#is spear too boring?

[omo321]

[zkretchy]

anyhow if any of you wanted to know how my ER went/is going....trust me I tried to just do something simple for the start but quickly found Dragon Powers and burnt and rotted everything between me and more stuff I can use to make things dead faster

bonus sketch i did when i still only used the basic twinblade to twirl shit to death(+basic rot breath only BUT post Radahn so...mid game i guess)

[chqnified]

The feeling of: yeah! I might be getting a proper job, one of those fancy 'life long' careers people talk about!!!

And also the feeling of: but. What do you mean.

[gofishygo]

to me tf141 x 141! reader is always going to have some sort of place in my heart .

john price who knows he's breaking the rules, getting ever too close to his sweet subordinate, knowing that his grip on their hand during missions drags for moments too long . but he knows, he's okay with the risks , because it's you . even if it compromises the both of you in ways that would never happen if you'd just stayed apart , raises the price on both of your heads by a tenfold , you've wormed your way into his heart, and know he would make sure you lived there forever .

kyle 'gaz' garrick who'd sworn he'd always stick it to the civvies . less complicated that way, he initially thought , not having to deal with any more danger and conspiracy and the headstrong rivalries he kept to his taskforce , only another pretty face . but you come along , with your tac vest and chipper smile and bright eyes , and you let him breathe . a person who acted far more 'humany' than the rest of the team, but had the agility and strength the spear a gun like a battering bull into an enemy and still make it look incredibly beautiful . and then he forgets how to breathe at the sight of you , all over again .

simon 'ghost' riley who puts his heart out on line and hook for his new teammate . he'd never imagined finding gentleness under such military circumstances, never felt the warmth of his weary and broken heart in living hands ever since his family . but you patch him up and piece him up in and in between long deployments, and he cant help but cherish the fingerprints you leave on him .

john 'soap' mactavish who bores at the idea of a slow and civilian life, with his 'best friend' in the taskforce feeding right into it . testing bombs together, challenging each other to clear courses the fastest . wiping the dirt and blood off of each others faces after the roughest missions , excusing his rising heartbeat by the adrenaline when you fall asleep on his shoulder in the chopper . and when you laugh , it's sharp and loud and the exact hum he wants to drown himself in for the rest of his life .

[lanabuckybarnes]

Winter’s Girl

18+ Minors DNI

(I do not own any photos, credits to original owners)

Could you imagine being a scientist on the winter soldier program, your task is to make sure he’s at 100% before every mission. This time though, when you enter his holding cell he’s nowhere to be found.

Note: I HIT 300 FOLLOWERS; thank you guys so much I love you all xxxx

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Warnings: Translated Russian because I’m stupid and know one language, Jealous Soldat, use of the word Puppy/Pup as a petname, a lil Biting, Hair pulling, Spanking, Spitting, The Winter Soldier (he’s a warning), Creampie, He’s a little sweet at the end but there isn’t much aftercare— as always if I’ve missed anymore let me know!

Word Count: 1.2k (of porn with no plot)

You gaze flicks around the room, a little panic stricken but who wouldn’t be when a 6ft something assassin had seemingly disappeared from his cell.

The fear bubbling in your belly only triples when you face the long broken mirror that sat just above the sink, behind you his cerulean gaze was undeniable. His hands reach out, the cool metal one wrapping itself around the bottom of your face, muffling any protests, while the other gripped your hip with bruising fingers and pushed you forward till your pubis and upper thighs knocked against the sink.

Your hands fall on instinct to the cold metal as your fingers grip at the surface, when you flick your gaze up to the mirror you can see that what swims in his own orbs isn’t anger or the usual killer instinct, no— the Winter soldier looks at you with lust.

“красотка” (pretty) He whispers hoarsely against your neck, hot pants of air from his mouth coating your throat like paint. His teeth nip right at your pulse point before his warm tongue smooths over the mark.

When you jerk, his grip tightens, “don’t move” He stares at you pointedly through the mirror before both his hands retreat from your frame.

You vaguely register the soft sound of fabric hitting the cold floor before he swipes your own clothes from your body, the harsh air was harsh; it almost felt like dipping your body into a bath filled with ice.

He groans, loud and throaty as his eyes bore into your ass and panties. Despite the cool atmosphere of the cell you feel everywhere burning with a primal want. You wanted this, you had since the first time you worked with the Soldier. He smelled the way you slicked up at the sight of him in nothing but his briefs, blood dripping from his nose, a musky scent radiating from him that had you desperately soaked. He wanted this too, he needed the release and the best kind of toy was one that was willing.

You felt his fat tip press against your hole, pushing in and out softly over the thin lace before it slipped to stimulate your hard little nub. The strong grip on your hip was back, anchoring your feet in their exact spot.

“You need this?” He kissed sloppily up your spine, It sounded more like a statement than a question but you nodded all the same.

He worked quick after your confirmation. Your panties were pulled to the floor by their soaked gusset and two of his chubby metal fingers speared you, pulling a delightful sounded moan that the Soldier was desperate to hear more of.

They worked methodically, pushing in and curling out, your legs shook at every time the cool pads bumped over each pleasure filled rib.

Once he deemed you ready enough, his fingers slipped from your tight hole to jerk at his thick length, coating himself in your essence. He so desperately wanted to taste you but his cock was crying out for attention, he’d get his fill next time.

“F-fuck” you moaned loudly as he pushed in, all semblance of decency thrown out the window at the feeling of his fat cock stretching you, there was a burn from ill prep but with the size of him you weren’t sure there would be a way to prep. You were thankful that he let up for just a bit so your insides could mould to accommodate him.

When he started thrusting his pace was brutal, his meaty thighs slapping against your own, the sound mixing with the squelching push and pull of his cock along your fluttering folds. You’d thank his super soldier serum later for his constant pounding pace but right now you could think of nothing but him.

“Bucky!” you squealed as his cool digits flicked meticulously across your sensitive clit, your fingernails scraped mindlessly at the shiny plates of his forearm. He growled possessively at the slip of the name, his right hand fisting clumps of your hair to angle your head up to watch you both in the mirror.

“Does Bucky fuck you like this? Mm?” Jealousy dripped from his words as his metal hand smacked your rear hard before gripping the reddened flesh to cool the area.

You couldn’t think, you watched as your thighs jumped at each pound of his hips, the way your mouth had sat slack ever since he shoved his length into you, drool poured from your lips but you didn’t care— you couldn’t care— not with how cock drunk you were.

He smacked your ass again, this time when he gripped the flesh he pulled your cheek to the side, parting your ass before launching a fat glob of spit that ran from your tight little asshole to the spot where you two joined.

“I asked you a fucking question!” He pushed forward, teeth finding the lobe of your ear and biting down, the action pulling a squeaked moan from your swollen mouth.

“No-no he can’t, he can’t… please Soldier I’m so close” You wailed, one of your own hands travelling down to play with your neglected clit. The soft touch of your fingers had you jerking back to meet him.

“Mmm, Отчаянный щенок (desperate puppy)… you cum when I say you can” he was panting now, hips hammering into you at a slightly sloppier pace; It wouldn’t be long until he found his own release as well.

He moaned loudly, he had no control over his own body now, driven only by decades of primal unsatisfied lust. He thrust harder if it were possible, his wild blue eyes glaring at your fucked out face through the cracks in the mirror.

“You ready pup?” he asked between loud groans.

“Mmm, so ready солдат (soldier)” you slurred, your head hung loosely between your shoulders when his hand slipped down your spine, you’d lost all energy to hold it up ages ago— you’d been relying solely on the tight grip he had on your hair.

“Augh, shit” he growled almost animalistic through clenched teeth, his damp forehead settling on the silky skin stretched over your shoulder blades. He thrust deeply one last time.

“Cum angel…cum…cum on me” the words fell from his mouth along with slurs of broken Russian as he painted your walls white, his cock twitched against your vice grip as you silently screamed at your own release.

You hadn’t the faintest clue how long you two basked in the after glow of whatever you had just done, your mind only coming back to you when you felt his softening length pull from your aching heat. The feeling of your mixed juices slipping from your hole had you almost coming for a second time, especially when you felt his cold fingers drag up the mess it made in your thigh before he pushed it back into your core.

His arms lifted you up with him as he backed up until he sat on a rickety cot in the corner of the room. You had no idea if it would hold both your weights but it was the last thought to cross your mind when his thick arms wrapped around your waist, his flesh fingers rubbing soothing circles over your hip bone. He kissed you, tenderly, before flopping his head onto the almost flat pillow.

You were almost asleep when you heard the deep rumble of his voice behind you. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

-

I have an insatiable appetite for jealous Bucky.

I also desperately needed to write something for the world’s favourite Soldat because I would not sleep peacefully tonight thinking of this and not sharing.

Hope you enjoyed x

[noctswife]

Granblue story event/side story tier list

[woso-dreamzzz]

Allergies III

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Lena Oberdorf x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Obi chooses your food

The first round of preseason right before a round of Euros qualifiers is a little bit annoying for your parents but to you, it doesn't matter much.

You're happy to just be around the team after the short break with your family.

It's not that you don't get along with your cousins but you've always felt a little anxious around kids your age, no matter if you're actually related to them or not.

You feel much more settled at training with a bunch of footballs to keep you occupied.

The girls are nice too.

Obi has joined from Wolfsburg and you really like Obi because she does fun things like swing you around and run around with you on her shoulders.

Momma says that's dangerous.

You think she's silly but Momma's in charge of you so you make Obi stop doing it where Momma can see.

"Princesse!" Magda calls over from her lunch table," Have you got what you wanted?"

"In a minute!" You yell back as Obi makes your plate for you.

You're letting Obi choose your meal today like she did a few time when you were at Wolfsburg together. Obi always chooses really good food like the mac and cheese a few days ago and the creamy chicken you liked so much that Magda had to go and get the recipe off the chefs because it was all you wanted to eat when you got home.

So, all in all, you trust Obi's choices even when she puts yucky salad on your plate because Momma and Morsa say you have to have something healthy.

Obi gets to the end of the line and hands you your plate before looping back around to grab her own food.

You walk carefully to the table Momma, Morsa and Georgia are already sitting at.

Georgia takes your plate as Magda lifts you up into your seat, tucking you in before you're allowed to start gobbling up your lunch.

Obi's chosen very well again as you eat your pasta and pancetta. You really like pasta. You think it's your favourite food even though Momma and Morsa have made sure that you like lots of other food too.

Pernille taps your plate. "Eat some salad too."

You huff.

A love of salad is not something that they've managed to instil in you. You're not a big fruit eater, having favoured vegetables since you were a lot younger but the idea of salad has always been boring and you'll always avoid it if you can.

"Do I have to?"

"Yes," Pernille replies," It'll make you big and strong."

You wrinkle your nose in annoyance as your spear a weird green cube on your fork. It's kind of soft but kind of not. Your fork goes straight through it and you sniff cautiously.

It doesn't smell bad, per say, but you still don't really want to eat it.

You do anyway because Momma is right but it doesn't mean you'll enjoy it.

