Top Posts Tagged with #miles quartich

𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴?

Pairings: Miles Quaritch x fem mangkwan! Reader

Summary: you paint Quaritch’s battle markings, a heated moment sparking a rivalry between you and your sister varang.

Warnings: jealousy, conflict between sisters, love triangle?, slow burn undertones, sensual undertones, flirting, lmk if i missed anything.

Notes: this is something short until i figure out what i want to do for part 2.

Word count: 1.6k

The fire had burned lower by the time you finished mixing the pigment.

Most of the warriors were already marked for battle, Red flame streaks, ash lines, symbols that meant fury and rebirth.

Laughter and low conversation carried across the village but he was still standing there, waiting.

You knew he was.

He stood off to the side again, the firelight rolling across the scars on his chest.

You walked over with the bowl of pigment, pretending you weren’t nervous.

His eyes lifted the moment you approached, slow and knowing.

“Took you long enough, sweetheart.” he said.

•18+ Adults Only

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Little Bunny

Toxic?Recom!MilesQuaritch x Fem!Human!Reader

Inspired by "The single reason I would ever kick you out of bed would be to have my way with you on the floor." somehow 😭

synopsis: Porn with minimal plot. Except the plot is that I'm a whore for recom miles quartich and in love with the idea of him manhandling me. :)

content warnings: Dark/Obsessive Themes, Possessive/Manipulative Behavior, Psychological Power Play, Yandere Elements, Non-Consensual, Sexual Themes / Mature Content, Coercion / Control Dynamics, Dubious Consent, p in v, blowjob, nipple play, slight cumplay.

word count: 1.9k

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The dim glow of the bioluminescent lamps in Quaritch’s quarters cast shifting shadows across the room, flickering like the firelight from the battlefield he’d just returned from.

It was a stark contrast to what waited for him here.

His massive, blue-skinned frame, marked with the battle scars, loomed over the small bed where you lay curled up. Soft and small like a sleepy little bunny.

#avatar pandora #atwow #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #avatar eywa #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar 2009 #afop #recom quaritch x reader #recom quaritch #recom miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #miles quartich #writers on tumblr #creative writing

Recom Quaritch ♥

Digital pencil

#miles quartich #recom quaritch #avatar #avatar quaritch #colonel quaritch #quaritch art #avatar art #afaa #avatar fire and ash #avatar fanart #recom miles quaritch #art #my art

Avatar ~ NEW DESIGNS ~ available for pillow! Get yours! 💙 https://www.etsy.com/es/listing/4431933634/avatar-pillow-plushies

#mibustore #mibustore pillow #mibustorepillow #avatar fanart #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar fire and ash #jake suly #neytiri #tsu'tey #miles quartich #colonel quaritch #recom quaritch #varang #varang x quaritch #quaritch x varang #quaritch x reader #avatar headcanons

Embers Between Teeth (Varang x Quaritch x Reader)

Summary: A warrior of the Ash People finally meets the Olo’eyktan Varang and her Recom mate Quaritch after weeks of being secretly watched by them. ㅤꨄ︎

Warnings: Power dynamics, stalking themes, knife play, blood play, drug use, explicit sexual content.

The feeling of being watched had become a familiar itch between your shoulder blades.

For three cycles of the molten moon you had felt it—a presence just beyond the steam curtains, a shape that melted into the basalt shadows whenever you turned. You were a hunter of the Ash People, born to the fumarole fields where the ground wept sulfur and the sky ran red with the mountain’s breath. You knew how to track a yerik through a thermal maze, how to feel the shift in air pressure before a vent opened beneath your feet. Being watched should have been nothing.

But this was different. This wasn’t prey. This was something patient, something assessing. Something that never let you see it, yet always wanted you to know it was there.

Tonight you’d stripped off your ash-cloth wraps and stood in the mineral spring below the village, letting the hot, bitter water sluice the volcanic grit from your blue-grey skin. Steam coiled around your thighs, your breasts, the sensitive tips of your ears. You closed your eyes and tilted your head back—and there it was again. A weight of observation. A hot, slow exhale from the rock ledge above.

You didn’t startle. You’d learned not to. Instead you opened your eyes and stared directly at the spot where the shadow was too thick.

Nothing. Then, barely audible over the bubbling spring, a low, almost pleased hum. Two voices blending into one.

You knew then. Everyone in the clan knew that their Olo’eyktan Varang had taken the sky-demon colonel into her furs, a pairing of fire and alien steel that made the elders mutter and the warriors avert their eyes out of respect. Quaritch, the recom who now wore ash-clan beads woven into his tactical vest, who had snorted the sacred yur’kali dust in front of the entire council and not flinched. They were a matched blade, Varang and her colonel. Untouchable. Lethal. And apparently, they had been watching you.

