#obligatory he's not fat he's fluffy

[shopcat]

does anyone know why

[thelegendarygoose]

Let me take care of you. Ar'alani xF!reader

Ar'alani is stressed, so you order a night in. Reverse dom!Ar'alani sub!reader who doms so she can look after her lover and partner.

Obligatory warnings: My blog is 18+ and most of my works too. Sub! Dom! dynamic. Girl on girl mostly oral. Food involved and alcohol.

This was meant for kinktober. But instead you get it for Thanksgiving. Please enjoy it. XD

Ar'alani has been busy with the Grysk and politics that come with war. But that didn't mean either of you didn't find hidden moments to spend evenings or even nights together.

So when Ar'alani sent you word that she would be staying the night while on world, you were struck with an idea.

So out you went, ordering her favorite foods of a cheese and meat board, with sides of her absolutely adored crispy vegetables, both fried and deep fried for variety with her more favored sauces.

You bought flowers and candles scented caramal. Not long after you light them their scent fills your apartment.

Before setting the dinner table with your chosen dishes, you went and changed choosing black strappy lingerie and your fluffy dressing gown.

Once pleased with your presentation, you laid your trap. Tonight, you would dominate your absolutely amazing and stunning tactician of a Chiss Admiral.

Ar'alani returned to your shared apartment she merely raised an eyebrow when she took in your approaching form.

"You're plotting." You can hear the pleased smile in her voice as you reach within grabbing distance letting yourself be pulled into a firm embrace.

"I don't think you mind this plot of mine visahot." You answer, kissing her plush lips, which brings a smile to them.

"No I do not." She whispers pulling you in for a hungry devouring kiss. You pull away for a moment.

"Let me tonight. You do so much and I want you to relax."

Ar'alani let's you lead her to the set up living room and sighs at the sight of her favorites all laid out.

She sits and lets you feed her after taking her outer uniform off. But even then, neither of you can keep your hands off each other.

You straddle he string powerful thighs grinding slightly as you pull and knead at her breath and gasp between kisses.

Ar'alani is in a similar shape, hands not resting she pulls your dressing gown away, and her expression darkens at the sight of your choice of lingerie.

"All this for me ch'acah?" I truly am spoilt." And like that the rest is off. You both trace eachother feeling the soft skin.

Chiss have thicker skin but it is still soft. While you, the admirals human was soft skin with surprising muscle. But Ar'alani was still gentle even when she was in bed.

At last, you settle on the ground between her knees, eyeing the slit that hid your prize from view.

Leaning forwards with the flat of your tongue you lick a fat stripe up it and back letting the blushing folds open to trails your tongue through and around them. Even pressing your mouth flat to suck greedily enjoying the juices that gathered.

Chiss sex was wet, sloppy, and slow, and you loved it. Loved being covered in your lovers juices. And she similarly loved watching you work so hard to please her. Carding long slender blue fingers through your hair, tugging on occasion.

You bring a finger to her folds and trace teasing what you know you can, gathering some of her juices before bringing it down to touch yourself as you begin working to both of your finishes.

And when she comes repeatedly on your face leaving it soaked and look up to see her blessed expression. You know your mission was successful.

You run a bath, share it together, and spend the rest of the night cuddled together, exchanging stories and eating the forgotten food.

Taglist: @thrawns-babygirl @al-astakbar @khapikat222 @twilekchiss

[emmettsmantiddies]

Hello!!!Can you please tell me about your cats-🐺

Hello Wolf Pal (Every time I see that emoji I think “it’s a wolf thing” lol)

So I have 4 cats! 3 of them are siblings (Junie, Pepper, Wrigley) and one is my baby (Wilbur)

And this turned out super duper long, so below the cut it shall be! (open at ur own risk I’m not kidding it’s long)

Junie is the leader. When we met the three siblings (we call them the babies because when we adopted them we had a senior cat, he has since passed but we still call them that, confusing, I know) she was the first one out. My dad and I were insistent that we get her, my mom and sister wanted the two fluffies. My dad said “get three of them” and we did. Junie is, like most female cats, not the most friendly with everybody. Don’t get me wrong, she’s sweet, but she’s only really bonded to me and my mom, and she only bonded with my mom after I left for college. She likes to play with small plush toys--she’s stolen little milk carton plushies and dumpling plushies from me before. They are now hers. She’s also known for being weird. She scratches around her food when she’s done or if she wants to come back to it later; cats do this in the wild to protect their food. She also tends to clean her brothers--and Wilbur too, on occasion. Her full name is Juniper, but we rarely call her that. Her other nicknames are June, Junebug, BugBug, Buggy, Booba, and Boob (I started calling her Booba for no good reason and it got shortened to Boob lol). She’s a good girl, but a little odd.

