#dunno if you guys needed that but just in case

[igotthis-egg]

Uzi doodles from class? It’s more likely than you’d think

I’m seriously so bored out of my mind during lecture so I use the time to draw since I can listen and draw simultaneously. It really helps those horrible, snail-paced 2 1/2 hour lectures to chug by a little faster. I have more but they’re more general and this is fandom-specific, so I’ll post some life drawings and some mlb doodles in a sec!

[turtleblogatlast]

“Haven’t You Noticed (I’m a Star)” from Steven Universe works so ridiculously well for Leo

[front-facing-pokemon]

[esteebarnes94]

I am very aware and adamant that Gen Alpha is going to grow up knowing good things about computers (not necessarily computer science, but the basic precautions and stuff), but I have to admit in the past I have seen some concerning things with internet safety. This is more Gen Z but damn, for a select group of people I do worry.

[gender-trash]

I would be very interested in hearing the museum design rant

by popular demand: Guy That Took One (1) Museum Studies Class Focused On Science Museums Rants About Art Museums. thank u for coming please have a seat

so. background. the concept of the "science museum" grew out of 1) the wunderkammer (cabinet of curiosities), also known as "hey check out all this weird cool shit i have", and 2) academic collections of natural history specimens (usually taxidermied) -- pre-photography these were super important for biological research (see also). early science museums usually grew out of university collections or bequests of some guy's Weird Shit Collection or both, and were focused on utility to researchers rather than educational value to the layperson (picture a room just, full of taxidermy birds with little labels on them and not a lot of curation outside that). eventually i guess they figured they could make more on admission by aiming for a mass audience? or maybe it was the cultural influence of all the world's fairs and shit (many of which also caused science museums to exist), which were aimed at a mass audience. or maybe it was because the research function became much more divorced from the museum function over time. i dunno. ANYWAY, science and technology museums nowadays have basically zero research function; the exhibits are designed more or less solely for educating the layperson (and very frequently the layperson is assumed to be a child, which does honestly irritate me, as an adult who likes to go to science museums). the collections are still there in case someone does need some DNA from one of the preserved bird skins, but items from the collections that are exhibited typically exist in service of the exhibit's conceptual message, rather than the other way around.

meanwhile at art museums they kind of haven't moved on from the "here is my pile of weird shit" paradigm, except it's "here is my pile of Fine Art". as far as i can tell, the thing that curators (and donors!) care about above all is The Collection. what artists are represented in The Collection? rich fucks derive personal prestige from donating their shit to The Collection. in big art museums usually something like 3-5% of the collection is ever on exhibit -- and sometimes they rotate stuff from the vault in and out, but let's be real, only a fraction of an art museum's square footage is temporary exhibits. they're not going to take the scream off display when it's like the only reason anyone who's not a giant nerd ever visits the norwegian national museum of art. most of the stuff in the vault just sits in the vault forever. like -- art museum curators, my dudes, do you think the general public gives a SINGLE FUCK what's in The Collection that isn't on display? no!! but i guarantee you it will never occur, ever, to an art museum curator that they could print-to-scale high-res images of artworks that are NOT in The Collection in order to contextualize the art in an exhibit, because items that are not in The Collection functionally do not exist to them. (and of course there's the deaccessioning discourse -- tumblr collectively has some level of awareness that repatriation is A Whole Kettle of Worms but even just garden-variety selling off parts of The Collection is a huge hairy fucking deal. check out deaccessioning and its discontents; it's a banger read if you're into This Kind Of Thing.)

with the contents of The Collection foregrounded like this, what you wind up with is art museum exhibits where the exhibit's message is kind of downstream of what shit you've got in the collection. often the message is just "here is some art from [century] [location]", or, if someone felt like doing a little exhibit design one fine morning, "here is some art from [century] [location] which is interesting for [reason]". the displays are SOOOOO bad by science museum standards -- if you're lucky you get a little explanatory placard in tiny font relating the art to an art movement or to its historical context or to the artist's career. if you're unlucky you get artist name, date, and medium. fucker most of the people who visit your museum know Jack Shit about art history why are you doing them dirty like this

(if you don't get it you're just not Cultured enough. fuck you, we're the art museum!)

i think i've talked about this before on this blog but the best-exhibited art exhibit i've ever been to was actually at the boston museum of science, in this traveling leonardo da vinci exhibit where they'd done a bunch of historical reconstructions of inventions out of his notebooks, and that was the main Thing, but also they had a whole little exhibit devoted to the mona lisa. obviously they didn't even have the real fucking mona lisa, but they went into a lot of detail on like -- here's some X-ray and UV photos of it, and here's how art experts interpret them. here's a (photo of a) contemporary study of the finished painting, which we've cleaned the yellowed varnish off of, so you can see what the colors looked like before the varnish yellowed. here's why we can't clean the varnish off the actual painting (da vinci used multiple varnish layers and thinned paints to translucency with varnish to create the illusion of depth, which means we now can't remove the yellowed varnish without stripping paint).

even if you don't go into that level of depth about every painting (and how could you? there absolutely wouldn't be space), you could at least talk a little about, like, pigment availability -- pigment availability is an INCREDIBLY useful lens for looking at historical paintings and, unbelievably, never once have i seen an art museum exhibit discuss it (and i've been to a lot of art museums). you know how medieval european religious paintings often have funky skin tones? THEY HADN'T INVENTED CADMIUM PIGMENTS YET. for red pigments you had like... red ochre (a muted earth-based pigment, like all ochres and umbers), vermilion (ESPENSIVE), alizarin crimson (aka madder -- this is one of my favorite reds, but it's cool-toned and NOT good for mixing most skintones), carmine/cochineal (ALSO ESPENSIVE, and purple-ish so you wouldn't want to use it for skintones anyway), red lead/minium (cheaper than vermilion), indian red/various other iron oxide reds, and apparently fucking realgar? sure. whatever. what the hell was i talking about.

oh yeah -- anyway, i'd kill for an art exhibit that's just, like, one or two oil paintings from each century for six centuries, with sample palettes of the pigments they used. but no! if an art museum curator has to put in any level of effort beyond writing up a little placard and maybe a room-level text block, they'll literally keel over and die. dude, every piece of art was made in a material context for a social purpose! it's completely deranged to divorce it from its material context and only mention the social purpose insofar as it matters to art history the field. for god's sake half the time the placard doesn't even tell you if the thing was a commission or not. there's a lot to be said about edo period woodblock prints and mass culture driven by the growing merchant class! the met has a fuckton of edo period prints; they could get a hell of an exhibit out of that!

or, tying back to an earlier thread -- the detroit institute of arts has got a solid like eight picasso paintings. when i went, they were kind of just... hanging out in a room. fuck it, let's make this an exhibit! picasso's an artist who pretty famously had Periods, right? why don't you group the paintings by period, and if you've only got one or two (or even zero!) from a particular period, pad it out with some decent life-size prints so i can compare them and get a better sense for the overarching similarities? and then arrange them all in a timeline, with little summaries of what each Period was ~about~? that'd teach me a hell of a lot more about picasso -- but you'd have to admit you don't have Every Cool Painting Ever in The Collection, which is illegalé.

also thinking about the mit museum temporary exhibit i saw briefly (sorry, i was only there for like 10 minutes because i arrived early for a meeting and didn't get a chance to go through it super thoroughly) of a bunch of ship technical drawings from the Hart nautical collection. if you handed this shit to an art museum curator they'd just stick it on the wall and tell you to stand around and look at it until you Understood. so anyway the mit museum had this enormous room-sized diorama of various hull shapes and how they sat in the water and their benefits and drawbacks, placed below the relevant technical drawings.

tbh i think the main problem is that art museum people and science museum people are completely different sets of people, trained in completely different curatorial traditions. it would not occur to an art museum curator to do anything like this because they're probably from the ~art world~ -- maybe they have experience working at an art gallery, or working as an art buyer for a rich collector, neither of which is in any way pedagogical. nobody thinks an exhibit of historical clothing should work like a clothing store but it's fine when it's art, i guess?

also the experience of going to an art museum is pretty user-hostile, i have to say. there's never enough benches, and if you want a backrest, fuck you. fuck you if going up stairs is painful; use our shitty elevator in the corner that we begrudgingly have for wheelchair accessibility, if you can find it. fuck you if you can't see very well, and need to be closer to the art. fuck you if you need to hydrate or eat food regularly; go to our stupid little overpriced cafeteria, and fuck you if we don't actually sell any food you can eat. (obviously you don't want someone accidentally spilling a smoothie on the art, but there's no reason you couldn't provide little Safe For Eating Rooms where people could just duck in and monch a protein bar, except that then you couldn't sell them a $30 salad at the cafe.) fuck you if you're overwhelmed by noise in echoing rooms with hard surfaces and a lot of people in them. fuck you if you are TOO SHORT and so our overhead illumination generates BRIGHT REFLECTIONS ON THE SHINY VARNISH. we're the art museum! we don't give a shit!!!

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt. 7

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

“I’m having a child.”

Danny stared at Batman.

“…Uh, congrats?”

Batman whips out a stack of paper and a pen. “It’s you. Sign here and initial the highlighted spots.”

Danny instinctively, from years of dealing with Vlad, whacked the stack right out of Batman’s hands and into the bay. He doesn’t even feel bad about littering this time because, “Begone, fruitloop!”

Wait, no, that’s not what he meant.

“I mean- I have parents!”

“Not for long.” Batman muttered and then did a double take. “You have parents? How?”

Danny gasped, placing a hand on his chest to clutch his metaphorical pearls. He ignored Batman’s mutters. Everyone knows the vigilante has an adoption problem. At least, everyone who lived in Gotham did, as everyone who didn’t was somehow convinced that he “worked alone” or some bullshit like that. “Are you naturally this insensitive or were you dropped on your head as a baby? Obviously I had to come from somewhere.”

“They’re still… alive?”

“And kicking,” Danny said, inching away from yet another rich weird guy trying to adopt him. “Mostly the kicking part, though.” He said, remembering the sparring sessions. His mom could kick his as six ways to Sunday with nothing but jiu-jitsu and still have time to work in the lab.

“I see.”

“I’m charging you extra for the emotional upheaval. I have trauma regarding rich people trying to adopt me.”

Batman sullenly handed over a thousand.

“Sweet. There’s a group of shades down here asking if you could find their murderer. Apparently the serial killer is still at large.” Danny pointed.

“Of course. Tell me everything.”

The adoption papers disappeared as Batman went into detective mode.

Danny shoved the cash into his glowing chest and breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to make rent this month so it was a windfall running into Batman.

——

“Hey, Tim?”

Tim woke up from his Power Nap. “Huh?”

“Phantom’s complaining that Batman kept trying to adopt him.”

Tim blinked. “Uh.. what does that have to do with me?”

Danny stared at him, a patiently amused smile on his face. “Just in case the rumor about the Wayne’s sugar-daddy-into the Bats was a thing. Other than that, we might have to confront Batman to get him off of Phantom’s back. ”

“You… want to confront Batman.”

“Hey, man, Phantom’s a friend and it’s ride or die.” Danny snickered. It was literally die, with his Phantom side of things. He held two fists up, and wound them, like Popeye right after eating spinach or something. “And if Batman bothers Phantom, we ride at dawn.”

“Batman doesn’t come out unless it’s dark, though? Or for the Justice League.” Tim grinned. He mentally classified Danny under his “to go to” list. That’s where Bart, Bernard, Cassie, Kon, and Garfield were. If he starts shit, he could count on them to have his back and cause even more shit. Danny, wanting to fistfight Bruce over the man making Phantom uncomfortable? He absolutely is making that list.

“Then we ride at, like, dusk. Or uh, like 10PM. I gotta get my beauty sleep.”

“You’ll definitely need it,” Tim inconspicuously texted the group chat, which quickly blew up.

“Shut up,” Danny playfully shoved Tim. “Wait, can Batman even legally adopt? Isn’t being a vigilante illegal? And how can he adopt someone dead?”

Tim dramatically flailed and splayed over Danny’s carpeted living room. “Dunno about his identity,” he lied to Danny, like a liar. “But Gotham has a bunch of laws for the undead/restored to life people so there’s probably enough gray space there.”

Danny spluttered. “You guys have undead friendly laws?”

“Yeah, geht do you think Grundy just chills out? Plus, we have like a minor resurrection event every few years. It usually doesn’t stick but sometimes it does. Bruce pushed for those laws when Jason came back to life, except he doesn’t actually want people to know he’s like, alive.”

“Jason died?” Danny blinked. Well, that would explain the vibes. “Huh. So what’s up with his rank vibes then?”

“Rank vibes?” Tim pressed record on his phone.

Danny nodded. “Yeah, you know how Phantom’s got like a really chill green vibe?” Inwardly, Danny snickered at his pun. Chill. Yeah, he meant that very literally. “Jason’s got kind of a rank green vibe. He’s kind of stinky? Definitely never introduce him to Phantom.” Danny’s senses got worse in his ghost form.

