#atwow

[divinemanicstate]

road trip gone wrong because someone got bitten

[jsooly]

death in the family (10) / sully family x human!daughter/sister!reader

synopsis, the news breaks to the family

WARNING. claustrophobia, needles, hostage situation, blood, etc

note, after this chapter, this entire series amounts to over 40k words ... which i think is cool for something i started at 2 AM on a random weekend

(MASTERLIST)

/

it'd been a long, long time since you've stepped foot into an RDA lab.

grabbing spider's masks was a quick stop to the barracks on the perimeter, and though norm's base was a repurposed RDA facility, nothing about it felt like this: cold, nauseatingly sterile, blinding.

there was a dull ache in your side. your back was sticky with the steady trickle of blood leaking from your freshly patched wound. cuffs encircled your wrists and ankles.

when your vision cleared, the brilliant overhead light made you wish your eyes were still muddled with sleep. groaning, you turned your head away, cheek scraping against the cold table. through the burn of your dried tears, you caught movement beyond the glass—soldiers and scientists moving like insects behind their windows.

panic seized your chest. your gaze ricocheted off every corner of the room you were in, searching for an escape route. i need to get out of here.

the scientists on the other side paused their tasks to watch you as you struggled against your cuffs, begging eywa that some miracle would allow you to slip your hands through the gaps.

you heard the muffled confusion on the other side. no doubt they were debating whether or not to intervene or let your escape plan run its course; either way, it bought you more time to figure out what the hell you were doing.

you didn't recognize this area of the facility, but all you needed to do was find an exit and bulldoze through. once you hit the trees, you had the advantage. besides, these scientists weren't fight trained, which meant you could easily overpower them.

pop!

your wrists burned as you dragged them clean through the cuffs. "shit," you muttered as you felt the ache under your skin, but a little pain wasn't going to stop you from launching off the table towards the door.

an alarm sounded when you kicked your holding cell open. scientists rushed to you with needles in hand, frantically trying to corral you back to their workspace.

"what the hell is happening here?!" a soldier—captain?—barged into the room, shock blooming on his face upon witnessing the chaos unfolding before him.

you pushed past him, slipping past the door he came in and locking it behind you. the clamor of the researchers overwhelmed the orders of the captain, and their stress made you smile. you turned and bolted down the hall, grateful for buffer for your escape.

the exit door was just down the hall. holy shit, i can't believe it. this was almost too easy. your smile stretched into a grin, your heart pounding in time with the slap slap slap of your feet against the floor.

the soothing, earthly smell of the forest—you recognized it through the walls, breathing in the trace amounts eagerly. you were so close. the RDA wasn't going to get you today—

CRASH—!

the flimsy corridor was rrrrripped open, the internal pressure of the compound descending rapidly. alarms and bells blared around you, red lights spinning and dousing the area in a deep blood red tone.

a skel suit broke into the hole it created, its long metal arms flailing wildly.

you screamed, coming to an abrupt stop. falling backwards as your momentum was suddenly cut off, you ducked closer to the ground as the skel suit's arm swung at your head. you scooched backwards, scrambling to your feet as you tried to maneuver yourself through the clunky metal limbs—the exit was just behind it.

your mind was clouded with desperation. no, no, no, you thought. within seconds, the skel suit blocked the exit completely. no, i was so close—

metal connected to your cheek. your head hit the ground with a resounding thump, knocking you out instantly.

/

you woke up back where you started. under the same light and freezing restraints.

after the day's events, you didn't even have the energy to confront the wrath boiling under your skin. it was weighed by something far more suffocating—hopelessness. you knew your family wasn't around to save you this time.

gravity pinned you down and said don't move. don't even think about it.

not that you could. your hands were bound—cuffed to the steel table you were laying on. in fact, your entire body, save for the insides of your elbows, was cased in metal. it was clear the RDA wasn't taking any chances with you this time around.

you couldn't breathe; the binds around your chest were firmly pressed into your skin. your heart picked up its pace—you couldn't move. no room for wriggling this time.

in stark contrast to the huge, open, empty room, you felt claustrophobic. sweat beaded your forehead—you tried to twist your head, but the clamps on either side held you firmly in place.

the PA crackled as they wisened up to your state of consciousness.

"good morning, little sully."

a sigh crackled over the speakers, harsh and grainy.

"i am general ardmore. we are in the process of scientific discovery. you're a rare case, i'm told, some kind of... screwed up mutant. you've been pretty good at avoiding us so far. i probably have to credit the discrepancies in our inventories to you, huh?"

you refused to give her the satisfaction of a change in your expression despite your humiliating position.