And you really don't enjoy it.

The weird green cubes you eat make your mouth all itchy and your throat goes all tight again.

You scrunch up your face and put down your fork just as Obi joins the table.

"What's with the face?" She laughs, making everyone turn to look at you," Does the avocado taste weird?"

Magda and Pernille both freeze, food halfway to their mouths as Georgia cocks her head to the side in confusion.

"You're looking kind of red there, y/n. Do you need-"

You never quite hear what Georgia was going to ask as your throat closes up just as Pernille hauls you out of your seat.

Magda tears open the backpack on the back of her seat to grab an epipen, slamming it into your leg suddenly.

You yelp at the sudden pain blooming in your thigh but your throat and mouth feel less itchy and scratchy

"What the fuck?!" Georgia swears, feeling a little queasy as Magda pulls the needle out of your leg. She has to force herself to turn away until Magda puts it down.

Obi is also speechless, mouth opening and closing but no words are able to come out.

A crowd has formed now, after all the commotion and Pernille clutches you to her as the medics check you over.

You epipen works quickly and this reaction was nowhere near as severe as your first.

In fact, Magda reacted so quickly that your face didn't even have the chance to break out in hives fully so your recovery is already happening before you've even realised that you were having an allergic reaction.

"We'll pop an icepack on this," One of the medics say, hand lightly grazing the large bruise developing over your injection site.

"I feel sick," Georgia mutters nearby, having to turn away again when the she catches sight of the mere size of the bruise.

"She's okay?" Pernille checks, still clinging to you and furiously wiping away the few tears that have dripped down her cheeks.

"Keep the icepack on, let her get lots of rest and she'll be right as rain," The medic confirms.

Magda sits slumped on her chair, turning to Obi.

"She's allergic to avocado."

"I didn't know."

"I know. We should have told you. Kiwi and banana too."

"And latex," Pernille cuts in," But only kind of."

The adults are all fussing over you, Pernille especially.

You're still sitting on the floor together with a big icepack on your leg and her arms wrapped tight around you like she's scared to let go.

"Momma?"

"Yes?"

"Can I have my pasta back please?"

[bruisedboys]

Jealous Finnick part 2?

Instead it’s with Peeta and training for the Quarter Quell? 👀

of course honey! thank you for requesting x

finnick odair x fem!tribute!reader

Finnick's not exactly pleased when he finishes in the training simulation and finds you teaching Peeta how to make a fish hook. Your fingers are quick and delicate as they work thin bronze wire around a makeshift hook. Peeta copies you, pressed far too close to your side for Finnick's liking. The younger blonde is totally enraptured, and sure, Finnick doesn't blame him, you're beautiful, but still — a frown works onto his face on it's own accord.

"Hey," he makes himself known as he approaches your workstation, because you're too focused on your work, and Peeta's too focused on you.

You look up at the sound of his voice and beam. It makes Finnick feel a little better you're so happy to see him. "Finnick, hey. You're done already?"

Finnick's frown deepens. "Yeah. I got bored."

"You got bored of chucking your spear at stuff?" You tease.

Peeta laughs next to you. Something claws at Finnick’s heart.

"Very funny, sweetheart," he tells you, ignoring Peeta. He rounds the table to get an arm around your hips, tucking his chin over your shoulder, his front pressed to your back. "What are you making?"

You warm at his closeness. "Just a hook. It’s not very good. Mags showed me how, remember?"

Finnick hums, watching your hands over your shoulder. "Mm, I remember. It looks good to me."

"Peeta's looks better," you say. "Pete, hun, show him yours."

Pete? Hun? Finnick feels suddenly like he's been punched in the throat. He can’t focus as Peeta hands his hook over and you show it to Finnick, raving about the attention to detail, or something. He‘a hardly listening, too busy trying not to kick Peeta in the leg. Pins and needles bite at his skin and dance over his palms. He accidentally digs his fingers too hard into your hip and you twist in his hold to look up at him, concerned.

"Hey, are you okay?" You ask him. You forget the hooks, setting them on the table and twisting to look at Finnick properly. You touch his arm. “Baby, you're really stiff."

Finnick pretends he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “Am I?"

You hum and take his jaw in your hand. "Yeah, honey." You pout at him, your hand dropping to his shoulder where you dig your thumb into the muscle there. "Could I give you a massage later, would that help?"

Finnick swallows hard. "I— yeah, okay." You want to give him a massage? You’re the loveliest person on the planet, he thinks.

"Okay,” you nod. “Remind me tonight, yeah?"

You beam at him and push up onto your toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. Finnick feels far too overwhelmed to kiss back. He’s still dazed when you pull away and turn back to Peeta, who looks half embarrassed, like he shouldn’t be watching such an unabashed show of affection.

“Peeta was gonna show me some of his camouflage tricks,” you tell Finnick. “Did you wanna come, too?"

Finnick doesn’t answer right away, and at his pause, you lace your fingers through his and smile up at him, the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Please?” You ask, all sugary sweet, practically dripping in fondness.

“Okay,” Finnick nods, feeling a bit like you’ve put him under a spell. “Yeah.”

You beam at him and then drag him with you to follow Peeta to the opposite corner of the training room. Finnick doesn’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but he knows for sure now he never had any reason to be jealous.

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed 🤍

[cordeliawhohung]

FOAMING at the mouth by the thought of a quiet/whimperer reader with Gaz who REALLY wants to hear her.... So he gets toys in the mix

-🍫🔥

FUCK idk if you meant this for ps!gaz or not but this is so him coded. i wrote this on my lunch break forgive me

maybe the two of you are fucking on set, and its your first time together and you're more than a little nervous. he's got an easy, suave aura about him that should be comforting, but he rattles your nerves like no one else ever has before. you're so stuck in your own head that the entire time he spends warming you up, all you can think about is how you look and how you sound, and by the time he finally gets his cock inside of you, you've pretty much got stage fright.

and Kyle was hoping that you'd give him more. more than just those dainty, breathy whimpers. as delicious as they are, they're not quite filling, and he's ravenous. you think you've done something wrong when he pulls out, and even everyone else on set looks confused. you look up at him, eyes wide and questioning, praying that he hasn't gotten bored of you, but he just grins as he tells you to sit tight.

when he returns, he's got a wand in hand and a twinkle in his eyes that you can't tell if it stems from something devious or not. he wastes no time getting back to work spearing you on his cock, this time with the added stimulation of the wand vibrating on your clit. still, you try to have the fortitude to hold back, and Kyle nearly pouts at you when you do.

"not holdin' out on me, are ya doll?" he asks as if you've wounded him. "trying to keep those sounds to yourself? don't tell me you're savin' them for someone else..."

something slips. the gentle vibration of vocal chords rattles your throat, and you try and stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head as he turns the setting up on the wand. he coos at you as he fully sheaths himself inside of you, leaving you much too full and with so much stimulation you're panting like a dog. he gets another guttural moan out of you as he rolls his hips against yours, nearly undoing you.

"there she is," he chuckles. "not saving 'em after all then, huh? just wanted to yank my leash a little? fine by me, doll, but you better believe me when i tell you i earn my meals, so try and take it easy on yourself, yeah?"

[youronlydarlin]

drooling, begging, scratching at your door for more loser simon content

warning: ooc Simon cus he's a loser here, cum brained Si, you're kinda a slut in this one sorry, readers gender not specified, overstimulation, sub–ish but also kinda not really Si??

Loser! Simon who was actually supposed to be a one night stand only. Hell, if it weren't for your wandering eyes catching sight of him half chubbed up in his pants you would've never agreed. You don't just go around accepting any lay that comes your way. It pays to be a careful slut, yeah? But he's eager, too eager. Back straightening at all the sudden attention he's getting from pretty lil you. And you are pretty. So pretty in fact, that Johnny caught him eyeing you from across the bar. The man playfully nudging him in the elbow, followed by a wink and a whistle. "Go get 'em, LT.." at this point Loser! Simon knew he was caught. so what was the point of hiding it any longer...?

Loser! Simon who told himself that this was only gonna lead to rejection. That he'd just end up drinking whatever he bought for this incredibly attractive stranger. Color him surprised when you actually laughed at his jokes. sneakily raking your eyes up and down his frame like a predator toying with prey. At some point you've started massaging his thigh and Simon internally beats himself up for not thinking ahead of this. You're voice is so fucking hot though, that's for sure.

He's cute, yeah. The way he acts as if you're the one asking for sex is endearing but overall pretty boring. Kicking it up a notch, you do a risky move. Unsure if it's too much and he ends up deciding to forfeit and blue ball himself tonight. Leaning in close, you whisper something filthy in his ear. Surprised at just how quickly the bulge in his pants started to grow, what caught you off guard is how he's holding on so tightly to your waist now. Cheeky. Since when did he wrap his arms around you?

And that brings us to now.

You, bent over some grimy concrete wall at the back of this shoddy ass bar. Seems he was to impatient to get to a motel or something because he's jackhammering into you without a care in the world. Or a thought at that. It's like his hips move on their own, cock spearing you so impossibly deep that you feel him bulge through your stomach. The skin stretching, struggling to keep him all in.

Loser! Simon doesn't know what he's doing with his hands, he knows he should stabilize your position so he wraps his arms around your middle. Keeping you pressed up against him and the sensation is dizzying, the way it feels like he's consumed you body and soul. He has you trapped and overstimulated without meaning too. All he knows is that you're nearly screaming with pleasure, writhin' n squirmin' all cute. Mouth hanged open and tongue lolling out. He wants to kiss you. Wants your hot mouth on his. So he presses himself a little closer, hitting a little deeper than necessary and all of a sudden his plan to steal a quick kiss like a little shit has you reeling back ang cumming your brains out. You make a mess im return, hole getting tighter and tighter until you're milking Si all of he's worth. "Shit. Shit, shit– cumming. Sorry, m' cumming, cum– Fuckk." He reaches his peak and what feels like euphoria. Flooding your hole with hot, sticky cum. And you find yourself being tipped over the edge a second time.

Loser! Simon who just pants about you, you groan at the creeping feeling of soreness in your body and Si thinks you might be feeling uncomfortable. Pulling his now soft cock out of your used hole. The breeze hitting your sensitive spots make you hiss, followed by a whimper as you feel the evidence of tonights rendezvous flow out and trickle down your thighs. Not a another second passes by before you feel the comfortable weight of a jacket being wrapped over your form. He helps you up on shaky legs and offers to take you back to his place. Looking for a round 2?

a/n: this is shitty but m' horny so eh, m' so sorry that this took so long anon 😭 trying to clear out my inbox y'all. Double upload yeyy, this was still kinda bad, still trying to get back in the zone

Yours, truly,

–Dolly

[wheneclipsefalls]

Little Gift- Tremble

Pairing: Soft Dark Neteyam x Fem Human Reader

Little Gift Masterlist

Beautiful adult Neteyam pic by @cinetrix2

Summary: This is your last chance to run.

