Pairings: Jake, aged!up Neteyam, aged!up Lo'ak, Quaritch x reader.
Summary: The Sully's come to your tribe, Hulanta, for uturu. When they came to the swamp, they didn't know the Tsahik was going to make their heads spin. Within her presence, it'll be the closest they'll ever get to Eywa.
Tags: Manipulation, infidelity, marking, scenting, blood, reader is a maneater, reader is morally-grey, wet dreams, masturbation, p in v, cunnilingus, praise-kink, reader will be degrading Quaritch, old men complaining and competing, father at competition with sons, sons at competition with father, tonguing them down, men groveling, needy Neteyam, needy Lo'ak, delusional Jake Sully, eager Quaritch.
You ran your fingers over his jaw. Jake sleepily blinks his eyes open, his vision blurry before they focus. The two of you were laying on a huge plush flower. The area around you were hills of small blue flowers. Atokirina are everywhere. Jake felt the beat of his heart like Ewya is calling to him. Jake pushed himself to his elbows, his eyes wandering around the scenery before his sight found you.
You looked gorgeous. Your dark blue skin is illuminated with shimmering green with your bright tanhì. The purple sky blanketing your skin in purple shadows. Once again, the two of you laid with each other naked. Your presence felt realer than in his last dream of you. Jake reached out to you, pulling you towards him with his huge hand grasping your waist.
Jake rolled himself over your body, your back flush to the bud of the flower you laid on. Jake held himself over you, completely shadowing your lithe body under his. You watched him from under your long eyelashes, you flutter them slowly and suggestively, a small flirtatious smile at the corner of your lips.
Jake trailed a finger down the line between your breasts, his hand came up and cupped one of your breasts. Jake rolled the nipple under his finger pads before squeezing it. Jake’s tongue slipped out of his mouth, licking over his lips before he dipped down to your neck. Jake ran his tongue up your neck, he dipped down, nipping at your collarbone with his fangs.
“How does your skin taste so sweet?” Jake asks.
“Because I am everything you desire Jake.” You answer.
You put your hands on his neck. You pulled him back, pressing your lips against his. You and Jake pulled back for a beat before kissing again. You ran your tongue over his fang, you tilted your head back, you nipped his upper lip. Both you and Jake roll your eyes close as the two of you resume kissing.
You ran your fingers through the locs at the back of his head. You gripped his hair until it was a wad in your fist. You stiffly pulled him back, you bite his bottom lips, licking up the blood that dribbled out of it. You ripped his head back by his locs.
Jake huffed in pleasure, a crude moan slipping past his lips, his tail wrapped around your thigh. The grip of his tail was loving but possessive. Jake lightly ran his hand down the curve of your back, his fingers gliding over the curve of your spine.
Jake moved his hand down until it rested on your ass. He gave it a squeeze, needing your ass with the palm of his hand. You leaned back into, placing a peck on his lips before making out with Jake.
Jake moaned, squeezing his eyes before pushing his tongue between your lips. Jake ran his tongue over yours, trying his best to lick the spit out of your mouth, his brain swirling in euphoria as he tasted the ambrosia that is your mouth, your spit, your flavor.
Jake’s eyes rolled back under his eyelids, Jake pushed himself onto you until you were smushed underneath his hard muscles and the fluffy soft texture of the flower beneath you.
You trailed your hand over his hip, you skimmed the palm of your hand on his ass before your fingers wrapped around the base of his tail. You yank it, making Jake jerk. A wanton moan leaves his lips. Jake pulled both of your legs apart. The both of you were breathing heavily from losing your breaths from kissing. You spread your legs further, Jake perfectly slotting between your thighs.
“Eywa, you’re so pretty.” Jake whispers against your lips.
“Jake.” You say, running your hand over his cheek. “Fuck me skxawng.”
You painfully yank on Jake’s tail. Jake groans, pushing his thick dick into your pussy.
“You need me don’t you?” Jake asks.
“Quite the opposite. You crave the taste of me. Watching me when I’m not even looking. You desire me, Jake Sully.” You grinned.
Jake fucked into you harder.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Jake grunted with effort as he slid himself deeper into you. “I’ve wanted a taste of you since we first met.”
“I knew. I could see it in your eyes Jake.” You faked a frown, looking up at him with big eyes. “Dreaming of fucking me while your mate stood beside you.”
Jake groaned, his head dipped down to your shoulder, his hips slapping against your hips. The slick sounds of his dick inside your pussy made his ears hot. Jake huffed out a wet breath before picking himself up.
Jake leaned on his knees, his arms wrapped around your torso, pulling you up until you were seated on his huge thighs. Jake held you by the torso, his hip snapping up, hastily thrusting to you. Jake’s face pinched in pleasure.
“Don’t speak of her.” Jake says.
You arched your neck, throwing your head back with a moan.
“Why not Jake? You fantasize about me. Your dick hard as you drooled at your dream of having me to yourself. How excited you were to have me to yourself on this hunt. Watching every length of my body as if your kids weren’t behind you. And your dear Neytiri stood there clueless.” You meanly laugh.
Jake’s hand snapped up to your jaw, he gripped it. A surprise sound left your lips as a growl slipped past Jake’s lips. The rumbling of the growl vibrated in his throat.
“Don’t talk about my family.” Jake seethed. All bark, no bite.
You slapped his hand away. The back of your hand meets his cheek.
“You fucking love this. Feel how hard you are inside me. As if you weren’t desperately rutting against my pussy when you thought about how this may affect your lifestyle. Do you think Neteyam or Lo’ak would respect their father if they saw you fucking me like this?” You ask, your eyes peering into his.
Tears sprang to the corners of Jake’s eyes, he pathetically blinked them as he dissolved from the pleasure of fucking you. He dragged his tongue to the side of his mouth, licking up the blood of his split lip.
“Say it.” You say.
“Say what?” Jake asks.
You run a finger over his jaw.
“Say you love this.” You said.
“I-.” Jake moans, cutting himself off.
“Say it.” You demand.
“I fucking love this.” Jake shouts.
Jake’s hand painfully squeezed your ass as he picked you up and dropped you down on his dick.
“Now you.” Jake said, panting.
“What?” You ask.
“Say you love it.” Jake begs.
You ran your thumb over his cheek bone.
“I love it Jake.” You affirm.
Jake threw you down, his hands holding your hands over your head. Jake thrusts faster into you, his eyes rolling back when you squeeze around him. Your moans became high pitched, your back arched up as you came. Your legs violently shook from your orgasm, your entire body trembling. Your finger nails scratch at Jake’s hands.
“F-fuck baby.” Jake moaned, his eyes squeezing shut, rolling his hips as he came. His cum coated your walls, hot and sticky.
When Jake blinked his eyes open, he was back on the swamp floor. The dark sky is now bright and blue. His dick spent under his loincloth. His crotch is sticky and wet, his cum cooling along his thighs. Jake turned his head to look at you. You laid on your back. Your arms stretched over your head, your back arching off your bedroll as you did a careless stretch.
Guilt rolled heavy Jake’s stomach. He just go off in his sleep at the idea of fucking the Tsahik. A bitter taste lays heavy on Jake's tongue as he thinks about Neytiri. But a bud of arousal and content settles in Jake’s chest when he thinks of you.
You jump up, kneeling down and rolling up your bed roll. Shame and arousal overcame Jake as he watched the way your tail swings, and the flex of muscles in your ass as you moved. You picked it up, placing it on So’lxar’s back.
“We must move Jake.” You say, playing oblivious to his looks.
Jake gives you a jerky nod.
“Yeah, we should do that.” Jake says lamely.
Jake was slow to get up. He picked up a rag from a travel bag. He made sure your back was towards him before discretely wiping between his thighs. Jake’s ears pin back in humiliation. “Today’s going to be a long day.” Jake thinks to him sullenly.
“We should continue on foot. We’ll be able to track better.” You say.
You, Jake, and So’lxar continue through the dewy spawn floor. Your eyes widened, kneeling down.
“There’s tracks here.” You address, pointing a finger at the foot print.
Jake knelt down beside you.
“What do you think made it?” Jake asks.
Your eyes wandered over the foot prints a while longer. You start trailing the footprints.
“A talioang.” You examine.
[ ! ] The Na'vi are known to eat talioang (sturmbeest), but for survival purposes only in order to adhere to the Great Balance. They are effectively a source of food that, due to their large size, provide a lot of meat while also minimizing the amount of animals that have to suffer and die to provide it. As such, the Na'vi revere the talioang. A number of different clans extol the virtue of the animal in textiles, music, song, dance, and art. — Avatar Wiki
Jake’s ears perked up at the name, he kept up with your pace.
“The omatikaya usually hunt talioang in groups, do the Hulanta usually hunt talioang indivisually?” Jake asks.
You shook your head.
“The Hulanta also hunt the talioang in groups. They're extremely territorial, so it’ll be a challenge for you as Toruk Makto. By taking one down by yourself, you’ll prove your worth to the Hulanta. If you succeed, you and your family will be blessed with a better marui. We’ll leave So’lxar here, they have bad eyesight but their sense of smell is very acute. They’ll be able to smell her before we can get the drop of one of them. ” You say.
Both you and Jake pushed through heavy branches, leaving So’lxar who sat down and watched the two of you disappear through the thick underbrush.
“They will provide us with meat. Their hide and bones are extremely useful to the Hulanta. We use them for musical instruments like gongs. Killing one with grace and respect for the Great Balance, will place you high within the Hulanta.” You explain.
A clearing appeared. Just before you, a pack of four talioang moved about. You held a hand out to Jake.
“We will be careful. I’ll lore away the other talioang and herd them off towards the drylands. I’ll leave it to you to defeat the remaining talioang. If you live, you’ll go north of here. There, you’ll find a clearing. That is where I’ll be waiting for you.” You explain.
Jake nods.
“Got it. I’ll come back to you.” Jake says.
“You’ll live for your kids? Your mate?” You ask, tartly.
Jake swallowed thickly, his eyes wandering down before snapping back to your face. Hesitation is abundant in his face.
“Of course.” Jake says with a shrug.
You pretended not to notice. You slipped down the hill, through fern and full tall grass. You made an antagonistic gesture by waving your hands. The talioang notices you immediately. They charge at you, their horns pointed down, readying to toss your body.
Before the horn could slice you, you jumped out of the way. The blunt horn of one of the talioang nearly goring you.
“This way.” You shout, dashing to the opposite of them.
The talioang near you reared its head back, snapping its thick neck to knock its horn into your side. You watched the action in slow motion. Your hand darts down to your hip, your fingers slip around the hilt of your sword.
With the will of Eywa you were able to draw out your sword from its scabbard before the horn could spear you.
Your sword’s blade and the horn of the talioang clashed with a spark. Electricity zipped up the blade of your sword, the light absorbed into the hilt. The sound of the contact sung around you as you pushed yourself back and away from the three talioang.
As you herd the three talioang away, Jake had already gotten the attention of the targeted talioang. The talioang huffed loudly, digging its hooves into the wet grass before charging Jake.
Jake rolled out of the way, the talioang’s head made contact with a thick tree. The talioang turned back to Jake, completely unbothered by the hard impact it made with the tree.
Jake danced around the talioang. The talioang roared, stomping its hooves before charging at Jake again. By the hair of his kuru, Jake was able to dodge it. Jake leaped back, tactfully landing on his feet. Jake looked to his shoulder, his eyes trailing the flow of blood going down his shoulder.
Jake gripped his bleeding shoulder, his eye blazing as he watched the talioang charge with another attack. Jake was able to roll out of the way at the last moment, suffering from friction burn for all of his efforts.
“I don’t think I can dodge another one.” Jake says to himself.
Keep distance and aim for the weak spot above the front leg.
Jake looked to the forest line for you. He sighed in disappointment when he saw no sight of you. Jake pulled his bow from his back, holding it, he aimed it in front of himself. The talioang held its head down, charging at Jake. Jake drew back his bow, shooting a bow to the exposed nerves at the talioang front leg.
The talioang tripped, collapsing to its side. The talioang slid along the grass, it moaned in pain before picking itself up. Jake drew back his bow, he tilted his head to the side. The arrow spinned through the air, the arrow’s point spearing through the talioang neck. The talioang dropped to the swamp floor lifeless.
Jake slowly dropped his bow, his chest raising and falling with effort. His tail flick with amusement. He couldn’t wait to show you what he accomplished.
Your tail flicks with irritation. You watched from the grassline. Your purple eyes burn in anger as you watch the skypeople wander about. They walked with big guns in their hands and their AMP suits. The grass is a taut brown, all of the flowers dead. Not a sight or sound of any animals. You couldn’t even feel the heart of Eywa here. You’ve stumbled across a RDA installation site.
[ ! ] RDA Installations are small-scale mining facilities that contribute to environmental pollution on Pandora. ( — Source: Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora )
You find him half-dead on the side of the road; one look at him and you know he isn't human. You take care of him for a while, but he starts exhibiting strange behavior. He takes a strong liking to you and begins to get restless. You come to realize that no matter how obedient or quiet he is, he really is just a needy feral beast.
