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yesimwriting · 5 months

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okay but after the whole lucy gray thing we know coryo was done with “love” and everything BUT what if during the following year of thg he ends up falling in love with another tribute also from district 12 and he’s just going through it bad (again) however he somehow ends up actually getting the girl in the end, maybe even buying her way into the capitol

A/n I've been thinking about a very specific part of this since i first read it but i told myself no more fic writing until i finished at least one of my essays for finals seasons 😭

also ik in the book (and it's implied in the movie) that after the events of the book he lives with the plinths, but let's pretend he lives on his own with access to the plinth fortune for privacy

ik that makes it sound like it's smutty, but it's not lol

----

Proximity aggravates distance. The closer you are to something, the more damage any remaining space causes.

The few feet dividing the two of you have no right to jab at something inside of him the way it does. It's bad enough that instead of going to bed after a long night of fulfilling his apprenticeship duties under Volumnia's watchful eye, he stopped by your apartment. Only one floor away from his.

For months, the only thing holding the two of you together had been memories of those few nights before the Games.

Coriolanus's attempt to remain indifferent towards you had quickly failed, and his backup plan of learning to loathe you had proven to be just as useless. So he settled on letting you unabashedly take his hand whenever fear overwhelmed you and committing the way your kind eyes watched him to memory.

You're looking around the room--his room--openly, eyes darting from the mahogany surface of his desk to the details elegantly carved into his bed frame.

His fingertips itch with the uncertain desire to reach for you. You've only been in the Capitol for about a day and a half. Less than 48 hours. But the move, the beginning of a program for certain, qualifying victors and their families, had been planned for months.

You shouldn't feel like a phantom that'll vanish if he lets go for too long. "What are you thinking about?"

The question grounds you the same way it did last time he asked. You do your best to hide it, but you're still adjusting, still surprised that he managed to find a way to bring you together again. Just like he promised. Your doubt isn't personal, a fact he has to remind himself of.

"I'm just..." You tilt your head slightly, gaze retreating from the royal blue wallpaper and silver trim of his bedroom walls, "Analyzing."

The comment is followed by an easygoing smile that pinches at something in his chest. His new apartment, the penthouse of one of the largest buildings in the city, another gift from the ever flowing well that is the Plinth fortune, still reeks of former poverty. The few things that hint at the personal are hidden behind layers of desperate wealth so thick the items might as well be standard.

A lifetime spent in 12 means that there's no way you can read between the lines. He can't decide if your perspective will make this room look worse or better. It's a nice bedroom, definitely grander than any bedroom you've stood in before...but it's understated. Maybe even disappointing to someone like you.

"Analyzing?"

You turn fully, "A bedroom says a lot about a person."

"You might get more out of analyzing my study," an oddly school boy worthy partial truth slips out before he can stop himself, "I think I've been spending more time there than here recently."

You shake your head once, eyes landing on the crimson red vase filed with crisp white roses his grandma'am had gifted him on his last visit. Her pride and joy now more than ever. "I'm seeing all I need."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It's the most genuine expression that's slipped past him in weeks. When he first worked out a way to bring you here, some doubting part of him wondered if the draw he felt towards you would still exist in person.

Less than two weeks after your victorious departure from the Capitol, he had searched through your files and found your address. He had written the letter in a moment of weakness and only sent it after deciding that writing a letter to never be sent is the only thing more pathetic than writing to you in the first place. He had spent the week following that wallowing in self loathing until an age-stained envelope arrived at his door.

"And what are you seeing?" He keeps his tone light. This is ridiculous. He dragged himself and his family out of a gutter clogged by the casualties of war. Coriolanus is stronger than fleeting emotion now. Your opinions on his room can't possibly affect him.

If he were to simplify what brought you here, to the Capitol, to him, he could blame it on his bedroom. The urge to see you, to figure out some way the two of you closer together before your undeserving district could swallow you whole in an attempt to make you like them, would flare up whenever he received one of your letters.

Those urges, however, had never burned him. Not until you wrote about wanting to see him out of the most curious nostalgia you'd ever felt. You wanted to see him in a way that'd let you know what his room looked like, in a way that'd let you guess at his favorite color.

He takes a few steps forward, making the conscious decision to not reach for you. You've never rejected his advances, not even when he instinctually intertwined your fingers after picking you and your family up from the train station. You had scolded him after, telling him that you'd hear no end of it from your mother. It took a lot of focus for Coriolanus to not smile at that. You spoke of it like it would've never occurred to you to just pull your hand away.

Your eyes shift from end of the room to the other. Coriolanus moves carefully, passing you before sitting at the edge of his crisply made bed.

"Before you make your decision..." You turn instinctually, expression so polite and expecting he almost doesn't know how to bear it. His hand briefly pats the space beside him in a silent invitation. "So you can see it from all perspectives."

Your head tilts slightly, and for a moment, Coriolanus can practically feel your rejection. Then you move, sock clad feet treading over smooth white-gray marble. You sit next to him so assuredly, anyone else would have taken the way you neatly fold your hands in your lap as politeness instead of a display of nerves.

Your family's presence makes you less pliable. It's a factor he's willing to work around considering that you would've never left them to come to the Capitol. And even if he had managed to talk you into it, your nostalgia and homesickness would've made you more of a ghost to him than before.

