Hey everyone my name is Karisma (like charisma) I am a 24 years old creator of many things like writing and art. I decided to focus more on my aspect of writing recently and want to make fanfics for myself and others. Right now I am currently writing for The Avatar Franchise, we’ll see if I branch of from there.
I recently fell in love with Avatar all over again in 2025. I got reintroduced back into and now my fascination have taken bloom and have taken flight lol So don’t be afraid to chat with me on the matter or chat with me on anything! As long as you are kind and nice about things.
Keep it cute, keep it classy 😂
Without further ado, here is my wonderful blog. Take a walk on my wild side~ Take peek into my mind 🤭
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Before jumping in these tabs let it be known:
✨ — This is a R18+ Blog MINORS DNI🔞
✨— All characters here are all already of age or aged up! If you are uncomfortable, Please to come to me and complain about it you can leave and/or block me. This will be the first warning you will see.
✨— I will not tolerate hate, bullying, rude or disrespectful behavior, racism or homophobia in any form. This is a safe space for everyone.
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Thank you @itskekeelise for thinking of me and taking me my love!! I hope you are fairing well. So I am taking on this challenge and I like my results so far!
I mean I am a Leo so a panther with a beautiful orange blossom fits
The galactic astrology theme with the beautiful moon and stars with the appeasing appearance of aged papers is my kind of vibe lol
I love the beauty and the vibes of any forest. This one captures perfectly and when I looked it up it popped up first. Pinterest knows me too well lmao. The beautiful flowers remind me of my Bougainvillea flower bush I have in my backyard.
Of course the baddie on deck has popped up as first. They know I love this woman down lol
This is a shock this is honestly my first pic. I do really like sushi!!
This was the first option that popped up when I searched up shows. I never really watched Adventure time like that so maybe this is a sign lol
Chy i mean this is not the movie gut he is in a movie lmao. It doesn’t hurt to have a little bit of Lo’ak appreciation~
The Avatar fandom has a weird racism problem where people are attacking black and poc for having Navi ocs with darker toned and curly hair or attacking black and poc just for being in the fandom.. are we forgetting the Navi are inspired by mostly Africans, Native Americans, Pacific Islanders and many other indigenous groups??
Nattikay being anti black and talking like a klan member isn’t surprising since this fandom surprisingly attracts these individuals
No but seriously she had said some of the most deplorable shit
Nattikay’s Problematic History on Tumblr. Hello. This is an extensive callout for the user Nattikay (also known as @/featherkitti on Xwitt
Yeah, this is an insane problem. The fact that the Na’vi are inspired by so many amazing communities, and yet we burn their people out. Why??? I fucking love seeing their amazing designs and ocs bc they’re so uniquely tied to everything, and have so much depth to them, and yeah, sure, I’m jealous, but its in a way that I want more of that in my community, because it’s amazing to see! Because it brings such vibrancy to something I live for!
It’s pathetic and cowardly for a community with such inspirations for the source material as Avatar to be pushing out the very people it was designed from. And I hate it. You can’t fucking be an Avatar fan and be racist. Those two cannot and will not coexist.
And I’m glad people are stepping up to call it out. Bc I know for a fact that NOT A SINGLE AVATAR CHARACTER WOULD SUPPORT THIS BEHAVIOR. Not a single fucking one.
Oh, hell no! I'm not gonna follow a person like this anymore. Especially for someone that is in the Avatar fandom. I don't trust a person like this. Thanks for bringing this to attention!
honestly, I think we need some more Bayverse Raph smut, why? First, it’s Raph. And we love some Raph. Second? So little people request stuff for Bayverse Raph it’s crazy😭 And he’s my favourite turtle. So you can decide WHAT the fic is about, I just request some Raph smut!!
Backshots (18+)
Bayverse!Raphael x reader
A/N: Sounded like you were in desperate need, so I quickly cooked up something😂 It’s pretty short, but hey, Bayverse Raphael doing backshots? Hell yeah. Enjoy!❤️
All characters are aged up.
Warnings: Short, doggy, overstimulation, squirting, Raph calls you a dirty girl.
“Yeah, that’s it”, Raphael growled behind you, standing on his bedroom floor, while you laid ass up on his bed. “Take all of it. Keep takin’ all of it, ya dirty girl”.
