#Blue Moon Ball Roleplay

[wizblr-blue-moon-ball]

You find a letter addressed to you...

The envelope is a pale, moonstone white with gold filligree. It is sealed with a wax seal, the engravings from the stamp showing an intricate magical spell used to ensure the letter was delivered to you.

If you are with a friend who also recieves a letter, you notice that each seal was customized to specifically reach you and you alone.

The paper inside a fine parchment with an invitation written in deep blue ink....

☆

Hello Magical Friend~☆

You are cordially invited to the Blue Moon Ball, the first of its kind hosted on Wizard Island (Island).

It will be a week-long celebration of the magical and arcane with old and new friends; if you happen to receive this letter, you are one of many esteemed guests we would like to host at our establishment.

Should you decide to attend, please sign the RSVP card added within this envelope and send it back using your preferred method of mailing.

The ball will be held in the fourth week of May, the Nineteenth through the Twenty-Fifth (May 19-25). We hope to see you there!

Signed...

☆

Welcome everyone to the official announcement post of the Blue Moon Ball! Wizardblr's (maybe?) first community-wide event. Hosted by yours truly @the-necrobotanist! I'm happy to see you here!

The event will take place over the course of seven days, where participants will make posts relating to a series of themes throughout the entire week.

The event will take place on the week of the 19-25, mark your calendars!

◇

RULES

Please be polite and kind to other participants

No AI generation in any and all submissions

Do not reveal any personal info

No NSFW

(This is everything for now. Please do not make me extend this rule list)

♡

There are four categories for people to partake in for the prompts: Art, Writing, Roleplay, and Photography. I'll explain a bit more in detail about them below.. .

ART [#Blue Moon Ball Art]

Draw your character according to the prompts, and perhaps other people's characters!

Use of picrews/heroforge is allowed as long as you credit where you made the image from

Use of AI to make art is strictly prohibited and will not be included in the event.

No NSFW

WRITING [#Blue Moon Ball Writing]

Write a story, drabble, or fic of your character!

There is no base word count or word limit, do whatever you wish!

Poems and the like are totally welcome and allowed!

No AI generated writing is allowed.

No NSFW

ROLEPLAY [#Blue Moon Ball Roleplay]

Roleplay at the event! I'll make a few starters for people to post and add to :)

Keep everything SFW, and if a RP situation makes you uncomfortable please remember that it is okay to back out

No NSFW

PHOTOGRAPHY [#Blue Moon Ball Photogtaphy]

Take a photo! Whether it be an outfit, food, or a pet!

No revealing personal information. This includes your face, address, full name, etc. Please practice internet safety.

No NSFW

The official prompt list will not be revealed until 3 days before the event! There will however be a prologue prompt!

♤

Prologue Prompt

Your prompt for before the event is.....

DRESS YOUR BEST~☆

Gather your fabric and get your sewing kits ready, your first prompt is to design and create your character’s outfit for the ball!

Create an outfit and post it to tumblr, whether through art, writing, or whatever you wish! Make sure to use the tag #BMB Outfit so people can see your work, and feel free to mention me so I can reblog!

All outfits submitted (unless noted otherwise in the post) will be added to a poll for a "Best Dressed" poll that will he hosted after the main event is over, consider it an afterparty of sorts.

All rules above apply to this post, I hope you all enjoy!!

◇

ALSO JOIN THE DISCORD!!!

♧

That's everything for now! I'm so excited to be hosting this, and I'm so, so happy and grateful for the huge amount of people interested. I cannot wait to see what you make!!

Enjoy the ball, Magical Friends~☆ !!

¤

Pinglist Set A

@scuttling-comfuddlement @the-gnomest-bastard @kobold-sanctuary-buss-island @satyrs-apothecary @irving-the-pirate-wizard @morbingtime @justagingerwithredhair @chaos-familiar @these-detestable-hands @regina-the-sorceress @combustion-witch @yourlocalbreadenthusiast @selldemapplez @agentldiddy @fractalkitty @wizard-island-trading-co @good-wizard @the-illegal-wizard-council @ash-the-tiefling @mysticminion @blobbiedaykeeppcaway @life-is-okay-rn2 @skyethebisexualwolfwizard @thequeerwizardcouncil @dread-the-eldritch-wizard @profeshinul-wizurd @a-squirrel-wizard @the-mighty-dalob @amateur-wizard @chaos-wizard-nyehehe @bertskullhaver @transgender-wizard @flowers-the-sun-witch @the-silliest-sorcerer @wizard-ghost @a-goose-in-a-trenchcoat @flirtyambiguouswizard @paltering-peculiarity @parkyrtheelvishbard @ceeceelemons

[the-mighty-dalob]

@regina-the-sorceress

*While we’re sitting on the balcony I notice a change start to happen. A spectral band floats in*

Look babe. I think the dancing is about to start!

It looks like it.

May i ritually step onto your Feet on the Dancefloor?

[a-ladyman-in-waiting]

Great Blue Moon Ball at Dawn

After the performance at the fireworks, I head to Lurian and asked him if I could borrow a candle stick and some food to eat at home.

“Hello Blue Moon host, (I’ve forgotten their name), may I return home with some food?”

Lurian gave a simple nod. (Hopefully that’s a yes from the host.)

[wasteland-squog-baby]

*just chilling in the corner trying not to burn or melt anyone*

[justagingerwithredhair]

The Blue Moon Ball (Part I): Dancing

As I wander the halls of the venue looking for a secluded alcove, a new thought gives me hesitation. If I am planning to read into the host, I'll have to at least meet with them first. I'll need a name, a face, or any detail I can use to connect my questions to my deck. The more I know, the more likely my divination will succeed. First, I need a lead. I could try my hand at clairvoyance. Maybe I can fish out the name or face of the host so finding them won't be as difficult. All I have for reference is my invitation letter and its handwriting. I can work with this.

Finally tucking myself away into a more private area, I call upon my palisman, Ivory. He is a narwhal and the ornament topping my staff, but he can separate and float around at will. My mentor helped me carve him from palistrom wood once I started to earn my stripes as a wizard. He has a light blue body, yellow tusk, white belly, and pink accents. He also bares a small crystal ball that is slightly buried in his chest. It serves as my spell casting focus and a tool for divination on the go. Ivory begins to swim through the air and levitates in front of me.

"Ivory, dear, may I ponder the orb please?"

He gives an enthusiastic nod as a reply. He must be just as excited for some investigation as I am. He's always been the inquisitive type. (I have no doubt that's why we are so close). Ivory stretches and the crystal ball begins to dislodge from his chest and float, suspending in front of me. I retrieve my invitation and begin tracing my fingers over the ink. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and begin the divination.

"Show me the host of the Blue Moon Ball (@wizblr-blue-moon-ball)."

The crystal ball flares to life and images flash across the orb, becoming projected into my mind. Brilliant cloth... dark skin... long ears... celestial jewelry... and... wings? What a unique character. The images swell and begin to transform into letters. The text font is almost identical to what I read in the invitation. They letters are written in light one after another:

L. U. R. I...

Then the visions fade; the orb goes dark once more. I suppose that's all I am able to see with my current connection with the host. Though vague, the visions were helpful. Now I know what characteristics to look for, and more importantly, a name. Luri? Is that all, or were the visions incomplete? I think I'll have to socialize more if I am to learn anything else.

Ivory reunited with his orb and nestled comfortably back on top of my staff. I entered the hallways once more to find them oddly empty, but majestic music was echoing down the corridors. Following it, I could make out a large crowd of voices and endless thumps stepping in time. Oh dear... the dance must have started without me! I began to jog down the halls while gripping my staff with nervous anticipation. This quickly proved to be a reckless mistake as I turn the corner and immediately collide with a beastman (@hyper-lynx). I fall too the ground and my staff clatters to the floor with me.

"AH! A thousand pardons! Are you hurt! I'm not much of a healer but I can mend your wounds if you are!"

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode IV

Seed of Life

This is @zestys-stuff 's OC. All credits to this character goes to this beautiful, talented artist. Thank you again for allowing me to explore and create with him!

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, angst, early pregnancy smut (will be forewarned before it happens), daddy daughter drama, Ralak being little rough because reader won’t stop teasing him, Ralak literally has blue balls, ball play, blowjob, brief thigh fucking, likely incorrect na’vi, teacher/student dynamics/roleplay, p in v, quickie, squirting, masturbation, dirty talk, sexual tension, age gap 

Disclaimer: This chapter entails pregnancy and sexual intimacy during early pregnancy. I include a warning directly before the smut happens in the case that you want to indulge in this chapter but aren’t necessarily up for the pregnancy smut. 

Word Count: 10k sorry

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: thank you guys for always being so patient with me. i love yall too the moon and back <3 happy holidays and a happy new year! also, I’ve realised that I unintentionally decided that Kiri is not involved in this series (i dunno honestly, it’s just occuring to me that I’ve never really mentioned her before and it feels difficult to incorporate her at this point i suppose). It seems like we (reader) have taken her place in this au in regards to being jakes adopted ‘babygirl’ (nothing else though—no superpowers or anything loool).  

Synopsis: After telling Ralak that he's going to be a father, the reality dawns on you that you need to break the news to your own father.

<- Previous -> Next

This pregnancy shouldn’t be much of a surprise to you, honestly. How could you not be? After such a breeding it would be a miracle if you weren’t pregnant. Yet the news wasn’t quite sinking in, even when Tsireya looked at you with wide eyes and spelled it out for you. But now that you’re walking towards the tsahìk, you’re faced with reality and it begins to sink in as you count each step you take. 

Forty-two…  

The words that rolled off the tarsem’s tongue echo in your skull.  

Forty-three…  

Etching themselves into the bone, leaving you with no space to deny the truth. 

Forty-four… 

“You are with child.” 

The ringing in your ears stops as your vision refocuses on the stone cold expression of the Tsahìk. Her voice is unfaltering and clear as it delivers the news to your ears a second time. Bowing to the taller woman, you sweep three fingers away from your forehead and turn your heel to walk away. But before you can take two steps she announces something that makes your ears stand tall.  

“A boy.”  

Her two harshly spoken words strike through your chest, a sinking feeling now brewing in the pit of your stomach. You stop dead in your tracks and lift your head that was once tilted down to your feet. Things become even more real, having you force down a wad of your spit to keep your vision from splitting again. You’re barely able to use your voice—your mouth partially open and your tongue rolling from the churn of your tummy.  

“Thank you, Ronal.” You manage to squeak a decibel or two over a whisper, dropping your head again to lock your stare to your feet before fleeing the now-crowding scene. You overhear the people murmuring the news as you scurry away to your marui pod.  

‘The forest girl expects the firstborn of the village’s best warrior’;  

‘She won’t make it out alive!’; 

‘Did you hear? She will birth the first of a new kind. A kind with demon blood’.  

If your legs could go any quicker, they would.  

A child grows in your womb now. A child for the man you love—Ralak. The man who deserves it most. You’re scared and excited all at once. Proud to bear a son for such a notable and fearsome man. But afraid of how your family will take to the news.  

This was your first month of being a mated pair, and you’ve already succumbed to your most primordial instinct to mate. And with what everyone is already whispering, you’re scared of much more than that. Is what they say true? Is this a risky thing? Will he be teased for being different? Will he be rejected from the clan?  

Does Ralak… even want this?  

You both hadn’t even sat down and spoken about the possible consequences of such a cosmic event—your synced cycles. What if he hadn’t meant all the things he said? Or if he really just couldn’t prevent the things that he did during his rut? How would he react if that were the case?  

Your mind is running at a hundred clicks an hour and your nerves are wringing your stomach that it takes the hot sand spilling through the cracks of your toes to make you realise that you’re already home.  

And there he is, in all his glory.  

Doing nothing other than sharpening his damn spear. Sitting on his knees, leaned back with his flexed abs and gathered brows, concentrating on his task—blissfully unaware of the gossip spreading throughout the clan. The sight brings serenity to the white noise in your head, leaving nothing but the crash of the waves and the splash of the ilus off in the distance. I  

Ralak’s ears twitch as he senses your presence, but he remains focused on the stroke of his whetstone against the blade. He can feel your apprehension from where he sits, and he can already tell what you’re here for. Yet he chooses to keep his appearance no less than stoic, but not enough to be intimidating.  

