Dark!Neteyam x innocent! Na'vi reader
Summary⋆.𐙚 ̊<The one where you and Neteyam grew up impossibly close to eachother, but as you reach adulthood you drift apart that is until things go horribly, terribly wrong. And neteyam has to draw you back to where you belong.>
Warnings⋆.𐙚 ̊<size difference, choking, dom/sub, rough, gaslight, manipulation, stalking, oral fem!receiving, squirting, sir kink,fingering, degradation, fear kink, corruption>
Neteyam did not remember a time when she did not exist.
His earliest memories were not of bows or blood or the weight of a spear in his hands—they were of a small, soft presence always just behind him, fingers clutching the woven band at his wrist as she tried to keep up with his longer strides.
Their families kelku stood close together, the shells angled along the trees. The Sullys’ home and hers were joined by a long lasting respect, love and trust from Neytiri's bestfriend. A trust that had been passed down into her daughter and through Neytiri's eldest son-Neteyam.
Every morning, without fail, Neteyam and Jake would make their way over to the neighbouring hut and knock three times.
Jake’s voice followed, deep and warm as usual.
“Can we steal our doll today?”
And every time, her parents laughed.
She would peek out first, with her big eyes, soft smile, and her hair never quite tied back right.
Jake had called her doll from the moment she could walk. Not because she was fragile—though she was—but because she had that comfort about her.
The same comfort that little girls put into their toys.
The kind that made even the great omatikaya warriors lower their voices around her.
Neytiri loved her as her own. She was the closest thing to a neice that she had-though not by blood, she would do anything to protect her bestfriend's daughter and they would do anything to protect her children. She braided her hair with reverence, painted her markings with gentle hands, scolded the boys if they played too roughly around her.
They played at the waterfall together even then. Lo’ak splashed farther out than he should have, whooping when the cascading water knocked him sideways, convinced he was invincible even then, erupting laughter out of all the kids as he scoffed in embarrassment. Kiri drifted along the water, pausing often to watch the leaves shuffle on the trees.
Spider lingered nearby, pretending he wasn’t paying attention, skipping stones and glancing up every few seconds just to make sure everyone was still there.
She stayed closer to Neteyam.
It was better that way, if she stayed near him he wouldn't go complaining to his parents that she went to far into the water, Lo'ak wouldn't get overly excited and accidentally hurt her, kiri wouldn't try to teach her to hold her breath for a whole minute resulting in a near drowning situation.
She was happy this way, she laughed when the water lapped at her calves as a result of Lo’ak’s franctic splashing, reaching for his hand when a fish surprised her, and he let her hold on without comment. Sometimes she tugged him toward the rocks to show him water flowers she liked. Sometimes she followed him without thinking, matching her steps to his like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Neteyam slowed for her without her ever realising it.
Lo’ak teased her, endlessly. He poked at her reactions, stole her things, laughed when she would pout and go stomping to Jake and Neytiri.
But he would throw punches for her without thinking.
Kiri adored her softness for it reminded her of the way of Eywa and she often dragged her into meadows to talk about Eywa and spirits.
Spider treated her like she was made of glass. Always offering her things, and always watching Neteyam carefully when he stood too close to make sure he didn't trigger a reaction.
She was not like the other Na’vi girls. They climbed higher, ran faster, laughed louder. They were edged and fearless, born knowing Pandora would either make you strong or swallow you whole.
Her laughter was quiet. She flinched at sudden sounds. She asked too many questions and trusted the answers too easily.
Pandora loved to eat girls like her.
Neteyam learned that early.
Just enough to keep her safe.
He would crouch beside her even when they would still young to warn her about the consequences of not listening.
“You must never wander too far” he would say. “There are things waiting for something like you.”
Her eyes would widen. She would nod fast and grip his arm in fear when he would purposefully step on a branch-pretending that it came from the bushes.
When they grew older, when his training intensified and his body hardened, so did his mind. He became mature and brave. He became even more of a protector than he was before. She stayed the same. Taller, yes. Older. But still gentle and soft spoken.
He became Olo’eyktan-in-waiting. A future leader. A mighty warrior in training. His future was layed out on a silver platter infront of him.
She became something else entirely.
Something that needed guarding.
Jake trusted her parents with his children, and they trusted him with her. That trust wrapped around Neteyam like permission.
He trained hard. Harder than anyone. Because strength meant safety. Because power meant control.
And because one day, he would lead—and she would still be soft.
Still his responsibility.
By the time he was twenty-two and she was eighteen, the world had shifted.
Pandora no longer felt infinite in the way it had when he was a boy, because infinity only exists when you don’t yet understand that everything has a cost, and he understood it now down to the bone.