Werewolf hybrid x BlackFem!Reader
°ໂ2.5k+ words, smut/explicit sexual content(18+), domestic, mimicking behavior, handjob->blow job, dry humping, he's kind of pathetic, light humiliation, degradation, reader is stern but indulgent, doggystyle, knotting, no condom(wrap it!), pet names, plot(kinda), dubcon(just to be safe), etc.ໂ°
It had rained the night before. The trail was slick with rotting leaves, branches heavy and dripping above your head. Your boots sunk with every step, mud swallowing the soles like a warning. You almost didn’t see him.
At first, you thought it was a dead animal. Still, tangled in bush, half-covered in muck and pine needles. But then the shape registered—arms, legs, a human torso curled on its side like a child, one shoulder scraped raw where the skin met gravel.
You stopped mid-step. Heart thudding. Reached for the small knife clipped to your belt.
Then he moved.
A twitch—fingers flexing, clawing weakly at the earth. He turned his face up toward you, and your breath caught.
Not quite human. His eyes glowed faintly, the color of swamp water. His lips were split, dry and bloodied. Hair long and matted. Strips of cloth clung to his hips, barely covering him. There were gashes on his back. Deep ones.
"Shit," you muttered.
He made a noise—low, rasping. His eyes stayed locked on you. Wide, unblinking, wild with pain and something else. Something needy.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” you said slowly, crouching.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t flinch either. Just watched you with an expression like you're the first warm thing he’d seen in years.
You pulled your jacket off and draped it over him. He let out a soft sound—almost like a sob—but didn’t move away.
His body was burning up under the cold fabric. Feverish.
“You’re gonna die out here,” you said, mostly to yourself. “Stupid choice.”
Still no words. But his fingers twitched again—toward you. You paused. Then reached down, curling your hand around his wrist.
He sighed like he’d been waiting for that touch forever.
⋆ ˚
He didn’t weigh much.
You expected him to be heavier, but his limbs were all wiry muscle and sharp bones under skin too thin, too warm. Carrying him was awkward, not hard—he clung to you without making a sound, breath hot against your throat, chest heaving shallowly as you hiked back toward the cabin.
The whole way, he didn’t say a word.
Didn’t ask where you were going. Didn’t beg or resist. Just held on. Like a dying thing too tired to fight anymore.
The cabin door creaked open with a groan. You nudged it with your boot and stepped inside, the cold snapping off the back of your neck. The woodstove was out. You set him down on the couch, still wrapped in your jacket, and went straight for the firewood.
He watched you.
Didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just followed you with those swamp-green eyes like he needed you in his line of sight at all times or he’d stop breathing.
Once the fire was lit and crackling, you knelt beside him.
“I need to clean you up,” you said, voice low. “You’re bleeding all over my damn blanket.”
Again, no answer. Just that stare.
You peeled the soaked jacket off and winced. His chest and stomach were a mess of bruises and lacerations. Something had really done him in. The slashes weren’t clean—some looked like claws, others like bites. Not animal. Not human, either.
You got a bowl of warm water and some rags. Peroxide. Thread and needle. Sat down beside him and got to work.
He didn’t flinch when you touched him. Didn’t wince at the sting of antiseptic. Just watched you, lips parted, eyes tracking every movement of your hands like your care was a language he didn’t understand but wanted to memorize.
“You’re a quiet one,” you muttered, dabbing blood from his collarbone. “Probably how you ended up half-dead on a trail. Quiet and stupid.”
A soft breath escaped him. Not a laugh. Not quite. But close.
You looked up. His eyes were glistening. Not from pain.
“Don’t cry,” you said, sharper than you meant to. “Not like I’m doing this for you. I don’t need a corpse in my woods.”
His lips moved then. Barely.
“…you smell good.”
You stilled.
“What?”
He blinked slowly. “Warm.”
Your fingers flexed on the rag. You exhaled and turned back to the wound on his side.
“Don’t get weird,” you muttered. “You’re not staying long.”
But he just watched, quiet and pliant as you sewed his skin shut—like even your insults were holy. Like every second near you was a gift he didn’t deserve.
—
The storm had rolled in overnight. Thick fog clung to the windows like breath, and the trees outside groaned under the weight of cold rain. Inside the cabin, it was quiet—just the crackle of fire and the occasional creak of settling wood.
You stood at the stove, frying pan in hand, flipping eggs and watching the yolks settle. Bacon sizzled beside them, curling at the edges.
You could feel him watching behind you.
He sat at the little table by the window, knees drawn up, blanket wrapped loosely around his shoulders. Bare-chested. Bruises fading, skin still too pale. Hair damp from the wash you'd forced him to take that morning. He hadn’t said much—he rarely did—but his eyes followed you like always.
Hungry. Not just for food.
“Smells good,” he murmured.
His voice was always like that now—low, hoarse, careful. Like every word had weight. Like he didn’t want to speak unless you earned it.
You set the plate in front of him and handed him a fork.
He didn’t move to take it.
Instead, he looked up at you like he didn’t know what to do. Like the offering was too much. Hands curled in his lap, knuckles strained.
“You are gonna eat, right?” you asked, crossing your arms.
“…if you feed me.”
You raised a brow.
“Don’t push it.”
His eyes dropped instantly. “Sorry.”
That got you. That quiet apology, small and raw and not manipulative—just true. It sat heavy in your chest.
You sighed, pulled the chair out beside him, and sat down.
“Fine. But this is the first and last time.”
You picked up the fork and speared a bite of egg, holding it up. He leaned forward without hesitation—mouth open, slow, careful. His lips brushed the fork, and he hummed softly when he chewed.
You watched him swallow. Watched his lashes flutter.
“Good?”
He nodded.
You fed him another bite. Then another. He never looked away from your face. Even when you weren't looking directly at him, his gaze never wavered—like the food was just a means to stay close.
“Why do you look at me like that?” you asked softly, feeding him a piece of bacon.
He blinked. “Like what?”
“Like I’m gonna disappear.”
He chewed slowly. Licked a bit of yolk from his lip.
“…because you could.”
Your throat tightened. You shoved the last bite toward his mouth more roughly than necessary.
“Eat.”
He did. But when you set the fork down and stood to grab another plate for yourself, his hand caught your wrist.
Not hard. Not demanding. Just… asking.
“Thank you,” he whispered, eyes wide. “For helping me.”
You stared down at him, heartbeat slow and heavy.
“Don’t make me regret it,” you said flatly.
But you didn’t pull away.
⋆ ˚
You woke up to the sound of breathing that wasn’t yours.
Shallow. Close.
Your fingers curled around the knife under your pillow out of habit before your brain caught up with the familiarity of it. The warmth near your leg. The slow, anxious inhale.
You turned your head.
He was on the floor beside the bed, curled up on a blanket like some half-starved dog. Watching you.
Not asleep.
Just watching.
Again.
“How long have you been there?” you asked, voice flat.
He didn’t answer right away. His eyes searched your face like he was trying to memorize it in the dark.
“…Since you came to bed.”
You sighed, rubbing at your eyes. “Boy, you have your own damn couch.”
“You’re safer this way,” he said. “I can tell if something comes for you.”
There was no reasoning with that. Not the way he said it. Like he really believed there was something coming—something worse than him.
You sat up, blanket falling from your chest. His gaze dropped for a moment, but not with lust. With reverence.
You could almost feel the weight of his stare on your collarbone.
“Get back on the couch,” you muttered.
He didn’t move.
Instead, he whispered, “I like being close.”
Your jaw tensed.
But you didn’t force him. Not this time.
You laid back down, turned your body away from him, and tried to ignore the way his breathing steadied as soon as you did. How the air shifted—less like fear, more like worship.
⋆ ˚
A few days passed like that.
He was good. Quiet. Obedient. He followed your rules—washed when you told him to, ate everything you fed him, stayed inside even when the woods called to him through the windows. He stayed close. Always close.
Until one afternoon, when you came back from town.
You dropped your pack by the door. The cabin was too quiet. The fire was low.
“Hey,” you called, stepping inside. “You better not be bleeding on the rug again.”
No answer.
Then you heard the floorboard creak—just past the kitchen.
You moved slowly. Quiet. The air felt wrong.
When you turned the corner, you stopped cold.
He was standing by the sink. Wearing one of your shirts.
It hung loose on him, neck stretched, sleeves too short. He was barefoot. Damp—like he’d just showered. His hair was combed down, parted like yours. His expression blank, but his eyes—
His eyes were glowing.
You didn’t speak. Just stared.
His lips moved, mimicking the way yours had curled that morning when you tied your boots.
“I wanted to see,” he murmured. “What it felt like. Being you.”
Your pulse climbed.
“You think that’s normal?” you said, voice like ice. “Digging through my clothes? Copying me?”
His fingers clenched at his sides. He looked ashamed. Or scared. You couldn’t tell which.
“…I want to understand you,” he said. “If I can be more like you, maybe you’ll keep me.”
That last part?
It didn’t sound pathetic.
It sounded sad.
He wasn’t trying to scare you. He didn’t even seem aware of how disturbing it was.
He just wanted to stay.
Even if it meant becoming you.
It didn't get any better. He stopped asking before following you from room to room. You’d shift in your chair—he’d shift too. You’d open a drawer—his eyes would follow your hands like they were divine. You’d sigh, and he’d mimic it seconds later like he could feel what you felt, even when you didn’t say a word.
But tonight—it snapped.
You had just stepped out of the bathroom, towel clutched to your chest, steam curling around your shoulders. You were tired. The hot water had done nothing to ease the tension that built up from his staring, his watching, the constant pressure of his presence brushing too close, too often.
He was in your bedroom again.
Sitting on the edge of your bed like he belonged there.
“Get out,” you said without looking at him. “I’m not in the mood.”
But he didn’t move.
You felt him rise behind you as you dug through your drawer. The heat of him at your back, chest bare, breath unsteady.
“I am,” he whispered.
You froze.
His hand touched your shoulder—light, trembling. Like he didn’t know whether to worship you or break you open just to crawl inside.
“I can’t—” His voice cracked. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t want you. I do everything you ask. I sit by your bed like a dog, I eat when you feed me, I let you touch me when you clean my wounds—”
“You let me?” you snapped, whipping around, eyes hard.
He flinched, but didn’t back away.
“I need you,” he said hoarsely. “You don’t get it—I don’t know who I am anymore if I’m not touching something that belongs to you.”
You shoved past him, heart racing.
He grabbed your wrist.
Not hard—but with intent. His fingers curled, grounding himself on your skin.
“Please,” he whispered. “I won’t ask again. Just—just let me have something. Let me touch you. Let me show you that I can be what you need too.”
You stared at him.
Wild, half-naked, shaking.
His jaw trembled. “You belong to me, don’t you? Just a little?”
You didn’t flinch.
You didn’t soften either.
He looked wrecked—eyes glassy, lips parted, hand still trembling around your wrist like you were his only lifeline. He didn’t know how to hide anything. His need sat open on his face like a wound.
You stepped into him.
And kissed him.
Just once.
Quick. Firm. Your hand at his jaw, mouth warm but unyielding, like you were closing a circuit instead of offering comfort.
When you pulled back, his mouth chased yours.
You stopped him with a look.
“Go to bed,” you said.
He blinked, dazed.
You stepped back and watched him swallow it. Watched him obey.
Barely.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The woods behind the cabin were overgrown and quiet. You made him chase you through tall grass and loose trails, laughing as he stumbled, panting like a beast that hadn’t tasted meat in days.
He was fast—stronger now—but never caught you unless you let him. And sometimes you did. Just enough for him to grab your arm, breathe hard against your throat.
Then you’d twist away.
“Down, boy,” you’d mutter.
He’d drop to one knee like he couldn’t help it.
Like his body was wired to obey you even when his hunger told him to tear your clothes off.
⋆ ˚
You went straight to the shower when you came back—sweaty, flushed, loose with adrenaline. He tried to follow you in, but one look was enough to send him sulking back down the hall.
When you opened your bedroom door, he was waiting again.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders tense, jaw clenched, eyes blazing.
“I need you,” he said.
It wasn’t a whisper this time.
“I need you. Now. I’ve done everything. I’ve waited—I’ve let you tease me. You kissed me, you let me sleep in your bed, you call me names like you don’t know what it does to me—”
You raised a hand and he stopped.
Stewing in the silence.
You walked right past him. Grabbed a fresh shirt from your dresser. Looked over your shoulder once, and said:
“No.”
Then left him there. Hard, desperate, too strung out on want to move.
He didn’t talk to you for an hour.
Didn’t look at you either.
Just stayed curled up in the corner of the room like a pet thrown outside.
You waited until it was dark before you got up and went to him. Watched the way he tried not to lift his head. The way his throat bobbed when he heard your steps.
You ruffled his hair. No apology.
Then started cooking.
His favorite. The only thing he ever asked for more than once.
You didn’t have to look when you heard him get up.
Didn’t even blink when he appeared in the doorway, standing there with bare feet and glassy eyes, watching like he couldn’t decide whether to bite you or beg.
