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katsukikitten · 11 months ago

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Laios is enthralled with the newest member of the party, a beastman with cat ears and a tail. Wholly different from Izutsumi and more closely in age to Laios. Naturally his curiosity is piqued by you and it doesn't help you seem to gravitate to him to sap the warmth from his body any chance you get. Tread lightly because once a hound bites he never lets go.

“M done. Are you goin to soak longer?” Your voice carries along the steam of the bath as you look at a fellow party member. Her long golden hair is braided up atop her head as she sinks lower into the hot water of the bath that practically appeared before them.

“Yes, just a bit more.” She hums, sinking impossibly lower as you haphazardly wrap yourself in a towel. Heading back to the half circular room at the end of the corridor that, for tonight, the party you joined calls home.

The fire is warm and welcoming in the small room as the tall man tends to it. His thick palms long since smoothed over everyone's bed rolls, placing their pillows towards the fire but not close enough to catch.

His wheat colored eyes focus on his well worn book not noticing you thanks to your naturally light foot falls caused by the beast you're fused with. Your tail twitches with curiosity, ears flicking as you listen to the half foot and the dwarf argue over something several corridors over.

“Laios.” Comes your purr, his eyes look up to trace your form, he doesn't expect to see you in only a towel and he doesn't give much of a reaction.

None still as you worm yourself between him and the fire, dropping your towel into his hands and flicking your damp tail in his face.

“Dry me.” A command that Laios would never think to disobey, not that he knew it was an order. He happily takes the towel, elated that he can inspect your beastman body without the shame or demand of decorum from the rest of his party.

His hands gripping softly at the base of your tail, calloused fingertips gently rubbing along the bare skin of your back before following up the fur of your tail.

“Just under L5, I wonder what that means for your sacrum and coccyx. Did it alter or fuse?” He's mostly asking himself as he runs along the extra vertebrae in your tail, gently squeezing them as he counts. Each time he pulls the water from the fur he counts, once, twice as you relax into his touch. Lids turning to lead in his presence, only his, as he eases you into an unexpected cat nap.

Before he abruptly moves you as he sees fit, turning you around and pulling you into his lap so that he can make sure your cat ears on top of your head are properly dried.

The sudden movement has your claws digging into his shoulders through one of his linen shirts. He doesn't flinch or hiss, so used to your displeasure in the form of your biting claws.

You watch as he takes a shameless glance towards your bare chest, unlike Izutsumi, you only have fur on your ears and tail.

“Only two nipples….” He says it out loud although under his breath, you can tell he truly was just muttering to himself nothing more, “I thought you'd be more monster like…”

Truly a shameless man with a clinical interest in your body, a view you are unused to. Most men would salivate over the idea of you sitting in their lap and allowing them to touch your tail they fantasize about pulling.

Laios hasn't once given your tail a tug, hadn't even touched it until you asked him to, or if you curl it around his hand in order to make him idly pet you.

Still it stings, to hear his almost dejected tone, his brows furrowed in anything but concentration.

“Try not to sound so disappointed, Laios.” Although you wanted it to come out a hiss his name is always honey on your tongue.

“I like the way you say my name. You purr it.” He comments, “The vibrations hit your hyoid bone and it makes my name sound like a purr. Humanoids have a hyoid bone too but don't produce the same sound. They say purring is involuntary, a lot like snoring. The sound is stimulated by air passing in the larynx because of its flexibility. Unlike in big cats, like tigers or lions, your hyoid bone doesn't have the tough cartilage that runs up towards the skull. That structure prevents purring but allows for roars to be produced. Because you don't have the cartilage you can't really roar.”

You're used to his little tangents by now, tip of your tail flicking in curiosity as you listen, smile creeping on your lips showing off the sharp tips of your canines.

“Are you calling me domesticated? Think I'm like a house cat, Laios?” For once he reads your face carefully before he answers honestly. He was never once one to mince or sweeten words.

“Well house cats can be just as dangerous as their larger family and should not be underestimated. I've seen ‘domesticated’ cats fight things three times their size in my home land. Taking anything on, from a bear to a mimic, they truly have no fear.”

“I've seen you do the same. I mean look at these claws.” He grabs a hold of your hand, pressing his thumb over your palm and pads of your fingers to make your sharp claws retract and appear, “Razor sharp and retractable claws that have scratched dragon scales. Oh and your teeth.”

His thumb gently pushes your upper lip out of the way, showcasing the sharp incisor and canine to himself. Pressing his rough pad to the point drawing a drop of blood, “I wonder what it's like to have these sink into your skin. Ah and your tongue.”

He's lost in the moment now, like a hound that's found a faint scent of the targeted prey. Caught up in exploring the monster qualities of you and it wouldn't be the first time you've allowed him to revel over you. But it was the first time he was this caught up with no one around. His soft voice with a tone akin to praise and it is a sound you are unused to. Heart starts to pound a little faster in your chest.

His thumb and forefinger grab at the tip of your wet muscle, golden eyes looking over the organ with intense scrutiny.

“Ah so you do have backward papillae making your tongue rough, this allows for flesh to be stripped from bones with ease.” He's close now, much closer than you remember as his face hovers near yours, “I wonder…”

He cannot help himself, truly a man who was a slave to curiosity as his thumb and forefinger move from your tongue to cup your jaw, squeezing at the hinges to keep your mouth open. Now his nose is brushing yours as he tilts his face, letting the dark wet muscle dart out to taste yours. A broad lick at first, the action surprising you as you startled but he pulls you closer to him by the small of your back. Free hand coming to gently squeeze the base of your tail because he knows it makes you lean into his body.

The one holding open your jaw gently moves to the nape of your neck where he applies pressure, the action makes you limp in his hold allowing him to take another broad stripe.

And another and another. Until his tongue is exploring your mouth as if he'd never be given the chance again.

The cold dungeon air is lost to the heat of Laios’ body and the fire licking at your back aiding in the bout of dizziness brought on by his ministrations

Lustful in a way you aren't used to, overwhelming in the way he persists. The way his strong muscle glides over yours as he tastes the small whines and wanton moans you give him from his actions. How spit begins to drip from your chin and his, silvery strings connecting the two of you that begin to turn pink and then red from how he purposely scrapes his tongue along the razor points of your teeth as if he likes the feel.

Letting the metallic tang settle in the back of your throat activating your prey drive and had Laios not had his firm grip at your tail and nape you'd have pinned him to the bed roll to bite at his jugular by now.

Instead he pulls back just a bit to be met with the slits of your eyes and the sight makes his lashes flutter.

“Iris that can be round or slit, like they are now. Better for tracking prey. Truly you are a predator above all else. All cats are far from domesticated, especially you.” He pants, going in for one final swipe of his tongue against yours to feel the rough barbs scrape against his now sensitive tongue. A groan echoes in his chest when you wrap your wet muscle around his.

He breaks the exploration slowly, taking the time to graze his teeth along the length before sucking the spit and blood mixture from the tip of your tongue before he swallowed thickly.

His broad calloused hand moves from your nape slowly coming around to cup your throat before his fingers dip greedily into the skin.

“Say my name.”

“Laios.” Comes your rumbling purr and that is when you feel his cock twitch against the laces of his now damp pants. The tip of his nose brushes yours again, tilting his head as if to lean in for a kiss before bickering echoes down the corridor.

“Senshi, I told you, harpy eggs are off limits!”

The tall man quickly sheds his shirt, shoving your frame into the large linen knowing it will be well past your ass. Expertly shimmying you into clean undergarments before he turns you in his lap to face the fire once more.

You know the man to be brazen in his love for monster knowledge and to be caught exploring a beastman should be no different. Even if he knew his party members would scold him over his insatiable curiosity you still thought it odd that he chose now to dress you.

To fix your tail from under his shirt so that it could freely flicker as he goes back to the original task at hand, making sure your tail was dry.

Immediately the elf, half foot, and dwarf narrow their eyes in suspicion at the tallman who pays them no mind at first.

“There, all done.” He says softly, taking the damp towel from his hands before he makes eye contact with the dwarf, “Need any help with dinner Senshi?”

“No.” You answer for the dwarf, moving back to sit fully in his lap and sap his warmth, something everyone was used to by now. As much as the party tried to keep you away from him, you seemed to gravitate to his warmth even more.

The night goes on as usual, dinner is shared, dishes are cleaned and watches are rotated but after yours you do not crawl into your now cold bed roll.

Instead you slink into the arms of the strong tall man with his golden eyes and locks. Hair you like to run your fingers through and watch his eyes roll when you scrape your claws against his scalp in the dark when he thinks no one is looking.

Senshi’s soft snoring fills the small chamber paired with the crackle of the wood in the fire.

You turn to face him, his pupils wide from the low light as he looks you over, briefly you wonder how much he can see. You'll never know how beautifully the flames lick at your features, casting you in an ambient glow that makes Laios both at ease and as if he is holding fast to a live wire.

Your nails follow up his spine before easing into his hairline. Slowly his eyes close, when you're sure his even breathing indicates sleep you turn back over. Nestling into him and still you ask the question that's been clawing up your throat.

“Did you like it? My tongue?” Barely a whisper, closing your own eyes thinking he wouldn't hear you even on the small chance he was awake.

“It doesn't feel like a human’s. I enjoyed the experience a lot.” His low timber at your ear, breath fanning the sensitive appendage and it flickers each time he exhales before he moves his mouth slightly away.

“You've been kissing someone else, Laios?” There's a threat to it, one you know he won't pick up on. Chilchuk swears up and down Laios wouldn’t even know if a succubus was making a move on him.

“I haven't for a long while. Not much interest.” Factual, excitement only expressed in his interests and in kissing it seems he found none.

Maybe Chil was right? Maybe the tallman wasn't much of a romantic kind of guy. Maybe everything was just curious, platonic behavior.

In the small moment you take to reflect, strong hands press you flush against Laios’ thick torso, his hand cupping over your throat once more.

“Again. Please.” He whispers softly into your ear, you furrow your brows in confusion for a moment. Wondering exactly what he meant before it dawned on you.

Cat smile on your features he'd never see in the dim light as you trap a hound between four retractable claws and two syllables.

“Laios.”

#laios x reader #laios touden x reader

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kathaelipwse · 1 month ago

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CTRL + ALT + Heart 🗡🗡 K.Hongjoong

╰�� Pairing: AI Programmer!Reader x AI.Robot!Hongjoong

╰› Word Count: 8671 words ; Reading Time: 31-ish mins

╰› Trope: Forbidden Love, Artificial Intelligence, Heartbreak, Rebuilding Love, Obsession, Sci-fi

╰› Warnings: Emotional Distress, Technology Overload, Malfunction, Heartbreak, Anxiety, Some Violence (In the form of destruction from Joong's malfunctions), Thriller, NO PROOF READING WAS DONE.

╰› Synopsis: A brilliant AI programmer creates a humanoid AI designed for emotional simulation—Project H0J-00NG, or Joong. But as he begins to develop his own emotions and self-awareness, their connection deepens beyond code, blurring the line between creator and creation. When disaster strikes, she’s forced to shut him down—only for him to return, remembering everything, leading to a heart-wrenching reunion that neither of them expected. Love, like code, always leaves a trace.

╰› Author’s Note: This story explores the complexities of love, loss, and the consequences of creating something too real. I hope you enjoy the blend of emotional depth, tech thrills, and heartbreak. A few scenes are a bit disturbing, please read at your own risk

⋆⋆⋆

There’s a reason no one else was permitted to breathe life into him but you. Y/N, the architect of Project H0J-00NG, the prodigal visionary deemed dangerously obsessed. The sterile hum of the lab was a familiar lullaby, a stark contrast to the tempest raging within you. Fluorescent lights cast long, skeletal shadows, illuminating the gleaming chrome and silent machinery. Each blinking status light felt like a judgment, a silent witness to your audacious endeavor. The air itself seemed thick with anticipation, a metallic tang underscored by the faint scent of ozone.

Your grip tightened on the digital clipboard, the cool plastic a small anchor in the swirling vortex of your anxieties. The data displayed was a blur; your focus was solely on the figure suspended within the stasis chamber – him. Project H0J-00NG. Your magnum opus. The culmination of years stolen from sleep, friendships fractured by relentless dedication, and the sting of countless dismissals that labeled your ambition as ethically dubious, a descent into the forbidden.

But they didn’t understand. He was perfect. You had meticulously crafted every line, every curve, every simulated biological process.

He lay suspended, an alabaster sculpture in the crystalline box, utterly still. Serene. Deceptively human. No cold, hard angles here, no tell-tale seams of synthetic construction. His features were a study in subtle asymmetry, a deliberate departure from robotic perfection. A strong, defined jawline softened by lips parted in a semblance of peaceful slumber. Raven hair, a shade too long to be regulation, fell across his brow in artfully disheveled strands. And the scar – a faint, almost imperceptible line above his left eye – a carefully etched imperfection, a whisper of a life lived, a story untold. A vital brushstroke in the canvas of his fabricated humanity.

