#tsireya

they always keep their hair so neat, they must retwist every 2 day ….

look at how cute!! the metkayina children parenting their baby sister pril ♥︎(╥ ᴗ ╥) ♡ ♡

-art by jjok_rrt

1: https://www.instagram.com/p/DNTGhTlN-EY/ 2: https://www.instagram.com/p/DNlMDsjNvfg/ 3: https://www.instagram.com/p/DOqSFURjW6G/?img_index=1 4: https://www.instagram.com/p/DRaHa-BkRIj/

WARNINGS: p in v / infidelity / reader has female body / porn with plot / reader is metkayina / dirty talk / public sex / cunnilingus / multiple positions / size kink / belly imprint mentions / hair pulling / multiple orgasms / backshots

AN: so sorry for leaving you guys for so long, i needed to take a writing break because i have a really bad habit of writing a bunch then getting super burnt out so i need to remind myself to take a week or two to recharge and get back into it!! anyways i hope u guys enjoy this!! as much as i love neytiri i rlly wanted to do like a guilty kinda dark smut also for everyone who voted on the poll DWWW because neteyam is next!

WC: 2.9k

꣑ৎ ｡°‧⭑.ᐟ

The Na'vi from the forest came with a different beat. They were awkward and strange, their bodies too lean, their tails too stiff, their feet unsuited for the sand and coral. You observed from your perch above the village as the great Olo'eyktan, Jake Sully, stood before your leaders. His kin stood with him, a look of defiance and terror in their eyes.

You were chosen, along with a few others, to assist in their acclimation. To teach them the ways of the water. It was one of the ways you came to know him. Up close, he was even more menacing. A warrior forged from the darkness of a mighty tree, his aura spilling over the area surrounding you. And his eyes. There was a heaviness in them that you couldn't understand, this depth of sorrow tempered with the steel of a survivor.

You instructed him on how to hold his breath for longer periods of time, on how to swim with the currents instead of against them. His imperfect spear thrusts would be corrected by your gentle hands, your bodies brushing together for an instant too long. You also instructed him in the song of the reef, the names of the various corals and fishes. During these classes, you would notice him looking at you. Not the way a student looks at his instructor, but the way a starving man looks at a woman.

He would look at your mouth, your hips, the way your own thick tail swished back and forth in the water. Then, suddenly remembering himself, he would swallow, his voice harsh and loud in the quiet lagoon, and distance himself from you. You could see the flicker of guilt passing over his face, followed by his own gaze drifting away, preoccupied with the horizon and the burdens of his own conscience, which weighed heavier than the weight of any prying eyes. The struggle between them was almost alive, the third entity to join them in the water.

Now, today's lesson was finished. You were swimming back to the main part of the reef, your heart full of joy. Your tsurak moved easily across the water's surface, and with you swam your tulkun brother, Ro’no. He was singing his deep, throaty song. The day was a perfect one. The sun warmed your scale-covered skin, and the air was thick with the salt of the reef.

Then came the shadow.

A monstrous metal shape, a wound on the surface of the ocean, began to rise. A sky people submarine. You could barely register the danger, a dreadful, metallic thwump booming through the water. The song died away into a pained, gurpling scream. You looked down to see a terrible metal spear protruding from his side, a cloudy red streamer of brilliant crimson blood seeping into the water.

Panic gripped you now, cold and clear. You called out his name in futile shouting that was lost in the vastness of water. You urged your tsurak forward, your heels dug into its flanks in blind terror. But your pursuer was faster. A harpoon lanced out of the water to impale your mount behind its head. Your tsurak collapsed in death seconds before you tumbled into the foamy water below.

You swam.

You swam with every last bit of energy in you, gasping for air, muscles screaming in torment. The shadow of the submarine hung above you, a hunter playing with its victim. The vibrations of the engine thrummed in the water around you. Any hope was long lost. It was now or never. Your eyes clenched shut, and in an act of final desperate prayer, you held up your queue to your chest and prayed to Eywa.

Then a missile was launched from the submarine; the trail of bubbles was coming straight for you.

You gritted your teeth, bracing for impact, but there was none. Rather, an intoxicating Arm dragged you back out of the water, forcing you so violently you almost screamed. You found yourself weightless, plummeting onto a slick, blue back. Your eyes snapped open. It was Jake. He sat on his tsurak, his muscles thrown up in a rigid barricade in front of you, one arm clenched like an iron vise across your waist. He kept his gaze fixed fixedly straight ahead, forcing you backward and away from the metal behemoth killing your brother.

"You should really be more careful, sweetheart." He warned, though you could sense the underlying teasing tone to his words.

He didn’t stop until the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, steering his tsurak towards a small, isolated reef isle. He helped you down, his fingers grazing your side in a way that was just a fraction of a second too long before he stepped back. He disconnected his queue from his mount, then patted it hard. ”Go. Go tell the Metkayina what’s happened. Tell them where we are.” The tsurak let out a protesting cry before leaping back into the water.