“Tanhì.” He hums low enough that you strain to hear him.  

“I need to speak with you.” You utter, wetting your dry lips with a quick swipe of your tongue. You stand there fidgeting with your fingers as you await a reply from your husband. It’s almost mortifying how silent this man can actually be. You see the slight tilt of his head and his ear perk up to listen closely. Taking this as your cue to speak, you try to find the words to say.  

How do I say this?  

Ralak is a simple man, perhaps it’s better to give it to him straight. An easy, ‘I carry your unborn son’, would do, right? You begin to gnaw on the dry skin on your bottom lip as you think. But his silence is really getting to you today. How can he sit there so… unbothered? Not even a glance thrown your way or an eyelash batted. Maybe you should just spit it out — ‘you got me pregnant’.  

“Hm?” He lets out a muffled grunt, swiping the whetstone against the spearhead. It sounds innocent. Like he’s just immersed in a task and couldn’t quite bring himself to completely stop. 

“We no longer need to prepare for my heat.” You blurt out, not even knowing where the words came from. You witness his spine straighten and him quickly stilling his movements.  

Little did you know his heart gallops at the speed of a direhorse, thumping wildly between his ribs as he prepares himself to finally hear you utter the words. Oh, how he had been waiting for your sweet voice to sing the news. But he realises that you seem to need an extra push to say them.  

“And why is that?” Ralak husks, still unmoving.  

You wait for him to turn around. To look your way. Something.  

But… nothing.  

“I’m pregnant.” 

Ralaks heart skips a beat and his breath catches in his throat. A grin spreads from ear to ear, so strong and wide that if you were really paying attention you would have caught the way his ears stand at full height.  

But you were too busy fighting the bubble of the blood in your thumping heart, trying to keep your frustration to a minimum. You had expected more. For him to turn around, at the very least. All you could hear was the da-dump and the silence between you two. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

Perhaps it’s all the hushed chatter from earlier or maybe it’s just the new surge of hormones and out-of-whack pheromones but you can’t help the burn of your eyes as they fill with tears.  

“So w-what? Not even a glance my way? You knock me up and have nothing to s-say for it?”  You choke back your heated tears of frustration, Ralak now huffing a vehement sigh. “You’re not even surprised, or—” Your blubbering is cut short by your husband's quick movement.  

Ralak instantaneously brings himself to his feet and storms over to you, towering over your petite frame. Now he’s peering down at you, dark, smouldering eyes holding the most intimidating gaze with you as he closes the distance between your bodies. He’s still damp from seeing to the ilus this morning that when your chest touches his cold, bare stomach, it hardens your nipples into stiff peaks.   

“Surprised?” He rasps, his large hand flying to your lower stomach, gently pressing into it. Heaving shoulders slowing as he steadies his breathing, Ralak lowers his head to brush his lips against the shell of your ear— 

“Do you not think I had every intention of putting this baby inside of you?” 

Hearing this spoken in such an assertive tone sends shivers up your spine—Ralak knows exactly how to handle you and your… sensitivity. He always has. Your tail sways uncontrollably behind you, earning a well concealed smirk from the giant before you. It’s always been one of his favourite parts of you, but now—oh, now he has a new favourite part of you.  

Your soon-to-be swelling belly.  

“I have known.” He admits through a whisper, smoothing his entire palm over your budding womb, planting a quick kiss on your temple. “Your scent… it has changed, tanhì.”  

“What?” You whisper, almost pulling away from his tender touches to look at him. “And you didn’t say anything?”  

“I wanted to hear you say it. I have been waiting… to hear you say it.” He’s the one to pull away this time, looking you deeply in the eyes. His free hand raises, using his thumb to wipe away a tear seeping from the corner of your eye. “Please. Do not cry.”  

You don’t even know what to say. Yet again, Ralak leaves you speechless—with trembling lips and a swelling throat.  

“And you are actually eating the payoang niktsyey [fish wraps] I cook.”  

“What?” You snort, letting loose a sudden, nasally giggle. You drop your smile and try to fix a serious expression on your face. “What do you mean? I always eat your payoang niktsyey [fish wraps]”  

Ralak laughs, his three fingers tucking hair behind your ear, “I see you throw them to the ilus, tanhì. I am no fool.”  

You laugh again, snotty-nosed and teary-eyed, sniffling when the uncontrollable giggling fit ends. “It seems that our son enjoys your cooking, ‘lak.” You bubbler with a wobbly smile, blinking harshly to clear your vision.  

Ralaks eyes bulge as they frantically search yours—a beaming smile spreading across his lips, his pointed teeth on full display. “Son?” He exhales softly, his left brow bone jumping ever so slightly.  

All you can do is nod, letting your wobbly smile morph into a grin. The tears come back like they never left, twice as much and even hotter than before. You swear you see Ralaks eyes gloss over too, glistering in the sunlight.  

Ralak sinks to his knees, coming face to face with your soft tummy. 

“My prrnen [baby]. My ‘evengan [son; boy child]. It is your sempu [daddy].” He whispers, heated lips slightly pressed against your silken skin. Chin tucked to your chest, you watch in awe, straining to listen to his hushed whispers. “I have wanted you for so long.”  

Hearing that—oh, how hearing that makes you feel. You feel warm inside, your heart so full all your earlier fears melt away. Ralak looks up at you, azure blue eyes filled with nothing but love and adoration—gratitude and admiration.  

“My sweet tanhì. You have made me the man I have always wanted to be.” He croons at you, planting a long, soft kiss on your stomach—eyes still locked with yours. “And I thank you for that. Nìt’iluke [forever; never-endingly]”  

And just like that, the butterflies you felt when you first laid eyes on this man come rushing in, flapping their wings at full force.  

“I am your mate.” You sputter out a little, tiny sob. “It’s what I-I am supposed to do.”  

Ralak stands up, holding eye contact with you the entire way.  

“You owe me nothing. It is an honour that you carry my unborn, y/n.” His hand leaves your stomach to grasp your hand, intertwining his thickset fingers with yours. “You will be a nawm [great] mother.” 

“And you will be the best father.” You choke back your sobs, struggling to get your words out. A comfortable silence passes, where you both immerse yourselves into one another’s touch. Until Ralak witnesses your expression morph into something of worry.  

“What is it?” He asks in a hushed voice, keeping his tone calm and cool.  

“Speaking of… fathers.” The column of your throat undulates when you gulp hard, “How will I tell mine?” 

Ralak swallows, too. The thought had crossed his mind a few times over the past week. He saw the answer as simple – tell him. Ralak holds a lot of respect for your father, looking up at him as a superior given his status and skill as a warrior. And although he’s slightly intimidated by your father, Ralak sees this respect as mutual—therefore, it should be returned. Surely, this will go smoothly if you both remain polite.  

Right?  

“We tell him. Together.” Ralak grasps your hand once more, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze, his heavy accent shining through now that he’s high on emotions, “I keep you safe. Both of you.”   

—— 

Both you and Ralak make your way down the shore towards the webbing of overlapping mangrove roots. Though you insisted on breaking the news to your family by yourself, he was adamant that he accompanies you. You couldn’t bear the thought of your father lashing out on Ralak, especially in front of the others. You tried to explain that to him, but he simply shook his head and tightened the clasp of his saya (knife sheath) on his hip.   

You make the trek by foot, wanting a little more time to think about what you were going to say, and he ensured to stay right behind you. Quite literally—looming behind you like some sort of bodyguard. Every na’vi you pass are quick to avert their gaze elsewhere when they see the giant you have as a shadow. They tried not to look to begin with, but it was a rare sight to see you two so close together among the clan.  

Their hushed whispers are kept to an absolute minimum but Ralak hears them nonetheless. It doesn’t bother him. Not anymore, at least. It used to bother him before he had met you—hearing the chatter of the gossip about his voluntary six year celibacy despite being the chief’s right hand man. And now that the murmurs entail nothing but his relationship with you, he could care less.  

But then he hears the indistinct mumble about the babe budding in your womb. It’s something along the lines of ‘it being some demon hybrid’. The comment alone has Ralak screeching to a halt, his head snapping in the direction of a stocky, young warrior in training. One that Tonowari had relentlessly urged Ralak to teach until he begrudgingly gave him a couple combat lessons.  

Ralak’s eyes narrow and sharpen, snapping down to shoot a threatening leer down at him. That's all it took for the stumpy na’vi to drop his head in shame and scurry away with his younger companions.  

Sensing that Ralak is no longer on your tail, you turn around, half-expecting him to be five steps behind. Instead, he’s right where you left him, with a reassuring smile and an extended hand gesturing you to ‘continue’. You return a light hearted smile and spin around, taking another step towards your family marui.  

—— 

“To what do we owe the visit?” Neteyam smiles as he greets you at the marui door, arms splayed out for a hug. You smile and slump into your brother, allowing him to envelope you in a warm embrace. “We haven’t seen you in what feels like weeks, sis.”  

“Because we haven’t.” Lo’ak adds, lurking behind his bigger brother, arms crossed over his chest with a grin on his face.  

“Hey Lo’.” You say in a low voice, smiling at him as you let go of your big brother. Ralak silently stands at the marui door, head awkwardly tilted in an attempt to fit himself in such a tight space. 

“Hey, sissy.” Lo’ak throws an arm around your neck, patting your shoulder a few times as he walks you further inside and away from Ralak. “What’s up with the shadow?” He doesn’t even try to quieten his voice as he nudges his chin in your husband's direction.  

You force a little laugh, unwrapping his arm from around your neck so you can inch away back to your ‘shadow’. You back up until you bump into his solid build, making a muffled thump when you collide. He steadies you by the shoulders, lidded eyes flicking down to check that you’re okay. He can sense your nervousness. 

“I–we… have something to tell you guys.” You begin, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Where’s everyone else?”  

Lo’ak’s eyes squint, brows furrowing as the gears in his brain grind twice as fast to figure out what you could possibly be calling a family meeting for. “No fucking way. Already?” He blurts out when he finally puts two and two together. Your eyes widen when they dart over to him, catching sight of the shit eating grin plastered to his face.   

Fuck, is this skxawng going to spoil it for me? You think to yourself, apparently loud enough for Ralak to hear. He squeezes your shoulders before sliding his hands down the full length of your arms and letting go. “Mawey [calm].” He breathes, his head still hanging low. You look behind you, tilting your head up to meet his comforting gaze.  

“Hey, babygirl.” Jake’s voice snaps your attention back down, having you look your father in the eye. His smile is as wide as his arms as he approaches you for a hug.  

“Dad. Hey.” You whisper, returning the hug and snuggling into his chest. You bask in the moment, lingering onto how things are now—before you drop the bomb on him.  

“I missed ya.” Jake chuckles, rubbing your back. He finally lifts his head and sees your ‘shadow’ hovering a little closer than needed. “Jeez, let her breathe, boy. She’s just huggin’ her old man.” Ralak keeps his head hung and takes a small but noticeable step back. Jake gives you a quick peck on the head as he begins to pull away. “What have ya’ been up—”  

Jake cuts himself short, leaning back in to smell your hair. His eyebrows gather when he recognizes the familiar scent. Neytiri has smelled similarly a few times before. Jake grinds his teeth, scrunched brows and narrow eyes giving away his current state of mind. His hands slide down your arms, gripping then as he looks you dead in the eye. “Y/n. You got somethin’ to tell me?” 

“Dad–” You swallow down the knot in your throat, already getting choked up.  

Jake's lips purse into a thin line as his death-stare immediately averts to Ralak. And for what feels like an eternity, nothing but silence fills the room. The tension in the air is almost suffocating. Jakes eyeing Ralak down whilst Ralaks stare is locked on the way he’s holding you.  

You glance over at your brothers. One’s obviously got it figured out, arms crossed, shaking his head with a smug look on his face. And one is completely clueless—poor thing. You look back at your father who is now seething, leer averted back to you as he exerts all his energy into being patient.  

“What’s going on? Guys?” Neteyam breaks the silence with a worried tone to his voice. His eyes bounce from person to person, until they land on his brother.  

