#Pregnant!OC

[braveclementine]

Chapter 17

Warnings: 18+ readers only, smut, sir kink

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

I blinked my eyes open, seeing both Harry and Hermione leaning over me. "You alright?" Hermione asked fretfully. 

"Ow, yeah." I mumbled, slowly pushing myself into a sitting position. "Where are we?" 

"Safe place. C'mon, let's get into the tent." Harry said, helping me up. I gently placed a hand on my stomach, feeling little kicks. They were unhappy with me, but at least I knew they were both alive and well. 

"So," Ron started immediately, showing that I had missed a bit of their conversation, "that Peverell bloke who's buried in Godric's Hollow, you don't know anything about him, then?" 

"No, I looked him up after I saw the mark on his grave; if he'd been anyone famous or done anything important, I'm sure he'd be in one of our books. The only place I've managed to find the name 'Peverell' is Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. I borrowed it from Kreacher. It lists the pure-blood families that are now extinct in the male line. Apparently the Peverells were one of the earliest families to vanish." 

"Extinct in the male line?" Ron asked. 

"It means the name's died out. . . centuries ago, in the case of the Peverells. They could still have descendants, though, they'd just be called something different." 

"Marvolo Gaunt!" Harry suddenly shouted. 

"What?" I asked. 

"Sorry?" Ron and Hermione asked together. 

"Marvolo Gaunt! You-Know-Who's grandfather! In the pensieve! With Dumbledore! Marvolo Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverells!" 

I had forgotten about that and was impressed that Harry had. 

"The ring, the ring that became the Horcrux, Marvolo Gaunt said it had the Peverell coat of arms on it! I saw him waving it in the bloke from the Ministry's face, he nearly shoved it up his nose!" 

"the Peverell coat of arms? Could you see what it looked like?" Hermione asked sharply. 

"Not really. There was something fancy on there, as far as I could see; maybe a few scratches. I only ever saw it really close up after it had been cracked open." 

"Blimey. . . you reckon it was this sign again? the sign of the Hallows?" Ron asked. 

"Why not? Marvolo Gaunt was an ignorant old git who lived like a pig, all he cared about was his ancestry. If that ring had been passed down through generations, he might not have know what it really was. There were no books in that house, and trust me, he wasn't the type to read fairy tales to his kids. He'd have loved to think the scratches on the stone were a coat of arms, because as far as he was concerned, having pure blood made you practically royal." 

"Yes. . . and that's all very interesting, but Harry, if you're thinking what I think you're think-" 

"Well, why not? Why not? It was a stone wasn't it? What if it was the Resurrection stone?" Harry asked. 

"Blimey-  but would it still work if Dumbledore broke-" Ron gasped. 

"Work? Work?" Hermiones' voice was going up in octaves, making little pricks against my brain and I closed my eyes, laying on the cot. "Ron, it never worked! There's no such thing as a Resurrection Stone! Harry, you're trying to fit everything into the Hallows story-" 

"Fit everything in? Hermione, it fits of its own accord! I know the sign of the Deathly Hallows was on that stone! Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverell's!" 

"A minute ago you told us you never saw the mark on the stone properly!" 

"Where d'you reckon the ring is now? What did Dumbledore do with it after he broke it open?" Ron asked frantically. 

Harry didn't answer however. He was looking off into the distance, a faint look of concentration on his face. His black hair had fallen into his green eyes, boring holes into the tent wall. 

"Harry?" Hermione asked after a few seconds. 

Suddenly, Harry let out a dramatic gasp. "Dumbledore had my Cloak the night my parents died!" 

I felt that twinge of sadness, whenever he called our parents 'his' or 'my'. I knew it was not his fault, I knew it was what he believed. And I knew that was my fault, because I had made sure it was that way. 

His voice was shaking as he continued, "My mum told Sirius that Dumbledore borrowed the cloak! This is why! He wanted to examine it, because he thought it was the third Hallow! Ignotus Peverell is buried in Godric's Hollow. . .He's my ancestor! I'm descended from the third brother! It all makes sense!"

"Harry." Hermione tried again. 

"Read it," Harry pushed a piece of parchment in Hermiones' hand. "Read it! Dumbledore had the Cloak, Hermione! Why else would he want it? He didn't need a Cloak, he could perform a Disillusionment Charm so powerful that he made himself completely invisible without one!" 

"That's true." I murmured, frowning a little. I hadn't even thought of that. 

I heard something clink, rolling on the ground and then Harry shouted so loud I winced, "IT'S IN HERE! He left me the ring- it's in the snitch!" 

"You- you reckon?" Ron asked. 

Harry looked between me, Ron, and Hermione. Ron looked taken aback and Hermione was obviously unbelieving. I hoped I mostly just looked like I was in pain, fingers pressed against my head like that would get rid of the headache. 

"That's what he's after." Harry whispered. "You-Know-Who's after the Elder Wand." 

I sat up, motioning to Hermione that I wanted the letter. Hermione handed it over without a word. 

I unfolded the letter, taking in a deep breath as I saw Lily Potters' handwriting. 

Dear Padfoot,      Thank you, thank you, for Harry's birthday present! It was his favorite by far. One year old and already zooming along on a toy broomstick, he looked so pleased with himself, I'm enclosing a picture so you can see. You know it only  rises about two feet off the ground, but he nearly killed the cat and he smashed a horrible vase Petunia sent me for  Christmas (no complaints there). Of course, James though it was so funny, says he's going to be a great Quidditch player, but we've had to pack away all the ornaments and make sure we don't take our eyes off him when he gets going.      Lizzy just absolutely loves the Muggle dolls. I don't think  she's stopped playing with them ever since she got them. She's so serious about making sure they're wearing appropriate attire before bed and she doesn't dress herself until they're dressed in day clothes. It's adorable. I would enclose a picture, but you know she's camera shy.       We had a very quiet birthday tea, just us and old Bathilda, who has always been sweet to us, and who dotes on  Harry and Lizzy. We were so sorry you couldn't come, but the Order's got to come first, and they're not old enough to know it's their birthday anyway! James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell- also,  Dumbledore's still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much. Wormy was here last weekend, I though he  seemed down, but that was probably the news about the  McKinnons; I cried all evening when I heard.      Bathilda drops in most days, she's a fascinating old thing with the most amazing stories about Dumbledore, I'm not  sure he'd be pleased if he knew! I don't know how much to believe, actually, because it seems incredible that Dumbledore

The letter cut off, but I wasn't focused on that, especially since I knew how it finished. I had found the scrap of letter and half a picture in Severus' top drawer months ago. Despite me being camera shy, it was clear a picture had been snuck with me holding my mother's hand, a doll in my other hand. I knew it had originally connected to a photo of Harry riding along on a broom, our father diving after him, just a pair of legs. 

The part I was focused on were the small tidbits about me. Muggle dolls. I had gotten muggle dolls and I liked to dress them, even at a year old. I knew which clothes should've gone on them and I dressed them like they were my children. 

It took all of my willpower not to cry, especially knowing Hermione  was looking at me, seeing as Harry was still lost in thought. 

"I don't suppose you know what the last bit is supposed to say?" Hermione asked quietly. 

"Oh." I looked up and said after a moment. "'because it seems incredible that Dumbledore could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald. I think her mind's going, personally! Lots of love, Lily.'" 

"You know," Hermione said quieter, "There's something that doesn't quite make sense." 

"What?" I asked. 

"Harry said he did have a sister, but that Barty Crouch Jr. said she died in April. But if she's celebrating her birthday in July. . . how could she have died in April?" Her eyes were holding mine and I just knew that she knew. 

"Maybe she's still out there. Maybe she doesn't want people to know who she is." I answered. "Maybe she wants to reveal herself at the right time." I went silent and then said, "Or maybe she doesn't know who she is." 

"This is it." Harry suddenly said, not having paid attention to a word we had said. Ron looked away from us slowly. Hermione and I stared at each other for a moment longer and I shook my head an inch. "This explains everything. The Deathly Hallows are real, and I've got one- maybe two- and You-Know-Who's chasing the third, but he doesn't realize. . . he just thinks it's a powerful wand-" 

"Harry, I'm sorry, but I think you've got this wrong, all wrong." 

"But don't you see? It all fits-" 

"No, it doesn't. It doesn't, Harry, you're just getting carried away. Please, please just answer me this: If the Deathly Hallows really existed, and Dumbledore knew about them, knew that the person who possessed all three of them would be master of Death- Harry, why wouldn't he have told you? Why?" 

"But you said it, Hermione! You've got to find out about them for yourself! It's a Quest!" 

Hermione was going to hate herself for that one later probably. "But I only said that to try and persuade you to come to the Lovegoods'! I didn't really believe it!" 

"Dumbledore usually let me find out stuff for myself. He let me try my strength, take risks. This feels like the kind of thing he'd do." 

"Harry, this isn't a game, this isn't practice! This is the real thing, and Dumbledore left you very clear instructions: Find and destroy the Horcruxes! That symbol doesn't mean anything, forget the Deathly Hallows, we can't afford to get sidetracked- You don't believe in this, do you?" 

I glanced up, finally handing the letter over to Harry. 

"I dunno. . . I mean. . . bits of it sort of fit together," Ron said very awkwardly, looking like he wanted to placate both of them. "But when you look at the whole thing. . . I think we're supposed to get rid of Horcruxes, Harry. That's what Dumbledore told us to do. Maybe. . . maybe we should forget about this Hallows business." 

"Thank you Ron, I'll take first watch." Hermione said, walking off. 

Harry looked at me. "What about you?" 

"I don't know Harry." I said softly, standing. "I know that's a rare answer from me but, I just don't know. I'd listen to Ron." I pulled him into a hug, letting out a sigh. "I'll see you later, I need to get back." 

"Back to Snape?" Harry asked, a dangerous note in his voice. 

"Back to my son." I said, my voice equally dangerous now. I squeezed his arm and stepped out of the tent without another word. I smiled at Hermione but made it clear I wasn't staying for a word, moving far away into the forest before closing my eyes and apparating. 

I turned into my normal black cat form, padding through Hogsmeade before making my way up to the castle once more. Severus was laying on the bed with Remus, fast asleep until the door opened, his wand pointed at me until he saw who it was. 

"You know you shouldn't relax so easily." I teased, taking my cloak off, laying it on the back of the chair, locking the door behind me. I sauntered over to the bed, climbing up awkwardly onto the piece of furniture, straddling Severus' lap. "What if I was a Death Eater." 

"What if I was a Death Eater?" Severus asked lowly, nose skimming my neck. 

"You are a Death Eater." I giggled, before pressing my lips to his. "I'm all yours sir. How do you want me to serve?" I was desperate to lose myself in him after the rough afternoon and the near miss with Hermione discovering I was his sister. Well, knowing, I suppose. 

"Hmm, tempting." Severus rolled over, pinning me underneath him. "However, our son is in bed with us so I think we need to behave." 

I kissed him again and then wiggled upwards. "That's not fun at all." 

"You're a terrible influence." Severus groaned, before rolling out of bed to pick up Remus and lay him down in his crib, tapping it with his wand so that Remus could not hear certain noises that would be going on in the room. Severus crawled back up on the bed, hovering over me, before kissing down my neck. "Now then, I believe you said you were going to serve me?" 

"Yes Sir." I replied coyly, letting my hands wander south on him, until they were undoing the buttons on his pants. He rolled off of me, landing on his back as I helped him lose his trousers and boxers. "You look delicious sir." 

"You're such a tease." Severus moaned through gritted teeth as I licked up the underside of his shaft. His hand grabbed me by the hair, pulling me towards him. I went with it till I was straddling him, his cock rubbing against my folds. 

Our breathing grew heavy as I sank down on him, riding him slowly, his hands moving to my hips, helping me ride him. 

"Merlin, you feel amazing." Severus moaned out, fingers digging softly into my hips. 

