Happ Shitscram

@gone-with-the-windrixville Had to make this its own post cuz I’m obsessed

“The sheer rage felt had awakened a beastial emotional frenzy she had been harboring for 17 years…

using every last ounce of strength she had,

she plunged her remaining gauntlet into the mechanical arm socket-

the hydraulics rattling violently to match her blazing fury.”

Low key really proud of this-

Correction, those who have TikTok have a 90day extension to get their stuff or something, idk, I don’t have it

PLEASE DO I WANT TO MNOW HIS VIRGIN OPINION OK THE BOOK- I’ve read it 218.5 times since 7th grade lmao I’m obsessed

RAHHHHH MY DADS READING THE OUTSIDERS IM SO HAPPY

I’LL POST HIS OPINIONS WHEN HES DONE

Yall I am scrugglin I have to work 30 hours this week and 32 next week- I’ll get this done when I can 💀

im just saying the outsiders has potential to be a really fun video game. like a storyline mode or just wandering around.

like imagine just walking through the map and suddenly its a battle with tim shepard like hello? why aren't we making this rn

I HAVE INSTAGRAM NOW!! Feel free to stop by!!

https://www.instagram.com/cailen_06?igsh=YXBnZml6Y3FnNnlo&utm_source=qr

Petra Hart fanart from Let It Be Enough by @kaspavanlortsyal literally the most amazing fic I’ve read in a very long time- go show them some love!!

SBWOIDCSUCDUCWUCIAUCWIUWICDSIYWDIYWSICWIUIUDFUCKME

GOD DAMN!

Yeah I don't think any of the Recoms or Avatars look so uncannily like their human version like Quaritch does! I mean even those ears!

Reblog for September- I will rain hellfire upon the day my bonds be released pᵘⁿ ᵏⁱⁿᵈᵃ ⁱⁿᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵃˡˢᵒ ᵏᵃˢ ᵈᵒⁿᵗ ᵇᵉ ᵐᵃᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵐᵉ ⁱ ᵒⁿˡʸ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈⁱˢᶜʳⁱᵖᵗⁱᵒⁿ ⁱ ᵈⁱᵈⁿᵗ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ⁱᵗ ʸᵉᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢⁱˡˡ ᵐʸ ᶜᵃʳⁿᵃᵍᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᶠ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ

❄️✨Smutty Quaritch Oneshot - Christmas Eve✨❄️

CONTENT: Christmas!, I Wanted Quaritch to Wear a Santa Hat, Ribbons for Lingerie, You Are The Gift✨ AHA—, Light Bondage (with the ribbons), Gagged, Teasing, You Get Glazed like a Donut, Oral Sex (receiving), Vaginal Sex, Size Difference (per usual), Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Fingering, Tit Sucking, if I had to write “If there’s one thing Miles Quaritch enjoys eating more than Christmas cookies, it’s your pussy” you have to read it, Sprinkle of Fluff.

Nobody wants to spend Christmas Eve alone. You were waiting a while. Almost too long—almost long enough that you considered sending him a picture of exactly what he was going to find on his bed—but finally, the door opens.

Quaritch’s glowing amber eyes narrow onto you. You’re laying on the bed, propped up on your elbows, and wrapped in thick army-green ribbon. Candles flicker on the beside table and the top of the headboard is wrapped in twinkling lights that cast seductive shadows across your body.

The colonel reaches for you, but you stall him with a look and nod your head towards the Santa hat on the corner of the bed.

He huffs a laugh. “Really?”

You bite your lip and grin.

“Fine,” he muttered, snatching the hat and tugging it on, careful not to trap his sensitive Na’vi ears. It was a little small, but that added to the charm.

Quaritch grabs your ankles and slides you to the foot of the bed, tail swishing in anticipation. “What a pretty present,” he murmurs, fangs flashing with a wicked grin. “All wrapped up for me, huh?”

“Merry Christmas, colonel,” you say.

His long blue fingers brush the edge of the ribbon snug against the top of your breasts, tied with a large bow in the centre. Your nipples peak the shiny satin as a shiver shoots down your spine. There’s a matching bow between the dimples in the small of your back.

Quaritch pulls his shirt off and tosses it aside. On cue, you undo the large buckle of his belt. You take your time, fighting the desire to touch as much of him as fast as possible after dreaming about this moment all day. Judging by the stiff bulge in his cargo pants, you’re not the only one, but he stops you before you reach the zipper.

“My turn,” he says.

He tugs one side of the bow holding your breasts and watches hungrily as the ribbon falls away. Part of you is annoyed that the hour you spent tying yourself up /just right/ is unravelled so easily, but those thoughts fade as the colonel kneels before you and flicks your nipples with his rough tongue. You arch and gasp, locked in place with his hands on your hips.

Your fingers tangle in his cropped hair and the fuzz of the Santa hat as he sucks your tits into his hot mouth, his tongue continuing to work the rosy bud as his teeth scrape your tender skin. His breath tickles your collarbone as he pulls you in, tasting you like a man starved. His attention travels from your breasts to your neck, inhaling the sweet vanilla perfume as he nips and sucks.

“You’re like a god damn Christmas cookie,” he grunts.

He devoured the batch you’d made earlier this week. “Gonna eat me too?”

“Damn right.”

