A Little Jake-centric Oopsie

a little jake-centric oopsie

part one part two part three part four part five

there is a serious lack of fanfictions about them…

sorry

this is so toxic, but still hot 😔✊🏻

Damsel, let me de-stress you…

< PREV | NEXT >

SERIES DISCLAIMERS: Porn with plot, explicit smut, lewd language, coercion, manipulation, emotional blackmail, lima/stockholm syndrome, detailed injury + murder + violence, graphic gore, blood consumption? (cut cleaning/grooming), verbal threat to life, loss of virginity, p in v intercourse, sex during injury recovery, oral sex, rough sex, dubious consent, slight themes of noncon, degrading & dominant Miles, manhandling, tail play? is that a thing?? is now.

Reblogs, likes and replies are always greatly appreciated! Your support makes my day 🤍

TAGGED USERS: @mrs-sullys-blog @dyingofcookies @sanislifealways @so-this-is-a-thing-noww @sweetirilly @ilovebluedilfss @littlesugarcube45 @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

Leave a comment on this post or in my inbox if you'd like to be added to or removed from my taglist 😚

“Y/n? Y/n, can you hear me?” Spider shook her by her shoulders — his ropey, honey-blonde dreads swaying as he did. He’d been trying to stir his friend from her state of unconsciousness for some time; every tug of her arm or pat against her cheek only repaid him a silence with each attempt. “Damnit!” The boy cursed, pacing the room he'd awoken in a few hours earlier.

It was flooded with an overbearing whiteness that blinded him, his eyes still adjusting to the dazzling light. The room was completely bare, except for the table in the center that y/n had been situated atop at some point. Spider came to a standstill in front of the two-way mirror, slamming his open palms against it. “Hey! Hey, you in there! I know you can hear me!”

Pushing himself from the glass, he spun to face the camera in the corner as he rattled off various threats and insults in Na’vi. It was safe to say the kid was pissed. Huffing, he readied himself with a chair — the mightiest of weapons — before hurling it straight at the mirror. He thought it might make him feel better, but it didn't. It had achieved a grand total of exactly nothing.

“Pussies!” He shouted, at who, he wasn't entirely sure. He was perfectly aware that he was taking his anger out on the CCTV, but he didn't care. He was there — for whatever reason, and so was the camera. “Hiding behind a window that I can't even see you through, huh? You better run! You hear?! He's coming for all of you! Jake Sully will kill all of you!” He felt proud of himself, actually. Granted this newfound confidence probably bubbled from a certain somewhere called teenage hormones; he dubbed himself quite the badass.

“Tsahey...” [Shit...] Croaked a groggy voice from behind him. Spider whirled on his heel, and like a breeze, he was at her side. “Y/n! You okay?” He helped her sit up, wary of the swollen bruising that littered her arms. He was certain her torso probably looked worse having taken the brunt of the fall, but beneath the bandaging, he couldn't tell.

She winced, cupping her head. “I feel like a Viperwolf chewed me up and spat me out, then I got trampled by a dozen Thanator.” Spider arched a brow at her dramatics. “But otherwise fine?” Y/n elbowed him with a disgruntled eye-dart. “Snumìna.” [Idiot.] He looked longingly at her, hand hovering over hers. It was his fault she was here, his fault she was hurt. She’d gone after him. “Why?” He asked her, gut sinking deeper each time he glanced at the damage her body had endured.

She'd risked her life for him, something no one else had ever done. Something he didn't think he deserved.

Y/n took his much smaller hand in hers, circling her thumb over his skin. Honestly, she was flabbergasted that he'd even wonder why she went after him. “Because you're my brother, monkey boy. Sullys stick together.” He felt his heart inflate. He’d never felt truly accepted as a member of the family. Not a valued one, anyway. And eventually, he gave up seeking Jake and Neytiri’s approval.

The door hissed, then. Vapor collected at its frame as it slid open, and the pair frowned hatefully at the rude interruption. Life amidst war made heart-to-hearts a thing of rare occurrence. They were having a moment. Couldn't this asshat have waited five fucking minutes?

The figure had to duck their head to enter, and a familiar waft filled y/n’s nostrils. She didn't know how, but she knew that smell. Spider hopped onto the table, squatting beside her as they both craned their necks to look up at their visitor. Even y/n, fully grown at her lithe height of eight feet and six inches, had to raise her eyes to meet those of their guest. The light bulb pinged then. Those eyes.

Those fucking eyes.

“Don't try anythin’.” He inhaled from his oxygen mask before letting it hang with abandon from his thick neck. Y/n caught herself latching to the bulbous vein that travelled up its slope and immediately cast her gaze to the floor. Never had something looked so biteable. Never.

Spider noticed her shift from his peripheral, a nervous wave of his own washing over him. He’d actually anticipated her to lash out at the man. Usually, she would. But she was in rough shape, not to mention unknown territory. And let's not forget the man who stood before them was huge. Even for an Avatar. It went without saying he exceeded average.

Was Y/n Sully intimidated? May Eywa have mercy, for he was dumbstruck. He didn't think he'd see the day.

“Hop to it, boy, you've got an appointment with the science pukes.” The man spoke, voice dripping with authority. Hearing him speak refreshed y/n’s memory. So he was the same man from the woods. Spider frowned, shuffling closer to y/n. “I'm not going anywhere with you, dipshit.” Y/n glared at the boy, astounded by his stupidity. “Are you trying to get us killed? Yaymak!” [Fool!] She scolded, and the ‘tsk’ of her tut really cherry-topped the cake. “Hush.” She hissed, and he did just that, opting to death-stare the man instead with tightly-sealed lips.

