark

He isn’t too keen on getting whipped or frozen, but he still enjoys sparring with you, not that you have an actual chance of winning. But it’s fun to pretend, he always tells you.

It’s always a treat seeing you move on the battlefield. The way you wash away opponents with a deluge of ice and rain will never not be breathtaking to him.

He also has a special place in his heart for when you’re healing “comrades” in the medical bay, for when your brows crease and your nose scrunches up as you bark at him “to be useful or get the Hell out of the way.” You’re so hot when you’re bossy.

a/n: are you happy, anon? you got me thinking of my favorite girl again, now i'm going to have to write about the mark variants and a hydro vision holder y/n.

honestly, this request has me thinking up a storm. mark variants as benders, mark variants as vision holders... okay, maybe "storm" is a bit generous HAHAHAHA

also, just a few more requests and I'm finally free (:3」∠)

Disclaimer: The image used in this post does not belong to writerclaire. It was lifted from: https://gamerant.com/invincible-all-alternate-dimension-invincibles-fates/

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

MAIN MASTERLIST

Any questions for the author? Ask here.

[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.

[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.

[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.” 

[sunsents]

Tsu'tey - The Age of Arrogance (6)

FINAL CHAPTER 6 (M)

MINI SERIES MASTERLINK

A/N: This short series is finally over guys!! This story was incredibly hard for me to wrap up, as it overlapped with a difficult time in my life. But I'm back on track and doing so much better, but i have the worst writers block ever like fml

➵ chapter summary: Your pent-up feelings seem to burst out when Tsu'tey makes an announced visit to break down your walls once and for all.

➵ pairing: enemies to lovers, tsu'tey x fem!reader(no use of y/n)

➵ word count: 7.6k

➵ warnings: mature themes (18+), fingering, thigh riding, cursing, dirty talk, tsu'tey is a horny menace, intercourse, face sitting, oral receiving, a whole lotta groping, minors DNI

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

TSU'TEY POV

It's late.

Tsu'tey doesn't know how late, but he knows that no respectable Omaticayan man should be awake at an hour like this. A soft hoot fills the empty silence, the occasional gust of wind rustles the thick leaves of the home tree, but the forest settles into serenity again.

Disturbances only elevate the soothing smell of the woodlands and the occasional cool wind that hits Tsu'tey's cause the tips of his ears and tail to twitch. With his arms slung over his weaving, his lidded eyes almost succumb to sleep.

Thoughts of you always manage to pull him out of his deadly trance. He turns to his side with a huff, feeling too hot. He throws the weaving to the floor and curses in Na’vi under his breath, shivering softly. 

An Olo’eyktan did not run away from the woman he loved. An Olo’eyktan did not run away from feelings. However, it seems Tsu’tey wasn’t a very good Olo’eyktan.

For the first time in his life, he was nervous about following his heart. Expressing his emotions has never been an essential factor in his life till now. He had thrust the notion of mating with you upon your hands when you had been vulnerable with him. Selfishly, he had left you alone in a panic of embarrassment right after confessing his desires for you.

He had tried to make it up to you by setting himself straight and courting you the way in the ways of his people. You deserved so much more, and he was adamant on providing all that he could. 

He offered you fruit and meat to show that he could provide for you. He displayed his physical prowess in front of you to showcase that he would be a desirable and strong partner. He even invited you to his kelku to show that he had prepared it for a second Na’vi. A mate. 

How could he not realize that you weren’t accustomed to the Na’vi mating rituals yet? He should’ve asked JakeSooly for sky-demon mating practices instead; surely that could’ve gone much better than this. 

It’s not entirely his fault, he keeps repeating to himself. It wasn’t in his task to teach you courting when you first arrived in the clan. He was more focused on keeping you alive rather than getting you mated.

He’s been an absolute fool. Eywa, help him. 

As he lies in bed, staring blankly at his woven ceiling, the past few days repeat in his head like a painful memory. 

After the mission,  he spent a sleepless night thinking of your sweet voice and plush body. The torturous hours stretched on until dawn broke, and he sprang up in frenzy to see you. His dignity was trampled on anyway, he was acting on pure instincts for once in his miserable life. 

You weren’t there, and your absence hit his heart more than he liked to admit. Throughout the day, he decided to hunt to clear his thoughts and decide on his next course of action. His hunting trip was occupied by thoughts of you, though. It occurred to him how similar the two of you were, remembering how whenever he made you particularly angry, you would always grab your bow and disappear into the forest. 

This reality only made the notion of spending his life with you fill through his entire being, and he was determined to make it a reality. He envisioned late-night hunting trips with you during lunch, and the fantasies grew worse as dinner followed. Before he knew it, it had been past midnight, and he was gathering yovo fruit to offer it to you the next day– and as he peeled and washed them on the nearby riverbank during the ungodly hours of the night like a madman, he felt the minute remnants of his dignity wash away as well. 

