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sketch, teaser

a little teaser for upcoming work on ao3 (it'll be angst/(false) comfort)

finished version

Little Gift - Snap

Summary: Your temper may be your down fall.

Warnings: DUBCON / NONCON, MDNI, aged up characters, NSFW, explicit content, kidnapping, rough, humiliation, alien/human relationship, swearing, power imbalance, yandered qualities, posessive behavior, dom/sub dynamics, punishment, etc.

A/N: Happy New Years, my lovelies ;)

Adult Neteyam pic by Cinetrix

Little Gift Masterlist

For lack of a better, less vulgar term, pussy whipped is how you would describe Neteyam. From the first time he sheathed himself inside your tight warmth there has been seemingly nothing else on his mind but a repeat. And while your lips spew endless complaints and cursed remarks, the honey between your legs is all the encouragement he requires. 

It's frustrating. Draining. Yet an inconvenience that is hard to voice properly when your legs are trembling around his waist and synapsis going off like fireworks until the post orgasmic haze drowns you in its wake. There is nothing left but the caress of his skin. The hardness that fills you to the brim. Even the taste of his seed coated along your tongue and throat. 

He has become your inescapable vice

There are benefits, however. Because when you're lying there with nothing but static bliss lining your consciousness, Neteyam swarms in that bliss too. And it’s only taken two days to identify that as the opportune time to sway his decisions.

Neteyam will never let you go. That is a reality you have begrudgingly come to acknowledge. 

But there are ways to coerce him into giving you certain privileges. A few sweet words with his cock still sunk inside of your heat and you had secured a new, more modest, loincloth and more importantly, your precious music box. This new sway was slowly making your life in the Olo’eyktan’s grip more comfortable. Perhaps too comfortable. 

When eclipse’s glow glimmers through the marui walls and a warm large frame curls around your form as you sleepily watch the ballerina twirl, it's hard to keep that small smile from your lips. Difficult to yearn for the nights you spent alone in your twin sized bed with only the cold metal walls for company. And even when the Olo’eyktan’s deep voice rumbles that it’s time for sleep and a hand reaches over to shut the box, you can’t stop yourself from following his command as skilled fingers run through your hair. 

You’re losing the battle but that won’t keep you from fighting to win the war. 

Snuggling in Neteyam’s grip may have its perks but there are still constant annoyances that strengthen your disdain for this new life. The biggest of which being his younger brother. The same male that had not only watched you struggled upon the tarmac of Bridgehead but happily participated in your humiliation without a second thought. Perhaps your hatred would not run so deep if Lo’ak had at least shown an ounce of shame for his actions but his demeanor proves to be quite the contrary. 

You haven’t spoken to him since the RDA’s departure, nor do you want to, but Lo’ak is always there. In the midst of bustled village life his eyes pin on you. With Neteyam is dragging you along the forest floor with a firm grip on your wrist, Lo’ak’s lips curve into that same cocky smirk. 

Avoidance is the strategy you cling to so when Neteyam wakes to inform you of your babysitter for the day, panic springs forward quickly. To your dismay even the sweetest words and filthiest of touches does not sway Neteyam from his decision. Lo’ak has once again become your default supervisor after the stunt you had pulled with Spider. 

Pussy whipped he may be but even Neteyam reaches his limit after too much whining and begging. A firm promise of punishment if you continue is what it takes to finally stop your coercion. 

So here you sit. Defeated and silent in Lo’ak’s marui, counting down the hours until Neteyam returns. 

Lo’ak, who tends to a simple meal over the flames, periodically burns his attention into the back of your head. Fighting the urge to squirm under the awkward circumstances you opt to distract yourself by observing his humble abode. It’s different from Neteyam’s. Where the Olo’eyktan must have everything in its rightful place and organized at all times, Lo’ak is at ease with some clutter and a relaxed space instead. The only items that have a strict placement are the guns hung across his wall. No doubt high enough to be out of your reach. 

“Is this how it’s going to be?” 

You don’t respond, motionlessly faced away. 

“Silence forevermore to punish me for my actions?” Lo’ak lets out a mocking sigh of sadness. “However will I survive?” 

It takes effort to halt your teeth from grinding. Na’vi senses are much more responsive to sound than your own and you’ll be damned if Lo’ak gets even an inkling of how much he is bothering you. Like a statue, you remain still and silent. 

“Although I’m not sure how good of a consequence it is. It may be nice having some peace from your constant whining.” 

Despite your better judgment you sneak a glance at him from the corner of your eye. As expected, Lo’ak is on his haunches over the fire with an ease only he can muster under the tension in the room. His tail curls casually along the floor but his ears are perked, awaiting a response. 

This is only meant to get a rise out of you. It seems bugging you is one of his favorite past times so bugged you shall not be. 

“Or maybe this is my reward instead, for bringing you to such bliss.” He muses and heat rises like an inferno along your skin. The vein along your forehead becomes more pronounced. “What can I say? I believe in the importance of a woman’s pleasure.” 

Rage springs you to your feet in an instant, turning on your heel to glower at him. 

“I was in trouble and you took that remote and-”

“And helped you enjoy a moment that would have otherwise been depressing for you. Something I wouldn’t have to have done if you hadn’t decided to come watch the torment yourself.” He quips back, brows raised as he holds your stare. 

Small hands clenched into fists, you can’t stop your feet from stomping towards him. 

“You are an absolute idiot!” 

“Maybe so but even an idiot like me can see right through you.” 

“Is that so? And what wise insight does the mighty prince have on me?” You sneer, watching his tail perk up at the sound. 

“I saw the way you looked at me.” 

You can feel your expression falter as your mouth runs dry. 

“What?”

“I saw the way your eyes wandered and hungrily took in every inch of me. Even better, I could smell the shift in your scent, the stronger perfume it took on.” It’s his own eyes now that dilate and pin you into place. Much like his brother, Lo’ak has a knack for sending a devilish shiver just from the fixation of those golden orbs. 

“You’re crazy.” Swallowing the saliva pooling along your tongue, you take extra care to keep yourself from stuttering. Especially when Lo’ak slowly takes a crouched step forward. Stubbornness keeps your feet planted. 

“For a moment I thought the guards would be the only thing keeping you back from crawling to my feet.”

“Fucking delusional asshole you-”

“That’s not a criticism, tawtute.” Lo’ak’s holds his hands up in surrender. “Neither is it a complaint.” He shrugs, carefully bringing him one step closer. Suddenly you are regretting not fighting Neteyam on taking your breathing serum this morning because that glass mask would at least provide some illusion of protecting your personal space. “But it is hypocritical to chew me out for playing with that remote when you were drooling over me the entire time. Don’t you think?”

Perhaps being around the Na’vi has caused you to pick up more of their habits than you’ve realized because at those words you can feel your own lips curling back, ready to bare your blunt teeth in a vicious snarl. Keeping a cool composure is seeming less and less enticing with every word that comes out of Lo’ak’s twisted lips. 

“I think Neteyam will have quite a few things to say when I tell him his younger brother has been lurking too close for comfort.” You grit out between clenched teeth. Lo’ak doesn’t meet your anger with his own. In fact, it is the glimmer of mischief remaining in his features that has your rage reaching new levels. It’s difficult to control your temper when those pearly whites are flashing back at you with glee. 

“Well,” One last step and you can feel the brush of his breath. “Lucky for you when Neteyam is in a good mood he has been known to share.” 

It’s difficult to say which actions set you off. Perhaps it’s his insinuation or maybe the way Lo’ak’s eyes bare into you without a flicker of shame. But whatever it is, one thing is for certain, you wish for nothing more than to wipe that grin off of his face. To make him hurt.

Those wishes, however, are what has your body moving on instinct instead of reason. Because before you can blink your hands are wrapped around the one vulnerability Lo’ak has, the only way to make him hurt. His kuru. And the next, your teeth are viciously sinking into that thick braid. 

That grin is whipped away and with it comes a shout that echoes through the village. 

It’s too late to go back now. Once the adrenaline, anger, and temporary triumph at seeing Lo’ak crumple has dissipated you are left to stew in the reality of your situation. Neteyam is going to whip your ass. And with your hands tied to a stump outside of the healer’s tent while Lo’ak is treated there is very little you can do to stop that. 

More likely than not, Neteyam already knows what has occurred. A few Na’vi had flown off mere seconds after Lo’ak had entered the tent and you would bet your right hand they were looking to report to the Olo’eyktan. So he knows.

Just because he knows the story, however, does not mean there isn’t a chance to tell it from your perspective. Preferably before a certain Omatikaya prince spins it his way. So as your palms become sweaty and the minutes pass by, your eyes roam the forest like a guard dog on watch. They search for the very first glimpse you can catch of Neteyam, your first lines of defense locked and loaded. 

When Neteyam’s ikran lands you hastily sit up on your knees. He walks with a purpose, long legs carrying him towards the tent at a pace you would never be able to match even without being tied in place. 

“Neteyam!” You call for him, tugging at the bonds. Golden eyes flicker your way but his expression remains blank. “He was taunting me!” Perhaps not the best defense at a time like this but the lack of Neteyam’s attention has you blurting out the first thing to come to mind. “He was saying all of these awful-”

“Stay here, pet.” He says evenly as if you have any other choice with your wrists tightly binding you into place. And that’s all you receive before he is ducking into the tent. 

Time ticks by at a taunting pace. Every minute that those voices rumble from the tent in a foreign tongue is one minute more that you are left to hypothesize what punishment awaits you. You’ve acted out before, escape attempts, attitude, starving yourself, but nothing like this. Besides the consequences of tricking Spider you’ve never gone out of your way to hurt someone else. All of those past episodes have been solely focused on running away. 

Neteyam has been very clear on how he feels about such disobedience, but this infraction is new territory. Territory you should have never let yourself fall into when you’ve seen how creative Neteyam can be. Dread sinks low and deep as you sit there staring at the canopy above. 

There’s no guessing what tale Lo’ak is weaving inside of that tent but you can only imagine that the other Na’vi exiting to give them privacy is a bad sign. Their voices are kept low, not that it matters when they remain speaking in the Na’vi tongue. Every now and then you hear your name thrown into the mix. At some point it starts to feel intentional, yet another way to have your anxiety spiking.

You’re sorry.

You really are.

Sorry that your own temper has landed you into this mess and sorry that all the odds are now stacked against you. Is that not enough? You’ve been a dutiful ‘pet’ for Neteyam these past few days, despite your own objections. You haven’t tried to run away in almost a week now and you’ve even taken a break from ripping apart the bow Neteyam ties around your neck. 

And perhaps, if Neteyam knew better than to leave you with his arrogant little brother there would be no injury in the first place. One Sully male is enough to deal with, but two is where you draw the line. Two sets of golden eyes that see right through you. Two nearly identical smirks that fall into place the second you are trapped into feeling your body’s natural needs. 

Lashing out at Lo’ak may put you in deep water with Neteyam, but maybe if you’re lucky it may also keep his brother off your back for a while. Give you a moment to breathe away from that penetrating gaze. 

Neteyam’s footsteps interrupt your train of thought. Scrambling to sit up again you rush to get a few words out, but he is faster. The Olo’eyktan unsheathes his knife, cuts your bonds and calmly takes a hold of your arm.

“Teyam,”

“Time for dinner, pet.” Pulling you gently onto your feet your neck cranes to get a better look at his expression. Nothing but a cool exterior to observe and while the absence of red hot anger should be relieving it has a countering chilling effect instead. 

That aloof composure remains throughout dinner even as your explanation spews out messily. Neteyam doesn’t respond, doesn’t react. He simply eats.

And that detached presence sends goosebumps along your arms. 

You never thought you would come to this point, but you start to wish instead for him to lash out. Perhaps sink you under his larger frame and give you that scolding look that still holds a shadow of amusement. You would brace yourself for a night of pleasure and pain mixed into one and then it would be over by morning. But this…

The way he’s casually sipping at his cup of pxir feels so jarring you can barely cope. Anything is better than trying to navigate the unknown. You start to wonder if he has even heard a word you’ve said. 

“You need to eat.” That deep voice has you perking up immediately. 

“I’m not very hungry.” Not with your stomach doing somersaults in anticipation. However, Neteyam’s mask splits for a moment to give a knowing look that reminds you exactly what happened the last time you tried to starve yourself. Taking the hint and not wanting to dig your hole even deeper you quickly reach for a piece of fruit and plop it into your mouth.

Apparently it is not enough since the male reaches over with one arm and swiftly lifts you up onto his lap. 

“I can-” Another look. “Fine.” You relent, letting the Olo’eyktan feed you piece after piece by hand. 

Feeling his warmth pressed against your back is strangely comforting. You blame it on forced acclimation. Regardless, the silence is torture and your mind has already done enough of that on it’s own, thinking up every possible outcome that awaits you. 

“Are you even mad at me?” You blurt out. Neteyam’s hand pauses from reaching up to your lips with another piece of fruit. “I mean, am I in trouble?” 

“You are.” When that piece of fruit fits past your lips the tips of his fingers linger on your tongue a tad too long. Neteyam’s braids brush over your shoulder, colorful beads clanking together. 

“Okay so then, can we talk about the consequences?” The last thing in the world you wish to discuss but perhaps it’s too late to negotiate getting off scot free. You may as well strive to lessen the repercussions. “Because I am sorry, Teyam. Truly-”

“I’ve already decided on your punishment.” Not a sliver of cold malice or dark intent in his nonchalant tone. 

“Alright,” You swallow the lump in your throat. “Can you perhaps enlighten me on what that will be?” It’s a struggle to keep your voice even and calm. Is he drawing this out on purpose? What is the point? Push you into a panic attack?

“After dinner you are going to apologize.” 

“But Neteyam I am so-”

“To Lo’ak.” 

You spot said person across the fire. He chats warmly with friends and family nearby but there is a bandage woven into his braid just barely noticeable. You have blunt human teeth. He is sure to heal within a day or two with little discomfort. 

“Is there any alternative?” Neteyam's face swings down into view and your script changes immediately. “Yes, apologizing...yeah that,”You clear your throat. “That sounds very reasonable.” 

 The rest of dinner is spent trying to conceal your sour disposition as Neteyam traces teasing circles along your legs and inner thighs. It’s a confusing set of sensations and emotions that ultimately have your heart rate racketing higher steadily. There are times where you wish dinner to never end and others where you are chomping at the bit to get things over with. 

The most disturbing, however, is that voice in that back of your head saying this has all been too simple. Apologizing to Lo’ak will be by far one of the most humiliating things Neteyam has ever made you do but surely he has more in store for you after that. The eldest Sully son is too elaborate and thorough to let you off the hook so easily. 

Whatever Neteyam has brewing for you after this apology is sure to be something that will allow very little sleep tonight. 

Neteyam waits until the last embers of the fire have burned out. He warmly bids several Na’vi goodnight and well wishes and even volunteers to help clear away the dinner supplies. Lo’ak is nowhere in sight, although you can’t remember at what point he had left the scene. Still kept under the Olo’eyktan’s watchful eye from a distance you endure yet another round of drawn out waiting. 

For a moment you are tempted to hope that Neteyam has forgotten all about the apology. Or perhaps Lo’ak has somehow become preoccupied and his absence will be your saving grace. 

That hope is foolish and fleeting. You know better than to assume short memories when it comes to the Sully men. So when Neteyam reaches his hand down and you sheepishly take it, you prepare yourself for the long road ahead. 

Village life is dying from a simmer into a low hum as families tuck away into their marui. Only a few stragglers are dotted along the forest that Neteyam leads you through. The path is not one that you recognize, however it slowly becomes clear that the two of you are heading away from the village. It leaves an eerie feeling in your bones. 

Neteyam has promised to never allow harm to come your way but…you bit his brother today. Would that be a sufficient reason for him to lose patience with you all together? And if so, what would disposing of you entail? Facing the tip of a Na’vi knife or being set free into that dangerous den that is Pandora? 

Subconsciously, you tuck against his side for comfort. 

This is paranoia speaking. The predictable culmination of your worries and anxious thoughts to form a spiral you can tumble down. Recognizing this does not slow down the beat of your heart but it does help your mind grab on to the tangible facts. 

Just one simple apology then you can take on the rest afterwards. 

Away from the bustle of the village and deep settling fires, you can only depend on eclipse’s glow for visual. Which is why you hear Lo’ak before you spot him. He sets rippling waves along the river to your right, his silhouette just barely visible in the dim glow as he emerges calmly. Squinting your eyes, you can see him lazily running a hand through his braids, pushing them away from his face. 

“You actually showed up.” He calls, although you can’t quite tell if he is talking to you or Neteyam. Long, leisurely strides take him back onto shore. Proximity allows your eyes to become snagged on the trails that drops of water create along his sculpted torso all the way down to his thighs. 

“Don’t patronize. Oeyӓ tiyawn [my love] is nervous.” Neteyam replies and immediately you look up at him in silent betrayal. The Olo’eyktan doesn’t bother to veer his gaze away from his brother, instead just absentmindedly running a hand through your hair in comfort. No, to stroke you like a true pet. 

Perhaps the nature of this punishment is more psychological than physical after all. Humiliation is sure to be a dutiful reminder to behave. 

It sure feels that way when Neteyam settles a hand on your upper back to gently push you forward with an encouraging, “Go on, pet.” 

Lo’ak, still squeezing the water from his braids, takes a seat on a nearby stump. Legs spread and brows raised, he waits expectantly. The idea of clawing his eyes out looks all the more appealing with every passing second. At least then you would find a reprieve from that sparkling look of sinister mischief. The way the corner of his lips twitch as if fighting back a smirk makes you feel that much more on display, and that much more ready to resort to violence. 

“Little gift.” Neteyam calls in reminder, a steel edge starting to lace his patient tone. 

Gritting your teeth, you avert your gaze away from the male in front of you in hopes of finally forcing the words out. 

“I’m sorry.” Spoken between your teeth, it’s barely comprehensible. You don’t need to look at Lo’ak to feel the amusement rippling from him. No doubt the bastard is happily enjoying your struggle. 

“Speak up, tiyawn.” Neteyam coaxes, although both of you know there is no need. Na’vi hearing is easily sharp enough to pick up on what you’ve said. 

“I am sorry.” You breathe out on an exhale. “I shouldn’t have bit you.” 

Squeezing your eyes shut your brace for the imminent teasing. He is bound to make some snarky comment or quipping tease but that doesn’t mean you have to look at him while he does so. 

“Hm, that’s alright, tawtute [human]. We all get a little wound up at times.” Although upon peeking one eye open that lazy grin is in place, there is no other retort tacked at the end. And for a moment it seems that Lo’ak is not even bothered by what has happened. That only makes you more uneasy. 

