until now, I was sure that it was common sense that you shouldn't glamorize rape. but the internet never ceases to disgust me.
One morning, a wukula x fem!omaticaya reader fic, written by 'm9yaa' came onto my fyp. I love the avatar franchise, so I naturally clicked on it to see what it was about, which was a mistake.
I didn’t thoroughly read through the tag list, which led me to preview a graphic rape scene 500 to 1k words into the story. By preview, I meant I only read a little before becoming so disgusted I genuinely just turned my phone off.
Here are some lines that appeared in that story:
"your body has already surrendered to him, even if your mind struggles to follow."
“i don't want this" — Y/N, who is referencing a sexual relationship with Wukula
"your mouth says no, but your body.. your body is shaking yawne." — Wukula, who is forcing himself onto her
"your body knows what it wants, even if you won't admit it." — Wukula, who is forcing himself onto her
This is rape.
These scenes are a textbook example of a rapist who wants to establish dominance and ownership over someone, so they take someone who has a clear disinterest in sexual intercourse and uses their normal physiological reactions to sexual stimulation to guilt them into ‘wanting sex’. Even though that person still doesn’t want to have sex, they are shamed and manipulated into believing that they secretly do because their body is reacting in a way that the rapist perceived as “consent”.
If this has ever happened to you, you should not be ashamed. Your body responded in the way it’s supposed to when it receives sexual stimulation, and you shouldn’t feel ashamed that it happened with someone you weren’t comfortable with. Rape doesn’t become consensual sex when the attacker makes you feel like you wanted it. You know you didn’t, and it’s not your fault that it happened. Victims should never be put at fault for the actions of their rapists. And they should never feel like it’s their responsibility to deal with their trauma on their own, or that their trauma is a result of their “weakness”. No victim of assault is weak. You are strong, and your attacker does not hold any power over you. If anyone reading needs help, my DMs are open, and I would be glad to post any hotline numbers or links to support systems.
Now, acknowledging this, I need to state that I do not have a problem with people who write for the Mangkwan tribe. James Cameron, the creator of the Avatar franchise, put great care into creating the Mangkwans. He worked closely with his actors and crew into learning about various indigenous and African cultures where practices like scarification are deeply honored. I admire the work put into the tribe, of which I find beautiful. They are incredibly different from typical Na’vi tribes like the Omatikaya or the Metakayina, and I am incredibly impressed by their culture. This does not mean I glorify torture, murder, cults, pillaging or scarification.
Personally, I believe cultural traditions surrounding self harm or abuse are too commonly practiced, and they must be stopped. James Cameron shows the importance of these rituals to the people who practice it by educating others on why they do it, but takes care on not glorifying it by showcasing the harm it does. He has amazing directive abilities, which is why I don’t mind the love people have for the Mangkwan tribe. The tribe had beautiful visuals, a good storyline, and gives attention to various indigenous cultures.
I understand why people like the Mangkwan tribe, and I understand why people wouldn’t. Trust me, I’m completely fine with people writing Mangkwan fanfics. However, I am not fine with people glamorizing rape. You cannot write something like this and think it's acceptable. A 15 thousand word story where someone is being brutally raped is not enjoyable, and it should not be given praise.
I got blocked after commenting "i'm confused... isn't this straight up rape? why are we glamorizing this?", which confused me.
Why is it so acceptable to glamorize rape? Why do authors glamorize rape? Why do so many people write about it as if it's an enjoyable experiences? How do people read it so happily, or get wet off of it?
It is just a random fanfic on the internet, but it presents a much deeper problem within common society. The decision to write, review, and post it was weird, and i needed to point it out myself since the comments on her page seemed to be eating it up.
By putting that kind of work onto the internet, you’re setting the standard that doing the act of or enjoying rape is okay, which it isn’t. When the author blocked me, they essentially admitted that they were glamorizing rape, and clearly didn’t understand why it is wrong to do so.
Unfortunately, they’re not the only author who does this. So i’m not trying to cyberbully or place all the blame on m9yaa, even if my post results in that. I’m just saying the fic was horrifying and works like that need to be taken down.
Rape is NOT a “nuanced” topic. It is a terrible thing and I have the highest sympathy and empathy for victims of assault. Don’t glamorize it on the internet, don’t glamorize it in real life, and don’t try to justify it. Rape culture is becoming too normalized and I’m SICK of it.
Any comment trying to convince me that rape is okay or that it has a place on the internet will be put on my wall of shame and effectively blocked.
wall of shame
notes for the images below:
the author blocked me way before this post was made, and since then I haven't directly contacted them, so according to the definition of bullying, I wouldn't be bullying "m9yaa".
none of my works are posted on my wattpad or tumblr yet. so have fun copying my bio, i worked super duper hard on it!
“canigotosleep—plz”, you need to learn some manners. you're 21 and you're using AI while on a platform that uplifts the hard work of authors and artists who put their soul into doing what they love. that's embarrassing, and you know it is.
doumacumslutttt, i hope someone beats your head in.
I never realized someone could be so apathetic until i had the absolute misfortune of having to talk to you.
You first claimed that "rape is not okay at all", but then you immediately contradicted yourself by claiming that you "enjoy it because (you) can". Why would you pretend to have some humanity when arguing with someone that can immediately realize when someone doesn't actually care about victims of assault or discussing the topic properly?
You don't care about rape in any form. When I asked you how you felt about a tragic case where a 12 year old girl was brutally raped by 3 teenage boys, and if you saw how horrifying it was, you simply responded with "okay what do you want ME to do about it."
Are you serious?
The purpose of that was to show you that rape isn't actually a fantasy, it's a nightmare for victims. By enjoying something that frequently oppresses women, you implicate that the victims experiences don't matter because "when it's in writing it's actually enjoyable".
Anybody that enjoys "dub-con" or "non-con" is a rapist in the making, and I stand ten toes down on that. Call "dub-con" and "non-con" what they actually are. Anything other than a sober, willing yes is a no. Stop turning the "rape" into cute little shortcut for despicable pieces of writing.
I don’t say this very often, but you should be shunned from society. You will never see the wrong of your ways, and you will continue to give rape-authors a platform by sharing their works.
Should I ever meet them in real life, I would high-five your best-friend for fucking your boyfriend, and then high-five your boyfriend for leaving you and your sick habits. They probably got sick of how you sit around all day reading graphic internet porn and justify sexual assault.
summary: Wukula is as sadistic as any mangkwan. But he has no limits when it comes to revenge. With So'lek's precious Sarentu in his grasp, he has no restraint to what he will do to achieve what he is owed, and So'lek will stop at nothing to make sure you are safe.
contents: fem!sarentu reader x so'lek, from the ashes spoilers, wukula, forced tsaheylu, knifes, blood, violence, weird power dynamics from wukula coz duh, angst, fluff, trauma, nightmares,
note: i kinda went crazy lol, i hope you guys like it. i really liked writing this dynamic coz like lowkey...the ash people coulda been crazier. but this is smthn a lil different for me so hopefully you all enjoy yay!
There wasn’t a moment when his thoughts were not centered on you.
Every time he closed his eyes he was back in TAP.
So’lek’s head rings, vision doubling as debris crashes around him. Smoke claws through his lungs, every shallow breath burning. He feels himself slipping, knees stinging as the Mangkwan push him further into the ground.
It all happens so fast. He lunges forward, lungs burning with every step. His hand reaching for yours.
And for a split second your hand is in his.
Then it isn’t.
The sensation of his fingers slipping off yours, catching onto a broken bead of your songcord. Nails scraping uselessly over you.
“No-!”
He felt himself get ripped away from you, his body being thrown as if it was a toy. Foreign hands wrap around his, squeezing until his bones ache.
