I Cannot Draw Him Without Him Looking Mad As Hell It's So Funny

do people have no shame anymore?

I stumbled upon a website that allows you to blend any colors evenly no matter how opposite on the spectrum they are.

sharing the knowledge

very helpful art resource

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

sketch, teaser

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

finished version

infuriatingly infuriating

neteyam sully x metkayina! reader

synopsis the olo’eyktan’s oldest daughter finds herself falling for toruk makto’s infuriatingly charming eldest son.

warnings no use of y/n.

word count 4.4k

it has been a few months since the sully family arrived in awa’atlu, seeking uturu. they learned the ways of your people quickly—perhaps faster than you expected.

when your father tasked you and your siblings with helping them adjust, you knew it would be no small effort.

your younger brother had been less than thrilled at first, grumbling about having to teach the forest people how to survive in the water. but in time, he grew accustomed to it.

tsireya, of course, had no complaints. if anything, she was too eager to help—though it was obvious why. she had taken quite the liking to the younger sully brother.

as for you? you didn’t mind them much. you treated them with respect and did your duty, teaching them as best you could.

but neteyam—the eldest sully—was the biggest pain in your tail.

at first, he had been quiet, reserved. almost too respectful. he treated you as if you were someone of great authority, so much so that you had to remind him once that you were not his superior.

oh, great mother, how you regret that now.

it was as if those words alone had shattered whatever restraint he had. now, neteyam refused to leave you alone. he took every opportunity to tease you, to pester you about anything and everything.

he was worse than your brothers. far worse.

for someone who carried himself as a mighty warrior, he certainly didn’t act like one. if he wasn’t showing off—casually proving that he could master every skill thrown his way—he was using that demon language of his, throwing strange words at you just to see your reaction.

and eywa, did he love your reactions.

those large, crystal-blue eyes of yours would widen in pure, utter confusion every time he spoke in that strange demon language. and that was exactly what he wanted.

he would grin—sharp and full of mischief—watching the way your brows furrowed, the way your lips parted slightly as if trying to make sense of the foreign words. then, just when you thought he might take pity on you and explain himself, he would simply shake his head.

“what?” you’d snap, frustrated beyond belief. “what does that mean?”

but neteyam would only tilt his head, feigning innocence. “nga kea nari si, yawntu?”

your tail flicked sharply behind you. “neteyam.”

nothing. just that insufferable smirk.

you hated it. hated how he refused to explain himself, as if he hadn’t just spoken an entirely different language to you. as if he hadn’t just left you standing there, trying to piece together something you had no hope of understanding.

infuriating.

and yet, every time, you found yourself waiting for the next time he’d do it again.

it was infuriating.

whenever the two of you were together—whether by chance or because your father had paired you up for some task—he would do the work, yes. but not without making your life miserable in the process.

today was no different.

your mother had asked you to fetch more shells for her, a simple enough task. yet, of course, neteyam had seen you leaving and, for reasons only eywa knew, decided to follow.

“you do not need help collecting shells,” he had said, trailing behind you like an overgrown ilu.

“and yet here you are,” you muttered, sifting through the sand near the shore, determined to ignore him.

neteyam crouched beside you, hands resting on his knees as he watched you work. he was silent for a moment—too silent. that was never a good sign.

“you know,” he finally mused, “where i’m from, we don’t waste time collecting pretty things from the sand.”

you exhaled sharply through your nose, refusing to rise to the bait. “we do not waste time,” you corrected. “the shells are used for many things.”

“oh, of course,” he said easily. “necklaces. bracelets. decorations.”

your ears flicked in annoyance. “and medicine, neteyam. and tools. and trade.”

he hummed as if considering your words, then leaned forward, plucking a shell from the pile you had already gathered. “this one,” he said, holding it up, “definitely just for decoration.”

you snatched it from his grasp, shooting him a glare. “why are you here?”

he grinned. “what, and miss a chance to spend time with my favorite metkayina?”

you scoffed, turning back to your task. “go bother someone else.”