At least the position your family's in is uncertain enough to allow for some leeway in the social norms that you cling to. However, every once in awhile it hits you that at the end of the day, he's still a boy that you're close to, which means that it's your duty to create the distance necessary to keep everything proper. Leaving your bedroom in the middle of the night because said boy knocked at your door and then entering his room in his empty penthouse is something you would've done under normal circumstances.

But your connection isn't that black and white. If it was something so simple, he would have been able to sever it the night before your Games.

"It makes all the difference," you agree warmly, and only somewhat sarcastically. You give yourself another second to take in the space, "I like it."

He can tell that you mean it. "I haven't fully settled in yet."

You shrug, paying him little mind, "There's something about it that just feels like you."

Coriolanus shifts his focus to the ground. You can't possibly mean it in the way that he sees the room, as a reminder that he still doesn't fully fit into who he's become.

"I've been meaning to pick up a few things," he says, "Tomorrow, after my classes, I was thinking about browsing some paintings." Another half truth. He had been meaning to. Mrs. Plinth had instructed him to visit her art dealer whenever he had enough free time to pick out a few pieces to demonstrate his taste. He'd been putting it off as a dismissable task, but it feels like a safe way to give you your first taste of life in the Capitol. "If you'd like to help me pick some out."

You smile, eyebrows pinching together in a way that's just barely noticeable. You're as interested as you are puzzled. "I'd like that." Relaxing enough to let your hand rest between the two of you, you beam, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but I'd like that."

He'd be willing to get anything that caught your eye. Paintings and vases already with such an exclusive art dealer hold more or less the same level of standing, anyway.

Coriolanus moves his hand slowly, careful not to startle you before his fingers can settle against your own. You instinctually turn over your palm, intertwining your fingers. "I trust you."

You stare at him with wide, understanding eyes. Sometimes when you look at him, really look at him, Coriolanus is struck with the feeling that you can see right through him. It's an irrational feeling, that every good action and cruel deed is reflected in his eyes. Moments like this make it hard to be near you. They also, however, make the thought of adding distance between the two of you unbearable.

"I have an early class."

You dip your chin forward in an attempt to accept what you're considering a dismissal. "Right, you must be tired." The words sit between you for a long moment.

Your free hand presses into the silk of your still new pajamas. You shift like you're going to stand. His hold on your hand tightens before you can move away. You still.

He's being ridiculous. There's nothing about this situation that warrants his inability to look at you. "Stay here." His thumb runs across your knuckles. "With me."

The words are soft enough to be a request, but there's not enough space between them for questioning. He cautiously lifts his head enough to take in your reaction.

"What?" It's a display of shock more than an actual question. Coriolanus squeezes your hand even tighter. You don't try to get him to let go, but you do shift away just enough to create the reminder of distance. "You know I can't."

His other hand reaches forward, settling against your wrist. "Why not?" He doesn't mean for his voice to come off as raspy, as desperate as it does.

You swallow, attempting to straighten your spine in an attempt to offset the instinctual urge to hide your face. This isn't a topic you're even comfortable implying. "My mother would kill me if she so much as found out that I came up here so late, let alone..." You trail off, head dropping to your lap. "Stayed here."

He envelops your hand between both of his. "She knows we're friendly."

You look up just long enough to imply a pointed not that friendly. "It's--" You blink, eyes darting from to your joint hands and then finally to the ground. "You know it's..."

Coriolanus leans forward. The shift is small, just enough for his knee to brush against yours. "It's what?" He keeps his voice low, a barely there whisper that comes off as so innocent it nearly circles back to anything but.

You glance up, so wide eyed and flighty he's reminded of a rabbit. The level of precaution you're exuding can't just be about your mother's opinions, can it? He studies your expression openly, taking in the set of your eyebrows and the way you steadily press your lips together to avoid speaking without thinking. At least some part of you believes in your mother's concerns.

The realization strike shim so quickly he has to focus on keeping his expression neutral. Your bond is so much more than just coming together on a random night where exhaustion's already clouding his focus.

It will happen between the two of you. Eventually. But not yet. You've barely entered the Capitol and every aspect of your life has become vastly different than what you're accustomed to. If he were to attempt to cement any relationship between the two of you like that now, you'd be too overwhelmed or you might think that that's the only reason he brought you here.

He learned early on that it's best to introduce adjustments to you slowly, giving you enough time to hold onto ideas before enacting them. Anything of that nature would work that way too.

"I haven't been able to see much of you." He focuses on your hand, still resting safely between both of his. The words came out too quickly, a flash of some genuine sort of emotion that claw at him on the way out. With you, sometimes a glimpse of feeling works wonders.

Your thumb draws gentle patterns against the side of his hand. "You're busy." He relaxes his hand, turning over his palm. You place his hand on your knee, fingers tracing the natural creases etched into his skin. "You're important."

The way that last word comes out makes an uncertain warmth crawl up his neck. "I--I've wanted to see you more." Another thing he means so much it turns his stomach to admit it.

Your nail drags down a line that cuts across the length of his hand. "Me too."

He bends his fingers slowly, moving in until he's trapped your pointer finger against his palm. "Then stay." You twist your finger enough to express some lighthearted irritation, but not enough to count as a real attempt at escaping. "If your mother says anything, I'll explain it to her." You glare at him without any true aggression. "She likes me, doesn't she?"

Coriolanus already knows the answer. She credits your survival to him. You had mentioned that in a letter once, telling him that she insisted you pass along her gratitude after discovering that the two of you had started to correspond regularly.