The window gives way.
Glass shatters around him, shards scratching over his skin as gravity tears him away from you. Above him, your scream follows, hollow and weak as if it has been ripped out of you.
He screams your name as he plummets.
The impact slams the air out of his lungs, the facility creaking as his body smashed into the floor, igniting pain through his body. His body tries to move but it’s hopeless, he’s unable to breathe, unable to think.
Your screams haunt his drifting mind until the darkness swallows him.
When awareness creeps back into his aching body, it’s painstakingly slow. His shaking on his hands and knees, coughing violently as smoke and dust clogged his lungs. TAP groans around him, metal screaming, alarms blaring, sparks flickering around him.
“Please.” He gasps into his comms, clawing towards the small beam of light filtering through the rubble. “Please- Answer me!”
Palms scrape against the metal floors, blood sticking to the floor. “Hello?” he calls your name nothing yet there’s but static responding. “Please- Can you hear me?”
His fists slam into the ground, still clambering to the light as he pleaded into the comms. But there was nothing.
Only silence.
Silence never lasts long.
So’lek stands inside another control room. Surrounded by useless human machinery, bleak gray desks bolted to the floor, a multitude of panels cluttered with unfamiliar switches and glowing buttons. Fans chur overhead, blades spinning too fast, rattling and cutting through the thick air. Warning alarms scream through the small screens adorning the walls, red symbols flashing.
Nothing about it matters. He followed another useless lead, ending up empty handed, not even a hint about where the RDA had abducted you.
So’lek’s attention is dragged to the largest screen on the far wall. Dark, glossy and reflective enough he can see himself in it. His bloody, battered body shaking, ears pinned tight to his head, chest heaving.
Then it glitches.
Black and white lines flash onto the screen. Static cutting through the speakers. He barely had enough time to register it all before a loud scream echoes through the room.
It’s deafening and guttural. As if it had been ripped raw from a throat that has already screamed too much.
So’lek flinches, his tail snapped rigidly behind him. His breath stutters in his chest.
The image stabilizes.
You are on your knees. Hands bound behind you so tightly your shoulders are wrenched back painfully, muscles trembling with strain. Your head hangs forward, your chin close to your chest, eyes wet and unfocused.
Your body swaying, slipping in and out of consciousness. Bright purple marks stain your skin. Bruises in the shape of fingers marked onto your body. Thin straight lines brand your arms and legs. Glistening under the harsh white light. Cuts and scratches measured and chosen.
So’lek felt his heart stop beating, his stomach drop.
A shadow moves behind you.
Wukula’s broad form fills the screen. His movement is slow and controlled, almost relaxed. Blood darkens his teeth as he smiles, eyes slight with cruelty and vengeance.
“Wave, Sarentu.” He taunts, prodding at your weak body. “He is watching.”
“She tried so hard.” He says gently, eyes locking onto the camera, the fondness in his tone making So’lek’s stomach curdle. “Did you know that?”
“She tries not to make noise.” He continues. “Thinks if she stays quiet, this will end faster.”
Wukula’s hand comes down to grip onto your jaw. You whimper weakly as he forces your face towards the camera. “But I like it when she screams.”
So’lek’s blood runs cold, letting out a pained hiss.
His eyes meet yours. He can see the terror in your eyes, blood and ash smeared over your face, lashes clumped together from your tears.
“Look at her” Wukula croons. “You picked a pretty little thing.”
His head dips down into the curve of your neck, inhaling slowly. A satisfied growl escaping his mouth. “She looks even prettier when she cries.”
A loud sob tears from within you as Wukula twists your head back, his grip threateningly tight on your kuru.
“I told her you would watch,” he murmurs his voice a low growl. “That you would hear every pathetic sound she made.”
You struggle against his grip. The movement is futile.
Wukula retaliates instantly, yanking back your kuru hard enough to force another scream from your throat.
“She would make a good offering to Varang.” He jeers, eyes flicking to the camera. An evil smile stretches across his scarred face. “But this.”
A possessive hand settles over your waist, one finger tracing the fibers of your loincloth.
“This is much more enjoyable.”
A gut-wrenching scream echoes through the control room.
The scream goes black.
The silence is worse.
So’lek is left staring at his own reflection. Shaking violently, eyes blown wide, your broken image burned into his mind. A blood thirsty haze falls over him, the gold in his eyes dims, swallowed by something darker, hungrier.
He will not fail you again.
So’lek doesn’t think. He cannot think.
The moment the static in the speaker comes to a complete silence his body surges forward as if it had a mind of its own. Every muscle screams, every footstep pounding against the metal floor. He doesn’t dare to slow down.
He jumps over the platforms of the base. Sharp metal edges scrape against his arms. But the pain is irrelevant. Nothing matters but you.
He roars into the metal surroundings, his voice raw and shaking. Tail whipping behind him as he pivots through the winding hallway.
So’lek had lost any care for stealth. Any human that dared to get in his way now would meet their fate quickly.
He bursts through a maintenance vent, the setting sun casting a dim haze over the horizon. His voice calls out for Iley, soaring into the air quickly. “Quick Iley!” He yells out to him, a shaky hand steading itself on his neck.
The pull within his chest is unrelenting, every gust of wind a hammering reminder of how far he was from you.
Wukula has you. Wukula dared to touch you.
The realization dawned on him. If he was just a heartbeat too slow. He could lose you.
The wind was harsh, Iley pushing through the wind with loud screeches. The air brushes against his skin, the cool air doing nothing to simmer the burning fury within him.
Finally, the faint outline of Hometree looms in the horizon.
Scorched, blackened and stubbornly alive.
A single thought consumed him.
You.
With a guttural roar, So’lek leaps off Iley landing on a smoldering branch of Hometree. He rushes inside vaulting and sprinting through the onslaught of soldiers that stood in his way.
Every instinct screamed for you. He didn’t waste time fighting his way to you. He simply ran.
Every bit of his strength would be reserved for the death of Wukula.
When So’lek reached the top of home tree it was nothing like he had recognized it. Steel had replaced bark. Scorched embers scattered across the floor. Human instruments jut from the burning trunk like parasites. Cables and wire burrows into the sacred wood. What was once vibrant, breathing with life had been stripped bare and weaponized.
A landing pad.
The wind howled through the dying branches, shrill and mournful. As if the tree itself was grieving.
Suspended against a vertical steel pole at the back of the landing pad.
Your wrists are bound high above your head, shoulders stretched taut, forcing you upright. Your toes barely brush the cool metal beneath you. Your head hangs forward lolling weakly to one side, hair undone, veiling half of your face.
Your breathing is shallow. Uneven.
But present.
A tiny part of him is relieved. That at least he hasn’t lost you yet.
You’re alive.
Then the wind shifts. Clouds swallow what little sunlight remains, plunging the clearing into looming darkness.
So’lek sees the shadow first.
Then Wukula steps forward, merging from the darkness. His smile catching the last thread of light, sharp and sickly pleased. His blade is already tight against your throat.
“Ah.” He says conversationally. “You made it.”
So’lek moves before his thoughts can catch up. His arrow aimed between Wukula’s eyes.
“Take your hands off-!” His voice booms, echoing against the steel structures.
Wukula lets out a laugh. It’s deep. Genuine. Amused.
“Are your arrows faster than my blade…Dog tag warrior?” His words sharp, almost mocking.
The knife presses just enough to break skin. A thin line of red wells at your throat.
Your breath catches. Your body tenses, weak and trembling.
So’lek is frozen.
He knows if even a finger tightened too much on the string-. He didn’t want to imagine what would happen.
“You hesitate.” Wukula observes with satisfaction. “Good. That means you understand.”
