sacrilegious shaman @yawntu - Tumblr Blog

Jul 12

PLEASE getting stoned with mean step-bro!Lo’ak

𝚉𝚎𝚊𝚕

a/n. Yeah, we are back low-key, and there’s so much step-bro and a/b/o shii in my inbox; y’all are FREAKED out. I honestly feel like A/B/O tropes work well with Na’vi because they seem to make genuinely deep bonds rather quickly. This is barely proofread. We die like alphas here.

pairing(s): Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk’itan x Reader, Tsireya te Tsika'u Ronal'ite x Reader; briefly

word count: 9,775

warnings: NSFW / MDNI, PWP (ironic), adopted sibling dynamics they’re not related by blood but were raised by Neytiri, Casual mentions of Lo’ak genuinely judging you, even if it’s out of his own insecurities and anger, he kinda slut shamed you, A/B/O dynamics in a scent way? Maybe slightly ooc, Drugs/alcoholism/substance abuse in general, Touches on themes of coercion but ultimately consensual, Creampie, Self-worth issues, Brief mentions of blood, scratching and bruising, one singular clit slap.

“They are always together now- gossiping- scheming even.”

Lo’ak’s intuition is half joking, half truly disgusted in his observation as he slides a long-handled netted basket off of his shoulder with a jerk of his deltoid. Flopping it onto the stone slab where his older sister sliced fruit, the shells of mollusks clamoured into a pile, adding to her additional prep work.

“Should they not be here helping you?”

He motions to the poorly strewn mats on the floor, surrounding a crudely slated stone meant to act as a cutting board for the open-fire cooking that would inevitably feed you all tonight. As he watches you throw your head back into what he could only assume to be a cackle. Lo’ak finds himself thinking about how he had finally grown genuinely fond of Ao’nung’s company after all of these years- only for his sister to replace him as a pyre of disdain. Kiri’s intrusion pulls him from the spiraling thought,

“You can help me too, you know? You are literally right here.”

She unceremoniously shoves a purpling pod towards him, and then points her knife at the two receding girls practically dancing away, “They are helping, by the way. Ao’nung forgot the skewers, so instead of wasting time collecting and stripping new ones, they’re going to go grab some from mom.”

She furthers her sentence by pointing her knife behind her towards where their older brother, Rotxo, and Ao’nong were putting more energy into their conversation than they were into finishing a pit for the fire they would all make dinner on,

“These snumìnaare are also useless, but I hear no words from you about it?”

Lo’ak only snorts a tut at her, and at the stray insult their friends received, as he squats down to help his sister. He accepts quickly that he would have to help Kiri, considering you decided that two people had to make the very short trek back to the village together, a one-man job.

He had just gotten back from a literal run all the way back over to the village- after the whole group spent the day drinking enough to put your fathers to shame- only to grab a huge bag of mollusks your mothers were kind enough to collect for you all. Only to sprint back as quickly as he could as to not waste anyone who was kind enough to clean or cook the foods time. If that was a one-man job, why the hell did you think your job was a two-man job? Ao’nong’s stupid ass could remember to bring two baskets of liquor- but Eywa forgive if he remembered one of the only things they were meant to be cooking with.

“What? Are you mad that our sister has taken your girlfriend?”

Her quip makes not only his thoughts pause but he pauses mid-skinning of the hard-skinned ocean fruit and turns his head back to his sister indiscriminately.

“Huh?”

His lip curls over his tooth in a disgust-laced sneer.

“Are you stupid?” Kiri starts, “Do not answer that. I knew it. Literally everyone else instantly noticed- how are you not aware? Obviously, our sister can charm a woman better than you.”

For a second, Lo’ak hopes his sister chokes on the fruit she snacks on indiscriminately while they prep meats and fruits for dinner. Her words leading a realization that chilled his skin and made his heart thump almost painfully in his ears.

“Her and Tsireya? Nah. I would know. As I said, they are both gossipy. Buzzing in my ears like gnats. They can’t keep a secret.”

Yet nothing the rest of the evening presenting him with could distract Lo'ak from keeping tabs on you. He kept you in his peripheral vision as you went about your night. Following Tsireya between her friend groups as if entertaining her masses was your favorite thing to do. Kiri’s words echoed against his skull to the point of a splitting headache. Watching you two now- it only proves that she had obviously been right. The way your ears hang on her every word as she speaks makes him resent the people he off-handedly speaks to.

As more people had flooded the sandbar bonfire, he, against his better attempt, begun to lose sight of you in the pure chaos of festivity. He had thought that in the time it took for him to retell a story of his great escape from a pxazang in his youth, it would be impossible for you to saunter from his gaze. He could not believe that he had been distracted enough for you to slip away, disappearing into the not-too-large crowd.

He had hoped his composure was still intact. That no one could tell that his eyes anxiously scanned the crowd, hunting for you. He should be enjoying the melt of raw decapods, briny mollusk skewers, and perfectly charred fish drowned in sauce, but he spends every conscious thought analyzing your every step tonight, not just the way you act, but the way you act with her.

The way Tsireya sat next to you never seemed out of the ordinary to him. Her focus was never usually on you in particular, and outside of the usual girlish daily entertainment, he never saw you two together. How could she be screwing you and go about her day-to-day so casually? He wonders if you two have always been this way. Is that why things do not seem different between the two of you? How long had he been clueless about your cruelties?

By the time you catch his eye again, he is mid-bite of a fish head, and you are red-cheeked, slinking over to Kiri, stealing a saucy decapod from her bowl while you whisper in her attentive ear. He hates that he notices the way your meticulously adorned hair falls from your shoulder, tail lifting tantalizingly behind you as your body bends towards the table- and not that though you had tried to wipe the evidence, there were streaks of kohl at the ends of your clumped lashes- a stain still on your cheek. You had perhaps been crying, for one reason or another. He hates the fact that he wonders such a perverse thought when there is the possibility that you are upset. He hates even more that his tail flicks with feelings he cannot quite place.

He remembers his earlier conversation with Kiri so vividly as she turns to you to say goodnight, running the back of her hand over your cheek in a soothing goodbye. His heart rate rises, and the organ beats so forcefully against his ribs that it aches when he realizes that Tsireya is not also present. The fact that whatever happened has you saying goodnight and leaving down the long sandbar towards the village could be the result of her.

The sight of you, and the decision that it spurred, has made the shell that he scoops from the large fermented liquid bowl at the center of the table go down easier. The smell is sharp, earthy, too sweet, and it stings his throat down to his already aching chest as he slurps it.

Lo’ak has always been very good at making his very bad decisions look dangerously organic. The laugh while clapping his hands with his friends, as he wished everyone a good night, seemed all too natural. His end-of-the-night, too-tired-to-go-on, last shot was too realistic in performance to be perceived as a lie. He wastes not even a second before he locks onto following your half-washed-away footsteps back towards a sleeping village.