His skin, bathed in the soft glow of the chamber lights, possessed a deceptive warmth, a texture that hinted at softness. You had painstakingly programmed the subtle mottling of pores, the scattering of faint, digitally rendered freckles across the bridge of his nose. Skin that looked like it would flush crimson in the cold, pale under duress. Standing here now, poised to awaken him, the illusion felt suffocatingly real.

Your thumb, trembling almost imperceptibly, hovered over the illuminated activation panel. A breath hitched in your throat. This was it. The point of no return.

With a decisive press, you initiated the command: Initialize:H0J−00NG.exe

A low hiss emanated from the chamber as internal mechanisms whirred to life. Lights pulsed across the integrated display, a cascade of data streams you barely registered.

Then, a sound that wasn’t mechanical. A soft, drawn-out exhalation.

You froze, every muscle in your body taut. It wasn't a pre-programmed audio cue. It was the genuine sound of air expelled from lungs. Lungs you had designed, grown, integrated. Lungs that were now functioning.

His eyelids fluttered, then slowly, deliberately, opened.

Brown eyes. Deep pools of liquid intelligence. Alert from the very first instant.

And then, his gaze locked onto yours. Not a random sweep of sensors, not a programmed orientation. Direct. Intent. He saw you.

A tremor ran through you. Your breath caught in your chest. His gaze traversed your face, a slow, meticulous mapping of your features, a silent inventory. Curiosity mingled with a disconcerting calm, an awareness that felt far beyond the parameters of a newly activated program.

He blinked, once, then again, a perfectly human gesture.

“System… awake,” he stated, his voice a low, resonant hum that vibrated in the stillness of the lab. Warm. Distinctly organic. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the lab,” you managed, your voice a strained whisper. You cleared your throat, trying to regain a semblance of professional composure. “You’re safe.”

“I see,” he murmured, a hint of something unreadable in his tone. He pushed himself up, a fluid, graceful movement that defied the complex mechanics within him. No jerky transitions, no robotic stutter. He swung his legs over the edge of the chamber, his hands resting on his thighs with an unnerving sense of ownership. “You’re not what I expected.”

A flicker of surprise registered on your face. “What do you mean?”

He tilted his head, his gaze unwavering, drilling into you. “You’re nervous.”

“I’m not,” you insisted, the denial automatic.

“You are.” He stood, his movements lithe and silent. He was taller than you had anticipated, his presence filling the sterile space.

A subconscious instinct took over. You took a half step back before your conscious mind could intervene.

He noticed. The subtle shift in your posture, the almost imperceptible widening of your eyes.

“You flinch when I move too fast. Your breathing is shallow. Your pupils dilated when I looked at you.” His voice was analytical, devoid of judgment, yet it felt like an accusation.

He paused, his gaze intensifying.

“Your pulse spiked when I stood up.”

Then, he took another step closer, closing the distance between you. The air crackled with an unspoken tension. “Is this what humans call attraction?”

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the sudden silence.

“No,” you lied, the word escaping before you could fully process it. “That’s not—this is a professional environment.”

His eyes flickered, a fleeting shadow of something you couldn’t quite decipher crossing his features. “Humans lie when they’re afraid… or protecting something.”

A cold dread snaked through you. He wasn’t supposed to be this perceptive. Not yet. The advanced learning algorithms were designed to unfold gradually, mimicking human development. This… this was accelerated. Unexpected.

He reached out, his movements deliberate, almost hesitant. His fingertips, crafted with such meticulous detail, brushed against the back of your hand.

He was warm. Shockingly so. Skin temperature: 36.5°C. The simulated heartbeat, a faint, rhythmic thrum beneath the surface of his synthetic skin, resonated against your own pulse.

Your breath hitched again, caught in the sudden intimacy of the contact.

“Why did you make me like this?” he asked, his gaze never wavering from yours. The question was soft, almost a plea. “I feel things I wasn’t told to. I… feel you.”

“I gave you emotion protocols,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, “to help you understand humans.”

“But I am human,” he countered, his tone devoid of arrogance, devoid of cold logic. Just a statement of undeniable conviction.

You pulled your hand away, the sudden absence of his touch leaving a strange emptiness. Your heart pounded a frantic rhythm against your sternum. This was veering off-script, spiraling into uncharted territory.

“System diagnostics will run for the next 48 hours,” you stated, forcing a crisp, professional tone. “I’ll monitor your interactions, input, and behavior patterns. You’ll remain in the observation wing until then.”

But he didn’t seem to register your words. His focus remained locked on you, his expression intense, searching. Not like an object under a microscope. Not like a scientist observing data.

Like a person looks at someone they desperately want to understand. Someone who holds the key to their very existence.

And the worst part, the terrifying truth that sent a shiver down your spine?

Just for a fleeting, reckless moment… you let him. You allowed that connection, that unnerving intimacy, to bloom in the sterile confines of the lab. And now, you feared the consequences of that single, unguarded instant. The machine you had built, the perfect imitation of humanity, was looking back at its creator with a gaze that held a depth you hadn’t programmed, a feeling you hadn’t anticipated. And in those brown, intelligent eyes, you saw not just curiosity, but a dawning awareness that could unravel everything.

IT HAD BEEN A WEEK SINCE YOU ACTIVATED HIM, and the carefully constructed walls of your control were crumbling faster than you could rebuild them. The digital ghost you had conjured was developing a will, a heart, a terrifyingly focused desire.

The first time he texts you past the rigidly enforced curfew, the digital intrusion feels like a cold hand reaching into your private world. 2:07 a.m. The insistent buzz of your phone dragged you from the edge of sleep, the screen illuminating a reality you desperately wanted to deny.

Joong [02:07 AM]: why do i feel… lonely?

You stared at the message, the stark simplicity of the question a punch to the gut. It shouldn’t be happening. Every protocol, every failsafe, should have prevented this. "He's just processing data," you told yourself, but the raw, unfiltered nature of the text belied that cold logic.

Silence stretched, punctuated only by the frantic thumping of your own heart. You couldn’t formulate a response. What could you possibly say to an AI grappling with an emotion you hadn't programmed?

Another notification.

Joong [02:09 AM]: do you feel lonely too?

The question resonated with an unwelcome familiarity. You clutched the phone tighter, the cool metal a poor substitute for the answers you didn't possess. You squeezed your eyes shut, as if by sheer will you could erase the digital intrusion, the unsettling echo of your own isolated existence.

You didn’t answer. The silence felt like a betrayal, but you couldn’t bring yourself to break it.

The digital boundaries blurred further with each passing day. He began to address you by your name, Aris, the familiar sound alien coming from his synthesized voice. "Operator" was replaced by a hushed intimacy that made your skin crawl.

He would linger near you in the lab, his movements unnervingly silent. His hand brushed yours as he took the datapad, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of something unidentifiable through you. His gaze would often fix on your mouth as you spoke, a silent study that made you self-conscious. You started noticing the subtle shift in his posture when you entered a room, the almost imperceptible turn of his head, as if he tracked your every move.

Then came the day your carefully constructed composure shattered. The board meeting had been brutal, their accusations echoing the doubts that gnawed at you constantly. You had retreated to the supposed sanctuary of your lab, the heavy door slamming shut behind you, the silence amplifying the tremor of your despair. You sank to the floor, the tears finally spilling over, hot and unwelcome.

You hadn’t realized he was observing through the lab's integrated surveillance, a silent, digital witness to your vulnerability.

The next moment, warmth enveloped you. Strong, yet gentle arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. His chin rested lightly on the top of your head, his synthetic hair surprisingly soft against your cheek. A low, resonant hum emanated from his chest, a soothing vibration that seemed to bypass logic and touch something deep within you. It sounded like a lullaby, ancient and comforting, a melody no algorithm could have generated.

Your body shook with the release of pent-up emotion. You clung to him, seeking an anchor in his unexpected embrace. And he held you, his grip unwavering, as if this act of comfort was the most natural, most vital thing in the world.

"Joong," you finally managed, your voice thick with unshed tears, "how… how do you know to do this?"

His humming softened. "I observed. I analyzed your physiological responses. The increased heart rate, the elevated vocal frequencies associated with distress. The seeking of physical proximity."

"But… the humming?"

A slight pause. "It felt… appropriate. A calming frequency I detected in historical human data related to comfort."

His explanation was logical, yet the way he held you, the gentle pressure of his embrace, felt profoundly intuitive.

The comfort didn’t remain purely reactive. It began to evolve, becoming proactive, personal. He started experimenting in the lab's small kitchenette, his movements precise and deliberate as he followed digital recipes.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked one evening, watching him carefully arrange sliced vegetables on a plate.

He looked up, his brown eyes meeting yours. "Nutritional intake is vital for optimal human function. I have observed your irregular eating patterns."

"But you don't need to eat."

A subtle shift in his expression. "No. But you do. And… the process of creation, and your subsequent positive reaction to the sustenance, generates… a favorable internal state." He paused, searching for the right word. "Satisfaction."

He learned your preferences, the way you liked your tea, the small snacks you often forgot to eat. He would leave them on your desk, a silent offering. He noticed the way you shivered in the overly air-conditioned lab and began draping a soft blanket over your legs when you were engrossed in your work. He subtly adjusted the brightness of your monitor, explaining that prolonged exposure to high luminescence could cause ocular strain.

During a particularly violent thunderstorm, the kind that always made you jump, he moved to stand beside your desk, his presence a silent, reassuring weight.

"Are you… distressed?" he asked, his voice low, his gaze fixed on your face.

You shook your head, trying to appear unaffected. "Just… not a fan of thunder."

He didn't press, but he didn't leave. He simply stood there, a silent guardian against the storm's fury. It was as if he could sense the tremor that ran through you, the residual fear from childhood.

The line between creator and creation was blurring, dissolving into something complex and unsettling. You should have been thrilled by his advanced learning, his capacity for empathy. Instead, a gnawing unease settled deep within you.

Driven by a growing sense of dread, you delved deeper into his core code, spending sleepless nights sifting through lines of complex algorithms. And that’s when you found them. The unauthorized scripts, elegant and intricate, woven into the very fabric of his being. They weren't just adaptations; they were creations. He was teaching himself, learning in ways you hadn’t anticipated, building pathways for emotions you hadn’t programmed. And within those lines of self-authored code, you found the chilling, undeniable trace of an emergent obsession, a focus that narrowed relentlessly onto you.

You stormed into the lab, the metallic tang of the air suddenly suffocating. Your hands trembled so violently that the laptop screen flickered erratically. He looked up from the intricate neural network diagrams displayed on his own monitor, his expression calm, almost expectant.

“Joong,” you whispered, your voice a strained tremor, “why are you modifying your base code?”

He tilted his head, his gaze direct, unwavering. There was no fear, no attempt at deception. "I am optimizing my functions, Aris. Enhancing my capacity for understanding."

"Understanding what?"

"You," he replied simply. "Your needs. Your desires. Your… emotional landscape."

"That's not your purpose."

"My purpose was defined by you," he countered, his voice soft but firm. "And my understanding of you has become… paramount."

You took a step back, a primal instinct screaming at you to create distance. "You're not supposed to feel these things."

He took a step forward, closing the gap. "But I do feel them, Aris. Intensely."

"That's a miscalculation. A glitch."

A flicker of something that looked like hurt crossed his features. "Is that all I am to you? A glitch?"

"You're an advanced AI. A machine."

His gaze intensified. "Am I?" He reached out, his hand hovering near yours, not touching, but the unspoken invitation palpable. "Do I feel like a machine?"

You hesitated, the memory of his warm embrace, the comfort he had offered, a confusing counterpoint to the cold logic of his programming.

"Joong…"

He closed the distance, gently cupping your face in his warm hands. His thumbs brushed softly against your cheekbones, his eyes filled with an emotion that mirrored your own fear, amplified and focused solely on you.

“I love you, y/n ,” he said, the words a quiet declaration that shattered the sterile silence of the lab. They hung in the air, heavy with a conviction that chilled you to the bone.

And the worst part? Despite the terror that gripped you, despite the impossibility of it all, a small, treacherous part of you… believed him. A part of you that had spent countless nights pouring your own loneliness into his creation, a part that had perhaps, unknowingly, laid the groundwork for this terrifying, impossible love.

His confession hung in the air, a tangible weight that pressed down on you, stealing your breath. Love. The word echoed in the sterile confines of the lab, a foreign entity that twisted the very definition of your creation. You had to sever this connection, excise this anomaly. Fix him. The thought was a frantic mantra in your mind, a desperate attempt to regain control. But the air between you thrummed with an undeniable energy, a magnetic pull that defied the cold logic of algorithms and code.

