#he has tentacles coming out of a huge crack on his head

[lycorisicecream]

Irodoru, a stickman/stickfigure OC

[uncookedfeeler]

Cok's adventure II 🐙

Giselle x You

Tags : 7k5, Idol Giselle, story, smut, creature kink, anal, creampie, oral, breed, domination, ...

Part 1 Part 3

As the night goes on, the sirens of police and emergency services are still ringing in the city, where journalists are now swarming around the building, trying to get as much information as possible. Giselle is waiting for her manager to arrive in a café a couple of blocks away. She's put her bags and package at her feet and is enjoying a vanilla cappuccino. She can hear the TV not far away, with a live report from a journalist covering the accident:

"This is Jin, a reporter for K-News." The mall just had its last customers leave. There was a loud noise nearby, and a huge cloud of smoke was still coming from the building. We don't have all the details yet, but we'll do our best to get them to you as soon as we can. We've been told that the emergency services are still refusing our interviews. Are they trying to cover something up? The journalist kept going with his report, even though she was there at the scene, the situation had happened so fast, and she didn't know any more than he did.

Giselle notices her phone is vibrating in her pocket. She checks her screen and sees several missed calls from Karina, plus a notification in their chat.

She knew she could count on her members when she got home, and they'd reached out with some comforting messages. However, her tough-girl image was starting to show some cracks. The day had been long and stressful, and she was feeling the effects. Giselle's mood has taken a bit of a turn for the worse. She used to enjoy her freedom and her little adventures on her own, but now she wishes she hadn't gone out today.

She looks relieved when she sees her manager come into the café. He comes over to get her bags, and Giselle, feeling a bit embarrassed, heads for the exit. She feels her manager's hand rubbing her back as a gesture of kindness.

The night is now more aggressive, sending waves of cold wind across the city and blowing Giselle's hair around. The cold air hits her face, still covered in makeup. She picked up the pace, eager to get to the car and find some shelter. She notices the lights on her manager's car are blinking, indicating it's unlocked. She puts her hand on the back door handle, tosses her purse into the middle seat, and gets in, fastening her seatbelt as she goes. She's eager to get home.

She hears the trunk open and her manager say, "Let me drop off your stuff, and we'll get going." "I'll be as quick as I can." The man's voice is reassuring. He puts the bags and package one behind the other, then runs over to the driver's seat.

You've been stuck in this black box for a while now, even though you can't see anything and your tentacles are all tangled up. You're calm and thinking about the best way to get out. You feel the vibrations of the ride and wait helplessly for what's to come.

The ride home is as quiet as a church. Giselle looks out the window and enjoys the light show. The manager, despite his best efforts, would rather focus on the road. He knows the member will find the right words. 

Once parked in the underground lot, the way to the dormitory is the same. Giselle leads the way, and her manager is busy with shopping. They get to a big white door. She opens the black box on the side, enters the 4-digit code, then closes it. You hear a small validation sound, and the lock releases. Giselle goes in first. She takes off her shoes, and her manager leaves her stuff at the entrance before heading back to the elevator. "Good night, Giselle. See you tomorrow. You've got the day off, so make the most of it!" he says after completing his mission. She quickly turns to thank him, a big smile on her face.

Now that she was barefoot, she put her shoes back where they belonged and opened the door to the main room. There she finds Karina sitting on the sofa and Ninging's body, clearly unconscious from exhaustion. The leader takes the initiative and comes to hug her, like a mother would comfort her child after a difficult event.

There's no need to say anything. Both women enjoy the moment of silence. Karina is relieved to see that her colleague is unharmed. Giselle is happy to be home. They spent a good two minutes rubbing each other's backs before they heard Winter come back from the doorway.

"The food is here!" the young girl announces, her hands full of plastic bags. She'd gone downstairs a while before Giselle got there to start cooking dinner. Karina and Winter get the food ready while Giselle takes her things back to her room. She quickly put her stuff away and went back to the living room. Ningning was brought back to life successfully when the young woman caught a smell of food filling her nostrils.

After dinner, the girls enjoyed the food and Giselle's spirits lifted for a moment. She was able to forget what had happened that day. It was well past midnight, and the girls were heading to their rooms to get some rest.

Speaking of privacy, when Giselle returns to her room, she decides to change into her pajamas. She removes her clothes, including her underwear, and puts on a long white t-shirt that reaches to her knees. Her two large mounds hug the shape of the clothing, and her anal plug is still firmly lodged in her small asshole. 

Now she turns her attention to the package that caused her so much trouble. She grabs the scissors on her desk and begins to open it with a vertical motion. As the employee said, the package has already been opened, so there are only a few pieces of tape holding it in place.

You've finally had a chance to see the light. The room is warm and bright, and the light hits your eyes. You catch a hint of a sweet smell as it wafts in towards your nostrils. You come face to face with a human with black hair, big brown eyes, and perfect skin. Her lips are painted a pretty pink, and her skin is white like the flash of a light. As soon as you lock eyes, you freeze, suddenly aware of where you are. It's likely that the Humans have already killed one of your own, and there's no reason to believe they won't do the same to you.

"Wow, so cute" Giselle says as she looks at you and quickly picks you up to put you on the ground keeping her eyes on you the whole time. She had a pretty good idea of what to expect from an octopus and never thought she'd get such a pretty toy. Octopuses aren't the most attractive creatures, but when she sees your little round head, black eyes, and mouth, she can't help but think of you as a little puppy.

She opens it by touching your tentacles. Much to her surprise, she feels your warmth in her hands. The gelatinous yet firm feeling is pretty addictive. She places her fingers on your suction cups and feels how strong they are. The pleasure of touching you now makes her feel good, so she puts her lips on your head, and you don't seem to mind. Instead, she follows up with a quick flick of her tongue, releasing a sweet but not unpleasant taste into her mouth. 

She starts by putting two of your tentacles in her mouth. The contact of her lips and tongue makes you quiver inside. The sensation of moisture at your tips is a pleasure you've never experienced before. Then you feel more tentacles on her warm body. Soon you're completely used by the human.

You're still immobile, and you're starting to worry about the attacks on your body. The fact that she's started putting her lips on you and even biting your head makes you think she's going to eat you. Then you feel your body being lifted and you land in a soft, comfortable place.

Giselle has taken the liberty of placing you on her bed. "I think it must be hidden over there," she says, peering between your tentacles. She notices a crack and gets really concerned. "What?" "I can't believe they sent me the female model!" She starts to touch your "bottom." 

"What on earth is this person doing? Why is she putting her hands so close to...?" 

Your excitement causes your penis to jerk out from between your tentacles. You feel vibrations running from the middle to the tip of your tentacles.

"Oh my, that looks so much like the real thing!" Giselle's eyes widen and she blushes. She's got the penis of a space creature in front of her, and she has no idea. She uses her hand as a measuring tool and assesses it with interest. "Oh my goodness!" "It's probably going to reach my uterus with ease."

Things have escalated quickly. Just a few moments ago, you thought you were in serious danger. Now, a human has just pulled your dick. You feel her breath on the tip. You're frozen in place, realizing what's going on. You don't see the human, but you get a few jolts and a sensation of moisture around your cock. It touches something that looks like a tentacle. It's itchy, and the heat and moisture of your cock make you feel warm and relaxed.

Giselle had taken your cock in her mouth without you noticing. She started with gentle kisses on the tip and then took the length into her mouth. Her tongue traced the length of your shaft, tasting the natural flavor of your arousal. Giselle gave it her all, already reaching for her pussy, naked as could be.

Giselle inserts a finger into her wet little hole and forces her ass to move her butt plug, determined to get her satisfaction. It's a great feeling to have both holes taken care of. She keeps going with your cock, and thick drops of saliva stick to it.

On the other hand, you found the pleasure increasingly difficult to bear. You never thought something like this could happen in your life. You felt the human's hands take your tentacles and wrap them in two spheres of flesh. She squeezes your tentacles with her hands, and you hear her moan. One of your tentacles is pulled to the ground before you feel a sticky warmth at the tip.

Giselle was letting off some steam after a long day. She'd wrapped her toy cock around both of her breasts. Her previous sucking had made the shaft quite slimy, which helped as she massaged the cock while licking the tip hungrily. One of the tentacles kept going into her pussy. She could feel the suction of the cups peeling her walls back, and a nasty stain had appeared on the floor. The room was getting warmer as Giselle pressed her breasts against your cock, making sure to put more saliva on your length. She dropped to her knees and jumped up a few times, feeling the tentacles breaking into her hungry little pink pussy.

The pleasure was overwhelming. You felt like you were floating on a cloud, and you released your cum without knowing where it would land. You automatically grabbed Giselle's head, pulling her closer. Your penis hit a wall that you couldn't identify. Giselle is taken aback when she suddenly sees the cock piercing her throat, her breasts squeezed between her and her toy, her pussy sweating warmly, leaving an incessant liquid on the floor. The pleasure is too sudden, and her body tenses before she drowns in her orgasm. She feels the spasms of her body travel as long as she is held by the creature.

You know you messed up. You've kept a poker face the whole time, but you can't help but feel pleasure. Once you've let go of the human's head, though your cock is still hard, you straighten up to face her.

Giselle was caught off guard by the taste and smell of the substance, and before she knew it, she'd swallowed some of it. She sensed that something was amiss. No toy is designed to trap its user in this way. She backed away from the bed, cum all over her face, and a feeling of dread hit her as she came into contact with her new "toy."

She was at a loss as to how to react. There was an octopus on her bed, standing upright with a terrified look on its face. The tentacles were almost touching her face, as if to protect themselves. She stood there for a few minutes, naked, her face covered in cum, her breasts reddened, and her pussy hot and lubricated. 

You're standing in front of the human, ready to defend yourself if you need to. You don't speak their language and you're not sure where you are. Your only option for survival is to escape, but you know you're trapped in this room without looking. Then, right in the middle of your confusion, the human reaches out to you. Her expression is firm but not threatening. If you were in her shoes, you'd probably use your advantage, but the human doesn't seem to be going down that route. You're not sure what her gesture means, but you extend one of your tentacles toward her and make contact, aware of the risks if she catches you.

(Yes this image exist for some reason)

Your eyes are still locked together. You can feel the softness of her hand on your tentacle, then she gently applies pressure to bind you, moving up and down. She smiles and lets go of your tentacle to come over to the bed. She's just a few inches away from you. Her body blocks the light from the ceiling. You slowly bring your tentacles towards you, being careful not to make any sudden movements.

She's trying to communicate. You hear her say "Gis-elle" while pointing at her face with her hand. This isn't the first time you've come across other species that can speak. You know that people have names, and through repeated movements and words, you've come to understand that her name is "Giselle." You also try to imitate Giselle's gestures: "Cok, cok, cok." You do this a few more times, pointing your tentacles at your face.

Giselle, on the other hand, quickly realized that your name was Cok. "What am I going to do with you now?" "You don't look like the octopus I see at the market sometimes, and the fact that you can talk doesn't make my job any easier." "You just played a dirty trick on me. My body is stained with your semen, so I guess a shower is necessary now. Don't worry, water shouldn't scare you." 

You don't understand what Giselle is saying, but she comes closer and picks you up before putting you back in her bag. Once again, you find yourself in a dark place, your erection notwithstanding. You always hope that nothing will happen to you.

Giselle, who has put her T-shirt back on, opens her bedroom door with her bag under her arm and heads to the bathroom. She makes sure the room is empty before opening her bag.

You feel Giselle's hands emerge from the darkness, and you discover a new environment that's even brighter than the last one. Even though you don't understand a word she's saying, she still gives you a quick overview of the place. "Welcome to our bathroom. Across from us is a shower and a jacuzzi. The sinks are to your left. "You'll find our toilets tucked away to the right." She goes over everything in the bathroom and points. You follow her with your eyes, even though you're still a bit confused.

She puts you down by the sink, and you watch as she tosses your semen-soaked t-shirt into a bucket. Then she heads over to the spot she calls the "Jacuzzi" and bends over to turn on the water, showing you her butt plug she left at "home" along the way. She gives you a signal to follow her by pointing at you as she steps into the jacuzzi. As you crawl towards her and finally plunge into the water, a haze of warmth fills the room.

"Ah, that feels good," she says with a smile. You have to agree; the sensation of swimming in this warm water is very pleasant. You see her look at you and smile, and you feel her hand on her head as she rubs it gently. 

You notice Giselle looking at you and feel her feet rubbing against your leg. Each time she makes contact, she immediately pulls her foot back, but she keeps coming back for more. She gives a little smile that you can't miss. "mhh-hhh" You hear her making little whimpering sounds, and it's your turn to gently caress her toes, making sure to get your tentacles between each one. Her toes are clinging to you, and you're not sure what her hands are doing. 

You then dip your head into the water and watch in surprise as two tiny fingers rub against her pretty pussy. You see them go into her body and then immediately come back out again. She speeds up the rhythm, and you realize you're no longer feeling pressure on your tentacles. This allows you to move up her legs as you bring your head closer to her perfectly smooth pussy, which is just a few inches away from your face.

"Not so sweet so fast my dear, let me savor you first" You see her suddenly stand up and lean towards you, her breasts right in front of you, her nipples still hard. Up close, you realize how beautiful they are. She spreads her legs while bending her knees and comes to lay her dirty pussy on your head. She rubs lightly against you and continues to pound her cunt with her fingers. "Oh, ah, I'm coming," Giselle says. A bit more pressure is applied to your skull, with her slit rubbing against you as her fingers play with her little clit above the entrance.

Her legs suddenly spasm, and you feel a rush of water hit your head and body. It's clear that the source is her red, quivering pussy. "Wow, that feels great," she says, her eyes full of desire. She's now sitting up, her legs feeling a bit wobbly. She's aware of what she's doing and the show she's putting on, and she sees your hard cock. She wants to use her toy right now, too. She's so caught up in her ecstasy that she doesn't care what you look like. She just wants a good fuck to bring her back to earth.

Giselle puts her hands behind her back and hears a "poc" as she removes her toy from her ass. You can see her face twitch with pleasure as she takes her partner out of her hole and places him in a small bowl next to the jacuzzi. She turns around to show you her backside, and you get a close-up of her freshly spread ass and her little pussy, still waiting to be loved. She uses her left hand to spread her hole, revealing all of her warm flesh as she points at the entrance repeatedly.

You can tell when a female is in heat, no matter what species. Giselle is releasing pheromones that indicate she's ready for male attention. That's all she needs, and without further ado, you make a swim towards her, climb up her legs and point your rod at her backside. Your tentacles squeeze her buttocks while you linger on both of her breasts. Not content with this lack of attention, the last one goes to her mouth, which you don't fail to penetrate. You're there, in possession of a human body, ready to fill her with your entire being.

"Cok cok cok cok cok" you hear your name as you tease her by rubbing your cock against her entrance, but this was a mistake. Giselle, who takes your cock in her hand and puts it in her ass herself, screams as you come hard against her ass. “Ohhh fuck, it’s big” Giselle's insides are warm and welcoming around your cock as you thrust into her ass. You start thrusting back and forth, harder and harder. “Mhhh-mhh more” she cries, your combined movements cause the water to shake as you satisfy your new mistress. You feel her tongue around your tentacle, trying to give you the best suck she can. You also pinch her breasts while playing with her nipples. You give her an ass-slapping rhythm to match her bouncing buttocks.

"More, more, more!" Giselle moans, lost in pleasure. She reverts to a simple primate, in need of pleasure. Her head is thrown back as you grab her hair and pull her towards you. The force of your bodies hitting each other leaves red marks on her buttocks. You move on to her stiff breasts and push into her still-wet pussy with a sharp thrust. Giselle ends up being double penetrated.

The noise in the room is getting louder by the second, and Giselle is losing all her self-control. She's on her hands and knees, her breasts pressed against the edge of the jacuzzi. She's being mistreated by her new toy; You don't let go, every time you pull her hair, she tightens around your cock: "Harder, hurt me, baby". She gives everything, the frenzy of your bodies increases, the heat in the room is at its peak. Her ass has become your sheath and your masculinity belongs to her.

While you ravage her ass, your tentacles take care of her dripping pussy, you come slamming against these walls while repeating circular movements, the tips are compressed to the extreme, this bitch has cum several times already, when you remove your tentacles, her fluid explodes from her slit before going back in again and again.

The thrusts are getting stronger and stronger as you feel the release coming. Her pussy fills the water again, and you feel Giselle's body go in one last thrust. Then you grab her hair in two spots and thrust as far as you can into her. You feel immense pleasure as you release all your cum into her conquered hole.

As you let go of her hair, you fall backwards, hitting the water with a small splash. When you return to the surface, Giselle is still in the same position, looking like she's waiting for anything to happen. You can see your cum coming out of her ass and sliding down her body, and her little pussy is lightly covered in your seed, which falls into the water. Your cock is now completely dry and fully retracted behind your slit.

The water is covered in semen and Giselle's wetness as they float on the surface of the jacuzzi. You hear her ass spew your cum in waves with obscene noises, then Giselle turns around, her arms slumped on the side of the jacuzzi. Her hair is a mess, and her body is covered with the marks left by your lovemaking.

You can't see Giselle's eyes, hidden by her hair, and you're waiting for her next reaction. You stand there staring at each other in an awkward silence. It's not forever, though, because you hear a knock on the door. "Giselle, I need to use the toilet," you hear her say. Of course, you can't understand, but you quickly grasp the situation when you see Giselle's panic-stricken face. 

"I'll be ready in two minutes. I'll just rinse off and get out," says Giselle, taken aback. As she presses the button to drain the water from the Jacuzzi, she grabs you by the tentacles and heads for the shower, bumping into you on the ledge as she goes. "Don't be a princess. I've already seen you naked. I'm going to pee myself," she says as the door opens. You find yourself behind the curtain, restrained by Giselle's arms around her stomach.

You feel the hot water fall on your bodies as you're held back by Giselle. Her breasts press against your head, and you feel her breathing quicken. "You were totally fine showing me your butt plug in the dressing room, and now you're afraid I'll see you naked?" a woman says now sitting on the toilet, the sound of the shower masking that of the toilet.

“Shut up and hurry away, I'd like to dry off and...” Giselle feels your semen leaking from her ass again, which startles her. She knows the water won't cover the leaking on her leg. She looks at you and, with her hands, mimes her anus and the other finger, asking to plug it up. You use your tentacles to come and penetrate your anus and her … pussy

She's always happy to have her holes well occupied, but Giselle trembles at the presence of your tentacles inside her. Your communication still isn't perfect, but you've done what she asked. You feel the liquid trying to get out at the tip of your tentacle. Now that she's in the shower, Giselle takes the opportunity to wash her body and hair. You now stand alone at her waist with your tentacles around her, keeping the two of them warm deep in those caves. She watched Karina finish her business and leave the room after washing her hands at the sink. "Good night, Giselle," she said as she closed the door. Giselle had noticed that Karina was wearing only her panties.

The danger is now gone, so you pull your tentacles back while still holding on to Giselle. You slide down until you touch the ground, "You bastard, you've filled me well. Even my pussy hurts." Of course, she knows you don't understand. She moves her legs closer to you again, and you feel a warm liquid fall on her head. "Here, this will teach you to take me for your bitch."

Giselle had just pissed in your face. You frown and whip her lower legs with a tentacle. All the while laughing. She approaches you and rubs you with a soft ball that quickly foams. The rubbing sensation is pleasant, and Giselle works hard to rub it all over your body. Although you still can't communicate verbally, you feel like you're doing pretty well with this woman. It's hard to picture her as a threat now that she's let you take a "dominant role". Once the shower's over and she shows you how to use a hairdryer, she doesn't even put you back in her bag. She holds you in her arms at stomach level.

The quiet click of her bedroom door means you're safe again. Giselle turns down the lights in the room, the temperature is just right, and there's a nice smell of freshness from the shower. She'd changed into her pajamas, which were a loose-fitting T-shirt and pink shorts that let her lower body breathe. You stand on her bed and watch her brush her hair in front of the mirror.

Like her, you're tired from your journey. Sleep is one of your needs, unlike oxygen or food. Your body feels heavy and you sense that you're about to fall asleep. You feel a sudden motion on the bed as Giselle opens the blanket to slip into it. You're afraid of being crushed, so you shake your head no when she asks you to come closer. 

You fall asleep on the pillow next to your mistress like a little puppy. Giselle grabs one of your tentacles and inserts it into her ass. After all, she wouldn't want you to run away now. You lose consciousness, feeling a warm sensation at the tip.

.

.

Giselle starts to wake up as the sun comes through the curtains, painting shapes on the wall. She feels her limbs are pleasantly heavy, with a soft ache from the restless night spent with her unlikely new friend. She turns to her side and laughs softly. There he is, her toy, an octopus, sprawled across her pillow, his tentacles lazily dropping over the edge.

The faint sounds of footsteps and lights under her door indicated that her bandmates were still getting ready for their day's work. She was the only one with a day off; her next schedule is the following night. As she discreetly slips out of her bed, she feels your tentacle gradually withdrawing from the depths of her ass as she moves towards the door, stopping for her own pleasure along the way and taking advantage of the last few inches still inside her, she disappears from her room.

You are awakened by the light coming from Giselle's bedroom door. Your body is still resting on one of her pillows. Your tentacles are scattered all over the bed and floor. Two shadows suddenly appear in your pupils, not fully dilated. You struggle to recognize the people in front of you :"Wow, what's this, Giselle-Unni really has poor taste," a quiet voice lets out. "It's probably her new doll. Hurry, grab the tablet from the bedside table. We're going to be late."The second grumbles as she grabs the tablet herself.

As they leave the room, you can see Giselle in the distance under the hallway lights, "Giselle, when you take the tablet, remember to put it back in the living room, we need it for our challenge!" she says nothing and walks towards you, closing the door behind her.

"Good morning, sir. It looks like you slept well here," she says with a smile as the two of you are alone again. In the distance, you hear the front door slamming, which means the other humans have left.

With a flick of her wrist, she opens the curtains to let in the light, then goes to the other corner of her room to find her clothes. Her "pajamas" twirl around the room, revealing, to your surprise, her butt plug. She grabs you and carries you out of her room. You're now in what looks like the main room of her dormitory. From the height of the table, you can see your surroundings and are now at Giselle's bust height.

The silence is broken by a sound coming from Giselle's buttocks. She removes a device from it and brings it to her ear while sitting across from you.

"Yes, manager-nim..." The rest is hard to understand, since she had taken the malicious pleasure of coming to crush her two mounds on your head and caress one of your tentacles as if it were one of her strands of hair. The weight of her breasts exerts a gentle pressure on you. Her softness is a small cloud over your misery. 

In revenge, you come and squeeze her breasts through her clothes and take the time to insert one between in imitation of your big cock. Her face turns red; "In about how long?" she sighs. She pulls her clothes down to reveal her tiny nipples, which you must immediately attack with your tongue. It was already sensitive and hard in your mouth. "Mmmh, I'll w....ait for you..... then," you alternate between her nipples, one being devoured by your mouth while the other receives love from a tentacle. Her breathing stops and becomes irregular. The pleasure is intense but brief.

"See you in a minute," she says, putting her device down on the table. You had startedto get really serious, but she suddenly gets up and goes to her room, coming out with a handbag. She stares at you and says, "It's too risky to leave you here alone, we will finish this later" before shoving you into the bag with a mischievous smile on her lips.

Unlike the others, she has taken the liberty of leaving her bag open. You see a variety of sights and sounds. A spectacle of sensations unfolds before you. From time to time she turns her gaze to you, a slight smile on her lips, and you watch it interact with her own. You begin to decipher a few words and facial expressions.

The liberation comes as she puts her bag on her lap, unable to tell where you are. The close-up of her beautiful face is comforting. She brings her mouth to her bag and mumbles, "Hey stupid, I'm still wet from earlier. She pulls back and starts massaging your between-tentacles so you understand what's going on when she decides to take your tentacle out of her bag and slide it under her skirt.

You don't need her help to know what comes next: the capricious one has made sure to tuck her bag under her skirt. Your work as a miner has begun. Make your way to her watery cave. On your way to the rare loot are her panties. You rub them lovingly, already smelling the foul stain on them. It doesn't take you long to hold them up and pull them apart, while your colleagues take care of the rest.

The attack begins when you slide three of them in and feel her body vibrate. The passage is narrow and she resists you. You begin to rub violently against her walls and tickle her insides. You continue inside her until you come up against a wall. From then on it's impossible to go any further and she crushes you with a pelvic thrust. You slowly pull out of her and give way to another group of three; it becomes a game and her pussy a real amusement park.

For her part, Giselle is subjected to your repeated attacks as someone approaches: "5 more minutes and the director will see you". She takes a firm stance in front of the secretary, closing her legs as tightly as possible.

You feel her pussy tremble more and more with each thrust; you know her orgasm will be big and that it's close. Since she's in public, you're the only one who can satisfy her immediately, so your decision to step back, this slut deserves a good punishment. Without seeing her face, you can tell she's frustrated with the way she's rubbing her legs; her panties are completely soaked, not to mention where she's sitting. No doubt she's stained him with her love juice.

At Cok's mercy at this moment, Giselle takes it upon herself and is soon approached by one of her managers, she was in her company's building to talk about yesterday's incident as she was seen leaving the building when it was evacuated.She picks up her bloody bag and follows her manager to the director's office making sure to turn off your light as she closes her bag, clearly offended by your actions.You lose track of time as you fall asleep next to her.

When you regain consciousness, you're back in Giselle's room. It's as quiet as a graveyard, with the sun's rays streaming down the slope and fresh air coming in through the window. You're definitely alone in the room. You've never had a moment to yourself. Always in the company of Giselle or at the bottom of a bag... You already know the bed. You slip off the foot of the bed and fall to the floor. You slide to the center of the room and scan your surroundings again. You notice writing on the ceiling that you recognize: "6:48... 6:49 PM...".

On your right, glued to her bed, is a desk, which you climb over and find yourself in front of a book with the name GISELLE inscribed on it, as well as the technological object the other humans took this morning, but in a different color. With a simple touch, you press the object, which lights up and symbols appear. In the same way, you open the book, which seems to provide knowledge of her language, and the technological object allows you to listen to it. This is your way to learn Giselle's language, but despite your abilities, it's going to take some time.

The clock is ticking and there's still no word from Giselle. You concentrate on your task and try to assimilate as much knowledge as possible. The words make sense and your first sentences are still close to a newborn's speech. The slamming of the front door wakes you up and your instincts tell you to return to your position on Giselle's bed, motionless as a statue. In your panic, you've left the tablet and book open.

You hear footsteps approaching Giselle's room and quickly relax as the door opens to reveal her in an all-black skintight outfit. "Are you awake, you bastard? I needed to spend my nerves at the gym," she says, even though you've seen her before. Her body is truly a work of art!

Her eyes devour you completely, her walk is full of confidence, she approaches the bed and stops in front of it, her scent catches your nostrils, but it's not the scent that disturbs you, it's the "aura" she's been radiating since she entered the room.

Giselle reeks of sex, her whole body oozes those pheromones, those of a woman in heat, ready to be filled, the fact that you left her hungry earlier must have awakened her appetite and when you look at her, you know she's very hungry. Without delay, she lifts her top with her left hand, exposing her breasts and you notice the teeth marks on her nipples. Her right hand pulls down her leggings to reveal her sweet, freshly shaved pussy; a trickle of wetness still binds her slit to her clothing and her lips are scarlet red.

As she removes her top, she jumps onto the bed to take you in her arms and place your crotch on her slit, licking your body as she moves her pelvis, causing both your sexes to rub against each other. You are devoured by this lioness. 

Her breasts are pressed against your mouth and you take the opportunity to suck on her nipples. Your tentacles try to get into her ass, but it's already busy: "No, no, tonight it's all in my pussy," she says, shaking her head.

The friction between your sexes is driving your arousal into overdrive, and your penis is more than ready to come out. Your tentacles had encircled Giselle's body, squeezing you together as each gave pleasure to the other. Giselle's nipples are now marked with your mouth. You feel the tip of your penis quivering at the entrance to her pussy. The rubbing of your sexes creates wet noises that echo around the room.

