#only if a thousand of you ask i might have to charge something idk

[picturingchappell]

𝙚𝙡 𝙦𝙪𝙚 𝙣𝙤 𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙜𝙖, 𝙣𝙤 𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙖 | 𝙚. 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙨

pairing: ex-jailbird!ellie williams x ex-jailbird!afab!reader

tags: angsty, ellie is an asshole, between past and present (indicated with dates), ellie has issues, pet names (baby), description of violence, mild language, drug use, one use of y/n (i had to im SAWREE!!), idk what trope this is, but it’s certainly something, good ending, but i HATE it ugh, lowk wanna make an alt ending, but i might not. 🤷🏽‍♀️

a/n: the word ‘jailbird’ being used in this context is lowk cringey but who cares? ive been on a roll lately!!! (i still have reqs to finish) ellie fic speed run r smth idk. tbf, this is the longest fic ive written in a while. i considered making this like a series or something but i never finish those so.. ig this is like a rlly big fat oneshot??? idk.

p.s: for my pookie @sweetysaccharine who also got a sneak peek hehe. 🤭🤭

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 | 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟷𝟽𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷

you stand infront of a burning car on a hill in the middle of the desert at nighttime. you and ellie had just stolen $20 thousand worth of diamonds at some high end store in the city where only the most wealthy of people live, and now you were destroying the evidence, burning your costumes and leaving the diamonds out for the coyotes. “ellie, i won’t wanna do this anymore.” she looks at you through the blazing fire with a slightly raised eyebrow. “do.. what?” she asks as she pushes her hands into her pockets. “commit crimes. i want to have a normal life. im tired of this. you’re always making me do crazy shit.” you explain, exaggerating a bit with your hands. “were felons, baby. there is no normal for us. you chose this life. but sure. let’s say hypothetically, you get this ‘normal life’. where will you work? at a grocery store?” “i don’t know.” “exactly. that’s the beauty of it all. we don’t know what comes next. we don’t know if the police will come after us again, do we?” “well.. no—“ “exactly. go out and buy some more fruit.” she begins walking off, leaving the burning car behind. “we don’t need anything else, ive already got what we need.” you say as you begin walking off into the opposite direction. sand crunches underneath your feet as you walk off, hood over your head and the nights cool wind brushing against the bits of exposed skin on your body.

𝙰𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗, 𝚃𝚇 | 𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟾𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟽 what were the odds of two felons who hate each others guts working together after escaping together? highly unlikely. but it was your reality. let’s start from the beginning, shall we? ellie had gotten.. waaay too many years to even count. she was charged with identity theft, armed assault, two counts of homicide, and possession of illegal firearms. what were you charged with? accessory to a robbery, armed robbery and you’d also had a few DUI’s. was how many years you’d gotten even mattered now? it didn’t. you were free. and freedom smelled great. but sometimes? freedom sucks. ellie was crazy. she was batshit crazy. she was the one who helped you escape prison. she knows a lot of people. like, a scary amount of people. lawyers, drug dealers, private doctors, the whole nine yards. how’d you escape? simple.

“the other girls are gonna start a riot. cause i told em to. you’re gonna sneak into the break room. there’s a window a few inches up from the floor. break the window and—“ she explained, making sure to keep her voice down. you were a bit wary of her little ‘plan’. “wait, won’t that set the alarm off?” you ask with a raised eyebrow. “lemme ask you a question. whats more worth it — freedom or a goddamn alarm?” “.. im guessing you want me to say freedom?” she nods, then patting your shoulder approvingly. “back to what i was saying, after you’ve broken the window, there’s someone waiting for you on the other side. the security cameras should be busted by then. ill follow you.” her confidence in her plans certainly amazed you. “don’t screw this up.” “i won’t.” “good. now.. why don’t you go read a book?” she suggested before walking off. she was strange, like really strange. sometimes ellie tended to say things that didn’t really make any sense. it was also a rumour that ellie had hallucinations. she’d just sit up in the middle of the night and talk to.. nobody, or she’d stare into the mirror talking to seemingly nobody. was that maybe why she’d been so crazy? because she was fighting her own demons? you didn’t know. the riot began. you heard them in the lunch room banging their trays against the metal tables, yelling at the prison guards and attacking some. you run away into the break room. there were metal bars against the windows. “how the hell am i gonna remove this?” you mumble to yourself as you look around. you search under tables like a madwoman, even searching the pockets of the coats suspended from the metal coat rack.

you heard angels sing once you find a toolbox hidden away underneath a bench. you look at the screws. you needed a flat looking screwdriver. you search the toolbox for one that loosely resembles the screws and you hurry to the window with a chair. standing on the chair, you quickly unscrew the screws and you pull the bars from the window. with the metal bars in hand, you smash the window, all the little glass pieces flying everywhere as the prison alarms go off simultaneously. you look back at the door to the break room. ellie would come, she valued her freedom more than anything in this world.

and with all the uncertainty in your body, you followed through. you jumped down into the parking lot while the alarms ring all throughout the prison. there had been someone else on the other side. a woman with curly hair and tan skin, driving some beat up blue honda. she was pretty. “cmon, hurry and get in. we’re gonna floor it as soon as ellie gets here.” she said, relatively calm as if she’d done this before. you hop into the backseat of her car anxiously. your leg shakes and you bite your nails. looking around at the security cameras, you found that they were, in fact not busted. “that goddamn liar!” she exclaimed as you hit your hands against your thighs. “you’re an idiot for trusting her. ellie never holds her word. she said she’d pay me back a year ago. she owes me $14,000 that she still won’t pay back.” the woman says as she looks at you through the mirror above her. you didn’t trust her. nobody did. but she was a good convincing person and an even better liar. while you were sitting in the back of the car, you recalled all the times she’d attempted to kill you. she gave you concussions, she stabbed you with makeshift knives, she got her minions to beat you half to death. what had you done in retaliation? well, you stabbed her, hung her from a bathroom stall with your sheets, wounded her badly and proceeded to shoot air into the major vein until her heart almost exploded out of her chest. the two have you had gone tit for tat for a while. but is it really an appropriate time to reminisce on old memories? not at all.

the sound of her shoes hitting the ground caught your attention. you look over and see her running towards the car, hopping in her front seat and slamming the door shut. “cmon, drive dina! step on it!” she demanded as she hits her hands against the dashboard. the woman, dina, steps on the gas. the gates of the prison had been closing slowly, leaving just enough room for the car to slither out. ellie cheers to herself. why was she cheering? ellie suddenly turns to you. “we have to get out of texas. dina here is gonna take us halfway to.. somewhere. ive already arranged a place for us to stay. if you screw up? ill strangle you with the hem of your shirt.” her tone falters between the lines of something serious and something a little playful. what was this? why were you doing this with her? you’d been royally screwed now if you weren’t before.

𝙰𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗, 𝚃𝚇 | 𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟾𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟽

you drove for hours on end while ellie sat in the front, blabbering about seemingly nothing. she sat in the front, smoking weed and changing the radio station until she settled on some sorta rock station. “ellie, do you realize how much you owe to me?” dina asks seriously as she takes the two of you through some sort of desert. “mm.. how much?” “14k. you owe me big time, ellie.” ellie laughs. she turns to you, whites of her eyes turning a light red colour. “can you believe her? me? owing her 14k? that’s insane.” she sat there laughing to herself. dinas iron clad grip on the steering wheel told you what you needed to know. she was fed up with ellies shit.

dina stops the car abruptly on the side of the sandy road. she turns to ellie with a face full of fury. “yknow, ive offered you enough. i said you can pay in installments. you didn’t pay. i gave you time. you still won’t pay. now im being complicit in your fucking prison break!” dina exclaimed. ellies laughing almost instantly stopped as dina raised her voice. “you don’t seem to understand how this works. i don’t owe anyone anything. the way ive paid you back was giving you a good fuck like you asked.” “ellie, i was as high as a kite when i said that! jesus christ, you really don’t listen do you?” you don’t intervene even though ellie is looking for you to do so. something you learned was to never fight battles that weren’t yours. this was between them.

they argued. a lot. going back and forth while ellie took super long drags of the joint between her fingers. dinas car reeks of the smell of weed. ellie wouldn’t take anything seriously until dina raises her hand to smack the daylights out of her. a ringing sound resonates throughout ellies ears as she looks at dina in shock. “why the fuck would you slap me?” “i.. i don’t know.” dina was shocked and you were equally as shocked. ellie opens the car door and she gets out. “get out the car.” she says to you, opening your door. “what, but we’re in the middle of the—“ “get out the fucking car!” ellie yells. you get out. “thanks for nothing. don’t call me again when your boyfriend can’t make you cum!” ellie yells at dina, flipping her off before grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you off into the sunset. you look back at dina and you see her with a look of shock on her face. as if now she regrets what she’d done.

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 | 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟷𝟾𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷 after that day, dina hadn’t come around anymore. maybe because she was under investigation for helping you and ellie escape prison. you and ellie lived in a rv and it was pretty peaceful. she chilled on trying to kill you for a while. you sat outside in a beach chair, looking at the sunrise with a cup of tea.

she joins you, sitting in the chair right next to yours. she was smoking a cigarette. “i wanna do something with you. before that ‘normal life’ you want.” she said as she looked at you. “one last heist.” she exhales the smoke, the smell of tobacco entering your nose. “a heist? ellie, you know we can’t do that anymore. the police have our photos.. and fingerprints.” “they’ve had our photos and prints since 2017, baby.” those goddamn pet names that rolled off of her tongue made you a little weak in the knees. you hated her but you couldn’t hate her voice. “ellie, this isn’t a good idea. we need to think about this. the last time you tried to pull off a heist, you almost got arrested.” you tried to be the voice of reason in this ‘relationship’ (or lack therefore of.) “i hate doing this, ellie. i want a normal life. i wanna go home.” your voice was sad. “and what happens if you go back home? your parents will be happy to see you, naturally. someone could betray you. your mother, your brother. anyone.” her words hang in the air as she looks at you. she puts her cigarette out in the makeshift ashtray that sat on a small wooden table. “what do i always tell you?” you thought about it for a moment. ellie had lots of weird sayings. so you take a guess. “hate is the worlds strongest motivator?” she nods her head. “and what else?” “the person who doesn’t risk, cannot win? but quick question— what does that have to do with anything?” she gets up and she stands in front of you. she squats down to your eye level.

“you’re either one of two things in life. a fox or a rabbit. the fox will hunt the rabbit and won’t back down till it gets what it wants. the rabbit will run for its life so the fox doesn’t let the fox get it. who would you wanna be in life?” ellie had a strange way of looking at life. maybe when you’ve been locked up for so long, attempted to escape so many times and had some mental issues, your outlook on life changes drastically. her analogies always made you wonder how she’d even been able to look at life this way. when you don’t answer her question, she answers for you. “a fox. you wanna be a fox. right now? you’re being a rabbit. tighten the fuck up.” her hands give your thighs a few slaps as she spoke. they were a bit hard but not hard enough to leave marks. after your little talk, she goes back into the rv.

you’re sat there with a racing mind and a swell of emotions. the once warm tea had gone cold. whatever she’d been planning to do on this heist must’ve boosted her head up enough to the point where she could go around, telling people to tighten the fuck up. you resented her heavily. ellie wasn’t a hard person to hate. well, maybe a better word is loathe. she was a terrible person with no moral compass. she didn’t care about anyone else but herself. and maybe she’d been going through things on her own, but she had multiple options to get help. she lived knowing that she’d survive, and only would be at the top of the food chain. as if.

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 | 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟷𝟾𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷

ellie still wanted your help. she tried everything to convince you. a share of her earnings. a 60/40 share (you having 60%, leaving the other 40% to her.) but you don’t budge. she needed to think, her brain wasn’t functioning well at finding a different approach. maybe she could just let you go with that ‘normal life’ you’ve always wanted. but this wasn’t something she could just easily do alone. it was much bigger than that. and she also couldn’t threaten you cause then you’d definitely run away. ellie couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kind to someone. she’d been met with a harsh response to anything she’d ever done in life, so she projected her issues onto other people. maybe it wasn’t the best coping mechanism, but she felt like she had nothing to lose.

she approaches you slowly. “we should talk.” she mumbled. “about.. what?” you ask. “the heist.” “ellie, no—“ “just hear me out please.” she takes a breath before she starts talking. “i swear we won’t get caught. and if we do miraculously, ill take the blame. you can say i kidnapped you or something.” “why are you do adamant about doing this? do you even have a reason?” ellie slowly shakes her head. she sits next to you. her hands fall in her lap as she twiddled with her fingers. “yknow, i don’t really know. i just get these urges to do these things that don’t really make sense.” her tone was genuine, but you werent sure. ellie had a tendency to guilt trip you into doing things that you really didn’t wanna do all because you were the only person she had left and nobody else would do this for her. of course you knew what she was going through, albeit you didn’t understand on a personal level as she had because she was living with this everyday.

you saw all her pill bottles — some SSRI’s, something for her hallucinations, and some other stuff with scratched off labels. “ellie, i really hope you’re not trying to guilt trip me into doing this heist with you.” a part of you was fed up with her shit, just like dina had been. but another part of you wanted to be there for her (even though she didn’t open up), and you also like liked her a little. not too much. “of course this isn’t me guilt tripping you. in fact, you don’t even have to worry about it.” she turns to you and she smiles. it felt weird seeing her smile. with all that serotonin she got from the SSRI’s, she didn’t really ever smile. you didn’t put too much thought into it. you just hoped she wouldn’t do anything impulsive.

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 | 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟷𝟿𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷

ellie was up early the next morning. it was six something. she was pacing around outside while she was biting her nails. she was nervous or anxious about something. sometimes you wished you you’d be in ellies brain when she was being like this or being way too brief with her explanations when there was clearly something up with her.

what was she thinking about now? well, you. she was thinking about you. how long you’d put up with her, how long you’d live. stuff like that. there’s only one certainty in life — death. everyone inevitably dies one day even though they may not wanna. ellie planned on dying on her own terms. something else ellie thinks about often was her life before all this. she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her dad. she missed him. she also missed dina. ellie had dated a few people in the past, some girl named cat and dina. they didn’t end up really working out together because of ellies impulsive nature, but they stayed friends until.. the incident when dina slapped ellie.

in her own way, ellie wanted her old life back as did you. she wanted to wake up to the smell of joels coffee and dinas sleeping form in her bed, all that pretty curly hair sprawled over her pillow. but she knew what she was doing when she made this decision. she knew what she was doing when she decided to steal the identity of some rich lawyer so she could withdrawal all their money for herself. she knew what she was doing when she’d went to that very same lawyers office with an unregistered pistol, robbing them and leaving them with practically nothing. this couldn’t have happened coincidentally. she wanted her old brain back. the one that didn’t have violent and impulsive thoughts. the one that didn’t keep replaying her heinous crimes.

