mermaids-and-robots

[mermaids-and-robots]

Title: The Executioner's Handywork Summary: Reader finds herself in Silent Hill, unaware what events unfolded that brought her here. She wanders around the town looking for anything that could help her out. She finds herself in a labyrinth within this hellish nightmare, only to be met with someone, or something, that she remembers from a long time ago. Word count: 5,354 Fandom: Silent Hill Pairing: Pyramid Head x Female Reader Warnings/Additional tags: 18+, smut/lemon, horror, body horror, rape/non-con elements, dubious consent, vaginal fingering, oral sex, vaginal sex, monster fucking, tentacles, exophilia, blood mention, death mention, abuse mention, suicide mention, memory loss, swearing, paranoia, being lost, kidnapping, dacryphilia, size kink, language barrier, choking, dead dove do not eat. Originally posted to AO3 on June 27, 2024. AO3 link

You walk the dreary road that leads to a town which is heavily enveloped in fog. The air is cool and damp, and your surroundings are eerily quiet. You keep looking over your shoulder, expecting something to be there lurking behind you, hardly in the distance, but there's nothing there. The odd shadow or dark figure lurches out of your sight every now and again, but you muster it up to it being your mind playing tricks on you.

The last thing you recall is... well, nothing. You can't remember anything. You don't know how you got here or when, and you don't know why you're here. Though, it feels like you're looking for something and it's here, in this strange town. What it is, however, you're unsure.

There has been no trace of another person or living being here, and you don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. You don't know if you'd be thankful or terrified to see someone else here. The town may be silent, overly so, but there's a strange echo within the air, surrounding you and everything else in its reach. It's like a low hum with a deep dragging sound, almost like something metallic and heavy is being drug. It sounds both distant and nearby, closing in on you as you try to maintain a safe feeling distance.

Your skin is clammy and you curse yourself for wearing a dress. If you knew you'd be in this situation, you would have stuck with your regular jeans and t-shirt combo. But, this town nor its weather were on your docket. Right, you recall, I put a dress on today because back home, it's sunny and warm. You were going for a stroll in your small town. Still, how you ended up here alludes you. A knee length dress and tennis shoes isn't the ideal outfit for such a scenario.

You arrive at the town itself, having been on the outskirts of it for some time now. You haven't seen a sign yet, and if you've passed by any, the fog has made it impossible to see. Old style buildings line the streets. Mom and Pop shops, a small family owned barber, a candy store, and a simple pharmacy to start. You try the door to the pharmacy, telling yourself perhaps there's something in there you could use. It doesn't budge, though. "Fuck!" you curse to yourself. You turn around and continue on down the sidewalk, keeping a sharp eye out.

A block later and you come across a pet store. Its door is propped open, looking broken and it's stayed that way since. You go inside. The sunlight is dimmed by the fog, and any light that does make it inside only makes it a few feet before being consumed by the dark. You dare not go any further than the light allows. You don't find anything of use.

You walk some more, block after block passing you by with houses, shops, and a bar on the corner. You try the knob and it's unlocked, so you welcome yourself in. It's dim in here as well, but you're still able to see just enough. On the counter top of the bar, you see a paper splayed out. It's a map. You look over it, and it's already been marked. There's a few circles and X's, apparently marking important spots. Writing on the right side of it gets your attention. It's old and aged, the marker smudged, and you can only make out bits and pieces of said note. It reads, "---y -s -o--. Y-u --d t--s, James. --O DI- THI-. K--L Y--RS--F -O-." You scrunch your forehead at the odd note and conclude that none of this is meant for you. "Weird..." you say, looking to your right, and sitting on the bar top is a flashlight. You perk up, as it's just what you could use right now. Flicking the switch does nothing, and giving it a few jolts still doesn't light it up. It's of no use to you.

As you walk past the map to leave, you notice a detail you didn't before - the name at the top. 'Silent Hill.' You must've missed it due to the lighting and curiosity to see what else the map had on it.

You leave the bar, perhaps more confused now than when you first arrived. Sure, you know where you are now... sort of. Silent Hill isn't any place you've been to or heard of before. The name makes your head hurt and it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You ignore the feeling and continue walking, hoping to find another open door that leads to something more useful.

There's no way to tell the time. Your phone isn't on you, you have no watch, and there hasn't been a clock in sight anywhere. The sun doesn't penetrate the thick clouds, and the lighting simply doesn't change. Therefore, you have not even an estimation on the time of day.

You walk and wander with little to go off of. Still no being has been seen and at this point, if you did see someone, you'd jump out of your skin. It would feel foreign and cursed to see someone here after being alone for so long.

At the end of a long stretch of road, you see something through the haze in the distance. Right now, it's nothing more than a lump on the ground. It could be nothing, or it could be a huge find for you. Either way, you make your way to it, nerves growing more uneasy the closer you get. You squint, attempting to make out what it might be, but the fog still frustrates your vision.

Some long moments later and you're able to see what it is. It's a body. A dead body. It's slumped over, almost folded in half. You can tell that it's a woman, but you don't take any initiative to prod around and find out. It makes you uncomfortable, but the feeling is caused by more than it being a dead body. You look around with quick eyes to see if there's a long, sturdy object you can use to move her. Against a nearby fence is a steel pipe, about three feet long. It's definitely strong enough to move her and, just in case, hold her if she slips towards you.

You pick it up and it's weighty, as to be expected, but you lift it anyway to get accustomed to how it moves and feels. You approach the woman again, that creeping disturbed feeling upon you once more. Using the pipe, you shimmy it carefully under the front of her shoulders and you try to lift, rather pry, her from herself. The body is well past dead, stiff as a rock, and it doesn't budge. You try and you try to no avail, and you edge on hopelessness. But, you muster up what feels like the last of your strength and you give it one more try. This time adding all of your weight onto your end as a counter balance. She cracks and almost whines, it sounds like, and it squicks you out but you power through, ignoring all of the gut feelings and odd sensations you're getting.

Her body unhinges, flinging open as if she were a door that needed prying to open. She lands on her back, and you're momentarily impressed that she's laying so flat. Her arms are by her sides, running parallel to her body. Your eyes go to her face and you scream out, dropping the pipe out of sheer terror.

She is you. She has the same face, body type, hair length and color, and everything else as you. Compared to you, other than being dead, she's not that different. That is, until you examine her further and see that her eyes have been gouged out, leaving nothing but black holes with blood running down her face. Her mouth hangs open, crooked, and all of the teeth are gone.

Dread overcomes you and your blood runs cold. A voice in the back of your mind is alarming you to get out of here now. You look down to her, this corpse of yourself, one more time, and it gasps in harshly, chest twitching as if it's in pain. You shout and jump back, then begin to sprint away as you hear it shuffling behind you.

Do you look over your shoulder? Or, do you keep your eyes forward and keep going? Which fate would be worse?

You have no idea which direction you started to run, and it doesn't matter. All you know right now is that you have to get away from whatever that thing was, and to safety. But nothing is safe here, you realize, and no amount of shelter, light, food and water, or prayer will save you. No matter how much you run or where you try to hide, whatever is chasing you down will find you.

Your body slams into a set of doors, opening them with a loud bang and they shut just as loud behind you. It's pitch black in this building, and you've got no idea where you are. You grope around on the walls for a light switch or a bulletin board in hopes of a map. The walls are bare and cold.

Your breathing is heavy and uneven and your sweat is making you chilly. You feel your way around and hope that your eyes will adjust quickly. You round a corner and continue to feel your way around, wondering if you've just wandered into a labyrinth. Seconds feel like minutes, and minutes feel like hours until your hand finally combs across a door knob. A good jiggle and it opens. Your left hand instinctively goes to the wall and lands on a switch. Flicking it up causes the lights to slowly hum to life. You stand there for a while, catching your breath and letting your eyes adjust as much as they can. The lights are dull and they flicker every so often, giving you a scare that they'll die at any given moment.

