#DANCING WITH PLEASURE (NSFT)

[impulsivemuses]

For Mary 🌶️ Pet Play

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

You know it's funny, she's never ACTUALLY had a chance to do something like Pet play and she's been around for 2,300 something years. Call her curious, mayhaps? She's a lamb of course, so I COULD see her being treated lowly LIKE an animal, but that's as far as she's aware of what Pet play really is.

𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓼 — send 🌶️ and guess my muse's kinks.

[moonsglare]

feixiao x reader [nsft utc]

"w-when i said we should do cardio after you finished, i didn't me-- ngh--!"

feixiao cuts you off with another sinful roll of her hips, bullying the head of her thick cock already buried full in your squeezing cunt against that one spot that has your toes curling. your thighs tremble as she has you face down ass up on the bed, her large hands squeezing the meat of your hips appreciatively. you have to crane your head to the side to look over your shoulder up at her, and her expression is pulled into one of shameless smugness, a fanged grin wide on her lips.

"what was that?" she teases, snaking a hand down to tease your stiff clit with her thumb. you groan at that, half-muffled against the sheets, and her ear twitches at the sound. "c'mon, you're not complaining, are you?"

with what little brain capacity you have left, you huff, inner walls squeezing around her in a way that has her sucking in a sharp breath. "n-no," you manage, fingers curling into the sheets as she languidly moves her hips, her hips clapping against the back of your thighs. feixiao chuckles, leaning down to kiss between your shoulder blades, along the curve of your spine. you shiver at the feeling of her warm breath against your skin, and then the plushness of her lips, reflexively pushing back against her as you chase more of that sweet friction.

"that's what i thought, princess," feixiao croons as she bends over you like a crescent, one hand sliding over the back of yours and intertwining your fingers while the other continues to work lazy circles around your clit. she's a lot more relaxed this time, some of her energy having been worked off by her training. she's indulging fully in the way your velvety cunt wraps snug around her shaft, fluttering and clenching each time she draws back only to snap back inside. she noses and nips along your shoulders and nape, sucking and biting little marks into the skin there. she can taste the tang of your sweat salty on her tongue, and she licks a stripe along the column of your neck just to hear you whine. the sound goes straight to her cock, twitching inside you, and her ears press flat against her skull.

despite the slowness of her pace, it isn't very long until you're squirming beneath her, the muscles of your abdomen flexing and jumping as your orgasm creeps up on you. she feels it too, a coil low and heavy in her gut and a pressure under her skin trying to expand outward. she trades her long, deep strokes for sharp grinds against you, keeping her cock snugly buried in your tightness. it allows her to target your g-spot with ruthless efficiency, pulling hoarse moans and cries from your lips. her chest is pressed to your back now as she leans as far forward as she can to chase your mouth, eager and needy to swallow your moans in a bruising kiss, although it's much less of a kiss and more of a dance of teeth and tongue. your breath mingles with hers, praise intertwined with breathy pleas of her name, and she swears upon the stars she's going to give you what you want. everything, anything you want.

"that's it, princess," she grunts as she feels you cum around her with a low cry into her mouth, "that's it. pretty girl, so pretty for me, so perfect." your pleasure-addled noises slowly taper off into sweet begging for her, for her to fill you up and cum inside and god she wonders if you know the things it does to her. you probably do, on some base physical level, which is why you so often mewl it to her even when your brain is leaking out through your pussy around her dick. feixiao ruts harder against you, a rumbling growl building in her throat as she feels her balls draw up tight and her heart skip several beats in a row to the time of her thrusts. when she finally cums she sinks her teeth into your shoulder, not hard enough to break skin but certainly hard enough to leave a mark, and you must enjoy it because you cum again, pussy squeezing and fluttering around her length like you're trying to drain her dry. her hips stutter of their own accord, fucking deeper into your addicting heat before she feels the edge wear off, and she slowly lowers herself down on your back, her face pressed against your spine as she pants for breath. she doesn't pull out, not yet, she knows you don't like it when she pulls out too quickly, so she stays within you as you both recover, idly smoothing her hands up and down your sides. when she hears your breathing even out, she presses another kiss to your sweat-damp skin.

"alright?" she asks, and you only make an affirmative noise in response. she laughs a little breathlessly, rolling over with you in her arms so she's not smothering you with her weight. the movement jostles her cock in your cunt a little, making you whine, but she soothes you with another kiss to your shoulder. her hand sneaks down to brush over the bulge she forms in your tummy, and she feels that heat pulse low at the base of her spine, but you're so thoroughly fucked out as it is that she decides to keep it to the back of her mind. for now.

(maybe it'll be a different story when you both make it to the shower. whenever that is.)

a minute later, her wristwatch beeps. right, she'd forgotten to take it off. she glances at it--then grins like a cat more than a fox; three perfectly filled cardio rings shine innocently at her from the screen. she knows what she's doing for cardio from now on.

[knavesflames]

Anon: [Virgin reader who has Arle convinced she’s not a virgin and Arle realizes this mid-foreplay]

Hello 😧 I’m back with this. This time I believe I’ve read it correctly!! I made this one a bit longer for the inconvenience HAHAHA, either way, I hope you enjoy it now if you see this anon.

Word count: 1428

Contents: fingering, arlecchino being a lil tipsy, soft

Nsft utc!

You seem to realise about a year into your relationship that maybe you should have given up the lie. You’re not experienced, and if anything, you’re the complete opposite. You’ve barely kissed anyone. Arlecchino counts, obviously, but you’ve only kissed her and you’ve been lucky enough to worm your way out of sex and conversations about it every time.

Arlecchino is a busy woman, is she not? She is often away in Fontaine, or Sumeru, or Archons knows where else, it’s not exactly like she has time. Does it stop the murmured apologies spilling from her lips? No. Does it bother you? Also no. If anything, you’re worried for the day she figures it out. You shouldn’t have lied, you know this, but when the chance of being Arlecchino’s arose, you didn’t want her to come up with any reason to backtrack. So, you lied. Arlecchino is.. incredibly experienced, to say the least. You’ve heard the way the girls talk about The Knave in the town. How, way before you, she would go through three girls a night, at the same time, and none of them could think straight for the next week. You have no doubts she’d be gentle with you, and yet..

You don’t want to disappoint her. It isn’t that you don’t want to have sex, more that you’re worried you won’t be enough for her, you won’t be able to make her feel good (and that you’re nervous about your own pleasure).

So, what a shame (and a blessing) when she comes home tipsy after a Fatui gathering. You want to have sex with her so bad, so bad, in fact, you can feel it, and you wonder if this is the perfect time. She’s tipsy, she may not remember, and then you’re not really lying, are you?

It doesn’t seem to work out that way for you, though. Her kisses are as soft as always, but hungrier as she leads you towards the bedroom. Her hand is firm around your waist as she lowers you onto the bed, your satin nightdress billowing around you. You hear a small grunt as she flops down next to you before her lips meet yours again. Gracious when she’s tipsy, she is not. It’s almost comical, and you’d laugh if your head wasn’t running wild. Your hands move to remove her shirt, which is easy enough when she moves with you to help it along.

Mumbles of how good you smell and how tipsy she is leaves her lips and you manage to snicker in all your nervousness. The sound is quickly cut short by a sharp intake of breath when her fingers begin dancing up your thigh, your heart pounding more than it would, had you been experienced like you claim you are. Nevertheless, your own hands work their way under the waistband of her underwear, clumsily finding their way to where you’ve imagined touching her. You become lost in your thoughts, completely affected by the way you have to pretend you know what you’re doing, to the point you don’t even realise when she’s whispering your name softly.

Arlecchino’s eyebrows furrow and she uncharacteristically giggles as you try to find your way between her folds. It’s so clumsy, it’s almost like you haven’t done this before, and you’re the sober one. She studies you a little more, the way your lip is caught between your teeth, your breath a mix of nervousness and desire, and then it clicks. Her fingers wrap around your wrist, gently dragging your hand out of her underwear before her head rests on your shoulder.

“You haven’t done this before,” she murmurs as her lips graze against your neck. “Why did you lie?”

“I have!” You’re so quick to protest against her words, but to her, it’s just proving her point. With a soft sigh, she moves you on top of her so you can’t look away. You can tell in Arlecchino’s eyes she’s sobered up, at least a little.

“I mean this with a lot of affection, dear, but you can’t find the clitoris, and I am the drunk one.”

With a groan, you hide your face between her breasts in an attempt to conceal the heat on your cheeks. Her charred fingers move to your hair, carding through the strands as she questions you, her usually stern voice just a little softer.

“Do you want to, or are you agreeing because of me? Lie and I won’t be pleased.”

“I want to, I’m nervous.”

A low rumble leaves her throat, almost her usual laugh, and somehow more tipsy than the giggle she let out earlier. She flips the position, satisfied when she towers over you. “Then let me take care of you,” she whispers huskily against the shell of your ear. “I’ll show you how it works.”