“He knocked her up.” Lo’aks whispers harshly, not even trying to be discreet. Neteyams brows raise and now he is, too, staring at you. You feel all the blood drain from your face and suddenly you’re extremely light in the head.   

Mortified is an understatement.  

Everyone is clearly waiting for you to confirm it. But you’re having such a difficult time saying the two silly little words. The pressure is on now, you could even see Ralak straining to hold his tongue. You finally muster up a cowardly nod, and immediately your fathers grip intensifies, squeezing your arms firm and tight. He’s looking down at you with eyes of disbelief and somewhat disappointment, frantically searching yours to see if this is really the truth. You let loose a low hiss, wincing when you feel the pinch of his grip.  

Not even another second passes when you hear the slap of your husband’s large hands grabbing ahold of your father’s wrists.  

“She is pregnant.”  

A deep, but low growl rips from Ralaks chest. In other words, ‘never lay your hands on a pregnant woman’. Ralak dwarfs Jake as he inches in a little closer, grasping his wrists just firm enough to send this message.  

“Yeah. Got it, bud.” Jake returns a growl through his teeth and tightened lips. He shifts his position slightly, eyes flicking down to acknowledge what his son in law is trying to get across. Nonetheless, Jake stands his ground. “Get your hands off me.”  

Ralak tries to regain his composure, but his protective instincts have just about gone haywire. The urge to protect has never been so intense before. It’s like his soul knows that there’s just more to protect.  

More at stake. 

Ralak looks down at your fathers hands once more, silently making his point clear. He holds eye contact with Toruk makto whilst he remains unmoving.  

“Lak…” You squeak a warning to your husband, who only flutters his jaw as a response. Lo’ak and Neteyam are on edge, both concerned that their father has a grip on you, but even more so that Ralak has a grip on their father. They watch intently, trying to decipher if and when they need to intervene.  

To everyone’s surprise, Jake exhales harshly through his nose and gently pulls away from you, but wrenches his wrists away from Ralak’s grasp. “Sorry, kid.” Jake spits an apology, readjusting his position to be directly in front of Ralak. “Care to explain how this happened so damn quick?” 

“Dad!” You shout in disbelief, wedging yourself back in between the two.  

“You know what? Don’t even answer that.” Jake snaps.   

“You know you are really no one to talk! Where’s mom? Mom!” You go on the tips of your toes, leaning from side to side to look for her behind both the two male na’vi.  

“‘xcuse me?” Jake purposely blocks your view by bobbing his head wherever yours goes. “I am still your father and you will not speak to me that—” Jake steps to the left to avoid Ralak and walk towards you. Ralak quickly adjusts himself to be the wall between you and your father, not allowing Jake the chance to even finish his sentence. Ralak is now looking down at Jake with a stoic expression, trying his best not to come off intimidating or challenging in any way.  

All to no avail.  

“You got a problem with me, boy?” Jake grumbles through his clenched jaw, getting in Ralaks face now.  

“No. Only keeping my word, sir.” Ralak simply responds.  

Jakes brought back to the very moment he made Ralak give him his word. His word that he’d never let a thing happen to his baby girl. The night you completed your iknimaya. The night he granted Ralak the permission to mate with you.  

The night Ralak took your virginity. 

Jake stalls for a few seconds, taken aback by Ralaks behaviour but a little impressed at the same time. Jake's expression softens upon realizing that Ralak is just protecting his mate—just as he does Neytiri, especially during her pregnancies.  

But there’s no way in hell that Jake will be the first one to back down here.  

“Mom!” You call for her once more, hoping that she’ll swoop in and save the day.  

Neytiri rushes in, hand on her hip where she keeps her dagger sheathed—worry and concern etched into her features. She analyses the situation, taking in the scene of her own mate standing face to face with yours. She glances over at you, seeing the panic in your eyes and the hand on your stomach that you didn’t even know you had placed there. Slowly walking up to the two male na’vi, she places a firm hand on her mates chest, pushing him away from Ralak. “Ma’ Jake. What is happening here?”  

Jake’s pressing his lips firmly together, not wanting to say the words. He shakes his head a little, huffing through his nostrils before placing a hand on his hip. His other hand extends in your direction, as if he were pointing out the obvious. Yet he remains choked up and speechless, his hand falling to his thigh as he gives up.  

Finally, he mumbles, “Go on. Tell her.”  

Neytiri looks back at you, eyes trailing back down to your hand that’s mindlessly resting on your stomach as she awaits for your answer. You feel the burn of her eyes, yanking away your hand when it becomes too much. Being the daughter of Mo’at, a tsahik, Neytiri needed nothing more than a quick glance and sniff to know what’s going on. “Is this true?”  

“Yes, mom. It is true. I am.” You say in a defeated tone of voice. Ralak shifts himself, settling close beside you now rather than in front of you. He always had an even greater respect for your mother.  

Neytiri’s expression only grows softer, until there's no trace of concern left in her face. Her smile is downturned but her eyes are bright, glistening with joy as she pulls you in for a warm embrace.  

“It is a blessing from Eywa, my child.”  

She pulls away from you, now looking over to Ralak. Neytiri lays a gentle hand on Ralaks upper bicep, “Seykxel sì nitram [congratulations] .” Ralak signs ‘I see you’ to his mother in law, exchanging a light hearted smile with her.  

It was no secret that Neytiri longed to be a grandmother. Her days of children are over now, although she was expecting her eldest, Neteyam, to give her a grandchild first. But Ralak — Ralak is a remarkable, mighty warrior and hunter. The olo’eyktans right hand man, and undoubtedly the best fisherman in the village.  

In fact, Ralak was one of the first people Neytiri took a liking to after she adjusted to the way of water. She always felt that he was a good suitor for her daughter.  

“Are you kiddin’ me? It’s barely been two months!” Jake scoffs, shaking his head.  

“And a day for us, Jake.” Neytiri tries her best to keep a calm, but firm voice. “They are a mated pair, they are having a family now. It is Eywa’s will.”  

Jake quiets himself, reflecting on his harsh ways. He sighs, loudly. His eyes finally glance down to what everyone in the room has been looking at, now staring at your protective hand that mindlessly lay over your womb once again. He grits his teeth, averting his stare to the ground, eyeing the charred wood of the fire pit. His tongue clicks as he parts his lips, muttering— 

“I know… I know, alright? She’s just—” He looks up at Neytiri, then Ralak, and then you. “She’s my babygirl.”  

It’s his way of saying, ‘I just want to protect my family.’ 

“Dad. I am but—but I’m not your baby anymore. I’m not a kid.” You croak, finding it hard to hold eye contact with him. “Your grandson is the new baby of this family.”  

Jake tries to fight the way his eyebrows scrunch together, it was like hearing about the news of his firstborn son all over again. He exhales slowly, nodding his head and extending his arms to hold you. His warmth envelopes you completely, leaving no room for any cold or harsh thoughts and feelings to linger.  

“You keep ‘em safe.” Jake's chin presses into the crown of your head as he mutters the words to Ralak. Ralak had always had a hard time understanding Jake's native slang, but this he understood— loud and clear.  

“Always.” Ralak answers firmly.  

Your safety has been, is and will always be his number one priority.  

Jake nods once, squeezing you a little tighter before letting go fully. “Seykxel sì nitram [congratulations], you two.” 

“Thank you, dad.” You smile whilst Ralak bows his head. Neteyam and Lo’ak finally come over for their hugs, making a comment of their own as they release you from their grasps.  

“I’m gonna teach him everything I know.” Lo’aks grin is unnerving and a little sinister, giving away the trouble that he’s already trying to get your son into.  

“Please don’t.” You joke back with your brother, even though you’re being dead serious.  

Neteyam jabs an elbow into his brother's rib cage, disciplining him for his mischief. “Agh — do not worry, Uncle TeTe will keep him in check.”  

“Well, that’s a relief.” You say softly with a smile on your face, “‘Uncle TeTe’. I like that.”  

“Hey, don’t forget about ‘Uncle Lo’Lo’.” Lo’ak chimes in.  

“Eh. Doesn’t have the same ring to it, you know? What do you think, lak?” You jester, looking up at him to be met with a slight smirk.  

“Very… hiyìk [strange; funny].” Ralaks smirk pulls at his lips a little more. “But, at least it is not ‘ak’-ak’.”  

You swear you hear a little chuckle from everyone in the room. All except Lo’ak, who is staring at Ralak with a deadpan expression, arms crossed defensively over his chest. It feels like an eternity passes until Lo’ak finally booms with laughter, extending his arm out to Ralak, who gaily reciprocates and meets Lo’aks’ with a smack.  

“I like this bodyguard of yours, y/n. He actually has a sense of humour.”  

You let loose a scoff and roll your eyes, about ready to wrap this whole thing up and lie down in bed. It’s seemingly obvious, seeing that everyone is giving you space as they take note of your restless body language and bowed shoulders.  

“If you are tired, you should rest.” Neytiri advises, just as you feel Ralaks hand tuck under your arm to support your weight. “Your body is working hard right now.” 

“Yeah, mom. I think I need to lie down for a little.” You mumble, leaning into your mate a little more.  

Your family practically ushers you out, encouraging you to get some rest and to get off your feet. Ralak walks close to you on the way home, keeping with the pace you set to the tee — only intervening with a hand to your hip when necessary.  

And when you finally slump into bed, your eyelids flutter shut before Ralak can settle himself beside you.  

——smut warning—— 

You rouse to Ralak drawing the curtain of your marui, blocking out the orange hue of the last eclipse. It dawns on you that you’ve slept out most of the day. You didn’t even realise you were so tired to begin with.  

“You should have woken me earlier. I slept out the day.” You mumble, sitting up in bed and lightly kicking off the sheets.  

Ralak turns around, surprised that you’re awake. He curses himself under his breath; he was hoping to keep you sleeping by drawing the curtains but instead he did the opposite.  

“You needed to rest.” He says, making his way over to sit on the edge of the bed. “You have been more tired recently.”  

“Yeah?” You snort, “…and what else have I been, sir know-it-all?” 

Ralak chuckles, his eyes falling to your stomach. “…a little more hungry.”  

You smile a little, remembering his fish wrap comment from earlier.  

But then you witness his half-lidded eyes glaze over with something of… wanton. It takes a second to realise that they’re no longer staring at your belly. They’re staring at your tewng [loincloth]. More specifically, the mound imprinting it.  

It’s the way your pussy is being so tightly squeezed by the thin cloth covering it. It’s the one thing that Ralak can’t help himself from indulging in admiring. Then his eyes snap away,  unexpectedly meeting yours. The stare he’s giving you has your thighs rubbing together and your lower tummy tingling.  

“…a little more tempting.” His voice is thick like honey, laced with lust and arousal.  

In every way. From the way you fill out your top more, to your scent—you’re becoming more  

irresistible the farther along you progress. Your heart beats a little harder between your ribs as you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth. His lecherous gaze is fixed, blue eyes piercing into yours. It’s been too long since he’s been inside you that it aches.  

But he’s been patient.  

Especially since the day he figured out you were pregnant. With the way you smelt he found it hard to keep his distance at times but nonetheless, he did it. But the truth is that you haven’t had penetrative sex since your cycles synced.  

To be clear, he took care of you just fine.  

Tending to your needs whenever you initiated intimacy with him but he never took it further than his fingers and mouth. After seeing you so battered by his own hands he found it hard to put you in a position that could garner a similar result again.  

For a while, he lost trust within himself.  

That he no longer had the capacity for self control. Not only did he feel like he didn’t deserve it, but he never expected you to return the pleasure either. He had already taken you on his own terms. Repeatedly.  

Ruthlessly.  

So when you ate one to many of his payoang niktsyey [fish wraps] — when the new earthiness of your scent wafted past his nose — he knew. He knew it stuck. He knew your womb swelled with his child as each day passed. And the urge to protect only swelled with it.  

He became even more gentle with you. Handling you with care when your skin softened and your hips became a little fuller. Ensuring he had excess when he cooked. Weaving an extra thick blanket for you to sleep with when he was off on duty with Tonowari.  

