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dilftaroooo · 9 months

Note

Request: True form Sukuna claiming his offering in front of her village.

im gonna write this as a drabble :3

★tags/tw: uhh implied cannibalism + cervix fucking + sukuna is pretty misogynistic + fem!reader + discrimination against humans(?) idfk + true form!sukuna + loss of virginity

You delicately sit in the middle of the stage, introducing yourself to the slew of men and women scattered about like spilled salt on a kitchen table. Your legs are spread to present to them your blooming flower--still pink and untouched. It twitches under the many watchful eyes of diverse emotions--horror, confusion, lust, envy. They all poured down on you amid a lethal storm, droplets pounding your skin and soaking you thoroughly. You turn your head to avoid the plethora of wicked gazes. The feeling is overwhelming.

Behind you lies a demon. A great being, an entity that holds more power than anyone close or far. His teeth are sharp, his eyes are beady, and his stomach is hungry for the innocence of a fresh maiden. The people of your village brought you here. They made sure your scent was pleasant and that you were garbed in the cleanest of silk--your uchikake was adorned in floral patterns reminiscent of the trees that bloomed near your home.

They knew you'd be deemed a perfect offering for Sukuna-sama, the King of Curses--you're a sweet girl with a pure body, your breasts are full and your thighs are plump. They were sure if their King ever grew bored of you, he could easily dispose of your youthful frame by savoring your flesh and keeping your skull as a precious souvenir. Innocents always taste sweeter than most.

Though your legs were spread, they weren't spread enough for Sukuna as he already gripped your thighs with a strict pressure you weren't unfamiliar with. The squelch that leaves your pussy parts as he further widens your limbs was a sound everyone managed to capture. You're wet and slimy and maybe somewhat aroused. Your King is an attractive beast with a chiseled chin and a beguiling grin. Intricate, onyx lines surface the apex of his taut muscles and the sight makes you clench around thin air. You ponder on what he'd look like if he were a mere human such as yourself.

"All of you!" He starts, his voice booms through the premises and you're surprised by how powerful the echo is despite not being in an enclosed space. As expected, everyone gears their eyes toward the four-armed monster in preparation for his next words. "I want you mortal freaks to watch me fuck this girl you were so kind to offer me. If it hadn't been for this young duckling I would've already slaughtered this putrid village and watched my militia of curses swallow you whole."

He's quick for his size as he brings you onto his hefty lap, and from there you already feel one of his cocks coat itself against your wet slit. He's huge and lingering at the back of your mind, you wonder if you would die at first thrust. His tip is an angry red, livid from the languid teasing performed by its heaving owner from rubbing it across the length of your weeping cunt. It isn't long before his playful ministrations are seduced into slamming inside you.

You weren't even spared a moment of reconsideration for your hymen was already snapped into two, disintegrating upon impact. It would have been a shame to experience your deflowering with a prominent tummy bulge if it wasn't for how much your mind and soul revere the beast overlapping your weak presence.

You were his and he was his own as he violently hammered himself down to the hilt. You bathed him in the blood of a former virgin while he hits that bruised cervix within you. Your back is against that sculpted chest you worship dearly and his sweat rubs off on you is strong with his pheromones.

"Sukuna-sama," You mewl because he's so deep in your pussy that you can't fight back the urge to call out his name. He responds with a finger to your clit and a hand on your breast, making it his duty to circle a thick finger around your nipple.

"I don't remember granting you permission to speak now, did I?" His tone is dark enough to make you believe you've done something utterly wrong but your apology comes out in a series of wanton moans. He chuckles at how the pathetic always act so miserably.

"But since you're clasping around me so tightly," Burgundy red orbs glare at the side of your left cheek, previously moistened with tears of pain and gratitude. "I'll let your sheer idiocracy go. I don't think any of the past wenches you humans throw at me grip my dick this hard. I assume they were used up til they were nothing but a gaping hole." Then he frowns.

"They must think poorly of me."

Sukuna cherishes the screams rushing out of your throat as you take him inch by overbearing inch, stretching you out to accommodate his length and girth. You're nothing but his plaything.

You practically forget the crowd casted in front of you once you hear subdued chattering coming from multiple voices, all laced with different tones with different perceptions. You feel like a common whore.

Throughout, Sukuna never kissed you. He believes he should not taste the lips of a revolting human for it'll taint his palate. He just fucks into you as you bounce like some ragdoll abandoned by a little girl. But if life has fated you with the opportunity to become Sukuna's, your King's, toy, then may you not change the inevitable.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna x reader #tw:cannibalism

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chiscaralight · 17 days

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Scara with tentacles 😳

i had to drop EVERYTHING LMFAO i usually answer requests in the order i got them but i need to write this with immediate effect. I LOVE IT

nsfw scara x reader. he has tentacles lol. they're also really strong, and long. double penetration!!! the tentacles kinda have their own lube🤸🏾‍♀️

scaramouche almost looks bored, save for the way his cock is straining against his pants. he's seated at the foot of the bed, leaning back on both arms as he watches you writhe just a little bit above the ground.

your hands are bound together behind your back by a single, cool tentacle. your legs were free before, but you were kicking a little too much for his liking. so he has them held firmly apart.

you can’t even begin to fathom how you got like this. he was so embarrassed when he originally told you. he couldn’t even meet your gaze! but now, he’s smiling sultrily at you, eyes locked on yours as another slimy tendril drags between your soaked thighs.

and even though it brings him great joy to watch you squirm, it’s much more fun to actually get to touch you with his own hands. he sets you down, and you’ve almost lost all the feeling in your legs. he’s quick to support you, pushing your back flat against his chest. he resumes his space on the bed, only this time with you in his lap. your legs are shaking, and he’s trying to hide his laugh against your skin as you whine for him to fuck you already.

you said that having the tentacles was no problem before, so how about he fucks you with them? the wet feeling has you writhing against him before it settles right above your dripping slit. you give him a single unsure nod, and he's pushing into you slowly. the noise you let out is confused and heavy, but it doesn't take long for you to settle. the combination of his erection grinding against the swell of your ass with the unfamiliar wiggling inside of you has you writhing hard. your hands are fisted against your sides, as he presses wet kisses against your neck. your mind is a mess, drool falling from your lips as the sharp tip of the tendril is brushing against every single part of your walls. its so overwhelming, this is all so new! you can't even help the tears that start to fall. his free hand is wiping at your tears. you're doing so good for him, yeah? how about you try something else?

you'll be the first to admit you are a little disappointed to let him switch up like that. regardless of how overwhelming it was, you didn't want it to stop! but he's brushing those thoughts out of your head with a harsh kiss on your lips. you can feel his cockhead starting to bully into your soaked cunt and you're gripping hard against his wrist once he starts to move. it's the feeling of the tentacle struggling to worm back into your cunt that has your eyes rolling back into your skull.

the stretch is so good that you're trying so hard to push him away, but his free tendrils are pinning your arms down. he's alternating between the tentacle and his cock, pushing one in while he drags the other out, but never fully drawing out of you. and once the pointed tips of the others are snaking to wrap around your nipples? it's game over. after such a violent orgasm full of shakes and cries you cant remember, you're knocked out! if scaramouche didn't know any better, he'd think you'd have seized and died. but his demeanor is relaxed as he scoops you up in his many helpful tentacles as he makes his way to the bathroom to clean you up.

