⟡ neteyam won’t let anyone have an attitude with you. he DOES NOT tolerate a single second of disrespect toward his mate.
☼ fem! na’vi reader, sfw, some vague threats from neteyam to the one disrespecting you, protective neteyam, lots of fluff. neteyam is a sweet boy.
⟡ yes, i did pull inspiration from the way of water when neteyam stands toe to toe with aounung, what about it?
⟡ and i know it’s not “canon compliant” for reader to be tsahik in training and mated to neteyam whose going to be olo’eyktan, but idgaf. it’s my fic, none of this is canon anyways considering the ending of the way of water so… *shrugs*
⟡ m.list
A sharp gasp comes from below, the wounded Na’vi flinching from your gentle hand. “Ow! Watch it,” he hisses, turning his head to snarl at you.
Your ears twitch in irritation, yet you give him an apologetic smile nevertheless. “Of course, Teylan. I am only trying to heal you. I will be more careful.”
He faces forward, mumbling something under his breath. You dip your fingers into medicinal paste made of yalna bark, steadying your hand as you smear it along another cut on Teylan’s back. It’s near his shoulder, not too deep or long, and you hold your breath.
Sighing softly in relief, the tension unfurls from your spine when he makes no move to resist.
The healing chamber inside the Hometree provides enough privacy, but you can hear other Omatikaya bustling about through the curtain of hanging vines.
“Teylan,” you say carefully. “The wound I’m about to treat has cut you deep, it will be quite painful no matter how delicate I am.” You gather more paste on your fingers.
“Don’t speak to me as if I am a child,” he bites. “I am able to withstand the pain. Get on with it.”
You are a child, you think irritably. Which rings true, because he is still very young. Younger than you, at least. Your tail flicks in jerky movements as you press your lips together and gingerly place your fingers to the top of the cut, dragging the paste further down.
Teylan’s tail thrashes wildly, flinging the bowl of paste across the room. He leaps to his feet and whirls around, lip curled. “I told you to be careful! What kind of tsahik in training are you?”
You rise to your feet slowly, hands held up in defense. “Mawey, Teylan. I already told you it would be painful. You do not want to do this.”
He steps closer, ignoring your subtle hint. “You don’t deserve—,”
Suddenly there’s a hand on his arm, cutting him short and wrenching him from your space, shoving him several feet backwards. Teylan trips and stumbles, eyes wide.
“That’s enough,” Neteyam warns through his teeth. “Back off. Now.” He stands tall in front of you like a shield, looking every inch like the warrior he is. You edge closer, peeking out from behind Neteyam’s arm with a smug smile. Your mates tail winds protectively around your waist, pulling you flush against him.
No doubt you could handle this yourself. Neteyam is just so attractive when he’s like this.
Teylan stares, fists clenched at his sides, ears pinned to his skull. “Why should I?” He taunts, looking like he wants to spew more insults. He wisely keeps his mouth shut.
“If you say another word, I will slice your tongue from your skull.” Neteyam stalks forward, dragging you behind him. He lowers his voice, threatening as he says, “Never disrespect my mate again—,” he jabs Teylan in the chest, who instinctively steps back. “You will find yourself thrown from atop an ikran mid flight if you do.”
Teylan’s ears droop. The angry expression he’s trying to maintain splinters, exposing the fear below. He sniffs. Then he nods.
“Get out of my sight, child.”
Teylan bolts through the vines, disappearing within the second. Neteyam’s posture relaxes, tail uncurling from your waist.
“Ma Neteyam,” you say, fond and amused, trailing your fingers down his bicep. “You know I am capable of handling my own problems.”
Neteyam’s ears perk as he spins to face you. Slender fingers and calloused palms cradle your cheeks as if he’s holding something delicate. “Ma sevin,” he pleads. “Understand my position.” You raise your hands, circling your fingers around his wrists. “If you overheard someone disrespecting me, would you not step in? Would it not boil your blood?”
“I would do the same,” you agree with a grin. You bump your foreheads together. “But you are in trouble, ma Neteyam.”
He lets out a wounded little noise, dropping his hands as he straightens. “I am in trouble?” He asks incredulously. “I am a mighty warrior, I cannot be in trouble.”
“Well this mighty warrior is in trouble,” you tease, crossing your arms over your chest. “The future Olo’eyktan cannot threaten young warriors—,” You raise an eyebrow. “Especially not ones who will be under his command.”
“I was defending your honor,” Neteyam says with a pout, tail flicking back and forth.
You wave him off. “Yes, yes, I am aware ma Neteyam.”
You start to clean the paste that’s spattered everywhere, expecting Neteyam to follow, but when you glance over your shoulder he’s sulking in the corner. You roll your eyes, biting back a smile, and spin to face him once more.
“Come here, mighty warrior,” you beckon, curling a finger his way.
Neteyam lights up, saddling up close to you. You tug on one of his braids until he dips down, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead. He hums low in his chest, smiling.
It’s not exactly how you planned to tell Neteyam that you’re pregnant, but when you’re in middle of war, things don’t always go to plan.
Warnings: fluffy, pregnancy, nausea, it’s just a drabble, nothing else?
“Keep going, ma’yawntu.” Neteyam’s voice is low but harsh, his hands urging you onwards. The blades of the RDA gunship behind you whir louder as it approaches. “We are almost there.”
A shaky breath parts your cracked lips and your hand mindlessly wanders to the lower part of your turning stomach. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep this up, not when you feel like this. Your legs trudge on and if Neteyam weren’t tugging you along you would’ve been dead by now.
“‘teyam…‘teyam.” Your voice trembles and your tongue rolls in your mouth. “Wait…I’m going to be sick, stop.”
Neteyam spins to you, looking at you like you’ve been hit. “What–? Sick how?”
You turn your head and your shoulders tense when you dry heave.
“Shit, okay, okay.” Neteyam curses under his breath, hands bracing your shoulders as he looks behind you. He herds you both behind a tree, keeping his hold on your shoulders as you let your wobbly knees give out and your back drags down the thick trunk. “Breathe. What’s happening?”
The nausea bubbles over and you turn your head to dry-heave again. You shake your head slightly, hand still resting on your abdomen. He looks you over, concerned and panicked, his hands gathering your hair together–out of your face. Neteyam looks around, scoping out the area for approaching threats. He doesn’t like that the RDA litters this place like ants in a nest. And more importantly, he doesn’t like the fact that you’re like this.
Vulnerable.
“I don’t know…I’m sorry.” The apology is weak and breathless. You wipe the saliva from your mouth with the back of your hand and let your head rest on the tree trunk.
“Do not be sorry, just talk to me.” Neteyam’s hand presses firmly into your forehead. You’re not warm, not in the slightest. He wipes away the sweat beading at your temples, and he cups your cheek. “Did you eat something?”
“No, no.” You suck in a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut as another wave of nausea ripples over you. You pant through it—maybe you just need to admit the obvious. What you’ve been avoiding for the past few days. “I…I think—”
Neteyam’s eyes narrow as they take in your pallor, the way your body trembles as your eyes flutter from dizziness. You’re in no shape to keep running. His head whips toward the sound of an amp suit coming your way, and he unsheathes an arrow from his back and loads his bow.
“We can’t stay here.” Neteyam says quietly as he crouches low, shifting his back slightly so he’s shielding you with his body.
“Neteyam—”
“We need to go.” He speaks breathily as he withdraws his arrow, huddling closer to you. “You are not safe here.”
Another dry heave catapults the words out of you before you can even process it.
“I-I think I’m pregnant.”
Time stops for Neteyam, evident in how the approaching amp suit seems to momentarily freeze. Enough for him to focus, to aim. The taut string snaps against his inner forearm and a mushroom of orange and red erupts from the metal contraption.
“What?”
Neteyam turns to you, kneeling before you, his hand finding your cheek again. He looks at you, his hard gaze softening when his eyes fall to your stomach. At how your hand has been there this entire time, protecting.
The realization slams into him, you’ve been pregnant, and running. Fighting. His hand, shaking with adrenaline, covers over yours entirely, his finger tips pressing softly into your belly. He feels it. He feels the energy radiating through the pads of his digits, that flicker of life right underneath where he touches.
“You’re…pregnant.”
Neteyam breathes hard as his eyes meet yours, inquisitive and glowing with a quiet fear. A deeper protectiveness. There’s more to protect now. You swallow the spit pooling in your mouth and shake your head.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure, I just…I’ve been sick.”
Any chance of you being pregnant is enough for Neteyam. This is no place for his mate. For his pregnant mate. You shouldn’t be here, in the middle of war. He shakes his head slightly, his hand gripping yours that lay fiercely over your belly.
“Come, ma’yawntu…we need to go now. Okay?” Neteyam coos, slipping his arm underneath you. He tenderly tugs you into his chest—you’re safest closest to him. “…I need to get you somewhere safe.”
Summary: You and Ao’nung have been friends since you could remember, everyone knew you both as a pair. But when you both come to the stage where the boys are to begin courting, ao’nung has to snatch you up first.
Tags: pining, ao’nung having a crush on reader since they were children, friends to lovers, kissing (no smut because I cba rn), pure fluff, Ao’nung literally being obsessed w reader🤍
A/n: FINALLY AONUNG FIC!!! I’ve been waiting to get an idea to write about him, and here it is! I hope you all enjoy and I really wanted to do a friends to lovers thing but literally just fluff and no smut. As always, happy reading 🌝
You and ao’nung have been practically inseparable since the age of 5.
Everybody knew you as a pair, neither one of you are ever mentioned without the other coming afterwards. And ao’nung was proud of that.
He was never embarrassed of his friendship with you, he didn’t care what other said, or if his friends ever made fun of him.
To Ao’nung, you were always worth it.
But recently the atmosphere between you two had shifted slightly, most of the boys in your clan were now beginning the courting stage of their adolescence.
You had boys left right and centre, you knew were pretty, but Eywa this felt a bit over the top. And it left ao’nung absolutely seething.
He didn’t hate the attention you were getting, but he hated who it was coming from. The other boys in the clan were greedy in his eyes, none of them truly cared about you in the way that you deserved.
And ao’nung knew he was being overly jealous, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when it came to something so important.
You.
He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but ao’nung also had a small wish to court you himself. He convinced himself that it was just to project you.
But, Eywa, deep down he knew it was because of the unwanted feelings he’d had since you two were about 8 years old.
Sometimes he got distracted by you, not your looks or your body (although that was an obvious plus) but rather because of the way you spoke to him.
Ao’nung was never worried about being judged by you, you were the time of person to listen intently- no matter who was speaking.
And he loved that about you, among many other things, which all culminated to the decision of trying to court you.
It’s nearing eclipse now, the sky a beautiful light purple.
One of your most favourite colours. Ao’nung remembers that of course, that’s why he chose to take you out at this time.
Your hands are intertwined, ao’nung is walking slightly ahead since he’s the one who knows the path to the place he’s bringing you to.
You purposely dressed up nicely, as if sensing that this is an important occasion.
A beaded top that Tsireya had helped you weave, a tweng that used to belong to your mother, and of course, your songchord.
You both haven’t spoken for a minute, but silence between you two was never awkward. Just your aura made any silence calming and peaceful.
But Ao’nung broke that silence,
“We are almost there tanhì (star, correct me if I’m wrong)”
You smile softly and nod,
“Okay.. I am not so sure if I trust where this is headed” you tease him and a gentle laugh leaves your lips.
Ao’nung’s head turns back to look at you, and his face is full of mock disbelief, “excuse me? You don’t trust me, huh?”
A light violet blush creeps onto your cheeks and you shake your head.
“Of course I trust you! I am just sceptical of where we’re going”
He then fully turns around and pulls you to his chest, a surprised gasp escapes you and you brace yourself on his chest.
“Well, you know that everywhere on this island is stunning. So I can assure you that you will enjoy this, now cmon before eclipse sets in.” He begins to talk again, and you walk a bit quicker now so you can be side by side.
Eventually you both arrive at the coast, it’s silent except the gentle sound coming from the waves.
And it’s beautiful, your eyes widen as the whole sight enters your vision. A large mangrove tree sits further up the sand, and there’s lanterns leading a way near it.
As you approach further, you can see a woven blanket type thing lay out on the sand, along with a basket of your favourite fruits.
A smile grows on your face, and you realise that this was all planned out by Ao’nung.
When he knows that you’ve realised, he turns to see the look on your face and he smiles at your obvious excitement.
You both arrive at the blanket and he lets you sit down first. You sit with your knees beneath you and your hands gently clasped in your lap.
He sits next to you and he brings the basket in front of you both,
“So.. was this worth it?” He asks you with a smirk, already knowing your answer.
You nod enthusiastically,
“Yes! Oh my Eywa, ao’nung this is fantastic.” Ao’nung can sense your genuineness and is suddenly surprised when you lean over and wrap your arms around his neck.
He immediately hugs you back, he was extremely happy that this had all worked.
Ao’nung then picks up one of the fruits and places it in your hands, “eat paskalin” he encourages.
You listen and bring the sweet thing to your lips, as you take a bite, ao’nung grabs one too.
He watches you as you eat it, not in a creepy way, but in the way that he always looks at you. Like he’s trying to study everything about you.