Once you've collected yourself and your eyes are comfortable, you take in your current surroundings. You're at the top of a stairwell, and it goes down, down, down... You can't see the depths of it since it appears to go on forever. The lights stop at the false end of it. The situation makes your stomach drop, but you decide to push forward, admitting to yourself that there's no other way. Being in here is better than being outside, where your corpse was trying to get you. Who knows if there's more of them.

You begin to make your way down the never ending staircase, one step at a time. Your pace stays slow but consistent, as you're afraid to go further, not knowing what lurks down there. The strange echoing that you heard outside earlier can be heard in the staircase. It's echoing up towards you, a bit louder now, and every minute it becomes louder, beckoning you.

Along with the echo, you hear voices. They're faint at first, but once you put your focus on them, you're able to hear them clearly. It's mom and yourself, arguing over boyfriends, finances, and family members. The memories play in your mind with crystal clear vision. It's almost like you're watching it being projected as you walk down the stairs. Seeing and hearing her so vividly makes you sick to your stomach. Interrupting, it's now your dad. He's screaming at you as you try to defend yourself, but he's not listening. He's cursing at you and blaming you for everything. He's calling your mother a bitch and yelling that you're a liar. Mom gets involved, and you can hear him strike her. It flashes to another moment where he stands before you with a knife. A twinge of fear shoots through your chest, causing you physical pain.

Many other voices from your life can be heard, all from people you've known for a very long time or for only but a moment. Every scenario is one that was difficult to deal with then, and is hard to relive now. The thoughts flood your mind of what could have happened versus what did happen, and how many of those situations could have been avoided if you didn't say or do what you did. The guilt overwhelms your body and it makes you want to vomit.

If there was a way out of this hell, you would take it right now. You'd end it all just to be free of these feelings. It's beginning to give you a migraine and you're about ready to rip your damn hair out. This is making you miserable.

Your feet stumble off of the last step onto a dirt floor. The doorway that led you here from the extensive stairway disappears. The voices and vivid memories have stopped, but the echoing can still be heard. You spin around only to realize that you're trapped in a solid room. It's just you and the noise now. You have nothing you can do but wait, so you do, not moving from the spot you landed in.

An unknown amount of times passes and the once dark room suddenly has a dim light in it, as well as a doorway ahead of you. You make your way to it, oddly relieved to have another destination. It brings you into a hallway of what looks like either a hotel or an apartment building. You sigh, not sure what to make of this. You tell yourself that it's better than being miles underground. But by how much? You accept your fate, as you can't go back, and nor do you want to, and begin walking.

The echoing noise goes on, not sounding any further or closer than before. It's become your only solace.

You meander the halls with no rhyme or reason. The building speaks to you through creaks and moans of the aged wooden floorboards and squeaky door hinges. The draft brushes against your clammy flesh, each one causing a shiver.

You turn yet another corner and come within an inch of bumping into the only live being you've seen thus far. Your brain doesn't give you any time to process who, or what, it is, as you turn around rapidly and make an attempt to run. This fails, however, as a huge, meaty hand grabs onto you carelessly. The being picks you up within its hand, that's just as clammy as you are, and carries you elsewhere. It takes you down into the bowels of the building, where the echo grows deeper, groaning in your ears.

Any attempt to fight or yell gets you squeezed, which causes immense pain. This being could easily snap you in half and you'd rather not piss it off. You hate it here in Silent Hill, but you're not ready to die yet.

Whoever or whatever is carrying you has a giant sword in the other hand, dragging on the ground. That's when you realize what that noise was. That strange echo was the sword all along, and it's only louder now because you've found the source.

The being places you down and, out of fear, you don't move a muscle. Knowing they could snap you in half scares you, but now you know about the great sword, which could swiftly put an end to you. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness of Silent Hill, and you see that it walks around the area it brought you to. You're unaware what it's doing, if anything.

Finally, it drives its great sword into a specific part of the wall nearby, shaking the entire room. Dust falls and wood chips crumble to the floor. The wall where the sword is wedged into has deep marks in the wood, clearly having been consistently driven into.

The figure emerges forward, towards you, and you stand still. He towers over you at seven feet tall. Muscles shape his form from head to toe, or at least the parts you can see. He wears a strange pyramid helmet, hiding the entirety of his face. A nightmare you had as a child flashes in your mind, and he was in it. It scared you to death as a kid, and you had it on multiple occasions. You never truly got to defeat him, and now you're asking yourself if that's why you're in Silent Hill. How in the world would you be able to defeat him? He has every advantage against you and you have nothing to fight with. The only thing you could do is plead for your life, but you don't think that will save you with a being that has a presence like he does.

You take a deep breath in to build up your courage and to find your words. You don't know if he can speak or if he would understand the words you say. A strange thought crosses your mind, and you ask yourself if he knows you. Such a thing isn't impossible, but definitely strange. You wonder, since you had that recurring dream with him in it many years ago, if he somehow knows you because of it.

You gulp down your fear and speak. "I'm not sure if you know me, but I know you." You stand, unmoving, and all he does is look at you observantly. "I had a dream with you in it years ago. I was a child then. I had the same dream a few times, but I never got to the end of it." Still the same response from him. "I don't know if I was sent here to defeat you or something else, but you don't have to hurt me. Okay?"

He looks at you, still observing, almost curious, and he tilts his head ever so slightly. He takes a step toward you and you tense up, horrified, but stand firm.

"Can you understand me? Are you able to say anything?" You ask these questions, still not moving even as he inches closer to you. "Am I here because of you?" You try to get another word out but can't, as his strong hand has snaked its entire girth around your neck. He picks you up, choking you, and you tell yourself that this is it, this is how it ends. Your finger nails dig into his hand but it doesn't affect him whatsoever.

A long, black, eel like tongue creeps out from under his helmet and closes the distance between you. Squirming in his grip, your feet off the floor, you attempt to wiggle away but it's of no use. His hand on your neck isn't squeezing like it was and you can breathe, as he's just holding you now. He doesn't need to threaten or hurt you for you to obey him. His tongue replaces his hand, wrapping itself around your neck, and you begin to choke again. You want to scream and fight, but nothing you do will help you. You have two options: let him do what he's going to do, or die in an attempt to fight. Still, you err on the side of caution and assume that he won't kill you as long as you go with it.

You're gasping for air now and he stops, dropping you to the ground. It's not that you expected him to be a good host in such a place, but that fall hurt, and the least he could've done is put you down gently or try to catch you.

Before you can compose yourself, he picks you up in his hand and holds you tightly. This time, you notice, he's not holding you to the point of it hurting. Was he being careful with you now? That couldn't be the case.

His tongue wiggles out once more, this time making its way for your face. You, again, try to get away from it but fail. It slicks against your lips and it's slimy and cool to the touch. The feeling of it grosses you out and you try not to gag. You throw your head side to side, aiming to avoid this creatures tendril. He over powers you though and with a quick, tough squeeze, he puts you in your place, warning you to stop messing around. It was more than enough and it made you stop avoiding him.

He forces his tongue into your mouth and slithers it down into your throat, making you gag and choke on him. Your hands reach up to stop him, but his free hand grabs both of your hands with ease and keeps them away from his tongue. You writhe in his grasp and, for the first time, he makes a noise. It's a deep and guttural groan, and it sounds like he's pleased to be making you squirm. His moan reverberates within the walls of the room and makes your insides feel a certain way.

He stops assaulting your throat and pulls his tongue out and it returns to under his helmet. When it does, he lets out another noise, this time quieter than the last, but it's still just as bassy. He holds onto your hands still, now dangling your form before him. He does nothing but look at you, or so you assume. He takes in the shape of your body and how your chest rises and falls as you breathe. He takes in how your eyes look at him, sometimes darting around the area for a possible escape. There's no escape for you, and you both know it.