His voice was low, rough around the edges. “You’re not mad?”
You stirred the pot.
“No.”
“But you left.”
“You needed to cool off.”
“I need you,” he bit, hands fisting at his sides. “You don’t get it—I can’t—you’re all I think about, you smell so good, you taste—”
You turned your head just enough to see him, lifting a brow.
That shut him up fast.
But he didn’t leave.
He came in slow, circling behind you. No more talk. Just breath—hot, wet, frantic—against the back of your neck. You felt the shift before he touched you. The way his body lost its rhythm, gave into instinct.
Then—
His hips pressed flush to your ass.
His dick was already hard, straining through his pants.
He thrust once. Slow.
Twice. A little harder.
You didn’t stop him.
Didn’t help him either.
He grabbed your hips, fingers trembling, and started grinding in earnest. Ragged, animalistic, dragging his clothed dick up against you again and again like his brain had short-circuited.
“Fuck,” he gasped. “Feels—feels s’good—oh my god—please. Please just let me, I—I can’t—”
You rolled your eyes.
“You really can’t control yourself for five minutes, can you?” you muttered, letting him use you, body staying still as he rutted into your backside with frantic, shallow thrusts.
He whined. Actually whined.
You smirked.
“You really are just an animal, huh?”
A low, ragged groan vibrated from his chest. He rutted harder—slow, desperate. His head came down and layed on your shoulder, breath heavy and hot against your neck.
“You’d fuck me right here if I let you.”
"Mhmm," he managed to hum, still grinding into you.
He started to pant.
“You wouldn’t even last a minute, would you?”
You turned your head, barely glancing at him. “You’re so filthy. I thought you were a good boy, baby.”
He growled at you words, grip tightened at your waist.
Hips stuttering, breath catching, face probably twisted into something obscene behind you.
“Fuuuuck—fuck—oh my god—thank you, thank you, I needed—”
You felt him start to shake.
And then he came.
Hard.
Hot through his pants, his whole body curling around yours, pressing tighter as he spilled in his clothes with a broken, needy sob.
You didn’t turn around.
You just stirred the food, like he hadn’t just humped you like a dog and made a mess of himself on your ass.
“Dirty boy,” you said, calm, low. “Go clean yourself up.”
You heard him whimper.
“Then come eat.”
⋆ ˚
He came back ten minutes later.
Showered. Damp hair. Clean clothes.
But his face was still flushed, eyes holding so many mixed emotions, hands slightly shaking like the shame hadn’t washed off. He sat down at the table across from you, eyes flicking up, then down, then up again—starving, but not just for food.
You placed the bowl in front of him, slow and steady.
He didn’t say a word like he hadn’t just stained himself moaning your name under his breath.
But you watched him.
You watched the way his hand trembled slightly as he reached for the spoon.
The way he kept stealing glances at you, hungry and anxious, like he thought you might still be mad—or worse, like you might do nothing at all.
“You always eat so fast,” you said, voice smooth as cream.
He froze.
Chewed slow.
Swallowed.
“…sorry.”
“I didn’t say stop,” you added. “It’s cute. Like you’re afraid I’ll take it away.”
He blinked. A small sound caught in his throat.
You leaned your elbow on the table, resting your cheek in your palm.
“And earlier? That was cute too.”
His entire face shifted.
You tilted your head. “Making a mess in your pants like that. Just from a little pressure.”
He put his utensil down, hands balling into fists in his lap.
“Stop,” he whispered.
“Oh? Is that too much for your dirty little brain?” you murmured. “You hump me like an animal and now you want to pretend you’re shy?”
“I said stop,” he snapped, low and trembling.
You smiled, slow and sharp.
Silence stretched between you. His jaw clenched. His breath was shallow, like he didn’t know if he wanted to scream or fall to his knees.
Then—
You asked it.
Calm. Quiet.
Like it was nothing.
“What are you?”
His eyes shot to yours. “What…?”
You didn’t blink, just stared for a second longer than usual. “You heard me.”
He stared at you, frozen. Something in him recoiled—but something else thrummed. Deep. Dark. Animal.
“I don’t know,” he whispered, voice cracking.
You leaned in just a little, watching his pupils swell.
“You’re not human.”
“No.”
“But you’re not just some beast either.”
He shook his head slowly, lips parted, like the words had nowhere to go.
“I’m yours,” he said finally. “That’s all I know.
The words hung in the space between you.
“I’m yours.”
You let them sit. Heavy. Undeniable.
He was trembling, barely breathing—waiting to see if you’d reject it. Laugh. Walk away.
You didn’t.
You sat back in your chair, eyes never leaving his face. And softer now, more curious than cruel, you asked: “…Is that all you want to be?”
He blinked, chest rising and falling faster now. His lips parted, but nothing came out at first.
Then: “I don’t know what else I can be.”
You watched him carefully. He wasn’t lying.
“Do you remember anything? Before I found you?”
His jaw tensed. Shoulders too.
“I remember pain,” he said. “I remember running. Hunger. And hands—people—trying to cut something out of me. Like I wasn’t supposed to have it.”
“What?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t know. Something inside. Something that made me wrong.”
That quiet hung between you again. Thicker this time.
You took a slow breath, eyes drifting over his features—how human they seemed, and how they weren’t. The eyes were too still. The mouth too soft when he looked at you like that, worshipful and wrecked all at once.
You stood.
He flinched slightly like he thought you might leave again. But you didn’t.
You moved around the table and stood beside his chair, fingers brushing lightly against his shoulder.
“I don’t want you to be nothing,” you said. “Even if you think you’re mine.”
He tilted his head back to look at you. His eyes were glassy again—but not just from need.
“…Then what do you want me to be?”
You didn’t answer right away.
You just stared at him, slow and searching, like maybe there was something hiding behind his ribs that you hadn’t noticed before.
“Something real,” you said at last. “Something more than just needy and obedient.”
You leaned down.
Brushed a hand over his hair.
“I think whatever they tried to take from you… it’s still in there.”
He exhaled, sharp and shaky, like the words hurt somewhere deep.
Like they freed something too.
“Are you going to help me find it?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
You straightened. That same calm edge in your voice returned—but softer, tempered by something else. “I already started.”
⋆ ˚
The rest of dinner passed in a strange hush.
He kept glancing at you like he was trying to memorize the air between you. Like he didn’t quite trust that the moment was real—him, fed and wanted, not punished for needing more.
He finished the last bite slowly, his breathing still a little uneven. And when you stood to clear the plates, he followed with those same shadow-smooth movements, always one step behind, silent.
When you turned to face him in the doorway of the kitchen, he froze.
You studied him—warm and glowing under the low light, but his eyes looked wrong. Glossy. Dilated. His skin flushed, like the warmth was under his flesh and leaking out.
You reached up and cupped his cheek with your palm.
He leaned into it instantly.
"Come to bed with me," you said, voice low, calm.
His breath caught. His knees nearly did too.
You pressed a kiss to his forehead. It was hot—too hot.
He didn’t speak. Just nodded.
⋆ ˚
Later, you woke in the dark.
Your chest ached slightly—something heavy pressing you down.
You shifted.
Something moved.
There was a sound. A low, needy moan.
You blinked awake to find him curled between your thighs, head resting on your lower belly, arms caging your hips.
Sweat dampened his hair. His shirt clung to his back, soaked. His whole body trembled—small, helpless, uncontrollable tremors like something was trying to crawl out of his skin.
"H-Hey," you murmured, pushing your hand into his hair. "You okay?"
He groaned.
Not in pain.
It was… needy.
He rocked into you subtly, hips twitching against the mattress, breath coming in ragged bursts.
"You're burning up," you whispered, concern creeping in. "You might have a fever—"
"No," he choked out.
Your fingers stilled in his hair.
He shook his head against your body, breath hot where it hit the inside of your thigh.
“It’s not— I’m not sick. It’s heat. I know what it is now.”
You tensed slightly, confused. “Heat?”
He whimpered, the sound pitiful, but his body was grinding.
"I thought it was just obsession—just you—but it's in my blood. My skin. I need," he panted, teeth gritted.
“You should’ve told me,” you said, hand sliding to his shoulder. “Before it got this bad.”
“I didn’t know,” he snapped, but it was breathless, wet. “Didn’t know it would feel like this. Like—like I’m going to split open just to crawl into you.”
The silence between you stretched again, hot and trembling.
Then you whispered: “Get up.”
He froze.
You guided him up your body with firm hands until his face hovered above yours, wild and flushed and desperate.
“Let’s cool you down,” you said. “Before you burn a hole through me.”
You didn’t tell him what you were about to do.
You just slipped your hand between your bodies, your palm warm and steady against the thick, pulsing heat straining in his pants.
He choked out a sound—half whimper, half sob—and buried his face in the crook of your neck. You felt his breath catch, his body go stiff.
“Shhh,” you whispered. “I’ve got you.”
You rubbed him through the fabric first, slow circles that had his hips twitching, his teeth sinking into your skin like he was trying not to fall apart. The bulge was hot—unnaturally so—and soaked at the tip where his arousal leaked freely.
“I can’t—” he rasped, but you cut him off with a shush again, stroking him now, firm and sure.
“Yes, you can. Just relax.”
He whimpered again and rocked his hips up, greedy. Needy.
“Please,” he panted. “Please touch it—please, I’ll be good, I’ll—”
You slipped your hand under the waistband.
He cried out.
Not loud, but broken. Like it hurt to be given this.
You wrapped your fingers around him and started to pump, slow and tight. He was thick, flushed hot, every vein pulsing against your grip.
“I'm not gonna let you fuck me,” you murmured against his ear, lips brushing the shell. “But I’ll help you. Just this once.”
He was trembling. Writhing. Eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, too far gone to speak now.
You shifted down and dragged his pants down with one hand. His dick sprung free, slick and twitching.
“Stay still,” you said, and he whimpered again, so obedient, even now.
You leaned in and took him into your mouth.
He nearly screamed.
His hands scrabbled for something to hold, finally settling in your hair, but he didn’t pull—he just trembled, lips mouthing your name over and over like a prayer.
You bobbed your head slowly, letting your hand do most of the work, saliva and precum making the slide wet and easy. He was panting, gasping, and when he got too close, too wild, you pressed your palm against his lower belly and held him down.
He jerked—twitched—then came with a broken moan, hips bucking helplessly, spilling down your throat with so much heat it almost burned.
You stayed there a second longer, swallowing him down, soft and calm, until he stopped shaking.
Then you pulled away.
“Dirty boy,” you murmured, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand as you looked up at him.
He blinked at you, dazed, wrecked, tears drying in the corners of his eyes.
You leaned in and kissed his cheek.
“Go clean yourself up,”
Two days pass.
You try to keep things normal—whatever that means, with a creature like him under your roof, one who pants when you touch his arm and whines when you leave the room. But his restraint is slipping. Badly.
He follows you everywhere now.
Not just quietly like before. Not just waiting in the doorway or sitting nearby.
No—he’s pressed to you, constantly.
When you fold laundry, he’s behind you, rubbing himself against your ass with soft, desperate ruts. When you sit on the couch, he climbs into your lap and noses at your neck, whimpering like you’re the only air he can breathe.
The worst is when you cook. Something about seeing you over the stove drives him mad—he paws at you, breathing heavy, rutting his hips against your thigh until you shove him off with a sharp, “Down.”
And still he stares at you with wet eyes like a scolded dog in heat, leaking into his boxers, throbbing with the weight of it.
You try to hold the line.
But his need is growing.
Worse, it’s mutating into something more feral.
At the store, it becomes undeniable.
He walks behind you, head low, hoodie pulled up, his steps wrong—off-balance and twitchy like his body can’t decide what to do with itself.
He breathes through his mouth, short and fast, and stares at everyone like they’re a threat.
Or a witness.
You catch him staring at your legs. Then your hips. Then the slope of your throat when you tilt your head to grab a jar from the shelf.
His eyes go black.
"You're sweating," you mutter under your breath, touching his arm. "You okay?"
He leans into your touch like he’s starving. “Can we go home? Please.”
You check out fast.
⋆ ˚
The second the door closes behind you, he snaps.
You don’t even get your shoes off.
He lunges—no hesitation—grabs your waist and slams you into the nearest wall with a desperate growl muffled into your shoulder.
“Hey—!” you gasp, startled.
But he’s already rutting against you—grinding with the force of a man drowning.
“Need you,” he pants. “Please—I can’t—I’ve been good, haven’t I? I’ve been so good—”
You shove at his shoulders, but he’s bigger than you, heavier, and right now he’s stronger too. Not hurting you—just wild.
“Calm down,” you hiss.
“I can’t,” he moans. “Smell you—touched you all day—I need—”
He grabs your face, kissing you hard—sloppy, wet, messy—and you taste the frustration on his tongue, the days of aching and whining and trembling.
You break the kiss, panting. His dick is grinding against your stomach through his sweats, thick and leaking.
“Animal,” you mutter.
He nods.
“Yours,” he whines, breath shaking. “Please let me—please—”
Your grip tightens in his hair.
