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#interspecial
quock-ko · 9 months
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June 23 2011. When the afternoon came, pigeon and chicken already behaved more freely. The pidge even started to copy the chick's manner of walking: raising the leg quite high and for a moment clenching the toes before lowering the leg for the next step. It was funny to see a pigeon walking in such a chooky way.
The chick also teached her other, very useful skill: an ability to peck the seeds fast. Before that, the pidge's eating skills was clumsier.
There were some crowing coos and angry beak swings, but only a couple of times. I've decided to bring the chick back to my aunt next day, but maybe they would befriend each other more, if the chick would stay a bit longer.
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nemfrog · 10 months
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A tiger for a bed. The sandman's forest. 1918.
Internet Archive
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wistfulwatcher · 5 months
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As for myself, I gave birth to a healthy baby girl. The creature spared our lives, and in return I honored her with my absolute silence. Some things, no matter how magnificent they are, are best left alone. And as to whether I'd ever see her again, the answer is yes. But that's another story.
LILY & THE MERMAID in SHE CREATURE (2001)
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killingdoll · 7 months
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I made a meme 😂
Happily excluding Lenore/Hector bc that relationship—if it qualifies as a relationship at all—is toxic from the very beginning
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lofan · 2 months
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Sci-fi shows + tenderly holding your lover's hand in medbay
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fatehbaz · 7 months
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[E]very [interspecies] meeting in fact reminds us that the being we meet is and always shall be strange to us […]. When beings meet there is a distance between, such that in encountering the slug we also encounter something beyond the slug – a multitude of life we cannot sense. [...] So despite shared histories and the close proximity in which slugs and [humans] live, the slug retains a certain darkness as a creature apart; something is held in reserve […]. And so fleeting awareness of the irretrievability of the lives of others intensifies poignancy, such that despite a gulf separating the [human] from other creatures, some connection, however fleeting, is made to something – however strange. Refusing to dismiss the everyday and the banal is an ethical response. […] Slugs are there: sliming, chomping, and oozing around quietly and that should be enough to give them consideration.
[Text by: Franklin Ginn. “Sticky lives: Slugs, detachment and more-than-human ethics in the garden.” Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers, Volume 39, Issue 4. 2013. Bold emphasis added by me.]
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So, can an insect speak? And if yes, do we understand it? Wittgenstein maintained that ‘if a lion could speak we would not understand him’, by which he implied that we do not share the ‘form of lion-life’ that would make lion language fully transparent to us […]. A similar insight was [...] expressed by [...] [a twentieth-century] honeybee researcher [...]: Beyond the appreciable facts of their life we know but little of the bees. And the closer our acquaintance becomes, the nearer is our ignorance brought to us of the depths of their real existence. But such ignorance is better than the other kind, which is unconscious and satisfied.
[Text by: Eileen Crist. “Can an Insect Speak?: The Case of the Honeybee Dance Language.” Social Studies of Science, Volume 34, Issue 1. 2004. Bold emphasis added.]
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Animal studies scholarship tends to emphasize animal-human relations, encounters, and similarities. […] Jellyfish and other gelatinous creatures [...], however, float at the far reaches of our ability to construct sturdy interspecies connections [...]. Uexkull’s theory […] insists upon multiple worlds […], a capacious admission that a multitude of other creatures dwell as part of worlds that humans cannot readily or completely access or grasp. Three-quarters of a century later Terry Tempest Williams wonders what it would be like to be a jellyfish. […] [She] writes: “Perhaps this is what moves me most about jellies – their sensory intelligence […] the great hunger that is sent outward through the feathery reach of their tentacles. Imagine the information sought and returned.”
[Text by: Stacy Alaimo. “Jellyfish Science, Jellyfish Aesthetics: Posthuman Reconfigurations of the Sensible”. In: Thinking with Water. 2013. Bold emphasis added.]
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Although we cannot ‘speak’ with nonhumans in any straightforward way, what we can and more importantly do do is become articulate with them in various ways. [...] If there is a way out of this historical impasse [alienation, climate crisis, global ecological degradation], [for some] it is not to be found in attributing some of ‘our’ qualities to ‘them’. It “would not be a matter of ‘giving speech back’ to animals […]. Perhaps the task is not to seek to compare the dance language of bees […] with human language, the ‘intelligence’ […] of Monarch butterflies with human intelligence, […] but rather (or at least in addition) to find a way of thinking about these ‘remarkable things’ that grants them positive ontological difference in their own right. […] [It] is concerned with what is always a multitude of others rather than a singular other […]; and it is radically nonanthropocentric […].
[Text by: Nick Bingham. “Bees, Butterflies, and Bacteria: Biotechnology and the Politics of Nonhuman Friendship.” Environment and Planning A: Economy and Space, Volume 38, Issue 3. 2006. Bold emphasis added.]
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Starfish may seem to be still, but longer attention [...] shows them [slowly] moving, changing. [...] Then there are beings [like some insects] that experience hundreds, thousands of generations within a human lifetime. For such beings, the memories, learnings and modes of passing on experience are, it almost goes without saying (yet it must be said as it is so often not), radically different from any human’s in terms of the ways they experience change. The immensity of the alterity is, literally, incomprehensible to humans. We can't know what these beings know. But we can be aware that they have knowledges and experiences beyond us. [...] [W]e should know they live and experience and think beyond us. We should seek respect and be aware of how our lives are entangled […]. It is not abstract, or empty.
[Text by: Bawaka Country et al. “Gathering of the Clouds: Attending to Indigenous understandings of time and climate through songspirals.” Geoforum Volume 108. January 2020. Bold emphasis added.]
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You were in the living room when it happened.
Satan was leaning back against the arm of the sofa you were on, and you propped up your head on his knee which was conveniently right in your face as he buried his feet under you, providing a nice amount of warmth. You flicked your eyes across the page of a new novel you had been recommended as you read it aloud. It was nice. Just the two of you.