“i would,” he admitted, stretching out lazily beside you, “but no one else makes such great faces when i talk.”

your hands froze for a moment before tightening into fists.

infuriating. absolutely infuriating.

rolling your eyes, you ignored him, focusing instead on plucking shells from the sand.

and then he did it again.

that strange, foreign tongue slipping past his lips—smooth, effortless, knowing damn well you wouldn’t understand.

“these shells are just as beautiful as you,” he said, voice teasing yet undeniably soft.

you froze, fingers curling around the shell in your hand as you turned to him, eyes narrowing.

“what did you just say?”

neteyam only smiled. that smug, infuriating smile. “nothing.”

your tail flicked sharply behind you. “no,” you pressed, shifting to face him fully. “you said something. say it again.”

he tilted his head, as if considering it. then, with a maddening slowness, he shrugged. “i don’t think so.”

you hated this game. hated that he knew how much it drove you mad.

still, you tried to piece it together, running the words over in your mind, searching for meaning. but you had no hope of understanding. it was a language that didn’t belong to you—a secret only he held.

your lips pressed into a thin line. “you could be insulting me for all i know.”

neteyam chuckled, leaning back on his hands, his golden eyes warm with amusement. “you think so little of me, sevin?”

you huffed, turning back to your task, determined not to let him win. “one of these days, i will find out what you are saying,” you muttered.

he grinned. “i look forward to it.”

and you were determined.

later, when your mother and father weren’t demanding anything from you, you set out to find the younger sully brother.

lo’ak was more open than neteyam—more willing. he didn’t hold himself with the same strict discipline as his older brother, and you knew he was always eager to prove himself. perfect.

you found him near the village edge, sharpening his knife, tail lazily flicking behind him. he looked up as you approached, ears twitching with curiosity.

“what do you want?” he asked, though there was no real bite to his words.

you crouched beside him, tilting your head. “i want to learn your demon language.”

lo’ak blinked. “you mean english?”

you scowled. “demon language,” you repeated. “the one you and your brother use.”

lo’ak snorted. “right. and why would i teach you?”

you smirked. “because you like my sister.”

lo’ak stiffened. “i—what? no, i—”

you raised a non-existent brow, waiting.

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “that’s so unfair.”

you only shrugged. “i do not make the rules.”

lo’ak huffed but gave in easily enough. “fine,” he muttered. “what do you want to know?”

you leaned forward, eager. “start with this—what does neteyam keep saying to me?”

lo’ak knew exactly what was going on.

he had seen the way neteyam looked at you—watched how his usually disciplined, ever-perfect brother turned into a teasing, insufferable menace whenever you were around. neteyam was completely, hopelessly infatuated with you.

and now, here you were, looking at him for answers.

lo’ak smirked to himself. oh, this is too good.

he had two choices: he could lie, protect his brother’s pride, and let this little game of theirs continue.

or

he could tell you the truth and sit back to watch the chaos unfold.

really, there was only one correct option.

feigning nonchalance, he leaned back on his hands, pretending to think. “well,” he started slowly, drawing it out just to watch you grow impatient. “neteyam’s been saying some… interesting things.”

your eyes narrowed. “like what?”

lo’ak bit back a grin. oh, this was going to be fun. so fun for him.

because as he went on, explaining the things he had heard neteyam say to you in english, you listened intently, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind you.

what you didn’t see was neteyam moving through the village, searching for you. he had grown used to your presence—enjoyed bothering you whenever he could—so when he hadn’t seen you for a while, he decided to track you down.

and then he spotted you, with lo’ak.

the way his brother was smirking, looking like a complete menace, was a dead giveaway. neteyam didn’t even need to hear the conversation to know exactly what was happening.

his stomach dropped.

lo’ak was telling you.

his body tensed, tail flicking in irritation. oh, that little skxawng—

you still didn’t notice him. too focused on lo’ak, your arms crossed, head tilting as you listened. and lo’ak? oh, he was relishing this.