And for a second, you consider it.
You shove him back, hard. Not enough to hurt—but enough to tell him: no.
And that does it.
His eyes widen, something unhinges in his chest—and he breaks.
With a snarl, he lunges forward, lifts you like you weigh nothing, and starts toward the bedroom with a single, choked, "I'm sorry—I'm sorry—I can't—"
"Put me—down!" you snap, but your body’s already reacting—heat flooding your thighs, breath caught behind your teeth. Because you've never seen him like this. Not completely.
Not gone.
He kicks the door open.
Throws you on the bed.
You're scrambling up on your elbows to shout at him again when he grabs your legs and drags you back down to the edge of the mattress. His strength is brutal. He flips you over like you're nothing and shoves your hips up until you're on your knees, spine arched, face pressed into the blanket.
“Don’t think you can act like that,” he pants, “push me away—smell like that—and expect me not to—”
He tears your bottoms down. Snaps the waistband in his rush. You try to turn your head, say something—anything—but he’s already there.
Behind you.
Hot, flushed, leaking.
You feel the weight of it on your ass, thick and heavy, dragging over your skin.
“F-fuck—‘s too much—” he groans.
You flinch as his dick—not just long, but wide, too wide—grinds against your entrance. Wet with slick and precum. Hot like a fever.
You reach back blindly, touch his hip. “You’re gonna stretch me too much—”
“I know,” he whimpers, voice ragged with guilt and craving. “I’ll go slow—I’ll—fuck, I can’t—I’m sorry—sorry—”
He doesn’t go slow.
He grabs your hips and thrusts in hard, stuffing the tip past your entrance, and your breath leaves you.
"Shit—!" you cry, fingers clawing at the blanket as your body stretches wide to accommodate him. It hurts—but good, deep, sharp, searing with pressure.
He keeps moving.
Not all the way in—just these shallow, frantic thrusts, rutting at your entrance like an animal trying not to break its toy.
His voice is cracked and frantic.
“I missed it—I missed your heat—I missed your smell—don’t tell me no again—please—”
His teeth found your neck, biting, sucking, leaving bruises blooming like dark flowers under your skin.
You’re dripping.
His size swallowed you whole, filled every inch until you thought you’d cry from the stretch.
He slams forward again—deeper this time—and you swear the breath gets knocked right out of your lungs.
"You're—so big—" you gasp.
"Yeah?" he pants, delirious. "Too much? H-hurts, doesn't it? You're too small—fuck, you’re perfect—"
He’s shaking.
Your legs tremble from how deep he’s hitting. Your pussy flutters around him, trying to mold to the impossible stretch.
"H-hey, slow down" you rasp.
He didn’t listen. His hips snapped into you fast and brutal, driving inside you with a hunger that knocked the breath out of your lungs. The room smelled like sweat and something bittersweet and him—feral, real, and alive.
His hands slammed down on either side of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. The force pinned you to the bed.
You swallowed hard, chest heaving, legs spreading wide for him.
He slammed into you faster—deeper. The stretch burned, the fullness screamed, but you clenched tight around him, dragging out his groans like prayers.
He pulled you back by your hair and kissed you then—hard, wild—tongue sliding over your lips, teeth grazing your jaw.
Then—
You feel it.
The swell.
Thick and round, nudging the edge of your cunt, threatening to lock you together.
He groans into your back. “Let me—let me knot you—need it—need to stay.”
You jerk away. "You knot me, and you’re gonna rip me."
He moans like your voice is pleasure, grinding harder, chasing it anyway.
His hands roamed your body, claws scraping skin as he fucked you with a desperate, filthy worship that made you feel like a goddess—and like prey all at once.
He spoke, voice broken, “please—please let me cum inside you.”
You nodded, tears stinging your eyes, chest tight. “Cum for me.”
His dick throbs. He’s leaking inside you, dripping down your thighs. His forehead presses into your shoulder blade. He huffs, shudders
Then snaps his hips forward once, hard—and goes still.
You feel it.
Heat floods inside you. You gasp as his load pours in—thick, heavy, and never-ending—while his body trembles above yours.
“Fuck—fuck—fuck,” he groans, humping in place, locked against you with a needy whimper.
You glance back, breathless, flushed, and say coolly: “Tch, unbelievable.”
He flinches like it hit.
You reach back and give his hair a tug. “Go clean yourself up.”
♱ Pairings: Jake, aged!up Neteyam, aged!up Lo'ak, Quaritch x reader.
♱ Summary: The Sully's come to your tribe, Hulanta, for uturu. When they came to the swamp, they didn't know the Tsahik was going to make their heads spin. Within her presence, it'll be the close they'll ever get to Eywa.
♱ Tags: Manipulation, infidelity, marking, scenting, blood, reader is a maneater, reader is morally-grey, wet dreams, masturbation, p in v, cunnilingus, praise-kink, reader will be degrading Quaritch, old men complaining and competing, father at competition with sons, sons at competition with father, tonguing them down, men groveling.
Part 4 ★ "The Ambassador Program"
There’s one man from Quaritch’s past that unites negative emotions within you, even after years of not seeing him. Charles Stringer.
You were back in your 9 year old body. Your back is curled, your legs folded as you sit on a circular rug. A mountain of building blocks are in front of you. A dreamwalker was kindly talking to you. She pointed at the blocks, trying to get you to play with them. She sat kneeling on the floor. She wore the same outfit you see the other skypeople wear. You had stains of red on you, streaked across your face. Your dad’s red blood stained your blue skin.
Your ears perked up as you heard movement behind you. You looked back. Two figures stood behind a two way window. Although you could only see your reflection, you could hear their muted voices from behind the glass.
“We found her at one of our extraction sites.” A soldier said.
“What about the parents?” Stringer asks.
“The Father is dead. We shot him when he tried to escape with her.” The soldier says.
“Any others?” Stringer’s eyes never left your figure.
“There were a few other adult na’vi. But they were nothing we couldn’t handle.” The soldier shrugged.
Stringer nodded, the side of his index finger pressed against his lips. His arms were crossed. He made eye contact with you through the two way window. You turned your head to the skywalker who started demonstrating how the blocks work.
Stringer came into the room, he walked next to you. He squatted down to your level. Stringer signaled the skywalker to leave, his eyes never leaving you. You felt a chill go down your spine, goosebumps crawled along your skin. You shifted away from him, a feeling of unease settling in the pit of your stomach.
“We should get you cleaned up huh? You’re quite dirty.” Stringer trailed the back of his knuckle across your cheek.
You flinched back, glaring at him. You hissed, baring your teeth at him. Stringer held his hands up in defeat.
“Feisty.” Stringer chuckled, a dark look in his eyes.
You tried to scoot further away from him, but his hand reached out and caught your tail. You made a groan of discomfort, wiggling away. Stringer’s hand yanked painfully on your tail, his hand too close to your butt. You grunt in pain, kicking at him. Your foot clipped him in the leg.
“Enough of that.” String says with agitation, slapping your foot away.
Stringer pulled you closer to him by your ankle.
“You are our first member of The Ambassador Program of the Eastern Front. You should be grateful.” Stringer said.
[ ! ] TAP, or the Ambassador Program, was a covert initiative by the Resources Development Administration (RDA) on Pandora, established in 2146. It involved the abduction of five young Na’vi children. ( — Source: Avatar Frontiers of Pandora )
At this point the TAP program wasn’t established within the Western Front. Stringer thought that if he could use you, train you to be an obedient foot soldier. The board signed off on a project to convert na’vi children into RDA soldiers. Stringer wanted the board to see that there was a possibility of creating a boarding process to teach na’vi to be more human.
Stringers project did not succeed with you. Every lesson that was supposed to be taught to you, you’d rebel. Every adaptation you refuse, and any time someone of the RDA stepped in to show you how to use technology you’d destroy it. The only lesson you’ve ever been proficient in, was hand to hand and weapon combat training.
“The fuck is that?!” Stringer yelled.
“The alarm sir. The na’vi somehow got her hands on a grenade and blew up the command center.” A guard says.
“Wh-what?? Well where is she now?!” Stringer screams.
“I don’t know, sir.” The guard explains.
“Well go find her then. Get out of my face and go do your damn job.” Stringer shouts, stabbing his finger into the soldier's chest.
You kept low, crouching as you maneuver around the debris you caused. You snuck into Stringer’s office, searching through his files to look for anything that could open the exit. Your eyes light up when you see what’s on his wall. You stood to your full height, wonder clear in your eyes as you walked to his mantle. You reached up, pulled the device from the wall. You look down at the possession in your hands, trailing your finger along the length of end. You slid it out of its scabbard.
The handle is decorated with black threads that are crossed in layers like diamonds. The blade is a slick silver, the metal dazzled with shimmers of unobtanium. You turned the sword so it was positioned on a tilt in your hand. The metal is a hybrid of human grade metal and unobtanium. Anger and disgust burned deep within your chest. Your fingers held a weapon that was forged by resources that were gathered through the actions of murder to get the unobtanium. You were going to kill Stringer with it.
Your ears sprouted as you heard the frantic footsteps of soldiers. They slammed the door open, and three soldiers came in with large guns. They surveyed the room, the tip of their guns wandering in different directions. You listened out for them from where you were crouched. Your back pressed into Stringer’s desk.
You leaped over the desk, you aimed your sword down before yanking it up, the side of the blade slicing the neck of a soldier. Blood splattered out the side of the soldier's neck, the blood flowing over their uniform. Your eyes widened in realization. To take a life is a lot easier than you used to think.
You flinched when the other two soldiers sprayed bullets at you. You ducked down, blocking your body with the soldier you just killed. Their bullets landed in the armor of the fallen soldier. You pushed the body forward, gaining on the soldier closest to you. You slid the sword through the corpse, the blade pierced through the chest and became lodged in the chest of the soldier you were pressing up against.
The soldier screamed in pain, her voice loud in your ears. Her eyes rolled back as her heart stopped. You jumped when a bullet flew past you. You yanked the sword out. You jumped out of the way when a spray of bullets flew at you. You ran out the room, barely dodging the bullets.
A bullet nicked your calf, causing blood to slip down your leg. You press your back into the wall, you hold the sword up, readying yourself. The soldier ran into the hallway, as their foot made it past the door frame you whipped your sword to their throat. Their body collapsed to the floor, their head was lobbed off their shoulders, falling to the floor.
You knelt down, grabbing the fabric of the combat pants. You rolled the corpse on the side, you dragged their key card out of the pocket. You jumped up, running through the hallway. As you went, your blue skin caught the eye of Stringer. He pointed at the monitor.
“Get her! Do not let her escape!” Stringer screams.
The soldiers started flowing in beside you, appearing from behind corners, popping out from behind walls. They shot neutralizing shots at you. You rounded a corner, you pushed over a metal shelf of parts. The shelve banged against the floor, all of the content falling to the floor. The doorway is successfully blocked. You could hear the screams of the soldiers, navigating how they were going to get to you. You didn’t spare any time, you used the id card, the door slid open. You blinked in pain when the sunlight bleached your eyes. You ran out, your ears picking up the whirling metal of an amp suit.
You sat on the floor of your hometree. You sat cross legged on the floor, your hands on your thighs. Your eyes are closed, easy breathes leaving your chest. You are meditating. As you meditate, your brain is able to look through the eyes of your people. Every task and every relationship, you could see and feel. Your body is vibrating, the outline of your body jittering.
You tapped into the spirit of Neteyam. You could feel the weight of his world, his worry for his siblings, his insecurities about his presence in his father’s life. His unsureness and unease living in an unfamiliar clan. But you could also feel the love he has for his siblings, his excitement when he discovers something new about the clan. His thoughtless arousal for you. He feels things very deeply.
Your body slowly starts to shift to being still. The tremors and vibrations faulted. When you opened your eyes, your mother was standing in front of you.
“You have a restless Toruk Makto and his mate standing outside of your kelutral.” She says.
You close your eyes for a moment before lazily opening them.
“Let them in.” You say.
Jake and Neytiri stared at your hometree in awe. It’s the biggest they’ve ever seen. It’s three times the size of the marui you provided them and their family with. Jake and Neytiri turned to the movement in front of them, their eyes snapped to your mother as she stepped out of your hometree. Your mother kindly bowed to Jake.
“Tsahik will see you both now.” Your mother says.
Jake slowly approached you. Neytiri is not far from his side. You sat with a table of food in front of you. Your other Hulanta were fluttering about, bringing you dishes and drinks to the table. You gestured your hand out to the mats on the opposite side of your table. Jake swiftly sat where you pointed. Neytiri slowly sat, her body stiff with discomfort.
“What is it that you’ve requested of me Toruk Makto?” You ask.
Jake cringes at the formality.
“You can just call me Jake.” Jake says lamely. “I don’t mean to come off ungrateful. But me and my family would like to be assigned to a different marui, or a kelutral.”
You took a controlled sip of tea, you swished it around in its cup.
“I can’t do that Toruk Makto. Every Hulanta must earn their position in this clan. If you want better accommodations, you must work for it. Honestly, I feel slightly insulted. I’m sure Ol’xma has told you there are no other marui for you.” You say.