#genshin impact smut #genshin smut #gi smut #chiscaralight requests #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scara smut #scara x reader #chiscaralight

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inkykeiji · 4 months

Text

⋆₊˚⊹♡ alastor + asking to ride him

character: alastor warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem!reader, heavy pet/master dynamic, use of Master and Sir, toxic relationship (alastor is mean!), overstimulation, dacryphilia, use of pet as a term of endearment and degradation, minimal prep words: 3.4k

notes: whew!!! this ended up being waaay longer than intended ehehe but!! once again exploring riding alastor and all of the fun that comes along with it. pls enjoy and as always heed the warnings!

It’s late when you appear in the threshold of his bedroom door, lip caught unsurely between your teeth and gaze veiled by thick lashes. Sock-clad toes overlap, toes wiggling unsurely as your fingers twist into a knot in front of your body.

He sits across the room in one of his plush armchairs, legs crossed and attention focused on the book in his hands, casting you a single, second long disinterested glance as he asks, what is it, sweetheart?

“Can I—Can I ride your cock?”

Crimson eyes flick up from the pages, interest piqued, steadily holding your stare over the edge of the novel. Your features twist in a cute little wince, eyes squinting against the intensity of his gaze, but you don’t dare to look away, baring yourself to him.

His scrutiny burns, tears your skin from your bones and gouges your eyes from your skull, pries apart your ribs one by one and rips into muscle, ravenous to reach your core.

And all the while you let him, quivering form standing vulnerable and raw in front of him, offering to him, as his unblinking stare combs over your entire body—from the top of your head to the tip of your toes, unhurried and invasive, climbing back up to reach your face, eyes lidded with indifference.

Finally, he shrugs a shoulder, muttering out a nonchalant, “Hm. I suppose so,” through a contradicting slimy smile.

But when you scamper over to him, so cute, so eager, so fucking pathetic, ready to straddle his lap, he informs you that you’ll have to do all of the work on your own.

You’re the one who wants it, after all. Why should he have to put in any of the effort?

You suppose he has a point. Either way, it makes no difference to you, dropping to your knees the very instant he informs you, body wedged between his spread legs as dainty fingers creep up his thighs, muscles tensing with the ghost of a shiver as your touch skims over them.

They don’t undo his pants—they don’t even make it to the fucking zipper, opting to cup his soft cock in one palm and his balls in the other, rolling and rubbing in a gentle circular motion.

And his legs spread infinitesimally wider.

An invitation, a silent urge to keep going.

So you do, like the obedient little pet girlfriend you are, watching with glazed eyes and gaping pupils as his cock fills with blood beneath your teasing touch, twitching to life, hot and hard in your little hands.

Grinding the heel of your hand into it, it jerks in response, a playful little giggle dripping from your lips, two fingers stroking the shaft, then pressing slow, hard circles into the head.

And, oh, aren’t you just fucking precious, nuzzling your cheek into it adoringly, breathing out a devoted oh, Master, so airy and melting on your tongue, dense and hot and soaking through his trousers.

“Fuck,” he pants out, the curse nothing more than a wispy murmur.

Looking up at him, you run your tongue over the head in hard, slow laves, dragging the slick muscle along his straining cock, the flames from the fireplace flickering in your bleary eyes, licking at desirous pupils.

The cotton is rough against your tongue, abrading your sensitive tastebuds and leaving tingles in their place, but you don’t care, administering heavy rhythmic licks along his shaft, long and languid.

His cock throbs under your lapping, another one of those silent persuasions, and you nestle into it again, your own nonverbal response, rubbing the tip of your nose into the slit and smearing a dewy drop of pre-cum across your skin. Another dollop oozes through his trousers, pearly and glittering, eager to replace what’s been lost.

The garnish incentivizes you, entices you, and you press an open-mouthed kiss to the yearning head, lips curling around it in a warm, damp embrace, and then sucking slightly, siphoning another drop of that sticky salt to seep onto the slick muscle.

It’s delicious, his essence, so acrid it stings your sensitive skin, copper and decay painting over your tastebuds in thick streaks, each rub depositing another ropy line.

A moan vibrates around the head, and your tongue glides over it firm and fast, desperate to encourage more of the bitter substance, eager for another taste of his seed. Your lips pucker as the force of your suction increases, slicked and glittering with your own sick drool, viscous and pooling at the corners of your mouth to trickle down your chin, tinted slightly milky.

“Hungry, are we?”

Another sound of obscenity gurgles past your lips, head nodding in messy strokes, as if you’re drunk off merely a few drops of pre-cum.

“Maybe you don’t need to ride Master after all.”

Your motions freeze, the haze his taste had cast over your brain instantly eradicated, tongue mid-lick as your lidded gaze drifts back to his, wide and terrified.

An eyebrow quirks, the smug arrogance smeared across his face stretching, daring you to retaliate.

“N-No,” you mumble against him, body starting to tremble between his knees, fingers scrabbling against his thighs. “No, Sir, please, I—I want it—”

A heavy palm smooths over your hair, thumb caressing the crown of your head in a manner that feels almost condescending before thin fingers tangle in your strands, hard, yanking and pulling your face up, dense strings of saliva slapping against your chin.

“You have it,” he says, a gleeful malice glinting in his irises, smile spreading wider to reveal razored teeth. “You just want more.”

Shifting his hips up in a small jerking thrust, he nudges your chin with his clothed cock, cotton soaked all the way through with your spit, a smudge of pre-cum shimmering at the tip.

“Do you think you could get off on just this? Sucking me off through my pants like some desperate little bitch?”

You could, you’re nodding, nose twitching as you swallow the sob clawing at your throat. You could, but you really don’t want to.

“Yes, but—I want to ride it so bad, Master—Need to feel it inside of me, Master, need your thick cock fill—filling me up!” you hiccup on a sob, pleading. “Please, let me ride it, Master. I need—need—”

“Need, huh? Is that so?” he hums. “I’m not entirely convinced. You seem quite content with simply suckling on it through my pants, swallowing mere drops of pre-cum,” he tilts his head in mock thought, eyes glittering, “but I guess it doesn’t take too much to satisfy a whore like you.”