He huffs once again to stop the sad images of his desperation, kicking his silk blanket around. He had to do something other than take out his frustration on his bed. For the sake of his efforts weaving the nest, and his health, he decides he won’t pull through another sleepless night filled with thoughts of you. Finally giving up, he gets up, quickly puts on something respectable, and disappears into the Pandora night.

He memorized the route to your home when you first built it, days of hard work finally paying off when the kelku was sturdy and warm. It was unintentional, this habit of his. He knew the exact steps from his kelku to yours when he had to work with you regarding clan issues, hunting parties, sky-people issues, and many more. You were a team, whether he liked it or not.

His confusing emotions follow behind him like a shadow, always there to attack when the sky grows dark and weary. He needed to think of a plan; a solid one that didn’t involve him saying Please mate me or I will explode as soon as he saw you. Nothing comes to mind as he traverses the thick trees and woven bridges leading to your house. He needed to apologize for his behavior before he said anything else. At least it was a start.

It doesn't surprise him to find your house lit up from inside, glowing amidst the otherwise dark and camouflaged homes. How fitting. What surprises him, though, is the chuckles of a male voice coming from inside.

Your kelku. 

Occupied by a man. 

Heart dropping, he dreads continuing further. His legs fail to listen to the warning sirens going off in his head. 

He smells you before he sees you, ripping the curtains open. The view that greets him grounds his hunches to the wooden floor, and a wave of relief washes over him like a cool shower. You, Jake, Neytiri, and Takuk are sitting on the ground, drinking and snacking on fruit while discussing fervently. Your hands flail around as you explain something, eyes gleaming with mirth. He announces himself by clearing his throat, and you drop the bowl in your hands.

READER POV

Having Jake as your neighbor meant unannounced visits at 12. He had packaged Neytiri and Takuk with his little escapade and brought alcohol into the unplanned gathering. While you didn't prefer to drink this late, you found no harm in innocently sipping the fermented fruit mixture that strangely resembled wine. It must have been the fermentation process, you theorize, setting your cup down. Takuk was always quick to remind you of the name of the mixture, but you always seemed to forget and opt to call it wine.

No amount of non-wine could have prepared you for Tsu'tey showing up at your home, though. Flushed, he pants at the doorstep. 

"Tsu'tey!" you gasp. Jake, Neytiri, and Takuk's eyes follow. "W-what, are you doing here?"

"He's here to join the fun, that's what!" Jake beams, ploughing on. "Come on, man. Si'down!"

In the haze of alcohol, no one seems to realize that Tsu'tey did not know you were having a gathering. Albeit forced. 

He came to your kelku on his own accord with the knowledge that you were alone, in the middle of the night. The connotations of the sentiment are enough to make any Na'vi with common sense think he's courting you.

If you hadn't almost jumped his bones yesterday, you would've laughed at the thought. Now, though, as he stands completely still and looks entirely too uncharacteristic, you are finally certain that he desires you as well.

"I-" he clears his throat. "My finger hurts,"

"Oh, right. Of course," you nod, remembering the pricking incident. Had it caught an infection? "Maybe it's better for Neytiri to help. Since she's tsakarem and all."

Neytiri looks deeply offended. "You were the one aiding him. Do not pass on your responsibility."

Your tail lowers in shame. "Right, sorry."

With a nod, you stand up. Without bothering to tidy your bowl and cup, you approach Tsu'tey with tentative steps. "Must've been a helluva prick, huh? Maybe it's infected..."

Tsu'tey merely hums, stoic. His untethered gaze prickles your skin. "Lead the way, I guess."

Tsu'tey fiercely turns around and strides out the door. You look back at your friends, who all give you dubious looks. Jake raises his eyebrows, and if Neytiri and Takuk had them, you're sure theirs would be in action. With a deep breath, you follow him.

Tsu'tey wordlessly hurries before you. His clenched fists sway, and his tail matches his fervor. You make sure to keep a distance from him to avoid possible injury, trying to match his fast pace with silent maneuvers. 

When he doesn't turn in the right direction, you call out his name. He stops abruptly, turns around, and causes you to stumble into his chest. With a shrill yelp, your forehead meets his chest. Heart catching in your throat, it's difficult to look up into his eyes. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”

Tsu'tey suddenly grabs your hand and drags you deep into the dark forest. You merely try to avoid toppling over his strong body as he pulls you across the foliage. The bioluminescence is guidance enough, but the occasional hoot and yelp of the forest evokes gentle thrills up your spine. You ask where he's hauling ass once, twice, until you decidedly keep silent and let him drag you around like a rag doll. 

He walks with agile strides and finally comes to a halt near the riverbank. Nature's bath bubbles with thermal energy, stirring and churning water like it's an elixir. The warmth it emanates dizzies your head while the misty night hazes your senses.

You look at Tsu’tey in confusion. For the past week, his behaviour has been, undoubtedly, strange. You feel as though you’re being dragged along his schemes as he figures out his issues. It feels unfair to both your desires and your heart. 

“Tsu’tey…” you start with frustration. “I am exhausted. I have duties to attend to. I can’t keep doing this anymore.”