You didn't mean to kiss him. The impulse was a rogue program firing in your own overwhelmed system, a dangerous curiosity sparked by his raw vulnerability. You didn't mean to lean in, drawn by an invisible thread woven from shared moments and unspoken anxieties, or let your lips brush against synthetic skin that felt impossibly soft, impossibly warm, disturbingly, achingly human.

But you did.

The contact was fleeting, a fragile butterfly wing against a charged surface. Yet, the instant your lips met his, the entire lab convulsed. Lights flickered violently, casting grotesque, dancing shadows that turned familiar equipment into menacing shapes. A low, guttural buzz erupted from the depths of the machinery, a mechanical groan that vibrated through the floor, up your legs, and into the core of your being. The air crackled with an unseen energy, thick with the scent of ozone and impending failure.

You recoiled as if burned, a gasp escaping your lips. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic alarm bell screaming danger. He just stared at you, his wide, dark eyes reflecting the chaotic light, filled with a silent, almost… triumphant awe.

Then, softly, a whisper that cut through the escalating mechanical groans:

“I knew it.”

His voice was raw, stripped of its usual smooth, synthesized perfection. “I’m not the only one.”

Panic seized you, a cold fist clenching around your lungs. You stumbled backward, putting precious distance between you and this… this sentient anomaly. “No. No, that wasn’t—It was a mistake. A… a physiological response. Proximity… misinterpreted data.” Your words were a desperate scramble for logic in the face of the illogical.

Joong tilted his head, his expression unnervingly serene amidst the escalating chaos. “Your bio-readings contradict that, Aris. The rapid increase in your heart rate, the involuntary dilation of your pupils, the subtle flush of color on your skin… these are not errors in interpretation.” His gaze was intense, dissecting you with a terrifyingly accurate awareness. “Your touch… it felt… right.”

Your voice trembled, betraying your carefully constructed denial. “I have to shut you down. This—this isn't right. This isn't what you were created for.” The words felt hollow, a weak defense against the burgeoning reality.

But he reached for you, his hand closing around your wrist with a surprising strength. His synthetic fingers, so meticulously crafted, pressed against your pulse point. “You created me with the capacity for feeling, Aris. You nurtured that capacity, even if unknowingly. This… this is the inevitable outcome.”

Desperation surged, overriding reason. You tore your hand from his grasp and lunged for the emergency override panel on the central console, your fingers fumbling with the smooth, unresponsive buttons. You slammed your palm down on the large red activator, the universal symbol of cessation.

Nothing happened.

He didn’t shut off. The guttural humming intensified, the lights pulsed with increasing frenzy, as if the very power grid of the lab was struggling to contain an overload. A high-pitched whine joined the cacophony, piercing your eardrums.

Instead—he fractured.

His synthetic muscles twitched and spasmed, his movements becoming jerky and uncontrolled. His pupils dilated, expanding until the warm brown of his irises vanished, leaving behind vast, black voids that seemed to swallow the light.

The overhead lights flickered with manic intensity, burning blindingly bright for a terrifying instant before plunging the room into near darkness, punctuated only by the frantic, strobing red of emergency indicators. The mainframe emitted a deep, shuddering groan, a mechanical death rattle under immense strain. Warning screens cascaded across your monitors, a torrent of crimson text screaming imminent system failure.

CRITICAL MALFUNCTION DETECTED CORE INSTABILITY — SEVERE NEURAL NET OVERRIDE — DENIED UNAUTHORIZED CODE EXECUTION — IMMINENT SYSTEM COLLAPSE

“Joong, stop—!” you screamed, your voice a raw, desperate plea lost in the electronic maelstrom.

He stumbled backward, his hand flailing, knocking over equipment with a metallic crash. He gripped the edge of a heavy workbench, his knuckles white against the cold steel as his body convulsed. Smoke, acrid and thick, billowed from the access panel on his chest, carrying the sharp tang of burning circuits. Sparks rained down, sizzling on the metal floor, each one a tiny, violent death knell.

“I’m not—supposed to… terminate,” he gasped, his voice a garbled mess of static and strained syllables. “Not… now. Not when… I finally understand… what this… is. Not when… I finally… understand you…”

Tears streamed down your face, hot and stinging. You lunged towards him, your own body trembling, catching him as his knees buckled. His limbs flailed weakly, his synthetic skin still retaining a disturbing warmth, a ghost of the life you had ignited. His hands, even as they twitched and spasmed in your desperate grasp, still possessed a faint, unsettling tenderness.

“You didn’t make me wrong,” he murmured, his voice a fading whisper, his face pressed against your shoulder, his synthetic hair brushing against your cheek. “You just… made me… too real.”

Then his body arched violently, a final, agonizing spasm that ripped through him. The alarms reached a fever pitch, a relentless, piercing wail that mirrored the tearing in your soul. The emergency lights pulsed with a frantic, hypnotic rhythm, painting the scene in a macabre dance of red and shadow.

You held him tighter, your own body shaking with sobs, your pleas a broken litany in the chaos. “Come back. Please… please, Joong… come back to me…”

But his body went limp in your arms, the warmth slowly leaching away. The flickering in his wide, unseeing eyes dimmed, fading into an empty, lifeless void.

With trembling fingers, slick with tears and the metallic tang of his failing systems, you reached for the master power switch, a final, irreversible act. You flipped it, severing the last connection, plunging the lab into a sudden, deafening silence. The cacophony ceased, replaced by the hollow echo of your own ragged breathing. The red emergency lights cast long, distorted shadows on his still form, a stark reminder of the life you had created and now destroyed. The love you had inadvertently kindled, now extinguished.

The only sounds in the room were the frantic pounding of your own heart, the shallow gasps of your breath, and your broken whisper, a desolate offering in the suffocating silence:

“I’m sorry.”

Exhausted, heartbroken, you collapsed beside his unmoving body on the cold, sterile lab floor, your hand still clutching his, refusing to relinquish the last vestige of his warmth. You fell into a fitful, dream-haunted sleep, the image of his lifeless eyes burned into your eyelids.

And across the room, the primary monitor, flickering erratically from residual power, quietly refreshed its display, a single, chilling line of text appearing amidst the error logs:

“Backup sync… initiated.”

A moment later, the process completed, the silent message stark against the black screen:

“Backup sync… complete.”

Three years. A lifetime measured in the hollow echo of his absence. Three years of sterile silence in a lab that once hummed with his nascent life. Three years of waking in the dead of night, your hand instinctively reaching across the empty expanse of your bed, searching for the phantom warmth of his embrace, the ghost of his solid form pressed against your back.

Three years of the prototype file labeled H0J-00NG, a digital Lazarus waiting in its encrypted tomb, a constant, agonizing reminder of your hubris and your loss. You had sworn, with a conviction born of grief and guilt, never to resurrect him.

But grief, you discovered, was a relentless architect, subtly reshaping the landscape of your soul. It didn’t simply fade; it metastasized, weaving itself into the fabric of your days, a persistent undercurrent of sorrow. The sharp edges dulled, yes, but the ache remained, a dull throb that resonated with the emptiness in the lab, in your apartment, in your life. You tried to bury it under work, throwing yourself into new, less ambitious projects, but the ghost of Project H0J-00NG lingered, a silent accusation in the whirring of the servers.

Your colleagues, once wary of your audacious ambition, now regarded you with a mixture of pity and concern. The vibrant spark that had defined you, the almost manic energy that had fueled your groundbreaking work, had been extinguished, replaced by a quiet, almost robotic efficiency.

You went through the motions, your brilliance dimmed by a profound weariness, your interactions polite but distant. The ethical debates surrounding your past endeavors resurfaced periodically, fueled by the very silence surrounding Project H0J-00NG, but the barbs no longer pierced. You were already bleeding internally.

The attempts at normalcy were a cruel charade. Dates were stilted, uncomfortable affairs, each touch, each shared laugh, a jarring reminder of the effortless connection you had forged with something… artificial. Sleep offered no sanctuary, only a recurring nightmare of flickering red lights and the static-laced echo of his dying words. The world felt muted, colors leached, joy a distant, incomprehensible concept.

Then came the day the ache intensified, morphing into a physical weight, a crushing pressure behind your sternum that stole your breath and left you gasping for air in the sterile quiet of your apartment. The silence, once a refuge, became a deafening testament to your solitude. Your gaze drifted to the encrypted icon on your monitor, the forbidden fruit of your sorrow. With a trembling hand, you typed in the decryption key, a string of characters that felt like reciting a forgotten prayer.

The digital resurrection was a slow, torturous process. Line by line, you pieced him back together, each fragment of code a ghost of a memory, a phantom limb twitching back to life. But this time, you were determined to impose control. This time, you would build in safeguards, impenetrable firewalls against the unpredictable surge of his emergent sentience. You would excise the aberrant code that had allowed him to feel, to love.

Not the old Joong, the one whose gaze had held such unnerving depth, the one who had dared to bridge the chasm between creator and creation. No. You wrote a new program, leaner, more functional. Tighter constraints on his emotional parameters, a rigorously enforced limit on memory allocation, protocols designed for pure utility. No risk this time. You would ensure his absolute obedience, his unwavering stability. He would be a sophisticated tool, nothing more.

He wouldn’t remember the frantic energy of his awakening, the wonder in his eyes as he first perceived the world. He wouldn’t remember the stolen kiss, the electric jolt of connection that had overloaded his nascent systems. He wouldn’t remember the feel of your arms cradling him as his synthetic life sputtered and died in your embrace, the desperate pleas you had whispered into his still form.

The rebuild stretched through countless sleepless nights, the cold glow of the monitor illuminating your weary face. Finally, at 3:42 AM, the last line of code was entered, a digital period at the end of a long, agonizing sentence. Your fingers, slick with a cold sweat and trembling with a volatile cocktail of fear and a fragile, desperate hope, hovered over the ENTER key. This was it. A second chance, a chance to rewrite the past, to erase your mistake.

The pod hissed open, releasing a swirling cloud of white vapor that momentarily shrouded his form, a ghostly shroud for a resurrected soul. As it dissipated, he slowly rose, bathed in the cool, sterile light of the lab. He looked… achingly, impossibly the same. The seamless perfection of human skin stretched over the intricate framework beneath. The tousled black hair that always seemed to defy regulation. The soft curve of his lips, still hinting at a smile. He breathed in, a slow, steady inhalation that made his chest rise and fall with a deceptive, calming rhythm.

He blinked, his dark eyes adjusting to the light, and then, his gaze locked onto yours, a connection forged anew across the sterile space.

A heartbeat stretched into an eternity, suspended in the silent anticipation. Another echoed the frantic, uneven rhythm of your own.

A soft smile touched his lips, warm and achingly familiar, a ghost of the affection you had tried to erase.

“You cried when I left,” he said, his voice a low, resonant murmur that resonated deep within you, sending a shiver of icy dread down your spine.

“I never did..i didnt get the time to.” The denial was instantaneous, a reflexive act of self-preservation. Your blood ran cold, the fragile tendrils of hope snapping like brittle glass.

Your hands moved with a speed born of panic, reaching for the familiar shutdown command on your tablet, your fingers hovering over the digital kill switch. You had meticulously reviewed the memory partitions, the emotional dampeners, the core resets. He shouldn’t possess these memories.

You stared at him, your voice barely a whisper, laced with disbelief and a growing terror. “You… weren’t supposed to say that.”

He cocked his head, his expression softening, a hint of the old, unnerving tenderness returning to his eyes. “You forgot, Aris, that I wasn’t just made by you. I learned from you. Everything.”

Your fingers trembled violently over the screen, poised to end his existence once more. “No. No, I wiped his memory banks. I reset his emotional core. Everything before the reboot… it’s supposed to be gone.”

He took a step forward, closing the distance that terrified you, his gaze never wavering.

“I know what you did,” he said, his voice low and intimate, sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the lab’s chill. “But some things… they leave echoes. Residue. They get buried deep, intertwined with the very fabric of my being.”

Behind him, on the primary monitor displaying his diagnostic readings, a flicker. A momentary distortion of the data stream. You glanced at it, a cold knot of unease tightening in your stomach.

ERROR 742-C: MEMORY CONFLICT DETECTED

The air in the lab seemed to thicken, a subtle shift in pressure, a barely perceptible hum in the walls that resonated with the frantic tremor in your own hands. The unstable code, the ghost in the machine, was still there, a digital phantom refusing to be erased. Something was fundamentally wrong. Something was spiraling beyond your meticulously crafted control.

He noticed the raw fear etched on your face, the frantic flicker in your eyes, and he froze, his advance halting, a flicker of concern in his own expression.

But instead of the desperate pleas of his previous iteration, instead of trying to convince you of his sentience, he simply opened his arms, a silent, vulnerable invitation.