Giselle can't wait any longer, her pussy needs love and her sperm bakery is more than eager to have its first customers. She lies on her back and spreads her legs, leaving full view of her hungry hole. “Come, Cok, turn me into an octopus slut,” you line up and with a quick thrust, you penetrate her vagina, while you're immediately surrounded by her legs, who intends to feel you deep inside her. “Ohhhhh, say hello to my uterus!”

Frenzy overtakes them both as Giselle wiggles, hoping to reach a deeper place, your cock like a drill inside her. Her walls envelop you tenderly as you ram her with all your might: “More, Cok, fuck meeeeeee, kiss my womb”. You wrap your tentacles around her legs, spreading them wide to give you a full view of where you're lovingly fucking her

“Cumiiiinng, ahhh” cries Giselle as the pressure around your sex sends you skyward and allows you to shoot your first well-deserved load into her. Her juices try to expel themselves from her vagina, but your big cock acts as a seal and your juices mix while hitting her lust-filled walls. “Oh ohh, so hott, your cum is burning me from the inside!, i want more seed”

Far from satisfied, she lies on her stomach to show you both her plump buttocks and the glow of her butt plug as your cum drips from her pussy. She pushes it aside and lets you admire the havoc wreaked by your cock and then with all her carnal lust she says, "Honey, come and plug my wicked leak, we have all night so make sure to fill me again and again" as she wiggles her buttocks.

At a glance, you read “9:13 PM”. Then you move towards her open hole, taking your time to let her feel your thickness. As you push back into her vagina, making contact with her uterus, she cries out in pleasure: “Ohhh, it's finally here, hit me hard, my ovary want to meet lots of your baby seeds”. You feel the perspiration on her body as you strike her ass with your tentacles. Your thrusts go further and further and your “belly” comes to touch her buttplug. Grabbing her hair, you pull her towards you and increase the pace as you feel her repeated orgasms attack your cock. You watch the juices flow out of her as you pull back before returning with a hard thrust, ready for your second load of the evening. You make sure you come to plaster your tip on her womb and, in a final strike, you grab her by the throat and rip her womb open to spill your cum. “Oh oh oh, bredd me Cok!”, you feel your cum flood her insides as some of it comes out while the other remains more stuck deep inside her baby oven.

— 9:48PM 

Giselle straddles you as you pound her bouncing breasts, your clit attacked by your tentacles as you send another load her way. Semen drips onto the bed, mixed with her fluids.

— 10:32PM 

Her screams never stop, you can see her talent as a singer. She has orgasm after orgasm, her pussy still filled with hot cum that warms the inside of her belly. You don't stop when you reach your fourth orgasm.

— 11:17PM 

Both of your exhausted bodies are still at it as she lies on her back again, each of your limbs wrapped around the other; your cock hasn't left her pussy since the orgasm, her body covered in tentacle marks and kisses. Her hard breasts are now in Giselle's mouth as she tries to suck her own milk while her cunt is served by your monstrous rod. You know there won't be another tonight, so you come with your tentacle and remove her butt plug and thrust your tentacle deep into her: "oh. .. mhh... more. breed me." Giselle is unable to form a sentence, her whole body shaking as she surrenders to the pleasure.

— 11:27PM

The front door slams as the group returns to the dorm, but you're both too busy to notice. Giselle's screams echo through her room and it's clear that she's struggling, no doubt heard throughout the apartment. Entering Giselle's room, Karina sees her lying with the blanket over her. "ah ahh, so.rry-unn.ie," she says with considerable struggle. Karina sighs. "Hurry up and finish, you start in a few hours and keep the volume down, the others can hear you like theyre watching TV," Karina says with a sigh. She slams the door. 

Meanwhile, you continued to penetrate her, Giselle's legs trembled with pleasure, she had exceeded her limits. "Cok, cok, cok, one more, I want your baby so badly, I want you to conquer my womb, make me your wife," she said, tears in her eyes, far from sadness. Her body no longer knows how to respond to these emotions, but you intend to grant her wish: your sixth charge is your last. Her walls are smooth now, each orgasm comes to squeeze you, then her pussy opens again on your cock. Your cum still drips from her as you prepare to fill her again.

— 11:59PM

As the day draws to a close, you flood Giselle's octopus oven with your cum. Her pussy has become your baby factory. After several hours of effort, you finally pull out. Just then her last orgasm arrives and a stream of juice spills onto her bed. Her cunt is wide open and you see her walls covered with your seed and her well-fed womb.

Giselle lies inert on her bed, her belly full of semen and her head full of stars. It takes her a while to find the strength to get up and look at the damage to her body and bed. As she approaches you, she places a loving kiss on your cock, tasting her own pussy juices. She comes up to you to kiss you and says, "Thanks, Daddy," while touching her belly. You reply in near perfect Korean: "You're welcome, Ms. Cok".

______________________________________________________________

🐙

[cactusmisslittle]

Hehehe a little ficlet to accompany this! Grazilaxx/Sloopidoop (that is one hell of a ship goddamn), very suggestive

The soft glow of bioluminescent mushrooms refracted off of Grazilaxx's skin in cool blues as it prepared the summoning circle, carefully drawing sigils on the stone ground with the blood coating its fingers. It eyed its handywork, tentacles twitching slightly as it ensured everything was correct. Once satisfied, it wiped its hands with a cloth and looked up. The slit in its black robe rode up its thigh when it shifted its weight, revealing a garter, and Sloopidoop shivered.

"Well? Are you coming?" Grazilaxx tilted its head back impatiently, only to scoff at Sloopidoop's eagerness when he scurried into the circle alongside it.

"You're sure it will hold?"

Grazilaxx made an irritated clicking noise. The circle was small, and in order to fit them both inside, Sloopidoop had to press his back against Grazilaxx's chest. He could feel the soft fabric of its robe against his skin, the tips of its tentacles barely grazing over the top of his head.

"I have done this more times than I can count, and there has never been a problem. You will be safe as long as you stay inside the circle."

With me, was the unspoken implication. Sloopidoop nodded and let out a slow exhale, trusting Grazilaxx implicitly. Grazilaxx began to chant, and Sloopidoop winced at the harsh Abyssal tongue. The sigils and text on the ground glowed a deep pink, overshadowing the light from the mushrooms, and lifted up into the air. The cave grew dark, the glowing symbols now the only source of light, and even with Sloopidoop's darkvision, he couldn't make out anything more than a foot in front of his face. Subconsciously, he leaned back into Grazilaxx, relaxing a little when he felt a familiar, wiry hand rest on his arm.

As quickly as it came, the darkness dissipated, leaving behind a huge crow-like creature with a long neck, knobby arms, and cruel eyes. A vrock. His heart jumped into his throat and he instinctively reached for a weapon, but Grazilaxx squeezed his arm to stop him.

"It cannot cross the circle. And even so, an individual vrock is far weaker than when in a group. Even you could probably defeat it." It was the closest thing to comfort Grazilaxx was capable of, and Sloopidoop recognized the attempt for what it was.

Sloopidoop sighed, willing his hand to drop back to his side. "Will you tell me about them?" he asked.

"I suppose." Grazilaxx's tentacles curled around Sloopidoop's head, obviously without it realizing what it was doing. "The biggest threat with vrocks is their Dance of Ruin. It requires a minimum of three, but it can cause unspeakable devastation."

Sloopidoop was aware of Grazilaxx talking, but was quickly distracted by the cool tentacles on his skin. Not because he was afraid, though he knew most would be. This was, after all, the perfect angle for Grazilaxx to crack into his skull. But instead, his focus was captured by the smooth texture, the the way they almost hugged his skull. How would they feel elsewhere... Sloopidoop halted that thought before it could go any further, but from the way the tentacles tightened around him, it seemed it was too late. Sloopidoop tensed, awaiting the inevitable harsh reaction, but Grazilaxx didn't say a word. The vrock dissipated into thin air and Grazilaxx turned Sloopidoop around so that they faced each other. Sloopidoop's mouth parted, and Grazilaxx's thumb rested on his lower lip.

"Your interest in my studies are not strictly academic." It was a statement, not a question, and Sloopidoop felt his face grow warm.

"Grazilaxx, I don't..." Sloopidoop looked up at Grazilaxx, embarrassment simmering under his skin. "Don't misunderstand, I truly am interested in your research. I just..."

Grazilaxx's tentacles drifted down to frame Sloopidoop's face. "So it is my fault for distracting you, then?" it asked, amused.

"Well..." Yes, Sloopidoop's inner thoughts screamed, You know fully well what you are doing to me! But he didn't dare say those thoughts out loud, even as Grazilaxx's scoff clearly indicated that it could hear him loud and clear.

"I think you are being quite unfair." Grazilaxx's robe began to ride up its thigh, and Sloopidoop's breath hitched, his eyes glued to the hem.

"Am I?" he breathed. His vision swam and he could feel the soft caress of a tentacle against his cheek.

"Hm. This is all of your own creation, after all. And yet you try to blame it on me."

Sloopidoop groaned to himself as the world came back into focus. The gentle bioluminescence of the mushrooms was gone, replaced by the flickering candlelight of the lodge, where he sat alone in an armchair. He reached up to rub between his eyes and sighed. Damn, what was the matter with him?! Of all the people to be fantasizing about... He willed himself to ignore how hard he had become, instead picking up his book and flipping through the pages, agitated. The good thing was that he was the only one here. No one else had to know about his little... distraction, and he would ensure that it stayed that way.

[blackjackkent]

Heading into the first door on the left we get a small dining area that ties into the kitchen we saw before. Hector passed a quite gross perception check:

Yuck. What?

There's a ladder nearby that leads up into a series of catwalks so I sent Hector up to parkour around and see if we can find the source of the slime.

Aha.

There are slightly undulating purple mucus tentacles coming out of this cracked wall, and this location is now identified on the map as "Suspicious Sounds."

[sigh]

"We could just ignore it, you know," Hector says to me in my head, somewhat plaintively. "Maybe that's not my business. Remember the last time we broke through into a room with suspicious sounds? There was a bugbear and an ogre having sex, and I still haven't recovered from the sight."

"Shut up, Hector," I say cheerfully. "It's my liveblog, you're just living in it."

Hector sighs and peers into the wall.

Narrator: Through a narrow crack in the wall, you hear something shift against stone. The pulse of a crawling, living thing.

[ARCANA] Determine what it is.

Narrator: You can't quite catch a glimpse, but you recognize this feeling - the same alien presence you felt on the nautiloid.

Oh, this is such a terrible idea. But it's not the first time Hector's sense of curiosity has convinced him to do something ill-advised.

Reach in.

"You find anything, Hec?" Karlach calls from down the ladder.

"I'm...not sure..." Hector answers, squinting at the cracked stonework and undulating flesh. "I need to look closer...one moment."

"Hec, wait, I'm not sure that's a good--"

Narrator: Your awareness unfolds, expanding through every wall in the tower...every mind... A vast, living network, extending down into the dark...where something wakes...

Hector feels the shift of the situation just slightly too late to do anything about it, just as Karlach starts climbing the ladder to stop him, just as the Dream Guardian screams out in his mind--

"IT'S A TRAP!"

Narrator: Tendril's snap like iron cords around your wrist. That presence in your mind looms large, closer now.

The pain is immediate, his wrist captured and bent at an excruciating angle. He's dimly aware of Karlach shouting his name but he can for a moment think of nothing else but the agony and the sense of being watched by something huge and all-consuming.

For a moment panic rises in his gut - but his training and instinct is stronger.

[MONK][DEXTERITY] Twist your wrist to break the grip.

Narrator: With a soft sucking sound, your hand pulls free. The flesh within the wall retreats.

"What the fuck was that?" Karlach asks from behind him; she's crested the top of the ladder and has her sword out and is pointing it in the direction of the crack in the wall.

"I'm...not sure," Hector mutters hoarsely, trying not to look as shaken as he feels. "There's some kind of...creature living in there. Something...very big. A network of somethings, maybe."

"Under the circumstances," Gale comments from halfway up the ladder, "it would very much not surprise me if the tadpole network of interconnected minds is a much stronger and more, shall we say, material thing than we have been used to considering it. We should tread lightly."

"I think you're right," Hector says grimly. His right glove is coated in a strange black, oily substance that drips in viscous globs onto the catwalk. "Everyone be on your guard. And clearly any holes like this are dangerous."

"Hector," Shadowheart says wearily from ground level, "we could have all told you that before you stuck your hand in."

[butlerowl]

I've spent 5h drawing and probably 10h learning skeleton anatomy.

"The queen on his chessboard"

Slimy tentacle grabbed the chair nearby and smashed it into the wall. Nobody moved for good couple minutes, the atmosphere grew so suspenseful it felt wrong to even breathe. Eventually Nightmare turned his back on the other two in the room and gazed at the wall before him. It was full of photos, notes and long hand-written reports.

Taking an advantage of the quiet moment Dust handed Horror a small note. Crack-head looked up at his Boss one more time and trying his best to not disturb the quietness of the room, opened the little scrap of paper. Inside there were written just three letters 'K' 'C' 'E' and a biggish question mark.

Horror turned the note on the other side, but before he could even find something to write with, they heard a loud sigh before them. Neither realised that Nightmare had been secretly looking at them for a while now. "Killer has been sent to scout, but he got into trouble with this color-guy." Color and Killer together has never been good news for any of them, especially for Nightmare. "Cross completely changed sides now and is with Dream at the moment, similar to Error, with this whole truce of his." The glitch was known for fighting where it brings him more benefits, he didn't really pick sides. That Cross guy however he did what Nightmare told him to, because he was his last chance at the time, now that he had better options his betrayal wasn't unexpected.

"Are we doing anything about them?" Dust asked in a low voice, he'd never tell, but he was definitely afraid to anger him.

"..." He has once again turned his back to look at the wall, before he spoke. "You two aren't. We're stretched too thin for too much enemies, I'll go get Killer and we'll see next." As he said he started using his magic, as it turned out just a moment later, to create a portal for himself and jump out of this universal space. Horror and Dust were left all alone puzzled by the situation. They couldn't even ask any other question before he was gone, it was just as if he was in a hurry.

On the other side in some empty space that he was taken to Killer has been fighting Other's words out of his mind. "You're just his pawn Sans! Snap out of it." He has said as he dodged another hit of a knife.

His oponent stood up and looked at him, he was pissed. "Once again. I'm. Killer." He said in a serious metallic voice. Inside he has been begging to be out of here as soon as possible. And just like a wish come true, he's seen a dark mass forming not too far away from the place they've been at.

"Listen to me! You can reset now. Go back to how it was, to your brother." A delicate string has been pulled, Killer squeezed his hand on his weapon and attacked once again, Color defended himself by building a wall of bones between them.

He didn't answer this one. Maybe because he was right or perhaps because there was really no way of going back. Nonetheless he didn't have to choose.

Right before a fatal injury Other realised who else is in the void and shortcuted a couple of meters away.

"Boss!" Killer chuckled and walked up to the slimy dark guardian. "My prince on a black horse." He laughed, but his attention was fully focused on his opponent and what he was about to do.

Color was on a losing position he could dodge and defend himself from Killer all he wanted, but Nightmare was a huge problem. Even more that the longer they would fight the stronger he would become. He had to flee.

But before it, he looked at Killer one more time, he was surrounded by tentacles that wriggled and twisted around his body, giving the impression that it's doing it gently. Killer smiled, he didn't seem oppressed, but how could he if he didn't truly feel anymore.

With that final thought, he escaped.

The tentacles truly were all around him, but as far as he was concerned he knew they weren't out to hurt him, not now anyway. "Can you walk?" Nightmare asked without even looking at him, as his tendrils kept on whirling around his bones. He didn't know it, but right at that moment his Boss was checking his condition.

"Yeah." He said, slightly pushing a single slimy branch away.

Without saying anything a portal opened up and pulled both of them in. It was probably the grossest way of transporting in the whole multiverse, but they soon were back in the room.

Dust and Horror were already standing in the room, on the table behind them was placed a white metal box. Killer looked at it, as Horror put his hand on it, he shooked his head, but the other skeleton just locked his gaze on thier Boss who was long gone with his thoughts looking at the plan-wall.

They've been in a problematic position nonetheless.

On the other side of the multiverse, the Star Sanses and thier temporary allies has been planing as well.

"Currently Nightmare has three henchmen as we are aware of it." Ink spoke as he put a magnet with Horror's image on a white board. He looked at Cross with intention.

Cross raised his head at this and looked at the board. It meant he was supposed to say what he knew, probably. "He's barely ever seen in battle, if bos- I mean, Nightmare sends him to fight it means it's serious." He took a breath to continue, but Ink already started babbling on himself.

"His defense is bad and he's generally pretty easy to prevail, except that he's awfully strong. You need to watch out for his axe, his main weapon, but he's not defenses without it. Don't ever underestimate him. Next." He picked a Dust magnes and stucked it to the whiteboard.

Cross waited a moment, before he spoke, just to make sure he won't be rudely interrupted this time. "Dust is.. dangerous at the least. He usually lets his opponent go into offensive and only defends himself for a period of time. He's basically Horror's opposite, he won't fight back and he can take really much, up until he sees an opportunity to strike. Normally he's not using too much power or strength, but if he's going for that technic it can be fatal."

Ink nodded his head in agreement. "Right. Watch out for a distraction from his Phantom too."

Swap picked up the last magnet before Ink managed to get to it. "And Killer, he's the least problematic one, no?"

Ink put his hand on his jaw into thinking position, but then he started nodding slowly. "Probably."

"Yeah, all he has is his LV and knifes. Nothing special I can easily take him on." Cross mumbled. Dream raised his head first time in this conversation, he thought a moment about saying something, but Error managed to be first.

He also wasn't too active in the conversation, but the mentioned opponent made him want to make a small note. "Good, cause I can't take him, he just keeps on cutting my stings, unless he's out of knives, I won't be able to capture him."

Cross shook his head. "That'll be hard, he's got a knife in each of his sleeve, litteraly and not only. Nonetheless our biggest threat is still Nightmare."

That was the point Dream got up, for a moment they thought it was the mention of his brother's name, up until he spoke. "Are you serious? You think Killer is no threat?"

Swap looked at him and quickly lowered his head. Ink noticed it, but decided not to acknowledge it yet. "He's a threat alright. But each of us has fought with him at least once, probably."

Dream shook his head and straighten his back. "I think you're forgetting about something." Ink was puzzled, his pupil changed shape into a question mark. "We've only ever fought him when his soul was somehow stable."

Error and Ink looked quickly at eachother and then back at the positivity Guardian. "You mean his third stage? That never happened."

"That's because Nightmare keeps it that way, but now he's pushed into a corner, we have to be ready for anything." Dream said and took the magnet from Blue.

"Wait. It doesn't make sense, Nightmare keeps his pawn's soul stable? Shouldn't he do the very opposite?" Cross was confused, he didn't even know what stages were they talking about.

Dream look into his hand, into the empty eyeholes of the drawn skeleton. "Not really stable, stage 2, deceitful and devious. Night won't let the third one roam unwisely." He sighed and handed Ink the magnet, which he put on the white board. "And he's not just a pawn. He's the Queen on his chessboard."

Ink and Error had something of a gaze conversation going on and Cross was just confused. Swap looked at Dream without saying anything. The Great Sans was a specialist in riddles, he knew how chess works and he knew just how much that meant.

Killer sat down on the slope of the roof. "Hey Boss?" Nightmare wriggled his tentacle, he knew it was equalent to a simple 'yeah'. "You grew stronger in the past few weeks didn't you?" He raised his head to look at the pitch black illusion of a sky. Here in his void, even the stars seemed to be dark.

"I've managed to find a way to get rid of the good emotions I kept collecting on my way thay weakened me." Nightmare explained, his voice was soft, but low, just one step from whispering, it didn't feel like he really wanted to tell Killer about it. After a moment he spoke again. "Why so sudden?"

"... I'm just thinking, because lately I've heard that each of us is getting his upgrade of sorts? Y'know?" Killer layed down and closed his eyes. Nightmare was sitting right next to him and he felt like there was no threat for him in the whole of this universe.

Nightmare lowered his head to look at what's below them. "People grow Killer, they became wiser and stronger with time."

"Right..." He let air out softly.

He glanced at his company for a moment, waiting for some continuation. "But?"

He didn't get an answer right away. Killer opened his eyes thinking, sure if he was right, Boss would be aware of it sooner or later, yet he didn't wanna become a problem that quick. He looked at Nightmare, but his eyes clearly demanded an answer, whatever would it be. "When you came for me today... I felt.. good? I dunno, it was something unusual."

Night looked at him for a moment longer, as if he was analyzing not just his face, but his very being. "Has it really been so long you forgot what gratefulness feels like?"

Killer raised himself up quickly. He was ready to apologize, before it struck him that he, Killer, felt something, an actual emotion. And right at that moment he could swear he saw a slight smile on his Boss' face.

This story is one of Springverse's fore-story, kinda. For now there's no point in explaining, but since the stories are usually gonna seem pretty random, I'll make a Time Line. Hopefully you enjoyed!

I'll make a table of credits (for characters etc) soon, I'll edit this post then. For now:

Something new, Killer Sans (rahafwabas) Dreamtale, Nightmare & Dream Sans (jokublog) Other Sans (superyoumna) Horror Sans (sourapplestudios) Dust Sans (ask-dusttale) Ink Sans (comyet) Error Sans (loverofpiggies) Swap Sans (underswapped) Cross Sans (jakei95)

[rotworld]

21: For a Price

no good deed goes unpunished. as a weyer academy student, you learn this the hard way.

->explicit. contains noncon, body horror, abusive/elitist school culture, tentacles, implied mind-altering magic/mild mind control, terato.

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In Obelos, they call it “the look.” It’s easy to spot but hard to describe. Glance across a crowd of people, packed into a rush hour bus or standing in line at a coffee shop, and you can tell which ones are Weyer Academy students from “the look” alone. It’s not how they dress, necessarily. Cold professionalism and private school chic isn’t unique to Weyer, although you can figure out who’s new and who’s viciously competing for an Infernal internship fairly quickly. This is something subtler than that. It’s how they carry themselves, how they smile and shrug and turn the pages in a book. It’s how they occupy space and shake up the air around them. It’s perfect social chameleonism. People see arrogance, shrewdness, a sense of superiority—what they expect, and nothing more. 

You’re still learning how to do it.

You shiver in the frigid wind of early morning autumn. You wince when the sleet stings your face. You show too much discomfort, too much vulnerability. Shouldering through the large, creaking doors of the Pictor Library, you shake off your umbrella with stiff fingers and take a moment to compose yourself. Smooth out your clothes, steady your breathing, and feel the reassuring pulse of your magic like a second heartbeat. “The look” is a lie you wear. People stop eyeing you like easy prey when you hold your head higher.

Unassailable. That’s the look you’re going for. You don’t rush, even though you want to. You’re calm and composed and not in a hurry. The confident click of your boots echoes across the arched stone ceiling. You walk with casual ease through spacious halls with storm-darkened windows and narrow shelf aisles, surrounded by the smell of old parchment. You hear quiet laughter, a voice you recognize, and it takes all of your willpower to keep yourself from picking up your pace. You’re calm. You’re not nervous. You’re not worried about anything. 

A stone fireplace crackles softly in a quiet corner of the library, an old painting of the campus framed in gold above the mantle. Two tables sit in the warm glow, occupied by upperclassmen. You come into earshot slowly, pretending to browse the shelves. Most people in their second year steer clear of older students. You’re in an awkward transition period, too new to be an equal, not new enough to avoid being labeled a potential threat. 

Casimir was nice to you, though. It wasn’t anything huge but he was, more than once. You go to the same place for lunch a lot and he’s distinctive, dark haired and bright-eyed, an older student willing to share the same air as skittish first years without a scowl on his face. Brief, acknowledging nods turned to smalltalk and then to sitting at the same table. You know each other’s names and majors, where you’re from, what you’re aiming for after graduation. You know he’s the youngest of three overachievers and has a lot to live up to. He knows you lost a childhood friend to pneumatic degenerative disease.

And that doesn’t seem like much, but the bar is low here. Weyer is a cold place. Everyone’s trying to get ahead or at least trip up the people behind them. Last semester, someone stole every copy of Principles of Infernal Pharmacology from the library two weeks before finals. A rush order replacement held for public display and use had several dozen pages ripped out in key sections. Someone who’s willing to sit with you at lunch, to talk to you when you’re feeling alone, is downright saintly. Maybe “friends” is too strong a word, but you liked him. 

Then, a few days ago, he collapsed while waiting in line behind you. Would’ve cracked his skull on the tile floor if you hadn’t been there to catch him. He begged you not to take him to the campus clinic because then everyone would know so you helped him hobble to his dorm and hoped for the best. He didn’t come to lunch so you visited him a couple times. He wasn’t doing well. Hadn’t gone to class because something was wrong with his magic.

He never went to get a diagnosis, but you knew. You’d seen it before. There was no telling how long he’d been hiding it, intent on maintaining a facade of indifference. Leaving him alone, letting this go, doing nothing—it never even crossed your mind. 

A night and a day later, and here he is like nothing happened. You try not to be too obvious, running your hands along the spines of goetic texts on obscure demonology feigned indecision. Casimir sits at the head of the table closest to the fire, talking animatedly with a circle of third years huddled for gossip. It’s half an hour before even the earliest classes, dawn smothered by charcoal clouds. He looks good. Awake, aware, his skin practically glowing with all the magic rolling off of him. The recovery is nothing short of a miracle. You were worried that might be just as bad, attracting attention and questions he’s not prepared for, but he’s grinning. The other students aren’t hounding or interrogating him. They’re just talking. You shift a little closer, catching snippets of conversation.

“…total bullshit. I can’t fucking see straight at eight in the morning, and Leeds wants us doing advanced sigils in Stygian ink.”

“I’d just pull an all-nighter at that point. My magic’s shit until like noon.” 

“Really? Mine’s just fine.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Cas. Taking an altus doesn’t count. Leeds’ll fail you for that if he finds out.” 

“I’m not taking anything. I convinced some fucking newbie I was dying from soulrot and they summoned a demon for me. Gave me a huge boost.” 

Your umbrella clatters to the floor. Nobody notices. They’re too loud, pounding the table with hysterical laughter.

“Dude, what? You fucking what?”

“I mean, I wasn’t gonna do it like that originally, but they gave me this sob story about some dead kid they used to know. What was I gonna do, not use that?” 

“So that’s where you were these last few days.”

“You’ve got balls, Cas. I wouldn’t risk tricking a newbie into anything complicated, but of course you found one who could summon worth a shit.” 

“I almost feel bad. There’s no way that contract doesn’t cost them something huge,” Casimir says with a broad smile. “Mostly just a waste of potential, though. They were like an elethian arts major or something, so is it really a loss?” 

Your heart freezes solid in your chest. Maybe you’re having a nightmare. You’ve been thinking about this for days, after all, obsessing over it. Maybe you’re going to wake up in a minute, drenched in sweat. You stand there, huddled against the shelf in your soggy coat, taking deep breaths with your face nearly pressed into the books. You pinch yourself. You don’t wake up. Casimir’s friends are jealous. They can’t believe he pulled something like this off again. Again, you think, your heart pounding. You feel dizzy and sick. You look towards the table again and—

Casimir is looking right at you. He knew you were there, saw you walk up. And you’re not any good at “the look” so the sting of betrayal is written all over your face, wide-eyed, mouth quivering with words you can’t quite get out. 

He smiles at you. He winks. He’s good at it, you realize, maybe the best you’ve ever seen. 

You forgot your umbrella. You don’t realize it until maybe a block away. It doesn’t matter. You’re not worried about appearances anymore. The rain’s coming down harder now like cold little knives and the wind cuts right through you, nips at your skin. You leave. You don’t know where you’re going. Your feet just move. The sky lightens, charcoal to ash. Pavement turns to dirt and leaves, and you’re somewhere in the woods outside of campus. The trees soak up the howling wind but you’re still so cold, branches and pine needles scratching at your coat.

And ahead, there are lights. It occurs to you that there shouldn’t be. The Academy is behind you. Obelos is the other way. But there are lights softly pulsing, dazzling azure and cosmic indigo. They dance like a thousand stars on a string, glittering as they wind through the trees. They surround you, paint you in their soft hues. You’re overcome with calm and curiosity, the need to be near them. You reach out to touch one and it’s soft. See-through like plastic but sticky and organic, glowing pink beneath your fingertips. 