Thankfully, Lo’ak is alien, at the end of the day, he would have biological advantages that you simply did not. His limbs are longer than yours. His dad had always said that humans only survived because they were born to run and that Loa’ak had an exceptionally efficient stride length. You were agile- he thinks some would say, but nonetheless, you were within his line of sight before he realized he needed to catch his breath.

He is surprised you did not hear him (if he was being quiet) he was not intending to do so. For a second, he realized how fucking weird he was being. How predatory. He did not know if it was the sharp sea breeze or the realization that you had no idea he was looming so closely to you, but he had stopped, toes digging into the sand.

Like a yerik face to face with an arrow, he froze. He feels gross watching you choose to walk towards what everyone considered to be a scenic route adjacent to the village. Your eyes are glued to the floor as you walk- likely you were still crying- that you have been upset the whole time. Or well, he thought that was the case- until the spark of a flint caught his eyes, and he realized that perhaps you were looking down to shield the spark with your hair.

He is relieved that you walked past her home (all of your homes, really) and that the reason for your early departure was only to crook yourself into one of the many sandbars mangrove woven loungers, and there was no trace of his newfound enemy to be seen near you. He had recognized it as one made months ago by their friends- when the water was much higher and still grazed the bottom- and it had been taken advantage of by your friend group as a prime nap spot.

Maybe, he thought, if Tsireya wasn't the reason for your tears, she would be there with you- part of him hoped this meant what he thought it did. He also knew that, maybe he should not have been so relieved at that thought that he was able to disregard his guilty anxiety. However, he doesn’t think twice before he is rushing up behind you, balls of his feet silent in the sand- committing to surprising you as he snakes his hands down on your shoulders to jostle you slightly.

You swing your elbow back to hit him because, though you did not know how long he had been following you, you knew it had been him watching you. You knew he had watched you sit down and that it was him who so brazenly approached you. You especially knew it was him whose hands snaked around your delicate skin due to the overwhelming fruit-spiced amber nearly clearing your stuffed-from-tears sinuses.

“Go away, Lo’ackchhh”

You hiccup out the end of his name- pathetically ruining your attempt to hiss at him, teeth snapping centimeters from his face as you turn. He wants to laugh at you; he even lets a chuckle build in his throat before he sees that you have truly continued to cry a bit while smoking.

His thumbs are quick to wipe under your eyes, staning his thumb with powdered coal. He ignores your exasperated sigh as he positions himself to sit in front of you.

“Hey- what happened? Why are you like this?”

You are almost heart-warmed, but he is also snatching the blunt out of your hand to smoke himself. You know you make a face at this because he grins, “You are crying- I bet you got boogers. You don't need this yet.” The gentle voice replaced with impish vex.

Your tail is swishing against the woven lounge and curling around your propped-up leg in projected poison. He thinks for a second- there is genuine disdain radiating from you.

“What does it matter, bro-” he cringes at the title.

“Go back to the party where you belong; get out of my face.”

“You belong- who made you think you don’t?”

You respond by leaning your one elbow against your knee and digging your palms into your eyes, melting spots blinding you from the pressure. “Holy shit,” you sound like your father when you speak, and you are just as bad at talking about your feelings as he is, ready to complain about his pestering-

“Is it Tsireya?”

His words have you reaching for the perhaps too tightly wrapped herbs out of his hand and pulling it to your lips.

“No- Yes- it's not actually what she said, but it is what she meant, I guess. Can you just not be a dick for once, and can we just hang out quietly for a bit? Please?”

He doesn’t like how meek and defeated you sound. You can tell when you look up, and his ears are pinned to his head in a sort of confusion, pupils small and hyper-focused on your half-curled form. But he only nods when he sees you release a too-large puff of smoke and pull your knee closer to your chest.

You pass him the blunt, and Lo’ak, for once, keeps his promise not to annoy you. His lack of pestering you about why you were upset allowed you to calm down enough to enjoy passing a smoke back and forth between each other. He enjoyed looking at you when you were too lost in your own head for him to notice, yet his mind was racing with what could have possibly been said to you to have you so overwhelmed- so defeated.

Realistically, he should be enjoying the cool breeze that the seaside woven lounge had subjected the two of you to. Zone you out while he listened to the soft crash of the waves behind him. However, he could only look at you, watch you intently as you struggled to continue to smoke after such a long, and what he only assumed to be dramatic, night. But you cough and barely cover your mouth and throw your head back as if that would possibly help you, and you look useless. Your brows unfurrow by the time you lean back up. A bit of a relieved grin that your coughing fit is over as your hand extends to him, only moving your body forward enough to make the transaction.

Once he grabs it, you melt down on your side of the lounge, body curving along the length of the outdoor couch, but the back of your shoulders and head are propped against the armrest like it’s a makeshift headboard. Your one leg was bent and rested against the backrest; the other was propped and bent similarly, to conserve room on the couch for him. Despite how hurt he felt with you, his heart swelled at your effortless accommodations. You were too inviting. Too perfect of an image to not have his mind wander to idealistic corners- corners where you pick him and not her.

Fantasy’s where you let him stay in this dark corner of the beach with you for literally anything more than smoking a joint with your adopted brother after a dramatic night. He would take any speck of affection you extended to him. Comfort you any way you needed… He feels so guilty for hoping that she was terrible to you. Hoping that it meant that even for a little bit longer, he could keep you to himself.

He has to adjust his position, mimic your relaxation by throwing his one leg over your body to land against the backboard of the lounge, and cage either side of your curled-up form between his legs. Comfortably sharing a lounge chair not particularly meant for more than one person to lie down. He watches your hands move to wipe the sand that invaded your sitting space off his legs, haphazardly flinging sand back to the floor;

“You are gross, and sandy. Why do you have to come bother me with all this tonight?”

But your left hand finds its rest, fingers wrapped pliably around his ankle, thumb smoothing over the thin skin of his inner ankle. Your own bent leg, tired of holding itself up, falls out to relax against his solid leg. You could not hate his presence so much. Especially when he is kind enough to lean forward to share with you. He sits up for a bit, as he watches you begin to inhale the beginning-to-end blunt. Your sapphire ribs grow and expand with your breath, and he eyes how your waist tightens when you inhale. Your tail has fallen across his leg, resting across one of the protruding veins by his knee. The tuff of your hair felt like fire against his skin.

Suddenly, Lo’ak feels like he’s inside. Like the air around him cannot move, and that the eyes of everyone he has ever known are on him and it’s not out of humiliation or fear… but out of regret. How has he wasted so much of both of your time? How could he have ever given anyone the chance to ever sit this closely to you?

“What can she possibly even be doing to you, anyway?”

He knows that you are instantly mad again at his question. He almost regrets the inquiry that falls from his cross-faded vocal cords, but he genuinely wonders how she could properly handle any aspect of your multilayered needs. Needs that he had spent your whole lives becoming accustomed to.

The question catches you so off guard that you nearly drop the smoke, lucky to awkwardly catch it before the burnt tip falls into your lap, as you quickly sit up. The tone in Lo’ak’s voice is unfamiliar to you- and that frightens you.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He can tell you are wildly offended at his question, though the strained squeak in your voice and the quick movement to inhale your lungs' capacity of smoke prove to him that you know exactly what he is talking about- and you aren't sure how you want to answer him.