“Fuck, Raph!”, you cried out, trying to reach for him behind you. But he grabbed your arm, curling it up on your back, never once breaking the rhythm of his hips snapping against your ass, the sound of your skin slapping together echoing throughout Raphael’s room.
Your tight, long-sleeved crop top was still on, but your pants and underwear were far gone, lying somewhere in Raph’s bedroom, far forgotten as he continued to ram into you.
“Nah, dirty girls don't get to touch”, Raph chuckled, finding your whimpering sounds and desperate pleas adorable, his voice so low you could feel wetness starting to run down your thighs. Raph had already made you cum three times already, just by ramming you from behind, so you had no idea how you could still manage to get so wet when he talked. “Dirty girls are only made to be fucked”.
Raph let go of your arm, before grabbing a hold on your hips with both hands, thrusting into you at a brutal speed, making you scream and moan against the mattress. You sounded like a pornstar with how loud you were, however, your sounds were real. You were desperate, feeling yourself getting close to get another orgasm, not knowing if you could handle it.
“Raph! I’m - oh fuck - I’m-!”
“I know”, Raph groaned. “Cum for me, (Y/N). Squirt and make my bed wet like the dirty girl ya are”.
This man was going to be the death of you. Yet you came, crying out in pleasure as you squirted around Raph’s thick member, just like he had wanted you to, all while you saw white spots before your eyes.
“Shit”, Raph groaned, settling his speed, before almost pulling out of you, his head still stuck inside your overstimulated cunt. The hands on your hips moved to your ass, where Raph grabbed onto your cheeks, pulling them away from each other, so he could get a better look at your wet cunt, pulsing around his still erect cock. Then - to your surprise - he spat onto your cunt, putting his hands back on your hips, before slowly rocking in and out of you again. “You can do better, (Y/N)”.
“Wait, what?!”, you asked, trying to turn so that you could look at Raph, only for your head to be pushed down against the bed, his hand on your cheeks forcing the side of your face down.
“I said I wanted my bed wet”, Raph groaned, a smirk thick in his voice. “And squirtin’ only on me isn’t enough”. His raised one of his feet onto the bed, making it easier for him to thrust into you at full force once again.
synopsis: you and jake were new parents, and things were not going as smoothly as the two of you hoped. one thing led to the next, and slowly, jake began to have the feeling that he was losing himself. but you were there, to guide him, to make sure he knew he was a good father.
word count: 1.9k
content: reader replaces neytiri, and mentions of rough childhood discipline, but other than that, a little angst and lots of fluff and nervous dad jake <3
a/n: based on this request by @smuttyjane, thanks for requesting twin! dad jake has my entire heart and soul, i love pre-war jake so much it's not even funny he's so sweet and i KNOW he was so scared to be a dad to neteyam but he was such a good dad. that was his baby :(
Eywa, Jake hopes he won't mess this up.
Holding his squirming baby boy in his arms, Jake settles into the swayvini [family hammock] he built months ago. The soft woven fibers sinking slightly with the introduced weight, Jake rocks his son back and forth, trying to settle him down for the night.
"Come on, Neteyam. Time to go to sleep."
The week-old newborn's ears flickered at the familiar sound of his name, those bright amber eyes staring up at Jake as they always did, the light of the stars twinkling in them. Ever since you gave birth, Jake loved the quiet solitude of moments like these, watching Neteyam slowly get used to being in the world around him. Those small, three-fingered hands reached up to grab whatever was nearby, the latest victim being Jake's tswin [neural queue] resting over his right shoulder. But he didn't mind. He never did. Not when it was his baby boy.
There was nothing that brought tears to the ex-Marine's eyes like seeing so much of you, his beautiful mate, his first karyu [teacher], who taught him to See, in the features of Neteyam. He admired every feature that he traced with his eyes, your syuratan [bioluminescent pattern] and your stripes, to the small upturning of your eyes when you smile, all that you passed to your son. Standing slowly, Jake adjusted his son in his arms, his hands supporting the little one's back and neck as he walked around the kelku [home], trying to get Neteyam to sleep. But the newborn was relentless, his impossibly tiny hands grabbing at the swaying beads in his father's hair. With every soft coo, came a series of gentle shushes, to no avail.