And it’s true, you do seem content with such scant amounts, keenly siphoning another dewy drop of precursory pleasure onto your tongue, rolling the drenched muscle over his cockhead slow and purposeful, a soft moan vibrating in your throat as it pulses beneath your mouth again, dribbling more syrup.

“No, no, Sir—Master—please, let me ride it!”

Oh, how pathetically precious you are, gazing up at him with glazed eyes, tears perilously balancing along your lash line, fat droplets of crystal clinging stubbornly to pretty black wisps—one single blink would send them cascading down.

Alastor’s brows raise. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t be content with just this?”

Sharp glints of sadism flare in his eyes, impossibly wide smile twitching as it tugs up at the edges.

“My, my, what a greedy little pet I’ve got myself.”

“No!” you cough, spitting out the denial so fast it tangles on your tongue. “No, no, not at all, sir.”

“No?”

“No,” you repeat, head shaking with vehemence. “I will be satisfied with whatever Master will give me.”

You recite the statement dutifully, but the painful sincerity ringing in your voice clear and high indicates that it’s authentic nonetheless.

“And?”

“And I will be thankful for it,” you breathe out, blinking up at him obediently, the words an oath on your tongue, twin streams of salt shimmering on your cheeks attesting to their veracity.

Crimson beams down on you, smile smeared across his face wide but close-lipped, indifference lidding his unrelenting gaze, contradicted by the sheer power glowing brightly in his irises.

He holds your eyes for a bit—stretches the moment, lets it linger, lets the desperation grow, lets you marinate in it—before he finally murmurs out good girl, the praise packaged with a patronizing but much-appreciated pat to the head.

You don’t dare move, though, your stare staying entrapped in his own, body rigid and motionless as it awaits a direct order, pliable putty in his palms.

“Now,” he says in a calm breath. “Get on my cock.”

Finally, permission.

It has your body bolting like a flash of lightning, set alight by a handful of such simple words, snapped into action by his demand.

Then you’re clambering into his lap, avid fingers popping the button and tugging the zipper and pulling his cock free from its confines, massive and heavy in your soft palms.

A tender noise sounds in your throat, something caught between awe and desire, and you can’t help but grind on it a little, head gliding over your swollen clit easily. Your juices glaze his shaft, leaving a pretty glimmering film coating his veiny skin.

Your cunt isn’t properly prepped, but that doesn’t really matter (it’s your own fault, anyway, for spending too much time worshipping his cock), slit already slicked and dripping with arousal—so fucking easy, you are for him; so fucking wet you are, all from barely touching his cock—that he slides in fluidly enough, one of your hands wrapped around the base steadying him as you sink down on his cock.

A grunt stutters in his throat, half-stifled by his wide, closed-lipped smile, harmonizing with your low whine of pain as your cute little hole stretches, splits, struggles to swallow him whole in one slow gulp.

But it strains around his girth ardently, delicate skin tearing into tiny stinging fissures as your sweet cunt gorges on him, salivating and voracious.

You always manage, every single time, no matter how much it burns, because then he’s bottoming out, head of his cock pressed snugly against your cervix. Your hips shift in little experimental ruts, grinding the tip into the sensitive mound of tissue and whimpering.

A hiss slithers through clenched teeth, your whole face screwing up in pain as your cute cunt flutters around him. A dull ache begins to simmer deep in the pit of your belly, a small palm instinctively pressing to your gut, whining a bit when you feel him, burrowing into the tissues from the inside out.

“Does that hurt?”

“Uh—Uh-huh,” you gasp out, eyes still scrunched shut tightly, head nodding in tight, tense little motions.

“Tell me.”

“It hurts, Alastor,” you mewl, lids lifting to stare at him, to show him the agony simmering in your irises, fresh tears beading your lashes, teetering precariously on the points.

Arrogance softens his features—that smug satisfaction dimming the glint in his eye and the edges of his smile—and his gazes falls from yours, refocusing on the worn novel he had been reading before you so rudely interrupted with your neediness.

That’s your cue to begin.

You’ve become fairly proficient at using him as a toy, fingers curling around the plush top of the armchair, palms planted on either side of his head for leverage and stability as your hips begin to rock—slow, almost shyly at first; hesitant, cautious, testing.

But you can never keep that up for long, far too eager to allow the build-up of that delicious tension, far too greedy to not chase after the immediate high, vying and ravenous and entirely addicted, unable to grant yourself more than a handful of moments to savour it, desperate to fuck him like some sort of wild, primal animal.

It’s what he loves most about you—your fervour.

Your fervour to obey, your fervour to cum all over him, your fervour for whatever part of him he will so graciously gift you—his cock, his cum, his attention, his discipline; it doesn’t matter which it is, it’s all the same to you. Him. Any part of him, every part of him.

And even though he always makes you do all of the work, riding him is your favourite.

Because the best part about riding Alastor isn’t even getting to cum—it’s getting to watch him cum; clear and sharp and so, so beautiful.

No blurry tears to obstruct your vision, no hair curtaining his face as he folds you in on yourself and pounds you into oblivion, no involuntary scrunches of your lids snapping shut in excruciating pain, just his face, open and accessible, expression entirely unadulterated.

Pure.

The pleasure smashes through his facades, through all of his pretences and carefully crafted masks, leaving him wholly unfiltered, raw, real.

It’s the closest to authentic that you ever get. That you’ll ever get.

But the fact that he allows you to orchestrate it, the fact that he allows you to witness him in such a vulnerable and personal state? Well, that’s something special to you. That’s what makes this position the best.

It’s a difficult feat to get him there, to have his cock throbbing and filling you, hot and sticky and so, so much, without the use of violence or sadism, but you manage.

Because there’s just one other thing that works: Power.

Angling your hips just right, you fuck yourself with his cock, rolling the head over that plush spot, fleshy and engorged deep within you, assaulting it harsh and fast, just like he usually does.

“Sir, Sir, Sir,” you’re chanting out in time with the gyrations of your hips, eyes glassy and shining with devotion.

“Hm?” An eyebrow raises, disinterested, gaze refusing to leave the pages in front of his face.

“Thank you, Sir,” you gush, words flowing in an appreciative stream. “Th-Thank you for allowing me to ride you.”

His eyes flick up for a moment, clear and sharp, holding your own, a question imbued in the subtle motion.

“It—It’s so good, Master,” you answer in a whine, staring at him with such stark sincerity it almost hurts, irises twinkling. “Your cock feels so g-good!”

Pomposity polishes his features, lidding his eyes and curling his smile.

“Yes,” he hums out, stare returning to his book. “You are quite a privileged little girl.”

“I am, I am,” you agree with vehemence, voice tapering into a whine. “I’m so lucky, Master.”

“And yet, you are still a greedy little brat.”

“Can’t help it,” you moan. “I jus—I jus’ can’t get enough of it, Master; of you, Master.”