neteyam clenched his jaw. he had two options: stop this right now before you learned too much, or let it happen and deal with the consequences.

yeah, like hell he was choosing the second one.

so, before lo’ak could dig his grave any deeper, neteyam stormed over.

by the time neteyam stormed over, the damage had already been done. lo’ak had fully dug his grave—and he was lying in it with a big, shit-eating grin.

you turned at the sound of heavy footsteps, just in time to see neteyam approaching, his expression unreadable. his jaw was tight, ears pinned back, golden eyes locked onto his younger brother with something between fury and panic.

lo’ak just sat there, far too pleased with himself. “oh, hey, brother,” he said, voice dripping with fake innocence. “we were just talking about you.”

your gaze flickered between them, realization dawning. neteyam knew. he knew exactly what had just happened.

and judging by the way his tail lashed behind him, he was not happy about it.

you turned back to lo’ak. “so,” you said, tilting your head, “you’re telling me neteyam has been calling me beautiful this whole time?”

neteyam inhaled sharply. “lo’ak—”

“oh, yeah,” lo’ak cut in, completely ignoring him. “that and, you know, pretty much everything else a man says when he’s in love with someone.”

silence.

your lips parted slightly, but no words came. neteyam looked like he was about to die on the spot.

and lo’ak? well, lo’ak just grinned and clapped a hand on neteyam’s shoulder.

“good luck, bro,” he said before slipping away, leaving you both standing there—one of you in utter shock, the other in complete, soul-crushing regret.

neteyam stared at you, tense, waiting—trying to gauge your reaction.

you didn’t look at him at first, eyes fixed on the sand, lips caught between your fangs as if deep in thought. his heart pounded in his chest, breath held as he braced himself for whatever was coming.

then, slowly, the corners of your lips curled.

the biggest, most teasing smile stretched across your face as you finally lifted your gaze to meet his.

“oh,” you said, drawing the word out, tail flicking behind you. “so that’s what you’ve been saying this whole time?”

neteyam groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “lo’ak is dead.”

you laughed, the sound light and full of way too much enjoyment. “no wonder you never translated. what was it you said earlier?” you tapped your chin, pretending to think. “oh, yes—‘these shells are just as beautiful as you.’”

his ears flattened. “you don’t have to—”

“but i am beautiful, aren’t i?” you interrupted, tilting your head. “since you’ve been saying it so often.”

neteyam clenched his jaw, exhaling through his nose. he could not believe this was happening.

you leaned in slightly, eyes shining with mischief. “tell me, mighty warrior—what else have you been calling me?”

he groaned again, feeling his entire body heat up. this was not how he wanted you to find out.

but when he looked at you—truly looked at you, all teasing and bright-eyed, wearing that smile that made his stomach flip—he knew, deep down, that lo’ak had only sped up the inevitable.

so, with a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders and met your gaze.

“do you really want to know?” he asked, voice lower now, steadier.

your teasing smirk faltered just slightly. “…yes.”

neteyam took a step closer, eyes locked onto yours.

“yawntu,” he murmured, watching as your brows furrowed. “seysonì.”

you blinked, lips parting, the teasing edge in your expression flickering with something softer.

then he leaned in, voice just above a whisper.

“my love.”

your breath hitched.

for the first time since this little game between you had started, you found yourself at a loss for words.

your eyes flickered down to his lips for just a second—quick, barely noticeable, but he noticed. of course he did. neteyam was always watching, always reading you like an open scroll.

his ears twitched, tail giving the smallest flick as he took another step closer. close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, close enough that the teasing atmosphere between you had shifted into something else. something heavier.

