#so that its not attached to the other episode
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soft-pine · 2 days ago
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the thing about supernatural season 1 episode 13 route 666 is that cassie robinson is the most beautiful woman i have ever seen.
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she is also a truly phenomenal, compelling, dynamic character and it sucks she's only in one episode!
but what an episode it is. i think similarly to bugs, route 666 gets a lot of hate. and, again, i'm not going to defend it against people who do experience it negatively. but the way route 666 simply lays out the truth of the racial violence black people experience is pretty straightforward and uncompromising. it's important the way it just says: white people controlled the town, the police, the paper, the violence, the courts. and that's so bad. it's important the way it reaffirms so so many times that none of that was very long ago at all. it's important the why it says that that violence and injustice was so extreme that it haunts and stalks the present and still has the power to kill.
i hope i'm saying this in a way that makes sense. but i love the way both bugs and route 666 clearly name historical injustices and thematically show how the ramifications of that injustice and violence are still deeply present today. supernatural doesn't often handle politicized things head on and it is kind of fascinating to me that the two episodes with some of strongest politics happen in season 1.
i have a few other stray thoughts about this episode... 1. as a tractor operator it kills me that that little kubota is able to pull a water-logged truck out of a lake with its tires that deep in mud (i can't actually make out the model of the tractor (just the loader arm attachment) but, affectionately, no way).
2. it is always so special to me that dean's first on-screen romance is with his long-term ex. commitment boy i love you.
3. "i'm still really involved with my dad's work." spams the spiral-eyes emoji
4. i love that dean told cassie the truth about his life and hunting. i love that he didn't want to lie to her! it's kinda crazy that sam yells at him for it because sam never told jess. like dude no one was stopping you?
5. why did they make the racist truck look so much like john's gmc? like okay i know this is kinda a stretch (there's lots of kinds of big black trucks) maybe but it always reminds me of the grand sierra...
6. okay again we see dean just decide to play the role of bait to give sam time to work out a plan. but the plan sam works out is for dean to play even riskier bait (without communicating that!!). dean's shocked, pitched-up voice and stressed-out slamming his hands on the steering wheel, ough oof ow owie yeoch.
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tobiasdrake · 2 days ago
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Dragon Ball Daima, episode 5. Time to meet the new girl for realsies.
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For like forty years.
Goku's leaving out information that's extremely relevant to the new girl's question. The reason he has the skills of a middle-aged martial arts master is because that is literally what he is.
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We're still going to the castle? I thought we turned around to go chase the Dragon Ball instead. Maybe I misunderstood.
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Gloom n' Doom was trying to leave her behind but we all know who the real star is, and he accepts bribes in exchange for friendship.
He also accepts friendship without bribes. He's just nice. But he's not gonna turn down some onigiri if you're offering.
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We have a name! Between Glorio and Panzy, it seems the denizens of Daimakai have flowers for their name pun theme.
(Goku, you named your son after rice. You have no room to talk.)
Not sure if the exchange over whose name is weirder is meant to be a parallel to Goku's first meeting with Bulma. Very rarely do the punny names get called out as funny in-universe.
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They're going the "Everyone has their own unique superpower" route for the Majin, I see. And Panzy's is....
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Telekinesis.
We've seen telekinesis a few times. Chiaotzu and Guldo are the most prolific telekinetic characters. But they're also...
Like. They both kinda fall into the category of "Characters who got exactly one fight and then fucked off or died." We've never had a character who was important to the plot and had abilities centered around psychic powers.
I hope that's about to change but Dragon Ball is notoriously terrible with its female characters so I'm not taking anything for granted.
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Panzy is completely ruining Glorio's vibe as our solemn guide to the demonic lands and he can die mad about it. XD
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Weird thing to have a character say before cutting to a montage of everyone pleasantly sightseeing with no trouble whatsoever while happy fun-time music plays in the background.
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The front gate is HUNGRY OM NOM NOM NOM
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Is....
...is the plan to raise Baby Dende like an ordinary child over the course of many years so that he imprints on Gomah and comes to see this castle and its occupants as his home and family?
Is that what we're doing here?
(Wouldn't he still have his memories? Goku and the others do.)
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Oh, she is definitely like the king's daughter or something. There's a reason she happens to know the most convenient way to and from the castle. Glorio needs to learn how to read a room.
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You know, I really thought they were gonna tease that out a bit longer.
She's got her own distinct style to her but she's definitely a bootleg copy of Bulma. Child genius female super-mechanic who attaches herself to Goku after seeing how powerful he is and happens to be the daughter of the most rich and powerful family in the region. There's visibly a lot of Bulma in her character DNA.
Even her logo on the front of her shirt often looks like a C because of the stuff covering it.
Which is kinda making me start to wonder if Glorio is a bootleg copy of Future Trunks. Grim and serious demeanor, showing up out of nowhere in a magical fantasy vehicle, leaning on a weapon but also being able to fight without it, that jacket... Huh.
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HAHAHA NO
Goku, sure, but Kaioshin is one whole Fuck No in the realm of fighting Majin Buu. It is thoroughly established that he'd be up shit creek without a paddle in a straight fight with Buu.
...
In fact, so is Goku. The only form of Buu that Goku has ever been a match for is Fat Buu. And that is strictly hypothetical, based on Goku's impression of Buu versus how strong Super Saiyan 3 is supposed to be..
Strictly hypothetically, his Super Saiyan 3 could waste Pure Buu too. We all saw how well that worked out.
"Wait but wasn't Goku holding back so Vegeta could have a turn?"
Common misconception but no. Vegeta accuses Goku of that, but Goku was sincerely giving Buu his all and getting wrecked. Super Saiyan 3 is the only form Goku has that can match Buu on paper, but Super Saiyan 3's drawbacks prevent it from being able to match Buu in practice.
So. Uh. No. There is not a single person in this room that can cash the check that Glorio's stupid mouth has written. Not counting sequel series that haven't taken place yet at this point in the timeline, the only time Goku has ever been on Buu's level was when he had Vegeta to fuse with.
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Seems legit. I like the cut of his jib. We should definitely make him king.
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He commodifies women as bargaining chips to be bought and sold by their fathers. I don't like the cut of his job. We should not make him king.
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Goku proving himself by fighting all the royal guards at once is a fun fight, well animated, and nicely paced. But I particularly enjoyed this moment.
Goku transforming to Super Saiyan not to actually go Super Saiyan but just to use the burst of ki that comes from it as a radial attack to blow the goons away. Weaponizing the power-up itself.
Some real "Shazam hits his opponent with the transformation lightning bolt" energy going on here.
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...
I legit thought this guy was going to, like, reveal some sort of power that lets him teleport directly to Earth and then bring back Vegeta, Bulma, and Piccolo in a snap.
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I'm looking forward to having Panzy on the team. Especially when Bulma gets here. I can't wait for Bulma to meet Discount Bulma.
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doctor-who-binge · 3 months ago
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The Girl Who Waited
I love The Girl Who Waited is one of my favorite episodes ever. It is the proof that she loves Rory more than she could ever love The Doctor. The biggest showcase of Amy & Rory's character development.
Rory is more reliable than The Doctor and she knows it. This was a theme throughout series 6, she was talking about Rory while kidnapped by The Silence and Rory thought it was The Doctor. Her reaction when Rory tells her that he thought it might have been The Doctor was an amazingly acted "HIM?" with a what the fuck expression. Its also shown when Rory defiantly tells The Doctor "She can always hear me Doctor and she always knows I'm coming." Then again when she is talking to baby Melody and the speech makes it sound likes shes speaking about The Doctor only to have the twist at the end of the people of earth knowing him as the last centurion.
But The Girl Who Waited is just absolutely in your face about this fact. It is the entire damn episode.
Its apparent though every goddamn aspect:
Amy says "Rory I love you. ... now save me" Its not a request to The Doctor at first, I never noticed that before. (Thats the line that prompted me to gush about this episode) She trusts that's Rory is the one that will have to do it.
She doesn't say "I hate you" to Rory even though she seems angry with him, but she says with a lot of conviction she hates The Doctor more than shes ever hated anyone in her life.
Rory says he doesn't care that she got old he cares that they didn't grow old together and when she angrily talks about being in solitary confinement she speaks to The Doctor not Rory.
She asks Rory "stay or go" when she heads into the Garden, again showing she isn't going to write off Rory. Then he make her laugh so easily the first time in 36 years, showing so much chemistry from only 3 lines of script
She named a robot Rory because she "needed a bit of company" and when the Doctor tries to make her feel guilty about taking the hands off she mockingly calls him the voice of god. Which is later repeated by her daughter river who says "when one is in love with an ageless god who insists on the face of a 12 year old".
THEN, THEN when older Amy says "they didn't save you, they get in their TARDIS and fly away" and younger Amy immediately says "No Rory wouldn't, not ever, something must have stopped him" younger Amy didn't even fucking mention The Doctor when protesting older Amy's idea. Because The Doctor certainly WOULD do something like that because he has before. Twice in the 11th hour and she even says in the Christmas special "please Doctor don't be late this time"
THEN IT GETS EVEN FUCKING BETTER when older Amy says "and thats why you'll refuse [to save yourself] when its your turn and nothing you can say will change that." Younger Amy knows immediately that there is something she can say and its so simple "3 words, what about Rory?" When older Amy smiles about the fact that she named her robot Rory younger Amy without hesitation says "so you didn't name it The Doctor or biggles our favorite cat" and they both laugh over memories of him.
Younger Amy begins talking about meeting people, and it ends with both younger Amy and older Amy saying at the exact same time "Rory's the most beautiful person I've ever met"
Then this line of dialogue:
Younger Amy: please, do it for him
Older Amy: You're asking me to defy destiny, causality, the nexus of time itself, for a boy
Younger Amy: You're Amy, hes Rory, and oh yes I am.
Older Amy to Rory: I'm going to rip time apart for you *kisses and hugs him*
She never actually seems angry at Rory. Shes heartbroken over Rory but legitimately hates The Doctor.
"Its not about what I'm doing its about who I am doing it for, I'm trusting you to watch my back" To which Rory replies with zero hesitation. "Always, you and me, always"
Both Amys are able to think of the most important thing without consulting each other and its about Rory. Their first kiss specifically.
This next line alone encapsulates all her character development since The 11th hour. Older Amy says "Amy pond in the TARDIS with Rory Williams." Remember she ran away from Rory with The Doctor in season 5 up until Vampires of Venice when The Doctor decides he has to come because Amy wanted to have basically a one night stand with The Doctor. Amy even seems hesitant to bring him at first.
"The look on your face when you carried her away... her... you use to look at me like that, I'd forgotten how much you loved me. I forgot how much I loved being her" She forgot just how much she loved being his wife, the Amy Pond that was with Rory. Not the Amy in solitary confinement for 36 years without him.
Rory legitimately has problems trying to pick "which Amy" to save. The Doctor forces Rory to make that decision. Rory clearly sees both of them as his Amy, his wife, and there is incomprehensible anguish for Rory to let older Amy die.
At the end older Amy has to die and Rory simply can't handle it, he can't make the decision between which Amy to save. So to help him older Amy make the decision for him. "If you love me don't open that door" and Rory just can't handle it. Its so obvious how much he loves older Amy just as much, no different than "the real Amy" and older Amy says "tell her I'm giving her the days.... the days with you" then the fantastically poetic line she says to her husband "take them please I'm giving you my days"
Also I never really thought about the "This Amy will have never existed" bit in the episode and how it seems that even the Doctor is trying to convince himself that its true... when its not
Rory screams at the Doctor "you can't leave her she'll die." the Doctor tries to reason that she will mever have existed to which Rory yells "But she happened, shes there!!!" Remember his 1000 years technically didn't happen, but he can remember it. Season 5 was constantly talking about how time can be unwritten but things are never forgotten "not really", "if it can be remembered it can come back." The Doctor yells that older Amy isn't real but Rory knows she is, he knows that his 1000 years was real even if it "never existed"
The Doctor knew from the beginning he was saving younger Amy but had to lie to Rory, because he knows not only would older Amy object to The Doctor not saving her, Rory would also object. We see that The Doctor really is the bad guy. Rory states that "this isn't fair, you're turning me into you" He won't even answer Rory candidly when asked if he always knew that he couldn't save both he simply states "I said I'd save her and there she is"
The following episode The Doctor has to force Amy to lose her faith in him. Which she does. And it doesn't break her. The Doctor gives her and Rory a house and a car and they go and live their life. She doesn't need him anymore
Goddamnit I fucking love this episode. Its like a sequel to Amy's Choice. The episode that forces Amy to pick in the love triangle and how she genuinely doesn't know until Rory dies, in this episode both Amys know that its Rory with zero hesitation.
Tangentially related:
Rory: THIS IS YOUR FAULT. MAYBE LOOK IN A HISTORY BOOK AND SEEN IF THERE IS AN OUTBREAK OF PLAGUE
Doctor: That is NOT how I travel
Rory: THEN I DO NOT WANT TO TRAVEL WITH YOU
Is chefs fucking kiss I love the Doctor being told off. Same vibes when Clara yelling at him (12) about how he walks their Earth.
