Do Um... Do You Have A Permanent Taglist? 👉👈 If You Do, Could I Pretty Please Be Added To It? 🥺😇

Same 😂

me, a supposed writer, when i can’t find the very specific scenario i made up in my head in any fanfic: am i- am i supposed to write it myself??

The Lie of Providence - Chapter 5 - Paths

word count: 2698

Pairing: Recom Miles Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi Reader Tags/Warnings: family bonding

“blue text” is spoken Na'vi. ‘Italics’ are thoughts.

[previous chapter] | 5 | [next chapter]

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When you and father return to the village, you find Mo’at already awake and preparing for her duties of the day.

“Mo’at, I must speak with you urgently.” Jake addresses her almost immediately.

“Good morning to you too ma Jake, ma [Y/N].” She chides him playfully, unawares of how serious he is. You greet her softly.

“Good morning Grandmother…” Her focus is immediately on you. She studies your face; that downcast gaze, the faint streaks left by tears.

“Come.” She commands and you two follow her into an unoccupied healer tent. She gestures you two to sit and she secures the entrance closed.

“Speak of your troubles.”

Once again you go through the motions of your nightmare. Again your tongue is held steadfast against mentions of the Human. You do not cry this time, far too drained now. When you are finished speaking you exhale deeply. Grandmother is quiet as she sits in front of you, studying you. Your father nervously shifts his gaze from you to her and back. He opens his mouth to speak but she swiftly lifts a hand to silence him, gaze never faltering from you.

Without a word she rises from her spot and swiftly leaves the tent. You look to your father confused, but he merely shrugs; equally baffled. Quickly she returns though, bringing with her a bowls, tools, and a satchel no doubt filled with various powders and plants.

She works without uttering a single word. She alights the small fire pit in the center of the tent space. You welcome the gentle heat as it washes away the morning chill. Your father moves to sit closer to you, putting a comforting arm around your shoulder as the two of you watch Mo’at work.

You watch with keen interest as she grinds dried plants into fine powders, quietly chanting as she does. She pulls the bone from her necklace and holds out her free hand expectantly to you. You understand immediately and offer a hand. She pricks a finger, putting a drop of your blood into her concoction. She grabs a handful of the powder and throws it upon the fire.

The flames roar to life suddenly, a dazzling dance of reds and purples awash the tent. You look at your arms and marvel as the colours are reflected perfectly in your pale tones. You wonder if other colours would dance so wonderfully on your skin too. Mo’at’s prayers are louder now as she gestures this way and that, a dance known only to her as Tsahik. Suddenly the fire burns dark red, bolder than fire should be, and immediately dies without warning. Mo’at gasps and inhales deeply.

She sits back on her haunches, hands folded in her lap.

“The Great Mother has spoken. She speaks of fire and brimstone. Of great shadows darkening the sky. The seas painted red with spilt blood. Of villages burning, our people dying. Of betrayal, vengeance, wrath…”

She looks up from the dead flames to meet your eyes.

“She speaks of you. A warning. Many paths lay before you. She did not reveal them to me. Only that you must choose the right one.”

You gulp. All of that sounded more ominous than helpful. In fact, the right path? What does that even mean? How are you supposed to know? What if you choose wrong? What then? Will you be the reason people die and villages burn?? Your suddenly filled with anxiety, such thoughts becoming too taxing for a 12-year-old girl.

“Hey Mo’at that’s enough! You’re scaring her!” Your father yells when he notices your laboured breath. There words become heated but you do not hear. Static fills your ears as you stare at your open palms.

You’re suddenly filled with a desire to see the Human. That cold gruff man. He’s been a constant in your life for many years now. Oh, you left him on that cliff. You hope he finds his way back to the waking world or where ever he comes from.

And before any of you realise it, you unwillingly fall into the embrace of darkness.

---

Miles Quaritch considers himself a sensible sort. Tough on his men, tougher on his opponents. Values loyalty above all else. Does not question authority, and does himself expect not to be questioned. That first day on Pandora, she made one thing very clear; this is not your home, and you do not make the rules here.

He wears his scars proudly, a reminder of what’s out there. Not just the animals and plants, but those savages too. Anything with a pulse is trying to kill you. Anything without a pulse can kill you too. But they have a job to do. Orders are orders and one way or another, they are going to get to that damn deposit of unobtainium.

The Avatar Program. What a fucking joke. Waste of time as far as he is concerned. Would be easier just to smoke out all the natives by force and blow the damn tree up. Minimal casualties of course, but such things are unavoidable. He suddenly wonders if you live in that big tree.

Urgh. He hates that he suddenly thought of you. Some native kid inhabiting a dream. He doesn’t like the lucid dreams. They feel far too real for his liking. He’d really like Jake to hurry the fuck up so he can be done with this planet and be on the next shuttle outta here. He can’t help his mind however, recalling the first time he had seen you. Jesus Christ you scared the shit outta him, looking like a damn ghost what with that pale skin and all. Turns out you were just a bratty kid who followed him everytime he dreamt these past few months.

He wonders then though, if his mind was playing tricks on him last time he dreamt of you. You looked, almost bigger? He’s not sure anymore. The low gravity of this planet must be fucking with his head and he can’t stand it. He sighs as he rubs a hand down his face. He’d love nothing more than to leave right now. Paz looks ready to pop anytime soon and he’d prefer if the boy was born on his real home planet, not this God forsaken moon. This was no place to raise a son.

Although he and Paz weren’t in a relationship per say, he knows he needs to do right by her and their son. So begrudgingly here he stays, following through with orders to the best of his ability, to ensure a future for his son, and to ensure he has a home to go back to once this is all over.

---

 Months pass and yet still you do not return to the shared dream. For this you are grateful as you have yet to experience another nightmare. You would be saddened to have not seen your human companion were this not the norm though; to go so long without another shared dream.

It might even take another year before he makes an appearance. But that is a worry for future you. Present day you has thought long and hard about Eywa’s less than straight forward answers. But as luck would have it, you have come up with a sort of plan.

As you recall, Eywa spoke of many paths to be laid before you, choosing the right one a crucial step toward the future. You wondered then, if perhaps this was hence tied to your future place in the clan; something not yet set in stone either.

Being the first born of Olo'eyktan, you had many choices in your future role to the clan, Leader of course being one of them. Alternatively, you could tutelage under Grandmother to become future Tsahik. This was once your mother’s destiny, but the war with the Sky People passed lead her instead down the path of the Warrior, to which she has since thrived. She is a remarkable huntress too, and you would be honoured to learn from her; another path you could choose.

There were also the Gatherers, experts in cultivating the land and foraging, making sure to take only what is needed to never upset the great balance. You could study craftmanship – becoming an expert in textiles, or one day having the privilege of using the Mother Loom. You could become a Clan Singer, studying under Ninat and learning the songs to bring joy around the cooking fires, or the prayers that are sung to honour the dead.

With so many ways you could fit into the clan, your genius idea was then to do it all.

Oh yes. You were going to study everything. Every last job afforded to you, you would give everything that you are and then some. Surely there could be no wrong path if you took EVERY path!

With this in mind you approach your parents and grandparent with the idea. Mo’at is apprehensive, becoming Tsakarem was a life long commitment. But as it would stand she doesn’t currently have anyone under her tutelage, so she relents. She places a condition though; were she to see a sign from Eywa regarding your future as Tsahik, she would end the training were it not to please the Great Mother. You agree wholeheartedly.

And so begins your training under dearest Grandmother.

And by the Great Mother is it exhausting. But equally as exhilarating. There is a thought in the back of your mind too, that if you can become one who interprets the Will of Eywa, there is the chance that your own future, and the dreams that may yet lie within, could become clearer to you. You could gain a better understanding of it all. Maybe.

Every morning then, you awaken before majority of the clan, and listen dutifully as Mo’at explains everything she does, and the reasons therein. She speaks of Eywa’s influence in the world around you, look for signs, the things others may not yet see. How she interprets these things. The rites that a Tsahik must perform for her people, the plants you use, the painting patterns, which paints to use and the colours and their meanings. There is even order in the burning powders for rituals and rites alike. It is a lot to take in. But you drink it up as though you are starved.

And when the sun approaches its zenith, you spend your time with Mother, she teaches you the ways of hunting. How to track the great beasts of Pandora, how to stealth through the forest but leave no trace behind. She begins teaching you to use a bow, and you and her are surprised to find you are remarkably proficient. She praises you greatly, and the two of you laugh over stories of how much she struggled to teach your father the very same weapon.

When the sun first kisses the horizon, you then spend time with Ninat, learning how to control your voice. Breathing exercise. How to hold notes and expanding your range. She tells you that you have a good voice, and will no doubt sing beautifully with time; if your own mother’s voice is anything to go by. With that in mind, you practice your singing in the evenings when Neytiri sings her personal songcord.

Your days are never the same though. Though each morning will always be spent with Tsahik, some afternoons you spend with father, he appoints himself to teach you the way of the Warrior. How to fight. And more importantly, how to wield a knife. Though he’s not ready to give you a proper blade yet, you are given a blunt wooden carving of one. Technique is of the most importance. The stances and body movements he teaches you, are Human techniques.

He appoints Tarsem, a young but extremely wise Warrior to teach you the native style of the clan. He hopes a broaden fighting style with multiple perspectives will keep you that much safer in the future.

Other evenings are spent with some of the Gatherers as they prepare food for the clan with the Hunters. You learn how to carve meat from bone, which parts of animals are for eating, the rest for healing or craftsmanship. There are some days where you join them out the forest, learning which plants are safe and which to avoid wholeheartedly. Which herbs mix well together, and which when combined make absolute and utter chaos.

The only downside to this sudden busy schedule, is you find yourself with far less time than before to spend with your siblings. It weighs heavy on your heart; especially when you have to refuse their offers to play when you have lessons.

You do the best you can to make time here and there. You are free though, well after the evening meal, when the sky is dark and full of stars. You sit with them and tell them stories of your day, the struggles of your training, the joys of doing things right. There is a big smile that spreads upon your face, ear to ear, as you regale them, almost nary stopping to breathe.

Then there are your days of Rest. One must allow oneself to replenish the energy that is borrowed from Eywa. These are the days you visit Hells Gate to spend time with Uncle Norm and Max catching up on your goings on. Spider is of course there too, eating up everything you see, wishing he too could be a part of your training.  By the Great Mother if you somehow become Clan Leader you will make sure he becomes an official member, and anyone who disagrees will answer to you.