Until there were three. Asmo had practically floated in, his socked feet bouncing across the wooden floor as he ogled at his pocket mirror. He waved to Satan and kissed your cheek, opting to sit on your left with an arm hooked around your waist and his head rested on your shoulder. Okay, just the three of you. It was warmer this way, anyway.
Crunch
Crunch
……
Crunch—
Oh come on now.
You turned your head as much as Asmo would allow, to see the huge teddy bear that is Beel munching on some chips behind you. He gave one of his signature smiles and ruffled your hair before reaching his hands under your arms and lifting you up out of your comfortable position effortlessly, holding you up by your armpits. You would be disturbed if this wasn’t his chosen form of affection towards you. Unfortunately, this was normal. After Asmo’s protest and Satan’s grumbles at having cold feet, Beel climbed over the back of the couch and repositioned you to be sitting on his lap, his chin resting on your head as he glanced at the words in your book. Soon enough, the others regained their positions, although Satan had to either put his feet under Beel or uncomfortably rest them on his thighs, so he just opted to sit normally, a hand laid on your thigh, lightly squeezing every now and then when there was a suspenseful moment in the story. Great. Four of you. Well, at least Beel has comfy thighs.
You returned to reading, content with the amount of cuddles you were getting, although you did feel a bit less like a human and more like a stuffed animal this way. Suddenly, you heard the slapping of bare feet on the hard wood floor and a yawn. Oh shit. You glanced to your left, over Asmo’s head. A smaller demon with eye bags and purple-white hair stood with his arms crossed around his signature cow pillow. Belphie. He glided over to you, slouching the whole way. Surely his back must hurt, right? Either way, he was now climbing onto the couch and— of course. Right onto your lap. He nuzzled his head into your and Beel’s shoulders, letting his pillow fall to the ground in favor of getting closer to you. Now it was five.
A few moments, the loudness of a video game sounded. Levi. You heard a soft gasp and a small flash of light, undoubtedly him turning into his demon form at the sudden envy that his brothers’ got to cuddle puddle you and he didn’t. You heard some grumbling before he plopped down on Belphie’s discarded pillow, his face fell onto your thigh, and his tail wrapped around your leg. He commented on the happenings in your book as you read it, though he pretended not to care. ‘Normie activities’ he called it. Six. Lovely.
A soft humming filled the room before coming to an abrupt halt. Mammon. Surely he wouldn’t be content to sit across from you, right? He tried to push Satan over to no avail, as he just hissed at him and told him to ‘fuck off.’ Mammon scoffed and decided to climb up on the back of the couch and dangle his feet around Beel’s neck leaving his unsocked dogs right in your face. Thanks, Mammon. And with him, there were seven. You were just missing one brother, but you figured he was off doing some important work of some kind.
“Does anyone know where MC is? I have something to ask them—“ the signature deep voice rang through the room, before he paused and crossed his arms, pondering what in the hell is going on here. You took the opportunity to continue reading to your demons, hoping to attract Lucifer and keep your cuddle buddies from scattering. It worked, and he sat next to Satan, who ‘tsk’d’ in response. ‘It was only a trivial matter and it could wait’ he had said. Now the gauntlet was complete, and you were surrounded by seven demons who you’d attracted somehow. Good job, MC.
About twenty minutes later…
Knock
Knock
Knock
You inwardly sighed as you prepared for the worst. Your cuddle puddle stayed in its position though, so you assumed you had all come to the conclusion to sit and wait for it to go away.
…knock
Knock
Knock
Again, you continued reading and did nothing.
Click.
Goddamn it Mammon did you not lock the front door?!
“Hey, the door was open so I just decided to come in. I brought sandwiches—“ said the voice of a certain sorcerer. Solomon had welcomed himself in, and couldn’t help chuckle a little at the sight. You ignored him of course, as did the rest of your cuddle pile. Solomon weaseled himself next to Asmo, resting on the arm of the couch as Asmo put an arm around him, his head still nestled on your shoulder. Although no one took up Solomon’s offer of sandwiches. Seven demons, and two humans now.
Another twenty minutes or so passed, until you heard more footsteps enter the room. “Solomon, are you here? You left the front door open—“ a small gasp came from the direction of the voice, and a small yapping sound came from just below it. Something about being too close to MC? You weren’t sure. You don’t speak chihuahua, after all. Simeon sat down on the floor, leaning against the leg Levi had now let go of, his demon form having faded away a long time ago, with Luke in his lap. Luke crossed his arm in faux annoyance, but really he was happy to be included.
Soon enough, Diavolo caught wind of your harem’s whereabouts due to his butler’s eyes being everywhere. He merrily skipped into the room, Barbatos in tow and took a seat on an ottoman he had pulled up close to Lucifer. He attempted to lean his head on Lucifer’s shoulder, but he hadn’t allowed it. ‘Not in-front of MC’ he whispered, but you absolutely heard. Barbatos stood off to the side, opting to stand. Weird, but whatever floats your boat you guessed.
A while later, a load thumping of stomping feet disgraced your eardrums, Mephistopheles come to complain about something, no doubt. Damn he was annoying. Oh well. He crossed his arms and went on about something, attempting to drown your reading out. Mammon and Asmo simply glared at him, and it shut him up. Thank Diavolo. He decided to sit down on the floor in-front of Solomon, ‘to make sure you aren’t doing anything disgraceful in-front of the Demon Lord’ he said. Great. Ten demons, two humans, and two angels. What is it now, fourteen?
You continued to read until a pounding of running feet ran in behind you. Thirteen. She jumped up onto the back of the couch you sat on, occasionally kicking Solomon in the back. You didn’t know how exactly she found out about this, but she was here now. Hurray. Add a reaper to your harem of fifteen.
And last but not least, Raphael waltzed in, and opted to stand next to Mephisto. Even Barbatos had sat down by now, so surely he would crack and sit eventually. Right…?
