#stole that from my other human AU that I might write about

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fic Recs | Vol 42

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy Folks,

guess who's back! I don't know if I'm back to doing these consistently, but I have a hell of a list for y'all. Tags and summaries provided by the author, commentary provided by yours truly.

Mindfuck - Dave one shot by @whatsnewalycat

He said he could rattle the bees from your buzzing honeycomb brain. All you had to do was trust him with this power. So you did. And you do. Your valiant beekeeper meets you at this hotel every other Tuesday night, except on holidays.

Hypnotism, hypnosis-kink, Imperfect Praxis of Hypnosis, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Praise Kink, Smut, unprotected piv, D/s dynamic, Dom Dave, Mindfuck

One of the weirdest things I've ever read, but also one of the best. I was super into this. Mindfucking is WILD.... I'd read more of this universe in a heartbeat

Bittersweet Love - Dieter one shot by @ozarkthedog

Dieter is in recovery from drug addiction, the disease that cost him you. This is his first premiere after getting clean and his first one without you.

angst but with a happy ending! mentions of drug use and alcohol but nothing graphic.

This is such a sweet fic? That might be a weird way to describe it. I just love Dieter getting his shit together and all the good coming his way because of it.

Starlet - Dieter one shot by @whocaresstillthelouvre

Your husband has a big movie premiere, sure he looks great, but his co-star looks even better.

PWP, threesome, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), lesbian fun, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, addiction talk, sober Dieter, Kit Kats, I wrote this for the bi girls.

This fic is a dream, seriously. I want a hot movie star husband to bring pretty movie star women into my bed please and thank you.

Pas de Deux - Din series by @burntheedges

When Din Djarin – principal dancer at Concordia Ballet Company and generational talent in the classical style – suddenly left CBC and joined the Nevarro Ballet Theater mid-season, it shocked the ballet world. You never would have guessed that he would change your life, too.

modern AU, ballet AU, fluff, angst, flirting, dancing, lots of ballet terms (I’ll define things/link videos/etc. -- see below), misunderstandings, character study, romance, pet names (sweetheart, beautiful), lots of tension, later: smut, kissing, grinding, fingering, p-in-v sex, creampie, each chapter will have its own tags, Din lifts reader (see note below about reader)

This is one of the few modern Din AUs I've read, as I tend not to like them, but I can't recommend this enough. I was drawn in by the summary and hooked by the first chapter!

Never Let Me Go - Ezra one shot by @yopossum

Loving, reverent domestic smut with sweet, submissive Ezra.

SMUT; no plot that’s it just porn but with FEELINGS; sub!Ezra; established relationship; super duper in love; domestic fluff; comfort; gratuitous pet names; praise kink; body worship; body hair; grinding; breast and nipple play; teasing/edging if you squint; light bondage; riding; PIV; no condom (there’s come y’all); religious language and imagery as literary device; Ezra the human thesaurus; prose gettin purple; making grown men whine and cry; reader is not gendered, has breasts and a vulva/vagina, is described as having puffed nipples and dimpled thighs, can straddle Ezra, but no coloring, size, appearance, age, or ability is otherwise noted; Ezra is an amputee and healed and we love it (no gore or trauma or background re: his arm); but I did write this because I was watching Prospect without actually watching and was inspired by *~*those sounds*~* out of context tho; Beatrice is not reader’s name, just a nerdy Dante reference; I stole this title from Florence Welch; old person on tumblr; is this spacing wack?; not a beta in sight; 18+ only no minors

SUBMISSIVE EZRA!!! I loved this. Such a gorgeous fic.

Stick Buddies - Frankie series by @auteurdelabre

You and Frankie find yourselves in a complicated situation when invited to Benny's wedding for a week in Mexico. Despite your strained friendship, you both pretend to be a couple to save Frankie embarrassment when seeing his recently engaged ex wife. However as you navigate through this charade, old feelings and unresolved issues resurface.

friends to enemies, angst, fake relationship, bickering, there's only one bed, destination weddings, enemies to lovers, jealousy, idiots in love, revealed secrets, mutual pining, smut, HEA, so many fucking tropes.

friends to enemies to lovers??? Sign me the fuck up.

Where You Left Me - Frankie one shot by @chaotic-mystery

You meet Frankie for a date and reminisce about your relationship.

MAJOR character death. No movie AU but fuck Tom. This is overall angst heavy and please take care of yourself. Grief & loss, sadness, memories, I think that’s it? It’s just overall a bittersweet and tragically lovesick story. There’s no physical descriptions of reader other than wearing a black dress at one point and having hair that tickles Frankie’s nose. no y/n used

This shit made me cry in the best way. Please read this.

One of Your Girls - Frankie one shot by @pedropeach

unpacking some of frankie's old things leads to a revelation about his past. (OR to put it simply: frankie morales x triple frontier boys circle jerk)

Circle Jerk, Sub!Frankie, Bukkake, Facials, Cumplay, Cum Swallowing, frankie is literally a cum dumpster (and loves it), Praise Kink, Pet Names, Dirty Talk, oral (m receiving), Deepthroating, Cock Worship, Use of restraints, Sexy Photographs, Sharing, brief mentions of anal sex (m/m), for story purposes you are frankie's current gf, frankie x all the guys individually, this includes tom but he's not part of the circle jerk, sry tom

Really was not expecting this to be as tender and soft and sweet as it is considering it's one of the more filthy things I've ever read. Absolutely love it.

I'll Carry You - Javi P series by @almostfoxglove

You reunite with your childhood best friend when he arrives home from Colombia. Javier's sudden return to your life exhumes buried heartbreak, but he longs to set things right.

Eventual smut. Reference to canon-typical violence, injury, and the death of a parent. Plenty of alcohol consumption, yearning, and angst. YEARNING!!!

The yearning is exquisite. The fic is exquisite. I'm in love with this fic

Remorse for Remedy - Joel series by @pedgito

Alone, the Miller's brothers seem like your only hope. The outbreak is still fresh, weeks after the fall and all that matters is survival and the unlikely comfort that comes along with a man who wants nothing to do with you.

early outbreak, canon typical violence, morally grey!joel, smut (warnings given with each chapters), exploration of kinks, enemies to lovers, age gap (early 20s/mid 30s), unhealthy coping mechanisms, detailed warning with each chapter

I haven't ever read a series about Joel immediately post outbreak, which is wild. It's always raider!joel or qz!joel or jackson!joel. I love this new perspective and I'm so excited to read more.

Biology - Joel one shot by @endlessthxxghts

Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship.

Well slap me silly and call me an uncle fucker because this fic was amazing. (they're not really related don't. look. at. ME.)

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Joel series by @justagalwhowrites

After the death of his daughter, Joel Miller fell apart. But when searching for answers at the bottom of a bottle and within his own rage doesn't fix it, he resigns himself to working for his brother in private security. It's a job that starts him down the path to stability and a semblance of a life, even if it's not one he particularly wants. At least it does until you show up. The biggest movie star in the world with your newly adopted niece in tow, you throw everything about Joel's life into flux. Is he capable of letting himself feel something again while protecting the only things left in the world that matter?

Protective Joel, Ellie & Joel Bonding, Joel is Bad at Feelings, POV Joel, Joel Needs a Hug, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn

So pumped for a new Kit fic. Super into bodyguard Joel. The angst right out the gate is so beautifully painful, I just know I'm gonna cry once a chapter at least. (i've only read one chapter, so I have some catching up to do!)

Professor's Pet - Joel one shot by @chaotic-mystery

Professor Miller wants you to teach the class tomorrow morning & you need help being less nervous. What if he’s the reason you’re nervous, though?

