#Specimen Six

[raindrop-stimmies]

Specimen six, Ben the merchant stimboard!

Also I ship Ben and Bab and none of you can take this from me

🪡🪆🪡

🪆👁️🪆

🪡🪆🪡

[medi-bee]

woe dragon fortune be upon ye

[mercuryislove]

it's like I want to make a cry for help but I don't even know what help I want or need. I need to just be. not on this earth any longer

[savior-of-humanity]

[ARMED ]sender brandishes a  [ gun / knife ]  at receiver . [From Hicks to Specimen 6. Not sure if you're still taking these if not feel free to totally ignore me. Just always an icebreaker for me.]

The air is still. Tense. Almost silent, save for the background ambience of the run-down facility, and the sound of breathing. Breathing that came from an all-too familiar silhouette in front of Hicks - the form of a Xenomorph.

But this was no ordinary Xenomorph.

To any average person who had the misfortune of being familiar with the nightmarish creatures, the one before Hicks would've seemed like a seemingly average alien. But there were two details that stood out, details that set them apart from others of their own kind.

First and foremost was the number 6 imprinted directly on the front of the Xenomorph's smooth, elongated head - their face, if you will. It had obviously been caused by humans; it most likely had once been used as a test subject for some group, perhaps Weyland-Yutani, for their own purposes. The branded number glowed ever so slightly in the dim lighting; if you wanted to be philosophical about it, it was a reminder that no matter what Mankind did, they would never be able to tame the perfect organism that was the Xenomorph.

The second detail was the fact that the alien, Six, wasn't immediately trying to kill Hicks.

Oh, there were still the tell-tale signs of hostility; sinewy lips peeled back to bare human-like teeth that glinted silver in the dim lighting, strings of saliva dripping from those deadly jaws. Behind Six, their tail whipped about in a manner not unlike that of a particularly annoyed cat, flicking to and fro - the blade-like tip always pointed at Hicks, but never moving to deal a killing blow. Just like with the pistol the human had lined up with the alien's head.

It was a sign that this thing was far more intelligent than the average Xenomorph - because what alien didn't just try to kill him on sight with only a couple of feet between them? What alien recognized a situation where if either party moved to strike, there was no guarantee that they'd walk away with their life?

[fuiru]

A 44 year old man goes to a K-Pop Concert

I promised you a report on the K-pop concert that I, a 44-year-old accountant, went to a couple of weeks ago with my wife and daughter in Toronto. So here it is.

The band we saw were Ateez. They're my daughter's favourite band and my wife's second favourite. I know most of my mutuals are similarly aged like me and may not be familiar with them so let me give you a brief primer on Ateez.

Imagine the most attractive eight men you can think of, just unfathomably beautiful specimens of aesthetic perfection, and make them sing songs that somehow combine the subjects of 'dancing like nobody is watching' with 'we live in a dystopian hellscape that we must all work together to overthrow'. Give them an ongoing music video story lore that literally nobody - not even the band themselves - understand, so that online discussion of their visual motifs looks more like the fevered rantings of a conspiracy theorist, complete with speculation about alternate realities and time being a Moebius strip. There is also a giant sand timer, for some reason.

That's Ateez. That's what you need to know.

Now, K-pop concerts are very different to the gigs I've been going to for the last 28 (!) years. There's no support act, for a start. Also the band perform for like, three hours, with breaks for costume changes and interpretive dance. Furthermore, hanging above everything is the constant looming threat of mandatory military service.

So this being my first such concert, I wasn't sure what to expect. What happened was difficult to explain, but I will try as I am already six paragraphs into this write-up and I'm too invested to stop now. Here goes:

In his Wicked + Divine comics series, Kieron Gillen places modern pop icons as deities, feeding upon and gaining strength from the worship of their fans at the altar of musical performance. I thought I understood that metaphor. I thought I understood it AS a metaphor. I was wrong, because that night Ateez WERE Gods with a capital G and we were their worshippers, a crowd emanating adoration (in the religious and non-religious senses), bestowing strength upon them and gaining their strength in return.

If that sounds weird, it probably is. But as pointed out above, I have lived over four decades and never yet experienced anything like the overwhelming passion of that crowd, the utter abandon with which they conveyed their love for the band.

"But Fuiru, what of the actual music?" you ask. Thinking back, there was a moment in one of their songs - I can't remember which - where I watched the stage, and the people around me, taking it in, and I thought, "Man, I just love Music". But that doesn't answer your question, sorry.

Ateez's music is bloody great. As a tiresome indie/rock/metal kid I'm resisting the urge to add the usual tiresome indie/rock/metal caveat of "...for pop music" because honestly that does it a disservice. They have some genuinely amazing songs. Halazia is an absolute fucking masterpiece that descends into furious hardcore breakbeat. Bouncy is a big, brash racket that somehow is also a perfect pop song. Utopia, Wonderland, and Guerrilla are similarly superb. The obligatory boy band slow number is represented by Dancing Like Butterfly Wings which will make you cry because you will forever associate it with your twelve year old daughter being pointed to and waved at by her favourite Ateez member (Seonghwa) because of her Seonghwa-branded lightstick.

That might just be me, though.

So in summary: being a 44 year old dad at his first K-pop concert rules and you should endeavour to partake in the experience if the opportunity arises.

Finally, for any Atiny reading this: my bias would be San or Seonghwa but my wife and daughter said they were taken so it’s Mingi. My concert outfit (designed and created by my offspring) reflects this.

[orionsangel86]

I watched X-Men 2000 tonight. Yup the Deadpool and Wolverine brain worms got me - at least for a little while - so I figured I'd rewatch the old movies that I havent seen in over a decade and have basically forgotten entirely at this point.

You know what really stunned me? Even more than the slow pace, serious tone, actual dedication to telling a coherent and interesting story with layers of meaning and social commentary attached to it, as well as a sincerity that's been missing from most superhero films since the MCU was born (thanks Josh Whedon).

Nope, what shocked me most was this:

This is a perfect specimen of a man. Look at him. He's gorgeous. But look at his chest? His arms? He's muscular, he's pretty well toned, he's hairy. He's definitely got a six pack - but it's nicely covered by a healthy layer of fat. His skin is plump, he has a bit of squish to him. He'd probably be great to hug (Jean Grey certainly gives him a good squeeze lol).

When he sits down he looks like his stomach will roll just nicely. Like a stomach should.

I know my point here is obvious. It's just that scrolling the Deadpool and Wolvering tag is basically 50% "oh they definitely fucked in the Honda Odyssey" (yes lol) and the other 50% is just horny posting over Wolverine's topless scene like the entire site suddenly adopted Deadpools horny brain.

I gotta give props to Hugh Jackman for his dedication to turn himself into an actual comic book character - because that's what this new movie does. It gives us a comic accurate Wolverine in practically every way (except for his height lol) the suit is amazing, the cowl was a joy to see brought into live action. The body too though was straight out of a comic book artists male power fantasy.

What I wanted to emphasise was that this:

Is extremely tough on the human body. What I wanna know is how long he starved and dehydrated himself for before filming this scene? How long before they shot this did he last drink some water? Because damn that must have been tough. The oil and the lighting probably help further emphasise the muscle, vein, and sinew definition. It's probably similar to how body builders prepare before a show.

Nothing about body building is healthy though. So in the coming weeks as the whole entertainment industry rides on the coat tales of this movies success, and everyone goes crazy over Hugh Jackmans physique, please don't feel pressured into thinking that his 2024 physique in the movie is remotely realistic - or realistically attractive. Like I get the fantasy sure, but come on. I'd personally rather lie on a cushioned bed than a concrete floor.

Deadpool may disagree with me, but he's a masochist lol.

Oh and whilst I stand by the shade I threw at the MCU above, I think Wolverine's different physiques in the movies is a good standard of comparison for how much superhero movies have changed. Because when superhero comics first started getting adapted I think a lot of the choices made were about how to bring them to live action realistically and believably and the attitude was to try not to make them look ridiculous. The first X-Men movies definitely do this.

It was about bringing the comics to life in a way that fit in our world. But over the years, as audiences got more and more used to comic book movies the movies became more and more like comic books and less like a realistic adaptation of a comic book. Does that make sense? So as the movies attempted to bring the comics to life in a way that was less realistic and more comic accurate, the demands on the actors to sculpt their physiques to meet the standards of comic book art became normalised.

I think Deadpool and Wolverine is the MOST comic book accurate of all superhero movies made in the past 2 decades. Half the time the images from the movie look like they could be literally pulled from the pages of the comic books. The story is convoluted and stupid, the plot is barely there and is full of gaping plot holes and elements that don't fit any past stories. The action is ridiculous, extremely fast paced, gratuitous, and violent to a hilarious level. But it's so entertaining, joyful, exciting, and laugh out loud hilarious throughout.

It reminded me a LOT of my attempts at reading through the Deadpool comics (I've read a lot of them but no where near all of them).

To sum up this rambling message with multiple points, I'll say that Deadpool and Wolverine is a really fun movie that I thoroughly enjoyed, but make no mistake there is nothing real in it at all. It is almost literally a comic on screen. Don't expect anything more than that and you'll enjoy the experience.

[extinctionstories]

It was never a common species, the blue-grey warbler that locals called the jack pine bird. A belated discovery among American birds, it was undescribed by science until the mid 19th century—and then, known only on the basis of a single specimen. The bird's wintering grounds in the Caribbean would eventually fulfill the demands of collectors and museums, but the intricacies of its lifecycle remained a mystery for decades, the first nest only found in 1903. As the already-rare bird became rarer, people could only guess at why. There were just so few birds to look for, their breeding habitat inscrutable amidst the dense, impassable woodland of their Midwestern home. The one clue was the most apparent thing about the bird: its affinity with the jack pine (Pinus banksiana).

Over time, more nests were found—not in the eponymous trees, as might be expected for a songbird, but on the ground at their feet. Data points converged, leading to the realization that not only did the bird nest almost exclusively in proximity to the scrubby pines, but only utilized trees that fell within a specific range: new growth, between five and fifteen feet tall, with branches that swept shelteringly close to the ground. Subsequently, it would be noticed that the greatest volume of specimen collection for the bird had corresponded with years in which historically significant wildfires had impacted the Midwest—fires that, for decades afterwards, had been staunchly suppressed. The pieces fell into place, like jack pine seeds, whose cones open only under the heat of a blaze.

With the bird's total population having dwindled to the low hundreds, a program of prescribed burns, clearcutting, and replanting was instituted, with many acres of land purchased and devoted to the preservation and maintenance of suitable breeding habitat. Concurrently, efforts were made to protect the vulnerable bird against brood parasitism by the brown-headed cowbird.

When the first federal list of protected species was put forward in 1966, the name of the small grey warbler was inscribed beside birds such as the Kauai ʻōʻō and the Dusky Seaside Sparrow.

The ʻōʻō, last of the genus Moho, would be removed from the list in 2023 due to extinction, after thirty-six years without a sighting.

The endling Dusky Seaside Sparrow, a male named Orange Band, would die of old age in captivity in 1987, with his species being delisted three years later.

in 2019, fifty-two years after the creation of the Endangered Species Protection Act, the name of Kirtland's warbler, too, was removed from the list: it had been determined that, with a population now numbering nearly 5000, the jack pine bird could be considered safely stable.

Conservationists continue to work to preserve the breeding habitat of Kirtland's Warbler in the midwestern US, as well as its winter roosts in the Bahamas and neighboring islands (though selective logging has replaced actual burning in recent years, due to the dangers posed by unpredictable fires). It's the kind of effort that it takes to undo the damage we've caused to the planet and its creatures—the kind of hope that we need, to not give up on them, or on ourselves.

-

The title of this piece is Prescribed Burn (Kirtland's Warbler). It is traditional gouache on 18x24" watercolor paper, and is part of my series Conservation Pieces, which focuses on efforts made to save critically endangered birds from extinction.

[rememberwren]

/•Harmless Fun•\

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

Exactly what it says on the tin. Established ghoap, bringing in fem!reader roommate. Poor writing. Reader has had any identifying features removed, but she owns a Ford Fiesta. Take that as you will. Just testing to see if there is interest in a lighthearted fun sexy fic like this. 🩶

*

“Remember. You’re desperate,” you muttered to yourself looking at your reflection in the rearview mirror of your tiny Ford Fiesta. The ink might as well still be fresh on the ad your roommate printed off for you (the perfect symbol of her guilt for moving back in with her boyfriend and forcing you to find a new apartment and new roommates in the first place).

