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#that barbarian can count
jawbonejoe · 5 months ago
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I miss playing Box so much bc he’s a great outlet for not only my boiling rage but also my scheming ass tendencies. Currently working on an insurance scheme that hinges on how many times he’s died bc I didn’t know how to play the game
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elecman108 · 2 months ago
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I’m going to try to do Drawtober this year, but unlike every other year I’ve attempted I’m not doing any prompts. My theme is just going to be “My OCs in Funny Costumes”, be it cosplay, Halloween costumes, or just alternate outfits.
For the first day, here’s Bunny Boy Tempest! He’s a little embarassed, but he knows he looks good. And shading this time too! I’m gonna try to shade most of the drawings lmao.
At the end of the month I’ll try to post a calendar with every drawing slotted into their specific day, and if I miss a day? That just means I can doodle something spooky in that day instead, lmao. No obligation to do all 31 days of October, but I will aim for greater than 15 because that is my highest score with Inktober, Drawtober, and OCtober as of the past couple years.
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tomurasprincess · a year ago
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Kinktober Day 11: ABO (Conflagration)
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Day 11: A/B/O Title: Conflagration Pairing: Alpha Barbarian Bakugou x Omega F!Reader  Word Count: 3k Warnings: Fantasy AU. Dubcon, a/b/o dynamics, knotting, public sex, exhibitionism, biting/marking, yandere Note: Hope you guys enjoy, sorry it’s a bit late! I used all my brain power for the night to finish this.
Kinktober Masterlist
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When you saw the fires begin at the far edge of the village, you already knew that the wolf clan of Bakugou Katsuki had come to pillage your home.
The clan was vicious, almost rabid. They would loot whatever valuables they could find along with basic food and other supplies and burn whatever they didn’t need. As for the people, most would be slaughtered where they stood. But every so often, a young man or woman would be taken by the clan, always omegas. There were many theories of what would happen to them. Some said that they would be eaten, and others said they would become mates.
What the truth was, nobody truly knew, because the ones taken were never seen again.
And now here the wolf clan is, practically at your doorstep. There was no warning given, and nobody had prepared for an attack. You glance around to see only chaos everywhere you look. People grabbing whatever they can and running away from the devastation.
But if the tales of the clan are true, then running will do no good. They work efficiently, surrounding a village from all sides and killing whoever tries to leave. The people may well be running into a trap. But it’s still better than doing nothing.
Unfortunately, your family’s home is towards the end of the village where the fires are already burning, forcing you to go the exact way that you don’t want. But you have no choice. You would rather die than escape without your family. And so you make your way quickly towards your home, darting into small alleys and back streets as much as you can just in case the wolves have already pressed this far into the village.
It is a tense journey, and you find yourself jumping at every shadow as your heart threatens to beat out of your chest. Wondering if this is the moment when your luck finally runs out and you find a wolf waiting to rip your heart from your chest. But you encounter no resistance, and finally you see your house standing before you. A sense of elation runs through you at it being untouched, the fires having not reached it yet.
But that elation quickly turns to terror when you see a wolf appear into your field of view, looking at you with wild eyes that are full of bloodlust. He is in a warrior form, a grotesque mixture of wolf and human that they use to raid villages, as it’s a form that they can both fight and gather supplies in.
You close your eyes and brace for the pain of being torn to shreds, only to hear a sharp “oi!” and a snarled command that you don’t recognize. Your eyes fly open to see the wolf in warrior form run further into town, and a wolf in human form standing in his place. The fact that he is still in human form amidst so much death and fear speaks to how powerful he must be, as wolves have the tendency to lose their focus and turn into wolves when there is so much blood in the air.
The man is shirtless, wearing nothing but some necklaces with what looks to be bones dangling from it. He has leather breeches and boots on, and his bare arms are covered in tribal tattoos. His blond hair is messy and wild looking, and his red eyes are staring at you with such deep intensity that you feel a chill creep up your spine. 
Every muscle in your body is telling you to run, but doing so will be a death sentence. Wolves love to chase down their prey, to hunt and root them out from whatever hiding place they find. And your instincts tell you that this may well be Bakugou Katsuki himself, his aura being almost unbearably strong.
He begins to saunter towards you, effortlessly confident and every bit the predator approaching terrified prey. You stay stock still, trying to control your breathing. Despite his overwhelming presence, you feel no desire to harm you. He comes to stand dangerously close to you, towering over your small shivering form. He smells like blood and smoke, and you’re ashamed to admit that it appeals to your nature as an omega.
“What’s your name, little lamb?” He growls out the sentence as he traces a finger down your face. 
You whisper it to him, proud of the fact that your voice doesn’t break. “And that house over there,” he points to your humble family home nearby. “That’s yours?”
You give a simple wordless nod as his eyes roam up and down your body like he’s assessing you, and you wonder what he’s thinking. Is he going to kill you? Let you go?
What you don’t expect is him wrapping his arms around you, pulling you tightly against him as he buries his nose into your neck. He takes a deep whiff of your scent right at the pulse point where your pheromone gland is, and something in his demeanor instantly changes.
He drags you into the middle of the main street, forcing you down on hands and knees as he ruts against the curve of your ass. You let out a startled cry as his own pheromones overwhelm you, causing you to instantly flood your undergarments with slick. It isn’t time for your heat, you think nervously, but if he keeps this up, you might be thrown into an early one. 
And then you’ll be in even deeper danger than you are now.
“Mate,” he snarls ferally into your ear as he continues to hump against your backside, wrapping a hand into your hair as he forces your back to arch. He nips at your neck, not breaking the skin but biting hard enough that you can feel it. You let out a soft moan as he licks against the gland where the mating bond would go, feeling desire even through the fear that he’ll bite down and claim you as his forever.
“Bakugou, what the hell are you doing, man?” You’re interrupted suddenly by someone in human form, wearing similar clothing as the man holding you down in a vice grip. He has bright red hair spiked up, and you can see every defined muscle as he walks towards you.
Your worst fears are confirmed at the name. You really are being held by Bakugou Katsuki, alpha leader of the most dangerous wolf clan in the land.
Bakugou’s grip turns even tighter, and you whimper a bit at the pressure, knowing that he’s most likely leaving bruises. At your pained noise, however, he loosens his grip a bit and looks up to glare at his fellow wolf. “Kirishima, get the fuck away.” You’re surprised he’s even able to talk with how much his instincts seem to be taking over, although he punctuates his words with a pause in between. “Mate. My mate.”
You can’t decide if you want Kirishima to help you, or not to help you. Your own instincts are running wild at the thought of being mated to such an alpha, while your rational mind is screaming that you don’t want this. As you’re briefly considering begging Kirishima for help, the decision is taken from you. 
“Man, that’s awesome,” Kirishima’s eyes turn to instant understanding, and a big smile crosses his face. “But couldn’t you wait until -”
Bakugou snaps his jaws and lets out an incoherent snarl at the man, and Kirishima holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “Alright then,” he says cheerfully, as if Bakugou had done nothing, “try to go easy on her, at least. She’s probably scared.” 
“One thing before you go,” Bakugou manages to say, even though all he wants to do is for Kirishima to leave. “Take care of things for me, will you?” There is an edge to his voice, a hidden meaning behind the words that you just can’t seem to grasp. But Kirishima seems to understand instantly, a big toothy grin overtaking his face. 
“Gotcha, Bakugou. Will do.” And with that, the man turns and walks further into your village. You had been so preoccupied with Bakugou and Kirishima that you didn’t notice the fact that even more of your village is on fire.
There’s a sharp nip at your neck, and you startle a bit. “Pay attention to me, little lamb.” You instantly glance behind you to meet his gaze, and your pussy clenches as more slick drips out of you at what you see.
Bakugou’s pupils are full blown and focused entirely on you, more of the wolf than the human reflected in them. Sweat pours down his face as he pants heavily, the strain of keeping himself under control almost too much to bear. You realize something very quickly.
He’s going into a rut. 
That knowledge causes your pussy to throb, hormones screaming at you to be claimed by an alpha. But no, not even just that. To be claimed by your alpha. You let out a deep whine from the back of your throat as your heat tears through your body like the fires raging in your village. 
“I can smell you, little lamb,” he chuckles as he nuzzles your shoulder blades. “You’re going into heat.” Your dress is ripped off of you in one smooth movement and thrown away from your body, and your undergarments are quick to follow. “You can’t resist such a powerful alpha, can you, omega?”
You whine again as you find your hips pushing back against him, wordlessly asking him for more. Sweat is pouring from your body and your skin feels too tight. Your pussy is gushing slick, and with no panties to contain it, it simply drips to the ground.  You glance back to see that the front of Bakugou’s breeches are glistening with it, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
“I asked you a question,” his voice takes on a deep, almost threatening tone. “You need to answer your mate.”
“Please,” you simply say, unable to tell if you’re asking him to stop or asking him to never stop. But he takes this as affirmation as he rips his own pants off, not even wasting time to unbuckle them. He’s wearing no underwear underneath, and his cock is rock hard and standing staight up. It’s so thick that you wonder if it will even fit inside of you, and the thought of even trying causes your pussy to clench around nothing out of sheer lust.
“Can’t wait anymore,” he growls in a low, deep voice. He’s beginning to lose control, the scent of an unbred omega filling the air and dripping slick onto him too much for him to withstand. He trails his cock up your slit, lubing up his cockhead before he sheathes himself inside of you in one sharp thrust.
You let out a wail as your inner walls stretch and clamp down around his thickness, more wetness gushing out to aid him. The sting of it is sharp and hot, but you can’t help wanting more. Wanting him to fuck you like the feral animal he truly is.
As if he can read your mind, he begins to thrust, giving you little time to adjust before he’s slamming into your tight heat. His balls hit your clit, and the force of his thrusts causes your hands and knees to dig into the harsh ground below you. You can smell your own blood as one of the rocks cuts into your open palm, and it only makes the wolf buried deep inside of you go even wilder.
He grips your hips with blunt nails, digging in for leverage as he forces you back repeatedly onto him. Your breasts bounce as you dig your nails harder into the dirt in an attempt to ground yourself, but it’s no use. Your head is spinning from all the stimulation, and you feel as if you’d float away if only Bakugou wasn’t holding onto you.
“Fuck, your pussy feels so good, such a good omega,” he praises you in between harsh growls and pants. “My good little omega, my mate.”
You whine as you push yourself back to meet his thrusts, one hand lifting up to reach between your body to find your clit. He stops his movements long enough to slap your hand away as he snarls at you. “That is my job, you hear me?”
You give a quick nod, only for your eyes to roll back into your head as his own hand grips your pussy. “Fuckin’ choking my cock with this pussy, aren’t you? God you’re so tight.” Two fingers slip between your folds to grind hard around your aching bead, and you let out a squeal as an unexpected orgasm tears through you. Your pussy pulses around him, and Bakugou hisses out a curse under his breath that you can’t understand. 
Your body begins to go limp, no longer being able to keep up with his savage thrusts. “No resting yet, my mate,” he wraps an arm around your front, pulling you up and pressing your back into his chest. He nuzzles your neck, licking the sweat drenched skin until he comes to your scent gland.
He bares his fangs and sinks his teeth deeply into you, and you scream loud enough that you’re sure the entire village can hear you as he claims you as his mate permanently. His fangs bury into your flesh as deep as they can go, and you can feel blood trickling down your front. His entire demeanor changes as he marks your mating bond, more of the savage barbarian peeking out. 
He forces you up into his lap, not even removing his teeth from your neck as he begins to pound into your soaked pussy. You whimper and whine with every thrust as he bottoms out inside of you with every movement, hitting your cervix in such a way that even the pain feels wonderful.  “Mate, please, please please,” you find yourself chanting, “please don’t stop, oh fuck.”
His pace is becoming erratic, and you’re not sure why until you feel pressure at the entrance of your pussy. His knot is beginning to swell. Your whole body sings in anticipation of feeling that knot inside, tying the two of you together. 
He begins to hump into you sharply, forcing a wail from your throat as you hear the soft pop as his knot is pushed through the tight muscles at your entrance. Short, shallow thrusts of his cock inside of you has the knot traveling up your soaked pussy, pressing hard against your inner walls and causing you to tremble and pant. His knot tugs against you, and tears run down your face from the sheer pleasure of being so full.
It gets lodged halfway up your passage, the thickest part of the knot grinding against a sensitive spot inside of you and wrenching a scream from your throat. Your lower stomach begins to tighten, toes curling as you shake from the stimulation. Your pussy won’t stop fluttering around him, intense pressure building up inside of you as you near another orgasm.  There are no longer any words from Bakugou, merely snarls and growls as he continues to rut into your pussy like a man possessed. His fingers grind down around your swollen bead, causing you to tumble over the edge.
He groans and uses your distraction to grip your hips and force his knot all the way to your cervix in one movement. You’re still cumming, and you can’t tell if his cock fully expanding inside of you throws you into another orgasm or simply prolongs it.