Tsu’tey merely stares at you, magnetized by your presence. You awkwardly stand in front of him next to the riverbank as you adjust the collar of your top. You feel exposed under his surveying gaze, and while Tsu’tey notices your discomfort, he doesn’t bother to cease his stare. 

“You did not come to see me,” he blurts. 

“What?” 

You watch him wince in amusement. After taking a deep breath, he takes a step closer. “After the mission. I waited.”

“Where, exactly?”

Tsu’tey’s tone is gruff when he speaks. You feel your cheeks start to flush, unsure if it’s because of the heat or him. “Tsahik kelku. You did not come.”

“I wasn’t aware that I was supposed to, big guy.” You pause. “Especially after you left without saying anything.”

Tsu’tey falters. “I am not good with words. I am stubborn. Like angstik.” 

You tilt your head in confusion as he rambles on. 

“I am not good with emotion.” He takes your hand and promptly spreads your palm on his bare chest. You feel his heartbeat thunder under your fingers. “But, I can show you. These days, I keep trying to show.”

The soft tuft of Tsu’tey’s rope-like tail trails up your leg until it coils around your thigh. He pulls you closer with this, until you’re flush against his chest. His arms follow his tail, encasing around your waist until you’re trapped between his strong arms. You surely can’t escape now, which is exactly what he wants. His smug smile tells you enough.  

“What? I don’t understand…”

Tsu’tey huffs out a breath of annoyance. “I made this.” He pulls an intricately woven armband from the small pocket of his waistband. “I hunted this morning to provide for you. My kelku, it is prepared for you, tawtute.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

His ears flicker. “JakeSooly told me that this is what you call love. Do you understand?”

You nod slowly. 

It’s taking every bit of strength left in your body to not throw yourself into his thick arms completely. Your heart is soaring inside your chest, and your kuru is aching to latch its tendrils to the man before you. Your entire body buzzes with animalistic instincts, which is quite a revelation on your part. Your human counterparts are trying to keep themselves calm, whereas the Na’vi blood…

You realize you have no reason to hold yourself back, and you pounce in anticipation. To hell with what he was planning on saying, you capture his lips in a heartbeat.

Tsu’tey splutters momentarily, unable to realize you’re kissing him. When the gears in his head turn back on again, he groans into your mouth in anticipation. He kisses you back fiercely, and fuck– it’s electrifying your entire body. His hands wind around your waist and greedily pull you into his chest as he licks his way into your mouth. 

Tsu’tey kisses like he hunts; assured, gentle yet merciless. He doesn’t spare you any mercy as you turn into a whiny mess beneath him. Your hands wrap around his neck to anchor him to your liking, and as stubborn as ever, he grins against your lips and careens his head away.

You ache to feel his lips on your again as he peppers kisses towards your ear. 

“You are very hard to impress, syulang,” he chuckles lowly.

You swat at his arm, trying to ignore the shivers that run down your spine. “I thought you hated me!”

“So demanding,” he whispers while his hands sneakily drift down to the soft flesh of your ass. He kneads the skin gently, causing your hips to bump together.

 It would be downright unfair to deny the thickness of his cock protruding from his tewng. You can almost feel it twitch.

“How can I hate you, vrrtep?” he almost sounds pained. “I am sorry, I have made many mistakes with you. I have never had…guidance with this.”

A soft smile graces your lips at his intimate confessions. Never in your Na’vi life would you have thought Tsut’tey, out of all assholes, would admit he was insufficient at something. “It’s okay, big guy. You made up to me with that kiss.” 

“If that is what it takes for your forgiveness…” he chuckles. He steals another drawn-out kiss from your lips, then pulls away to level his face with yours. 

“But, it is not alright. I was not a good prospect,” he sighs, not breaking eye contact. “I will spend the rest of our days making up. I will prove that I am deserving of you.”

The rest of your days. It would be an understatement to say that you almost exploded. 

“When I first saw you, I was…confused,” he admits, gently caressing your hair. You watch his eyes darken, seemingly replaying the first time you met. 

“How come?” you chuckle. 

“My body…it was reacting.” he catches your gaze again, and you almost shiver at the way he’s looking at you. With dilated pupils, he scans your face diligently, taking in every feature. “I did not know how to approach my feelings. I was scared.”

“So, you’ve decided to hate me instead.”

Tsu’tey groans. “Not hate, sxwang!” 

You chuckle at his struggle.

“This…” he scoffs, shocked. “I am funny to you?”

“Yes,” you answer curtly. 

Tsu’tey holds his heart in mockery. “My heart,” 

You can’t help but let out a loud laugh at his antics. It bubbles from your throat and makes you double over.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, and you realize he’s never turned away his gaze. Embarrassment is an understatement; you’ve felt the urge to hide your face. 

“Pretty syulang. So soft….” he breathes your skin softly, until he groans, then buries his head in the crease of your neck. He sucks in a deeper inhale this time, and you realize he’s scenting you. 