The ad reads as thus: WANTED: ANY GENDER WELCOME to fill the second bedroom in a 2b/2ba 1290sq ft apartment. DOWNTOWN. In-building laundry. Utilities and rent split EVENLY amongst 3. NO FASCISTS, NO HOMOPHOBES.

It was the most promising ad you had seen after days of scouring the internet in your every spare moment (usually reserved for those moments when you were on break during shifts, feet and back aching, hating your life OR at the end of a long day when the post-sunset depression hit with all the force of a typhoon). Any two people who were against fascism and homophobia were alright in your book. As for the finer details—well. You were desperate. You were going to have to overlook any skeletons in their closets, as long as those skeletons weren’t literal.

I’m texting about the apartment downtown. Is this the right number?

Yeah, you’ve got it. Nice to text ya. You’re interested?

Very. Is there somewhere we could meet to discuss the details?

We don’t mind showing the apartment. Got a few others coming to see it as well. You cursed up a storm reading over that particular text, so much so that your roommate’s boyfriend knocked angrily on the thin walls separating your bedrooms. Scowling, you knocked back—a little too angry to be mistaken for conciliatory. You blamed that bastard for your troubles in the first place.

I’ll see it ASAP, if that’s okay.

Go-getter. How soon can you be here?

Which is how you found yourself in the parking lot of the building, hastily combing hairs back into place, hoping for some semblance of presentability. If only there was a way to hide the desperation in your eyes…

The apartment complex itself is everything you could have hoped for. It even has an indoor pool, which is a step up from the facilities offered at your own apartment. The rent is a little higher than what you were pulling at your old place, but you think you can manage it if you cut back on excess frivolities. And any joy. (Joy costs)

There’s a doorman even—an honest to god doorman! He instructs you on the way to the elevators, and you take them up to the top floor, feeling your ears pop from the change in altitude. By the time you’re standing in front of their door, your knees are knocking together, terrified of who you might be meeting. Even more terrified that they might not like you, that they might say no—

—and the door opens, shattering any expectation you have. The man standing there is undoubtedly, ungodly, unseemly, obscenely hot. His head nearly brushes the frame of the door, blond hair wild and mussed, like he’s just had the fuck of his life. He’s thick, too, muscles on muscles along his corded forearms, bared by the dark tee that stretches across his chest.

He is pale and dark eyed and frowning down at you so sternly that you are convinced you have knocked on the wrong door. God help you. It’s all an honest mistake—but then his gravelly, softly-accented voice says: “You’re here about the apartment?”

Your heart nearly stops. This is the person who owns the apartment? How could you be expected to live alongside this behemoth? Just as you are about to tuck tail and run, a hand grips the man’s shoulder and gently tugs him aside and another specimen—two of them! two!—appears. This one has his hair cropped in a Mohawk, his eyes a deep drown-worthy blue. A few inches shorter, he is just as impressive shape. He beams at you.

“Well!” he says, leaning on the door frame in a way that fetchingly shows off the cut muscles of his arm and chest. His voice is accented too, something rougher, different than the taller man’s. “You aren’t what I was expecting. Unless yer just a wee fascist.”

You blink. You had been thinking the very same. Your hackles rise on instinct, bristling in preemptive outrage. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’ve had a type answering the ad,” the other man says dryly. “Johnny doesn’t mean nothing. Come in—if you’re still interested in the apartment.”

It crosses your mind that this is perhaps foolish: entering an apartment of strange men, regardless of how you had left the address with your roommate and specified a time to check in with her. But you’re desperate. So you slip in after them, Johnny making ample room for you to move past him in the doorway.

When you do, you smell his shower gel, something woodsy. You say a prayer that you aren’t drooling.

Your eyes roam over the open-concept apartment. The living room and kitchen are combined, larger than you might have imagined. It is homier, too, for a place where two men live: there are pictures along the walls, potted plants in the corners and on the desk, and an easel overlooking the balcony in the corner, an oil half-rendering of the view outside.

It is tidy. It smells nice. It is owned by two of the hottest men you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing.

“I want it,” you blurt out.

Johnny laughs. “Sure ya do. Let us show you everything and then we’ll talk.”

You barely manage to contain your impatience as they lead you room to room. The guest room is empty, except for some boxes that Johnny hastily promises can be moved. The closets have no skeletons (you check). You would have your own bathroom. The more you see, the more convinced you are that this would be an ideal apartment regardless of who was offering it to you, but the frequent banter between the two men (Johnny and Simon you find out) is so entertaining and inviting that it’s hard not to feel like they want you—to be their third. Roommate that is.

After every nook and cranny of the apartment has been seen, they seat themselves on the loveseat and you on the adjacent armchair, your fingers interlaced like a businesswoman about to make the deal of her lifetime.

“I still want the room,” you admit. Johnny smiles, an expression that you sense comes easily to his face. His smile falls a little when you continue: “I just have one question. Why the vacancy?”

Simon takes a measured breath. The silence grows thick as they share a glance, communicating silently in a way that only two who have known each other—who have been through things with each other—can. At length, he says: “We’re ex-military. Disabled.”

That explained the cane Johnny had been using to move around the apartment.

“The benefits were excellent until recently, when we saw a generous…cut to our monthly pay.”

You frown. “That’s terrible. Why would they do that?”

Johnny gives a breathless little laugh. His hand comes down slowly to rest on Simon’s knee. You stare, unsure what you are seeing. “Well, it happens…when you get married.”

-

“That explains a lot,” your roommate says when you spill every little detail after driving home. By the time you arrive, her insufferable boyfriend is gone for the night (thank God) so it is just the two of you, like the good old days. “Namely why two men in a two bedroom apartment are looking for a roommate.”

“I didn’t even think of it,” you groan, palming at your eyes. “Am I homophobic?”

“No, just desperate and wishful,” she teases. She has no idea how accurate she is. It’s been years—literal years since you’ve been with anyone of substance. In the meantime, you’d been happy to settle for your fingers and your toys, but there was the occasional itch that only a cock could scratch in you. Figuratively. “This is a good thing though. The last thing you need is getting tangled up with your new roommates. That’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Instead I’ll be in the middle of their marital bliss. Or lack of, depending on the day,” you suggest dryly. But you aren’t even sure how much you believe your own words. Simon and Johnny said they had been together for nearly ten years, and more than their words, you had seen them with your own eyes—the way they gravitated to each other, the way their eyes were never far from each other. The way they roasted each other so good-naturedly. They seemed like a couple who were past their seven year itch, who had grown older and comfortable with each other. They seemed like they had their shit together.

Did it make you terrible that you still wanted to be pinned between them like a bug in a science project?

“Then tell them no,” she says, sitting on the edge of your bed. You see the guilt in her eyes, and it makes you just a little vindicated. Which makes you feel terrible. “You’ll find something. I promise. You could always stay with us until you do—“

“God no. No offense.”

“None taken. I think.”

You sigh. You nudge her with your foot. “Alright, out, I need to think.”

But it takes such little thought when Johnny (affectionately added to your phone) messages not ten minutes later.

I don’t want to rush ya, but another person asked to see the apartment. Should I show them?

No way, you text. That room is mine.

[fjordfolk]

Utilization: By his anatomical peculiarities this dog is predestinated to puffin-hunting on the steep rocks around the fjords and along the shore.

The standard:

Neck: Clean-cut, of medium length, quite strong with a relatively well furnished collar.

Compendium comment:

The head is carried relatively low. The two last vertebrae (atlas/apsis) are shaped so that the dog can bend backwards so that the head touches the back. To do so is vital when turning in the narrow burrows. NB! This should NEVER be demonstrated the ring!

The standard:

Ears: Triangular ears of medium size, broad at the base, carried erect and very mobile. The cartilage of the ear lobe has the faculty of being able to retract itself so that the ear folds itself and flops in a specific manner, either backwards or in right angle upwards, so as to close the auditory passage.

Compendium addition:

The ears of the Lundehund have a unique muscle that enables them to fold and close the ears when entering the burrows, thus protecting them against dirt and moisture. The turning and folding of the ears probably also is help in locating the birds.

The standard:

Forelimbs: Moderately angulated. Forearm: Straight.

Forefeet: Oval shaped, turning slightly outwards, with at least six toes of which five must rest on the ground. Eight pads on each foot. The two inner toes, formed respectively by 3 and 2 phalanges and endowed with a ligamentary and muscular system, make the foot look solid.

Compendium addition:

Very flexible and elastic shoulder muscles. The Lundehund has joints that allow the forelimbs to extend at nearly 90 degrees from the body, but this must NEVER be demonstrated in the ring! The forefeet turn slightly outwards to give room for the extra toes.

The Norwegian Lundehund is a polydactyl. Instead of the normal 4 digits, the Lundehund normally has 6 digits, all fully formed, jointed and muscled, with tendons going up the inside of the leg, partly responsible for its wide front gait. Some specimen may have more, others less than 6 digits per foot, but less than 6 on front feet should lead to downgrading. The extra toes help the dog climbing up and down crevices in screes and cliffs.

The standard:

Hindfeet : Oval shaped, turned slightly outwards, with at least six toes - four of which must rest on the ground. Seven pads on each foot, the one in the middle, the most important one by its size, being attached to the inner pads corresponding to the two inner toes. When the dog is standing up on a flat surface, the weight of the body must be evenly distributed on the pads.

Compendium comment:

More than 6 digits is not a fault. 5 digits are acceptable on the hind feet. The extra toes on the hind feet are normally less developed than those on the forelegs and variations from the ideal, both regarding number and placement, should not be penalized.

The standard:

Gait/Movement: Light and elastic. An external rotary action of the forelegs and somewhat close action behind is characteristic of the breed.

Compendium comment:

In judging the movements of the Lundehund, one must consider that this dog is built to climb efficiently up and down steep cliffs and screes. The extra pads on both fore- and hind paws must then touch the surface to aid the dog in climbing. The extra toes help getting a grip, both in ascent and descent. The wide front with extra flexibility enables climbing safely up and down crevices, as the forelegs can grip at a 90 degrees angle to the body. On flat surfaces, the Lundehund will show typical rotating front movements, due to tendons and muscles from the extra digits on the inside of the legs. Hind movements are narrow.

[pattxnsanders]

Logan looked up as he heard the bell, momentarily taking a break from his studies. He expected his new research subject to arrive today, and it seemed like it was just delivered. He couldn't wait to examine the six legged toad. Not that new creatures was uncommon to the lab, as the scientist had traveled the galaxy cataloging hundreds of life forms. However when he opened the door he was taken by surprise at the eyes staring back at him.

{Moralpuppylover2}

There, sitting in the crate with some basic confinement and sedation, is a creature that looks eerily similar to the human subject Roman has been working with. However, it's much smaller, with larger eye sockets and (judging by the weaker grasp on the cuffs) much lower muscle strength.

A note is left on the container, stating that the toad study was put on hold as they had recently discovered this being that seemed to cohabitate with human specimens despite being weaker and easier to capture. Thus, the Council tasked Logan's academy with research to see if these were more viable subjects to collect from Earth, since humans tended to be so violent and infamously hard to contain.

[todropscience]

THREE NEW SHARK SPECIES THIS WEEK!

The second week of July 2023 something extraordinarily beautiful happened, the findings of 3 new species of sharks for were announced

A new angel sharks species was identified, from the western Indian Ocean on the Mascarene Plateau and off southwestern India in 100–500 m depths, the Lea’s angel shark Squatina leae, was recognized to be different genetically and morphologically distinct from its congeneric species Squatina africanae, following unique morphological features.  This species was first detected in 1988 after finding  three unusual, small sharks, but till today was completely understood. The angel shark is named after one of the author’s fiancee’s late sister, Lea-Marie Cordt.

-  Squatina leae, adult male, in dorsolateral.

Angel sharks are “flatter sharks”, possesing distinctly broad, dorsoventrally flattened bodies, a short snout with large mouth and nostrils, eyes on top of the head close to the large spiracles, very large pectoral fins, and a lateral caudal keel. They've evolved to be ambush predators, they lie in wait for prey to pass closely overhead before attacking.

Reference (Open Access):  Weigmann et al., 2023. Revision of the Western Indian Ocean Angel Sharks, Genus Squatina (Squatiniformes, Squatinidae), with Description of a New Species and Redescription of the African Angel Shark Squatina africana Regan, 1908. Biology 

From North Australia, another species of hornshark is described based on six whole specimens and a single egg case. The painted hornshark Heterodontus marshallae was previously considered to be the same with the zebra bullhead shark another well know bullhead shark from the central Indo-Pacific from Japan  to Australia, but genetic and morphological analyses indicated the sharks were different, but looking alike. The painted hornshark is endemic to northwestern Australia and occurs in deeper waters, at 125–229 m below surface.