You’ve reached the end of your endurance, and you lay your head to rest on the ground, too tired to do anything else but lay limp and let him do what he wishes to you. Finally his knot swells to full size, and with one deep groan, his cock spasms inside of you as he fills you up with his cum. You can feel the heat spreading through your insides, the knot preventing a single drop from being wasted.
He removes his teeth from your neck, eliciting a small gasp, not of pain but of pleasure. You’re covered in his scent, marked by his teeth, and filled with his knot and cum. 
And you’ve never felt better, more alive than you do at this very moment.
He pulls you up enough to fit you onto his lap, pulling your back tightly against his front and placing small open mouthed kisses around the column of your neck. “My good little mate,” he murmurs into your skin, and you shiver at the praise. He holds you there for a while, caressing over your body and whispering sweet nothings into your ear until his knot swells and he can remove it.
He slides it gently out of your ravaged pussy, and your sadness over being so empty must show on your face. “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you up again soon enough. Things have already been taken care of, so I just need to get you out of here now”
He sets you gently down as he removes the fur lined cape he had on before, wrapping it around your naked body to cover you from the eyes of the rest of his pack before lifting you back into his arms. He walks slowly through the devastation of your village, and finally the horror settles back in.
Your family’s home is completely engulfed in flames, roof caving in as you stare. You don’t even know when the house caught fire, or who caught it on fire, as you were too busy - 
Your eyes squeeze shut, mind reeling from what you truly were busy doing as your family lay dying in the house barely down the street.
You try to leap from his arms, to run in and save them even though you know there is no hope. But your mate holds you firmly in his grip. “Shh, don’t be sad, you don’t need that family of yours,” he leans in to gently bump his head against yours. 
“After all, I’m your family now, my little mate.”
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✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧
Kinktober: @thewheezingwyvern​, @vixen-scribbles​, @katsukisprincess​, @hisoknen​, @trafalgar-temptress​, @leeswritingworld​, @bakugotrashpanda​, @kittycatkrissa​, @reinawritesbnha​, @yanderart​, @dabilove27​, @fae-father​, @anxietyplusultra​, @flutterfalla​, @angmarwitch​, @nereida19​, @babayaga67​, @fromsunnywithlove​, @dabis-kitten​, @bakugos-cumsock​, @yumeneji​, @the-grimm-writer​, @iwaizumi-chan​, @slashersheart​, @cissiewrites​, @bunnyywritings​, @bakarinnie​, @angie-1306​, @emplosion22​​, @lalalemon101​​, @videogameboiwhowins​​, @armoredashley​​, @f4nficbaby​​, @tenkoshimmy​​, @baroque-baby​​, @bbyspiiice​​,  @thirstyforthem2dmen​​
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littlefreya · 8 months ago
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Vanilla Milkshake
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Summer: Henry and a long time friend hangout at their usual spot when things turn chaotic because of an innocent misunderstanding...
Prompted by:  
 Oooh Freyaaaa I just *need* some scene featuring Henry and ofc drinking milkshake. 
Pairing: Henry Cavill x Unamed OFC (no description of ethnicity or body type).
Word count: 1.7K
Warnings: RPF, major fluff, friends to lovers, sexual innuendo, mild seduction, sex talk, an unwanted boner, Henry being a boomer, Henry having a meltdown. 
*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own.*
A/N: So, first thing first, thanks @agniavateira for quickly beta’ing my work! And of course thanks @the-soot-sprite for bouncing ideas with me and being an emotional support. Decided to go with friends for lovers because I live for that stuff. Also, I am aware that “Milkshake” can be interpreted in several ways but for the sake of the story I went with that particular reference. Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics
Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed.  🖤
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Title: Vanilla Milkshake
“I swear, this diner looks like Barbie had an orgasm all over the place.” A whimsical grin sliced between Henry’s marble cheeks. Eyeing the pastel-esque surroundings, he huffed scornfully and adjusted the cap over his nest of unruly curls. 
“Remind me again why we always meet here, young lady?”
Staring at the beastly man who barely managed to squeeze into the plastic-pink faux leather booth, she couldn’t help but chuckle. Henry carried himself with something that was both eloquent yet unmistakably feral, reminding her of a burly forest creature. Sturdy tree trunks stood for limbs, torso, and shoulders—the widths of icy mountains and a blanket of thick fur coated the entirety of his body, deeming him a dangerous bear. 
No wonder he preferred himself clean-shaven. The sharpened edge of a razor kept him a cut away from becoming ‘Henry the Barbarian’. 
Seeing him surrounded by pastel and sparkly fairy dust brought far more joy than she could ever imagine. The utter look of contempt gleamed on the surface of his shifty eyes. 
Oh, by God, how much he hated glitter!
“And what would you know about Barbie’s orgasms?” she teased with a crooked eyebrow and a comical suspicious glare. 
Readjusting his cap over the messy mane of chocolate curls, Henry offered a terrible wink and shrugged, “a gentleman never tells.”
Her fingers rapped on her thigh while she contemplated whether to allow this naughty joke slide, but then the urge to provoke him was far too great. After briefly chewing on the inside of her cheek, she broke into a wicked grin.
“Is that… like a role play you have with the missus? She’s Barbie, and you’re G.I.Joe? Because I kinda don’t want to hear about it, but then I kinda do.”
Henry’s smile gradually faded along with the playful glee in his eyes, his melancholic gaze dropping to the sparkly table. He slumped into a heavy sigh, “If by missus, you mean ‘Miss Hand’, then no… not really.”
Dumbfounded, she frowned at Henry with confusion when then it struck her; a sense of incredible embarrassment drained the blood from her head to her gut.
“Oh…”
“Yep.” Henry blurted and grabbed the menu, pretending to be incredibly interested in the kids’ meal options. 
Just in time to rescue them from a prolonged awkward silence, the waitress arrived with their order, serving Henry a hot cup of double espresso while she received a tall glass of a luscious vanilla milkshake. 
“Enjoy your drinks, guys!” the waitress smiled sweetly and kept her eyes glued to Henry as she walked away. But the gloss of the waitress’ flirtatious excitement was lost on him; drenched with greed, Henry’s blue sapphires were fixated on the generous scoops of ice cream and the dark chocolate swirls that decorated his companion’s dessert. 
“Henry, my eyes are up here!” she provoked and grabbed the straw between two fingers while throwing an amused glance at his simple cup of coffee. Henry followed her gaze and scoffed before raising the cup to his mouth and blowing to cool his drink.
The way his lips pursed together and his finger stroked the ceramic surface did not escape her observation. A sudden tingle swam down the length of her spine once it resonated in her mind that kind, charming, and beastly Henry was now single. Here they were, long time buddies, but now sitting together felt less comfortable than before. Her limbs felt like pins and needles while staring directly at his eyes was as risky as staring at the sun.  
“Cheers,” Henry mumbled and took a sip from his cup. 
Almost jolting in her seat, she stiffened and then grabbed her straw.
“Cheers.”
Giggles came from the other side of the diner. Among the retro gumball machines and rounded plastic bar stools, the waitress and a colleague leaned against the counter and stared at Henry, who turned his head for a brief moment and tipped his head.
Their giggles turned even louder.
She frowned. 
“So, have you been single for a while?” she heard herself asking with a rather urgent tone. Right away, a look of contrition crept on her face as she regretted her verbal onslaught and lack of sensitivity. 
Henry directed his gaze back to her and watched as she slowly sipped from the milkshake and then suckled the cream off her mouth. 
Absentmindedly, he licked his lips. “Since May. How about you, weren’t you with…?”
“No, ended, dodged a bullet.” she spat and pumped the straw up and down the thick beverage. “My milkshake brings all the boys… except it doesn't.” she sighed.
Henry frowned and shook his head with confusion. “What? You never told me you make your own milkshake. How come I never had some?” 
Her face abruptly froze, her eyes rounded with surprise before she snorted so loudly the waitresses stopped their whispering.
“Umm… Hen?” she called out, trying to hold herself from bursting into chuckles as her friend accidentally asked for a very sexual favour, “you honestly don’t know what ‘milkshake’ is slang for...?”
“Uh…”
“Omg, you’re such a boomer.” 
“No, I was born in ‘83! I’m a millennial. But please, indulge me.” he begged and crossed his arms together.
Clearing her throat loudly, she did her best to fight the wicked grin that stretched on her already painful cheeks and wrapped her fist around the straw. “So you know... how… certain male bodily fluids are sometimes white and creamy...? And when you perform a certain motion it’s like you’re shaking it…?”
Henry blinked and became silent. An unbidden rush of blood pooled at his groin as he watched her thumb graze over the tip of the straw and her fist pumping it into the smooth liquid in a slow, gentle motion. Wickedness glazed her eyes, but he tried to dismiss it as nothing but their usual playful banter; yet his adam’s apple bobbed up and down while his shoulder tensed at the oddly arousing sight of her performing a sinful act on a milkshake. 
There was an unmistakable stir in his cock and for once, he was thankful for narrow spaces as it hid his predicament.
Leaning forward, she opened her mouth and swirled her tongue around the straw. She went deliberately slow, making him watch while she playfully licked and suckled the tip until finally wrapping her lips around it and taking a generous sip.
Henry gawked utterly smitten, unaware that his jaw was nearly at the floor.
And to make things worse, she moaned—not too loud—but definitely enough to make his shaft harden more.
She wasn’t sure what stirred this whimsical boost of confidence, only that seeing the large, handsome man pale at her provocations made her feel like the most powerful woman on earth. She also gathered she’d regret it forever and a day once they’ll part ways, but it was too late for that now.
Gingerly she pulled back, though not before allowing a single drop of cream to trickle down the corner of her lips.
“Oops,” she smirked casually, wiping the cream with her fingertip and sucking it clean. 
“Please stop…” 
It was then when she noticed that Henry’s playful mien was all but gone. Far from amused, he glowered with a clenched jaw. “If you’re going to keep doing that, I’ll have to leave,” he stated matter-of-factly. 
A rush of panic made her freeze in her spot, the same needles that pricked her skin were now setting jolts of electric bursts. “I’m so sorry, I crossed the line,” she said and covered her mouth with shame, “did I offend you? Do you want me to leave?”
“What? No, no, not at all.” Henry’s voice softened right away, and he reached a hand in the air, as if trying to stop her from leaving. The last thing he wanted now is for her to think he is angry with her. If anything, he wished they could spend more time together, not because of his obvious arousal, but because for the first time in a long while, he was having fun.
Still, she looked at him so utterly distraught.  
“Then…?” 
Henry scanned the diner as if trying to make sure no one was staring or taking any photo and then shifted in his seat uncomfortably. His eyes altered between his spread thighs and her several times, trying to signal toward his… trouble.
“Oh...” she gaped. 
An odd sense of pride began to permeate her chest, battling over the burning embarrassment that flamed up her neck and cheeks. At this point, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to feel, only that it was definitely the most awkward hangout they had to date. 
Problem was, she never knew when to shut up. 
“Is little Henry hungry?”
Hearing those words, his brows dropped to an irritated sulk. “There is nothing little about it.”
“Ha! Prove it!”
It was as if the entire diner and perhaps the world fell into silence. Had the clatter of the dishes being washed in the back kitchen not rung their ears, she would have thought she grew suddenly deaf. 
“I didn’t mean it… sorry, I’ll stop,” she mumbled slowly and pressed her fingers to her mouth while shaking her head at her stupid behaviour. That was it, this was to be the last afternoon she would ever hang out with Henry and right now, she couldn’t even bring herself to look at him.
Henry chewed onto the inside of his cheeks, trying to stop the words that came faster than his thoughts.
“You didn’t?... Because I’ll definitely be up for proving...”
She blinked at his words and tilted her head, hoping that he won’t notice the wild tremors that shook her limbs, “What was that?” 
“I... yes? No?...I… fuck!” 
Henry lowered his head and slapped his palms across his face, rubbing back and forth with an utter meltdown while mumbling, “Forgive me,” a couple of times. He couldn’t care less of what the waitresses or whoever was watching would think of him; all he cared about was to make her feel comfortable around him again and maybe… even make her like him?
“Henry?”
Soft and warm her voice called to him, slowly pulling him from his anguish like a sailor being rescued from a sunken ship. His blue sapphires shone, an ocean of confusion and anxiety still pooling within while he peered back at her face that was now smiling at him a mixture of comfort and exhilaration. 
“Would you like some of my milkshake?”
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misstyery · 4 months ago
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soulmates <3
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synopsis: just the boys and what soulmate au they’d be in/ which one fits them <3
notes: after this i’ll finish my barbarian! bakugou story and then start another series! thank you for reading and pls like and reblog!
word count: 0.4k
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BAKUGOU has a red string tied around his finger. he’s tempted to cut it, wanting to focus on his goals, on being the best ( and subconsciously, trying to avoid seeing your disappointed face when you realize your soulmate is him ) but he doesn’t cut the string, and he feels himself choke up when he sees the other end of his string: you.