It ached most when he’d come home just to see it kicked off onto the floor, with you on your stomach and your leg propped up just right. Your loincloth would always shift to the side, just enough to expose plump folds that innocently peek through the seam of the thin fabric. Fuck, it more than ached. It made him tender. Throbbing in his own tewng.  

Just like now.  

He dares not to break the steady, intent stare. Or else he may steal another glance at the softness between your thighs. But he can see in your eyes that you feel similarly. You always give him that look before doing something ‘troublesome’. You break eye contact first, your eyes now landing on his tewng.  

Fuck. 

Your eyes widen a little when you catch sight of the growing, thick bulge in his loincloth. Your gaze locks onto it, taking in every detail. From the thick stripes on his thighs to the way the twine of his loincloth is cutting into his v-lines. You can even see the outline of the crown of his cock.  

His stomach rises and falls from his uneven breathing, and his abs pop out one by one as he leans further back—supporting his torso with his arms behind his back. He was never shy about his body, and he certainly isn’t now.  

“Then, why do you resist me?” Though it's a question, it doesn’t sound like one when the words drip off your lips. Your voice is soft and feigned with innocence, yet you're shuffling to get on all fours to crawl over to him. You truthfully don’t care for the answer, you knew that it would be the same old song—‘he doesn’t want to hurt you’. 

“I hurt you.” He says coldly—simply, glancing at the fading scar on your shoulder as you settle yourself on your knees beside him. He watches as your hand finds purchase on his knee, and slides up his thigh. “And now that you are with child… I—haah”. He’s cut short with a shaky breath and slight jolt when you cup his bulge with a bit of force. He looks down at your hand, dainty and slender, barely grasping half of what’s under his tewng.  

“You worry about me too much.” You mumble, more focused on the speed at which his cock pulses at. “Yet still, never yourself.” You feel around, sliding your palm up and down its length, earning a rough exhale from Ralak in return. His lidded eyes dart back over to you, taking in the sight of you almost bent over his lap.  

“That so?” His voice is thick and gruff.  

“Mhm. ‘m always telling you that, aren’t I?” You hum softly, slowly moving your hand further down between his legs, firmly cupping his balls. They’re heavy in your hand, hot to the touch and— 

Eywa. 

“They’re swollen.” You whisper breathlessly, your glossy eyes meeting him with concern. They dart back to his crotch, your hand now fumbling with the twine of his tewng, hurriedly trying to unravel the knot to get the suffocating fabric off him. 

“‘tis fine.” He winces as he spits out the words, watching you pinch him a little while struggling with the taut material.  

Ignoring his words, you continue with your task, a bit more gently now. And when the knot comes undone, the twine falls off his hips and the tewng loosens with it. You tug it off him and see that they’re not only puffed up but also darker in colour. They’re firm and pulled close to his body, perfectly round and stripes well-defined.  

Shamefully, it turns you on to see his balls so full.  

Just the thought of them being so swollen with his seed that they’re aching and throbbing to empty themselves inside you—fuck, it’s making your teeth grit. You sit back into the dip of your feet and stare as your breathing becomes heavier. The more you look the more you realize that they’re pulling tighter and tighter towards his core. You look up at him, a little surprised. Your arousal is etched into your features and it’s more than obvious in your body language. You want to know how they’d feel in your mouth. How they’d taste.  

If they’d even fit.  

Without another passing second you bend over his lap, tail high in the air and legs spread—the overpowering scent of your arousal filling the air. You shove your face between his thighs, inhaling deeply his musky scent. You let out a breath of desire, one that sounds nothing short of pleasure and satisfaction. He smells too good. You can’t help yourself but give his firm balls a quick, kitten lick. The giant above you holds back his chuckle, finding your behaviour cute and honestly a little amusing. Feeling like the butt of a joke, you firmly grasp his length and tug it upwards, causing his balls to pull even tighter.  

“Y/n.” He hisses your name, adjusting his legs to rid himself of the strained feeling. You wet your lips with a quick swipe of your tongue, and press your cheek against them. They’re hot—heating up a degree higher the more you tease him. Just as you pull your cheek away and manage to fit one of them into your mouth, his hand flies to the back of your head, balling your hair into his fist.  

“You need not to—” your tail curls and the tip of it tickles against his chest, “—haah…do this.” Ralak huffs out a sigh of frustration it seems, looking down at you with somewhat of a predatory leer. You pop off with a pwah, catching your breath and turning your head.  

You both share an intent stare with one another, one that feels more challenging than anything. He’s insistent that he’s undeserving of this, and you’re insistent that he must be taken care of. His grip loosens on your hair, until he lets you go completely.  

“Shh…shh.” You shush him, eyes narrowing as they remain locked onto him. You slowly slide off the bed one leg at a time, sinking to your knees and settling yourself between his legs—now looking up at him with doe-eyes. The sight before you has your heart palpitating, just like the sight of your face so close to his cock has his jaw clenching.  

Ralak quiets himself by locking his jaw, waiting patiently to see how this unfolds. It’s the first he’s seen you in this position, on your knees, between his. His cock twitches in excitement as clear, thick beads of precum begin to roll down its length. You swallow thickly at the sight, wrapping your dainty fingers around its girth to pull it close to your flushed lips.  

Ralaks ears flutter and his eyelids grow heavy, his chest heaving as he shifts his weight to the palms of his hands—sitting up.  

You open your mouth, strings of your saliva connecting your lips together. They break when you lower your head, taking the mushroomy, glistening head of his cock into your mouth. It’s mostly sweet, and a little salty too. The corners of your mouth sting as you accommodate his thickness, and you struggle to open your jaw wide enough to take him further into your mouth.  

His head dips forward, eyes slamming shut when he feels your wet, warm tongue press against the underside of his cockhead. His hand flies to your head again, gently cupping the back of your skull as he lets out a strained breath.  

Muffled noises vibrate through your nose as you swipe your tongue side to side against his head. It throbs against your tongue each time it hits that sensitive spot right down the middle. You suckle and swipe at the same time, using your hands to pump the rest of his length until you're grunting and snorting for air. You come up, gasping to fill your lungs.  

His hand quickly slides from the back of your head to cup the swell of your cheek. His calloused thumb swipes at a bead of saliva rolling down your chin and pops it back into your mouth. “What are you doing, my tanhì?” He whispers the rhetorical question, ensuring his voice is calm and gentle. It sounds as if he’s given up—given in.  

Without answering, you take him back into your mouth, locking your jaw once you open it as wide as you possibly can. You stick your tongue out as far as it’ll go and look up at him with eyes that begin to water. He looks down at you with a concerned expression, which morphs into one of astonishment. Your head goes lower and lower, taking inch after inch of his cock down your throat.  

The tears in your eyes finally spill over, and your nose begins to burn. Half of his length is down your throat and you can barely breathe, but the more his face grimaces from how good you feel around him, the more of him you urge yourself to take. You hold onto his hips, using them as leverage to shove more of him down your throat.  

“Hnng. Easy.” He groans roughly, pushing back against your shoves. “You are pregnaaah—mmn, you will make yourself sick, tanhì.”  

Lifting your hand from his hip, you smack away his hand and take him full hilt, his cock hitting the back of your throat, making it bulge. You stop for a second, slowly inhaling through your nose to focus on not gagging. You try moving the back of your tongue, slowly stroking the rest of his length with your hand.  

“Ah, shit.” He exhales shakily, his eyes rolling back before squeezing shut. He looks focused, like he’s concentrating on not cumming down your throat right then and there. Lips parted slightly, each breath he takes becomes louder and more raggedy. His thigh muscles tense up and his legs spread a little more, his hand finding its own way to the base of your kuru.  

Chest swelling with pride, you begin to bob your head and coat his cock with your sticky spit. The more slippery it gets the harder he has to fight back his choked grunts. The grip he has on your kuru is tightening, as if he were preparing himself to pry you off his cock before he fills your throat.  

Suddenly, his head sinks back and his jaw clenches—hard. You could feel it. The way his cock twitches. The way it’s heating up. The way it’s swelling in your mouth. Gurgled noises are escaping past his lips, and he purses them tightly together in attempts to keep himself quiet. His core flexes, and his hips start to stutter. His whole body jolts from how sensitive he’s getting, and finally he thrusts into your mouth, the pointed tip of his cock slamming into the back of your throat. 

You silently gag as his hips stammer into you and he’s fucking your throat in frenzied little movements. He’s trying his hardest to be as gentle as he possibly can.m, but your throat is so soft and tight around him. You swallow around his cock as you try to take a breath and suddenly his erratic movements still. 

“Y/n.” He lets loose a dying groan as his head slumps forward and his inebriated eyes struggle to open.  

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

His voice is gravelly and thick with restraint. You love to see him like this—hear him like this. You can’t help the wandering hand that’s making its way down to your soaked tewng. You try to touch yourself through the fabric, but have a hard time finding your clit with it covered like this. Exasperated, you shove your hand under the band of your loincloth and use all four fingers to rub sloppy circles into your puffy clit.  

Ralak is too immersed into this to even take note of your desperation. He’s too desperate himself. And if you don’t stop now, he really won’t be able to help himself. He begins tugging you by your queue, trying to pry you away from him. With each hasty swipe of your fingers you suck a little harder, as if you were trying to match your pleasure with your mates’. He pulls at your kuru even harder but you’re unbudging, firmly holding the base of his cock as you relentlessly suckle on the most sensitive part of his tip.  

“Stop.” He growls out of breath, finally looking down just to be tipped close to the edge by the sight below him. You look dumb and fucked out with his cock stuffed in your mouth, broken moans vibrating against his length as you franticly touch yourself.  

Finally, he yanks you off him with one swift, hard tug, his cock slapping his stomach when it pops out of your mouth. You land on your behind, legs spreading wide open as your fingers work away at your now throbbing clit.  

“Why? Can’t handle it?” You taunt him between pants and breathy, hoarse moans. Rather than answering he looks down at you with a cocked brow, kuru still in hand. Both of you stare at one another, shoulders and chests violently heaving as you both pant for air.  He’s raw and pulsing, twitching from the heartbeat in the crown of his cock.  

It's suspended mid air, jumping from how insanely aroused he’s left himself. Sticky beads of precum constantly roll down his shaft, one after the next and his balls are throbbing too. You get back on your knees and lunge for his cock again, tongue darting out to have another taste. He pulls you back, his hand still having a firm grasp of your kuru.  

“Is this what you are like when you have been bred?” Ralak huffs, a little taken aback by your lewd behaviour. His gaze shifts to your pathetic attempt to make yourself cum, and a smirk spreads across his lips. “So desperate.” Your silence has his brows scrunching together and him yanking your head back so you’re looking up at him. A growl rumbles in his chest as he slowly rises to his feet, bringing you to your knees with him—his hung cock swaying directly in your face.  

A smug little smile pulls at your lips when you realise you’re riling him up. You witness his jawbone flutter, his ears laying flat against his skull. He just wants to stuff his cock back down your throat to teach you a lesson. Instead he shoves your face into his crotch, your nose burying itself into the space between his cock and balls. He holds you there for a few seconds, just long enough that when he finally pulls you away you suck in a tiny gasp of air.  

Ralak sighs a low, lengthy breath, forcing himself to regain his composure. He can’t understand how such a little thing can be so feisty. To act as if he couldn’t pin you down and take you without a scuffle. Truthfully it only makes him even harder. It only further proves that you are really the woman for him.  

Slowly bringing you to your feet, he keeps your face pressed to his body so that your bottom lip drags along his torso as you make your way up. Your hand is still stuffed inside your tewng, slick fingers working hard to find their way back to your clit. With his free hand he grabs a hold of your hip, and steadily backs you up against the wall.  

When your back hits the wall, a shaky breath is expelled from your lungs. He lets go of your kuru and rips your hand from your tewng. He then wedges his knee between your legs, putting pressure on your clit, making it flutter uncontrollably. His movements are quick but gentle, filled with purpose and desire. His eyes dart back and forth between yours as he searches them, his face just inches away from yours.  

“Answer me, little one.” He whispers into your mouth.  

“Yes.” Your answer is breathy and short.  

Ralak heaves a heavy sigh.  