He also saw the way she reacted to realizing that she had made it to the Capitol. Your mother's family had once been part of the wealthier side of 12. You're part of a recently fallen line of mine owners, a fact that your mother has only pretended to let go of. He saw a hunger behind her eyes that reminded him of a warped version of his own.

Coriolanus gave her back the pride the war had stolen from her family name tenfold. He owes her this much.

"She'd trade me for you in a heartbeat." He hears the grin in your voice more than he sees it. Your family means the world to you, which means he's subjected himself to seeking your mother's validation and winning over your two younger sisters.

It's not the way he'd choose to spend his limited free time, especially with you standing right there, but he's endured worse for less of a pay off. "Then she'd be a fool."

You fight to hold his gaze. "I doubt that."

Your eyes are pools of honest, unfiltered affection. The care that you're watching him with makes it hard to swallow. The instinct to press, to dig and claw and tear anything that could be hiding an ulterior motive into shreds makes it hard to take a full breath. You've always worn your heart on your sleeve. You're not a flighty songbird that uses its charm to distract its prey from its fang-like talons.

"Stay." Again. So breathless he almost doesn't recognize the word as his own.

The deliberation is transparent behind your eyes. You're considering it, but you're still not convinced. The hesitation stings in a way he doesn't understand. "I don't want to give her a reason to not like you."

So softly spoken he's shocked by the way the words manage to feel like a nail being hammered into his chest.

"She's let you stay with other people before." The response is too sharp, too sudden. He should refocus and think through what he's about to say. Coriolanus knows that it's easier to get you to agree to something through the use of honey sweetened words and displays of patience. "You wrote about him."

The confusion that briefly etches its way into your expression threatens to quell the uncomfortable swell of jealousy tightening his chest. "Warren?" The name makes tints the air between you with something acidic. "That was--different."

Your explanation adds an edge to the pressure in his chest. "Why?"

"We weren't--" You cut yourself off, the instinct to placate him and your desire to not start a conversation you can't finish battling each other oddly. "We were never alone." You squeeze his hand as best as you can. "He's a family friend and I only stayed over when my mom had to work late and I was too young to be alone for so long, so I haven't stayed over in years. And--and he shared a room with three of his siblings and his parents checked on us constantly."

He frowns, unconvinced. The lack of approval has you clinging to him, adjusting your hold on his hand as you gently trail your knuckles against the inside of his wrist. "I do miss you." You stare at your hands. "I know it's weird because we're--y'know--closer than before, but I-I do miss you."

The expanding wave of tension in his chest begins to deflate. You're good at that, at redirecting and soothing without even realizing it. A talent that had contributed to his original desire to loathe you. "I understand that." He runs his thumb over your knuckles. "Things aren't going to get less busy. That's why I want to use all the time we have."

You nod slowly, a hint of understanding making its appearance in the set of your brow. "I know."

"What you wrote," he begins, too aware of how much he means the question that follows, "Did you mean it."

"Of course I did." Not an ounce of hesitation, of uncertainty.

He turns your hand over before shifting his fingers up the inside of your wrist. "You wrote about wanting to see me."

"I did..." The pad of his thumb gently makes its way up your forearm. Your even breathing falters. "I do."

Coriolanus lets himself look up just enough to take in your expression. "Then stay." He swallows, too aware of the sudden dryness of his mouth. "Please."

You glance up at him through your lashes. There's a softness there that jabs at him. "Okay."

He lifts the back of your hand, carefully brushing his lips against your skin. "You mentioned wanting to see a library."

You wrote about it once. A brief mention in one of your letters of the small room in your school's office that served as a sort of communal study space with a few books stacked on a small shelf. Your longing had been clear.

Nodding curiously, you agree, "Yeah?"

"I could leave for my classes a little earlier tomorrow, you could come with me." The proposal comes out slowly, his own suggestion taking him by surprise. "My driver could bring you back, that'll give you time to meet the tutor that's being sent over for your sisters, and then when I get back we'll look at the paintings."

You immediately grin, "Really?"

He finds himself smiling back, pulling your arm closer. "Whatever you want."

You beam. "I'd really like that."

"Good," he affirms with a nod of his head that's a touch too forward. He regrets it almost immediately. "If you like it, I might be able to get your own tutor to meet you at a library."

Part of the still uncertain victor program relies on setting up the victor and their family with a new life. Education plays a role in that. Placing any one of you in an actual Capitol run institution is far out of the question. For everyone's sake. Even if the thought of sharing a classroom with someone from 12 didn't horrify the Capitol parents, you and your siblings wouldn't be able to just jump in. It's not that he views you as unintelligent, but District 12's education system isn't exactly on par with the Capitol's.

"That sounds nice," you sit up a little straighter, excited by the prospect, "A part of me kind of misses school."

Another aspect of your personality that he had learned about after your Games. You like school for the sake of it. "I'll check on the arrangements tomorrow."

He clears his throat before you can do more than just nod, "It's getting late."

Coriolanus carefully sets your hand down on the comforter. You awkwardly shift, now more aware of what you agreed to than ever. "Right," you push yourself to stand, "You need your sleep."

He pulls back his sheets before you can think about it even further. You crawl into the provided space without looking at anything in particular. He's quick to join you beneath the safety of plush bedding before leaning over and turning off the bedside lamp.

Darkness floods the space. There's something about the absence of light that makes things feel heavier. The potential intimacy of the situation sneaks up on him with no warning.

