#then another he almost dropped a tooth down my throat and sent me into an asthma attack

[sarafinamk]

Sonic IDW Issue 56 Bad Ending

Summary: Surge claims she won't be free until Sonic is dead. Tails can't do anything but watch as it unfolds.

TW: Death, Electrocution, Strangulation, Murder, Attempted Murder

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"SONIC!"

He was right there.

He almost had him.

Even though Tails' eyes never leave Sonic, the distant flashing figure of Surge always remains within Tails' peripheral vision. The tenrec is just standing there, eyes glued on Sonic. It doesn't take a two-tailed genius to know that she's waiting for the first opportunity to strike. The ever-changing kaleidoscope of wisp energy and electricity flickering off of her sent the kit a very clear message. Tails needed to get Sonic out of the water now. It's not deep, so it'll be easier swooping his brother out. Surge, however, made it clear that she had other plans for the hedgehog. That message was made clear in the form of electric currents dancing in the water, pumping millions of volts into his system.

Tails pulls away on instinct. It could easily be written off as merely his astraphobia hindering him from saving the older hedgehog. The fox kit, however, knows that trying to touch his brother in this state is like touching a toaster in a bathtub filled with water. You don't touch it unless you have a death wish.

Much to his horror, he can't see anything that could get him close enough to his brother, let alone pull him out. Not without Surge's little lighting lake pulling him in as another victim.

He can't stop the source of the electric currents either because he has no way of defending himself from Surge. If he tries this time, she will target him instead. Sonic won't have enough time to get out of the water.

Tails had to do something. If only he'd stop shaking and staring at the flickering currents trapping his brother.

There had to be something he can do. If only he'd just snap out of it, and actually think of something.

Surge catches the hovering form of the blue rat's sidekick from the corner of her eye. He's not even trying to step in. He's just gawking at them uselessly. Without all those dumb gadgets, he can't do anything. The tenrec's pupils shrink with realization. This gives her the opening she needs to drive her message home.

To do what needs to be done.

She lunges at the convulsing blue hedgehog, screaming bloody murder.

"YOU DON'T GET IT! I was built to live in your shadow. It's in my blood, my bones, my BRAIN. There is no freedom for me..."

Her hands tighten around Sonic's throat, eliminating any chance he may have had left of getting air. The voltage invading the hedgehog's body kept him further restrained, allowing her to get a tighter grip on his windpipe without any pathetic attempts to fight back. Not that he can focus on that with his brain being fried. Her shark-toothed snarl is the only thing he can focus on as his vision dances to darkness.

"...NOT WHILE YOU'RE STILL ALIVE!"

The rainbow-like energy engulfing her body pulses with intensity thanks to the electricity flashing around her. However, Tails didn't shield his eyes from the energy's strong glare. He can't stop watching the scene unfold in front of him. The pounding in his chest urged him to dive down there and stop her. He know he had to, but something in his mind wouldn't let him. It kept him there in a helpless daze. His widened eyes match that of his older brother's.

The glass orbs in the dynamo cage glow a bright white before it suddenly shatters. With the glass no longer able to contain Surge's temporary power-ups, the five wisps emerge out. Their glow wasn't there, and their flight pattern was very wonky. To Tails' short-lived relief, however, none of them turned into nega wisps.

Surge stops sparking. The energy field around her dissipates. Her grip around Sonic's throat loosens. Her body drops face first into the water right next to Sonic. One of her hands lays close to his throat.

The wisps circle around the limp duo like a dim halo. Tails, snapping out of his trance, rushes over to his brother's aid.

"Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh--"

He lands next to the two fallen figures, stumbling onto his knees. His hyperventilating only made his coordination worse. He hastily pulls Surge off his brother, rolling her over onto her back. Before Tails can check for a pulse, he catches her chest rising and falling. He can only hope she didn't inhale too much water. Once he put Surge in a position where she wouldn't be able to inhale any more water, he scrambles over to Sonic's side.

The fox kit's heart plummets deep into the pit of his stomach. Sonic is decorated with bright red burns growing and branching out all across his skin like roots. The burns and fingerprints wrap around his neck in the sickeningly brightest shades of red. His mouth remains slightly agape. His muzzle has grown several shades paler with dull green eyes to complement it. His gaze never leaves the flickering white ceiling lights above.

"...Sonic...?"

Tails tries so hard to ignore the way his voice comes out barely above a whisper. The wisps surround them, getting a good look at their beloved blue hero, battered, burned and beaten black and blue. They look at Tails with doubt as one or two try to communicate something in their language. The fox knows what they're trying to tell him, but he knows better. Sonic will wake up, make some commentary about how that was shocking or gnarly or something, get up and get back into the fight. And all this will be done with a smile on his face.

It got harder to ignore the nausea bubbling in his stomach the longer the hedgehog's chest remains still. He's going to wake up. He has to wake up. He's done this so many times before. His brother has to be pulling a sick prank on him at this point if he's taking this long.

Tails calls out his name a few more times, each time getting louder and more desperate. He continues shaking his brother awake, begging him to wake up, His voice cracks more with each ignored plea. Not even his tears are doing anything to make his big brother answer him.

He places two fingers against Sonic's reddened neck, and all he felt is the skin losing its warmth.

No...

No, no, no!

There had to be a pulse. It's the adrenaline rushing at Tails' cold fingertips playing tricks. The pulse is just faint, that's all.

He did the only thing he could think of at this point: shake his brother awake with more force until the trembling of his voice made it impossible to get one more plead out. The boy threw himself at his brother's corpse, muffling his cries by pressing his face against his chest. The wisps circle around the sobbing kit clutching onto his big brother for dear life. There's nothing they can do but listen to Tails repeating Sonic's name over and over as if that will bring him back.

"Finally! Collect the dynamo cage and the tenrec!"

The unwanted sound of Eggman's voice commanding Metal Sonic breaks the kit out of his distress. Tails wanted to tell him off, to tell that cheater that this wasn't part of the deal. But the heavy lump in his throat wouldn't let him get any words out without the risk of breaking down again.

Fury burns in his lungs looking at the unconscious tenrec next to him. He doesn't see why he should even bother protecting Surge at this point. His brother's dead because of her.

No!

He promised Kit that he and Sonic would help them. Sonic would want to protect her from the doctor's clutches no matter what. Despite his fury burning hot, he inches closer to the unconscious tenrec. His body only partially hid her as he's adamant of keeping Sonic secure in his arms. He doesn't know how he's supposed to defend them and the wisps by himself. All he knows is that he'll do what he can to protect them.

Metal Sonic lunges at the group, only for a rush of water to rise up and slam the robot away. Tails looks up at a specific set of test tubes with a relieved, knowing look. Kit, no longer hiding between the tubes, hops down behind Dr. Eggman. Water tendrils slither around the fennec as he takes a few steps forward. His glowing magenta eyes are void of any emotion.

Eggman swivels in the boy's direction. He gets into a defensive position, but doesn't budge from his place.

"Stay out of this, you waterlogged whelp!"

Kit responds by merely lifting his hand up. Water tendrils sprout upon command. They proceed to coil around the doctor who can't help but yelp in surprise. Metal wasn't able to reach his creator before another set of tendrils wrap around his figure.

"What do you think you're doing? Unhand me, you little-- GRRK!"

The tendril squeezed the wind out of a raging Eggman before he could get another word out.

Water tendrils wrap around Tails who lets out a surprised yelp as he is abruptly snatched from his spot. He tries reaching out to Sonic only for his hands to be pulled away by the water around his wrist. He squirms in desperation when he feels his restraints coiling tightly around him. He tries to spin his namesakes, but to no avail.

"Kit!"

The water-bending fennec only acknowledges Sonic's sidekick with a passing glance in his direction. Tails can't pinpoint any sign of anger, disgust, or even sadness on the fennec's face. All that can be seen behind Kit's bangs is a pair of glowing magenta irises staring blankly at him. The water around him was rippling with rage, but everything in his body language is calm.

Menacingly calm.

"I know what's going on here. I've seen it before. Starline. Eggman. YOU. You're all the same. You don't need me or Surge. You WANT us. All that matters is what we can do, how you can change us. So you can prove that YOUR way is RIGHT. Surge killed Sonic just like she wanted. Now she can move on. And you don't have a purpose anymore. I'm going where I'm needed, and that's with Surge."

Everything that came out of Kit's mouth was spoken matter-of-factly. It leaves Tails with a chilling realization. They were never planning on calling it a truce with them. This was their plan all along, and they fell right into their trap.

With one set of tendrils, he brings Surge closer to him. With a flick of his hand, he sends another set to work on tearing apart the room piece by piece. The fennec watches the chaos unfold around him with a small unsettling smile. Every broken chunk of glass, concrete, and metal surrounding him left him with a startling sense of serenity. He wouldn't leave without delivering one final message to his enemies.

"I'll bury you all here along with our past."

Now that the water tendrils are no longer tampering with the room, everything began cascading down. Kit hovers out of the broken glass ceiling with Surge in his arms.

The water releases its grip on Tails. He scrambles to his feet, trying to maintain his footing. He panics upon realizing the wisps aren't with him. He tries to spot for any signs but only sees grey from the concrete and dust. From a distance, Tails catches Metal Sonic pushing Eggman up a slope. He had to give it to the man. He can run fast when his life depended on it.

"Such melodramatic histrionics... Faster, Metal!"

Tails turns around to find a familiar unconscious blue figure close by. Without thinking, he runs to Sonic. He can't leave his big brother like this.

But Sonic isn't waking up this time...

It hit him as he watches metal, glass, and concrete rain down on Sonic. There won't be any more jokes. No more quips, laughs, or reassurances that he was okay. Any hope left in the kit's chest is replaced with the suffocating truth.

Why did Tails think this time would be like all the other times?

At the other end of the room, Tails spots the five wisps. They're barely avoiding the raining debris while trying to stay together. Tail's mind screamed to go to them, but he feet refuse to cooperate. Everything moved slowly as he feels himself being overtaken by a whirlwind of thoughts.

If he leaves now, he'll be all alone again.

He doesn't want that life again.

He got so used to Sonic always being there with him, he can't imagine him ever leaving.

Maybe Tails doesn't have to be alone.

If he stays...

A roaring rumble from below snaps him out of his thoughts. The room is not going to hold for much longer. To his surprise, the wisps stayed in place. They're all giving him urgent looks. They want to get out of here now, but not without Tails...

He needed to get to the wisps and leave.

Now.

Whisper is waiting for them, and Belle is going to worry if no one returns soon.

With a heavy sigh and repressed tears, he flies over to the wisps, leaving Sonic to get buried in his new grave.

"Let's get out of here!"

The wisps cling onto Tails as he flies them through the raining debris. Even with five wisps on him, he has an easier time maneuvering past the raining rubble. That is until a fairly large chunk of concrete takes him by surprise and knocks him unconscious. The wisps wrap their tentacles around one part of the unconscious fox. Since they had no power to spare the fox, the wisps have to resort to being the ones to fly him out the old-school way. Even with five of them, they are straining themselves past their limit. They barely manage to dodge pieces of the ceiling.

A dark opening comes on sight. Getting a sudden burst of energy, they hightail it past the last bits of the rubble. They make sure to drop the fox kit gently before doing so themselves. The rumbling below overwhelms their senses for a moment before everything goes silent.

Right on cue, Tails groggily opens his eyes. He is greeted by a pounding in his head and the familiar silhouettes of five dimly colored wisps hovering around him, warbling their worries to the fox. He is exhausted in every way possible. All he wants right now is to go back to sleep and pretend this was just a nightmare. He'll wake up, and Sonic will be there like he should.

He slowly pulls himself up into a sitting position with the wisps' help. Every part of the kit is still shaky, including his breaths. He can't tell if it's nerves or the chill prickling his damp fur. Not that it makes much of a difference. He can't feel his legs, which doesn't bother him. He's not ready to stand up yet. It's taking all his energy just to stay sitting up. The wisps seem to be fine with that as some have clung onto him.

With his head in his arms, he bathes in the cold, dark, silence. Not even his soaked namesakes wrapped protectively around him can provide him warmth. That doesn't bother him. There's nothing and no one here left to bother him. No Eggman-

Come to think of it, Eggman and Metal Sonic got a head start in escaping and yet he's nowhere to be found. Tails hasn't seen hide, nor hair, nor metal. With Eggman, it would be impossible not to hear him. Could it be that they also...?

"Blah!"

Nevermind...

"Well, THAT was a waste of time..."

Eggman kicks away a large chunk of debris on top of him. Metal Sonic crawls out of the junk pile after his creator. Water drips off of both of them from head to toe. Metal is more or less indifferent to it, like usual. The doctor, on the other hand, is looking at his drenched lab coat sleeves with disdain.

"Metal, call ahead to the Eggperial City. I want a transport, a snack, and HOT BATH waiting for me when we get home. I have some important sulking to d-- Oh."

Eggman takes notice of the lone fox kit sitting with those meddling wisps, but no Sonic to be seen. Granted, he did see the whole pitiful display, including the damage done to the blue rodent. Under any other circumstances, the doctor knew they were as good as gone. But this is Sonic we're talking about here. He's cheated death an ungodly amount of times. If he's managed to survive having dark gaia energy in him or Infinite's illusions for half a year, then he very well could walk this off. Only this time the hedgehog actually bit off more than he can chew. And the worst part...

Eggman wasn't the one that succeeded in defeating that hedgehog.

"That duck-billed buffoon actually did it. He created an adversary that destroyed Sonic once and for all."

"And whose fault is that?"

Eggman scoffs.

"Don't give me that, now. I'm not the one who couldn't leave well enough alone! Starline should've known better than to think he can outdo me. I told him that I knew what I was doing, but no, he wouldn't listen."

"But YOU were the one who threw him out."

"That was perfectly well within reason!"

A switch went off in Tails' head.

"Reason?! You're the reason he created Surge and Kit! If you didn't throw him out, he wouldn't have found them. If you had just given him some recognition, he wouldn't have done all... THIS!"

"I made it very clear that I will not compromise my principles just for some kiss-up that didn't know his place. It's not my fault he couldn't get that through his head."

Tails looks at the man with disgust.

"What would YOU know about principles?"

"More than Sonic, it seems."

That got Tails to shut up real quick. Eggman took this as a sign to keep going.

"Everyone knows his principles revolve around freedom. What does he say? 'Freedom to go about his own way?' 'Live life the way you choose?' 'Free as the wind,' or something like that? Blech! Anyways, we all know how well that worked for him."

"Shut. Up-"

"Sonic ACTUALLY believed it would be a good idea to preach to Starline's little maniacs, of all people, about freedom, even when he knew they were conditioned to kill him. The idiot just wouldn't let it go. Both of us may refuse to compromise our principles, but that's the difference between us. My principles have kept me alive. His principles are the very reason he's gone."

"SHUT UP!"

Tails' chest tightens with every heave. His glaring blue eyes burn with more unshed tears. His lips drew back in a snarl, which only protruded the growing lump in his throat. Sonic's lifeless body flashes in the kit's mind.

'And you don't have a purpose anymore.'

This causes the kit to try growl, only for a whimper to come out of him instead. A whimper turns into a few choked sobs which unfurls into full-on sobbing.

Unable to spare the doctor another glance, he curls up into a little ball. The wisps are quick to come to Tails' side. They wrap their tentacles around the kit's trembling form, while warbling their condolences. Eggman and Metal leave the fox kit alone with the wisps, seeing as there is no point in reasoning with him in this state.

Kit's words repeat in his head like a broken cassette tape. The image of Sonic's glassy eyes won't go away. It makes him grit his teeth harder. The noise from the kit's throat came out as a mix between a growl and a scream, which worsened the pounding in his head. But he wants it to hurt. Maybe then the image of Sonic's lifeless eyes and the echoes of Kit's taunts will leave his head. It'll serve him right for being useless when Sonic needed him the most.

He just got Sonic back after six months of thinking he was dead. He swore that he'd be better, that he'd DO better. He wouldn't be a burden anymore. He wasn't going to run away or stand on the sidelines like with Infinite and every other crisis. He was going to be the little brother and sidekick Sonic needed. One that Sonic deserved. One that he can depend on.

But that's never going to happen.

Sonic's not coming back this time, and it's all his fault.

He almost had him, and he was right there.

[crazywolf828]

Oh. Oh goodie this is going to be great :)

[soft--dragon]

Tail Troubles

This is based around a headcannon I discussed with some friends on discord! Finally got around to doing it ^^ Hope you enjoy <3

Word Count: 4,825

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

The life of a hybrid wasn’t easy. It had its ups and downs, instincts to follow, mannerisms to learn and upkeep. For Philza, it was preening his wings and keeping his feathers clean and straight. Techno, being part pig, meant he had to cut his hooves back a bit to prevent overgrowth. Wilbur, being Phil’s son, needed to preen his wings as well, the luscious feathers didn’t stay perfect without his help. Tommy was a raccoon hybrid, and with having a fluffy tail, one would think the boy would keep it brushed and in peak condition, not wanting to let the fur get dirty and matted.

Nope.

Tommy refused to touch his tail for reasons unbeknownst to the rest of the family. They used to do it for him when he was young but he grew up independent and didn't let them touch it past age five.

Any time Tommy brushed his hair, Phil would innocently ask him to do his tail at the same time and Tommy would just about throw the damn hairbrush across the room. Wilbur had offered to brush it for him but Tommy hissed at him and wouldn’t be in the same room as his brother for a whole day. Techno made one comment on the dirt stuck in the fur and Tommy flushed with a growl that really wasn’t that intimidating.

It was when Tommy once came home from hanging out with Tubbo and Ranboo, his tail thick with leaves, sticks, flowers and residue water, that Phil put his foot down.

Tommy was changing into more comfortable clothes in his room when he heard his dad call through the house.

“Tommy! Come here please!”

The request made the boy’s ears flick up with a confused noise. It wasn’t his night to help with cooking...was it? He’d done his chores before leaving the house to hang out with his friends, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Or at least he thinks he didn’t. Shrugging he pokes his tail through the back of his hoodie and hops down the staircase to the lounge. He poked his head through to the living room, his bright eyes on the man who was sitting on the couch. “Yeah Dad?”

Phil’s eyes were on his tail, a mix of concerned and mildly hidden dismay. “Your tail” Phil stated, “Tommy, this has got to stop, your fur is a mess.”

Tommy’s ears immediately flattened to his head with an indignant huff. “It’s fine Dad” he grumbled, very much aware that it wasn’t, but he refused to let himself care.

“It really isn't” Phil disagreed firmly.

“It’s my tail, let me look after it how I want to” Tommy growled, crossing his arms tightly.

Phil gave him an unimpressed look. “Tommy.”

Uh oh. The Dad Voice was out. Tommy refused to crumble though, squaring his shoulders and glaring at his father defiantly. “I’m not brushing my tail.”

Phil raised a singular eyebrow. “You really want to do this Toms?”

Tommy's tail subconsciously flicked nervously, ears starting to fold back without his permission. He put on a brave face and shook his head. “I’m not brushing it” he stated again.

Phil sighed, pinching the skin between his eyes. “Wil?”

Arms wrapped around Tommy’s middle and hoisted him into the air, the boy screeching in alarm and gripping onto the sturdy limbs holding him captive. “FUCK! WHAT?!” He swung his head around to see Wilbur’s wide grin, fangs bared and all.

“Where do you want him?” He asked Phil, re-adjusting his grip when Tommy started fighting tooth and nail for freedom.

Phil jabbed his thumb to the couch with a small smile. “Keep him there for now, I need to go grab a brush.”

Tommy squeaked at Phil’s words, scrabbling at Wilbur’s unrelenting hold. “Nononono! No this is against my rights! I’ll call the police! I swear to god I will!”

“And I call bullshit” Wilbur snorted, carrying Tommy to the couch and dropping him onto it before promptly sitting on his younger brother.

“Wilbur! Get the fuck off me!” Tommy shrieked, throwing his arms back in hopes of hitting Wilbur but only getting his wrists held in a gentle, but firm grip.

“Settle you feral gremlin” he chuckled. “We’re just brushing your tail, no need to go apeshit.”

“I don’t want you to! Let me up!”

“No.”

There was a sudden series of distressed chitters making Wilbur look down at his younger brother in surprise.

“Wilbur, please” Tommy begged, his ears pinned back to his blonde hair, his shoulders drawn up close.

Wilbur's eyes widened at the desperate, genuine plea. Tommy was staring up at him with wide blue eyes, his face pinched in an odd mix of nerves and fear, his tail tucked protectively against his side. Wilbur immediately recognized the defensive action and let go of his wrists, sliding off the couch to kneel beside Tommy. The boy immediately curled into a ball, his tail covering his face and his hands gripping the fluffy thing tightly.

“Toms?”

Tommy shook his head, a soft whine pulling from his throat, refusing to look at Wilbur. He stared, confused and worried in stunned silence. He barely heard Phil return but quickly pressed a finger to his lips when Phil began to speak. He held his father’s gaze for a moment, flicking his eyes between Tommy and his dad. Phil gave a slow nod, putting the brush on the table and sitting on the couch, close, but not touching his youngest son.

“Toms?” He asked softly. “What’s wrong?”

Tommy’s ears pricked at his father’s voice but quickly dipped again. He clenched his tail in his hands, the dirty appendage dropping little bits of the forest into the cushions. Phil couldn’t care less though, his boy was upset and cleaning could wait.

Wilbur hesitantly reached out brushing his fingertips over the tops of Tommy’s ears, pleased when they immediately perked at the feeling. “What’s going on sunshine?” Wilbur murmured softly, gently stroking the fluffy things.