Her eyebrow quirks, her red crosses piercing into your own irises as she waits for an answer. You pay attention the way your heart speeds up in pure excitement, and your body betrays any words that could leave your lips when you nod. You hear a hum leave Arlecchino’s mouth before her hands travel again, moving inside of the nightdress you so often wear. With your fingers twitching, you move under her waistband again, only for your hand to be gently pushed out.

“You tonight. Relax, I’ll make it nice.”

Your back instinctively arches when the pad of her thumb presses against your clit, your eyes closing as a shaky breath leaves your mouth. Her thumb pulls back quickly after, inspecting the newly achieved glisten on her skin. “So wet already,” she muses, locking her eyes on you as her thumb disappears beyond her lips. “You taste good, too.”

You make a noise that could only be described as a small whine in response. A whine of what, embarrassment? Arousal? You don’t know. Arlecchino does. Her thumb leaves her mouth with a pop before it meets the nerve bundle again, rubbing small, gentle circles to relax you. And relax you, it does, small noises of appreciation escaping you every so often.

“Ready?” She smirks against your cheek when you nod, making sure your lips are right next to her ear when she slides her finger inside of you, a shudder going down her spine at the delicious noise you made. Waiting until you’re comfortable, the finger stays unmoving until your hips buck up, initiating movement. It’s a slow rhythm, every pump and curl drawing out mewls and whines as your hands move to clutch at any part of her you can. One ends up around her shoulders, the other intertwined with her free hand.

“It’s okay,” she mumbles through her own heavy breath, clearly affected by your sounds and the movements of your hips against her middle finger. “Breathe, keep moving, keep making those pretty little sounds for me.”

Arlecchino’s words are punctuated by a particularly good curl and a small massage to the spongy spot inside of you, her own groan sounding in your ear when you flutter around her finger. “You’re so pretty. So pretty, and all mine, and I get to take you. Archons—“

The words are cut off by another groan, one that was clearly repressed for a few seconds. She isn’t even being touched, and somehow she’s receiving pleasure just from your own reactions. Either she’s desperate, or you just affect her that much. Her digits continue the movement, taking care to not scratch you with the nails she prides herself on, pressing and curling and pumping slowly until your whines are desperate and your walls are clenching against her.

“I know, baby, I know. Let it happen, hm? Remember to breathe. Good girl, you’re so good for me, aren’t you?” She breathes, smirking at your response (which is in fact, just another whimper). You feel it building and building until you feel like your skin is on fire and you’re about to explode, and then your back arches, your eyes shooting open as your hand tightens around hers. Your hips jerk up erratically, and she presses kisses to your forehead when you ride the high she’s so happy to have given you.

When you finally come down, able to make sense of the world around you, she chuckles, a low, velvety chuckle, making use of your nails to create goosebumps on your skin as she lazily drags them over your arm. “I was nice tonight, but if you ever lie to me about something as important as this again, I will not be as kind. Understand?”

[crowttore]

Auphie i am scooting into your inbox for your little writing event ૮  › ༝ ‹  ྀིა and asking for Diluc + hybrids? specifically bunny hybrids…if that is okay 👀 and it can be sfw or nsfw whatever you feel inspired to do! thank you so much love 🩷

Hehe, thank you for dropping by with a request, Gray ^w^ I hope I did it all justice ><

Tags: Diluc x afab reader, nsft, bunny hybrid reader, established relationship

Minors DNI

Even before receiving the eye of the gods, Diluc had always been told his body ran hot. Coupled with countless hours spent sparring in the sweltering sun, he was no stranger to being out of breath on the verge of dehydration.

It was no match for how delirious your sleepy whines had him, the heat unbearable as it crawled along his skin. By now, you'd surely realized the effect you had. The sharp hearing that came with your fuzzy ears was always quick to pick up on even the slightest change in pulse and breathing. And no doubt you could feel how his muscles clenched with every little mewl from your lips, his restraint working overtime on a job it would rather forfeit.

The sheets felt beyond soaked against his back, and yet it was nothing compared to the dampness that coated his length. Wet sounds bordering on obscene filled the room every time he let you sink down fully.

"Mmm.. 'luc- more please," your pleading was broken up by little gasps, desperation clear in the force with which your nails dug into his chest.

How could he ever refuse you? His hands seemed clumsy and almost brutish as one stroked the length of your floppy ear, relishing the tight squeeze around his length when he tugged gently at the silken fur.

With every languid roll of his hips, Diluc felt himself getting closer to snapping. A myriad of thoughts whirled through his mind; your glossy lips wrapped around his cock, the adorable way you stomped your foot when agitated, your laugh when he kissed your fingertips, the little twitches of your tail when he'd spread your folds and lapped up your essence-

White danced along the edges of his vision, barely able to keep himself from spilling inside you at the sight of your bared neck. It was almost painful to hear your desperate pleas for more when he instead stilled your hips. Though his own breathing was ragged and his thighs sore, Diluc was far from finished.

He grunted softly, bringing your head down to his chest, appeasing you by using his free hand to squeeze your rear, marvelling at how pliant your form was.

"Just a moment, dearest," he began, inhaling your familiar scent and sucking at your throat. Anything to combat the growing urge to flip you around and discard all sense of propriety.

Diluc couldn't hold back a satisfied moan upon feeling your tongue curiously lap at his collarbone. Each little lick paired with an attempt at raising your hips in search of friction.

It was impossible to focus with all your praise, every 'betrothed' that fell from your lips urging his fingers to dig further into your inviting skin. The sight floated tantalisingly at the border of his conscious mind, your chest pressed flush against the sheets, and your hips raised in invitation.

Diluc knew the arch of your back - had caught a glimpse once when you'd left a door cracked open. One hand to grasp the base of your ears and the other your cute little tail, perhaps even use it to lift your ass up further.

Would you enjoy that?

Pleasure and shame alike coursed through his body, having unconsciously begun grinding himself up into your wet heat. He was always careful, afraid that your small form would crumple beneath him. Diluc arched his back off the mattress, groaning when your fingers tangled in his hair.

He had to regain his composure and drag out your pleasure before considering his own. It was the proper thing to do, and you deserved far more pleasure than he could ever hope to give.

The tightness of your walls around his aching length knocked both breath and sense out of his body. Diluc was certain he felt his chest tighten just before the cry of a wounded beast joined your cacophony of moans.

How you always reduced him to a beast, he had no idea.

Genshin masterlist

[malicedragoness]

Nsft Havik Headcanons

Listen up y’all. This is by far, without a doubt, the weirdest thing I have written for this blog. Havik is not for everyone. So please read the warnings before you decide to read.

I don’t know why I’m attracted to this damn zombie man. But goddamnit!

Let me know if y’all want a part 2 or have questions.

WARNINGS: Havik is his own warning, body horror, limb detachment, lots of blood, manic behavior, Havik saying absurd shit.

-At first, he hates your guts when he meets you. He’s not supposed to want you. Owning things and keeping them in line aren’t his philosophy. A relationship feels like confinement and ownership. There shouldn’t be ownership. And yet he wants to keep you to himself.

He hates it. You represent everything he is against and he hates that he wants you. But if you returned his affections, he would keep you close to him and act like a violent guard dog to anyone that gets close to you.

-Havik is a chest guy. It’s not so much for nipples/boobs, but he has an obsession with your heart. He wants to be able to physically touch it and it tortures him that he can’t. So he settles for being as close to it as possible.

Havik favors positions where he can see and feel your chest and salivate over it. His favorite pastime is to lay his head on your chest and listen to your heartbeat like a thief trying to crack open a safe.

One thing about being with Havik, you need to get used to some of the absurd shit he says. During sex he’ll comment: “Just one chomp. One good chomp and I’ll be eating your heart out of your body, and sip your life’s blood.”

“I can hear your blood singing to me.”

“So sweet. So forbidden. Please, let me just lick it?”

Once Havik reaches a certain point in your relationship, he will let you physically touch his heart. He opens his chest to show you how fast it beats when you’re around. “Only you can make my heart dance like this.”

Even if you don’t want to touch it, he makes you. In his own delusional way, he’s showing you he trusts you.

-Masochist. It should go without saying that Havik enjoys pain, specifically if you’re the one to inflict it. From simple things like nipple clamps and tight cock rings, to drawing patterns in his skin with a knife. He gets off on you hurting him.

And while he loves pain, Havik would never turn away any tenderness you give him. If you stroke his hair, he’ll rub his head into your hand like a kitten. He will take any form of touch and affection you give. Gentle or cruel.

-Havik is proud of how absurdly flexible and detachable his body is. He can arch his body in different ways and put it in angles that aren’t humanly possible. Sometimes he detaches his head and will watch his body fuck you from across the room. There are times during sex where he has you hold his detached head to your chest while he fucks you, so he can listen to your heart beat.

-Licks your blood like it’s a delicacy. If you’re ever injured in a fight or if you have a cut on your finger, Havik is quick to come lick it. He’ll moan in ecstacy tasting your blood and his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Your blood is a shot of adrenaline to his system, and he gets more impatient than usual, and wants to drag you off to fuck you that instant.