He places you onto the ground and motions his hand toward you in a vague manner. You don't do anything, clueless as to what he wants. He does it again, this time more fervently. "I don't know what that means," you tell him. You roll over possibilities in your head quickly, as to not anger him. You've got nothing on you but your clothes. "Do you... do you want my clothes off?" He doesn't say anything or move, and nothing but the sudden heavy, loud breathing under his mask gives you an answer. That's all he could possibly mean, right? You do as he told you to and remove your clothing, and now you stand completely naked before him. You want to cover your chest but he doesn't let you, picking you up with one hand.

He dangles you by your hands and uses his other hand to spread your legs, your cunt now exposed to the cold, damp air of Silent Hill. He lets out a low moan, a small one compared to the last couple. You hate to admit it, but his noises are doing things to you. He places you onto the ground again and motions towards the wall. You stand with your back against the wall now and he makes you spread your legs again for him. He has his hands on your thighs, but he lets you do the action yourself. You're hoping he doesn't notice your arousal, as it's going to give you away at some point.

His uses a single finger to touch you, and you're much warmer than he was expecting. It delights him. Your wet lips caress his finger as he slides through you, feeling you, and he moves it up to your clitoris. He stops when you breathe in sharply, again making you wonder if he's being careful with you. A second later when he notices it wasn't a whine of pain, but rather of pleasure, he keeps going. He continues to slide his finger over your clit and back through your folds, then back up to your nub again just to repeat the process.

He delves his finger into you and reaches your depths. Just his finger alone is almost more than enough for you to take, but he keeps going deeper, stretching you out more. He toys with you, wiggling and jerking his finger in every which direction to see what you like the most. Your pussy takes him in, your arousal leaking down his finger, glistening in the pale light. He removes himself much to your disappointment.

His black tongue comes back out to play, this time going down to where his finger was. He gets his body closer to you and places a hand around your waist, pinning you to the wall. There's no escape. His tongue flicks at your clit and you gasp, looking up to him. You wear an expression that shows him how desperate you are, how you'll take whatever he gives to you. His creepy tongue does magical things to you, tracing around your clit, alternating between harsh and lazy licks.

He tires of this and needs to taste your insides, so he wastes no time with diving his tongue into your pussy. Your juices squelch around him and you let out a moan, which spurs him to tongue fuck you faster. Directly, it's too much pleasure for your body to handle and you cum, constricting around his tongue inside of you. He lets out one of those guttural groans again and it does things to you as your orgasm keeps on. Before you can comprehend what's going on, and before your orgasm is even over, he pulls his tongue out and it recedes back under his mask. He turns you around and pushes you against the wall, forcing your legs apart. He takes a step closer to you and his body dominates yours. The size difference makes you that much wetter.

Next, he presses something warm and hard against your center, soaking whatever it is between your pussy lips. "Holy shit..." you whisper, now knowing what it is and what he's doing. His cock is massive and he's about to absolutely destroy you. "I-" you breathe out, extremely aroused, "I'm not sure if it'll fit." He grunts at you, as if it's a demand that it will fit.

He sticks the tip in and you moan out, still trying to get over your ruined orgasm. Much to your surprise, he goes slow, but you're not sure if he's doing it for you or himself. He breaths are super heavy, bassy in your ears, and he drives himself deeper and lets out another deep noise. With each inch that he puts into you, each movement he makes, you and him moan in unison. He wants to help himself and use you as he wants, but he's reveling in the feeling of taking his time with you and how you react. He doesn't want to hurt you, even if you don't know it.

After an eternity, he's buried to the hilt in your soaking cunt, dripping down his length and onto his lower half. He places his hands on your hips and begins to move you up and down on his shaft. He starts with a reasonable pace at first, but he picks up speed once he feels that you've accommodated to him well enough. Even if you didn't, no amount of fighting him would make him stop. He wants you to take him, all of him.

He's got you bouncing on his cock now. Even though his hands are still on your hips, he's let you take control and you've been riding him on your own for a while now. He watches you bounce on him and enjoys the sight as your ass jiggles whenever your center meets his. Your pussy takes his length so easy and you feel so good wrapped around him. Warm and tight, just for him. His dick brushes against your favorite spots and slams into your insides, causing you a pleasurable pain. You pant and moan, whining at the feelings.

You're chasing your high now, you're not far from it. You curse and mewl, ready for your release. Just as you're about to burst, he stops and pulls out of you completely, laying down on the ground and bringing you down on top of him. "That's twice now that you've ruined it for me!" you let out, joking about the situation. He pays no attention to your complaint and sinks you down onto his cock, hands on your waist, and he uses your body for himself. The action stuns you and shuts you up, immediately making you chase that high once more.

Your eyes close and you focus on your impending orgasm. He's reaching new depths inside of you, tickling the perfect places, all of it causing you to feel that warm, tight coil in your stomach become more pronounced. You place your hands on his chest, his skin now warm and sweaty, the muscles moving under your fingers. You feel how thick and veiny he is. His hands clench onto you and force you to pound onto him harder. It causes that wonderful pain again. All of the sensations he's giving to you, over and over, it's too much for your body to take.

Your orgasm washes over you and your eyes shoot open and you take in the sight of him, making your walls squeeze him tighter. He lets out his infamous groan which only spurs your climax to keep its pace. His fingertips dig into you, causing that sweet sensation he gives you - hurt, but it's mostly unintentional.

He still makes your hips roll against his as he's not finished with you yet. His tongue makes a final appearance, slinking for your lips and this time you welcome him. The sensation it caused the first time initially disgusted you, but deep down you enjoyed it. Something about not being able to say no or fight back made it erotic for you, and he loved seeing you struggle, both to avoid him and gain composure.

His tongue now in your mouth, you suck on it as if it were his dick and you welcome however much he feeds to you. He gives you more and you continue your ministrations as he snakes it down your throat, gagging you. You still manage to moan around him, his hands holding you tighter. Your pussy is sensitive now after having such an intense orgasm, but he's not done. Once he thinks you've had enough of his tongue prodding at your insides, he pulls it out, only for it to retreat to your clit. He licks you vehemently and doesn't slow down, no matter how much you wriggle and whine. He disregards your over-sensitivity and uses it to his advantage, knowing that you like it - and you do. He keeps at it, causing you to squeal and shout.

He feels his hard member inside of you begin to throb as his climax gets closer. He continues tickling over your clit to taste you, and your legs spasm on either side of him. He knows that he's giving you too much to handle right now, and it draws a noise out of him. But, he can't help but keep teasing you, knowing you can't and won't stop him.

"Please!" you let out, "It's too much. Please stop, I'm begging you!" You cry out, and some tears fall down your cheeks. He persists, but puts more pressure on your clit with his tongue, which unleashes your final orgasm. It's so intense and overwhelming that you shake around him. Your pussy grips him tighter than before, causing him to spill his cum inside of you. This grunt is the deepest, most monster-like one he's let out yet. He pumps you full of cum, the hot, white liquid spilling where you meet. His tongue laps at your clit a few more times before retreating back to its home inside of his helmet. He continues to let out his noises, groaning loudly and breathing heavily. Your walls only flutter around him now, no longer gripping him for dear life.

You still don't have any idea how you got here, but perhaps the nightmare has just begun.

[mermaids-and-robots]

Fanfic is a free hobby.

It's one of the last few things we can have as a society that's free. You can engage, for free. People give you things (art, stories, etc), for free.

Don't buy into the consummerism just because it's everywhere else.

You don't have to consume everything you interact with. You don't have to use things, just because they exist.

You're allowed (still, for now), to have things that are enjoyable for free.

Do you realise how insane the world is? We don't have many places where we can just be, for free anymore, but ao3 is. Did you notice we don't have ads in ao3? We don't have pop ups? Where ELSE do we not have that?

Where else can you just go and not have to wait for a commercial to be over or for ads to be on the sidelines?

I don't think the younger people understand, but the whole of internet used to be like this. YouTubers would do Youtube for free, just because. You couldn't monetise your internet presence before.

Ao3 is like a little preserved corner of the internet where the old internet used to be, and it's being attacked by people who do not understand that free things are allowed to exist without judgment.

Please don't ruin this for us.