“Jason regularly showers, though?!”

“Not smell! Like, a spiritual smell?”

“You can smell souls?!” Tim sat up. “Bro, you’re a meta?!”

“Uh.” Danny hesitated. “Yeah. I can smell souls. It’s a thing. Everyone from my town can do it.”

“What?!” Tim paused. “Wait, can Phantom smell souls?”

“Yeah. We’re, uh, from the same town.”

“Danny, what the fuck?”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that, you’re the one with a soul-sick brother! Not to mention, you’re kinda stinky too!”

“Hey!”

“Soul-stinky nerd man!”

——

“I stink?!” Jason spluttered out, extremely offended.

“The Lazarus pits. He’s most likely smelling traces of Lazarus pit on you, you imbecile.”

“We need to speak to Phantom. This instant.”

“I dunno, B. Danny sounded like he was gonna break your face if you bothered Phantom anymore.” Dick snickered.

“Yeah,” Tim chimed in, from his seat in front of the Bat-computer. “He was pretty serious.”

“Are we just gonna glaze over the fact that they’re from the same town?!” Stephanie exclaimed, practicing her moves on a training dummy.

“How does that even work? What does that mean? I thought Phantom was an immortal?” Duke asked.

“We also can’t rule out time-travel.” Barbara slammed her baton into a training dummy, twisting her wheelchair in an agile maneuver that left the dummy on the floor.

“No bothering Phantom.” Cass proclaimed.

“That’s quite right. You all have a warm dinner sitting above your cave and should it remain uneaten, I assure you that sherbet Sunday and crêpe Tuesday shall be canceled.” Alfred stepped in. The Bats, threatened, scrambled to ditch their gear and go upstairs.

[in-class-daydreams]

Note: Gojo & the reader are ~40 in this, Sen is 18, and the guy you're seeing (if you don't already know who it is) is aged up accordingly (~30)

Imagine your and ex-husband Gojo's son Sen finding out you're seeing someone.

"You're going on a date?!" Sen asks in disbelief. "With who?"

You smooth out your outfit and check yourself out in the mirror. This look is one of your best, if you do say so yourself.

"Does it matter?" you ask neutrally. Sen is just mature enough to not blatantly freak out at this revelation, but only just. The less he knows, the better.

"Of course, it matters! I need to know who to hunt down if you disappear!" he replies, hands flying up to fist in his hair. "I need to vet this guy!"

Your ex-husband appears in your bedroom doorway. "Who are we vetting?"

Clenching your prospective clothing in your hands, you grumble, "Doesn't anyone knock any more?"

Satoru leans against the door frame like he's someone's booktok boyfriend (he used to be your booktok husband but that's beside the point). He takes in how you've cleaned up and instantly recognizes your date look. Of course, he's only seen it a million times.

"Oh, the kid didn't know you had boyfriend?" he asks.

"Boyfriend?!" Sen cries. Your temple throbs. "Who is he?"

Satoru shrugs. "I dunno, I just know he exists and his one move is sending flowers because he's basic."

"He's not basic and he is not my boyfriend!" you shout, throwing your hands in the air. "We go on dates, yes. We're seeing each other. 'Boyfriend' implies exclusivity, and none of the people I'm seeing are my boyfriend."

Your son and ex-husband stare at you wide-eyed. As Sen gets older, the black roots of his hair have become his last line of defense against looking like a carbon copy of his dad, and having both a young and old(er) Satoru look at you with their stupid big blue eyes is unsettling. Someone hurry up and blink.

"What?" you ask tiredly.

This time it's Satoru that has something irritating to say. "'People?' As in plural?"

"Satoru, don't start."

Sen raises his hand. "I'm with dad on this one. I don't trust anyone with you, not even dad--"

"Thanks, kid."

"--much less strangers."

Part of you understands that your son and ex-husband are the two people in the world that love you the most. Growing up as isolated as you did, your younger self would never have imagined having the both of them in your life. They're just trying to protect you.

The other part of you is on the verge of telling them both to step the fuck off.

You're all saved by the doorbell ringing and before you can even react, both of them are at the door interrogating whoever's on your porch. But you always met up with your dates instead of them picking you up in case of this exact scenario. There was no way he came to the door without your permission.

Sprinting to the door, you find your son, your ex, and a terrified-looking deliveryman holding a bouquet of flowers. You shoo the boys away from him and accept the flowers with thanks and a generous tip for dealing with them.

There's a handwritten note attached. It reads:

You didn't think I'd let you walk out the house without a present, right? Pretty girls need pretty flowers.

You can't hold in a grin. He always found ways to go above and beyond even without an official label.

"Well, at least he's a sorcerer," Sen says. He gestures to the note, "There's a teeny bit of residual CE on there. Not enough for me to recognize, though."

You try not to make your sigh of relief obvious. Sen was still in training and Sukuna said his ability to recognize specific cursed energy needed some work. Getting advice from his dad would help, but your son got his stubborn streak from you.

"Well, good. I don't need you tracking him down." Handing the flowers to Sen, you ask, "Put these in a vase for mama, please?"

Sen, ever the obedient son, runs off to do so immediately. You fondly watch him round the corner into the kitchen, then double back to grab you and place a kiss on your cheek.

"I don't like this, but please be safe, mama! Call me any time, I'll be there," he says, then returns to his task.

Once he's out of sight, you slip your shoes on, holding Satoru by the shoulder to stabilize yourself.

"I'll be back before 11. There's pasta in the fridge and I just washed the sheets in the guest room if you want to stay over," you tell him. Pulling up the back of your shoe, you look up at Satoru to find him stock still looking past you. You can't see his eyes, but you can tell they're fixed on the card you received.

That's when you remember that while your son may not yet be at full potential, veteran sorcerer, strongest in history Gojo Satoru knows damn well who sent you those flowers.

Shit.

Click [here] for more of Sen being mean to his dad | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[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.  

—— 

[spidernuggets]

Reader being Jason's girlfriend, who doesn't know about their double life, casually blurting out that she was never a fan of Batman and Robin or that she prefers Superman and the whole family is offended. 😭

love your writing, btw<3

-🪩

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

"No, no, you're right, babe. Superman tops Batman for sure."

"Ah, Ms. Y/n, pleasure to see you," Alfred opens the door to see you patiently waiting with a smile.

"Hey, Alfie! Is Jay home? He asked me to hang out with him today."

"He's in the living room with the rest of the family. Come in, come in," he steos to the side, giving you to room to enter.

"Oh, yeah!" You exclaimed, reaching into your bag. "I did that cookie recipe you gave me! They're not as good as yours, but they're sure better than the cookies I've made before. D'you mind taste testing for me?" You ask, handing over a tupperware full of cookies.

"I thank you for the charming remark, Ms. Y/n. I'm sure your cookies are as excellent." He says, taking a bite from a cookie.

"Nah, now you're just being too modest, Alfie," you laugh as he does too.

"Well, this is a marvellous improvement, Ms. Y/n," Alfred says, happily taking another one. "Come on now, let's go join the others."

The two of you walk towards the living room and see everyone there.

"Y/n!!" Stephanie shouts, running over to you, embracing you in a tight hug. "Ugh, it felt like forever since I've seen you! How are you 'nd Jason? Is he being an asshole like always?" She snickers.

You laugh, and before you can reply, Jason is already pushing Stephanie out of the way.

"Don't answer that, N/n. Steph, go away," he grumbles, soon putting on a smile once he stands right in front of you. "Hey, mama," he muttered, pulling you in by the waist, placing a kiss on your forhead.

You giggled at the contact. "Hey, Jay," you kissed his chin. "Hi, Bruce!" You look over Jason's shoulder, wavung to Bruce, who was sat on the armchair, looking through the newspaper.

"Y/n, always a pleasure," he says before going back to reading.

Jason takes your hand and guides you to the couch, making you sit on his lap. "Sorry I couldn't go out for our date today, sugar. Someone wouldn't let me leave," he emphasised, glaring at Bruce.

"It's scarce that everyone is here at once, Master Jason. It's a good opportunity for bonding." Alfred says behind him.

You kiss his cheek, which makes his heart race. "It's okay, Jay. It's nice hangin' out with you and your family."

"Yeah, kick his ass!" Steph shouts at the TV.

Last night's news was playing, showing footage of Batman and Robin, and their alliances, taking out some of Gotham's frequent villains and criminals.

"Do you guys always watch the news?" You asked, curious that they aren't watching something more entertaining.

You didn't notice it, but the whole family seemed to hesitate by your question.

"The news is a suitable way of keeping us informed of Gotham's latest activities. Just in case there are needs of safety plans for us," Damian says, sitting on the chair beside you, petting Titus.

"Plus, it's good to see Batman and Robin in action. Just in case there's anything they need to improve on." Bruce mutters that last statement, sending a sharo glare towards Damian, who, last night, didn't follow direct orders and backfired a section of the mission.

Damian ignored this statement and kept focusing on Titus.

You rested your head on Jason's shoulder. "Mm. I was never really a fan of Batman and Robin."

The whole room freezes, leaving the news to continue playing, and all heads turn towards you. The sudden attention had you tensed up.

"What?" You quietly ask.

"Batman and Robin are always keeping the streets clear of crime. How can you not like them?" Damian asks with a scowl on his face.

"I don't don't like them. They just don't pique my interest." You shrugged.

"Well what about their alliances," Tim asked. "Red Robin? Spoiler? Orphan? Red Hood?"

The questioning about Red Hood had Jason's full attention on you now.

"I dunno, I guess I prefer Red Hood. He's pretty cool," your unsure opinion had Jason mentally punching the air in victory.

"But.. to be honest, I kinda like Superman over all the superheroes," you smiled.

It was the calm before the storm. You didn't think a little opinion could've caused such a ruckus.

Even Bruce looked away from the newspaper annoyed.

"Why Superman? He's only so great because he has superpowers. Batman has no superpowers and can still put so many behind bars!" Bruce exclaimed.

Subtle. Jason thought.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know that you guys like these superheroes so much!" You said, almost scared that you somehow offended the family.

Jason then kisses your temple. "No, no, you're right, babe. Superman tops Batman for sure," Jason says, narrowing his eyes and sending a snarky grin towards Bruce, which, in response, he rolls his eyes and backs away from the conversation, going back to his newspaper.

"Did I say something wrong?" You quietly ask Jason as the other begin yelling at each other about which Batman ally is better.

Jason smiles, caressing your soft face with his rougher, calloused thumb. "Nah, don't worry, sweet thing. They're just mega Batman fans."

"What about you? Who's your fave?" You ask.

"Red Hood, hands down." He immediately replies.

You nod, thinking for a moment. "Okay. I wanna see more of Red Hood then. He'll be my favourite too." You say.

Jason thinks his heart just exploded. He shifts his right arms under your legs, his other supporting your back as he lifts you up, followed by a yelp coming from you.

"Get ready, babe. You're about to absolutely love Red Hood," he says, carrying you to his room, ready to go on a 5 hour lecture about Red Hood and why he's Gotham's greatest hero.

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Oh fuck.... my belly is so goddamn huge this time. I can't believe how big I'm getting," Janeen complained, feeling her growing belly, legs spread wide to make room for it. She couldn't hope to sit in a demure, reserved way anymore. She had to spread her legs like a cheap whore because of how pregnant she was.

"It's not that bad," Nathan, Janeen's fiance, said. "You can still walk after all, I'd say you aren't really that pregnant if you can still walk...."

"Oh ha-ha! Are you for real? This isn't a joke, my OBGYN wants me even more pregnant after I deliver these quads in a couple months. Like I come to see her because of course you knocked me up on our first date and she seemed pleased I was having a kid but immediately after I gave birth she was like I need to have way more kids. A girl my age should have a dozen at least and I'm only 21???"

"That's how they all are, darling. They just want to pump you full of fertility drugs and make sure you stay as pregnant as possible so you keep coming in to see them regularly. Not that a girl your age shouldn't already have twelve kids or anything! You know I'm a traditional guy, if I'm dating a girl she's going to get pregnant and stay pregnant."

"I know! And I love that.... I didn't really think I'd have kids for a long time and if I did it'd be one or two, but you really changed my mind..... I wanna stay pregnant for you like a girl's supposed to! But I dunno...... like I'm carrying quads and my OBGYN is shaking her head like I'm a basket case who's totally hopeless...."

"Well, not gonna lie you probably should be carrying at least octuplets from now on. Don't worry, she'll get you on the good fertility drugs next time! You'll be the size of a house! You'll look back on this and laugh at how tiny you were, which you are, by the way. You need to do so much better, my little breeder wife-to-be." Nathan smacked her belly a few times.

Janeen bit her lip, moaning softly. "If you say so..... you just want me to be totally helpless and bedbound, don't you? Pinned under a belly full of a dozen or more kids, completely unable to do anything other than be your own personal massive womb to fuck whenever you please."