In fact, you knew Ol’xma told him that. Because you knew everything Ol’xma says before he says it. Jake stares at you, determination shining in his eyes.
“What can I do to prove myself to you as Tsahik?” Jake asks.
“We hunt. Let me see the real you. I want to know if you truly earned the title, “Toruk Makto”, Jake.” You say, a mischievous smirk on your face. The pronunciation of his name was laced with your accent.
Jake’s ears perked in interest as they drank in the way his name rolled off your tongue. His eyes trailed down your face, his gaze stopped at your breasts before snapping back up to your eyes.
“I’ll prove why I am Toruk Makto.” Jake says, his voice challenging you.
Neytiri looked between the two of you in confusion, giving you a side eye. She understood every word spoken, but she felt as if she still missed context.
You and Jake stood before the Hulanta. The Sully’s and Spider stood at the front of the crowd.
”I, and Toruk Makto, will go on a hunt. He stands to prove his worth to the Hulanta. To validate his status as Toruk Makto.” You announce.
The Hulanta watched with approval. Ol’xma came to stand beside you.
“Your sister is ready.” Ol’xma says.
Jake turned towards you, his face looked betrayed.
“I thought it’d just be the two of us.” Jake says.
The idea of the two of you alone gave Jake a shameful feeling of excitement.
“It is. He’s referring to my other sister.” You say, your fingers fixing your poncho.
“Other sis-” Before Jake could finish,
A palulukan (thanator) emerged, its black and white body low as it wandered towards you. Jake immediately pushed you behind him, drawing his bow at the palulukan. Neytiri pulled Tuk behind her, training her bow on the creature. Neteyam joined the side of his mother, his bow aimed at the palulukan. Lo’ak stood protectively in front of Kiri, who gripped onto Spider. You held your hand to calm them, stepping out from behind Jake.
“It is okay. This is my sister. I am Palulukan Makto.” You say.
Jake lowered his bow. Jake held his arm out, signalling Neytiri and Neteyam to do the same. Neteyam dropped his bow, Neytiri was more hesitant, but inevitably pulled her bow back.
You stepped towards your sister. You rubbed the top of her head, gracing over the scar marks where one of her eyes were missing. Your sister pushed her hand into your palm, rubbing her skin against yours in affection. You turned your head to Neytiri.
“You used to be Palulukan Makto when you were Omatikaya. But you lost that mantle." You say, a sweet condescending smile on your face.
Neytiri's tail curled behind her in discomfort. She glared at you, poorly concealing the sneer she wants to show you. Neytiri wisely chose to stay silent. You hopped on the back of your sister.
“We must be on our way.” You say.
Jake swung his body on your palulukan. You rode off, your sister running through the humid, heated tropical underbrush of the swamp.
The three of you traveled until the sky began to darken. The humid air turned misty, and the grass below turned wet. The trees covered the sky from you, small spotlights of the moon shun through the spotty canopy of the tree leaves. The vines of the swamp slowed you down, your sister constantly getting wrapped in them. You did your best to assist, using your connection to Eywa to reduce the foliage.
“Tell me Jake. How’d you come to be an Avatar?” You ask.
“I was a part of the RDA. I came to Pandora and learned the way of the Omatikaya. I fell in love with nature, the people, the animals. But, none of that meant much compared to Neytiri. She was my everything when I came here, and then we had our kids.” Jake explains. “How about you? What’s the history of you being Tsahik?”
You continued directing your sister forward, you lifted your hand to move a branch out of the way. You took your time before opening your mouth.
“I was taken by the RDA.” You said.
Jake’s eyes widened, affronted. He tilts his head back.
“They killed my father and held me at a camp. I was supposed to be adopted into a program for na’vi children.” You say.
“They were trying to indoctrinate you?” Jake asks.
“Yes, Jake. But I escaped, I found my way back to my people. For all of the time I had been gone, the Hulanta thought I was dead.” You say.
“So how did you become Tsahik?” Jake asks.
“I’m the only one who’s good enough to be Tsahik. I’m the only one who can do what I can do.” You say, ominous.
Jake bit back his tongue, contemplating before sucking in a breath. His hand tightened around your waist. Jake tilts his head to the side, his eyes trailing the side of your face.
“So what can you do?” Jake asks.
You tilted your head, you didn’t look back though. Your eyes are shining with humor.
“What do you want me to do Jake?” You ask, your voice breathless.
Jake’s eyes trailed down your neck. His brain took him back to his dream where he wrapped his long fingers around the back of your neck. How he kissed the side of your neck and your collarbone. How good you looked in the grass, how gorgeous and dewy the skin of your perfectly carved body looked. The rich green glimmer of your body upon your blue skin.
Jake shook his head, dizzy as he took himself out of his stupor. Jake leaned back, caution buzzing inside of his head. Jake couldn’t stop his eyes. His eyes trailed down the column of your neck, the way your spine curved out from your back, Ewya your tail looked so delicious where it sat at your ass. Your ass is even more plump from where you sat on the saddle.
“Goddamn.” Jake whispered, his voice deep.
Ewya took her time with her. Jake thought to himself. Jake shifted uncomfortably, his dick hardening underneath his loincloth. Jake’s not supposed to feel this way for another woman. He has a mate, Neytiri. And what would his kids think of him fiending for the Tsahik of the village they’re seeking uturu with? Jake couldn’t help himself. Shame bubbled in his gut, the burn of his neck was hot from his embarrassment. He felt like an old pervert, but that didn’t stop his eyes from wandering.
“You’re starring Jake.” You tease.
Before Jake could stop himself.
“You look good.” Jake says.
Jake’s mouth clicks shut, his ears flattening to his head in shame. Why did he say that? He usually has control over his impulses. What Jake doesn’t know won’t kill him. The woman before him was manipulating every dark desire he has towards you. Jake is fun to mess around with. So easy to make fun of.
"I know. I always look good, Jake." You say, lazy as you shrug your shoulders.
You and your sister stop. You hop off of her back.
"It's getting dark. Let's set up camp and resume our hunt later." You pull off a bedroll from So'lxars back.
Jake swings his legs over, pushing himself off of So'lxars back.
"You take care of the fire, I'll lay out the bedrolls." You order.
"Okay." Jake nods, walking off past the tree line.
You watch his back as he goes, making sure his wide shoulders disappeared behind the hanging vines. You rolled out Jake's bedroll, you waved your hand over it. You whisper a chant, your purple eyes shine with a bright glow. You looked over at So'lxar who was giving you a judgmental look.
"You shouldn't be expecting me any less of me. Besides, you saw and smelled how he lusts for me." You said.
So'lxar rolled her eyes, she sat on her hind legs. She lifts one of her paws, licking at her arm, choosing to ignore you.
۶ৎ in which... neteyam is still learning how to adjust and live life with the metkayina. although he struggles to maintain his stable facade, he always finds himself slipping up whenever he was around you. especially when your hair is so soft and neteyam can't seem to keep his thoughts to himself.
🎧 ྀི neteyam x metkayina!femreader fluff ʚ 821 words ɞ neteyam helping you undo your braids like yes pls. neteyam is my man guys, i love him sm ─── ☘︎
the salt air and the constant sound of the waves against the reefs was something neteyam was starting to get used to. it had been a few months since his family had sought refuge in the village of awa’atlu, where the welcome had been enough to keep his family safe and comfortable.
admittedly, neteyam wasn’t exactly adjusting well. of course, he put up a good front. skillfully learning how to ride an ilu, how to hunt in the ocean, and how to help around the village by doing various tasks.
but even so, neteyam still felt like a fish out of water. literally. he felt the stares when he walked around the village, heard the whispers that would drift around about him and his family, still saw how the prejudice and assumptions caused hesitation between the metkayina. and the worst was the bullying. not to him, aonung and his gang of friends never tried to fool around with him. their targets had always been kiri and lo’ak.
and as much as neteyam had tried to play peacemaker, they truly never knew when to quit.
which is why as of late, he’s found himself taking strolls along the edge of the village. whether it was to clear his mind or to hide away from the crowd, neteyam wasn’t quite sure. but he quite liked the feel of the sand in between his toes and the peace he often finds.
as he turned a corner, neteyam slowed down his steps as his eyes focused on your figure. you were sitting by the rocks, letting the water splash over your legs as the waves crashed. your hands were brushing through your hair, pulling apart different strands and slowly undoing the braids in your hair.
neteyam found himself smiling at the scene, letting his feelings overcome his logic as he crossed the sand to make his way towards you.
“hey.”
you looked up from your hair, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. “hey.”
taking a seat beside you, neteyam studied you for a moment, a small furrow in his brows. “why are you undoing them? i thought you said that style was your favorite.”
“it is, but i thought i should let my scalp breath for a few days before i torture it again,” you say, taking out another small bead from your hair.
neteyam continued to admire you, his eyes following your delicate hands as they moved from one braid to the next, dropping the beads on a seashell by your side. “let me help you,” he says just then, before adding, “only if you're comfortable with it.”
“i’d love that.” you smile, your hands stopping for a moment as you move the seashell and place it closer to him. “you can drop the beads here.”
without needing to be told twice, neteyam started untying your braids. his fingers worked slow and careful, the small fear of accidentally tugging too hard or tangling your hair keeping him aware of all of your movements. but granted, you were moving far faster and hasher than he was, seemingly eager to get your braids out.
neteyam worked through braid after braid, working back the intricate patterns and placing the beads in your seashell. every now and again, neteyam found himself stopping to admire your hair, his fingers brushing through the strands just so he could revere it, taken aback by the softness.
he made sure his hands never lingered, stealing just a moment to gaze at your hair before moving on to the next braid. when he finished undoing the last one, he sat back at a respectable distance, admiring you and how you looked with your hair down.
staring at your reflection in the water, you looked satisfied with the outcome. you brush your fingers through your hair one more time, getting out the last tangles and knots before pushing all of your hair behind your shoulders.
“it looks beautiful like this.”
the words had slipped out of his mouth before his brain had even registered what he was saying, what he was confessing to you. when you turned your head to look at him, neteyam felt warmth rising in his cheeks, his eyes widening just a fraction. he thought you were going to laugh at him. but instead, a bright smile tore across your face, making the corner of your eyes crinkle.
oh.
his stomach and chest felt like a roaring current of embarrassment and bashfulness crashing against his heart. his palms felt sweaty, even though they were already wet from the rocks. his tail threatened to flick around—whether it was from excitement or from his nerves, neteyam didn’t care. he just didn’t need his tail exposing him further.
“thank you, neteyam.”
he returned your smile, albeit far more sheepishly. because in all honesty, his words weren’t what his heart was saying.
you look beautiful like this, was what neteyam truly wanted to say.
a/n: it's been a while since i've written anything but i thought i should get back into writing. i've been planning out my own novel butttt i haven't been brave enough to start writing it so i've retreated to writing tumblr fics hehehe
♱ Pairings: Jake, aged!up Neteyam, aged!up Lo'ak, Quaritch x reader.
♱ Summary: The Sully's come to your tribe, Hulanta, for uturu. When they came to the swamp, they didn't know the Tsahik was going to make their heads spin. Within her presence, it'll be the close they'll ever get to Eywa.
♱ Tags: Manipulation, infidelity, marking, scenting, blood, reader is a maneater, reader is morally-grey, wet dreams, masturbation, p in v, cunnilingus, praise-kink, reader will be degrading Quaritch, old men complaining and competing, father at competition with sons, sons at competition with father, tonguing them down, men groveling.
Part 3 ★ "The Infection"
Jake tossed and turned in the snonivi (hammock). His eyes clenched in his sleep. Neytiri, annoyed, reached out and slapped Jake on the arm as she tried to settle back to sleep.
Jake groaned in his sleep. When he turned in the hammock he awoke in a field of grass. Jake stood there stunned. His head turned from direction to direction, looking for signs of anything.
"I've been waiting."
Jake turns behind him. You stood there. Naked. Jake’s eyes trailed down your body, his mouth gaped. Jake felt the warm breeze along his skin. Jake looked down at himself. He is naked also.
"Come." You demanded.
You tugged his arm, pulling him after. Jake followed with no complaint, eager and willing Jake matched you step for step. Suddenly a lake appears. You dropped Jake’s arm, slipped into the waters, gesturing to Jake to follow. Jake hopped in after you, he reached out, playfully tugging your tail. You swung around, slapping his hand away, an endearing and shocked laugh leaving your mouth.
Jake reached for you again, needing to feel your skin. Jake grabbed your hips, he pulled you towards him. He tilts his head a bit to the side. You held his forearms, pulling yourself closer to Jake. Jake towered over you, a head taller. You reached your arms around his neck. Jake leaned down, kissing you. You used your fangs to nip his lips, slipping your tongue into his mouth. Jake moaned, picking you up by the back of your thighs. Jake wrapped your legs around his waist.
You moaned, elated, into his mouth. Jake dropped his lips open. You latch your tongue onto his fang, licking up to his top lip before dipping your tongue back into his mouth.