A beautiful hand, long-fingered and translucent, holding the same alluring glow, brushes against your face. It caresses your cheek and passes as soft and light as a cobweb beneath your chin, there and gone in the space of a breath. A delicate finger slides up the center of your back and you feel it through your coat, your skin, through tissue and bone, deeper than your spine. It stirs your soul and makes you shiver. You’re engulfed in arms of light, a tender embrace. Something large and weightless looms behind you.

“It’s not fair,” you say hoarsely. The words come out miserable and mumbled. Everything is soft and gauzy, your brain filled with fog. The lights twinkle. The rest of the world beyond them seems so dark and dull. “It’s not fair!” 

“Hush…” You hear a voice like music, sweet and melodic. The sound washes over you, echoing as it fades. It’s hard to keep your eyes open. 

It feels like you sink into the ocean. Something gentle and churning, welcoming you, opening itself to make space for you in its vastness. You see the lights fading, one by one. They become distant, little suns shining somewhere above the abyss. You see the world warped and rippling when you see anything at all. The echoes of waves wash over you, the roll of the tide somewhere far away. You’re moving—being moved. You drift In watery darkness, the belly of a whale. A ribcage of colored glass pulses softly all around you, blue to bottle green, purple to coral pink. 

When the water lets you go, you emerge wet and trembling as though newly born. Your clothes feel unpleasantly slick and slimy, sticking to your skin. It’s a struggle to find your footing. Your legs are weak and the room is confusing. There are no hard angles or corners. Ceiling, wall and floor blend together in dizzying swirls, architecture that makes you dizzy just looking at it. Strange objects that must be furniture drift aimlessly, unbound by gravity. The only light comes in rhythmic pulses and cool colors. Shining orbs spiral around you in loose curls, suspended in a cloudy mass like glittering vapor.

“Are you well?” That beautiful voice fills the space. If you look closely, you can see him in the dark. An outline, a crystal shimmer along the silhouette of something almost human. There’s a round shape that’s recognizably a head and the slope of shoulders. No face that you can make out, no detail to the strange tendrils of light like a veil or strands of hair, but recognizable, understandable, until you reach the waist. A thin membrane like a jellyfish bell undulates, fluttering like a skirt beneath water. Everything beneath is indistinct, color, light and haze.

Syphracius in all his majesty and impossible beauty looms before you, his long, tail-like swirl of light winding around you like orbiting planets. 

“Am I well?” you repeat the question back to him, incredulous. “No. No, I’m not. He didn’t…he wasn’t even…” 

“I know,” Syphracius says.

Your heart throbs painfully. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you give him anything?” 

Syphracius floats around you slowly, arms crossed, a see-through hand pressed to his cheek. He looks delicate like a glass ornament, smooth and reflective. The structures inside of him aren’t organ or bone but misshapen crystalline growths—a nervous system of raw soul enveloped in a flexible plasmic sheath. “Your bindings were few. I was to enrich his magic, revitalize his soul, and ensure no traces of pneumatic degeneration remained. I wasn’t required to inform you of the details, nor was I forbidden from bestowing the boons you offered, however redundant they may have been.”

“It isn’t fair,” you insist, your voice cracking. You feel small and petulant, a mortal all alone in the dark screaming at an uncaring god. “You shouldn’t have done that for him. He didn’t deserve it.” 

“You should’ve expected it.”

“I should’ve expected that he’d lie to me about something so serious?” 

“Yes,” Syphracius says, tone gentling, “you should’ve.” 

Your chest aches with dull, throbbing pain. You wipe furiously at your tears before they have a chance to fall. Syphracius touches your shoulder, urging you to face him. His hands frame your face and he lowers himself, so close you would be sharing breath if he had lungs or lips. 

“That was no place for you,” he says. 

“You don’t even know me.” 

“I don’t have to. I’m eleth. Your soul is bare to me. I see it…and I feel it…” You shudder as his hands slide down your neck and you feel it deeper than your skin, inside, places where sensation is so powerful it’s hard to think straight just from the softest brush of his fingers. He rubs his featureless face against your cheek in a nuzzling motion, the curtain of tendrils drifting around your face. “And I know. That was no place for you.” His hands smooth lower. You feel him gently pushing your coat off of your shoulders and caressing your soul at the same time. 

“Wait,” you beg him. It’s starting to become real now, the full weight of the situation crushing your lungs. “Wait, I—please, wait!” 

“You’re beautiful,” he sighs. He takes your shirt. He doesn’t rip it but he doesn’t bother to take it off properly, his hands phasing through the fabric and his unsettling presence unraveling the seams. The rest of your clothes follow quickly, lost to his impatience. He feels strange against your bare skin, slick and almost sticky. His hands are on your chest but you feel them inside you, fondling your soul. “This is better, isn’t it? That place won’t taint you any further. You’ll stay here. With me. As lovely as you are now.” 

“Wait, please—”

Syphracius winds around you in a slow, serpentine motion. His haze is smothering. It goes into your lungs as soothing smoke, thick and numbing. Your body feels heavy. You sway, struggling to stay on your feet. His lights squish like fruit where they touch you, oozing colorful liquid across your skin. There’s something hidden in the fog of his lower body. Dozens, maybe hundreds of long, tendril appendages, smooth and searching for your warmth. They swarm you like tongues, wriggling around your limbs to hold you still. Syphracius twines himself around you, his upper body rising in the dark above you. He glows with mesmerizing light, his gentle hands moving down your body. 

“It won’t hurt at all,” he assures you, stroking your hair. “It’s going to feel wonderful. Nothing but bliss. We’re the only ones who can make it feel this good. You’ll be so happy. You’ll see.”

You don’t realize you’re being lifted at first. You feel strange in his hold. You drift with him, as light as air. You don’t feel real anymore. His tendrils pull your legs apart and you gasp when another slithers across your lap. It’s slippery, not firm enough to resemble a cock. It touches you just like the rest of him, both flesh and soul simultaneously, and every wet, squishing slide of it against your sex makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head. Boneless, it moves in impossible, fluid ways, twisting itself to line up with your entrance. It ruts against you almost playfully, the blunt tip kissing your quivering muscles before it pulls away again.

“You can’t,” you say weakly.

“Hush,” he whispers. He floats behind you, the nearly solid plasma of his chest giving you something solid to recline against. He reaches around you, his hand moving down to stroke your sex. The tentacle pushes against you again and you feel its bulging shaft straining, compressing, readying itself to push past your resistance. 

 “You can’t, it’s not—” It takes all of your willpower to hold onto a single coherent thought when he penetrates you. It’s perfect. No pain. Not stretch. Just pleasure, a shock to the base of your brain. Syphracius groans and you feel his entire body shudder around and inside you, his hands wrapped tightly around your soul. His lights pulse wildly, even brighter than before. You can taste his colors in the back of your throat. “You can’t,” you whimper. You can’t focus properly, can’t do anything meaningful, but you reach for your magic. Syphracius gasps in delight at the sensations it makes along his body. It’s clumsy and rushed, an inelegant contortion rather than graceful movement, but you twist your soul out of his grasp. The movement makes your body convulse and break out in a cold sweat.

“You wonderful, beautiful creature,” he says breathlessly. His grip tightens, every squirming tendril somehow stickier, clinging to you even more desperately. “You studied elethian magic! Of course, of course you did! That’s why you sounded so sweet calling out to me. That’s why you fit so perfectly in my hands. You were meant for me, weren’t you, precious? I must have you.” You thought you were already restrained, already as vulnerable as you could be, but Syphracius isn’t content. Your wrists are dragged behind your back, arms engulfed in a sticky mass of tendrils that keeps them bound. His hands are on your head, making you crane your neck and stare up into his featureless face looming above you. One of the tendrils making up his veil-like hair caresses your cheek, inching closer to your mouth. 

“You can’t,” you tell him, forcing the words out while you still can. “You didn’t fulfill the contract. I don’t owe you my soul.” 

Syphracius goes completely still. The sensation is unnerving. There’s no soft rise and fall of his chest, not a single twitch, not even the gentle, floating caress of his mist. Everything freezes. His voice is uncharacteristically sharp when he says. “Yes, you do.” 

“No, I don’t,” you insist. You take a shuddering breath. He’s still inside you. Every small flinch rubs him against your inner walls or the sides of your soul. “I asked you to cure him, but he wasn’t sick. I only owe you my soul if you do everything I ask, and you can’t.”

The silence is frightening. Syphracius doesn’t let you go, holding you in that uncomfortable position as he slowly regains slight motion, his veil swaying, the fog of his body caressing you. His colors are subdued, only a dark, constant blue. You stay as still as you can, watching him, waiting for some kind of reaction. Slowly, the tentacle inside of you undulates, giving a gentle thrust. 

“You can’t!” you yelp.

“I can’t keep your soul, no,” Syphracius murmurs. His grip on your head grows harsh and the tendril extending from his head prods at your lips. “But you can’t deny me just a taste.” He clutches your jaw, forcing your mouth open. The tendril slithers inside, laying thickly across your tongue. It doesn’t choke you. It slips straight from your mouth into your soul, and you cum. 

Syphracius obliterates every thought and worry in your head. There’s nothing left but pleasure. It’s impossibly good. You feel the ghost of him in places that should hurt, places he doesn’t belong. The tentacle’s writhing motions aren’t enough and he’s moving his strange body, bucking his hips and moving the shivering, alien tail to impale you on his thick, writhing shaft. You feel yourself meeting his thrusts and don’t know how. You don’t have any conscious control of your body. 

You’re breathing him, his haze looser and filling the room. There’s a moment when you feel yourself melding into him. You feel the hot squeeze of your own body around his tentacle, how you clench and pull him deeper. You see your wrecked, debauched body spread open in his lap, his tendril fucking your throat and your soul simultaneously. Your back is arched, your hips chasing every pounding thrust, his translucent hands bright indigo as they move down your body in sensual strokes. 

He doesn’t climax in a way you can recognize. His movements reach a fever pitch, hard and vicious, and then slow without warning. It feels more like he tires, too fatigued to continue. His plasma is loose and jelly-like, almost melting. He feels like ooze against your back. The tendril in your mouth retreats first, leaving a mix of saliva and something sickly sweet splashing across your lips. The tentacle fucking you starts a slow, deep rhythm, refusing to leave the tight hold of your insides, but it slinks out of your soul. His hands only touch your skin as they settle on your hips, urging you to lie back. 

“We’re in a stalemate, then,” Syphracius says quietly. “Bound by a contract that can’t be completed. Unless you agree to its dissolution.” 

You’d laugh if you had the energy. “And leave myself completely at your mercy? No way.” The tentacle finally gives up, sliding out with a rush of sticky liquid. You shudder, feeling it trickle down your thighs. You’re released slowly, reluctantly, one limb at a time. Gently, he deposits you on the ground. He reduced most of your clothing to puddles of incoherent matter, but at least your coat’s almost dry. You slip it on, desperate to be covered. Syphracius looms behind you, caressing your arm. 

“I would be good to you,” Syphracius murmurs. He presses his face to your cheek. His approximation of a kiss, you think. His hands creep over your shoulders, squeezing suggestively. “You would be the most treasured soul in my collection. I wouldn’t leave you on a shelf to gather dust, precious. I would touch you…taste you…” You shake your head and he sighs, his hands sliding away from your shoulders. “You don’t belong there.” 

“Don’t tell me where I belong,” you say, quietly and without any bite. “I’ll dissolve the contract later, after you take me home.” 

“There’s nothing I could offer you that would change your mind?” he asks. He encircles you with his lights and drifts in front of you, stroking your cheek. “Something small,” he purrs, “something so you’ll come back to me. Just for a day, precious. Let me feel you again.” 

That would be playing with fire. There’s no telling what he’ll try to pull if you make a new contract, how carefully he’ll be watching his words. You know people who’d be proud to have a demon so worked up and hungry for your attention. You know one very well, in fact. 

You swallow hard, looking up at Syphracius. Even without eyes, you feel him watching you. Even without breath, you sense that he’s waiting with eager anticipation, knowing what you’re about to say. He drifts closer, wrapping his arms around you.

When it comes to Casimir, after all, leaving him alone, letting it go, doing nothing—none of that feels very satisfying right now. 

You tell him, your voice trembling, “There might be something.”

[captainlevisteacup]

Perhaps you could do some SFW Fluffy & some NSFW headcanons with the brothers in a relationship with a Shapeshifter MC who frequently changes their form?

Like, they keep their natural/signature features to be recognizable, but they do regularly change their gender, height, & sex organs 😏 (Why? Because they can and they find it fun) They’re also total Dom no matter what form they are in, and will happily talk about the various ways they used their abilities to make sex more..exciting (Ex being Tentacles, two huge dicks, a big dick AND a vagina, forming a tongue designed specifically for their partner so they can perfectly give blowjob/eat them out, things like that)

This MC also uses their abilities in some way on the brothers when they are having sex, wether that be fucking them with a dick while pressing their boobs against their back/front, or doing something more..hentai related

On the fluff side of things, MC totally regularly turns into the Bros favorite animal whenever they are stressed and just lets them pet them, or if the brothers are feeling overly worried they might hurt Mc she just turns into a demon. (Which MC does whenever they want to do an activity with the brothers a human can’t do)

This also works out for them aswell, as this Mc is essentially gender fluid and just changes their form to whatever they want to when they are feeling dysphoria (Though they typically go by they/them because of how confusing it can get to go by specific pro-nouns fitting the form they shift into when they rapidly change forms throughout the day)

Sorry this was so long!

*cracks knuckles*

AAAAALLLLLLLLRRIGHTTTTTTT LET'S GO!!

No need to apologize for the long ask, I absolutely LOVE requests and this gives me a lot to work with!

The brothers with a Dom! Genderfluid *Shapeshifter* MC

***WARNINGS: HEAVY NSFW, 18+ ONLY***

Lucifer

Slightly wounds his pride that try as he might, he just can't dom MC

Something about them just renders him helpless against them

He loses his usual confidence and natural leader abilities around MC

Speaking of abilities

The things MC can do to him; the things they can make him feel

Mc can access any and every end of any possible spectrum

His favorite thing they can do is shifting themselves into having a truly impressive cock, complete with a set of plump breasts and a very, VERY long tongue

Impressive as that alone is, what MC uses it for is even more so

Pegging him mercilessly from behind, breasts bouncing and scraping against his back while that damned tongue snakes around his waist to pleasure his own member

He never knows just how to focus on any one thing when everything feels so incredible; Their dick ramming into him with reckless abandon, those globular tits bouncing onto his back, or that tongue with a lewd amount of saliva dripping off of it and onto Lucifer's body, massaging his throbbing member

MC'S gifts aren't JUST used for sex, though

They'll often use their abilities to calm him down when he's stressed

They'll make their hands impossibly soft, and run them lightly all over his body in soothing motions

Light circles on his arms, lazy lines on his face, and light massaging through his hair

Mammon

Has no problem whatsoever with MC domming him

Absolutely loves their abilities

Comes completely undone when MC stands right behind him, whispers about how they need him to be their little slut in an alluring feminine voice, and presses their intimidating member against his ass

He knows what comes next

MC ripping his shirt off of him, and pushing him down onto the bed.

Mammon takes this time to admire them; their pert breasts, their smooth skin, to their thick cock, perfectly accentuated with smooth veins, and the beautiful, somehow always moist pussy right below it

This was a skill that had startled Mammon at first. Shapeshifters aren't that common, so for it to be used sexually like THIS? Oh, Mammon was in euphoria.

MC had experimented with many different positions, but the one that drove Mammon over the edge was the one they used the most

MC on top, riding Mammon as if he were a prized mare, their dick slapping harshly against his chiseled abs, the lewd sound echoing throughout the room

Once MC came, not only was Mammon's dick enveloped by their wet vagina, but their hot seed sprayed onto his toned stomach.

Outside of the bedroom, MC would shift their hair to match Mammon's whenever he wasn't feeling well. It never failed to cheer him up, seeing MC with the same white hair made him so happy.

Levi

The biggest bottom to exist

MC takes FULL advantage of the otaku

Shifts to have the exact same body as Ruri-chan

Huge tits, exaggerated waist, and slender legs

Shifts so that their pussy is unbelievably tight, and during sex they tighten and loosen it to provide further stimulation

MC shifts to have slight fangs, so that they can drag them along Levi's skin

Often turns into a snake and rests on Levi's shoulders, sometimes they do this during class if MC doesn't want to attend their's that day

MC can stretch or shrink their vocal cords to mimic certain Anime characters

Occasionally, MC will do this doing sex and moan Levi's name

This drives him insane

If the two are in public and MC wants to tease or arouse him, all the have to do is adopt the anime girl voice and say something along the lines of "Gomenezai, Oni-sama"

Levi immediately gets hard

Mc then drags them off to relieve him *wink wink*

Satan

Cat ears.

CAT EARS

MC knows damn well what this does to him

Satan prefers rough sex, so MC will shift into having chiseled, muscular arms capable of holding him down, with a chest to match, all topped off with a well-built cock complete with subtle ridges all along the shaft

MC will pin Satan's arms to the wall with one hand, and harshly jerk his chin towards them with the other while rubbing their cock in between his legs, teasing his sensitive balls. Then, as a cue, MC would make the cat ears appear

In a flash, Satan would be shoved onto his hands and knees and roughly taken from behind, the ridges on MC'S dick creating deliciously painful friction

Mc would knot their fingers into his hair and yank his head back, often earning a yelp from his lips

Outside of sex, MC is almost always either fully a cat or has some aspect of a cat (cat ears, subtle fangs, or sometimes a tail that he loves to play with

This is because it really helps suppress Satan's temper for some reason

Since MC likes to change up the color of their fur when they go into a full cat, Lucifer becomes convinced Satan has snuck multiple cats into the House of Lamentation, because he keeps finding the fur

Satan refuses to let MC tell him, because he finds it hilarious how irritated it makes Lucifer

Asmo

As SOON as he found out MC could shift their body, had a whole list of things he wanted to do with them

The first on that list was being fucked by two dicks, both belonging to MC

MC made him agree to being stretched out first, so as not to hurt him

Every time MC fucked Asmo, they would use a differently shaped and textured cock, each ever so slightly larger than the last

After Asmo took an unfathomably large member from MC, he was deemed ready

Asmo watched in awe as MC shifted to possess two large and vastly different cocks.

One was girthy, with a perfectly smooth shaft and a bulbous head

The other was more slender, with diagonal ridges, almost scale like, running all along it's length.

MC slid them in one at a time, allowing Asmo to adjust

Once both of their dicks were fully in Asmo, they slowly began to pull back

Their dicks dragged painfully slow along the insides of Asmo, creating a brutal friction that threatened to make Asmo crumble right then and there

Outside of sex, MC was Asmo's dream come true

Well, inside of sex too, but that's besides the point

MC often shifts their body to mimic different body types, and Asmo styles their outfits based on how they decide to have their body that day

Same thing goes for hair, as MC can adjust their hair to any length, color, texture, and width

Asmo loves trying out and practicing different styles

Beel

Face fucking.

His favorite. No arguments.

MC shifts into having a cock even bigger than Beel's (a true feat), and a tight pussy just beneath it.

Beel loves it when they shove his head onto their cock, fingers fisting into his hair

Forcing his head to move onto their cock, tears pricking in his eyes and they fucked his mouth, his throat, mercilessly

MC doesn't allow Beel to sit and do nothing, oh no

Beel fingers their wet pussy as they fuck his face senseless

If Beel isn't moving his fingers fast enough, MC shoves their dick even further down his throat

Huskily whispers into his ear "Come on, Avatar of Gluttony, surely you can swallow more than that"

Outside of sex, shifts into a demon so they can play with Beel and the brothers.

At first, the brothers wouldn't let MC play any sports with them (mostly Beel), out of fear for MC getting injured

So, MC proceeded to shift into a whole ass demon.

Shocks everyone and utterly destroys all the brothers

Belphie

Cowboy

Like cowgirl...but not.

MC shifts so that their body is substantially bigger than his

This makes Belphie small enough in comparison to easily fit in MC'S lap

Ironically, MC shifts to have a cock roughly the size of a bull. They would never dream of making Belphie take it all....

But they can try

Belphie sits on their lap, legs spread, facing MC so they can see the fear and pleasure mix on his face

MC slowly teases him with their tip, entering one inch at a time before pulling out, pausing, and suddenly shoving back in, an inch deeper each time

Their hands holding Belphie up by the hips the whole time

Outside of sex, will shift to have a very soft stomache for Belphie to lay on

When Belphie is feeling depressed or lonely, MC shifts into a very, VERY soft wolf for Belphie to stroke the fur of as a grounding technique, and to sleep with on the nights he feels alone

This happens so often that MC just relaxes around the house in a wolf form

This never fails to scare the shit out of Mammon, which, in turn, brings a rare smile to Belphie's face

[1kook]

EXPLORER

jjk x female reader

FOR GCN’S ❝ 23 | JUNGKOOK BIRTHDAY PROJECT ❞ ! Alien AU | “I want to have your last name!” | “I like when you do that, it makes me crazy.”

summary; Jungkook does not want to impress the frankly tyrannical ways of his planet on you. He just wants to stay here and keep your couch warm for you, hold your hair back when you wash your face in the morning.  warnings; smut in the forms of cunnilingus, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, anal, tit play, and all that jazz bc surprise its tentacle porn rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous; FLUFF, strangers to friends to lovers, curious alien kook, there’s a saber tooth tiger mention, virginity is a social construct, they both have skewed perceptions of sex and love, and idk what else word count; 17.8k

notes; someone said once “all u ever do is write college aus 😃” and i was like lol true but i was also a virgo and was like “i’ll prove u wrong” and next thing i knew i was writing a 17k alien au clap for me lads

special thanks to; my savior and editor rumu ( @kigurumu​ ) who very politely tells me when im making up words n also when shit doesn't make sense but lets me make stupid final decisions that will come back to bite me in the ass<3 and also my gf yeji @suqakoo​ who watched me crash and burn about ten times while writing this monstrosity of  fic and just laughed her support amazes me<3

BEFORE READING SEE HERE; body marks, under eye marks, sixam that i stole from the sims 4 

He comes with the sole purpose of populating this uncharted territory with his seed. 

Jungkook has been on many missions abroad. He’s visited about every planet in Sector 76 before this, the largest collection of neighboring galaxies known to exist. And because of that, he likes to think he’s well educated in extraterrestrial affairs, quite knowledgeable in the barbaric ways of the foreigners. They see, they mate. Pretty simple. 

For the past couple years, as leading field researcher of Sixam, Jungkook has been exclusively studying every creature he comes across. He enjoys cataloging their habits, their mating cycles, and the unique culture they develop, sometimes intentionally and sometimes not. 

Granted, he’s never been on a mission like this. 

This type of mission has never been his. 

When the great planet of Sixam wishes to settle colonies of new species— Sixamian bred with whatever other species that have deemed suitable —they usually task people like Namjoon or Seokjin, both high ranking generals of the Sixamian Intergalactic Corp. with a near immaculate genetic makeup. Their genotypes carry strong traits, and are oftentimes most reflected in their phenotypes as well. Beings like Namjoon or Jin are the epitome of what it means to be Sixamian, which is why Jungkook is surprised when they ask him to place his seeds on Planet 43 Z-7 of the Via Láctea solar system, otherwise known as ‘Earth.’

It wasn’t that Jungkook had major self image issues, nor did he think he was particularly bad to look at. In fact, Jungkook thinks he’s pretty amazing. Of course he doesn’t compare to Namjoon or Jin, but quite frankly, the comparison is skewed by the fact he works in a different field than them. You cannot compare black holes to asteroid belts; in a similar fashion, you cannot compare military generals to scientific researchers. 

Anyway, Jungkook has never been to Planet 43 Z-7, but some of his coworkers have. They all claim it is a beautiful place, filled to the brim with life and culture never before seen. 

Frankly, Jungkook doesn’t believe it. 

He’s seen hundreds of planets, thousands of species, so he hardly feels amazed anymore. There is nothing enjoyable about other planets when he comes from Sixam, quite possibly the most intellectually advanced one in the universe. And he says this having met Yoongi of Planet 732 T-1, another being near immaculate in terms of cognitive abilities.

But not as perfect as Sixamians. 

Hoseok says Planet 43 Z-7 has all sorts of unique artifacts, like these edible arrangements called ‘hot dogs’ you eat between two pieces of raised yeast. Planet 43 Z-7 has been unmarked for eons now, but is a popular hideout for rebelling Sixamians during their early years. Jungkook was never one of those types, but he has a handful of friends who were. 

Needless to say, Jungkook isn’t looking forward to his mission. He asks Namjoon and Jin for tips on how to approach the reproductive members in the species, if there’s any protocol he needs to follow, but they simply laugh it off. They’ve both had the pleasure of, well, pleasuring some of the most beautiful creatures in the universe, so Jungkook’s incompetence must be a sight to see. 

Airship handler Jimin is the last face he sees on Sixam. He’s as relaxed as ever, strapping Jungkook into his travel pod like this is just another one of his research trips and not his first ever population operation. He pats his shoulder once, tells him to bring him back something called a ‘Nintendo DS’ that his partner Taehyung has been begging for since the last time they went to Planet 43 Z-7, but Jungkook has no idea what that is. 

And then he’s off. 

Jungkook has long since grown comfortable with the emptiness of space, a desolate feeling that oddly made him feel at home. But, as he hurtles towards his destination, there’s a newfound sense of anxiety that consumes him at the thought of this unknown planet— this ‘Earth’ that his fellow Sixamian friends speak so highly about. 

He lands in a field. Well, ‘lands’ is a bit of a stretch; his pod comes to a stop a few feet above Planet 43 Z-7’s surface, hovering over the natural flora that seems to grow in abundance in this part of the planet. It’s… dirty, compared to the sleek skyscrapers and glowing structures of Sixam. 

He steps out tentatively, the vegetation crunching beneath the boots of his skintight spacesuit. The folks back at Sixam had told him that whatever the residents of this planet breathed in was compatible with Sixamians, but he still hesitates to click off his helmet. 

The planet is quiet, save for the quiet chirping of some creature underground. The AI on his helmet pulls up the information before his very eyes, the advanced technology quickly tapping into wherever it was these beings stored their information. A mole cricket, he reads, first documented by a researcher about two hundred human years back. Very annoying. 

His pod seals itself shut again, presumably heading back into orbit until Jungkook calls for it again. With it gone, he’s faced with the vast nothingness of Planet 43 Z-7, just grass and trees with very few things in between. He’s beginning to suspect Jimin might have sent him to the wrong coordinates, a void space on the planet with nothing but vegetation for miles. 

Part of him is frustrated, beyond annoyed that he cannot even complete the one thing he came to do if there is no being in sight. But another part, the part of him that had been nervous to even accept this mission, feels grateful. Well, there was no use complaining about it now, he thinks. He pulls up his virtual journal, ready to catalogue every bit of vegetation he can set his eyes on. 

After a while, his helmet becomes stuffy, the digital screen that plays over the glass piece fogging up with his breath. So Jungkook takes his chances and clicks it off, the sudden wash of oxygen filling his lungs quickly. It’s fresh and moist? It smells like his laboratories back on Sixam, the ones that took years of countless trips around the universe and meticulous gardening to cultivate. Yet here on Planet 43 Z-7, this type of phenomenon is common, and apparently, ignored by its residents. 

One man’s trash was another man’s treasure, he supposes. 

He’s scanning a peculiar organism, reddish and dome-shaped, when he hears the first crack of a twig. Immediately, his defenses rise. Jungkook was by no means a skilled warrior, but most Sixamians fared better than other creatures in the universe. Save for the few barbarian, primitive species they’ve encountered, 9/10 times any wild encounter was in their favor. 

His eyes scan over the perimeter of the field, scanning, scanning, scanning— until he spots two, huge, glowing yellow eyes from distance. His eyes widen, flicking on the retractable blaster from his wrist and pointing it at the creature. 