"My name is Elizabeth." I teased lightly, rolling so that we were both on our sides as we made love now. I captured his lips with mine, nipping at his bottom lip. 

"My apologies." Severus teased and then gritted his teeth as he moaned lowly again. "Cum, Elizabeth." 

It was instantaneous as I released, feeling him release inside of me at the same time. I sighed in content, relaxing into his arms. 

We laid there for a moment before Severus slowly started to kiss my skin. Then he lightly murmured, "I'll go run the bath." 

I hummed as he got up off the bed, watching him disappear butt naked into the bathroom, before he came back out to get me. I padded out to the bathroom, my legs shaking only a little bit and he helped me into the bath. 

We took turns washing each other, soaking in the hot water until it cooled, before heading back out to bed. Severus climbed into bed, helping me up onto the raised furniture, before pulling me against him, cuddling me as the both of us drifted off to sleep. 

⬅️➡️

[misstycloud]

Yandere arranged fiancé x reader

You’re the sole daughter of the famous (l/n) family; big corporations, monopolisation and seemingly endless wealth are all words associated with your family. You have lived well your entire life and will for the rest of it, too. You have never been denied of anything, whether it be new clothes, makeup or whatever new hobby had caught your interest at the moment- except for the chance to take over the business after your father.

Unfortunately, despite how loving your family could be, they still held on to old traditions and ideas. One of which was that the large portion of the inheritance should go to the son. No matter how hard you try or how much you plead, you will never inherit the companies.

Your family doesn’t understand. They believe you should be content with your position- of course you know you’re incredibly privileged, but you hoped do be able to contribute to something instead of just sitting around forever. It made things meaningless. Did you only exist to become someone’s wife?

You barely remembered the first time you met him. You were around seven and he was ten. Despite your foggy recollection of what you two did that day, you did recall the expression on his face; emptiness and indifference. It was the day before that you heard the word fiancé for the first time. You didn’t know what it really meant, but thanks to your parents guidance, you understood it meant you two are going to be together for the rest of your lives.

Your parents had a couple whom they’ve been close friends for a long time, and it just so happened they had a son a little over your age. They were rich, just like you. So why not marry you two when you got older?

The first impression you had of him was of the oddnes he carried with him. He never smiled, never cried and barely spoke. He only lest he’d you with that blank look on his face. At least he played with you. Well, it depends on if it could be called playing, considering it was you dragging him around and demanding he humour you. Looking back at it, you feel bad for him having to endure the torture of a child’s endless energy. However, he didn’t complain at all and kept passing the ball after you continued sending it his way.

Whatever ‘I’m happy so I’m gonna make you happy with my happiness’- magic you had in your youth did eventually rub off on him. The change was evident in more ways in one. He started smiling- albeit they were small- and even gave the occasional chuckle. After that you became friends for real and it wasn’t forced as it’d felt in the beginning. This positive shift served as a strong motivator for both your parents’ willingness to have you wed. You supposed you would be rather devastated as well if your one and only child had come out with the emotional constipation your fiancé had, so you understood their encouragement. They treated you like some miracle cure.

You were content with your life and arrangement for years. That was until you got older and began actually thinking about your situation in detail. Your ambitions and needs also grew and you found yourself wishing to work to make your family greater; to put down the sweat and blood your ancestors had to give you the life you had now. But it was simply a dream, one that wouldn’t come true. You would never forget the confused- almost mocking-disbelief your mother and father showed you when you asked to inherit the company.

“Sweetie, why’d you ever be interested in such things?” Your mother asked. “Simply relax and enjoy the life you have now- the life your husband will continue to provide for you.”

You looked towards your father, hoping he would support you in any shape or form but he nodded in agreement with your mother.

“She’s right, dear.”

He was never a man of many words, however you a single sentence you knew the topic was done with.

While you had no doubt they loved you, they certainly didn’t understand you either. They couldn’t fathom why you weren’t content with your life and didn’t wish for your partner to take care of everything.

You spiraled afterwards. You could have everything and nothing at once. It was a strange feeling and it left you feeling angry. And that anger had to be directed at something: your fiancé. You began thinking he was the source of your misfortune. Because of him you would lose your freedom and have to live by his restrictions and rules for the rest of your life. Once you turn (y/o) you’ll have to marry him no matter your opinion. You would solely be his.

There was still time before your wedding and you’d be damned if you couldn’t live how you wanted until then. In an attempt of rebellion you moved out of your family’s estate and into an apartment of your own. (They agreed because they thought you desired to spend some alone time with your fiancé without them being near) You also stopped responding to his calls; he’d been calling every week to get updates on how things were going. You simply put your phone on silent mode whenever his name popped up. After the fifth time of calling, you blocked his number in great annoyance. Why couldn’t he just leave you be? You’re not ten anymore, you don’t have to talk every second of the day, ugh.

After a couple weeks with your new living conditions, another thought hit you. If you were going to be tied down to one man forever, why not meet as many as you can right now? And so you started going out more, inviting your friends to go clubbing and perhaps find someone interesting. More weeks followed, with a new guy in your apartment every month. Some stayed for the night only, while some preferred to stay a little longer. However, they all left as quickly as they’d come when you’d mention your engagement. Either they didn’t want to get tangled up in some lovers drama or they’d cuss you out for being a cheater. Were you one? Whatever, you thought, it doesn’t count if you don’t love each other- which you didn’t.

But one day, completely unforeseen by you, he swung by your new apartment. He’d been worried about you. Almost three months had gone by without a single word from you. He believed you might’ve gotten in an accident. Suddenly, you felt ashamed. It was strange, you hadn’t felt anything like it earlier. But now you did. You realised that your sweet, innocent fiancé wasn’t the root of your problems. You need to stop directing your anger at the wrong person. You explained everything, about how you felt and why you ignored him for so long.

You profusely apologised to him a million times when he found out about the others you’d been spending time with. You would never forget the look on his face that day when he found out. It was cold- colder than you’d ever seen him. Of course, he was like that to most, but never to you. In the end, he chose to forgive you. He told you that he understood and that it was fine; you weren’t wed yet and it was natural that you wanted to explore. You swore that you’d stop and make it up to him, while he said it wasn’t necessary, you hadn’t actually done anything wrong. You also swore that you’d be loyal to him and that you’d never do anything behind his back when you’re legally married. Thankfully, he appeared to believe you.

However, you wished you could’ve foreseen what would happen next. Nowhere in your mind, did you think you’d find yourself in your luxurious bathroom, staring at the two red lines of a pregnancy test. Eapecially when your fiancé didn’t have a part in it.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

[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. 

——

[evielmostdefinitely]

please something about pregnant capitol!reader. maybe she's pregnant and coriolanus is over OVER protective?

watchful eye |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, pregnant!captitol!reader and protective!coryo.

contains: reader is pregnant. alludes to dom/sub themes. some talk of violence. protective/possessive coriolanus. mainly fluff.

“Are you alright?” Coriolanus' eyes scanned the room, a predatory gaze that commanded the room. His hand found the small of your back, a soothing rub over the material of your dress, pressing into the spot on your spine that was always aching lately. 

“Yes.” You nodded, giving a forced smile in case others were watching. Your hand smoothed over the swell of your abdomen, prominent now. 

You were surprised Coriolanus let you out into the public now that you were showing. He’d been so careful with the news, so cautious that others might find out and want to harm you. You supposed that's why he’d commanded more Peacekeepers to the Districts, curfews and whippings and hanging multiplied to anyone even seen with a rebel- to drive them out, make an example of them, scare the others. All to keep you safe, or so he told you. 

With the next games coming up, you were at the annual party hosted before the Reaping tomorrow, full of Capitol socialites all fluttering with excitement at your news. Still, a haunting aura hung in the air, like they were all scared- perhaps it was because of the way Mrs. Bezel was drugged away to Dr. Gaul’s torment chamber for touching your rounded belly. Coriolanus hadn’t even batted an eye before the Peacekeepers were yanking the elderly woman away mercilessly, dragging her through the crowds of terror-ridden onlookers. 

“If you need to take a seat-” Coryo started, waving over an Avox with a sharp flick of his wrist. 

“-I’m alright, darling.” You hummed gently, placing a calming hand over his. 

“You need to rest.” Coriolanus’ eyes narrowed lightly, the same stern look he always gave you with your defiance, one that told you to obey. 

You hated the way it made you throb, you’d blame it on the hormones again. “I’m alright.” You smile sweetly. “I’m afraid if I sit, I’ll never get up again.” You tease lightly, a real, honest grin spreading across your face. It made Coryo’s heart skip. 

“Are you tired, then?” Coryo asked, hand pressing into your back again, fingers rubbing the knot gently there. Your spine had curved, figure caved to accommodate such growth- the habitat of your unborn child. 

“Only a little.” You admitted, looking down at your swollen stomach. “I can last, Coryo. I will be alright-” 

“-Nonsense.” Coryo shook his head, waving over the lead of his staff. “Make the announcement and ensure everyone leaves.” He commanded, his hand still on you. “And we will see you tomorrow for the Reaping.” A chilling tone to his words that had you shivering, taking his hand gently. 

“You didn’t need to do that.” You hummed, slipping out the side door with him, down the hallway towards your own private living quarters. Your heels clicking against the marble of the floor, half steps to keep up with Coriolanus’ own stride. “I would have been fine.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Coriolanus rolled his eyes lightly. “You looked miserable.” 

You frowned. “I did not.” 

He snorted lightly, looking over at you, lips curled in a half smile. “Petal, you were restless tonight. Don’t think I didn’t see you slip your shoes off under the table.” 

You pouted, a waddle of a walk beside him, still clutching his hand. “They hurt.” You huff, looking down at your heels, swollen ankles aching from the wear of the beastly things. 

“I know.” Coriolanus smirked triumphantly. “I told you to let me know if it got too much for you. I’d have you escorted back.” 

“I didn’t want to go back.” You huffed, a swing of emotions Coriolanus was still struggling with understanding. “You’ve kept me under lock and key for months, Coryo. I wanted to be out, see other people, and socialize.” 

Coryo nodded, choosing not to chastise you. Not now, not with how your tone clipped, a warning that the floodgates of your angry, hormonal tears were not far behind. Instead, he turned the key to your wing, pushing the grand doors open, a hand ushering you in. 

Inside, he helped you out of your dress, moved your heels back into place when you kicked them off. You giggled at how he tickled down your spine, unfastening the hooks of your dress, a soft kiss to your shoulder that had you swooning. 

You lay on the bed, feet in Coryo’s lap, his thumb digging into the heel of your foot, smug at the way it had you sighing with relief, melting into the mattress. He told you the plans for the games, how he and Gaul had worked even harder to make them better than last year, the changes and added sponsors. 

“I’m sure they’ll be wonderful, my love.” You muttered, eyes drooping with a heavy tug of your lids. He was lulling you to sleep, not that it was much of a challenge, you’d nearly exhausted yourself tonight. 

“Do you want me to draw you a bath?” Coriolanus asked, scanning your relaxed features. “Would that help with your back?” 

“No,” You shook your head, eyes fluttering open. “I’m fine.” 

Coryo frowned. “If your spine hurts, you should let me-” 

“-Coryo,” You cooed, eyes soft when they opened and met him. “I’m alright. I’m comfortable, just… just keep doing what you’re doing, please. It feels great.” You sighed, wiggling your foot back into his grasp, an accidental brush over his crotch that had him flushing. 

If you weren’t so tired, he would have fucked you into that mattress. You were so sensitive with the pregnancy, insatiable nearly. He hadn’t expected to be so attracted, that his desire grew with every new swell and rounding of your features, yet he found himself buried in your cunt every chance he could. 

Coryo had already taken you before the party, the glow in your features waved off as from the pregnancy instead of the way he’d ravished you before. He supposed that could have aided in some of the reasons you were so tired. 

“Tell me more about your plans.” You muttered, rolling your head into the pillow to look at him over the hill of your belly, your foot in his hand. “Who are the mentors for the Districts this year? Anyone we’d know?” 