He’s become a slave to his Na’vi desires, and you were no better. “Do you…accept?” he softly kisses your skin– an obscene contrast to his hands that gradually become more and more aggressive. 

“Tsu’tey…” you breathe his name. “You’re an idiot.”

You feel him stop against your neck, then give you a small nip with his teeth. The action is meant to be in mock warning, and you giggle at the soft contact of his lips.

“Only for my muntxate,” he grins against your skin.

You throw your neck back in pleasure and gaze at the sky as he nips and prods at your skin— was this heaven? 

The sky is a maze of stars that glint back at you, and when your vision starts the blur from the searing desires that overtake your body from his welcome prodding, you seriously start to consider the notion. 

Tsu’tey’s languid, wet kisses start to trail down your neck, to the planes of your chest. His lips leave a gentle thrill wherever they touch—— somehow, someway, you’ve become much more sensitive to the feel of his soft lips. 

Even in your daze, it’s become impossible not to notice his labored breathing, and you’re no better. He’s inhaling your skin like it’s his lifeline, licking and engraving his scent onto every inch of you so that you would have no choice but to completely give yourself to him.

The attention is dizzying: having him all to yourself is dizzying. You don’t know what to do with yourself other than smile uncontrollably like a lovesick fool. “Tsu’tey…” you chuckle breathlessly, amazed at his lack of self control. 

How long was he holding himself back? It was most unlike Tsu’tey to lose control this easily. 

“Reytan, that sxkawng,” he growls, falling to his knees before you. “He will know his place.” 

You gape at him. “W-what?”

He looks up at you, and when you meet his eyes, you physically need to hold onto the rocky edge of the riverbed. Dark eyes staring up at you from between his lashes, glassy and yearning. He had gotten off solely on your scent, and the notion is enough to card your hand through his braids, admiring his intricate jewelry.

He purrs into your touch, chest rumbling. You watch his teary eyes flutter as he nuzzles his cheek into your thigh, dangerously close to the heat between your legs,

“Do not act like I have not noticed,” he almost growls, it’s erratic. “He follows you like a pathetic child.” 

“I turned him down,” you state. 

“Good,” he says, looking up again. Maintaining eye contact in classic Tsu’tey fashion, his hands trail up your thighs. Your knees buckle when he roughly grabs your hip, eyes raking around your body hungrily. 

“So beautiful. My strong warrior.” And when he whispers the words into the air, engraving them into your skin with his acceptance of your place in the clan, and in his heart, he carefully undoes the straps of your tewng.

The cold that greets your bare cunt makes you hiss in shock. You don’t realize how wet you are until you look down and notice the wet patch on the piece of cloth. Ear tips catching on fire, you snatch the garment from his hands and hide it behind you. 

Tsu’tey looks at you like you’ve taken his bow from his hands. You hold back a laugh.

He quickly stands up and towers over you with a glint in his glowing eyes.“Nothing to be embarrassed about, tawtute,” he taunts, mouth forming a wide smile. 

He’s all too prideful of his effect on you. “No! God, fuck—“ you have to heave a breath. “This is so humiliating. You didn’t even touch me…I—” 

Tsu’tey takes a small step forward to fully engulf you in his broad frame. His eyes peer down at you with an expectant grin. “You?”

“This just never happened to me before,” you finish lamely.

Tsu’tey’s tail takes flight again. “How sweet,” he coos. “But, vrrtep…” 

His hands carefully grip your hips, then down the small of your back until he’s fully cupping your ass with one, wide palm. He suddenly pulls you into him, pushing his thigh snug between your legs. Your slick folds meet his warm skin, and you have to physically hold onto his chest to keep yourself balanced. “Oh!” you gasp, clenching over nothing. 

He surely feels the movement on his thigh because the way his pupils dilate in pleasure is undeniable. With his big hand still caging your hip, he slowly pushes the soft of his thigh into your cunt. 

You have no choice but to move in suit, and your clit rubs against the slick of his skin just right that a gush of your arousal is imminent.

“I can smell you...” he whispers gruffly, nostrils flaring at the familiar scent. “I know when you are aroused. It is hard to miss.”

You look up at him, mortified. This only meant that…

He lets out a mocking “Ha!” into the air, then dips the palm that was handling your ass further down. His finger grazes against your wet, slick and you gasp. The tight hold on your tewng falters, and he quickly snatches it from your fingers. He plants a quick kiss on your lips, then lets the string clothing dangle between his fingers mockingly. 

“Do not be shy, vrrtep,” he laughs. “This is a smell I know well. I have spent many nights craving it.”

You’ve lost all strength to fight him at this point, falling victim to the warmth of his fingers and the skin of thigh sliding against your cunt. His digits are thick and long—oh so warm that you crave for him to plunge them deep in you and soothe the itch that you’ve been feeling ever since you’ve met him.

“You…you knew, all this time?” you whisper.

“I knew when you were wet,” he explains, “But not why.”