Warnings: aged up Neteyam, NSFW minors do not interact, dark Neteyam, NONCON/DUBCON, spanking, dirty talk, punishment, size difference, etc.

A/N: This one took a little longer than intended with all the life stuff going on, but yay it's here. Also, migt have gotten a little carried away with this part.

The outpost feels like a relic of a different time. One that you have only heard of in stories, but now seeing those worn down bunk beds and the corner of a room that Spider calls his own, it doesn’t feel as glorious. The worst part, however, is how naked you feel around other humans. It’s only a slight comfort that Spider is wearing Na’vi apparel too. 

“Oh and yeah and this is a spear I made in Awalatuu.” Spider says. “But maybe let’s move it out of the way.” He gives an awkward chuckle but it’s obvious that his only concern is you suddenly deciding to use it against him. 

Your arrival at the outpost had been anything but graceful. In hindsight you would have preferred to meet these people face to face instead of over Neteyam’s shoulder. 

“If you want we can uh….watch a movie. Oh yeah I bet I could swipe Norm’s Star Wars collection.” 

You don’t return the smile he gives you, too busy awkwardly sitting on his bed while pouting. You never thought it would feel strange to be back in a place like this but after being around the Na’vi for the past week, the outpost feels like walking into a rundown dollhouse. Everything is your size and nothing is as beautifully crafted as Neteyam’s kelku. 

The awkward silence is slightly painful but you can’t find it within yourself to feel bad for Spider. Not when he hasn’t shown even a morsel of sympathy for your situation. Your own kind and not even they find it important to get you out of here. Not that they could anyways. No doubt Neteyam would view such actions as a betrayal. 

“He wouldn’t let you come along, huh?” You finally ask. 

Spider stops digging through the worn down hard drives. 

“Who?” 

“Neteyam. Didn’t want you coming to see the RDA off either?” 

Spider scoffs at the, leaving the tech behind to cross the small room. 

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m not the one he’s worried about getting into trouble.” 

Spider may not have heightened senses like the Na’vi but you worry that he sees the way your hands ball around the thin blankets.

“So Lo’ak handed the role of babysitter off to you somehow.” You lean back against the cold wall, trying to appear bored by the conversation. 

“Just for today. He was clear that I would only be a substitute.” 

Your brows furrow at that. Maybe Lo’ak doesn’t mind watching over you as much as he lets on. Then again Lo’ak never fails to find your company amusing, and for all the wrong reasons. Some days you wonder if Neteyam would really be cross with you for slapping his brother across the face. Maybe if you batted your lashes and played it off as self defense….

“Well I’m sorry you can’t be there.” 

It’s Spider’s turn to look confused. 

“Why?” 

“Colonel Quaritch is your dad, isn’t he?” 

“That asshole is nothing close to a father.” Spider’s jaw clenches, posturing already shifting to loom over you. He may be human but his six foot frame of striped muscle greatly outweighs your own. 

“Oh trust me, I know. Quaritch has been nothing but a tyrant my entire life. I honestly don’t know how he managed to get back into General Ardmore’s good graces after half the stunts he has pulled. That’s why I was excited for today. Finally see that bastard put in his place.” Spider watches you closely. In some ways it feels like all he is missing he ears and tail of a Na’vi.

“Thought maybe you would want to see that too.” 

You know a good deal about Spider Soccoro. He is a story that is often shared among the recombinants but never in Quaritch’s presence. Many tales have been told of the feral stripped boy that was more trouble than worth. You wonder if the stories would have been different if he hadn’t chosen the Sullys in the end. Still, even with their biased filters you know that they put Spider through hell. 

Kidnapping is traumatic enough without having to watch islands burn and friends cry for justice. 

“I don’t care what happens to that bastard.” Spider huffs before promptly turning around and fishing through the hard drives once more. You’ve killed the already strained mood. 

“Well then you’re a better person than me. Good for you.” Spider doesn’t answer but you can tell he is listening. 

A bitter laugh escapes you. “Hell, I’ve only had to put up with him from a distance and I would ring his neck myself if given the chance.” 

Spider’s fingers fiddle with a blue hard drive, eyes staring down thoughtfully. 

“But I guess I should trust Neteyam to give him what he deserves. Watch that monster tuck his tail and accept his failure for what it is.”  It’s the one cause you consider Neteyam and yourself on the same side of. 

Leaning back, you prop your feet up onto the creaky mattress. 

“Yeah.” He says shortly. 

“Ugh don’t get me started on Lyle though-”

“What are you trying to do?” Spider springs to his feet, glaring daggers down at you. 

“What do-”

“Do you think I’m really that stupid? Neteyam told me you would do this. Trying to spin a story that would allow you to escape.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat. You’re startled by the outburst to say the least but at this point there is nothing to lose. This man you only met fifteen minutes ago is the difference between spending the rest of your days here and returning back to Earth. Neteyam’s punishments are far from being enough to deter you from taking this chance. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to-”

“Would it kill you to just stay out of trouble for this one day? For my sake?” The look he gives you is anything but tender in comparison to his words. 

The bitter taste of impending failure is already settling in. You can already feel the immense weight of this dread and it springs you into action. This can’t be the end. 

It won’t be. 

“Can you really blame me though? For wanting to say goodbye to everything and everyone I have ever known?” 

Spider goes quiet, hazel eyes suddenly avoiding your own gaze. 

“Believe whatever you want but the fact is this day will never repeat. This is literal history and…” You voice quivers, blunt teeth sinking into your bottom lip in restraint. The last barrier to holding the words back. “The last glimpse at my old life.” 

You don’t allow the gravity of those whispered words to plant themselves. This is all a ruse after all. Just enough sadness to get Spider to cooperate and yet saying it out loud feels like tying an anchor to your ankle. Truly realizing how stuck you may be from here on out. 

Spider doesn’t say anything for a long while. Neither of you look at each other, letting the silence sizzle between you. 

And then finally….

“We have to be quick.”

“And no touching anything. I mean it, shit out here can be extremely poisonous.” Spider rattles on, listing yet another rule to follow as the two of you venture through the thick terrain. You roll your eyes. You may not be a match for the creatures of Pandora physically but you’ve studied enough to understand what to stay away from.

“We’re there for five minutes tops, got it?” Spider says as he pushes a hanging branch out of your path. 

“Yes sir.” You salute him playfully. Now that you are less than a mile away from Bridgehead a certain giddiness begins to take over. It swirls together with your nerves and apprehension but it doesn’t deter you. This is the closest you have been to freedom in a week. 

Eywa’s mightiest creatures could not keep you from your goal. 

Years down the road when you wake up from kyro this will all be some awful dream that embeds itself into your revenge arch. Starting with Miles Quaritch of course. 

“I’m being serious. Neteyam will kill me if he sees you out here. I’m sticking my neck out for you.” 

“It will be worth it.” You say simply, a skip in your step when you recognize the familiar path that leads back to Bridgehead. This the same one you had carved deeper with every trip you had taken to your oasis. Looking back there is nothing more you regret but the sight of it still makes you smile. 

Spider never stops his stern rambling. Despite the fact that he is built like a Greek God, his speeches do little to intimidate you. Not when you’re used to nine feet of solid muscle and sharp canines. 

There is a bank that overhangs Bridgehead. A spot that Spider deems the perfect lookout for the two of you. You consider trying to convince him to get the two of you closer. After all, what good is a farewell that can’t be heard? Truth is, there really aren’t many people you would bother trying to say goodbye to. Jeremy moved on from you months ago, you have very little friends outside of that and what little you did have can be nothing but traitors by letting you get offered up without complaint. 

It feels like a risky move, however. Spider is sure to catch wind of your deception at the first hints of you disobeying.

“Here,” Spider mutters, suddenly pulling your arm so you stand directly in front of him. This leaves you sandwiched between the cliff’s edge and Spider’s tall frame. 

“Hey!” You snip at him, ripping your arm from his hold. 

“This way I can keep a close eye on you.” He smirks, hands resting confidently on his hips because he knows as well as you that his physical prowess greatly outweighs your own. It’s clear his trust is far from being earned. 

“Well do you have to breathe down my neck? Christ! I could use some space.” 

“No chance.” Spider responds shortly but his eyes are already scanning the crowd of RDA members below. 

“Neteyam doesn’t really take kindly to others sniffing around me.” 

You hate to play that card but it seems to be the only one you have in your deck and if you have any chance of getting out of here, Spider can’t be pressed up against you. A harsh glare is thrown down at you but with knitted brows and a fierce frown, the male takes a few steps back. It isn’t much, surely his presence will still be your first obstacle, but it’s a start. 

Every minute that passes by feels like torture. You watch as palettes of heavy equipment and artillery are rolled along the concrete with Na’vi supervising. Each one packed away is a signal of passing time, another stream of sand that falls through your hourglass of opportunity. The real nerves, however, kick in when the line of RDA members are escorted onto the ship. 

How long is it going to take them to load everyone?

How long until your hopes are dashed?

You spot Neteyam taking his place at the head. He is dressed up in his traditional Olo’eyktan gear completely with a feathered mantle and oval forehead jewelry, but this time he holds a gun. He holds it with confidence, finger strategically placed over the barrel and ready to strike at a moment’s notice. His golden eyes spark today like fire. Even from your lookout spot from above, you can feel that darting heat. 

You pray that they never fall on you again. 

Spider shifts over your shoulder suddenly, blonde dreads ticking your neck. You scramble out of his space but instead of jerking you into place as you expect, he takes your spot at the front. Brows knitting together, you watch him carefully as he crawls forward. 

Finally you spot what has captured his undivided attention. 

Colonel Miles Quaritch sternly leads his band of mutants through the crowd. They tower so high over the rest of the Sky People the sight is almost comedic. However, Spider is doing anything but laughing. His mask fogs up as he watches the scene with intensity. 

It’s like he is dead to the world, eyes trained on the man that has been anything but a father to him. 

You expect him to cheer, snarl, anything that shouts of victory. It was promises of seeing karma after all that had bought you this outing but Spider is silent and still. And then there is something else that flashes over his demeanor, a pang of emotion that is hard for you to place. 

Pain?

Hatred? 

Guilt? 

This swirl of tangled feelings is confusing.

Perhaps there is still so much more to learn about Spider Socorro. 

Regardless, this is your chance and you plan to take it. Tension bleeding into the moment you watch Spider diligently while beginning to back away. It feels as if the world’s ambience has been muffled into background noise and the only sound breaking through is the obnoxious puff of each breath through your mask. Neteyam hadn’t given you the serum shot this morning, assuming you would be spending the whole day in the outpost. Now, however, you wish he had. 

Spider is so enveloped in the moment, however, that he gives no recognition of the sound or even branch you clumsily snap when backing down from the cliff’s edge. 

There is no telling how long this trance will last or at what point you will be out of ear shot so you risk it all. 

Bare feet tingling in protest, you race across the forest floor. There’s no sign of an easy and stealthy way down into Bridgehead. Going back down your normal path would risk Spider spotting you race by. That’s not an option but neither is falling to your death. On the east side the cliff shallows out into a grassy hill. If you’re lucky enough you might just be able to creep down it and remain hidden beneath the heavy greenery. 