"yeah. we saw you on our cameras. you'd make a great solider if you weren't corrupted. in any case, do not resist and this will go smoothly. and of course, for crimes against humanity, you can kiss any hope of lenience goodbye."

the warning rolled over you, sinking into your skin. the threat was hardly necessary; your anguish had enough weight on its own.

the PA clicked off and the door to your holding room opened. scientists stumbled in with vials in hand. you didn't spare them any glances, staring numbly into the ceiling above.

let's see... you were successful in stopping the airstrike on the clan's operations. tarsem was back at high camp with the supplies needed to carry on the fight. your father was gone. your mother, too, and your siblings. they moved on to their new home, safe from harm.

that was the point of all of this, you decided. your captivity served as a distraction for the RDA... it was for the best that the clan stayed away. right?

the bile that rose in your throat said otherwise. you were painfully aware of the blood that stuck to your ribs like glue. this is for the best, but you were struggling to breathe. you buzzed with the fear of being caged for who knows how long.

this is for the best. the words were on repeat in your mind. you needed to believe that—the thought of being left behind a second time was too much to bear.

besides, you told him. you told jake that if you were captured, no one would come after you. sending clan members into the heart of the enemy just for you would be a suicide mission.

you prided yourself on being resourceful, but a third of your blood was pooled on the floor and you had military cuffs snug against your skin—this just might be a situation you couldn't squirm out of.

spider hadn't talked to you in weeks. your dad abandoned you. your siblings were probably having the time of their lives far, far away with their new sea clan friends. safe. tarsem and the clan replenished their supplies.

wasn't that the point of all of this?

you were tired.

your eyes fluttered shut as you felt your blood being drawn. there was nothing you could do but sit and take the needles and the wires. the steady beep... beep... beep... of their diagnostic machines was the only sign time was moving at all.

i'm okay with this. it was a sorry attempt to convince yourself, but it was better than nothing. i'm okay with this.

"oh," you heard from your peripheral, then a thumb swiping over your cheek. hushed murmurs followed. "someone get a sedative."

your lashes grew heavy under the tears collecting behind your eyelids—a sign as good as any that your brain refused to accept the lie it tried to feed itself.

i'm not okay with this. you wanted nothing more than for everything to go back to the way it was—someplace, sometime where you could lay here and scream, dad, come help me! dad, i'm lost, come find me. please, dad, i want to go home. will you stay home with me? and he'd hear your call and come to your rescue.

but he was miles away. he couldn't hear you now, no matter how loud you were.

you wondered, was he thinking of you? were any of them thinking of you? the day on the cliffs of high camp—was that the last time you'd ever stand together as a family?

... you wished you hugged him back.

as you sobbed silently, the wires pressed into your skin and the pain blurred into the background. at this point, you didn’t care what they did to you.

you kept thinking of your parents—wanting them to come save you. not out of hope, exactly, just... out of habit.

a syringe prodded at the skin of your arm, and you blacked out within seconds.

/

in awa'atlu, jake couldn't sleep. he'd been having lots of sleepless nights lately. it was odd—for the first time in months, the family was finally getting into a routine, you'd think he would have an easier time resting.

the kids were also restless. just the other day, lo'ak asked if norm had called. why would he be asking for norm?

night had fallen and the family was quiet. the silence between them was deafening. fish were halfheartedly turned over the fire, the crackle of flames the only thing filling the air.

lo'ak's eyes darted between his siblings'. neteyam warned him with a firm look, but he opened his mouth anyway. "dad, was there any messages from norm today?"

jake's eyes narrowed, lacing his fingers together in thought. "why d'you keep asking that, lo'ak? you expecting something?"

lo'ak's head immediately dipped, his eyes tracking the ground. "no, sir."

jake leaned back and crossed his arms. "i'm just curious, son. you seem eager to hear from him. you wanna let us all in on what you're looking forward to?"

the kids exchanged glances, a silent conversation that wasn't lost on their parents.

jake pursed his lips, pondering the situation for a moment. then, with a sigh, he rose to his feet and adjusted his loincloth. "let's give him a call, hm?"

lo'ak's eyes lit up as he met his father's gaze. "really?" the other three also watched jake expectantly.

jake chuckled and ruffled his youngest son's head. "hurry up and turn on the computer."

squeals of excitement followed the gaggle of kids as they raced to the technology corner, bickering amongst themselves to determine the fastest way to set up the call.

jake and neytiri shared a knowing look. it didn't take much detective work to deduce they were hoping to see you in the background of norm's lab.

"it's good they are still connected to her despite being so far away," neytiri mused as she removed a fish from the fire.

jake nodded, brushing her braids away from her face. "don't know why they don't just ask to call her. it shouldn't be a secret."

their conversation was cut short but the trills of the call. jake and neytiri made their way behind their children, watching the dots on the screen flicker... and flicker some more...

jake frowned. "he doesn't usually take this long to answer."

as if on cue, the call connected. a very nervous norm reflected on screen, seeding unease in jake's gut. he held back his intuition, giving his friend the benefit of the doubt.

"hey, family." norm croaked on the other side, waving. the kids said their hellos before cutting to the chase.

"can we see y/n?" tuk jumped up and down, trying to pop into the camera's view.

"uh—" norm gulped, looking off to the side.

jake's eyes narrowed, pulling back his kids away from the computer to sit at the foreground. "norm, what happened?"

"nothing, jake, we've got it under control." norm answered. "i- i've actually got some things to—"

"cut the bullshit." jake's gruff voice overpowered norm's.

norm took a long look at the family.

after what seemed like forever, he sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "jake... the RDA has y/n."

. . .

"what?" jake snapped, his eyes blown wide. behind him, neytiri whispered curses and prayers.

"i thought she was on base with you!" lo'ak shoved his way to his father's side.

neteyam yanked his brother back. "when did they take her?!"

"kids—all of you, sit down over there." jake grit his teeth, gently nudging his kids back to the fire pit. he was rapidly reaching his limit for patience and understanding, and the last thing he wanted was to lash out at anyone unfairly.

"no way, we—"

neytiri gripped her youngest son's arm and gave him a scalding look. "you will get information as we do. sit. now."

the kids quickly and quietly made their way back to the fire pit, too unsettled to finish their dinner.