The tip of Tommy’s tail wagged from the gentle motions and he made a low sound. “You’d think it’s dumb…” Tommy’s voice whispered from behind his tail.

“Never” Phil rested a hand on Tommy’s leg, rubbing his calf gently in a reassuring way. “Nothing you feel is invalid Toms, we’re listening.”

He briefly caught a glimpse of Tommy’s bright eyes glancing at him before being hidden behind his tail again. It was quiet for a moment before his voice muttered, “I...I don’t…” Tommy sighed, letting go of his tail to press his fists into his eyes. “It hurts…”

Wilbur glanced at Phil then gently rubbed the edge of Tommy’s ear, smiling a little at the quiet chitter he got in response. “Your tail?” He asked softly.

Tommy nodded. “I left it too long...it got matted…”

Phil hummed in understanding, “And now it hurts to brush?”

Tommy nodded again, leaning into Wilbur’s hand. “I didn’t want to bother you guys...I try to do things on my own because I’m getting older but…”

Phil gave a low, comforting sound. “It’s okay to ask for help Tommy, especially with your hybrid traits, we’re family yeah? We’re meant to help each other.”

Tommy lifted his head a little to look at his dad, a wary look in his eyes but it was quickly dashed at the reassuring smile sent his way. He uncurled himself, now fully pressing his head into Wilbur’s hand, chittering softly at the soft scratching around the base. He let himself melt into the affection before glancing at his brother and sighed. “We still gotta brush it huh?”

Wilbur nodded, cupping his cheek and stroking his thumb over his cheek gently. “Yeah, gonna have to sunshine.”

Tommy smiled at the nickname but his eyes had dropped to the carpet. “Okay…”

“Hey,” Wilbur gently tilted his head up to meet his gaze. “You want me to hug you as Phil brushes it? Would that help?”

Tommy bit his lip, his tiny fangs just sticking out from the action. After a moment of consideration he nodded, stretching his arms out to his older brother. Wilbur immediately scooped him up, holding him close as he sat cross legged on the couch, Tommy pressed close and wrapped around him.

Phil shuffled a little closer. “I’ll just clean out the sticks and leaves, okay Toms?” He said gently.

Tommy nodded, head over Wilbur’s shoulder and holding the back of his soft yellow jumper. Wilbur felt the tightness of the grip and gently rubbed his ear again.

“He’ll be careful Toms,” he promised, “he’s not gonna hurt you.”

Tommy buried his face into his shoulder with another small nod, biting back a nervous whine as he felt Phil’s hands gently hold his tail to keep it still, picking at the mess within the fur. It was unbearably quiet as Phil worked, Wilbur’s hug only helping his anxiety somewhat.

“Wilby?” Tommy murmured.

“Yeah sunshine?”

Tommy hugged his older brother shyly, the nickname always made him soft. “Could...could you sing please?”

Wilbur smiled, kissing the side of his head fondly. “Of course.”

Wilbur’s warm, velvety voice made Tommy melt further into him, eyes slipping closed and content to just listen to the comforting tones, and soon enough, purrs started to emit from his throat. Wilbur gently rubbed over Tommy’s back, trying to help relax his little brother as much as possible. He had once left his wings for too long and had to get Phil to help preen the feathers, the pain was tolerable, he couldn’t imagine how bad having matted fur would be. It seemed his singing was doing enough as it was though, Tommy had relaxed into him, his head resting against his brothers and letting out a stream of gentle purring.

After a few minutes of Wilbur’s quiet singing and Phil gently removing bits from his tail, Tommy was almost asleep, he hadn’t let anyone touch his tail in a long time, he had almost forgotten the other reason why...

“Toms?” Phil murmured suddenly.

Tommy let out a small grumble, shaky with his rumbles, not lifting his head from Wilbur’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna start brushing your tail okay?”

Tommy’s purrs cut out immediately, his whole body tensing up in Wilbur’s arms and Wilbur cooed sympathetically. “It’ll be okay Tommy, he won’t hurt you.”

Tommy knew that, of course he knew that, but he still pressed his face into the crook of Wilbur’s neck and the man was surprised at how warm the kid’s face felt. “You good?”

Tommy nodded but refused to make a sound. Wilbur shared a worried look with Phil and mouthed “Be gentle.”

Phil made a soft noise of agreement, picking up the brush and resting it on the base of Tommy’s tail. The boy flinched, shoulders jumping up to his ears and letting out a small gasp.

“It’s okay Toms,” Wilbur promised, carding a hand through his hair and nudging his head gently. “It’s okay.”

Phil had softened his brushing so it just went through the top fur, easily untangling any small tufts that had stuck together. He kept a rhythmic pattern, going from the base to halfway, leaving the end of the fluffy appendage for later as it was the most knotted. He kept a gentle hold on the boy’s tail, even when it started twitching from the brushing.

He was jolted from carefully watching Tommy’s tail when he heard a muffled sound, glancing up to where Tommy’s shoulders were bouncing and his face was pressed firmly into Wilbur’s shoulder. Wilbur’s eyes were locked to his baby brother, he looked stricken and wild with worry.

“Dad- Dad stop, I think he’s crying” Wilbur quickly smacked away the brush, his wings fluffing up protectively around Tommy.

Phil immediately ceased, dropping the brush and worriedly watching as Wilbur tried to coax Tommy to look at him.

“Tommy, sunshine, hey, can you look at me, Toms?” Wilbur gently slid his hand underneath Tommy’s jaw, gently tilting his head up to catch his gaze.

To his surprise, Tommy had a wide smile on his face and a pink tinge dusted his cheeks and nose, his eyes were shy and nervous, his gaze flicking from Wilbur to the couch.

“Tommy?” Wilbur murmured in confusion. “Wha- you’re smiling? I thought you were in pain…?”

Tommy would’ve hidden his face back into Wilbur’s shoulder had his brother not been holding his cheek, keeping him still. He brought a hand from clutching Wilbur’s sweater to bring it up to his warm face, covering his eyes with a small, shaky sigh. “I-I’m...it’s fine…” he muttered quietly.

“Fine-? Tommy it sounded like you were crying-”

“I said it’s fine Wil” Tommy’s tail unintentionally lashed on instinct, managing to drag over the brush still sitting on the cushions. He squeaked loudly, bringing his tail close to himself faster than you could blink, holding it firmly in his hands. It was eerily silent for a few moments before Phil chuckled softly.

“Ah, now I remember.”

Tommy’s ears pricked up at the tone, biting his lip to stop any more noises from coming out. Wilbur tilted his head to Phil with a raised brow, still holding Tommy protectively. Phil’s eyes were fond and gentle, a familiar twinkle behind the green irises.

"You've got a ticklish tail Toms, you always have, it slipped my mind."

Tommy immediately pressed his face into Wilbur's shoulder, muffled noises slipping out as he tried to protest. Wilbur let out a gasp, eyes lighting up in realization as he hugged Tommy close.

"Oh my gosh, is that why you never let us brush it again when you were younger? Your tail was too ticklish?"

Tommy smacked Wilbur's back and growled but it was whiny and not at all angry. Wilbur awed loudly, gently ruffling his hair and squeezing him tightly.

“You’re actually the worst, piss off, die-” Tommy grumbled, his voice muffled.

If anything, Wilbur only softened more at his ramblings. “Awww bubs, you’re like an angry kitten-!"

Tommy whined loudly. “Daaaaad! Will’s bullying meeeee!”

Phil laughed, stretching his wing around to lightly hit the side of Wilbur’s head, “Ease up Songbird, you’re gonna make him combust.”

Wilbur grinned but stopped messing up Tommy’s hair to simply rest his hand in the golden curls. Tommy was still grumbling under his breath but he was relaxing into the touch, never being able to stay mad at his big brother for long. Phil smiled at his youngest then reached a wing over again to Tommy, resting it on his back to gain his attention.

“Toms, can I continue?” Phil asked softly. “We can take breaks in between if it gets a little much.”

Tommy turned his head marginally to look at his father then pressed his face further into Wilbur to hide, his ears pressed to his head in embarrassment as he gave a shy nod. Phil drew his wing back, allowing Wilbur to return rubbing his shoulders and spine soothingly. Phil gently took Tommy's tail back into his hands, huffing a small laugh at the squeak Tommy gave at his touch.

“Tommy,” Phil said, picking up the brush, “if you need a break say red, m’kay?”

Tommy giggled quietly and nodded again, gripping onto Wilbur’s jersey. Wilbur cooed fondly, kissing the side of his head again and smiling at Phil. The blonde returned it, settling the brush back on Tommy’s tail and combing the bristles through it. Tommy didn’t even last a second before breaking into a fit of breathy giggles.

“Awwww!”

Tommy’s cheeks flushed pink at his brother’s coo. “Shuhush!”

Wilbur only cooed more, "I can't believe I forgot about this, your laughter was so cute whenever we brushed it!"

Tommy would've shot back a snarky remark, but it was caught in his throat as a new bout of giggles escaped him. His shoulders bounced in his mirth as he squirmed in hopes of relieving the sensations, but the constant brushing on his tail remained undeterred.

“Ticklish little raccoon aren’t cha?” Wilbur giggled, wiggling his nails against Tommy’s neck making the boy squeak and arch away, showing his wide smile and pink tinged face. “Ah there’s my favourite, giggly gremlin~”

“Wil” Phil chuckled, giving him a look but the smile on his face told the brunette he didn’t mind his antics too much. He lifted the tail to brush on the underside of it, grinning at the squeal Tommy gave as he squirmed into Wilbur’s chest, shaking his head in his new fits of laughter.

“Ohoho gohohod” he squeaked, clenching Wilbur’s jumper.

“Awwww” Wilbur cooed, “does it tickle Toms? You’re giggling a bit so I think it might~”

“Shuhuhut uhup Wihihil!” Tommy smacked his back lightly, muffling his frantic giggling in his shoulder again. “Yohohou’re suhuch aha dihick!”

Wilbur chuckled before blowing a small raspberry into his neck, giggling at the squeal Tommy gave.

“Wilbur” Phil said again, chuckling at Tommy’s reactions.

“Yeah?” Wilbur grinned.

“He’s probably getting tickled enough with me brushing his tail.”

“He can take a little more” Wilbur snickered, “he has tickle fights with me and Techno constantly, he's got stamina.”

Phil snorted. “Can’t argue with that.” He brushed close to base and Tommy squeezed Wilbur with a short shriek, hugging his brother tightly as his laughter picked up.

Wilbur cooed, rubbing Tommy’s back gently as he noticed the sudden change in laughter. “You’re doing well Gigglechamp, it shouldn’t take too long, it's not very tangled here.”

Wilbur was right, the base of his tail was one of the few places that wasn’t too mussed up, it was still however, ticklish as fuck. Tommy kicked the couch cushions frantically before pressing his legs close to Wilbur’s back, clenching his jumper as he tried to bear the sensations. His laughter kept bouncing between hysterical giggles and squeaky hiccups, a constant stream of adorable sounds in Phil and Wilbur’s humble opinions.

“Dahahad” Tommy whined after another minute of brushing over the unbearably ticklish area.

“Yep, done Toms” Phil took the brush away, stroking over the now smooth fur, smiling at the squeak Tommy gave.

“Good job sunshine” Wilbur kissed his temple and ruffled his hair, “you did really well.”

Tommy sighed through his lingering titters, wiping at his eyes with his fist to get rid of the mirthful tears budding at the edges. “Thihis suhucks” he giggled.

“Oh sure, that’s why you’re not telling us to stop every five seconds” Wilbur smirked.

Tommy gave a flustered grumble, elbowing Wilbur lightly and making the other two chuckle.

“Ready for round two?” Phil asked.

Tommy gave a giggly groan but nodded, re-adjusting his hold on Wilbur and burying his face again. Wilbur nudged his head against Tommy’s and nodded to Phil who smiled back at his son.

The process continued, Phil combed through his tail again and again, keeping Tommy in a state of giggly hysteria. His laughter was a mix of squeals, squeaks, hiccups, and snorts as the brush ran over his tail in a smooth stroking pattern. Just when he thought he was getting used to a spot, Phil would shift the brush somewhere else and the process would begin anew. After almost three minutes of brushing, Tommy was just about at his limit. He held out for as long as he could, but the second the brush combed over the especially sensitive underside of his tail he had to call uncle.

“Rehehed dahahahad!” Tommy hiccupped, his bubbly giggles squeaking in his mirth and hands clinging to Wilbur’s jumper.

Phil ceased the brushing, running his fingers through the newly brushed fur and humming in satisfaction as he didn’t feel any knots, only soft fluff. “We’re almost there” he promised. “Just a little longer, okay Toms?”

Tommy whined a little but his eyes were dancing with excited anticipation. “F-Fihihine, j-juhuhust lehemme tuhurn rohound.”

He shifted from being wrapped around Wilbur to curl up in his lap, tucking his head underneath his brother’s chin and letting his purring restart, using it to calm himself down and show he was comfortable. Wilbur pursed his lips, staring at the ceiling and blinking rapidly much to Phil’s amusement. The brunette was wrapped around Tommy’s finger.

They let Tommy calm down for another minute or two before Phil spun the brush between his fingers. “Good to continue?”

The boy smiled, tucked against Wilbur’s chest and purring softly as he nodded. Wilbur’s eyes watched him fondly, having to bite his lip to stop squealing in adoration. Phil rolled his eyes fondly and picked up Tommy’s tail again, moving down to the end of the fluffy appendage to where the most tufts of fur were. He tried to be as gentle as possible but Tommy still flinched at the first pull on the fur.

“Is it okay?” Phil asked, pausing to let his son answer.

“Kinda hurts” Tommy mumbled, eyebrows pinching slightly as he grimaced. “Knots ‘n shit innit?”

Wilbur watched worriedly as Phil tried to brush away the tangles as gently as possible, but Tommy still winced every time it went through his fur. It was when Tommy let out an involuntary whimper that Wilbur smacked away the brush and fluffed his wings a little.

“Dad, this is hurting him” he held Tommy close and gazed imploringly at Phil, “surely that’s enough?”

Phil shook his head. “If we leave it, the fur will only get matted further Wil.”

Wilbur grit his teeth in displeasure. He hated hearing his baby brother in pain, but he also didn’t like the idea of his tail getting worse. He huffed, taking up one of Tommy’s hands and brushing his thumb over it in thought. It was quiet for a moment then Tommy gave a soft squeak.

Wilbur glanced down at Tommy and was surprised to see him curling in on himself, a shy smile on his face and ears tinged pink. “Toms?”

Tommy giggled a little, and Wilbur then noticed his thumb had slipped to trace the edge of the pad on his index finger.

“Ticklish hands Tommy?”

Tommy squeaked again, hiding his face in Wilbur’s jumper as he giggled quietly. Wilbur gently turned over his hands and started tracing the beans on his fingers, smiling as Tommy broke into breathy titters, sinking into his chest and closing his eyes.

“That feel okay?” Wilbur asked.

Tommy nodded with a sweet giggle as Wilbur wiggled his nails over his palm briefly. Phil smiled, watching the scene before him for a moment then slowly picked up the brush again, taking Tommy’s tail and moving back to the fur at the end. Tommy’s eyes fluttered open at the contact but his attention was quickly switched back to Wilbur at the small raspberry placed on the pad of his palm. He gave a hiccupy giggle, attempting to draw his hand back but Wilbur kept it there, blowing another.

“W-Wihil!” Tommy squealed, his attention fully on his older brother as he scratched his nails gently into the beans on his fingers.

“Mhm?” Wilbur hummed.

“T-That- ihihit tihickles!”

Wilbur chuckled. “Good! That’s what I was hoping for. Also Toms, you’ve taken good care of your pads, they’re nice and clean, very soft too, ” Wilbur skittered his nails quickly down his hands with a giggle of his own. “Feel all velvety, I could tickle them forever.”

“N-Nohoho Wihil!”

Tommy shrunk down on instinct, giggling squeakily at the soft fluttery sensations on his beans, his tail wagging happily. Phil gave an endeared huff, the movement making his job somewhat difficult but it seemed Wilbur was distracting Tommy enough to not focus on the slight tugs on his tail from the brush. Wilbur kept up the tickling until Phil’s brush went through Tommy’s tail without any bumps or tangles dragging it back. He settled back to softly tracing the pads, singing quietly again to help soothe Tommy. The boy sunk into him, letting Wilbur hold his hands and giggling from the brushing.

For a few, sweet minutes, it was simply Wilbur softly scratching over Tommy’s beans, singing quietly as Phil gently combed through his tail. Tommy was practically dead weight in Wilbur’s arms and a permanent smile on his face. The scene was endearing domestic, a perfect scene of trust between the hybrids.

“Okay, all done” Phil hummed, brushing through the end of the fluffy tail one last time before putting the comb down and patting the soft, clean fur gently.

Tommy was curled in Wilbur’s arms, a warm smile on his face and small giggles slipped through his lips as he calmed down. Wilbur had taken to rubbing the base of his ears, cheek resting against his golden curls.

“You did so good bubs” Wilbur praised, “I’m proud of you.”

Tommy chittered softly, snuggling closer to Wilbur and letting his eyes flutter closed. “That...wasn’t too bad.”

His watching family members shared an adoring smile at his admittance, Phil gently brushing his fingers through his tail’s fur.

“Think you’ll let us help you in future then? Or take better care of your fur by yourself?”

Tommy hummed in thought, the end of his tail flicking. “Maybe.”

“We could just tickle you for real if you don’t” Wilbur chuckled, his laughter only doubling at the flustered noise Tommy made.

Phil snickered, letting go of Tommy’s tail and stood. “Keep in mind Wil, Tommy does have a built-in tickle tool.”

Wilbur smirked, ruffling his sleek wings. “Yeah? Well, so do I.”

Phil snorted, rolling his eyes as Tommy glanced up at his big brother in nervous anticipation. “Not today though, let Tommy rest okay? He’s earned it.”

Wilbur nodded with an agreeing hum, using his wings to wrap around his younger brother, the boy squeaking a little when a few stray feathers brushed his cheek and ear for a moment. Wilbur sat back on the couch, protectively shielding Tommy from anything and everything that could disrupt his needed nap. Phil left them to sleep, heading to the kitchen to remove the stray fur clinging to the brush.

The door suddenly opened for Kristen and Techno to walk in, grins on their faces and an excited look dancing in their eyes. Phil quickly put a finger to his lips when Techno went to speak, nodding to the lounge.

“The other two are napping, what’s up?” He asked quietly when they seemed to get the message.

“We got so many potatos Pops! We’re gonna be feasting for days!” Techno whisper yelled, a wide grin on his face.

“Yeah?” Phil leaned on the island as Techno jumped up onto a bar stool excitedly. “Fight any big bad mobs along the way?”

“Yep, he kicked their asses like a champ” Kristen chuckled, kissing Phil’s temple and wrapping an arm around his waist. “Techno’s gonna be one of the best fighters around.”

Techno’s ears perked at the praise, a shy grin on his face as his cheeks tinged pinker than normal. Kristen smiled at Phil then noticed the brush on the counter.

“Did you manage to convince Tommy to brush his tail?” She asked in surprise.

“Well, it was a combined effort of myself and Wilbur,” Phil chuckled, “Tommy’s tail is as ticklish as it was when he was a toddler.”

Kristen coo was a high whisper and Techno snorted fondly. “I’m almost sad I missed it” Kristen giggled.

“Well he said he’s okay with us helping him in the future, so you may get your chance to experience it yourself” Phil butted his forehead against her own.

Kristen gave an excited gasp. “Really? He hasn’t let me since he was young!”

Phil chuckled again. “He hasn’t changed at all since then.”

Techno grinned. “Oh, he’s going down next time he dares to tickle me, I forgot his tail was a bad spot.”

Kristen laughed as she walked around the island, gently prodding Techno’s side in passing. “Keep in mind, he can use his tail on you Piglet.”

Techno flinched away from her fingers with a squeak, a nervous smile on his face. Kristen grinned, ruffling his ears and going through to the lounge to check on her other two boys. Techno ducked his head at the fond grin Phil sent his way.

“What?” He asked with a half hearted scowl, embarrassed by the high pitched noise that had left him from his mother’s touch.

Phil exhaled a laugh, resting his hand on his oldest son’s head to pacify him. “Nothing,” he said. “It’s just...a good day.”

Techno seemed to understand and hummed in quiet agreement, leaning into his touch. Phil let the warmth of the sun streaming into the kitchen melt his weight into the island, taking in a slow breath. It was nice, knowing his boys were happy, Kristen was home with them, and they were all safe.

Phil knew it wouldn’t last forever. Kristen would have to leave one day, unable to remain in the mortal world, and his boys would grow up. For now, he could let himself enjoy the peace and quiet, at least for a little while.

[lonely-lost-soul]

Under The Floorboards pt. IIII

(Technoblade X Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V

Whipping the sweat off your brow you placed the honey jars you collected on the ground, Phil really built this farm efficiently. However, that didn’t stop you needing to collect honey pots here and there, now that the vault was complete you could actually use the honey for normal things. Technoblade would never admit it but he loved when you put honey in his tea, contrary to popular belief he wasn’t a fan of plain black tea or coffee. You rolled up your sleeves and adjusted the sunhat that sat lazily on your head against your better judgment you had left your armor inside. The only thing on your person was a netherite ax Techno had enchanted for you, it was an effective weapon but without your armor, you were a bit of a sitting duck. As the bees buzzed and bumped lazily into each other, you couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight. They were just so silly. You picked up the crate of jars and turned around, your eyes narrowed as you saw some movement by the trees, it was still too early for Tommy and Technoblade to be back...so just who was snooping around the property. You felt very naked in your sun hat and overalls, especially if it was Dream himself that you were about to encounter. Your worry only increased as you noticed four men all in netherite armor walking towards the house, their swords were drawn. You had a feeling that these were the men who took Technoblade the day prior. They were like a little gang all dressed the same way, bloody aprons and all they really had the executioner vibes down. 