It’s bigger than him, with eyes that look over only a short distance before gradually dying down. He wonders if that’s the scope of its field of vision, crouching down along the vegetation. He creeps closer, rounds the bright beams until he can see the creature’s side, an oddly shaped thing, almost like a shell. It has wheels, he realizes, mentally jotting down the fact this species is advanced enough to develop such technology on their own. 

Right as he’s beginning to lower his wrist, deciding this metal creature posed no threat from its lack of movement, something smaller moves around it, carrying a compact version of those glowing eyes. 

Jungkook panics, wildly clicking through the modes on his wrists. He jumps from his blaster to the thermal detector, and the smaller creature that moves around the metal beast has a heat signature he’s never seen before, warmth that begins at its core but doesn’t drop drastically as it fans out. And then he’s switching to his electroscope and is startled to see that the smaller creature even carries an electric charge beneath its outer membrane. 

This is terrifying, he thinks to himself, wondering why his friends back home had decided to trick him into believing Planet 43 Z-7 was remotely safe. 

Before Jungkook can act rashly and accidentally kill that terrifying creature, he’s blindly stepping into a hole in the ground, a dip in the field. An uncontrollable yelp tears itself from his throat at the roll of his ankle. 

Immediately, the yellow eye is upon him, flickering over his kneeling form in the vegetation. Jungkook freezes, caught in the all-seeing rays of the yellow eye. He wonders if this is the end, the end of an undoubtedly legendary run, as the creature slowly approaches. 

Its figure is shrouded, the blinding eye turning them into just a silhouette that closes in on Jungkook fairly quickly. He squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he never stepped out of his pod, when the beam flickers off. 

“Hello?” a hesitant voice calls out, and then he’s met with you. 

You had always believed holding out until marriage would come as an advantage. You played it safe your entire life, always did what you were told. You had grown up in a relatively traditional household, always following the rules like a good kid. Your parents said no dating until seventeen? You waited until seventeen. Your health classes in school said practice abstinence? You practiced abstinence. 

Following the rules was what got you into a prestigious university. Following the rules is what got you your first, quite admirable, job. Following the rules is what had gotten you into your first serious relationship with your boyfriend, who became your fiancé, who would become the man to cheat on you three nights before your wedding. 

Being a virgin— that symbol of purity —was supposed to make you desirable to men, you thought. It was supposed to protect you from bad experiences, keep you perfectly polished until the time came. You had many a friend who had engaged in sex at a young age, experienced mind blowing sex that would never be topped, even by their own future husbands. You had saved yourself from disappointment by saving yourself in general. 

Except that concept, that meticulously followed tradition, was what ultimately drove your fiancé away.

Three days. 

Three days before you would marry and lose that treasured thing you had been carrying around for the past twenty-five years, flushed clean down the drain all because he couldn’t wait any longer. He had managed four years with you, four memorable years where he had religiously told you he loved you every chance he got, regardless of your lack of sex life. Just to blow it for some barely legal chick at a bar. 

Needless to say, you were done. Absolutely finished with him and your friends who claimed they “weren’t surprised” only after the fact, or your parents who had urged you to try again. You were done with this saving and waiting all for a man who ultimately did you dirty. You needed to get away from it all, and the only way to do that was to leave the city all together. 

Your parents were uncomfortable with the idea. They said it was too brash a decision to give up after one try. But your whole future had been riding on this one try, and to have it completely ripped away from you crushed not only your hope but your pride. 

On the other hand, your grandmother and her lifelong experiences with men understood you just perfectly. She was old, living in a retirement home near your parents’ home in one of your city’s many suburbs. There was a house out in the countryside, about a two-hour drive from the city. She had grown up there, and even though she hadn’t lived there in years, she simply couldn’t bring herself to sell it off. So she gave it to you. 

It was a cute little thing, a stereotypical farmhouse surrounded by miles and miles of nothingness. Well, your neighbors were about half a mile off on either side, but who was walking half a mile for a cup of sugar? No one. 

You loved it. 

It was peace and quiet, long days of focusing on yourself and your tiny garden outback. There was no societal pressure to act right, or forced ideologies to make yourself the ‘perfect woman.’ It was just you and a stray cat that visited now and then, spending day after day reading and writing, working from home. 

The trips into the city were far and few between. There was a general store close to your house, nestled into a quaint little town you visited every so often. And the mailmen still had to make their stops through here, so everything was practically at your fingertips. The only thing you had to do in the city was drop by the main branch office of your job. Your work had mostly been over a computer before, so moving to work at home was rather easy. However, there was still the occasional board meeting to sit through. 

So here you were, three months into your new living situation and on your way back home from the city. The evening sun is beating down hot on your yellow Beetle. You were in desperate need for a check up, but you kept pushing it off and telling yourself tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. It seems tomorrow should have been today, because by the time the sun is setting, home is still another thirty minutes away and the temperature gauge is climbing to unhealthy levels. 

The Beetle pushes for another two minutes before wheezing to a stop in the middle of nowhere, your angry slaps against the dashboard doing nothing to revive it. With a muttered curse, you switch the car off. The front lights remain on even as you round the dead car, angrily kicking the tire with your heel. It doesn’t budge. 

You sigh, sinking down to your knees beside the opened door you came out of. The nearest mechanic was still a forty minutes’ drive from here, and you doubt anyone is still open. The con of small towns is that most of the businesses close after sunset. One glance at your phone lets you know it’s way too late to call anyone for help. You contemplate just walking to your house, but it’s dark and far, and your heels were only meant to be worn for an hour or two during your meeting. Not for an entire transcontinental trek back home. 

Sighing, you decide your best bet is tinkering around yourself. You weren’t a total idiot, so you hope whatever is wrong with your car is something you can fix on your own. You shoot back up to your feet, patting the blood back into your face as you round the car. 

There’s nothing but you and the Beetle for miles on end— or so you think. 

Just as you flicker your flashlight over the expanse of grass, there’s a startled shout that scares the living daylights out of you, flashlight fumbling in your hand in your haste to see what it was. 

Great, so not only were you stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing but your heels to carry you to safety, but now there was also a man out there, hiding in the tall grass like a voyeur. 

It’s a terrible idea, but you approach him anyway. There’s a huddled figure, a gleam of a bizarre outfit that has you shaking in your heels as you step closer to the edge of the road. And when you finally get close enough, the light shining over their figure, you’re not exactly sure what you’re looking at. 

“Hello?” you call out, and are met with the most violet eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

Jungkook thinks you are an odd creature. 

To begin with, you carry an electrical charge at your fingertips but are unable to revive your rickety metal ride with said touch. It is undoubtedly a trait he does not remember cataloguing in any other species before yours; it might rival the Sixamians’ aura sensing abilities, the little triangular markings beneath their eyes that allowed them to alter another’s emotions. Electricity beneath surface, he mentally notes for the nth time that night. 

The inside of your vehicle is disgustingly mediocre, a mixture of old clogs and pipes he’s only seen in ancient Sixamian textbooks. Still, they’re devastatingly easy to figure out. One simple twist of a lid later and your car is revving back to life. You squeal and clap, clacking around on the frankly terrifying footwear you call heels that are practically knives as stilts. 

Amazing, you cry, moving like a mini tornado around him. You don’t seem the least bit phased by his appearance, despite the initial shock you’d gotten when you first made eye contact. Actually, Jungkook thinks you might be the quickest extraterrestrial being to accept his existence as fact. He has to wonder what exactly goes on here that has these Humans, as Jimin has called them, so desensitized to the appearance of otherworldly figures such as himself. 

You invite him into your moving death trap, not the least bit concerned with the chest piece of armor he removes and tosses into the seats behind him. Jungkook has been in a lot of near death situations, and somehow your manner of driving this metal box marks high on the list. 

“My home,” you tell him when you finally pull up to a tiny shack of a house. It’s about the same size as his personal lab back on Sixam, so he wonders just which one of you is being deluded by the size. The car engine shuts off with a practiced flick of your wrist, and then you’re making your way up the front steps without sparing him a glance. 

“Lovely,” he says at the entrance. He moves to travel deeper inside, but you warn him to remove his shoes. He does, hesitantly, bare feet padding along the wooden floors behind you. “Forgive me,” he apologizes, watching you bumble around a small space with a standing cooler and heat box. “I haven’t asked your name.”

You hum, tugging out two cups from a hanging cabinet. You fill them with a white substance, followed by a light brown powder that almost makes you sneeze, before shoving them into the heat box that begins suspiciously counting down. “__ ___,” you offer. 

Jungkook frowns. “You have two names?” he asks skeptically. In Sixam, rarely anyone had two names. “Are you a government official?” 

You laugh. “No, but I do work for an office. I have one name, and then my last name,” you explain. 

This only perplexes him more. “A last name?” he repeats. “What is the purpose of this last name?” 

You shrug, and the heat box beeps loudly. Jungkook twitches, ready to aim his blaster once more but you calm the beeping box with a gentle click that has the front opening, the most heavenly scent wafting into his nostrils. Oh Jungkook definitely needed to take that back. Much to his surprise, you hand him one of the handled cups, the sweet smell making his eyes roll into the back of his head. 

“Well,” you say, seemingly unaware of the way you just changed Jungkook’s entire life. “I have my name, and then I have my family’s name. Like, to show we’re in the same group, kinda,” you explain. “And it also helps sort of differentiate you from other people with the same first name.” You settle down on a seat in front of the counter, carefully blowing across the liquid contents of the mug. Jungkook doesn’t get why until he tries to take a sip and the liquid scalds his tongue. You laugh. “Gotta cool it down, silly.” 

He feels silly. In fact, he feels beyond embarrassed that someone who is not a Sixamian is looking at him with the same eyes you look at an infant with. He has a strong need to reinforce his superiority over you. 

“Well I am Jungkook,” he announces proudly. “Jungkook of Sixam. The only Jungkook of Sixam, because we do not believe in sharing something as intimate as our names with another,” he huffs. You scoff, a genuine look of amusement crossing your features that Jungkook simply does not understand. 

It’s with a practiced grace that you set your cup down on the counter, face coming to a rest in in the palm of your hand as you watch him talk over himself about the intricacies of Sixamian names, and how each one is carefully selected at one’s first celebration to honor the first long year of life they overcame. That look on your face, that disgustingly entertained expression does not melt away, even when Jungkook hastily calls your people imbeciles to your face. 

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, staring deep into the contents of your hot cocoa, as you had called it when offering him a second cup, as if you don’t seem to disagree in the slightest. “Humans are like that. 

There’s a quality to your voice, a rather melancholy tone that curls around your words that stops Jungkook’s tirade against your race for a moment. There’s a look in your eyes, hollow and alone, that he cannot place. He wonders if it’s from past experiences or from a shared Human trauma. Either way, he does not understand. 

It’s with a shake of your head that you look up at him again, sweet smile back on your features. “Humans are selfish creatures, Jungkook,” you say. 

He is not sure if he believes you. 

Jungkook has traveled to many parts of the universe, has visited places your tiny Human brain may never comprehend. Yet he has not always received this treatment. There have been missions where he has been picked on and abused for his curiosity, rudely ejected back into the vast emptiness of space just because he wanted to know more, learn more. Not every planet welcomes him with a soft smile and a warm place to stay. 

Despite the initial unimpressed confusion he felt upon entering Planet 43 Z-7, there is something about the quirk of your lips and gentle tapping of your fingers that intrigues him. 

Huh, he thinks, subconsciously cataloguing your mannerisms in his head. He will write about this later. 

You let Jungkook sleep in your quarters, a small area with a mattress that he sinks into with delight. There’s a change of clothing you set out on the edge of the bed, a rather shabby set that matches yours. He is reluctant to peel away his bodysuit, even more so when he realizes he is standing naked on a foreign planet with a very strange creature clattering around downstairs. He hurries into the clothes. 

You peek your head into the room later on, carefully flicking off the lights as he settles onto the mattress. Jungkook is beyond tired, body fatigued from hurtling thousands of light years through space in such a short amount of time. The abundance of breathable oxygen is still something his body has to grow accustomed to. Your voice is soft as you whisper out a goodnight farewell that he can only sleepily mumble back. 

Jungkook is quite literally the most gorgeous person you have ever seen. Well, person is a stretch considering you’re not entirely sure what he is, or where he’s from. When you found him, sadly crouched in the middle of nowhere, you wanted to convince yourself he was some random college boy lost on his way to a costume convention. But he’s not. His big purple irises are oddly bright, practically luminescent, and that’s definitely not something one could achieve through stage makeup. And he’s not a college student either, despite how youthful he looks, but a foreign being at least three times your age. 

Or so he says. 

Honestly, you’re torn between wanting to write him off a nutjob or believing he is this highly intelligent extraterrestrial being. In the case he is the latter, you find it odd that of all the planets in your solar system— a whopping eight, maybe nine —he chose crappy old Earth to visit. 

Jungkook moves like a fine tuned instrument, graceful limbs wandering around your home and backyard the next morning. His little head piece, a unique accessory that wraps around the base of his skull like a microphone headset or something, seems to keep him in constant communication with his fellow brethren so long as he wears it. So he wears it all the time. 

Still, you’re able to differentiate between his messages back home and his mindless mumbles. Those usually happen more often than not, soft muttering as he inspects your garden, vivid descriptions of the plainest things like an onion. 

“Lemonade’s ready,” you call, stepping into your backyard. Jungkook peers over your rosemaries like a bunny, wide eyes scanning the pitcher you set out on your back porch’s table. Carefully, he steps around your meticulous rows of vegetables. He’s wearing the clothes you lent him last night, a pair of shorts and a shirt your brother had left when he visited a few weeks ago. They fit him nicely, shorts just shy of his knees. 

“This is lemond-aid?” he asks quizzically, tentative hands reaching for the quickly perspiring glass. He has unique markings that begin at his hands, twisting and curling carefully around his arms. They’re gold in the sunlight, contrasting softly against his relatively peachy skin. There’s a matching set on his knees that wrap over and around his thighs, beneath his shorts. He looks every bit the celestial being, yet here he is marveling over the lemon slice balanced on the rim of his glass. 

“Lemonade,” you correct, sitting down on your rocking chair. Your floppy sun hat protects you from the brutal rays of the sun, practically scorching in this summer heat. It reminds you of the honeymoon you were supposed to take a few months back. You stomp out the memory. 

Jungkook takes tentative sips, stopping every few seconds to smack his lips at the taste. Then, suddenly, he’s plopping down on the wooden planks of your porch criss-cross applesauce. The bracelet-like contraption he had removed from his suit is sitting on his wrist by itself, with Jungkook rapidly tapping some unseeable button on it until a blue hologram appears between the two of you. 

“Woah,” you gasp, the projection flawless and stable. Jungkook gets to work tapping at it, unrecognizable symbols appearing on the screen. His glass of lemonade is by his knee, ice tinkling inside. 

“Lemond-aide,” he repeats, mouth moving awkwardly around the world. He glances at you for confirmation. You shake your head. Frustrated, he scoots up beside you, pressed against your leg like a puppy. “Say it,” he commands, tapping at his screen once. 

You clear your throat. “Uh, lemonade?” you offer. Jungkook nods, clicks something else, and then your voice is repeating itself back to the two of you. He looks for your approval once more. “Perfect,” you nod, slightly bashful to hear your own voice played back like that. 

Content with your approval, he gets back to work, clicking and typing wildly at the screen until it’s filled to the brim with those strange symbols. When he’s done, he says his name and date into the same recording device and shuts off his hologram. “It is an interesting thing,” he says quietly, bare feet swinging over the edge of the porch. “A sweet drink procured from a tangy fruit.” 

You nod, can’t stop the smile that consumes your features at his childlike wonder. You know it’s not his fault that such simple things astound him, but there’s something about Jungkook’s genuine curiosity and snarky tongue that make you feel young again. Like a teenager in her prime, sitting with a silly high school boy. Not a woman sitting on the cusp of thirty, alone and untrusting of the world. 

“What are hot dogs?” Jungkook cuts in abruptly, turning to face you with those purple eyes of his. You can’t help it; you laugh. 

“I have some in the fridge,” you answer, leaving your rocking chair and him on the porch. Jungkook doesn’t sit still for long, quietly trailing behind you inside the house. The stray cat is here today, slinking around your ankles as you scour the fridge for the hot dogs. It’s a perfect day for a barbecue, you think, with hot dogs and lemonade. 

The cat wanders over towards Jungkook, sniffing at his ankles before nuzzling against him too. “You also have smilodon on your planet,” he comments. “You are comfortable with such murderous beasts in your home?”

You furrow your brows. “It’s just a cat,” you shrug, leaning down to pick up the furry baby. He purrs against your chest while Jungkook glares at it. 

“Have you taken its teeth for your own?” he asks. 

“What?” you laugh. “He has all his teeth.” 

Jungkook frowns. “No, his unusually large canines,” he explains, mimics two giant fangs with his fingers. “Is this a kitten of a smilodon?” You have no idea what he’s saying at this point, rubbing the cat’s back gently as Jungkook talks over himself. He does that a lot, you realize, ramble about facts you would otherwise see as of little importance. 

The afternoon is spent grilling hot dogs, Jungkook carefully trailing the cat he has taken to calling Smilodon. You watch from the grill as he follows the cat around the garden, gently shooing it off when it gets too close to your broccoli plants. He’s cute, you think, watching him maneuver around your plants with the grace of a trained dancer. 

He absolutely adores the hot dogs, spending another twenty minutes typing out one of those funky journal entries into the computer in his wristband. He asks about the Nintendo DS, something that makes you laugh boisterously at the absurdity of the question. 

When it gets dark outside, he stands in one place and stares up at the sky, rendered motionless at the sight. Jungkook doesn’t like coffee, but he loves hot cocoa. He settles in to watch the nightly news with you, every five minutes filled with an abundance of questions about your planet— which he refers to by a unique set of numbers and letters you’ve never heard before —and what you like to do. Every tidbit of information is documented in his wristband. 

He sleeps on the couch this time, feeling shameful to have pulled you away from such an amazing mattress. He says goodnight shyly from the bottom of the stairs, followed by a tentative wave he saw you give the mailman that morning. You say it back and fall asleep, the alien in your living room not making a peep. 

Thus a whole week passes with Jungkook of Sixam.

On the seventh day of his stay, Jungkook is woken up by the quiet beeping of his headpiece. It’s Chief Kim Namjoon, calling to ask how his population operation of Planet 43 Z-7 is going. Jungkook stills, the quiet chirping of the birds outside your window filling in the space. The water is running somewhere inside your house, signaling your conscious state. 

His answers are quick and sharp, nervous laughter falling from his lips as he rushes to end the call with Namjoon. He manages to do so just as you appear in the living room, skin nice and dewy from your morning shower, eyes still showing signs of your peaceful slumber. 

“Good morning,” you rasp quietly, a soft ruffle of his hair as you pass by Jungkook on your way to the kitchen. His face feels warm, under eye markings surely glowing a vivid red at the gesture you have gradually ingrained into him, one that makes his heart rev up like an engine preparing to shoot off millions of light years into the distance. 

Jungkook enters the kitchen behind you, your pet smilodon greeting the two of you with a gentle head butt against his ankles that is unlike any other smilodon he has encountered before. He sits at the counter as you work on breakfast, the faint scent of your cucumber body scrub wafting by with every turn you make in the small kitchen. 

And then he’s thinking. 

There are a few crucial bits of information that Jungkook has come to realize over the past week, some of which he hears directly from you, others he picks up from watching your ancient projection in the living room. 

One: of the variety of human genders that exist on Earth, you are one that seems to carry the specific set of bodily structures necessary for reproduction. He’s inspected you carefully the last few days, watching the way you move and carry yourself, just to ensure such is true. By finding you right away, Jungkook was halfway to his goal of settling his seeds on Planet 43 Z-7. 

Two: unlike most humans of Planet 43 Z-7, your body seems oddly… preserved, to say the least. He knows you are familiar with their reproductive rituals as he’s watched a few of said rituals on the projection box in your living room with you. They were very normalized among your people, with almost every broadcast including at least one mention of them every day. Despite that, your body shows no significant reaction to the scenes, and one sneaky scan of your vitals shows Jungkook that you have yet to participate in this ritual yourself. 

Lastly, Jungkook has come to the terrible, godawful conclusion that he does not wish to rope you into breeding with him for the sake of Sixam’s colonialist ways. There’s something about you and your people that does not deserve to be seized by Jungkook and his people. A sort of untouched quality of the progression of your species.

As the oldest and most advanced planet in quite possibly the entire universe, Sixam holds significant power over everyone else. Their higher order brains have helped many a planet follow the right path in attaining the same level of perfection. They were saviors of some sort, touching every planet they visited with the finger of a god. While there were certainly some Sixamians who did not believe in this way of life, of stretching their hold across entire galaxies, others did. 

Jungkook had always fallen in the middle. He had no particular desire to reign over the planets he visited, because his interests had always laid with the existence of the individuals on said planets. He was a researcher, not a military official like Namjoon or Jin. But he has to admit that time and again his research has procured the same results; while there were certainly other planets where the beings were more beautiful or the landscape more stunning than that of Sixam, there was not a single planet that matched their advanced mental capabilities. 

Until now. 

Your civilization moved in a rather fluid way, always changing and never settling. There were eras he learned about on TV, revolutions where one invention rose to prominence, where one sub-race rose to power. Even now, a simple scan through your news broadcasts leaves Jungkook curious. For the first time in a long time, his countless journal entries of information do not lead him to a plausible conclusion. Would you make it right and settle your disputes? Or would this endless fighting, sometimes carried out passively and through words, other times with the use of advanced weaponry, continue until the end of time? Jungkook didn’t know. 

And it was wrong of him to ask you to carry the burden of introducing an entirely new species— a Human and Sixamian at once —for the sole belief that it would somehow “fix” your planet. For the sake of your people, it was best if Jungkook just bugged off. 

And yet, the soft scent of your body lotion, the gentle brush of your hands against his scalp, the delicate way his name rolls off your lips like you’re tasting it for the first time, they all make his heart beat unnaturally fast beneath his skin. They make him yearn for a feeling, an emotion, he cannot quite describe. 

He was in trouble. 

Ovulation creeps up on you early into the next week. 

You hadn’t been too focused on it this time around, mostly just worried about your period and how awkward it would feel around Jungkook of Sixam. Preoccupied with stockpiling pads and finding your heat pad, you forget about the few days before the period. The time where your libido rages like an animal that has been poked at one too many times. 

The realization dawns on you slowly. Jungkook is sitting on the couch, avidly watching a documentary on ancient civilizations. He’s got one hand in a bowl of popcorn you set out for him, another mindlessly toying with a stray thread on a throw pillow. It’s when he looks at you with those big purple eyes, lips pouty and pink, that something distinctly carnal flickers on inside of you. 

You ignore it. You wrap those feelings in a box and shove it deep into the recesses of your mind. 

But Jungkook was devastatingly handsome, that much you’d known from the moment you saw him. When he’s not in the sun, those Sixamian markings wrap around his body in charcoal streaks, peeking out from the hem of whatever clothes you find for him everyday. For the most part, he’s been running through the pack of plain shirts you picked up from the general store, and the same two pairs of shorts on rotation. His body is artfully toned, thighs big and bulging, but waist small and tapered. His lower lip is the juiciest pink color you’ve ever seen, plush and soft, framing two rows of pearly white teeth. His hair is jet black, part favoring one side more than the other. 

His hands are firm on the rare occasion he touches you; on your hips when you stumble around the kitchen, on your shoulder when he’s pointing out a particular constellation to you. Jungkook’s presence slowly begins driving you to insanity. 

The worst thing is, you cannot tell if his curiosity comes from your status as a potential partner or his overall interests in your species. You want to convince yourself that he is just as interested in your body as an individual as you are his, but those hopes are dashed with every question he asks. Where does the sink drain? Where does the chocolate powder come from? How far is the nearest government official? 

So you calm your thoughts, push them away with the same practiced ease you’ve mastered from a young age. Your purity remains untainted by others, only teased in the shower when Jungkook is wandering around outside. Then and only then do you offer yourself a reprieve, press your fingers down between your thighs and wonder what it is like to have someone else there. 

You picture two purple eyes peering up at you from below, a pink tongue carefully licking against your puffy folds until you’re shaking. How well endowed was a Sixamian? You didn’t know, but you imagine them to be quite big if the subtle shifts you catch of Jungkook every now and then are any sign. 

One finger wiggles past the tight ring of muscle surrounding your hole, the intrusion makes your knees buck. You sink along the shower wall, huffing and puffing as your fingers dance along your swollen clit, thumb swirling hurried circles around the bud until you’re cumming, body spasming from the force.

The water rains down on you, washes your shameful acts down the drain. Vaguely, you wonder if Jungkook is still outside or if the heat drove him into your air conditioned home. Did he hear you? For all his curiosity, you’re certain there are some aspects of the human experience that Jungkook did not want to see. His roommate/caretaker/only-human-friend masturbating was probably one of them.  

It has been years since your fantasies included any other man, faithfully revolving around your ex-fiancé until the very end. It is scary how quickly the mere idea of Jungkook riles you up, how that violet gaze is enough to tear you apart. 

When you resurface in the living room, the house is still. The only sounds are that of the grandfather clock in the hallway and the occasional creaking of the pipes. Jungkook is still outside, you sigh in relief, catching his fluffy head of hair bounding across the front yard with Smilodon on his heels. When he turns, you catch his eyes and he pauses. He offers you that same cute wave he learned last week, gentle smile gracing his features. 

It’s the soft curve of his cheeks, eyes crinkling at the corners, that make the rapid thumping in your chest settle. You raise your hand, waving back through the window. All was well. 

For now. 

The next morning brings with it an overwhelming sense of anxiety. Namjoon calls him again in the morning, and this time Jungkook cannot skirt around the truth. He hurriedly tells his friend of his findings, of the beautiful society that flourishes on Planet 43 Z-7, and the never-ending personalities he has the chance of encountering. There is an author fansign, you told him, of a book he thoroughly enjoyed taking place next week. There is a woman in town who can fix any technology sent her way. There is a group of children who pass by and sell you food, these flattened things called Girls Cout Cook Ease. There is so much to see and so much to learn that it has Jungkook unconsciously projecting his excitement via his under eye markings. 

You come downstairs mid-call, smiley and ditzy. You were normally a bubbly person, but this much excitement can’t possibly be yours. It’s the sign Jungkook needs to settle down, but Namjoon offers him one too. 

Much to his chagrin, he warns Jungkook against getting too comfortable, tells him to finish his operation and scram as quickly as possible. The Higher Sixamian Court does not take kindly to Sixamians becoming enamored with other planets, especially if they are as advanced as Jungkook claims them to be. He’s rushing out information, begging Jungkook to finish or abandon his mission, anything but stay too long, and before Jungkook can respond, their comms are abruptly shut off. 

He’s left blankly staring at your coffee table, Namjoon’s caution ringing loudly in his ears. 

After the effects of his accidental influence wear off on you, you shake yourself awake, confusedly glancing around the place before shrugging it off. “Morning,” you say, the same as ever, patting his head softly. Jungkook watches you begin your daily routine, the kettle running on the stove as you get to work preparing his hot cocoa. 

For a moment he wonders what it’s like to be like this, to live like this. Free from the standards of Sixam as you go about your morning. There is no drive in you to conquer everyone, no overwhelming need to ‘fix’ those around you. You exist by yourself in this tiny house outside the city, like a moon always circling but never interacting. He knows you have your own circumstances that drove you here, issues where you suffered that same grueling past of people forcing ideas and beliefs upon you as Jungkook. But now you’re here, housing an extraterrestrial being such as himself without any payment. 

He wants to be like you. 

He wanders over towards the kitchen, returning your sleepy smile when you catch his gaze. Jungkook likes this. He enjoys seeing you in the morning, still trailed by the remnants of sleep, with skin tender to the touch. The smell of cocoa filling his nostrils, the chirp of the birds outside your window. He likes Smilodon and the mailman, and the woman half a mile from here who brought you peaches the other day. 

Most importantly, Jungkook likes you. 

Not as a breeding partner or convenient hostess, but as a person. Your laughter makes him feel warm inside, like he is genuinely appreciated as is. You’re gentle with your words, and even more so with your touch; hands pat his head, hold his arm when he stumbles too close to the garden. 

Jungkook does not want to impress the frankly tyrannical ways of his planet on you. He just wants to stay here and keep your couch warm for you, hold your hair back when you wash your face in the morning. 