Age gap but not specified, power imbalance (professor x TA, reader stutters when nervous, academic weapon, teasing, fingering, one (1) pair of panties ripped to shreds, oral (f receiving), spitting, pussy slaps, praise kink, name calling (good girl, sweetheart, baby, smart girl), dirty talk, talking you through it, spanking, condescending a little bit, cum eating, face riding, nasty freaky kisses to share your cum, no use of y/n

I cannot begin to explain how hot him helping her practice is. And then the smut.... I need a shower

Call It What It Is - Joel one shot by @joelsgreys

A disagreement over patrol duty leads to declarations that have been long overdue.

JACKSON ERA JOEL. established relationship. HEFTY AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and joel is 56). ellie and joel are fine bc i said so and they deserve nothing less. reader handles a rifle, joel’s a little too overprotective and almost seems controlling, but i promise he is not. well, maybe just a smidge. arguing, admission of feelings, joel miller says i love you (yes this is ooc, no i do not care bc i need this old man to tell me he loves me). angst, fluff. quite a bit of side character interaction before we get to joel and reader in the second half. the only physical description of reader is that she is shorter than joel.

We love overprotective Joel in this house

The Guard Dog - Pero Tovar one shot by @avastrasposts

Sent to your uncle's bleak castle in the north of England, you expect only a dreary existence until you meet his groundskeeper, a scarred, frightening Spaniard. But love in the Victorian era is not easy and life doesn't follow straight paths.

this is mainly all fluff with a bit of angst. Some of that casual racism and predjudice of the period rears its ugly head though. I've tried to keep the reader as blank as possible, but it's Victorian England and she's a lady so I have to presume she doesn't speak Spanish and has fair skin. No use of y/n.

This was so beautiful. I love the setting, I love the characterization, I love the story

Bloody Kisses - Tim Rockford/Dio series by @perotovar

shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

takes place in the early 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, hurtful names (fairy boy, faggot, queer as a slur, etc), a gay porn magazine, lots of references to peter steele of type o negative (and his playgirl issue), male masturbation, acab, angst, protected p in a, fingering, excessive amounts of lube

I started reading this a while ago, but I never added it to the spreadsheet. I'm in love with how soft Tim is with Dio UgH

In the shadows of others, we grow - Tim Rockford/Dave York series by @sin-djarin

What happens when you put two different areas of law enforcement in the same room a few times a year to atone for their 'sins'? You find common ground and figure it out. Together.

M/M, Established D/s dynamics, each chapter contains individual warnings.

This pairing?? Obsessed. The feelings?!?!? Give me 14 more fics in this universe PLEASE

An End to Drought - Javi P one shot by @almostfoxglove

The future of your family's homestead hangs in the balance as Javier Peña comes home in the middle of a drought.

Javier Peña Smut, Soft Javier Peña, Sweet Javier Peña, Javier Peña Has a Big Dick, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Fluff, Neighbors,Javier might be a god? who knows!, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Penis In Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, Creampie, Sex, Vaginal Sex, unprotected piv, Freyr, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Post Season 3

I'm obsessed with the way the challenge was interpreted. Is Javi a god? We don't know... but he sure fucks like one.

Some shit I wrote:

Make it Hurt - Logan Howlett x f!mutant!reader - sparring + pain kink

Morning Ride - Logan Howlett x f!reader - soft morning sex

You're So Dark - Dave York x f!reader - prof!Dave x student!Reader

[fountainpenguin]

Fairly OddParents! Fanfic Trope: Wings AU. :D

Put a fanfic trope in my inbox and I will tell you how likely I am to write it and which characters or pairing I'd most likely write it for (From HERE)

This is not a trope I'm likely to write for in FOP. We have so many wings already, I don't think I'd give more to people who don't belong to one of the many flying species.

I do think Sparky without his wings would be interesting, as I would've preferred to see him played more like a dog and less like some guy who sleeps in Timmy's room.

I also think Sammy Sweetsparkle is unique for having wings, but mostly choosing to walk instead of fly (Even running for his life from a monster instead of just flying above it).

I think the most likely way I'd write this trope is in an AU where Fairies aren't necessarily born and raised by Fairies, but they're "made" (Possibly tying into the "Fairy For a Day" canon we saw in New Wish where Hazel grew wings after signing the fairy contract). I'd probably tie this to changeling lore too.

The idea here would be that Cosmo and Wanda were once human - For this AU where I ignore timeline inconsistencies, I might use what they said in "Growing Pains" about being teens in the 1590s - and they start growing wings one day, and it would be a story about them navigating lives with their parents and wishing they had someone to talk to.

Then one day, a series of events leads one of them to reveal their wings to the other (Maybe to escape chaos) and they start their journey towards training as fairy godparents.

I guess the other part of this is that Cosmo yoinks some child's essence and gives birth to Poof because he stole his lifeforce or something, but I think that's very accurate for a changeling-themed story.

Mary Alice Doombringer is definitely an option, as I've tied her to magic in my own lore. I didn't go this direction, but I think a fairy who hunts other fairies would've been sick :)

For an option that's a little more grounded in the canon that I could do a multi-chapter Wing AU with, I'd likely pick Remy. In my lore, Juandissimo legally adopts Remy and he's the only godkid who gets to keep his memories when he grows up (I prefer Timmy being an average kid to the end and therefore following the path of memory erasure like godkids are meant to).

For Remy, it's very much a story of him being given a rare opportunity and trying to be the person who deserves it... someone who has faith and trust placed in him and he doesn't want to break it, so he's willing to put in the work that comes along with this gift.

I prefer Remy being human the whole time, but if I were to do a Wings AU, he'd probably be the one I'd go with. I like the idea of him still being a human, just with fairy wings. At first he hides them, but eventually reaches the point where he goes downstairs to grab something from the kitchen, passes his parents in the hall, and they don't even comment on the wings. lol.

In my lore, the von Strangles cut their wings off (Heavily implied by the Season 0 canon where Cosmo asks Jorgen where his wings are and Jorgen replies that they were too girly and he uses a jetpack).

Jorgen has two kids in my 'fics - Italy and Fanny; twins - with the impending threat of "one of you will be taking over from the Tooth Fairy and one will be Keeper of Da Rules" looming over their heads, with the "one of you needs to opt into cutting your wings off" implied along with it.

A Wing AU where the Keeper DOESN'T cut their wings off and faces tension for breaking tradition would be pretty neat too.

Put a fanfic trope in my inbox Ask Game

[thepastelspace]

I just saw the art of demon pickle and the way I'm kicking my legs and giggling! Could we get some information or like headcannons or ANYTHING about that au? On my hands and knees BEGGING for it please.

I am glad you like it!! I have never done anything like this, so I hope this is decent :]

In this Au, the hanma family and a few of the other fighters are demons. So count Yujiro, Baki, Jack, Doppo, Katsumi, Retsu, and Pickle. (Ofc there are more)

All of them have different physical attributes, like Pickle has 4 arms, for example.

Some demons live peacefully with humans, like Baki, Doppo, Katsumi, and Retsu... others don't.

Pickle is as ancient as the land they all walk on. He is from a time when demons were the apex predators. Humans were nothing but food or a rag doll for the demon children to play with. Since most demons kept a territory to themselves and didn't interact with other demons, he had no need to learn communications.

Pickle was a menace, such a menace that the remaining humans banded together, and at first tried to kill him. It wasn't successful. Then they decided to seal him under a mountain with ancient magic, or he would've probably killed them all.

He was sealed under the mountain for centuries... hell, even longer, really. In the meantime, Demons began living alongside humans, trying to put their history behind them. It was rather peaceful... When some fool decided to try his skills in ancient magic, he unlocked the seal. All the demons felt something appear, something new and foreign to them.