Upon reaching it, however, you step on loose dirt and the world rapidly spins around you. With neither a hint of grace or stealth you clumsily roll down the hill. Your muscles ache by the time you clunk to the bottom and you’re sure there are other injuries to be found. Adrenaline dulling the pain and panic, you dart to hide in the nearest bush instantly. 

The scene is so much louder now that you are up close. Heavy trucks make blaring beeping sounds while reversing and Na’vi freely let out loose cries of victory and foreign threats. The commotion is just enough to have your presence remain undetected. 

You don’t bank on that lasting for long though.

Your scanty traditional Na’vi attire is sure to draw attention. You need different clothes and you need it fast. Scaling around the outskirts of the chaos, you miraculously manage to make it to that familiar run down door. Sector two-your building. 

Paranoia constantly scraping at your attention, you barely let the room equalize before ripping your mask off. These hallways feel so different than you remember them. Perhaps it is the feel of the metal floors beneath bare feet or the lacking furniture and crowd. It sends a chill up your spine as you sprint towards your room. 

How much time do you have?

They can’t have loaded more than half of the crew by now.

And yet, the sight of deserted halls makes your feet slap against the floor faster. 

Get dressed. Immerse yourself in the crowd. Hide until take off is through and then find a kyro capsule.

You mentally check through this list. 

Piece of cake. 

Maybe saying it out loud would make it sound less like a fool’s hope. 

Fuck it. The odds don’t matter and neither do your nerves. This is a necessity, pure survival and that will be enough to keep you going. It will because it has to. 

Your feet slip across the laminated floor when you frantically scramble to go back the way you came. Two tall and ominous shadows wrap from around the opposite corner and you are afforded just enough time to dart behind a wall before Lyle and Z Dawg appear. 

“You’re an idiot.” She says. 

“Yeah yeah say whatever you want but don’t pretend like you wouldn’t rip someone in half for a Big Mac right now.” Lyle defends himself, their shadows now paint the dimly lit corridor, stretching closer and closer to your tucked away spot.

You could run, but these are recombinants. They would pick up the sound of your footsteps in an instant. The wind from your sprint would carry your scent. 

“Sure, but I asked what your first meal back on Earth would be, not what your guilty pleasure fast food order is.” 

“These savages can keep their overgrown weeded garden of a planet. I want some fucking chicken nuggets!” 

As their voices become louder it appears that running will be your only choice after all. 

“I don’t even know why I ask at this point.” She sighs and a short hiss echoes down the hallway. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, feet repositioning as you prepare yourself to run. If you were smart you would have already been halfway down the hallway at this point but some part of you refuses to move. It clings to hope foolishly. 

“Well I’m sure-”

“Shut up asshole. The comm.” Z Dawg hisses and they both turn silent, no doubt listening to the orders on the other end. 

Your hands are shaking now, that tremor traveling up your shoulders as you await their response. 

“Copy that.” Lyle says and then the sound of heavy boots recedes into the distance. 

You can hardly believe your luck. 

That dark cloud of dread ripples away and hope takes its place once more. Maybe you can pull this off after all. 

Your room is exactly as you left it. No one has bothered to pack up any of your things or even dispose of your half folded laundry. This tiny corner of a shared living space has been your own for your whole life, everything you have known. It feels so small now. 

Rifling through the laundry basket you find a loose green tee and a pair of  tan shorts. You originally had a whole outfit planned for this day, something comfortable but nice. Those garments are, however, still crumpled up on the ground. This will have to do. 

As you hastily slip them over the beaded jewelry and tewng you pray to whatever god will listen that this will be enough to keep you incognito. You are barely finished buttoning up the shorts when heavy footsteps ring down the hallway. 

Their echo is soft, no doubt still several halls away but they are progressively getting louder. Now is not the time to take any more risks. This room is tiny and already cramped with scattered junk. Hiding under your bed would not only be idiotic but near impossible with the way your creaky bed  swoopes so low to the ground. There is, however, an old built-in cabinet above that you’ve used to hold your clothes. 

It’s just barely big enough for you to squeeze into so with those footsteps getting louder and your own terror sky rocketing, you push everything out of it and shove your body into the metal space. The door has metal slots with just enough slant to allow your visual through it. 

Your clammy right hand presses over your mouth when the door to the room creaks open.

Neteyam strolls in leisurely, eyes sweeping over the cramped space with interest. With wide eyes and strangled lungs, you watch him prowl through the area slowly. He bends down to run his fingers over the rumbled sheets, the back of his hand lingers over your pillow case. 

He takes his time looking through the various knick knacks and cords littering your night stand. He doesn’t hesitate to ball the old picture of Jeremy into his fists. Its remains are tossed to the side without care. 

Did he toss the real Jeremy like that?

You make a vow to find him as soon as you make it on board. 

Assuming Neteyam hasn’t already hunted him down. 

You could look for whatever is left of Jeremy.

You can’t think about that now, though. Not as your heart is pounding against your ribs like a bird trying to escape a cage. Not when Neteyam lifts his mask for a sip of air as he plays with your tiny music box. 

He is gentle with all of your belongings, roaming through the area like a man that doesn’t have hundreds of Sky People to threaten off of his planet. Surely, he will have to leave soon. He’s just here out of curiosity, more of his stalker tendencies pushing him to invade your space. 

The music box looks like a Christmas ornament in his palm and you worry that he will accidently crush it. It was a pain in the ass to get and a possession you have always treasured because of that. Neteyam’s ears push forward when he finally figures out how to start the music and that delicate ballerina begins to twirl. 

“Maybe it’s all of your silly trinkets.” He breaks the silence, you startle slightly. He can’t be talking to you, you remind yourself. Neteyam thinks he is alone, just nosing through your old room as he thinks out loud. “Is that what you miss so much? What has you running off and acting naughty, little gift?” 

He’s bluffing. There is no way he could know you are here. Your scent has to be strong in the room but that’s to be expected since this was your living space. Ironically this should be the perfect place to hide away. 

“You know,” He starts, carefully placing the music box back down. “I was planning on letting you bring some of these funny things back to our kelku once you start behaving. A little incentive to be my good girl.” 

The knot in your throat is near impossible to gulp down and when you do, his ears twitch. You don’t want to believe it. How did he find you? You tug your legs closer to your chest as if you can contort yourself into a small enough ball that will magically disappear. 

“But it’s obvious now that you respond better to retribution than reward.” 

It’s a miracle that your lip doesn’t split from how hard your teeth press into it. Neteyam may not be able to track your scent here but the smell of blood would be a dead giveaway. All signs point to being caught but you aren’t ready to hand over the last shreds of hope yet. Neteyam doesn’t know about the cabinet. He’s bluffing about knowing you are here. No one has seen you. 

“We can revisit the idea of a reward system later, pet.” 

The muscles in your legs are cramping beyond relief, begging you to stretch out. You don’t heed these discomforts, too paralyzed by the proximity of your captor. Neteyam on the other hand appears deceivingly content and relaxed, rummaging through your things as if he has all the time in the world. 

He carefully opens your nightstand drawer and those hairless eyebrows raise immediately. The bras are tossed to the side with the same care as the picture but then tiny little lace fabric hangs from his fingers. It’s far from your greatest problem but your cheeks heat anyways when he carefully observes your light purple panties. 

Out of all the drawers to open it seems that Neteyam knows just the one to torment you with. 

“Then again,” The Olo’eyktan smirks. “These are quite cute.” And this time instead of inhaling from the respirator he soaks in the scent from the small fabric instead. Your thighs clench together. 

“Wouldn’t mind having my little tawtute model these for me.” He hums, while pulling out several more pairs. He tucks them away safely in a small pouch attached to his loincloth. “That is, once I finally get rid of this rebellious streak of yours.” 

You allow yourself a small sigh when Neteyam goes around to the other side of the bed, just enough distance for you to breathe properly. 

“Time to come out, little gift.” He squats down onto his haunches, prowling across the floor like a predator on track. He must be searching for you and if that is true then you may still have a chance yet. Neteyam may think you are in here but he doesn’t know where exactly. 

Thoughts race through your mind at a thousand miles per minute. They twist and twirl to find some way that you could get out of this situation unscathed. The doorway is visible through the slanted slits of the cupboard. With the proper footing you may be able to close that distance with a courageous leap. And maybe, just maybe that would be enough to catch Neteyam off guard and give you a head start. 

You make one fatal mistake, however. 

If there is one thing a good prey knows to do, it is to keep sight of their predator at all times. 

Your feet don’t even get the chance to hit the ground, instead dangling and thrashing once you are caught with a strong hold around your waist. Hoping is waning but disappointment sprouts into increased vigor as your nails digging into his arms and legs struggle to kick back at him. 

“YOU MOTHERFUCK-” Your cursing slings into a shriek when Neteyam grabs a fistful of your hair and uses it to strongly crane your head backwards. His golden eyes are dilated until only a thin rim of molten gold is visible. The weight of his angry gaze takes your breath away. 

“Enough.” He enunciates the word, like a drawn sword ready to slash. “Listen closely, pet.” The lump in your throat goes down with a strained gulp. “There is not an inch of this Sky Demon hell hole or corner of this planet that you can run to without being drawn back to me. You are mine and I’ve done well to mark my property.” The fingers intertwined in your hair tickle over the back of your neck, no doubt leaving the trail of his scent behind. “You reek of me.” 

Tears gather at the corner of your eyes and you flutter them closed to avoid his burning attention. 

“As you should.” His voice rumbles as nothing more than a growl against the nape of your neck. 

“I never asked for this!” Your fighting dimms down to nothing more than squirming as gritting the choked words out sucks your energy away. Before you can do anything to stop it, tears blaze trails down your cheeks. “Just let me go! Please!” 

“Quiet, pet.” 

Another yank to your hair and the words die on your lips. It’s clear now that the time for fun and games is over. Neteyam wastes no time in throwing you onto the creaky mattress and covering your body with his own until he becomes a shadow blocking out the fluorescent light above. His thighs straddle your waist, putting just enough weight down to keep you in place. 

“No more tears.” He sighs, with down turned lips, but doesn’t pause his bunching of your tee shirt. “It’s clear I’ve been spoiling you too much.” 

A broken grasp is pulled from your throat when he easily tears the shirt straight down the middle. You’re not sure what you are trying to accomplish as you swat at his working hands. The shirt was neither your favorite nor of great importance but you still try to stop the onslaught of ripping. 

Confused and overwhelmed you squirm as he rips it into wide ribbons of fabric and then without warning you are flipped onto your stomach. You scramble to crawl away but Neteyam’s plants a foot on your ass and that is unfortunately all it takes to pin you down. Your hands are snatched next, forced together behind your back as the ripped stripes of your own shirt are used as makeshift rope to tie your wrists together. 

Something about him using your own personal clothing to keep you bound for him has your legs kicking out fiercely. It won’t do much damage even if you manage to hit him, but there needs to be an outlet for your anger. You need to feel like there is still some wreckage for you to inflict. The last tiny shred of power that you cling to for dear life. 