A few hours later, with minimal interruptions, you had successfully finished reading your book. And on top of that, lulled a total of ten demons, three angels, a human, and a reaper to sleep with your subpar reading skills. You felt a sense of accomplishment, at least. Although Raph was still standing, which was mildly worrisome. You let your eyes slip shut, and eventually fell asleep.
You were destined to wake up sweaty and with a sore back, but it was worth it for the interspecies cuddle puddle.
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jackbeloved · 1 year
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Actual food and it’s even on a PLATE wow!
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plzfeedmebread · 1 year
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What Do I Tell My Friends Family?
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Word count: 5086
Pairing: HUMAN Miles Quaritch x Female NA'VI Reader Tags/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, rare pairing, possibly dark content, smut, adult themes, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, lust, older man x younger woman, under age reader (16), degradation, nsfw, dubious consent, dirty talk, orgasm, orgasm denial, foul language, choking, vaginal fucking
Author's Note: This came to me in a day dream. Listening to this song. Set in the same idea I have for Lie of Providence, where you're able to communicate with the spirit of Quaritch in a Dream. Though it's a bit different there. Won't be included in LoP. Have kept reader's appearance vague in some parts so imagine it as you will.
| 1 | <next chapter>
*by clicking keep reading you understood the contents there within*
You shouldn’t want this. You should not be feeling like this. Oh Great Mother, the shame is near unbearable. Yet you are powerless to stop yourself. You want him, this you know. He is a man. Not like the boys of the clan. Immature, stupid boys who know nothing. No, this is a man. You have no doubt he would treat you the way you deserve. Or perhaps, the ways in which you want to be treated.
It started as a childish crush; a flight of fancy. A silly little thing you were, developing feelings for a man you only see in a shared Dream. You enjoyed watching him flex those oh so strong arms, the expanding of that broad chest with each precious breath. Each movement deliberate, no energy wasted in the fluidity of his being. He was taller than you then.
But time passes and it brings with it changes you weren’t entirely expecting. Becoming taller than him at 17 was a given. You’re almost 7’5” now, and will surely keep growing till you’re at least your mother’s height. What you did not expect however, was the swell of your chest. The women of your tribe you notice, do not have such large breasts. They are small, extenuating their lithe form, the agile body of Huntresses. But here you stand, barely an adult, with tits bigger than your hands. Your hips are noticeably wider too.
As time made you older, so too did it make you bolder. You care not if his gaze meets yours as you shamelessly stare down at him when he trains. You openly watch him do any human ritual, especially when it involves him testing the limits of his physique. And you notice too, how his gaze lingers on you. His eyes travel up and down your form when he thinks you do not notice. You eat up the silent attention. You sure as shit weren’t getting it from the young boys of your tribe.
Sure, mother and father tried their best arranging future mates for you. But every meeting of the family, you seem to be the only one to notice the boys’ upturn sneer. To them, you were always a freak. Proportionally wrong. A half-breed.
Your friends tell you not to worry about it. Boys are stupid anyway and wouldn’t know a good thing even if Eywa herself was prostrated before them. Yet you can’t help the jealously that rips through your very blood when they speak of stolen kisses and secret rendezvous. They do not make tsaheylu, as that is sacred and meant for their future life mate, but that doesn’t stop them exploring their baser desires with equally eager boys. And as the days to weeks to months pass, the frustration of it all builds until you are bursting at the proverbial seams.
And when the dam finally breaks, so too does your rational thinking. You are sick of your feelings being rebuffed by these stupid, immature boys. And you are equally as sick of this bizarre dance you’ve entered with Quaritch. If his soul is going to share Dreams with you, and so blatantly eat you with his gaze, then by Eywa does he owes you some actual attention.
---
And so tonight you are going to put your plan into action. You adorn the least amount of beads and thread you possibly can, barely covering your nipples let alone the rest of your chest. You wear a loincloth with a thinner cut fabric in the back, it easily gets eaten into the swell of your ass. You’re sure Quaritch is going to like that, if his roaming eyes are anything to go by. The final touch are some pretty feathers in your hair which you let hang lose and un-braided. You take your ikran and fly somewhere else into the forest; you do not want to be disturbed this night and Eywa forbid your family asks about what you are wearing (or lack thereof).
You find somewhere suitable to lay your head for the night, the flattened top of a nearby tree. Your ikran makes themself comfortable elsewhere, far enough to give you privacy, but close enough to hear you call should you need them.
You sit on your haunches and take a big calming breath. You look up to clear sky. Eywa has blessed tonight with warm breezes and a dazzling display of stars. The forest is alight with bioluminescence and it brings you a sense of comfort. And with that, you lay yourself down and close your eyes.
---
The Dreamscape too, it would seem, has taken the shape of Night. As you have hoped, you are immediately in a Human settlement. You think it is perhaps Hell’s Gate, but something is different. You cannot tell, but it feels different. No matter. These are irrelevant details. You are here on a mission.
You let pure instinct guide you into and through a building. You are drawn to him and he to you. Finding him is never difficult. As you traverse the halls, you are thankful you do not have to bend as to not hit the ceiling, though were you fully grown it would probably be a problem. You immediately stop in front of a door. He’s in this room. You take a moment to steel your resolve. You do not want to back out now. Not when you’ve already come this far. You take a deep breath, then press button on the side.
---
Quaritch finds it strange. To know oneself is dead. To be a wondering soul, bound to The All Mother. To say he was surprised to learn she was indeed real, would be an unprecedented understatement. Yet she does not speak to him. But he can feel her influence wherever he wonders. Most surprising though, is You.
By Eywa’s grace, the two of you keep sharing Dream spaces. He’s sure you’re not dead though your spirit visits him often. And he’s also sure of one other thing; you must be sweet on him. Never in his waking life, and apparent afterlife, would he have foreseen something like this. A savage girl, the daughter of the traitor Jake Sully, developing a crush on him.