Coriolanus’ heart swelled, boasting with pride. It was why he loved you so, the interest you showed him in his work, in his passions. His thumb circled around a knot in your heel, grinning at how you squirmed, answering your question sweetly.

[ydteus]

Marcellus and Csilla Gautier - ball outfits

[abysmalwizard]

Today's mpreg is: in for quite the surprise

much less sfw version of my last post

[ultrainfinitepit]

Moon Cycle 2 - a redraw of this piece.

[ninthcircleofprythian]

Dinner and Dessert

Azriel x Pregnant! OC (Mira)

Word Count - 3.6k

Summary - as his mate's due date approaches, Az can't handle the sight of her pregnant body in a sundress without going a bit feral.

Warnings - light swearing, pregnancy, descriptions of pregnant body, breeding k!ink (if you squint), tons of sexual tension, explicit sex described (oral f recieving, fingering f recieveing, p in v)

Author's Note - This fic was written for being the clear winner of this poll. Also, a special dedication to my fellow monkey brain @chairofchaos for being with me every step of the way as I wrote this and for being so very strong and not allowing me to spoil it as it came together. Enjoy pookie. 😘

“We really should have planned this out better you know,” Mira’s voice echoed through the entryway as she descended the stairs. The shadows made a swirling lap around her body as she landed on the last step, Azriel gliding from the living room doorway to meet her. 

“Planned what out better, my love?”

“Being this pregnant in the middle of summer,” she sighed. “Nothing fits anymore and I’m constantly hot. I swear I’m carrying a tiny furnace in here at this point.” Mira’s hands slid over the large swell of her belly, tucking the drape of her dress under it as she cradled the weight from below.

Azriel’s eyes tracked the movement, flaring with heat when her hands found their resting place. The roundness of her belly on full display in the flowing fabric.

“That dress,” his voice rumbled, eyes lingering along her frame as his wings gave a slight tremble.

“Like I said, nothing fits anymore,” his mate twisted her lips in a pout. “The options are limited.” Releasing the hold on her stomach, Mira brought her hands up to the neckline, tugging it back to a more conservative height.

In a flash, Az’s hand stilled hers as he stepped closer, chest pressing against her exposed shoulder as he stood at her side. With his other hand, he replaced the hold she had along the bottom of that beautiful mound. The thin summer weight fabric allowed her to feel every ridge along his palm as it slid into place and she shivered in his hold from the sensation.

“I’m not complaining,” Az whispered as he bent to nuzzle along that dangerously low neckline. “But if you aren’t comfortable, you could always take it off.” With a tilt of his head, he peeked up from her cleavage that was threatening to spill out with a darkened stare.

“Azriel, stop,” she giggled with a push against his shoulder. “We’re going to be late.”

“It’s fine,” came his mumbled reply from between her generous breasts. “Let’s be late.” One of his hands now slipped to the small of her back, the curvature deepened with the weight she now carried. A low groan sounded from his chest.

Az had always loved his mate’s body. Every soft spot and curve and blemish. But something about the last months, watching everything about it change and grow with his child growing inside her, made him insatiable. The dress she was now wearing with the hem dancing along her feet and the waistline settling on the top of that bump, was the final straw. He was done for. 

Just as he began to bend at the knee to scoop her into his arms, she shoved against him once more. “Azriel, seriously. Stop,” she laughed. “This is probably the last family dinner I’ll be able to go to for a while. I want to go. I don’t want to be late.”

“Ok,” he sulked momentarily. “You’re right. To dinner we shall go then.” He gestured widely with his arm towards the door in a mocking tease. “But you know we could spare some time if you would just let me winnow us there.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I would prefer not to lose my appetite before dinner, thank you.” Ever since the pregnancy had neared its end, she couldn’t stomach winnowing any longer. The short step through the dark felt like more of a lurch and left her heaving afterwards and Az was entirely too nervous to fly with her in this state. “Besides, it's nice out - even if it is hot.”

“Fine. But we aren’t staying for dessert.” With a devilish grin, Azriel stooped to kiss his mate’s pouty lips. The hand along her back swept lower and with a start he pulled back, staring into her eyes with a look of shock.

“What?” she questioned with a furrowed brow.

“Mira, my love, are you –,” his hand explored a handful of her backside. “Are you not wearing any underwear?”

“Oh. Yeah,” she started as she made her way towards the door with a smug smile. “Those don’t fit anymore either.”

She let out another giggle as Azriel grumbled behind her, scrubbing one large hand down his face. “You’re fucking killing me.”

Thankfully, the walk to the River House was short enough that Mira wasn’t completely worn out. The entire way over she couldn’t help smiling as she noticed Azriel casually falling behind a few steps so he could get a long hard look at her backside as she walked. She may or may not have put a little more swagger in her already unsteady gait just for fun.

As she approached the front door, Azriel sidled up to her again. His hand slipped over her butt before settling low on her back, his fingers gently rubbing. Before she could even reach for the door handle, his other hand was once again cradling the underside of her protruding belly.

“What is with you today?,” she chuckled, nudging him with her shoulder.

“I can’t help it,” he smiled against her neck as he licked at the sheen of sweat that had gathered there. “You. This dress. Your beautiful belly with my baby inside. When I hold you like this, it feels like I’m holding my entire world in my hands.” He gave her a gentle tug as he settled his body closer, his hard length pressing through his clothing into her hip. Soft lips traveled up the side of her neck before nibbling at her earlobe. “It just does something to me,” he whispered.

“Az, honey,” Mira sang sweetly. “I’m starving.”

“Ok,” he said as he moved to stand behind her, his insistent hardness now pressing into her plump backside.

“We should go in.”

“Ok,” he mumbled against the back of her neck, hands now skimming over the flare of her hips.

“I need to open the door to do that.”

“Ok,” he whispered along one shoulder as both hands now cradled her belly. 

With a gentle lift he took the weight and shifted upward. The strain in her back instantly felt relief and the ache in her hips eased. The noise that left her was entirely involuntary as her hands gripped over his arms.

“Oooh, that feels so good,” she practically moaned and she felt his length twitch against her.

With a nip at her exposed shoulder, Az released his own sinful noise. “That is a very dangerous thing to say right about now.”

She didn’t even get the chance to respond as suddenly the door flung open. 

“I thought I heard someone out here,” Rhys said with a smirk, his violet eyes twinkling. “Dinner is ready if you are staying.”

“Yes, please,” Mira laughed as Rhys turned to head back inside and she moved to follow him. Azriel held back for just a moment as he adjusted himself outside on the doorstep.

Family dinner moved at a leisurely pace, much as it always did. Mira was in her element enjoying the conversation and food, laughing animatedly with their table mates. The night moved much too leisurely for Azriel however. He had begun the night with gentle touches, unable to keep his hands off his glowing mate. A hand along her thigh under the table, arm slung over the chair back caressing her shoulder with his fingertips, soft lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered to her.

Now, the touches were much more insistent and his leg bounced anxiously the entire time. A firm squeeze to her knee as Mira shifted in her seat, a sharp nibble to her shoulder as he tucked a pillow behind her back, a rough graze of his knuckles along her hip reminding him that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Like he needed the reminder. It was all he could think about.

As the conversation died down and the plates were cleared away, Mira stood stretching out her aching back. Instantly, Azriel was at her side, one arm slipping around her waist as he began ushering her towards the door. 

“Az, slow down,” she huffed out a laugh as he fought to keep his strides from outpacing hers.

“I made chocolate torte,” Elain’s musical voice announced from the dining room behind them.

“Ooooh,” Mira sighed as she twisted out of Az’s hold before he could flare out a wing to stop her. “Chocolate!”

She didn’t even make it a single step in the opposite direction before one scarred hand encircled her wrist. With a tender tug, she was spun back around into her mate’s arms and pressed tight to his chest. A protest bubbled in her throat but before she could voice it, Azriel drowned it out with a hard sweeping kiss.

Relaxing against him, she felt the hand gripping the back of her head tighten as his tongue dove in, finding its way to hers. Tangling and twisting, the kiss deepened. With a reluctant groan, Az pulled his face back and gazed into his mate’s eyes gauging her reaction.

Mira noted it had gone eerily quiet as he had kissed her. Suddenly she understood why. They were no longer standing in the River House foyer, but instead in their own shared bedroom.

“I thought if I distracted you first it wouldn’t make you sick,” Azriel smirked a sly grin.

“It worked,” she said breathlessly, flashing hot all over for reasons other than the weather.

His lopsided smile grew as he watched the color flood her face. Bending, he scooped his mate up in his arms and with one large step moved to the bed, depositing her squarely in the middle. 

Before she could get her elbows underneath herself to sit up some, he was tearing at his clothing. Belt ripped from his waistband followed quickly by his pants.

“Don’t move,’ he warned in a sultry tone as he watched her trying to pull herself up. The buttons of his shirt met their demise as they popped off with a tug.

Mira giggled as she heard them pop and hit the floor somewhere in the room. “I’m not even undressed.”

“Keep it on,” Azriel growled. 

Pulling her elbows from beneath herself, she fell back on the bed, watching as he began to crawl toward her. His large hand quickly found the hem of her dress that was now pushed up around her knees. Worming its way underneath, his skin met hers and before she knew it he was pushing against the inside of one leg.

She didn’t resist, knees parting as she made room for his body to settle between them. With a quick flutter of fabric, he disappeared, head buried underneath her dress and burrowing between her thighs.

A small sound of surprise squeaked out of her at his quickness, but it was covered immediately with a sharp gasp. In just a couple passes of his tongue, Azriel was at her clit and circling that sensitive bud. The grip on her hips increased as he moaned into her folds, the vibration caused her breath to shudder.

“I thought about this all through dinner,” he rumbled before lapping insistently at her arousal. “You. Completely bare. Ready and waiting for me under this dress.” He accentuated his words with hard passes of his tongue between them.

Mira’s breaths were hardly more than quick pants now as his tongue continued those circles with ferocity. Dipping down to gather more of her arousal along his tongue, she let out a whining moan.

Tongue returning to its task, one hand released her leg and snaked its way to her entrance, fingertips teasing.

“Az,” she whimpered.

Slowly, he began pressing a finger into her core. 

“Az, wait,” she panted. “Hold on a second.”

He felt her shifting her hips within his grasp as he flipped her dress off of his head. 

“What’s wrong?” His voice carried a hint of panic as he noticed one of her arms cradling her belly.

“I need to move,” she shifted her hips once more in an effort to slide onto her side. “I can’t breathe well on my back like this.”

His panic subdued, he quickly raised himself up into a kneel and helped her to roll more comfortably on her side. Leaning to grab a pillow, he had her lift a bit so he could tuck in beneath her belly for support.

“Better?” he asked with a tender trailing sweep of his hand over her stretched skin. 

“Much,” she sighed contented. “You can continue.”

Azriel belted out a ringing laugh. “Gladly, my love.”

Pulling her bottom leg straight out along the bed, he laid himself across the end of the mattress. Mira lifted her top leg as Az laid his head on the pillow of her thigh. Grabbing her lifted leg under the knee, he propped it against his body so that her foot was planted against his ribs before tucking his arm over it. 

“Now where was I?” he pondered aloud. “Here?” He lapped one long strip through her folds.

“Or, maybe it was –,” another pass of his tongue had him barely grazing her clit. “Here?”

“Azriel, don’t tease,” she pleaded as she dug her heel into his ribcage. 

“Yes, it was here,” he smiled wickedly to himself. With the same quickness as before, Az dove back in like a starved male. Driving his tongue against that throbbing bud, he brought his fingers back to her entrance. 

Now able to draw in a full breath, Mira was gasping and moaning with intensity with each flick against her. He couldn’t keep up with the arousal that dripped from her, coating his fingers as he inserted two of them fully. 

“Ah! Yes-Az” She cried out loudly, gripping the sheets in front of her face.