Neteyam isn’t in the mood to put up with your outbursts. Much like a fresh kill from his hunting trips he keeps you pinned and makes quick work of binding you imobile. The action is so well rehearsed and instinctual in fact that he already moves on to his next task of destroying your shorts. 

Shrieks and small clawing fingers are simply background ambience for the Olo’eyktan as he works. Surprisingly the small tawtute sized Na’vi clothing is not exempt from the male’s destructive hands. They too become nothing more than rolling beads and scraps of fabric falling to the floor. 

Your string of bloody curses are only temporarily interrupted by your own gasp when Neteyam takes a seat on the bed and throws you over his knee in one swift move. Kicking is no longer an option for your rage when he swings one leg over both of yours. Blood rushes to your head but even dizziness can’t stop your violent outrage. 

However, it appears a cracking smack to your upturned ass can. 

The pain doesn’t ripple forward until a few moments after your shock has subsided. Neteyam has always had creative ways of punishing you but this is different. You’d figured that he would never lay a hand on you after all that he has droned on and on about how important it is to protect a fragile thing like you. 

But another hit accompanies the first and this time you can’t hold back your small squeak. 

“Just as I thought.” He spanks you again, his hand mercilessly hitting both cheeks with every strike. “You’ve been practically begging for a firmer hand.” The cry that the next rapid three slaps pull from you is one that you don’t recognize. 

“Pretty little things like you still struggle to remember their place.” 

“Stop! Stop!” You shriek, trapped legs still fruitlessly sprawling for escape. 

“Don’t worry, little gift.” He squeezes one of your pink cheeks after this last spank. “That’s what I am here for. I won’t let your silly little tawtute tendencies keep you away from me.” 

It doesn’t take long for the color of your backside to match your face as the blood drains to your head. Neteyam is persistent, hardly batting an eye at your cries and shrieks. From cursing to death threats, none of your spewed venom makes him flinch. If anything you manage to catch his small smirk when you twist to glare up at him. You don’t make that mistake again when you find this behavior only rewards you with condescending coos from the Na’vi. 

“That’s a good girl. Let all those nasty words go.” He purrs, heavy hand never letting up on your poor bottom. 

It’s this praise that has your mouth clamping shut. You hold back any and every sound you can as your ass takes a beating. Which is not a lot when the Na’vi male has unfathomable strength and your backside already feels like flames could erupt from it at any moment. 

“Oh pet, I’ve hardly even touched you and you’re already blushing so pretty for me.” Neteyam hums in delight, hand roaming over your burning ass like an art piece just waiting to be admired properly. 

Hardly even touched you?

Is this just his way of being an ass or are you truly that far from the finish line?

You jolt when one finger slips between the crack of your cheeks, teasing over your hole gently. A sound caught between a scream and whimper erupts from you without thought. Bound hands flatten and flail to cover the untouched area but Neteyam simply chuckles and lets his own hand retreat. 

“Mawey, tiyawn.” Neteyam pats your backside softly, almost in a casual reassuring manner. “Another day.” 

It’s hard to say what is more humiliating. Being bound and turned over the Olo’eyktan’s knee like a naughty child or the wetness trickling from your pussy at the feel of his teasing fingers in a place you’ve never dared let anyone else explore before. 

Pain is a great distraction from your humiliation. So much so that it eventually motivates you to dash pride to the side and begin your pleading. 

“A-ah Neteyam! I’m sorry! I’m sorry…eh-ah I-I’ll be good!” It’s not even clear what you are trying to say anymore. Your mouth runs on autopilot, throwing out any line of remorse in hopes of one doing the job. “I ngh-ah didn’t mean to! I won’t run! Can’t take anymo- ah! Neteyam!” 

He reigns his hits to warm the underside of your thighs too, moving between that vulnerable area and your ass in such an erratic way that it is impossible to anticipate where the next will land. 

Plea after plea is thrown out but resembles nothing more than garbled desperation, nothing that can pass as a full sentence.

However, one call catches his attention.

“Olo’eyktan please!” 

The sound of slapping skin stops. 

Tears continue to plunge down your cheeks even without the constant spanking, your ass burns and tingles in shock. The tuft of his tail poruses over your naked thighs, sending a sensation both painful and ticklish. 

“Repeat, pet.” 

“Wha-what?” You stammer, voice thick with tears. 

“What did you say?” That large hand comes down once more like a crack of lightning. 

“AH! Olo’eyktan O-Olo’eyktan please please please. No more no more!” 

He smooths over your knotted hair, pushing it away from your sweaty temple and tear stained face. It’s tempting to look away from his soft gaze but intuition tells you to let him see the trembling state he has left you in. Let him witness how pitiful and distraught a simple spanking has made you be. 

“I….I’m sorry, Olo’eyktan.” 

Neteyam smiles like one would at a lover, a tender pride lacing his lips. 

“You’re learning, pet.”

Putting batteries in that small remote was a mistake. A ridiculous useless mistake that now leaves you standing on shaky legs. The pink vibrator that has resided in your nightstand drawer dutifully on hand for years is now the source of your torment. 

Well, maybe not the source per say. 

No, the true origin of this humiliation stares back at you with knowing eyes and swatting tail, his large hand making that tiny remote look like a children’s toy. The vibrator buzzes inside of you on the lowest setting, but that relief can only last for so long with the way Neteyam enjoys jumping between the different levels. 

Every last shredded piece of your Na’vi and human clothing lays back on the floor of your old bedroom. The only savior of your decency is Neteyam’s cloak that he had thrown around your shoulders. With the size difference this cloak acts more like a dress and therefore gives you more coverage than you’ve had in a week yet somehow leaves you feeling more vulnerable than ever before. Trembling fingers never stray from the seams of the cloak, keeping it wrapped around you tightly as the crowds of humans and Na’vi continue to pass you. 

Neteyam has left you with one of the other Na’vi warriors but never out of his sight. It’s a miracle that your hands were cut loose in the first place but perhaps that is another sick joke the Olo’eyktan plays on you. He knows that you won’t run. He knows you can’t run. His attention and promised consequences for misbehavior are more than enough to keep you tucked in his pocket. 

That and of course his control over the rippling vibrations that torture your pussy. 

The nearest warrior is sure to be noticing your frazzled state by now. At least he has the decency to hide his interest, unlike another Na’vi that watched from the sidelines. Lo’ak, leaned against one of the hoverships like it’s a random Tuesday afternoon, watches with a small smirk and perked ears. If Neteyam notices, he doesn’t seem to have a problem with it because Lo’ak is left unbothered in his ogling. 

The tempo increases, the vibrator now picking a pattern of random pulses that bash against your sweet spot. Bottom lip bleeding now from your biting, it’s a struggle to keep your moans at bay. With the heavy machinery moving and hundreds of Na’vi and humans passing surely there must be enough noise to block out any degrading sounds you make. But you can’t take that risk. You’ve made the mistake of underestimating the Na’vi’s enhanced hearing before and that is what has landed you here. 

Neteyam twirls the tiny remote between his fingers like a fidget toy as another Na’vi warrior comes to report. 

You start to commiserate the loss of that ridiculous human sized loincloth Neteyam made you because at least then there was some fabric barrier to hide your wetness. Now, the thick Pandoran air runs up the cloak and over your soaked thighs and cunt. It reminds you constantly how pathetic you have become as orgasm after orgasm has escaped your grip. Even worse it reminds you how easy it is to carry that aroused scent through the breeze for all Na’vi to detect. At that rate, worrying about your noises is the least of your concerns. 

Lo’ak reloads the machine gun with practiced hands, moving with muscle memory so he can continue to stare and send silent messages your way. No doubt he is theorizing on what exactly his brother has done to diminish you to such a state. His eyes dance with those ideas, the little quirk of his lips telling you just how creative and vial his thoughts have turned. 

Another level up and this time it is Neteyam’s eyes that have you squirming. Your impending orgasm coils tighter and tighter with every passing second and you're so desperate to find some way to release this energy that your bare feet begin fidgeting against the concrete. It’s almost like a little dance, one that has Lo’ak laughing under his breath. 

It stops.

You breathe. 

There is some sort of commotion off in the distance. Not one that you can truly pin down the source of but you do notice the way Neteyam nods as a Na’vi female says something to him. With a wave she is dismissed and then the Olo’eyktan saunters off. Although slightly worried over the trouble, you are grateful for the respite. 

And then a nightmare unfurls before your eyes.

Instead of marching to the issue, Neteyam takes a pit stop to converse with his younger brother. Lo’ak’s tail whips in the wind at whatever is whispered in his ear but the real horror comes when that traitor of a remote is handed over to the younger Sully male. 

You are seconds away from stomping over there and crushing that pink little weapon before the other male can wield it. However, your dutiful guard places a hand on your shoulder after just one step. His eyes remain locked forward but the warning is enough as his hand retreats. You are still being watched. 

With one last glance your way, Neteyam has the audacity to give you, his little pet, a warm smile before leaving you in the hands of his brother. 

Lo’ak swings the gun around to his back in favor of playing with his new toy. Every dark and viscous fiber left within you is channeled into the glare you give him. It should say everything that your lips can not.

Don’t you dare.

Don’t you fucking dare. 

Now would be a good time to look into Na’vi curses, anything you could betrix upon him for what he is about to do, because of course Lo’ak won’t back down. If anything that fire in your eyes lights his own delight and has him sitting down and bracing forward. Forearms resting on his thighs he clocks your every movement.

This is sure to be the best entertainment the bastard has had in a long time. 

He savors the passing moments of anticipation. Never backing down from the ultimate seething looks you give him. Finally a crash sounds and that distraction is right when Lo’ak sets the vibrator to high. From zero to one hundred, pleasure rackets through you like a shock wave. The force is so much that it temporarily makes you stumble on your feet. The other guard wordlessly steadies you back into place. 

Lo’ak’s grin is feral. 

This silent battle slips between your fingers so quickly it is hard to comprehend, because all that can register in your brain is how fast you are hurtling towards an orgasm. After Neteyam’s denial your body is high strung and ready to take any sensation as fuel to push you over the edge. Nails digging into the soft fabric of Neteyam’s cloak, pleasure rockets higher and higher until only the whites of your eyes are visible. 

Knees bowing inward, ecstasy is finally yours. 

There isn’t enough energy left to question why Lo’ak let you reach your high. Instead you focus on riding that wave while simultaneously keeping upright. 

That persistent buzzing against your sweet spot continues until your nerves are short circuiting. The pleasure turns to overstimulation and you give Lo’ak a look that alerts him of this change. 

His amusement tells you that he already knows your predicament but his thumb remains far from the off button. 

Pathetic noises now bubble up your throat without restraint as pleasure ebbs into pain. It switches back and forth until another release is on the verge of consuming your being. The guard next to you doesn’t say anything when he helps to sit on the cold ground. 