“An’ you.” The man addressed y/n this time, his expression difficult to read, though his eyes betrayed him ever so slightly. She saw desire within them. It was strange. “You’re comin’ with me.” He told her, a single fang protruding as he smirked.

──────────────────────

“Unhand me, demon!” Y/n had been struggling against him for the entirety of their journey to his private quarters. It was to his assumption she didn't take kindly to being separated from the boy, though he suspected the way in which he’d roughly caged her to his front wasn't appreciated, either.

On the contrary, he was rather enjoying himself.

How could he not? She was tucked in the crook of his arm, trapped to his hip as he carried her surfboard-style. He had in fact rearranged her; her previous position causing the plump curve of her ass to press against his crotch.

Don't get him wrong, he loved how she squirmed against his groin, all worked up and agitated. But it was getting to him — his bulge ultimately hardening. He wouldn't let on to his intentions, whether or not his yearning to indulge in them was worsening with animalistic lust. So, he'd brought it upon himself to make the big-boy decision, decidedly refraining from pummeling into her right then and there in the corridor.

And that was how they got into said predicament, her long legs — that in his mind went on for miles — flailed as she thrashed in his hold. Her tail threw a tantrum of its own, occasionally whipping and thwacking him. It was a very vocal and opinionated limb.

He ignored it, though. Striding with a primal determination to get this brat to his damn room.

And into his fucking bed.

So when they arrived, he wasted not a breath when he frantically stubbed his pointer into the keyboard of the code lock. The doors parted with a whoosh and he let her go, preparing himself for an attack. But she didn't even look his way. Instead, she bolted straight for the farthest corner, wanting nothing more than to get the hell away from him.

He sighed, allowing the doors to close behind him with a low whir. Y/n had curled herself into a fetal ball, tail twined around her legs as it hugged them to her. Tilting his head, his eyes landed on a red blotch seeping through the material of one of her dressings. He'd split her fucking stitches.

Whoops.

He grimaced, seating himself on the foot of his large bed. “My bad, darlin’. I didn't mean to.” He drawled, expression sincere. His guilt sounded genuine, but that didn't matter to y/n. Nothing he could say would make any of this acceptable to her. Nothing.

She only ‘hmphed’ at the half-assed apology, ducking her head to rest it against her forearms. He nodded at her dismissal, retrieving something from his pocket. Y/n flinched at his movement, staggering onto unsteady feet as her eyes penetrated his pocket like she was trying to burn a peephole through it.

His brows shot up at her skittish reaction to something so harmless. He revealed a silver chain, a tarnished duo of military dog tags hanging from them as they swung from his fingers. She visibly relaxed having expected him to reach for his gun, and leaned her aching self against the wall behind her.

He’d made a lasting impression on her in the woods. Guns seemed to be his go-to.

Now that she was standing in all her glory, he was able to soak her in like a parched sponge. Her traditional Na’vi chest piece, definitive to her clan, didn't leave much to the imagination. And his imagination, to put it plainly, was nothing short of downright appalling.

The fissures of the intertwined material, twisted and folded into a striking design, draped over her bare chest perfectly. Intricate patterning of a sultry maroon decorated the thin fabric, weaved with what he could only assume were feathers or petals. Slithers of her dewy blue skin, velvety beneath the harsh illumination of his ceiling light, provoked him as the swells of her pert breasts taunted his temptation.

Barely visible, yet too visible.

And once he could bring himself to tear his gaze from the pebbles of her nipples, erect beneath the cloth and begging for attention as the chill of his room nipped at them, he found himself dragging his eyes down the lengths of her sculpted thighs — muscular and firm thanks to her time spent in the trees.

He felt his dick twitch at the thought of how they would look wrapped around his waist. A delightful thought, indeed.

Only then had it occurred to him that he was ogling, and his eyes shot back up to hers. Of course, y/n was glaring right at him, a lavender blush tinting her cheeks and nose at his invasive stares. Her slim arms crossed over her chest, and she felt weirdly self-conscious thanks to his hungry eyes — greedy with want. The apparel of her people was the most basic of normalities to her, but now she felt underdressed.

Exposed.

He cleared his throat, yanking at his cargos which had bunched at the stiffening tent within their confinements. “What's yer name, sweetheart?” She wrung her long fingers, interlacing them as she felt her face heating up in his presence. “Y/n. Y/n te Suli Neytiri’ite.” He smirked, every globule of blood rushing to his dick and pooling with arousal as she spoke. He was man enough to admit the Na’vi accent turned him the hell on. He even thought so in his human years, believe it or not.

He grinned, tossing his dog tags into the air before catching them with ease. “Miles Quaritch.” He finally introduced, observing how her ears flattened against the sides of her head, pinning down at the utterance of his name. “I take it your Ma an’ Pa have told you allll about me. Ain't that right?” Her pupils narrowed into vertical, feline slits — her eyes darkening into a deep orange. “My mother killed you once, demon. She will kill you again, and keep killing you until—”

“Until what? Until I die?” He quipped, finding amusement in how easily he could ruffle her feathers. “Until you stay dead!” She countered, her chiselled arms tensing at her sides. The mental kick she gave herself was hefty; losing her temper while in captivity, should she find herself in such a situation, was something her father had cautioned her never to do.

She wanted to go home, to see her brothers and sisters. If she was disobedient and failed to comply, she feared she'd never see them again.

Quaritch, on the other hand, was thrilled. An absolute spit of her mother, despite the hatred he and his past self possessed for Neytiri, he had no shame in admitting she was a stunning woman — her daughter resembling her in the most delicious of ways. She and y/n were without doubt the most beautiful of their tribe, or perhaps of their kind.