Setting a solid steady pace with his hand, he drew her clit between his lips and pulled, creating suction against it as he flicked against it. 

Her cries became a scream as the leg propped against him trembled. Pulling his other arm from beneath him, he reached up, gliding his palm along her taut stomach and pressed gently where he knew she felt that familiar tightening sensation. 

Her back arched and pressed her belly deeper into his palm. Azriel felt the beginning ripples of her climax roll over his fingers from inside her. With a pull, he curled them. 

That’s when all the breath left her. The pressure against that sweet spot inside left her hanging on a gasping cry. Every muscle in her back and legs tensed in unison as that white hot pleasure crashed through her.The intense clench of her walls pulsed over his fingers. The sweeping ripple through her belly against his palm made him pant out in surprise. As she came down from that peak, Az gave one light pass of his tongue over her clit, feeling her jolt against him before pulling his face back and slowly withdrawing his fingers.

Easing her leg from over his body, he brought himself up and curled his body around her from behind. Sweeping her hair away from her neck, Az nestled his lips against her heated skin, the tips of his fingers trailing lightly over her side. Mira was still slowing her labored breath as she pressed a palm to the side of her clothed belly.

“Does it hurt?” Az asked with a slightly worried tone.

“No,” she sighed contentedly. “It was just - intense.” She let out a satisfied hum as his palm replaced hers, finding that tight muscle with ease. 

Wiggling deeper into the mattress, she felt his still adamant hardness pressed against her. “What are you thinking about back there?” She laughed, arching her butt against him.

“You already know the answer to that,” he said gruffly into her neck. After a beat of pause he brought his lips to the shell of her ear. “What are you thinking about?”

He felt her tremble as his breath coasted over that sensitive spot and he couldn’t resist giving it a teasing lick as well.

“Mmm,” she groaned, pushing back against him harder. “I’m thinking about – chocolate.” Her merry laugh rang through the space as Az huffed his own amusement against her temple. “Among other things,” she said in a low tone. Reaching her arm back, she grazed her nails along his hip, the brush of her skin causing him to buck against her involuntarily.

“Help me,” she said as her hand left his hip and grabbed the fabric bunched around her hips. “It’s too hot for this.”

Pushing into a kneel once more, Az helped her maneuver the dress from her body, revealing more and more of her full frame as he did. Tossing the dress to the floor, he paused for a moment, kneeling behind her bent knees in awe.

Fully exposed and still laying on her side, every voluptuous asset was on full display. His hands explored the access this position afforded him. Every curve that drove him wild easily reached. Her heavy breasts that filled his palms, her ample ass that jiggled when he grabbed it, her firm belly that held their child within. His child. 

With a teasing bite to her luscious thigh, Az once again pulled her lower leg straight before straddling his legs over it. Grabbing her other ankle, he wrapped her leg around his waist, holding it firmly above his hip bone. 

Shifting closer, he notched his length against her exposed entrance. His hand smoothly followed the curve of her butt before dipping into the arc of her lower back. That deepened well, strained with the weight of the child she carried left him powerless. 

As he pushed his hips against her arousal slicked core and entered her fully, Mira moaned. And Azriel whimpered. 

He had known all along that this moment would be his undoing. He had ensured that she received her pleasure first and foremost before he buried himself in her warmth knowing that he was unlikely to hold out. As his hips found their rhythm, he folded himself over, nuzzling at her breast with a moan. 

The tight pull of his climax was building in intensity with each thrust. He held back his need to drive himself harder, relishing in the pleasure of his soft rhythm. Mira’s arm snaked under his chest attempting to reach between her parted thighs. With her belly in the way, she couldn’t find purchase against the aching need that pulsed there. Lifting up slightly, Az threw her arm over his shoulder and replaced her reach with his own, thumb dancing deliciously against her clit. 

She began writhing underneath him, her quiet pants and sultry moans building in intensity until he felt her fluttering around him. He no longer held back, pushing himself desperately into her with a snap of his hips. Her arm grasped against his back, scratching at the space between his wings. 

“Az. Az. Az,” she moaned breathlessly with each thrust he gave. He couldn’t bring himself to produce any sound in return, every bit of his energy concentrated on the feeling of her walls constricting his twitching length. Another thrust and she was coming apart beneath him, clenching hard around him. One more and his own release was barreling through him.

Her name left his lips in a cry. Every pulse of release stole his breath further until he collapsed on top of her gasping for air.

Moments passed as they collected their breath before Az shifted into a roll carefully avoiding landing his weight on his mate’s belly and settled in front of her. Her middle pressed against his own, his hand swept tenderly back and forth over it. Her eyes slipped closed and her breath evened out into the quiet pattern of almost sleep.

“Tired?” he asked, brushing the hair from her face. 

“Mhm,” she replied in a sigh, rubbing her cheek into his palm.

Azriel remained as he was, hand cradling her face as he stared at his mate in wonder. His mate. His partner through life. The mother of his child. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said as he removed his hand and replaced it with a kiss. Mira just gave another throaty noise in response, not bothering to open her eyes.

Some minutes later, Mira was awoken from slumber as Azriel cursed to himself. Popping her eyes open she watched as he stumbled through the bedroom door, arms laden with a tray in one hand and a steaming mug in another. Kicking the door shut behind him with his heel she noticed he was once again fully dressed. 

“Where did you go?” she asked sleepily as she pulled herself up to sitting, dragging the blanket Az had left over her up around her chest. 

“I felt bad that I made you skip dessert,” he smiled at her as he lowered the tray over her lap. Upon the tray sat half of Elain’s chocolate torte, still in its original pan, two forks laid across the empty half. 

“Oh, Azriel,” she brightened with delight, grabbing his face as he bent to place the mug on the tray as well. “I love you. I love you. I love you,” she giggled as she peppered his face with kisses. 

Turning back to the tray, she snatched the torte pan and settled it squarely on top of her round belly, digging in expeditiously. 

“Mmm,” she moaned, closing her eyes as she savored the rich taste.

“It almost sounds like the chocolate is better than the sex,” Az teased as he climbed into bed next to her. 

“Oh,” she laughed. “It’s definitely up there,” she held her thumb and forefinger apart barely touching as she squinted at him.  “A very close second I’d say.”

Az released a booming laugh before he too grabbed a fork and settled in for dessert.

[plspush]

Posting again so soon but <33333 oh ma gawd he’s in labor (he thinks)

[choccy-milky]

during pregnancy seb flip flops between being concerned and guilty and worried, to also being the most self-satisfied and smug man that ever existed LMAO. like yup, that was me, i did that

😃👍 (original)

[braveclementine]

Chapter 18

Warnings: 18+ readers only, mentions of nudity, smut

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

𝖂𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 in courtyard when the letter came. Hermione had been berating Harry about not concentrating on Slughorn and instead, concentrating on Malfoy. Meanwhile, Ron kept ducking behind Hermione as different girls came around the corner, always afraid that one of them would be Lavender.

"Harry Potter? I was asked to give you this." The girl said. She had straight black hair and pretty eyes. She handed a letter to Harry.

"Thanks. . ." Harry said, taking the small roll of parchment. When the girl had left he said, "Dumbledore said we wouldn't be having any more lessons until I got the memory!"

"It's not from Dumbledore." I said over Hermione's head.

"Look at this." Harry said to Hermione, handing her the letter.

I read over her shoulder:

Dear Harry, Ron, Elizabeth, and Hermione, Aragog died last night. Harry, Ron, and Elizabeth, you met him, and you know how special he was. Hermione, I know you'd have liked him. It would mean a lot to me if you'd dip down for the burial later this evening. I'm planning on doing it round dusk, that was his favorite time of day. I know you're not supposed to be out that late, but you can use the cloak. Wouldn't ask, but I can't face it alone. Hagrid.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Hermione said, passing it on to Ron who said, "He's mental! That thing told its mate to eat Harry, Eliza and me! Told them to help themselves! And now Hagrid expects us to go down there and cry over its horrible hairy body!"

"It's not just that." Hermione said. "He's asking us to leave the castle at night and he knows security's a million times tighter and how much trouble we'd be in if we were caught."

"We've been down to see him by night before." Harry pointed out.

"Yes, but for something like this?" Hermione asked skeptically. "We've risked a lot to help Hagrid out, but after all- Aragog's dead. If it were a question of saving him-"

"-I'd want to go even less. You didn't meet him, Hermione. Believe me, being dead will have improved him a lot." Ron said.

I privately agreed with Ron, though I hated the idea of Hagrid facing something terrible alone. Correction, something terrible for him alone. I could most definitely sneak down to see him.

"Harry!" Hermione said desperately, "You can't be thinking of going. It's such a pointless thing to get detention for!"

"Yeah, I know. I s'pose Hagrid'll have to bury Aragog without us."

"I'll go down." I said and the other three looked at me. I shrugged, "Look, I can turn into a cat. Cats are allowed past security, aren't they?"

"Ah. . ." Hermione said, looking worried.

"Nothing's going to happen Hermione." I said gently.

"Alright then." Ron said, "That sums that up."

Hermione turned to Harry. "Look, Potions will be almost empty this afternoon, with us all off doing our tests. . . Try and soften Slughorn up a bit then!"

"Fifty-seventh time lucky, you think?" Harry asked in a bitter voice.

"Lucky." Ron said. "Harry, that's it- get lucky!"

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked cautiously, knowing exactly what Ron meant.

Ron looked at him excitedly, "Use your lucky potion!"

Hermione looked at Ron in a new light, "Ron that's- that's it! Of course! Why didn't I think of it?"

"It'll work." I said confidently.

Harry looked at the three of us. "Felix Felicis? I dunno.. I was sort of saving it. . ."

"For what?" I asked, amused because I knew exactly who he was thinking about.

He didn't answer, having gone off into la la land and didn't come back until Hermione asked, "Harry? Are you still with us?"

"Wha-? Yeah, of course. Well. . . okay. If I can't get Slughorn to talk this afternoon, I'll take some Felix and have another go this evening."

"That's decided, then." Hermione said, getting to her feet and started to do pirouettes. I was quite jealous. Twycross hadn't gotten the Minister's approval for me to take the test early. "Destination. . . determination. . . deliberation. . ."

"Oh, stop that, I feel sick enough as it is- quick, hide me!" Ron cowered.

"It isn't Lavender." Hermione snapped.

"Cool. Blimey, they don't look happy, do they?"

I scoffed, "They're the Montgomery sisters, of course they aren't going to be looking happy! Didn't you hear about their brother?"

"I'm losing track of what's happening to everyone's relatives, to be honest." Ron said carelessly.

"Well, their brother was attacked by a werewolf. The rumor is that their mother refused to help the Death Eaters. Anyways, the boy was only five and he died in St. Mungo's, they couldn't save him." Hermione answered.

"He died?" Harry sounded shocked, "But surely werewolves don't kill, they just turn you into one of them?"

"It depends." I said sadly. "Sometimes they lose control. It's why dad always traveled so far during full moons. If he didn't turn me, he'd kill me, and I don't think he would've been able to keep living if he'd done either one."

"What was the werewolf's name?" Harry asked.

"Well, the rumor is that it was that Fenrir Greyback." Hermione said sadly.

"I knew it- the maniac who likes attacking kids, the one Lupin told me about!" Harry said angrily.

Hermione and I looked at him sadly. "Harry, you've got to get that memory. It's all about stopping Voldemort, isn't it? These dreadful things that are happening are all down to him. . ."

The bell rang, Ron jumping to his feet to join Hermione.

"You'll do fine." Harry said, getting to his feet as well. "Good luck."

"Hermione, you'll pass. Ron, you're going to leave half an eyebrow behind and they'll fail you if you're not careful. Remember the tips that'll keep you from splinching yourself." I said happily.

Harry and I headed to the potions dungeon and found that it was the two of us, Ernie, and Malfoy.