Some of us need it.

[mermaids-and-robots]

i actually never ever want AO3 to be censored bc nothing is more fun than reading the tags on a fic and going “huh. didn’t know there was a market for that.”

[mermaids-and-robots]

"what's the point of collecting physical media if streaming exists?

[mermaids-and-robots]

i feel like we as a digital society have forgotten the important rules of the internet

Don't feed the trolls

Never give out personal information

Anonymity is the best defense

Don't click suspicious links

Don't click popups and ads

Just because it's written doesn't mean it's true

You are responsible for your own experience

There is porn of everything, act accordingly

[mermaids-and-robots]

quick, hide anything you like, we can't let people know we enjoy things

Oh

[mermaids-and-robots]

Here’s the deal: most of the lighting in my art makes 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦. I just make it up as I go along. That’s why I need to do some good lighting studies every now and then - I can’t get away with this forever 😅

I created these for last month’s Patreon drawing challenge! If you like challenges, sign up to the flame tier and join us ~ we just got started on drawing underwater poses for May ✨ ⠀⠀⠀

[mermaids-and-robots]

all I do is listen to music and think about my silly little fictional people

[mermaids-and-robots]

Title: He Follows Summary: Reader walks home at night and is met with an unfriendly figure. Word count: 4,799 Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female Reader Warnings/Additional tags: 18+, smut/lemon, rape/non-con, oral sex, vaginal sex, stalking, tactical gear/mask/glove fetish, choking, gags, being tied up, kidnapping, swearing, claiming, crying, praise kink, power imbalance, dead dove do not eat, no use of y/n. Originally posted to AO3 on Aug. 24, 2024. AO3 link

It's late at night as you walk home, just after ten, and the lights lining the sides of the street don't offer much more than a dim shine, barely illuminating the darkness. It rained all day, leaving the ground wet to slap under your shoes. Awnings of stores drip off and into the puddles below them. The stray car will drive by every once in a while, the driver minding their own business as they travel. Most shops are closed for the night however a few remain open, either late into the night or are 24/7. A few people come and go from these stores, the second shift employees leaving so the third shift can take over.

You pass a couple of bars and the thumping of music and the sound of drunken laughter can be heard from inside. It makes you smile lightly to hear people having fun. But seeing someone stumble your way, even when they pay you no mind and pass you, causes you to shuffle over a little bit. This path home from work has gotten you into enough run-ins with drunkards, and sober people, more than you've wanted, and you would rather avoid any such confrontation.

There's alleyways that you walk past and don't give any second thought to, as they're usually shallow and empty minus a raccoon or two or a feral cat.

For the most part, people mind their own and don't bother others as they go about their night.

You saunter by a couple of tall, slender brick apartment buildings and hear the entry door close from one of them. People are always coming and going from them, even at this hour, so you don't look back. The person drags behind you by about 20 paces - not too close, not too far. It's nothing abnormal. It's just when they stepped out of the building and they happen to be going to same way you are.

The upcoming intersection you have to take a right. So when it approaches, you do just that, and the person, moments later, still follows. You swallow past a nervous lump in your throat as you begin to grow tense. You think they're following you, whoever it is, but you still don't look back to see who it might be. However, you try to brush off this feeling, trying not to assume the worst and that they're simply going their own way.

It's another few blocks and they are still behind you, and it sounds like they're about the same distance away as when they first exited the building. You think of taking another right turn, which you don't actually have to, but only to see if they continue to trail.

You take the first right turn that appears, down a road you know but not one you take, and sure as shit... they're right behind you. You pick up the pace but try not to make it obvious. Their footsteps follow suit a few seconds later, now more so sounding like a stride than a walk. The hair on the back of your neck stands up and a pit forms in your stomach, and it feels like they're closer to you now.

Your nerves grow and you heart starts to pound, beating hard against your chest and it pulses in your ears. Hastening your pace and now breathing heavy through your nose, every so often taking in a breath through your mouth, your throat begins to get dry at the exertion and growing intensity of the situation. Whoever it is, you know that they're for sure following you. After meandering around from right to left, and left to right, you've gotten yourself into unfamiliar territory and the true panic starts to set it. It's a creeping, crawling sensation that sends chills across your flesh, goosebumps breaking out and causing a hot flash that makes you feel sick for a moment.

You glance behind you with a jog. He, you have now learned, is following you. Still. He's tall and menacing. Much taller than you, and definitely stronger by the looks of it. His long legs keep pace, now around ten steps behind you, with little effort. Even at the speed you're going, he's easily able to keep up. His heavy boots are a bone chilling noise, almost thudding within your ears, as he inches closer.

Someone across the street is walking and appears to have their sights set on one of the 24 hour stores. You shout, "Hey!" to get their attention, but they give you no more than a half assed flit your way and then duck inside the shop. You think of making a bee-line for this place, hoping for safety, so you can call the cops on this creep trailing you. But, even before the thought has time to finish unfolding, the man stalks up to you with an unmatched speed and force.

A hand is on your wrist while the other is over your mouth, pulling you into a dark alley. A muffled "Stop!" comes from you but is hardly audible to him. You swat at him with each attempt to hit him being a failure. He presses his gloved hand against you with a firm, demanding grip, still over your mouth but now also grabbing your face. The hand that was holding your wrist is now around your throat, squeezing. You still try to fight back, to no avail, and your energy feels like it's being drained from you, completely spent. Your breathing quickens to the point you might hyperventilate and pass out, and that's when your vision starts to get blurry and black spots begin to appear.

The last thing you do before blacking out is look up to him and see nothing on his face but dark eyes. The lower portion of his face is covered by a skull balaclava. Then, your eyes flutter shut as everything goes dark.

You come to with fuzzy vision and a headache. You blink at the harsh lighting around you. Rather, the lighting only feels harsh due to the previous events and your headache. You let out a groan as you stretch your neck and try to move your limbs. You are unable to, though, as they're zip-tied to a chair, holding you hostage. You wail, muffled, and that's when you feel the makeshift gag in your mouth that's just a bandana tied around you tightly, stuffed in your mouth.

"Glad to see you're awake." A man states. It's the one who was following you earlier, the one who grabbed you and choked you until you passed out. The one who kidnapped you. You whimper, afraid for you life, and he approaches you.

The room he's keeping you in is filled with nothingness. Just regular, dingy office like lights with off-white walls with a closed door. It's a smaller size room, and upon looking around with a couple quick twists of your neck, the only other furniture in here is an old style metal desk. Your focus goes back to him.

"Not gonna hurt you," he says, though it doesn't sound like he means it. He reaches a hand out and pulls on the gag, letting it fall around your neck. "Help!" you yell, but your throat is coarse and it hurts, feeling like sandpaper. You cough at the unpleasant sensation, making your head throb and causing you to wince in pain.

He cocks his head at you and that's when you notice, now that your eyes have adjusted to the lighting, that he's switched his clothing. He is now wearing a tactical jacket, black, with the pockets empty which would otherwise be full of all the works - knives, grenades, light sources, etcetera. His mask is a full face one, as opposed to what he was wearing earlier, but his eyes show - they're a marvelous brown shade and they look tired, yet warm and welcome. He's got black grease paint applied around his eyes, messy, and he wears black gloves with skeleton appliques on them. You ignore the rest of his body because your main focus is on his face, watching him as he gets closer and towers over you, before he finally squats down and is now face to face with you.

"What do you want?" you rasp out with a harsh tone.

He doesn't answer you. All he does is look at you, taking you in and internally admiring you.

"You." He answers, and it snaps your attention back to him. He stands and paces around the room, all within your line of sight.

You're tired, and whatever he has planned for you better put you out of your misery, you think. You don't want to be awake for whatever he's going to do.

"If you're gonna kill me, just get it over with."

"I'm not gonna kill ya, sweetheart." he says. The pet name makes your stomach churn.

"Don't call me that." you snap.

He bolts over to you, leveling himself with you again. "Don't get mouthy with me," he tells you, "I'll call ya whatever I damn well want." He says, then stands. And as he does, he hooks his finger under your chin, making you look up at him.

