#otherwise the clothes are in great shape :)

[ferociouslycreativemystery]

Finally finished washing, mending, ironing and polishing my thrift store finds, so please behold my first ever cosplay 😁

I got two pairs of shoes, one men's pair which is more worn but fits the cosplay better, and a unisex one that I just absolutely adore for everyday wear as well!

[miyukisu]

NSFW Alphabet | Sae Itoshi .ᐟ

❤︎ | Get to know Sae Itoshi from A to Z~ ╰ feat. sae itoshi x afab! reader

minors do not interact

[A] Aftercare Decent. Bare minimum. Not over the top. At the very least he would wipe you down and clean you up without expecting you to move an inch. He'll even guide you to the bathroom if you plan to shower together (there are times when he carries you, but that's reserved for days when he REALLY goes all out on you). You have to specifically request for things if you want him to do it. Otherwise, that's all you're getting.

[B] Body Part Sae's canonically into ass. But it's important to note that he cares more about shape rather than size. He'll subtly ogle at your ass even in broad daylight, especially if you're wearing tight clothes that showcase it. On himself, however, he's aware of how nice his thighs look. Sometimes he'll pass by a full-length body mirror in just his boxers and he'll stand there for a minute to admire his legs. Partially, this is why he enjoys working out his legs.

[C] Cum Cums a lot, but not thick. It's more on the translucent side. He maintains a healthy diet so you can expect the taste to be bearable. Of course, he likes to release on your ass, but sometimes it gets on to your back as well. It's a sight he never gets tired of.

[D] Dirty Secret Even with his partner, he would hate to admit that he likes taking nude pictures of himself. It's not like he's going to send them out or that he gets off to it; he's no narcissist. But there's just something inexplicable about doing it. He'll snap a few, look at them, then delete them. He isn't sure why. But if you're into receiving nudes, he'll gladly comply (that is, if you've been together long enough).

[E] Experience Despite his good looks, it's surprising to know that he hasn't done it with a lot of people. He only does it with someone he's in a relationship with and even that rarely happens. He's a busy person and it takes longer for him to develop trust for anyone compared to the normal person. But you could say that he's a natural. He can make you cum at least a couple of times through instinct alone.

[F] Favorite Position He has a hard time picking between plain ol' doggy and reverse cowgirl. See any similarities? Yeah, both positions just give him a nice view of your behind. It allows him to grope, squeeze, and slap it any time he wants. He particularly likes watching it jiggle at every hard thrust that he does. Although, he might prefer doggy a little more as he can have most of the control in that position. But it's trivial to pick. He'll just have you in both positions each time you decide to do it anyway.

[G] Goofy The man doesn't smile, let alone laugh, during sex. It's not that he's not enjoying it, but he doesn't find the act to be humorous at all. He finds it weird to call it "fun". He'd rather describe it as passionate and intense which is why he's serious. However, there are VERY rare moments when he cracks a small smile, but it only happens in highly emotional moments (like your first time having sex as a married couple, for example).

[H] Hair He trims it, but not for sexual purposes. He's an extremely hygienic man, so he does it out of self-care. In reality, he doesn't care too much about what their partner thinks of his hair. If they like it; then great. If they don't; they can deal with it. Besides, he doesn't care about his partner's hair. He'll take whatever's waiting for him down there. He'll never go fully bald because he finds it odd. He'll trim it a bit regularly and that's about it.

[I] Intimacy A very passionate lover; that's for sure. As I've mentioned, he finds the act to be something serious. He'll only do it with you out of love and care. So even if he doesn't outwardly seem like a romantic person in bed, he definitely is. He likes to keep it fair in the bedroom. So if he's enjoying, you should be enjoying it just as much as he is. Although, he doesn't speak much, but he'll call you "Amor" sometimes. Sae will whisper that name in your ear gently.

[J] Jack Off As you might expect, he doesn't do it a lot. For one, he's too busy doing or thinking about something else. It's something that he can only think about doing when he's lying in bed at night with a blank mind. Sae mostly does it out of frustration—if he wants to release pent up emotions without lashing out on someone else. He's quick and likes to get the job done as fast as he can. Can you blame him? It relaxes him after all. Though, he isn't immune to temptation either. If you send him jack off material, he'll gladly use it.

[K] Kink Sae discovered it a bit late, but he likes brat taming. He doesn't even know that it's a thing. He just knows that he likes putting disobedient girls in their places. He'll act annoyed or pissed off at your insolence, but deep down, he's craving that you do it more. Something about feeling that his authority is being challenged, excites him. Of course, it adds some spice to your bedroom activities. But maybe it has to do with him proving to you over and over again that he's the one in control—he's the one holding the reigns. He especially loves it when you eventually become obedient in the end. But keep being a tease; he eats it up.

[L] Location Anywhere as long as it's inside the house/apartment/hotel. He likes the privacy and comfort that those places offer. He can't be bothered to think about the possibility of getting caught. As thrilling as it might be, he has a reputation to uphold. The impending PR work is not worth the orgasm, at least for him. He also would hate to do it in a place that would force you into a weird position. At least at home there's a bed, a couch, a chair, or a counter for you to use. Again, he's a hygienic guy, so the dirty outdoors is a huge no for him.

[M] Motivation First of all, he has to be either extremely relaxed or incredibly frustrated—there is no in between. But once either condition is met, it's not that hard to get him in the mood. In fact, he likes to hear how eager you are. Simply asking him if he wants to do it would be more than enough. Even better if you express how much you've been needing him throughout the day or week. There are times when he initiates things, but that usually happens when you're already touching each other (like while cuddling). You'll know because he'll grind his hard on against you or deliberately take your hand and place it there.

[N] No Anything extreme is off the table for him. In many ways, he's quite vanilla. The farthest he'll go would be a little bit of bondage and usage of toys. But if there's extreme pain, blood, piss, and things beyond that involved—consider him out.

[O] Oral Again, he likes to keep things pretty equal, so likes both giving and receiving. Although, you might notice that he'll go at your pussy first before letting you suck him off. It gets him into the momentum apparently. Plus, most of the time, he already gets you to cum from his tongue alone. You swear that he gets better each time he does it. You can never last long since he likes to suck on the clit, oop. When you suck him off, he'll tangle his fingers in your hair and guide you lightly. He lets you do your thing, pretty much. The only exception is when he's really stressed out—expect him to tug at your hair a little harder then.

[P] Pace He usually likes it slow and sensual. Sex is the only time he feels relaxed and in control of his time. Why would he want to rush it? The atmosphere also feels different for him when he goes slow. Furthermore, Sae uses this as a way to observe you properly—which spots to hit, which points to stimulate at the same time, and so on. It gets him off knowing that he can get better and better at providing pleasure. Consider it as part of his ego as well. He might take it slow, but there are definitely moments when he pounds you hard and steady. The type of pounding that needs you to hold on for dear life or else you'll fall.

[Q] Quickie Not really a fan of it. But it's not like he would never do it. Sae will only resort to quickies when absolutely necessary. Those kinds of situations are mostly when both of your schedules are packed and there is literally not enough time to have proper sex. That or when both of you feel incredibly frustrated and nothing else will satiate you but each other. Another reason why he doesn't do this as much is that it leaves him wanting more. He hates feeling like a needy idiot, so he avoids quickies as much as he can.

[R] Risk He'll try anything not-so-extreme at least once, especially if you ask him nicely. Though he has shown interest in experimenting in bondage a bit, more specifically, in shibari. It's a bit intricate and it might hurt you a bit if not done right, but if you're willing to share that risk with him—he's game. From the Sae perspective, I'd say a risky thing that he does is whispering things in your ear he wouldn't normally say. He just likes to keep you on your toes and the way you clench down on him is just way too good. Besides, you'll most likely forget he said it anyway because he fucks you dumb most of the time.

[S] Stamina His endurance and stamina in general are certainly well-trained, but he is just a man. His dick needs to recuperate at its own pace. Maybe he can last two rounds for the most part, but there are days when he can only last for one. But it's not much of an issue. In that one round, he can last for so long. He can take advantage of that time and make you cum over and over again. Besides, even if you've milked him for the time being, he can still go at it with his mouth and fingers. You'll never catch him breathless after a few measly minutes.

[T] Toys He doesn't own any. He feels silly spending money on such things and using it on himself. But if it's for you; he'll gladly spend as much as he needs. He just doesn't see the appeal of using it on himself. Pocket pussies? Cock rings? Seems a bit ridiculous to him. But if you happen to own a vibe or two, he'll definitely use it. There's no harm in heightening your pleasure anyway. He's also chill with a bit of bondage rope and handcuffs. He's a bit iffy about using dildos though. Maybe it's because of his pride, but what's the use of it when you can have his dick instead?

[U] Unfair He's a tease without even trying. The snarky remarks that he makes comes out of his mouth naturally. "Oh, you're cumming again? You're too easy," and he'll say it with a straight face. Sometimes when you do ask him to fuck you faster, he'll ignore you on purpose. The man wants to hear you beg so nicely for him after being such a brat earlier. Although, he's surprisingly less of a tease as you'd expect.

[V] Volume Mostly grunts and groans. He claims that you will never hear him whimper, so of course, you make it your life's purpose to get him to whimper. It has yet to happen. And he does find it amusing that you think that you can make THE Sae Itoshi whimper like a bitch. Aside from that, the sounds he makes aren't so loud. He makes sure the grunts near your ear, containing it there. BUT, a little quirk of his is that he lets out a long sigh once he cums. It just feels so relieving that he can't help it anymore.

[W] Wild Card He thinks he'd bust right away sometimes whenever you stare up at him while you suck him off. Seeing you servicing him so eagerly while on your knees does things to his brain. It makes his ego swell like insane. "You're such a good girl, amor. You love me alot, don't you?" He'll wipe away the tears that threaten to fall because your jaw's so stretched out. Sae knows you're struggling a bit, but hang on for now and he'll reward you plenty afterwards.

[X] X-ray Not that girthy, but loooooong. He has quite a pretty dick, especially since he keeps it neat down there as well. It doesn't curve that much, but it is quite veiny. You can see the veins because of his pale complexion. There's one particularly thick vein that feels the best when rubbing against your walls. He's also cut, so you know that he has a light pink tip. Definitely a shower.

[Y] Yearning He's definitely more inclined to have sex than jacking off. That's because he'll actually make time for it. Sae will find ways to clear up his schedule or at least have more time with you—to have sex and to do things other than sex, of course. It's an odd, but helpful, trait of his that he can easily match the libido of his partner. Unless if his partner has an insanely high libido, then you'd probably have to find even ground. But again, it's not hard to get him into the mood. So if you initiate or ask him, more often than not—he'll get down and dirty with you in a heartbeat.

[Z] Zzz He doesn't fall asleep right away because, A) he needs to clean up and take care of you, and B) he just isn't tired enough. Don't get him wrong—good pussy pushes him to the edge, but being well-trained just helps him to not pass out immediately after busting. However, he will fall asleep right away once you're all cleaned up and the bed (which presumably got drenched) is all tidied up. Once you're sleeping soundly in his arms, he'll let himself be consumed by slumber as well.

❤︎ Overall: Sae's quite a good lover in that he puts effort and meaning into sex and that he's constantly improving. He genuinely cares about making it an activity both of you enjoy. 10/10 experience.

©kzyluvr do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note Actually a bit terrified that I might have butchered Sae Itoshi in this one

[scribefindegil]

Do you sew? Do you have boobs? Do your tops never seem to fit correctly despite following all the instructions on the pattern? THIS IS NOT YOUR FAULT! Sewing patterns usually just tell you to match your full bust measurement to their sizing chart, but this isn't enough information to tell you if the garment will actually fit.

Here's the problem. Imagine three people who all have a 40-inch bust measurement. But one of them is completely flat-chested, one of them is very well-endowed, and the third has the mythical "average" figure that the pattern was designed for. Despite having the same circumference, their torsos are completely different sizes and shapes! So while our lucky "average" sewist can cut out the pattern as written and have it fit, that same size is going to be much too tight in the shoulders for the flat-chested person and much too loose in the shoulders for the buxom one.

And that sucks, because an adjustment to add or remove fullness from the bust is much easier to do than trying to re-size the shoulders and torso. Instead of starting off with the pattern size that matches your bust measurement, it's a lot better if you can start off with the size that fits your shoulders. But almost no patterns tell you how to figure this out!

What you need is to match the high bust measurement. Here's an image (from "Ahead of the Curve: Learn to Fit and Sew Amazing Clothes For Your Curves" by Jenny Rushmore, a GREAT book for learning to fit garments, especially if you're bigger) on how to measure high bust vs full bust.

The difference, in inches, between the full bust measure and the high bust measure is your sewing cup size. (usually not the same as your bra cup size, which is the difference between the full bust measure and the underbust measure. yes, it's confusing. sorry)

So how to use this to figure out what size to cut out from your pattern? If you're using a Big Four sewing pattern, those are all drafted for a B sewing cup, so the high bust for any given size will be two inches less than the given (full) bust measurement. Choose the size that matches your high bust. Then compare the full bust measurement to yours. If it matches, great! If it's smaller or larger, you will have to do either a full bust adjustment or small bust adjustment. They seem scary because they're slash-and-spread adjustments, but if you find a good tutorial they're not that hard. You can also just make a mockup in the pattern size that matches your high bust and either add or remove fabric in the bust area until it behaves.

What if you're not using a Big Four pattern? Well, if you're lucky you'll find a pattern you like from a company that simply provides the high bust measurement as well as the full bust in their chart. A few places, like Cashmerette, actually include multiple cup sizes in their patterns so you don't need to do any math to get a good fit. Otherwise, if the company tells you what cup size they're drafted with, you can figure out the high bust from the full bust: A cup is one inch difference, B is two, C is three etc.

If the pattern company doesn't tell you anything except the full bust measurement, scold them about it. If you have to guess, smaller sizes will most likely be drafted with a B cup. There's a little more variation in plus sizes. Regardless, if you're making a mockup try to get the shoulders and neck fitting properly before you worry too much about the bust.

Now go forth and sew things that actually fit your body!

[fanficsat12am]

pairing: Obanai x Reader 

wc: 1.8k

prompt: “You weren’t there…why weren’t you there?”

A/N: This is my first kny work so I'd love to hear from your feedback :>

📜 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃!! 📜

It’s hard to think that the face that typically adorned a bright and beautiful smile is now littered with scars and bruises. Tanjiro’s forehead was wrapped with an otherwise white bandage had it not been for the tints of red seeping through the cloth. Despite the gruesome image, his body wasn’t any better. On each arm lay great purple blemishes that peeked over the dressing prepared by Ms. Shinobu. Despite being tended to by multiple Kakushi as well as the residents of the Butterfly Mansion, the metallic scent of blood remained. 

As you watched the boy’s chest rise and fall, you couldn’t help but wish you were there, or another hashira for that matter. Perhaps everything would have turned out differently. The trio wouldn’t have left the battle in such bad conditions, Uzui wouldn’t have lost an eye and a hand, and maybe he wouldn’t have retired from the corps. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice the presence by the door, heterochromatic eyes staring at your slumped figure. 

Obanai glared at the unconscious boy, feeling the seed of jealousy continuing to grow in him— the albino serpent slung on his shoulder hissing at the scene in front of him. He never understood why you cared so much for Tanjiro. In his eyes, you were far from the women he had the displeasure of meeting. You were strong, determined, selfless, and many more. Perhaps that’s why Obanai had grown to enjoy being in your presence, unaware of how he’d subconsciously always want to be by your side. So to see that Kamado kid steal you away from him made him loathe the boy with a passion.

He scoffs, alerting you that you were no longer alone, with your eyes darting towards him. “You shouldn’t get all bent out of shape about him. It’s his fault he’s lying in that bed right now.” He crosses his arms, gaze hard as it trails to the bandages on the boy with the Hanafuda earrings.

Your eyebrows crease. “What?”

“He’s weak and impulsive. The kid couldn’t even kill a lower moon demon without a hashira’s help. It’s a surprise he got out of there alive.”

“Iguro-san, I know you’re not too fond of him, but he did his best to help and survive. He and Tengen kill the first upper moons after 100 years. That’s a huge step for the corps and–-”

“They got lucky. Had it not been for Uzui, those demons would have just ended their pitiful lives right then and there. At this rate, he can forget about defeating Kibutsuji and just get it through his brain that his sister’s stuck like that. Maybe tell him to kill her already while you’re at it and save us all the time.”

Your eyes widen, unable to believe the words coming from the Serpent Hashira. You pursed your lips, a mixture of shock, disappointment, and disbelief brewing within you, but mostly that of anger. You were no stranger to Obanai’s sharp tongue, his words venomous like that of a snake’s bite. But to demean the work of those involved in the Entertainment District was beneath him. You huff before turning your gaze back to Tanjiro. He doesn’t miss the glare in your eyes as you scan every injury on his body.

“You weren’t there…” you said through gritted teeth. “Why weren’t you there?” 

He took a sharp breath, masking it with a scoff. “They shouldn't have needed me in the first place.” They were trained demon hunters, not children who had to be looked after every minute of the day. 

You couldn’t help but drop your jaw in disbelief, attention now back on Obanai. Despite his harsh words, he looked unfazed. 

“How can you even say that? They could have died!”

“With lives like ours, death is always around the corner. As a hashira yourself, you should already know this”. 

“But—”

“But nothing. We can’t save everyone, (Y/N). The weak have no place in the corps” he said, leaving no room for debate. Why did you care so much? Those who don’t have what it takes only have so much time before a demon puts them six feet under. Seeing how it’s futile to make you see his side of things, he turns to leave, but what you say next makes him stop in his tracks.

“You know… You hate your family for what they’ve done to you, for treating you as nothing more than a mere tool, just a sacrifice for their benefit. But from what I see, you’re no different…”

He was stunned into silence, the only response being the hiss Kaburamaru sent your way.  The expression on his face got darker before stalking off, making sure to slam the door as he slid it close. Walking through the hallways of the Butterfly Mansion, he couldn’t deny the pain brought about by your words. Perhaps he was a fool to think that the suffocating grip his bloodline held on him would ever disappear. 

***

Guilt gnawed away at you as days passed without Obanai. Despite his harsh words towards the others, you knew you went too far. After that day in the Butterfly Mansion, he had yet to talk to you again, no surprise visits to your abode nor a crow in sight. You finally had enough after enduring his silence for a week. Enough was enough, and you needed to be the bigger person here. 

The two-step plan of privately talking to Obanai and apologizing proved to be harder than expected. It felt like hours had gone by as you continued to knock on his door, calling out his name. You sighed, thinking about trying again another day, had it not been for the underlying feeling within of being watched. Sharply turning your head to its presence, you saw a blur of black and white zipping from the trees.

“Obanai!” you call out, immediately following after him. He whisked through the forest, his serpentine-like running style allowing him to maneuver around each obstacle with immense speed. 

“Please! I just want to talk”. Despite his speed, you were able to catch up to him. Just as he rounds a wisteria tree, he disappears from your sight. Darting your eyes around your surroundings, you see nothing other than miles upon miles of leaves and bark. Only when a low hiss from above you sounds do you find Obanai perched on one of the tree’s long, winding branches. You don’t miss the way his eyes follow your every movement—like that of a predator stalking its prey.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You’ve said all you needed to say. Now leave.” 

Seeing how he was about to leave yet again, you quickly leap up the tree and grab a hold of his haori. Wishing to protect his friend, Kaburamaru bares his fangs on instinct. You draw your hand and try to step back, but instead feel your foot slip off. 

A surprised shriek leaves you as you flail your arms around, trying to grasp at anything. Before you could fall off completely, a strong tug on your uniform wrenches you into a tight embrace. Pulling your face back from his chest, you meet the eyes you had been missing for days. Despite both of your feet now flat on the branch, his hold is still tight—one arm securely wrapped around your waist as one reached from one shoulder to the other. 

You both stay like that for a while, not breaking the comforting silence. Staring down at you, Obanai can’t help but bask at how the wisteria flower’s glow encapsulates your beauty. Despite almost memorizing your features, from the rounds of your cheeks to the crinkles on your eyes when you smile, he can’t help but still be entranced by you every time you look at him. 

He blushes at the realization that he has been holding you for far too long. He turns his head in embarrassment, trying to avoid your gaze, but is stopped by your hand cupping his cheek to face you once more. As your fingers graze over the fabric, the hand once by your shoulders shoots up to grab your wrist. 

“Don’t…I’m hideous,” his gaze falls,  “Just like they were…” 

Your heart squeezes in pain. This was your fault—the words you had thrown just to hurt him had done its job. All those times you had reassured him that he was nothing like his family were crushed by your own doing. You could only hope that you could still mend the pieces that remained.

Despite his dissuasion, you slowly take hold of the bandages once again and pull it down. Had it been anyone else, Obanai would have pushed them off immediately. But with you, it was as if the walls he had built around him crumbled with your gaze alone. The band unravels to show the shameful scars it hid underneath, its jagged lines decorating his face from ear to ear. He’d expected you to look away or even squint in disgust. But no, instead, your eyes held intrigue as the pads of your fingers ran across every bump and crevice of his wounds.  

“I’m-” disgusting,  he’d wanted to say, yet you had cut him off before he could say anything else.

“Beautiful. I’m sorry I let you think otherwise, Iguro-san,” you pause before bringing your gaze back to his own. “I shouldn’t have said what I did when it was further from the truth. Please believe me when I say that you are not hideous in the slightest bit. No one in this lifetime nor the next can convince me otherwise.” 

He tries to look for any signs of you lying—dilating pupils, or even a slight flinch—nothing. You lean forward, staring down at his scarred lips, with Obanai doing the same. Before your lips get close enough, you stop.

“May I?” you ask, taking a deep breath in anticipation.

“If you’d have me” he whispers, finally allowing them to meet in a long-awaited kiss. His lips closed on yours, soft yet engrossing, kind yet strong all at once. He felt rough, a stark contrast to that of yours, which was soft and delicate. They fitted together like two puzzle pieces. Obanai pulled your waist to him, drawing you closer. There was no lust, just two souls finally finding one another. Pulling away, your breaths heaved, both wishing that this moment would never end. 

The silence was cut off by a hiss from Kaburamaru as he tilted his head in awe before slithering his way onto your shoulder and nuzzling himself on your cheek. You giggle as you place a finger on the top of his head to pet it, the snake leaning into your touch. As Obanai watches the scene in front of him, a feeling of hope blossoms within his chest. His past may stain the blood inside him, but he will never let it tarnish the future he could have with you.

[cheolism]

✧ mirror mirror

✧ yoon jeonghan x f!reader ✧ summary: jeonghan asks to roleplay him being jealous and fucks you like the little desperate slut you are ✧ wc is approx 10.7k ✧ tags: roleplaying, secret relationship (mentioned but not explored), smut ✧ warnings: mdni. feminine pet names, use of slut, pervert, mounting. jealousy, posessiveness, taunting and teasing, picture taking. rough and unprotected sex, squirting, dry humping. mirror sex, aftercare, roleplaying. ✧ request: i’m not quite sure if you’re still taking requests but do you think i could request jeonghan (preferably dom but sub would be fine too) smut with mirror? you can take ur time with it hope it’s not a bother! love reading your fics! have a great day🫶🫶 ✧ anon idk if this is what u wanted but i ran w it. i'm sorry it took a hot minute!!! i hope you enjoy it <3333

He had been watching you all night. 

Jeonghan's eyes always tended to be turned towards you, but not like this. Usually he watched you with unbridled affection, love, adoration. But tonight his gaze was narrowed, his eyes sharp and dark, accentuated by the way he would constantly brush his dark bangs back and away from his face.

You didn't know what you had done to deserve that look from him. You weren't wearing anything revealing, hadn't done anything tantalizing or seductive. All night you had just sat at the couch, sipping at your drink and nodding along to Seungcheol's words.

Your friend was pleasantly buzzed, a large smile on his face and cheeks blushed. He had defeated a few others in beer pong, but that hadn't meant he walked away unscathed.

"I really think we'll be seeing all this warm weather bite us in the ass come summer," he was saying. "There's no way we don't."

You hummed, agreeing. "Remember when it got so cold that one year where it was in the negatives during the afternoon?"

"Yes!" Seungcheol gasped, eyes bright. Mingyu approached the couch, a pout on his face. He wedged himself next to Seungcheol and the arm of the couch, forcing Seungcheol closer to you.

Your thighs were touching his, his shoulder against yours. The two of you adjusted to get more comfortable, but not separating entirely.

There was movement from the wall. Jeonghan was still watching you, eyes taking in your every move. It was obvious he wasn't paying attention to Seokmin, who was dramatically waving his arms around to emphasize his story.

Jeonghan had, uncharacteristically, worn all black, form-fitting clothing. His jeans clung to his legs, revealing their slender shape; he wore a tank-top that hugged his stomach and chest, only hidden by his jacket. His hair was as black as his clothes, adding to the overall look that had your neurons and electrons screaming, eyes constantly smoothing over his form in an attempt to memorize the look.

Seungcheol shifted. He turned towards you, his wide body partially shielding Jeonghan from your view. He moved his arm to press against the couch, caging you in on one side. Seungcheol's bangs obscured his eyes as he ducked his head, voice low.

"I know you're dating Jeonghan." He ignored your gasp, your eyes widening. "And I know he hasn't looked away from you once all night. How about I help move things along, hm?"

"Seungcheol --"

"Don't worry, princess," Seungcheol grinned, eyes still holding that dangerously bright look. He reached out, hand cradling your cheek. "I won't tell anyone. Won't have to after this."