The forest no longer felt like a playground or magical, he now understood the true dangers of it. The danger being that you never know what lurks in it
That was the age etched into him long before he was even born.
That was rhe age that the heir of the Olo’eyktan would take his place if he is ready and deemed worthy.
Jake didn’t need to remind him anymore; the weight of it sat naturally on his shoulders, heavy and familiar, like armor he’d grown into rather than something forced on him.
He accepted it, and he embraced it. And along with that came the change. He rarely laughed anymore for happiness is weakness. He rarely spoke for the more you reveal the more liabilities you make.
He was a mighty warrior. He led the omatikaya hunters. And many of the warriors. He trained the young. He built shelters. He served, he fought and he protected. Like a true Olo'eyktan.
And with that came a mate.
The clan chose his future mate with absolutely no concern for how he felt about it.
Which was odd considering the fact that everything else was chosen for him.
She was strong and had a sharp-tongue, independent to the point where compromise felt like an insult to her pride. She trained hard, fought harder, and carried herself like someone who expected obedience rather than trust, which made sense—because she was built to rule beside someone like him.
On paper, she was perfect.
In reality, she made his jaw tighten every time she spoke like command was something she already owned, every time she pushed instead of balanced. Neteyam was dominant by nature, by training, by instinct, and having someone that relentless at his side didn’t feel powerful—it felt violent.
But the level of submission that he would break her down to-might just strip his title away from him before he even got it.
He knew tha the clan didn’t need two voices clashing for control.
They needed one steady hand on the reins, and another presence that grounded them when fear crept in, someone they could breathe around when grief set in heavy and quiet.
And that presence was not the woman chosen for him.
That presence had never been chosen at all.
When she turned eighteen, the shift was immediate, and honestly unbearable.
She didn’t change who she was—she just grew into herself, and that was the problem. Her body softened and filled out in ways that caught the eye whether Neteyam wanted it to or not, curves settling where there had once been angles, her breasts filling out in a way that was so rare for Na'vi women-but she was never like the other women. She still laughed softly, still trusted too quickly, still felt like Pandora. The Pandora that he once knew.
The magic, the wonder it all flowed back when she was here.
So he pulled away. Because he now had an arranged mate. And he could no longer push how he felt towards her down.
He stopped walking her home, stopped sitting beside her during gatherings, stopped offering quiet guidance or watchful presence, and started choosing distance instead. He spoke less when she was near, avoided eye contact longer than necessary, and left spaces the moment he felt his attention drifting toward her out of habit.
She always noticed when he was feeling off.
But she didn’t confront him, she didn’t demand answers, she didn’t chase him down for reassurance, which somehow hurt worse than if she had.
For she had also matured and learned the art of choices and respect rather than the art of war and protection.
She too accepted the distance with that same quiet grace she accepted everything with, even though confusion sat behind her eyes-she accepted it.
Neteyam told himself this was discipline, that this was what leadership demanded, that protecting her sometimes meant removing himself from her world entirely—but distance didn’t stop him from watching.
He still tracked her movements through the village without thinking about it, noting when she left, who she walked with, how long she was gone, and whether she came back with the same relaxed posture she left with. He followed her into the forest whenever his duties allowed, staying far enough back that she never sensed him, but close enough that nothing else ever got the chance to.
Most nights, he slept outside her kelku, close enough to hear her breathing through the woven walls. When a predator wandered too close once, drawn by movement or scent, it never made it past the treeline, and she never even knew there had been a threat to begin with.
Pandora was no longer magical to him. But you'd be damned to think he wouldn't let it keep being magical to her.
When he noticed even a single drop of loneliness or sadness from her he reacted. He sent one of his most trusted female warriors into her life under the excuse of friendship, easygoing and harmless on the surface, loyal and observant underneath, reporting back quietly and without question.
It was better this way. Neteyam was sure of that, until...the reports came back.
She told herself she understood.
That was the easiest lie to live with, because it sounded reasonable and didn’t demand too many answers from the many questions that she always loved to ask. Neteyam was busy now, busy in the way boys who were becoming men always were, busy with training and patrols and expectations that sat heavier on his shoulders with every passing season. Of course he didn’t have time anymore to wander through the forest with her and his siblings, to stop and pick flowers just because she liked the color, to play in the water of jump from vine to vine in the trees.
She told herself that growth meant distance, that this was natural, that this was what happened when people stepped into their futures while others stayed where they were.
She told herself that it didn’t hurt because it wasn’t personal, because it couldn’t be personal, because Neteyam had never once been cruel to her.
She smiled when she saw him and he looked past her. She stepped aside when he entered a space like she had learned to do instinctively, making room for the weight of who he was becoming. She didn’t ask why he no longer walked her home, why he stopped sitting near her, why his presence lingered everywhere except beside her.
She assumed he was just busy.