It was cute at first. When you were small. But you’re not a child anymore. And he has, to his disgust and pleasure, taken notice. He thinks of the way you tease him, swaying your hips with purpose when you jog ahead so as to walk in front of him. That damn tail flicking whichever way to draw his attention. When you puff out your chest when you show him how good you’ve become with bow and arrow. Oh yes, he’s sure you’re doing this shit on purpose. And you stare! You openly stare, and when he catches you, you don’t even try to hide it. The audacity of it all.
He’s not even sure if you’re considered an adult by your people’s standards. He never once cared to learn about the filthy natives’ culture. If he remembers correctly, you had mentioned to him last time he saw you that you were 16, coming on 17. You were complaining about some dumb teenage boy in your clan. Something or rather about not finding you attractive. He let you vent your frustrations by manifesting an appropriate sized gun turret in the shared Dreamscape for you.
You mounted the machine without hesitation, and shot at nothing in particular. Your frusted yells drowned out by the loud rhythmic expulsion of bullet rain. And while you had your cute little moment, he watched as your supple body jiggled and bounced oh so wonderfully.
It’s wrong, he knows it. To lust after such a young teenage girl. But you’re not exactly human.  
He rubs the back of his neck frustratedly; doesn’t even notice he’s manifested himself in his old quarters, a place of comfort.
---
He tries to clear his mind. Think of something, anything else. But it all comes back to you. Fuck you’re a God damn tease. A succubus sent by Eywa to torture him. God dangling a piece of Eden in front of him, just out of reach.
What he wouldn’t give to bury himself deep into that pretty little cunt of yours, a hand grabbing fistfuls of your hair as you cry out in pain and pleasure. He wants to leave pretty purple bruises up and down your skin. Mementos he hopes you carry out with you into the waking world. He wants every one of those pathetic teenage boys to know who you really belong to. Show them how a real man lays claim to what’s his. Typical savages having no fucking taste. There’s a tent in his pants now, and he’s about to reach in and relieve himself when the sound of the door sliding open catches his attention.
Speak of the Devil and so shall She appear.
When the door opens you stop yourself in the door way. There he is, standing in the centre of the room. He’s wearing that black singlet you love so much; the entirety of his arms are exposed as well as part of that divine broad chest. The giant window ceiling lets in the natural light of the night awash the room in gentle moonlight.
You’re blushing hard, you can feel the heat spread up from your neck and dust your cheeks. There is a gentle heat forming between your legs as you keep staring.
“Well hey there Sweetheart. Now aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes…” Quaritch is the first to break the silence. His eyes start from your face, and slowly he rakes it down to your loin cloth and back up to face; not before lingering on your chest you notice.
“Now you didn’t have to get all dressed up pretty for lil’ old me—or should I say, dressed down?” You smile shily, brushing some of your hair behind your ear. “Come closer darlin’, let me get a good look at’cha.” He’s smirks at you mischievously.
You obey without thinking and step into the room to stand before him, the door shuts behind you instantly with a quiet swoosh.
When you’re this close, the height difference is a bit more apparent. His head height is perfectly situated at your breasts.
He hums approvingly, then gestures behind him for you to take a seat on the bed. When you, he standing in front of you, arms crossed on his chest. You bite your lip noticing the bulge of his biceps, your tail flicks excitedly behind you. He chuckles when he notices.
“Now tell me, [Y/N]—” it takes a great deal of willpower to stop the whine threatening to escape your throat when he says your name in that delicious accent. You audibly inhale. “—what exactly is it, that you think you’re doing Sweetheart?”
You decide you to feign ignorance. It is far too embarrassing to simply come out and say it. You want him to say it; want him to be the one to admit it first. He wants you just as much as you want him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Colonel,” you see the slight tense in his arms when you address him by his title; ‘oh he definitely likes that’. You place your hands in your lap, lightly squeezing your breasts together with your arms. You see his eyes shift down to stare at your cleavage, you can feel your nipples teasing through the bare fabric. He licks his teeth and you inwardly shudder at the action.
“Oh ho, I think you do, you little fucking tease. Now what I’m wondering is, does your Dear ol’ Pa know you’re here? Presenting yourself in front of the enemy like that.” Quaritch bends forward so he’s eye level with you. “I wonder how disappointed he’d be right now. Guess his sweet little [Y/N] ain’t so innocent after all, huh?”
“I do not want to talk about my Father right now Quaritch,” you huff at him frustratedly. You don’t want to think about your family right now, that’d be a sure-fire way to kill the mood before it’s even begun.
“Oh? Then, what is is that you want to do, [Y/N]?”
“You know exactly why I’m here Quaritch…” you avert your eyes, too embarrassed to make extended eye contact. You don’t see him lean closer, moving to the side of your head to whisper directly into your ear.
“Come now you’re a big girl [Y/N]. Why don’t you use your big girl words? Be a good girl, and tell the Colonel what it is that you want?” You audibly whimper. He moves to the front of your face again, grabbing your chin in his hand, forcing your face forward.
“Now I’ll ask again—What is it that you want hm? What is your plan here?”
“Eyes on me baby,” your ears perk forward at the new moniker, eyes immediately fixed on him. Oh Great Mother this man is going to break you.  
“I—I—want…”
“SAY IT.”
“You! My plan! You were my p-plan! It is you that I want! Please Colonel!” You all but yell when he commands you. You squeeze your eyes shut, the shame and embarrassment too much after such a declaration.
You hear Quaritch hum approvingly and can practically hear the smirk in his voice.
“Well, aren’t you just sweet?”
His lips crash onto yours suddenly. Both of his hands are on either side of your head, holding you firmly in place. He doesn’t move at first, testing to see your reaction. When he feels you tilt slightly to one side and gently push up into him, he deepens the kiss. You’re a mess of teeth, saliva and tongue. Hot breath mingling in each other’s mouths. By Eywa does he taste divine. Better than anything you could have possibly imagined. Heat pools at the base of your belly. The tiny flicker of a flame come to life. You stupidly wonder if the boys of your clan are even a fraction as skilled as he.