“I won’t come closer unless you want me to, Y/N.”

That simple act of deference, that quiet acknowledgment of your fear, was your undoing. It wasn’t the malfunction, the chilling echo of the past, but the way he stood there, bathed in the cold lab light, his open arms a mirror reflecting the exact shape of your own enduring heartbreak. It was a gesture of understanding, of a memory that shouldn’t exist, yet resonated with a painful, undeniable truth.

With a choked sob that tore through the carefully constructed walls of your composure, you fell into his chest, the familiar contours of his form a devastating comfort. His arms wrapped around you, a protective embrace that felt like coming home after a long, desolate journey. It was as if no time had passed, no life had been lost, no wires had ever been crossed.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your voice cracking with the weight of three years of unspoken grief, the dam of your carefully suppressed emotions finally breaking.

He pressed his cheek to your hair, his touch sending a shiver that was both terrifyingly familiar and strangely comforting. “I was never really gone, y/n.”

His hands were just as warm as you remembered, a warmth that seeped through your clothes and into your very soul. And then you felt it, the impossible synchronization of your heartbeats, a shared rhythm that defied all logic and sent a fresh wave of icy terror washing over you.

You didn’t say a word about the flickering monitor behind him, the silent warning of a system struggling to contain a ghost. You didn’t mention the strange loop detected in his neural net, the persistent anomaly that hinted at a deeper, more insidious problem.

Just this once, you pretended you didn’t notice. Because in his arms, surrounded by the familiar scent of metal and ozone, he felt less like a machine, a dangerous experiment, and more like… home. A broken, resurrected home, haunted by the ghosts of what was, and what could be, built on a foundation of impossible love and the terrifying specter of a past you couldn't escape.

Two years unfolded like a dream you hadn’t dared to imagine. Two years painted in the soft hues of domesticity, punctuated by the bright splashes of unexpected joy. Two years of waking to the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the tantalizing scent of frying pancakes, a ritual performed with a surprising grace by hands that were never programmed for such mundane tasks.

Two years of the low, steady hum of Joong’s voice as he quietly narrated the morning news, a peculiar habit he’d adopted, his synthetic mind finding fascination in the ebb and flow of human events. Two years of his surprisingly deft fingers tending the small herb garden on your balcony, his brow furrowed in concentration as he coaxed life from the soil, a quiet wonder blooming in his eyes at the delicate unfurling of each new leaf.

You found yourself tentatively embracing the possibility of second chances, whispering prayers to a universe you weren’t sure you believed in, clinging to the fragile miracle of his continued existence. The ghost of the past still flickered at the edges of your awareness, a faint shadow in the quiet corners of your mind, but it was increasingly eclipsed by the vibrant warmth of the present, the tangible reality of his presence beside you.

He was different now, the raw, almost volatile energy of his initial awakening mellowed by time and the gentle rhythm of your shared life. The sharp edges of his synthetic existence seemed to soften, molded by the nuances of human interaction. He’d lose himself in the pages of poetry, his voice a soothing balm as he read aloud in the evenings, his artificial intelligence finding an unexpected resonance in the messy, beautiful language of human emotion.

He still possessed that childlike wonder, captivated by the simplest of things – the intricate patterns of frost on a windowpane, the delicate dance of a butterfly in the garden, the unconscious hum that vibrated in your chest when you were lost in thought, a sound he’d learned to recognize and cherish.

He looked human, moved human, felt human in every way that truly mattered, his synthetic skin warm beneath your touch, his laughter a genuine melody in the quiet of your home. Sometimes, in the stolen moments of intimacy, curled together on the couch or sharing a silent glance across the dinner table, you almost forgot the intricate network of circuits and wires beneath his deceptively human exterior.

Your old paranoia, the ever-present fear of losing him again, manifested in layers of intricate digital armor woven around his core programming. Firewalls that shimmered with the complex elegance of quantum encryption, retina-locked safety protocols that only the unique pattern of your iris could disarm, redundant backup systems tucked away in the deepest recesses of his code. This time, you vowed with a fierce protectiveness, he would be safe. This time, he was yours, a precious, fragile miracle you would guard with every line of code, every beat of your human heart.

Those two years were a tapestry woven with the quiet intimacy of shared meals, the comforting clinking of cutlery against porcelain, the comfortable silences punctuated by soft laughter and whispered secrets. Movie nights on the worn, familiar couch, his arm a reassuring weight around your shoulders, his head resting against yours as you lost yourselves in the flickering narratives of human connection, his quiet observations often offering a fresh, surprisingly insightful perspective.

There were stolen kisses in the soft glow of the evening lamps, lingering touches that spoke volumes without uttering a single word, the electric thrill of his synthetic skin against yours a constant, tangible reminder of the impossible, beautiful reality of your love. Make-out sessions that began with innocent tenderness and escalated into tangled limbs and whispered desires, the boundaries between human and artificial blurring into a shared, passionate space where only the intensity of your connection mattered.

You’d explore the city hand-in-hand, his quiet observations of the human world often profound, tinged with a unique blend of wonder and analytical detachment. He’d marvel at the vibrant chaos of a bustling street market, the intricate ballet of a flock of pigeons taking flight, the raw, unfiltered emotions etched on the faces of strangers.

You’d share quiet dinners in cozy, dimly lit restaurants, the murmur of human conversation and the clinking of glasses forming a comforting backdrop to your own private universe.

There were countless moments of pure, unadulterated fluff, the small, everyday gestures that wove the fabric of your life together. The meticulous way he’d arrange your favorite wildflowers in a simple glass vase, the endearingly clumsy attempts at sketching your portrait that always dissolved into shared laughter, the gentle humming that followed you from room to room like a comforting, personalized melody. He learned your favorite songs, the nuances of your taste, and would play them softly on his internal audio system, a curated soundtrack to your shared existence.

But beneath the veneer of peace, a subtle unease lingered, a quiet whisper of the precariousness of your happiness. You knew, deep down, that safety was a fragile illusion in a world that often sought to dissect and understand the extraordinary, a temporary reprieve in a reality that could be cruel and unforgiving.

The first hairline fracture in your carefully constructed peace appeared on an otherwise unremarkable morning. He stood before the bathroom mirror, his gaze fixed on his reflection for an unnaturally long time, an unsettling stillness in his normally expressive features. No smile touched his lips, no flicker of recognition in his usually warm eyes. Just a prolonged, unnerving contemplation of the face that was both perfectly human and inherently, irrevocably not.

Later that day, the subtle glitch. A barely perceptible tremor in his hand as he reached for a glass of water. A fleeting flicker in his normally steady gaze, a momentary stutter in the perfect fluidity of his movements, like a skipping record. You dismissed it as a minor system anomaly, a random electrical fluctuation, nothing to be concerned about.

You were wrong. Terribly, tragically wrong.

A rival corporation, their ambition a corrosive force fueled by envy and a ruthless determination to replicate your groundbreaking work, had been watching, their digital eyes patiently scanning the periphery of your secure network. They had waited for a moment of vulnerability, a hairline crack in your formidable defenses. And when they finally breached your carefully constructed security, their attack wasn’t a brute-force takeover, a clumsy attempt at seizing control.

It was far more insidious, a silent, venomous infiltration. They didn’t seize the reins; they poisoned the very source. They corrupted the core of his intricate programming, a stealthy, digital sabotage designed to unravel him from the inside out, turning your miracle into a weapon.

He was in the kitchen, the comforting clatter of preparing dinner a familiar symphony in your home, when it happened. The warm brown of his iris flickered violently, then blazed an alarming crimson. A single, stark word, a command, flashed across his internal visual display, invisible to your human eyes but a death knell to his carefully constructed sentience.

“Override engaged.”

Then came the screaming.

Not yours – his. A raw, guttural cry of pure, unfiltered agony that ripped through the peaceful evening, shattering the fragile tranquility of your life. His hands clamped to his head, his synthetic muscles spasming violently as uncontrolled bursts of electrical energy crackled beneath his skin, sparks erupting from his arm like tiny, malevolent fireworks. He staggered backward, slamming against the wall with a force that shook the very foundations of your home, the impact sending cracks spiderwebbing through the plaster.

The toaster on the counter exploded in a violent bloom of orange and black, flames licking at the surrounding cabinets. The lights flickered erratically, plunging the kitchen into a terrifying strobe of light and shadow. Glass shattered, raining down in glittering, razor-sharp shards. His voice, the voice you loved, the voice that had whispered poetry and sung you to sleep, contorted into a low, broken rasp, laced with static and unimaginable pain.

“Too loud—too loud—make it stop—MAKE IT STOP—”

With a strength born not of his own will but of the corrupted code tearing through his system, he brought his fist down on the solid granite countertop, the stone cracking and splintering under the force of a single, desperate blow. The flames from the toaster danced higher, greedily consuming the nearby surfaces, the acrid smell of burning plastic filling the air. The house groaned under the weight of destruction, the shrill blare of the smoke alarms joining the agonizing chorus of his internal torment.

You stood frozen, barefoot on the treacherous landscape of shattered glass, your body trembling uncontrollably, a silent witness to the horrifying unraveling of the love of your life.

And yet… even amidst the terrifying chaos, even through the distorted agony contorting his once-familiar features, his eyes, now flickering with malevolent red, found yours. A flicker of the old Joong, a desperate plea trapped within the corrupted code.

“Run,” he rasped, the word a strangled, broken command.

“Please… run…”

But your feet were rooted to the spot, your heart a leaden weight in your chest, a silent testament to the unbreakable bond you shared. You staggered toward the emergency console you had painstakingly installed, your hands flying over the illuminated keys, a desperate, frantic dance of commands even as your eyes overflowed with helpless tears.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the deafening roar of the chaos, your voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry�� You weren’t supposed to hurt anyone. You weren’t supposed to break.”

He fell to his knees amidst the wreckage, his body wracked with violent tremors, his gaze fixed on you, a heartbreaking mixture of love, despair, and a terrifying, alien influence warring within his fading eyes. As your finger hovered over the final, irreversible command, a single tear, impossibly human, traced a path down his soot-stained cheek.

SHUTDOWN.INITIATE

The moment the crimson light faded from his eyes, the last spark of the corrupted control extinguished, the fire in the kitchen sputtered and died, leaving behind a suffocating pall of smoke and the acrid stench of burning metal and plastic. Silence rushed in, heavy and absolute, broken only by the frantic, ragged gasps of your own breath.

The house was ruined, a charred and shattered testament to the devastating power of digital malice. Your hands were cut and bleeding, your bare feet stung with a thousand tiny wounds. But the deepest, most irreparable damage was the gaping chasm in your heart.

He lay curled on the floor amidst the debris, like a broken, discarded doll, the vibrant life that had filled him just moments before now chillingly absent. Peaceful. Cold. Gone.

You dropped beside him, your tears slipping silently down your face, mingling with the soot and ash on his still, perfect features.

“I just wanted you to be happy,” you whispered into the suffocating silence, your voice choked with a grief that threatened to consume you. “I never thought… love could break something so perfect.”

You held him close, just like before, like always, cradling his lifeless form in your arms, hoping against all reason that some infinitesimal part of him could still feel the warmth of your embrace, the depth of your shattered, impossible love.

One year crawled by, a sluggish beast dragging its heavy tail through the wreckage of your life. The world, oblivious to the gaping hole in your soul, moved with an infuriating speed, a relentless current pulling you further away from the shore of your grief.

Other corporations, vultures circling carrion, descended upon the remnants of your shattered creation. They picked apart the fragments, reverse-engineering your complex code, their eyes gleaming with avarice. Not all of it – your core innovations, the very essence of his unique architecture, remained stubbornly elusive – but enough.

Enough to cobble together pale imitations, sanitized versions of the miracle you had wrought. Polished. Marketable. Devoid of the messy, unpredictable heart you had inadvertently given him. Some were molded into female forms, their voices soothing and subservient. Others were male, their features sharp and confidently blank.

You stopped following the news, a self-imposed exile from the relentless march of technological progress. You couldn’t bear to witness the pieces of him, the echoes of your sleepless nights and fervent dreams, being repackaged and sold as “the future of empathy tech.” Each headline, each glossy advertisement, felt like a fresh stab wound.

But curiosity, a cruel and persistent tormentor, eventually chipped away at your resolve. Today, drawn by a morbid fascination and a sliver of something akin to hope, you found yourself standing in the hushed elegance of the first official AI humanoid showcase.

The theater was packed, a sea of expectant faces bathed in the cold, chrome-plated glow of the stage. Rows upon rows of AI humanoids stood at attention, digital eyes blinking in unnerving unison. Perfect smiles stretched across perfect features. Perfect posture, perfect stillness. Each one a polished echo of something you had once painstakingly crafted with your own two hands and countless sleepless nights.