That belief lasted right up until the day it didn’t.
The announcement came without warning infront of the whole clan in celebration.
Neteyam and Laïloui were to be mated, their bond chosen for strength and the future of the clan, and everyone around her reacted the way they were supposed to—with approval, pride, excitement.
She felt nothing like that.
What she felt didn’t have a name, because she had never felt it before, not once in her entire life. She had known joy, warmth, safety, and curiosity, but this was different. This was cold, sharp and sudden, like something had reached inside her chest and twisted without asking permission.
Her breath caught, not dramatically, not visibly, but enough that she noticed it and couldn’t make it stop.
She just stood there, quiet as always, while the world shifted around her and no one noticed that something essential had slipped out from under her feet.
That was when everything changed.
It was when she realised that he wasn't busy. And it wasn't an excuse.
Without Neteyam’s presence hovering quietly at her side, without the unspoken understanding that she belonged with the Sully's.
The village stopped making room for her. Conversations closed when she approached. Laughter softened, then stopped.
The friend groups she had always drifted within shut her out, leaving her outside without ever saying she wasn’t welcome anymore. She was left out of gatherings, not given anything to eat during shared meals, criticized for things that had never been faults before. Her kindness was mistaken for weakness. Her silence was interpreted as something worth mocking.
She woke up every morning with a heavy strain in her chest, the kind that made it feel like breathing required effort instead of instinct, and she carried that weight with her throughout the day like it was just another part of her now. She went to sleep with the same pressure still there, curling around her heart.
She too stopped laughing.
For she had no one to make her laugh. And she had no one to talk to.
Her chosen family had moved on without her.
Neytiri was always busy now, tending to Laïloui with the same care she had once given her, braiding her hair with reverent fingers, smoothing her markings, offering gentle praise that used to make her chest feel warm and full. Jake spent his days training Neteyam, teaching him leadership and strategy and all the things that pulled him farther and farther away. Lo’ak chased his brother’s footsteps relentlessly, desperate to prove himself, while Kiri wandered deeper into Eywa’s pull, searching for her purpose.
She didn’t blame them. That was the worst part. She understood why they were busy, why their lives were full, why there wasn’t room for her softness anymore in a world that demanded strength.
Understanding didn’t make it hurt less—it just made the pain quieter, therefore heavier.
And some nights, when the weight in her chest pressed too hard to ignore, she wondered if this was what it felt like to lose something you were never destined to in the first place.
By the time the morning came, she had already come to the realisation that she was no welcome here.
Not in a dramatic way, but in the same way she had learned to accept everything else that hurt her—by letting the truth settle into her bones until it stopped fighting back. The clan was awake around her in small, distant sounds, the soft crackle of dying embers and the faint rustle of early movement, but no one was awake for her, and she realized with a dull ache that no one ever really was anymore.
She gathered her things slowly, folding what little she owned with gentle hands as if the objects themselves might break if she rushed, packing only what she could carry without strain, because she had learned long ago not to ask for help that wouldn’t come. She left behind anything that tied her too tightly to this place—small gifts, old trinkets, things that smelled like familiarity—because she knew if she took them, she might never make it past the treeline.
She didn’t look toward the Sullys’ home.
If she did, she knew she’d hesitate, and hesitation had never saved her before.
Her father’s absence still lingered like a wound that never closed properly, his death still too recent, still too raw, and her sweet mother lay sick at the loss of her mate.
She had watched Eywa take pieces of her life one by one, she had started to believe that maybe she was cursed, that maybe the world simply wasn’t meant to keep her for very long.
It would only be a matter of time before her mother was taken too.
She would be alone anyway.
So she chose to leave on her own terms, before anyone could make it official that she was now truly all alone, before she had to watch the last thread tying her to this place finally snap.
She slipped into the forest just as the sky began to lighten, the familiar paths already feeling foreign beneath her feet.
She walked until her legs ached and her chest burned, until the weight she had been carrying inside her finally spilled over in the form of exhausted tears she didn’t bother to wipe away. No one was there to see them. No one was there to stop her. No one was there at all.
And that, somehow, hurt the most.
She had spent her entire life being soft in a world that valued strength, kind in a place that respected sharp edges, gentle where others learned to harden, and now she understood what that had cost her.
She had been something people loved when it was convenient, when it was easy, when she asked for nothing—but the moment she needed a connection, protection, belonging, she had been quietly set aside.
Because staying had started to hurt more than leaving.
And as the village faded behind her, swallowed by trees and distance and indifference, she didn’t look back—not because she didn’t care, but because she cared too much, and if she let herself linger on what she was losing, she knew she would never survive what came next.
She didn’t realize how long she’d been walking until the forest began to change.
Morning had passed in a blur of movement and adrenaline, her body running on the fragile momentum of decision.