Wukula’s hand slides up your form, fingers lingering too long. As if he relished in touching what wasn’t his. Then his hand forcefully grips the base of your kuru tilting your head further up, a yelp of pain ripping out of your throat.
Your head tilts back under his control, exposing your throat to the darkening sky. Your eyes stare upwards, unfocused searching for something beyond the cloudy sky.
You don’t fight. You can’t.
All you could do was stare at the dark sky above you and silently pray to the Great Mother. Desperately plead that your life is not taken from hands covered in ash.
Yet there was a small part of you that wondered if returning to the Her would finally mean peace.
“Dog tag warrior.” Wukula spoke with venom, spitting the words onto the ground. “I didn’t realize you were so gullible.”
So’lek stuttered for a moment. His brows furrowing, the tension on his bow releasing.
Panic set in as he looked beside him.
A mechanical whine. A metallic snap.
Four darts explode outward from the shadows, fired from the arm of a concealed AMP suit.
They strike in each of So’lek’s limbs with brutal precision.
Cords wrap around So’lek’s limbs, coiling tight before he can pivot away.
Then the voltage hits, his body locking.
A strangled scream tears from his throat as the electricity surges through his body. Muscles seize violently, his bow dropping out of his grip. Body crashing to the floor as his knees buckle.
So’lek groans as he tries to move, every twitch sends volts of ache through him. Even his hands are not strong enough to stop him from falling, his face smashing against the metal. He felt his face ache, blood beginning to drip from his nose.
You scream his name.
But Wukula silences you instantly, his blade biting deeper into your skin.
“Be- Be still!” So’lek cries out to you, his face morphing in agony as he looks up to you.
“Careful.” Wukula murmurs near your ear, biting the tip of your earlobe. “You’ll distract him.”
So’lek’s teeth grit, his jaw trembles. He tries to move, rip the cables free but more volts shock through him, forcing him flat against the floor. Helpless and pinned.
Forced to watch.
Wukula cuts the ropes that kept you bound to the pole, pushing you forward on your knees. Instinctively, your hands flew out to try and catch yourself, but Wukula already had them in his grasp. Your shoulders pulling tight as you fell, the familiar ropes wrapping around your wrists once again.
Wukula stood in front of you, watching you bound and kneeling in front of him with a sick grin. His loincloth so close it brushes across your face. “She looks pretty when she kneels doesn’t she So’lek?” He grips your kuru yanking you closer to him.
So’lek let out a hiss, fighting through the electricity, fingers digging uselessly against the metal. “Don’t touch her!”
Wukula scoffs. “I already am.” He sneers, pulling you closer to his pelvis, forcing you to submit to his will. His hands trace the outlines of your jaw, forcing your gaze away from So’lek.
“Our fight is not with her!” So’lek yells, desperately trying break free. Yet every movement forced him into submission.
“You have scarred me.” Wukula points his knife towards So’lek, then flicks it back to you. “So, I will scar her.”
Wukula crouches beside you, his grip on your kuru still tight enough it restricts movement. His voice lowers into something intimate and cruel. “Stay very still,” he whispers. “He needs to see this clearly.”
He stands up again, his full form dwarfing you as knelt below him. He tugs on the end of your kuru, making you stumble over your knees.
Wukula doesn’t rush. Every move he makes is calculated and thought out. As if he had planned this moment many moons ago.
He keeps his grip tangled in your kuru, twisting once around his wrist like a leash.
You let out the softest whimper, lips trembling.
So’lek sees it, his heart fracturing.
“Don’t you see?” He calls lazily, as if he is annoyed that his devilish plan is being interrupted. “She reacts to me. She responds to me. She belongs to me. Even her body understands that her life is in my hands.”
“Release her!” So’lek roars, dragging his forearm across the steel beneath him. His skin tearing against the sharp cables.
The electricity surges again, slamming him flat against the floor. His muscles convulse violently; breath knocked from his lungs.
“You are exhausting.” Wukula sighs, turning his attention away from So’lek. “This is who you begged to come save you?” He tilts his head, mock sympathy softening his tone. “Or did you pray to the Great Mother?”
You shake your head, fighting tears from spilling. Wukula just laughs. “She will not come.”
He raises his voice so So’lek could hear every word.
“She did not come when we burnt this tree.”
“She did not come when we bombed your rookery.”
“And she will not come for you.”
So’lek thrashes against the metal. Another surge of electricity forcing its way into his veins. His scream rips through the landing pad, animalistic and raw.
You watch how Wukula’s mouth twitches into a smile.
Then he slides his kuru forward.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Then he pauses. “Have you mated before your weak goddess yet?” He sneers eyes flicking between the struggling couple.
You shake your head, a sinking feeling of doom bubbling in your stomach.
“No? Well…this shall be fun.”
Then glowing tendrils swallow yours.
“No!” So’lek chokes out, a terror unlike anything he had felt before flooding his system.
Wukula groans loudly, a hearty laugh ripping from his chest.
Your breath stutters, pupils dilate as the sensation drowns you. It wasn’t warmth or love. But a cold dark intrusion that felt foreign within you. Your muscles seize, you shake as you try to break free. But Wukula looms over you, his eyes glowing in satisfaction.
He could feel every bit of fight within you leaving, desperately clawing onto your mind as he forcefully weaved through it.
He inhales sharply, tilting his head down towards. “Such a pretty paskalin.”
“Stop!” So’lek screams, his voice cracking, something primitive tearing from his chest.
Wukula lets out a loud hiss, his fangs reflecting against the floodlights. As Wukula grew angrier, you felt his pain through the bond.
You collapsed in agony; your nerves were no longer yours. Nor was your mind or your body. It was all in his control. You let out a scream loud enough that your throat almost gave out, tears streaming down your face.
Wukula crouched down now, seeing your weak body slowly begin to fade in and out of consciousness. A sick grin growing across his face. “I thought she could handle a little more than that.” He laughed, picking you up and ripping your kuru from his.
So’lek deep inside prayed you would react, even if it was a scream of agony. It meant you were alive. But your body never reacts. All he heard was the thump of contact you made with the metal floor.
Your chest sinks, but it doesn’t rise.
And something primal wakes within him.
The world around him goes silent.
The electricity still courses through him but he no longer feels it. The pain fractures away revealing something larger.
His fingers wrap around the first dark embedded in his thigh. With a groan he rips it out. Flesh tears around the wound, blood spraying across the steel, yet he doesn’t flinch.
The AMP suit hesitates, So’lek catches it within a second.
He surges forward on instinct alone. He grabs the live wire still sparking against his ribs and tears it out. Then he yanks it towards him, the solider tugged to the ground, the AMP suit backfiring, sparks explode from the energy packs on its back. Metal shrieking at the suit bursts into a mountain of flames.
Wukula turns too late.
So’lek was already moving. Not with grace or precision.
With wrath.
So’lek tackles Wukula before he is fully alert. Both slamming across the metal pad. Wukula’s knife slides away into the shadows
Wukula snarls, fangs bared. “You will give me what I am owed!”
So’lek answers with his fists.
Bones crack, Wukula’s head snapping sideways.
Wukula’s hands fly to So’lek’s throat, forcing him to the ground as he recovers. Scampering away to grab his blade. The time gives So’lek to find his footing, snarling as he sees Wukula return with his weapon.
Wukula swipes his blade near So’leks face, but he ducks with haste, swifty turning to jut the Mangkwan powerfully in the back.
Wukula coughs before he pivots, his blade cutting through the Dog tag warriors back. He cries out, knees crashing to the floor, pain spreading through his body. Sticky red liquid beginning to drip down his blue skin.