When you’re both finished, you take a moment to look at the sea. And the sunset, you loved the sky, and were glad that Ao’nung remembered that.
He then begins to speak as his hand creeps over to rest with yours,
“So, this is nice right? At least I hope it is, I was planning this for a while.” He admits.
Your eyebrows raise as you look at him.
“Really? I mean yes, this is amazing I’m so thankful.” you look down and smile, “I’m just so surprised that you’ve put so much effort into this..”
He looks at you with a smirk, “well of course I did, anything for my girl right?” It slips out before he even realises, and ao’nung’s own eyes widen before flicking to look at you and your reaction.
You blush heavily as you hear him say that.
“Your girl? What’s that supposed to mean, hm?” You say teasingly, before seeing how panicked he looks, “hey it’s okay, I mean I sort of am your girl” you shrug and laugh.
That makes Ao’nung relax and he lets out a breath of a laugh, “well I’m glad I didn’t screw that up, but I guess now I have to talk about why I wanted to bring you here.”
Your ears twitch and you turn to properly face him, you then hold his hand properly in both of your palms.
“What is it?” You ask innocently, but deep down you knew what you were hoping for. There was a reason you had rejected all of the offers from the other boys.
You have one person you’re waiting for, and he is right in front of you.
“Well, obviously a lot of the boys our age like you right?” He knows how blunt he’s being, but right now he needs too.
You nod along, your hope growing larger.
“And I know that you don’t like them back, but, Eywa I don’t know, i have just never felt that much jealously before. I hated seeing them that close to you.”
Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, you’d never really realised how much he disliked all of this.
“I know that this may be weird, or might make you uncomfortable.. but I really need you to know how I’ve been feeling about all of this.” He begins seriously, and now makes eye contact with you while taking your hands into his as well.
“I like you, yawne. In fact,-“ he takes a deep breath and shakes his head slightly before continuing, “it’s more than that, I see you. And I know for definite that I’ve wanted to spend my life with you since we were 8 years old.”
He then stops speaking and waits for your reaction.
You pause for a moment to take this all in, your mouth slightly open in shock. But then a violet hue springs on your cheeks, and Ao’nung realises that you’re heavily blushing.
“Ao’nung.. I-“ you try to find the correct words, “I see you too.”
You don’t get the chance to say anything else here ao’nung’s hands situate themselves onto your waist and pull you closer.
Your hands instinctively go to rest on his shoulders, and the next thing you know, your lips are pressed against his.
The kiss is slow, like you’re both testing the boundaries. But it grows deeper until you both lose your breathe and have to part.
Your breathing very heavily, lips plump and swollen from the kiss.
A prideful smirk appears on Ao’nung’s face, and his hands run up and down your waist in the softest way.
“So does this mean we are now promised to each other, ma’y/n?”
You smile and nod, “of course.. I would not want anything less.”
Jake Sully x Female Metkayina Reader
Word count | 12k
Warnings | explicit smut, 18+, massage, teasing, fingering, p in v, bioluminescent cum, dom Jake, dilf Jake, misbehaving cheating Jake
Read Part I & Part II here
Summary | Your heat is a tricky beast to tame, let alone with Jake coming back to offer you payment for your massage
The Metkayina folk are well adapted to the heat but today is one of those rare scorchers; the sweat clinging to your skin more heavily than usual, the blinding white sand simmering under your toes. It’s a world apart from the cool evening before, when Jake had turned up at your hut, all slick with rain.
You shift in discomfort under the thick of the mid-afternoon, sitting cross-legged on the beach as you and Tsireya weave the fishnet you’ve been working on together. It’s a lengthy project—a fibrous beast designed for heavy hauls of gliderfin that can sustain the village for weeks.
“I know it’s not been that long, but he seems sweet,” she smiles shyly, her four fingers weaving with a patient delicacy. She’s talking about Lo’ak, of course. They’ve been swimming in each other’s wakes ever since the Sullys arrived, and it brings the sappiest, dumb smile to your face to see your young friend this happy. You follow her gaze to where the Sully kids are over by the edge of the crystalline waves, messing around with something they’ve found in the shallows—chortling—Lo’ak shoving Neteyam in the usual playful dynamic that the two brothers have. Lo’ak is cute, and his fumbling yet charming mannerisms remind you so much of Jake.
You turn back to Tsireya, your face shifting into a teasing grin. “You’ll be mated before you know it,” you wink, and she glares up at you—her stripy, teal cheeks flushing maroon as she scoops up a fistful of sand and flings it at you over the net. You gasp with a giggle, your forearm coming up to protect you against the attack of pale dust.
“For your information, I’m not interested in that yet,” she remarks with her brows arched high in dignity. Tsireya’s more than a decade your junior, but her level of maturity often has you forgetting she’s not yet fully come of age. She looks every bit the Olo’eyktan’s daughter in this light, even with the sand clinging to her paddle-like forearms and a girlish blush weighing on her cheeks.
“Oh, you will be. Give it a few years,” you tease.
She scrunches her nose up, her ears pinning back in mock-annoyance as her protruding tongue tells you to behave yourself.
You break from the weaving with a puff as you drop back onto the baking, white sheet of sand, swiping away the small pearls of sweat that have collected in beads over your forehead. “Why is it this hot,” you mutter as you stretch your legs out long, your toes flexing and wiggling. You haven’t stretched at all yet today, and it always makes you feel antsy—like there’s an unfulfilled itch that needs scratching. That’s the problem with having learned to be so in-tune with your body—you’re always so aware of what it needs and when—and if there’s any tension that needs releasing, it’s very difficult to ignore.
You shelter your eyes with your forearms and sigh, circling your hips around on the sand to earn you a satisfying pop of your pelvis. The beaded ropes of your shawl roll over your breasts, and you notice your nipples reacting—stiffening into peaks straight away at the tickle of the strings.
Hmm. Your nipples are usually only this sensitive when…
You check in lower—giving your thighs a light squeeze together—and the warm, wet sensation you receive between your legs immediately confirms your suspicion.
“It’s not that hot,” Tsireya points out with a narrowed glance at your squirming frame on the sand. Her hands pause on the net in her lap as she eyes you, her dainty nostrils flaring. “Are you… in heat?”
Crap. Her words solidify your thoughts as you cup your flushed, clammy cheeks with a groan. “Eurgh, I think you’re right.” The familiar ache settles with a dull throb in your lower belly, as though your body is exhaling in full force at you finally noticing.
“You stink,” Tsireya declares with a hand thrown over her snickering lips.
“Thanks, Tsireya.” You shoot her a flat, unamused look, your eyes narrowing as a single bead of sweat rolls down your temple. “Thanks a lot.”
Female Na’vi heat cycles are as natural a phenomenon as the body craving to be fed when hungry, but it doesn’t take away the baggage of the awkward, social discomfort that comes with it. It means an inconvenient few days of being achingly horny, all the while receiving a lot of male attention—especially if you aren’t already mated. Your usual coping mechanism is to shut yourself in your marui for the duration—feigning sickness while you distract yourself with your crafts, comfort foods, and a whole lot of touching yourself.
You groan again, drawing your knees in a tight ball into your chest as you rock side to side in the sand. “I need to get home…”
“Mr Sully keeps looking at you—maybe he wants something?” Tsireya drops like a casual bombshell and your stomach plummets so hard you have to stop your core from clenching in a weird spasm.
You sit up a little too hastily, trying to keep your scouting gaze as nonchalant as possible. Your eyes eventually find him, standing with Tonowari and a few other men, taking shelter from the beating sun under the giant mangrove roots at the edge of the huts. The group seem to be deep in an important discussion—Tonowari has a hand planted firmly on one hip as he makes florid gestures with the other, his mouth moving quickly while the other men make contemplative nods and replies.
It’s impossible to hold back the small smile that settles on your lips as you notice the way in which Jake is holding himself. You’ve never seen him this relaxed before, standing with his hip jutted out to the side as he leans his weight slightly more over on one leg—his head tilting with lazy ease while he nods in response to Tonowari, one hand perched loosely over his braided leather knife holster that’s strapped across his chest. He looks incredibly alert and rejuvenated, with a certain loose energy rolling off of his beautifully carved shoulders in a posture that screams satisfaction. The dappled light from the gaps in the mangrove roots dances slowly over the lines of his lax frame as he lounges there, highlighting the comfort that your massage has clearly gifted him.
You can tell he’d slept well last night. Your hands had done him good.
Jake’s eyes are narrowed with the discussion at hand, but you can’t miss the gold glint of them in the shade as they shift sideward with a sly ease—slipping onto your gaze as he continues talking, and it immediately sends a kaleidoscope of unexpected butterflies surging through your stomach. Your dumb smile drops as quickly as your gut, and you flick your attention back to the net, where your fingers are already busy fiddling with it—the rough fibres of the weave catching on your skin.
“Strange, not sure what that could be,” you mumble under your breath before sending a sneaky glance up to Tsireya, hoping she’s oblivious to your sudden fluster—your sweaty skin humming with a new heat that has nothing to do with the sun.
If Tsireya is being at all impish, she hides it well, seeming blissfully ignorant as she inspects a small tear that’s appeared on the net. “Urgh. Ruined it,” she huffs.
“No, you haven’t. Here.” You lean forward on your knees, the chafe of your loincloth at your thighs tough to ignore as you reach out to take the section from her. “I always get this—you just need to thread it back through with this part and loop around—“
Your hands and mouth flow mechanically as your eyes creep toward the side, and sure enough—Jake’s gaze is hot on you past Tonowari’s shoulder. You freeze—your big, pale eyes are held briefly captive by his yellow ones, and you swear you catch the ghost of a smirk cross his lips—barely—before he flicks his attention back to Tonowari. Back to his conversation.
Your paddle-like tail twitches hotly on the sand behind you as your eyes drop in fixation to where your fingers are mending the tear by pure muscle memory. The fingers that had Jake’s big, gorgeous body under them just the night before, and that thought alone is enough to have you spiralling further into a heated shambles.
You have to give it to yourself—you’d kept it together well last night, considering you do want that man so badly—only losing your cool towards the end of the evening when he was propped up beneath you and suddenly looking like he very well might take the plunge and close the small space between you both. The strength it took to wrap things up then and there before things went too far is damn admirable.
But imagining that scenario now—in your current, weakened state—is something a little too dangerous that you know you need to keep a distance from.
“You’re good at this,” Tsireya grins, and your eyes snap up to her a little too sharply.
“At what?”
“Um… the net?”
“Oh. Yeah. Lots of practice,” you titter as you swipe back a damp clump of hair that’s sticking to the side of your face. “I’m… need to water. Swim. You’ve got this, right?” you ask, already standing and brushing off the suddenly suffocating coat of sand stuck to your back and thighs.
“Sure! Are you coming bac—”
“Catch up another time! Yeah?” You call over your shoulder as you make your swift escape in the direction of the sea—throwing a casual wave at the stares you receive from Neteyam and Lo’ak as you saunter past, your tail flicking with a mind of its own as the cool, salty veil begins to mingle with the heavy musk of your skin.
The water was a truly heavenly relief, but you feel much better once you’re back at your hut, sprawling out on the comfort of your fur throws and seeking a couple of quick, relieving climaxes.
Ok—a couple is modest—but when the release is this needed, who can blame you? Your body always craves to be filled with something much bigger when in heat, but your fingers do the job well enough, and it helps that it’s always easy as pie to reach orgasm during your cycle.
Your comfort is only aided as the heat of the day has dropped with the retreat of the sun behind Polyphemus, the moisture from high up in the humid air falling to create that delicious, crisp smell of night that you love—ozonic, salty and fresh. It’s a scent that you would store by the bottle if you could.
You sigh, letting your eyelids fall heavy as you sip your sweet yovofruit tea—your heat temporarily staved off as you lean back against the wall with your knees caving in, propping up your jelly-like legs that hum with the soft buzz of your evening antics.
This isn’t so bad. You can stay here, cosy in your hut for the duration of the tricky days with your tea and snacks to hand—nursing yourself back to health from the ‘sickness’ you’ve come down with—the deflection you’ll use against any nosy priers. And then, once it’s all blown over, you can get back to your big bucket of tasks.
Finishing the net with Tsireya is the first and foremost priority, but once that’s finally off of your hands, you can take that trip beyond the reef that you’ve been planning to for a while now to help collect the supply of medicinal seeds that the village is running low on. Plus, while out there, you can scout for that rare species of aquatic lichen you’ve heard mentioned by one of the wind traders in passing—the properties apparently having an incredibly relaxing effect when—
“Please don’t freak out—“
“SHIT!!!”
You jolt like a spooked ilu out of water, a glob of tea jumping out from your cup and crashing down onto your evening sarashi that’s hugging your breasts. You frown down at the dark stain that’s bleeding out across your wrap before snapping your gaze up to the deep voiced culprit standing in your doorframe.
He’s standing with one hand holding back the flap of your marui and the other hovering over his mouth, barely covering his low, entertained chortle. “God, m’sorry… could see you were deep in thought and it’s all I could… I’m sorry.”
You simply blink at him for a moment—bewildered—your mouth almost curving up to laugh along with him in shock as the spilt tea starts to trickle down your stomach in little streams, but you stop yourself dead in your tracks.