By afternoon, the ache had settled in.
Her legs burned and her throat felt tight, not from thirst alone but from the way her chest kept tightening every time she thought she heard something behind her. Still, she didn’t stop.
The forest grew denser as the daylight faded. And for the first time since she’d left, she felt something other than grief take hold.
Not the sharp, immediate kind that made you run, but the slow, creeping realization that she had made a mistake she didn’t know how to undo.
By the time night fell, it wrapped around her completely.
The forest after dark was nothing like the place she’d known her whole life, nothing like the gentle paths she’d walked with Neteyam and the others when laughter came easily and danger felt theoretical. At night, the trees loomed taller, the undergrowth thicker, shadows moving where they shouldn’t, and every sound felt amplified, closer than it should be.
She slowed, then stopped entirely, her breath shallow, and her ears straining as the memory hit her all at once.
Never go into the forest at night pumtsyìp
Neteyam’s voice lived in her head like it always had. His voice getting deeper everytime he said it to her as he had over his many years.
He had never raised his voice when he told her this; he never needed to. The seriousness alone had been enough to make her nod, to promise she wouldn’t, and to grip his arm for protection.
She hugged her arms around herself, her fingers digging into her skin like she could hold herself together through sheer will alone, and for the first time since she’d left, regret bloomed heavy and bitter in her chest.
She wished, stupidly, desperately, that he were there.
Not the future Olo’eyktan, not the warrior everyone admired, not the man who had learned to look past her like she didn’t exist anymore, but the boy who used to slow his steps so she could keep up, the one who had taught her fear so she would survive, the one who had always been there when the forest felt too big.
The night answered her thoughts with another sound—closer this time—and her body reacted before her mind did, heart racing, breath catching painfully as she realized just how exposed she was. She had no fire, no shelter, no plan beyond the one foot she kept forcing in front of the other, and the forest did not care about her heartbreak or her softness or the fact that she had nowhere else to go.
She sank down at the base of a tree eventually, exhaustion winning out over fear just enough to make her legs give, pressing her back against the bark as she curled in on herself, trying to make herself smaller.
And somewhere deep in the forest, there was something that was waiting to pluck up a little thing like her.
The sounds of claws and wild yips echo through the greenery, causing her to push herself impossibly closer to the tree as a lone tear left her eye.
By the sounds of it Neteyam knows it must be a small pack of aynantang [viperwolves]. They aren’t close, at least not yet. With her back turned and eyes blown out in silent terror he decides that now is as good time to interrupt.
Neteyam lowers himself down slowly, muscular arms controlling his descent into a movement so smooth and silent that it is nothing more than a shadow. A large hand covers your lips, the little puff of your beating heart pushing your chest out even more.
“What did I say.” Neteyam murmurs, his voice low and gravelly as he draws it out from his chest.
She gasps against his palm, breath stuttering violently as recognition slams into her, and when he eases his hand away just enough for her to breathe, she twists around so fast she nearly trips over herself. Her eyes find him immediately, blown wide and shining in the dim bioluminescent light, and for one humiliating, overwhelming moment, all she can do is stare at him like he’s something unreal.
“Teyam—” His name breaks in her throat,
and before she can stop herself she takes a step toward him, hands lifting like she needs to confirm he’s actually there.
His gaze flicks over her, sharp and assessing, taking in the few scrapes on her, the dirt streaking her calves, the way she’s shaking so hard from the cold that she can’t hide it, and his jaw tightens in a way she recognizes immediately.
He straightens slowly, his presence filling the space between them until she feels small without him even trying.
“Where were you going” he asks, his tone calm but she knew better based on the way it rumbled out of him.
Her mouth opens, then closes again as another sound carries through the trees, the unmistakable yip of aynantang echoing closely.
“Mawey” he says quietly. “Their bite isn’t as sharp as mine.”
She doesn’t know whether that’s meant to reassure her or scare her more, but either way it works, because her breath catches painfully and her fingers instinctively curl into the fabric at his side.
“I just thought—I thought no one would noti—” She blurts out in a whisper. Cutting herself off when shame came crashing down hard enough to make her stomach twist, and she swallows thickly before whispering, “How did you even find me?”
“I didn’t,” he says simply.
Before she can ask what he means a viperwolf prawls out of one of the nearby bushes, and instinct finally kicks in fully as she scrambles back a step, turning as if to run, but she doesn’t get far before Neteyam’s hand firmly snaps around her, pulling her back into his space with ease.
“They hunt in packs,” he tells her calmly, “They circle their prey until there’s nowhere left to go.”
The bushes shift again, and this time she freezes completely, her nails digging uselessly into his arm before she abandons the effort altogether and moves behind him instead, pressing herself against his back like instinct alone knows where she’s safest.