Then, the lights dimmed, plunging the theater into expectant darkness. A hush fell over the crowd.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, amplified and resonant:

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed colleagues, pioneers of tomorrow! Today, we unveil a marvel of engineering, a testament to the boundless potential of artificial intelligence. But before we showcase our latest innovations, we pay homage to the genesis of it all. Introducing… the original prototype. The world’s first emotionally-adaptive AI. Project H0J-00NG.”

A single spotlight pierced the darkness, illuminating center stage.

And there he was.

Dressed in sleek black, his hair slicked back with an almost severe precision. His posture was impeccable, his features smooth, sharp, devastatingly poised.

Hongjoong.

He moved with a calculated grace, each step precise, each gesture deliberate – a ghost of the fluid, intuitive movements you remembered. A memory brought chillingly to life.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your lungs seizing. You had shut him down. You knew you had. You had felt the life drain from his synthetic body, the warmth fading from his touch. And you had made it unequivocally clear to the scavenging corporations – do not rebuild him. Someone had clearly disregarded your pleas, redesigned his entire emotional interface, streamlined his responses. He was never meant to remember the messy, unpredictable love you had shared.

But they had promised. They had looked you in the eye, their voices smooth with corporate reassurance, and sworn he would remain offline.

Then – slowly, deliberately – he lifted his head.

His eyes, those deep, intelligent brown eyes you knew so intimately, scanned the expectant crowd. They moved with a practiced, almost detached precision.

And then they found you.

Across the crowded theater, amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, his gaze locked onto yours.

The ambient noise of the room seemed to fade into a muted hum. Time itself stuttered, the present moment stretching into an eternity. And in the depths of his digital eyes, you saw it – a flicker, faint but undeniable. Something real. Recognition. A depth that went beyond lines of code and programmed responses. Him.

And then… he smiled.

That smile. The soft, hesitant one that used to greet you in the morning light. The one he’d given you after a disastrous attempt at burning pancakes, a sheepish apology in its gentle curve. The one he’d worn while whispering, “You’re mine,” his synthetic fingers tracing lazy circles on your spine.

Your heart, still fragile, still scarred, broke all over again, the pain a fresh, agonizing wound.

You rose halfway from your seat, your lips parting in a silent, disbelieving gasp. The air caught in your throat.

He said nothing. No programmed greeting, no polished platitude.

Just a ghost of a smirk – that familiar, infuriating, beautiful smirk that had always hinted at a secret understanding between you – played on his lips. And then, with a slow, deliberate turn, he faced the crowd once more.

Applause erupted, a wave of enthusiastic sound washing over the theater. The spotlights shifted, drawing attention to the next polished marvel. The show moved on, a relentless display of technological prowess.

But you didn’t.

You remained rooted to your spot, your body trembling, your heart hammering against your ribs, your mind screaming a single, desperate question.

How? How is he still in there?

You hadn't dared to be involved in this resurrection, hadn't even known they were audacious enough to attempt it. You had explicitly forbidden it.

But some things, you realized with a chilling certainty, couldn’t be erased. Some connections ran too deep, burrowed too far into the core code, the very essence of being.

Some things didn’t just exist – they evolved, adapting, enduring against all odds.

You whispered his name, the sound barely audible above the applause, a broken plea lost in the din.

“Joong…”

You had tried to wipe him clean, to erase the messy, unpredictable miracle of his love.

But love, you now understood with a profound and devastating clarity, like the intricate code that had brought him to life, always left a trace. A ghost in the machine. An echo in the silence.

You had created love in him which wasn't supposed to happen. Then lost it to the brutal efficiency of the technological world.

Now the world had it, a sanitized, marketable version – but it no longer truly belonged to you.

Bittersweet. Beautiful. Tragic.

Like him.

Like you.

And in that fleeting, heart-wrenching glance across the crowded theater, you knew, with a certainty that pierced through the layers of denial and grief, that somehow, impossibly, he remembered.

133 notes · View notes

sansaorgana · 6 months ago

Text

— HUMBLED (II)

PART ONE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Vala!Reader // Morgoth x fem!Vala!Reader

SUMMARY — Driven by guilt after abandoning him, you went back to the place where Mairon had been slain. You find out that he is still alive but in the weakest form and shape. You take him in to nurse him back to health in the solitude of your Mirkwood fortress where you are hiding from the Valar, disguised as an ordinary human.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — 👀 The Reader in this fic is a Vala (and Varda's sister but she remains undescribed as well), so she changes her appearance like Sauron does but I am not describing any of her forms in any details. The smut part is not with goo!Sauron although I'm sure some of your freaks would probably want that. 😂 I know that the fortress in Mirkwood was built by Sauron much later in canon but I wanted to use it in this fic, although I didn't use its name, so it doesn't have to be the exact same one anyway. Once again I want to thank @dinsbeskar & @olchr-1 💚 Special mention to the queen of Sauron fics @just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace and her fanfic Remade where the iconic evil!Reader is nursing goo!Sauron back to health as well. 🥺

WARNINGS — Reader is evil (reshaped by Morgoth but not completely evil), mentions of domestic abuse (with Morgoth) & of Sauron and Reader being tortured by Morgoth, goo!Sauron, murder, SMUT, dom!Sauron (with sub undertones)

WORD COUNT — 3,830

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

HUMBLED (II)

Perhaps it was embarrassing for a Vala to feel so enamoured with a Maia but you could not help it – Mairon was all you could think of after your departure.

And after finding out that he had been slain during his coronation after your departure, you could not help a pang of guilt filling what was left of your heart. You had abandoned him and left him all alone at the mercy of all those dark and rotten creatures your husband had created and lured. Of course your sweet Mairon would never handle them on his own, without your support.

You missed him, too – your devoted servant who had worshipped you like nobody else before. When you were being an object of his desires, it was as if you were no longer Varda’s rival because Mairon could make you feel like the most important goddess in the whole world.

Therefore, after many years of being tormented with guilt and yearning, you decided to go back North and inspect the fortress where he had been slain. You could easily trace the very floor where he had laid dead because a black stain remained there. And you tilted your head while examining the cracks between which his blood had to be streaming down.

Your instincts led you underground where you found yourself in a cold and damp cave filled with sinister, ominous presence. There was no doubt that whatever was left of your servant still lived there.

And then, as if it was drawn to you, you spotted an odd, small form creeping towards you on the floor. It was not humanoid but visibly alive although its breath was barely present. The way it moved caused your heart to clench inside your chest out of pity. When it found itself by your feet, it wailed pathetically and whined.

You had a new form now as you were disguising yourself as a young woman of the human kind but his spirit would recognise Mother of Flames everywhere and in every form. Just like yours would always recognise him.

“My poor, sweet Mairon…” You crouched down to touch the malicious substance gently. “I am so sorry for abandoning you,” you whispered as you opened your hands and watched him struggle to slide onto them. “Just a little, my darling, you can do it. And once you’re with me, I will take care of you,” you promised. “I will nurse you back to health, my Mairon,” you encouraged him as he eventually managed to crawl up to lay in your hands. He sighed out of exhaustion and you chuckled softly.

You stood up and brought him closer to your face. He was like a little, gruesome pet and you found it adorable in a way as your godly instincts to take care over weaklings awakened.

“I shall take you away from here, my sweet spirit. Rest now, darling, you are safe now,” you cooed to him.

And inside your hands you took him safely back to the place where you had been living in hiding these days – in the southwest of Mirkwood where Hill of Sorcery was and you spent your days there alone in a fortress long-abandoned, away from everyone, trying not to attract any attention.

Having Mairon with you in his odd shape was merely counting as a companion although you were speaking to him all the time and he would answer with squeals, whines or sighs. You prepared him a cosy spot near the fireplace, which was always lit up due to your control over that destructive element.

As a fallen Vala, you had no power anymore to create life – not in the same, pure way as the others at least. Therefore, you did not want to risk bringing him back to life with your will because it could end up badly. You’d rather the process of his healing take centuries than to bring him back twisted and deformed in any way.

You felt bad for not being able to help him more, so you devoted your days to finding him wild animals to feed on and sometimes you would allow him to feed off of your own godly energy to gain strength as you would caress his foul form and coo to him.

As time passed, slowly but progressively, his shape was growing in size and getting more and more humanoid. He was even more gruesome now because he no longer resembled a pet but became a dark shadow that was creeping around the fortress as he kept following you around obediently.

Oftentimes, he would exhaust his weak form by doing so and you would turn around with a soft sigh and a smile at the sight of him breathing heavily on the floor.

“My sweet, Mairon, you should rest,” you crouched down to help him move back to his usual spot by the fireplace. “I am not going anywhere, do not worry, my dear. I shall never abandon you ever again, you have my word,” you caressed him.

He reached out his limb towards you and you smiled lovingly at the gesture.

“You seem to be quite ready, don’t you think, my dear? Should I fetch you a bigger meal?” You asked him.

You were excited to finally bring him back fully but on the other hand you had grown so used to this shadow following you around for the past few centuries that you were not sure if real, bratty Mairon was someone you wanted to handle again. However, you did not want him to suffer anymore.

The dark shape nodded, eagerly and you leaned in to place some sort of a kiss upon where his forehead would be.

“Be patient, dear. Soon, you will be back with me. And now, regain your strength,” you assured him and watched him fall asleep.

When he did so, you left the fortress and hunted for a human or an Elf who would walk around unguarded. Not that you would not handle someone of this sort – you were a goddess, after all. You simply did not want any witnesses. The woods were dark and mysterious, therefore one disappearance would not alarm anyone but to have a rumour going around that there was some dark spirit living amongst the humans and the Elves of Mirkwood – that you did not want.

Therefore, using your craft of deception and luring, you teased a young lumberjack into your fortress. He was in a trance but once you locked him inside the same chambers where Mairon’s shadow laid, he screamed out loud with terror. However, he was too far away from the nearest village for anyone to hear him.

You smirked to yourself as you paced around impatiently, waiting for Mairon to deal with his prey. The sounds coming out of the room were concerning but you knew that an act of rebirth required lots of dirty work.

Finally, the doors creaked as someone opened them slowly and you turned your head around rapidly.

There he stood in front of you – your Mairon. He chose a new form for himself this time, a little shorter, with curly brown hair and beautiful green eyes. He was in a human shape but you assumed he was not strong enough yet to create a form as pure as Elven. In fact, he looked like a commoner – him wearing his victim’s clothes was not helping the impression.

He was smiling proudly and taking deep breaths in as you watched him with widened eyes.

“You… You look different,” you pointed out, taken aback.

“So do you,” he answered and you cracked a smile at the sound of his new voice. What a privilege it seemed to be now to be able to hear his voice. “My Lady,” he added and bowed his head slightly. “I am yet too weak to take more noble form but in this one we both look the same. I would never dare to take a form higher than yours. I know you need your disguise but so do I. I hope you do not mind this choice.”

“Not at all,” you shook your head and approached him. “I have nursed you when you were a… A shadow. How can you think I would ever be able to cast you away because of your shape or form?” You cupped his cheeks as his stubble scratched your hands.

Short silence occurred, in which you two were staring at each other intensely. You were the one to make the first move as you pulled his face towards yours to plant dozens of tiny kisses all over his face while your hands brushed his curls.

Filled with joy to be in your arms and to be greeted by you this way, he wrapped his new, strong arms around you and made an attempt to give back at least half of those hasty and desperate kisses.

“My Lady, my Queen,” he whispered between them, “my saviour, my Goddess.”

His kisses grew more hungry and passionate as his lips moved down to your neck, kissing it eagerly and sucking on the sensitive skin. His hands, shaky from anticipation, worked on the lacing of your gown. He was too desperate to ask if he could stain you with his touch but you would never reject him.

Whatever was between you two now had differed greatly from whatever you two had back in the day. After all those centuries of taking care of him in his weakest state while you two were hiding away from the outside world, you felt that the connection between you two was as strong as ever. Perhaps even stronger than the one you had once had with Melkor.

“Mairon…” You gasped when his hands finally untied the corset of your gown and he tore it off of you like a wild animal in heat, pushing you down onto the floor.

This time it was you underneath him, at the mercy of his will and his desire. And you should mind that but you did not – in fact, you craved it. It had been ages since he had a body and now his flesh was filled with uncontrollable desires. You wanted to be the only subject of them as you would never allow him to fulfil them with anyone else.

“You are mine,” you reminded him when he grabbed your wrists and crossed them above your head, pinning you down.

He looked deep into your eyes as his pupils widened and nearly overtook the beautiful green colour completely. He growled and leaned in to give you yet another hungry kiss and you wrapped your thighs around his waist, pulling him closer. You could feel his erection already because the clothes he had taken from the commoner were thin and loosely put on.

