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vinnyvamppp · 2 months ago

Text

Grind Me Into Memory

Synopsis: You find yourself bonded to both Jake and Neytiri. As time went on, even the simplest aspects of your personality began to captivate him. It felt wrong, like a transgression against his morals. Yet, you remained there, so... prettily and he came to yearn you just as you did him.

Jake Sully/Tsyeyk te Suli x F!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Inter-femoral sex (thigh fucking), hickeys, implied feelings of cheating (not really), porn w backstory, rough sex, DILF! (His locs and dad bod in movie two 🙂‍↕️), slightly more mature Jake, plot changes for convenience, Switch!Jake, Switch!Reader, Both are Omatikaya, and suggests that reader is also in love with Neytiri (in progress + 3some)

Word Count: 5.3k (over 3k is smut)

Amid the bioluminescent splendor of Pandora’s mystical forest, the air hummed with unseen energy, and the flora pulsed with an ancient, glowing rhythm. Its glow was a valiant painting of night in hues of violet, azure, and rose.

Beneath the embrace of an enormous luminescent tree—its roots twisting like veins of liquid light—you and Jake sat nestled within its radiant sanctuary. Plush moss cradled you both like a mother’s swaddle. Expressions flushed with the humid warmth of mingled breath and the musk of sex overwhelmed your senses.

Ethereal spores drifted like whispered secrets, while the distant calls of creatures echoed through the iridescent canopy. With an aching mind and body, your figures were drawn like magnets. The very sight of him sparked an unfamiliar, animalistic urge that set your skin alight.

Clumsily, he reached for you and—

….

Being one of Pandora’s many hunters, you were a warrior for the Omatikaya Na’vi. The clans were civil amongst one another; a common enemy made its reappearance when peace drew near. Sky people. You were fierce, wielding courage as if it were a blade. Being devoted was an understatement, and like many, you worshiped the very ground you walked on. Then fate, ever cruel, offered you a gift wrapped in misfortune. Amidst the chaos of battle, you and your olo’eyktan—Jake Sully—collided. Your body seized with an erotic flux that blundered against the adrenaline thundering in your veins. It was unpredictable. Unprecedented. Unsure of how it occurred, your queue linked. In a dazed panic, you both frantically retreated with a painful untethering of the nerve. The connection was made, and it was too late. You were his second mate now, sharing a partial bond.

The Na’vi were monogamous by nature. This twisted truth fractured everything. Neytiri’s gaze became sharper than any blade. Her eyes, full of mistrust, carved pain into your chest. Finding yourself unwelcome, you isolated yourself in anger, and the days drew near. Days soon became weeks, and sunlight pierced the storm. Jake—conflicted, worn—still found comfort in your presence. The bond that tied the three of you tugged invisibly, a low thrumming in your chest. The bond, now connecting the three of you, left an invisible pull towards them both. Finding ways to reconcile, you would sleep near the couple's snonivi and hunt fish/craft bows as an offering. It was masochistic with every hiss Neytiri cast in your direction when you wouldn't relent. A lingering gaze once tepid became tinted with reluctant fondness. In Jake, you found solace. In your heart, the battle slowly turned in your favor.

… The first touches were chaste—gentle hand-holding under the guise of avùn gathering. The humid air kissed your skin while his palm’s warmth bled into your limbs. His grip was firm, careful. Playful. Fragile.

Traveling through the thick brushes of foliage, the sound of a rushing stream caught your attention. Blades of grass tickled the soles of their feet, and the sound of nature mingled amongst their footsteps. You knelt, gathering yovo fruit—scaly, purple, small enough to gather by the handful. As you worked, your gaze drifted—unbidden—along the contours of his back. His hair, long and silken, cast shadows that accentuated hard muscle. His curious golden eyes landed on you, a memory dawning in your present view.

That memory—early morning. You and Jake hunted for Neytiri, one of many peace offerings. He, always your anchor, kept you in sight. As you firmly secured the handcrafted bow to your torso, your eyes flickered up to meet his groggy ones. Strapping your bow across your chest, you looked up—and found his gaze already on you. Observing. Admiring. The elegance of your stance. The flick of your ears. Your tail trailing behind like wind-washed thread.

With a deep breath, he stood, wiping the drowsiness from his eyes. “How did you sleep? Tell me when you’re ready. I want to find food before the first meal.” Your voice cut through his tranquil solitude. “I slept well enough,” he replied, scrambling to grab and secure his bow with a reassuring nod.

Traveling down the winding roots of the newly formed Home Tree, your feet briskly carried you forward, causing Jake to saunter in a full sprint. The chase was short-lived; nonetheless, your heart thumped violently in your chest. Sweat glistened on your skin, allowing you to tread through vines that threatened to grasp you. With every drop to a new forest floor, a call of pure glee in your element echoed from the depths within. The feel of his eyes boring into your skin made your hair stand on end, he joined, his voice intertwined with yours.