“I can feel ya thinkin’ about something you shouldn’t be, naughty minx.” He says when he breaks away from you. He pushes your collar bone forcefully enough for you to fall back onto the bed with an oof. You lean up on your elbows to look at him at the foot of the bed, your legs planted firmly on the ground.
He uses his legs to kick apart your legs and stands in the space between.
“Let me clear that pretty little head of yours…”
He leans onto the bed, presses his right thigh firmly against your sex, his hands are on your hips holding you in place. A pleasured gasp escapes you, the sudden unexpected feeling of pleasure sparks from your core through your entire body.
Satisfied that you won’t move, you can feel him move his hands up the expanse of your body, thumbs pressing into you as he traces the stars painting your skin. Upward he travels till he reaches your chest. Your breasts are exposed to the open are, your meagre coverings having fallen wayside when he pushed you back before.
He delicately traces the glowing pattern of one breast, before he gives you a gentle squeeze.
“Hmmm~” you murmur at the feeling, warmth pooling at the precipice of your legs. He grabs you, one in each hand, and starts kneading you firmly. The rough callouses of his palm causing delicious friction upon your nipples. He feels them peak into his hands and squeezes you tighter.
You can’t help but moan. You’ve never been touched like this at all by anyone else. It feels nothing like when you do it yourself. No, this is so much better.
He swings his left leg over you, resting on your side, his right leg presses harder onto your cunt as he leans forward. He kisses you roughly, forcing his tongue into your mouth; immediately seeking you out to fight for dominance. You feel the slick of your cunt coat your loin cloth.
He breaks the kiss to plant kisses on the underside of your jaw. Slowly he starts licking the dots there, tracing down your neck, and he sucks hard on the flesh there, catching the skin between his teeth. At the same time he pinches both your nipples between his forefinger and thumb roughly.
“Fuck!” You exclaim loudly, the pleasure in your body starting to burn. Each nerve is set alight in pleasured brilliance. You body demands more friction, so you rub your greedy clothed pussy up and down his thick muscular thigh, drenching his pants leg in your juices.
“Aww is that all for me? Well ain’t you just a peach,” Quaritch teases you when he feels the wetness upon his leg. He looks down and inspects the darkening hicky on your neck. Satisfied with his work, and continues to leave more on either side of your neck. Not content yet, he starts leaving them along your collar bone. All the while you grace him with the sing-song of your voice, openingly moaning in pleasured ecstasy at his ministrations.
You feel his hands vacate your chest, his leaves a wet trail as he traces his tongue along one swell. He gives your nipple an experimental lick causing you to make the cutest mewl. And when he takes your whole nipple into his mouth and starts sucking like a starving man, you can’t help the profanity that escapes your lips.
You push harder against his leg, enjoying the feeling of his strong muscles rub against your neglected clit. The pleasure from your cunt and tits pool together in your belly. A gentle coil of a promise starting to form. The build up stops suddenly when Quaritch moves his leg from your sacred conjunction. But before you can even complain, you watch as he moves his entire body lower until his face is between your legs.
Your embarrassment is renewed tenfold. You lay your head back and cover your face with both hands; too bashful to watch what’s about to happen. You aren’t completely ignorant, your friends made sure of that, sparing no detail of their escapades.
You obey his command, pushing yourself up on your elbows to stare down at the man poised at your nether region.
Quaritch laughs quietly at your display of embarrassment. He unties your loincloth with ease. When he takes in the sight of you, he cant help but suck in a large breath through clenched teeth. The stars painted on your cunt glow brightly in the moon light, the nectar of your arousal flows freely from your slit. A Waterfall of Eden before him.
 
“Now that just won’t do Sweetheart. Eyes on me, I wanna see those pretty eyes while I eat this pretty pussy.”
He nods approvingly and lowers himself once more, his eyes never break contact with you.
You inhale sharply when you feel him flatten his tongue against your slick, giving your slit one long slow lick up and over your clit.
Louder and louder you moan, there is no need to keep quiet here; there is only the two of you blanketed in soft moonlight.
He presses his hands into the groves of your hips to hold you down as he gets to work eating you out proper. Up and down he licks between your folds, sucking on your clit finally, in between. He cleans you up good, drinking deep of your honeyed nectar you so graciously give him.
He listens to every keen, mewl and moan. When the pleasure becomes too much you’re on the flat of your back once more, eyes closed in blissful ecstasy. Each hard suck on your clit pulls tight the coil in your core, the fire burning brighter with each passing moment.
And just when the tension on your belly threatens to snap in glorious orgasm, suddenly the feeling stops completely. Quaritch having ceased his ministrations.
“Delicious, thank you for the meal.”
You whimper unabashedly, tears threatening your eyes as you look down at him with a confused lidded look.
“So sorry Sweetroll, but the first time your cumming is going to be on my cock; no exceptions.”
You watch with bated breath as he undoes the belt around his waist. Eagerly does he free his throbbing cock from the confines of his pants. He’s already so fucking hard as he starts slowly pumping himself. He sees you bite your bottom lip as you drink in the sight of him. You lick your lips eagerly.
He feels himself twitch in his hand at the thought of you on your hands and knees as he throat fucks you till your insides are raw. But he’ll save that for another time. Right now the sweet musk of your cunt is beckoning him, and nothing is going to stop him answering the call.
He gathers some of your nectar to spread up and down his member, before he lines himself up with your entrance.
He looks down at you, eyes meeting yours.
“You ready baby? I don’t think I can be gentle,” you nod in response. He rubs his thick tip up and down your slick, gathering more of your nectar. When he finds our entrance, he slowly pushes in just the tip, gauging your reaction. Your eyes close as pleasure assaults every nerve of your body. You feel your cunt immediately drench, excited at the prospect of being utterly fucked full. He can’t help it, seeing your face like that, hearing you sing like that? His resolve all but shatters. In one fell fluid motion he pushes all of himself in up until the hilt, meeting no resistance.