On a lighter note:
..... why isn't anyone else in her red waterfall for 36 years? Even the sick patients wouldn't want to live in solitary for a life time only able to have company when in the magnifying glass room.
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antennatoheaven · 2 years ago
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meta knight is the character ever. he got to wish for literally anything he wanted and he wished to fight against the strongest warrior in the galaxy, he has zero communication skills, he didn't like how everyone lazes around all day so he decided to overthrow the government and failed, his ship has his face plastered on the front for no reason, he decided to go down with said ship, he has a strict moral code but is willing to throw hands with an 8 year with no hesitation, he keeps getting his ass kicked by said 8 year old, he has a sweet tooth and feels the need to hide it even though literally everyone around him loves sweets. he's punched jk rowling in the face
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episodeoftv · 1 year ago
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I was feeling impatient so I decided to end the first poll early since these two were pretty far in the lead
Edit: consider what you would submit‚ what you’d vote for‚ stuff like that
Also note that this is only one day long SPEEDROUND
After I get the results of this‚ I’ll probably post a submissions form within the day.
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navree · 1 month ago
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the concept of having children being so tied into political ambitions and machinations throughout history means that a lot of people do seem to straight up forget that these people were, like, family, and likely acted as such a lot of the time
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mo-ok · 10 months ago
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TWICE. LOST GALAXY HAS SHOWN AN UNSUITED GINGAMAN CHARACTER T W I C E. FIRST GOUKI AND NOW SHELINDA I AM LOSING MY MIND
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sweetzscore · 1 year ago
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I am not handling the ending to MD Ep.6 well. Im just refusing to accept it. Nuh uh
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cowboysmp3 · 6 months ago
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watching naruto post ep 143 is soooo... whatever
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pollyannaswag · 1 year ago
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remember in s5 of sailor moon classic when chibi chibi was introduced at first and they didn't know where tf she came from and for a hot second it was definitely implied that she was usagi and seiya's kid from the future. bc that was absolutely insane
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maemil · 2 years ago
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Finally made it to the first appearance of Barriss on my rewatch and I genuinely forgot just how cute the interactions between her and Ahsoka are... the scene at the end of Brain Invaders where they're both freezing and Ahsoka is holding Barriss in her arms is just! Altered ten year old me's brain chemistry permanently.
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silbeni · 8 months ago
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Brewing an alt timeline w Ryoma in the Rohan live action
#idek if duwang gang exists in that universe even so#its a lot more ryohan focused#in da lore Ryohan gets art block and starts to live in squalor#izumi visits him and shes like damn you live like this and either she sends a house keepers or he does#he gets a list of candidates and Ryoma is in that list#shes notably less qualified than anyone else and she got there by recommendation#blah blah blah Rohan starts interviewing the potential housekeepers and he doesnt like any of them until ryoma#Rohan tries to read Ryoma but it activates gadzooks and starts making him into tape instead#eventually Ryo gets gadzooks to stop and theyre super apologetic#but Rohans like. THIS IS THE ONE (thinking he can get inspiration from them)#i believe thus spoke rohan kishibe rohan (live action) doesn't knows about other stand users#so this would be exciting for him. ryoma would be so confused to be accepted but thankful bc they really needed that job#their relationship starts out distant and professional but morphs into something more casual as time goes on#to the point ryoma is essentially just being paid to be his friend skabs they still try to do work but he doesn't require that of them#ryoma feels bad not working.. like shes just being a leech#around this time ryoma gets upgraded to working 24/7 there so they basically live together#rahh im just thinking of cute stuff now <3 Rohan gets sick and hes a huge drama queen about it. ryoma doesn't mind pampering him though#but of course there are also evils. thinking of an episode plot where a creature attached like. a time bomb to Ryoma. paranormal stuff#saw trap ish? blow yourself up or i explode all of morioh type thing. (or wherever the heck they live)#not sure if rohan lives in morioh in that universe yeah#Anyway gn
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vaugarde · 2 years ago
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wtf. thing
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infamous-if · 2 months ago
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✭INFAMOUS UPDATE IS HERE ✭
238K -> 457K WORDS
Please read this post before playing! It's finally here! After five months of writing and rewriting and salvaging and crying and sweating and bleeding I finally finished sort of kind of! Firstly, I want to thank you for your patience and understanding over this duration of this rewrite. It was stressful at times but I'm happy with the end result and I hope everyone else will be too :)
This will be the last chapter I release without beta testers/other sets of eyes so expect errors. I can playtest until my fingers turn blue but I'm just one person </3 I'm bound to have missed stuff.
Please let me know of errors! I tested it a few times with no problems but we know how it goes lol
IN THIS CHAPTER THREE UPDATE:
drama
mayhem
chaos
some betrayal
some surprises
just...read it lmao
PROLOGUE - CHAPTER 2 CHANGES:
**chapter two was too large of a file to upload on dd so I had to split it last minute and I uhhhh dont know how that translates in the demo but it should work lol please let me know if its wonky!**
fixed up grammatical errors and typos
expanded some scenes and added some more choices
you can now choose that your mc has "changed" in some way (drinking, no longer drinking, partier, no longer a partier, negative, positive, attached, detached, or a general default. I was asked to add an MC who "gets around" or hookups a lot but I'm still debating on whether I'll add that since there's already quite a bit lolol)
you can choose to have changed your band's genre before/after seven
TECHNICAL CHANGES:
you will be able to explicitly state your sexuality in the beginning. this was a big ask and I apologize for not doing it earlier! I wasn't good at coding when I started and I knew I always wanted to make the genders separate from MC's sexuality but I didn't know how to do that at the start :) So you can still choose the genders of the ROs for story purposes and variety. IF YOU DO NOT SEE ROMANCE OPTIONS THAT IS NOT A BUG. You simply chose a RO gender that doesn't correlate with the sexuality you chose for your MC. Having said that, if you do see a romance option available and it's not supposed to be there please let me know! That means I may have missed it coding-wise.
the stats have been all fixed! I've added all the necessary variables and such. The stat portion of the game has been updated with the appropriate pages but they're not finished. Still, the stats should be fine.
You will now have confessionals in the stat page! The feature still isn't a thing yet because I haven't come up with the confessionals lolol but you can click on it to see what it's about. Essentially, as you progress through the story you will be able to see confessionals from the cast of Infamous throughout. They disappear and appear periodically so if you miss it, THAT'S IT! You won't get a chance to see them again until MC watches an episode where it's relevant.
There is now a: Discography page, Infamous wiki, botb cast and staff page, and other characters page for organization. Those are not finished but they're there!
I changed a few stat names but their functions remain the same.
You will be able to choose how you would like to be described (masculine, feminine, neither, both).
O is officially gender-selectable.
You can set the genders of the ROs at the start or wait till you meet them.
PLAY HERE
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evil-maryland · 2 months ago
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:D
OOC: NOTE THINGY
20 Notes and ill tell my parents i want psychological help again
100 Notes and ill study ahead in french
200 Notes and ill study ahead in maths(god no)
700 Notes and ill study the whole next theme for the rest of this year for history
1000 Notes and ill actually take care of myself
1500 Notes and ill do own brain studies n stuff
2000 Notes and ill actually do the damn thing ive been trying to do
EDIT1: i forgot to add rules.... maryland pls only like an eight of the postlimit max (this includes all ur blogs) everyone else free tho
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tiredmamaissy · 5 months ago
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Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode V
Something is Brewing
Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info
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🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞
Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!
Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20)
Warnings: explicit pregnancy smut, pregnancy fluff, pregnancy angst [for the plot], pregnancy [this chapter is entirely about pregnancy if you haven't caught my drift, just giving you guys a proper warning], age gap, mood swings, cravings, nausea, vomiting, reader is very clumsy, intimate/invasive medical treatment, rut cycle, sexual tension, pregnant sex, p in v, titty fucking, cum eating (m and f), oral sex (m and f), masturbation, exhibitionism (kinda, not really), lactation kink
Word Count: 17.5k (this takes the cake, i apologize)
Requested: Yes || No
Author’s Note: Hey guys! Thank you all for being so patient with me as usual. I had planned to post this chapter earlier, but with the help of @zestys-stuff, we made a last minute change to the chapter. This will definitely cause some changes in the next chapter, so I’m going to work on that right away. I won’t lie, I’m really nervous to publish this one. It's been a while and I’ve ventured into some new territory where I’ve introduced a couple of new themes and -drumroll- a new character. There are parts of this chapter that can possibly cause discomfort (technically, all of this could), so I urge you guys to proceed with caution and click off if you do feel uncomfortable in any way. Aside from that, it’s good to be back (again, lol) and I hope you enjoy!
Synopsis: A timeline of your pregnancy with Ralak’s child, shown through a series of flashbacks of your most prominent milestones—some of which foreshadow something bigger to come…
<- Previous -> Next
Pregnancy is tough. 
A beautiful blessing, but tough nonetheless. With its own set of hardships, uniquely tailored to your own being. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. A sore back, chest, ankles…the list is seemingly endless. The shift in moods, the fatigue. Adjusting to an entire new being growing inside you—one that sucks the nutrients straight from your bones and blood—has your body overcompensating.  
At first it was a dream. 
No life-changing symptoms. It was smooth sailing for the first few weeks. Life went on as usual. If anything, others were more reactive to your pregnancy than you were. Your skimwing became aggressive towards Ralak, snapping at him and whipping her tail, treating him as a threat rather than a companion. He was more than understanding, as it’s common for the protective instinct to kick in when the tsurak senses their rider is with child.  
More importantly, it was an urge that Ralak shared with the beast.
You watch as your tendrils intertwine with your skimwing, and how they come together with a rough tug. You let out a rugged breath and the beast beneath you starts to writhe. Ralak instinctively grasps at the harness to steady you and— 
Slash. 
Your trsuak whips her spiked tail at your mate, who blocks it with his strake.
“Shit.” You gasp, tugging at the leather strap and patting her neck to subdue her. “I thought I was in control. Are you alright?”
Ralak nods, his hair now soaked and plastered to his chest. He simply chuckles, respectfully and cautiously approaching the beast with an open hand. Despite this, your tsurak continues to thrash, repeatedly snapping her snout open and shut. Ralak clicks melodically a few times, and her pupils blow and constrict as she calms down. He strokes her snout with one hand, and lays his other on your thigh, gripping it lightly.
“She senses that you are with child.” 
“She does?”
“Yes. That is why she protects you. I understand the feeling.” His accent is thick on his tongue. 
——
Then the nausea came. It was… unbearable. Insufferable. It was almost frightful, actually. Not being able to stomach anything really brought down a sense of dread upon your shoulders. Most days, you found yourself worried about the budding life inside you more than yourself. 
Was he getting enough? Would he develop properly if you went another day without eating? 
Ralak was more worried about you, of course. Going to great lengths to find something you could stomach. Spoon feeding you as you laid down all day from the gut churning nausea. Washing the sick out of your hair when you missed the bucket at your bedside. Detangling and braiding it for you to keep it clean and out of your face. Releasing his pheromones—your only relief—just to put you to sleep at night. 
t.w. nausea, vomiting.
In the crisp night, a wave of nausea washes over you, waking you from your sleep. Typically, this is the only time you have a break from the nausea—your slumber. That, and the first ten minutes after throwing up.
You quickly hurl over, grabbing and heaving into your bedside bucket, something that's rightfully earned its spot at your side. Ralak jolts awake, sitting up behind you to gather your hair into his fist, rubbing your back as you retch. 
“Alrigght.” He hums lengthily. “Get it up.”
Finally, you stop. You gasp and pant for air, sitting up only to collapse back into him. “I h-hate this–haah.”
“I do, too.” He grits, reaching over you for the rag at your bedside, and wiping your mouth.
He hates seeing you so sick. He’s tried it all, and though he’s found a few foods that you can stomach, nothing seems stops the nausea. Well, that’s not entirely true.
Ralak relaxes his body, focusing on opening his scent glands to release his his pheromones. They slowly become stronger, calming you down and dulling the waves of nausea. He pulls you close to his warm body, reaching behind him for his kuru. 
“Tsaheylu.” He whispers yearningly, making the bond slowly. He sets a steady breathing pattern, slipping his hand over your tiny bump to caress it. The sickening feeling eases up enough for you to drift back to sleep, Ralak along with you.
——
Thankfully, Eywa lifted you of your säspxin [sickness] when you were about to come upon your third month of pregnancy. Cravings increased ten-fold almost instantly. On the occasion where you couldn’t keep it down—when the desperation was too much—you’d volunteer Ralak to eat it for you so that you could satisfy the craving vicariously through him.
“Eywa, that’s so good. One more bite.”
“Tanhí. Enough now.” He grumbles, feeling overly stuffed and almost queasy. 
You glance down at the purple hue of your connected kurus.
“Please...” Your eyes burn as they threaten to well with tears, and your bottom lip quivers, “…last one, promise.”