"what the hell were you doing, norm?" jake bit out, jaw clenched so tight the words nearly came out as a mumble. "huh? where were you?"

norm held his hands up, trying to calm him down. his face flushed, pale skin now blotchy. "jake, i swear, if i could’ve stopped it, i would have—she’s been staying in high camp for—”

"high camp?" jake’s voice rose sharply. "why the hell was she even there?"

"she... she left a note saying she was thinking of giving it another try... i don't know?"

"you do not know? what excuse is that?" neytiri scowled, pacing beside her husband.

jake let out a humorless laugh, venom curling around his words. "that’s great. you don’t know exactly where she is. don’t know what happened. don’t know how you’re gonna get her out." his fingers curled into fists. "i fuckin' swear to—"

"jake. neytiri." norm’s voice cut in, quieter this time. he nodded, like he was accepting every ounce of blame. "you’re right. i should’ve been watching her closely. i thought—"

"you thought?" jake snapped. "i left her in your care, norm! she’s not one of your research assistants—she's my daughter! she's just a kid!"

norm wasn’t shrinking anymore. he stepped closer to the camera, shoulders squared. "i know! okay? i know who she is." his voice trembled. "i also know her. if there’s anyone who can make it out of that place, it’s her. but—but we can’t rush in there blind. that's the RDA base of operations we're talking about. i don’t have the firepower—"

"fine." jake spat, storming away from the screen toward his gear. "i'm coming back. form a squad in the meantime."

he snatched his knives from the chest, sliding them into their sheaths with a practiced fury. he had every intention to fly back to the forest—he'd even swim if he had to.

the RDA was cruel, something he knew firsthand. imagining all the things they were doing to you... all the pain you were in? how scared you must be feeling... he couldn't handle it. he couldn't linger on the countless of scenarios he drummed up without letting his all-consuming rage bubble out of control.

you were his first baby. he thought running away would protect you, but you were in the RDA's hands all the same.

he failed you before. not this time.

norm's voice rose in desperation. "you can’t come back here! you gave up your title—not to mention the RDA is watching. returning would—"

"i gave up my title," jake murmured lowly, though the anger was still there. "not my role as her father."

"jake. jake, wait, listen to me. i'll talk to tarsem. see what he knows—"

"no." jake returned to the screen, his golden eyes blazing. fuck. he knew he couldn't go back. he knew norm was right about that.

he ran his hand over his face as he fought against every cell in his body urging him to go back.

his eyes landed on the neteyam, kiri, lo'ak, and tuk. they were scared. tuk buried herself into kiri's arms as she peeked at her father, uncertainty electrifying the room's atmosphere.

neytiri was just as ready as he was to leave this village and return; he could see it on her face as plain as day. but even she understood the implications of returning. in the clan's eyes, they died.

jake took a deep breath. then another.

he stooped in front of the call, electing to listen to logic. "you get tarsem on this call now, norm."

the family held their breath as the sounds of clacking keys. moments passed, too long for their comfort—

"well?" neytiri prompted.

"um..." norm drew out the sound.

"what is it now? you're stalling." jake deadpanned, his glare fixed and unforgiving.

"um... my contacts are telling me that tarsem isn't at camp."

jake shifted, his eye twitching. why was everything disorganized when his daughter was in danger?

"oh—wait." norm's eye scanned another screen, where the communications between the clan and his base were loaded. "he's... at the RDA base."

jake perked up. "what?"

norm's eyebrows slowly rose in surprise. "he's... tarsem has already gone after her."

. . .

thanks for reading! lmk if you wanted to be removed from the taglist :)

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© jsooly ‘25

[porpunta]

𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖗 𝕹𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

Spider & Neteyam from my Knight!au for Pride month 🦭🌷

[signfromeywa]

well I actually plan to do more with him in the future! 🫡✨ I want to make him Toruk makto, coz he needs the biggest bird on the sky coz he also had the biggest dragon 😌👌🏻

It just makes sense💜

Idk what to say :D Recom Aemond Targaryen ✨ enjoy XD

I just scribbled this just for fun :D but he would ride a Toruk for sure, imagine how scary that would be 👀

[fruitmilkshake]

The beauty of hands in Avatar:

Forest na'vi hands:

Reef na'vi hands:

Dreamwalker/avatar/Recom/Hybrid hands:

[anxiousdreamcore]

Sketched my take on Paz Socorro :) she has a hand prosthetic given to her by RDA.

[beautyofattolia]

[malinka624]

He let the kids do his hair

3yl

This one is quite old but anyway

[camikiutxxx]

A spider portrait 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 im so proud of my second practice about himmm, the first was... ok, i think, still looks a little bit ugly, idk

(its a render practice too, im practicing a lot rendering)

[yararts]

Neytiri x Jake commission for Pawel.

Thank you so much for the support ❤️

>> Commission Info

[venretteart-avatar]

A gift for my friend 🏹💙

[signfromeywa]

Artfight Artwork! OC Kìte'si from Sunnypup / @Creativekits💜🥰

[jflatterssource]

[BEHIND-THE-SCENES] Performance capture of Neteyamʼs death scene - full version

[annestie]

You. You see my vision!!

Can’t you just imagine the campfire stories told about firebenders and the destruction that they bring forth? How they wield their flames and ways in which villages have been turned to ashes. All the while Neteyam and Lo’ak sit listening to this, only the latter being casted sneered looks.