"All too young to Apparate just yet?" Slughorn asked, looking around, "Not turned seventeen yet?"

We all shook our heads.

"Ah well, as we're so few, we'll do something fun. I want you all to brew me up something amusing!"

"That sounds good, sir." Ernie said, rubbing his hands together, smiling.

"What do you mean, 'something amusing'?" Malfoy asked irritably.

"Oh, surprise me." Slughorn said.

I headed to the side room, pulling out a cauldron that already had ingredients in it. My Felix Felicis potion. I had started it with Severus after everyone had come back from break. I knew that we were going to need quite a bit.

But the potion needed work, only halfway done. Even with the headstart, the potion end time would be cutting close to the battle date.

Across from me, weird smells were emitting from Ernie's cauldron. It seemed he was trying to invent a potion. Draco didn't seem to be putting much work into his potion either, but Harry was working methodically on his. Occasionally, I caught brief smells of peppermint.

"Well, now, this looks absolutely wonderful," Slughorn said after an hour and a half of work, standing over Harry's potion. He clapped his hands together, staring down into Harry's cauldron. "Euphoria, I take it? And what's that I smell? Mmmm. . . you've added a sprig of peppermint, haven't you? Unorthodox, but what a stroke of inspiration, Harry, of course, that would tend to counterbalance the occasional side effects of excessive singing and nose-tweaking. . . I really don't know where you get these brain waves, my boy.. unless it's just your mother's genes coming out in you!"

"Oh. . . yeah, maybe." Harry said.

I had covered my nose discretely as the potion that Ernie had created was spewing horrid fumes.

The bell rang, Ernie and Draco left a once.

"Sir." Harry said but Slughorn was already leaving the dungeon. "Professor- Professor, don't you want to taste my po-?" Harry called desperately but the door closed.

I sighed, "No go Harry. But I'd certainly like to try some if you don't mind. You should try some too."

We both took a few sips and a familiar feeling flooded through me.

"Oh. My. God." Harry said, looking dazed. "That is amazing."

I picked up my cauldron and told Harry I'd see him later, and hurried up to Severus' office. Since class had let out, there were no students in the classroom and I passed through with no qualms.

I set the cauldron down in the corner. I noticed Severus had already labelled ingredients in different bottles and jars for me. I quickly finished adding the other ingredients and stirring. Severus came in a few minutes later.

"How was class?" He asked, taking a seat at his desk and picking up his quill.

"Wonderful. . ." I said, carefully counting the rotations as I stirred. Perfect, it had to be perfect.

There was a silence that contained scratching quills and momentary pauses where it was dipped in the pot of ink, bubbling from the cauldron, and soft breathing. But the potion Harry had made was making something weird happen to me.

I finally set everything aside. It was to sit and stew for about three and a half weeks and seven hours to the dot. I pulled out my potions calendar, marking the specific time. The good thing was my time-turner. If I didn't manage to get there the first time, I could most definitely get there the second time.

I stood up, getting ready to go down to dinner when Severus said unexpectedly, "It really was brilliant art, Elizabeth."

"Sorry?" I questioned.

Severus looked up momentarily, his black eyes boring into mine. "The portraits. They really were brilliant."

"You set yours on fire." I pointed out, my lips twitching to keep from smiling.

"Yes. . ." Severus said, turning back to his parchment. "You're going to ruin my image as a cold hearted person. People might actually think I'm soft."

I laughed, walking up behind him and hugging him from behind. "Your much softer than you let on." I kissed his cheek and then paused. Euphoria. I took the quill from his hand and turned the chair around, sitting on his lip, pressing my lips to his neck. He let out a small noise, perhaps a gasp, perhaps a moan, I wasn't sure.

Perhaps I shouldn't have taken the Euphoria potion because I seemed to have unlimited energy and didn't feel deterred by anything at all.

I slipped his robes from his shoulders, letting them fall. He pushed me off of him so that he could get out of the chair, and we stumbled through the door of the bedroom and onto the bed. I was on top of him, letting him slide into me easily. I moved with him quickly, my breasts bouncing carelessly and I barely noticed the pain. All I could think about was the enjoyment of him inside of me and my hands in his soft, silky hair. His hands reached up to cup my breasts, pulling me down slightly so his lips could kiss them. I buried my face in his neck.

He rolled over as I moaned softly, his hands clutching at my hips, moving gently now. Strange, usually we started slow and made our way up in speed. We seemed to be doing the opposite and it was lovely. He reached up with one hand to cover my breast, squeezing softly, while the other snaked around to the back of my head, bringing my head up to be closer to his.

Our lips reached the others skin at different spots, not necessarily each others lips. The small bursts of delightfulness was punctured with small bites of pain. But it was all lovely and in my current state, everything seemed heightened tenfold.

"What. . . what was that?" Severus asked, almost breathlessly as we laid there, the blankets curling around our legs, our clothes scattered on the floor.

"Harry gave me a potion of euphoria." I muttered, pent out of energy now that the effects of the potion had worn out. My cheek rested on his chest "I have no idea what just happened. . . I mean, I know what happened. . . I just don't know how it happened."

Severus chuckled, kissing my neck. I shivered slightly under his touch. Bloody hell.

"I should um- I should go down to dinner- yeah- dinner." I said, breathing normally again.

"As should I." Severus said. "Though I feel quite exhausted at the moment."

I too felt quite tired and would've liked to have laid there and fallen asleep. But I couldn't. So I giggled, moving away from the bed, and getting dressed again, before leaving the classroom to go down to dinner.

After dinner, I ducked into the bathroom and upon finding it empty, I turned into a cat and strode from the room.

I had to run from some Ravenclaw first-year girls who thought I was just a sweet little kitten, and after hiding on top of a suit of armor, finally made my way back to the entrance hall, and slipped out the door, sprinting across the lawn to get to Hagrid's house.

I transformed back outside the door- I didn't really want to face Fang as a cat.

"Yeh came!" Hagrid said, pulling me into a hug. He wasn't crying- at the moment- but his eyes were red and puffy.

"Harry'll be down soon." I said. "Ron and Hermione couldn't come though."

"Don' matter, don' matter." Hagrid said, sitting back down in a chair. I made a pot of tea and gave him a cup which he drank with trembling fingers. I waited, pacing the cabin, waiting for Harry. Fang followed me, looking for head scratches which I gave occasionally.

There was a knock on the door and Hagrid was up, opening the door. Harry stood there, his invisibility cloak held out in front of him.

"Yeh came." Hagrid repeated.

"Yeah-Ron and Hermione couldn't though, they're really sorry." Harry said smoothly. Perhaps it was my imagination, but there almost seemed a faint gold hue around Harry. But it was so slight that Hagrid had not noticed it. Perhaps it was my sight. I had noticed that my sight and hearing had changed slightly since becoming an Animagus (a side effect that wasn't mentioned anywhere in the books or manuscripts).

"Don'- don' matter. . . He'd've bin touched yeh're here, though, Harry. . ." Hagrid said with a loud sob. Harry patted his elbow gently.

"Where are we burying him? The Forest?" Harry asked.

"Blimey, no. The other spiders won' let me anywhere near their webs now! Aragog's gone. Turns out it was on'y on his orders they didn' eat me! Can yeh believe that, Harry?" Hagrid said while wiping his eyes on the bottom of his shirt.

"I think he mentioned something like that when we went to talk to him." I said casually, sitting down. Fang came over, setting his head on my knees and I grimaced at the slobber. I really had never been a dog person. And I liked the cute dogs, the little Pomeranians and huskies and retrievers and bichon frises and labs and beagles. Bulldogs, pitbulls, pugs, boarhounds, ugh.

I had gotten along with Fang in my second year, having lived in Hagrid's cabin for nearly two months because I figured living in Hagrid's cabin by myself was safer than staying in the castle with lots and lots of people. Fang could grow on you if you could get used to slobber.

"Never bin an are o' the forest I couldn' go before! It wasn' easy, gettin' Aragog's body out o' there, I can tell yeh- they usually eat their dead, see. . . But I wanted ter give 'im a nice burial. . . a proper send-off. . ." Hagrid said, not paying me any attention.

"I can't go near the centaurs anymore." I said randomly. What the hell were the side effects of the Euphoria potion?

"Professor Slughorn met me coming down here, Hagrid." Harry said, resuming the patting of the elbow.

"Not in trouble, are yeh?" Hagrid asked, so alarmed that Harry might be in trouble he stopped crying. "Yeh shouldn' be outta the castle in the evenin', I know it, it's my fault-"

"No, no, when he heard what I was doing he said he'd like to come and pay his last respects to Aragog too. He's gone to change into something more suitable, I think. . . and he said he'd bring some bottles so we can drink to Aragog's memory."

"Tha's- tha's righ' nice of him, that is, an' not turnin' yeh in either. I've never really had a lot ter do with Horace Slughorn before. . . Comin' ter see old Aragog off, though, eh? Well. . . he'd've liked that, Aragog would. . ." Hagrid muttered.

I snorted quietly and drank my tea. Then I sighed, putting my teacup down and pulled a piece of paper out of my back pocket. "Here, I drew this for you."

Hagrid took it in a shaking hand and unfolded it and started to sob. I quickly grabbed it from his hands so the charcoal wouldn't run.

"It's- it's beautiful." Hagrid sobbed and I put the drawing of Aragog up on his dresser so that he could see it. It was a horrible drawing- not because it was bad (if I may be so humble) but rather horrible in a gruesome way. The way I'd seen Aragog through my scared twelve-year old eyes. Strange, I felt so much older than sixteen now.

"Are we going to bury him here, Hagrid, in your garden?" Harry asked after a moment when Hagrid had stopped sobbing.

"Jus' beyond the pumpkin patch, I thought. I've already dug the- yeh know- grave. Jus' though we'd say a few nice things over him- happy memories, yeh know-"

There was a knock at the door and I stood, getting it and letting Professor Slughorn in. "Hagrid, so very sorry to hear of your loss."

"Tha's very nice of yeh. Thanks a lot. An' thanks fer not givin' Harry detention neither. . ." Hagrid said gruffly, all tears done and gone.

"Wouldn't have dreamed of it. Sad night, sad night. . . where is the poor creature?" Slughorn asked, his eyes roaming the cabin and settling on the drawing.

"Out here," Hagrid said, leaving the cabin. "Shall we- shall we do it, then?"

"Wonderful artwork Miss Kane." Professor Slughorn complimented, "You've got quite the eye for artistic beauty."

"Thank you Professor." I said quietly, briefly remembering that my drawing of him had him dressed in a pineapple suit, and I took up the rear of the party.

The moon was glistening on the grounds so that everything was in shadow. The moon rays mixed and intermingled with the light from Hagrid's windows just enough to make out the large boulder like shadow. There, before it, was a massive pit that was ten-feet-deep with a matching sized pile of dirt to go with it.

"Magnificent." Professor Slughorn said, striding to the front of the spider's face. I could only imagine it faking death and reaching out, snapping off a leg to feast on. I suddenly felt quite nauseous. I quickly put a hand on my stomach.

I could hear the tinkle of bottles and rolled my eyes. So the walrus had come for the Acromantula venom, was I surprised?

"It's not ev'ryone appreciates how beau'iful they are. I didn' know yeh were int'rested in creatures like Aragog, Horace."

"Interested? My dear Hagrid, I revere them." Slughorn said, taking a step back from the body. I could understand his point. It would be a horrible idea not to respect them. The same way you should revere Centaurs and Merpeople so they didn't kill you with a bow or a spear. There were a lot of rules to follow in the magical world. "Now. . . shall we proceed to the burial?"

Hagrid nodded and moved forward, pushing against the black spider's body and it fell into the pit with a crunch. I winced. Hagrid started to cry.

"Of course, it's difficult for you, who knew him best." Professor Slughorn said, patting Hagrid's elbow. "Why don't I say a few words?"