Outside, within the walls of Kelutral [Hometree], the wind began to pick up, the leaves swaying softly in the night breeze. Fauna clicked, whistled, and moved quietly around Na'rìng [the Omatikayan rainforest], the soft noises being smooth enough to put Neteyam down, Jake hoped. The home had gone quiet, but his little one was still awake, and growing restless by the moment. Every noise, every rustle of of the branches made both his and his son's heads turn to the outside, looking for any trace of you.
You had stepped out for a moment, seeking help from Tsahìk Mo'at with restlessness for both you and Jake. Like any couple with a newborn, it was hard to truly feel rested when you were only able to sleep for a few hours at a time. The Tsahìk mixed batches of sleeping herbs to be made into a tea for the both of you, allowing for deeper sleep and a shortened amount of time between being awake and drifting into the subconscious. Having better rest between the two of you allowed for an easier time when dealing with a colicky newborn, especially as of late. Neteyam had become attached to your side, crying anytime you or Jake weren't there to hold him. And he just tolerated Jake long enough to be rocked to sleep.
Though now, that didn't seem to be working.
Jake was at his wit's end. You fed your newborn before you had gone, then handed him off to Jake while you went to the healing tents. As soon as you left, Neteyam began softly cooing for his sa'nu, while Jake tried everything he could. Rocking, walking around the kelku, even taking him on a short, low-altitude ikran ride. But nothing worked. It seemed his son was hellbent on staying awake until his mother got back.
"Please, do not do this to me, baby boy. Not right now. Sa'nu will be back soon. You just...have to go to sleep first, okay?"
That seemed to be the catalyst that set everything off. Neteyam's small whimpers picked up in cadence, growing louder and louder until the infant began a screaming fit, his small face bunched up as his lungs worked to possibly wake up the clan. Jake let out a harsh sigh, changing his hold to rest his son on his shoulder, patting his back, trying not to hit the small, restlessly-swinging tail that displayed how irritated the little one was. It took everything in within the man to not put Neteyam down in his small nest of blankets and let him cry himself to sleep, but he promised himself not to do that. He wouldn't just leave his only child like that.
Not like his own father would have.
Jake promised himself, promised you, that he would give fatherhood everything he had in him. He knew most of what that entailed, Norm told him all about it, he even grew up around a few babies. All of whom were noisy like this. He had vivid memories of his own father, him and his twin brother Tommy being on the receiving hand of many beatings, many long talks, so many punishments.
'Don't show emotion.'
'Men are supposed to be tough. No fears, no tears.'
'You've got to be strong. You aren't a man otherwise.'
No.
He wouldn't subject his son to that. Jake was going to be better. His son deserved a role model who was not only strong, but vulnerable.
And vulnerable he was. Especially now. With a crying newborn on his shoulder, it was like something was tearing at the inside of his head. Making him doubt all that he had done. The songs he sang to your belly as the two of you lay together near the end of your pregnancy, swearing to love and cherish the gift that the Great Mother had given him. The frustration he felt with himself, not being able to comfort his own son, the very life he had a hand in creating, it was all too much. Jake could hear it now, his father's voice ringing in his head, those same demeaning words creeping their way back into his conscience.
'Look at you. Another failure of the Sully family—'
"Ma Jake? Is everything okay?" Your voice could be heard before you rushed in, dropping the small pouch of herbs at the front of the kelku, immediately making your way to your mate's side, taking in the tears that began to line his eyes, the exhaustion etched into the lines of his downturned expression. His breathing was ragged, desperate, as if you had been what he was searching for. Instantly, you took Neteyam from off his shoulder, cradling your son in your arms as he, slowly but surely, began to settle down. As soon as he became quiet, Jake simply scoffed, burying his head in his hands as he nearly fell into the hammock behind him.
"How do you—I mean, is there something I keep doing wrong? Am I not comfortable enough, am I—"
Am I not a good father?
The words hung in the air, unspoken but permeating through the thick silence of the marui, now that Neteyam had all but fallen asleep in your hold. Quickly putting the little one in a woven sling, taking care to pull his little tail out to allow it the freedom of movement, you sat beside Jake, taking one of his hands in yours, pressing gentle kisses to each of his four fingers.