---

2 Years pass. You are 15 now, almost a young adult. Your training still continues, though only to hone your skills. One development however, is that at some point you ceased your training as future Tsahik. Instead, Mo’at has appointed Kiri to be her new Tsakarem. And at 11 years old Kiri is more than excited. Any chance she can commune with the Great Mother she takes it. It means she get so communicate with her Birth Mother, Grace; a surprising thing to learn.

Your parents had waited until the older children, everyone except Tuk, were old enough to understand the story. How they found Grace’s avatar body pregnant without explanation, in its stasis pod. And how Kiri came into the world a little miracle, one they graciously took into their family to raise as their own. Now Kiri sometimes visits Hells Gate with Lo’ak in tow, the two of them growing closer to Spider as the years passed. But also it gives her a chance to see her other Mother, to watch videos of her talking about her love for Eywa and this world.

---

Hold your breath. Steady aim. Do not pull too tightly. Exhale on release. No sudden movements. Aim carefully and—the yerik just so happens to look up and immediately spots you, instantly scurrying off before you can let loose an arrow.

You cuss, growly in frustration of it all. This is not the first time something like this has happened. You are sure of it now. Being this pale against the backdrop of the forest’s deep greens and blues, you must stand out something fierce.

“Calm, [Y/N]. These things happen.” Your mother says and puts a comforting hand upon your shoulder.

“Sorry. I know. It’s just—incredibly frustrating.”

“What is, my sweet atokirina?”

You gesture vaguely up and down your whole body.

“This. This is. It makes me stand out. I can’t hunt like this Mama. They see me so fast…”

“Then we must try other techniques. From higher in the trees, or—”

“It’s not just the animals Mother…”

The words slip out before you even think. Damn. This wasn’t something you wanted to necessarily talk about. At least not yet. It was awkward. It was uncomfortable. And most of all, heart breaking. Neytiri scowls, not liking the implication behind those words.

“What do you mean, [Y/N]?”

You sigh deeply. ‘Eywa give me strength’. And so you decide to tell your mother, about your first heartbreak.

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A/N: Once again I'd like to give thanks to everyone that has liked and or reblogged this story. It really means a lot and is great motivation to keep going! I know you all must be frothing for the promised quaritch x reader content and I thank you for your patience. I promise it is coming! I just really wanted to get some world building in there; really delve into you as the reader and where you come from. I am eager to hear your thoughts. Let me know how ya'll feel about pacing and whatever else have you!

Also once again I apologies for any grammatical errors.

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Tag List: @mynameisbaby9 @nissilou @d4rno @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @perseny

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[previous chapter] | 5 | [next chapter]

Revenant - Prologue

word count: 940

Pairing: Colonel Miles Quaritch x Female! Wife! Reader Warnings/Tags: None

Chapter Summary: You are called in by your Handler to discuss something important.

[Masterlist] - [Next Chapter]

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Year 2144.

You fidget nervously with the frayed ends of your black dress. Though the mission was a success, and the target eliminated with no casualties, things did not happen as smoothly as they could have. There is no doubt in your mind this will come up in the report. And so close to reviews too.

Fuck.

Never has riding the elevator to the 47th floor felt longer. You let out a frustrated sigh, leaning your forehead against the cool glass. It does little to sooth you. You focus on the expansive vista of the city. Well deep into the night, the city still thrums with life. A sea of neon lights disappears into the horizon. Smog wafts its way through the tops of buildings, laying itself thickly upon the air. The city disappears as the elevator breaches the clouds.

You push yourself from the glass, facing the doors just as the elevator comes to a stop with a resonant ding.

Your face is neutral and your gait confident as you step forth, making your way through the lobby. Miss Halliday, the concierge, stands ready at the front desk.

“Agent Bloodthorn. A pleasure as always.” Her smile brings you a measure of comfort, sweet honeyed voice a balm to your nerves.

“Ophelia, good evening. Busy tonight?” You make light conversation, as you always do. You hand her the blood coin.

“No busier than usual mam.” She opens her mouth to speak further, but pauses, bringing her hand up to her ear. “Ah. The Handler will see you now. Suite 3 if you please.”

You give her a short nod and set a brisk pace to the suite in question. The sounds of your heels as you walk down the marbled hallway reverb far too loudly for your liking. All too quickly do you stand before the deep mahogany door. Your hand reaches for the golden handle and you enter with one fluid motion. There is no need to knock when you are expected.

Soft gold paints itself along the walls and furnishings from the lit fireplace. The floor to ceiling window at the end brings in the natural silver light of the moon. Your Handler stands at the window, hands clasped behind his back, gazing down at the city below; it would be beautiful on a cloudless night.

“Agent! A resounding success tonight my dear!” He turns to you, arms spread in congratulatory fashion.

“T-thank you, Handler!” Your body stiffens involuntarily at the praise, and you nervously pick at your ruined garment.

“Come now, [Y/N]; even after all these years, you’re still at it with the formalities with me. I’ve known you for nearly a decade and a half now child; I practically raised you!” He laughs heartily as he teases you.

“Sorry James, force of habit, haha…”

He invites you to sit in front of him; a singular leather chair awaits you. As you sit, so too does he, a large wooden desk separating you two. Fluidly he retrieves two crystal classes, a bottle of dark liquid you’re sure you won’t like. He pours you half what he pours himself, wordlessly placing the drink closer to you.

You nod in thanks, taking the glass in hand. With practiced movement, you gently swirl the liquid, giving it an experimental sniff. Where you take a small sip, James downs the contents in one gulp. You let out a small cough and return to the glass to the desk.

“On to business then.” He pulls out several manila folders. “Despite what you might think, the reason we called you in Agent, isn’t to discuss your mission tonight.” You sit up straight when he says this, leaning forward as you watch him unwind one folder.

“A new contract came in while you were out. And as far as I’m concerned, you’ll want to be a part of this.”

He places the open folder in front of you. Your eyes skim over the words. Avatar Program. Pandora.  

“This is…”

“Correct. Word through the network is your brother Tom’s been scouted by Grace Augustine herself. Should start his training next year.”

You had heard as much. Sweet Tom spoke animatedly about Grace and her work. He was so excited to start training, and even more excited to put his PhDs to work on the alien world.

“As it were, you won’t be needing any physical training. With your natural prowess, we believe you will be able to master piloting your avatar in no time; gain experience on the go as it were.”

“M-my own avatar? You’re giving me one of these?? Don’t they cost, billions, to make?!” You can’t help raising your voice, but you saw the numbers as you skimmed the file. Those were a lot of zeroes.

James smirks at you with a shake of the head.

“Leave the financial worrying to me Agent; that’s not your job.”

You let out a defeated sigh, but acquiesce nonetheless. You read further. The file goes on about the local clan of natives, the Omatikaya. It covers the basics of their governing structure, touching lightly on the culture. It speaks of the relationship formed by Grace, but also their inherent distrust of the RDA.

James places another folder in front of you. There is a polaroid; two blurry figures, one circled in red. You can at least make out that they are natives, both men, presumably.

“Your mission agent, is to eliminate this man.” He taps an index finger on the circled figure.

“Who is that?” You tilt your head as you try to make out the features of the man.

“That my dear, is Eytukan; the Clan Leader.”

---

[Masterlist] - [Next Chapter]

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What Do I Tell My Friends Family? Pt. 7

word count: 4611

Pairing: Recom! Miles! Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi! Reader Tags/Warnings: smut, light bondage, dirty talk, pregnancy sex, light degradation, p in v, family, fluff, feelings, crying, comfort, acceptance

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter took so long everyone! Hope you enjoy :)))

<previous chapter> | 7 |

The sound of rain pulls you from slumber. The air is thick and humid this morning. You breath deep, the salty air filling your lungs, wiping away the last dregs of sleep.

Your beloved is not beside you; ever the early morning riser that one. Neither are the twins nor Spider, you notice.

With a groan you slowly sit yourself up, having to exert more effort than usual. Once up, your hand moves to the swell of your belly. Shouldn’t be too long now before this one joins your ever-growing little family. You estimate you have about 2 months to go.

You open your home to allow the fresh air in. You reach out to gather some of the cool summer rainwater in your hands, splashing it on your face. You light a small fire in the pit, then set about preparing some meats to cook for breakfast. While those sizzle, you then prepare some fresh fruit that had been left outside your doorstep; the clan often leave you things as their way of helping, knowing you’re due almost any day now.

“Somethin’ smells good,” your ear perk up at the sound of Miles’ voice.

“Good morning, husband,” you greet but don’t turn around. You don’t have to, because before you finish speaking, his arms are already around you. His hot breath tickles the back of your neck as he leaves soft kisses there.

“How’re my best girls this morning?” his hands gently cup the swell of your belly, gently swaying the two of you to some unheard tune. He presses his chest to your bare back, the cool wet skin of his sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

“Oh? And how do you know we are not blessed with more sons?” You smile at him over your shoulder.

“Father’s intuition sweetheart,” He leans to the side presses a quick kiss to your lips. He pulls back, pressing the side of his face to yours as he peers over your shoulder as you continue preparing fruit.

You hum thoughtfully at his words. You wouldn’t mind having a daughter. Or two. Eywa have mercy if you have another set of twins. Speaking of your children…

“Where are the boys?”

“Spider took them swimming, they’re at the heated pools in the jungle.” You make a noncommittal noise in acknowledgement.

“You know…with the kids busy, we have a little time to ourselves right now…” his hands travel from your belly, slowly tracing the length of your arms, before his hands rest in the crook of your neck. He starts massaging the base of your head with his thumbs. Your eyes close at the pleasurable sensation, moaning unexpectedly.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” You tease him with a side eyed look. He grins down at you, eyes glazed over with desire. His gaze alone sends a pleasurable throb straight down to your core.

“Can’t help it darlin’. Seeing you like this, all big, belly swollen, and knowin’ it’s cuz of me? It does somethin’ to a man,” he bites the tip of your ear, and you let out an involuntary whimper; he knows all of your erogenous zones, and they become far more sensitive during pregnancy.

“Show me then my love, show me what I do to you.”

---

He has you trapped between his legs. Your back pressed to his chest as you lean back, head resting on his shoulder as you gasp between moans.

Your legs are draped over his thighs, keeping you spread. One hand gently massages the flesh of your breast, fingers occasionally pinching your pert nipple.

His other hand is busy at your core, 3 fingers deftly working their way in an out of your warm centre, making filthy squelches with each thrust. Your arousal coats his fingers and your thighs in inviting wetness. You are more than ready for him. But he loves playing with you, especially when you are at his mercy.