I came to stand next to Hagrid who wrapped a massive arm around my shoulders. My knees nearly buckled under the weight of the arm but I managed to keep standing though I felt as though I was carrying two bookbags with twenty textbooks in them.

"Farewell, Aragog, king of arachnids," Professor Slughorn said in an impressive voice, something like a preacher I'd heard at a church before. "whose long and faithful friendship those who knew you won't forget! Though your body will decay, your spirit lingers on in the quiet, web-spun places of your forest home. May your many-eyed descendants ever flourish and your human friends find solace for the loss they have sustained!"

"Tha' was. . . tha' was. . . beau'ful!" Hagrid sobbed and he collapsed onto the heap, crying harder than ever before. Even I had tears springing to my eyes, though I was sure that had to do more with the high emotions running around here than the actual sadness that Aragog was dead. But I hated it when Hagrid was upset.

"There, there." Slughorn said and with a wave of his wand, the earth crashed back into the grave, smoothing over the surface. "Let's get inside and have a drink. Get on his other side, Harry. . . That's it. . . Up you come, Hagrid. . . well done. . ."

Hagrid was deposited in a chair at the table. Fang came padding over and put his head on Harry's lap as usual. I think Fang liked Harry better than me and I was quite okay with that. Professor Slughorn uncorked one of the bottles he had brought.

"I have had it all tested for poison." He said in what he obviously thought a reassuring voice. "Had a house-elf taste every bottle after what happened to your poor friend Rupert."

I had many retorts for that comment, some of them about the cruelty for house-elves, and some of them about what 'Rupert's' real name was.

"One for Harry. . . one for me. . . and one for Elizabeth. . ." Slughorn said, diving the second bottle between the three of us. The first bottle had been fully deposited into Hagrid's tankard. "Well- to Aragog."

"Aragog." Harry, Hagrid, and I said together, also lifting our glasses.

Hagrid and Slughorn drank deeply. Harry didn't drink at all. I took a small sip and did not find the texture or taste to my taste. I'd never liked wine or alcoholic substances. I set the glass down on the table. I supposed I could hand it over if they wanted more drink.

"I had him from an egg, yeh know. Tiny little thing he was when he hatched. 'Bout the size of a Pekingese." Hagrid started down the tale.

"Sweet." Slughorn said.

"Used ter keep him in a cupboard up at the school until. . . well. . ." Hagrid's face darkened and a peculiar thought came over me.

If Slughorn had taught Tom Riddle, and Tom Riddle and Hagrid had gone to the school at the same time, then Slughorn had taught Hagrid as well. I found this much more fascinating than the story that was unfolding. I loved finding connections where none seemed to be. I always felt the need to share it too and on instinct, I looked over at Harry, but kept my mouth shut.

"That's never unicorn hair, Hagrid?" Slughorn asked, eyeing Hagrid's walls with interest. Hagrid collected things he found in forest- unicorn tail hair included. I'd helped him collect some. It got caught on bushes and ferns and was quite easy to pick up.

"Oh yeah," Hagrid said with indifference. "Gets pulled out of their tails, they catch it on branches an' stuff in the forest, yeh know. . ."

"But my dear chap, do you know how much that's worth?" Slughorn asked in awe.

"I use it fer bindin' on bandages an' stuff if a create gets injured. It's dead useful. . . very strong, see." Hagrid said with another shrug.

There was quite a difference between the educated and the uneducated, I noticed. Hagrid had only three years of schooling (at least at Hogwarts) and yet, he didn't see things for their monetary value. He'd even passed on some of his skills to me, using unicorn hair for bandages and other things. Slughorn on the other hand. . . Aragog's venom was rare, very expensive, very valuable. . . unicorn hair could be sold to wand makers. . .

They had ventured into tale about the Centaurs of the forest and I listened with vivid interest as Hagrid told recent stories of Ivagio, Ronan, Bane, and the others. I had missed some of them- Bane excluded- and hearing recent stories was quite nice. I thought about retelling some of the stories to Firenze, but I wasn't sure how he'd take it or if it would make him more upset.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Harry wave his wand slightly and the bottle on the table refilled. I said nothing, grabbing my own cup and turned the wine into pumpkin juice. Then I started to take small sips while listening to Hagrid and Slughorn trade stories about the illegal dragon trades they'd taken part of.

Harry continued to refill the bottle and they started to get drunker. They started to make random toasts to some random, some not random things. To Hogwarts, to Dumbledore, to elf-made wine, and to Harry.

"Harry Potter!" Hagrid bellowed, slopping another bucket of wine down his front. I felt how I had felt coming to Grimmauld 12 before Christmas and finding Sirius had been drinking as he had been alone for a long time. I was quite upset, watching him drink himself into oblivion, but I did nothing to interfere.

"Yes, indeed, Parry Otter, the Chosen Boy Who- well- something of that sort." Slughorn mumbled.

Parry Otter. I laughed aloud and neither seemed to notice. Harry's lips twitched for a millisecond.

Hagrid became tearful soon after, reaching up and pulling the whole band of unicorn hair off of the ceiling and gave it to Slughorn. Slughorn put it in his pocket saying, "To friendship! To generosity! To ten Galleons a hair!"

I watched the end of the unicorn hair slip into his pocket, more upset than was rational. Hagrid and I had spent classes searching for unicorn hair. While easy to take off, unicorns were usually quite careful and rarely caught their tails on bushes unless they were already loose. It was going to take ages to find more unicorn hair for bandages. What if a magical creature got hurt? We would have nothing to bind their wounds with. . . unless something else could be used? Maybe Firenze could teach me something.

They started to sing and I put my head on my arms, wondering when the night was going to end. I suppose I could've left, but I didn't want to. Something was keeping me here.

Some called him Odo the early and some called him Odo the late It's undoubtedly true he was often confused, but his deeds they were noble and great

Some name him born on a Wednesday, for he had his measure of woe. No he was born on a Thursday some say, for he'd always a long way to go.

"Aaargh, the good die young," Hagrid muttered after slumping into his chair. "Me dad was no age ter go... nor were yer mum an' dad, Harry..." More tears oozed from his eyes and he grabbed Harry's arm and shook it. I watched the scene with sadness. "Bes' wiz and witchard o' their age I never knew... terrible thing... terrible thing..."

And Odo the hero, they bore him back home To the place that he'd known as a lad, They laid him to rest with his hat inside out And his wand snapped in two, which was sad.

"...terrible." Hagrid grunted one last time before falling asleep.

"Sorry, can't carry a tune to save my life." Professor Slughorn said with a hiccup.

"Hagrid wasn't talking about your singing. He was talking about my mum and dad dying." Harry said in a soft voice, the first time he'd talked ever since coming back into the cabin.

I flinched. Mum and Dad. I felt a sudden wave of grief and longing.

"Oh. Oh dear. Yes, that was- was terrible indeed. Terrible. . . terrible. . ." Slughorn said with a horrible belch. He refilled the mugs, obviously having nothing else to say but said anyways, "I don't- don't suppose you remember it, Harry?"

"No- well, I was only one when they died." Harry said. I was looking at the floor because I was crying. "But I've found out pretty much what happened since. My dad died first. Did you know that?"

"I- I didn't." Slughorn said in a quiet voice.

"Yeah. . . Voldemort murdered him and then stepped over his body toward my mum. He told her to get out of the way. He told me she needn't have died. He only wanted me. She could have run."

I imagined for a moment, if she had stepped aside. Voldemort would have only of killed Dad and Harry. It would've been me and her. Sirius would've helped her raise me and Lupin would have too. I could've later avenged Harry's killer. Or maybe Dumbledore would have destroyed him before I was even eleven.

"Oh dear. She could have. . . she needn't. . . That's awful. . ." Slughorn murmured.

"It is, isn't it? But she didn't move. Dad was already dead, but she didn't want me to go too. She tried to plead with Voldemort. . . but he just laughed. . ."

"That's enough! Really, my dear boy, enough. . . I'm an old man. . . I don't need to hear. . . I don't want to hear. . ."

He didn't want to hear what he had done.

"I forgot, you liked her, didn't you?" Harry asked. I shot him a quick look. Slughorn doted on his mother everyday, surely Harry couldn't have forgotten that! Or perhaps he was faking it.

"Liked her? I don't imagine anyone who met her wouldn't have liked her. . . Very brave. . . Very funny. . . It was the most horrible thing. . ."

"But you won't help her son. She gave me her life, but you won't give me a memory." Harry said.

Hagrid's snoring was all that filled the room at that moment. Even Fang was silent.

"Don't say that. It isn't a question. . . If it were to help you, of course. . . but no purpose can be served. . ."

"It can. Dumbledore needs information. I need information." Harry said loudly and firmly. Harry leaned forward a little. "I am the Chosen One. I have to kill him. I need that memory."

"You are the Chosen one?"

"Of course I am."

"But then. . . my dear boy. . . you're asking a great deal. . . you're asking me, in fact, to aid you in your attempt to destroy-"

"You don't want to get rid of the wizard you killed Lily Evans?"

"Harry, Harry, of course I do, but-"

"You're scared he'll find out you helped me?"

Slughorn said nothing.

"Be brave like my mother, Professor. . ."

Slughorn lifted his fingers to his mouth as though he were trying to smoke an invisible cigar. "I am not proud. . . I am ashamed of what- of what that memory shows. . . I think I may have done great damage that day. . ."

He had.

"You'd cancel out anything you did by giving me the memory. It would be a very brave and noble thing to do." Harry said.

Would it though? Would it cancel out everything?

Hagrid twitched his sleep, his elbow nearly knocking over the tankard. I watched as though hypnotized. There was a long silence. They both waited, a type of staring contest seemed to be going on between the two of them.

Finally Slughorn touched the tip of his wand to his temple and withdrew it, a long silver thread of memory stretched until it broke. It swung from the end of the wand until Slughorn put it into a small bottle and passed it, with a trembling hand, to Harry. He had tears in his eyes, or maybe his face was just obscured by my tears.

"Thank you very much, Professor."

"You're a good boy, and you've got her eyes. . . Just don't think too badly of me once you've seen it. . ." And with that, he put his head down and with a deep sigh, fell asleep.

⬅️➡️

[problemchildzu]

Kyaris is a big boi

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode IV

Seed of Life

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

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

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

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

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

Word Count: 10k sorry

Requested: Yes || No

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

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

<- Previous -> Next

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

Forty-two…  

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

Forty-three…  

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

Forty-four… 

“You are with child.” 

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

“A boy.”  

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

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

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

‘She won’t make it out alive!’; 

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

If your legs could go any quicker, they would.  

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

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

Does Ralak… even want this?  

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

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

And there he is, in all his glory.  

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

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

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

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

How do I say this?  

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

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

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

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

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

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

But… nothing.  

“I’m pregnant.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your soon-to-be swelling belly.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?  

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

—— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

—— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mortified is an understatement.  

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

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

“She is pregnant.”  

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

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

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

More at stake. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All to no avail.  

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

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

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

The night Ralak took your virginity. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always.” Ralak answers firmly.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——smut warning—— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he’s been patient.  

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

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

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

For a while, he lost trust within himself.  

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

Ruthlessly.  

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

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

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

Just like now.  

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

Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eywa. 

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

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

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

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

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

If they’d even fit.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” Your answer is breathy and short.  

Ralak heaves a heavy sigh.  

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

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

Ralak chuckles.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smack. 

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

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

But you want him to lose it.  

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

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

Smack. 

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

Right?  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You carry his child yet still take him so well.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—— 

[evielmostdefinitely]

I know you must be busy, but i just have to share this with you. You can get to it whenever you want to. Can you write about reader and coryo finding out that reader is pregnant? You can do whatever you want with that. Anyway, i love your work so much and please never stop writing. You write for coryo so perfectly ❤️ thank you

sprouting in spring |coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, you and coryo find out you're pregnant.

also sorry for the delay, i've just been super busy with life. going to try to update more!

contains: pregnancy. female reader. dark/possessive coryo. mentions of struggles getting pregnant/ infertility. duke reader. language. capitol!reader.