"You're disgusting." you snap once more.

He doesn't do anything other than walk away, then replies, "Don't know how much fight you've got in ya... 'specially not after earlier. But you've got a mouth on ya." He pauses before continuing on with his current thought. "Might have to see how good you are with it." He turns his body back to you, focusing his eyes on you.

"I'm sure you would like to know, you freak." At this point, you don't know why you're mouthing off so much, knowing that it's going to get you into trouble with him.

"The fuck did I just tell ya, sweetheart?" A rhetorical question, but he appears by your side and cuts the zipties with a knife he had hidden on him somewhere. Even though you're up and free to move around, you have little strength to put up a fight or to make a run for it. Chances are the door is locked anyway, and it'll be difficult to do anything since your hands are still tied behind your back.

He manhandles you and takes you aside, away from the chair, as you stumble on your feet. He forces you to your knees in front of him, the concrete flooring harsh on your body causing you to hiss against the pain.

Inevitably, you look up to him, eyes automatically landing on his and vice versa. You're sure you know what he's about to do, and he does, getting his dick out of the confines of his jeans. It doesn't surprise you. "How typical." you tell him.

Outwardly, you appear unamused and not at all surprised that a creeping man that was stalking you not too long ago is about to rape you. But first, is of course going to make you suck his dick just to add onto the humiliation and instill the power he has over you. Inwardly, however, you're feeling quite the opposite. The sheer size and girth of him has your stomach doing flips, your mouth watering, and your thighs squeezing together to quell the tingle in your clitoris. You don't care too much what he looks like under the mask and gear, as that's got you riled up as is, but a peek wouldn't hurt, you think.

He viciously grabs a fistful of your hair and forces you closer to him and the tip of his cock brushes against your lips. You twist and crane your head away from him, but each time you do, he ends up guiding you back to his dick anyway. You attempt to keep your mouth shut tight as he teases the tip against your lips, but he has enough of your refusal. He lets go of his member for now and pries your mouth open with his thumb. Once he basically unhinges your mouth, he shoves his index and middle finger into your mouth, resting against each side respectively. He pulls your jaw down and makes you gag on his digits, causing him to let out a puff of a laugh, as he pulls on your hair to open you up for him even more.

"Stop fuckin' around, sweetheart," he commands, "Open up f' me." You let out an audible whine, however you don't know if it's in protest or out of arousal, because it definitely sounded like the latter to you, and you hope he doesn't pick up on it.

He continues to manhandle you as you keep on resisting; not fully opening up for him, yet you haven't bitten him, either. And you could. You should. But you haven't. Why not? You ask yourself. Because you like it. You enjoy the way his deft fingers wiggle in your mouth and how they gag you. You like the rough sensation of his gloves on your tongue and how it makes your mouth water, how it begs to drip from your lips. You're enjoying this little "game" of wrestling with him, and clearly he does, too, since he hasn't done anything more than insist and keep at it.

He grunts and then lets out a gasp, telling you, "C'mon, sweetheart. Open that pretty mouth and suck my cock." The sentence stuns you upon hearing it, and your mouth suddenly drops open, obeying him. "Good girl."

He puts the head in, and then another inch, and then another and another. He keeps going, bit by bit, until his whole length is inside of your mouth and sliding down your throat. You choke and gag around him and he groans at the sounds you make, thrusting into your wet mouth with an unapologetic force.

You whimper and moan around him as tears swell in your closed eyes. He uses the hand in your hair, still gripping, to make you look up to him. "Look at me, pretty girl." he says, and you oblige, opening your eyes and a couple of tears fall. He gruffs out a moan as the sick bastard is pleased with the sight of seeing you cry. "You don't have to cry," he lies in an attempt to reassure you even though it doesn't work, "Not a whole lot, anyway." There it is, he admitted it. What a sick fuck.

He makes you take his cock, forcing you to slurp up and down the shaft. But, admittedly, he tastes so fucking good. Normally sucking dick isn't your type of thing. All of the other times you have, it was consensual. But this time, now that it's not, of course you'd enjoy it. You're just as much of a sick fuck as he is for liking it.

You wouldn't be able to describe it, but he just tastes good. He feels good, too, the soft skin of his hard cock gliding over your tastebuds and into the back of your throat.

You stare into his lust filled brown eyes as you let him fuck your mouth as you lazily hang your jaw open.

"Good girl, just like that."

You jerk your arms, wishing that they were free as you suction your mouth around him. This action catches the man off guard and he loosens his grip in your hair, also not pushing and pulling you as much as he was. You now give him head, sucking on his dick and licking the length before pulling back to give the same attention to his tip.

"Fuck. Like that, sweetheart."

His praise has you moaning around him to cause a pleasing vibration. Eye contact is maintained as you down his dick and, while he wears a look of pleasure in his eyes, a flicker of a smile shines through. It's a cocky, shit eating grin, and you can tell without seeing it. He then throws his head back in some sort of attempt to hide this demeanor as you work him in your mouth.

You give him all you've got and then some, tiring your jaw and exhausting yourself in the worthy process. He moans and grunts through the fabric covering his mouth as he becomes closer to his release. Pre-cum escapes from the tip and into your mouth, landing on your tongue with its tang. You suck him, bobbing your head as his hand is still knotted in your hair to offer you some guidance.

"Almost there, baby." he breathes out as your oral ministrations drive him mad.

He then uses his free hand to grab under your chin, near your neck, and hold you steady there, tilting your head ever so slightly upwards so he can view you. The man gives you one deep and long thrust, saying, "You look pretty with my cock in your mouth." Your eyes widen as your brows come together to form a pathetic, pouty sight as you let out a desperate mewl in response to his words.

Next, he fucks your mouth with vigor, reaching the back of your throat with ease at an unforgiving pace. You sputter around him, choking and gagging the entire time, and his actions have your eyes watering again. The tears escape and run down your face, one at a time, slowly one after the other. When he looks back to you through his hazy mind, he sees this and lets a chuckle escape him. This is only followed by even more harsh thrusts as he throat fucks you with all of his strength. It's got you a drooling mess, embarrassed with a flushed face, all the while your panties are soaked from your needy cunt.

He fucks your mouth a tad more, the last few jolts of his becoming unsteady and losing their pace, his orgasm comes on fast. He shoves his dick down your throat to force the white liquid down, not caring that you're crying and choking. He inhales sharply and exhales harshly as he tries to cover up his jittering hands that still have a firm grip on your head. He groans, almost a growl, as the last of his seed makes its way down your throat.

He pulls himself out and makes you stand with a hand under your arm, and then takes you over to the table at the back of the room. Fuck, you think, that's what it's for.

He doesn't free your hands and you assume he doesn't have any plans to just yet, if at all. Then he undoes your jeans, pulling them down and tossing them away, along with your panties. He bends you over the desk and your face rests against its metal surface, cold on your cheek, as he wastes zero time to swipe his cock through your soaked pussy lips.

You gasp at the feeling the moment he touches you, letting out a soft, "Fuck." as he does, hoping he didn't hear you. You squeeze your eyes shut tight as you know what's about to come next, heading still pounding.

"If I didn't know any better," he starts, "I'd guess that you like this."

"Fuck you." you reply.

"Oh sweetheart," he bends over your body to get his mouth next to your ear, now whispering, "that's what I'm gonna do." He continues to wet his cock through your folds as he stays next to you. "This pussy is mine. Ya got that?" It's not a rhetorical question, and he wants an answer. "I asked: ya got that?"

You shakily reply, "Y-yes..." as he puts just barely the tip in.

"Ghost." he says.

"W-what?" you ask, tears in your eyes again.

He stands straight now. "It's Ghost," he replies, almost calmly, "That's what you can call me when I fuck you."

And then, before you can think of what to say, he's sheathed his length inside of your warm center, right away causing immense pleasure in your body as he brushes past that nerve bundle inside of you. A sharp whine lets itself loose from your lips and he revels in the sound, snickering lightly as he admires your wet warmth.