Coming to a slowed halt, your eyes caught wind of migrating viper wolves. Two stragglers, abandoned or unruly, moved ahead without their pack. His ears perked up in anticipation; the looming trees created a natural barricade. Pulling the bow from his back, his eyes focused on the delayed sound of paws. There was a palpable moment of silence. With a swift movement, he aimed his bow, and his arrow shot in its trajectory. A shrill yelp echoed, and the second went flying. An impressed glint lingered in your eye; you should’ve expected no less given his reputation. You didn’t hesitate—your arrow followed his, clean and quiet. "Damn…” He whispered.

Waiting it out, you two emerged, taking your knives to end the animal's suffering with a prayer. With a delighted expression, you planned to create ornaments for Neytiri using its hide. Alone at last. You exhaled, unaware you’d been holding your breath. You thanked him. “Thanks…” He said, his pride inflated upon hearing your praise. “You were solid out there.” he replied, proud. Quietly smug.

You both emerged to end the hunt with swift blades and a prayer. You smiled at your plan to turn the hide into ornaments for Neytiri—another olive branch. As you wandered back, you urged him on. Your thoughts drifted to the chaos of your triad. Jake, juggling two mates, remained composed. You were about to test just how composed. “I forgive you,” you said, glancing sideways. He’d missed your rendezvous the night before. His ears perked. A cocky smile broke across his face. He trailed behind, infatuated.

“So… who were you, before?” you asked, curious despite yourself. He was known, respectively, though you had done little to find out more about him. You climbed a thick branch, reaching to help him—but he pulled up beside you unaided. He seemed somewhat struck by the gesture. “Life was different,” he said. “I was a Marine. A human warrior.” It almost sounded like gloating. “Sorry for trying to help,” you shot back, pacing ahead.

“That explains the extra muscle,” you added, barely hiding the fact you’d stared. Often. If that didn’t inflate his already bolstering smugness, I don’t know what will. “Yeah. Comes with the job," he rasped, tongue jutting out to wet his lips. His words faded as embarrassment shook your bones.

Back in the now, you offered him yovo fruit. “Thanks." He plucked one gently, savoring its tart sweetness. Hands met again. You walked the riverbank. Your tail swirled in the water, flicking droplets against his back. You made a dash only to realize his finger's grip tightened. With an amused and disbelieving sigh, he commented. “Oh no you don’t,” The last thing you see is water exploding in a splash, laughter echoing—until his eyes drop to your soaked feather necklace. The damp feathers clung to your chest.

PROPER NAME, PLACE NAME, BACKSTORY STUFF. SUGGESTIVE CONTENT STARTS HERE, BOOKIE.

The second instance was at night, after ti-yom. Jake had suggested you spend time alone, sensing the tension that lingered between glances. You’d pulled him aside, no longer able to dance around the need clawing at your insides. In the solitude of the carved huts, your voice came hurried, breathless.

“That day we mated was pure adrenaline. I couldn’t tell the difference between battle and tsaheylu,” you said, eyes searching his. A pause. Then softly: “I want to go to the Tree of Voices… to experience it properly. What’s happened can’t be undone.”

It was the most pressing truth you’d spoken. The most selfish desire you’d allowed. His gaze locked with yours, eyes widening—surprised, but not alarmed. Recognition flickered in his expression. He nodded, silent. For the first time in a long while, he seemed… still. The quiet stretched too long.

“We don’t have to. I’m content with what we have now,” you added quickly—lying. You weren’t content. You wanted it all. You wanted him.

When your panic rose unbidden, he noticed. His fingers wrapped gently around your forearm. “Hey, hey—easy…” he murmured, grounding you. His hand moved up, cupping your cheek with familiar warmth. “Wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. I’ve wanted it too. You’re not crazy.”

But it was crazy. Even if his body said otherwise. Even if the memory of him and Neytiri still lingered behind his eyes.

With a quiet nod, you thanked him, and he turned, leading you into the jungle. The weight of what was about to happen stirred your blood, your nerves thrumming with anticipation. You followed in heavy steps, every movement charged. There was no playfulness now, only gravity.

The elders spoke of tsaheylu with a mate as a sacred thing—a spiritual communion, an erotic transcendence. It was a merging of souls and sinew. It was to know your partner’s essence.

As you reached the Tree of Voices, its glowing tendrils swaying in the gentle breeze, he slowed. His gaze lingered on your form as you brushed past him. The way you moved—it pulled something primal from within.

“Are you sure?” you asked, offering him an out. “I’m sure… I want this,” he replied, voice rough at the edges. There was a rasp in it—like desire and certainty had tangled.

His calloused palms framed your face. Your foreheads touched. If he saw the way his eyes darkened, he didn’t speak on it.

With reverence, you both knelt.

You pulled the braid forward, fingers trembling, your queue seeking his. His form—taller, broader—hovered slightly above you. When his tendrils met yours, the connection surged like lightning.

Your fingers trembled, stilled only by his urgent grip. Your hearts synced—beats echoing like drums in your chests. The bond formed in a flash, overwhelming. Saliva gathered in your mouth. A soft gasp escaped him.

Then that feeling returned.

Your limbs twitched involuntarily, overcome by the raw intensity of the connection. It felt like floating, drowning, flying—your mind unable to separate pain from pleasure. You cupped his cheeks, gasping sharply. There was no air, yet you were filled with something sacred. Unable to withhold the sound, a broken moan, unlike any pitch you had heard before, exited you. Your body jerked as if seeking his warmth; the pleasant tingles filled your senses.