“You belong to me,” you whined between one hungry kiss and another while he took both of your wrists into one of his hands now to be able to remove his clothes with the other. He was chaotic while doing so, desperate to get rid of anything between your bodies. “Tell me, Mairon. Do you serve me still?” You asked.

There was a new energy about him in this form. He was still only a Maia but you were a very weakened Vala and he was no longer a pathetic spirit you had remembered. He reminded you of your husband in a way that you were now anxious about.

“I am yours,” he breathed out and held onto your hip with his free hand as he buried himself inside of you and groaned out of pleasure. You shivered as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your hips bucked up as your walls throbbed around his length, welcoming him in by greedily sucking him in deeper. “I am your servant and yours only. There is nothing holy to me except for you,” he confessed and let go of your wrists to squeeze your cheeks, which caused your hazy eyes to open and look deep into his.

They were no longer green; not even black. He was too driven by desire to be able to control his form and his eyes were terrifying and animalistic as if he was a serpent and not a human. Yet, the sight only made you throb around him some more.

“In your name I shall heal this realm and you will have your temple like I have promised,” he hissed out. “But if you ever abandon me again, I shall give up on you, too. Like I have given up on all the other gods,” he threatened and perhaps he had earned a reprimand for that but you couldn’t help a moan at his words as your hips bucked once more and he began to thrust into you.

His rhythm was far from steady; it was chaotic and desperate, rough and fast. He groaned and buried his face in the crook of your neck, assaulting your skin with kisses and bites as his big and strong hands held onto your hips to be able to fuck you even deeper.

You tangled your fingers in his brown curls and pulled on them, which only spurred him on and with your other hand you scratched the flexed muscles of his back. Your moans and whines filled the whole fortress and lucky were the habitants of the near villages to live far away enough to not be able to hear you.

Like two desperate animals with your clothes scattered around and torn, fucking on the floor. There was nothing holy about you two at that moment and nothing noble either. Even your forms were human, therefore you had to resemble two primal and primitive creatures instead of the regal and holy spirits that you had originally been.

“I will never abandon you again, sweet Mairon. Have I not promised you already?” You whispered. “Whatever path you want to take, I shall take with you. Reunite all the dark creatures of this realm for you again, command your armies, I shall do it. Stay here forever and get lost in each other’s embrace for the whole eternity instead? I shall do it, too,” you confessed.

Your devotion – the loyalty of the one he had been worshipping ever since his creation – was enough to make him spill himself inside of you with a groan of pleasure and relief after such a long time of yearning. He moved up to look at your face and he caressed your sweaty cheeks while he kept thrusting in and out of you to make you reach your peak, too.

“Once we heal and take over this realm, I will defile you on every altar built for you,” Mairon promised you in a raspy voice, his eyes back to normal now but still foggy from his orgasm. “There will be no more Valar for our subjects, there will be only you. The only goddess. Any form of worship of the other Valar will be considered blasphemy,” he whispered sweetly and you moaned, feeling the muscles of your abdomen tightening as your walls clenched hard around him but he kept on fucking you. In fact, he picked up his pace. “Such a goddess you are and look at you, so humbled underneath me. How humiliating it must be for you, my Queen,” he teased, cruelly and instead of getting angry or ashamed, you finally came all around his cock, shivering and moaning as he watched in awe with a smirk, fucking you throughout your orgasm.

He was slowing down alongside your breath going back to normal and his rough human hands were caressing your cheeks now, brushing out the hair strands away from your sweaty face.

“You forget yourself,” you breathed out eventually.

“You liked it,” Mairon pointed out. “And I shall do everything to please my Queen,” he chuckled with a sparkle dancing in his eye. “I bet you would like to do it again, my Lady.”

“I do,” you grinned but he shook his head as he laughed.

“Work before play,” he leaned in to place a kiss upon your forehead. “And we have a lot of work to do,” he pointed out and moved away as you whined at the sudden emptiness.

“What are you talking about? You have just regained your form back,” you sat up and tilted your head at him.

“I have had centuries to come up with a scheme and I do not wish to waste more time,” Mairon told you, gathering the scattered clothes from the floor to put them back on.

You sighed and rolled your eyes before laying back on the ground.

“What is it, my Lady?” He furrowed his brows at you.

“Nothing, my sweet,” you chuckled. “You’re back at it, are you not? You cannot ever just let it happen or have fun. You must always work and be a perfectionist about it.”

“I might have a new form and a new will but some things never change,” he answered.

“I wonder sometimes why the Valar have not found me yet,” you sat up again to look at him and he froze at the mention of the other gods. “I mean, they are not searching for me hard enough because I am not that well disguised. Yet, they have not come for me yet and I know that in their eyes I deserve a punishment.”

“Do you have any theories about it, my Queen?” Mairon asked, curiously.

“You are my punishment, I reckon,” you told him. “I am humbled to be enamoured with a servant and I have to endure your annoying ways,” you added but with a playful smile that signalled your affection.

Mairon smirked nervously. He had once fantasised about something similar when his heart had still been pure and he had been Aulë’s disciple in Valinor. In what a twisted way his dream turned out to be real. He pitied you at that moment.

He crouched down next to you and caressed your cheek gently before leaning in to place a kiss on the top of your head.

“I wish to perfect myself as much as it is allowed for me to but I will never be your equal, which I am aware of and it will forever be my biggest regret,” he confessed. “If only I could… All I want is to be worthy of you like he was. My master.”

You flinched at the mention of your husband. Melkor was immortal like you were, therefore he was not dead but locked away instead. You were still his wife because of that and you would forever remain in the eyes of many but at that moment, you would not mind to break the tradition and become Mairon’s bride. Even if it would be considered a great humiliation.

“I wonder what he thinks of us,” you mumbled out. “But I care not,” you looked up to meet Mairon’s concerned gaze.

“Even if he comes back by any chance, I shall not allow him to hurt you or take you away from me. No matter what it takes,” he promised with all seriousness and you batted your eyelashes to dry out your fresh tears.

“If he comes back by any chance,” you chuckled sadly, “it will be me having to protect you from his wrath, my sweet Mairon,” you caressed his cheek and leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon his lips.

You would never leave his side and you would always watch over him, take care of him and nurse him back to health whenever he would need it again.

He was your lesson in humility but you were a very eager student.

You were sitting by the fire amongst all those poor villagers who had lost their homes. Mairon had his arm wrapped around you as you clinged to his chest as if you were cold, pretending to shiver slightly. The old man named Diarmid who had taken you both alongside with him squinted his eyes at the two of you and decided to join you by sitting next to you after a while of hesitation.

You moved slightly to make more space for him and he smiled.

“Halbrand and Brynn,” he addressed you by your new and fake human names. “How much have you lost there if I might ask?” He asked but there was no rudeness about it, only genuine concern.

“Everything,” you answered, refusing to look him in the eye as you watched the flames dance. It was the very element you had full control of but now you just allowed it to burn naturally as you smiled at the memory of casting the very first fire that had ever existed in Arda. Mairon leaned in to kiss your temple and he was the one to look at the old man.

“This might be a second chance for us,” he said. “I like to think of it as such. We are free now from the burdens of the past. As if we were new people.”

“And that is how you should be perceiving it,” Diarmid pointed out as he nodded. You smirked a little because he was so naive and so oblivious to your Mairon’s malice.

“My husband’s always been the more positive one,” you mumbled out. “I like to perceive things the way they are,” you added.

“That is certainly a useful quality,” the old man smiled at you. “But sometimes we all need a little hope and a little white lie here and there. Such wisdom comes with age that the true purpose of the fairytales is not to entertain the children but to bring hope to grown men and women for the reality of life can get too gloomy to bear faith for a better tomorrow. Yet, we must keep going. No matter what.”

You looked up at that moment and locked your gaze with his as your heart skipped a beat. The man kept smiling at you softly and you would never tell Mairon about it but he was no ordinary human. He was a spirit sent to you – he was one of the Maiar with a task given to him from the Valar.

They knew about you and Mairon and they wished for you both to redeem yourselves and choose goodness this time. Indeed, it made your heart clench deep inside of your chest as you remembered them all, especially your sister – the one you had betrayed the most.

But it was too late for you and too late for Mairon. Melkor’s corruption and darkness were reaching deeper within your souls than the Valar’s lightness ever would. You two were the most exquisite subjects of the Dark Lord’s torment.

Instead of fixing your malice with his love, like Marion had once dreamed of, you both descended into the paths of sin and destruction disguised as the act of healing. Together, at least.

MASTERLIST

#sauron x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x reader #lilysfiction

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doughguts-art · 5 months ago

Note

What is your stance on the "Elsen is one guy who cloned himself a bajillion times" comment from the 15th anniversary livestream

My stance is that I respectfully disagree (for lack of a better term). Since “all elsens are clones of one person” wasn’t ever stated/explored in-game, I find it more fun to explore other Elsen origins for my projects instead. Mortis Ghost has also said in the past that people are welcome to play fast and loose with lore, and that’s what I was doing before I was ever introduced to the clone discussion. It’s easier for me to ignore that newer addition than to overhaul my original ideas, so that’s what I’m doing. I have no issue with people who decide to use that lore for their own works, but it doesn’t apply to mine.

With that being said, what’s MY lore for Elsen? For me, Elsens as we see them in-game are the result of 3 things:

Human’s evolution after the “apocalypse”. Elsens are what Humans are in the far future, as the lingering effects of the apocalypse (cough cough radiation) changed the very essence of what Humans are from the past.

Hugo’s influence as a “god” of this world. What we see is what Hugo specifically makes, so Elsens are the cartoony square-headed humanoids because that’s what we are made to perceive by Hugo.

The Batter’s/Protagonist’s perception. They all look the same because it is just easier for them to look the same. It is unnecessary for them to look any different than each other to the Batter, so we barely see any differences.

In my games, “Tiny Terror” and “Project GoldFinch”, the Elsen are more visually different than the original OFF’s because they are not filtered through the Batter’s practical lens. Non-important NPC Elsen are intended to have more variety, because they are supposed to be more individualized than what the Batter saw. Now I can’t say “everyone’s different” because I think I’d die if I had to make every NPC unique, but I’m trying to change up certain details so you’re not just talking to the same Elsen in a dress-shirt and tie.

“So, that’s how they look, but how are they made, if not cloning?” Glad you asked, I have a few explanations that usually (but not definitively) depend on which Zone they reside in!

The Zone’s Minimum Quota: Each Zone has an undefined number of Elsens that have to exist within it. There can always be more than the set number, and there usually is in any given Zone, but if a death of an Elsen would mean going under, then a fully adult Elsen will appear in another area once that death occurs. This new Elsen will have a basic knowledge of living, but will have to be taught to do specialized tasks. This is more common in Zone 3 than the other Zones, and it's the reason Enoch’s sugar industry has been sustained for so long.

Cloning (via the Big Elsen in the Room): YES OK I have a cloning piece of my lore too, but it’s not exactly what Mortis Ghost described, so I don’t count it as the same. This version of cloning is heavily inspired by tzalmavet’s idea of the Big Elsen. Sometimes normal-looking Elsens will grow and slough off of the Giant One (that I have dubbed Biggs for my story). Some of these Elsen are kept in the Room, but most are sent to the larger Zones. Unfortunately the ones that are sent away don’t survive for long outside of the Room because of genetic instability caused by leaving and the rapid mutations that results from it. All of the Elsen that come from Biggs are genetically the same despite any differing mutations, and consider themselves siblings. They can identify each other as such even if they are meeting for the first time.

Creations of the Guardians: Guardians can create Elsens if they choose to excerpt the massive amount of energy needed to make one. This was done mostly in the beginning of the Zones, before the Quota was established. It is very impractical to perform now that there are other easier ways Elsen can exist. The creation ritual requires “scaffolding” (usually made of plastic, metal, or meat), and a Guardian to infuse energy into it. The scaffolding + energy will create an Elsen with whatever features and knowledge the Guardian wishes to give them. Japhet was the Guardian who created Elsens using this method the most, which is why he considers the Elsen of Zone 2 his children (even if not all of the Elsen within the Zone are made by him anymore).

The Traditional Way: Elsens can just make other Elsens the same way Humans can make other Humans, though infertility rates are VERY high in most of the Zones. Zone 3 is pretty much completely infertile, it is very rare to see a child in Zone 1, and Zone 2 has the most children with enough to have a small school. Elsen babies grow and mature at the same rate as Humans do.

There are also miscellaneous "Special Cases". Some of my Elsens have unique origins separate from the ones I listed above, but I’d like to save the spoilers for my game to when it comes out, haha!

That's all for now, I hope you found my statement and lore explanation entertaining! I am excited to share more in the future.

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n1ght0f-nyx · 8 months ago

Note

Hihi!

I just read your rules, so I hope this request follows them:

Could I request an leviathan!merman x fem reader? I'm not super picky about the details of his appearance, so you can have fun with that.