The silence was oppressive, apart from the occasional splash of the waves against the shore. Jake moved with a bruteness that verged on brutality, gathering driftwood to build a fire. You sat on the sand, your knees tucked into your chest, the memory of blood in the water etched behind your eyes. The adrenaline was ebbing, leaving you with a hollow, shaking void.

He sat down beside you, not touching but close enough that you could feel the warmth of his skin. The space between you was heavy with all of the things that you'd been meaning to say. The sideways looks, his fingers drifting against yours and then jerking back as if he’d been burned.

“Thank you,” You finally managed to whisper hoarsely. You moved closer, despite your fear, your need for comfort taking over. He coughed, his eyes fixed intently upon the fire. His tail-twitch was aggressive, jerky movements in the sand beneath him. He simply nodded, his body tense with every muscle strained.

You reached out and touched his bicep, feeling the rock-solid muscle underneath his skin. "Jake. I don't even know how to thank you. You just saved my life."

That was it. The breaking point.

Slowly, he turned his head to turn to you. The flames of the fire danced in his eyes, making them gleam with gold before shifting to molten amber. You saw the struggle in his eyes, of duty, guilt, and loyalty, but something else too, something primal and hungry, something reflected in your own hungers. His eyes rested upon your lips, then returned to your eyes. Between you, the distance had vanished.

He could take it no longer.

His lips crashed down on yours. It wasn't an gentle kiss. It was an aggressive, needy kiss. There was salt and pain and an illicit passion that had been simmering for what felt like weeks. His hands were in your hair, grasping it, holding you to him as if he were starving for this kiss. You kissed him back just as roughly, your hands grasping for his chest, for the fabric of his loincloth.

He pulled you into his embrace, his hardness pressed against your body, his thickness bulging against the thin leather of his trousers. He ended the kiss, his breathing heavy in his chest as he looked at you with an expression of both lust and torment.

"I shouldn't," he growled, but his movements contradicted him. His hands wandered all over your body, learning your contours, his thumbs rubbing against the peaks of your nipples through your top. "But I have to. I have to taste all of you," he was mumbling.

He laid you back down on the sandy bed, his husky body covering your entire length. He pulled at the ties of your chest wrap, peeling it back to expose your breasts. He groaned, burying his head between your breasts as his mouth accepted a peaked nipple. His biting and sucking sparked an electric sensation that went straight to your loins, wetting you for him.

His hand trailed down your belly, slipping between your legs. No hesitation, his fingers locating your dampness, caressing you expertly. "You're so wet for me," he whispered against your skin. "So fucking ready." He thrust two fingers deep, then a third, pumping in and out while his thumb danced around your clit. You arched your hips into his touch, milked him for every sensation he could provide, and sighs left your lips.

But he was far from finished teasing you. He shifted, his lips trailing down your body until he was nestled between your legs. He gazed up at you, his eyes dark and feral. Before you could process what he was about to do, his lips lowered and his tongue was on you. He ravaged you with an intensity that teetered on the edge of brutal savagery, his lips and tongue devouring your most sensitive spot until you’re thrashing and pleading for respite. When your climax finally detonated in your system, you screamed his name out loud.

Even before the ripples of pleasure dissipated, he began the next movements. He began the process of undoing his own loincloth. The fabric dropped away. His cock erupted from the loosened cloth, large, hard, and bending upward. He reached out a quick stroke before fixing his gaze on yours.

“I'mma fuck you,” he said, his voice a low command, barely audible as his lips trace all over your skin. “I'm going to fuck you until you forget everything but my name.”

He hooked his hands under your knees, separating your legs far apart. He placed himself at your entrance and thrust inside, slowly and deeply, extending you to your limit. You gasped at the overwhelming feel of being so thoroughly stretched by him. He paused to let you adjust, and then he started moving.

His strokes were powerful and deep, a punishing rhythm that echoed his own pent-up emotions. Every slam of his body against yours left you winded.

He shifted his weight, pressing deeper, and his eyes drifted down to where your bodies were joined. A low, guttural groan rumbled in his chest as he saw it: the thick, rigid outline of his cock pressing against your stomach, a clear, undeniable imprint of his size inside you. He slowly withdrew, almost all the way out, and you watched, transfixed, as the bulge vanished.

Then he thrust back in, hard and deep, and the shape reappeared, more pronounced than before. "Look at that," he growled, his voice a rough, possessive whisper. He placed a large hand flat on your belly, his thumb pressing down right over the head of his cock through your skin.

"Fuck, look at you. So small, taking all of me." A hot blush crept up your neck and flooded your cheeks, a wave of embarrassment washing over you at his raw words. But it was immediately followed by a jolt of dark, shameful pleasure.

You loved it. You loved how he filled you so completely, how his size was a claim written on your very body. He saw your blush and smirked, his eyes darkening with lust. "Yeah, baby. Take it. Take it all."

He grasped a wad of your hair, forcing your head back to bare your neck to him. He bit down on the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder joined, just enough to leave a mark, to claim you.