Jake?!
No. Nope. Nu-uh. You scurry to your feet, sliding your empty cup onto the table as you pad over to him at the door, both of your palms colliding against his chest. “Jake, no. You can’t be here tonight,” you hiss in a strangled whisper as you glance around at the village beyond his shoulder—dark and silent bar the occasional buzzing chirps of reef ticks. Most of the frames of the nearby huts are void of glow—no one should even be up at this hour—but your current situation still has you teetering on some kind of… edge, though you don’t quite know what that edge is.
Jake’s dark eyebrows hood his eyes as he leans in a fraction, responding in an equally hushed and concerned tone. “Everythin’ ok? You hiding from something?” His head turns as he tracks your gaze behind him, taking a quick scout over the seemingly calm surroundings outside.
“No,” you hiss, your cheeks warming as your eyes drop to where your hands are still splayed out across his chest, and you drop them awkwardly.
“Then what?”
“I’m… sick.” It sounds pathetic as you say it, but you bring a balled fist up to your mouth anyway as you attempt the most convincing sounding cough you can muster. “You need to get away,” you rasp, “I don’t want to go spreading it. I’m, going to… sneeze…” you flap your hands as you turn away from him with a bottled-up chest, before exploding into a little, soft ‘htchu!
“Damn, you poor thing,” Jake winces, his face crinkling in concern. “You seemed alright last night…”
“I know. It came on so suddenly,” you murmur gravely, shaking your head in a grimace, your voice growing more husky by the second. “Must’ve been all that damn rain in the air last night…”
He hums. “Explains why you were strugglin’ so much on the beach earlier…”
Your cheeks feel like they resemble the purple yovofruit tea that’s on your chest.
Jake grumbles—sympathetically—bringing the backs of his fingers up to test your forehead temperature, and then your cheeks. “Yeah, you’re burnin’ up, alright.”
You nod with your brows knitted together, playing into the tragedy while you quietly enjoy the feeling of Jake’s heavy fingers on your face.
“Guess I stopped by at just the right time, then.”
You freeze mid-nod. “Err… what?”
“Nothin’ quite like a good massage to ease those symptoms, right?” He says, as though the sickness part doesn’t faze him in the slightest. The smirk that’s suddenly settled on his face is far too knowing for your liking, and you clear your throat, feeling the heat prickle at the back of your neck. Your ears pin back as you try to keep your voice low. “Not right now, Jake. Did you not hear me—“
“But I need to give you your payment, remember?” he interjects, ducking into your hut fully and almost bumping straight into you as he lets the heavy, woven door flap down behind him. “We made a deal, and I ain’t a fan of breakin’ promises.”
You roll your eyes to the side with a huff as you take an awkward step back from him, your hands threading under your armpits as you fold your arms tightly across your chest. Why does he have to be here now, being so insistent, when you’re desperately trying to keep yourself from devolving into a hot catastrophe? This is the exact situation you don’t need, and it seems like he isn’t making it an easy one to wiggle out of.
You drum your fingers beneath your armpits as you give Jake an uncertain glance. The level of relaxed, confident energy that’s radiating from him tonight is offensive, and you’re starting to realise—with a punch to the gut—that this is your fault. Perhaps giving him such an excellent massage was not your finest idea, and now you’re having to pay the price in the form of Jake looking and acting very sexy while practically begging to give you a damn massage.
It’s extremely difficult to stop your disobedient eyes from roaming over the features of Jake’s body that your hands have already memorized. It’s irritating how attractive he looks, dressed in little other than his most casual attire; his smoky blue loincloth draping the insides of his striped thighs, while the fibrous weave of the bands around his upper arms grip his biceps. The green and amber plaited beads of his ceremonial necklace—a symbol of his Olo’eyktan status—hug his throat in a tight embrace, and you watch as his tanhi glows and pulses in little streams down the veins of his neck and arms, branching out into a beautiful river of patterns across his chest and stomach—outlining his robust frame against the dark of your dimly lit room.
There’s something about the bulky presence of him in your hut now that the door is fully flapped shut that’s getting you more tightly wrung by the second. Your nostrils flare on their own accord at the suddenly overbearing scent of him—metal and woodsmoke—that grounding, unique Omatikaya musk that you’ve come to associate as his own, and something else… more subtle, yet pungent lingering underneath. You inhale deeper, trying to grapple at this mystery component, the scent of it almost on the tip of your tongue—
“You’re all uptight,” Jake grins, stepping in closer until he’s hovering over you, a couple of his front dreads falling forward to frame his face as he rests a large, gentle hand on your shoulder. “A lot of tension on these shoulders, huh?”
The sneaky bastard is mirroring your words from last night, but it’s hard to even register that under the searing touch of his big, rough hand on you. You jolt at the contact, as though he’s just zapped you with a static shock, and that gives him a good chuckle. “You really are on edge, aren’tcha. Must be all of that nasty sickness.”
“Jake…” you shoot him a pale, warning glare.
“What?” He’s not exactly heeding the warning in your eyes as his golden ones are already elsewhere, trailing down to where your hands are tucked tightly beneath your crossed arms. He moves his hand down to your wrist, giving it a small, playful tug. “We can start by relaxing here, hm? No good being all closed off like that.”
Fuck, he knows. He has to know. And he’s playing along—hard—and with a damn smirk on his face.
You release the breath you realise you were holding as you allow him to free your hands—letting your arms fall down to your sides—and Jake looks pleased, his grin growing across his stupid, handsome face. “There you go. See? Bet you’re feelin’ better already.”
You watch him with laser eyes as he steps past you and starts snooping around your hut with his tail swooshing behind him, the tip flicking at the end of each lazy arc. The hearth in the centre of your hut isn’t lit tonight—the day having been far too hot to warrant such flames—so you only have a couple of small lanterns lit on the table to give off the cosy light you desire. But other than that… everything in your room is in the exact same place as last night, so it makes you uneasy that Jake is glancing around with a strange, narrow-eyed expression, as if something is different and he’s trying to work out what.
He saunters over to your table, dragging two fingers across the surface before reaching for the small bowl that’s filled with oil—the oil that you used to massage him last night.
“Hm. Thought I could smell something,” Jake murmurs, bringing it up to his flaring nostrils.
“Careful with that,” you blurt, springing to his side quicker than an arrow from a bowstring as you bring your hand up over his to support the bowl. You’re not sure why, but it feels strangely… dangerous, like he’s nosing into something a bit too personal, even though it’s just your damn massage oil.
Jake’s ears twitch towards you in amusement. “What? Afraid I’ll spill it on those pretty furs of yours?” He nods to the pile of pale, fluffy rugs resting on the woven floor beside the unlit hearth. The rugs that, just hours earlier, you’d been writhing on with your pussy stuffed full of your fingers.
“No, it’s just…” you falter with flat ears as you look up and meet his amused gaze. He’s watching you far too closely for comfort with his big, honey-like eyes, and your weak knees threaten to give out as you realise it’s not the oil that’s dilating his pupils like that.
Distraction. Distraction could be your saviour.
You sink your fingertips beneath the layer of thick oil in the bowl before pulling them back out, rubbing the viscous fluid between them with your thumb and presenting it under Jake’s nose. “I’ll bet you can’t guess what it is?”
His brow quirks, accepting the challenge gladly as he shuts his eyes and inhales your fingers a lot deeper than he had the bowl, his chest expanding to make room for his puffed-up lungs. His exhale is a ticklish plume of hot air against your oil-covered fingers as he sighs out with the word “sweet” between his lips before taking another hit—grabbing your fingers in his free hand and holding them still while he completes his olfactory study. “Milk…” he sighs again, his eyes flicking open on you to reveal golden irises almost swallowed whole. “Mmm, I know. It’s coconut, right?”
“Wow… bingo,” a sharp laugh escapes you—genuinely surprised that he’s been able to pin that so fast and accurately. You lean up on unsteady tiptoes towards the bowl in his hand, taking a sniff yourself—the swirl of overwhelming tropical sweetness almost dizzying under your sensitive Na’vi nose. “Mm.” You let out a little sigh. “I could eat this stuff.”
You regret opening your silly mouth immediately as the words hang in the air like smoke in a cramped hut, and you tense—your eyes flicking open as you feel Jake’s entertained gaze sliding down your exposed neck. His hand is big enough to swallow yours entirely as he holds your oily fingers, and you can feel the slight, rhythmic pulse in his thumb. It’s a much faster and heavier thrum than you expect, and it takes you by a surprise that makes you wobble on your toes.
Jake’s chuckle escapes him in a quiet hiss as he gives you a once-over. “Steady there. How ‘bout we sit down, hm? Don’t want you passin’ out on me from this fever.”
Your mouth twitches wordlessly as he guides you by the hand like a sick patient to your place of rest—the place that’s still humming with the trace of your earlier release. You can’t fool yourself—your hut reeks of your sexual heat, and a blotchy flush starts creeping across your chest and shoulders at the thought that if you can smell it, Eywa only knows what a susceptible Na’vi male like Jake must be thinking.
He’s still holding the bowl in one hand as he gestures for you to sit, and despite your shaky knees, you manage to bend down more or less gently into a stiff, cross-legged position—drawing your dark waves over one shoulder as your tail curls neatly beside you. Your ears follow him like satellites as he moves behind you and clambers to his own seat with a soft pop of his knees, the tuft of his tail brushing past you on the way down.
“Agh, gettin’ old,” Jake chuckles, placing the bowl beside him with heightened care as to not spill any oil on your rugs. “Not as virile as I used to be.”
You can’t help but huff a small laugh at that, and it releases a little of the tension that’s clamming up your shoulder blades. “You’re not old.”
“Old enough,” he counters with a grin, shuffling up closer so his hitched legs are flanking you on either side like two safety barriers, and you feel the immense heat from his thighs radiating into your skin like an open flame. As much as you’re glad the fire isn’t lit—because by Eywa you would probably combust—you wish the crackle of flames could at least cover the acute sound of your heart hammering against your ribs and the soft, slow squelch of Jake starting to spread the coconut oil between his palms.
Wait… old enough for what?
“Now, don’t laugh,” he continues frankly. “Ain’t no expert like you are.”
“Ah, I’m not sure I am,” you titter back with airplane ears, drumming your fingers against your shins in your lap—your mind starting to whirl as your heart skips with rapid, spiralling anticipation for those very slick sounding hands to land on your back.
“Damn, this stuff is thick,” Jake murmurs as his hands glide over one another with a squish, in no apparent hurry at all as he plays with the texture of the syrupy, aromatic substance. “Feels like butter—“
“Jake. I need your hands on me, please,” you blurt quietly, your ears sinking further to your skull. It’s a meagre whine that comes out of nowhere, and the despair in your tone fills you with utter horror. You wish you didn’t have to be this pathetic, but with your chest heaving suddenly with the need to be touched, you’re left with little other choice. Your stupid heat pulses through you with a damn vengeance—the blotchy flush sitting on your skin burning you like a kiln, and you clamp your arms across your stomach, trying to hold it all in.
Your breath catches in your chest as a sudden blanket of treacly, delicious warmth shrouds your shoulder blades, cloaking you in pure heaven as Jakeplaces his hands on you at your request—splaying out all five digits before pressing them into your skin with the exact, devastating pressure your body is aching for.
“Fuck,” you whisper with your arms falling down loosely in your lap, your head lolling forward on its limp support as though he’s just drugged you.
“Jesus, sweetheart… should’ve said something sooner. Could’ve been helpin’ you out,” Jake murmurs—gliding long, blissful sweeps across the expanse of your back, his hands slipping over your curves like liquid silk with the slick of the coconut oil.
His fingers are already exploring around the sides of your mid-waist—encompassing the dips of the hourglass—his thumbs pushing deep yet tender digs into the soft flesh on either side of your spine. He rolls them all the way up, to the tips of your shoulders, before giving a good squeeze, and dragging them back down.
Fuck, it feels electric and comforting all at once. For a man claiming to be no expert in the field of massage, you immediately realise that Jake is extremely talented, and very modest. It makes you wonder what other talents he might have hidden up his sleeve, especially with all five of those fingers. The hot friction of his oil-coated pads are quickly sending long, warm ropes snaking into your stomach, ropes that are settling comfortably into an arousing coil deep in the pit of your groin.
Your little breathy moans are becoming harder to control and more pitiful sounding with each pass of Jake’s hands—your body reacting with a delicious shudder every time he reaches the back of your neck. He draws his fingers and thumb into a pinch as he rubs down the column of your neck—digging in a little more beneath your scalp—and you start seeing stars behind your eyelids.
“Is the pressure ok?” he mumbles, his voice a pleasant rasp behind your ear as his hands come to hover on your lower back, and he spreads his fingers out over your hips—his thumbs deliberately pushing into the two little dimples just above your glutes. That earns him a gorgeous little noise, and he takes it as an opportunity to pull you back closer to him—deeper into the hollow of his massive frame behind you, and your breath catches in your chest again without warning at the warm, half-hard bulge you can feel in his loincloth.
Your brain—or what’s left of it—tries to grapple for a last thread of dignity; some decency, perhaps—but as it’s sliding down your spinal cord quicker than molten
wax and your ovaries are screaming Jake’s name at the top of their lungs, you realise that you might just have to accept that you’re playing a losing game.