"Ma yawnetu, nga lu ke kawng sempul. [My love, you are not a bad father.] You are the best father that our son could ever have, the best father that I know you are. You are not doing anything wrong. We are both just, in a way, struggling. We are adjusting to having a new addition around." Motioning to the sleeping infant that lay tied to your chest, you offer Jake a soft smile, something he barely reciprocates. But a smile was there, and that was all you wanted to see.
You brought his hand to settle on Neteyam's back, the two of you relishing in the soft rise and fall of his torso as he slept deeply, something the both of you wished to do as soon as possible. Even though there was a small flicker of hope that sparked in your chest, the belief that you may have quelled those doubts and fears in your muntxatan's [husband's] mind settling within you, for Jake, it was the opposite.
He couldn't bring his eyes to meet yours, the guilt of his earlier thoughts still weighing on his mind. He knew that he wanted to tell you, to tell someone, but he resented himself for ever thinking that way about his baby boy.
"I just...want to do right by him, baby. I promised you. And I promised him. He deserves a better father than the one I had back on Earth. And...I honestly am struggling to think I can give him that."
As soon as Jake stops, the air leaves your chest faster than you wanted to admit. How could he say that about himself? He told you stories, though they were few and far between, about his life back on Earth. How his father mistreated him, and his mother did nothing to stop it. Called it 'discipline.'
Tìkxal.
It wasn't right. None of it was.
And Jake needed to know that too. He needed to believe it.
"Ma Jake, you are doing right by your son. He loves you, even if that comes in the form of crying. He cries with you because he feels safe enough to do so. He trusts you enough to show his emotions. Neteyam loves his sempu [dad]. And I know his sempu loves him right back."
"We will be alright. This will just take time. But I need you to hear me. You have done everything right. You are a better man than...than your own father was. Take pride in that, tìyawn [beloved]."
For the first time that night, Jake took your hands in his, finally looking back at you, the intensity in his gaze far too strong to ignore. His eyes, their glowing golden hue illuminated in the darkness of the Pandoran night, stared into yours, his gratitude for you emanating more than words could. He pressed kisses into your palms, moving up to your neck, then taking your face into his hands, those captivating eyes tracing the outline of your features. Taking great care not to startle Neteyam, fast asleep just as before, Jake moved closer, closing the distance that he could to get as close to his love as possible.
You were right.
He was trying his best.
That was more than his own father could ever say.
Relishing in the tiny, relaxed features along his son's face, Jake pulled you in by the waist, motioning for you to lie down while he moved to the txeptseng [hearth] to start brewing the sleeping tea. Your hands held Neteyam still as you laid back in the swayvini, starting to rock slowly to keep him asleep on your chest. From the other side of the kelku, Jake threw wood onto the fire, bringing water to warm up for the leaves to steep.
He watched the herbs swirl in the water, unpredictable paths crossing and swirling together, but at some point, they all settled to the bottom, together. Just as you and him did, mated before Eywa herself. He turned to see you, humming a soft lullaby as the hammock rocked back and forth, Neteyam's hand curled around one of your own fingers, a gentle smile plastered on your face. Your half-lidded eyes shone with a happiness that the two of you shared, grateful for the uncertainty that made your paths collide. And that unpredictability, it brought Jake the biggest blessing he could've asked the Great Mother for. His baby boy.
A blessing he would never exchange.
thanks for reading! comments and reblogs are always appreciated, let me know if you liked this!
here have this gift while i work on other stuff! wrote ts in a couple hours gng, i went crazy...thank you everyone for being so patient with me during this grueling exam season!
i made this when i was so tired yall so excuse how shallow it seems, but i need more jake fluff in my life, we all do
i also stand by the belief that jake had that harsh southern discipline as a kid, beatings and toxic masculinity and all, so that's the reason he decided to join the marines, because he already understood that discipline and was used to an environment like that. so now he's trying to do better by his sons and daughters, thought that may need some work i can't lie jake...
awwwwww, so cute! sooooo cute! BABY NETEYAM AAAAAAAA but my boy lo'ak, that's my SON and i stand on that!!!!!
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I love how soft this little moment was how precious. Its like holding a flower gently in your hand. It’s good to display how soft Jake is and can be for his children.