The sound drew a crooked grin from his lips. His skin prickled at the sound of you—your moans a melody he’d never heard, and now couldn’t live without. The way your body responded nearly entranced him.

His hips shifted closer. Your pelvis lifted instinctively, your navel brushing his mouth. He underestimated his strength—fingers digging into your hips harder than intended. But instead of pain, it earned a sinful moan from deep within you. Your fingers cradled his head against you as you lurched forward. Nothing seemed to calm, rather intensifying. The close-lipped groans became useless, and the lights surrounding you grew blinding.

Through labored breaths, he groaned and growled; the feeling of your heart pounding shook his ears. A shiver ran down his spine as this felt like the orgasm of the century. His mind and senses were utterly consumed by you. The sound of ragged gasps grew louder, his hips bucking upwards involuntarily. His cock pressed firmly against the material of his tewng, a dribble of precum staining the front. It was greedy. It was intimate. It was everything.

“Jake... Jake... Jake...” you chanted his name like prayer, your nails dragging through his scalp. His chest vibrated with another growl, arms wrapping around you tighter. They trembled—slightly, but unmistakably. “I got you,” he whispered against your skin. It was a promise and a plea.

He was nearly ready to risk it all; the Na’vi were extremely fertile. You would look beautiful, swollen with his seed, or even just his cock alone. His stamina and libido in this body left it so he could indulge to his heart's desire. Specifically, a new desire to explore the pussy in front of him, to have it clench around his digits with coats of your arousal. He nearly melted imagining it. However, there was hesitation, and the minutes grew longer. You stared down at him, and his eyes found yours with a cocky grin; just before you could lean down for a kiss, the queue disconnected. The interruptions left you two in a breathless heap. His hunger, like yours, had been too much. You’d pulled the plug, even as your bodies screamed to stay joined.

As you bathed in the afterglow, wrapped in each other’s breath and silence, one question echoed between you:

Could Neytiri feel the bond growing stronger?

“Didn’t think it’d hit that hard. Sorry.” His cheeky grin spelled liar.

SMUT BEGINS HERE.

As the sun migrated westward, the moon began to claim the sky. Dusk draped Pandora in velvet blue. The hour moved fast, drawn by something unspoken.

You approached the familiar weeping tree, your fingers curling into the sturdy bark as you climbed its elegant height. Settling into its foliage-covered heart, the moss beneath you tickled your feet, a gentle swaddle from Eywa herself. You slipped your bow sling from your shoulders, laying it beside you. Cross-legged, you placed the small log drum in your lap.

A hush fell over the clearing. The soft bioluminescence wove through the branches, illuminating the weeping tree in a gentle, reverent glow. Its light danced in your eyes, and as your breath steadied, you felt the Tree listening. Then—rustling. A shadow slipped through the underbrush.

Jake.

He stepped from the foliage like the forest had parted just for him. The space shifted subtly around his presence—calmer, warmer, charged. He moved with the instinctual grace of a seasoned tsamsiyu, muscles flexing beneath dusky blue skin. His midsection, once hardened by combat, now held the softness of peace. The traditional tewng hung low on his hips. Moonlight filtered through the leaves, catching in the dark waterfall of his hair.

He joined you easily, sliding into a seat beside you. A soft smile tugged at his lips—tired, but real.

His eyes traced the soft arcs of your figure, the way your presence seemed to cradle the space around you.

Your fingers moved over the drum’s surface with practiced tenderness. A rhythm bloomed—quiet, like the heartbeat of the tree itself. It echoed between you both, the sound folding into the evening air. His gaze landed on the drum nestled between your legs.

“You came,” you whispered, voice small. “I waited all day for you.” The second part carried a playful tilt, but your eyes gave you away. Jake chuckled under his breath, tail swishing lazily along the mossy tree limb. “All day? Really?” He gives a lazy grin, tail flicking. “Didn’t think you’d say that out loud.”

Simple words. Unpretentious. But they struck deep, in a not-so-subtle way, he reciprocated that he had been anticipating your presence. His head nodded toward the instrument. “What’s with the drum?”

His eyes made you feel seen in a way that unsettled and soothed all at once. In their reflection, you caught a glimpse of yourself—glistening jewelry braided against your skin, hair loosely styled with strands framing your face, lips curled into a gentle smile. You were softer than most Omatikaya, but strong in the way stone yields to water.

“There will be a festival soon,” you answered softly. “The child… can have this.”

Right. Neytiri had given birth. Their firstborn now nestled in the woven roots of your shared world. You spoke the truth with grace, even as a ripple passed through your chest. Jake’s gaze lingered—not in lust, but admiration. His eyes traced the soft arcs of your figure, the way your presence seemed to cradle the space around you. The carefully woven jewelry plated against your skin and the soft curve of your lips.

Your fingers moved over the drum’s surface with practiced tenderness. A rhythm bloomed—quiet, like the heartbeat of the tree itself. It echoed between you both, the sound folding into the evening air. “I made it before training,” you added. “Did you and Neytiri enjoy the day? You two seemed… occupied.”

Your tone was light, but your hands didn’t stop moving. “She’s been keeping me on my toes.” He replied, a slight smirk forming. Though unintentional, you spat a little jealousy.