Then he was being shoved away from you, his body hitting Mingyu's. Your boyfriend was standing in front of the two of you, his drink gone, his jaw jutting out as he visibly tried to reign in his anger. Jeonghan, however much he tried to appear otherwise, wasn't good at hiding his emotions.

His anger was seen in the furrow of his brows, the firmness of his lips; the harsh, dark look of his eyes and the way his hands clenched at his sides.

"Y/n," He began, eyes never moving from Seungcheol. "Didn't you say that you couldn't stay long tonight? I think it's time for you to be going home. Why don't I take you."

You knew he wasn't asking, but commanding. Confused, but obedient, you stood from the couch. "I guess that's all right. See you later, Seungcheol."

"Bye, baby," Seungcheol sang, relaxing back in the couch. He had a little smirk on his face, pleased.

Jeonghan scoffed, grabbing your wrist. He pulled you towards him, his other hand settling on your waist. "Fuck off, Choi Seungcheol."

Seungcheol's laughter followed the two of you as you left the room, Jeonghan's grip on you never faltering. Eyes turned towards the two of you as you left the house party, taking in Jeonghan's hold on you, how urgently he maneuvered you.

Jeonghan said nothing to you as he led you to his car. He did open the passenger door for you, gently pushing you down onto the seat. You peered up at him with wide eyes as he stood before you, towering over your sitting form. "Jeonghan? Seungcheol wasn't doing anything, you don't have anything to be jealous about, I swear."

A soft smile that countered the past five minutes took over Jeonghan's face. He braced his hands on the car, leaning down and lowering his face towards you. "I know, sweetheart. But let's pretend he was, and let's pretend that I do."

"Pretend?"

Jeonghan's smile turned into a little smirk, the dark look that he had worn inside the house from watching you with Seungcheol returning to his face. "Pretend, my darling. Let's pretend Seungcheol was intent on fucking your perfect little pussy, and let's pretend I'm driven mad by jealousy, mad enough to fuck your cunt raw."

Every single thought flew out of your mind, eyes wide on your boyfriend. It was like the whole world went silent, shocked by his words.

Then you rewound his words. He wanted to pretend that Seungcheol, his best friend, had wanted -- you gulped -- wanted to "fuck your perfect little pussy", wanted to pretend that he was jealous so he could have an excuse to fuck you roughly.

The two of you had begun having sex a few weeks ago, a month after you had begun your relationship. There hadn't been enough time for the two of you, in your shared opinion, to be fully comfortable with having rougher sex.

Not that sex had been boring with Jeonghan. Not with how expertly he worked his fingers in your cunt, exploring within you. Not with how he was content to just lay between your thighs, arms wrapped around them to keep them spread wide, tonguing lazily at your clit for what seemed to be hours on end.

But still --

"If it's okay with you, of course," Jeonghan hurriedly added. He stepped off the curb, crowding into the car. His fingers sunk into your hair, tilting your head back. Jeonghan's eyes flickered over your face, drinking you in. "We can talk about it more on the drive."

You nodded, swallowing harshly.

Jeonghan smiled. He bent down, pressing his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. The smell of alcohol hit your nose, and you couldn't help but wrinkle it.

Jeonghan laughed. "Cute."

Another kiss, this time deeper. He moved his mouth against yours lavishly, taking his time, as if the world would stop turning just so he could devour you. Each press was quick and wet, his tongue rolling into your mouth and mixing his spit with yours; each press sent a wave of heat through you, your head beginning to spin.

Jeonghan moved away, a string of spit connecting his mouth to yours, the smack of mouths separating sending a final wave of heat, one that landed in your cunt.

He laughed, darting forward to press a sweet kiss to your forehead. "How cute you are. You look like I've been fucking you when all we've done is kiss."

"Hush." You turned your head away from him, breaking his hold. Jeonghan pulled away and shut the car door, but even then you could hear the sound of his giggles.

One thing about Yoon Jeonghan, you had come to discover, was that he was absolutely shameless. The two of you kept your relationship on the quieter end, but that didn't stop him. He'd tug you to the back of the group when you were with your friends, just so he could slip his hand into your back pocket and squeeze. He'd grab you before you walked out the door for work whenever the two of you spent the night together, pressing you against the wall and ravishing your mouth and neck, leaving bites and sucking hickeys.

He took delight in your embarrassment and it seemed the more embarrassed you got, the more pleased he was.

"Aesh," Jeonghan sighed, sliding in the driver's door. "Can't believe you're still embarrassed by a little kissing."

"You kissed me like -- like --" You shot him a look, curling your lip a little, hoping he would drop it.

"Like what?" Jeonghan taunted, putting the key into the ignition. "Like we were fucking?"

You gasped, shooting him a wide-eyed look. "Yoon Jeonghan!"

He laughed, putting on his seat belt. You were quiet as he pulled off the side of the road, the radio softly singing and filling the silence.

"So about me being jealous," Jeonghan began, drumming his fingers on the wheel. "I'm not. Just want to clarify. I know Seungcheol was just fucking around with me. But it would be fun to pretend, wouldn't it?"

You hummed, shifting in the seat. You reached towards the console, pushing on your seat warmer. Jeonghan shook his head when you shot him an inquiring look, declining the warmer.

"What would it include? Being jealous?"

Jeonghan shrugged. His black hair was pushed behind his ears with just enough curl to where the strands hugged the bottoms of his earlobes. He looked so sweet, with his impish little grin and large eyes. Jeonghan was so beautiful, so angelic, so princely --

And underneath it all was a pervert.

"Well. It includes all the territory that comes with being jealous when someone's trying to fuck their partner. Possessiveness, manhandling, hickeys. Fucking your sweet little cunt relentlessly, shoving my dick inside." Your pussy, shamefully, clenched aruond nothing at the lewdness. "Proving that every single inch of you, every centimeter, from the precious hair on the top of your head, your tight cunt, your littlest toe, is mine.

"If you're interested in that kinda thing."

You turned away from Jeonghan, tongue running over your lips.

Against your better judgement you began imagining it. Jeonghan's large hands squeezing your thighs, peeling them apart. His mouth on your breast, biting and sucking in turn, tongue running over your hardened nipples. Nails digging into your skin, shoulders wedging between your legs. Fingers working you open just enough to fit his dick without causing you pain, careless otherwise.

Jeonghan ramming his dick into your cunt, immediately filling you with his entire length and cockhead hitting your core. Your legs draped over his shoulders, his body flush against yours, his fingers squeezing your skin hard enough to leave bruises.

"You wouldn't be mean, would you?" You leaned forward, pushing the seat warmer off. Your ass was warm, and combined with the warmth that was quickly mounting in your cunt made you uncomfortable.

Mounting.

Jeonghan, in a fit of possessiveness, flinging you to your stomach. Hands grabbing at your hips, wrenching you up for him to fuck you on his cock, mounting you like --

Maybe you were the pervert.

"No," Jeonghan agreed, "I wouldn't be mean. And if I say anything you don't like, you can use the safe word and stop it. Besides. You're too cute. I don't think anyone can be mean to you."

You threw Jeonghan an exasperated look.  He was grinning, the streetlights casting shadows on his face, exaggerating the cut of his cheekbones, shrouding him in darkness and light both.

"Okay." You licked your lips again. "Let's do it."

"Say it." Jeonghan sang, removing one hand off of the wheel to tuck some stray black hairs behind his ear. "I want you to say it. Say 'Jeonghan, my darling, my love, I want you to fuck me like a jealous lover.'"

Huffing, you turned away from him and looked out the window. Jeonghan giggled. You crossed your legs at the ankles, tucking your hands underneath your thighs. Softly, just enough so he could hear, you repeated his words. "Jeonghan, I want -- I want you to fuck me like you're jealous."

"Why would I be jealous, sweet girl?"

You turned your head to look over your shoulder at him, squirming. He used such sweet names with you, and it was absolutely horrible how they sent warmth flooding through you, how they seemed to settle in the pit of your gut, your pussy clenching and gushing.

"You'd -- you'd be jealous of Cheollie," you murmured. "Jealous of Cheollie wanting . . ."

"What does he want?"

You licked your lips, watching the line of his sharp jaw, the way his dark eyes stared straight ahead. "He wants -- he wants to fuck me."

"Fuck your what?"

A little gasp escaped you. As your words left your lips your pussy began to leak, juices slowly trickling out and seeping into your underwear. "Cheollie wants to fuck my -- my pussy."

It was as if Jeonghan won a competition. His face lit up, satisfaction practically radiating off of him. He looked so thoroughly smug, getting you to say such dirty words.

You glanced down at his lap. His jeans, which had done nothing to hide the muscle of his thighs and the shape of his legs, did absolutely zilch in concealing the bulge of his dick. It pressed against his jeans, and you bet he felt so uncomfortable like that. You wanted to reach over the console and unzip his jeans, reach into his boxers and take out his cock, his pretty long cock.

Immediately your mouth went to watering, and you were mortified when you shifted and felt the wetness of your underwear. You were leaking from both your mouth and cunt and all Jeonghan had done was say some dirty words.

You were such a fucking pervert.

Jeonghan's little hum distracted you from your peril. He lowered the volume of the radio, even though you could barely hear it in the first place. He didn't return his hand to the wheel; instead he laid his hand on your thigh, fingers quickly squeezing your flesh before relaxing.

"You've been so mean to me tonight," Jeonghan sighed, pressing his pretty lips into a frown. "You knew what you were doing, didn't you? Letting Seungcheol snuggle up against you like that on the couch."

"Hannie?"

His hand squeezed your thigh again. His fingers, his long and elegant fingers that should be used for playing piano or guitar or something other than what your pussy hoped he was going to use them for, shifted up your thigh.

You should've worn a skirt or shorts, damn the winter weather.

"You sat with Seungcheol all night." Jeonghan's fingers brushed against the inside seam of your jeans. You watched, transfixed, as his nails played with it. "Ignored me, your boyfriend, in favor of my best friend."

"Didn't mean to," you whispered, swallowing absentmindedly. He tapped his fingers against your inner thigh and immediately you were spreading your legs, baring yourself for him.

A laugh left Jeonghan, amused by your obedience. His hand slid over your thigh and settled over your clothed cunt. A sharp gasp left you, both of your hands shooting to hold his wrist in place. Before you could help it you were grinding your hips up, driving your cunt against his hand.

"What a needy slut you are," Jeonghan said conversationally, as if he was just remarking on the weather. Then he paused. "Is that mean?"

You shook your head. "No. Not mean."

"Did you like it?" You went silent. Jeonghan, delighted, laughed. "Let me feel your cunt. I bet you did like it."

You released his hand. You were mortified of the mess you knew awaited him in your pants. Wetness had completely soaked your underwear, your cunt hot and clenching frantically, as if you were -- as if you were a needy slut.

Once your jeans were bunched around your knees, Jeonghan's hand returned to your cunt. He pressed it against your underwear, trapping it between his hand and your pussy. "You definitely liked it.  Your cunt has fucking soaked your panties. I bet I could drink your juices right from your panties."

You gasped, offended and thoroughly turned on by the image. Jeonghan ignored you. "We'll be pulling into the lot soon. As soon as we leave the car, it starts, okay? Is that okay?"

You nodded. Jeonghan removed his hand from your cunt, making you clench. Part of you wanted Jeonghan to just stick his fingers inside of you already, to press your underwear to the side and fuck you in the car.

That, however, was too much for you right now.

So you hiked your jeans back up your thighs, frowning at the feeling of your underwear sticking to your cunt once again.

Jeonghan pulled into his car space, unclipping his seat belt as he did. Once he had the car in park and turned off the engine, he reached to you. One of his hands went to your belt, guiding it off of you. "Remember, sweetheart. Just pretend.”

“Just pretend,” you echoed back, smiling at him.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, both of his hands moving to cradle your face. “How fucking cute,” he sighed, as if your cuteness was burdensome. He ducked forward, pressing his lips to yours in a quick kiss. “I adore you.”

You laughed a little, delighted. You reached up, hands covering his and keeping them on your face. Your lips sought his back out, pressing a sweet kiss to them. Jeonghan, who was always eager for kisses and hardly ever turned them down, let out a little moan against your mouth. 

His hands sunk into your hair, bringing you closer. Jeonghan’s mouth began to move urgently against yours, trapping your lips between his, each kiss more hurried and sloppy than the one before it. 

It was weirdly hot, listening to the slick sounds of your mouth against his, kissing so desperately in his car. Your cunt gushed slick, and when you couldn’t help but pitch forward, grinding your clit down on your seat, your mouth parted in a wide, noiseless gasp. 

Jeonghan parted from you, his lips in a little grin. “So needy,” he cooed. Jeonghan pressed a final kiss to your mouth. “You ready?”

At your nod, Jeonghan was taking out the keys and opening the car door. You scrambled to leave your seat, shoving the seat belt back inside the car when it tried to hang out. 

Jeonghan was fumbling with his keys, leaning against the car when you joined him. His black hair was obscuring his face, and for a moment you were confused. 

Then he sighed, one of his hands reaching up and pushing his hair out of his face. He gave you a sharp look, his eyes hard. “What a greedy slut I’ve got on my hands, hm?”

Realization and heat flooded your system. You gaped, eyes widening a little. 

Jeonghan shook his head, pushing off of the car. He crossed to you, his hands settling on your waist. “Imagine how it looked to everyone else at that party, Y/n. Seungcheol was practically wrapped around you, his eyes fucking you right there in front of me. And you just let him.”

He laughed, a humorless thing that had your heart dipping down into the pit of your stomach. One of his hands wiggled up underneath your shirt, fingers lightly digging into your hip. “God. I bet every single bastard in that place thinks he’s the one fucking you at night. Do you think? Do you think that Mingyu thinks it’s Seungcheol making you cry at night with his dick, thinks it’s Seungcheol who makes your cunt seep so much wet that it could drown a man?”

You were saying his name, though no sound left your lips. Jeonghan shook his head, long lashes fluttering as he closed his eyes to further envelope himself in the role. “Do you think Seungcheol dreams of it? I bet he does. I bet he’s going to go home tonight and stick his hands down his pants and think of you.”

“Jeonghan!” You finally gasped, your hand, seemingly of its own will, reaching up and slapping his shoulder. 

His eyes flew open, his mouth splitting into a smile that you could only describe as villainous. “Oh? Are you trying to feign innocence? Trying to pretend that you’re some little perfect princess? Trying to convince yourself that you have no part in all this?”

“I --” You gulped. Jeonghan parted from you, though one of his hands remained on you. He used it to guide you away from the car and towards the building. “Seungcheol’s your friend, Jeonghan.”

“You think that matters?” Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “Think friendship matters when it comes to this?”

“He wouldn’t.” Jeonghan’s hand slides down your waist and to your ass as the two of you come upon the stairs, softly pushing and guiding you up the stairs. “Seungcheol isn’t like that.”

Jeonghan laughed. “And if he is? Do you know what it’s like, little dove? Knowing that it’ll be your girl that your best friend’s thinking about tonight when he fucks the nearest cunt? Knowing that it’s your girl who is so blissfully unaware?”

“Or,” Jeonghan began, holding out the word as the two of you ascended onto your floor. He used his grip on you to tug you close, your side against his. “Is that what you’re wanting?”

“Jeonghan!” You snapped. He shook out the keys, long fingers finding the correct one and sticking it into the keyhole. “You’re just being bullheaded about this. You’re making a mountain out of a mole hole.”

“Yeah?” He pushed open the door, immediately flicking on the light. Then he was yanking the keys out of the hole, both of his hands going to your hips. Jeonghan practically shoved you inside the apartment, though his grip was secure. Once the two of you were inside he slammed the door shut, throwing the keys onto the floor. 

One of his hands moved from your hip to cradle the back of your head, and then he was pushing you up against the door. Jeonghan’s hand kept your head from slamming against it, and once you were settled he used the grip on your hair to angle your face up towards him. “You really think I’m just being stubborn?”

Your lips were already parted, your heavy breathing drying them out. You gulped, running your tongue over them and not missing how his dark eyes seemed to zero in on your mouth. “Yes. You’re being -- you’re being ridiculous, Yoon Jeonghan. There’s nothing to be jealous about?”

“Nothing?” He practically hissed the word. Jeonghan pressed himself against you, wedging his leg between yours, knee knocking against the door. His other arm came up and trapped you, keeping you still. “Nothing to be jealous about, sweetheart? So tell me, then, if you’re so smart. Tell me that every single time Seungcheol watched your lips, tell me that every single time his hand went to your thigh, every time he leaned in so close --”

At this Jeonghan lowered his head, his warm breath hitting your face. You could count his eyelashes. 

“-- he wasn’t imagining kissing you, wasn’t imaging fucking you right there on that couch in front of me, making me watch.

“Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me I’m just jealous over nothing.”

You licked your lips again, feeling trapped. You knew, logically, that all of what Jeonghan had just said were lies. Seungcheol never watched your mouth when you spoke, his hand had never gone even close to your thigh. He never leaned as close as Jeonghan was now, so close that you could just push up to the tips of your toes and your lips would be on his. 

But Jeonghan, looming over you, exuded a predator waiting to pounce. His eyes were so dark they were practically black, focused on you. His body was caging you in, leaving you no room to wiggle. 

“You’re --” Your hands moved to settle on his arms, squeezing. “You’re jealous over nothing, Yoon Jeonghan.”

He growled as soon as his name left your lips. Jeonghan’s hand in your hair tightened, and he used the hold to bare your neck. Immediately his lips were on it, biting. 

A loud gasp left you, your eyes squeezing shut. 

Jeonghan’s tongue smoothed over the bite, trying to take away the sting. Then his lips were traveling, skimming, trailing his tongue over your skin and causing gooseflesh to pebble. A little whine escaped you. 

“There we are,” he murmured. He reattached his lips to your skin, beginning to suck. While he worked at bruising and marking your neck, he raised the leg that was between your thighs. Once his knee bumped at your cunt you were folding, grinding down on it as if it was his cock. 

“Jeonghan,” you moaned, feeling something begin to build. Pressure was mounting in your cunt, and you used Jeonghan’s thigh to rub off as if the two of you were horny teenagers who couldn’t even make it to the bed. 

“How needy you are,” he breathed against your neck. He released your hair, his fingers moving to ghost over your neck and the marks he left. You couldn’t help but hiss as he pressed his fingers into a particular spot, wincing. “You’re so fucking needy. No wonder you were off fucking with Seungcheol. Just can’t help yourself, can you? As soon as your boyfriend is looking away you’re searching for the nearest dick.”

You shook your head, hands squeezing at his shoulders and nails digging in. “No! Not -- not the nearest -- not Cheol --”

Jeonghan laughed, moving away from you. His hands settled on your hips, guiding you into a harsh ryuthym as you grinded down on his thigh. “Here you are fucking yourself on my thigh and still thinking about him. I bet you could get off like this, can’t you? Get off on my thigh like a little slut.”

Biting on your lip, you shook your head. “Won’t! I won’t, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan hummed. “I bet you would if it was Seungcheol.”

“Wouldn’t! I wouldn’t --” A particular drag of your cunt against his leg had your back arching, mouth widening and eyes shutting. Pleasure shot through you, as if you were doing something more than just using your boyfriend’s thigh. 

“You would,” Jeonghan argued. “So needy you don’t even need a cock.”

“I need it,” you whined, shaking your heard. Your hands moved from his shoulders, going to grip at his hair. Then you were lowering his head, forcing Jeonghan closer. “Need your cock, Jeonghan.”

He didn’t get a chance to do anything before your mouth was on his, devouring. You took his lower lip between both of yours, sucking. Jeonghan let out a little moan, his fingers digging into your hips and stilling him. He ignored your whine. Instead Jeonghan focused on your mouth, shoving his tongue inside of it, forcing his spit into your mouth, using it, fucking it.

Lungs burning, you pulled away from him. You couldn’t manage to go far, smearing your combined saliva over his mouth and chin as you fought to catch your breath. 

Jeonghan squeezed your hips. “All good, dove?”

You nodded, hands releasing his hair. 

“Give me the safe word, darling,” Jeonghan pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Need to know you’re not all spent out from just kissing.”

You rolled your eyes, finally straightening. Jeonghan’s eyes were twinkling, though they hadn’t lost that dark, predatory look. “Green.”

His mouth returned to yours, pressing sloppy kisses to your lips. His hands moved from your hips, dipping inside of your jeans. You fought the urge to grind down on his thigh as Jeonghan’s fingers made quick work of your button and zipper, his fingers hooking into your jeans and underwear and pulling them over the curve of your ass. 

You stepped out of your jeans, and he was kicking them away. Jeonghan’s hands went to your hips and he was grinding his knee back up into your cunt, the fabric of his jeans dragging deliciously against you. You couldn’t help the little cry that left you, tilting your head back and letting it hit the door. 

“I don’t think you deserve my cock just yet,” Jeonghan murmured, leading your hips into motion. He had your clit dragging down on his jeans, insuring that every tilt back or forward had your clit moving over hte fabric, ensuyring that your cunt was soaking his pants. “Gotta earn it. Especially after your little show with Seungcheol.”

You shook your head. “Jeonghan, want your dick. I want it, please.”

“How prettily you beg,” Jeonghan laughed, though there was no happiness, no joy in it. “Love it when you beg. But you’re gonna have to give me more than that, my pretty little slut. Come on, dove. I’m giving you my thigh like a good boyfriend does. If you’re so devoted for me, like you’re claiming you are, you can get off just with my thigh. Can’t you? I know you can, sweetheart. I can feel your juices soaking my pants, can feel your little hole fluttering. Just have to give me one orgasm, lovely. Come on, cum for me.”

The cry that left you was absurdly loud. Your back arched against the door, your hips coming up and off of Jeonghan. He cursed, wrapping one of his arms around your waist to hold you in place while his other hand went to your cunt. 

Jeonghan’s fingers went to your clit, working at it furiously. You were still cumming, cries and moans leaving you freely. 

As soon as you were finished, panting and squeezing your eyes closed, you relaxed against the door. Jeonghan wrapped both of his arms around you, pulling you into him fully. “Good job, sweetheart. Knew you could do it for me.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. Once you caught your breath, you pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Okay. Green.”

Jeonghan pulled back, one of his hands moving to your face. He reached up and tucked your hair back from your face, smoothing it and wiping off the sweat that had begun to accumulate. “You look like I’ve been fucking you all night.”

You laughed, breathless. “I feel like it.”

“Oh?” Jeonghan’s hands resumed their place on your hips, fingers digging in. You gasped, eyes wide and looking up at him. “But I’m not done with you yet, little dove. In fact, I don’t think we’ve even started.”

Then he was using his grip to hoist you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. Jeonghan moved from the door, stepping further into the hall. 

“Wait.” As soon as the word left your lips Jeonghan was pausing, eyes on your face. You tugged on one of the dark strands of hair. “Boots. Have to take off your boots.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, but then he was setting you on the floor. “Way to kill the mood, little dove. Go wait for me on the bed.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, jumping onto your toes to press a quick kiss to his chin. Then you were taking off down the hall, ignoring the sound of your boyfriend grumbling behind you. 

As soon as you were in your bedroom you were shucking off your socks, leaving them in the doorway. You undressed the rest of the way, leaving your clothes in a trail to your bed. 

You practically threw yourself onto it, sprawling out. You could hear Jeonghan stomping about, moving from the hall and into the bathroom. 

Absentmindedly, your hands began to wander over your body. Your fingers trailed over your stomach, leaving a tingling path behind them. You pressed them to your nipples, neary hissing in pain from how erect they were. Unable to help yourself you rolled them, toes curling in delight. 

“Well well,” Jeonghan began from the doorway. You hurriedly sat up, not having heard him leave the bathroom. “If this is a present to make up for your little act with Seungcheol, I’d consider you maybe a little bit forgiven.”

“Only a little?” You joked, wrinkling your nose at him. “After the whole incident at the door? Only a little?”

Jeonghan laughed, walking further into the room. You watched, eager, as he tugged at the sleeves of his jacket. Jeonghan undressing, you had come to discover, was just as good as undressing him yourself. He always went slow, letting you take in the sight. 

He draped his jacket over your desk chair, his forearms flexing. His black tank top clung to his torso, revealing the sharp angles of his collarbone and showing off his long, pale neck. Jeonghan, though not considerably buff, was lean. He didn’t have the biggest biceps or thighs or whatever of his friends, but still you watched his biceps clench as he worked at undoing his watch, watched his muscles jump as he gripped the bottom of his tank top and began pulling. 

You don’t know exactly what noise escaped you as his chest was revealed, but you were so turned on that you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. Your eyes roamed over his pale chest, taking in the shape of pecs, the soft little curve of his waist. 

Yoon Jeonghan was many things, many contradictory things. He was sweet and kind, mischievous and impulsive. He was the first person you turned to for comfort, the last when you had a secret. He was an angel; a devil. 

But one thing that was hard fact, you knew, was that Yoon Jeonghan was absolutely beautiful. 

His hands moved to his pants, which he had left undone. You moved from your spot on the bed, shifting to perch at the edge and watch. Jeonghan began moving closer, pushing his pants down. 

As soon as he was close enough you were reaching for him. You tucked your hands underneath the band of his underwear, pulling. His cock slapped against his stomach once freed, red and angry, white precum pulsing from the tip. 

You liked your lips, moving to grab his dick. 

Immediately his hands were around your wrists, pulling your hands away from him. You gasped, looking up at him, affronted. “Jeonghan!”

He gave you a sly little look, shaking his head. “Come on. You think cumming on my thigh was enough to make me forget about your little flirtation with Seungcheol?”