Pickle instantly went on a rampage, not only killing but devouring a whole village in the blink of an eye. It was horrific... but he was still hungry. The other towns began to fear their fate, and some decided that if they sent someone as a sacrifice, he might leave them alone...

This is a small summary of the story I had when I drew him :] Ahem, I shall also offer headcanons for this Pickle here:

This pickle is a bit more smart when it comes to humans. He has seen them before, sure only as food, but he had an idea of how they behaved. He understands their hostile and non hostile behavior.

He is unable to learn speech in any capacity. His tusks wouldn't allow him even if he tried.

However, writing, if taught with enough patience, is very doable. He will need one hell of a stick to write in the dirt.

This pickle is big... very big. If our normal pickle is almost 8 feet tall, this behemoth is 10 feet tall. He is humongous, and he can easily toss a person around like a ragdoll.

He likes to steal stuff off of the people he killed, especially shiny things. For example, the Red bead Mala necklaces he wears as bracelets, he stole them off of people he killed. They didn't fit around his head, so he wears them as barecelets.

Currently, he lives in the spruce forest. He can somewhat hide between the ancient trees. Though demon hunters know where he is, and they come pay him a visit. Unfortunately, they end up as snacks.

This is what I have in general. However, if you want something to do with Y/N 😏 hehehe feel free to ask :]

[trashogram]

Hey👋it’s me again. So I saw one of your weasel posts and read about Smartass having fantasies about reader so I thought what would the other weasels fantasies would be of reader?

Hi 💕

Oooh, this is a good question! I’m honestly not too sure about their individual fantasies. I think a big one for each weasel would be just not having to share Reader with any of the others.

Yeah they’re technically ‘a team’, who in my HC share an office and a car and work together on the job, but splitting the love and loyalty of an S/O between the 5 of them is tough work. And despite their villainy, this is actually not an extravagant ask.

If I try to come up with particular scenarios, the ones I have are:

Stupid probably just wishes Reader would take him to the playground and push him on the swings everyday. My HC is that Stu has some yearning for a quiet life without the chaos of being judge, jury and executioner to his fellow toons (but he was drawn a certain way, so even if he has the fantasy, Stupid would probably still compulsively commit crimes).

Wheezy might fantasize about a Bonnie and Clyde lifestyle with Reader. They could be a criminal couple enjoying the high life on money they stole from unsuspecting rubes. He’d buy you all the prettiest jewels you could ever want and the two of you could roll around in your filthy wealth together after shooting 9 rounds side by side while running from the cops.

Psycho has multiple fantasies that you could visualize as reels in a view-master. One image is him and Reader as the sole members of the Toon Patrol with no one to answer to and all the time in the world to scare and menace other toons. But another image could be him and Reader living au natural in the woods while hunting rabbits. And yet another might be him as a professor up for tenure at a toon university with Reader as his loving and loyal doctor wife. Or maybe he sees the two of you spending the rest of your days rocking around in a rubber room. It changes like the weather.

Greasy… um. Well, we’ll have to distinguish that by fantasies we mean purely innocent daydreams and not things you’d write to Penthouse Forum about. Honestly, Greasy imagines going out with Reader in the human world whenever he’d like, dining and dancing and never getting hassled to “do something funny” just because he’s a toon. Greasy is a little insecure about his celluloid self, not that he’d ever say so out loud or let anyone that would say such a thing live.

[frayed-symphony]

Once upon a time I had a Tales of Symphonia OC called Reimi.

It was the early noughties. I was a teenager obsessed with 2 things - Tales of Symphonia and Full Metal Alchemist. I had seen on my favourite website at the time; DeviantART, that people would sometimes self-insert themselves into their favourite shows/games and even though I'd thought about it before, I loved these two things so much I finally decided to do the same and 'Reimi' was born.

She was my ideal version of how I looked and because I was being bullied almost every day at school, the world of Symphonia in particular was a great comfort to me. Anytime I had a particularly bad day I started to draw Reimi.

I did have one real life friend, my best friend from primary school and we'd chat on the phone every night. I convinced her to play ToS with me and the two of us fell down this rabbit hole and I made her an OC too. We called her Beatrix and she was Reimi's older sister. It was your typical 'human girls fall into fantasy world and crush on their favourite character' story. I liked Lloyd and my friend liked Kratos. We would roleplay them together and write stories for each others birthdays and Christmases. It got me through the horrible things happening at school.

In time we started to make other characters. I decided I wanted Reimi to have a summon spirit - a polar bear called Meikai who could change between human and bear form. My friend had a similar 'devil' summon, Kainashi and I started to draw them as well. (Totally stole this from Sheena but it was very fun)

The final character we designed was Harvey - he was the only one we tried to give a canonical link to Symphonia. He was the Prince of the Tethe'allan royal family and Hilda's brother. The reason you never saw him in the game, we reasoned, was because he didn't want to be a Prince and left to travel the world in secret. He runs into our heroines and becomes a part of the group. I also wanted to write some love triangle stories at that point so he has a crush on Reimi.

For a long time these characters were my whole life. They filled my brain and I would always be thinking of stories for them. The ToS characters always factored into these stories but I was too embarrassed to draw them or have anything romantic happening and that might have been because of the backlash I saw a lot of self-insert authors get. I kept my stories mostly off the internet.

But I kept drawing them as the years went on, even designing bosses and creatures for them to fight, this was one such creature - 'Malcolm' the robot. One of Rodyle's machines.

In time life got in the way. My friend and I didn't get to speak as much so the drawing motivation started to fizzle out.

I still thought and cared about these characters but there was no fresh ideas forming for them. As I got older I started to have less time for them.

This is the last drawing I ever made of them and though you might still see me draw Reimi from time to time, its been years since I drew any of the others.

I did use them for animation practise on my University course though

So that's where we are today. I had a lot of AUs for Reimi. You may have seen this potion shop picture before, it's one of my favourite ideas where Reimi is living in the slums in Meltokio, working to keep her family's store open by selling potions. It even got a Daily Deviation on deviantART! I'm sure most people didn't know it was a self-insert drawing.

Another idea I liked was Reimi being the daughter of Kvar. She's grown up in the human ranches (though largely away from their brutality) and Lloyd's group visit is a wake-up call to her that what her father and Cruxis are doing may be wrong.

I came up with way too many stories to list here.. but uh... maybe I did draw some Reimi/Lloyd art occassionally...

and thats all you're gonna see!!

Anyway I just wanted to revisit these characters since I've been doing that with my books this month. Maybe you already knew about this, maybe you didn't!! It's just a fun look into my teenage self. I am trying to draw a new outfit for Reimi now, to see how much I've improved drawing her. I hope I can post it soon.

Thanks for reading!

[quaggyday]

Here’s a drawing I spent a little less time on cause I wanted it out quicker to explain Lang’s lore. Btw does anyone have tips for drawing hands.

Undertale gold au and Rover belong to @s0ckh3adstudios and knowing what she’s written beforehand helps in context for this story.

Also Tw for neglect, bullying, and violence that is at least sort of talked about.

Enjoy my word babbles!

Lang only recently moved into the town near Mt Ebott and they were really lonely and isolated. Their parents were pretty negligent of them and they had a hard time speaking and communicating with others. (I’m trying to write they have aphasia or some other type of disability, need to do more research though)

The only way Lang could talk to others was through their notebooks but because of language barriers and their tendency to scare other kids off little progress was made. So when they ran to the mountain to get away from bullies, Lang decided to go higher and talk to the monsters they had read about in books.

They reached the top and fell down, and from there Lang tried to mess around with the meta of Undertale. They tried to give themselves the ability to create dialogue boxes and talk the way monsters do, through written sentences in video games. Due to their lack of determination or possibly Tores influence however, they were unable to create a perfect box.