Jake’s fucking you tonight, and there’s not a single damn thing on Pandora that can help it.
“Can I take this off, baby?” He whispers beside your ear, leaning over your shoulder to take a look at you as his hands hover over the back of the sarashi that he soaked with tea when he spooked you earlier.
Baby. Oh Eywa. Your head flutters with something that resembles a nod as his fingers slide like anchors into the lip of your cloth wrap. He undresses you with watchful eyes over your shoulder, shimmying the tea-stained band down with slow patience until it drops to your hips—releasing your big, heat-swollen breasts.
You lean back into the crook of his neck as your eyes flutter closed, a quiet groan escaping you at the cool sensation of the air against your hardening nipples. Freeing them feels like a mercy and a provocation all at once—as though the air itself is caressing them—and you arch the small of your back against Jake in pleasure, your hands landing on his propped-up knees like an armrest.
“Need me to be gentle?” He asks, leaning down to ghost his lips over your temple as his eyes remain transfixed on your breasts. The intimate act feels oddly natural, considering Jake has never kissed or even touched you in this way before, and it takes you by surprise. It feels so normal, and right.
“Yes, please,” you breathe, looking up at him—and it’s only now that his gaze breaks from your chest, landing on your hazy green, pleading eyes. Jake’s own eyes are swimming with a muted fire that sends a fresh lick of flame straight to your core.
“So polite despite yourself,” he smirks wryly. “I admire that.” His ears twitch forward as his face swivels back to your breasts for a beat, before returning to hold your big-eyed stare with his hands snaking around the sides of your breasts from under your armpits. “Been admiring a lot about you.”
You gasp at the feel of Jake’s oily, warm hands slipping slowly over your skin—your little lips forming an ‘o’ at him—and he mimics you, his mouth dropping open before crawling into a savagely dirty grin. His dilated pupils balloon an impossible fraction more as he starts to knead at your weighty breasts with a soft gentleness you wouldn’t expect from hands that large and calloused. Capable hands—conditioned from years of holding up heavy metal yet softened by countless nights of carrying his sleepy young to bed over his shoulder. You can only imaginewhat else he can do with them—but right now—with the way your mind is spinning out of control from his touch, you can’t focus on anything other than what he’s doing to you.
You moan feebly, your brow pinching as you glance down in front of you to the cause of your insanity. Your legs have bowed together—your knees collapsed in with your loincloth lost in the tight space between your thighs—the thighs that are clenching automatically with every manipulation of Jake’s searing hands on your breasts. The warm lubricant of the coconut oil is the perfect aid for his heavy thumbs as they circle over the tender, aching plush, and the slick, wet sound of it vibrates all the way down to your toes.
You wince sharply between your teeth, your hands tightening on his knees as his fingers pinch the stiff peaks of your nipples—picking on the painfully sensitive buds.
“These sore?” Jake rumbles sympathetically, his flat nose pressing to your temple to graze another kiss over the clammy hair that’s stuck to it—pecking you better—and the warm plume of his breath under his nostrils makes you shiver.
“Y-yes,” you sigh. “But it feels good, too…”
“Yeah?” he mumbles, watching what he’s doing to you out the corner of his eyes as he pinches your nipples a fraction harder between his thumbs and forefingers before giving a small, delicious twist—making you gasp noiselessly—and you feel his breath growing heavier at the side of your face, his bulge now fully solid against your low back. “That feel good, baby?”
“Mmh,” you whimper, your head slumping further back against his collarbone, and this time, he leans down to find your face—a single dread toppling forward as he catches your swollen bottom lip between both of his in an agonisingly slow tease. He pulls back again, just enough to enjoy your green, glazed over eyes, before claiming your parted mouth as his entirely.
Your eyes roll somewhere far back in your head at the sensation of Jake’s lips. At his warm, demanding tongue that pushes its way in—sweeping over yours with a slick, wet sound that sends sharp sparks shooting through your core. At the taste of him—slightly bitter—filling your mouth with the heady, masculine pheromones that you’ve been desperately trying to coat your palate with since he arrived. His chin and jaw is rough with his unique, short stubble of hair—something so interesting that you’ve never experienced before during kissing—and the sensation sits between a tickle and a burn as he moves against your soft face. You can feel the vibration of his heart against his chest—a heavy, quick thud that matches your own, and you notice how his thighs tense under your hands, how his cock pushes tighter against you every time he drinks in your little moans.
As you drown in in the essence of Jake, you’re suddenly struck with a wave of panic at how your twitching body—a ticking bomb on the very short fuse of your heat—is reacting far too well to his incessant nipple teasing, his kissing, and the feel of his big dick behind you. The nipple stimulation is releasing all kinds of weird and pleasantly fuzzy hormones surging into your bloodstream, ones that have the power to make your hips stutter and your stomach heave. It’s a lot—too much and too soon, and with the way your thighs are clenching together, your hips jolting up in little, random spasms, you realise—with paling horror—that this is going to make you come.
The realisation settles like a stone in the pit of your stomach as Jake breaks from the kiss—his smug lips crudely wet and glistening—only to hunch forward over you—trailing his hot, rough mouth down to the throbbing peaks of your tits, replacing the friction of his thumbs on your nipples with the overwhelming feel of his savvy tongue. He sucks on the stiff, sensitive buds with a desperate hunger while his broad hands coast down either side of your waist—halting over the wide of your trembling hips to ground you with a gentle sweep of his thumbs back and forth, over the straps of your loincloth.
“Jake!” You whimper, digging your nails into his knees as he starts to get a little too excited with those sharp teeth of his, nipping with his fangs at your hard, tender areolas. The sharp sting very quickly settles into a warm flood of pleasure under the forgiving swirl of his soft wet tongue, and you’re right back to square one—the pressure between your legs swelling up double time after the pinch of pain.
You fidget under his relentless suckling, your embarrassment growing as quickly as the throbbing thrum of the building climax between your thighs. Jake can’t know that what he’s merely doing now is enough to have you completely undone. He cannot find out you’re this weak. There’s still the chance that he could be unaware of this whole situation, and you can walk away from this little escapade without the humiliation—come back to it all another day when you’re less likely to explode into smithereens under Jake’s heavenly mouth and hands…
The thoughts are a pitiful attempt at distraction, lost under the humming buzz of white noise as your warm, foggy climax rushes through you with a torment under Jake’s low, vibrational groan. The quick yet intense pleasure beats at your swollen folds as you hold your thighs clamped together very still—your body turning rigid—your stare fixed up at the ceiling beside Jake’s nuzzling head as you attempt to ride the orgasm out as coolly as you can muster.
Crap, fuck, mmmughh—
“Mmm,” Jake hums idly as your nipple releases from his mouth with a little pop. His eyelids flutter open as he brings his head back up to you with a shit-eating grin, and you try to shrink further back under the shelf of his jaw to hide your burning face.
“Hey, woah,” he coos, his voice wrapped up in a smirk as he brushes your cheek with his big knuckles, leaning out to the side to get a good look at you. “No need to be embarrassed, sweetheart. You’re allowed to feel good. Only fair after what you did for me last night.”
“Jake, this is a little… different,” you huff, hot and a little desperately as he’s now forcing your head to tilt to the side as his flat, feline nose nuzzles against you, planting strings of wet-lipped kisses along your jaw, his hand roaming its way to the centre of your loincloth. You feel his hard cock give a little nudge against your back through the barrier of its restraint, and you swallow at how incredible and hot it feels pressed up against you.
“Pssh, what difference does it make,” Jake winks, as though—in fact—making you come from his mouth over your breasts is actually how the massage comes as standard. “Still getting the tension outta ya one way or another,” he jokes lewdly as he slides his cupped hand over the throbbing mound beneath your tweng. “Christ, sweetheart. Think I’ve found the source of that fever of yours.”
Your ears go droopy as you lean into him, pushing your weight into his touch. “So much for ‘I’m no expert’,” you jest with a sigh.
A smooth chuckle reverberates from his chest at that, and you quiver while watching his fingers disappear underneath the top flap of your loincloth, over the soaked material underneath that’s clinging to the outline of your pussy. His fingers squelch the cloth against your swollen heat as he feels around—figuring out what he’s working with—and your willing thighs fall open to make room for him. Your head falls back against him as you release a moan—a sound that’s fast becoming a repetitive melody against the hushed quiet of your hut this evening.
Jake’s smile pinches to the side in a pout of contemplation. “Hm. I think we can do better than this,” he mutters, pulling away—leaving you aching from the loss of his touch and body heat as his knees slide back from your sides, and you struggle to stop yourself from whining and reaching for him like a needy child. He shuffles to a crouch, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks at you with an expectant grin. “Wanna lie down on your front for me, sweetheart?”
You don’t need to be asked that twice, keenly getting yourself to all fours and sliding to your stomach at his feet, your tail scooting over to one side as an invitation you don’t even realise you’re sending him.
“Thassit,” Jake murmurs, and he doesn’t hesitate to climb over—mounting you with a flick of his tail—shrouding you in his shadow against the lantern light as he traps you between the thick pillars of his arms and thighs. He hovers there a beat longer than necessary, before falling back to his haunches at your feet.
“Comfy?” He asks, giving your calves a slow, pleasant rub.
You hum, slipping your forearms under your cheek as a pillow to rest on. The soft tufts of the fur beneath you caress your oiled up breasts and stomach like a warm, ticklish hug, and without thinking, you circle your hips—chasing a delicious, relieving crack of your spine.
“Slinky little thing aren’tcha,” Jake laughs quietly as he leans over to the bowl, collecting a fresh slick of oil for his palms. “Really know your way round yourself.”
You titter as your ears flick back at that sound again—so squelchy and vulgar—and it tightens the hot coil that’s still lingering in your groin. It doesn’t help that Jake keeps talking like that, his voice all deep and gravelly and sending shivers through you. The rough strings hanging from his loincloth tickle your feet as he wraps his hands around your ankles, his thumbs brushing slow sweeps over the bones—until he runs them further down, to the bottoms of your sensitive soles. He gives them a good squeeze, and it makes you jolt with an involuntary giggle. Jake’s face darts up to you at the sound, his expression contorting into a wicked grin. “Ticklish?”
“Right there,” you laugh, and he shows no mercy at this discovery—his thumbs probing into the spongey pads beneath your heels before he wiggles his fingertips down to your flaring toes, and that makes you squeal uncontrollably.
“Shh,” Jake hisses in a hushed chuckle, moving away from your feet and shuffling forward on his knees so his weight is straddling your calves. “Keep it down, Jeez.”
“You’re making it very hard,” you hiss back, your ribs vibrating into the furs with your muffled giggling as he continues the ticklish assaults.
“You ticklish here?” He teases as he traces those loose, wiggling fingers over the soft backs of your jelly-like knees, up the lines of the tanhi on your thighs with a touch deliberately light enough to make your legs shake and your core squirm in peril.
“Shit, stop it!” you moan through a fresh fit of giggles—now gasping for air as he’s leaning over you, trailing the tickles up to the sides of your hips with his teeth bared in a silent, wolfish grin. He moves to the dips of your waist—your most sensitive spot—clawing with all those tremblingly light finger pads and thumbs and you just can’t take it anymore, your arms rushing back to bat him away as you twist on the teetering edge of hysteria. “Please, Jake, stop!!”
He tickles your sides again like a vice, tucking back in with another relentless wave until your hips are bucking up at him frantically and you feel like you might wet yourself. “You beggin’ me?” he taunts, his voice full of relish at the fits of silent, breathless laughter coming from you as your hands swat blindly behind you, slapping at his forearms.
Your flapping hands are caught in an abrupt, firm clutch, and your breath catches—the laughter falling flat in your lungs. Your tail whips his thigh in an automatic retort, and he transfers both of your wrists to one hand, freeing up his other so he can hold the base of your swishing tail still. “Calm down, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “Can’t relax you when you’re all flailin’ around like a nutcase.”
Your squirming stops momentarily. You fucking what? How dare he call you a nutcase when he’s the one tickling you like some sort of savage? You fumble as you try to conjure a remark to that—your irritation at Jake being a cheeky prick bleeding across your skin in a prickly, hot flush and you writhe again—purposefully—moaning your frustration while under his hold. Your sulk ends abruptly as the hand that was holding your tail claps down against your backside in a blunt slap, and you jolt from the sudden impact—going rigid and wide-eyed as a sizzling, hot sting starts to rush to the surface of the skin where Jake’s hand just struck you.
His splayed hand comes back down to rest upon it, rubbing a slow, sympathetic caress over your throbbing skin. “Did that hurt a bit, doll?” he rumbles, his voice a low coo laced with a taunt. “M’sorry.”
Your jaw hits the ground.
“You’re fucking not—“
A sharp, wet THWACK reverberates around the silent room—a harder spank that hits you with a force that tells you to watch your damn mouth—and Jake lunges forward on his knees to quickly muzzle your loud cry with the palm that just inflicted the very damage. You feel every nerve in your struck backside catching fire with a heat that rivals the blossoming fever deep in your groin, already knowing the blood is rushing to the surface of your skin in the shape of his handprint without needing to see it.