Jeonghan used his grip on your wrists to pull you up and off the bed. The sudden motion had you tipping forward and flat into his chest, face pressing against the fabric of his tank top. He still smelled like the expensive cologne he wore, still smelled sharp and elegant, like wood and richness. 

“Please,” he scoffed, releasing his hold on one of your wrists to reach up and press your hair back from your face. Undoubtedly you looked horrible. You probably looked like -- well, you probably looked like you had orgasmed against a door. Still Jeonghan looked at you hungrily, drinking in the way you pulled at his hold, the little breath that left you when he refused to let go. “Do you really think I’d be satisfied watching you get off on my leg? Just anyone could lend you their thigh, little dove.”

He leaned down, his face inches from yours. His breath was warm against your face when he spoke. “But I know only one person who can fuck as you as good as you deserve.”

“Yeah?” You replied, breathless. His eyes were so black that you could barely differentiate between the pupil and iris. “And who’s that?”

Jeonghan chuckled then, but you knew he didn’t find anything funny about what you had said. He tilted your chin up towards him with one of his fingers, his thumb running over your bottom lip. Obedient, you opened your mouth for him and let Jeonghan slip his thumb inside. You wrapped your lips around it, hollowing them and sucking. 

“What a good girl,” he hummed, his eyes narrowed in on where his thumb disappeared into your mouth. “Too bad you’re good for just anyone.”

Jeonghan removed his thumb from your mouth. Horridly, you followed, mouth still open to take it back in. He gripped your jaw, holding you in place. “Ah-ah, little dove. Sit down on the edge of the bed for me.”

He released you. The sudden freedom from his body had you staggering, unbalanced from leaning against Jeonghan. His hands went to your elbows almost immediately, adjusting you to be upright once more. “All good?”

At your nod, Jeonghan was pushing you back onto the bed. You watched as he slid his pants and underwear the rest of the way down his legs, revealing his soft, ivory white thighs and calves. You wanted to reach out and hold them, to press your fingers into his skin and watch as your fingers imprinted on him. 

Instead you sat still, eyeing him. Jeonghan went to the standing mirror in the room, adjusting it. When he tilted it to the bed, realization hit you. “Can you see yourself, Y/n?”

You gulped a little, shifting slightly. “Yeah. I can see.”

“Good.” He stalked back to the bed, eyeing you. “Now stand up.”

You obeyed. Jeonghan sat where you had been previous, leaning back on one hand. “Get in my lap.”

You hesitated. 

Jeonghan immediately turned his sharp eyes on you, narrowing them. “What are you doing? You were so desperate to show off for me earlier when you were with Seungcheol. Are you getting shy for me now? Now after you’ve came on my thigh, after you’ve soaked your panties? Or do you only show off for Seungcheol?”

You shook your head. You went to him, and once you were close enough his hands were on your waist, turning you around. Jeonghan guided you onto his lap, pressing you down so you were trapping his dick underneath your ass. He held you down for a moment, grinding his hips up into you, letting his dick rub against you. 

“What a good little dove,” he hummed, releasing you. Jeonghan reached around you, grabbing your thighs and spreading them. “Hook them on either side of me.”

Slowly, like prey trying not to move too quickly as to alert the predator stalking them from the grass, you spread your thighs. You tucked your feet behind his thighs. The cold air of the room pressed oppressively against your cunt, which had been kept warm by the heat of your arousal, causing you to shiver against Jeonghan. 

“Look at how you glisten,” Jeonghan said, his hands settling on your thighs. “Look in the mirror, sweetheart.”

Helpless, you couldn’t help but drag your eyes to the mirror. You were completely bare, offering yourself to it. You could see where your feet were wrapped around his legs, how his pale hands contrasted against the skin of your thighs. His large dark eyes watching you from over your shoulder, the little smile that he didn’t even try to hide. Your nipples, the way your breast hung, your tongue dragging over your lips. 

Your cunt, bare of any cloth covering it, and the wetness that gushed from it.

“How pretty,” Jeonghan said. 

You turned your face from the mirror, trying to face him. As quick as lightning his hand was on your chin, directing you back towards the mirror. Jeonghan hooked his chin over your shoulder, curling his lip at you, trusting you to be looking at him through the mirror. “Eyes on the mirror, darling. I want you to keep your eyes open and on the mirror at all times. Want you to make sure you know just who’s fucking you tonight.”

“Jeonghan --”

“That’s right,” he cooed, squeezing mouth shut with his hand. “And that’s the only name you ever need to remember.”

Then he released you, his hand smoothing over your skin. You watched his long, elegant fingers, so thin and yet always seemingly so thick when they were buried to the knuckle inside of your cunt, travel down your neck. Your skin pebbled, gooseflesh rising, as his hand traveled. He pressed his hand down over one of your breasts, grabbing it roughly. You watched, transfixed, as he palmed at it, rubbing and kneading. 

“Jeonghan,” you sighed, eyes glancing up and meeting his in the mirror. “Hannie, please.”

His fingers took your nipple, pinching. You let out a little cry, face contorting as he manipulated it, stretching and rubbing and tweaking it. His other hand came to join the first with your other breast, abusing your nipples. 

You wiggled in his grasp, trying to get away from his evil hands. Jeonghan hushed you, moving to still your hip. Your message had worked, however, and his hands traveled from your breasts to over your stomach before they dipped between your thighs. 

It was odd, watching his hands spread open your thighs in the mirror. You could see how his fingers skimmed over the inside of your thighs, stimulating the area and making you shiver. Whenever his fingers neared your cunt you couldn’t help but clench, helpless, yearning for him to just sink them inside of you already. 

Finally, after what seemed to be the hundredth time of him teasing you, you broke. You began turning in his hold, whining. “Jeonghan, please --”

Immediately his hand was on your jaw, pushing you to look back to the mirror. “What did I say, you little slut?” He forced his hand back between your thighs, wedging them open. “Keep your eyes on the mirror. You wanted this, remember.”

With two of his fingers he was spreading the lips of your pussy, showing you off in the mirror. He laughed. “Look at how fucking wet you are. I’ve barely done anything to you. How long have you been like this, little dove? All night? Since the car? Have you been wishing, thirsting for my cock in your tiny cunt? I bet you have. I bet you’ve been wet ever since I kissed you on the curb outside of that house, you little slut.

“In fact,” he said, his lips pressing against the shell of your ear. “I bet you’ve been wet since you sat with Seungcheol. I bet you’ve been wet the entire you talked to him, knowing that I was watching you. Knowing that I wanted nothing more than to take you over the side of the couch right in front of Seungcheol and make watch, make him watch as I fuck your cunt until tears pour from your pretty eyes.”

Slowly, tauntingly, Jeonghan’s fingers dipped inside of your pussy. Not enough to do anything other than to gather your wetness but it still had you gasping, arching up into him. 

Jeonghan removed his hand, raising it up to the light. “So wet. I bet you’re soaking the bed right now.”

Jeonghan shifted, bringing his hand to his mouth. You couldn’t help but turn your head and watch as his lips closed around his digits, as his cheeks hollowed out and he drank in your pussy juice. 

He released his fingers from his mouth with a pop, licking his lips as if he had just tasted the nectar of the gods instead of your cunt. “Fuck. I could taste your cunt all day.”

His hand returned to your pussy, fingers tracing over your folds. You spread your legs involuntarily, subconsciously hoping he would take pity on you and shove his fingers in. Jeonghan tilted his head, and you could feel his hair brush against your bare shoulder. “What’s this? Eager, aren’t we?”

You nodded. “Please,” you whispered, eyeing him in the mirror. “Please, Jeonghan.”

He laughed against you, burying his face into your shoulder. Jeonghan pressed a kiss into the skin there, his lips brushing against your skin as you spoke. “Please what, darling? You have to use your words.”

“Your fingers,” you stuttered, canting your hips up. “Please use your fingers on me.”

Jeonghan settled his chin on your shoulder, pouting at you from over your shoulder. “Hm. But you have to say my name.”

Your eyes moved to his hand, zeroing in on the movement. “Jeonghan.”

He tsked, and you both watched and felt as his finger tapped against your cunt. If you had more of a presence of mind you would be ashamed about how eagerly your hips sought out his fingers, about how your cunt gushed fluid and about how desperately you needed him. 

Because you needed him. You needed Jeonghan. You needed his fingers inside of you, needed them arrowing against your core, needed them fucking your pussy. You needed to feel his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, needed him to make you feel full. You needed his mouth on your skin, needed him wrapped around you. 

Before Jeonghan, you never knew what it meant to want. You wanted to eat, wanted a million dollars. But you never knew what it meant to want something carnally, not to this degree, not to where you were willing to do absolutely anything if it meant he would fuck you. 

“Again, sweet one,” he murmured, voice like silk in your ear. He always had a beautiful voice, even when he was telling lies. But somehow Jeonghan’s voice seemed even more enchanting like this, in your ear and whispering dirty commands. “Say my name again.”

“Yoon Jeonghan,” you said, as clear as glass. 

As soon as his name left your lips he was dipping two of his fingers inside of your cunt. A loud gasp left you, your head tilting back against him and eyes fluttering shut. It felt so good. It felt as if this was what you had been missing all your life, as if his two fingers were the oxygen you needed to breathe, as if he could provide the key to Heaven with just his two fucking fingers --

And then he was arubtly pulling them from you, leaving your hole clenching and hungry. You cried out, curling against him, powerless. “Jeonghan!”

“I said,” he began, voice just as smooth as before and yet carrying sternness that had you stilling against him, “to keep your eyes on the mirror.”

 You turned back to face the mirror, chest heaving. You looked pathetic. Your mouth was wide, your legs spread, pussy bared for the whole world to see. 

“Take your eyes off the mirror again and you’ll be left like this,” he warned, the hand on your hip squeezing harshly. “I’m serious. I want your eyes on the mirror until I tell you to take them off. Or are you such a desperate slut that you can’t even do that? Should I call Seungcheol, then? Have him come and fuck you?”

You shook your head, eyes on the mirror like he said. “No. No, Jeonghan, please. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Good,” he said, rubbing your hip. His fingers smoothed over your cunt, petting it. “I don’t want to have to leave you all desperate on the bed, little dove. You know that if you’re suffering, I’m suffering.”

If you had more presence of mind, you’d be scoffing at his words, able to pick apart the apathy in them. But as it was, your mind was intent on one thing. 

“I’ll be good,” you repeated. “I’ll be good, Jeonghan.”

He shot you a smile in the mirror. “See? It isn’t hard, is it?”

Jeonghan’s fingers sunk into you slowly, the drag of them against your walls making your toes curl. You watched, captivated, with how your cunt seemingly devoured his fingers, as they slowly disappeared from your sight in the mirror. 

“God, your cunt really was desperate,” he said, laughing a little. Jeonghan settled his fingers fully inside of you, leaving them there, letting them fill you. “Look at us, Y/n. It’s like we’re meant for each other, don’t you think? Like you were meant to be here, sitting in my lap, my fingers buried to the knuckle in your cunt.

“And can you feel how tightly you grip my fingers?” Jeonghan asked, slowly sliding his fingers from your pussy. Your cunt protested, clenching down on his digits. You couldn’t help but whine, a high thing that pierced through the bedroom. He held his fingers up in front of you, spreading them. Strings of your juices hung from his fingers, dripping down over the ridges of his digits and down his hand, traveling to his arm. He pressed a kiss to your ear. “And look at this, dove. Look at how you’re dripping down my hand. You’re absolutely soaked. I bet I could slide my cock right inside of your cunt.”

You let out a long, shuddering breath. Your hands went to his hips, reaching back and squeezing. Shifting, you relaxed back against him, offering your cunt. “Jeonghan, please.”

He kissed your ear again, murmuring softly. “That’s right, my darling dove. Jeonghan. It’s Jeonghan who makes you this wet, it’s Jeonghan who gets you.”

You watched as he settled his hand against your side, the stickiness of your slick wetting your skin. Jeonghan slowly slid his hand down over your skin, the stimulation causing your skin to pebble and your toes to curl against his calf. You clenched when his hand made it to your groin, watching in the mirror as his long fingers neared your cunt. 

“How needy,” he commented. “What a needy slut.”

Jeonghan dipped his fingers between your pussy lips, taunting. He let them drag against your clit, brush against your hole. He did nothing other than gather your juices, petting your bare cunt. 

“Please,” you whispered, brow furrowing in desperation. You could see how your stomach heaved from you fighting to catch your breath, trying to steady yourself from the onslaught of torture brought on by your boyfriend. Your thighs were shaking, tightening and releasing with every brush of his fingers. 

“Fine,” he sighed, as if he was being burdened. “I guess I’ll give you my hand.”

Then his fingers were shoving inside of you, all at once. You yelled out, arching back against him, fighting to keep your eyes on your trembling figure in the mirror. Your cunt quivered around his fingers, sucking them in deeper. Jeonghan complied, his smile pressed against your neck as he angled his fingers to reach further inside of you, easily finding that spot in you that had you moaning, thighs hurriedly shutting in an attempt to trap his hand. 

“Fuck,” Jeonghan mumbled. Your eyes went to him in the mirror. His eyes were huge and dark, stuck on the spot where his hand disappeared into your cunt. 

He untucked his thumb from his hand, setting it on the lip of your pussy. He swiped his thumb against you for a moment, hooking his fingers into you and striking your core. 

The sounds made by your cunt were so lewd that you, if you, again, had the presence of mind, would be ashamed. 

Then Jeonghan was moving his thumb, wedging it into your cunt and underneath your hood. He shoved it meanly on your clit before launching a hurried attack against it, his fingers slamming that spot inside of you in time with his thumb. 

Within moments you were sobbing, tilting your head back against his shoulder. Your orgasm tore through you suddenly, causing tears to streak from your eyes and more fluid to gush from your cunt. You couldn’t do anything but cry through it, helpless as Jeonghan’s hand continued to work at your pussy, his voice filling your fogged mind with sweet little murmurs of affirmation. 

Your heart was beating so loudly that you could barely hear Jeonghan, feeling as though your heart were about to leap from your chest and sprint off. Looking in the mirror you could see the way your chest heaved in an attempt to breathe, the way your entire body sagged against Jeonghan as his hand continually worked within you. 

Finally you shook your head, whining. “Hannie, Hannie.”

Jeonghan pressed a kiss to your temple. Slowly, gently, he began withdrawing his hand from your cunt. At first your pussy tightened, but ultimately gave up, releasing him. 

He wiped his hand off on the bed, but even then when he settled his arm across your stomach, pressing you close, you could feel the stickiness on his skin from your cunt. Your release leaked from your cunt, your eyes caught on the mirror as you watched the fluid make its way down your crevice, dripping onto the bed. 

Your eyes flicked up in the mirror, locking on his. Jeonghan gave a small, inquisitive tilt of his head. 

You nodded back. 

Jeonghan pressed another kiss to your face, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. Then he was lifting you up and shoving you off onto the bed beside him, a loud gasp of surprise escaping you. 

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” he said, standing up off of the bed. Jeonghan’s hand went to his cock, hissing slightly as he began rubbing at it. “Lay across the width of the bed. Head towards the mirror.”

He rounded the bed as you did as he said, moving slowly, your entire body protesting. Your cunt was fluttering weakly, intrigued by him but so, so sensitive from the two orgasms. 

Jeonghan crawled onto the bed with his knees, looming behind you. He shoved your thighs apart, baring your cunt to him once again. You couldn’t help but bury your face into the blanket, muffling the groan that left you. 

Then there was an acute sting of pain in your ass, and you immediately were clenching up. You raised your head, this time witnessing Jeonghan’s hand descend through the air and slap your ass. 

Pain and heat exploded through you at the contact, and you couldn’t help but weakly curl up in an attempt to move away from him. Jeonghan quickly caught you, both of his hands going to your calves and yanking you flat onto the bed. 

“Where do you think you’re going, little dove?” The nickname, which was always filled with such sweetness and love, seemed to hold none of it. Instead it felt cold, taunting, something used to diminish you. Jeonghan’s hands then went to your hips, lifting them up and off the bed, presenting you for him. “I said to keep your eyes on the mirror, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” you stuttered out, breathless. You watched in the mirror as Jeonghan straightened. One of his hands began kneading at your ass, aggravating the stinging sensation left from his spanking. His other hand disappeared, obscured by your body in the mirror, but you knew he was reaching for his dick. 

“I just need you to hold still like a good little dove,” Jeonghan announced, his eyes looking down between your bodies. “Just need you to be still and let me fuck you like the slut you are, okay? Just be a good tight, warm hole for me.”

You braced your elbows on the bed, getting leverage to help present yourself to him. For a moment you were still, feeling nothing, watching in the mirror as Jeonghan focused on your cunt. 

Then the head of his dick was pressing against your hole, so large and alien compared to the fingers he had prepped you with. You couldn’t help but moan, eyes fighting to stay open. 

Jeonghan slowly breached you, letting you feel every inch of his cock. Your walls stretched around his dick, clenching and fluttering, at odds with how sensitive and overwhelmed your cunt felt from the past two orgasms but how desperate it was to feel his cock. 

“There,” he murmured, smoothing both of his hands over your ass. Jeonghan shifted the last few centimeters, giving you all of his cock. 

You couldn’t help but grind back, a loud sob escaping you. It felt like so much to have him inside. Every single part of your body was honed in on his cock, how it expanded your walls. Your body welcomed the intrusion and fought against it, but in the end you were but Jeonghan’s little dove, caught in his hands. 

Jeonghan moved his grip to your hips, fingernails sinking into your skin. You watched as he moved your hips away, could feel the drag of his cock, which seemed so much more than usual, so much longer and thicker. 

Dumbly you shook your head in protest as he guided his cock out of your cunt. “Hannie, please, please.”

“Quiet,” he commanded, looking at you in the mirror. His black hair was disheveled, his eyes narrowed. You watched as his pale chest heaved with effort to control himself, watched as he brought back his hips. 

Which meant you should’ve been prepared for when he snapped his hips forward, shoving his cock back into the warmth of your cunt. 

But you weren’t. 

You let out a loud shout, falling forward onto the bed. You scrambled against it, trying to straighten yourself and raise back onto your elbows. As soon as you dug your elbows into the bedding, your eyes meeting themselves in the mirror, Jeonghan was withdrawing abruptly from your cunt. 

He set a harsh pace, not allowing your cunt to adjust to his cock further. His fingers dug into your flesh, his cock bullied your core. The loud slaps of his skin hitting yours filled the room, but you could barely hear them over the constant string of moans and sobs that left your throat. 

Your fingers clambered on the sheets, desperate for some kind of grip. Jeonghan refused to let up, the pace burning. You could feel his balls slap against your cunt as he drove into you, his hips jackhammering into you. 

It was frantic, loud, messy. He was a flurry of movement, shoving his cock into you repeatedly. Each thrust filled you to the brim, seemingly reaching all the way to the back of your throat. It was so much, it was so fucking much -- 

“Jeonghan --” You gasped, hips beginning to push back into him. “Feel like -- feel full --”

He said nothing, his face twisted in concentration. Jeonghan’s gasps were quiet, his panting nearly unnoticeable. But you noticed. How could you not? He didn’t light up on his fucking, however out of breath he was, keeping the harsh pace that had your ass already feeling sore. 

“Hannie --” You sobbed, feeling something burning at the corners of your eyes. “Hannie, Hannie, Hannnie --”

Then you felt something gush from your cunt, as if all of your juices had released at once. Immediately you were squealing, falling down flat on the bed. 

Jeonghan cursed loudly, laying down across your back. The change in position had his dick reaching further, had you crying, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and getting in your mouth. 

Then he rammed into your cunt twice more, loud moans pouring from his lips. His released shot into you, the warm fluid squirting deep into your cunt and filling you. Jeonghan came thrice like that, more spurts of cum forcing its way out of his dick and finding home in your warm, abused cunt. 

Jeonghan slumped against your back, one of his hands shooting out to keep your body from falling flat. His chest heaved against you, the arm around you moving down to your cunt. 

“You gotta cum,” he threatened, hand moving to your clit. You sobbed, shaking your head against the blankets. “Yes, you do. You looked away from the mirror, little dove. This is your punishment.”

Your body jumped in his hold as his hand worked your clit, moving sharply and precisely against you. It probably took only a minute to get another orgasm ripping through you, but in your exhausted mind it felt only like a second. 

Then you were collapsing against the bed, his body molding into yours. You panted into the blanket, taking loud, desperate gasps to try and catch your breath. 

Neither of you spoke, fighting to breathe. Jeonghan continued to lay on top of you, his dick still inside of you. When you shifted you could feel his cum ooze from your cunt, and that was enough to get you out of your post-sex haze.

“Jeonghan,” you moaned, reaching back to shove weakly at his hip. Jeonghan groaned into your back. “I’m so wet ‘n sticky. Gotta clean me up.”

“Not my fault,” he mumbled, mouth warm against your skin. “You’re the one that squirted all over me.”

You froze, body clenching, including your cunt. A twinge of discomfort and pain shot through you at this, and you ignored Jeonghan’s little groans of disapproval as you shoved him off of you. 

His dick flopped out of your cunt easily, his cum leaking freely from your hole and mixing with your own release. You slowly, tentatively, reached back to feel the mixture. 

“This is disgusting,” you mumbled, pouting. 

“It’s wonderful,” Jeonghan laughed, his lips pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh. “Can’t believe you squirted.”

“Didn’t know I could,” you returned, brow furrowed. You moved to roll onto your stomach but immediately got met with a sharp pain that shot through you, your muscles protesting. 

Jeonghan’s hands went to your body, stilling you. “Don’t move. You’ll be sore after all that, little dove. I’ll get a wet cloth and be right back.”

You nodded, flopping back down on the bed. You felt the bed shift as Jeonghan got off, the man stumbling a little. You waited for him to round the bed, to make for the bathroom. When he didn’t you shifted, looking over your shoulder.

Jeonghan was staring at your cunt, eyes intent on the spot. 

“Yoon Jeonghan!” You shrieked, kicking out. He laughed, startled from his staring. “Stop that!”

“Can’t help it,” he said, the evil little giggles escaping from his mouth so at odds with the filth that had left him twenty minutes before. “You look so good covered in my cum, sweetheart.”

“Take a picture,” you muttered, sending him a pout. “It’ll last longer.”

Jeonghan looked at you, eyes wide. “Can I? Please? I’ll lock it away and won’t let anyone ever look at it.”

You groaned, turning and pressing your face into the blanket. It was soaked from the combination of your tears and drool. “Fine. But you have to send it to me.”

Jeonghan scrambled around the bed, practically sprinting to get to his jacket. He nearly ripped it from the chair it hung on, hurriedly grabbing his phone. 

You hummed, tapping your foot against the bed as Jeonghan returned. One of his hands went to your thigh, spreading them back out and revealing your thoroughly fucked cunt. You heard his camera shutter go off. 

Then his hand was moving to your cunt. You let out a loud noise from overstimulation as he peeled apart your pussy lips, getting a better shot of the mixture. 

“There,” he said, satisfied. “Absolutely perfect.”

He pressed a kiss to your ass before moving back off the bed. You watched as your boyfriend left the room, admiring the pictures. Your eyes couldn’t help but travel down to his ass, watching it flex as he walked away. 

Jeonghan returned a minute later, a wash rag in one hand. He threw his phone onto the bed, moving back down your body. Gently, as to not further abuse your sore cunt, Jeonghan began cleaning. He carefully spooned his cum from your hole, ran the rag over your cunt. 

The action, no matter how gentle he meant it to be, had your toes curling and your body attempting to wiggle away in protest. Jeonghan hushed you, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your hip. “I’m sorry, baby. But we can’t have you laying in cum all night.”

“I know,” you whined. “Hurts though. I’m sore.”

Jeonghan whined back, and you could see him mimicking your pout from the mirror. “I know. Poor darling, so thoroughly fucked by her boyfriend”

Realization shot through you at his words, quickly followed by mortification. You let out a little cry, digging your head into the blanket. Jeonghan, horrified that he had accidentally hurt you, immediately launched himself down the length of the bed. His hands went to your shoulders, tugging you, chanting your name.

You let Jeonghan move you, eyes wide and horrified. Jeonghan pressed down on you, hands cradling your cheeks and lips brushing over the spot between your brows.”Y/n! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Should we go to the hospital? Do I need to call your mom?”

You shook your head, your hands reaching up to still his face. “Jeonghan,” you began, voice high with hysteria, “how are we ever supposed to face Seungcheol after this?”

[toxicanonymity]

being bad and looking good.

2.8k, raider!Joel (dark) x f!reader | Raider Master SUMMARY: You look hot but get punished for acting up. WARNINGS: I8+ dubcon unsafe P in V, possessive Joel, creampie, manhandling, angst, joel makes you cry, rough, spanking, choking. He's a bad guy, not a kink practitioner: no rules. He cares, and you enjoy the dique, but you're captive. A/N: HYPOTHETICAL because I didn't want to figure out where to place it in the timeline. Set vaguely in the past. This is for a lingerie ask as well as readers who have requested feral/mad Joel or sweet pea being bad. @javier-penas-wifexx420 @arcanefox207 IMMERSABILITY: Reader has hair that can be held/pulled. Joel can lift reader. Reader has no height/size, so fill in the blanks for whether he has to bend his knees to enter you, etc.