He removes his middle finger, bringing it to your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud in your slick. His finger glides over with ease thanks to your gushing nectar.

“Oh fuck…Miles right there—YES!” Your voice is breathless as you beg him for release; the pleasure coursing through you burning hotter as you approach the precipice of desire.

He returns his fingers to your inviting warmth, your walls sucking him in greedily. His fingers meet no resistance with how wet you are. He fucks his fingers into you faster this time, the palm of hand slapping against your clit, sending you further into the throws of passion. The symphony of your pleasure comes crashing down on you; the orgasm hitting you with a resounding crescendo. A rough press to your clit has you squirting much to yours and his delight.

“That’s it baby, you always perform so well for me.” Miles whispers into your ear, nipping at the nape of your neck. The feeling of your inviting walls clenching around his fingers sends blood straight to his hardened aching cock.

This was always the ritual. Always would he bring you to glorious orgasm, before chasing his own pleasure. Even if the two of you had an argument, falling into something in line with hate sex, he made sure to prepare you well. No matter what, you were always at the forefront of his mind.

You rest your entire weight against him, chest heaving with each laboured breath. Your skin is sticky with sweat, pussy throbbing, your release leaking all over the floor. You feel Miles’ hardness press into your lower back. He presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Do you need a minute?” He asks ever to tenderly.

“For you my love? Never.” You turn yourself as much as you can, arms reaching for him. He understands what you want, immediately turning you to him. He pulls your arms around his neck, securing his behind your back, then crashing his lips to yours.

The kiss is bruising. He sucks on your lips, pressing his tongue to yours, drinking you in greedily as though you were destined to fade. He swallows the moan you release into his mouth. His hand moves to the base of your queue and he pulls you back.

Your eyes are mystified, glazed over from residual pleasure, but alight once more at the promise you see in his own eyes. They are dark with want, pupils dilated with heady need. He licks his teeth as he studies your face, a smirk forming on his lips.

He stands up, pulling you with him. You watch him curiously as he moves elsewhere, searching; there is an amusing flick of the tail when he finds it. He holds the item triumphantly in the air before coming back to you.

Ah. Rope.

He always did love restraints.

“You trust me, sweetheart?” You scoff, almost offended he needs to ask you for umpteenth time.

“Since our first night in the Dream my love. Always and forever.” Your smile is matched by his own.

“Hold your hands up, behind your head.” You do as instructed. The rope this not too thick, black and woven with expertise only a machine could craft. It was something you brought with you all those years ago. You figured it would be most useful; nothing hand crafted had yet matched it in quality. What you hadn’t expected was for your mate to use it in such, creative ways. Not that you complain; you were of course more than delighted to engage in his fantasies.

He fastens your wrists together tightly. The length is then wound around your neck, dropping between your breasts before he loops it around your mounds. It lowers through your cleavage and around the back; always he keeps it away from your belly. He nudges your legs apart. The rope is then wrapped around each hip and thigh.

He moves behind you then, pulling your fastened hands behind his head. His hands roam over you in reverence, from the swell of your breasts, to the expanse of your thighs, not a single inch of skin is left unworshipped. He gives the rope a final tug to make sure all is secure.

He kisses the side of your temple, and you feel him take a hold of your queue, joining it with his own. The low guttural moan he makes sends a spark of pleasure down your spine, straight to your cunt. You feel yourself becoming slick once more, not that you need even more prepping in the first place.

He grabs the rest of the rope in his right hand, before wrapping it around your front, nestling his arm between your breasts. He lowers his left hand until it reaches the back of your knee. You know without having to be told, and lift your leg. He holds your leg up as far as you can stretch; you are thankful to be so pliable after all these years. The position has your now aching core wide open, glistening in the fire light as you leak down your own leg.

You let out a soft moan as you feel the hardness of his naked cock rub against your slit, coating himself in your prior release. He lines himself up with your entrance, his head just breaching the opening.

“I love you, [Y/N],” he whispers into your ear before he buries himself in you to the hilt with one hard thrust. The sudden stretch burns in a delightful way, you hope you never get used to his size. You can’t help the sudden yelp of moan.

“Fucking hell baby, you’re so wet. And it’s all for me. My perfect little mate, with her perfect little cunt.”

The filth of his words causes a whimper to fall from your lips, but your walls clentch the scorching member inside you. Miles lets out a shaking laugh laced with pleasure.

“Pretty little thing you are. Always. So. Fucking. Perfect!” Each word is punctured with a hard thrust in and out of you. His long cock caressing the soft spongy flesh of your walls, finding that special spot that drives you wild and beyond reason. Greedily your walls clamp around him, begging his release and your own.

“You like that, darling? You’re always such a needy bitch in heat. Like it when your mate talks to you like that, huh?” He pulls on the rope, tightening the restraints all around you. The skin under the rope becoming warmer and reddening. You let out a straggled cry, mouth agape, you let your head fall back onto his shoulder.

The pleasure mounting in you growing with every passing moment. Your hands find purchase on his braid, holding on tight. He groans into your ear, the sound somewhere between a moan and a growl. It reverberates through your bones, to know your mate is so in the throes of pleasure, stokes fire in your own belly; your arousal covering his own.

He grabs your other leg, and suddenly you are hoisted into the air. You yelp with surprise, but he holds you firm. His pace is relentless, still thrusting up into your welcoming heat. Such display of strength only spurs you on further. There comes a dull ache in your legs from the strain of being held up, but also the tightness of the rope cutting into your joints.

The pain and pleasure mix wonderfully, pulling you over the edge and into your waiting orgasm. You moan loudly, almost a scream, Miles’ name spills from your lips in high pitch mewls. He doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm to another, causing your to squirt all over his cock.

Tears flow freely from your eyes at the overstimulation, but by the Great Mother does it feel heavenly. Your ecstasy assaults him through the bond, finally sending him over the edge. His mouth bites down hard into your shoulder as he cums, shooting his seed up into your inviting warmth. Your walls clench him greedily, milking him till he is spent. There is a falter in his legs, you can almost feel the strain in his arms as he tries to keep you up as his pleasure wracks him to the core.

Finally though, he gently lowers you to the ground, falling onto his knees once your feet are firmly planted. You use him as leverage, lowering yourself before him. He rests his head to your shoulder, hands immediately finding your belly, resting them there.

Time passes slowly, filled with the smell of your sex and the sound of your joint laboured breaths. Slowly, Miles starts removing the rope from your person, throwing it somewhere out of sight once done. You collapse into his embrace once more, turning to your side as you lean against him. He cradles you in his arms, pressing delicate kisses to your hair.

You feel hot and sticky, but thoroughly fucked. You couldn’t be happier, tail wrapping around you both.

“You okay?” He asks, always, after any session in which he ties you up. His hands find your wrists, gently massaging the bruised skin.

“Always my love. Just a little worn out.” You close your eyes and lean into him more, never wanting this feeling to end. This peace and tranquillity.

---

Your mind drifts to the day, nearly 5 years ago, when you first landed on the island.

The Olo'eyktan and Tsahik came to greet you, as well as many members of the clan. They were surprised to see forest people; some never having seen any before. They gawked and stared unashamedly. They were more surprised though, by Spider’s presence. A Sky People child, painted with stripes, dressed in forest garb? What a spectacle!

The Tsahik had hissed when she caught sight of him, demanding that you take the Demon Child back from where you found it.

With great restraint you held your tongue, explaining instead that you cannot and would not go back. You wanted no part in the war with the Sky People, and neither did your mate. All you wanted was uturu. Some place far away from conflict. You explained that the Human boy, was in fact your mate's son, just without an Avatar body.

She was taken aback then, but grabbed your hand, noting the four fingers. She declared you too were of Demon blood, not true Na’vi. None of you were. Why should they let you stay? You looked to the Olo'eyktan then, pleading with your eyes. You gestured to Spider, saying that if he could adapt to live amongst Forest Na’vi, then you could all adapt, that you will adapt.

The Tsahik scoffed, walked around you three to inspect your tails. She stopped abruptly behind your mate, staring at his back. Her hand came to rest on the space between his shoulders. You saw the tenseness in his shoulders, wrapping his tail around his leg, hands clenched. He sends you a worried look, but you shrug, unsure of what she was doing.

You see her brows furrow. She removes her hand then, like she has been burnt, before returning to her mate’s side. She speaks low to him.

“That one, has been touched by Eywa.” The Olo'eyktan’s head shoots up as he stares at Miles, then looks back down to his mate for clarity.

“Touched?” He asks in shocked whisper. She clicks her tongue, annoyed at the events unfolding before her.

“Yes. Touched. Whether literal or spiritual, I cannot say for sure. But it is there. I feel it.” She squints at Miles, wholly distrusting of his person.

‘By the stars themselves, what could the Great Mother possibly have seen in this one?’ she thinks to herself.

“What of the boy? How will he live amongst us, if he cannot breathe our air?” The Tsahik gestures to Spider, who has been standing beside you awkwardly. You put a comforting hand around his shoulder, pressing him closer into your side.

“You need not worry. This Sky People-made mask will keep him safe.” You tap the mask gently. You’re not sure how much these people know of Human technology, but you don’t explain further. You send a silent thank you to Norm, Max and all the other scientists back home.

Just before your departure, you had decided Spider could not come with, intent to leave him behind, no matter how much it broke your heart. There would be no feasible way to replenish his oxygen packs supply. But Eywa smiled upon you. The humans, the engineers they were called, came forth with a new designed mask. It did not need oxygen packs like the old ones, instead filtered the air itself for safe breathing. It worked underwater too. It was sturdier too, strong as Na’vi bones they boasted.

Her eyes roam over you, then Spider, than up to your mate. She questions then, what skills you Forest folk could possibly bring to their shores. Your mate steps forward then, proudly stating he is a warrior, willing to fight anyone to prove his worth. The Olo'eyktan holds up his hand, stating that it wasn’t necessary, at least not yet.

The Tsahik’s eyes rake over you again, making you feel self-conscious. You see her gaze linger on your chest and your hips.

“You…Your patterns are of Forest folk, but your body is not.” It is more so a statement than a question, but demands an answer all the same.

“You are correct, Tsahik. My mother was true born Na’vi, of the Omatikaya clan. My father is…like my mate. Born of the Sky People.” She makes a disgruntled noise, but says nothing else.

After a moment of silence, she looks back up at her mate, and gives him the faintest of nods.