“Shh,” Jake hisses again, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Don’t go wakin’ up the whole damn village, sweetheart.”
Your eyes are big and glassy as you roll them up to meet his heavily half-lidded ones. He holds your defenseless gaze with his hand still covering your mouth as his other finally releases its shackle around your wrists, and your hands fall to the floor—your fingers clawing into the plush of the furs. You hold your breath beneath his palm as his warm, oily thumb contacts a sensitive pussy fold that’s peeking out at the side of your loincloth—brushing past it—before his hand loops around in a stroke over your rear, then back to the same spot with a more deliberate stroke.
You lose focus on his stare as the shivery heat takes over you, your body throbbing with a rage for that thumb to be buried inside of you—his fingers, his cock. You wish his hand wasn’t blocking your mouth as you have the sudden desperate urge to beg Jake for all of it—shamelessly—but as you’re thoroughly muzzled, you settle with rolling your hips up to meet his brushing thumb with little, stifled moans into his palm—grinding against it every time it rubs past your pussy. It’s a tease that has you coiling up inside, your muscles clenching against the sopping material of your tweng.
You can hear Jake’s chest growing heavier as he sneaks his thumb under the wet material to push it to the side, spurred on by your whimpering noises. Your thighs quiver and tense up as he plays with your slick lips before sinking the weight of his thumb fully into your cunt—the thick, warm digit immediately getting absorbed by the hungry suction of you.
“Fuck,” Jake breathes, captivated at the way his thumb disappears into your slit to the hilt, and you feel the curse through the vibration of his hand over your mouth. He shuffles on his heels, his fingers twitching against your mouth as he draws his thumb all the way back out—circling it around your open entrance with a wet squelch—before slipping it back in deeper, bending at the knuckle and pushing it down into the soft, spongey spot inside you.
Your pussy starts pulsing around his thumb within seconds—the stretch a relieving pressure that matches the intensity of your heat, and your hips buck up frantically to get more of that friction you need. His thumb slips out only to be instantly replaced with two big fingers—his pinky slipping underneath to give your swollen clit some attention—and with this position—he picks up to a rhythmic pace, fingering you with an intention no longer to tease, but to get you off.
Jake’s aroused eyes flick up to where you’re muffling against his hand like a drowning otterfin, your knuckles paling where you’re gripping onto the fur in little rhythmic clenches. Your breath suddenly hisses out in a sharp, desperate rush as he releases his grip on your mouth just enough for you to move your lips, and you immediately push your tongue against his palm with a loud whimper, lapping at his palm with a desperate, unadulterated thirst. His skin tastes of the sea breeze that’s still clinging to him from the day as he curls his fingers into your mouth, and you take them—sucking on them as hard as you wish it was the thick length hidden under his loincloth instead, your cheeks hollowing out around them as you bob back and forth.
“Mm, shit baby, you like that?” Jake’s gravelly groan vibrates through his trembling fingers in your mouth, and he slips another finger into your slit to join his other two, stretching you deliciously wide as he starts to pump them in and out faster and with more pressure, hitting the spot that has your walls clenching onto him in a vice grip. He muffles your wails with his salty fingers stuffed deep into your mouth as you writhe until your climax finally breaks over you onto his sodden, squelching hand, sending violent, delicious tremors shaking through your entire frame.
Your trembling hands come up to pull his fingers from your mouth, and you gasp for breath, holding onto Jake’s wrist as you start to lick wide strokes over every inch of his hand in a frantic, orgasm-drunk daze. He pulls back, leaving you chasing him as he straightens back up onto his heels—giving you the space to roll around and face him.
You’re met with the sight of Jake with a flushed, arrogant grin sat on his face—his teeth bared and glinting with pure smug, masculine pride at what he’s just done to you—and it’s enough to have you jolting upright, possessed by a fierce, burning heat flaming through your veins.
The air is punched from Jake's lungs as you lunge for him, pinning him onto his back against the hard coolness of the woven floor. His forearm slams against the ground whilst his other lands on the small of your waist as he’s swallowed up in your frenzied, open-mouthed kissing.
The restraint you held in your hands just the night prior is a distant fog of a memory as they run tremulously over every inch of his soft, warm skin now—feeling him up without shame or a second thought—filling your palms with the contours of his shoulders, the strong plush of his chest, the small peaks of his nipples. You break from his lips to trail your open mouth down the length of his neck, and Jake rolls his head back with a low rumble in his throat to let you. You drape your teeth and tongue over his strings of tanhi, over the fibres and beads of his necklace—enjoying every inch of the intoxicating, salty taste of him. You get lower—finding his collar bones, his chest, his stomach—dragging possessive licks over the two moles next to his navel, your dark coils of hair falling in a curtain around your face.
“Good God, baby… think I’m forgiven for spankin’ you, huh?” Jake mutters under his breath as he enjoys the view of you worshipping his body, his hooded eyes following your descending head lazily.
“I haven’t decided yet,” you breathe as you find your fingers fumbling in the ties of his loincloth. His abs clench as he flexes his core upward to reach down and help you out—finishing off what you can’t manage—before untying yours too as you tug the band of your sarashiup over your head and toss it to the side.
Your loincloth drops down between Jake’s thighs, and a low, hungry sounding growl escapes him as he peers down at your fully exposed cunt hovering over him. “Oh fuck, that’s nice,” he sighs, his bottom lip getting pinched under his teeth as he glides his fingers down the glint of your smooth, wide centre under the dim light. He pushes his thumb into the little erect button that is your clit, and it makes you gasp.
“ Jake,” you wince, your brows pinching together as your thighs clench into his at the overwhelming touch.
“Sensitive?” he asks, although his thumb doesn’t budge.
“Very,” you sigh out, your eyes fluttering shut at the small, circular massage he’s starting to tease your clit with.
“Need somethin’ bigger to help you out?”
Your dazed eyes fling back open, and you glance down to see that he’s shifted his loosened loincloth out of the way and is caressing his thick length in his other hand with a feral grin on his face, his ears flared low and heavy next to his head. A hot pulse shoots like a spark through your clit at the sight, bumping against Jake’s thumb with a strength you’re certain he can feel.
Well, fuck. The heavy, upward curve of the beast is more stunning than you wish it was for your own heated sanity’s sake, and your dilated eyes roam helplessly over it—over the little, pretty glowing freckles of tanhi that throb up the veins of his glorious, soft blue shaft. Your dumbed mouth parts to make way for the thick, potent smell that hits you in full force now that his manhood is fully exposed—that heady aroma that you were catching whiffs of earlier now swirling around your head and making you dizzy. You want to reach for it immediately, desperate to feel the thick weight burying deep inside of your aching heat.
Jake chuckles deeply, his teeth glinting in the lantern light as he clearly sees you looking like you’re just about ready to pounce on him again. “You like it?” He teases, his breath coming out ragged as he strokes himself, and you watch him with your mouth falling further agape—hypnotised by the languid movement of it in his hand. The thin veil of his foreskin rolls up to conceal the swollen purple tip—and back down the thick centre again—revealing the exposed head glossy with a sleek layer of faintly bioluminescent pre-cum that glows softly in the dark of the room. The size of the beast in his cupped grip looks like it could satiate you for the entirety of your heat cycle, and as you stare at it—wide-eyed and practically drooling—your brain has a small battle over the conflict of whether you want to bury it ten inches down your throat within the next 5 seconds or cram it straight into your fluttering heat.
Your heat quickly decides for you as you whine with an orgasmic contraction from Jake’s quickening thumb circles—a hint for you to hurry the fuck up as he also groans, his head falling back against the floor with his quickening tugs. His hips make little rolls up, and you take a swift plunge—shuffling forward on your shaky knees to line your entrance up with the tip of his erection. You can feel the heat radiating off of the head like a physical weight against your wet centre, and Jake is quick to move his hands to clutch your hips, guiding you down the length of him. The air hangs thick as you both hold your breath and watch as your slick folds swallow him up whole.
You barely hear Jake choke on his growl over your own brutal whine as he penetrates you—stretching you wide to fill that empty space that’s been bubbling like a furnace with your heat—and your vision blurs at the immense relief of it, as though two starving elements of nature have finally converged. You feel his bulbous cock-head bump against something deep inside of you, and your pussy clenches around him with a fierce, unyielding grip that refuses to let him go.
“Oh fuck, Jake,” you whine as your body hastily gears into action to take what it needs—grinding down into him while your hands come to fall behind you on his thick, tensing thighs. Jake anchors you by your hips with a strong grasp, and you can feel the strength of his arms working in tandem with your grinding rhythm—helping you move back and forth to achieve the satisfying vigour he knows you need.
“God, you’re tight,” he rasps, his voice vibrating through your body as his legs twitch against the floor between your straddled thighs. His brows furrow over his dark, blown out eyes as he watches your bouncing chest as you ride him—fast—using him to fulfil nature’s need as you fuck yourself to the brink. His hips roll up in short but powerful thrusts to meet yours—your mingling sweat and bodily fluids creating an obscene, slick slapping sound around the hushed hut.
“Mm, your cock is so good,” you whimper with your spine in a deep arch, your face tossed to the heavens as you become a breathless, unravelled mess of pleasure upon the man you were thinking of when you fingered yourself earlier. “Right there… oh fuck, oh Jake—”
Your clit is already stimulated to the throbbing edge, aided by the friction of his rough groin rubbing against you as you move back and forth. Your chest heaves in short, shallow breaths as you come apart—quick and hard—releasing a hot gush of your slick arousal over his stomach as you silently scream, your knees burning from the graze of friction against the floor.
“Ugh, fuck, good girl,” Jake growls proudly with his ears pinned back, grabbing a hold of both of your jiggling breasts in a tight squeeze as he watches the mess you’ve made on him trickling down his sides. “Takin’ all that heat out on me so well, angel.”
You falter with a shaky, cracked whine as you fail forwards onto him, your sweaty chest collapsing flush against Jake’s rapid heart. He lets you regain your composure, kissing the top of your head as he sweeps slow strokes over your damp hair while you lie on him in a fucked-out daze. He’s still buried deep inside of you, and you feel his throbbing length give the occasional, impatient twitch in reaction to the teasing of your walls’ sporadic, post-orgasm clenching.
It’s only now that you’re satiated in a melted shambles upon the bed of his chest that Jake takes the reins from you, driven by biological instinct to finish what needs to be finished—to take you the way he needs—and empty the load that’s been building up all day at the call of your heat. He kisses your forehead one more time as he sits up with your limp body in his lap, his arms tightening in a loop around the small of your waist as he gets to his knees and shuffles you back onto your furs.
The fluffy material feels stifling as it sticks to your sweaty back, but you’re on such an ethereal high from coming so much that you barely care to notice it. You only notice the gorgeous man that’s currently pinning you from above, his dreads almost tickling your flushed cheeks as he looks down at you with an unrestrained pride that makes you feel like you’re all his, even if it is just for the night.
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” Jake slurs in a deep rumble, his golden eyes big and glazed as he looks down into yours like he means it. As if, for a moment, you’re the only girl on Pandora he has eyes for.
He starts moving inside of you again, pushing his weight down to make your thighs straddle open wider for his thrusting hips. You stare back up at him as you watch him take you with little, shallow breaths escaping your parted lips, the plush of your breasts rolling back and forth every time he bottoms out against the limit of what he can, hitting that deliciously fulfilling spot that makes your toes curl against him.
Jake lifts himself just enough to lower his gaze between your thighs—getting a good view of the action down there—watching how his lubed-up shaft slips in and out, until that show proves to be a bit too good to watch, and he moans, his face rolling to the ceiling in a slack-jawed expression of pure bliss. It leaves his throat exposed to you, and you enjoy this new view of his muscular neck being squeezed tightly by his Olo’eyktan necklace. It’s a stomach dropping reminder that you’re currently being fucked by a very misbehaving man who isn’t yours—and you reach up to feel it, running your fingers past the beaded band over his slick skin. You can see his pulse jumping beneath his jaw rapidly as he pants with the effort of burying his weight inside of you, his face twitching slightly with each wave of pleasure.
You reach for his shoulders—your fingers knitting the muscles that are tensed up in an entirely different way than last night—offering him a massage while he works hard to fuck himself into you. It’s all you want—to please him, to make him feel good, and it’s the least you can do for how good he’s made you feel tonight.
Jake looks back down at you, his parted lips shifting into a strained smile. “Treatin’ me well even while I’m drivin’ you into the mat, huh?” he chuckles jaggedly. “God, what’d I do to deserve an angel like you?”
He leans down to capture your lips in a kiss—one that’s messy and urgent—his teeth catching on your bottom lip, and he releases a deep groan into your mouth as he falters under a strong orgasmic contraction, one that you can feel as his thick wet base twitches rhythmically at your entrance. “Oh fuck, baby, this cunt’s gonna make me cum,” he rasps, his hips hitching in a sudden, heavy stutter.