    “Hello, gentlemen.” You smiled giving them a wave while you adjusted the box of honey, “beautiful day isn’t it?” 

The first to answer was a man who had a scar from the tip of his eyebrow down to the bottom of his lip. He sent you a smile and you noticed a tooth missing from the upper row, a navy blue beanie held his dark hair in place. 

    “Very beautiful, it’s always a good day when the sun is shining.” He mused the sun in question reflected beautifully across all their netherite armor. The one thing you decided to leave inside, you weren’t intimidated nope not at all. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

    “(Y/N).” You responded with a hum, “Is there something that I can help you all with today?” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed two of the men moved to surround you, they thought they were slick. The only one who didn’t move was the tallest of the children there, he looked to be half Enderman. He also looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was right now poor thing. Drawing your gaze back to the other three men, you noticed one was Tommy’s age and had small horns atop his head, along with goat-like ears. A burn scar also took up half of his face. It made you frown distastefully, what was with these kids getting traumatized? First Tommy and now the half enderman and the goat kid, you couldn’t adopt all of them, well you could but it’d be a lot of work. The other looked to be part fox after all the big orange ears and the fluffy tail was dead give away, wait didn’t Ghostbur say his son was a fox. “Are you Fundy?” You asked, suddenly tilting your head to the side.

    “How do you know my name?” Fundy’s face flushed a little and he shuffled on his feet, his hand twitching to grab the sword that was at his side. 

    “I talked to your father earlier today. I’m assuming that’s how you found me?” You took the hat off your head and rested it on Carl’s stable. The fox gave a reluctant nod of confirmation you licked your lips and put your hands behind your back. “So? Do you have a problem with Technoblade or just me specifically?”

    “Wow, she’s not even a little bit ashamed.” Quackity mused and you frowned, “We’re here because your boyfriend blew up our country. He also disgraced our President right Tubbo? Don’t know if you’re aware of that or not but he escaped his punishment. So we intend to make him repent.” He walked towards you and you took a step away from him. 

    “That’s far enough thank you.” You held up your hand in hopes it would stop his trek towards you, Quackity did pause for a moment. He let out a chuckle and smiled. He thought your tough attitude was cute, but he was clearly mocking you. 

Jackass. 

    “Quackity maybe we should leave her be...she didn’t do anything.” The young goat kid murmured his ears flicking as he looked up at you. 

    “Quiet Tubbo. Let the adults speak,” Quackity snapped at him before clearing his throat and looking back at you. “Listen (Y/N) was it? We’re going to have to ask that you come with us. If you don’t we’ll have to take you by force.”

    “Wait, couldn't Technoblade have trained her?” The half enderman spoke holding up his finger in the air but no one seemed to pay him any attention. 

    “I guess force it is. Although the fight is a little unfair.” You took out your ax and twirled it in your hand, “Something tells me you don’t exactly like fair fights.” Fundy took a hesitant step backward not really wanting to lose a life for this of all things, but he pulled out his sword just in case. Clicking your tongue in distaste you sent a bloodthirsty smile their way, one that rivaled Technoblade, “Come at me.” 

Without hesitation, Quackity charged at you with his sword he didn’t aim to kill, just disarm or injure. You blocked the swing with the wooden part of your ax and spun around just in time to dodge an attack from Tubbo. You managed to elbow him in the back and he stumbled forward into Quackity, the man made a grunting sound before shoving Tubbo off of him and into the snow. Fundy moved next and managed to land a hit on the side of your arm, you hissed loudly glaring daggers at the fox. His ears pressed against his head and he let out a small whimper, “sorry!”

    “Don’t apologize to her!” Quackity groaned, “You guys are the worst gang ever.” He slapped his forehead as you readjusted your posture, “I have to do everything myself.” Quackity snarled charging at you again you sidestepped out of the way. As he stumbled trying to regain himself he knocked over the honey pots and they shattered against the ground. You swung your ax and managed to land a hit on him in the back of the legs, he let out a strangled yelp and fell on his face into the snow like Tubbo had done earlier. Yanking out the ax out of the leader of the gang blood splattered all over the ground and stained the snow. Little red beads dripped off the ax as you held it by your side, the man only let out another scream as it was torn out of him. 

    “Back. Off.” You repeated again baring your teeth with a hiss, “Turn around and go back to L’manburg and I won’t kill you. Got it.”  The ax was pointed at all of them, you saw the half enderman nod vigorously, 

    “Yes ma’am.” He nodded rapidly grabbing Tubbo and Fundy by the arm and pulled them back, the three of them watched as Quackity snarled and backed up to join them. You watched them cower and you dropped your ax on the ground so you could press the palm of your hand into the wound on your arm. You quickly turned and ran back into your home to collect bandages and fix yourself up, blood speckled the floor as you made your way into the bathroom. You tore off your overalls and shirt, washing out the wound before wrapping your arm in bandages. You didn’t know how long you stood there in front of the mirror but you looked worse for wear. 

Technoblade was going to lose his shit.

---

All Technoblade could think about on their way back to his retirement home, was you. He could only put up with Tommy for so many hours until he needed to talk to literally anyone else. He was ready to get your relaxing date night underway; he could already feel your fingers running through his hair braiding his as you went. He hummed fondly listening as the voices called him simp repeatedly, he didn’t mind this time considering he was when it came to you. 

    “That’s still cringe chat.” He murmured to himself as Tommy continued to scream about something in the background, “Yeah, yeah I love her.” He heard the chat flip their shit and he fondly chuckled, intermixed with their happy cries there was a distinct sound of ‘E’ as well as ‘nerd.’ He almost didn’t hear Tommy’s worried shouting. He frowned and rolled his eyes back into his skull, 

    “What Tommy?” 

    “Technoblade! Technoblade!” The teen bumped back into him, Technoblade grunted and looked down at him. He followed Tommy’s eyes and spotted the blood littered snow outside his house. Technoblade paused and his vision went red around the edges, his eyes stayed trained on the bloodstains as the voices began to roar within his skull. His head shot up and he saw the honey box spilled over on the ground, glass littered the snow, your hat hanging loosely on Carl’s old stable. 

     “T-Technoblade.” Tommy stuttered again looking up at the pig-man, seeing how glazed over his eyes looked. He swore steam was coming out of Technoblade’s nose and his hand drew out his pickaxe gripping it so tight his knuckles turned white. He felt his tusks grow in size and his face began to shift into his pig form. Tommy’s voice was drowned out by the flood that was the voices in his head: 

‘SHE’S GONE. THEY HAVE HER. KILL THEM ALL. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. WE DEMAND BLOOD. E. SAVE HER. YOU’RE A FAILURE. YOU DIDN’T PROTECT HER. SLAUGHTER ALL OF THEM. SHE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. SHE NEVER HURT ANYBODY. YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’ 

Technoblade took a step forward to which Tommy rapidly backed up in response. He’s never seen Techno this gone before, oh shit he has it bad for (Y/N). However, Tommy didn’t make a move to stop Technoblade; he didn’t want him to release that rage on him. Technoblade walked into the house, stepping on his glasses that fell off his face. He threw his door open with a loud slam, he needed potions and he needed a new sword. 

Whoever did this all their cannon lives were gone he’d make it long and torturous.

A soft voice broke him out of his stupor his entire body went rigid. 

    “Bubs…” He slowly turned around and came face to face with you, you looked so small, so delicate standing in the doorway. You were wearing your pajamas, soft blue with little sheep all over them. His ears twitched and his shoulders softened considerably seeing you standing safe in the doorway, however, he tensed again the minute he saw the bandages tied around your arm. Blood leaking through them, he growled eyes locking in on the spot as you made soft shushing sounds at him. 

‘SHE’S HURT. SHE’S ALIVE THOUGH. BUT SHE’S HURT, THEY NEED TO PAY. ATONE FOR WHAT THEY DID TO HER. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. SPILL THEIR BLOOD THEN MAKE OUT WITH HER. SHE’LL LOVE YOU MORE IF YOU DO. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’

Technoblade jumped feeling her hand caress his cheek, “Bubs it’s alright I’m okay.” Your voice was smooth and soothing, his eyes dilated as you spoke to him. His face shifting back to normal as he breathed heavily through his nose, “See?” You brought his head down to rest against your chest, it looked uncomfortable the way that he was bending. However, he could feel your heart beating in your chest, he made a soft whimper and grabbed onto your shoulders his pink hair tickled your chin. You brought your hands up to run his fingers through his hair as he finally calmed down enough to ignore the voices for the time being. Right now they were just commenting on how nice and warm her hands were anyway.

    “What happened to you? There was blood everywhere I was so scared.” His voice broke a little bit as he pulled away from you. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest Technoblade had never looked so broken. 

    “The butcher squad came and attacked me. They wanted to use me to get to you but I fought them off just like you taught me.” You couldn’t help but smile proudly at him and he let out a disbelieving laugh. His hands moved from your shoulders to your back as he cradled you gently in his arms, you both stood there rocking back and forth together until Technoblade was satisfied. 

    “That’s my girl.” He finally murmured backing away from you, you flushed at the compliment. Whenever he called you that it made you flush all over, you let out a loud flustered whine and whacked him on the chest. Technoblade laughed at your flustered expression, it was a rare moment the tables were flipped like this and Technoblade was going to take full advantage of the situation. “Princess what’s with that look? Am I, thee Technoblade, making you flustered? I know I’m a lot to handle, I beat Dream once, I never die, I’m not homeless. Guess what?” 

    “What?” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he circles you eyeing you up and down. 

    “I’m single.” 

    “Oh really?” You cocked an eyebrow, “I thought you had a girlfriend.” You twirled your hair around your fingers and you felt his strong hands rest on your waist. 

    “Hm I don’t think so. You might need to refresh my memory,” Technoblade mused kissing your neck tenderly. 

    “Well she’s stunningly gorgeous, and tough as nails,” Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned back against him. “She absolutely adores you and how protective you are of her, and how much of a gentle giant you are.” He made a noise of protest and rested his chin on the top of your head. You could tell he was pouting at you, 

    “See, not only is that super cringe but also factually incorrect. I am not a gentle giant, I just committed vast sums of minor terrorism and I also kill orphans so what would my girlfreind say to that huh?” He huffed clicking his tongue distastefully. 

    “She would say that you’re right but also she sees the way you take care of Carl, and how you put up with Tommy. You’re totally brothers. That makes you at least a little bit soft” 

    “Not brothers and I don’t like him.” 

    “Right sure,” You giggled a little and kissed his chin lightly. 

Technoblade let out an indignant sound before muttering, “Oh we should probably tell Tommy you aren’t kidnapped. Also discuss what to do about L’manburg now that they know you exist.” You blocked out that last part and made a beeline outside to find Tommy. The teenager in question was fumbling with his hands over by his cobblestone tower, you ran over to him and engulfed him in a hug. 

    “(Y/N)!” He shouted letting out a disbelieving laugh hugging you back with a childish smile. “You’re okay! Holy fuck I totally thought you were dead and shit! Technoblade was going fucking apeshit! His face went all pig like n’ shit totally thought he was gonna kill everyone for you! Not that I was worried.” He added quickly shoving you away crossing his arms. 

    “Of course you weren’t THE Tommy is never worried.” 

    “Yeah exactly Miss Blade you get me.” You smiled fondly at him and you ruffled his hair and he shouted at you to stop. You did so sensing Technoblade approach the both of you, Techno interlocked your hand with his own and squeezed it tightly. “You chill now Big T?” 

    “I’m always chill Tommy. Only nerds aren’t chill.” He mused with a scoff, “Hence why I always call you a nerd.” 

    “WHAT THE FUCK TECHNOBLADE! I AM ALWAYS CHILL! I’M THE CHILLEST MAN ALIVE I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW!” 

    “Stop shouting,” Technoblade groaned burying his face in your hair as you laughed fondly at their antics. Although L’manburg knew about your existence now, and although you knew Dream probably wasn’t too far behind in learning that knowledge either, you felt everything was going to be okay. 