He feels a little bad that he sneers down at you as he takes the joint from your exasperated hand, watching you turn to look towards the water instead of him. You can't bring yourself to look at him without tears of humiliated discomfiture welling at the corners of your eyes. You can't bring your eyes to him. There is just an unhurried confidence in the way he sits.

His mid back falls against the armrest; he seems overall too relaxed, considering he is broad‑shouldered, half‑lounging against the armrest, giving him a slightly asymmetrical lounge to accommodate his stature. His shoulders make the armrest look small, almost insignificant beneath him, but the real issue is that, from your intertwined form, you slumped down further then him, was face to face with his sweat-dappled torso stretching along the woven pad of the lounge, long and sturdy. You inch backwards under the pressure of his deafening silence in a squirm.

“Well, you are just obsessed with Tsireya all of a sudden- and now you are crying, so it has something to do with that?”

His voice started uncharacteristically calm, like he knew the answer to the question already but he could not help but end the quip in his usual bullying, sarcastic jest that you had grown to not only be comforted by, but also expect throughout your lives. He thinks for a second that this is the reason you have been making an effort to hide your poorly hidden rendezvous with none other than Tsireya. The same women his parents idealized him with before he couldn’t bring himself to continue when it became a charade.

For a second, he realizes that he has spent the whole day hoping that the only reason you did any of this was that you knew it would hurt him. There was a part of your clueless brain that knew he and Tsireya never worked because he wanted you. That you wanted to just get him worked up. But the way you hand instantly wraps around your neck, and you look up to the twinkling stars above in defeat, makes his heart pang.

Maybe it is also because your face contorts into a grimace of guilt, and your ears pull tightly back against your skull; he knows it is more realistic to think that you hid all of this from him because you thought he would feel betrayed that you had been hooking up with the only romantic escapade of his life. A well-known aspect of friend group lore. He has time to blow smoke towards your form before you acknowledge him with a small shrug of your shoulders;

“Well… I thought she was obsessed with me. I don't know; I just thought she liked me- liked me more than you, at least.”

Even you cringe at attempting to lighten the suddenly re-thickened mood. Considering Lo’ak’s smirk is laced with a snarl, you know it did not land. His pupils darting to watch as your tail quickly curls over your now pulled back legs in cowed compliance.

“Damn, backstabbing whore, and you are sitting here crying, so it ain’t even worked out for you.”

The words are quick, like a whip, and make tears finally spill from your eyes. Blurring blobs that keep you from realizing that his sneer falls quickly, replaced by a small grin that would make you think, even for a second, that this was all a bit, and that he was messaging with you from the beginning to get a reaction out of you. That he did not care that you spent any time with his- practically speaking- ex.

Most importantly, you miss that he did not really mean you were a whore- that he felt bad that watching your face fall made his stomach twitch- but he doesn’t change the conversation. He just leans further back onto the armrest, long and large, deciding he was going to finish your blunt himself and force you to answer him. He has already made it this far.

“Do not call me that- you ended things with her years ago.”

He is surprised that you steady your voice before you answer him. Avoiding the usual immature, nasal, and blubbery tone you often responded to him with. Of course, his insults are the part you latch on to as you try to snatch the smoke back out of his hand. Not how you hurt his feelings. Not how you lied to him.

Your hands only meet his own however, as they wrap around your wrist to toss yours aside. You know this conversation has been inevitable for weeks- since you started this dangerous game with his ex-girlfriend, but part of you still curses yourself for sitting back on the wicker in a huff, rolling your eyes in the process, and staying for whatever rudities Lo'ak had to spit at you to move past this event.

Though part of you is at peace with this outcome, because he was right. It did not work out for you. He eyes you as you give in, returning to mimicking his propped-up position, resting your legs back against his, even going as far as flipping your tail back over, fuzzy end flopping back onto his inner knee. Accommodation.

“But yes, you are right. She doesn’t want me.”

You had never once in your life admitted that he was right about anything. He thought for a second it was another way you were accommodating him now- making yourself smaller to please him. It makes his brows furrow and his lips pull into a frown. Now that you’ve continued to speak to him, he has no time to focus on the fact that you returned to lounging so casually and openly in front of him. How could he blame you, though? Who could you possibly be closer to? It pained him to wonder if there was anyone else you could be so relaxed around. You have been inseparable since your youngest years- never once were you not trailing behind each other like lingering shadows. Despite the often aggressive nature of your childhood arguments, his constant bullying, and his teasing, he had always favored you. Which is why he hoped you felt exceptionally guilty that he was so displeased.

Eywa has to forsake him- his mother had literally taken you in and raised you with the same love she showed the rest of his siblings after the unfortunate death of your parents, simply because it made sense to raise her childhood best friend's daughter alongside her newest son. Every day for all of those years, you and Lo’ak were together- but how could he love anyone else? How could he watch you love anyone else?

“So why do you still smell like her?”

Lo’ak pulls his inner leg up to rest his arm on his lower thigh, motioning for you to further explain the story. Your arms curl over your pearl-adorned chest as you roll slightly on your shoulder, turning away from him slightly; only your eyes snap over towards Lo’ak, finally meeting his looming, judgemental gaze- and you dare to look enraged at what he thinks is a rather astute observation.

“Are you fucking mad at me or not?”

Your words are sheer desperation as you snap at him more aggressively than you intend to, considering you will not turn your head from the waving sea to look towards him. Ultimately, you know you are in the wrong, but no one threatens your pride more than Lo’ak.

“No, of course, I’m absolutely elated that my best friend is whoring herself out to the very near and dear to my heart-“

“YOU DUMPED HER!”

You move finally, looking forward, and him and shooting towards him to just about get in his face. You wave your hands at him as if you have any say in his feelings, sitting up too quickly on your knees to meet eye to eye with him. Had the blunt not been obstructing his dominant hand, he’d have grabbed both of yours up, but he opted to use his only free hand to smack your hands back down towards your laps.

“Do not raise your voice at me- you are the wrong one.”

He maneuvers the blunt from his dominant hand so he can extend a threatening finger at you before handing the last hit of the blunt to you. You try to open your mouth to answer- to defend yourself- but the way he stares you down has you accepting you must tread the lines he places carefully, face screwed in a defeated, petulant moue.

“I could not really care less about what you have to say to defend yourself right now,” he adds, landing like a twisted dagger in your gut.

You recoil the same way you do when his mother or father scolds you- something you’re rarely used to. No one ever holds you accountable- so Lo’ak never gives you a chance to talk your way out of anything. Especially this one. Not when you have so deeply hurt him.

“Lo’ak-”

Your voice has the stupid bleat you use to get out of doing chores when his father is barking orders.

“Shut up- finish that and tell me what happened tonight so I can feel some sort of pity for you.”