This isn't a loss of control. It can't be. It was his idea, he had pushed and convinced you to stay here. He's aware of everything that's led up to this moment, but that's not enough to stop him from wondering if this is something than he should have known better than to embrace. He had accepted the familiar, fickle knotting of his stomach once before.

Steady warmth presses itself against his arm. He blinks, head turning a second too quickly. Your hand has found his. Coriolanus relaxes, allowing himself to fully relax against his pillow. You pick up on his shift, reflecting it by laying down as well.

For someone that had been so hesitant, you seem to know what to do better than he does. You pull his arm towards you, gently trailing your fingers against the exposed skin. Heat crawls up his neck.

"Goodnight," you mumble, voice already drowsy.

Coriolanus lets out a long breath. He grasps your hand, bringing it back to his lips before settling back into the position the two of you were in before. "Goodnight."

#the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader

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maneatrrz · 1 year

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‧₊˚✩ wishing it was you / j. sully

♡ 𓂃 ꒰ wishing it was you! ꒱˚.༄ ೃ jake sully x fem!reader. 5.2k words. ⌒(≧▽° )

𓆩♡𓆪 synopsis: ever since you shared a heartfelt moment, jake has been constantly avoiding you. convinced he's in love with neytiri, you find out it's a lot more complicated after confronting him in the woods: your being is everything he burns for, and it terrifies him. you tempt him in a way you shouldn't, and he's doing everything he can to protect your delicate divinity. but with lips and an attitude like yours, it's becoming taxing for him to resist ditching saintly restraint for a dance with the devil.

content: biblically inaccurate and brotherly!tsu'tey, biblically inaccurate timeline (it's ok guys just go with it it's an au haha), dom!jake sully but also whimpering!jake sully, oral fixation, nipple sucking, hickeys, love bites, vaginal penetration, praising and teasing. slight angst because you both have serious abandonment issues, but an ample amount of fluff and physical affection.

ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ additional notes: this is my first published writing, and also the first time i've written smut myself-i am more than willing to receive tips, just please keep that in mind and be gentle! i also am a bit rusty on the writing uptake and formatting update, and this is definitely not my best work and i hate this with a visceral anger, but i hope you like it regardless because i spent way too much time on it. mwah, thank you lovelies!

୨✩୧ ; MINORS DNI! fic under the cut!

jake sully.

stupid, jake sully.

you observed him carefully from your seat in the plush, lush forest illuminated by the glittering night sky above you, along with the golden flames in front of you. the affectionately crowned toruk makto was chasing around neytiri, as he was wont to do-you were convinced he was vehemently enamored with her. neytiri on the other hand, was adeptly avoiding his efforts to yank her tail with a feline-like grace, and an effervescent, opaline smile exposing sharp canines. you found it hard to blame him, however. she possessed both the deft and couth you were certain you lacked. she made everything look perfect, and it didn’t help that she was beautiful, either. one look into her scintillating eyes could enrapture you, especially during this oppressive, sultry summer weather. the sweltering heat had persuaded you into thinking she was an angel one too many times. but you guessed in his world, she was.

it was stupid.

he was stupid.

“fuck,” you brought your hand up to the newfound throbbing pressure on your mouth, painting slender fingers with a rich, sanguine color: blood. you had bitten through the roast you were eating and into your poor, faultless lip. “i was thinking way too hard.”

“ponder less over jake sully, and more about how our great mother has let you live another day,” tsu’tey smacked you upside the head playfully, taking a bite out of his sturmbeast steak. you couldn’t help but smile a little-you found comfort in him as the brother you never had. when you had arrived on pandora, you were met with cynic skepticism from him, but you had proven yourself to him eventually. your friendship allowed him to lighten up and be more lively, too. “i am pleasantly surprised a skxawng like you has lived this long, y/n.”

“you literally suck,” you feigned lamentation by placing one hand on your chest, and using the other to wipe intangible tears from the unwarranted libel. it earned you a hearty laugh from tsu’tey, followed by a small fit of coughs. “you’re coughing like an old man. slow down, grandpa. easy on the chuckle.”

“now you suck,” he pushed your shoulder lightly, before panning his head over to jake and neytiri, who were now much farther away. jake’s face looked amorphous in the distance, but tsu’tey could see strong brows furrowed in the haze. he began to wonder if he needed what humans called “glasses”. neytiri clasped jake’s forearm before tugging at him to go further into the thicket, turning their backs on you. he fixed his gaze on you now, rubbing his temples.

“...shit, well, that’s fucking fantastic. your ‘fiancee’ ran away into the woods with the fucking idiot. whatever,” you waved a hand to the distance with a heavy sigh, raising the roast to your mouth. you added with a somber mumble, “this was not how it was supposed to go.”

this was seriously not how it was supposed to go.

it wasn’t-neytiri was promised to tsu’tey, and you…what were you to jake?

you were supposed to explore this world and your new bodies together, and you did, at first. attached at the hip, confused and frightened (although, jake would only say ‘slightly’ for his pride) of the wondrous expanse around you. you would lay in your shared, flimsy little cot as you watched the sable dusk melt into an ethereal aurora, talking about everything and anything. what your lives were like on earth, what you wanted to do when you came back-your own personal bucket lists, intrusive thoughts, your worst jokes, your favorite fruits-everything. you both confessed things you had never even said.

enter neytiri, stage left.

she tried to kill you both. she almost succeeded after jake pushed you out of the way to take the blow for you, but you throwing a water canteen at her alerted her that you were not a threat-you weren’t armed with anything to attack her with, and you certainly couldn’t kill her if you tried with those reflexes. she told you this later and it offended you, but the offense disappeared as you realized you were just happy that you were alive. you were happy that jake was alive. he didn’t have to try and save you.