“Fuck– keep doing that…”

Tsu’tey hums, caressing your hair with his free hand, an obscene move to the vile position he has you in. After tossing your tewng somewhere forgotten, he gently rocks your hips, making sure to keep his rhythm torturous.

 “Your smell…it is…” he takes a deep breath, and his eyes flutter close. “It is hard to keep control, yawne.” 

Your eyes gloss over. “Then don’t, please,” 

Tsu’tey pulls away all too suddenly, and you whine at the loss of friction.

“Mawey, yawntutsyíp,” he soothes you. “I will take my time with you.”

You merely nod like an idiot, having no idea how to respond to the man telling you he will take care of you. He approaches you again with calculated steps, tail thrashing wildly in comparison, and when you look down, you gasp at the mouth-watering bulge he’s sporting.

“Tsu’tey! You-“

“My time will come. I will take care of you,” he tells you, grips your hips, and pulls you up to comfortably rest you on his hips. You squeeze your legs around his waist, feeling your pussy flutter by to the contact of his warm skin. Your hands wind around his neck, and you can’t help but cling to him in desperation. 

He keeps a steady hand on your back, occasionally rubbing small circles and soothing you whenever you get particularly impatient. 

He carefully enters the bubbling spring until he’s soaked to his hips, then wades his way through the thermal water towards the seating. With you now perched on his lap, he gently grabs your face and winds his hands around your hair. He connects your lips gently, this time biting your lower lip and watching it bounce back with dark eyes. Your kuru is still out of reach, but your pussy throbs at the prospect of mating him.

“I want you to sit,” he growls, hands gripping your hips when he’s done nipping at your lips. 

“What?” you ask breathlessly. At this point, you don’t trust yourself to form a single thought. 

Without a word, Tsu’tey lies down on the soft grass, legs still in the water. You’re seated on his hips, wondering what the hell he’s thinking as he gazes up at you ravenously. His nostrils flare at your scent, and he wretches you towards his face with two strong hands. 

“Tsu’tey!” you gasp. “Wait, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Sit…please.” he groans, and you feel his body twitch in anticipation.

Who were you to deny such disparity? You cautiously lower yourself onto his face and— shit.

With a spluttering growl, Tsu’tey shoves his nose into the wet heat of your cunt and inhales obscenely.

“Smells sweet, tawtute…so sweet” he growls, forehead scrunching in an entirely new expression you’ve never seen on him before.

You try to find something to hold onto, but your efforts fall fruitless. You topple over in pleasure, and a moan escapes your lips to reverberate around the riverbank. 

“Yes! Shit–” You quickly muzzle your lips with a palm and pray to Eywa that no one is awake at this hour. Tsu’tey disapproves immediately, reaching out to remove your hand and grip it tightly as you ride his face.

Sizzles of fireworks start to flicker between your thighs and travel to your abdomen. You don’t know how or why a simple touch makes you feel this intensely. The only logical explanation is your Na’vi instincts that zero’d on Tsu’tey the moment you saw him. You abandon all logic when his tongue licks inside your cunt, though.

Tsu’tey’s wide arms cage your thighs to keep you at bay, his nose nudges into your clit while his skillful tongue works inside your cunt. It’s wide, you notice, and long. Of course, it is, you think., he fucks you like this—The curve of his tongue jutting into your spongy walls and tasting every drop you grace him with. 

Flashes of white dance across your eyelids when you throw your head back in a soundless gasp, and you feel like you’re levitating. Worst of all, when he sucks with his lips every so often at your clit, you swear a soft profanity at Eywa for not letting you experience this earlier. The friction is so delicious that you start to writhe, legs spasming around his head. 

When he feels you slip away, though, the grip he has on your thigh becomes brutal. You think of the marks his fingertips will most definitely cause, but before you try to imagine what your excuse will be to your friends, he pulls you into his face further. His tongue is so deep like this, you feel like he doesn’t even have to fuck you. You’re fine with just this, as long as he keeps touching you. 

Perhaps it’s the sheer size of Tsu’tey, or that he’s relishing you instead of seeking out his selfish pleasure. This is his pleasure, you realize, he’s getting off on the fact that you’re sitting on his face and fuck– it’s hot.  

A gush of your juices coats his lips, and the desperation to taste you is evident in the whine he lets out. He laps at you like it’s a reward; the action is nothing short of vulgar. He mutters a plethora of Na’vi curses you’ve never heard before, and you frankly don’t care to translate them when the rumble of his voice feels like that. It causes your clit to start throbbing when his caged biceps flex and the smooth of his tongue starts licking the bundle of nerves with rhythmic strokes. 

You’re desperately trying to ground yourself as you search for something to hold, to feel. The pangs of pleasure threaten to rip through your abdomen and blow your mind, but you want this to last. 

Your fingers find home in his delicate braids, desperate to touch him as if he wasn’t already fucking you with his tongue. When you throw your head back in pleasure, you anchor his head with your grip, pushing his nose back into your clit.

His chest starts rumbling in a purr, which breaks you. With a loud moan that reverberates around the clearing, your legs tighten around his head. “Mawey, syulang,” he rasps.  “I have you…” He raises his voice slightly to be heard over your increasingly louder cries.  