Your eyes narrowed slightly in response. “And what about you?” You said curtly, your head turning to face him. “You ask me to get along with your family, yet you’re distant. You only meet me at night; what am I? A special mistress.” It was sarcastic… sort of. He smirked with a chuckle that dripped in amusement. “A special mistress?” He pretended to ponder before feigning a hurt expression. Placing a hand over his chest, he mocked painfully, “I’m hurt, truly. I thought our little trysts in the night were our secret.”

“It would be if you weren’t always caught.” Your eyes rolled at his display of dramatics, a chortle of your own escaping you. “I’m starting to think you don’t want me.” The words left before you could grasp them. “What makes you think I don’t want you?” The question itself made your ears prick in delight. Whacking him gently upside the head with your tail, you scoffed. “Don’t play with my feelings, Sully—“

“You know it’s more than wanting.” He said, reflexively soothing his scalp.

You were turned away from him, stalling your movements.

“Then what is it?”

The quiet sound of shuffling grew closer. His movements were slow but deliberate as his warmth radiated against your back mere centimeters away. His head is craning over your shoulder to look into your eyes, “You know exactly what it is.” A brief silence overwhelmed us. “Do I?” You replied inconspicuously. A touch, a kiss, a handhold—you craved it all shamelessly. “You’ll have to show me by giving me a taste.” It was a promiscuity you had yet to indulge in, but you couldn’t resist. His breath tickled the nape of your neck. “I can do that…” His voice dropping an octave, the rasp ringing in your ears. His fingers confidently found your hips, pulling you between his knees so your ass rests just above his pelvis. “And more.” You could feel his grin against your neck.

The hair on your skin stood at attention, frazzled by the lustful frenzy you hurtled towards. With the slightest nod, he began his assault, tracing gentle kisses down your neck. His face nuzzled into the crook of it as he inhaled your scent like it was his lifeline. The gentle scraping of his calloused fingertips traveled up your abdomen and was both comforting and alluring. “Is this what you want?” He murmured, his lips still pressing reverently against your skin. “Do you?” You whispered as a gentle buzz racked your brain. With a hearty sigh, his fingers trekked higher, teasing the buds of your nipples. “Hell yeah,” it was a hoarse and restrained voice, “I want you in every way possible.” As he spoke, the saliva against your neck chilled as it darted across your skin.

His cock was being smothered between you. Poor thing. At the scent of your arousal pooling around your core, his fingers traveled between your thighs—close, but never quite there. The teasing only encouraged the heartbeat resonating between your legs to clench around nothing.

“Careful,” he hissed. It was a warning—his voice betraying his eagerness. “You’re playin’ with me, baby.” His words made you turn your head, unabashedly staring at his lips.

“Then join me.” Your response made his eyelids droop, lust barely held at bay. His fingers dragged down the length of your inner thighs, sending a shiver through your frame. “As you wish,” he purred, tilting your chin up until his lips ghosted over yours. “You have no fuckin’ idea what you do to me.”

He sealed his mouth over yours before you could respond. The heat building between you reached its crescendo with a searing kiss. He groaned in reply, hungry and low. The kiss turned deeper—still chaste, but desperate. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking access. The need to taste you—to know you—was overwhelming.

With a soft suction, you pulled away momentarily, nipping at his bottom lip before returning. The hand on your thigh tightened in response, his tongue exploring every inch it could reach. Its texture was rough—your cat-like tongues scraping in a way that sent shocks through you both. His kiss stole the breath from your lungs. His fingers now rested firm against your hips.

Every sigh, moan, and whimper exchanged made his claim on you stronger. His pelvis began to grind instinctively against the swell of your ass. The rhythm—fluid and quiet—matched each subtle roll of his hips. His lips drifted down your neck, then turned into teeth. Purple bruises bloomed like petals with each bite.

You weren’t sure if it was the bond, but his pleasure felt like your own. A soft purr slipped from your saliva-slicked lips, followed by faint mewls.

His hands guided your pace—gentle but intentional. Praise hummed between you in low murmurs, encouraging the motion. Suddenly, one finger ran a stripe down the front of your soaked, clothed pussy. A restrained groan escaped him as he began to circle your clit slowly.

The sound was quiet, but to him? Mouthwatering. Your scent flooded his nose just as you caught his lips again. A silent claim. His kiss asked for something he couldn’t say aloud.

“Fuck… I’ve imagined this moment,” he growled against your back. “Over and over.” His hips pressed forward, punctuating the truth of his words. “Well… I’m yours now,” you whispered. “Say that again,” he breathed. His signature toothy grin appeared as he peered over your shoulder, ears twitching with pride. “I’m yours until we return to Eywa.” This time, you meant it.

His fingers left you to untie the tawng that blocked his path from that sweet cunt. It slid down, pooling around the thick muscle of his thighs. A guttural moan rumbled from his chest before he pressed a kiss against your nape.

“Show me,” he said, breathless. “Show me how much you need me.” Then—something shifted. His demanding tone faltered. “Please.” The word was low. Honest.