Ralak sighs, shoveling in another bite of boiled squid, chewing it slowly so you can savor the taste. You keep your eyes closed as he eats, tongue swirling in your mouth to swish your pooling saliva in your cheeks. And when he swallows, you swallow too, gulping down your spit. 
“Thank you.” You say shyly as you open your eyes, feeling bad for making him overeat now that you can really feel his fullness. 
It is my pleasure. Never feel bad. His accented voice tickles your brain. A smile spreads across your face, just as one does on his. 
——
And when you could keep it down, they were delightful when satiated. Keyword being satiated. It posed an issue when they were what Ralak called, ‘forest food’, or on a more rare occasion—‘sky people food’. Those were the insatiable ones. The ones he couldn’t just whip up for you. The times he'd come to you with his ears laid flat to his skull, admitting his defeat. Those were the moments where you felt something stronger than just disappointment. 
It left you gutted. 
You can’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. They’re hot and leave a sticky film on your skin, clumping your eyelashes together. It’s stupid. They’re stupid. Stupid tears, from a stupid cause. All because you want your grandmother’s stupid soup. Another thing the blessing of pregnancy has bestowed on you—big, intense feelings. 
As you soak in your bath, Ralak cooks dinner and you just know that whatever is in the pot is something that will make your stomach churn. You bury your face in the palms of your hands, trying to keep your snotty sobs to a minimum. It’s ridiculous, sobbing over something like this. It’s shameful, even. How can you be so ungrateful when this man goes to such lengths to care for you?
“Tanhì!” You hear his rough voice echo from the pod. 
You quickly wipe your face clean, and scramble for your loincloth and top, slipping them back onto your body. Finally, you fix your hair and force a smile to your face. As you get up to the marui, you’re met with the sight of Ralak stirring the soup pot over the firepit. Then the smell hits you. Typically the first thing to set off your nausea to begin with. It smells like—
Grandmother’s soup.
You stare at your mate wide eyed, taking a deep breath to savour it in your lungs. Outside of Ralak’s scent, nothing has smelled this good in months. And you swear you can already taste it on your tongue, the savoury flavour with the sweet aftertaste. 
“I asked your mother. Hope that is okay.” Ralak speaks casually as he serves you a bowl.
As you let out a harsh breath, your eyes burn as the tears come back with a vengeance. You sniffle once, twice—thrice, whimpering quietly as they roll down your cheeks. Ralak looks up at you, concern and honestly a smidge of confusion fixed to his face. Putting the bowl down, he stands and comes over to you, enveloping you in his arms. 
“I do not like to see you cry.” He hums, kissing the crown of your head. “Is it the smell? I will make you something different.” 
“N-No, no. It’s… it smells great. I’m sorry. I—I” You sputter, burying your face into his chest. 
“Then what is it, tìyawn [love]? What do you need?” Ralak cups your face and gently tilts your head upwards so he can look you in the eyes. “Tell me and it is yours.” 
“Thank you.” You croak, feeling your bottom lip curl over and kiss your chin. Now his facial expression is just pure confusion. He tuts in a comforting manner, pulling you back in close to his chest as he waits for you to settle, rocking side to side. 
“Alright, my little one. Shh–shh.”
——
Soon after, that soup pot made quite an appearance. It became your favourite dish, your favourite craving. Ralak made it just like grandmother, for the most part. There were a few omaticayan herbs missing, but outside of that it tasted like…home. At that point, you felt like you had this pregnancy thing down pat and could return to a semi-normal life. 
Everything was relatively the same, except a few obvious things—your growing bump and lack of heats. That was also a blessing, not having to go through a torturous heat every month. Though, you couldn’t say that for Ralak. 
As you neared the end of your third month of pregnancy, his pheromones grew stronger, wafting by you at random times of the day. At first you thought he was just doing it for you. Or, perhaps it was your heightened sense of smell. 
But the day came when his scent was so potent, it was as if it had stained your lips. There wasn’t a moment where you couldn’t smell the scent of your mate under your nose. That was the night you realised it was out of his control. That it was his rut coming. That was the night you confronted him at the bonfire. 
The night he looked at you like you were something to eat. 
— 
Right…there.
You catch the flicker of his eyes just before he lowers his head, shifting to that deep shade of blue. He keeps stealing a glance or two. Maybe even three, or more. It’s hard to keep count when he’s looking at you like this.
is piercing eyes, sultry and alluring, tempting you to crawl through these roaring flames just to get to him quicker. His demeanour. His stance and posture. His domineering leer. Whatever he—or his body—is doing, is working. 
He sits on the boulder, elbow perched on one thick thigh and a hand propped on the other. His hair covers his chestpiece, curled ends barely brushing against his defined ribcage. His bioluminescent freckles dance under the moonlight, his turquoise skin almost golden from the cast of the fire. It’s all so intimidating. He’s exuding dominance, practically looming over you despite him being seated. But there’s something about his aura, something darker.
“I can feel it, you know.” You speak casually, uncrossing your legs.
Ralak’s eyes snap up, boring into yours. He cocks a brow, keeping his eyes locked on you as you stand and walk towards him.
“Your rut. It’s close, isn’t it?”
This would be your first, real rut with him. Without the influence of your own heat. Ralak huffs a sigh, his eyes falling to the small bump that’s in his direct line of sight. Ralak watches as it seemingly grows bigger the closer you get. 
“You are showing.” His hands gently rest on your lower abdomen. Holding his shoulders, you slowly straddle him. 
“Answer me.” You whisper as you cup his face, tilting it upwards to make him look at you. “I want to be with you… and before you say it—” Ralak grits his teeth as he turns his head away, out of your hands.
“No.” 
“Ralak. I am your mate.” You retaliate through tight lips. You knew this would pose an issue. 
“Y/n.” He growls, turning his head to look you in the eyes. “You know my rut. Must I remind you that you are with child? It is final.” 
“I do know, and that’s why I won’t let you go through that alone, ever again.” Though your voice is stern, he can hear the tenderness in it. That this comes from a place of concern and love.
“I will not be in control.” Ralak admits as he shakes his head firmly, flicking his gaze back down to your belly. 
“Look…I made a plan.” You basically confess that you’ve been conjuring up ideas on how to endure this together all day. Although his eyes and hands remain fixed on your tummy, Ralaks ears perk up. He’s listening. 
“How do you feel about…being tied up?” 
Now you’ve got his attention, eyes snapping up to meet yours. The idea of being tied up isn’t entirely foreign to him. It’s something that his people use as a punishment for those who do wrong. He’s not opposed to it. Having a rut so intense is probably something to be punished for, anyways. 
“Hands behind your back…bound to the marui stilt. I will be the one in control. I will take care of you.”
You take his hands from your stomach and tuck them behind his back, your face now millimeters from his. Ralak fights the urge to kiss you. To free his hands from his back to grab your hips and shove your further down onto his growing bulge.
“...feed you…water you…bathe you.” Your voice falters as you swallow your spit. “...fuck you.” 
“...that so?” He whispers against your lips, heart thudding wildly behind his ribcage. 
You look in his eyes, and see that they tremble with constraint. He can’t hide it, the look on his face gives it away. He’s really struggling to think straight. To keep his answer as a firm no. And it doesn’t help that he’s on the cusp of his rut. He yearns to accept. Every fibre of his being wants this–wants you. You see it in his eyes, as they flicker like the flame behind you.
He just needs a little push. 
“We’ll take it slow…gently.” You roll your hips into him and feel his cock straining against his tewng. You lean in close, lips brushing against his as you speak into his mouth. “And, if anything happens… we’ll stop. No knotting.” 
His ears twitch. He’s considering it. Really, actually considering this. But how could he? How could he expect this of you in your state? He squeezes his eyes shut, frustrated and conflicted. And aroused. So fucking aroused that when he feels your lips drag against his cheek, your tongue tasting the lobe of his ear…your breathy whisper, “Pänutìng [Promise].”, he lets out a heated, shaky breath of defeat. Of surrender. 
That seals the deal.
Not now. Not yet. Ralak thinks to himself, fighting his urges.
The urge to mate—to pin you down and drive himself inside you. He must remain in control. For you. For your unborn. He sits on the floor, slumped against the stilt of the marui, bowed shoulders and a heavy, hung head. His skin, flushed, and eyes swollen—glowing a vibrant mauve. His hair haphazardly sticks to his sweltering skin as his hands lethargically twiddle with the braided twine behind his back. 
Groggy, you strain to open your eyes and quickly scan your surroundings. Ralaks pheromones cloud the room, engulfing you with their overpowering scent. As you sit up, the bed creaks and Ralak lifts his head, allowing it to flump limply back into the stilt. Extra lidded eyes and tensed brows, he breathes through his mouth. He wills himself to speak, but he’s heavy and sluggish as if he were three bottles deep.
“Ralak.” Your voice is wary and full of concern. Your eyes continue to trail down his body, landing on the undeniable, taut bulge in his loincloth. His cock strains against the fabric, precum completely soaking it through. “How long have you been like this?” 
“Few hours.” He croaks out a dry throat. 
“And you didn’t wake me?” You hastily make your way behind him, slipping to your knees to take the twine from him. 
Fuck. There it is. Your scent...driving him over the edge. Wafting past his nose and making him woozy in the head. 
“Tie me.” He demands. For a moment, you’re frozen in place by his tone, unable to move your hands and fingers. “Quickly.” 
The edginess in his voice startles you, causing you to fumble with the twine. You take a breath and begin tying the knot as he taught you, weaving the twine with itself, tugging at the ends to close it.
“Tighter.” He snaps at you, making your ears lay flat. You pull the ends even tauter, witnessing the twine pinch the thin skin on his wrists. 
“Shit—sorry. Didthat hurt?” You go to loosen the knot, but he pulls at the restraints, making it even tighter.  
“Leave it.” He grumbles, tugging yet again, ensuring it’s unyielding.
Because the closer you get, the harder he finds it to resist. He needs to know that he can’t get out—that he can’t hurt you—before he loses it completely. And with that delicious scent seeping from your neck, he feels himself slipping under. 
“Are you sure? I can tie you after you drink some water and have a—” 
“No...haah—now.” He growls, dropping his head causing the rest of his hair to flow forward and cover his face. “…need you now.” 
Blood rushes to your cheeks, heating them up and flushing them over. You can even feel your heart pumping it harder–faster. It’s hot in here, but even hotter now that you feel yourself heating up too. It’s his rut, influencing you like some sort of drug. You can barely control your breathing, much less think straight. But you told him that you’d be the one in control, the one to care for him. 
“Mawey, ma’ muntxatan [Calm, my husband].” You whisper close to his ear, giving the knot a final tug. “What kind of mate would I be if I did not care for you first? Hm?”  
You shuffle to your feet, and walk away, newly widened hips swaying side to side with temptation. He’s taking in the show through the cracks of space between his clumped together strands of hair, unable to look away no matter how hard he tries. Knowing this, you bend over, lifting your tail to expose your clothed mound to him. You swear you can hear a hiss seep from his lips, and that brings a smile to yours. 
Teasing him is one of your favourite things to do. 
You scoop up some water into the cup, and bring it over to him. Using two fingers to his chin, you tilt his head back, revealing the famine in his inebriated eyes. They’re glossy with need and desperation, begging you to take his ache away. 
“Alright, alright.” You coo softly, sinking back to your knees. “I’m going to make it go away. Now, drink for me.” You bring the cup to his lips, tilting it carefully as he gulps it down thirstily. A few drops dribble down his chin and onto his already glistening chest, rolling down his unflexed stomach. 
Tossing the empty cup to the side, you bend forward and lick the beads of water up his stomach, to his throat, to his lips. His arms jerk reflexively, wanting to cup your face as your lips lock with his.
Throwing a leg over his lap, you straddle him, pressing against the bulge in his sticky tewng. You cup his face instead, deepening the kiss to have a taste of the potent desperation on his tongue.
When you pull away, your noses brush against one another and you feel woozy in the head. His rut is beginning to affect you now. Which isn’t all a bad thing if you want to be able to keep up with him for the next couple days.  
Your hand smoothes over his jawbone to the nape of his neck, where you gently grip the base of his kuru. His ears immediately lay flat to his head, reddening at just the tips. Running your hand along its length, you bring the end of his kuru in front of him. 
“Going to make the bond.” You warn him breathily, bringing forth your queue as well. 
At this point, Ralak is huffing for air and sweating profusely. It looks as if he’s nearing his peak already. This only reaffirms that you’re making the right decision by making tsaheylu—you need the direct influence of his tìsom [heat]. 
When the tendrils intertwine, you come together with a sharp tug and gasp. Instantaneously, you sink into a hazy state, heating up from within. Your breath syncs with his, and suddenly you’re panting too. 
“Ralak.” You moan softly, grinding into him for a bit of friction.
You can’t stop your hips from snapping, and your loincloth is almost completely soaked. He throws his head back into the wooden stilt, looking at you through lidded eyes as he lets loose subtle groans. He looks more than hungry. He looks starved. 