Joel lets it slip how close the abandoned mall is, and you can't stop thinking about going there. You want to get something for him.  He always brings you things and you never have anything to give him other than food you've foraged and flowers for the trailer. One day, you insist it would be fine with Joel if you go to the mall. You make it sound like you've discussed it. Carter is skeptical, but he feels bad for you. He finally breaks down and agrees to take you. 

When you're there, you're walking through the mall and notice Carter's head turn all the way toward a particular storefront as you walk by. You wouldn't have noticed it otherwise. He keeps the same stride, but you slow down to look.

It's a lingerie store. Most of the mannequins are bare or have clothes hanging off them, but there are huge, fading posters with women of all shapes and sizes sporting lace teddies, babydolls, bralettes, strappy garters, and the floor is littered with them. 

Carter sighs when he realizes you've stopped at the store. 

As he slowly walks back to you, scratching the back of his neck, you ask, “Do you think Joel would like it if I had something from here?” The question feels almost rhetorical, but there's that bit of insecurity, too. 

“Uh, I dunno. Sure, I guess.” Carter doesn't seem comfortable. He agrees to let you go in for just a minute to see if you find something, but you have to stay in view. And you think you do. It's a two piece with a sheer, strappy top. The bottom is more modest than a thong, but it has a slit in the crotch that makes you clench your thighs together thinking about Joel.

—-

When you get home, you put it on in the bathroom so you can look at yourself in the mirror. You think it looks good, but it's not a full-length view. And you're not quite sure if it's fitting right. How much tit is supposed to be showing? How tight should it be? You put the flannel back on, but leave it open when you come out. You feel a little more covered than you are, since the nature of the fabric shows a lot. 

Carter's sitting at the kitchen table casually shuffling a deck of cards.  He looks at you for only a split second before his face hardens, and he abruptly looks away. “Jesus,” he drops the cards on the table, and the chair groans against the floor as he stands up. “The hell are ya doin’?” he awkwardly turns around, pulling up on his pants a little. 

“I just wanna know if it looks-”

“--'m sure it looks great,” Carter runs his hands through his hair in distress as he looks out the window.  Then, he tightly crosses his arms, and they stretch his sleeves even more. “Now get outta here,” he tells you. He rocks forward onto his toes, then back, waiting for you to leave. 

Is he mad? You step further into the kitchen and try to meet his eyes in the reflection. 

His voice is stern. “Go put some goddamn clothes on.” 

“Sorry, I wasn't–”

“Now.” He means it. You stand there stunned for a moment with your lip quivering. He's never been angry at you before. 

“NOW.” He points toward Joel's room, veins bulging on his hand and arm. He doesn't turn around to look at you, but you see the flush from his cheeks creeping onto his neck and ears.  

You go to your room and sniffle as you button the flannel. Then you put on a pair of shorts, curl up on the bed, and cry. 

–

After a few minutes, there's a soft knock on the bedroom door. “Ya’okay?” 

You only sniffle, “I'm sorry,” in response. 

Carter sighs. “I shouldn'ta snapped at ya, darlin’. But ya just – can't do that, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Shit, you're a pretty girl, okay? But it ain't my business how ya look. . .in somethin’ like that.” 

“. . .I know, I wasn't thinking.”

“Now, if you're dressed and wanna play rummy, I’ll deal. . .”

You smile to yourself through your tears. 

—--

You dry your eyes and come out to the kitchen, but something in the air is different as you pull out a chair and sit down.

“Carter, please forget it,” you plead and try to get him to look at you. It feels like you broke something.

He finally makes eye contact and forces a little smile. Then he concentrates on the cards as he deals. “Two, two, three, three,” he counts the cards out loud for each of you as he deals. He finishes, and while you're studying the hand you’re dealt, it's quiet. In the corner of your eye, Carter's gaze falls to your now fully-covered chest, but he quickly pulls his eyes away and looks straight down, fidgeting with his cards. You feel awful. What if he can’t look at you the same? It was stupid to try to show him. Of course it would look good to Joel, he likes everything on (and off) you.

______

When Joel gets home, you're in the bedroom alone, sitting on the bed in the lingerie and flannel. As he enters through the kitchen, his boots are heavy on the linoleum. Your heart races with a moment of doubt - how are you going to explain this? But he bursts in the room grumbling, “goddamn Harold, tryin’ to get us all killed.”  He takes his shirt off over his back, tosses it to the laundry, and looks at you. He pauses and devours the view for a few seconds before he slowly approaches, chest heaving.

He looms over you as you sit on the bed. He uses both hands to nudge the flannel off your shoulders, and it pools behind you. You take your arms out of it. He grabs a tit and rests his other hand on the nape of your neck, thumb brushing the curve of your skull. His chest lets out a low growl as he feels you. Then his fingers trail up the strap on one shoulder. He plucks it and it snaps against your skin.

Joel’s face darkens as he asks, “Where’d it come from?” When you don’t answer fast enough, his hand traces up your throat. A chill spreads across your chest. His thumb brushes the side of your neck, then slides over to lift your chin and make you look at him. “Where.”

“I wanted to do something you’d like.”

“Where,” he repeats, then clenches his jaw, waiting. 

“You said the mall wasn’t far, so–”

He raises his voice. “You went to the mall? Where was Carter?”

“It’s okay, he was there, even found a part for the van in the parking lot.” 

Joel’s nostrils flare, and he grips your jaw. “Carter took you to the mall.” 

Your eyes water with panic. “No, it wasn’t his idea--”

“To buy somethin’ like this.” 

“I wanted to get you something. I didn’t know they had this stuff —”

“He's got no business takin’ ya anywhere. And sure as hell not somewhere sexy.”

You're worried for Carter and grateful he’s not around. “I swore the mall was okay, that you wouldn’t mind. I didn’t know there was somewhere sexy,” your voice trails off. 

Joel shakes his head, nostrils flaring. “You don't say what's okay. You don't KNOW what's okay. Get up.” 

He forces you to your feet then turns you around.

“I thought you'd like it,” you sniffle. “You always do things for me.”

“He grabs your ass, lifting your butt cheek and lets it drop. He clicks his tongue. “well, I sure don't like how ya got it.”

“I'm sorry”

“Think ya need a reminder who's in charge here.”

“I know,” you sniffle in agreement, sensing what's coming. He sits down on the bed and manhandles you into lying face down over his knees. You feel a twinge of arousal even before he shifts your position and your hip brushes the hard shape in his jeans. 

You hold your breath as he brings his hand back, then it lands with a sting and you yelp at the force. You bury your mouth in your arm as he brings his hand back again. He repeats it on the other cheek and you let out a muffled whimper that sounds more aroused than you should be. 

“Like bein’ bad?” He asks, then spanks you again. 

“No.” 

His hand lands with a sting one more time and stays on your skin to grab the plush of your burning skin. “Ya like this?”

“. . .I dunno,” you whimper, unsure of the right answer.

He feels between your legs, his thick finger finding  a damp slit in the cotton crotch of the lacy underwear. He slips a finger inside the garment, giving you a shock of need when his knuckle nudges your dripping hole.  “Ya do, don't ya? Get up.” He grabs your arm and stands up, forcing you to your feet. He holds your hair and stares you down sternly. “This ain't for fun, baby, it's your safety” He lets go of your hair and looms closer. “Understand?”

You nod and reflexively back up. Something tells you it's not just about your safety. 

“AND Carter's. You tryin' to make me hurt’m?” He asks. Joel gets closer and you keep backing up toward the wall. 

“No,” you sob. “Please don't. He’s good, so good, he wouldn't even look at me. He respects you so much”

A new rage flashes across Joel's face and he lowers his voice. “He wouldn't . . .even . . .look at ya,” he mutters too calmly for your comfort. He takes a deep breath, looks you up and down again, puts his hand on your chest, fingers spread wide, and walks you harshly into the wall. His bare chest heaves. ”But ya gave him the chance, didn't ya,” Joel nods. You've dug your hole so much deeper. 

“I was only thinking about–” Joel’s hand comes to your neck as you croak out, “--you.” You don't know what you were thinking. Joel doesn't either. He slowly shakes his head, nostrils flaring. 

He pins you with his hips, and his hard cock digs into your front, making you gush.  

“Forget who ya belong to?”

“No,” you whimper. “I’m yours.”

He pulls his hips back and quickly unfastens his pants. You bite your lip to keep from moaning at the sight of his cock. It nudges under the bottom hem of the lingerie top to reach your body. You feel his skin hit your lower belly, and it makes you weak with desire. “Only wanna be yours.”

He kicks your feet apart to spread your legs, and he brings his lips to your hair. “Then ya do what I say. Understand?” 

“Yes sir,” you whisper, then he shoves his hand between your legs, using two fingers to spread the slit in the fabric of the crotch. 

“‘s’for your own good,” he adds. 

He nudges the slit with his cockhead. The fabric doesn’t open wide enough, so he rips the slit more, then you feel his tip at your wet little hole.  He holds his cock in line, then grabs your ass and shoves up into you all at once, bottoming out. The force makes your back and shoulders drag up the wall. With your feet now off the ground, your knees bend, cradling his hips. He holds you by your ass, adjusts your weight, and your back is against the wall. You balance your arms around his neck. His thick cock retreats then punches into you again. 

He's so thick, each time he pushes in, it feels like he’s taking up your whole body. He’s not looking at you; he’s looking past you. The grip of his fingers hurts enough to feel good, to feel his desperation, how much he has to have you–for him and only him. 

He grunts and growls and breathes heavily, stomach heaving against you. “You're mine, sweet pea.”

“I am,” you agree. 

“No one else can have ya.” His words get broken with the force of his thrusts.  “No one else can see ya.”

“I know.”

You moan as he buries his length in you roughly, and he mutters “goddamn,” tightening his grip on your ass. You’re overwhelmed by the fullness of his cock, his skin against yours, his breath in your hair, his body pinning you there. All of it makes your insides swell with mounting pleasure. 

“I love being yours,” you pant. 

He fucks you in relative silence for about two minutes, the room filled only with the sounds of his brutish grunts and unbridled sighs, your little moans and whimpers, and the squelch of his stiff cock pumping in and out of your dripping cunt.

He adjusts your weight and looks down at your body from time to time, letting your upper back rest against the wall as he rails into you. You’re reassured that he likes the fit, at least. Your legs wrap loosely around him. 

The pressure in your lower belly builds with each grunt, each thrust of his cock. Soon, his breath becomes shaky and the drag of his cock quickens. Then he bottoms out sharply with a groan, drawing a sigh from you as he begins to pulse. He thrusts into you slower, more controlled, and you rock slowly against the wall. The rhythmic swell of his shaft within your walls and the warm seed spilling from his tip make you clench around him. You moan his name, tighten your legs, and he sighs as your cunt chokes his cock. 

When his balls are empty, he slides out, and the fabric pulls with his cock as he withdraws and lets you down to the floor.

—-

Joel sighs, crams his wet cock into his pants, and fastens them again.

“You okay?” He asks, catching his breath. 

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Where are you going?”

“Gonna pay Carter a visit, down at the house.”

“Please, Joel, it was all my fault,” you beg. “Don’t do it.” 

“Ain’t gonna kill’m. This time.” You still don’t like the look on his face. 

You follow him across the room, reach for his arm, and your fingers land lightly on his inner elbow. He pauses, still without his shirt on, and looks down at your hand on his elbow. He turns around, reads your face, then goes over to the bed without a word. He sits and manspreads.  “I was desperate to make you happy,” you plead, fidgeting with the hem of your top.

Joel scrunches his face. “Ya do make me happy, sweet pea.”

“He didn't even wanna take me,” you insist.

“Then he’s gotta learn to say no.” 

You hesitantly come closer, unsure if he’ll turn you away, but he lets you between his legs, then you sit on his thigh and keep fidgeting with the hem of your top. 

“He says no all the time,” you assure Joel. 

“Does he,” Joel mutters skeptically.

“I made it like he would've been saying no to you.” 

Joel shakes his head, looking at your mouth. “That ain't right, but he knows better, baby.” 

“He yelled at me,” you offer, hoping it doesn't make things worse.

Joel's brow furrows and his tone sharpens. “Ya gotta stop lyin’, now. It's pissin’ me off.”

“I'm not! He was mad.”

“Oh yeah? What'd he yell?” 

“Told me to go away and put on some clothes.” 

Joel’s chin lifts to look at the ceiling and he takes a deep breath, then looks at you. “What the hell got into ya, huh?”

“I dunno,” you mumble. “Feel like I'm going crazy, stuck here all day.” Joel looks at you. “But you take good care of me,” you clarify, “and I love it here.” 

But that’s not what Joel’s thinking about. 

“Wanna fuck him? Suck his dick?”

“No!” You're on the verge of tears again. “God, Joel, please don't talk like that.” Your face is scrunched up in pain. 

“Then don't act like it.”

“I was–okay, I get it.”

Joel is quiet for a few seconds, then asks, “What if I told ya to suck his dick?” 

“No!”

“You'd say no to me?” 

“I’d ask if I really have to.” 

Joel's face slowly softens, like you found the only acceptable answer. “And why’s that?”

“Cause I only want yours.” 

“Hm,” Joel nods. 

“Please, Joel. Stay here, don't go to him. . .you can talk to him tomorrow.”

You put your arms around Joel's neck and study his pensive face. Then you bury your head in his neck and whisper “Sorry.”  His hand slowly comes to your back. You dip your head and lightly brush your lips against his collar bone, then return your face under his jaw, and he nestles his head over yours. Your wet lashes blink against his skin, and his hand slowly slides on your back. Somehow, it feels like more comfort than you deserve. 

“Ok, baby,” he whispers and wraps both arms around you.

----------

if you wanna know whether Carter sees sweet pea that way, check out he's only human.

----------

Their present-day story will continue, but I don't have an ETA, sorry. Unless the next one gets split up, it'll have fluff, two moods of smut, angst.

I appreciate all your comments that let me know what you enjoy and what curiosities you have. Thank you so much for reading, and thanks for your support. Love you all.

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Raider: @randomhoe @princessloveweird @mugshotqueen @anas-dreamer @eggnox @dindjarins-brown-eyed-girl @tulipsatmidnight @imaginary98 @neobanguniverse@quietlyignoringyou @gab-thelamb-onthemoon

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Lingerie Essentials Every Women Should Own

Simple everyday bra and underwear sets in black and nude that match your skin tone: Think of items like a lined bra and seamless thong/bikini panty set. My favorites are the SKIMS Fits Everybody Push-Up Bra paired with the matching Fits Everybody Thong and the Natori Feathers bra paired with the Natori French Cut Briefs.

Sexy yet practical bra and underwear sets: Sexier options you can still wear every day and look good under your clothes. Consider an all-lace or animal print bra with coordinating all-lace or sheer underwear – love the bra options from Chantelle, Natori, Cosabella, and Simone Perele (these are pricey, so I look for them on sale) paired with Natori or Cosabella underwear. My favorite styles are the Natori Push-Up bras (I'm super flat-chested, so I need it for my clothes to fit properly, lol – otherwise the Natori Flora Contour Underwire Bra is stunning) with the Cosabella Never Say Never Comfie Thong & Natori Bliss Allure Lace Full Brief.

Ultra-sexy bra and underwear sets: Less so for clothes, more for yourself or for show. I love Fleur Du Mal for these bra/underwear lingerie sets.

Strapless bra: Natori Feather Strapless Bra. Thank me later!!

Lace bralette: Something comfortable that still feels a bit sexy. I love the options from Journelle, Cosabella, and Natori.

Satin/silk robe: To wear after the shower or around the house. Lilysilk, Victoria's Secret, Cosabella, and Fleur Du Mal have great options.

A quality pair of black tights: I love HUE and Wolford! The control top ones always feel the best for me, personally.

Sheer black thigh-highs with lace-stay-up detailing: Natori Feather range ftw yet again!

Sheer black tights with or without back seam detailing: Hue and Wolford, always!

Simple bodysuit/shapewear bodysuit: The SKIMS ones are great.

Elevated shapewear bodysuit (in a fabric like satin, lace, or vegan leather): I love the Spanx Shaping Satin Thong Bodysuit and the Commando Faux Leather bodysuit – perfect to wear with a pair of jeans and a blazer.

High-waisted sculpting underwear: SKIMS Seamless Sculpt is my favorite (runs on the smaller side!)

Satin slip dress: Can be worn at home or with a blazer/leather jacket for a night out.

Fully lace or lace trim slip dress: If wearing it alone could run someone's life, you're doing it right. Love the one from Cosabella. If you want to wear it out, try a vegan leather bralette, an opaque black brief, and lace or sheer black tights for a "naked" dress look or black pants/denim for a night-out look. Otherwise, save this one to feel sexy while relaxing at home or to wow a partner any night of the week. If you want some ultra-glamorous options, I suggest checking out Oséree but their items are $$$$ as a fair warning.

Satin/silk cami & shorts or pants set: For some equally comfortable and sexy loungewear or pajama options. I love styles with lace trim for that added feminine touch.

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 3

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem)

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, fluffy, mild angst, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings: reader character dealing with anxiety from previous chapter (non-descriptive),hinted at trauma from fatphobia, hints of Jason's self esteem and body image issues, otherwise it's fluff central

word count: 2.2k (oops? 😅)

Chapter Selection

Ding!

I looked over at my phone, briefly considering not picking it up. When I got through my front door I had ripped my jeans off, suddenly hating everything touching me. I showered, scrubbing the night off until my skin was raw and tingling, and now I was curled up on my bed sheets, having a good cry. I didn't really want to talk to anyone right now…

Ding! Ding! … Ding!

God, whoever it was was insistent though … I sighed softly and picked it up, checking the messages:

Jason: Good morning! I am so sorry for the sudden disappearance - my phone broke on my way to visit my brother! 

3:15am

Jason: Just got back into town, so I've finally got the sim card in an old one for now.

3:17am

Jason: I feel bad, I owe you a week of good mornings! 😭

3:17am

Jason: And sorry for spamming you - I just didn't want you to think the worst for a second longer than necessary…

3:18am

I stared at the screen for a long while. Jason was back … just like Red Hood said. Huh… 

Me: Don't worry about it, shit happens!

3:40am

Jason: … What are you still doing up? 

3:41am

I briefly considered telling him everything. Maybe it would feel good to tell someone … or maybe it would feel even worse. We didn't really know each other yet, who knew how he would react? Nausea gripped my stomach and I shook my head, taking a few deep breaths before replying.

Me: Just got home is all. Picked up a late shift tonight.

3:50am

Jason: That's a hell of a late shift, that must have sucked!

3:52am

Me: … Yeah, honestly it wasn't great… 😔

3:53am

Jason: What are you doing tomorrow?

3:54am

Me: Nothing in particular, y?

3:56am

Jason: That settles it then! No more excuses, come hell or high water I will see you tomorrow!

3:56am

I stared at the screen, not sure how to feel about that idea. I did want to see him again, but I also really just wanted to sleep for 48 hours straight…

Jason: Seriously, name a time and place. We'll do anything you want! 😁

3:59am

Me: You don't have to do that, Jason - you just got back! Don't you need to work?

4:00am

Jason: Nope! We came back a day early, so I am all yours!

4:02am

Me: … All mine, huh? 😏

4:05am

Jason: 100%! Anything you want, name it!

4:06am

Me: … Gotham City Mall, meet in front of the bookstore at … say 4?

4:08am

Jason: Perfect, see you in 12 hours! Good night

4:08am

Me: Good night Jason

4:09am

I was exhausted, but couldn't seem to sleep. I was still coming down from the anxiety and adrenaline from being attacked, and now I was also nervous and tentatively excited about seeing Jason. This was the step that usually proved someone was playing games with me. I sighed softly, sliding a hand down my soft tummy. I didn't mind the way I was shaped, but other people sure had a way of making it seem like the end of the world… I silently begged the universe; let this one be good. No more games, let it be real this time…

When I finally did sleep, my dreams were filled with red. Blood all over the pavement, staining everything. Red chrome staring me down as I cried. Large hands, so gentle against my cheeks, pulling me against a warm, broad chest…

I woke with a start and peered over at my discarded clothes in a heap from the night before. Red Hood's flannel peaked out from under my ruined pants, taunting me; I was about to go on a date and I was dreaming about another man? A man I was surely never going to see again no less? That's real healthy, well done Brain.

I stepped over the clothes on the floor, not wanting to deal with the mess left over from last night, and selected a cute but comfortable outfit. I ate a quick breakfast, spent longer than I'd care to admit on my hair and makeup, and headed downstairs to catch the bus to the mall.

My anxiety grew as I approached the front doors. It’s a trick, it must be a trick. The cold air conditioning hit me in the face, a welcome respite from the summer heat, and I made my way toward the bookstore. He's a hottie, and really sweet. Or at least knows how to play sweet. He's definitely not actually interested. I could see the sign for the bookstore on the other side of the mall. And he's a Wayne too! What could a Wayne want with me?? … Oh god, I threatened them, didn't I? I told the little one I'd stab them if they came back to the table. Why did I say that???

I blinked a bit, pausing. That was him, leaned against the wall right next to the bookstore. He had actually shown up. I watched him scroll on his phone for a minute before looking up and scanning the crowd. When his eyes landed on me I continued walking toward him. He pocketed his phone, kicked off the wall, and walked over to meet me, a little grin lighting up his face.

“You're actually here…” the words left my mouth before I could reconsider, my disbelief apparent in my tone. Jason looked a bit confused at that, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.

“Well, yeah? … You said 4, right?”

“Sorry! Yes, I said 4. I just … I honestly wasn't sure this was … real…”

“Why wouldn't it be real?”

I blushed a bit, clearing my throat slightly; “n- never mind! Sorry, I had a weird week; my brain hasn't fully caught up.”

He nodded a little, smiling gently. “Well, I hope it's getting better at least.”

I nodded. “Yeah, it is. Thanks. … So, what should we do?”

“Like I said last night; anything you want.”

“Well, … we're right here, do you want to start at the bookstore?”

He nodded and fell into step beside me, smiling gently. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked into the store, browsing the aisles. It was odd how comfortable this was; he was a good half foot taller than me, and at least 200 pounds of pure muscle. If his arms and cheek were any gauge he was absolutely covered in old scars, and he had a bandage on one forearm so whatever gave him the scars probably wasn't confined to the past.

I should be terrified - everything about my upbringing told me this was a dangerous situation to be in. But when I saw the look in his eyes, like I was the most interesting thing in the world, all of my self-defense training fell out of my head. The voices urging me to get to safety quieted, all my instincts stilled, and there was peace. His eyes were so beautiful… 

“... Is there something on my face?” He blushed a bit, chuckling awkwardly.

I blinked, looking away. “Sorry! I wasn't staring, I just …”

“... Did you want to ask about this?” he pointed to the scar on his cheek.

“Huh? No! I have a policy of not asking people about stuff like that; you'll tell me or not on your own time. No, I just … I like your eyes is all …’’ I blushed brightly, staring at but not reading the back cover of a book.

“... My eyes?” I nodded, still pretending to read the back cover. “... You're really not going to ask about my scars?”

“Unless you want to talk about them, it's not any of my business.”

“... You're a very unusual girl.”

“Because I'm not going to pry about something you may or may not want to talk about, particularly on a first date?”

“Well, they're usually the first thing anyone wants to talk to me about. If they don't avoid me in the first place…”

I frowned a bit at that. If we met under any other circumstances, I would have taken one look at him and ducked my head to avoid an interaction. “... People suck…”

“It's not their fault; I'm intimidating…” I cautiously looked over at him. He was also staring at a book cover, a pensive little frown on his face.

“... I don't think you're intimidating.”

His eyes darted over and back to the book, and the corner of his mouth curled up ever so slightly. “... Thanks.”

I nodded, setting the book down. “.... So …”

“So? …”

“... Play a game?”

He chuckled, looking over at me. “A game?”

I nodded. “You tell me some of your favorite things in books, I'll tell you some of mine. We separate, select a few of our favorites that the other might like, and reconvene.”

“Alright. Is there a way to win this game?”

“Well I assume we'll each pick at least one book the other hasn't read, so we'll get to make each other read at least one of our favorites. That sounds like a win to me.”

He chuckled. “Alright. Meet back up at those comfy chairs in the back?”

I nodded, telling him some of my favorite tropes, genres, and settings. He did the same, and we darted in opposite directions. He beat me back there, but I eventually approached with a small stack, falling into the seat next to him.

He gestured toward my books; “ladies first.”

I tucked my feet under me, passing him each book in turn and making a case for it. He took each one, read the back cover, and listened intently. He had read one of them, and I figured he'd pick one of the others, if that, but he insisted he was going to get them all. When it was his turn, I wasn't entirely sure what to expect, but Pride and Prejudice wasn't the first thing that came to mind. 

“I've seen a few movie adaptations, but I haven't gotten around to reading it.” I smiled softly, taking the book. It was a beautiful blue cover with swirling calligraphy font in gold.

“An unparalleled tragedy - I insist this is the one you're taking home!” I giggled at his determined tone and nodded.

“Yes, sir!” I made a little mock salute, trying not to smirk at the sudden wave of pink overtaking his face. “... Well, what else do you have for me?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking at the books in his hands. “Ah, um …”

One by one he passed me Hamlet, the Three Musketeers, a book of Greek myths, and … a trashy romance?

“... Not gonna lie, this is an unexpected choice.” I read the back. It looked like your typical bodice ripper.

He chuckled, blushing a bit. “Look, it was the only book I had access to one day and I was losing my mind with boredom. But if you give it a chance, it's actually really well written, and the love interest isn't one of those creepy possessive guys the genre is known for, so …”

I nodded, taking a picture of the book covers. “I will give it a chance then!”