“you’re a mess.” ellie looks up. she sees herself wearing her prison uniform. her hair was much longer then (she’d cut most of it off.) “don’t tell me that. you’re a mess too.” she says to herself. “you want this heist so bad, then do it yourself. it’s nothing you can’t handle.” the split image of ellie was pushing her hands into her pockets and looking at the trees around her. “what’s stopping you?” “you know the answer to that question.” “i don’t. tell me ellie, what’s stopping you?” “y/n.”

as she says that, she hears your footfall behind her. she looks back at you and then back to where the other copy of herself had been. the other ellie was gone. you approach her slowly. “who were you talking to?” you ask, offering her a glass of orange juice that you’d made. “nobody. and uh, the heist.. it’s off.” she muttered as she takes a sip of the orange juice, quenching a thirst she didn’t know she had. “oh, well, that’s good.” you nod in approval. “im sorry.” ellie said it loud enough for your ears only. “i fucked up big time. i know i did. im sorry for putting you through this. im so sorry.” ellie almost never apologized for anything. your face flashes with multiple emotions at once, not sure which one you should feel right now. “it’s.. okay. it’s gonna take me some time to forgive you, but id like to try.” ellie turns to you once you finish speaking and she gives you a firm pat on the shoulder before heading towards the rv.

you felt yourself smiling a bit. you always knew she could do it. you just had to wait for her.

[werewolfetone]

I am begging you to tell me more about the dangerous politically charged and insane woollen drapery trade of late 18th century Belfast

Oh god. Alright, I'm assuming that everyone reading this has at least a basic knowledge of the fact that there are Catholic-Protestant tensions in Northern Ireland--if not, google it please I don't want to have to explain that to someone for the first time again. I'm also putting the bulk of this post below a cut because it's... a lot about that, and I know I wouldn't particularly want that shoved onto my dash without asking me, so this is your warning for the fact that this is mostly about sectarianism.

The previously mentioned tensions have been around for a long, long, long time, and one point they were particularly heated was the late 18th century. This was fueled by wider anti-Catholic sentiment in the British Isles as a whole, which was itself fueled by King George iii (derogatory) being anti-Catholic to an extreme, and just by... the way people were in the 18th century. idk. There were also events such as the Gordon Riots in 1780, which protested increased rights for Catholics and made the simmering tensions much worse.

To understand Catholic-Protestant tension in Ireland specifically, and by extension to understand what was so insane about the woollen drapery trade, there are few groups you need to know about.

The Peep O'Day Boys. They were the Protestant sectarian murder gang. They would go around smashing the windows of Catholic houses, torching Catholic farms, killing and beating up Catholics who looked at them funny... etc etc. They were also responsible for something called the Armagh Outrages, which was basically an anti-Catholic killing spree that led to thousands of Catholics being run out of Co. Armagh upon pain of death.

The Orange Boys. This is just the Orange Order but they've got a different name. If you're not aware of who they are I envy you, and they still exist today and they suck. They were originally a splinter faction of the Peep O'Day Boys, which claimed to be less violent but... might not have been. Both groups blamed each other for the Armagh Outrages, it's not entirely clear who did it.

The Defenders. They were the Catholic sectarian murder gang, originally created to defend against Protestant attacks, hence the name. They didn't go to quite the extreme level of unprovoked violence as their Protestant counterparts, but they could get close. They were also generally the underdogs, given that the government by and large tended to agree with the Peep O'Day Boys

The groups would often fight, either under cover of darkness or in some cases just in broad daylight, and their fights would get, as expected, extremely violent. You have to understand that these two sides despised each other on every level. They both wanted the other side completely gone from Ireland.

Two more groups who are important to this conflict:

The Whiteboys. They were a secret agrarian anti-landlord society that protested the rent gouging and general existence of landlords in Ireland by killing people. Landlords at this time, of course, managed to be even worse than they are today, and controlled most aspects of their tenants' lives. And the Whiteboys were violent in response; they could and would kill people for charging too high of rent.

The Steelboys. Also called the Hearts of Steel, they were very similar to the Whiteboys, only they were exclusively Protestant and they were just in the North.

So there was the class conflict as well as the sectarian conflict, and it was fueled by the changes brought on by the Industrial Revolution. Irish (and British) society was becoming less agrarian and more industrialised, so people who could work as independent weavers and make a decent living now had to become factory workers, where they were paid significantly less, and they weren't pleased with that. It was also fuelled by British occupation of Ireland--the Brits would significantly underpay Irish workers, and would mistreat the Irish working classes in general. This led to the class conflict also becoming extreme.

The last thing, again, that I have to stress, is the extreme violence. If you pissed off one of the above groups for whatever reason, they would leave a note on your door saying "you have x many days to get out of town" and if you didn't, they would kill you. If they were that polite, of course--the Whiteboys particularly had a reputation for deciding they didn't like someone and showing up to shoot them that night. Oh, and if the government caught you being part of any of these groups (EXCEPT the Peep O'Day Boys) they would also kill you, possibly without any trial.

Now. Take the sectarian violence, take the class violence, take the government's violence, and add to them an extremely competitive by nature market that all of the people involved in the above fighting are having to compete with each other in, an almost cartoonishly evil government that truly could not care less if people die, and the ideas of the French Revolution dividing people further, and you have an approximation of what the Belfast woollen drapery trade was like in the late 18th century.

[xinasvoice]

Dear xinasvoice - I love all your Wolfstar podfics so, I am having trouble finding others that match in quality now that I've finished all of yours... Do you have some favorite podfics you can recommend?

Oh dear, this post is going to reveal my snobbery, but it sounds like you are an audio snob too so...hopefully that is okay? Basically, my podfics sound nice because I have a ~$6k audio setup (booth, soundproofing, sound dampening, mic, interface, editing software) because I thought for a while I would do audiobooks, and because I'm a total perfectionist about my podfic too. For the record, yes, $6k of perfectionism is too much perfectionism. Well, that's bottom of the barrel in the audiobook world, but it's definitely more money than any sane person with a regular amount of disposable income would spend on podfic. (FYI, I'm not doing audiobooks anymore because my other day job gives back more to the world, and I decided I want to focus on that, so I'm sorry but I can't point you towards my bad-ass real-world audiobook persona.) So if we are judging on audio quality alone, no, to be perfectly honest I have not personally listened to many podfics that sound like mine, especially the newer ones (the older ones are from a more amateur-level setup, and the OLDEST ones are from basically no setup except a hand-me-down USB mic). BUT, there is a lot more to podfic than audio quality. Acting/reading style matter. Some people can do really badass accents, which I don't do (too chicken). And the most important thing is the story, because usually your brain will filter out things like background noise if you are into the story. And if you are just getting into podfic, please don't think you need fancy stuff, 90% of your listeners literally cannot hear the difference. I've tested this on my friends. I have sensory processing disorder, so my audio needs probably differ vastly from the average person. Anyways, because I am an audio snob I am sorry to say that I rarely listen to podfic that isn't my own. BUT here are the few I have listened to that I adore:

The Drought Story by Librae - the first podfic I listened to, and still a comfort-listen. A good example of how the audio quality isn't a big deal, since there is a lot of background hiss/room noise. I adore this narrator's accent and pacing of reading, and the story is the perfect, sweet, poetic listen. Sadly, this link is to the text story. I can't find where I originally downloaded the audio file from. I don't even know the name of the narrator (unless Librae did it themself). If you really want it, I guess I can email it to you (xinasvoice@gmail.com), but you would have to take off those rad shades and show me your true gmail identity. Highland Fling by picascribits - I made an audiobook version of the author's mp3 file, (it's linked in the comments), just because I find it really annoying to listen to a long MP3. This is a lovely story, although I think I recall a questionable lube-less experience. This is decent audio quality. The Maddest House by busaikko - One of my top-favorite fics, and being able to listen to it is a total treat. The audio quality is better than most, for sure, but honestly it is still hard for me to listen to. Also ugh, I can't find the podfic file. It's by Greeniron I think? Maybe some of my followers can help. Stealing Harry by copperbadge - One of the best fics in fandom, famous-for-a-reason! I adore this one so much that I recorded the little short stories that come after it. I had always meant to do the next big fic in the series, but I never got around to it. Thank god it's on A03. I weep for all the fics and podfics I love from my teenage years that were murdered by corporate purges or internet attrition. Also, my bestie, @remus-lupin-is-my-type makes podfic and I have mastered the recent ones for sound quality, so you might like her stuff! It is similar sound quality, but it's not wolfstar. My current fave is a stucky (Captain America) podfic called Talk Awkward To Me. If anyone else makes podfic and wants me to master it, it actually only takes me a couple minutes with the presets I have in RX7 (note, mastering is different from editing). So hit me up in the PMs!

[sluttywonwoo]

idk if you take these requests but who in svt has sugar daddy vibes? and what type of sugar daddies would they be like?

i’ve been waiting for this one!! turn it up!!

seungcheol: he’s the ultimate sugar daddy ok?? jeonghan tells carats to ask him for money if we meet him out in public and that he’d give it to us so… there’s no doubt in my mind. he’s the type to be casual about it, not really keeping track of how much he gives you or spends on you. you’d have your own credit card linked to his account and he really doesn’t care what you charge to it. he’d really like to take you on trips with him too, and show you all of his favorite places. and i feel like he’d give you cash randomly, like if you decided to give him a blowjob or something.

jeonghan: he’d give you a set allowance each week, and little rewards on the side if you’re extra good. he doesn’t mind paying for your company, and knows your feelings for him are real. he just understands that you have bills to pay like anyone else and he’s happy to provide you with an income.

joshua: not really a sugar daddy sugar daddy but would give you cash all the time to spend on whatever you want. sometimes you try to deny it, but he’s very insistent. he also likes to take you on expensive dates when he’s trying to get laid (also because he loves you but mostly because he’s horny).

wonwoo: aside from 95 line, i feel like wonwoo’s the only one who might give off sugar daddy tendencies (me n my gf agree on this). like when mingyu called and asked for like a thousand dollars he was so casual about agreeing aksjsjs. and wonwoo has expensive taste so whoever he’s attracted too is likely ahem, expensive. but he’d fall into the sugar daddy role easily, using cash as an incentive for good behavior while he fucks you. it’d curb your brattiness almost instantly and you’d be a perfect angel for him.

[yuujism]

a curse like you (ryōmen sukuna x reader)

REQUEST:  Hello! I really love ur sukuna fics and i was wondering if i can request a yuuji/sukuna x fem reader where mc is a curse that sukuna knew from many years ago?? Can be fluff, smut or angst. Up to you 😁 thank you so much!! 🤗

| PAIRINGS:  ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

| WARNINGS: little suggestive but nothing bad, grammar errors

| WORD COUNT: 1,653

A/N: i focused this more on sukuna idk  if that’s ok with you !! if not you can send me a message or reqeust and tell me what did you expect so i can change it if i can😭!! anyway i like yearning and ex lovers to lovers prompts so uhh yea 😳 might even write this better with yuuji being more involved and more things happening lmfaosh !! i hope you enjoy!!  ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

Sukuna was bored out of his mind.

These situations were becoming more recurrent now that the brat that called himself his vessel started becoming stronger and getting the hang of the use of cursed energy.

He could hear everything that happened during the fight: the swearing, the sound of flesh splitting open, blood splashing and some motivational speech every now and then.

This was all a routine for the King of Curses now.

When he felt the light in his flesh for the first time in thousands of years, he swore he would never feel something like that again. It wasn’t anything that deemed itself meaningful, but after centuries of not having contact with anything at all, that moment felt like pure ectasis. He didn’t really count with having to spend most of the time inside of a brat after that.

It was all boring now. Boring, boring, boring. 

“Sorcerers come pretty green now, don’t they?” 

Oh? 

He lifted his head way too quickly, almost giving himself whiplash even if it was impossible. 

That voice. Sukuna knew that voice well. Very well if he said so himself. 

This was the voice that would call him a King in a mocking tone, as if it was calling him the King of idiots instead of the King of Curses. The same voice that refused to let out the sound of his name, too proud and stuck up but whenever they were alone, feeling each other, it would slip out every now and then. A voice that would let out the sweetest pleads and moans whenever he would let his hands travel around that body. And it became the last thing he heard before he was cut into pieces and retained by sorcerers for decades, sinking into the darkness. 

And now, the owner of the voice, who he thought was dead, was standing there, in front of his vessel, with the biggest smirk on her face.

Y/N. The proclaimed queen of curses.

And Sukuna’s... ex.

Sukuna felt Itadori freeze in place, looking directly at you with fear filling his body. The curse couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. Even after thousands of years, your power was way too intimidating and immaculate Sorcerers of the old age would even avoid saying Y/N’s name in fear of summoning her, knowing damn well she wouldn’t hesitate to kill them for making bad use of her title. 

They could feel it. They knew you weren’t just a cursed spirit. You could talk and appeared out of nowhere without even making your presence known. You were probably at the same level as Sukuna. Or Sukuna was at the same level as you.

He really thought you were killed after he was captured, only remembering your revengeful words towards the sorcerers who killed your lover. After that, and for obvious reasons, he never heard of you. Not even in this new era where sorcerers spawned one after the other, never mentioning your name or any hint that lead to your survival. So to see you in front of him, safe and sound and impactful as ever, Sukuna felt relief.

Y/N’s eyes landed on Yuji’s restless ones, as if she was staring at his soul. Which, basically, she did. Her gaze passed all the way through his barrier and soul, finally reaching what she was looking for: Sukuna’s own soul and eyes.

“Damn, King, is that you?” in a blink of an eye, you were right before Itadori’s face, too quick for him to even react and even too scared. “Shit, you’re pretty fucked now, huh? All trapped inside a bag of human flesh.”

Before the girl with the hammer could strike your body after snapping out of her trance, you limited yourself to press a finger in the sorcerer’s forehead, smiling almost sweetly before sending her body flying back with extreme force against the furthest wall of the space, knocking her out. 

“K-Kugisa- Hngh!” Itadori’s words were interrupted by a hand wrapping around his neck, slightly lifting him from the ground as he struggled to move, too weak from the constant fighting with all the cursed spirits that came in a flood. 

“Now, now,” Your voice was too calm, almost tired, getting closer to Yuuji’s face “Why don’t you switch with the oh-so-mighty King of curses? Too scared to come out, huh, King?” 

Your tone ticked Sukuna in more than one way. You were still the same annoying bitch as before. 

If you wanna live you better switch with me, you damn brat.

“Like hell I would switch with you! You’re gonna kill us!”

“Oh, so you can talk with him within yourself?” You let out an amused snort, your grip getting tighter. “Ridiculous!”

Foolish human, she will kill you. Switch with me.

Even if his vessel dying didn’t mean anything to Sukuna, he knew he would never get the chance to meet you again, probably for another thousand years, and these sorcerers were too invested in vanishing him from the face of the earth. 

When Yuuji was about pass out, eyes half closing and his windpipe being pressed roughly, you noticed the way his skin started developing black marks in his face and along his body. You smiled widely when the small scars under the sorcerer’s eyes opened to reveal a red colour looking straight at you, the whole features of this guy in front of you changing to reveal what you were looking forward too.

Sukuna’s hand wrapped around your wrist, claws digging into your flesh as you both stared at each other with a mix of emotions: hatred, anger, amusement. And something more.