I want an ATLA Avatar au. Where the avatars are the firebenders because the RDA thought it would help them 'fit in better' with the na'vi (it didn't), the forest clans (specifically the ones who bond with ikrans) are airbenders, the ocean clans are waterbenders, and the plains clans are earthbenders. Sure, we could throw in someone who can bend all four, but what I'm really after are the dynamics that would come with this.

Imagine Lo'ak being an airbender and Neteyam being a firebender. There would be so much resentment between the two. Resentment from Lo’ak that Neteyam could so easily hide his true bending. That while Lo’ak is ostracized for his looks and casted away so he won’t burn things even if he doesn’t possess the ability while Neteyam passes as a nonbender when they live in Awa’atlu. And despite never being openly ashamed for it, Neteyam still hides his bending. Sure, with the Omatikaya he openly bended, training daily to better it, but they’re not with the Omatikaya anymore. He knows that the Tsahik and people are already distrustful. He knows that him being a bender would only cause more distrust. Though, that only shows to Lo’ak that Neteyam is ashamed. Ashamed of his bending, of his family, of them.

[neteyawne]

Toruk Makto's son, Neteyam Sully, is your secret lover...!

Neteyam—your dear boyfriend, has been staring at you all night.

It's another nightly celebration amongst the Na'vi, and the clan is gathered around various fires lit as family and friends tell each other stories and tales.

Neteyam was your secret boyfriend.

As the son of your infamous clan leader, he was expected to be perfect. Stay absolutely in line and make no mistakes. He had no time for distractions.

But for you, he made an exception.

And he couldn't be happier. Yes, stealing glances at you and sneaking away with your smiling face is worth it all. The thrill and happiness he feels with you will forever remain unmatched. It was like his heart was finally living. The dull thump inside now a lively drum that beats to the sound of your soul.

"Neteyam."

He pulls away from the kiss breathless, his braids tossed over his shoulder and a smile in his eyes as he looked at you. He loved it when you said his name like that—

"Hmm?"

He doesn't give you a chance to even try and respond, because he's pressing his lips all over your mouth and face as you squirm and squeal under him

"Neteyam—!"

He laughs, gently tugging you onto the green ground beneath him as you huff. He kisses your pouting lips before positioning you on his legs so you're comfortable.

"Yes. What is wrong?"

He's smiling softly even as his finger taps mindlessly against your hip, and you let out a quiet sigh—not wanting to speak the words but knowing you had to.

"It's getting late. Your family will notice you're gone." You scold lightly, gently tracing the stripes on his chest idly as he shifts under you with a rare grin that stretched over the entirety of his face

"So? They're all fine, I am not needed right now. I will explain later—"

"What? That you were busy with me?" You say, pinching your brows with a sigh as he laughs. You didn't want Neteyam to get in trouble, but he could be so stubborn sometimes.

He's quiet after a bit, and you realize he's in deep thought when he stares off into the trees, tilting his head up towards the darkening sky before he turns to you

"I... I'd just like to stay here with you for a while longer. Is that okay?"

Your heart melts at the sight of his hopeful smile.

"And you think I want to leave you?" You murmur against his lips as he grins, cradling the back of your head in the palm of his hand as he presses a soft kiss onto your forehead

"No."

You're leaning back onto his chest after a while, watching the sun's rays twinkle out of sight as the stars rise—the night comes slowly but surely, and there isn't a single other soul in the world Neteyam would watch the moon with rather than you.

[lani-sun]

☆ ritualistic ☆

synopsis: jake reminds himself it’s just biology. just the instincts of his newly-acquired form urging him to take, to claim, to keep. and maybe, just maybe, he could’ve controlled it. (had you not made everything so damn difficult, of course.) avatar!jake sully x fem!scientist!reader

warnings: there's no plot here friends i am SORRY, kind of dark!jealous!jake if you squint, slight enemies to lovers, graphic, descriptions of lust bc imagery goes wild here, explicit sexual content [18+ MINORS DNI], dom/sub dynamics, dubcon, dirty talk, slightly sacrilegious?, dacryphilia, major major size kink, biting/marking, jake sully being himself should be an inbuilt warning, let's pretend (for the bio minor stem girly in me) that the lab is somehow perfectly clean and non-contaminated after this pls

☆

jake finds you in the lab, your eyes scrunched into crescent moons underneath scuffed safety glasses hooked loosely behind your ears. his own pin back against the underside of his head instinctively, attuned to the rhythmic, near-silent reverberation of your breath. in. out. in. out. your gloved hands (ancient latex, he notes with a disgruntled twitch of his nose) shake incrementally as you peer into the microscope you're hunched over, adjusting the brilliance of the light painting your petri-dished specimen in a silvery glow. the sound you release when you get it just right—faint, pleased, unfairly absentminded—is enough to send a spark of something foreign down his spine. something delirious, fervent in nature. something that grits his teeth on instinct, clamps down on his jaw like barbed wire, like an insatiable beast clawing at the bars of its enclosure, crying out for the feeling of your flesh (futilely human, extremely off-limits) in its hands. and god, he's not supposed to think about you like that. not supposed to want you the way he did. not when his body isn't meant for you, not when he feels the chains of his forced entrapment in a life confined to a wheelchair coming undone at the sight of freedom. at the sight of you. in this form, he could take you. hell, he could have you. bite into you. he swipes his tongue across his top row of teeth, feeling for the elongated hooks of his canines. yeah, he'd like that.

he settles on making himself known. as his low hum of greeting fractures your reverie, your gaze snaps harshly to his, ricocheting of the surface of his skin. (and he likes it, the aggravation simmering under the surface of your composure. he's always had a soft spot for brats. for an animal to tame.) he swears he can hear the startled hitch in your breath, can sense the shaky, half-jump in your heart rate. "mornin' doc," he chirps, lips quirking up at the sight of the exasperation already etching itself into your features. you rip your safety glasses off, shoving them into a pocket of your lab coat before yanking your mask down with an irritated huff.