He adjusts himself so he can clutch onto the plush flesh of your thigh, pushing you further into the floor with his weight to work at an angle slightly to the side that has you gripping onto his dreads with a moan. He picks up to a much faster and rougher pace than you could ever ride him with, and his grip on your thigh becomes bruising as he gets close. You can feel how his scrotum is wrinkled tightly with pent up pressure—a coiled spring ready to snap—and it has you stifling a wail that you really wish you could cry out with if it wasn’t for the fact it’s the dead of night, and there could be susceptible Na’vi ears in the huts nearby. You’re unsure if you can physically handle another orgasm, but—despite yourself—you decide to help Jake out by using what little strength you have left in your legs to snake around his waist and latch yourself to him like an ikran to a cliffside.
Jake mouths quiet, garbled cusses next to your ear as his back arches up with a rigid tension, his tail a mad snake as it undulates behind him in spastic thrashes through the air. His legs shuffle against the floor like he’s trying to crawl impossibly further up inside you. You bury your face into his warm sweaty neck, biting down on him to cover up your weary cry as he has your tight walls clenching up with one last climax—a final surge of exhausted, spent heat releasing from you, and it’s enough to have Jake tumbling over his well-earned edge.
His breath hisses out next to your ear in a ragged, desperate rush, and for a dazed moment—you think he might not have it in him to pull out with the way he keeps pounding you—that he’s going to fill you with his seed, and by Eywa your fertile body would take to that right now. But alas—as much as you’re dying to know how it feels to be filled up with Jake’s hot load—bearing a half-reef, half-forest child of a Sky Person warrior wouldn’t be the best idea—all things considered—and Jake’s feeble amount of remaining logic clearly knows it, too.
You can only admire his sheer strength as Jake quickly pulls out—reluctantly—his length weeping as it’s wrenched from its tight, hot paradise with a slick pop sound. He ejaculates immediately in his rough, pumping fist as he’s hunched over you, staring at your body through a hooded, unfocused gaze. A deep, guttural rumble vibrates from his throat as he shoots hot, glowing ropes up over your front—one shooting out with enough force that it hits you in the jaw and makes you flinch, before landing in a trickling stream down your chest. It almost burns as it hits you, but cools quickly, and you stare down in awe at your skin glowing with his bioluminescent release.
“Oh fuck,” he pants with a slightly hysterical hiss of a laugh as his forehead flops against your shoulder. He releases his twitching shaft from his grip—needing both of his hands to hold himself up on either side of you as he tries to remember how to breathe—letting his heavy, spent length hang between your thighs with a thin, glowing string of his release trailing from the slit.
Fuck. How does the sight of that still warm your completely satiated loins? You can’t help but reach down over your stomach to take a swipe at the thick liquid he’s spilled on you—testing the consistency between your fingers and thumb—parting them to watch it make a sticky glowing bridge. You flick your eyes up to Jake’s completely fucked, hazy stare, and you watch his big pupils flare a little as you take a taste—slipping a coated fingertip between your lips and giving it a suck. As you can guess, it tastes as deliciously salty and bittersweet as the rest of him. If only you could bottle that essence…
“Dirty girl…” Jake rumbles with a smirk twisting his face.
“Sorry,” you grin as your face flushes impossibly more. “You taste good…”
“Yeah?” He pushes the wide, flat bridge of his nose down to rest against yours, his eyelashes tickling you. “Maybe next time I’ll make you swallow the lot of it.”
The notion of a next time and the thought of gulping back the entire hot, heavy rush of Jake’s release makes you all flustered despite your heavy eyelids, but as he rolls to his back on the fur beside you with a deep hum through his nose, bringing an arm up to rest under his head like his work here is complete, you know that you need to stop being such a horny freak and let him rest. You settle with crawling onto the side of him with your hand coming to rest on the slowing thrum of his chest, and he brings a heavy, comforting arm around you from behind—scooting you closer to him so that you’re snuggling into the crook of his sweaty armpit, your leg tangling over one of his.
Jake’s hand shifts to cup your rear you both lie there—all heavy and satiated—and he gives a quick, cheeky slap right over the skin that’s still sensitive from its earlier beating, making you flinch in a sudden jerk.
“Ow! Skxawng,” you grumble, retaliating by giving him a good flick to the chest.
Jake just chuckles like he finds your revengeful efforts cute, making you oscillate with his bobbing frame beneath you. “Nah, you loved it.”
Your lips pinch together. True.
“Nutcase.”
Your head rolls up to him in a slow, silent wrath, and you glimpse his half smirk in the dark as he lies there with his eyes closed at the ceiling—looking all pleased with himself and deeply satisfied. It makes you want to slap him and kiss him all at once.
You murmur a quiet sound of disapproval as you rest your head back down against his comfy chest, defeated by the heavy, languid sleepiness and the toasty satisfaction that’s now humming in your low gut and keeping the discomfort of your heat at bay. You stretch your legs out long, flexing and wiggling your toes beneath you as your face scrunches up in a big yawn against Jake.
You barely notice the sleep taking over you as you drift off—that warm, hazy blanket slowly shrouding the edges of your thoughts as the steady rhythm of Jake’s breathing under your ear lulls you away. You twitch innocently when his lips ghost over your shoulder and he slowly unpeels himself from your sticky skin, leaving you there—sleeping and satiated on your furs—wearing nothing but his kiss and the dried traces of his fulfilment, as he reluctantly slips away to wash the sweet, floral scent of your heat from his skin.
synopsis: tsireya's shy and gentle nature is the most pure thing in the world, but you can't help but want to ruin it and see what will happen when she's put in not so innocent situations.
tags: MDNI, masc reader, sully sibling, lo’ak’s twin, shy girl x confident girl, wlw, fingering, pussy eating, sweet talk, dirty talk, she wants her so bad, we’re aged up but still reckless and young stage, public but no ones there, hair pulling, kissing, sexual thoughts
wc: 2.9k+
a/n: okay so fun fact this was the first thing i ever started writing, then i ditched it, then i came back to it and lowk entered flow state. PLS ENJOY
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Tsireya was by far the most beautiful girl you had ever laid eyes on, and it only took you a matter of seconds to come to this conclusion.
From the second you saw walking out the water when you first arrived, your mind had been plagued with thoughts of her bright eyes and smooth skin. The way she smiled and ducked her head when she was shy, tucking her hair behind her ears, or the way she would push you and giggle when you got too close or touched too long.
But mostly your mind had been taken over by things that hadn’t even happened, yet you wanted them too, so badly.
The way those same lips that smiled at you would feel against your own, or how her skin would taste as you kiss her up and down her body.
She was just so sweet and oblivious to the power she held over you, that every day it felt like a battle to keep yourself under control, to wait just a little bit longer before you had her how you wanted her, mouth open and breathless, tight pussy clenched around your long fingers.
But you were only a person after all. You couldn’t wait forever.
“Bro if you keep staring your eyes are gonna fall out.” Lo’ak mutters, pushing your face and breaking the gaze you had on tsireya as she played with her baby sister and tuk in the water. You only chuckle, shaking your head before turning to face him, his eyebrows already raised.
“Like your not enjoy the view.” You reply, a smirk forming on your lips as you watch him grin and shake his head. “I am,” he shrugs, “I just think if you’re gonna stare at her like you want to eat her then you should go do something about it.”
“I will,” you nod, your eyes falling back onto her as she kneels in the water, “Just want to give her a few more days of peace, cus when i get my hands on her..” you whistle lowly, the same smirk from earlier reappearing on your face. Lo’ak immediately shoves you.
“You’re so horny bro get a grip.” He grumbles, but the mischievous grin he shares with you is there, and like a disease it spreads to your face as you shift you body towards him slightly in the sand, mimicking him as you stretch your legs out infront of you and lean back on your arms.
“I can’t,” you shrug, complaining. “Like I physically cannot get a grip. I just need to get her alone for long enough bro.” At the start it was easy, everyone was hesitant to explore, so they aimed to stick together, but now, multiple months in, your family was everywhere, and you couldn’t be alone with the reef girl for more than 10 minutes before one of your siblings, or one of her friends found you and interrupted.
Lo’ak thought for a moment, leg swinging slightly as he tried to figure out a way to help you. This was you favorite part about having a twin, and despite him being the opposite gender to you, there was no barriers between you guys. This meant that topics that you 100% couldn’t discus with Neteyam or Kiri, you could always bring up with your twin, because he got you, and you got him.
“Okay,” he starts, sitting up and crossing his legs, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, instinctively causing you to do the same, as well as shuffle forward slightly. “How about this. Friday, while everyone is at the bonfire celebrating the return of the Tulkun, you take her away-” You open your mouth to interrupt, but Lo’ak only lifts his hand, a finger stopping you from whatever concern you were about to bring to surface, “You take her away, literally anywhere other than the main shore, do your thing. I stay lookout at the bonfire, make sure no one goes looking for you. You go, do what your clearly desperate to do, come back, and no one notices your disappearance. I’ll cover for you both.”
You sit there and look at him, replaying his plan through your head. Lo’ak’s plans weren’t really known for working, but the more you went over it, the more you realised that it may actually work, in fact, it had no reason not to.
“Okay…” you nod, your grin returning to your face as you interlock your hands, “….that could work!”
Lo’ak only smiled, brushing imaginary dust of his shoulders.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The rhythmic beating of loud drums filled the air around you as you laughed with Neteyam and Lo’ak, the three of you stood to the side of the gathering while people around you talked and danced.
You could see the Olo'eyktan and his family in the distance, finishing off their greetings as members of the clan came to them.
Minutes later Ao'nung and Tsireya were dismissed, and they both rushed over to you, Kiri and Roxto following when they saw everyone else in the group gathering.
"This festival is so much better than last years!" Ao'nung exclaimed, raising his voice so everyone could hear him, "we're finally allowed to drink!" Just as he said this, a group of warriors walk past with their bowls, handing a few to the oldest two of the group, Ao'nung and Neteyam.
While everyone became preoccupied with the drinks, you slipped yourself in between Tsireya and Roxto, sliding your hand into the girls' to get her attention. "Come." You leaned in and whispered, and with no argument she listened, letting herself be dragged away from the crowd and towards the homes.
You glanced over your shoulder once as you both walked away and caught Lo'ak's eye. He sent you a cheeky wink, then quickly brought the attention of your friends to him so your sneak away would be successful.
You forgot all about your twin and friends though as soon as your eyes landed back on the beautiful girl walking alongside you, her hand stein intertwined with yours.
She meets your gaze and smiles softly, cheekbones high and hair let down in elegant curls. "Where are we going?" She asks, tone soft and eyes even softer.
You're so lost in her beauty you almost forget to answer, but a tilt of her head and a squeeze of your hand snaps you back to reality and you quickly return her smile.
"We're just going for a walk, is that okay princess?" She quickly nods and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, letting you lead her away from the crowd. Whether she knows what your intentions are or not, she’s letting it happen, and a small spark of hope lights up in you.
You don’t walk in silence for long, Tsireya’s voice cutting through the sounds of waves crashing onto the shore as she talks you through her outfit. How the neck piece was handed down from her grandmother, and the arm band something she and Ao’nung has made together when the were 13 and 14.
“And this is the one you made,” she said, pointing down at her ankle, a light blush covering her cheeks. “When you first came, remember?” And how could you forget.
How could you forget the time you almost drowned trying to find the pearls and Neteyam had to come save you, or how you stayed up till the early hours of the morning to finish it as fast as possible.
How could you forget the dazzling smile she gave you when you handed it to her, the same one that’s had you hooked for months.
You looked down at her ankle, a smirk growing on your face. The anklet, despite being poorly weaved and tied, was your best work yet. Literal blood, sweat and tears put into it. It was a dark blue with light teal accents, pearls dotted through it to give it that girly touch. You had noticed it, she wore it everyday from the second she woke till the second she slept.
"It looks nice, suits you." You look up and make eye contact with her, "my colour suits you."
Her blush gets darker, and she looks away as her smile expands even further across her face.
She was so shy it physically pained you.
You took a peak at you scenery, the bonfire now very far behind you, the marui of the people a barrier in between. The part of the beach you led her to was secluded, tall palm trees hiding a clearing.
"Why are we here?" Tsireya asked, disconnecting her hand from yours so she could go lay on the sand and stargaze. The loss of contact had you following close behind her, quickly laying next to her on your side, head perched on your hand.
"No reason, I told you I just wanted to go on a walk."
"Yeah but we're not walking anymore, we're laying." She turned her head to look at you, and for the second time tonight you're at a loss of breath, her pretty face the only thing your brain can focus on.
You reach over and tuck a stand of her hair behind her ear, letting your hand stroke the side of her face. She pauses and her breath catches, but just as quickly she relaxes, placing a hand on top of yours and curling her fingers around your middle finger.
The whole sight makes you want to take her right that second, her big eyes staring into your soul, small hand a contrast against your big one.
Thank Eywa for your fathers genetics.
"What?" She whispered.
You shake your head, "nothing, just admiring." And there it is again, your favourite thing in the world, her smile joined with a faint blush on her cheeks.
Now or never.
You push off the ground with the hand that was holding your head and lean over Tsireya slightly. She moves to sit up as well, but the hand that was on her face quickly moves down to her chest to keep her down. She stays down, but she's confused. "Are you oka-"
"Can I kiss you?"
Her mouth drops and her eye's widen, "What?"
"Can I kiss you? Like, can I put my lips on yours?"
