#these are the nutrient cycles thank you

[koranika]

I hate to be the one to say this but where do y’all think a lot of the nutrients in soil comes from?

i think it's fucked up that there are plants that decided they wanted to eat meat

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode V

Something is Brewing

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 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. 

——

[daycourtofficial]

Blood moon in Autumn

Pairing: Eris x Rhys’s sister!reader | WC: 1.3k | warnings: mentions of nudity, mentions of sex, mentions of violence

Summary: fae cycles are no joke, but your mate is always there to provide you comfort in the best way possible: by being your personal heating pad

Author’s note: this is part of my gingerfucker series, however this can be read as a standalone. @writingcroissant actually gave me the idea for this so everyone say thanks Tori 🥰

Death was imminent, you were sure of it. Every fiber of your being ached, the pain emanating from your lower abdomen through the rest of your body. It felt like someone was stabbing you with a rusted, dull knife, the blade carving out your insides slowly at their leisure.

You heard your bedroom door open and close, footsteps coming towards the bed. You groan in greeting as the steps get closer.

“Just leave me here to die, Er.”

A soft chuckle makes its way to your ears, despite the layers of blankets you are burrowed beneath, the blankets not offering you the comfort you so desperately crave.

“You’ll be remembered for even in death, your flare for the dramatics never faltered.”

You push your face from the blankets, allowing your face to be seen. You scowl towards your mate, his smirk making you want to push him from the window. You take in the sight of him - he had changed into more relaxed clothes since you saw him last. Gone is his formal jacket, a deep red velvet with golden leaf embroidery. The garment would make anyone look like court royalty, but on Eris it made him look positively radiant, as if the fires of Autumn truly originated from him, as if the apple orchards and the crops found their nutrients from him. You loved when he wore it, your fingers tracing the fine embroidery along the lapel as you would straddle his lap, grinding softly-

You groaned, the idea of moving so much making you nauseous and slightly dizzy.

Now he wore a loose, billowy shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, casual brown trousers covering his toned legs. If it were any other day, you’d devour him. Any other day, you’d pull him directly into bed, pushing his clothes off of him, neither of you leaving bed until you slipped his shirt on to grab the two of you some pastries.

Instead, the sight of him made you slightly annoyed - he seemed fine as he set down a tray on the table next to you. He was fine this morning when he rose, having to tend to some things before returning. You were dying, and he was perfectly fine. You groaned, shifting to sit up on your elbows. “What’s this?”

“I believe those of us who leave our beds call it ‘food’.”

His smirk disappears at the pillow that hits his feet. He sends you a withering glare that just makes you scoff. “That could have hit the tray of coffee I made for you.”

You perked up at the sound of coffee - you were sure the warm liquid would at least distract your insides. Or at least provide you some comfort.

You’d take anything at this point.

“Did you make the coffee? Or did you just prepare the tray?”

“What difference does it make? Coffee is coffee.”

“Well, if Jora made it, then I aimed perfectly for your feet.”

“What if it was my coffee?”

“Then I would have aimed for the tray.”

He gives you a withering stare, his fingers halting their movements. “Now that’s no way to treat your mate who lovingly made you coffee.”

You squint your eyes, “if it’s my mate that’s making the coffee, it’s more of an assassination attempt than love.”

“You wound me, my love.” Despite your grievances, he continues preparing your cup exactly as you like it.

“Is the wound fatal?”

“Perhaps.”

“I shall pay my respects at your funeral, then. With my next husband.”

His eyebrow quirks as he rests the cup on your side table before he rounds the bed, peeling back the layers of blankets on top of you. He crawls in behind you, his body heat causing you to melt.

“Next husband?”

“I will get lonely. Besides, the hounds need a male’s touch. They’ll grow soft under me.”

“And who is this next husband? Is he capable of this?”

Before you can ask what ‘this’ is, he slides his arm around your waist, his palm lying flat over your lower abdomen, his fingers spreading across your skin. Your skin began heating under his touch, and you moaned at the relief he provided you.

“If he’s not, he’s not worth it. Perhaps one of your brothers will be capable. Lu, maybe?”

Eris growled at the teasing, your friendship with Lucien a constant sore spot for him amidst his rekindling relationship with his youngest brother. He hated to admit it, but he seethed with jealousy watching you interact with Lucien, the way your conversation would flow easily.

A life of regrets and Lucien takes several of the top five spots.

“Lucien would make a terrible husband. You’d never see him - he spends all day brushing his hair.”

“I like a well-groomed male.”

“The noises his eye makes would keep you up all night.”

“I think you’re getting us confused. The whirring would soothe me to sleep.”

He buries his face into your neck, mumbling, “you are not marrying Lucien.”

“Alastor, perhaps?”

You clutched onto Eris’s arm, the heat providing you some relief. You nuzzle your head into his bicep, and he blows out a hot breath, “if I die, and you are unable to continue alone, marry outside of my family, leave my brothers out of your marriage pool.”

You open your mouth, but he cuts you off.

“Not Azriel.”

You huff, “well if I can’t have a Vanserra or Azriel, I’ll stay alone forever.”

“I prefer that alternative.”

“I will rule Autumn alone. Just as Beron would have liked.”

You spin in his arms, pushing his shoulder down so he’d lay on his back. You crawl on top of him, laying so every inch of you is touching him in some way. Not an inch of space exists between your bodies. You poke his ribs, urging him to start heating up. He ignores you, so you start tugging on the bond between you two.

“Patience is a virtue, don’t they teach that in the war camps they call villages?”

“I’m dying, I think the Mother can forgive my lack of virtues.”

He huffs, but starts warming his skin to better provide comfort. You groan, laying in silence with him for several moments, the heat a comfort to the constant pain.

A few moments later you roll, your back laying across his chest.

“Ah,” you sigh, the pain in your lower back lessening at his touch.

“You’re spinning like game over a campfire.”

He rests his hands on your lower abdomen, the warmth making the stabbing pain into a dull ache.

You sigh at the contact, practically melting at how he soothes your muscles.

“I want to go bathe but that requires movement and leaving this bed.”

Eris laughs into your hair, but you hear the water running in the bathroom. You groan just thinking about how soothing the water would feel on your joints. You breathed out slowly through your nose, preparing yourself for the trek across the room.

You rolled off of Eris, and before you could get off the bed, Eris moved from behind to in front of you, his feet landing softly on the floor.

“Care for a ride?”

You nod, and his arms sweep you up.

“I think this is my preferred method of travel.”

“Perhaps this is how you will tour Autumn, hm? I shall carry you throughout the lands.”

You laugh as he sets you down, helping you remove your clothes. He must be warming the air somehow, because you don’t feel the chill of the air when your clothes are completely off. He helps you into the water, which you melt into immediately. You close your eyes, laying back in the tub, the porcelain a nice surface to lean against.

You’ve completely forgotten about Eris’ presence until you feel him nudge your shoulders forward, his lean body slipping behind you into the tub. His legs stretch besides yours, and you lean your head back to rest on his shoulder.

“There’s no way my next husband will be as helpful as you are.”

He breathes out through his nose, “I fear you can only marry down from here. A pity, truly.”

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Thanks for reading 💕

[pinkpinkmermayyy]

Part 1 of the Transformers One Tangled AU!

thank you so much @sassycandypoetry for helping me with the different parts and concepts of the tangled au, so here's part 1! Part 2 might have more time until it comes out due to school but I hope ya'll enjoy this first part!

tw for this part: childbirth, kidnapping

Also here's some vocabulary I might need to clarify for those who aren't that informed on cybertronian terms:

Groon: an hour

Cycle: a year

Jour: a month

Helm: head

Servo: hand

Digit: finger

Also, when the text is in italics, Starscream is narrating

let me know if I missed anything else!

taglist: @punkeropercyjackson @aishabellasbigblogofeverything @akifandragon

(also let me know if you want to be on the taglist or if you want to be removed!)

---

This… is the story of how I died…

No no, don’t worry, this is a pretty fun story, especially when you compare it to my previous missions, but the truth is, it’s not even mine. This is the story of a mech named Bee.

And it all starts with the Earth’s sun.

A long time ago, cycles before the fall of the Primes, it was discovered that a single drop of sunlight had fallen from the Earth’s atmosphere and onto the organic planet. From that drop of sunlight grew a magical, golden flower. It had the power to heal the sick and injured, and upon the discovery of this powerful resource, the Primes sought to protect it and make sure it didn’t fall into the wrong servos.

Alpha Trion in particular was responsible for this flower. Flowers, in general, have never been a part of Cybertron’s ecosystem, so he’d come up with the plan to create a secret room as a part of the Prime’s headquarters where oxygen was always present, and a device was placed right above the flower that acted as a sun for it to receive the proper nutrients alongside the H2O that Alpha Trion fed it. The flower was protected, and it never fell into the wrong servos.

That was until Sentinel betrayed the Primes and allied with the Quintessons. After killing the Primes, he immediately took the flower along with the sun device and kept it to himself, using it selfishly to stay young and healthy forever. And all he had to do was recite a simple incantation.

“Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine,” Sentinel sang, sitting on one knee as his hands orbited around the plant, glowing a bright yellow-golden. “make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine.”

“Heal what has been hurt, change the fate’s design. Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine, what once was mine…” He felt his scratches and injuries heal along with any signs of rusting smooth over, a cool tingling sensation on his frame, and he smiled in satisfaction.

You get the gist, he sings and suddenly he’s all new, creepy right?

Sentinel was able to keep this plant a secret and away from the public eye, but that all changed when a certain miner couple were in dire need of a cure, and heard of the flower and its properties.

D-16 kneeled near his and Orion’s shared berth, holding on to Orion’s servo. His lover looked over to the grey miner weakly, barely managing to smile, as if still trying to bring his spirits up despite his condition. D-16 smiled back to reassure Orion knowing fully it was false, and affectionately kissed the back of Orion’s servo.

 It started 6 jours into Orion’s carrying period, with a weak cough and warm face plate. Then it was a nasal voice and watery eyes, a sneeze here and there. The miners just thought it was a case of short circuits and insulation damage due to the freezing temperatures of the mines, and even the sick weren’t allowed to leave their shifts. But then one day, while digging for more energon, Orion had collapsed, leaving D-16 in a terrible panic as he frantically carried him back into their small shared room. Of course, Darkwing had ordered them back but D-16 ignored it, leaving the larger authority figure to mutter about how “miners shouldn’t be getting carelessly knocked up.”