With shaking hands, you loosened your own tawng, reaching back to guide him between your slick folds. You slid yourself along his length, letting your wetness coat him. You clenched your thighs around his shaft, teasing. He was out of view, but the weight of him was heavy, his pubes brushing your skin.

Pearls of precum beaded at his tip, slipping down your thighs. Your fingers planted themselves on his quads, tension thick between you. The sensation was intoxicating—intimate and maddeningly insufficient. He wanted to be inside you, but his wife waiting back home… wouldn’t appreciate that.

His hips slid back—thwop. You both groaned. His dick stroked your clit with every thrust, its head kissing your hole with precision. “Jesus…” he exhaled. “You’re killin’ me.”

His face didn’t match his words—it was already blissed out. “I want you. All of you,” he admitted, locking eyes with you. Your bodies collided, wet and sweet, every movement knocking the air from your lungs.

A whine broke from your throat. “Don’t be foolish. Stop complicating things.” You groaned. He answered with a breathy chuckle. “Can’t promise I’ll be careful.” He leaned back slightly, admiring the sight of you. “You’ve got me crazed.”

His face was flushed, eyes glassy with lust, pupils blown wide. He still fared better than you. Your hair clung to your temples, eyes lidded with want, your jewelry and loincloth skewed and forgotten. Anticipation throbbed through you. “Give it to me,” you demanded.

And just like that, his restraint broke. “You want it, baby?” he rasped. “Then take it. So d-damn good…” Jake’s hips snapped forward, faster, harder. Urgency overtook him. The feel of your body—your voice—your boldness—only made him burn hotter.

His grip on your hips tightened, bruises forming beneath his fingers. His rhythm pounded against your clit, each stroke building the tension to a breaking point. A shudder passed through you, your toes curling. Your fingertips clawed his thighs, crescent marks deepening as you struggled to hold yourself together. Watching the tip of his cock disappear and reappear, slick with both your arousals, made your vision blur.

You were both close. “You’re close, huh?” he asked, voice fraying as he kissed your shoulder. He smiled, gentle this time. “I can feel it.”

You couldn’t speak—just nodded, your mouth barely forming words.“I’m not finishing until you do,” you managed, shaky and wrecked. He grunted in reply, his body taut as he struggled to hold out. Everything about you—your scent, your voice, your movement—could’ve made him finish minutes ago.

The slap of skin echoed. He murmured low: “Not sure you deserve it.” A pause. Then softer— “But I’m gonna give it to you anyway.” He had little restraint when it came to you.

The sensations were dizzying. His words made you laugh, breathless and teasing. His arms pulled you tighter, hands braced against your shoulders. “So cocky,” you mumbled, your heart syncing to his. That familiar tightness began to stir, deep in both your cores. His hips pistoned forward, your body lurching forward with each bounce. Ears twitched as it received every moan, and you two responded pornographically.

“You talk too much,” you whispered. “Quiet.”

Wet squelches filled the air, his precum coating your inner thighs. His scent overwhelmed your every sense. Your tail wrapped tightly around his waist, possessive. The gesture made the veins in his cock twitch harder against your heat. He fell mostly silent. Profanities broke loose in between gritted teeth and groans.

“Shit… haa—mn, just for a little while,” he muttered, hips bucking into you. “But I’ll make you moan just the same.” It wasn’t the response you wanted—your head dropped against his shoulder, jaw slack and trembling.

A faint whimper left him as his tip pushed just barely inside, the bulging head catching around the ring of muscle with a satisfying pop. Both of you are aching for more. His cock wept, as did you.“I know how much you want it,” you teased, voice thin. “So put that mouth to good use. Make some noise.” You yelped as your clit throbbed violently from overstimulation.

“You know I feel good,” he growled, “but you’ve got me beat for makin’ noise.” His mouth returned to your neck, where he released a low, guttural sound. “You’re a damn minx,” he murmured, mouth hot on your lips. “But I love that shit.”

He kissed you—sloppy, deep. “Since you asked nicely... I’ll give you what you want.”

There was no time to answer. His teeth found the shell of your pierced ear. Then—he began to sing. Just like you asked. He wasn’t much of a moaner. But god… his groans? His breathy grunts? They sent butterflies spiraling in your belly. He breathed hard against you, rhythm slowing.

You pulled away, your eyes meeting his—ears twitching with every moan. Your faces contorted with lust. Shaking breaths became sputtering cries. Your breasts ached from bouncing, your legs tensed in effort to draw out the inevitable. You used him for leverage, shifting to meet him.

Both of you, breaking. “Gonna cum,” he gasped, voice strained. “Give it to me, baby. C’mon—please cum on me. Please...!” He was right there. You groaned, words lost to the rising wave.

Your final moan was silent.

“I… I need to—nnggh...” His voice cracked. His hips stuttered. The wet sound of you sucking him in pushed him over.

With a hiss, he cried out—feral. Climax ripped through him. Harsh gasps tore from his throat as his head fell back. He held you flush against him, grinding you greedily through the end as ropes of cum coated your thighs.