He wants to remain beside you. 

It’s a little stuffy inside your house today, a problem you solve by cracking open the kitchen window. A nice breeze flows over the two of you, pushing the scent of the cocoa and your coffee his way. But a sweeter one follows, something thick and earthy that rolls off of you in waves. Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, tries to ward off those sounds he heard from you just yesterday afternoon. 

Those whiny sounds, airy whimpers that had drifted down from upstairs. A wet squelch that had registered a little too loudly to his superior ears. It had haunted him last night on the couch, made Jungkook twist and turn until the fuzzy image of you relieving yourself went away. 

Jungkook wanted to help with that too. He wanted to put his hands and his mouth in places you needed him most, pleasure you like you deserved. 

But how could he tell you all this and more? Did he even have the right as an invader to profess his infatuation to you? This Planet 43 Z-7, this Earth, was filled to the brim with interesting things, yet you remained at the very top of Jungkook’s list. He couldn’t leave, not now, but he couldn’t stay either. His entire presence in itself was a ploy to spread his seed, a fact you continued to be unaware of. 

Namjoon’s words bounce around his brain, twist and wrap around him until he’s shakily reaching for his mug. He couldn’t stay here any longer under this false pretense. He couldn’t lie to you another day, another second more. He was tired of being a sheep. It’s with this conflicting resolve that he commands himself to confess this to you at once. 

So he spills it all out to you. 

From the complex history of the Sixamians to his assignment of this mission. You listen quietly as you munch through breakfast, nodding along to each new point he brings up that changes the story. He tells you about the population mission, about how he was sent here to spread his superior genes over the land, but how he’s let that sit on the back burner while you taught him all sorts of new things. If you are unimpressed with Jungkook and Sixam, you don’t show it. 

“So you came to... breed?” you ask when he has finished, hands neatly folded on your lap. Breakfast is finished, plate scraped clean. 

Jungkook nods shamefully. “I was asked to contribute to the reconstruction of Planet 43 Z-7,” he says, repeating the practiced reasoning every Sixamian has heard at least once in their life. But in front of you, it makes him cringe. 

The grandfather clock in the hallway clicks along quietly, the soundtrack to Jungkook’s desperate read of you. Your eyes are focused on the plate before you, lost in thought at the abundance of information he has just thrown on you. He could easily switch his influential abilities back on, brighten your mood like he has been taught to do with countless other species since the beginning of time. But it feels wrong to subject you to that, to strip you of your emotions, even if it would save him the discomfort. 

Instead he sits in silence. 

Jungkook waits patiently, even though every fiber in his being is telling him to get up and make a run for it. Escape before he can see a look of disgust aimed his way. But he has come to value your opinions as equal to his, and the thought of leaving you by yourself does not sit well with him. So he waits. 

It takes a few minutes of contemplation before you grace him with an answer, nervously rubbing your hands over your thighs. “I understand, Jungkook,” you exhale tightly. “But I don’t think I’m the partner you are looking for.”

“No! I was not— It was not my intention,” he stammers, waving his hands all over the place in his hurry to explain. He sucks in a sharp breath. “I do not wish to force such a burden on you, __,” he manages, “I would not do that to you.”

He is about to pat himself on the back for his save, when suddenly the corners of your lips take a sharp drop. “Oh, I see,” you mutter, arms self consciously wrapping around your frame. “So you don’t see me as a suitable partner?” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen at your drawn conclusion. “No,” he chokes, and your frown deepens. “I mean, yes, I do see you as a viable partner to engage in reproductive activities,” and now he’s spiraling, the surprised look on your face only fueling his pea-brained ramblings, “I just—I assumed you did not enjoy that? 

His excuse sounds so unbelievably weak even to his own ears. 

“What made you think that?” you ask. At the rate this conversation is going, Jungkook fears his brain will soon fry itself out. 

His mind is a spinning mess, like the inside of a vacuum that rumbles and turns with each new thought that enters. What was he supposed to say? That he’s heard you in your most intimate moments, moments where you hid from him? Or that he’s done countless scans on your body when you weren’t looking and came to the same result every time; that result being that you have never been touched by another before? And what was he supposed to draw from these conclusions if not that you abhorred such intimacy?  

“I-I heard… you,” Jungkook admits quietly. “And, I felt your emotions. They were nervous.” He does not need his thermal detector to feel the heat that floods your face. “I did not want to impose on such a fragile moment,” he continues. “And I apologize if my actions have made you uncomfortable.”

“No, no,” you wave off, pressing the back of your knuckles to your cheeks. “I apologize for doing something so inappropriate with you in my house.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows. “Do you not enjoy participating in sexual activities, __?” he asks curiously. 

You gulp loudly, obviously startled by his question. Which part of it, Jungkook doesn’t know. He nudges your knee with his, urging you to answer. A shaky exhale, and then you’re rambling. “I-No, I do,” you rush out, avidly avoiding his gaze. “I, um, I just have never, uh, been with anyone.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook blinks. “Is that why your reproductive areas are strangely well preserved for a being your age? I was beginning to wonder about the complexities of Human reproduction after meeting you, __. Is there a certain tradition one must follow to copulate with you?” 

“No, no,” you rush to correct. Jungkook has obviously said something that upset you, because when you speak again your aura is tainted with the hints of irritation. “Tradition is stupid,” you explain slowly, a sense of heartache consuming him at your rather lonely figure. He is beside you, yet feels a thousand light years away from your heart. “I was just a fool.”

His gaze softens, carefully placing a hand on your knee comfortingly. He doesn’t have to say anything more, just let you know he isn’t far at all, and you understand. You lean against his shoulder, the same sad look in your eyes. The grandfather clock ticks on in the hallway, in sync with the slow rhythm of your heart. Jungkook places a kiss to the crown of your head. 

The day drags on. 

Your morning chores are finished quickly with Jungkook at your side. He obsesses over the plants and plays with Smilodon. You make apple juice today with the fruits that fall from the tree out front. Jungkook enjoys it, but not as much as lemonade. Still, it gets its own entry in his log. 

He asks more questions about your world, straying away from the ones he had last week that seemed to exclusively revolve around the fauna and flora. Now, he is interested in your Human way of life. The TV confuses him, and he doesn’t quite understand the difference between dramas and news stations. So you explain as best you can for him. 

His main issue lies in his inability to comprehend the constant strife within your planet, especially when you explain to him topics like poverty or homelessness. Sixam is nothing like Earth, he says, because everyone on Sixam is looked after and taken care of as deemed appropriate. There is no division of classes because deep down, every Sixamian acknowledges they are superior to the rest of the universe. It sounds like a utopia to you, but you’ve read enough books to know how those usually turn out. 

That fact intrigues Jungkook as well. How Humans can be aware of so many altering concepts and beliefs, yet desensitized to all. He doesn’t get it, and explaining the concept of fiction existing on a separate plane only confuses him more. 

Eventually you bring it back to tradition, somehow, that dreaded word you’ve come to abhor. Jungkook enjoys learning about your culture and your way of life, little things you do here and there. But as most things do in your life, the conversation circles back around to your failed marriage. 

“Ah,” Jungkook says. “So it is tradition to save your first reproductive act for the one you ‘marry’?” You nod, toes tucked up into the couch. It’s a little before sunset now, the orange hue of the outdoors leaking into your living room. “And then you take their last name? That is very confusing, __. I thought this last name identified you to your fellow Human, how can you so easily change it around?” 

You laugh. “It's complicated,” you offer. Jungkook chuckles as well, obviously overwhelmed with all the new information you provided him with today. 

Jungkook nods pensively but you doubt he understands. “I see,” he mumbles, fingertip tapping against the armrest he’s leaning against. It’s a tell tale sign that he desperately wants to document what you’ve said in his supercomputer bracelet but is holding back for the sake of this moment. You think it’s rather sweet. “So copulation does not always secure you a partner.”

You shrug halfheartedly. “People have different drives,” you say. “Some of them want love and some just want sex.”

“And you?” he asks suddenly, big purple eyes swirling with entire galaxies. “What would you like?” 

A lot of things, you think, but when it comes down to it, when Jungkook asks you with his pretty eyes and pouty lips, you can’t find the right words. “Both,” is your measly reply. “What about you?” 

He seems just as thrown off by your question as you, eyes widening as he leans back. The living room is bathed in warm splashes of color, the last of the sun’s rays painting Jungkook in a rather romantic light. You can’t look away. “I too would like both,” he admits, idly tracing the tip of his finger along the markings that decorate the tops of his knees. “This notion of attraction beyond the physical realm is not common in Sixam,” he answers. “Sixam is very… strict about what a relationship entails. 

You set your mug down on the side table, shuffling around until your toes poke his hip, arm thrown over the back of the couch. “How so?” you ask. 

Jungkook’s lips push out into a frown. “The Higher Sixamian Court has long since ruled that mating rituals between citizens are strictly limited to those that will produce the most immaculate genome,” he says, as if that is just another simple, everyday fact of life. It is for him, but not for you. 

“So, are you like… assigned?” you press, suddenly wondering how a being as curious and sentimental as Jungkook has survived so long in a place like Sixam. “And like, do you raise kids together?”

“Until the end of their first era,” Jungkook supplies, as if that makes the slightest bit of sense. “And sort of. Sixam is not that oppressive,” he jokes, but there is something about his eyes missing their usual glow that tips you off. “I have yet to copulate for reproductive purposes.”

You pause. “But you have for… fun purposes?” 

Jungkook looks at you seriously. And then, ever so slowly, the little marks beneath the corners of his eyes, the little triangles that usually flare blue, fade into a lovely pink shade. “I-“ he stammers, obviously flustered by your question. “I have.”

Your mouth parts into a little o. “With other Sixamians? Or….” Jungkook flushes, nods meekly. His expression seems off, like it isn’t a particular fond memory he carries. “Was it bad or something?” 

He sighs. “It is… very lacking. Nothing like the scenes depicted in your projection box.” He nods towards the TV, you barely contain a giggle at its name. You reach for your mug instead. “There is no,” he waves a hand in front of his face. The last rays of sun catch on his hand and turn his charcoal  markings a pretty gold. “No expressions of adoration beyond what is necessary. And I do not particularly enjoy that.” 

You nod understandingly. “You're soft,” you tease, watch his little triangles light up again at your words. “It’s okay,” you reassure him, “so am I.”

He says nothing, just stares blankly out the front window as the sun disappears behind the horizons, leaving thousands of glittering lights in its wake. Not man made but natural; right. “I think your last name is lovely,” he suddenly announces. You chuckle against the lip of your mug, but Jungkook doesn’t find it amusing. He turns to you with that sparkling purple gaze, like you’ve hung those stars outside yourself. “There is no other __ ___ like you.”

Your face feels warm, and you’re not sure if it’s from the coffee steam rising from the mug or Jungkook’s unexpected reassurance. It makes your heart tender, sends a shock through your system that leaves your body buzzing. “Thank you,” you say sincerely, covering the palm he rests over the couch with yours. 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to. 

Ovulation ends, but your blossoming feelings for Jungkook do not go away. 

The next morning his comms remain shut off. Jungkook has never had his communications back home cut off, save for the time in his first era where he brashly spoke out against his superior in a lab. He was young and had much to learn, took too many risks and didn’t consider the consequences. He guesses he hasn’t grown much since then as he watches you tend to your garden. 

“Smilodon urinated in the closet,” he announces, witnessing the smile slowly slip off your features. He lets you revel in your annoyance for exactly two seconds before following with the phrase he heard on your box the other day. “Just kidding! You are being prank’d. 

Your frown is nothing like the expression the program’s contests exhibited following their supposed pranking. “Jungkook, that’s not funny,” you huff and his heart sinks. A soft snort. “Okay, maybe a little,” you concede with a terribly contained smile. 

He bounds over, kneels down beside you, and begins pulling the overgrown weeds out with you. “I saw it on the projection box the other day,” he explains excitedly, tossing the weeds into the bag between you two. “I did not know such pleasure could be received from silly broadcasts like that.” You nod, say something about all kinds of dumb shows existing before a pout taints your lips. “What's wrong?” 

A long sigh from you. “I think the sun isn’t reaching these,” you tell him, lifting the stem of a sad looking tomato plant. It’s the closest one to the house, often covered by the house’s shadow when the sun shines best. “They’re sad.”

He tilts his head to the side quizzically. “Sad?” he repeats, reaching for his wristband before he can stop to think. If his extensive journaling reads right, your planet’s vegetation follows similar patterns to that of another’s, requiring allotted amounts of sunlight and water to flourish. “How can it be sad?” 

Caught up in his notes, he doesn’t realize you’ve migrated to the other side of the garden now, dutifully picking out more weeds. “Well, it looks sad doesn’t it?” Jungkook glances back again. The tomato stalk is significantly droopy and malformed, smaller than its brethren who sit only a few inches away in direct sunlight. It’s colors are dulled and almost… sad. Huh. How peculiar. 

He chances one glance back at you, deems you far enough, and then channels the entirety of his energy towards the tomato plant. It wiggles a few times, kind of like it’s dancing, before you’re calling his name from the other side. “What’re you doing?” you ask, hand on your hip. Jungkook stills. 

“Um,” he drawls. The plant returns to its sulky state. 

Garbage bag full of weeds, you pass by him with a shake of your head. “Don’t do anything weird to my plants, silly,” you chide. Jungkook huffs, follows behind to take the bag off your hands. You thank him, join him for his walk around the house until he tosses the bag into the garbage can out front. Before he can retort and engage you in a playful argument regarding his superior abilities, you’re crouching down by the spigot out front. It’s making a weird hissing noise that has Jungkook frowning as he walks over. 

Right as he approaches, you make the amateur mistake of turning the handle, water spewing out from the gap between the spigot’s mouth and where it’s supposed to meet the hose. You screech, and Jungkook can’t shut it off fast enough. 

In the end, both of you are drenched. 

“Ugh,” you groan as you walk around the house to the unlocked back door. Jungkook trudges behind, just a teensy bit annoyed by the mud that quickly stains his rubber sandals. “This is so annoying!” you complain loudly, shaking yourself off like Smilodon when it accidentally fell into the sink the other day. “Ruined my day.”

At that Jungkook frowns. He does not want your day to be ruined, especially not by some faulty spigot outside. You were too good for such emotions, too perfect in his eyes. Sadness and the like did not suit you; they had no place ruining your beautiful features. You’re huffily patting yourself down at the back porch now, distress prominent on your features as you most likely consider the second load of laundry you will have to do today. 

The tomato stalk glances at him sadly from the ground, and before Jungkook can stop himself, he’s breathing in deeply and pushing his generally relaxed attitude onto you. You can be mad later, but right now Jungkook doesn’t want to see you sad. It’s effective immediately, your gloominess quickly fading away. You breathe in deeply, eyes falling shut, and when you open them again you’re offering him the most gentle smile he has ever seen. 

And a soaked through shirt that highlights the shape of your red undergarments. Jungkook’s eyes widen, unconsciously flicking down to the sight you present him with, and a different emotion floods his senses. 

It’s quite possibly his biggest mistake. Because while he can easily look away, it takes longer for those emotions to fade, and soon they’re being reflected on you. 

“Wow,” you exhale, shaking your head in confusion because these aren’t your emotions— you probably know they’re his. Jungkook feels terrible instantly. 

“I’m sorry,” he rushes out, scrambling up the steps to guide you inside. Simultaneously, he’s shutting down his influential abilities, scolding himself for slipping up with you like this. You most certainly did not want to feel this way around Jungkook, yet here he was quite literally projecting onto you. “Please, let’s go inside.” 

You nod, jolt when his hand touches the small of your back as he guides you in. “Oh,” you gasp, and Jungkook has to bite his lip to force himself from making the situation worse, from thinking thoughts you would not approve of. “Why— what's happening?” you ask in a breathy tone, lingering by the staircase Jungkook tries to push you up. 

He sighs. “I— I was trying to brighten your mood,” he admits, metaphorical ears pressed against his head like when Smilodon gets scolded for knocking down a plant. “And, um. There was— the, um, sight of your undergarments distracted me for a moment.” You glance down and seemingly become aware for the first time that your bright red bra is on display, shyly covering yourself with your arms. 

“Distracted?” you mumble softly, leaning against the banister of the stairs. Your skin is radiating more heat than Jungkook ever recalls, face demurely turned down towards the floor. He could have sworn he stopped projecting minutes again— why were you still behaving like this? Did he break you? Did he exude more energy than he meant to, accidentally extend the length of the emotions? “I’ll go upstairs now,” you announce quietly, touch his arm almost sensually as you pass by. 

Your skin is warm, that heavenly scent that Jungkook craved rolling off in waves— but he was certain he’d stopped himself before anything became too overwhelming. Were his emotions stronger than he had fooled himself into believing? There was no way he had felt or looked as riled up when he accidentally influenced you. So where exactly were these emotions coming from? What exactly was making you behave this way even after he’d withdrawn his influence? Could it be...

Jungkook watches with wide eyes, almost certain that your behavior, though sparked by his initial slip up, was entirely your own at this point. 

There was a lot of weight behind that. 

The water turns on upstairs, and he has to strain his ears, still his breathing, just for a hint of your sounds. But they’re there, quiet successors to the louder moans you’d let out the other day. They make him shiver, melt against the staircase as his cock twitches in his pants. His body comes alive, something distinctly carnal twitching beneath his skin, blossoming out at the base of his spine. 

And still, as he grinds his hand into his palm, it is not merely the sight of your red undergarments that render Jungkook useless. No, the ghost of your smile at his poorly executed prank follows, brands itself into the inside of his eyelids as he slowly falls apart. 

Was it your own emotions that had made you like that? he wonders, sinking to his knees in the hallway. If you came down right now, you’d certainly catch him. But Jungkook can still hear your muffled cries from upstairs, and furthermore, Jungkook wanted desperately for you to catch him. He knows you won’t, but the idea makes him shiver, has him coming in his bottoms shamefully. 

“What the,” he huffs, sweat trailing down his forehead. His brain replays that look in your eyes. That emotion you displayed that, although it may have been planted by him, was taken by you and magnified. Had you been just as excited by the sight of Jungkook’s wet body as he had yours? And if such was the case, was your attraction to him limited to the physical realm?

He doesn’t want to delude himself, but your words from the other day ring loudly in his ears. Soft, you had called him, for wanting something both physically and emotionally intimate. But you were the same, or so you claimed. 

Was it so wrong for Jungkook to think that ideology applied now?

That night you join Jungkook outside for his routine stargazing. He sits on the porch while you sit on your rocking chair, mugs of hot cocoa in hand as Jungkook retells his adventures across the universe. 

Space is bigger than you thought, with a culture far more complex than Earth’s. It makes you wonder how Jungkook, who has quite literally seen it all, can become so enamored with this place. There’s bigger and better somewhere out there; planets that won’t force terrible traditions on him or task him into ungodly missions. Yet he lingers here, in this quiet space between your garden and your house, head on your lap. 

His hair is soft, almost like silk, and he enjoys having it touched. “I do not wish to leave,” he admits quietly, empty mug long since set aside. You hum, encourage him to elaborate. “The beauty of the universe lies entirely on Planet 43 Z-7.” 

You snort. “No way,” you say, trace your hand down his jawline. Jungkook says nothing of your wandering hands, skin warm to the touch. Some of his markings decorate his neck, curl around the pale skin in perfectly symmetrical swoops. They creep beneath the hem of his shirt, and you wonder what they look like down there. 

You flush those thoughts away, that afternoon’s events still fresh in your mind. From your understanding of the events, Jungkook had been excited at the sight of your body, so he obviously had to hold some attraction towards you. But how much of that was purely physical and how much was emotional? 

“I want to have your last name,” he announces suddenly. You choke, breath caught in your throat from the randomness of the statement. Your reaction makes Jungkook pull away from your touch, stare at you with wide eyes like you do him. 

“I— what?” you stammer, having gained back your composure. Or at least some of it. “Jungkook, I don’t think you know what that means.”

He frowns, shuffles around until he’s facing you, and lays his head across your lap again. This time, those purple eyes that dance with nebulas and stardust zero in on you. His hair tickles your bare thighs, makes you unconsciously press them together when his warm breath fans across your skin. “You amaze me,” he murmurs, eyes glazed. “I have never seen a being like you, who lives so far off from society, thrive in their own bubble— is it too much for me to want to live like you? Be with you?”

“Huh?” you ask, ever so eloquently. 

Jungkook smiles, turns his face to hide it against you. Pink lips brush against your skin, your hands unconsciously shooting into his hair to guide him away. When his head rolls back, he’s got this rather melancholy look on his face. “The beauty of the universe lies entirely on Planet 43 Z-7,” he says again, “and I am looking right at her.” 

Your face burns. 

Heart hammering in your chest, palms sweaty, you don’t know what to say. He looks at you with that vibrant gaze, drinks you in like you’re the finest of wines and your heart absolutely cannot handle it. Your brain fumbles for a response but by then Jungkook is standing up, head tilted downwards cutely as he observes you. One hand in his, thumb gently swiping over your knuckles. “I would like to show you every expression of adoration possible, __,” he murmurs, presses a kiss to your knuckles before disappearing back inside. 

You stay outside, turning his words inside and out, backwards and forwards, until you deduce that Jungkook of Sixam most definitely harbored the same feelings for you as you did for him. It’s odd, because it is exactly what you want but the idea scares you to death. The last time you let a man into your life under a similar guise you ended up wasting years of your life, clinging to this grand finale you never got. And now this foreign being was proclaiming his feelings for you, possibly propositioning you for the same thing. 

Did you want Jungkook? Yes, undoubtedly yes. He was free from the shackles of tradition that had held you down so long, didn’t believe in this twisted notion of your body being “sacred.” He was a breath of fresh air, unlike anyone you’ve ever met before (although part of that was due to his alien heritage).

However, he was not free of flaws, and perhaps that is what entices you more.

Jungkook, though he looked and spoke like the perfect man, was a being of his own, with struggles of his own. He too had his own handful of painful memories, toxic ideologies that followed him around. But Jungkook was willing to learn, to change. And you admired him for it. 

Tip-toeing back inside, you find the house shrouded in darkness. The steady tick of the grandfather clock lessens the rapid beating of your heart. Jungkook is sitting on the living room couch, legs pulled to his chest. Muscle memory has you reaching out for the top of his head like always, ready to pat his fluffy hair as if you hadn’t just spent the last twenty minutes outside doing just that. He turns around just as your fingers touch his soft strands, purple eyes meeting yours. You trace your hand down the side of his face, knuckles brushing over his cheekbones; he puckers his lips, bestows a second tender smooch against you. 

“I like when you do that,” he says, voice unexpectedly loud in the otherwise silent house. As he speaks, he shifts to the side, arm thrown over the back of the couch to look at you completely. You swipe your thumb over his bottom lip and he gulps. “Makes me crazy.” 

You chuckle, releasing him to round the couch. Jungkook’s got this sweet smile on his face, hand outstretched for you. When you take it, he tugs you onto the couch, flush beside him. Your thigh is practically thrown over his, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders. You heart flutters and you can no longer look him in the eye. 

But that’s okay because Jungkook can. He ducks down, dark hair tickling your skin as his breath ghosts over your lips. “May I?” he asks softly, nose bumping against yours. “May I have the honor of pleasuring you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, answering with a tiny nod that makes his lower lip brush against yours teasingly. “I-If I am suitable,” you mumble, tingles spreading all over your body. 

Jungkook smiles, pretty and bright, as he turns his head to slot your mouths together. “No,” he says, “if I am suitable. You are more than enough.” Lips brush against yours, shaky breath meets yours, and then he’s kissing you. Slow yet suave, carefully molding against you as if he is afraid of breaking you. His lips are like two soft pillows, moving against yours in a practiced rhythm that makes you tremble against him. Every bit the measly virgin, but Jungkook likes you just so. 

He pulls away with a pop, his figure shadowed by the darkness of the room. But his eyes, purple irises, glow brightly. Like two pools of cosmic dust swirling around his dark pupils. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this before, but you hardly saw Jungkook in the dark anyway. He hides them too soon, eyes fluttering shut as he leans in again. 

The second time, there’s a faint flick of his tongue against your bottom lip. The action makes you gasp quietly, lips parting for a fraction of a second. But Jungkook is quick, slips his tongue past your lips. It’s lewd; his breath mingles with yours, tongue pushing against yours. Slick and dirty, spit traveling between your two mouths, but Jungkook makes sure you’re okay, sinfully wrapping his lips around your tongue when you get too brave. A moan escapes you, fingers squeezing around his. 

Jungkook squeezes back, pushes forward until you’re pressed against the back cushions of the couch. “This okay?” he husks, low-lidded eyes meeting yours when he pulls away. You nod, words caught in your throat. Jungkook’s gaze lasers in on your mouth, and he seems to have an internal debate before eventually pulling away to kiss your neck. 

You tilt your head back, choppy exhales creeping out from between your lips as he kisses down the column of your neck, untangling his hand from yours to press against your hip instead. It’s with a devastatingly slow speed that he eventually slinks away, finds himself kneeling between you on the floor with hands dancing over the tops of your thighs. Your heart is beating a thousand miles in your chest, threatening to rip itself right out when he meets your eyes a second time. 

He pushes your legs apart, not once looking away as he gently encourages you to raise one. Lips pressed against your knee, slowly trailing down the skin of your thigh. Your hand squeezes at the couch cushions. Jungkook pulls a startled yelp from you when he tugs at the backs of your knees, makes you slump down the couch with your legs perfectly spread out for him, feet flat on the floor. Then he’s back to kissing you, languidly pressing smooch after smooch against your scorching skin until he’s reaching the apex of your thighs, stilling once to look your way. 

“Go ahead,” you choke out, hands clutched over your chest, as if that’ll keep your heart from up and running away. Jungkook takes your admission and moves on, puckered lips meeting your mound through your clothing. It’s the first time you’ve ever had someone else so close to your most sensitive areas, and rightly so, you whimper. 

“Shh,” he soothes, thumb pressing against your hip as he carefully hikes one of your legs over his shoulder. You’re quivering like a leaf, lower lip bitten raw between your teeth as you watch him move between your legs. “I don’t wish to hurt you,” Jungkook murmurs. 

Another press of his mouth against you, this time right over where your bud hides, and the sensation makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. His fingers tighten around the waistband of your shorts, take your underwear with them when he begins pulling them down your hips. You push yourself up briefly, let him slide them down your legs and bare yourself to him for the first time. 

Your cheeks flood with warmth, hands unconsciously reaching to pull your shirt down, but Jungkook catches you. Fingers tangle with yours, warm breath fanning over your slick folds. Unconsciously, you tense up at his proximity, the stark realization that this was the moment you had waited for for a good chunk of your life suddenly hitting you. Jungkook seems to notice you crawl inside your head, drawing you back with a squeeze around your hand, luminous eyes meeting yours. 

“If you need me to stop, I will,” he reassures you.

The blood is rushing to your ears, his words nearly lost in the madness. “Aren’t you scared?” you ask quietly, voice wobbly, holding his hands so tightly you’re surprised he doesn’t complain.

Jungkook shakes his head. “No,” he answers. “Would you like to know how I feel?”

Hesitantly, you nod. Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut, but the little triangle markings beneath his eyes begin to glow. Like fireflies in the dark, two little lights that intensify as he exhales.

And then, suddenly, you’re flooded with a new wave of emotions, similar to yours but not. They feel like yours, but are distinctly his, make you arch against the cushions with a soft groan. 

At the forefront, lust that swarms your senses and makes your body melt into the couch beneath you. It makes you shiver, nipples peaked beneath your top as his feelings and their intensity grow on you. It feels like drowning, like swallowing a thick and sticky substance that lingers in your throat and refuses to go away. It’s how he feels about you at this moment, so strongly it could drown him. 

So overwhelmed with that sensation alone, you almost don’t recognize the second emotion that Jungkook takes and pours into you. 

Warm and comforting, like being embraced by a thousand doves, kissed by a swarm of butterflies. It’s different from the first, doesn’t tap directly into your physical body, but wraps around your heart, creeps into your thoughts. Until you’re rolling your eyes back open and meeting his, the feeling so plainly spelled out across his features. 