He nearly wraps your fingers around the blunt himself as he pushes your hand to your lips. His puppeting has him in proximity to you, letting him get another good smell of your body. Your stomach reeked of her. All the mesenteric nodes below your skin, poisoned with what he would consider unfamiliarity.

"Is it really worth it? Does it-"

“Obviously, she is worth an awful lot if she is worth breaking your brother's heart.”

Your body jumps a bit at his words, and you huff out of your nose, squeezing your knees to your chest to rest your turnt head away from his gaze as you grow uninterested in the soon-to-be roach of a blunt. You felt your body recoil at his words. Flinch at the very implication of harming someone so close to you for your own pleasure. Breaking your brother's heart. Because that's what he is.

His ears twitch down as he glares at the crown of your head. Lo’ak rarely referred to your status as siblings- since his adolescence, he has always had a crush on you. He has figured that at this point, people have caught on.

“Lo’ak we are just bored- only a few years ago, things were literally being blown up around us. There is not much to do anymore…"

“I thought I said I did not want to hear excuses. Especially an ungrateful and selfish reason like boredom.”

For Eywa’s sake, he was never the warden like this. You could always inevitably talk circles around him- so Lo’ak’s unyielding, cool wrath made you writhe. He truly couldn’t comprehend how you could whine out such a selfih, bratty answer- because you are bored? Had he harbored any romantic feelings for Tsireya still, and had you given him that excuse? He’s not even sure how he would begin to react.

“You think perhaps I care more that you lied and hid this from me?” He finally asked,

“I did not lie to you I just did not tell-”

“You were deceitful-"

“I was lonley.” You admit to him, handing him back the ending smoke you did not want to finish anymore, “Besides, I don't even know how this became about you. I was the one crying.”

His form shadows you as he sits up. You feel one of his palms on the side of your head, and a thumb caresses your loose hair, grazing your cheek. You feel him laugh a bit through his nose, half-hearted and soft;

“So you get to be a whore when you’re bored, and there are no repercussions?”

You do the predictable and try to push his hands off of you, not even trying to sit up to meet him. Yet Lo’ak only needs to knit his fingers through your hair to keep you in place and stop your aggressive advance. You only whine when the force of your shove at his arm yanks your own hair.

“Lo’ak stop it-”

Your nails dig into his forearm as your eyes strain to look over where he threatens to pin your head against the armrest.

“I am sorry you had a bad night;” He starts, “If she rejected you or whatever- but I have every right to be mean to you.”

When Lo’ak sits up on his knees, extending his form to his full length briefly, only to return down to curl his body over you, bring his face close to yours, his hand forcing you to crane your neck the way he positions you to avoid him tugging your sensitive scalp.

“Not like this.”

Your whiny assertion laments across the air, and he worries you may leave bloodied marks down his skin with the way your nails dig into his wrist and forearms- the ache in your voice leaves a worse mark on his heart. He worries that maybe you would not return the advances he began to plan. He worried that the way your tail is snaked between his legs, twisting and wrapping around his own, meant not what he felt it did.

He thinks this is the most pathetic you have ever looked. Reddened eyes lidded over, and so desperately straining to look at him that you appear cross-eyed from his looming stature, lashes clumped together and face red from crying. He also thinks it is the most beautiful he has ever seen you. So pliable and in your own way, submissive.

For a second, he wants to untangle his long fingers from your soft hair and loosen his grip against your pinned cheeks he now squeezes between his other hand- but you were sitting so still between his legs, and now you were letting him crane your neck up to finally look towards him fully, and you haven’t let him get this close to you in years without snapping, or hissing or growling. He couldn’t force himself to give this up.

“Please, Lo’ak, stop being mean to me-”

“You like it- you would have stopped me already.”

It’s a low grumble; he sounds almost strained- maybe nervous. Like a growling animal long stuck in a trap. Too long stuck in a trap.

“Besides, you are the one who likes being mean to me, huh? Prancing around like a whore making me look stupid?”

Your eyebrows furrow at his words. You were not prancing. You were hiding. Not because of you, or him- but her. She did not want anyone to know. She simply did not see a future that aligned with you. And she did not want to deal with that in the present… outside of sex.

“St-stop callin’ me a whore-” his laugh is mean as it cuts you off,

“Fine- ‘M sorry, lemme replace the smell then, huh? I’ll fix it.”

You think you take too long to answer him because, for the first time in years, Lo’ak’s face is in your neck, nose running against just beneath and in front of your ear. Licking across the veins and his nose, dancing across your cheek.

Memories flood back of times of inappropriate closeness throughout your life. Other times that you had felt his breath in your ear like this. The warmth from his body shields you from the seabreeze, and you are thankful for how stoned you are to avoid processing the very ambered beach-salted mineral scent of him burning down your suddenly very clear sinuses.

“I never intended to make you look stupid-”

You try to wiggle your head out of his hands and turn to face him on your own, but he is finally face-to-face with your sensitive neck, so he doesn’t budge. You couldn’t make him budge. After his few deep breaths,

“So you were just looking for sex from her?”

Of course, that's what gets your eyes to start watering again. Whether it was the humiliation of his words or even the reminder of the fact that that's what you were to Tsyiriea.

“Y-No. No, I don't know... I just feel like no one likes me.”

This is the most open you’ve been with anyone in months, and of course it's your boundary-crossing adopted brother pulling it from you like rotten teeth.

“I like you.”

You finally feel his teeth against your neck with pressure, an incisor catching on a bulging artery. He hates that you flinch at the admission, and subconsciously pushes himself deeper into you, loosening his grip on your jaw to run his fingers across the opposite side of your neck and face.

“We are not thinking properly right now.”

You have always been the rational one.

“We are apparently not thinking properly every minute of every day, then… are we really going to go back to torturing each other like that?”

You don’t know if you are more focused on his descending hand dancing down your sternum or the fact that, for the first time, he truly kisses your neck. You don’t jump away from him in the slightest- like he had been used to. Instead, you let his alien hands travel from their previous constricting position down your twitching stomach, and to your hips.

The pores on his back tingle and tighten at the realization that for the first time you finally melt into his hands, you didn't feel the urge to push his exploration away. As he loves on you, your gaze travels to watch Lo’ak’s hand, resting casually on your hipbones, the knuckles paling as fingers curled into your flesh engulfing your bone.

"What if-”

You try to reason, sit yourself up on your hands, to pull him away from his new mission of trying to pull you to lay you down on your back. Your proximity was sudden and deliberate. For years, your physical contact had been limited to the reflexive gestures of siblings—quick hugs, a shoulder bump in passing—but this felt like a conscious choice to bridge a gap that has been too longstanding.

Lo’ak pulls himself from where he licks at your neck, coolness falling over the spiraling silava trail. His gaze began to travel your face before he paused to look down at the charcoal smudge of your eye makeup on your cheeks. He doesn't let you finish your sentence before his eyes are back to your star-reflecting ones, his expression open and devoid of the hesitation he usually carried in public with you. "All I know is I hate the way you smell right now," he admits meekly, "let me fix it… Please,"

He didn't reach for you further, but he did not move away either; he remained in that charged middle ground, leaving the next movement entirely up to you. Though he hopes his fingers dancing against your stomach, testing how much lower you would let him feel, right down to the skin where her knows your cervix sits behind. Fingers nearly dipping into your bottoms to coax your answer.