“Move.”

You dropped him, backing up a bit as he fixed the hoodie his vessel was wearing, glaring at the queen of curses. You didn’t change at all. If Sukuna had to be honest, you were as hot tempered and attractive as before. He could perfectly remember the way your body reacted whenever he touched the spots that drove you crazy A sly smirk appeared on his face as he noticed the same movement of fingers when you were restless, and he knew it was because of him.

“Nervous, Y/N?” Sukuna chuckled, walking to you to circle around your frame, looking up and down your body. “You know I don’t bite, baby. Unless you ask me to, that is.”

You turned around to look at him behind you, incredulous.

“Hah?” Your head fell back, letting out a louder than usual laugh. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, King. I’m just worried I’ll easily step on you while you’re in this vessel of yours.” Your hand started glowing with your cursed energy, raising an eyebrow at the way his indifferent expression didn’t flinch. “And even more now since you get dominated so easily.”

Once again, something in Sukuna ticked. If there was something he hated more than being looked down upon, it’d be the fact of not being in control of any situation. He never once admitted it, but your comments really got to him. He wanted to be praised and adored by you, queen who would never adore anyone but herself. This just made him even more infatuated by you. Perhaps even after all this time, he could make you say his name in a broken voice.

“You see, you shouldn’t be talking to me like that.” Your smile went away when a hand reached one of your cheeks, caressing it with such care you almost gagged. However, you couldn’t help the way your heart started beating faster. “Or do you think I don’t remember the way I made you submit to me?”

This time, it was you who twitched with anger. Sukuna’s hand grabbed your chin, his eyes falling on those delicious lips that committed the most sinful of acts and spat out the dirtiest of words. He was getting excited already, the fire within him starting to awaken after a long time.

When his face started getting closer to yours, you spat on him, the liquid landing on his cheek and laughing at his dumbfounded reaction after such action.

“A half-assed curse like you shouldn’t be talking to ME like that.” You snarled back, your arm swinging to attack the man in front of you. You almost chanted victory when your fist perfectly landed on the side of his face, making his head to turn to the side.

But when Sukuna turned to look back at you still with your fist against him, you gulped. There was no reaction, no injury that showed he was at least a little faced by the sudden attack.

This was it.

“Well, fuck.” You almost laughed again, expecting the worst to come when his eyes flashed with something dark, grabbing you by both sides of your head. All that time surviving for nothing. Keeping yourself hidden from every single sorcerer that walked the earth and now you were going to get killed by your ex-lover.

But instead of receiving the coup de grâce, Sukuna’s lips smashed against yours in a hungry manner, groaning against your mouth as your hands flew to scratch his arms in surprise, eyes open wide before the movement of his lips and strong hand in the back of your neck made you close them, not being able to fight back your own desires.

Sukuna missed this. Honestly, he missed any kind of physical touch but the fact it was with you again, made him realise it would always be you.

He was as calm as the silence surrounding you now, only the sounds of your heavy breathing filling your flushed ears. You were burning up, face red and glassy eyes. Sukuna smiled before slightly pulling your hair, head slightly falling back and taking advantage of this to place the softest of kisses in your neck. You let out a rather pathetic moan and he deeply chuckled.

“And a curse like you should know who is in charge here.”

[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.

[wonderwomanfantasy]

Sero NSFW alphabet

I can write sero smut... as a treat. 

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He treats you like a god once he’s done with you. He’s a big fan of after sex massages. Sero also likes to smoke a little after sex but that usually leads to one of you getting horny and having sex again so like/ not really after sex more like mid sex. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He’s got such a nice jaw and he knows it. Please kiss his jaw and chin he will get so riled up. 

Sero likes your back, it’s got such a nice shape to it and he loves the little moles and freckles on your back. He spends a lot of time touching your back when you too cuddle/ looking at it while he rails you from behind

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

his cum is so fucking thick for no reason. He can’t really do cum shots because it’s too god damn heavy to fly off. it’s also like, sweet? not like a lot just a little sweeter than average, it makes going down on him bearable. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He takes so many practice nudes, Like he is so concerned you won’t like his dick pics so he takes a thousand and only sends you the best ones. this also leads to posing after he gets out of the shower. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I mean he’s had sex before but probably only one or two partners, its a bit of a learning experience for both of you. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It changes day to day tbh on the one hand he likes fucking you from behind where you’re laying down, but he also likes it when he tapes your legs above you're head and he fucks you that way but also also he loves it when you ride him - or when He fucks you while spooning gah theirs just too many to chose from. for the most part though he likes positions where he gets to touch you and look at you as much as possible. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

...if you read kinktober day 31 you know what i think. Yeah he’s an absolute CLOWN do not trust this boy he will start humming the wee theme song in the middle of blowing your back out. He loves to see you laugh so he might fuck around and start tickling you while he’s eating you ot or something.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

This boy has a full on bush he is so fucking hairy. he has a thick treasure trail starting at his belly button and leading to his pubes wich are a mess tbh. he keeps it clean but like unless you ask him to trim he won’t think to do it. a lot of chest on his chest and his under arms too

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Like I said most of the time he’s a goof but hear me out- after like a glass of wine he gets so romantic. Please imagine tipsy Sero whispering soft praise in your ear and calling you pet names in Spanish while he kisses your neck and fingers you. 

something to think about idk

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

not often tbh, really only when you’re not around to do it for him but most of the time he’s patient enough to wait for you to be in the mood too. but if you ask he will send you a video of him putting, all those practice nudes pay off. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

food play- That one ask really did something for me AnYwAys. He liked feeding his partner, it really turns him on and he loves it when he gets to eat off of you, and he generally has an oral fixation and this feeds you. 

praise- please he is so soft, he loves to worship your body and tell you how gorgeous he thinks you look when he’s fucking you and he will go feral if you give him some of that energy back he loves it when you praise him

cum play- uhm. hmm, how to phrase this. He likes to cum in you and when he pulls out push the cum back in with his fingers until it’s all soaked up same if he came in your mouth

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

shower/ bath sex babie. He loves the feeling of water around you and it’s also super hot when both of you are sweaty/ dirty he really gets off on that. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

when you're clingy. he feels his soul assend to a higher plain of being when you needy and crawl into his lap to hug him. Of course if you’re not feeling it he can be a gentleman and keep his hands to himself but if you want to be even closer with him...

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

piss. Idk he just thinks it’s gross

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

you are his fucking world and his face is your throne please watterboard him he loves to give head you are just so yummy he can’t get enough of you. 

he likes getting head as much as the next guy but it’s really an after thought to absolutely devouring you and making your legs shake. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He likes to go slow and take his time unraveling you. His strokes are long and deep. it’s almost torture that he won’t speed up unless you beg him. Sero takes his sweet time building you up, and you hate it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

pretty indifferent tbh. He likes them fine and he enjoys the risk of doing it in some place public but he’d prefer to fuck you properly some where he can take his time with you

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

meh he knows what a he likes so he can be a little hesitant to try something new but he’ll usually bend to your will and try something for you. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

pretty average, he can go for a while with out busting but after he cums he gets pretty tired quickly and needs a break in between rounds

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

like I said earlier he loves to tie you up and use his tape on you and he’s a pretty big fan of other toys too like vibrators and nipple clamps, anything to get you worked up really. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

mmm not really a tease in his actions but in his words. He likes to pick on you a little bit to get a laugh or make you beg if you really want something but he’s usually not the type to withhold pleasure, unless you’ve been really bad.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is quiet but he talks a lot. Sero likes to moan in your ear softly, He’ll praise you and tell you how pretty you look right now and whisper how much he loves you but it’s all easily drowed out by the noises you make which he lives to hear. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I didn’t have anywhere else to put this but he is a big Service top / Pleasure dom. He’s not really mean to you and he will do just about anything you want him too but he sure as hell is in charge and he reminds you of that fact by overstimulating you until you’re crying and can’t take anymore. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

hee hee he’s got a big cock. I know it I know it’s big. hmm no thoughts just sero’s big cock. uhm anyways like pretty nice it’s long and thick with some pretty purple veins and a slight left curve to it

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I mean. it’s healthy but not as high as say Kaminiari’s sex drive. little things get him worked up and that tends to build until it’s too much to take

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He will stay awake long enough to take care of you but he likes to cuddle pretty soon afterwards. 

[liibrii]

Built for eternity  

deity!Atsumu x gn!reader || crack/fluff || wc: 1.6k || 🦊

Synopsis: Once Atsumu was a great deity, equally loved and feared but after taking a very long nap he wakes up to a world that has forgotten him. Everyone but your group that’s digging up his old shrine. He's sure you'll be his new followers so why on Earth are you destroying his house?!

warnings: barely proofread, general stupidity, cursing, suggestive moments, archaeological mumbo jumbo, Atsumu is a god of something but it's vague and not really important, also gods exist and everybody is chill with that, reader is a very tired archaeologist and done with everybody’s shit

a/n: after 3 days of rain and 6 straight hours of shovelling dirt I had an epiphany. idk, it made me laugh so I decided to scribble it down. and yes, don’t mess with a profile unless you want archaeologists to hate you forever as always feedback is greatly appreciated!

Once Atsumu was a great deity with shrines and temples at every corner. Nowadays the only ones remembering him are obscure books only used for collecting dust. But that is about to change. Atsumu is sure of that. 

Group of loyal followers has gathered where his shrine once stood, a small one, one he never really cared about but these days he'll take every crumb of adoration he can. And the crumbs are a plenty as the group digs up the shrine, excited about the pottery shards and walls coming to light. 

They call themselves archaeo-something, architects probably since they will rebuild his power. Yes, excellent, it pleases him to see you all rejoice, taking pictures of everything, you will be his new followers and more will follow, he'll be a great deity again, equally loved and feared-

“Aright, take the wall out!“

Huh?

Why are ya destroyin’ his shrine?! No, no, no, stop breakin’ apart the walls! That was the inner altar, what are ya pigs doin’?!

Thunder rumbles and a downpour falls for days, and still those little crawly humans continue to destroy his shrine, his precious walls, and take away the last remains of old offerings. Oh he's going to have a word with all of you freakin' stumblin’ humans, ya better know yer damn places. But he'll start with the one in charge.

The excavation site is empty when he decides to approach you. You're shovelling away dirt, though you should've started with your shoes and clothes. You turn when you hear someone approach and your eyes widen, as they should, thinks Atsumu, at least someone 'round here should show him the respect he deserves, he's a god after-

“Hey! You're standing on my feature! Get off, shoo, shoo! And watch out for the profile! I just cleaned the damn thing. Excavation site is closed to the public Mister so I'll have to ask you to leave.“

Exca- what? Leave? It’s his shrine! Humans shouldn’t react to his presence the way you did, that's just, it's not what humans do! 

“But I live here.“

“You-? Oh. You're still standing on my feature, get off already,“ you pull him off the patch of dark soil that to him looks the same as the patch where he's standing now.

“Why are ya destroyin' my shrine?“

You wipe away the sweat on your forehead, or maybe it's rain, with raindrops still falling he can't really tell. “We're not destroying anything, we're digging it up. Documenting it. It'll get destroyed once the apartment complex is build here. Come on, stay away from the profile!“

You return to scrapping the patch of dirt and Atsumu feels some very confusing mixture of rage that you, a lowly little human being, are talking to him like he's a nuisance, and being very pleased because when you lean down to scrap the soil he has an incredible view of your behind, and whew, that's a very nice ass. He shouldn't look, staring is rude, but what else is he supposed to look at, there's just soil, and holes dug into the ground, a weird green box atop a yellow tripod, a shovel, and some stones, one beside your left leg, such good looking legs indeed, there's a mud stain all over your ass-

No! You're tearing down the last remains of his shrine! “Human. I order ya to stop doin' what yer doin' and answer my questions!“

You glance over your shoulder. “Sure. I'll keep on working and you ask me what you want to know.“

Why are you so calm?! He's a deity, a god, you should be on your knees begging for your life to be spared, not scrapping the ground, oh holy bean sprouts and apples, why does your ass look so good? “Do ya know who I am?“

“The one of many names. The Twofaced god.“ You straighten up just to change gardening hoe for a shovel.

“Why aren't ya scared then?“

“I've met your kind before,“ you shovel the dirt onto a big pile a few steps away. “Though they usually don't go around destroying my surfaces. A clumsy god is a first. Oh, what's this? Pottery, nice,“ you mumble as you turn a small object covered with soil in your hand.

“Hey. Show me some respect or-“

“Or what? You’ll make it rain again? Joke's on you I've been soaked through and through for the last three days. Hand me the trowel?“

“Yer extremely impolite.“

To his utter surprise you burst into laughter. “Listen your holiness it's Friday afternoon, I’m tired, my clothes are completely wet, I'm cold, I have gravel in my shoes, my shoulders are killing me, and I'm more than ready to go home. But before that I have a feature to document. The one that you so kindly stepped in. Now, please show me your godly powers and hand me the trowel. The mini shovel. Red handle. No, left. Left. That's the one, thank you, what did I tell you, watch the profile man!“

Good grief, have humans always been so demanding?

“Will my shrine be rebuild?“

“If your shrine is an apartment complex, sure. Give it a few weeks and it will be good as new. Literally.“ When you see his face your expression softens a little. “No. It won’t be. We'll look at the remains to figure out when it was abandoned, what happened, that sort of thing.“

“But yer an architect. Architects build things.“ He heard people of your group call themselves that. They talked about how the walls had been built though he quickly stoped listening. “This shrine was built for eternity!“

“Archaeologist.“

“What?

“You meant I’m an archaeologist. Not architect. I don't plan buildings, I dig them up once their eternity passes.“

“It's eternity! It doesn't pass! Go dig somewhere else!“

You sigh. You look almost as exhausted as he did before taking his a few thousand years long nap. “Great, you're one of those people. Always complaining, why is it taking so long, why do you have to dig on my building site? Well mister it ain't my fault you decided to build atop of my neolithic settlement. Hey, grab the hoe.“

“The what?“

“The thing by your feet. No, that's a trowel. The one with the long handle. No, that’s a pickaxe, yes that's the one. See there? Your footprints. Clean them. Come on, don't just stand around and look pretty, get to hoeing.“

“Right here? Out in the open?“ He wiggles his eyebrows at you. “Yer an intriguin'-“

“Clean them away.“

Atsumu does as you say all while grinning. You're getting flustered. Humans and their brave facades, we'll see how long you manage to hold your own up.

“There.“ It only took four scraps to get rid of the footprints but Atsumu proclaims it so proudly he might as well just have dug up the entire excavation site on his own. “That was as easy-“ As he steps away ground under his foot crumbles and he hears your shocked shriek.

“My profile!“

Oh dear. The word he’d use to describe the look on your face when you see the collapsed pile of dirt beside the hole in the cross section would be heartbroken. Devastated. On verge of tears. Irritated. Angry. Enraged? 

“What did I tell you?! I gave you one job, one job you clumsy wanna be deity! Oh fuck, come on, I’m to tired for this.“

“’m sorry,“ Atsumu mumbles. His ears are on fire.