-He is loud! There’s no restraint with him. He growls, he moans, he screams, he talks. He can never be quiet. So if you don’t want to be caught in the act, make sure you’re not anywhere public.

-Oral sex can be tricky for him. It’s not that he lacks enthusiasm. Far from it. But with no lips he’s relying heavily on his tongue and fingers to give you pleasure. For men, he circles his tongue around your cock and uses his hands to jerk you off.

-Love bites and nibbles replace all the kisses he could’ve left on your body. After his face got damaged, he realized he prefers it this way. Bite marks litter your skin and he’s all too happy to run his tongue over them.

-Havik experiences bouts of mania after fighting and being covered in blood. When he’s high in his mania, his masochistic tendencies get extreme. He wants you to slice him up, tie him down, pull his hair, torture him by making him cum multiple times so he gets overstimulated. He wants to feel pain.

Eventually, he will rip his arms off to get out of the restraints so he can take out his energy on you. And when he’s in it deep, he’s loud and sets a brutal pace.

“You feel so gooooood! I want to see your brains spill out of your head!”

(Keep in mind, he would never hurt you like that. But he says things in the throes of pleasure.)

When he goes through these episodes, it seems like it lasts for hours before he finally stops. Once he comes down from his high, he is exhausted from the emotional overload. He’ll cling onto you, shaking and crying. Desperate for an anchor as he rides the waves of his mental crash, loving the feel of you petting his hair.

-After being together for a while, he’ll break off one of his fingers and give it to you. Havik won’t grow it back. He puts it on a cord for you to wear around your neck. It’s his way of proposing to you. No matter where you go, you always have a piece of him.

[myetherealangel]

lovers in the dark ❦

#wlw nsft

To recite my poetry in a girl’s ear, vocalize my quickened pulse with a low voice brushing a caress across her jawline.

The world could be screaming, but I’m whispering love and devotion into the nonexistent space between us, as if my words could meld us together, two rapid heartbeats combining into a pounding crescendo.

Our private symphony, body and soul.

I'd pull my fingertips up her quivering legs and across her thighs, dipping my hand below to where she's wettest. She arches her back, pliant under me but defiant in her pleasure.

I love her like this. My most prized possession. Who really owns who?

I lick across her neck, flicks of my tongue move in tandem with each stroke of my fingers inside her.

I suck bruises across her collarbone. The marks I make on her skin appear on my flesh, invisible to anyone but us. They make me dizzy. With lust, with desire, with need.

I continue tracing constellations down her body. She moans, digging her nails into my back like that can ground her during my steady upheaval.

I moan at the pain. The lines between it and pleasure are greyed in her arms. I bite my devotion into the tops of her breasts, taking her nipple into my mouth and making her shake.

My fingers don't stop their dance, scissoring into her cunt with precision and worship.

I ache to taste her, but I can wait. I can wait until she can't.

Her begging is more enticing than any song I've ever heard.

[aladaylessecondblog]

The Whore AU Pt. 2 - Araynys

Araynys

Uthol

Vemyn

Tureynul

Odros

Endus

Gilvoth

Voryn

nsft below cut. Slapping, degradation, oral

------------------------------

Araynys circled her slowly, looking her up and down. "They say you volunteered for the job, and from the look of you I can understand why."

Sadara said nothing.

"You look far too soft to dance as you used to. Was the work too much? Or were you simply that eager to spread your legs like the common whore you are?"

"If I was to sweat I wanted to get something from it," Sadara replied evenly. "I had an audience...they were the eager ones. I've been doing well."

"And yet despite this success, here you are. You must have been told what this would entail. No one VOLUNTEERS for this, yet here you are. Why?"

Silence.

"Answer me."

Still, silence. And then a sudden blow as Araynys slapped her across the face - waited for a second - and yelled, "ANSWER ME!"

"I..." Sadara said, with a shaking voice, "...heard the term 'king's ransom' used to describe the pay, and couldn't help myself."

Araynys laughed harshly. "I should've expected. Money is all a whore ever cares for. And what would you do with such riches? No - don't tell me. Skooma and Cyrodiilic brandy?"

Sadara rubbed at the red spot on her cheek a bit before answering. "I don't take skooma...and I hate Cyrodiilic brandy."

"Enhancements of the bodily sort?"

"I don't need such things."

"I'd say that you do. Look at you...narrow hips, small ass..."

Araynys gave a slap at the latter. It wasn't much more than a sting, which was perhaps why he did it again. She gave a slight yelp at the second one, and a slightly louder one at the third.

Then he moved back in front of her.

"And the breasts..."

"I've gotten compliments on them," Sadara said, "But I'm guessing they displease you too?"

"Everything about you displeases me, and yet you are what I can get. I suppose you think yourself a prize...well...I am here to remind you that you are anything but, you arrogant--"

He stopped short. There was a slight nod.

"Kneel."

There was the slightest of breezes, which lead to Sadara giving a shiver as she obeyed. "As you command, my lord."

The stone beneath her knees wasn't comfortable in the slightest, but she was smart enough to know that was the point.

"I think you were looking forward to this," Araynys said, lifting her chin to force her to look up at him, and slipping his fingers through her hair when she kept her eyes on him, "Weren't you? Dreaming of the foul things that would be done to you when you came to us?"

"Something like--" Sadara's words were cut off, when his grip tightened and her face was mashed into his thigh. "Gods, you don't give a woman time to THINK about her answers, do you?"

Her hands shifted.

"Oh, you ARE an impudent thing...I suppose you're trying to goad me into fucking you early, hmm? Perhaps you WANT t--"

That was when he spotted it, Sadara, with one hand between her legs.

Araynys laughed.

"You DO. You little slut, you just couldn't help yourself, could you?"

Sadara didn't respond - with words, anyway. She gave a soft moan as she stroked herself, and shook her head when Araynys asked the same question again.

"I don't think it was the gold that brought you here," Araynys went on, smug amusement sneaking into his tone, "Did you WANT to be treated like this?"

No answer. She seemed too focused on pleasure.

He had to remind her, then.

A tug back at her hair, forcing her to look up. There was the blush, and then the shame soon to follow, all over her face. "Answer, slut."

"Y-yes," Sadara stumbled on the words, "I did. I want it, I--"

"That's all I needed to hear." Another laugh, and with the grip of her hair he mashed her face against the bulge in his loincloth. "Since you're so eager for cock...get to work."

There was silence as she stripped him of the loincloth, and as she stroked him to full hardness. There was the tiniest smirk on Sadara's face as she slightly ran her tongue over the underside of his cock - a smirk that vanished the moment he thrust forward, as deeply as he could go. There was the sound of one gag, but after a second Araynys pulled back.

"Whatever power you think you hold over me with that tongue, it is nothing to what I hold over YOU. I can replicate anything you can do, and better, too - you are a hole, nothing more. You need to remember that."

Sadara's retort never came since he thrust forward once again, running over her tongue and breaching her throat almost instantly. While he gave her room to breathe, at no point did he completely withdraw.

"An amusing hole, certainly...not worth what they're paying you. How does it feel, to be the sacrificial lamb, hmm? To be sent into the house of demons and blight, made to serve our pleasure? Do you like it? Or are you already regretting it?"

A gag. He pulled back and then pushed forward again, sneering.

"Why did I bother asking? Look at you...just LOOK at you. Limply letting yourself be used with not even a trace of resistance. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic."

Sadara earned herself a swat to the side of the head when Araynys saw her reaching back between her legs.

"No. No, you aren't going to get any pleasure of your own, not tonight. Perhaps if you'd behaved, I'd have allowed it, but as it is..."

A grunt.

"But it HAS been a while...perhaps once I've used you a few more times, once you've shown yourself capable of good behavior..."

Several minutes of relative silence elapsed, broken only by the lewd slurps and grunts and occasional gags. Finally, after what felt like far too long, Araynys felt a leap in his gut.

"You are going to swallow, since you're such an eager whore," he said, "You understand?"

Sadara nodded as best she could with his cock half-buried in her mouth.

"You should be capable of that, at least, as foolish as you've been so far. A--" There was a hitch in his voice as her tongue swept upwards, and brought him nearly to the edge. "--damned woman--!"

A final tug of her hair, and a jerk in Araynys's body. As bliss surged through his body he spilled himself empty in her mouth. Sadara swallowed his seed eagerly, spilling not a drop, even as he withdrew and stepped back from her.

She wiped a lingering bit of saliva from her lips and shuddered, not looking up until Araynys pulled her to her feet and lead her down a side hallway she hadn't seen at first. The moment the door was closed behind them she was immediately pulled into a tight hug.

Another shuddered, and a sob. For her the skin contact was wonderful, even if Araynys wasn't as warm as he might have been.

"You did very, very well," he said gently, "Yes. Very well, better than I've had in a long time. You were everything I needed you to be."

Sadara clung to him, listening quietly to the words of praise, glorying in the soft caresses that followed. She didn't do this sort of thing often, but to have someone do it so RIGHT...she thought she wouldn't mind if it could be like this every time.

"Thank you," she finally said.

"Do you need anything?"