Pepper is probably best described as a himbo. He’s very puffy (although to the untrained eye he and Wrigley are practically indistinguishable), and he’s slightly browner than Wrigley and has a longer face and more distinguished nose. He also looks like he’s wearing harem pants. Pepper likes to give love bites. They do not feel like love bites; they hurt. He will try to give you an eyebrow piercing if given the opportunity. Pepper likes to play with balls with bells in them, he also likes strings. Pepper was originally Wrigley because we thought Wrigley was a girl. But, since Pepper was darker at the time, we switched Wrigley to Pepper and Lily to Wrigley (confusing, right?). Pepper is my mom’s cat; although, he’ll settle for me on occasion. He’s very complacent and just loves to sit with my mom and sleep with her at night. He will sometimes “scarf her,” that is, he’ll lay across her neck like a scarf. He likes to watch water coming out of faucets--I say he’s a himbo because he gets surprised by the water every. Darn. Time. He’s the largest in terms of puff, but actually weighs the least. His nicknames include PingPing (I’m not sure where this nickname came from), Pepperoni, and the most notorious nickname he has is PP. I gave him that one, but hear me out! Pepper has two P’s right next to each other in the middle, right? So PP stands for those 2 P’s. 

Wrigley is a grumpy old man trapped in a fat kitty’s body. Wrigley is built like he swallowed a cylinder--a cylinder of fat. He’s stocky, his hair is more gray, and he looks like a frilled lizard in cat form. He has a big belly, but only like the lower half--he has a practically hairless section (it’s always been like this, he’s fine) that’s very pink, and so aptly named (by yours truly) “the pink part.” When he grooms that area, it’s known as “pink part maintenance.” Wrigley is the best at standing on two feet--he looks like a meerkat when he does. He also has a grudge/vendetta/hatred towards my older sister. She left for college when the babies were less than a year old, and when she came back after a while, she brought her cat that she adopted, Salem (also known as Pookie). Salem and (really all of the babies) Wrigley did not get along, and Wrigley started to associate my sister with Pookie and ever since has had a... not so friendly relationship with her. He growls at her, hisses (he has a pathetic hiss, it comes out in spurts), but then he’ll also act like he wants her to pet him. He will also chase people for fun and bite their ankles when they stop (he doesn’t mean any harm when he does this). Wrigley is finnicky. He doesn’t always like to be picked up and will growl/grumble when someone does. But he’s also needy, he will come and demand attention by trying to suffocate me and lay on my chest. He became friends with Wilbur early on--it surprised everyone because of how grumpy he is, we expected he’d hate Wilbur the most, but that title goes to Pepper. Wrigley doesn’t play very often--he’s a watcher. But he likes hairties and milk caps. He’s an odd little guy. His nicknames include Wriggy, Ricky (my sister’s friend misheard us call him Wriggy and now he’s stuck with that name), Richard, Reginald, Rigatoni, Wriggle Piggle, and Rinchy.

Wilbur is my baby. He is actually an ordained minister an emotional support animal. I got permission to bring him with me to college last year, although I adopted him earlier in the summer. He was the runt of the litter and now he’s huge. He doesn’t look like it because he’s muscular, but he’s a whopping 14 pounds! He’s built like a greyhound with a tiny head and lean body. His tail is crazy long and when he runs around the tip of it flops in the air in what I like to call “the flagella tail.” His nose freckle has grown with his nose over time, and my parents (especially my mom) actually didn’t want me to adopt him because of it!! I’m glad I didn’t listen. Wilbur is a momma’s boy, and the only one I will accept in this household. He loves to cuddle me (doesn’t cuddle anyone else), he loves kisses (will seek them out), and he nurses on me. He’s done this since he was a baby, partially because we got him too early (they thought he was 8 weeks, he was six) and it makes him happy and secure. He’s an absolute menace--if he can get into something, he will. We had to put child locks on our drawers in our dorm because Wilbur could open them and would get into everything. He likes paper a lot, so any paper lying around is forfeit to him. He rides on my walker, scooter, and stairlift, and he likes to be near me when I shower. I used to use a shower/bath combo, and he’d sit on the ledge of the tub between two curtains, but now he lays outside the shower. He runs around and chirps a lot, chasing bugs and other things. He also likes straws and will play fetch. He also likes squinkies--those old pencil toppers that came in cute shapes. Junie likes them too. Wilbur is also known to be a thief, he’s stolen my little baggies of gems for diamond paintings and run off with them, determination in his gaze. He’s quite clever and sly, which makes my life very difficult sometimes lol. He runs like a bulldog, with a barrel-like chest, and he has been my rock ever since I got him, as I was dealing with health issues and life issues. I wouldn’t trade him for the world (this extends to the babies as well, but I really feel like I’m Wilbur’s mom). I also call him little man, Wibble, Wilby, Wibby, Wibs, Wilbs, Snoot (there’s a story to this nickname), and one of my faves is Wibby P. Butts, Esquire (no clue where it came from honestly).

