WET | jake sully x reader [mini series pt. 1]
“Again.”
You grunt, arms tired and soar, and you feel like crying. Sometimes— no, all the time, you wished that anyone else was your teacher instead of Jake. Who cares if he was once a human as well? He hasn't been one in years and if you were honest, he's more harsher than the actual natives. You've heard that when he was a younger na'vi, he was a bit of a troublemaker. Which is why you're so confused as to why he always has a stick up his fucking ass with you.
Some of your braids fall in front of your face as you look down, shoulders sinking, "But—"
"No buts," Jake sterns, gripping at your forearm and shoving it upwards to which you whine at, "arms up."
With a whimper, you stretch out the bow, back twinging in pain as the dips of your fingers sting. Jake moves, eyeing you from a different angle before gliding behind you. He surprises you when he wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you flush against him as you yelp out. His grip is hard.
"Your back needs to be straight like this." He teaches, demonstrating your now straightened back that is pushed up against his torso. "Not hunched over like this," he pushes your shoulder forward, setting your back into the position you were before.
The thing was, Jake had a very physical type of communication. Something that annoyed you and gave you a shameful amount of pleasure at the same time.
"Otherwise, the strength in your pullback is weakened." He steps back with a click of his tongue, "thought you already learned that, girl."
That nickname again. God, you didn't know why, but it did something to you. Made something swirl hot in the pit of your stomach. Just the deep husk of his voice brewing out the word—
You blink, a quick shake of your head and a flick of your tail and you can feel his gaze burn into your head.
"What is it?"
You turn to him, analysing the look on his face and it's something that you can't put your finger on. You hope it isn't disappointment. You clear your throat, "what is what?"
His eyebrows crease together into a frown before they raise against his forehead. "You're unfocused. Distracted. Like you've got something on your mind."
"I don't," you say, scratching an itchy place on your arm as you try your best to keep your face plain.
"You do. Spit it out," he demands, folding his arms and you can't help but let your eyes flicker to the thick bulge of them. He catches the motion. His eyebrows raise again, but this time it's for a different reason. He circles you again, but this time, it's for a different reason. "You look flustered," he comments, and you swear you see the slightest hint of a grin on his lips.
"I'm not," you rush, eyes widened and heart picking up a hundred times pace.
Jake stops behind you again, tilting his head as you eye him from the side. The warmth of his breath fans against your neck. "You are." He whispers, his tone low and it sends goosebumps through your body. "What? You need a release?"
He says it so casually that it makes you almost choke on your own spit.
"I don't understand, sir." You feel heat rise to your cheeks, head spinning as you try and contemplate what he had just said.
"Not that much to understand. A release is a release." He shrugs, "Not that hard to give it to you. Just gotta tell me if you want it."
Your body is hot. Like, really hot. You feel like you'll explode in any second, and you're not sure if it's in a good or a bad way. You finally meekly turn your head around to see him staring down at you, his eyes relaxed with his jaw set loose. It's intimidating. He really thinks this is normal. You let your eyes slip, flicking to the sweet curve of his lips and that's when he knows.
He pushes you to the closest tree with his hand gripped at your upper arm, and it’s like you’re entranced to just let him do it. Your back hits the tree, its rough bark spiking your skin. You feel the urge to sink your head down into its trunk when Jake leans over, scooping his fingers under your hair and cupping your neck. He pulls you up, sealing his lips to yours and you’re almost rising on your toes from his grip. His other hand glides to support the side of your thigh, fingers rough as they dig into the plush of your skin and never relax. His lips are smooth, melting against yours when he slips his tongue into your mouth. It’s the opposite of chaste as he molds you with the skilful flick of his tongue, holding the back of your head with a heavy hand and beginning to rub gentle circles with his fingers on your thigh.
It’s enough to have the hot swirl spend in your stomach, enough to have you panting and wanting more. Your hands finally pick up enough courage to place them on his shoulders, not without the jitter of your fingers and you can feel a quiet scoff come from him. Dickhead. He probably thinks this is some kind of game, that you’re just a little piece of entertainment for him to end the day. Your thoughts crumble when he suddenly pushes your thigh up, jutting you against him as he wraps your leg around his waist.
His hand finds your lower stomach, resting there for a moment as his fingers curl against your small pouch. Then, his hand slips down, catches onto the mangy material of your loincloth, and he finally breaks your mouth from his. A string of saliva thins and sticks to the bottom of your lip, your chest rising quickly and your breath uneven.
He wipes it for you with the flat of his thumb, then dips it into his own mouth. You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling the heat between your thighs begin to moisture. With his eyes still on you, his fingers dive, picking up the front of your loincloth and flipping it to sit at your thigh. Your connected gaze breaks when his eyes flicker to your lower body, a glimpse of his eyes twitching wide for a second and you feel a wave of embarrassment creep over you.
“Fuck, isn’t that a pretty little sight.” He mutters, then looking at your loin cloth, then back up to you. “Take it off.”
You lay there for a second, heart racing and cheeks warm. He snaps you into action when his head tilts, an action you’ve come to learn as ‘did you not just hear what I said or do I have to make you hear it?’