“That’s my good girl.” The sensual praise brushes your shoulders, quickly making you realize how close Neteyam now kneels behind you. “Now give him a kiss.” 

You screech out of Neteyam’s embrace, flipping around to face him at breakneck speed. “What? No!”

That patient mask is still in place, although Neteyam lets out a small sigh. Surely this is a joke, a mean one that you wouldn’t put above either of them playing. You wait for Lo’ak’s laugh. Wait for Neteyam’s possessive reassurance that your lips only touch his. 

Neither come. 

“Don’t be difficult.” 

Lo’ak’s earlier claim echoes in your head. The same one that had tipped you right over the edge into biting him. 

“Neteyam’s been known to share.”

“No! No way. Forget it! Spank me, fuck me do whatever you want but I am not kissing him.” Face now inflamed into a bright red, you point an accusing finger back at the younger brother. Lo’ak bites back a smile, leaning back against the tree. 

When you attempt to stomp off in a dramatic exit, Neteyam easily scoops you back into place with one arm. A firm grip on your hips keeps you facing him. 

“You have options, pet, but not many.” That velvety voice lowers into a rough timber you’ve grown accustomed to. Always the first sign that you are stepping into dangerous territory. “You can apologize properly or we can look into taking away some special privileges you’ve seemed to have taken for granted.” 

One hairless brow raises and suddenly you know exactly what privilege he speaks of. 

You inhale sharply. Your music box. That damn music box that you’ve become so attached to that even the thought of him putting it back at Bridgehead makes you hold back a whimper. You never should have let him to know how deeply you care for the thing. Better yet, you never should have allowed yourself to become so dependent on a single object. 

However, there is no changing that now. Caught between a rock and a hard place your features soften into a pout. 

“Teyam pl-”

“I’m not interested in negotiations. Take your pick.” Although stern, his composure doesn’t hold the same dark glint it does when you’ve truly pushed him too far. Neteyam kneels there firm, but patient. Even his tail curls and swings leisurely along your thigh. 

He knows how this is going to play out. He knows the leverage he holds so there is no point in wrestling you into submission. You’re going to do it on your own, pout and all. More than anything you want to prove him wrong. Lift your chin, tell him to do his worst and stomp home without another glance at Lo’ak. 

But you don’t.

Instead you shuffle to turn back around at the speed of a sulking child. Arms crossed and glare blazing, you finally face the other brother reluctantly. That large hand spans across your upper back to give you a small push forward. Not willing to go down without a fight, you keep that screwed expression in place even as Lo’ak’s attention burns through you. 

Even when he leans forward from his sprawled position to rest those alien hands across his upper thighs and close some of the distance between you. Even when his tail suddenly tickles at your upper thigh with a softness that almost has you stumbling backwards in surprise. 

You can feel it falter, however. That burning anger struggles to overpower your ever raising nerves. So when you are finally standing between Lo’ak’s spread legs you rush to get the deed done before those nerves get the best of you, showing your cards for both males to see. 

Lifting onto your toes, you leave a peck on his cheek so fast that neither of you can comprehend it before you are turning back towards Neteyam. Lo’ak’s barely stifled laughter is met by a dark chuckle of the Olo’eyktan’s own. Although, the elder Sully tries to keep his amusement to a minimum as he spins you to face back around again. 

“A real kiss, tiyawn.” 

“I did what you asked and-” a fierce grip catches your chin, before you are met with the Olo’eyktan’s stern expression invading your space. With lips just mere inches away from your own, Neteyam’s clutch may as well be a chokehold with the way it dissipates the air from your lungs. 

It is times like these that you remember who exactly is your captor. He infuses your time together with occasional softness but there is no forgetting the true predator that lies beneath. He is not just any warrior. Neteyam is Toruk Makto’s firstborn, Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. The same clan that had run off everyone you knew from this planet. When glimpses of that man come forward, your tough facade cripples beneath him. 

“Now now, let’s not scare her too much. You said she’s nervous after all.” Lo’ak breaks the tense moment with a casual drawl. For once, you're grateful for his teasing. Less grateful however at the feel of his four fingered hands coming to rest on your hips to turn you around, the softness of his touch creating an inferno of sensation rippling through your body. “Unlike you, I promise not to bite.” 

His lips curl into a crooked smirk as his tail playfully swishes behind him. The bastard is enjoying this far too much, but you’re not sure which brother is worse to face at this moment. Lo’ak’s cocky dose of humiliation or Neteyam’s dangerous threats of retribution. It feels as if neither will leave you the same you were before tonight. 

A third hand clamps around the back of your neck, veerring you forward. And this time, you don’t wait to be told twice. 

Your lips softly brush against Lo’ak’s own. A part of you wonders if your trembling has reverberated even to your lips where he can feel. Lo’ak, however, is surprisingly gentle and slow as he follows your tentative kiss. It’s not the usual possessive claiming that leaves your head spinning and thighs clamping together. Nor are your soft lips put under torment of nipping teeth that love to tease. 

No, it’s gentle. Almost intimate. 

Utterly terrifying. 

A rough push at his shoulders releases you from that kiss. Your chest siezes in efforts to slow your breathing down and not let either see your body’s betrayal at that tantalizing kiss. Regardless, you know it won’t matter. If your scent isn’t already ripe with your arousal, surely your rapid heartbeat is enough to give you away. 

Neteyam’s chest rumbles against your back in a deep chuckle, Lo’ak’s own eyes lit with mischief connecting with his brother’s over your head. 

“See? Nothing to be afraid of.” Lo’ak coos, but there is a huskiness to his voice that raises the hair at the back of your neck. And then the soft brush of his fingers on your hips becomes claws that dig into the plush flesh and drag you forward. 

A squeak can barely rip from your throat before your lips are back on his again. This time, all semblance of innocent affection is lost. Lo’ak’s lips enrapture your own into a kiss that can only be described as filthy when his quick tongue swipes past your bottom lip and devours you whole. 

If you were to be told earlier that your day with Lo’ak would end with his tongue in your mouth not only would you have not believed them but the idea of it would have been disgusting. Surely you would have imagined a scene that would liken him more to the sleazy drunk men that had made moves on you during late nights at Bridgehead. Just another horny male to try sticking his dick where it isn’t wanted. 

And God, do you wish that were reality.

Because a horny douchebag is so much easier to handle than the incarnation of sinful temptation that ropes around you now. So much easier than trying not to preen against the ministrations of a skilled mouth and plump lips. So much easier than resisting the urge to run the tip of your own tongue along those pointed canines. 

Lo’ak may have a big mouth, but it seems that all of his talk of pleasuring women comes from actual experience. He knows which button to press, knows the perfect combination of soft and rough touches to make a female drown in his embrace. 

And drown you do as another talented mouth trails along your spine, teasing you with the soft brush of his lips until your body is practically begging for the next laid kiss against your skin. It’s an attack from both sides. Trapped between two ravenous Sully men until you are unable to peek out from their shadows. 

Neteyam’s large hands skate over every inch of your exposed, trembling, body while Lo’ak remains dedicated in his task of stealing the very air from your lungs. It comes on all too fast. While Neteyam is the master of taking your heated emotions and slowly making them blossom into unriddled desire, it seems that both of them together have that shift acting at the speed of an exploding bomb rather than a nurtured flower. So alarming that it has your mind reeling in its pathetic attempts to keep up. 

There is no mercy to be found from these towering aliens.

Even at the few points where Lo’ak lets you gasp for air, the hand that had become tangled in your hair finally letting off on the pressure, it’s only in favor of lapping his tongue over your constricting throat. 

“No marks.” Neteyam’s growled reminder barely processes through your already hazy brain. Even less so Lo’ak’s perturbed hiss before your lips are captured once more.

Scrabbling for what’s left of reason is a practice you are accustomed to when beneath the Olo’eyktan, pussy split on his cock, but never from something as simple as a heated make out session. But simple it is not, when two predators nip kiss and suck at your body as if savoring their well hunted meal. 

A breeze brushes past your entrance. Lo’ak chuckles when you break the kiss to look down and find that his brother has already discarded your loincloth. Your ankles cross on instinct, a mistake when the younger Sully tugs you forward and that position only makes you fall against his chest. 

“Mawey [be calm], pet.” Neteyam soothes, running a hand over your head. 

“But-”

Your protest is cut off when the Olo’eyktan suddenly replaces Lo’ak’s hands at your hips and lifts you up until you are settled onto the other male’s lap. They work together to wrestle your legs over each side of Lo’ak’s thighs. Thighs that then part to keep you spread and bared for them. 

“That’s a good girl.” You can’t even muster the strength it takes to act offended at Lo’ak’s condescending praise. There is barely enough time to grip his shoulders for stability before he is devouring you again. 

This has been well planned, that you are for certain of because as Lo’ak consumes you in a feral kiss meant to leave your lips ruby red and attention completely taken, Neteyam makes quick work of unthreading your complicated top. They work together like a well oiled machine. 

The Olo’eyktan lets out an appreciative groan, ears perking atop his head. He gives no warning before he is twisting around you to reach your right breast with his teeth. It digs into the plump flesh just beneath your pointed nipple, leaving behind an indent that is sure to be unmistakable. Lo’ak laughs against your lips when you accidentally chomp down on his bottom lip.

This bite is far more welcomed. 

Your treacherous pussy is wet enough to leave sticky arousal marking your inner thighs. There is nothing but the night’s breeze to caress your erect clit and entrance that is already clenching around nothing. So when the familiar brush of rough fingerprints with scars made from a bow’s strings circles around your dripping petals, you give a knee jerk reaction. 

Lo’ak swallows your moan only to react with his own when you claw into his hair for stability. Unfortunately the first piece you find just happens to be that thick braid. And while you were mere seconds away from finally having your begging clit played with, it’s the bite of a sharp sting that your sensitive sex is met with instead. Neteyam sends three spanks straight to your raised clit until your thighs are flexing in an attempt to snap close, a task impossible with Lo’ak’s own legs keeping you spread. 

Neck complaining with the strain, your head is yanked back and fingers disconnect when you are met with hard golden eyes. Lo’ak is either unbothered or knows better than to disturb his brother when in this state because his busies himself teasing and plucking at your nipples. 

“Did I say you could do that?”

“N-no.”

One of Neteyam’s hairless brows curves upwards expectantly. 

“No, Olo’eyktan. I’m sorry.” You quickly correct, voice catching when Lo’ak takes your left nipple between his teeth. 

Unshed tears gather in your eyes and you’re sure that the display of both submission and wrecked expression is enough to show that you meant Lo’ak no harm. Or at the very least you were in no state to do any damage, despite your desire otherwise. 

However, that is not enough. Apparently nowhere near what Neteyam needs from you, evident in the way he yanks you back and crashes your lips together. The tuff of his tail tickles your inner thigh as it wraps around your leg. There is no hope of keeping up with the fervency of Neteyam’s lips, teeth and tongue as he infuses every animalistic instinct into that kiss. It’s as if something has possessed him. 

You’ve seen Neteyam loosen the reins of his control. You’ve seen desire come to shine forth in the lustful actions he has succumbed to before, but he has always been in control. Calm, even as he has split you open on his cock time and time again. 

But this. 

You’ve never seen him like this, an utter slave to his instincts. 

“Get her ready.” The sharp demand Neteyam bites is not slow enough to allow you a single breath before he is diving back in. Your neck aches and thighs tremble at the awkward angle, but suddenly that angle is changing. 

Lo’ak easily throws a leg over each shoulder, lifting your lower body to his face while Neteyam keeps your upper body supported with a hand to your spine. The coordination leaves you spit roasted between the two of them, body dangling over the ground like a ragdoll. 

Neteyam is deaf to your silent pleas of being let down even as your clawing nails reach back to bite into his shoulders. What little threat they are when your weak nails won’t even be able to break skin. Just as weak as your dull teeth to Lo’ak’s queue. Painful perhaps, but nothing close to permanent damage. 

And it dawns upon you then, the same moment that Lo’ak’s tongue swipes playfully at your clit until you spasm. This isn’t about Lo’ak being hurt. Perhaps it never has been. Neteyam knows just as well as you that there is no real damage you could impose upon him.

No, this is about what you touched. What your teeth had sunk into when meanwhile your fingers have hardly ever ventured to explore his own. 

Another male’s queue. 

The neural chord associated with sacred mating among the Na’vi and not only had you been caught touching another’s, but your teeth had sunk into it. 

Finally released from his lips to let out a screeching moan, you crane to get another look at Neteyam’s handsome features. Reading him tonight is easier than it ever has been. The sharp lines created from a clenching jaw and eyes made of golden steel confirm your theory without doubt. Tonight isn’t about your pleasure, even as Lo’ak’s tongue licks a broad stripe from your entrance to clit. It isn’t even about an apology. 

Tonight is about proving a point. 

You wish to get ahead of what is to come, plead your case now that you understand the core issue better, but when your lips part all that comes out is a wrecked whine. Lo’ak pushes that first digit past your weeping entrance until it hits the first knuckle, and then the second. It’s nothing compared to that stretch that you have now become accustomed to performing but that never seems to stop you from feeling that exquisite burn every time. A true shock to the system.

With features set into stone, Neteyam slowly lowers you down so that your upper back rests upon his propped knee. This puts your lower body up higher than your upper as Lo’ak slurps at prods at the sensitive flesh between your thighs. A provocative display that Neteyam takes in calmly. He doesn’t look down as you squirm and whine atop his knee, just places one firm hand down over your bare chest to pin you into place. His thumb, however, does find its usual place swiping over the soft ribbon tied into a bow around your throat. 

“Fuck, she’s so tight.” Lo’ak exhales, your juices shining over his lips like a pretty sparkle of lip gloss. You try not to let that image stick in your head. No male has the right to look that beautiful after such depraved actions, especially someone as annoying as Lo’ak. “This little pussy can barely take a second finger.”

It does, however. A mortifying squelch sound created from your dripping core as you suck the second digit in. 

“My little pet knows how to stretch.” Neteyam purrs, eyes still watching between your legs as his knuckles pet over your flushed cheek. 

You gasp when Lo’ak curls his fingers and instantly finds that special spongy spot inside. Wrenching up from where you lay across the Olo’eyktan’s knee, you fight to get air back into your lungs properly. 

“Stop squirming.” Neteyam’s demand is accented with a sharp slap to your inner thigh, a sensation that only has you writhing more. 

“Is this a little too much for you, tawtute?” Lo’ak coos in a fake pout. “A few Na’vi fingers in this tiny cunt and you can’t even hold still like a good girl.” Those plump lips spread with your arousal pout as he tutts in mocking disapproval at you. 

If there was any hope of Neteyam protecting you from his brother’s teasing it is cut short the second his own dark laughter joins the mix. A blush spreads down from your cheeks to the very swell of your breasts. That heat only intensifies when the Olo’eyktan’s fingers brush over the area in awe, reminding you of how exposed you truly are between them. Every little reaction is a display for their amusement. 

“Come now, pet. Show Lo’ak how well your little demon pussy can take it.” 

“Tey..I-I…Teyam!” Whatever plea you had hoped to construct morphs into a drawn out moan of his name once Lo’ak wedges a third finger into your tight entrance. The Olo’eyktan doesn’t hide his pleasure at hearing you moan his name. Meanwhile you happen to catch the hint of annoyance Lo’ak shows at his older brother’s name raining from your lips when it is his fingers bringing you such pleasure. 

“Having fun, tiyawn?” Neteyam’s lips spread into a sinful display, sharp white teeth shining under the moonlight. The pads of Lo’ak’s fingers sensually rub at your inner walls, sending a tremor up your legs. “Of course you are. This is the attention you were begging for after all, isn’t it?”

You shake your head with a whine. That, however, only earns a sharp flick to your right nipple. 

This had never been your intention. Piss off Lo’ak, finally give him a peace of your mind? Absolutely. But being strung between these two Omatikaya warriors to be used as their amusing little slut had not been your vision. 

And yet….there is nothing else that can fill your mind, your body lighting up at every humiliating comment and sensual show of power exerted towards you. 

Lo’ak wiggles his fingers into a steady scissor motion. That burn has a whimper choking in your throat but it’s Neteyam that has your attention. That handsome face floats above you, the moonlight creating a false hallo atop his neat braids. Wriggling beneath such an exquisite creature has never felt so intoxicating. 

“Open.” As if spoken like a magic spell, your mouth hangs slack immediately. It’s worth the look of approval that carves into those magnetic features before he is slipping a thumb across your tongue. He taps your cheek in warning when you try to close your lips once more. 

A bead of saliva coats his thumb as he presses down on that wet muscle. Then, performing once more in their perfectly coordinated dance, Lo’ak’s presses his own thumb against your pulsing clit. 

The sound that rips from your throat is debauched, utterly inhuman. With Neteyam pressing down on your tongue there is no way to stifle it, so your whine rings true and free through the air. 

“Fuck, so pretty.” Lo’ak groans and you can’t be sure if he refers to your spew of moans or rather the sight of your drenched pussy clamping around his digits. Drool now travels past the corner of your lips. Just barely on the cusp of an orgasm. One more little push needed that you have no way of asking for. 

Neteyam chuckles when your eyes shoot open suddenly. There is a fourth intrusion, a fourth finger you are not accustomed to receiving. Confusion ripples through your features followed by another wave of bliss as Lo’ak sinks in the last finger. 

Sky Demon blood. 

Not the surprise you had accounted for. 

There is just enough common sense left to remember you need to ask for permission to come. Neteyam shows no mercy, keeping his thumb pressing your mouth open as you try to form pleas for release. 

“Have you earned it?” Neteyam asks.

A trick question. The correct answer may very well be the one that denies you an orgasm but answering otherwise could bring consequences that are already stacking at an alarming rate. 

Tears welling in your eyes, you manage to shake your head softly. 

“Of course not.” Neteyam sighs. His tail tickles at the sensitive flesh of your right side. “You haven’t been a good pet for me today, have you?”

The question is not rhetorical; you are silently informed when his thumb gives a few taps against your tongue. Sheepishly you nod and give out a gurgled apology. 

“She seems sorry.” Lo’ak pipes up. “Aren’t you, little demon?” Your back arches when he curls all four fingers against your inner walls and pressing down on your clit with his thumb. It urges the appropriate response, however, apologies flowing freely. 

“I think she wants to be a good girl now.” He adds and Neteyam studies your features to see if his brother’s assessment is correct.

“Then a good girl she will be.” 

That appears to be the cue Lo’ak had been waiting for. Those long blue fingers curl and rut up into your poor cunt vigorously all while drawing fast circles on your little pearl. The orgasm that rips through your body is explosive. Your legs strain and shake. Your mouth parts on its own into a cry even once Neteyam has removed his thumb. 