“I am trying to be gentle…” He speaks the words through gritted teeth, using both hands on your hips to spin you around to face the wall. He lowers his head until his lips graze against the tip of your ear. “…but you make it so hard for me.” He growls, using the perfect amount of force to pin you against the wall with his body. His large hand swiftly moves to your lower stomach, cupping it to act as a protective barrier between the wall and your budding womb. 

“No need to be. I can handle you just fine.” Your lips are pressed tight to your teeth, face flush against the smooth surface, making it hard for you to speak clearly. “Pregnant or not.” 

Ralak chuckles.  

“Is that right?” He speaks in an almost condescending tone, hurriedly tugging down your loincloth just enough to get access to your cunt. Without warning, he bends his knees a little to align your pelvises and then shoves his cock between your slickened, warm folds. “Oh tanhì, you are soaked.” His voice quiets down into a hushed whisper, “All from sucking my cock?”   

A mewl splits your lips just as all the blood rushes to your face, staining it a bright pink. Your pussy clenches around nothingness only causing more of your slick to ooze on his cock. Your breath turns shaky, tail swishing wildly behind you. You can’t move even if you wanted to. He’s got you pinned down, quickly reminding you of his strength. And had it not been for his hand on your abdomen you would be completely plastered to the wall and taken on his terms.  

“Tsk-tsk…Have you no shame?” Ralak tuts, holding you still. “Or must I give you a lesson on self-restraint?”  

Despite his cockiness you can sense the urgency in his body language and in his voice. You can feel it in the way his hips stutter, as his cock slides back and forth between your pussy lips. His own desperation. The desire to be inside you. The need for release.  

“Go on then, karyu.” You moan softly, causing his grip on you to loosen for a millisecond. Hearing that name brings a feeling of nostalgia. Of lust. You push back into him, your slippery hole trying to suck him inside with a few quick movements of your pelvis. “But I know you’ve been desperate… desperate to fuck your numeyu.” 

“Oh, little one.” His chuckle is dark and depraved, his protective hand stiffening as if he were preparing it for what's to come. “Yet you are trying your hardest to take me inside you.” He licks your ear lobe to tip, whispering, “so cute.” 

“Fnawe’tu [coward].” You mutter under your breath, steadying your feet to ground yourself.  

Ralaks ears flicker and stand tall, then immediately lay flat to his head—his brow cocking in astonishment. His smirk grows wider, the heat in his chest spreading to his extremities. Now that pushes him over the edge.  

“Say that again, numeyu.” He challenges you in a growl, angling his hips so his weeping cockhead prods at your entrance. He ensures not to let the buck of his hips win, keeping you empty and yearning.  

“Haah… afraid to take what’s yours.” You purr, rising to the tips of your toes to try sink him inside you. “Fnawe’tu—” 

Smack. 

The sound of his swollen balls making contact with your puffy clit is almost as loud as your broken gasp. You smile open mouthed as he holds his position balls deep inside you, firmly pressing the tip of his cock into your cervix. He’s grinding his back teeth, digging his chin into your shoulder to quell the rumble of his chest from how tight you’re squeezing his cock.  

You whine from the fullness of him stuffed inside your cunt, his unmoving hips sending a clear message of dominance. He’s hunched over you, body weight pinning you mercilessly against the wall, hand over your womb to keep your unborn safe—as promised. Still being gentle enough.  

But you want him to lose it.  

To fuck into you like he were in rut again. To use your pussy like a fucktoy to satiate his own greed and self pleasure. He deserves that much, for being such a competent and loving man to you. Yet it seems the only way to bring that out of him is to play dirty.  

“Fnawe’tu [coward].” You repeat shakily. 

Smack. 

Another deep and hard thrust into your sloppy cunt. He lets loose the rumble in his chest this time, bearing his canines and putting most of his weight on you now. Lips pressed tightly together, your whimper is muffled and outright pathetic, pinched brows giving away the pleasure rippling through you. Still, he remains unmoving, undeniably making it clear who has the most leverage here. But that doesn’t really matter to you—you’re getting what you want, one way or another.  

Right?  

“Voìk si, little one [behave].” Ralak hisses, fighting the inner conflict within him.  

“Haa—” Your laugh that follows is a little sinister, open mouthed and smug. Hands pressing into the wall you push off its surface, sinking him deeper inside you. “No.”  

“Alright.” His voice is husky, thick with confidence and temperance.  

With a rough, quick tug, his cock slips out of you with a squelch, hanging freely between his legs. Your slick mixed with his precum slowly dribbling off his tip and onto the floor between your pointed feet. You fall to the flat of your feet, panting and whining from the sudden emptiness.  

“W-Wait.” You squeak, hastily getting back on the tips of your toes to stuff him inside you again. “Please.”  

“What was that?” Ralak asks, voiced feigned with innocence. “A little louder.” 

“Please.” You barely whisper, backing up on him.  

“Come now, tanhì.” His hand slips from your hip to grip his cock. Giving it a few strokes he teases your cunt with his cockhead and you instinctively shimmy down. Hips snapping back to prevent you from taking him inside, he dips his head so his mouth is next to your ear and husks, “You can do better than that.”  

“Please!” You moan loudly in desperation, reaching down to your knees to unfetter yourself from your tewng [loincloth].  

“Please, what?” Ralak spits the last word through pursed lips, ready to give you exactly what you want if you just ask for it nicely.  

“Please put it back inside.” You beg pathetically, finally getting the knot of your tewng undone. “Please, fuck me.” 

“Ahh, there’s my good girl.” Ralak praises you with a grin, sinking his cock into your warmth at a leisurely pace. His breathing stutters for every inch that penetrates you. “Was that so hard?”  

“Fuck.” You moan in relief, spreading your legs wider. He’s tamed you and he knows it. “No.” 

“No…?” Ralak says it like a question, hissing when he bottoms out in your cunt.  

“No, karyu.” You answer coyly, voice faltering from the pressure of his cockhead pushing into your cervix.  

“Agh—haah” Ralak lets out a gruff grunt in response, his hips now snapping back and forth out of his control. He’s huffing and puffing next to your ear, pumping his cock in and out of you in a frenzy of need. Swollen balls repeatedly slapping against your clit, it’s almost impossible to hold back the gurgled noises escaping your throat.  

“Fuck—so—fuckin’—deep—fuck.” The curses are punched out of you as he relentlessly smacks into you again and again.  

“Lì’fyaz [language.]” Ralak chides in a growl, hand slipping down to pull back the hood of your clit—taut.  

The continuous sting of your clit has your legs shaking and the way his cockhead is repeatedly stimulating your sweet spot has your eyes rolling back into your head. It’s almost too much all at once yet you yearn for more. Your cunt clamps down around him, especially when the tension becomes so tight you feel your stomach double-knot. Ralak hums when you tighten around him, only making him rut harder into you.  

Pulling back, he glances down at you sucking him in, your tail curled tight to your back and his cock plunging in and out of your pussy. He can see just how tight you are as your pussy walls grip his girth mercilessly. And with the protective hand on your abdomen, he can feel each thrust against the palm of his hand. It makes his chest swell with pride— 

You carry his child yet still take him so well.  

“Oeÿa tsantu [my good girl]” Ralak slips into his native tongue, panting in an accent as thick as tree sap. “Oeÿa numeyutsyìp [my little student]” 

Ralaks cock heats up inside you, heating your core along with it. It’s the same familiar sensation you feel before he provides you with your release. The feeling that keeps your eyes squeezed shut and breath shallow. He knows your close and slows his thrusts like he usually does, fucking you a little harder rather than faster, angling his pelvis so he’s right in your swelling g-spot.  

Your hands fly behind you, grasping at whatever’s available as your orgasm washes through you. You gush all over your thighs, cum dribbling down your legs to your feet, some spattering on Ralak as he fucks and holds you through your high. It’s sudden and uncontrollable, leaving you sputtering out nonsense and your legs shaking violently beneath you.  

“There it is. Good muntxate [wife].” Ralak huffs with a smirk, relishing in the quick, feverish flutter of your cunt on his cock. His voice is shaky from his uneven rhythm now that he can finally allow himself to finish too. “Love—hng—when you cum for me, you—ahh, haah—know that?” 

He begins grinding to you, shoving you further into the wall as he focuses on his own climax. He uses his feet to kick your legs closed, and pulls out of you, stuffing himself between your thighs. He’s groaning and growling, hunched over you with bent knees and flushed, flattened ears. Skin slapping against skin, he humps at your thighs, thick cock sliding back and forth over your still pulsing clit.  

His cockhead continuously pokes out between your folds, tip oozing and oozing with precum. Both his hands fly to your hips, gripping them with force as his thrusts become almost violent. You struggle to keep yourself standing as his hips smack into you repeatedly, your body jolting with each thrust. He gives you one last, harsh thrust, holding you still against him as you feel his cock throb wildly between your thighs. You look down to see his huge load shoot out in thick, white ropes. He’s grumbling behind you, giving your thighs an extra few uncontrollable thrusts as he peaks in his high.  

Finally you fall to the flat of your feet, his arms instantly snaking around your waist to support your weight entirely.  

“I told you no taunting, tanhì.” He’s referring to the time he opened up about his first rut, “Next time, you ask nicely. Tslam? [Understand?]” Ralak says breathlessly.  

“Sran, oeÿa karyu. tslolam. [Yes, my teacher. I understand].” You blubber, fucked out and jaded.  

—— 

[pparadiselost]

Hello, if im not bothering you can you write about oliver aiku? I love him sm

good cop, bad cop.

oliver aiku x fem reader oliver has a thing for play pretend. warning(s): nsfw, corrupt cop x criminal dynamic, roleplay, blowjob, sexual transaction minors do not interact.

“officer, i know i’ve been a baaaaaad girl,” your words roll off of your tongue in buttery waves, your voice hiking up a faux pitch. “but do you really have to punish me? i didn’t even misbehave that much…”

once in a blue moon, you have to admit that your dear boyfriend could come up with not-so-bad ideas. his brain only ever works when either sex or soccer are involved, but you’d be damned if his ideas weren’t good. they might be a bit basic, but you’d also be lying if you said that dressing up and doing a little lewd roleplay didn’t get you excited too.

the slutty prisoner costume he got for you is a bit tight against your body, but the stretchy material clings to your skin and makes it so that you can’t hide any of your curves from oliver’s wandering eyes. you couldn’t even get the zipper on the chest to go over your breasts fully, so you gave up, letting your tits almost tumble out of the whorish costume. it wasn’t like they’d stay covered up that long anyway, and you decided it was better to spare yourself the trouble of struggling to get it up all the way. a pair of plastic handcuffs clink against one of your wrists, hanging limply from your arm.

“shit… y’know how things are.” your boyfriend shrugs. his own costume is a cheap imitation of a police officer. it’s also a bit too small for his tall and built body, but just like you, he hasn’t bothered buttoning his shirt up all the way. his broad chest peeks through the undone front, and a sloppily done tie swings from his collar. a sloppy smile decorates his lips, and he tips up his hat a bit to get a better glimpse at you. “the law is the law, girlie. it wouldn’t be fair for me to let you off without punishment just ‘cuz you’re pretty.”

you pout, and you saunter a bit closer to oliver. you stick your lips out, making sure his eyes catch over the plump flesh of your mouth. you flutter your eyelashes coyly at him. “you think i’m pretty, officer? c’mon… surely there has to be something i can do to get out of trouble. i’d do anything, sir. anything.”

a twinge of warm pride flickers inside your chest. you think you’re doing a pretty good job at playing the role of the minx-like prisoner, willing to seduce your way out of trouble. oliver leans back in his seat, enough to make the front legs lift off the ground for a few moments. he pretends to mull it over, and he rubs at his eyes with one of his big hands. he’s also good at playing the role of the sleazy cop, pretending as if he’s split between choosing his vices or his honor, and you watch him with bated breath.