“Yeah you better be. Shit, fuck, what am I supposed to do?“ You look at him the same way someone in a hurry looks at a doorknob when their jacket gets caught on it. “You. Here.“

“What's-“

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what a shovel is. You destroyed my profile. I'm very tired. I'm very angry. I don't care if you're a god or a plastic straw, right now you will help me fix it. Shovel straight down. I want a right angle.“ 

With his strength evening out the cross section proves to be no problem at all. He glances over at you, do you see what a good job he’s doing, maybe he messed up before but now he’s doing great, as you pay him no attention and write something on a small blackboard. A bunch of numbers and words. He recognises there's a date. What could the others mean? You lean down to reach for, oh that mud stain on your trousers is actually a hand print. You must've wiped your hand on your ass- 

The shovel slips. Luckily you're too preoccupied with your camera to take notice of it.

“Are you done?“ you ask without looking up and he stutters out an 'almost' since he's almost sure it isn’t just the shovel that’s slipping. “Looks good.“ You say more to yourself than him. 

He thinks you're pretty cute when you're not chewing him out for stepping onto that one patch of dirt. The way you lift the camera up and take photos of that patch of dirt is pretty cute too. 

“Help me pack up,“ you say once you’re done. He doesn’t need to be told twice, already gathering your tools. “All things considered you weren’t so bad. Maybe you should consider becoming the god of archaeologists.“ Your smile is incredibly cute too. “Fancy a drink?“

[wickedpact]

You can't just drop that "I read Forces Multiplied" bomb on us and not give a ten page written reaction.

[cracks knuckles] if u insist

nicky cant drive hc: destroyed. rip. also i loved how andy and nile stole those sports cars and were being badass and driving off the bridge & meanwhile joe and nicky were just absolutely vibing in the van

'heres the thing about power: people who have it think they deserve it' [shot of police car] i see u greg

5 whole panels being dedicated to booker not being able to unlock his door. booker not even seeing noriko sitting RIGHT THERE in the window at first. incredible

noriko being 24/7 horny was surprising. like wow all of the stuff i saw she did out of context was 100% equally horny in context as it was out of context. love that for her

i didnt think the 'andy + slavery' thing was handled as badly as everyone made it out to be when telling me about it. tho from the way it was talked about i had kind of figured the conflict between andy and nile re: slavery would be really racially charged (esp considering nile is a black american and would obvs have Thoughts on the subject in that regard) but like,, done in a cringey 'a-white-guy-obviously-wrote-it' kind of way? but it wasnt that. i mean. it makes sense that andy would be implicit in slavery through the years

i mean, like she says, is that not what people just did to each other in the aftermath of battles for thousands of years? and i really like how its pointed out that it was what she was raised with (in the beginning when you see her put shackles on that guy after the battle) but she also accepts responsibility for it and acknowledges that it was wrong and not just 'what people did'.

i like how from her expressions you can kind of tell baby andy knew it was off but she sets those feelings aside bc she felt angry. it explains how she felt but didnt make her out to be blameless in it. plus i mean. i dont know, the fact that andy was involved in a lot of morally shady stuff for 7000 years is not that wild for me. if you live that long youre just Going to be involved in some shit, and she didnt even have other immortals with her as positive community influences, she literally just did whatever the fuck she wanted for thousands of years

'i was worshipped as a god once' i mean, yeah no shit she wouldve been involved in some seriously fucked up stuff, gods were fucking scary back in the day

tldr it could use some polish but it wasnt that bad

tho everything people said about moose being boring was unfortunately a little true. sorry king i tried to be interested in you

joe and nicky writing verbal fanfiction about nile and moose was iconic. 'you seeing that?' 'i am definitely seeing that'

it was also extremely funny bc that was like 60% of their contribution to the whole comic, besides kidnapping copley. they came, they wrote some fanfic, they left. kings. at least in tog1 they had an excuse to be useless bc they got kidnapped

joe just found out his old friend who he thought was dead is alive (and also probably wants to murder them) and instead of investigating with andy he stopped to help nile up. champ.

nicky shooting noriko through andy was cool. rip to the concept since it wont happen in tog2

wanna see mr ejiofor deliver this line

on that note imo copley was. weirdly enough, more interesting in fm than in tog1. to me at least. the fact that andy let him live and he was so haunted by what had happened that he came back and sought them out despite knowing they would likely kill him for it bc he wanted to not only make up for what hed done but also to tell them what theyd done for the world was admittedly more interesting than andy just kind of drafting him to the cause and him going 'okie'

i like how nicky was drawn in this one. in opening fire he looks like a blob man but in fm he looks more like a very nice grampa with a very good dye job

'theres no pain like a broken heart' andy 🥺

noriko implying andy's never drowned. .. .idk about that one, she musta drowned sometime

joe and nicky came, they waxed poetic about nile's love life, they waxed poetic about grog, and then they left.

sports bras being a reason humanity is good. i mean..... okay, yeah.

i mean. wild but you cant exactly tell her shes wrong

i liked how noriko telling andy that their purpose is to make people suffer coincides with joe and nicky finding out that they actually did good all those years

joenicky in opening fire: jail for booker jail for booker for 100 years

joenicky when copley tells them he knows where booker is: WE'LL KILL YOU WHERE IS HE

joenicky when copley comes back: if your vibes come off as even remotely rancid we Will destroy you

joenicky 2 minutes later when copley helped them find booker: he made up some ground :)))) <3 lov you j cops

theyre forgiving af

moose: how old are you?? a hundred??? a thousand???

nile [vine voice]: I M 2 7 ?

alright andy you got me there

joe texts like my aunt

i dont know why noriko drowning andy in that car tickled me. Bad And Naughty Andromaches Get Put In The Pear Wiggler To Atone For Their Crimes.

the drowning sequence was cool

copley trying to talk to andy while she was like o_o at him was great

ive hit the picture limit but id seen that panel where nicky goes 'forgive me' as he kills a guy out of context and it was HILARIOUSLY anticlimactic for me to discover that there was literally no context to it. nicky just apologizes to random people he kills. i thought that guy was someone he knew or something. nope its just Some Guy that nicky didnt know from adam

nile's complaint that andy was especially brutal to the guys on the boat... i mean. . , how exactly does one kill a man with an axe and not be brutal about it?

it was funny how noriko kissed andy and the only people who seemed surprised by that were nile and also andy

nicky and joe's complete non-reaction to finding out noriko is alive And Evil Now is endlesly funny. they just left her on that boat and neither cared. i get book and nile not caring but joe and nicky knew her, and they just have 0 input on the subject of what to do with her

pinstripe suit guy!

joe and nicky and booker packing up and leaving with nile

andy blowing up at nile was A Moment tho

i dont know, i get why people didnt like the ending but its. .. . it makes more sense in the comicverse. bc the squad doesnt really. .. interact outside of jobs? i mean, think of the moon landing story in ttt. that was booker and joe and nicky doing a job and andy only showed up a for a couple minutes after it was done. or the brunch in the first issue of opening fire. the squad arent as tight in the comic, and andy often seems to do her own thing outside of work, so andy saying 'i dont want to do work anymore' and the squad being like 'alright bye then' makes more sense in this universe than the movie one

also i feel like greg was Trying to set up a thing where nile becomes the Leader of The Squad after andy dies but like. its not very well done since. . . i mean, nile hasnt spoken to booker since opening fire, (and she only knew him A Day). and shes known joe and nicky all that time, but there isnt really anything that indicates that they have any relationship at all, much less one that's grown. in all the comicverse the only time nile and nicky speak is in FM, and in that scene nicky tells nile about noriko. nile goes from someone who needs to be set aside to have background knowledge explained to her to being the Leader of the group with nothing in between. it kind of... comes out of nowhere.

on the other hand tho... i felt really bad for andy thru the whole thing. well, i always felt bad for andy, but in this one she seemed so miserable, especially since it really felt like none of the others actually.... cared about her. when noriko came back no one asked andy how she was doing (big question ik, but it wouldve showed they cared at least), nobody ever expressed any concern for her, no one even really seemed to want to be around her. in opening fire everyone was more distant than in the movie of course, but there were little moments where she would joke with joe, or nicky would try and comfort her, or stuff like that, but in FM it really felt like they just didnt really care about her. & in opening fire it felt a lot like andy's relationship with nile breathed some new life into her, but in FM it felt like all they did was argue. i get theyre not *as* close in the comics but it really felt like the only person who cared about andy at all was noriko (which was probably also how andy felt) but it just seemed to come out of nowhere. honestly i was reading and i was honestly agreeing with andy that she might just be better off if she did just die. opening fire, on the other hand, never make me feel that way

tho everyone made it sound like when the squad split up it was one of those cursed 'the found family leaves each other at the end of the journey' tropes. but guys i mean,,, this is the second installment out of three. that isnt the End. theyll come back in the third one and Dramatically Reunite to fight some baddies (probably those 'others' noriko mentioned). im guessing yitzhak fits into that too somehow.

anyways it wasnt That Bad but it made me kind of sad and the only Sweet Found Family vibes in it were when they saved booker. also they shouldve beefed up that nilemoose romance, it underwhelmed me. 6.5/10

i also ABSOLUTELY understand all of greg's comments about how you couldnt make FM directly into a movie, he always said that it had no plot and. i get it now. it really didnt have a plot sdfghjkl

[thegraystreaks]

i just read your fics on ao3 and they were so good, i love missing moments from canon! Idk if you ever take prompts but if you do i would really love to read a different way for percabeth to get together in canon?

anon, the way you got me to write something for the first time in ages….

anyway this is super self indulgent but I had a lot of fun writing it!! thank u for your kinds words I would die for you probably!!

this takes place during botl, the day Percy comes back from Ogygia, sometime after Annabeth storms out of the Big House.

-

“Annabeth glared at me. You are the single most annoying person I’ve ever met!” And she stormed out of the room.

I stared at the doorway. I felt like hitting something. “So much for being the bravest friend she’s ever had.”

-

He finds Annabeth in the arena. It’s empty save for her — everyone knows by now that sparring with her while she’s like this never leads to anything good. So she’s taking on a dummy, her anger apparent in the rigid lines of her body, fury in the force behind her blows. She rolls and kicks, dodging imaginary attacks, and Percy could swear that the air is thick, charged, like the feeling before a thunderstorm. Which is stupid — it’s camp, and the magical borders keep the sky cloudless as always. 

As he approaches, the only acknowledgement of his presence is her intensified rage, the way her blade slashes and hacks with renewed vigor. They’re gonna need to replace that dummy, he thinks.

“Can we talk?”

She wheels to face him, thunder in her eyes. For a moment, he’s scared he’ll need to pull out Riptide. She turns to the dummy one last time and stabs it straight through the heart. “You wanna talk? Then go ahead.”

He swallows nervously. Now that he’s got her attention, he doesn’t quite know where to start. His mind flashes to last winter, and how distraught he was when she had been kidnapped. How he’d have done anything to get her back. How he just knew that she couldn’t be dead. He reaches out hesitantly, but pulls his arm back when he glances at the hilt of the blade, still sticking out of the dummy. 

“I was thinking about how upset I was last winter, when you were kidnapped. That, um — well, ‘sucked’ doesn’t really cover it. That was awful. I really am sorry that I worried you.”

Something shifts in her eyes, and he can see the hurt dripping through the cracks of her anger.  “You couldn’t send an Iris Message? I thought you were dead, Percy.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Drachmas were a bit hard to come by on the island.”

“Ha,” she laughs drily. She pauses to wipe at the sweat on her brow. “What was she like?” The words drip with contempt.

“I don’t — who?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she scoffs. “Calypso. What was she like?”

Air rushes out of Percy’s lungs. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Chiron was right, then. She had figured out where he’d been. 

“Does it matter?”

“Well, you spent two full weeks there, so I can’t imagine she looks like the ancient hag she is. How old is she again? Two-thousand? Or is it three?”

“Annabeth—”

“Two weeks, Percy!” she cries.

“I’m sorry, okay? Time was weird there!” 

“Oh, time was weird, that’s your excuse?”

“Yeah, that’s my excuse!” he shoots back.  “And I wasn’t just laying on a beach being fed grapes or something, I was recovering! From being blown up!”

That seems to drain some of the fight from her. She looks away, and her voice shrinks down: “I’m sorry you were hurt. I—I hate seeing you hurt.” 

In the silence that follows, he thinks inexplicably of Aphrodite coming to visit him last winter, the limo so out of place in the desert. The way that she had appeared, if only for a second, like the girl in front of him. How she had promised she wouldn’t let his love life be “easy and boring”. Gods, why couldn’t it be? The rest of his life is crazy enough. 

He had hoped, briefly, that Aphrodite might’ve forgotten about her promise when they’d returned to Olympus. He remembers a slow, sad song, and his hands on Annabeth’s waist as they had swayed. How it had felt like the pieces were maybe finally starting to fall into place. The memory seems worlds away.

“Annabeth, listen. I’m sorry I was gone so long. But I didn’t choose to be sent there. And—and I came back.”

“Duh, Percy,” she rolls her eyes. “That’s her curse.”

“Okay, you’re right.” She turns away. He reaches out, more confident now, and takes hold of her arm. “But curse or not, I chose to come back.”

She pulls her arm out of his grip. “Yeah, so that you could tell me I have to bring some mortal girl to lead my quest!”

“What does Rachel have to do with this?”

“Are you fucking serious?” she shouts. He can see the walls building back up, the storm returning in her eyes. She whips around and yanks her dagger out of the sparring dummy, kicking up dirt as she begins to stalk away.

This was not how he wanted this to go, not his intent when he came to find her. Of all the ways returning to camp might’ve gone, he had never imagined it like this. He tries to reconcile the girl that kissed him in the mountain with this one, who can’t go more than a minute without yelling at him, that won’t stop running off. Why is this so complicated? She kissed him, right? Isn’t that supposed to be it? The happy ending? If movies told him anything, it was that the kiss means you get the girl. It shouldn’t be this hard. It wouldn’t be, he thinks bitterly, if she would quit storming off.

“Gods, would you stop running away when we’re talking?” he shouts after her. “Would it kill you to stick around and listen to me?”

He’s taken aback when she actually turns around, arms crossed and foot tapping. “Well?” 

Percy blinks. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. Shit, what is he trying to say? “You know, Calypso offered me immortality. I could’ve escaped the prophecy, I could’ve lived in paradise forever—”

That probably wasn’t what he should’ve led with. “If you want me to ‘stick around and listen’, you’re off to a terrible start,” she seethes.

He steamrolls on anyway: “—but I didn’t, I didn’t take her offer, because — well, because of Grover and Tyson, and the quest isn’t over yet, but also because—” he stops. He’s rambling. Focus. How can he say this? “Did you really kiss me back there, or did I make that up in my head?” 

She freezes. Silence stretches out between them, and Percy kind of wants the ground to swallow him whole. But it’s out there, now. Might as well go all in. “I really hope you did, because I’m gonna feel insanely stupid if it was just some volcanic-explosion-induced fever dream.” 