“It will only take a moment, Mrs. Snow.” Doctor Crane nodded, sealing the vial of your blood. You pretended not to see the way his hands shook when your assigned Peacekeeper adjusted the gun in his arms. His uniform had been modified, all the Peacekeeper’s had, the newest order your husband had put out. 

It felt colder somehow when the doctor left, a Peacekeeper following him closely. The sterile room with its too bright lights that made you squint at the harshness, stomach turning with nerves. 

You wished Coriolanus was here. You weren’t sure why this time you were so anxious, why you missed him so. He only came to a handful of your appointments, the ones his schedule would allow for. Since the two of you began trying, Coryo insisted you were to be tested every single day. 

“I want to know the moment it happens.” Coriolanus had rasped, eyes dark with a primal need, still buried deep inside you. “I don’t want a single second to pass by without me knowing.”  

So everyday at three, precisely, the Capitol’s doctor would usher you into the same frigid room, and draw a small vile of blood to test. Each day, so far, he’d come back with negative results. With each passing day, the both of you began to worry. Doctor Crane had mentioned at the last appointment that there were treatments available, other options, if this problem persisted. 

You were glad Coriolnaus wasn’t there for that appointment. You knew he’d be able to sense your upset at the poor choice of words the doctor used- that he’d have his head for insinuating that you were the issue. 

The door latched, startling you from your thoughts, your stomach plummeting at the neutrality on Crane’s face- the same as it was every day, always bringing the news you weren’t looking for. 

“Mrs. Snow,” Doctor Crane sat, the familiar papers in his hands, only this time- they didn’t shake. 

You steeled yourself, a slow inhale to steady your nerves, your emotions, at least until you returned to the sanctuary of your home.

 “Congratulations.” The sigh never came, your breath hitching and halting in your throat with surprise. 

Crane gave a soft smile, passing the papers towards you. “You’ve tested positive.” If his words weren’t enough, there in bold letters were the results- Pregnant. 

“I-I- Really?” You squeaked. You hated how dull you sounded, knowing Coryo would be embarrassed of your lack of composure. 

Crane didn’t seem to notice, nodding instead. “Yes, Mrs. Snow.” He stood. “Congratulations. You’re pregnant.” 

Your ears rang, the new found reality not yet setting in. Crane’s instructions falling dull against your racing mind, thoughts consumed and rushing with only one thing- Coriolanus. 

You couldn’t wait to tell him, nearly running through the halls towards his office, clutching the results neatly in your hand. A shaking hand lifted to knock on the large door of his office. 

“Who is it?” Coriolanus snapped, and you could picture his pinched expression, huffing with annoyance at the intrusion. 

“It’s me.” You called, looking into the camera above the door, biting back your own grin. “Let me in.” 

The mechanical whirr came, unlatching the door before you stepped through, carefully closing it back. Coriolanus stood when you entered, eyes narrowed in a predatory way that left you shivering. 

“What is it, my darling?” Coryo hummed, stepping towards you. “Has something happened?” 

“No- well, yes, but it’s not bad.” You stammered dumbly, head spinning with excitement. “I just came back from the doctor.” 

Coriolanus' face fell. “And?” He rasped, voice dropping to a near whisper. 

You swallowed your own gleeful giggles, lips pressed in a tight line to keep yourself from blurting out the good news. Instead, you handed him the papers, watching as he read it carefully. You didn’t miss the moment his expression fell, eyes widening, sending your tummy into flutterings of excitement. 

“You’re- It’s true?” Coriolanus whispered. Your heart sunk at his words, ached for him- always skeptical, your husband. So cynical in his trust, even with you, that his first reaction was to ask if the news was valid. 

“You’re pregnant?” Coryo’s voice cracked gently, leaving you swooning at the softness. 

“Yes,” You nodded, beaming. You looked radiant to him, so happy, so proud. “I-I couldn’t wait to tell you. I made them bring me here so I could share the news.” You grinned, hands closing over his sweetly. “We’re having a baby, Coryo.” 

Coriolanus nodded, tongue too thick in his own mouth to speak. He knew it was coming, thought about this day since the moment he’d started trying to impregnate you. Still, hearing it, seeing you in front of him spilling with excitement, it left him faltering. Desperate to regain control, to not give into himself and allow him the softness that inevitably always ruined him. 

“That’s wonderful news.” Coryo gave a soft smile. You found it to be forced. “What did the doctor say was to happen now?” 

You frowned, your face falling slightly. You’d waited for weeks to be able to tell him this, and now… this was his reaction? So clinical and cold, it made your stomach twist with nerves. 

“Well, he said I’d start vitamins to keep the baby healthy, and that’d we’d listen to the heart beat soon.” You muttered, your hands sliding from his. “Coryo, are you not excited?” Your eyes shone with a new wave of emotions, upset. “Is this not what you want?” 

Coryo’s heart lurched, pulling his thoughts out of the clouding fog he always found himself into. Spiraling need to have a plan, to be one step ahead of any possible risks at all times. 

“Of course, I’m happy, Petal.” Coryo cooed, hands sliding over your cheeks, cupping your face affectionately. “I’m elated, truly, I am.” 

Your narrowing gaze told him you weren’t convinced. “Darling, don’t be cross with me.” He sighed. “This is… It’s a lot of news to take in for the both of us. Were you not shocked when they told you?” 

You frowned. “Yes.” You muttered, eyes casting down from his gaze. His hands pulled, lifting you back towards him. 

“Then allow me the same grace.” Coriolanus said, head dipping towards your own, so close your noses were nearly touching. 

As if to seal the deal, his hands slid from your face down to your abdomen, spreading across your stomach. Your body tingled with excited heat, squirming under his touch. “We’re having a baby.” Coryo muttered, eyes boring into where his hand laid, as if he could see the baby in there. 

“A baby.” You whispered, hand sliding over his, your wedding ring shining in the low light of his office. 

Coriolanus stood there, holding you in his office, hand still cradling your stomach as his new reality set in around him. That he was to be a father, that he finally had done what he always wanted to- sired an heir. Even after the marriage, Coriolanus was wary that you might leave him. That his reign would end, but now, he knew you’d be with him for life. You and the baby.

[catnorem4]

Hes so smitten 🥺💜

Needed to draw fluffy stuff

[dee-writes-smut]

DICENTRAS (Chapter Five)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY Lucien shows up to the Autumn Court and secrets are soon revealed.

CONTENT WARNINGS angst, arguing, leaving, grief (over someone who is still alive), minor injuries, and Eris being angry.

AUTHORS NOTE annnnnd we are back into the swing of things! I would like to thank you all again for your patience these last few weeks, I am so incredibly grateful to all of you. Anyways, enough of the sappy, enjoy getting your hearts ripped out! :) -Dee

SERIES MASTERLIST

As the weeks passed after that fateful kiss, the atmosphere in the forest house transformed entirely. You had moved into Eris's room, and the space quickly became a haven of warmth and love. Each morning, you would wake in his arms, feeling the solid comfort of his embrace, the soft light filtering through the curtains casting a gentle glow over the room. The dawn would break with whispered conversations and soft laughter, the sound of your shared happiness filling the air like a sweet melody.

Eris had taken to placing his hand on your growing belly every morning, feeling the baby's movements with a look of awe and wonder in his eyes. The bond between the two of you deepened with each passing day, and the baby seemed to sense the harmony, responding with gentle kicks and rolls whenever Eris was near. The connection between the three of you was palpable, a testament to the love that had blossomed in the most unexpected of places.

You found yourself in a nesting frenzy, driven by an instinctive need to prepare for the baby's arrival. Eris's room, once a bachelor’s retreat with minimalistic decor, transformed under your careful touch. You spent hours arranging and rearranging furniture, making space for a crib beside the bed. The room was soon filled with soft blankets, tiny clothes, and stuffed animals, all ready to welcome the new addition to your family.

Eris supported your efforts wholeheartedly, often surprising you with thoughtful gestures. He would return from his duties with little gifts—a handcrafted mobile, a beautifully woven blanket, a carved wooden toy—each item chosen with care and love. Your evenings were spent together, organizing the baby's things and talking about the future, your shared dreams of the family you were about to become.

Despite the physical challenges of being 38 weeks pregnant, you found joy in the small moments. You would waddle around the room, humming lullabies as you folded and refolded baby clothes, your heart swelling with love every time the baby kicked in response to your voice. Eris would often catch you in these moments, his eyes softening with adoration as he watched you, a smile playing on his lips.

One particularly memorable evening, you decided to decorate the nursery corner you had set up. Eris had brought home a set of delicate, hand-painted stars to hang above the crib, and you both spent hours arranging them just right, laughing and teasing each other as you worked. By the time you finished, the room had a magical feel, the stars twinkling in the soft light, creating a peaceful haven for your baby.

Life was good, better than you had ever imagined it could be. The love between you and Eris grew stronger with each passing day, a bond forged in trust and mutual respect. The baby thrived within you, their movements a constant reminder of the new life you were about to welcome. The forest house, once a place of secrecy and fear, had become a home filled with love and hope.

But even in the midst of this happiness, a shadow lingered, a secret that weighed heavily on your heart.

Each morning began with the soft glow of dawn filtering through the windows of Eris's room, the warmth of his embrace a welcome start to the day. You would rise with the sun, your movements slow and deliberate as you navigated the space, your growing belly a constant reminder of the new life growing within you.

Breakfast was a leisurely affair, spent in the cozy kitchen of the forest house. The cook, a kindly woman with a penchant for indulging your cravings, would greet you with a warm smile as you entered, her apron stained with flour from her morning preparations. You would exchange pleasantries as you made your way to the table, the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread filling the air.

On this particular morning, however, you found yourself with an insatiable craving for something sweet. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you made your way to the kitchens, your footsteps light as you tiptoed down the hallways. The cook greeted you with a knowing smile as you entered, her eyes twinkling with amusement at your predictable craving.

"Good morning, dear," she said, her voice filled with warmth as she bustled about the kitchen, preparing the day's meals. "What can I do for you today?"

You grinned sheepishly, the anticipation of indulging in your favorite treat making your mouth water. "I was hoping you might have some of those honey cakes you made last week," you said, your voice hopeful as you eyed the display of pastries on the counter.

The cook chuckled softly, her laughter like music to your ears. "Ah, I see someone has a sweet tooth this morning," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm afraid we're all out of honey cakes, but I could whip up a batch of cinnamon rolls if you'd like?"

Your face lit up with delight at the suggestion, your stomach rumbling in anticipation. "That sounds perfect, thank you," you said, your voice filled with gratitude as you watched the cook set to work.

As you waited for your treat to bake, you found yourself lost in thought, the warmth of the kitchen and the tantalizing aroma of cinnamon filling you with a sense of contentment. But just as you were about to indulge in your freshly baked cinnamon roll, a voice broke through the tranquility of the moment, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" came a familiar voice from behind you, the sound sending a jolt of panic coursing through your veins. Turning slowly, you came face to face with Lucien, his amber eyes gleaming with amusement as he took in the scene before him.

You froze in place, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. Lucien's presence was unexpected, his sudden appearance sending your carefully constructed facade crumbling to the ground. As he stepped closer, a smirk playing on his lips, you felt a surge of fear wash over you, the weight of your secret threatening to crush you under its weight.

Despite the initial shock of seeing Lucien standing before you, you forced a polite smile onto your lips, masking the turmoil that churned beneath the surface. His presence was unexpected, but you knew that you had to maintain your composure, at least until you could find a way to extricate yourself from the situation.

"Lucien," you greeted him, your voice carefully neutral as you returned his friendly smile. "What a surprise to see you here."

He returned your greeting with a warm smile of his own, his amber eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. "Likewise," he said, his tone light and friendly. "I must say, I didn't expect to find you sneaking into the kitchens for a midnight snack."