The second orgasm has a bitter taste to it but your greedy pussy clenches around the toy all the same. It’s almost too bad that Neteyam decided not to gag you because at least that would muffle your cries as you rock down onto the toy. Lo’ak gulps at the sight, pupils blown wide when the first glimmer of tears scrape down your cheeks.

Regardless, he shows no mercy as he takes in the show with undivided interest. 

Vaguely you register the bustle and commotion around you as different Na’vi and humans rush to and fro, giant machinery finally backing into place but they are only background noise to your third orgasm. 

Your body is caught between delight and despair with every passing second. When you are close to reaching your peak for the fourth time your body is resistant to get you there all the way. The intense buzzing in your pussy is driving you wild but still not enough to drag out another orgasm after being too overstimulated. Despite the soreness that emanates from your wrecked hole, your clit throbs in agony. Begging to be touched. To be licked. Pinched. Flicked. God, anything at this point.

Memories of Neteyam doing just that surface, pushing you closer and closer to another dumbing climax and yet only serve as a reminder of how you are not getting the treatment you so desperately need. Pride is dashed to the side, you’ll worry about the consequences of grinding onto the toy in public later. 

Lo’ak’s hands roughly brush over his inner thighs and it draws your attention. The taunt muscle and smooth skin of those thighs would surely brush over your intimate flesh so perfectly. He would probably help you too, hands clawing at your hips as they urge you back and forth over the area. Even more so, the younger brother would not be able to pass up the opportunity to show his power over the situation, muscles flexing to tease your clit oh so beautifully. 

You’re not sure when Lo’ak became telepathic but he grips his knees and gives you a look that says he knows every dark desire that plagues your brain. His nails press into that soft flesh and drag until there are pretty red marks left behind. If you crawled over there sweetly, would he let you ride? Maybe if you healed those red marks with open mouthed kisses and kitten licks. 

Unaroused you would be ashamed of this train of thought but she is so far gone now. 

The only thing your poor abused cunt is begging for was attention. Anything to get this awful mix of heaven and hell to bleed into euphoric release and rest. 

The only thing stopping you from reaching down and finishing the job yourself is the assurance that Lo’ak would snip all pleasure in a bud at the sight of any touching. 

The area has been cleared of invaders. Na’vi begin to make their way off to the hills before take off but you are none the wiser. Caught in your own little bubble you don’t even notice when a sudden shadow blocks out the sun. That is until, large warm hands slip under the cloak and skate over your spread legs. 

Such a simple touch has never made you whimper more. 

Neteyam’s accent is thicker now, words heavy enough to hardly understand the meaning as he coos at you. “There’s my sweet pet. Little slut just wants to come again, don’t you?”

His fingers force your legs to spread even wider. Lo’ak’s stares as if his glare could heat up enough to burn through that cloak. 

With such delicacy it makes you want to scream, Neteyam uses two fingers to part your pussy lips and expose your pulsing clit. The other hand slithers down to rest on your thigh as you try to buck against the air. 

“Come for your Olo’eyktan, pet,” He growls and with the other hand he begins delivering rapid little taps to your clit. It’s humiliating how tiny the gesture that puts you over the edge is but you paint the toy white regardless. 

When the vibrator finally takes a rest you are too far lost in your own little world. Neteyam swaddles you in the cloak and carries you in his arm as you bury into his chest. And conveniently, when you are tucked back in the forest there is no awareness left in you to recognize the sound of launching ships. 

As always interaction and feedback not only means the world to me but also as a great motivator for writing and updating<3

Taglist: @pandoraslxna@neteyamssyulang@tallulah477@criticallybella@sullybrothersmate@lilghostiequinni@chershire23@lala-1516@teyamshuman@yawnetu@puddle-nerd@ratchetprime211@avatargirly @chocolatechocobo91 @kariz-stark@bunnscoffe @avatarwifey @universal-s1ut@witchsprit@heart-an0n @riri-is-a-girlie @rivatar@minnory@ikeyniofthetayrangi@ilovehobi101@spicymayyo@v4mp1rr3@nilsavatar@bambithewriter@quicktosimp@itchaboi-itchyboy@thehoneymushroomhealer @ilytulipse @witchsprit@imwutim@crazy4books1@thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction@danniackerman@dayyzlol@justabite7 @krispyjellyfishkitty @neteyamtesuli @sakurayuki8655-blog @deadpool15 @valeriinee @leaveitbythewave @aqxllo @mxnygn @crazed-flower @crimsonroses666 @property-of-neteyam @rejectedbytheempty

Let me know if I missed you. It's getting a littly tricky to keep track of everyone haha

[massiveladycat]

i will never get over people laughing at octavian's death personally,,, he was SHOT INTO THE AIR!!! thats so painful. all the burns and the impact, plus being flung from a cannon and probably slamming into gaia (literal earth goddess) plus festus (gigantic metal dragon, i bet that HURT) and leo (pretty sure leo was burning)

he was a kid and he was annoying to some people and he was usually antagonized but he didnt deserve to die OR go out in that way. the gods are a thousand times worse than octavian, and apollo told him that he'd be a savior of new rome, but people still justify them. not to mind there are much worse people in the PJO universe (gabe, LUKE)

octavian ily they could never make me hate you EVER. idc what you say he could have been redeemed. did he do bad things? yes. but he was so deeply influenced and the day meeting with leo and the others, in which i remind you octavian literally was watching new rome get blown up (no wonder he was livid, his home was on FIRE).

like come on. octavian is a complex character and people aren't willing to admit that he could've been better and he was just a literal teenager in the sake of hating him because everyone else/pjo characters hate him.

he is such a tragic character imo because he grew up in new rome and all he wanted to do was protect it (and he was highly ambitious and aiming for praetor, i won't deny the fact that he was selfish but that is a quality that can be REDEEMED) and sure the way he went about it was messed up but most of his actions (except killing that one centurion) were justifiable

btw im not saying octavian's like an angel or anything im pretty sure i remember him "killing" a 5th cohort centurion once but then she was revived which . . . what was the point of that?? was it just to like make us hate him more?? huh??? and then was it even ever talked about again?? also yeah he blackmailed hazel thats not good also judging from the wikipedia it only said frank suspected octavian because.. he didn't have his spear?? what?? reminder that there is proof that a lot of pjo characters are unreliable narrators and for all we know octavian could've screwed up somehow and left his spear somewhere (just saying i'd do that too ngl)

also "I am the savior of Rome! I was promised!" i didnt know why but that quote DESTROYED me but now i know that it was because he genuinely believed he was doing the best for new rome and he'd finally have someone's praise and they'd praise him like they praised percy and reyna. pretty sure his mental state was not very good in that scene either and nico and will just let him shoot himself out of an onager on accident. also are we just going to gloss over the fact apollo told him that and encouraged him he was doing the right thing?? of COURSE octavian trusted apollo on that and believed it was the truth; apollo was his ancestor and someone he worshipped as an augur and trusted in for omens and prophecies and allat

yeah. octavian's an asshole. but he was a kid and he couldve been redeemed. then again i am a huge octavian apologist and im not saying you have to have the same opinions as i do also i will not be responding to any asks in my inbox im 2 tired to deal with that!! anyways dont go and insult people or me if you think the opposite thats fine !! i was just bored and found this in my drafts so whats the harm of posting it because im not going to get sent threats over this right,,, right??????

[meowcatsposts]

Necklace [Ao'nung]

✎⁾⁾⁾ note: reader is metkayina & Ao'nung is probably OOC

Overview

Boy is jealous (not good at hiding it, either-)

Why? The Sully kids.

He has a necklace he wants to give you, but he just can't

You hissed in Ao’nung’s face–baring your teeth just a little bit–hoping he’d get the message. Your eyes burned. Your tail swished. The Sully kids looked at you in awe. How were you, a mere Metkayina, able to stand up against the Olo’eyktan’s son? 

Ao’nung and the rest of his gang remained silent–awestruck, even. No one dared to oppose him, really, let alone hiss in his face! You were a bold one, for sure, to do something like that. 

“Leave them alone,” you said. It struck ice into everyone’s hearts but you felt calm, unlike the blood roaring in your ears; perhaps it was Eywa who was soothing you. “We’re all equal. Get that into your thick skulls.”

From that day on, the Sully kids stuck to you like glue–even dragged you around so they wouldn’t get bullied.

Great timing. Absolutely perfect.

Ao’nung couldn’t shake off this…sting from earlier. He thought you’d react like him–not like his sister Tsireya. He thought you didn’t like outsiders; you even said you’d only accept a Metkayina mate! You and Tsireya were too warm to the Sully kids–who had five fingers, lanky blue bodies, and thin tails–helping them and cheering them on in the ocean. What were you–a freak, too? 

Ao’nung looked down at his hand. Resting on his palm was a necklace, hand-made by him–for you. He wove the cord by hand, always doubting if it would be too tight or too loose. He hand-picked every shell; they had to be the perfect size. He even waited until nighttime to pick out the ones that glowed the prettiest, the brightest. And the clasp–the hardest part. He hand-carved a small conch into a clasp, so you needn’t go through the trouble of tying the necklace. It took him hours to complete. Sometimes, his hands got so tired he had trouble feeling his fingers the next day. (But he’d brush it off; he was Tonowari and Ronal’s son, after all–the Olo’eyktan and Tsahik.)

Ao’nung’s blood boiled. To think that all his efforts would go to waste! 

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” Tuktirey squealed. She latched onto your leg and gazed up at you with her gleaming, glowing eyes of childish glee. 

“What is it?” you asked, wondering what the youngest Sully kid wanted. Tuk was cute, always running around the marui and playing with the sea life. 

“Can you take me to the ilu again? Please?” she pleaded. It was almost every day she asked you to take her to feed the ilu, watch the ilu, or ride the ilu, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say “no” to that cute little face. 

Taking Tuk’s smaller hand into yours you replied, “Ok,” with a smile adorning your lips. 

Ao’nung gazed at you from afar, blood pumping hotly. His heart was beating fast, even he could tell. Like Tsireya, how were you able to treat the Sully kids so nicely, like they were Metkayina? He was supposed to be kind, respectful, but right now, he just couldn’t. Especially when you were being so cordial and smiley–even defended them! What were you thinking?

He saw you and the little Sully girl ride an ilu, giggling and laughing. And it wasn’t the first time, either. On other occasions he saw you mingling with Neteyam, Lo’ak, or Kiri, helping them with their breathing, ilu riding, diving…way more than necessary, in his opinion. Heck, you even touched them!

A burning scar lingered in Ao’nung’s mind. Your teeth, bared at him. Your eyes, boring through him. Him! Him! Not the outsiders! 

Ao’nung gripped the hilt of his fishing spear. Hard. So hard until his knuckles turned bluish-white.

You, Ao’nung, Rotxo, and other young Metkayina were to fish along the reefs, so you left Tuk under Kiri’s care. The little one would be safe with Kiri, you knew.

“Thank you,” the older Sully girl said, bobbing in the water with Tuk. 

The water, glistening off your skin. The sun, shining on your hair and your eyes, lighting them up like halos. The ocean, hugging and caressing your body that cut through the gentle waves so fluidly.