TODOROKI has never seen the color of his hair. of course, others have told him what color it is, but that’s different from truly seeing it. his parents have never seen color either. that alone made his perception of soulmates pessimistic. marriage isn’t about love, it’s about business. but his perspective changes when he goes to UA, and he finds himself a better version of the person he was before. so when his world suddenly bursts with color: when the brightness of your clothes makes his eyes ache, he knows he can actually be worth something to you.
IZUKU has a date on his wrist. he keeps track of the date religiously, having it written exactly on every page in his journal. it serves as a constant reminder of one of the most important days in his life. but when he gets to UA, he begins to slip. his ambitions and classmates keep him focused on other things, so much so that he doesn’t realize what day it is when he’s out with his friends. but the strong shudder that runs up his spine, and the tingly feeling that he gets when he sees you is the perfect reminder.
TAMAKI has little doodles appearing on his skin every other day. some days his arm is full of drawings, ranging from smiley faces to little flowers, and others, not even a dot graces his skin. his anxiety prevents him from doodling on his arm too: save for one time when he was little. he’d drawn the tiniest smiley face, and then an explosion of writing and drawings appeared on his skin. questions like “ what’s your name?” and “i’m y/n!” littered his skin. he wore long sleeves the rest of the week. eventually, mirio encourages him to write something, and later that night, alone in his dorm, tamaki writes a simple “ hello “ on his arm. black ink starts to appear on his skin, and a wobbly smile lines his face as he watches.
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Welcome to Thursday, to Marquet, and to Campaign 3! With the return of the show, that means a return to bingo. Some of you may remember from post-hiatus Campaign 2 and Exandria Unlimited, but to those of you joining us now, good luck.
This call list has 50 items, many of which are represented in the example cards above and all of which are listed below the cut, you can grab your own shuffled card here at this wonderful link.
As in the past, I will not be posting a full list of legal squares after the show because that is a drain on my EST self, but I will be answering questions on the legality of a square during and after. Generally, it is left to your personal discretion and per the intent of my notes, which we will get to in a moment, and if you want to ask me for a ruling.
So, here are the call list notes:
A subclass listed in the Tal'Dorei Campaign setting is "homebrew subclass". One listed in the Explorer's Guide to Wildemount is intended to be a "subclass from another source".
PHB, Player's Handbook. XGTE, Xanathar's Guide to Everything. TCOE, Tasha's Cauldron of Everything.
A full caster is any class that can cast a spell at level 1.
Marriage does not count toward "PCs are related". Adoption does.
"PC gives a surname" is intended as a surname they introduce themselves with as part of their long-term used name. It does not count for temporary disguises.
Very short and very tall are subjective and to your discretion, but I would define the former as less than 4'5" and the latter as over 6'5". Note the modifier "very".
Half-elves do not count toward "more than one elf". It's not "one and a half elves".
I will be doing this every week that I am keeping up with the campaign, and at this moment, I intend to. In the future, as we gain more understanding of the characters and the narrative, I will incorporate predictions on character points and story beats, as I've done in the past.
I do love to see who gets bingo, so feel free to tag me if you win. It does help me make better cards going forward. You can check out my "#CritRole bingo" tag for past cards, and to keep up with cards in the future.
artificer
barbarian
bard
cleric
druid
fighter
monk
paladin
ranger
rogue
sorcerer
warlock
wizard
blood hunter
homebrew subclass
PHB subclass
XGTE subclass
TCOE subclass
subclass from other source
more than two full casters
three or more PCs know each other already
PCs knew each other longer than a month
animal companion
PC is religiously inclined
PCs are related
PC not from Marquet
PC gives a surname
PC background discernible
Sam's character is very short
Sam's character is very tall
more than one elf
Investigation check
Religion check
Stealth check
Performance check
Deception check
Persuasion check
Perception check
Insight check
someone rolls a save
someone makes an attack
someone uses class feature
leveled spell cast
cantrip cast
Initiative
someone gains or earns money
someone spends or loses money
J'mon mentioned or alluded to
natural 20
natural 1
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incorrect-dnd-classes · 4 months ago
Barbarian: I’ve killed more people than I can count.
Barbarian: Because I’ve killed a lot of people.
Barbarian: Not because I can’t count very high.
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angelsnhufflepuffs · 2 months ago
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*sing* it's been ~a while~
and i have been watching vm vs the nein a lot so let's talk about it. as always with me, this is a very long word vomit.
i said over on my mechanics post that the vm playbook requires urgency while the nein's playbook requires setup. here's what i mean. if the nein can make it to round 3-4 intact, that is if all of them are up, they are going to win. period. the nein simply have too many ways to steal turns from their enemies or to maximize their own effectiveness for things to go any other way.
if you want to see this in action even with a reduced roster, go watch the fire elemental fight in episode 129 and count the rounds. between caduceus' mass cure wounds and spirit guardians, caleb's slow, veth's sneak attacks, and jester's guiding bolts, the nein were able to scrape out a win thanks more to their bag of tricks than the damage output. veth only got sneak attack because of guiding bolt's secondary effects, slow kept veth safe from an opportunity attack and jester from a multi-attack, mass cure wounds gave caleb that round to cast slow, and the spirit guardians passively whittled down the enemies into KO range. the accumulated secondary effects were too much for the enemies to withstand and they fell hard. notice how everything built on one another here. that's what cockroach parties learn to do well. it was sloppier than a normal nein fight but they did it with a reduced roster AND with nearly all of their high level spell slots spent before the fight. yeah, they're fucking scary.
vm, however, is a whole different kind of scary. this team can put you down before you even know what's happening. it's harder to target the group's biggest damage dealers because you have a hulking barbarian and often an elemental up front locking down combatants. the dagger rogue can teleport and fly. oh, and give himself an extra action each round. the ranger and the gunslinger can stand back and just go to town. the freaking bear can maul you. the bard can make your life a living joke in your final moments. the cleric is a wildcard because the group is built to fight without her; if she's around, good luck because that's another round of attacks you have to take and an extra round vm can take. their DCs are ridiculous, as are their overall ACs.
but the thing to know about vm is that they have to put you down fast. they don't have the hit points for longer fights and they definitely don't have the utility for longer fights. their druid is offensively oriented, their cleric is often absent, and their bard is mostly support. he's often the only one running that bag of tricks. he can and will fuck up an opposing team given the chance and bolster his own, the problem is that he has almost no backup here. it's a giant hole that is begging to be exploited. it's an even bigger hole when that bard can only cast one spell per round.
so, going into the battle royale, the vm side had to down one member of the nein as fast as possible preferably in two rounds or fewer. it almost doesn't matter who, because if you down beau or fjord, that forces jester or fjord to spend their action or spell getting the downed member back up. if jester goes down, fjord has to do something about it. well, i say it almost doesn't matter but beau's deflect missiles makes her the worst target of the trio and yes, i'm including fjord's half-orc bounce back in that calculation. that gives you one round where the person healing isn't fucking up your team. vm's secondary objective was to monitor and control beau. her movement is nothing to compared to a hasted vax but her stunning strike is the most lethal weapon the nein brought into this fight. vm overall is not a melee group to begin with and their con saves are all garbage. vm has to find a way to keep her off their tails if they want a chance. we also know that vm's plan was to try to take out jester first so throw that objective into the mix as well.
all the nein have to do is survive the first couple rounds, monitor scanlan and pike, and get into position. that's basically it. the nein can absolutely withstand vax and percy's damage output for the first two rounds. pike and scanlan's damage output can be scary but pike in particular has to decide whether she wants to hold high level slots for healing. and she would need those higher level slots to get close to percy and vax's damage output. the nein know from experience that the support caster is where the real trouble will begin.
but before we kick things off, remember that matt specifically designed this battlefield to take turns away from the teams. the chests are an action to search and are located far out of the way in the field. the gem requires an action to activate, which basically means sacrificing your action for someone else's, and shifts between six designated points on the field. matt, who has a deep understanding of how both teams operate, decided to play on the nein's insecurities that they were at a severe item disadvantage and see if he could get them to bite. high risk, high reward. granted, this is me speculating but it does look like matt saw the fight very differently from the players and readjusted the field accordingly.
so we kick off and immediately scanlan proves why he is the top priority on the nein's list. he gets the gem, gets fjord prone on the ground, and comes within a hair's breadth of turning the fight into a five on two potential slaughter. travis brilliantly responds to these circumstances in the best of ways. see, fjord isn't the nein's utility magician for this fight; fjord's the bait. travis makes a very big spectacle of himself and fjord's predicament. and vm buys it hook, line, and sinker. ashley tries to continue with the original plan of gunning for jester only to discover that jester is who knows where.
vax, percy and scanlan? immediately take their shots at fjord. but fjord's on the ground which puts percy's awful misfire mechanic into reasonable play. so fjord gets lucky and doesn't take anywhere near the amount of damage he could have from percy. scanlan, after percy is removed from the field, decides he's better off trying to finish fjord but only hits a 3rd level thunder wave instead of a higher level one, which sam was probably saving for some counterspells or such. i don't think a higher level would have made that much of a difference but it is important to note.
more importantly, vax gets greedy. he got two good hits on fjord with his two actions, he could have left and hidden for the next turn. yes, vm has to down fjord as fast as possible. however that haste is going to be more effective over the long term if vax can keep it. but fjord's easy prey and he thinks vm can down him before jester can get over there to do anything about it. so he goes for the bonus action attack. pike eventually joins this mad dash scramble and like scanlan, she absolutely needed to throw something huge at fjord to get past his half-orc racial trait to have a prayer at downing him. but she did not because ashley seems to have been saving all her high levels for healing so fjord survives the round in honestly a very good position. vax can't target him from range with the cloud up, scanlan now has bigger problems than fjord with molly right up on him, and pike ran, taking damage and healing fjord in the process.
meanwhile, the nein's ladies are free to run and play the field as they see fit. jester has a big opening round flame strike. beau decides she can hold off on her round 2 blitz run to vm in favor of bringing molly onto the field. remember kids, never let a monk with 55ft of movement have the run of the place, it's bad for business. jester then makes a great play with her dispel magic at vax's haste. hashtag thanks, fjord. remember, kids, cockroach parties excel at taking turns and actions away from their opponents. in round 2 alone, the nein successfully remove percy from the field and remove vax's extra attack. that's both big damage dealers hobbled in one round. they also gave themselves an extra turn, adding molly onto the field. and oh boy, molly.
here we see the utility martial fighter molly could have been. sam's confused by the low damage that molly's doing his first round but the damage isn't really the point of the attacks. that brand of tethering is far more important, as are taliesin keeping an eye on which reactions will support the nein and molly's second attack wasting scanlan's reaction. counterspell is off the table for the back half of round 2-beginning of round 3, which is important if fjord wants to get the heck out of dodge.
in case it wasn't obvious earlier in the match that the nein are absolutely gunning for scanlan, round 3 begins with beau's blitz against scanlan. fjord's luck against the dominate person balances out with scanlan's save against the stun and beau missing one attack. here, vm starts to get distracted. they chose their focus fire target, fjord, but now do not, arguably cannot, follow through on it. we'll never know what could have happened had vm said to hell with beau and molly in our faces, we have to finish fjord.
vax tries to retaliate against beau but here's where the cockroach starts to come into play. molly blood curses vax, which saves beau a full sneak attack+ worth of damage. it also utterly wastes vax's turn. fjord manages to escape (and damage pike while he's at it) and regroup where it's safe. scanlan tries to dimension door but fails due to the brand. literally any other move scanlan could try on the pair of them had a better chance of success. instead, another vm turn is lost. taliesin recognizes the importance of getting beau advantage and supports her at the cost of two of his attacks missing, but not before scanlan is forced to cutting words one of them. another potential counterspell and cutting words lost. neither jester or pike contribute significantly to this round; the nein have done so much damage to pike in three rounds that she is forced to heal herself while jester chooses to dimension door herself to the gem and only a low damage roll lets it evade her.
beau takes molly's setup and gets the critical scanlan stun. he loses his full round. fjord takes the opportunity molly provided him to polymorph into a t-rex, bringing him fully back into the fight. vm is really going to have a time and a half trying to finish him now unless they can put up a big single damage attack. jester builds on beau's setup by casting flame strike, whose dex save scanlan automatically fails. he goes down. if you're the nein, this is exactly where you want pike focused, on her team and not on yours. she has access to most of the same spells that jester has and the more you pressure her to focus on her team, the better. it's not wasting her turn, precisely, but it is controlling what she can reasonably do with it.
now we come to percy versus beau. i don't want to diminish the insane good luck beau had to take only 26 points of damage from six shots because what matters here is that percy absolutely could not down beau. period. her hit points were too high and after she took almost nothing from the first two shots, it should have been clear that she was going to get her turn and she would absolutely attempt to stun and down pike and scanlan. i'm not going to monday morning quarterback this fight but i will point out that the more rolls travis has to make to maintain concentration, the greater the chance he fails and you get to hit fjord's actual hit point pool and trade fjord for scanlan. and if you can get him before he can get back into the fray, even better.
beau stuns the gnomes and drops scanlan again. her inner cockroach rears its head once more as she negates more than half the damage on vax's critical hit sneak attack. fjord-rex downs scanlan and grapples pike. the stun on pike here really helps negate that high AC of hers. after scanlan's death, it's a long slow death spiral. vax abandons the fight in the next critical round in favor of keeping the gem instead of targeting fjord. percy attacks beau once more instead of fjord due to fjord dangling pike over lava. he starts to focus on fjord only to get distracted by jester. pike goes down but vax gets caught by beau before he can get her back up. and so it goes with vm losing turn after turn after turn until finally the nein poof percy out of existence and bring molly back. a fitting end for the team who started their final boss fight with eight and came out nine.
bottom line here, the vm team played like they had way more time than they actually did. they had to commit to a target and see it dead as fast as possible. they had to control the battlefield quickly and keep it. they didn't so they couldn't. aside from building on damage dealt, they couldn't create advantages or opportunities for each other nearly as effectively as nein did. all of these factors meant that the nein did what they always do: grind their enemies under heel.