Sorry for rambling, but I love my babies! Obligatory pictures below, they’ll be in the same order as I wrote about them:)

[lilithroseofthevalley]

Chapter 1: Amnesiac Demon

Her feet were bare and caked in mud. The twilight was upon her as she etched a path through the woods. Her name was Anaxandra and she was a demon.  The darkness she didn’t mind, at least she thought she didn’t mind it. She wasn’t yet sure what she did mind. There was a nip at her skin through her thin white shift. Memory was a complete white out from before she woke up in the cold mud. An empty and lightless house lay behind her. All she knew was she needed to head away from it.

           She emerged through the pine needles and before her stood a street. She watched as the lights in tall posts flickered on. It seemed…magical to her. Was that the right word? She walked several yards before reaching the sidewalk. Lights in the houses started shining out of the windows. Lights in shops were doused out. The street was bare of people momentarily. She heard a whooshing sound and in the distance saw flying lights all running in a row. How strange, she thought.

           She walked on, leaving muddy foot prints on the sidewalk. Had anyone seen her they surely would have stopped her. Or maybe they would have simply made a mental note to avoid the crazy girl in her nightgown.

           She came upon a wooden sign and its carvings seemed to indicate something important to her. “Aris’s Boarding House.” She read to herself.  She wrapped her arms around herself to abate the chill. Her black hair draped over her arms and helped to keep some warmth in. Anaxandra was compelled to knock.    

A short fat woman opened the door. Anaxandra wasn’t very tall but she had to look down slightly at the woman. In her memory she only ever recalled looking up at people. There was something disconcerting about looking down at an adult. As she thought about this disconcertment she realized her memory was starting to fill in.

           “Look at you!” The woman said. Her brown hair was piled on her head with strands spilling down. “What trouble have you got yourself in?”

           Anaxandra shook her head.

           “No? Not sure what that means. But come in,” She put her hand behind Anaxandra’s back to usher her through the threshold.  “Keep those filthy feet on the rug and stay right there.” Aris said. Immediately the warmth took to her skin. Aris closed the door behind her and disappeared into another room.

           Demon.

           The word echoed in Anaxandra’s head. She knew she was a demon. Aris was not a demon. She wasn’t sure how she knew the difference but she did. Aris appeared a moment later with a bucket full of soapy water.

           “Sit in that chair right behind you.” She said.

           Anaxandra turned at her waist and spotted a chair with a stiff, wooden back sitting nearly flush against the wall. She sat in it without having to move her feet. Aris kneeled down with the bucket of water. She waited.

           “Well…stick your piggies in there. No use in pussyfooting about.” Aris said.

           Anaxandra placed her feet into the hot water. The shock of the hot water on her nearly numb feet made her feel like the flesh would melt from the bone. She became more aware of how cold she was everywhere else on her body.

           “Let ‘em sit there a minute.” Aris huffed herself up off the ground, her round bits giving her trouble. She went through a doorway and shortly appeared again holding a throw. She placed it around Anaxandra’s shoulders. The soft knit was comforting and the long fringe hung loose from her.

           Dad.

           Anaxandra was struck with the image of her dad disappearing in a flash of light. He was a demon too.

           Aris pulled Anaxandra’s feet from the bucket and dried them on a dry and fluffy towel. She pulled white socks on them.

           “I don’t, for the life of me, know how you got in the state you’re in.” Aris said. “Get up, follow me.” Aris walked through the doorway and Anaxandra followed her. “You’ve got your ways and that’s fine. I can give you a room here as long as you need.”

           “I don’t….” Anaxandra’s voice was hoarse and somewhat foreign to her. She was attempting to formulate the words that accompanied the thought.

Aris stopped and turned to look at Anaxandra. “You don’t what?” She asked.

“…have money.” Anaxandra finally said. Her mind eventually supplied the words to the idea, the feeling that told her a boarding house is for those that pay.

“Can you work? Cook food? Clean rooms?”

           Anaxandra nodded.

           “Well, when you get your bearings about you I’ll let you help me out a little. I could use an assistant from time to time.”

           And Anaxandra realized this payment was an obligatory barter because Aris was noncommittal about the work yet not about the room.

                                                                       ***

           Anaxandra lay in a twin bed with a metal frame. It was up against the wall with a window looking out onto a busy world. The wall paper was beige with little pink flowers. Aris gave Anaxandra a clean and warm night gown to wear. Atop the dresser was a large oval mirror. Before bed Anaxandra stood in front of it looking at herself. Assessing what was familiar. Long wavy black hair, eyes so dark they were almost black, fair skin with some freckles on her cheeks, soft pink lips. Age? Twenty? No, she was much older than that but her face didn’t reveal it.

           While she lay on the bed she wondered where her dad went. She recalled she needed to ask him something so she walked into his study. But now she couldn’t remember the question. It seemed inconsequential to her now. The light burned bright. It was white and hummed. “Stay there” her father called to her, holding his hand out. He walked into the light. The force of the blowback knocked Anaxandra over the banister onto the dining room table on the lower level. In a delirium she walked out of the house and fell into the cold mud. A minute later, or an hour later she stood up.

           Two hundred years old.

           Her age. She was remembering some things now but not everything. She closed her eyes and weary and warm, slept.