His hips jerk slightly—a barely-there motion, something you’d never notice if you didn’t know to look for it—and you whimper loudly, bouncing accelerating, his little movement a non-verbal demand to ride him harder, to fuck him faster, to give him more.

And you happily oblige. Even when his orders are silent, written inconspicuously in the shift of his pelvis, you still instantly obey.

God, he’s got you trained so well.

You can see it engulfing him, this potent power he holds over you, ultimate and absolute. Authority cloaks his shoulders, the glow in his eyes glaring bright, his chest puffing out just a touch as his spine straightens.

“I know you can’t, pet,” he says, arrogance wispy in his tone, brimming with a type of hedonistic pride. “It will never be enough for my selfish little girl, will it?”

No, no, no, your head is shaking, compliments pouring from your mouth, encased in thick strings of drool.

“I—I love it s’much, Master,” you’re babbling, half-delirious, hips gaining speed with each rock forward. “Love your cock so much!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” your head nods, loose and slack, words slurring a little. “Feels so good, Sir; feels the best, Sir.”

“The best, huh?”

“The best, the best, the absolute best—Better than any cock I’ve ever ridden in this life and every other.”

“F-Fuck,” he breathes out, static eradicated from his voice, leaving it raw, naked. “Even without Master doing anything, it’s still the best.”

“Still the best,” you confirm. “Still my favourite.”

A half-stifled groan sounds in his throat, something he tries to swallow down, something that refuses to be silenced, pleasure clawing at the back of his tongue.

The burn in your thighs intensifies as your pace increases, muscles flexing and gliding beneath your skin, your lungs stinging with each ragged inhale, chest heaving with your uneven gulps.

“Fills me up so perfectly,” you continue, words fading into an airy mewl, high and needy. “Better than anyone else ever could, ever can, ever will.”

“You’re goddamn fuckin’ right,” he growls out, and even though his eyes are framed by heavy lids, his irises are incandescent, power staining them a radiant blood red, deeper and darker than normal, gaping and starved. “No one but your Owner could ever make you feel like this.”

Your head moves in frantic motions—yes, yes, yes!—fingers curling over the top of his armchair, nails scraping against the upholstery and leaving shredded little gouges in their wake.

“No one compares, Alastor—No one could ever, ever compare!”

“Christ,” he nearly whines, the curse shattering at the end as his hips stutter up—involuntary, instinctive.

Three more grinds over that plush spot, hard and fast and rough, and then you’re convulsing in his lap, cute little cunt clenching almost violently around his cock—a desperate plead of sorts, begging him for his cum; please, Master, give it to me, please, Master, I want it so bad!

The words fall from your mouth in a tangled stream, fucked sloppily from your throat as your hips continue to buck, each swipe of your clit over his slick pubic bone forcing another vicious ripple of chills to shudder through your form.

It hurts, body shocked with erratic jolts of overstimulation, but you don’t dare stop, drops of sweat sprouting across your skin, tiny jewels strung along your hairline and adorning your temples, jagged little yelps slipping past your gritted teeth.

And it’s your dedication that finally sends him tumbling over the edge, your borderline religious commitment to ensuring his pleasure even at the expense of your own, book falling from his palms and fingers digging into your flesh as his hips jackhammer up.

Two merciless pumps of his cock before he’s spilling into you, giving you exactly what you’re sobbing for, stuffing your little cunt full of his seed until it can’t take anymore, until it’s too much, until it’s seeping past the tight seal of his shaft to dribble down his balls in thick dollops of cream—and more, Alastor, more, more, gimme more!, your thighs tensing on either side of him as your little hole constricts purposefully, desperate to milk him for every last drop, the rolling of your hips turned ravenous, ruthless.

“Fuck, fuck,” he’s hissing, claws piercing your hips as he forces you to stop, little trickles of crimson oozing from the tiny punctures. “S’enough.”

“S’never enough,” you whine dreamily as your body slumps forward, head buried in his shoulder, little tongue lapping up droplets of dewy sweat in kittenish licks.

“You really are such a spoiled little pet,” he says, but his voice is gentle, a palm petting the back of your head.

A hum vibrates on the back of your tongue and you nuzzle your face further into his damp neck, tongue flattening against his skin and following the curve down to his sharp collarbone, lips latching over one of the protruding knobs and sucking.

“Can’t help it,” you sigh out, muffled, the words humid and slick on his skin. “It really is my favourite thing in the whole world, Sir. I adore you.”

The tender confession beads along his neck, your hot breath turned to tiny droplets of condensation, and he sighs, the tension coiled in his muscles beginning to ebb. His limbs unwittingly melt into your own as he rests his chin on the crown of your head, quivering hands retrieving his book and finding his previous page.

When he speaks again, his voice is soft, so quiet you nearly miss it—would’ve missed it, had you not felt the words rumble in his throat.

“I adore you, too.”

More than he wants to. More than he should. More than he could ever adequately express.

#alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin smut #alastor headcanons #inky.alastor #inky.hazbin

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hannie-dul-set · 5 months

Text

AN UNLIKELY FANMEETING.

p — LEE JENO x female! reader. g — gang leader! jeno, actress! reader, humor, tension tension tension, jeno gets kidnapped by his celebrity crush, this is stupid, this is dumb, don't take this seriously. w — swearing, kidnapping, morally dubious characters HAHHAHA. 935 words.

note — happy birthday jeno. to the anon that sent the trope list curated for me, this is your fault. take responsibility. the prompt "accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss" suddenly terrorized my brain while i was studying. enjoy.

when lee jeno opens his eyes, a dull ringing in his ears, he sees nothing but the faint impression of a lightbulb burning through the sack covering his head. it’s dark. there’s an echo when he grunts and tries to move, but upon feeling the rope pressed against his wrists, the stiffness of his shoulders and the metal scratching of the chair against the rough ground— he’s quick to understand the situation he’s in.

the last thing he remembers, he was about to board a plane to japan. to spend a few months lying low after the particularly risky job his gang had to undertake not too long ago.

seems like someone managed to sniff him out before he could flee.

splash!

“wake up, you slimy son of a bitch.”

cold water hits, seeping into the fabric covering his face and crawling down to his collarbones. now, considering his line of work, jeno isn’t too fazed by this situation. he has a lot of enemies. maybe this one’s from a rival gang. could be a relative seeking revenge for a brother’s cracked skull, or some shit. doesn’t matter. he’s not gonna stay sitting for long anyway.

“did you really think you could cheat on me and run away scot free?”

cheat? the sack gets thrown off from his head, a hand yanking a handful of his hair to pull his head back and he lets out a grunt. the chair is tipped back. jesus fucking christ, that felt personal. but when the sudden illumination stops blinding him, and he can finally see who the hell had the guts to jump and kidnap him, he’s a little taken aback.

jeno has a lot of enemies. the list goes on and on.