All you needed was each other, Technoblde, Tommy, Phil and you. Together you four were gonna do great things, you just knew it.

~~~

I do plan on making another part because people seem to be enjoying this story a lot more than I originally thought when I first posted it. Which is amazing thank you for all the love and support! New stuff is also in the works, thanks again for reading and enjoying! Stay safe guys! 🥰✨

[smoochkooks]

—christmas cream(pie) ; (m.)

⟶ pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

⟶ genre: established relationship, smut, fluff

⟶ word count: 3.6k

⟶ summary:  a day before christmas dinner with your boyfriend's parents, you discover another alternative way to use the chocolate cream you’re making. jungkook is more than willing to indulge in your little fantasy.

⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, food play, finger-sucking, spit kink, dirty talk, oral (f) receiving, slight choking but nothing too extreme, unprotected sex, creampie, jungkook being the sweetest boyfriend on the earth and your emotional support, tooth-rooting domestic fluff:(

a/n: hi!! this is my little christmas present for you. hope you enjoy what my brain came up with yesterday<3 ps. i also dont know what kind of fic title this is.

Christmas secure a top spot on your own self-made list of holidays. You enjoy practically every aspect of it. The food, decorating your house, songs, movies, the whole magical aura of warmth and love – you name it.

But this year though, you're fiddled with anxiety because it's the first time you're going to celebrate with your boyfriend Jungkook and his parents.  

You've been dating for two lovely years, living in a shared apartment for almost six months but somehow you've never spent any major holiday together. Until now, it actually felt like a step bigger than moving in. Choosing to be with your families and celebrate separately was never an issue for both of you.

And foolishly, you thought this year would be no like the other, that you'll kiss your sweet boyfriend goodbye before Christmas Eve and reunite after the whole shenanigans would end. But to your surprise, Jungkook had different plans for you.  

“Y-your parents did what?”  

“They invited us for a Christmas dinner.” he repeated calmy, completely unfazed by the pure shock marring your features.

He was sprawled on the couch, hair messy and falling onto his forehead because he had been avoiding barbershops lately (it wasn’t like you minded it–if anything, it made him look even sexier). He was wearing your favorite pair of sweats that had a soy sauce stain on the left knee and a simple black t-shirt, yet for you he looked like an angel sent from the above and devil reincarnated at the same time. So deliciously domestic and soft it almost made you wanna jump him right here and there, if it wasn't for the more nagging matters that you had yet to discuss with him.  

“But,” you stuttered, brain too consumed by nerves to help you formulate coherent sentences. “I was visiting your parents in Busan over summer.”  

“Yeah, but it's been a while and they really want to see you again,” he said, raising from his spot. He came up to you, his tall, lean body towering over your form. The moment you saw his sparkly doe eyes boring holes into yours, you knew you were approximately twenty seconds from giving in. “Pretty please.” he tried again, palms cupping your flushed cheeks until you had no choice but to agree.  

“Okay.”  

Jungkook grinned in response and leaned to press a chaste kiss onto your lips. “Love you, baby.” He tasted like spicy noodles and soda but you ignored it, mustering a small smile.  

“Love you too.” you said, always meaning those three little words because truly, you could never resist Jeon Jungkook and his charms. He had you wrapped around his finger more than you'd ever admit and you'd simply do anything to make him happy, even if that meant stressing over a Christmas dinner with his parents.  

“They really like you, ___. You have nothing to worry about.” Jungkook murmured upon kissing your nose, and then forehead. “My mom is already so excited to see you. She said she would make an apple pie because you once mentioned you liked it.”

You leaned into his touch, slightly less angry you had been surprised with a revelation like that but at the same time still apprehensive and filled with nerves. “You aren't making this easier, you know?” you asked.  

Jungkook sent you an apologetic smile. “You're amazing, baby. You don't need to convince my parents again that you're the right person for me,” he said, hands finding purchase on your waist and pulling you closer to him. “All you have to do is smile and compliment my mom's cooking skills. And maybe ask dad about fishing. You know he's been crazy about it lately.”

Easier said than done, you thought to yourself. Jungkook was a natural when it came to bewitching people. Your parents adored him because he knew all the right words to make them fall for his charms. He didn’t have to try hard or pretend to be someone else in order to be accepted as their daughter’s partner.  

You, on the other hand, were on a different side of the spectrum. No matter how many times Jungkook reassured you of your worth, you still had a lot of insecurities to deal with. That was just who you were as a person. Maybe it was why you clicked so well together. You needed someone to be your second Sun.

“You got his.” With a final kiss onto the crown of your head, Jungkook left you standing in the middle of the living room, and all you could think about was a fricking apple pie and finding new ways to impress your boyfriend's parents. 

Hence way you're currently in the kitchen, blender in your right hand as you mix the ingredients for the most extra chocolate cake you've ever made, determination written all over your features like you’re competing in the final Bake Off episode.

And why is that? Because your brain couldn't let you sleep peacefully at night if you didn't decide to bake your own cake for Jungkook's mother. It started innocently, slowly getting information out of your boyfriend about his parents' favorite food. Of course, you had to be clever about it, so he wouldn't suspect anything too early into the game. That's why after asking a round of rather specific questions you lured him into a blowjob because you know he usually loses his goddman mind after a good dick sucking.  

Content with your plan, you're now a day before the Christmas dinner, Jungkook's mother's beloved cake almost ready to be put into the oven.

“Babe, I'm home!” you hear Jungkook calling from the corridor. You sent him to do some (un)necessary grocery shopping so you could have a time for yourself to prepare the cake without him looking over your shoulder and analyzing your every move. You really hate when people do that because you’re more likely to screw something when you’re being watched.

“Let me taste it then,” he says, grabby hands reaching for the bowl but you quickly swat them away.  

“I'm here!” you shout back, unplugging the blender once you're satisfied with your chocolate cream.  

“What is the smell?” Jungkook asks, entering the kitchen. “Oh,” he quips, placing grocery bags on the floor. “You made this?”  

“Mhmm,” you hum, dipping a finger into the bowl and then putting it into your mouth. It tastes good, not too sweet but at the same time it still has a strong chocolate flavor. Perfect.

“Wash your hands first.”  

“Wait,” You can almost hear the gears shifting in his brain. His grip on your waist tightens as you desperately try to stifle the laugh babbling in your throat. “This is my mom's favorite cake.” 

Jungkook dramatically salutes you, even though you see him smirking under his breath. Once his hands are all clean and dry, you feel his arms encircling your body from the back. “Is this for me?” he murmurs, obviously referring to the cake.

“Nope. It's for tomorrow's Christmas dinner.” 

That’s why you break into a smile, pulling him for a quick peck. “You can taste my cream now.” you say.  

“Great observation.”

“And you said you were making it for the Christmas dinner,” Jungkook continues, “Which means you did this purposely.” he finishes, twirling your body so you're now facing him.  

“You said she would make me an apple pie so I thought I could reciprocate the kindness and do the same,” An innocent smile tugs at your lips. “Besides, the more food the better.” 

Jungkook snorts. “So here's why you were asking me all those weird questions lately.”

Your eyes widen. “You paid attention to that?”

“Babe, I might be a simple man who enjoys seeing his girlfriend sucking his dick but it doesn't mean I don't listen to you,” he says, sounding slightly offended but you know that deep down he's amused by the whole situation. “You didn't have to do that, you know?”  

You let out a long sigh. “I know but... I just felt so weird. Your parents are so happy to see us, they are doing all those preparations and I couldn't stop thinking about doing something to impress them in return,” you murmur. “So they wouldn't think it preparing a whole celebratory dinner for their son and his girlfriend was actually pointless.” you add in a smaller voice, dropping your head down.   

“Baby,” Jungkook coos, fingers grasping your chin so you could look him in the eye again. “You're an amazing person. My parents know that too. You don't have to prove them your worth. Ever.”  

His words make you relax visibly. You don’t know what you would do if you didn’t have Jungkook by your side. He’s just being himself, showing you his extremely caring side as he usually does when you feel down but somehow you’re more thankful for this now.

You dip your index finger into the cream. Then, making sure his eyes are trained on your face, you bring your finger up and envelop with your lips, purposely sucking on it obscenely. “Mmm,” you nothing but moan. “It’s really good.”

“That sounded awfully sexual.”  

“No, it did not! You're just perverted.” 

“But you love me anyway, don't you?” 

You snort at his stupid remark. Suddenly, a not-so-innocent idea pops in your mind and you wonder who’s actually the one with more inappropriate thoughts running through their head. Jungkook might enjoy teasing you on daily basis, but a girl can have her fun too, right?  

Jungkook's eyes darken seeing your little stunt you’ve decided to pull today. He bites the inside of his cheek, before saying,”’I know what game you’re playing.”  

“I’m not doing anything.” you respond, feigning innocence. Before you can dive for more cream, Jungkook grabs your wrist and stops you.  

Bingo.  

When he takes his two fingers and plunges them into the cream, you know exactly what’s coming next, the adrenaline and excitement pumping through your veins. He brings his fingers up towards your face and you have to fight an urge to stay still, waiting for his instructions like the good girl you obviously are. “Open up, baby.”  

You oblige immediately, mouth falling open and tongue out. He pushes his fingers inside, sweet, chocolate cream filling your taste buds. “Suck.” he says simply, eyes fixated on your lips. You do it without a second thought, swirling your tongue around his digits and making sure to lick every last drop of the substance.  

When he decides he can't take it anymore, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and before you can even blink, he crashes his lips onto yours; fast, messy and unforgiving, thrusting his tongue inside to play with yours. His motives are clear: you aren’t leaving the kitchen without getting properly fucked.  

“So sweet,” he murmurs against your lips, the hand around your waist pulling you flush against him. “My cute girlfriend thought she could tease me and get away with it.”  

He bites onto your lower lip as to prove his point and you whimper. “It’s not like that,” you manage to say, grinding yourself against the evident bulge in his pants. “I didn’t expect to get away with it.”  

Jungkook's hands travel to the backs of your thighs and he lifts you up effortlessly, placing you on the counter. You’re sure there are traces of flour still on it but you couldn’t care less right now, not when a pair of hands roughly nudges your legs apart so he could stand in between them.

“So you did it purposely,” Jungkook leaves your mouth in favor of tracing kisses down your neck. Careful not to marry your skin with hickeys because you would beat the shit out of him if he did bruise your neck a day before the dinner with his parents. “Naughty girl.” He punctuates his statement with a bite to your earlobe, his next words being whispered directly into your ear. “What should I do with you, then?”  

You whimper, your thighs pressing together just hearing the tone of his voice. You lace your fingers through the locks at the back of his hair and place a kiss against his lips. “Fuck me?” you ask in a saccharine-sweet tone.  

He chuckles in response, fingers grasping your t-shirt and pulling it off you, revealing your bare chest to his hungry eyes. He wastes no time and latches his mouth onto a nipple but as soon as his tongue meets your hardened bud, he retreats. Confused, you watch as he reaches for the bowl once again and dips his fingers into the cream. He then smears it all over your nipples, a proud smirk caught on his lips when he leans back to admire his art work.  

“Kook,” you mewl, too pathetically for your liking and you know how much it’ll stroke his ego. “Please, touch me.” you plea, one of your hands reaching to pull him closer to you.

“Yeah?” His chuckle is almost sinister. “Look at you, all dirty and begging me so nicely. Not that smart with your mouth now, are you?”  

All you manage is a nod and meek “Please,” that quickly morphs into a drawn out moan when he finally dips his head to suck your nipple into his hot mouth. You never could have guessed that the idea of food play would be so arousing to you but here you are, pussy clenching around nothing when your sweet boyfriend licks chocolate cream off your boobs.

When he’s done and satisfied with the result, he grabs your sweatpants and pulls them down along with your underwear in one go, your bare ass meeting with the cold marble of your kitchen counter. Jungkook wastes no time and spreads your legs apart, not giving you a second to shy away from his burning gaze before he dives in to lick a stripe up your slit.  

You cry out in pleasure when his tongue finds your clit and gives it a sharp suck, his hands grabbing your ankles and bending your knees so he could have a full access to your glistening core. You’re absolutely drenched, dripping down your thighs and making a mess on Jungkook's face but he doesn’t mind it a bit, eating you out like a champ you know he is.  

“So wet,” he rasps against your cunt. “Messy girl.”

To make matters worse (or better) he takes his sweet time and lets a glob of his spit mix with your arousal because Jungkook, much like you, enjoys giving a head more than anything in the world and makes it his priority to see you lose it on his tongue. You’re positive you will come like this if he keeps continuing abusing your clit just right. He knows your pussy like the back of his hand. Knows what makes you keen, how to make you eyes roll to the back of your head. It fuels his ego to see you like this; helpless and utterly devoted to the pleasure and you don’t even mind when he brags about it later. How could you if you benefit so much from it?  

Suddenly, he grunts into your cunt and your brows furrow because it’s not the sound you’re used to hearing during sex. You look down to check what’s wrong but he’s already up and in level with your eyes, a sheepish smile adoring his features.  

“Neck cramp,” he explains, his palm massaging the back of his neck. “Eating pussy is easier on the bed.” You can’t help but giggle, replacing his hand with yours and providing him a temporary relief. “I’m sorry. Were you close?” he asks. 

There he is. Your sweet, caring boyfriend who never forgets to ask for consent before railing you into the mattress and always putting your pleasure before his own.  

“Mhmm,” you hum, grasping his t-shirt and lifting it off his body. It should be considered a sin to look like this, you think to yourself. “But I want to come on your cock instead.”  

Jungkook grins, quickly pulling down his pants and underwear. His cock slaps against his stomach, pride swelling in your chest because you know you can make him this hard without your touch. “How do you want it?” he asks, guaranteeing himself a moment of relief when he gives his cock a few pumps, spreading precum all over his length.

“Like that,” you answer, gesturing at your current position on the counter. “Wanna see you.”  

“Anything for my pretty girl.”  

If you weren't already red, you would have blushed at his cute words. The sentiment doesn’t last long though, your face twisting in ecstasy when he lines himself up with your entrance and starts pushing inside, the stretch deliciously burning. “Oh my god, Kook,” you whimper, hand clutching onto his biceps for support. “So big. You feel so good.” He groans, slithering himself deeper. His forehead rests onto yours, few ragged breaths before you murmur, “You can move.”

He sets a punishing pace from the beginning, fucking you hard and fast; wet, slapping noises filling the kitchen. You’re a blubbering mess, moaning incoherently as he splits your pussy open, thrust after thrust. “Yeah, fucking take it,” Jungkook rasps, grabbing your hips even harder, no doubt leaving there marks. “Cream my cock like a good girl.”  

You mewl in response, your eyes focusing on his parted lips. “J-jungkook,” you stutter, head completely deprived of rational thoughts. “Spit in my mouth.” It’s almost a breathless plea on your tongue.  

He curses, his right hand squeezing your cheeks. “Open.” You do it right away, nearly moaning when he purses his lips and spits, eyes almost bulging out of his head when he sees you swallow it greedily. “Dirty fucking girl.” he growls.

“B-but you love it, right?” you whimper, eyes glossy because he's hitting that spot inside your pussy that makes your toes curl. “L-love when I’m like this just for you.”  

“Fuck, yeah I do,” Jungkook says, placing his hand around your throat. He doesn’t apply pressure and simply rests it there, urging you to look directly at him. “I love when my pretty baby becomes a dirty slut for me.” He punctuates his words with a harsh buck of his hips that makes you cry out.

You can't take it anymore. “K-kook,” you whine, grabbing his wrist and urging him to squeeze your throat. “I love you.”  

Despite his hand around your neck and cock abusing your cunt, he breaks into a smile. He leans down to kiss you on your putty lips. You try to keep up with him but there’s no use for that, so you just open your mouth and let him slither his tongue inside. When he pulls away, your lips are wet with saliva. Messy, but you wouldn’t exchange it for anything less. “Love you too, baby.” he groans in a strained voice, dragging his cock fast through your walls.

As if reading your mind, his thumb reaches to rub fast circles on your clit. “’m so close,” you mumble, thighs shaking.

“C'mon, pretty. Wanna see you come around me.” Jungkook murmurs, gone is his dominant aura, it’s now only his gentle voice coaxing you into an earth-shattering orgasm.  

When you come down from your high, you’re swatting his fingers away from your core. Normally you would probably indulge into it more, but oversensitivity seems to be too much to handle for you today. Jungkook thrusts his hips a few more times and follows right after you, groaning your name and spilling himself inside.  

“That was nice.” he comments breathlessly  and you can’t help but chuckle, widing your arms around his neck and pulling him for a well-deserved kiss.  

“I’m too tired to move my legs and somebody needs to finish the cake,” you pout, not an ounce of exaggeration in your statement because that’s utterly true–you’re always too spent after a round of fucking with Jungkook to even go to the bathroom on your own. He gladly carries you there in his arms bridal-style every, single time.

“It's okay, sweetheart. I’ll do it.” he says, making you giggle under your breath triumphantly.  

You might be willing to do everything for you boyfriend but if anything, you’re equal in that department.  

“I’m also pretty sure there’s flour on my ass.”  

Jungkook raises his brow at you. “That I’m not going to clean.”  

“Fine. But next time I'm putting whipped cream on your dick.” you decide.  

When he pulls out of you, his cum spills out of your hole but he's quick to catch the droplets and push them back inside you with his fingers. “You’re a little minx, you know that, right?” he says and then licks his digits clean.  

“You love me anyway.” He grins, leaning to kiss you but he stops mid-way. “What is it?” you ask, raising your brows.

“Since I came inside you, we can call it a creampie, right?”  

Still slightly dazed after sex, you’re not quick enough to realise what he implies before it’s too late. “I mean yes but–oh my god. No, no, no! Stop!”  

“Cream-pie!”  

“I hate you!”  

“And I love you too.”  

After all, you were worrying about the dinner too much, as always.  

Everybody complimented your cake. Jungkook's mother was delighted. His father talked about fishing for almost an hour.

But your sweet boyfriend's smirking face as he ate the cake was telling you were in for a long night of sinning in your bed as soon as you went back home.  

And he obviously didn’t disappoint.  

[2goth2moth]

Hi! How are you doing?🤗

This is my first request that I ever made soooo I hope I'm doing everything okay😅

If I may ask for an alpha!werewolf x reader smut where the reader just flirted with another wolf to make their alpha jealous? And his reaction is.. i would say special😂 lot of teasing, dirty talk, rough sex and so on😊

Thank you!☺

Here you go, I hope you enjoy! :-)

In a String of Bad Ideas (M!Werewolf x GN!Reader, NSFW)

Word count: 2834

Includes: Jealousy, dirty talk, marking, scent kink, face-fucking, thigh fucking, rough sex

You had never exactly been known for your good ideas. It certainly wasn’t that you were unintelligent, but your years growing up could be read as a roadmap of ideas that would have definitely gone better if you thought them through. In a word: impulsive. But in retrospect, this particular idea was definitely one of your less thoroughly considered.

It started at a party. Well, if you were splitting hairs, it started with Finn. With your boyfriend, and with him not paying enough attention to you. You had both been busy, so you couldn’t really fault him, but still. You hadn’t had sex in a month, and even when both of you were free, he hadn’t really taken you up on offers to even hang out. Enough was enough. So there you were, at a party. Trying to make your boyfriend, your alpha werewolf boyfriend, jealous.

Another alpha werewolf was standing in front of you. In the pulsing lights of the party, you couldn’t really make out any features other than abnormally tall and solidly built, both very much standard for werewolves. You didn’t remember his name, if he’d even told you yet, and you hadn’t really heard the joke he’d just told over the music, but you still laughed indulgently. Your hand found a place on his forearm, and a little flicker of satisfaction went through you as his eyes came to rest on your exposed chest. The shirt you wore was unbuttoned a hole or two too far to be decent, your shorts cuffed an inch or two too high to be entirely appropriate. All on purpose. You weren’t sure where Finn was at the moment, but you had to make the scene look right. You let yourself drift closer to the wolf’s large form, rubbing your hand along his hairy arm.

He began to move his hand down to just graze your hip when another hand, broad and clawed, yanked you away and into a large, distinctly wolfish form. A quick glance up revealed Finn towering behind you.

“Hands off,” he growled, lips pulled to expose sharp teeth in an obvious display of aggression.

The no-name wolf you had been flirting with flashed his own teeth back. The air became so heavy with alpha pheromones that even you could start to smell them. “Why? It’s not like they’re yours.”

Finn’s claws dug into your waist and pulled you flush back against him. “Actually yes,” he said, tone steeped in possessiveness. “They are.” He leaned down to lick the side of your neck messily, keeping eye-contact with the other werewolf the whole time.

You knew that where he ran his tongue was roughly where scent glands would be on a werewolf omega. Such explicit and public claiming was something that he had never done before. It sent heat licking down your spine. He stayed there, staring down the other wolf, lapping at your skin, until Mr. Nameless dropped his gaze to the floor in submission and backed away.

The wet strokes against your neck let up. “Hey Finn,” you said, a little breathless, “Where were you- HEY!”

What you began saying was cut off with a yelp as Finn locked a hand around your wrist and began dragging you through the house after him. You went along with it, hoping that this reaction would lead to something fun. He threw open the door to an empty bedroom and pulled you inside, locking the door behind you.

“What was that?” He asked, backing you against a wall.

You feigned innocence. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play fucking coy. You were all over that guy. You’re basically half naked. What’s going on?”

You sighed. You were going to have to tell him at some point. “I was trying to make you jealous. You haven’t really been paying attention to me lately.”

He crowded even closer to you, wedging his thigh between your legs. You were completely flush with the wall now. “So you let some other wolf’s filthy hands on you...to make me jealous? Why? Are you that desperate for me to fuck you?” His voice was perfectly even and dangerously quiet.

You knew that you were still playing with fire, but you barrelled on ahead. “Yeah, so? It seems to have worked out well enough,” you teased, grinding slightly against the leg he had tucked between yours.

Finn dipped his head down to run his lips along the shell of your ear. “And what exactly makes you think I’m gonna fuck you?”

“Um, this?” You asked, slightly confused, pressing your leg even closer to his groin. His cock was was hard and heated against you.

“Oh, ‘this’?” He said. His breath fanned out over the side of your face and he ground against you properly, letting out a harsh little grunt. “This is getting dealt with, but I certainly won’t be fucking you.”

A whine broke from your throat. “What? Why not? I thought that you would have wanted to prove I was yours.”

“Believe me, I do. By the time I’m done with you, everyone will know who you belong to. But you actually want me to fuck you, and what would be the point in me rewarding bad behaviour?”

“Finn!” You complained, trying desperately to not buck your hips into him.

He chuckled against the skin of your neck. “Shhh. Maybe if you ask me nicely, I’ll let you cum sometime tonight.”

You barely had time to let out a whimper before Finn crushed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. It was messy, almost violent, more tooth and tongue than proper kiss. You moaned helplessly into his mouth, grabbing at the hem of his shirt to steady yourself. He quickly moved down to your neck, the skin completely exposed by your own mostly-undone shirt. Sloppy, open-mouthed kisses fell along your collarbone before he latched onto the soft patch of skin under the corner of your jaw. Right where he had licked earlier, right where a werewolf mating bite would go. You gasped loudly as he began sucking a mark there. It was only seconds before the skin felt swollen and bruised. He pulled off with pop and a harsh nip.

“You’re mine, do you understand?” He growled.

Not trusting yourself to say anything, you nodded helplessly. He kept assaulting your neck, leaving hickies and shallow bite marks on every inch of your neck that he could reach. It all felt so good that you didn’t notice his hands wandering until your shirt was ripped clean from your body.

“Hey!” The cold raised goosebumps on your flesh. Finn’s hands began to roam your bare torso, claws lightly scratching lines too soft to really hurt. It was getting difficult to stay fully composed. “I liked that shirt. And I don’t have anything else to wear back home.”