"i cannot with you today, sully." a muscle in the delicate column of your neck bounces under his unyielding stare as you reach underneath the metal tabletop to grapple for a pipette, balancing it in the junction between your thumb and index finger. sticky, cloying heat gathers in his veins, a tangible ache hunting for purchase in between his temples. take, it begs. take her.

you continue, oblivious. "and i told grace to change the code on the damn door—"

he clears his throat. reminds himself that fantasizing about you while you're within arm's reach of him is a decision better left unmade. "aw, c'mon, don't be like that. 'm not gonna stay long. not smart enough t'be a scientist like you, pretty."

you huff. "that's an understatement. go out and do—other things, then. stop bothering me." you yelp when his hands (heavyset, gorgeously sea-blue) meet the slim neck of your microscope, slapping them away with a flick of your wrist. "jake!"

a chuckle rumbles in the back of his throat as he backs away, arms raised mockingly in surrender. "show me what you're workin' on." his tail flicks across the backs of your thighs as he stalks around the table, diminishing the space between you. inch by inch. breath by breath. prowling. you track him warily, but a sharp gasp—low, so low he swears he's imagining it—slips through your gritted teeth when his palms flatten against the counter on either side of your waist, your shoulder blades nearly pressed to the junction of his navel and thigh. you jolt when his tail curves downward to wrap around your ankle (fragile, he thinks, so breakable) and squeeze.

"hey—" you warn, the force with which you grip the lab bench beneath you burning half-circle indentations of your fingernails into your palms. "what are you—"

"show me," he coaxes, voice like honey down the curve of your spine. "teach me, if you wanna. 'm not complainin'." his face goes slightly slack when you shift your weight, the cotton of your coat brushing against his tensed lateral muscle. your proximity is stifling. suffocating. he nearly tackles you to the floor when your hand tentatively encases his wrist, the illusion of distance accompanied by an empty threat of resistance. (he just can't help himself, you see. hunting prey is in his biology; he has to do it to survive. and you understand that, don’t you, sweet girl?)

"teach you?" your voice is erogenously breathless, spine fleetingly rigid. ramrod-straight, enraptured in the suggestive slide of his skin against yours. he resists the urge to outline the arc of your back with his knuckles. with his tongue. "not a service i offer, sully. not for you."

"who's it for, then?"

you shoot him a dark look over the incline of your shoulder, a brooding lilt scripted in the slant of your brow. an unavailing warning to his wandering hands. "why does it matter?"

the scent of you floods his senses as you shift, and his focus momentarily gives way to antiseptic and dampened soil, lemon and fresh chamomile, pine and vanilla-tinged sweat. a lingering body lotion, perhaps, or a coveted perfume. (and oh, are you trouble. trouble in the form of gentle hands, soft eyes, fragile bones. trouble in the way your defiance bleeds like a salted wound, roving gaze shirking under the weight of his shadow. it is raw, the way he longs to sink his teeth right into your godforsaken throat, apologies already teasing the tip of his tongue, just waiting for him to extinguish the fire he started—).

"just wanna know who's been spendin' time w' my girl." jake's chest vibrates with amusement against the dip of your nape, but the salacious slip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth betrays him. the heat of you burns through his layers (well, layer) of clothing, akin to an open flame. taunting him. tempting him. his gaze drops to the flex of your neck, the hypnotic flutter of your pulse thrumming dangerously close to the surface; the involuntary twitch of his fingers is only customary. only natural. "you're in 'ere too much, baby. gotta get you out."

"here's where the money is, jake," you counter, and his stomach seizes when your elbow brushes the braided cords of his tewng [loincloth]. "all the samples from the valley still need to be cataloged, and norm brought me a—"

jake's voice slices through the air, crackling roughly with unbidden contempt, an edge of resentment he can't quite bring himself to swallow. "you're gettin' samples from that asshat now?"

you crook a brow. "well. he offered." (he battles the depraved urge to clasp his hand around the dainty column of your throat, to press his chest flush against the arch of your spine. to school you in the art of possession, of ownership, of instincts that slither through bone marrow, of urges that writhe beneath his skin like a sickness, ravenous and unrepentant.)

his jaw flexes lazily, tongue pressing heavy against the inside of his cheek. his restraint is a brittle thing, straining beneath the weight of something starved. something venomous. "'s that right?" his teeth flash pearly-white. "doin' a lot for you, isn't he?"

you whirl on your heels to face him, snaring his gaze in yours. your vexation rises, fiery and unmistakably overeager, but a viscous want accompanies it, swirling in the whites of your eyes. it grows bolder under his earthy stare, a mere captive to the deepening hunger stretching wordlessly between you. it lingers, needlessly persistent in its provocation—the constant standoff of shallow breaths and locked jaws, of tongues bitten raw and fists clenched around unfulfilled promises of restraint. his stare tumbles downward to the wicked curve of your mouth, and he swears he can taste the startled exhale of breath that leaves you. gotcha.