-  Lateral view of two mature female painted hornshark Heterodontus marshallae showing small differences between individuals

The painted hornsharks is named in honour of Dr. Lindsay Marshall www.stickfigurefish.com.au a scientific illustrator and elasmobranch scientist who expertly painted all the sharks and rays of the world for the Chondrichthyan Tree of Life Project.

Reference (Open Access): White et al., 2023 Species in Disguise: A New Species of Hornshark from Northern Australia (Heterodontiformes: Heterodontidae). Diversity.

And from an unidentified shark egg collected from the deep waters of northwestern Australia, in 2011 recently helped researchers identify a new species of deep water cat shark. Called ridged-egg catshark Apristurus ovicorrugatus after its eggs, it was collected in the earlys 90 but remained unknown to date. This sharks presents white eyes, and is small in size, reaching less than a half meter in length. .

- Lateral view of female Apristurus ovicorrugatus before preserved. Photo by  CSIRO. 

Egg cases belonging to this species had been documented as early as the 1980s, but could not be matched to any species of Australian shark until recently scientists examined a shark specimen of previously uncertain identity in the CSIRO collection.

 -egg cases of Apristurus ovicorrugatus. Scale bar is 10 mm

Reference (Open Access) White,et al., 2023 What came first, the shark or the egg? Discovery of a new species of deepwater shark by investigation of egg case morphology. Journal of Fish Biology.

[buckets-and-trees]

Obsidian Stain and Sin

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark Ari Levinson x Female!Reader, soft!dark Curtis Everett x Female!Reader, Ari x Reader x Curtis Word Count: 8.1k Summary: You've thought of getting your first tattoo for quite a while. When you walk into Obsidian Stain Studio, you experience services beyond anything you bargained for.

Content/Warnings: tattooing/needles, DUBIOUS CONSENT, explicit smut, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, kissing, anal play/rimming (female receiving), eating it from behind, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, praise kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, size kink, manhandling, fade to black/abrupt ending

Author Notes: I've had this idea all summer. I've been eager to write it, but literally the muse only kept teasing me with it until literally about six hours ago when she said, WE'RE DOING THIS, AND WE'RE DOING THIS NOW, so it's almost late/maybe it's still you're birthday week for a hot minute in some time zone, but I'm slipping this to you @stargazingfangirl18 for your Birthday Bonenanza! Literally, when I tell you that when you originally tagged me in the announcement, and I read over the myriad of prompts, I thought, "Oh, wow, this is so tattoo Curtis and Ari coded, it HAS TO happen for Siri's birthday..." that's really how my brain thought it was finally going to get the jump on working on this. But then no. Then that other Steve story happened, and I was stoked about that. Then the new chapter for Nomad Steve, and I thought, ah well, still fun stuff, maybe someday this, and then AT THE LAST MOMENT, Muse pulled a plot twist. So here's some ruinous hoe shit. Multiple dialogue prompts from the challenge are used here, and you'll find them in bold.

A/N 2: Shout out to @vonalyn for a few convos hashing out some of this concept!

You are surprised by the tinkling of a classic bell hanging over the door that rings pleasantly as you enter the tattoo parlor.

A man behind the reception desk immediately looks up to greet you. He doesn’t shoot you a phony, business-y smile, but his demeanor is still warm and approachable. “Welcome,” he greets you. “Walk-in or appointment?” he asks.

“Um, walk-in,” you manage. In a black t-shirt with shoulders that are nearly bursting through the fabric, lush hair and beard, and striking blue eyes, he’s more than an impressive specimen. “If you’ve got an opening?” you quickly add.

“Sure, we can take you,” he says. His gaze flicks to a scheduling book in front of him on the counter. “A couple of the boys are on break or about to finish up with other clients. Your first time here, yes?”

You nod. “First tattoo ever.”

“Oh,” he says, and his eyes brighten. “Even better. Let’s get you booked in.”

He takes your name, email, and phone number to set up a profile for you in their system. There are some electronic consent forms that he takes you through and has you agree to and sign on an iPad, and then he takes asks a few questions about what you’re interested in.

“Based off what you have in mind, Curtis might be the best artist, but he won’t be finished for maybe an hour.”

“Ah,” you look at your watch. It was a bit of an impromptu idea for you to drop in to get the tattoo this afternoon, and you had time, but you had probably been foolish thinking a walk-in was any sort of good idea.

“But,” he interjects, “I’ve got two other guys who are excellent, and either one of them should be ready to take you pretty soon. Take a seat just over there, and I’ll go check in with them and get a call on time for you. I’ll also grab you a drink. Pick your poison - we’ve got water or Coke products.”

You give him your preference, and he nods and smiles.

“Right then, sit tight, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He disappears around the corner, and you do as you’ve been told and take a seat on one of the black leather couches in the lobby.

Now you have time to really take in your surroundings. The walls are black with white moldings at the floor and ceiling, and the hardwood floors are a warm walnut. Everything is dark but clean. Classic but clearly in line with current trends. On the wall behind the desk, there’s a gorgeous, white-lettered feature with shop name - Obsidian Stain Studio - that’s sleek and impressive. On the wall next to you, there are ten framed pieces of art on the wall in a mix of sizes, some of them hand-drawn artwork, and the rest photos of finished tattoos on skin.

You’re nervous but determined not to be, so you cross your legs and try to keep your anxious energy limited to just running your fingers back and forth over the edge of your phone. Looking at the different designs on the wall does serve to capture your attention, though, and quell your nerves slightly.

The man working reception returns and hands you the drink. “We should have you back there in a chair in ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Great,” you respond, and the nerves kick up a notch, but it’s with a surge of excitement.

This is happening.

You take a sip of your drink, grateful for something to occupy your hands. The cool liquid helps soothe your nerves a bit. As you wait, you observe a few other clients entering and leaving the shop checking in or paying as they leave. Some sport fresh bandages, while others are clearly here for consultations, clutching sketches or reference photos.

The buzzing of tattoo machines creates a constant backdrop of sound, occasionally punctuated by muffled laughter or conversation from the back rooms. The atmosphere is more relaxed than you expected, nineties music underscoring it all.

As you wait, a couple emerges from behind the partition separating the lobby from the work area. They're both grinning, the woman cradling her forearm gently. Her companion is animatedly discussing something with her, gesturing excitedly. You catch a glimpse of fresh ink on her skin as they pass – a vibrant butterfly with intricate, colorful wings.

The sight makes your heart race a little faster. Soon, that'll be you walking out with fresh art on your body. The thought is both thrilling and slightly terrifying.

But you won’t be walking out with a friend or partner.

Your gaze wanders back to the artwork on the walls. One piece in particular catches your eye – an intricate mandala design with flowing lines and delicate detail. You find yourself drawn to its symmetry and complexity.

"Which one’s got your attention?" a voice asks, startling you from your reverie. You look up to see someone you can only describe as a lion of a man standing before you. All of his attention is focused on you like you’re his next prey. He towers over you with a mane of golden brown hair that’s grown out to tuck nicely behind his ears and curls out at his neck. He’s got a broad chest and shoulders covered in a denim shirt with a few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. You can see peeks of ink mingled with some chest hair as well as intricate designs over his forearms. His dark blue eyes are zeroed in on you in a way that both unsettles and steadies you at the same time.

You point at the mandala, and the man smiles. “That’s one of Steve’s. He says you’re here for your first tattoo.”

“He… wait, is that Steve?” You nod and glance over at the man at the front desk who’s now consulting with an older man and showing him a few designs.

“Yep, he owns the place and loves to work the front almost as much as the back with the rest of us. I’m Ari, by the way.” He puts his hand out, inviting you to shake hands.

You push up from the couch, stand, and offer your hand for the shake. It’s engulfed easily by his big, warm, calloused hand.

“I’m the one who’s going to make your first time special.”

Your heart stutters and your face flushes. He didn’t just… your mind races. Did he?

He chuckles and drops your hand quickly. “Follow me,” he says and turns and begins striding into the back.

You fall into step behind Ari, your eyes inevitably drawn to his broad shoulders and the confident swagger in his step. The back area is an open space divided into several stations with partial walls, each with its own tattoo chair and equipment, creating semi-private booths. Ari leads you to one in the back corner.

"Have a seat," he says, gesturing to the chair.

You perch on the edge, your nerves returning full force. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and ink.

He pulls up a rolling stool and sits, leaning in close. "So, tell me about this tattoo you want."

You explain your idea - a simple constellation of stars for your zodiac sign - watching as his blue eyes light up with interest. He nods along, occasionally asking questions or offering suggestions. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you find yourself relaxing despite the butterflies in your stomach.

"Alright, I think I know what you're after," Ari says, reaching for a sketchpad. "Let me rough out a design for you."

You watch, mesmerized, as Ari's hand moves swiftly across the paper. His brow furrows in concentration, and you find yourself studying the angles of his face, the way his beard accentuates his strong jaw. Within minutes, he presents you with a design that takes your breath away.

"What do you think?" he asks, a hint of pride in his voice.

The constellation is there, just as you imagined, but Ari has added subtle details that elevate it beyond your expectations. Delicate lines connect the stars, and a hint of shadowing gives the piece depth and movement.

"It's perfect," you breathe, unable to take your eyes off the sketch.

Ari grins, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Great. Now, let's talk placement."

You indicate the spot you've chosen - your inner wrist. Ari nods approvingly. "Good choice. Nice and visible, but easy to cover if needed. Mind if I take a look?"

You extend your arm, and Ari gently takes your wrist in his large hands. His touch is surprisingly soft as he examines the area, his fingers tracing the spot where your tattoo will soon be. You can't help but notice the contrast between his rough, inked skin and your own unmarked flesh.

"Nice canvas," he murmurs, more to himself than to you. "Skin's good here. This'll work well." He looks up, catching your eye. "Ready to get started?"

You nod, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in your chest.

“You’re a sweet, innocent thing, aren’t you?”

You open your mouth but shut it again, unsure how to respond, and he brushes his thumb over the pulse on your inner wrist, and you think you see his eyes darken.

He releases your wrist and turns to prepare his equipment. You’re frozen in place, but luckily that’s fine as it’s not necessary for you to move. You watch as he efficiently sets up his station, laying out ink caps, adjusting his machine, and pulling on a fresh pair of black latex gloves. The buzz of the tattoo machine as he tests it sends a jolt of excitement and nervousness through you.

"Alright, I'm going to clean the area now," he says, swabbing your wrist.

His touch is clinical now, professional, as he prepares your skin. The cool antiseptic makes you shiver slightly.

"Cold?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"A little," you admit.

"Don't worry, I’ll have you warm soon enough," he says with a wink that makes your cheeks flush.

Ari places the stencil on your wrist, pressing it gently to transfer the design. When he peels it away, you see the outline of your constellation on your skin for the first time. It sends a thrill through you - this is really happening.

"Make sure you’re happy with the placement before we start," he instructs. "This is your last chance to change your mind."

You focus to examine the design on your skin more closely, heart racing. It looks even better than you imagined.

"It's perfect," you say, unable to keep the excitement from your voice.

Ari grins. "Alright then, let's make it permanent. You ready?"

You nod, settling back into the chair and extending your arm.

Ari takes your arm gently, positioning it just so on the armrest. "Now, I need you to stay as still as possible," he says, his voice low and soothing. "It's going to hurt a bit, especially at first. But I promise, I'll be as gentle as I can."

The buzz of the machine fills your ears as Ari brings the needle to your skin. You hold your breath, bracing for the pain.

The first touch of the needle is a sharp, burning sensation that makes you wince. Ari pauses, his eyes flicking to your face. "You okay?"

You nod, determined. "I'm fine. Keep going."

“Move an inch, and you’ll be sorry.”

You open your mouth wordlessly again, and he laughs.

“Only joking. I know you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You bite your lip and nod, something fluttering in your stomach, mixing wickedly with your nerves and the uncertainty around this man who skirts between being casual, soothing your nerves, concentration on his craft, and making these comments that insinuate and evoke wholly inappropriate thoughts.

He smiles, then concentrates back on your wrist and resumes his work. Gradually, the initial shock of pain fades into a more manageable discomfort. You find yourself relaxing, mesmerized by the steady movement of Ari's hand and the way the muscles in his biceps move and flex.

As Ari continues, your eyes shift to his face. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his blue eyes focused intently on your skin. There's something mesmerizing about watching him work, seeing the care and precision he puts into every line. The buzz of the machine becomes almost soothing, a constant backdrop to the occasional murmur of voices from other stations.