The Olo'eyktan announces then, that you three are welcome and are to be treated like their brothers and sisters. He warns them to be gentle with the Human, try not to gawk at him too much as there was still a village to look after. You thank him profusely, tears threating to fall at corner of your eyes. His smile is warm and welcoming, and the relief you feel is near palpable.

---

You and Miles decide to pack the food into a basket and bring it to the children. As the two of you are making your way along the beach to the path that would lead into the jungle, you are greeted by the sight of your two young sons running at you, Spider taking up the rear in a slow jog.

“Mama! Papa!” They yell in unison, arms outstretched as they crash into your legs.

“Good morning my little starlights! And to you too Spider, thank you so much for taking such good care of them,” You pick up Rawm as Miles does Taxun. Spider smiles up at the both of you, out of breath from the run.

“It’s no trouble [Y/N]. I already know what it’s like to have younger brothers.” He takes note of the basket Miles is holding, helping himself to the fruit inside. Your smile becomes a little sad at the memory of your family. You don’t have time to dwell on it though, as the kids notice Spider eating and immediately demand to be fed.

And so the 5 of you sit on the nearby rocks in the shade, enjoying the meats and fruits. It doesn’t last long, as the twins eat far too fast for your liking, before they start pulling Spider toward the ocean, wanting to swim in the cool water now that the sun was out. He of course obliges without fuss, and you giggle as you watch them splash about in the water.

The sun hangs high in the sky now, midday you presume. You enjoy the cool breeze kissing your skin, and the soft caress of your husband as he traces the glowing freckles on your back.

You are quiet, but there is gentleness in your eyes, a soft smile on your lips.

“Whatcha lookin’ at sweetheart?” Miles asks you, and you keep your eyes forward, smile widening.

“Our future.” Your voice is soft as the sand between your toes.

He hums in agreement, and kisses your check.

“Yeah…me too.”

---

You’re not sure how much time passes, perhaps not even an hour, when you here your name being called. You look to see the Olo'eyktan’s daughter coming to you hastily.

Your heart skips a beat at her urgency.

“[Y/N]! You must come quick! Follow me!”

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Did you not hear the horns?!” She asks as she speeds off, expecting you to follow. You look to your mate, both of you have a confused expression. Neither of you heard it, too engrossed in watching your family. The kids probably didn’t hear anything amongst their own yelling and playing.

Quaritch whistles to the kids, who all immediately cease their frivolity, and run back to you two. Miles wordlessly grabs both twins in his strong arms, and you hand Spider the now empty basket. You make your way back as fast as you can waddle, explaining to the kids along the way.

---

You see an unexpected amount of people gathered at the front beach, though you can’t quite make out what’s going on.

You hear the whispers and murmurs of the clan, strangers they say; visitors.

You and Miles share a concerned look as you make your way forward. A sound carries on the wind, a bellow of a creature; and you know that sound anywhere.

Ikran.

Your heart starts pounding in your chest, your mind running a mile a minute. You don’t even think as you start forcefully pushing your way through the crowed, flanked by Miles still holding the twins and Spider.

“What’s going on Papa?” Rawm asks, clutching onto his father tightly.

You don’t hear his response as you finally make your way out front, seeing the backs of your Olo'eyktan and Tsahik.

You vaguely note the 5 ikran poised on the sand, looking none too pleased.

And when you see the Na’vi visitors talking to your Olo'eyktan, tears well in your eyes, and you let out a straggled cry.

“Sanctuary for my—” The visiting man's voice cuts short when he hears your cry, immediately finding your gaze. His eyes widen at the sight of you, flicking to your swollen belly for a split second, before coming back to your face. He lets out a shaky laugh, a grin splitting his face.

The woman at his side looks at him confused, before following his line of sight. Your eyes meet, and she falls to her knees, covering her mouth as she cries, tears streaming down her face.

You approach them slowly, not caring for the stares of the clan, nor the poignant look Tsahik Ronal is sending you.

You stand before your parents.

“Hello mother. Hello father. Oel ngati kameie.”

Neytiri jumps to her feet, wrapping in her arms tightly. Her cries burn your ears but you don’t care. They are matched only by your own. You feel your fathers arms wrap around you two, and you swear by the Great Mother, that this was perhaps the first time you’ve ever heard him cry. Your four siblings rush at you too, scrambling to get you into an embrace of their own.

You hear the tell-tale sigh of your Tsahik, and the low chuckle of Olo'eyktan Tonowari.

“I guess you have a lot of catching up to do, no?” He turns to the clan and addresses them. “Treat Jake Sully and his family as our brothers and sisters, just as you did with those who came before.” He calls for his eldest son and daughter, instructing them to teach Jake and his family just as they had taught you.

Your family untangles from one another, though your parents still have their hands on your shoulders. You take each of their hands in your own.

“[Y/N], I—”

“Hush, mother. Before you say anything, you too father, there is someone, two actually, you should meet first…” You pull them towards Miles. You turn your head to your siblings, gesturing with your head for them to follow too. You feel them tense, and a falter in their step. You gently squeeze their hands, releasing a shaking breath when you feel them squeeze back.

“Oel ngati kameie, Jake and Neytiri.” Miles says with perfect annunciation. They don’t say anything, but gesture to him with their hands. They are far too in shock, eyes instead focused on the two boys in his arms.

“Mom, dad, siblings…I’d like you to meet my sons, Rawm and Taxun,” you gesture to your boys accordingly, letting go of your parents hands, nervously threading your own fingers together in front of you.

You hear your siblings greet them with little waves, introducing themselves as their aunts and uncles. The boys are shy, and barely greet them back with tiny voices. Kiri runs to Spider, pulling him into a wordless hug as she cries into his shoulder.

“Hey kiddos, it’s nice to meet you. I’m your grandpa, Jake,” You father smiles at them big and goofy, tail swaying with joy.

“Pa Jake?” Rawm asks, bringing tears to the edge of your fathers eyes. He lets out a shaky laugh and nods.

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m your mama’s papa. Just like this man, is your papa.” He pats Miles on the shoulder, and the two share a look. You can see so much unspoken words exchange between them, Miles lowering his ears submissively. But your father gives him a kind smile. You can see in your mates eyes, even as he returns the smile, there is a hint of guilt there.

Your son surprises you then, reaching for your father, who happily takes him into his arms, smile widening.

You look to your mother then; filled with trepidation at her reaction. All of your anxiety shatters when you see her smile your boys.

“Hello little ones. I am your grandmother Neytiri. Your mama’s mama…” She wipes away a stray tear, and happily takes Taxun when he reaches for her.

She gently rocks him, patting his back with practiced ease. Your heart swells at the sight of your parents holding their grandchildren.

Neytiri’s eyes lift from your son then, to meet your mate’s gaze head on. She stares at him, studying him, but he doesn’t break the eye contact. She closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath, exhaling through her mouth. She opens her eyes and fixes him with a determined look.

“Oel ngati kameie, Miles Quaritch.” She nods to him, hand gesturing towards him in the proper greeting. “Thank you…for taking care of my daughter.”

His eyes widen at her words, and she smiles up at him, though it is small, as she hugs your son to her a little more tightly.

“Oel ngati kameie, [Y/N], my daughter…I am so happy, to see you, alive and well.” She touches a hand to your belly briefly, before returning to pat your sons back. “You too Spider…I am, pleased, to see you are doing well.”

Spider gives her a shy smile and a nod. Your brothers flank him, poking his sides and remarking on his larger frame, toned by years of swimming.

“Oel ngati kameie, mother, father, siblings. Welcome to our family.”

Everyone comes together, embracing in one giant hug, with you and Miles at the centre.

“Wherever we go, our family is our Fortress.” You father says.

“Sullys stick together,” Neteyam adds.

“And now, Quaritches too.” Your mother says, and with that, the dam breaks.

You cry tears of joy, safely nestled in the embrace of your family.

You couldn’t be happier.

End

---

<previous chapter> | 7 |

Author's Note: And that's a wrap people! Originally this was gonna end with Quaritch's "yeah me too" on the beach. But then it occurred to me, people would probably want a reunion with the family, so here we are!

Thank you so much to everyone who's followed along with what was supposed to be a horny one-shot that then turned into a mini series XD I look forward to seeing ya'll in my future works, so stay tuned!

---

Tag List: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @lvangel98, @rsclopez, @onlyreadz @manymaria111, @kristeen31xxx @mechformers @olivia-the-weirdo @essenceinpink @villirios @rededfoxy @brutecuteness @perseny @fandom-garbage @ttreader @hihhasotherfixations @angel-of-silver369 @royallaufeyson @saltedcoffeescotch @the-hufflebird-girl @ding-dong-big-schlong @netherklutz @moneyoverl0v3 @@episodic8peace @touchedflowers @sarcasticrandy @lov3rluna @totesnothere04 @ab-haya @me-on-pluto @ducks118 @grimistangel @lovekeeho @itsyoboysparkel

Bish wtf that was beautiful 😭😍🥰

— 𝘨𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘢𝘳, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳

the lowdown — neytiri’s his first love, but you’re his forever…he swears.

the who — jake sully x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 3.2k

the tags & warnings — possible language, she fell first / he fell harder, first love / last love, arguable tension

the notes — based on this request ! ideally this takes place before anyone dies & everyone is happy :) 

masterlist

You and Jake have always been a sticky situation.

Because it didn’t always start with the two of you. At first, he had eyes for someone else, could only bear the thought of being with one person in the whole of Pandora, and that came in the form of the clan’s most important daughter. And you watched from the outskirts, watched as lessons in life turned into lessons of love.

To be frank, you don’t know when the adoration started, when the feelings began to bloom. Your heart was arid territory, but the seeds were planted and the roots were festering.

Maybe it was his dedication to the people, spirit one with the village. He was allegiant to Pandora down to every last blade of grass, every leaf, every insect. And he was kind, offered his heart and full efforts to every endeavor.

You admired him silently, learned to love him quietly, even as the passion between him and Neytiri swelled until it was ready to burst.

You hadn’t really realized that he’d noticed you until one day nestled among the trees.

“Is this where you disappear to everyday?”

Your neck swivels so hard, you almost get whiplash. The project you’re working on, another satchel to replace your own, bunched tight in your fists as your eyes scan the expanse of forest floor wildly.

Jake stands a few meters below, hand resting casually on the hilt of the dagger strapped across his broadening chest.

All that sounds in the quiet between you is the bobbing of your throat as you swallow, eyes wide and unblinking.