That pace continues until you are begging to have your overstimulated pussy left alone. Your head is stuffed full of cotton. Body buzzing so intensely in that afterglow you don’t register when Lo’ak finally draws his fingers out or how you become manhandled into a new position. The first sensation to make sense is a sudden kiss Lo’ak places on your lips before pulling away. 

You think that perhaps your punishment is over, but the younger Sully is setting himself back on that stump, eyes trained upon you intently. 

Neteyam has you sat on his lap, legs spread to bracket his muscular thighs and back pressed against his chest. Thick gollops of your pleasure run down your inner thighs to fall atop what you now realize is the Olo’eyktan’s uncovered cock. That bulbous tip now sprouting a bead of precum just barely jerks to tap your clit. 

Lo’ak is now back a few feet from where you and Neteyam are intertwined but he may as well be pressing a magnifying glass against your skin with the way his attention zeroes in on you. His own loincloth remains on but his right hand palms at the obvious bulge there. 

“What’s wrong, pet? Feeling too shy for an audience?” 

“Y-yes.” You mumble, swallowing down the lump in your throat. 

“Hm, that’s too bad because I’m especially inclined to show you off tonight.” 

It is only the arm cinched around your waist that keeps you from being impaled on his impressive length. Your nails create half moons in Neteyam’s forearm where you grip. 

“Now,” His voice darkens. “I am going to breed this slutty hole.” He gives your dripping pussy one gentle pat with his fingertips. “Going to fill it with my seed until it is properly wrecked. Lo’ak is going to watch. And you, what are you going to do?”

“Be g-good.”

“Close, little gift.” The head of his cock presses firmly against your pulsing entrance until it slips past. “You are going to give him a good show. Let him see exactly whose cum your tawtute cunt yearns for.”

Something close to awe ripples in Lo’ak’s expression as you are lowered down on the Olo’eyktan’s massive length, inch by inch. You try not to picture the crude presentation you must exhibit for his eyes as your stretch to accommodate Neteyam’s familiar shape. 

“Y-yes Olo’eyktan.” The wet gushing sounds that your cum and arousal make once you are finally lowered to the base has your eyes cinching shut. You hate how addicting this sensation is. Hate even more how eager you are to reach another climax, even eager to feel the warmth of the male’s seed blossom within you. 

“And why is that?”

The question doesn’t quite make sense. Whatever string of thoughts you had started knitting together fall to shambles when he begins lifting and lowering you up and down is cock in a steady pattern. 

Thank God, Neteyam decides to not make you answer, because your attention is already caught by Lo’ak sliding a hand beneath his loincloth. 

“Because I’m in charge, little gift. You are mine to use. Mine to love. Mine to share.”

You can feel every ridge and curve of him carve along your gummy walls. Etching a reminder of who owns you so thoroughly with every stroke. 

Lo’ak’s member curves along his stomach. Bioluminescent stars freckle over the sensitive skin. They disappear and reappear periodically from beneath his fist that grips and slides around his cock. 

“I decide who touches you. I decide who watches you.” Neteyam’s hips roll up just as you are dropped down to the base again. “And that means I also decide who you touch.”

Lo’ak’s teeth flash in a grin when he notices your intense gaze on him. It wipes away quickly when he interrupts himself with a rough groan and throws his head back in ecstasy. 

“Do you understand, pet?”

You’re not sure where your burst of confidence comes from. Perhaps it stems from Lo’ak whose hips buck up into his hands as spurt after spurt of his orgasm spray. Maybe it’s the deep roll of Neteyam’s hips that becomes frantic the more you squeeze around him. The idea that both brothers are about to find their peaks at the mere sight and feel of you is exhilarating. 

So instead of answering his question verbally, you instead shakily reach back to grab the Olo’eyktan’s kuru. Neteyam’s back goes ramrod straight, his thrusts becoming shallow. Then before you can change your mind, you swing the braid over your shoulder and push back the hair to properly examine those dancing tendrils. 

Neteyam’s head falls against your hair, voice dropping into the most sexy husk of breathing you have ever heard. And that’s all the encouragement you need before lowering the tendrils to wrap around your right pointed nipple. 

Pointed electricity spikes through every sensation. A zap of such pure bliss that it almost hurts. Neteyam counteracts this overstimulation with a deep moan and warm seed that bursts into your core just as you're spiraling over your own cliff. 

You don’t realize you’ve blacked out until voices slowly wobble into your consciousness. 

“Tie it back.” Neteyam instructs. It’s followed by a tickling sensation at your throat as the ribbon shifts. There is no energy left to spare on opening your eyes but you can feel cradling hands and hot water swimming around you. A hot springs then. 

“Perfect little thing,” comes Lo’ak’s voice next. 

And that is all you can decipher before blissful sleep enraptures you once more. 

Hope you enjoyed! Interaction means the world to me so please comment, reblog, or send me an ask with your thoughts<3

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Hunter's Prize

Pairing: Yautja OC x human fem reader x dark aged-up Neteyam

Words: 8K

Summary: The arrival of a rival alien to Pandora's strange world threatens the balance of all life on this planet – including yours. But a dangerous creature from other worlds isn't the only predator you'll find yourself fighting for your life to escape.

Warnings: Aged-up character, NSFW, predator/prey play, threesome, nipple play, spit roasting, P in V, creampie, oral sex (fem and male receiving), deepthroating, both men being aggressive and possessive over reader (yandere), alien genitalia, size kink, size difference, human x Yautja, human x Na'vi.

Notes: After a month and a half of writing and fighting for my life against depression and writer's block, I present this masterpiece... that I'm half convinced sucks.

Credits: Credit to @cafekitsune for the MDNI and support banners. Credit to @saradika-graphics for the divider.

Na'vi Translation:

Talioang: Sturmbeest

Oeyä poe muntxate: She is my mate

Sìltsan, ma oeyä lor muntxate: Good job, my beautiful mate

Eywa, tìtxur oe ting: Eywa, give me strength

Yawne: Beloved

Yautja Translation:

Th'syra: Skull

Kiande Amedha: Exomorph/hard meat

Sain'ja: Warrior

Ooman: Human

Ooman-di: Human woman/women

A'ket'anu: Beautiful

Guan Nrak’ytara: Goddess of dreams

Ell-osde' pauk: Fuck you

This small, bright planet was strange and confusing to Ta'ashka. The landscape so much more vibrant with glowing and moving life than compared to the dry dessert atmosphere of Yautja Prime. Everything was alive in some capacity, moving with life and throwing off his biohelmet's scanning ability, leaving the skilled hunter to fend for himself to matter how many different visual spectrums he scanned through.

The game here were large and a challenge to kill, it takes double the normal amount of time for Ta'ashka to hunt a single creature as others in it's species would come to assist the injured animal, doubling the thrill of the taking down such interesting beasts and earning Ta'ashka many new th'syra to his ever growing collection.

A part of Ta'ashka begrudgingly admits somewhere deep in his mind that Dark was right about this disgustingly bright moon, it was a unique landscape that challenged even the most seasoned of warriors to successfully catch a desirable game, even hunting for food was harder than he originally imagined as his very presence seemed to set the entire planet on edge, all active prey and fruitful foliage disappearing almost overnight from the moment his ship landed.

This land was strange, more alive and conscious than any other planet Ta'ashka has resided. If he didn't know himself better, he would believe the unease settling lowly in his slightly empty stomach would be mistake for fear, a sensation Ta'ashka hasn't felt since he was a fledging Youngblood in search of the perfect kiande amedha to mark him as a fully Blooded warrior. Ta'ashka's mandibles flared under his helmet at the thought, what a ridiculous notice.

And the aliens on this plant were... unlike anything Ta'ashka has seen in his many lifetimes traveling the galaxy. Their tall stature and toughened bones covered in lithe muscles make them worthy prey to hunt, some of them even identifying themselves as sain'ja from their impressively carved bows and expertly sharpened knife they hand craft. Training themselves to accomplish a dangerous climb to catch one of Ta'ashka's favorite appearing predator. A massive flying creature with rows of teeth, sharp talons, a ferocious hiss, and a intriguing knack for desiring to kill their future rider.

A shiver never fails to trail down Ta'ashka's spine at the prospect of getting his claws on those winged beasts.

Their specific azure blue skin, long whip like tail for balance, and disturbingly bright glowing dots accenting their bodies were interesting at best, but the thick braid with moving tendrils at the end was a oddity Ta'ashka could not wrap his head around, the ritual of wrapping the pink, wiggling ending around the silken portion of a tree was unfathomable and stupid to leave one's self so vulnerable to the impressive predators lurking through the land.

The most Ta'ashka could detect was that they were nerve endings, a connection of sorts to the plant and animal life around them, and in certain instances they would connect to each other. It wasn't solely sexual, though Ta'ashka has bare witness to several matings between the different sexes of this species, the bond in question wasn't only made when mating and Ta'ashka was astonished to discover that occasionally they would connect in casual conversations or quiet moments between two individuals.

They were an odd race for that, Ta'ashka concluded. Such a deeply emotional bond was not needed for Yautja to procreate, many of his species didn't find a life mate out of choice of keeping their freedom and independence, more willing to perform the more rough and dominant filled mating to fulfill the planet wide practice of keeping the species alive. It's been a long time since Ta'ashka has heard of mating out of love within his Clan, not totally unheard of, but still it's a rarer sight to see. A sensation of such a powerful emotion driven by a need to constantly be by somebody's side was a experience Ta'ashka never imagined he would feel.

And yet here he is, lower mandibles clicking in thought under his bio-mask, his light crystal blue eyes narrowing in on a small form scurrying around in the underbrush. His head tilts to the right at a little sound it makes when it trips over a overgrown root, the hint of grey shading over his long tresses are seen from the corner of his eye as the rubbery tendrils cover his vision of his left side for just a moment before it falls back into place.

It was a intriguing discovery to learn that oomans had found their way off their miniscule planet and have found a new source of interest in this sickenly peaceful moon. Ta'ashka had his fair share of oddly funny and daring interactions with oomans on Earth centuries ago when he was commanded to take the role of Clan Leader from his Matriarch, something he begrudgingly went along with at the time and has yet to allow his oldest friend and leader wrangle him into Clan Eldership rank just yet. The idea of becoming an Elder and losing his freedom to these types of soul freeing excursions made his lower mandibles flare in anger and his eyes widen in fear.

Ta'ashka shakes his head out of those all consuming thoughts, his head dipping further to the side out of curiosity to the creature walking on the pathway he's perched high above on one of the many impressive tree branches dangling over it's head. It's a ooman-di that he watches, a fascinating creature that has enraptured his attention for weeks now, an obsession that doesn't seem to want to fade away anytime soon.

You were a... different sight to Ta'ashka's eyes, something he couldn't place in the many years he's lived. The funny nature of your features almost pleasing for him to look at, even staring at you creates a pooling of desire that settles lowly in his stomach into his heavy loins. You were a scientist of your race, an intelligent and studious researcher of the odd plant life of this strange little moon, you seemed diligent and in weird sense of the word, you were brave. Stupid but courageous.

You were brave and intelligent, but like most oomans, you were beyond oblivious to the looming predator watching your every move, the dark gaze that watches you at night when you finally rest and stalks you all throughout your busy day in replacement to actually doing the thing he traveled lightyears to achieve. The skull of a Na'vi.

It was a ever present pressing thought that plagued Ta'ashka's mind at the prospect of actually hunting one of the inhabitants, despite what many believed, the Yautja do not hunt the Na'vi as sport as much as they would like. They're a resilient race of people that don't take kindly to unnecessary killings, and will slaughter those that do such things. That fact usually excites any Yautja that hears how willingly such a skilled species of worthy prey are to defend themselves, but the act of actually successfully killing a Na'vi was much harder than originally thought of, and it would only cause a war to ensure against the Yautja if it occurred too often.

A silent agreement was made among the higher ranks, on certain planets when the risk of killing a native inhabitant could cause a potential conflict bigger than the hunting party or individual was planning for, they would avoid the natives to hunt the local wildlife. It wasn't the masses favorite decision, many accusing the Elders of creating a cowardly way out to dealing with a self made problem. But all oppossing voices were silenced shortly after speaking, so the issue was dropped.

But another issue arose to the forefront of Ta'ashka's mind at the prospect of killing a indigenous of this planet, that you... would be quite upset. You were close to the strangely colored aliens; very close. From the prospective of Ta'ashka's observation, you were bethrothed to be mated with the youngest son of the clan chief, a rather bold Na'vi that captured your attention over the lustful eyes of others, and now Ta'ashka could only imagine your reaction if you learned your alien lover was killed and beheaded by someone like him.

The dark quills lining Ta'ashka's body stand on end at the satisfying thought of winning you by completely destroying your future mate, proving to you just how much better of a mate he would to you with such an incredible show of strength and skill to kill a rather hardheaded and bold warrior like your bethrothed. It would be the ultimate show of affection, a loud show of care if only your delicate self could see it for what it was. But you and your tranquil ways would not see his proud claims of endearment as anything more than an act of war; one you quite possibly could be killed in if Ta'ashka wasn't careful enough.

The all imposing thoughts of winning you was distracting to the Yautja slowly and mindlessly stalking you through the thick tree branches winding above you, your little self unaware to the dangerous world around you as your eyes are glued to the piece of technology in your hands. You stop for a moment when your small, uncoordinated hands fumble your pad while reaching for something in the bag slung around your shoulders, an adorable curse leaving your lips as you bend down to collect the scattered items.

Ta'ashka's upper mandibles lift in a soft smile as he watches you grumble and complain about this insignificant incident while continuing to drop the items you gathered as you overfill your short arms with all the items you're desperate to put back into your satchel. His attention is fully focused on you, eyes trained to no other form but your own and his natural instincts to always be environmentally aware are slipping from his conscious as the slowly creeping body of the Na'vi warrior hunting him from across the way goes unnoticed for far too long.

It's soul binding the moment Ta'ashka feels their heavy gaze, every muscle locking and sharp eyes flaring in sudden awareness as the Na'vi resting on the branches level to him glares at the refracting of light happening a walking path away from him. Ta'ashka takes in what little details he could from his peripheral vision, the familiar build of an imposing warrior with skills that rival even that of his younger brother and building power of his commanding father. The eldest son of the clan chief, heir to the clan and all it's people.

The warrior's bow was in his four fingered hands, taunt bowstring pulled back by years of muscle instincts as the poisonous tip of his arrow was knotched and aimed for Ta'ashka's chest. The hard outline of a scowl paints the Prince's face in a harsh war face, pointed ears laying back against his skull as the whip of his tail lashes out behind him, his kneeling form stable on the branch he's perched on as he flaunts the years of training his muscles hold in their stiff but ready form.

Ta'ashka had to admit, this particular Na'vi was a sight to behold when he so dared, an impressive front with skills to balance the look. Ta'ashka takes a moment to settle in his mind that he'll give this prey a fairer fight than most, this warrior seemed worth the trouble. The very tips of Ta'ashka's claws gently tap at the screen around his forearm, taking away the deceiving layer of cloaking that wasn't good enough to fool this Na'vi, revealing his large, crouching body to the alien so keen for a fight.

Admittedly Ta'ashka was taken aback when not a sound was uttered from the prey he faces. Usually their was a obnoxious symphony of gasps and shouts at his form, sounds that are mere squeaks compares to the shrieks of terror that occur when his bio-mask is removed. Yet the eldest son did nothing but harden his gaze, knuckles turning a light blue at the tightening grip he has on his hand carved bow.

The warrior's gaze is unwavering, steadfast in their cold piercing into Ta'ashka's thickened skin. But it falters, the honey of his eyes drifting down to linger on your busy self counting your newly gathered items to ensure you've gathered it all. His resilient stance loosening for a moment as his stare finds your small body appearing even tinier now that you're kneeling in the tall grass. But as quickly as his eyes drift they're back to their original place on the Yautja flared position preparing to launch off this branch if necessary.

A fleeting moment of realization comes flooding back to Ta'ashka memories, igniting a searing jealousy in his barreling chest. It wasn't only the second son of the chief that had an intrigued gaze settled on you, for a long time it was the eldest son that had your attention until you eventually chose the youngest of the two. And the eldest didn't take the rejection from his favorite object all to well, threatening to kill his brother then himself if you didn't chose him instead, it physically took three people to drag him away from you. Such a pathetically desperate little boy wanting his obsessive toy to play over.

The sounds of muffled but still audible rapid clicking fills the air, Ta'ashka's shoulders shaking from the force of his laugh. So the young warrior chooses death this day? What a pleasant thought, now Ta'ashka can finally hunt a prey willing to put in some effort. The eldest son's lips peel back over his pointed canines, flashing his sharp fangs in a throaty snarl, challenging Ta'ashka's amusement. Ta'ashka matches the Na'vi's opposing hiss with his own thundering growl, his tresses trembling by the sides of his face from the sheer force of the rumbling traveling through his body.

Both creatures hold their poised positions glaring at each other, the lashing of a tail and the twitching of claws counting the microseconds as the air tenses, pulling the imaginary string tighter and tighter until one of them finally snaps. Both men are too focused on the other, so prepared to rip the other's throat out with their bare teeth they lose focus of their prize entirely, both being caught off guard at the loud gasp that fills the suddenly quiet evening air. The pair of aliens shift their gaze down to your cowaring form crawl for all preservation of life backwards on your elbows and heels of your feet, glassy eyes rapidly flicking between the two massive forms hovering above you.

In seconds you're stumbling to turn around, snatching your dirty, half open satchel off the ground and are digging your little feet into the soft dirt to prepel you forward, sprinting in any clear and random direction to get away from the hunter's seeking their prize.

Neither warrior needs to look at each other to know whatever strange deal they've now made, Ta'ashka leaps from his branch and hits the ground running after your small figure as the leaves above are disturbed by the heavy weight of the Na'vi swinging from limb to limb follows after you.

It was silent but known. A bittersweet deal not even your pretty little self could comprehend.

Their ever move emanated the same repetitive thought: May the best hunter win his prize.

It's eerie how silent the world has become to your muffled ears. The once tranquil, vibrant forest around has been silenced, no animal calls out it's existence and no bug dares to create even a flutter of sound as you weave past their little homes as fast as your body would allow. Your ears feel like they're filled with water, echoing the pained pants resounding through your wheezing lungs as you sprint in this erratic zigzag pattern to confuse whatever's chasing you deeper into Pandora's thick jungle.

Your chest squeezes in on itself for just a moment at how painfully fast your heart is beating, your throat becoming raw and dry from the quickened breathes you're taking as droplets of sweat blur your vision, stinging your eyes from how concentrated you are on running that you've forgotten to wipe the dripping sweat collecting down your body. Your legs scream for mercy from the pounding they're taking carrying you through harder and harder terrain to slow down the monstrous creates following closely behind you, but you can't stop – won't stop now.