"So," Ari says after a while, breaking the silence without looking up from his work, "what made you decide to get your first tattoo today?"

You hesitate, unsure how much to share. "It's… kind of a long story."

Ari glances up, a small smile playing on his lips. "We've got time. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you."

You take a deep breath, wincing slightly as the needle hits a sensitive spot. "I've been thinking about it for a while. But today… today felt like it was finally the day to take the leap."

"Spontaneous decision, huh? Those can be the best kind."

You nod, feeling the heat creep up your neck. "I guess I just wanted to do something for myself. Something permanent.”

Ari nods thoughtfully, his eyes still focused on your wrist. "Sometimes we need a physical reminder of the changes we're making inside," he says softly. "Something to look at and think, 'Yeah, I did that. I made that choice.'"

His words resonate with you, and you find yourself relaxing further. The pain has faded to a dull, almost pleasant sensation.

"So, what's your story?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you. "How did you get into tattooing?"

Ari chuckles, pausing to wipe away excess ink. "Now that's definitely a long story. But the short version? I was a troubled kid, got into some bad stuff. Tattooing saved me, gave me a purpose."

He glances up, meeting your eyes. "There's something powerful about creating permanent art on someone's body.”

The words send another thrill through your body and you nod, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens at his intense gaze. "I can see that," you manage to say.

Ari returns his attention to your wrist, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's intimate, you know? Creating something that becomes a part of someone forever."

The word 'intimate' hangs in the air between you, charged with unspoken tension. You're acutely aware of the warmth of his hand on your skin, the gentle pressure as he works.

“You’re the one Steve says I nearly got to mark for the first time,” a new voice startles you, and you jump slightly in your chair.

Ari tsks, but his left hand had been holding your arm down firmly.

The other man chuckles. “Sorry, sugar.”

He steps closer, coming into Ari’s booth. He looks to be slightly taller than Ari, and a shade leaner, but he’s still built with more muscles than the common man. His hair is dark, shorn close to his head, and a dark beard covers his angular jaw. Ice blue eyes pierce into you, and you fight hard to suppress an actual shiver running down your spine.

"Curtis," Ari says without looking up, his tone a mix of amusement and mild irritation. "Didn't anyone teach you it's rude to interrupt?"

Curtis leans against the partition, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement draws your attention to the intricate tattoos covering his forearms. He’s got more ink than Ari.

"Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Steve said we had a noteworthy first-timer."

You feel your face flush, unsure whether to be flattered or embarrassed. Curtis's gaze is intense, almost predatory, as he looks you over.

"Well, now you've seen," Ari says, his voice tight. "Don't you have your own client to attend to?"

Curtis huffs. "Just finished up. Thought I'd come say hello." He turns his attention back to you. "How're you holding up, sweetheart? Ari treating you right?"

You nod, finding your voice. "He's been great," you manage to say, your voice a bit shaky. "It doesn't hurt as much as I expected."

Curtis grins, a glint in his eye. "Oh, Ari knows how to make it feel good, doesn't he?"

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks at the innuendo. Ari's hand tightens slightly on your wrist, and you see his jaw clench.

"Curtis," Ari says, his tone a clear warning.

Curtis holds up his hands. "Alright, alright. I can take a hint." He fixes his gaze once again on your face. "Maybe next time you'll let me be the one to mark you up. Lot more skin still to explore."

With that, he stalks away, leaving a charged atmosphere in his wake. You can feel the tension radiating off Ari as he resumes his work on your tattoo, his jaw clenched.

“Sorry about that,” Ari says after a moment, his voice low. "Curtis can be… intense."

You nod, still feeling flustered from the encounter. "It's okay," you manage to say, trying to calm your racing heart.

Ari looks up at you, his blue eyes searching your face. "You alright? Need a break?"

You shake your head. "No, I'm fine. Let's keep going."

He nods, returning his attention to your wrist. The buzz of the machine fills the silence between you once more. You try to focus on the sensation, the slight sting as the needle moves across your skin, rather than the lingering tension in the air.

After a few minutes, Ari speaks again. "You know, you don't have to let anyone pressure you into anything you're not comfortable with. Not here, not anywhere."

His words surprise you, and you meet his gaze. There's a protective glint in his eye, but he quickly returns his attention to your wrist. Ari's movements become more deliberate, almost possessive, as he continues working on your tattoo. The tension in the air is palpable, and you find yourself hyper-aware of every point of contact between your skin and his.

"Almost done," he murmurs after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all. "Just a few more touches."

You watch as he adds the final details, marveling at how the constellation seems to come to life on your skin. When he finally sits back, setting down the machine, you can't help but gasp.

"It's beautiful," you breathe.

Ari's eyes meet yours, a mixture of pride and something deeper in his gaze. “It suits you perfectly."

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words. Ari gently wipes away the last traces of excess ink, revealing the full beauty of your new tattoo. The stars seem to shimmer on your skin, the delicate lines connecting them creating a sense of movement and depth.

"Now, let's get this wrapped up and I'll go over the aftercare instructions with you," Ari says, reaching for a roll of clear film.

As he carefully covers your new tattoo, his fingers brush against your skin, sending little sparks of electricity through you. You can't help but notice how his large hands handle your wrist with such care and precision.

"There," he says, smoothing down the edges of the wrap. "All protected."

Ari walks you to the front, and your heart races when you see Steve and Curtis speaking quietly with their heads together. Ari clears his throat, and at the sight of you, Curtis nods, rakes his gaze over you once more. “Come back soon, sugar.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine at Curtis's words, but Ari's steady presence beside you helps ground you. Steve steps forward, a warm smile on his face.

"How did it go?" he asks, his eyes flickering to your wrapped wrist.

"It was amazing," you reply, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. "Ari did an incredible job." You extend your wrist, showing off your new tattoo.

Steve nods approvingly. "Beautiful work. Ari’s one of our best. Let's get you checked out."

As Steve begins to ring up your work, Ari leans against the counter beside you. His arm brushes against yours, and you're acutely aware of his proximity.

"Remember," he says softly, his voice low enough that only you can hear, "take care of it. It's a part of you now."

You nod, shyly meeting his intense gaze, looking up at him through your lashes. "I will," you promise, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ari's eyes soften, and he reaches out, his fingers ghosting over the edge of the wrap on your wrist. "Good girl," he murmurs, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

Steve clears his throat, breaking the moment. "All set," he says, handing you a receipt. "We hope to see you again soon."

You nod, suddenly feeling flustered. "Thank you," you manage to say, gathering your things.

As you turn to leave, Ari's hand catches your elbow gently. "Wait," he says, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a small business card and presses it into your hand. "In case you have any questions about the aftercare. Or anything else."

Your fingers brush as you take the card, and you feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. You look down at the card, noting the personal cell phone number scrawled on it. "Thank you."

Ari's blue eyes lock with yours, intense and filled with unspoken promise.

You barely seem to turn away, but somehow manage to break off from the eye contact, and quickly rush out of Obsidian Stain Studio.

You keep Ari’s business card, but as the weeks go by, you don’t use it.

After a couple of months, you move the card from the spot next to where you keep your keys where you see it every day, into the top drawer of your desk. Out of frequent sight, but not out of mind completely.

It’s a solid six months before you return to Obsidian Stain again, but ultimately you do. The bell jingles above your head as you step inside.

The tattoo on your wrist had healed beautifully, and you loved seeing it on your skin. You had decided fairly soon afterwards that you wanted another tattoo, but even after saving up for your next one, it had taken you longer to decide whether to return Obsidian or not, the experience with Ari and encounters with Curtis leaving you torn between terrified and desperately curious to go back.

Ultimately the allure was too strong to deny.

But, more logically, although finally going in to get your first tattoo had been on a whim, you had been very thorough in narrowing down and exploring your options for months before. You knew they were one of the best in your area, especially for the style you wanted, and the price point you knew you could afford while still ensuring quality.

Unwilling to make an appointment, though, you were going to gamble on a walk-in again.

No one was immediately at the front desk, but at the sound of the bell, Steve quickly appears. “Welcome back,” he said, a broad grin on his face.

“Walk-in?” you ask, and remind him of your name.

“Oh, I remember you.” Steve beckons you forward. “Let me see that wrist,” he says.

You offer your arm with pride, and he smiles warmly.

“Looks good. You hit us on a slow day, perfect for a walk in. I’ll get you booked in, and then I’ll take you right back.”

You feel a mix of excitement and nervousness as Steve leads you to the back. The familiar scent of antiseptic and ink fills your nostrils, bringing back memories of your last visit. Your eyes scan the room, half hoping and half dreading to see a certain tattooist.

"Curtis is free right now," Steve says, guiding you to a station. "He'll take good care of you."

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Curtis's name. You remember his intense gaze, his bold words from your last visit. Part of you is disappointed it's not Ari, but another part is intrigued.

Curtis looks up as you approach, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Well, well. Look who's back," he says, his ice blue eyes locking onto yours.

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very exposed under his gaze. "Hi," you manage evenly.

Curtis's eyes rake over you. "I was hoping you'd come back to us," he says, his voice low and smooth. "What can I do for you today, sugar?"

You begin to explain the design you have in mind - a delicate, line art floral piece. As you talk, Curtis listens intently, occasionally nodding or asking questions. His focus is entirely on you, making you feel both nervous and oddly thrilled.

“And where do you want it?” he finally asks.

You trace an area of your other arm - opposite of the one with your inked-up wrist — moving your above, over, and below the crook of your elbow.

“Hmm,” he hums. “You sure?”

Your eyes shoot to his. “Yes?” an edge of hesitation now in your voice at his query.

He narrows his eyes slightly, then shakes his head. “No.”

“No?”

“No. A piece like this could work well there, but that’s not where you want me to put this.”

“It… isn’t?”

“No, it should go here,” he says, and he reaches out and brushes his fingers lightly over your ribs instead, causing you to shiver.

He gestures for you to take a seat in the chair. As you settle in, Curtis rolls his stool closer, leaning in. "Now, this is going to be a bit more intense than your wrist. You sure you're ready for it?"

You nod, trying to project confidence despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. "I'm ready."

Curtis grins, a predatory glint in his eye. "That's what I want to hear from that pretty mouth. Now just sit tight and wait for me while I draw something up.”

Your heart races as you lean back in the chair, Curtis's words echoing in your mind, causing heat to pool in your core. You watch, mesmerized by the intensity of his focus. After a few minutes, he turns back to you, holding up the sketch.

"What do you think?" he asks.

Your breath catches in your throat. The design is beautiful - delicate flowers and vines intertwining in a way that would perfectly follow the curve of your ribs.

"It's perfect," you breathe, unable to take your eyes off the design.

Curtis smirks, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Alright then, let's get started. I'm going to need you to lift your shirt for me."

Your cheeks flush as you slowly raise the hem of your shirt, exposing your ribs. Curtis's eyes darken as they roam over your skin.

"Beautiful canvas," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You feel exposed, knowing your own soft belly and imperfections, but he looks at you in a way that has your head spinning, it’s a hunger that’s almost reverent.

“Better if you take your shirt off for me, sugar,” he says, his tone firm.

Head swirling, you don’t think to refuse, just do as you’re told. With trembling hands, you pull your shirt over your head, feeling incredibly vulnerable as you sit there in just your bra. Curtis's eyes roam over your exposed skin, a look of satisfaction on his face.

"That's better," he says, his voice low and approving. "Now, let's get you positioned just right."

His hands, surprisingly gentle, guide you to lie back and slightly to the side. You shiver as his fingers trail along your ribs, mapping out where the tattoo will go.

"Nervous?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

He already knows the answer, but you nod, not trusting your voice.

Curtis leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Don't worry, sugar. I'll take good care of you."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

Curtis begins to clean and prepare your skin, his touch clinical yet somehow still intimate. You try to steady your breathing, hyperaware of every point of contact between his hands and your body.

"Now, this is going to hurt more than your wrist did," Curtis warns, his voice low. "But I know you can take it. You're tougher than you look, aren't you, sugar?"

You nod, steeling yourself for the pain. The buzz of the tattoo machine fills the air, and then you feel the first bite of the needle against your skin. You gasp, your body tensing.

"Breathe," Curtis instructs, his free hand coming to rest on your hip, grounding you. "That's it, nice and steady."

As he works, Curtis surprisingly stokes and then keeps up a steady stream of conversation. Mostly it’s inquiry after inquiry, forcing you to focus on finding words, but his deep voice also helps to distract you from the pain. He asks about your life, your interests. You find yourself opening up, sharing more than you intended about your life, your dreams, your fears. His voice continues to provide the counterpoint to the buzz of the tattoo machine.