“Son’uva bitch. You’re just like her.” He stood to his feet, towering a head or so taller than her. She swallowed thickly, throat bobbing as she did.

“The way ya walk.” He took a step closer. “The way ya talk.” Another step. “Yer purty face.” Another. “The way ya kill...” He backed her against the wall, cornering her. ‘Never let yourself get trapped.’ Her father’s words ran marathons around her head, and she kicked herself yet again.

“What do you want?” Y/n demanded, skin prickling as he loomed over her, his hand now planted just above her head. Quaritch flashed his canines, lips stretching into a wicked smirk as his tongue poked out to wetten them.

“I want answers.”

“So ask me questions, then.” She snapped, immediately regretting her tone. Great Mother, did she have to learn to shut her mouth. And rightly so, since his expression darkened at her words, the hand that previously rested on his hip now pointing a finger in her face. “Now, darlin’, you're gonna listen up.” Her jaws clenched, and so did something else. “There’s two things I want from ya, but you've got a choice. One or the other. Followin’ so far, pretty?”

The only thing she found herself following was the way in which his crisp-cut jawline stretched his sweat-beaded skin over its sharp arc as he spoke, his pink-tipped nose crinkling somewhat adorably and blown pupils pursuing hers.

“Honey, I asked ya a question, don't leave me hangin’.”

His throaty, monotone voice brought her back, and she made the fatal mistake of allowing her eyes a glimpse of his lips on their way up his handsome face. After a good ol’ mental face-palm, she eyed him with a facade she hoped he’d fall for.

Oh, fallen, he certainly had.

“Fine.” She huffed out, hating the way her voice wavered, so meek in comparison. She felt utterly pathetic. This was ridiculous. He put some distance between them, unable to help the way her bio freckles — glinting like constellations — enticed him to want to lean in again. It looked like Tinker Bell had puked all over her face, and he'd never seen a prettier sight. He wasn't about to complain. Any reason to admire that face, Quaritch was gonna take it.

Sucking in a breath from his mask, he bought the time to mull over how he’d go about such a negotiation. He wasn't one to discuss matters. Usually, it was his way or the highway. But this genius idea of his would work out well for him, whatever the outcome. He had her right where he needed her — timid and willing to listen. If she was anything like her father, supposing he was anything like the man Quaritch once knew, he knew how to get under her skin. Into her head.

“Glad we're on the same page, sugar plumb.” He turned away from her, spreading his legs as he slouched into his desk chair. “Y’all make a good team: you an’ him.” He twisted to face her, noticing how her stance had relaxed now that he wasn't so close. “He really raised ya into a lil’ warrior, huh? I saw ya out there last night… watched ya kill two of my men. Zhang was his name — the one ya flayed.”

His words didn't encourage y/n to feel any remorse. Not for him, anyway. Nor for this Zhang. All it did was remind her of the fear in her little sister’s eyes as she looked up at her — like she was looking at a ghost. Or a monster. Precious Tuk. So pure and innocent, and far too good for the world.

“But I wasn't even mad.” Quaritch continued, arms crossed as he reclined. “I couldn't bring myself to be, ‘cause ya looked so fuckin’ hot.” Y/n felt her eyes widen and stomach stir as they exchanged silence. He saw her kill his friends and did nothing? Why? She thought, calling his bluff. “That look in yer eye when he nabbed the youngin... ya looked like a ticked-off mama bear.”

He chuckled grimly, the apples of his cheeks swelling and the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes wrinkling. “The way ya moved as ya did it, the way his blood covered ya. The way it shined against yer skin and coated yer…” He trailed off, voice becoming gravelly as he let his eyes dip to her chest.

Y/n felt a spark ignite in the depths of her belly, an unorthodox sensation that was completely foreign to her. It wasn't an unappreciated feeling per se, but it was new. She didn't know what to make of it. The sound of Quaritch clearing his throat snapped her back to reality. He did that a lot. “It's obvious ya love yer family. The way ya fought to protect ‘em out there... how ya threw yerself from a damn tree for my boy.”

Y/n felt her abdomen begin to cramp up from being on her feet for so long, the fractured ribs she was no doubt suffering from making their objection abundantly clear. She wished he’d just get a move on and make his point already.

“So a lil’ somethin’ called ‘the blatantly obvious’ tells me you're not gonna give up where y'all operate from. Am I right?” He presumed, scooting forward to prop his elbows on his knees. She allowed a scoff to fall from her lips, no longer bothered about upkeeping her Mr Nice Guy act. “I’m not telling you anything, vonvä.” [asshole.] His features harshened, a shadow crossing over them. A tiny part of her almost wanted to take it back, but she was done with his games. She just wanted to get herself and Spider home.

Home, and safe.

The legs of his chair scraped against the floor, almost clattering against it as he marched toward her with a face like thunder. She made herself appear as big as possible, baring her fangs at him as she hissed through the pain that shot through her torso — probably popping another stitch or two. Quaritch returned the notion, his ears bent back as he roughly clasped her arm with a growl. “Perhaps I didn't make myself clear before.” He gruffed, all but propelling her onto his bed. “So allow me to reiterate.”

Y/n wriggled beneath the hand he pressed her down with, the heel of his palm digging uncomfortably into her bandaged ribcage. Her tail wrapped itself around his strained forearm like a boa constrictor, the unforeseen strength of it catching him off guard slightly — certain it was cutting off his circulation. She hissed with feral aggression, all six of her dagger canines snarling at him as she clawed his arms and hands. Quaritch’s jaw ticked, his eye twitching irritably as he held her in place. “Do not test me, girl. Ya think I won't hesitate? I haven't forgotten whose kid ya are.”