"Which is all you'll ever be, darling, just like I've been trying to tell you...."

Janeen blushed. "I think I'm starting to believe you..... I wanna get so pregnant I can't do a damn thing but beg for your cock...."

"That's my girl."

[cloudcountry]

mer-shrimpy?

Genre/Tropes: No notable ones!!

Summary: The Prefect has an accident in alchemy (courtesy of Ace, Deuce, and Grim) and has turned into a merperson!! Floyd witnesses this and drags them to Octavinelle, where they hang out with the Octotrio until Crewel can reverse the spell.

Author's Comments: i love these absolutely menaces they're my favorite ever i want to hold their hands and hugs them (and give azul smooches.) this ends in kind of a choose your own adventure way?

~~~~~

A bright, multicolored puff of smoke erupted from the cauldron in front of you as Ace and Deuce argued, Grim scurrying around your ankles as he cackled. The noise stopped immediately after the smoke cleared, but you still couldn’t see much of anything. It was only when you realized that you couldn’t breathe very well that you started to panic, flopping around the floor.

Wait, flopping?

You looked down at your legs, only to see the bottom half of a shrimp of all things.

“Bad pups! Stay!” Crewel yelled, quickly approaching your tiny form on the ground, “Ramshackle Prefect, are you alright?”

“Shrimpy?” Floyd leered, peeking over Crewel’s shoulders, “What did you guys do to them, huh?”

Ace and Deuce stepped back a bit, intimidated by the sharp glare Floyd sent their way.

“The water breathing potion must have backfired. What did you add into your potion?” Crewel glared.

“Um…dunno.” Ace mumbled, “I’m sorry, Prefect. I didn’t mean to make you…tiny.”

You tried to voice that it was okay, that you weren’t dying, but nothing came out but sharp shrieking noises and ragged gasps.

“It’s hard to breathe-!” you gasped, choking on air.

“Ehh? It's hard to breathe? You need water or something?” Floyd hummed, his words sending Deuce running to the nearest large plastic container to fill it up for you.

You were more impressed that he’d deciphered what you’d said.

“You can understand me?” you choked out, the sound coming out garbled and raspy.

He tilted his head, kneeling down to you, “Of course I can, Little Shrimp! Did your brain get tiny too? You’re just speaking mer.”

You were about to speak again before Floyd lifted you into his arms, curling his arms around your body and holding you close. He nuzzled your forehead affectionately, his teeth scraping against the skin.

“Leech! Unhand the Prefect!” Crewel demanded, swooping in with the container of water Deuce filled, “This is why you all needed remedial lessons in the first place!”

“Aww, no fun. I wanna play with Shrimpy!” he pouted, turning away and using his upper body to hide you away.

“It’s okay, Floyd. I’ll play with you later.” you promised, “Just please let me breathe.”

“Fiiiine. I don’t want Jade and Azul yelling at me for not taking good care of you. Whatever.” he huffed, annoyed at the idea of letting you go.

He dropped you into the water unceremoniously, the small splash briefly disorienting you before you became used to the feeling of breathing water. It honestly felt like the bathtubs at home, with the container just barely fitting you. Your tail was bent at an odd angle in order for you to breathe properly, and Floyd looked annoyed at your mild discomfort. He brightened up a second later, eyes glinting with mischief.

“I know! Shrimpy, let’s go to my dorm! We have a lot of water, and you can swim all you’d like! Then we can play all we want!” he grinned, sharp teeth gleaming in the light.

“That may be the best idea given the situation.” Crewel agreed, turning his gaze to you, “What do you think?”

You nodded, heart jumping at the thought of a bigger pool. You could breathe and have leg room in the Octavinelle pools, though you’d need to learn how to use your new bottom. You couldn’t imagine how hard it had been to transition from a tail to legs for Floyd and Jade, and in Azul’s case, tentacles. You kept trying to move how you would with your legs, but it felt you only had one big leg and only moved one way. Crossing your arms over your chest, you blew annoyed bubbles in the water.

“Aww, Shrimpy’s so cute!” Floyd cooed, scooping up the container with ease, “Come on, we’re going on a trip! Just me and Shrimpyyy!”

You tried your best to hold onto the container as Floyd slung you around the hall, yelling cheerfully about how much fun he was going to have with you. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping you’d reach Octavinelle soon.

“Floyd, what are you doing?” someone questioned, the amused tone all too familiar.

“Jade!” he beamed, shoving the container of Jade in Jade’s face, “Look at our Shrimpy! Aren’t they cute?”

Our?!

“Indeed.” Jade chuckled, raising a brow as you floated aimlessly around the water, “I assume you were taking them to the pool in Octavinelle?”

“Where else? We need to keep our little Shrimpy close, don’t we?”

“That we do. I’ll walk with you.”

You wished you could chew them out about this stupid “our” business, but all that came out were more little shrieks and yelps. Floyd laughed, and that’s when you remembered that they could understand you.

“Poor thing. You sound so sad when you talk like that. I can barely understand you.” Jade sighed, acting all disappointed when you knew he was teasing.

“Mean!” you shrieked, and they both laughed.

Sinking back into the water, you blew annoyed bubbles until you found yourself in Octavinelle. The dorm was beautifully decorated, no doubt part of Azul’s influence. You furrowed your brow, looking from left to right. Where was Azul? It was after school, so there was only one other place he could be.

“Don’t fret, Little Pearl.” Jade hummed, staring down at you with half lidded eyes that scream trouble, “If you’re looking for Azul, he’s in his office. Of course, our priority lies with you as of now, but Floyd can retrieve him if you so wish.”

“Ehhh? Why me? I wanna play with Shrimpy.” he moped, holding the container of water closer to his chest.

“Oh, but Floyd, the Little Pearl doesn’t know how to use their tail. Wouldn’t it be more fun to play with them when they can run away? I will teach them the basics while you fetch Azul.” Jade hummed, attempting to placate his brother.

Floyd thought on it for a few seconds before brightening up, showing the container into Jade’s arms. With a loud promise of playing with you later, Floyd bolted towards the VIP Room.

Poor Azul.

“Well hello there.” Jade smiled down at you, his face distorted in the still sloshing water, “What do you say we get you in the pool, hm?”

You nodded, blowing more bubbles in the water. Jade chuckled politely, carrying you off into a hallway near the back of the dorm. You stood stationary inside the water as Jade hummed a tune, finally stopping in front of a door and pushing it open with his hip. The water sloshed over the side of the container, wetting his glove. Jade muttered a quiet apology and set the container down next to the wide expanse of clear water, his soaked gloved hand reaching into the water to pet your head.

“Do you mind if I lift you up? I hardly think dumping someone as delicate as you into a pool would be kind.” he hummed, pulling his gloves off one finger at a time, “I will also be shifting into my merform, so you won’t be lonely.”

You nodded, poking your head above the water. Jade’s bare hands were a sight you’d never seen before, and you were surprised at how soft they looked considering most of his free time was spent digging around in terrariums and even mountains. He noticed you staring, eyes crinkling in the corners as he chuckled. Without any warning, he swooped down gracefully, closing on you far too quickly for your liking. You jerked back, water sloshing over the sides of the container once again as Jade’s fangs glinted in the overhead lights.

“Don’t be shy, Little Pearl.” he cooed, dipping his bare hands into the water and scooping you up as though you were a plant ready to be repotted, “I won’t hurt you. I’ll treat you delicately, with all the care a little morsel like you deserves.”

Your eyes went wide at the morsel comment, but before you could see anything Jade had set you in the pool. Even though the water looked clear on the surface, there was a light fog settling within the water that made it hard to see much of anything. You jumped when you heard a splash a little ways away from you, but when you looked you couldn’t see anything. Fear coursed through your veins as you waited, unable to use your tail to swim towards where you hoped Jade had dove in with you. Gulping water through your gills, you tried to take deep breaths to calm down. They wouldn’t eat you, obviously. This was Jade. He just wanted to see you jump.

And jump you did, when a green blur gently tapped your tail from behind.

You jumped backward, whipping around to face none other than Jade. Crossing your arms, you glared at him as he chuckled, eyes narrowed.

“Apologies, Little Pearl. I wanted to see how you would react. It’s quite entertaining to see you out of your element.” he hummed, swishing his tail around as he darted in circles around you, “Now, do you think you’re ready to try swimming?”

“How do you guys work these things?!” you blurted, flopping in the pool like a fish on land, “It’s so hard to manage-”

“Don’t move it like you’d move your own two legs. Move like your legs have been merged into one.” Jade hummed, smirking at your struggle.

You jerked your tail as you managed to go forward, a small accomplishment in the grand scheme of things. Jade looked so proud though, and you tried not to let him feed your ego too much. He was probably laughing at you internally anyway.

“Good Little Pearl.” he hummed, swimming a bit further away, “Keep going. I’m certain you’ll be able to use that tail of yours efficiently in no time.”

With that praise, you tried even harder to swim towards him. It wasn’t as hard as it used to be now that you were thinking of your bottom as two legs merged together, and it occurred to you that merpeople had to pretend that their tail had been split in two. You wondered how they got used to feet, or even if they’d had a foot cramp before. Did merpeople have tail cramps?

You were too in your own head. As you snapped out of it, you realized that Jade had moved a bit farther, and had gone deeper into the pool. In the dimmer lighting at the bottom, you could swear his golden eye was glowing, beckoning you deeper into the pool like a siren. You almost didn’t go deeper.

Almost.

Curiosity killed the cat, as they said, and curiosity was about to kill you.

So you swam down, chasing after Jade as he darted between the various types of coral, their jagged forms rising from the sand like nature’s fortified towers. Octavinelle was truly a beautiful dorm.

With beautiful people, you thought as you watched Jade look back at you, his eyes gleaming. His expression was playful as he twirled in a circle, darting into some faded yellow coral. Without a second thought, you swam after his, elated that you were finally getting the hang of your tail.

“What are you doing here?!” a loud hissed reverberated in the water, and Jade immediately darted in front of you like a guard dog.

A familiar face poked out from the coral, his blue gray eyes narrowed with annoyance.

“Azul?” you gasped, eyes widening at the surprise, “I thought you were back in your VIP Room?”

“Wh- Angelfish? Why are you a…?” Azul trailed off, head tilting to the side as he examined you, “...Nevermind that. You need to get out. Out! Leave!”

“Azul, it’s okay.” Jade spoke, his voice calm and collected.

He still hadn’t moved away from you though.

“Azul, is everything okay?” you asked, keeping your distance.

The last thing you wanted to do was annoy him.

“Angelfish, please leave. You shouldn’t see me like this.” he sighed, shaking his head as he shrank back into the coral, “It’s not a pretty sight, I assure you. Now, if you will-”

“There’s no part of you that I wouldn’t find nice.” you said, voice so stern it surprised you, “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to show me, but I promise I won’t judge you for anything. I’m literally a shrimp right now.”

You flicked your tail in his direction for emphasis, and Jade snorted. He seemed to have drifted off the side since you two figured out it was Azul and not some other random student.

“Aaaaazul!” Floyd called, darting out of nowhere into the coral Azul was hiding in, “Come play with us!”

“Floyd, no-!” Azul yelped as he was slammed out of his hidey hole, a writhing mass of black following his front as Floyd cackled. Your eyes widened at the appendages as he struggled to hide them, trying to make himself seem as small as possible. He kept shooting you panicked glances, his chest rising and falling rapidly as Floyd swam circles around him.

“Azul? Why are you on edge? Is it because Little Shrimpy’s here?” Floyd teased.

“Azul, I highly doubt Little Pearl cares about such trivial things.” Jade hummed, pressing a hand against your lower back and pushing you the slightest bit forward.

Azul froze on the spot, finally taking the time to look at your expression. There was no disgust, no amusement, no fear. There was just awe and curiosity. He swallowed thickly, feeling like a specimen on an examination table. You slowly swam forward, reaching out slowly, giving him time to pull away. He slammed his eyes shut but didn’t move, feeling your hand slide down one of his tentacles. You hummed as your other hand cupped one of them, flipping it upwards to reveal the suction cups. Azul cracked his eyes open just a bit to see you staring down at his chubby hideous revolting body with such much adoration that it made his heart jump into his throat. He couldn’t breathe.

“You’re really pretty, Azul.” you murmured, pulling the tentacle closer and letting it wrap around your hand, its actions shaky and slow, “You’re gorgeous like this.”

“See? What did I tell ya? Little Shrimpy doesn’t care.” Floyd laughed, poking Azul at the base of his tentacles.

“I’m not so sure about that, Floyd. They seem to care quite a bit.” Jade chuckled.

Another black tentacle wrapped itself around your waist as his purple tinted skin turned pink. He refused to meet your gaze as you accepted his touch without a bit of repulsion, your eyes affectionate and happy as if asking him to keep going. He yanked himself away before he could pull you into his chest and hug you for hours.

“Come swim with us, Azul!” Floyd called, snapping at him with his teeth as he giggled, “You can’t hog Shrimpy all day! That’s not faaair!”

“Floyd is right, you know. You should thank him for going to get you in the first place. That was very generous of him.” Jade hummed.

“I was here the whole time.” Azul mumbled, and you shook your head at their antics.

“I’d like to make the most of this form while I’m still in it. It’s been fun so far!” you bounced a bit in the water, curling your tail in and out.