"You're doing so well," Curtis murmurs, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before returning to his work. "Such a good girl for me."

The praise sends a shiver through you, and you bite your lip to stifle a small moan. Curtis notices, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Sensitive, aren't you?" he says, his voice low. "I like that."

Your cheeks flush, but you can't deny the thrill his words send through you. The pain of the tattoo blends into the sensations he’s evoking as his hands move with practiced precision across your skin.

"So, sugar, what made you come back for more ink?" he asks, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before returning to his work.

You take a shaky breath before answering. "I loved how the first one turned out. And… I guess I wanted to experience it again."

Curtis chuckles, darkly. "Addictive, isn't it? The pain, the permanence... the intimacy of it all."

His words make your heart race, and you're acutely aware of how close he is, how vulnerable you are beneath his hands.

"Speaking of your first time," Curtis continues, the steadying hand that had been at your waist ghosting just a little lower, "Ari seemed quite taken with you. Did you ever give him a call?"

The question catches you off guard, and you feel a flush creep up your neck. "No, I… I didn't," you admit softly.

Curtis's hand stills for a moment, and he looks up at you, his ice blue eyes intense. "No? Now that's interesting. Why not, sugar?"

You swallow hard, unsure how to answer, yet unable to stop the words from flowing. "I... I guess I was nervous," you finally say.

A slow smile spreads across Curtis's face. "Nervous? Of Ari? Or of what you felt?”

Your cheeks flush at his perceptiveness. "Both, maybe," you whisper.

“Or maybe you were waiting for something else?" His hand resumes its work, but the touch his anchor hand seems more deliberate now, each movement charged with unspoken intent.

"I don't know what you mean.”

Curtis chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. "I think you do, sugar. I think you knew exactly what you were doing when you came back here today."

His words hang in the air between you, charged with tension. You can't bring yourself to deny it, can't even find your voice to respond. Curtis seems to take your silence as confirmation.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

The buzz of the tattoo machine fills the silence as Curtis returns his focus to your ribs. You try to steady your breathing, acutely aware of every point of contact between his skin and yours. The pain of the tattoo blends with the heat pooling in your core, creating a heady mix of sensations.

"Tattoo nearly done," Curtis says after what feels like hours.

You let out a shaky breath, a mix of relief and disappointment washing over you. The intense experience is coming to an end, but part you that scares you doesn't want it to.

"Just a few more touches," Curtis murmurs, his eyes focused intently on your skin, and the buzz of the machine continues for a few more minutes.

"There we go," Curtis murmurs. He wipes away the excess ink, then sits back to admire his work. His eyes roam over your exposed skin, a mixture of professional pride and something darker in his gaze. "Want to take a look?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. Curtis helps you sit up, steadying you with a hand on your lower back as you move to face the mirror. Your breath catches in your throat as you see the intricate design now adorning your ribs. The delicate flowers and vines seem to bloom across your skin, following the curves of your body perfectly.

"It's perfect," you whisper, unable to take your eyes off the mirror.

Curtis's smile widens, and his eyes darken. "Of course it is. I knew exactly what you needed."

His words send another shiver through you, but then suddenly you feel the heat of him too close, and he’s pressed right up against your back, planting his large hands on your hips and caging you in.

"You're trembling," Curtis murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you steady against him. "Are you scared, sugar?"

You can't find your voice to answer, your heart pounding in your chest. You're acutely aware of every point of contact between your bodies - his broad chest against your back, his strong hands on your hips, the heat of him seeping through your skin.

"Or maybe," he continues, his voice low and dark, "you're excited."

One of his hands slides up your side, carefully avoiding the fresh tattoo, until it comes to rest just below your breast. Your breath hitches, and you see your pupils dilate in the mirror's reflection.

"That's what I thought," Curtis says, satisfaction clear in his tone. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you? Since the moment you walked in.”

You can feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the faint scent of ink and something uniquely him. Your heart races, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you.

"Tell me, sugar," Curtis murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "Did you come back here hoping to see Ari? Or were you hoping it would be me?"

You swallow hard, your mind spinning. "I… I don't know," you manage to whisper.

Curtis chuckles, the sound low and dark. "I think you do know. I think you've been thinking about this for months." His hands slide up and down your sides, careful to avoid the fresh tattoo. "Thinking about what it would be like if you came back. If you let yourself give in."

Your breath hitches. “No.”

“No?” he challenges. His right hand, still gloved, audaciously slips past your waistband and down the front of your panties to cup your pussy. He laughs softly, discovering a growing wetness there. “Yes.”

You gasp as Curtis's hand begins to stroke your most intimate area, your body betraying you with its response. Your mind races, torn between the thrill of his touch and the shock at how quickly things have escalated.

"Wait," you manage to breathe out, your voice shaky. "We shouldn't…"

Curtis pauses, his hand stilling but not withdrawing. "Why not?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Your body is telling me a different story, sugar."

You're acutely aware of how exposed you are, standing there in just your bra with Curtis pressed against your back, his hand between your legs. The mirror reflects your flushed face and wide eyes, Curtis's intense gaze locked on you.

"Someone could walk in," you whisper, a weak protest even to your own ears.

Curtis chuckles darkly. "They could.”

Your mind is spinning, caught between the intense sensations and the voice in your head screaming that this is wrong, that you shouldn't be doing this here, now, with him. But your body betrays you, responding eagerly to his touch.

"Curtis," you manage to whisper, your voice shaky, and tears springing up in your eyes. "We can’t—"

"Shh," he soothes, his free hand coming up to gently grip your throat. Not choking, just holding. "Don't overthink it, sugar. Just feel."

His fingers continue their exploration, finding your clit and circling it slowly. You bite back a moan, plant your hands on the mirror, and your hips rock back against him.

“Fuck, knew you wanted this,” he speaks directly into your ear.

You whimper and shake your head, but then his hand moves up to cover your mouth. “Gotta keep more quiet than that unless you want someone else to join us, sugar.”

Your eyes desperately seek his in the mirror, fear flashing in them, and the tears begin to spill over. There’s a predatory glint in his icy blue gaze.

His fingers continue their skilled ministrations, drawing forth sensations you've never experienced before. Your body betrays you, responding eagerly to his touch despite your mind's protests. You're caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions - fear, excitement, shame, and an overwhelming, undeniable pleasure.

"Look at yourself," Curtis commands softly, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. "See how beautiful you are like this."

You force yourself to look, to really see yourself - flushed cheeks, wide eyes, chest heaving with each ragged breath. Curtis behind you, his large frame dwarfing yours, his hand between your legs, the other still gently but firmly covering your mouth.

Curtis's eyes meet yours in the mirror, his gaze intense and predatory. The fear in your eyes seems to excite him further, his grip on you tightening slightly.

"Don't worry, sugar," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “I knew all those pretty tears were just for show, you want this just as badly as I do, andI've got you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through you. You're acutely aware of how vulnerable you are, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to. And yet, there's a part of you that thrills at the danger, at the forbidden nature of what's happening.

Curtis's fingers continue their skilled exploration, drawing involuntary gasps and moans from you that are muffled by his hand. Each deliberate movement sends waves of sensation coursing through your body, igniting a fire that you never expected to feel. Your body continues to betray you, responding to his touch despite your mind's protests, creating a tumultuous conflict within you. The thrill of the moment is undeniable, yet a flicker of apprehension lingers in the background, whispering the dangers of being caught in such an intimate entanglement, making it impossible to pull away.

"Damn, that’s a pretty sight,” a familiar voice jolts you nearly out of your skin, and you whip your head around to see Ari looming in the entry.

Curtis stops only for a moment and looks over his shoulder at the other man. "Didn't anyone teach you it's rude to interrupt?"

Ari shrugs, all nonchalance, and palms the large bulge pressing at the front of his jeans.

Your heart races, caught between exhilaration and apprehension. The sight of Ari standing there, a blend of curiosity, mischief, and lust in his eyes, adds an element of unpredictability that excites and terrifies you.

Curtis grunts, then says, “I’m not stopping, but I’ll share.”

Your jaw would have dropped to the floor in that moment had Curtis’s hand not been holding it in place, securing your response and anchoring you to the present. The idea of a threesome, tantalizing yet fraught with risk, swirls in your mind. How did this escalate so quickly? The thought of being discovered sends a shiver down your spine, but the allure of the forbidden is intoxicating, pulling you deeper into the moment.

You sob, overwhelmed and afraid, but it’s muffled as Curtis turns your body around with him, his grip firm yet reassuring His fingers are still moving, relentless and sure, and you can hardly focus on anything else. Your mind races through the possibilities, the dangerous thrill of being discovered adding an exhilarating layer to the encounter. Would Ari join in, or would he simply stand by and watch, adding to the intensity of the moment? The idea of indulging in such a forbidden experience fills you with a mix of dread and excitement, as if you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, about to leap into the unknown.

Ari pulls a privacy curtain you had failed to notice across the opening to the booth before taking the few short steps to close the distance between you. This sudden shield from prying eyes heightens the anticipation, transforming the atmosphere into one charged with desire and unspoken possibilities. Ari traces the back of his forefinger down the column of your throat, down your sternum, between your breasts, and then circles around the expanse of your new tattoo, eyes roaming over the beautiful design.

Not to be forgotten, Curtis tweaks your clit, cracking the pleasure that had been mounting like a whip, demanding an orgasm from your body, and you tremble in his arms as you cling to him. Each flick of his fingers sends shivers through you, igniting a fiery response that leaves you gasping for more.

“Knew you were such a good girl,” Ari praises, and your chest surges from his praise, his low, sultry voice invading your mind. Then, he unzips his jeans, the sound echoing in the booth like a promise yet to be fulfilled. He goes to sit on the black leather chair, pushing his pants and boxer briefs down around his ankles, revealing the enticing sight of his big, throbbing cock.

Curtis lifts you with ease and places you in Ari's lap. The transition is seamless, and you find yourself enveloped in the warmth of Ari's embrace. His hands instinctively find their way to your hips, grounding you as you settle in. With Curtis standing close, the dynamic continues to shift and evolve. You can feel the heat radiating from both men, each one eager to exact pleasure, and you hope the fire doesn’t consume you completely.

“Take off your bra,” Ari directs you.

Your eyes widen over his immediate demands, but, nervous as you still are, you don’t hesitate to do as he says. His hands on your hips hold you steady while you reach around to unclasp, and then you let it drop and fall away, biting your lip. Ari groans appreciatively, and grinds your core against his cock. You let out a shuddering breath at the friction, but it’s a singular sensation for only a moment, because then Ari dips his head and takes one of your breasts into his hot, wet mouth, and you gasp. Your fingers tangle immediately into his hair, looking for some kind of anchor.

Vaguely you hear the rustle of fabric from Curtis close behind you, and then you feel the heat of his now naked chest press against your back. He nips lightly at your neck, but then pulls back slightly. He rucks your loose skirt up over your hips, but then he rips the fabric of your panties right off, and you yelp in surprise.

Ari’s quick to muffle your sound by shifting his lips from your breast to your mouth, but his lips and tongue are no less eager, and the kiss is delicious and demanding, and you’re easily almost completely lost in him again. But Curtis has also discarded his gloves, and now his warm, calloused hands move slowly up your thighs before squeezing your hips, then start to knead the flesh of your round ass.

Curtis places a hand between your shoulders and pushes you forward, coaxing you against Ari’s chest. Ari takes the hint and leans back in the reclined chair, pulling you with him. This exposes your most intimate parts to Curtis, and he spreads you open, then presses his tongue flat against your cunt, eliciting a moan that, luckily, is swallowed up by Ari, who’s still eagerly kissing you, and now kneading your breasts in his large hands. Curtis continues to lick and lap at your cunt, but then his tongue begins to move up, and then suddenly he’s tonguing the tight rosebud of your ass, and you whimper and freeze.

Ari stops when you stop, pulling away to look at your face and assess the situation.

Curtis teases you with his tongue for another moment before pausing to pull away as well.

“Not a virgin,” he guesses, “but never had anyone play with your ass, have you, sugar?”

You close your eyes and try to take a steadying breath, your, “no,” soft and barely audible.

“Do you want him to stop?” Ari asks, and you can feel him studying your face.

Your mind is racing, but you remain frozen, unsure of what to say.

Ari brings one hand up to stroke your cheek. You lean into his touch and open your eyes again, but still don’t speak.

“Keep going,” he says to Curtis, and Curtis does.

While Curtis works your tightest hole with his tongue, still splaying your cheeks open, Ari reaches down to slip two fingers into your dripping cunt, and you eagerly rock your hips for more. Ari smiles, then brings you down with his other hand to kiss you again.