The summons came at the hour when the mountain groaned and spat, when the braziers were lit and the village quieted to the rhythm of distant drums. A warrior-priestess with ochre-smeared cheeks appeared at the flap of your family’s soot-stone dwelling and said only: “The Olo’eyktan sees your ember. Come.”

You followed, heart a slow, steady drum. You were not afraid. You were a daughter of the fire people, your body lean and strong, your avatar-born tail swaying with a life of its own. Whatever trial this was, you would meet it.

•18+ Adults Only

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Avatar Incorrect quotes#77 Torture

Y/n*Is drawing Tsu'tey like Aphrodite, sitting on top of Quadritch as Spider went out to find the others* He's Hissy...Grouchy...Treacherous...Anti-social...He's everything I want...Everyone judges me, but I'll be the first to say it~

Y/n*Kisses the finished drawing* I love you horrendously emotionally constipated Na'vi warrior~THAT'S my babygurl~

Quadritch*Looking at you weirdly, as he is tied and has his own sock stuffed into his mouth*...

Hi love, could we get like a shy, stuttering lab lady y/n you know the cute type nerdy girl really beautiful tho not your typical lab rat and human Quaritch taking interest in her taking her on a date and somehow end it with smut but with some context tho ♥️♥️♥️

She Wasn’t Supposed to Be Noticed

Pairing: miles x y/n

Warnings: smut, nsfw, MDNI

A/n: Hiya my love thank you for the request 😊 I hope you enjoy 😉

"Y-you spilled the—the methylene blue again," she stammered, fingers tightening around the edge of her lab coat as Colonel Miles Quaritch loomed over the workstation, his broad frame casting a shadow across her meticulously labeled petri dishes. Dr. Y/N L/N—tiny, bespectacled, and currently wishing the floor would swallow her whole—watched in quiet horror as the blue stain seeped into her notes. Again.

The stain spread like a tiny, rebellious ocean across her data sheets, and Miles didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic. Instead, he smirked, that infuriating tilt of his lips that made her stomach do something entirely unscientific. "Oops," he said, voice like gravel, and she swore she heard the ghost of a chuckle under it.

Dr. Y/N L/N had survived three years in this lab without incident—until *he* started lingering by her station. Colonel Miles Quaritch, all broad shoulders and sharp eyes, who had no business hovering near her electrophoresis gels unless he was deliberately trying to ruin her concentration. And yet, here he was. Again. "You're—you're *leaning*," she managed, voice barely above a whisper, as his forearm brushed against her shoulder while he reached for a pen she definitely hadn’t offered.

The pen rolled between his fingers—her pen, the one with the chewed cap and the tiny dinosaur sticker peeling at the edges—and Quaritch watched her with the kind of focus usually reserved for tactical briefings. "You know," he said, slow, deliberate, "for someone who stutters when she talks, you’ve got the steadiest hands in this lab." His thumb brushed the sticker, smudging it further. "That’s interesting."

Y/N’s pulse stuttered. Interesting wasn’t a word people used for her. Efficient, maybe. Quiet, always. But interesting? That was new. She opened her mouth, closed it, then tried again. "I—I just. Like the work."

The dinosaur sticker finally gave up its fight against friction when Quaritch’s thumb pressed it flat against the pen barrel. Y/N watched its demise with the same detached fascination she usually reserved for observing bacterial colonies under a microscope—something inevitable happening in slow motion. "Steady hands don’t mean much when your notes look like a preschooler’s watercolor project," he said, nodding at the methylene blue disaster. His voice was gruff, but there was an unfamiliar lightness to it, like he was testing out a joke. On her.

Three days later, Y/N nearly dropped her centrifuge tubes when Quaritch appeared beside her station holding two takeout containers of pad thai. "You eat lunch at 3:17 PM every day," he said, as if this were a normal observation and not borderline stalking. "Figured you might want company for once." The noodles smelled like lemongrass and peanuts, and Y/N’s stomach growled traitorously. She blinked up at him, her glasses sliding down her nose. "I—I usually just. Eat at my desk."

The pad thai incident turned into coffee breaks, then into shared glances across the lab, then—somehow—into Quaritch leaning against her doorway one evening, arms crossed, asking if she’d ever been to the observatory on the west ridge. "N-no," she’d stammered, adjusting her glasses. "Too—too much light pollution here for—for decent astral observation." He’d grinned, slow and predatory, and said, "Good thing I’m not asking you to *observe*, doc."