“... Why are you taking a picture of them?”

“... To get later? I'll start with this one, since you were so determined that I read it.” I held up Pride and Prejudice. Jason gathered up the others, putting them on his stack, then gently took Pride and Prejudice from me as well.

“Or I could just get them for you.” 

“What? Jason, no. I mean, that’s really sweet of you, but that's way too much!” Between the books he'd picked out for me and the ones I'd selected for him, he was holding at least $200 in his hands. And he'd picked the pretty hardcovers too! 

He shook his head. “I've had to cancel on you at least 5 times, and then I disappeared with no warning. You have been incredibly patient and understanding, and I will make today worth it.”

I blushed brightly, a bit surprised. “Jason, … you're worth waiting for. I enjoy talking to you, you don't have to spend money on me for today to be worth my time.”

He looked away uncomfortably, bright red, holding the stack of books to his chest. “... I … I like talking to you too … just let me do this, yeah? Call it a first date splurge.”

“... Alright, if you're sure. But I don't want you making a habit of this.”

He nodded, smiling softly. “Don't worry; I know you're a strong, independent woman.”

I nodded once, chuckling. “Damn right.”

Jason grinned, god he had an infectious grin, and led me to stand in line together. He held the stack of books in one hand, and we chatted a bit more while we waited for our turn. I was looking at a selection of little plushies in the impulse items when I felt something brush ever so slightly against my finger. I looked down; his trembling hand was next to mine, his pinky slightly extended toward me. I chuckled softly, extending mine toward him, and gently linked our fingers together. He stiffened ever so slightly before relaxing into it, gently squeezing back.

Next ->

Divider by @saradika (and my thanks for making them free to use!)

Taglist (let me know in the comments if you want to be added or dropped!)

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona

[haladriel]

Devourer of Light: How did Sauron regain his power in the Second Age?

So @cassey-fitzcassey and I have been doing some musing.

Since the end of the first season of Rings of Power, we’ve known that Sauron has been hiding under the guise of human Halbrand. 

Since the beginning of the second, we’ve known this isn’t by choice: that Sauron slid straight from powerful would-be ruler to powerless goop, festering in darkness before absorbing his way up the food chain, the passing of an unfortunate rat the true catalyst in this story.

‘Sauron lives because of you!'

When Sauron finally hijacks a body with functional hands, face and legs, the relief on his stolen face is clear. He is free from his squid ink spaghetti prison. And, for better or for worse, from his former life.

But Sauron has been debased: a great Maia, heir to Morgoth, forced into the body of a mortal man? Oof. If he had the power to do so, I have no doubt he would have changed his shape immediately, from the humiliation alone. 

But he doesn’t. Which means he can’t. 

When we see him having to warm his pitiful human body in the Northern Waste, he is dispirited. Resentful of his debasement. Rueing his sworn enemy who he’s had hundreds of years to bitterly, goopily hate.

When he meets the Southlanders, they’re heading away from the orcs: chances are he’s on his way to encounter Adar.

To what end, we don’t know. I’m not sure he does either. He’s almost visibly single-minded on this task, using the trail of humans as a wayfinder. When the Southlander with the sigil shares his wisdom, Sauron is surprised to be approached. He is apathetic towards the conversation, but his curiosity — or opportunism — is piqued enough to turn, and follow. Sauron’s opportunity weather-vane in action.

When the sea-wyrm (hi Ossë) attacks the Southlanders’ ship, once again, we do not see Sauron shapeshift into something more useful. Implication, he still can’t. Or, he’s committed to giving this good human life thing a go. Coin toss, but let's be honest, in such a situation, with no one watching me, I'd probably scrap that plan and disappear stealthily into the depths.

So when does Sauron regain enough power to do all of his usual shapeshifting and other demigodly shenanigans?

Well, by the second season, Sauron is able to put on The Jesus Show™ for Celebrimbor.

At this stage, he can do pretty light displays, give himself a booming voice, change his clothing and physical appearance (to an extent; presumably a vampiric bat is still beyond him) and perhaps (as some have suggested) even control the weather to make Brimby feel bad for him. So when did he regain power? And more importantly, how? 

Theory #0 Horror movie Sauron

It’s true that we have seen Sauron regain shape and form by devouring other beings.

But, presumably, this isn’t how he continues to regain his former strength, which continues to grow throughout Season 1 and into Season 2 — otherwise Rings of Power is at risk of becoming something a lot more sinister than it already is.

This gruesome mechanism seems more of a primitive way for a discorporated Maia to regain a physical form, not to reclaim all that Maia energy that burst from his body — something akin to morsels versus the feast, or long-term nourishment. All in all, while this might be how Sauron starts the process of regaining his strength, it feels unlikely it's how he continues, as any power from everyday creatures and humans simply wouldn’t be enough to restore him to his former self. But the possibility’s still, technically, on the table.

Given this is a high fantasy show, and (mostly) not a cosmic horror one… at this point, it’s worth consulting the source texts. What do we already know from Tolkien about Light and power in Aman and Middle-earth?

Elrond's Lore Interlude: Light and Darkness as interchangeable power sources

Anyone who’s read The Silmarillion remember Ungoliant, ancestor to Shelob? When telling her story in The Silmarillion, Tolkien has some interesting things to say about Light and Darkness: 

There … the shadows were deepest and thickest in the world … secret and unknown, Ungoliant had made her abode … She had crept towards the light of the Blessed Realm; for she hungered for light and hated it.  In a ravine she lived, and took shape as a spider of monstrous form, weaving her black webs in a cleft of the mountains. There she sucked up all light that she could find, and spun it forth again in dark nets of strangling gloom, until no light more could come to her abode; and she was famished. A cloak of darkness she wove about them when Melkor and Ungoliant set forth: an Unlight, in which things seemed to be no more, and which eyes could not pierce, for it was void. — J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion, 'Of the Darkening of Valinor'

In brief summary of What Goes Down, Morgoth promises Ungoliant all her desires in exchange for her service, and they temporarily ally to launch an attack on the Two Trees Laurelin and Telperion...

...causing the Darkening of Valinor:

…when both Trees were shining, and the silent city of Valmar was filled with a radiance of silver and gold … in that very hour Melkor and Ungoliant came hastening over the fields of Valinor, as the shadow of a black cloud upon the wind fleets over the sunlit earth… Then the Unlight of Ungoliant rose up even to the roots of the Trees, and Melkor sprang upon the mound; and with his black spear he smote each Tree to its core, wounded them deep, and their sap poured forth as it were their blood, and was spilled upon the ground. But Ungoliant sucked it up, and going then from Tree to Tree she set her black beak to their wounds, till they were drained … And still she thirsted, and going to the Wells of Varda she drank them dry; but Ungoliant belched forth black vapours as she drank, and swelled to a shape so vast and hideous that Melkor was afraid. So the great darkness fell upon Valinor.

Why is this relevant? Ungoliant shows that Light can be converted into Unlight, or Darkness. (Side note: Anyone read the Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson? Yeah. That’s where he got it from.) Tolkien makes this relationship even more explicit in the next paragraph:

The Light failed; but the Darkness that followed was more than loss of light. In that hour was made a Darkness that seemed not lack but a thing with being of its own: for it was indeed made by malice out of Light, and it had power to pierce the eye, and to enter heart and mind, and strangle the very will.

And, importantly, Ungoliant grows more powerful by consuming Light.

So, back to Sauron. How might he regain his lost power?

Sauron, Devourer of Light

If Ungoliant’s example is anything to go by, it could be: simply, from encountering things that have Light in them. And devouring it. But what things, and when?

Theory #1 From the Mithril

So, @cassey-fitzcassey had the idea that Sauron might have regained his power when he touched the Mithril during the making of the rings.

Timeline-wise, this is certainly possible, as Sauron does not demonstrate any significant unseen-worldly powers until after meeting Celebrimbor (The Raft: Reprise). But given Sauron wants the rings to be as powerful as possible, there was only a small amount of Mithril available to he and Celebrimbor to work with (hence why it must be magnified using the ring shape), it’s less plausible he would take too much Light power from the Mithril, lest he weaken the end result. Still, however, a possibility.

Theory #2  From Middle-earth, including Lindon's tree

In his time spent as human Halbrand, as part of ‘the residue of evil’ that Morgoth had left behind, Sauron could have been slowly siphoning power off the land and its peoples.

At the beginning of the events in the Rings of Power, the whole of Middle-earth is at peace — the Light of the Eldar is the Light of Valinor, responsible for sustaining their immortality — and it follows that there would be Light both metaphorically and, in the Tolkien universe, literally saturating the lands and its people.

But that light is fading, and there is a blight upon the Great Tree of Lindon.

Darkness is seen elsewhere in Middle-earth, too. In the first scenes in the Southlands, Arondir examines a cow oozing black goop; she has been grazing in lands where there is Darkness, triggered — or, if Sauron himself spent this whole time quietly radiating Darkness from under his icy fortress, exacerbated — by the presence of the orcs.

The implication made clear here is that Light and Darkness can exist inside beings, and that the levels can vary. But, like trying to drink from a trickling creek, Sauron supping Light in this way enough to regain his former powers couldn’t happen quickly. So, given he shows no signs of using those powers in the Prologue, why the apparent acceleration after the shipwreck?

Theory #3  From the Lady of Light herself

You can see where this is going.

Galadriel is the Lady of Light, and lore goes the gold of her hair ‘was touched by some memory of the starlike silver of her mother, and the Eldar said that the light of the Two Trees had been snared in her tresses' (Unfinished Tales, 'The History of Galadriel and Celeborn'). 

In Tolkien’s world, where Light can be a source of power for a creature of Darkness to grow stronger, the Light in Galadriel is unlikely merely metaphorical.

The Eldar contain the Light of Valinor and bring this Light to Middle-earth: Galadriel, as one of those who basked in the Light of the Two Trees themselves, will contain more than most.

So when Sauron encounters her, with all her irresistible Light, he’s discovered a deep well of convertible power. Even a bit of her Light might have sped up the process. And, well, while she’s busy touching the darkness, she’s not going to notice a bit of it going missing, is she?

Bonus Theory: Reverse conversion

This has little bearing on where Sauron regains his power from, but as a thought: does Light replace Unlight, or Darkness? Or can it be internally converted?

As his discorporated form shows, Sauron is — spiritually speaking — made of Darkness. He is black ooze personified. Or Maia-ified. Maybe, just maybe, in a world where Light and Dark aren’t only metaphors for morality, Galadriel and Sauron spark a conversion reaction inside one another. Their internal battles become metachemical, with a little of Galadriel’s Light turning to Darkness, and Sauron’s Darkness… turning to Light. 

That may be stretching the bounds a little. But, either way, Sauron lives and regains his power because of Galadriel. And the rat.  ________________________________

Disclaimer: I haven’t read all of Tolkien’s legendarium yet. He wrote a lot of stuff. If there’s anything that’s been missed, I’d love to hear about it.

[livelaughlovesubs]

guess who's back, back again, it's 🃏 anon back at it again!

so. Sampo Koski (i'm fully inclined to say his full ass name because why not, it's hilarious) recently i had a big craving for his bratty little ass, so i was thinking, maybe reader (gn or otherwise) getting way too tired of his quips and just... fucking him roughly, rough sex, bondage (or any form of BDSM), some (or a lot of) manhandling and a teensy bit of a blood (either from clawing or biting can work!) can work really well!

but honestly, go wild i don’t really mind whatsoever, i’m swamped with work right now and i just need to satisfy my needs from them lolol.

so, again, have fun with this request!

from, le 🃏 anon!

Hello hello~! Great to see you again. After two whole months, I hope you aren’t that swamped with work anymore? Haha

Dom!reader x sub!sampo - reader is gn

Warning: bondage, pegging (I use dick), rough sex, slapping, manhandling, chocking, scratching, mention of death, hair pulling, edging

It was a mistake to trust him.

Seriously, this man is wanted by the guards and owns the infamous image of a liar, how could you believe in his words? Maybe they were just too sweet, too tempting and irresistible. Even so, it doesn’t justify how stupid you were to trust him. That sweet yet two faced smile, it made you blind. I mean- how dared he scam you with low quality ropes?!

All you wanted was to buy some nice, pretty ropes, and he even gave you a discount. Then he talked big about how well he threats his customers, and that he’d personally bring it to your house. Though the moment you glanced at the item, seeing the rough texture and poor handicraft, your jaw dropped. No wonder the price was so damn cheap, this guy tried to rip you off! Who did he take you for? This won’t do, you wasn’t someone easy who’d let it slide after him apologising. You’ve been so excited to receive it after all, that’s why you had to teach him a lesson.

You grabbed him by his arm and dragged him inside, throwing him onto the ground. The rope slipped from his hands, landing next to him. A cold look in your eyes and you kicked his sides, telling him to get onto the bed. He eventually obliged, then you began stripping his clothes. Sampo let you do it with a sheepish smile and dropping eyes, chuckling satisfied. That lewd little fox just loved it when you are rough with him, when you push him around and put him in his place. Now his face was being pushed into a fluffy pillow while his ass was high in the air, kneeling basically. Wrists near his ankle as you brought the red rope closer to him, straightening it out then whispering, “hold still.”

With a swift move, you tightened the knot around his wrist, pulling with all your strength. He groaned a little and bawled his hands into fists, fully aware that there will be bruises on the next day. “Most esteemed customer~ why… are you testing your product on me?” His voice got higher towards the end, a sense of excitement hidden under the surface. “Hah, come on, we are more than just merchant and buyer.” You reminded him while giving his bare butt a harsh slap, leaving behind a red mark. “Nghh~! Ahaha! Oh y/n, you are as fascinating as ever.”

That’s right, you two have shared some intimacy before and despite the relationship you both had he still tried to scam you. “Save your flattery for later. Now, tell me, does this feel like quality ropes?” You asked him with a scorn, in the meantime opening the lit of a bottle. The tall male had a rather sarcastic expression, acting like he didn’t know. Though the answer was as clear as day. He could feel it rub against his flesh, irritating and burning his skin. It had an itchy feeling to it, yet it also hurt, causing the area around it to turn red.

A faint blush covered the cheeks of the boy. His breathing was heavy and ragged, sweat forming on his forehead. Then you grabbed his roots and yanked on his hair, making him arch his back into a crescent shape, mumbling, “answer me.” The rather rough treatment was immediately met with a loud moan, “uhhH-nNNGhhh~! Ah, be gentle, y/n..” finally he looked at you, mouth parted and tongue hanging out a little. His face also reddened by a few shades, the corners of his lips were curled into a grin.

“I take it you know what this means for you?” You sighed and asked him, squeezing a large amount of lube onto your inner palm. He acted like he didn’t know, staying quiet and making a -hmm?- sound. So you continued with, “your punishment, for deceiving me.” Then you stuck two fingers inside his hole, fingering him sloppily. “Punish.. ment? Ah-ngHhhh..! To-too rough~♡” Sampo threw his head back, his blue-white hair bouncing around. “Yes, punishment for bad boys.”

Seeing how he shuddered and shook, you deemed him prepared enough and pulled your fingers out. Afterwards you lined the tip of your length to his hole, followed by you dropping the bottle onto the ground and grabbing his waist with both hands. Holding him, making him stick his ass out some more. “Mhmm~ ha, haah… don’t hold back now, dear customer.” His breathing became even more ragged, he was obviously enjoying this. “What a fucking whore.” You chuckled, giving his bottom another squeeze, spreading his hole with two fingers before penetrating him.

You slowly pushed the tip in, noticing how his shoulders jerked upwards, the oh so familiar grin returned to his wet lips. Since he was taking this so well, you might as well speeding up the process. With one snap of your hip, you pushed the rest of it inside him, your pelvis hitting his ass. “NgGGHhh~!! Ah- f-fuck, so good, more, ha- mHm, do me harder ♡♥︎!” Sampo cried out, hands wrapped around his own ankle, grip tightening with all his might. He wanted to trash around so bad, though the restrains weren’t bulging in the slightest. Keeping him in check, unmoving and restricted.

Without wasting much time, you began moving, thrusting your dick in and out of him at a fast pace. “AhHh!” He moaned at the sensation, at you rubbing against his walls and hitting places so deep inside him that it made him see stars. Then you leaned closer to him, grabbing his hair again as you whispered into his ear, “You said harder? Let’s see if you can take it then.” After that you licked his earlobe, running your tongue all over the shell while moving your hips ruthlessly. “NGhhh! Y/nnn~! Ah, t-touch me more!” He whimpered, wanting you to show some attention to his leaking member, but you ignored him.

Instead, you opened your mouth and bit his shoulder, trying to raise the speed even more. The hand on his hip gripped him harsh enough to leave bruises, the other one accidentally ripped off some strains of hair from his scalp. You bit down even more when his voice hitched, enough to draw out some fresh drops of blood. At this point he was a withering mess, crying with such a dumb yet blissful expression on his face, his blush spread to his shoulders as well. “OoOhhhH, AHHnnHgg fuuuck!! There, r-right there, so good, fuck me more, more!!” A series of unintelligible words left him, echoing through the lust-ridden room.

The pain he felt from your rough treatment, from the newly gotten bruises and wounds all faded away the moment you found his sweet spot. Not only that, you’ve been abusing that poor area with such brutality he felt like he was gonna die. Each time the tip pressed and hammered against that spot, his head would empty themselves and more tears would fell from his eyes. Drool was hanging out of his mouth as you relentlessly pounded into him, panting and doing your best to keep the tempo up.

“Hah… this is hardly a punishment for you, isn’t it?” You scoffed under your breath, feeling a little bothered by it. That’s why you slapped and scratched his butt again, cursing out, “look at what a fucking pervert you are, Sampo koski.” After drawing some blood with your nails, you insulted him, smirking sadistic. His face was quite a sight to behold, so chaotic and blushy, so damn adorable. “UhHHmm!~♡♥︎ GuUughhh!!” All he did was whimpering and moaning like some dog in heat, struggling against his restrains while his cock leaked his filthy pre onto the bed. With all the remaining strength he had, he meekly trust his hips back against you, trying to get you to go even further.

Then you stopped, very abruptly. “Ah-ahhh..?” A confused squeak escaped him. Hands still holding his hips while he sobbed into the pillow, but you didn’t move at all. “Shall I just leave you like this? Considering you aren’t seeing this as a punishment.” You asked yourself, though talked loud enough for him to hear, you wanted him to know. “uhhh- huuu~?? N-no! Don’t stop y-yet!” His voice was rough and hoarse from his screaming his lungs out. That man really has no shame considering how loud his volume was the entire time.

He turned his head back, trying to look at you. And when he did, a shiver ran down his spine, almost enough to push him over the edge. You were smiling with your eyes, a dangerous look, one that told him to run away r he’d regret it. But, to him, he was already too deep in this mess to escape. This was going to be a long night for him, and he knew since the beginning. “You wanna cum, Sampo?” You began, leaning down to his level again. By doing so you pushed your dick a little deeper in and he whined at the friction. The male didn’t respond with words, he only nodded his head hesitantly, meekly. A sense of fear and pleasure bubbling inside him. How he loved to feel like nothing next to you.

Next thing he knew you clasped one hand over his eyes and wrapped the other one around his throat, squeezing him, about it choke him. “Be a good boy and endure it. If I’m satisfied, I’ll let you cum.”

His heart pounded against his chest, he felt lightheaded. All the ecstasy and anticipation was making him dizzy with lust. He didn’t even have to think twice before groaning with a low voice, “yes, please, toy with me. Kill me with your love♡”

[n3ptoonz]

Can you do hdcs on MK1 men pushing the reader to a wall while kissing them?

randomly selected mk1 men hcs: how raiden, rain, smoke, shang tsung, reptile, and kung lao go about pushing reader to the wall while kissing them

warnings: suggestive (y'all horny freekie fucs) reader being a monster fucker mentioned 😈

these aren't bullet points. they're like lil blurbs for each character cause the bullets would've been awkwardly placed. otherwise, enjoy! part two here

Raiden

Raiden's kisses were always so gentle and sweet, like him, but when your moans poured into his mouth as your back hit the wall, a flip switched in his mind. His calloused hands roamed your body so carelessly, yet with such thought. Rough, yet with a soft touch. Fervent, yet patient. His hand was wrapped around the nape of your neck with such care like his lips weren't just at war with yours, but clearly that was no issue the way you pulled him even closer and tried your best to stay quiet. Who knew the Wu Shi Academy was a great spot for lowkey make out sessions?

Rain

You always knew Rain was a passionate lover. The same efforts and care he put in his magic and knowledge, ten times more went into you. So when he had you against the wall in his office, surrounded by his own creations and scrolls only you knew about, it was make out city. The way his lips molded to yours should've been illegal with how mesmerizing it was. His hands were no stranger to your hips; you were like a shiny antique on his bookshelf he cherished. If you dare to run your fingers through his hair while you kissed, you can and will get taken on this same wall.

Smoke

Smoke was always the kind of man to start slow/gentle and gradually become more aggressive in his ways. However, some things just drive him crazy. You drive him crazy. His patience went just like that, and now here you both are groaning and whining into each other's mouths. Your lips just looked so soft, they were calling his name in a taunting manner. Now, he's not so aggressive that you hit the wall harshly, no, the contrasting feathery touch of his hands gliding along your body to the hunger in his kiss was just enough to get both of you to the next level of passion.

Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung is only ever gentle with you. His aura was just so powerful in itself, all he had to do was walk you into the wall. He didn't need to push you against it to assert dominance. His eyes never dared to dart from yours, especially when you looked so cute trying to hold his gaze. If it were a third person point of view they'd think you're under hypnosis. One face caress and your lips locked with his. If you thought he was power hungry individual before? You haven't seen anything yet.

Reptile

Syzoth is a mystery. On one hand he's a romantic lover and on the other, his Zaterran instincts get the best of him. His abnormal strength always lead to him picking you up in some way shape or form, so here you were on the wall and straddling his waist all because he got excited. Being a monster fucker had its perks since his lizard tongue didn't change with his human form, and that didn't bother you at all. In fact, you welcomed it every time you kissed; once he figured that out he used to his advantage every time.

Kung Lao

Kung Lao is the type of man who was driven by pride, so he was bound to tease you to no end anytime soon. His kisses were usually feverish and slightly aggressive with a touch of a sweet side. Once he gets you on that wall from all that teasing and shit talking it's no different. Only the sound of heavy breaths, lips smacking, and clothes rubbing against each other filled the room every time it happened. He smirks into the kiss every. single. time. He refuses to let you slip away from him even for a moment. His hands have to always be on you, which especially isn't hard to do when you literally have nowhere else to go. But hey, any objections? Didn't think so!

a/n: if y'all want a part 2, you know what to do! (haha that rhymed)

[intergalacticfop]

Minoan Kilt

The large, structural skirt worn by Minoan women in art is instantly recognizable, and when I made my own I combined current best guesses with my own personal tastes.

My kilt shape follows the hypothesis laid out by Bernice Jones in her book Ariadne's Threads: The Construction and Significance of Clothes in the Aegean Bronze Age. She describes the shape of that of a labrys, a double-headed axe with apparent ceremonial significance in Ancient Minoan culture. This garment may be depicted in Linear-B logogram *166 + we, we-being the backwards-s-shaped squiggle in the center which identifies the piece as a garment.

See pages 336 and 341 in Marie-Louise B. Nosch, The Textile Logograms in the Linear B Tablets

Actual details on construction and materials below the cut:

Construction:

The top and bottom edges of the kilt are concave, so the sides are longer than the middle. This gives the chevron-shape seen on layered kilts in art. In addition, the curved top half makes the skirt flare out, accommodating the hips and giving more freedom of movement to the legs. My kilt measured from my waist to my anklebone at the longest point, and about 1.5 times around my waist.

I chose to make a flounced kilt, with smaller strips of fabric and trim applied to a large base piece, rather than a tiered kilt, in which multiple kilt shapes of varying length are layered one on top of the other, so you end up wrangling 3 layers of fabric around the waist. The flounced kilt saves fabric and gives you a lot more freedom with whatever trim you might want. Jones' diagram for a flounced kilt is seen below:

Unlike the version in the diagram above, I chose not to attach ties to the garment itself both because the linen I used was very heavy and I was concerned about weight, and also because folding the skirt and securing it with a separate tie worked just fine for my tastes. In total I had four flounces: 2 alternating rows each of fabric and fringe.

The vertical edges of most kilts are left plain, probably representing either the selvage or an edge otherwise finished off to prevent fraying. For my kilt, however, I ended up with a couple inches of self-fringe on either side as I adjusted the fabric to the correct width. At least three examples of kilts with fringed vertical edges are known, all three from the so-called "House of the Ladies" in Akrotiri

Photos from Wikimedia Commons. Image 1. Image 2.

The vertical edges of these kilts are reinforced with a colored band or tape, probably to keep the garment from unintentional further fraying. Accordingly, I did the same on my kilt. I also like that it gave a nice vertical diagonal to counterbalance the horizontal ones.

Materials

I tried to use mainly linen and wool, the fibers most available on Ancient Crete, but some of my trim was cotton because sometimes you just have to use what's cheap and available in the today times.

The base of my kilt is a heavy, patterned linen in what's called a diaper weave, meaning that a repeating diamond pattern is woven into the pattern itself. A lot of the Minoan textiles depicted in frescoes are characterized by repeating geometric patterns, likely woven into the fabric itself, and that was something I wanted to capture in my own piece. My linen is woven with both cream and natural colored threads. The heavy weight is important to give structure to the garment--otherwise it would be kind of limp. My linen was from Burnley & Trowbridge (shameless plug), as was the plain cotton twill tape I used to bind the top and bottom edges of the kilt, and the dark red wool twill tape I used along the vertical edges.