"You're so needy Jake." You panted, pressing your lips back onto his.
Jake moaned, his hand came up, cupping the back of your head. Jake kisses you on your collarbone, his thumb tracing the side of your neck.
"Yeah?" Jake asked, breathless.
"Yeah." You affirmed.
Jake slid his fingers around the back of your neck and pulled your head back, kissing his way down your jaw, grazing his fang over the column of your neck. Jake huffed with the heady smell of you overwhelming him. He needed more, Jake clenched your body possessively. He deserved more.
Jake dropped to his knees, taking you with him, placing your body on the soft grass of the ground. Jake ran his huge hand to your breast, he squeezed it, groaning at how perfect it fit in his palm. Neytiri’s never—before Jake could finish the thought, it disappeared. Like a mellow wave flushing away the corpse of a fish. Jake exhaled, his breath desperate and shaky.
"Tell me what you need, baby." Jake says.
You ran your fingers along the shaved side of his head, scraping your nails along his scalp under his locs. Jake moaned so needy and sweetly. You dropped your hand to the sides of his head. Your eyes blown, dark meadows of purple sucked him into the whirlpools they are.
"You need to wake up." You say.
Jake jerked awake. Neytiri awoke from the movement. Arousal pooled in her core when she felt his hard on against her ass. She reached back, running his fingers along his erection. Jake grabbed Neytiri's wrist.
"Baby no." Jake faltered. "I'm sorry."
Jake rolled out of the hammock. Neytiri sat up in alarm. Her eyes were worried as she watched Jake’s back as he left the marui
You slowly blinked your eyes, your long eyelashes fluttering before they opened. You smiled from where you laid on your bed. You pressed a coy finger against the corner of your mouth.
Filthy animal, panting and yearning for another woman while your wife sleeps next to you.
Jake felt a wave of guilt and humiliation that melted into arousal and desire as he listened to the voice in his head. Jake held a hand to his heavy heart. He felt tethered to you. Jake didn't know what he was going to do the next time he stood close to you.
You and the other Hulanta watch the Sully’s and Spider descend into the river.
“You must cross this river to finally be Hulanta.” You say simply.
Jake and Neytiri moved through the river, their balance steady. Neytiri held Tuk’s hand, guiding her alongside her. Behind them Neteyam wade through the water, the river water raised to his calves. Lo’ak and Spider wobbled through the uneven terrain of the mud below the water. Kiri had no problems. Her posture and balance are easy, already naturally balancing in the rough terrain the way a Hulanta would. Tuk tripped, nearly landing in the water. Before she could, an unexplainable force helped her regain balance.
“You’re moving too fast.” Spider says.
“Am not.” Lo’ak states.
“Is too.” Spider judges him, pointing a finger to his face.
Lo’ak shoved Spider’s shoulder. Spider wobbled before regaining his balance. Before Lo’ak knew it, Spider harshly shoved him. Lo’ak grunted in shock, falling into the rushing water of the river. Lo’ak pulled his hands out of the water, his hands and forearm were caked with mud.
Some of the mud was splattered on his face. Spider held his arms around his stomach, tilting over in a belly laugh. His face red as he bellowed out laughter. Much to Spider’s dismay, Lo’ak stood up, pushing Spider over. Spider groaned in disgust, he was also now covered in mud.
“Lo’ak!” Jake shouted.
Both Lo’ak and Spider turned towards Jake. Jake’s tail whipped from side to side in anger. Neytiri watched in fright. Tuk was giggling at Neytiri’s side. Neteyam and Kiri gave Lo’ak and Spider a sympathetic “you’re dead” look.
“If you’re done having fun, may you cross the river now?” You state from where you were standing.
Although you are standing at a distance, your voice somehow still carries over the loud rushing of the river. Spider quickly stands up, both Spider and Lo’ak rush to meet up with the rest of the Sully’s. When everyone was on the other side, Jake yanked Lo’ak by the arm.
“The hell are you doing boy?! These people let us into their village and this is how you respect that?!” Jake yells.
Lo’ak stood there scared and ashamed, his ears pulled back and his tail between his legs. Jake shook him before letting him go.
“I’ll deal with you later.” Jake states, ominous.
When the Sully’s and Spider reunited with the Hulanta. Jake steps directly to you.
“I apologize for my son and,” Jake held his hand towards the blonde pathetically. “Spider. We meant no disrespect by it.”
You looked behind Jake. Lo’ak held his arm in humiliation, Spider watched the ground. You held your hand up.
“If I was an elder, I’d probably punish you and your entire family.” You mutter, your voice neutral.
The Sully’s including Spider tensed.
“But I am not. I find the display to be amusing. Both Lo’ak and Spider are Hulanta.” You signed, “I see you”, before turning to your sister.
“We have a few tasks we need you to do.” Koa’s words were nothing short of a command.
Quaritch huffed as he pushed himself up. The mussels in Quaritch’s arm bulged as he lowered himself. He groaned as he did another set of push ups. His cell is built out of hard tree roots, isolated and blocking any communication with Lyle.
“Keeping yourself busy?” You ask.
Quaritch’s head whipped up to you. His heart rushed at the sound of your voice. You held a stone tablet with food on it. An arrogant smirk curled on his lips.
“Just waiting for you.” Quaritch says.
You walked to him, waving a hand. The root door swung open. You walked in, door closing behind you, placing the food down on a table that stood in the middle of the cell.
“What typa trick is that?” Quaritch asks.
“What trick?” You ask.
“Are you some type of wizard or something?” He asked.
You shrug, a “perhapse” leaving your mouth.
“Hungry?” You ask.
“For many things.” Quaritch’s voice was thick with arousal. His eyes trailed your body.
“Show me.” You command.
Quaritch paused mid-push up. Quaritch watched your eyes, looking for any deceit. Your body language didn’t change, your face looked intrigued. Quaritch pushed himself to his knees. He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his camo pants and pulled his dick out. Quaritch still watched you. Like a predator recognizing a predator.
You tilt your head, watching the way his precum beaded at his tip. You smiled, humored by how pretty his dick looks. His dick held thick veins and a beautiful ombre of purple to blue. You stalked him as you drew closer. You reached out, gripping him by the jaw. You tilted his head back, watching over his face. You pushed your thumb to his lip, pushing his top lip up. You nudge the tip of your thumb into his fang.
Quaritch let out an airy low growl, he resisted the impulse to nip at your fingers. He poked out his tongue, licking over your thumb. His eyes staring into yours.
“You’re doing so good.” You praise. “Touch it.”
Quaritch reached down, taking his big dick in his huge hand. He stroked his dick slowly before speeding up.
“You watching sweetheart?” Quaritch asks.
“Of course.” You affirmed.
You watch his fist speed up.
“What is in your mind?” You whisper.
“What? You?” Quaritch choked when your finger tips met his temples.
Your eyes closed, your eyeballs rolling under your eyelids as you searched his mind. You could feel his deep desire, his arousal, his confusion, the thrill. Your eyes scrunched in confusion, born in Texas, United States. The skypeople world. Miles “Spider” Socorro is his son, you could see the purple link of Quaritch’s heart to Spider’s. Images flashed behind your eyes as you watched the series of events he went on to commit throughout his time working for the RDA. You retracted yourself from Quaritch’s mind, subconscious, and soul.
Quaritch slumped towards you. His body and spirit is devoid of energy. You held his head to your stomach, running a finger over his ear before pushing his head back. You stare deep into his eyes, watching as they roll towards you numbly. You spoke clearly, your voice embedding themselves into his soul.
“Touch yourself. Get off to the feeling of how much you crave me. You need me. There isn’t a woman who could ever compare to the being I am. When I release you, you’ll dedicate your entire existence to come back to me.” You spoke, feeding your affirmations into his mind,
You watch him absorb every command you delicately place in his head. The beginning stage of his brainwashing, changing the foundation of his basic being.
Quaritch’s focus singled down to getting himself off. He was abusing himself in a short sighted mission to please you. He was drooling out of the corner of his mouth. You drop his head from your hands. You clenched your fist. You draw your hand back, slapping him across the face.
Quaritch groaned, his dick made slick sounds as he jerked himself off faster. You dig your nails into his jawline. You tilt his head back. You dip down, pressing your lips against his. Quaritch kissed you back, he licked into your mouth. You moan into his mouth, you draw your hand down, painfully twisting his nipple under his shirt.
Quaritch hissed in pain, but stayed where he was kneeling. He made no attempt to pull away, he actually leaned closer. You yanked yourself away from him, removing your body from his.
“Wait- come back.” Quaritch begged.
You tilted your head to the side, a gleeful look in your wide eyes, a cruel wicked smile spread on your lips.
“Take your pants off.” You command.
“Whatever you say.” Quaritch says.
Quaritch stood and dug his fingers into the waist line of his pants. He slowly pulled it down, making a show of uncovering his thick thighs and his long dick. Quaritch watched you the entire time, you watched him back, your eyes floating down each inch of skin being revealed.
You dropped your ass on the table, leaning back on it. You held your finger out, curling it. You signaled for him to come closer. Quaritch walked right up to you, taking up all of the room between your thighs. Quaritch bent down, pressing his lips onto yours. You reached your hand up, you curled your hand around the back of his head.
You tilted your head back, deepening the kiss. Quaritch tilted his head to the side, your lips sliding more comfortably. His huge hand wrapped around the back of your neck, gripping it. He wretches your head back with the grip he has on your neck.
Quaritch's eyes ran over your face. He took in your blown out eyes, your slightly swollen lips, he watched the way your breasts raised and fell with each pant you made. Quaritch’s huge hand came up to your tit, his hand engulfing your chest. Quaritch licked back into your mouth before pulling his lips back. His fingers tease your nipple, rolling it between the two of them before he rubbed his thumb over the nub.
“Damn you’re so fucking pretty.” Quaritch says. He tilts your head to the side, he gives you a kiss on the side of your mouth. “So fucking sexy.” He tilted your head back and pressed a tender kiss on the column of your neck. “And so fucking sweet.”
Quaritch’s hand went to your thighs, he roughly pulled them wider. You had to tilt your hips up to accommodate how wide he is pulling your legs open. Your back is arching so that you can keep an arm around his shoulder. Quaritch's hands go to your waist.
“Can't wait can you?” Quaritch asks.
“For what?” You ask, tilting your head up and giving him another kiss.
“For my dick. To have me fuck you, huh?” Quaritch says against your lips, he pressed his lips back into yours.
Your finger trailed over the back of his ear. You nipped his lip. Quaritch chuckles, nipping your lip back. Quaritch slowly slid your loincloth down until it dropped to the floor. Quaritch slid to fingers in you, palm right side up, thumb on your clit. Quaritch rubbed the pad of his thumb over the bulb.
“I think she likes it. She loves me playing with her.” Quaritch's voice is breathless.
“Nah.” You tease.
“No?” Quaritch laughs.
“She's just being nice.” You gasp into his mouth when he flicks your clit. You jolt, your thighs tensing.
“Then she's being really kind. You’re so fucking wet. Filthy girl. Look at how you're squirming from just my fingers.” Quaritch says.
Quaritch grabs your leg, wrapping it around his waist.
“You're just too fucking easy.” You say past a moan.
Quaritch’s face held a smirk. Quaritch pulled his fingers out, he wrapped his hand around his huge dick and pumped it a few times before pushing his tip into you. You threw your head back, moaning.
“Yeah, take me just like that.” Quaritch said through clenched teeth. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Yeah? Just keep squeezing me like that. Perfect.”
“Fuck Quaritch.” You moaned.
Quaritch’s hand snakes towards your ass. He grips your ass cheek, he squeezes it and lifts you slightly off the table, you were leaning all of your body weight onto his chest. Quaritch’s other hand presses into the table as he thrusts into you. You bite Quaritch’s collar bone, digging your teeth into his skin. Quaritch moans before forcing it into a groan.
Quaritch’s hand left the table, moving down between your thighs. Quaritch rolled his finger over your clit, he pinched it lightly before rubbing it. You moan, you moved your face over his, watching his eyes intensely. Quaritch looked into your eyes in a trance.
“Faster.” You demand.
Quaritch sped his hips up. His hips snapped back and forth, his fast heavy thrust forced the table beneath you to slide back a bit.
“How do you feel, cupcake?” Quaritch asks.
You cringe at the nickname which was quickly forgotten when he finally hit your g-spot. You yelped out a moan, your fingernails biting into his shoulder, raking up a line of skin.
“Amazing-ah. Quaritch, mng keep going.” You huffed for a bit of breath. “It’s so good.” The end of your sentence went high pitched.
“I got you, yeah.” Quaritch splayed his huge hand over your back. “Just keep taking me.”
Your toes and tail curled as you came. Quaritch pressed his face into your shoulder, moaning pathetically as he felt your pussy flutter around his big dick. Quaritch threw his head back, grunting as he fucked you harder, you felt his dick pusle inside of you before he came. You huffed, your chest rising and falling, trying to catch your breath. You put your hand to Quaritch’s forehead.
“Rest.” You command.