It's unnatural what you saw, a menacing creature too hardheaded to stop where it's going, stalking you day and night to seek an answer it already knows. And now there's a new alien you've never seen before chasing after you with Neteyam. A shiver covers your skin at the thought of Neteyam, a Na'vi you once considered your best friend now the last being you would ever want to be left alone with has confirmed the nightmare you warned Lo'ak he would become. A part of you knew deep down he would never give up until he had you, until death do you part isn't an option in his dark mind, and now you're stuck living his cruelest fantasy come to life as you run like your life depends on it. Your life does depend on it.

The new creature was imposing in appearance but made all the more terrifying as it began to chase you without so much as a warning. You've never seen anything like it, a fact that would normal intrigue your scientific mind if it wasn't for the fact that you believe this thing wants to possibly eat you right now. For a brief moment you consider stop running and confront this new creature, possibly reason for your life or maybe, if you're truly lucky, you could sic it's brutish form on Neteyam and pray the odds bend in your favorite. And somehow, given how sickenly determined it appeared to look at you the moment Neteyam laid eyes you, you knew it would work.

But there was no guarantee that it would work, there's never been any solid guarantees in your life for years now, and this was not the moment you test fate. Your 'training' with Lo'ak on how to hunt and forage the sustainable things of the land were never fruitful as his lessons always ended in him bending you into whatever position he liked, but Neteyam taught you. He taught you how to navigate the forest no matter where you were as his little way of building quality time and trust between the two of you in his early stages of quiet courting, which is why you now you know how to evade the dangers of the waterfall you've been herded to and veer off the pathway nearly a mile ago now.

You can only hope that the sudden detour was enough to slow down or confuse either of these persistent hunters for just a few fleeting moments to give a small amount of buffer room between them and you. It's a absolute, unarguable thing that they are letting you 'get away' as a joke to the phrase, you knew Neteyam could catch you in an instant and no creature covered in that many skulls could be slow enough to be out ran by a human. But still you hope. You hope and you run like hell fire is nipping at your heels as you draw closer and closer to the outskirts of the Omatikaya territory with every passing seconds.

You want to scream for help, to alert anyone close by that you're in danger and in need of help, a far off dream of your future mother-in-law hearing you and dealing with her wayward golden child and his new hunting buddy was enough fuel to push you forward just a little more. Oh how you want to find Lo'ak wandering through the trees with Spider hot on his heels so you can climb into his open embrace and hide from the darkening world around you, to feel him cradle you close as he tells off his brother and new pet for their awful behavior. But your call for help is cut short by your every wheezing pant, your exo-pack just barely able to keep up with your rapid breathing to provide the filter oxygen you so desperately need to survive.

The only option for help is to stop running, to stop all attempts at escape long enough for your tired and burning lungs to gather any and all air available so you can make your possible endeavor at getting rescued from the monsters that have been chasing you for what feels like hours now. You're sticky from sweat and achey all over, every portion of your being begging to stop, and yet you keep going. The adrenaline coursing through your veins is so strong that you couldn't stop now even if you wanted to.

You spare a quick glance over your shoulder to survey the land behind you, seeing nothing but empty, lush landscape that seems completely undisturbed by nothing but your flailing self trampling through the forest like a blind talioang. You know not to trust it, that there's no plausible way you outran a Na'vi and... a whatever that other thing is, but you have to now, there's no other choice or better place to stop than right here on the very edge of the Omatikaya territory.

Your barefeet throb from the pounding they've taken on the rocky, stick covered ground of the forest floor, wailing with the rest of your body for a break from the torture you've put yourself under. And you can feel it now, the adrenaline wearing off into sluggish limbs and uncoordinated steps that lead you into a trap your human eyes could have never detected. Your legs are snatched right out from under you before your brain can process what happened, a blanket of leaves and glowing moss sticks to your skin as the cold wire of a metal net tightens around you, the colorful world surrounding you blurs into a kaleidoscope of bioluminescent patterns that pulse through your strained eyes and into your aching head.

Through the gut turning swinging, the barely discerning blob of a azure figure swings into view, hunting knife in hand as the sharp blade flies through the air at a flick of his wrist, but is unsuccessful cutting through the strangely strong metal as it bounces haphazardly off the wire. Neteyam snarls through bares teeth at the abstract movement of light that flicks until a looming black figure manifests behind you, a subtle twist of it's arms sends it's two pronged wristblade cleanly through the metal wiring holding you suspended in the air.

Your raw, dry throat doesn't allow a single sound to leave your heaving chest as you silently scream when it's strong, scaley arms wrap around you just before you can tumble to the ground, the sharp tips of it's dangerously sharp claws gently grazes your skin as it sheds the metal wiring still clinging to your form. You want to protest it's strong hold on you, but the moment Neteyam begins to inch forward towards the beast holding you, you can't help but cling to it out of fear of the dark, sinister pool that is Neteyam's eyes when he rakes that cold, shivering gaze down your fragile body.

"Oeyä poe muntxate!" Neteyam growls towards the creature holding you, his knife in hand, razor shape blade facing his enemy as his body crouches down in the same fashion the being cradling you is doing, both men poised to perfection in their position to kill each other over your unwilling captivity between the two aliens.

From deep within the chest of the creature holding you, a rumbling voice so deep and gravely comes out from behind it's mask, shaking you apart from the instant fear it demanded from your body. "Ta'ashka's... trap captures... Ta'ashka's... prize."

Your fear strickened form trembles against the barreling chest that you're pinned against, quivering lips barely contain the little sob you let out, not even the radiating heat emanating off of Ta'ashka's unnaturally warm body could chase away the cold shiver trembling through your body. Through the blurrying of your tears, you can see the visible tightening in Neteyam's body as he prepares to strike, his bunny like ears that you once would play with as a means to annoy him disappear from how far back they're laid against his skull, another full body shiver coursing through you at the roaring hiss he retaliates with.

Faster than you can comprehend, Neteyam's got your lower half in his arms, gripping you so painfully tight in his overpowering grip that your bones feel as if they're complaining under the strain. Ta'ashka growling response vibrates in your eardrums as he tries to pull you out of Neteyam's greedy hold, yanking your upper half further away from Neteyam's grappling hands making their way up your body. You're tossed back and forth between their hulking forms as if you were a doll two little children were fighting over who gets to play with you first.

It was clear from the fact that you haven't been ripped in two yet that neither warrior wanted to harm you, that they intended keep you and harboring you in their embrace away from the rest of the world as soon as possible. It's almost concerning that neither of them have actively tried to kill each other yet, that their goal of waving you like a flag captured in a game was more of a prize than taking out the competition all together.

The hot sting of bile rises in the back of your throat when your mind lingers too long on the ideas of what Neteyam might do to you if he finally gets you alone, no help or battle of dominance to distract him from the sickenly dark fantasies he's collected just for you to finally unfold before him with you trapped in the black center of it all. It scared you even more to image what this creatures named Ta'ashka planned for you, what disgusting alien rituals would occur if you were left to the demise of whatever his otherworldly mind could conjure, and if you would be truly alone if he sought out to share you with others of his kind.

A string of curses leaves Neteyam's mouth as Ta'ashka knocks one of his legs out from under him in a surprisingly graceful sweeping kick for something so bulky and large as himself. Neteyam's hold on you doesn't relent as he pulls your lower half with him as his left leg gives out, your hips are shoved to be bracketed by Neteyam's strong thighs as he tries to use his body weight to pin you under him and away from Ta'ashka's never relenting hold on your upper body.

Ta'ashka follows the swift movement to the ground, still keeping his huge bicep wrapped around your ribs as he faces off against Neteyam on his knees, ever so confident as he screams out another shrill battle cry directly into Neteyam's face, equally as unfazed of his foe when Neteyam hisses out a snarl in turn. It's in this moment that you feel it, the dreaded hard press of Neteyam's impressive bulge sticking into the plush curve of your ass, it throbs at the subtle friction of your body being jerked back and forth between the two aliens, and you're frightened when you feel yourself clenching at the sensation.

Directly in front of you – the only sight you can see from your awkward position kneeling on your hands and knees in between the two beasts – is the heart stopping sight of a human skull decorating the front of Ta'ashka's loincloth like a pretty, polish belt buckle. But not even the size of the skull could take away from the all consuming outline of his terrifyingly massive cock tenting the fabric of his dark maroon loincloth, pressing dangerously close to your face when Ta'ashka jerks forward at some sudden movement Neteyam has caused. And you're even more terrified when you feel the pooling of saliva on your tongue at the sight.

You couldn't possibly be attracted to this situation... Could you? You fearfully question yourself as just seconds ago you were running for your life and now you're contemplating the odd bubbling of desire settling so deeply in your stomach you can feel the pulse of it in between your thighs. Something about the idea of two incredibly powerful warriors of two completely different races than yours so visible wanton for you, willing to hunt you down and grapple over who gets to possess you wholly sends little zaps of tingling want down your spine, prickling your skin at every rough contact of their skin against yours.

Through your hazing lust filled thoughts, you feel the buzz of your body still coursing adrenaline through your veins, amplified by the now growing stillness around you as neither warrior has moved to tug or manhandle you for a long pause. The deafening sound of your panting filtered through your exopack rings in your ears, only growing stronger when you hear the companioned breathing of the men hovering over you.

Risking everything you've put on the line, you peek up to look at Ta'ashka's panting stomach through your lashes, feeling and hearing the vibration of his low growl at the scent of your arousal coating the air. Slowly peering over your shoulder, Neteyam is bracketing your lower half in between his strong thighs, not helping the pulsing between your thighs at the sight of Neteyam's head resting back on his neck, nostrils flaring as he scents your sweet desire off the thick air, the loud rumbling of his purrs causes your thighs to clench together.

You can feel the presence of the wicked smile that takes over Neteyam's features, his bruising grip loosening so his hands are free to caress the battered skin of your thighs, squeezing at the supple flesh of your much smaller and pliable body. The crisp sound of you sucking in air through your exopack becomes increasingly louder as Neteyam's hands travel around, every micro movement he does against your body not going unnoticed by you or Ta'ashka as the big beast watches on as Neteyam grabs at the plush of your asscheeks and squeezes them harshly.

You should be fighting, thrashing and clawing and finding a way to bite if necessary to get away, but you don't – you can't. You've cursed yourself and the curiosity you've always had over your former best friend, your fear being your only saving grace that swept you into Lo'ak's open arms when things got too tough. But you can never deny how badly you wanted to feel his touch, how many times you've imagined his long fingers venturing down in between your thighs to tease the embarrassing large wet patch on your loincloth like he is right now.

The chortle you received from both men at the unashamed gasp you let out when the calloused tips of Neteyam's fingers circle over your clothes clit causing your legs to immediately snap shut, trapping Neteyam's hand in it's place against your dripping cunt. Neteyam's other hand pets your back like you were an irritated cat in need of soothing, "Sìltsan, ma oeyä lor muntxate. You just keep me exactly where you want me."

You wish your legs weren't pinned under his weight or else you'd kick him in his ribs, an action that would only draw you deeper into his amused torment. The deep scowl written across your face at the mocking coos Neteyam is calling to you is wiped away instantly when the otherworldly touch of sharp claws teasing at the skin of your breasts as Ta'ashka cups the plump mounds in his enormous hands, kneading at silkened flesh with a reverent touch.

It's much easier to look at the battle scratched surface of Ta'ashka's mask now that his steel grip on your waist has been replaced with his exploratory touch on your breasts, being careful to not cut your skin with his long claws as his pinches your perked nipples between his fingertips. Your arms once trapped between Ta'ashka's thighs to ensure I didn't push him away are now free to wrap around the muscular mass of his thick thighs, unintentionally pushing your ass higher in the air for Neteyam's viewing as your mask bumps the skull on Ta'ashka's belt.

Ta'ashka tilts his head at the soft noise of pleasure you made at his sudden pinch, immediately repeating the motion as he rolls your pebbled buds until a whine you didn't even try to control bubbles out of you. Ta'ashka responses to your little whine with a chitter of his own, one hand moving off your chest long enough to push your tangled hair out of your face, tilting your chin up to meet the dead gaze of his mask. "A'ket'anu."

You slow blink at the growled alien word that came from deep within Ta'ashka's chest, but not even the language barrier could stop the instantaneous blanket of goosebumps that cover your body, slow blinking eyes closing to savour the synchronized throbbing of your clit to his ever roll of your nipples in his hold. A rapid chittering is Ta'ashka's show of amusement at your reaction, choosing to shower you with another phrase in his language you won't ever understand, "Guan Nrak’ytara."

Your goosebumps are chased away by the scolding heat of embarrassment that washes through you when the limited amount of clothing you have on are stripped away without care, carefully handcrafted beads strung together by your bethrothed are ripped off your neck by Ta'ashka's sharp claws as Neteyam's hunting knife shreds your beautifully dyed loincloth. The searing of your shame is furthered by Neteyam's mocking laugh as his rough thumb parts your folds, soaking his finger almost instantly from how wet you are.

"Eywa, tìtxur oe ting..." he moans, long canines digging into his bottom lip as he gathers your slick to glide over your needy clit, thumbpad covering the entirety of your clit and it's little protective hood as he lightly presses down on the bundle of nerves until you elicit the same whimpers you've made for Ta'ashka for Neteyam to consume. "Fuck Yawne, you're so small, like my very own sweet treat just dripping to be devoured."

An insult rests on the tip of your tongue, a comeback degrading Neteyam for being so needy for a woman that doesn't even want him, but the phrase is snatched from your mouth the moment the wet warmth of Neteyam's mouth suctioning onto your cunt, the width of the scolding heat of his textured tongue laps over your clit and hole in one lick, bringing stars across your vision as he moves to repeat the action and stop to give your clit a sucking kiss. Your legs tremble in Neteyam's hands as he continues to devour you like a man starved, groaning around your aching bud so earnestly you could become convince you're the best meal he's ever had.

You fight to stay silent, unwilling to admit how tightly your stomach is knotting or how desperately good his mouth feel against your aching pussy, but lose your already lost battle when he circles your throbbing clit around the tip of his tongue like he would play with a piece of candy. "Oh fuck..." you wheeze, sinking your nails into Ta'ashka's thickened scales as you finally allow yourself to rock back against Neteyam's tongue, being rewarded with the wide muscle of Neteyam's tongue pushing into your quivering hole in a slow massage of your gummy walls. "Oh fuck, I hate you."

Neteyam pops off your cunt for just a brief moment, licking your slick off his lips like he was a cat caught eating cream, "Hmm, I know." he replies, before pushing your ass higher in the air to expose you more for his searing mouth to gorge himself on.

"You son of a–" Ta'ashka catches your chin between his fingers before you could look over your shoulder at Neteyam again, craving your gaze on him so the small camera in his helmet can capture every flicker of your pleasure filled expressions for his viewing experience later on when he has to inevitably leave you and this planet behind.

Your eyes never cease to amaze Ta'ashka as he watches them turn wide with want and curiosity whenever they lay themselves on him, your soft features captivating beyond any galaxy he has ever visited when your big doe eyes glance down at the bulging of his loincloth, the once fear of the skull he proudly decorates his belt with now turned to mindless need to know what lies underneath. The points of his claws are almost delicate against your so easily marred flesh, never leaving the soft structure of your face as his free hand tries and fails to hide how desperate he is to free himself of his suffocating loincloth, savagely ripping the cloth off his hips.

Your tiny gasp is lost in the loud snarl Ta'ashka let's out at the feeling of his fat cock finally able to fully unsheathe itself and fall to lay heavy and slick on his thigh. The much thinner skin of his cock is littered in veins that glow ever so lightly from his pumping neon blood that's only causing the need he has for release to increase, a gnawing deep in his gut threatening to tear through his stomach in anticipation as you stare down at his cock in awe, unmoving as you process the sheer size of his twitching length sitting directly in front of your face.

The sharp tip of Ta'ashka's claw teases over the edge of your mask, the rubbery tendrils framing his masked face begin to dangle in front of your field of vision as Ta'ashka hunches over your form, setting the cold steel of his mask just a breath away from your face. "Open..." he groans, a sound that floods Neteyam's mouth even more with your slick, a demand so simple yet undeniable that you immediately move to obey.

As your lips part to take in a deep breath, Ta'ashka is already loosening the straps keeping your exopack in place, slowly pulling the glass covering off your face with a soft hiss. It was the best revelation to ever grace Ta'ashka's eyes, your unobstructed features ever so welcoming and otherworldly in nature, so eager and desperate and whiney as Neteyam moans into ever torturous lick he does against your dripping pussy. You follow the gentle guidance of Ta'ashka's rough thumbpad pushing down on your bottom lip, opening your mouth as wide as you possibly can for Ta'ashka to guide his wet and pulsing cock into your willing mouth.

The tang of salt and a unique pepper like earth taste coats your tongue as Ta'ashka pushes his leaking tips past your lips, savouring every curious lick of your tongue trying to fight the foreign sensation, a unexpected shudder wracks through Ta'ashka's body as the tip of your tongue glides over his slit, a unattended tease to such a sensitive area to the mighty Yautja warrior fighting to regain his control as your small throat sucks him further and further into the wet heat of your mouth inviting him in.

Your jaw already has begun to ache as your mouth is stretched wide to welcome the long intrusion that is Ta'ashka's twitching cock leaking down your throat already. Your want clouded mind is hazed with the heavy weight of Ta'ashka's cock nestled snuggly on your tongue as his girthy tip barely grazes the back of your throat, your stomach twisting with desire when the rumbling of his moan vibrates above you.

A soft whine leaves your throat when Neteyam pops off your cunt, lingering the burning pleasure of your building orgasm behind as further punishment for making him wait for so long. You can feel the kneading grip Neteyam has on your hips and ass, pulling your hips back to feel the hard flesh of his newly freed, pulsing cock springing up to fall in between your slick coated thighs, prominent veins decorating his length rub against your cunt as he slowly parts your sticky folds, nudging his precum soaked tip against your overly sensitive clit, coating his cock in the slick mixture of his spit and your juices.

Neteyam's abrupt yank on your body into his unintentionally pulls your mouth off of Ta'ashka's cock, saturating the air with the shrill clinks from Ta'ashka warning the Na'vi behind you. Both warriors glare at each other, sharp teeth and gleaming fangs flashing at one another until Neteyam breaks the tense scowling to scoff, "Be grateful I'm sharing and I'm even allowing you to have her mouth," Neteyam warns.