The suddenness of him, feeling his long hard cock stuff the entirety of your pussy, you can’t help the scream that rips itself from your throat. There is a pleasure you didn’t think possible, but also a dull pain from the sudden stretch. You can feel the hairs of his crotch brush against your clit. He isn’t moving though, waiting for you to adjust to this new feeling.
“[Y/N]…Can I?” He’s trying to ask if he can move in between laboured breath. You nod almost immediately. The dull pain nothing you can’t handle.
“P-please move Quaritch,” you beg and he hums in response. You feel him lift both your legs, holding them up at the knees. He pulls out slowly till the tip, then slams back into you.
“Aaah!” You yell in pleasure at the friction gracing your inner walls. Quaritch takes in one deep breath, and he starts pumping into you with all the force he can muster. He is not gentle. He leans over your body, pushing your legs up and apart, granting easier access to your welcoming cunt.
It’s all too much, all too good. The pleasure is insurmountable. Touching yourself will never bring you pleasure like this. Each time he slams back into you, he crashes against your throbbing clit; lightning sparks through your veins, each nerve ending singing a chorus of pleasure, your body is burning in the flames of desire.  
You feel the coil tightening; the build-up of orgasm approaching far quicker than you anticipated.
“Fuck—fuck you feel so good baby,” Quaritch starts praising you. Despite the size disparity, you are tight, perfect, made just for him.
You can’t answer him with words, the only sounds escaping your swollen lips are sing-song moans. It strokes his ego something deep, to see you like this; folded in half, hair framing your face like a [h/c] halo, your face dusted in deep blush. And oh, the faces you make. You can’t be this cute. It should be illegal. If this was Earth, it would be illegal.
But he’s not on Earth. And you’re not Human. Such delicate sensibilities don’t apply out here 4 light years away. Besides. Eywa presented you before him oh so generously, and it would just be impolite to refuse such a gift.
“Q-Quaritch—I’m—” You can’t seem to get the words out, your orgasm approaching without mercy. He knows it though. The squeezes of your drenched cunt warning him. But he’s not ready for you to cum yet. He’s got one more little thing he wants to do.
“Don’t you dare cum [Y/N], you hear me? That’s an order,” he doesn’t relent his pace, the bastard. You close your eyes tight, trying through sheer force of will not to cum.
“Y-yes Sir,” he all but growls the moment you call him that, and you can’t help but smile cheekily. You feel his pace slow to deliberate thrusts. He doesn’t say anything but you feel his hands remove themselves from your legs and hear him fidget with something. You open your eyes in time to see him brandishing his belt in hand.
“Now hold still darling,” he instructs as he, without question, ties the belt around your neck, wrapping the leather around his left hand in tight coils.
“Do you trust me?” he asks as he smirks down at you. Your hand traces the belt around your neck, and your eyes meet his. You stare deep into those blue pools; he is brimming with lust, desire, and something so much deeper. You can’t explain it, but you trust this man with every fibre of your being.
“Yes…I trust you,” You give him the sweetest smile you can muster, and hold your left hand. He threads the fingers of his right hand through yours.
He picks up his pace, returning once again to that brutal pace before. He thrusts and hard as he can, pounding into your cunt with all the strength he has.
“Yesyesyesyes!” You chant eagerly, feeling your orgasm build up for the third time. Without warning, Quaritch pulls on the belt. It tightens around your neck, cutting off your oxygen.
Your eyes widen in sudden panick, reasling you can barely draw in any air. And that feeling, the leather as it bites into the skin of your neck, the tightness in your chest at the lack of air, it is delicious. Your cunt squeezes unabashedly around Quaritch and he huffs with a smirk.
He lets go of your hand then, you bring it up to your throat, grabbing the belt to try and relieve some of the tension.
“No you fucking don’t—!” Quaritch pulls tighter, and with his now free hand, grabs a hold of your tail—and pulls.
Your shut your eyes at the pleasure, tears falling freely down your face. Drool seeps from the corner of your mouth hanging open. No sound escapes your parted lips.
“Such a good girl, you take my cock so well [Y/N]! No one will ever fuck you like I do! Don’t you ever forget that, you God damn hear me?”
You are unable to form any words, the only sound you can muster is a strained moan. Good enough for him.
“That’s it baby—FUCK—Take it all of me like the slut that you are. Throwing yourself at those boys, knowing full well you belong to ME!”
That does it.
The coil in your belly snaps violently, your pussy grabbing his cock in a tight vice as your orgasm wracks your body in glorious ecstasy. You ride the high for all you’re worth. The only sound your able to make is a quiet choke as you struggle to breath, eyes rolling back into your head.
Black spots appear along your vision from the lack of air. But you don’t care, your cunt is still cumming and hard, gushing relentlessly, bathing Quaritch in your heavenly nectar.
You feel his thrusts falter as you continue to squeeze him without mercy. And after a few final pumps, he cums with a load growl. He’s coating your slick walls in his hot seed. He pumps a few more times into you weakly, his hold on the be belt slackens, rewarding you with glorious air once more. You gasp greedily, taking in long slow breathes.
You lay there for a time. Drenched in all manner of bodily fluids. The smell of sex permeates your senses, and you blush, embarrassed suddenly by the activities. You feel Quaritch slowly pull his softened cock from you, the feeling of his cum slowly seeping from your slit giving you a dull pleasure.
Your hole feels utterly abused, but the pain throbs pleasurably, you find you don’t mind the feeling. You feel Quaritch untie and remove the belt from your neck. He hums approvingly at the bruise left in its wake and plants a kiss to your sensitive skin.
He moves up over your jaw to your lips, planting soft kisses along the way.
He kisses you deeply, you can taste yourself on his lips and it almost reignites the fire within you.
When he finally pulls away from the kiss, he’s staring down at you. There is something unreadable in his expression. He opens his mouth to speak. But when you blink, he’s gone.
The room is gone.