Now it was 8 jours into Orion carrying his and D-16’s sparkling, and there was no sign of him getting better. When one of the medics assigned to the miners grimly told D-16 that Orion and the sparkling would die and that there was no cure for his condition, he collapsed into a puddle of tears. He never told Orion this; he didn’t want to burden his lover even more, and he couldn’t even look Orion in the eye to avoid crying again.

He coped by working endlessly, mining even when their shifts were over. The other miners noticed but didn’t dare to speak to him, worried they might provoke him to snap. Elita-1 was the first to break this silence, bearing more than sympathy and “sorry”s for D-16.

“What is it?” D-16 asked, his gaze lowered as the pink bot walked over to him. It was late at night, and most other miners were taking advantage of the time they got to rest, but D-16 mindlessly swept the floors to keep him busy. She gave him a pitying look before continuing, something D-16 didn’t appreciate. Elita got straight to the point.

“I think there’s something that could save Orion and your sparkling.”

D-16 scoffed, not looking up. “Last I heard the medic said he was going to die and I just have to deal with it,” he said in a cynical tone.

“I’m serious, D-16. if you want to at least try to save your conjux, follow me.”

D-16 looked up to see Elita walking away, and he begrudgingly followed her, catching up to her quickly. “Where are we even going?” 

She ignored him, leading him into the archives, going deeper and deeper through the aisles of Cybertronian knowledge. She only stopped until she had reached the edge of the room, something D-16 didn’t even think existed due to how vast the Archives seemed. 

These shelves were much less pristine and shiny than the shelves at the front of the Archives room, and the books were tattered and nearly falling from their spines. Elita carefully picked up a light green book in a similar condition, and the author that was listed on the bottom of the cover was scratched out ominously. Elita slowly flipped the pages to the one she desired, which featured a hazy illustration of what seemed to be a plant with yellowish petals. D-16 had never seen anything like it.

“I was afraid that they would find this book and censor it but it’s still here, and this,” she said, pointing to the illustration, “may just help you.”

She squinted her optics to whisper out the blurry text. “‘During the 15th and 16th centuries on Earth,’ which is about 10 stellar cycles before the fall of the Primes,” Elita added for D-16’s information before continuing, “‘a drop of sunlight from Earth’s sun fell onto the planet’s soil, and a golden flower grew from it. It is said that the flower could heal all illnesses and injuries, make both bots and humans younger and even reverse death, and the Primes preserved that flower before Sentinel Prime took on the task of protecting it after their demise.’”

“Sentinel Prime?” D-16 said in disbelief. “B-but, how have I not heard of this before?” 

“The book was probably banned after traveling to other planets became illegal. The author was either imprisoned or even executed due to this,” Elita said matter-of-factly. 

D-16 stood up, brows furrowed. Why would he keep such a life-changing resource away from everyone? This could help millions! It might even help…

D-16 realized why Elita brought him here. “But how? How the hell would a miner like me be able to get a plant that is probably highly guarded? And steal from Sentinel of all bots?”

“Just think about this D-16, would Orion do it for you if the roles were switched?”

D-16 paused, pondering over it. 

If he had been the one to get sick instead of Orion, and there was a chance to save him even in the most dangerous possible mission, Orion would have done it. He’d risk losing his life and a limb or two just to save D-16 because he loved him way more than any God, even someone like Sentinel. D-16 slowly nodded in defeat.

“I don’t know about how to use the flower,” Elita started. She smiled, facing D-16 and putting a palm on his shoulder plate. “But the book never said you had to retrieve it alone.”

—

D-16 and Elita ran for as long as they could, not even realizing the rest of Sentinel’s guards had lost them amidst all the panic and chaos. D-16 panted heavily, careful to not drop the flower and blow his whole operation. Their masks made it hard for them to see, the cutouts for their eyes barely giving them sight.

When they finally reached the entrance to D-16 and Orion’s small home, the grey miner looked back at Elita-1 with pure gratitude in his optics.

“Thank you, really. I didn’t think you cared that much about saving Orion.”

Elita-1 smiled back warmly, despite how panic-stricken she had been just a few moments ago. “I know I seem like I only care about my job and being promoted, but I care, truly I do.” 

She then playfully hit D-16’s shoulder plate “But that’s the last time I’m doing something like that, so tell Orion NOT to try to die on us again once he gets better.”

D-16 chuckled. “Sure thing Elita.” She then descended from the premises, as D-16 unlocked the door within the mine shaft’s walls and closed it behind him as he entered.

He felt his spark ache when he saw Orion on the berth, tears streaking his cheeks as he tried to sit up, to no avail. D-16 remembered that Ratchet told him that the illness would become extremely painful for the sick bot in their processor, abdomen area, and hinges, and that was what happened now. D-16 felt awful for leaving his lover here alone for groons, but he knew Orion’s health would become better now with the mysterious plant.

D-16 placed the flower on the table next to the berth, hastily grabbing a spare bottle of liquid energon he had saved and an empty bowl. He poured the energon into the bowl, flinching when a couple of drops spilled. He then set aside the now empty bottle and held the flower slowly, his servos shaking. He didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to use it and didn’t want to accidentally kill the flower, so he submerged it into the bowl as slowly as any bot could move.

To his amazement, the flower started glowing, the golden color from it dissolving into the energon and changing from a vibrant blue to a golden yellow.

D-16 sighed, walking over to Orion with the bowl full of golden energon.

He looked to see if Orion was still awake. He was, and he was looking right at D-16, his eyes filled with pain. D-16 spoke softly.

“Orion, this is going to make you feel better. All you need to do is let me feed you, m’kay?”

Orion nodded, too exhausted to speak, and D-16 kneeled in front of the red-and-blue mech. He reached his servos towards Orion’s open dermas, who consumed the drink until the bowl was empty, the petals now dry grey husks.

D-16 just prayed that Orion’s illness would be gone by morning, as his lover finally fell asleep after hours of excruciating pain. The grey mech lay beside his sleeping partner, and he gave him a small peck on his cheek plate before succumbing to exhaustion as well.

—

It was nearing daytime, and Sentinel strode through the golden halls before any other bots in the building woke up. He held onto his arm and winced slightly in disgust, noticing the rust that had grown on it. 

He of course kept it a secret, but before he betrayed the Primes and took away the flower, he had caught a disease known as Cosmic Rust, where the victim’s body would slowly rust away into nothing. It also made the bot age much quicker than others and could even make it possible for bots to die of old age. There was still no cure for it, so he resigned himself to using the flower’s ability to heal all ailments to subdue it before it returned weeks later as a painful reminder of his curse.

This was the cycle Sentinel had been living by for decades now, but when he reached the room where the flower was kept, the guards were knocked out, the door was wide open, and the flower was gone.

—

The first thing D-16 noticed when he went online was that Orion was absent from his side of the berth, making the grey mech immediately jump to his pedes. He rushed out the door, only to find Orion happily laughing alongside Elita-1 and other miners, walking around and standing on his pedes with no struggle whatsoever. The palm of his servo held his large abdomen as he chatted with the other miners before noticing D-16 walking outside their shared home.

Orion looked over to the shocked D-16, his radiant blue eyes shinier than ever, and gave him a large smile as he waved.

“Mornin’ D!” His voice was bright and loud like it had always been before, and D-16 felt a huge wave of relief and gratefulness wash over him. 

He ran over to Orion and gave him a large hug, managing to be gentle on Orion’s belly before lifting him and spinning him around, placing him down on the floor after a moment. Orion laughed more before D-16 gazed warmly into Orion’s eyes and kissed his dermas passionately. His optics were shut tight, and Orion closed his as he leaned into the kiss before they both pulled away.

—

The days after that were blissful after months of stress and devastation for D-16. Because Orion was now 8 and a half jours into his carrying period, he was dismissed from work until after the sparkling was delivered (to the higher-ups' dismay), relieving D-16 of any more worries about how Orion would fare in his state while mining. The only downside was that Darkwing handed him exceedingly dangerous and strenuous work due to his frustration, but it didn’t bother him as much as it should have. 

That was, until when the sparkling was about to be born. D-16 had dropped everything and ran straight out of the cave, racing towards his home and staying right by Orion’s side as he groaned and hissed out in pain, squeezing his servo in his as he felt a sense of dreadful déjà vu creep up on him upon seeing his conjux’s frame. Other miners crowded out the door but D-16 only allowed Elita-1 and a medic she had hastily called, while everyone else remained curious about the whole situation.

After groons of tension and spiraling intrusive thoughts that invaded D-16’s mind as he stayed by Orion’s side, the sparkling was delivered. While the medic held the fragile and wailing sparkling in her servos, D-16 caressed Orion’s face plate, thanking Primus that Orion was safe and okay. The medic told the couple that she’d clean the sparkling up and return him to them after a groon and a half, and she left, leaving D-16 and Elita-1 to tend to Orion.

—

Sentinel Prime rarely saw to the birth of new sparklings that were sired and carried by miners, but this one, in particular, was very peculiar. Nothing about him was alarming regarding his health, in fact, he seemed much brighter than normal sparklings. His optics were a radiant blue, similar to his carrier’s, and his armor was a beautiful golden yellow. He didn’t cry excessively like other sparklings, instead giggling and smiling almost all the time, a trait that would’ve been annoying on a grown mech or fem but was very endearing on the sparkling. 

Sentinel entered the room, prompting the medics to address him formally, not noticing the growing rust on his arm plate that he covered with his other servo. He glanced at the smiling sparkling, who looked up at the blue and gold bot with big doe eyes. The golden color of the sparkling instantly caught Sentinel’s eye, and if it weren’t for his slightly panicked state from the night before he would have complimented it. He offered to proceed with the procedure that only miner sparklings had to go through shortly after birth, which the medics agreed to. 

They seemed surprised that Sentinel would concern himself with such a mild task, but they also spoke amongst themselves about how that makes him more honorable in their eyes, caring for sparklings from lower classes.

Sentinel smirked while hearing their conversation two rooms away from him as he quickly but painstakingly plucked the t-cog from the sparkling’s chest before returning the sparkling back to the medics, allowing him to go on with the rest of his day.