She shakes her head, then nods, both movements rapid, "no, no yeah I know what kissing is." She sits up again and this time you let her, taking your hands off of her completely as she sits on her knees and you stretch your legs out on either side of her. "Yeah... okay."
You're smiling as you lean forward, a hand already reaching out before she stops you. "Wait! Wait I don't know what to do."
You tilt your head, "you've never kissed someone before?"
"No, I have. But like," she waves her hands around, "it was like one guy, three years ago."
You laugh when she says this, poor little innocent Tsireya who's only ever kissed an immature boy. You reach out and place your hands on her waist, pulling her in and onto your lap, a thigh on either side of you. "This is going to be so much better than that baby, don't worry."
And then you're kissing her, softly placing your lips on hers as her hands go to the back of your head. One tangles through your tied up braids and the other brushes the back of your neck, grazing your shaved head from your undercut.
Her lips are everything you've ever imagined, big and soft and plump, and taste as sweet as she looks, faint traces of alcohol on her. She's slow in her movements, hesitant. But you couldn't accept that. You needed as much of her as possible as soon as you can.
Your hands grip her waist tighter and you pull her as close as physically possible, lips moving against hers with more passion. A small sound escapes her as you grind her down onto your thigh, and you immediately swallow it down, using the opportunity to slide your tongue into her mouth.
Its painfully obvious how inexperienced she is, but it just turns you on even more. The fact that no ones had her like this before, that you're the one who's going to ruin her.
The kissing went from slow and measured to wet, fast and messy, your hands sliding up her back, touching as much of her as you can, then all the way back down to squeeze her ass and grind her into you even more. Her hands are digging into your hair and pulling roughly, causing you to let out moans of your own.
You're kissing and touching and moaning and it's amazing, it's everything you've dreamed of and more. But still it's not enough, you want more of her, all of her.
You break the kiss to catch your breath, watching her do the same, then quickly push her off of you and onto the sand. Your lips reattach themselves to her neck continuing to kiss her, then sucking harshly right below her jaw when she lets out a particularly loud moan.
Your hands move frantically as your lips lower, reaching behind her and untying her ceremonial top, dashing it to the side and immediately taking off the loincloth with it, wasting zero time.
You detach from her for a few seconds, leaning up onto your knees in between her legs to admire her. Small waist, thick thighs, big tits.
You're going to cum just looking at her.
It all moves very fast after that, your lips attack her breasts, kissing, sucking, marking. She's a mess above you, gasping and moaning, her hips grinding up into you and pussy dripping.
You move quickly down her body, anxious to get to her arousal.
And when you do its like breathing air for the first time.
You start off slow, appreciating the fact its her first time, and place a small kiss right on her clit. Her breathing is a mess, her body shaking in anticipation. "Is this okay?" You ask, voice deep and your own breaths coming out short. You can feel her nodding frantically, but you click your tongue and shake your head. "Words please babygirl."
"Yes! Yes please, more."
And her wish is your command.
Your head lowers again and you stick your tongue out, licking a long stripe from her dripping hole, down the middle of her lips, up to her clit where you close your lips around it, sucking once sharply.
You glance up at Tsireya, her heads thrown back and her mouths wide open. You let out out a groan and shift, picking her legs up off the sand next to you and putting them both over your shoulders, her own hands instantly digging into your hair.
You attack her pussy this time, tongue flicking at her clit and a finger going inside her. She's tight, but she can take one finger. Her moans increase in volume as you pump your it in and out, deciding maybe too quickly to add a second since she took the first one so good.
Your mouth stays on her clit, keeping her stimulated, and you move your second finger in rhythm with your first. Her pussy's gripping your fingers, clenching and unclenching around you as you attempt to drive them in deeper. "Fuck you're so tight baby," you mumble, "taking my big fingers like a good girl." Then you twist your hand slightly and curve your fingertips, and you feel her legs shake above you.
"Oh- oh shit. Faster, faster." She moans out, pulling on your braids right at your scalp. You moan into her and speed you fingers up, and the vibrations knock through her.
Her legs begin to violently shake, her back arching off the ground and pussy grinding right into your face as she moans louder and louder, your name falling out her mouth like a prayer.
You can tell she's close and your excitement gets the best of you. In a second you've slipped a third finger in and used your other hand to pinch her clit and rub at it, attatching your mouth to her inner thigh and sucking hard.
Like a jenga tower she falls apart, thighs squeezing your head and hips bucking off the ground, her mouth open in a silent moan as she comes all over your fingers.
Your quicky to pull your fingers out and replace them with your mouth, tongue digging in deep to scoop every last drop out of her and into you.
Her whole body flops onto the sand, still twitching as you keep licking away like you might die if you let anything go to waste. It isn't until she pulls you away by the grip she still has on your hair do you get up, her legs dropping off of your shoulders.
When you're up on your knees and can clearly see all of her again, you grin widely. Your mouth and chin are glistening in her juices, and your hair has fallen out its bun and now falls messily down your back.
"Did you like that?" You ask, moving back up her body and placing your arms on the side of her head. She nods quickly, chest rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath. You lean down and kiss her softly, a hand coming to cup her face.
When you lean back again your brain takes a mental picture of her, her beautiful and undone she looks just from your mouth and fingers.
As you lay beside her and pull her up onto your chest, you can't help but get excited over the fact that you've done it, you've bagged Tsireya.
Pairing(s): Jake (kinda) + Lo'ak x Gender-Neutral Reader
Content(s): My version of Jake's argument with Lo'ak but including an older sibling reader. Angst/Comfort, Arguing, Lo'aks suicide attempt, Reader is mean to Jake (slightly). Takes place in AFAA, after Neteyam's death.
[A/n]— wrote this in one day, no it's not proof read.
You and Neteyam were thick as thieves. As twins, you understood each other better than most, and while a part of you hated to admit it, you were closer to him than the rest of your siblings.
You understood each other on a level that didn't require words, that didn't need an explanation. One look, and you both understood the other. You understood his burden as the first born son, you understood that he didn't just act like the “Golden child” Because he wanted too. He did it not to cause problems, much like you. Being quite meant being out of the way.
Understanding the lessons of patience, and acceptance were a necessity. You and Neteyam had a job, watch the others, keep them safe. You didn't do it because you had too, not really— but because you wanted too. Being mature meant being one less problem on your parents shoulders, the rage of war was heavy, and you both couldn't add to their stress.
Stay put. Stay out of the way. Watch your siblings. Keep them out of trouble.
You both heard it a million times it felt like. So you did, just to not be a burden on your family's shoulders. To carry the Sully name as you were told to, you had to be strong, brave, and resilient, but you were just kids. In times of silence, you and Neteyam would sit side by side, enjoying the stillness, enjoying the reprieve from constant expectations.
Neteyam was your anchor, and you were his. You understood each other, watched out for each other.
But now he's gone. Your anchor is gone. Your rock, vanished.
You mourned in silence. Don't cause problems. You sat alone more often than not, ears constantly pinned back, a white strip painted down the front of your body to show your grief. Get up, you'd tell yourself. Forcing yourself up into your feet, forcing yourself to move with the world, because the world would never stop moving.
“Come” Jake had said to you one morning, and as the dutiful oldest child, you did. “We're going to search the water for weapons, I need all the hands I can get” Your father spoke as he always did, clipped and practiced. He spoke to you as if you were a soldier instead of his child, and sometimes you wonder if that is for the best.
“Yes sir” You nodded, slipping into the water before calling for your ilu. You felt so detached. The world is more bleak without Neteyam to keep you steady. You missed your twin, having felt as if the other half of you died with him that day, and if your father had noticed, then he must've decided not to acknowledge it.
Just like always.
The thought was sharp in your mind, diving with your ilu to follow after Jake, but the bitterness didn't leave. It burned. It aches in the back of your throat like a caged animal, trying to claw its way out. Anger was something you felt more of lately, shimmering beneath the surface like a hurricane ready to form. It poisoned you, it poisoned your thoughts, lingering in your mind within every hour of the day.
Maybe it was formed once Neteyam died, or maybe it was always there, brewing beneath the surface, waiting to bleed out. You needed to keep it down, needed to keep being the responsible one, the reliable one.
So you did. Spending countless hours with your father and Lo'ak searching the sea floor for guns. Tsireya was there too with Ao'nung and Roxto, you didn't pay them much thought. That was until Lo'ak surfaced with your mother's bow, the wood snapped in half, the string loose. Something in your heart twisted, Lo'ak looked for it. He thought of it. He knew what it meant to Neytiri, how it may lift her spirits.
It was a rare moment where you saw more in your younger brother. Really seeing him for what felt like the first time. You knew he cared, you knew he was kind, but it never fully registered until now. “You’re supposed to be looking for guns” Jake sighed, hand running down his face as the water lapped at his skin. “It’s moms—” Lo'ak tried to explain, holding the broken bow so delicately, “Put it away” Jake cut him off, stern, cold, and somewhat detached.
“It will only upset her more if she sees it, so get rid of it” Your head snapped up at your father's words, ears tipping back. That bitter feeling burned in the back of your throat again, that need to say something, to intervene. In the end, you couldn't.
Coward.
Your jaw clenched so hard you may have cracked a tooth, resisting the urge to speak.
Be good. Be respectful. Be responsible. Be good, be respectful, be responsible—
When the search for the guns finally came to an end, you followed after your brother, watching him and Tsireya carefully. “Lo’ak” You called, tone even and measured. The look in his eyes made your heart ache, the caution, the confusion— he is your brother. He should not be looking at you as if you're a stranger, but that thought was for another time.
“Keep the bow” You breathed out, gaze shifting to the broken weapon for just a moment. “Do not—” Your throat tightened, hands clenching as the next words came out cautiously, “Do not listen to father. You did good” It almost felt as if it cost you something to say it, as if it went against your very nature. And maybe it did. Lo'ak stared at you for a moment, his ears tipped back, tail curled inward.
“You really think so...?” He asked carefully, and everything in you had to keep yourself upright. “Yes” You nodded quickly, “Brother... You have a soft heart, but I believe that makes you strong” You whispered carefully, making sure he understood every word. “So keep the bow near, you never know when we might need it” You smiled, it was small, only offering a small bit of warmth, but it was a welcome.
<-->
You spent more time with your siblings, watching and silently protecting.
Kiri felt like a freak. That much you knew, so you'd sit with her, talk with her. “You are different, but you are beautiful, sister” You'd tell her, “You are no freak, your soul is what matters, and your soul is pure. I will not tolerate anyone belittling you, not even yourself”. You'd stay with her for hours, holding her in your arms to keep her grounded, to remind her that she is loved.
You don't remember the last time your parents hugged any of you. The last time they said they loved you since the war started, since Neteyam died.
That is your job now.
Tuk felt small, she is— by quite a lot, but she felt small in a way that left her feeling helpless. She is the youngest in a war she can't participate in, she is deemed a child, unable to protect herself. You knew the feeling. Especially with how she got captured time after time again. So in silence you trained her. You showed her how to hold a knife when father wasn't looking, you showed her how to stand, how to move. It was careful, but she needed to know how to protect herself.
Lo'ak believed himself to be a disappointment. He believed he'd never gain your father's acceptance, and something about that made your chest ache. You didn't know how to approach him because every time you'd try, he'd push you away. You hated how he looked at you, how guilt would eat him from inside out. You are Neteyam's twin, and maybe that fact made everyone else wary.
You and Neteyam looked alike, you shared mannerisms, speech patterns— but you are not him. You are not Neteyam.
Your brother is gone, and while you carry him with you, you are still your own person.
“Stop that” Lo'ak sat across from you, his ears quickly flicking up at your tone. “Stop what? I'm not doing anything” He huffed, his tail curling inwards as he looked back down. That ugly feeling festered in your chest again, jaw clenching as you tried to fight it down, “Stop looking at me like I'm the one you're mourning”.
“That’s not—” One look from you shut him up. He swallowed thickly, hands stilling on the rifle he was helping clean. Your hands gripped the gun tight, that anger shimmering beneath the surface, burning through your veins, waiting to be let out. It would be so easy, so easy to scream, to shout, to bare your fangs and pin the blame and hurt on someone else—
But you couldn't, “It's okay” Your voice was strained, forcing down that bitterness the best you could. “I just... I need everyone to stop looking at me as if I'm his ghost” It's the most you've ever admitted, and Lo'ak would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised. “You’re not him” Lo'ak said softly, his braids falling in front of his face as he met your gaze. He swallowed thickly, “You are perfect as you are” His words nearly broke you.
You knew deep down that is what Lo'ak wished to hear. That he needed the same reassurance, the same care and compassion, “As are you, brother” You whispered, lips curling into a small smile, one you had to force, “Do not dim your light for anyone”.
<-->
They were arguing again. Out in the open. Your fathers words pricked your ears, sharp and painful—
You hated how Jake spoke to Lo'ak. Hated how he pinned Neteyam's death on him as if it were his fault.
The anger festered, fingers digging into your knees as you stayed kneeled with the rest of the clan. You listened, you always listened. You need to be responsible, you need to set a perfect example, but every word your father lets loose on your younger brother makes your stomach churn.
Stay still.
Do not interfere.