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blavikennbutcher · 4 months ago
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Title: The Price
Synopsis: For 23 years you had lived your life on a farm and you thought one day you would die there, but that was before he came and took you away. 
Word Count: 1.3K
Warnings: Hitting, minor phsyical abuse mentioned, slavery, 
Authors Note: This story has been begging me to write it for months so here goes, this is a short chapter but there will be more to it. Message me if you wanna be tagged in the next chapter!
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They had come in the early hours of the night, searching for food and a roof for their heads. Your father had been terrified but they had promised not to harm anyone on the farm as long as they were treated well. He had no choice but to let them. That night you had slept on the floor with all of your siblings as the large men had taken all of your beds. It was a cold, dreamless night with the constant feeling that you were being toyed with. It was not until morning that you began to feel more at ease, almost excited at the prospect of the invaders leaving once you had served them breakfast.
As the large man eats the food you had made, you stand in the corner of the dining room, a jar of water clasped tightly in your shaking hands. But nothing was more terrifying than the next words that left the Viking leader's lips.
“How much for you daughter?” The jar threatened to slip from your hands at his words. You had no idea where this brute came from, or what their customs were but it was not normal to buy a human being where you lived. Cooling yourself you held the jar tighter, having no doubt your father would scoff at the man’s suggestion.
“80.” Your father answered, not missing a beat. The jar in your hands slipped from your grip and smashed against the stone floor, the blood in your face drained instantly as your back collided with the wooden beam behind you. 
“Father?!” You shrieked. It was as if you were a ghost, the two men haggled before you as if you were a piece of meat and they took no notice of your pleas and cries. The barbarian had suggested 40 shillings, but your father wasn’t backing down without a fight. Launching yourself forward you knelt in front of him, hands clutching the fabric of his sleeve. Pleading with him you felt the warm, salty tears cascade down your cheeks.
“Father, please! you can not do this! Do not sell me to this BEAST!” The world tumbled around you as you fell to the floor, just managing to catch yourself with the palms of your hands. The sharp sting of your fathers slap lingered on your cheek.
“55, because you hit her.” The tears mingled with the strips of hay on the floor. You knew that was the end of your argument and your father would get his way, you were his eldest daughter no more than you were a pig for him to sell or slaughter. 
“Done.” The final word sent a jolt of anxiety through your bloodstream and you could no longer move. Kneeling you stared at the stone floor. You hated that floor, you had cleaned it twice a day for 23 years, but now? You would give anything to be able to clean it for another 23, but you had no choice. Now you were another person's property. 
A loud, metallic thud brought you out of your haze and you finally took one last look at your father, your lips quivering as he picked up the bag of coins. He refused to look you in the eye but before you could say anything further a large, coarse hand came into view and your eyes stalked up the arm to find the barbarian looking down at you. It came as a surprise to you that he would offer you his hand, rather than simply grab you. You didn’t wish to anger the brute of a man so you slipped your much smaller hand in his and let him drag you to your feet.
Raising to your feet you were pulled with such harsh strength that you collided with the man. Right there and then you decided that if you were to be sold like an animal, you would at least be brave about it. You would not let them break you.
Raising your head you looked into the man's eyes and found something you did not expect. A softness. Slowly but surely the man raised his hand to your face, gingerly brushing the tip of his thumb over the red mark that had scarred your cheek. A frightened breath left your lips as he stared into your eyes with a kindness you had never met before. For a few moments the man gently caressed your mark and you found yourself almost trusting him.
“Say goodbye to your father, little bird.” Tears welled in your eyes but you would not let them escape, if your father truly did not care for you then you would not weep on his account. It would surely be a miracle to be away from him. But your heart broke for your younger siblings, all the same. The years of abuse you had suffered at the hands of a man who should have loved you now fell on their shoulders and you couldn’t do a thing for them. Shaking your head you finally spoke to the man who would own you. 
“He is no longer my father.” Coldly you kept a stiff upper lip and refused to show him any emotion. The brute simply nodded, letting go of your hands. 
“You should pack your belongings.” He offered, surprised by the huff of air you let out after.
“I don’t own anything.” 
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Without giving your life time home another look you followed the men outside to their horses. 7 large brown horses stood grazing on the patch of grass in front of your home. A large white stallion stood to the side and you knew in an instant who he belonged to. With no idea where they would be taking you and what would greet you there, you began to panic somewhat, something that did not go unnoticed by the large man now standing at your side. His hand squeezed your shoulder gently and you turned to look at him, breathing heavily. 
“Shhh, little bird. It will be alright.” Expecting to be bound by rope and to follow the men on their horses you were taken by surprise once more as the huge man grabbed your waist and lifted you with ease onto his stallion. Surely this was not how a slave was treated where they came from, you thought. 
The man leapt up with ease and sat behind you, pulling you close to his broad body. A shiver crawled up your spine as you felt his hands surround you. Before you knew it you rode onward and you watched as your home faded into the distance quickly. Tears began to flood your eyes again at the unsurety of your future. You wondered who you would be sold to, what they would expect of you and how they would treat you. 
“Mikkel.” The man spoke directly into your ear as you rode along the uneven path ahead. You turned your head slightly and he caught a glimpse of your confused expression. Smiling, he spoke again.
“My name is Mikkel. Most people call me Syverson.” When Syverson realised your expression had not changed he furrowed his brows at you. “What is it?” He inquired. 
“I would not think a slave should know your name.” 
Abruptly the white stallion came to a halt and raising one hand his men proceeded down the path. You sat trembling. Had you insulted him? Any moment now you expected your first beating from a new pair of hands, but it did not come.
“You are not to be a slave, little bird.” Sy’s mouth grew into a large grin.
“You are to be my wife.” Your breath hitched and judging by the laughter bellowing from Syverson your face must have been quite the picture. Frozen you sat in the saddle, dazed and confused about what he had just told you, so much so you hadn’t even noticed that you were once again moving. 
Closing your eyes you tried to picture being a vikings wife and after all of the stories you had heard, you pondered the thought of it being worse than a slave's, but of course, only time could tell you that answer.
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azucanela · a year ago
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pls some headcanons for Bakugou, Shinsou and Shoto when the reader kisses them infront of everyone. Thank you :)
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KISSING THEM IN FRONT OF EVERYONE
FT. BAKUGOU KATSUKI, SHINSOU HITSOHI TODOROKI SHOUTO
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SUMMARY: in which you and the boys kiss in public, and now everyone is screaming. oh no.
WORD COUNT: 2.1k
WARNING: season three spoliers, insecurities, arguments,
A/N: i wanted to do scenarios bc this was too good ugh thank YOU for requesting this 
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BAKUGO KATSUKI
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lol so HAVE FUN WITH THIS ONE
you two are already dating but you keep it on the down low because its Katsuki and he’s like ew people knowing i have feelings other than anger? ew ew ew
you’re fine with it, but if he thinks its bothering you he’ll talk to you about it and smother you with affection, but he’ll act like its nothing
wants to rub it in his faces that you are his girlfriend, yes, but also he doesn’t want the teasing that comes with it. he knows for a fact that all his friends would bully him because he is SOFT FOR YOUUU and he’s also just a generally private person
you respect this and like it’s fine woo yeah okay it’s nice being the only one that sees the side of him that’s all soft and cute and affectionate
i can’t really see the two of you slipping up unless it’s influenced by a lot of emotions
where do these emotions come from? you might ask
his kidnapping.
you were a mess, but it was lowkey, real lowkey. and unlike the others you do not support trying to save katsuki on their own, trusting the heroes to do their job is the way to go.
so you don’t go with them. the next time you see your lovely boyfriend is when he’s giving kirishima money
so naturally, consumed by all the fear and panic you felt while he was gone, you kiss him!
and he kisses you back and its really soft and oh-
what a shame the whOLE CLASS IS THERE 
everyone is really confused, but they’re happy because they think that the two of you finally addressed the clear tension between the two of you, all it took was a lil kidnapping
except then you pull apart, completely disregarding them, your hands on his face, “baby are you okay?”
you don’t call someone you haven’t kissed before baby
then it clicks for the rest of the class
SCREAMS.
so much yelling
oh god have fun with that one
the bakusquad is yelling at him for not telling him, the dekusquad is scolding you for not telling them, there’s just a lot of questionable things
katsuki will get SO FLUSTERED because this is not what we wanted
at least the attention was off of his kidnapping now
maybe that was your goal idk 👀
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Katsuki really wished everyone would shut up about his kidnapping, it wasn’t something he wanted to think about right now, or ever if he was honest. So much had happened in the past few days and he was still struggling to process all of it, and the disgustingly warm welcome he’d received to the dorms wasn’t helping. It was gross. 
He’d shoved cash into Kirishima’s hand, rolling his eyes when he began to panic at the possibility that he’d taken it from Denki, shutting down the idea almost immediately.
And then he saw her.
Y/N was shoving past everyone and heading to him, and he couldn’t help the relief he felt when he saw her. Katsuki was grateful she hadn’t been involved in the little escape plan Deku had hatched out, but seeing her made him feel calmer than even as she practically tackled him, hands coming to his cheeks as she brought him into a kiss.
Their lips molded together perfectly, his hands coming to her sides and holding her like he’d never let go as her hands gripped his face rather harshly. It would have been the perfect moment, had the rest of his class not been there. 
Y/N seemed to disregard this as she pulled apart, eyes darting across his figure as his brows furrowed at her clear distress. “Calm down, idiot.” His cheeks are turning red as he realizes that everyone is staring, but he can’t help but focus his attention on her as he feels a wave of relaxation wash over him as she begins to run her hands all over him in search of injuries.
“Oh, I’m sorry, for caring about your wellbeing.” She grumbled, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso when her hands left his face. “Baby, you scared me.” His arms wrapped around her shoulders securely, as he rolled his eyes, though Katsuki wouldn’t deny he was appreciating all the attention she was giving him, he was beginning to feel embarrassed as he allowed her to hold onto him.
As if the kiss hadn’t been enough to astonish the rest of their class, the pet name simply amplified their shocked as they all cried out, “baby?” Kirishima had exchanged looks with Mina, who looked equally confused before returning their gaze to Katsuki, a look of betrayal evident on both their faces.
Stupid barbarians. “SHUT UP EXTRAS!” Katsuki exclaimed, holding Y/N tighter to his chest as his cheeks flushed red, he could hear her laugh against his chest. “Can’t a guy hug his girlfriend in peace.” 
“GIRLFRIEND?”
He was grateful for the subject change, though he didn’t appreciate the fact that his relationship had been exposed, until he looked back to Y/N, who beamed at him. 
If she was happy then it was fine he supposed. 
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SHINSOU HITOSHI
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welp
this one will probably have the funniest reaction
like
you did not just kiss him, in front of all these people, was that a joke?
i think he’s the only one you wouldn’t already be in a relationship with, purely because this is just 10x funnier
so ever since the two of you first started hanging, there have been people criticizing you for befriending him at all, because of his quirk, they just cannot believe that the Y/N L/N is hanging out with Shinsou Hitoshi
but also, ever since the two of you started hanging out, the bullying has lessened immensely, most because you threatened everyone it was really subtle, but they got the message
nobody screws with Y/N L/N
anyways, you two are probably hanging out again, and it’s been a while since you got one of those comments, which is the main reason this one sets you off.
“quit hanging out with that freak L/N, he’s gonna ruin your chances at becoming a pro.” 
shinsou was used to this, and your violent reactions, so he immediately brought a hand to your arm to ensure you didn’t commit a murder, shaking his head at you
you turn back to him, and you’re lowkey glaring at him before turning your piercing eyes back to the other guys
and without breaking eye contact with them, you grab Shinsou’s face, earning stares from everywhere in the cafeteria, and then kiss him
shinsou is shocked
shinsou.exe
you killed him.
he did not anticipate this um, you kinda caught him by surprise with this one, he genuinely did not think it was possible for you to feel this way for him
when you pull away, the kiss is almost like magic
you don’t mess with Y/N’s friends, much less their boyfriend
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When Y/N beams up at Shinsou, he can’t help the way his heart skips a beat. It’s ridiculous, he knows this, and he hates that he can’t prevent it. Shinsou is no fool, he knows Y/N L/N, a UA student that could potentially be a member of the Top Ten heroes in the future, would never like him. He wouldn’t be shocked if she befriended him entirely out of pity, given how students used to treat him prior to their unlikely friendship. She’d weaseled her way into his life, despite his attempts to avoid her, ignore her, and even tell her off, she’d stuck around. 