“use your fucking mouth, bast—”

but he’s pretty sure that the darling angel of south korea’s film industry isn’t on that list.

jeno watches as the vivid scorn and disgust in your eyes slowly meld into confusion, then realization, then a slow but sure descent into panic alongside the loosening of your grip.

“oh.”

must be the skills of an award winning actress. he feels almost a hint of disappointment when you stop pulling on the roots of his damp hair.

“oh, shit. one moment.”

clang! the chair he’s tied to settles once more into the ground with a clatter, and jeno watches as you quickly secure a distance between you and him, pulling your phone out of your sweats while biting the tips of your thumbnail. it’s a little funny seeing the nation’s sweetheart pacing back and forth all jittery in what looks like a basement— maybe your basement. as far as jeno can remember, you’re always casted for romance films. those feel-good, slice of lives and the pocari sweat commercial you once did echoes in the back of his head. but maybe you have a hidden knack for some thriller.

he starts fiddling with the ropes tied around his wrists right at the moment you screech into your phone. dispatch would have a field day if they see this.

“you got the wrong guy! my ex isn’t this hot!”

his fingers slip. his skin scratches the rough threads of the rope.

“i paid you useless fucks a shit ton of money to get the job done, but you can’t even get— ugh! nevermind. just go and bring me the actual son of a bitch i asked for this time.”

the knot is almost loose. this is quite the show. it’s better than all the movies he’s seen of you.

“what?! hello?! what do you mean you can’t help me anymore, what about our—”

drop. jeno gets up from the chair. he stretches his joints, neck cracking, watching as you sputter out a trove of profanities at your phone. his clothes are still damp from the water you splashed him earlier. maybe he should have a bit of fun first before leaving. it’s not everyday that you get to meet your celebrity crush.

“hey, dollface,” he calls out. you freeze. you look at him with the drop of a needle, eyes growing a little bit wider when you realize he should be sitting down. damn, they really need to cast you in a grittier film. “you should pay a bit more attention when you have someone hostage.”

a beat of silence.

“uhm,” your voice croaks. jeno takes a step towards you. you take a step back. “listen, haha, there has been a misunderstanding.”

your steps stutter a little, moving back and back and you swallow nervously, looking at him with almost sheepishly— a sense of feigned bravery in the midst of retreat, teeth tugging on the skin of your lips. “oh, yeah?” he says, and you visibly rattle. you’re prettier like this than when you’re batting your eyes and flirting at the camera. you’re definitely prettier.

“yes, ahaha, there was a minor switch-up, you see i— i didn’t mean to...uh, escort you from the airport, i actually meant to target someone else, and— o–oh, and there’s a wall behind me. oops, haha. do you mind backing away a bit, um—”

“how about i help you with the ex boyfriend problem you have?”

the tables turn. it’s him digging his face up against yours this time, but the mention of your ex strikes a chord. you’re looking at him, gaze unbreaking. he can feel your shallow breaths on his skin.

“who are you exactly?”

“someone who can do the job better that the fuckers you sent me, definitely,” he chuckles. “how about it?”

he won’t ask for much. maybe just an autograph in return.

AN UNLIKELY FANMEETING. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

#jeno x you #lee jeno x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream x you #nct dream sc #nct dream scenarios #nct sce #nct scenarios #jeno x reader #nct drabbles #nct au #jeno au #this is not proofread btw fuck it we ball!!!

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chaotic-minds-think-alike · 9 months

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Slugcats but they’re .. man idk

Before I get into the headcanons on each slugcat, I'm going to detail how this design works without making a huge spec bio post like I've done before: Similar to my lizard design, slugcats share a common ancestry with them. Though they're more squishy and flexible, the lizards have gained similar traits such as mantles and powerful tails. Slugcats are slimy and at most, tough and leathery, with only small hairs called setae if you want to count that as fur. They have 4 mantles down their back and a thick patch of skin similar on their throat with four more protecting each limb. They have 4 antennae, the frontal tending to be long and slim and the rear tending to be club shaped. They lack any structure besides a chitinous "skull" underneath the extra skin on their heads where they house 3 beaks lined side by side and are covered by the extra skin to form lips. The extra skin is also used in to create false eyelids, allowing them to communicate with facial features. All slugcats may have a set size but can constrict and extend however they want, appearing larger or smaller than originally anticipated. And now individual headcanons:

Survivor & Monk: - both have injuries from the fall, head injury for survivor is based off a friend’s hc

Hunter: - self injury scars from trying to remove the rot cysts (hc from a friend) - due to formation on face, their lips cannot fully close

Gourmand: - tiny antennae - thick mantles

Artificer: - extra skin behind the head becomes large explosive saliva glands (appears to be an additional mantle) - appearance is due to being born in a toxic environment - face injury results in unable to close lips properly, loss of frontal and rear antenna, and deformation of eye

Rivulet: - single mantle - tail can flatten and form a wavy texture similar to arti’s arms to create a fin - pseudopupils - rear antennae are limbs covered in respiratory hairs

Saint: - leathery skin similar to that of a lizard’s, cannot close eyes due to this - long and very flexible frontal antennae - several pseudopupils and iridescent eyes

Spearmaster: - long by nature, however, cannot constrict their tail that much - extra skin on face was shrunk and beaks fused together - pseudopupils - spikes all over to ward off attackers, though the thinner spines are flexible

#myart #rainworld #rain world #rainworld slugcat #rain world slugcat #rainworld survivor #rainworld monk #rainworld hunter #rainworld gourmand #rainworld artificer #rainworld rivulet #rainworld saint #rainworld spearmaster #rainworldbuilding

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jakexneytiri · 8 months

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Same anon asking for more dad!neteyam x reader + babies - can we have them learning about their mom being pregnant again and learning about having a new sibling. Or maybe hunting lessons with grandma and grandpa. Whichever one inspires you!

how about both! well, sorta. i’m gonna post what i have written for this so far, and if you are all interested in the fishing scene, i’ll post that too :) thank you for all of your support!! 🥰

⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰

morning sickness wasn’t something you were fond of. it had you up in the early hours of the morning, doubled over with a carved wooden bowl in your hands. the remnants of some bladder polyps you had neteyam fetch in the middle of the night had made their way up your throat and into the bowl. “i’m never eating another one of those again.” you thought to yourself, trying to focus on anything besides the slimy, green goop in the bowl in front of you.

neteyam was sound asleep for a couple hours, but the sound of your heaving woke him up instantly.

“my love?” he questions, sitting up beside you as his large hand runs down the length of your spine. “why did you not wake me sooner?” as he rises to his feet, he grabs the bowl from you, heading outside your marui to discard its current contents.