‘of course i did. i don’t know what i’d do without you,’ was all he said in response, with a soft, darkly warm tone that made something burn low in your chest. it was a memory etched in your mind that never failed to make your limbs deliquesce, turning you into a shallow pool of ardor and elation. only for a brief moment, as your puddle would turn into hoarfrost and coat the ground of your empty heart. it seemed like after that day, that was when you truly watched him fade away.

he stopped sleeping in the cot with you, so you had no one for consolation on gelid nights. he’d take neytiri and tsu’tey on raids and hunts, getting frustrated when you’d ask to accompany them. and when neytiri had explained their rituals and the inner workings of mating that came with it, he started to ignore your entirety, without a single explanation why. it must’ve been her.

it had to be her, right?

“fuck it,” you jolted up switfly, dragging tsu’tey by his arm. “get your ass up and let’s go find them.”

“you are just going to find something you do not want to see,” he planted his feet on the ground firmly, rigid and unmoving to your touch. you turned to look at him, as he furrowed one of his brows. “are you a lecher, y/n? is that what this is?”

“first of all, ew. absolutely not. second of all, are you dumb? if they successfully get down and dirty, she’s no longer promised to you, right?” his ears flicked at your response, finally relenting to your touch. “now let’s go.”

you followed their scent, navigating the underbrush with tsu’tey, who was regretting his decision to come with you. you were supposed to be moving cautiously and quietly, yet you kept walking into leaves and suppressing meltdowns over previously uncovered bugs. he was busy thinking of ways to cover up your pursuit when you stopped suddenly, murmuring in the distance.

“...and i love…so, i don’t…” you could make out bits and pieces of a husky voice’s speech through the trees. the mention of love made your heart beat to an unspoken cadence.

“...then tell…keep waiting…unfair…” the second voice spoke with a higher pitch, but a louder tone, the words poisoned with blatant vexation. you contorted your face and looked to tsu’tey, his visage equally scrunched and perplexed. you ventured further into the thicket, until you could make a slight outline of two bodies through thick blades of green.

“she already hates me, neytiri. it’s not worth it,” the lower voice, now discernable completely as jake, slapped his hands to sides and fidgeted through the leaves. he was painfully nervous-he wasn’t the type of person who froze when he was scared. he dawdled around aimlessly. like an idiot, you added a note to your mental observations. a lying, stupid idiot.

“she is going to hate you more if you do not get it together,” a seethe, accompanied by the flattening of ears and a slap to jake’s head. “you will lose her completely. tell y/n.”

“i can’t.”

“it appears you have no choice. y/n,” neytiri swiftly moved through the grass to reveal your hiding spot, tsu’tey’s mouth pursed and yours agape. the edges of her lips curled up into a demure smile. “i had faith that you would come after us. i did not expect you, however. come with me.”

her tone was that of a mother scolding her child, leading tsu’tey back to camp by his small, tender ear. her chides in na’vi as she stomped would’ve made you giggle if it were not for the looming dread in your sternum, turning towards jake and his solemn, downturned ears.

his stupid ears.

his stupid nose.

his lying mouth.

“i know,” to your short response his eyes widened, cheeks donning an uncharacteristic tint.

“i’m so sorry. i know it’s fucked up of me, but i didn’t know how to-”

“-it’s okay. you don’t need my blessing to mate with neytiri, right? i just would’ve preferred you told me sooner. i knew you liked her, it just sucked. to be left in the dust. i really liked you, you know,” you crossed your arms and pressed them close to your chest, trying to ignore the saline tears welling in your eyes. and then, he laughed.

how could he laugh at a time like this?

he really didn’t care, did he?

jake sully.

stupid, lying jake sully.

“fuck you,” you bursted out, teardrops scalding your cheeks in their wake as you turned to leave.

“wait, i’m not laughing for the reasons you think i am-okay, wait. wait, let me explain,” his fingers brushed your wrist, reaching a little too late. “y/n! let me explain.”

“i literally cannot think of a way you can explain this without looking like a total cunt-ow! let go of me, jake! what the h-” your scorning monologue was brief, as jake pulled you off balance by your tail. you fell back first into the tall grass, head braced by jake’s hand underneath it. his hips pinned you to the ground by your own, one leg in between your own. broad shoulders loomed over you and cut out of your peripheral. you felt so…small, underneath him. it increased the growing ache in your lower abdomen, fueled by neither hurt, nor fear. you tried to squeeze your legs together to negate the pooling sensation-you shouldn’t have felt like this. this was a bad idea.

“so, uh, as i was saying…” he trailed off as you rolled your head to the side, refusing to look at him. “can you just look at me?”

“no.”

“fine,” he shook his head slightly with a tsk sound, assessing your body and the way it seemed to be engulfed by his own-even as a na’vi, you were so tiny in comparison to him. just as he seemed to be lost enough in his own thoughts for you to make your escape, he shifted your position abruptly. whipping your head towards him, it felt like all of his weight was on you: his nails dug into your thighs as he pulled them apart and past his torso-now, he was directly in between your legs. jake leaned forward onto his forearms, your lips millimeters apart from one another. you had no choice but to look into rich, amber eyes. either that, or focus on the way his hips were pistoned deeper into yours, fabric unwilling to spare you the feeling of his length rubbing against your clothed sex.

