Jake Sully One-Shots

Wetter

It's the next day and you feel weird. Which is weird because last night, you had the best sleep you've had in literal months. Like, you woke up with saliva drooling down your chin, it was that good. Jake wasn't joking when he was talking about the so-called release. You tried not to think about it too much, knowing it'd just start you up all over again. But you thought about it. A lot.

The release did not help you. In fact, it increased your inability to focus because now, all you can think about is Jake and his dumb fucking fingers and their knee-buckling talent. It wasn't just a crush, it was a want— no, a need. You needed him. To do something more than just a few fingers in you. Even that had you passing out, and your curiosity dangerously widened when you think about what else he could do if it wasn't only fingers.

Your day's going to shit too. Your hair keeps on falling in front of your face, your loincloth just is not sitting right, and your leg muscles are achingly soar. You're sat against the same tree Jake had pushed you up into the other night, waiting for said man to come and begin your next lesson. You can't help but have the jitters. How's he gonna act? How are you gonna act? Jesus, you're not one to fumble, but you feel like you're going to be tripping over your words today.

You hear the same, impossible to miss ruffle of leaves and you're up onto your feet, flicking the hair out of your face and behind your ear. And then he's in front of you, hands behind his back like he's some kind of fucking businessman.

"You ready for some hunting?" his face is, once again, unreadable. You unwind your bow from your back. He watches the movement. He flicks his head in command and you bring your arms up, breathing in through your chest as you show your form. He stares for a hard five seconds, before walking around you. He hits at your back arm, it stays still. He pushes your stomach, you stay still but it isn't without a tiny wobble to your body. You hear a hum from the depths of his throat and you wait impatiently for his response.

It takes you entirely aback when he grabs you from behind, shoving your back to his chest and you drop your bow. It clatters against the rocky ground, Jake's hands placed firm on the body part just below your chest. "When I told you to not hunch, I didn't mean arch your fuckin' back instead. Straight, like what it is right now. Do you understand?" Jake storms, his breath hot against your neck. You nod.

"I said, do you understand?" he repeats, giving a jolt to your body and you bite back a gasp.

"Yes, sir." You whip out the words, hoping it's enough because it was obvious that he was not in a good mood and you'd hate to worsen it.

He backs away from you, a small gush of wind flying in from behind you, breezing at the skin of your back. "Good," he plains before walking off. You take it that he wants you to follow, so you quickly grab your bow and jog after him.

Not once does he turn around to look at you. Not even for a quick checkup, or a tiny stupid joke that has you biting on your tongue to stop from laughing. Not anything. Your feet are soar and your head hurts, and you can't wrap your head around why he has an even bigger wall around him than it normally is. It's not like you forced him to finger you, in fact he was the one who even brought the subject up so you're confused. And pissed.

But then he looks back at you. Just a tilt of his head to the side before his eyes drop to your chest and back up to your face. He turns his head back around. "Fix your clothes," he says. You look down, seeing that your top was dishevelled and low enough to see a great dip of your breasts. You pull it up with warmed cheeks, embarrassment and frustration mixing into one hot emotion and filling you up full.

Jake suddenly stops. You almost bump into his body, feet grinding in the tiny rocks on the ground as you pull yourself to a stop as well.

You move your body around to look at him from in front of you. "What?"