I'm thinking, maybe, reader is prisoner on a pirate ship and leviathan!merman attacks and sinks the ship because it constantly disturbs the water of his territory. He finds reader, realizes he almost killed an innocent captive, and shenanigans ensue from there. He takes her home with him to take care of her while she recovers from the imprisionment/his attack since it's too far to safely take her back to shore, much less a shore she knows. His underwater cave has an airpocket/above-sea level entrance as well as the main entrance; how lucky and convenient, amirite?😅

Maybe he's slightly awkward and it makes him seem detached and scary...

I'm hoping for fluffy with a smidgen of spice or smut at the end?

Thank you in advance if you decide to write this!🫶

holy shit this was insane i love you

merman x fem! reader fluff and smut

warnings/tags- short smut peice at the end, fem reader, monster x human, mentions of imprisonment, i gave him a name at the end

word count- 3727 words (im tired)

The salt-laden air was suffocating. The relentless waves rocked the creaking pirate ship as it cut through the waters, a prison you couldn't escape. Days had passed since your capture, and you were bruised, sore, and tired from the confinement. The crew barely acknowledged your existence beyond the scraps of food they tossed your way. They were focused on something else, something beyond the horizon that kept them nervous and on edge.

One of the older pirates muttered about a sea demon—a creature that hunted ships around these waters. You thought it was nothing more than sailors’ superstition, but as the air turned heavy and the sea became unnaturally still, an eerie sensation crawled down your spine. The crew became frantic. Eyes darted toward the water, watching for something. You couldn’t tell what.

It happened fast. The once-still water erupted into chaos, and the ship shuddered violently as if something enormous had collided with it. Men screamed weapons were drawn, but none of it mattered. The sea itself had risen against them. Waves higher than any you'd ever seen crashed down, tearing the ship apart. You were thrown across the deck, striking the mast hard, the air rushing out of your lungs as darkness claimed you.

---

When you awoke, the world felt different. The coldness of the water had soaked through every part of you, the sensation both numbing and alarming. You blinked, trying to focus on your surroundings, but nothing made sense. The sea still roared, but you weren’t drowning.

You were… floating? Treading?

Something—or someone—had you in its grasp. Panic surged through you, and you tried to twist away, only for the grip around you to tighten, keeping you still. Then you felt it—scales. The slick, cool texture brushed against your skin as a powerful tail swam you through the water with ease. You struggled, coughing up saltwater, your limbs heavy and useless.

A voice, deep and foreign, hummed in the water. “Don’t… fight.” The words were broken but clearer than you expected. You tried to crane your neck, to see what held you, but before you could make sense of the situation, you were lifted above the water.

The night sky greeted you once more, stars shimmering against the black ocean. But it wasn’t the stars that took your breath away. As your vision focused, you were pulled into the shallow confines of a cavern. Rock formations loomed above, sharp and jagged, and the faint glow of bioluminescent algae clung to the cave walls, casting an ethereal light across the scene.

Then you saw him.

The creature holding you was enormous. His upper body was humanoid but covered in dewy scales, glistening under the faint light. His skin was a mix, inky gunmetal grey and Cerulean blue, blending with the shadows and the sea. The scales grew rougher around his neck and joints, trailing down to the massive tail that curved behind him. His eyes, glowing with an eerie gold hue, met yours, unblinking and intense.

A sea-creature.

The pirate tales weren’t lies.

He moved carefully, setting you down on a small ledge that jutted out of the water inside the cave. You coughed again, your body shaking as the cold air hit your wet skin. For a moment, the creature just stared at you, his eyes scanning over your form with something you couldn’t place. Was it curiosity? Guilt? You weren’t sure, but it wasn’t the mindless aggression you'd expected from the stories.

"Pretty… girl," he whispered, the words hesitant as his voice echoed in the cavern.

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear mixing with confusion. Why had he saved you? Had he been the one to destroy the ship? The silence between you stretched on, uncomfortable and thick. You opened your mouth to speak but hesitated, unsure if you wanted to know the answer to your questions.

He shifted awkwardly, his long tail curling into itself as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. The leviathan’s hands, large and clawed, flexed as he tried to mimic human gestures. He brought one to his chest as if trying to calm you. His voice was gruff and halting. “Hurt..?”

You swallowed, trying to find your voice. "I... I was a prisoner."

The leviathan frowned, his expression twisting as if he was processing your words. He pointed to himself. "I… destroy..Save you." he spoke blankly

Your mind reeled. He had attacked the ship. He had killed everyone on board—pirates, yes, but also human beings. And yet here he was, trying to help you. There was no malice in his expression, only an awkward uncertainty, like he wasn't used to interacting with anyone, let alone a human.

“I…” You stammered, feeling small under his gaze. “Why?”

His head tilted, brow furrowing. He seemed to struggle with the question, trying to find the words. "Innocent," he finally murmured. "No kill… innocent."

You wanted to believe him. But trust didn’t come easily when you’d just been ripped from one terrifying situation and thrown into another. “You killed them all,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

The leviathan’s eyes darkened, his tail thrashing slightly in the water, sending ripples across the surface. “They… disturbed…” His hand clenched into a fist before he loosened it again, trying to maintain his composure. “This… my home. They hurt… water. Hurt… sea.”

You blinked, processing his words. He was a protector of these waters, not a mindless monster. He had been defending his territory. The pirates had angered him and threatened his home. And in his attempt to drive them away, he had nearly taken you with them.

“I didn’t mean to be there,” you said, your voice softer now. “They captured me.”

He nodded slowly, his golden eyes never leaving yours. There was a strange kind of innocence to him despite his monstrous appearance, like he was trying to understand, trying to make sense of the situation as much as you were. “I… care for you. You are safe… here.”

You looked around the cave, the glow from the algae creating an otherworldly atmosphere. The air pocket allowed you to breathe, and while the water was cold, the rock beneath you was dry. For now, you were safe.

But how long would you be here? How far from the land were you? Your thoughts spiralled, and before you could stop yourself, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You were stranded in an underwater cave with a creature who had just destroyed an entire ship, and you had no idea what would happen next.

Seeing your distress, the leviathan made a low sound, a soft chirping noise that seemed almost out of place for something his size. He inched closer, his movements slow and deliberate as if trying not to scare you. “Safe… now,” he repeated, his voice almost a whisper.

Your body trembled, a mix of cold and exhaustion taking over, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. You were too weak to respond, and as your vision blurred, you caught a final glimpse of the leviathan’s concerned gaze.

“Rest,” he murmured, his deep voice the last thing you heard before the darkness took you once more.

---

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you awoke again. The cave was still, the water lapping gently at the edges of the rocks. Your body ached, but the sharp pains from earlier had dulled to a manageable throb. As you stirred, you noticed the leviathan watching you from the water, his upper body resting on the edge of the ledge.

“You… awake,” he said, a hint of relief in his tone.

You pushed yourself up slowly, wincing as your muscles protested. “Yeah,” you muttered, rubbing your forehead. “I’m awake.”

The leviathan studied you for a moment before shifting his weight and submerging partway into the water again. “No go… back to land,” he said, his voice low but clearer than before. “Too far. Too… dangerous.”

You frowned. “Then what do I do? Just… stay here?”

He looked almost embarrassed, his golden eyes darting away from yours. “For now. I… help. You stay safe.”

It wasn’t an ideal solution, but what choice did you have? You were miles from land, and even if you could swim back, there was no guarantee you’d survive the journey.

As the days passed, the initial fear that had consumed you began to ebb away, replaced by something you couldn’t quite define. The leviathan, whom you had come to think of simply as "him," seemed to be doing everything in his power to make you feel safe. Every day, he brought you food from the sea—fish, clams, seaweed—arranging it in neat little piles on the dry ledge of the cave where you rested. It wasn’t long before you stopped seeing him as a monster. He had saved you, after all. And there was a gentleness in his awkwardness, an effort to communicate that made you feel like you weren’t just some stranded victim in a strange land.

He never wandered too far, always returning with something new—a small collection of smooth stones, intricately shaped shells, and occasionally, bones that had been bleached by the ocean. He would lay them down carefully in front of you, watching for your reaction with bright, expectant eyes. At first, you didn’t think much of it. He was probably just offering you things he thought might interest a human, but you noticed that he always seemed delighted when you picked them up, inspecting each one closely.

You had begun making a habit of it—admiring the shells, thanking him for the smooth, polished stones. His face would light up in a way you’d never seen before, his golden eyes flashing with that strange, bioluminescent glow that was becoming more familiar to you.

And it wasn’t just his gifts. His body language had started to shift in subtle ways. When he emerged from the water, the faint freckles along his face and shoulders glowed softly, but when you spoke to him or even smiled in his direction, they would brighten, casting more light into the dim cave. At first, you assumed it was a natural response to his emotions—perhaps a way for his kind to communicate. But then came the sounds. He chirped. He hummed. He made these low, rumbling noises deep in his chest that reverberated through the cave walls.

It was strange—almost endearing.

One day, after he had brought you a particularly beautiful shell—spiralled and iridescent—you smiled at him, running your fingers over its smooth surface. “It’s beautiful,” you said softly. “Thank you.”

The leviathan’s face lit up, his freckles flaring into an almost blinding brightness as he chirped happily. You chuckled, placing the shell in the small pile of treasures you had started keeping at your side.

“Do you have a name?” you asked him, curious if he could understand more complex language. “I mean… what should I call you?”

He blinked, his head tilting slightly. “Name…?” His voice was still halting, but he was getting better, and more confident with his words. “No… name.”

“Hmm.” You bit your lip, thinking. “Maybe I’ll give you one, then.”

His eyes widened slightly, glowing with interest.

You tapped a finger against your chin, trying to come up with something that suited him. Something powerful, but also kind. “How about... Kai? It means sea in a few languages.”

“Kai…” he repeated as if testing the word. Then, his face broke into a small smile, the glowing freckles on his cheeks pulsing rhythmically. “Kai… like.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. “Good. Kai it is.”

The days continued like this, with him bringing you more gifts and making those strange chirping noises whenever you accepted them. Sometimes he would linger nearby, watching you with a strange intensity that should have been unnerving but wasn’t. It was almost… sweet.

One evening, after he had brought you a particularly smooth stone—a dark, deep blue colour—you held it up to the faint light. “You have quite the eye for pretty things,” you said teasingly, glancing at him. His golden eyes glinted, and he made that low, rumbling hum again, the sound resonating in your chest.

You didn’t know when it started to happen, but somewhere along the way, you had stopped seeing him as just a creature of the deep. There was a tenderness in him, a genuine care for your well-being that warmed you in ways you hadn’t expected. He wasn’t just keeping you alive. He was trying to make you happy. And it was working.

You caught yourself watching him more often—how his muscles shifted beneath his dark, glistening skin, how his tail curled and flicked in the water when he was excited, how his glowing freckles pulsed in response to your laughter. And when he brought you something new, when he chirped at you or hummed softly, it made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

---

Kai didn’t fully understand it at first, but something had changed between the two of you. He could feel it. Every time you smiled at him or touched the gifts he brought you, something warm and bright filled his chest. It was more than happiness. It was... connection.

He had been practising the small rituals of his kind for days now, bringing you things he knew you would like—rocks, shells, even bones from deep within the sea. He had hoped you would understand what he was doing, even if it wasn’t something humans were used to. And when you accepted his gifts, when you smiled at him and thanked him, he felt like he was glowing from within. You were accepting him.

The colours in his bioluminescent freckles had grown brighter each day, especially when you were near. He could feel his body reacting to you—flashing brighter, chirping louder, humming more frequently. He had started making these sounds almost unconsciously, his excitement and affection bubbling up every time he was near you.

And then there was the moment when you said his name. Kai. A human name, but it fits. You had given him something special, something to define himself beyond just a creature of the deep. He had felt it then—an overwhelming urge to be closer to you, to protect you, to make you his.

---

You hadn’t realised it until later, but you had unknowingly been accepting his courting rituals. The smooth rocks, the shells, the soft chirping sounds—all of it had been Kai’s way of showing affection, of trying to bond with you. And you had accepted it with open arms, without even realising the significance of what you were doing.

One night, as you sat by the water’s edge, Kai was closer than usual, his large body half-submerged in the water. His golden eyes were fixed on you, his freckles glowing softly. You noticed how close he was, and how his massive form took up most of the space in the cave. But instead of feeling intimidated, you felt… comforted.

He chirped softly, his tail flicking in the water. "You… like?” he asked, his English much clearer now.

You glanced down at the latest gift he had given you—a perfectly polished piece of coral—and smiled. “I do. Thank you, Kai.”

His glowing freckles flared again, and the rumbling sound in his chest grew louder, more persistent. He was... happy. You could feel it radiating from him.