Slowly, she unfreezes. Nods. “Uh. Yeah, I did.”

He takes a step closer. “I don’t care about ‘some mortal girl’. At least, not the way I care about….about you.” He can feel the blood rushing in his ears, can feel his heart beating painfully fast. She’s still just standing there, staring and staring but not moving. She’s not saying anything, why isn’t she saying anything?

“Gods, can you throw me a bone, Annabeth? I feel like I’m dying here—”

He’s cut off when she lunges forward and kisses him. It’s like their first kiss in two ways: it’s over before he can even react, and it leaves him staring, dumbfounded. How is it that she’s caught him off-guard with this not once, but twice now?

“Think you’ll remember that one was real?” she asks, still only inches from his face. Her breath smells of strawberries, and her eyes are puffy from his almost-funeral, but the storm in them begins to clear. 

He laughs, bright and full. “You should probably kiss me one more time, just to be safe.”

“Hmm,” she considers, arms coming up around his neck. “Should I count down so that you can be ready this time?”

He groans. “You are so not making this easy.”

“I am never, ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain. Get used to it.”

“Gods, you’re insufferable. It shouldn’t be this cute.”

“Three, two—”

He’s on her before she reaches one, one hand pulling her closer at the waist and the other finding her cheek. When their lips meet, it feels like everything he’s been waiting for. Like the clouds parting, like sunshine, like warmth, like happiness.

It may not be their first kiss, but it’s their best yet.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 288: ZOOM AND ENHANCE

Previously on BnHA: Tomura, AFO, Deku, and Nana all met up inside of OFA and were all, “wow this is awkward.” AFO talked a whole bunch about vestiges before realizing that nobody cared (EXCEPT FOR ME. I CARED!!), and was then all “anyway so just to get everyone up to speed here, Tomura is Nana’s grandson.” OFA appeared and was all “what up bro I see you’re still a dick”, and then everyone stood around for a bit waging psychokinetic war on each other and blowing up on the ground and shit. This didn’t really accomplish anything, so AFO shifted gears and started trash talking Deku instead, because he’s a whiny little punkass loser who can’t admit when his brother has gotten the best of him yet again! OFA was all “anyways Deku rules and haters gonna hate, peace”, and then everyone wooshed back out of OFA and back into the real world, Deku with his quirk still intact. Meanwhile Gigantomachia and the LoV stampeded ever closer to the city, and Toga started monologuing in preparation for a seemingly inevitable battle with Ochako! And then the chapter basically just ended there lol.

Today on BnHA: Imagine you are Uraraka Ochako. And you’re out here doing what you do best, saving bitches and being a badass, when all of a sudden some old lady runs up to you and is all “PLEASE HELP ME, MY HUSBAND IS ASLEEP OR SOME SHIT, YOU KNOW US OLD PEOPLE, WE’RE SO FUCKING FEEBLE AND HAPLESS.” And so you’re all “OF COURSE” because you’re a good fucking person, and then she speeds off like she’s got fucking wheels and it’s like damn, grandma, were you in varsity track or what, and then OUT OF NOWHERE she just spontaneously turns into HIMIKO FUCKING TOGA. And she’s all naked and shit, and it’s like damn, Toga, where are your clothes, and she just giggles and ducks into a nearby building. And so you follow her for god knows what reason, and she fucking pounces on you and starts interrogating you in like the most seductive way possible, and you’re all wtf is this. Like, can you even imagine. Anyway so Ochako is having quite a day.

okay lol so I’ve gotta kind of rush through this since I’ve got other stuff I need to wrap up today as well, so! fingers crossed that we get a nice, simple chapter with no controversies or elaborate revelations or anything like that! just give me lots of stuff to mindlessly keysmash about, Horikoshi. I’m counting on you bro

lol what

an actual fucking plane?? is that allowed?? how bizarrely normal. are we sure this plane does not shoot lasers or something or is powered by someone with like a fusion reactor quirk idk

and who tf is Takeo-san. some random guy Horikoshi is suddenly introducing after 300 chapters to come save everyone at the last minute? pretty sus. Horikoshi is this your self insert

GASP

NO WAY THIS IS ALL MIGHT, RIGHT?? holy shit I swear to god if it’s All Might this lady needs to TURN THE FUCK AROUND RIGHT NOW. stop at McDonalds, order a black coffee for herself and only herself, and drive the rest of the way back home without so much as a bathroom break. there are certain prophecies which we don’t need to be tempting right now, okay people?? holy shit

(ETA: OR, here’s a thought, WHAT IF IT’S BEST JEANIST. hope springs eternal lmao. anyways though surely it’s not actually All Might. he can’t die yet, he’s got like 5 million secret things he needs to explain to Deku, and also Kacchan is unconscious and he can’t just SLEEP RIGHT THROUGH ALL MIGHT’S DEATH like come on.)

oh look more heroes all lining up to be slaughtered by Machia

real talk, at this point their priority should just be evacuating any citizens in Machia’s path, and then getting the fuck out of his way. none of them stand a chance in hell at stopping him and they know it. the body count is already high enough as it is. regroup and live to fight another day, people

anyway, so Machia is apparently plowing through cities at 100km per hour. that... actually might not be fast enough. Gunga and Jakku were 80km apart, so at that rate it would take him nearly an hour to reach Tomura. that fight’s gonna be long done by the time they get there. huh

okay these guys are saying he’s going to reach them in about 8 minutes. ?? so are you telling me Tomura and Deku and the rest have been fighting for like 40 minutes already?? lmao Gran probably bled to death half an hour ago at this rate. Horikoshi please explain yourself. some of us spent our entire childhoods doodling comics instead of paying attention in math and science AND IT SHOWS

anyway so this is all very bad and this guy is really rubbing it in just how bad it is

I mean... yeah. obviously the villains are still to blame at the core of it all, but yeah. feels like you all could have planned a hell of a lot better for this. you knew there was the risk of Tomura waking up, and you knew there was also the risk of Gigantomachia waking up as well. and you pretty much had no contingency plan at all huh. society is really gonna be in shambles after this

lmao look at this shit. Machia is so big at this point that it looks like they’re having a picnic in the middle of some desert somewhere. at what point does it cease being a guy’s back and start being its own zip code

even has its own wifi. amazing

oh shit Compress apparently spotted someone and he’s asking Skeptic to “zoom and enhance” like it’s CS fucking I. that’s not how it works Compress you fucking boomer

anyway so OF COURSE,

was there a reason you needed to zoom in on them, other than to trigger Toga?? some people just want to watch the world burn

so Toga is now GEARIN’ UP!!

that honestly is so fucking handy. over at U.A. they have to carry their gear in briefcases like scrubs. does Compress actually have the best quirk in the world?? it flies under the radar so well that I always forget about it, but like WHAT CAN’T IT DO though, y’know??

WELL WHAT DID YOU THINK WAS GONNA HAPPEN MY DUDE

“oh hey is that the U.A. kids? Skeptic could you please zoom in on them for absolutely no reason? OH MY GOD TOGA IS RUNNING OFF TO FIGHT THEM, OH MY GOD WHO COULD HAVE FORESEEN, OH MY GOD”

now he’s all “DABI PLEASE DO SOMETHING” but Dabi is all “DABI DON’T CARE”

Dabi don’t care about NOTHING OR NO ONE!! Dabi don’t got time for this

lmao I literally forgot that Spinner was even there, shit

so are you gonna go with her then or not? because I got news for you dude, it doesn’t matter how heartwarming your speech is, nothing can stop this girl now that she’s gone full distracted boyfriend meme

AW BUT IT REALLY IS HEARTWARMING THOUGH

Spinner is the glue keeping this dysfunctional Addams family together honestly. too bad he couldn’t stop Compress from OPENING HIS BIG DUMB MOUTH ah well

lmao but he’s letting her go anyway though

Spinner for new LoV President. all in favor??

ANYWAYS LOL THIS IS BAD

“ACCELERATE EVACUATIONS” LOL WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO OCHAKO HE’S MOVING AT 100KM AN HOUR AND HE’S LIKE FUCKING GODZILLA SIZED FKJLK

“PLEASE RUN OUTSIDE OF THE VILLAIN’S PERIPHERY” well thank fucking god the people have you guys to guide them what would they even do without you lklkhlkds

NO HORIKOSHI DON’T YOU DARE

IF YOU HURT MY GIRL FROPPY I SWEAR TO GOD!! LEAVE HER ALONE YOU BRIGAND

OH THANK GOD

“sorry for SAVING YOUR LIFE” smh. anyway so how fucking badass is Ochako though?? can we just talk about this. THE GIRL POWER ARC STRIKES AGAIN hot damn

(ETA: and btw, seeing as Iida is nowhere to be found, I’d say odds are pretty good that they did in fact send him to go warn the Endeavorsquad of Gigantomachia’s imminent arrival. godspeed Iida! they need all the help they can get right now honestly.)

EXCUSE ME BUT ARE YOU TOGA

IS THIS TOGA. THIS IS DEFINITELY TOGA OMG

“I IMMEDIATELY TRUST YOU AND I WILL FOLLOW YOU TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH” noooo Ochako nooooo

damn Toga you really drained some poor old lady’s blood just so you could pull this kind of sneaky shit. I forgot how much I loved you

ohhhh lol so it’s her “husband” that is Takeo-san lol

THE BETTER TO LURE YOU INTO A TRAP MY DEAR

lmao Ochako you rube

now you’ve done it Toga. there is nothing Ochako loves more than a good old fashioned Old People Romance. DID YOU KNOW SHE HAS SEEN THE NOTEBOOK LIKE FIFTY TIMES. AND NO MATTER WHAT, IT ALWAYS GETS HER AT THE END. meanwhile I just want to watch a movie where James Marsden actually gets the girl for once but we all know that will never happen

OH MY

ngl this page would be like a thousand times better if Ochako was still blushing omg. did I ship this before?? I honestly can’t remember but I sure as fuck ship it now goddammit

(ETA: pretty sure I shipped it back during the Forest arc too but I don’t have time to check right now lol. but Toga is just so horny on main for everyone, all the time, and so like, it’s hard not to ship it.)

so now Toga is running off all flirtatiously and Ochako is barreling after her lol

plot twist, Takeo-san is actually in there. and he has NO IDEA what’s going on. WHAT HAPPENED TO MY WIFE. WHY IS THERE A GIANT MOLE MAN BURROWING THROUGH THE CITY

Ochako why on earth would you follow Toga into this dark creepy house where she could spring at you from any angle out of nowhere. just go back outside and float up over it until you have a high enough vantage point to see all the exits and just wait for her to come out

Toga says she wanted to talk to Tsuyu-chan as well, but let’s be real, you and her don’t have the same kind of electrically charged kismesis energy that you’ve got going on with Ochako though

LMAO DEKU NOWHERE IS SAFE

getting dragged like a fucking wedding train and he’s not even there to defend himself, shit

blah blah blah just ask her your question already Toga

MY WORD

would someone please inform Toga that this manga is only rated PG-13

so now Ochako is all “seriously Toga wtf”

you see that’s what I wanted to know too, lol. I really like that the characters actually think about these things and ask these kind of questions. that’s exactly the contrast between the heroes and the villains right there. the villains care about each other, they’ll give each other heartwarming speeches to please come back alive, and yet they’re utterly indifferent to the thousands of people being killed as they demolish their way through city after city. meanwhile by contrast Ochako’s first thought upon being erotically waylaid by her sexy knife-wielding archnemesis is “but what about that poor old lady is she all right.” just completely opposite energies, almost to a hilarious degree. like maybe Ochako actually should worry about herself just a little bit more lol but heroes gonna hero

and so now what, Toga!! you’re gonna pout about it?? like she’s betrayed you somehow?

anyway so that’s the end of the chapter! and I’ll just come right out and say that I’m hoping that this fight ends up being something where Toga maybe starts to see things just a little bit more from Ochako’s point of view, and not the other way around, because otherwise I’ll be a little frustrated, ngl. the manga has done an excellent job of making the villains likeable and relatable and getting us to sympathize with them up till this point, but at some point it’s got to start refuting some of these arguments and making it clear that the villains do not actually have any kind of moral high ground here

and also! I really like Toga and would like her to have some kind of redemption arc! but as of now that’s looking to be really difficult if not impossible to pull off, because Toga hasn’t exactly shown a whole lot of remorse for anything she’s done so far, you know? because she doesn’t see it as bad in any way; to her it’s just her way of expressing love, and being true to who she is. but being true to yourself really should NOT involve, you know, MURDER, and so yeah. it’s a problem lmao

but who knows! maybe this battle with Ochako will be the start of something which eventually leads to some sort of change within her! I have absolutely no idea how that could play out tbh, but even so I can hope! either that or she will double down on the whole “villains are victims and heroes are apathetic cruel hypocrites” ideology and decide she wants to kill Ochako and Izuku for breaking her heart, in which case I will be very sad, but I guess if that’s the way Horikoshi’s gonna play it it is what it is!

and lastly, so is this going to be like the final battle between them or something?? surely not, right? like this is just round 2 of 3. well at any rate, it’s sure going to be interesting

[sondepoch]

Do You Regret It? (Lucifer x Reader)

Lucifer’s pact mark is a reflection of his pride: subtle, yet demanding all the attention. Small, yet impossible to miss. Delicate, yet overpowering everything else. One day, he catches you staring at it. And he asks you a question.

~Oneshot 

MASTERLIST

"Do you regret it?"

You spin around to the source of the voice, flashing the intruder a disapproving stare once your eyes settle over the familiar figure.

"You need to start knocking," You mutter, crossing your arms. It's not the first time you've made the request; Lucifer has heard it from your lips a thousand times before. But never have you meant it so wholeheartedly. After all, it's at times like these when you need Lucifer to knock the most, times when you're vulnerable and concerned and completely lost to the world around you.

Lucifer simply laughs, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest as he walks forward.

He's quick to trap you in an embrace, one that's slightly reluctant on your end. And yet, you can't help but relax when he gently presses your back to his chest, turning you around so that you're facing the mirror once more. His fingers trail from your cheek to your jaw, angling your chin upward just the slightest so that he has better access to your face, and though you can tell he's staring straight at your face through the mirror, you know it's not your eyes he's looking at.

"Do you regret it?" He repeats, and this time, his voice is even softer. His gaze shifts just the slightest, and now you know he really is looking you straight in the eye.

You stare at him for a second, trying to figure out what's going through his mind. What does he want you to say? That you like having your face branded with his mark, that you enjoy the stares it's already earned you from the other demons?

Your gaze drops, and you stare at your reflection. Trying your hardest to ignore the delicate diamond positioned on your forehead.

Silence.

And then the sound of your reluctant sigh.

"I don't know," You finally confess, sheepishly raising your gaze to Lucifer. "It's just…"

"Strange?" He asks, chuckling.

You nod. "It's like I can feel it on me. Even when I'm not looking at it. And the moment I forget, others stare at it, and I remember all over again…"

Lucifer sighs softly, pulling you away from the mirror and onto your bed. The structure itself is quite giant, but Lucifer insists on keeping you close as he effortlessly lifts your body onto it, settling you down on his lap.