He begins to screw you with an unrushed pace, taking his time with you, telling you, "You're such a whore, sweetheart. Liking what I'm doin' to ya."

"I'm not a whore," you spit back, "It's you. Ah!" That well placed thrust made you whine out, halfway causing your eyes to roll back. "It's you," you continue, "'cause you can't keep your dick in your pants."

He hunches over your back once more and his hot breath tickles against your ear before he speaks. "But whose pretty little cunt is so fuckin' wet for me?" Then, he reaches a hand to your front and, without warning, he gently strokes your clit. It's so needy for his touch that immediately the action has you writhing against him. His name is on the tip of your tongue and it's making attempts to escape, to spill off of your tongue and past your lips, into the air of the room for him to hear. But you won't say it, you can't say it, and you can't let him gain that satisfaction. Even though he's already got you in all the ways he wants you, you still can't give him that satisfaction.

However, he still plays with your clit, rubbing it in slow, small circles that would get any woman weak in the knees. The sensation jolts through your body, added on top of his cock stretching you out and pleasing you from the inside. Each time his finger strokes over your nub, it causes your knees to buckle and feel weak, only causing you to bump back and further onto the man. Repeating this process has you entirely weak and it's hard to resist the obvious pleasure he's giving you. Difficult to resist crying out his name as he fucks you so good.

You close your eyes again and try to think of literally anything else to get your mind away from the beautiful feelings he's giving you. But nothing works, though, as any second your mind starts to wander, you get brought back to reality with that gorgeous flick to your clit that's pretty much got your mind fried by now.

Your eyes shoot open when he picks up the pace and pounds into you, as well as now applying more pressure to your jewel. He nips and bites your neck and leaves a hot trail of marks. You moan, whine, and gasp as you let it all out. All of it except for his name. Can't do it, won't do it, you tell yourself. He won't win this, but he's got you right where he wants you.

His cock dives deeper into you, somehow, repeatedly pressing against your favorite spot inside, as he continues to work on your clitoris. He still leaves marks on your neck, having placed very few kisses to it and more so licking and biting you.

"Your pussy is mine, sweetheart. All mine."

His tip hits that spot you love and his digits swipe over your clit. It's so well timed and mixed with his words, it has you like putty in his hands, ready to be shaped and used however he wants. He repeats the motion again, coaxing that warm knot in your lower stomach forth. He's unrelenting with your clit, so much so that your legs are shaking uncontrollably as you jut your ass back towards him, only giving him more leeway to use your pussy.

Your walls begin to softly flutter around his member but you fight it off the best you can, biting your bottom lip in the process to fight saying his name, let alone even think of it. But all your brain can come back with is how good he's fucking you and that you should just give in, give him what he wants. The thought of him fucking you even harder, as rough as possible, as you loudly cry out his name over and over has you squelching around him as your arousal leaks onto his cock even more.

It's as if he was just reading your mind, because now, he stands straight and fucks you with as much force as he can. With his free hand on your hip, a tight grip to hold you in place like the good slut you are, he begins to screw your brains out. He's giving that term a meaning right now, and fucking hell, you love it. He lets out powerful grunts behind you as his hips snap to yours, the sound of skin against skin along with his noises filling the room. And don't forget about yourself; Bent over for him like a naughty girl, just asking for him to raw your pussy with how wet you got from sucking him off.

The force of him fucking you has the desk slamming against the wall, a loud clank with each thrust. But there's not a care in the world about it from either of you. Hell, what are you going to do about it anyway? Like he said; Your pussy is his. And, apparently, you are not done until he says you are.

His fingers work overtime on your clit regardless of how over stimulated it is. The way you shake and whimper at each movement has him savoring the moment, wanting to get you closer to your orgasm so he can know how you'll feel around him.

With the most perfectly placed swipe of a finger on your clit that you've ever experienced, combined with a perfectly timed thrust into your aching cunt, you spill your thoughts, finally turning them into words.

"Ghost!" you cry out, simultaneously overwhelmed and upset with yourself that you let him have that victory. "Fuck- Ghost!" He grins, laughing, continuing to assault your pussy. There is, however, one last win that he might not get. Making you orgasm. If you don't give him that, he loses.

Still, you continue to shout his name as if it's the only word you know at the moment. Though, it kind of is. He's got you so dick drunk that all you can do, besides let out pathetic noises, is say his name repeatedly. "Ghost, Ghost, Ghost!" Begging him with no more words than that, "Ghost," a cute mewl or a coo as you say his name. And he throbs at the sound of it, from how you say it to how your pussy tenses up when you say his name.

He doesn't stop any of what he's doing. Playing with your clit to work and win you over. Pounding into your pussy with his rock hard cock, brushing against your favorite spot.

"Ghost!" His name spills from your lips over and over, and you keep it up, unable to stop yourself at this point. It just comes out with each thrust at this point. 

"Atta girl." he praises, unrelenting with his actions. "Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum on my cock for me."

You forget entirely about what you were thinking as he has taken over every aspect of you right now. But it doesn't matter... It feels too damn good.

You give him exactly what he wants, and you remind yourself that he's won you over completely. But you tell yourself that it doesn't matter, to shut up, as the peak of your orgasm takes you away. You huff out heavy breaths with your face against the desk as your walls spasm around the man, coaxing him to cum as well.

You feel fucking incredible as your cunt squeezes him, now milking him dry as he spills his load into you.

"Ghost!" you yell, pleasured, at the feeling.

"Fuckin' hell, sweetheart." He breathes, labored, as he stills himself, too over stimulated to keep going as his cum shoots into you.

When he's spent, he fixes his appearance. He doesn't help you with anything, however; not with getting dressed or with getting you back to the chair.

"Stay there," he tells you, "Only be a moment." He leaves, closing and locking the door behind him.

He approaches the door only a few minutes later, and you're still in the same position, just how he told you. The door doesn't open yet but you hear chatter on the other side.

The door swings open shortly after and you can hear Ghost's footsteps, which are unmistakable by now. They stop and the door clicks closed. The other person follows Ghost by a few steps, stopping in the middle of the room.

The other person's eyes make their way to you, landing on your spent, still wet pussy, and he says in a thick German accent, "What a beautiful sight."

[mermaids-and-robots]

Pocket sized Banshee

[mermaids-and-robots]

Title: 24 Light Years Summary: "I want to be close with you. I want to be intertwined. -- It is both a blessing and a curse to feel things so deeply." Word count: 3,665 Fandom: Destiny 2 Pairing: Xur x Female Reader Warnings/Additional tags: 18+, smut/lemon, vaginal sex, vanilla sex, tentacles, alien/human relationships, swearing, fluff, public sex, gun mention, open ending. Originally posted to AO3 on Jan. 30, 2025. AO3 link

"How may I be of service, Guardian?" Xûr greets as you reach him. "Are you here for my wares?"

His tone is as it always is, his posture still ever askew. He's still the same dark and mysterious being he's always been, and always will be- until The Nine decides otherwise.

He shows you what he has this weekend and tells you about the pieces you seem intrigued about.

"Hmm..." you ponder out loud, looking over his goods one more time. "Unfortunately nothing is catching my attention this weekend."

"Are you sure, Guardian?"

You nod, "Afraid so, Xûr."

You turn to leave but he gently says your name, as if calling out to you. "Y/N." When you turn around, your eyes meet his. He asks, "Would you mind staying for a bit?"

You shrug. "I don't see why not, I'm not busy." You step over to him and sit down on a log nearby. He joins you a second later. "Is there anything on your mind? Or do you just want some company?"

He doesn't answer right away as he thinks, searching for the right words to tell you the real reason why he wants you to stay. "My will is not my own..." he starts with a soft voice, almost saying the words to himself. "My function here is to trade, I know this. Yet..." he pauses for a long moment. "I feel drawn to you, Y/N. I don't know if it's The Nine that wills it, or something else entirely."