Taking the distraction he caused, Neteyam slowly begins rocking his thick tip past your tight entrance, the suffocating squeeze of your gummy walls clench in protest of the burning stretch of his length splitting you open. A pained whine vibrates around Ta'ashka's cock, drawing the creature's gaze from where your being impaled to pull out of your mouth, immediately bringing your mask back down over your face to allow you to take in a much needed breath of air. "Ah! Fuck– Teyam!" you whine, unsure of yourself if in this moment you're scolding him or begging for more.

Neteyam coos at your pleads, reveling in the little moans you let out when his thumb finds your clit once again, circling the little nub until your small body relaxes enough to welcome the full length of his girthy cock to the hilt. Neteyam's head falls forward to gaze as the most beautiful sight his cynical eyes have ever seen, the pure bliss of your tiny pussy stretched wide and shiny with need around his cock is more than enough to pull an appreciative purr from his chest. "Because after tonight, every hole she has is mine."

Ta'ashka takes care to be gentle with your mask when he pulls it off your face once again, soothing you with his own rumbling purrs. The widened nature of your eyes mimics that of a hopeless prey too much for Ta'ashka's instincts to bare, being more rough than he knows he should when he thrusts his cock back down your throat with such an anguished urge to claim you as his. A mark so deep he prays to ever god he knows that you'll taste him on your tongue forever.

Ta'ashka looks into the darkened gold of Neteyam's wicked eyes as you swallow his cock whole without complaint, "Ell-osde' pauk."

Your stuffy ears can just make out the synchronized roar of snarls that follow whatever presumed insult Ta'ashka had thrown Neteyam's way, neither of the two quite willing to let go of your soft body to grapple out their desire to possess you wholly. The commanding heat your body provides surrounding their cocks is enough to incapacity any creature on this planet or the next, searing greed bubbling deeply into their body as they begin taking anything and everything you're satin form is willing to give them.

Your lungs burn with the need for air, raw throat stuffed with Ta'ashka's leaking cock muffles the sounds Neteyam's deep thrusts are drawing out of your already wrecked hole. The sensitive peaks of your nipples have been twisted and pulled on until they're numb and stinging with pleasure, your mouth has begun to overflow with your saliva and Ta'ashka's precum flowing from the corners of yours lips and down your neck, hoarse throat relaxed enough for the girthy heat of Ta'ashka's cock to easily slip down your throat with ease. There's a tinge of animalisticness to him as he fucks your throat, a taste of what could be and a experience that'll never happen again, a sorrowful thing to mourn but is instead driven in a hollow claim that Ta'ashka knows will never last. But it is an implication not even Neteyam could take away from him.

Your clit is swollen with how it's been continuously abused in hopes it'll prolong this ever lasting moment Neteyam is bound to make of this, your pussy's so wet with your combined juices that a constant string of obnoxiously slick sounds coats the sex heated air at every punishing thrusts he gives. The heavy tip of Neteyam's cock rests on that sweet spot nestled deep in side you, reaching so deeply that you swear he's fucking your womb at this point, determined to make you unneeding and unwanting of anything but him from now on, to wreck you so intensely that you'll never have a passing thought of your former lover ever again.

The bulging of Ta'ashka's heavy balls begin to draw up where they're resting against your chin, a shadow of the electrifying burn of pleasure making it's way through your body, numb limbs not even able to support your own weight anymore as all your mind and body could focus on is the tightening of your core around Neteyam's relentless rocking, a part of your brain demands to pull away from him and rip his hands off your body, that allowing such a sweet release to occur with someone you loathe so much is forbidden in ever way. But you're beyond forbidden, and you're beyond forgiveness as your rapacious need for release washes over you.

All that you know is sex in this moment. The smell of sex and sweat filling your nose along with the natural scent of the ravenous beasts encompassing you. The sounds of wet, slick skin slapping into each other mingles together with the pants and growls and moans emanating out of all three of you. The contrasts of their body's clinging to you as they take all they can overwhelms your tired mind, body weak and hungry for a release you shouldn't want; a type of release you've never have before.

The flood of seed flowing down your throat from Ta'ashka's twitching cock masks your loud cry as you cum around Neteyam's cock, creating a thick cream ring to form on his hilt, the evidence of your orgasm streams down his abdomen and thighs like a dirty painting needing to be covered, a secret you know he'll mock you for later on and until the end of time; or until your days number out. Neteyam's own amusement doesn't last very long as his own orgasm comes crashing through him, not even bothering to cum any other place but your sticky cunt, painting your walls white with his seed he prays will stick.

It seemed to all be over in an instant.

The dripping sweat that never cease has now dried into a cold shiver that won't go away. No rough scales or velvet skin is touching you, no razor like claws or sharp teeth threatening to cut or bite your skin, not a hiss or chitter can make it to your stuffed up ears as you lay in the darkness of your mind. You're alone on a bed of leaves, the glow of night just barely shining behind your eyes to show some time has past, the exopack sitting securely on your face is almost a distraction from the burning in your throat and in between your thighs.

They're gone.

A thrill of delight shivers down your spine, relief pricking at your eyes that freedom is just at the tips of your fingers. One single bath and a snack will have you on your way to your bethrothed once again and you'll find solace in forgetting your mistakes in his arms.

In the far distance, just in range for your little human ears to hear... There's a call, quick and high pitch like of a hunter luring it's prey, or a Na'vi calling on it's steed.

Following closely after is a shrill clicking, a rumbling purr of something not of this planet. A predator seeking it's prey out of it's hiding, or a warrior signaling it's closeness to it's target.

A single tear drips from your closed eyelid to fall down onto your temple and into your hair at the unwantingly familiar calls.

This hunt is far from over.

©️Eywaite2024 | All rights reserved. Do not republish, steal, repost, modify, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓼: @tallulah477 @eyweveng @neteyamsoare @blue-slxt @puddle-nerd @lovelybruises @fadedpetal @xylianasblog @luvv4j4ybe11

it's never Jake's place, authority, or responsibility to have been there for Spider.... until he suddenly feels like he can force the kids to submit to his oppressors, to the very people he hates and has fought against. who he has tried to prove over and over again that he is not apart of, that he isn't like them, like his father, and the never will be. to tell him to walk to his own doom, if not hide away in the woods and wait for them to stop shooting while he and his family runs.

heyy i love ur works sm, could u possibly write a fic like the one you wrote about Lo’ak in Unmoveable, but with Neteyam as the alpha and the reader as the bratty/dominant omega. (Preferably fem reader) Tysm!!

Pairing: Adult Alpha Neteyam x Olangi Princess Omega Reader

Summary: Princess or not, a spoiled brat like you needs to be put in her place. And since you have been given over to him now, Neteyam is more than ready to put that attitude in check.

Warnings: dubcon/noncon, explicit MDNI, aged up Neteyam, omegaverse, dom/sub dynamics. power imbalance, very talkative Neteyam, breast play, nipple clamps, anal, punishment, kidnapping/arranged marriage, swearing, etc.

A/N: Hi anon...you probably thought I was never going to fufill this request😆😅 Hopefully you are still online to see this

Adult Neteyam pic by Cinetrix

Unmovable for reference

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting.” You reply simply, folding your legs upon where you are perched on a nearby boulder. 

“Is that so?” One of Neteyam’s hairless brows curves upwards into an unusual expression as he places his hands on his hips. You shrug it off as morphed social skills he has picked up, a consequence of living with Sky People. You don’t let it ruffle your feathers. 

“Yes. Soon you will have left and I will finally have some peace before my clan comes to get me.” You supply the information with a tilted chin and confidence oozing from every pore even as the towering alpha closes in on your space. 

“Your clan has given you to me, princess.” 

You refuse to meet the gaze that somehow manages to penetrate your defenses with a heated fire, contrary to his poised posture that emanates a relaxed grace. 

“An oversight on their part.” Your fingers interlock together and place on your lap. If he wants to put on a tough bravado why shouldn’t you? “Once they come to realize their mistake they will come to retrieve me. Until then, I wait.” 

However, waiting here may take more patience than you care to admit. The Olangi clan are known for their expertise as pa’li [direhorse] riders but even they may require a day or so to catch up to the point where Toruk Makto’s son has dragged you to. It's the furthest you have ever been from home. Consequently the first time you have seen the beautiful rolling grounds of the plains slowly transform into congested forest. 

You can only see a portion of the sky with these interlocking trees in the way. It pushes in on you like the bars of your enclosure, yet another representation of how trapped you have become in Neteyam’s grip. 

“I’m waiting too, paskalin [honey].” You shuffle slightly when he comes to sit beside you. The rich essence of his scent wraps around you in a vice-like grip. It has your inner omega running restless but you maintain a serene exterior. It wouldn’t be the first time an alpha has tried to rope you into submission with drifting pheromones. “In fact, we all are waiting.’ He gestures to the handful of Omatikaya warriors that have made the journey with him. They pretend to busy themselves with loading up pa’li that are already prepared. “Waiting for you to stop this tantrum of yours.” 

“Tantrum?” The word feels foreign on your tongue. 

“It means a child throwing a fit when they do not get their way.” 

“I am not a child!” You seethe, lips peeling back to reveal your pointed fangs. “I am a princess and-”

“And I am a prince.” Neteyam shrugs, cutting you off. “Yet neither of those titles mean anything out here.”

You scoff, allowing your hair to act as a protective curtain from his searing attention. A prince. What a laughable thought. A true prince does not drag a female away from her home with bound wrists and promises of mating. He has no right to call himself such a thing. 

Then again, your father calls himself Olo’eyktan yet he was the one that handed you over to the alpha. All for the promise of protection against the RDA. The Omatikaya could have asked for anything to seal the alliance between your two clans in battle but all that Neteyam had come to collect was you. 

Your father’s decision, however, could be forgiven in your eyes. He was doing what he thought was best for the people. His greatest error was believing Neteyam would be a suitable mate for you, for thinking that any alpha would be a good match for you after all that you’ve expressed against such a union. You are a free spirit. Despite your presentation as an omega you were never meant to live in an alpha’s shadows. 

“Look at me.” His voice is soft but firm. Another scoff of refusal is traveling up your throat but this time Neteyam doesn’t wait for you to follow his command. He captures your chin and forces you to turn and feel the weight of presence. It feels as if his alpha pheromones not only bleed into the space between you but also cinch around your throat like a claws. “I am your alpha now, your mate. That is the only title you should be focused on.” 

Neteyam is a strange alpha, that you have come to quickly realize. Where other alphas often raise their voices in demand for respect and submission he delivers his commands in the form of smooth purrs traveling down your spine. He uses force when necessary but never done rashly or out of anger, simply a tool to get you back to where he deems you should be. Among the other males there is no passive aggressive commentary or puffing of chests to remind them of rank. 

Instead he converses with them as old friends do. He leads the group in every sense of the word but it’s done with almost a playful hand as they laugh and make jokes with one another. And yet, after all of this backwards messaging, there is an air of dominance that laces his every move. He walks and talks with a relaxed expression as if he knows there is no need to prove himself. His supremacy is something that would not dare to be questioned. 

And somehow that comes off as higher snobbery than any other foolish alpha you’ve seen wrestle for your hand. 

“I don’t have an alpha. Nor will I ever.” With a tug your face is whipped from his hold. You manage to conceal the rush of heat to your cheeks by smoothly shifting your hair and facing away from him once more. “I suggest you accept that fact and stop wasting both of our time.”

Not a single bat of your eyes in his direction as you stare confidently ahead at the strange tree in front of you and wait to hear the party’s retreat. Instead your ears only catch the sound of a small sigh and shuffle before Neteyam is standing before you. 

“Come now, princess. It’s been fun but we still have ground to cover.” He reaches his hand out to help you up but you only gamble casting a glance at it from your peripheral vision. As far as you are concerned, Neteyam does not exist in your world. And so you treat him as such. 

“Neteyam!” A voice bellows across the distance. “We are losing daylight, brother. Are we set to travel?”

Neteyam doesn’t hesitate to send the other male a small smile before saying, “She is coming along now.”

“No I am not.” Your instant response is tainted with a gasp of offense. How dare he speak for you! “I am not moving from this rock until my clan comes to get me.” You insist, slapping his hand away. 

Neteyam remains unperturbed, simply giving a shrug before murmuring, “Have it your way then.” 

You aren’t afforded a second for a sense of victory to settle in before the prince is tossing you over his shoulder. Strongs arms wrap around the back of your thighs to keep you pinned there and decrease the range of motion for kicking. It doesn’t stop the gasp of outrage and pure spite that emanates from you. Limbs swinging in every which direction to deliver damage, you quickly resent the way his strength greatly overpowers your own. 

“I am not some fresh kill for you to carry home. Set me down right this instant!”

“I gave you the chance to walk over with dignity, princess. What else am I supposed to do?” He tries to retort but you can detect the grin in his voice. Even more humiliating, from your upside down position you are still able to spot the other males squirming to not laugh at your compromising position. 

“You are a mongrel of a man!” 

The scratchy venom of your tone is morphed into a surprised squeak when you are let back onto your feet. Regardless, you remain trapped in Neteyam’s arms as you are wedged between him and a pa’li. 

“Don’t waste your energy, tiyawn [love]. It will be at least a few more days before we reach Omatikaya soil.” 

They are surrounding you from every side. The five other males may wear amused expressions and appear to be enraptured in conversations with one another but you are no fool. These men are under Neteyam’s jurisdiction. At the first sign of trouble they will be snapping into action. Running now will only get you dragged back and fighting against Neteyam’s hold may get you flung into a humiliating position again. 

“At least let me have my own pa’li. I know how to ride.” 

Neteyam's chest heaves with the responding laugh that awakens within him. White pearly teeth on display, his amusement rises higher. Several of the others try and fail to not join in. It heightens your blood pressure until your face is hot to the touch.

“That’s a very good try, princess.” He beams, patting your hip. 

Neteyam unfortunately is not the fool you hope for him to be. Nor the arrogant alpha that would make the mistake of believing himself capable of catching you once you’ve set off on a pa’li. You’ve been riding since you were barely able to walk. The Omatikaya may understand the concept, but they hold not near the same precision and skill that your years of training have granted you. 

It’s a fact he seems acutely aware of because he doesn’t let you saddle up first. All it would take is a few seconds for you to make the bond and leave them in the dust. Instead, he hands you off to another male as he settles himself upon the creature and only after he has made the bond himself does he have you lifted to sit in front of him. 

By the time you settle around a fire for dinner and begin setting up camp, you can feel your eye on the verge of twitching. This journey has been nothing but painful and slow. So exceedingly slow. Although every step is one step further from your home that doesn’t erase the annoyance you feel at their painstaking pace. The only thing that stops you from snapping at them to hurry up is the hope that this extra time will help you come up with some sort of escape plan. 

It’s clear that your father’s remorse is far too sluggish for you to solely rely on at this rate, so it seems it is once again up to you to meet them halfway. 

However hatching up plans is exceedingly difficult when you have an alpha sculpted against your back, his essence clouding your mind and his eyes constantly peeking down at you as if he knows every thought swirling in your head. Try as you might, there is no reasonable way to veer away from his touch while riding the pa’li, at least not one that keeps you from developing excruciating back pain. 

Trying to set your inner turmoil aside, you focus on using this time away from the Omatikaya prince to properly set your head right. However, it seems Neteyam has different plans as he settles to lounge by the fire. He thanks one of the other males for a drink he is handed before his attention lands on you. 

“Come sit, princess.” He pats the spot beside him. There may be a warm smile to accompany his words but you know that it is nothing short of a command. The steely undertone of an alpha’s call reverberates in his tone. 

It locks your spine into a ramrod straight position and your tail already tries to tuck itself the longer you wait to obey. It’s irrelevant, however. You’ve become quite adept at pushing down your omega instincts in favor of following your own logic instead. 

With a smooth stroll and a feigned innocence to your smile, you maintain eye contact while making a show of sitting next to a different male across the fire. He’s a beta and your proximity immediately has him twitching. 

Neteyam’s golden eyes take on a darker hue, but he remains where he is. You’ve challenged his authority, in front of his men no less, but somehow you escape the night unscathed from his rath. Or so you think. 

It’s hard to say whether these sleeping arrangements are usual for the Omatikaya or rather just a setup meant for traveling. Either way, it is the most bizarre thing to sleep in a roll of fabric high up in the trees. Netyam claims it’s safer to stay off the ground during eclipse in the forest. A silly point truly when it’s just as dangerous, if not more likely, to turn over in your sleep and fall to your death. 

Climbing up to the hammock is all the more painful and terrifying than riding with Neteyam. He patiently trails behind, waiting and giving unwanted direction for your climb until you have finally cocooned yourself in the fabric. Still trembling but refusing to voice any complaints that could be mocked, you take a moment to catch your breath. 

That moment is exceedingly short.

The hammock suddenly swings and you look up to find the prince lowering himself down carefully from a branch above. 

“No no, absolutely not. This is my bed. Get out.” He chuckles as you try to push and swat at his muscular thighs but it’s no use when he is settled in the fabric a few seconds later. 

“Technically it is our bed.” 

“Then I will take my chances on the ground.” Your stomach somersaults at the thought of enduring the climb down. 

Comment ignored, Neteyam coaxes you to lay down before slipping himself behind you. You’re tempted to kick when he wraps an arm around your waist but the hammock is still swinging to a point of nausea. Best not to make it any worse. 

“You’re trembling, omega.” It’s murmured against the shell of your ear. There is no need to look down in order to confirm his assertion. How do the Omatikaya sleep peacefully up in the trees like this? You’ve never considered yourself to have a fear of heights but today has you questioning that assurance all together. 

“You look like you need someone to calm you down.” The palm of his right hand runs up and down the length of your arm, as if the transferring heat there would diminish your shivering. 

“What I need is a break from your pestering.” 

“I already gave you one.” His tale tickles at the back of your knee just as his accented voice deepens. “A break that I have still not received a thank you for.” 

“I wouldn’t hold your breath waiting, my prince.” You sneer. It wasn’t his decision to have you sit away from him during dinner. It was entirely your own and he is not about to receive acknowledgment as if he had any control over what you do. 

“I hope you know what you’re playing at, princess.” 

Those are the last words he speaks of the night and consequently the same ones that leave you restless and twitching. Sleeping like this is impossible. When you’re not worried about falling to your death you become acutely aware of every point of contact between you and Neteyam. His toned chest is like a bustling fire against your back. His tail at some point wraps around knee as if it belongs there. Even his silky ebony braids tickle at your neck, almost as bad as where his face tucks itself behind your ear. 

There is no forgetting who lays behind you. Sleep seems to never come because you are constantly trying to calm your raging heart and control the pheromones that threaten to slip into the air. That would wake him up far too easily. 