“as you were saying,” you cleared your throat, scratching an itch on the top of your head. he smirked, pleased with his ability to make you yield. his smirk quickly faded, replaced by a more stoic expression.

“remember the day we almost died?”

“you mean, one of the last days you pretended that you knew me?” you scoffed, and he narrowed his eyes at you for a split moment. “yeah, i remember.”

“i didn’t care if i died, but,” he began to fidget nervously, involuntarily exacerbating the wanton throb. yet, you were too focused on his words to notice. “i cared if you died, and i cared a lot, a lot more than i was supposed to. and that started fucking with me.”

you tilted your head with a doe-eyed expression that made jake tense up with a potent, unsolicited salacity. his ensnarement tactic was working painfully against him. his loincloth was growing increasingly more soiled in a messy, debauched ring.

“so i, uh…i ran, like an idiot,” jake’s breath hiked to a dry growl, shifting weight between legs. “i didn’t want to get you hurt. because if i did let myself and i let something happen to you, not only would i lose you, i would lose myself. i would lose everything i believe in. so, i tried to stay away from you.”

“well, i mean. you did just regain the ability to walk again. i’d wanna run, too,” you snickered in attempt to lighten the mood, unable to handle the sonorous tone of his words. jake rolled his eyes, holding back a smile. he thought that shouldn’t have been as funny to him as it was. “i’m so funny.”

“yeah, whatever. anyways,” he took a deep breath, knowing damn well you were right. “as we settled into omatikayan land, neytiri told us about customs, and picking a mate. how i would eventually claim a woman. i started avoiding you right around ‘mating’ season, so it was hard.”

“...okay? what does this have to do with me?” there was too much emotional clamor inhabiting your brain to properly absorb what he was saying. “ohhh…so you claimed neytiri right after ignoring my existence, and now you want to rub salt in the wound because you’re a dickhead-i’m so smart.”

“no-you have got to be dumber than me, holy shit,” he bit his lip in discontempt. either you genuinely were painfully oblivious to the situation, or you wanted him to spell it out for you. he had a notion that it was a reasonable mixture of both. “you literally just disregarded the last few things i’ve said. if it’s time for me to claim a woman, why would i claim neytiri? why would it be hard to stop talking to you?”

“chill out bitch, damn. i’m not the one who pretended someone didn’t exist for several months, watch your mouth. i’m listening though,” you weren’t really. “you’d claim her because you fell in love with her, and then maybe, i don’t know-your conscience thought it was a little weird to completely drop person and cling onto the next? surprised you have one. we’re running in circles.”

“but i wouldn’t claim a woman i didn’t want. i don’t want neytiri.”

“cool…? i don’t know what to say to you.”

“you just want me to say it outright for you, don’t you?”

“that would be particularly helpful, yes. i think if we did this from the beginning it would’ve helped.”

“if i was around you, i would’ve gone against my better judgment and claimed you in a heartbeat. to be blunt, i wanted to fuck you really bad.”

“wow! that seriously took a hard turn,” that was not the most appropriate reaction, but it was all you could utter.

was this how it was supposed to go?

your lips parted slightly, and jake immediately fixated on them. while he was noticing how roseate and plush they looked, you were having an internal dilemma at lightspeed. you thought this man hated you, and this whole time it was the stark opposite? were you the stupid one? were you the idiot? no, you couldn’t be. when you came down from your catatonic spell-well, it was more like you hit the ground violently, you minded jake’s position in between your legs. you also minded the soaked, wet state of your loincloth. “you wanted me like that?”

“yes, i did. but seeing you was a reminder that i couldn’t have you, and i wanted you so bad,” you watched jake’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and nodded, looking down at you with a darker stare. it was one you had never seen from him. a more predatory gaze. “i shouldn’t have wanted you, and i wanted you so bad. it’s only gotten worse.”

you assessed his gaze. it was as if he was ready to ravage you and everything that you were in that moment, right there. perhaps that gave you the courage to push his limits-how depraved was he, truly? how much restraint did he have, when it came to you?

“and all this time i’ve been sucking on a bottle of pink whitney, wishing it was you,” you ran your hands over the grooves in his arms, separating each mammoth, rigid muscle. you took one of his hands in both of yours, running his calloused finger over your inner thigh slightly-enough to pick up the sticky substance that threatened to gush out of you. “but now, we’re here. you’ve starved me as much as you’ve starved yourself. so, what are you going to do? what you should do, or what you want to?”

he growled just above a dull roar, trying to battle his ache and the dilemma of forbidden pining. god, how he wanted you. he ached for you, with such an illicit thirst-to devour you, one kiss at a time. your fingers skimmed the pressed outline of his aching tip through his loincloth, which elicited a frantic, breathy gasp from jake. “you can be gentle, or you can be rough. you don’t have to think about anything. actually, i’m pretty sure you’ve been thinking way too much.”

“you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” it came out as more of a dark, tenebrous moan that made you giggle. he stared down at your slick, tempting essence. he wanted to indulge in you, the delicacy that you were to him. yet a quick taste would never be just that-he’d want all of you. he looked back up at you, with the same predatory leer. you brought jake’s hand up to his mouth, feeling the ache worsen as he licked them clean with a groan.