With trembling hands, you search for the knot of his loincloth at the base of his tail. After a bit of scuffling, you untether it and shimmy his tewng down his hips and off of him. Up springs his aching cock, veiny and swollen. It’s so obviously neglected, glossy and sticky with his slick, so uncomfortably hard that it’s already pulsing as it stands firmly pressed against your clothed cunt. 
“Fuck. It’s… even bigger.” You’re taken aback, unsure of how exactly you managed to take this inside you last time he was in rut. Then you notice the red tinge of colour on his cockhead, especially where his ridges stand erect. “D-Does that hurt, karyu?” Bump in the way, you shift your hips back to reveal what exactly you’re talking about. “Need your numeyu to take away the pain?” 
The giant remains silent, but his cock jumps in response, oozing out another large bead of precum. Using your pointer finger, you trace the length of his cock, swollen balls to his pointed tip, collecting that fresh bead of slick on the pad of your digit. He watches intently as you pop your finger into your mouth and suckle, swallowing his semi-sweet essence. His brows knit tightly together. 
You know this is nothing short of torture to him. And though you have every intention to take the ache away… when would you get another opportunity like this? Where this giant is tied down and unable to resist the pleasure you bring him. Where you’re completely… in control. Fuck, you’ve never felt like this before. It's exhilarating. It’s a feeling of power. Of dominance.
A smirk pulls at your lips.   
You begin to pull yourself to your knees, brushing your swollen breasts against his lips. His tongue darts out, eager for a taste. Looking down, you cup one breast with your hand, and guide your stiff nipple into his mouth. His lips pucker over it, closing once they make contact for a vacuum seal.
Your breath hitches when you feel his tongue tickle the sensitive tip of your nipple. His teeth graze against them as he tries to do this handsfree, and you let out a low hiss. Soon his movements grow erratic, being bound to the marui stilt is starting to frustrate him. 
“Ah-ah. What do you need, karyu? Just tell me.” Your voice is feigned with innocence. He breathes heavy against your chest, keeping quiet as his focus is purely on getting his fill. “You won’t get anything from them.” You tsk, tugging away little by little, until eventually you pop off his mouth. 
You continue to rise to your feet, dragging his lips along your swelling tummy, until he’s eye level to the band of your tewng. You can feel his eyes pierce into you, his stare is anything but discreet. It’s intimidating. Your hand flies to the back of your loincloth, fiddling with the knot to untie it. 
“Is it this?”
The cloth drops to your ankles, exposing your flushed cunt to him. It’s pink and hot to the touch, undeniably aroused. Your scent grows stronger with each passing second, filling his lungs. It’s driving him insane—being able to see and smell, but not touch. His rut is only making him more irritable. He just needs to fuck into something and spill himself inside. 
His eyes glisten over an even brighter shade of purple, locking onto their meal. He wets his bottom lip with a quick swipe of his tongue as you take a step closer. You cup his jawbone, tilting it upwards to look down at him. The sight is… intoxicating. His lidded eyes, blown pupils that are threatening to roll to the back of his head. Tensed brow bones and damped, slightly parted lips—not a drop of composure left in his features. 
That new feeling rushes through you again, making you take two more steps forward. Your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his nose, officially branding it with your scent. He leans into you, closing his eyes and straining his neck to indulge himself. 
Your thumb smoothes over his jaw before your hand slips to the back of his head. You fist his hair and yank his head back, sending his eyes flying open. With your free hand, you spread your pussy lips, exposing your swollen clit. It’s sticky and in need of attention, throbbing occasionally as you tug your hood back. 
“Now, suck.” You demand breathily, slowly guiding him by the head to bring his lips to your clit.
You clench around nothing when you feel his heated, slippery lips pucker over the stiffened nub, sucking gently. Sharp eyes bore into yours before they roll back, leaving nothing but the whites exposed. Lids finally fluttering closed, he sucks a little harder, tips of his canines accidentally nipping your supple skin.  
“Ss—fuck.” You hiss, hips snapping back with force, popping off his mouth with a sharp sting. Frantic fingers rub away the tingling sensation as you grit your teeth. You shuffle your feet to ground yourself as you tighten your grip on his hair and hold his head still. 
“I know you’re in rut, but be good to your muntxate [wife].” You warn through your teeth before shoving his face back into your cunt.
This time he feasts with greed, groaning like a starved man. Eating, like a starved man. He’s slurping and sucking, lapping up your slick as it coats his tongue and lips, enjoying every second of your reign.
“Oh—oh shit. Fuck. Right there—” You moan breathlessly, free hand flying to his head to fist his hair, using it as leverage to keep him just where he is.
Before you know it your hips are moving on their own, humping at his face as you hold him tightly with both hands. With each thrust you shove him further back into the stilt, until the back of your hand is repeatedly hitting its surface. 
Until you’re hunched over him, looking him deep in the eyes as you grind into whatever part of him your clit is rubbing against. He expertly holds his breath as he allows you full control to fuck his face as if you were the one in heat.
Because with each roll of your hips he feels it too.
He feels the jolt of pleasure that shoots through you when his tongue hits your clit in that special spot. When the tips of his canines graze your swollen folds. The feeling is all consuming and he’s whining into your cunt from the over—and under—stimulation. His cock shifts to a shade of purple, jumping each time you thrust into his mouth. 
‘Sorry, Ralak. ‘m sorry.’ You think to him through tsaheylu, feeling the burn in your own lungs now. 
“Haa—ah, fuck. Thrust. Fuck. Thrust. F-Fuck! I’m gonna cum—in your—ngh!” Your voice quavers as you come suddenly undone in his mouth, holding him firm and still as you rock your body into him. 
His eyes slam shut and his brows knit tightly together as he grunts repeatedly into your cunt. He tugs harshly at his restraints and his heels dig into the woven floor. Yet still, you hold onto him even tighter until your pussy stops fluttering. 
With a loud, shaky gasp, you yank him away, letting go of his hair to grab the marui stilt to stop your trembling legs from giving out beneath you. Ralak wheezes loudly, shoulders heaving harshly as he frantically pants for air. His face is bright pink, flushed and glazed in a layer of sweat. He opens his eyes but they’re so heavy that you can barely see the colour in them. 
“Rutxe [please].” Ralak begs through a desperate groan, flicking his stare downwards. And when you look, you’re met with the sight of his still-throbbing cock, covered in his sticky, thick cum. Shiney beads still ooze out and dribble down his length and onto his swollen, firm balls. 
His first word was a plea of help. 
Your heart aches in your chest. How could you let yourself go so far with your little bit of power? To be so selfish. And here he was, in so much discomfort and yet you put your needs first. Leaving him so neglected to the point his body makes the release for him. Is this how he felt after he unleashed six pent up years on you in a couple days? 
Pent up years of suffering. 
“Shh. You’re okay, my love. You’re okay.” You whisper as you slowly squat down. “I got you. I’m going to make it…” you hold eye contact with him as you lower yourself onto his cock, aligning his tip with your sopping entrance, “…all better now.” 
You wince when his cock slowly penetrates you, mewling a little higher with every inch you manage to take. The stretch is almost unbearable. This is the first rut you’ve spent with him without being in heat. 
No foggy haze to dull the ache. 
No emptiness to be filled. 
And it doesn’t help that your womb is already so full. 
Your mewl quickly turns into a whimper when your bodies become flush to one another. Ralaks head slumps back into the marui stilt and he heaves a loud, lengthy moan of relief from being buried deep inside your warm cunt. You feel so good around him, making his cock heat up and twitch inside of you. 
Snaking your arms around his neck, you hold onto him as you frantically try to adjust to his size. It’s dawning on you exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into, and that you’ve seriously underestimated his rut. A sense of uncertainty begins to tighten your stomach but it quickly dissipates when you hear Ralak’s second plea. 
“Rutxe, ma’ tanhì..” Ralak mutters with a pained, gravelly voice. 
Without another word, you move your hips up and down, dragging his length along your gummy, slick walls. Your movements are sloppy and uncoordinated, you’re not used to doing most of the work much less all of it. With his hands tied behind his back, you can already feel the burn in your thighs and the throb in the tips of your toes. 
Regardless, you keep moving your hips. 
Bouncing up and down on his cock, pressing your forehead into his in a poor attempt to steady your position. That little sting slowly morphs into something of pleasure the more your hips meet his with a slap. And soon all you can hear is smack, after smack, after smack. The noises that split his lips tell you all you need to know. He’s feeling good and that’s all that matters. 
But exhaustion hits you quickly—unexpectedly. His cock is buried to the hilt inside you, and the more tired your legs get, the deeper it drills inside you, pressing harshly into your cervix. Your legs are trembling uncontrollably and you can barely catch your breath, leaving you no choice but to lazily rock back and forth on his cock. 
Ralak lets out a grunt and bucks his hips. 
“Haah!” You yelp.
Ralaks ears lay flat, lips pursed tightly into a thin line. He can’t hold back his frustration any longer. He’s growing impatient. If he didn’t get his real release soon he may really lose it. He’s grunting through his nose and tugging at his restraints, bruising his wrists. You feel him shift his hips up and shove his cock as far as he can inside you. 
“Ngh! I-It won’t go any deeper!” Your voice strains as you try to lift yourself up. But he just keeps pushing until his feet are grounded. And then his hips drop, pulling his cock half way out of you. 
Thrust.
Ralak slams his cock back inside you, drilling deeper than he was before. Your mouth falls open as all the air is forcefully expelled from your lungs. As you suck in a gasp of air he thrusts inside you again. And again. And again. Until he’s rutting into you in a feverish frenzy, chasing his climax as if it were prey. His thrusts turn relentless, leaving you breathless with each buck of his hips. 
“Fuck—fuck—fu—” Your voice bounces with his thrusts. 
You look down, met with eyes that are empty yet heavy with appetite. He’s in the thick of it and he’s no longer all there. He’s purely instinct now and the only thing holding him back from pinning you down and having his way with you is the twine wrapped around his wrists. 
You can’t lie and say that you aren’t enjoying the look on his face and the break from the burn in your thighs. Stars sprinkle your vision as you’re overwhelmed with the immense pleasure he’s slamming into you. He’s fucking you into submission and you’re mind is borderline blank. His groans are primal and guttural, and they grow louder with each hysteric thrust. 
“Want to knot.” He huffs suddenly—desperately. You can feel his thick knot poke and prod at your entrance, his thrusts now sloppy and erratic. 
“Fuck, I—” You know you shouldn’t, no matter how hazy his rut is making you feel. “W-We can’t. I’m still ea—rly.” But he’s too busy watching himself fuck you in a daze, drenched with sweat. “Ralak…” You grab his face, tilting his chin upwards so he looks you in the face. His gaze is hollow yet his features are tense. “…are y–ou hear–ing me, la–k?”
“Need to breed.” He growls as he fights against his restraints. He doesn’t ease up on his tussle with the twine, sweating and panting as he desperately tries to force his knot inside you. 
“Shit.” You mutter, coming to the quick realisation that he can’t stop himself. “Wait, wait, wait—” 
Your hands fall from his face to his stomach, pushing down in a panicky attempt to lift yourself off him. But his rut is making you sluggish and weak, so you make the quick decision to sever the bond with a rough yank. 
Snap. 
“Oh, fuck.” You curse under your breath. 
The twine breaks, and his arms fly forward, hands making impact with your hips, fingernails digging into the thin skin. His grip is unyielding as he holds you down firmly on his cock. You feel him throb inside you as he attempts to plug you full with his knot. 
“Lak! Ralak, h-hold on!” As much as you actually want to, you can barely take what’s inside you as it is.
“Submit.” He rasps, top lip curled tight to his teeth, baring his canines. 
“I—I’m pregnant.” You whisper quickly, voice hoarse and strained. 
Immediately, his movements cease and his eyes flick down to your tiny bump, then widen when he finally realises. In one swift, sudden move, he lifts you off him and uses your swollen pussy lips to hug his cock and finish himself off. He rocks you back and forth like a rag doll at the mercy of undying grip, growling and grunting. 
His head drops forward when he outright howls. You look down and witness his mushroomy head pulsating feverishly, spurting out his load in thick ropes, all over his stomach and chest. All whilst his engorged, throbbing knot pulses against your slit as he cums, earning some well deserved comfort and warmth.
Ralak sputters as he tries to catch his breath, hands still glued to your hips. The fog still clouds his mind but it’s less blinding now. He’s just about capable of acknowledging what just happened. To acknowledge that this was risky, and could’ve ended badly. That, if you hadn’t said something to him, he would have knotted you without mercy.
An uncomfortable silence passes between you, where you’re both breathing heavily and staring at one another. You both share the same thought—the same realisation. His rut is too aggressive for you to handle right now. 
“I must go.” Ralak looks away as he breaks the silence, wanting to take advantage of his release before the pressure builds yet again. He’s clear headed enough to leave without turning back and pouncing on you. 
“No, don’t… we can try again.” You say softly, hand cupping his jawbone, turning him to face you. You feel terrible that he may have to spend this rut alone, that you couldn’t fulfil your promise—your duty as his mate. 