“oh, i’m sorry, i was a little busy ridding my body of my late night snack. i don’t think our little one likes bladder polyps very much.” you reply in a snarky tone, laying back down to curl up on your sleeping mat in a fetal position.

neteyam sighs, as he grabs a bowl of fresh water for you to sip on. he carefully hands it to you, settling next to you.

“no more bladder polyps, then.” he nods, gently rubbing your back again. a few moments of silence pass, before his ears perk up at the sounds of your sniffling. he sits up immediately, tugging at your shoulder to examine your face.

“why are you crying?” confusion is plastered all over neteyam’s face, searching for the reason you’re so upset.

“i don’t want the children to see me like this. i have no appetite, and they wanted me to take them hunting today, and i-” you cry out, throwing your arms around your mate as you sob into his bare chest.

“shhh, shhhhh. it is all right, my love. do not worry. i will page for my mother and father to take them hunting. they’ll love to spend time with them today. do you want me to call for them now?” neteyam glances outside through the open flap of your marui, knowing it’s a bit early, even for village life to start.

you nod into his chest, sniffling hard as you cling to him. “yes….please. before the children wake.”

“shhh.” his large hand brushes over your hair, smoothing it gently. “i’ll send for them now.”

neteyam raises his other hand to his throat comm, and with a click of a button, you can hear your father in law’s voice through your mate’s earpiece.

“son, clearly someone must be sick, injured, or dying for you to be paging me this early in the goddamn morning. which is it?” jake snaps, though his voice has a tinge of grogginess to it. he was never a morning person as a human, and it certainly didn’t change when he became na’vi.

you hated to interrupt your in laws, especially when he was your olo’eyktan, with his own duties to tend to. your ears pin back against your skull as you bow your head, ashamed.

“dad, it’s y/n. she’s not feeling well. this….pregnancy is taking a toll on her.”

“ah, shit.” jake grumbles on the other line, and you can envision him rubbing his hand over his face, as he does when he’s stressed. “she okay now? want me to send your mother over to help?” jake’s voice has a tinge of worry to it as you hear your mother in law’s voice speaking to jake, mumbling something you can’t make out.

“actually, i was hoping you and mom would be able to watch the children for a bit. they wanted y/n to take them hunting today, but i think that’s out of the question for her. at least until she’s better.” neteyam continues to run his hand along your hair, trying his best to calm you as he speaks with his father.

“give us fifteen and we’ll be over soon.” the line clicks, and you’re left with the guilty conscience of your in-laws covering for you. again.

“they will be here soon. do you want to try drinking more water?” neteyam asks gently, still cradling you in his arms.

you sigh, sitting up to shake your head. “it’s not right, nete. i cannot ask this of them. they have their own duties to tend to, it’s wrong of me to-”

neteyam cuts you off right then and there. “-yawne, you do know they are their own person, capable of making their own decisions. my mother and father adore you, and they are more than happy to help. our family is more important to them than their daily village tasks. you know they’ll take any excuse to see the children. they love them. now please, don’t fret. they’ll be over soo-”

neteyam’s voice is drowned out by a shriek from your youngest daughter.

“GWANDPA!!!” nima squeals, running over to the front of your marui where jake and neytiri now stand.

“shhhh, shhhh babygirl! you’re gonna wake the whole village.” jake chuckles lightly, taking a knee to open his arms wide for her.

nima runs straight into them, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck and kissing the tip of his nose. “why hewe, gwandpa?” she asks, confused as to why her grandparents were here so early in the morning.

“no way! grandpa and gramma are here!!” txonuk says happily, nudging se’ayl and tsantu awake.

“we’re takin’ you guys on a little huntin’ trip today.” jake explains, as neytiri kneels down to hug se’ayl, txonuk, and tsantu.

“but, i thought momma was taking us?” txonuk says, confused as he glances over to the drape that closes off the space where you and neteyam sleep during the night.

“your sa’nu [mommy] needs to rest. she is not feeling well.” neytiri gently explains to them, as neteyam slips through the drape.

“thank you for coming.” he says quietly, walking over to give his mother a hug, and his father a handshake.

“dad? is momma okay?” txonuk asks, tugging on neteyam’s loincloth.

“mama will be fine, don’t you worry about her, okay? come, let’s get your bows.” neteyam suggests, as jake and neytiri walk with him to where the bows are stored.

“which one’s yours, nima baby? is it……this one?” jake asks, holding up your bow.

nima bursts in a fit of giggles, thinking grandpa’s the funniest na’vi she’s ever met. “noooooooooo, gwandpa! that’s mama’s! you siwwy.”

jake chuckles and sets your bow back in its place. “is ittt…..this one?” jake holds up txonuk’s bow now.

“nooooooo! that ‘nuk’s bow!” nima giggles a bit more, shaking her head no multiple times.

“hey! that’s my bow, grandpa!” txonuk says, pointing to nima’s mini bow hanging up toward the end of the wall. “this one’s nimas!”

jake chuckles again as he hands txonuk his bow, rustling his curls before grabbing nima’s bow. “this one’s yours?”

“yea, yea!” nima says happily, taking the bow and holding it to her chest tightly, hugging the object.

“come, children. we must head out now, this is when payoang [fish] are most active.” neytiri urges, gently guiding them to the front of the marui.

“here nima, go to daddy for a sec. i’m gonna check on your mama, okay?” jake says, handing her off to neteyam.

“daddyyy!” nima says happily, playing with the beads on his necklace.

neteyam chuckles at this, kissing the top of her forehead gently. “good morning, nima baby.”

inside, jake makes his way over to your closed off bedroom sheet, stopping just outside of it. “babygirl? you decent in there?”

your eyes flutter open, glancing at the shadow cast on your bedroom sheet. “dad?….come in.” you croak softly, clearing your throat.

jake pulls the sheet back, slipping inside as he kneels beside you. he takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb gently over the top of your hand. his eyebrows push together in concern as he sees the current state you’re in. “jesus, kid. you look terrible.”

you let out a soft laugh, looking down at his hands as you shake your head. “gee, thanks, dad.”

“i’m not sayin’ it to be funny, sweetheart. we need to get you some help. d’you want me to call for mo’at?” he asks, concern laced in his voice as his thumb still strokes the top of your hand gently.

your eyes water at this, unable to control your hormones. tears stream down your cheeks as you look up at your father in law, defeated. “it’s been so hard. i don’t know why this pregnancy has been so difficult, but it is. i don’t want to worry neteyam, but….i’m worried.”

“shhh, shhhh. there’s no need for that. worryin’ doesn’t do anyone any good.” jake starts to say, as neytiri pulls back the sheet now.

“oh, my sweet child…” she says gently, kneeling on the other side of your sleeping mat. “how are you feeling?”

you can only answer with a sob, turning into your pillow as you cry. “it hasn’t been easy.” you cry out, as neytiri holds your other hand.

jake and neytiri both exchange a worried glance, before looking back down at you.