I bought my cotton fringe from a rug supply store. I had to search a while to find a fringe that would work for me, and I ultimately chose fringes with a woven header rather than the more common knotted one, so that it would lay flat against the kilt. I hid the woven header under a layer of cotton fringed trim from Michaels (yes, Michaels) with this really great diamond and dots pattern woven in black.

The blue layers are from a bolt of vintage wool Kimono fabric. Blue appears frequently in frescoes, likely achieved with indigo or woad dye, or even murex/mollusk dye. The fabric is printed with an imitation ikat pattern of diamonds and squares that made me think "the vibes seem right!" because quite frankly, you aren't going to get "historically accurate" Minoan textiles (which there probably isn't enough archaeological evidence to definitively describe) without, like, hand-weaving it yourself or paying someone hundreds of dollars to do it for you (and that price is if the weaver really likes you). Neither of which appealed to my desire to just make a fun, low stress project. Good enough is good enough.

The narrow trim on the bottom of the blue flounces is vintage cotton/poly woven trim. This trim, while narrow, was quite thick and stiff, which was great because it added more weight and structure to the end of my flounces since the wool fabric itself was quite thin.

The top layer is a custom tablet-woven wool trim that I commissioned from MAHTAVAhandicraft on Etsy. I imagined this as the "centerpiece" of my kilt, and I'd arrange everything to complement it.

It's a kivrim pattern, which has itself only been traced to 19th-century Anatolia, but I didn't care. The way it looks like waves reminded me of how central the sea was to life in the Ancient Aegean and Mediterranean and it captured the idea and aesthetic I was pursuing. I mean, doesn't it remind you of these dolphins?

(I like the dolphins)

The whole thing was machine sewn with the exception of hemming and adding trim to the blue flounces. If you were to look at it from the back, you'd see lots of zigzag stitches, because i wanted to be fast! and have fun! not chase some unreachable ideal of "accurate."

As for wearing it, I chose to wear it with the top part folded/rolled down over a belt, so I have a thick tube of fabric around my waist. Many images, like the frescoes above of women with fringed kilts, appear to just show the kilt being tied closed. Other images are so fragmented or stylized that it's unclear what kind of skirt closure was used. Sculptures and figurines definitely show some kind of SOMETHING around the waist, whether this is folded fabric or a kind of belt is unclear. Different art could show different things!

I think I see evidence of a continuous line from the skirt to the waist-roll on the figure on the left, found in Troas, which I think indicates some kind of skirt-folding situation. The woman on the right, found in Crete, looks more like she's wearing some kind of long coiled belt, or perhaps snakes. Who knows? I don't! For my own part, I found the combination of rolled waist + tie belt the most secure for doing things like kneeling, stomping around, and wading into rivers to rescue bees. I also liked that it gave me the bulk around the hips that gives Minoan figurines such a powerful silhouette, and proportionally gives more of an hourglass shape. If you wanted to do something more firmly grounded in the sources, stick just with the waist tie or belt, wrapped around a couple times and tied in back. If you want to be like me, just say "well we don't KNOW it didn't happen" and just do whatever you want. Have fun! Whatever happens, it should be fairly easy to move around in the kilt--this is not a restrictive garment, just a heavy one.

[marclef]

a special gift for you guys, for this very important Fake Peppino Friday.... after a week of near-continuous work, i present to you the biggest mess i've posted so far to tumblr:

The Fake Peppino Headcanon/Biology/Anatomy/Whatever the heck this is Post

really just a bunch of headcanons, ideas, and other stuff i've complied together for Fake Peppino, illustrated to the best of my ability. i hope you enjoy! ✨✨✨

(caution: lots of text and assorted Frogs up ahead)

now.... who's ready for walls of text and drawings?

Fake Peppino is a homunculus, made in the shape of Peppino by Pizzahead. He's much taller than the real Peppino, 8 feet tall compared to Peppino's 5 1/2 feet. He was created using the DNA from Peppino (either skin or hair cells), old pizza, and frogs (think Jurassic Park). His entire body, including the hat and "clothes", is comprised of a strange goop, with no flesh organs or bones, though certain areas are made out of specialized goo, meant for an intended purpose.

He can stretch his body to inhuman lengths, though he usually only does this with his legs, mouth, tongue, and arms. His goopy body is extremely strong, able to withstand tearing and most puncture wounds. Attacks from knives or similar weapons are pointless, as it doesn't really harm him, and will likely just lead to him absorbing the knife into himself and retaliating. However, repeated attacks, especially physical blows, can tire him out, and explosives can harm him, splitting his body into pieces if particularly strong. This doesn't kill him, though, since he can reform his body.

If threatened, or trying to get into a tight spot, Fake Peppino can deform his body into a blob-like mass, allowing him to flee, squeeze into small areas, or melt into the floors/walls. He usually keeps his eyes and brain intact, to see his surroundings and act accordingly. The rest of his body, despite deforming and becoming mushy, can still function, meaning he could still eat in this form if he wanted to. He finds tights spaces comfortable, and can often be found squeezed into unlikely places, such as small containers, trash cans, and cabinets.

If greatly threatened, though, or sufficiently angered, Fake Peppino can pool all of the energy into his body into growing larger, by rapidly burning energy into making more goop/cells. This is very tiring, generally only used as a last resort. The process generally makes his head and body much larger, with his limbs, as well as eyes/brain, staying mostly the same size. He is dumber in this state, with all energy and thought going into eliminating the target, something that Fake Peppino doesn't like. He avoids lashing out like this unless he absolutely needs to.

Despite his frog DNA, Fake Peppino doesn't do well with water or other similar liquids. Thanks to his sturdy stomach walls, he can drink most liquids just fine, even fluids that would be dangerous to humans. It's his outside "skin" that's the problem, since it can't absorb liquid properly. Prolonged contact with water or other liquid will quickly cause him to deform, unable to keep his humanoid form, until he's sufficiently dried off/absorbed the liquid properly. He greatly dislikes being wet because of this, and will go to great lengths to avoid it. Warmer liquids are slightly more tolerable, being much more comfortable, so warm, bubbly baths are welcome.

The brain and eyes are connected directly, with the brain protected by Fake's squishy head, and the eyes popping out the widened eye sockets. The brain is made of very specialized goop, and works very similarly to a human brain, sending signals to all parts of Fake Peppino's body.

However, despite it being the central control center of his body, smaller bits of brain cell goop are distributed through the rest of his body, allowing him to control other parts separately. So, even if parts of him are detached or otherwise removed, he can still control them, for a time. After some time, these parts die off though, losing control and deforming into inert goop. He mainly uses this ability to split "clones" off of himself, controlling them to attack perceived threats.

Being made of goop, Fake's brain can withstand damage a normal brain can't, but he still prefers to keep it protected underneath his head. It dries out a bit in the open, too, which he finds uncomfortable.

Fake Peppino's eyes are very strong. Though he's often seen with a cross-eyed look to him, he's constantly watching his surroundings, even if it doesn't seem it. He has excellent night vision, often using this ability to easily stalk and sneak up on prey in the dark without being spotted.

He doesn't need to blink, but he still closes his eyes to sleep, when he's very happy, or during certain actions, such as swallowing. His eyes are one of the most vulnerable parts of his body, though, and attacking them would be a way to easily disorient him.

Fake Peppino's sense of smell is also impressive, being able to smell things long before he sees them. He uses this ability to easily find food, prey, or simply something he wants. The mustache under his nose (which, same as his "hair", is also made of goop) is sensitive, and he doesn't like others touching it.

Fake Peppino often sniffs things he's interested in, including strangers, to try to get a sense for them. He never forgets a particular smell, which makes it easy to tell if a familiar person is nearby. He often sniffs others while holding them or being given attention, likely as a form of interaction. Plus, he just thinks most others smell nice.

Despite, like the rest of him, being made of goop, Fake Peppino's teeth can harden to be extremely tough. They soften if he needs them to, such as when he deforms. His bite force is very, very strong, comparable to a hippo's bite. He doesn't chew his food too often, though, and only really chews up food he finds particularly tasty, such as pizza. His frog-like instinct usually compels him to swallow most foods whole. His teeth are more often used to grip things, such as prey items, or to carry things around. He enjoys carrying things he likes around, and will carry smaller friends around gently with his mouth.

The stretchiest part of Fake Peppino's body is his tongue, which can stretch to several times his body length. It is very sticky, coated with a clear, saliva-like goop that fills the inside of his mouth as well. Like a frog, he uses it to grab onto and eat food from afar, or to grab items he doesn't feel like using his arms to. It's very strong, and can drag even very heavy objects. The tongue's extreme flexibility allows him to reach it nearly anywhere, even down his own throat if he really wanted.

Usually, Fake Peppino uses his tongue to snatch fleeing prey items, and he can wrap it around their body to make them easier to eat. He often leaves his tongue dangling slightly out of his mouth, due to its length, but also making it easy to strike with if needed.

Fake Peppino's "stomach" is a very special case. It functions like both an organic stomach, and similarly to a lung as well, constantly moving by pushing air in and out of himself. He can use this to inflate his body, making himself bigger for intimidation (like some frogs do), or to shrink himself down by releasing all air from himself; this is generally used if a prey item is being uncooperative, to cause them to suffocate. To help keep live prey in place as well, he's able to close off his throat with a mass of goop, preventing escape.

The constant movement of the stomach makes digesting meals easier, allowing them to be coated by a specialized goop that absorbs and dissolves what it covers, like stomach acids. Fake Peppino's stomach can digest almost everything, aside from very tough materials, such as most metals, very solid plastics, tough minerals (like rocks), and bones. Anything he can't digest, he simply spits up eventually, generally in a place it can be disposed of, such as the trash.

His stomach is very sturdy and stretchy, able to withstand almost anything, and can stretch as much as needed to fit what's inside. As such, there's not much of a limit to how much Fake Peppino can eat. Eating too much makes him sluggish, though, as his body tries to process it all. Fake Peppino is most content with a reasonably-full stomach, and is generally quite calm and relaxed after a large meal. Belly rubs at this point are greatly appreciated.

If needed to, he can reach his arms back into his own throat, to grab something from inside of his stomach. He doesn't do it often, due to most things he eats being digestible, making carrying stuff around in there fairly pointless. This is only ever really the case if it's something too difficult to spit up, or something that wasn't supposed to be eaten in the first place.

There is no further digestive system, however; all food eaten is 100% absorbed in the stomach. Everything he eats is converted into more goop like him, leaving no trace behind, unless it is undigestible. Bones from eaten prey such as rats get thrown out, or disposed of in an appropriate spot.

and... though I didn't get to drawing them, here's a couple extra unsorted headcanons/dumb little tidbits I just felt like sharing!

He makes lots of strange sounds, communicating more through groans and frog-like croaks than trying to speak. He CAN talk, but not well, mostly in broken, short sentences, and usually speaks "backwards". He can understand others just fine, though he struggles with especially long and complicated words. The sounds he makes when not talking are generally unintelligable, but his mood and tone can indicate how he feels. He uses the ability to inflate his body to produce very loud, aggressive sounds when trying to ward off threats.

His gooey body is what allows him to cling to walls and ceilings with ease. He sticks to walls while trying to stalk prey, or just to play around with friends. Though, in some cases, he'll cling against the walls or ceiling if frightened, finding them a safe vantage point. If you're in the dark and feel something creeping its way towards you, it's likely Fake Peppino, silently stalking you from the walls.

Despite his inhuman traits, Fake Peppino generally doesn't like the idea of eating humans. He still sees himself as somewhat human from his time spent believing he was the real Peppino. Attacking or eating things he doesn't see as prey is kept as a last resort, or if he's extremely angered. As of now in my canon/AU, there is only one person Fake Peppino has killed in this way. He didn't like the taste.

[wheneclipsefalls]

Courting Spider

Pairing: Spider x Na'vi Male OC

Masterlist AO3

Summary: It's time that someone takes care of Spider for once. Zhali is up for the task.

Warnings: aged up Spider/Sully kids, explicit, MDNI, male x male, size difference, Na'vi x human pairing, oral, insecurities, angst, trauma, injury, blood, perfectionism, Spider just needs to be loved, etc.

A/N: Wow, this took a while but it is finally here. Not too confident with some of the writing style for ths one but hopefully it still makes sense.

“What about the back panel?” 

“Useless.” Zhali quickly interjects, weaving the soft fabric together with practiced precision. Lo’ak huffs slightly, titling his head as he watches the male work on the small piece of clothing. 

“He’s not going to wear it with his ass out, brother.” 

Zhali rolls his eyes and takes a deep breath. He will never understand the Sky Demon’s obsession with modesty. Clothing should allow one to move freely and if it shifts from one way to the other, so what? Who would truly notice, anyways?

Well, he supposes, were it Spider he himself would notice. 

And suddenly all that Zhali can think about is getting a glimpse of the little Tawtute’s bum, just another peek at that beautifully soft and squishing form of his. As tempting as the idea is, however, it does have him editing his original claim. If he has interest in seeing that sculpted ass, surely other Na’vi or even Sky Demons could have the same intentions.

He decides to weave together a back panel after all. Besides, once the small Sky Demon has been courted and agrees to mate with him, it may be more rewarding to have that area of his mate revealed to his eyes only. That thought has the slightest curve of a smile lacing his lips. 

Lo’ak, as always, is one to notice the shift in demeanor, but he pays the other male no mind. After all, there would have been no chance of executing this courting properly without Lo’ak’s insights. Zhali thanks the Great Mother that he has close enough ties with someone Spider considers his best friend. Otherwise, how else would he know how to make a loincloth for the boy in the first place? Or not to leave dead kills at the outpost’s front entrance as a courting gift?

Lo’ak’s information is irreplaceable. It’s hard enough to wrap his mind around the different customs and concerns of a small tawtute, let alone court one without any insight in the first place. 

Although it may seem unconventional to some Na’vi, opinions that he has heard personally from some friends and family, Zhali knows that there is no one else for him besides Spider. 

He can still recall the spark of interest that had been there during their adolescence, watching the small boy with golden hair saunter across the forest confidently. He had moved with a grace and agility that Zhali had never witnessed from a Tawtute. Back then, his small crush was poorly nourished as his parents tried their hardest to keep him from spending too much time around Sky Demons. Searching to become a warrior and clan member that would make his parents proud, Zhali had refrained from stepping out of bounds. 

There were small moments he had caught with the so-called monkey boy, but it was always in the presence of others. 

The night of Spider’s capture had been a core memory for Zhali. He recalls it as the night he truly began his path to adulthood. Regret and dread had laced his gut as he realized his own cowardice had broken any real chance at connecting with the other male. It shifted his perspective, pushing him forward until he had made himself a promise that night. 

Never again would he let criticism and judgment keep him from following his heart’s desires. 

It was only the direct command and even surveillance from the new Olo’eyktan that had kept him from storming Hell’s gate as a one man army. 

Those years apart had been painful, but they had shaped him into the man he is today, the man he needed to become. There had been slight relief that came from hearing of Spider reuniting with the Sully family across the sea. However, he could never erase the sting of missed opportunity.

Following the footsteps of his father and other warriors, Zhali had channeled this pressing emotion into his training. The sun would barely be upon the horizon before Zhali began his daily grind. He had excelled in every aspect that a young warrior could, spending extra hours training alone with only the glowing light of eclipse for aiding sight. When he had pushed himself in every aspect of hunting, fighting, and gathering possible he had moved on to homemaking skills. 

Now, sitting here with only a few months of weaving underneath his fingertips, he’s proud to find the garment an attractive item thus far. A surprising fact considering how his discipline and attention has slipped upon the Sully family’s return. Or rather, Spider’s return. 

Seeing the small tawtute advance from behind the Sully family, hair somehow turned a lighter shade of gold and arm adorned with shelled jewelry, Zhali had felt like a child once more. The Great Mother had been kind to him, advancing his form into that of a true muscled warrior and adorning him with skills that were far beyond anything the could’ve dreamed about at fifteen, but none of that seemed to matter when faced with Spider once more. His stomach had tightened into a million different knots, tail swinging and ears flickering desperately as he took in the beautiful male before him. 

Although taken aback and slightly nervous, something he would never admit, Zhali had expressed these emotions in the best way he knew how; hard work. The family had only been home for little more than a moon cycle but the male’s courting plans were already underway. His consultation with Lo’ak had informed him that the beautiful tawtute was in fact still unmated. He figured that the Metkayina Na’vi knew nothing of real value placed in their laps if they had somehow managed to miss courting such an exquisite creature. 

Nevertheless, he is grateful for their insolence. 

The yearnings of his heart have never ceased and Zhali would have his soul taken up to Eywa before he’d let this chance slip away again. 

“You’re sure about this color?” He murmurs, concentrating on the intricate trim to lace the sides. Next to him Lo’ak lounges along the marui floor with one leg propped as he bites into the delicious fruit he missed oh so much. Golden eyes flicker over to the intricate pattern of green material, different shades popping out in precise patterns. 

“Well he did complain about there not being enough green on Awalatuu.” 

“I asked you what his favorite color was.” Zhali huffs out, finally letting the unfinished garment rest on his lap. Lo’ak hardly flinches under the glare he receives, simply shrugging his shoulders before continuing to eat. 

“I know. Figure it must be green if he complained about its absence so much.”

It’s not fair to bite back at the hand that feeds him. Zhali knows this. He repeats it in his head over and over again. If there is one thing that he has learned about Spider it’s that no one treats the poor boy the way he deserves. Lo’ak and Kiri are the closest things that the small human has to friends, but even they have other parts of their lives that pull their attention away from him. There are always other obligations and personal problems that come first before Spider and to Zhali’s dismay, the boy accepts it. 

Being left in the shadows is something that has become natural to Spider in his life. The Sully family takes him in, but never with the attitude of treating him like their very own. The scientists at the lab have watched over him since he was a child but not one of them was truly a parent. They too, have their own worries and concerns. Most are too focused on their own research and work to really prioritize raising a child. 

That familiar lingering of guilt resurfaces when Zhali remembers that he too let Spider remain hostage with those Demons for months on end, not one rescue party sent after him. 

It’s a fact that haunts him to this day, but he vows to leave all those mistakes behind. Spider will be safe and taken care of in his arms, by his side and treated with the love and respect that he deserves. For the first time in the boy’s life, he will know what it means to be someone’s first priority. 

Spider can still feel Neteyam’s curious glances thrown his way as they walk silently back to the human outpost. With the small bundle of fine fabric carefully clasped in his hands, it feels like a small eternity before the human boy can comprehend the turn of events. Upon his return to the Omatikaya clan Spider had assumed that most outside of a few humans from the lab outpost would remember him, let alone receive a courting gift from one of the clan’s finest Na’vi males. 

Is that what this is? A courting gift?

Although, Zhali had used all the proper words one would upon extending a courting gift and beaming at Spider’s acceptance, it’s still difficult to be one hundred percent certain that is what had occurred. The ogling he had done over the garment in front Zhali had been taken in with a smile bursting of pride that seared into Spider’s countenance. The blush that erupted over his tan skin wasn’t even comprehensible until the heat was enough to have him sweating underneath the glass of his mask. 

Looking back, Spiders knows that his gratitude had been little more a stumbling of thank you’s and rambled thoughts that hardly finished into full sentences. It didn’t seem to matter, however, as Zhali had left the pair with a stride that made him look as if he was walking on clouds. Truthfully, Spider often makes that comparison when watching the male prance along the forest with ease. He wouldn’t necessarily call it ogling….just keen observations that he can’t help but make. 

Neteyam had been almost entirely silent during the exchange and when Zhali had broken away, his only comment had been something about the smooth fabric being made of rare materials only present in the Hallelujah mountains. Spider had done nothing more than nod in response. Now, meeting up with Lo’ak once more, Neteyam jumps in to relay the scene to his younger brother. Lo’ak simply smirks and shoots Spider a wink. 

It punches through his blood and once again Spider finds sweat gathering at the edges of his mask. He knows his friend better than he would like to at times, so he knows that looks like that always come with a reason from Lo’ak. He seems neither surprised nor reluctant to let that signature smirk show. 

Perhaps it isn’t in his head after all. 

A courting gift for him. 

Made specifically for him. 

It’s disheartening when Spider realizes that he never expected to receive one of these. 

He makes an excuse about needing rest in order to get away from the Sully brothers as soon as possible. Once back inside the common area of the outpost, he flings the sweat mask off of his face and to the side carelessly. 

“Spider.” Norm sighs from his work station. No words are needed to show that he does not approve of the boy’s disregard of the equipment. 

“Busy.” Spider rushes out before practically sprinting to his room. That is if it can be called a room. It’s a corner of the outpost that Spider had managed to claim for himself with old drapes hung up messily for privacy and a hammock strung up that he had made himself. His greatest and most rare possession however was a floor length mirror. Spider had gone through Hell and back in order to get it here. And by Hell, he meant literal Hell’s Gate where the RDA had left their fancy gear behind the first time. 

He rushes to throw the bag of fruit to the side and shuffles himself over onto the bed. The soft cloth is unfolded as if he is about to handle the rarest of Pandora’s diamonds and to Spider it might as well be.  Perhaps even more valuable considering the rarity. 

The fabric slipped along his fingers like the sway of a rushing river, a smooth effortless motion. His own grimy hands caked with dirt and a hint of blood from rough housing with Neteyam look horrifying next to the carefully crafted garment. In fact, it’s enough to have Spider setting the piece to the side and rushing to the bathroom so he can wash his hands. It would be a shame to ruin the loincloth so quickly simply because of his bad hygiene. 

Stomping past Norm and the other lounging scientists he tries to ignore him. 

“Kid, what have I told you about leaving your mask on the ground?” Norm huffs but Spider is already closing the door to the cramped bathroom.

He may have been a teenager when he was captured by the RDA but now has come into full adulthood. Something Norm seems to have a hard time understanding. Spider doesn’t care how much water he hogs in order to get every speck of dirt and grime from his hands. He only leaves the cramped bathroom when his skin is scrubbed raw and red. 

Leaning back against the woven hammock he allows himself the proper time to just admire the details of his new gift. It’s a beautiful emerald green with precise stitching that works to outline patterns of leaves and greenery. Under the harsh light of the outpost bulbs, the boy admires the way the thread glimmers with the shift of light. He thanks Eywa that it has a back panel. It may be something he is used to seeing with Na’vi but Spider can not imagine having his own ass hanging out of his loincloth, especially without a tail for it to wrap around. 

Once he finally wrangles up the courage to try on the loincloth he is amazed to see how perfectly it fits. The fabric is like silk against his rough skin. Or at least what he remembers silk to feel like from that one time another scientist let him touch her silk pillowcase. The band is woven of various colored threads and twine that come together to create criss cross patterns. His fingers brush them softly in a silent reverence. 

Spider looks at the mirror and allows himself to drink in the sight. Most days, the boy uses the mirror to simply swat at his dreadlock hair or repaint the blue stripes on his skin, but never can he remember a time that he uses it to admire himself. To look at his appearance head on and feel something more than indifference or longing to be a version of himself that is blue and a few feet taller. 

Being a human is something that Spider has learned to make peace with, but that doesn’t mean he particularly likes the look of himself. The blue stripes help slightly to cover the extra squish of his body that is normally nonexistent across Na’vi stomachs. With the beautiful garment now fitted perfectly to his hips, Spider notices for the first time how good a color besides blue looks on him. 

The heap of leather that is his usual loincloth seems like nothing more than a discarded washcloth now. Jake had been the one to show him how to weather the material and fashion it into clothing but from there the job had been his own to update the garment in stride with his growth spurts. 

The loincloth is so  clean and pristine in comparison to the rest of Spider’s appearance that for a moment he considers putting it away for safekeeping. What would happen if he tore a hole in it or got dirt rubbed into the careful stitching? It’s too beautiful to take the risk. 

However, when his fingers start to undo the carefully tied knots at the sides, he catches another glance of himself in the mirror and he hesitates. It looks so much better than before. He looks so much better than before. Maybe it has nothing to do with the loincloth’s quality at all. Perhaps it’s the careful thought and effort put into such an extraordinary gift. A thought for him. Just him and only him. 

One simple reminder that someone thinks he is worthy of nice things. 

Spider allows himself the privilege of wearing this reminder throughout the day. 

Zhali does not have many opportunities to spend time with Spider, especially without the company of others. Most nights he only gets to share a few sentence exchanges with the boy before either him or Spider is pulled away by their responsibilities or nagging friends. It doesn’t kill his spirits, however, not when he notices how beautiful the tawtute looks wearing his courting gift. Pride swells to the size of a balloon in his chest upon seeing how perfect the fit is. This feeling only inflates to new bounds when he sees Spider wear the garment every day without fail. 

Having been entrusted with leading one of the hunting parties on a daily basis, Zhali finds himself daydreaming about the male between patrols and petting down the direhorse. The other Na’vi in the crew do not fail to notice his shift in demeanor. Although some of them spread rumors that it has to do with Zhali’s unbridled affection for a certain golden haired tawtute, no one goes out of their way too complain. Controversial or not, Zhali is more forgiving of their mistakes when he is in high spirits. It matters not that it comes from a small Sky Demon. 

Lo’ak continues to assist Zhali in preparing another gift for Spider. This time they settle on weaving together a simple but stunning armband. Surprisingly this requires more experience and skill than the loincloth but he has never been one to back away from the struggle that comes from picking up a new trade. Zhali’s fingers work tirelessly as Lo’ak chatters on about the Metkayina clan and what adventures he missed. 