Immediately Quaritch slumps over, his body falling to his knees, his head pressed to your stomach. You ran your fingernails through the short hairs on the back of his head. You’ve successfully implanted your seed inside of him. You could already see the mycelium (a fungi-like growth) infecting every part of his body. You gripped his shoulder’s possessively.
fanfic isn't an act of activism by the way. it's a fun hobby. writers write whatever they want for themselves as their silly little getaway/self-care. if you want "more representation" of something in fanfics, then you write fanfics about that thing you want. nobody is stopping you. but saying other fanfic writers as a whole are "the problem" or are "to blame" for "not including xyz" or "not writing about xyz" just isn't how fanfics and hobbies work.
Summary: Lo'ak asks you to do a Black American hairstyle on him. During the process, Neteyam discovers you've been teaching Lo'ak Black American slang.
Tags: Literally nothing but pure fluff.
★ "Lo’ak Drabble"
“Your neck is going to hurt from this.” You say.
“I’ll be fine. As long as you make my hair look as good as Neteyam’s.” Lo’ak says.
“It will, because I’m doing it.” Your voice is confident.
You anticipated Lo’ak neck hurting from the awkward angle of doing his cornrows with your human body, you didn’t account for Lo’ak being tenderheaded.
“Ow, ow, ow. You're pulling too roughly.” Lo’ak cried.
You popped him on the side of the head.
“Stop wiggling, you’re going to make me braid sloppy.” You hissed.
If you were in your Avatar body, your tail would be swinging in agitation.
“Hey, yawntu.” Neteyam says, entering your bedroom.
He had a tablet of food being carried in his hands.
“Thank you, babe. Place it over there.” You pointed your ragtail comb towards the bedside table.
Neteyam bent over and placed the food where you directed him. Neteyam stood to his full height, his head tilted to the side. He gave Lo’ak a once over.
“Looking good bro. Almost as good as mines.” Neteyam teases.
“Bro, tell your mate she’s pulling too hard. She won’t listen to me.” Lo’ak moaned.
Neteyam rolled his eyes with a head shake.
“She did my hair too bro, when she did mine it was just fine.” Neteyam says with a shrug. “You’re just sensitive. You’ve always complained about getting your hair braided, even when you were a baby.”
“It’s alright baby, we’re almost done.” You say to Lo’ak affectionately.
Neteyam’s ears pin back, he crosses his arm as he glares at you.
“Baby?” He asks.
“Thank you sista.” Lo’ak says.
Neteyam gives Lo’ak a bewilderment.
“When did you start calling her “sista”?” Neteyam asks.
“Since she taught me. She says back on Earth, all of the Black Americans call each other ‘sista’ and ‘brotha’ even though they aren’t related.” Lo’ak explains.
Neteyam gives you a betrayed look.
“You’ve never told me this.” Neteyam pouts.
You roll your eyes.
“It never came up because you don’t call your mate sista or brotha.” You explain.
Neteyam looked reassured, he leaned over to give you a kiss on the head.
“Eww.” Lo’ak shames.
Neteyam chuckles.
“Shut up, skxawng. You’d be this way if you had a mate.” Neteyam says.
Lo’ak rolls his eyes.
“Na-uh.” Lo’ak denies. “Men like me, have swagger.”
Neteyam’s eyes widened.
“Swa-gger?” Neteyam felt the word on his tongue.
“Yeah, swagger.” As Lo’ak says the word he moved his hands outward like he was framing the word. “She taught me that.” Lo’ak juts his thumb back towards you.
“Okay, enough. How about we take a look at your finished braids.” You say, passing him a mirror.
Lo’ak moved the mirror from angle to angle.
“You look good bro.” Neteyam says, pushing Lo’ak’s shoulder.
Lo’ak smiles.
“Look’s good, thank you sista.” Lo’ak says, amazed.
“Always brotha.” You say.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
Neytiri's eyes widened when Lo’ak stepped into the hometree. Neytiri came up to Lo’ak, she gave his head a once over. Jake sat on the floor, carving out an arrow head.
“She did such a good job.” Neytiri praises.
Tuk came running up to Lo’ak.
“No fair! Take me to her to get my hair done like yours.” Tuk whine.
“Fine, I’ll take you to Neteyam’s little scientist to get your hair braided.” Lo’ak says with a mock voice
Tuk jumped in excitement.
“Let me go get my beads!” Tuk shouts, running off.
Tuk came back, running past Lo’ak.
“I’m out, we’ll be back before dark pops.” Lo’ak waved, walking out of the hometree.
Jake’s head snapped up, watching Lo’ak’s back as he left.
Neteyam's Drabble — The original behind this drabble.
Summary: You wanted to try a Black American hairstyle on Neteyam.
Tags: Literally nothing but pure fluff.
★ "Neteyam Drabble"
You looked up when you heard the lab doors open. Neteyam walked in. He had a cut across the chest.
“What happened?” You ask.
“Nothing too serious. Lo’ak, the skxawng was supposed to be practicing his shooting. Him and Spider started arguing and Lo’ak missed his shot. It nearly caught me.” Neteyam explained, his voice edged with irritation.
You hummed, your eyebrows squinted in concern. You held your arm out, gesturing to the stool near your desk.
“Sit down and I’ll take a look at it.” You say.
“Thank you my little scientist.” Neteyam says.
You shook your head. Neteyam walked to the stool, settling down onto it.
“I don’t know why you come here to be patched up. I’m a scientist not a doctor. You should be at the healing tents.” You said, an ironic smile on your lips.
“If I do that, they’ll tell Dad. Then Lo’ak gets in trouble.” Neteyam shrugged.
“Sometimes I wonder if Jake ever gets tired of yelling at his own reflection.” You say to yourself.
Neteyam’s ears draw back in confusion.
“Nevermind.” You say with a wave of your hand. “Here.”
You dab a cotton ball onto Neteyam’s chest, gingerly cleaning the cut. Neteyam watched you from under his eyelashes. The size difference between the two of you couldn’t be any more stark. You spread ointment across the wound, your eyebrows pinching in concern when Neteyam would hiss in pain.
“There, you’ll be healed in no time.” You say, putting the ointment away.
Neteyam tilts his head, a boyish smile on his face. He sat there awkwardly, covertly trying to stay with you a little longer.
You watched him, amused, out of the corner of your eye. You walked between his legs, brushing a strain of braid over his ear. Neteyam watched you closely, his tail slowly waving in content. He placed his huge hands on your hips, leaning up and planting a kiss on your lips.
“I want to do your hair.” You say.
Neteyam perked up at the idea. His eyes shining with interest.
“What’re you thinking?” Neteyam asks.
“Back on earth, I used to do my little sister's hair all the time. Like how you’re an Omatikaya on Pandora, on Earth, I’m a Black American. Black Americans have a cultural hair style we do called cornrows. I’d like to try it out on you.” You explained.
Neteyam sat up intrigued, his tail slapping around showing his excitement.
“Of course. I’m curious to learn more about your Earth cultures.” Neteyam says.
“Well, it’s less of an “Earth” culture.” You signed quotation marks with your fingers. “It’s only a Black American thing.”
Neteyam’s eyes widened with enlightenment.
“Come.” You say, pulling Neteyam towards your room.
Neteyam bent down to avoid hitting the door frame. He sat down when you pushed him onto the floor by your bed.
“I’ll get into my Avatar body so that it’s less taxing on me.” You say.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
Neteyam sat between your legs, he leaned his back against your knees as you worked your fingers through his hair. You run your ratstail comb through his scalp, you glide gel onto his scalp, your fingers working to twist his hair into braids. You played around with the parts, instead of giving him straight backs, you have him curves. Your back was aching with strain but you finished it.
You pulled his head to the side, making sure the parts are clean. You wrap your hands around his neck, pulling his head back. Neteyam has his head leaned back onto your lap, his eyes staring up into yours. You dipped down, placing a kiss on his lips. Neteyam smiled, kissing your lips a few times before you pulled yourself back. You reach over to your bedside table.
“Look.” You say, placing a mirror in his hand.
Neteyam took the mirror gratefully, holding it up. Neteyam turned his head side to side, observing the perfect lines and parts.
“I love it yawne.” Neteyam praises.
You wrap your arms around his shoulder, bending down and kissing his cheek. You lay your jaw on your forearm, staring at him through the mirror.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
Lo’ak stared in astonishment when he saw Neteyam’s new hair style.
“Who did your hair bro?” Lo’ak asked, amazed.
“Ma yawntu.” Neteyam says, a shy smile on his face at the thought of you.
“Can you ask if she can do mine next. It looks amazing.” Lo’ak says.
Neytiri was walking with a basket of fabric, she did a double take when she saw Neteyam.
I really like when people write older readers in x reader, idk why
"Big age gap" "college student reader" "19/50" fuck that porno shit, man, give me a reader who's in their thirties, forties even, give me joint pain and wrinkles and gray hairs
"But that's not relatable at all!!! I'm not forty!!!" Well, neither are you a fucking Avenger, are you? So just roll with it
♱ Pairings: Jake, aged!up Neteyam, aged!up Lo'ak, Quaritch x reader.
♱ Summary: The Sully's come to your tribe, Hulanta, for uturu. When they came to the swamp, they didn't know the Tsahik was going to make their heads spin. Within her presence, it'll be the close they'll ever get to Eywa.
♱ Tags: Manipulation, infidelity, marking, scenting, blood, reader is a maneater, reader is morally-grey, wet dreams, masturbation, p in v, cunnilingus, praise-kink, reader will be degrading Quaritch, old men complaining and competing, father at competition with sons, sons at competition with father, tonguing them down, men groveling.
Part 2 ★ "Uturu Granted"
Koa stepped forward. Her violet eyes observed each Sully with indifference and grace. She was guarded by two rows of warriors who held spears. Her hands clasped together, she walked to the Sully’s as if she was gliding among water. She once again looked them over. Categorizing each flaw silently.
“You ask for Olo’eykte?” Your sister’s voice was light, but firm.
“Yes.” Jake says, his voice desperate.
Jake puts his fingers to his forehead before extending towards Koa. The other Sully’s including Spider did the same.
“I am Jake Sully. This is my muntxate (wife), and these are my eveng (kids).” Jake pointed to all of his family members, introducing their names. “And this is Spider.” Jake says blankly.
Spider gave an awkward wave.
“The skypeople, they’ve attacked our home. We seek uturu with the people of Hulanta.” Jake says.
“UTURU??” A person in the crowd screeches, in bewilderment.
All of the Sully’s, including Spider, side eyed the Na’vi who screamed. Koa watched over the Sully’s without a care in the world. Her body and tail stayed neutral, her eyes were devoid of any interest.
“How could you be of use here?” Your sister asks.
“We’ll prove ourselves. We’ll learn the way of the Hulanta.” Jake says, gesturing to his chest.
Koa reached her hand up to her hair, she used the back of her hand to slide her braids over her shoulder.
“Being as that may be. Ultimately it is not up to me to decide if your family gets to seek uturu here or not.” Koa's voice is polite, strategically hiding the void of emotion in her tone.
As if summoned by Ewya herself. You appeared from behind your sister, who you were standing behind the entire time. The Sully males’ eyes widened. Jake's eyes were hungry to ravage each and every inch of your body. Neteyam’s chest heaved up and down slowly, his ears twitching. His tail snapping from one place to another, his tail slapping Lo’ak once as he watched your body. Lo’ak didn’t flinch at the sting of his brother’s tail slapping his thigh. Lo’ak clenched his bottom lip between his teeth as he felt himself become entranced with your beautiful figure.
Your body is ethereal and exotic. The mere existence of you lulled them like a blessed song. Their eyes drunk the sight of your striking skin, the moisture of your hair, the way your lips are plump. You walked forward with grace, your body moving with confidence and authority. You looked over them all, stepping ever closer.
Jake’s tail swirled in pleasure as the scent of you overwhelmed him. Neteyam’s body went taut as he breathed you in. Lo’ak’s tail swung in interest, painfully slapping Neteyam in awe. Neteyam didn’t react, his own tail swung wildly.
You gingerly grabbed Neytiri’s tail, sliding your fingers over it. Neytiri gasped when your skin met hers, she felt a cold shiver wane down her spine. Neytiri, somewhat affronted, uncomfortably snatched her tail away from your hand. You signed her “I see you” before your eyes tracked Kiri, who was wrapped in a netted shaw. You pulled her hand towards you. You looked at all five fingers. You gave her a speculative look before dropping her hand. The moment your skin touched her she felt an electric zip through her, the feeling emulsified in her brain, zipping down her kuru. She stared at you in awe, her brain lacking the ability to understand the emotions her body is going through. You also signed her, “I see you.” in the most demure of ways.
You moved to the otherside, somewhat coyly dancing around Jake, gracing him with only a side eye glance. The moment your eyes met for a glimpse he felt the air in his lungs leave. His knees felt weak as he watched you. You reached out, taking his hand. Jake felt like a force hit him as he felt a punch unite in his gut. Ewya, he was dissolving into a mess at the mere sight and scent of you. You were even more gorgeous up close. You pulled it up, looking over all fingers. You turn your head to the crowd.