“You don’t really talk much, do you?”

You suppose you don’t, not when you’re used to blending into the edges, spending your days lounging around village grounds and finding odd and ends to tend to.

“Nothing?” Jake presses, weight shifting as he peers up at you.

“Not everyday,” is your only response, still unmoving from your perch on the branch.

Jake only nods, conversation coming to a painfully quick lull.

“What are you up to?” he prods, shifting again.

“A bag.”

Your cheeks are warm under his unrelenting gaze, mouth dry because you’ve spent months admiring him from afar, watching him slowly meld into becoming one of the people.

“A bag,” he repeats.

You nod.

He lets out a puff of air that sounds an awful like a humorless laugh and he scratches the back of his neck. He’s folding his cards first this time around, unsure of how to trod such uncertain territory with you.

“See you around, ________,” he says, giving you a playful salute as he peels away.

Your heart skips as he saunters off, timbre of his voice sweet around your name.

Jake continues to find you in that spot often.

Graduated from holding brief conversations from different elevations to propping against adjacent branches enjoying your company, he comes to find out that you're awfully shy. 

Painfully so. But when he makes you laugh, and you timidly smile with full heart, he feels your facade crumbling.

And as chance meetings after duties turn into promises, you can’t help but wonder what's changed. Every moment with you means a moment unspent with his lover. It makes equal parts pride and dread swell in the pit of your stomach.

Whispers about him ripple through the village, that he’s learning quickly, catching onto the way of the people with great ease. There’s talk of a ceremony, of accepting him as one. It makes something sour, bitter, curdle inside of you in the ugliest way possible.  

Because a ceremony means selection and selection means solidifying the relationship he has with the leader’s daughter. It means no more limbo and the time you’ve spent trying to guard your wanting heart is shot to shit. 

It considerably dampens your mood, something that takes Jake a mere glance over your body language to read. 

“Something’s bothering you,” he observes, head tilting to the side. 

You bite the inside of your lip, eyes golden and gooey. They’re the only thing that betrays the stoic expression that colors the carve of your jaw and the curve of your cheekbones. 

It takes every ounce of effort to not visibly melt at the way you carry yourself. 

He doesn’t know when it started with you, how you could have possibly caught his attention when all you did was wash out in the background, bleed through the edges. But you had. Had captured his attention enough for him to second guess such a fleeting barrage of emotions when it came to the future tsahik. 

Neytiri was a force to be reckoned with, but you were a gentle gust of embracing wind. Jake didn’t feel any pressure with you, didn’t feel like he was wearing the skin of someone else. He felt like him. 

“Our time will end,” is all you say. 

It takes him a moment, but he notices the slick of your lashes, the almost imperceptible hiccup. 

His five-fingered hand cradles your chin, and for the briefest of breaths, you want to ease away, want to put as much distance as you could between you and the very one who has the power to nurture and shatter your heart all the same. But something glimmers like liquid gold in Jake’s eyes and you crumple.

“Why is that?” he whispers. “What makes you say so?” 

“Do you think I’m a fool?” you ask.

There is no malice in your tone, only a lingering thread of defeat. 

“Far from it,” Jake answers, nudging you to meet his gaze when your eyes flicker away. “You are the most intelligent and capable person I know.” 

Your breath hitches and you swallow down a petulant rebuttal. 

“I hear what they say about you, Jake Sully,” you say lightly. “They want to make you one of us.” 

A gentle smile twitches upon his lips, something triumphant flickering over his features. 

“You against it?” he asks, eyebrows quirking.

You shake your head, fingers wrapping around his wrist to guide his hand from your face. When you try to pull away, he threads your digits together, tugging you so that you shift closer to him. 

“You do great things for the Omatikaya,” you say. “They are very proud of you.” 

“Are you?” he presses. 

“Am I what?” you ask, voice caught in your throat. 

Jake draws you impossibly closer. You can make out the constellations of blemishes on his face, the smattering of glowing freckles across the expanse of his muscled chest. 

“Are you proud of me?” he wonders. 

It’s a loaded question, one that makes a shiver rip down your spine and your cheeks to warm. 

Of course you were proud of him. You’d watched him from afar for far too long, had seen every accomplishment, every failure. Had seen the spectrum of his emotions, every jubilant moment and bouts of discouragement. 

“Yes,” you answer simply. “Very.” 

The smile that cracks the lush of his mouth makes you swallow hard. 

“Good,” he hums. “I’m glad.”

He’s searching your face, eyes glazed as he takes in all of you before him. The silence is thick, pierceable by the bluntest of edges. When you show no intentions of breaking the quiet, Jake speaks again. 

“Now tell me,” he says, voice rumbling in his chest. “Why is our time ending?” 

Your lips purse and something like annoyance shutters over your pretty face. 

“The tsahik’s daughter has made her intentions with you very clear,” you say, trying to sweeten the acidic words on your tongue. “You cannot waste anymore moments with the likes of me.” 

Jake bites back the widening of his smile, but he can’t help it, not when this encounter solidifies every suspicion he’s had about you and him. 

“You’re right,” he says simply. “Neytiri’s asked her parents for their blessing for us.” 

You try not to let the disdain cloud your features, try to tamp down the twitch of your frown, but you can’t get anything past him, not when Jake’s favorite subject to study is you. 

“I’m sure they are delighted,” you respond, making a move to peel your fingers from his. 

Your chest is tightening and your vision is clouding. 

His grip squeezes and the film of tears that sheen your eyes makes his heart go soft. 

“They do approve,” he adds, pausing to pick his next words carefully. “But…”

Your gaze flicks to meet his again, heart stuttering when you find that his gaze hasn't left your form. His eyes are mapping every one of your features, pausing a moment too long on your lips. 

Your cheeks blaze.

“But?” you fill. 

“I refused,” he replies thoughtfully. 

He could laugh, the way your lips part, brow bones shooting up as your eyes blow wide. 

“Why would you–” 

“My heart belongs to someone else,” he finally admits. “It has for a long time and it was stupid of me to think that I could ignore it.”

“Oh—” Your breath hitches. 

“But I can only act on my heart if she’ll have me,” he says, searching your eyes. 

“Do you think she—” 

Jake breathes out a laugh, tugs you so that your front presses against his, close enough to feel the fan of his breath against your lips, to smell the delicious spice of bathing herbs clinging to his balmy skin.

“You’re torturing me here,” he groans, throwing his head back. 

You see the way his Adam's apple bobs and you fidget in your seat. 

“I—”

“Jesus Christ, love, put me out of my misery and tell me you’ll have me, please.”

You only manage a noise of surprise before his hand cups the back of your neck to guide you forward, lips pressing desperately against yours. His mouth is warm and when he leans into you, you taste the sweetness of berries on his tongue. 

His hands wander, gliding over the smooth expanse of your flesh like he’s committing every curve and edge of your body to his memory. 

“Wait, wait,” you whisper breathlessly. “What about Neytiri? She… She loves you.” 

Jake’s dazed, disoriented because the taste of you makes him far more delirious than he’d expected. 

He presses his forehead against your own. 

“She’s got nothing on you, angel.” 

Everything shifts on its axis after that, but there’s one thing in particular that remains—the seed of doubt that had rooted that sunny day under the canopy of the jungle’s oversized leaves. 

Perhaps you’re being cynical, a little paranoid, but Jake’s yet to claim you before Ewya despite officially becoming one with the people. And you could stomach it, the idea that maybe he’s just prioritizing a smooth shift into life with the clan, but lately he’s been sneaking around, blowing you off. 

You don’t want to give that niggling feeling of insecurity any stock, not when he’s so lovely to you when you two are intertwined, but you happen upon them by chance and you feel stupid. It was silly, really, to expect Jake to cut ties so abruptly when his fickle heart used to all but thrum for the future tsahik. 

They laugh on the embankment, sitting a little too close for comfort.You want to look away, tell yourself that you’re being too much, but he hesitantly tucks a braid behind her ear and your breath hitches in tandem with hers. 

You can’t force yourself to expel the breath in your lungs, eyes locked on their figures like your pupils are tethered. 

You wish you didn’t stick around, wish you’d just continue on in ignorance, because as Jake leans to give Neytiri a closer look at whatever he’s toying with in his hands, the distance starts closing between them. 

They look like they belong together, two bodies that perfectly fuse.

“Oh—” You hadn’t meant to make a sound, wanted to escape quietly, but just as easily as the breadth between the two of them had closed, a chasm forms between their lithe bodies. 

“________?” he calls, voice layered with alarm. 

You turn on your heel, pushing through the curling foliage with blurring vision. 

“Hey, ________, wait!” he calls out, feet splashing from the water as he climbs from where he’d been sitting with his ankles plunged beneath the surface. 

When his footfalls fast approach and his fingers wrap around the width of your forearm, you quickly dash away the pooling tears before turning to face him head on. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispers, cupping your rounded cheeks in his palms. 

His fingertips glide down the length of your neck, brushing over your shoulders as he examines you. 

You shake your head quickly, forcing down the insecurity that bubbles hot like magma under your burning skin. 

“Nothing,” you say, clearing your throat before finally meeting his worried gaze. 

“Oh, come on,” he sighs, pushing the hair from your face to take a better look. “It’s just me, ________. You can tell me the truth.” 

You lick your drying lips before gently breaking away from him. 

“It’s nothing, Jake,” you reassure him with a small smile. “I’m just being silly.”

He opens his mouth to protest, taking a step towards you. 

“Jake Sully!” Tsu’tey’s voice thunders through the forest as he claps a hand down on his comrade’s shoulder.

Jake turns a warning eye towards him, mutters that now isn’t the time as he swats his hands away, but when he turns to face you, you’re gone. 

You feel guilty. 

Guilty because you fear that you’ve blown things way out of proportion, guilty because Jake’s reserved to giving you your space after another failed attempt at coaxing you from your shell. And infinitely so because he holds you close, when your breathing is steady and you drift in and out of sleep. You hear him, like the gentlest of lullabies. 

I love you. 

It haunts you, those three words. And you guess you’re no better than him. The weight of solidifying your union before Ewya is a heavy one, Jake knows this. But such human words weigh the same to him. And you know that to hear such a lofty sentiment rasp from your soft voice is all he could ever want. 

“He is at his wit’s end, you know?” 

You pause your laundering, allowing your loincloths and woven tops to sink back to the shallow bed of the river. When you crane your neck to find the source of the voice, you’re surprised to find Neytiri leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree. 

Your response is delayed. 

“...Huh?” 