It's the first time he's held you close in any place other than his own study or bedroom, but you don't mention it as he presses your back against his chest, gently stroking your hair. It's oddly intimate, you think. More intimate and more loving than anything you've ever done with the Avatar of Pride.

"Do you know why demonic pacts manifest in the form of markings on the human body?" He asks abruptly.

"To show that we belong to you?" It's your best guess. "So that we don't forget?"

"Close," Lucifer murmurs. "But not quite. Just as you give us a piece of your freedom when you bind yourself to us, the exchange is completed only once we've bound part of our essence to you."

Lucifer's hand trails from your hair to your stomach, his palm flattening against the surface of your abdomen. He's seen you naked enough times to know exactly how large the pact mark there is, and a shudder runs down your spine the second his fingers make contact with the skin there, a rush of magic swelling through your body.

"Beel," He whispers into your ear. "He passed a piece of his gluttony to you when the pact formed. Your hunger is no longer yours, but mixed with his own."

"Levi." He taps at the spot above your heart. "You see the world through his lens, now. You may not realize it, but his envy has seeped into your life, and you will never be free from it."

"Mammon," Lucifer murmurs, his hand sliding to behind your back. "His greed is easy to forget, but it always lurks in the depths of your heart. At the back, where you may never notice it, but always present and eternally fueling your desire for more."

"Asmo." Lucifer slips a hand under your shirt and taps your side, running his fingers along the pact mark that wraps around the thinnest part of your waist. He doesn't need to explain this one, doesn't need to explain how the fifth-born has bound you with a belt that forever holds you close to his lust. "Belphie," He gestures, glancing toward the pact mark that snakes up your left leg, just as sloth itself has you caught in a silent pull that always compels you to its side for just five more minutes of whatever indolence you allow yourself to indulge in. "Satan," He finishes, tapping the back of your neck, just underneath your brain, where your blood pounds loudest on the rare occasion when you give in to the temptation wrath.

"You have each of us inside you, and you can never free yourself of our sins."

Lucifer offers you a soft smile, withdrawing his hands from your body in favor of cupping your cheek.

"And now…" He murmurs, gazing up.

You watch as his gaze traces the pact mark on your forehead, studying it intently as if he could stare at it for centuries.

Pride, you see in his gaze. There's no denying it—no denying the proud look in his eyes as he stares upon your face, now marked with the very same symbol of his own, true form.

Lucifer licks his lips.

His pact mark is by far the smallest when compared to the rest of his brothers, and yet it stands out the most. Much like the Morningstar itself, his pride binds you quietly, impossibly small but louder than all else. He doesn't need a giant pact mark like Beel, or one that wraps around your entire waist like Asmo, to assert his charge over you.

All it takes is a small diamond.

Something runs down your body as you watch him continue to study you, and for the first time, you register it as pride that possesses you, pulsating quietly but distinctly from the small etching on your forehead.

"You're perfect," Lucifer whispers, and now he's not staring at the mark but is staring at your eyes, and you know that you've never looked as enticing to him before as you must look now, your own face a testimony to the fact that you belong to each other. "All of you."

And with this sudden confidence possessing you, there's no hesitation as you close the gap between your lips in a single, fluid movement, locking your lips against Lucifer's with such certainty that there's no room for doubt before the two of you are moving against each other, shifting and gasping and moaning.

You close your eyes and lose yourself in the sensation as Lucifer takes control, pushing you down on the bed.

How many times have you been through this before? A quiet cry spills from your lips when the demon nips at your neck, and your arms fly around his chest to pull him even closer.

You open your eyes when you feel a shift above you, a sudden wave of power washing through your bodies, and you blink when the sight before you registers.

Horns.

You gasp lightly.

And wings.

Your eyes trail to Lucifer's face, trained on the black mark that looks oh-so-natural against the demon's porcelain skin as he hovers above you in his true form.

"This is what it means to be mine," He says, his words ringing richly through your ears. Your mouth hangs open just the slightest, staring in awe as Lucifer's hard gaze washes over you. His eyes have never looked as serious as they look now, staring at you so intently that you can't even break his gaze to look up at the beautiful mark that now seems to complete his face. "Do you regret taking my pride, taking my burden?"

My pride.

You stare deep into Lucifer's eyes, past the brilliant crimson, and into the abyss of emotion that lies underneath.

My burden.

Your eyes raise to the mark on his forehead, a mark so distinctive that it brands him even now—an emblem that tells Lucifer's entire tale, from his grace to his fall, in a single marking.

And you understand.

Lucifer's pact is one that you cannot bear unless you have the pride to go with it. It is a natural fuel for the confidence that already exists within your heart, not just a piece of Lucifer's pride but a design meant to propel your own to match his, binding you two together by something more intimate than even the closeness you already share.

"Do you regret it?!"

Lucifer's grip on your wrists tighten, and you see the beginnings of anger begin to swirl in those beautiful eyes of his as you keep him waiting. His tone, meant to come across as demanding and formidable, sounds nothing but painfully genuine as his question falls upon your ears, and you feel blissfully calm as you gaze up at him.

"No," You whisper, silently removing your wrists from Lucifer's hold. You raise your hands to cup his cheeks, not missing the way his eyes widen as you do so.

Before, you would never have dared to try something so bold with the firstborn demon, always leaving it up to him to take control of the situation and tell you with his actions what would and wouldn't be permitted. But now, the pride Lucifer has kindled in your heart burns a brilliant blaze, one that acts as a fiery shield that protects you from anything or anyone that might try to hurt you.

You move one of your hands from Lucifer's cheek to the back of his head, threading your fingers through the raven locks and gently pushing his head down until your foreheads are touching.

You close your eyes.

The sensation of power and pride washes over you, the diamond on your forehead seeming to pulsate in response to the one on Lucifer's own. You feel nothing but peace as you bask in the sensation.

"I don't."

MASTERLIST

Word count: 1.7k

Notes: i keep telling myself that im not a lucifer stan, but ive written over 60k words of JUST him so maybe im lying to myself idk anymore man

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

[botwstoriesandsuch]

Idk if you do ship ask but I've always hc that most ritos are affraid of thunder, since that could very easily harm/kill something flying (like a rito), so do you have any headcanons about link comforting revali during a thunderstorm?

Heya! Thanks for sending this ask, I had so much fun writing it! If you wanna know why it took so long, it’s because I accidentally keep making these essentially oneshots instead of headcanons...I get too wrapped up in the atmosphere lmao. 

Anyhow, please enjoy, and thanks for your patience! :P

Revalink during a thunderstorm: 

2553 words

Revali always thought green was a decent color, it paired well with his evening blue feathers and eyes after all

But this trip was really challenging his beliefs…

“Tree. Tree. Large tree. Giant tree. Leaf. Bush. Greenery. Tree. Giant leaf. A verdant green. Emerald green. Fern green…” He listed off his observations rhythmically

Revali suddenly stopped walking, patting Link on the back. 

“Why Link, you won’t believe this, but if you look up now, you can experience this rare sight of a tree. Impressive isn’t it?”

Link turned his head to see Revali gesture grandly at the Faron scenery, before rolling his eyes. ‘You’re such an ass…’

The Rito smirked, content with the annoyance he was causing Link, before continuing to walk beside him, pointing out the “variety” of nature. 

He had been traveling with Link across the jungles of Faron, helping him fly over the waterfalls and rivers for...reasons he had forgotten. Something ordered by the Princess? Checking Shrines? Updating ruin locations? Something, something, Zonai, Sheikah, database...and other nonsense words that Revali didn’t really care for, point was, “this expedition would run all the more smoothly with your skill set,” so, here he was. 

In hindsight that was probably only said to flatter him into coming, but it’s not like Revali was going to complain. One on one time with Link wasn’t an opportunity he would have passed up on, anyway

Walking under the lush forest canopy, Revali picked at the 700th vine tangled in Link’s hair. “This exploration stuff sure is paying off...I’m experiencing so many new things. Like plants, and water, and bugs. Never could have experienced this anywhere else.”

Link raised an eyebrow, holding up his hands to sign, ‘Come on now, don’t be like that. We’ll be done with this soon, so quit being pretentious for two seconds and enjoy the beauty of nature!’

Right, because the beauty of the sweltering, sickly green, claustrophobic jungle crawling with insects and slimy creatures, dwelling in a sticky, sappy, foliage that seemed to tie your wings down to the earth with it’s grasping vines and prickly leaves… THAT was just the thing for a Rito from Tabantha to enjoy

Revali clicked his tongue. “You think I’m the pretentious one? That one leaf is the size of a Hinox’s arse. What’s even the point of that?? Do the lizards hate the sky that much?” He gestured towards the thick canopy above once again

Link’s expression suddenly changed as he peered through the leaves, noting how the sky’s sunset colors had started to darken with greying clouds. He spoke bluntly

‘There’s a storm coming.’

“Oh? Wonderful…”

‘I think there’s a cave we can use for shelter near the northernmost waterfall.’

“Think? My ability of flight, and overall state of being, is not suited for moisture, so I’d really prefer if you were a bit more certain than, ‘think!’”

‘Well we can always sleep out here if you want… We’ll have to stay overnight judging by the size of those storm clouds.’

Revali shuddered as another sapphire blue lizard crawled across the forest floor near his talons, much too close for comfort. The image of laying down in the dirt, being mocked by the infectious green that covered the sky, for over eight hours, he audibly groaned. 

Fine, hypothetical cave it is. 

“Get on my back already. The sooner the day is done, the better, I suppose.”

Flying through the air, Revali feathers rustled in the growing wind, he could start to smell the storm in the air. Thankfully, Link’s cave turned out to be real, providing dry shelter from the oncoming, feather-drenching rain, thank Hylia. If he had to do his braids and ribbons again after he spent all morning just—

BOOM!

Not two seconds after Revali had landed them both in the cave, a deafening sound shook the ground and carried Revali’s soul to hell, heaven, and back. The sound that escaped his beak was none short of a shrill squeak you might hear come out of a thousand baby birds.

Behind them, green sparks fizzed against the earth, starting a small fire, before it was quickly extinguished by the now pouring rain. 

Revali shuddered, shaking off the few droplets on his wing. His feathers seemed to tremble from the charge in the air, and his mind was racing with thoughts of what would have happened if he was two seconds slower in his descent, but he concealed it all with a neutral frown.

“This forest is lucky the rain started, that bright explosion of death nearly made me think we were under attack, I’d have nocked a bomb arrow or two.” 

‘The...thunder and lightning, you mean?’

“Shut up I know what lightning is.”

‘I guess it makes sense you’re not that familiar...the most action you’ll see in Rito Village is cold winds and snow.’

“I said I know what lightning is.”

‘Oh, don’t worry, I heard you. I heard you very clearly a few seconds ago…’

Revali let out a few “hmphs” before sitting down on the cave floor. Link started to chuckle to himself before starting a fire, the cave was wide enough for the smoke to escape and not suffocate them, and it’s warmth was welcomed wholeheartedly by the Rito Champion.

Link thought that would be the end of it, Revali volunteered to take the first night watch, and the Hylian thought nothing of it. Before either of them knew it, Link had somehow drifted off into a peaceful sleep 

BOOM!

Another crack of thunder. Sure, thunder had been roaring in air for the last two or three hours, but this time the lightning struck close enough to the cave that Link could feel the vibration against the earth. 

He rose with a yawn, stretching his arms as if he had been woken by chirping birds, and not the midnight sky’s roars

Glancing towards Revali’s direction, concern started to creep onto Link’s face, as he watched the Rito with furrowed eyebrows and a frown

As far as he could tell, Revali hadn’t moved an ant’s inch from when Link had last seen him before he dozed off. His jade eyes were fixed on the jungle, and the feathers on his neck seemed to raise everything the sky glowed a shocking flash of green. 

Despite having sat up from the fire, Revali didn’t seem to notice that Link had woken. 

Link waved his arm in front of him, trying to catch the Rito’s gaze. 

‘Hey? You ok?’

Link’s actions cut into Revali’s tumbling thoughts, but he quickly recovered from his initial shock with a click of his tongue

“I’m fine. Just watching to make sure your tired person doesn’t get ambushed by some crafty lizalfo. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Link paused, but in the end, he nodded his head in acceptance. ‘Alrighty then. Well, you go ahead and get some rest. I can take the next watch.’

“...ah. Right.” 

Revali awkwardly shuffled closer to the fire, pinning his back a bit deeper into the shallow cave. 

He didn’t bother to lie down

‘Are you sure you’re ok?’

“I’m fine. I’m just not tired yet is all”

‘Well you should try to get some sleep, cause tomorro—’

“Yes, I’m well aware, I don’t need the reminder of our schedule.”

‘It would probably help to not face the forest, cause the movement and noises can be distracting when you’re trying to sl—’

“Yes. I understand, thank you. As I said I’m not tired so—”

‘But Revali, I just said—’

“Look! I’m fine, stop pestering me about it, OK? All I want is to just be able to—” 

BOOM!

Comically— or perhaps in this atmosphere, un-comically— a lizard fell off the side of a tree near the cave’s mouth, visibly fried and very much dead

Link, ever the survivalist, grew excited at the prospect of a free elixir ingredient, but as he turned to Revali to share this good news, he was greeted with a very still Rito, his feathers pressed stiffly against himself as he seemed to be holding down his other wing, presumably because it was shivering. 

That was strange, considering Link had taken care to keep the firewood stocked. He looked at Revali again, his green eyes seemed to be swirling with racing thoughts and fears  

......fears…

Hylia he was an idiot

Although in fairness, it works both ways

‘I’m sorry...I should have realized you had a greater fear of lightning given the circumstances…’

The Rito suddenly jerked his head, his voice rising in pitch by the second. “W-What?! I don’t know where you got that idea from. Circumstances?? I’ll have you know I’ve trained for years to be quite fearless.”

A sudden flash of light came from the corner of his eye, and Revali had to clamp his tongue to keep silent. If it weren’t for his feathers, he’d be as white as a dove.

‘Are you sure? I’d imagine the thought of thunderstorms are a lot worse for you Rito..’

‘You know, given all the rain, and the chance of being electrocuted, and shot out of the sky by a bolt of lightning, and the loud sounds that probably remind you of an avalanche or a bomb, and also falling out of the sk—’

Link suddenly cut himself off, realizing a bit too late that the explanation of the factors involved with thunder and lightning wouldn’t exactly help Revali’s attitude.

The Rito only stared at Link, his beak clamped shut. Finally, he let out a sigh.

“I’m fine.”

Silence, then a scoff from Link.

Yeah, right. 

He started pulling out an assortment of items from his small pouch—how Link magically managed to fit cart-fulls of apples, armour, and weapons in there was beyond him. Link joked that it was because of magic tree children, at least, Revali thought he was joking

‘Ah-ha! This should make you feel better!’

Link pulled out a golden helmet, it looked Gerudo in style, and it was covered in green, red, and blue gemstones 

‘This thing absorbs lightning, and disperses it, so you don’t get hurt!’