So when they tried using ACTS to talk, Lang’s words were extremely messy and jumbled and actively scared monsters away in the process. Feeling rejected by both humans and monsters Lang wanted to leave.

But as they stumbled through the darkness of the ruins to the snowy area, their anger began to rise as more monsters fled from them. They actively barked and screamed tand eventually they tried climbing a tree with their perseverance powers in the hope of reaching the underground ceiling.

They fell down for the second time that day and survived only with their invincibility. When they awoke their notebook was gone and Lang was pissed.

Racing through the snow, their SOUL beat with purple and actively created a ton of damage in their wake. Lang’s chase eventually lead them to Snowdin where the group of monsters who stole Lang’s notebook had given it to Rover.

Lang lunged forward, knocking out Axis for a couple seconds and scaring off the monsters. In their fury they prepared to attack Rover but only found the monsters apologetic expression.

This snapped them out of their rage and Lang finally tried saying what was on their mind- tried apologizing. But it was too late as adult monsters came to see a human had entered their home. So Lang grabbed their notebook and Rover’s hat by accident and made a break for it.

They ran to waterfall where they were cornered by Axis, but quickly beat them with raw anguish and threw the robot over a waterfall. Lang then only stumbled further ahead until they reached a dead end.

Feeling nothing but guilt for their actions, Lang chose to write one last message in their notebook before they were cornered by Dalv. One lightning strike was enough and Lang didn’t fight back. They let it happen, let themselves rest.

(Until Dalv and Chujin revived Lang and ended up pissing them off ten times more)

Anyway, tell me anything about the lore I’ve written since there is a possibility it might change. If you have any questions just ask in notes too.

Random notes!

-Lang talks in a weird way, since they use ACTS and dialogue boxes. They don’t open their mouth and instead sentences from them look like this

“Lang asks why monsters are underground”

“Lang agrees to the plan ”

“Lang explains that they are tired of people’s shit”

-Lang is Chinese and they also know English, sign language, morse code, and wing dings for shits and giggles.

-Lang is a very blunt kid, but they are genuinely polite and caring to those around them. Their emotions just tend to get the better of them though.

-They love comic books and comic strips, and they specifically talk just about them

[crappyyuki]

Bryan with lava eyes :DDD

It’s been a while since I fully colored smth :,)

Here’s the Sketch and the one with a background!

I attempted to make lava. I’m not sure if it went well lmao.

I also don’t know how to draw or render muscles but BUFF BRYAN SUPREMACY!

HE IS SLIGHTLY TONED BUT HE CAN FLATTEN A STONE FUCKING COUNTER THATS CANON FIGHT ME

Honestly, I’m not sure if I can write this AU. With confidence I mean. I already got like a 15k word outline going on and it’s still going and it’s been like that for the past 3 years. Yeah. Pretty crazy. But if I can’t write this then I might resort into posting a bulleted list on what I should’ve written in the betterment of those 3 years instead of making a long ass outline to get it out into the world.

I love this AU, you have no idea, but it is so hard to write. So bear with me. I’ll give a bit of insight into it.

• This is a canon divergence of the canon timeline where instead of Bryan taking the hit, it’s Molten taking the hit. (My guy is not having a great time. Both of them.)

• This AU is canon defiant to the actual lore in Bryan’s series. A lot actually. This is a bit more canon compliant to the Fnaf storyline. Focusing more on spirits and souls than portals and portal magic. Soul juice produced from murdered children. All that good stuff. Don’t get me wrong, I love the series but I wish it focused on the souls of the kids and their stories if only a little.

• Let’s say there are a lot of hidden secrets in the old pizzeria that Bryan would carry to his grave. Most of them is guilt. The other is shame borderlining to self loathing.

• “No one would ever believe you.” :)

• This AU’s pov is also on the animatronics side. Mostly Freddy, Helpy (the old one), and maybe probably Foxy (the Rockstar one) I miss them, okay?

• Pat is around too. Watching over the animatronics while getting deathly afraid of them for a definite period of time before making friends with them because wow, those robots aren’t actually gonna force them into a Freddy Fazbear suit. Why did they listen to a pre-recorded message anyway?

• Jon is the one that stumbles onto the secret. But its not complete. He wonders where he should find the other pieces.

• You know OG Freddy? How he was repaired? Yeah. That part wasn’t the only thing that brought him back to life.

• And the monitor Lefty stole from the pizzeria? Maybe Egg Baby? Wonder whats that for?

• The book that Bryan gave to Twisted Bonnie also changed. Still has the blueprints of the animatronics but of different animatronics.

• “Hmmmm, I wonder what I can do for Baby’s birthday? How can I make it her happiest day of her shortlived li—wait, can I even say that?????”

• Also, does anyone know what happened to Twisted Freddy? Did he just become the wind or what? We’ll see.

• Since Lefty didn’t die, let’s say Shadow Freddy had other places to be. And Twisted Wolf? Honestly forgot about that guy hahaha I’ll think of something.

• Oh! EB (Evil Bryan) is there too! Like actually.

• It’s quite funny to have two short humans going on offense while literal monsters go on support and defense lmao. What a bunch of losers.

• “See you on the flipside!”

• Hey. What’s up with Bryan’s eyes?

That’s all for now. Maybe I’ll post another one or work on a chapter? Who knows…

I can’t promise anything. I can only promise that the next will take a whileeeeeeee, a post or a chapter.

I still have not named this AU and marked it as INSERT TITLE HERE.

And to those that recognize that title, I am so sorry. I literally redid the first 5 chapters, finished 4, then dropped it off at chapter 7-8. Chapter 1-4 are finished but 5-8 is a land mine. I don’t know how to keep it going lmao. No really, it’s a struggle writing this dang thing and I want it out of my head too. I can’t promise any chapters or that I’m working on it because I’m so busy but I did not forget it if thats what you’re thinking. It’s just hard to write. Like really hard. That’s why I focused a bit on oneshots.

One things for sure though. It’s either chapter 5, 6, or 7 BUT—

Minigames. Plus Springtrap.

ITH!Bryan: Oh joy.

Feel free to ask questions about this AU! I’d be happy to answer! (Most of them anyway. Can’t reveal everything.)

[quirked-causer-of-chaos]

I have realised that despite this being a mha blog I made so I could talk and ramble about my writing fanfic as well at some point I've been doing an awful lack of rambling on my aus.

On that note, wanna hear about a different Oboro survives AU than the one I have already posted on ao3?

Too bad I'm talking bout it anyways (sorry)

Cut because this gets LONG

So the other au I had in mind than Hidden, not Gone is one I actually came up with before H,nG, and it's part space au, definitely an oboro survives au, found family au, vigilante au, and not-villains league of Villains.

So AFO is an alien overlord in a space station orbiting Earth, cloaked with tech that doesn't let human tech detect him. Humans are the only race with quirks, but AFO managed to create a gene-altering tech that is capable of destroying and re-creating quirk genes from one person to another, and he starts abducting humans from Earth to build up his arsenal of quirks and turn the humans he takes into Nomu.

When AFO found out, he did not kill Yoichi, instead locking him in a sector of the ship where he couldn't get into trouble.

Yoichi was AFO's half brother, actually half human, and so he had a quirk gene himself, but it was hidden. AFO tried to sway his brother to his side by giving him a stockpiling quirk, thus OFA was born. Yoichi was not swayed however, and instead used his power to help two humans escape with their quirks, passing One For All to them so they could take it to Earth and cultivate it to defeat All For One.