Later that night Zhali listens to the encroaching thunder that rumbles in the distance. Even his direhorse hesitates in his stride but he urges him forward. There is less than an hour left of his patrol and then he will return to his carefully crafted hut to get some much needed rest. However, now the sound of thunder and lightning is becoming more pressing and the male becomes less and less sure of how soon that sleep will come. 

It comes as no surprise when the first drops of rain quickly picks up into a full downpour. Lo’ak grumbles next to him, but Zhali ignores the other male’s mumbled curses and directs them to split up so more ground can be covered. They might as well check up on the family huts and make sure everyone has the sufficient coverings and supplies needed for the storm.  

It’s when he’s wading through the heavy greenery and wiping water from his eyes that Zhali catches sight of something peculiar. He follows the movement of bushes slowly, urging the direhorse to tread carefully. With the blanket of falling rain it’s difficult to identify the small creature wading through the greenery. Judging by the amount of rustle it creates, Zhali concludes that the creature must be either injured or panicking in the storm. He urges the horse to prowl closer as the rain pelts against his back mercilessly. 

It becomes near impossible to see anything in the thick greenery but there is a series of snapping branches and he watches as the beast comes tumbling down the hill. It rolls and crashes along the greenery before finally hitting the bottom of a tree trunk with a grunt. Through the thick sheet of rain, Zhali finally catches a glimpse of golden hair flying in the wind.

Spider!

He’s off the direhorse within a heartbeat and racking through the thick leaves moments later. Spider is sprawled out on the muddy ground, limbs stretched in every direction. The boy blinks, seemingly trying to comprehend the turn of events. 

“Spider.” Unintentionally Zhali words come out as a hiss. The Na’vi searches over the boy’s body frantically to see if there are any fatal wounds. With limited light it’s difficult to fully see where the sources of blood are so he shifts to use his fingertips to feel for wounds. Spider simply groans and stares up at him through slitted eyes as Zhali weaves through his hair in search of a head injury. He prays to the Great Mother that he won’t find one. 

The Sky Demon’s small body is covered in mud and littered with a plethora of bruises and bleeding scrapes. Luckily, none of these injuries appear to be more serious than the deeper cut over his shoulder. It will require bandaging and a series of healing ointments to prevent infection. Zhali is already running through the list of healing procedures he plans to execute on the boy when Spider’s voice finally breaks him out of the trance. 

“Hey.” Spider speaks in a gravelly hushed tone. “I-I’m ok.” He goes to sit up but a large blue hand covering half of his chest, gently pushes him back down. “Sorry I just lost my grip….got a little disoriented but…yeah sorry.” 

“You’re bleeding.” Zhali says bluntly. 

Spider looks down to see a smear of red painting his shoulder. Zhali watches his reaction with perked ears and pointed tail on alert but Spider simply knits his brows together and shrugs. However, the small being is unable to hide the grimace that flashes across his features. It has become a real effort on Zhali’s part to learn the ways of reading human expression, especially ones covered by those ridiculous masks. It can be incredibly frustrating trying to read one’s reaction without a flickering tail or ears to give away the boy’s state. 

“Oh shit, yeah, I guess I am. It’s ok…the outpost has a first aid kit so…” 

It’s then Zhali’s turn to scrunch his features in confusion. 

A first aid kit? Is that another one of those Sky Demon inventions those scientists are so fond of? Once Zhali had snuck down with Lo’ak and Neteyam when they were teens to the outpost and he had caught sight of things beyond his wildest imagination…or rather wildest horrors. He had watched as giant trunk shaped contraption fold around a human before sucking him into the wall. Lo’ak and Neteyam had later explained that these were the devices used by the Avatars to dream walk. Zhali could never erase how similar it had looked to the coffins that Jake had once described, the constricting box made to bury dead bodies. 

Would they put Spider in there too? Or something else? Perhaps this first aid kit would be even worse. 

No. He would not be returning to the outpost for those horrors. Zhali is more than capable of patching up the injuries and giving Spider the care he truly deserves. 

“No need, come. I will take you home.” Zhali says while carefully helping the boy to finally sit up. Spider’s lips purse for a moment as if he is about to say something but he must have read that wrong because it disappears just as quickly as it came and the small tawtute remains silent. 

It is, however, when Zhali easily lifts the male into his arms that Spider strings together a nervous onslaught of objections. 

“Oh woah, hey it’s ok. I can walk. I-I’m not really that hurt-”

Lightning strikes across the night sky. Thunder is quick to follow and by the sounds of deep rumbling, Zhali is confident that the storm is only about to get worse. Spider squeaks when he is easily lifted onto the direhorse without response. The other male makes quick work of sliding in behind him and reconnecting tsaheylu before the direhorse becomes too freaked out by the tawtute’s presence. It’s almost second nature to slip his forearms securely around Spider’s waist, keeping him safely atop the creature. 

He can feel the boy shiver in his embrace, but it’s difficult to tell whether it is from his touch or the relentless onslaught of rain.

“Thanks.” Spider’s mumble barely rings audible over the storm’s fury. The small sound still manages to bring a smile to Zhali’s face as he nods back in recognition and they begin their journey back towards the village. 

Despite the fact that Spider is conscious and not nearly as injured as he could’ve been, he is anxious to get the human to the healer’s tent as soon as possible. This urgency only increases when he can physically feel the boy’s body shaking like a leaf in the wind. His arm tightens around the small male, hoping to let some of his own natural body heat transfer over to him. It’s disconcerting to see how easily a little tawtute can be affected by the elements. It  serves as another reminder of how fragile the pretty boy truly is. It’s easy to forget at times when Spider is swinging from branches like a monkey, but now all he can see in his mind’s eyes is the replay of his small body tumbling down the steep decline helplessly. 

It’s then that Zhalie remembers the cloak he has packed away by the saddle. He manages to wrap the thick fabric around both of them. It covers Spider completely and to the male’s delight he finds that the human curls up against his warm chest. He’s satisfied to find that this solution keeps the pelting rain from attacking Spider any further. 

Zhali is made for these types of elements but he can only imagine how Spider’s small fragile body could be reacting to such harsh conditions. He makes a mental note to learn more about human anatomy in the coming days. Perhaps Lo’ak could arrange some sort of meeting with one of the remaining medical Sky Demons at the outpost. He hates the smell of chemicals and sterilized metal there but it would be preferable to the real feeling of inadequacy he has now. 

To his horror Zhali finds that the pathway to Tshaik’s tents has already eroded into a rushing stream and the tent itself is completely abandoned. He checks in with the Olo’eyktan over the throat comm and comes to find that Mo’at has fled to higher ground with the injured and sick to wait out the storm. With Spider barely conscious in his curled up position against him, Zhali decides that the only logical course of action is to bring the boy back to his kelku for the night. 

No matter, there are sure to be enough supplies at his home to patch Spider up and take care of him before the condition gets worse. 

Or at least, that is what he mentally assures himself over and over again until they reach the trunk of his kelku. 

Zhali is forced to let Spider crawl up the trunk himself as the tawtute is less than willing to let himself be carried again. He considers overriding this decision but he figures it’s already lucky enough that the blonde hasn’t insisted on being dropped off at the outpost instead. He takes the tender mercy in stride and makes sure to be below the boy in case he manage to slip, constantly ready to catch him if needs be. 

Zhali is in full action mode as he goes about efficiently securing the waterproof drapes. Spider hangs back, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. Once the task is finished he turns around to find the boy’s arms wrapped around himself, seemingly curling up in on himself as trembles still wrack his body. It is such stark contrast to the usual confident and sassy demeanor that Spider upholds. Whether it is from the cold or the slightly traumatic situation, Zhali vows to coax the boy into being at ease as soon as possible. 

“I-it’s nice.” Spider manages to mumble out before audibly clearing his throat. Those hazel eyes roam over the darkened room as Zhali makes quick work of building a small fire and setting a pot of water over to warm. His own eyes stray from the fire to recall what state his kelku has been left in. Luckily, he has always had a knack for organization and creating a cozy environment in his home. Still, there is no saying what a Sky Person considers to be cozy when it comes to decor. He prays to Eywa that Spider’s preferences are not aligned with that of the suffocating and hard steel in the human outpost. 

“Thank you.” 

Spider tries to hide the wince that graces his features when he rolls his shoulder, but even in the dim glow of a fire, Zhali can clearly see the distress.

“Come. You are bleeding.” He motions Spider forward and luckily the boy does not protest.

Spider does, however, hesitate as those hazel eyes scan over the empty span thoughtfully. Zhali starts to think something is wrong but then it dawns on him. The boy’s body is speckled with mud and blood. Spider seems all too aware of this as he carefully squats over the clean woven floor. 

Of course this must be just Spider’s way of trying to be a polite guest while in his home, but it frustrates Zhali more than he expects. The beautiful human squats over the woven material as if he is unworthy to touch it. This behavior extends to all aspects of their encounter in the space as Spider is more than cautious to let himself enjoy any of the comforting ambience that Zhali has created in the space. He creeps into the area like an intruder, waiting to be shooed away. 

And it breaks Zhali’s heart. It shatters him to pieces to think that Spider would ever act in such a way when his presence alone is something to be celebrated. It’s borderline disappointing to think that Zhali has spent all this time over the past few weeks slowly preparing his kelku to become a welcoming place that Spider would be enticed to call his own someday, just for the boy to shy away from associating with it. 

“Sit.” Zhali puts a little more intensity behind the words than intended. He mentally curses at himself when Spider flinches in response but the human is already setting himself down gently. 

“The bleeding isn’t that bad.” Spider claims, but how would he know when the injury stretches across his right shoulder blade? 

Zhali goes to see for himself, reaching his enormously large hands towards the small creature, but then he pauses. 

“May I check?”

He idly notices that Spider’s breathing is no longer fogging up the glass of his mask? Has he stopped breathing? Was there something wrong with it? Oh Eywa, how does one fix that little thing if there is?

“Yeah.” 

The response is more of a puff of air than real words. Zhali allows himself to breathe now. 

Settling behind Spider feels natural and oddly comforting. He enjoys the way his body is haunched over the small blonde, as if he could create a Na’vi shield over the boy if any danger were to arise. The idea strokes his male pride for a moment until he remembers that he failed to shield Spider earlier. When…when he…

“How did this happen?”

“Well it was….you see….” Spider struggles before finally sagging with a sigh. “I fell.” Defeat is apparent in his tone. 

Zhali can not decide if he finds this explanation better or worse than the images he had conjured up. The thought of thanator claws scraping at the small being was terrifying, but then again, is it not more concerning to see that a simple fall is all it takes to injure him? This beautiful tawtute truly is so fragile. A simple misstep is all it would take to put him in danger. 

Spider appears to be thinking the same thing, but if the red cheeks and deep frown are anything to go by, it’s embarrassment rather than fear that rises to the surface. 

“Tawtute, this cut is deep. From how high did you tumble?” He tries his best to clean the cut with the rag as gently as possible, monitoring every flinch and shudder that ripples through Spider. 

“My bow got stuck up in the canopy. Thought I could get it down.” 

“It is still there?”

Spider nods.

“We will get it in the morning.” Zhali concludes smoothly as he dips the soft cloth back into the now warmed water. He checks it against his own skin first. The male may not know much about human anatomy but it’s clear that their response to the elements is more dramatic than his own. He would hate to accidentally expose the boy to any more harsh temperatures for the night. Once it is sufficiently clear that the rag is at a soothingly warm degree, he begins to glide it over Spider’s back. 

“Thanks I uh…I was kind of clumsy I guess. You don’t have to come with me in the morning though, I’m sure I can manage a bit better this time.” Spider rambles.

“I will not if you wish not for my company.” 

“No no, it’s not that.” Zhali peeks around the boy’s shoulder easily, braids swinging down as he openly observes the male’s expression. Spider’s turn a brighter shade of pink. Zhali finds he quite likes that shade. “Of course I would love for you to come. I just uh don’t want to make you go out of your way for me.” 

“You are never out of the way, Spider.” He sighs, tail curling in irritation. He shouldn’t need to make that clear, especially after efforts he has started towards his courtship. “You are the way.” 

He surveys the boy’s expression, but without twitching ears and a moving tail to give him away, it feels impossible to sense the shift in emotion there. He slowly retreats, not wanting to scare him off any more with the staring, but he lingers just long enough to see Spider catch his bottom lip between those blunt teeth. It’s a cute habit that Zhali has noticed from him, but one that he is still trying to understand fully. 

It’s obvious what his own response to the action is as his tewng grows uncomfortable, but that does little to help him decode Spider. Not to mention it makes him feel like an untrained teenager all over again, drooling at just about anything. 

“Spider.” 

He feels the boy straighten underneath his hands.

“Yeah?”

“What is your favorite color?” 

“What?”

Zhali is pleased to find that the area around the wound is finally clean and ready for bandaging. 

“Color. What is your favorite color?” He repeats. Spider only flinches slightly as he begins to lay the leaves covered in ointment over the small wound. He has to rip them into small pieces a few times so they don’t cover the whole expanse of Spider’s back. Doing so, however, draws his attention to the rest of the boy’s muddied and artificially stripped skin. Long fingers itch to reach for the warm rag again. 

“I um…I don’t know. Never really thought about it before.” 

Zhali’s eyebrows knit together. He is soon regretting his decision to sit behind the tawtute where he can’t even depend on the minor fluctuations of his small facial expressions for context. His tail thumps against the woven floor incidentally, but at least Spider can’t see that. When the urge becomes too strong, Zhali hesitantly starts running the warm cloth over the rest of Spider’s back.

“What do you say when people ask?” He takes Spider’s lack of flinching as a token of permission, scrubbing the dirt away from his tan skin with the gentlest touch he can muster. It’s interesting to see the way his skin turns a light pink after only a few strokes of the warm rag. It appears that Sky People’s skin is extremely sensitive and expressive to every substance it comes in contact with. He is pleased however to see that Spider’s muscles have begun to relax underneath each stroke and the shaking of his body has puttered out to a small vibration. 

“Well I don’t think anyone has ever asked me before to be honest.” Spider tries to slip in a small laugh but it’s strained. Those tiny four fingered hands come to gather his dreads and push them to the side before fondling them absently. 

Of course he knows that Lo’ak didn’t know the boy’s favorite color but for no one to ask? Never? By Eywa, what do the strange scientists at the lab that supposedly raised this male talk to him about? The negligence is infuriating and yet Zhali knows he shouldn’t be surprised. From the interactions he has seen between them, Norm acts more like a close friend than anything resembling a parental figure.

Spider pauses, head tilted as he ponders the question.

“I suppose red is not a bad one. Like the red from sunsets.”

Zhali’s lips turn down.

“Not green.” Disappointment lays heavy in his stomach, He should’ve known better than to trust Lo’ak as his source of information. 

“Green? Oh you mean cause of the loincloth. It doesn’t really-” Spider cuts himself off, turning silent as he looks down. 

Zhali’s ear perk forehead, wondering if he has somehow missed the end of that sentence. 

“Shit.” Spider whispers to himself. 

Peering over the boy’s golden dreads, Zhali finally finds the source of Spider’s silence. A jagged rip through the side of the loincloth. 

“Fuck I- Damnit, I didn’t realize and now….” Spider hunches forward inspecting it frantically.  “I’ve ruined it. All for my stupid fucking bow.” He grits out. “You worked so hard on it and I-”Spider gulps, voice heavy with emotion. 

“I will make another one.” 

“No no, you shouldn’t have to…..I-I’m sorry.” 

Zhali catches sight of glimmering tears welding over the boy’s eyes, ones that he refuses to shed. His heartbeat picks up more erratically when Spider allows his dreads to form a curtain over his face. 

“Spider, it is fine. I will make a new one. This time red.” As it should have been from the beginning. This would be his chance to redeem himself and give Spider the courting gift he truly deserved. Hesitantly he reaches out to sweep that golden hair away but Spider reels back. 

“Another one? N-no I cant ask that. It’s my fault I ruined it…it was…”

“The wrong color. I understand, tawtute.”

“No no no it….it was fucking perfect.” Spider sniffles and more than anything Zhali wishes he could see the boy properly, get that damn mask out of the way so he could wipe away the tears. “The nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” It’s whispered so soft and reverant that the Na’vi almost questions whether or not he heard it properly. 

It would be easier not to believe it.

Easier to believe that there were greater gestures the boy has received over the years than some simple pieces of clothing. 

Zhali shifts  forward, boldly sweeping the hair away so he can clearly see Spider’s sparkling eyes. 

“You deserve so much more than this.” He can see the boy’s lungs still with air. “So much more than a courting gift in the wrong color. More than a simple garment that pales in comparison to your beauty.” Spider’s blunt teeth naw at those soft pink lips. “More than jewels and bracelets. More than all the beauties of Pandora combined.” 

It’s as if the boy is frozen in time, air no longer passing through those lips. It’s borderline impossible to understand if this is a good or bad sign, but the truth is bursting from the seams, no longer willing to be kept prisoner. 

“You deserve a mate that will care for you. One that truly sees you.” Zhali catches a golden strand, tucking it behind Spider’s ear. Oh how he wishes to bury his face in that hair, to fully let the beautiful tawtute’s scent to sink in. 

His stomach twists into a bundle of knots but the words come regardless. 

“I see you, Spider.” 

Silence stretches between them but Spider’s eyes remain trained on him, pupils blown wide and breath stilled. A new form of anxiety settles itself as the seconds pass without a clear breath coming from him. 

“You do not have to say anything. I have only begun courting you after all. I simply thought you should kno-” 

Spiders cuts him off with a shake of his head, breath finally exhaled. Nothing, however, matches the horror Zhali feels as the boy reaches to lift his mask. 

“No Spider-” He catches his wrist.

“It’s ok.” Spider gently pries the hand from his wrist before taking a deep breath in. 

The mask is carefully slipped from his face but Spider gives him a reassuring smile when he spots the concern written over Zhali’s face. And then, the space between them decreases slowly, the boy’s face inching closer to his own until their noses brush. Those big doe eyes flicker between his own heated gaze and lips.

The first point of contact is hesitant and slow, but there is a certain tenderness to that gentle swipe of lips. Spider’s lips are so much smaller than his own, but ever so soft. So many moments have led to this one but his heart continues to race, ever so worried about hurting the small tawtute. 

It is Spider, however, that pushes it forward, small tongue swiping at his bottom lip. Zhali allows him. He gives the boy of his dreams access, gives him the world because there is nothing else he can manage to do, not when his wildest fantasies are coming true. Leisurely they each explore one another and melt into the kiss. 

He cups Spider face tenderly, hands easily covering each side of his head. He even allows his fingers to softly explore through the sunshine mane. Spider’s hands are more cautious, but every area they trace over has Zhali’s tail swinging back and forth exuberantly. 

In some ways this kiss is nothing in comparison to the other sexual rendezvous Zhali has experienced and yet it feels more intimate. Like finally having access to a beautiful masterpiece kept behind glass for so long. Finally getting to cherish Spider’s beautiful face instead of observing from a distance. 

At the first jerk of Spider’s chest, Zhali sternly repositions the mask over his face. His emotions swirl from pure elation to trepidation as he waits to hear that first breath. 

Spider lets out a small gasp for air, cheeks tinting as his chest expands and caves rapidly. Hands on the boy’s thighs, Zhali leans forward, eyes darting across the mysterious mask to make sure it is working properly. 

“Can you breathe?” He reaches forward to mess with the contraption, not that he has any idea how but he can’t help himself. 

“Yeah yeah…I can.” Spider lets out an airy laugh. “Well, mostly.” 

Zhali’s frown deepens urgency increasing but then he notices that dazed smile over the boy’s face. The giddy look in his eyes as that beautiful blush paints his cheeks once more. 

“It’s ok It’s ok.” Spider laughs, small hands prying Zhalil’s own off the mask. “I’m alright. Just a little overwhelmed.” 

“You promise, sevin?” Zhali sweetly pushes a few dreads away from Spider’s face, eyes studying him intently. 

Once again Zhali watches in awe as that tan skin quickly shifts to a darker shade of red, even traveling over Spider’s collarbones and chest. He follows that blossom of color downwards, eyes caught on the boy’s small nipples now perked in the cool air. He doesn’t try to hide the ogling, not now that the truth is out. 

“Y-yes.” Spider stutters.

“Good.” He breathes out, but his hands are already gliding over the soft skin of Spider’s sides. He takes in every reaction like a gift. The way the tawtute shivers when his ribcage is brushed, the way that blush only intensifies with Zhali’s darkening gaze, the way his nipples pebble under his long fingers as if they are aching to be touched. 

For so long Spider has been forbidden fruit. For even longer Zhali has dreamed of how this beautiful creature would feel in his hands, the sounds he could draw from him. Sitting here feels like a dream, one beyond his wildest imagination when a small groan escapes Spider. 

One hand dares to grip the boy’s left hip while the other swirls over one hardening nipple. Without a tail or ears it can be hard to read Spider but even Zhali can recognize the restraint his beautiful tawtute exhibits as his hips twitch and chest heaves. 

Spider’s eyes stray away from the intimate points of contact when Zhali leans forward to rest his temple against his. Breath fogs up the glass. 

“Spider”

“Yes?” He whispers. 

“Let me take care of you.” 

Spider’s thick lashes flutter rapidly as he visibly gulps. 

“But I….w-why?” He stutters, as if unable to process the concept. 

“Because you deserve it, sevin.” He squeezes his hip gently as Spider stares at him with big hazel eyes. A color that he could easily get lost in. Ones that goes greatly with Spider’s now swollen pink lips. 

He has never been so desperate to please such a beautiful being. 

“Let me make you feel good, yawne.” Spider’s eyes flutter closed when the Na’vi rakes his longer fingers through his hair. “Please, yawntutsyip.” 

Spider melts in the touch, letting the Na’vi cradle the back of his head. 

“Let me show you how I’d take care of you if you’d be mine.” His softly scratches along his scalp, delighting in the way Spider’s small form goes slack. 

A new spice intertwines with Spider’s scent, filling Zhali’s lungs until it has become his own personal drug. 

“Sevin?”

“Y-yes yes, ok yeah I-I…yes.” Spider exhales, words tumbling together. 

Zhali grins.

Spider is sure he’s hallucinating. So sure that somewhere in that fall he hit his head a little too hard and now suffers from delusions. It’s the only explanation he has to explain how this god of a Na’vi has decided to please him. The only way he can comprehend not only being allowed in his kelku but furthermore have those sharp teeth tracing over his abs. 

Looking down at the male who kisses and nips at his body like it’s art made just for him, Spider is content to let this hallucination continue. He will spend the rest of his life in this dream if it means staying cradled in his arms, if it means feeling that hot tongue explore his body intimately. 

True intimacy can be hard to come by for Spider.

Kiri tries and Jake will occasionally ruffle his hair but it does little to satiate what he really needs. Now, however, seems to be the worst time to realize how touch starved he is. It’s embarrassing how difficult it is to keep himself from squirming or God forbid even bucking up into every touch and kiss. 

It’s worse than being a teenager in his hammock trying to get himself off. At least then he was in the privacy of his own company but Zhali’s touch is like lightning in comparison to his own. His hands are so much larger that when the Na’vi goes to cup his head or slink down his chest, it covers the expanse easily. 

It’s when Zhali pushes him down with a hand to his chest that Spider realizes he might be into their size difference more than he anticipated. 

Neck craning to watch Zhali litter kisses along his lower abdomen, he burns in mortification when he spots his own boner through the green loincloth. He wants to believe that Zhali has not noticed this before but even he knows that Na’vi have greatly enhanced senses. 

Fuck, he most likely already can smell his arousal, let alone see it. 

His blunt teeth sink into his bottom lip harder as he holds back the jumble of moans that threaten to break loose. 

It’s pathetic. 

Already in adulthood and yet all it takes for him to rut like a hormonal teenager are a few well placed kisses and bites. 

Open mouthed kisses are meticulously placed along his v line until he has reached his right hip. Something sharp draws along his skin and Spider sees the  Na’vi’s teeth bared. Their eyes connect for a moment and it appears to be all the confirmation that Zhali requires before he takes the plush flesh into his mouth and sucks hard. 

A shocked cry falls from Spider’s lips as his back arches. 

Pain and pleasure dance together in symphony when those impressive teeth come into play. What has his legs shaking, however, is the knowledge that it will leave a mark. Even humans know what such a display means.

A marking to show he is being courted.

A marking to show that he is wanted and desired by a male prospect. 

“Am I hurting you, sevin?”

It takes a moment for the words to register.

“Wh- oh no no. You’re not.” 

“Hm, good.” Looking up through his lashes Zhali keeps their gazes pinned as he lays a tender kiss over the new mark. Those lips skate over his skin until reaching the intricate ties of his loincloth. 

Hands holding the male’s thighs apart, Zhali carefully secures a tie between his teeth and begins to pull. Watching that knot unravel feels like the longest seconds of Spider’s life. He isn’t sure if he needs it to speed up or slow down because his brain can hardly process what is to come. 

It isn’t his first time being bare before a Na’vi. Admittedly, other Na’vi, even among the Metkayina have had their curiosity sparked by Spider. Some shuffled him away with a rushed exploration and desperate touching that became all the sex life Spider had ever known. However, those had only left him unsatisfied and lonely again at the end of the night. 

This is different, however. 

Zhali, although curious, doesn’t explore him for his own pleasure but rather Spider’s.