“He is a skywalker.” Your voice did not raise, you spoke simply.
There were resounding gasps and mutters around the clan. Jake felt a foul shift in his mood, he felt a sour emotion of mortification. Jake has never felt this ashamed of his state until now. To spite you, Neytiri hissed at you. Jake’s head spun as he was quickly forced out of his element by you.
Despite his humiliation, he savored the feeling of your skin on his and his chest burned with longing when you dropped his wrist. Jake’s instinct was to hold onto you, but an unexplainable force stopped him. Someone in the crowd took it upon themselves to look at Jake’s hand before turning to look at their own. Shock united among their faces before looking back at the Sully’s. Somehow, this burning disgust built up in his chest. His eyes darken as his hand shot out to hold his hand in front of Neytiri’s chest.
“I apologize for her.” Jake said, his head nodded to his wife.
“Do not apologize for me.” Neytiri hissed.
With ignorance towards her words Jake pushed his voice past hers.
“It was a long ride. She’s really tired.” Jake apologizes.
Neytiri huffed a frustrated breath. Your eyes turned fully to Neytiri.
“My husband was Toruk Makto.” Neytiri expels.
Jake cringes, looking to you before his eyes go back to his wife. Neytiri’s eyes searched for yours.
“We ask for uturu.” Neytiri reiterated.
“I meant no disrespect by it.” You lazily shrug. Your voice is simple.
Neytiri, feeling somewhat embarrassed, takes a step back. Jake sensing an opportunity closed in on you, he opened his mouth to speak. Before Jake could get closer a warrior Hulanta stepped in front of you. Jake pulled his hands to the side of him.
“We’ll do anything to seek uturu with the Hulanta people.” Jake says, his voice shaky.
You gave an uncommitted hmm. You moved to the Sully boys. They tensed up. Neteyam gave you a janky awkward “I see you.” To his side Lo’ak was still amazed, his jaw squeezed with effort. Neteyam nudged Lo’ak with his elbow. Lo’ak jumped before placing his fingers on his forehead, his muscles tense as he extends his fingers toward you. Before his hand could drop, you grabbed it. Lo’ak gasped, biting down on his tongue to not moan. You turned his hand back to look at his palm before turning so that the back of his hand faced you.
You blessed him with a pretty smile, deliberately shy. Lo’ak felt his lung collapse from the amount of air that left him. It was just a tiny little smile and it ignited a deep burning jealousy within Jake and Neteyam. You signaled “I see you” to Lo’ak. You made intentional eye contact with Neteyam.
Neteyam’s tail whipped, feeling like a prey that’s been put in a trap with its predator. A predator that had no intention of letting it escape. Your shy smile for Lo’ak turned into a flirtatious one. You carefully hid it from his eyes. To you. He has barely earned that. You tilted your head to the side, slowly trailing your finger down his chest, stopping just above Neteyam’s belly button.
Neteyam’s body shook with effort. He let a shaky breath escape his lips, his eyes wide. His eyes are entranced as he watches the small color of pink peek out from your mouth to shyly lick over your lip before being hidden by them. You gave him an “I see you”, before walking away. Neteyam felt cold when your presence wasn’t within two centimeters of him. Neytiri and Kiri visions were hidden by the bodies of Jake and Lo’ak. But Jake and Lo’ak saw everything. An emotion of disdain crossed their features for Neteyam.
You once again make eye contact with Neteyam. No hesitation in your contact. You are mine. A possessive, earnest pride built in both you and Neteyam.
You knelt down, running a hand over Tuk’s head who shivered with glee. A giddy emotion built up in her chest. She became somewhat shy as she gave you covert, “I see you”.
Last but not least. You reluctantly gave a once over to Spider. He was a silly looking creature. His blonde dreads stood out. They were very wild, almost displaced when compared to Jake’s locs. You have mixed emotions about Spider but you kept up your act to conceal your true intentions. You gave him a natural smile, much against your clouded emotions. You signed him quickly and elegantly before swiftly but maturely walking away from him.
To Spider, you were the first foreign Na’vi to accept him without disgust or fear on first interaction. Spider felt elated. Even without a calculated brush of skin. You didn’t want to have to touch that one yet.
You walked back to your sister and stood solemnly next to her. Koa watched you, you gave her a passive nod. Much to her reluctance she nods back, turning her head towards the Sully's.
“Tshik has granted you uturu.” Koa says in solidarity.
Before the Sully’s and Spider could get hype she added:
“After completing a trial.” Your sister states.
[ ! ] Na’vi words with the letter ‘X’ are pronounced silent. Like how the letter ‘H’ is silent in Spanish.
Jake, Neteyam, and Lo’ak stood tense at the edge of where the swamp pond met land. All three holding spears. The Hulanta people populated the thick branches of the large tall trees. Koa, Neytiri, Kiri, Tuk, and Spider stood beside you. You clasp your hands together, your face neutral.
“To prove yourselves, you must dive into the waters of the marsh. You have to submit the Txaw’itan (Taw•a•Itan), a creature of our marshlands.” You say, intentionally vague. “May Eywa be with you.”
Jake looked over to his sons. He hesitated before moving into the murky waters. As Jake was submerged waist deep, Neteyam followed after. Lo’ak not far behind. The three Sully boys wade through the waters, they watched every shadow of the darkening swamp.
These waters will deceive you. Beware the water.
Lo’ak yelped as he slipped under the water. His feet were swallowed by the thick mud floor. Before his head could submerge underwater, Neteyam pulled him up by his arm. Jake watched with concern. Neytiri’s hands were clasped over her lips.
“Did you hear that?” Lo’ak asks.
“Yeah, a voice said–” Before Neteyam could finish, Jake jumped in.
“These waters will deceive you. We have to keep our heads. No separating.” Jake commands.
“Yes, sir.” Neteyam nods.
As if Ewya herself wanted to disturb the control Jake tried to apply to the situation, the Txaw’itan charged towards them. The beast forced the Sully boys to separate in different directions. Jake turned towards the beast, his spear raised, his locs whooshed with his movements. He launched his spear at the hard plate of the beast's back. The hardened scales ricochet the spear into the dark water. Now without a weapon Jake reached to his back and pulled out his bow.
You watched quietly, entertainment shimmered in your eyes as you watched their bodies work with efficiency. Koa showed no interest in the battle going on below her very feet. She stood there boredly, waiting for someone to die. Neytiri’s body was pulled tight. Her tail wavered behind her in concern. Kiri sent quiet prayers to Eywa, Tuk pressed into Kiri’s side, hiding her face in Kiri's chest. Spider watched on in worry, his eyebrows flared together.
Neteyam dodge out of the way when the Txaw’itan barreled towards him, successfully stabbing it in its side before running away. Lo’ak stood frozen, his eyes looking over the bare waters the Txaw’itan disappeared underneath. The Txaw’itan cloaked itself under the dark waters. Lo’ak felt the ground give underneath him, he was lifted above the water. Lo’ak shouted in shock and trepidation before his mind came back to him. Lo’ak gripped the hard scales of the Txaw’itan, holding on as he got jerked around.
Jake drew the string of his bow back, his arrow sliced through the fog of the swamp, lodging itself into the soft underbelly of the Txaw’itan. The Txaw’itan did a death roll, launching Lo’ak into the water. The Txaw’itan once again disappeared under the water. Lo’ak sputtered in disgust, standing up and yanking the locs of long stringy tape grass from his braids. The Txaw’itan resurfaced, it screeched, its body blended with the deep fog and dark water as it swam away.
Jake let out a chuckle in disbelief before halloring a war cry. Neteyam and Lo’ak followed suit. Their hearts are still pumping from the encounter with the Txaw’itan. Neytiri and Kiri let out a breath of relief. Spider and Tuk jumped around, cheering on the Sully boys. The Hulanta people clapped slowly before uniting in cheers. You and Koa sat stoically. Koa, albeit disappointed no one died, gave a reluctant nod of acknowledgement.
Jake's eyes looked up, making eye contact with you. The two of you stared at each other. A natural smile broke across your lips. You gave him a respectful nod. A cocky smirk stretched across Jake’s lips, a mischievous twinkle lit up his eyes. You raise your arms towards the crowd.
“Tomorrow the Sully’s and Spider will be Hulanta, we shall gather for a feast.” You announced.
Everyone is gathered at the heart of the village. A crowd of Hulanta people stood on a wood platform. They strum their guitars, played their flutes, and banged on their drums. A Hulanta woman stood at the front of it all, singing with soul. The sky is dark, stars dazzled in spots. The air was lively with talk and laughs.
Where you were sitting, Koa and mother flanked you. The Sully’s and Spider were sitting across from you. Spider slurped down the food presented to him. Lo’ak made it a point to avoid direct eye contact with you. You could feel the stares of Neteyam and Jake burning into the sides of your face. Neytiri took measured bites, feeding bits to Tuk. Kiri watched the Hulanta in awe, her ears perked as she listened intrigued with the music they were playing. You made eye contact with Jake.
“Do any of you speak English?” You asked, your Na’vi accent is thick.
They all replied with resounding, “yes”.
“Good, let’s speak in English. It’s such an ugly language.” You say, your voice conceded.
You watched Jake’s tail curl in embarrassment at your statement.
“Why did you run away from your home?” You ask, your eyes wide in curiosity.
“We didn’t run from our home.” Neytiry states calmly.
“But you did. If not then why ask for uturu?” You say bluntly.
“I, as well, would like to know why.” Koa folded her hands on her lap.
“We were attacked by the skypeople. They killed many of our people. We left to ensure the safety of our people.” Jake addresses.
You tilted your head, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.
“And to protect your people, you bring your mess to others?” You ask, your voice is not unkind.
“If I felt unassured of the strength of the Hulanta, I would’ve felt insulted.” Koa strongly supported your opposition.
Neytiri resisted the urge to hiss. Jake cringed, he placed his hand on Neytiri’s shoulder to calm her. Neteyam’s ears drooped, his tail nervously swishing behind him. Lo’ak curled into himself, completely looking to the side of you. His tail is tense and stiff. Spider slowed his eating, his eyes awkwardly switching from one side of the table to the other. Tuk sensing the tension but not understanding, clenched onto the arm of Neytiri for comfort. Kiri was distracted, still listening in amazement at the music being played.
“That is not how we meant it. We mean no offense.” Jake said, quick to quell the tension.
You made no move to comment on Jake’s words.
“Are you enjoying the food?” You ask.
Jake and Neteyam perked up.
“Y-Yes. The food is very delicious.” Jake made a show of eating his food.
Neteyam looked down at his uneaten portion. Neteyam quickly scooped up a leaf wrap and bit into it. You waved over a Hulanta. The Na’vi came to you, kneeling down, his ear next to your mouth.
“Bring the Zangke (fermented drink made with zakru milk and fiery herbs).” You say.
The Na’vi nodded, standing elegantly. He turned and saundered off.
“We have a marui prepared. When you’re ready to go rest, Ol’xma will show you where it is.” You held your hand towards Ol’xma.
Ol’xma came to stand by you. He held a kettle of zangke. He bowed, gingerly pouring you a portion of the drink. After you he moved to Koa, and poured the drink into her cup.
“I, as Tsuke, and my sister as Olo’eykte. Must request for you to take on needed roles for the Hulanta.” You state.
Ol’xma returned to your side after finishing pouring drinks for the table. You dismissed him with the flick of your wrist. Ol’xma bowed and then walked away.
“Of course. We’ll do any role you give us to pull our weight.” Jake nods.
“We must judge your strengths.” Says Koa, taking a polite sip from her cup. “But for now, let us enjoy our drinks.”
Later in the night, after everything has calmed, Ol’xma guided the Sully’s and Spider to their marui. It was situated at the lowest height of the Hulanta swamp, it stood above the murky swamp water of the lake. The landscape was dense with large fluffy trees and long grass that stood from the waters.
“This is where you’ll stay for the time being.” Ol’xma says politely.
Jake and Neytiri looked around with a gremice. The marui was modest in size, but uncomfortable for a family of six, including Spider. Kiri and Tuk wandered further into the marui. Neteyam hopped in one of the hanging beds. Lo’ak nudged Spider with his elbow.
“You might have to sleep outside bro.” Lo’ak joked.
Spider gave him an annoyed look before a smile broke across his face, shoving Lo’ak. Neytiri watched the boys, contemplating the idea.
“I understand that this may be uncomfortable, but this is the only marui we have available at the moment.” Ol’xma says.
Jake looked around apprehensively.
“Ma’Jake. We need more space. We’ll be living on top of each other.” Neytiri says with concern.
Jake’s head turns to her, giving her a nod of understanding.
“What about a kelutral (hometree)?” Jake asks.
“Those are only reserved for those who are high standing Hulanta.” Ol’xma explains. He turned to Neytiri, quoting her exactly. “You were Toruk Makto. Here, you are nothing.”
annaxmalina
blakekathryn
izzy806
janainaart
origamiaround
tangentwithtanner
theartofmadeline