On Earth, years pass and the story of OFA and AFO fade to a slightly altered legend, that AFO is a human villain with a quirk-stealing quirk, hiding out on a human-made space station villain base in Earth's orbit. The alterations were unintentional, but by the time OFA reached All Mights hands, all mentions of aliens and quirk stealing tech were omitted from the tale.

So when he and Nana and Gran Torino reach the space station to fight who they assumed was a man, a human, they're met with an alien, who kills Nana, and All Might and Gran Torino survive only because Nana told Torino to take Toshinori and escape in one of the escape pods.

All Might is still convinced All For One is human, just corrupted and changed by all the quirks he stole.

Fast forward several years. Oboro dies. Except he doesn't, he just gets abducted during the fight he would have died in, and put through two years of Nomuification. He becomes distinctly inhuman, and he only breaks free when Tenko is taken, so when Oboro sees the CHILD (Oboro would be like 19/20 at this point and Tenko would be 8/9/10 by the time they meet) that AFO has been attempting to manipulate into becoming a pawn, keeping him human so he could be sent back down to Earth to kill all Might when he's ready, Oboro is not having that. He takes Tenko and looks for an escape, that eventually bringing him to Yoichi's quarters during the escape. Yoichi helps them escape and All For One is not so forgiving this time.

Oboro and Tenko land on Earth and survive for the next ten years, gaining new family members along the way: Izuku in an alleyway after being kicked out at age eight, and Hitoshi and Eri trying to protect each other after Eri escaped from Overhaul and Hitoshi protected her.

They get a house, Tenko makes friends, they all get fake names and fake ID (Tenko learns hacking. He knows all the 'cheat codes')

Hitoshi and Izuku take up fully legal vigilantism, and Oboro tags along to make sure they don't die. In short, all the trio do is act as scouts, finding scuffles and mugging and such and alerting the nearest heroes. They gain a reputation as the trio of Scouts: Sun, Moon, and Void (Izuku, Hitoshi, and Oboro)

Other things thar happen along the course of what I imagine may be a plot if I rotated it more, include: Chaos, Izuku almost breaking Oboro's rule of not dying several times, the League of Villains not being villains and instead being Tenko's misfit friend group, Eri and Tenko being the only ones with brain cells in the Kurogiri house, Stain getting abducted, Oboro knowing more about the All For One One For All thing than he logically should, people being idiots, people being less of idiots but still lacking in brain cells, Mei Hatsume, Eraserhead wondering why the third member of the trio of scout vigilantes is avoiding him like the plague on patrol (Oboro doesn't want to be recognized bc that'll hurt too much for Shouta to know he's not even human anymore), and angst and fluff and hurt comfort.

:D

[darkpoisonouslove]

💯 [100] How many words does your WIP currently have? How many words do you hope it'll have when it's done? - Fallen Love

🎀 [Bow] How many named characters are in this WIP? How many do get a POV? - CoL trying to have one peaceful breakfast

💖 [Heart] What is your favorite moment in this WIP? - Fallen Love

‍🎨 [Palette] If your WIP was a color, which color would it be? - forgive me for being too lazy to look up the title, but the sequel to the Marion x Griffin AU where they make out in the CT crypt

❌ [Cross] What would your WIP get cancelled on Twitter for? - may I say the water stars wip 🤭

💯 [100] How many words does your WIP currently have? How many words do you hope it'll have when it's done?

What is this question? I have absolutely no idea what is happening here but my brain was trying to convince me to add a new chapter to this just today so I refuse to tempt fate. I am just going to say that, ideally, chapter 3 will remain the longest chapter of this fic even when it's completed.

🎀 [Bow] How many named characters are in this WIP? How many do get a POV?

Bold of you to assume I've gotten anywhere past chapter 1 with this fic. There are at least 10 named characters in it (but probably 12 since I think Erendor and Samara might make appearances). As for PoVs so far only Griffin's is guaranteed. I don't know if it's a good idea to add anyone else's PoV because I feel that if I include more than one of the CoL members, then I'd have to include all of them. But on the other side, I am really enjoying the image of Saladin that I've developed in my head and it would be interesting to explore some of his PoV. Especially since he's the only CoL member whose PoV I haven't written yet. I guess we'll just have to see (if I ever get to writing that).

💖 [Heart] What is your favorite moment in this WIP?

I'll have you know that this question was almost the death of me. Every time I'd pick a scene, my brain would be like "But what about this other one?" or "Yeah, but it needs the context from that earlier scene to really hit". This is like picking a favorite child.

With the caveat that I wouldn't talk about certain scenes because they are major spoilers so I could have a more favorite one among those that I refuse to mention, I have to say that my favorite is the scene where Valtor brings Griffin some of her mother's notes that he collected from the Coven's hideouts.

You see, when the Coven killed Emalyn, they stole all her work that they could find in her home before burning it down to the ground. Now Valtor was a major asshole in the previous chapter but don't jump to the conclusion that he's doing this to make it up to Griffin. He's, in fact, continuing to be an even bigger asshole as he only brought her the notes to make a point. Or rather to further prove the point he was making in the previous chapter - aka the reason why Griffin has been depressed and mad at him.

Griffin tries to turn the point on him because if it's true about her, then it's true about him too, which of course, majorly annoys him. When he cannot get her to drop it, he finally reveals that there was a point in time when he considered telling her absolutely everything about himself aka the fact that he was bound to the Ancestral Witches (which she'd already guessed more or less) and the fact that he's not human and his demon form is his original one (which Griffin had no idea about). He was going to trust her with that but when their plan (to get information pertaining to him freeing himself from the Witches) fell through, he decided not to do it. Not because he was disappointed in her as the failure was mostly hers, but because telling her would have come with certain dangers that could have very well resulted in the exact same situation that she forced on him with her betrayal - she may have needed to stay away from him for an extended period of time and he couldn't bear the thought without the benefit of his potential freedom from the Witches.

Griffin is totally floored by this confession but he's not done yet. He also states that he doesn't care about anything she did - whether her failure in that past moment or her betrayal. He's still just as taken with her.

🎨 [Palette] If your WIP was a color, which color would it be?

The sequel (to Smolder) doesn't have a title yet. I was thinking of sort of making all parts have titles connected with fire but we'll see about that. It doesn't really fit with this answer because I see this fic as pale green. It's a new beginning for both of them (though mostly for Marion) so it's the color of a tiny flower that's just sprouted from the ground - only has a stem and barely any leaves still. Also green to signal that everything between them is going slowly but very well.

❌ [Cross] What would your WIP get cancelled on Twitter for?

I've never been on Twitter + this is barely a WiP yet so I don't have much in the way of an answer. I guess it would be cancelled for how "problematic" Griffin's choice almost is, for how "selfish" Marion is and for some possible queerbaiting if I add that little detail about Marion and Griffin in the beginning (you know, where they're the only ones that remain together for a while).

[n4talia-chaparro]

Can you tell me bout your CU au pwease👉👈

🦋||꒷꒦︶🌿︶︶꒷꒦︶∪∪︶꒷꒦︶︶🌿︶꒷꒦||🦋

I might be terrible and bad explaining but I don't know if you want the lore or the small info or facts then I guess I've to give it a try <:]

So lemme try to explain half of the lore cuz it's still in process and development (?)

Ahem uh here's the laziest, cringy and random summary or sum cuz most people don't take me seriously don't mind me being hella goofy and silly with the lore.