“I almost knotted you, y/n.” His eyes gloss over with guilt, his hands finally peeling away your bruised hips. 
“But… you didn’t. You stopped yourself—” 
“And if I do not leave now… I will.” Ralak growls inches away from your face.
You’re a little taken aback by his bluntness, but you know it’s the truth. And it’s final. No matter what you say. No matter how it makes the flesh between your legs throb a little more. You nod, keeping yourself quiet. 
“I will see you in a couple days. I love you both.” Your lips meet briefly before he carries you to bed and readies himself to leave. You watch in silence, murmuring an “I love you, too” under your breath when he exits the marui.  
As time passed you grew more angsty, unable to keep in one spot or focus on a single task. All that ran on your mind was Ralak and how he was probably suffering all alone. All because you failed to do your duty as his mate. The guilt was almost sickening, having you dry heaving into your bedside bucket a few times for the rest of the day. 
Until later that night. 
You rub in the thick, oily concoction on your belly, getting ready for bed. The sound of the marui door flapping open startles you, making you jump in your skin and clutch your stomach. You’re not expecting Ralaks return so soon. 
A silhouette stands tall at the door, his bioluminescent star pattern unmistakable. 
“Ralak? Oh, Ralak. Eywa. You’re back. I should have made dinner. I thought you'd be gone for a while longer. You must be so hungry. You—” You speak urgently, eyes flicking down to his tewng, which is seemingly damp, “—was it too much? …are you alright? Let me help you, lak.”
“Tanhì.” Ralaks cuts you short, voice trembling slightly, yet full of relief. “It is done.” 
“…what?” The question is breathy. 
“My rut.” Ralak says as he makes his way towards you, scooping up a glob of your special concoction. He sits next to you, and begins massaging it into your back. “You have fixed me.” 
You come to the realization that he's talking about his rut finishing earlier than usual—like that of an average na'vi.
“You were never broken, my love.” You moan softly, closing your eyes to enjoy the massage.
Ralak then rests his chin on your shoulder, smoothing his hands down your back and around your abdomen—rubbing what's left on his hands onto your swelling belly. His touch prickles your skin, sending the tip of your tail swishing. 
“I live for you.” He mutters with a thick accent, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I will die for you.”
Your heart skips a beat when you hear his words, he must have really been suffering for the past six years. You feel your face heat up, and you try to fight the smile balling your cheeks. You opt to drop your head and hide your face instead, resting a hand on his thigh. 
“Well. We won’t have you doing that.” You giggle, rubbing his upper thigh as you turn your head to glance at him. “…the last part, that is.” 
But he just looks at you, face still as stone. He speaks sternly.
“I will.” He speaks sternly.
You swallow your spit, tempted to drop your head again as you take in the gravity of his two words. You nod, searching his eyes with yours as you close the space between you. You hover open mouthed against his lips. 
“Me too.”
——
Time waits for no one. 
At least that’s how it felt. You had ballooned overnight, round and a little heavier as you embarked on your sixth month of pregnancy. His kicks grew stronger and more uncomfortable. But it was Ralaks favourite thing to feel before bed.
You found yourself spending most of your days bouncing between your marui and your family’s marui—paying your family visits more often. They grew fond of the idea that there would be an addition to the family and it became a regular thing for you to seek refuge there when Ralak was roped in for his ‘duties’. Which seemed to increase in number the further along you progressed. 
Ralak had his daily duties—tending to the ilus, a few lessons, fishing... These were just the simpler tasks that you could say you knew for certain he did. But there were his ‘fkxaranga’ [stressful] duties’, as you liked to call them.
The ones where Tonowari would summon him with nothing else but a simple nudge or glance. The duties that were spontaneous. That stole precious hours of his time. Duties that left Ralak spent and on edge, reaching for his top shelf when he came home. Those were the ones you dreaded the most. 
The ones like last night. 
——
With a huff, Ralak chucks his gear onto the floor and roughly unclips his chest piece. His pointed tools are covered in some sort of thick, iridescent muck, shifting from green to orange as they rock side to side on the floor. It’s something you’ve been seeing recently with no idea as to what it is. 
Ralak grunts, bringing your attention to his lips, which are slightly downturned. The more you take in the sight before you the more it occurs to you how exhausted this man is. His eyes are hollow, ears droopy, tail dragging heavily behind him. His muscles are seized up despite the bow of his shoulders—he looks as if he could use a massage. 
“Manga [Hey, you].” You get up to meet him at the door, taking the chest piece out of his hands to hang up on the wooden stand. “Tonowari is working your tail off. Do I need to have a word with that man?” 
He only works up a grumble as you lead him over to the bed. “That bad? What is he making you do? Hunt akulas? Eywa.”  
Ralak sits down, face sinking into his hands before two fingers slip down to pinch the bridge of his nose. You climb up and settle behind him, huffing and puffing along the way. Your hands smooth over his back, thumbs pressing firmly into his muscles, kneading the flesh until you feel him loosen up. 
Though the question sounded rhetorical, he knew it wasn’t. He knows you’re awaiting a response, the silence is loud and clear. You always want to know more about his day, fine details and all. And he’s usually reluctant to speak of it, but insisting it’s nothing for you to worry your head over. But recently, your inquisitivity is… well founded. And he knows it.
“Not quite.” He mumbles wearily into his palm, ears laid flat to his skull–although it wasn’t uncommon for him to encounter an akula or two whilst fulfilling the olo’eyktan’s orders. 
You open your mouth to question him further, but you can tell that he’s more than tired. And it didn’t help that you were constantly needing his help, especially now that you’re growing heavier.
Going down the stairs is a struggle considering you can no longer see your own feet or keep your balance. You had been waking him up almost twice a night to help you down the marui stairs just to pee. He’d always be happy to help, though. He understands that this is what comes with the changes that are happening to your body that’s giving life to his child. 
“Rest. Please.” You say softly, tugging at him to lie down in bed with you. 
To your surprise, he actually lays down, assuming his typical position before dozing off for the night—on his back with a hand on your belly. You expected him to resist a little, insisting something or another.
He really, really must be tired. Your heart fills with something heavy. Something that makes you almost feel sick. Your brows pinch as you look beside you to see his tensed face relax into something of tranquility. 
And a smile pulls at your lips when his eyes fall shut. 
Dinner’s over the firepit—his favourite stew with extra mushrooms. The sound of it bubbling becomes louder as it thickens. With a quick, final stir, you take it off the fire and cover it to let it sit. You hope that this will help lift his mood when he wakes. You look over to him as he lays stockstill with softened features, breathing tidally. 
Holding onto a supporting beam of the marui, you bring yourself to your feet and waddle your way over to him. You extend a hand to wake him for dinner but you hesitate. He needs this. And that’s when you make the decision to allow him however long it takes to rest. Even if it means that you speak to Tonowari yourself. 
Night falls and the temperature falls with it. The glowing firepit keeps the stew and marui warm for the time being as you prepare for bed. You draw the curtains and glance over to your mate, who still remains in a deep sleep, tucked cozily under the blanket you covered him with. You drape the shawl he wove you over your shoulders, and make your way to the door. 
A silent yawn splits your lips just before you lift away the flap. Your eyelids are heavy and the drowsiness is weighing on you tenfold. You have one last step of your nightly routine before you can crawl into bed next to your husband. And that's emptying the bladder that your son uses as a footrest. Plus, if you didn’t do it now, it would just be an additional trip in the middle of the night. 
As you make your way to the door, the need to go becomes urgent. Perhaps it was all the water you thirstily chugged whilst eating, or maybe it's just the fact that you're already on your way there. Either way, you can’t seem to get there quick enough. Your movements turn hasty the second you get to the top step, hands clutching on the only thing available—your bulging belly. You’re looking down despite the fact that you can’t even see your feet.
Leaning forward slightly, you try to shift your stomach to the side to see your next step. You step down and feel your bare foot make contact with the slippery wood. Your toes press into its surface to ground you as you take your next step. You wobble when you get to the last step, and sigh in relief when you feel the cold, wet sand spill between your toes. 
After wasting no time and doing what you came to do, you quickly make your way back to the marui. The tips of your ears and tails are just going numb from how cold it is and the night dew is beginning to form. You get to the bottom step, fixing your shawl so that it’s out the way. You make your way up the first, second and third step, but when you get to the fourth your shawl falls forward. 
And so do you. 
A blood curdling shriek rips from your throat when you feel your feet give out beneath you. Your hands splay out to grab onto whatever’s around you to break your fall but before you know it you're tumbling back down the stairs at a frightening rate. You keep on your side as best you can, landing into the sand with a muffled thump. 
“Fuck. Shit—oh, great mother—” You mutter as you hyperventilate, clutching your stomach as you wait for your son to kick—to show you some sign of life. Your eyes well with tears as you rub your bump vigorously. Your heart is slamming violenting against your rib cage, so hard you can hear it over the ringing in your ears. “Please, please, please.” 
…but nothing. 
“Y/n?!” You hear Ralaks worried voice boom behind you, then his hurried footsteps down the stairs. 
Maybe it’s his fathers voice, but your unborn son gives you one of the biggest kicks yet. You sob out a laugh, rubbing your stomach as relief flows through your body. You take a few deep breaths through your mouth to calm down, feeling another reassuring kick. 
“Y/n. Y/n.” Ralak chants your name, eyes rapidly darting side to side to assess you as he kneels beside you. Concern’s etched deeply into his features as he lifts your arms and legs, searching for injuries. 
“I’m alright. I’m alright.” You repeat urgently, but he continues to look, even taking off your shawl. His eyes are wide and he seems to be in some level of shock, especially after coming straight out of a deep sleep. “Ralak. Really. I’m fine. We’re okay.” 
Ralaks features soften at your two final words. His stare falls to your swollen belly, hands taking the place of yours as he waits. After a few seconds of stillness, his eyes snap up to yours—refilling with worry. He begins to shake his head, and you reassure him with a hand to his face. 
“Talk to him.” You whisper with trembling lungs. Ralak looks back down to your stomach.
“Maitan [My son].” Your mate says in a low, steady voice, ensuring not to allow even a hint of fright slip through. Just then, he feels a little nudge against the palm of his hand. Ralaks gaze snaps up to you and his expression relaxes, hands rubbing your belly gently. “How did this happen, tanhì?”
“I…needed to pee.” You say shamefully, avoiding eye contact. “…and I tripped going up the steps.” You glance up at him to see what you perceive to be a face of disappointment. “I’m sorry. I know, I’m so stupid.” 
“No. Do not say that.” He interjects, tensing his jaw. “...you are heavy with child—why did you not wake me?” 
“You were so, so tired. You needed to rest, and I did not want to disturb you.” You turn to your side to get up, wincing when a sharp pain shoots down your back. 
“Careful.” He clears his throat, stopping you from trying to get up on your own. He watches your contorted face relax, but the heart wrenching guilt just gets worse. “You should have. Wake me for anything.” He says sternly, snaking his arms underneath you to lift you up. “Everything.”
“You really don’t have to—” Ralak continues, scooping you in his arms and holding you close to his chest. “I can walk. I’m all right, Ralak.”
You try to reassure him, shuffling in his arms to get down. But he only muffles out a sigh, glancing down at you with downturned brows and droopy ears. He then walks away from the marui stairs, to the direction of the water. 
“Where are we going?” You ask quickly when you realise that you’re walking away from home. Ralak clicks for his tsurak, taking his time as he mounts it with you tucked to his chest. “Ralak.” 
“To tsahìk.” He states, making the bond with his beast.
“Ronal?” You sound almost panicked as the idea of everyone knowing you fell up the stairs clouds your mind. It’s almost mortifying to think about. “We don’t need to do that, it’s really late too, and—”
Commanding his beast to go, you both take off at full speed. It doesn’t take long to arrive at the tsahìk’s healing pod. Many healers gather at the door when they hear the sound of Ralak’s low pitched call. And they rush out to meet him as he carries you towards them in a hurried manner. They usher you in, hushed murmurs growing louder and clearer as they bring you to Ronal. 
You didn’t even notice the burning pain in your lower back until you were about half way here. 
The Tsahìk stands upon your entrance, her crystal blue eyes widening when she sees Ralak with you in his arms. You wince as he lays you down where the healers instruct him to. She strides over to a woven basket filled with an array of herbs and needle-like wooden sticks, and quickly props it on her hip—just out of the way of her own bump. She settles herself beside you, feeling your stomach as she channels Eywa. 
Ronal throws a look to Ralak, whose hands are on his hips as he waits patiently for the verdict. 
“She fell.” He says, only for Ronal to cock an eyebrow. “Stairs.” He finishes. Then both her eyebrows raise, and she reaches for a jar of a ground up, purplish herb. She pours half of it into a wooden bowl, and activates it with a few drops of water from the spirit tree. 
“Baby is strong. Very strong.” The Tsahìk announces, and both you and Ralak heave a loud sigh of relief. “But—” Ronal props your legs up on the makeshift table, spreading them slightly. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you look over to Ralak. “You are still at risk.”