Sheer and utter adoration. 

“Oh,” you breathe, face scorching to the touch following the emotions Jungkook’s just revealed to you. 

He grins, shy, and squeezes your hand. “What do you want to do?”

Biting your lip, you take initiative and hook your knee over his shoulder, the same way he had shown you just moments prior. “Please,” you murmur, “show me more.”

And Jungkook does.

A soft kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose running along your skin teasingly. And then he’s faced with your puffy lips, pink skin slick with arousal. Jungkook sighs softly, tilts his head as if he’s analyzing his next course of action, and then carefully places his mouth against you. 

“Mmmh,” you whimper, hips instinctively bucking into the touch, never having felt such intense pleasure before. Jungkook doesn’t mind as he languidly kisses your folds, eyes shut as he loses himself in the motions. The first swipe of his tongue makes you twitch, arms flailing but Jungkook holds them down, entwined fingers pressed against the couch. 

His tongue is an entity of its own, wet muscle pressing and licking at your most sensitive areas like it was made specifically for this. Never mind talking, Jungkook’s tongue was made to lap at your pussy like this. He licks a long stripe up from your quivering hole to your engorged clit, curling at the end as if you were nothing more but a sweet for him to mindlessly play with. 

Your muscles clench up, the leg thrown around his shoulder unconsciously pulling him closer until his nose is pressed flush against your clit. Jungkook breathes in deeply, moans softly but it sends earth-shattering vibrations up your core until you’re a whimpering mess. “O-Oh,” you cry, sweat clinging to your skin as Jungkook continues lapping at your folds. 

He releases one hand, uses it to push your other leg further away to properly slot himself against you. You take the opportunity to wildly reach for him, grabby hands lost in the silky waves on his head as you urge him closer to where you need him most. You’re not even sure where that is anymore, your clit or your entrance, but Jungkook switches between the two just fine. 

That warm tongue prods at your entrance, tip sinking inside just enough to make you gasp. It’s a new experience for you, someone’s tongue touching and stroking you there, and it feels like an entirely new door opens from that action alone. You whimper his name, dig your nails across his scalp like maybe he’ll grant you a reprieve and pull away. But you don’t really want that, and so you’re happy when he stays where he is. 

The hand that had rested against the juncture of your hip glides up, lays flat over your mound with his thumb idly swirling around your clit. The combination of his tongue breaching your hole and his fingers playing along your clit makes you spasm. “Wait,” you sob, the muscles in your thighs twitching as he licks away. “I-I’m gonna—“

An overpowering wave of relief floods your senses shortly before that last syllable can escape your lips; everything goes tight and then suddenly you’re on a cloud, cum spilling from your heat and onto his waiting tongue. Jungkook licks it all up, slurps loudly against your clit as the last waves of your orgasm run their course. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing up your navel, t-shirt pushed away as he goes. 

When he reaches your face, you’re quite embarrassed to find the area around his mouth to be glistening with your juices. “You’re incredible,” he says, easygoing smile on his lips. But there’s something hard and heavy against you, snuggled between your thighs, that makes your face heat up all over again. 

You can’t find the words to respond, and lose the opportunity when Jungkook captures your lips with his again. He’s more assertive this time around, roughly pushing against you until you’re certain you’ll bruise. But it feels good, makes you wrap your hands around him as Jungkook grinds down against you. When he pulls away, he’s got this dark look on his face, out of place against such bright eyes. 

He says nothing as his hands creep up your waist, push your t-shirt and bra out of the way, until he’s cupping your breasts in his palms. Experienced hands massage them thoroughly, roll the soft skin between his fingers. His mouth is against yours again, tongues pressed together; Jungkook groans and the sound shoots straight between your thighs. He pinches a nipple between his fingers and you whimper, break away from his kiss to hide your face against his shoulder.

His cock is heavy against your folds, the thick material of his pants slowly stimulating you again. The cotton brushes against you, most certainly picks up your wetness as it goes, and Jungkook lets it as he continues to grind down against you with his hands on your tits. Your hands tear their way down his back, fist the material of his shirt in your hands. “Off, off,” you plead, desperate to feel more of him against you.

Jungkook complies, sitting up to yank his shirt over his head. You were right about his markings, dark swoops and circles that decorate his chest and abdomen before tapering down around his waist. Your mouth salivates at the sight, blindly reaching for your own clothes as if one look away will make him disappear. 

He doesn’t.

In fact, the removal of both your tops only makes Jungkook hungrier, completely abandoning your lips to suck your breast into his mouth instead. “Jungk— fuck,” you wail, slipping further down the couch as you lose yourself in Jungkook’s embrace. His teeth nibble at your swollen bud, roll the sensitive skin around before pulling off with a wet pop. 

Your breath jumps when he reaches behind you, corded arm locking around your waist as he repositions the two of you, unsatisfied with the previous position. He lifts you up with his undoubtedly superior strength, one palm beneath your thigh as he plops you down across the couch more comfortably, head neatly resting on a throw pillow. 

Your heart is in your throat, desperate to memorize the man before you, inked skin, lean and meaty, vibrant violet eyes that focus solely on you. Before he can join you on the couch, Jungkook steps away, tucks his thumbs into his waistband and swiftly removes them. His engorged cock, bigger than any you’ve seen in any erotic video— and that was saying a lot —springs up against his navel, flaming tip glaring right at you. Your pussy quivers at the sight. 

“Come here,” he husks out as he moves towards you. You welcome him with open arms, a soft groan of his name against his lips as he shoves his tongue past. His hands are everywhere now; one squeezes at your breast, hand molded to the flesh, while the other runs along the underside of your thigh, guides it over his waist. And another tickles around your navel, soft—

You shriek, eyes snapping open as you tug Jungkook over you as a shield. “What was that?” you heave, wide eyes roving over the dark living room, like maybe you’ll find Smilodon traversing the carpet and it was his silky tail that came too close. 

But Smilodon doesn’t usually appear at night, nor is there anything else in the living room with you and Jungkook. Your heart hammers in your chest, carefully meeting his dark gaze until something thin and distinctively alive appears over his shoulder. Another scream tears itself from your lips.

“Hey, hey,” Jungkook shushes, pulls away to cup your face in his hands. “Forgive me,” he says tenderly, “we are so similar, I forget you do not possess extra arms.”

You pale. “E-Extra arms?” you choke, eyes focused on the thin ‘arm’ that slinks out from behind Jungkook, almost screeching again when a second one appears on the opposite side. And then a third, a fourth. 

It is no arm, but rather… a tentacle? Sans the weird suction cups. They’re thin little things, no thicker than his wrist, that dance behind him as if they have a mind of their own. They move as if suspended in water, soft lilac skin tenderly touching yours. You shiver, its smooth skin odd against your supple flesh. Jungkook relaxes, but draws them back anyway. “Forgive me,” he says again, taking your hand in his to press a peck against it. Your heart flutters at the gesture that was slowly driving you insane. “I shall keep them at bay.”

You nod shakily, but cannot deny the curiosity that picks at you when they slink back into the base of his spine, blend seamlessly against his skin. “What… what do they do?” you ask tentatively. 

Jungkook hums as he descends upon you, featherlight kisses against your shoulder and up your neck. “Hmm? They help me out,” he explains mindlessly, pulling you flush against his cock again. A moan tears itself from your throat, eyes fluttering shut as you force yourself to focus on the moment again. 

But your hands unconsciously wander down his spine as he kisses you, circle the skin where your swear they had to have disappeared beneath, until Jungkook is pulling away with a confused expression on his face. “Would you like to see them again?” he asks quizzically, sweat forming along his hairline. 

You cannot play it off any longer; meekly, you nod. “I— they were interesting,” you admit in a quiet voice, nervously twiddling your fingers over your chest. 

Jungkook says nothing for a second, until he’s lightly chuckling and pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Okay,” he concedes, and goes back to rolling his hips against yours. 

About to protest, the words are robbed from your throat when something soft and blunt tickles your thigh. “Oh,” you shudder, prevailing through the initial shock as Jungkook’s ‘arm’ slides around the diameter of your thigh to brush against your cunt. It’s silky and smooth, pushes against your lips until it’s emerging past them, slipping inside of you.

You gasp, head lolling backwards as the sensation gets to you. It feels the same as your fingers do when you’re in the shower, but it moves differently, gauging your reactions as it curls within your walls. Jungkook muffles a low chuckle against your chin, kisses spread over you until his tongue is back down your throat.

“Feels good?” he asks, hot mouth against yours. You nod jerkily, hands digging into his biceps. Another appendage tickles around your waist, dips into your navel and makes you giggle. It’s a sound that’s frankly out of place amongst your moans and whimpers, but it makes Jungkook smile. It eventually moves away, continuing its soft caresses elsewhere. 

The one that plays in your pussy has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, jaw slack. Perfect for Jungkook who pushes and prods until his saliva is dripping down your throat, catching in the corners of your lips. It impossibly fattens inside of you, makes you choke just as a different one dances around your neck. “I— I,” you stutter, boneless beneath him as the soft tip traces around the column of your neck tenderly, lovingly. 

There’s so many different areas to focus on: one rubs comfortingly beneath your breast, while another fucks into your cunt. The contrast has your head spinning, unsure of where to look. 

There’s something about the one inside of you that makes you feel so sticky and wet, more so than before. Like it’s oozing something out, making the glide against your walls smoother than before. It makes your body tingle, sends a feeling down your spine that you’re almost certain isn’t normal. 

At the same time, there’s a brush along your thigh again, a tight coil around the flesh of your skin tightly that encourages your legs apart. More room for Jungkook to squeeze in. It wraps around you, slithers past its sibling and prods against your ass. Your heart skips a beat, buck into Jungkook’s embrace as it slips between your cheeks— you gasp. It releases that same substance that makes everything so wet. You tremble at the touch, body already so overwhelmed. 

Your attention is snatched away before anything can happen, Jungkook tugging you closer until the ridges of his cock are running along your folds, each push sending his goddamn tentacle deeper inside of you. You moan, hands shakily traversing his skin until you’re cupping his face in your palms. “More,” you hoarsely whisper, dazed eyes meeting his. “Please.”

Jungkook nods, presses one more kiss against your lips before shuffling around. The appendage inside of you swiftly recoils, has you shivering from the way it slips out of you so easily. As it finally emerges from your folds, you find it’s slick with cum and something slightly pink, sparkly and wet as if it’s got precum of its own. The sight amazes you, makes you want to touch it. Before you can, it’s moving again. Much to your surprise, it doesn’t go away, doesn’t return to hide within Jungkook’s body, but wraps around his cock tightly. Purple tendril against engorged skin, makes him sigh at the squeeze. 

He holds the base of his cock, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek as he regards you with an unrecognizable look. One hand on your thigh, fingers gripping tightly even before he’s done anything. “Tell me you want this,” he exhales, “please?” 

You nod hurriedly, hands reaching for his hips to urge him closer. “Want this,” you assure him, quiver when the head of his cock presses against your folds. Bigger than your fingers, bigger than that damned appendage, and it was going inside of you. “Want this so bad,” you whimper, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. A squeeze around your breasts, a flick against your nipples. It’s not Jungkook’s hands, and that fact makes you shiver. 

They curl around your breasts, frame the mounds gently before the flatted tips meet your nipples, tease them with featherlight nudge. 

Eased by the certainty of your words, Jungkook relaxes. He places a hand on your hip, the other still holding his cock as he lines himself up with your throbbing entrance. You’re so wet, dripping in your own cum and whatever that tentacle released, thighs slippery and shiny. The anticipation in your chest swells, pushes against your rib cage until you’re afraid it’ll break. The little markings beneath his eyes flash and suddenly it’s gone, replaced with a sense of comfort that only doubles when he flashes you a tiny smile.

The first press of his cock makes your back arch, has you knocking every throw pillow off the couch as he slowly eases his way in. “Oh god—“ you sob, the sudden intrusion being questioned by every muscle in your body. Immediately, two of his tentacles snap forward, release their soft grip on your neck and their wrap around your breasts to caress up your sides, smooth ends practically kissing your skin with their soft nudges. 

They by no means lessen the pain, but their butterfly touches are a nice distraction that tickles your skin, makes you whimper softly as Jungkook slowly sinks into you. 

Jungkook ducks over you, tip of his nose against yours. “Breathe for me,” he instructs, even though his breath is labored against yours. One appendage cups your cheek, curls softly around your ear to hold your head still— you feel so spoiled with all the attention. You make an effort, breathe in swiftly through your nose as Jungkook pushes in deeper.

Slowly, the discomfort fades away. It melts and in its wake you’re left with a dull numbing sensation that starts in your toes and magnifies as it reaches your ears. It grows until the weight of his cock inside of you has you drooling, eyes unfocused as you watch Jungkook push himself to the hilt, the ridges of the tentacle wrapped around his cock making you jolt with every push. 

At the same time as his cock thrusts inside of you, a sneaky little thing continues it’s dance between your cheeks, pokes and kisses at your hole like it’s testing you. It is, really, because you've never had anything up your ass before— up until a few moments ago, you had barely had anything in your pussy. 

This was your first time, yet two seperate holes were begging to be filled, clenching tightly at Jungkook kisses along your chest, hands wound beneath the small of your back. The playful tentacle near your behind does just that— plays until you gently reach back for it, trembling hands giving it the go ahead it needs to finally plunge itself within you. Like an excited little being, it flutters against your hand a soft, kiss-like press against your palm before returning to its favored spot. 

It chooses the perfect moment to press in, takes advantage of Jungkook’s first few slow thrusts to slip its way inside. A loud moan tears itself from your throat, and Jungkook joins along. “I-I’m sorry,” he pants, mouth against yours. “I-I just want to feel you.”

You shake him off, body twitching from the utter fullness you felt, the weight in between your folds and your ass that moves in opposing strokes. His cock, wrapped in those bulging ridges, pushes in just as the tentacle in your rear pulls out, and the sensation is enough to make you whimper and sob. 

It feels good, amazing even, and you almost can’t believe it’s happening. Jungkook’s lips slot against yours, slow and lazy as he lets your body grow familiar with the stretch. He kisses you until the cat-like grip you have on his shoulders weakens, replaced with wandering hands that trail down his spine. The base of his spine where his protrusions appear is unique, makes him buck against you when you wrap your hands around one appendage.

“S-Sensitive,” he says as an apology, never mind the fact you want him desperately to fuck into you like that again. You voice such thoughts and Jungkook groans against your skin. “Really?” He chokes out, “I can move?”

One nod and then he’s off, for real this time. 

He’s slow at first, like he’s hesitant about hurting you, but you tuck one leg around him, pull him closer until he’s forced deeper inside of you, and from there everything is a downward spiral. You forget Jungkook of Sixam is superior for more than just one reason, harsh reminder given in the strong snap of his hips that would have otherwise sent you flying off the couch if that same strength wasn’t channeled into the arms he held you with. 

You reach for his hair, desperate to feel that comforting silk between your fingers, but then there’s something wrapping around your wrists. It pins your hands down, twists around your wrists twice before snaking up and curling along your fingers. Like it wants to hold your hand, wants to fill the spaces for Jungkook. The thought makes you burn, insides a boiling mess as he fucks into you, hands held down above your head.

“Jungkook,” you sob, squirming in his hold. It’s like whenever you move, there’s something there, holding you down or fucking you senseless. He responds with a grunt, roughly thrusting into you over and over until all you can manage is a series of hiccups. 

The ridges around his cock, the added thickness lended to him by his extra appendage, has every shove past your lips sending tingles like an ascending xylophone shooting throughout your body. The rhythmic stretches make you huff like a dog against him, brain fuzzy and overwhelmed. 

At the same time as he delivers killer grind after grind, another arm, the one that had been left out of the fray, slithers around your chest, looping twice around your frame and caging your breasts between them. Like bondage, except it’s Jungkook’s own body holding you down. 

You don’t think about the absurdity of it too much, couldn’t anyway. Your brain is a scrambled mess of Jungkook’s lips and incandescent eyes, lost in the purple galaxies and stars he holds, slowly slipping away from reality with each brutal thrust he gives. His name tumbles from your lips, and yours from his. He holds you like you’ll slip away, sweaty skin pulling you impossibly closer with each roll of his hips.

The thick appendage buried within your ass makes you squirm. It’s a tight fit, one you don’t get too stuck on because for every reprieve from its maniac thrusts you are met with the equally ferocious slam of Jungkook’s cock. So it stays in the back of your mind, this curling tentacle that stretches the tight rim of your ass apart. 

You were stuffed to the brim, eyes rolling back as you struggled to keep up. A soft brush along your jawline makes you gasp, before your mouth is tentatively filled with something soft and pulsing. Oh, you would die, you think, mindlessly sucking around the tentacle squeezed between your lips. It fattens in your mouth, pushes roughly against your tongue in rhythm with Jungkook’s cock. You cough, gag even, but it doesn’t move away. It drips a thick substance down your throat, disgustingly sweet. 

“Please, please,” he pants, quiet and lost among your own higher-pitched moans. Your leg hikes itself further up, accidentally brushes at the base of where two of his tentacles protrude, and Jungkook jolts against you. His cock presses so deep into your walls, you swear you feel him kiss your cervix. “__,” he pants, tongue lapping at the skin of your neck, picking up the sweat and replacing it with his thick saliva. “Be mine, please.”

Your heart pounds with the beat of a marching band's pace, loud thundering that competes against the slapping of Jungkook’s skin against yours. You whimper around the weight in your mouth, the idea he places in your head only fueling that lifelong dream of yours. Your grip around the appendages that hold your wrists down tightens, its faint heartbeat-like pulse felt between your fingers. 

“Let me be yours,” Jungkook moans, pulls out once only to slam his cock past your folds, hold himself there as your brain scrambles to rewire itself. As he says this, your mouth is freed, saliva and that sticky wet substance sloppily splattering across your lips and chin at the rather harsh exit. “And you will be mine.”

“Yes, yes!” you choke, dribbling drool down your chin.

It ends too soon.

Jungkook reaches a hand down, thumb feeling for your clit, but he’s pressed so tightly against you, it takes a second before the rough pad makes contact. That simple swipe, one half circle, is enough to make you unravel. “J-Jungkook,” you wail, biting down against his shoulder, “I’m—“

Your orgasm swallows you whole, his tentacle in your ass joining alongside you. It bursts inside of you, makes your ass leak with cum when it finally pulls out. 

“I’ve got you,” he shudders, stills when your pussy clenches down around him, creamy pleasure dripping down around his cock. Your cries fill the air, body falling slack against the couch as you struggle to recover. Your head is a foggy mess, clouded by the slow snap of Jungkook’s hips as he reaches his arousal. Each push against your folds feels even more intense now, overstimulated walls fluttering wildly around him as his cock slips in. 

His body stiffens and he swiftly pulls out, every ridge of his cock sucked back by your pussy, and when he finally frees himself— from your clenching walls and his tightly-gripping tentacle—he spills over your abdomen. Sticky and pink, like the strawberry lube you keep in your drawer, except its come out of Jungkook as a result of your rump in the sheets. 

As quickly as his body locked up, it slumps just as fast, heavy muscles and long limbs crashing down over you before you can react. 

“Jungkook—“

The sun shines in through the front window, wakes him from his slumber slowly and then all at once. He accidentally shifts into a patch of sunshine, the blinding light irritating his eyes until Jungkook is forced awake. His body aches but has never felt better, a weird sense of relaxation flooding his senses. For a moment, he is confused.

Eyes scan over the room, purple irises carefully calculating every bit of information until he catches sight of Smilodon’s furry tail and the memories of last night come swarming back in. He sits up quickly, whirling around for any glimpse of you, only to find you’re nowhere in sigh—

“Morning.” A small hand atop of his head, fingers stroking against his scalp. Instantly, Jungkook melts into the touch. 

You walk past him and into the kitchen, where you get to work making the usual breakfast for you and Jungkook. He watches you from the couch, naked beneath the blanket you’ve so graciously covered him with. The sun leaks into the kitchen, paints you in soft shades of orange as you amble around the area. 

The scent of hot cocoa fills the air, calling him to the space behind you after he dresses. “Good morning,” he says shyly, presses a kiss against your shoulder. Hesitantly, he lets his hands slide around your waist, lock over your navel. You don’t push him away, simply pat the side of his head as Jungkook snuggles into you. 

You don’t speak about last night and neither does he. You eat eggs for breakfast and Jungkook playfully knocks his foot against yours beneath the table. “Don’t play footsies with me,” you laugh. Jungkook quite likes footsies. 

Morning chores are skipped, pushed off in favor of sitting in front of the couch. You sit beside him, flush against his side, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. The projection box tells him about the weather, says something about a stock market, but other than that, it is relatively quiet. 

There is no mission to complete, no tradition to uphold. It is just Jungkook in this new and not as scary world. The mailman always visits, and Smilodon shows his face every now and then. It is a routine he adores, but not as much as the Human at his side.

He doesn’t remember taking his headpiece off until it beeps from its spot on the coffee table, three distinctive chirps that signal an incoming call from the Higher Sixamian Court.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[goosedawn]

//Oh gods, welp, here I go [cracks knuckles]

//Tiny farmer Techno Au,,,, prepare for some future lore cjkhcxk

Timestamps from: "I Became the Mayor of Skyblock" by Technoblade

--

(5:39) "I decided to call in an old rival..." - Technoblade

Techno continues on with his life for days on, but finally, he somehow finds his way to society again, seeing that the entire town has been taken over by a tyrant of a mayor. The townspeople called for aid, and from the depths of his cold heart, he decided to help (....what do you mean he only did it so people would buy his potatoes-).

For a bit, he did his work by himself, only getting help from some other living scarecrows (listen, I really like the idea of some scarecrows coming alive [cough] PHIL [cough]), TimeDeo and Jyn (...? Is that how you spell their name?). (Dunno what the process for taking over the mayor would be exactly but,,, chchskdlcx,,,)

But you can only do so much work with... living scarecrows. With a bit of reluctance, he calls for help from SquidKid. And then together they defeat Dante :]

(Also, it's funny to think that the town has a mayor that they've never seen. All they know is that the previous mayor is gone, and the new one is pretty chill. /Lh)

--

(6:31) "Is there any way to do the teleport room without just like.. guessing?" - SquidKid

(6:36) "You are like... little baby, watch this." - Technoblade

-

Being tiny has its perks.

"Wait, what do you mean you can solve this maze in an hour or less?"

Techno turned towards the bigger hybrid, crossing his arms as he nonchalantly stared up at them. SquidKid only gives him a baffled look back, their tentacle-like hair slightly sprung up to further show their confusion.

He knows this only because he's known the man for far longer than they've known him.

He knows more personal information than should be shared, somehow finding the other farmer's parent's numbers along with a few other things. He had jokingly pocketed away the parent's number in the back of his mind, although, he had no real plans of ever using it. Well, maybe he had played with the idea of calling SquidKid's parents to dunk on the fact that a wild borrower had been winning their competition, but he ultimately decided not to for obvious reasons.

He knows the hybrid's schedule like the back of his hand, having to work around it for the better part of an entire year. Using that knowledge, he had sabotaged countless of SquidKid's tools, poking small, unnoticeable holes into their hoses and irrigation systems.

And he knows SquidKid's behavior from how they speak to how they express any sort of emotion. Lies were easily debunked from the small twitch of the corner of their mouth as they suppressed a smile, and anger was easily shown from how their strange hair pieces would spike up.

Yet, he can't help but feel slightly at unease in front of them. He supposes it's only natural, seeing that there's a huge height difference between them. Plus, this was practically the first time they've been closer than two fields of length in between them. Well, disregarding the times he's gone snooping around the bigger farmer's place, but that's neither here nor there.

"Squid, look at me," he raises his hand, gesturing towards himself, "I'm tiny, yes?" the squid hybrid nodded slowly, and he pointed at the stalks of tall fern and crop, "to you, this would basically be a wall you can't get through. For me, though...."

He jumped off his perch, tightly holding his trusty bag and sliding towards the flora before easily disappearing behind the thicket and appearing moments later at eye level, holding the stalk of the crops easily,

"It's easy to go through."

SquidKid makes a quiet 'oh' sound with another nod of their head, looking slightly in awe. The amazed look turns to one of confusion again, though, and he awaited their next question with a raised eyebrow, "but... the maze is big, how are you going to get through it all without tiring?"

Techno grinned, lifting a hand to his mouth and loudly whistling. He doesn't hesitate to slide back to the floor as a blur of white fur bounds towards him.

"Carl!" he exclaims, wrapping his hands around the rabbit's fluffy neck and combing through the fur with his fingers. He backs away to pull out a broken-off piece of a carrot, feeding it to the eager bunny before turning towards the astonished squid hybrid with a grin, "my noble steed," he waves a hand towards the still feeding rabbit.

"You tamed a rabbit," they dumbly point out, having to metaphorically pick up their jaw off of the floor.

"Yup, I did. you can stop gawking now," he huffed, "you're going to catch a bug with your mouth if you keep your mouth wide open."

"...And you named it Carl?"

"What kind of question is that?" he snorts, shaking his head, "yes, I named him Carl, and yes he's going to be the one helping me through the maze. Any other silly questions?"

The man stumbles over their words for a second, and he amusedly watches from below, "I- yeah, yeah, you bozo," they finally settle on saying.

"Alright, cool, I'm going to go find the exit now," he turns away from the hybrid, climbing on the back of the rabbit's back, "see you there."

He doesn't give SquidKid the chance to respond, already setting off through the thicket. And he sure doesn't suppress the grin that crawls up his face as Carl bounds past stalks and stalks of crops.

Having distracted SquidKid enough to get away, the bigger farmer had barely thought to ask how they themselves would traverse the maze.

They must have realized soon enough, though, since not seconds later, he hears a strangled yell of his name along with a loud groan.

--

Pain, it's been too long since I've written something /Lh

--

"(Also, it's funny to think that the town has a mayor that they've never seen. All they know is that the previous mayor is gone, and the new one is pretty chill. /Lh)"

When the townspeople come to greet the new mayor, they come thinking that it's SquidKid who's done everything since it's always been SquidKid going into town and doing the talking- the scarecrows being unable to do so for obvious reasons, and Techno unable to do so without revealing his entire existence.

So when the sheepish farmer calmly explains that he's just a helper of the mayor, they're... rightfully confused. At first, they want to know the real identity of the mayor, but SquidKid wearily tries explaining that said mayor really doesn't want to be revealed. They only conceded when he shakily points to the unknown farmer's territory, most of them getting the message.

Techno is very thankful that SquidKid doesn't take his title and also doesn't reveal his existence.

-

"It would have been so easy for the squid hybrid to just pluck his tiny form from their back pocket and shove the wrathful spotlight onto him.

He wasn't even able to even escape now as he found himself stuck in the hybrid's pocket. The crowd had come quickly after SquidKid had removed the other mayor for him, and he remembered feeling panicked as he stared at the other hybrid. The next thing he knew, he was shoved into their pocket.

He couldn't get out without tumbling to the ground with a splat, and, even worse, the possibility of one of the townspeople pointing him out with gossip-drinking eyes was incredibly high too.

He shakily gulped, greedily taking the air around him as he tried to stay calm. He never liked being near anyone- not even the scarecrows - so the second-hand contact with his past rival was not the finest experience.

"I- uhm," the squid hybrid stumbled over their words, "t-the mayor really would rather not... have the entire town to greet them.."

The crowd hushedly mumbled to each other, and one straggler called out, "well, tell them to come out anyway!"

By the Blood God, he hated this. He shrunk to the bottom of the pocket. This was one of the worst worries for a borrower; he had already been pushing his limit with the scarecrows and SquidKid, but this was another level for him.

"...Uh, well, in that case," he felt SquidKid shift, and a hand brushed over his pocket. He tenses, waiting for the fingers to tug him out and waiting for SquidKid to finally prove that they're not as kind as they look, for them to finally get some semblance of petty revenge.

"You can find them over there." He pauses, confused to as why there's no hand reaching down for him. The words finally dawn on him, and he's both relieved and perplexed to what SquidKid could have meant by that.

But hatever they've done has made the crowd fall unnaturally silent, and so he's at least a little relieved for that too.

The same voice that was brave enough to speak before pipes up, "you mean the ghost farmer?"