“Jake,” she says simply, and your cheeks warm. “You worry him.” 

You turn back to your chore, spine stiffening when something rustles and Neytiri moves to sit next to you. 

“May I?” she asks, reaching for one of your intricately beaded tops. 

“Okay,” you whisper, unable to meet her sharp gaze. 

“I was hurt when he denied my parent’s blessing,” she says casually, like the thought alone doesn’t make your heart ache for the tsahik’s daughter. You can’t help it. “But I wasn’t surprised.” 

Your head snaps up, meeting her eyes reluctantly. 

“When I first brought him back to the village,” she says, wringing the corded fabric. “You caught his eye, but you didn’t even glance his way.” 

And truthfully, you hadn’t. Dreamwalkers were trouble and you had no intention of ever crossing paths with him. But then you began to see more and more of him, began to feel the weight of his presence on the village and you couldn’t help but give into the fall. 

“He started asking about you,” she laughs quietly. “Every time he’d see you. Said that you never paid him any mind no matter how close he got.” 

You roll your lips nervously, watching the way she reaches for another one of your garments and washes with increasing frustration. You almost miss the tears welling in her eyes. 

“I wished for so long that he would let it go, let you go, but you have a hold on him, ________,” she rasps. 

You blink in disbelief, shaky fingers reaching to touch her own. 

Her face tilts towards yours and her grip on the fabric loosens. 

“Jake Sully is a good man,” she whispers. “Don’t waste something good because you are scared. It will not only be a disservice to him or me, but yourself.” 

You swallow, nodding slowly. 

“I’m–” you take in a shuddering breath as your head bows. “I’m sorry.” 

A wet hand comes up to your cheek. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Neytiri coos. “Just be grateful. Be fearless. It is Eywa’s will.” 

Jake almost thinks you’re a vision when he sees you making quick strides towards him. He breaks away from the circle of villagers just as you press yourself into his chest and those not privy to his relationship with you watch with widened eyes. 

“Hi,” he breathes, combing his fingers through your hair. “Hi.” 

You don’t say anything, arms looping around the narrow of his waist as he throws an apologetic look over his shoulder and walks the two of you towards a quiet area outside of the circle. 

“Everything alright?” he asks, trying to peel you away from where you’ve buried your face in his chest.

You mumble something unintelligible, something that makes his ears prick hard to hear, but your cheeks are hot and you aren’t sure if you can handle seeing his softened eyes as you utter the words. 

“What?” he asks, pulling away enough to see the flush across your face. 

“Said Iloveyou,” you murmur. 

He freezes, like his brain is short circuiting when he pieces the words together. 

“What?” 

You steel your nerves, suck a deep breath into your lungs, and find his sunny eyes.

“I love you, Jake,” you say shakily. “I love you and—”

The laugh that leaves him is giddy and you have half the nerve to melt, but he’s kissing you for the first time since that day in the forest and you’re putty in his hands. 

“Wow,” he whispers when you break away to stand on your tiptoes and wind your arms around his neck. “I didn’t think…”

You’re kissing him again, fervently, like you’re trying to make up for lost time and he can’t help the tickling behind his navel or the heat that starts from his toes and burns all the way up his chest. 

Your skin is plush under the pads of his wandering hands and those three words, spoken into the hum of the surrounding jungle is all the confirmation that he needs that it’s you and him forever. 

“Wait, wait,” he sighs breathlessly. “I have–” 

A hand snakes between your bodies, fingers digging into the pouch strapped across his broad chest.

You watch with viscous eyes as he pulls what looks to be a gilded ring, tiny in circumference. Two pieces of thin vine cord through either side, beaded with pearlescent stones and smooth gems. 

“I…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck as you fall back on the heels of your feet, arms loosening from around his neck to give him the room to hold it up to you. “It’s one of the only things I care about from Earth.” 

Your browbones twitch. 

“The ring’s been in my family for a while,” he says gently. “But it’s probably too small and I know that Na’vi don’t wear things on their fingers and–” 

“It’s beautiful, Jake,” you say softly, palm pressing against his chest. 

He grins, sliding the heirloom up your wrist to rest snugly around the flesh of your bicep.

“Perfect,” he murmurs to himself. 

And when your eyes swing from the gift to meet his gaze, you find him already staring down at you tenderly.

“I don’t…” you trail off, suddenly shy under such intensity. “I don’t have anything for you.” 

Jake barks out a laugh, corner of his lips quirking up in a lopsided smile as he cups your face in his hands and brings his forehead to yours. 

“Don’t need to give me anything,” he says quickly, breaths warm and lips a hairsbreadth from your own. “Just tell me you love me again, that’s enough.” 

Your face is indescribably warm under his cool touch. 

“And maybe another kiss,” he adds coyly, then a hand skims over the small of your back, dangerously close to your tail. “Or more…if you want.” 

neng © 2023

taglist; @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @junieswrlds , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @neteyamo , @fanboyluvr , @mazemymirror , @theycallmesia , @girlpostingsposts, @athenachu , @hiya-itsamber , @morks-watermelon , @sanfransolomitatm , @lovedbychoi

@bywonki I'm sorry babes! I promise, I'll write fluff for him some time!

Resplendent

word count: 1220

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Female! Metkayina! Na'vi Reader Tags/warnings: Fluff, angst, bittersweet, established relationship, adult reader, adult Neteyam, no smut Summary: Neteyam quietly watches you from the shore as you perform a ritual dance in the water, to the utter delight of your daughters.

Author's Note: Set some time after the big battle. Also moved those events further ahead. You and Neteyam are mated and have children before the RDA attacks the reef. Got inspired by the song~

Sa’nu - mum, mommy Tahni - bioluminescent freckle

Close your eyes.

Deep breathes.

Remember the moves.

Remember the words...

Your heart thrums in your chest almost painfully. You take a deep, slow, calming breath; placing a hand over your heart.

“Sa’nu? Are you okay?”

You open your eyes, looking down to meet the gaze of your youngest daughter. The cool water of the sea comes up to her neck. Sweet thing. You told her, she and her sister could watch you from the shoreline. But they were persistent to be as close to you as possible. The water barely reaches your hips.

You offer a soft smile, reaching down and affectionately stroking her hair.

“I’m okay…Don’t worry my little star. Mommy’s just nervous.” The 5-year-old beams up at you with a toothy grin. Your 6-year-old beside her pats you on the arm.

“You practiced aaaaall the time! You got this.” She offers you her own encouraging smile. You give her an appreciative nod before facing the shoreline once more. You return your face to neutrality, closing your eyes once again.

You hear the disturbance of the water as your daughters move a bit to the side to give you more space to move.

With one final calming breath, you open your mouth and begin the song cord of your family.

---

Neteyam stands under the shade of a nearby tree on the shoreline. His arms are crossed as he watches the three of you.

The evening breeze carries your voice to him. He stands up straight when the sound hits his ears.

When you sing, it reminds him of the melody of birdsong in spring. No matter how many years may pass between you two, every time he hears you play the instrument of your heart, he feels like he could fall in love with you all over again.

He takes in your form as you start swaying in the water, admiring you from top to bottom.

Your hair, thick and long, reaching all the way down to your knees; you and your sisters spent what must have been hours, braiding it into the intricate patterns now adorning your head.

Even from this distance, he can still make out the faint markings of the tattoos framing your face. Though today you also have a thin line of white painting the centre of your face. You could have mud smeared all over and he would still find you to be the most beautiful woman; you have him convinced you are blessed by Eywa herself.

You arms move slow and with purpose through the air; attuned with the words as they fall from your lips.

Your soft lips.

How he wishes he could kiss you right now.

You dip down, submerging your arms into the water. In one fluid motion, you rise back up to your feet, the motion you perform with your hands and arms bring water up with you as you rose. Your arms are stretched out to your sides as you pirouette.

Neteyam’s heart skips a beat as he watches you, and it’s as if time itself slows, just so he can drink in the beauty of your very being.

With your back to eclipse, your front is cast in shadow.

The water falls around you in a shimmering curtain of rain. The last light of eclipse hits the smooth stones woven into the fabric on your chest; causing a cascade of colours to dance across your skin. And when the sun disappears, your tahni come to life like the brilliance of dawn.

It’s one of his most favourite parts of your body. Though you had the scattered stars as did all Na’vi, for reasons he attests only to being blessed by Eywa, you have thin bioluminescent swirls weaving itself around your arms, chest, and all down your legs. To him it’s like a faint galaxy glittering in the night.

He recalls fondly the memory of him knowing each and every star on your body intimately.

And in the fading light of the day do you shine before him. Resplendent as you are in the day, so too will you dazzle the world around you in the darkness of the approaching night.

His heart throbs something fierce when you open your eyes after dipping into the water once more. Even behind the curtain of water, or the netting of the fabric draped over your head, your eyes glow with a fierceness he knows all to well. It pierces his very soul, a warmth sweeping over him.

He drinks you in more as you bend your form this way and that. He wishes he knew the intricacies of your dance; understood what each fluid motion meant, the significance of each swish of your tail, or the ways you angle your hands and bend your fingers.

You close your eyes as you near the end of the cord song.

As you perform another twirl, you playfully swat the water with your thick tail, splashing your daughters.

Their uncontrollable gigging brings a smile to your face. You open your eyes as you continue to dance, giving them a loving look. They’re splashing each other with reckless abandon as they try to imitate your moves. You can’t help the unrestrained laughter their antics bring you.

Neteyam laughs quietly to himself as he watches his girls playfully flay about in the water. Every day since their birth he’s given thanks to both you and the Great Mother for blessing him with such miracles. He hadn’t thought it was possible to love something as much as he loved you.

He feels a stray tear fall down his cheek. But he doesn’t move to wipe it away. Instead he continues to smile as he watches your song and dance coming to its conclusion.

You turn to face the horizon, and he’s gaze drifts to his girls.

They’re singing something he can’t quite make out, but he loves the sound nonetheless.

And when their eyes meet his, finally noticing his presence, they wave at him wildly, giggling all over again.

His smile grows wider, and he offers them a small wave back.

---

One final pose, and you hold the final note of your song, eyes still closed. You hold that note until your lungs and throat burn.

You hear the excited cheers of your daughters as they shower you with praise. Your breathing is laboured as your heart pounds in your chest, but you offer them a bow and a small smile of gratitude.

You turn yourself to the horizon before you finally open your eyes. The ritual dance has come to and end.