"ever heard of overstaying a welcome, sully?" your expression dissolves into schooled imperturbability.

his braids follow the movement of his head as it tilts, azure skin glimmering aquamarine in the lab's sterile lamplight. your eyes track the slow sway of each woven strand, the way the beads threaded into each end collide sharply in sync—hypnotic, deliberate. erotic, almost. "careful, doc. keep talkin' like that and i might just start thinkin' you don't like me very much."

"i don't," you respond swiftly, but a flicker of suspicion contracts his pupils. he doesn't believe you for a single damn second. (and you're so pretty when you lie, aren't you? pretty girl, so resistant to an orbit your body is meant to sustain. saliva coats his mouth. the things he thinks of doing to you are despicable. downright lewd, even. he thinks of folding you in half. he thinks of molding you to his pleasure until you can't tell his name from your own. he thinks of making you cry. and he should feel guilty. he should chain himself to contrition. but he doesn't. he never has. he never will.)

he leans in. grins in wolfish pride when your pulse skips one, two, four beats. "you're a good liar, pretty. gotta give you that."

you jerk forward instinctively when one of his hands slides to your stomach, forcing the arch of your spine to coalesce with the unforgiving edge of the table. the other dips under your coat, captivation evident in the way his palm stretches effortlessly around the fullness of your waist. it is nearly consumption, an unfurling desire hell-bent on catharsis. on bitter-blooded ecstasy. (it is only nature, he reminds himself. it is only his new body, adjusting to the unfamiliarity of want for an object he cannot have. cannot attain. he's not himself. he's not thinking straight.)

"jake." a tinge of nervousness colors the syllables of his name as your mouth parts around them. he drops onto his haunches just as you reach for him, eluding the desparity of your touch. your hand flexes in midair, barren. "what are you—"

"bet norm's thought about this." his voice is a rasp against your skin, curling warm in the crook of your neck. his nose brushes the tender slope of your pulse point as his words wash over it, savoring the frantic thrum of your heartbeat against his lips. "bet he's wonderin' what you feel like under all these—" a pause. intentional, drawn-out. with an arbitrary flick of his wrist, he slides your lab coat off your shoulders, his fingers ghosting across the expanse of bare skin he can see. "clothes."

"what the fuck are you talking about?" there is no bite to your bark, a weak imitation of pious resolve hovering in the air between you.

"y'don't think so?"

"jake, stop."

he heeds the urgency in your tone, leaning back on his heels. (he knows you're fighting it. fighting him. stubborn, sweet girl, ankles deep in quicksand. so damn eager to play the ethical upper hand. so devoutly attached to your cool-blooded composure. so resolute in slipping from his grasp. flighty. he grits his teeth. then again, he's always liked butterflies. they look so pretty on their backs.)

your shudder of breath betrays you. "this isn't—we can't."

his eyes narrow—watching, knowing. he can smell it on you, the quiet betrayal of your body, the want fused to the rhythm of your pulse. it pools in your gaze, a laceration bound by silence. his fingers trace idle patterns along your thigh, evocative of ink kissed into parchment. a silent mantra hums beneath his touch—mine, mine, mine. "don't you want it?"

"jake."

"it's a yes or no question, pretty."

"that's not fair." your lower lip juts outward, crowned by the swell of your trembling inhale. "you've don't even like me. and you're a pain in the ass. i'm not letting you take my clothes off just 'cause—"

"who says i don't like you, huh?" he presses his nose to your sternum, grinning viciously when you choke. "i like you tons, baby."

"you didn't let me finish. i'm not letting you take my clothes off just 'cause—"

"who says i was gonna take your clothes off?"

your fingers sink into his hair, curling along the sharp cut of his jaw, thumbs hooked around the curves of his ears. controlling, captivating. taking what is already yours. he is gold wrapped in skin, inescapably sweltering beneath your touch. liquid longing fills the void of cloying stillness, his gaze dragging lazily over your lips, your throat, the shell of your ear. your echoed stare is a live wire, leaping frantically from feature to feature. "you talk too much." the words ghost from your lips like silk. like a promise of calamity, of disaster.

his ears twitch, tracking the staggered cadence of your breath. "you keep lookin’ at me like that,” he drawls, smirk broadening, "and i’m gonna start thinkin’ you wanna do somethin’ about it."

and for once, you do.

you yank him forward, crushing your mouth to his with enough force to bruise. his answering groan reverberates down the channel of your throat as his teeth catch your lower lip, eyes eclipsed by the storm-black of his pupils. he does not hesitate to lay claim. does not hesitate to anchor your body against his, swallowing your startled yelp. it is animal, the festering in his chest. lust. it makes devils of good men. makes massacres of soldiers.

"'s this what you wanted? huh?" his hands palm the outline of your chest, marveling at the artificial ribcage his fingers provide. (he resists the urge to nip at the indentation of your collarbones, at the dainty bone lining the column of your throat). your hands scramble for his biceps when he slots an arm underneath your thighs and single-handedly places you on the counter. "yeah, y'did."

"shut up," you whimper, and oh, fuck, his teeth ache. there is no bite to your bark, a weak imitation of resolve hovering in the air between you. "j-just shut up."