Wukula sees the moment to strike, lifting his blade high in the air. Its rigid edges gleam against the burning flames around him. Then his blade lowers, aiming towards So’lek’s shoulder, but his arm is caught before any wound is made.
So’lek lets out a loud snarl, twisting his entire form as he bends the raiders arm. Forcing him to let go of his sacred blade.
So’lek’s balls his fist, meeting Wukula’s face with the utmost force. Sending him crashing to the floor below him, his knife clattering beside him. But So’lek doesn’t take a moment of rest. He can’t rest.
Not while he knows you lay limp and unconscious just behind him. Because he wasn’t fast enough to retrieve you from Wukula’s sick games.
So’lek’s hand wraps around the Warband’s neck, tight enough that he felt a heartbeat pump beneath his fingers. Another grabs the rigid blade that laid next to him.
His hands rise, chest heaving. So’lek looks into the eyes of the man that had brutally tortured you.
But he doesn’t see Wukula.
He sees you.
He sees your fear, your terror, your silent pleas and weak cries.
Then the blade pierced his flesh, plunging into Wukula’s chest. Stealing away his last breath.
So’lek watches as his pupils widen, his body falling limp below him. Life drain out of his chest, seeping onto So’lek’s hands.
A roar rips out of him. It echoes across the landing pad, bouncing off the metal contraptions. The roar tears out of him until there is nothing left but a lingering burn in his throat
Then there is silence.
No more shouting. No more metal shrieking. No more Wukula.
His hands begin to shake, he glances down and all he can see are his fingers buried in Wukula’s chest. Blood coats his hands, warm and slick, dripping down his wrists and along his forearms.
He releases the blade, and Wukula’s body slumps fully beneath him.
He should feel relief. He should feel victory.
But he can’t.
Not when you are still unmoving. Stuck in the position Wukula had thrown you into, wrists still bound together.
His head snaps toward you and for a moment he is worried he cannot stand. Knees buckling below him. The adrenaline that had carried his movements had disappeared. Leaving behind something hollow and sick.
He moves anyway, feet stumbling with every step.
Each movement he makes feels wrong, feels…heavy. As if the air around him had thickened.
As he moves closer to you, his heart begins to pound.
Your chest is too still, your skin is too pale, your body is too weak.
He drops to his knees beside you, the impact so hard bruises appear in an instant.
A wail racks out of his chest, unable to be restrained. Chest heaving with sorrowful cries as he gathers your limp body into his arms.
Your head lolls back against his forearm, hair falling away from your face.
He is quick to rip the ropes from your wrists, fingers tracing the bright purple marks that have been indented into your skin.
He brings you closer to his chest, hands shaking as he cradles you.
Your lips are parted, but there was no breath.
“No, no, no-” His voice fractures completely, his grip on you becoming tighter. He presses his ear to your chest.
Silence.
His body begins to tremble violently.
“I was here,” he coughs out, choking on his own tears. “I came. I came for you.” He presses his forehead to yours, his tears dropping onto your cheek. “I would never leave you. I was always going to come for you.”
He shuts his eyes tight, another sob taking control of his body. Lips tremble as his cries wobble. “You cannot leave me,” he whimpers.
It wasn’t a command or an order.
But a plea.
His fingers fumble brushing against your kuru, he brushed it gently, another sob crashing over him as his mind flashed back to what had been done to you. “You were so strong my love.”
His shoulders shake, eyes flicking back up to your shut ones.
Then he breaks.
He folds over you, curling his body around yours, trying to shield you from something that had already happened. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers into your hair, his blood soaked hands staining your cheeks. “I should have been faster- I shouldn’t have hesitated. I’m so sorry-.”
His voice collapses into another wail, his body rocking side to side. One hand rested against your head cradling you into his body, the other wrapped around your waist.
Your hands lay limp against the floor, unmoving and lifeless.
Hometree was silent, the only sound was So’lek’s cries. Defeated and broken.
Then a small sound breaks it.
So small So’lek is sure he imagined it. That his mind was trying convince himself that this was all fake.
A hitch of breath, a gasp of air.
Your chest jerks sharply beneath his grip. So’lek freezes, he couldn’t look down. What if he had imagined it all. What if he looks down and still sees you there lifeless in his grip.
But what if when he looks down, you are really there.
He pulls back just enough to look at you. He feels your fingers twitch weakly against his chest.
Another breath, ragged and sharp drags into your lungs.
“Please…” he whispers again.
Your lashes flutter. Your brows furrow faintly. “So’lek...?” You whisper faintly, your voice barely there.
He nods, a broken sound escaping his throat, one that is half laugh half sob.
He cups your face instantly. His hands careful gripping onto your cheeks. “I am here,” he breathes, forehead pressing against yours. “I am here.”
Relief hits him like another surge of electricity, but this time it does not ache. It overwhelms. He gathers you tighter in his embrace, his body still shaking. “I thought I lost you…”
“You came.” You cried a weak hand shakily gripping onto his.
“Of course I did.” He says quickly. “I will always come for you.”
The night is cool inside So’lek’s home. Bioluminescent vines light up the rocky walls, the soft rush of the waterfall trickles into a soothing harmony.
You lie curled against his chest, the hammock enclosing around the both of you.
He had barely slept since that night. Every time your breathing shifts his body would jolt awake, every time you move, his arm would tighten around you. Every moment his eyes fluttered open he looked down making sure you were still safe in his arms again.
Tonight was like any other night. So’lek barely asleep, his body on edge unable to let him succumb to rest.
Your fingers twitched against his chest. Then your breathing changed, becoming shallow and quick. Too quick.
“No-” you whisper, barely audible. Your lips beginning to tremble, eyes still screwed shut.
But So’lek’s snap wide open.
Stay still a voice echoes in your mind. Your body jerks violently, hands shoving against So’lek’s chest. “Get away!” you gasp, eyes still shut.
So’lek’s grip on you immediately retracts. Sitting up, letting the weight of his body no longer rest against you. “I am not touching you.” He whispers firmly, raising his hands in the air. “You are safe, you are home.” He whispers, his voice low and steady.
Your eyes fly open. And for a split second you don’t recognize him. You suddenly scramble backwards out of the hammock, feet finding the rocky floor below you.
Your breathing is erratic, hands clutching around your kuru, protecting it from a threat that is no longer there.
So’lek’s heart sinks when he sees you, his chest tightening. “Mawey…you are safe.”
“He is inside-” you sob out, choking on your words. “I- I can feel him.”
“He is dead. He is not here.” He says voice firm but soft. “He will never hurt you again.”
Your head shakes violently, hands wrapping around your body. “But I felt- I felt him.”
So’lek stays sitting on the hammock, his eyes gentle and calm.
“Look at me.”
You hesitate, taking in a short breath in. Then your eyes lift.
His gaze is steady and present. “Tell me what you see.”
You blink, a tear dropping onto your cheek. “You.”
He smiles. “Only me?”
Your breath trembles as you nod. “Only you.”
“Breathe slowly yawne.” He takes in a large breath, holding it for a moment before releasing the air.
You watch his chest rise and fall, beginning to mimic him.
So’lek shuffles his legs on the floor, bringing the hammock closer to you. He is slow, giving you space if you need to recoil.
When you don’t move away, he opens a hand to you. “Come my love.” It wasn’t an order, but an invitation.
You slowly move towards him, pulling your hand away from the grip you had on your body to rest in his palm. His touch was soft and warm.
Your shoulders drop, tension seeping out of your system. So’lek drags you closer now, enough that you can rest in his lap. Legs resting on one side of him, your head resting against his shoulder.
For a while nothing was said between you. Both sitting in gentle silence as his fingers caressed the small of your back, slowly bringing you back into the present.