“Aww, Shrimpy’s so cute!” Floyd giggled, his expression immediately shifting to annoyance when he processed what you meant, “Ehh? What do ya mean? We’re going to have you over like this again, Shrimpy. You’re not getting away that easily.”

“Indeed.” Jade began circling you, a sinister look on his face, “You’re such a small little morsel, it would be the same if we didn’t have a chance to catch you.”

A shiver shot down your spine as Floyd followed his twin’s example, the both of them circling you menacingly as Azul stared disappointingly at them.

“If you two keep freaking them out, they’ll never come back again.” he pointed out, tugging you closer by the tail, “Don’t scare the poor angelfish. ”

“It’s just a little fuuun.” Floyd giggled, brightening up at the thought of forcing you over again, “Come on Shrimpy, wouldn’t you like that?”

“Sketchy undertones aside, I agree. I think it’d be nice to try this out again, even just swimming in my human form. It’s like stress relief.” you mused.

“Professor Crewel should be working on a cure already. We best make haste if we’re to enjoy you to the fullest.” Jade smiled his close-eyed smile, “Little Pearl, if you will.”

He gestured to the coral around you as Floyd’s yellow eye gleamed mischievous. When Jade opened his eyes, you noticed his yellow eye was glowing too.

“You may hide, and we will seek you out.” he chuckled, tilting his head slightly, “Wouldn’t you enjoy that?”

“Oh yes, Shrimpy! It’ll be so fun. We’ll try to take a bite out of you.” Floyd laughed.

 Azul shook his head exasperatedly, holding out a hand to you.

“If you do not wish to join their game of cat and mouse, I can show you around the deeper ends of the pool.” he murmured, “I’m sure you would enjoy the secret’s I’ve stashed away.”

You looked between the three, contemplating which to try first. Well, what’ll it be, dear Prefect?

[doki-doki-imagines]

Hey can I request the lin keui trio +earthrealm defenders reaction to y/n asking them to eat pineapple to make their cum taste better

author note: the snort I snorted. I suppose this is a sequel to this request. No actions are described. I'm dying this request killed me LMAOOO.

Johnny Cage: -Why is his smile getting so big? Why does it look so wicked? -"Oh, dear-" Johnny purrs out, walking towards you with open arms "I already have the perfect diet to taste delicious." -He doesn't hug you but gets dangerously close, his figure imposing in front of yours. -"Your memory must be playing trick to you-" His lips close to your ear, hot breath sending shivers down your spine, making you arch your body towards his chest. "Let's try it again? Just to remind you how delicious I am."

Kenshi Takahashi: -If he was drinking, he spits. If he wasn't, he coughs, choking on his saliva. -Kenshi knows that he doesn't taste like peaches and everything nice, but… is he that bad? -Nobody ever complained. -Kenshi will act annoyed, dropping the topic the second you bring it up. -Doesn't mean he won't start drinking the juice at any occasion he isn't with you. Kenshi cares about his partner.

Raiden: -His face gets so pale when you tell him that. You were worried he was going to pass out. -If only Raiden likes pineapple… -He gags every time he tastes it. -Raiden wouldn't mind trying different ways, but please no pineapples. -Or he'll just go down on you forever. -One of the few cases where your partner wouldn't mind if you never go down on him.

Kung Lao: -"Dunno what you are talking about. When I kissed you, I tasted fine." -1HKO. -Lao is a teasing shit, but he doesn't mind changing diet to make you happy. -You are lucky this guy eats everything. Ask Raiden. He had to pay for shit that he didn't even think could be cooked.

Liu Kang: -"Don't joke, dear one." "What do you mean? I'm not joking." "With Godhood you get many pros, you know?" "So what? They gave you amazing tasting semen?" "I'd say holy and delicious." "Oh God, Liu Kang!" "You don't need to call me twice." -You lost. Accept it. -Liu Kang will kiss your forehead to sweeten your loss.

Geras: -He knows about this stuff, but Geras thought he already had a good and balanced diet. -He accepts without making a fuss about it. -And maybe go even further, looking in the future to see if there are ways to make it taste even better to you.

Bi-Han: -You told him during breakfast, he choke on his tea. -His brain barely works and you start talking about his cum??? -"You seemed to enjoy it very much both yesterday night and the times before." "But-" "Don't you say another word." -But the damage is done, a woodworm penetrating his head and not leaving Bi-Han alone. -Maybe, for you, he'll do it.

Kuai Liang: -He looks at you, cheeks red and mouth opening and closing like a fish out of the water. -Okay?? Liang will do it because he loves you. -But also, did you have to ask for lunch? With the risk of Tomas and Harumi hearing! -For sure he's gonna ask if something changed the next time you go at it. -The next morning btw.

Tomas Vrbada: -Flat line, he has a poker face but it doesn't seem like he is breathing? You are more worried about his health now. -Tomas just didn't expect this? But he doesn't mind drinking it to make your experience more enjoyable. -Now since you complained once, Tomas has something to say too… -A good relationship includes talking after all, right?

[front-facing-pokemon]

[macfrog]

moneyball cowboy like me chapter four

part iv of dbf!joel is yours!!! check out my masterlist to find the first three chapters for all your dbf needs. as always, thank you all so much for all the love n support. you guys make writing this series so much fun!! 🤍 i lowkey don't know whether or not i hate this chapter but i had to write it once the idea was in my head 🤷‍♀️ enJOY

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: when joel double-books you and your dad, you decide to teach him a lesson

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! oral (f receiving), praise kink, lotsa teasing, lil bit of bratty reader, lil bit of dom!joel, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), consumption of alcohol, cursing

word count: 4.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You raise your eyebrows at Joel innocently as you push the popsicle deep into your mouth, sucking as far as the back of your throat will allow, before dragging it back out with a pop. A thread of sweet, fruit-flavored saliva strings between the tip of the popsicle and your bottom lip as you pull it away. You run your tongue slowly over your lips and smile at him. He looks pissed. He can’t take his eyes off of you, or your swollen lips, but he looks ready to snap. “I found snacks, by the way,” you lull.

How slutty is too slutty? When you’re going over to your dad’s best friend’s to…Well, you’re not quite sure what yet. You’ve picked out a short blue summer dress, strappy back, with black lace panties underneath. If you’re looking, and the light is right, you can see them through the blue fabric.

Joel would, you know that much. That’s all you really care about.

You’re putting earrings on in the mirror when your dad knocks and edges into your room.

“Where you headed, kiddo?”

“Just out for a drink with Sam. Said we’d have a catch-up at the barbecue, so.”

He narrows his eyes.

“It’s not a date.”

“Hey,” he lifts his hands, “I didn’t say anything. When will you be home?”

“Dunno. Why?”

“I’ll be at Joel’s, so remember your key. Just in case.”

Excuse me? Did he just say –

“Joel’s?”

He nods, sitting down on your bed behind you. You stare at him in the mirror.

“What’s happening at Joel’s?”

“Rangers game. He’s having Bill and Hank and me.”

Just then, your phone buzzes. You subtly lean over and catch a glimpse of the screen before it fades to black again.

Joel: Call me when you’re alone. ASAP

You roll your eyes and let out a low sigh.

“Can you give me a sec, Dad? I think I wanna change my outfit.”

“Sure. I’ll give you a holler when I’m leavin’.”

He shuts your door behind him and you wait until you hear his footsteps recede to call Joel.

“Hey, baby, listen, I’m gonna have to raincheck.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Something’s come up.”

“Right.” Your tone is muted and flat. On purpose. Joel notices.

“So…we’ll figure somethin’ out, right? You workin’ much this week?”

You scoff. “I dunno, depends on when the next Rangers game is, doesn’t it?”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then he takes a deep breath. “Kid, I’m so sorry–”

“Here I am,” you throw your arms up and march around your room, though you know he can’t see you, “getting ready, putting together the sluttiest-within-reason outfit I own, and all the while you’re gearing up to host my dad and your buddies.”

“…You’re wearing somethin’ slutty?”

“Not anymore,” you huff as you pull the dress off. “I’m changin’ into sweatpants.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’d still be into you in the sweatpants.”

“Shut up.”

He laughs. “I will have them out and gone as soon as the game’s done, and then you can come over, okay? Sound good?”

“And you’ll make it up to me?”

“I intend to.”

“’kay. Just know you’re gonna pay for this.”

He says through a chuckle, “See you later, baby.”

You hang up.

You rake through your drawers for something a little more comfortable to wear, settling for a floral skirt and off-shoulder top. Equal parts casual and suggestive. Perfect for payback.

Joel knows he’s gonna pay. He just doesn’t know when.

“Hey, hon, that’s me headin!” your dad calls up the stairs.

“Wait up!” you reply, grabbing your shoes and hopping out of your room. “I’m comin’.”

“You want a ride to Frank’s?”

“No, I’m coming to Joel’s.”

He watches you struggle down the stairs with one shoe on, brows furrowed. “You wanna…come watch the game? What about Sam?”

“He just cancelled.”

Your dad looks tickled. “Cheatin’ on ya, is he?”

You stand straight, finally having pulled your shoe on, and punch his arm. “I’ll be in the car.”

“Alright…” he mumbles, following you out.

----------

Joel’s face when he opens the door is a picture you never want to forget.

“Hey– I – did not know you were comin’.” He ushers you both in.

“Neither did I,” your dad replies, “she decided last minute. Blew off some date with that boy from Frank’s for this.”

“It was not a…” Your sentence ends with a sigh as you follow him inside, looking up at Joel as you pass. He knows damn well you didn’t even have plans with Sam, never mind a date.

“Big Rangers fan?” Joel calls from behind as the three of you head for the living room.

“Yes,” you reply, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as possible.

“Big enough to schedule a date during the game?”

“I’m sure I’m not the first to do that,” you hiss through your teeth, and he gives you an amused grin.

Bill and Hank haven’t arrived yet. Your dad sits in his usual recliner seat and sighs. You and Joel share the couch, where he turns on you to interrogate you more.

“So, what’s with the change of heart?”

“I, uh…I didn’t know it was this game.”

“And what game’s that?”

“The…Uh…You know. Rangers.” You shrug.

“Name three players.”

“That’s sexist,” you reply, pointing a finger at him.

Your dad cackles, rocking back and forth in the chair. “Beers, Joel?”

“In the fridge,” Joel answers, eyes still on you.

Your dad, who’d be oblivious to a hurricane outside if it weren’t for the warnings on the news, waltzes past the pair of you, locked in a death stare.

“You’re here to cause tr–”

“Trouble, yeah.” You flash him an innocent smile. “You caused it first.”

The doorbell rings and Joel doesn’t move, eyes still dancing all over your body; your shoulders, your hips, your thighs peeking through the slit in your skirt.

Your dad calls through from the kitchen, offering to get it, and you hear the rumble of Hank and Bill’s voices.

When Joel’s eyes meander back up to meet yours, a dangerous look in them, he leans in close. You tilt your jaw to allow him access, but his lips never touch you.

Breath hot on your skin, his Southern drawl whispers, “I started it, and I know how to finish it, pretty girl.”

Then he stands and heads to the hallway to meet his guests. You clamp your legs together.

Bill roars your name when he sees you. “I didn’t fuckin’ know you liked the Rangers!”

You stand and nervously accept his arms over your shoulders, squeezing you so tight it takes your breath away. Joel stifles a laugh in the doorway.

“I just wanted to be around for all the fun,” you almost gasp when he releases you.

Hank is older and smaller in frame, and he gives your hand a little squeeze as he passes by to the couch. “We’re up for it tonight, kiddo,” he smiles sweetly, “it’ll be a good’un.”

“Bill, beer? Hank?”

“Bourbon for me, Joel. Brought my own bottle.” He hands it over.

As your dad squeezes past to join his friends, Joel clicks his fingers at you and jerks his head toward the kitchen. Your jaw falls open with mock offense.

“Dick,” you whisper as you pass.

“Needed help from my waitress with the drinks,” Joel murmurs with a smirk, the two of you heading through.

He opens the fridge and reaches up to grab three beers – Buds, you notice – from the top shelf. His shirt lifts a sliver from the waistband of his jeans, exposing the tan skin beneath.

Your head cocks as you stare at him, gripping onto the worktop, probably more to stop yourself from approaching him than to look casual. But when Joel turns back around, he reads you like an open book.

“Quit starin’,” he mutters, nudging you to shift out of his way.

You don’t budge, so Joel shifts further up the counter. When you slide up to follow him, pinning yourself between him and the marble surface, he scoffs.

“Stop that,” he whispers.

“Stop what? Thought you knew how to finish this?”

“Alright,” he hums, arms reaching around yours to crack the beers open in front of you. Your back is flush against his chest.

“Then,” he mumbles, chin hooked over your shoulder, “we take this,” he reaches for a whiskey glass and Hank’s bottle of Yellow Rose, sliding them over in front of you with one hand. He takes your hands in his, using you like a puppet to pour Hank’s drink.

You can’t help but giggle as his stubble grazes your cheek.

When you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, you feel an unmistakable swell behind your ass. Joel’s breath falters for a brief second.

You want more. To be frank, you’d take him here and now if it weren’t for his buddies in the next room. But this isn’t about what you want right now. Not yet.

You push off the counter gently, your ass touching Joel’s crotch, grinding into him. His jaw tightens, teeth lock together, and he emits a low growl. He doesn’t move; just stands with his arms around you, hands gripping the worktop, holding you in place as your hips rut on his hardening bulge.

The TV is switched on and you hear a familiar commentator’s voice.

“Joel!” your dad yells from the living room.

“Had your fun?” he grumbles in your ear.

You shake your head. “Not yet.”

He moves his arms then, letting you go, taking his and Bill’s beers and Hank’s bourbon, and backs away. His eyebrows are cocked, and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face.