“I’ll buy you a new fucking shirt. And you can wear my shirt back,” he snarled. His hands landed on your hips and he bodily flipped you so that your chest was pressed against the wall. Your shorts and underwear were yanked down your legs in a single motion. “Or walk back naked, I don’t really care.”

Claws dug painfully into your hips as he pulled them back enough to make your spine arch. A single messy kiss on your shoulder was the last thing you felt for several seconds before Finn was licking a slow, broad stripe over your puckered hole. The sudden feeling made you moan and arch even further into the wall.

He took the meat of your ass between his teeth and bit down, hard enough to sting, before soothing the mark with his tongue. “Do you want me to eat you out?” He kissed your other cheek. “Want me to drive you crazy with my tongue?” A bite to the top of your thigh. “I’ll make it so you’re so turned on that you’re dripping, then I’ll fuck your thighs.” Another lick to your hole. “If you really beg for it, maybe I’ll let you suck my cock.”

“P-please!” You pleaded, mind getting fuzzy with what he was saying.

Finn dipped his face back to lap at your perineum. The very tip of his tongue caught on your rim on a particularly teasing upward drag. “I won’t knot you properly, only good little omegas get knots.” You weren’t an omega-- you weren’t even a werewolf-- but the term being thrown at you so casually sent sparks through your blood. It felt so right. “But I’ll mark you so completely that you won’t even be able to burn my scent off of you. No one is ever going to forget who you belong to. Especially not you.”

You barely got to choke out a “Please, Alpha” before he shoved his face back in your ass. His tongue teased your hole on each slow lick, tip not quite breaching the rim. He was definitely just teasing you now, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you beg. At least not yet. You sank your teeth into your lip to stifle any noises and let your head drop forward against the wall. Your attempts to maintain composure were quickly broken down by the feeling of a hot, slippery tongue plunging into you. A strangled moan broke out of your mouth with each flick against your insides.

“O-oohh God.”

Finn’s answering hum was muffled. His jaw kept working against you, slowly drawing more noises of pleasure from you. Saliva was steadily dripping out of his mouth where he moved. It ran in thick rivulets down the inside of your thighs, and with a desperate little movement you ground your hips back into his face.

Claws dug deep into your ass where he was still holding you. With a loud growl and another hard bite to your leg, he pulled himself up to stand behind you. A zip and the sound of fabric rustling sounded before he plastered himself against you, cock hard and leaking against the small of your back.

He kissed the side of your throat, wet and open-mouthed, with the barest scratch of teeth. “Keep your thighs together.”

You obeyed, squeezing your legs together as tightly as you could. You could feel Finn adjust his stance before pushing himself into the miniscule space between them. Despite how tight it was, the movement was slick, aided by his pre-cum and the spit that had dripped down from your ass. The shaft dragged against you on its way through, making you groan low in your throat. The feeling of him fucking your thighs and kissing your neck was good, especially when his hard length ran against your crack and groin. But the touch was just barely a tease. It was nowhere near satisfying to you, and the gentle grazes were making you writhe in a fruitless attempt to get something-- anything-- more fulfilling. The head of his cock appeared between your legs, shiny and glistening red. Pre-cum was beaded at the tip, and you couldn’t help but swipe your finger over it, gathering the clear fluid, and putting it in your mouth. The taste was one you were intimately familiar with, musky and rich, supposedly the same as Finn’s alpha pheromones.

A sharp smack landed on the fullest part of your butt. It felt equal parts painful and pleasurable, and the shock sent you jolting forward into the wall with a yelp.

“Did I tell you you could do that?” Finn huffed into your ear. He began pistoning his hips even harder, dragging his shaft between your thighs, making your legs shake with each stroke. You shook your head. Another hard thrust slammed your chest into the wall. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“No, A-alpha,” you choked out.

“No, I didn’t.” He aggressively sucked another hickey onto your neck, right under the hinge of your jaw, so high that there was no way you’d be able to cover it. “So why exactly did you think it was okay?”

“I want you, Alpha, so bad. I just couldn’t wait.” There was no doubt that your voice was whiny and more than a little pathetic at this point. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

You could feel Finn’s mouth curl into a vicious smile on your skin. “Do you want to suck my cock that bad? Filthy little omega can’t wait for me any longer?”

That word again. “Omega”.

You squirmed in his hands and shook your head, not completely trusting your voice. The way that Finn was talking to you, the way he touched you, like you properly belonged to him, was turning your mind to goo. For a split-second, you wished that you were a werewolf omega so that you could take his bite, so that he could take yours, so that you could possess each other the way mates did.

“Do you want to suck me off?” You nodded, a little shakily. “Hmmmm, I’m not sure I believe you.” He stopped thrusting through your thighs, just standing at your back, massaging your ass. “You may have to convince me.”

Determination crystalized in your chest at the challenge. You turned to face him and sank to your knees. The dick in front of you was massive, flushed and slick with pre-cum, knot beginning to bulge at the base. You kept yourself carefully levelled with the shaft and stared up at Finn through your lashes. This was a dirty move, you knew, he had told you numerous times that seeing you kneeling like this drove him wild. The ball was back in your court, even if you were the one desperate and begging.

“Please, Alpha,” you whined. Exhaling into the sound, you drifted forward slightly, letting his dick hit your cheek, leaving a trail of slick pre-cum on your skin. “Fuck my mouth, cum all over me, please. Make everyone know whose omega I am.”

At the end of it, you opened your mouth and let your tongue hang out. Finn held for a breath, staring down at you. In one swift, sudden movement, he seized your jaw and plunged his cock inside. The intrusion made you gag for a second, but you relaxed your throat around him, settling comfortably into your usual rhythm for this. One clawed hand stayed locked around your chin as he began driving his length into your mouth. The girth of his shaft stretched your mouth uncomfortably. Each stroke sent the head into your throat, making you choke and spasm around him. The feeling sent little spurts of gloriously rich pre-cum shooting into you with each forward thrust. You could see his knot swelling in front of your nose, already close to popping from when he fucked himself between your thighs. You began swallowing around him as well as you could, trying to milk him to completion.

His grip on you was getting harsher, biting into you with those big, sharp claws, and his thrusts were getting sloppier by the second. Each ragged breath was edged with an animalistic growl as he became more desperate for release. He wasn’t talking anymore, just fucking into your open mouth, chasing his pleasure with single-minded determination. You moaned wantonly around him, the sound muffled by his heated flesh. Spit was leaking out of your mouth, mixing with pre-cum and sliding down your chin and dripping down.

“Gonna- fuck- gonna cum!” Finn snarled above you. He dragged you off of his cock, leaving you panting, covered in saliva, mouth hanging open. He pumped himself a few times before squeezing his knot and cumming all over you with an aggressive yell. Pearly ribbons of white, the same thick musk as his pre-cum and pheromones, fell across your face and hair, catching on your eyelashes and landing in your waiting mouth.

You swallowed what landed on your tongue. A large hand swiped cum away from your eyes and rubbed it into the warm skin behind your ear. Opening your eyes, you looked up into the warm, adoring face of your alpha. He brought his hand up to your mouth, coaxing you to lick it clean. Your thighs were still sticky from his mouth and cock, and cum was now dripping from your face onto your chest and legs where they were folded beneath you. Hickies and bruising fingerprints littered your neck and hips. You looked so thoroughly fucked-out, and yet…

“Was I good enough? Do I get to cum now?”

Finn grinned at you, toothy and wicked, promising pleasure and pain in equal measure. “I’m going to take you home now, omega. And I’m going to tease you until you cry, until you’re sobbing and begging me to let you cum. And then I’m going to leave you there for hours. And only when you’ve really learned your lesson will I let you finish.”

He hauled you upright and kissed you, deep and filthy, swallowing up every whimper that fell from your lips at the threat.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Sweet Tooth [Spencer x gn! Reader]

A/N: this is for my “Donuts” square on my CM Bingo Card for @cmbingo​ AKA The four times Spencer gave you donuts and one time he didn’t. 

CW: absolutely none, complete and utter fluff.

WC: 1.5K

Find my Masterlist here.

You would always remember the first time you saw him. The morning rush had you exhausted, sweaty and somewhat flustered. You swore every DC man and his mother got their coffee for their morning commute at your shop. 

Just as it was dying down he stepped up to the counter, large hazel eyes and a slightly awkward smile. 

“Black coffee please.” His voice was like honey to your ears. It took a few seconds for you to register his words. 

“Uh...yeah sure. Coming right up.” You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and turned towards the coffee maker. “Anything else?”

The man mused this for a moment. He had unruly curly hair and a jawline that could cut glass. 

“Do you have a donut recommendation?” 

You finished his coffee and slid it across the counter as you contemplated this.

“Well my favourite is strawberries and cream. But you have to have one hell of a sweet tooth for that.”

He smiled with a small nod. 

“I’ll take one of those.” 

You got a paper bag and cautiously placed the delicacy inside. 

You rang up his order and he paid. You slid his donut across the counter but he smiled playfully.

“It’s not for me.” He slid it back, his eyes sparkling at you. “Enjoy.” 

And with that he was gone. 

You stared dumbly at the spot he had just been standing. The moment had been so fleeting it was almost as though it had never happened.

But there was a strawberry and cream donut on the counter in front of you.

***

Three weeks passed and there was no sign of your mystery donut customer. Every time the little bell over the door chimed over those three weeks your heart skipped a beat and your eyes would dart to the door. But it was never him.

Over time you started to think you must have imagined him. You’d been exhausted that morning and maybe your mind had created the handsome stranger as a distraction.

Or if he had been real, he’d probably been a tourist which would explain why you hadn’t seen him again. And every day your hope dwindled a little more that you ever would see him again. 

You weren’t even sure why it mattered. It had been a fleeting moment, a small act of kindness but for some reason it had stuck with you. Maybe it was his intoxicating eyes or his warm smile. 

After you returned from your break that day and were getting your apron back on, something caught your eye. It was a paper bag behind the counter with your name on.

“What’s this?” You asked your colleague with a frown. 

She turned from where she was cleaning the coffee machine.

“Oh some guy came in and asked what the sweetest donut we did was. I told him it was probably the caramel sensation and he paid for it and told me to keep it for you.” She shrugged.

“What?” You picked up the bag. “Who? When?”

“Some guy.” She shrugged again. “Tall, messy hair. Said his name was Spencer I think.”

“When? How long ago?”

“I don’t know?” She laughed. “Maybe a quarter of an hour ago?” 

Your heart dropped and soared all at once. He’d been here and you’d missed him. But he’d left you a donut. 

You cautiously removed the donut from its bag and before you took a bite you muttered to yourself, “thanks Spencer.”

***

Two days later right smack bang in coffee lovers rush hour, he appeared again. He sidestepped being served by your colleague and as a dad and his boisterous children stepped away, he materialised in front of you.

“Hi.” He smiled. “How was the donut?”

“It was good thanks.” You blushed, you couldn’t help yourself. 

“Good.” He blushed slightly too. “So you know my name, am I allowed to know yours?”

You giggled a little and pointed at your name badge pinned to your apron.

“Y/N.” 

Oh god he felt foolish. He’d never thought to look. 

“Oh yeah.” His blush deepened. “Sorry.”

“Can you hurry it up!” A large, angry looking man behind Spencer grumbled. “I don’t got all day for your flirting.”

You both blushed again at his words.

“Uhm...black coffee?”

“Yes please. And a donut of your choice.” 

You set about making his drink, trying not to stare at him but it was hard when he was so gorgeous. 

You picked out two chocolate sprinkle donuts and bagged them separately. 

“Why two?” He frowned a little when you slid one over the counter. 

“It’s your turn to have a donut on me.” You pulled at all your confidence and winked at him. “Coffees on me too.”

“What? I can’t do that.” He shook his head a little frantic. 

“You’ll think of a way to return the favour.” You smiled at him and then you moved on to serve your next customer while Spencer just stared, slightly slack jawed. 

***

Another few weeks passed and Spencer didn’t come back into the coffee shop. You worried you scared him off with your blatant flirtatiousness. Maybe you’d come on too strong. 

Just when you’d resided yourself to the fact you had indeed frightened him away and that he was probably getting his fix at Starbucks rather than your small boutique cafe, a delivery man of all people proved you wrong.

He nudged the door open with his hip, a large flat box in his hands.

“I’m looking for Y/N.” He grunted slightly as he came to the counter.

“That’s me.” You pointed at your name badge. How did people always miss that?

“These are for you.” He set the box down on the counter. 

You stared down at the delights through the transparent lid. At least a dozen donuts of all varieties laid inside. 

You looked back up but the delivery man had already gone. 

You carried your treats through to the back office and opened the lid where you found a small note inside. 

You unfolded it and read the messy handwriting inside.

Y/N, 

Sorry I haven’t been in for a while, my job is hectic. But I wanted to make up for it, so here is a donut for everyday I haven’t been able to see you. Hope to see you soon,

Spencer.

You felt yourself blushing as you read his words over and over. He wasn’t avoiding you. You hadn’t freaked him out. He sent you a donut for every day you’d been apart. 

God this man was something else. You couldn’t wait to thank him to his face. You just hoped you didn’t have to wait too long.

***

It was another week before you spotted that mop of curly hair sat at a table outside the coffee shop in the DC sunshine. 

You waited for the place to quieten down, placed two chocolate custard donuts on plates and took your break. 

You took a few deep breaths as you pushed open the cafe door and stepped out onto the street. He had his back to you reading a newspaper as you approached. 

“I thought it was high time I returned the favour.” You spoke, making Spencer almost jump out of his seat. 

You giggled a little and without being invited you slid into the empty seat opposite him. 

“Oh hi Y/N.” He spoke, regaining his composure and folding his newspaper. 

You slid him one of the donuts.

“Hi Spencer.” You smiled back at him. 

You kept eye contact as you both took a bite of your respective donuts. 

“So, as much as I love trading donuts back and forth,” you started between mouthfuls. “Are you ever going to ask me on a date?” 

You weren’t sure what came over you, you were never so forward with men. But Spencer was different. You would do anything it took to make him yours. The attraction between the two of you was palpable. He’d made the first move with the donuts, now it was your turn.

“That’s why I’m here.” He smiled at you and it sent shivers down your spine. “What time do you get off work?” 

“Five.” 

He looked at his watch, it was just before two.

“Ok, I’ll be right here when you finish.” 

“You’re going to wait all that time for me?” You couldn’t hide your blush.

“As long as I have coffee, I don’t mind waiting.” His smile turned a little shy and you thought it was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen. 

“I’ll make sure you never have an empty cup.” You finished your donuts, your eyes fixed on one another. “I need to get back.”

“I’ll be waiting.” You pushed your chair back and stood up. 

“Where do you want to go for dinner?” He looked up at you, eyes sparkling. 

You thought about this for a second before you grinned. You started walking away and turned to speak over your shoulder. 

“I donut mind Spencer. I donut mind at all.” 

[1kook]

EXPLORER

jjk x female reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This type of mission has never been his. 

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

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

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

Frankly, Jungkook doesn’t believe it. 

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

But not as perfect as Sixamians. 

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

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

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

And then he’s off. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three days. 

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

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

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

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

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

You loved it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook thinks you are an odd creature. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He is not sure if he believes you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or so he says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thus a whole week passes with Jungkook of Sixam.

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

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

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

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

And then he’s thinking. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until now. 

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

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

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

He was in trouble. 

Ovulation creeps up on you early into the next week. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wants to be like you. 

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

Most importantly, Jungkook likes you. 

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

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

He wants to remain beside you. 

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

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

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

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

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

So he spills it all out to you. 

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

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

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

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

Instead he sits in silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The day drags on. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the end, both of you are drenched. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a lot of weight behind that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” you ask, ever so eloquently. 

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

Your face burns. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sheer and utter adoration. 

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

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

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

And Jungkook does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It ends too soon.

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[deliriousgeek]

She’s the Alpha (Owen Grady x Reader) .10

Masterlist:

Chapter 10

“That was a close one.”

“You open the gate, I’ll go in.” Owen hurriedly stated once he and Y/n came to a stop at the raptor enclosure. Without a moment’s hesitation, or a reply from Y/n, Owen began sprinting towards the gate. The concrete walls of the open enclosure did little to nothing to hide the snarls coming from within. Owen could hear Echo and Charlie calling to their older sisters, hopefully in an attempt to chide them away from ripping at each other’s throats. The sound carried over the concrete barriers, through the barred gates and into Owen’s ears. His heartbeat quickened and he felt his chest clench at every growl made. He could only imagine the damage Blue and Delta could have done to each other, praying to whatever higher being there was that he was wrong. 

The visceral sounds of the two sisters fighting could be heard from the car where Y/n stood.

Letting out a gasp of surprise at the threatening screeches, Y/n slammed her car door shut. “Are you crazy?” She shouted while running towards the man who was already putting protective armor to go inside the enclosure, “They might be babies, Owen, but they’re still raptors.”

Owen stopped putting on the armor for a brief moment to glance at Y/n, as if to contemplate her words before one of the raptors let out another snarl, a reminder of his needed urgency. 

As soon as the protective gear covering his arms, legs, and torso was completely strapped tight, Owen swung the first gate open and stepped inside. 

Y/n’s eyes widened as Owen locked the gate behind him. His eyes shot up to hers.

“To get all of us out of here safe, you need to do exactly as I say. Got it?” Owen’s brows furrowed.

Y/n wasn’t used to Owen’s gruff, stern voice. He had only ever spoken to her with a joking manner. In all the time they had known each other, Owen had never used such a commanding and serious tone. His voice dropped to a sound that Y/n could only describe as a deep chest voice. She supposed that would happen in a dire situation such as this. Stunned by the use of this new type of speech Y/n could only stare into Owen’s eyes as the noise of Blue and Delta fighting grew louder. 

She had taken a moment too long to reply.

“Y/n!” Owen snapped. 

His chest was now heaving with adrenaline. His girls were in there, fighting for goodness knows how long. Every second he spent out here could be a drop of blood, a tooth, a piece of skin or even a life lost. 

Y/n blinked at his voice raise. 

“I need all your focus right now. Can you do that?” Owen spoke again, this time with the same urgency but in a different, more gentle, tone of voice. 

A silent moment of understanding passed through them.

Y/n nodded. The adrenaline of the situation was now kicking into her veins. A new feeling of determination settled into her frame. Owen nodded a thanks before barking out the plan.

After quickly turning on the main lights, Owen could see the damage Delta and Blue had left to the enclosure. Dirt was kicked up, plants were crushed. Echo and Charlie could be seen in their respective cages, barking towards the center of the area. Following their line of sight Owen could see Delta and Blue circling each other, snarling, teeth bared, and snapping.

Blue had multiple scratch wounds on her haunches. They were bleeding and fresh. A bite mark could be seen just above Delta’s shoulder. It didn’t seem too deep, which brought a small ounce of relief to Owen’s vast pool of worry.

Owen stepped toward the main gates that led into the enclosure.

“On my count okay?” He called back to Y/n.

Y/n stared at the two sisters fighting, worry pooled in her eyes. “Okay.” She answered, in a just as determined tone.

“1,” Owen readied himself to run. “2,” Y/n let out a shaky breath as Owen counted down. “3!”

Y/n opened the gates and Owen ran into the enclosure, blowing a whistle and waving a piece of meat he had grabbed from the raptor’s feeding area. The two sisters halted their fighting upon hearing the ruckus coming towards them, turning their heads to look at the spectacle in front of them. 

The plan was that Owen would go inside the enclosure, distract the girls, then use the meat to lure them into their respective cages. Owen was now ten feet away from the adolescent velociraptors, their attention no longer on each other.

He let go of the whistle to grab another piece of meat from his utility belt. “Hey! Yeah that’s right, eyes on me.”

He began waving the two pieces of meat in the air. “You want some of this right? Not each other? C’mon, you can have it.”

The sisters looked at each other, before turning their bodies towards Owen. They began slowly slinking their way towards him, much like a cat would walk as it hunted its prey. 

Despite the fact that Blue and Delta only measured in about three feet in height, they still held an air of danger around them, and Owen had to remind himself that if he took one misstep, it could be the end of his life. 

“Alright girls,” Owen slowly led the raptors around their enclosure, back to their cages. “Okay, look at me Delta,” He waved the meat in front of her, “This is for you,” then he tossed a piece of meat into her cage. 

Delta’s eyes followed the movement of the meat from Owen’s hands to the floor of her cage before going inside after it. Y/n closed Delta’s gate as soon as her tail was in.

Owen’s eyes never left Blue’s. “Your turn now Blue,” Blue cocked her head to the side, “Work with me here okay? This one is yours.” Owen waved the meat, Blue’s eye flitted to the movement. “You want it? Go get it.” Owen tossed it into her cage. 

Blue immediately ran for it, instantly ripping the meat apart as soon as it touched her lips. 

Owen let out a sigh of genuine relief. The hard part was over. For now his girls were safe. Owen began walking towards the exit, at ease now that Blue and Delta were safe again. 

Y/n pushed the button to close Blue’s gate once she had run in. Once Y/n heard the machinery working to close the door, she let out the worried breath she was holding. She stepped away from the door control panels to smile at Owen, but her smiling dropped once she looked behind him. 

The noise the machinery had been making had stopped, which would normally indicate that the Blue’s door was closed. Only this time, the noise had stopped, yet Blue’s gate was still open. The anxiety that had left Y/n returned, and her eyes widened in dread. Blue had finished her snack, turned around, and fixed her eyes on Owen. 

Noticing Y/n’s change of expression, Owen arched a brow. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Y/n’s expression turned into horror as Bue began trotting out of her cage, then started to run. 

“Owen run!”

“What?” 

“RUN!” Y/n exclaimed again, rushing over to the door panel. 

Seeing the look of pure terror on Y/n’s face, Owen didn’t dare look back, but started sprinting towards the exit. Owen could hear the crunching of dried leaves under his feet as he ran. The trees lining the enclosure meshed into a canopy of green as he dashed by. He could hear the other velociraptor’s calling to each other. The sounds only egged him on to run faster. Owen’s heart pounded in his chest and its beating filled his ears. His heart beat mixed with Y/n’s screams and the look of pure terror on her face caused a surge of adrenaline to rush towards her and the gate. 

“CLOSE THE GATE!” He yelled once he was almost 10 feet away.