His breath is heavy, heartbeat consistent and strong from where it pounds against your back. You’ve been sure for a while now that he is fast asleep. Now is the time to make your move, but frozen you remain. Eventually you look down to find that your fingers have begun tracing the veins of his forearm as an anxious tick. 

Thank Eywa he seems to not wake up from the touch. Or perhaps it is the smooth caress that has coaxed him further into sleep. Either way, you hold very little hope of not only climbing down the trees without splitting your pretty head open but also doing so unnoticed. 

Sleep comes and goes along with the hours until waiting has wound you taunt. It is only a matter of time before the sun rises again and you’ve lost the window of opportunity. So with sweaty hands and a heart threatening to come up your throat, you cautiously slide yourself out from his hold. 

By some miracle it turns out that Neteyam is the deepest sleeper you have ever met, because even as the hammock sways from your climbing out, he simply lets out a sigh and turns his head further into the fabric. 

Scaling down the tree is a test in vigilance and patience. Every smooth breath you force yourself to take is a practice in these arts. Stubbornly you refuse to look down, knowing it will only bring forth nerve ridden mistakes. So with the pace of a snail you inch further and further down the trunk. 

You just need to make it to a pa’li.

That’s it. 

So close. So very close, you tell yourself, even as you know it’s a lie.

“What are you doing?”

Your breath catches in your throat, thighs tensing as you remember to still keep hold. Your muscles relax slightly, however, when you notice that the voice holds an Omatikaya accent but it is not Neteyam’s. The beta from dinner sits up in his hammock, eyes squinting at you through the darkness. Say the wrong thing and he is bound to sound the alarm. 

“You should not be out of bed.” He sighs. 

“I must relieve myself.” Biting your bottom lip you steer your features into confident defiance. “Or am I not allowed to do that too?”

The beta lets out a sigh and a curse you do not recognize. It must be part of the Sky People’s weird language. 

“Alright, I will assist you just wait for a moment.” 

“I don’t require an audience.” 

“But you do require supervision.” 

It’s difficult to argue when you remain clinging to a tree for dear life. So when the beta helps you make it down the tree foothold by foothold, there is nothing left in you to protest. Instead, you simply shift gears. 

“Be quick.” The male says, gesturing to a secluded spot behind thick bushes.

“It takes as long as it takes.” Head held high, you walk past him and into the bushes. Luckily the sounds of nocturnal creatures are loud enough to excuse why you are so silent in the bushes. Furthermore, it’s clear that male has at least some respect for your privacy as a woman when he doesn’t question again what takes you so long.

Those advantages aside, running now would still do you no good. He has steered the two of you further away from the pa’li and running on foot will only get you lost in this entanglement of greenery. And with a beta, one native to the area nonetheless, there is no chance of getting far. 

Lucky for you, there is always one sure fire way to disable a man without violence. 

“What did you say your name is again?” 

The beta straightens when you walk past him. 

“Um, I didn’t.” He picks up into a jog to catch up with your sudden retreat. Not a foot of space is granted between you two. He has grown suspicious. 

Shifting your long glossy hair over one shoulder, you look over at him with a subtle pout. “Well I don’t see how that’s fair. You know my name but I don’t know yours.” 

The beta doesn’t immediately melt at your softened composure like most males at home do. Rather he seems to clear his throat in discomfort before muttering out, “Ke’ve”

“Hm, Ke’ve.” You repeat back, as if savoring the taste of his name on your tongue. He’s nervous. No doubt, devoted to keeping his distance from the prince’s intended. There are ways to relax him, however. “Well Ke’ve, not every male is noble enough to lend his help in the middle of the night. You must know your presence has brought me great comfort out here.” 

His eyes scrunch but he doesn’t respond, perhaps unsure of what response would be safe. 

“You see,” With a sigh, you come to a halt. “I’m not very accustomed to feeling vulnerable. We are so far from home in a place I have never been but I still do not enjoy being seen as weak. So I wouldn’t admit this to anyone else but I feel as if I can trust you when I say,” You pause for dramatic effect and will tears to your eyes. “I’m scared.”

Were it an alpha, the essence of your fear would be enough to swoop you into their arms and make an oath of protection. Ke’ve on the other hand is a beta, so his response is more subtle. Yet just as promising when his expression falters and he looks on the verge of sighing again. 

“You are safe with us.” And as sure as the sun rises in the morning, so does that inevitable flash of concern spring forth. 

“I do feel safer with you.” Just a gentle brush of your fingers against his elbow. So subtle in wake of your shining vulnerability that he doesn’t shrug it off. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” 

A few stray pieces of hair fall over your cheek to frame your depiction of soft spoken innocence. You are perfectly poised like a flower ready to be picked, a delicate beauty that deserves to be protected at all costs. The same disposition that has had beta men falling at your feet time and time again. 

They are always enchanted by your demeanor. So much so that when the Olo’ekytan’s daughter suddenly spins the table so she is straddling their waist and taking control, they can’t help but hand the reins over. 

“Yes well you…you don’t need to worry.” Ke’ve’s eyes don’t hold the same snare that Neteyam’s do but you can already imagine how pretty they will look rolling to the back of his head when you have his cock in your mouth. Pleasure has a way of rendering a man defenseless, therefore giving you the perfect opportunity to carry out your plans. 

With the stealth and precision of a predator stalking its prey you snake your hand up his bicep and over one broad shoulder. Consequently it has your own face inching closer to his wrist where you sensually let his pulse point rub over your throat. It will leave the trace of his scent there, igniting a primal side of him that can be molded perfectly into your designs. “How can I repay you?” You ask, batting your lashes up at him as you begin the slow descent to your knees. 

But they never hit the ground. 

Sharp pain erupts along your scalp as a hand abruptly grabs a chunk of your hair at the roots. That hold is used to veer you back onto your feet and fall back against a warm chest. “I can think of a few ways.” 

Your carefully crafted composure shatters into a hiss as you try to recover from both the shock of being caught and the unforgiving grip Neteyam has in your hair. Even more so, the tingling sensation that brutal hold sends down your spine. 

“Ow! Let go!” 

“Tell the others I will be having a little talk with my omega.” Neteyam commands, ignoring your useless struggling. “You are dismissed, Ke’ve.” The beta doesn’t need to be told twice, already scurrying to get away. 

“Now let’s get you sorted out.” Still keeping his hand tangled where you try to dislodge it, Neteyam drags you further into the mysterious forest. You note that the distance, however, is not quite far enough to completely conceal your whining from the others. 

Feet stumbling once that hold is released, you find yourself unceremoniously deposited onto a large boulder. You can spot the cliff’s edge where it drops down into a waterfall and beyond is the rolling landscape of Pandora’s forest. The glimmer of eclipse is slowly shifting into the first ray of sunshine to cast over the horizon. 

“You just had to prove me right, tiyawn.” Neteyam tutts, squatting onto his haunches so that he is at your level. 

It takes considerable effort to get your brain back online and position yourself into a pose more flattering and fit for a princess. No male has ever handled you so roughly. They wouldn’t dare. But the sting of Neteyam’s tug on your scalp leaves a strange ache behind that has your mind reeling. Trying to put your confident mask back on, you fuss with your hair to get every strand back into place. 

“And you just had to act like a barbarian.”

“Did you really believe it was that easy to sneak away from me?” 

Your throat runs dry when you meet his eyes. This wasn’t a near successful escape, it was planned. One look at his face and it’s clear that he knew exactly when you left and exactly who was assigned to deter you. 

“Can’t a woman pee in peace?” You fumble out, making your last attempt at defending your story.

“I suppose not when it ends in you practically nuzzling at another man's tewng [loincloth] like a little slut.” 

Your jaw drops before you can stop it. Eyes ablaze and tail pointed on alert, you are tempted to throw caution to the wind and slap the alpha’s pretty face. No male, in fact no Na’vi, has ever used such a vulgar term to depict you. You’ve had your share of fun among the betas in your clan, but that makes you no less glittering of a gem. And certainly not a slut. 

“No man of honor would even think of using such a term, let alone directing it at me.” When you rise up to your full height, Neteyam stands in suit. “Is this why you asked for my hand? Any normal prince, especially the son of Toruk Makto, should have half the women in the clan begging to mate with him. But maybe even they could not see past your arrogant disrespectful bravado, so you had to travel to another clan entirely to find an unknowing prospect.” 

“Is that your theory?” Tone deceptively calm, the deep drag of his voice washes over you like silk. 

“You may think that you’ve conquered and can now return home with a pep in your step but no matter what you do, there will always be one truth that will haunt you.” 

You gulp down the lump in your throat when one of his long strides closes the distance between you. Regardless, you refuse to retreat. 

“And what truth is that, princess?”

Your wild eyes shoot to pierce through him. 

“That you chose wrong.” You let that statement hang in the air for a beat, hoping it will press down on him in the silence. However it is disappointment that lays a hold on you when his unreadable expression remains in place. 

“Is that so?”

He’s close enough to nearly feel the beat of his heart. 

“It may be your experience that omegas in your presence bow in submission and shudder beneath that charming grin, but I am not one of them. I am not subject to swooning for or baring my neck to any alpha. I am too independent for your tastes.” 

His chest vibrates with a deep chuckle, one that ironically holds no jovial warmth to it. Instead, paired with the sinful curve of his lips, it wraps thick tendrils around you that act as the calm before the storm. 

“You’re not independent, princess. You’re a spoiled brat.” 

He’s undeterred by your scoff or bat of your hands when he forcefully grasps your chin between two fingers. 

“When my father finds out what kind of man you-”

“Your father has done you a great disservice.” Two steps forward and Neteyam has successfully backed you up against the cool stone. “He has given you everything you’ve asked for, let you go entirely unchecked. We can place part of the blame on him for turning you into a spoiled little thing that thinks it only takes a bat of her lashes to get what she wants.” 

When your lips part to sneer a nasty comment at him, Neteyam swiftly presses his thumb over them. 

“It’s because of this spoiled attitude that you have not properly learned the pleasure of submitting to your nature.” He’s not trying to hide the shadow of his scent over you now, it circles you into a clouded dome. Leaning his head down, his lips just barely whisper against your own that are still trapped beneath his thumb. “You don’t understand the ecstasy of being tamed.” 

A warmth pools at the pit of your stomach. You recognize that feeling and what it means. Putting your desire to win this argument aside, it’s clear that now is the time to bow out before this escalates too far. 

“Get off.” At first it’s just a whisper. Then when Neteyam’s body remains curled over yours, rock hard and unmoving, your voice rises. “I said get off! You egotistical pervert!” Your cries don’t stop and neither does the useless rain of your fists against his chest. 

But then he is snatching your wrists and hooking a hand beneath your thigh to slide you up onto the rock. The stone is cold against your exposed back and ass, your tail becoming trapped beneath your own weight. Neteyam crushes all hope of sitting back up when he cages your smaller form with his own bulking frame. 

“Always have to make it difficult, don’t you, tiyawn?”

You fight the urge to squeeze the muscles beneath your captured hands when they land on his chest to push him away. 

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult if you just got off of my ass for once.” 

“Oh but princess that is exactly where I want to be.” That devilish grin is accented by a ray of sunlight painting his features. 

Without an inch of personal space it becomes aggravatingly obvious how gorgeous the man above you is. Neteyam is the perfect contrast of broad shoulders and a slim waist shown off by his beautiful woven battle band. His immaculate braids swing down across his cheeks and collarbones to frame his intense eyes, sharp jawline, and lips that were simply made to do sinful things. 

 Your reflection is cut short when a band begins to wrap around your wrists. Squirm as you might, Neteyam holds no sympathy for your protests as he expertly ties the appendages together. Empty threats. Cries for help. None of them make an ounce of difference. 

“Scream as much as you want if you’re that eager to give the others a show.” 

That shuts you up in an instant. It confirms your earlier observation of proximity and immediately has you playing back the conversation to guess how much of it that other males have already heard. 

“You’re a monster.” 

“Hm, and all yours, princess.” A wicked grin across his lips, Neteyam secures your bound wrists to a low branch over the rock. You’re left stretched out and trapped laying across the boulder beneath him. 

That cocky expression blanches its color once he draws his nose along your neck. The exact spot you had tricked Ke’ve to scent you. Your heart hammers on its own accord when Neteyam’s wicked smile drops. Mere seconds ago nothing had seemed more appealing than ripping apart the alpha with the lash of your tongue, but now something in you warns to stay still. To stay quiet. 

“I was going to wait until we reached Vitraya Ramunong [tree of souls], in light of tradition.” His breath is hot against your neck, a heat that travels like lava down to your very core. “But it seems my little brat can’t wait that long.” 

His teeth sink in without warning. It takes a moment for the shock to fizzle out and allow you to feel the pain. Neteyam’s teeth bite and capture the soft flesh there without mercy before his lips suck a dark spot directly over where Ke’ve’s scent used to be. 

Your spine arches, hips already bucking without your consent. The only response to your screams and squirming is Neteyam’s own hips pressing you back against the stone. He is ravenous. Biting, sucking, and licking at that one spot until the area has become desensitized to his ministrations. 

Your body has spiked from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds. Your head reels with the whiplash of having the male reprimand you one moment and the next sinking his teeth into a mark terrifyingly close to your mating gland. 

“Better.” Neteyam finally murmurs against your neck. He seals the mark with a deceptively tender kiss as you are left short circuiting. Your instincts flare, that primal part of your nature climbing out from under the rock you’ve kept it trapped beneath. 

“Are…are you insane? Biting that close-” 

“I won’t mark you there tonight, tiyawn. Want to be able to feel you through the bond when that happens.” A curved knuckle runs down your kuru, making your toes curl. “Once we are under the spirit tree together. There are still some traditions I’d like to keep.” He says with a grin that you could almost associate with a charming gentleman, not the same male that just savagely ravaged your throat like a predator of the night. 

“But we will need to find a way to get you to behave until then.” You can’t mirror the ease he feels as he speaks. It becomes clear now how dire your circumstances are. You had thought Neteyam wouldn’t dare to put a hand on you without permission but now he has proven to be more than willing to not only touch but leave marks behind. There is no telling where he draws the line. 

And you’re scared, just as you should be, but there is something else far more terrifying that plumps into your bloodstream. A dangerous intrigue that borders excitement. 

“How do you suggest we do that, princess?” 

No matter how hard you try, no humble response willingly bubbles to your lips. Neteyam is still an asshole, gorgeous or not. Alluring or not. No matter how tempting he may be, that doesn’t mean it’s worth exploring the mysterious punishment he has up his sleeve. And you…well you’re still pissed. 

“My behavior is nothing in comparison to yours. You-”

A hand comes down on the side of your ass hard enough to have you choking on those words. 

“You hit me!” Neteyam simply tilts his head at your accusation. 

“Good observation, tiyawn.” Not a hint of apology present. This man is not remorseful, he is proud. “If you keep running your mouth like that I will be forced to do it again. Knowing you, it won’t take long for me to tan that ass red.” 

Your father never spanked you as a child. It would break his heart to see his little girl cry the tears it would inevitably provoke. And with your dating experience exclusively being betas, no man has ever tried to right that wrong. Thinking of riding on a pa’li with a red ass now has fear jumbling threats past your lips haphazardly. 

“I swear on my-”

His right hand clamps over your mouth. The pressure is hard enough to have you whining beneath his skin. 

“That’s enough from you for now.” 

There is nothing left for you to do but watch. Body rendered immobile and now your last weapon at your disposal silenced, you are at the utter mercy of the prince. A mercy that does not appear to be afforded any time soon as his other hand trails down to start undoing the knots of your top. 

It shouldn’t be as scary as it is, watching string be string get unlooped as your crystal top begins to fall slack. However, this particular intimacy is one you are not accustomed to. 

It had started out as just a silly game you had played when you first started dating. Men were often foaming at the mouth to get a proper glimpse of your subtle breasts. It had been an immediate source of amusement as you’d seen how far they were willing to go for only a chance. And even more rewarding when you noticed how easy it was to never follow through with satisfying this desire. 

So it continued. It became somewhat common knowledge among your lovers, and any future interested prospects that you keep that part of yourself private. However, you hadn’t meant for it to go on as long as it did. Eventually you would cave to a worthy beta and watch him go feral, but that was before you discovered simply how sensitive your nipples are. It only took a few times of playing with yourself, brought on by your interest in nipple piercings, for you to see how vulnerable that area of you is. 

And now it is ironically Neteyam that uncovers that part of you.

He can sense the shift of your scent the moment it happens. With every tug on the feeble strings your essence takes on a darker hue. Pleasure and pain. Arousal and fear. These combinations are ones you have not been properly exposed to. Perhaps were it not for him, you would never have been humble enough to try them. 

The last undone tie allows the strung crystals to slide over the curve of your chest before dropping to the floor. What pretty little things you adorn yourself with, yet they do very little to protect you. Because it’s clear to him that in your eyes, protection is never needed. You can not fathom how much you have truly gotten away with.

Prancing around in your little outfits. Torturing men with what they want but can’t truly possess. Expecting the world to shift whatever way you desire with the wave of your hand. It’s laughable how you never imagined to face the consequences of such actions. 

You’re a haughty little thing just waiting to be put in your place. 

“My brat.” Neteyam smirks, leaning down to place a kiss at the slope between your breasts. Goosebumps ripple over your beautiful azure skin. It’s a visceral reaction to the smallest of his touches and it drives him near insanity. How perfect this pretty body of yours will be as a canvas for his marks. A vessel for his heir. 

Fuck, you are beautiful. 

Perhaps he can’t entirely blame you for being so arrogant. Your beauty is enough to hold a man captive with just a simple glance. And you’ve taken advantage of that far too many times. 

He allows himself to fall captive to it now. Unlike the others, he won’t need to starve after you once you’ve decided you’re done playing with him like a toy. No, you will be bound to him. You will belong to him completely. 

“So pretty.” He coos, his lips just barely painting over your right breast. When his bottom lip hover over your nipple he watches in awe as it hardens. “But you already know that, don’t you?” 

You’ve gone silent, but he can feel the stutter of your breath beneath his hand. It would be unfair to neglect the other side, so Neteyam takes his time showing your left breast the same gentle attention that has your other nipple following in suit. He’s heard of your reluctance to reveal such pretty breasts to your lovers, but he never imagined it would be due to such sensitivity. 

It’s like watching a flower bloom for him. The way you squirm and whine at even the drag of his eyes over your delectable form. Neteyam lets his hand slip from your mouth, no longer willing to explore only with his lips. 

His fingertips start a trail down by your navel and ascend up over your stomach and towards your chest at a slow pace. When he finally reaches to gently palm at your right breasts he feels your heartbeat pounding like a drum under his fingers. So many nights he has dreamed of touching you like this, rendering you utterly speechless before he has even started. Now as your lips part and breath becomes labored from his simple touches, there is no sight more delightful. 