“anything, you say? can i hold you to that?” he laughs bitterly. he sits forward, letting the chair fall back onto the ground with a loud ‘thump.’ you swallow thickly.  the two of you both know how this roleplay is going to end, but you still want to appreciate the finer details in it. 

his mismatched eyes are honed onto your face. he had been mentally undressing you with his gaze for a long time now, the boyish glee in his eyes telling you that he was eating up your appearance. but now, that gleam in his eyes feels darker, more wanton, almost as if he’s placing the ball back into your court. 

the choice is for you to make.

you rub your thighs together exaggeratedly, and you lick your lips. you nod, bobbing your head up and down eagerly. your tits bounce alongside with your movement. “yes, officer! i mean it. i would do anything.”

your mouth waters in anticipation as oliver clicks his tongue, and the sloppy grin that appears on his lips only means one thing. he spreads his legs slightly, and with one hand, he starts to undo the belt buckle around his waist. with a few metallic clinks, it slides out of his hand and off of his body, landing on the ground without much fanfare. he gestures in between his legs, patting the inside of thighs.

“you know what to do. on your knees, sweetheart,” he purrs. you walk closer to him, sauntering over and making sure he gets a good look at your standing form. you sink down to your knees, and you sensually slide your hands up oliver’s thighs. a low groan bubbles up from the back of his throat, catching on his teeth as he lets out a deep exhale.

he has a perfect view of your tits from where he leans back, and he happily ogles at your chest. your hands ghost over his clothed crotch, humming to yourself when your fingers rub provocatively against the visible bulge. leave it to him to get this horny in an instant, and your cunt clenches weakly at the thought of his heavy, hung cock. oliver groans quietly when you continue to rub him through his police officer costume, but he doesn’t rush you. 

“shit, pretty girl… are you teasin’ me right now? you’ve got some nerve,” he chuckles. you smile up at him innocently, and you move your face closer to his tent. you place your cheek against his covered cock, and you coyly rub your face all over his dick. oliver throws his head back and lets out a moan, his breathing turning shallow as he dissolves into a fit of airy laughter.

but you know better than to let the control get to your head. after all, you’re nobody but a desperate inmate who needs a way out, and the best way to do that is to seduce the hedonistic officer in front of you and be on your merry way. you grip the zippers of his pants and carefully coax it down, making sure to take your time so that you could drive the man in front of you even crazier with desire.

his cock strains heavily against his boxers, practically begging to be freed and pleasured. your eyes widen with glee when you see how hot and big it is just for you. your core twists with arousal knowing that you can get him acting up in this way, and you continue to stroke him through his underwear.

“are you this hard already, officer?” you giggle, feeling his dick twitch through the thin fabric of his boxers. a small damp stain marks where his tip is, and you slip your fingertips under the waistline of his underwear. you don’t take his cock out just yet, and you trace a heart pattern into the skin of his waist, feeling his muscles and abs contract underneath your hands. “do you want me that badly, sir? my, i’m kind of flattered…”

“hah… i wouldn’t take it as a compliment just yet, sugar,” he breathes. his chest rises and falls, and he lifts his hand to tap his pointer finger against your cheek. “you haven’t even gotten started yet.”

“oh, i will, sir. i’m only taking my time. i’m not gonna be sloppy, especially if you’re doing me a favor.” your voice is sugary sweet, pitched into a girlish sing-songy tone that you know he loves. “nothing but the best for you, right?”

he gives a snort, and he nods in faux defeat. “‘m not one to argue with a pretty girl. work your magic then.”

you eagerly yank down the front of his boxers, and you guide his fully erect cock out into plain view. oliver hisses through his gritted teeth, sucking in a sharp inhale as the cool air hits his throbbing, hot length. you waste no time, and you purse your lips as you watch his dick twitch and spring to full length, the sheer girth and size making your stomach flip inside and out. gosh, oliver really did look like he was a sculpture of a greek god come to life.

you spit into your palms, lubricating your skin. you grip the base of his cock with both hands, and you lean in, blowing a gust of cold air against the sensitive tip. oliver gasps, his hips unconsciously bucking against your palm. 

“...fuck! fucking hell—you’re really testing me, girlie,” he mutters, the seedy grin on his mouth only widening. “man, i know you’re trying to get yourself out of a mess, but you’re really going to get in trouble for acting like that.”

“i know, sir. but i can’t help it. it’s just soooo much fun!” you giggle. you start stroking him with a steady but slow pace, making sure you cop a good feel of his mouth-watering size. you let one hand slide all the way to the top of his dick. you rub your palms down on his cockhead, and oliver stiffens under your touch, another guttural groan spilling from his lips. you continue jerking him off, letting your fingers rub all over his sensitive underside and over any prominent veins, and you don’t let your eyes wander from his face for even an instant.

you want to relish the little power you hold over him. you love seeing his expressions change, fully relinquishing himself to the feeling of your smaller hands wrapped around his big cock, enjoying the perverted feeling of playing such a corrupt role and taking advantage of his position to have his way with a girl as precious as you.

“do you like how i feel, sir?” you goad him slightly, picking up the pace. you’re pumping your hands up and down at a fairly moderate pace, and you squeeze him whenever your hands hit the base of his cock. you do your best to mimic the way your own cunt would feel when it’d be wrapped around him, trying to bring him closer and closer to his climax. his balls clench up when he feels your soft hands milking him. he feels so awfully selfish, but that kind of desperate guilt makes your handjob feel so much better.

 “yeah… feels great. but-,” his chest heaves, but before you can get too comfortable, he sits up slightly. he grabs the top of your head with just one hand, and he guides your face towards his heady cock. your eyes widen when he positions you to be perfectly eye level with his drooling slit, your hands frozen around his thick inches.

his tongue darts out from his mouth, and he drags it over his lips. he nudges you closer towards his cock, just until his tip presses up against your mouth, threatening to break past your lips. “-i feel like we can do a bit better than that.”

it doesn’t take a genius for you to figure out what exactly oliver wants. you part your lips and let your tongue out, and you lick tentatively at his tip. lavishing his cockhead with small, kitten licks, you gaze up at him with your eyes blown wide open. his grip on your hair tightens, but he doesn’t force you to take more of his cock in your mouth. you regain a bit of your courage, and you follow the heat that throbs in between your hips. 

“yeah, that’s it… use that naughty mouth of yours,” oliver urges you. you start pumping his cock again, and you take more of him into your mouth, letting the broad part of your tongue envelop his tip. you lick at his slit, pressing your tongue against it and moaning quietly when you can feel the taste of his pre-cum spread across your tastebuds. it’s salty and noxious against your mouth, yet it makes your head spin with desire. he’s just so manly, and feeling his cock pushing and straining against your mouth does something to your body. 

you close your lips around his width, and moving your hands in tandem, you start to suck on the top part of his cock. you swirl your tongue around his length, making sure to generously coat his sensitive organ with your spit. you want your mouth to be everything oliver likes: warm, tight, and wet, just like your tight pussy. oliver keeps moaning, and his noises urge you to keep going. you want him to feel good. he’ll definitely make it worth your while if you do.

“shit, fuck- fuuuuuck- yeah, right there, pretty-,” he groans. you whimper when he tugs at your hair. the sting makes your eyes tremble, but you hold your ground and take more of him in your mouth. you swear you’ve only put about half of his cock into your cheeks, and yet you can feel him easily hitting the back of your throat. you pump the rest of him with your hands, working in rhythm to stimulate the feeling of thrusting into you. 

he laughs again, his voice hoarse. you shift your hips, suddenly aware of how empty your cunt feels. you want his thick rod ramming into your walls. you want his cock to fuck your brains out.

“y’know, if the whole ‘sleep your way out of prison’ thing doesn’t work, i really wouldn’t mind having a thing like you around- god knows i could use blowjobs like these more often…” he tries to shove your face down a bit further, and you clench your eyes shut as your hands shift, inviting more of his dick into your tight mouth. 

you’re being so sweet and obedient to him. your breathing is constricting, and you have no choice but to fully focus on regulating your airflow through your nose. you hollow out your cheeks. he’s starting to invade your throat, and it takes everything in you not to gag on his cock. you want to treat him well, to make him proud, to show him that you can take it.

he whistles softly, guiding your face with your hair to set up the rhythm that he likes. “there we go. there’s my pretty girl. keep up with me, yeah?”

your mouth feels fucking heavenly around him. you’re clearly struggling, torn between picking your own comfort or pleasuring him, and it makes oliver go wild. his stomach swirls and pounds with arousal, and he keeps clenching his abs, fully savoring the lewd feeling of your tongue and mouth drooling around him. he could get this scene tattooed on him somewhere, to show you off on his body forever. your throat won’t stop constricting around his girth, and every time you shakily swallow, it’s like you’re sucking him in even further.

his hips wantonly thrust against your shaking hands and mouth, and you choke around him. strings of drool escape the corner of your mouth, your jaw locking place as you struggle to accommodate entirely to his obscene size. lewd squelching fill your ears as oliver fucks your mouth, and in your own confused stupor, you still manage to do your best for him. you sloppily slide your tongue all over his cock, sucking and drinking up everything he’s willing to give you like it’s a sugary aphrodisiac. 

all of your senses are forcibly overwhelmed by him, and you love it. what little resistance your hands can put up against him yanking you down towards his crotch and him thrusting into you does nothing to spare you. he grits his teeth, grunting more like an animal than a human, as he fucks your mouth. his pace picks up quickly, and he’s beginning to manhandle you.

“hah- take it all into your mouth, pretty. don’t be fucking shy- i know what you’re capable of. show this bad cop here how desperate you are, wont’cha? yeah—lemme break in that throat of yours, teach you how to suck cock properly-,” his eyes glimmer with a kind of feral possessiveness that makes you shiver with heat, “that way you can actually learn how to pleasure a man. that brings me to two favors for you, doesn’t it?”

you let go of his cock, pushing against his hips as he bucks wildly into your mouth. hot tears cling to your eyelashes, threatening to spill over your waterline. you must look so, so crazy right now, with your hair all disheveled and your face crumpling to the sexual whims of your boyfriend. the affection that brews in his eyes is tinged with something poisonous and addictive, and it makes you salivate even more than you already are. 

his cockhead continues pounding into the back of your throat, making all of your senses recoil and grimace. but you want him to keep going, to force the shape of your esophagus into that of his cock, to exist for nothing but him. it’s a bit simple and a bit foolish, but stupidity be damned, it was hot.

his balls keep pressing up against your chin, and his pubes tickle your nose. he’s gripping onto your hair for dear life, maneuvering you more like you were a sex toy than a girlfriend, and the wild and sloppy pace has you seeing stars. his cock won’t quit twitching and burying itself as deep as it can into your mouth. 

“fuck- fuck…! jesus fucking christ, fucking god-,” his grip on you is blindinly painful, but you like it. the pain grounds you as he abuses your throat. “gonna fucking cum, princess- you’re gonna swallow it all, you hear? yeah, guzzle down all of my cum, swallow it like you can’t live without it.”

so he’s close. you brace yourself, his full balls smacking against your mouth and chin, stained with drool and precum and all the other nasty things he’s doing to you. you’ve lost your ability to think properly a long time ago, your thoughts clouded over with just oliver. your cunt beats with pleasure at the idea of drinking down his cum, the cum that should have been filling up your empty pussy instead. but this isn’t too bad; it’s still all yours for the taking. you can work with that. 

“yeah- swallow it all, you bad, bad girl-!” 

his cock convulses deep against the confines of your gullet, and you nearly choke when you feel the spurts of hot, sticky cum filling up your throat and windpipe. you get to work trying to gulp it down, feeling it invade and force itself down your esophagus while coating the insides of your cheeks. you swallow and swallow the best you can, feeling the loss of air getting to your head. cum seeps out from your stretched lips, and it spills down your exposed chest, pooling in your lap and staining your glistening tits.

oliver weakly lets you go, collapsing with a huff back into his seat. you slump over yourself, barely grounding yourself. oxygen finally floods your deprived lungs, and you cough ungracefully as you take in shaky inhales. you wipe half-hazardly at your face, trying to clear it of the tears, snot, spit, and semen all over your lips and chin. your vision is blurry, but you know it’ll come back to you soon so you stay put as you are.