Harold and George were minding their business until they noticed that the school bell hadn't made a single sound after all the children were in class. Bo showed up a bit and George asked him what happened and turns out the bell was broken and Ms. Yewh has been sick since "yesterday" and isn't going to come back until further notice. However, Bo also mentioned that they will be having a substitute teacher since he overheard the conversation with the staff room or the meeting or whatever fucking room the school has. The boys thought it was a good moment to prank, etc. until the prank went wrong and Krupp got hella pissed so uh

The next day the substitute teacher came and surprise it was Jerry himself, then Melvin thought of making an invention and name it "smartychanger2000" or sum since he wants smart teachers to exist but unfortunately instead of shooting Jerry with it, Krupp got shoot. Did he became a monster? Nah. It took him 3 or more months for his brain to develop Intelligent and then uh few moments later the motherfucker snapped and accidentally killed Ms. Hurd only because she was talking about her time and mention something about childhood and made Krupp triggered by it causing the bastard to snap the leaving fuck out. Finding out not only his anger issue got more worst, he can also break thinks and is smart now.

So uh weeks or month has passed and no one noticed Hurd's disappearance except for Melvin who has been noticing Krupp's behavior but yet uh unfortunately Melvin was the 1st child to be fucking missing and being used as a human experiment or sum, uh not to mention that's how he probably stole Melvin's IQ or intellect. Possibly slamming the child's head harder to a wall or with a basebat, or rule book (get it cuz heavy ass book??? No ok) and uhhhh what else

Yeah, the school feels like hell and everyone in the damn school has been noticing that things were changing, more teachers and students missing, some dead as fuck and others were uh...buried alive. Idfk.

A few months went by and well.

Jerry was being called for a private meeting with Krupp. And they began arguing until...well you guessed it! Krupp attempted to kill him but unfortunately, Jerry escaped and got his left upper arm stabbed. (Now you know why he had a fucking bandage in some of my art so don't be surprised to see a Jerry with a bloody ass bandage) and things didn't age well.

More fucked up shit happened before Cap and Krupp were separated cuz idk how the fuck did they separated them? Idk the logic or sum but Krupp did wanted to get rid of him and his sidekicks too so uh--

And that's the point of the crappy au uh-.

It's so cringy that I'm dying from embarrassment ciz the au itself is bad.

So hopefully I can do proper writing about it like omg bro. I need to fix the au fr fr ‼️‼️😭😭💀💀

[nyxthedragon225]

i’ve read your pd zombie apocalypse au! i really enjoy it and i’m very curious to see where it will go! i don’t have any like direct questions but seeing your au ask made me really interested to hear more about a few if you wanna say anything about them!

- riptide superhero au

- pd college cafe

- riptide notes through desk

- modern riptide

- haunted library pd

- bitb fake dating

- bitb space au

OHOHOHOHOHHHHH YES

okay so first of all tysm for the nice things abt the zombie au :] its going to be a wild ride!

- riptide superhero au, i've already started writing but im gonna finish the whole thing before i post it. basically, chip and jay are supervillains (kinda) and gill is a hero. gill catches chip trying to steal a museum artifact (to return it to someone the museum stole it from (yes this is my anti-international museum propaganda fuck that shit)) and chip&jay slowly show gill how fucked up hero society is and turn him "villain."

- pd college cafe: william is a tired insomniac college student who drops by the new campus cafe and encounters dakota, the new barista. at the same time he meets his new classmate, Vyncent and he's rooming with Ashe, his friend from highschool in an apartment of campus. Also he might have a major crush on all three of them.

- Riptide notes through desk: The Albatrio all share a desk at dofferent periods and one day Chip leaves a note for himself in the desk. This leads to the three of them talking to each other through desk notes and becoming friends.

- modern riptide: i dont actually remember a lot about this one but I think the jist was that gill was a kid in a private school and after he graduated, he moved to a small coastal town called Mana to try and experience life outside the half-cult he was pretty much raised in and meets Jay, who's doing the same thing after getting out of her ultra-military family, and chip helps both of them experience freedom for the first time.

- haunted library pd: William is a ghost haunting the Rockfall Public Library. He doesn't do anything bad, he's more of a library helper than anything, helping people find books by floating them to the people. The town of Rockfall is a very Nightvale kinda place, and it's really just weird af with all the ghosts and supernatural stuff. Dakota and Ashe have lived in Rockfall their whole lives and are pretty good friends with William. Vyncent and Tide move there (Tide is Vyncent's foster dad) and they're both freaked out by all the weirdass shit happening in this town and the others have tk help them adjust.

- bitb fake dating au: in 1990, Kian is a rockstar and fans keep bugging him about his dating life, and Rolan's (very shitty) extended family invited him to christmas dinner and he doesn't want to go alone. They meet through Rand, who's Rolan's highschool friend and Kian's weed dealer, and decide to fake date to solve both problems. long story short they all three end up dating.

- bitb space au: rolan is an alien shapeshifter who, through a series of misunderstandings and shenanigans, ends up as a wanted criminal on the run from the law. He disguises himself as human lawyer Rolan Deep and moves to a small Venus colony called Galloway. He meets Rand and Kian, who eventually find out about the whole "criminal alien" thing because he's very bad at hiding it and decide to help him. Now all three of them are considered criminals because they're all very bad at pretty much everything /lh

[sassaffrassa]

fanfic asks for the new year... 5 and 8!! and 11!

5. Which WIP is first on your list to complete this year? Will you post a snippet?

ok so the first WIP on the docket is for an exchange so here's the second one, which is a friendly gangbang sex-pollen fic starring your man Vernon Roche and the Blue Stripes

“It’s a fever, like any fever— it’ll kill him. Eventually.” Shorty’s been medic for like a million years by now but even he blushes as he adds, “Unless someone fucks the toxin out of him.”

Fenn pokes his head into the tent. “Did you just say—“

“Out!” Ves snaps, going for her blades. She likes Fenn, he’s practical, and a ruthless son of a bitch, but she doesn’t trust his sense of judgement— he likes to poke people when they’re weak, and he likes to prod Roche when he’s antsy, and if he gets into one of his moods about this- this— whole stupid mess? She’s not having it. “Watch the door, and send somebody to get Thirteen,” she says in her Commander voice, the one she stole from Roche. Then she turns to Shorty. “Did you just say—?”

“As far as I could ever tell, it’s nontoxic to elves,” Shorty offers uselessly. “Only humans— well, half-humans too— are affected to the point of life threatening illness, but I’m told it’s used as an aphrodisiac for elven fertility rituals.”

Ves puts her hands on her hips. “Why do you know that,” she says with a squint.

“I’ve lost patients to it before,” he says with a weary look— his whiskers hide a lot of the lines of his face, but his eyes get very tired every time he thinks about the men he’s lost. “The first, we didn’t realise what was happening— the fever didn’t get him, it was the clawing at his own belly to get at his insides that did it.”

Ves feels a cold wave of horror inside her own stomach at the thought— “The second time, I recognized the symptoms. Got one of the boys to try his hand at managing it for the lad, but… my helper couldn’t go long enough to keep the fever down and the other one died. Fever cooked his brain through.”

Roche makes a pained noise then, hunching in on himself. Ves stares blankly at his shivering, bony back, picturing him digging his fingers into his gut to carve out the pain and ache as they all watch helplessly. The little red lines of infection— are they a little longer? A little darker, coursing through Roche’s veins like Black Ones clogging up the rivers, invading and burning as they go?

“Ok. So. We fuck him,” she says, decisively.

(crack done seriously 🤝 emphasis on die in fuck or die)

8. Is there a story idea in your mental vault that you’ve never been brave enough to try writing? Is this the year? Can you tell us about it?

(lol everybody asked for 8 and now i’m determined to answer each one individually)

for you: the story of conman, grifter, terrible actor Sophie Devereaux Julian Pancratz, who never went to Oxenfurt academy, stole the lute that he has the first time he meets Geralt, and makes up terrible songs in order to preserve his cover, and then keeps doing it because he wants Geralt to like him.

morally grey grifter meets unintentionally honorable witcher, somehow catches feelings. he’s in it for the long con.