Revali raised an eyebrow, hesitant

‘No! Seriously! This thing has saved me dozens of times, it’s seen hundreds of storms, and it’s taken on countless lightning strikes directly on this part!!’ 

He pointed excitedly to the bright green gemstone’s at the helm’s crest.

Revali could only shift his weight in discomfort, and Link finally got the hint.

‘Ah right. Maybe the lightning prone object isn’t for you...but…’

Link pulled out a weird, flexible hat, in the shape of a fish. It’s giant eyes stared askew at the cave’s walls, and when Link put it on for demonstration purposes, it basically looked like an octorok had spat a starving fish on his hair

‘This little guy is called Lucky. He’s made out of this thing called rubber, and it’s supposed to help keep electricity from touching you. Pretty nifty fashion choice too, right?’

“I will be plucked dry and drowned before you catch me wearing that hideous thing.”

‘Lucky doesn’t appreciate your unkind words…’

A few more minutes pass by, Link unloading the items in his satchel in an attempt to ease Revali’s mind. But most suggestions failed to truly convince him. Occasionally, the storm would boom again, and Link would rub Revali’s wing gently, if only to keep his attention on the weird yellow mushrooms in his hand. Nonetheless, it was a small thing that the Rito appreciated.

After a few more rounds of talking, Revali finally sighed in defeat. “I appreciate your gesture Link, I truly do. But I’d really prefer to just, not think about lightning at all, rather than be surrounded by your cluster of trinkets and tools.”

“So again, it’s fine. I can just sit here and wait it out. Don’t torment me any further with your...endless basket of comfort foods. I do hope that you donate some of those to the needy, I can’t be seen walking around with a selfish, hoarding hero after all.”

Link ignored the quip and Revali’s attempt to deflect the conversation. 

‘Are you sure there’s nothing else I can offer you?’

Revali opened his beak to say no, before closing it. He looked Link up and down, from his fuzzy golden head, to his pathetic and dirty blue tunic, to his brimming, sky blue eyes. 

Revali opened and closed his beak again, before saying, “no, it’s OK.”

Link frowned, tapping his fingers to his chin. 

Then, he swiftly grabbed at the blue scarf around Revali’s neck.

“W-Wha—hey!”

‘Just borrowing this for a sec!’

Despite Revali’s attempts to retrieve it, Link was already unfurling the scarf to its full length and width. Surprisingly, it was long enough, long enough for Link’s plan, anyhow

He turned back to Revali. ‘Snuggle up closer to the fire. If we’re gonna sleep towards the back of the cave like this I’d prefer to be as warm as possible

Revali’s expression was indescribable, at least verbally. Through the power of writing I can only describe the expression as something that conveyed feelings such as:

?!?!?!!?!!??!?!?!?!!!??!?!?!!?!!? 

‘We’re gonna hug, you dense bastard’

Revali started to sputter out questions, and list of logical reasons as to why that suggestion was absurd. But suggestion turned to action as Link wordlessly wrapped the scarf around the two of them, before snuggling into Revali’s feathers.

On the brightside, Revali was stiff for different reasons, other than lightning. 

In hindsight that was probably part of his plan

The Rito was silent, as he struggled with the decision of either allowing himself to be comfortable, nestled with his favourite soft scarf, and his favourite (he would never admit it) Champion

Or to put up his usual quips and walls

Was Link annoyed about this? Happy?? 

Spirits above he was so embarrassed, Link was probably doing this out of pity, like some mother tending to an infant...

Or maybe it wasn’t like that...? Was it something else?? Some other feeling that had cause him to take such a drastic action to—

‘What’cha thinking about?’

Revali felt Link’s arms move under his wing, and he looked over at the Hylian. He looked so...tranquil, and relaxed...and...stunning....despite his terribly kept hair

“Nothing.”

Link raised his eyebrow, ‘Yeah?’

Revali narrowed his eyes in confusion, but nodded, to which Link turned back and nestly his face into his soft feathers.

What kind of a question is that? What am I thinking about? This situation that came out of no where of course!! 

What else would he be thinking abo—

...

Oh

The Rito could only smirk to himself finally putting together the pieces of Link’s scheme

Another moment of silence. At least, to Revali it was silent. The only sounds he could hear were of Link’s breathing, and his own heartbeat. 

The thunder whispered in the background

Revali smiled, while resting his beak on Link’s soft hair

Then finally, thoughts turned to dreams turned to peace; Revali slept sound as the rain pattered to the sound of his beating heart

HA god what a loser it’s so corny I could die. Who would even right such a thing ahahaahha— oh wait

[If you enjoyed this content, a like and a reblog is greatly appreciated! Let’s me know that I should make more, while also giving me that extra serotonin.]

[lesbianrobin]

have u done an analysis on endgame st ships? a penny for ur thoughts

i have not!! i would like two pennies please. my thoughts are not actually worth that much but i think i deserve them anyway. i’m gonna talk about some stuff that may seem unrelated or only loosely related to the question but i prommy it’s relevant <3 warning this ended up being like a thousand words somehow idk how that happened but i’m putting it under a cut bc i’m nice like that.

so! something that’s kinda unique/interesting to me about stranger things is how all of their ships are so clearly telegraphed and quickly developed. there’s a sense of... impatience, for lack of a better word. on the surface, it appears to be largely an effect of the cinematic style of the show; there’s very little room for questioning who someone’s gonna end up with or for slowly developing a relationship over time when you only get eight episodes every like. twoish years. AND you have about a dozen main characters AND evil government forces AND monsters from another dimension. it’s a lot to juggle!

stranger things has a lot to accomplish in a pretty short amount of time. the timeline of a single season usually spans no more than a week (excluding flashbacks/end-of-season timeskips), and well... nobody wants the important stuff to happen offscreen! i’ll use the stoncy love triangle as an example: jancy was originally intended to get together at the end of s1 after steve’s death, but since they decided to let steve redeem himself and survive, there was just no time to separate stancy and get jancy together without it seeming wayyy too abrupt. since jancy was always their plan, they didn’t want to leave nancy with steve, but they knew they couldn’t just have that boyfriend swap occur offscreen... which is why s2 Had to have a stancy breakup plot in order for the writers to accomplish their goal of getting jancy together.

the main characters in stranger things tend to maintain homeostasis between seasons, their circumstances and relationships rarely changing any more than the audience might have just assumed they would anyway (like lucas and max dancing together + sharing a kiss at the end of s2 and officially dating by the start of s3). steve and nancy are dating at the end of s1, so they must still be dating at the start of s2, and thus we must break them up DURING s2. joyce and hopper are friends with some deeply buried feelings in s2, so they’re friends with Less Buried feelings that must become apparent during s3. excluding the stancy situation (for reasons which i think are obvious but i will talk more about later), momentum is always forwards. mileven, lumax, and jancy argue, but they come back together, presumably more mature and stronger than before. 

all of this is to say that stranger things has thus far been rather dedicated to their starting ships. there isn’t much misdirection; mike’s crush on el is obvious from the start, nancy and jonathan share charged moments even while she is with steve in the beginning, lucas shows interest in max immediately and shares more significant interactions with her than the other boys from early on in s2, and the deep loyalty and care between joyce and hop is always apparent. steve and robin (initially intended to be together romantically) hold hands quite early in s3 and dustin asks steve about whether he likes her. 

the point? stranger things doesn’t dick around when it comes to love! they handle their ships with remarkable efficiency. in each season, it tends to be pretty obvious from the start who’s going to end up with who, and heading into the show’s fourth season, almost everybody is paired off: mike and el, max and lucas, joyce and hop, nancy and jonathan. which leaves us asking... are all of them going to last until the end?

we’ve only had one true breakup on the show so far, and as i’ve said before, the stancy breakup is an anomaly as it was essentially “righting a wrong,” allowing jonathan and nancy to get together as they were intended to do from the start. the only other romantic relationship to end on the show was between joyce and bob, and well... we all know why that ended, and it started/ended within the confines of a single season. 

stranger things tends to treat each season as an extended film, right? they draw inspiration from classic 80′s films, and each subsequent season after s1 is treated as a sequel (they are Literally referred to as stranger things 2 and stranger things 3). when they introduce tension in a season, they’re inclined to resolve that tension by the season’s end so that people leave satisfied, while also providing a plot hook for the next “sequel” for audiences to theorize about. this hook is always part of the grander plot, not a will-they-won’t-they tease or something else of the sort. remember, they could have broken up steve and nancy in s2 and waited to get jancy together in s3, but they didn’t! they wanted to go ahead and resolve the tension! 

while there are narrative and practical incentives that i’ve covered for this impatience/efficiency/[insert better word i can’t think of here], i also think it kinda reveals something about the writers of the show. to some degree, they genuinely care about and want their ships to be together! we’ve watched them introduce new characters just to kill them off a couple of times now, and i think it’s fair to say that the writers might be a bit too attached to the mains to consider killing any of them off (at least prior to the series finale). maybe... this reluctance to kill their darlings extends to ships.

romance isn’t the primary draw of the show, but an indulgence, something that there may not always be time for but that the writers continue to prioritize as much as they can because they enjoy it, or feel that it is important to the overall product. if we accept this idea, that the inclusion of and focus on so many romantic relationships in stranger things is (to some degree) indicative of the writers’ own desires, then it might inform our speculation regarding endgame ships.

i’m not here to like... really actually assert that i know what’ll be endgame, because i don’t really know jack shit. however, i do think that the writers are pretty invested in all of the current canon st ships (and yes, i am including jopper in that, as their romantic development was explicit in s3). i also think that the writers like catering to fans, leaning into popular jokes (steve “the hair” harrington) and devoting more and more time to the ships fans obsess over (particularly mileven). 

with this all in mind... i really think that most if not all of the current canon ships will be endgame. 

i think that barring any extreme circumstances (i.e. a character Actually dying instead of just fake dying) jopper will be endgame. they’re the only ones that the writers have had the restraint to actually do a slow burn with, and i really can’t see them devoting so much to developing their dynamic just to say it was all for nothing in the end. 

i’m less confident on the others. there are some signs in canon that the remaining couples have some serious problems and may not last, but these issues are often dismissed, played for comedy or brushed over within the text itself, and many of the details within the text contradicting this dismissal are often so small that it’s unclear whether they’re intentional or not. while breaking up mileven might make perfect sense for a fan who reads into subtext and pays attention to unusual acting choices and subtle parallels, it would be a pretty risky move on the surface level. allowing these ships to remain canon for awhile and garner large fanbases only to break them up later would require both a willingness to actively contradict the desires of their audience as well as a certain degree of restraint in their romantic storytelling, which runs counter to the impression i personally have of the st writers (this is, of course, my own personal opinion).

there’s a good chance that at least one of the current canon ships will break up by the end, if only because i think that it would be a little boring if every relationship stayed the same for almost the entirety of the show’s run, and the stranger writers like to keep things new and exciting. perhaps long distance will kill jancy or mileven, or lucas and max will go off again and never come back on, but either way i wouldn’t be surprised if we got a breakup in s4. even with that, though, i think it’s somewhat likely that a current couple may break up in s4 and get back together for the series finale, just for the sake of a little suspense. overall, though, i feel like our current canon ships are going to be more or less the same at the end of the show.

that’s about it. i suppose i didn’t really... answer the question you asked skdndsdkjc i feel like you probably just wanted to know like if i’m a byler endgame truther (which i am not but i could happily be proven wrong). thank you for asking, though! i hope this made at least a little bit of sense.

[chattegeorgiana]

Not meaning to sound rude/offend(I’m truly not) but why post about USA politics instead of Romanian ones? Ngl I know the 45th isn’t the one true problem to it all (though he still fanned the flames) but after living with 4 yrs of T**** damage(lucky for non-USA people you didn’t have to live with that) it’s just good to have him out of the WH. Also it’s not just the president in charge, decisions are also made by the house of Congress, the senate, and surpreme court. President does have power, just not 💯 % or else it be dictatorship.

What is going on with Romania?

I do post about Romanian politics as well. It’s just scarce. The same way that post was scarce.

I don’t post politics all day on Tumblr or social media. I try to stay as much away as possible, because people are too invested into this to see that the picture is waaay bigger than Trump or Joe or any other politician.

The political system is an abomination of a system made to divide people to their core.

The political system has divided people and extremized them to their goddamn core and you guys think this is a joe vs trump issue.

Congrats, you just fell into their trap. It’s what this system is meant to do.

You think non-USA people weren’t affected? Have you heard about NATO? Have you heard about international relationships?

Don’t think that you lived in a vacuum and there weren’t ripple effects of this thing.

US is/was a world superpower. Everything the US does has ripple effects. The same way those other big players also leave ripple effects.

As for him being out of there, of course, I am not even going to say that it’s good or not. You guys should know better. 

What I would say is that careful with the mass media, ya know? Because some of the words he had said, were true. Some related to China, for example.

How do I know? Because little Romania, a country u guys have no idea about, or better said, my little hometown has been under the effect of Chinese MO.

A single thing has stood to me out of all the limited things that I saw about Trump and your guys’ politics: how he manage to raise employment rates again. 

How? By putting people back to work in the very factories the Chinese bought and then closed.

How do I know that? Because that’s the Chinese MO from Romania as well. From my very hometown.

We had factories of corrugated board (3nd best in the whole wide world), factories that gave the 2nd most purest water in the world and whatnot.

These were the very basic factories that sustained the local economy in my little hometown. Know what happened after Chinese business people came and bought those factories?

Everyone was out of job and my county became the 2nd poorest region in the country, because the factories were closed. People unemployed that had to just flee the city if they wanted to survive. Because those business they did with the Chinese were pure corrupt businesses.

My hometown is mostly a ghost town right now, run by local mafia who got rich after doing those businesses.

So you see, in some respects Trump was right. And I know he was, not because he said he was. I don’t trust a word coming from any politician’s mouth. 

I know he was because I’ve seen it happen with my own two eyes in other sides of the world. All you had to do is connect the dots for yourself. 

The media tried to paint him as crazy for spewing some truth.

So before you believe everything the media tells you about him or how you should think about him, try to detach a bit and do your own research.

I’ve worked in the media. My very first job actually. I learned there how the games are done behind closed doors.

Now, you’ll say I’m a Trump supporter or idk what label you will put on me. Because that’s going to be probably the easiest way to explain this.

Well, I’m not. I won’t support anything political in my entire life lol.

Trump said some truths, but he has some issues as well. He’s a goddamn narcissist and that’s what it was his downfall in politics.

Politics nowadays is shrewd. He’s not. He’s full blunt direct force. The perfect ammo for the system to paint him whatever they want to. In that respect he’s stupid and I would’ve expected him to  be smarter given all the shit he pulled in the past.

Like the thing with the banks and taxes that everyone blames him for.

Do I say he did a good or bad thing? Nah. I say he did a smart thing.

He found a way to give people jobs, while in the meantime getting himself rich. He found a loophole, yeah. But it’s not like all those instances with him not paying his taxes were done on his own. Nah. He had an agreement to people in power.