“I hate that he touched me first,” you whisper. Your confession is raw, taking a weight off your chest.
So’lek’s jaw tightens, fighting the fire of rage that still burned within him. But his voice remained soft. “He did not take what is ours.”
“I do not want…” you swallow a whimper. “I do not want him to be my only experience. I want...what it was supposed to be.” Your eyes flick to your kuru, and then to his.
His hand stills. “I will give you what ever you ask for.” He says gently. “But I do not want you to think that you owe me anything.”
“I know.” You say softly. “But I want you.”
Silence fills the space as So’lek’s hands move to grab his kuru. He doesn’t rush it towards you, he lets you take control.
You reach for his kuru with shaking hands, slowly connecting it to yours.
For a moment, fear builds inside of you. Worried that you may once again feel the agony that was forced upon you. But when the tendrils met, your breath caught in your throat.
Because this time there was no intrusion, no pain or force. It was a warm fuzzy feeling that consumed you. Slow and gentle.
You feel So’lek, his thoughts, his feelings and he still does not flood your sensations. You feel him waiting for you, letting you set the pace.
Through the bond you hear him. Softer than ever before, calm and peace flow through your body.
There are moments where So’lek feels your growing fear, can sense your growing anxieties. But he answers it with calm…and your doubt flickers.
“I am here.” He whispers. Your bond did not make you his nor did it make him yours.
You became one.
Your forehead presses against his, tears sliding down your cheeks, but your lips curve into a faint smile. “This feels different.”
“It is different.” He answers.
But of course, it’s different. Because this was chosen.
So’lek pulls you in closer, fingers intertwining with yours. He watches your eyes flick up to him. You study him in the dim light.
“You almost lost me.” You whisper. You feel his sorrow, his fear through the bond.
His jaw tightens, a hand cupping your cheek. “I would have torn the world apart to find you again.”
notes: okay yayyyy, thankyou for reading it all i really hope you all liked it. please tell me what you thought, how you felt I wanna hear and read it ALLL ily guys sm i hope this was good and not totally cringey
okay byeee (reblogs and comments are always appreciated and i will give u a big fat kiss.)
cw: smut; violence; forced tsaheylu; loss of virginity; noncon
The raid ends in blood and smoke. Successful at last.
Your clan’s central fire still burns in the hunting camp away from your Hometree, but instead of celebration and laughter, the screams have faded to whimpers.
You kneel on the burnt moss, wrists bound behind your back with rough cord, hair torn loose from its braids. Warriors from the Mangkwan circle you like vultures—laughing, spitting, already arguing who gets first claim.
Then Wukula steps through the crowd.
Tall and broad even for Na’vi, limbs painted the color of obsidian, scars crisscrossing his chest like lightning, blood splatters of your kin clinging to his skin like accessoires. He carries no weapon now; he doesn’t need one. The others fall silent the moment his shadow falls over you.
He studies you slowly. Eyes trace the elegant line of your throat, the swell of your breasts beneath torn woven fabric, the curve of your hips, the defiant lift of your chin. You glare back—unbroken, even with ash streaking your face.
He crouches, his tail lashes. One massive hand grips your jaw, tilts your face up. His thumb drags across your lower lip, parting it slightly.
“Pretty thing,” he murmurs, voice rough like gravel underfoot. “Too pretty for the rotten wood you come from.”
You spit at his feet. He barks a laugh, eyes glinting with danger.
The other warriors shift, tails swaying and ears flicking with eagerness, but Wukula stands and turns to them.
“She’s mine.”
No discussion. No vote. The words are law.
However, someone protests; hisses and snarls, but Wukula’s hand moves faster than thought—grabs the young male by the throat, slams him to the ground, foot on his chest until ribs crack. The rest look away.
He hauls you up by the cord around your wrists, throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, ignoring your defiant hiss. Your bound hands scrabble uselessly against his muscular back, and you curse him in every tongue you know while he merely chuckles, deep in his chest, the sound vibrating through your body.
His shelter sits at the far edge of the makeshift camp his fellow Mangkwan have set up—larger than the others, walls reinforced with blackened bone and iron stolen from sky people. Inside smells of smoke, blood, and him.
All of this while your own camp keeps burning and the raiding party celebrates. You pray to Eywa that someone managed to flee and is on their way to call for help at home.
Then Wukula drops you onto thick furs. You scramble to your knees, wrists still tied, glaring.
He kicks the entry flap shut. Removes his armor piece by piece—slow, deliberate—until he stands bare before you, lazily stroking his hardening cock.
Your face burns and you swiftly look away, ears flattening in silent submission and fear as he stalks closer.
You bare your teeth, but it looks more like a grimace. “I’ll kill you in your sleep.”
He grabs your queue and you yelp when he yanks your head back so you look up at him. “You can try,” he says, almost fond, like he admires your fire, “but first you’ll scream my name.”
He cuts the cord around your wrists with one slash of his dagger—then grabs your wrists again, pins them above your head with one hand.
“Say my name, kalintu,” he purrs roughly. “Say Wukula.”
Your jaw tightens as your nose scrunches up in a snarl before you hiss through clenched teeth: “Tsaheylu si ngeyä txìmhu.”
Wukula pauses at your insult, then snorts. His other hand tears your ruined top away with one harsh tug. Cool air hits your breasts; your nipples tighten instantly.
Your eyes widen, you gasp and squirm in his iron grip, and Wukula groans at the sight.
“Stop!” you whimper, but his head is already lowering to your chest.
He takes one dark peak into his mouth—sucks hard, sharp teeth grazing. You arch despite yourself, a choked sound escaping your throat. He switches to the other, hand sliding between your thighs to rub your cunt through your loincloth.
“Filthy little liar,” he growls against your skin as he feels you getting wet under rough fingertips. “Body tells the truth your mouth won’t.”
Two thick fingers push inside without warning, breaking you open for the very first time. You yip and whimper, hips jerking. He curls them, strokes a spot inside you that makes your thighs shake and your belly tighten, his thumb grinding your clit in rough circles.
“Look at you,” he taunts, pumping faster. “Soaking my hand already. You were made for this—made for me.”
You curse him again. He laughs, pulls his fingers free, and shoves them between your lips.
“Taste yourself. Taste how much you want this.”
You bite down hard. He hisses, but doesn’t pull away. His pupils blow as he leans in, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper: “Do that again and I fuck you dry, txepvi.”
Wukula flips you onto your stomach, yanks your hips up, and wraps your tail around his wrist to keep it from smacking him. Your face presses into leather that smells like old blood and soot while he spreads your thighs wide and notches himself at your entrance.
One brutal thrust.
You cry out louder; back arching more as pain and pleasure twist together. He fills you completely, throbbing ridges dragging against every sensitive inch inside you. He doesn’t wait—pulls back and slams in again, setting a punishing rhythm.
Each thrust forces a sound from you—sharp gasps, broken moans, helpless mewls. He fists your hair, changes the angle until he hits that one spongy spot over and over.
“Say my name,” he growls again. “Tell me who you belong to now.”
You bite your lip until it bleeds. He reaches beneath you, fingers finding your swollen clit again—pinching, rolling, and rubbing relentlessly.
“Say. It.”
He lets go of your tail to grab your kuru instead, connecting the pink tendrils with his own before you realize what is happening.
“Wukula—!” The word finally tears out of you on a sob as your world suddenly narrows down to him.
Wukula roars in triumph. His pace turns feral—deep, hard, claiming. You come suddenly, violently, walls clenching around him, slick gushing and coating his thighs while his wretched self connects with your soul, like a drop of poison into fresh water.
He follows seconds later—groaning shamelessly and burying himself to the hilt, flooding you with hot pulses of his seed, marking you inside and out.