“or, maybe i do.”

his hands worked their way up your thighs. your breath shortened as you let your eyes graze his hands-large, azure, and veiny. the position jake’s hands on your legs seemed natural, as if they were right where they belonged. he gripped your thighs, massaging the innermost part with his thumbs. his lips chose to travel to your collarbone and continue their conquest upwards, leaving carmine bruises, love bites, and tender kisses in their wake. he stopped when he was positioned face-to-face. your heart beat out of your chest as you felt lustrous yellow eyes linger on your own, and then your lips. he brushed them against yours.

“i’ve waited for this forever, you know,” he caressed your cheeks with his thumbs. “you’re so beautiful. as humans, or big blue people. whatever we are, and wherever we are, you’ve always stunned me. every rational thought i have blurs when i look at you, it’s like you put a spell on me. you’re enchanting, and it’s unreal.”

“you think so?” your ears perked up coyly as you felt your lips curve into a smile. that was probably the nicest thing anyone had said to you in awhile, or the history of ever, even. your honeyed reaction made his tail flick around in back of him, enamored by your visage. it continued to swish, curling prettily.

“oh, honey. i know you are. my pretty, pretty baby,” he kissed your nose, giving you a grin. his tongue ran over your bottom lip with a soft bite, before intertwining his lips with yours.

suddenly the air was thick and hot; infernal. you weren’t the worst kisser, but god, you felt like you paled in comparison to jake fucking sully. his tongue spoke to you a simple, yet tantalizing and tantric mantra that mesmerized you. veiny hands danced a viennese waltz against soft skin, retracing the path that led to your lips. he let his hands trail back down to your thighs, fingers grazing your sodden, clothed clit.

“you wanted me so bad, huh? all wet for me?” you nodded as he played with the string on your loincloth, before pulling it off and to the side.

“well, i fucking needed you, oh,” he let out a husky moan and ran his fingers over your lips, before parting them. “look at you-what a perfect pussy. i’m going to fucking ruin you.”

he thumbed your engorged, tender clit with one hand, while sliding in the middle & ring finger of the other into your warm, messy cunt. it was all so overwhelming-your faint titillated whimpers and whines, paired with the sound of fingers enveloped in slick folds. your voice was muted and low in an attempt to preserve the sanity and sleep of those in the relatively adjacent camp. but in the stillness of the night, the hot cacophony of your saccharine sweet voice and his frenetic movements that produced such wet, obscene noises, were resound upon jake’s ears. he thought it was akin to that of a siren’s beguiling melody.

“i want…w-want…mm,” you babbled, jake looking at you, yet unrelenting in his pace. the way he pumped his fingers was heavenly, but you needed more. “…you. inside me, please.”

“don’t worry. i’ll fuck that pretty pussy soon. but first…” he unclasped your chest piece with one hand, throwing it to the side while he kneaded one of your boobs. he flicked your nipple with his tongue before swirling it around the sensitive nub, latching onto it. he drove his fingers in and out of your squelching cunt with the occasional curl. two fingers alone already made you feel so full, sucking them in as you pulsed around them.

“i fucking love your tits. you’re latching onto my fingers,” it was like he could read your mind. smirking at your rampant, tiny mewls, he switched breasts, continuing the onslaught on your throbbing pussy. “let me focus on this boob, though. she needs love, too.”

“sisters, not twins, yeah? something like that,” he rasped through his teeth, lapping and sucking. your vision began to get hazy overcome by the torturous intoxication his touch brought, “you know what? doesn’t matter. your tits are gorgeous.”

he released his hold with a pop, leaning back to look at your disheveled countenance, exhaling raggedly. he placed his fingers in his mouth to relish in your sapid taste once more, while his eyes traced every inch of your body. your mouth hung in an O shape, lips plump and glossy. your eyes glossed over. your hair was frizzy and unkempt. you were nothing akin to the meticulously crafted countenance you slaved away for every day. he created a breathtaking mess out of you, which made him wretch with such a frenetic, venereal hunger.

he needed to fuck you stupid.

he needed to tear you apart.

“so pretty,” you murmured as he untied his loincloth, unsheathing his length in its entirety. the shaft same color as the rest of his body, a mixture of azure and sapphire stripes. it was unreasonably thick and lengthy, and had two veins leading to his blushing indigo tip. it throbbed as precum dripped down its side, and onto big balls. it was practically begging for solace in the form of your tongue swirling around it and hollowing your cheeks. “i want a taste.”

“you’re so sweet babydoll. but no,” his denial of your request was met with a disappointed whine and pouty lips. “i really should fuck that mouth of yours for all the shit you talk, but it can wait another day. i need to be inside you right now.”

his breath hitched as he watched his length disappear inside of you with a slicked sound.

“holy shit. you’re so fucking tight, jesus fucking christ,” jake seethed between breaths, panting. he dug his nails into your hips, writhing five hot points of pressure with his grip. his thrusts were slow but with intention, stretching your walls and hitting your core. you stared down at the way his thigh muscles tensed while he snapped his hips. you bit back a moan, your vision blurring slightly from the jolting motion, and your legs threatening to buckle. “dear god-fuck. oh, fuck. fuck, baby.”

“you feel so fucking good, and you’re taking my cock so fucking well,” he let one hand go and trailed it slow up your torso and stopped at your shoulders, quickening his strokes and making your eyes roll back. his fingers ghosted your neck with a dark laugh and a groan, “oh, fuck-what a good fucking girl. you like that, sweet thing?”