“i will call for mother. she will bring the right ‘umtsa [medicine] for you.” neytiri reassures you, wiping your tears away with her other hand.

“thank you…both of you, truly…..i feel terrible for waking you up so early-” jake shakes his head and cuts your sentence short.

“don’t you dare apologize, babygirl. you’re sick. we need you to get better, and that’s our top priority, okay? nothing else is more important.”

neytiri nods in agreement, squeezing your hand gently. “ma ‘ite [my daughter], please, rest. we will take care of the children, do not worry.”

jake leans in to place a gentle kiss to your forehead, as neytiri follows suit. neytiri even fluffs your pillow for you, squeezing your hand one last time before they both rise to their feet, giving you one last look.

“promise me you’ll rest up, kid? you need it.” jake asks, squeezing neytiri’s hand gently as they look over your sleeping mat.

your lower lip trembles as you nod. “i promise, dad.”

jake and neytiri head out of your marui, as jake scoops nima up in his arms. “ready to go hunt, babygirl?”

“wes, wes!!” nima says excitedly, plucking the string of her bow.

neytiri squeezes neteyam’s arm gently, halting him from heading back inside. “neteyam. i called for my mother, she will bring ‘umtsa. make sure y/n takes it. it will help.”

“thank you, mother.” neteyam nods, before giving his children one last look. “have fun with grandma and grandpa, my little ones.”

all four of his children wave back to him, as neteyam slips through the marui opening, lacing it shut before making his way back to you. his strong arms wrap around you, gently rubbing your arm as he holds you.

sleep comes to you eventually, after what seems like hours of dozing off. you’re grateful that jake and neytiri are able to take your children hunting, plus it gives them a chance to spend time with their grandchildren. you can only hope that they’re behaving for them.

⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

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tartarusknight · 2 months

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Steve froze as the mind flayer came flying downwards at their group. He could hear Hopper yell for everyone to get down. Joyce and Jonathan running for Will. Steve who had been by both Robin and El, threw himself in front of them. Covering them the best he could. The mindflayer hit them with its smoke form and it was like nothing Steve had ever felt before. As is a tidal wave and a strong gust of wind mixed together to make you feel like you were drowning on land.

It settles around their feet for a moment before it began to swirl around all of them. Tendrils ran up Steve's leg but he didn't focus on that when there was one on El. The girl was the best shot to killing this thing. If she was taken now, they were fucked. So he battered them away from her as she did her best to get free of it's grips.

Only when Steve feels a tug, not on his leg or arm but like something tugged inside of him. Like someone had gotten a good grip on his intestines and pulled. Steve stumbled back his body going taught as he felt what felt like electricity running through his veins. His hand spasms and he drops the nail bat before his knees give out. Robin shouts his name and the last thing he sees before falling forward onto the ground is her outreached arms.

Steve feels nothing and everything at the same time. It makes it difficult to open his eyes but when he does, it's to an empty landscape. Like the Upside Down but... Just nature. It wasnt the creepy hell version of Hawkins but floating rocks and yellow lightning. The vines looked more like veins than slimy killers. And there was a form, made out of black particles flickering around. Silently he wishes that they could just have normal human problems to worry about. Instead of this.

As Steve stared, frozen to his spot, he could see it solidify into a spider like form before becoming something closer to a swarm of bees. It was the mindflayer. But it wasn't attacking like it had just been, it was just watching him. "King, help," the word isn't said but Steve hears it clear as day.

His brow furrows, "what?"

"King," it responds like he should understand. But he doesn't. "Help us, my king."

That word lost all meaning to him hears ago. From Tommy starting the nickname to the distain Steve could feel when Robin teased him with it. "You are called a king." It says and the pressure from it's words is like a pressure to his skull.

He winces and takes a step back, "that- I'm no king." But it doesn't seem to understand repeating the word once more. He feels at a lost, wishing someone else was here. He barely understood Will and El when they explained it wasn't the mindflayer attacking them, it was just Henry. That technically the mindflayer was just another puppet. Yet no one else is here. Wherever here is.

He feels dread light up his limbs and sighs. "Look, I haven't been called that in a long time. It basically-"

But the mindflayer cuts him off, "you are a king without a kingdom.” It's almost like a question but said like a demand.

"Sure, I guess. But I don't- what the fuck-" he screams, starting back as the smoke spirals down in front of him, looking smaller... But like a more condensed form. It almost looked solid if not for the wisps floating around it

"We need a king." The form flickers and it's like a living shadow.

"I'm not a king," Steve presses but as it takes a step forward, he scrambles further back until he trips on one of the many vines. As it reaches out, its hand catches him from falling. The fingers wrapped around his wrist are solid, almost warm against him.

"We need a ruler, a mind to melt us." The form is growing firmer the longer they stand here and Steve is lost. "you already are changing us." And if it can, it sounds amused.

"But- it was just a nickname. I'm not special." Steve splutters and the blackness of the smoak is changing. "I don't even know how to help you."

The grip on his wrist is completely solid and when Steve glances down, long human fingers are around his wrist. "Oh, my king, you're already helping us. Henry wanted us to strike fear in his enemies, he wanted an ally in his war, he wanted a beast. You just want to be free, for your friends to be safe, for me to be human. You desire a normalcy that you've lost," and the voice isn't pounding into Steve's skull but spoken like someone is speaking to him.

But Steve can look away from the hand around his wrist. "You desire for your friends to have a normal childhood, to have friends and play their games. You desire Robin to have another friend to confide in. You desire love," the voice is smooth and it would be relaxing if it weren't for the fact that it had been the fucking mindflayer a second ago. "My king, we can give it all to you," another hand moves and cups his cheek. Tilting him to look at a man with sparkling eyes and curly brown hair. As a smile formed on the man's face, a dimple formed to wink at Steve. "I think that it could be fun for both of us," the man grinned and Steve wasn't really sure what was happening anymore.

So I was trying around with this king Steve plot thingy after reading In Over My Head by staymagical (a wonderful fic if anyone's interested💞) but I had another actual idea of something like Venom (yes from spiderman) but more of... Well it was like Eddie somehow becomes Steve's shadow as in Eddie wasn't human. But I haven't gotten around to writing it yet. I might write a small clip like this with that premise tho. Anyways I combined the two ideas because I could and you got this. Hopefully it's at least an entertaining thought for ya 💞

#king steve #steve harrington #inhuman eddie munson #“monster” eddie munson #eddie munson #stranger things #eventual steddie #steddie #knightly talks #dont ask honestly

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yellydany · 26 days

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VAMPIRE KILLER FROG 🐸 🩸 (Nosferas Venari) Also known as Eztlicueyatl (Blood frog) or Tzinacamiztli (Bat death)

"A voracious amphibian-like species that adapted to hunt vampires. Its origins are vague and shrouded in mystery but an hypothesis suggests it could have been the result of selective breeding or nature’s “way” of dealing with the ecological imbalance vampires caused through centuries. Whichever the reason, one thing is clear: these hunters evolved in such fashion they became the night creatures’ bane.