Ralak moves closer to you, taking your hand in his to keep you calm. You both watch as Ronal rolls the fabric tightly into a small cylindrical shape. You swallow your spit when you realise exactly where that’s going. 
“This ensures he stays. It will also help with the pain.” She states, glancing at Ralak to see the glare he’s trying to hold back. She shakes her head slightly and hands you the precautionary apparatus. “Insert. Rest…and remove at sunrise.” Ronal continues, drawing back the curtain to give you some privacy. 
“Sunrise?” You whisper to yourself as you watch her step out.
Your eyes dart up to Ralak who is clearly concerned, staring down at you with worry in his eyes. Embarrassment heats up your cheeks and your nerves fray. Why are you so shy all of a sudden? He’s your mate. Your husband. 
You sit up a bit more and try to see over your stomach to get the task done with shaky hands. You fumble and struggle with the flimsy cloth, blindly doing your best. But each time you lean forward the pain in your back burns hotter.
Ralak’s supporting you with a hand on your upper back, patiently waiting for you, noticing your trembling fingers and little grunts. He uses his free hand to cup yours, stilling your hurried movements.
“Mawey [calm]. Breathe.” He hums, gently taking it from you and helping you lay down. 
You look him in the eyes as he inserts it carefully, wincing when the concoction stings a bit. Ralak gives your hand a light squeeze, speaking as if he had access to your thoughts. You nod, trying to smile through the burning sensation, but he picks up on your discomfort. 
“What is it? Is it your back?" His voice quavers with worry.
“No… just burns a little.” You say quietly. You watch his jaw flutter and his shoulders droop as he huffs out a sigh. “Not to worry. It’s going away now.” 
As he’s about to speak, the curtain is drawn to the side and Ronal comes in and stands at the arched entrance, hand on her hip. Ralak averts his attention to her, his eyes glancing down at her unborn moving in her belly. Although you were both six months pregnant, you were noticeably bigger than her. 
“A word.” Her serious tone of voice brings him out of deep thought, and her nudging head tells him that it’s something urgent. 
Ralak looks at you, not wanting to leave you alone but you smile and reassure him with a light nod. He clenches his jaw but you give him a gentle push towards Ronal. He squeezes your hand before letting go and leans in to plant a firm kiss on your forehead. You watch as he leaves, laying back and taking in the ripples in the curtain as you strain to hear their hushed conversation. 
“Ronal. Oe irayo si ngaru. [Thank you]” Ralak begins, bowing before the shorter na’vi.
“I worry for your mate.” Ronal cuts to the chase, using her hand to guide him further away from the curtain. 
“For what reason?” He asks, keeping his head hung to hear what she has to say. They walk until they’re nearly at the entrance of the healing pod. 
“Your son is fast growing.” She speaks calmly but quickly.
Ralak is a little puzzled, although he doesn’t show it. Is that such a bad thing? He continues to look down at her with the same expression, listening intently to what the tsahìk speaks of.
“Her body will struggle. Birth will be hard. Very long and painful.” Now Ralak is having a hard time keeping his emotions concealed as they chisel themselves into his features. Yet he remains silent. “You must warn her about mun’i [the cut].”
“Pxasìk [no way/fuck that]” Ralak curses through a hiss in his native tongue as he stands at full height, figuratively and literally taken aback. How dare she call that upon his mate? Ronal returns a low hiss as Ralak moves away from her, staring down at her with a mixture of emotions. 
Concern. Surprise. Fear. 
Mun’i [the cut] is rare and risky. Only three have been performed since the birth of this clan, all done in desperation when hope was gone. The last one was performed by Ronal's mother herself. It is an extremely invasive procedure where the mother is cut and the infant is removed. It’s only done in dire situations, where the mother is incapable of giving birth to their young naturally, and risks dying in the process.
Ralak can’t help but feel a burning anger amongst the sea of emotions flooding him at once. How could she suggest such a thing to him? Something so dangerous and grave? All because you will give birth to ‘a different kind’. He’s more than confident that you’re capable of this, despite the murmurs circulating the clan. 
He has always been aware of Ronal's perception of you, and her opinion about the mating. It was no secret, though she never outwardly told Ralak as he is like a son to her. She often insisted that you two were not compatible in more ways than one, and always saw you as the forest girl who needed special training. But to know that Ronal doubts your capabilities to give life ignites a flame in his chest. 
One that he must quickly put out. 
“Ralak!” 
He hears you call out for him, prompting him to quell the flame and shoot Ronal a glare of displeasure. “She is stronger than you know.” Ralak speaks through his teeth before turning his heel to tend to you. 
Heart pounding, he makes his way through the curtain to be met with the joyous sight of you cradling your stomach with a smile plastered to your face. That only further calms the flicker of the flame in his chest, making a smile tug at his lips. He sees you glance up at him, pearly teeth glistening in the luminosity of the night. 
“Sorry if I startled you, it’s just—he’s kicking so hard. Come, come feel!” You blubber excitedly, reaching out for his hand to place it on your belly. He slowly takes a knee, staying still as stone to soak up each movement. “He is so strong, Ralak. Like you.” You whisper, looking down at your mate doting on your bump. 
Though he should be proud of your words, he can’t help but feel a little nervous by them. If this child is really like him, then what Ronal said may have some truth to it. Yet he smiles, smoothing his thumb over your protruding belly button. 
“He is strong like his sa’nu [mummy].” He says softly, perhaps in attempts to reassure himself and calm his own nerves. Your smile only grows and you place your hand on top of his. 
“What did Ronal say?” Ralaks eyes snap up to yours, wide and almost panicked, wiping the smile off your face instantly. “Oh, no. Is it bad? Is something wrong?” 
“No, no. She says…” He drops his head, watching his unborn move as he contemplates telling you. You need rest, and this would further stress your mind and body. Ralak urges himself to smile—to create a new mask—one of feigned happiness. “…you must rest. Wait until sunrise.” 
“Oh, okay.” You exhale a sigh of relief, “Good. I—I can do that.” 
—— 
After such an eventful night, sleep found you easily. Ralak carried you up the marui stairs, tucked you into bed and watched as your eyes fluttered shut. And even so, he remained at your side for some time, ensuring you were deep in sleep before embarking on his new task. 
It began with a ‘quick’ trip inland for the right kind of wood. The kind that holds up well against the elements and the saltiness of the water. The kind that doesn’t have a slip to it when it's been wet for more than a few hours. It took a few trips to get it all back to the beach but it was more of an irritable task than a difficult one.
Ralak tried to keep as quiet as possible, spending the rest of the night—until sunrise—cutting and carving the wood, binding them together with twine, sap and wooden pins. And by the time the first few rays of sunlight beamed in, he was engraving his finishing touches. 
Ralak chucks down the tool and it lands into the sand with a muffled thud. Using the back of his strake to wipe his forehead clean of sweat, he looks up at his work for a final time—railings for the marui stairs. Then the bright ray of sun shines before his eyes, standing between his two new creations. 
You.
You’re surprised to see him out this early, still in his gear from last night. The realisation dawns on you that he’s been up all night, doing this. You can actually feel your chest warm up as your heart pumps the blood through your veins at an insane rate. It rushes to your cheeks, making them hot and flushed. 
“Is this what you’ve been doing all night?” You ask the question under your breath, dragging a hand along the railing. It’s smooth under the pads of your fingers, and warm to the touch, as if they’ve just been filed down. You notice a small carving on the side of the railing—your son’s initial.
R. 
“Mm.” He grunts, not that he could have slept anyways. He glances at the initial that you’re staring at. “I should have done it long ago.” The shame in his voice is loud and clear. You look down at your feet, unsure of what to say, noticing that he’s redone the steps too. 
“Ralak—”
“You must still wake me. Understand?” He cuts you off, already knowing what you’re about to say. 
You take a step down, holding tightly onto the railing with one hand and the other tucked under your bump. He rushes up the stairs and supports you by the arm. You lean into him for a hug, nuzzling your face into his chest. “… thank you, my love.” 
“Kea tìkin [no need (for thanks)].” He presses his lips onto the crown of your head, words muffled by your hair. His hand slips down your arm and rests on your lower back. “Still feeling pain?” 
“No. I feel good. Like new.” You smile, watching his features soften and his lips pull into a subtle smile. “Your son, too. He kicked me all night.” 
“Is that so, young one?” He leans down to speak to your belly as you watch intently, “you must be gentle with your sa’nu [mummy].” 
As he looks back up to you, your eyes follow his every move. And suddenly it’s just the two of you, before the orange glow of the sunrise, sharing this intimate gaze with one another. 
“Ralak… I see you.” You say softly, witnessing his pupils blow until there’s nothing but thin rings of blue.
He swallows, you see the lump in his throat undulate, and the balls of his cheeks stain a light pink. He blinks a few times, leaning in until his lips brush against yours. He lingers there for a bit, jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth a few times. He can’t help but feel a pang in his chest. 
How could he keep this from you?
“Oel ngat kame, ma’ muntxate.” He husks the words before locking his lips with yours.
But as he pulls away, you see the glint in his eye. When he sees your lowered brows and inquisitive eyes, he attempts to fix his mask of indifference—no, happiness. But you see right through it—
The glint of guilt. 
“What is it?” You ask, reaching behind him for his kuru. It’s your way of saying, 'no secrets'. He’s quiet. Uncomfortably quiet. Unsure of how to say what he should say. You urge him with a light tug to his queue, creating a little more distance between you to look him dead in the eye. “Ralak.”
“Ronal doubts…you.” He says plainly, trying hard to rid himself of the thought of childbirth taking you away from him.
“I don’t understand. What—what does that mean?” You ask, confused and worried. 
“I should have told you about it when you asked.” Ralak says, shaking his head. “But…you were already under so much stress. In pain. Our son—” 
“Ralak. Tell me about what?” You whisper quietly—quickly. Ralak looks at you, allowing a few seconds of silence to pass before he speaks. 
“Mun’i [the cut].” Ralak’s voice cracks with pain as the dreaded thought floods his mind. 
Ralak goes on to explain mun'i, giving you a brief lesson on its history and typical…outcome. He explains why Ronal urged him to warn you about it. And exactly what he told her in return. That he is confident that you are more capable of doing this. 
It ends with a comforting embrace and the both of you coming to the conclusion that a conservation with Jake is needed. If the cut were to happen, the sky people’s medical advancements would be…useful. 
——
Since then, Ralak adapted a very strict agenda when it came to the preparation of the birth. In some ways, it reminded you of the beginning of your relationship with him as teacher and student. Karyu and Numeyu. A revision of previous lessons, such as breathing lessons. 
“Deeper breaths, tanhì. Slow.” Ralak instructs you with his hand on your round belly. 
“It’s hard…” your voice is strained, “when his feet are in my lungs.” 
Ralak chuckles, nodding in understanding. “Right. Do your best.” 
You attempt to follow his demonstration a fifth time, inhaling deeply through your nose, holding it, and then slowly letting it out through your mouth. “Light headed now.”
“You did well.” Ralak praises you, snaking an arm around you as he lowers you onto your back. “You all right?” 
“Just fine.” You mutter, grateful for the new position. 
Ralak looks at you for a while, taking in a sight that may be similar to the one of you giving birth—giving life. The reality that you will soon be a family quickly dawns on him. The reality that… Ronal's words still weigh heavy on his heart.
“And when you bear down…” Ralak pulls your leg back, your knee now grazing against your cheek as they flush with embarrassment. “…shallow, fast breaths. Do not hold it.” 
He then demonstrates, emphasising the sound of the breathing technique to ensure you’re doing it properly.
'…hee—hee—hoo…'
You mimic his sounds, looking down to see nothing but your protruding bump. It may be strange to some that Ralak is teaching you a lesson on something such as childbirth. But with his mother-figure being the tsahìk, there were just certain things he grew to have knowledge of. 
“Ronal says there are times where it is best to allow your body to take over. Focus on breathing him out. Let your body do the work for you…” You nod slowly as you practice deep breathing in this new position, “…she will show you some positions in your lesson tomorrow.” 
"What?" Your ears perk up. For some reason one on one interactions with Ronal always make you nervous. 
“The other expecting women of the clan will be there.” 
Your ears relax, and you feel a little more at ease knowing you won’t be alone, even if it’s a sea of gossiping women. At least they were more discreet about it. 
——
As you neared the final months of your pregnancy, Ralak was called out more frequently. The aches and pains that came along with being so big were just as frequent, it seemed. They’d hit you at the strangest times, during your sleep or whilst on your tsurak.
But when the pain spread to your abdomen is when Ralak urged you to take things easy. But they didn’t stop him from going anywhere. No matter how badly he wanted to stay home and tend to you. It was more complicated than that. Something that you were blissfully unaware of. Something he wanted to keep that way until it was the right time to tell you. 
“Must you go?” You ask hopefully, tugging at his bicep. “You just got back.” 
“Tono will have my head, tahnì.” He states, buckling his chest gear yet another time for today. 