You watch him until he disappears into the living room, and snap out of your daze. I’m not here to be wooed by him.

I’m here to make him finish what he started.

When you enter the living room, beer in hand, all four men are literally on the edge of their seats, as far forward as they can get without actually sliding off of Joel’s couch.

You notice a space between Joel and Hank, and slip between the coffee table and Hank’s legs. He moves back to allow you the space to squeeze by and slot in on Joel’s left.

As you fall down into your seat, all eyes glued on the TV screen, your right hand comes up to balance yourself – Who are you kidding? – on Joel’s thigh. The inside of Joel’s thigh.

His head jerks down to stare at your fingers, locked around his leg. Checking nobody’s looking, you move it slightly upward. Closer to his –

“What are you doin’?” he whispers through gritted teeth, low enough that the other men don’t hear.

“Watchin’ the game,” you reply, innocent and sweeter than sugar.

His free hand takes hold of yours and slides it off of his thigh without looking, eyes always on the room around him.

You breathe a laugh as he readjusts in his seat, sitting up awkwardly straight and keeping his legs a safe distance away, parallel to yours.

You’re just getting started.

----------

Let’s be frank about it: baseball is fucking boring.

Well, let’s rephrase. It’s not that you don’t like watching it; you’re sure that, in more appropriate circumstances – relaxing on a lazy Sunday, or at an actual game, where the atmosphere buzzes with excitement – you could enjoy it.

But right now, you’re sat with your dad’s buddies, an ache between your legs that you can’t fix, and the only person who can fix it, is refusing to even look at you.

Given the situation at hand, you can’t really fault him for that. But you’re still a little mad.

When they roar at the screen for what feels like the thousandth time, you decide to take yourself for a quiet jaunt to the kitchen.

“You got snacks?” you ask Joel.

“Cupboard above the microwave,” he replies, gaze locked on the game.

You saunter out of the living room, finishing the dregs of your beer, and place the bottle in Joel’s sink.

Reaching up to search his cupboards, you find one bag of Cheetos and another bag of pretzels. You toss them both on the counter, and they land a little bit away from Hank’s bottle of bourbon.

You pick it up, reading the label. You’ve never really been much of a whiskey drinker, but you’re bored, and it’s here, so you may as well.

You pour a little into the bottom of a glass and lift it to your lips, giving it a good sniff before you take a sip. Your face screws up immediately, swallowing just to get the liquid off of your tongue, feeling it burn its way down your throat.

“You okay in there, kiddo?” your dad calls, hearing your coughing, and you splutter a “Yep!” in response.

Would it taste better with ice, you think? Maybe if you could get used to it, it wouldn’t be that bad. You amble over to Joel’s refrigerator and haul the freezer door open, in search of ice cubes, but finding something even better.

You lift the box, sliding one of them out and unwrapping it. When you knock the freezer door closed with your hip, you strut through to the living room and stand behind the couch in the doorway.

No one notices you sneak in; they’re all waving their fists and yelling curses at the TV.

“What’s goin’ on?”

Four heads turn to give you an update on the game, and three hastily turn back when the crowd suddenly begins cheering.

One head, though, whips straight back to you. Stood in his living room doorway. Sucking on a popsicle.

You raise your eyebrows at Joel innocently as you push the popsicle deep into your mouth, sucking as far as the back of your throat will allow, before dragging it back out with a pop. A thread of sweet, fruit-flavored saliva strings between the tip of the popsicle and your bottom lip as you pull it away. You run your tongue slowly over your lips and smile at him.

He looks pissed. He can’t take his eyes off of you, or your swollen lips, but he looks ready to snap.

“I found snacks, by the way,” you lull.

“Yeah? Good.” He twists back around to face the television, a hand running across his jaw. He shuffles in his seat again, just as awkward as he is uncomfortable.

You let out a quiet giggle and meander gleefully back through to the kitchen.

Not long after, you’re at Joel’s counter eating some of his pretzels when he and your dad stalk through, followed by Bill and Hank.

“Game over?”

“No, kid,” Bill chuckles, “seventh-inning stretch.” He yanks open Joel’s refrigerator and takes three more beers, passing them around.

He perches on a bar stool next to you, bringing a hand down on your back – loving, of course, but in typical Bill nature, kinda painful.

“We ain’t doin’ too bad,” Hank muses as he pours another whiskey, and your dad nods silently.

Your eyes flit between the men, now deep in conversation about the game, then land on Joel, leaning against the doorframe sipping on a beer, his eyes on you.

You lean over the counter, popping your ass out, and make him watch as you open your mouth, extend your tongue, and place a salty pretzel on it, closing your lips around your finger and licking it clean.

His expression never changes. Just watches like you want him to, beer bottle clutched in his fist.

“I’ll take these.” Bill’s hand swings across and scoops up the Cheetos, and before you know it, they’re making their way back out of the kitchen.

Joel’s eyes bore into yours as your dad, Bill, and Hank filter out past him. He’s mad, you can tell that much. He paces over to you.

“Knock. It. Off.” His voice is a low growl.

You shake your head. “No can do.”

He sighs, gripping your wrist. Before you can take a breath, he’s dragging you out of the kitchen and upstairs, where he makes a right and almost shoves you down the dim hallway.

“The hell is your game?” he hisses when you’re out of earshot of the others.

“Having fun, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to keep everybody from seeing the fun you’re having. Touchin’ and rubbin’, lookin’ at me like that in front of everyone. The damn popsicle.”

“You liked that, huh?”

“You gettin’ off on this?”

“Mhm.” You nod a little too desperately.

“Well, quit it. When we’re alone, fine, do whatever you want. Not when your dad’s watchin’.”

“My dad ain’t seeing none of it and you know it.”

He runs a hand through his hair and brings it down over his eyes. Seeing him this stressed and undone over you, over what you’re doing to him, sends pulses of electricity through your body.

“What the hell am I gonna do with you, girl?”

You shrug. “Maybe you should punish me.”

“Maybe I fuckin’ should,” he spits, turning away from you.

As if just hearing what you said, he turns on his heel, staring you down with an expression you read to mean one thing: he’s fucking considering it.

“Maybe I fuckin’ should…” he whispers again.

You try to keep your cool façade up, but the way he’s looking at you, eyes dark, jaw clenched, towering over you and cornering you against the wall, has you so wet and needy that you can’t pretend anymore.

“Joel…”

Whatever you were about to say is cut short by the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. Joel reacts before you do, reaching behind you to pull a door open and backing you into his linen closet, quietly following you in and closing the door again.

There are just inches between you both, pressed chest to chest in the tiny confines of the closet. Joel’s head tilts and listens for Hank’s figure, stumbling back and forth across the landing in pursuit of the bathroom.

“Where’d you say it was, Bill?” he calls downstairs.

“First door on the right, dumbass!” Bill’s voice shouts back up.

Joel’s fist suddenly wraps around the handle, his eyes glued to the wall above your head, listening intently. He’s making sure Hank doesn’t try the wrong door.

Which, of course, he inevitably does.

It rattles some, but Joel’s grip stops the handle from turning. He glares up, shaking his head, mouthing profanities. First door, you fuckin’ moron. You stifle a laugh behind both hands.

“Hank!” your dad’s voice shouts from downstairs. “Not that one, idiot, the one next to it!”

Finally, the door stops trembling.

“I see it now, sure enough,” Hank mumbles, and you both listen to him spill into the bathroom next door.

You let out the breath you’ve been holding in your chest. Joel lifts his hand off of the door handle and places it around your jaw.

“You’re gonna be real quiet, alright?”

He’s speaking so low and so quiet that your eyes track his lips to read the words he’s saying.

“Gonna do what I say and keep that pretty little mouth shut.”

You squirm under his touch, hands gripping his shoulders, desperate for him to kiss you.

Instead, he holds your jaw tight and forces you to look at him.

“Say it.”

“I’ll be quiet,” you breathe, “I’ll be good. Just fucking touch me.”

He runs his tongue along your bottom lip then, asking it to part, and when it does, pulls you roughly against him, free hand dropping to your ass. His tongue battles strong against yours, bittersweet with the taste of beer.

You feel yourself intoxicated with the taste of him, the smell of him, the feeling as his hips purposefully rut into yours. You want him to mark you again, give you something to hide, something to make half-assed excuses over when people spot it. You want him to make you his.

You moan into his mouth, hands finding his hair, and he grips you tighter.

“Shut – the fuck – up,” he snaps between kisses.

He pauses only to listen to Hank tumble out of the bathroom and back downstairs, then gives you a peck on the lips with a cocky smile.

Suddenly he’s at your neck, lips kissing, tongue licking, teeth grazing, and then he’s making his way down, over your breasts, breath hot and unsteady on your heaving chest.

You can hear the booming laughter of the men downstairs. Their shouts and calls at the television. It all echoes up the stairs, floating in under the slit of light from the hallway outside.

Joel’s on his knees now, placing delicate kisses up your thighs. His hands pull your weight onto his shoulders, fingers taking hold of the hem of your skirt and hiking it up. When he reaches your underwear, he looks up, a dark look in his eyes. A question.

“Quiet,” you mutter, nodding, and buck your hips toward him in attempt to hurry him the fuck up.

He smirks at your neediness and kisses you over the lacey fabric of your panties. You bite your lip to keep a moan from escaping your lips. Joel’s eyebrows raise, waiting for you to make a sound. When you don’t, he pulls the fabric back.

He positions himself perfectly at your sex, pulling your thighs a little wider apart over his shoulders. Your head falls against the wall behind you, but your eyes stay locked on him, watching every little move he makes.

He starts by placing his lips against your clit gently, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. He’s soft, warm, but with a hunger for more.

He sucks there for a minute, your hips rolling against his mouth, vision becoming clouded with stars in the darkness of the closet. Your hands tease his hair, gripping and pulling harder the more pressure he applies to your core, the closer he drags you to your high.

When he pulls away, a tiny gasp passes your lips. You expect him to get mad, punish you for making noise, but he just grins to himself and dives back in.

His tongue licks along your folds and you have to bite down on your sleeve this time. It’s no use, your moan breaks free and fills the tiny space, but Joel’s groaning too as he tastes you for the second time in three days.

“So – fucking – good for me, darlin’,” he whispers when he comes up for air, then gets right back to it.

His fingers grip your thighs so tight it almost hurts, keeping you steady. His head drops a little lower, and you feel his breath across your lips.

“Joel,” you moan, and he looks up. “Need your tongue.”

When he drags it between your folds and dips ever so slightly inside you, your back arches, shoulders digging into the wall. You’re doing everything not to scream, his tongue lapping you up, nose rubbing against your clit, but you’re nearing closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Keep – going – fuck, Joel,” you breathe, eyes screwed shut, hands tangling in his hair, pulling his head closer against you.

“Shh,” he’s cooing now against your cunt, pulling a hand under your thigh to insert two fingers as his tongue massages your clit. “I know, I know,” he says, lifting his chin. “Poor baby just wanted some attention, huh?”

You smile, eyes closing in bliss as his tongue reattaches to your core. You whimper his name as your walls start to close around him.

Just then, a roar lets out from the living room, and the coil snaps. You cry out, moaning Joel’s name as you cum on his tongue, your sweet noises drowned out by the thunderous cheers from downstairs.

You swear you feel Joel smirk against your wetness as you unravel for him.

You’re panting, hands still clinging onto his hair for stability, as he pulls away from your cunt and leans back. He gently rolls your thighs off of his shoulders and helps you to stand, before his tall figure straightens up in front of you.

You instinctively grab his shirt and pull his lips against yours, wanting to taste yourself on his tongue. Joel’s breath hitches when your teeth graze his bottom lip and you pull away, releasing it.

“I fucking love this,” you mutter, and he laughs.

“Yeah? I just missed a whole inning ‘cause of you.”

“Worth it.” You smile as he opens the door, checking the coast is clear before letting you out first.

“Where the hell you two been?” your dad asks as you both rejoin the group.

“Missed one hell of a play, you pair.” Hank raises his glass toward the television.

You sit a little distance from each other on the couch, your needs fully satisfied, and Joel clears his throat.

“Was showin’ her my new six-string.”

You notice him out of the corner of your eye licking his lips. Fucker.

Your dad shakes his head with a laugh, spinning the recliner back to face the screen. “First baseball, now guitars. What has gotten into you, lately, hon?”

“Hey, Joel?” Bill sits forward, leaning over the coffee table to Joel, who lifts his head in reply. “You mind showin’ me that six-string after the game?”

You choke on your beer and Hank’s hand comes up to clap you on the back. “You alright, girl?”

“Maybe, maybe,” Joel replies, trying to ignore you, coughing and spluttering at his side.

With a few more good whacks from Hank and a clean sip of your drink, you recover just enough to join the conversation.

“It’s a really neat guitar, Bill.”

----------

taglist: @yvonneeeee @brittmb115 @subconsciouscollapse @leahlovestwd @peqchsoup @whorror-s @k1ttybean @whichwitchwanda @abuttoncalledsmalls @anner--nanner @jpbplvr @laysmt @ankhmutes @bookishhella @cannolighost @luvrking @mellymbee @yourwinchesterbros @serenaxpedro @nostalxgic @scottstotts @daiseygriffithx @letsgroovetonighttt (let me know if u wanna be added!)