You are perfect. You have an attitude that is in major need of fixing but even that is simply a beautiful challenge Eywa has created for him. The way you fit in his hands, gently massaging that supple flesh, it’s clear She crafted your body specifically for him too. 

The sun has finally breached the line of the horizon and now it sparkles along your chest in a dazzling show. The white crystals woven in your hair remind him of the halos worn by the angels his father has described. 

He applies more pressure with his right hand until the plump flesh is spilling between his fingers, giving him the perfect presentation for his salivating mouth. What starts out as an open mouthed kiss a few inches above your nipple quickly turns into sucking that flesh into his mouth until you are writhing. He groans at the sounds you make and when he pulls back to see the purple mark rising along your skin, the sight is enough to have him on the brink of purring in elation. 

Neteyam bends forward and starts crafting his brand on the other side so they are a matching set. This time he takes care in placing it further below your left nipple, at the crease where your stomach meets your chest. It will be difficult for you to find a top able to cover up this claim wrought by his teeth, a purposeful decision on his part. 

“Tey…mmm… teyam wait!” 

He grins at the cute nickname you’ve already coined for him, but that only buys you a few seconds before he is finally puckering his lips around one of your stiff points. The reaction is instantaneous, spine curving and a screech barreling up your throat. He doesn’t start off sucking too hard, instead just enjoys the way you feel in his mouth. Eventually, though, the whines you make are too decadent for him to resist making them ring louder. So he sucks harder at the little point and groans around the sensitive area so that it has vibrations shooting through you. 

“Finally being so good to me, tiyawn, aren’t you?” He says, taking a moment to release your nipple with an audible pop. “Laying yourself out for me to enjoy. I knew you could be a good girl.” 

You haven’t come to earn this praise yet, but it’s important to leave an alluring snippet that exhibits what could come if you only behave. As much as you may want to fight it, your nature won’t let you escape how good such praise feels. You are a stubborn woman but your body wants to submit to him. There is a part of you, no matter how deep you’ve buried it, that yearns to please your alpha. 

He snaps you back into the moment by softly closing his teeth around your left nipple. It takes a hand against your stomach to stop you from rolling onto your side and away from his soft torment. 

“It’s too sensitive! Stop!” Your pouted lips beg but your strengthening perfume gives your arousal away. Just as he figured, you’ve yet to experience how beautifully pleasure and pain intertwine. He rolls that bud sensually between his teeth before carefully giving it a tug. 

He alternates between tormenting your nipples and savoring the plush curve of your breasts with his hands and mouth. The skin is soft beneath his calloused palms. It has him wondering how it would feel to have that velvety skin squished around his cock and as he fucks your breasts. Neteyam swallows back the pooling saliva on his tongue, a string of it still connecting his lips to where he laid his last mark on your tits. It’s almost tempting enough to forgo his plans altogether and sate his lust driven curiosity, but Neteyam shakes it away.

The two of you will have plenty of time to experiment later. 

“Teyam, please no more. It’s too much!” Your pleas have died down in volume. Now they are coated with your labored breath as you try to control the pounding of your heart. 

“Too much, princess?” He questions and guides his hand down south to rest over your loincloth. “Or not enough?” When he cups your pussy through the fabric you roll up against him and chase whatever friction he is willing to give.  

It’s not nearly enough, he can tell from your disappointed expression when he pulls away entirely. Pupils blown wide and chest heaving to catch your breath, you remain silent as he reaches for the pouch attached to his tewng. 

Neteyam pulls out a line of woven crystals, much like the ones you wear in your hair but these were foraged from the caves near his home. There are fastens on either end of the chain that took far too much time for him to craft. 

“Is that for me?” Naturally you ask, that pretty face already showing how quick you are to forget what he was doing to you mere seconds ago once a shiny gift is presented. Neteyam fights the curve of his lips and keeps his every from rolling. Always so predictable.

“Just for you, princess.”

He had crafted it after his last visit to your village. Far before the Olangi clan thought the threat of Sky People was great enough to require protection but him and his father had been there to spread the news regardless. He knew before you even spoke that you thought the world was at your feet. Even the way you walked, spoke of a spoiled elegance. And when he had tried to sate his curiosity towards you with a conversation you were nothing but rude and spiteful towards him.

He knew then that you were going to be his, one or another. 

And so he started foraging for the crystals that first night back. 

“So pretty,” you murmur, voice airy. Those golden eyes narrow as you squint to look at it. Despite your current position and already wrecked voice, a sneaky little smirk forms over your lips. “But you miscounted. My hair is much longer than that.”

He lets you have your moment, watches as you grin up at him as if you have finally landed a critical blow. All for that to sizzle out when he bends down to whisper in your ear. 

“Who said anything about your hair?” 

The confused scrunch of your features doesn’t last long when he begins running the cool metal of the clamps up and down your right nipple. Nipple clamps are not a traditional erotic tool for the Na’vi so he’s certain you don’t believe your first instinct as to where that is going until he starts to pinch the right one to prepare it. 

“Neteyam, no! Get that away-” He clasps his other hand over your mouth again. Always the demands with you. Sooner than later you will learn that begging gets you a lot further with him. It’s a little trickier to prepare with only one hand available but Neteyam manages. 

The alpha plants a knee across your pelvis to keep you place while his right hand tugs at your nipples to confirm they are pointed enough to clamp onto. When the first clamp goes on your right nipple, your screeching goes up an octave. You know what to expect better when the left one is attached but that doesn’t diminish your reaction. 

Lovely little drama queen you are, the fit that follows is inevitable. He’s tested the clamps and consulted with several Sky People before deciding to use them on you so he knows there isn’t any real damage being done. Still, you are going to squirm and screech and, were it not for his hand, probably shout every insult you can think of at him, because you have never been punished like this. And your tantrums are what has worked for you in the past. 

He lets you fight it out as he holds you down. Neteyam doesn’t mind as it gives him time to admire his handy work. The chain of crystal connecting the clamps hang exquisitely between your curves. Those stiff points have turned a new shade of purple as they peek out between the clamp’s teeth. 

“Enough.” Neteyam finally quips back, tugging at the chain. A mix between a moan and groan rumbles from your throat. Once his hand has retreated he can hear the sound properly. Keeping his pointer finger curled around the crystal chain, the prince raises a warning brow at you. “Are you done throwing your fit?”

He watches your pupils dilate and lips curl into a pout.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like my gift?” 

“It hurts.” You whimper with a quivering bottom lip. It’s difficult to say how genuine the reaction is considering what a good little actress you are. 

He nods his head, mocking your pout with a feigned one upon his own lips. That only whips your stare into pointed daggers. 

“It’s supposed to, tiyawn. That’s why it is called punishment.” He kisses right above your left clamped nipple. “A term you may become very familiar with if you don’t fix your attitude.” 

Pulling back from where you glare, Neteyam settles himself beside you on his side. His left arm props against the rock to casually support his head while the right drags down your torso. The alpha’s ears perks at the little hiss you release when he just barely brushes the chain but he continues down south. 

Another time when the moon is still out he will kiss every little tanhi that dots your precious body until you cry for more. For now, he is only focused on one location. 

Neteyam can sense the heat of your core the second his fingertips slip beneath your loincloth’s waistband. You are soft and wet, just like he had imagined so many times. Flared nostrils greedily inhale your scent as he pauses to cup your entire pussy. Much like before, you can’t help but react to his touch. With a little more pressure in his firm hold, a trickle of wetness drops onto his palm. 

Fuck, you are inescapable!

You may believe he is to blame for this arrangement but the truth is you are the one that has trapped him since the moment he caught a whiff of your essence. It is him that has been utterly destroyed by his constant thoughts of you. 

“But I know that isn’t all there is to it, is there?” He continues, softly kissing your shoulder. “It’s not just pain you feel. There’s something else.” 

Your poor bottom lip has been utterly abused by your sharp teeth. Whatever sacrifice it takes for you to keep from admitting the truth to him. He discards your tewng with one hand. 

“A unique sense of-” He spreads your folds to suddenly massage your peeking clit with his pointer finger, stealing a gasp from you. “Pleasure.” Neteyam finishes with a grin. 

You turn to putty in his hands. The tension riddled along your muscles unravel as he rubs circles along your clit with just the right amount of pressure. When he clasps the chain between his teeth and tugs your eyes fly open, taking in your surroundings as if the pleasure has made you forget where you are entirely. 

“Can’t space out on me yet, princess. We still have more to discuss.” 

Talking appears to be the last thing on your mind, hips already rolling to hump against his hand. So close to the edge already that it causes a burst of pride to warm in his chest. Warm thighs bracket his hand as if afraid it will pull away at any moment. Smiling softly at the display, Neteyam smoothly covers your upper body with his own, nose to nose in a matter of seconds. 

There is nowhere for you to hide now, every microreaction bared for him. Those vibrant eyes remain locked on his own, but he catches the way they occasionally dart to his lips before returning. 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

Your lips against his are like decadent chocolate, the swirl of his tongue around your own is another burst of flavor he simply can not get enough of. And so the prince swirls the kiss into a languid roll of passion that leaves your lips ruby red and breaths coming out in puffs once he pulls away. 

His hand is drenched in your juices. So much so that when he switches to his thumb rubbing your clit and pointer finger tapping at your entrance, those soaking walls capture him at the first sign of intrusion. Your tight heat sucks in the first digit, pulsing around him greedily as your eyes roll back. 

Another tug to the chain and he has your attention again. 

“Let’s start with an easy question, tiyawn.” He starts. “What were you going to do to Ke’ve?”

Smart little thing that you are, or perhaps manipulative is a more accurate term, you act as if the pleasure has completely swept you away from understanding him. Beautiful little whimpers rumble in your throat and a look of pure lust crosses over your deceivingly innocent features. 

Neteyam isn’t willing to wait to see how you act your way out of this. 

His finger stops curling and thumb halts before his other hand pushes your thigh upward so that he can land a crackling spank to your ass. 

“Princess,” Neteyam drawls out in a mocking sing-song voice. “I’m running out of patience.”

The charade drops but your body trembles from the sudden lack of stimulation. 

“I was going to distract him.” It’s spoken so softly that his ears twitch and strain to make sure he hears you correctly. The finger inside of you restarts, curling up against your g spot while his thumb torments that bundle of nerves from the other side. 

“That’s a nice way of putting it.” He slots his face against the slope of your throat. The fragrance that is so uniquely you is especially strong here so there is no stopping the way his tongue naturally flicks out to draw a wet line from your collarbones to jaw. “Let me be more specific. How were you going to distract him?”

The context clues were clearly enough to put two and two together, but he still demands that you say it out loud. The first step to developing remorse is acknowledging what was done. 

When you take your time thinking up a strategic answer he cruelly pulls his finger out and jams a second one back with it on the thrust. Your toes curl and your face is turned to bury in your hair. 

“Princess.” 

No response, just a small whine as he scissor his long digits to stretch those velvet walls. 

“Were you going to suck his cock?” 

Your silence is rewarded with his hand stilling. The disappointment has your lips parting to no doubt say something far outside of a good girl’s vocabulary, but one raised brow has you falter in that decision. 

He twirls the middle of the chain around one finger so it is shortened and with each word he tugs it back sharply. 

“Were. You. Going. To. Suck. His. Cock.” 

“Ah mm Yes!” You gasp, eyes squeezed shut but pussy wildly pulsing around his fingers. 

“That’s what I thought.” He revels in the naive relief you exhibit when he begins his ministrations between your thighs again. How cute of you to think that a little truth would forgive your earlier sins. 

Neteyam prowls down your body, savoring the slide of your skin against his own until he is settled between your thighs that are now pushed over his shoulders and he has an unobstructed view of your greedy cunt. While diligently pushing you closer to an orgasm, the alpha takes special care to decide where his next visual claim will be laid. He decides on two spots. 

The first one is atop your upper thigh where it will be in clear view of anyone you come across and the second is harshly sucked into the sensitive flesh of your left inner thigh. 

“You will never walk upon Omatikay soil without my marks.” 

You don’t appear to hear him.

“Oh mm Neteyam…feels so good.” 

It might just be the first good thing you’ve said all day and his inner alpha purrs in deep satisfaction. Unfortunately for you, punishment comes before rewards. 

Retracting his hand entirely, Neteyam swipes the remnants of your sticky arousal over your inner thighs, painting his beautiful canvas. There is no time to complain at the loss before he is running the flat of his tongue from your convulsing pussy up over your clit and even navel. 

That wet muscle dances along and between your folds in practiced precision. Your essence tantalizes his very tastebuds until he is producing so much saliva that it is difficult to say how much of the wet mess at your apex is made from him versus you. He supposes in some ways he is responsible for both. 

The prince’s lips shine with the evidence when he pulls back to speak. 

“Do good girls do that?”

“Huh…what?” 

“Do good girls try to suck cocks that are not their alpha’s?” He reiterates, weaving a firm steel into his voice. 

“I…uh…no,” Comes your timid response. 

Those thick lashes flutter when he returns to feasting on your delicious cunt. It only lasts for a second, however, before he is speaking against the soft skin of your thighs. 

“That’s right, tiyawn. Good omegas know who they belong to.”

Your body jolts as if stung by lightning when his thumb rubs at your sensitive nub again. He can see it in your face now. His omega is just barely tipping on the edge of release. 

“So what do you think you should do about it?”

Breath borderline erratic the muscles in your legs tense in anticipation of that wonderful release. The same one that he roughly rips away when you don’t respond, not daring to even breath across your cunt. 

“No no please! I’m so close! Just a little longer. I wanna come!” 

“What do you think you should do about it?” Neteyam repeats, tampering down the smirk that threatens to cross his lips when he sees the way you whine and tugs at your bonds. 

“For…for what?” You’re so genuinely confused he has to hold back a coo at how adorable you look. 

“What do you think you should do to make up for trying to suck his cock?”

That little head of yours is working overtime to craft an intelligent response. It becomes all that much harder when he starts playing with your clit again, keeping you tantalizingly close to the edge but never over. 

“I…I could…I..”

“Yes?” Neteyam considers himself very patient but he is forced to halt his touch when you take too long to respond and get far too close to coming. 

“No wait! Why did you stop?” Your foot stomps against the rock like the spoiled brat that you are, so utterly confused and crestfallen at being denied for the first time. Has any male ever even tried to edge you? If your response is anything to go off of, it’s clear that he will be the first to teach you the joys of orgasm denial too. 

“Answer my question, oeyӓ tiyawn [my love].” 

Frustrated tears run from the corner of your eyes and this time Neteyam is positive they are genuine. Your little pout is broken by sharp teeth torturing your bottom lip again while you try to get a hold of yourself to respond properly. 

“I…I could suck your cock.” It comes out almost as a question but the prince is eager to take it. 

“There you go.” He hoists himself up to deposit a kiss on your lips before shrinking back down and continuing a very special kiss between your legs. Your pretty thighs immediately clamp around his head, shaking so hard he can feel the vibrations. As much as he wants to taste your release properly he can’t pass up the opportunity to see your face for the first time as you come.

So the alpha escapes the cage of your thighs and replaces his tongue with skilled fingers the fuck up into your pussy and play with that precious bundle of nerves. He kisses his way up your body, this time being mindful of the crystal chain, until he is nuzzling against your cheek. The woodsy essence of his own scent will integrate there, letting everyone know that you have been claimed. 

“Such a smart girl my omega is. So good for her alpha.” 

That is your undoing. Like a woven tapestry he watches you unravel into an explosion of pure ecstasy. All of this time you’ve denied yourself the wondrous caress of an alpha’s praise. It’s left you with no defenses once finally showered with his sweet words. Neteyam groans deeply beneath your whiny scream, savoring the way his hand is now properly drenched as he rides you through the orgasm. 

You don’t register when Neteyam pulls away. In fact your head is so high above the clouds that it’s only when your hands drop like a dead weight against the boulder that you realize Neteyam has cut your bonds. 

It feels as if the world is a hazy blur of color, everything so vibrant and wondrous as you come down from that high. Even the simple kisses Neteyam gives to each of your wrists feels like drinking sunshine. In fact it is so incredible that you instantly crave more. 

More of him. 

More of this electric pleasure.

Anything and everything that has brought you into such a happy state. 

However, when the prince comes to carefully help you off the boulder and back onto your feet, it’s suddenly clear what it will take to get another taste of cloud nine. And in this case, that means tasting him. 

Neteyam hardly needs to prompt you onto your knees. Whatever is brewing inside of you is now your new addiction and somehow being at eye level with his crotch has never seemed more appealing. Your alpha wants you to atone for your sins, perhaps then he will grant you another orgasm. Well if taking him down your throat is redemption then you are going to be good at this game. 

Past experience is the foundation of your confidence. 

Hands still shaking with aftershock, they fumble to get a hold of his tewng. You’re about to catch hold of the waistband and simply rip the fabric down when strong hands catch your wrists. You look up at him in bewilderment. What type of man stops a woman on her knees second before he is about to get his dick sucked?

“We’re not going to do this your way, princess. If you want to make it up to me then you will learn to follow my instructions.” 

In some ways it’s borderline insulting. What is wrong with the way you suck a male off? No man has ever complained. And if they did, how would Neteyam even know? He’s never experienced nor witnessed what you do. But of course as an alpha he must believe he knows best. 

Typical.

Those thoughts don’t bubble into words, however, because as much as you would like to prove how fucking fantastic you are all on your own, you don’t want it more than another orgasm. Preferably by the means of his skilled tongue.

When he drops your wrists you shift uncomfortably, both impatience and the tight press of the clamps around your nipples creates the undeniable need to squirm. All while Neteyam simply watches you from above, perfectly calm and entertained by your position. 

That is until you go to shift the clamps and your wrists are immediately snagged again. 

“Did I say you could touch that?” He asks, that smooth voice taking on a smoky edge. Just when you are about to pout, however, Neteyam pulls your hands to place them along his upper thighs. You don’t need to be told twice. Running your hands along the smooth skin and squeezing the corded muscle there is a nice enough distraction to silence your objections. 

That is, until a new distraction presents itself. 

His long fingers carefully start to undo the ties of his tewng. Done at such a leisured pace it’s obvious he is determined to torture you, even pausing at one point to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before finally lets the cloth fall away. 

Excitement quickly mingles with apprehension when you see what you are faced with. 

Beta males have always satisfied you with their size, just enough to make you choke a little and hit that special spot inside of you. However, you’ve forgotten entirely what it means to be with an alpha. Neteyam’s cock curves up against his lower abs, fully hard and already sporting a drop of precum. But even the thought of fitting your mouth around that bulbous head, let alone trying to get the massive length down your throat makes your ears begin to twitch. 