It takes you a second- before your hand rises to meet his flexed stomach. He had beauty spots littering his lower abs, which you had sometimes imagined kissing. You could feel the thump of his heart through his sun-dappled skin and wonder if he could feel how your heart raced at your thought.

His pulse was a rapid, drumming thing, but his hands were steadily exploring your stomach without fear, then back your ribs, then behind your back where his fingers circled the first knot of the back of your top. It was a small, tentative anchor, a way of checking if he was still grounded in the same sudden reality you were in.

Lo’ak let out a long, slow exhale, his shoulders dropping forward as he finally pulled the first knot of your top, boobs finally loose from the constriction of the beads- and you are just looking at him with those big, clueless eyes. He is not sure if he's happier that he’s got you so willing like this, or that you finally seem past the point of being upset.

He shifted his weight on the balls of his feet, inching toward you until his knees propped against the back of your thighs taughtly flexing them open, throwing your legs over each of his ridged thighs. His hands leave your body, and suddenly one is propped above your head, on the armrest, he has your head and shoulders against. The other is gently palming your cheek. You think maybe he means to say something, but all he does is lean down to lay a kiss on your forehead. Then your eyes, cheeks, nose, chin, and finally he is back down at your neck where he started huffing and sniffing at a scent gland that you, as a species, long evolved past the need for.

"This is so much better for us than her,"

He finally whispered against your skin, with a comfortable sureness that made your body too quickly agree. You wonder why you spent so long avoiding this obvious path of least resistance. Why did you avoid the comfort of Lo’ak? Especially now as his lips and teeth and tongue languish against your tingling skin. There was a trace of a smile on his lips, a flicker of the same impish jest that usually drove arguments between the two of you, but it was tempered now by something heavier and more visceral. It made you reach for his cheek. The contact was grounding, a physical confirmation that the two of you were no longer talking in circles or hiding behind the safety of arguments.

He leans down and kisses you properly on the lips. It makes you feel stupid for dragging on so many pointless romantic plot points in your life. You could have saved yourself time, effort, rejection... everything. Especially with how responsive and willing Lo’ak’s kiss was. When your lips met his, it wasn't the tentative, clumsy clash you had worried it might be. Instead, it was a slow, exploratory, almost a punishing merging of two people who already knew the rhythm of each other's thoughts and were now trying to map the rhythm of their bodies.

Lo'ak's teeth are bigger than yours, and you feel their point when his teeth graze the tip of your tongue, which he drags out of your gasped mouth with his own. His touches no longer felt tentative as he pulled you up towards him, holding you up, skin-to-skin with him. When your own hands reached behind your neck to untie your top fully, Lo’ak’s breath hitched, a small, sharp sound that broke the stillness of the beach. He didn't pull away instanly to take in the sight; instead, he leaned into your action, his own hand rising slowly to cover yours- to help you and pull the top out of your hand. To toss away the partition between your chest and him by its halter as if it disgusted him. Only then, when it was fully gone, lost in the sand, did he pull from your mouth to look down at you.

His smile was instantaneous as his warm palm, grip firm yet gentle, engulfed your left breast. For a moment, you simply stayed like that, two people caught in the gravity of a decision they had been avoiding facing. Lost in the sound of the waves and the salt across your skin as he leans down to kiss and bite at the swells of your chest as his face fell down your chest to your torso. He wastes no time in kissing and licking around the intricate details across your skin, across your hips. His one hand stays on your breast, revolving between tweaking and caressing your swelling nipple. He smiles against you as you purr as he bites over a second scent gland.

Part of his bliss is ruined by knowing someone else was just in the same position he was. He could still vaguely smell her on your skin. He wondered if, despite what was happening before his eyes right now, you may not actually want him. Not the way he wants you.

"Are we actually doing this?" He finally asks.

He does not look up at where you lie, eyes closed, back finally flat, and mewing. He hated that it sounded like a plea for reassurance, not a request for confirmation, a final check of the parameters before a boundary crossing officially began.

"I think I have spent enough time talking to you tonight- giving you answers."

He can hear your voice steady, with a curl of your lip, despite the loud drumming in your chest. His tail flicks angrily behind him, and instead of speaking again, he shocks you by digging his teeth sharply into the crease of your thigh where inguinal glands sat without warning. He is surprised that you nearly shriek, considering he had just been licking and kissing at the same for the past two minutes. He should feel bad when there's a metallic twinge in his mouth, but your hand rushes to knot into his braids.

“‘S yours- it’s yours- don't be mean,” and your knees are jerking to the side of his head, attempting to dig the heels of your feet into the bench, to twist your hip from his aggression.

He reaches behind himself with his free hand to roughly push your leg back by the ankle, pushing your leg off the lounge and into the sand. Denying your attempt to keep him away from you.

He stands up on one leg, the other knee propped on the bench, holding your left leg up against the backrest of the seat. He admires how contorted he has your body, thinking that disheveled and malleable looks desirable on you. He bends down to kiss you quickly once more, happy that you respond right away and your lips still taste like his spit when he forces his tongue back past your teeth. You are finally licking back at his tongue as his palms briefly massage your breasts before snaking down the writhing small of your back, pulling at the sturdy braiding of your tweng. Pulling you up by the hips, closer until the space between your pelvis vanished entirely. The sensation was overwhelming—the sudden warmth of another person, the specific weight of him against you, the way his breath hitched in time, the threatening contact of his hardening dick.

His less needed hand drop to one of the knots, eyes straining from where he eyes your covered cunt, propped up by his own leg, to your heavily lidded gaze. You don't wait for him to ask if you’re okay, or give him a chance to make a degrading quip- you just wiggle your hips in a tantalizing beg that made his ears rush with noise. He doesn’t even untie the braided and beaded fabric all the way, snagging the fabric against the sensitive underside of your tail as he practically yanks at the fabric. He thinks people in the village were woken up by your yelp.

You flushed red hot, very much aware of just how exposed you were with your legs out and your twebg so soaked through that it was likely slightly transparent. You knew you should close your legs and save some sort of decency, but he's now half folded, half sliding to his knees between your splayed legs, and the imposing existence of his broad shoulders has you spread frozen. He hooks his fingers over the last bit of resistance and slides them down your legs and tail.

“You did quite a number on these.”

You don't even think he tossed your bottoms in the same pile as your top as he chose to focus on his hands running up the fat of your thighs, pausing to squeeze at your firm flesh to spread you slightly. “Wonder who’s gotten you so worked up?”

You can help the annoyed hiss and bite your lower lip in an effort to stifle it, blush spreading over your face. Your cunt clenches before his eye, trying to grip on something but finding nothing- so sensitive that just the feel of the breeze on your heated flesh was almost painful. So swollen and flushed and dripping with slick in his face. He is dizzy. Technically, he’s seen this much of you before, in passing—but he’s never been allowed to really look at it, never like this.