Finally, the loincloth falls loose, sliding down your hips and onto the ground. Immediately, his thumb is on your clit, circling the bud teasingly and painfully slow. His other hand holds your hip, keeping you comfy in between the tree and himself. He watches you with curious eyes, catching the way your breath hitches and the way your lips fall split.
Two fingers lather down your split, feathering at your folds and experimentally teasing around your entrance. “You always get this wet?” He breathily asks, and you can’t tell if the question is out of proper impressment or just plain teasing. When he doesn’t see you answering, his fingers at your jaw, a lean in with his head. His lips are a centimetre away from yours as he frowns, “I asked you a question.”
You gulp, and a whine breaks from your throat when he presses down onto your clit. “I don’t know…”
He pinches your clit. You jump in his grasp. “Fi—Fine! No.”
He gives a slow kiss to the dip of your neck, flicking at your clit lazily and it makes your thighs fucking tremble. His middle and ring fingers ghost over your pulsing entrance, and you wonder why this man is such a tease. “Tell me you want it,” he mumbles.
His teeth sneak past his lips to nip at your skin, pulling on it gently with his tongue sponging out as well. You knew a hickey was on its way.
“Come on, I want to hear it.” Jake encourages, a hard roll to your clit that has your eyes rolling back with it. He bites down into your neck, a gasp flying from you when you feel his fangs dig into your skin. “Don’t make me force it outta ya,” he warns, the dark edge to his voice dampening his fingers with your running slick.
“Yes, I… I want it,” you whisper. The girth of his two middle fingers slip into your cunt smooth and you can’t help but groan. You stretch out and around him, and a small smile twitches across Jake’s face.
He whistles low and quiet, “Look at the way you suck me in,” he almost says to himself, eyeing the way his blue fingers dissolve into you. He starts moving them in and out gently, to which you gasp loud at. A quiet, taunting laugh is heard from above you. “That’s right.”
His fingers are long and thick, and you can feel the many callouses imprinted on them as they drag along your walls. The moment of gentle is gone when Jake picks up the pace, digging his thumb into your clit. Your back arches, hands digging into his shoulders before falling to the muscle of his arms.
The speed becomes into a ferocious one. It’s rough and unforgiving, like he’s trying to reach deep inside of you and pull something out. The hand on your hip shifts, to speed past your top and press down hard onto your right boob. He squeezes it, rolling the nipple in between the gap of his two fingers. Your breathing gets stuck inside your throat as you choke out a whimper. “Jake—“
“Quit whining.” Jake snaps, then a quick pinch to your nipple. “Take it.”
His fingers curl inside of you, make your body jolt and a hot lick of fire whip through your belly. His palm replaces his thumb on your clit, the length of his fingers jammed full into your cunt as the tough layer of skin of his palm rubs against it. Your hips jerk against him, the grip on his arms tight like if you let go, you'll die.
You let out a tiny moan, and Jake grips at your jaw again, his finger playing at the bottom of your lip before pulling it open, having your mouth in an O shape. "Don't hold back on those noises now, girl."
The band in your stomach tightens, a hard pull to your body and your head slumps against the tree. You can feel its tiny flecks of wood dig into your scalp, but you don't care because all you can focus on is Jake's fingers, moving in and out of you in such a pace, you could catch fire. Now you understand what he's trying to pull out of you, and it's not in a nice way. The release. Like once he gets his hands on it, he'll rip it out.
And he does. You feel your vision fall blurry when your orgasm, the release, crashes through you, rocking your body hard. You cry out, voice cracking into pieces. His fingers keep working up into you, helping you through your high as you regain sensibility. Everything is silent, except for your ragged breathing. You finally blink up at him. He blinks down at you. He pulls his fingers leisurely out of you, the cool of the night's air hitting your bare cunt. He looks down at his soaked fingers before dipping them into his mouth, tongue flatting against them and sucking them clean. You can't read his face.
He puts you back down onto the ground, your knees wobbly and you'd fall over if it weren't for the tree pressed up against your back at the moment. Jake's eyebrows raise slightly.
"Better?" He asks, and before you can respond he's walking away, the leaves underneath his feet making a crushing noise. You're left with only your timid breath, as your loincloth lays messy around your toes.
here’s part two bc yall were THIRSTY. ur welcome alien fuckers💙
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This is based off of that one tiktok from @sorruna where it’s the audio from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse.
——
Dick Grayson was a sneaky, intelligent little shit.
He was also dumb. These things are not mutually exclusive.
To this day, one of his best kept secrets- one of the many, many that he had now- was something he’d take to his grave.
Or to Jason’s grave, at least.
Dick sat down and began telling the story to ears that would never truly hear it.
——
Batman’s voice rumbled behind him as Dick, in his Robin suit, stood blankly on top of a roof.
“I know you snuck out last night, Robin.”
Dick froze, train of thought about his dinner derailed. Holy busted, Batman! Quick! Play dumb!
“Who’s Robin?” He asked, the years of performing in front of a large crowd coming to save his ass.
Not that dumb!
Batman sent him a dry look, reprimand already poised on his lips. Dick, however, was nothing but a good performer. Nay, a dedicated performer.