“jake,” you pleaded as he rutted into you, raking your nails across his back. you wrapped your legs around him, desperate for release. “this feels so good. oh, jake, ’m gonna…”

“oh god, i fucking love the way you say my name. go ahead and come for me, baby,” he buried his head into the crook of your neck, pumping deeper into you at an unadulterated and alacritous pace. jake pressed kisses to your neck while he felt you squirm and twitch on his length, muffling whines and moans. your glistening cunt tightened around him, like it was luring his cock further into you. he didn’t know how much further it could go. “make a mess all over my cock. it’s all yours, sweet thing. always has been. now use it like it is.”

it was hard for you to give any sort of intelligible vocalization (unlike pussydrunk jake, who seemed to be a little too loud, groaning fuck and i wanna cum over and over) while your eyelids fluttered and blood roared in your ears. you were having a sensory overload, and couldn’t help but drown in the pleasure. from the hickeys he pressed lightly over your taut collarbone with wet lips and the way his cock hit your g-spot, to all the husked whimpers jake let out while throwing his head back and the sound of skin hitting skin, you were in bliss. he was able to quell and rouse the insatiable ache that pooled low inside you, all at once. you were arched and unraveling with a splintering rapture, your own juices mixing with the warm, creamy seed that painted even the innermost corners of your walls.

“wow,” he looked down at your angelic, supine image through long eyelashes, panting. you relaxed your spine, coaxing his cock out of you gently. he was so desperate and unprincipled when it came to you that he probably would’ve stayed inside you the whole night. and you were far too exhausted for that.

“you sure as hell can have a taste of me now, holy shit,” his eyes were glued to your puffy cunt, watching his cum veneer it with a milky white. he swiped his finger in a swipe up your lips, holding his findings to your mouth. you licked it with a small mewl before contorting your face, bleating out a blegh.

“salty?” broad shoulders rose to the rhythm of a hearty laugh as you nodded, pushing the hair out of your face. “it’s cum, baby. i eat like a starved dog. don’t expect much next time.”

“that’s so tragic for me.”

“yeah, yeah. are you okay, though? do you need anything, sweet thing?”

“i need a hug,” you pulled him back towards you, and splayed your hands on his back. with a soft laugh, you traced the welts from your scratches before playing with his tousled mess of hair. the smell of sweat and a rich, earthy scent pervaded your senses as you meticulously picked out the stray blades of grass from each strand. “i’m sorry for fucking up your back.”

“what, are you kiddin’ me? don’t apologize. i’m gonna wear this shit like a medal. tell everybody my pretty girl gave ‘em to me.”

“you say that like you’re not gonna go back to your regularly scheduled ignoring y/n routine. i know you’ll leave eventually,” you huffed, slapping a hand on the newly damp grass to search for your chestpiece. he brought your hand back to his hair, kissing your forehead.

“and you say that like everything hasn’t changed. what’s the point of this if we part?”

“an extra notch under your belt, or something? i have not a clue, toruk makto. oh, congratulations on that, by the way,” you turned your head away from him to spare your tears. for some reason, it suddenly hurt to look at him. the last thing you wanted him to see was your hysterical sobs, after you just bore every other part of yourself to him. you’d have nothing else when he’d go.

he wasn’t really going to stay, was he? no one ever stayed for long. and it would be rather bold to think jake sully out of all people would stay for long, too.

you swallowed, clearing your throat. “i don't expect you to stay. i know i made a big deal about it, but...it really would make a lot more sense to marry neytiri.”

“oh, shut the fuck up," a playful eye roll. "i already told you, silly. i don’t want neytiri. i want you.”

“here-we can get up, and pretend that this didn’t happen, okay? we’ll say you got beat the fuck up by an animal, or something-”

“y/n,” he tilted you gently by your jaw, forcing you to face him. “i want you.”

“-and we can say you were brave and fought him because you’re the hero,” you choked out a sob. “you’re the hero, and i was just there as a witness. the nobody to scoff at; the outsider. i’m nothing to those people. i’m nothing compared to you.”

you were scared. truly, you did not want to see him go, but if you trusted him and loved him with your entirety, and one day he would no longer be there, it would break your heart into pieces. and your heart had already been broken quite enough. ah. so this was jake’s reasoning.

maybe you were the stupid one.

maybe you were both stupid.

yeah, definitely the latter.

“hey, hey, hey. enough of that bullshit. take a deep breath,” jake scooped you up slowly, repositioning you to cuddle in his lap. he tipped your head to lay a kiss against your lips, before pressing your head against his chest. you tried to sync your breathing to the cadence of his own chest rising and falling. he placed a caressing hand on the small of your back, rocking slowly. “i’m not scared anymore, and i’m going anywhere. i love you, y/n. you could never be nothing to me.”

you looked up at him, eyes widening. ‘i love you, y/n.’

there was something about the way he said it, paired with his fluttering, onyx eyelashes adorning gorgeously deep amber eyes. it was like a profound nocturne he sang just for you. there was something about the way he complimented you in a warm, sheltered whisper that tasted like a dulcet dream. it was a sonnet he read just for you. like a poet who lived and died for you.

just for you.

yet, foolishly-for moons, and moons, the poet restrained himself from telling you that your visage was his muse, due to his own trepidation. all he needed to do was trust in you, and let go.

maybe you did, too.

“you promise?” a gentle plead was all you could get out as he wiped your tears.

“i promise. and i’ll seal it with a kiss. or maybe a couple,” he brought your hand up to his mouth, kissing it gingerly. “you are my everything. and that is nothing to scoff at.”

home was not a city, or a state. home was not even a planet, like earth or pandora.

home was jake.

home was jake sully.

stupid, jake sully.

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