"Water," Sadara replied, "You were salty, and swallowing always dries my mouth out."

"Whatever you need." He finally let go, and stepped back.

A half-hour elapsed. Sadara ate, drank, and redressed, finally coming back to herself.

When Araynys offered to let her sleep there, with him beside her, she took him up on the offer.

(One down, seven to go, she thought before she fell asleep. She hoped Uthol and his little master/slave request would be as good as this had been.)

[tumfullofblue]

AH THAT LAST GORDON ONE WAS SO GOOD ….. can I maybe request some more Gordon stuff? Preferably with a gender neutral or transmasc reader if u can? >.<

Aside from that go wild have fun !!! Sft or nsft just have fun it’ll be good either way we love Gordon

It took so long I'm so sorry, Anon! ʕ ´•̥̥̥ ᴥ•̥̥̥`ʔ It's really not because I don't love writing for Gordon (or any HL character tbh), but I got a bit disctracted with other stuff!

Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this sweet and spicy drabble with Gordon and GN!Reader... in Black Mesa ʕ≧ᴥ≦ʔ

«Fuck, straight to the stupid tie…”

The small storage room didn’t had enough air in it for one person, let alone two of them. Especially if they were kissing. And undressing. And touching each other, taking big greedy gulps of precious air when their lips would separate. “You don’t care, do you?” you chuckled, as Gordon started to undo the tie on your blue shirt, his fingers fumbling with silky material. You loved that tie. And you loved to having it on your hands above your head. But both you were too miserable, too touch-starved to do the usual stuff you do. The slow stuff. The sensual one. So, into the storage room you found yourself. Fifteen minutes before the lunch break ends.

“Give me that,” you purred and undid the tie, throwing it to the ground. Gordon was on you again, his lips moving against yours in a familiar, needy dance. You didn’t know what has come over him lately – the usual reserved and even cold sceintist couldn’t get his hands off you. Not that you didn’t like the extra attention. And to have the main heartthrob of your lab all to yourself… well, it did things to you. While you kissed, your hand found his cute little ponytail on the back of his hand – give it a small tug, resulting in a moan. You bit your lip.

“So fuckin’ needy, Gordon. Be queit, I don’t think this storage room has a lock on a door.” He nodded, whimpered much more softly when you tugged again, making his head go back, exposing his neck for you which you covered in soft kisses and playfull bites. Making sure to have at least one visible under the collar of the same blue shirt. His cock was straining in his pants for minutes now – you were sure he could come undone without you even touching him.

“You really do need me,” you breathed out, lowering yourself on your knees, ignoring the small pop in your back as you did so. “Are you gonna use me, doctor Freeman, mm? Gonna just stuff your beautiful cock into my mouth?” Gordon swallowed. Hard. You looked absoulutely perfect like this, on your knees in front of him. With your eyes wide and pretty, your lips swollen and a bit red from all the kissing and biting… and you were about to pleasure him. He was completely enarmoured with you – to the point of almost going insane.

That, and the fact that he tried to fight – that he cared for you. He shook his head, motioning you to stand up, he was the one who pushed you out of lunch room but you stopped him. “I want that, dear,” you whispered. “Honest. Relax, please. Lemme take care of you.”

You started to undo his belt, your eyes locked into his bright green ones, hidden behind the thick glasses. He breathed, hard, almost panting when you pushed his pants and briefs just down enough to set his straining cock free. Biting your lip again, before wetting it.

“Fuck, Gordon, so big…” you felt your mouth salivating, no matter how many times you already did that, you still struggled just a bit. You felt his thighs shivering from your praise alone. You got to work, dragging your tongue from reddish head down to a base, placing a small kiss there. Going back to wrap your lips over his shaft and getting that feeling of being full again, of serving him like he deserved it. With your eagerness to please him and his needines, it wasn't long before you heard his quick sighs and pants. His strong hand tangled in your hair, guiding your head up and down his cock, not caring that you were gagging on it a bit. Gordon couldn't hold out much longer, drawing out a long moan as he poured himself out into your hot accepting mouth. You popped his cock out with a satisfied little smile, licking your lip.

“Delicious,” you chuckled, nuzzling into his hand which got from the back of your head to your cheek. “Well worth wasting my lunch time on you, doctor Freeman.”

[impulsivemuses]

Lowkey would kill to have Mary wearing piercings around her body like a vaginal piercing, a belly piercing and a ear piercing over the years she's been alive~

[moonsglare]

sev do u have literally Any headcanons ab adela. nsfw or sfw. im begging. theres so little on this app and shes seriously the love of my life like im ceying i love her so bad

ADELAAAAAAAA i will confess i haven’t really Thought about her in a while because……. shalom……. BUT i do have SOME thoughts (shocking)

of all the sinners i feel like adela is the most inherently domestic, if that makes sense? she’s nurturing by nature (an absolutely AMAZING adela-coded song is two by sleeping at last) and if that comes at her own expense, so be it. it’s wonderfully, beautifully tragic, especially when contrasted with how chief/we feel about her. i worry because i love you vs. i don’t want you to worry because i love you dhshksskjd i’m scratching at the walls of my enclosure—

adela is so used to giving, giving, giving that when she recieves it throws her for a loop sometimes. there’s a supervision incident where we give her hand cream since her hands have started to crack due to shampoo overuse and she’s a little taken aback by it. she’ll take your hand in hers and whispers her gratitude so softly, only for you to hear. maybe you can even see the tips of her ears turning a light pink.

quality time, acts of services and physical touch are definitely adela’s top love languages. return any of these to her and she’ll feel her heart pitter-patter in her chest. maybe bring her a blend of tea she enjoys that she was running low on, or help her clean up her salon (cell?) as she closes up. if you’re feeling a little romantic, play some music on the record player and dance with her a little. she’s a little like raven in the sense she likes the idea of being romanced. she’ll rest her head on your chest and sway with you, hand in hand, and nothing else in the world will matter. in this place, in your arms, there are no worries. sometimes, it becomes difficult to leave.

but when you do leave, inevitably, to risk your life over and over again that tight knot in her chest worsens. she sees it, the strands of worry, all around her cell and her hands itch for her shears. she’ll be tense until the moment you return—and when you do, she won’t fling herself into your arms. but if you decide to pull her in anyway, hold her tightly against you, she won’t object. she’ll dig her fingers into the fabric of your coat and hold you tightly. run your fingers through her hair until she feels the tension bleed from her body. expect her to be a little more clingy after that, always wanting to ensure you’re in her vicinity, or if she can be selfish, in her arms.

adela’s kisses are gentle and tender. her lips are soft against your own, and she tastes like sweet tea and mint. she prefers to kiss you when she has you all to herself, in the privacy of her cell. she’ll loop her arms around your neck, or cup your face in her hands—she just wants to hold you close, always. she especially loves pressing butterfly kisses on your cheeks, adoring the way you flush under her touch. you mean so much to her, more than she can express in words, so she’ll be sure to show you.

[nsft utc]

adela is a huge switch to me. it’s part of her tendency to put others before herself; she’ll do pretty much anything that makes you happy. i don’t see her as a strap kinda gal, but if you want her to top you best be sure she’ll finger you until you see the gates of heaven. her fine motor skills are digustingly good and she will be sure to make full use of it. your whimpers and whines of pleasure are intoxicating to her, and sometimes she’ll become so obsessed with them she’ll have you crying tears of overstimulation as you cum on her fingers for the nth time.

but that being said, she doesn’t mind bottoming either—go down on her and she’ll give you the breathiest, sweetest moans you’ve ever heard. her hands will tangle in your hair, tugging and scratching at your scalp whenever you brush a particularly good spot. she’ll giggle a little when you come back up to kiss her and your hair’s a mess; she’ll do her best to fix it somewhat, but it’s an exercise in futility when you inevitably decide to go down and devour her again. i feel like she’s also a creamer rather than a squirter, but oh boy can she get you to squirt with those fucking fingers…

i think adela’s a little less into toys in general, preferring to go about it the more “traditional” way, if you will. but best believe she is very into lingerie. on you, on her, doesn’t matter—but she’ll definitely enjoy seeing it on you. wear something lacy and blue (her particular shade of blue) and she’ll turn the brightest shade of red before dragging you right to bed to unwrap you. if it’s a little too complex to take off she’d totally summon her shears and snip them right off—but she’ll promise to buy you a new set between sweet, breathless kisses.

adela loves, loves, loves aftercare too. she’ll spoil you rotten with it. and if she’s the one boneless on the sheets, then be sure to spoil her with aftercare. a long, warm bath after fucking each other silly is one of her favourite things in the world, and depending on how either of you are feeling, she’ll either be spooning you in the tub or be the one being spooned. in whichever case, the wind-down is always soothing and affectionate, a time just for you and her and nothing else. it’s in these quiet moments she’ll bury her face into your hair and whisper those fragile words, “i love you”.

(don’t you know? she loves you more than anything—even the fear of losing you.)