[amphibiahawks321]

Black Swan : What's wrong, dearest? You've been looking out of that window for quite some time

[Black Swan said with a questioning tone, seeing Y/N staring out onto the scenery of Penacony from their room in the Grand Hotel]

M!Reader : I dunno, seems like there's something off about that Sam Hunter guy. First Death made his entrance, and now we have a Stellaron Hunter on our hands.

[Scratches his head in frustration and confusion]

"Everything doesn't add up really. I feel like we're missing a few details."

[As Y/N finished his sentence, Black Swan swiftly trapped him in a tight hug with his face laid on her assets]

Black Swan (whispering to Y/N's ear) : Do those few details include us having some alone and having a fun time for the night~?

[Y/N's face and ears burn red in embarrassment, but nonetheless leaned into Black Swan]

M!Reader : Dammit Swan, you need to stop teasing me like this, y'know? I might just...

[Y/N proceeds to bridal carry Black Swan to their bed before pinning her hands down]

M!Reader (smug face) : You really need to learn to control that sultry habit of yours, Swan. I might accidentally misunderstand what you're trying to say.

Black Swan : Ahh~, in that case why don't you teach me for the night~?

(Credit to @muqriezammer y'all)

[cobraaah]

Pairing• [Nauseaxe_404 ♡ Reader]

A/N• This took way longer than I wanted. Hopefully, it's not too long for you guys. It's not the best since I haven't written anything, let alone smut in a long time. Also not proofread. . Way too long. Also I dunno how to do warnings so be prepared I guess.

Warnings• Smut 18+, intentional injury, manipulation, slight blood?, axe usage ( not hurting reader), P in V, cunnilingus

Word count• 8k

Superstar

Desperate. Desperate for money of course! Recently you've been low on money, having bad impulsive buying habits on randome junk you didn't need. "A way to gain fast money!" Popped up on your laptop screen. Scrolling on suspicious and unsecured websites had its downsides. A grumbled sigh left you as you tried to click the ad off your screen. It didn't leave, it was like some sort of weird virus. . or something like that, you wernt the smartest tool in the shed when it came to computers. Your curiosity came over you, you did need some quick cash. Your morals went out the window, discarding the fact that you could get so many viruses, maybe even kidnapped! Your finger hovered hesitantly over the pad on your laptop. Deciding to get it over with quick, you click, closing your eyes for some reason, expecting a million more pop ups to show up, maybe a random guy breaking into your home to take you away. . but no. Your E-Mail opened up instead. Your eyes squint at the screen reading the new E-Mail that was sent to you. To you, it was all non important, besides a few key details, they read; "simple and does not require any particular skills or talents." , "50,000 dollars cash in total. Half will be sent to you in a few days, the other half will be at the job site." You paused for a second, re-reading the last part. Your eyes widen as your mouth gaped with a surprised grin. "Fifty K?!" You scanned the email over again, trying to convince yourself this isn't real, fortunately, it was. Deciding to actually read the email now the description talked about having to be a mediator, having to remove some tendents from a hotel of sorts. Seeing as they said it's simple and you don't need any special skills, this seemed as a easy way for you to earn some money. Red flags should've been popping up in your head but your lust and desperation for money took over. Quickly, you typed a E-Mail back accepting the offer, clicking send you sat back with a sigh. Now all you had to do was wait for half the money to be sent to you and-. "Wait a second.." You mumbled to yourself. With another quick re reading of the E-Mail they did say they were going to send half the money. . but how? "I never gave them my address or like. . anything?" With a sigh, you closed your laptop assuming that these ominous people from this sketchy ad had all your information already from your relentless visits to sketchy websites doing god knows what on them.

A few days have gone by since you've sent that e-mail accepting the suspicious job offer that you didn't even know was real to be honest. Currently looking up at the ceiling contemplating everything you've done at this point, we're you really that gullible? Thinking that someone would actually give you a-. . A loud crashing noise can be heard outside your room, heavy footsteps can be heard getting more faint until nothing. Frozen through the whole ordeal, you sit up after just laying there for who knows how long. Your eyes dart over to your door completely unsure about this whole thing, did someone really just break into your house? What if they were still inside?! A shiver runs through your body, goosebumps form on your arms at the thought. Getting up, you shuffle your way to your door cautiously incase the intruder was still there. With a creak of the door, your eyes dart everywhere not noticing anything out of place. Walking out of the hallway you notice a suitcase placed infront of your front door. "What the fuck.." Eyes squinting suspiciously at the case infront of you. Looking behind your shoulder before you crouch down and open the suitcase up.

Stacked upon stacks of hundred dollar bills are loaded in the case. Your mouth open slighty in disbelief at the sight, was this the twenty-five thousand?? Who ever your client is, they know where you live. Too overwhelmed by the amount of cash infront of you and the thought of some random from the internet knowing where you live, AND them actively breaking into your house, you shut the case. Staring surprised at it, you pick it up and walk back into your room carefully setting the briefcase next to your dresser. You get settled back into your bed opening your laptop having it rest on your lap. Just before opening up the web browser a pop up flashes on your screen, it has some address with the text underneath it reading "Arrive by 6 AM this monday, no backing out now." Oh. . oh. A small frown forms on your face at how threatening that last part was. Weighing the option of dipping with the twenty-five thousand dollars or suffer the consequences your client would serve to you if you didn't listen. . . you took the ladder. You take a screenshot of the address, saving it to your laptop for later. The pop up disappears a few moments later leaving you to the browser.

Scrolling on Dumblr, looking through random blogs, reading fanfics, the usual. Just as your finishing reading a blog the notification inbox pings. . . and pings repeatedly. "Jesus christ.." You mumbled under your breath. 'Swear to god, if this is the same guy-' Tapping on the inbox button you're welcomed by spammed comments by this guy named Nauseaxe_808. Now you would've been fine by this if it wasn't the same guy you've blocked hundreds of times for, number one being a creep, leaving obsessive comments. . and that's it. This guy just creeps you the hell out, everytime you block him he comes back with a new account with the same name but just different numbers added at the end, it started as Nauseaxe_404 to Nauseaxe_808.

At this point you've thought of just deleting your account since no one interacts with your blogs besides this weirdo. BUT thinking that if you did delete your account this sicko would win in his sick game. Of course at some point you started to feel bad for the guy, he seemed like a good person at some points when he wasn't leaving comments like, "I know where you live Superstar!", "Please notice me, I'm your BIGGEST fan!" Just super obsessive stuff. Did it make you feel wanted. . . yes. Should it? no. Are you delusional? maybe. Finger grazing over the mouse pad on the laptop, with a click on this guys profile and another click on the block button a sense of relief washes over you, but so does some regret creep up on you. All this guy wants is your attention and you keep on blocking him, maybe you should respond to him once. . . just once so you don't feel guilty about ignoring this guy, you'll just wait until the next time he makes a new account to respond with a simple 'Thanks.' and maybe he'll leave you alone, maybe just one response will make him stop. Is that a smart move to make against this online stalker? Not really, but common sense wasn't really that common to you anyways. You close the laptop with a sigh deciding today was eventful enough for you, too overwhelming in fact. Setting the laptop on the floor you get settled in your bed, deciding to get some sleep. Sleep quickly takes over, not realizing how exhausted you were. . .

Monday comes quicker than expected, unfortunately. Having to wake up way earlier than expected to go to this random ass location in the middle or the woods. Great! Sarcasticly you think to yourself as you follow the GPS on your phone, a small scowl appears on your face, rethinking your decisions. You dressed somewhat formal for this job, after all they are paying you fifty thousand dollars to be a mediator so you better belive it you're not gonna look homeless today. But having to wake up at five in the morning so you could make it on time didn't motive you that much to put that much effort in yourself. You did the basic for yourself and hoped that was good enough for this client of yours. The soft growl of your stomach interrupts your thoughts. You completely forgot to eat something before leaving due to being so nervous for this ominous, potentially dangerous job. Butterflies twisted your stomach like parasites as the destination neared closer, you felt like you were gonna throw up. You power through it though and turn on some music to calm your nerves and get your mind soothed. The sky still shone with the bright moon still out, the sun still sleeping. . . just like what you should be doing right now. You shake your head dismissing any negative thoughts about this job, you were gonna do fine. . right..? A soft groan leaves you as your mind keeps wondering and complaining about how stupid and unsafe this was for you to be doing.

Pushing away those thoughts, the cars headlights shine on a old looking hotel of sorts. Parking the car nearby you step out, the cold very early morning air hiting your skin almost like a warning, making the nerves on your body be on high alert once more. The gravel crunches under your shoes as you walk twords the hotel. Stepping on the wooden front steps, you're greeted with a briefcase and a walkie talkie placed near the front door. Bending down you open up the briefcase, marveling at how much money there's in it. . just like last time. Abruptly the walkie next to it chimes in, "Thank you for accepting this job offer! Now that you've accepted the full amount of cash, you can now begin the job." the walkie buzzes off as the guy stops talking. You're exciment was short lived as you realized you did have a job to do afterall, debts to pay, things to buy, and of course bills. You stand up with a stretch grabbing the radio and the briefcase. You put the case in the back of your car and walk back to the hotel, you feel unease, your body telling you this isn't a good idea, red flags should've be popping up in your head. But you're clouded with your need for money you trudge on and open up the front door, a loud creak resonates through the deathly quiet, empty lobby. As soon as you step inside the door quickly slams behind you leaving you in the dark for a quick second before the dim lights turn on. Two doors on either side of you and one big door in the middle presumably leading to the rest of the hotel. Each door has a different colour red, blue, yellow and finally purple.

The walkie talkie comes back to life, "Congratulations for making it this far, in all honestly youve made it farther than three quarters of our business partners from before. You seem reliable and more. . .entertaining. .," the voice goes quiet before buzzing back to life, "Anyways! Welcome to my hotel, just a small caution for your job today as a mediator, you'll be working with. .with monsters? Not really that important, anyways start with the red door!" The walkie quickly shuts off without anymore information about the 'monsters'. "W. . Wait?!" Your finger pressed the button on the side of the walkie, "What do you mean 'monsters'?" You question wide eyed into the walkie. . . you recive no response after a minute. You silently curse to yourself as you slowly approch the red labeled door that reads '001' in gold letters. You side eye the barricaded door and windows, realization finally sets in. You can't leave until you're finished with this job. With your attention back on the door you grip the handle and open it, quickly stepping inside.

The door slams behind you making you jump forward a bit, startled again by another door slamming behind you. You squint at the door suspiciously as you turn back around looking around. You step forward into the middle of the room, "Uhhmm. . . Hello?" You say hopefully loud enough for the resident to hear. Before you're able to take in the surroundings something hard hits the back of your head making your vision go black and fall unconscious, the last thing you're able to feel or even hear is "I've got you my. . Superstar," as you feel a pair of hands grab you a little too tight, keeping you from falling face first onto the floor.

A soft buzzing fills your mind as you slowly gain consciousness again. A soft groan escapes your throat as you sit up from the floor, your head hurts like hell. It appears you're in the same spot before you blacked out, it suprises you that youre still alive. As your vision gets unfuzzy there's a tall figure looming over you just. . . staring. "Uhm. . Hello..?" Your voice came out mumbled and quiet as you started back at the supposed monster infront of you, you can't make out what his face looks like due to his hood casting a dark shadow over his face and the red bandana covering the lower part of his face only making one of his eyes visible. In all honestly he doesn't really look like a monster besides his much taller height, but nothing else is distinguishable about him to classify him as a monster.

"I can't belive we can finally meet. . .-" Heavy breathing can be heard coming from him, almost could be distinguished as panting. "-Face to face..," His eyes squint, under that bandana he most likely has a sinister unsettling grin on his face. Just at the thought makes you cringe, internally of course, scared to make any negative reaction could have percussions. You finally register what he said after a moment, your mind trying to catch up with everything, adrenaline spiked a little out of fear, "Do I know. . you?" Your eyes squint suspiciously at the man infront of you, legs moving on their own, you stand up, leaning against the door behind you. The height difference didn't change at all, he was still much. . . much taller than you. Standing at roughly about two meters tall, your eyes widen in shock at the size difference between you both. 'What the hell was this guy?', 'Is he actually a monster?' , 'ARE MONSTERS EVEN REAL?'. Multiple thoughts swarmed your head like bees, are you going crazy? Shaking your head you averted your attention back to the guy infront of you. . He's still staring with his ecstatic squinted eyes, great.