She didn't stop, though. His threat flew straight over her head, and if anything, added fuel to the fire. A deep rumble reverberated from his pumped chest, lips clamped into a flat line as he flipped her onto her front. She let out a shriek at the way he'd twisted her body, causing her various lacerations to reopen — oozing and weeping as her tears threatened to spill from their ducts. Quaritch curled his fingers around the base of her queue, her ears stooping and spine curving in response.

“Be good, an’ I won’t snap yer pretty neck.” His threat was empty — he had no intention of killing her. But she didn't need to know that. She felt the mattress dip as he knelt over her, his knees on either side of her hips. “Remember what I said, princess?” His lips ghosted the shell of her ear, causing it to flicker like a butterfly wing. She tried to flinch away, his face right next to hers, but his weight kept her pinned. “Two things I'm after... but you get to choose which I get. Don't that sound like a fair compromise?”

Her fidgeting went dead beneath him as she considered the proposition, understandably reluctant to agree. “They say ‘no news is good news’, so I'll take yer silence as a ‘yes’, sweet darlin’.” She grumbled at his smugness, the murmur muffled by the sheets her face had been pushed into. “Good girl.” He chimed, loosening his grip on her queue. “I'm gonna roll ya over, okay?” Y/n puffed out through her nostrils, the awkward position she'd been forced into making her cringe with each tiny movement.

Satisfied she wouldn't flip out on him, he placed one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip, gently easing her onto her back. She let him manoeuvre her, aware he was far stronger and had the clear upper hand. Fighting him would be a losing game, and she was rather fond of her neck remaining unsnapped. “Now.” He began, his expression somewhat softer. “Where’s yer Pops ran off to, hmm?”

Y/n looked up at him with large, doe eyes — the flecks of green and hazel dotting her irises making his heart falter. Fuck, she was gorgeous. “I don't know.” She deadpanned. And it was true, she didn't. After last night’s ambush, it was plausible her father had moved their family away from the Mons Veritatis cave to somewhere more secluded — if possible. High Camp was pretty damn hard to find. Failing that, he was already on his way with an army of Ikranä Maktoyus and an extremely pissed-off Neytiri.

“Pardon me if I say I don't believe ya.” Quaritch dismissed, his hand gliding up the tender muscle of her calf. He pinched the fat slightly before grazing his fingertips higher to the back of her knee, hand sliding to the underside of her thigh to push her bent leg against her stomach. His touches were strangely meticulous, her chest stammering as her dishevelled loincloth slipped to the side. “Where is Jake Sully?” He repeated, tone sharper and eyes piercing.

“I. Don't. Know.” She spoke flatly, refusing to give in to the incessant throbbing she was experiencing between her legs. She didn't know what it was, or what it meant. She also didn't know why she liked it. Looking back up at him, she was expecting to be met by those eyes she loved so much. Almond in shape… human-like. They were glued to her womanhood, however. As if replacing her own eyes that had been downcast to that very spot just seconds before. Could he feel it, too? Impossible — they weren't bonded. It wasn't until his nose flexed slightly that she realized.. he could smell her.

She raised her other leg so she could squeeze them shut, but he held his arm out to prevent her, trapping it snugly in the cushioning of her thighs. Y/n sensed a switch in his persona, his pupils dilated and little ears fluttering. She could hear his breathing hitch before it picked up pace — he hadn't blinked once.

With one hand still holding her left leg up, he snaked the one caught between her thighs closer, meeting her wide gaze for what felt like the first time in.. forever. He silently asked her permission, his emotive eyes doing all the talking. She froze, not entirely sure what was happening. The corner of his mouth quirked, his earlier words echoing in her mind as they bounced off its walls.

‘I'll take yer silence as a ‘yes’ then, sweet darlin’.’

Oh, fuck.

Peeling back the cloth that sat precariously over her mound, her scent engulfed him like steam in a sauna. It was inebriating, and he felt light-headed as her sweet fragrance kissed his nostrils almost teasingly, his mouth suddenly damp. He tilted his head, not out of curiosity, but rather to better his view. Y/n felt utterly violated, her face blushing an unforgivable shade of purple as her tail jolted at the cold air that hit her folds.

Quaritch gulped back the overflow of saliva that puddled in his mouth, his previously semi-hard cock now strained painfully against the restraints of his boxers. “Oh, darlin’.” He grinned, tongue spreading his spit over his fang-esque teeth. “What's gotten ya so riled up?” She parted her lips, but no sound passed through them.

Speechless.

“Where is he?” Quaritch cooed, parting her legs so he could perch her right one over his hip while his fingers rubbed circles into the sole of her left foot. “Tell me, an’ you're free to go.” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, freeing herself of his predatory gaze. “If I don't?” She questioned, finally finding her voice as his fingers fluttered over her flushed skin. He chuckled, grasping her ankle and massaging the bottom of her foot over his erection — eyes half-lidded in response to the friction. He only hoped she didn't take the opportunity to kick him in the nuts, though he gathered by the slick of her cunt that the thought hadn't crossed her mind.

“Well, it's simple really.” He rasped, voice dripping with his craving for a taste. “Ya either tell me, or let me have ya.” Y/n frowned, eyes heavy when she opened them. “You already have me.” She felt the need to refresh his memory. Had he forgotten how his men took her and Spider hostage? Quaritch shook his head, bracing his hips just above her upturned ones. “Nuh-uh, sweetness. Let me have you.”