Three hours later, Y/N found herself bundled into his truck, knees pressed together under the dash like she was afraid to take up space. Quaritch drove one-handed, the other resting on the gearshift, his thumb tapping an absent rhythm. The observatory was closed, of course—it was 11 PM on a Tuesday—but he parked sideways across two spaces like he owned the place, then tossed her a thermos from the backseat. "Hot chocolate," he said, like it wasn’t a revelation. "Figured you’d complain if I brought coffee this late."

The hot chocolate was too sweet, just how Y/N liked it, and that fact alone made her fingers tighten around the thermos. She hadn’t told him that. Had she? Quaritch leaned against the truck’s hood, legs stretched out, watching the stars like they owed him money. "You ever just… stop?" he asked suddenly, voice rough. "Just stop and *look*?"

Y/N followed his gaze upward. The sky was a sprawl of light, clearer out here than in the lab’s smog-choked quadrant. "I—I mostly look at things under microscopes," she admitted, then winced at how pathetic it sounded. But Quaritch just huffed a laugh, shoulder brushing hers as he reached for the thermos. His fingers lingered a second too long when she handed it back.

"You’re missing out, doc." He took a swig, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and nodded at the observatory’s darkened dome. "That thing’s got a telescope older than my granddaddy. Seen Saturn’s rings through it once. Looked like someone stuck a frisbee in space." The absurdity of the image startled a laugh out of her—real, unfiltered—and Quaritch’s smirk softened into something warmer. "There you go," he murmured, like he’d been waiting for it.

They stayed like that until the thermos was empty and Y/N’s toes had gone numb in her sensible shoes. Quaritch peeled himself off the hood with a groan. "C’mon, genius. Can’t have you freezing to death." He held the passenger door open for her, which was… unexpected. As was the way his hand hovered near her lower back—not touching, just there—as she climbed in.

The truck’s heater roared to life, blasting air that smelled faintly of gun oil and pine. Y/N fidgeted with her seatbelt. "Th-thank you," she managed. "For tonight." Quaritch grunted, but his knuckles whitened on the wheel. She swallowed. "I—I have a telescope. At home. Not as good as the observatory’s, but…" Her pulse hammered in her throat. "You could—if you wanted—come see it."

Silence. Then Quaritch’s grip eased. He turned his head just enough to catch her in that sidelong stare. "That an invitation, Dr. L/N?" His voice was low, teasing, but there was a tension underneath—like he was holding his breath.

The porch light flickered when Y/N fumbled with her keys, her fingers suddenly all thumbs under Quaritch’s quiet scrutiny. She could feel the heat of him behind her, close enough that the night air between them seemed charged, like the moment before a lightning strike. "It’s—it’s not much," she mumbled, pushing the door open to reveal a cramped living room dominated by a secondhand telescope pointed at the bay window. A stack of astronomy journals teetered precariously on the coffee table beside a half-finished mug of tea—cold, probably from three nights ago.

Quaritch stepped inside like he was assessing a battlefield, his boots heavy on the hardwood. "Nice place," he said, though his eyes weren’t on the furniture. They tracked the line of her throat as she shrugged off her coat, the way her fingers nervously adjusted her glasses. He reached past her to tap the telescope’s eyepiece. "This the famous equipment?"

"F-famous?" Y/N’s laugh came out breathless. She knelt by the scope, twisting a dial with practiced ease. "It’s just a Celestron. Basic model." The familiar ritual of adjusting the focus steadied her hands, if not her pulse. "Jupiter’s visible tonight if you—if you want to see."

Quaritch crouched beside her, his knee brushing hers. "Lead the way, doc."

She did, guiding him to the eyepiece, her voice losing its stutter as she explained the gas giant’s bands, the Galilean moons. He listened—actually listened—his rough "huh" of surprise when he spotted Europa tightening something low in her stomach. His shoulder pressed warm against hers, and she caught the scent of gun oil again, mingled with something darker, earthier.

"Steadier than the lab scopes," he remarked, pulling back to look at her instead of the sky. The way his gaze dropped to her mouth wasn’t subtle.

Y/N’s breath hitched. The telescope forgotten, her fingers twitched against the focus knob. "Y-you’re not—not even looking at Jupiter anymore."

Quaritch smirked. "Nope." One calloused hand cupped her jaw, thumb tracing the hinge where her pulse rabbited. "Been thinking about this since you called me out for leaning."