You rub the cool ocean water on your cheeks, in your neck, and down your arms; all in an effort to cool you down from your laborious activity. You breath deep in from the nose, and slowly exhale through your mouth, calming your rapid heartbeat.

The girls still giggle beside you, resuming their unrefined dancing; now also singing their favourite lullaby in lieu of a songcord.

Sufficiently cooled off, you turn your head to your daughters to admire them in their silliness.

Your brow nits in slight confusion though, when you see them waving at something behind you, giggling all the while.

You turn around, curiosity in your eyes.

But the shoreline is just as empty as when you arrived.

---

Author's Notes: It was a private funeral dance 😢

Resplendent

word count: 1220

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Female! Metkayina! Na'vi Reader Tags/warnings: Fluff, angst, bittersweet, established relationship, adult reader, adult Neteyam, no smut Summary: Neteyam quietly watches you from the shore as you perform a ritual dance in the water, to the utter delight of your daughters.

Author's Note: Set some time after the big battle. Also moved those events further ahead. You and Neteyam are mated and have children before the RDA attacks the reef. Got inspired by the song~

Sa’nu - mum, mommy

Tahni - bioluminescent freckle

Close your eyes.

Deep breathes.

Remember the moves.

Remember the words...

Your heart thrums in your chest almost painfully. You take a deep, slow, calming breath; placing a hand over your heart.

“Sa’nu? Are you okay?”

You open your eyes, looking down to meet the gaze of your youngest daughter. The cool water of the sea comes up to her neck. Sweet thing. You told her, she and her sister could watch you from the shoreline. But they were persistent to be as close to you as possible. The water barely reaches your hips.

You offer a soft smile, reaching down and affectionately stroking her hair.

“I’m okay…Don’t worry my little star. Mommy’s just nervous.” The 5-year-old beams up at you with a toothy grin. Your 6-year-old beside her pats you on the arm.

“You practiced aaaaall the time! You got this.” She offers you her own encouraging smile. You give her an appreciative nod before facing the shoreline once more. You return your face to neutrality, closing your eyes once again.

You hear the disturbance of the water as your daughters move a bit to the side to give you more space to move.

With one final calming breath, you open your mouth and begin the song cord of your family.

---

Neteyam stands under the shade of a nearby tree on the shoreline. His arms are crossed as he watches the three of you.

The evening breeze carries your voice to him. He stands up straight when the sound hits his ears.

When you sing, it reminds him of the melody of birdsong in spring. No matter how many years may pass between you two, every time he hears you play the instrument of your heart, he feels like he could fall in love with you all over again.

He takes in your form as you start swaying in the water, admiring you from top to bottom.

Your hair, thick and long, reaching all the way down to your knees; you and your sisters spent what must have been hours, braiding it into the intricate patterns now adorning your head.

Even from this distance, he can still make out the faint markings of the tattoos framing your face. Though today you also have a thin line of white painting the centre of your face. You could have mud smeared all over and he would still find you to be the most beautiful woman; you have him convinced you are blessed by Eywa herself.

You arms move slow and with purpose through the air; attuned with the words as they fall from your lips.

Your soft lips.

How he wishes he could kiss you right now.

You dip down, submerging your arms into the water. In one fluid motion, you rise back up to your feet, the motion you perform with your hands and arms bring water up with you as you rose. Your arms are stretched out to your sides as you pirouette.

Neteyam’s heart skips a beat as he watches you, and it’s as if time itself slows, just so he can drink in the beauty of your very being.

With your back to eclipse, your front is cast in shadow.

The water falls around you in a shimmering curtain of rain. The last light of eclipse hits the smooth stones woven into the fabric on your chest; causing a cascade of colours to dance across your skin. And when the sun disappears, your tahni come to life like the brilliance of dawn.

It’s one of his most favourite parts of your body. Though you had the scattered stars as did all Na’vi, for reasons he attests only to being blessed by Eywa, you have thin bioluminescent swirls weaving itself around your arms, chest, and all down your legs. To him it’s like a faint galaxy glittering in the night.

He recalls fondly the memory of him knowing each and every star on your body intimately.

And in the fading light of the day do you shine before him. Resplendent as you are in the day, so too will you dazzle the world around you in the darkness of the approaching night.

His heart throbs something fierce when you open your eyes after dipping into the water once more. Even behind the curtain of water, or the netting of the fabric draped over your head, your eyes glow with a fierceness he knows all to well. It pierces his very soul, a warmth sweeping over him.

He drinks you in more as you bend your form this way and that. He wishes he knew the intricacies of your dance; understood what each fluid motion meant, the significance of each swish of your tail, or the ways you angle your hands and bend your fingers.

You close your eyes as you near the end of the cord song.

As you perform another twirl, you playfully swat the water with your thick tail, splashing your daughters.

Their uncontrollable gigging brings a smile to your face. You open your eyes as you continue to dance, giving them a loving look. They’re splashing each other with reckless abandon as they try to imitate your moves. You can’t help the unrestrained laughter their antics bring you.

Neteyam laughs quietly to himself as he watches his girls playfully flay about in the water. Every day since their birth he’s given thanks to both you and the Great Mother for blessing him with such miracles. He hadn’t thought it was possible to love something as much as he loved you.

He feels a stray tear fall down his cheek. But he doesn’t move to wipe it away. Instead he continues to smile as he watches your song and dance coming to its conclusion.

You turn to face the horizon, and his gaze drifts to his girls.

They’re singing something he can’t quite make out, but he loves the sound nonetheless.

And when their eyes meet his, finally noticing his presence, they wave at him wildly, giggling all over again.

His smile grows wider, and he offers them a small wave back.

---

One final pose, and you hold the final note of your song, eyes still closed. You hold that note until your lungs and throat burn.

You hear the excited cheers of your daughters as they shower you with praise. Your breathing is laboured as your heart pounds in your chest, but you offer them a bow and a small smile of gratitude.

You turn yourself to the horizon before you finally open your eyes. The ritual dance has come to and end.

You rub the cool ocean water on your cheeks, in your neck, and down your arms; all in an effort to cool you down from your laborious activity. You breath deep in from the nose, and slowly exhale through your mouth, calming your rapid heartbeat.

The girls still giggle beside you, resuming their unrefined dancing; now also singing their favourite lullaby in lieu of a songcord.

Sufficiently cooled off, you turn your head to your daughters to admire them in their silliness.

Your brow nits in slight confusion though, when you see them waving at something behind you, giggling all the while.

You turn around, curiosity in your eyes.

But the shoreline is just as empty as when you arrived.

---

Author's Notes: It was a private funeral dance 😢

What Do I Tell My Friends Family? Pt. 5

word count: 2661

Pairing: Recom! Miles! Quaritch x Female! Sully! Na'vi! Reader Tags/Warnings: nsfw, SMUT

Author's Note: Shorter chapter this time around! I just wanted to write smut ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) We are coming to the end lovelies!

<previous chapter> | 5 | <next chapter>

Snoring.

The sound slowly pulls you from your slumber. You open your eyes, blinking away the last dregs of sleep. You yawn as you stretch yourself out on your bed. Except, this doesn’t feel like a bed at all. You look up and see the sleeping face of your beloved, he has one arm behind is head, the other you feel on the small of your back. You’re lying on him, using him like a muscled mattress.

You smile to yourself. He is delectably warm.

You snuggle yourself deeper into his chest, gripping his shirt tighter. You feel his arm press you firmer into him, he mumbles something incomprehensible, then continue to snore.

Your mind wonders then to what had transpired earlier. Your stomach drops at the memory of your mother leaving the tent, unable to even look at you. The anxiety burns through you; leaves a gnawing void in the pit of your soul. The longer you lie there, the deeper it grows.

You hate feeling like this; you shouldn’t feel like this. You’re supposed to be happy. Happy to be back with your family, happy to be with the man bound to you by Eywa herself.

You want to forget. Forget everything that happened and just live in blissful ignorance, even just for a moment. Luckily, you know just the person to help you.

You gently turn yourself over, placing your legs on either side of Quaritch, nestling your crotch to his. You hear him take in a sharp breath at the sudden feeling of your heated sex to his, but still he sleeps. You move his hand and place it firmly to your rump. Even in his subconscious he desires you, and so despite being fast asleep, he can’t help but instinctively squeeze. You bite your lip and brace both hands on his broad chest.

You lean forward, purposefully griding yourself against him as you do, eliciting a sleepy moan from him. You start pressing chaste kisses to the soft flesh of his neck. You move from his throat and up to his jaw. You keep planting kisses along his jawline till you reach his mouth. You tilt your head and kiss him gently. You don’t move your lips, but you do again start to grind yourself against him. You can’t help but smirk when you feel his dick twitch against your sex.

Your heart flutters when you feel his lips press firmly against yours, returning the kiss. The velvet of his lips caresses you over and over again. He licks your bottom lip before gently sucking on the tender flesh. You part your lips and invite the intrusion of his tongue. He tastes every inch of your mouth before he tangles himself with you. It is intoxicating, this feeling, almost like drowning. You almost fight yourself when you need to come up for air.

You part yourself from him, but only an inch, your hot breathe mixes with his in the small space. Both of you are breathless, breathing heavily. You look those golden pools, the void of his pupils blown wide. His face is beautifully blanketed by a deep blush.

“Well…that’s one helluva way to wake up…I could get used to this,” he says with laboured breath and a loving smile. You feel the fast beat of his heart under your palms; reassuring and strong. But the tenderness of his expression falters, and it its wake comes concern. His eyes search yours then, a hand placed so tenderly to your temple, as if you would break so easily.

“Not that I’m complaining sweetheart, but…” You know what he wants to ask, but you are in no mood to talk of such things. All you want right now is too feel. You shake your head, stopping him mid-sentence.

“I do not wish to speak of it…Not right now. All I want, is to feel. To forget. Just for a little while…Please?” You grip tightly to the hand cradling you.

The look on your face shatters something deep within him; liquid warmth spreads forth, encapsulating his entire being. He becomes all too aware of his beating heart. And he comes to the conclusion that it only beats for you. He doesn’t deign you with an answer, and instead lets his actions speak for him.

He leans up and kisses you with all the passion from before. Both hands are on you, pulling you back to him. He isn’t gentle this time. His mouth dominates you, scorching you with his desire. You aren’t drowning; you are engulfed in flame.

With a swiftness you did not expect, he switches your positions. He has you caged within his arms, looming just above you. The fierceness of his gaze makes your heart skip, delicious anticipation tingling your every nerve. You may be a skilled hunter, but here trapped under him; you never felt more like prey.