When you’re positively humping his hand, Ari pulls back from kissing you again with a darker laugh than you expected, but you’re so far gone between them, you think of stopping or slowing at all now.

“Open your eyes,” he commands.

But it doesn’t register.

He withdraws your fingers and slaps your pussy, making you gasp and groan, and your eyes whip open.

His dark blue irises are barely visible, pupils blown wide with lust, and it just cause another surge of electricity to run through you to your core.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

And then it’s his cock nudging at your entrance.

“Ari,” you groan.

“Since that first fucking minute I saw you in the lobby,” he says. He taps his cock aggressively against your swollen clit, and you keen for him. “Knew you were an innocent little thing, and I wanted to absolutely ruin you.”

You bite your lip, unable to look away from him, and think of that day, too.

“We both wanted to ruin you,” Curtis adds. And his finger takes over where his tongue had been, working gently but insistently into your ass.

You moan softly, but the two men hear it and exchange a glance over your shoulder. Ari looks pleased.

“I didn’t touch you that day, only teased you, enticed you. I knew you’d be back,” he growls. “Shame I didn’t have you on my chair again, but that wasn’t going to stop me.”

He pushes your lips back to his for another devouring kiss, but it’s brief.

“You’re desperate to be filled up, aren’t you?” he asks.

Closing your eyes again, you whimper and drop your forehead to his, but your answer is undeniable. “Yes.”

“You didn’t have to wait this long, but we won’t punish you for that. We’re patient men.”

“It only gave us more time to think of all the ways we’ll take you apart, sugar,” Curtis murmurs against your shoulder, then presses open-mouthed kisses against your hot skin there.

And then Ari is slipping his cock inside of your cunt, slow, insistent, and doesn’t stop until he’s into the hilt, pushing all the air out of your lungs. He’s so big it feels like he’s everywhere, and it takes you concentrating on making your lungs work again to suck in deep breaths, impossibly full of him.

But as full as you feel, it wasn’t everything. Because while Ari was slipping his cock inside you, Curtis had removed his fingers, and now his thick cock was splitting you open and finding room in a hole that had never been filled before, and it was unfamiliar pain, but already pressing into impossible pleasure, and really, you had to press your palms to the leather on either side of Ari’s head and focus on breathing and only breathing if you were going to survive this.

And then they both began to move.

In and out and in and out and inandout.

And you were sure you were going to black out or bliss out from how full you were and all the sensations surging through your body and –

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I make no apologies for this. Send me your medical bills as needed.

[gildedoak]

SEASON 1 FINALE, PART 1: Southern Comfort Food, Episode 13 - Apple Tartlets

>>PART TWO

(content warnings: hospitals, vomit)

An anonymous gift box arrived at the hotel...

SOUTHERN COMFORT FOOD SERIES Chicken and Waffles Sweet Tea Peach Cobbler Hushpuppies Crab/Crawfish Boil Gumbo (plus character notes!) Beignets (part 2) Shrimp and Grits Cornbread Biscuits and Gravy Pecan Pie/Sugar Pie Fried Catfish Apple Tartlets, Part 2

Description under the cut!

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: colored Hazbin Hotel comic

Panel 1: An arrangement of medical computer and lab equipment sits on a desk in the dark, but light emanates from the computer monitor. In the foreground, bathed in heavy shadow, is a slightly crushed bakery box, addressed to "Charlie Morningstar." A note on top reads, "Congratulations on the new program!" On the computer screen are various medical readings, along with an image of a small pie, with multiple warning icons around it. There are four vials of golden blood off to the side of the desk, and some kind of medical specimen scanning box with the small pie inside.

Panel 2: Lucifer blinks awake, wearing a blue hospital gown and bandages wrapped around his neck. There's a damp washcloth on his forehead. The bags under his eyes are more prominent, and he looks haggard and sick. Alastor (offscreen): You're finally awake. Charlie will be happy to hear it.

Panel 3: Lucifer looks over to see Alastor sitting next to the bed, aggressively wringing out another wet washcloth and looking irritated. Lucifer: Charlie... she's...? Alastor: She's safe, thanks to you. HOWEVER - she is fully prepared to give you a lengthy, HARSHLY WORDED lecture.

Panel 4: Alastor's neck snaps as he turns his head around, already shifting into his demonic form. Alastor: AND THAT'S ONLY IF I DON'T THROTTLE YOU *FIRST.* Lucifer (offscreen): But - !!

Panel 5: Alastor grows larger to the point where his face fills the panel, as he glares down at a tiny Lucifer, who looks terrified. Alastor: Six days. SIX DAYS you've been delirious with a raging fever and I swore that if the poison didn't kill you - I'D DO IT MYSELF.

Panel 6: Wide panel of Alastor in full demon form, towering over Lucifer lying in a hospital bed with an IV. Alastor: Because when Queen Belphegor told us those apple tartlets actually had *COMMUNION WAFERS* baked in the crust - I promised our daughter that I would turn you into a *FEATHER DUSTER* for being so reckless!!

Panel 7: Panel from Alastor's POV, Lucifer looking up at him, the washcloth having fallen to the side of the pillow. Alastor's hand curls around him, as if to maybe strangle him, but his hand is shaking, and Lucifer just holds his palm. Alastor (offscreen): NEXT TIME, DON'T -

Panel 8: Grayscale flashback to Lucifer vomiting up golden blood, clutching at the front of his shirt.

Panel 9: Grayscale flashback of Alastor carrying Lucifer in his arms - neither of their faces are visible. Indiscernible cries of alarm coming from the other residents. Lucifer's head lolls back as he starts to convulse, golden blood on his hands, his face, and the front of his shirt which has been unbuttoned along with his vest and bowtie.

Panel 10: Now back to his normal size, though his antlers are still prominent, Alastor hugs Lucifer to him, burying his face in his shoulder. Lucifer hugs back. Alastor: Just don't.

END DESCRIPTION]

[musingmeaninglessly]

In Deep ; Neteyam x Fem!Human! Reader

Summary: When Tuk gets stuck underwater, there's only one person who can save her...

Lil bit angsty, lil bit fluffy. If you're sensitive to matters related to drowning, I suggest you skip this story.

If not, then enjoy! 💙

"Aaaand, I'm officially done."

Hands burning, you release the final inky braid of your boyfriend's that you've been working on.

Leaning his head back against your lap from his seat on the floor, Neteyam's glimmering eyes meet yours as he beams.

"Thank you, yawntutsyìp, what would I do without you?"

You don't get a chance to answer as he gently pulls your face down to meet his, the glass of your exopack chilly against his forehead. When he finally releases you, he's smiling wider than ever, but the same can't be said for the other figure present.

Sharpening her spear, Neytiri's glare never leaves you. Throughout the six month's worth of courting her son, you've never once been able to win her approval. Seeing her pride and joy be practically polluted by a damned tawtute was not her vision for the eldest Sully child.

And you felt that. Even without the prejudices against your species, what could you possibly offer her family? You lack the basic genetics that make the Na'vi so wondrous, not to mention the survival skills and intelligence. No matter how much Neteyam tells you otherwise, you feel inferior. And Neytiri's hostility doesn't help.

Yet in spite of it al, Neteyam had been defiant of his mother for the first time in his life. And it was all in pursuit of you; his star girl, his little love, his mate.

He catches your worrisome look and follows your eyes over to his mother's. With a sigh, he frowns at her silently, but her eyes remain the same, burning more ferociously than the campfire between you. No one says a thing; well, no one actually gets the chance.

"Help! HELP! It's Tuk!!"

The sound of Kiri's voice is the only thing that snaps Neytiri's attention away from you and her son. The teenage girl sprints over to where you all rise from your seats in a panic. She's gasping for breath and drenched from the ocean's waters.

Neteyam takes a step towards his sister, flashing you a worried, yet warm, look before he does so. Ever the level-headed communicator, he puts a hand on her shoulder, "Kiri, slow down. What's happened?"

"We- me, Lo'ak and Tuk- were free diving, and she spotted that new species of coral- you know, the one Norm told us about?"

Your eyes widened at that- you knew exactly which species she was talking about. A mysterious unnamed specimen with the ability to interact with the energy around it, not dissimilar to the Venus Flytrap plants you'd read about on Earth. Norm had told you all about this new discovery made by one of the botanists, detailing it's features and abilities. It was honestly quite fascinating; powerful, alive, dangerous.

"This new species, yes, I remember." Neteyam's green eyes transform with an amber hue just as Neytiri begins bombarding Kiri with a million questions.

"Well, we went to get a better look at it, and I told Tuk not to touch, but she didn't listen!" Kiri begins to cry, her face wracked with guilt. By this point, several overhearing Metkayina have joined the scene, "It's got her!"

"I can't reach her...the gap in the coral is too small..." Lo'ak suddenly appears on land, visibly exhausted.

"Can't we cut her free?" Neteyam sensibly suggests, but his siblings shake their heads.

"We tried, but whenever you cut a piece, even more grows!" Kiri wailed, prompting Lo'ak to put an arm around her. You make a mental note to suggest the name 'Hydra' to Norm once this is all over. "There's a gap in the coral-"

"-I will go!" Neytiri booms, ridding herself of her bow and spear. Lo'ak, however, stops her in her tracks.

"It's no use, mother! The gap is way too small, I couldn't fit through it..."

You squeeze Neteyam's hand sympathetically, and when his amber eyes meet yours, you get an idea. Amidst all the commotion, the panicked voices and desperate dives into the water, it all becomes crystal clear to you.

"I'll get her out."

Everyone's attention snaps over to you in an instant, not quite believing what you've just said.

"My love, it's far too dangerous! What if the water leaks into your mask?" Neteyam kneels down in front of you, sternness lacing his features. You simply shake your head.

"I'm the only one who can reach her and fit through the gap, I must go."

Neteyam exchanges a worried glance with his siblings, ignoring his mother's scornful expression. Lo'ak and Kiri nod to him, and he knows what he has to do.

"Then I will go with you."

"What's going on?"

Jake suddenly appears with Tonowari, presumably returning from some sort of meeting.

"No time to explain, Dad. Please could you fetch Y/N's spare mask?" Neteyam briefly requests, and is met with a nod of his father's head.

Meanwhile, you hurriedly rid yourself of your blouse. It's a flowing, loose fabric- certainly not appropriate for swimming. With no other choice, you're left in your bra before taking Neteyam's hand and diving into the water.

Lo'ak and Kiri promptly follow, helping you get down to the specific spot. Several other Metkayina follow you in, unable to help, but worried for the youngest Sully.

When you see Tuk, you have to do your best not to panic. She's more-or-less unconscious, limbs entangled in the coral's moving tendrils. Neteyam's grip on your hand tightens, but you place yours on his chest, wordlessly reassuring him, and he lets you go.

Lo'ak helps you over to the small gap in the coral. It's no wonder the siblings struggled, the opening is barely wide enough for a human to fit through. Yet, somehow you do, mindful of the fact that one wrong move would put you in the exact same situation as Tuk. With that in mind, you carefully make your way to her body after taking Lo'ak's knife from him.

There's really no other choice but to cut Tuk free, but you have to make quick work of it. Thankfully, your nimble fingers are up to the task as the Sully siblings watch on desperately.

But, amidst your hard work, you fail to notice that the suction lining of your exopack had come slightly free along your jaw, letting in a small trickle of water and, in turn, a whisper of oxygen out.

Neteyam goes to lunge towards you, noticing a small amount of water build up in your mask. But Lo'ak holds him back, signing that you're fine.

That's what you try to tell yourself as you hold your mask to your face tightly, cutting away at the last couple of coral tendrils. When you give Kiri the signal, she slashes an opening above you, and you haul Tuk's body out of the coral entrapment before the tendrils can grow back.

The rest of it becomes a blur. The Sully siblings are at your side in an instant, hauling you and Tuk up the surface. Your mask continues to fill with water and once it floods above your nose, you hold your breath. But, by some miracle, your head soon breaks through the water's edge above you.

Kiri and Lo'ak take Tuk from you while Neteyam wraps his arms firmly around your waist. "It's going to be alright, my love, we're almost there..."

He continues to murmur to you comfortingly through his own panic, finally reaching Jake and grabbing for the spare mask. "I'm going to take this off, alright?"

You have no time to acknowledge his words before your mask is swiftly swept off of your face and the new, dry, undamaged replacement is secured against your skin. You gasp in jagged breaths, only now processing it all as Neteyam bundles you against him.