“oh fuck…! are you alright?” oliver’s gentle voice breaks you of your thoughts. he’s the first to break character. 

you lift your head, seeing your boyfriend sitting up from his half-laying-half-seated position on his chair. he looks spent; his police officer costume is also stained with cum, and his softening cock lays limply across his crotch. sweat dots his brow. his features are far gone, still hazy from his climax, yet they hold the same boyish affection he reserves only for you.

you swallow again, your stomach swirling dangerously when you continue to taste his sticky cum coating your tongue. “i’ll live. you’ve been rougher with me before.”

he raises an eyebrow, and he wolf-whistles at you. you scoff at him, but you don’t stop the smile that blossoms on your fucked-out face. leave it to him to make you laugh like that right after fucking your face without any regards to your well-being. the duality makes you weak in the knees, and if you had the stamina for it, you’d suck his dick like that again in a heartbeat. 

“so, I take that to mean that you’re still up for some more?” as if he read your mind, he offers up a suggestion to you. you wipe at the cum that’s starting to dry on your chest, shooting him a curious look.

you could do one of two things. you could nip this in the bud right here and now, end this roleplay session and go clean yourself up in the bathroom. you could ask your boyfriend to open up his wallet for you and order you some nice take-out for the night, and you could turn on a sappy romance movie on the tv and cuddle up with him for a laidback date night. your tired mouth muscles rejoice at the thought of it, and your heart swells with affection.

but that’s so fucking boring—your entire lower half of your body, the part that crawls and writhes and demands relief from the arousal you’ve been ignring this whole time, would never be satisfied with an easy alternative. you want to be ravished, want this corrupt officer to take advantage of the prisoner that’s running out of options, to mold your body against the needs of your boyfriend.

“why, officer?” you quip back. the title makes oliver’s grin stretch even wider, clearly thrilled that you’re willing to play along. you make a show of licking your lips again, to lap up any of his cum that you might have missed. “was that not enough for you? should i try something else? jeez, wasn’t a pretty girl giving you a blowjob enough to convince you? …ugh, fine. tell me what you want me to do.”

“feeling a bit feisty still, eh? i could work with that—yeah, a little more lovin’ would be really nice,” he whispers. his features are clouded over with a newfound lust towards you. he gestures for you to move in closer, and you scoot towards him, letting him lean down and cup your face. he hooks his fingers underneath your soiled chin, tilting your face up so that your gaze locks with his. you hold your breath as he makes sure you can’t look away or even escape from him. you muster up the best doe-like eyes you can, softening your gaze and making yourself more inviting that you already are, only for him. your boyfriend simply lets out a throaty chuckle, “so that’s one hole down, sugar. whaddya say about letting mr. bad cop have a try at the other ones?”

KINKTOBER 2023—le premier jour.

[ebonyslasher]

Spicy Alphabet: Sephiroth

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Y/n, Clean up time~. And he expects to be spotless as he reclines as you wipe him. Make sure to apply lotion, you absolute beauty. Sephiroth will hold your hand, but let him cover his hair first. And yes, that is your big bonnet he stole.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Sephiroth: HIM.

You: Hands. Your fingers were neat and graceful. Watching them wander his perfect body was entertaining. The feel against his soft skin was divine. Bonus points for you if you get them done. Oh y/n, that's fucking arousing. Wrap them around his heavy cock.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Hentai level cum. Purposefully blue balls himself for a colossal load. Sephiroth will hold your legs open to watch his semen flow out of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

While crushing on you, Sephiroth would alter reality many times to pretend you were coming on to him, flirting, being sensual, calling him god.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He tried to be a whore, but didn’t work out. Too standoffish in his youth. Found out he was too picky with his partners. He has a select few (his former close friends) he’s had experience with.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

This

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

His version of being goofy is his dry-ass humor… and it's not for the bedroom. You are not amused.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Carpet matches thankfully. Y'all know he's groomed to the gods, the fuck.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Weird to see him intimate. You’ll get moments here and there. Does care, it just shows differently. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

His favorite way is spying on you while doing something regular and he jacks off without you knowing. Sometimes he will actually be somewhere near, but you'll never know

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Worship, size difference, affectionate cruelty, energy play, latex, mind control, mutual masterbation, tease and denial

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Any alternate reality you want, the possibilities are endless. The moon? An ice cave? In a lavish mansion? Tell him what you want.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Call him god. Parade around in a latex outfit. A sucker for taking care of his hair and offering servitude cutely, looking up at him with those pretty eyes. Although, it's pleasing to win submission with a fight.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing that will negatively affect his appearance, if you stop worshipping him, mention anything about Shinra, talk about Cloud and his posse positively

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Would rather receive. Chocking you with his cock is an experience he adores too much. Seeing your cute brown ass struggle to take it in is too much fun. He'll give if you've earned it. Better do a good job to get that y/n.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast, rough, with some sensuality.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Huge Fan. He's passionate about catching you off guard. Wild man.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yeah, he's down! A powerful being like him can do anything you desire. Ask him for permission and he won't turn you down. He’d fuck you in front of Cloud if he wanted to.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

God level. Can go all day. Literally, you've had to gleefully suffer through a full day of sex. Sephiroth was unbelievably horny that day.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Yes. He owns a few toys and will use them. He likes to roleplay, so he has props for specific scenes.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Head Unfair Bitch in Charge. Sephiroth will leave you unsatisfied if he is not pleased with your performance. AND THEN!!!! Continues to toy with you and edge you at irregular opportunities. He's laughed hearing you dog him out in your mind.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Silent. He will either talk to you or smoothly give orders.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sephiroth will utilize telekinesis to project provocative imagery in your head. Him stroking his massive dick, pre-cum dropping amazingly from his tip. Fingering you open, stretching enough so you could see the inside of yourself. It pleases him to see you stop, your pretty eyes glazing over.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

8.5

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Varies too much to determine a pattern. Good luck and watch out.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Does he even need sleep (serious question)??? He won’t  

[sunthelittlesun]

꒰⊱¡ Intro ❜ ☀️ ೃ୭

Both the creator and the character are minors, so I ask not to ask strange things (mainly nsfw), my main account is @taethesun

This is a roleplay account that seeks to interact with more people (oc's, AU, original blocktales characters, etc)

Basic DNI; pedophiles, zoophiles, nsfw blogs

/ᐠ. ｡.ᐟ\ Sun General Loreˎˊ˗

He was born on October 12 in the low neighborhoods of Bizville as the day was starting. His mother named him Soleil, believing the child would bring them good luck.

After Soleil's birth, everything went downhill. His father started gambling a lot of money, causing them to nearly go bankrupt, leading to constant fights between him and Soleil's mother.

Soleil became the main topic of argument and, being blamed all the time in his home, he began to slowly disconnect from everything. He started a small hobby, liking to watch the sun and stars, studying them with the big dream of becoming a famous and respected astrologer worldwide.

After an intense argument between his parents, he decided to leave for his favorite hideout, a small clearing covered by trees where he could enjoy the sunset.

He pondered his problems while the sun was his only company. He spoke to it, and in that moment, a small ball of light appeared in his hands.

"I adopt you as mine," a calm voice said, and in the blink of an eye, Soleil had changed. His clothes and body transformed, and now he wore a suit like a prince with a small cloud tail that he could transform at will.

Just as the stars began to appear in the night sky, some of them started falling like shooting stars toward where he was.

He closed his eyes in fear, but upon feeling a small weight on his head, he opened them to see the stars moving over his head like a small crown with a moon brooch.

From then on, everything changed. The sun and stars adopted him as their protector and representative.

Innocent, pure, childlike, dreamy, the stars playfully said of the little one

His name changed. He was now called "Sun," the bearer of the sun, or also "Little Sun"

💫. ⋮ Friend and Cory .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ (oc's and AU of @niko-aspin)

After running away from home, he decided to explore the main area of Bizville. While looking for a place to sit and eat, he met a strange person with a purple hat looking somewhat sad, and next to him, someone with a black cap drinking water.

He approached and offered some sushi to cheer up the person with the purple hat. After introducing himself, a small friendship began between the three, which grew to the point of becoming platonic siblings.

From that moment, Sun stuck to them like glue. Wherever Cory and Friend went, he followed, and vice versa

☀️. ⋮ Lovetales .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

Sun is naturally curious. He loved to explore, and while reading in the library, he discovered the frozen kingdom of Blackrock

He went to Friend to tell him about his adventure to the kingdom and to prepare. He said goodbye to his brothers and began his journey

After "defeating" Soft King he meets Player on the outskirts of the kingdom with the goal of helping you rescue Builderman.

: Data : ⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )

His main weapon is a sword given by the stars, although he doesn’t use it much since he hates fighting and prefers to help by healing wounds He’s good at making desserts, but he gets easily distracted, so sometimes they turn out badly. Once, he almost set the kitchen on fire because he forgot the cookies in the oven… He has ADHD and is not a fan of loud noises or talking much, he prefers to be non-verbal with people he does not feel comfortable with, does not know or distrusts He loves sleeping, he often uses his tail to rest on or as a blanket and as he’s blessed by the sun, he has a warmer body temperature, making him resistant to both low and high temperatures, however, he’s very prone to getting sick His favorite color is blue, and he loves whales! After astrology and astronomy, he’s interested in marine biology, likes to make terrariums, look for gems and fossils, and knows how to play the harp and violin, he love going to picnics with his brothers

╰┈➤ Avatars ༉‧₊˚

[napobythesea]

theo james, pansexual, cismale + he/him — well met ! as blood demands napoleon vella has answered the call ! they have been chosen and are now claimed as the child of poseidon. while they have been alive for (34) years, the adventure has just begun. they must now train hard in the ways of the cleric. while their generosity, community awareness, and resilience can be an asset to the god’s cause, their lack of self-discipline, reckless streak, and slothfulness could create some tension. only the fates will know in the end, but now their thread has been woven into the tapestry of myths and legends ! — luke, 21+, he/him, standard triggers (e.g. scat/non-con). 

🦪 : # basics

full name: napoleon vella nickname(s): napo, leo, naples! age: thirty-four date of birth: november 22, 1990 hometown: naples, southern italy current location: new olympia, ogygia species: demi-god ethnicity: white (european) nationality: italian gender: cis man pronouns: he/him occupation: scion of a noble house (former), professional party-maker (current) living arrangements: poseidon room + yacht language(s): italian, english accent: poetic italian, crass italian, loud italian

🌿 : # physics

face claim: theo james. hair color: brunette eye color: brown with hints of chartreuse and a sea-glass quality height: 6'2 weight: 180 lb build: thickset, barrel-chested tattoos: the letters 'nepo' right above his pelvis, presumably to signify his name but something had gone awry. usual expression: bright-eyed, grin at the ready, laughing prominent features: the shine of his skin, sea-hardened guns! dominant hand: left clothing style: board shorts (usually free-balled), a variety of white linen breezy shirts, blues and olives, tank tops, white vests and necklaces/jewelry combo, vintage old money style.

🦪 : # personality

astrological sign: sagittarius sun, tbd moon, tbd rising positive traits: generous, communally aware, outgoing negative traits: reckless, slothful, lacking self-discipline element: water/earth. enneagram: enthusiast. temperament: choleric. hogwarts house: gryffindor moral alignment: chaotic good. primary sin: sloth. primary virtue: charity. fears: submission, giving up control, the sacrilege of sacred italian food rules. habits: sailing, cooking, reveling. quirks: always has his fingers occupied by a glass of wine or a bottle of liquor, even when he's not drinking it. loves to lounge/sprawl on whatever surface he can find. pet peeves: ketchup in pasta. hobbies: sailing, cooking!

🌿 : # family

parents: lucia vella (mother); poseidon (father) siblings: three other relatives: a plethora of cousins and second-cousins pets: none

🦪 : # sexual

sexuality: pansexual + panromantic sexual position: versatile kinks: alfresco (outdoors sex), breeding, casual sex, roleplaying, post-training sex anti kinks: watersports, scat, non-con, feminization

🌿 : # additional lore

class: cleric. sub-class: peace innate abilities from apollo: athletics, intimidation other abilities: makes a mean margarita! character inspirations: the characters from mamma mia, andy dywer from parks and rec, and other european films.