[blueskilled]

⥫ MUSE INFO ⥭

Name: Director Cyrano

Age: 67

Gender/Pronouns: M | He/him/his

Orientation: Homoromantic homosexual

Notable Physical Features: N/A

Trigger Warnings: Violent content, anxiety/depression, dark themes, nsfw/nsft

Likes: Flashy dress, luxurious amenities, battling, parties, festivals, and holidays, his academy and staff, new technology, having fun

Dislikes: Forgetting things, losing contact with friends, sore feelings that come from failed communication, isolation, when his students fall behind

Appearance:

TLDR: Cyrano is the Director of Blueberry Academy, a school he founded and built from the ground up after many years of study and research. He is a fun-loving individual who tries not to take anything too seriously except his work, even if he forgets half of what he’s trying to do. Until there is in-game evidence of his being married, this portrayal of Cyrano is single for the sake of shipping.

Background: Cyrano was born and raised in Unova, watching the city build up and grow around him as he got older. But he didn’t like staying in one place, and he found joy in meeting new people and exploring new mysteries, so for a time he traveled to do his schooling. It was during these travels that he met Clavell, and he grew mesmerized by the work Clavell and his associates were doing. He was amazed by the possibilities provided by the mysterious power of terastallization, and when their time together came to an end, he sought to explore the other many great mysteries left in the world. That didn’t mean he was slacking off when it came to slacking off, however, as on the outside he never quite seemed serious about anything. Until he was put in the field or the ring where he was to prove his metal in the sight of another, he usually spent his time engaging with the culture around him and having fun instead of working. It was a wonder he ever got anything done, but he worked tirelessly in the times he was alone to make up for all of his merrymaking. When he got older, Cryano set about laying the foundation for his own academy, determined not only to continue studying the world around him and the possibilities for the future, but to also grow the students under his care to make some of the strongest trainers Unova or even the world over had ever seen. He implemented double battling for more strategy, and he made several friends to keep his academy’s growth on track. Now he more or less just basks in the glory of his facilities, but he is still ever improving on his original design, and he hopes that he can make a great many more friends along the way.

Abilities: Cryano is a powerful trainer, but despite having raised an academy from the ground up, he isn’t actually very good at carrying out director duties. He’s grown forgetful in his years and so as a buffer has Briar and Lacey handle most of his executive work. He still makes big decisions, but most of his ability lies in his dancing and his battling.

Personality: Cyrano is a fun-loving, optimistic, heartthrob (especially in his own mind). He enjoys being the life of the party, and he finds no greater joy than pulling some unsuspecting victim into the folds of his social circles. And while he deeply loves creating a plethora of beloved memories, he unfortunately struggles to keep a single one of them. He tends not to let any of his internal struggles come out to the surface, however, choosing to tuck any worries away behind false forgetfulness (a trick he learned upon realizing just how bad his actual forgetfulness really was). He won’t hesitate to get close to others, however, and even his students feel like his own family. Though, he does occasionally worry that his popularity is getting too much. He even started wearing a wedding ring to “keep the fans at bay”. Truly, Cyrano has no bigger fan in anyone more than himself.

Relationships: Cyrano loves building relationships with anyone he has the pleasure of working closely with at all. And while he doesn’t make for a very good guardian, he is a wonderful, loyal friend. He might even make a very good partner, but he’s been so busy he’s hardly had the time. Not that he hasn’t tried, mind you, but when duty calls and he forgets he hasn’t texted back in the past three weeks, relationships can be a little difficult to maintain. He particularly struggles with this issue, and though he would very much like to be done with it, there’s little he can do about his mind or his work. So he makes do with what friends he can remember (and in turn remembers him). He does very well with people that will actively seek to engage him when he hasn’t done so himself for a while, as odds are he simply forgot to say anything.

Hobbies: Cyrano loves throwing cocktail parties in his spare time and going traveling to hear about the latest technology or scientific studies being made around the world. He also likes to participate in field research whenever the chance would see him free to. And while these things don’t come about often, he can still find plenty of fun in helping his students with their studies and occasionally challenging them to a battle. He likes to keep everyone on their toes, after all!

Team:

Zebrstrika

Mandibuzz

Gothitelle

Emboar

Samurott

Serperior

[flokali]

Uhm shinso can you write acolyte diluc eating the reader out on their throne....? (You don't have to write it ofc!)

Warnings: GN! reader, mentions of cum, religious connotations, slight-yandere themes, nsft, oral. ask to tag!

This ask consumed me for so long, like - It was on my brain for hours at a time, got me h-word too >:( I love you nonnie

It’s incredibly intimate to be in between someone’s thighs the way Diluc was between yours, the feeling was further amplified by the fact you were both in your throne room, alone, while he ravished you; it ended up flustering you beyond belief while also making you keenly aware as to how risky the situation truly was.

Your throne room was a spacious chamber, one filled with pillars of marble and stone, decorated with the finest luxuries from all corners of Teyvat - from the best silks in Liyue to the sturdiest maple wood in Inazuma -, not only was it elegant, incredibly expensive and expansive, it wasn’t restricted to any of your acolytes or followers. You had an open door policy, where anyone who wished to enter could so at any time - you knew no one would dare steal from you, not only due to your status as their idol, but because they’d face the wrath of some of Teyvat’s greatest Vision users, and that anyone who entered did so under the guise of adoration and idolization (not to mention the watchful gazes of many).

All this to say, that, if anyone so wished, they could enter and see the heir of the Raginvindr clan, Diluc, eating you out like a starved man.

His warm hands grip your thighs tightly, he held them in place near his ears, always making sure you never get the chance to so much as think about closing them - not while he was busy getting his fill. The young heir’s hair was let loose from the normal ponytail he’d wear, allowing you easy access for his locks whenever you felt like pulling at something - anything -, but he doesn’t let the stray strands get in the way as he kisses and licks your most sacred areas into numbing pleasure, his tongue ravished you and his fingers danced to further coax you to release. Somehow, you come to realize, albeit your slightly delirious state - mostly derived from the incredible amounts of pleasure coursing through your body -, he still managed to look handsome even when indulging in his carnal desires, drinking your cum and licking your sex, it was a thought that earned him an additional moan from you; that you were want he desired the most was a thought that made you want to spread your legs even further apart.

He hums into you, the low rumbles sending waves of pleasure through your body. Diluc unconsciously humps the air desperately, groaning and growing frustrated at the knowledge his cock wasn’t free from its confines and being used by you.

On the other hand, you could only lazily hump his face, letting his mouth suck, bite, and lick more and more until the little ball of pleasure that had been building up inside of you snaps and you’re leaking onto his face. He doesn’t stop, making sure to milk you until there is nothing left to be swallowed, until he’s reduced to kitten licks while he pulls away.

His normally composed facade is broken, his cheeks rival the red of his flames, he’s sweaty, and he has your juices all over him - coating his lips and cheeks -, he panted, catching himself before he said something he would regret, and you can’t help but let out light him, an attempt to lighten the mood from how heavy and lustful it had become; to think this handsome, shy man had you coming in minutes was insane as you looked at him desperately trying to engrave the feeling of your legs and sex pressed tightly against his face.

You’re about to call his name, offer him a reward for making you cum yourself dry, when you notice the wet patch in his crotch. He’d come untouched, just by eating you out; the stain wasn’t too noticeable but under the bright lights in the throne room, there was no doubt what it was.

“Thank you,” he heaves out, his voice is surprisingly delicate, as he massages his jaw, “… I hope my performance was, um… satisfactory.”

You too were attempting to properly catch your breath, but that didn’t stop the soft chuckle you let out; “I’m sure you can tell it was more than satisfactory, my dear,” you beckon him with your hand, slowly reopening yourself to give him access to your sex once more, “the question is,” you peak down once more and, this time, the man seems to realize the growing stain in his pants as well based on the widening of his eyes, “did you?”

[impulsivemuses]

🌶️ Safe bet, Mary's into BDSM. I can see her as a dom.

1 / 2 /3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

Call her a classic kinkster, but Mary LOVES BDSM. She can dish out punishment as much as she can take it too. Mary is actually your service top or bottom depending on what gender she's having fun with.

She usually tops women, but bottoms for men. It's a strange concept of hers. She absolutely loves whips and ball-gags a LOT. It's actually her most used fetish. Her moans are LOUD when she gets the whip, but she loves genital sexual torture too. (in the good way ofc lmao) overstimulating, edging, hoove play, marking, all the fun stuff when she's either in the ropes / cuffs / chains or when her partner is.

𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓼 — send 🌶️ and guess my muse's kinks.