11. Would you like to try any new fanfic genres or tropes this year?

gangster AU— noir is a genre i’m not much used to writing in, and urban fantasy pseudo-noir even less so 😂 but i really love all the brainstorming that this mob boss au generated on discord and i wanna write more of thisssssss

also more cowboy au, i like cowboy au

i will use the same tropes i know and love, where loyalty without morals is violence, and twisted fealty might feel like love but it’s still a power imbalance. (squishing Roche until he squeaks is my main motivation)

[funkys-pen]

“Oohhh!!! That soulmate au where any writing on their arms shows up on the others arm!!! And they end up complaining about each other to each other until one of them finally realizes” [prompt via @mothman-files​]

word count: 1056 | warnings: none ! | overall: fwhip/jimmy, soulmate au :D

-

Hello?

woah?? hello???

Hi.

Im your soulmate.

what??? no way

Yes way.

this is so weird, what?

Were you not expecting this? Eventually I mean

no?

how’s this even work?

When I write on my arm it shows up on yours. And vice versa

oh??

I take it soulmates aren’t a big thing in your culture.

i guess not

Thats fine. Its mainly a human thing.

and yet here i am

and yet here you are

-

how have you been?

-

Sorry. I felt you write something but I didnt see it. Ive been really busy.

it’s alright.

i just asked how you are :)

Aw.

Ive been fine. You?

same here.

-

I know its been a while again. Im sorry. Lots of family stuff.

I probably wont be back for a while. Have a good day though

all good. i hope everything turns out alright.

-

2.5 per star

3 stars

7.5 hearts per rocket

2 rockets bare

what murder am i witnessing?

Oh

Im sorry I forgot you could see this

you’re fine, you’re fine

been like… a couple years, i get it.

you’re definitely plotting murder though, whats up with that?

Ugh. Just this guy.

Hes annoying as hell.

so you’re killing him?

yeah.

okay. fair

whatd he do to you anyways?

Not much today.

He doesnt really do much, hes just irritating and its funny when hes mad.

i think i’m about to learn my soulmate’s a massive prick.

Me? No, never.

Yeah, a little bit.

-

i might be ready to plot a murder myself

Oh? Do tell

this smug twit. he took something of mine and cgod i hate this guy.

Whatd he take?

idk if i can tell you that.

something really important to me.

Secrets, secrets.

Whyd he take it?

hell if i know.

to be a twit.

He sounds like an ass.

he is.

Best of luck. Kill him slowly and terribly for me.

i will.

-

i think i just made a really big mistake.

i’m sorry. i know its late

Its fine. Me too actually.

what’d you do?

Dont think I can say.

me neither.

if you do something, and you know the consequences, but you’re just so angry that you don’t really realize the severity

does that make you a bad person?

I dont think so.

why not?

I guess its all about intent in the end, right?

You didnt really mean to do what you did.

But maybe thats just wishful thinking cause I sort of did the same thing.

huh.

Not quite, I mean. I wasnt really angry. I just didnt expect everything to happen like it did. I probably shouldve.

i get it

Or maybe were both just assholes.

maybe. we’re destined for each other for a reason.

Right.

I need to go to bed. If I can.

alright. rest well.

<3

I’ll try. You too.

<3

-

by the way, did i tell you i got my thing back?

the thing he stole from me.

Oh good :) Congrats

-

what's your name anyways?

Oh I definitely cant tell you that

aw, come on

No seriously. Youll know exactly who I am.

what are you, a celebrity?

Something like that

How about you, what’s your name?

well now im worried about saying mine.

What are you, a celebrity?

i mean sort of??

its a really generic name but i feel like it + the things i’ve told you would clue you off

especially if you know my empi

ignore that

Wait

No chance

ignore that ignore that

Youre an emperor?

Who are you?

dammit

Wait

Oh for fucks sake.

what?

-

hello?

-

look, i’m sorry if that freaked you out or something but

Its not that, christ.

I mean it kind of is, I guess

Ugh.

Hi Jimmy

there it is

hi.

-

you’re not a citizen are you

no one out of the codlands calls me jimmy

and we don’t do the whole soulmate thing here.

-

so after much deliberation, i think i’ve figured you out

Go ahead.

sausage.

Oh my fucking god.

what’s that mean?

Howd you get that. Please do tell.

is that a no?

well because we stopped talking due to your family issues right

and around that time was when the whole grimlands heir thing happened

and you’re too mean to be gem, and sausage is the twins like stepbrother or something

Godbrother

And Gems pretty mean.

either way

it was either sausage or fwhip.

and you wrote to me after the end fight saying you made a mistake and sausage helped free the demon

+you wouldn’t tell me your name because i’d know

fWhip also has a pretty unique name

and he led you to the dragon in the first place.

i mean sure

but that would mean fwhip is my soulmate

Is that really that much more unbelievable than it being sausage?

eh. sausage isnt really all that bad.

but not him, got it.

well there goes my one lead.

What do you mean?

the family issues thing. i can’t remember anything else around that time.

What about fWhip?

Again. That’d mean he’s my soulmate.

Jimmy.

what?

Youre ridiculous.

what??

come on, what do you mean?

Im going to fly to the Codlands and Im going to kill you

what’d i do???

wait really?????

-

you could’ve just told me.

You couldve just guessed better.

And I reiterate, you are dense as brick.

“What about fWhip” “How do you know it isnt fWhip” etc etc

Seriously I thought I was being too obvious.

well clearly you weren’t

it's not my fault. why would you be my soulmate i hate you

You didnt seem very hateful when you k

okay okay okay i get it

that aside

that aside you're just not what i expected

Uh huh

You literally called me a prick when I was talking about blowing you up, I think that

you were talking about me???

fits my bill pretty well

Yes??

God you are hopeless.

<3

aw. that heart feels passive aggressive.

Maybe it is.

whatever

we need to talk about this tomorrow

Oh are we going to be doing as much talking as we did today

Thats “talking”, with quotation marks, by the way. In case you couldnt tell.

shut up

cod i hate you

Do I need to remind you of my previous comment?

shove off

<3

<3

[xenia12]

Me and @froggythesculptor came up with YET ANOTHER Darcy AU lmao. This one happens after the 10 year timeskip when Sasha, Anne, and Marcy manage to get a portal working. Marcy ends up getting re-possessed by The Core (ofc it’s still alive. It’s a cockroach, duh) except it now only consists of the non-royal members. We have more info but I don’t wanna elaborate too much right now since I might end up writing a fic for this lol.

Anyways, here’s a script scene thing I wrote :P

*Inside an FBI outpost or whatever near L.A. at 4am*

Darcy: *attempts to get the portal to start up by trying different commands on the computer next to it*

*The door busts open and Darcy raises their head to see Anne and Sasha enter, each holding up some sci-fi looking gun that they probably stole from the federal government on their way to the portal room*

Anne: You won’t be conquering anything on our watch, cockroach.

Sasha: I suggest you put your rental hands up if you don’t want us to kill you again.

Darcy: *smirks at them then casually focuses back on the computer and continues typing, clearly not intimidated in the slightest* Ah, there you are, girls! And you arrived *glances at the time in the corner of the screen* 7 minutes quicker than we calculated, well done! However, you still manage to disappoint us. We already told you that we rid ourselves of the Leviathan dynasty, yet you still believe we have the same insipid goals.

Sasha: Are you saying you… don’t care about the whole multiversal domination thing you were going for last time?

Darcy: *scoffs* Of course not. Not only is it impossible to control an infinite number of worlds, but the aim is also remarkably basic. As to be expected from a line of narcissistic tyrants who share a personality, we suppose.

Anne: Oh. *lowers her gun a bit* Then what’re you doing?