“You.” Your voice cuts the air, shame and excitement rising in you in equal measure. “You know it you. Not anyone else.”

Your tail is twitching wildly against his inner calf. You are switching between petulant flicks and desperately snaking yours around the base of his own- and he can’t help but think of how precious you were to him.

His cheeks hurt from grinning as he runs his calloused thumb over your lower lips, circling the bottom of your opening. Your gasp is raspy, and your thighs shoot inwards and quiver. His palm is flat as he pushes your leg back open. His touch was light, just a tease compared to the clumsy intrusions you’d been used to. Your hips - against your will - jump up, closer to his face.

“Relaxxxx.” He chuckles, but he meets your movements with the instant intrusion of a finger in your cunt. “I told you I’d take care of you.”

You arched your back, hips thrusting down on his hand. He could touch you inside so much better than she was able to, then you were able to. His rough digits curled towards himself as he firmly rubbed you. You could not believe he was there, kneeling between your spread legs and touching you so deeply. He is more focused on kissing your stomach and mons. Sinking his teeth into your skin and raking his free hand down the back of your thigh, palming the fat of your ass.

He likes these noises this draws out from you very much, but he can't help but be worried that an unfortunate passerby may fall victim to your dubachery so he has no choice but to slow his fastpaced assault, and run his tongue flatly over your swollen clit,

“I said relax,”

His voice raspy and lust filled, a sharp spasm of arousal deep in your cunt jolts through you. “Just quiet down before someone ruins this.”

You try to relax, to let him have you. Just to breathe…let him do what he wants. However, he curls his fingers just behind your bone and glans that he had been biting and bruising all night, never going in too deep. He is good at rocking his unnaturally large hand back and forth, pressing hard into you, pressure building unexpectedly quick.

You finally lift your head to look down at him only to find him already staring up at you, watching you as you contort and gasp with pleasure. His pupils, blown out, darkened with hunger, concentrated directly on you. You realize he had, at some point, added more fingers without you noticing. Your legs tremble, imagining if fitting them all was even possible.

You wonder if your eyes on him made him as nervous as his eyes on you made you feel as he leans down and kisses your hard nub. Burying his face into your cunt and you cry out loudly against his previous instruction. Thankfully, his tongue darts out to lick you still, only grumbling in warning. He pressed his lips harder against your cunt, firmly kissing and licking you as he continues his fingers assault on you. You cry out in earnest now, unable to keep yourself quiet, unable to even pretend you have any measure of dignity at this point in your life.

Your back arches against the lounge, your hips driving down on his face and deeper onto his fingers. Panting, you groan out your climax as it finally cracks over you, lower stomach relaxing in an overwhelmed bliss. He doesn’t stop, though. Both out of his own enjoyment, and also the desire to make sure this moment is unforgettable for you. Despite the ache his jaw begins to experience, he never waivers, broad tongue licking you firmly through your orgasm, gently easing you down from your intense high. He loves the way your inner lips pulse and twitch out your pleasure against his grin. Your walls grip and pull at his fingers.

“You’re alright, pretty girl…” He said, basking in the clench of your core at his words, pulling away from you gently, his mouth shiny and wet with your cum.

He gently pulls his fingers from you, dragging them up against your walls as he does so. He stands up and leans over to kiss you, his soft lips wet with your scent. You thought you would have been mortified to taste yourself, but it fills you with a deep longing for more. He kisses you deeply, tonguing you so thoroughly that you feel dizzy from it. He strokes your cheek when he pulls away, his thumb coming to rub lightly along your lower lip. He pauses, thumb pressing into your mouth, inviting you to suck him. You wrap your lips around his thumb and tentatively suck, swirling your tongue gently around his thick digit.

He stares down at you, lightly thrusting his thumb in and out of your mouth, allowing your lips to pull with his motions. He fumbled with the heavy tie of his tweng, and you blush at the logical conclusion of events. He frees his almost uncannily thick cock, gripping it in his rough hand and giving it a few pumps. Your eyes widened, taking in his thick, veiny forearms, and the unconventionally thick cock beading at the tip. Your sucking stops- stifling your whimper at the sight of him.

Time didn't so much pass as it melted for him. Especially when he takes the wad of spit you have left on his thumb, and slides it across the tip of his cock, instantly trying to snag himself against the hole he is praying he has scissored open enough.

“I wan’ yer cunt to smell like me for the rest of your life.”

You don't even have the time to process his words as his left hand pushes the back of your one leg up and open, sliding the head of himself into you. You moan, sitting up slightly, feeling just the tip slide in past your slick entrance. He could feel you fluttering around him already.

“Oh-Eywa-you feel so good sweetheart- finally- fuck-” He pushes in deeper, enjoying how much of a mess you already had made, how eagerly you accept the intrusion, “I’m going to make a mess out of your cunt.”

He was practically grunting like a cordered beast looking down seeing a thin sheen of both of your arousals coating his dick, the sight made him throb inside you.

“Lo’ak!” You moaned, writhing your head back again while digging your claws into his dominating forearm.

Your legs burned from keeping this position, but your whine does not slow his brutal exploration of your pleasure. You lifted your head, rushing to bury your face in his chest and wrapping your arms around his neck. You try lifting your hips then humping back down creating a perfect rhythm for the both of you, your climax nearly settling over you like the thin sheen of sweat that covered you both. He grips both your hands that fall down to his chest in only one of his, looping some of his fingers with yours- thrusting up into you drawing out your orgasm. He was close behind, and he couldn’t help himself much longer, and the way you pulsed- unbearably warm and tight around him- the way you moaned his name with your head thrown back in pure bliss was enough to push him over the edge.

“You feeling better yet, huh?”

His gravelly voice rolls pleasure over your body, “I’ll fill your greedy little cunt until you're satisfied.” He lets go of your hands and reaches an arm down your stomach until his fingertips find your clit. His touch is electric, sending sparks up your spine, and you arch against him with a desperate whine. He circles his thick fingers over your swollen bundle of nerves — his cock still bullying itself against your cervix in a pace that tomorrow you will remember. You try propping yourself on your arms in a pathetic effort to either feel closer to his face or catch a glimpse of his length vanishing inside of you over and over.

He grunts, pulling his hips back, and you reel when he drives into you again. Your arms finally give, and you collapse onto the lounge beneath you, tits just barely bouncing with his movements. He continues the quick circling of his fingers over your clit and the fast thrusts of his hips against your ass until you’re crying again. Making the arm that's been bracing him instantly falter to cup your face. He bends himself almost uncomfortably to cradle his face against yours while still pleasuring you.

“Come on, baby, come for me… come with me.” His lips are right by your ear as his hands are falling to your hips, forcing you to grind down against him exactly where he wants you.