[moonsglare]

having soft post-canon shalom thoughts someone sedate me………..

shalom who looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. to the sinners who’ve known her before everything, it’s frankly terrifying, because they know. they know the world-ending lengths shalom will go to keep you safe, alive. and that if anything were to happen to you, the seas would turn wine-red with the blood shalom will spill in your name.

on a lighter note, imagine slow dancing with shalom in your own home. she adores your touch, loves the feeling of your warm palms on her waist or on her back. she’ll loop her arms lazily around your neck as the both of you sway back and forth to the gentle music. eventually she’ll settle for resting her ear against your chest, listening to the steady beat of your heart as you hold her in your arms. kiss her forehead when she’s like this and she’ll practically purr in contentment.

shalom would definitely have her own flower garden. she may not tend to it herself, but she does spend a lot of time there crouched near the blooming lillies, a parasol resting lightly on her shoulder. when she comes back inside she’ll smell of earth and lillies, and she’ll laugh lightly as you nuzzle your nose against her neck, breathing in that floral scent of hers. there will always be a fresh bouquet in the dinner table vase, the white flowers as pure as the love she holds for you.

nsft utc—

while shalom loves indulging in more intense sessions which ends in one or either both of you crying tears of pleasure by the end of it, more often than not i think she likes to take things slow and in a more intimate way. like love-making instead of fucking.

if you’re thrusting into her she’ll have her legs wrapped around your hips, her fingers interlocked tightly with yours. the languid, slower pace lets both of you take it a little easier, and shalom uses this relaxed tempo as an oppurtunity to kiss you ceaselessly. she’ll let you pull back to pepper kisses along her neck and breasts for a while, but then she’s tugging you right back up to her lips again.

or maybe she’s sitting on your face, hands gripping the headboard as she shifts her hips back and forth while you devour her. one of her hands are intertwined with yours, while the other plays with her breasts, alternating between each one and pinching her stiff nipples. your other hand rests on her thigh, gently moving up to caress her hip and encourage her. she cums into your mouth quickly like this, hunching over with her eyes squeezed shut and lips parted, and fuck she’s so beautiful.

shalom doesn’t say i love you very often. she’s very particular about when she says it, because it means so much to her. she’ll show you in other ways of course, but actually saying it is something she saves for specific moments. like when she’s cuddled into your side post-coitus, her head tucked beneath your chin, your arm draped over her shoulders. she’ll breathe it out, a whisper of a kiss against your neck, her voice a little unsteady. her heart is full, so full of you, and it’s so foreign but she craves you, needs you. and when you whisper those words back to her, so soft and gentle and true it makes every horrible thing she ever went through completely and entirely worth it.

(don’t you know? you’re the most important person in her life.)

[vinciwolf]

Loyalty Pt 5 (1/2)

(Recom)Na’vi!Miles Quaritch x (fem)Na’vi!Reader

Warnings: SLOW BURN, THIS IS AN EVENTUAL NSFT SERIES, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, capture, romance, reader is female

Warnings for this chapter: LIGHT SMUT, alcohol, drunk reader/Prager, suggestive themes, tension, angst, some violence, fluff

Notes: Na’vi is spoken in italics, but inner thoughts are also in italics.

Tags: @deliwrites @ikranwings @lovekeeho​ @luciddasher @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @avatar-lover @justasimps-blog @mechformers @perseny @dakotali @ragingloser

 “These shot glasses are too fucking small!” Prager shouted over the obnoxious thumping of music filling the room where the Recoms celebrated getting their Banshees.

Lyle took up a whole table as he danced in hand with the biggest bottle of whiskey he could find as Z-dog and Walker arm wrestled, throwing back shots for each loss they got as the rest cheered and hollered around them. The only reason why the Colonel was present was to make sure nobody gave Spider alcohol, but something else weighed heavy on his mind.

Making tsaheylu with his Ikran had him feeling…differently…about the world around him. It was strange how none of the others seemed to be bothered. They took it in stride. Just another perk of being half Na’vi – able to control something like a Banshee. But Miles didn’t think of it as control. More like, how did you put it, a bond? Even though Cupcake resisted being forced to let the Colonel into her mind, like she could feel the evil within him, she only stopped when she felt something split. Miles was shifted by her. He felt a piece of himself, or his old self, chip off.

~

You were sheltered behind a dividing wall that jutted out in the corner, hiding away from the Colonel and the rest of the rowdiness, nursing a tiny cup of God knows what to get drunk. You needed this. At this point, your whole mood was sour from what happened to you in the cave with Miles. Those memories of his hand at your breast got you bursting with jitters, craving something to get your mind off of it – something to forget about the whole fucking thing. That was when you spotted a tipsy Prager laughing with Ja. Perhaps it was the liquid courage guiding your senses when you peeled yourself off the wall. He looked perfect in your haze, making you giddy as you finally found a reasonable distraction.

The hallway in the Recombinant barracks was graciously isolated as you were pushed into the frigid metal. Your breath got caught when the hot mouth at your neck drew a wet line down your jugular, causing you to rub a knee up the Marine’s side.

It was funny how you caught yourself up with the same guy you held at knife point months ago, allowing his tongue to poke and salivate into the cavern of your mouth, not with much of a rhythm, but at least it made your legs feel weak and head light. You were chasing the high of being fucked good, long, and hard, maybe even adorning some bruising in the process, but when flashes of Miles entering your vision wouldn’t leave you alone, everything about this moment crumbled. The heat, the sweat, the idea of sex with this Recom seemed so gross.

Prager's moist hand went up your shirt and squeezed your breast a little too roughly causing you to wince. After struggling to find a steady grip on your body, he rutted uneventfully at your hip trying to get his own traction. It was a slack and poor attempt at lovemaking, the poor fellow. Then the kisses stopped feeling good and soon had you bored and somewhat disappointed. You really wanted something to destress yourself and bide some pleasure in this hellscape, but of course, pushing off the breathy drunk, you left for your room crabby and unsatisfied.

When you got into your room, you fell down on top your bed with an unhappy groan, feeling a headache forming. With a deep sigh, you wrapped yourself up like a burrito and fell asleep.

~

Dreams were funny. They could be an escape. Or they could hold you hostage.

You were with Jake and Neytiri hunting a Hexapede. Prowling behind the trees, you carefully placed your feet as to not make a sound, until a wave a nausea hit you out of nowhere, causing you let out a plea for help. That had Jake running to your aid.

"Is it happening again?" his voice was etched with concern.

The soul transfer hadn’t happened yet. You knew your human body in the avatar link was suffering as you could feel the strain, the pull of your mind back to your other self. Your consciousness was getting weaker by the moment causing you to collapse into the mud, limbs bouncing from the force. It wasn't fair. It wasn't your fault that you had a shitty body that mutated its cells to kill you slowly.

"I don't wanna die!" you whimpered as tears blurring your vision.

Jake took your hand and squeezed it, comforting you that you'd be ok. But you knew he was lying. Everybody was lying. Mo'at, in this dream, told you she wouldn't do the soul transfer and that you'd be better off dying. Max and Norm didn't seem to care. Neytiri was gone. Jake disappeared. Now you were on the forest floor with the collar on your neck, but something was different. You examined your limbs and noticed you were attached to the ground with orange cuffs, the same ones used by the Recoms to hold you hostage. Hands shook violently in the moment you started yelling for help to find that nobody was coming.

Spider wouldn’t survive without you! He was just a baby!

Help! PLEASE HELP!

The moss and dirt crawled over your limbs as you were forcefully sucked under the mud before your eyes finally opened, body flailing hard when you fell out of bed and crashed loudly onto the floor, eyes streaming with a flood of tears. Your blankets wrapped around your bottom half uncomfortably causing a swell of anger to piss you off. Taking your rage out on the inanimate object, you yanked the material off your limbs, tail swatting while you stood up and chunked your sheets onto your bed.

~

The fluorescent lights winked above Miles as he walked the long halls to his lodging. He abandoned the party long ago, not seeing you anywhere and feeling a tinge of regret run through him. Maybe he went too far in the cave simply for his own enjoyment and curiosity. Coming upon your room, he paused his stride. His knuckles fell from where they would’ve rapped on the door before he raised them again, mouth agape, then relaxing both when he decided it was best to just head to bed.

As he was about to turn and walk off, he heard a muffled thump, making his hand quickly click the switch to your door to find you seething with your tail pointed straight up at the mangled pile of blankets atop your bed.

Your head immediately spun, ears tipped back annoyed, to where he stood. He was scanned by your burning stare making him face his palms toward you. That seemed to calm the tension in your body, then you were plopping yourself down on the floor, leaning against your bed.

“Rough night?” he put forward while taking a step into your room.

Well, it wasn’t really a room, but a small space with the basics: a bed. Ardmore eventually gifted you this privacy after the none-stop ear-full from the Colonel on how giving you a space would make you more compliant. It wasn’t a total lie, but enough to get her to budge and allow you a space for yourself instead of that dingy cell.

“Nightmare,” you stated indifferent.

Shit.

Then you followed up simply with, “I’m ok now. You can go.”

But he knew that you understood he wasn’t going anywhere when he bridged the distance and found a spot on the floor near you.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Miles could tell that you were giving it some thought right before you sighed and crumbled.

"I... don't know if the human Miles knew this, but I was sick. I had cancer all over my body. Fucking figures—" you huffed at the irony "—a bright scientist given a choice: stay on Earth to get surgery to fix my ass AFTER the day Grace would leave, or go to Pandora knowing full well that my ticket was a one way. I'd die in cryo on my way home....”