"nah." jake stands as he slots a thigh between your legs, parting them around the intrusion. his mouth moves south to taste the damp skin of your pulse point, salty musk exploding on the base of his tongue as he sinks to his knees. (and he'd pray to you, if he could. would bring you trinkets at an altar made of gold. would stroke his cock right there, at the edge of your world and his, begging for you to touch him.) "i think y'like it when i talk." his nostrils flare. "can smell it on you."

the cotton of your shirt doesn't stand a chance; it tears like aged paper beneath his hands, splitting stitches merely rendered a casualty of his need. your entire body jolts, mouth poised in a soundless gasp as his name tumbles out of your mouth, caught in a dangerous balance of shock and rapture. his grin widens. "could fit all of you in 'ere," jake breathes in wonder, fingers unfurling against the expanse of your ribcage, cyan thumbs hooking under the padded fabric of your bra. "in my hands."

"god." the word rips from your throat, breathless, a prayer to something holy. something sacred. your head drops forward in surrender, forehead pressed against the sharp curve of his collarbone. his hands are everywhere—everywhere, everything, all at once—as the clasp of your bra gives way and his tongue draws forward to trace agonizingly slow circles against the side of your breast, just an inch from the growing tightness throbbing beneath your skin. "someone—someone could see us—"

"let 'em." it is sacrilegious, your little whimper, the way it escapes from the corner of your mouth. it instigates sin. calls upon forces beyond his better judgement, beyond plain, good common sense. beyond right and wrong. his fangs graze your nipple, and a harsh breath catches halfway up your throat, the hand in his hair tightening around his kuru {braid} instinctively. he chokes roughly, slicing through the silence with a drawling inhale. (careful, pretty.) a shameful blush paints your cheeks in mahogany as your hands trail downward, tracing the corner of his mouth with the pad of your thumb. (there is but a single strand of mangled control holding him together, and the second he snaps—).

all it takes is one, broad palm flat against your sternum for your shoulder blades to kiss the cold metal of the table underneath you. pinned. (trapped). he tears into you like scripture. devouring not with mercy, not with patience—but with reverence. with ecstasy. it is simply a testament to the ruinous want stitched into the carbon-fiber of his bones, a hunger that has kept him starving, aching, waiting. your breath stutters, wrecked and disparately shallow, slipping from your lips in uneven waves. (he has never wanted anything the way he wants you. has never even known he could want something this damn much. and yet here you are, in front of him, his pretty little girl—). you lift your hips obediently when his hands slip under your leggings, earning a low hum of approval as he tugs at the panties clinging wetly to your cunt, leaving both in a haphazard tangle around your ankles. his thumb presses into your pulse, feeling for frantic jump in your heartbeat.

"look at you," he drawls, tone akin to that of a drawn-out prayer. his entire frame shakes, an embodiment of fraying restraint. "so pretty f'r me. fuckin' wet, too."

you only realize he's dipped inside you when the tip of his middle finger brushes the silken, pulsating center of your core, a stretch so deep it borders on cruel. your entire body jolts as your mouth falls open in in a soundless cry, fingernails clawing uselessly at the table’s edge. his groan bleeds through your ribs, settling into the hollows like a symphony only your bones remember. en echo of something long buried. "jake. jake, oh, fuck—"

"that's my name, baby," he mutters, thumb smearing through your slick, cautious circles gathered methodically around the tingling bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. (your arousal smells like rain, like velvet rose, like a hazy memory of a garden at dawn gnawing at his fraying conscious.) "jesus fuck, can't even get two fingers in 'ere, pretty. how're you gonna take my cock like this, huh?" the sound that rips from your throat in response is nothing human. his fangs flash crystal, scissoring hand devastatingly carving out space to fit himself in between the thighs of a body not meant to hold him. a body not meant for his hands to touch. (but it would take divine intervention to stop him now. he is a hound, an animal spoiled rotten by the scent of flesh. your flesh.)

your hips jerk at the unexpected sight of his middle and ring finger sinking into his mouth, leaving your empty cunt clenching around nothing. your pupils blow wide as he hums against the sweetness of you on his tongue, swiping the muscle downward to catch the droplets of milky white lingering across his knuckles. (he finds himself wondering if your tears will taste as good as your cunt does). his name escapes your lips in a whisper, trailing gently over the softness of your skin. your pulse is a wreckage beneath his palm as his mouth crashes over yours once more, the prickling rhythm erratic against the rounded edge of your ribs.

then—he moves. presses his weight over you, drags his mouth down the line of your jaw, your throat, the shallow depression of your clavicle. "been thinkin' about this," he rasps as your hands flutter uselessly at your sides, scrambling for purchase against the line of his torso. he ruts his hips ever-so slightly forward, harshly reminded of the painful hardness throbbing under his tewng {loincloth}. "for so long. fuckin'—jerked off t'you. had a real nice dream, once."

your voice is unbearably soft, enslaved to single-minded pleasure. "you d-dream about me?"

jake's breath hitches, heat grazing the sweat-slick line of your throat. "yeah, baby. tons." his steady stare brushes yours, sapphire flush painting his freckles in a shade of liquid ivory. "gets worse after seein' you. can't sleep for days w' you patterin' around in 'ere." he raises a hand in a slow arc, fingers wandering along the tender line of his temple as the other works the strings of his tewng {loincloth} loose. it falls, forgotten, and—oh. oh. your lips part around a soundless gasp, any sense of decorum failing you. the sight of him eclipses language itself, glowing pre-cum slathering his length in a starry sheen, flushed tip carved from material far more primal than skin. than muscle, than bone. you swallow, pulse skipping, and his cocky-eyed grin only grows.

shameless, he nocks the dripping slit against the tender mess of your folds, coating himself in your slick with an unbidden groan. "wanna take samples? 's better than norm's, i promise."