But now it couldn’t seem to leave his processor. That golden color looked so familiar, so strangely recognizable and he was drawn to it. He held the t-cog that he took from the sparkling, debating whether he should throw it away like he did all the others now, wondering why he felt that this sparkling was so important, so significant. It was when he looked back on the empty room that once contained his flower, it clicked for him.

No, it couldn’t be…

But it made sense. Two seemingly cogless bots stole the magic flower from the tower, and anyone could connect that to Orion’s miraculous recovery. He supposed that one of those bots was D-16, while the other bot was unknown. He debated punishing the grey miner with execution or imprisonment, but knowing that the sparkling might have the same healing powers as the plant, a different idea sprung to mind.

Conveniently, Airachnid walked in at that moment, cringing at the larger wound of rust on Sentinel’s arm.

“Sir, your arm-”

“I know Airachnid, I know,” Sentinel responded in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose plate with his digits. He then rested his chin on his servo, optics looking down in thought.

“Airachnid,” he began, looking up at her. “You know of that new sparkling that was just born today? The sparkling of Orion Pax and D-16?”

“No sir, but what would you like me to do?”

“I think that the sparkling has the same powers as the golden flower, and I want you to check if that’s true. If not, leave him, and I’ll jail D-16 for thievery and treason.” Aiarchnid nodded, taking in the orders precisely.

“But if the sparkling has those powers, bring him to me. That’ll be punishment enough for the thief, losing a sparkling. Besides, no miners could ever properly take care of a sparkling, especially one so valuable.” He added with a chuckle.

All Sentinel knew was that D-16 would pay for stealing his precious flower, no matter what.

—

“What should his name be Orion?” D-16 asked, cradling the sparkling in his arms. Orion thought for a moment and then smiled mischievously.

“How about D-Pax?”

D-16 furrowed his brows in thought and smiled softly. “You know, that sounds pretty good. That could actually work!”

Orion started giggling, to D-16’s confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing, but you haven’t heard the name before?”

D-16 raised his brow. “No?”

Orion smirked, leaning into D-16’s touch. “It’s our ship name.”

D-16 widened his eyes and laughed, putting his arm around Orion while securing the sparkling in the other. “Really?”

“Yeah! Darkwing actually came up with it to taunt us but it caught on, and now he hates it.” He chuckled, kissing his conjux’s cheek before resting his helm on D-16’s shoulder plate. “So you wanna name him that?”

D-16 looked at his sparkling fondly, now sleeping soundly in his arm. “Yeah, I do.”

I’ll give you a hint: that’s Bee.

At that moment, everything was perfect. You’d think that this was the end of the story, that everything just stayed fine, right?

But then that moment ended.

It was night now. D-16 and Orion shortly fell into a deep sleep in each other’s arms, D-16’s servo cradling the back of Orion’s helm. Their sparkling fell asleep in his small makeshift crib, occasionally mumbling incoherent babbles in his sleep, while the light of Luna 1 and Luna 2 shone on the sleeping sparkling.

But suddenly, the moonlight was replaced by a spider-like shadow that cast over the golden sparkling.

Airachnid bent over, one of her servos lightly touching the side of the sparkling while she started singing the incantation. 

“Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine…”

The sparkling’s armor started to glow, and what appeared to be tiny swirls and flower-shaped designs that looked embroidered onto the sparkling appeared as well despite not being present before. Airachnid smiled in satisfaction before she heard Orion stirring and in horror, saw his optics open.

She quickly grabbed the sparkling, jerking him awake, making him start crying for the first time in his life as Airachnid carried him close to her chassis to try to muffle his sobbing.

Orion jumped out of his berth while D-16, now awake, gasped in terror while chasing after Orion, who ran as fast as his pedes could go after the kidnapper.

But it was all in vain. When Orion reached for the door leading outside the mine shaft, the bot was long gone, his baby with them.

Under Sentinel’s orders, she broke in, stole the sparkling, and just like that; gone!

Devastated, Orion, D-16, and the rest of the miners had searched for the sparkling. They also filed a report for the kidnapping, in which Sentinel Prime publicly declared he would be determined to search for the precious sparkling, but of course that was a lie. 

The miners dubbed him the “Lost Sparkling”, and even those who weren’t well acquainted with D-16 and Orion mourned the loss, as being able to even have a sparkling as a miner was rare due to so many complications they could face and how hard it was to raise one in those conditions.

Meanwhile, deep in Sub-Level 50, Sentinel decided to raise the sparkling as his own.

The sparkling (named B-127 by Sentinel) , now 6 cycles old, sat on Sentinel Prime’s lap, his frame much smaller in comparison to the false prime’s. He had his optics closed as he recited the same song Airachnid did 6 cycles before.

“Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine, what once was mine…”

Sentinel felt the rust disappearing off his body and grinned, sighing in relief as the glow faded from the sparkling’s frame. He opened his wide blue optics and looked up at Sentinel.

“Why can’t I go outside?” he asked innocently as Sentinel still held Bee’s small servo on his own. Sentinel’s smile was replaced with a frown and he sighed, stroking bee’s helm.

“When you were born, the Quintessons and thousands of other bots alike knew of your power and tried kidnapping you, intent on enslaving you. But I was able to stop them. The world outside has become a dangerous place, filled with horrible, selfish people. You must stay here, where it’s safe. Do you understand, my flower?”

B-127 looked down, his miniscule antennae lowering. “Yes papa.”

Despite Bee being a beacon of light he was shrouded in darkness by Sentinel, but one day, that was all going to change.

[mrs-kodzuken]

anything for you ⟢ bokuto k.

synopsis: dating pro!volleyball player Bokuto Koutarou meant that you dealt with a lot of hate that you didn't expect. That lead to a severe newly developed eating disorder that you hid away from your boyfriend, until he found out.

warnings: eating disorder, starving, recovery, healthy meals, emotionally intelligent Bokuto helps you, social media hate, comfort, angst and fluff

This is the sixth day you've gone without food; you could feel hunger pains slowly drifting away. You dreaded the next time they would come, begging for nutrients. Swallowing another sip of diet coke, you didn't worry about it.

After all, you have always told yourself that being skinny means being pretty.

How you desperately wanted to be pretty. How you craved it more than anything else. And fuck, it did hurt to have to keep this newfound development away from your boyfriend, Bokuto.

You both have been in a relationship for almost two years now. You remember that fateful day where you had met him by accident after going to a game for your cousin who loved a certain volleyball player.

You couldn't remember who exactly it was because you were just so captivated by the tall and muscular player who was rumbustious and oozed masculinity.

He had caught your eye and unbeknownst to you, you had also caught his as well. At the end of the game, when he was finished with interviews about his teams' win, he actually came up to you instead to talk about how long you've been a fan.

"Oh! This is my first game, I'm actually here with my cousin." You nervously chuckled, the large volleyball player in front of you making you feel giddy.

"Hey, hey, hey! Did you like my skills? Since you're new can you really tell me how it looked?" The man exclaimed, he sure was a wild one, you could already tell that.

His owlish black and white hair streaks paired with his aureolin colored, astonishing eyes. He sure was definitely blessed, not just in his physical appearance but in his game play too.

You made sure to tell him just that, especially when he scored points for his team. You weren't really sure of volleyball lingo, but you knew that he was unquestionably an eminent player.

"So, would you mind going to dinner with me? I'd love to talk more with you in some place that isn't crowded." He slyly asked, smooth moving into asking you out.

Who are you to say no to someone like him?

In the end, you agreed, and that first date was one of many that lead up to the point of him asking you to be his girlfriend. In which you obviously said yes. However, coming back to your situation right now, it was a shame that things turned out the way they did.

The more you and Koutarou had been with one another, the more self-conscious you got from social media platforms of his fans calling you all sorts of obscenities.

The main one that got you was being called fat, never in your life where you called that. You were raised to eat regular healthy portions, had your fair share of exercise and quite frankly, you felt confident in your skin, even if you were more on the curvy side of things.

That bit of information made you slowly start harming yourself. You would tell yourself that just skipping one meal wouldn't hurt, besides you didn't need the calories anyway?

Then it was every Tuesday you wouldn't eat, then thrice a week, and so on. The cycle continued until you got sick and had to call out of work.

Surviving on gum packets and diet coke honestly got you nowhere.

You could feel yourself getting skinnier, in which you'd end up pretty in the end. That's what you wanted right?

As you pretended that everything was fine, dandy, and normal, a specific night had made everything flip upside down.

Bokuto was finally home after a traveling season, being gone for three weeks was rough on the both of you. You missed him like crazy and couldn't stand to be away from him but were silently thankful he'd been gone so long for other reasons.

"Hey baby," He pulled you closer on your shared queen-sized bed. The clothes you were wearing were his and thankfully so because hiding your progress was the only way you could keep going.

"What do you want me to order for dinner tonight? I don't want to fret you to cook for me, and besides, I need a little cheat day." Kou groaned at the thought of eating healthy prepped meals, like had been for the weeks he was gone to keep his energy up.

Bokuto had missed you like crazy; he was head over heels for you too. After all, he's the one who asked you out in the first place.

After seeing you that day, in all your glory, you were absolutely beautiful to him. He wasn't sure why he was drawn to you, but he knew that he needed to talk with you and well, that ended up with you both dating, so he didn't mind the outcome.

His eyes were focused on his phone, scrolling through the numerous food restaurants in the area for the both of you to choose from. His hair was damp from the shower he just took, as well as comfy lounge clothes to lay around in.

When he originally came back, something about you was off. He couldn't pinpoint it just yet, he was waiting for you to give a hint, a slip up, something so he could connect with you emotionally.

Koutarou knew he was emotionally helpful and in tune with himself, which was something he only became better at since high school.

The TV played a few loud noises in the background, something to distract your mind from the thoughts of food.

Your mouth watered; your stomach demanded something other than diet coke and a few measly low-cal snacks that boost your energy when you needed to do something. Like needing the energy to entertain Bokuto since he was finally home.

You wanted to hold off on telling Bokuto anything, you knew he'd want you to be healthy and not severely and deathly thin.

But in your mind, that was the definition of pretty, you'd do anything to be good enough for him and being deathly skinny is what everyone on twitter was telling you to do.