“you’re quiet,” he murmured, voice laced with amusement. “that’s new.”

you swallowed, trying to regain some sense of control. “shut up,” you muttered, but the usual bite in your words was missing.

neteyam smirked. he knew he had you now.

slowly, deliberately, he lifted a hand, fingers brushing against the shell still clutched in your grasp. his touch was light—barely there—but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“you never did tell me,” he mused, golden eyes locked onto yours. “do you think i’m beautiful too?”

your heart pounded against your ribs. that smug skxawng. he was throwing your own words back at you.

but two could play this game.

tilting your chin up, you gave him a slow, knowing smile. “wouldn’t you like to know?”

then, before he could get the last word in, you turned on your heel, leaving him standing there—stunned, frustrated, and entirely hooked.

you left him standing there, smug and victorious, but your heart was still pounding.

by the time you returned home, you needed to find your sister.

because these forsaken sully brothers had somehow woven their way into both of your hearts.

you found tsireya near the woven mats of your family’s marui, carefully threading beads onto a new piece of jewelry. she looked up as you entered, a soft smile on her lips—one that quickly turned into curiosity when she saw the look on your face.

“you look…” she tilted her head, studying you. “different.”

you scoffed, flopping down beside her. “frustrated.”

tsireya’s brows lifted. “ah. neteyam?”

you groaned, rubbing your temples. “always.”

her soft laugh rang through the marui, and for a moment, you let yourself relax. but then you narrowed your eyes, gaze flickering to the necklace she was working on.

“let me guess,” you said, nodding toward it. “for lo’ak?”

tsireya hesitated—just for a moment—before a faint blush dusted her cheeks.

you gaped at her. “oh, eywa.”

“it is not—”

“you’re making him jewelry?”

“he—he appreciates our traditions!” she defended, though the flustered look on her face betrayed her.

you stared at her for a long moment before shaking your head. “we’re doomed,” you muttered, flopping onto your back. “the sully brothers have ruined us.”

tsireya only giggled, threading another bead onto the string. “maybe.” then, she cast you a knowing look. “but you don’t seem to mind.”

you groaned, covering your face with your hands. because, deep down, you didn’t. not one bit.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep orange and violet, your village buzzed with excitement. the salty breeze carried the scent of roasting fish and sweet fruits, mingling with the rhythmic sounds of drums echoing across the shoreline.

tonight was a night of festivities—a celebration of unity, of eywa’s blessings, of all that made your people strong. and, as the daughter of the olo’eyktan, it was one of those things you had to attend.

you stood near your family’s marui, adjusting the beaded adornments woven into your hair as your mother fussed over your attire. ronal was ever the perfectionist, making sure you looked every bit the part of a leader’s daughter.

“you must be present,” she reminded you, hands steady as she adjusted the woven top covering your chest. “engage with the people. show them your strength.”

you held back a sigh. “yes, sa’nok.”

beside you, tsireya giggled under her breath. she, of course, loved these gatherings. but you? you found them tiring, always forced to play the part of the dutiful daughter—composed, graceful, responsible.

still, you knew your role. you straightened your shoulders, casting one last glance at the glowing horizon before following your family toward the center of the village.

the festival was already in full swing when you arrived, torches casting golden light over the gathering crowd. children wove between the adults, laughter ringing through the air as dancers moved to the steady beat of the drums.

your attire was more ethereal than usual—custom-made loincloths adorned with the prettiest shells and beads, catching the firelight with every movement, making you shine. the woven top your mother had chosen was delicate yet intricate, the beading cascading down your torso like water, reflecting the hues of the ocean. you looked every bit the daughter of the olo’eyktan, and though you wouldn’t admit it aloud, the way eyes followed you as you walked made you feel powerful.

you had done your duties—exchanged pleasantries, greeted those who needed to be greeted, smiled when necessary, when you suddenly felt a presence.

a familiar presence.

you didn’t have to look to know who it was. you felt his eyes on you before you even spotted him across the crowd.

neteyam.

he was standing with his family, expression unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—something intentional.

your heart gave an annoyingly noticeable thump.