"Drawn to me?" you almost laugh as you ask, "What do you mean?" Underneath the dark of his cloak, he has a vague expression of offense at your words, but he brushes them aside and assumes you didn't mean anything by it. "Like a crush? Romantic feelings?" you ask, then continue, "Or simply friendly?"

"There is something within me that wishes to connect," he tells you, "But I'm not sure how... or why. All I know is that... I do."

You nod slightly, interpreting his words.

"You visit me every weekend, a number of times." You nod again, confirming his statement. It's true that you do. You like to keep up with his weekly wares. But, you also like to visit just to see Xûr. He may be a bit quiet and mysterious, but you enjoy being around him.

"Why?" he wonders. "What draws you to me, Y/N? I can sense that it's for more than what I have. My selection doesn't change only but once a week... What is your curiosity for then?"

"Am I not allowed to be friendly?" you jest, avoiding the question.

"I'm not going to listen to your deflections, Guardian." he tells you firmly, "I am an Agent of The Nine; The truth will come to me eventually, even if you don't let it."

"Fine," you give in, a bit annoyed that he knows more than you do, but prods you with questions anyway. "I like being around you. Is that a good enough answer?"

His eyes dart away from your face for a moment, but then focus back on you. "Perhaps..." he answers. "But you're... irritated, Y/N." His senses are keen. Damn it. You roll your eyes. "Is it with me? Or yourself?"

You toss a hand up in mock defeat. "I guess myself," you say with a gesture, "You're too observant, Xûr."

Confirming with a smile in his voice, he says, "That I am." His response makes you laugh a smidge. "Although," he starts, "I enjoy your presence, too. The Nine... they like you, Y/N. I do not know what they want with you. Or, rather, what they want me to want from you. But I'm not one to complain."

Silence overcomes the area are you're both still sat on the log in the forest. It's dark out and the sounds of nature surround you. Nightingales chirp sparsely and frogs croak. The tricke of a stream can be heard down the way and the slight breeze makes the leaves rustle faintly.

You strain through the quiet as you prepare yourself to ask him a personal question. "Xûr?"

He looks back over to you, his gaze breaking from the vegetation in front of you two. "Yes, Y/N?"

"Do you ever get lonely?"

"In what way?"

"Well... any way, I suppose. Just lonely."

He hums softly as he thinks. The weight of your question seeps in. It should be a simple enough thing to answer, a yes or no type of ordeal. But it's deeper than that for Xûr, much more difficult than an easy answer.

"Yes, I do." He takes a deep breath in. "I get lonely in many ways, Guardian. Everyone wants their goods and then are on their way. No one stays to... talk." This is hard for him to vocalize, let alone admit to himself. "You're the only person that stays. For whatever reason, you stay." He glances your way and you swear you can see a hint of a smile flicker from under the darkness of his hood. His glowing eyes break away for a moment, as if he's been caught. "Romantically, however..." he says, a touch exasperated. "I... do not have time for such things. The Nine won't allow it."

You absorb this new information. Your mind brews up another question. "Have you ever felt romance?"

The man chuckles lightly as he answers you, "In a past life a long, long time ago, yes. But," he says with a dismissive wave of his gloved hand, "it's been so long that it doesn't matter."

"Well, maybe not now, but it did at one point."

He agrees with your statement. "But still, I don't... remember..." his voice trails off, but he adds one more thing with an even more hushed voice, "So lonely here..." He looks away.

Your stomach twists into a thousand knots and your heart sinks, feeling like a heavy weight in your feet. Your throat tightens like you're choking on a cry that isn't allowed to come out. Xûr is an isolated being and it tugs at your core. It feels like someone has a knife shoved in your ribs right now. And that's just from hearing how sad Xûr sounds. You can't even begin to imagine how he feels.

"Maybe The Nine will allow you to indulge just once?" you ask, voice sounding small.

He shakes his head, the tendrils on his face swaying gently. "They will not, Y/N," he looks to you, his eyes heavy with sadness, "but I appreciate the sentiment." He wants to reach out and hold your hand, but he tells himself not to. "You may visit me whenever you want to, however. They cannot stop you from doing that..." He says sorrowfully, a powerful weight to his voice. He doesn't feel bad for himself, no. He feels a sense of... ruefulness? Or perhaps it's anger. Maybe even despair. Whichever emotion it is, it's directed towards The Nine. He wants to be himself, whatever that may mean. He wants to be free.

"Y/N," he says delicately, almost like a question. He doesn't know where he's about to go with this, but he knows that he has to try. And he has to try something he's never done before. Fuck it, he thinks as he reaches for your hand, taking it within his gently. His being isn't physically touching yours, not skin-to-skin, but this is the closest he's been to someone else in centuries.

"You... feel nice, Guardian." His fingers carefully trace over your hand. His covered fingertips feel your skin the best they can. His thumb caresses you. "I hope that this is alright, Y/N."

You nod, "Whatever you want, Xûr." You try to sound unaffected by his sweet gesture, but something is brewing within you. It feels like something you've been ignoring.

He mulls over your words, then lets out a half-laugh. "If I took whatever I wanted, Y/N, you'd be in trouble."

You laugh in return. "Oh yeah? You gonna tell The Nine that I tempted you or something?"

His grip becomes a bit tighter and you look at his hand on yours. When you look back up to him, his eyes meet yours. His golden gaze is full of an emotion you haven't seen within them before.

"No," he tells you, "I want you, Y/N. It feels like... you are the one I was sent to find."

It's like all of his walls come down at once and he disregards his orders from The Nine. Or, this could be a direct command from them. Still, he doesn't care which it is. He's going to listen to the feeling, the sensation that's making him feel alive after so many years spent alone.

"I need you, Y/N." He tells you firmly. His hand that's on yours grabs harder, with purpose now, and pulls you closer to him, almost like a demand. Your face is right there in front of his. The short tentacles tickle across your skin and he leans in. He kisses you and it's a tender gesture, the moment feeling long and so short at the same time. It feels like his lips are pressing passionately on yours, but nothing is there as well. You're not kissing nothing but you're not kissing a full being, either. You're kissing a cosmic entity; Millions of stars that collide with a vast darkness. It's the thin line where wake and sleep, life and death meet.

Tendrils caress your face, the tickling having subsided into a tender touch, almost loving in their own way. It's like having a dozen small and caring hands on your cheeks, all giving you their own version of attention. It makes you smile, almost giggling into the kiss. Xûr breathes out heavily, noticing your cute reaction.

Xûr's free hand moves from his lap to your waist. He holds onto you, wanting you nearby and within his grasp. The kiss continues on, your lips moving in unison with his. His hand travels up and he softly cups your face. This is when you notice the stark contrast of everything between you and him.

He sneakily removed his glove at some point. His hand on your cheek is warm and cold, like a hot flash being cooled by ice. His touch is gentle like a summer breeze but clearly in need of a deeper connection.

"I want more than physical touch, Guardian." he tells you, pulling back from the intense kiss. "I want to be close with you. I want to be intertwined." With that, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, his hand still cupping your face. "I do not entirely control my movements, Y/N, but I would like to try something... new."

You exhale slowly, a bit shaky, your eyes closed. Your bodies are so close to one another. It's as if you can feel how deep his lives have run, how ancient his knowledge is, how much he needs someone like you.

"What do you want, Xûr?" you whisper against his lips.

"I don't quite know yet, Guardian. I think that The Nine-"

"Forget what they want, Xûr. What do you desire?" You let out with a sure tone.

He thinks it over for a minute, calculating his feelings. "These inner worlds are very strange," he says, then sees the puzzled look on your face. "The way Earthly beings are, the urges they have... It confuses The Nine. It's hard for me to understand what I want, but I want it nonetheless. It is both a blessing and a curse to feel things so deeply."

A lengthy but comfortable quiet takes over and you let him think. He knows that he wants you, but he's not sure how to communicate it. He's still trying to comprehend the feeling of true desire and lust; such human and intimate sensations and so foreign to him.