His fingers left you and instead loosened the tawng that obstructed him from that sweet cunt. As the knot was untied, it pooled around the thick muscle of his thighs. A guttural moan rumbled in his chest before he pressed a kiss against your nape. “Show me,” he commanded. “Show me how much you need me.” There was a sultry gaze exchanged before his demanding demeanor broke. “Please.” He whispered in a low, pleading voice. With quivering hands, your fingers loosened your own tawng; your fingers reached back, guiding his cock between the wet warmth of your folds. Gliding yourself along its length, his dick glistened in your juices before you clenched your thighs shut. Though out of view, the weight of it was heavy, and the faint prick of pubes tickled your flesh. Pearls of precum beaded at the tip, slipping down your thighs.

Your fingers planted themselves on his quads, a fierce tension settling between you two. The sensation was tantalizing. Intensely intimate, yet maddeningly insufficient. He wanted to be buried inside of you, but his wife waiting back at home wouldn’t appreciate that. Sliding his hips back, with a loud thwop, you both groaned in unison. His dick stimulated your clit with each thrust, and its tip caught your greedy hole, kissing it each time. “Jesus…” he huffed out, exasperated. “You’re killin’ me.” His expression contradicted his words as a fucked-out expression settled. “I want you, all of you.” His eyes found yours with a knowing glance. Your body jostled against his; wet bodies collided sweetly as every pommel knocked the wind out of you.

A whine ripped from your throat before you groaned, “Don’t be foolish; stop complicating things.” You muttered, his response beginning with a breathy heckle. “I can’t promise I’ll be careful.” He leaned back to admire the view in front of him. “You’ve got me crazed.” His face was flushed, eyes glittering with fervor and dilated pupils. His appearance fared better than yours. The heat caused loose strands of hair to hang in your vision, your eyes lidded with lust, your jewelry and loincloth were left askew, and anticipation rushed through you. “Give it to me.” You demanded, and his resistance crumbled with an intensity that mirrored yours. “You want it, baby?” He asked in a strained voice, “Then take it. So d-damn good.” Jake’s hips snapped forward faster, with a stronger rhythm. Purely driven by the need and urgency of your words. The feel of your body and your sternness only fed him like resin to a flame. His grip on your hips tightened enough to leave bruises, his desperation consuming what more he had to say.

His pace rubbed that bundle of nerves with vigor. A pleasant tingle shot through you as you lurched forward, your toes curling. Your fingertips dug into the flesh of his thighs, crescent indents from your nails remaining. Watching the tip of his dick appear and disappear covered in more slick and cum with each thrust felt transcendent. You both were approaching your climax, his voice breaking the silence. “You’re close, aren’t you?” He asked through bated breaths, pressing a kiss into your shoulder; he smiled. “I can feel it,” You couldn’t respond, merely nodding before choking out a somewhat coherent sentence. “I’m not finishing until you do.” Your words faltered as he grunted, his body taut with the effort to hold himself together. Everything about you could’ve made him cum long ago if it weren’t for his stubbornness. The wet sound of skin made him murmur with satisfaction. “I’m not sure you deserve it.” He sputtered, barely finishing the sentence. His smirk grew placid as he continued. “But I’m gonna give it to you anyway.”

The sensations nearly made you both dumb, his words causing a borderline condescending chuckle to leave you. His arms anchored you to him, his hands planted against your shoulders. “So cocky.” You muttered as your heartbeats began to sync. A familiar tightening began in your cores. “You talk too much. Quiet.” The words fell between the wet squelches filling the air; the amount of precum he produced was mouthwatering. His very scent overwhelmed your senses. Your tail wrapped around his waist possessively. The action itself made the throbbing veins of his dick throb against your heat.

He was mostly quiet, just briefly. Profanities split between grunts as his eyes screwed shut in bliss. “Shit, haaa…! Mn, just for a little while.” His words are more like a challenge, his hips bucking upwards to punctuate his point home. “But I’ll make you moan just the same.” That wasn’t the response you hoped for; your head flopped against his shoulder as your jaw went slack. The faintest whimper left him as his tip just barely entered your warmth. Its width begged to stretch that pussy out, and both of your genitalia wept for one another. “I know how much you want it, so put that mouth to good use and make some noise.” It was your attempt at putting him in his place, only to yelp at your clit now throbbing from overstimulation.

“You know I feel good, but you seem to have me beat for making noise.” His lips found purchase against your neck once more, but not before a guttural sound rumbled in his throat. He knew you were playing with him, and he welcomed it. “You’re a minx, but I love that shit,” he muttered before placing a sloppy kiss against your lips. “Since you asked nicely, I’ll give you what you want.” He didn’t bother giving you time to respond; his teeth began to nip at the sensitive shell of your pierced ears. He began to sing, just as you wanted him to. He wasn’t much of a moaner, but god… His groans and grunts were enough to send butterflies welling up inside you. The sounds were deep, and he breathed heavily against you, his hips slowly faltering.