You squeak as he tosses you back on the bed. The mattress dips under his weight as he crawls on top of you, caging you within his powerful limbs. For a moment he simply studies you, your breasts gleaming with his saliva and half-unwrapped. Then, Quaritch smirks and picks up the discarded ribbon. He brushes the soft fabric over your skin and watches the goosebumps form across your flesh.

You close your eyes and arch, thighs squeezing together. He takes his sweet time teasing your flushed skin with the feather light touch of the ribbon, teasing over our belly and chest before up your arms. You don’t notice that he’s looped the ribbon around your wrists until he pulls it snug, shackling you to the headboard.

He chuckled as your eyes fly open. “Don’t give me that. I think this is exactly what you had in mind,” he tells you, leaning down and kissing his way down your arms.

You couldn’t deny that. A moan escapes you when his mouth finally meets yours, the kiss deep and full of promise.

Quaritch’s knee parts your thighs and you whimper at the delicious friction. He lets you grind against the thick muscle of his thigh as he slips his hands beneath you and unties the second emerald ribbon. He smirks upon finding the section that falls away from your needy cunt already wet with desire.

“Open up,” he instructs, and slips the damp ribbon between your teeth, gagging you with it before you can protest. The sight of you tasting yourself as he ties it snug darkens his eyes with a more carnal desire.

Deciding he’s going to taste you too, the colonel pins your knees to the mattress and parts your slick folds with his tongue. His groan of satisfaction reverberates through you. You strain against your bonds with building pleasure as his devilish mouth works on you, arching. Muffled by the gag, your moans fill the room, mingling with the sloppy attention of his mouth.

If there’s one thing Miles Quaritch enjoys eating more than Christmas cookies, it’s your pussy.

He sucks your clit until you shudder before soothing you with greedy licks. Covering your entire cunt in his fanged mouth, he lets you grind against his tongue until your pleasure soaks the blanket. He kisses the puffy lips of your pussy as you ride through the aftershocks of your orgasm, almost reverent, and nuzzles the flat bridge of his nose against the apex of your thighs. You squirm and whimper, already aching for more.

Quaritch slicks two fingers on your pussy and pushes them deep into the burning heat of your core. He curses under his breath at the unbearable tightness and pumps his hand slowly to relax the quivering, silken walls.

You want to beg for more, to insist you’re ready to take him, but the ribbon pressing against your tongue betrays you. You can only moan and hook an ankle around his neck, pulling him closure, desperate.

The ribbon binding your wrists doesn’t budge. Of course he knows how to tie a damn good knot, being marine a and all. The burning strain in your shoulders reminds you just how much power he holds. You want him to unleash every inch of himself upon you. You were his Christmas present, after all.

Quaritch sits back on his knees and wipes his chin on the back of his hand. As he removes his pants, you strain your neck to glimpse the thing you’ve been craving all day. He adjusts the santa hat, securing it. You giggle breathlessly around the gag.

He rests down on you, smirking at how your body tenses when his member brushes your inner thigh. Your moan of impatience is almost animalistic as he rubs the head of his cock between the wet lips of your pussy, lubricating his ribbed shafted in preparation.

He kisses you, then pulls back just enough to watch your expression as he thrusts his hips.

You scream around the gag as his alien cock forces its way into you. It burns like sweet fire as the walls of your cunt stretch to fit him. Your back arches as he works his way deeper with each thrust, hissing at the sensation of your tight sex gripping him, sucking him in.

It’s far from the first time he’s fucked you this way, yet every time you’re not sure you can take it. He pants and grunts as he ruts into you, the head of his cock pounding your cervix. You can’t scream his name so you settle for wordless moans that grow to hoarse cries which each slam of the headboard.

The colonel grabs your hips and lifts your lower half from the mattress, growling as he brings you down onto his cock, again and again. He’s tense with concentration and a thin sheen of sweat gleams gloriously upon his striped skin.

His relentless pace doesn’t stop as your mind shatters and another orgasm bleeds through you, white hot fire spilling out from your core into every nerve and fiber of your being. You’re vaguely aware that he keeps going, growing closer to his own release in your spasming cunt, but for a moment all you know is weightless pleasure.

Quaritch drops you to the mattress, leaving your thighs to tremble on either side of your ruined pussy as he fists his cock. Hot, glowing cum coats your stomach and tits in thick ribbons as he roars his release, tail lashing through the air behind him. The bioluminescent dots of his skin flicker.

You tilt your chin up, whining softly.

Chuckling, Quaritch tugs the gag down and kisses you. The white pompom at the tip of the santa hat tickles your forehead. He drags the ribbed underside of his cock over your overstimulated clit and you shudder, twitching away.

After a long shared shower and another round beneath the steaming water, you find yourselves curled up in bed amid the twinkling lights.

Wearing the Santa hat once more, Quaritch produces a small gift from beneath the bed. He hands it to you wordlessly as his fingertips trace your bare shoulder.

You frown and tear open the plain wrapping paper and reveal the present. It’s a pair of fuzzy pink socks.

“I thought we weren’t doing gifts,” you protest, caressing the buttery material.

“Yeah, well, your feet turn into damn icicles at night and I’m tired of you warmin’ them up on my back while I’m sleepin’,” he says.

You smile. You can’t help it, not as he fails to suppress the hint of softness in his tone. “Thank you.”

He catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Your gift, though?” he smirked, and kisses you. “Outstanding.”

Happy Holidays, Simps!

At least you can write lmao- *reads LIBE for the 1929273636363262818199129282736363637382929182726363636373828291919182733636th time*

I feel called out hehe