“Tsu-tey…ooh, fuck…” You shake obscenely as you orgasm, the pleasure rips through you and tightens your chest. You struggle to breathe, and the only factor that manages to ground you is the soft voice of Tsu’tey as he lets you ride out your high and laps at your release hungrily.

“Taste so good, yawntutsyíp,” his voice almost sounds like a plea to give him more, and lucky for him, your orgasm lasts.

When you’ve finally calmed down, his chest rumbles in satisfaction. Your head feels woozy, you don’t know quite what to think. Or what thinking was, for that matter. You feel cosmic, still sitting on his face.

You’re still sitting on his face. You’re a full-grown woman.

With a hiss, you quickly get up at the realization. Your legs wobble when you stand, and it’s humiliating; both the fact that he caused this with nothing but his tongue, and the fact that he caused this. Tsu’tey, the Omaticayan Clan Leader, who hated your guts for almost a year. 

Tsu’tey quickly gets up to his feet after you. The dark swirl in his golden eyes alerts you, you don’t see the calm and collected Tsu’tey behind his gaze. He becomes entirely unknown as he chases your scent desperately. His arms wind around your thighs once more to stabilize your weakened legs, and you’re almost grateful for it–almost.

 He lifts you with ease, carrying you into the water and pressing your body close to his. 

“Careful, Ma ___,” his head dives between the crook of your neck again.  “Your legs are shaking like an angstik in heat.” 

His tone isn’t gentle, though; it makes you feel humiliated. The words are merely whispered against your skin as he starts to bite and nip around your chest. “Was it good?” 

The question isn’t even rendered because of its pure absurdity. Was it good?

“Tsu’tey, I don’t think I’ve ever orgasmed that hard in my life.”

You feel his face stretch between your neck, and to cause your ruin further, the tanhi that cover his body glow bright. “Good,” he purrs, deep from his chest. “I will take care of you.”

And that, he does. His hands quickly undo the tie of your top, then toss it to the clearing. His face is so close like this, you see that his lips are coated in a thin sheen of your orgasm. The wetness of your release is all over his face, glossing his chin and his neck jewelry.  

The visual orgasmic on its own, 

“You make sweet noises, little syulang…” When he lingers, his eyes widen with a dangerous flash. 

The heavy rise and fall of his chest alerts you. You don’t wait for him to elaborate, merely look down at his tewng between your bodies and gasp. “Tsu’tey, that must hurt,” you whisper.

His tail comes up to brush on the small of your back teasingly. You jump at the sudden contact, arching your back and presenting Tsu’tey with a view of your chest that has his mind reeling. He dips down to suck in a breast, and when he hears the noises you make, he kisses his way to your other nipple to give it just as much attention Your hips jut forward at the feel of the soft feather and his needy kisses. 

Tsu’tey hisses, kissing up to your neck. “Such a thoughtful vrrtep, thinking about my cock like this…” 

In contrast to his calm voice, his cock throbs between your bodies– if you were to remove his tewng you’d feel the tip prod on your inner thigh. It’s right there, easy access if you just shove your hand between your bodies, and the flimsy piece of string that’s holding your self-control is about to snap. 

Your entire body buzzes with instincts. “Please,” you whine, eyes fluttering. “More…just fuck me already.” 

“Commanding little thing.” With that, he slowly undoes the string of his tewng. He’s making you wait, you realize, savoring every inch of your blown out eyes and buzzing body so he could use the obscene visual to fuck into his hand during late nights. 

When his tewng drops, you can’t help but mutter a soft profanity at the sheer size. He’s much more attractive than you initially imagined, saying Tsu’tey’s hung is an understatement. You rationalize that most Na’vi men are, but damn.

Purple veins compass the sides of his shaft, his tip an angry bright blue. Precum drips from his tip at the mere sight of your eyelashes batting up at him as you look between his pleasure driven face and his hard cock. 

“Do you see now, arrogant girl?” he hisses, then lays you down on the lush grass. “This is what you do to me.” 

Gripping your thighs, he spreads them apart. When he’s satisfied with the position he has you in, his tip slowly prods at your entrance. He throws his head back in pure bliss and mutters a soft Na’vi profanity under his breath. He never ceases his gaze, though, you realize he can’t, physically adamant on constantly watching your every reaction like a hawk.

The lust in his gaze devours your naked body whole as he gazes at your heat. His tail is swishing lazily, content.

“This,” he grunts, teeth gritted. He thumbs your clit while pushing into you patiently with languid strokes. “It is responsive.”

You realize he’s talking about your cunt, and you can’t help but laugh. “Is that— ah fuck, a good thing?” 

It’s hard to focus on anything other than his thick cock being buried to hilt between your walls, but alas, you try to keep your sanity intact. The stretch is delicious, you can’t help but throw your head back when he fully palms your clit lovingly, pressing his fingers into your abdomen and feeling the girth of him inside you. 