“Ao’nung,” Rotxo whispered, throwing glances your way; he easily guessed what his friend was thinking. “Your fish swam away.”

Seeing that his prize was nowhere to be found, Ao’nung clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing in disgust. He was supposed to be a skilled hunter and diver for his age–not staring at some freak-lover.

“You caught enough, though,” Rotxo added quickly, hoping to quell his friend’s frustration. It seeped through his entire being, Rotxo could tell, and it unnerved him. Why was Ao’nung acting so prickly?

“You good?” Rotxo asked, looking into Ao’nung’s eyes. They’ve been cloudy for the past few days. 

“I’m fine,” Ao’nung replied curtly. He didn’t dare look into Rotxo’s eyes. Or else he’d crumble and tell him everything. 

Everyone had returned from fishing, and you were nowhere to be seen–probably with the Sully kids again. That thought alone had Ao’nung’s blood boiling mildly.

Rotxo snorted and rolled his eyes. Ao’nung wasn’t fine, duh. 

Ao’nung snapped, and he snarled, “What?” 

“Just making sure you’re not going to pick a fight with Lo’ak again,” Rotxo teased. After a short, uncomfortable silence he whispered, “You know you can tell me.”

Ao’nung just grunted. 

“It’s about (Y/N), isn’t it?” Seeing that his friend’s ears perked up a little, Rotxo continued, “Just give your gift. At least you’ll be able to confess.”

At first you thought Ao’nung gave it to the wrong person, but it wasn’t so. His eyes were way too shy, way too genuine. They were soft, reflecting the moonlight, not hard like obsidian. And they darted around like fish.

A necklace, handmade, lay in your palms. Woven delicately into the cord were several small shells, each placed an equal distance from each other. In the day they would reflect the sunlight, glimmering softly. At night they would glow prettily, almost like the sky–purple, blue, a tinge of pink. At the end of the necklace was a clasp, carved out of a conch. Speckles of pink dotted the glossy ivory. You remained silent the whole time, out of words; words just couldn’t express the feelings swirling in your heart. 

Ao’nung, on the other hand, was growing agitated, quietly wondering if you’d reject his gift. His eyes flitted from your wide ones to the necklace as he fought the urge to jump into the ocean. (The necklace took him ages to craft, though, so he prayed to Eywa you’d accept it with a smile, at least.) 

Finally cutting the thick silence he asked bitterly, “What, you hate it?” The poor boy tried to hide the hurt gurgling in his stomach. “I can take it back–”

Before Ao’nung could snatch the piece of jewelry from your hands you pulled it back to your chest, replying with a defiant, “No!”

“What?” Ao’nung’s ears flattened slightly; he was confused. “Then why were you quiet?”

“I…I like it,” you said shyly–so softly that Ao’nung doubted his ears. “I like it a lot…I just don’t know what to say.” After a brief pause you found the words you were searching for, and gazed earnestly into Ao’nung’s eyes. “It’s beautiful. Very, very beautiful. Thank you.”

You accepted his gift! Bitter feelings washed away, Ao’nung nearly melted right then and there. He thought he could get sucked into those sweet eyes of yours. 

“...Here,” he mumbled. “I’ll help you put it on.”

Ao’nung, with a gentleness that even he was surprised at, parted your hair. It was his first time touching you like this, so tenderly, so affectionately. With trembling fingers he brought the cord around your neck, and clicked the clasp shut. After huffing (more out of stress-relief than frustration), he stood in front of you and eyed the necklace that rested beautifully against your collarbones. Then, a beaming, prideful smile creeped up his lips.

It fit perfectly.

blue dividers by: firefly-graphics

[shanastoryteller]

happy birthmonth!!!! I've actually never played hades but im obsessed w ur zagreus prompt answers.

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

Achilles hangs his head in his hands. Patroclus's hand on his knee is pretty much the only thing preventing him from going after Zagreus spear first.

Not that it would do him much good. Even before this, before knowing this, Zagreus has been winning against his father for decades. There are rumors of Hades throwing those fights. Achilles can only assume that those rumors are spread by spirits who have never met him.

"Don't you think you're being a little dramatic about this?" Zagreus complains.

He's so close. Achilles could get a few good hits in. It would at least make him feel better.

"He is rarely not dramatic when presented with the opportunity," Patroclus says, voice wry and almost warm and something Achilles never thought he'd hear again.

"Probably why he and Prince get along so well," Sisyphus says, offhand, and he hears what he assumes is Eurydice hitting him.

Zagreus makes the strangest friends.

"What were you thinking?" he demands, finally lifting his head.

Zagreus scrunches his nose and scratches the back of his head. Sun streams in through the windows of the large palace, everything bright and open and nothing the House.

How is there sun down here?

He's certain he hasn't said anything out loud, but Patroclus says, "Chaos created it after they lost a bet with Zagreus."

If anything, his headache gets worse. He can barely enjoy the fact that even after all the time apart, Patroclus knows him just as well. "Chaos is involved in this too?"

Chaos, who's sunk into the depths of the underworld and hasn't ventured out for anyone or anything. Not even when Persephone left. Not even for Nyx.

"They're around," Zagreus says vaguely. "You can use Darkness for a lot of things, you know? We fish together sometimes too. Well, I fish, and they watch me. I think they get bored."

"And you're certainly not boring," Sisyphus says. Eurydice doesn't hit him this time.

Achilles repeats, "What were you thinking?"

"Well," he says, then shrugs. "Why do people keep thinking I planned this? It just sort of happened. I wasn't really thinking."

That Achilles has no trouble believing.

[m0nsterqzzz]

Cat's Out of the Bag La Rue

pairing: Clarisse La Rue x reader

summary: Valentines Day rolls around, and what kind of girlfriend would Clarisse be if she didnt get you the only present you've been wanting?

a/n: i wrote like 5 fucking valentines day fics yesterday (one with natasha, one with wanda, one with clarisse, one with carol danvers, and one with katniss everdeen) yet this is the only one im posting and i kinda hate it. literally the shortest oneshot i've ever written. also, I'm literally a dog person writing about cats. what has life come to?

is this the worst thing i've ever written? yes. do i hate every other piece of written recently cuz im in writers block and haven't updated in like 3 weeks? also yes. im so done yall.

With a baseball cap covering her head, tucking her curls against her head and being the best disguise she could come up with, Clarisse’s eyes dart all around the cab. It zooms through the streets of New York, making the child of Are’s slightly concerned for her and her siblings safety as they get honked out. The man driving seems like he’s barely paying attention to the road, but in the end it doesn’t really matter as long as they get to their destination. 

There are three children in the yellow car; Clarisse, her half brother Mark, and her half sister Ruby. They were the only ones who she could convince to come with her to town, past the safe bounds of camp half blood where nothing but their weapons can stop monsters from hunting and hurting them.

It’d be a lie to say Clarisse isn’t nervous, but she pushes the feeling down as she grips her spear tighter in her left hand. 

This is for you. She’s going into town and risking getting in trouble for the end result of seeing her favorite smile. Your smile. Her partner of one year. It may not seem like a very long time to some people, but you guys are demigods. It’s surprising you made it through the year without being killed by some horrible, ugly monster.

The car stops and the guy counts the large amount of money Mark hands him before telling them to get out of his cab. It may have annoyed the teenagers on any other day, but it doesn’t bother them too much since today is a special day.

“Why are we here?” Ruby asks, eyes scanning the area around them as if sure something is going to jump out at them. In the blonde haired girl's defense, it’s very possible something will.

Clarisse gestures to the small building in front of them. It’s run down and in desperate need of a paint job, but it doesn’t matter. That’s not what grabs the child of Ares attention. It’s the small animals chilling in their little spots inside the store. That���s what she’s here for.

The sign above the small colorful store reads, “Mike’s Animals”. Boring name, but gets the point across. She can already see the little animal she came here for when they walk through the door, the loud bell ringing from the action of opening it but no employee comes to help them. Clarisse lets her siblings stare in awe at the other animals for a few months before shoving towards a section near the back. The kitten section. You had been showing her a website on your phone a few days ago, one with a different selection of the small animals. The website was for Mike’s Animals, but you explained that even though you’d really like a cat, pets aren’t allowed in Camp Half Blood. It’s a rule.

Well you wanna know what Clarisse says about that? Screw rules. What her person want’s, her person gets.

So if the police ever come around, asking you why Clarisse shoved a black and white kitten into her brother's coat pocket and then made a run for it while the store manager chased after them, that’s what you have to say.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

You're laying on your bed reading a book when your girlfriend walks in, a large box covered by a piece of fabric under one arm and a bouquet of flowers in her free hand. She ignores your siblings' gazes as she walks towards your space, setting down the box with a type of gentleness nobody in camp but you gets to see and then holding out the flowers.

They’re your favorite, clearly straight out of the flower fields by the slight glow they give off. They’re wrapped in a brown type of paper with a pink bow clearly down by one of the Aphrodite kids to hold it all together.

“Hey my love.” She starts. “These are for you.” You take the plants with a large grin on your face, bringing them closer to your face to smell the amazing natural scent coming from them. Something moves inside the box she sat on your bed, making you hold in a scream as you jump closer to your girlfriend and farther away from it. “What the hell is moving in that Clarisse?!” You ask, your siblings' attention all over you guys now.

Clarisse just laughs, but she seems slightly nervous as she puts the crate in your lap. “Just look. I hope you like it.” She continues to nervously ramble as you remove the cloth from the top of the box, letting out a small gasp when you see the small animal looking back at you with wide, curious blue eyes.

Your girlfriend stares as you gently pick him up, him instantly curling into your hold with a soft pur as you hold him close to your chest. “You um…you like him?” She asks with a small smile.

“Of course I do! He’s adorable, Risse!” She lets out a relieved sigh, laying down next to you as your siblings surround the bed trying to get a look at the animal. “You know Chiron will never let you keep that right?” One of your brothers asks with a laugh, and you frown as you look at your girlfriend.

She thinks about it for a moment before she says, “We’ll just hide him. He can lounge around the cabin while you’re gone, and you guys can hide him somewhere during cabin checks. Chiron will never know.”

Your siblings eventually leave you alone, going back to their acticicus as your two favorite beings cuddle up to you. Clarisse cuddles up next to your side, and the kitten on your stomach. “I really like you Oreo.” you whisper to the animal, making your girlfriend laugh. “Oreo? That’s the most original thing you could think of right?”

“Okay if you're so great at naming things, what should we name him?”

She goes quiet for a few seconds before mumbling in defeat, “I like Oreo.”

You guys enjoy the silence that surrounds just you guys as you pet Oreo, but then a small laugh comes from you when Clarisse gently grabs the cat and pulls him off your chest so she can lay her head there. “He’s been here for half an hour and you're already jealous?” “He was getting way too touchy. Mine.” She teases and then fakes an annoyed groan when he crawls onto her back and lays down, stretching himself out just to prove a point.