"Of course you know me Superstar, I'm your biggest fan," You froze, goosebumps automatically formed on your skin as you heard that nickname. 'Superstar', could this really be the guy from Dumblr. . .? The air in the room seemed to get thick, making it hard for you to breath. Your hands get sweaty, a shudder runs through your spine. This 'thing' was your stalker. With heightened sense you realize that he's holding an axe. 'Holy fuck he's gonna kill me, I'm dead... im dead... im dead'. Those two words repeat in your head, frozen in fear. With your eyes fixated on the axe he begins to speak again. "Sorry for knocking you out, I thought you were one of those 'pests' who try to break into my room! It's become a habit for me to automatically attack anyone who enters. Good thing i realized it was 'you', my Superstar! Or else you woulve gotten. . . seriously injured." He cocks his head to the side, confused on your spaced out, deer caught in headlights facial expression, not realizing youre staring at the axe.

Responding in a meekly way, "I... It's okay.," Being super freaked out by the fact he could've killed you if he didn't recognized you sent a shock through you. A sudden laugh breaks you out of your trance as your eyes dart back to his face, you realize he's laughing. "PHAHAHAHA!" Being the awkward person you are, nervous and emotionally broken already, in fear he might attack you again, you awkwardly laugh along. "Hah... hahaha.." Your laughs come out more quietly than you wanted them, but he doesn't seem to care. But seriously, you have questions, you need to figure out how to cooperate with this monster and convince him to leave the hotel, afterall you do have a job to do.

Bringing up the courage to yourself to speak as he finally stops laughing, his squinted eyes turning back to their normal predatory gaze. "Are you by chance Nauseaxe_404...?" Raising an eyebrow already knowing the answer, but wanting confirm your suspicions. You see his eyes squint happily with admiration. "Yes! You don't know how long I've waited to finally talk to you, I've tried messaging you on Dumblr but you kept on blocking me.." His voice trailed off slightly, making you feel unease. Both his hands grip on the axe tightend as his breath became labored again. "You. . . You didn't block me on purpose. . hah . . Right?" His red eye glared at you with a subtle twitch, was he really that naive? Did he not realize he was a total creep when leaving those comments on your blogs? "Uh. . Of course not! It's probally some weird Dumblr glitch.." You don't sound sure at all, or even confident, but it was good enough for Nause. His grip on the axe loosened until only he eas holding onto it with one hand, and his shoulders slacked. He blinked and his eye went back to normal as he stood up semi straight again, still a bit hunched over.

"Heheh yeah. I guess it was, haha..," He paused, rubbing his neck. "Well then, what brings you here my Superstar?" He questioned, looking down at you with an unreadable expression, you weren't quite sure how to read him, he was unpredictable. "You need to like. . . leave?" You tried putting it in simple terms in hopes he won't lash out on you. You start feeling unnerved and decide to glance around, all this direct eye contact with him is making you more nervous. Taking in the view around you, you see presumably stapled or tacked printed out pages of writings of some blog? Not just a normal blog, fanfics. . . Holy crap. This guy has been printing off every single one of your posts and sticking them to his walls. He really IS your biggest fan. . . in more appropriate terms 'He really IS a stalker, creep, weirdo, a loser with no life!', gulping at the thought, thankfully your attention is directed back to Nause as he starts speaking again.

"Why 'would' I want to leave?! I have no idea how I got here in the first place. . . but I still have no intentions on leaving." His voice trails off with the hint of festering agitation. Small huffing can be heard from him again, he grips his axe infront of him. You accidently worked him up again, seemed like that was somehow a touchy question, flip. Mentally cursing to yourself you connect the few braincells in your head that haven't fried yet and come up with a excellent plan on how to deal with this freak.

"H. . How about I write a uhm..-" You paused, are you really gonna make the proposition of writing a fanfic for him in exchange for his leave. Yeah. "-If I write you a 'fanfic'. . or something since you seem to enjoy them. . . a lot..," Mumbled as your eyes glance back to the walls full of printed out pictures of your blogs. "If I do that will you please leave this hotel?" Silently pleading, praying, hoping to the man in the sky that he'll accept this offer so you can hurry up and finish this job. His body begins to shake with. . you don't even know at the moment. His eye curves with excitement you presume. "Really? Just for me right? No one else?!" Before you're able to respond he continues, "Could you maybe write them here? Or at least one? I have a old typewriter just incase for this one specific moment I fantasized about fivehundredseventytwothousandeighhundrednintyhundrendedquadrillion times!" You should be surprised but at this point you just want to be done.

"Sure... Sure yeah.." You mumbled with squinted eyes, hoping he wasn't going to make you stay here forever writing endless stories for him. You follow him into a room that has a desk with a laptop and a wooden chair. . . That must be uncomfortable for him, sitting at this desk for how many hours a day, stalking your blog with the shitty hotel wifi, life must suck for this dude no wonder why he's like this. Shaking your head at that absurd intruding thought you eye the chair, is that really what you're gonna have to sit on? Walking over, you sit down. Nause grabs the type writer from a box in the corner of the room, he pushes the laptop to the side and replaces it with the typewriter. He looms behind you, waiting for you to start typing. "Anything. . specific you want me to write?" Quickly you begin to regret the decision of giving him the option to choose what you write. "What about one about me and. . ." You can quite literally feel his breath huffing down on you, his grip on the old chair makes a soft cracking noise at how tight he's holding onto it. "Y. . yeah! Of course!" You quickly say not wanting to hear what else he has to say..., also scared he's gonna hurt you on accident from how worked up he got. Your attention goes back on the type writer, fingers tap against the keys writing whatever comes to your mind.

"Can you make it long....? Like at the minimum one hundred pages maybe?" Your fingers freeze on the keys. "one. . ONE HUNDRED?!" Your eyes widen as you tilt your head up to look at him, his gaze is still unrelenting as ever. "Yes! Since I'm getting a 'real', authentic work of art from you personally. . . I need it to be long.. It needs to take me more than one sitting to read it! PAHAHAHAHA." Who the hell does the guy think he is. "Sure. ." You're cooked, you've only manged to write stories with at the maximum two thousand words, and now you have to achieve like what. . fifty thousand words? Hopefully- "Can you start writing? Sorry to press but you've been looking up at me for a minute now. .NOT that I don't mind. . . pahahahahahaha," Your head slowly tilts back down defeated, no way in hell you can write this much in one sitting, and having to do it sitting on this uncomfortable ass chair and someone watching every word you type. Deciding to lock in with that grindset mindset you begin typing, fingers grazing over the keys as you tap away. With Nause not injecting in every second you're able to actually write.

You've managed to successfully write a solid ten pages. You slump forward dejected. How the actual fuck are you going to finish this. Already ran out of ideas and your ass starting to hurt from the wooden chair. You shift with a soft groan, having completely forgotten about the monster looming right behind you. You jump forward, startled at the sudden voice behind you, tilting your head to see him. "How's it going Superstar? Is the chair treating you well enough PHAHAHAHA." The nerve on this guy. You give him a deadpanned stare before turning your head to face the type writer again. "It's great. Thank you very much..," Sarcasm laced your voice, a small laugh can be heard behind you then in a swift movement Nause picks you up and places you on his lap as he sits down on the chair that 'might' be a little too small for him. Your body tenses up in his grasp as his hands lay comfortably around your waist, keeping you in place. Small huffing can be heard behind you. "You can relax Superstar, I won't be hurting you...yet. phahahahahahahah. . . hah.."

How ominous! You slowly begin typing again, trying to calm your breathing or just yourself in general. But it seems like Nause isn't letting you get anywhere near finishing that damn story. He keeps on poking and prodding you with injections on what you should put in the story. "How about you make me a love interest? Make it where me and you.." His labored breathing starts up again, his grip on you tightening but he doesn't seem to care at your attempts for him to stop. "Y. . Yeah! Okay!" You quickly verbally agree to this idea instead of nodding to his other ones since this one seems to twist something inside him. Gross. His grip slowly loosens as you quickly begin writing again about him and you doing more intimate things like couples would do, but nothing too drastic.

Nause gets more comfortable as your fingers press against the keys, it seems like the noise lulls him to some extent. Was this part of one of his fantasies he's had with you? You start to feel kinda bad for the dude, he's way too obsessed with you. . a nobody. How could someone like this find you alluring? You cautiously lean back into him, oddly finding comfort in this situation. You hear his heavy breathing audibly hitch at the sudden adjustment. His arms snake around your waist completely, entraping you for good now. Not that you were complaining, it felt nice.. and comforting, in a more underlying sickening way. You shouldn't be comfortable around this guy, he's your stalker after all, in all reality did you even know anything about him besides his crippling obsession over you? No, no you didnt, you should be pushing him away but the fear, the fear of him hurting you made you stay in his lap. In the back of your mind you knew how wrong this was, how wrong it was for you to find a small twing of comfort with this sadistic monster. Maybe your desperation, the feeling of finally feeling wanted in your life, finding someone who actually wanted to be by you?

These thoughts made you feel revolted. You were actually feeling disgusted with yourself right now. A sickening feeling wrapped into your stomach, why were you trying to find some light in this situation? Was it to try and manipulate yourself into thinking that you're fine with all of. . this? You've never met anyone like this before. Never seen a person so obsessed. . devoted with you, you didn't want this, not at all. This guy is dangerous, he's unstable, and extremely unpredictable. You 'shouldnt' want this, but knowing that it's wrong only makes you crave it more. When you’re not used to attention, anything feels romantic. The way his arms are wrapped around your body as you try to focus on writing the story infront of you make you feel completed in a way. Nauses chipper voice broke you out of your thoughts, "Can you start to write the more heated stuff now? Just like in your old posts? Can you write about how you and I. ." He begins to list off in very detailed scenarios between you both. You sit there and listen to him talking non stop, you don't even think he took a break to breath. As he continues to rant about multiple of his fantasies that you should write about his grip on you gets tighter. . . and tighter to the point where it feels like he's going to break your ribs.

You yelp. Pathetically, you try to pry his hands off of you but it doesn't work. Realization sets in that he doesn't realize his death grip he has on you. You tilt your head to see him and his gaze is glossed over as he continues to ramble on about his weird fantasies. You look around the room and see that his axe is near the door, too far away to grab.You slowly lose hope, is this how you die, by the hands of your obessor? A cracking noise is what makes him stop. Your breathing chokes as you feel a sudden shot of pain near your chest. 'Did. . did he just break my rib..?' "S..SUPERSTAR? Superstar are you okay?" His voice is laced with faux worry, but you're too out of it to realize, your eyes are glued to where you felt the pain. Multiple thoughts rush through head about the pain, what were you even going to do? Nause picking you up is what breaks you out of the trance. "I think I broke your rib! PHAHAHA." Your eyebrows furrow at his laughing. He didn't seem to feel any remorse or guilt for hurting you. . . you should've known. You're a fool to have thought you felt secure next to him.

The sudden shift in surroundings jolts you out of the haze of pain and fear, as Nause carries you into a different room. The air feels heavier here, suffused with a sense of foreboding that sends shivers down your spine. The mattress beneath you feels cold and unforgiving, a stark contrast to the warmth you once sought in his twisted embrace.As your gaze wanders around the room, you are met with a display of walls adorned with an array of photographs capturing moments of your life, each one a piece of your personal history frozen in time. Surrounding you are intimate details about your existence, laid bare for Nause to see, creating a tapestry of memories and revelations that paint a vivid portrait of your identity, your life. You can't help but feel like a trapped bird, ensnared in a web woven by a predator whose intentions grow darker with each passing moment.

Nause reappeared after a brief moment, holding a small, sleek black container in his hands. As he places it beside you, his tall figure looms over, casting a shadow that seems to engulf the room. "Superstar, may I have a look at where it hurts?" he asks, his one visible eye gazing at you with an innocent curiosity. Feeling a mix of apprehension, you nod hesitantly mumbling unsure "S. . Sure," propping yourself up with your elbows. Slowly, you lift your shirt, revealing the area where your ribs are already bruising. Nause opens the container, revealing its contents - soft gauze and a cold ice pack, promising relief from the pain that gnaws at you. He begins to slowly wrap the ice pack with gauze around the side where your rib was broken, the coldness makes your body shudder and goosebumps form on your skin. His movements are carefully slow, as if he's doing it on purpose. As you finally begin to come down from your shock of how much pain you were in, soft labored breathing can be heard next to you. You wonder how long he's been like that, was him bandaging you up really making him act up. . again?