And yes, Shinsou had made the mistake of liking her. On days like this, he’d entertain the possibility that Y/N liked him back, because sometimes she hugged him for longer than average friends did, or maybe she’d press a kiss to his cheek, or even hold his hands.
That was probably just something best friends did.
“Hitoshi! Don’t you know what this means?” She exclaimed, hands finding their way onto his shoulders in the middle of the cafeteria.
Yes, she used his first name.
Shinsou rolled his eyes, trying to keep himself from getting flustered purely because her hands were on him, “Y/N it’s not a big deal, and besides-”
“We’re going to be in the same class!” Her hands move from his shoulders to around them as she pulls him into a hug, “I’m so proud of you.”
He’s shocked that she’s saying these things, and its clear she has more confidence in him than he does. Aizawa had offered him daily training to get him onto the same level as the other Class 1-A students, and he’d be joining them the next semester, assuming everything went well. “It’s no guarantee.” He mumbles, wrapping his arms around her torso.
Shinsou felt Y/N swat his back as she pulled away slightly, much to his dismay, “you’re so talented! Of course, he’s gonna let you in.” 
She sounded so sure, and Shinsou felt his heart swell with pride. 
He moves to speak, only to be interrupted by a passerby, “L/N. Come on, quit hanging out with that freak.” Y/N recognized him, James, he’d bothered Shinsou before, and he’d tried to get Y/N to stop hanging out with Shinsou and been unsuccessful. “He’s just gonna ruin your chances at becoming a pro.”
Y/N pulls away slightly from Shinsou, her brows are furrowed as she moves to confront him, only for Shinsou to grab her arm, shaking his head. “Don’t.”
Turning to glare at the guy, Y/N scoffed, “is this because I rejected you?” 
“He asked you out?” Shinsou asked, but Y/N gave him a look that said they’d discuss it later. She could remember the day vividly, he’d asked shortly after she returned from hanging out with Shinsou, telling her she could do so much better, and so much better meant him. 
She disagreed. And now Y/N couldn’t help but feel bothered as their argument begins to draw attention from others within the cafeteria, she can see in the corner of her eye that Izuku has come to a stand. Though Iida is grasping his shoulder to try and prevent him from doing anything irrational, they all knew Y/N could stand on her own. 
James scoffed at her words, “you probably rejected me because he made you.” The implications were dark, the idea that Shinsou had forced Y/N to befriend him and reject James, though he’d never used his quirk on her and swore he never would. 
Shinsou found himself releasing Y/N’s arm, taking a step backwards as he sighed, only for her to grab his hand and yank him closer before taking his face in her hands and kissing him.
She was kissing him.
Oh.
Shinsou’s mind empties as Y/N pulls away, turning back to James as she says, “my boyfriend doesn’t need to make me do anything.” And the boy practically stomps off in frustration, grumbling about Shinsou’s stupid quirk or something of that sort. Not that either of them are paying attention as Y/n brings a hand to the back of her neck awkwardly, searching her mind for an explanation.
“Boyfriend?” His voice is soft, small, and he knows there are other people in the cafeteria but he can’t bring himself to care about their stares. 
Y/N turns to him, and she feels her cheeks warm as she tries to avoid his eyes, “well. Only if you want to-”
“I want to.” Shinsou replies too quickly, his cheeks flushing.
Y/N nods, “cool.” 
“Cool.” 
Izuku can’t help but beam as he watches the interaction, hitting Iida’s arm repetitvely as as he exclaims, “does this mean I’ll be able to study his quirk more?”
Tsu just sighs, “this means we don’t have to listen to her pining anymore.” 
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TODOROKI SHOUTO
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THIS ONE
probably the most relaxed about it, not flustered at all, you tried thoughh
your relationship isn’t really a secret, it’s just that neither of you are that into PDA. 
there will be occasional cuddling on the common room couch of the dorms during movie night, but that’s seen as normal to the rest of Class 1-A. during dates, there will be hand holding, a kiss on the cheek, an arm around the shoulder, otherwise most of the intimacy is reserved for your rooms
this lack of PDA is why class 1-A was completely unaware that the two of you were dating, 
though you hadn’t tried to hide it, you also hadn’t made it entirely public, you also lowkey thought everyone knew.
mostly because it was so blatantly obvious that shoto was in love with you, but the entire class thought he was unaware of his own feelings and you were just oblivious 
oh how wrong they were
you come into class one day and you see shoto and you’re just like lol hi babe and you kiss him, he kisses back, LIKE IT IS THE MOST NORMAL THING
he’s temporarily caught off guard because like i said you two don’t really do PDA, but he digs it, 10/10 would kiss you again in front of everyone, mostly because after all of the CHAOS that this kiss causes, the other boys in the class stop blatantly flirting with you
speaking of chaos
the class erupts into PURE CHAOS
so much yelling and screaming, they are so confused, have fun explaining that one
shoto is equally confused as to why they are confused and you’re just laughing because you knew this would mess with their heads. he ends up getting a little flustered by all the sudden attention the two of you are getting, but maintains his apathetic attitude.
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Shoto places his bag beside his desk before pulling his things out one by one to place them onto the desk along with the small cup of coffee. Shoto wasn’t really the coffee type himself, he preferred tea, Y/N on the other hand had an obsession if he was honest. Of course, he enabled this obsession, he liked being the one to bring a smile onto her face. 
Yeah, he was whipped.
He could tell when Y/N entered the room because the atmosphere seemed to change entirely, she seemed to brighten everyone’s mood despite how early it was. Greeting their other classmates, she began to move towards him, seeing that he was holding a cup of coffee, Y/N raised a brow. “You drink coffee now?” She asked as she placed her things down. 
Shaking his head, Shoto extended the hand with the cup of coffee towards him, “it’s for you.” He explained, small smile on his face.
The rest of their classmates watched the interaction, Kirishima punching Kaminari’s arm as he exclaimed, “so manly!”
Bakugou scoffed from beside the both of them, “if he was really manly then maybe he’d actually ask her out.” Crossing his arms, he averts his eyes from the two, finding the class’s obsession with their relationship a tad ridiculous. Though everyone seemed to be at least slightly invested in the potential outcome at this point. 
“Whatever, Bakugo.” Mina says, “L/N has the prettiest boy in class wrapped around her finger- ugh! I want someone to love me like that.” She places her head in her hand, brows furrowing as she stares at the two. Y/N is smiling widely at Shoto, who returns her smile with one of his own. 
And then Y/N kisses him. As though this is an everyday thing. 
Mina practically jumps out her seat, and though Bakugo would never admit it, his mouth gaped open in shock as she cried out, “did you two just kiss?!”
Shoto’s cheeks are red as they pull away, though his face remains apathetic as he looks to the ground and Y/N replies, “can I not kiss my boyfriend?” She tilts her head in confusion, laughing slightly at the outburst and the clear shock in everyone’s faces. 
“Boyfriend?” Hagaruke cried out. “Why didn’t you tell us?!”
Y/N’s brows furrows as she looks to the rest of the astonished class, “did you guys seriously not know? I thought we were obvious, I literally call him by his first name-”
“We thought that was because you two were madly in love with each other but neither could confess!” Momo exclaimed suddenly, her cheeks flaming red at her outburst as she slaps a hand over her mouth.
Mina simply nods in agreement, “exactly! But now he’s buying you coffee and-”
Shoto shakes his head in confusion, “I often buy her coffee, normally she finishes it before we get to class.” He looks to Y/N, a small frown on her face, “today she woke up too late for me to walk her to school so I couldn’t give it to her then-”
“You’re so manly, Todoroki!” Kirishima exclaims, though Shoto simply looks at him in confusion as he removes his hand from Y/N’s waist. 
Shrugging, he takes a seat at his desk and Y/N speaks once more, “I just don’t understand how you guys didn’t know.” Standing beside him as he organizes his things while seated, Y/N runs a hand through his hair, and Shoto’s cheeks seemed to redden once more.
“You guys aren’t normally so touchy!” Uraraka has joined the conversation, shock clear in her features. 
Shoto nods in agreement,  “your behavior today is abnormal, Y/N.”
Now Y/N can feel her cheeks warm as she removes her hand and takes a seat t her desk, “you guys are weird.”
Izuku simply sighs, deflating almost as he watches the interaction and leans over towards Iida, “now I owe Kacchan money.” 
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notchesandbullets · 7 months ago
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Bakugou’s Birthday Bash Masterlist 2021 (My Works)
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Fanart credit: @/t1k2h2r1 on Twitter
For Bakugou’s Birthday Bash Collab hosted by: @phasmwrites, @katsukikitten​, @bakugotrashpanda​, @lady-bakuhoe​, @jodrawssmut​, @ramen-rambles​. Ones that contain smut are marked properly, and those are 18+ only. 
Here’s the masterlist that has everyone else’s pieces!! 
A/N: @katsukis-sad-angel​, all of these are dedicated to you. i was driven to write these for you, partly because i know Bakugou’s your favorite and also because i wanted to show my appreciation for all your kind words and support ever since i started posting my stuff on here, so i figured a fic or two was in order to express my thanks but my ideas sort of got away from me. Bakugou’s really hard for me to write so he might be not the best written but! i hope you enjoy nonetheless 🥰!!
These were all written in the past month and edited rather quick to make the deadline for this, so I apologize for any spelling errors you may find.
[In the process of editing and proofreading as of May 17th; completed on May 31st].
complete word count in this collection: 127k
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Vulnerability and Second Chances (Barbarian King!Bakugou x Omega!Reader) feat. Dragon!Kirishima
You are Bakugou’s birthday gift from the League of Outcasts given in spite to the Barbarian King. Instead of kicking you out when he finds out you’ve been lured here on purpose, he takes you in. He’s not supposed to fall in love with you. Love is weak. The war with the League is a long time coming, but when it finally comes time to put Shigaraki in the ground, will Bakugou’s strength be enough? Or will the king cobra’s forces overwhelm his own? (46.9k)
[18+] Red-Hot Jealousy (Bakugou x Reader) feat. Shinsou *SMUT*
Childhood friends separated in primary school, you and Bakugou are reunited at UA. But by then, he has a girlfriend and Shinsou is your best friend. Except... you’ve been misinformed. While Shinsou keeps trying to tell you that King Explosion Murder isn’t actually dating Pinky like you think, Bakugou has to get over his jealousy if he ever hopes to win you over and tell you how he really feels. (15.2k)
Wherever You Go, I Will Follow (Boxer!Metal Arm!Bakugou x Reader) Underground!AU
Bakugou doesn’t like to talk about what happened to his left arm. Years of fighting underground had made him harder than nails. Society was messed up. Children weren’t born, they were made and any who aren’t adopted are raised in mass orphanages. But you’re special. And you’ve chosen the light even though you’ve seen the darkness. Who else to get through to his heart other than someone like you? (7.8k)
A Soft Confession Draped in Ivory and Silk (Pro-Hero!Bakugou x Pro-Hero!Reader)
It’s been a few years since you’ve graduated UA. This was supposed to be a trouble-free reunion, except your reservations got screwed up and now you have to room with someone else while you're staying for the entirety of the trip. The weird thing is, everyone seems to have some kind of excuse as to why they can't let you sleepover in their room for the night. So, you decide on Bakugou's, the only person who can't say no because he hasn't arrived yet. But your actions have consequences and now you need to deal with all the feelings that you've been frantically suppressing as they resurface. (19.2k)
[18+] Guns and Roses (Mafia Boss!Bakugou x Escort!Dancer!Reader) *SMUT*
You’re just trying to make a living and get by. When Todoroki hooks you up with a job at Aizawa’s establishment to dance, you don’t hesitate to take it. But when a mysterious group of four men ask for your company one fine night, you can’t find it in yourself to say no to a particular ash-blond’s advances. (5.3k)
Ruined Plans (Boyfriend!Soft!Bakugou x Reader)
You get sick on the day of Bakugou’s birthday and he’s forced to take care of you. He has a hard time convincing you that it’s not a chore like you are led to believe but this circumstance opens up the window of opportunity for him to approach you with an issue he’s had a long time with your place. And it’s time to settle it once and for all. (2.2k)
Vintage Books and Midnight Promises (Tattooed!Bakugou x Bookworm!Reader) Modern!AU
Your days are brightened by the appearance of Eijirou and Izuku but you don’t recognize the tattooed man who accompanied the two children into your bookshop one day. But he finds his way into your heart and before you can stop it, you’re already in too deep for the man with tattoos that rippled like the purest form of water and smelled like blueberries hand-picked on the warmest day. (9.8k)
[18+] You Can’t Help Who You Love (Sub!Bakugou x Switch!Reader x Dom!Kirishima) *SMUT*
Bakugou’s birthday gift from you is a threesome with his best friend Kirishima when he lets it slip that he likes to be fucked in the ass. But something comes up and present a bigger problem than the one he’s currently got going on down there and with reassuring words and soothing touches, you pull the pieces together to understand what’s really going on. (5.9k)
Pure Affections Wrapped Up in a Dark Green Bow (Husband!Pro-Hero!Bakugou x Wife!Reader)
You had been married to Bakugou for a couple years now and you had a special present for him. But when he gets home, it’s clear that he hasn’t had the best day. You’re there, steady and strong for him to lean on for support and he does until he’s capable of standing on his own again. This is what love looks like. (6k)
[18+] Four is Better Than Two (TodoBakuDeku x Reader) *SMUT*
Due to your quirk, Bakugou’s stuck in the wall. Midoriya and Todoroki decide to fuck him to free him. (4.9k)
[18+] Birthday Cuckholding (Todoroki x Reader x Bakugou) *SMUT*
Bakugou expresses his interest in cuckholding one day when he’s drunk. It’s your job to make his fantasy come true when Todoroki agrees to fuck you in front of your boyfriend. (1.3k)
She’s Mine (Protective!Bakugou x Punk!Tattooed!Reader) feat. Erasermic
This is not the first time you’re seeing Bakugou’s family but it is the first time you’re meeting his grandmother, who is not the best company to be around. He comes to your defense after you stand up for yourself and he had no qualms about sticking his face in the old hag’s because he’d be damned if he lets anyone talk to you like that. You’re his. (3.2k)
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twoghostsfromeden · 5 months ago
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Favorite Crime
Bucky Barnes X Reader
Word count: 1.1k
Summary: Bucky comes home from a mission, convinced he's bad for you.