You cringed away from his touch a bit, disguising it as just moving around to get comfortable. You didn't want him to know, you feared he would take the only thing that's brought you some security since he's been gone.

"Hm? Oh, I'm not really hungry. I ate a huge breakfast this morning." You lie through your teeth, it sounded believable sure, but Kou was better than that.

He wasn't going to take that bait just yet.

"Oh yeah? That's good baby, what'd you eat? I bet it was something so delicious, like your French toast. Oh, God! I've been craving that so much." Bokuto knew what he was doing, he wasn't dumb, just emotionally smart enough to do something like this to make you admit what was wrong.

Of course he's seen the way you look. Your face was a bit slimmer, you moved less, the dishes looked untouched in the cabinet the same way they were when he left.

If his suspensions were right, this may have gone on longer than he presumed, which kind of stung.

How could you keep something like this away from him? Did you not trust him enough to confide in him and ask for help? You brought him back to the present by answering his question.

"I went out this morning for breakfast when I took a walk." You nonchalantly said, not wanting this conversation to continue any further.

You wanted to say that you needed to take a bath, but he's already seen every part of that dead body you don't bear anymore.

You felt trapped to say the least.

You watched as Bokuto silently turned off the TV and turned towards you with all seriousness. That wasn't a face you saw on a daily basis, you feared what he would say next.

"How long have you been dealing with this eating disorder?" His words made you freeze, your instinct was to lie again. But was it really okay to lie to your boyfriend like this?

"I..I don't know what you're talking about. I told you I went out to eat this morning, Kou." You delude, averting your eyes to stare at the decor you both put on the walls of this shared apartment.

He wraps his hands around your hoodie covered arms and turns you to look at him in the eyes. His own searched yours for the answer, for the why. The smallest bit of anger he possessed when he realized what you were doing was long, long gone by now.

He possessed worry, anxiety, and fear for your health.

"Please, baby, please talk to me about this. I'm not mad, I promise. I'm—I'm just very concerned about you right now." He pleads with you, you can't stand to see that look in his eyes either, those beautiful eyes you fell in love with.

You know you're causing him worry, probably pain too from the way you've lied to him.

You turned away and blew out a sigh, "A while, it's not a big deal. It's... I'm fine. I'm managing it, so—you don't have to worry about it."

"Not a big deal? Not a big deal, Y/n? You've been hurting yourself for whoever knows how long and lied about it. Do you even know what you're doing to yourself? Why? What happened to have made you resort to something as harmful as this?"

"Please... just-just talk with me?" Koutarou implored emotionally, he was trying so hard not to shed tears right now. This was about you, not how you were making him feel. And he'd be damned if he guilt-tripped you like that.

Your eyes welled up with tears you didn't think you were capable of. Starving yourself never made you feel regretful of what you were doing, only carefree that you wouldn't have to be the so-called 'pig' social media referred to you as.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I just-I needed," You took a deep breath in before trying to continue.

"I just didn't want to hurt you by doing this to myself. I just wanted to be pretty for you." You cried, allowing yourself to actually feel bad and seeing what you were doing in another light. It was horrible, you felt horrible.

"Hey, hey..." He pulled you close, taking your frame into his. He could feel you now, the sheer size of you was smaller now, not too much but noticeably so since he was able to pick you up when you were not starved.

He rocked you back and forth as you cried, mumbling out apologies and small reasons why you did it. Bokuto would get to that later, but for now he needed to comfort you and make sure you both were on the same page of helping you get to recovering.

"I'm always here for you, through thick and thin. Sickness and health." He paused, "I know those are wedding vows, but they work too." He half smiled at you, trying to make you brighten just a bit.

Over the course of the night, it only got worse for you, feeling wise, and better for Koutarou so he could help you get on the path you needed to be.

The words he would always chant had replaced the negativity that encased your thoughts for almost a month.

'I'm always here for you'

They were such simple and kind words that it made you almost tear up every single time too.

Needless to say, recovery was hard. Very fucking hard. You had leaned on Bokuto as your pillar when you pushed yourself to get better and focus on your health instead of anything else.

The nights you wanted to revert back into your unhealthy lifestyle were numerous, but your pillar was always one step ahead to finding a healthy meal and a good path to walk on together after dinner.

Koutarou was exceedingly furious when he had asked for you to tell him what the reason was that you did this to yourself.

The why.

And he wasn’t prepared for you to pull out your phone and open twitter, the app you would usually go to when the hunger pains got too much.

He scrolled through your feed, seeing nothing but rudeness towards you, ridiculing you, tearing your person down when you have not even done anything.

He was so enraged that he sent out a public message without speaking to his publicist first, noting in his head that he needed to check with them about these comments of his girlfriend he’s been with since forever, and figure out how long they knew.

The public message was a threat that he wouldn’t stand for the impropriety any longer, if he heard even the littlest thing, he would personally have them held accountable and sue for hate crimes.

You were absolutely in awe watching him defend you from the merciless people that ridiculed you for something that was so physical and meaningless if you’re healthy.

It made you not want to ever be in the spotlight again but you knew that Bokuto being there was your light that he’d welcome you to hide in.

He kissed you on your forehead and snuggled into you, soothing you after he sent the public message. “It’s fixed, baby. You don’t have to worry about that ever again, I got you.”

You felt grateful for him, without your Kou you wouldn't know what to do. So, since then you both have found an abundant number of recipes that include everything you may need to help keep you full and feeling happy.

"Ready for our walk, baby?" Kou asked you, whilst you zipped up your matching jumpsuits, he had personally ordered for the both of you. He wanted to make your recovery a positive experience and help you out the best he could.

"You bet." You paused, keeping the loving eye contact the both of you held. "Thank you, I mean it. You're so big-hearted and considerate." You admitted, elated that you found someone who would go through hell with you.

"Of course, baby," He leaned down to kiss your temple, "Anything for you." 

a/n: another comfort piece because why not? requests are open (PLEASEEEE) haha, i hope you enjoyed & use bokuto as a pillar to help yourself get better if you need <3

[gojos-thot-patrol]

HII!!! and happy birthday to you ♡♡ i love ur works sm, for ur special birthday event, could i request — ryomen sukuna, mean, " i love you, and you don't deserve that " ?? AGAIN, HAPPY BIRTHDAY AND HAVE THE BEST YEAR!! (｡>﹏<｡) feel free to change it up! you're the birthday author afterall<3

AHH these are late, but in my defense I got very drunk then had to work off the hang over lol.

that being said, thank you so much Nonny!! This is so sweet and I feel kinda bad because this one got pretty dark. Trigger warnings for Domestic abuse, non con/dub con implied, emotional abuse and manipulation, and yandere themes. you have been warned, Dead Dove, Do Not Eat.

Now Presenting...

Starring: An cold complicated Ryomen Sukuna, taking it out on a Reader that doesn't deserve it.

There were few things on this earth Sukuna found more vile than humans. Maggots, maybe, but at least maggots served a purpose- they were important to the nutrient cycling of many ecosystems. But what the fuck did human do? They destroyed with reckless abandon, conquered without a second thought, and bread like roaches to continue the destruction long after they were gone. They were creatures of hate. And maybe that’s why Sukuna couldn’t stand them. They were just a little too much like him.

That was all with one exception. Y/n was a human that challenged every thought he had about humans. She was kind and generous, but still not afraid to get her hands dirty for what she believed. She proved that much when she ran out to stop him from destroying some elders home of all fucking things. He didn’t know what was funnier, that she thought she could challenge him, with her meek frame and zero battle experience, or the look on her face when he threw her over his shoulder. 

He had planned to throw her to his hoard of underling curses and let them tear her limb from limb. A fitting punishment he thought, she wasn’t really worth his effort. When he got to the throne room, he looked down at the writhing mass of curses below the tall platform his throne sat upon. He watched them all move as one, entangled together in a breathing wet sea of shit and hunger. They needed to eat.

And then he looked at her. The way she clung to his arm, the genuine terror in her eyes. She didn’t look like she had before on the battlefield, so willing to give her life to save another. Now she looked as if her entire being was made of ice and terror, as if she’d shatter if the breeze blew the wrong way. He felt a tightness in his chest, like some otherworldly being was pulling the sinew that laid there apart, cord by cord. And he threw her into his sleeping quarters instead. 

And ever since that day all those months ago, Sukuna had been complicated. A fucking human complicated him, it was almost comical. He caught himself being vulnerable around her, and he coludn’t fucking stand it. For every quiet sweet moment they had, he had to double down with two or more acts of brutality to make himself feel better. Except, it never made him feel any fucking better, in fact it made him feel actively fucking worse. The betrayal and hurt behind your eyes always made him feel minuscule, and it only made his hate of you burn even brighter. 

It was moments like these that made his skin crawl. When your head was resting on his chest, arms wrapped around your body as best as they could be, legs still trembling in the aftermath of your shared sin. When he realized his heart was calm, and his claws didn’t crave blood in your presence. His reaction to comfort was always visceral anger. 

“Get off of me wench.” He growled, jerking his shoulder up and launching you out of your near sleep state. You looked so hurt.

“Oh, this again?” You muttered.

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean, Whore?” Sukuna scoffed, unable to believe you felt comfortable enough to talk to him with such a tongue.

“Nothing.” You sighed, shaking your head and trying to turn away from him. You didn’t get very far before his talons were digging into your shoulder, forcing you to face him again.

“No no, If you’re going to say something, say it. Don’t try to take the cowardly way out now.” He warned. You shook your head, knowing better than to make eye contact right now.

“I just don’t want to fight-”

“Oh, you think this is a fight?” He laughed, “that would almost be cute if it wasn’t so pathetic.We don't fight Y/n. You forget your place, and I remind you of it. Fighting implies you to be my equal, which you never will be.” he said, his voice dripping in condescension and laced with contempt. His poison shot straight into your heart, coursing through your blood and to your tongue. You were so tired of his bull shit. 

“Oh, really?! Is that what happens?!” You laughed back to keep from crying, “Because from my view, You realize you have a heart and get so scared of it, you have to hurt someone smaller than you to feel like a man aga-!” Yea, you weren’t shocked when he struck you. You held your face, knowing there would be a bruise you could take fingerprints off of forming. You’d long since become used to his treatment. He grabbed you by your hair, yanking you to look at him. You could feel individual follicles being pulled from their roots as he raised you off the bed, as he drank in your scream as if it was the finest of wine. 