She should’ve said something clever. Should’ve pushed him away. Instead, her glasses fogged as his breath warmed her lips. The first brush of his mouth was testing—softer than she expected. The second wasn’t. His teeth caught her lower lip, and the noise she made would’ve embarrassed her if his grip hadn’t tightened, pulling her flush against him.

Somehow, they stumbled backward onto the couch, Quaritch’s knee between hers, her hands fisted in his shirt. The stack of astronomy journals toppled, forgotten. "Fuck," he growled against her throat, "knew you’d be like this."

"L-like what?" She gasped as his teeth grazed her collarbone.

"Responsive." His palm slid up her thigh, rucking her skirt. "All those little noises you try to hide in the lab?" A nip at her earlobe. "Bet I can get 'em louder."

She should’ve been mortified. Instead, her hips jerked. His laugh was dark, satisfied. The telescope rattled when he shoved her onto the cushions, her glasses askew. "Keep those steady hands where I can see 'em, doc."

Her breath hitched when his fingers found the clasp of her bra. Methodical, precise—like he’d studied the blueprints. "Y-you—"

"Pay attention?" His teeth scraped her nipple. "Damn right." The fabric tore. She didn’t care.

The telescope rattled again when Quaritch hauled her up from the couch, one arm hooked under her thighs, the other cradling her back like she weighed nothing. Y/N’s breath caught as he carried her down the hallway—past the framed star charts and the overloaded bookshelf—her fingers digging into his shoulders. "Miles—" she started, then gasped when he kicked her bedroom door open with a bootheel.

The room was small, dimly lit by a salt lamp that cast amber shadows across the rumpled sheets. Quaritch dumped her onto the mattress with a grunt, his eyes raking over her disheveled lab coat, the torn bra clinging to her shoulders. "Christ, doc," he muttered, dragging a hand through his cropped hair. "You look like a goddamn crime scene."

The salt lamp’s glow turned Quaritch’s scars into gilded ridges as he stripped off his shirt, the fabric hitting the floor with a sound like surrender. Y/N’s throat went dry. She’d seen him in tactical gear, in lab-appropriate polos, but never like this—all coiled muscle and old wounds, his chest rising faster than his usual controlled breaths. "You’re staring, doc," he rasped, unbuckling his belt with a sharp tug.

She should’ve looked away. Instead, her fingers twitched toward him, hovering over a pale slash along his ribs. "D-did this—"

Quaritch caught her wrist before her fingers could make contact, his grip firm but not punishing. "Got it in Venezuela," he said, voice rough as if the memory still grated. "Some asshole with a machete thought he could sneak up on me." His thumb pressed into her pulse point, a silent dare. "Guess how that worked out for him."

Y/N swallowed hard, her fingers curling reflexively against his palm. The scar was raised, uneven—a violent contrast to the controlled precision of his usual movements. "I—I didn't mean to—"

Quaritch didn’t let her finish. His mouth crashed into hers, swallowing her stuttered apology like it was nothing more than an inconvenient pause. The taste of gun oil and hot chocolate clung to his tongue, a contradiction that made her head spin. Y/N’s fingers scrabbled at his belt, her usual precision abandoned in favor of sheer, desperate need. The buckle gave with a metallic snick, and Quaritch groaned against her lips, his hands already dragging her lab coat off her shoulders.

The fabric pooled around her elbows, trapping her arms momentarily, and Quaritch took full advantage, pinning her wrists to the mattress with one broad hand. "Still steady, doc?" he taunted, his free hand skating down her ribs to where her blouse was half-unbuttoned. Y/N’s breath hitched as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, callouses scraping over sensitive skin. "N-no," she admitted, arching into his touch. The admission seemed to thrill him—his grin was all teeth, predatory and pleased.

He made quick work of the remaining buttons, his movements efficient, almost clinical, until his palm cupped her breast and his thumb swiped over her nipple. Then the control fractured. A ragged groan tore from his throat when she gasped, her hips lifting off the mattress. "Fuck," he muttered, bending to replace his fingers with his mouth. The heat of his tongue drew another broken sound from her, and Quaritch’s grip on her wrists tightened. "Louder," he demanded against her skin, and when she whimpered, he bit down—just enough to make her jerk.

The lab coat was lost somewhere in the tangle of sheets, her blouse following soon after. Quaritch paused only to strip off his own pants, kicking them aside with a muttered curse. The sight of him—all corded muscle and thick arousal—should’ve been intimidating. Instead, Y/N reached for him, her fingers trembling but determined. She traced the line of his hipbone, down to where he was already leaking against his stomach. His hiss was sharp, gratifying. "Christ, doc," he gritted out, catching her hand. "You keep doing that, this’ll be over before it starts."