“Will you be my Valentine, my love?” She asks as she places her chin on your chest to look up at you. There's a certain softness in her eyes that you and only you get to see. In fact, it’s very, very rare you ever see the side everyone else talks about when they talk about Clarisse towards you. “You guys just don’t know her like I do.” You tell them. Not like they believe you, half of the camp still believing you somehow put a spell on her.

“Only if you’ll be mine.” You whisper back as if it’s a secret.

“Oh…this is awkward. I already agreed to be like ten other girls date.” Her voice is teasing as she tries and fails not to giggle.

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Hm.” You fake being offended as you cross your arms over your chest and look away. She laughs, and the sound practically forces a smile on your face.

“I’m kidding. Only you, angel. I’m yours. Always.” 

“And I’m yours, Clarisse La Rue.” 

“Always?” 

“And forever.”

There’s a knock on your cabin door, and you figure it’s another camper until a voice calls from the other side of the door, “Clarisse? I know you're in there. Your siblings told me where you went. Cat’s out of the bag La Rue.” Chiron says. Very terrible choice of words. She groans into your stomach, rolling off of you and successfully getting Oreo to jump off her back and onto the bed.

“Those little snitches.” She snarls as she gets up to open the door, making you instantly miss her warmth.

You place the cat under your sweater, giggling and then shoving his face back under when he crawls to put his head through the neck hole. Once she knows he’s covered, Clarisse opens the door. Chirons eyes fall to you, and it’s only then do you think about the fact that there is a giant Oreo shaped lump in your sweater.

All your siblings fall silent as they watch to see what’s gonna happen.

“Mac and cheese day am I right?” You try to joke with a nervous chuckle, but he doesn’t laugh. He just runs a hand over his face and then stares at you. “You know what? I don’t care. You find a way to feed him that isn’t taking resources from us, you make sure he doesn’t do any damage to the furniture, and you keep track of him at all times, you can keep him.”

You grin at him, letting the small animal out of your sweater who in turn lowly hisses at the sight of Chiron.

He groans, walking off as he mumbles something about needing a very long vacation. There's only so much of your girlfriend bending the rules to get you presents he can handle before he was bound to just accept it.

The cinatar leaves, your girlfriend flipping him off when he can’t see. He yells over his shoulder, “I know what you’re doing Clarisse! Stop it or no dessert!” 

She stops flipping him off. Next to you, chocolate cake is what she lives for.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

That night, as you sit with Clarisse at the bonfire, she listens to you complain about how much you miss Oreo. Usually, you’d be too busy roasting marshmallows and cuddling with her to think about anything else, but your girlfriend doesn’t do anything other than smile, happy she made you so happy.

“So how’d you get him anyway? You don’t have that kind of money and there’s no way Chiron gave it to you.” You say, and she freezes in her spot on a log, slightly tightening her arms that are wrapped around your waist as she avoids your eyes.

“I stole him.” Her voice is slightly quieter than usual, and she says this in the most casual tone she can muster.

“CLARISSE LA RUE!”

[skxllz]

Hi! IDK IF YOUR TAKING REQUESTS BUT IM GONNA SEND ONE ANYWAY AND YOU DONT HAVE TO DO IT IF YOU ARENT TAKING REQUESTS

Can you do Lucifer, Alastor and whoever else you wanna add with a reader who just swallows/eats anything/weird things?

A piece of tissue? Sure! Plastic? Yippee! A pebble? Why not! Keys? Yummy! A rubber duck? Quack quack! A piece of Alastors cane? Don’t kill me!!

I'm not currently taking requests but I'll do this for you hon <3 I apologize if it doesn't live up to your expectations!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 & 𝐯𝐨𝐱 𝐟𝐭...

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

🐤 - 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚛

➳ when you two first started dating - scratch that, first started talking, he picked up on the fact that you had random quirks. bored? you'd make random noises. sometimes, you'd lay on the floor just to lay there. for no reason, you'd hang upside down on the couches in the foyer. —he once questioned you and you said, I quote, “ I want to feel the blood rush to my head, it's fun. ”— to say the least, you puzzled him, but he brushed it off because who wasn't an oddball in hell?

➳ now, when you actually started dating and you got more comfortable is when he noticed some of his rubber ducks missing - and not just the ducks, but rather some of the things he used on them as well. glue, for example.

➳ “ hey, um, sweetie? ” he approached you one day, quite confused from where his things were suddenly disappearing to. you hummed in reply, looking up from your phone. lucifer blinked at you slowly, trying to come up with a way to word his sentence without seeming like he was accusing you of anything. “ have you seen my glue? the kind I use for- ” — “ no. ” you had answered too quickly for his liking.

➳ as the days carried on, more of his shit would vanish. it got to the point where it'd frustrate him. it wasn't until one day, where his latest creation knocked off of his desk and rolled under it, did he find one of the ducks he had been looking for. except... it had a bite mark taken out of it...

➳ lucifer was dubbed shocked. his eyes widened, lips pulled down in a duck-lipped press. what in the seven rings of hell? he's never seen anything like this, and he doesn't own a hell hound, so who-

➳ and then his mind drifted to you.

➳ he recalled your weird behaviour; the way you were sweating nervously and avoiding eye contact. he should've known you had something to do with it.

➳ but to eat his rubber ducks? he's going to have a serious talk with you about your diet.

+++

📻 - 𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛

➳ this radio demon didn't really show interest in you at first. you seemed innocent - too innocent, but still innocent, and that just didn't catch his attention in the slightest. if anything, you seemed bothersome.

➳ I'd like to think he first took interest in you when vaggie found a corner of the end of her spear broken off. no one dared touched it before, and you were new to the hotel - it didn't take a genius to put two and two together. but I guess, in a sense, no one else suspected you since you never bothered anything else.

➳ one night, when almost everyone was asleep, you snuck off to the kitchen to find something to eat. you were starving since you hadn't had dinner and couldn't really bother to just fall asleep on an empty stomach. a certain radio demon had followed you, startling you out of your wits as you turned around only to spot him there. “ funny to see you awake, dear! ”

➳ you explained to him, nervously, that you couldn't sleep. he hummed, pretending to show he was listening, before skipping right to the point of why exactly he was there. “ I couldn't help but realize that, earlier today when our dearest vaggie was rather upset, you hadn't moved an inch from your spot on the sofa. in fact, you seemed almost... ” he paused, pretending to ponder, his smile widening. “ guilty. care to explain the reasoning for that, hm? ”

➳ at that point, you were avoiding eye contact. hands twined behind your back, thumbs twiddling out of anxiousness, you searched for an excuse through your jumbled brain, attempting to think of absolutely anything just to slip away from alastor. but knowing him, he'd probably see right through the charade - he's been around way longer than you, and is a mastermind at getting into people's heads. no doubt he'd figure out you fibbed. — “ I just felt guilty that I couldn't help at all. vaggie is a close friend, I hate to see her upset. ”

➳ instead of buying the lie, like you had predicted, the bob-wearing demon leaned down and gave you a close-lipped grin; half lidded eyes flashing dangerously beneath the light that gleamed from atop the stove. “ or is it because, perhaps, you had something to do with it? ”

➳ that's when you blurted out. “ I ate it. ” and, much too afraid to gouge alastor's reaction, you turned and took off running out of the kitchen.

➳ if you would've stayed, however, you would've seen the way alastor's eyes momentarily widened. he was.. shocked, to say the least. he didn't think he had heard you right at first, but he knew for certain his ears didn't deceive him.

➳ with his narrowed eyes now staring after your figure, he straightened his posture, folding his hands behind his back and humming to himself. “ interesting creature, they are... ”

➳ you have now caught his attention. expect more interactions with the infamous deer!

+++

📺 - 𝚟𝚘𝚡

➳ picture this; you're one of velvette's models. you're dating vox, her business partner. they're both aware of how weird you can be, and yet, they both seem to favorite you - hell, even val (but let's face it, he just wants you for your body, which isn't going to happen).

➳ you're in the middle of getting your hair prepped and straightened when you had the sudden urge to just chew. it always came on randomly, but most of the time when you were bored. sitting in a chair, with sprits blasting into your face and hair utensils tugging in your hair, and hell forbid you weren't allowed to move- it was not exactly fun. so you started to eye the new collection of makeup sponges that were just set upon your personal vanity.

➳ they looked squishy, flimsy, chewable... oh so tempting. so while rachelle, your hairstylist, was busy talking her head off, too busy to notice you stretching your arm forward, you snatched one up.

➳ velvette came strutting down the midst of the aisle with a firm hand on her hip and a ripple in the center of her brow, shouting at many of the other stylists on what to do, what not to do - what looked better on her models, what looked cheap. she could not afford to have her best women looking as if they escaped the hands of a hellhound, it just wouldn't do. but that's when she turned, pointing a demanding finger at rachelle to amp up the heat on your straightener because the ends of your hair were curling up. that's also when she noticed you not only chewing on the newly bought sponge, but eating it.

➳ “ oh for fuck sake! ” the dark-skinned demon spewed, catching your attention and making you freeze. velvette reached an arm forward, only to wrap her digits around what was left of the sponge and rip it from your grasp. your chair turned on cue, showing you sheepishly smiling at the fuming female. “ I told you not to stuff your damn mouth full of random shit! especially my new makeup equipment — ” she turned away, stomping her healed foot to the ground. “ fuck! ”

➳ it wasn't long before vox had arrived before the demoness due to her calling him and shouting profanities over the phone. you were left to sit in the chair, huffing nonsense under your breath, while rachelle finished with your hair in silence.

➳ when the overlord made his presence known, rachelle excused herself — and thankfully she had finished your hair. “ y/n, dear.. ” vox smoothly spoke, for once not sounding like an overly cocky twat. it's usually only in the presence of others, but given that not many people were around, he dialed a softer tone with you.

➳ “ I didn't do anything, ” you rolled your eyes, looking away with a puffed out frown. yes, you were spoiled, but who wouldn't be, dating the owner and inventor of voxtech?

➳ vox sharply looked down at you, eyeing you with a sense of irritance —for angering velvette— but fondness —because you're his—. “ don't be like that. how many times have we talked about eating random things, hm? ”

➳ “ ... about- fifty nine? I lost count. ”

➳ “ around there. ” the tv demon moved, placing his hands on the back of the swivel chair you sat upon, while now holding eye contact with you through the mirror to your vanity. “ and what have we talked about, sweetheart? ”

➳ you were silent at first. staring him down, eyes hooded and ghosted over with annoyance. it was irritating how he was speaking to you like a child. “ well? ” vox impatiently, patiently, questioned; his claws dragging along the back of the chair, only to glide over your nape. closing your eyes out of bliss from the movement, you sighed. “ don't eat random things because they're bad for me... ”

➳ “ exactly. ” vox mischievously smiled down to you, squeezing the back of your neck gently. “ now, don't you think you owe velvette an apology? ”

➳ as you nod your head, vox releases his grip on you, letting your hair fall back down against your skin. “ good. come now, we have to get that out of the way; I have things to discuss with you. ”

➳ your discussion ended pretty well :).