🦪 : # biography

olive groves and lemon trees, all facing an endless expanse of turquoise sea. volcanic soil, rich and abundant, fostering growth in every way.

la dolce vita, the southern sparrows sing. la dolce vita, la dolce vita.

they chose the title of a ruler for him as a way to herald greatness. born the scion of house vella, a prominent noble legacy, napoleon’s destiny had been paved from his very first day, the road set on taking him from boy to legend. he likes to imagine his mother was in on the secret, smiling mischievously to herself whenever they praised his chartreuse-green eyes that glimmered like seawater or his ability to win every swimming contest unparalleled. it could have been a joke shared between her and the old man perhaps, for they both knew who their child was indeed what the others lauded him to be: divine, sacred, half-god. what a disappointment then, that napoleon never amounted to be anything except a roiling tide of hedonism and misdemeanors, sweeping the vella legacy under debts and unsavory reputation.

but if you ask him, none of it was ever his fault. he had only been living as intended, as it was his birthright: on the edge of utter, deep-reaching glory. it was not his fault that all his friends crazed after yacht parties and fine dining, and it was not his fault that he had expensive, otherworldly tastes. the world had always been a sparkling oyster for napoleon, so it could not be his fault for trying to scrap it out of the shell.

alfresco living is the term he had coined to describe his own lifestyle. it involved odysseys of glistening pleasure on a number of marine vessels - from massive yachts to small chartered boats - and relishing, not eating but relishing on the finest of foods. smoked provola from the greatest dairies in naples, sweet summer tomatoes harvested by the most reputed farms, and more delights, more cup and platefuls of delights, overflowing past their very rims.

la dolce vita. la dolce vita. the debts had not been the true awakening for him. after all, it was not commonplace to dwell about what filled your coffers when a group of dedicated officials took care of it regularly. the dam does not trickle out of water in a day. it took months, perhaps even years, of reckless spending and misfortunes for napoleon to see the vast dam absent of what it once held.

empty. or rather, emptied out. a part of him felt an odd satisfaction when they brought the news to light.

every step napoleon had been expected to take was bound for greatness, for prosperity, but he had somehow charted a new course all by his doing, sailing past the intended route into the great unknown. out of all the traits they glorified him for, his need for independence has never made the list. when they come to tell him the truth of what he is, the nature of his true birthright, he only laughs. it comes across purely as a challenge: another dam for him to break, another ship for him to sink.

“la dolce vita,” he winks and tells them.

[lovely-roderich]

I honestly do not know how to introduce myself at all. This is going to be one of my most half-assed intro's I have ever done tbh.

I hate everything, hating things is one of the best things I'm good at. Hashtag HATER 4EVER 💜

Everything that you might see written is written by a minor so beware for shitty ass writing, especially since my grammar sucks balls because my mind has decided to take away my ability to write.

I mainly write xreader cause that's the only thing I'm good at. I'll do mostly any fandom, even if the fandom has the worst history known to mankind, but if there is a character my fingers cannot form a sentence for, I will reject it.

The two topics I'm mostly good at writing is

Angst

Yandere

I probably will update this later in the future.

I write for male readers and gender neutral readers because there is way too much female reader writers, it's hard out there trying to find my GAY hetalia fanfics for male readers... But sometimes I will write for female readers when I feel like it.

REQUESTS I WON'T TAKE

Smut

Incest

Yeah erm, that's pretty much the list. I'm open to mostly everything so.

I take some of the longest breaks, but I come back every once in a blue moon.

Here's some small info about me, I use he/it prnouns, I like men, my name is Roderich (not really...), I like to roleplay because that's my only source of entertainment.

Bye ^_^

[wizblr-blue-moon-ball]

... so yeah, life happened.

I've been really sick all summer, so I wasn't able to really do the best dressed and I'm so sorry for that. I'll get to it eventually, so yeah

I'm unsure if I should still host the halloween event, so lmk if there's still interest

[the-mighty-dalob]

@regina-the-sorceress

*I’m enjoying the extravagant opulence of the main ballroom, smiling in general happiness. It’s been far too long since I’ve been to a party like this.*

*I hear your name announced and turn to watch you enter. I smirk as you don’t notice me right away, too caught up in the decorations and other distractions.*

*I make my way to you, going the long way around, staying out of your view even as you shake yourself back to alertness. All the longer to enjoy how beautiful the dress we made looks on you.*

Hey sexy! Looking for someone?~

*I tease once I’m close, being cheeky with you.*

Huh? Oh, Hello Miss, i am actually...

You wouldn't know someone dressed in Black looking stunning while standing directly in front of me would you?

*I jest while smiling at you*

[gladoseon]

Continuing to descend down The Wall, you come across the iterator ball that contains the Yellow Gang. Just as you’re about to skip past it, you notice something glowing blue inside it. Going in, you see the entire yellow gang lined up to catch you, and a strange weapon.

Picking it up, you pull on the secondary trigger. It shoots a spear that pierced straight through all 5 lizards and explodes on the opposite wall in a blaze of electricity.

Oh yeah. It’s railcannon time.

The Hurricane Cannon (aka The Malicious Electric Railcannon)

Primary fire: shoots a spear out in front of you. Can hold and fire 3 charges, 5 seconds to regain one charge. Spear deals 1 damage and has no special properties.

Secondary fire: unleashes all of its electricity into one spear and shoots it. Deals 5 damage, but the spear does not stop when it hits and enemy. It just pierces through, regardless of if the shot killed the enemy or not. When it hits a surface, the spear explodes violently, dealing 3 damage to anything nearby. This attack also pierces things that normally deflect spears, mostly lizards. This uses all 3 charges, and requires 20 seconds to fully power up again, instead of the expected 15. Cannot pierce through Prime Souls, walls, and Leviathans.

Lore: throughout the few cycles that Artificer stayed in power, she sought to create a super-weapon out of the rarefaction cells found within iterators. Though Five Pebbles forbid them from doing so, the scavengers stole many of Moon’s rarefaction cells and brought them to Artificer. However, the removal process wasn’t exactly refined, and many of them lost much of their power, and these broken ones were to be put back into Moon in their damaged state. Some Scavengers kept them for themselves after Artificer rejected them, which is why elite scavengers can be seen carrying singularity bombs.

However, out of all of the rarefaction cells removed, 2 of them came back in perfect condition. Artificer herself worked to create a weapon out of them, but only finished one before leaving. The other was worked on by the Scavengers, who copied her design exactly. She removed the shell, exposing the high-energy generator inside. She would then place the generator inside a ball of metal ripped from Five Pebbles, making sure to keep a wire running from the inside to the outside. Then, she put a module used to create purposed organisms, also taken from Five Pebbles, and placed a green lizard skull over it. The scavengers followed all of these steps, but they chose to use a train lizard’s skull instead, as they were a sign of power.

The result was a module that could generate a nearly endless amount of spears. By pressing down on one of the caps put on top, it would spit out a spear, and after a few seconds, the spear would regenerate. But by slapping the shell that hold the rarefaction cell, it would release a huge amount of energy at once, making the spear shoot out in a much more powerful fashion. This would exhaust the cell, and it would need to regain its energy before it could fire again.

Back to the roleplay…

Admiring your new weapon, you gaze out into the distance, and see that strange iterator again, but this time, it’s closer.

When you squint, you can see some of the longer poles that line its legs and body. The balls on its sides illuminate the entire area with massive spotlights, making the creatures below emerge, thinking it’s daytime, and drown or be crushed in the rain.

[starbirdfinch]

About Me

Star ✦ 25 ✦ Artist/Writer ✦ Multifandom ✦ Cottagecore Princess

Hello, everyone! Welcome to my blog! I’m Stardust Nightingale but you can call me Star.

I’m a creator who just simply wishes to express herself and talk about the things she loves. I’ve always enjoyed the artistic side of things, the stories that items hold or people create. I can’t guarantee what exactly I’ll post here, most likely my artwork, but I hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless.

“If we lived forever, maybe we'd have time to understand things. But as it is, I think the best we can do is try to open our eyes, and appreciate how strange and brief all of this is.” - Edith Finch

Social Media

Commission Prices

Toyhouse

Art Fight Profile

Instagram

Bluesky

TikTok

Art Feature

Practice drawing of my LOTR OC, Maristella.

Follow if you Like

Perfect Blue

Resident Evil

Dragon Age

My Happy Marriage

Lord of the Rings + the Hobbit

Rule of Rose

Haunting Ground

The Owl House

Obey Me

What Remains of Edith Finch

Behind the Frame: The Finest Scenery

Stardew Valley + Story of Seasons/Harvest Moon

Devil May Cry

Love & Deepspace

Silent Hill

Dragon Ball

Horror Movies

Animation

Studio Ghibli

Beastars

A Sign of Affection

Do NOT interact

Pro-shipper

Anti-LGBT+

Racism

AI Art or NFTs

Defense Any of These

Character Rules

I welcome any art of my characters as long as they’re not involved with anything in my DNI list or contains disturbing content. Gore and Minor NSFW are fine but strictly no NSFW for my animal characters or my persona, Lusicina.

I, however, do not allow anyone using my characters for their own OCs or roleplay. These are my characters and only I’m allowed to use them in roleplays. I will block and report if I find anyone doing so.

Art Rules

I don’t allow editing of my artwork or my artwork being used in edits. I don’t care if you credit me, do NOT post my artwork- you can come and message me about it but it’s likely that I would say no.

For commissions and gift arts, those these type of artwork are for are the only ones allowed to post and use my artwork. All I ask is to be credited.

Let’s Create the finest Scenery, Shall We? 🎨

[acollapsar]

✧   ° 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥

         I don’t post inbox or starter calls very often ( and if I do, it happens once every blue moon ).  Without any plotting prior, I have a hard time coming up with something decent on a whim as I try to avoid posting one-liner starters that lack any depth or direction. The same can be said for single sentence prompts ━ I don’t reblog them very often either because even though I generally don’t feel overwhelmed by the amount of prompts I may or may not receive in my inbox, I do easily tend to get overwhelmed by guilt when I can’t bring myself to respond to a prompt sent to me ( I’m trying to work on that ).

With no starter calls or prompts posted/reblogged by me, I understand that it might be difficult for mutuals to initiate interactions unless they send me unprompted asks or jump at me in my DMs. So I figured I’d post this, since it gives me an idea of who is interested in interacting with me so I can keep an extra eye open out for you on the dash. Not to mention I feel much more at ease knowing I won’t be a bother by simply showing interest.

By liking this permanent starter call, you will not only be acknowledging that you have read and understood the rules of my blog, but you will also give me permission to do any of the following at any given time if/when my muse calls for it:

Respond to old opens you’ve posted before.

Send you random prompted asks ━ even if the prompt you reblogged is ancient.

Send you random unprompted asks.

Continue from asks I’ve sent you by turning them into threads.

Visit you in your DM’s at any time.

Talk to you about plotting, queries, thread commentary, discussing possible connections/relationships, etc. ( but please, no “I’m down for anything”-business because that’s... really not helpful to either of us, and I can’t try and come up with something for us to do if I don’t know what even mildly interests you. If we are left fruitless, we can come up with a swift solution or just try again another time ).

Look through your wishlist tag ( if you have one ) and see if there’s anything in there that interests me that I’d like to write with you.

Re-connect with you in case we’ve talked before about RPing/you’ve tried to reach out to me in the DM’s but I didn’t respond for whatever reason ( most likely, I forgot to ━ or I was never notified ).

Moreover, by liking this post, you also acknowledge that just because you’re giving me permission to do all of these things if I get the inspiration to, it doesn’t mean that the ball is entirely in MY hands to make the first move now. I can’t force myself to write or do something if the muse/inspiration for it isn’t there at the time. Roleplaying is a two-way deal. Even though I know it’s difficult to initiate interactions with me ( especially for those of you who heavily relies on sending others prompts and memes ), if you happen to have an idea or inspiration for something then there’s nothing really that stops you from sending me a DM, prompted asks from old memes I’ve reblogged, unprompted asks, random starters or what else have you ♥ Since this post is mainly to help myself out, despite the ‘permanent’ part of the title, you can at any point in time unlike it for any reason you might have --- no hard feelings whatsoever.~

If any of the points listed above is something you’re not vibing with, then feel free to let me know and I will keep that in mind for future references! As for any multimuses --- please let me know somehow which one(s) out of your muses that you want to use for interactions!

This post is limited to mutuals only. Any non-mutuals interacting with this will be ignored.