But she didn’t stop. Emboldened by the way his pupils blew wider, she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking experimentally. Quaritch’s breath stuttered, his forehead dropping to her shoulder. "Goddamn—" His hips jerked into her grip, his control visibly unraveling. "You—" Another thrust. "—little—" His fingers tangled in her hair. "—*scientist*."

Y/N had never felt powerful like this—not in the lab, not anywhere. Here, with Quaritch panting against her throat, his body responding to her every touch, she felt *devastating*. She tightened her grip, twisting slightly on the upstroke the way she’d read in those clandestine articles tucked between her astronomy journals. Quaritch made a sound like he’d been shot, his hand clamping over hers to still her movements. "Enough," he growled, pressing her back into the pillows. "My turn."

His mouth was hot and insistent as he kissed down her body, pausing to nip at the soft skin of her inner thighs. Y/N squirmed, her fingers twisting in the sheets. "Miles—" His name came out as a plea, and he chuckled darkly, his breath ghosting over where she ached most. "Patience, doc." Then his tongue slid through her folds, and her back bowed off the bed.

Quaritch didn’t tease—not now. His tongue flicked over her clit with ruthless precision, as methodical as he was in the lab, but twice as filthy. Y/N’s hips jerked uncontrollably, her moans pitched higher with every stroke. "Like that," he murmured against her, his fingers digging into her thighs to hold her still. "Just like that." She came with a cry, her vision whiting out as he worked her through it, his tongue relentless until she pushed at his shoulders, oversensitive.

He didn’t give her time to recover. Rising over her, Quaritch lined himself up, his gaze locked on hers as he pressed in with one slow thrust. Y/N gasped at the stretch, her nails scoring his back. "Fuck," he gritted out, his forehead dropping to hers. "You—" Another inch. "—feel—" Her hips lifted to meet his. "—*perfect*."

The rhythm they found was rough, desperate—nothing like the clinical precision of their lab work. Quaritch fucked her like he was trying to imprint himself on her skin, his thrusts deep and punishing. Y/N matched him move for move, her legs hooked around his waist, her moans muffled against his shoulder. "Look at me," he demanded, catching her chin when her eyes fluttered shut. She obeyed, her gaze locking with his as he angled his hips just so, hitting a spot that made her cry out.

Quaritch smirked, triumphant, his pace never faltering. "Knew you’d sound like that," he rasped, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "All those quiet little sighs in the lab—" He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust. "—bet you’re loud as hell when you come."

She was. The orgasm ripped through her without warning, her back arching as she clung to him, her thighs trembling around his waist. Quaritch followed her over the edge with a groan, his hips stuttering as he spilled into her, his forehead pressed to hers.

The salt lamp's glow painted Quaritch's sweat-slicked shoulders in amber as he rolled off her, his breathing still ragged. Y/N's body tingled with aftershocks, her limbs loose and heavy, but when he reached for the tangled sheets, she caught his wrist—a reversal of their earlier dynamic that made his brow arch. "C-cold," she murmured, her stutter returning now that the adrenaline had faded.

Quaritch snorted but tugged the comforter over them both, his movements surprisingly careful for a man who'd just fucked her into the mattress. "Stealing my moves, doc?" he rasped, but when she shivered against him, his arm curled around her shoulders, pulling her flush against his chest. The warmth of him was immediate, solid—like being pressed against a furnace.

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So, hiiii! 🕷️✨

I’ve been thinking about something for a while now, and I finally decided to share it because I genuinely believe it could be a lot of fun for a lot of people here.

I wanted to propose a Spider-centric event that anyone can join in on! if you enjoy anything Spider related, this is your chance to create and share whatever inspires you. You can participate however you like..write fanfiction, draw fanart, make edits, create videos, moodboards, or anything else you’re into. There are no limits on format or platform either, so whether you prefer TikTok, Instagram, AO3, Twitter, or something else entirely, it all works!

The only thing I’d ask is that you tag your posts with “Spider-centric week 2026” so everyone can easily find each other’s work. That way, we can all scroll through, support one another, and enjoy everything people come up with.✨✨

This isn’t meant to be competitive or stressful in any way. it’s just a space to have fun, be creative, and maybe connect a bit more as a community. Anyone can join, no matter your skill level or experience. The only guideline I’d like to keep is that everything shared should be made by you (so no AI generated fanfiction or fanart)

Other than that, go wild with it!! I’d really love to see what everyone creates, and I hope this turns into something we can all enjoy together 💫

The event will run from June 1st to June 7th, so there’s plenty of time beforehand to plan!!!