"My brave, brave girl..." he whispers into your hair, cupping the back of your head as you both float in the water. For a moment, the both of you seem to forget about Tuk, and it's only when you hear her coughing back on the shore that you remember.

"Oh, thank Ewya!" Neytiri gasps, sobbing hysterically as she reaches to comfort her youngest daughter. "Don't you ever do that again, do you hear me child?!"

Tuk nods with a cry, before rushing over to you. "Y/N, you saved me! Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

The rest of the family smile at the two of you, Jake and Lo'ak thanking you profusely while Kiri joins yours and Tuk's group hug.

"Hey, hey, careful. She needs to breathe..." Neteyam protectively instructs, gently pulling his sisters off of you. You smile at them and mouth a silent 'thank you' to your boyfriend, before turning to hug him as he kneels to your height.

"My love," Neteyam's deep voice draws a soft smile from you as he tenderly cups your cheek, "you were so brave."

You can't help blushing at his praise, but grasp at his hand that's cupping your exopack-covered cheek and pull him closer. "You would've done the same if you could have, ma 'Teyam..."

The longer you hold him, the more pronounced the little sniffles heard from him become. Pulling back, you eye him worriedly, 'What is it, 'Teyam? Are you alright?"

Coaxing his eyes open by running the pads of your fingers beneath them, his tearful irises meet yours. "I could've lost you, little one..."

"But you didn't," you gently remind him, holding his hand over your heart, "I'm here, and I love you. Okay?"

Neteyam nods forcefully, almost as if an absence of the action would make you disappear. Yet, his eyes never leave yours. Not even for a moment.

"I love you...so deeply...even deeper than the waters you just braved for my sister..."

Now it's your eyes that overflow with salty tears and you throw your arms around Neteyam's broad shoulders. "I love you, 'Teyam...Nga yawne lu oer..."

"Y/N,"

The sound of your name breaks up the tender moment prematurely, and you spring away from Neteyam. In truth, you'd forgot that his family, and several people from the Metkayina tribe, were watching.

It had been Neytiri's voice that cut through the sweet moment like a knife through butter. You gulp, craning your neck to face the Sully matriarch, who's shrugging off her mate's hand from her shoulder.

You're surely for it now.

But to your pleasant surprise, she drops to her knees and hangs her head in..shame? Eyes wide, you look at her children and Jake, wondering what on Pandora you're supposed to do now. But they all smile softly.

"Forgive me. I've underestimated you, thought you like them. But you saved my child at your own risk. I was wrong."

You can tell that Neytiri's English isn't quite advanced enough to fully communicate her thanks. But it's there in her eyes.

"Please, forgive me..."

With a gentle nod of your head, you smile. You never expected Neytiri to see you as anything other than a Sky Person, but you really didn't expect her to grab at you and pull you into a hug.

Your arms raise to your side in surprise, and the look on your face is clearly comical enough to make Lo'ak burst out laughing- until Jake smacks him up the side of his head. Tentatively, you return Neytiri's hug. "I forgive you..."

"You are good for my son," Neytiri pulls back to look at you with a warmth you've never seen before, "thank you."

"Okay, Mother, let little Y/N breathe." Neteyam chuckles, gently pulling you back towards him. Neytiri shakes her head at her son's overprotectiveness, but fondly places her hand atop your head for a short moment before returning to fuss over Tuk.

You turn back to Neteyam and a soft hum leaves his lips and his eyes trail over your face, before he notices some Metkayina boys gawking at you. Only then do the both of you realise that you're stood in your bra and a pair of shorts.

"W-we, uh, let's get you back to the lab, get you some more clothes." Neteyam suggests, using his towering advantage to shield your body from prying eyes as his own glare at the intruders.

"Good idea," you giggle, desperate to be a little more concealed now that you're aware of your state, "I could do with a nap."

"I'm not surprised," Neteyam's face softens and he tilts his head, "may I join you?"

[crystaltoa]

Shoutout to @lesbioniclepod for reminding me about Whenua's kraata collection

It's really hard to imagine the other Turaga both knowing about and being okay with Whenua maintaining a collection of live Kraata that size. And yet, apparently the others contributed to the collection by catching Kraata in secret over the years and then presumably giving them to Whenua to be put in storage.

And I'd find it hard to buy that the Turaga would think that literally all the Kraata had to be stored in stasis and that killing them was not an acceptable option. Especially since none of them expressed objections to killing Visorak back in the day.

So, my guess is that the other Turaga let Whenua keep a collection of them in stasis so that they could be studied and better understood....

...but his siblings may not have been aware of the exact size of Whenua's collection.

I can imagine him telling the others that they ought to have at least one of each kind of kraata preserved in stasis. This seems fairly reasonable to the others. By kinds, he means kinds of power, right? How many types are there? Eight? Ten? Not more than a dozen, surely.

When he insists that nobody kill any kraata until he's had a chance to look at them and make sure he hasn't already got one of them, they begrudgingly accept that. Alright, they think. But this one's insect control, didn't you already have one of those that Matau caught for you a few years back? At which point Whenua admits that when he says "One of each kind", he's referring not just to breed, but also developmental stage. Alright, they think, he's the expert.

None of the others particularly want a lecture on all the gory details of how Kraata develop, which is of course what they'll get if they try to argue with Whenua. An evil slug wouldn't have that many stages in its life cycle anyway, would it? Two or three maximum, surely.

So the others are thinking Whenua has maybe two or three dozen Kraata stashed away somewhere safe. It wouldn't be good if they were released, but they could handle it if they had to.

Whenua, meanwhile is starting to think he should start a backup collection in case something happens to these specimens. He hasn't lied to his siblings... he said at the beginning that they should have at least one of each kind, and they agreed! So a few backups would be allowed. Maybe three or four of each should be sufficient. Or... five? Hmmm.... he doesn't really trust the number five. Six. Everyone likes the number six!

Anyway.

That's how we ended up here...

[gashinabts]

Me and My Husband | (m)

Word 4.k

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff, slight angst, smut

Warnings: smut, explicit sex

a/n: sorry I have been hiatus, I’ve been busy and I had writers block 😭hopefully I’ll write more fics

You don’t want to brag but you have the world’s greatest husband. Jungkook packs your lunch everyday, and makes cute shapes with the fruit. There’s even a little note, ‘ Have a good day at work, Baby! <3’. Smiling to yourself you place the note down, and eat your food with content.

Your new coworker, Mina, sits down next to you in the break room, sighing and drinks her energy drink. “ I swear men are the most lazy specimen,” she chugs the rest of her drink. “ I asked my husband to pick up the kids from school and he said he was too tired from work. I’m tired too but I still have responsibilities to do,” she groans. You don’t what to say, you just give her a meek smile and offer her a gimbap.

Mina takes a bite and hums in delight, “ How do you even have time to pack your lunch since you have morning shift. Did you make it at night?” She asked in curiosity.

“ My husband wakes up early and makes it for me. He also makes me breakfast too,” you shrug. Jungkook wakes up an hour earlier than you, first he kisses you and tells you have an hour left of sleep left. Then he works out sometimes lifting weights or running around the neighborhood. After that he packs your lunch and makes you breakfast.

Mina eyes widened in shock. “ Wait till you get over the honeymoon stage,” she laughs poking her elbow to your arm. “ How long have you been married? Six months?”

Shaking your head you laugh, while pulling your phone to show her your family picture. “ Almost nine years, we have two kids. My oldest six years old and my baby is three years old.”

Mina is even more shock, “ And that’s your husband. I don’t want to cross a line but he’s hot,” she points at your husband. Jungkook is wearing a black t-shirt and displaying his tattoos, and his jeans hug his thighs in the right places. “ He is hot and makes you breakfast and packs your lunch.” She groans, she is wondering what she has done in her past life to not have a perfect husband like yours.

You chuckle, “ Yeah, he’s the best.” Feeling gleeful that you have him in your life. You don’t want to go into details that he also cooks dinner and cleans the house while taking care of your kids because you were sure she would pass out.

…

You enter your house and see your husband making dinner with Soobin. Walking towards them, Soobin immediately senses you. Turning around shouting Mommy. “ How are my babies?” You kiss Soobin on the cheek and he makes grabby hands, and you carry him easily. Nuzzling into his chubby cheeks and peppering kisses and putting him back down so he can carry on to helping his dad.

Jungkook smiles and stops cooking, immediately giving you a welcome home kiss on the lips. His hands are on your hips, “ We are good, Hyrei is taking a nap. Soobin wanted to help me out and we are almost finish with dinner,” Jungkook kisses you more and you wrap your hands over his shoulder, basking in his attention.

It stops all too soon when Soobin tugs on Jungkooks shirt. “ Daddy, we need to finish.” He pouts and you laugh because he looks just like Jungkook when he gets upset.

“ Sorry, I was giving Mommy kisses because I miss her,” Jungkook explains to him and ruffles his hair. Jungkook pecks your lips one last time and playfully smacks your butt. “ Take a shower, dinner should be ready by then.”

Nodding you listen to his directions and head up to take a shower. Feeling refreshed out of the shower you walk to drawer picking your cutest lingerie set then wearing a baggy shirt and sweatpants over it. Hurriedly, you walk down stairs as you hear Soobin calling for you. Jungkook is setting the food on table and you are greeted with Hyeri on her high chair waiting patiently to be served. Hyeri doe eyes look at you and she immediately smiles and calls for you. You talk to her asking about her day and she lets out a few words still getting the grasp of speaking in full sentences. Soobin sits on your lap wanting your attention as well, and you ask about school. And he excitedly explains in detail about it. “ Thank you, baby,” you kiss Jungkook’s cheek when he serves your plate. There’s a lot of laughter at the table and you enjoy talking with your family.

After dinner you set the kids in the living room and put on cartoons for them so you can help Jungkook clean the kitchen while talking to him. “ How was work, love?” Jungkook ask as he cleans the dishes, while you are cleaning up the mess Hyeri made. He loves hearing you talk about work because you are passionate about it.

“ It was really good. One of my old patients who is about Soobin’s age come to visit me. He’s walking and running now. He gave me a hand written card. And told me I was his hero,” you smile. The faucet turns off and Jungkook turns around tells you to come over. “ Yes?”

Jungkook hands are on your cheek caressing it, “ You’re amazing, you know that?” You roll your eyes, flustered at his compliment. “ I’m serious Y/n. You’re kind, smart, and beautiful. And you saved so many children’s lives. I’m really grateful to have you as my wife.” You hide in his neck not wanting him to see your flushed cheeks. He chuckles at your actions because it is similar to Hyeri’s body language when calls her ‘pretty girl’.

“ Jungkook I—” you were going to tell him that appreciate him more but all you can hear was Soobin screaming in pain. Immediately, you both run to the living room and see Soobin crying holding up his finger. “ Soobin, what happened?” You asked but he keeps crying loudly. Skillfully you examine his finger and see no bleeding just a faint red mark. You see the toy car next to him and you assume what happened. Soobin calms down sniffling now, “ Did you pinch your finger with the car?” He nods at your question. Jungkook sighs in relief and wiping Soobin tears.

…

“ The babies are asleep,” you say as you enter the bedroom and Jungkook is on the bed waiting for you. You pull your shirt off and toss it on the floor along with your sweats and Jungkook smirks when he sees your lilac lingerie set. “ Do you like it?” You ask already knowing the answer and you sit on his lap.

“ Fuck yeah,” Jungkook looks at your tits and nuzzles into them. He get lost in them he loves the warmth and how it smells like honey and lavender. Your nails caress his hair and he groans immediately getting hard from the sight of you. “ So damn sexy,” his hands land on your hips massaging as he gets closer to your ass. Desperately wanting to be inside, Jungkook fingers trail to your front of your lace panties seeking your wetness. He is always desperate with you, it is not like you guys don’t have sex regularly. Just yesterday you guys fucked in the laundry room, he had to stuff your mouth panties so you wouldn’t wake up your kids from their nap.

Jungkook leaves open mouth kisses on the swell of your tits, sucking marks on them. You grind on Jungkook’s hand as he pushes your panties to the side and rubs your wetness. He focuses on your clit and you whimper. After a few more minutes of heavy petting you beg Jungkook insert his finger since he was teasing you so much. Jungkooks skillfully fingers and your trying your best to contain to your moans. “ Jungkook wait…” Jungkook stops and ask you what’s wrong. “ I want to ride you,” you whisper pushing more against the head board.

He pulls his shirt off and your hands touch his pecks and his abs. You notice that he has gained more muscle. “ Gonna ride me good, baby?” Jungkook ask.