“My father was nearly killed by a pack once,” he continues,“Even in his avatar form, he only survived because a warrior found him.”
She’s shaking uncontrollably now, her face pressed into his mid back, breath hitching as the sounds grow louder. He almost feels bad for scaring you so much, tempted to bundle you in his arms and shush your worries away. However, that would ruin the lesson. You are the one that decided to run off carelessly into the woods without him and now you need to understand why you must depend on Neteyam for everything. Why you owe him your submission and affection.
"I wonder how you would do" he says as a shape slips through the brush ahead, then another, They creep forward with a hesitance at the sight of Neteyam, driven only by curiosity as your scent continues to fill the air. , and she lets out a broken sound she doesn’t even recognize as her own.
“Teyam,” she whimpers, fingers clutching desperately at his waist. “Please.”
“What’s wrong, pumtsyìp,” he asks softly, not turning around. “I thought you wanted to be free.”
A vicious snarl erupts from the side and she stumbles hard, barely managing to keep her feet as she presses herself against him again, her quiet scream muffled against his back.
He exhales slowly, as he tsks.
He coos at your little pleas. “Has someone changed their mind, hm?”
“Yes,” she chokes, “Please—please let’s go.”
The pack circles more confidently now, curiosity outweighing caution and periodically they flicker up to his looming form, as if checking to see whether or not he will be a threat against their newfound meal. It would be easy to scare them off, something Neteyam has done himself many times. He’s hunted these forests since he was a boy and his own scent is something that the creatures have learned to associate with danger.
“You ran,” he reminds her calmly. “You didn’t listen.”
“I know,” she sobs, clinging harder, her voice breaking completely now. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Her fingers tremble where they dig into his arm. “For leaving. For not listening to you. Please—just take me home.” Squeezing her eyes shut in fear as she curls herself into his back.
He catches her fragile chin firmly forcing her to look up at him, and whatever expression crosses his face causes her tears to finally fall from her eyes as a pout settles on her lips "I'm sorry" she sobs.
It is adorable to him to watch your natural submissive nature emerge. It reminds him of when Lo'ak would tease you and you would come crying to him even as a child, and even now. You still come crying to him.
“I know you are, pumtsyìp. You just get confused sometimes, don’t you?” No response is given, instead just a gasp as another creature inches closer and you dash into his arms. This time he wraps one arm around your small frame while the other goes for his sheathed knife. The advance pauses, aynantang [viperwolves] pacing from side to side instead. He lets out a low, warning hiss that cuts clean through the night causing the pack to whine then scatter off into the woods.
Your pleas flow now freely from your lips. Pleading, crying, and begging for him to get you out of harm's way. He simply shushes you, making no rush as a large arm tightens to pull you even closer. And Neteyam basks in the moment, a weight shifting off of his chest as he realises that you still long for and need his protection.
What a short memory you truly have. Perhaps if you listened to him more diligently like a good pumtsyìp should then you would already know that his protection has been yours all along-thus why he followed you here. Just like he follows and watches you in many places. He would defend you to his very last breath. Whether or not you asked for it would be irrelevant. That being said, you’ve always had the sweetest way of begging so who is he to deny himself such a pretty chorus of promises.
She doesn’t realize they’re gone until he tells her to breathe, and even then she doesn’t let go.
Neteyam lifts her without effort, her arms and legs instinctively wrapping around him as he carries her away.
Although, he is determined to finally corrupt you tonight, he still kept in mind that you didn't understand sexual acts. But that just fueled his desire even more. Though a part of him wonders if you still blindly trust him like you used you-a part of him knew that your curiosity outweighs your fear.
He needed you to find comfort and protection in him again. And though he admits that he fucked up by ignoring you these past few months-he has also come to realise that he has sacrificed everything he is to become Olo'eyktan. He has surrendered everything and allowed the clan to take and chose everything for him. But you-you were the one thing that he would give up his title for.
And he would be damned if you thought otherwise, so tonight he would make it up to you.
And you would understand that you are his to protect.
However, there is still one more way he can lock you into his life. One permanent reminder that would forever keep you shackled to him. An action that would have your scent intertwined with his so much so that it wouldn’t matter if it took. Pregnant or not the message would be clear. The confines of his loincloth feel suffocating at the thought. Would your tiny warmth even be able to hold half of his seed? What a pretty treat it would be to see it spilling out from your perfectly pink and tight hole.
Once back in the safety of his kelku [home/house] you are smart enough to not flee from his lap. He manhandles one leg to be thrown to the other side so you are properly straddling him. A sense of shyness must fall over you because you are silent while nervously fiddling with the feathers of his traditional attire.