“Listen here Brat,” Ryomen always had a way of making even the most mundane words cut into your soul, “You’d do well to remember who the fuck you are talking to when you speak to me. I am not your friend, I am not your lover, you are fucking nothing to me. You’re less than nothing to me. Wrong me a-fucking-gain and your villiage won’t stop finding pieces of your body.” He snarled, throwing you off the bed. 

You braced for impact, but that still didn’t stop the collision from sending sharp waves of anguish through your already bruised ribs. You took in a sharp breath and tried to keep the tears swelling in your eyes from spilling over. He wanted you to cry. You wouldn't give him that satisfaction. You got to your hands and knees as quickly as your body would let you, then sat up as best as you could.

“Do you know what your problem is Sukuna?” You mumbled from the floor. He raised an eyebrow at you, genuinely shocked you had more to say after that. Normally, physical violence shut you up pretty quick. 

“And what is that Y/n?” He asked. You took an edge breath in.

“Your problem is that you don’t want to keep being a warlord. You’re tired of it, it bores you, you want to do something else. You found something that only makes that feeling stronger. And you can’t stand it! Because you don’t know who you are. You have no idea who Ryomen Sukuna is without the power and the blood thirst, and that fucking terrifies you.” Sukuna didn’t even argue, and he wasn’t surprised you read him so clearly. You had always seen through him as if he was nothing more than a fragile bubble. 

“And do you know what my problem is?” You growled. You waited all of 3 seconds before responding to his silence, “My problem is that I love you. And you don’t deserve that.” A chuckle left Sukuna, but it was humorless. His eyes didn’t hold any anger or angst, he looked as if he was made of stone. He finally got up from the bed, and moved to you. He crouched down to be at your level. 

“Things are only going to get worse for you from here on out. I hope you're prepared.” he said, zero emotion making its way to his voice or eyes. He pushed you onto your back before standing up again and leaving the room. Once he was back in his own sleeping quarters, he punched a hole in his wall.

How fucking dare you tell him you loved him! Who the fuck did you think you were?! And why the fuck would you confess that after he threw you to the fucking ground? As if you were nothing more than a used cum rag! He roared as he ripped some random piece of art off the wall and smashed it against the floor, splintering the wooden frame. Your words kept echoing in his head, phantoms that wouldn’t let him rest. I love you, and you don’t deserve it.It made him sick. Because he didn’t deserve it. And because he loved you too, and you truly didn’t deserve that.

[bedoballoons]

Hii!! (First time I request on ur blog) Are ur requests open? If yes, could I pretty please with cherry on top get a yandere Aether, Xiao, Venti and Cyno x reader who is on hunger strike? (Bacically refuses to eat untill they get freed). Ty for reading my request!

Hello again! Requests currently are closed, but I got this when they were open! I hope you're doing well! Thank you for coming to my blog and I hope you enjoy <3

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂

{༻~Let me go~༺}

CW: Yandere themes! Reader is trapped and character will not let them escape! Reader refuses to eat! Obsessive behaviour from the characters! Dark topics! Slightly suggestive as well..

(Includes: Xiao, Venti, Aether, and Cyno!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Xiao:

"Please...just eat it."

Xiao pulled the plate closer to you, sliding it across the floor till it was right next to your hand...you'd gotten so weak from lack of nutrients and now here he was, kneeling in front of you as you slumped against the wall...trying desperately to keep up with your threat. "I won't. I won't till you set me free. I don't care if I end up starving to death...I want my freedom."

He'd lean in closer, his hair tickling your cheek as his lips pressed against your ear, breath warm against your skin "I'll find a way to keep that from happening...you're my everything and I won't loose you. I won't."

𑁍༄Venti:

"Won't you just taste it, just for me?" Venti batted his eyes at you, snuggling up into your touch while he held out some freshly made desserts... tempting you to break your hunger strike and indulge a little. He only wanted the best for his favourite person, the only being that mattered to him anymore...

"No Venti. I want my freedom. Just let me go and maybe I won't tell anyone about this please just-"

"Awe hush now~" He touched his finger to your soft lips and the hairs on your neck stood straight up...his dazzling eyes had a crazy look in them...like he almost wanted you to escape...just so he could find you all over again, "I won't let you die...you know I'm technically the embodiment of freedom...take me~"

𑁍༄Aether:

"Just a nibble.." Aether held the fork out for you, hoping that the delicious smell of your favourite food would entice you into eating, but you would brush his hand aside, refusing every time, "I already told you...I won't. I want you to let me go. You're a kidnapper Aether! I'm not just going to sit around and snack when I could be free..."

"I could let you go..."

Your eyes widened in shock, heart skipping with hope...maybe your strike was working, "You could...I'd appreciate it."

"I could...but it wouldn't last. I need you....I'd find you eventually and the cycle would start all over again...I can't be without you."

𑁍༄Cyno:

"I'll get you anything you want, tell me and whatever you're craving is yours." Cyno pulled you close to him, noticing how you no longer pushed him away because you'd gotten that malnourished....it broke his heart. Why couldn't you understand, all he wanted was to keep you to himself...make sure no one touched the most wonderful beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his entire life.

He wasn't bad...he just...was a little to good.

"No. No. Nothing you get me will make me eat. Nothing you do will make me want to be free less."

"If only you understood, I am not a kidnapper...I would let you free, but everyone else is a potential threat. You're mine...and I cannot say that what I'd do, if someone tried to touch you...would be seen as justified."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[flickering-nightfall]

Hey, I was just wondering, how would the iterators' puppets leave their cans if they discovered a way? I'm asking because I wanted to maybe have the iterators' puppet leave their can sometimes.

Love your art.

Thank you!

I think that depends on how you interpret the iterators. Some people see them as mostly or totally contained within their puppet, while others see them as the entire superstructure. Rain World has a lot of inconsistencies and a lot is open to interpretation. So either way could work.

If you see the iterators as their puppets, there's a lot of options. A couple of them are:

You can straight up sever their umbilical (wires and arm). But then you have to make sure they don't die in the same cycle. How physically suited are your puppets to walking? How dangerous are their surroundings? Do they need to eat and drink, and if they do, how do they do it? How dependent on their neurons are they, if they need them at all? What are the short term and long term consequences of the severance? Is the severance permanent?

You can make the puppet detachable. Pop 'em right off like a lego piece. The rest of the superstructure could run passively while they're gone. That'd probably work better for you if you just wanted to them to leave the can sometimes.

I see iterators as their entire superstructures, which makes the puppet problem a bit harder. You could:

Make a mobile or detachable puppet with a wireless connection (this could also apply to "iterator-is-puppet" but in the opposite direction). The range is up to you. Could be limited to short range or made longer range through... communication arrays, I guess? Could be pretty funny if the signal gets cut too. Five Pebbles loses connection and ragdolls mid-conversation.

Somehow stuff a being that is several cubic miles large into its finger puppet (what I did, but it comes with several drawbacks, and most of them didn't have a choice)

That last one might be more or less believable depending how much you say the iterator's consciousness is dependent on its superstructure. Can they be contained within the puppet? Human brains are three pounds of flesh. Can you cram a whole superstructure's worth of processing in there? No, but if our personalities can be contained within that, an iterator's probably could too.

So what are the costs? An iterator in a puppet is still a walking calculator person, but it isn't a god anymore, you know? What kind of sacrifices do they have to make? Imperfect and limited memory, vulnerable body, nutrient requirements, slower processing, loss of their powers, dissonance of moving between vastly different bodies… lots of stuff to play with!

[cherrysha]

Craving

Pairing: Vampire!Phinks x Reader

A/N: this was supposed to be short but it kinda got out of hand...also wanna thank True Blood for the whole 'vampire blood as an aphrodisiac' thing.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning: Blood, Death, Allusions to Sex, (Phinks could be seen as yandere in this piece)

Hunger. Its the first thing he notices when he opens his eyes. All consuming, bubbling and burning away at his stomach to the point he feels sick. It’d only been a few days since Phinks ate, although the meal itself was more of a snack. He hadn't had the luxury of gorging himself, seeing as he was on the road and there were very few people passing by at that hour in the night.

He had resigned himself to emptying the veins of someone in a nearby village; although they were poor and Phink’s meal reflected that. Instead of the nutrient dense blood he was accustomed to, this man’s had the viscosity of water and left Phinks barely satiated.

At the moment, he wanted to roll over and satisfy his empty stomach with you. It was the easiest option, and he knew your blood to be of high quality; ensured it even, but the last time he fed from you, without slaking his overwhelming emptiness on someone else first, was all too fresh in his mind. Your hollowed eyes and exhausted body had shaken him to his core. Even now he can see your gaunt face flicker through his mind in warning.

Slowly, Phinks rose from the bed, whisper quiet as all of his kind were, before leaving your little cottage just as quietly.

The walk into the city would’ve taken a normal man hours. For Phinks it was barely long enough to reorient himself. The moon shone brightly on the weathered path, casting shadow in the ditches that wagon wheels had left in the dried earth. It had to be close to midnight, although the passage of time seemed torturously fast to him, he’d gotten acquainted with telling it through the cycles of the moon. Phinks had one more week with you before he had to report back to the troupe. He loathed leaving you, the easiest solution being to take you with him, but the idea of any other of his kind looking upon you, drinking from you, was abhorrent to him. No, bringing you with him opened up the possibility that he’d be forced to share; An idea he wasn’t keen on.

The routine of finding his first meal was easy enough. The streets were packed on warm summer nights such as this. People eager to partake in festivities that hadn’t enticed him for nearly a century. There were brothels, bars, and other unscrupulous places to choose from; but Phinks preferred to choose from the nearly empty buildings in the city. 

A rich apartment complex had been built in the heart of town, over the sea of shantytowns that had, at one point, choked off the streets. Now, all that stood were regal, gilded buildings. The residents weren’t his target, no, they’d draw too much suspicion. He craved a filling meal and knew the guards would be all too easy. They were paid enough to be loyal, and that in turn meant they were fed well. He’d just have to set the scene.