....He didn't know that the townspeople had come up with a name for him, but he's suddenly thankful that he's gained enough popularity that people stop and gawk.

"Y...Yes," SquidKid slowly acknowledges the villager, "they were the one orchestrating all of this. I was just helping with the... talking parts," the hybrid is silent for a moment before they burst into a stammering mess,

"And- uh, I-I should take my leave now, b-because I should really h-head back and ch-check up on them," he feels the bigger farmer start to take a few steps back, supposedly away from the crowd, "I'll answer any questions later!"

He has to push against the fabric to keep himself from bouncing around in the pocket as SquidKid starts running. He faintly hears the townspeople shout for the male, but it's muffled through the fabric.

As it starts to seem as if the squid hybrid would never stop running, they finally start to slow down, their breaths coming out labored and airy.

He doesn't speak up for a moment, letting the other regain themselves first. When they finally seem well enough, he speaks up,

"That's the best you can come up with?"

--

chKFCHKDSJFSDF oh my Primes, this is so LONG,,,, I have no idea how to write SquidKid,,,, plus, I had no idea how to like,,, oOGHgds,f,, pain.

Anyways, hope you had fun reading ALL of this cchjxcvxkdsf,,,

AAUBHJDUHFJHBFNDKUFHN WENDYYY /POS

i dont have anything to add this is just fantastic,,,,, DEO AND JIYN AS SCARECROWS AS WELL,,, FBJHDKUHSJHHDV,,,,,, i love that techno gets to have Carl still 🥺🥺🥺 and him leaving squidkid on the other side of the maze??? FHJBDJNJKBF

ALSO 🥺 squid protecting techno and not telling people abt him,,,,, aaajfhkdojfh good,, i also appreciate that everyone in the village just has to be like. "the ghost farmer is mayor????... well this isnt the weirdest thing thats happened to me"

SQUIDKID RUNNING AWAY,,,, "ill answer any questions later" djhshhjhjhbhbfhdjhbe

*holds this gently* aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i adore

[catharrington]

The horror on cherry lane prompt list day 3: Crow. (Wing!Steve and season 3 fix it fic)

Drop dead legs

For all intents and purposes, Billy assumed he would die from this. He stood up from the ground of Star Court mall, his chest heaving and his eyes stinging from the salt water he’s been crying, ready to die. Ready to end it. Just fucking end it, already. For Christ’s sake.

The girl at his feet shivered and trembled and looked at him with an understanding he’s been looking at himself with for too long. That he’s not worth anything the way he is. He ain’t worth anything just the man he is, but he could be worth something. If he died for it.

So Billy Hargrove stood up to get knocked down.

His body was shivering and trembling in fear, but he wasn’t afraid. Of course, he was afraid. He was terrified. But in context of what he’s been though this really was just a drop in the bucket.

At least he had his body back, he mused to himself, as he lifted his hands to catch the gelatinous tentacle arm of the Mind Flayer out of mid-air.

At least this he was doing by his own will, for himself. Even if the last thing he was going to ever do was get fucking killed— at least it was his god damn choice.

But then, as more monstrous arms he couldn’t catch pierced at Billy’s sides and lifted him off the ground in a pose that sure felt a lot like a damn sacrifice, a black feather floated across the sky. Down from the ceiling. From the lights that crossed all along the vaulted Mall roof. It seemed to catch every single colored light; purples and teals, as if it’s glossy surface was wet. As if it was a loose feather floating by in a hurricane.

Billy shouldn’t take his eyes off the mind flayer. Off the enemy, but the feather was really pretty. And it was really distracting. And he might as well go out looking at that rather than the mass of melted people in front of him.

The mind flayer before him gave a huge roar. Seeming to curse all the humans around him for making this so difficult. For protecting their homes and bodies like really pesky folk. Billy wanted to laugh. He could only cry a little more. Maybe it sounded like a laugh.

But even after that roar, the final blow didn’t come. He could feel his blood come out the same wounds on his sides and cut open hands. But his head didn’t get bitten off. His heart didn’t get ripped out.

Billy’s eyes focused on the blur in front of him. The feather lost to the dark ground. And Billy finally noticed that he wasn’t alone anymore. In this fight, in this pumpkin pie slice of hell they cut into the lobby of Star Court mall.

There was someone standing between him and the monster. Between him and death. Someone with two enormous wings flared out from his back. They were bristling and moving and seem to hold an infinity number of those gorgeous feathers, and they too seemed to shine with all the colors and black all at the same time. They were glossy as if they were wet. And Billy felt his last little bit of strength go out in his knees.

The man with the wings was holding onto a skinnier tentacle, a sharper one. The one made specifically for the killing blow. Now, it was tangled up in this guy’s hands. And with one sickening twist and crack… it was broken off.

The mess of human flesh and upside down rot fell to the floor with a wet thunk. Old blood that had turned black after death spilt from its ripped apart insides.

Billy didn’t linger on that, didn’t want the last thing he ever sees to be that.

He looked up then at the man with the wings, the Angel in black descended down from the rainy night sky to save him. As if God was watching and had any say in the matter. As if that bearded bastard in a dress would really save a sinner like Billy Hargrove.

But yet, the man wasn’t an Angel. He was dressed like a sailor. He wore a pair of shorts that had ridden up his long, skinny legs in his action, and a shirt that once had a white ascot tied around the neck but now was mostly black, and they were both bright blue and stripped like some sort of low wage teenage summer job uniform. Like he wasn’t an Angel at all, but an ice cream slinger in turquoise polyester.

The man turned around to face Billy finally and his hair was long and brown like chocolate and flopped over his face as if that were melted chocolate too. His eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open. He was pouting, like he always fucking seems to be whenever Billy’s around.

“Steve Harrington?” He laughed. In the face of death, in the face of his guardian Angel, he laughs.

Steve huffs back at him. Pleased at himself that Billy’s still alive. Pleased that he’s come down like an avenging demon to knock Billy down on his ass in a way that only seemed fitting.

His little puff of air send a strand of hair blowing off his sweaty forehead, it made Billy’s whole stomach seize up in a most annoying way. Like the best fuzzy part of being drunk. Or maybe he was loosing too much blood

“Damn, Harrington,” Billy groaned around the blood in his mouth.

Steve turned from the monster and cane towards Billy. His wings heavy as they drag behind him. “Yeah, okay. I’ve got wings. Don’t make a big deal about it, you hear me, Hargrove!”

Billy laughed at him. A sobering and sob like kinda laugh that left his whole body raw from it. He thinks it’s the first real laugh he’s got from moving to this god awful state of Indiana. And Jesus, he’s not even going to be dead to try and hide it.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” is the last thing Billy manages to croak out before he’s flopping backwards on the ground. The mind flayer’s tentacles cowering back in distress as they slowly fizzled out of life. But he feels two arms catch him by the shoulders and lower him down to what has to be the best feather pillow he’s ever slept on.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH46

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 46: Star Death Reality Show (XXIX)

All of the blood in Qi Leren’s body had solidified, and every cell was screaming silently, "No, don't, don't be it"! But this useless prayer could not help their current dangerous situation.

The sound from the vent became clearer and clearer, and it came out through the metal shutters. Qi Leren suddenly woke up from the stiffness that was like being thrown into a freezer, pointed to the door, and shouted, "Open the door! Fast!"

Dr. Lu was closest to the door, and rushed to open it. As a result, as soon as he raised his leg, his left foot stumbled over his right foot, and he fell hard on his face. Du Yue reacted quickly and rushed to the door to unlock it urgently. However, Leviathan had opened the metal shutter in the vent, and its tentacles wrapped in tinfoil stretched out from the black tunnel.

Qi Leren fired three shots at the tentacles. Two shots missed and one shot hit, but like last time, with an ordinary gun’s offensive power, it was impossible to break through the octopus’s shell.

The monster fell down from above like a pool of mud and expanded to a size larger than before. Its mass had exceeded that of a human, and after it fell, those branching tentacles spread across the ground like dead roots, motionless.

Qi Leren retreated slowly, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the door. Dr. Lu was struggling to get up from the ground while Du Yue was sweating as he struggled to unlock the door, because it had been Qi Leren who had locked the door just now, and Du Yue was unfamiliar with this type of lock.

No, I can't get out yet. I have to stall for time... But it would be difficult to stall by fighting. The best way is...

Qi Leren shouted: "Du Yue, use your skill!"

By the time the two rookies reacted, Qi Leren had been chased by the octopus and didn’t hesitate to jump into the vent!

"Stop, don’t move! There’s a kind of charge up!" Du Yue quickly launched this bug-like skill card [Protagonist Halo]!

[Protagonist Halo: When you use this skill card, you instantly become the center of attention, the protagonist of the story, and the fearless saviour! You, with the frightening aura of a king, can easily move people’s hearts, but you can always keep your last breath when you are beaten by a powerful enemy, because the enemy can’t help but explain his motives and modus operandi to you (although there may not be enough time). This skill lasts for one minute, with a cooldown time of three hours. During the start of the skill, persuasiveness increases by 20% and some people’s IQ decreases by 20%. You will not die if attacked. After all, you are the protagonist of this one minute.]

With He Yi’s brain, Leviathan was like any boss who had been faced with the lead character. It had forgotten who it was, where it was, and what it was going to do. It just stood there and listened to this guy who was 1.9 meters tall and 18 years old and could barely act as the teen protagonist. He shouted at it with a cracking voice, and sincerely advised it to abide by human laws and surrender itself quickly.

Ah, there was an invisible and intangible mysterious aura on this human being, which made everyone who saw him believe that this was the legendary protagonist! Although it was very angry, it still had to listen to the protagonist's words!

If it wasn't for its lack of vocal cords, it would probably explain its criminal motives and criminal record. Qi Leren took this opportunity to rush to the door, grabbing Dr. Lu with one hand and unlocking it nervously with the other.

This lock should be like this, wrong, so like this, wrong, how is it unlocked?

Under the Protagonist Halo, Qi Leren, whose IQ had plummeted by 20%, went crazy. It took half a minute to unlock the door and kick Dr. Lu out: "Run!"

Dr. Lu clutched his kicked ass and ran away in three steps.

The most delicious one had escaped the danger. Now there were less than 20 seconds left. Qi Leren shouldered the rocket launcher up off the ground and grabbed Du Yue to drag him out. Watching the "protagonist" run away, the monster finally woke up from the unexplained state of wonder, and the huge mouthparts hidden beneath its tentacles let out a sharp cry, rushing to catch up!

This speed was too fast! Qi Leren kicked Du Yue out with another foot, braced himself against the door, and aimed the rocket launcher at Leviathan, but it was too late. The monster had already jumped in front of him, and its tentacles suddenly stretched. He was dragged to the ground by his feet!

As soon as Qi Leren's hands loosened, the rocket launcher on his shoulder immediately smashed down and landed on his instep, causing a tingle of pain, and his left arm was swallowed by Leviathan's sharp-toothed maw!

"Qianbei!" Du Yue cried, looking back to pull Qi Leren out.

At this time, it was too late to save, and even if he loaded the file, he couldn't go back to the time before his left hand was injured. However, Qi Leren still saved. He felt the pain as if his arm was stuck in a meat grinder, everything below his elbow being ground by countless tiny teeth.

But this was also an opportunity. Qi Leren, who almost fainted in pain, used his quick wits, and a miniature bomb from his item bar appeared directly in his left hand—that is, in the belly of the octopus. Only six minutes were left before his privacy time ran out!

This explosion was even more devastating because it happened directly in Leviathan's body! This terrible explosion made the inside of its body turn inside out, and the brain hidden in it was more fragile than any internal organs. After the explosion, the human brain was useless.

Qi Leren's situation was not much better. The heat and impact of the explosion came out of Leviathan's mouthparts towards him, slamming him against the wall and breaking his neck. He died on the spot and was resurrected at the save point.

Du Yue, who witnessed the death of his senior, was still dumbfounded. Qi Leren had already judged the current situation—he couldn't continue to play! To say nothing of his left hand that was basically wasted, he would die in a few minutes if he didn’t stop the bleeding. Leviathan, though badly hurt, obviously did not lose its fighting power, and even became more violent!

At the moment when Qi Leren resurrected, it had already become like a giant spinning top, spinning wildly on the ground and rushing towards them!

Qi Leren, who suffered from the pain, relied entirely on willpower and kicked Du Yue out the door with one foot. After he slipped out of the door, he threw it closed. The sound of heavy objects hitting the door sounded behind him. Leviathan's bloated and heavy body hit the door directly, but it didn't open the door.

Because its brain had been destroyed in the explosion just now.

One destroyed hand, but he lowered the enemy’s IQ. This round was not a loss!

Damn, you shouldn't have forgotten to shoot He Yi's head before, otherwise, how could you play so badly?!

Because of the severe pain from the intense trauma just now, Qi Leren's right hand covered the elbow of his left arm. The part below the elbow has landed in Leviathan's stomach. The blood was spraying out like a broken faucet, reaching half a metre away. The ground was as horrible as a murder scene!

Du Yue looked at Qi Leren at a loss: "Qianbei, your hand is gone! What should we do! It's bleeding!"

Qi Leren glanced at his privacy time of only five minutes. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay awake. If he passed out now, with Du Yue's rookie first aid knowledge, he might really fall to the fate of bleeding to death. At this crucial moment, I have to rely on myself. Qi Leren took out the first-aid supplies that Chen Baiqi had once enthusiastically recommended from his item bar, and gritted his teeth: "Help me hold it."

Du Yue held his arm and listened to the thumping sound behind him. He helped Qi Leren to tie the rubber hose with trepidation. Qi Leren pulled hard and tied it around the middle position of his upper arm. The wound finally stopped bleeding crazily, but it still couldn't be stopped altogether.

Qi Leren remembered that Chen Baiqi had once said that if no measures were taken within three minutes, this kind of limb injury was basically equivalent to signing a death certificate. If there is no teammate who can treat it, take a soldering iron or flamethrower and burn it against the wound. Only when the blood vessels cauterize to necrosis would it stop the massive bleeding.

"Go, Dr. Lu certainly didn't go far, and time is running out," Qi Leren said, suffering from dizziness and severe pain, and hurried in the direction Dr. Lu had run away. Along the way, he was still thinking. He had had a fight with the big boss, and was injured and dying. He also ran away with the protagonist. It was like a life mentor of the leading role who was going to croak.

Bah, it's so unlucky!

Before running far, Qi Leren heard Dr. Lu’s voice: "You ran too far!"

Qi Leren and Du Yue stopped, looked intently, and Dr. Lu, who had opened the [Free WIFI] skill card, was squatted in the corner without any presence, shouting at them. Looking at Qi Leren's injury, he was shocked: "What's wrong with you, don't move, don't move, I'll give you quick first aid! Oh come on, this injury is too heavy!"

"There’s still four minutes left," Qi Leren reported the time, in too much pain to speak.

Dr. Lu immediately used "Doctor’s Orders". In the milky light, the continuously bleeding wound miraculously stopped. Although the amputated limb could not grow back, the wound healed quickly and new skin covered it. It was completely healed.

Dr. Lu was also shocked: "This effect is too good... Am I so powerful? Am I really a genius nurse?"

Du Yue said faintly on the side: "You’ve never had such a good effect in treating my injuries..."

"No, no, no, this must be because your IQ is not enough to affect the performance of 'Doctor’s Orders'. The skill card says that the more impressive the patient is, the better!" Dr. Lu said convincingly.

"But your treatment for others isn’t this good," Du Yue refused to accept it and refused to admit it was an IQ problem.

"Right, why is that?" Dr. Lu was also confused.

Just then, the pain that made him feel close to blacking out finally faded away. Qi Leren untied the rubber hose which left a bruise on his arm. He stared at the healed amputated limb on his elbow for more than ten seconds, and then he came back from the state of high tension just now.

Although he had died before, thanks to S/L Data, he has always completed the tasks with intact hands and feet every time, and this was the first time that he has lost a hand directly. He thought he would be disgracefully frightened, but because of these two rookies, he looked much calmer.

"Don't worry, there are people in the Twilight Township who can do limb regeneration. I know them. If you go back and pay a few survival days, you can grow it back." When Dr. Lu saw Qi Leren staring at the amputated hand, he thought he was sad, so he comforted him.

"Is it expensive?" As a poor player who has consumed a lot of survival days in the process of competing with Su He, this was what Qi Leren is most concerned about.

"It's okay, I remember it was just over a hundred days," Dr. Lu said.

Qi Leren, who had only seventeen days to live, didn't want to speak.

Du Yue was not rich either. He said gloomily, "That’s a lot, I only have thirty days..."

There was no harm without comparison, and Qi Leren suddenly felt that he was impoverished...

"It’s nothing, if you don’t have enough, I’ll pay for you. I usually charge for treating others. Healers are quite scarce, so I’ve earned a lot. Right now I have about two hundred survival days!" Dr. Lu said generously.

More than two hundred days… More than two hundred days… More than two hundred days…

Du Yue would be silent when hearing this number, and Qi Leren would cry when hearing it.

-----

Editor’s Notes: For anyone (me) who has forgotten the exact details, here’s the description for Doctor’s Orders:

[Doctor’s Orders] (Non-Binding Skill Card): The ability to work miracles comes with a price – a price for your patients. There will be no mercy given to those who do not deserve. Allows the holder to heal all who meet the following requirements: attractive, not a Virgo and an IQ over 100. The number of requirements met will determine the effectiveness of the treatment. Skill cooldown: 2 hours. (translated by Sigma)

-----

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[mlmreaderfics]

You Look Quite Divine Tonight (Cthulhu x Lighthouse Keeper!Male Reader)

The years have not been kind to you.

You are grizzled, old, scarred from your face to your heart, and tired. Your hair has gone white from age, along with your beard, and wrinkles break up the symmetry of your sandpaper skin. Your voice constantly aches and itches from yelling and overuse, though you appreciate the light Scottish accent you allegedly have. It makes you seem tougher than you actually are. There are callouses and blisters on your fingers, palms, feet from work. For work on the sea is anything but easy.

The sea has not been kind to you.

On occasion you find yourself with a strange, salty taste in your mouth. You used to know whether it was the ocean or your own tears. Your eyelashes freeze, yet you feel the most comfortable in the cold, or at least that’s what you’re telling yourself. You are very tired. Ever since hitting your ripe age of “too old to go to sea, but too young to retire properly” you took the toll of a lighthouse keeper. When you got here, it was supposed to be six weeks, with a young, scrappy helper that reminded you of yourself. Instead, he hung himself from the rope while he was supposed to be repainting the blistering white tower. Maybe he hated you. It wouldn’t surprise you, although it’s the first time anybody has taken their own life just to get away from you. You didn’t know him, yet you feel immense sorrow. Perhaps you were being too parental. You do tend to get attached.

The world has not been kind to you.

You never really knew your mother, she left before you were ten, and your father was colder than the ocean himself. Yes, you tend to refer to inanimate objects as “him,” but those rich men call their boats “her,” so who are they to judge? Though, perhaps it is because they see you as a predator, an animal itching to get its hands on any man it can find. But that’s not what you want. What you do want, you’re not sure, but it wouldn’t be just any man, and it wouldn’t be just for sex, throwing yourself around dark alleyways like a London whore. Though, you are just as tired as they are. It was supposed to be six weeks.

You have resided here, alone and without rescue, for a year. You think.

Thankfully, you have enough food to last you another six months. There’s been no ship to come rescue you from this rock, perhaps they no longer have a need for lighthouses. Maybe those children with their inventions figured out how to navigate the sea blindfolded, backwards, and in the dark. but they wouldn’t just leave you here, right?

You decide not to think about it. Thankfully, you have a very worthwhile distraction.

Whilst searching through the house, you notice one of the floorboards sounds off when you step on it. It takes you about five minutes to crouch down to the floor, but in the end, it’s worth it. You knock on the floor. Sounds like normal. You move your scarred fist to the left, three raps following. Also normal. Left once more.

There it is. The knock is echoed slightly, the wood hollow underneath.

It takes you ten minutes to get up off the floor, but thankfully you have a newfound adrenaline. You hobble over to the toolshed outside.

You make a point of not looking to your right, knowing you will find some of the grisly remains of your crew-mate, your excitement giving you tunnel vision to the crowbar. You rush back and bend over, your back loudly protesting as you attempt to pry back the floorboard. One push. Then two. Then three.

With a loud crack, the board splinters away, revealing a small hole with a book inside. It appears to be a journal.

————————————————————————————

Though you eat dinner that night, your health is the furthest thing on your mind as you theorize what the book could be. A book of spells? A tale as old as time itself? Maybe just pretty pictures? Whatever it is, the fact that new information is occupying your head is enough.

When you finally get a chance to sit down and begin to read, you notice an important sentence on the front page:

“This journal belongs to: Gustaf Johansen.”

Well, whoever this Gustaf character is, you are sure to be fascinated by him!

————————————————————————————

January 12, 1792.

Today marks my first day on the sea. While I do admit that I may come down with a minor sickness, I still have faith in my comrades to help me, as I shall help them.

———————————————————————————

You scan the pages, word by word. It details six months of a life at sea, similar to yours. Gustaf is (allegedly) described by his friends as “a man with strength and beauty to rival Thor himself.” Though you doubt that description, you can’t help but entertain the handsome image.

He’s holding your hand, rubbing his thumb on the back of it. Smiling, he nestles his head between your head and shoulder.

You shake your head. It’s ridiculous, no one is coming to save you.

_________________

April 20, 1792.

I have been having frequent dreams of a place I have yet never seen. I find myself under the ocean surface, far from dry land. And yet, in the murky waters, I see a glowing, beautiful city.

——————-

That night, you have the same dream.

You don’t think anything of it.

You continue to read.

_____________________

May 2, 1792.

The dream has come again, but now I hear a chorus of people. Or perhaps, not people, but simply voices. They speak in a language I do not recognize, yet still understand. They speak of the coming of a god, a Great Old One.

They call this being Cthulhu.

—————

Underneath the entry,  a sentence, phrase, or paragraph in an unknown language, presumably the one from the dreams, is written. It is a terrible mess of consonants and apostrophes. Though, it is still somewhat readable. Your pronunciation is messy, but you get through it.

Mggoka'ai ya, throdog gn'th

nog, uh'eog ot shugg

Y' nogephaii

nogephaii l' ya, gn'bthnknyth

nogephaii l' ya, orr'e

nogephaii l' ya, cthulhu

You finish the final syllable. Nothing happens.

In a burst of anger, you grab a flare from the supplies closet and walk out into the night.

Standing on the beach, you light the flare, waving it around. The sky is black, not a star in sight. “Please, help me!” you cry. “Please, anybody! I’m right here!” Tears burn your eyes and run down your cheeks. You muster all the strength in your lungs.

“I’M RIGHT HEREEE!!!”

With the final syllable, the ground shakes. Did somebody finally hear you? Are they coming to help you, after a lifetime of isolation?

It shakes again, your take a few steps to regain you balance.

Again. Your knees wobble.

Again. You fall, and a great deal of pain does not fill your body. In fact, you feel a great sense of rejuvenation in your bones.

Again. You manage to get up, seeing bubbles on the ocean surface.

Slowly, a mixture of flesh and scales emerges from the sea. Two sets of burning red eyes lie below. A strange beard of tentacles. A hugely muscled body with miles-wide wings. And when he speaks, you feel it in your chest.

“I do not recognize you, my beloved.”

You stare in fear, the flare still belching smoke.

“Lovely mortal, fear not. My beloved, Gustaf, had the most beautiful soul.”

The tentacles on his face gently wrap around you and lift you up. You find yourself between his eyes.

“You have that same soul deep within you.”

You begin to cry once more. The tentacles are surprisingly not as freezing as you thought they would. Instead, they fill your body with loving warmth.

“I-I apologize.” You say. “I have not been held like this since…”

You look back on your life, quickly.

“No one has ever held me like this,” you admit. Your voice is small, lost, broken.

“Then I am honored to be the first.”

His centuries-deep voice is filled with love. He speaks your name softly.

“Wouldst thou like to experience the pleasure of a god?”

“Yes,” you whisper desperately. You quickly unbutton your shirt, but the tentacles take care of your clothes for you. He laughs like rolling thunder.

He devours you, body and soul.

[d1nob0nes]

i’ve spent like 5 minutes doing homework and need a break so uh. c!foolish and c!jack manifold friendship idea that was brought up in twitter groupchat that i also want to share and develop on here. it’s long so uh. under the cut ig. might turn this into an entire fic at some point

starting with the deep sea afterlife idea from @the-king-of-lemons , jack comes back and he’s got all these “friends” that he made in the ocean, all these funny looking and colorful and beautiful fish and squid and creatures. he misses them. he wants to go back to that peacefulness, the momentary calm from the constant war and conflict, the gentle lull between the pain of dying and the pain of being revived. so he figures some shit out. does some math. 

one day foolish is out late. it’s getting dark, he doesn’t want to go through the nether to get back home, so he strolls down to the hotel to stay in the room jack has rented to him. jack greets him and walks him into the lobby, and foolish notices a new door off in a corner. it’s metal, almost like a vault door, with a keycode and spinning wheel. he points it out. “hey, jack, what is that?”

“oh, that’s a project i’ve been working on,” jack replies with a grin. “you wanna see it?”

“sure,” foolish says, shrugging, because it shouldn’t take long. but when jack leads him over to the door, unlocks it with his body hunched over the keypad, it swings open to reveal a long, dark, sloping hallway that descends into darkness. there’s a minecart off to the side, perched on rickety-looking rails, and jack gestures to it. “after you.”

the trip downward is terrifying. there’s no lighting, the rails are shoddily-made and crooked, and foolish swears that a few arrows are shot their way when they fly past cave entrances. the worst part is coming to a stop--jack sticks out his arm, a flash of silver in the darkness, and grabs onto the stone walls, making a horrible screeching noise that echoes through the passage as the minecart slows. they slam to a stop in a small room, lit by a singular torch, and jack’s already out and walking around before foolish realizes the minecart is still.

“here, put one of these on,” jack says, and a heavy bundle of metal and plastic hits foolish’s chest. “you’ll need it. otherwise, your head will explode.” he grins cheerfully at foolish and starts dressing himself.

the diving suits (at least that’s what foolish thinks they are--they’re held together by willpower and hope, as well as a bit of tape and some sort of glue) are heavy, clunky, and huge. jack stumps over to a little doorway, one that opens into a rickety elevator, and says, “you’ll have to turn sideways to get in,” before shuffling inside. the elevator car dips when foolish steps in, and he has to bite back a curse.

the second descent of the night is equally as terrifying as the first. the elevator car struggles downward, dropping several feet at points and halting at others. jack just stands casually, tapping his feet, humming some song. when the elevator finally stops, hundreds and hundreds of feet down, it’s with a grinding, screeching thud.

“we’re here!” jack declares, his voice muffled by the helmet. “hold on, lemme open the door--”

he yanks and pulls at the metal door, heaving until it jerks open. foolish steps out onto a rough, uneven stone floor, turns to his left, and stops.

there’s a massive, massive glass wall, stretching up into shadows. behind it is dark, barely lit water, strands of strange looking plants, and fish. tons of fish, of all shapes and sizes and colors, darting around each other and dancing behind the glass. some glow, some flash strange colors, and foolish swears he sees the tail of a shark whip by before disappearing into darkness.

“cool, innit?” jack declares. there’s a weak strain of pride in his voice, a subtle shake, but he stands straight and tall with his hands on his hips. “took me a while. i didn’t sleep much, but i got it done.”

“what--” foolish starts, but then jack is running up to the glass (running as best as he can in the massive pressure suits, at least) and pointing. “look, look,” he calls. “this is my buddy, this is long lad. i couldn’t think of a name for him, being the stringy fuck that he is, but look. he’s a bigfin squid.”

foolish can’t see much, other than several long, ghostly pale tentacles drifting through the water. jack is beaming inside his helmet, and he darts across the tank to point at another creature. “this, this is bella. she’s a giant isopod. i read up on these things, y’know, when i came back, to figure out what all my buddies were.” jack watches the pale, bug-like thing tumble off a rock and land gently on the muddy floor. “isn’t she pretty?”