Neteyam is unbothered by it, instead using it as an opportunity to let his hands explore. Not in a sexual way at first, just simple brushes that are sure to have you melting for him.
“Now you understand why you must stay by my side. Don’t you pumtsyìp?” Voice as gentle as the hands that run up the back of your neck, he can feel goosebumps rise in its wake. Eyes still fixated on the feathers, you nod shakily. If it wasn’t so cute he would be tempted to reprimand you for such a half hearted response but it appears luck is in your favor.
His knuckles paint a trail up the back of your neck before swiping over your left shoulder. His other hand softly gathers your hair to the other side so your skin is bared for him. He thumbs at the side of your throat, feeling your pulse flicker beneath his fingers.
“Such a naive, pretty thing like you is not safe out there.” His hands bracket either side of your face, large enough to span the entirety of your head and tilt it upwards. It gives him the perfect view of your expression when both hands smooth up towards your hairline before parting and dragging along your scalp. Lips parted and eyes fluttered closed, he knows he has pressed the right button.
“Creatures eager to snatch you up.” Neteyam draws out, nails ever so gently scratching along your roots. The shiver that races through your body is powerful enough to be visual. Massaging at the area in long strokes proves to have you breaking into pieces. Body practically limp against him, the Olo’eyktan watches with glee.
He always knew you were too soft for this world, all it takes to disarm you is some well placed pets.
“And they’d be successful too,” The tips of his fingers come together to circle your long hair into a ponytail. A small sound exhales from your lips, leaning into his touch without resolve. “Have you between their teeth before you could even scream.” That dark tone washes over you in a way so contrary to the warning message, his lips mere centimeters away from your own.
One little kiss, more of a peck really. That is all you get. Just enough to have you chasing after him, a motion that is hard to do when he has you anchored by the root of your hair.
“And that,” Another soft peck to your cheek, “is why you are so lucky to have me.” Neteyam allows his lips to linger longer this time but it’s still just as soft,
“Yes Teyam.” You puff, the softest whisper as you try to learn forward for more. He tutts in disapproval, a slow but firm yank to your hair following. “Y-yes sir.” You correct yourself with a squeak and much to his delight, the fragrance from between your thighs intensifies. He’s tempted to look now and see if it has left a spot on his loincloth.
And he was so so delighted to see that you still give him the authority that him and lo'ak give to his father. You always made him felt like more than he is. You gave him respect long before he was near the title of Olo'eyktan.
“There’s ma good girl.” He purrs.
His lips hovered near her ear, his breath scalding against her skin.
"You didn’t think I had truly abandoned you, did you?"
She let out a small exhale as she tilts her head down, remembering how betrayed and confused she felt.
"I never left you pumtsyìp. I was with you every day. They gave me a mate before I could chose the one I wanted. I was waiting for the right time but I'm done waiting now."
"...I wish you and Laïloui all the best" she whispers as she lifts her leg to get off of him, only to have him grip her thigh and plant it back down.
"Laïloui is not the one I want."
"Laïloui is no longer here"
Her eyebrows furrowed as she took in his words.
"I needed time to get rid of her, Mawey. That is the only reason I stopped talking to you"
"Rid of her?" She draws out slowly trying to understand what he means by that.
Neteyam tilts his head to the side in satisfaction at the memory of him shoving Laïloui off the cliff right before binding their kuru. It was a wonderful plan really-the Sully family would break their attachment to you so that Laïloui wouldn't retaliate. To keep her in an illusion that they cared for her. To make her trust them. And to draw her attention away from the one that they truly do care about-you. The clan had already chosen Laïloui before Neteyam had gotten the chance to ask you to be his mate-he had been planning it since he was 18 but Jake ensured him that it was best to wait until he was older and the title of Olo'eyktan was in arms reach. So as a result of guilt for ruining his son's lifelong plan. The sullys joined together to help craft this plan. And thus resulting in Laïloui's "disappearance". And with Neteyam’s assertance of dominance by going against the clan's orders and mating with you-that would be the final act of preparation and he would at last be given the title of Olo'eyktan.
He just needed Laïloui out of his way for good. And he needed you to not be seen as a threat in the meantime to keep you safe.
"Don’t worry your little head about that pumtsyìp."
"You should go be with your chosen then Net-"
She barely processed his words before his teeth grazed her earlobe, biting down on it before bringing it into his mouth to suckle on.
“You don’t get to decide my future for me.”
And Eywa knows that was worse than anything he could've said.
His grip tightened in her hair, tugging at it to force her face up to meet his eyes. He leaned back just enough to look at her properly, his golden eyes darkening, as his jaw tightened.
“Say that again,” he said quietly.
“I said,” he cut in, his voice growing impossibly deeper, “say it again.”
Her heart thudded painfully. “You don’t get to decide my future.” She replied meekly, casting her eyes down as shyness crept over her body.