"jake—oh my god." he swallows your exclamation as his mouth claims the expanse of yours, hands branding heat along your ribs, your waist, the soft, trembling flesh of his thighs. his fingers wrap around your hips and pull, the blunt, aching weight of him nudging at your entrance. you whimper, dizzy with desire. "g-go slow," you slur, clambering for his shoulders, arching your back in an effort to appease the burn pulsating under your skin. light explodes behind your closed eyelids as he slowly—slowly—sinks the first inch inside; you seize, lower stomach contracting around the foreign intrusion. the stretch sings through you, the thick head of his cock cradled between your legs, and yet jake forces himself still, a vein pulsing in his forehead.

"lemme in, c'mon, pretty," jake pants, exhaling roughly through his nose. his cock throbs restlessly inside you as instinct claws at his spine, shaking with the urge to chase the relief of being fully sheathed, of simply forcing you down the rest of the way. he grits his teeth when you mewl, glimmering tears clinging to your waterline.

"'s not gonna fit," you howl, and guilt lances through him. (that's what he does with pretty things, isn't it? he breaks them. it's in his nature, written in the code of his biological being. he can't help himself, he's so sorry, pretty girl—)

"fuck," he chokes, languish enshrining the syllables in agony. his tail wraps around your calf, soothing. easing. "fucking shit, i'm so sorry, pretty—"

"hurts more when you stay still," you whisper, eyelashes damp where they flutter against the heat of your cheeks, and jake's breath pans over your throat in a sinking shudder. your vision spotlights as his fingers pull upward, reaching between your parted lips to gather the saliva pooling at the corner of your mouth. he kisses the shell of your ear as he strokes your spit lazily over his length, whining lowly at the lewdly-wet squelch. "d'you hear that?" his voice is enthralled. "that's you and me, baby."

your gaze flickers skyward, unfocused and glassy. mindless. (always thinking, aren't you, baby? he's happy to help you turn it off, if you'd let him. happy to strip you down to something soft, something malleable in his grasp—something that belongs only to him. it’s only fair. it’s what you deserve). a dark chuckle rumbles from his chest, sharp with satisfaction. (yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?).

he gives you no warning before taking hold of your hips, molding your lower body in a high arch, and sinking the rest of the way in.

"jake—!" his name leaves you in a breathless sob, a prayer, a curse, a requiem. you're nearly catatonic, twitching like you’ve been electrocuted as you spasm beneath his hands, the girth of him infiltrating the marrow of your bones, the lining of your ribs, the edges of your lungs. the dull ache in your stomach intensifies as his hips rut up, your head smacking against the ground as his ridged cock rams lecherously into the spongy entrance of your cervix. jake punches out a strangled laugh as your stomach mounds obscenely (frighteningly, if he were being honest with himself) to accommodate the sheer size of his length, a shaky hand reaching forward to feel for himself underneath your layers of quivering muscle. you jolt with a sharp cry, feet kicking helplessly in midair as tears spill in shimmering rivulets down your flushed cheeks. “so-“ he cuts himself off when your cunt, unable to squeeze around the girth of him, flutters achingly. begging for release. "tight. knew you'd be so fuckin' tight—"

he doesn't wait. can't. his hips roll forward, dragging another devastatingly thick thrust through the vice-like grip of your cunt, the sensation of him rearranging you from the inside out. his hand slips between your thighs (greedy, insistent), feeling for the slick heat pooling there, brushing over the tender, swollen knot of your clit. he drinks your shaky squeal, chest rising and falling in rapid succession as he folds forward, tongue swiping across your upper row of teeth. "jake,” you sob, a wrecked little thing, hands fisting in his braids, grasping for something, anything. "'m gonna cum—oh god, i wanna c—please, can i, jake, please—"

"w'me," jake manages to hiss, tongue swirling patterns into the wounded skin of your clavicle. the blunt tip of his cock twitches as his thrusts shallow, a moan purred into the junction between your neck and shoulder. the tightness in his stomach ebbs as the wet slap of your pelvis against his reverberates in the air, a symphony of noise escaping your throat as he fills your womb in thick, unrelenting waves of searing warmth. you sob raggedly in relief, convulsing under the weight of his palms, cleaving lines of deepening crimson in his back. (pretty little thing. so good for him. you'd let him do this every night, wouldn't you? would let him bury himself to the hilt until he flooded your cunt with his seed, would let him turn your pristine skin a splotchy, bruised shade of fuchsia.)

he thinks with his teeth, lovely girl, and you've got such a pretty neck.

note: WOW WHY DID THIS TAKE ME FOREVER?! i was so smut-stumped for whatever reason, so i apologize for the rushed ending and for the fact that i forgot to include jake taking sips of CO2 while he was in an oxygenated lab LOL (the stem girl in me is screaming at them having sex IN THE LAB). this one's for @pandoraslxna!! love always from lani!!