Y/n shook her head fervently. “Are you crazy?” She shouted back, brows furrowed and eyes wide.

“Just do it!” Owen replied as he almost neared the open gate.

Y/n’s eyes flitted between Owen and the gate button. She took in a quick breath, then pressed the button to close the gate. The gate then lowered as Owen neared, about 5 feet away. Y/n could still see Blue behind Owen. Blue was reaching her neck out, trying to close the 3 feet distance between her and Owen.

Owen calculated the distance between him and the nearly closed gate before deciding to jump into a dive. He tucked his legs inward as he hit the ground, rolling under the gate just in time for it to shut and keep Blue from biting him. Owen sat up, trying to calm his breathing. His back faced the shut gate. He could feel Blue’s let out irritated huff on the back of his neck, which sent an involuntary shiver of fear down his spine, before hearing her turn around and walk away.

Turning so his back was now facing the solid wall, Owen slumped against it. 

He closed his eyes, breathing in and out deeply before speaking, “That was a close one.”

Y/n pressed her back against the wall too, closing her eyes and copying Owen’s previous actions, “Yeah. No shit.”

[darthkruge]

1 + 2 from prompt list #5 plz 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Anakin Skywalker x Reader ~ Can I Kiss You? (Pt 1)

Prompts: “Have you ever kissed anyone before?” + “Can I kiss you?”

Warnings: A little language, Anakin is a bit of a little shit (affectionately), Reader is kinda shy, both of them are idiots but we love that for them <3

Words: 1.6k

A/N: I assume you wanted this with Ani because he’s basically the only person I’ve been writing for lately but, if not, I’m sorry!! Thank you for sending something in! Also this was so fucking fun to write, I loved it so much. I got carried away a little, my brain kinda ran with it so yeah! Also, this is kinda tooth rotting fluff, even for me, so be prepared.

Part 2 (there is now a sequel!)

(gif not mine)

You and Anakin were partnered together for a mission. It was fairly simple, nothing battle related -- purely diplomatic. Honestly, you weren’t sure why you two were even sent on it; it felt like somewhat of a waste for two Padawans to go on a random mission to Naboo. Even so, if it allowed you to spend more time with Anakin, you didn’t mind.

You had this raging crush on him from the moment you saw him. He was gorgeous and confident without being off-puttingly cocky. He was tall, his hair was soft, his eyes were piercing, and his smile and laugh were contagious. 

Then, as the two of you grew closer, this crush developed into something deeper. You learned of his heart, his kindness, his selflessness, his desires, his needs, his fears. You were able to see the boy behind the prophecy and you truly, unequivocally, loved him. 

“Come on, Y/N, hurry up!” Anakin’s joking tone broke you from your thoughts. You smiled back and ran up to him, playfully hitting his back as you caught up. He took your hand and the two of you continued walking, side by side. 

These displays of affection weren’t uncommon between the two of you. Early on, you saw how he enjoyed your touch, always leaning into it when you’d accidentally brush against him or give him a quick hug after a mission. He, too, saw how you reacted when he put his arm around your shoulders or brushed your hair behind your ear. 

Since the rest of the Jedi frowned upon connections and, thus, weren’t as forthcoming with affection, the two of you were quickly bonded. You were so attuned with each other that you now just knew when the person was searching for that physical connection. It had become natural, the sort of expected comfort that becomes impossible to live without. 

The two of you walked through the gardens by the palace in Naboo, enjoying the sun’s warmth. You’d already talked to the government officials you needed to, attempting to figure out which other planets to get involved in the peace treaties. Thankfully, it went quickly and now you had the rest of the day to spend with Ani before returning home to Coruscant. 

He led you to a secluded bench and plopped down, pulling you beside him. He pulled an apple from a tree and offered it to you. You thanked him and accepted it, allowing the crunchy texture and sweet flavor into your mouth. He watched you, grinning at your excitement. 

“Okay, I’ve got a question for you,” Anakin said.

Okay. This has got to be good. “Shoot, Skywalker.”

“Who was your first?”

You choked on your apple, sputtering at his audacity! Anakin howled at your reaction, coming up behind you to thump your back a few times until you stopped choking. 

“Dumbass!” You yelled, causing Anakin to keel over in another fit of laughs. 

“You’re going to alert the entire palace!” He hushed you, gasping in breaths between his laughs.

You rolled your eyes, elbowing him in the gut. “Hey! Okay, okay, okay,” He said, holding up his hands in mock surrender before taking a pause. “But, seriously! Who was your first?”

“Anakin! That’s- I- Anakin!” You were so taken aback you couldn’t even form words. You were so caught off guard and, also, quite perplexed. “Ani, we’re not allowed to do, you know, that”

Anakin’s lips curled into a playful smirk at your response. “Maker, Y/N, I know! I meant, like, kissing… Who was your first kiss?”

Your face heated up quickly. You were hoping he’d drop it but apparently not. You didn’t want to admit that you hadn’t exactly had the chance to do that yet. You fiddled with your hands and looked away, embarrassed. 

“Wait, have you ever kissed anyone before?”

“No…” You mumbled underneath your breath, still refusing to meet his eyeline.

Now, Anakin’s gaze softened. He never meant to make you feel uncomfortable or judged, he truly thought you had. I mean, look at you! Someone had to have wanted to kiss you before! His hand gently came up to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look at him. 

His gaze saddened when it met yours, seeing how affected you were by his questions “It’s okay, Y/N! You don’t need to feel ashamed, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“I mean, it’s not like I haven’t had options. I totally could have been kissed by now if I wanted to!” You huffed indignantly, crossing your arms. 

Anakin laughed, glad to see some of your fight returning to you. He knew that if you were being defensive and stubborn, you couldn’t be that mad at him. He looked at you for a minute, wondering. He’d been in love with you for as long as he could remember but refused to act on it; he knew how much being a Jedi meant to you and wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that. Even so, he so badly wanted to come home to you each night, to hold you, to be the one you could turn to with any and everything, to be the person you loved and who loved you, always. 

He thought about it for a moment more and decided he might as well try. “Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes widened and you gaped at his question. “You- you want to kiss me?”

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, mentally wondering if this was a good or bad sign. “I, uh, I mean, yeah… You’re really kind and intelligent and, um, super nice to look at… And since you haven’t been I just thought you might wanna…” 

“I think you’re super nice to look at too, Ani,” You teased. You were blushing at his words and practically pinching yourself. You’d wanted to hear them for so long, it almost didn’t feel real. 

He allowed himself to slightly smile, hope creeping into his expression. “Is that a yes?”

You laughed, smiling too. You nodded, looking into his trusting eyes. 

“If you wanna stop, just let me know, okay?” He said, sensing your nerves.

“Okay, Ani”

His fingers grazed over your jaw before guiding it towards him, tilting it slightly. Your eyes closed in anticipation, butterflies ready to burst out of your stomach at any moment. His mouth touched yours and your brain went completely fuzzy. Maker, Kriff, Fuck, Maker!! Is this really happening? 

The kiss was so gentle, so sweet. It was just his lips against yours, nothing more. He didn’t want to frighten you by shoving his tongue down your throat on your first try. He just wanted to make you feel wanted and safe. 

He pulled apart after a moment and looked at you. “Was that okay?” He laughed as your eyes lit up and you nodded excitedly. 

“Can we do that again?” After feeling his lips and being so close to him, you never wanted that sensation to go away. 

“Of course, love” Anakin said quietly, pulling you into him once more. 

This time, he was a bit more intense, lips moving against yours slowly. You felt yourself get lost in him, in his taste and smell. You went on instinct, allowing your hands to weave into his hair. He hummed as you did so, hands finding their way to your waist and pulling you slightly closer. 

He was still extremely careful. As much as he wanted to pour all his passion into this kiss, this moment was about you, not him. He led the kiss, not wanting you to feel like a fish out of water, and smiled into your lips. When you smiled back, Anakin swore his entire body warmed. He was so glad you agreed to do this with him, to allow him to be the person to share this moment with. 

When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and cupped your cheeks. You looked at him shyly and he brushed his thumbs against your cheekbones. 

“You were really good at that, are you sure you’ve never done that before?” He joked. 

You pushed his shoulder back bashfully. “Shut up, Ani!”

“I’m serious,” He laughed, “You were really good!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, baby. You’re amazing.”

You looked at him for a beat. “So,” You said, dragging out the word, “What do we do now?”

“Well, the ship leaves for Coruscant in thirty minutes so…”

“Anakin Skywalker, you know what I mean!”

He chuckled. “Okay, fine! I mean, if you want, of course, we could be together?”

“Like, together together?”

“Only if you want!”

“Do you want?”

Anakin nodded. 

“I, uh, I’d really like that, too, Ani”

He broke out into this big goofy grin and you followed suit. That damn, contagious smile. You knew there would be a million complications. The chances of it working out were practically unfathomable. The Council would kill you both if they found out, you’d never make rank! But you looked into his eyes and thought you could beat the odds. 

Young love had a way of making you feel invincible. He was all you ever wanted. It was as if nothing could ever affect you if you were together. The Council wouldn’t find out, you’d be that one in a million couple, you’d grow old together and be happy and peaceful. It was the most unsure thing you’d ever done and, yet, nothing felt more certain. 

As this realization swarmed round your head, you dove back in, connecting your lips once more. The garden around you faded and the weight of this new secret-relationship disappeared. It was just you and Anakin. Nothing would ever tear you apart.

----

I just made a taglist so if you wanna join... (dm me if you wanna be taken off!)

permanent tags:

@saltybreaddream

anakin tags:

@anakinswhore @kennedywxlsh @coldlilheart @adamgetawaydriver @chokemeanakin @gayidioot @starwars-whore @katelynnwrites @haydens-moles

[twistedmusings]

A/N: Riddle is always so weird for me to write because I do see him as baby but the moment things get romantic I can so see him as the type that just...is more than ready to explore the romantic territory with you? Like yes he is baby but he would be so gentle with the smooches... But I digress.  I am making my way through requests, currently have five in my inbox so I might close it up once it reaches ten. Just to get the ball rolling since I am a baby blog u wu.  Warnings: None! Just tooth rotting fluff!  Straight from the cookbook section of our bountiful library, @lunalasolaris​!

Let me get that book for you! 

“Hey Riddle?” 

“Hm?” 

“What does a pinch mean?” 

Grey eyes look up from the cup of flour he was meticulously trying to measure as you hold up the recipe book in front of him. 

“Does it mean that we just put a little bit of the salt into the cake?” you point at the specific line, tapping it twice to emphasize your point, “Or we grab a pinch with our fingers and just...toss it in there?Cause I can grab a lot of salt in between my fingers if I need to.” 

Riddle frowns as he tries to remember how Trey used to bake some of his previous Unbirthday cakes. It was easy to break down his process but with how quickly he moved the Heartslabyul dorm leader found himself at a loss of what a pinch looked like. Of all the executive decisions he had to make, why was this one so difficult? 

He locked eyes with you, blushing when he saw how close you had gotten before pulling away and dumps the cup of flour into the small mixing bowl. 

"We don't want them to taste salty so we'll put only a small amount. What comes next?" 

"Eggs...three I think. Oh and we need to add them to the dry mix while it is being sifted." you grab the eggs and scoot closer to him as Riddle grabs the sifter, turning around to see you so close once again. 

You hold up the eggs and smile. 

"Ready?" 

It was nerve wracking being here with you. Not just nerve wracking, it was also stress inducing and blood pumping to have you so close after Riddle had come to a definitive conclusion about his feelings about you. It had come at a cost of many sleepless nights and the certain teasings of some of his oldest friends but once Trey sat him down and asked him how he truly felt about you, the words slipped so easily out of his mouth that even he was surprised at the lack of thought in them. 

Riddle likes you. Alot. 

It was the way you talked with him during Unbirthday parties, unbothered by rules and manners as you plopped yourself down next to him and spoke about whatever you had going on that day. Riddle thought that it sort of reminded him of Chenya, his friend always appearing out of nowhere with a similar grin yet his was always filled with mischief while yours was nothing more than a way for you to show how happy you were to see him. 

Or at least he hoped that was the case. 

You smiled at everyone. At Ace and Deuce whenever they did something silly, at Cater whenever he pointed his camera at you, even at Trey whe he would lean down and offer you one of the many pastries he had baked that day. But, and it might just be his own subconscious silently hoping for this, Riddle believed the smile that you had for him was special. The moment your eyes landed on him it was like watching a rose bloom. Those cheeks of yours would turn a soft shade of red as you approached him and pulled him into whatever activity you found yourself doing. 

Maybe that is how he had been roped into this situation with you. He had only dropped by Ramshackle to drop off something you had left in Ace and Deuce’s room but he knew that the moment you tugged on his wrist and pulled him inside, he was more than willing to do whatever it is that you were doing before he showed up. 

That activity being something you two weren’t particularly good at...baking. 

Riddle finally answered your question with a nod, having already dumped the contents into the silver sifter and grabbing onto the small handle. “I’ll start then.”

It had all turned out a mess. Your hands either tended to crack the eggs too softly that they wouldn't crack on the first try or they would be too harsh and immediately break the egg on impact, leaving both of you to fish out the remnants of the shells before Riddle went right back to sifting. Then came the mixing of the ingredients, Ramshackle not necessarily having the fanciest of gadgets you two instead had to mix everything by hand. It was a bit of a chance for him to show himself off for you but the moment he hissed at his muscles cramping up, you took the bowl from him and poked his cheek. “Chill out, dorm leader Rosehearts, I’ll take it from here~” 

How odd. Riddle was used to people calling him by his official title but in your cause it was almost alarming how much he liked it. 

A few more mishaps, staring at the cookbook and one call to Trey and soon you two were on the floor with a bowl of strawberries in between you as the cake baked in Ramshackle’s tiny oven. “Thank you for going along with this.” you munch on the end of a strawberry before continuing, “I was panicking when I first started so it was a heaven sent when you came along.” 

His heart skips a beat as Riddle clears his throat. 

“This is just what a dorm leader should do for another. I’m merely completing my duties.” 

You pout for a moment but grin as you scoot closer to him, “So if I wasn’t a dorm leader I would just be another face in the crowd?” It is like a shock of electricity shoots straight up his back, straightening him out as he corrects you. 

“No! You are still a student here...and someone who has attended many Unbirthdays and tea parties in Heartslabyul! I’m sure that if it wasn’t for that mishap in the dorm selection ceremony, you would have certainly been picked to be in Heartslabyul! To me you are not just someone in the crowd! You are--” He barely registers how close he had gotten, the bowl of strawberries pushed out of the way as you both stare into each other’s eyes. You hadn’t moved back. Your gaze was holding on strong to his as the hum of the oven became the only sound in the room. 

Hands so close, fingertips almost touching. “Riddle--I--I like--”

A ding interrupted your words, the little invisible bubble you and Riddle had created suddenly popping as you stood up and grabbed the oven mitts. 

You grin as you put the small container on the counter, Riddle cutting into the sides with a dull knife in order to unstick it from the pan. How wonderful was it when things came together that when you both watched the warm baked good slide out of its silvery confine you let out a sigh of relief and started to decorate.

“We almost ate half of the strawberries.” Riddle frowns as you grab the bowl from the floor. “I didn’t hear you complaining when I put them down! You are just as guilty as I if Trey doesn’t like the finished product.” 

He stops cutting the fruit into smaller pieces as he watches you spread the whipped cream along the sides of the cake. “...you...are you giving this to Trey?” 

Why was he so nervous? Trey liked to test everybody’s baking skills if they seem to have any or he just liked to tease those who couldn’t cook by teaching them how to figure it out all on their own. Besides, Trey was a third year and needed to concentrate on his future internship and not be issuing challenges to first years--!

“Yeah? He said that tomorrow’s tea party was going to be a ‘bring your own’ kind of thing?” you scoop a dollop of whipped cream on your finger and lick it off, further distracting Riddle. “Tea party…” 

“Yeah...he said you were having one tomorrow. Did you cancel it?” you give him a surprised look, “Have we been struggling with this baking stuff for nothing?” 

No. Riddle knew every single tea party that would be having throughout the academic year. And yes, they were having one tomorrow. There was one detail that didn’t sit quite right with him, however. 

Never in the history of the Heartslabyul dormitory had there been a ‘potluck’ tea party. 

Either those good at baking made the pastries for that day’s tea party or they would not be any tea party at all. 

Great Seven’s knew what would happen if any first years, Ace and Deuce specifically, tried to cook in the Heartslabyul kitchen. There probably wouldn’t be a kitchen anymore. 

Yet Trey had gone out of his way to trick you into baking a cake while also telling Riddle that you had left something behind in the first year’s room and that it was his duty to give it back--had he planned all of this from the sidelines and expected it to work?! 

“...no there is a tea party happening. I guess I just--Trey must have not told me about that certain detail.” 

“Well at least we have something to bring now!” 

You both look at your cake, the cutting of the strawberries a little sloppy as they somewhat slipped on the rushed icing job you had done. 

“...you know I don’t think anyone will notice if I do this.” 

Riddle’s eyes widen when you grab a spoon and dig into the top of the cake. “Hey--!” 

The spoon presses to his lips as you grin while holding it up to him. “Say ‘ah’” 

Was Crowley sure that you didn’t have any sort of magic? With the way he quickly opened his mouth Riddle would have thought he had been hypnotized. “So?” 

He nods at the taste, smiling when he notices the soft sweetness that came with a good slice of strawberry shortcake. “I--I think we did a really good job.” 

You grin and stand on the heel of your feet as Riddle licked his lips to get any extra whipped cream, eyes going right back to staring at you as you tug on his bowtie and bring him closer. “You got some right...here.” 

The pressure of your hold is light as your lips meet his, his body suddenly going lax as he drops his hold on the knife he had been using before so he could turn his body to meet yours. His hold is immediate, a hand touching your lower back and pressing you a tad closer to him as you both pull back to gauge each other’s reaction.

You are both red as roses, cheeks flushing and hearts beating so fast you were sure you could hear each other’s matching rhythms. 

“...did I get it?” 

He should be pushing you away and apologizing for such a needy display. Riddle hadn’t necessarily spent his time doing anything else besides studying and trying to bring pride to Heartslabyul dorm so this territory was rather new to him. 

“Try again...please.” 

Your lips met his again, this time his hold pulling you into the kiss as you cup his face and let him press your back against the kitchen counter. 

His second year was still starting, why not explore this path a bit more? 

[iliveiloveiwrite]

love is all you need // G.W. (celebration fic)

Request: Okay one more cause I love you're writing. Can you do a George x Reader friends to lovers trope with fluff prompts 5 and 14?? I appreciate you and everything you do! Congratulations, you deserve it!! ❤❤ - @mischi3f-manag3d

Fluff 5: “Take my bed for the night. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Fluff 14: “How about a kiss?

A/N: Thank you so much! Here is your request! I haven't written for George in so long! This is a load of fluff and a load of comfort. I’m sorry it’s not longer but I hope enjoy anyway!

Pairing: George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of an argument, mentions of arranged marriages, but it really is a load of fluff.

Word count: 1.8k

You aren’t sure how often you’ve knocked on his door; raised your fist and brayed it against the fading red paint that George always promises he’ll paint over but never does.

It’s no different now as you stand before his door, knocking three times before taking a step back. You glance on either side of you; biting your lip, second-guessing your decision to come here instead of blowing off steam another way.

“(Y/N)?” George greets; opening the door to your harried state, “What’s wrong?”

You blink away the fresh wave of tears; you thought you had cried yourself dry but the familiar burn in the back of your throat proves otherwise. “Can I come in?” You whisper; pointing into the flat he shares with his twin.

George nods; standing aside to let you enter. He won’t outrightly tell you that he’s worried; he’s sure you already know.

“I’m sorry for just showing up,” You mutter; looking down at your hands, shuffling from side to side.

George waves away your apology after shutting the door, “Don’t be. You’re always welcome here.”

You nod your head; throwing yourself onto his couch dramatically only to sit up immediately when you realise the absence of his twin. “Where’s Fred?” You ask.

“At Angelina’s,” George calls, heading to the small kitchen, “Do you want some tea?”

“Love some.” You shout back over the sound of now heating kettle.

George leaves the kitchen; letting the kettle boil. He leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed. With a soft expression on his face, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You raise an eyebrow, “What makes you think something is wrong?”

George scoffs, “Come on now, love. I’ve known you since Third Year, I know when something is bothering you.”

You sigh heavily, “It’s my parents.”

“What happened?”

You go to open your mouth, but you’re interrupted by the kettle beginning to whistle. George holds up a single finger; telling you to hold that thought as he makes the tea. He’s back in no time, however – handing you your mug before settling on the couch next to you.

With a nod of his head, George tells you to continue.

“I know they mean well, and I know they want the best for me but…” You trail off; feeling that all too familiar lump start to form in your throat.

“But?” George prompts after a moment of silence.

“But I just wish they would stop pushing.”

“On what?”

You throw your arms out wide; almost spilling your tea, “On everything! They’ve never been happy with the fact that I chose to become a professor instead of working in the ministry. They never accepted the fact that I was sorted into Gryffindor and not Slytherin like the both of them. To top it all off, they hate the fact they can’t control me.”

George chuckles lightly; placing a hand on your knee, “Love, tell me something I don’t already know.”

You glare at him, “That’s not the worst part.”

“What is?”

Tears build in your eyes; lining them with silver, “They want me to marry,” You rush out in hushed tones.

“Marry?” George asks; voice astounded.

You nod your head; tears slipping, “They’ve got it all fixed apparently. Found a ‘lovely’ suitor; someone I’m sure to love in time,” You frown, “In time? No. I should already be in love with them if I’m to marry them.”

George sighs; taking both your mugs and placing them gently on the coffee table, “You don’t have to marry them.”

“That’s what I told my parents. That’s why I’m here.”

“How bad was it?”

You laugh mirthlessly, “Bad. I’ve never seen them so angry; kept telling me that the betrothal was already arranged and that for me to back out now would be a stain on the family name. After that, I walked out. I didn’t want to see or listen to them.”

“So you came straight to me?”

You nod; slumping against the redhead as the fight leaves your body, leaving you drained and tired. “I didn’t want to see anyone else; I only wanted to see you.”

George’s heart practically sings at your words; sending a shock of electricity through his body. He’s harboured feelings for you for as long as he can remember; he wouldn’t admit this to another soul, but he has spent so long daydreaming what it would be like to the be the one to hold you on a night and then to be the one whispering good morning before kissing you awake.

He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, asking, “What do you plan to do?”

You shrug your shoulders, “The only thing I’m certain of is not going through with the marriage, but I don’t know what will happen with my parents.”

“They need time to cool off,” George comforts, “You all do.”

You nod wordlessly. George shuffles closer to you; wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Do you want to stay the night? Talk to them in the morning?”

You peak up at George from under your lashes. Nodding, you answer, “Please.”

George nods, smiling at you reassuringly, “Take my bed for the night. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You shake your head; holding onto the redhead that little bit tighter, “Stay with me?”

His eyes narrow; unsure, “Are you sure? I don’t mind, it’s quite a comfy couch.”

You roll your eyes at his attempt at humour, standing from said couch and checking the clock, “I’m sure. Let’s go to bed, George.”

George takes your outstretched hand; pulling himself up from the couch. You’re both exceptionally quiet as he leads you to his room; it’s not like you haven’t been in there before, but this meant something more to the both of you.

Dropping your hand, George rifles through his drawers, grabbing some old clothes of his for you to wear through the night.

“Are these okay?” He asks quietly; holding out an old t-shirt and some joggers.

You take them from him; rising up on your tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. Pulling away, you whisper, “Thank you, George.”