Loosely translated: Let me ravage you.

Still oblivious to the undertone of his implication, he lowered himself so he was hovering over her, her ass angled upward and sandwiching into his groin as his hips rolled forward. “Let me have ya, pretty girl.” Her eyes darted to where her hind had squashed against his hardness, the sticky warmth she had no control over moistening the crotch of his cargos. He could feel her virgin pussy quake and pulsate, and he hissed under his breath — patience wearing dangerously thin.

She stalled, her heartbeat slamming in her eardrums and her head spinning. It had occurred to her that to any other female, his offer would be irresistible. A no-brainer. The guaranteed safety of her family in exchange for sex with their hunky kidnapper? The decision should be easy. And it would be if she wasn't to be faced with the inevitable disappointment of her father, the most important person in her life, no matter what she gave up.

Him, or herself?

She was a daddy’s girl, and he was a raging girl-dad, so when she asked herself ‘Which would he rather?’ — and of course his answer would be preferably neither — she had to ask herself, what did she rather?

She'd rather her dad didn't lose his life all because she couldn't spread ‘em.

So, her mind was made up. She just couldn't say it. Repulsed by herself, despite her reasoning.

Ridding herself of the plaited yarn that fastened her loincloth to her hips, she refused eye contact with the man. She was scared, of course, she was. Sex wasn't a subject she’d dined on with her parents. From Jake’s perspective, the concept of his baby girl even knowing the word penis, or even that penises themselves existed, was something he couldn't (wouldn't) wrap his head around. As for her mother, well, the fact her little girl had matured so quickly was frightening enough. To Neytiri, y/n was still a babe. Her cub.

Strong are the those of their blood. No woman with Tskaha in their veins should let a man crawl on top of her and simply have his way.

Oh, mother dearest, are you in for a shock.

Quaritch reclined on his hunches, eyes snapping to her now naked lower-half like a moth to a flame. “Lookit ya.” He smoothed his calloused hands up and down her thighs. They were like sandpaper against her flesh, and if he carried on long enough, he'd make for an effective exfoliant. “Just lookit ya.” He inhaled deeply, positioning her reticent legs over his thighs. He reached for the bandaging around her waist, unwinding the cotton bindings from her lean frame. With its loss revealed a scattering of scrapes and cuts — some deep enough to warrant suturing, while others only tickled her exterior layer of skin.

Y/n lay still as a statue, the entire scenario otherworldly to her. All that differentiated her from being completely bare beneath him was her chest covering, and something told her it wouldn't be covering anything for much longer. Quaritch let out a low hum, brows furrowing and eyes narrowing as his fingers danced over her bruised stomach. His inspections ceased at an especially angry-looking abrasion, the pad of his thumb coasting over it. Y/n sucked her belly inward slightly at the sting, a needle-sharp pang greeting her nerve endings.

He tilted forward so his face was aligned with her abdomen, before prodding at the raw gash with his tongue. She raised her head to peer down at him, perplexity painting her features as she watched him clean her like a cat grooming its kitten. He spread his saliva into the dried crimson that had crusted around the cut, smearing it over the flawless, toned surface of her tummy. Remnants of it stained his fingertips, and he gladly sucked them clean as he sat up to admire his handiwork.

Y/n was, to say the least, unimpressed. She didn't know what the typical routine was when it came to sex, but she was fairly confident it wasn't that. She let out a huff, praying he'd get it over and done with. She was spread eagle, smothered in crude smudges of her own blood, and she could feel what remained of her pride fall from her grasp. The Sullys were a proud bunch, but she was losing ounce after ounce of self-respect by the minute.

Rustling at her feet made her glance his way, and she immediately wished she'd stayed curious once greeted with the unforgettable sight of his swollen, leaking cock. She turned her head to the side, though the damage was done. The spongey mushroom tip was engraved in her mind, including the silver specs that the length of his member adorned. She loathed the way her walls clenched at the mental image, guts churning with the anticipation of what was to come.

It wasn't until she was jerked forward by her hips that she realized he’d dropped to his knees, locking her legs over his beefy shoulders. Quaritch’s gaze met hers, his pupils blown to the extent his eyes appeared black. He leaned in, pressing the flat bridge of his nose against her pleading vulva and inhaled. She recoiled at the intrusion, her tail thumping against the mattress. Did he really just do that? Eywa, she wanted a sinkhole to conveniently form in the center of the bed and swallow her whole. She felt utterly humiliated, her dignity shattered beyond repair.

Bracing herself on her elbows, she— oh..?

Oh.

His lips had latched to her clit, capturing the sensitive bundle between them. Her legs went stagnant on either side of his head as she tried to close them, only to draw an appreciative groan from the man. She pushed her hand onto the crown of his partially shaved head, and his mouth separated from her with a lewd pop. “W-wait, wait.” Quaritch let his annoyance be known breathily, his sigh hot against her slick. “What?”

Y/n crawled back slightly, her tail subconsciously dragging between her thighs — settling over her slit and blocking his access. “What are you doing?” She mumbled, pupils tremoring within the yellow pools of her irises. “I was gonna eat yer pretty pussy.” He lamented, clearly frustrated and not bothered about concealing it. She pulled her legs from his shoulders, her inner thighs glistening — and not from their metallic speckles. “What… what does that mean? I don't want you to eat my… flower.”

He wanted to guffaw at her, to double over and laugh right in her face. “Is that what yer bitch mother calls it? I ain't gonna literally eat ya, darlin’. It'll feel real good.” He took her ankles in his hands, guiding her legs back to where he’d previously positioned them so his head was secured between her thighs’ apex. She scowled down at him, lips curling in disgust. “Do not speak of my mother—”

“Are ya gonna tell me where she's hidin’?”