“…when Grace was shot on our way out of Hell's Gate, the Omaticaya tried to help her. They were trying to transfer her soul to her avatar—" tears dotted themselves along the rim of your eyes as your voice cracked "—she didn't make it of course."

Miles listened intently, remembering how human Quaritch shot at Trudy’s gunship, apparently hitting Grace.

"When I saw her death, I saw mine. I was afraid. I hid my sickness for as long as I could before... before Jake found out that I was getting worse, so now... my body is rotting in the ground while I'm in here—" your finger curled in and pointed at your chest "—I couldn't sleep after that, knowing that my own self was dead and it made me unable to breath."

Miles was silent for a while as he gathered his thoughts. The memories of the cave played in his mind. Now he understood your hesitation to confess despite his vulgar interrogation tactics. This was a burden that haunted you, much like how his predecessor’s memories haunted him.

"You don't have to say anything," you murmured.

His heart fell. Verbally he was stunted, but physically…physically he could do something.

Finding your hand, he swept a thumb over your fingers causing you to flinch from the sudden touch in a second of distress, blinking slowly until the onslaught of relief wiggled into your bottom lip, a few of those dotted tears running down your cheeks.

"Could you… stay with me?"

Fixing your bed, Miles slid himself behind you under your blankets with an arm coming to drape over the bend of your waist. Seeing his hand so close to yours, breath at your neck, a content blush crawled over your cheeks. That night, after years of sleeplessness, you finally fell into a slumber that didn’t hurt you.

~

After that night, communication got easier. Even being around the Colonel felt more natural.

Your eyes even caught glimpses of him studying your form or glancing at your features whenever he thought you didn’t notice. Deep inside, he admitted to himself that he grew attached to you and the kid, just as much as you towards him. Your company was different and he thought it cute the way your tail would betray your outward attitude by swatting contently whenever he entered the room.

You also had noticed your collar irked the Recom to a small degree. His eyes would dart away from it if they travelled to it during conversation. Or he would stare at it intensely from across the briefing room.

Being closer to Miles wasn’t all too bad either because it allowed your fondness to reach forth at him like a clutch of tendrils trying to cling to him before they withered when he departed for other tasks, leaving your chest to bloom forth with distress as you yearned for the space beside you to be filled.

Studying Na’vi during downtime was also another way your heart was sated. After a while however, one by one the Recoms stopped showing up, taking little interest in the difficult language, settling for the basics or words for commands, but Miles was the only consistent one to show up. Soon, it was just him, disciplined and a good student. He wasn’t entirely fluent yet, but he was able to put together broken sentences faster than you had predicted.

“*Menari,” he said rigidly. (Na’vi for eyes)

“Me-na-rrri,” you rolled your tongue.

“That’s what I just said, ain’t it?”

Holding back a giggle, you corrected, “You’re saying menali instead of menari.”

“Nah-nah-ri—like comin’ out your nose or somethin’,” he joked.

You tipped your chin and smiled, a modest laugh erupting from your chest. After a while and like a toddler, Miles got bored and distracted easily, reminding you that this was the time to end the session for the day, but then he did something that had your eyes rounding. He pulled forward his braid and allowed for the pink tendrils to wiggle freely. Then a silly grin stretched across his face.

“Soooo…what would happen if we?”

“NOPE!” you yelled, standing up and leaving, a giant blush covering your nose and cheeks.

 ~a few days later~

 Ardmore and the Colonel were discussing the next steps in their plan to find Jake as you held a firm stance in the shadows of the background. This made your blood flutter, arms crossed, behind the glowing map sprawled across the room. You knew things would eventually come to a head, but your mind always pushed away those bad thoughts.

All you wanted the most…was more time.

“There was a rogue ship that flew over the ocean—” Miles strut through the hologram of Pandora’s landscape “—we pinged its location until we lost it here, but given its direction—” his hand waved across the map “—this group of islands is where we think he’s hiding.”

“You think that a hunch is enough to convince me to send you to a group of islands where Sully could be anywhere, Colonel?” Ardmore beckoned at the countless islands spanning the oceanic map.

“If you give me ships and aircraft, I’ll bring you back his scalp.”

Your head perked up, ears curving forward attentively when you heard Miles’ choice of words. It had been a while since you saw that side of him, making it hard to not be nauseated when it was decided to go ahead with his plan to find your friend.

That was the day you left Bridgehead. The day you left home.

The rush of air vibrated over your ears as land merged into a vast oceanscape, a horizon endless and blue. You turned and beheld the forest one last time, its white cliffs falling off to the rocky waves below, dwindling slowly. The mountainous greenery screamed at you to turn back and stay.

Miles from afar caught your dejected state. This move was necessary for him to find his target, but when he saw the rise and fall of your chest, it made him feel a way that had him sink low. Then he glanced down to see Spider watching you too, sharing the same grief, eyes welling up, only for him to blink fast to stay focused.

Teeth locking firm, the Colonel’s eyes searched the pale distance for something to distract himself.

~

The thunderous crashing of waves filled your senses when your feet landed on the soft sand of the beachside, everyone hopping off their Ikrans to make a base while waiting for the arrival of Captain Scoresby and his ship. You stayed behind and away from the group, shielding yourself with Sylway while you tried to fill your nose with the calming sent of the salted breezed.

A moment later, while you weren’t looking, a few droplets of something wet sprinkled your face, making you flinch and close an eye from the sudden assault of seawater. Locating the source of this attack, you find Spider dashing away with a light giggle.

He got you, now you had to have revenge.

As the Recoms were focused on making camp, you and Spider treaded fast through the moist, thick sand – kicking up some particle behind you while dodging each other’s whips of water as you played in the waves.

Lyle caught your bodies running around and got annoyed. Eyebrows furrowed, some of the others took note of the chaos on the beach and stilled their movements.

“Hey! This isn’t a vacation!’

The Corporal approached fast with heavy steps through the deep sand.

“Sorry we—” you tried to apologize.

“Help us with the camp, dog, or you’re sleeping without a blanket tonight,” he announced.

You weren’t going to protest as you watched the backside of the Recom walking off, only for your eyes to round big when a wet slosh of damp sand was sent flying and hit his neck. He turned around slowly, rage filling his face as he glared at you.

In your defense, you weren’t lying when you pointed a finger at the kid and said, “He did it!”

Having enough, Lyles stormed forward, making you hop into a run as Spider took off beside you.

Miles pinched the bridge of his nose as the rest of his squad abandoned their tasks to follow quickly the screaming prisoner and the kid, while their friend cussed them out from behind. Not wanting Spider to get too seriously hurt by the nine-foot Marine of fury, he trailed with the group, noting how your figure dodged into the woods to safety.

The kid ducked when Lyle reached out, causing him to trip and slide into the wet sand as a wave crashed into his body. The squad burst with roars cheering on the wild child returning to the group triumphantly.

The Colonel’s mouth tugged up, feeling a swell of pride unfold inside his chest while witnessing the giant smile spread across the boy’s face, the Recoms patting him and giving their praises like he was one of their own. Then he turned his attention to the woods. Thinking about finding you through hunting your scent and tracks made his cock twitch.

Leaves and sand crunched under the weight of Miles’ careful footsteps. He observed the world around him and kept track of your prints left behind in a hurry. Then he stopped when the evidence of your run abruptly vanished. All traces of you were gone except for the lingering smell of the sweet soap you used on yourself this morning. Suddenly, a palm cupped his mouth, causing the Marine to go feral. He grabbed the hand’s wrist and twisted the owner in front of him, slamming them against the trunk of a large tree in a fearsome hold.

“If I had my stuff, you’d be beneath a blade,” you said coyishly, a hint of your fangs peeking through your shallow grin.

Tail upright and lashing about, Miles breathed hard, carved pecs rising and falling heavily below his tactical vest, but once he realized he held you of all people, he relaxed and allowed your hands to fall to your side. You propped yourself against the tree he pushed you into, grunting at the rise of sudden pain from the harsh blow, mumbling how you ‘deserved that’ while in your state of brief distress. Then you saw how Miles took you in.

It was hard for him to tear his eyes away as he observed your current state, especially being that he was already hard. Your shoulders, chest, and neck were moist and glistening under the light, leaving a soaked trail of dampness to line the middle of your t-shirt between the two pebbles that marked your breasts under the fabric.

Not much was said verbally but body language was enough. You saw the tent below his beltline and you knew he could see your tits poking through the thin veil of your shirt. Leaning your head back onto the tall bark, the lines of your neck exposed themselves just begging to be covered with the Marine’s hot tongue despite the collar ever present. But to your surprise, he didn’t lunge, he didn’t bite your neck, he simply lifted an arm and held your chin with the knuckle of his index finger, the bed of his thumb brushing the roundness of your chin gently. His eyes were deliberate and studied your face. It was like you two were transported back to that first meeting in the forest clearing near the Old Shack.

Your eyelids shut as you absorbed the Colonel’s touch. In some way, you were thankful he didn’t lunge. This was kinder.

Miles shifted his focus from your eye, to your nose, to your plush lips, the line of your mouth separated only by a hair’s width. They looked soft and tempting. He wanted to taste you.