Darcy: Just checking how you humans cracked making portals without the gems. We don’t exactly have the resources to figure it out ourselves anymore since you three *makes a circular gesture with their finger to include their host* somehow DRAINED the most powerful objects in the multiverse.

Sasha: But why would you need portals if you’re not going to other worlds?

Darcy: *laughs* Oh, blondie, we never said anything about that! We may not be invading, but we do still have a mission.

Sasha: Which is…?

Darcy: *sighs* Eh, why not. *finally looks up from the computer again and leans on the desk a bit with one hand* We intend to discover all that we can about as many dimensions as possible. Of course, following the same logic as earlier, it is quite impossible to learn EVERYTHING. But, even so, the idea is far more appealing than what those boorish overgrown salamanders had planned. Like, they’ve destroyed so many thrilling temples and puzzles along with countless fascinating species just for their ridiculous pursuit of power. What a waste.

Anne:

Sasha: Oh my god it’s a fucking nerd-

[anjanahalo]

Tying It

Here’s my first attempt at sharing my writing. Based on tswwwit’s Familiar AU, so this is a BillDip story. Granted, to get it, I highly recommend reading at least their story “Faking It.” Otherwise, go ahead and read. Rated M for consensual adult situations between adults.

��Hey, Bill?” Dipper poked his head into their bedroom. Bill sat at Dipper’s desk, feet crossed on top of his scattered notes, eating beef jerky. At least it looked like the jerky Dipper bought specifically for Bill. Finding out he stole from Dipper’s stash would ruin not only the mood but the question Dipper wanted to ask. He closed the door behind him and gave a small cough to clear his throat. “So, um, question,” Dipper opened.

“Shoot!”

“Well, I’ve, um…” Dipper took a deep breath. This was Bill he was talking to. No matter what else they might snipe at each other for, THIS was something Bill swore was as close to sacred ground as an all powerful mind demon would get. He won’t laugh. He might say no, but Dipper won’t be mocked. At least he hoped so. “I’ve been….researching, about stuff. And there’s this thing called ‘shibari’ and….” “Ohhhhhhh…” Bill’s eye lit up, he tossed the jerky bag aside quite literally. Dipper reminded himself they could clean that later. “So, interested in getting artfully tied up?” “Um, actually…” This was the hard part. The part it took him a while to admit to himself he imagined when he saw the online images, the videos, even the book he secretly bought for more details. When he saw the shibari rope bindings, he didn’t imagine himself at all. Every model he saw, especially the male ones, shifted into one specific individual, and Dipper had to admit to himself the mere thought was enthralling. Well, here goes. “I was thinking…could I try it on you?” Bill stared. Dipper said nothing. Silence ruled for a long, uncomfortable time before Bill shifted, his feet dropping off the desk onto the floor. “Okay. Sapling? If anyone else in the multiverse asked me that, I’d have already flayed them and used their skin as makeshift rope. I’m saying that cause I want you to understand how fucked up you made me that I’m even agreeing.” Dipper blinked as he translated the demonic speak into human. “So, yes?” “Sure! Heck, if you’re feeling top energy like that, I wanna see it fulfilled! The fact you’re stepping up from handcuffs in any direction is amazing progress.” “I know no one else is in the Shack but could you not shout that aloud?” Dipper cringed. “Fine, fine, whatever. So, we’re going to my place then?” Bill grinned and rubbed his hands. “Actually, um,” Dipper walked to the closet and pulled out an old yellow bag. From inside he pulled out the shibari book and lengths of hemp rope. He held them up with an embarrassed grin. Bill’s eye widened even more along with a smile. “Ohhh, you’ve REALLY thought about this!” With no more coaxing, he hopped from the desk chair onto the bed. “Alright! How do you want me? How much should I take off?” “Um, well, I just…can I just practice? I’ve just read about it and I want to do it right. I was thinking of just tying up your arms?” Bill looked a bit disappointed, but didn’t let his obvious enthusiasm flag. “Just tell me what to do.” Dipper had Bill sit cross legged on the bed, his arms behind him with the forearms parallel. Thankfully, Bill’s body was more than flexible enough to do so without discomfort. Dipper thought about, then banished, some of the more advanced shibari ties he’d seen online. He wasn’t going to rush this. He wanted to master this one thing and do it right. Dipper was slow, gentle, and restarted several times, but, at the end, he had Bill’s arms snuggly tied together with loops of rope that covered his forearms between elbow and wrist. Just like he imagined, even with Bill in his suit. Especially with Bill in his suit. The sight was. It felt something like he imagined Bill felt when he had Dipper pinned, whether it’s on the bed or over the counter. Plus, Dipper knew it wasn’t an actual restraint. Bill’s illusionary body was strong enough to easily snap the rope apart if he wanted free. Hell, if nothing else, he could burn it apart. The rope was only hemp. The thing truly restraining Bill was Bill for Dipper’s sake. He still hoped Bill wouldn’t . The rope was expensive. He should have just gone to the mindscape and not bought the actual rope, but he didn’t want to admit to ANYONE he’d first practiced on Mabel’s stuffed animals. Bill might actually mock him for that, and Mabel wouldn’t forgive him. Still, that strange feeling of control, of strength, of having actual power over Bill…it was weirdly intoxicating, as illusionary as it was. However, he knew how powerful illusions could be if you just believed in them. “Well, well, well,” He murmured, leaning against Bill’s back to whisper in his ear. “Looks like I caught the one and only Demon Cipher. Not so tough now, are you?” Bill started a moment, but it barely took a half second before he caught on and gave an evil smile, the sort he gave when they first met and Bill planned on cremating the human. “Please, what sort of demon hunter thinks he can keep me prisoner?” “What about the great nephew of Standford Pines?” Dipper asked, slinking to the front, a grin still on his face. Bill’s arms stayed pinned behind him, impossible to move without breaking the bonds. Dipper shivered, the usual feelings in this sort of sexual tension twisted in a new way. “I’ve learned everything he had to teach and more. And I plan to bend you into submission, Demon.” “You might have trapped me, but there’s nothing you can do to break me,” Bill bragged. “Nothing your feeble human brain could invent would hurt me enough to make me talk. If you think you’ve got a chance, then you can just suck my di-” Dipper grinned. Before Bill even finished the sentence, he pushed Bill down on the bed. He knew Bill allowed it, but that was only in his logical mind. In this moment, he focused more on pinning Bill’s torso down with one hand while freeing Bill's cock with the other, quickly diving down upon it. Dipper hummed and grinned at the sounds his “captive demon” made. He came up for air. “Maybe you’ve learned to fight against pain…but what about pleasure, Cipher?” He dove back down, using everything he’d learned from being with Bill to bring him to the edge, but no further before pulling back with a wet pop. “You’ll share your secrets with me, Cipher, and you’ll come. Otherwise, I guess we’ll see how long a demon can last with blue balls.” Bill’s pupil was so wide it neary encompassed his golden iris. “Ohhhh, you’ve definitely got an interesting interrogation tech-AH~” Dipper started again, bringing Bill close to the edge, backing off, and continuing the “interrogation” while Bill, of course, refused to talk. Bill was growing more and more frustrated, Dipper saw, and it made him feel wild, until he was grabbed and flipped around. Panicked for a moment, almost lost in his role, he realized Bill slipped his arms free of the bindings, but without breaking them. Thank goodness. They could save that level of theatrics for the Mindscape. Speaking of theatrics, a sweaty, red faced, and exceedingly aroused Bill now had him pinned. “Looks like the demon hunter’s become the demon prey,” He sneered. “Time to see how you deal with pleasure, Pines.” Dipper grinned. When it came to this sort of thing, it really was worth asking.

[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.

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