Everything burned, your ears pressed flat and your tail curled around your leg. Your breaths came out in short pants, trying to keep yourself grounded, but that anger, that pain that's been eating you from the inside out is clawing its way to the surface.
You do not know when you rose to your feet. Kiri quickly tries to stop you, but everything else blurs. Your vision is tunneled, and one look at Lo'ak, seeing tears brew in your younger brother's eyes sent you tettering on the edge. It reminded you of Neteyam, it reminded you of the tears in your brother's eyes, the pain, his death. You could not protect your twin, you could do nothing to spare him, to save him.
You don't care what or who it is, you refuse to see your siblings cry again.
Not when you can stop it.
You had met a solid chest, pushing Jake back as you found yourself between him and Lo'ak. Your ears were pinned, lips curling in a snarl as you hissed at your father. The anger burned through you, and damn did it feel so good. Jake was shocked, stumbling back just a little from your shove. At first he felt anger and then he really looked at you.
You stood defensively between him and Lo'ak. Hackles raised like a wall challenging him to break, your eyes burned with a fierce protectiveness Jake only saw in you once in a blue moon. You were protecting your brother, from him. That realization hurt more than Jake was willing to admit, that his own child found him as a threat to your siblings.
When have you ever disobeyed him? When did you ever step out of line, or speak back— he could never recall another moment.
“Neteyam did not die for this!” You seethed, pure, hot anger that burned like a raging fire. “It is not Lo'aks fault—” You didn't give Jake a moment to speak, you didn't let him, “You need to check yourself, father” Your warning did not go unnoticed, and for a moment Jake wondered where you got the audacity to speak to him like this.
Lo'ak took your intervention as a moment to leave, slipping away as you made sure Jake stayed put, “You need to watch how you speak to me—” Jake gritted out, tail lashing behind him in aggravation, but disbelief still ran deep.
“No! You will hear me” You snapped back, fangs still barred in protective aggression. “You are grieving, we all are— but Neteyam did not die for you to blame Lo'ak” Your words were sharp, striking him dead center, because he knew you were right, he knew his grief and anger were misplaced.
“I will not lose another brother, and I will not lose him just because you can't remember how to act like our father instead of our leader—”
Now that one stung.
Anything that Jake had originally planned to say was quickly wiped clean because in his heart he knew you were right. He knew. He saw it in the way Neytiri mourned alone, how Kiri isolated herself from others, how Tuk clung to you more than she used to, and how Lo'ak was always gone, always doing something.
And how you struggled to keep everyone present, while also struggling with yourself.
He didn't speak as you stepped away, he didn't call you. Instead, he watched as you left, racing in the direction that Lo'ak had left only minutes ago.
Jake was left with a heavy heart, guilt fraying the edges of everything he felt. His own child deemed him a threat to his family— and part of him understood your fierce protectiveness. He had a lot to think about, and a lot to work on.
He needed to do better.
<-->
Your lungs burned from how long you've run. You searched everywhere with Kiri and Tsireya, needing to search just one more spot.
“Lo’ak!” You shouted, throat aching as you ran along the sand. You saw him— but the sight made your blood run cold. He had a gun in hand, the barrel pressed under his jaw. “Lo’ak—!” You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, Kiri and Tsireya following you as fast as they could.
Lo'aks grip faltered on the weapon, letting it drop as his gaze snapped to yours, “[Y/n]—”.
“Skxawng! What are you doing!?” You cut him off, dropping to your knees as tears filled your eyes, taking his face in your hands. “I can't— I can't lose another brother” You choked out, tears falling freely. Lo'aks eyes burned with tears, his own beginning to fall as he drew you in, hugging you tightly.
“I’m sorry—” He whispered, repeated it like a mantra as you hugged him back. His arms tightened around your waist, his face buried in your neck, wetting your skin with tears. “It’s okay— it's okay baby brother” You whispered, Kiri and Tsireya finally reaching you both. Kiri fell to her knees beside you two, joining the hug while Tsireya pushed the gun away, her hand resting on Lo'aks arm.
“You are wanted just as you are” You whispered into his braids, holding onto him like a lifeline, “We love you, I love you” Lo'ak cried harder into your shoulder, but you didn't mind, you couldn't. Not when you came so close to losing your brother.
“We’re family. I won't let anyone hurt you, not even yourself”.
Summary: Among the Sarentu, you are watched, tested, and slowly understood—though some seem to see more than others.
Cherrie's Notes: Thinking of making this into a more developed story potentially. Let me know if you want to see that!
AFOP Masterlist
The wind over the western frontier felt different.
It carried salt and something older—stories whispered through stone and tide. You noticed it the moment your ikran dipped lower, wings slicing through the mist as the coastline stretched wide beneath you. This land was not like the forests of home. It was harsher. Wilder. And waiting.
You leaned forward slightly, fingers resting against the base of your ikran’s neck, grounding yourself. Behind you lay everything familiar—your family, your clan, the towering trees that had watched you grow. Ahead of you… responsibility.
As the eldest daughter of Jake and Neytiri, you had always known this day would come. You just hadn’t expected it to feel so heavy.
They saw you before you landed. A group stood along the ridge—tall figures silhouetted against the pale sky. Their braids and markings were unfamiliar, their stance guarded. The Sarentu. You had heard the stories. Survivors. Fighters. Something in between legend and memory. Your ikran landed with a sharp cry, claws digging into the rocky ground. You dismounted in one fluid motion, straightening to your full height. And you felt their eyes.
Of course you did.
You had your mother’s face—sharp, striking, unmistakably Na’vi. But everything else told a different story. Your broader shoulders, your stance, even the subtle differences in your features… you carried your father’s origin in ways your siblings did not.
You had grown used to the looks. Still, it never stopped meaning something. One of them stepped forward. Not the tallest, not the most imposing—but there was something about him. His movements were careful, observant. His eyes lingered on you longer than the others’, not with suspicion alone… but curiosity.
“Teylan,” someone behind him muttered, as if grounding him.
So that was his name.
You speak your name, voice steady despite the unfamiliar tension in your chest. “Daughter of Jake Sully and Neytiri. I was sent to help.” A flicker passed through the group at your father’s name. Of course. The man who fought sky people. The outsider who became Toruk Makto. You wondered, briefly, which part of him they saw when they looked at you.
Teylan stepped closer. Up close, you noticed the small details—the way his ears angled slightly back when he studied you, the faint tension in his jaw like he was trying to read something beneath the surface.
“You do not look like them,” he said, not unkindly. Just… honestly. A corner of your mouth lifted.
“I get that a lot.” For a moment, silence hung between you. Then—unexpectedly—his lips twitched. Not quite a smile. But close.
The Sarentu did not welcome easily. You learned that quickly. Days passed in a careful rhythm. You trained, you listened, you proved yourself in the ways that mattered—not through words, but through action. Hunting in unfamiliar terrain. Learning their paths, their signals, their quiet way of watching everything before making a move.
And always… you felt his presence. Teylan was never far. At first, it was subtle. A glance during training. A shift in position when you entered a space. But over time, it became something else—something quieter, steadier. He began speaking to you more.
Not in long conversations. Not at first. Just small things.
“You favor your left side when you strike.”
“You move like the forest, even here.”
“You listen before you act.” Each observation landed deeper than you expected. Because he wasn’t just looking at you. He was seeing you.
One evening, the sky burned gold over the cliffs, the ocean stretching endlessly below. You stood at the edge, arms crossed, letting the wind pull at your braids. “You miss it,” Teylan said behind you.
You didn’t turn.“Of course I do.”
“But you came anyway.” That made you glance at him.He stood a few steps back, posture relaxed but eyes sharp as ever. There was something different in his expression now. Less guarded. More… open.
“I didn’t have a choice,” you said.
“That is not true.”
You tilted your head slightly. “No?”
“No,” he said, stepping closer. “You could have refused. Found another way. Followed your own path.”
You studied him for a long moment. “You don’t know my family.”
“Then tell me.” The simplicity of it caught you off guard. Most people didn’t ask. Most people assumed.
You exhaled softly, turning your gaze back to the horizon. “My father believes in fighting for what matters. My mother believes in protecting it. I…” You hesitated. “I think I’m still figuring out which one I am.”
“Both,” Teylan said. You looked at him again.He met your gaze fully this time. No hesitation. “You came here to protect,” he continued. “But you stayed. You fight. You learn. You adapt.” A faint softness touched his expression. “That is both.”
Something in your chest shifted. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t overwhelming.
Just… steady. Like the beginning of something you hadn’t expected to find here.
The wind carried salt and something older. But now it carries something else, too.
And for the first time since you arrived, the western frontier didn’t feel quite so distant from home.
The Sarentu did not change all at once. They shifted in pieces. The first to openly test you was Nor. It happened during training.
“You hold it wrong.”
You didn’t even turn. “I don’t,” you replied calmly, adjusting your grip anyway—just enough to provoke him.
A scoff.Then suddenly—movement. Nor lunged.
Fast.
You pivoted, blocking his strike with a sharp crack of wood against wood. He pushed harder than necessary, testing your strength, your balance—your patience.
“You fight like a forest child,” he muttered.
“And you fight like you’re trying to prove something,” you shot back.
That earned you a real reaction. He pressed forward again, more aggressive this time, but you didn’t yield. You met him strike for strike, your movements fluid, grounded. Not quite Sarentu… not quite Omaticaya.
Something in between. Something your own.
The clash ended with both your weapons locked between you.
Close. Too close for comfort. Nor’s eyes narrowed slightly. Then, unexpectedly, he huffed a quiet laugh.
“You don’t break easily.”
“Was that the goal?” you asked.
“Maybe.”
From the edge of the clearing, you caught sight of Teylan. Watching. Of course he was. His arms were crossed, posture still—but his eyes tracked every movement. When Nor stepped back, lowering his weapon, Teylan’s shoulders eased almost imperceptibly. You pretended not to notice.
Ri'nela was… different. She didn’t test you. She studied you.
“You carry tension here,” she said one evening, fingers hovering just above your shoulder.
You blinked slightly. “I always carry tension.”
“That is not something to be proud of.”
A small smile tugged at your lips. “I wasn’t aware I was boasting.”
Ri’nela hummed softly, guiding you to sit. Around you, soft glowing plants cast shifting light across her careful movements as she worked. “You are the eldest,” she said after a moment. “You were shaped to endure more.”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. She understood anyway.
After a pause, she added, quieter— “Teylan watches you when you are not aware.”
Your head turned sharply. “He watches everyone.”
“No,” she said simply. “Not like that.”
Heat crept faintly up your neck. You looked away. Ri’nela said nothing more—but the knowing look in her eyes lingered long after.
If Ri’nela observed, Tamtey talked.
Constantly.
“You fly differently,” he said one afternoon, walking far too close beside you as you checked your gear.
You raised a brow. “That’s vague.”
“It’s not vague. It’s specific.”
“It is literally the opposite of specific.”
He grinned. “You dive steeper. Faster. Like you trust the fall.”
You paused. That… wasn’t wrong. “Is that a problem?” you asked.
“No,” Tamtey said easily. “It’s just interesting.” He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice—poorly. “Teylan noticed it too.”
You froze for half a second. Then kept walking. I’m sure he notices many things.”
“Oh, he does,” Tamtey said, far too pleased with himself. “But not about everyone.”
You shot him a look.
He only grinned wider.
From across the clearing, Teylan—who had absolutely heard that—turned abruptly and busied himself with something that did not need doing. Subtle. Very subtle.
Solek was the hardest to read. He didn’t smile. Didn’t offer easy approval. But he watched. Always.
“You hesitate,” he told you one morning, after observing a hunt.
You frowned slightly. “I succeeded.”
“That is not the same.” His gaze was sharp, unwavering. “You calculate too much. You carry responsibility before action.”
You stiffened. “That is how I was taught.”
“And yet,” Solek said, stepping closer, “this land does not wait for certainty.” His eyes flicked briefly—past you. To Teylan. Then back again. “You are not here because you are the eldest,” he continued. “You are here because you are capable. There is a difference.”
The words settled heavily. But not unpleasantly. Like truth often did.
After he dismissed you, you exhaled slowly, rolling your shoulders.
“You did not hesitate,” came a quiet voice behind you.
Of course. You didn’t turn this time.
“I did.”
“No,” Teylan said, stepping beside you. “You considered. Then acted.”
A small glance toward him. “That’s hesitation.”
“It is control.”
Your lips pressed together, faintly amused. “You’re very determined to disagree with Solek.”
“I am very determined to be correct.”
That earned a soft laugh from you. And for a moment—He just looked at you. Not studying. Not analyzing.
Just… looking.
Then, as if realizing it, he glanced away quickly, ears flicking slightly back.
You noticed that, too.
Later that night, as the camp settled into quiet, you found yourself sitting among them—not apart, not observed, but included. Nor arguing with Tamtey. Ri’nela softly corrects both. Solek silent, but present.
And Teylan—Just close enough. Not speaking much. But every so often, when something made you laugh, or when your voice carried across the circle— His gaze would lift. And linger. Just a little longer than it should.
The western frontier was still unfamiliar. Still wild. Still unpredictable. But the people here— They were beginning to feel less like strangers. And more like something else. Something steadier. Something that, slowly—Was starting to feel like it might matter.