Every bodily function feels almost engineered in eerie accuracy to strike at their very weaknesses- such as the tip of the tail (bone) they sharpen to resemble a stake, the muscle reflexes and athletic composition to catch up with their supernatural agility and a blackened coat which absorbs the bouncing light of nocturnal eyes paired with drastically lowering their body temperature (essentially becoming ‘invisible’ in the dark). Although they may prefer a stealthy approach they show no fear if they must engage in direct confrontation. There’s no sexual dimorphism albeit females are more common in nature compared to the rare male sights and not much is known about the behavior with others of their kind as they are solitary. But such is their intelligence that it would be safe to assume they study- and learn from both their prey’s movement and environments given the observations on this beast.

Worse yet- for vampires- they have more cunning ways of hunting for a meal.

The Nosferas frog is able to produce a unique secretion mix of blood, mucus and gastric fluids which is all over their bodies- from the inside and out. More interestingly they have a way to regulate its acidic components to either use as a melting gag weapon, dissolving and trapping pathogens or simply increasing its PH. Essentially, the body is extremely moldable thanks to this odd slimy substance that makes it almost feel like liquid and comes in handy in various situations such as protecting their brood eggs by swallowing them. It is also the most crucial function in the capturing of their vampiric prey as the scent of this bloody secretion lures them and other carnivores in. Once they come in sight they eject their multiple stomachs through gastric eversion to latch onto the victim and begin the digestion early. The vampire skulls are then proudly kept and displayed given the very transparent look of the lower side of the body.

Despite it being a terrifying organism by all means, they have shown vague signs of affection toward humans- some of whom have tamed and kept them as exotic guardian pets against the supernatural plague. In most areas of the land however they underwent a ban given their dangerous and unsettling nature."

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mawofthemagnetar · 8 months

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Father's Day

“So, hold on a minute,” Iskall held his hands up, “back up, because I must have missed that. You’re a FATHER?”

“Well, yeah?” Jevin shrugged, scrolling through his comm, “What’s so hard about that to believe?”

Iskall, by way of a reply, simply gestured at Jevin’s person from his head to his slimy feet.

“So? Okay, yeah, I guess it- is a little hard to fathom. I do, uh, have a certain- aura of coolness around me. But yeah, no, I’m a dad. And a damn good one, too. I mean, a slime-dad, which is a little different than a regular dad. But for a slime-dad, I’m top-shelf. Of course.”

“Uh-huh. And how does a slime-dad differ from a regular dad?” Iskall folded his arms.

“I don’t gotta, uh, chase after my kids as much as you guys do. They’re pretty much ready to go once they hit full-size. I do my bit by checking up on them periodically. Anyway, point is, I gotta go. My kids are throwing a father’s day bash, and I can’t be late.”

Iskall rubbed his temples.

“Okay, couple questions. One, father’s day was three months ago. Two, is there a Missus Jevin you’ve got stashed away somewhere? Or a Mister Jevin? Or-“

“…Why would another person be involved?” Jevin asked, tilting his head with a squish of slime, “Like, literally, why? Who needs help to become a parent?”

“…Uh…you know what? No. You want to learn about the parrots and the bats, go talk to Keralis.”

“Sure, whatever. Anyway, to answer your second question, it’s ‘cause if you try to do father’s day on the actual, like, day, renting a big enough hall is stupid expensive and it’s all just kind of dumb. And a hassle. So we host it whenever.”

Jevin glanced up from his comm.

“Wanna come? Meet my kids, I mean.”

Iskall rubbed his forehead.

“Sure, why not. Hit me with it.”

They tapped their comms together, and Jevin clacked his jaw together- the slime equivalent of a smile.

“Okay, so uh…All my kids know you guys as their aunts and uncles. So if they start calling you “auntie Iskall-“

“-Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m used to it.” Iskall nodded, “Should I wear something special?”

Jevin waved a hand.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You’re fine as you are. Anyway, let’s go. Not good to keep my kids waiting!”

And Jevin tapped a few options on his comm and vanished.

Iskall shrugged, tapped over to his server list, and selected the option for the Hub, with the teleport coordinates visible in the centre.

He tapped it, and vanished.

When Iskall opened his eyes again, he was standing outside a colossal building, looking like some kind of conference centre. It was made of smooth quartz, with a fake parking lot full of fake vehicles that had clearly taken some builder a long time to put together.

Jevin was standing there, tapping his sneaker impatiently, the blue slime slosh-slosh-sloshing against the ground.

“Alright, c’mon, let’s get moving.” Jevin huffed, “We’re already a couple minutes late, and my kids worked really hard to put this on.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming…” Iskall muttered, brushing off his pants and following Jevin towards the doors.

Iskall was assuming that Jevin’s family would have set up a few tables in a corner. He was a slime; and the way Jevin was talking, Iskall had assumed a big family. Maybe ten kids? That would be a pretty big family.

Then Jevin and Iskall stepped into the conference hall.

“HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, DAD!”

Several thousand slimes bellowed all at once, a wall of sound so deafening that Iskall could feel his bionic eye nearly shake out of its housing.

He blinked his one eye, darting it around the room in shock. There were hundreds of small tables around which sat an unfathomable number of slimes in all colours of the rainbow. The room was a riot of wild fashion choices, and a deafening rumble of clattering bones and squelching bodies.

“I- I-” Iskall stammered, as he reached up and tightened the nut holding his robotic eye onto his skull’s mounting post.

“HEY EVERYONE!” Jevin shouted back, “THANK YOU!”

“Is that Uncle Iskall?” a deep voice said eagerly, “It’s so nice to meet you!”

“You have…THOUSANDS…of children. Not ten. Not twenty. Not even a hundred. THOUSANDS.” Iskall stammered.

“Yeah. I’m, uh, the father of all slime hybrids. It’s not a big deal, to be honest. Some other slime would’ve absorbed a skeleton and decided to think about itself if I hadn’t.” Jevin shrugged.

“All. Of them. ALL OF THEM.” Iskall clutched his head in his hands.

“Yeah? It’s not that difficult. You just, like, shed some slime on a large enough pile of biomass, it’ll grow into a kid. How is this so confusing for you? That’s probably where humans come from.” Jevin shrugged.

He rubbed his slimy hands together with a hideous squelch, and started traveling through the room, eagerly greeting each and every one of his kids.

Iskall staggered over to the snack table, piled high with compost, cinderblocks, and beer. He popped a bottle, and started chugging it.

#magnetar writes #Jevin Fic #Iskall fic #I've had this thing in my documents for about half a year and I finally polished it up #I hope you enjoy

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