"You feel that?" he growled in your ear. "You feel how hard you make me? I've wanted this since I saw you," he said.

He maneuvered, drawing out and turning you onto your stomach. He penetrated you from behind, this new positioning allowing him to push even deeper. He reached for your hips, drawing them back to meet his thrusts. The slapping of skin against skin, combined with your cries and his growls, filled the night air.

Then, you felt it. The sensation of a caress against your own queue. You stiffened. He was reaching for the ultimate contact a Na'vi could give.

“Jake.” you breathed, a warning and a plea.

"Shhh," he comforted, his movements slowing. "Let me in. Let me feel you," he pleaded.

He carefully picked the tip of your queue in his hand and extended it to connect with his own. As soon as they met, a world of pleasure erupted inside your head. In an instant, you knew what he was feeling: the grief in his heart, the guilt for Neytiri, the urgent need for you, the bliss of being inside you. And he knew what you were feeling: your fear, your grief for your tulkun, the mind-blowing pleasure he was giving you.

It was too much. The combination of physical pleasure and emotional ecstasy pushed you toward another orgasm. His body was experiencing it too, and his movements became erratic, desperate.

"Come for me," he ordered, the voice in your head as well as in your ears. "Come with me."

Your release shattered you, a silent scream ripping from your throat as your internal walls snapped shut around him. The rush of your orgasm resonating through his mind launched him over the edge. With a brutal thrust, he drove himself deep within you and spilled his seed, a roar of pure, painful pleasure erupting from his chest. You felt his warm seed flood your channel, and within your link, his soul shattered and rebuilt in one blinding instant.

He collapsed upon you, and the weight was a comforting, settling pressure. You simply lay there for a long time, the fire snapping, the waves lapping against the shore. The connection you shared dissipated, but the imprint of his thoughts within your mind was left. He retreated, and you felt a twinge of sadness from the void.

He rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so that you were facing him. He reached out and gently pushed a strand of hair from your face. His touch was shockingly tender now. He focused his attention on the mark he had put on your shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, his voice heavy with a feeling you couldn't quite place. “For everything.”

You understood he wasn’t just talking about the bite. He was talking about Ro’no, about the submarine, about his wife, about this whole, perfect, terrible moment. You didn’t say anything. You merely leaned in and kissed him softly, a gentle pressing of lips, worlds away from the desperation in the kiss just moments before.

He hugged you back, his arms enfolding you as he held you tightly to his chest as though he feared you'd vanish. And in this forgotten, minute island, under the observation of Eywa, you and he discovered this dark, beautiful refuge in each other’s embrace.

But the solace was not to last.

Faint at first, then growing clearer, voices carried across the water. They were calling your names. Tonowari's deep, steady boom. Ronal's sharp, concerned trill. And then, a voice that made Jake's entire body go rigid against yours: Neytiri.

"Jake!"

Panic, sharp and sudden, sliced through the after-sex haze. Both of you scrambled up from the sand, a clumsy, frenetic waltz of reclaiming rejected cloth. You smoothed your loincloth, quickly rebinding your chest cloth, your hands shaking. Jake latched his own loincloth, his movements swift and sure. He ruffled his long hair, trying to erase all signs of your frenzied sex.

You noticed him, and a slow, menacing grin crept across his features. There was no remorse in his eyes only the excitement of evasion.

"Close call," he silently mouthed, his eyes aglow with the intensity of an animal.

The calls were getting closer. You could make out the forms of their ilus swimming through the water towards the island. Neytiri was the first one who reached the shore. She leapt off her ilu before it came to a complete stop. She rushed towards Jake, embracing him in a hug as he navigated off his own mount.

“Jake!” she exclaimed again, burrowing her face into him. “We were so worried. The tsurak said you were attacked.” He hugged her in return, his arms wrapping around her waist, but his gaze was locked on you from over her shoulder. "We're okay," he said calmly and steadily. "It's okay. We're okay."

Ronal and Tonowari soon followed. And the Tsahík's acute eyes had already settled upon you, her face reflecting both fierce maternal protectiveness and relief. She flung herself toward you, cupping your face with gentle hands as if searching it over for wounds. "My child," she whispered, pressing her thumbs against your cheek. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

“I'm okay, Tsahík,” you managed to say, your voice raw from screaming. “They… they killed Ro'no A wave of sadness passed over Ronal's face, but her attention never wavered from you. She searched you thoroughly, her hands resting on your arms and sides to see if you were wounded anywhere. But you felt none of it.

Your entire soul had been attuned to the man with his woman mere feet away from you. Jake was caressing Neytiri's hair, whispering soothing nothings, but he never looked away from you. The pull was magnetic and irrevocable. In those eyes, you saw the echo of your ecstasy, the whisper of desperate moans, the sensation of hands upon your skin.

He was with her, but he is with you, with you in the firelight, with you on the sand, lost in a passion that never should have been. While his mate hugged him tight and the Tsahik attended to you, the two of you simply sat there, the mystery of the island poised between you