You chuckled nervously at his observation, the sound ringing hollow in your ears. "Oh, you know me," you replied, forcing a casual shrug. "I have a bit of a sweet tooth, and I couldn't resist the temptation of the cook's cinnamon rolls."

Lucien laughed softly at your explanation, the sound sending a pang of guilt through your chest. "I can't say I blame you," he said, his expression fond as he looked around the kitchen. "The cook here is quite talented."

As he chatted amiably with you, you found yourself falling into the easy rhythm of conversation, your nerves gradually easing as you exchanged pleasantries. He asked you about your journey to the Autumn Court, his curiosity genuine as he listened intently to your explanations.

You swallowed hard, the weight of your lies heavy on your conscience as you spun a tale of seeking adventure and new experiences, carefully omitting any mention of the true reason for your presence in the palace. You told him about your desire to explore the world beyond the borders of the Spring Court, your words carefully crafted to deflect suspicion and keep your secret hidden.

Throughout the conversation, Lucien treated you with the easy familiarity of an old friend, his warmth and charm putting you at ease despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. He seemed genuinely interested in your story, his questions probing but never invasive as he sought to understand the woman you had become since leaving the Spring Court.

But as you glanced down at the oversized shirt you had borrowed from Eris, the bulge of your growing belly hidden from view, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at your conscience. You knew that you were lying to Lucien, betraying his trust with every false word that passed your lips. But in that moment, with his friendly smile and easy laughter, it was all too easy to push aside your doubts and bury yourself in the comforting embrace of deception.

"So, what brings you back to the Autumn Court, Lucien? Is everything going well with Elain?"

Lucien's expression faltered slightly at the mention of his mate, his gaze flickering with a hint of sadness before he composed himself with a small sigh. "I wish I could say that things were going smoothly," he admitted, his tone tinged with regret. "But truth be told, Elain and I are facing some… challenges."

He went on to explain the difficulties he was encountering in his relationship with Elain, describing her struggles to adjust to life in the Night Court and the walls she had erected to keep him at arm's length. His words were tinged with frustration and sadness, his love for Elain evident in every syllable as he spoke of his desire to break through her defenses and build a life together.

"But it's not just her walls that I'm contending with," he continued, his voice heavy with concern. "There's another complication, another male who has caught her eye." He spoke of the spymaster of the Night Court, a man whose charm and wit had seemingly captivated Elain, drawing her attention away from Lucien and their fledgling relationship.

As he spoke, you could sense the pain and uncertainty that weighed heavily on Lucien's heart, his struggles with Elain's affections a constant source of anguish. Despite his efforts to win her over, it seemed that she was slipping further away with each passing day, her attention diverted by the allure of another man.

You listened sympathetically to his words, your heart aching for the pain he was experiencing. You could see the depth of his love for Elain, the longing in his eyes as he spoke of her, and it struck a chord deep within you. In that moment, you felt a kinship with Lucien, a shared understanding of the complexities of love and the challenges it presented.

"I'm sorry to hear that things are so difficult with Elain," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine concern. "But know that you're not alone, Lucien. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you."

“I appreciate that,” Lucien smiled warmly, reaching over to steal a cinnamon roll from your plate before steering the conversation toward lighter subjects.

You found yourself drawn into the easy camaraderie between you and Lucien, the warmth of his presence a welcome distraction from the turmoil of your own thoughts.

But just as you began to relax into the conversation, a shadow fell over the kitchen doorway, and you turned to see Eris standing there, his expression dark and stormy. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, the tension in the air palpable as he took in the scene before him.

Lucien, ever the picture of charm and grace, greeted his brother with a casual smile, his tone light and teasing as he joked about your supposed dalliance on Calanmai. You felt the color drain from your face at his words, the implication of his jest hanging heavy in the air.

Eris's eyes narrowed at his brother's words, his jaw clenched with barely contained anger. He shot you a long, hard look, his gaze piercing through you like a knife, before turning his attention back to Lucien.

"What are you doing here, Lucien?" Eris asked, his voice cold and clipped as he crossed his arms over his chest. There was a steely edge to his tone, a warning that brooked no argument.

Lucien raised an eyebrow at his brother's question, his expression one of mild confusion. "Just catching up with an old friend," he replied casually, his gaze flickering briefly to you before returning to Eris. "And what about you? What brings you to the kitchens?"

Eris's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before he turned his attention back to Lucien. "I was looking for her," he said curtly, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. "We have matters to discuss."

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. You glanced at Lucien, a silent plea for understanding in your eyes, before rising to follow after Eris, your heart pounding in your chest.

But as you moved to leave, Lucien's voice stopped you in your tracks. "Wait," he said softly, his tone filled with genuine concern. "Is everything alright?"

You turned to face him, your gaze meeting his with a mixture of guilt and apprehension. And it was then, in that moment of quiet vulnerability, that Lucien's eyes fell upon the telltale swell of your belly, hidden beneath Eris's oversized shirt.

His expression softened, a look of dawning realization crossing his features as he took in the sight before him. "You're pregnant," he breathed, his voice filled with wonder and joy. "Congratulations."

You opened your mouth to speak, to correct his assumption and reveal the truth of your situation, but the words caught in your throat. In that moment, with the weight of his gaze upon you and the weight of your secret pressing down on your shoulders, you found yourself unable to speak. And so, with a heavy heart, you simply nodded, a silent confirmation of the lie that now hung between you.

As Eris stormed out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing angrily down the corridor, you felt a surge of panic rising within you. Ignoring the discomfort of your heavily pregnant form, you hurried after him as quickly as you could, leaving Lucien to his own divices the oversized shirt you wore billowing around you as you waddled awkwardly down the hallway.

"Eris, wait!" you called out, your voice strained with desperation as you struggled to keep pace with him. "Please, let me explain!"

But he didn't slow down, his strides long and purposeful as he continued to march ahead, his shoulders tense with pent-up frustration. You quickened your pace, your heart pounding in your chest as you pushed yourself to catch up to him.

"Eris, please," you pleaded, reaching out to grasp his arm in a futile attempt to stop him. "You have to listen to me."

He jerked away from your touch, his expression hardened with anger as he rounded on you, his eyes blazing with fury. "I don't want to hear it," he snapped, his voice sharp and cutting. "I've heard enough lies for one day."

Tears welled in your eyes at his harsh words, the sting of his rejection piercing through you like a knife. But you refused to give up, refused to let him walk away without hearing the truth.

"I'm not lying to you, Eris," you insisted, your voice trembling with emotion. "Please, just give me a chance to explain."

For a moment, he wavered, his gaze flickering with uncertainty as he looked into your tear-filled eyes. But then, with a frustrated sigh, he turned away from you once more, his resolve hardening with each passing second.

"I can't do this right now," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "I need time to think."

But you couldn't let him leave, not like this. "Please, Eris," you implored, your voice breaking with the weight of your desperation. "I'm so sorry for hiding the truth about Lucien from you, but I was scared. I was scared of losing you, scared of what it would mean for us."

His expression twisted with anger and betrayal as he whirled around to face you. "Scared?" he spat, his voice rising with each word. "Scared of what? That I wouldn't accept you? That I wouldn't love you if I knew the truth?"

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you tried to make him understand. "No, it's not that," you sobbed, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't want to burden you with my past. I didn't want to ruin what we have."

"What we have?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And what exactly do we have if it's built on lies?"

"Eris, please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "I love you. I love you so much, and I never wanted to hurt you."

For a moment, he stood there, his chest heaving with the force of his emotions. Then, with a voice trembling with barely contained rage, he asked the question that had haunted him since the day you first met.

"Who is the baby's father?" he demanded, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. "Tell me the truth, now."

You felt the walls closing in around you, the weight of the truth pressing down on you like a vice. With a shuddering breath, you finally gave in, the words tumbling from your lips in a torrent of pain and regret.

"It's Lucien," you sobbed, your voice breaking as you spoke the name. "Lucien is the father."

Eris's face contorted with a mixture of shock and fury, his eyes blazing with a fire you had never seen before. "Lucien?" he repeated, his voice trembling with the force of his anger. "You mean to tell me that my brother is the father of your child?"

"I'm so sorry," you cried, your heart breaking as you saw the pain in his eyes. "I never wanted to hurt you, Eris. Please, you have to believe me. I love you, and I need you. We need you."

He shook his head, his face a mask of anguish as he took a step back, as if trying to distance himself from the reality of your words. "I don't know if I can do this," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I don't know if I can be with you, knowing that your child belongs to Lucien."

"No," you pleaded, reaching out to him with trembling hands. "Please, don't leave me. Don't leave us. I love you, Eris. More than anything in this world."

For a moment, he stood there, torn between the love he felt for you and the betrayal that now threatened to tear you apart. Then, with a voice heavy with resignation, he spoke the words that you had feared most.

"I need time," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "I need time to figure out what this means for us."

As Eris walked away, each step echoing like a death knell, you felt a profound sense of loss and despair wash over you. Your legs gave out, and you collapsed to the floor, the hard stone pressing painfully into your knees. Sobs of agony tore from your throat, each one more heart-wrenching than the last, the sound reverberating through the empty corridor. Your cries were raw, primal, a manifestation of the unbearable pain and heartache consuming you.

"Eris," you choked out between sobs, the name a desperate plea that went unanswered. The world around you blurred as tears streamed down your face, the reality of his departure sinking in like a lead weight in your chest. You felt utterly alone, the emptiness around you a stark contrast to the love and warmth you had shared with him.

Lost in your grief, you didn't hear the footsteps approaching until it was too late. A warm hand touched your shoulder gently, and you looked up through tear-filled eyes to see Lucien kneeling beside you, his expression one of deep concern.

"What happened?" he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine worry. "Are you hurt?"

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, replaced by another wave of sobs. Lucien's eyes flickered with understanding and sympathy as he helped you to your feet, his grip strong and reassuring.

"Come on," he said gently, guiding you with a firm but gentle hand. "Let's get you to the medical wing. We need to make sure you and the baby are okay."

You nodded weakly, allowing him to lead you down the corridor. Your mind was a whirlwind of pain and confusion, each step feeling like an eternity. The journey to the medical wing passed in a blur, the world around you a hazy amalgamation of sounds and shapes.

The healers quickly took you in, their hands skilled and efficient as they checked your knees and examined the baby. Through it all, Lucien stayed by your side, his presence a small comfort in the midst of your turmoil. His eyes were filled with concern, his hand never leaving yours as the healers worked.

"She's okay," one of the healers finally said, her voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. "Just a bit of bruising on the knees. The baby is perfectly healthy."

Relief washed over you, though it was quickly overshadowed by the gnawing pain in your heart. Lucien helped you back to your feet, his touch gentle as he guided you out of the medical wing.

"Let's get you back to your rooms," he said softly, his voice filled with compassion. "You need to rest."

You hesitated, the thought of returning to the room you had left weeks ago filling you with dread. "No," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Eris's room. Across from mine."

Lucien nodded, understanding in his eyes as he led you to Eris's chambers. As you approached the door, a sense of foreboding washed over you. With a trembling hand, you pushed the door open, your heart sinking at the sight that greeted you.

The room was empty. Eris's belongings were gone, the space devoid of any trace of him. It was as if he had never been there at all. You felt a fresh wave of despair crash over you, the reality of his departure hitting you like a physical blow.

"No," you whispered, your voice breaking. "He can't be gone."

Lucien's expression turned grim as he looked around the room, understanding dawning in his eyes. "I'm so sorry," he said softly, his hand squeezing yours in a gesture of support. "I'm so, so sorry."

You sank to your knees once more, the weight of your grief too much to bear. Lucien knelt beside you, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. "We'll get through this," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your shattered heart. "You’re not alone. We'll get through this together."

But even as his words offered a small measure of comfort, you couldn't shake the feeling of profound loss. Eris was gone, and the world felt a little colder, a little darker, without him by your side.

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