“No!”

“Then shut the fuck up an’ take it.”

She squealed when he swatted her tail away and shoved his face into her once more, nose foraging between her soaked folds as he embraced her scent. A thick digit tapped at the puckered rim of her entrance, and y/n balled his bedsheets within her fists at the odd pressure. “Gotta relax or I can't please ya, pretty darlin’.” He swirled the tip of his tongue around her bud, probing her heat as the nerves twitched against it. Her body responded to his gentle prodding, the walls of her cunt, wet and ready, relaxing for him as it granted him entrance.

“Good girl.” He praised, dipping his index into her with incremental dexterity. Y/n gasped, her breath catching in her windpipe and legs squeezing his head at the width of his finger. His fucking finger. Quaritch chuckled, the rumble vibrating against her when he licked a sloppy trail from her hole to her clit in one crude stroke. He dragged the muscle through her drenched slit, poking and flicking the tip against her sensitive nub with each lathering. He lapped at her shamelessly, slurping and sucking with deprivation.

Y/n’s mouth was hung slack, jaws limply hung in an ‘O’ as he devoured every nook and cranny, his tongue exploring crevices she didn't know she had. “Ah, ah!” She lifted her head from the plush of his mattress when the point of his fang grazed her overstimulated bundle, gently nipping and pinching as he added a second finger and hooked them within her, stretching her beautifully as his digits crooked and bent knuckle-deep inside of her. He sharply blew over her clit, his fingers curling at the roof of her cunt, nudging at her spot with torturous accuracy as he flattened his tongue against her.

“Please, no — umphh — too much! Too much!” She tried to wiggle away, hands pushing at his head. But he was relentless in his torment, suctioning his mouth to her while his fingers went to town on her sodden passage, her silky walls clamping around them. His pacing was calculated, twisting his fingers to widen her for his even girthier cock, and he meandered his thumb through the drenched canal of her swollen pussy before pushing it down onto her spent clit — rosy and flared from the thorough attention he'd gifted it.

“Stop! No more, please..” Tears were brimming in her eyes, her face damp with sweat and feet cramping behind his head as her toes curled. Did he stop? Fuck, no. This man was starving, and the delectable juices that seeped from her were quenching his thirst perfectly.

He nuzzled his face into her cunt, shaking his head ‘no’ as he goaded her climax with the agonizingly slow speed in which his fingers toiled with her, his blunt fingertips jabbing at her g-spot persistently. Her honey-sweet sap began to dribble down his wrist as it flexed with the steady tempo of his movements, her pussy squelching around the joints of his fingers as she sucked them deeper.

She grappled at the sheets now, teeth gritted so hard she thought they might shatter. “I can't.” Her whine travelled to deaf ears, and he slithered a hand up to her hip, manually grinding her down onto his palm as his fingers fucked her into bliss. A strangled moan forced itself from her throat as he ground her against it, his rough skin offering the dreamiest of sensations, and soon enough she was a writhing mess. Y/n groaned when he removed his fingers, somewhat relieved as the strange knot that was forming in her tummy unravelled, but also disappointed at the emptiness.

“Damn, ya taste so fuckin’ sweet. The hell do y'all be eatin’?” Quartich’s words were slurred, his nose, chin and part of his neck shimmering with her arousal. Y/n’s chest was heaving, her eyes squinted and strands of her black hair caked to her face. “Uh, erm… hexapedes, tapirus— oh!” His tongue replaced his fingers, expertly massaging at the velvet hood of her cunt, his hand now flat against her lower belly to hold her in place. She contracted around his tongue, her pussy convulsing as it fucked her.

“Touch yerself.” He ordered, his tongue only withdrawing long enough to speak those words before it was back inside her with clumsy fervor. Y/n faltered, far too occupied by the way her legs trembled and tail whipped as an unearthly, white heat began to bubble in her core once again. “W… mmph… what?”

He growled, the guttural vibration of it spurring her approaching release as he reached to yank one of her hands down, positioning two of her fingers at her clit before applying pressure in circular motions, his tongue still darting in and out of her. “Like that.” He instructed, letting go of her wrist so he could take care of his own needs, the head of his painfully hard cock dripping with beads of precum.

He moaned into her cunt, the combination of her flavor and the sight of her pleasuring herself fueling his movements as he fisted his dick. The way he vigorously tugged at it caused her legs to slide from the rigid slants of his shoulders and it lured a snarl from him. He hoisted her pelvis up, delving back into her with a ravenous appetite to keep going until she came undone all over his face. Y/n yelped, the rubbing of her fingers growing sloppier — not that they were precise, to begin with. “I can't, I can't. Please stop.” She swore she heard his eyes roll within their sockets, an irritated rumble gargling from his chest and echoing into her abused hole.

She tore her hand from her exhausted clit, feet now digging into his clavicles in an attempt to push him out of her. He growled against her possessively, his fingertips embedded into the curves of her hips and ass. “Fuckin’ let go, c’mon.” He coaxed her, jerking himself slowly while she quivered and fidgeted, her tail coiling around his wrist as she tried to refrain from relishing in the pleasure he was providing her.

“Ya can do it, Y/n. Cum fer me.”

It was like a switch was flipped when her name passed through his lips, and when those same lips puckered against her to leave trails of soft pecks across her inner thighs, she finally relented — the knot in her stomach untwisting, bursting delightfully. She cried out, tail tautening around his forearm before it fell limply over Quaritch’s shoulder. He caressed a hand over her tummy as it tensed with her release, her sticky sweetness flowing in sporadic streams into his awaiting mouth. Painting his tongue white, he gulped her down as his hooded eyes watched her try to gather some composure, her mouth ajar and tear tracks staining her flushed cheeks.