Quick! Do something out of character! He shouted at himself, panicking visibly. He stepped backwards, an idea appearing in his head. In his defense, it sounded like an amazing idea at the time. He had no idea it would blow up into a Justice League issue. If he had known… Dick would have lied better, probably. There was no way he was going to let B bench him for weeks!
“Who the fuck are you?!” He yelped. Dick apologized mentally to Alfred and his parents. Batman paused, stunned.
“That’s my question. Who are you?!” Bruce asked, immediately hostile. His son doesn’t curse. Well, not in any normal way anyways. Dick quickly backpedaled by yelling at him with a heavy Vlax dialect, missing his parents terribly as he screamed stranger danger in rudimentary Romany. After this, he was going to have to convince Bruce to get him a language tutor. He refused to forget one of the only ties he had left to his parents.
“Wait, wait- you’re my son.” Bruce replied back, in perfect Romany. He looked more convinced but still skeptical.
“My dad is a circus performer! Not a flying rat!” Dick screeched back. He couldn’t help but feel touched about Bruce seeing him like a son.
“Oy! Keep it down out there, you assholes! Some of us like our sleep, damn!” A random Gothamite screamed out of their window.
“Yo, shut the fuck up! The vigilantes are helping to keep the rent low, motherfucker!” Another Gothamite shouted back.
….
Needless to say, Bruce quickly brought Dick back to the cave- with precautions to make sure he didn’t figure out where the Cave was if Dick was actually someone else.
——
“You would have loved it, Little Wing. B was running around like a headless chicken. The memory loss protocol was actually made because of me, you know.” Dick chuckled, sniffling as he talked to the carved gravestone.
It did not reply.
——
The blood tests came back. Yeppers, Dick sarcastically thought, who woulda thought I’m me?
Reinforcements were called in.
Meaning, Batgirl.
“Watch him while I contact Justice League Dark.”
“You think it’s magic?” Barbara asked.
“Yes. There was no one else near our vicinity that could affect Dick like this. He has no head wounds.”
“Eesh. Okay, go. I’ll watch him.”
Bruce disappeared in his zeta tube, looking harried. So, to everyone that’s not a Bat, he looked absolutely terrifying.
“What did you get yourself into now, Boy Wonder?” Barbara sighed. Dick was careful to keep any signs of recognition out of his face.
“Stop calling me that! Where are my parents?!” He asked back. Barbara coughed and looked uncomfortably away.
That’s right, Babs. I’m pulling out the orphan card. Feel bad. Dick hid his feral grin.
“They’re… uh, busy.” Busy being dead, Barbara thought, immediately wincing at her own thoughts. Apparently, Dick thought the excuse was lame too, and he sent her an incredulous look.
“Would you like refreshments, Master Dick?”
“What?”
Alfred held out some cookies on a platter, giving Babs a quelling look as she tried to reach for his share.
“Oh, wow, these are really good!” Dick said as he shoveled cookies into his mouth. He tried to replicate the reaction he had when he tried these for the first time, and from Alfred’s satisfied look, Dick nailed it.
——
“Robin doesn’t remember who he is.” Batman rumbled as he all but dragged Zatanna and Constantine by the scuff of their jackets towards the zeta tubes.
“Hey, wait-”
“We have no time.” Batman snarled, tossing the two magic users into the zeta. He punched in the destination.
When they got there, he glared at the two magic users until they got into the cave.
“Damn, Bats. Really living up to your name, huh?”
“Not bad,” Zatanna said as she looked around.
“Robin,” Batman- Bruce- reminded them. He did a quick glance over to check on his kids, and found them satisfactorily uninjured. Though, Barbara was looking worse for wear. Bruce quickly found out why as she stalked to him.
“You deal with him.” She muttered. “I’m going home.”
Bruce blinked and nodded. “Get home safe.”
Zatanna and Constantine followed Batman as he walked towards Robin. It was odd to see the normally laughing child frown.
“It’s you! The kidnapper! Where are my parents?!”
Bruce winced which, for him, was akin to a full body flinch and recoil. No wonder Barbara was so tired.
“Fix it.”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Batsy.” Constantine grumbled.
“Well help, Batman. Though… I’m not sure if he should be doing that.”
Bruce sharply turned his head back to where Dick was. Emphasis on was. Because now, he’s halfway up the giant dinosaur the Robin had insisted they keep.
“Robin, get down from there!”
“Stranger Danger!” Dick hollered back.
Batman- Bruce Wayne- sighed.
“That’s high level magic,” Zatanna hummed. “I can’t feel anything, but I know for sure that he won’t die. Magic like that either dissipates naturally or…”
“Lasts forever,” Constantine finished.
Bruce groaned, shooting off a grappling line and swooping upwards to catch Dick as he fell from the giant dinosaur.
——
“I pretended to get my memories back later,” Dick chuckled. “And pretended to forget the whole thing. Bruce was so relieved that I stopped knocking things over and trying to do cartwheels in high places that he totally forgot I snuck out.”
Dick patted the headstone.
“But between you and me? I’m pretty sure Alfred knew. I think B pissed him off that week.”
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