And he stays inside you long after, chest heaving against your back, one arm banded around your waist.
“You’re mine now,” he rasps against your ear. “Claimed. Kept. Bred.” Each word is followed by a nip along your nape.
You tremble beneath him—body spent, mind reeling, but something fierce and alive sparking deep inside while your kurus stay connected.
You don’t answer. There is no need. He feels what you feel, and you do the same. His deep, dark chuckle vibrates against your back. Sated and satisfied.
The entire camp heard you scream his name.
And they already know—the Mangkwan have gained a new member.
warnings/tags: non-canon |angst |+18 content | sexual insinuations | age-gape between characters | mentiones of sensitive topics such as: toxic relationship - emotional & physical abuse - anixiety - violence -
Summary: After falling from the Ikran, you found yourself in an unfamiliar village of Aranahe people hidden within the forests of Kinglor on the Eastern Frontiers. Despite your disorientation, you managed—if only for a moment—find solace in memory of the past, which, as you would soon come to realize, was nothing more than a fairy tale spun by a girl who, above all else, longed to love and to be loved.
part one - you are here | part two | part three | part four | part five
The last thing you remembered was the howl of air cleaved in mid-flight followed by the desperate cry of your fallen winged brother...A memory as vivid as it was real, mirroring the pain that now pierced your whole body—pain you fought desperately to suppress, propping yourself up on hands withile the other stayed restrained. The room you found yourself was shrouded in half-darkness, lit only by the dying glow of a hearth at its centre. The walls of the chamber were decorated with painted tapestries, and dyed silks hung right up to the ceiling, thus separating the common space from the one you were currently in. Looking across the room and getting your eyes used to the dark, you recognise small details finding in them characteristic craft of Aranahe's people - dyes and textiles that now catched your attention. Known for it's artistics values, their's artscraft - thanks to Wind Traders from nomadic Tlalim clan - was very popular and in high demand among other na'vi tribes.
Something that your little world, the world you grew up was deprvied - the hidden beuty the world has to offer. It was easy for a innocent girl like you - a girl who know nothing about the outside-world known only from his [Wukula] stories...To believe every word he says: a promise of a better life - free from suffering that keep intoxicating your people's mainds and souls.
Involuntarily, you reached now for your neck, hoping—perhaps even certain—to find there a memento of that day. A necklace crafted by the finest artisans of the Aranahe tribe, adorned with rare stones—one of the many gifts he used to bestow upon you each time he returned from one of his expeditions, as though seeking to atone for his absence. He was nineteen by that time and already managed to gain himself quite a reputation among other warriors of Mangkwa's clan. And you? No girl anymore, yet not fully a woman. He took it from you. It was not taken by force, yet not given freely — a quiet breaking of something that would never return...
- "I see you brother Wukula..."; breathing these words in a prayer-like whisperr, you reached your hand up to trace its presence with your fingers, but the moment your hand reached your neck, you realized it was gone. Hissing with anger, you began to scour the room - giving little care to its decorative interior now, knocking over nearby vessels and smashing some of them against the wall in rage. - "Where is it?!" Your voice soonreached the pair of na'vi who happen to be passing by, and who soon find themselves inside kelku. They fell just short of your height, yet of an entirely different build—broad-framed, powerfully shaped, with clearly defined muscles. Both their hair and their clothing were adorned with jewelry distinctive of the Aranahe people. Blinded by pure anger, you didn’t notice when one of them made it close in afford to stop you, causing much pain to your left hand that you - by now, knew was broken. Pain was nothing new to you — more than that, you were irked by his arrogance in thinking he could lay his hand on you. - "Get your hands off of me!"; with ears pressed flat against your head and fangs bared in defiance, you repeatedly tried to tear yourself free of his hold with low, warning growls shifting between him and the other man.
Letting your gaze pass from one to the other, tense and ready to strike, the other two were joined by yet another member. Taller and more imposing than the other two, it was his oddly familiar figure that suddenly caught your attention. He surely wasn't one of them - one from Aranahes'. Apart from strange-looking armour, as well as the rest of ornaments decorating his whole attire, what made you even more intrigued was his RDA (Resources Development Administration) equipment. You remembered seeing similar ones at SecOps (Secury Operations) base of Sky People. One Wakula told you not to touch or get close to despite himself using them in fight agaist the enemy.
Noticing your gaze on him, he stepped closer with his eyes swept from your long prominent, traced with ash neck, up to your scarred face, —scars that your people wore with pride—before hunching, studying your sharp features, finally meeting your eye level. -"You are safe now."; speaking in a low, calm voice, he tryed to reach out his hand towards you, carefully, just to meet with one of your long, cold hisses - a kind of warning. - "Woah, easy there..."; he said, looking little trouble with his hands in defense gaining quiet laugh from two other na'vi.
Not used to company other then the people of your kind you watched this strange interaction between all the three men - before the one called So'lek has reached to one of his pockets, pulling something that seemed familiar to you now. -"Here, I believe it must belong to you." Looking at the piece of jeweller in his hand, you quickly recognised in it the most treasured memento of love you shared. - "You...give it back...!"; snaching it out of his hand, you hold it close to your hear, hiding from anyone's eyes. It was broken. Suddenly you realized that you were alone now. Again. Hiding head in your arms now, overhelmed by familiar feeling of being left behind, a burden - first to your parents and now by your people, you desperately wanted to hide from the world, the world which has little meaning to you without him [Wakula]. Without your yawntu. Looking at you at moment like this, you seemed to him more like your age now - as for So'lek you were still a evenge (child; young girl) behind the facade you tryed to built, a girl who grew up far too soon, before she ever learned how to be a child. At some point you reminded him not less of himself from the time of annihilation of his whole clan. - "It's s special one, just as you must have been special to one who gifted it to you."; stated the na'vi just from the single look of how you clenched it in your hands. - "I found it today in the woods - not far from the place of your fall". Hearing him mentioned the incident that must have took during your flight over Kinglor woods on Western Fronties, you gave him a suspicious glare but say nothing, already plotting a plan of escape in your head. - "I could ask local craftsmen to fix it or do it myself for you. Looking on a type on weave and used materials I can tell it's not Mangkwa's work - not sure if Aranahe either giving the use of bone...". Sending you a kind smile, he reached for the necklace, which was imminently met with yet another hiss of yours. - "Pxasik!" (scraw that!) Without giving it a second thought, you've rised on your feet and hurried past him, heading toward the exit when your steps faltered. Suddenly the floor seemed to tilt beneath you, the walls stretching and contracting, a dull roar filled your ears, drowning out everything else, as your heartbeat thundered violently in your chest. You reached out blindly, fingers grasping at empty air, before your strength finally gave way.
Just as you feel like falling, you found yourself in a pair of strong arms of his, holding into you and helping steady your own balance. The world around you seem to keep on spinning, as you fight to stay aware. - "Careful.."; said softly, getting himself down with you on the leather and fur that were covering the floor. His presence seemed incredibly soothing to you now...-"You must have temperature. Here, let me check." Without warning, he placed his forehead into yours as to confirm his concern. - "I will go, call for Tsahik".
Just as he was about to leave your side, he felt a slight tug on his arm ...
- "Please stay. I don't want to be alone. Please don't leave me again..."; talking in fever and calling his name you nestled yourself next to the forest na'vi - just as the darkness drew you in.
author's note: if you reached to the end of - what I hope to be a first part of more to come, please don't be ashamed to share Your thoughs on your very journey on Eywa Path (as I like to call the series) together with the characters of Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora. I hope you will stay with me longer! <3
Pssst...english isn't my first language so I'm sorry in advance for any mistakes in syntax, typo etc.