Lifting his face from between her legs with a ‘pop’, a string of cum stretched from her cunt to his chin like a cobweb. Quaritch wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling on top of her, his cock bumping against her throbbing clit as he did. He wasn't even sure she felt it, her sensitive pussy probably numbed by her first-ever orgasm. He tilted her chin toward him, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at him. His thumb pulled her lower lip down a little more, before he spat the dregs of her juices onto her tongue.

“Last chance, doll.” His words came out in a purr, clearly content with what had just transpired. He knelt above her, her thighs draped lazily over his as she recovered from her high. “Where’s Jake Sully?” Quaritch lined himself up at her entrance, large hands able to meet one another as they wrapped around the thin width of her waist, fingertips still shrivelled from her cunt’s interior as they locked around the small of her back.

“F…fuck you…” She managed to whisper, scarcely aware of her surroundings. He grinned broadly, teeth still coated as he slid his tongue over them. “Allow me, darlin’.” And with that, he snapped his hips forward, slamming inside of her to the hilt. Y/n’s eyes shot open like vinyls, her back arching as he filled her impossibly. “Tsahey!” [Shit!] She wailed, her abs rippling and blood seeping from her cuts with the arc of her stomach. She whimpered with the pain of his abrupt penetration, fangs indenting her bottom lip.

Quaritch’s hench physique appeared shredded as she consumed him, sweat already dripping from his pores as the sheen insinuated his strain. “How are ya so damn tight?” He hissed through gritted teeth, his solid chest rising rapidly as he remained still within her. “I- nngh… I don't think I can!” Y/n reached for him, her face desperate and eyes watering. His nostrils flared as he allowed his cock to sit in the moist comfort of her sheath, the veins that spiralled his arms like vines palpitating.

“Where’s Jake Sully?” He questioned for the fifth or sixth time. He knew she wouldn't tell him, but giving her the option meant she could only blame herself for what was to come, right? She huffed, wringing her knuckles into her eyes before sweeping her hands over her face. “I'm not… I can't tell you…”

Quaritch nodded, pulling himself all the way out. He clasped the base of his dick, dragging the weeping head through her folds and back down again. “D’ya really want me to stop?” He queried, teasing her hole as it clenched around his tip. She chose not to answer, revolted by her pleasure and the fact she didn't really want it to end. She knew how her silence would be perceived — she’d learned from last time.

If it meant she'd be returning home, her father’s reputation intact at the cost of hers, so be it.

He chuckled, mixing his precum with the remnants of her release. “Outstanding.” He cooed, spitting into his palm so he could stroke himself, before positioning his cock at her cunt again. He locked her legs around his hips and gradually pushed into her, head falling back as she squeezed around his shaft. He wasn't concerned about the burn he knew she was experiencing, he'd already bottomed out once.

This was for his pleasure. His release. He’d taken his time with preparing her, with coaxing her to squirt out her gratitude like a drinking fountain.

“Hurts, don't it?” He slipped his entire length inside of her, revelling in the sight of his pelvic bone pressing into her swollen pussy. “Mm-hmmm,” Y/n mumbled, her hand blanketing her mouth at the stretch of his girth. “It won't for long.” He reassured, patting her thigh as he pulled half out, before easing his entirety back in.

“Ready?”

Y/n groaned, her body aching and exhausted. She just wanted to go home — that was what it had all been about. “Just do it.”

His ears twitched as he smirked. “Yes, ma'am.”

Yanking himself from her depth yet again, he took hold of her legs and pushed them to the side. She grunted as he splayed his hand over her stomach, spreading her blood over her flesh as the sweat of his palms stung her cuts and tugged at their stitching. He lifted her into a cat pose, pressing her spine inward so the rounded curve of her back arched, her ass angled up and her tail wafting the stuffy air.

Spreading her cheeks apart, he grinned at the mess he'd made of her. She was red-raw, her cunt visibly pulsating as her legs shivered. Y/n rocked slightly on her hands and knees, sucking in little breaths here and there when she began to wonder what was taking him so long. She felt him imprint open-mouthed kisses over the length of her back, his tongue poking out to lick between her shoulder blades. Quaritch leaned over her, his hands planting on either side of hers as he tucked her into his front, his erection cushioned between her thighs.

He lifted a hand to roll one of her clothed nipples between his thumb and forefinger, giving her breast a gentle squeeze before taking hold of her braid. Her frame went stiff beneath him, heart thumping as she felt him reach for his own. “Kehe…” [No…] She tried to tell him, straining her neck to look at him over her shoulder. “Don't.” He ignored her, straightening his back so he could pinch the ends of their queues, encouraging their pink tendrils to emerge. Y/n stared at him, watching as their nerves gravitated toward one another as if seeking each other out. “Rutxe, rä’ä!” [Please don't!]

He connected them — conjoining their senses as they bonded.

Y/n gasped, fingers scrunching his sheets into tight fists as she felt him. His head lolled forward, letting go of their queues to brace his hands on her hips. He felt her fear. Her longing to see her siblings again, her instincts to fend for them. Her adoration for her mother and her devotion to her father. He felt it all like an epiphany.

He bent over her rigid body, covering her hands with his far larger ones, he interlocked their fingers and stuffed her impossibly full. They both moaned in unison, not only at their own pleasure but that of each others’. Y/n pressed further against him despite the dull pang of her injuries — her ass pushing back, allowing him to spear into her balls-deep. Quaritch had impaled her, and she thought she might actually split in two.