Shutting the door to the bathroom, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. The upset and the anger caused by your parents has dissipated leaving behind only excitement and anticipation alight in your eyes. You didn’t think that George would agree to sharing a bed with you despite having done so in the past, but you didn’t want to be alone, and all you wanted more than anything was to be held by him.

The reflection in the mirror smiles at the hope in your face. The reason for being so adamant with your parents about the arranged marriage was that you had already given your heart to another, and he was just outside the door getting ready for bed. Your heart was never stolen by the Weasley; in fact, you gave it quite willingly, handing it over to him unknowingly through your time with him at Hogwarts.

He’s owned your heart and has been the main character in all of your daydreams since you were a teenager worried about essays and Quidditch try outs.

You put George’s t-shirt on; inhaling the familiar scent of gunpowder and honeysuckle.

Leaving the bathroom, you find that George has already slipped into bed. He’s pressed himself against the wall; giving you the option of wanting to leave the bed should you change your mind through the night.

You share a small laugh as you slide into bed next to him; settling under the covers, feeling more at ease now than you had all night.

“It’s going to be okay,” George whispers.

“I know, I believe you,” You reply, and you did. You believe him wholeheartedly; he may throw pranks and make jokes, but George is well aware when he needs to be serious and is always there with open arms and a patient ear.

You feel his shrug under the covers, “Besides, if not, we’ll run away together.”

Smiling, you answer, “An entirely too tempting idea, Weasley.”

He beams at you and with a flick of a switch, George turns out the light and the room is sent into darkness.

There’s something about the dark that makes men brave; that make it easier to confront truths and feelings. There’s something about the dark that is made for lovers; grazes of fingers and the brushes of lips.

It starts with an outstretch of hands; fingers bumping clumsily in the limited light of the room. Smile grow on both faces as they become tangled; his fingers wrapping around yours tightly.

It follows with him bringing your hand to his lips; placing a gentle kiss on the back of it before letting it drop back down to the space between you both.

In the dark, George finally whispers what’s been on the tip of his tongue since you announced it, “Don’t marry him. Fight it, please.”

You turn onto your side. You can just about make out the outline of his figure in the dark, but you don’t need to see his face to know that those words cost him. Even though can’t see you, you shake your head, “I’ll fight it tooth and nail.”

George releases a long sigh; his hand squeezes yours as he says, “I want a chance.”

“A chance at what?” You ask; throat constricting with the hope rushing up from your stomach.

“A chance to be with you,” He whispers; the words taking shape and filling the room. He runs a hand down his face, “Merlin, (Y/N), I’m mad for you.”

“You are?”

He nods; moving closer to you. You meet him halfway; almost startling when you feel his body align itself with yours.

“I’m mad for you too as it happens,” You comment lightly; your voice filled with emotion.

The thick tension leaves the room upon the uttering of your words leaving behind an atmosphere filled with relief and happiness. George laughs as he turns onto his side, utterly delighted at your words; tangled hands forgotten as he reaches for you. One of his hands slips underneath you as the other wraps around your waist; he holds you to him, pressing kiss after kiss to your hair.

You fist a hand in his t-shirt; the other one slipping underneath, running your nails across the toned expanse of his stomach. He shivers at the feel of your touch, twining your legs together so there isn’t a part of you that isn’t touching.

Tilting your head back, you run your nose up the length of his neck. Humming at the intoxicating scent of his skin – the honeysuckle becoming stronger the closer you are to him.

“George?”

He hums; arms instinctively tightening around you, “Yes?”

A wicked grin breaks out across your face; all thoughts about parents and marriage disappear as you look into the face of the man you love and ask, “How about a kiss?”

George doesn’t need to be asked twice.

******** General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @birdie-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @msmimimerton @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @acciotwinz @kashishwrites @kylosleftbuttcheek @xfirstfemale-marauderx @dreaming-about-fanfictions @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon

George Weasley taglist: @susceptible-but-siriusexual

[holylulusworld]

The taming of the shrew (5)

Summary: You and your alpha live your life the way you want to. 

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Characters: Mary Winchester, John Winchester, OFC's

Warnings: pregnant reader, nesting, scenting, protective Dean/angry Dean, cuddling & snuggling, annoying mother-in-law, daddy!Dean feels, light smut, unprotected sex

Y/M/N = your mother's name

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​

The taming of the shrew masterlist

“Y/N, maybe you should place the pillows over there. This way Dean could-“ your mother growls low in her throat, glares at Mary who dared to nag about the nest you made on the bed Dean built for you and his growing family. “Why didn’t Dean buy a bed? This is so – raw.”

“My mate built the bed with his hands. It’s beautiful, comfortable, and large enough for us and the pups. My alpha wants our children to sleep with us after I gave birth,” you quip, ignoring Mary doesn’t like the bed. “Look he carved our names into the headboard.”

“Dean did a great job! I sent pictures to my husband and he said that he never saw a better bed. He’s so talented,” your mother swoons. “You must be proud of your son. He’s such a good mate, caring boyfriend and I know he’ll be a wonderful father.”

Mary is not used to people praising her son or that she doesn’t get to have the last word. She looks around the bedroom Dean created for you, not missing her son put a lot of effort and love into it.

“It’s nice, I guess,” Mary says, watching you place a few shirts and plaids onto the bed. You had to remove your nest in the bedroom and Dean still has some scratches as you fought him with tooth and nails. “Maybe you need more blankets.”

“Mom,” Dean snarls, stepping inside your bedroom. “I think Y/N needs some time alone in our bedroom. She wants to make a nest. Do not disturb my omega.” Chest puffed Dean waltzes toward you to stand close to you.

“Dean is right,” your mother coos, grasping for Mary’s hand. “We should leave the young people alone. He’s such a caring alpha.” your mother snickers, watching Mary’s face fall. “We will give you time, Y/N.”

“Why don’t you use something else, omega?” Dean whines, watching you steal more clothes out of his wardrobe. “You’ve got all my favorite shirts and plaids. I only got no matching socks left and now you want my last plaid.”

“I love it, alpha,” humming Dean longingly looks at the nest you created. “It’s soft and look,” pointing at Dean’s side of the nest you purr low in your throat. “I placed it on your side of the bed, along with your socks.”

“My socks,” Dean laughs, glancing at the socks framing the nest on his side of the bed. “Your nest looks like art.”

“Ours, Dean,” grasping for Dean’s hand you place it onto your belly. “This is for you, me and the pups, not just me,” nodding Dean closes his eyes when he feels your babies kick. “How about we test it when our mothers are gone?”

“Did my mom annoy you again?” moving his arms around you Dean purrs when you rest your head against his chest. “I can set her straight again. If you want me to, I can use my alpha voice.”

“I used my omega voice last time. Mary and I talked things out. I made her see she’s not going to decide anything involving you, me, or our children. She still struggles and needs help,” giggling you run your hand over Dean’s chest. “But my mom volunteers to help Mary adapt.”

“God, I love you and your mom,” looking up at Dean you fist his shirt. “I love you more, I swear. You will always come first, you and our kids.”

“I know you do,” pecking Dean’s lips you smirk when his hands become brave. He moves his fingers over your back, tickles your skin before he gropes a handful of your ass. “Dean!”

“Baby girl,“ whining you lick into Dean’s mouth. “I need you, sweetheart, omega…my love,” your hands fist his shirt, drag him toward the nest you prepared. “On your nest?”

“Our nest, alpha,“ you nuzzle his cheek, moaning when you catch his scent. “Lock the door and we can test it, Dean. I want to see if we feel comfortable on our nest.” giggling you watch your alpha stumble toward the door, already fighting to get his pants open. “Hurry, alpha. I’m waiting for you.”

“I’m on it, Y/N. Lemme just lock the door and-“ his pants drop to the ground, followed by his shoes and shirt. Your alpha snickers, watching you wiggle your ass on the bed, sticking it out to lure him toward your nest. “Fuck, baby girl don’t do this to me.“

“Come here, lover boy,“ you smirk when Dean almost trips over the carpet to get to your nest. He snarls, watching you bury your face into his plaids on your nest. “We don’t have all day, alpha.”

“Patience, sweetheart. I need to check if you are ready for me,” moving behind you Dean looks at you on your nest. He purrs, enjoying the sight of his pregnant mate waiting for him while he runs his fingers through your folds. “You’re so wet, naughty girl.”

“I’m a pregnant omega, Winchester. Now get ready, I’m on the edge for two days,” you whine, looking over your shoulder. “Give me what I need, Dean.”

“Naughty girl,” he carefully nudges at your entrance, watching you throw your head back when he inches his way inside your body. “Taking my cock so good.”

“So good,” pushing back onto Dean’s length you giggle when he grips your thighs carefully. Usually, he would roughly let you feel his dominance but since you are having his pups, he’s gentle and afraid to hurt you.

“I know I’m damn good, sweetheart,” you giggle at Dean’s words, slowly start to rock your body with your mate. “Do you want to shock our moms? I could make you scream.”

“DEAN, don’t you dare to shock my mom,” your alpha hums, grinning when you start to moan his name. He thrusts slowly, drags his thick cock along your walls to bring you over the edge before your mothers start to wonder what takes you so long.

“Love seeing you all stretched out on my fat dick,” you groan. “Do you know how tight your little pussy feels around me when I knot you? I could write poems about it.”

“Fucking pervert,” Dean snorts, not giving away he tried to make you laugh. “But don’t stop now, Baby. I’m so close.”

“Already?” speeding up Dean growls when you clench tightly around him after only a few more thrusts. “Damnit, sweetheart, I wanted to go for longer,” he whines, filling you seconds later. Dean carefully pulls out, admiring your sweat-slicked skin for a moment.

“I needed that,” you grin, rolling to your side to make space for Dean. “I guess, we’ll need to change the sheets later.”

“Smells like us,” purring low in his throat Dean lies behind you, moving closer enough to scent you. “Maybe we should have a shower and join our mothers. I don’t want them to walk in on us butt-naked.”

“Aw, you’re such a prude,” you giggle. “Don’t you want your mommy to see you’re a grown man who likes to have sex with his mate? I bet you want her to believe you’re still her good boy.”

“I never was a good boy,” pecking your neck, nibbling at your skin Dean grunts. “I was a rebel and good with the ladies before you came along.”

“You’re lucky I came along, or you would’ve spent the rest of your life alone up here. Grumpy alpha,” humming your mate kisses along your shoulder. “Now let’s have a shower…”

“Why does the nest look so – chaotic?” Mary watches you drape another plaid over Dean’s side of the bed. “Wasn’t the red plaid on the other side and why are the socks on the ground?”

“I like it messy,” Dean says, grinning at you. If he could, he would tell his mother your nest looks messy as you fucked on it not half an hour ago, but he bites his tongue. “And we don’t need socks on the nest but our feet.”

“I see,” your mother chuckles, knowing you too well. “I guess our children know best. I think they love the new nest without a doubt,” giving you a wink your mother walks out of the bedroom. “How about we focus on dinner? My husband and yours will be here soon.”

“Right,” gritting her teeth Mary looks at the nest, wondering why you let Dean remove the socks. “Food is ready soon, Dean. You better hurry up and help Y/N down the stairs.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean smirks, holding out his hand. “I will make sure my omega walks down the stairs safely. Nothing will happen to her on my watch.”

“What if she goes into labor? Wouldn’t it be safer to find a house closer to ours, in an actual town? Not out here in the middle of nowhere,” Mary still didn’t give up the dream to have her son, you, and her grandchildren close enough to see you every day.

“Mom, a midwife lives down the road. Her husband is a doctor and if I call an ambulance, they’ll be here in no time,” grunting Dean wraps his arm around your waistline. “Y/N loves the house, just like me. It’s not even an hour away. Other kids move to another state or county, mom.”

“Fine, fine,” Mary sighs, wringing her hands. “I just want my family as close as possible. We don’t want to miss a moment in your life.”

“Oh, I think you want to miss a few moments,” grinning Dean wiggles his eyebrows. “And I can tell, those moments are not that rare.”

“DEAN WINCHESTER,” his mother scolds your alpha. “We have guests! Don’t talk about-,” she struggles to say the word, so you whisper ‘sex’ and she nods, sighing deeply. “I raised you better.”

“Still, I became a dirty boy,” you love the way Dean tries to rile his mother up. “Come on, mom. I know you and dad do it more than once a month.”

“Dean!” this time you scold your alpha seeing Mary’s face turn crimson. “We don’t talk about our parents' love life within these walls. Now help me get the dishes ready.”

“Yes, ma’am,” giggling you walk toward the kitchen, Dean hot on your heels.

“They are perfect together,” your mother swoons, watching Dean kiss your hair softly when you try to grab a plate. “Look at them, young love.”

“Can you not talk them into moving to town?” Mary watches Dean whisper something in your ear, making you giggle. “I did a great job bringing them together, Y/M/N. Now we need to stick together and get our kids back.”

“Not so loud, Mary,” your mother shushes. “Y/N can never know I helped you find her true mate. She would still be sad and lonely. I saw it in her eyes anytime one of her friends got mated.”

“We will talk about this later, Y/M/N. I want my Dean and your daughter to move into the house I bought at the end of the street. It’s safe, large, and-,” Mary sighs when you tell Dean how much you love your home. “They won’t move in…”

“No, they won’t,” your mother smiles when you check on Dean’s neck, soothing the scratches you left with a soft kiss. “Look at them, Mary. Do I wish they live right next to me? Of course, but Y/N and Dean are adults, mated and expecting their babies. Let’s just be on the sideline and watch them.”

“We are almost done,” you coo, looking at your mother. “Something wrong, mom?” While John and your father talked about the bed Dean built for you, your mother and Mary watched you and your mate.

“No, no,” your mother sniffles. “You’re just glowing since you are expecting, sweetheart,” you whine, rushing toward your mom to hug her tightly. “My little girl will have her own babies soon and I’m just a little emotional.”

“Must be an omega thing,” Dean grumbles, watching you cry with your mom. “Last week Y/N cried as the snowflakes are too pretty and the hot chocolate I made for her was too delicious.”

“It was Dean,” you sniffle, turning your attention toward your alpha. “You put tiny marshmallow hearts inside,” Dean groans, rolling his eyes when you hide your face in his chest. “How could I be mad you ate the last slice of pie if you do such a cute thing.”

“I’m not doing cute things,” not wanting to let John, Sam, and your father know he’s weak for you, Dean tries to act tough. “I just need to make sure my omega is safe and happy,” John laughs when Dean tries to lie about all the sweet things he does for you.

“Son, save it. We all had to give up our rough façade to please our omegas. I had to write a fucking poem to earn my mark on her neck,” John grumbles. “Mary was a wild and feisty omega, just like your Y/N. I guess that’s the reason she likes her so much.”

“John, that’s a secret,” Mary tuts. “Don’t tell anyone I was a wild child when we were young,” swooning John pecks Mary’s lips, remembering their first dates.

“How about dinner?” Dean tries to not think about his parents having sex. He shudders, scrunching up his nose. “I’m hungry…”

“Finally, alone,” you crawl on top of your alpha to snuggle into his chest. “I love my parents and your family, but they are exhausting.”

“How do you feel, sweetheart? Do you need me to get you anything? Maybe a late-night snack?” Dean snickers when you pat his chest.

“I could have some chicken and dessert. Maybe you should get something too?” you smirk when Dean pecks your cheek before he carefully helps you sit on your nest. “Get two plates, alpha.” Running your hands over your swollen belly you purr. “Your son is kicking me! This means he wants more pie. Don’t let him wake your daughter.”

“I’ll get him some pie,” giggling you watch Dean run toward the door. “Give me a minute, Y/N. Your alpha will get you your food…”

“That’s perfect,” your back rests against Dean’s chest. He placed a bamboo tray with fold-away legs in front of you. While you relax against his warm chest, Dean feeds you with your favorite food. “I could get used to letting you feed me.”

“I like to pamper you, sweetheart. How about I rub your back later? Or your belly,” yawning you pat Dean’s thigh.

“We will eat the food and sleep later. You need your rest too, Dean. In not three months there will be two crying babies keeping us awake. Let’s enjoy the silence for a while,” Dean hums, hiding he can’t wait to hear his babies cry for the first time.

“I’ll rub your belly later,” he decides, pecking your hair before he stuffs more food into your mouth. “Now let me have some pie.”

>> Part 6

SPN Forever Tags

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--------------------------------------

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags   

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@givecki​

[honeypirate]

Honey, as a fellow All Might simp, I send you this request. I've had a rough couple of days. Please gift me the most tooth rotting fluff you can provide of our sweet Toshi

Okay love you bye!!!!💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

Okay okay I love love you thank you for this!! I struggled with many ideas and ended up with this so I hope you like it!!

Toshinori Yagi/All Might x Reader

💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

Your relationship with him started off complicated, you were mainly work acquaintances who occasionally did hero work together, but the rest of the time you found yourself around him resulted in embarrassing moments.

Almost every day you passed him in the hallway, but once you bumped into him when he was carrying a box of something, you laughed awkwardly and went to step to the side, smiling a little when he did the same thing. When you both stepped to the side again you laughed, the next time it happened you shook your head with more laughter “okay okay” you say and place your hands gently on his shoulders before slowly leading and turning in a circle with him “there we go” you say and he laughs “sorry about that” he says and you shake your head “no worries” after that instance you developed a major crush on the symbol of peace which makes the rest of the awkward interactions that much more painful.

One day when you were late to your class you rushed out the door of the teachers apartments only to hit him in the face with the door, effectively giving him a nose bleed. “I’m so sorry All Might!” you say as you fret over him, you wish you had something to give him for the blood, you tried to give him your jacket for it but he refused. “Oh god is your mouth bleeding too?! I feel terrible!” “my mouth isn't because of you! It just happens sometimes!” he says quickly, chuckling awkwardly “aren’t you.. Uhh aren't you late for class?” he says, holding his nose with his hand, and you gasp, swearing under your breath you bow deeply to him “I am so sorry All Might please forgive me!” before taking off again down the classrooms, kicking yourself for making the man you had a big fat crush on bleed.

Later that week you were in the cafeteria with Midnight, you were chewing on your lip as you stared across the room as All Might got something from Lunch Rush, Midnight was talking about something but you weren’t paying attention, you were too focused on the symbol of peace and how you could make it up to him for giving him a nose bleed.

You brought your cup to your lips to take a sip “why are you staring at All Might so hard?” Midnight says right next to your ear, she had leaned over to you to see who you were staring at that had you so entranced, All Might looks over when he heard his name just at the moment you accidentally spit your drink all over. “Shut up!” you whisper hiss at her and she chuckles as she hands you a stack of napkins. You clean up your mess and then cover your face with your palms as you groan. “Tell me” she says and you sigh before dropping your hands and telling her everything, right down to your big fat crush on the retired hero.

He saw your accident and it made him smile, the way your cheeks flushed pink as you wiped off your chin, he held his breath, it was so adorable. He had to really fight hard to not spit up blood because of how much you amused him.

A couple weeks later, you still had no idea how to repay him, and now you were too embarrassed to know how to talk to him and with every passing day it gets further and further from the incident causing you to feel even more embarrassed and uncomfortable.

When you exited the school you sighed at the slushy snow falling from the sky, by the time you got back to the teachers apartments you would look like a freezing wet rat. “You can walk with me if you want” his soft voice behind you sent blood to your cheeks, when you turned around you noticed his blushing cheeks as well and it relaxed you a little bit as a small smile found its way to your lips “really?” you ask, a little wary, “of course” he nods with a bright smile and unwraps the umbrella before opening it and placing it over his shoulder, offering you his arm.

The walk back would take about 10 minutes, walking slowly on the slippery sidewalks, you were really grateful to have his arm to hold so you could stay steady. The walk was quiet, you didn’t know what to say and you were racking your brain thinking of something, anything. “I’m-” “so-” you start at the same time and then chuckle together “you go” he says and you smile awkwardly, your stomach in nervous knots, “I’m sorry again for hitting you with the door, i've been trying to find a way to make up for it but- Ah!” you yelp as you almost slip and fall down, his arm snakes around your waist and he pulls you tighter against his side to keep you up right, you wrap your arm around his back as well as your feet slide around. Once you get your feet under you again he smiles “you okay?” he asks and you laugh, your cheeks red, “thank you All Might” you say “call me Toshi, or Toshinori, if you’re comfortable, that is” he looks down at the sidewalk, his cheeks flushing from the nervous butterflies in his own stomach.

“Toshi” you say, a little quietly to test it, his heart races at the sound of his name from your lips, it sounded sweet and sent shivers down his spine, “As I was saying, is there any way I can make it up to you?” he thinks for a moment then says, “this, this is enough”, his hand around your waist pulls you in to his side again for emphasis and you feel your heart drum against your ribs and in your ears “oh” you say softly “it is?” you ask, turning to look up at him and holding his side a little tighter. He turns his face to you with a soft smile, “it is”

The next week after a particularly difficult villain attack, the teachers went out to drink and relax and blow off some of the anxiety that came from the fight. You went to the bar to get another drink, purposefully walking up next to where All Might was, “how are you?” he asks and you place your hand on his arm “I’m better now” his cheeks flush and your smile brightens before your eyes focus on the door behind him and you notice your ex walk in “what happened?” he asks as he watches your expression drop, when you focus back on him you get an idea, you lean in close to him “Toshi” you say into his ear “would you do me a favor and pretend to be my date tonight? My ex just walked in and he’s-” his arm wraps around your waist, he watches the way your skin on your neck and shoulders erupt in goosebumps because of his action and he smirks “yeah don’t worry about it. I am here for you” he grins and you blush with a nod “thank you so much!” you say and lean in, kissing his cheek causing his heart to drum against his ribs.

It was incredibly easy to fall into S/O ways with him, he had his hand on your hip the whole night, you leaning into him as you talked with your friends, you texted Midnight what was up and she told the rest of your friend group so they would play along, you felt your ex’s eyes on you the whole night from where he sat at the bar, an uneasy feeling in your chest.

When All Might went to get you another drink you saw your ex move to come over to you, as he walked through the crowd you panicked, moving to walk in the other direction, to put as many people between you as you could as you made your way over to Toshinori, when you got to him he had his drinks in each hand, you could see your ex in the corner of your eye as you placed your hands on All Might’s neck, your eyes asking him if this was okay as you leaned in closer, he nodded once knowing what you were asking, and then leaned the rest of the way until your lips were touching.

Kissing him was soft, your heart exploded into butterflies as your stomach flopped it’s way out of the knots it had tied itself into. your hands found their way buried into his unruly hair at the nape of his neck as you deepened the kiss, his tongue swipes your bottom lip and you chuckle as you let him in, your tongues swirling slowly together before you pull away, giving him one last peck before backing up and looking up at him with a starstruck smile.

He was looking at you with a look of adoration, his smile similar to the one he used as the symbol of peace to assure people he would protect their lives, except this time you were pretty sure it meant he would protect your heart.

You felt lost in a world that was just you and him until someone next to you clears their throat, “y/n?” your ex says and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows raised and you cock your head “do we know you?” you ask in a sweet voice and he looks like you just kicked him, “it’s..it’s me” he says and you hum, taking your drink from All Might’s hand, you turn back to look at your ex. “I’m sorry, I don’t know you. Excuse us, we have to get going” you lace your hand with All Might’s and you both make your way back to your table with the rest of the teachers, you watch as your ex storms out of the bar.

He walks you home after that, his hand never leaving yours. You walk through the park that is next to the school and you stop at the fountain that’s now off because of the time of night “do you have any coins?” you ask and he laughs “for what?” he digs in his pocket and pulls out a few and you get excited, squealing as you dance a little on your toes. “Okay, you take one, whisper your wish to it, and then toss it over your shoulder into the fountain. Then your wish will come true” you take a coin from his hand and then walk around to the other side of the fountain so he wouldn't hear your wish.