“It’s not fair. Not even the warriors back at home tree were called out so much. Especially if their mate was this far along.” You huff, letting go off his bicep to clutch your protruding belly. He cups a hand over yours, leaning down to kiss your forehead.
“Ah. I know, I know. I want to stay, I do—” He’s cut off by your sudden gasp, and your face screwing with discomfort. “Are you alright?” His voice turns fills with concern, head tilting even more so that he can look you in the face. It felt as if your back set ablaze and your stomach hardened into rock. It eases up within a few seconds and you take a quick breath before answering. 
“Yeah, I think so.” You feel around your bump, taking note of how it’s softened and back to normal. “…that’s the second one today.” 
“Hm. It is. See Ronal while I am gone.” Ralak insists, tucking a couple loose braids behind your ear. You nod in response, gritting your teeth from the reminder that he’s leaving again. “I will speak with Tonowari today.” 
He’s quick to kiss you, lingering longer than he should. You savor his tender touch, breathing him in until you’ve gotten your fill to last you until he’s back. He pulls away, a grimace fixed to his face as it’s almost painful to do. He rubs your belly a final time, clicking for his beast. Reluctantly, he leaves, and so do you.
‘Practice Contractions.’
Ronal’s diagnosis of your pains. 
You’re not entirely unfamiliar with the concept. Mom calls them something different, but it all means the same thing at the end of the day. The body’s way of preparing to give birth. The constriction of your stomach, accompanied by intense pain, at random times with no rhythm. 
It’s normal, and expected. Ronal was particularly pleased to see your body do this early in your pregnancy. It typically occurs a couple weeks prior to birth, and both of you weren’t due for another month. 
They’re nothing to worry about, but she advises to rest if they get too intense. You waddle home with your tail dragging behind you, unhappy to see no sign of your mates return. 
“You are late.” Tonowari speaks monotonously, back turned to Ralak as he keeps his eyes on his task—forging a new tool. Ralak has to swallow his frustration and maintain his confidence. 
“It will happen soon.” He responds in a similar tone, his eyes following as the olo’eyktan stands. “I must be with her.”
“I understand. I do. But—” Tonowari finishes up the last touches, giving the tool its final inspection. “This is your duty, son.”
“She, is my duty.” Ralak snaps, his frustration slipping through. 
Feeling challenged, Tonowari turns to face him, now eye level with Ralak as he slowly nears his subordinate—chest to chest. But with a pregnant mate of his own, and the fact that Ralak is like his own son, Tonowari huffs a sigh and gives this a pass.  
“This is for her, too. For the people of the clan. You know what we are about to face. You will do this.” The olo’eyktan states sternly. “When the horn sounds… you come. And that…” he shoves the tool into Ralak’s chest, “…is an order.” 
Holding the tool against his own chest, Ralak looks away from Tonowari, grinding his back teeth hard enough to file them flat. He breathes heavily, attempting to recenter himself and stamp out the flame flickering in his chest. Tonowari gives him space, going ahead and mounting his skimwing, readying himself to embark on their journey. Whilst Ralak is left behind to let out a sluggish, shaky breath, closing his eyes when it dawns on him...
…what he must do, where he must go and who he must see. 
All before coming home this evening. 
“Zu’té.”
Ralak calls his name outside of the secluded, dim marui pod. It’s familiar, yet so unknown. It’s an eerie feeling to be standing here. It’s as if no one’s home. Not a single flame burning, nor the residual heat of a smothered fire pit. But Ralak can sense his presence. It’s thick. Aggressive. Just as it’s always been. It’s only intensified since the incident. 
The silence is deafening now. A message loud enough to have Ralak reconsidering his actions—rethinking his feelings. No part of him really desired to ask anything of this man, much less this. But in the case Tonowari really doesn’t budge with his decision, it is something he must do. No matter how many years have passed. Ralak has moved on…come to terms with what’s happened, and is in a much better place in his life now. Because of you.
You.
He’s doing this for you. Or is he? The fact he’s fathered a child has a major influence on his decision to be standing here to begin with… perhaps it’s something within him driven by nature—by instinct. The further you’ve progressed, the more he’s thought about rekindling this relationship. But he always brushed off these passing thoughts, until they were no longer just thoughts that passed. They became thoughts that lingered and kept him awake some nights. 
Showing their faces the most when Tonowari reminds him of the imminent danger the clan may face.
They reminded him of the good times when they were children. Teasing the ilus when no one was looking, sneaking off to the reef where the adults went to hunt just to see what it was like. But it also reminded him of the more unfortunate moments they shared. Those that will forever leave a scar on their souls, branded by pain and suffering. Since then, Ralak took an oath to never allow his own family to suffer the way he did. 
If this is what he must do, he’ll do it.
“I am in need of a favour.” Ralak finally admits, witnessing a tall, thick silhouette emerge from the marui. 
At this angle, its darkness looms over Ralak ominously. Green glowing eyes peer down at Ralak as the figure's hands cross defensively over his chest. He steps out of the darkness, revealing his inked face and intricately up-kept hair. He looks as if he’s been disturbed or rudely interrupted, evident in the way his eyes pierce fearlessly into Ralak. But Ralak simply returns the leer. 
“Zu’té.” Ralak speaks his name again, a little more sternly this time.
“Brother. To what do I owe this visit?” His tone is sarcastic with undertones of hostility. 
Ralak sighs, turning his head away from his older brother, fixating his gaze elsewhere. His jawbone flutters as he struggles to figure out what words to string together next. This isn’t easy for him—being here with his tail tucked between his legs. 
“It is no way easy for me to ask you of this…I know we have not spoken for some time.”
“Really? You think so? I would say it has been a little more than ‘some time’, no?” Zu’té’s irritation is shining through now.
“Agreed.” Ralak speaks sharply, dropping his head, gaze piercing into his own feet. He swallows and sighs once more, finally lifting his head to look his brother in the face. "I need your help, brother."
“Hm.” Zu’té scoffs, meeting his stare flagrantly. “Let me get this right. You come here, wake me out my sleep, speak to me like this for the first time in over forty-eight seasons…and demand my help?”  
“You are the only one I trust with this.” Ralak grinds out the words, they are hard to admit. 
This quietens Zu’té, causing his features to soften and his fixed stare to falter. To hear this after twelve years, straight from his brother’s mouth has him a little taken aback. There’s only one thing that it could mean—that could bring the golden child before him, begging for a favour. 
War. 
“What does our ‘mighty’ olo’eyktan have you up to now, baby brother?” Zu’té’s tone is especially sardonic when speaking of their father-figure. 
“Plenty.” Ralak chuckles quietly, shaking his head in amusement. His curved lips fade into a thin line, returning his grim expression when he’s reminded yet again of his exact reason for being here. “Look…” Ralak exhales, “...it is nowhere likeable for me to show my face like this. Trust me, I have thought of every possible solution. But…" he shakes his head, hesitant to share what he must say next. "My mate...she is pregnant."
Zu’té’ sighs when he realizes the gravity of the situation, eyes narrowing as they look behind Ralak to scan his surroundings. He’s far from all of the neighbouring marui pods, being the last pod along the mangroves. But if someone were nearby, they could eavesdrop with ease.
Zu’té lightly nudges his head, giving Ralak the silent signal to enter his marui. Ralak moves slowly, a little surprised by his change in...heart. Annoyed with Ralak's sluggish movement, Zu’té rolls his eyes.
“What? You expect an invitation?" Zu’té asks the rhetorical question loud and clear, watching in awe as his not-so-little brother stands almost eye to eye with him. "...you've grown."
"Surprised?" Ralak mutters, ears spasming from his brother's comment—shuffling past him.
"Don't get smart with me, little brother." Zu’té snaps with his ears pinned to his skull, automatically slipping back into disciplining his younger brother like he once used to. Ralak fights the smirk pulling at his lips, making his way further into the neat, well-decorated marui.
——
Ralak came home that night, as he does most nights nowadays with a heavy tail and tensed muscles. That night he broke the news that he had no luck with Tonowari. That he remained tied to his duties as a warrior, teacher, hunter and evidently more…that you had no knowledge of. 
But he made it clear that none of them came before you—his most important duty of all. He promised not only to your father, but also to you, to put you first, no matter what. That he will do whatever he needs to ensure your safety is never compromised. Even if it means putting his pride aside, and asking for help, as he did that night. 
The desire to prepare for your son's arrival grew with each passing day, making you nest like an expecting ikran. You smoked enough meat to last for the next couple months, and gathered as many herbs and fruits that you could manage.
Weaving has been one of your more frequent tasks, making a couple slings and a few more blankets. Ralak was quick to build the cot when he got into a nesting frenzy, too.
But regardless of what your next task was, it was always a little bit harder…a little bit more tiring. Until you were so round and heavy that most of them became unachievable. Your size started to affect you in more ways than just physical. It started to affect you mentally, too. Playing tricks on your mind, making you think negatively about yourself.
And Ralak picked up on that very quickly. 
——
As you wait for his return, you give the marui another deep clean. You take small breaks often, sitting down whenever you become short of breath.
Whilst you sweep the patio, you see your mate trudge up the stairs, ears pinned back and exhaustion wrinkled into his forehead. Ralak sees you and wastes no time to take the broom from you and pull you into his chest. 
He holds you in silence. Comfortable silence. Savouring how you feel against his body. The thud of your heartbeat, the warmth of your skin. You’re his safe place. His home. As he is yours. His embrace is what you look forward to the most after a long day apart. 
Perhaps this is what you both need. A moment of peace and quiet, where your focus is purely on the person in front of you. A break from the mayhem that life can entail, from the pull and push of the rough tides. Serenity. All to be interrupted by Ralak pulling away, holding you by the arms to create some distance between you two. 
Furrowed brows and beaded eyes stare back at you when you look at him. He’s staring at you, but not at you. His eyes pierce into your chest, and then peel away to flick down at his stomach. A smile creeps on his face, and a huff of air through his nostrils as he chuckles softly. His gaze finally meets yours, and he lets go of your arms.
“Your milk is in.” He almost whispers, his fingertips grazing against your stomach. 
“What?” You breathe, caught off guard to say the least. Your head snaps down, eyes searching every inch of your shawl to find two large, growing wet spots on it. “O-Oh.” You stutter, looking back up at him, catching sight of the glistening liquid on his stomach. “Oh.” 
Your cheeks grow hot when blood rushes to them from embarrassment. Just another thing pregnancy has bestowed upon you. “Sorry, Lak.” You turn to reach for the nearby cloth that hangs by the window. 
“What for?” He asks innocently—a little confused. 
He watches as you wipe him down in an almost frantic manner. He stills your movements by grasping your wrists, causing you to drop the cloth. He brings your hands to his lips.
“Mawey [Calm]. Nothing to be ashamed of.” He speaks into the palm of your hands. You hear his words, but you still can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Hey.” 
He lets go, and cups your cheek, urging you to look at him. When you finally do, he’s smiling down at you, allowing his hand to slip down to the bow of your shoulder—his fingers hooking underneath the hem of your shawl. “Let me clean you up, hm?” 
“Oh—okay.” You stutter shyly, feeling his fingers slip under the woven fabric to slip it off your shoulders. “W-Wait.”
And when the material hits the floor, a shiver shakes your spine. Your breasts are exposed to the cool air, sticky nipples hardened into peaks for him to see. They’ve darkened in colour, and are even a little more puffy too.
Honestly, you weren’t the biggest fan of them anymore. You wore thicker tops or shawls to conceal them, just as you did your stomach with your new…stripes. But Ralak loves them, always stealing a glance at every given chance. 
But to know that they’re full with milk makes him feel…on edge. 
His eyes bore into them, unapologetically taking in every detail. His smile falls into a slight smirk, which then droops into a thin line. His jaw flutters as he grits his teeth, biting back his urges. 
“Don’t stare.” You whisper shyly, covering your chest with one arm and your belly with the other. He looks at you, and reaches for your arms, peeling them away from your body. 
“Beautiful.” He states as a fact, intertwining his fingers with yours. “So beautiful, carrying my child.” 
“‘m really not.” You mumble, looking away in shame. You feel his hand move to your face, two fingers tugging at your jaw to have you look up at him. When you finally give in to his nudges, you see the look on his face. It was as if you had deeply and personally offended him.
“You are.” He insists softly. 
You simply shake your head, arms instinctively wrapping around your chest and belly once more. “I don’t feel it. I don’t even know how you can look at me and say that.” 
Ralak almost feels angered by your words. It hurts him to hear you speak of yourself in such a way, especially when it’s far from the truth. If anything, he’s even more attracted to you. Knowing that this is what your body is going through to bring his child into the world has made him even more appreciative of you. 
“Never say such things.” He husks firmly, removing your hands from your body and keeping them in his grasp. “Do not hide.” 
“You have barely touched me.” You retaliate, voice cracking with hurt. 
“Not for that reason.” He’s quick to cut you short, making sure you know that the last thing stopping him from pouncing on you every chance he gets is the way you look. Absolutely not. 