He started with a steady rhythm, rocking into her as he searched for the sweet spot at the top of her cervix. He felt a heavenly jolt within his own core thanks to their attached queues, and her pussy spasmed around him. Found it. Jamming her waist even snugger against him, he began mercilessly slamming into her, making sure to hit that spot without fail with every thrust.

Y/n was a whimpering ragdoll beneath him, her arms struggling to hold her weight up as tears forced themselves through her clenched eyelids. He was so big. The length of his dick throbbed within her, dragging against her walls lusciously as the little ridges that embellished it expanded and convulsed. Quaritch hid his face in the crook of her neck, clamping his fangs down onto the soft flesh as his balls clapped lewdly against her ass. She gasped, mouth falling open as he soothed the bite mark with his tongue, still hot from feasting on her.

“Oh, Great Mother…” She groaned, drool cascading down her chin when his cock drove into the sponginess of her g-spot, the speed of his drilling becoming more and more irregular as they both neared ecstasy. “So. Fuckin’. Tight.” He proclaimed between thrusts. “An’. All. Fuckin’. Mine.” The last word was spoken in a growl, and it would have intimidated y/n had he not been fucking her dumb.

“I need — ah! — I need…” She was silenced by his palm clasping over her mouth, his rutting refusing to cease as he humped into her like a lion in heat. Her eyes began to roll back, her body wanting to collapse yet he forbade her any such privilege, his arm promptly enveloping her midriff like a belt as he pulled her up against his chest. The change in positions deepened his angle, and they both saw Eywa flash behind their eyelids at their melded rapture.

Y/n threw her arm back as her string snapped, her hand gripping for his neck as a second orgasm washed over her. Her cunt milked his cock with absurd greed, the squelching of her juices exploding like a busted dam only fueling Quaritch to chase his own. The sound of skin slapping skin only prolonged as he sought out his fast-approaching high, ignoring how she tried to escape his hold from the hypersensitivity of her abused pussy.

He didn't care. Twice, she had came. It was his turn.

“Feels so good, baby.” His words were jumbled, his mind fogged with his intoxication. The man was pussy-drunk, that went without saying. And when her cervix compressed around him, he let out a throaty snarl, face burying into y/n’s damp, black hair. He released her from his arms, letting her fall flat onto her front as he took himself in his fist, emptying his pent-up load over her tailbone.

It spewed out in thick, heavy sprays, trickling down her ass crack and onto her nothing short of wrecked pussy. He gave her ass a ‘good job’ pat and squeezed the base of her tail, causing it to twitch, before disconnecting their queues and standing from his bed.

“You've gotta job to do fer me, sweet darlin’.” He rasped, tucking himself into his boxers as he plucked his discarded cargos from the floor. Y/n rolled her head to the side, watching him through hazy vision. She couldn't comprehend his immediate recuperation — she was certain she’d struggle with the art of walking for at least a week. So, unable to trust herself to even wiggle her toe effectively, she remained a mere tangled heap atop his mattress.

He crouched so he was in front of her, now fully clothed, and tilted his head to meet her tired eyes. “Ya go on an’ tell yer daddy what happens when he hides from me. Ya make sure he knows that his cowardice cost his daughter her pretty lil’ flower. You tell him who ruined ya like this, an’ you’ll damn-well tell him why. I want it to eat him alive at night when he tries to sleep. I want him to be able to picture it when he looks me in the eye, if he even can after he smells your scent on me…”

Y/n could only look at him silently as he spoke, her skin crawling at his words and the way she’d allowed him to use her to his advantage.

“Ya tell him I corrupted ya. Took ya. Mated ya. Ya tell it all. I want him all wound up when he comes fer me. That's what ya want when you're at war with someone. People don't think straight when they're angry — when they've gotta family to lose. They get ‘emselves killed.”

Her tail curled, eyes squinting to glare at him as he stood. She didn't know why his words stabbed at her heart or curdled in her recently rearranged gut. She despised him, and he didn't seem to care for her. The unbearable dread kicked in next, the mental image of her father's face when he discovers the unfolding of this event lay siege in her clouded mind.

She had betrayed him, she knew that. She had disgraced Eywa, she knew that too. And now that the deed was done, she couldn't help but wonder if it was worth the shame she’d brought upon her people. Her family.

She felt lost — tsaheylu robbed of her, as well as her innocence. She didn't know why he'd unified them. Perhaps it was an impulsive act of getting caught in the moment, or maybe it was purely a malicious way of making her life a misery — to be emotionally bonded to her father’s long-standing nemesis for life, if he let her live much longer, that was.

The thud of his combat boots against the floor broke her train of thought, and she leaned up on her elbows, the slightest movement making her wince. “Think ya can manage that, sweetness?” He asked, to which she scowled, tail swaying angrily behind her. Quaritch nodded at the wordless response, her expression speaking loud enough.

“Get yerself dressed an’ cleaned up. Someone will escort ya back to where ya came from, you'll find yer way home from there I'm sure.” The doors hissed as they opened for him, and he left the room without sparing a backwards glance.

Y/n watched the doors seal shut behind him, and fisted her hair as tears gushed from her eyes. “Forgive me, Eywa. Forgive me, Mother.” She muttered, stuttering slightly as she tried to contain her guilt. “Forgive me, Father.”

wip

"why dontcha sit in my lap and tell me aallll about it?" 😇

(finished it for you turds. enjoy. can be anyone you like-- yes, i will be making some in the future with 4 fingers, too.)