You bring the coin to your lips “I wish that this is more than a fake date” you whisper and then kiss the coin, tossing it over your shoulder. The plop sound as it hits the water echoes as his coin falls in as well, You turn around and make eye contact with him across the fountain, the light from the moon above lighting up your features, both of you smiling at each other. He makes his way around to you and takes your hand again.

“What did you wish for?” you ask even though you know it’s against the rules to tell “if i tell you then it won't come true” you chuckle, your free hand coming up to hold on to his arm and you lay your head on his shoulder “i wonder if we wished for the same thing” you say quietly as you watch the moon’s reflection in the still water.

“I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours” he says, breaking the silence of the walk as you get to your apartment door, you chuckle and take his other hand so you were holding them both between you guys. You look up into his eyes, “you first” you whisper and he laughs “at the same time” he says and takes a step towards you so your toes were touching, you leaned into him and stood a little on your tiptoes as you start to count down together, his warm breath hitting your cheeks “3..2..1” and then your lips connected.

You drop his hands and bury your fingers in his soft hair that you loved, his hands wrap around your lower back as he pulls you into his chest. You moan softly as his tongue enters your mouth, he lets out a sigh into your mouth as you pull his head down gently so you could press your lips harder into his. His kisses are hungry, like he was trying to drink you in and not waste a drop, one of his hands goes up to your neck, brushings his fingers softly across your skin.

You felt spellbound, like magic was flowing through your veins, this was a kiss for you both, not to scare away an ex in a bar as you pretended you were together, there was nothing about this that was a ruse. You felt like you had carved out a moment in time together that was just yours, it felt like your hearts were beating in the same rhythm, that you were sharing the same energy.

When you pull back you’re both smiling as he presses his forehead against yours, you feel giddy, like you’re full of pure magic, “to clarify, my wish was that you felt the same way I do” he whispers and you chuckle “my wish was that this was more than a fake date” his lips brush against yours again, just a sweet peck before he pulls back to look into your eyes “go on a real date with me tomorrow?” you nod “yes please” he pulls you into his arms and hugs you goodnight, you hear his heart racing as you place your head against his chest.

You were to meet him at the cafe you loved downtown before he took you somewhere that he wouldn't tell you, a surprise that he wouldn’t give up no matter how much you tried to guess, as you get to the cafe you stop outside, looking at your reflection in the glass as you fix your hair and lick your lips before your eyes focus on him at the table on the other side of the glass, a smile on his lips and a look of pure adoration in his eyes, you grin at him and raise your hand to wave with your fingers before heading inside, your body filled with butterflies and excitement as you open the door to what you hoped would be something that lasts forever.

[loveissupernatural]

                                         To Love in a Foreign Land

                                            Draco Malfoy x reader                                 

Chapter One: The Letter

[ Read Part 2 here ] 

The day had finally come.

It came in the flurry of an owl’s wings, in the nervous vibration of your sweaty palms.

A delicious breakfast had just been served by your mother that sunny summer morning in suburban America, your fourth term at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry only recently finished. Loud, impatient tapping on the kitchen window glass made you choke on your coffee.

“Mom! Ch-check if it’s from H-Hogwarts!” you managed to cough, pointing frantically at the window. Your mother bolted out of her chair at the kitchen table so you can recover.

She squealed for you, letting the gorgeous but exhausted-looking owl into your kitchen as quickly as she could. It landed in front of you on the table, holding out its leg with what could only be described as relief. Your shaking hands untied the cream-colored envelope from the owl’s ankle, and as soon as you did, it fluttered to the large cage in the corner of the room. Your silver-grey owl, Cinna, hooted indignantly at the unexpected visitor that was gulping from her water bowl.

“Now, Cinna, be nice. He’s had a long journey,” your mother said, wagging her finger. Cinna would have rolled her eyes if she could.

“Mom,” you squeaked, “this is it, this has to be it. I’m finally gonna know.”

You’d decided halfway through your fourth year at Ilvermorny that you wanted to take part in the International Wizarding Student Exchange Program, or I.W.S.E.P. It was a decision that you didn’t make lightly – you’d discussed it at length with your teachers and with your mom. You loved Ilvermorny with all of your heart and soul, after all, it was your home. But you also knew that the world was much bigger, that there was so much in the wizarding world that you hadn’t seen and hadn’t experienced. As a newly 15 year-old, you felt somehow ready for things to change.

Of course, you didn’t want too much change, which is why Hogwarts was at the top of your list. Ilvermorny was modeled after it, and you didn’t have to worry about a language barrier. Hogwarts contained four houses, just like your school, and was a large castle in the middle of the mountains, just like yours. You were ready to experience new things and new people, in a new (but somewhat similar) place. You had roots there.

The Headmistress of Ilvermorny, Celestia Pukwould, had one final meeting with all prospective exchange students before the end of term. The day exams ended, you and a small group of upcoming fifth years were invited to her large study. She pressed the importance of upholding your school’s good reputation as you traveled, to be a shining example of what it was to learn magic from America’s impressive magical education system. Only one of your peers was requesting Hogwarts as their first choice too, a quiet girl that you hadn’t spoken to much over the years named Eleanor.

After the other potential exchange students left her office, Headmistress Pukwould requested for you and Eleanor to stay behind for a bit.

“Ladies, I have sent an owl to Professor Dumbledore himself expressing my full confidence in you two,” she had said, standing from her ornate high-back chair that sat in front of her fireplace. She twirled her wand between her long fingers absentmindedly, fixing you and Eleanor with a kind yet serious stare. “You two are some of the brightest witches in your class. I told him so. I have known Albus Dumbledore for many years, and he is by far one of the most talented wizards alive today. You would be very lucky to learn magic at his school.”

You and Eleanor nodded profusely, eyes wide. While Headmistress Pukwould was a kind woman, she was also not to be trifled with, and her word backing your acceptance at Hogwarts held much weight.

“Don’t disappoint me, ladies,” she said, the smile fading from her face. She tapped her wand on her nails once, sighed, then turned back to the fireplace. “Have a wonderful summer. Owls containing your acceptance or rejection should arrive to your homes within the next few weeks.”  Her tone was final. You were dismissed.

You flashed back to your bright kitchen, took a deep breath and let it back out in a shaking sigh. Your fingers gently traced the refined emerald green writing. You flipped the envelope over and touched the blood-red wax seal, the crest of Hogwarts. Your hands paused.

“Mom, what if I don’t get in?” You’d spoken your greatest fear aloud.

She smiled at you, almost a little sadly, and came to rest a hand on your shoulder and a kiss on your head. “They’d be idiots not to accept you, Y/N.”

“What do you think Dad would say? If they said no?” you all but whispered, a familiar ache rising in the back of your throat. Your father had attended Hogwarts over two decades ago before he moved to America and met your No-Maj mother.

Your mother wrapped her arms around you from behind, pressing her cheek to yours and rocking you gently.

“He would think they’re idiots, too, honey,” she said, a grin in her voice. Your father loved his alma mater, so to imagine him saying anything negative about the school was enough to make you laugh. But you knew she was right, your father had been your biggest fan.

“I miss him,” you said quietly. Your thumb ran over the wax seal again.

“I know, baby. I do too,” she whispered, kissing your cheek. “But he’d be so proud of you, no matter what that letter says. Okay?”

You nodded. You’d lost your father two years ago, but the wound still felt fresh most days. You’d be lying if you said that going to Hogwarts wasn’t an attempt to feel him again, in some form or fashion.

“Here goes nothing,” you breathed, slipping your finger underneath the sturdy paper and ripping it away from the seal. Your heart pounded in your ears like a bass drum as you pulled out the parchment, catching a glimpse of the neat scroll in the same dark green ink. Your mother’s hands tightened on your shoulders.

Dear Miss Y/N Y/L/N,

           We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

           All students accepted to our institution through the I.W.S.E.P. (International Wizarding Student Exchange Program) will be required to travel via portkey on the evening of 29 July. Upon arrival to London, arrangements will be made for you to stay in the Leaky Cauldron before gathering your supplies on 30 July. A representative from the school will assist you in procuring the necessary books and equipment for term, beginning 1 September. You will be expected to arrive at King’s Cross Station, Platform 9 ¾, no later than 09:00 AM on 31 July. Bring all necessary luggage and equipment.

           You will find an enclosed list of all required literature and materials for Year Five.

           We will expect an owl containing your confirmation no later than 20 July. We are honored to invite you into our sacred halls of magical learning.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

 You lowered the letter, disbelief coursing through your veins. It was real, truly real. You were now officially a Hogwarts student.

After at least a solid 20 minutes of dancing around the kitchen with your mother, you scribbled a quick confirmation and laid it by the feet of the tired Hogwarts owl.

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to leave for another few days,” you said, answering the owl’s accusatory glare. He hooted ruefully and tucked his head underneath his large wing, ignoring Cinna’s still wary stare.

Your mother excused herself from the kitchen shortly after, attempting and failing to hide the proud tears in her eyes. You hugged the Hogwarts letter to your chest, breathing in the scent of the still stiff parchment. Slowly, you walked out to the empty living room and paced to the fireplace mantle that contained family portraits of all shapes and sizes, some moving in their frames and others standing still.

With tears tickling the corner of your eyes, you picked up your favorite picture of you and your dad. You were six years old, missing a tooth and laughing hysterically, while your father conjured glowing butterflies that danced around your head. The glow of his happy smile outshined those butterflies any day, you thought. You gently stroked his smiling face.

“Well, it’s official, Dad,” you whispered, a single tear sliding down your cheek. “I’m going to Hogwarts.”

                     ______________________________________

That summer passed more quickly than you would have ever expected. Your friends from Ilvermorny came to visit as often as possible, taking advantage of every moment they could grab with you before you left for an entire year. Many days were spent wandering nearby cities and towns, No-Maj and magical alike, with your school friends. You ate as many cliché American meals as you could and soaked up every drop of sunshine possible by the pool. You always looked better with a bit of a tan, and you doubted that you’d be getting much strong sun at Hogwarts.

“So, what House do you think you’ll be sorted into?” Eleanor asked you one afternoon. You’d invited her to stay a week with you and your mother in early July. You two would be the only Americans at Hogwarts in the upcoming year, and you both thought that building a friendship with one another would be nothing but beneficial. Being so far from home, you needed to have each other’s backs.

You were both sitting on the edge of the pool, drinking fresh lemonade and dangling your feet in the water. You took a long sip through your brightly colored straw.

“Good question,” you said, staring at the rippling blue water in thought. “I’ve heard rumors of what each house represents, but how true is it really? I mean, we know at Ilvermorny that more than one House can pick you, and that you can make the decision for yourself. Do you ever wonder if people pick the right one? Think it’s like that at Hogwarts?”

“I don’t know,” Eleanor said quietly. She seemed a little nervous at the thought. “What if we don’t get sorted at all? What if we’re too old?”

“I mean, surely that wouldn’t happen,” you tried to say confidently. “They wouldn’t subject us to public sorting if there was a chance of us getting rejected, right? Talk about embarrassing.”

“I’m sure you’ll get sorted,” she said with an admiring tone. “Everyone remembers what happened when you stepped up to the Knot on our first day.”

You remembered that day with a strange and heady combination of pride and trepidation. When you stepped up to the large Gordian Knot engraved into the shining marble floor of the circular sorting chamber, everything changed for you. For the first time in over a decade, all four large wooden carvings came to life, and the room went dead silent. You’d never felt so many eyes on you, boring into the back of your skull, wondering what made you so special and what House you would choose.

The gem set into the head of the Horned Serpent glowed, the Thunderbird beat its large wings, the Wampus roared and the Pukwudgie raised its arrow into the air. The carvings themselves seemed to stare a hole through you.

The four Ilvermorny Houses have been described as each representing a different part of the human being; Horned Serpent represents the mind and favors scholars; Wampus represents the body and favors warriors; Thunderbird represents the soul and favors adventurers; Pukwudgie represents the heart and favors healers.

You were overwhelmed in every sense of the word. At the small and awkward age of 11, you truly didn’t feel that well-rounded. You were certain that, somehow, these magical carvings had made a mistake.

“What made you choose Thunderbird, by the way?” Eleanor asked curiously, breaking you from your reverie.

“Honestly… I’m not totally sure,” you shrugged bashfully. Talking about this always made you uncomfortable. “Thunderbird is supposed to represent the soul, right? I guess I think that everything is rooted in the soul. We wouldn’t be human without them.”

Eleanor had been chosen by Horned Serpent, but nodded in agreement. “I guess that makes sense. I don’t know what I would have done if I were you.” She laughed a bit uneasily. “At least my choice was easy – I didn’t have one.”

In many ways, you found yourself wishing that only one carving had chosen you. Sure, it’s a bit less flattering, but much less stressful. The pressure of being that student, the once-in-a-decade student that was supposed to accomplish amazing things, was almost suffocating. As a child, you had a mountain of expectations piled on top of you from the moment those four carvings came to life. You couldn’t make a mistake.

In your second year, when your father died, so many of those expectations crushed you in a way that they never had before. His death weighed on you more than anything ever had, and the strength of his support was gone and left you breaking underneath the heavy cinderblocks of watchful eyes. Your grades suffered, and so did your relationships. You shut down.

Only when a year passed after your father’s death did you begin to find yourself again. With the help of your understanding teachers and a loving group of friends, you were able to establish a better academic standing within Ilvermorny. Not that anyone held your lapse against you – after all, you were a 12 year-old that had lost a parent. But you were still that kid, the one that all four Houses wanted, and you’d proven that you were far from perfect.

“What House do you want to be in at Hogwarts?” you asked Eleanor. She smiled, quiet in thought as she threw her brown hair into a messy ponytail.

“Really, I’d be happy with anything. But I’ve heard Ravenclaw is similar to Horned Serpent, academically focused and stuff.” She took a gulp of cold lemonade and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “What about you?”

“My dad was a Hufflepuff, so that would be nice I guess. I don’t know. Let’s just hope the Sorting Hat doesn’t explode,” you joked, setting aside your now empty glass. With that, you jumped into the chilly crystal water, letting it soothe your hot skin. Eleanor quickly followed.

You enjoyed the last inklings of summer vacation together before your new adventure began. You talked about missing friends and family, what Hogwarts would be like, whether or not you liked hot tea and what classes you would be taking. True to teen girl form, you were both excited to meet cute guys with foreign accents. And with a mix of thrill and nerves, you both realized that you two would be the foreign ones to them, and hoped that it would play in your favor.

“I wonder if British guys will think American girls are hot?” you asked her after the sun went down. You’d both climbed out of the pool at this point, your sun-kissed skin beginning to prune.

Eleanor laughed. “Geez, I hope so. Could you imagine getting a handsome British boyfriend? Talk about the adventure of a lifetime.”

You couldn’t deny that the thought of kissing a handsome boy with an attractive accent at the top of a castle turret excited you, but your mind always went back to connecting with the spirit of your father. Maybe you could feel closer to him there at Hogwarts, and would a boy distract you from getting that closure? You knew a boy would distract you from schoolwork, and you were determined to make such outstanding grades that Professor Dumbledore would have no choice but to write back to your Headmistress. After the academic crash and burn that was your second year, any and all glowing recommendations were not only welcome, but needed.

“It would be fun,” you giggled, wrapping yourself in your pool towel and squeezing the water out of your hair. “But wouldn’t it kinda suck when it’s all said and done? I mean, what if you got close to someone and then you have to leave to come back here?”

“I didn’t say we had to fall in love,” Eleanor shrugged. “I just want a hot piece of British ass.”

You busted out laughing. Eleanor always seemed so quiet at school, but once she got comfortable with you, she really came out of her shell.

“Come on, girls!” your mother called, sticking her head out of the back patio door. “Dinner is ready. I’ve got your salads on the table.”

You both trotted inside, whispering and giggling about the possibility of a grand foreign romance. After a pleasant dinner with your mother, you both went to bed, smelling of chlorine and sunlight.

Eleanor fell asleep before you did. You laid awake for a while, watching the shadows of swaying tree limbs dance across your ceiling. Your mind wandered back to the possibility of finding romance at Hogwarts. You doubted it would happen for you, especially since your priorities were elsewhere, but it wouldn’t be so bad to just dream about it, right?

You drifted into a deep sleep, flashes of colorful magic and the shadow of a boy dancing through your head.

[ Read Part 2 here ]

[finalgirlbuffysummers]

okay here it is. The rest is below the cut.

You would think that living on a Hellmouth made the nightmares worse. That every night would be screaming torment, but really, the hollow earth below never really prowled the dreams of its lesser citizens. Sure, the vampires and their teeth made appearances, dead classmates, the prickling curent of the wind, but waking up and knowing your neighbor heard the same bump in the night, knowing you survived to see the sun: that’s your bitter reward. Your comfort. It’s normal here, perched on the lip above the sharpest tooth.  

No, the nightmares get worse ten years down the line. You’re out of highschool. You wake up alone. You wake up in a city that doesn't understand you, strangers who want to prescribe you medicine or tell you to mediate. So you end up alone, and you know alone is how they like you. You’re not sure if demons lurk in your new city. You thought once that a man standing on the corner lit his cigarette with massive purple claws, and you ran, your feet echoing like gunshots through the streets. 

You never did learn to shoot a gun. You keep it in your nightstand drawer, but you know it wouldn't stop anything that's followed you out of California, out of Sunnydale. Once, you had a girlfriend. Rummaging around for a hair tie she discovered your small handgun, your safety blanket. She picked it up with her forefinger and her thumb, like it was filthy, like she didn't understand. “Why do you keep one of these awful things?” You couldn't answer her.

There's no girlfriend now. No one to make you coffee in the morning, no one to rub your back when you wake up with the feeling of teeth in your throat, tight grips on your ankles. She got tired of you, you poor, novel thing from the west. 

So it's been weeks. So it's been grocery shopping at 3am, staring at the wilting vegetables, trying to stay out of your apartment. It's been staying longer at the museum you work at. No, you don’t work there just to read the old books for some kind of answer, you lie. At your highschool, there was a librarian who kept swords. You think about sending him an email: Hey, Mr. Giles, do you sleep at night? Does it get easier? Where might I acquire a sword such as yours? You draft hundreds before you realize you have no idea where to send them. 

Your classmates don't keep in touch. there is no Facebook group, there is no reunion. There can’t be: Sunnydale is no more. It collapsed in itself. This should be comforting: but all you can think of is the beasts who crawled out of the pit, who remember the stink of your fear. Some folks stayed local, moving just a town over, the low thrum from the throat of hell enough the lull them into a stupid haze of breakfast, lunch, and getting eaten for dinner. The rest left. There are two hundred, give or take, Sunnydale immigrants scattered around the country, waking up alone. Waking up with a gun in their hands. Waking up dead. Your school newspaper had an obituary page. The boy who ran it wrote well, you thought, if cynical. Who the hell can blame him? Mr. Giles, you write. How come it didn't get us? Why are we still left? Mr. Giles, can you tell me if it's following us?

Last week a friend of a friend called you to say Dennis had died. Dennis… you remember now. He was the lead singer in that band, what was it? Something about Dingoes. You ask how he died. Sunnydale habits: You keep an ear out for the signs. The friend says, puncture wounds, on the neck. Police suspect it was inflicted by a barbeque fork. You drop the phone. You sharpen stakes, get splinters in your palms. Buy crucifixes by the dozen. More than once, you’ve slept in a church pew, under the painted ceiling. At work, your boss asks with some concern about the dark circles under your eyes. Long night, you say. You are starting to hate this city. In this city, there’s no hero.

Yes, you remember her. You know everyone else does, too. Buffy. One time, you saw her sparring with the librarian. No swords, just fists. Another time, she crawled out of your biology classroom window at the arrival of a dark haired girl who blew her kisses. One time, she slammed the computer science teacher against her own desk. Wacky shit. You knew, though. That Sunnydale High had to be the safest place in town because of her. She killed things, probably. Definitely. Then she left. Sometimes, there are whispers: “I heard Buffy’s in Rome.” “I heard she lives in a castle.” “I heard she’s dead.” God, please, no. After every long night, you pray she still lives. That she hasn't let her guard down. It's midnight. You draft another email. Mr. Giles. Buffy’s still alive, right? Please tell me she’s okay. People keep dying, Mr. Giles, and we’re not even in Sunnydale anymore. Can you tell me what happened there? Why can't I stop dreaming about the destroyed graves of everyone who died? Can you tell me anything at all? Mr. Giles, Dennis is dead. Oz’s friend. I hope Oz is alive, too. I hope you’re alive. I hope you’re well. Take care. This time, you call a colleague in London. You track down Gile’s email through a stroke of luck, and you hit send. You don’t hear back at all. 

Three months later, you receive a response. You’d almost forgotten about the message you sent. Your museum opened a new and successful gallery You received a promotion. You’ve been successful. (Yes, you’re even sleeping more. Shh, don’t say it too loud). You open the email.

Greetings and glad to hear from you- it’s wonderful to hear from old students. I do hope you’re well.

There is no easy way to answer these emails. Yes, you're not the only one who’s managed to reach me. I won’t disclose my location, or hers, but I can tell you that Buffy is safe, and alive, and I think she’s happy. She’s been happy for a while. I’ll tell her you asked, she likes to know that old classmates are doing well. Yes, Oz is alive. He’s been in Tibet for some time, though we do hear from him on occasion. He heard about Denis’s passing. Truly a tragedy. 

I’m quite pleased to hear you’ve entered museum studies: a deeply satisfying and enriching work. I hope that you are finding enough answers with it. I know that living on- Well, where we lived is disorienting, confusing. I’ll try to answer you as best I can. 

The swords I kept in the library (do never tell anyone I did that) I received as a present form a collector friend, who is long dead and whose collection is long scattered. The rest of the blade I received from my employers. I do not recommend keeping swords in your home as a safety measure. Invest in a good lock. Invest in protection charms found in books of the dark arts. I checked: your museum has some in collection. (Since you are emailing me, I can only guess that you’ve accepted explanations beyond those from the metaphysical realm).

I do sleep at night, thank you for asking.  It gets easier. I don’t say this just because I’ve put an ocean between myself and Sunnydale, no: time does heal. It helps that I’m with people who understand. It helps to name the thing in the dark. I’ll put you in contact with a colleague of mine- he’s in your museum network- and you can begin to build yourself a circle, if you wish. 

There is no reason that we live, my friend. There's no reason why any of our friends died. Your life is not a curse, I can promise you that. This isn’t borrowed time.

If you were being followed it would have gotten you by now. I apologize for my bluntness.

Oh, the ageless question of what happened. All the time in the world and I couldn’t give you a satisfactory answer. What would I say? That vampires haunt the sunniest part of California? That hell is real, and it can speak? I believe you already know the outline. What I can comfort you on is that yes. There are people who find evil, and they stop it. They haven't gone away. But that's not the point: don’t worry about them. Sunnydale is gone, dear student. It’s up to you to name the thing in the dark, keep it at bay. Be watchful, be wise. The world is bigger than most people know. 

Sincerely,

Rupert Giles

You close your laptop. You stretch your legs. You go into the bedroom to retrieve the handgun, then place it on the kitchen counter.  You stare at it. It doesn't move. You stare. The apartment is still, like the city is holding it in its throat. The clock strikes 4 am. It’s just a clock. It's just a gun. In your apartment, you’re just you, waiting for the sun to rise.

END