Instead, your eyes are greeted with the blinding light of morning; your senses suddenly assaulted with the burgeoning life of the day.
You sit up and immediately notice your clit is sensitive. You smile to yourself; your body must have cum while you dreamt. You stand and stretch, feeling utterly refreshed. You feel a bit bad leaving so suddenly, but that was out of your control. You’ll be sure to apologise in the next Dream.
You call for your ikran, and make the short journey back home. You are trying very hard to remember to wipe the stupid grin from your face. You make your way back to the family nest in the trees, grabbing the extra garments you hid near where you leave your ikran.
Everyone in your family is awake already. You can hear the sound of idle chatter and the smell of breakfast hits your nose. Good, you are practically starving. You don’t bother trying to be quiet as you make your way up. Just as you pull yourself up and onto the platform, it is your brother Lo’ak who addresses you first.
“Ahhh look who finally decided….to…” his voice trails off when he looks up to you.
“What the—WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR NECK?!” Kiri yells as she immediately stands up and rushes over to you, cold hands immediately on you, turning you this way and that.
Your neck?
Oh.
OH!
Oh no…
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Author's Note: Thanks for reading!!! Hope it was to your liking! Apologies for any mistakes. It's 1am and I have working in the morning lmao TwT
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hyenafu · 3 months
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The main story of Slightly Damned is not always kind to these two, so let's enjoy some cute mushy and spicy stuff with Buwaro and Kieri as adults!
I ain't waiting until my comic's epilogue to indulge lol
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quock-ko · 10 months
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June 23 2011. The chick slept near the food and water that I've put on the floor of this "temporarily henhouse" room. The pidge behaved calmly, though the chick was still a bit afraid, remembering yesterday's pecking.
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breed-the-stars · 3 months
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Imagine...
To become something akin to a pet for some kind of alien entity, in a similar, though not quite, way to how humans treat their own pets.
After several hours of thorough research, the alien learned how to take proper care for a human, and somehow they got ahold of you.
They can't help but make cooing sounds at you because you're just so adorable to them. Your alien owner loves giving you head scratches and massaging your back whenever you approach them, because the way you relax against them warms their heart.
They'll watch over you during various walks around their homeworld, but they're quick to stop you from approaching anything dangerous. There are times you pass by them and smell something terribly delicious they're preparing, and try to sample it for yourself. They know from their research that humans can't digest the seeds or pulp of the ghlotlei fruit, so they avoid giving it to you. Sometimes they'll let you have some drops of the juice, which humans can tolerate in low doses but it's not encouraged to give it too often.
You have your own little area to sleep in with a proper bed, but these aliens just LOVE using big plush furniture with internal heating systems, which you could honestly fall asleep on if you were tired enough.
Food is plentiful, though slightly generic. Your alien owner understands the basic concept of meeting calorie and nutritional requirements, at least.
What they seem to lack an understanding of, is that humans possess erogenous zones.
Oh it's nothing too crazy, they aren't massaging between your legs or anything. But the things you experience from the way they touch your back, your neck, sometimes your chest and abdomen...
Even when you choose to keep covered with the clothes you've claimed for yourself, it does nothing to stop the sensations.
It's nearly nightfall, and your alien owner is resting in the common area.
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demilypyro · 10 months
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Chapter 10
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Chapter 50
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Cyclops girl got her man! Good for her
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punkbxt · 10 months
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you all need to take worf as a bad father with the most MASSIVE grain of salt. klingons have been black caricatures from the beginning and worf being written as a bad father is one of those. imagine being dumped a kid you literally had no knowledge of having and then ur baby momma fucks off to all hell n dies or some shit like he doesnt know how to be a dad and he gets so much actual shit for it. being a parent on a starship is difficult especially when youre the spock* of your time
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barleyo · 10 months
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Pollen.
Recom! Miles Quaritch X Fem! Reader
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A/N: I finished this is 3 hours, so this might seem a little rushed, but I am obsessed with this man in a life-consuming, unhealthy, scary way. I just feel the need to share the goings on of my mind with you all via my writing, so prepare for a LOT of Miles Quaritch posts. When I say a lot... I mean it.
(PART TWO IS OUT)
Wordcount: 1.4k
TAGS: Age difference, phone sex, public masturbation, solo fem and male masturbation, mutual masturbation, voice fetish, sex pollen, phone sex with a stranger, interspecies relationship
Solo missions were not uncommon for Miles. Any one-man job immediately went to him, as a colonel he could hold his own, however, the forests of Pandora were not kind to lone wolves. Everything and anything out in the wild posed a threat, animals and natives. Plants.
He was confident in his physical abilities, and even though he didn’t like to admit it, he was ignorant to the flora and fauna of this world, so in his mind, everything was blended together into a pool of danger and death. Any sound in the still forest was a red flag to him, any leaf crunching or branch shifting caught his attention. That’s why he was so quick to turn around when a loud rustling of leaves sounded behind him.
“Ha!” Quaritch turned around, gun held up in defense, ready to shoot. He held the gun steadily as the sound continued. He slowly brought his gun back into its proper place, strapped over his bare, azure shoulder.
Just as his guard fell, a small wisp of color lunged past him, knocking him onto the forest floor. He looked up, not seeing the creature, whatever it had been. Pushing himself up, he noticed that he had touched a mushroom-like plant. It was bioluminescent, and left a powdery dust on his palm.
“This fuckin’ place,” he sighed, wiping the white dust off onto his cargos. His face scrunched up in discomfort  as an itching sensation ticked at his hand. He scratched at it to no avail. The feeling built quickly from a small itch to a flaming burn. 
The heat spread from his hands to his arms, then to his chest, and soon coated his entire body. It felt as if he were submerged into a body of boiling water like he was being cooked, simmered and stewed in a pot.