"What is this feeling, Guardian? It makes me feel like I have something inside of me... A fluttering of sorts in my stomach. And my heart, it... beats differently when I'm around you," he elaborates.

You gulp and a warm flush covers your cheeks. Xûr just confessed his feelings for you. Although he's not completely aware that's what he's just done. It's cute though, you think. And you have to admit that you feel the same way. You know that you do, and Xûr made some brief mention earlier that he's, at least, mildly aware of this.

"You look taken by surprise, Guardian," he says with a light smile you can't see, his glowing eyes on you. "You were thinking something of a similar nature, were you not?"

You've been caught and suddenly your brave and hard exterior crumbles under his correct observation. You're at a loss for what to say or how to react.

"I've told you what I can. These emotions of mine... I think they're my own, and you're the one to spark them. It's been too long since I've felt something like this. Please, Y/N... Tell me if I've misspoken."

"No, Xûr," you speak quickly but surely, "you haven't. I'm just trying to process everything. It's a lot to take in but it's not a bad thing." You tell him with a gentle smile and a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He shivers at your caring touch.

Next, he does what feels natural and pulls you flush against his chest, both of his hands bare now so that he can actually feel you and appreciate your warmth. He holds you as if you'll leave if he lets go. He radiates an energy that you can't describe. His otherworldly being would be too much for anyone else this intimate with him.

He speaks quietly. "What sort of thing are you?" He's absolutely mesmerized be you, as if you're the cosmic entity here. He closes his eyes and kisses you deeply, passionately, making you both feel like this juncture is coming to an end.

Each kiss only gets more heated, the world around you becoming nothing but a blur. At some point, your armor and most of your clothing was removed. You're lying on the forest floor while off in the distance is the sound of gunfire. Xûr undressed himself in the dark of the night, the fog of everything that's happening and the pleasure building within you making it almost impossible to pay attention to much else.

He climbs on top of you, one hand supporting his weight and the other trailing down your neck to your chest. His tentacles tickle and trace on your body, the enticing sensation of them speckled all across your skin causing goosebumps. The only details you can see on Xûr's face are his eyes and feelers. He has no visible nose or mouth. His body is human like but his form is pitch black. Painting over the darkness of him, though, are sparse patches of what looks like stars; mini galaxies covering his flesh. In between these clusters is the vastness of space. There's other colors on him within these nebula like areas; Faint blues and purples coating his surface as dim white and silver stars seem to twinkle on him. He's absolutely gorgeous. To be inhuman but crave everything they do, capturing the universe on your skin.

His eyes rove down your body to give you the same admiration. He takes in how you feel in his palms and how your eyes darken underneath the forest canopy. How your chest rises and falls with each breath, how he can feel your heartbeat as his hand feathers over your chest. He makes eye contact as he gropes your breast and gives it a gentle squeeze, causing you to softly call out his name.

He leans down and captures your lips in a kiss, moving leisurely against one another. His thumb grazes over your hardening nipple as his tongue dips into your mouth, tasting you for the first time. When he does, he can't help but grind against you, his ethereal cock already hard when it's pressed against your still clothed womanhood. He feels his way down your curves to your panties, hooking his finger under the elastic and pulling them down. You kick them off and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

He swipes his middle finger on your clit and he feels your moisture from the moments leading up to this. You say his name louder, "Xûr...!" back arching off the ground ever so slightly. He makes you lay back down with another kiss, his finger continuously circling on your clit.

"Patience, Guardian." he tells you, voice low but not harsh. "I want this as much as you do. Not rushing this will make it better." You sigh out, clearly needy but obliging anyway. "It's for your happiness, Y/N."

Xûr carries on with kissing you passionately, each one somehow deeper and more heated than the last. His hands tracing over your body sends chills down your spine and distracts you from his hard member now poking at your entrance, begging to be let in. The tip drips with pre-cum, more than ready to feel your warm insides.

You mindlessly wiggle against him and he presses forward. His dick is finally inside of you and he inches it in, little by little, as to not overwhelm you yet. You let out a sigh, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. He feels so damn good and it feels right to have him so intimately. "Oh, God... Xûr." you mewl. In return, he moans softly, calling out your name. "Y/N..." He thrusts slowly, setting a gentle pace to begin with. "You feel divine."

His thick cock slides in and out of your cunt in a leisurely manner. His dark arms, faintly cool against you, hug you closer to him in a protective embrace. He picks up the speed ever so slightly, fucking a bit deeper into your pussy. He groans at the pleasing sensation then rests his head in the crook of your neck. His breathing becomes a bit heavier, breath hot on your skin as his pace quickens once more.

Your hands splay on his back, caressing his cosmic flesh. When his dick hits an electrifying spot inside of you, your nails dig in, each and every time pulling a moan or a grunt from him without fail. He places a shaky hand on your hip with a light grip to keep you in place as he fucks you harder now. Your sounds of pleasure become louder, panting and moaning as he works you over.

"Fuck, Xûr... Xûr!" Your legs tighten on his waist which inevitably pull him closer, his dick hitting against that bundle of nerves inside of you. You almost scream in excitement but cut yourself off, not wanting to make too much noise and possibly alert anyone that may be near enough to hear.

"You're alright, Y/N. I've got you." Xûr reassures you with hushed and gentle words. "Let me hear you, beautiful." He intentionally hits that spot again and it catches you by surprise, but it's a pleasant one regardless. You let out that pleased yelp you were initially holding back and he rewards you with a kiss, as well as another tap to your special spot.

The hand he had on your hip goes up your body to cup your face, while his other travels downwards, settling between your bodies. He fingers your clit in bold circles. In no time, his ministrations and cock buried in your cunt has your body shaking. It's as if it's physically begging him to make you finish. His hands tremble but still hold you tight, still keep on working you closer to that edge.

"Xûr, fuck! I'm-" He cuts you off with a kiss and, now, you can feel his entire body shuddering. "No need for words, Guardian." He wants you to focus on that high you're chasing. No distractions.

The fingertip that's massaging your clit picks up its speed, now rubbing your gem in tight, quick circles. Your walls flutter around his member as your clit become nearer to overstimulated. Your breathing picks up as he continues to slam into you, sure to brush up on that sensitive area within you. You whisper out his name over and over as if it's a prayer, the only word you know right now. Your breath is shallow, nails scratching his back, legs squeezing around him.

"Xûr! Xûr!! Fuck-!" Before you can finish your curse, he's sent you over the edge. A mind blowing orgasm wracks through your already shaking body, leaving you now quivering and moaning loudly within the forest. He gasps and moans as well, ever appreciative of how your body reacted to his actions. He has never witnessed anything this gorgeous in his existence. Your orgasm is enough to push him closer to his quickly, as if it was a signal to his body.

"I... cannot endure long, Y/N." he heavily breathes out. He fucks you with uneven thrusts. His eyes flutter and his arms shake on either side of you, somehow still managing to hold himself steady.

A final, long jolt into your warm center. A strangled word comes from him, "Guardian..." moments before he cums. As he shoots ropes of his ethereal seed into you, your walls squeeze him one more time, and he lets his head lower to relax against you. He places sloppy but tender kisses all over your face and neck, tentacles playing along as well to show you their appreciation.

When his climax subsides, he calmly rests against you. Your hearts beat hard and fast but come to a subtle rate as the high of the moment wears off.

"Xûr," you start, but he knows where this is going. "This is but one end," he says, "I will be here when you return, Y/N."

He's content to stay like this.

[mermaids-and-robots]

how are you gonna be 31 and posting fandom content bro leave it to the teenagers

People 10 and 20 years older than me are writing your favorite fanfics, and drawing your favorite characters. You'd have no fandom without the people you think are 'too old' to have hobbies.

[mermaids-and-robots]

Lush spring mornings

[mermaids-and-robots]

[mermaids-and-robots]

[mermaids-and-robots]

Geometric exploration Wall art

Get your own copy

[mermaids-and-robots]

if there is a screen

ao3 will be seen