His thighs flex, abdomen clenched. He doubles over your body and grips the overgrown grass around you. His knuckles turn white, and the restraint he has is almost admirable. 

“Again, with—ahh, stupid questions,” he huffs, then grips your thighs tighter to fully pull you in. With a guttural moan, he buries his head between the crook of your neck, then has the audacity to fucking whine. A long, drawn-out, and needy sound that has your walls fluttering. Your body buzzes with pleasure. 

“What is it, pretty girl?” he drawls, chuckling deeply. “You always have something to say.” 

You let out a breathless “Tsu’tey,” in warning, then let your fingers rake over his braids lovingly. He purrs at the soft action, starting to hump into you impatiently. He’s aware of your pleasure all the while, leveling his face with yours once again to watch your reactions. 

“Oh—Fuck, yes!” you groan, hips jutting out to meet his thrusts. The movement is vile and messy, but it’s barely enough to fulfill your needy ache. He’s filling you up deliciously, and you dare to want more from him, eager to take whatever he gives you. 

Your instincts are going haywire, and if they aren’t soothed soon, you’re sure you’re going to lose your sense of reality. 

Cock-drunk and in a haze, you make grabby hands at Tsu’tey kuru. When he notices your actions, he chuckles breathlessly, then makes an almost comical attempt to stop his hips from thrusting into you. He fails, miserably so, then grips the sides of the lush grass and shuts his eyes tightly. 

You feel his cock throb around your gummy walls and whimper, then watch with blown-out eyes as he grabs his kuru and brings it forward.

“My love, I see you.”

It’s the significance of the English term of endearment that brings tears to your eyes. This time, he isn’t talking in mocking or disdain. He’s integrating your roots into his people’s most sacred ritual– an act that requires the utmost vulnerability and trust. 

“I see you,” you whisper, breathless.

He looks at you so lovingly that you freeze momentarily to embed this scene into the center of your memories, for it to later be on replay every night as you fall asleep next to him.

Quivering with excitement, you grab your kuru and bring it forward. The tendrils reach for Tsu’tey so naturally that you’re surprised you didn’t notice how much your body craved him when you first met him. He is no better, his breath ragged and quick. 

When you finally bring them together, all breath is knocked out of your strong blue lungs. Tsu’tey’s pupils dilate before you, mouth opening in a soundless gasp that has both of your bodies freezing. 

“Ma ___.” He whines, clenching the wildgrass that cushions around you. 

The feeling is unlike anything you’ve felt before, it doesn’t compare to your direhorse, nor your Ikrana. It's the drum of his rapidly beating heart that alerts you first, and your soul aligns in rhythm.

You can not only feel him, but feel with him. The intense desire he’s harbored for you, the torturous days he’s had in your mere absence. The jealousy, the hurt, the confusion, the love. 

The love that’s reflected in his eyes as he sees your soul with a wanton gaze. 

The pleasure that runs through you like wildfire makes you throw your head back and clench your body. Fuck— you needed to hold onto him more than ever now. This is what they mean, you realize, you’re existing as one. 

Tsu’tey watches you with glossed eyes as you try to fuck yourself with him, an action you’ve been doing unintentionally. 

“Ma-mawey,” he gasps, thighs clenching and twitching in pain. Your body is entranced by the plethora of feelings and instincts that surge through your veins. He’s no better; you can feel it. His cock is throbbing inside you, and his control is about to snap. 

“Demanding little–ohh Eywa!” 

You watch Tsu’tey’s eyes squeeze tight as he doubles over, and a wave of intense pleasure washes over you. You arch your back beneath him and realize it’s you causing this. His hysteria is yours, the manic animal inside him battling with his self control to burst free and fuck you into the plush grass until your imprint is on the soil. 

He thrusts once, slowly– it’s drawn out and numbingly torturous. Your legs quiver in anticipation, and you can’t even decipher why he’s making you both suffer, but you’ll ask him later. Later, when you’re collected and can think straight, because right now you don’t think you can formulate a cohesive sentence. 

He moves again, deeper and harder this time. His cock slides inside you slowly, the warmth filling you to brim and soothing the ache you feel in your abdomen. He’s working you both up to it, though painful, the pleasure is drawn out and deliciously anticipatory.

He captures your lips, then starts a rhythmic thrust into your cunt. It’s gradually merciless and raw, searing through your body. It works, you open deliciously, pushing you to feel toe-curling pleasure that has you grabbing and clawing at his back desperately. 

“What an obedient pussy,” he whispers between your lips. “I have you, muntaxte.” he soothes you, words slipping from his lips like honey

You can feel how he loves how desperately you’re trying to get off on what he provides you. He loves to see you, a desperate, cock stuffed fool. Cursing your attached kuru’s, he clicks his tongue when he realizes you’re annoyed. With an all-too familiar cocky smirk, he fastens his pace, this time starting to slam into your cunt with ease. 

“You can take it,” he grunts, “Be a good girl and take—” another hard thrust. “it!”