A/N: This is my ninth prompt for ‘Sour’!
The house is quiet tonight, something you haven’t experienced in quite some time. It’s just you and your record player, dancing around the kitchen, waiting for Bucky to get home from a mission.
It’s been weeks since you last saw him, leaving your imagination to come up with the worst possible scenarios. Bucky made you promise not to drive yourself crazy while he was away, but how could you not?
Your boyfriend has worked with the world's deadliest men, fighting to keep the peace. After his time with Hydra, he prefers to be on the moral side, to right his wrongs.
You’ve never discussed his past, but you never needed to. He’s Bucky, he’s your Bucky. The same Bucky that wakes you up with soft kisses and tickles. The same Bucky that coos at every passing cat or dog. The same Bucky that holds you in his arms, soothing you on your worst days.
He could do no wrong in your eyes. Sure, you’ve had to occasionally correct your friends when they commented on his rough exterior and barbarian ways, but you’d defend him a million times over.
You hum along to the music, your hips swaying underneath Bucky’s shirt. You purposefully wore the least amount of clothes possible, knowing Bucky’s routine after a long mission. He’d come in, sweep you off of your feet, and have you in the bed with him for at least two days.
As the song fades out, you hear the door creaking open, followed by grumbles of your favorite person.
“Bucky,” You breathe out, taken aback by his expression. Instead of running toward you like normal, his head is hanging low, his eyes trained on the ground.
You stand your ground, your eyes following him as he takes a seat on your small couch, his head burying in his hands. Your lips part, your brain trying to come up with something, anything to say.
You swallow, taking several steps forward. “You must be tired. I’ll order a pizza, we can have a movie night.” You say, nodding your head. That must be it— He must be exhausted.
You know movie nights are his favorite, it’s his go-to when he’s had a bad day. You both wrap up in the blankets, his cock pushing into you, holding you in his arms. It’s heaven, you can’t blame him.
Bucky silently shakes his head, his hair falling around his face. It’s gotten longer since you last saw him, letting you know truly just how much time has passed. “I won’t be here much longer,”
You furrow your eyebrows, taking another step forward. You laugh nervously, certain you’ve heard him wrong. “Sure you will, Buck. You just got here,” You try, listening to him take a deep breath. He keeps his head buried in his hands, his shoulders heaving.
“No, y/n. I have to leave,”
You stop dead in your tracks, your heart sinking into your stomach. You stare straight ahead, watching Bucky lift his head. His eyes are watering, showing you just how serious this is.
“You have to leave me?” You ask, your voice barely audible.
“I need to do the right thing.” Bucky says, being as vague as possible. You have no idea what led to this, what caused this. The last time you saw Bucky, you were both happy.
“The right thing?” You repeat, blinking as a tear falls down your cheek. You don’t know what you’ll do without him, you never thought he’d leave you.
Bucky sighs, looking up at you. “I did something horrible while I was away. You deserve so much more, y/n,” He tells you.
You feel nauseous as your head swarms with possibilities. What did he do while he was away? Did he cheat on you? You never thought he’d be one to do that.
When Bucky sees your expression, his eyes widen as he stands up. “I didn’t do anything horrible to you.” He clarifies, cradling your head in his hands. You look up at him, your cheeks soaked with tears now.
“What did you do?” You whisper. You know his work is dangerous, you also know he has to do some things he isn’t proud of. You’ve come to terms with this.
Bucky’s eyes drop to the floor, too ashamed to look at you. He never wants to tell you what he’s done while on a mission, he never wants to scare you away. But after what he did, he wants you to go away.
He’s dangerous. What if one day he hurts you?
“I killed a man,” He whispers, his voice seemingly stuck in his throat. You chuckle dryly, raising an eyebrow. “Buck, you’ve killed men on a mission before. You do what you have to do to keep everyone safe,” You explain.
Bucky shakes his head, a tear falling down his cheek. “No, I killed him after the fight was over. We’d finished our mission, Steve told me to go home. But I didn’t. I went to the man’s house and killed him,”
Bucky couldn’t tell you the reason behind it, he’d never want you to know that he killed a man over you. Over what someone had said about you.
You stare blankly ahead, your heart sinking at the confession. You know Bucky isn’t a perfect guy, but he’s yours. If he said he had to kill someone, you trust him enough to know that he did the right thing.
Still, you can see how much this is bothering him. “Did you enjoy it?” You ask, watching as Bucky’s head snaps up.
“Of course not,” He answers.
You sit down next to him, your knee bumping against his. “You’re not who you used to be. You kill for necessity now, not pleasure,” You remind him. You’ve heard enough about him to know what happened when he was with Hydra, you just don’t know the details.
Bucky glances over at you, his cheeks still wet. “It doesn’t matter, y/n. I still kill people, it doesn’t matter the reason. I’m dangerous,” He warns you.
You roll your eyes, taking his face in your hands. “Bucky, would you ever hurt me?” You ask.
“You know the answer to that,” He responds.
You both know he’d never lay a hand on you. He never even so much as raised his voice at you.
You smile softly, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “I am safe with you. Whatever you do, I’ll be right behind you. I trust you, Buck. Don’t push me away, please,” You beg, your voice gentle.
You know Bucky feels like he doesn’t deserve someone like you, after everything he’s done. But he does, he deserves it most of all.
Without a word, Bucky wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his face in your neck. You rub his back, pulling him as close as possible.
You vowed from that day on, you’d make him feel as safe as he makes you feel.
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headcannonsforlife · 9 months ago
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Barbarian Bakugou x Petite!Villager!Reader
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Part 2
Summary ; reader lives in village that is ravaged by bararians, bakugou catches them and finds out they are mates
Warnings ; violence, there is implied sexual assault but it never happens kinda like a passing thought. I never actually state gender though reader does wear a dress, so if your someone who doesn’t like wearing dresses then you might have trouble fitting into the narrative. REMEMBER ANYONE CAN WEAR A DRESS, I WILL HYPE YOU UP. they eat in it, also they eat meat so if you’re vegetarian or anything of the sort you probably won’t relate, Bakugou yes he is a warning.
AUTHORS NOTE ; if you want a part 2 let me know, also if you want a part with a plus sized reader instead of a petite reader let me know. Reading @thetrashywritingwitch gave me inspiration so definitely check them out
Word count : 2k
Barbarian!Bakugou x plus-sized!reader part 1
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The village was alight, red ran rampant through the streets, the screams of young and old mixing to create a noise that would give anyone a headache. You were running as fast as you could, no shoes on, trying to pick up your skirts as you ran. You had been woken by a scream and hadn’t thought to put on shoes before you ran to escape the sea of arrows shot at your home. People dragged younger ones through the wreckage, others cried, others shouting for loved ones. Nobody seemed to be left unscathed.
Your feet were in tatters at this point, having ran through rocks and glass to get here. Your only motivation that got you this far, even with the pain you were in, was the orphanage at the top on town. On a slight hill further away from the village, secluded in a way. You hoped against hope the children were ok. You dodged through fire, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You had to make it. You had to keep them safe. Though in your blind panic you didn’t notice the figure stealthily following after you.
You were running up the hill now, twigs that littered the woods floor poking into your poor feet, causing you to slow slightly, but your determination kept you from walking. Just as the orphanage came into sight arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you off the ground. You kicked in attempt to get away, hoping against hope you could escape, get to them. Those kids did nothing to deserve the pain. Your attempts did nothing but tire you more, your hope of escape starting to slip from your grasp. “Stay still dammit” a gruff voice stated. He moved you both back, further into the woods, blocking your view of the orphanage and kept you still.
“Oi Kirishima! Keep those idiots away from the orphanage” He called out further into the woods, not second later a muscular man with spiky hair and even spikier teeth seemed to appear in an instant and disappear just as quickly. With the disappearance of the other man he moved you so you could finally see his face, though his grip on you never loosened. If you were honest with yourself, he was rather pretty. Hard red eyes stared into yours and seemed to judge your appearance as you gaped at him. His blond locks spiked out, much more naturally than the other mans, he had a defined jawline, and a look that screamed danger. In your curiosity you failed to notice how odd this whole situation was. Here you were being held down by an intimidation and rather frightening man, but you felt no fear towards him.
“Found you” he said, looking at you with a smirk as his face moved closer to yours. Just as you thought he was going to kiss you his face moved lower to your neck and started to pepper kisses and nips into the sensitive skin. You tensed in his hold, not sure what he was about to do, and scared for the outcome that seemed inevitable. Just then he roughly bit into your neck, causing you to shriek at the vast difference from what he was doing before and the pain that started to thump against your neck like a drum. When he was satisfied, he started to lick at your neck, no doubt cleaning up the blood. “There, now that’s sorted time to clean you up and get moving” Rather than letting you walk with him he picked up and set you on his hip, like a child. “If you move or cause trouble ill carry you in a more uncomfortable fashion got it” At his threat you tensed once more and nod in agreement. You had no idea what he could do to you and honestly, you didn’t want to find out.
He carried you both down the hill and towards the town, he hadn’t told you his name and didn’t seem in the mood for light conversation, so you stayed quiet, not wanting to anger the man further than he already seemed to be. When you both got back to the village it was silent. A stark difference between the village you had left behind, and it set you on edge. He must have noticed how you had started to shake a little, though he didn’t say anything on it. “Hide you face into my shoulder, quickly” he said, his voice slightly softer than earlier, though it didn’t stop the unease. Just as you opened your mouth to question it, he gave you a glare that made you close it instantly. You ducked your head down into his neck and froze against his side, questions swarming your mind. “right let’s move out” he shouted, his voice seeming even more loud now you were against his neck, making you cringe slightly. With one hand now taking your weight he hoisted onto a horse, repositioning you in front of him to lean against his chest. “Get some sleep, its gonna be a long ride princess”
When you woke you were still in his arms, though you were now wrapped up in a fur coat, keeping you warm from the wind. If you didn’t think about the fact he basically kidnapped you it could almost be sweet. He had positioned you in a way that meant the brunt of the wind was hitting against the fur coat, keeping you toasty warm. He was looking ahead, no doubt keeping control of the horse, though you did notice how he would glance down at you. Due to your position you couldn’t really see anything, giving in to the temptation of going back to sleep for now, who knew when you would be able to sleep again, you let your eyes closed and allowed yourself to relax, your head snuggling into his warm chest.
Your eyes fluttered open at a loud shout, startling you from the fragile sleep you had managed to get. “We’re almost there” He claimed, glancing down at your sleepy form curled into him. Cute. The thought was a fleeting one, but it made him freeze up slightly, he hoped you didn’t notice. This mate stuff was making him soft. The horse abruptly came to a stop and the man carefully picked you up into his arms bridal style. You noticed almost immediately this was much gentler than he had been previously, and honestly threw you for a loop. On one hand this was much nicer treatment than previously, even if he hadn’t been particularly bad, on the other hand what does this entail, does he want something in return? The man carried you inside what looked like a large tent and placed you down on a bed covered with fur blankets and looked rather nice and warm to cuddle up in.