Pulling away from your ear, you two stared at one another. Ears twitching as it received each moan, and you two responded pornographically. Your face contorted with lust, shaking breaths grew into sputtering moans, your body writhed as your breasts grew sore from bouncing on him, and your legs tensed with effort to prolong the experience. Using him as leverage, you shifted yourself back to meet him. Both of your vocal cords went raw as he spoke. “Gonna cum,” he warned with a thick swallow. “Give it to me, baby. C’mon, please cum on me. Please…!” He couldn’t hold out much longer; you only managed to groan in response as your movements stiffened. Your head suddenly felt light as the impending orgasm wracked your brain. The final moan was silent. “I… I need to—… nnggh.” He mumbled barely coherently as his thrusts grew erratic, the wet squelching on your pussy like music to his ears. With a sudden primal hiss, he cried out as his climax smacked him. A flurry of harsh gasps erupted from his throat. His head fell back as he greedily guided you against him, his cum coating your thighs.

“Tsal oel,” you murmured, a soft compliment.

Jake let out a breathy chuckle in response. He didn’t need words—his expression said enough. Mischief danced in his eyes, already plotting against you in ways you wouldn’t expect, though your comfort remained his priority.

With his usual aftercare, he pulled you close, holding you against his chest as your breathing slowed. Your fingers reached for a soft, fuzzy leaf from the tree nearby, using it to begin cleaning yourself. Concern flickered across his features.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

His gaze lingered on the marks left on your skin, the scent of sex still clinging to your body like a second skin. The fluids smeared across the leaves carried a sweet, salty tang. Curiosity took you, and your fingers dipped into it, tasting the familiar essence without thinking.

“We should make more soon,” you murmured, turning to face him.

He was already staring.

Back to the beginning.

MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

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ierofrnkk · 2 months ago

Text

Poe Dameron x Na’vi reader [2]

summary: Poe is brought in front of the Olo’eyktan, and his place among the People is decided (1.7k)

content: all ages, Poe POV, Poe is a nervous wreck and takes his clothes off, fem na’vi reader, not beta read, egregious use of italics

a/n: chapter two! excuse the butchery of the Avatar lore but it’s my fic, I make the rules. Eytukan definitely wants to see Poe mount an ikran and get his shit wrecked.

The central area of the massive tree was brightly lit with a large fire that seemed miraculously well-contained, given its location. It was both welcoming and intimidating.

Poe, for the first time in his life, felt alien, like he truly didn’t belong here.

Usually, he was able to find a niche for himself, settling in wherever he can fit, but he can’t find that here.

The grip on his arm is tight, and by the minute, Poe finds himself more and more intimidated and tense in the presence of these humanoids. He feels like an experiment, like a complete outcast—and right now? He is.

He’s half their height, with a completely different complexion and set of features than they have.

One of them steps forward, sizing Poe up as he greets his current captor. This has to be the Olo-whatever that they mentioned; he looks important, wearing a large, feathered shawl, with accents of what have to be bones—or the teeth of some massive animal.

Poe watches as his captor and the Olo’eyktan discuss something in their language, feeling a total sense of isolation and nerves as he tries to parse the conversation based on tones and facial expressions alone.

Eventually, he can’t wait for an answer.

“Can you tell me what the hell’s going on?” He calls out suddenly, the grip on his arm tightening briefly at his outburst.

“What are you called?” The Olo’eyktan asks, looking down at Poe with barely-hidden disgust.

It takes Poe a second and a half to register what he’s being asked, his brain going offline for a moment before coming back and allowing him to give an answer.

“Uh P-Poe. Poe Dameron.”

The Olo’eyktan nods in acknowledgment, looking back up to regard the one who still has a strong grip on Poe’s arm, asking her something that Poe wishes he was able to understand.

“And what do you do, Poe Dameron?” He’s asked, the sound of his own name sounding foreign to him.

When he hears the question, Poe’s immediately forgotten everything he’s ever done, ever. The usually confident and headstrong man faltering with even the simplest questions, feeling so out of his element that it’s almost funny.

“I, uh—“ he stutters, struggling with his words.

“Pilot, I’m a- I’m a pilot. I, uh—I fly.”

The man laughs, and so does the one holding his arm. It’s unsettling, but Poe laughs along too, nervously.

“What the hell is going on,” he laughs under his breath, his tone low enough that they can’t hear him.

His captor, apparently, had heard Poe, and leans down to quickly inform him.

“That is Eytukan. He is deciding what to do with you.”

That was incredibly unhelpful, Poe thinks, but he nods hurriedly, chuckling nervously to keep spirits up.

Eytukan looks down at Poe, expression something akin to a sneer, and speaks again.

“You say you can fly,” he starts, amusement rich in his voice.

“We have never heard of a taronyu Skyperson before. We will have to see how true these statements are..”

Poe, having zero clue what’s happening or what he’s talking about, nods again in agreement, seeming to accept this challenge that’s been brought upon him.

“Y-yeah,” he manages, voice unsteady. “I can fly anything.”

“Kehe,” she scolds immediately, her grip once again briefly tightening on Poe’s arm. He doesn’t know what that means, but he assumes it’s something along the lines of “shut up”, which he usually has a very hard time doing.

This time, though, he listens, his mouth clamping shut to prevent him from saying another word.

Another bout of laughter; they seem to all find him pretty amusing, and Poe will take that any day over hostility and anger.

Poe is deeply out of his element here, but at least he seems to be looking a bit more favorable now. Favorable is good, he can work with that.

The interaction goes on for much longer than Poe would’ve liked it to, with all of it now being spoken in a language even he can’t understand.