He only shoves into you one more time, and your hands are wrapping around his wrists- squeezing him righter then your cunt was, and your eyes roll back into your head as your orgasm bursts through you like falling stars, burning up until there’s nothing but his wild groan in your ear and the wet spasm of your cunt. It shakes though you so badly you finally sink your teeth back into him for the first time tonight. An almost harsh bite in the meat of his shoulder that has him reeling into you.

“Good — fuck- good girl,” he groans, his grip on you turning to immobile stone as his trust shallow before he goes rigid, spilling into you.

He lets out a string of unfocused curses and then a gentle mumble of your name, sweeping your hair off your neck so he can press a kiss to your soft, sweaty skin.

At this point, your malleable body is exhausted, pleased, and shuddering as the last waves of your release dissipate from your nerves. He pulls out of you with a groan, reluctantly removing himself from his comfort between your legs.

You can feel it immediately — the warmth of his cum as it follows his retreating cock, dripping out of your spent pussy and uncomfortably pooling down to the valley of your tail. He can’t help but stare. He’s marked you with himself inside and out — it makes his own tired cock twitch with renewed arousal.

“Eywa, pretty girl…” he trails off, eyeing the sight before him.

Bringing his hand to the bottom of your asscheek so he can spread you open to get a better look. Your lapis skin burns at the obscenity of it — of him admiring the mess he’s made of you. You want to hide your face, turning away from him and pressing your cheek into the back of the seat so he can’t see you fluster.

His fingers ghost over your puffy, fucked out folds, and you gasp, clenching at the overstimulation, causing more of his seed to trickle out of your fluttering hole. He collects the creamy white on his fingertips and smears it over your cunt before easing his fingers inside again.

“Are you not done?” You whimper and writhe as he pulls them out — coated with a mixture of him and you.

He brings those fingers to his tongue and licks them clean with a satisfied growl. It’s vulgar and makes you gasp in shock until you remember this is Lo’ak, and he is shameless.

He has a lopsided smile as the same fingers he just licked clean quickly drop down with a quick “plap” of a half-hearted smack to your swollen fold and clit, gathering a new glob of both of your fluids. You look towards him, betrayed-

“Payback for all the torture you put me through,” he explains, extending his long arm towards your mouth for you to lick clean, and he beams that even without tsaheylu, you know exactly what he wants from you. Despite how tired you look, his digits are cleaned as quickly as he offers you them.

All he can really do is gaze at you in adoration before dropping his face back down between your legs. You tremble in anticipation and melt into him as his nose bumps your clit, and he licks himself off you while the sun finally begins to rise against the horizon.

I missed you guys, writing, and world-building in general. I have to make a master list because I want to do a little "scent profile" for everyone (COUGH COUGH)

#avatar smut #avatar the way of water #avatar fandom #avatar fanfiction #avatar fire and ash #avatar frontiers of pandora #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan #lo'ak smut #lo'ak imagine #avatar x reader #avatar imagine #avatar reader #na’vi avatar #pandora #awow #james cameron avatar #lo'ak sully #tsireya #ts is so ass #loak sully #avatar way of water

yawntu

Feb 26, 2023

Not a request (unless you want it to be)! but imagine avatar!reader showing neytiri a little girl on girl action (scissoring) cause Jake's been too busy with the whole clan leader thing to please her 🫣

This had to get its own little moment

a/n: I love her I had to write this when I got it something about her makes me swoon. She has so many layers and she is my queen. I finally formatted it. Not proofread yet oop

pairing(s): Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite x f!Reader, extremely brief Jake Sully x f!Reader

word count: 2,319

warnings: NSFW / MDNI Caught, Scissoring / Tribbing, Switch x switch couple, Pregnant Neytiri bc she’s a milf it’s more so a plot point then focused on, Praise kink (receiving), Neytiri doesn’t really know what she’s doing but your enthusiasm makes up for it

Neytiri could not bring herself to understand why she was sitting here complaining to you. Her life had finally found some semblance of peace. She knows that she should be thankful for the way her people have risen from the ashes, for having such a strong, competent mate and a mother who knew what was best for her people. She was thankful she still had a family to support her and her beautiful planet that was at least safe for now.

She should be at ease, but she’s not. She’s frustrated and antsy. Maybe it was because she was pregnant enough to be left behind in things she felt needed her attention, or maybe she did not actually care about all of that, and the sun was just too hot. She was not sure what it was, but she couldn’t shake all the bitter moments that had accumulated throughout the week and led her to this very moment. Sat lounged out by a stream not so far from the village, enjoying lunch with her best friend. Though she loved your daily walks, even your company did not soothe the bubbling anger that she ultimately has concluded boiled down to Jake.

“All he does is work!” She snaps at you, plopping a round berry in her mouth.

For a second, you flinch as if you’re the one she’s scolding for neglect. You’re thankful you’re not at the receiving end of her sour mood as she rants about how annoying her day has been.

“Well, he’s dealing with a lot of guilt, I’m sure. Men think too much and get stuck in their own brains.” You shrug as you finish peeling her fruit for her, trying to ease her foul mood while not throwing the friend you greatly admired under the bus.

She thinks it’s sweet how you’re always looking to help her and how loyal you have been. Almost to a fault.

Jake had given you the order to look out for her, and you did the most to make sure you met his expectations- like the good little ex-SEAL you were. She thought it was cute that you were so eager to please. Listened to orders so well.

“I’m dealing with the weight of his tsawl txìm ‘evi,”

Big ass kid. Her joking comment makes you bark out a laugh and throw your head back as you swat at one of her sore legs that lies across your own lap and legs.

“Better hope he doesn’t have his father's big ass head,”

You make her laugh as you point to your skull to annunciate the comment. She likes that she doesn’t have to act properly around you. She didn’t have to be nice. She felt she could act her age. Act like she wasn’t Tsakarem. That you were not an alien who had lived a whole other life before you chose this. That her non-native mate wasn’t tasked with rebuilding the world around her with the help of her mother while Neytiri was forced to focus on being pregnant.

She thought that preparing for motherhood would leave her in isolation and drive her into a solitary pit of despair, lost in her own thoughts, but yet here you were. Like her little shadow. Always there to keep her from feeling so alone. You were a good listener, too. You didn’t talk much- you'd just let her ramble about whatever she felt so she didn’t have to keep it in and go insane with grief. It’s why she trusted you so much.

“I’ll never have another child again,” She rolls her eyes as she wiggles her sore calf over your lap again,

“Please, continue.”

You smile softly at her, returning to rubbing her swollen calf and thigh that you had previously neglected to peel a particularly rough citrus-like fruit for her.

She can talk about anything to you, and you’ll nod and joke along because ultimately she’s your best friend. The best friend you’ve ever had. You think she’s interesting and you care about the way she feels. That’s probably why she likes you so much right now. Your attentive hands on her anyway.

She tries to occupy herself with the citrus that dances across her tongue, but all she can feel is the pad of your thumb massaging her swollen thigh.

“Let me sit up so I can get your other leg and hips.”

Her tail flicks as you move past your leg to sit on your knees. She doesn’t mean to seem so annoyed in her actions. She is not mad at you. She really just hates Jake right now. For how tired he is. How busy he is.