Oh, he wanted to taste you everywhere.

But this was dangerous territory. He knew better.

The heartbeat in your chest picked up when you felt his large hands cup your face and heard the shift in bodyweight on the leaves below. He was closer. The breath that blew into your face had your cheeks feeling hot. But nothing would come. Nothing would sate the desire that hung between these two bodies in the quiet forest as the hands on your face promptly pulled away with footsteps shuffling quickly.

Heart twisting, you opened your eyes to an empty space.

~

The midnight sky was speckled with white dots of light, like someone had poked holes through the floor of heaven. Relaxed in his cot by the crackling fire encircled by his squad who slept nearby, Miles eyes wandered the constellations. There was a strange calm that settled inside him. He for once didn’t feel like the mighty Colonel Miles Quaritch he had met in the recording what felt like forever ago.

Detaching his eyes from the darkness, he peered over to stare at Spider. He would like to say ‘son,’ but that… wouldn’t sound right. Was he his son? They weren’t even the same, but he couldn’t admit to himself fully yet that he wanted to be someone more to the kid.

How the boy slept comfortably with the exomask boggled the Colonel, but through the clear screen reflecting the dancing flames, he saw a child - still innocent but sad. A responsibility that the human Quaritch abandoned, not even thinking about how if he lost the war on the Tree of Souls, the infants born at Hell's Gate couldn't be sent back to Earth.

Then his gaze landed on your empty bedroll. You were always sneaking off. Perhaps it allowed you a breather. Thinking it best to find you, he got up. Soon enough, as the campfire became a miniscule speck in the darkness on the beach, waves crashing softly at his side, his feet treading in the sand brought him to where you extended your arms with a pair of binoculars at your sights.

You understood the footsteps approaching belonged to Miles. The time spent together had you memorize the pattern he made, same with the rest of the squad, Z-dog being the easiest to pick out. That woman walked like a model, holy shit.

Fangs poking out as you smiled, you addressed the Recom, "It's a little blurry with these, but you can see Earth. So tiny and insignificant. Just a blue shimmer."

Miles never paid much attention to the sky, but somehow, every day he spent looking down at the human's giving him orders, and even when talking with his own, made him wonder how much people cared to look up.

"Why're you out here?"

Putting down the binoculars, your face held a passive grin. He noticed that you weren't distant, simply content, before that fell away.

"I... couldn't sleep," you muttered. "I think the only time I slept through the night was when—" you held your words, a part of you wanting to glance at him, but instead kept your eyes on the waves, Miles barely peeking into the corner of your vision "—you stayed."

The Marine ducked his chin away, adjusting his stance to align with the ocean, trying to come up with something snarky like he could with people who got on his nerves. But these nerves weren't the pissed off kind, no, they grabbed him quietly under his skin as his digits fingered the butt of his pistol. He hadn’t realized he was keeping his breath down before he slowly emptied himself, taking new air into his mouth.

"Thank you for that."

His ears straightened.

There it was.

There was the you he hated.

Giving a thank you when you should be lashing out, biting, ripping at anything thrown to you with fangs snapping at his hand.

But you never did.

You felt gratitude instead, and with that, caused his heart to ache.

He wanted you to hate him. He wanted so badly for you to shout at him that he was a monster. How could you treat him like this? With dignity... with kindness... after humiliating you.

It was difficult for him not to respect that about you. It also made it impossible for him to get you out of his head. But he already had his squad, a second chance at life, and the RDA. He was a Marine. He had everything, didn’t he? But why whenever you or Spider would slip away, he'd feel alone.

With eyes looking to the tiny light that gave his squad warmth in the distance, he wondered what he really had. Then he found himself observing your form again and the way your hair poured freely over your shoulders. Not wanting to be a coward any longer, he stepped closer to you.

Miles took note how your face lined with confusion as your body pivoted slightly at the shrinking proximity he created, to then fade away when you watched his eyes and saw that he was seeing you for the first time. The moonlight gave off a soft illumination to your face that had him wondering if the glowing freckles that patterned your face had always been this unique. Then his hand reached up with measured caution, almost asking you if this was ok.

Your lashes fluttered a tad, breath loose over your lips, as you refused to break the connection held with your gaze, a little frightened, but ready. Knuckles brushed the roundness of your features, cupping your cheek and caressing a thumb over your soft skin. Slowly, the Recom closed the gap and pressed his lips against your hairline for a moment, taking in your smell and the way you paused under him.

This gracious moment the Great Mother spared captured your soul and had your entire body set ablaze. Your mouth couldn’t form the words or thoughts of what to say, only realizing that you were at peace and wanted to remain right here for an eternity. Before long, Miles separated himself from your temple, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he rested the bridge of his nose along yours, eyes closed as he held you, not with hands, but with a wordless love that connected your brows.

With a soft smile pulling at your lips, you were finally at ease…

You were happy.

[itsohh]

A Throat Full

A/N: G/N reader, this was supposed to be like 400 words but I got a little carried away lmao.

Day 9: Praise

Word count:  917 

Warnings: NSFT, Smut

AO3 Kinktober Masterlist

A loud groan left his lips, his head against the wall, hand shaking slightly. His deep pants could be heard above you and he ran his tattooed hand through his messy hair. Maxim’s desk chair had been pulled out in front of the door where he rest in front of you. A pillow beneath your knees as you worked. His cock was almost painfully hard, heavy in your hand as you stroked the man.

Maxim’s hoodie was undone and his singlet exposed the top of his chest, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed. Your eyes flashed up to his messy state, amused by his lack of control. Someone so normally collected and calm, it was a treat to see him succumb to his more basic of desires. After what seemed like an eternity of your lazy strokes you pressed your lips against the tip of his head, a small kiss on the top. Slowly, your lips parted further and slipped them around his head. About a quarter way in he filled your mouth and he looked down at you.

“Deeper.” His thumb ran across your cheek and his eyes met yours once again. Maxim’s pants pooled around his ankles, giving you easy access to him. With one hand wrapped around the base of his dick, you pulled him out of your mouth and re-adjusted your kneeling position so you were a little bit closer and more comfortable. He watched you give him a little wink before you placed him into your open mouth. Your lips wrapped around him once again and he let out a sigh of pleasure. Yet, your actions didn’t stop there and you pushed your head further, relaxing your throat as his cock went down it. “That's it.” His hand gript onto the back of your head, finding purchase in your hair. Maxim made sure not to push on your head, instead allowing you to set the pace. You swallowed around his cock and your nose met the hair at the base of his cock. “Shit, that's it, you're doing so well. Fuck, you don’t know how good that feels.” He groaned as you paused, giving yourself time to adjust and breathe through your nose.

“You’re so fucking perfect sucking me off like this.” Your hand that had been on the base of his cock steaded yourself on his thigh and your nails scrapped into his leg. The hand in your hair moved with you as you retreated off his cock, a line of saliva connecting you to him when your lips popped off. You were quick to grab it and place a few licks on the underside, feeling the rather predominant vein that ran along it. A few deep breaths left your lips and his eyes bore into yours. “I’m going to fuck that beautiful throat of yours.” He stood up from the chair and leaned on the desk next to him, you shuffled a little back and when you turned to face him his thumb hooked inside your mouth.

Immediately your tongue danced over his thumb and he smiled in response. “Open wide. You remember what to do if it gets too much?” You nodded twice and slowly opened your mouth, your tongue poking out of your lips. His scene consumed your scenes once again and he pushed his cock inside your mouth. “Yes, perfect.” He breathed out before his hand tightened the grip on your hair and started to thrust into your mouth.

With one hand on his hips, you allowed him to fuck deep into your throat, saliva lubricating the action and drooling down the corner of your mouth. Maxim's eyes stayed on yours as his balls slapped against your chin, and his teeth bared as he chased his high. “So good for me, yes your mouth was made for me. Throat feels so fucking good.” Your nails dug into this thigh but he didn’t stop, abusing your throat as his cock throbbed inside you. “Just a little bit more, can you do that for me?” He grunt above you and your nails weakened on his thigh giving him his answer. “Oh, you're so well for me. Doing so well, just. A. Little. More.” He ripped his cock from your mouth and his seed came flying out of him, his hand holding his dick while it pumped out his cum.

It coated your mouth and chin, some landing inside your mouth which you promptly swallowed. “Fuck.” He fell back into the chair with deep pants, his finger scooping up some of the cum on your chin before sticking it into your mouth. A smile curved up on your face before you hallowed your cheeks and sucked the salty liquid off him. As he recovered he leaned forward down to your level and grabbed your chin. Maxim held you steady as his lips connected with yours, tasting himself on your tongue. He let go of your chin and you moved forward with him as he parted his lips from yours, a chuckle left his lips and he sat back into the chair and lazily pet the side of your hair. “Fuck, you're unbelievable. No one else takes my cock as well as you do.”

“I suppose statistically someone has to be the best at sucking you off.” You hummed as you moved from your kneeling position to a side sit. Maxim smiled at the comment as the pair of you caught your breath, content to just enjoy the afterglow.