“Look here’s the deal,” he said, sitting down on the floor before you, making your face in line with his. “You’re my mate, kinda like a soulmate, I guess. It’s a feeling. My name’s Bakugou Katsuki by the way. Call my Katsuki though, it’ll just piss me off if you call me anything else. Just, listen to what I say. Ill go get you some food, you look like you need it.” As Katsuki walks away you could hear him mutter under his breath “Skinny as anything” When he had officially left, and you decided he was far enough away you started to look around. The tent was rather spacious, but not to the point it was cold. If anything, it was so warm in here. Like an invisible fire was somewhere in the room keeping it warm. The tent itself smelled like wood pine and honeysuckle, and a hint of caramel, it felt more homely than your old village ever did. You knew you had to think through what he had told you, but you didn’t want to even think about it. Taken away from your home after it having been destroyed by them and he tells you you’re his soulmate and you need to listen him.
When Katsuki got back you were cocooned in the blankets, sure the room was warm, but as the night air drew in the rooms temperature seemed to drop drastically, so you had taken it upon yourself to collect all the blankets and pile them onto of yourself. Katsuki stood at the entrance dumbfounded at the sight, as in comparison he stood tall in his trousers and fur coat, with his necklace and earrings to adorn the look. He wasn’t used to feeling cold. He would need to thank his parents later for getting on at him to make sure he had enough blankets for his mate when it got cold. He placed the food down on the table and started picking apart the blankets until he revealed you, cuddling into yourself. “Look, I know its cold but you gotta eat, come on” He allows you to get yourself up, though you take one of the smaller blankets with you to combat the cold.
The meal itself wasn’t anything special. A meat of some kind with potatoes and asparagus. You were so hungry you ate it without question, too hungry to care. He watched you from the other side of the table, it made you slightly self-conscious but brushed it off as his thing, he had a habit of watching you. When you finished you made sure to tidy up your area as best as you could, not wanting to seem impolite. This made Katsuki scoff at you, your insecurity coming back quickly.
“Bed time” was all he said, even though you had been sleeping most of the day, the thought of curling up into the blanket seemed heavenly. As you climbed into the bed, securing yourself under the furs Katsuki came in behind you. He simply brought your body to his, circling his body around yours in a protective manner. With him so close to you, you found it hard to fall asleep. Though Katsuki seemed to find it easy, simply snuggling his face into your neck and falling asleep. You decided to go through your options. Option one, stay still and go to sleep unknowing to what could happen tomorrow, though by his current attitude and behaviour you now highly doubted it being too dangerous, or option two, somehow manage to escape his iron grip and run out of the tent, with no knowledge of where you were, how far from home, or what could be outside the tent. The thought of meeting something worse than Katsuki made you shiver and slightly move closer to him. At least you knew what he was capable of, plus you had the added protection that he claimed you as his mate, those usually ended happily. No one wanted to endanger their mate, it went against Barbarian law. Something you vaguely remembered researching when you were young and curious. With those thoughts in mind you allowed yourself to succumb to the warmth Katsuki provided and fall into a broken sleep.
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Please reblog, it helps my tumblr grow and makes me wanna write more
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transgirl-link · 10 days ago
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How do we not have a circle of storms druid yet. You can be a storm Sorcerer, Barbarian, Cleric, and sort of Warlock (I'd count Fathomless tbh, sea stuff and storm stuff is so closely linked) but the class most closely allied with nature doesn't get a storm based subclass
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1kook · a year ago
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EXPLORER
jjk x female reader
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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
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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. 
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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. 
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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. 
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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.
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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. 
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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. 
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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. 
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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. 
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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?
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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—“
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The sun shines in through the front window, wakes him from his slumber slowly and then all at once. He accidentally shifts into a patch of sunshine, the blinding light irritating his eyes until Jungkook is forced awake. His body aches but has never felt better, a weird sense of relaxation flooding his senses. For a moment, he is confused.
Eyes scan over the room, purple irises carefully calculating every bit of information until he catches sight of Smilodon’s furry tail and the memories of last night come swarming back in. He sits up quickly, whirling around for any glimpse of you, only to find you’re nowhere in sigh—
“Morning.” A small hand atop of his head, fingers stroking against his scalp. Instantly, Jungkook melts into the touch. 
You walk past him and into the kitchen, where you get to work making the usual breakfast for you and Jungkook. He watches you from the couch, naked beneath the blanket you’ve so graciously covered him with. The sun leaks into the kitchen, paints you in soft shades of orange as you amble around the area. 
The scent of hot cocoa fills the air, calling him to the space behind you after he dresses. “Good morning,” he says shyly, presses a kiss against your shoulder. Hesitantly, he lets his hands slide around your waist, lock over your navel. You don’t push him away, simply pat the side of his head as Jungkook snuggles into you. 
You don’t speak about last night and neither does he. You eat eggs for breakfast and Jungkook playfully knocks his foot against yours beneath the table. “Don’t play footsies with me,” you laugh. Jungkook quite likes footsies. 
Morning chores are skipped, pushed off in favor of sitting in front of the couch. You sit beside him, flush against his side, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. The projection box tells him about the weather, says something about a stock market, but other than that, it is relatively quiet. 
There is no mission to complete, no tradition to uphold. It is just Jungkook in this new and not as scary world. The mailman always visits, and Smilodon shows his face every now and then. It is a routine he adores, but not as much as the Human at his side.
He doesn’t remember taking his headpiece off until it beeps from its spot on the coffee table, three distinctive chirps that signal an incoming call from the Higher Sixamian Court.
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Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.
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balenciagabucky · 7 months ago
Text
cocaine high
pairing— mickey henry x fem!reader x oc!max
word count— 2,536
summary— while remembering their past, he doesn’t look forward to their future
warnings— mutual masturbation, cocaine, smoking, angst
authors notes— second mickey fic i wrote but probably the first one i’m putting out, the mickey fic called shopping will be out soon PLEASE REBLOG MINORS DO NOT INTERACT and DONT TAKE MY CONTENT
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 @brattycherubwrites @sebastianissastan @homesicam @honeysucklesteve @riiyy @positionsfyou @pipsqueakkitten @vallerydevora @wakandabiitch2 @jnkyrds @britishpersonlady @weenersoldierr @disaster-rose @cloudystevie @constellvte @feetoffthetablee @widowdays @iwanttobekilledtwice @buckybarnesdiaries @asthesunwentdown @siriuslyslytherin @fallinforevans @tenaciousperfectionunknown @theoldermanswhore @sohoseb @0mrs-evans0
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She takes a drag from her cigarette and latches her eyes directly to his. He has by this time overcome his nervousness, as well as his guilt, shame and remorse. "What do you want to do?" He asks her, innocently enough.
"Screw." She looks at him sideways as she half turns to take another drag. This isn't the first time she has expressed a desire to coalesce, and though he’d match the feeling exactly, they both know it won't--can't--happen. "Well," he says, trying to play the obligatory voice of reason, "I'd like that too, but..." She finished measuring out the white powder before sniffing the line that she took, letting him take his hit after her.
...and he sort of fades out of his senses as in one terribly swift motion she drops her cigarette in a soda can and places her hand directly on his crotch with just enough pressure to make his breathing erratic. He feels dizzy as every drop of blood in his body races like electricity to his penis. Their hands take on lives of their own as they explore each other's bodies with them, aching to connect.
Her large eyes go wild with lust...
Wait. This is moving a little too fast. Let me start from a more informative, albeit less interesting point in the story...
***** MICKEY’S POV ******
Y/N and I collided one hot, thankless summer shortly after I had graduated from high school. There was a wedding in the park, and I was a stoned and an uninvited guest looking for some free snacks. She was working with the caterer, and had the victuals I sought. I meandered right up without seeing her, grabbed a cracker topped with something that looked tasty, and shoved it in my mouth like a barbarian.
"Hello," said a soft and sensual female voice that I refused to believe was addressing me. I looked up to see where it had come from and nearly choked as the cracker became a dry and obstructing mass in my gullet. Curly hair wisping in her face, large, impossibly gorgeous brown eyes gleaming in the high noon sun, she looked like a goddamn movie star, and, wonder of wonders, she was, really, truly, actually talking to me.
I spent too long trying to swallow the gunk in my throat, then managed to croak out, "hi," just before she changed her mind about talking to me. I had never seen such a beautiful woman in real life, let alone talk to one, and I wasn't sure what the protocol was, so I just stared. Somehow I made it through a short conversation without making a fool of myself, a conversation that ended with me taking a job. Working with her. On a regular basis. Either I was stoned halfway to Mars or something special was happening to me, something that had never happened before...
***** ***** *****
Her hand is creeping up my thigh like a deadly spider. Officially, her eyes are brown, but in the sharp glare of this mid-morning sun, they glow a very deep orange. They are also large, a trait which I love. Right now, as her hand does a luscious dance on my crotch, those eyes are challenging me, defying me to stop her. We all seem to know that I never will, and when she slides my zipper down to free my imprisoned erection, I can only nod approval.
She leans her head back and gazes at me with unchecked longing. Her fingers march up and down my shaft, checking its length, its thickness. Suddenly they clasp around it like a Venus flytrap and squeeze a few times, feeling the hardness, the heat, and the involuntary pulse of excitement.
As if in a dream, I watch my hand detach from my body and float across the space that separates us, where it lands like a butterfly in her waiting lap.
I am not alone...
***** ***** *****
Several long weeks at my new job grated past without my seeing her again. The work was easy, but boring, and I started to wonder if I had made her up in my pot-addled mind that day in the park, when suddenly, one day, there she was, and she was every bit as beautiful as I remembered, and even more than I had hoped. That day we were working a large, hoity-toity art event, the kind full of pretentious rich snobs who would as soon wipe their feet on you as acknowledge you as human. Anyway, it was busy, and though we crossed paths many times replenishing the four long tables we were charged with, we never got a chance to speak.
Finally, the end of the night came, and with everything cleaned, put away, and utterly settled, we were free. I spied her in the kitchen, tossing a final handful of used towels into the linen basket, and by some misunderstood miracle, conjured up the heavy nards I needed to go over to her. Seeing me approach, she turned fully towards me and smiled. "Hello, again! I'm so glad to see you've taken to the job so well. I knew I had a good feeling about you."
We made some sort of small talk as we walked together out the back of the kitchen to the parking lot. Somehow it came out that we both enjoyed the sweet leaf, and a plan was quickly devised to take a quick drive together.
This would become a nigh-daily conspiracy for us, and one that would develop a happy, platonic friendship between us...
***** ***** *****
Spent, messy, but only half-fulfilled, I relax back down into my seat, not bothering to pull my pants up. Beside me, Y/N is still breathing heavily, frustrated, no doubt, by my fingers' lack of skill with her womanhood, but pleased, I know, by my eagerness to try, to learn. We stare at each other for what seems like hours, and then she says, "It's too bad you came already." "What do you mean?" I ask. Eyes lowered to my flaccid member, she answers, "I was going to give you a blowjob." Then she looks up, eyes wide, hungry, horny, and I suddenly feel the hardness returning. She leans over and kisses me, gently, slowly, seductively, then reaches down to check my progress. I am more amazed than she to find that I'm already there, and so finding, her kiss becomes more passionate, her tongue dives into my mouth, looking for its soulmate, and her body writhes deliciously as she squeezes my now raging hard-on.
This powerful, wonderful kiss is broken all too soon, but my sadness quickly turns to nervous excitement as, with one last, voracious glance from those eyes, those fucking huge, beautiful eyes, she moves her body away from me, her head moving down, down, down into my crotch. I feel like I'm stoned on some government super weed, I can't move; I wait, wait to feel what's about to happen, what I've never felt before, what I've only ever dreamed about. Her lips close softly around me, and I suck in my breath like when a mushroom trip has just begun.
Glorious.
Heavenly.
Spectacular.
***** ***** *****
Max was a wildcard I could never have accounted for, the ace in the hole of whatever cruel deity found my misery amusing. He was a mechanic and small-time drug dealer, mostly marijuana, and it was at his house that she spent much of her time when she wasn't with me, because Max was her boyfriend. I had been completely unprepared for this development, and I was glad she had supplied this information up front before I had a chance to ask, which would have tipped my hand. As it was, several months had gone by without her ever suspecting I wanted to be more than friends, even though by that time I was certain I loved her. Max seemed a nice enough guy, a little clueless, a lot apathetic, not exactly the caliber of boyfriend I felt she deserved. I sometimes felt that he was completely insensitive to her, and as much as possible without overstepping my boundaries, I tried to outdo him in every way. This achieved the result that she and I became best friends, the kind that were always together, always in touch, never what I hoped. Still, I would take what I could get, and I knew that Max couldn't last forever...
***** ***** *****
I have been in Y/N’s car for roughly six minutes, careening down a dirt road in total darkness, when suddenly she pulls over, sets the parking brake, and flies at me like a wraith, pinning me to my seat with a brutally sexy kiss. She has my pants open and my stiff dick in her hand before I even realize what is happening, and in an effort to catch up with her, I accidentally rip her pants. This only serves to excite her more, and she lifts halfway off her seat, undulating like a magic carpet as my fingers slip inside her. She moans, an earthy, trembling sound that pushes me over the edge, and I'm spurting all over myself and not caring. She continues to jack me absently as I continue to probe her, moaning louder and thrusting herself at my hand, lusty, primal, so goddamn sexy. Her moans reach a crescendo, becoming squeals as she orgasms, her body tense and tight as it floats in the air, her pussy alive with a death grip on my knuckles. She falls gently as a leaf back into her seat, sighing with delight, and releases my hand with a grin. We both lean back in our seats, staring into each other's eyes, both unsure of what's inside. She takes my hand in hers, lifts it to her face, closes her eyes. She softly strokes her cheek with my hand, an action which makes my heart skip, and she says to me, "I love you. I love you..."