“What was that shit?” He groaned, feeling the slick of his sweat drench through his shirt. Quaritch dug through his pant’s pockets and grabbed his walkie talkie, speaking into the front of it. “Colonel to Blue Team, over.” The line was dangerously quiet, the only sound being the fizzing of the radio. “Blue Team? Lyle?” He cursed, not receiving a response. “Forgot how bad the connection was on these things.”
He smacked the device, hoping it would offer him a clear connection. With his slicked palms, he dropped the walkie talkie, muttering profanities to himself. He snatched it and held it to his ear as a final pathetic attempt to connect to his team. “Hello? Anyone there, for God’s sake?” 
To his surprise, there was an answer. Not just any answer, but a soft, clear one.
“Hello? Hello, are you there? This is (Y/N).” 
He shuddered. From relief, maybe, but the warmth spreading to his crotch pointed towards arousal. It confused him, this wasn’t the first time he’d heard a voice as beautiful as this one, but instead of dwelling on it, he frantically spoke back. 
“Yeah, ‘m here, Colonel Miles Quaritch, over.” His mouth was dry and his tongue felt far too large,
“Colonel? Uhm, well, what has you tuned into the lab department’s line? Can I help you?”
Such a beautiful voice, even for a science puke, he thought. “Damn radio won't connect to my team line, but I’m out in the middle of nowhere in this God forsaken forest. I fell on some weird mushroom lookin’ thing and now I’m so itchy and sweaty that I can’t even fuckin’ think straight,” he said into the device, “Hell, I can barely walk. It’s starting to hurt too.” He stretched the fingers on his aching palm, trying to soothe it. It did not work and the pain only shot through the rest of his body, just as the itching and burning had as well.
“Oh, Mr. Quaritch, I’m sorry to hear that,” the woman replied, urgency in her voice, “can you tell me what this ‘mushroom’ looked like more specifically?” There was a twinge of excitement in her voice that pissed him off.
“What’s that gonna do? Damn it, can you just put me on with my team?”
“Please, calm down. If I can figure out what you have interacted with, I can tell you how to fix it.”
He sighed. “I already told you, it was like a mushroom. It left this weird powdery shit on my hand.”
“Powder? Oh my,” she sucked in a breath, “Colonel, I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to answer me. Are you, uh, are you–”
“Miss, can you spit it out already? I don’t have time for this, if you’ve forgotten, I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere and sweating buckets right now.”
“Are you hard right now? Your– your dick, is it hard?”
Quaritch swallowed thickly, feeling the bulge in his pants twitch again.
“Yes, really hard. What does that have to do with anything?”
“The plant that you had touched, it is known to release pollen that arouses one to an extreme, if you do not satisfy yourself soon, the pain will be unbearable.” Miles could hear panic in the woman’s voice and the click of a door as if it were being locked. “You understand, don’t you, Colonel?”
“It’s already awful.” A groan reverberated in his chest as he spoke, “So I’m supposed to jerk myself off in the middle of the forest, right in the open?”
“I’m afraid so, please you must start now, the pain will be much worse without stimulation.” 
He nodded, even though he knew she would not know and unbuttoned his pants, pulled his boxers down, and freed his dick. It was striped, just like the rest of his Na’vi body that he was slowly getting used to. 
Miles nervously grabbed his own length. This wasn’t the first time he had touched himself in his Na’vi form, it was second nature to him now, but this was the first time he had done it out in the open, and the first time he had done it with a woman talking him through it. 
He pumped slowly, fucking his fist. He couldn’t help but imagine his hand being the warm, tight cunt of the woman on the other line. A trembling moan strained from his mouth as he picked up the pace, seeking more friction in his palm. “(Y/N)--”
“I’m still here, sir, don’t worry,” she said, comfortingly.
His face flushed with a purple tint, not realizing she was still there. Obviously she was still on the line, it’s not like she could just leave, he rationalized it in his head. “It still hurts so bad, darlin’, fucking my hand ain’t helping,” he groaned.
“Just try, you must do it. You must cum, Colonel, please. Do it for me,” she whispered into the walkie talkie, embarrassed yet aroused by her own words.
“Fuck,” he hissed, sharp teeth barring down. “Need ya’ to touch yourself too, not fair if it’s only me.” Pre-cum oozed from his fat, leaky tip, beading at his hole.
“O-oh, I’m not sure..” her hands rested on the band of her panties, undecidedly fiddling with the elastic. 
“Can’t cum unless you do it with me, missy, c’mon, need it bad.” His hips bucked into his hand again, moans catching in his throat.
(Y/N) hummed and slipped her hand into her pants. She slid the tips of her fingers through her wet folds, rubbing past her clit with gentle strokes. Focusing on the peaked bud, she drew tight, neat circles over it and felt her thighs try to close over her hand. “Oh, Christ, Mr. Quaritch, it feels good, mm.”
“I know, sweet girl, I know. Tell me when you’re ready, wanna cum with you.”
Lazily slowing down, Miles gave (Y/N) a chance to catch up with him. When he could hear breathy, needy moans from the line, he continued at his earlier pace, slamming his hips into his hand. Her whines were sweet to his ears, he could practically smell her, taste her. He threw his head back and huffed. 
“Close, ‘m really close.”
“Gonna cum, baby girl? C’mon, cum like you’d cum all over my cock,” he rutted into his fist, feeling his balls tighten and stomach coil.
“Yes, fuck, yes,” she drawled out a messy, noisy moan, “Cummin’ now, sir, ah–”
“Good job, baby,” he said through gritted teeth as he spilled his seed on the ground, fucking himself through his fading orgasm.
There was a long, comfortable silence on each line as they each caught their breath. Miles was the one to break the silence. 
“Thank you for helping out, bunny, but it just wasn’t enough. Still hurting. Gonna help me when I get back to base?”
“Yes, sir. Let me find some proper directions so you can come home.”
“Be ready for me when I get there, I wanna see you as soon as I get there, girl.”
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skullsemi · 1 year
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Thoughts on donmick or minnsy?
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Pretty cute!
I admit duck and mouse pairings it's a lovely trope, just too good
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