I often wonder... Do people hate him for not paying his taxes or for not having first the idea that he had to make money? 

Because in the end it’s all reduced to money. Because money is power and it’s what makes the world go round.

He found a way to grab power and be outside of the locks of banks.

Don’t you guys have those credits ever since you’re in school? That’s literally chains on your future.

You spend most of your lives trying to pay back the banks who lock you in an eco system that generates money to them, while keeping you in chains.

He just found a way to be out of those chains. Out of that wretched system.

Because you see, that’s the issue... It’s a system issue, not a Trump issue.

I don’t have the moral authority to say if what he did is right or wrong. After all, he did create thousands of jobs for people as well while doing what he did.

But are you guys under the impression that Trump might be the only one who did that? Lol, tell me you’re not that naive.

Those kind of people have armies of accountants around them to make the papers look good.

It just so happened that Trump probably disturbed someone. 

Because at those levels there’s a looot of power play. I mean, it’s not like in the past they didn’t all hang out together.

Come on, tell me you’re not that naive. It’s a move done by politicians ever since they goddamn invented that wretched system.

And since you asked by Romanian politics, what I’ve just written until now about Trump, is the same thing that happens in Romania.

It’s a global phenomena. It happens in every country. Here it’s the same, lol.

They all used to hang out together, and then whenever the elections come they start being at each other’s throats, posing as if they’re the biggest enemies.

But then you see clandestine pictures of them dining together at a restaurant. Or not even that. Just them hanging together.

You know, when the media isn’t there to be telling the story they want to tell to the audience.

Because if you think that the media isn’t politically subservient, you’re OH SO wrong.

Told you my first job was in the media.

You know what someone I worked with told me about some discussions they used to have in the USA on some sort of workshops or whatever u called them back in the day?

That US media hasn’t been free media since the 70′s. And that Romanian press was still free at that time (this was a discussion back in the 90′s).

But, there will come a time when the press won’t be free in Romania either. That they will write under political command.

Well, guess what happens nowadays? Exactly what that person said. It started somewhere back in 2008-2010.

In the pandemic for example, Romanian government gave the media 70$ billion in funds.

Which makes me wonder, why would the media need something like that, if it’s not an essential domain, like we oh so started labeling?

But hey, they did it in the pandemic so they are now free of any suspicions because if they did it now, all they wanted to do is “help”, right?

To write good about the political party in charge, while admonishing the others.

Despite people knowing all too well how the games are played.

So at the end of the day, all I’m saying is before putting your trust into politicians, look around you.

Now that it’s Biden, you say it’s a senate whatnot problem. Back when it was Trump, everyone blamed just him, as if he was the only one in charge.

Which is it after all? Is it a single person problem or a problem of senate/president/everyone else?

See what I mean?

Anyway... I’ll stop here. I am sure this thing won’t be understood in its true nature so I won’t bother anymore.

All I know is at the end of the day I have my conscience clean, no matter what.

So yeah, hope that answered your question. Basically to sum it up in Romania it’s the same shit as it is in other countries, only adapted locally, ofc.

But it’s still there to divide people, at the end of the day, so that’s that.

[sparklingpax]

Tales From Iacon - Part 2: Intentions

A/N: 

-Part one can be found here and I also have a wattpad where I’m posting updates as well as other stories! (user is @/kunixjiro)

-Idk if this was an appropriate title for this part but the idea was that they both had their own intentions and well....you can see how it turned out.

-Sorry if this is badly written (and for any typos, mistakes, weird phrasings, etc)

-Also sorry that this is long af O//O’’

-This part isn’t so fluffy ^^’’ But dw I promise I’ll resolve everything in time....anyway, hopefully nothing got too ooc or anything! Enjoy!! <3

///

It was no secret that Megatronus was a gladiator.

He was not ashamed or afraid to admit his purpose—to kill both beast and bot alike.

For the entertainment of the crowds, and in accordance with Cybertron’s corrupt caste system. 

            Such a life was a choice he’d made long ago, when he rose up from the mines and cast away the life of a meaningless energon miner. With it, he’d cast away a name given to him—a name which held no meaning anyway.

             D-16 was no more—he was Megatronus now.

///

            The wild cheering of the crowds invigorated Megatronus, fueling his drive to utterly mutilate the monster hulking before him. All he could think of was the desire to fight stronger and harder than ever before—to show off his power so he could bask in the glory of the hundreds all around calling his name.

             “Megatronus! Megatronus! Megatronus!”

               The deafening roar of the onlookers filled his audio receptors, causing Megatronus to grin wildly, and the injured monster to bellow in terror. It stumbled forward hastily, only for Megatronus to dodge and deal another blow with his sword. Much to the delight of the crowd, the beast cried out in pain and reared up to attack Megatronus again.

             There was no fear as Megatronus gazed into the black eyes of the beast, lit only with primal rage. They bored into him for only a moment before it shook its head and charged.

             Call my name! Call it louder—shout it to the skies, Cybertronians!  

             He stood in battle stance, breathing hard but not yet tired. Bright lights all around blazed down on his plating, making the grey and burgundy glow as silver and red. His optics were alight with a wild look, as if he knew the battle was over and victory was in his very grasp.

             Megatronus tossed away his shield, gripping the hilt of his sword tighter. He released a savage cry and charged right at the monster. Screams of excitements and fear sounded from every angle as he neared the gaping jaws of his opponent.

             The gladiator swung the sword and neatly sliced off half of the grey tongue that greedily reached out at him. The monster instantly recoiled, writhing in pain. Blue blood sprayed everywhere. The warm, sticky liquid showered Megatronus as he slid the weapon into its holder at his hip.

             He paid no mind to it, for he had known the tongue would bleed the most.

             Megatronus took a running leap off the dirt and landed on the back of the beast. With his own servos, he grabbed its snout and yanked it towards him, bending its neck backwards to injure it further. It tried to swing him off, but Megatronus stabbed his sword into its body. The crowd collectively shrieked with anticipation upon seeing the legs of the monster buckle beneath him.  

             Before it could scream in pain again, he vaulted off its body to the side, twisting its neck with a fatal, sickening crack. There was a brief, abrupt silence while the monster moaned more quietly, attempting to move. It crumpled inward with a low huff.

               A pool of energon gushed out from its wounds, soiling the ground around it as Megatronus backed away to watch it die. He grinned with pure delight—breathing heavily, limbs quivering with exhaustion—at his work. Only seconds later, the beast went totally limp.

               It was done.

             The volume of the crowd was loud enough to sound as if the whole of Cybertron had packed into the small stadium.

              Megatronus was victorious again.

             He felt pride and joy rush through him as he raised his sword and cried out to the masses before him.

              “I AM MEGATRONUS, KING OF THE PITS OF KAON!!!”

             “Megatronus! Megatronus! Megatronus! Megatronus! ”

             “I AM LIVING PROOF THAT ONE DECIDES HIS OWN DESTINY!!”

               Hundreds packed together in the seats raised their servos and shouted as loud as they could, amazed by the skill of the gladiator before them, and filled with inspiration. Megatronus felt something warm in his spark, for he knew Orion was one of the many voices.

               There was no disputing it now, D-16 was truly no more.

///

             Outside the arena’s seating, there was a dimly lit, blue corridor. Various clumps of bots milled around there. Some were making their way out from the seats, conversating excitedly about the fighting, or were making their way back in. Others stayed outside for whatever reason they had. A quiet murmuring filled the space, contrasting greatly from the deafening roar of the arena.

             Orion Pax had his back up against the wall, breathing hard. He tried to steady his breath, attempting to erase the images of the brutal murdering of that beast from his mind.

             He had never seen anything so violent in his whole life.

             Orion couldn’t bear it a second longer, hearing the crowd cheer hungrily for the monster to suffer more, and chanting all the louder for its death. All of it had felt so…wrong. For a second, he had wondered if everyone in there had lost their senses. Surely a society of civilized people wouldn’t bee chanting for the death of a living, breathing creature? Or will it to be tortured?

             And yet…they were.

             He had slipped out to regain himself a little, and decided he’d return to his place when the act was finished. At least, if Orion didn’t watch some of the real fight, he’d see the aftermath. After all, Megatronus had invited Orion as a…somewhat esteemed guest. It was only fair that Orion, too, should raise his voice to cheer his friend on.

              I’m here for Megatronus.

             I’m here because he invited me.

             I’m…here to…support him….

             His stomach turned upon thoughts of what he was doing to the creature at the moment. He heard a loud roar of pain and the noise of the crowd increased greatly. Orion shook his head and slid down to a sitting position.

              I’ll…I’ll wait here until it sounds like it’s over…or else….I just might purge…

///

             “So then, Soundwave,” Megatronus shook hands with the quiet mech and nodded. “I’ll be off. I’m meeting someone now. We can speak again tomorrow, if you like.”

             Soundwave nodded, then turned and left. Megatronus watched him go, interest dancing vaguely in his gaze.  

              What an interesting bot, being so quiet and yet saying so much.

              The gladiator was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion, and it seemed the adrenaline that had pushed him through the fight was finally fading. With a small grunt, Megatronus stumbled and fell against the corridor’s wall for support. To Megatronus’ frustration, his legs were tremoring a little. He let out a sigh, straightening again after a moment with a small wince.  

             I suppose I…expended a bit too much of my energy today…

             He still felt pride and joy in his victory.

             Even still, all my efforts were worth it. I stand alive once more.

             “Good evening, Megatronus!”

             Orion’s voice reached Megatronus before he sighted his friend at the other end of the corridor. Orion picked up pace and jogged down the hall to meet him.

             Megatronus immediately felt his exhaustion dissipate.

             Orion had seen the fight!

             He was eager to know what Orion had thought of it all. He knew it Orion’s first time seeing something as graphic and epic as this.

             But more than that, Megatronus was eager to know what Orion thought of him. Battle brought out his truest form, and that form was Megatronus’ greatest pride. Having somewhat of an ego, Megatronus knew that deep down, all he needed to keep going was some sort of praise.  

             After all, who wouldn’t? Validation is a beautiful thing, especially in one’s own art. 

             “Orion, it brought me much joy to know you could make it tonight!” He and Orion shook servos and greeted one another, then started slowly back up the hall so they could leave the building. Megatronus continued, “How unfortunate you could not have seen me last week, when I, with great fervor, slayed—”

             He paused, sensing Orion tense up next to him and look away.

             Odd.  

             “Never mind. Anyway, you are usually too busy with your studies or your work. How is it that you came tonight?” Orion sighed.

             “My apologies. I hope to be a master archivist one day, and full commitment to my studies is essential for me to reach that goal.” He looked up at the sky speckled with thousands of stars and smiled. Shifting his gaze to Megatronus, who was listening intently, he nodded. “I did get time off tonight, though. I have Alpha Trion to thank for that.”

             Megatronus patted him on the back.

             They continued through the quiet streets of Kaon—well, the backstreets, to be specific. Megatronus knew how ugly the main streets could get with all the crazy bots running around at night. He wanted no part in it tonight as long as Orion was with him.

             And Orion is no fighter.

             “Megatronus, uhm…” Orion’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts. He looked a little nervous. He fiddled with his fingers for a moment before taking a deep breath. “I…I hope you can be patient with me.”

             “What?”

             “You might feel offended.” Orion tried elaborating. Megatronus, however, was not following. “I am only asking that if you are mad, that you don’t take it out on someone else…or that you can understand what my reasoning was.”

             Offended? It made little sense. Yet his friend remained tense, and would not meet his gaze. Megatronus immediately felt guilty. Have I said something wrong?

             “Orion, I do not understand what it is you refer to!” He picked up his pace, trying to think of changing the subject. He so desperately wanted to know about what Orion had thought of his battle with the monster!  

             “About the fight tonight…” Orion’s gaze dropped to the ground and he halted. Megatronus, who had walked a few paces ahead, stopped and turned. Oh, he read my mind. How funny; I was just about to ask!

              “Listen, Orion, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not—”

              “I had to leave halfway through the fight. I…” He slowly lifted his gaze to meet his friend’s. As he’d suspected, the beginnings of frustration had already begun to spark into it. He mustered all his confidence to finish. “I waited in the hall because I couldn’t take anymore of the violence…or the bloodthirsty crowd. It…did not feel right at all.”

              An uncomfortable silence weighed on the pair.

              At last, Megatronus turned away and sighed quietly, breaking the silence. Orion felt guilt and embarrassment to the depths of his spark. He opened his mouth to say more, then thought it better not to. He figured Megatronus would have something to say to him.

             “So…that’s it?” Disappointment was fully evident in his voice, causing Orion’s spark to twist more. Megatronus turned back to his friend and moved closer. His hands were folded behind his back. Orion swallowed.

             My intentions were to be honest, but I fear I have taken an imprudent course of action…

             Orion decided not to voice the thought. Instead, he quietly responded, “Yes.”

             “I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that I’m…very hurt, Orion.” Megatronus kept his voice level as he gazed into the archivist’s eyes, yet Orion could still hear dejection in its tone.

             He realized he had to fix this.  

             But how? What do I say? Orion Pax, you foolish child!! He scorned himself internally.

             “I am sorry, Megatronus. I understand that words will do no good, but for the moments I was there, your courage in the face of the beast was admirable.” Megatronus looked away. Indignance and annoyance welled up inside him.

              He’s probably making it up.

             “And that is the honest truth.”

             Orion looked earnest.

             He also looked and sounded guilty.

              Is it? Or are you telling me what I want to hear? Why did you come if you knew you couldn’t stand violence and a crowd’s wildness? Orion, you anger me…or rather…

             Megatronus then remembered his friend’s quiet plea for peace and patience beforehand. To lash out at him would wound their friendship forever, and give Orion the wrong impression of Megatronus. All that aside, Megatronus realized he…felt no anger towards his friend. The heated emotions faded, quickly replaced by pangs of rejection.

             …such is my fate, being a lower-caste bot raised in blood, darkness and cold steel. Of course Orion does not find it beautiful, and I should not have forced him to witness such things.

             It seemed they would have to allow time to do its work.

             Megatronus began to walk away, saying nothing more. Orion called after him, but received no reply. His friend disappeared into the shadows of the night, leaving Orion feeling guilty and ashamed.

              I won the battle, but I now feel…defeat.

              Megatronus felt exhaustion creep back into his limbs.

///

             On his way out of the city, Orion paid no attention to the tranquil, moonlit nature around him. He was instead lost in thought.

             Had I said nothing, I’d have lied.

             He shook his head.

             I can’t lie. I won’t lie. I know it would have come out eventually, and he would still be hurt. 

             A pang of sadness twisted his spark again. 

             Why couldn’t I bear it even for his sake? It is because I do not understand it that I fear it, I know. But...it is his joy...his art....and I was not there for him.

             As he reached a train station, Orion still did not have any real thoughts in mind as he punched in the location for his ticket.

             When the train arrived, Orion boarded and sat by the window.

             I realize now that my intentions were faulted. It would have been better to stay quiet, becuase then I would not have hurt him.

             He closed his eyes.

             Time will have to heal this wound.