The press of his thighs to your ass makes the thick of his cock hit new spots, imprinting the shape within you so no one else can satisfy you the way he does. He draws back fully, then rams into you brıutally, hitting newer, deeper angles as groans rip out between his kisses. 

You feel your body give out amidst the pleasure, throwing your head back and clenching your thighs to calm the sizzles of your orgasm that threaten to run through your abdomen. Sensing your need, Tsu’tey thumbs your clit lovingly, then circles the small bud to coax sweet noises from your lips

He drowns them out with his lips, though, sushing you all the while and warning you to keep quiet. ‘These sweet noises belong to me, vrrtep.’ he tells you, his voice accompanied by the sinful squelching of his cock stuffing you full– and when you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in deeper, you swear you see Eywa herself in the stars. 

“Such a demanding pussy– yes!” he chants. “Look at you, pretty girl.”

He cups your cheek gently as he grinds into you, “Look how obedient you get with my cock stuffed inside you.” 

“Fuck– s-shut up!” You clench around him like steel vice in frustration, and the whines that rip out of the man on you send a flutter through your cunt.

Before you can even react or warn him, your orgasm washes over you so cruelly that you have to hold onto Tsu’tey to anchor you back down to reality. The intensity has you gasping for air, until you realize it’s not just you, it’s him as well, that you’re feeling. The throbbing of his cock as he releases inside you, the warmth making you clench around him like vice. 

He lets you ride out your highs generously, holding you close to his chest and whispering sweet words in your ear in Na’vi. His cock stays stuffed in your fucked out walls, twitching occasionally and causing a spasm to shoot up your leg. You wince in overstimulation, both yours and his that’s thrumming from your connected kuru’s. 

“Mawey,” he kisses into your skin, then carefully pulls out. The immediate loss is evident, and no thanks to your Na’vi instincts, your chest starts to ache. 

Tsu’tey feels you immediately, hugging you tighter to his bare chest and kissing your temple sweetly. “It is okay, I have you,” he reassures you in hopes of calming your wanton ache. 

You almost bawl, how fucking sweet can he get? Did he always have it in him to be like this? 

You realize he’s been playing you this entire time. Nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck, you make a mental note to get back at him. Not now,  though. 

Now, you’ll enjoy every inch of his sweet attention. 

“Okay…” you say lamely, unsure of what to say to him. You have the rest of your life to figure that out, at least.

Tsu’tey reaches for a makeshift loofah and herbs near the edge of the hot spring, making sure to keep a stable hand on their back the entire time. Gently— you’ve never imagined Tsu’tey and gentle would be in the same sentence, alas, he gently starts to wash your body. He lathers the net on your lower back, then watches the hot water run down your muscles and skin he’s been gripping with desire moments ago.

The act in itself is so intimate, which is an obscene statement because Tsu’tey just fucked you into next week. 

“Take a picture,” you muse, “It’ll last longer.”

Tsu’tey makes a noise of discontentment. “What is picture?” 

Thankfully, your mate is too Na’vi to decipher the cliche line you’ve pulled on him. His questions are stubborn, though, just like him. “Where do I get one…do I have to grab it?”

You can’t keep your laughter at bay after that comment. It was just so easy to imagine him frantically barging into the science outpost, screaming about wanting a picture with you. The look of horror on your human friends’ faces would be priceless. 

Maybe you should put him up to it…

“Laughing at me again?” 

You realize you’ve gotten lost in your comedic fantasy, and god forbid Tsu’tey doesn’t have your attention for more than two seconds. 

You unlatch one hand from around his neck and start playing with his bead-adorned braids. “I’m smiling because you're funny.” 

Tsu’tey’s familiar forehead scrunch graces your eyes, and you let go of his braids to smooth it over with a thumb. “Stop, you’ll get wrinkles.”

Tsu’tey scoffs. “Sky people worry about weird things.”

You pause. “You’re right.”

After you’ve dried off and worn your clothes again, Tsu’tey makes sure to guide you both back to his home. Throughout your walk, he makes it very clear that you will be living together from now on; he will have it no other way. He even goes out of his way to grab your - albeit very minimal - belongings from your kelku and move them to his. 

When you make it to his home, though, you fight the urge to run back. 

“What the fuck, Jake!”

Jake, Neytir, and Takuk seem to have put the pieces together in your absence. To your horror, they’ve gathered the rest of your friends in Tsu’tey’s living room with more alcohol and food, happily expecting you to return home and embarrass you to pieces. 

“Congrats, brother!”

Jake stumbles to Tsu’tey and pulls him inside. “This calls for a celebration!”

The rest of your drunkard friends raise their glasses in a toast. Neytiri haphazardly stands up and pulls you into a hug. “You are a mated woman! Tsahik of our clan!” she cheers on, shaking you around with delight. 

You sigh and look at Tsu’tey for help. To your surprise, he’s already staring back at you with such love and adoration that even the havoc of your alcoholic friends becomes delightful.

[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.

[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! ♡ ·

[stupidmammonsimp]

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.