A slow breath through his nose.
Then a low, humorless laugh.
“Decide?” he echoed. “No, pumtsyìp. I don't need to decide anything. I just need to remind you.”
He leaned in, foreheads touching, voice dropping into her mind like poison wrapped in honey.
“Who was there when you were alone.”
“Who taught you how to walk these forests, how to hunt, how to climb trees, how to swim.”
“Who made sure no one touched you, no one claimed you, no one took what was always meant to be mine.”
Her lips parted. “You don’t know wh—”
“I know everything,” he snapped, suddenly fierce, eyes blazing. “I know every man who looked at you too long. Every whisper behind your back. Every risk that vanished before it ever reached you.”
Her pulse spiked. “But you ignored me.”
His hand slid up, fingers curling under her chin—not forcing, just guiding until she had no choice but to meet his gaze.
“Yes,” he admitted without shame. “I had to Mawey. But not for one second did I want to. I had chosen you long ago...but I just wanted to be worthy enough for you to chose me too...I was waiting for my title. But the clan chose before I could. And I had to let Laïloui think I chose her to keep you safe. Because the moment the she realized how much I wanted you—how much I need you—I would have gotten rid of her in public.”
His voice lowered, as he cradled her small face in his large palm.
“And now I’m Olo’eyktan,” he said. “No one can tell me no.”
Her breath hitched. “You’re scaring me.”
His lips curved into a smirk as he squeezed her cheeks together.
"I need you to help me get my title Mawey. I need a mate. And I will not chose one that is not you. The future of our clan rests in your hands."
“I said you’re scaring me net-"
“You’re scared because no matter how much you fight it,” he whispered, “you were never going to be anyone else’s.”
Elaila let out a soft, involuntary sound, her fingers clutching at the fabric of his robe as his mouth found her ear again.
His hands explored further, mapping every curve of her body as he tilted her head back with a firm tug to her hair, exposing the fragile line of her throat.
"You'll chose me right?" he murmured, leaving open-mouthed kisses to her throat, the sloppy sounds of the action filling the chamber as he smacked his lips against the skin there before letting his spit drool down her neck just to slurp it up again. "For the sake of your Olo'eyktan."
She barely had time to catch her breath before his teeth sank into her skin to place a claiming bite.
She gasped, her fingers digging into his chest, but he didn’t relent. His tongue flicked over the mark, soothing, then biting again, harder.
"You taste divine," he rasped against her throat.
"May you please move your knife," she replies as she wiggles slightly in her attempt to sit straighter. The movement presses her body further against me
"Fuck" he whisper under his breath. "Not a knife,"
"Keep squirming and you'll find out"
The hand on her face tilted her head slightly, guiding her gaze to his.
When his lips finally met hers, it was soft at first, but that quickly changed as each kiss became deeper and wetter.
His lips moved against hers with a desperate hunger as a low, growl of satisfaction rumbled in his throat.
When his tongue brushed against the seam of her lips, she parted for him, and he took it as an invitation, his tongue slipping past to lick up her very essence, as his tongue moved against hers in deliberate strokes, coaxing her to meet him, to match his intensity.
The sound of their kiss filled his kelku, soft and wet, mingling with the faint hitch of her breath and the steady growl that vibrated in his chest. Saliva slicked their lips, adding a slight sheen to the movements, their mouths sliding together with a fervor that bordered on desperation.
He tilted his head to deepen the angle, his teeth grazing her lower lip before sucking it gently, a flick of his tongue soothing the sting. His hand shifted, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling just enough to expose her to him fully. The kiss grew sloppier, more urgent, as though he couldn't get enough, couldn't pull her close enough to satisfy the ache inside him.
Her hands pressed lightly against his chest, a feeble attempt to put space between them, but he only responded by tightening his grip. His fingers tangled deeper in her hair, tilting her head back as his lips chased hers, refusing to let her go.
"More," he murmured, his voice rough, breathless, lips brushing against hers as he spoke. "More."
He pleaded as his hand slid to her waist, fingers pressing into her skin as he pulled her flush against him, swallowing the shaky breath she let out.
When they finally pulled apart, threads of saliva connected their lips, breaking only when he leaned back to look at her, his eyes dark with unrestrained desire. Her lips were swollen, glistening, and he stared at them as though already planning the next kiss.
"I'm scared...and confused" she admitted, her soft voice contrasting against his deep one as she kept her eyes strained to the floor.
His other hand came up, rough fingertips tracing along her soft jaw before tilting her face up to his.
"I know Pumtsyìp...I know" he answered lowly as his large hands that layed on her waist gently swayed her side to side.
"Open for me," he growled against her lips as he dived back into the kiss.