“ Yeah, I want to make you come hard,” your hand pump his cock and you make marks on his neck. Wanting to show people that he is all yours. Jungkook stifles a groan tossing his back as you touch his sensitive tip. You give him one last kiss on the lips before turning around so your back is now facing him. His hands are drawn to your ass fondling them and you chuckle because he is both an ass and tits guy. Pushing your panties the side, Jungkook helps you by inserting his cock in and you guys both moan as you slide down hard. Not wanting to waste time you ride him like a pro never stopping for breaks.

Jungkook continuously curses as you squeeze him tight, his hands spreading your cheeks loving the way you cream on his cock. He slaps your ass and you clench harder in pleasure. “ Riding me so good, baby,” Jungkook slaps another time the rubbing it to soothe the pain. You whine wanting more but you had to keep quiet because you didn’t want to wake anyone up.

“ You feel so good. I can feel you so deep,” you whisper. Grinding now because your thighs are little sore. You one of his hands from your ass to your navel, “ Can you feel it? I love it when your so deep in me,” you tell him, softly moaning.

Once Jungkook heard those words something came over him, he loved hearing you dirty talk. But his hand feeling your soft stomach and the imprint of his cock is making him go crazy. His actions taking control of him he thrust upwards and holding your hips in place fucking you to oblivion. Your eyes roll back and you cry into your palms muffling your moans. Overwhelmed with pleasure you come hard on his cock. “ Come for me, daddy,” you let out breathlessly. “ Want your come in me.”

Jungkook moans your name, pumping a couple times before coming inside. He holds you tight against his chest, peppering a couple kisses on your nape. Both of you breathless not saying anything. He leaves more kisses on your back. “ Jungkook, I love you,” you say just above a whisper.

“ I love you too,” Jungkook softy whispers. He pulls out and switches your body so you’re now facing him.

“ No, like I really love you,” you tell truthfully. Jungkook looks at you with doe eyes and you gleam holding his cheeks, peppering kisses everywhere on his face. “ You are my favorite person in the whole world. And I appreciate everything you do for us,” you kiss his lips.

“ Thank you, Y/n. I appreciate you too,” Jungkook smiles. He kisses you back and his hands trail your back and unlatches your bra taking it off. “ Let me show you how much I appreciate you,” he gently pushes you back on the bed.

…

Jungkook groans as Soobin jumps on him waking him up, “ Mommy said to wake you up,” Soobin says playing with his father’s fluffy hair. Jungkook carries Soobin and enter the kitchen to see you cooking pancakes. Placing Soobin down he eats his pancakes and gives Hyeri the banana slices. “ Morning,” Jungkook kisses your lips and he tries to kiss you more but you push him off laughing. “ I’m don’t want to burn anymore pancakes,” you say.

You serve him his plate with extra bacon, “ These are yours. They are protein pancakes,” Jungkook hums happily eating his plate and you eat your own as you feed Hyeri more pancakes. “ Such a good girl. Eating all your food,” you coo at Hyeri. Jungkook admires the way you look with your hair in a bun and your wearing his big t-shirt.

Jungkook gulps before he says the next words, “ My mom says we should visit her soon,” he notices your hands halter and you turn to look at him. Jungkooks looks nervous because he knows how you feel about his mom. And there’s always an argument regarding about his mother.

“ Yeah she hasn’t seen Soobin and Hyeri in awhile we could drop them off,” you shrug and drink your orange juice. Soobin looks at you because his name is mentioned. Your hands brush his soft hair, “ Want to see grandma, lovebug?” Soobin smiles and excitedly says yes.

He wants you guys to have a good relationship. “ She wants to see us too. That’s including you Y/n,” Jungkook says.

“ Why would she want to see me? She hates me,” you turn your head around and crossing your arms. You don’t have the best relationship with her. You guys always end butting heads and she disapproves of you working and Jungkook being a stay home dad. It is not like you forced him to do that. It just conveniently worked out that way. Jungkook was more than happy enough to be a stay at home dad.

Actually you think she hated you the moment Jungkook introduced you to her. When you and Jungkook started dating in college, you would sometimes spend the night at his apartment. So when she did her occasional visits to give her son more banchan she found you and Jungkook naked in bed she was not mad at her son but at you because you corrupted him. Even though Jungkook had several past girlfriends before you.

“ She hates you?,” Soobin ask loudly in shock. You want to laugh because he’s nosy wanting to hear the drama but you’re too upset to laugh.

“ Y/n,” Jungkook gives you look because you weren’t careful with your words around Soobin. “ And Soobin since you are finished eating…” Jungkook takes Hyeri out of the high chair setting her down. “ Go play with your sister outside.”

You wait for them to leave so you can return to the conversation. “ Jungkook anyone can tell that she hates. She always berates me when I do anything.” You thought that things would be easier with her since you and Jungkook get married but it hasn’t.

“ My mom promised me that she wasn’t going to pick a fight with you. And I told her that if she did that I would call her out and leave right away,” Jungkook explains. You want to bang your head on the table because Jungkook is a little bit of a mama’s boy. That’s the only fault he has, that he always defends his mother like she is a saint. “ Please baby, for me” Jungkook begs you, pouting like Soobin.

“ Ugh, fine,” you get up putting your things in the sink not having the appetite. “ When are we going to see her?” You ask already dreading it.

Jungkook gets up hugging you from behind, trying to kiss your lips but you are stubborn continuing washing the dishes. He settles for your cheeks kissing them. “ Next weekend.” You mentally groan.

…

The day prior to visiting your in-laws you went to the butcher and asked for the best cut of beef and got a couple pounds of that. Along with expensive health vitamins because you know your father-in-law loves them. You still are dreading to go, Jungkook holds the groceries as you carry Hyerin and hold Soobin hand. The door immediately opens and your mother-in-law goes towards Jungkook hugging and kissing him. “ You look so thin! Are you not being fed?” And you want to roll your eyes because it sounds like a jab to you. She looks at you specifically.

Jungkook rubs your back in comfort. “ No…Mom I’ve been eating well, we all have,” Jungkook says.

She looks down and sees Soobin holding your hand and she picks him up. “ How’s my baby Soobin, I saw you last month but you gotten so big already,” She kisses him. Soobin explains to her that he has been eating a lot of rice and vegetables so that’s why he got so big.

Jungkook laughs and takes Soobin from her arms not wanting his mom’s back to hurt from carrying his weight. “ Look at Hyeri she’s gotten big too,” Jungkook points to Hyeri while she hides into your neck still shy.

“ Oh she is big and so pretty too like a flower! Come to grandma,” she immediately takes her from your arms. You follow inside the house and you hope it is not too long you guys have to stay here.

You play with your children outside as they chase the dog. Hyeri in your arms and your father-in-law talks about the crops with you. He says his growing tomatoes this season because he knows how much you and Soobin like tomatoes you smile thanking him. “ Y/n! I need your help bring Hyeri with you ! ” your mother-in-law calls from the inside the house. You look for Jungkook because you don’t trust yourself alone with her but he is preoccupied by fixing his Father’s garden tool.

“ Yes, mother, ” you ask while entering the kitchen.

“ Help me peel this,” she indicates to the vegetables on the counter.

You don’t mind helping but you don’t want Hyeri to be bored in the kitchen, “ Okay let me put Hyeri outside so she can play—”

“ No, she needs to learn how to prepare food for her husband,” she says sternly.

Your eye twitches because Hyeri is just a baby and she doesn’t need to worry about preparing food for her husband. You want to bite your tongue but you don’t, “ Okay let me bring Soobin, it’s not fair for Hyeri to just prepare food. He also needs to learn how prepare food for his husband or wife,” you say.

Her eyes widen, “ Y/n don’t you ever say stuff like that!” You don’t know which part got her mad. Soobin learning how to prepare food or that you don’t think heteronormative. She looks very angry and you don’t want to get into another fight.

“ Okay, fine. I’m sorry. We will help you cook.” You’ll apologize to Hyeri when she gets older, when she realizes why she could she never play with her brother at her grandma’s house. You help cook dinner and she tsk at you couple times when you don’t expertly cut vegetables like her. Hyeri looks at you cook and you give her piece of carrot to chew on.

Dinner is finally ready and you set the table, and your father-in-law takes a bite of the meat and exclaims. “ Y/n, this is really good ! You know how to pick out high quality,” he tells you. Soobin is on his lap and he feeds him as well. “ How’s work? I always brag to my friends that my daughter is the best pediatric surgeon,” he says.

You laugh, “ Works been really good. I recently did heart surgery on an five year old, it was successful.” You say happily.

Jungkook smiles rubbing your shoulder, “ That’s my girl.”

“ So when do you plan on quitting and staying at home with your children? Jungkook also went to university and got his degree. He should not have to let his degree go to waste,” your mother-in-law speaks condescending.

“ Mom we talked about this,” Jungkook says. “ Y/n and I agreed that she will work and I will take care of the kids. Plus I love spending all day with children. Once both of the kids enter primary school I’ll look into my career.”

“ What about Soobin and Hyeri they are going to be confused,” she explains more.

You are getting frustrated. “ Then I’ll explain to them that there’s nothing wrong about breaking gender norms,” you say.

“ I hope Hyeri isn’t going to be like you. You are headstrong—”

Jungkook interrupts, eyebrows furrowed, “ Mom—”

“ Well then fine. I’ll teach her to be the ‘ perfect woman’. She’ll serve her husband and make sure his food is ready at a certain time. Education? Why would she need it if shes just going to be cleaning and obeying her husbands order,” you say sarcastically state getting up from your seat and walking towards outside. You hear them call your name but you ignore them seeking silence. You watch the stars outside and sniffle a little. Not wanting to let your emotions come over you.

Jungkook looks at his mother in disappointment, “ Y/n is my everything and I don’t appreciate you talking to her like that. She’s works hard at everything she does and I look up to her. I hope Hyeri becomes just like her,” Jungkook says in a stern voice. He walks out to talk to you and notices your slumped shoulders.

“ Y/n,” Jungkook gently calls your name, his hands are carefully placed on your shoulder. “ I’m sorry. Let’s go home,” he says hugging you. You don’t know why he’s apologizing maybe because he put you in this situation in the first place. You bid your goodbyes bowing in apology for letting your anger get out of control. You and Jungkook don’t talk for the rest of the way home. You don’t feel like talking anyways, too exhausted mentally.

…

You feel someone gently rubbing your arm and you wake up. Jungkook gives you small smile, “ Good morning, love.” Rubbing your eyes you look at the alarm clock and see that it’s eleven o’clock. Your head is still pounding from the after effects of yesterday.

You try getting up quickly but Jungkook calms you down. “ Shit, I woke up late. I’m sorry you were supposed to rest on the weekends,” you groan. On the weekends you make breakfast giving Jungkook a break from cooking and getting the kids ready for the day.

“ Don’t apologize. You’re fine. Kids are already fed and playing outside.” Jungkook kisses your forehead. “ About yesterday…” he caresses your hair.

You close your eyes briefly before speaking, “ I’m sorry. I overreacted and I know you’re mom is old fashioned—”

“ No you didn’t overreact. You were standing up for yourself. Being old fashioned doesn’t give her any reason to be rude to you,” Jungkook speaks softly. “ And if any of our children become like you, I would be very happy because you are wonderful person.” You’re in shock because he usually makes excuses for his mom but not this time.

“ Thank you,” you say in a whisper. Leaning up you kiss him softly immediately feeling better. Pulling his arms, you grab him so he can lay with you on the bed. He chuckles when you scoot closer to him, your face in his neck nuzzling into him. “ And if anytime you want to go back to work just tell me. We can put the kids in day care or I can take a break…”

“ I love taking care of our children. I rather take care of them sending them to daycare. Plus, I get to make my lovely wife food,” Jungkook says trailing his fingertips on your back. “ I got it all under control and I think I’m the best house husband,” Jungkook cockily states.

Laughing you pull away staring at his face, he has a cute smirk on and you kiss it. “ And the hottest,” you add on.

“ Wow out of all the amazing qualities I have you only compliment me on my hotness,” Jungkook playfully speaks.

“ And you have the biggest cock,” you cough, “ I mean biggest heart.” His hands immediately pinched your butt and you yelp loudly then laughing.

His hands grab your ass squeezing them roughly, “ Just wait till the kids are asleep. Imma destroy that pretty mouth of yours,” Jungkook says lowly. In the mood you go to kiss him and Jungkook can immediately tell by the way your eyes darken. But he gets up immediately, “ Nope not right, I promised Soobin to play dragon versus knight.”

You get up stretching and looking outside from the window. The weather is nice and you want to play with them too, “I’ll join you guys,” you ask as you put on your shorts. Jungkook holds your hand as you guys walk out to the fresh air.