“If that’s what you need to tell yourself, then—”
Frustrated, Ralak shoves your hand onto his loincloth, pressing it firmly against the bulge that strains against the material. “You feel that?” 
You do, you feel every inch of it, hard and warm against your palm. Your face heats up even more, cheeks staining a bright red. Your breath turns raggedy as you struggle to find the words to say. 
“Hm?” He grunts as he presses himself even harder against the palm of your hand. 
“Y-Yes.” You stutter. Ralak turns you around, pressing himself into you from behind. His heated lips are flush against your ear, hot breath prickling your skin. 
“This is what you do to me.” Ralak husks into the shell of your ear, grinding his bulge into the swell of your ass. “Day after day.” He groans almost painfully, filled with all sorts of emotions. He holds you firm against his body, grazing his bottom teeth against the lobe of your ear. “All it takes is a single glance.” His words have your clit pulsing under your tewng and your thighs rubbing against one another. “The sight of you…of your swollen breasts… your swollen womb…” he hisses, on edge and high strung as he caresses your belly, “…it makes me lose myself.” 
“Fuck.” You breathe, reaching behind you to tug his loincloth down in a frantic manner. You feel his lips nibble and nip at the skin behind your ear, making their way down the back of your neck. You can’t help but moan from the feeling, your already stiff nipples tingling from his gentle touches. 
You feel his hands wander over your stomach and under your tewng, his fingers fondling your folds as he gently parts them. He grunts against your neck, inhaling your scent deep in his lungs as his hips stutter into you. Your stickiness coats his fingers as they slip and slide over your hardened nub. 
You tug even harder at his loincloth, struggling to get the annoying thing off him. You let out a frustrated grunt, and he lets loose an amused chuckle, peppering soft kisses down to the bow of your shoulder.
“What is it? Need me to take you right here?” He husks low, voice muffled by his continuous kisses. “…where someone may see?” 
Right, you’re on the patio. 
Out in the open, under the light of the moon. Ralaks marui pod is far from the village on a cul de sac. The only thing further than here is sand, open water and a couple smaller islands off in the distance. However, there' is's always the slim chance of a na’vi or two going for a late night swim or on a romantic adventure far from the village.
But you simply didn’t care. 
If anything it only riles you up more—the riskiness of it all, the thought of being caught. The need to be sneaky and quiet, when all you want to do is moan his name until your voice goes dim. It seems that Ralak feels similarly as you feel him throb against you, excited to take you where you stand. 
“I don’t mind.” You huff shakily, finally tugging the cloth down enough for his cock to spring out. “Do you?” 
You feel him smile against your shoulder when you grip it in your hand, smooth teeth bumping into your skin as his free hand cups your full breast. 
“Not at all, my tanhì.” He breathes, gently kneading the soft flesh, feeling the trickle of your milk flow over the back of his hand. 
“Good.” Your lungs tremble beneath his touch, hand desperately stroking his length. Yet he remains gentle with his touches, pinning your clit between his two fingers as he rubs you slowly. “Then hurry…I need you inside.” 
Ralak quickly moves his kisses back up your neck, and you feel the tip of his tongue tickle the lobe of your ear before he suckles on it lightly. Tingles ripple up your spine, sending your head into a shiver as you lean into his mouth. His fingers dip into your soaking core just as he rolls your tender nipple between his other two digits. 
It’s all too much. All-consuming. Making you gasp for air in lungs that won’t seem to fill. Fog clouds your head. How did you get here? How did this happen? Fuck, it doesn’t matter. Not when you feel like this.
You’re already so sensitive as it is, so tender and delicate, like silk under his fingers. He pushes his two fingers even deeper inside your aching pussy, curling them and earning a whimper from your lips and quiver of your tail.
“Not too loud, oeyä sevin muntxate [my pretty/beautiful wife]”. Ralak whispers the hushed praise, knowing it’s what you need to hear. 
You’re so much warmer around his fingers than usual, so much softer. Wetter. With each curl of his digits comes out a squelch as he works you open for his cock that he’s been dying to plunge inside you. 
You wrap your leg around his, perching your heel on the side of thigh as you lean all your weight back into him. He steadies his knees, supporting you with ease. Your head slumps back into his shoulder, opening up your neck to his hot breaths, an arm reaching behind you to fist his hair. 
His brows are tense and his breath is heavy. He’s overcome with arousal and he can’t keep his composure as your scent grows stronger now your throat is directly under his nose. Truthfully it’s been too long, he knows that. He knows he’s been too protective, too cautious. Depriving you and him of the touch that’s necessary between a mated pair. 
His fingers slip out of you, now expertly unravelling the loose knot just barely keeping your tewng on you. As it drops to the floor his fingers are back where they were, rubbing sloppy circles into your clit before spreading your pussylips apart. His hips stutter as he attempts to align the crown of his cock with your slit and finally buck forward when he senses your little, exposed hole. 
His cock sinks inside you at an achingly slow pace—inch by inch. You let loose a lengthy moan when you feel him fill you completely, no longer caring if anyone hears you. 
“Hnng—I missed you.” The gruff words slip out as he bottoms out inside your cunt. He has longed to feel your gummy walls squeeze oh-so tightly around his cock. “You alright?” He checks on you in a daze, voice thick with want—with the desire to pummel your little pussy until your voice is hoarse. But the last thing he wants is to hurt his heavily pregnant mate. 
“Mhm, ple-ase.” You purr with need, closing your eyes and relaxing completely into him. Trusting someone this much feels too good. Ralak moves slowly, pumping his cock in and out of you in a languid haze, tickling your sensitive clit with just the tips of his fingers. 
“Tanhì—haah—you are squeezing me so tight.” Ralak moans as his strokes grow with intent. His hips roll deep, shoving and forcing his cock inside your sensitive cunt until his swollen balls kiss your clit. 
He’s unapologetically coaxing out the orgasm you’ve been denied for so long with only a few lazy thrusts. And he knows it. He can feel it from the way you clench around him. From the way your thighs tremble a little more after each deep stroke…from the sweet, filthy noises that shamelessly drip from your lips. 
“Oh my—Ralak! I-I’m gonna—” You sputter the words between choked sounds, eyes welling with tears from the burn between your legs. 
“I know, I know.” He huffs, dragging his hot tongue along the length of your throat. The truth is, he’s close too. But he can’t allow himself to finish inside you. He can’t risk letting himself go and pounding recklessly into your poor, tender pussy. He’s already had a long day. “Let it out, tìyawn [love].”
Its almost cathartic. 
Weeks of pent up frustration released in a few minutes, leaving you near convulsing in his grip. You can’t stop the flutter of your pussy walls if you try, it’s out of your control, much like the surge of white fire going right through you. Your legs fight to stay open and you hold onto your mate to keep you standing. Gurgled noises spill from your lips as your body shudders under him. His hips still, keeping his cock buried to the hilt inside your quivering cunt as he holds you tight, supporting you until you finish riding out your high. 
“Good girl. Good girl.” He praises you in a hushed, shaky voice, extremely wound up from feeling you flourish so beautifully under his touch. It's a miracle that he didn't empty himself inside you right then and there. 
“But you—but you haven’t—” You sputter, collapsing into him as your legs give out. 
“I know. It is alright..” He hums, carefully leading you inside the marui to lay you on the bed. 
“Thought you were c-cleaning me u-up. Not mak-king m-more of a mess.” Your breath is relentlessly hitching as you watch him hastily remove his tewng that’s been digging into his thighs. A reminder of exactly how quickly things happened. 
“You are right.” Ralak tsks, cocking a brow as he stares down at you with a predatory leer. “I did say that, didn’t I?” 
Ralak situates himself between your legs, crouching over you, ensuring there’s plenty of space between him and your stomach. His cock presses between your sticky folds as his lips press against your clammy neck. He tastes the faint saltiness of the thin film of sweat on your skin as he drags his lips down your chest—between your breasts. 
“Lak…” You whisper, back bowing against the bed. 
You’re way too sensitive right now, like an exposed nerve. His eyes snap up and lock with yours, responding to you moaning his name. His tongue darts out, sampling a taste of the spilled milk on your breast. Then his eyes slam shut, tensed brows and scrunched nose telling you that he’s unsure of the flavour in his mouth. 
Eyes widening, you’re taken aback by his actions, feelings of shyness and embarrassment creeping back in. Fisting his hair, you pull gently at his head to pry him off your chest, only for him to resist your tugs. 
“You shouldn’t have done—why’d you do—” You struggle to find the right words at this moment, flustered and nervous that he’d do that. 
But what leaves you even more speechless is when he opens his eyes to reveal dots for pupils, a look you only see when he’s high strung. And then he eagerly takes your nipple into his mouth, latching on and ensuring the suction is airtight. The tip of his tongue flicks at your hardened nipple a few times before he gently suckles at your breast.
A tingling sensation radiates your chest and you feel it in the pit of your stomach. Your breath catches in your throat, a little surprised by his lewd behaviour. And soon, all you can hear are the repeated, muffled gulps of your warm milk flowing down his throat.
“W-What are yo-ou d-doing, my love?” You mewl, squirming underneath him from the strange feeling. He unlatches harshly with an audible pop, leaving your pointed nipple misshapened and exposed. 
“Cleaning you.” He huffs quickly as he catches his breath, diving back in to lap up the milk leaking from your other neglected breast. Your head throws back in what is undeniably pleasure now, legs tightening around his waist. You look down in a daze, watching him feast greedily, feeling his hips begin to stammer against you. 
“Fuck—I didn’t know this i-is what you meant.” You’re finally calming down from your orgasm now, already feeling your body gearing up to have another. His desperation is pungent. Evident in the way his cock grinds between your soft, slippery folds, scenting your cunt with it. 
He pulls off you with yet another pop, his tongue swiping his bottom lip so not to let the bead of milk dripping off of it go to waste. He’s huffing and puffing against you, trailing his wet kisses down your curved stomach as he tucks your legs back. You feel his hot breath against your thighs and your legs tremble in anticipation. 
“Kalin, kalin [sweet, sweet].” He mumbles, kissing your pulsing clit. “Oeyä kalin [My sweet].” 
“Oh shit.” You let loose the breathy curse when you feel his lips pucker around your over sensitive nub, and squeal when he begins to suck on it too. Your hands fly to his head, grasping at his hair to shove his face further into your cunt. He devours you with exhilaration, lapping at your leaking slit to savour your sweetness. 
His cock is aching now. He’s so hard it’s painful. He can’t stop throbbing and his cock strains so hard it’s swollen. He wants to shove himself back inside you— your warmth—and hump at you until his marked you with his essence. 
He can’t help but touch himself as he pleasures you. Stroking his cock with every lick of your pussy. Thrusting into his hand when he feels you throb against his tongue. He’s groaning and grunting into your cunt, urgently chasing his own release as he sucks on you for his own pleasure. 
Too busy to realise that you’ve been begging him to slow down a bit. That you’re too sensitive. That you feel like you may explode if he continues. 
“Ralak! I just came! F-Fuck—” You yank his head away, hurriedly rubbing at your sore pussy.
Ralak pants for air, pulling back into a standing position to reveal that he’s been fucking his hand this entire time. It’s glossy with his precum as it dribbles down his strake. He’s frantically stroking himself, staring brazenly down at your pussy—taking in how it’s flushed and swollen, glistening with his spit and your slick. It’s a delicious sight, tempting him to go in for another taste. 
He’s close and you can tell, his hips are stuttering erratically and he’s groaning like a dying man. You sit up slowly, bringing yourself to your knees as you shuffle your way closer to him. Your chest is level to his cock and you cup your full breasts with both hands, pushing them together only inches away from him. 
He seems a little confused, unsure of what your next move may be. Fuck, you aren’t even sure of what your next move is. But you’re going with your instinct, pinching your nipples until they begin to leak milk. His brows jump, the sight of that sends his hips stammering into his hand. With each huff and thrust sends his cock a little closer to you, until his swollen cockhead is poking at your breasts. 
You shuffle a little closer, moaning softly from watching him get off like this. Then you feel his sticky cock slip in between your breasts, and his hand falls to your shoulders. 
Now he’s fucking your tits in a frenzy, his leaking tip prodding at your lips. You stick your tongue out for a taste, allowing his cockhead to slip and slide against it. He’s groaning and moaning, eyes fixed in the sight beneath him. The pressure from his fat cock between your breasts only makes you leak even more, and that’s when he loses it completely.
“Oh, fuck.” He growls, thrusting hard enough to shove his cockhead into your mouth. You feel him throb violently against your tongue, his thick, hot load coating your cheeks until they're full to the brim. He pulls out as soon as he realises what he’s down, immediately reaching for your bedside bucket to spit in. 
But you shake your head, glossy eyes staring up at him as you swallow his cum with a singular, loud gulp. His eyes bulge, his hands flying to cup your cheeks as he quickly searches your eyes. You simply smile, using a thumb to swipe the single bead of cum on your chin and pop it into your mouth. 
Features softening, he returns the smile, chest heaving wildly as it swells with pride. 
——
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