What do you think about Wukula being deadly awkward in a soft interaction with a cute-and-kind RDA-scientists human!reader?
THX🫀
ᴄᴀᴛ (ꜰʀᴇᴀᴋ )ᴏɴ ᴀ ʟᴇᴀꜱʜ
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴡᴜᴋᴜʟᴀ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ꜱᴄɪᴇɴᴛɪꜱᴛ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
Tw: Wukula is possessive af, scenting, semi courting rituals.
A/n: I hope ya like it.
Masterlist
Ever since the Mangkwan step foot into the RDA base, a na'vi in particular quickly imprinted on you. Later you learned his name was Wukula. You had your acquaintance and you thought that was going to be it. But no. Everywhere you went, he was there. Somehow, he found out about your location, and he'd be there. Watching you work, asking you questions you didn't mind answering. It was nice having someone to talk about your research and knowlage.
Then came the problems. Since Wukula had made himself known. He'd scare off your coworkers, specially the men. He'd growl and his at them. No one dared to come near you afterwards, you earned a lecture from your Parker, telling you to keep your feral cat on a leash. He did remind you of a bald cat in some way. You'd apologize and tried talking to Wukula about his behavior, but he'd insist that he'd only keeping you safe.
More things began to happen, how he'd hold you. Rubbing his face onto your face and neck, leaving his scent on you. Later came gifts. You'd receive small trinkets. Such a necklace made of feathers and bones, you couldn't tell if they were from animal or na'vi. You didn't ask. You simply thanked Wukula and put on the necklaces. He'd purr every time he'd see you wear the necklaces. He started to drop off strange meats. As much as you'd like to eat them, you couldn't since they were toxic for human consumption. You'd feel bad since it must have taken him time to hunt. But he understood.
You were in the lab again, late. Working on some paperwork that needed to get turned in. Meanwhile, Wukula was there. Sitting on the floor, sharpening his blade, with a mask dangling from his neck. Inhaling some oxygen every now and then, when he'd spot a male scientist walk by, he'd glare at them. Sharpening his knife more, to intimidate them. Making them leave in a hurry.
"You know, you don't have to be here. You can go if you want." You told him, as you signed some papers. "And leave you alone with them? No." He responded as he sharpened his knife. You sighed with a small smile. Wukula then topped what he was doing, crawling like a cat towards you. Seeing what you were doing. "You do this all day?" He asked, looking over your shoulder. "It depends." You answered, as you continued your work.
Wukula continued to look at you, seeing you very focused in your work. He knew how much you liked your work. You'd go on and on about your research and so on. He found it adorable. He also noticed the necklace that you were wearing, made with bones from his last hunt. It was slightly bigger then you, but you wore it anyway. He couldn't help but purr. You heard the purr near your ears. "Are you purring?" You asked, turning to look at him. "I don't purr." He responded, quickly. His tail moving side to side, you couldn't help but giggle. "You are." You said, teasing him.
He frowned, but didn't deny it. He couldn't. You obviously heard it. "You're the cause of this." He tried to justify. He then pushed the chair back, before you could say anything. He was now sitting in front of you. Laying his side of his face on your thighs. Slightly rubbing his cheek against them. Most likely scenting you. It surprised you, but you didn't mind. You softly ran your fingers on his broad shoulders, caressing his rough and scarred skin. That made him purr, making you giggle even more. He was like a cat on your lap.
She stood in the center of the clearing with her hands free at her sides, fingers trembling despite her best efforts to still them. She would not give them the pleasure of seeing her break. Her bow lay discarded, broken in the dirt. The bloodied knife already taken. The forest pressed close, in a quiet judgement, leaves dancing around her though there was no wind. Even the animals had gone quiet, as if Eywa herself had drawn in a breath and was waiting to see what would happen next. Fire light up the bark of the surrounding trees, painting the gathered Na’vi in gold hues. All familiar faces, hunters she had run with, women who had braided her hair, children she had cared for, all stood in a loose circle, eyes averted. No one spoke her name.
The clan leader stepped forward.
His shadow stretched long and warped across the ground, swallowing her form. His queue was heavy with beads of bone and feather, each one earned, each one a testament to years of listening to Eywa’s voice. He did not look at her face. He looked past her, as if she were already gone.
“You have spilled Na’vi blood.”
She did not flinch.
“Yes,” she said looking at him. Her eyes masking any emotion she might have felt. The word rippled through the air, like a stone dropped into water. Murmurs spread like fire.
“You struck first,” the leader said.
“Yes.”
“You killed one of your own.”
She met his gaze then, steady and unashamed.
“He harmed my sister.”
The crown around her grew silent, murmurs and judgmental looks shot her way.
“You chose violence,” the leader said, voice hardening. “Eywa offers many paths.”
“She offered none to me.”
That, more than the blood she spilled, sealed her fate.
The leader raised his hand, “You will not speak again.”
They forced her to her knees and she did not resist. The ground was cold beneath her palms, familiar as breath. Her eyes searched a pair of light amber, comforting and gentle. Her younger sister Tsi’u. She smiled then, seeing her well and alive. She was her only remaining family, the one person she would give up everything for. Her sister’s eyes welled up with tears, but she did not intervene. Tsi’u knew very well that this was final and that her sister already prepared for what’s to come.
The elder stepped behind her.
She felt the blade before it touched her skin - the shift of air, the pause.
She did not scream.
Pain shot across her back, hot and precise. Her jaw clenched hard enough to ache. Fire bloomed, spread, settled deep into her bones.
A reminder.
She breathed through it.
The blade carved ritual marks into her flesh, slow and deliberate. Symbols that would follow her wherever she went.
Kinslayer.
Unclean.
Forsaken.
Her hands trembled, but she did not cry out. When it was over, she sagged forward, breath heavy, blood warm against her skin.
The clan leader spoke, voice hard and uncaring.
“Your songcord will be forgotten, no spirit tree will hear your prayers.”
And then he looked at her for the first time, eyes cold.
“Eywa has turned her back on you.”
She smiled.
Mist crawled low along the forest floor, cold and wet against her ankles. Her back burned beneath it’s bindings, every movement pulling raw skin open again, blood seeping slow and smearing her garments. She did not slow. Pain was just another rhythm now, like breath, like the beat of her heart.
She did not look back.
The forest closed behind her without ceremony. Eywa did not mourn her absence.
Good.
She walked until her legs shook, until the burn in her muscles dulled into something distant. When she finally stopped, it was not to rest, but because hunger demanded attention with a sharp, hollow ache. She hunted alone, her sister not by her side. The first attempt failed. Her aim thrown by pain and exhaustion, her grip weakened by blood loss. The arrow went wide causing the animal to flee. She did not curse, she simply adjusted, waited, tracked again.
Patience was easier when there was no one left to disappoint.
When she finally brought something down, there was no prayer, no gratitude for the Great Mother. Her hands shook as she worked, blood smearing her fingers. She ate, eyes up, senses sharp, ready to run or fight at the smallest sound.
The first clan ignored her.
She stepped into their clearing openly, unarmed, scars visible. Their eyes lingered on her back, then slid away as if she were something cursed. An elder lifted his hand.
“No,” Was the only word she needed to hear.
The second clan watched her longer.
A hunter’s gaze caught on the scars crossing her back, recognition flaring sharp and immediate. Whispers followed her as she passed between the huts. Someone reached for a weapon, her ears perking up at the sound.
“You will bring misfortune,” their Tsahik said. “Go.”
She slept in the trees that night, stomach empty, listening to their fires crackle below. Laughter drifted up through the branches. The sound felt nostalgic. She shifted her gaze to the sky, tears threatened to cloud her vision at the thought of her sister.
Will you forget about me, tsmuke?