Summary: you paint Quaritch’s battle markings, a heated moment sparking a rivalry between you and your sister varang.
Warnings: jealousy, conflict between sisters, love triangle?, slow burn undertones, sensual undertones, flirting, lmk if i missed anything.
Notes: this is something short until i figure out what i want to do for part 2.
Word count: 1.6k
The fire had burned lower by the time you finished mixing the pigment.
Most of the warriors were already marked for battle, Red flame streaks, ash lines, symbols that meant fury and rebirth.
Laughter and low conversation carried across the village but he was still standing there, waiting.
You knew he was.
He stood off to the side again, the firelight rolling across the scars on his chest.
You walked over with the bowl of pigment, pretending you weren’t nervous.
His eyes lifted the moment you approached, slow and knowing.
“Took you long enough, sweetheart.” he said.
Your ears warmed, you tried to keep your voice steady. “You did not ask.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Didn’t have to.”
How you felt for him wasn’t subtle and you knew it.
You stepped closer, close enough to see those faint scars across his chest, the healed cuts along his ribs, you swallowed.
“I will paint you,” you said softly.
“Oh, I figured you would.”
That made you look up.
Up close, he was always bigger than he looked across the fire. Broader.
The heat of him almost mixed with the heat of the flames behind you.
You dipped your fingers into the red pigment. “Hold still,” you murmured.
He leaned back against the stone behind him and spread his knees slightly so you could stand between them, casual, comfortable.
Too comfortable.
Your hand met his shoulder first.
You dragged the first streak of red slowly down from the curve of his shoulder toward his chest, the pigment spread against his skin, bright in the firelight.
He didn’t look at the mark, he looked at you.
Your fingers dipped into the red pigment again, When you pressed your hand into his chest, the heat of his skin bled straight into your palm.
“You’re gentle,” he said quietly.
Your eyes flicked up, surprised. “I am not.”
A low sound left his throat, almost amused.
“You are with me.”
The words were soft, almost thoughtful, and they made your hand falter just for a second.
You dragged your hand slowly from his chest to his collarbone, the movement was careful and red spread across the hard plane of his chest, following the curve of muscle.
“You like this,” he said.
Your hand froze against his sternum.
“No.”
Your answer came too quickly.
His voice lowered, quieter now.
“Like takin’ care of me.”
You bit your lip without thinking.
His gaze dropped to your mouth.
“You fight with us,” you murmured after a moment. “You should wear our marks.”
He hummed softly, the sound low in his chest.
Your touch slowed.
The red dragged across his skin in a smooth line, your fingers following the shape carefully.
His eyes followed your fingers down before looking back to your face.
“real focused, darlin’” he murmured.
“It must be correct.”
“Mm.”
Your hand moved lower with the design, spreading the pigment across the firm lines of his abdomen.
The muscles under your fingers tightened slightly when you pressed there.
He lifted one hand slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted.
You didn’t.
His fingers wrapped gently around your wrist, sliding your hand back up to his chest
“You don’t gotta rush,” he said.
You glance up at him, eyes meeting his again and the way he was looking at you, it made your stomach flip.
“I am not rushing.” you whispered.
But your voice came out quieter than you meant it to.
A small smirk tugged at his mouth. “You are.”
You hand moved again, continuing the mark down downward, dragging the red line slowly along his sternum again.
He watched every inch of it.
letting your fingers trail lower than they had before, smearing the final streak of red across his abdomen
Your hand dragged through the paint again.
Then down.
Just a little farther than necessary.
His breath caught.
It was subtle but you felt it.
"You do that to every warrior?" he asked quietly.
you shook your head, hand slowly sliding lower it needed to be.
Your hand was still smeared with red paint, your fingers hovered near the lower edge of his loincloth,
Too close.
His gaze flicked down briefly then back to your eyes.
“Careful,” he murmured.
You tilt your head to the side slightly as you look up at him, smiling faintly. “I’m just finishing the mark,” you whispered.
The air between you grew thick.
“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” he added under his breath, voice rougher now, “and one of these days I’m gonna forget Varang said you’re off limits.”
Your voice came out barely above a whisper.
“I am not a child…. i can make decisions for myself.”
“I know.”