Phinks enters the bar a little ways down the street from his targets as he does all things; with an air of smug arrogance that he’s been unable to shake since before he was undead. He fits in with the crowd, so much so that he’s not even questioned as he asks for an entire bottle of whiskey. As long as he’s got the coin to spare it doesn’t seem that the bartender cares. All to Phinks’ benefit. He empties half the bottle on the cobbled streets before returning to his hunt. He’d only need about half of it anyway, and knew better than to drink the swill himself. 

No, the last time he’d tried drinking alcohol he’d vomited so much that Shalnark still mocked him for it. He hadn’t been a heavy drinker before turning, but he’d wanted a touch of normalcy. Food and drink tasted like ash in his throat, yet sweets and alcohol were the worst offenders. The memory makes Phinks grimace, quickening his steps as he heads down the road.

It takes mere moments before two guards are cornered in a dimly lit alley and Phinks snaps both of their necks. He didn’t want to cause any injuries that would spill his dinner onto the dirty cobblestone. He was too smart for that. Instead, he drank his fill before snatching one of their pistols. He aimed, pointing at one guard’s chest and the other’s head before firing. The whiskey was easily dumped into their open mouths and he used the rest to douse them. The bottle clinked against the ground as he admired his work. A late night brawl between the two would draw less attention than finding them dead with their veins sucked dry. The last thing he wanted was a monster hunter on his trail. Phinks quickly emptied their pockets before leaving. You could use the money. Buy yourself something good to eat that, he too, could enjoy.

By the time the moon hung bright in the sky, he’d drank enough to calm his stomach, although his mind was still racing. With his new meal came euphoria, the feeling accompanying the quenching of his hunger. It was during this time that his thoughts inevitably returned back to you. 

He knew running full speed back to you was a waste of energy, but he did so anyway. The night was too perfect, the sky too peaceful to want to be anywhere but by your side. 

He judged by the moon that he must make it back in record time. Maybe a quarter past one if he had to guess. It’d be around this time that you’d start to fidget in your sleep, maybe even wake yourself up in preparation to fulfill his needs. You did so every night, and although he spurned you by ignoring your requests to feed, tonight he’d indulge. 

—

“It’s time.” Phinks calls to you, his curt tone belying a hint of annoyance that he didn’t truly feel. Unbeknownst to you he’d spent far too long just taking in your peaceful form, intent on studying the rise and fall of your chest that felt completely foreign to him at his age. Was there a time when he breathed like that? Out of sheer necessity instead of just having the instinctual urge from time to time? Phinks had copied your movements, breathing in sync with you as you dozed under the clear sky. He found that he enjoyed it, if not just for his senses being assaulted by your smell. He’d even leaned in closer to the juncture of your neck, had breathed in deeply and relished in the scent of blood pulsing just beneath your skin. The smell was exquisite, but what made his mouth water was how he was engulfed in a scent that was undeniably you.

You stir, groaning as you try to sit up, to gather yourself and answer his call. You knew him well enough now that ignoring him and continuing to sleep was not the best idea. Slowly, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before obediently waiting.

“We’re going outside.”

“Why?”

“So many fucking questions. Can’t you just do as you’re told for once?” His answer was sharp, as it always was, but lucky for him you’d just nodded. Gathering yourself before standing.

The night air was crisp, yet still comfortable. You’d even brought a blanket to shield yourself from the dew on the grass. Phinks grimaced at the thing. In truth, he was angered that he hadn’t thought of it, but yet he found the thin fabric to be an annoyance.

He’d made you come outside multiple times, enjoyed the way the moonlight danced along your skin, but to you, he’d always said feeding under the moon was less claustrophobic when he deigned to answer.

You sit, legs folded underneath you as you angle yourself to peer up at Phinks. He, in all restraint, moves slowly to sit in front of you, legs wide and inviting as he reaches for something at his belt.

The knife glints in the light, sharp and dangerous, and you felt your stomach roiling.

“We, we don’t have to do that tonight, Phinks.” 

“But don’t I?” He growled, “You always cry if I don’t” there was a stunning truth to his words, a truth that had you nodding along in acquiescence as he pressed the blade to his open palm.

The sharp pinch was nothing to him; a slight irritant in an otherwise perfect night. An annoyance he was willing to bear for your comfort, although he’d never admit to it.

With no words spoken, you kneeled on the ground before him, letting the warmth of his blood slip past your lips and down your throat with moan. It tasted good, fresh. The tang of it reminding you of ripe fruit, of summer and sweetness that belied the stoic expression of the man in front of you. Phinks resisted the moan that was building in his chest at the sensation of your full lips wrapped around him, drinking him in so greedily it caused hunger to stir in his stomach once more. Your desire was his own, magnified and heightened by the blood slipping down your jaw and onto your neck, pooling on the white fabric of your nightgown. Phinks smiles at the sight of you tainted by him. As you should be.

“So fuckin’ messy.” He tuts, his free hand wrapping around your jaw as he pulls you into his lap. It’s quick, as all of his movements are, but he slows down as he licks a stripe up your neck, cleaning you with his tongue before covering your mouth with his own.

It doesn’t take long before he’s prying you away from him, ignoring the whimpers that echo through the cool night air. You land on your back, legs immediately splaying open in invitation. Phinks takes a moment to consider you, soft hair and even softer eyes as you stare at him pleadingly. So well trained. He doesn’t have to cajole you to open up, to accept what he’s offering you, what he’s taking. In part, he knows it to be the effect of his blood, but on nights like this it was easy to fool himself into thinking the searing affection he had for you was reciprocal in nature. 

Phinks kisses his way up, following the veins marking the path to his next meal, his lips press behind your leg before stopping at the apex of your thighs. He finds that he quite likes breathing, likes the smell of you in his lungs, just as he likes the taste of you in his mouth. He remembers the first time he’d done this. Taken from your pliant body by force. No, his blood wasn’t necessary anymore but it made these shared moments all the more sweet. When he bites down its with enough force to make your legs shut on instinct, to rip a whimper from your lips. Phinks knows its not painful in your current state, can see the proof of your arousal glistening in the moonlight. 

He indulges. Lets his mind wander on thoughts of you as he drinks you deep. Hopes he can engorge himself on the very essence of you. He craves it, an itch in the back of his mind that won’t go away; to consume, to be consumed, until neither you nor him can be separated. He fills his lungs with your scent, ears attuned to the soft whimper of your voice, mouth latched onto your femoral artery and he thinks that this could be enough. 

The air around you shivers with the whine that leaves your mouth once he finishes. Over the past year you’d learned to find pleasure in the pain, learned to crave the feeling even. His mouth leaving your bloodied skin was a denial of that pleasure, the hollow ache in your chest incomparable to the mark he’d left on your skin. 

Again, Phinks reprimands you for being so greedy, for wanting even when he was willing to give. But right now his prize was staring back at him; lust blown pupils trained on his every move as he slinked his way back up your body.

He tastes himself on your tongue. To him, its a bitter tang compared to the sweetness of your blood, but he enjoys it all the same. Enjoys swallowing your moans, sounds made solely for his ears and his alone. He wonders in times like this if you ever regret letting him through the threshold of your tiny home. Allowing him entry when you were too clueless to know you’d dragged home a half dead, and malnourished, vampire.

He smirks at the memory of it. Of your fear, your helplessness as he pinned you down and nearly drank you dry. The only reason he’d stopped was the severity of his injuries. At the time, he had planned to use you as one does a cow for milk. Letting you rest until you’d regained enough blood to nurse him back to health. He’d hadn’t fallen asleep more than twenty minutes before a stake was driven through his chest, high enough that it wasn’t lethal, but deep enough to betray your courage, and he’d fallen for you just as easily as the stake had been pulled out.

Now you were a supplicant at his altar, open and inviting as the pink stain of your feast on his blood betrayed you. As your actions betrayed you. You were his, in every way that mattered, your spirit was intertwined with his own.

“Please Phinks. I need you.” Your pupils are dilated, breath heaving as you beg for him. For all of him.

His tone is dry, an honest smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he replies, “Of course you do.”

[ocean-sunfish-hater]

Hi,

I saw your post about barrel bugs and I wanted to ask if you know more interesting marine parasites?

(Personally I think that dendrogasters are quite cool)

Dendrogasters are pretty cool! I don't know much about them but they look really... odd.

ID: a picture of Dendrogaster showing its unsual body plan, with its branching structures that end in spherical growths. It is light yellow to orange in colour. It is set against a black background and part of a ruler can be seen.

There's a whole host (haha) of interesting marine parasites, and I won't go through all of them now but here's a few that you might like.

Rhizocephala are a parasitic group of barnacles that live on crabs. They have no internal organs except gonads, a few muscles and the remnants of a nervous system. In fact, their only distinguishable bodyy structure is the female reproductive organs, which sit outside of its host's body. Here's a really cool drawing of the filaments which it sends out into its host's body to absorb nutrients directly from their blood:

ID: a black and white drawing of a crab infected with the parasite Rhizocephala. It shows the underside of the crab with the externa (female gonads) visible and a network of filaments that the parasite has grown throughout the host body.

I'm sure you've heard of tongue lice, so I won't labour the point too much, but spark notes is that they attach to the gill arches or tongue of a fish, then cut off the circulation to the tongue so that it withers off. It then replaces the fish's tongue.

ID: an image of a tongue eating louse inside a fish's mouth. The louse is pale, almost white in colour and has two black eyes. The fish is like :O

Finally, this isn't a marine parasite but you'll see why I include it in a second, but the tongue worms (not to be confused with the tongue eating louse). They are actually terrestrial and mostly infect the respiratory tracts of vertebrates (sometimes, though very rarely, us). What I find interesting is that they have no circulatory, excretory or respiratory organs and rely soley on the host to do all these things. Isn't that cool?

ID: a drawing of a tongue worm (Pentastomida). It has a segmented body that ends in a point. At the other end there are 4 stubby limb-like structures.

If you're still reading , you might be wondering why I picked these ones and why the tongue worm is awkwardly shoved in there? Because @chowaniec I have tricked you; this is not a post about marine parasites, it's a post about the diversity of crustaceans. THAT'S RIGHT, ALL OF THESE ANIMALS, WITH THEIR WEIRD LIFE CYCLES AND UNCRUSTACEANY BODIES ARE COUSINS OF CRABS AND SHRIMP AND LOBSTERS. AND THAT INCLUDES YOUR ORIGINAL SUBMISSION OF DENDROGASTER, WHICH IS WHAT GAVE ME THIS IDEA IN THE FIRST PLACE.