He always makes it up to her, but had he not been so busy, she wouldn’t have been so enticed by the swift movement of your hands against her sapphire skin.

She can swear you’re teasing her on purpose. The way you prop yourself on your knees and enunciate the pretty dip of your hips. Neytiri can’t help but shift and open her legs a bit more. To give you more room between her. She’d say she was getting comfortable, but she isn’t stupid. She knows you know it too. You’re terrible at controlling your body language. It’s almost rude how quickly your tail is twisting behind you and the way your ears are pointed right towards her.

Your nose crinkles in concentration as you move her leg to rest on your full hips while your thumb instantly moves to push a firm long stroke up the side of her thigh. The feeling shoots across her nerves, and she sighs at the alleviation of pain in her hips. It almost makes her forget how much you had turned her on.

“You are so blessed.” She’s shocked at how quickly your palms pressed running across her sore muscles have begun to ease her tight hips and her sour mood, “You’re doing so well,”

She’s thankful you’re so easily appeased. Tail swishing behind you as you rub where her leg met her hip. She’d encourage you the rest of the day if it meant you didn’t stop.

“I have one order, gotta keep you from killin’ Jake during the day.” A giggle falls from your lips.

You lose good girl points at the mention of Jake's name, and for the fact that you tease her for her temper. It is Jake's fault she was so irritated today. You knew that. It was obvious how needy she was for intimacy. Jake was as perfect as he could be to her- he was just so busy. You know she didn’t have the heart to complain to her mate that she was horny and lonely when he was carrying such a burden. You could chalk her well-hidden desperation up to her being pregnant, but your face flushes at the thought that maybe she just liked you a little bit. You can’t stop your silly smile at the fact that her hips relax even more when you switch over to her opposite leg. One leg lay lazily on the ground while you knead your hands against her flesh.

“Am I helping with the pain a little?”

And though you’re asking her a question, you’re not looking up at her from your position between her legs. Too busy watching your hands paw at her swollen hips and thighs.

You’re sweet to her. It’s why she controls the motion of her tail snapping up off the ground to smack right up against what she hopes is just as needy and wet as she is.

You yelp, and it makes her laugh, and though you’ve been half purposely touching her in the hope she’d reciprocate your touches, you’re almost shocked at the outcome.

“Why are you wet, huh?”

She hopes her words work you up, but the fact that your eyes shoot to hers for only a second before looking down to her core ignites her own needy breath.

“I- uh… I dunno I haven’t had sex since I’ve been on earth… like seven years ago.” It sounded like a long time- five years and some months of those if those years were actually getting to Pandora- and it felt like a nap to you. You still miss it, obviously- a little too much as she reaches her fingers to caress your wrist and it has you humming.

She laughs at you, of course. Making fun of you, even though she knew only the rudiments outside of Jake.

“You’re also very pretty.” Your quick addition accompanies a charming smile.

She can tell you admire Jake so much at this moment. You match his entranced, pretty smile. Wide eyes looking all too eagerly up at her.

“You’re very pretty too.”

Your thumb runs under the lining of her tweng as she compliments you back, and you practically purr at the soft and wet feeling her lips greet you with.

“Does it hurt here too?” You ask her, and though it’s half in jest, she nods.

“Terribly. You’ll have to help me.”

You’re a bit nervous when she reaches her hand down to untie her bottoms. It’s not until her other hand touches your hip that you snap out of your own thoughts.

“I’m afraid I’m a bit clueless though,”

There’s that pretty charming quip in her voice that reminds you she is a princess, and it makes your legs clench but ultimately calms you down over the fact that she cannot really judge your performance without comparison.

“I can show you,” You didn’t know why she made you nervous. “It’ll feel good for both of us.”

She just grins and pulls at one of the strings of your bottoms that you’re cursing for being as intricately worn as they are.

She can’t help but dance her hands down your exposed skin and admire how excited you seem to be at the prospect of relief.

She’s not even all that pregnant yet, and you’re still so gentle as to carefully position your leg to avoid her.

You sit against her a little too quickly, plopping down flush against her own swollen slit out of pure excitement before jolting back up slightly. Just allowing your swollen clits to touch.

It’s not that Neytiri didn’t figure this is how women who mated with other women slept together- but no one ever talked about it. She had heard whispers of women preoccupying themselves during heats, but she was clueless as to how it actually happened or how it could possibly feel satisfying.

Then, however, you started rocking your hips forward a little. She finally got the appeal of the feather light weight that you started with. How enthusiastically and quickly you rub yourself against her is hypnotizing. She feels bad for being so into the way your dragging across the wetness between your bodies, considering she has Jake, but she can’t ignore how nice this is. She wonders which one of you is responsible for the mess- she can believe it’s her- it wouldn’t shock her in the least- but she hopes it’s you. Even though your eyes have already started to close as you nestled your face into her leg you used to balance yourself and your hip's movements stutter and messily ruin the steady build towards both of your orgasms every time you feel too close to cumming.

The feeling of you gliding your warm cunt against her swollen clit has her sighing in lenience. If your careful hands rubbing at her hips and thighs didn’t alleviate the pain she felt before, then the way you forced her to focus on the desire to cum has cured it.

“Mmm. You’re doing so good for me- ya you’re right- fe’els good.“She choked on her own pant as she tried to sit up slightly so she could touch your tail, “Go faster please,”

One hand plays with your nipple as the other uses her outstretched legs as an anchor to grind yourself down onto her at the speeds she requests.

The fact that you turn to look at her but instead get distracted by the oscillation of her full breasts has her hips rolling up to meet you.

“Oh-ohhhh,” and she feels you fall forward at her intrusion as you brace yourself on your hands. She’s so thankful you were so flexible. So easy for you to loosen your hips, open a little more and fuck yourself down onto her.

She felt so good. So much better than what you thought dragging your clit against hers would feel like. You get why Jake folded and betrayed everyone so easily. Her nails running across your thigh or back haphazardly in conjunction with the way you feel your clit slot up against hers makes you shudder.

You really hope you aren’t setting a bad example. You hope she’s feeling just as good as you are. It’s hard for you to turn your head to face her, so you focus your energy on making sure you grind down accurately.

You try not to be sloppy- you do the best you can even though she whines and makes you want cum before she could.

You thank Eywa when you feel her nails dig into your hips and the gush of her pussy against yours.

Your “Oh fuck- fucking hell” is less ceremonious than her moans, but you can’t help it when the added slickness of her orgasm makes it all too easy to trib yourself down against her and chase your own high.

You thank divine timing for finishing just in time for your heart to drop into your stomach at the sound of someone crossing the tree line,

“Huh, woulda’ get a load of this,”

It is a gruff masculine voice that you now vividly recall giving you the order to watch out for his wife- not scissor yourself between her thighs and fuck her.

#neytiri x reader #neytiri smut #neytiri imagine #avatar (2009)#avatar x reader #avatar fandom #avatar smut #jake sully #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

sacrilegious shaman