He descends on you without warning; the two of you are a mash of teeth and saliva. He is devouring you. You whimper, unable to control yourself. Your mind thinks only of him. His mouth moves to your neck, sucking and licking at your flesh.

He pushes your legs apart and starts rubbing his hardened member against your clothed sex. The muted stimulation to your clit sends small jolts of pleasure through you, causing you to moan through parted lips. He pulls up your tank top, exposing your breasts to the cool air. He brings the bundled shirt to your mouth and tells you to bite down.

“Don’t want anyone else hearing those pretty sounds you make darling. Don’t exactly know how soundproof these things are.”

You nod and grip at the fabric with clenched teeth. You yourself aren’t sure either how reliably these walls will contain your moans.

His mouth is back to assaulting your neck, and you breath deep through your nose, trying your best to be quieter. His hand wastes no time in grabbing your breast, roughly kneading you.

“Hmmmmrph!” The shirt does little to muffle your moan at his ministrations. He moves his hand and rubs his thumb over your nipple, causing you to arch your back. He takes it between his forefinger and thumb, gently rolling your bud to a peak. You feel yourself slicken even further.

You press your feet firmly to the ground and tilt your pelvis upward so his clothed dick hits you just right. It only takes a few more hits to your clit for your orgasm to wash over you. The cord snaps and the wave of pleasure hits you from your swollen clit, spreading out and tingling every part of your being.

“That’s my girl, you’re doing so well baby,” he whispers into your ear when feels your body tense as you ride your orgasm.

You feel your pussy clench around nothing, groaning deep as he keeps rubbing against you.

He takes the shirt from your mouth, now drenched with your spit. Before you can even relax he grabs your mouth with his hand and forces your lips apart. He’s on you again, forcing his tongue inside. You yelp with surprise but don’t fight; all too eager to make out with him any chance you get.

He lifts himself up to gaze down at you, giving you one hard thrust into your core. The action causes you to bite you lip.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you? I’m only just getting started…”

---

Your mind is an addled mess; the ability to form a single coherent thought lessening with each orgasm he pulls from you.

You’re approaching your fifth, you think. He has you on your back, one arm wound behind you, his hand holds firm to your breast and he fondles you, deft fingers teasing your perked nipple. Each flick and pinch sends pleasurable bolts down your spine.

His mouth is to your ear, whispering the most delicious filth to you. He licks and nips between words, earning him a melody of whines and whimpers. Your leg closest to him is bent at the knee, trapped behind his own as he bends you open further; utterly at his mercy.

And his hand; that dextrous tool of your destruction. He has 3 long fingers deep in you, his palm pressed flat to your clit. Up and down he pumps, stimulating the soft spongy flesh within while your bundle of nerves is rubbed vigorously against his smooth skin.

He can’t believe how utterly drenched you are; he’s sure he could almost fit his entire hand in you right now. You’ve all but made a pool of irresistible nectar at your core. So lubricated are you, Quaritch wonders if outsiders can hear the filthy squelch of your pussy as he works his fingers into your sex. You are far from caring at this point, your mind is but focused on one thing; coming all over this man’s fingers.

You feel it building fast, that tight pressure somewhere deep beyond your cunt. Your walls start to clench as the pleasure builds, closer and closer you sprint to that edge. The pleasure is bordering on painful; you aren’t even sure if you can even withstand one more. Fat tears roll down your face, you whimper and moan; conflicted as you are pulled in opposite directions.

‘I—I can’t! Please! I—I don’t—' You try so very hard to get the words out, but what comes out of your mouth is simply unintelligible nonsense under breathless moans and whines. But he understands, Eywa bless this man. Unfortunately for you, he cares not for your protests; believing you are capable of just. One. More.

“Come on baby just one more, I know you got it in you. Just give me one more, that’s all I’m askin’ for sweetheart. You’re my good little girl aren’t you? You’ll do just as your mate asks; won’t you?”

You growl low in your throat, desperate to please him. You bite hard on your lip, the taste of blood dancing on your tongue. For him. You’ll do it for him; even if you go mad.

You feel his fingers quicken their pace, his palm brutally massaging your clit. He is unrelenting in his search for that final explosion of pleasure. Faster and faster the pleasure builds along with the pain. Your walls are swollen, pussy almost burning to the touch. It only takes a few more rubs against that soft flesh for you to orgasm; you cum the hardest this time.

You groan in pain and pleasure through gritted teeth, drool seeping from the corners of your mouth as you try not to scream out at the top of your lungs. But it is a losing battle. You go to open your mouth but he is on you, swallowing your screams with a bruising kiss.

The walls of your pussy clench around his fingers like a vice, massaging him as though to milk him for every last drop of his seed. But the high doesn’t stop. It builds more; until you feel ourself expel all over his hands, your legs. Quaritch quickly removes his fingers and starts slapping your hypersensitive clit, a victorious smirk spreads on his face as he watches you squirt all over yourself and him.

“There you go sweetheart…that’s it, that’s my good girl,” he kisses away your tears. All you can do is cry; the pleasure is far too overwhelming and all you want is a little reprieve.

Your head lulls to the side, mouth agape as you drool. You’re far too tired to even think. And so you just lie there; mind blank, the only thing your hyper aware of is the deep thrumming of your clit and pussy as it aches; utterly abused and throbbing.

Your mate’s heavy breathing behind you pulls your attention; ears perking up at the sound. Still flat on your back, you turn your head to him. Your walls clench at the sight of him. He has his cock in his hand, leisurely pumping himself with one hand, the tip already leaking precum.

It then dawns on you that through out this whole endeavour, he probably hasn’t come once. You feel guilty, and try to reach for him, but grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles instead. You whine in protest.

“Ssshhh, it’s alright baby. I won’t take long, trust me,” he winks at you, licking his lips and he squeezes himself harder.

But you’re having none of it; if he’s cumming, it’d better be deep inside you; painting your walls with his seed.

You take your hand from his, causing his pace to slow, confused by your retreat. With great effort you push yourself up onto your shoulders, and glare at him as best you can.

“You…if you don’t finish inside me…Then I swear by Eywa I’ll end you my damn self…Now get over here.” He immediately stops his hand, staring at you shocked. But it’s gone in an instead, and he huffs out a laugh and fixes you with half lidden eyes and a smirk.

“As my mate commands.”

You let yourself lay back down as he quickly moves over you. Once he’s between your legs you trap him there, locking your feet together.

“Hmm, serious are we?”

“Hurry up and fuck me Miles…”

“Ohhh I love it when you talk dirty, darling,” he steals your breath with a passionate kiss, one you’re all to happy to return. You move your queue between the two of you. He does the same when he sees your movement. When the bond links into place, your eyes roll to the back of your head. You’re filled with his aching need for you; overwhelmed by the desire to be fucked all over again.

“Fuck…” Is all he can groan out, resting his head to yours. He nearly cums then and there, feeling your body so tired and sore, yet still pleasure dances across your skin and deep at your centre.

He pushes himself into you with one hard thrust. He meets no resistance, the soft smooth flesh of your cunt sucks him in, accepting him in full splendour.

You sigh deep, only now realising that this was what missing; being completely full and stretched. He doesn’t let you catch your breath, immediately pounding into you with reckless abandon. It thrust brings him to the base, his cock stretching you to the limit, moulding your soft spongy walls around him.

You hands seek purchase on his back, nails digging into the flesh and you claw him; leaving bloody trails in their path. He growls then, followed by a guttural moan. The deep baritone of his voice makes your pussy clench.

“Fuck, [Y/N], just like that! My perfect mate, my perfect girl! You take me so well baby…You were made for taking this cock weren’t you?”

Renewed tears stream down your face as your mind becomes flooded with the pleasure of the bond. It only takes a few more powerful thrusts before Quaritch cums inside you with a low growl into your ear. The feeling him his hot seed being spilt inside you causes another orgasm to wrack your body. You are thankful it’s at least a lot gentler than the last.

Quaritch hums and kisses your neck when he feels your walls clench around him, the sound of your breath catching doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Aww, another one just for me? You’re too kind princess.” He plants a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he flops down beside you, completely spent.

With his remaining strength he pulls you to him. You cuddle yourself against his side, resting your head upon his chest, leg thrown over his mid. His hand comes to rest on your thigh, lazily drawing shapes onto your skin.

“I love you, Miles…thank you…”

“I love you too, [Y/N].” He kisses to top of your head.

The last thing you remember is wrapping your tail around his before sleep claims you once more.

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Tag list: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @lvangel98, @rsclopez, @onlyreadz @manymaria111, @kristeen31xxx @mechformers @olivia-the-weirdo @essenceinpink @villirios @rededfoxy @brutecuteness @perseny @fandom-garbage @ttreader @hihhasotherfixations @angel-of-silver369 @royallaufeyson @saltedcoffeescotch @the-hufflebird-girl

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Revenant - Masterlist

Pairing: Colonel Miles Quaritch x Female! Wife! Reader Warnings/Tags: R18 - minors DNI, hurt, comfort, eventual smut, major character death, violence, murder, betrayal, romance, pregnancy, (chapters will have additional warnings) Author's Notes: Something I've been cooking up along side Providence!

Summary: For nearly two decades, you have been a trained assassin, part of a group known as The Order. It wasn't a glamourous work, but it put food on the table, and made you strong enough to protect your younger twin brothers from any and every harm. But an unexpected contract falls into your lap, sending you light years away to an alien world, and an alien body, to kill an alien man.

Chapter Index:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 (coming soon)

**more story info below**

Reader Info:

Name: [Y/N] Sully Age: 24 (as of 2144), 30 when she arrives on Pandora DOB: xx / xx / 2120 Bio: Older sister of Jake and Tom Sully, 6 years their senior. At the age of 10, she is conscripted by The Order; an elite group of hitmen/assassins. Her demeanor on the field, and the one she presents in front of others, are almost two separate beings. She is calm, collect, perhaps even cold when on the job. Around others she is bright eyed and friendly; smiles were the only thing she ever wore in front of Jake and Tom. Inspired by the character Yor Forger.

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Random Story Notes:

Quaritch is born in the year 2103 - making him 17 years your senior.

I will be pulling random science stuff out my ass

I may or may not alter the actual timeline of events - I'm getting my info from the wiki in terms of what year stuff happens.

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Perm Tag List: @mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname @lvangel98 @watertastesnice1 @belos-simp69 @wren-solos @pandoragalora @strbyallycow @so-this-is-a-thing-noww