and you just knew, this night was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

your father had given his speech, his voice commanding as he spoke of unity, of eywa’s blessings, of the strength of the metkayina. you were just settling into your place beside tsireya when you felt it. the people cheered, the drums picked up, and just like that, the festivities truly began.

which meant you were finally free.

you exhaled, the weight of expectation lifting as you slipped through the crowd, seeking a moment to just be. the village was alive with celebration—dancers twirling near the fire, warriors boasting about their latest hunts, children giggling as they weaved through the legs of their elders. it was beautiful, vibrant, home.

you found yourself near the shoreline, where the glow of the lanterns met the shimmering tide, your toes sinking into the cool sand. the festivities carried on behind you, but for a moment, you allowed yourself to take it all in—the crashing of the waves, the salt in the air, the hum of music in the background.

and then, of course, he appeared.

“you clean up nice.”

the deep voice sent a shiver down your spine, one you quickly masked by rolling your eyes before turning to face him.

neteyam stood a few paces away, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. his own attire was different tonight—his usual warrior gear swapped for something more ceremonial, beads woven into his braids, the soft glow of bioluminescent paint marking his skin.

he looked… good.

not that you’d tell him that.

“you again?” you sighed dramatically, placing a hand on your hip. “is there nowhere i can go without you appearing like a shadow?”

neteyam chuckled, stepping closer. “if you wanted to be alone, you wouldn’t have come here.”

you scoffed, though you didn’t move away as he reached your side, standing beside you as the waves lapped at your feet.

a beat of silence passed before he tilted his head slightly, golden eyes scanning your face.

“you really do look beautiful tonight.”

it wasn’t teasing this time. no smug grin, no playful lilt to his voice. just a quiet truth, spoken into the space between you.

and for the first time tonight, you had no clever response.

back at the heart of the festivities, away from the shoreline where you and neteyam stood, two warriors—two leaders—watched.

tonowari and jake stood side by side, their conversation casual, yet their eyes keenly observant. they had been discussing the ongoing training of the young hunters, the state of the tides, and other matters of importance. but, at some point, their attention had drifted.

to you and neteyam.

because, despite whatever you and neteyam thought, you were not subtle.

jake exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he watched his eldest son step closer to you, the way his body naturally leaned toward yours, the way you—despite your best efforts—didn’t pull away.

“they think they’re being discreet,” jake muttered.

tonowari hummed in agreement, arms crossed over his broad chest. “they are not.”

jake sighed. “he’s got it bad.”

tonowari’s lips twitched slightly, amusement flickering in his sharp eyes. “as does she.”

jake glanced at him, smirking. “that a problem?”

tonowari was quiet for a moment, watching as you shoved neteyam’s shoulder, only for the boy to grin and lean right back into your space.

“…no,” the olo’eyktan finally said. “not yet.”

jake chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “good luck with that, brother.”

tonowari just sighed, already bracing himself for the storm that was sure to come.

back with you and neteyam, the air was thick.

the kind of thick that made your skin feel too warm, your chest too tight. the kind of thick that had your heart pounding a little faster than it should, your breath catching at the way his golden eyes burned into yours.

the tension could have been cut with a knife.

but the question was—who was going to make the first move?

neteyam was watching you closely now, that cocky smirk long gone. his lips were slightly parted, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths, though you could tell—you could tell—that he was feeling it too. that same charged, unspoken pull that neither of you were willing to put words to.

for once, he wasn’t teasing.

for once, you were the one trying to look anywhere but at him.