All confidence quickly drains from your face. 

“Are you ready to listen now?” 

Finally peeling your gaze away from his twitching cock, you look up at him to see him staring down at you with the same intensity. 

“Yes.” You whisper, suddenly grateful for promised instruction now that you’ve been properly thrown for a loop. Perhaps you should have branched out to fucking with alphas at least once, just to know the difference properly. Because now you feel like a proper virgin waiting for their first lesson on giving a blow job. 

Surprisingly there is one feeling that rises higher than your trepidation.

Curiosity. 

Somehow the challenge before you sparks a further interest. A need to map out every part of his body until it has become less mysterious. Until it feels familiar beneath your hands.

And as if Neteyam can read your thoughts, he says, “You can explore now, tiyawn. Take your time.” 

Take your time. Not the direction you would expect from a male whose cock is fully hard and jerking against his lower stomach. You had thought all alphas to be forceful, wanting to claim and fuck in a quick and dirty fashion. But Neteyam stays true to his word when your hands slowly travel up his thighs. 

You are given more than enough time to familiarize yourself with the area. You start small, running the pads of your fingers down his muscular abdomen to feel each and every muscle there. Then once a little bit of confidence has been regained they come to rest around his base. 

The dark blue shade of his skin elegantly bleeds into a beautiful purple the closer to the tip it goes. All to then end on a subdued shade of pink along his head and balls. Even without the moonlight you can make out the small tanhi that dot along his skin. They lead along the side, creating a trail beside the thick vein lacing the underside of this cock before fanning out around the tip. As if they were perfectly crafted to entice your eyes towards the prize. 

Neteyam’s tail lashes the first time you run your fingers over him. His arousal is an essence that infiltrates the very air around you like a thick cloud. Surely he must be anxious for you to hurry up, but the prince keeps his body strictly in place for your exploration. 

It is only when he catches your tongue swiping over your bottom lip that he speaks up. 

“You can use your tongue, tiyawn.” With an inaudible gasp you pull back in surprise, practically forgetting he was there. An amused grin shows off his pearly white teeth, never faltering as you hesitate for a moment. “Are you feeling shy, princess?” 

“No.” You bite back even as your stomach does a somersault. 

“Remember, I will guide you. No need to stress.” His fingers run through your scalp and in spite of how good that feels you rear back and glare at him. 

You don’t need help. And you sure as hell are not shy. So what if you are a little caught off guard? That does not give him the right to treat you like an omega virgin ripe for the picking. 

So you draw forward and boldly draw the flat of your tongue slowly from the base to tip. Much like he had done between your own thighs. Because much like him, you are not afraid and you are not one to hand the reins over easily. 

What you do not anticipate is how the taste of him blossoms over your tastebuds. It sends a thrill through you that is difficult to conceal as you go in for another taste. It gets sloppy very quickly. The moment you try to take the head into your mouth, your nerves get the better of you and that ends up making you draw back. 

Just in time as Neteyam slots a hand in your dark locks and grabs hold of the roots. “Why are you rushing, omega?” 

“I am not.” 

“Follow my directions. No need to prove yourself.” He says, but he already wears a crooked smirk. 

It continues like this back and forth until you are finally tired of having your head yanked back by your hair so you wait for his instructions. Neteyam is meticulous in the way he has you explore, the way he forces you to taste him before even giving you the chance to take him into your mouth. 

But when you do finally take in the first few inches your inner omega springs forth without reserve. You feel every ridge and vein of his cock as they slip past your outstretched lips. And that stretch, that utterly deniable feeling of being stretched full, is what has you drawing in for more. 

Before now being on your knees has always felt like a place of power. You’ve riddle men down to whimpering messes just by the skilled trace of your tongue. You’ve swallowed everything they’ve had to give while they’ve sung curses to the sky. It is them that is rendered entirely insatiable as you hold their pleasure in the palm of your hand. 

It doesn’t feel that way now. 

It’s hard to determine what he awakens within you but every time you are pulled off of his cock and told to take a moment to breathe, it is you that feels insatiable. You figured it would get better once Neteyam fell deep enough into his own ecstasy but somehow the evidence of his pleasure only escalates your own addiction. You can never get enough of him. 

Never will you tire of seeing his magnificent neck on display when he throws his head back with a rumbled groan. Never will you suck down the taste of him enough to satisfy your carnal desires. And never will there be a more magnificent feeling than the wash of his praise over you as your throat contracts and you gags around him. 

It is him that leaves you ravenous. 

“All the way down now, princess. That’s it, you can take it.” 

You’d take just about anything this man says at gospel at this point. A fact that is evident by the way you no longer hesitate to sheath him down your throat when commanded. And when those sinfully gorgeous hips start to move, you fight every need for breath and simply let him fuck your throat without complaint. 

In fact it is you that complains when you are given a chance to breathe, tears streaking down your face and drool coating your chin. 

“No whining.” Neteyam tsks, wagging a finger playfully. It would normally piss you off but now it only registers as the absence of praise. So when he continues to the pattern, moaning and bucking his hips only to pull off seconds later, you bite back the urge to cry and beg for his cum. “Just get me wet, princess. Tongue out. There you go.” 

It makes no sense, but then again that seems to be the theme when it comes to Neteyam. He demands you suck him off only to deny you the pleasure of feeling him shoot down your throat. Your pretty face is nothing but a mess of tears and spit when he finally rears you back for the last time. For a moment it seems possible he will jerk himself off and finish across your face or pinched nipples but his next direction has your tail tucking. 

“There’s my good girl. Now stand up for me.” 

“Neteyam.” You whine but he is quick to grab hold of that crystal chain and force you to your feet as your nipples ache. 

“Are you still wet for me, omega? Spread your legs.” He slides a hand between your thighs to inspect the evidence of just how aroused you truly are. “Very good girl.” He grins against your ear, as if he didn’t already know how desperate he has made you. 

It’s only a second of attention to your clit before he is taking your hand and dragging you through the forest. 

Neteyam has always been known for being meticulous. Or in Lo’ak’s words, obsessive. He has lived his life with a plan and great attention to detail. So when he has you following him, your hand in his own, he can’t help but look for the perfect spot to take you. The ideal place where he can admire you spread out for him and finally experience what it is to be inside of that sweet little body. 

He’s pleased to find you put up no fuss when he coerces you onto your stomach with your face down and ass up. In fact, your spine curves as you look back at him, a seductive gleam in your eyes that says you are still not above playing games to get what you want. 

“M’ready.” You sigh against the grass, tail curling upwards to give him access. It may as well be the equivalent of snapping your fingers in a fetching command. Regardless, Neteyam decides to let you off this time, especially when you are creating the most gorgeous display for him. 

Your pussy clenches around open air, your cunt an absolute mess that has dripped down between your thighs. There is no mistaking what you want. 

But that doesn’t mean that is what you’re going to get. 

You don’t immediately react when he uses both hands to knead and spread your plump cheeks apart, but when he begins to push a finger at your tightest hole, you squeak and draw back. With a stern hand gripping your hip he pulls you back against him where he kneels. Tentatively you trust him once more only to squirm when he only sticks his fingers into your pussy in order to collect your slick arousal and spread it between your cheeks. 

“Neteyam!”

“Mawey, princess. You’ll like it, I promise.” And you will, despite your better judgment. 

“No, not there!” Were it not for the hazy glow he has you in now you surely would claw his eyes out for even suggesting such a thing but with his thumb reaching down to rub at your sensitive clit, your defenses are greatly weakened. 

“And why not, tiyawn?”

“I want you to fuck me.” You drawl with a whine. 

“And I am.” Neteyam slinks up so his chest is pressed against your back, pushing away your hair so he can whisper in your ear. “I am going to fuck my spoiled brat until the only words she can manage to utter are thank you and my name.”

You sputter at his sensual words, pussy trying to clamp around the finger that swirls through your juices. 

“But that’s…t-that’s not what I mean.” 

“Are you nervous, tiyawn?”

“N-no.”

“No male has ever tried to stretch this little hole before, have they?” 

You simply attempt to tuck your face away from him as it turns a lovely shade of red. Neteyam grins and kisses your cheek. 

“I am going to take every first you have left, princess. I will fuck all of your holes over and over again, including this naughty little hole.” A shudder ripples through your trapped frame. “Your greedy pussy too but the first time I do that we will bonded beneath Vitraya Ramunong so until then…” He grips your hip to keep you in place when his lubed finger finally starts pushing past that clenching rim.

“Breathe oeyӓ tiyawn.” He hushes your whines. It takes considerable effort to coax you into relaxing for him but Neteyam finds that the right amount of praise and gentle kisses seems to get the job done. 

Fuck, you are so incredibly tight! It feels as if you are trying to cut off the circulation in his fingers as he adds another. His heart races at those pulsing walls around his cock. You do nothing to aid his patience as little pants filtering from your lips and soon your eyes are fluttering closed. 

You won’t want to admit it, but this new pleasure has you entirely hooked. A strange sensation no doubt, and even uncomfortable at times he can tell as you struggle to take a third finger but so too do you eventually start pushing your hips back against the intrusion. 

Holding you in place is no longer required, allowing his other hand to slip to the front of your body and resume strumming your clit. Grass becomes intertwined with the sparkling crystals in your hair due to the way you keep turning your head to whine and squirm. 

“I wish you could see how perfect you look like this. Sweet little ass sucking in my fingers like it was made for this. I knew I’d see you like this someday, my pretty brat learning to behave.”

“F-fuck you.” You sputter.

Neteyam can’t even find it within himself to be mad when you are clenching around him like this. He’ll take care of that naughty mouth soon, but for now he is content to focus on making your body fully submit to him. 

“As you wish, omega.” 

The prince pulls his fingers out and makes sure to spread more of your natural lube over his cock. He feels like he could bust any moment just looking at your hole clenching at the loss. The gleam in your eyes when he lines the head of his cock up to your tightest hole gives him all the information he needs to know. 

“Teyam!” You gasp just before his head makes it past the entrance. 

“Doing so good for me, omega. Stay nice and relaxed.”

“It’s not going to fit.” The protest is greatly undermined by the way your pussy leaks juices down your thigh. 

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll make it fit.” 

And true to his word, Neteyam patiently rears forward and rubs sinful circles over your clit until his pelvis is cushioned by your plush ass. 

“Oh my Eywa!” You quiver, thighs no longer doing the work to keep you up. 

“What was it you said about getting off your ass?”

“You fucking…Oh…asshole.” Your insults are barely tangible as he begins with shallow thrusts. “Oh my…oh…aahh.”

“Different than you thought, isn’t it?” He smirks, but even he has to close his eyes and take a moment to breathe. Your walls cinch around him so tightly it feels as if you're trying to strangle his cock. Even his shallow thrusts take considerable effort, even more difficult not to prematurely fill you with his seed every time those gummy walls pulse. “Deep breathes. Let yourself enjoy it.” 

“M-more.”

His ears perk, wondering if he has misheard you.

“What was-”

“More! Move now! Move fucking now I swear-” The air is punched from your lungs when he harshly rears back to the tip before plunging himself all the way inside again. The noise that escapes you is one he has never heard before and he knows for a fact that it rings loud enough through the trees for the others to detect. 

Grasping a handful of hair he pulls you up onto your knees so that your back is flush against his chest. From this vantage point he can see the crystal chain sparkling in the sunlight. 

“Is that any way to ask for what you want?” He rumbles against your ear. 

The sound of clapping skin echoes through the forest as you eagerly push yourself back against his now brutal pace. 

“Teyamteyamteyam,” Comes your endless spew, head thrown back against his shoulder. He’s too lost in his own ecstasy to chew you out for not answering his question. Instead he roughly manhandles you off of his cock and pushes you to lay down on your back. 

“But-”

Legs thrown around his waist he sinks back inside to the hilt. “You need to learn some fucking patience, princess.”

“I’m sorryyyyy!” You drawl but those little hands are already grasp at his biceps, demanding that he slots himself closer. Looking down he swears he can practically see his cock moving in your stomach. 

“How are these pretty tits doing, hm?” Swooping down, he leaves sloppy kisses around your secured nipples, groaning when your fingers claws at his hair to pull him closer. “Tell me the truth now, princess. Tell me how much you love me my cock in your ass.” 

He knows you're far gone when a response comes back without any fight. “I love..ngh..ah…I love your cock in my ass. Don’t stop, alpha. Pleasepleaseplease.” 

“Take a breath for me.” He commands softly and the second you comply he undoes both claps in tandem. In some ways he has heard that taking them off is more painful than putting them on. If that is true, you must have a secret love for such pain because you bare down on him so hard that it takes everything within him not to bust inside of you. 

“Fuck!” You curse, yanking him down impossibly closer. “Neteyam!” 

“Good girl, princess. My good girl.” He murmurs between sloppy kisses laid on your chest. He licks gently over your pointed nipples in efforts to soothe them. 

Neteyam’s own patience is quickly unraveling but he wants to come in time with you. He wants you to squirt across him as he paints your walls white. So with his own breaths coming out in pants and hips ricketing at a desperate speed, he reaches between you and assaults that little bundle of nerves. 

“Come on, brat. Do as you're told for once and come for me.” 

You steal the very air from his lungs. Your silky walls milk him dry as you come around him. Stars dot his vision and his abdomen flexes at the pure pressure of his own release. He spills himself inside of you as your nails dig into his shoulder blades. 

When he finally does come down from that high, your grip won’t release. His name is a whispered mantra on your lips as you pull his heavy body atop of yours. He falls without resistance, crushing you beneath him. 

You’re overwhelmed. It makes him both proud and spiteful that no other male has truly managed to get you into this floaty state before. From the way you claw at him as if he is the very oxygen you rely on, it’s clear you don’t know how to handle such new intense emotions. To think you’ve gone so many years without truly satisfying your omega. 

“I’ve got you, omega. Your alpha’s here.” He tries to prop himself up on an elbow to relieve some of his body weight from you, but that has your panic rising. With an endless draw of sweet nothings he presses himself back down just in time for your lips to demand his. 

That anxiety gradually smoothes away the longer he indulges the impromptu makeout session. When his tongue swirls around yours, your movements become more leisurely. Even the very nature of the kiss becomes lazy while you softly play with his neat braids. 

“Teyam…”

“Yes princess?” He checks to make sure your breathing has finally turned back to normal after pulling away. 

“I’m ready to sleep.” You say as a matter of fact. 

“No tiyawn we still-” It’s too late. Chest somehow managing to rise and fall beneath his weight and eyes fluttered closed, you are dead to the world. Very typical fashion for you to simply state your wants as reality without waiting for any protests. 

He rolls his eyes fondly before carefully situating both of you onto your sides. His legs feel like thin vines walloping in the wind. Neteyam has to hold back a groan when he finally manages to slip out of you. Bathing in the sunlight with you tucked against his side, he allows himself one moment to recover and bask in the feeling. 

And when that moment is gone, he does everything in his power to dress and clean up both of you without disturbing your slumber. Your hair is still tangled and the echoing screams are sure to be enough evidence of what has happened between you two but when he walks out carrying you bridal style, he playfully glares at the other males who are anxious to make their teasing comments. They will beat him up about it later, for now it is important that you sleep. 

With narrowed eyes and a hiss he demands their silence before he situates you in front of him on the pa’li. Facing sideways on the horse you snuggle closer in your sleep, body shivering. You only wake for a second so that he can slip his thick poncho over the both of you. This way you are kept warm and eyes are shielded from the sun as you sleep.

“Well?” Tak’nal, his second in command, asks with a raised brow. 

“Problem solved.” Neteyam says simply. “Let’s go home.”

Writing this felt like a fever dream😂🫠 Please don't be shy, let me know what you think😚💗

Unofficial Taglist: @pandoraslxna @ikeyniofthetayrangi @plantgirliewholovespandora @nakedinthetrees

I cannot draw him without him looking mad as hell it's so funny

Kiri the Dove and Spider

I've fallen ill with sudden temperature, so that's the final piece so sorry💦

Kiri the Dove and her "Spider"

as a young girl Kiri claimed that cursed child Miles was in fact a golden spider from her adoptive mother's tales

yay it's me (not mario), i'm finally here 💘 what do you think about sunshine neteyam with grumpy girlfriend and the prompt: "do you always have to be so pessimistic?" and "do you always have to be so damn optimistic?" 🥴

lana ily & i love this idea so much!! sunshine neteyam with grumpy reader?? tell me more

pairing ; neteyam x fem!reader

synopsis ; sometimes you’re too pessimistic… or maybe neteyam is too optimistic.

themes ; fluff, grumpy!reader & sunshine!neteyam

The rain hadn’t let up for hours.

Thick drops fell in a steady rhythm, soaking the forest floor, turning the path back to the village into a slick mess of mud and tangled roots. You huffed, arms crossed as you stood under a broad-leafed tree, watching it pour like the sky had a personal vendetta.

Neteyam, standing beside you, looked unbothered. If anything, he looked cheerful.

You scowled. “You’re enjoying this.”

He glanced at you, wide grin tugging at his lips. “What gave me away?”

“The smile,” you muttered.

He laughed, light and warm. “Come on, it’s just rain. Kind of peaceful, don’t you think?”

You looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Peaceful? It’s cold. It’s wet. And we’re stuck out here with no shelter unless we want to make a mud bed.”

“You say that like that’s a bad thing,” he teased, nudging your shoulder with his.

You rolled your eyes, pulling your arms tighter around yourself. “Do you always have to be so damn optimistic?”

Neteyam grinned with a slight shrug, unbothered. “Do you always have to be so pessimistic?”

You glared up at him. “It’s not pessimism — it’s realism. I realistically don’t want to freeze to death out here while you hum and pretend the rain is a song from Eywa.”

He laughed again, the sound warm against the chill of the rain. Then he stepped closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. He reached out, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face with gentle fingers.

“You’re cute when you’re grumpy,” he said, so softly it almost got lost in the rain.

You blinked. “Don’t test me, Neteyam.”

His grin widened. “What’re you gonna do? Glare at me until I stop smiling?”

“Maybe.”

“That hasn’t worked yet,” he said smugly.

You huffed again — but your heart was doing traitorous little flips, because no matter how annoying his sunshine attitude was, there was a part of you that liked it, that liked him. The way he always found the light, even when you were sure there wasn’t any.

And right now, standing in the rain, miserable and wet and cold, you couldn’t help but lean into him just a little.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But if I get sick, I’m blaming you.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders without hesitation, pulling you close.

“Deal,” he said, voice soft. “But I’ll be the one taking care of you anyway.”

You groaned into his chest, trying to hide the way your face was burning.

Stupid, warm, sunshine boy.