All of these lil guys just have highly specialised bodies that have lost many of the features we associate with crustaceans so that they can be better parasites. It's really only though careful analysis of their lifecycles and genetics that we can even determine them to be crustaceans at all.

I wanted to showcase the immense diversity of crustaceans and the weird and wonderful flexiblity of evolution. I also wanted to show you why morphological criteria for classification fall short, even beyond the "coconuts are mammals" meme.

Thanks for the submission, and thanks for being patient with me! I know this one took a little while longer to receive but I hope it was worth it.

[episims]

Judith All the witches we've tracked down can't be clueless. That council of theirs must be damn terrifying to keep them from talking...

*sigh* Maybe I should look again into medicine. Pharmaceutical companies always try to keep their long scope hidden. There must be someone researching plantsims, somewhere.

Hanna "I must report a problem: this property lacks a composter. Throwing leaves into trash wastes nutrients. Breaks the cycle! The leaves should turn into soil and the soil should nourish the trees so that they can produce more leaves."

Judith "A composter can be arranged. Say... do you know anything about plantsim physiology?"

Hanna "Know? I acquire knowledge by learning. Just like you! But unlike you, I have pre-saved entries. Given knowledge for faster learning? To build more knowledge upon! There's an entry about plantsims. Do you want me to recite it?"

Judith "Yes, please."

Hanna "Plantsims: supernatural lifeforms that sustain themselves through photosynthesis, converting sunlight into energy and absorbing water through their skin, eliminating the need to eat or sleep. While they possess a digestive system, it's considered partly vestigial. Their bodies resemble regular humans but with green-tinted skin, which may lose its saturation due to a lack of sunlight, water, or in times of significant stress. Like other known supernatural lifeforms, plantsims can reproduce regardless of their partner’s sex, though cases of vegetative reproduction have been also reported – that's it!"

Judith "Nothing about the life expectancy?"

Hanna "Not mentioned. The entry is likely outdated; it hasn't been modified since I was initialized. I haven't learned anything more about plantsim physiology either. I would like to!"

Judith "Mmh. Thank you, Hanna."

[six-swords]

ok first of all i need to commend your commitment to the inhuman biology, especially when it comes to Steb. i feel like people usually go all out when making monster dicks, so reading about a ribbed, egg producing vagina really scratched an strange itch for me. i didn't know i needed to read about someone eating caviar out of a pussy 10/10

the main thing me and my friend talked about was why Steb would have such a large spawn. with regular fish, the need for a large clutch is, in part, to make up for potential predators coming in and eating the babies. Steb and others of his race are humanoids, they don't have to worry about hunters targeting their kids for food, so why does Steb still produce so many eggs? We agreed on the idea that the chances of even one of the eggs getting fertilized is very low, so they likely evolved to produce a large spawn to increase the amount that make it out. idk if you chose a 6 month cycle because of something from actual fish, but i imagine the cycle is that long because it takes that long for the body to reset and then go through the process of making that many eggs. (side note, how late do the eggs start producing in Steb's cycle? Would it be more similar to the luteal phase, ovulatory phase, or a secret third option? Does birth control exist in the Arcane universe? IM GETTING OFF TRACK)

the other thing we discussed was why Steb's eggs were so small. now, we imagined that the eggs were around the size of orbeez, but please let me know if there was something in the actual fic about the size that we missed. what we were wondering was how is the embryo able to reach the size of an average humanoid baby? On one hand, there is the possibility that any fertilized egg could be placed back through whatever Steb's equivalent of a cervix would so that it could develop more like a typical mammals (in this scenario, i suppose the ejection of eggs would be done in order to appraise which ones look most likely to develop). On the other hand, perhaps fishfolk eggs are raised in shallow pools of water, not unlike my understanding of how Zora work in Legend of Zelda. i would imagine with the second option that the embryo either receives nutrients by absorbing them through the water (thus creating a need for the parent to refresh the water while the baby grows) OR the infant hatches when it is super small and spends the first few months in the pool receiving food orally. in the latter choice, the baby might go through a cycle similar to that of a tadpole, starting off very fish like and slowly growing it's more human traits later on.

with how complex this fictional birthing mechanic is, i don't think it'd be very possible for Scar to actually fertilize one of Steb's eggs. maybe there's a fantasy fertility clinic that could take one of Steb's eggs and Scar's sperm to somehow reverse engineer a baby for the two of them? there are a lot of different races in Arcane, so i wouldn't be TOO surprised if some endocrinologist figured it out in all those years.

sorry this is so long. i hope this doesnt sound too insane to you, haha. we really enjoyed your fics!

I love the caviar references /genuine because it's all I could think about when I was writing the first installment of the series LOL. I'm happy that you enjoyed the freaky fish genitalia because yeah, I definitely have been seeing the posts about people wanting more monster pussies to match the monster cock energy, and I wanted to deliver haha. Plus, I just thought it'd be kind of boring if he had a regular vulva, so I wanted it to be externally and internally interesting hence the anal fins and the internal ribbing, etc., so thank you for commenting on it!

more under the cut, lol

And omg, yeah, I had the same thought process about the amount of eggs he produces being really random. I was thinking it was a vestigial trait. I based his reproductive cycle off fish with internal fertilization, so technically, if he was with someone of his own species, they would fertilize the eggs while they're still inside him, and then he'd expel the fertilized eggs. I imagine the chance of fertilization would be higher with internal versus external fertilization, but maybe not? I also didn't make it super clear it's always internal fertilization when he is having reproductively viable sex, so your explanation tracks logically with external fertilization, or maybe even with internal fertilization if his species just has really low rates of fertilization. Anything is possible! Either way, I love hearing the theories.

The six month cycle was not at all from real fish, haha, but yes, the length was to allow his body to reset and also, more frequent spawns felt like they'd be too inconvenient. I'm not too sure at which stage the eggs start producing, but his body starts producing them a couple hours to a day before he needs to expel them, so the window for potential fertilization is oddly short. It's probably an unrealistic timeline. I just didn't want him to have to walk around bloated for days or weeks. Maybe since he has six months to recuperate, the fast egg production reads as a little more feasible :thinking_emoji:

You're spot on with the egg size! I didn't even consider implanting the fertilized eggs back into the womb. That's a really cool concept. It's definitely interesting to consider which mammalian characteristics Steb's species has if any. I've been writing him as warm-blooded, so that's one thing. But to get back to the eggs, while I was writing, I was envisioning something like your second idea where the fertilized eggs are ideally placed in a special pool, tub, or pond. The embryos develop inside the eggs for a bit before they hatch into fish-like infants, and just like you said, they begin to develop humanoid characteristics later on in their maturing process. I imagine they'd look like regular fish for a year or more. If there's already in-universe lore about this and I'm super wrong, lol oops.

I also agree that I don't think Steb and Scar are reproductively viable, and I like your idea about fantasy fertility clinics. I didn't see a lot of furry-like humanoids that look like a combination between multiple animals in the show, so I'd imagine if they do exist, it'd be inaccessible to the average person. And god, I hope birth control exists in their universe. But if it does, I once again think it's not readily available, or Steb would definitely be using it.

And trust, this is the perfect amount of insane! I wrote that unhinged fic, so I'm very honored to inspire other unhinged thoughts and conversations. Thank you so much for sharing your ideas and for reading the fic! <3

[bustybounty]

You saved her from the crashed spaceship in your cornfield, the cut, shortstack, blue, hairy alien girl. She has become indebted to you and promises to take care of you for the rest of your life. She does chores around the house, waters the crops and most importantly feeds you. Her milk contains all the nutrients you need to thrive. The aphrodisiac inside make you horny beyond belief. She offers her body to you. Her anatomy is very similar to humans, so you know exactly what to do. Her belly quickly grows with your offspring and her milk becomes richer, granting you more stamina and vitality, almost as if prepping you for what is to come next. A week later she gives birth to an exact copy of herself, with engorged breasts and thicker bushes of hair. She offers her milk to you aswell. Her milk grants you a second pair of genitalia. Unable to contain your lust, you take both of them at once, while they make out with eachother. You see them growing again, becoming curvier, with silky soft hair sprouting in the best of places. Like natural fertility goddesses, they both give birth to another exact replica, who both offer you their bountiful cream. All four of them thank you for bringing their species back from near extinction and take their rightful place, impaled on your 4 hard as steel rods, and the cycle repeats endlessly.

(This feels like another one of those prompts where the asker clearly has talent and I feel like you should definitely write your own short stories, you absolutely have potential! You've basically written the entire thing yourself just there! I can only continue it to its logical conclusion, as you've defined everything very well, from backstory to the action that takes place initially, later on, the consequences...)

Saving an alien fertility goddess must have been the luckiest day of my life. Every day she makes it worth it, from drinking her milk, to helping breed her to save her population from going extinct. I imagine a horde of 'her' as every time she gives birth, she produces exact copies of herself, almost like she underwent some full body mitosis of some kind. It's like they're a near hive mind too, they all seem inclined to thank me, even if I only saved their mother, or grandmother, or whatever generation we are in now.

Her planet used to have trillions of other blue shortstack, hyper reproductive women like herself, it was such a densely populated planet that it was shocking to see there was only one survivor left after all that happened, or at least the only one I could find.

Their milk must have magical, alien effects on my body that allow me to control my own sexual organs much more efficiently than I would otherwise, as handling dozens, then hundreds of different cocks, having to multitask so much I end up being a one person orgy, one person breeding machine that pumps endless amounts of cum and clones into the new mothers, always striving to give them back what they had, even if it ended up making me even more freakishly huge and giving me even more endowments. With them all being clones of her, none of them actually share my DNA, as it seems that they used to reproduce by having a semen like fluid be inserted into their womb, activating it and allowing it to, through immense amounts of energy, produce a clone of themselves. My cum, there was just so much of it, and it was so rich that it easily cleared that energy cost, making every pregnancy quicker and more efficient the more I grew.