By the third clan, she did not announce herself at all.
She circled their territory for two days, mapping paths, observing their warriors, memorizing their routines . When she crept close enough to steal dried meat from a basket, a voice spoke softly from behind her.
“We smell death on you.”
She froze as she felt the tip of a spear on her back. Her hand instinctively going for her blade.
“You are marked,” the voice continued. “Eywa has judged you.”
She straightened slowly then turned to fully look at the other Na’vi. The spear, leveled now at her chest, did not waver.
“Leave.”
She left without argument.
Hunger became a constant companion, so did pain. Her wounds festered, then hardened. Her hands blistered and split from climbing and killing. Sleep came in pieces, never long enough to dream.
Then she smelled smoke.
The smell of ash and charred wood.
Mangkwan.
The forest around their territory felt wrong, trees scarred, undergrowth trampled, bones half buried. This was not a place Eywa lingered.
Yet, she did not turn away.
Movement exploded from the forest, dark paint mixed with ash and red, jagged blades, bodies moving fast and low. She rolled instinctively as something flew past her head, the arrow landing in a near by tree.
And then she lunged.
The first Mangkwan died quickly, throat opened in a clean, brutal motion.
The second caught her across the ribs. Pain flared hot and sharp. She snarled and drove the blade into his gut. The third knocked her hard to the ground. Breath left her lungs in a choking rush. She kicked, scrambled, bit down a scream as something stabbed her leg.
Blood soaked the earth.
She rose anyway, sloppy but determined. Another body fell. Her vision swam. Her grip slipped. Still, she did not retreat. Then the pressure changed. The group of warriors that screamed and shouted silenced down.
Something heavier stepped into the clearing.
He did not rush.
He looked at the dead, at the wounded and then his eyes found her, bloodied, shaking, still standing. His gaze traced the scars on her back.
“You should be dead,” he said.
She only barred her teeth and hissed. They fought. He drove her back step by step, forcing her to react, to adapt. Every mistake earned pain and every success was answered immediately. Her muscles screamed. Her lungs burned. She struck him once, twice. She felt the impact, the satisfaction. It was not enough. He caught her wrist mid-swing and twisted hard lowering her. She went down under his weight, knee pressing into her spine.
“Kill me,” she said into the dirt. “Or get off.”
There was a pause.
Then he laughed. Low and amused.
“You survived alone,” he said. “Marked. Starved. Hunted.”
He hauled her upright, fingers firm, assessing.
“You chose us before we chose you.”
She wiped blood from her mouth, her eyes looking coldly at her captors.
The forest around them was silent, burned and empty.
Eywa did not intervene, and she did not pray for it.
⋆˚࿔ Summary: After mangkwan and RDA seized hometree, you were captured, unfortunately catching the eye of a raider.
⋆˚࿔ Warnings: Forced tsaheylu, Dubcon, Reader is soon to be mates with So’lek, Revenge sex, P in V, Wukula has a piercing, Slight blood play, Knotting.
⋆˚࿔ Phew ok, I didn’t think I’d be able to write this but I’m so happy I did. He’s so terrifyingly hot🤭
Screams echoed around you as smoke filled hometree, everyone scrambling to get out and away from the raging fire within. Outside was no better, with mangkwan and RDA working together they managed to capture many of the Aranahe.
Some Aranahe were spared while others were either shot or had their kurus severed, a fate worse than death itself.
You were only lucky as you bared the sarentu mark, something that caught one of the raiders eyes. See, you and So'lek were soon to be mates, deeply in love to where he placed two hair rings in your own, mirroring his.
The raider knew those all too well, he ordered you be brought to his yurt while he went to fetch something.
You squirmed, trying to break free of the two na'vi who threw you into the yurt. Without a word they left you there, your wrists still bound together.
After a few minutes the flap opened, the raider coming in. You scrambled back, ears flattened hissing at him. He only look amused, taking small steps closer.
"Well well.. i did not think he would be the type to take a mate" he admitted, his gaze studying you before he pulled out his knife.
Your eyes widened in panic "I don't know who you're talking about! Please!" He only chuckled, the sound bone chilling.
Crouching down to your level he spoke "No? You bear his signature" two of his fingers going to the rings in your hair, a scream tore from you as he ripped the rings off taking some of the hair with him aswell.
Tears pricked in your eyes but he didn't care, this was no longer just for revenge. He wanted So'lek to hurt, to crumble when he finds out that his precious mate is no longer his.
Slowly the raider untied the strings of his tewng, the cloth falling down with his cock springing free. It was thick, adorned with the same bumps on his skin but one thing stood out.
A small metal ball at the tip of his length, bioluminescent pre oozing from it. The raider never thought to get it until he met the RDA, now it's his favorite.
Seeing your gaze a small smirk crept upon his lips "By the time I am done with you, he will no longer want someone used."
As he moved closer you hissed kicking at him, he only caught your leg with one hand, the other grabbed his knife pressing it against your stomach.
Stilling in fear, he slowly moved up your body. With the same knife the raider slashed your tewng then ripped your top, beads flying in either direction. "You will regret this.." you grit out.
Now bare before him you felt repulsed with yourself, unfortunately he didn't care. Throwing your legs over his shoulders he spoke "Maybe if you behave, I will not have Si'net cut your kuru."
He pressing the knife to your neck, holding it there as he lined himself with your entrance already slick. "Does this turn you on, little one?"
"Fuck y-" your words cut off into a cry, the raider had slammed home, balls pressed against your ass. Above you he let out a small groan, he wasn't new to pleasure but eywa did you feel incredible.
Pulling his hips back he began to set a pace, his piercing hitting your spot almost instantly. Biting your lip you tried to suppress your sounds, not wanting him to have that satisfaction.
Despite your own situation, you worried for So'lek.. wondering if he was ok, if he had gotten the other Sarentu to safety.
The knife pressed slightly harder against your throat breaking skin, snapping you from your thoughts with a hiss. A small trickle of blood seeped from the wound, the raider moved the knife aside leaning down to your neck folding you in half.
His tongue licked at the blood, savoring the rich taste making you feel grossed out. Only then did he kiss you, but it was only a distraction.
With his hand free of the knife he pulled his tswin over his shoulder, taking your own he then brought it up letting the tendrils connect.
Immediately you gasped into kiss, stars exploding behind your eyes. Everything was so much more intense which only meant- no.. no he didn't..
The raider broke the kiss, a thin line of spit connecting your lips till it snapped. He panted softly giving one last thrust which pushed you both over, your legs instinctively pulled him closer as the pleasure coursed through your body.
Above you he collapsed, smushing your smaller frame into the dirt below all awhile you felt his knot locking inside, warmth filling you.
A few minutes passed before he whispered in your ear "You belong to me now, not him, me."
Oh how you loathed him! For the last few days he's kept you in his yurt under the watch of Zari, whom you learned was his younger sister.
She was so weird, just staring at you from where she sat by the entrance, knife in hand. Standing up to get something, Zari stood aswell, a small creepy smile on her face just daring you to mess up so she can attack.
Ears pinned back you only got some rations from a chest he kept in here, they weren’t nourishing like the food your used to but you had no choice. Just then footsteps approached, the flap opening with him- Wukula there.
“You may go Zari” he commanded, gaze solely on you. With a small hiss she left, you were relieved since she has been dying to sink that knife in your body, wanting to watch you bleed out while the life leaves your eyes.
After she was gone, he slowly walked over “Since you have been so stubborn I have come with an agreement.”
Scoffing you held a hand out for him to stop “I want nothing from you, only my freedom.” He chuckled, lifting his own hand to wrap gently around your neck “You get no freedom, you are mine, my little play thing.”