“you’re quiet again,” he murmured, voice lower now, softer.

your fingers curled into your palms. “you talk enough for both of us.”

neteyam chuckled, but it was breathier than usual, as if even he wasn’t fully present in the words. his gaze flickered down for a split second—to your lips, just for a moment—but it was enough.

your stomach flipped.

you swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of everything. the way the firelight flickered over his skin. the way his braids shifted as he tilted his head. the way his hands flexed at his sides, like he was debating something.

your tail twitched. was he going to do it? was he going to be the one to break first?

neteyam shifted slightly, leaning in just a fraction—so small, so subtle, but you caught it.

and eywa help you, you didn’t move away.

maybe you should’ve. maybe you should have smirked, teased him, run before he could turn this whole thing into something real.

but you didn’t.

instead, you just stared at him, pulse racing, waiting to see if this would be the moment one of you finally gave in.

just as your lips were about to touch—just as you felt the faintest graze of them, the smallest, feather-light brush—

a loud, booming clearing of a throat shattered the moment.

you jerked away so fast you nearly lost your footing, and neteyam—mighty warrior, future olo’eyktan—practically jumped back as if you had burned him.

that was how deep the two of you had been in your own little world.

heart hammering against your ribs, you turned, already knowing what you’d find. and, sure enough—

there stood tonowari.

and beside him, looking far too amused for his own good, was jake sully.

oh, eywa.

your father’s arms were crossed, expression unreadable, but the sheer weight of his stare was enough to make you wish the ocean would just swallow you whole.

jake, on the other hand, had the audacity to smirk, glancing between you and neteyam like this was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all night.

neteyam straightened immediately, shoulders squared, but you knew him too well. knew that beneath that carefully composed expression, he was panicking.

“neteyam.” jake’s voice was easygoing, but the warning beneath it was clear.

“sir.” neteyam’s response was stiff, formal, and oh eywa, you had to fight the urge to laugh at how utterly caught he looked.

tonowari said nothing at first—just looked at you, then at neteyam, then back at you. and somehow, somehow, that was worse than if he’d yelled.

“i see you are both enjoying the festivities,” he finally said, voice far too calm.

you swallowed. “yes, sa’nok’itan,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice even, though you swore you saw the corner of jake’s mouth twitch.

neteyam, to his credit, didn’t flinch. but the tips of his ears were burning red. “we were just—”

“i am sure you were,” tonowari cut in smoothly.

and that? that was when you knew you were done for.

you dared a glance at neteyam, but he refused to meet your gaze, jaw clenched so tight you thought his teeth might crack.

jake clapped a firm hand on his son’s shoulder, barely containing his grin. “why don’t we let them enjoy the rest of the festivities?” he said, clearly enjoying this way too much.

tonowari exhaled through his nose, giving you one last long look before nodding. “come,” he said, turning to leave. “we will speak later.”

you felt your stomach drop.

and then, just like that, they were gone, leaving you and neteyam standing there—mortified, frustrated, and one second away from kissing.

for a long moment, neither of you spoke.

then—

“…so,” neteyam muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “that was—”

“do not.” you cut him off, voice tight, because if you thought about it for one more second, you were going to combust.

neteyam exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand down his face before finally—finally—meeting your gaze.

and despite everything, despite the sheer embarrassment of it all—

he smirked.

“next time,” he murmured, stepping just close enough to send a shiver down your spine, “we pick a better spot.”

your jaw dropped. “neteyam!”

but he was already walking away, laughing, leaving you standing there, flustered and fuming, knowing damn well he’d just won.

big alien dilf 👁👄👁💦

Twins, both versions now available

doodle ⚔️

10 min «Spider as a Knight» doodle

got inspiration from @dirtytransmasc post 🖤

maybe I'll do a decent sketch later...

𝓐𝓣𝓦𝓞𝓦 𝓢𝓞𝓒𝓘𝓐𝓛 𝓜𝓔𝓓𝓘𝓐 𝓐𝓤 𝓢𝓔𝓡𝓘𝓔𝓢

one , two , three,

four , five , six

seven , eight , nine

ten, eleven , twelve

thirteen , fourteen , fifteen

more coming soon..

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒

ao’nung x reader

massive simp neteyam

tsireya and y/n trolling neteyam

neteyam simping (2)

more ao’nung

kiri and y/n

tsireya and lo’ak

y/n and lo’ak being menaces

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how it started and how it ended.