For a moment neither of you moved.
his eyes dropped to the paint spread across his skin, then they lifted back to you.
"Did good," he said quietly.
There was no teasing in it.
Something warm spread through your chest. "Varang would not approve," you murmured.
A faint smirk appeared. "Varang ain't the one paintin' me."
Your teeth caught your lip before you could stop yourself.
The firelight flickered across his painted chest, highlighting every ridge of muscle, every red streak you had left with your fingers.
You stepped closer, Your fingers drifted just a little farther down, fingers tips dipping into his loincloth, testing.
His biceps flexed subtly as your fingers moved further, he caught your gaze, and small thrill ran through you.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low, rough.
You cut him, “I… just want it perfect,” you whispered, smirking faintly.
His eyes darkened, and his chest rose a little faster. He leaned forward, slow, so that his face moved toward yours.
The heat radiating off him had your pulse thudding in your ears, your lips parted slightly, your breath catching.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed.
Your nose almost brushed his.
You were sure he thought you were about to kiss him.
He stopped just short, lingering, close enough that the warmth of his face pressed toward yours, his breath mingling with yours.
Then, with a soft, teasing laugh, you pulled back just enough to escape, tilting your head and letting your smirk show.
“Not yet,” you whispered, voice light but full of mischief.
That small motion, just a fraction of space was all it took.
He groaned low, rough, almost involuntarily, the sound vibrating deep in his chest.
Before you could react, his face dipped, pressing firmly into the side of your neck, his warm breath fanned across your skin.
“You…” he murmured into your neck, voice thick. “You’re something else.”
You both could hear lyle calling for him from a distance
He stood then, rising to his full height, the Mangkwan red stretched across his broad chest like it belonged there.
Like you had meant it to.
He leaned down slightly as he passed you, close enough that his voice was meant only for you.
"Next battle," he murmured near your ear, "you paint me again."
Not a request.
You nodded before you even thought about it.
Before you could even catch your breath, Varang’s hand was on your wrist, pulling you sharply aside.
“Enough!” she snapped, her voice like fire, eyes flashing with frustration.
“sister….” you started, but she cut you off.
“You think I do not see what you are doing? Teasing him like that, touching him, leaning into him…” Her voice dropped.
“I… I was not…” you started, but she cut you off, again.
“You were not what? Teasing him? Touching him? Leaning into him like that?” Her voice rose
You clenched your jaw, looking away, “Varang..”
“No!” she snapped, stepping so close that you could feel the anger radiating off her. “I… I want him. I want him, and you are teasing him, and I cannot…” Her voice faltered for a heartbeat, then sharpened again. “I cannot let you make him yours before I even get the chance!”
You blinked, flustered, cheeks burning, not just from her words, but from the fury you were feeling. “Varang… you cannot…”
“Yes, I can,” she hissed, stepping even closer. “I have seen the way he looks at you, the way you look at him. But he was mine first, and I am not letting you….”
“Oh, really?” you shot back, voice strong, sharp, echoing her intensity. “And since when do you get to tell me what I can or cannot do? He is not yours, Varang.”
Her eyes widened, then narrowed, lips pressing into a hard line. “Do not..” she started, but you cut her off.
“Do not what?” you challenged, stepping toward her, matching her fire. “You want him? Fine. But you are not going to scare me or boss me around, because you want him. I am not backing down!”
Varang blinked, stunned for a heartbeat, but her jaw tightened. “You… you have no idea what you are doing, “You think this is a game,” she scoffs, voice low, “It is not. You better watch yourself, little sister…”
“No sister, you watch yourself, you’re crazy if you think I’m backing down because you want him!”
she hisses and you hiss back, baring your teeth.
Varang’s chest rose and fell rapidly, the firelight catching her flushed face, the raw heat of jealousy blazing in her dark eyes.
Silence stretched between you, Finally, Varang’s jaw clenched, and she stepped back a fraction, exhaling through her nose.
Her gaze flicked toward where Quaritch had gone, then back at you. A low, frustrated growl rumbled in her chest, “You’d better be careful,” she warned, voice tight.
Then, with a sharp exhale, she turned on her heel and stalked off.
Idk… i thought this was pretty good, i still don’t know if i want to do a happy ending or not?! decisions, decisions, choices, choices!