By the time I end up with a trillion cocks though, I feel like there's no point in stopping there... Their population levels went from nearly 0 to a top, record level due to my breeding sessions. I still make sure to breed the girl I saved first and foremost whenever I fuck them, which is pretty much all the time now...

Even if they're all clones of that girl, I still feel a stronger attachment to her, and one day, I'll make sure to shove all trillion of my dicks inside her womb, to give her the biggest, most pleasurable orgasm ever, literally, bloating her to ungodly proportions worthy of a proper fertility goddess. <3

[unhingedoveractivemuse]

Title: "I've got you."

Pairing: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Tags: Established Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Soft Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

Notes: Flufftober Extra "I've got you."

========================================

The thing about Evan “Buck” Buckley is that he’s tactile. Anyone could tell you that. The more the omega likes someone, the more inclined he is to touch them in some way or form. A hand on the shoulder, fingers brushing when handing over something, a squeeze on the forearm. 

And when he’s in love?

Eddie is lucky enough to find out. 

Hand-holding is the least of it. It’s kisses, soft caresses, hugs, cuddles, nuzzles, grooming, etc. 

And they aren’t even mated yet. He can’t imagine the omega being less tactile when they’ve been bonded in all ways. 

Especially if this is the height of Buck’s need to touch people. 

His and his alpha’s chosen is entirely pressed against him, unyielding arms wrapped around Eddie and nuzzling into his neck where a mating bite will go.

It’s too early for that, though, with Buck only being in preheat. This is a time for comfort and preparation for the days ahead.

Fortunately for him, he had had the foresight to start preparing the day he and Buck decided that a year of courting and dating was enough and that they would mate during Buck’s next cycle. Normally, he probably wouldn't have started preparing so early, but the pandemic changed everything. 

Without a pandemic at their doorsteps, he would have gotten Buck to move in with him already and they would be mating at home. He would have left Christopher on an extended sleepover with the Wilsons, and he would have made one shopping trip without having to worry about finding everything he needed. 

Alas, that wasn't the case, so he had been very careful about making sure the shirts he was providing for Buck's nest were never in contact with dirty clothes. He had to go on several shopping trips (because curse the shortage of everything right now) to stock up on dry food and water. It had taken him until the last minute to find and buy a mini fridge. He also made sure to air out Hen and Chim's scent from the loft starting a week ago because they'd been living here for weeks, making the scent harder to get out. 

(Granted, it was because of the pandemic that they decided to take the next step in their relationship. They're seeing too much death to not consider how much time they're wasting. It doesn't mean Eddie is thankful for it though. Not. At. All.)

Regardless of whether the world is in chaos right now or not, though, he wasn't prepared for this. 

“Love, I've got to bring some more food up,” he coaxes, hoping the koala in disguise will let go long enough for him to make sure they won't starve to death later. He had some food up here already, but there were some grapes and Gatorade he had placed in the big fridge that morning that he hadn't brought up yet. 

Buck whines, a sad little noise that almost has Eddie relenting. 

Almost. 

“Buck,” he tries again. 

He can feel the reluctance exuding off his mate-to-be when the arms unlatch, leaving Eddie free to get up. 

“I'll be right back.”

Eddie makes haste, quickly going downstairs and grabbing everything he needs before hauling it all upstairs, not wanting to leave Buck waiting long. 

He shoves the grapes and Gatorade into the mini fridge where some cold, protein-and-nutrient-packed rolls are already in, courtesy of Bobby. Then, he turns to the bed and nest where Buck is looking at him miserably from. 

“Hey,” he says gently, running a hand through blonde curls.”I was only gone for a minute.”

“I know. I'm sorry. I know I'm a lot.”

Eddie hushes him. “You’re not. I want nothing less than everything, okay?” Then an idea comes to mind. “How about you shift?”

Buck looks at him a little dubiously.

“Only for your preheat. It'll feel better.”

Sighing, Buck gets up just enough to shimmy out of his sweats and boxers, and Eddie only has a moment to appreciate the sight before his skin becomes fur. 

And what a sight it is to see Buck shift despite the year and a half it's been since he's first seen it, especially now that Buck has someone to groom him.

He remembers the first time he saw Buck's wolf. It was beautiful, of course, but it was still showing years of neglect, the lonely years on the road not helping with the sheen and softness of the fur.

Now? It's stunning, the well-loved, healthy, tan fur practically glowing, and Eddie knows that it feels like running his hand through water with how soft it is. 

Beautiful. Every part of Buck is beautiful. 

Buck whines, snapping Eddie out of the trance he gets into whenever he sees Buck shift. The wolf's entire body is pressed into the nest, ears down, looking at him desperately. 

“I've got you,” he says, understanding, pressing a kiss onto the top of the fluffy head before taking off his clothes and shifting into his brown wolf. 

His senses automatically sharpen, trying to take in everything around him, but all that matters right now is Buck, so he jumps back into the nest and does his best to curl around the other. 

Buck responds happily, licking the underside of his jaw and pushing his snout there. In return Eddie licks his face, smothering it in kisses before slowing down to meticulously groom his mate-to-be, drawing out a content rumble from the omega. 

And here, with this amazing omega pressed against him and nuzzling him at every possible moment, he's confident in saying he chose this. Sure, it might have been his wolf that claimed Buck first despite never doing so with Shannon, but now this gorgeous man is Eddie's choice too. 

I love you, he thinks, nudging Buck's head with his own, rubbing their faces together. 

He doesn't need words to know the quiet, short howl is Buck saying the same.

[piosplayhouse]

I just wrote my botany final and there was barely anything on parasitic plants on there so congrats, because of that last post you're the dumping ground of all my useless studying.

The organ the parasitic plant uses to penetrate the host is called the haustorium (pl. haustoria). This can be developed from root tissue, or from stem tissue. For hemiparasitic plants, they can do some of their own photosynthesis and so they're still green. For holoparasitic plants, they are incapable of doing photosynthesis and therefore are not green. (QJP LBH wearing green vs Post-Abyss wearing red and black -eyes emoji sorry I'm on my laptop-)

Many holoparasitic plants also live entirely within the host plant for their entire life cycles, taking photosynthates and nutrients from the host and only emerging to breed. A fairly well known genus, rafflesia, literally only ever exist as a small infection thread, infect their host lianas (similar to a vine), and then slowly store nutrients in a corm (modified stem structure that stores nutrients, garlic is a corm also), and when they have enough they put out the world's largest flowers that also smell like death so they can get flies to pollinate them and spread their seeds.

One species, Osyris compressa, doesn't need to parasitize, it can do its entire lifecycle by itself, but during hard times it can and will start parasitizing other plants through their roots. However, it is also bad at this, and sometimes gets parasitized right back.

The Hydnora africanus lives its entire life inside the roots of its host and only comes aboveground to put out flowers, like the rafflesia. Unlike the rafflesia it makes little fruits underground that reportedly taste like potatoes. This is how its seeds get spread around

Anyways, sorry about that

NOT USELESS TO ME THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT INFORMATION THANK YOU FOR SHARING!!! I <3 PLANTS

[mixotrophics]

forcing ecology to conform to human squeamishness -- a source of continuing harm

image source - SCOTLAND: the big picture

rewilding -- you may have heard of it. Letting native species (or similar enough ones) do their thing. Bringing back locally-extinct species. letting life, Live but part of nature is also death. Decay. Rot. Blood, gore. Fungus. Maggots. Death breaks apart the Body and lets its nutrients, borrowed during life, re-enter the cycles and nourish more life.

I've heard of a term, I think it was re-dead-ing, but cannot find the post... I do see, now, Death Gives Life , referring to the same thing.

we (broadly) are disgusted by the presence of death. 'Dead stock' -- dead animals, dead plants, so on -- are often removed from the scenery in places like the UK(1). This is often done in the name of disease control, with the idea that dead bodies in nature cause disease(1) even though the work of scavengers & decomposers clear up the germs(2) , -- main concern is, if the animal was very sick before it dies, its carcass may carry that disease. But that is not a corpse problem, that is an animal health problem, which lays in problems like artificially high & concentrated populations (e.g. deer, chronic wasting disease). Just keep them away from waterways and livestock, probably(3).

The carcass(of tree and animal alike) is a node of concentrated nutrients. When left in place, those nutrients return from the ecology from which they came. When the carcass is taken away, those nutrients are gone elsewhere(3). And now, detached from the life that has mechanisms to eat-rot(2), we humans have to do something with it. Like with manure, compartmentalizing these "wastes" away from growing life turns them into a problem(4).

Fallen trees & rotting meat are the homes for so many species, sometimes species only raising their young at particular stages or specializing to particular parts -- fur, bones, meat, bark(2). disallowing the dead & rotting from resting where they lay where we can see&smell them, is disallowing these species to find a place to live.

image source - ARK Rewilding Netherlands

& it's not just bugs. Think vultures, Think scavenger-mammals(2) ; Not only these, but predators fill up on already-dead meat, allowing endangered prey like the capercaillie to nest successfully(3).

and "cleaning up" this "ugly thing" that is the dead may deprive animals of their chance to mourn(1). Not all animals do -- many don't care much, many eat their own babies -- but some do and they should be given that chance.

...

greenwashed environmentalism thrives on the beauty of nature, operating in very narrow definitions of beauty and what is correct ... mud, rot, death, disease, bugs, stench, shit, these are all fundamental aspects of the inbuilt reciprocity+interconnectedness of being alive, and things we reject at the peril of so much.

image source - How death gives life

to all dead things: we, the living, love you, and thank you for giving back to the natural community at the end of your time with us. If only such ideas were not so opposed in the current era.

...

1 ) King, S. How death gives life. Rewilding Britain, 2023. 2 ) Beekers, B.; Meertens, H.; Reiniers, K.; Helmer, W.; Colijn, E.; Krawczynski, R.; and Meissner, R.; trans. Righart, A.; and Allen, D. Circle of life: A new way to support Europe's scavengers. Rewilding Europe & ARK Nature, 2017. 3 ) Ferraro, K. M.; and Hirst, C. Missing carcasses, lost nutrients: Quantifying nutrient losses from deer culling practices in Scotland. Ecological Solutions and Evidence 5(3), 2024. 4 ) Moore Lappé, F.; and Collins, J. World Hunger: 10 Myths. 2015.