Minutes pass before Eytukan is speaking to Poe again, cluing him in as to what exactly is happening here.

The gist of it, from what Poe understands, is that:

A: He's stranded here, which is true.

B: They’ve never seen a…. Something, like him before. A pilot? A…taronyu? Whatever that is.

And C: They’re going to keep him here, like a pet, until they deem him “ready” enough to prove how well he can fly.

A big part of him wanted to protest, to tell them that Black One is parked just a few klicks away, that he can go there now and show them just how good of a pilot he really is.

He doesn’t, though; he just knows that whatever they’ve got in store for him is probably a lot more intensive than some quick maneuvers with his T-70.

—

Everything seems to settle after that, the decision seeming to satisfy everyone.

Poe is guided up to a higher level of the tree—a massive corkscrew of wood allowing easier access to the whole thing. It’s incredible, and it’s a lot easier to manage than he expected, given his height.

He’s told to leave his clothes there, and after going through all five stages of grief, he accepts that he’s not going to be able to just parade around in his normal clothes—not for now, at least.

He gives in, stripping his clothes—and his pride—and awkwardly setting them down on the ground where he was instructed to.

Once he’s rid himself of his clothes and definitely made a spectacle, he’s given what he assumes will be his new norm, and gets changed. Poe’s definitely been humbled, now wearing what can only be described as a loincloth, more of his skin exposed now than it’s probably ever been.

The filter pack of his mask is clipped to the waistband, and Poe takes this brief moment of privacy to try and grasp what situation he’s gotten himself into.

He should’ve declined the mission, told the General that there were no Resistance bases this far out. But he didn’t.

Confident, headstrong Poe Dameron, the poster boy of the Resistance, stranded on an unfamiliar moon, so far out of his element that anyone back home would laugh.

He’s just gotta get through this, he thinks, even as that miserable feeling of homesickness begins to churn in his stomach.

The one who brought him here returns soon, seeming pleased with his change of attire, before she nods back down in the direction of where they came from.

“Come,” she tells him, waiting patiently for Poe to remember he has legs—that work—and follow suit.

Poe’s leaving most of his things in a haphazard pile, which includes his blaster. The one thing that he kept with him was his mother’s ring—he wouldn’t take that off if his life depended on it.

He follows back down the corkscrew stairway, keeping to himself as he’s led back down to the main level. As he walks, Poe decides that he should probably figure a name for the one that’s brought him here, so he decides on the Hunter.

She hunted him down, and brought him home.

He’s led through to another part of the massive tree, where a fire is burning in the center of several other humanoids—he’ll have to ask what they’re called, too—as they all sit together and eat.

When they find a spot to sit, Poe settles down awkwardly, doing his best to be mindful of the other’s tails as they eat.

Poe’s handed a large, flat leaf, with some kind of…meat? Something. He’s unsure of exactly what he’s been served, but he’s grateful nonetheless. It looks better than any rations he’d had lately, or anything served on base.

The Hunter watches Poe with a sort of amusement as he tries to determine what he’s been given, before leaning over to him to give her two cents.

“You Skypeople can’t breathe here,” she starts, her tone honest as she regards him, and he takes in the information graciously.

So the air is toxic, Poe thinks to himself, satisfied that he wasn’t just wearing a rebreather mask for no reason.

“Eat,” she tells him, immediately pulling his attention from his own thoughts. “—and then it’s back on,” she finishes, referring to the mask he wears, sealed protectively around his face.

Poe’s pretty sure he understands, taking a quick breath before breaking the seal of the mask around his face, which gives him enough time to take a bite of the food he’s been given; once the food’s in his mouth, the mask is back on, the seal suctioning to his face.

It’s not as bad as he would’ve thought it’d be, and his suspicions are correct—it is better than any of the rations he’s eaten, and it certainly beats whatever is served on base.

“Thank you,” he chimes in after a while, finishing another bite of food once his mask has sealed once more.

“For not killing me, y’know..”

She looks up at him from her own food, a soft smile on her face at his remark.

“I planned on it.”

That definitely doesn’t make Poe feel much better, but his smile maintains. After a few beats of silence, and another carefully maneuvered bite of food, Poe can’t seem to keep quiet.

“So…what are you called? I’m not exactly…from around here.”

Her response is simple, between bites like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“We are all Na’vi, but my people are the Omatikaya.”

When—if—he ever gets back home, Poe will have to catalog everything he learns about them. For now, though, he’s just taking it all in; he’s getting used to the new norm.

“Where did you learn Basic?” He asks, literally unable to keep his questions to himself.

She glances at him, before her gaze falls back down to her food.

“There used to be a school, when I was young. A woman used to teach us. She was a dreamwalker.”

And that’s all that she says. Poe can tell that it’s sensitive—a fresh wound that has yet to heal over all the way.

No more questions, he decides, focusing on finishing his food instead of asking her anything else.

There’s a lot for him to learn, and his time here has only just begun.

—

Thank you for reading! I hope my self-indulgence is enjoyable!

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tags: @winniethewife @reallyrallyauthor @my-secret-shame @ingoldthewizard @ominoose @faretheeoscar @silvernight-m @midgardian-witch

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #human x na’vi #avatar 2009 #james cameron avatar #star wars #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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