He takes in every new discovery and change like a masterpiece meant to be worshiped. He watches for the slightest flinch to signal a change and the smallest twitches of pleasure to indicate what spikes the boy’s pleasure. 

And when the silky loincloth falls away, the same one that Zhali had spent weeks carefully crafting especially for him, he doesn’t rush to grip or stroke. His heated gaze is the first thing to caress him, and then his voice.

“So magnificent, my tawtute.”

Spider can already feel himself trembling. This new emotion bubbling forward does not make it easier to gather restraint, to stop himself from appearing like a desperate lonely fool in front of this gorgeous man. 

Zhali kisses right next to the base and Spider forces himself to look away. 

This gentle worship does things to him that he could never have imagined and therefore could never have prepared for. He can’t watch this any longer without losing the reins. 

He can feel himself twitch as soft kisses are placed one by one around the base until every inch has been covered. Toes curling, Spider attempts to slow down his heartbeat. 

“Spider”

“Huh?”

He peaks to find Zhali looking up at him, large golden orbs taking in every flinch in his expression. 

“I am not hurting you?” He checks again.

“No no, of course not.” Spider chokes out, ears growing hot at the tremor in his voice. 

“Hm, I see.” He hums before his fingertips start drawing soft patterns over his hips. “You are tense, sevin.” 

His stomach flips.

“Fuck, yeah I know, I-I’m sorry. I understand if-”

Zhali hushes him sweetly, crawling forward to cup his face once more. 

“Spider,” His name from Zhali’s lips sounds like a song. “Do you want this?”

He doesn’t enjoy how fast he is nodding his head.

“Yes. I do, shit yeah I do. I’ll keep it together, I'm sorry.”

Zhali is shaking his head before he can even finish the sentence. 

“Sevin, do not apologize.” Zhali’s slim tail wraps itself around his calf and Spider has to hide the tremor along his lips. “I only need one thing from you.”

Spider gulps, leaning forward and ready to take the criticism. 

“I need you to relax.”

Spider flushes, fighting back the urge to gulp down the knot in his throat. 

“Yeah o-okay.”

Zhali is less than convinced but a warm smile crosses his lips. His fingers intertwine with the boy’s hair once more before he is raking them through those golden locks. The reaction is immediate, pleasurable shivers dissipating through Spider’s body. 

Never before had he realized how sensitive he is to this gesture but now with those gentle movements massaging his scalp, Spider feels like he could melt into molten gold. Zhali runs his face along the curve of his neck, marking him with his scent. 

The hand in his hair is used to tilt Spider’s head back and give him better access. A breath wooshes from the boy’s lungs. 

“Just focus on what you feel, sevin.” 

Soft lips lay a kiss behind his ear. 

“What feels good,” Zhali continues. 

Another kiss, this time to his pulse point. 

“What feels different.” 

Zhali’s textured tongue drags along his skin languidly. Spider hardly registers his own groan as he lets his weight fall into the Na’vi embrace. 

“What you want more of.” 

When the male begins sucking a hickey into the side of his neck, Spider can no longer keep a cap on his noises. A string of whines and moans fall from his lips as he finds rest in the moment. Eyes closed and mouth agape, he forgets where he is.

He forgets who he is. 

He forgets who he is not.

And Spider lets each exhilarating sensation guide his decisions. 

“Good boy.” Zhali whispers warmly against his pulse, licking over the mark to soothe. 

His hands firmly run down Spider’s sides, squeezing it greedily until his presence can not be forgotten. Taking control of every curve and line, Zhali plays him like an instrument. Spider lays back against the matt, golden hair creating a crown around him. Hazel eyes dilate before fluttering closed when soft kisses are left along his inner thighs. 

Sounds erupt from him that Spider doesn’t recognize when Zhali’s tongue begins exploring his length. His body buzzes with a new energy, nerves a lit with every swoop and swirl of that talented tongue. 

And even though his hips twitch in silent request for more, Spiders swears that he could live in the moment forever. 

“Such beautiful sounds, oeyä tawtute.” 

The compliment floods his cheeks and tugs at his chest. There is no longer room for self doubt as praises fall freely between the beautiful exploration of Zhali’s mouth. Every concern is hushed before it can fully bloom. 

“You taste so good, sevin. Don’t know how I went without you for so long.”

And then warmth encases his member in a rush. Zhali sucks his cock with such enthusiasm and vigor that it becomes difficult to see which partner enjoys themselves more. 

But it’s him.

Spider is sure it is him. 

He knows that there is no other Na’vi or human out there that feels the things he is feeling, that reaches such heights of ecstasy and passion in one night. He can’t fathom anyone else knowing the warmth, pleasure, and relief that washes over him. 

Nose to the boy’s navel, Zhali swirls his tongue around the boy’s base, easily able to take all of Spider within the warm cavern of his mouth. Spider’s hands shoot down and grab the Na’vi’s tied hair without thought. His fingers grip and tug at the neat bun until strands start to fall loose. 

“Oh fuck!” He shouts, blunts nails digging into his scalp. 

Zhali pulls back until his lips are sealed around only the bulbous tip. The point of his tongue runs over the slit brashly and Spider yanks on his hair. The action is rewarded with a carnal moan, the vibrations rocketing through the boy. 

Zhali likes to watch. Spider can feel those eyes trained on him without reprieve, no matter which way he squirms and bucks. At some point he feels strong hands pin his hips to the ground, forcing him to take the pleasure in its entirety. 

Spider isn’t used to the attention.

He isn’t used to the way Zhali mentally tracks his reactions and the actions associated with them. 

He isn’t used to the honey eyes drinking in the sight of him. 

But most of all, he isn’t used to being the center of attention.

It breaks him into a thousand pieces. 

His climax crashes so hard into him that his small hands search for something to ground him. They circle around Zhali’s kuru tugging as he spills into the male’s mouth. 

The sound that erupts from Zhali is unlike anything Spider has ever heard from him. So far from the polite, organized and formal male that he has known. It rings forth with a raspy texture and a deep serenade that sets his world on fire. 

Not a drop is wasted and Zhali doesn’t release his twitching length until Spider is pushing back his head. 

He falls limp against the mat, bowl pupils staring up at the world in a daze. He can briefly sense the careful precision Zhali takes to kiss every mark before running a warm cloth over him but it’s background noise to the symphony playing in his head. 

“Thank you, sevin.” 

That deep voice now with a raspy tint weaves into his consciousness as Spider revels in the tingling aftershock running through his body. He can only manage a lazy smile when Zhali comes up to check on him. 

“Just give me….give one minute and then I….I can help.” He manages to get out between pants. Zhali’s brows furrow until he sees the boy eyeing his tented loincloth. 

“You have done more than help today, tawtute. Given me more than I could have asked for.” And he grins so sincerely that Spider can’t fathom how the male could feel this way. In every sexual interaction he has had, there was always a return of the favor, that is assuming Spider finished in the first place. But Zhali looks at him like he hung the moon, eyes glimmering in delight as he wipes him down with a warm cloth.

“You…you don’t want me to touch you?” 

Zhali traces idle lines over Spider abs happily. 

“Of course I do, but how would that serve the proper purpose? I am courting you.” Zhali stands and begins preparing the hammock for them. He arranges extra pillows and blankets that Spider has never seen other Na’vi have before. In fact, there is a great deal of influence from Sky People culture present in the male’s kelku. Things that only a human would find necessary. 

Before he can protest, Spider is carried carefully to the hammock and laid across the Na’vi chest. He tucks a blanket around the boy’s hips, making sure it isn’t too tight but still brings the wet tawtute some warmth. 

“Although, I admit. This is out of order. It was supposed to be step twelve but do not worry. I will make sure not to skip over any. Fourteen steps to go.” He nods firmly, lips perking upwards.  

Spider’s brain sputters, head still fuzzy from the best orgasm of his life. Tonight feels like a dream, an absolute horny amazing romantic dream that his subconscious has whipped up. He can barely process the night’s turn of events, let alone this handsome male wanting to go through an extensive courting process all for him. 

“Fourteen? You….but…that is so much.” 

Zhali’s hairless brows furrow. 

“It’s hardly enough, sevin. It’s important that you have enough proof of my ability to provide, protect, and love before you make your choice. So you can weigh your options.” 

As if he has other options.

Who would surpass this?

Who has ever even tried?

Zhali continues to run his fingers through the human’s hair as he sighs happily, watching as Spider shifts closer. 

“I do not expect an answer now, sevin. But hopefully tonight is a start to convincing you.”

Rain pelting down on the kelku and wrapped in this amazing man’s arms, Spider’s eyes fill with tears again. 

To call it convincing would be an understatement. 

Thanks for reading. As always, I truly appreciate hearing your thoughts. It motivates me to write and update more. Love you all<3

Taglist: @tallulah477 @eywaite @itchaboi-itchyboy @perfectprofessorloverapricot @xylianasblog @neteyamssyulang

[suugarbabe]

This is not at all me projecting my own thoughts or feelings earlier today

Warnings: body image issues; major fluff; NOT proofread and written at work 💀; I think it reads pretty general neutral despite using an image that says sweet girl at the top but let me know otherwise??

It always seems to happen randomly, but at the same time you notice a pattern. You’ll be confident for days, really, truly feeling yourself. Thinking you look great in everything, noticing your confidence start to rise. And then it shifts. Usually a glimpse in a mirror or other reflective surface at an awkward angle sparks it, and tonight at the party it was the windows in the Slytherin common room. The usual view of the black lake is still there, but sans sunlight the murky view becomes black, creatures only visible if they’re nearly against the windows surface. A seemingly perfect scenario for classmates who want to party; a horrific scenario for you in this state of mind.

You had felt semi-confident earlier tonight, especially when you first entered the party with your friends and Enzo’s large hands that seems to cover the expanse of your back as he pulled you closer, chest flush to his as he kissed your forehead, “Stunning, per usual, baby.”

In your reflection now was all of your fears, all of your mistakes. Do my hips really have no shape from the front? One on your hands slid down your side as you took a long drink from your glass, your stomach dropping when you convinced yourself there was no real shape. Does my neck really look like that from the side? Oh god, what does he even see in me. Your thoughts kept you spiraling further and further.

Standing in front of the window seemed to be the only thing you could do, distracted from the party around you, not even glimmeringly aware of Enzo’s head popping above the crowd and the furrowed brow he acquired noticing you staring off into the distance of abyss that was the lake. He shoved through the crowd, easily ignoring complaints and protests to get closer to you. His hands on your hips, or lack there of in your current opinion, are what finally pulled you from your trance. You jumped slightly at the action, pushing his hands off your body quickly.

“Baby,” the sentiment left Enzo’s lips in a breathy laugh, “what’s goin on? You playing a game with me, sweet thing?” He took a step toward you, hands reaching out for you once more. When he was able to grasp hold, there was no hiding the way your body tensed. Your free hand grasped at the front of your neck, holding tight and pushing under your chin. Enzo’s face immediately turned serious, letting go of your waist and setting your cup down before lacing his fingers with yours.

Enzo guided you through the crowd, keeping you close and pushing people away as to make sure barely anyone touched you. “Oi, where you going, Berk?” Theo stopped his friend, a hand clasped on his shoulder. “I’m over the party. I’m taking them with me,” Enzo nodded towards you as he kept walking despite Theo’s protests for him to continue to party. There was no point in resisting, you knew that Enzo was determined to talk to you about what was bothering you and there was no avoiding it. You followed silently, the music of the party slowly fading as you went further up the stairs towards the dorm.

Once inside his room he let go of your hand, going to his trunk and pulling out a pair of pyjama bottoms and a tshirt, “Here, put these on.” You oblige, shedding your party clothes that you were starting to hate anyway. Enzo changed as well before climbing his lanky figure onto his bed, arms open wide and beckoning you to do the same. You walked over slowly, climbing into bed at a sloth pace, Enzo not even teasing to rush you. You settled near him, but not against him, which didn’t go unnoticed but he didn’t push immediately, instead just asking you once more, “What happened just now. By the window.” You shrugged, “I was just noticing some things is all.”

Enzo pushed slightly, “Noticing what? Your beauty?” His tone was slightly teasing, but you knew it didn’t reach him fully with the concern he was having. “More like the lack of it,” you mumbled before a small gasp left you as Enzo pulled you underneath him, his knees now straddling your hips with ease as his hands caged you in on either side of your head. You stared up at him, noticing the sad look in his amber eyes, “Why would you say that? Did someone tell you that? Am I getting in a fight tomorrow?” You smiled slightly, shaking your head. You wrapped your hands around his forearms, “You’d have to fight me then, cause I’m the only one telling myself the negative, or the truth. I haven’t quite determined yet.” Enzo frowned at this, “Baby, what are you telling yourself?”

You let out a sigh, “Just that I’m shapeless, my neck is gross, and I have no idea why you’re with me.” Enzo’s frown lines seemed to deepen with every word you spoke. You closed your eyes, wanting to avoid whatever it was he looked like he was about to say, maybe lessen the blow of the scolding he was about to give you. Instead you felt his soft lips connect with the exposed skin of your neck. “I love your neck. You know why, hmm?” His words are mumbled slightly against your skin. “Because you’re delusional?” You chide.

He laughs slightly, the notion vibrating against your jugular as he nuzzles deeper into you, “Because it holds up that big beautiful brain, what makes you, you gorgeous.” You groan with a slight smile, “Enzie…you’re being cheesy.” The smile he then adorns is sickeningly sweet, “Get ready for a platter because it’s only going to get worse.” He scoots his body down lower, nestling himself between your legs, “And I love your legs, not just burying my face between them,” he bit the inside of your thigh through the pajama pants, making you pull his hair and lift his head up, “my love, these legs brought you to me, they show how strong you are; trust me when I say I’ve had to threaten a few guys and girls for staring too long for my liking.”

A playful squeeze to your hips is next, your smile returning more naturally and encouraging him further, “And these hips, this stomach,” he pressed a kiss over the tshirt, “my favorite place to rest my head after a long day.” And just as said he laid his head on top of you, instinctively you start to play with his hair, running your nails lightly against his scalp. He hummed happily, “I can hear your heart beat like this, can hear when it slows and levels out, that’s how I know you’ve fallen asleep during movies.”

He wrapped his arms under and around you now, “now if you don’t mind, I think I’ll fall asleep like tonight.” He nuzzled his face against your stomach, really making himself comfortable. You closed your eyes, just relishing in Enzo’s affection. “Thank you,” it left your lips in almost a whisper. Enzo gave you another squeeze, “Always, Angel.”

[krahk]

Blood for Ruin

(Or, Alastor and That One Time He Got Drunk and Forgot He Tried To Make a Black Magic Agreement With a Radio Only For It to Come Back to Him in the Worst Way)

Masterlist

Pairings: Alastor x Reader (She/Her/OFC) as reluctant semi-soulmates via non-consensual deal (on both ends). No use of Y/N.

I understand he is aroace, but I couldn’t stop thinking about this idea so here it is.

Eventual smutty smut happening, but be kind dear god am I rusty.

_________________________________________

Exhausted was simply not what you were - you were so past that, your brain so fried out that you didn’t even know what word you were.

Because if you were seeing smiling figure-like shadows on the walls with long dark tendrils wrapping around your surroundings, and radio static from nowhere, then yea. You were fried.

But hey, it had been a crazy long weekend. You’d just spent the last 4 days cleaning up your hoarder of a great aunts shack in the Bon Temps bayou with the other scattered remainder of her family, rooting through about 4 unidentifiable rooms with confirmed animal carcasses and straight up trash-garbage piled to the ceilings. But since your mother died, any family connection at this point was appreciated, right?

‘Couldn’t be more wrong, but it’s too late now’, you think. It was way too late to back out now, you had something to prove. Your Great Aunt’s remaining son had called you ‘slicker’ because you lived in a town with more than one lighted intersection for Christ's sake. And because you used ‘whom’ in a sentence, that opened up an entirely new thrush of nicknames from your distant cousins. You wouldn’t be beaten down, you guys were almost all done with the cleanup anyway, the only remaining items being that of actual use or salvageable material. A couple family members had taken a few items home already, and since you weren’t particularly close with these relatives you weren’t about to ask for anything until-

Well until the little radio was brought out.

For some reason, the craftsmanship of this radio caught your eye. It was a beautiful dark wood, with intricate swirls carved around the speakers - the entire thing was shaped like a miniature church cathedral window. It was clearly vintage, basically a historical piece, you thought - and you did ask quietly if you could keep it. Your uncle fiddled with it to make it work but it needed some attention. It looked virtually untouched otherwise. It was a gorgeous piece, and it looked like it was a new acquisition to the deceased woman’s collection - there wasn’t a spec of dust visible on it. Your uncle figured it wouldn’t be able to pick up football (and also “why would I listen to football when I can WATCH it?”) he let you take it with you.

So you brought it back to your temporary home, the little motel at the outskirts of town (the only motel even close to the town) and set it on the little desk. And there it sat for 2 days before you finally dove in, trying to figure out what was going on with it. You had deduced it was likely the wiring, and after watching 5 or 6 videos on wiring repair on YouTube (good old YouTube) you were fairly confident a simple repair would take no time at all.

But things made in the 20s were a lot sharper, and more metal based, compared to the newer plastic models of recent years. So when you undid the back panel and attempted to unscrew a fastener around the side of the main component, you had successfully sliced your palm open on an errant piece of metal. And holy crow did it hurt AND gush blood immediately. Even though you had whipped your hand close to your chest almost as soon as you realised what had happened it was too late, there was a fair amount of blood that got on the inside of the machine.

Uttering curses, you’d rushed to the bathroom to grab a couple threadbare cloths and sop up some of the larger drops on the desk. Moving around the radio to the light, you had a clearer idea of where your blood landed. Palming one cloth in your wounded hand, your other one attempted to clean up the mess within the radio. Which is where you noticed the funny little symbols written on the inside of the back panel of the radio, which had lain facedown on the desk as soon as you had removed it. These little symbols looked like runes of some sort, unidentifiable to you. They almost looked like they were written out of blood themselves. It was clearly dried now, but the jagged nature of the strokes and brownish un-ink like material that was used to leave the symbols certainly looked like dried blood might look like on old wood.

You wiped your blood off the radio, and ran the cloth right over one of the runes, making it glow briefly with a green light. Maybe.

Well, that was what you thought you saw. But it was so brief you would have missed it with a well timed blink. The sun was setting, light streaming through the window in hazy little streaks, maybe you saw some prismatic effect? Or maybe, maybe you needed a shower and bed. Clearly if you sliced your hand open on a little radio you were tired. Sloppy coordination indeed. You reattached the back panel to the radio and decided to ignore it until you were in a better headspace.

Radio abandoned, you went and started to clean yourself up and get ready for sleep. But when the lights in the bathroom started to flicker, only to stay on slightly duller than before, paired with a strange static that scratched the inside of your eardrums, you decided to end your shower quicker than ever. Exiting the bathroom, you were chilled to realise that the main room had the same ambient experience waiting for you. And if you focused on the moving shadows from what you hoped were passing cars (electric, judging by the lack of engine noise) there was a solid larger mass lingering on the wall with the dresser and broken TV. One that looked like it had a smile, and glowing red eyes (from a car's tail lights, duh!). Yes, yes. Tired. SO tired.

Calling the front did not help, since the static was so loud when you lifted up the receiver you slammed it back down. Your own cell phone was still charging on the side table, flashing the little dead battery symbol to let you know you needed to be more responsible with your charging habits in the future. It could be another 15 minutes before it was ready to turn on.

So, obviously tired, it was time to attempt to sleep. Hopefully. If you were lucky. It wasn’t enough that the bayou was creepy all on its own, the evening took a sharp turn into scary-town after you started messing with the little radio.

Pyjama-clad and ready to sleep you decided that the hallucinations were exactly what you thought they were - hallucinations and nothing more. Nothing spooky, or supernatural, or dangerous.

But you had been wrong before.

It was the initial crashing sound of the motel room door hitting the wall that woke you up first, screaming male voices really kicking your brain into high alert as you scrambled out of bed. Ending up in the corner facing the opposite corner where the door was, you took in what was happening. 2 men, yelling at you for whatever you had - but you were screaming louder than they were, scrambling for anything in your grasp - just that stupid, fucking radio - but judging by the hot impact of a projectile hitting your chest they were not thrilled you weren’t immediately cooperating. Hand clenching around the radio’s cord you hit the corner and slumped down to the floor, lungs burning and immense pain taking over your consciousness. As your mind faded, you could hear the two men bickering, freaking out over the turn their burglary took. Oh, you being shot was an accident? Stellar. Your vision became hazy, it even looked like shadows were overtaking the men as their arguing turned into painful screaming. Whoever came to your aid was simply too late, though you could appreciate the gesture as you died.

You always thought that you would end up looking down at your dying body when the time came, but from the forceful pull downwards your soul felt, it was clear the afterlife had different plans for you.

Now you weren’t really sure what the hell, like actual, literal, hell, was going on. The impact you felt from your sharp tug into the afterlife, landing on a very detailed rug at what looked like the lobby of a hotel was one thing. The tiny radio following your fall shortly after, merely denting a corner of the wood with a loud thunk was another, cord still clenched in your hand. Oh good!

Dazed, you were immediately hoisted up and hugged - yes hugged - by probably the tallest women you had ever met, and the fastest talking one as well. Rambling about “welcome”, “hell rehab”, something or other about redemption - honestly the look of relief you gave the shorter woman who approached and reined in the other made her smirk as she introduced them in a much clearer manner.

Vaggie and Charlie. Vaggie was a resident of the hotel with her girlfriend, the owner and operator of this ‘Hazbin Hotel’, Charlie, both working at redeeming the souls of sinners and getting them into heaven. There were 2 residents, Angel & Sir Pentious, who were not present, a Janitor Nifty (currently wiping your landing spot with a cloth) the bartender, an angry bird-cat man Husk, and the host (also missing) Alastor. Your open mouthed confusion clearly made Charlie snap into attention (finally) because she finally morphed into a being that was capable of conversation.

“So, new to hell?” She inquired.

Well. Duh. “Um yes. I think I was just shot? Am I actually dead?” You asked, hopeful this was a very vivid nightmare.

“As a doornail!” She exclaimed, chipper with positive energy, “Not that doornails are dead, they don’t have souls like you or Angel but really-”

“Yes. You’re dead. And a sinner, which is why you’re here.” Vaggie cut in, patting Charlie on the back. Charlie smiled brightly and nodded at you.

“Yes, and here you can redeem yourself and hopefully make it to heaven! I have faith in our program.”

Oh god this was too much. The sound of a door opening and closing was faintly heard in the background, but that didn’t stop you from being a speedy spiral into mania.

“So. One, I’m dead. Two, why am I in hell I am pretty sure I was a decent human? I didn’t go to church, sure, but I had very little control over my working schedule. Three, is it supposed to be so freaking loud down here? I’m-“

Intense breathing interrupted - yes, breathing. It was the janitor, her one eye staring at you while she lifted the little radio. ”This is diiiirty” she semi-sang. A horrific giggle was lingering under her breath. You grimaced at her behaviour and dropped the cord immediately, avoiding any contact by proxy with this creature. What a creepy little -

“Did that come with you?” Charlie asked, looking confused as you answered with a nod. “Strange, usually possessions don’t follow a soul into the afterlife…” She trailed off, finger tapping her chin with a frown. Everyone turned to look at the manic janitor essentially vibrating with the radio in her hands.

“Interesting! What has inspired us all to gather this fine evening?”

”Alastor!” Charlie greeted an individual behind you. ”This might be our newest resident…she’s just arrived!” Her hands wildly gestured from you to whoever was behind you. You could see the shadow of the person on the floor, stretching into a long figure that looked vaguely familiar. You were certain your eyes were burning a hole into the carpet beneath the shadow. If the shadow was this frightening what exactly was behind you? The shadow appeared to smile wider as you stared at it.

“Hmm!” Alastor, you supposed, responded. “What an exciting new development why - Oh!” Something had caught his attention. He walked towards the janitor, and you glanced at the back of his figure as he walked past you towards the tiny creature. He was tall, very tall, and slender. There was an ominous presence around him, even the nature of his clothing was fashioned in a way that seemed off. It was unnerving. Broad shoulders tapered into a very slim waistline, his jacket flared out behind him in a style reminiscent of a different time. Head to toe red and black, which was also just…something else. But the other patrons also had an interesting approach to their wardrobes as well, save the 2 women. Maybe that was just…how it was here.

“Now where did you find this delightful little item, Nifty?” He said, his profile coming slightly into your view. Dear god, terrifying. You couldn’t even begin to describe his appearance. Chills ran down your back, and suddenly you remembered you were still in very thin pajamas.

“Eh-hehe a dirty radio sir!” She answered, thrilled with herself. “it came with our new guessst” her eye switching from the tallest, creepiest creature you had ever set your eyes upon to your gaze. You swear you could hear the bones crack in the man's neck as he fired his gaze to yours. You were trapped.

“Is that so?” He began to slowly walk towards you, the room filling with a static hum similar to what you felt in the motel room, your skin tingling as he got closer. It was getting harder to hear the others try and talk to the approaching figure, the hum was getting louder.

“And what,” he started, “are you doing with my Radio, my dear?” His eyes were radio dials at this point, sharp jagged teeth glowing alongside them as his head tilted in an inhuman manner, the cracking from before louder than before.

What? Oh for fucks sake. Fuck your backwater, bayou-residing, rude, nasty, hoarder family-

As your eyes rolled back into your head, your body went limp and you hit the foyer carpet. Hard. For the second time that night

**

Part One : Part Two : Part Three : Part Four