With a nervous gaze, you watch as his hands slowly guide the gauze just under chest, his eyes were trained on your exposed flesh. You cringe slighty as you notice, is that what was really bothering him? Seeing half your torso exposed? "Did you know this was one of my scenarios I've thought of before?!" Nauses somehow chipper voice rings through the quiet room. Holy fuck, he broke your rib on purpose. This revolution makes your body shudder with disgust? Anger? You couldn't really tell at the moment. "Oh. . Oh really. ." You mumbled out under your breat, distaste laced your . Nause finishes up bandaging you up and sets the container on the floor next to the bed. You quickly pull your shirt down with the energy you have left. You lay back down on the dingy bed now just feeling how tired. . exhausted you were. A sigh leaves you as your hands rub against your face, leaving them there for a second before letting then fall to your sides.

Frustration boiled inside you. This job was suppost to be quick and easy, you wernt prepared for this, for 'any' of this. This was most likely some sort of trap from your client. He set you up for failure. "Superstar, you should really get some rest. You still need to finish writing my one hundred pages story!" Your tired eyes glanced over to him, his towering frame made you feel small, pathetic. "Yeah. . goodnight.." You managed to muster out, turning around so your back faced him. Pulling the blanket up to your face, nuzzling into it. Sleep quickly came over to you. Should it worry you that he's watching you sleep? Yeah, and should you be on guard? Probally, but you've lost hope. You never really had a chance in the first place, did you?

A soft groan left your throat as you woke up, the pain from your broken rib quickly reminding you where you were. Rolling over on your back with a yawn you almost choke on your breath as you see Nause still standing over the bed. . watching you. "Were you there. . . all night?" You question him with a raised brow, you were seriously concernedfor this guy. "Of course! I had to make sure my Superstar was safe!" Of course, what more did you expect from him. You hiss out in pain as you sit up. "Can I get like an advil or something?" Your hand holds the spot where the now semi cold ice pack sits, you don't bother telling him about the temperature of it, you don't want to risk him overwhelming himself again and hurting you. . again. He seems to pause for a second, letting out an unsure noise. "I don't really have anything like that here. .The only reason I got that ice pack and stuff for you was from one of my neighbors. ." Sheepishly he rubbed the back of his neck his eye twitched with agitation, you wondered about why he couldn't just go over next door and ask for some pain meds but you didn't wanna pester him about it, he didn't seem to have the best relationship with the other residents here.

"BUT! To take your mind off of the pain you can continue writing!" Oh right, you still had to write about fifty more pages for his psychotic fanfic about you both. With the typewriter on standby he carefully sets it in your lap, to your suprise it wasn't as heavy as you thought it would be. Leaning back on the adjusted pillows behind you, you began writing. Deciding to cheap your way out, you typed every word with doubled letters to make the pages fill out quicker. After awhile, you were able to make the pages filled out faster than normal, but you quickly ran out of ideas. "Do you 'really' need a hundred pages? Im running out of ideas. Can't these perfectly crafted fifty pages be go-," Nause quickly cuts you off. "NO! I NEED those one hundred pages. I need. . . hah. ." His voice trails off as his breathing starts to get harder. In a swift motion he yanks his axe out, his grip tight on the handle, his eyes clouded with god knows what as he glares at you.

"Y. . Yeah! Of courseee..." You quickly agree scared of the axe welding monster infront of you. His grip slowly falters as his breathing goes back to normal after a couple of moments. "PAHAHAHA. . HAH.. I know how to help you!" Your expression quickly dropped, what could he mean by that? He could do litteraly anything to 'help' you, what he thinks could be 'help' could be the complete opposite to you. Multiple ideas infected your head, multiple terrible ideas, you were terrified on what he was about to do. "Since you need inspiration how about I help get your little mind in gear again!" His hand pulled down his bandana showing his sinister grin that laced his face, his sharp teeth gleamed in the dimly lit bedroom. "PHAHAHA!" He began to hysterically laugh again as he crawled onto the bed with you, on top of you. "W. . wha . ." The words you want to get out in protest, to question what he's about to do, they get stuck in your throat from fear. All you can do is stare up at him petrified with wide eyes, mouth agap.

"You don't know how long I've waited for this. .!" His eye gleamed down at you happily, in his sick twisted mind this way his way of helping you. After a moment of him just looking at you and you not giving a response, his head tilted to the side in confusion. His expression turned to one of a kicked puppy, his once toothy grin frowned. "What's the matter? Why arnt you excited? Isn't this what you've wanted?" He questioned looking confused, and a little heart broken. "I've read all your stories and one of them sounds just like this! A tall, handsome, good looking monster with an axe gets with you. I already know that the story was about me, the description matches. So. . . isn't this what you want?" You freeze, did you actually write something like that? You don't remember at all, you begin to doubt his truthfulness and think he made that up on the spot just to try and manipulate you. But, another thought did cloud your mind. When in your whole life are you going to get another chance to fuck a monster? You start to see the appeal of him, his grey skin, sinister gaze, size difference, and the fact he could kill you? A whole package deal to be honest.

"I. . I guess." Reluctantly you agree, if there's a chance you're going to die, you'll die happy. You wince under his gaze, his eyes squint happily once more as his toothy grin appears again. "Great! Even if you said no I was going to anyways!" He admits nonchalantly, what did you expect, of course he would. "Now let's get those creative gears in your head flowing with endless ideas!" His voiced changed into a slutry tone as his gaze clouded with undying lust. With his head lowered and his face just inches from yours, you can see a long, black tongue slithering out of his mouth. A soft gasp leaves your mouth at the sight, at the opportunity Nause connects his mouth with yours. His tongue snaked into your mouth, causing you to let out a choked gasp. He then left you with a sated moan as his tongue roamed around in your mouth. His hands creeped under your shirt, his rough fingers pawed at the exposed flesh of your sides, seemingly trying to ground himself.

As his knee forcefully inserted itself between your thighs rubbing against you, it felt divine. A choked whimper left your lips at the feeling, you don't even remember the last time someone was this intimate with you, it was making you feel light headed. . . No it wasn't because of that, it was the fact that Nause wasn't budging when you needed air, now. Your eyes shot open as your hands relentlessly pushed and pathetically punched against his chest, he was unmoving. With your vision starting to blur you resorted to your last idea, your hand moved down to his crotch and roughly squzzed. A low moan left his mouth as he pulled back from you panting heavily. "PHAHAHAHA. Superstar. . hah.," He stares down at your hand, licking his lips before reaching down and grabbing it. His large hand wrapped around your wrist pushing your hand harder onto him.

A low satisfied groan leaves him as he ruts against your hand. "N. .Nause..," You spoke barley above a whisper, your eyes were glued to the scene infront of you, his large clothed cock rubbing against your hand. Fuck, there's no way that was fitting inside you in anyway. "Superstar. ." His eyes never left your face. "I. . wait a second, how did it go again.." He mumbled more to himself as he took his hand off of yours and searched his pockets. After a moment he took a piece of carefully folded paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, his eyes scanned the page. "Nause. . . what is that." You could already assume it was one of your fictive stories. "It's one of my favorite pieces by you! I just forgot how it went. . bear with me for a moment Superstar. . .!" His voice trailed off twords the end as he concentrates on re freshing his memory up on supposedly what he wants to do. "Aha! Now get ready for a once in a life time experience. . . PAHAHAHAHA." He shoves the paper back into his pocket, his predatory gaze looks down at your lower abdomen. His fingers quickly did work of your pants tugging them off and discarding them on the floor.

His breathing begins to get labored again and if pupils could have heart eyes that's what he would have right now. "Finally. .!" He gets situated inbetween your thighs, now laying on his stomach, his head resting on the inner of your thigh and his callused fingers lazily tracing along the already damp clothed slit of your entrance. In a swift sudden motion he pulls his axe out from his back, holding onto the butt of the axe he slowly cuts off your underwear. Your body freezes as you stare down at him with wide, scared, yet desperate eyes. Maybe him using the axe turned you on, just a little bit. His axe hovered over the bare skin of your thighs, he seemed lost in a trance as he traced light lines above your skin.

"N. .Nause?!" Catiously you warned him with a slight waver in your tone, scared he was actually going to cut you. "PAHAHAHAHA. . . HAH.. Sorry." He haphazardly tosses the axe off the side of the bed, a thud resonates in the room from the heavy axe. "Now where were we!?" He stares at you briefly before redirecting it down to your exposed cunt. His fingers traced along your folds, letting his fingers get drenched in your slick. With his mouth hovering over your clit, he experimentally takes a long lick on it. You squirm at the feeling, thighs instinctively wanting to close, his free hand holds onto one of your thighs making sure you're spread open for him. His two fingers quickly pump in and out of you as his tongue circles and softly sucks on your clit. The obscene squeltch of your pussy sends a blush across your face, with his relentless bullying of his fingers in you, curling up into every time he pushed them in. Your hips jerked as you felt the familiar feeling of your high building up in your stomach.

Soft pants filled the room as you neared your peak, your hands gripped onto Nauses head pushing him more into you, the feeling of his tongue swirling around on you became too much. A soft moan left your mouth as you clenched around his fingers, coating them with your cum. The low groan that left Nause vibrated against you, causing your hips to jerk slighty due to the stimulation. "PAHAHA. Did I do good Superstar?" He asked teasingly while sucking hard on your clit. "Mmphh.." Is all you manage to reply from the overstimulation. Nause leans back after a moment, allowing you to catch your breath. "Now let's get to the real show! HAH. ." His unerving grin never leaving his face as he undoes the clasp of his grayish belt, quickly yanking his pants down discarding them on the floor.

You're now able to see his clothed member strained against the confines of his briefs, there's a wet spot near his tip from how much pre cum he's leaking. Your eyes widen at just how big he is again realizing that there's no way he's gonna be able to fit all of that in you. "Feeling nervous? PAHAHAHA. You look so cute when you're scared. . hehe..!" His hands grab at your shirt ripping it off of you, then unclasping your bra leaving you completely nude underneath him. His hands find there way to your chest and paw at your breast's, taking in the nip inbetween his fingers and tweening it. The noises filling in the room are your soft whines and whimpers and Nauses concerning hard breathing. "Nause. ." You mewl out impatiently. "Sorry! They're just so soft..HAH..heh.." He pinches them once more before pulling off his briefs. With him now exposed he grabbed the back of your thighs hastily, pushing them up to your chest.

"You don't know how long I've waited for this!" With his neurotic gaze set on yours he roughly pushes himself inside, pained whimpers filled the room as tears filled the corners of your eyes. The sudden intrusion with no warning did not prepare you at all. He's only able to stuff about half of himself inside you due to his size. You guess due to him being freakishly tall with a huge build he was bound to have a big cock. "So small.." He mutters with a groan into your neck. "All mine. ." He pulls out and slowly ruts back in clumsy, your gummy walls desperately try to adjust to his size. With each thrust, his movements get harsher, more needy, all consuming. With his face nuzzled into your neck, you feel something slick slither around your neck before a quick shot of pain envelopes on your shoulder.

Nause bites rather harshly, letting his teeth sink in just enough to draw blood. His tongue laps up the blood eagerly, you can feel his dick throb inside you as he gets closer to his release. His hand moves down and his rough thumb sloppily rubs circles on your clit, a choked moan leaves you at the overwhelming sensations. You thought he would be talking this whole time but he seems too caught up in the feeling to care. With his thrusts getting more sloppy and the pleasure building up in your stomach becoming too much, you clench around Nauses cock, closing your eyes at the feeling letting out a moan as you ride out your climax. Shortly after Nause rocks his hips into a few more times before shoving himself back in roughly. You shudder at the feeling of him filling you up, harsh breaths fill your ears as he's gripping onto you like you'll leave.

He stays on top of you, holding onto you as his cock slowly softens inside of you. He pulls out, laying beside you, his arms hugging you from behind, face comfortably nuzzled in your hair, taking in the scent. The feeling is comforting, as you hear his breathing soften behind you sleep begins to lull you. You sleep comfortably in Nauses arms, the dread of having to write those pages and the task of removing Nause from this room leaves your mind as sleep over takes you. The pain of your rib being forgotten, that was going to be a pain when you woke up.