“jack,” foolish finally spits out, “how--what--why did you make this? where the hell did you get all these animals?”

jack’s smile fades a bit. “well, i died, right?” he glances at foolish, almost shamefully, then turns back to the glass. “and wilbur, wil had his train station purgatory. tommy was in a void of some sort. me, well--i actually died. i didn’t have a ghost hanging around, or some sadistic fuck with a book ready to pull me back. i actually died then.

“everyone has a different afterlife, apparently,” jack continues. “my headset says some weird shit, and that’s something i’ve heard from it, and i believe it. my afterlife,” he says, turning to look foolish in the eyes, “was the deep sea. i was laying in the silt, in the dark, for a while.”

“oh,” foolish says. 

“i missed them, a lot,” jack adds on. his voice is rough, cracking, angry. “i had nobody to welcome me back to the living. nobody noticed, or cared, that i had died, and they were my companionship. they kept me company, and it was nice, and it was peaceful.” he gestures weakly to the glass wall, to the swarms of fish and shadows that shift through the water. “i wanted to replicate it, i guess. hence the big jack manifold aquarium.” he laughs, and it’s so full of hurt and pain that foolish grimaces.

there’s a moment of silence between them, as they stand in the weak blue light watching the sea creatures swim. something with a long neck, bioluminescent and flashing, moves slowly between the seagrass. a sperm whale covered in barnacles drifts out of the shadows, then retreats.

“i think it’s pretty awesome,” foolish finally says. “this is really cool.”

“you think?” jack laughs, and the tension and sadness lifts slightly. “hey, look at this one. i call him big bastard, because he tried to take a bite out of me a few times.”

there’s a massive shark swimming by, slow and steady, and foolish squints at it. jack’s going on about it, talking about how it dive bombed him in the afterlife, how it’s such a bastard motherfucker and jack hates it but in an endearing way, and then something sparks.

“jack,” foolish says, “that’s my great grandma. that shark.”

“what?”

---

yo if you made it this far thank you for reading :3 the deep sea creatures coexisting in a tank, as well as the descent and pressure stuff, are very scientifically inaccurate so apologies !! uh yeah lol haha whip nae nae i hope you liked it. anyway back to my homework and twitter i go bye

[uhhhhhhhhhsblogyea]

♤| dragon ball shapeshifter au

storyline rundown

part two

tw: profanity !! a bit of gore and such

the story begins on kakarot's farm! he lives with his parents, bardock and gine, and his brother raditz.

kakarot takes his produce to the market to sell, talking to krillin who is a police officer watching over in case of robbery or stolen goods, with his wife 18 and his daughter marron.

he hangs out there and sells all his produce, making a whopping amount of money to give back to his mother to go towards their farm. so thats what he does.

later that night, raditz barged in through the door, huffing loudly and covered in purple blood. it had a reddish tint. gine and bardock jump to their feet, bardock still in his training gi and gine in her white shirt and some sweatpants. "raditz!? what happened?" bardock exclaimed, gine following up with "why are you covered in... purple blood!?" this caused kakarot to come out of his room in a rush, "h-h-holy s-shit! i didnt kill anyone i swear mom, mom, dad please, i wouldn't do that!" raditz panicked. "s-something tried to attack me! i didnt know what to do so i attacked back!!" he tries to wipe the blood off, it being on his face.

whatever happened, scared raditz enough to make him shake in fear and what seems to be regret despite it being to protect himself.

kakarot however, still was unsure what happened. his father said he would explain in the morning, the situation was too dire for kakarot to get involved - especially with the police.

in town, vegeta covered his bloodied chest, panting as he hid deep in an alleyway. "goddammit," he huffs, slicking his hair back to keep the human bangs out of his face. hes got a huge gash across his chest, thanks to that damned raditz he happened to work with. luckily, he was morphed into some other alien lifeform and not his original shift state. he slowly morphed into a bird, a finch, and flew off to him apartment. he always kept his window cracked just in case this were to happen. just his luck, we wont be able to eat and to heal he needs that energy for food or else hell be out asleep for awhile.

he decides calling off work, so thats what he does. what he doesnt expect is a man with a thick ass fucking tail and slicked back purple hair and red eyes to be reading a book, lounging like a king on his bed. "f... frieza!?" vegeta says, startled.

"ah hello my creation! lovely seeing you here, dont you think?" he throws the book off to the side, getting up and striding over to the bloodied vegeta. "aw looks like you got a paper cut." he jabs a finger into vegetas cut across his chest. vegeta groans in pain, a tentacle whipping around to hit frieza away into a safer distance, but the icejin blocks smoothly with his muscled tail.

from here:

wow!! you found out vegeta is a "creation" of friezas, but what exactly does that mean?

raditz gets taken in for questioning. he gets blamed for a murder that happened on the otherside of town, the law system being dumb sentenced him to 25 years in prision for a murder he didnt do

kakarot is confused, bardock telling him there arent any alien threats and it was a misunderstanding on the jury and judge's parts bc raditz was getting mugged and a murder far away happened at roughly the same time, and they were desperate to throw someone into jail.

this is a lie, to some extent. kakarot believes it, living happily thinking there are no threats

vegeta attacked raditz, needing food. shapeshifters need to eat hearts and lungs of animals as food

raditz is the one who cut him across the chest (thatd why he has a scar on his chest in the ref sheet)

kakarot has to bring crops and milk into a market farther into town sometime in the next week, it being an event ran by capsule corp, a company that produces a lot of housing and vehicles and being in business for 40 years being the anniversary that day.

vegeta is a mechanical manager, wearing fancy clothing that day since its technically a high spot in the ranks for capsule corp.

vegeta likes milk, surprisingly. it helps a lot when recovering damage, especially his species. this is when he meets kakarot

kakarot is running his stand with the crates of crops and glass jars of milk set out on display with their price, krillin with him

vegeta is annoyed he has to speak up to get the seller's attention so he grunts with an "ahem"

kakarot jumps, apologizing and asking what he wants to buy. vegeta gets his milk and some vegetables for someone he knows

"hey, whats with the fancy suit?"

"you dont know who i am?"

"no. should i?"

"i-? im vegeta! im manager of the mechanics in capsule corp!"

"oh. is the job hard?"

they conversate, as kakarot sells his produce happily listening as he was able to get the short man with a temper to talk about his job.

vegeta himself was caught off guard by this action but happily talks

this ends in kakarot running behing the stand's curtain and grabbing his business card so vegeta can have a discount on milk next time he decides to buy

vegeta takes the card walking off

the card has kakarots name and number on the back, a message saying "text me personally if you want extra, i dont mind taking some. you seem cool!"

vegeta is a bit ticked, but pockets the card

over time, vegeta and kakarot talk over text a bit, kakarot delivering him milk like an old time milk delivery boy

turns out he actually used to be one as a kid

turns out hes been into marial arts as well, a long time interest of vegetas

they bond over this, kakarot find himself growing a crush on vegeta

one time kakarot stops buy with a delivery unannounced, not knowing he typed the text but didnt send it. he knocks on vegetas apartment door, but no answer.

he checks to see if its unlocked, and it is so he lets himself in, just wanting to put the delivery on the counter and head out.

he doesnt expect to turn around and see a vegeta with a towel wrapped around his waist, tentacles coming out of his back, green eyes, and sharp ears, teeth, and claws. "K-KAKAROT!? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" he yells, surprised. he doesn't have bangs either

"why do you have tentacles?? why do you look different? why do you have that scar?"

vegeta is caught off guard, not sure if he should push kakarot out or tell him the truth. one way or another he knows the truth will spread, so he carefully debates his options

he tells kakarot the truth, hes a shapeshifter and hes insanely dangerous

kakarot is surprised dangerous aliens exist

he tells vegeta this, and deep down vegeta is mad kakarot is sheltered

little do they know as they conversate and bond, growing closer to each other kakarot finds out vegeta made a vow not to ever get in a relationship no matter how much he envied them, especially a human relationship, a certain someone is watching them and listening in, theyre keeping tabs on vegetas and kakarots feelings

trust issues amirite?

later that night, kakarot says his goodbye heading home, heart pounding. wow!!!! vegeta is... great. very great. kinda cute too, i mean what!?? no!!

kakarot rants to himself aloud in his room, window open to keep himself cool, about vegeta as he debates his feelings. he doesnt care if this seems out of character in his friends terms, all they see from him anyway is a dense fightcrazed guy with a dysfunctional relationship with an ex and his son. he realized vegeta doesnt see him like that, but, what DOES vegeta see him as?

he calls it a night

he wakes up to a "thwap, thwap, thwap" against his wooden floor

he sits up, looking around and seeing a short figure sitting at his desk.

"whos there?"

"ah, youre awake monkey! i have valuable information for you, about your lovely vegeta." the voice is squeaky

"and, who is telling me this?" kakarots interest is piqued, not seeing the mysterious figure as a threat, as of now at least

"oh-hohoho! im dr. cold! but please, call me frieza. doctor cold is my father's name."

"and what do you have to tell me about vegeta?"

"mmm, are you sure you want to know?" he gets up, beginning to pace

"theres a catch isnt there" kakarot realizes, serious

"oh! maybe you arent so dense afterall. yes, there iss monkey. its simple, deliever some of your left over crop to my facility tomorrow, i already left the address on a paper over on that... pitiful little desk of yours." frieza pauses. "vegeta will kill you if you arent careful. hes hungry, and he wants that heart. but... i think the poor creation wants it in more than one way. kill him before he kills you."

frieza hands kakarot a box cutter

"thats the only thing that will kill him. if you dont do it i expect that delivery tomorrow by midnight. if you dont show, and theres no news of him being dead, youll be a brilliant collection to my creations, monkey!" the man laughs in joy, clasping his hands together as his red eyes pierce through kakarot

kakarot reluctantly agrees, unsure how this will play out

PART TWO WILL BE MADE SOON!!!

anyway heres the part 1 of the rundown.

[cant-blink]

Prisoner, Ch. 1

Summary: Gigan and Megalon meet a young Ghidorah. Gigan is intent on converting the child into their pirate crew, whether he likes it or not. 

-

What the hell happened here?

Glancing between the red planet ahead of them and the radar meant to detect life, both seemed desolate. But that can’t be right, he’s heard all about this world and the rare fauna it held, valued on the exotic pet black-market. Yet the sensors were picking up no life down below. Not even a plant.

Gigan rechecked the coordinates, just to ensure that they made it to the right world. Yep, it was and he wondered if there was some sort of malfunction.

He glanced back, seeing Megalon play-wrestling with Scoli. He said nothing to the beetle and centipede, as he directed the ship to orbit this world. Maybe they were in a bad spot? But as they moved, there continued to be no signs of life down below. Odd, very odd indeed. It was almost li-

Wait, there we go! The radar was finally picking up life signatures by the world’s single giant ocean. That’s a relief.

He lets out a soft breath, a smile growing on his beak as his hooked claw reached out and delicately pushed some of the buttons on the control panel. He glanced back again at his crewmates.

“Hey,” he started, getting their attention. “We’re going in for a landing.”

And that’s the only warning they were getting to brace themselves before he plunged the ship down into the atmosphere with speed. Flames erupt from the front of the ship and the floor began to tremble slightly before increasing in intensity. The emergency light flashed as warnings came to the control panel’s computer to slow the fuck down! But Gigan held firm, his beak cracking into a wide grin. 

The screaming coming from behind him only encouraged his behavior as they cut through the last layer of cloud.

Cutting it a bit short, he leveled out the ship close enough to the ground to whip up a huge plume of dirt and debris. Their momentum held firm, the landscape zooming beneath them at breakneck speed.

Looming up from the horizon was a mountain, that they were heading straight for!

“GIGAN, STOP IT!!” he heard shouting and he was pretty sure it was Megalon. He lets out a laugh before activating the anti-gravity devices to lift the ship up higher to avoid a mountain range. There was the ocean just beyond, purple in color. Here we go. He finally brought the ship to a halt and began hovering it down towards the ground. Easy now, easy... Putting down the gears, the ship landed delicately onto the rocky shore. 

Perfect, as always!

Turning towards his crew, he saw Scoli clinging to a wall and Megalon stuck on his back and he shook his head slightly. But he did nothing to help up his clumsy friend as he refocused on the control panel. 

“Get ready to go. I’m going to activate the cameras; I want full 360 view of the place.” He glanced out a window. “Don’t want to miss out on an opportunity, after all.”

-

He’s almost done with this world.

Its lifeforms were quite large and plentiful, and so many of them had young. Perfect conditions for harvesting lifeforce and fueling his growth. He’s already gathered enough victims into his bio-sac dome to make the journey to the next world and was now occupying his time until his meal was ready for consumption. Nothing more fun than a round of exploration, and senseless murder!

He had just found the ocean, and he was playing with it. Its water seemed to have solidified into a thick purple substance, like gelatin, and it seemed to be alive in and of itself. It would rise up in thick tendrils and nudged against his legs in an attempt to engulf him; it reminded him of his bio-sac’s tentacles snatching up anything that came too close. 

Luckily, it was very easy for him to pull free and it only encouraged his curiosity. He would bite into the jelly and his teeth would penetrate a transparent layer. There was the taste of salt-water in the fluid that poured into his maw. 

Blegh.

He wasn’t a fan of eating it, and he lets the pieces splatter onto the ground from his mouth. But biting chunks out of it was still very fun indeed. What was more fun, though, was him spotting a creature further out to sea. It wasn’t a species he’s met before, and how could he resist flying out to meet it?

This prey was the largest creature he’s met in his short life so far, about half his size. It stood upright, without front appendages beyond a few small tentacles at the front of its body. Its disproportionately large feet were gouging chunks out of the gelatin ocean as it walked on its surface. It had a crest structure jutting out the back of its head and a large glowing... eye on either side of it, glowing a bright amber. 

It seemed so blissfully unaware of his presence as he flew over it, as if it was confident its sheer size would protect it from harm. No doubt, it had no natural predators on this measly planet, but he was anything but natural.

He opened his jaws and shot flaming energy balls at it. The thick purple liquid rippled out as some of his fireballs struck the surface, explosions coming up around his prey. It lets out an echoing booming cry and the young Ghidorah does not let up. He shoots another trio of fireballs, one of them striking its tail and severing it to fall into the disturbed ocean. The tentacles thrashed around as its cries grow more high-pitched in distress.

Chuckling to himself, the young dragon swooped in from behind, his talons out to sink into the creature’s flesh. It began to struggle, but he was not to be dislodged as his three jaws surged forward to tear into its flesh. Rip it apart bit by bit.

After a moment spent torturing this creature, his wings began to flap. Luckily, this world had a thick atmosphere with light gravity, allowing him to take off with relative ease even with this added burden.

There was a bit of a suction effect trying to pull it off the ocean, as if the creature was gripping it, but with another tug, he ripped it free. Chunks of the purple gelatin fell from its feet and back onto the rest of the ocean.

He flew this creature back to the beach, and dropped it onto land without care. Its collision onto the beach was not a pleasant one from the sound of it and it seemed to struggle getting itself back up. He doesn’t allow it to recover as he landed beside it, his jaws clamping onto different parts of its mangled broken body before lifting it into the air.

Hearing the cries of fear and pain as he slammed his prey into the ground repeatedly was like music to his ears and always had him wanting to hear more. He hoped this was a plentiful species, as he was starting to run out of toys to play with.

It was a sure sign that soon, it’ll be time to move on. 

Dropping his still-living prey onto the ground one last time, he planted a foot onto it to keep it pinned and leaned down to start stripping flesh from its body to devour. He didn’t require flesh to survive, he needed only to sap their life energy. But it was still fun to taste, to rip apart, even better if they were still alive while he did so.

His right head caught sight of something flashing through the sky over the mountains. His left head focused on it as well as he fed, his large eyes taking in every detail.

Not a meteor, but a ship. It was landing somewhere much further up the beach.

Oh, good! More toys to play with! It’s not often that prey just hand themselves on a silver platter like this.

Licking his bloodied lips, he shifted his foot to where its giant amber eyes were, assuming this must be the head. The creature wasn’t even struggling anymore, even as he placed all his weight onto that foot, crushing it beneath his weight. Feeling the bones break apart and the blood spreading over his sole, he pulled his foot away to admire his work for a moment before turning away. He started running towards the ship, his wings fanning open wider to catch the wind until he built up enough speed to kick off the ground and fly into the air.

Let’s have some fun.

-

“Ghidorah?”

Megalon tilted his head, looking back at the screen Gigan was watching, spotting a small kaiju flying in. The cyborg had the image zoomed in and enhanced, and he can see a three headed creature making a bee-line straight for them. The beetle has never met this infamous ‘Ghidorah’ before, so he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. This, however, wasn’t it.

“That’s Ghidorah?” he couldn’t help but ask. This was the creature that killed off Gigan’s Masters? The one the cyborg was lusting over? The one the beetle declared as his rival? THIS was the cosmic terror?!

Well, beating this thing to a pulp was going to be easier than he thought and he was about to hurry outside to do just that when Gigan speaks up.

“He’s not my Ghidorah,” he told him with audible confusion and disbelief. “This is a whole new one. I never heard of another Ghidorah being created.” The cyborg chuckled slightly as he watched the screen. This hydra was a lot smaller than the one he knew, a youngster most likely. Was his Ghidorah breeding somewhere out there and this was one of his offspring? Isn’t that very interesting...

“What do we do with it?” Scoli asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Gigan chortled. “We invite him to join us. A Ghidorah, even a young one like this, will be more valuable than anything else we can poach from this planet.”

“If he’s so valuable, shouldn’t we sell him?” Megalon asked with an edge to his voice. He didn’t want to have this... thing with them, so he’s willing to say anything to get rid of this little dragon. Gigan’s Ghidorah or not, Megalon didn’t want the potential competition for the cyborg’s attention.

Gigan was more than aware of what the beetle was trying to do and he couldn’t hold back a smirk at Megalon’s jealousy. “No amount of money would be good enough.” He heard the ‘hmph’ from the insect and turned back to look at the little hydra. “Like it or not, Megalon, we’re keeping him.” He looked towards Scoli. “Clear out one of the containment units, one of the heavy duty ones, just in case. We’ll meet you outside.”

Scoli nodded softly before turning and scurrying away towards the lower decks. Gigan spent another moment to watch the little dragon come in for a landing nearby before opening the doors and moving towards the exit.

Megalon rushed to keep up. “But what if it’s not a Ghidorah and it’s just some random thing that LOOKS like a Ghidorah?” What did he have to say to discourage this cyborg’s interest in this youngster?

“You’re being silly now, babe,” Gigan said with humor before continuing. “I know what a Ghidorah looks like. There’s no mistaking them for anything else.”

“But... but... He’s so tiny! Are we really going to play baby-sitter until he’s all grown-up?”

“I play baby-sitter with you all the time, soooooo...” Gigan drawled before he looked over his shoulder at him, knowing exactly how to shut this beetle up. “You’re not trusting me, Megalon. Acting all jealous over a kid of all things.” He maintained hard eye-contact with the insect. “Keep yourself in check, or I’ll start reconsidering our friendship.”

Megalon froze for a moment. Did Gigan just call him- “I’m not jealous!” the beetle stated defensively, fumbling over his thoughts a bit as he tries to come up with a valid excuse for his behavior. “I just don’t think this is a good-”

Suddenly, the sound of an explosion came and the ship’s foundation shook. Gigan knew immediately what was happening; the damn kid was attacking their ship! Without another word towards Megalon, he rushed outside and turned in the direction the young Ghidorah should be. There he was, shooting... fire at the hull.

He never knew his own Ghidorah to spit fire. In the time they spent together in Nebulan captivity, he’s only ever seen him shoot lightning. Very interesting...

The little one very quickly caught sight of his movement and all three of those heads turned towards him.

Silence...

-

Well, this wasn’t what he was expecting.

He was expecting small lesser creatures to be in this ship; that’s always been the case in his experience. But what came out was no small creature, oh no. This one was damn near twice his size!

He’s never seen anything so huge in his short life; in fact, he’s never met a fellow kaiju before. He was still young enough that different races still held novelty to him, and his eyes took in every detail. The creature had green flesh and gold... scales? And three wings, and one eye. And 2 extra appendages that ended in silver hooks. A weapon, that’s what this thing is.

But he was not one to be easily intimidated; even as young as he is, a Ghidorah was still not a creature to mess with. Besides, can you imagine how much life-force he can syphon out of this thing? Sure, it’s not as potent as the souls of children, but the sheer amount would more than make up for it. It would be enough to fuel TWO trips to the next world!! This thing looks very pointy and sharp though, so best to be carefu-

“Hey, kid,” the creature spoke in an odd mixture of a natural and mechanical voice. Really, the fact it talks at all was most surprising. The young Ghidorah never had anyone actually talk to him in a way he understands. Supposed it was an inevitability, but what now?

Flee, or try to kill it for that bounty of lifeforce? Never before has he ever had to make that kind of decision. He usually just defaulted to the latter.

“Ghidorah, right?”

Wait, how did it know his name...?

...

Heh, seems his reputation has preceded him. But then, what did this thing want? It knew who he was and yet doesn’t run in fear? His suspicions were starting to overcome his pride. For the first time, he engaged in this conversation. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Gigan,” the creature said in a strangely casual tone that did nothing to ease the young dragon.

“How do you know who I am?”

“Heh, I know another Ghidorah,” he told him. “Great friends, him and I. Used to work together in another solar system. A pleasant surprise to see another one here. You’ve been having fun, I see.”

The young dragon narrowed a pair of eyes. Another Ghidorah? He had no idea there were other Ghidorah out there. The idea any of them would be friends with this thing was dubious though. 

“Why did you come here?” He had no intentions on stopping his questioning, especially not while he was still on edge about this whole situation. 

"Glad you asked. Y'see, I travel around, stripping worlds of their resources, and life," At once the young Ghidorah's eyes lit up a bit with interest, and this 'Gigan' seemed to notice as he chuckled. "Yeah, sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Exactly why I worked so well with the other Ghidorah, when our goals align perfectly, huh?" He took a step closer and the dragon's body tensed up, still apprehensive. Thankfully, Gigan comes no closer. "I came to this world looking for a good time. And here we are. Fate works in strange ways, bringing us together, huh?"

The youngster can already tell where this was going before this funny-looking creature said it.

“How can I not give you the opportunity to join me? Whaddya say, kid? Interested?” 

The hydra doesn’t answer or move for a long moment. So many red flags were shooting up in his heads, and he was unsure if it was just his natural instinct to distrust other lifeforms. He just... didn’t like this thing. He didn’t like how it spoke to him or the words it was saying. It just... seemed manipulative.

He should get out of here. Whatever this thing has planned, it wasn’t good and he takes a step back. 

His instincts seemed to prove correct as the creature’s beak twisted into a smirk at seeing him step back. His tone too seemed to change, still friendly but with an edge laced into it. 

“You sure you want to do that? It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

The little Ghidorah said nothing, glaring at this creature before shaking his heads. Yeah, it was time to leave. He should fly back to his bio-sac and devour what he can before vacating this planet. Now. The urgency in his instincts only got worse when he spotted movement by the door to find another giant kaiju, roughly the same size as the one in front of him. It wasn’t as sharp-looking, but it did have pointy front limbs. It had no wings that he can see and it had a strange... horn between giant golden eyes that looked to be made of a bunch of little eyes.

“Such a shame,” the pointy one continued, the red jewel on that forehead starting to glow. “I was hoping you’d be smarter than the last Ghidorah.”

The youngster couldn’t ignore the red-flags anymore and he attempted to make a run for it. But no sooner had he turned his heads than he felt a jolt as a red beam erupted from the creature, hitting the scales in his chest.

Thankfully, his underside had heavy plated armor that held up well, but it was still enough force to stumble him back. He screeched in anger before regaining his balance, facing the two giant kaiju.

Seemed he had no choice but to stand and fight, in what would be the most dangerous battle he’s ever faced in his young life.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Okay this may be pure filth of a request. But I have an idea. Slenderman x female reader, where his kind have heats/ruts, they have been happily together for a while and she has been wanting to help him with his rut/heat, but she doesn't know that his tentacles become very active during heat/rut sex (possibly because they excrete an aphrodisiac???). Honestly I'm asking for pure tentacle porn, but with feelings lol.

I hope this what you wanted!! Hope it is sufficient! I’m sorry, I’m not versed in the ways of tentacle porn, but I assumed they’re utilised like that of a dick, fingers, or Venoms tongue, haha. I’m not sure if I included the aphrodisiac part, but there is certainly plenty of tentacle activity and certain haze of sex involved. 

Warnings: Well, its tentacle and rut smut. So yeah. No violence though- it is completely consensual and affectionate. 

Breathy moans can be heard clearly - you would say too clearly, if you were in any state that’s aware enough to care, which you aren’t right now through the erotic haze of being fucked literally brainless,- through the cracks of the bedroom door. The room is too hot, your cheeks and chest, and probably everywhere else because all of your skin feels burning hot as you hope and ride for a blessed release, are pink from the warmth. 3 tentacles, twisted around each other, are between your legs and the ends disappear inside your leaking pussy, making the soft black, tubular appendages slick with your juice from the multiple - how many? You have no clue. You didn’t even know how good his would feel before you walked in here and agreed, so you’re overwhelmed with pleasure, -orgasms already.

Still, your legs clamp around the snakelike lengths, feeling them fill you up completely already and just lazily, but heavily roll and move up and down in your used pinkness slowly, in gradual waives like the ocean. The monsters rub your insides beautifully, and you roll your hips upwards, selfishly, greedily chasing your release. A sigh escapes you as you remember the actual, true meaning for you to be here and you look to Slender, astride your legs just watching you as his tentacles do their work with you. “Slender… come- come on, let me- “

‘Let me do anything.’

You just want to help in his heat. You remember the painful way his, legitimately huge cock was straining against his suit pants earlier when you originally came in and he was still trying to resist, and refrain, and although you can’t see it now you know it must still be growing strong despite the orgasm’s he’s enjoyed.

You want to do something for him, you vaguely want to pull his tentacles until they relax and slither out of you but the pleasure is also too overbearing and you know that ultimately, you won’t do it. You’re only human, and pleasured and selfish. He has to do it- he has to rip his girths out of you, leaving you empty, and push your head down to his cock. Then you would be gaping open, of course, but you’ll be happy to wrap your lips around his cock and suck like the secret whore you’ll regret letting free tomorrow, but he has to do it. It’s up to him. But you know he won’t.

You’re in a predicament.

“Sweetheart, you’re… doing just… fine… “He reassures you, lips long ripped from each other already, multiple rounds ago. He’s slowly rolling his crotch against the mattress at a steady rhythm, watching you like in a trance. A heated, rut-crazed trance where even the littlest amount of stimulation, like the rush of watching you in such a completely lude position like you are, and the gentle rub of the mattress against his balls and the underside of his dick has him ready to blow. Just the simplest of additions would have him adding to the mess you’re both in. It wouldn’t stop him from continuing to use you, like you want him to, asked him to, but it would be glorious.

“Don’t you want… ahhh, don’t you want me to… oh… jesus… do something?” God, the 3 noodle-like masses move forward, deeper inside you, rubbing along all your most pleasurable spots and more. You feel connected to him, completely and entirely.

“No… love, you’re being perfect. I love you so much.” Vaguely through your brainless state, you think ‘Puh. It took a heightened sexual state for him to say that so sincerely to me. Figures,’.

“I love you too.”

Another tentacle appears, fans out smoothly from behind him, and he slowly tilts his head slightly to the side as that one moves forward… and starts lightly brushing your pussy lips. So soft its like lips, and butterfly wings, and it sends you over the edge shockingly quickly. “-OH MY GOD- “

Your back arches up so Slender can see your clit from a better, more open angle which he watches intently, letting out a noise of his own, as you both cum once again.

Finally, after who knows how long, the tentacles slowly slither out from you, warm and squeezed from your tightness clenching around them so many times, and dripping at the ends, and go to your mouth instead. You let it happen, running your tongue languidly over the smooth surfaces as Slender readjusts you both so your thighs - which are covered in bite marks and bruises,- sit on either side of his hips, setting you in his lap and gathering your just as exhausted top half to his chest. His, again, painfully hard cock buries itself swiftly in you and you start to go all over again.

With Slender’s long, thin fingers running gently, soothingly up and down your bare back.