***** ***** *****
Two more years passed. Y/N and I were as close as two people could be who were not romantically involved, but my resolve had started to waver. She was still with Max. It was clear to me, however, that their relationship for nearly a year had been almost completely automated. It was as if being with each other was all they knew, and what reason was there to change that? There was no abuse, no treason, nothing to warrant a separation. And so they stayed together, automatically, carelessly, but I knew there was no love.
In February of my third year in her life, at a ridiculous outdoor event sparsely attended, there was an accident which somehow changed our friendship forever. I don't know how it happened, because I was not there, but somehow she had taken a spill and broken her arm. I rushed to the hospital as soon as I heard, and was surprised to find the only other person there was her father. Inexplicably, I was furious at Max. It seemed that she had had a seizure or something while at work, and had keeled over sideways landing on her arm, which, due to a subtle lack of calcium, broke. I sat by her bedside as x-rays were taken and explanations were given, and when it was all over, I gave her a hug and went home.
One week later, She asked me to come over and take her for a drive in her car. She was, of course, unable to drive, a fact that hurt her more than any broken bone, and I of course complied immediately. We spent most of the evening driving various back roads and smoking as much weed as we could handle. That night, on the way back to her house, we stopped at a small diner to get something to eat. I don't remember anything that happened there, except for the part where she pointed to something out the window of the diner, then leaned into me as I looked, her full, heavy breasts resting very deliberately on my shoulder. I denied to myself the obvious translation of this body language, until we got back in the car and she suggested we smoke one last bowl. We never even started it, because as soon as I turned to face her in the car, she kissed me
***** ***** *****
She wants something from me, and as I stand there by the river watching the rain in short spurts water my beer, I realize I want her to have it, and I feel foolish again. She kisses me for the hundredth time and I ask, shaking, "Why are you doing this?" It's the same question I've been asking her for months, the same question I ask myself when I can't sleep, when I feel like a snake, when I wonder why I'm still alive.
Her answer is swift, prepared, rehearsed: "Because I love you." Just once, I wish she would look at me and say it. She never looks at me when we're having a real conversation. She must realize I don't believe her, because she says, "Do you believe me?"
"I want to." I don't know what else to say, so I take a sip of my beer. It tastes worse than anything I've ever had, but I don't care. "Why won't you leave him?"
She stares at the ground, pretends to think, pretends to care that it hurts me, that it confuses me. I know her answer before she does.
"I don't know." Is she completely obtuse, or are those the truest words to ever slip past her teeth? Either way, I hate myself for loving her, for wanting to trust her, despite the obvious lies. I have nothing more to say to her, and I know my anger, my frustration, and my distance are tangible. I know it's finally over, and I know it's my decision.
She says, "I love you."
I say, "No you don't."
Silence. She smokes a cigarette, I finish my beer. A mountain quietly swallows the sun.
"It's getting cold" she says. I ignore her, watching the clouds burn themselves black.
"I have to go" she says.
"Then go." I can hear the impact of those words slapping her across the face. It's really over this time, but she still doesn't believe it.
"Can I have a hug?" I feel her staring at me, those enormous brown eyes soaked, those unbearably soft lips quivering imperceptibly. I hate myself for loving her. I want to wrap her up in my arms and hold her there forever, until the sun comes back up, until it goes back down again, until it reduces us to ash and the wind carries us around the world—until God Himself is dead and buried.
But I don't. I can't. I hate myself for loving her. I hate myself for hating her. My arms are useless, my arms I never deserved.
I ignore her.
She says nothing more, and I stare at the dark river until her footsteps fade and all I can hear is the harsh flow of water, and blood.
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Congratulations on surviving the first narrative twist of Campaign 3—I say through misty eyes. I will miss that goddamn bastard, Sir Bertrand Bell. Due to the grand mysteries of the cliffhanger, this is a short call list this week: 32 words, most of which are represented in the above example and all of which are below the cut. You can grab your own shuffled card here at BingoBaker. Some notes:
"Imogen tells the others about her dream" - telling exactly one other person, but not the rest of the group, counts for this
The references contract is the one with Eshteross
We have visited three spires: the Core Spire, the Lantern Spire, and the Aerie Spire.
Open Mind is specifically Imogen's feat where she must make a saving throw first.
"new magic item" includes an item that has not been previously used before in Campaign 3 so far, as well as gaining anything totally new
"backstory namedrop" refers to an explicit name stated in connection to a backstory that has not been mentioned in Campaign 3 so far
Before you go, I do have an additional thing:
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I also made a separate bingo card for specifically Travis character stuff! Given that we do not yet know for sure when he will be rejoining us, I made a card all on its own. It has 38 items, many of which are represented above and are also listed below the cut, underneath the general episode card. You can get that hard at this different BingoBaker link. Notes:
A full caster is any class who gains spellcasting at level 1. A half caster is any class who gains spellcasting at level 2. If they gain spellcasting at level 3, feel free to mark half caster, even if that's technically not.
PHB is Player's Handbook. TCOE is Tasha's Cauldron of Everything. XGTE is Xanathar's Guide to Everything. Explorer's Guide to Wildemount is other source. Tal'Dorei Campaign Setting is homebrewed.
"melee weapon" and "ranged weapon" does not require the character be a weapon-based class, i.e. being a cleric with a sickle counts for "melee weapon".
"is connected to who Orym is looking for" could be anything including they're also looking for that person, is working for that person, is a sworn enemy of that person.
"is an asshole" is up to interpretation. Mark it as your heart says.
If we don't get Travis' character this week, this card will return next week. As always, for both cards, I am willing to answer any questions you have about squares.
Good Night, And Joy Be To You All [Critical Role 3.04]
Imogen tells the others about her dream
Imogen does not mention her dream
contract signed before new PC
contract not signed before new PC
new spire visited
Orym asks Eshteross about those he's tracking
Dorian plays lute or flute
Travis' character joins party
no Travis character yet :(
Detect Thoughts
Open Mind
Message
new magic item
no initiative
roll initiative
new Rage build
Evelyn appearance
Milo appearance
Zhudanna appearance
Chandei Quorum mentioned
Gambler's Blade recovered
Gambler's Blade missing
a drink in memoriam
group name references Bertrand
backstory namedrop
Vasselheim or Issylra mentioned
Investigation check
Perception check
Charisma skill check
Insight check against NPC
Insight check against PC
Travis audible from off-screen.
Mr. Bailey's International Player Character of Mystery [Critical Role C3]
artificer
barbarian
bard
blood hunter
cleric
druid
fighter
monk
paladin
ranger
rogue
sorcerer
warlock
wizard
PHB subclass
TCOE subclass
XGTE subclass
homebrew subclass
subclass from other source
melee weapon
ranged weapon
full caster
half caster
multiclass
14+ Con
14+ Wis
13+ Cha
16+ Dex
14+ Int
Wis of 10 or less
Cha of 12 or less
single-digit Str
is who Orym is looking for
is not who Orym is looking for
is connected to who Orym is looking for
is an asshole
elf
darkvision
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maxwell-grant · 6 months ago
Note
Might I please ask if you have an opinion of DRACULA? (Either the novel itself or the adaptations); having read both this novel and FRANKENSTEIN, I'm tempted to agree with the reviewer who wrote that one of these is a Classic and the other is actually Fun to read ... (-;
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(Art by Cinemamind)
I completely understand the sentiment of "one's a classic and the other's fun to read" and I don't necessarily disagree with it. I don't read Frankenstein for fun, I read it because it's the book closest to me and it's heartbreaking to think about and it's got one of my favorite characters ever in it and it's got a stake in my soul I gotta renew every year. Dracula, however? Dracula is a blast and it boggles the mind as to how every adaptation can be so crushingly lesser in nearly every aspect. My hardcover edition with annotations is one of my most prized possessions.
It's interesting that people tend to talk about Frankenstein and Dracula like Frankenstein was cutting edge sci-fi while Dracula was archaic and folkloric, when it's really the other way around. Frankenstein is the story of an arrogant dipshit rejecting modern science and thinking to unearth outdated knowledge soon blossoming into a vicious cycle of savagery, where as Dracula is the story of an ancient predator adapting and trying to take over current society and fought by a ragtag team of upstanding citizens using modern tactics to stave him off and eventually fight him, desperately struggling to stay ahead of the curve as he wisens to their tactics.
This book was really ahead of it's time in so many ways. I could easily see excerpts of it, particularly the Demeter journals and Renfield's story, taking off as internet creepypastas or found footage horror films. Dracula's a story about a group of characters playing detective as they update their blog entries about the coming of an initially incomprehensible horror taking over their lives. It's a story that could work regardless of Victorian or vampire trappings, and we know this because Blair Witch Project and Marble Hornets are some of the biggest horror successes of the past decades, all of which follow the same general idea, except in Dracula, they don't just discover the true nature of the horror, they also start fighting back and ultimately destroy it.
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Dracula's obviously a great villain, that goes without saying. I don't actually tend to take Dracula seriously much of the time because I'm very fond of comedy takes on Dracula and vampires, but that doesn't at all diminish his impact in the original book. He's barely in the novel for much of it which makes his every appearence Count, and the atmosphere as well as the many, many forms he can show up or be suggested at really help solidify what an incredible presence he can be.
He's the strange ruler in a foreign country, he's the kooky old man with weird customs, he's the creepy house owner tormenting a hapless guest, he's a barbarian who lives in nostalgia. He's the wind on your window, a dog on the street, a bat in your windshield, a storm on your ship. He's a predator in every way possible, he's a handsome aristocrat, he's a tragic victim of his own monstrous nature, he's a demon who threatens to consume all mankind, he's the fucker who assaulted your loved one and has to go down hard by machete right now.
Even if we just threw out the 124 years of Dracula's history out, we'd still have enough material in the book not just for a great villain, but dozens of great villains and characters who could take just about any of these traits and run with them. And still, the thing that really, really stuck out to me about Dracula wasn't him, it was the other characters
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Art by Kiwi
Dracula's cast is so, so underrated, so unfortunately sidelined as a result of adaptations that only care about The Count and try to give him all the dramatic weight and characterization and sideline all the other characters as merely bit players. Stories that twist Jonathan into a useless fop or an active jerk on the idea that he's the "boring" one, that diminish Renfield's story into just being a hapless and insane goon of Dracula, that make Van Helsing the only character who's even capable of putting up a fight and make him a generic badass, that completely neglect Quincy Morris even though he's great and everyone who discovers him is aghast at discovering "holy shit there's a COWBOY in Dracula?" like yes, there is, and he's incredible and everyone should love him and everyone WOULD love him if only the adaptations remembered he exists.
Adaptations that completely sideline Mina when, and I can't stress this enough, she is the most competent character in the book, one of the greatest pop culture detectives, a wonderful and compassionate and incredibly strong and intelligent character and the main reason why they even managed to win against the Count in the first place, and arguably the closest thing the book even has to a protagonist or hero. I'm not gonna go too into it here but, even putting aside the sheer awfulness of adaptations that try and force a romance between The Count and Mina, seriously fuck off with that, why is it that pretty much every "official" adaptation has had considerably less feminist interpretations of Mina than the source material written in the 1880s? It's a complete travesty (and yes, I'm including LOEG Mina in this, anyone who likes the book and character could have done that concept better)
I enjoy aspects of Dracula adaptations, mostly regarding certain actors's takes on the characters like Bela Lugosi (the only saving grace of that movie, honestly, but rightfully considered the iconic performance), or Peter Cushing as Van Helsing. I very much enjoy the Dracula adaptation Orson Welles did because it at least tried to stay faithful to the book. But regardless of their individual quality, I don't have much to say about Dracula adaptations that try to adapt the book other than "WHY in christ aren't you just sticking to what's in the book? Do you not see how GREAT it is, all the great things about it that are just waiting to be rediscovered and loved by new audiences? STOP WHATEVER IT IS YOU'RE DOING WITH MINA FOR THE LOVE OF GOD-"
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So yeah I definitely got thoughts on Dracula. Utterly adore the book but thinking about how much of it's greatness has been lost in the adaptations kinda makes me a little angry. Of course, this doesn't extend to adaptations that tell different stories or just put Dracula into existing stories or reinterpret it. I love Nosferatu and Castlevania Dracula and Hellsing Dracula and Billy & Mandy Dracula and Sesame Street Dracula. Dracula's basically become a sub-category of monster in it's own right and there's no such think as too many monsters, or too many Draculas
I'm very glad that Dracula's public domain because it means not only can he just show up anywhere, but it also means that just about anyone can pen their own Dracula stories. Still, it would be nice if the other great characters of Dracula got brought along for the ride on a couple of those.
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