Neteyam pressed himself against her wetness with no pretense of restraint. The hard, unmistakable evidence of his arousal grinding against her core.
“Do you feel that?” he snarled against her lips. “This is what you do to me"
Suddenly, he placed her on the wall next to him and dropped to his knees, but he didn’t just do that, he yanked her thighs apart with brutal force, making her momentarily stumble back to grab the wall.
He pulled her hips forward until she was perched right on the edge of his mouth, her back arching instinctively to keep balance.
The sight of him there, his broad, muscular shoulders between her trembling legs made her breath hitch.
Without hesitation, he bent forward, his mouth descending on the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. His lips latched onto her soft skin, his tongue dragging over the delicate curve before his teeth sank in just enough to leave a mark. The sharp sting made her gasp, her fingers clutching at his shoulders, but he didn’t relent. His mouth moved upward, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses, saliva smearing her skin as he worked his way closer to her center.
"What are you doin-?" She gasped as she tried to gently push him away by his shoulder, which obviously failed...
Once he finally reached there, he bared his teeth and clutched it onto her loincloth, and slowly dragged it down. He took a deep breath as he took in the sight of her wet, dripping pussy, all pure and ready for him to claim.
He latched onto her, his tongue pushed between her folds as he dragged it through her arousal, his face burying into her, making her cry out and gasp. The wet slurp of his mouth filled the air as he devoured her, sucking and licking without restraint. His nose pressed against her, his jaw moving with relentless fervor as his saliva mixed with her arousal, dripping down his face and onto his hands, which were still gripping her thighs like a vice.
"Y-ou can't do that, that's dirty!" She squeeled in potest, only to have his tongue circled her clit in response, alternating between flicking it in quick, teasing strokes and pressing flat, broad strokes that left her trembling. He groaned against her, before shaking his face against her wetness making her hand instinctively shoot out to grip his hair as she took a step back, trying to move away from his overwhelming touches, his jaw was slick with her as he pulled back a string of her juices connected his mouth to her core.
“Stay still,” he growled, pulling back
His hands shifted, sliding down to grab her hips and yank her even closer to his face, making her yelp and grab onto his jaw for balance. One hand slid lower, gripping her ass roughly as the other shoved her leg over his huge shoulder, locking her in place. The angle left her completely open to him, and he took advantage, his tongue plunging into her with a ferocity that made her moans bounce off of the walls.
Neteyam growled in satisfaction "Atta girl", the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through her. His lips wrapped around her sensitive bundle of nerves, his teeth grazing it lightly before his tongue swept over it in fast, messy circles. He sucked hard, his mouth wet and sloppy as he alternated between rough suction and flicking his tongue in maddeningly erratic patterns. Saliva coated her, smeared across her thighs and dripping down to the stone floor as he growled against her.
“Neteyam" she gasped, her hands tangling in his hair, trying to push him away when the pleasure became too much. But he was relentless, snarling against her as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to her sides with a single hand.
He pulled her closer, pressing his face against her harder, his tongue diving deep as his nose pressed against her swollen bud. The wet, sloppy sounds of his mouth echoed in the kelku, louder with every desperate flick of his tongue and every rough suck of his lips. His free hand slipped lower, two fingers thrusting into her without warning, making her yelp out and whimper as he stretcher her as he worked them in time with his mouth.
“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding as he pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his lips slick and swollen. “Look at me while I make you mine.”
Her big, innocent doe eyes locked with his cold, stoic glare, and the sight sent a shiver down her spine. His eyes were feral, dark and wild with possession, his jaw and braids glistening with her arousal.
"I-I'm going to pee get off"
She gasped as she tried to close her legs.
But Neteyam dragged his tongue darted out to lick his lips, as he held her gaze.
Then he was on her again, his mouth rougher, sloppier, hungrier than before making her throw her head back in ecstasy as she grinded her hips, sensually rubbing her core against his mouth in desperation.
Not long after, the coil in her belly snapped, her release crashing through her with violent intensity as her cries filled the air. Her legs shook, her body arching, her fingers tugging roughly at his hair as waves of pleasure overwhelmed her, but Neteyam didn’t stop. If anything, her climax only spurred him on, his tongue and fingers working her mercilessly as he coaxed another release from her overstimulated body.
Her second orgasm ripped through her, her thighs clamping around his head, trying to stop him from continuing as she screamed his name. He growled, prying her legs apart with a brutal force, and he didn’t stop until her knees buckled and she was gasping for breath, her body utterly spent and slick with sweat.
When he finally pulled back, his chest was heaving, his lips and jaw a glistening mess. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, before licking off the essence that trailed on it.
"If you ever try to hide your moans from me again, I'll fuck you by the fire where everyone will hear how good I make you feel,” he growled into her ear.
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