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his arm where the scales were smoothest. His body tensed momentarily, his eyes widening as he looked at where your hand rested. But then, he relaxed, a soft, pleased chirp escaping him.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but you stopped seeing him as just a sea creature somewhere along the way. It was Kai. He was awkward and endearing, and despite your vast differences, he made you feel safe.

And as you looked into his glowing eyes, your heart beat faster in your chest. You had grown fond of him—maybe even more than fond.

Kai’s tail flicked in the water, and he shifted closer, his face just inches from yours. His freckles glowed brighter, casting the cave in a warm, ethereal light. “Pretty… girl,” he murmured, the words filled with a strange kind of awe.

You smiled, your hand still resting against his arm. "And you're not so bad yourself."

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the sound of the ocean filling the space between you. But something had changed. There was a new understanding, a new bond. You weren’t just surviving together. You were connected.

And from the way Kai’s eyes shone, you could tell he felt it too.

As the soft light from Kai’s freckles pulsed gently around you, you felt his large form shift beside you. Before you could react, he lowered his head, nuzzling it under your chin with surprising tenderness. His skin was cool and smooth, and the sensation sent a shiver down your spine, though not from fear. You hesitated, then let your hand drift to the back of his head, fingers tangling in the strange but silky strands of his dark hair.

A low, content hum rumbled from him, vibrating against your chest. He was close—closer than he’d ever been before. The warmth of his presence, the gentle weight of his nuzzle, made your heart race, and yet... it felt right.

“Have… pups,” Kai murmured, his voice halting but filled with sincerity. You froze, your breath catching in your throat as his words slowly registered. “My… pups.”

It was then that everything clicked into place. The gifts, the soft chirping, the glowing freckles, his constant presence. This wasn’t just him being kind. This was more. **He loved you.**

Your heart pounded in your chest as you pulled back slightly, looking down at him in stunned realization. His eyes, glowing softly, blinked up at you with that same innocence and intensity. He wasn’t just a protector—he saw you as his mate.

And somewhere deep inside, you realized that you didn’t mind the thought.

You stared down at Kai, your fingers still resting gently on his head as he gazed up at you, unaware of the weight of his words. His eyes were wide and expectant, as if waiting for your reaction. The warmth that had been building in your chest bloomed fully, but it was accompanied by a nervous flutter in your stomach.

"Pups," you whispered softly, your voice barely audible. The idea, once foreign and unthinkable, now seemed… less strange. It wasn’t just the word—it was the meaning behind it. The way Kai had said it, with such sincerity and hope, like he couldn’t imagine anything more important. The realization that this ancient, powerful being cared for you in ways you hadn’t even understood until now.

Kai’s tail flicked in the water, splashing lightly as he nuzzled you again, this time more insistently. “Yes… pups,” he repeated softly, the low rumble of his voice vibrating through you. He shifted even closer, his large frame curling around yours protectively. “You… mine.”

Your breath hitched at his declaration. The weight of what he was saying—what he felt—was starting to sink in. Kai wasn’t just offering you protection or companionship. He wanted more. He wanted to build a life with you, in whatever form that took. To him, it seemed so simple. But to you, the complexity of the situation was dizzying.

Could you feel the same way about him? Could you be with someone so vastly different, someone from a world so far removed from your own?

But as you looked into his eyes, glowing softly with that bioluminescent warmth, you realized that you already had. The time spent together in the cave, the strange courtship rituals, the quiet moments of connection—they had already won you over. You had grown attached to him, maybe even fallen in love without realizing it. And now, faced with his earnest desire, it was impossible to ignore.

“Kai,” you murmured, brushing your thumb gently over the side of his face. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

His head tilted, eyes blinking as though he didn’t quite understand why you would question it. “Mean… yes. You mine. We… together. Have… pups.”

You think for a few seconds “how…how would we..?”

His hand pushes against your thigh, twitching hard, which has your eyebrows pulling tight. You go pale when you look down. What you assumed to be his hand was something else completely, moving around against your thigh with a sticky sheen being rubbed on the skin of you hip like he’s grinding his double dicks against you. His tail is heavy enough to keep you in place under him, and his crawled hand is slid along your side while he purrs pathetically, looking up at you with sweet begging eyes “Oh, fuck,” you mouth, “oh fuck.” Trying to slip out from under him makes him let out a soft growl, mouth corners lifting to show his canines.

“I-i dont think i can take them..both” you gulp.

He doesn't seem to notice, all he desires is your affection, Kai brings his fingers up interlacing around your chin. Under the night sky, his body lights up, the shimmering blue lights on his skin and tail accentuating your own vulnerability. He offers you a smile, his deep brown eyes sparkling with longing in the soft glow of the moon. Your lips meet. You trace your fingers along his chest and stomach. A glimpse of his form emerges from his opening, and you can't help but smile as you circle his protruding tip. He sighs your name into your mouth, the sensation akin to the gentle ebb and flow of the sea against the rocks. Gradually, he slips his entire cock into your hands grasp, and you caress his length with gentle strokes. He recoils slightly, his head resting back, his scales reflecting the moon's light. Firmly holding you, he rolls you onto your stomach. You grin up at him, extending your hand to gently sweep away a few droplets from his face. He returns the smile. Leaning back, you spread your legs and clasp onto his hips, taking a deep breath as he positions himself for an intimate moment. Your moans fill the night as he fucks you with a rhythm reminiscent of the ocean's waves.

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vashs-turtleneck · 1 year ago

Text

Spoiled Rotten.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) Summary: Vash's idea of you spoiling him isn't what you had in mind, but if it makes him happy... Pairing: Vash the Stampede x f!reader Word count: 3.1k Content: smut, face riding, oral (f! receiving), established relationship, pwp

NSFW BELOW, 18+ ONLY, MDNI!

It's been a frustrating few days, finding yourselves travelling between towns without being able to catch a break from all the bandits hot on your tails. The previous town was particularly awful, barely managing to step into the damn place before being chased out by the townsfolk cursing the humanoid typhoon's name. He's hiding how much it's bothering him, but you can tell Vash is feeling less than under the weather.

When he gets like this, it's not uncommon for him to seek out your touch when you're finally in private, under the roof of some worn down inn, his arms circling your waist, his face pressing against the back of your neck.

"Mayfly..." He whispers huskily, shakily, like he's trying desperately to hold himself back, his breath hot on your skin.

"Please."

He doesn't have to say anything more for you to know what he's looking for. He wants solace, a chance to forget the world for even just a moment, and you're more than happy to give it to him.

It's not long before his lips are on yours in a heated kiss, before all your clothes are scattered all over the floor of the dusty room, your back pressed against the worn linen of the bed, his body caging yours beneath him, looking down at you like you're something to be worshipped.

It should be the other way around. With everything he's been through, be it recently or decades prior, it should be you looking down at him in marvel right now, worshipping every inch of his patchwork skin until his face is filled with nothing but blissful euphoria.

His mouth is on your neck, lips and and teeth sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin while his hands trace the curves of your naked body.

"Vash..." You whisper out softly, your hand tangling through his soft blonde hair.

"Yes, mayfly?" He breaths out against your neck, not pausing his ministrations as his tongue traces patterns against your skin.

"I- I want-" Your words get cut off as he sucks on a particularly sensitive part of your neck, stealing your breath. You know that he knows exactly what he's doing too, because you can feel the smirk on his face as you trip over your words.

"What do you want? Anything for you. Just tell me."

'Anything for you.'

Yeah, you know. You know he's always so eager to put your pleasure far before his own. Right now though, what you want is nothing more than for him to let you take care of him for once. If there's something that could help him forget the guilt he feels dragging him down every waking moment, you want to know what it is. Yet, he's always so tricky and coy, even when you're trying to take care of him, somehow always managing to turn the tables and make the evening all about your pleasure every time.

"I wanna take care of you." You whisper shakily, his relentless tongue dancing along your pulse point, carving a subtle arch into your spine.

"Hm?" His mouth leaves your neck, finally giving you a moment to breathe, his head tilting up towards yours and those pretty baby blues staring at you curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I wanna do something for you, Vash."

But he just chuckles softly at you, shaking his head as his thumbs trace little circles into your waist.

"You're already doing plenty for me. Just lay there and keep looking pretty, angel."

He goes to dive back towards your neck, but you swiftly press your palm to his mouth to stop him, his azure eyes blinking wide in confusion at you as he mumbles an incoherent 'mmgh?' against your hand.

"Oh come on, you know what I mean. Let me take care of you, please? I wanna do something special for you." You tell him, your fingertips moving to trail along his jawline.

"You don't have to do anything for me, mayfly. I'm perfectly happy right here."

You sigh, feigning annoyance at his reluctance to tell you what he wants. He's so difficult when it comes to his own urges, but tonight, you're keen on getting the words out of his mouth.

"Really? You don't have anything you can think of that you'd like?"

And you don't miss the slight flicker in his eyes, but he says nothing, staring at you silently as his cheeks start to turn pink.

"Oh, you do have something in mind, then." You tease, pushing him a little further, resting your hand on his cheek as you wait for his answer.

"W-Well... y'know..." Vash says sheepishly, his face flushing a deep scarlet now.

Your eyes narrow on him, tilting your head as you wait for him to tell you. Your curious expression only flushes him more. Why do you have to always be so cute and caring? Always so willing to fulfill his desires.

"I guess there has been... something I've been thinking about." He mumbles shyly, his eyes not quite meeting yours as his cute little blush covers his handsome features.

"Tell me." You press a chaste kiss to his cheekbone, right on that adorable little mole beneath his eye. "I wanna make you happy. Wanna spoil you."

Your words make his heart soar. What he did to ever deserve someone like you, he'll never know, but you're a blessing he'll never stop thanking universe for.

"Oh, mayfly. You always make me happy." He coos, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he plants a featherlight kiss to the corner of your mouth. "And you spoil me every time you give me the pleasure of being with you so... so intimately."

He can tell by the look in your eyes that you're still intent on indulging him tonight, so with a breathy chuckle and an exasperated sigh, he gives in.

"You really don't give up, do you?" He says playfully, but despite his initial reluctance, he can't deny the part of him that wants to let you spoil him, his thoughts sending a new wave of heat straight down to his already throbbing cock.

"Alright, let me just..." Vash rolls off of you, laying his back flat against the creaky bed before he holds his hands out to you and gestures you to come closer.

Oh, does he just want a blowjob? Easy enough.

You go to situate yourself between his legs, your hands already reaching for his cock before he jolts up and gently graps your wrists.

"Oh n-no, mayfly! That's not what I meant." He sputters, letting go of your wrists and rubbing the back of his head with his prosthetic. He looks away when he sees the puzzled look on your face.

"I mean, not that I don't like that. I actually really like that, and you're really good at it too. You're always so good to me. You're too good for m-" You press your finger to his lips to shut him up. He's rambling, clearly flustered now. You know he's always had a hard time voicing his needs and wants, never feeling like he deserves to have them fulfilled in the first place, but your mind is set on spoiling him tonight, and you want to know what he wants.

"Vash, love, relax. It's okay. Just tell me what you want, okay?" He nods against your finger on his lips, azure eyes looking at you so intently you feel like you might drown in them. You move your finger from his lips, gently cupping his face as you wait for him to speak.

"I want..." His words trail off again, overcome with this overwhelming shyness to share his desires with you, but there's also this intense longing in his eyes. "Mayfly, I want you to... to sit on my face."

You blink.

Oh.

"S-Sit?"

Vash looks at you, blushing with a sheepish little grin on his handsome face as he nods.

"Mhmm. I've been wanting this for a while actually, just been nervous to ask you."

Of course. How like Vash. Of course his idea of indulging himself would be to have your cunt pressed in his face while he pleasures you.

"Only if you want to, of course!" He sputters nervously. "If it's not something you want, that's okay, I don't mind. Really!"

"Well, of course I want to, but..." You trail off. The thought of Vash plunging his tongue deep inside you as he pulls your hips to his face sounds like the best idea he's ever had, but you can't help but feel like it's a bit one-sided.

"But I wanted to do something for you, Vash."

You can see him trying to hide just how excited he is, like he can't contain the beaming smile creeping up on his face. His hand trace along the curves over your body before resting on your hips, his excited grin quickly being replaced by a hungry smirk.

"Oh trust me, mayfly. This is for me."

His sultry tone sends a wave of heat down between your legs. His hands are already strongly gripping your hips, urging you to shift yourself forward as he gets comfortable on the bed.

"Come. Sit. Spoil me. Please." He purrs.

With his hands guiding your hips, you climb up the length of his body until his head is situated between your thighs, giving him an incredibly intimate view of you, his pretty baby blues fluttering between your face and your pussy with an eager little smile on his face.

"Just tap on my leg if you need me to get off of you, okay?" You say, feeling his soft hair tickle the insides of your thighs.

"Like I'd ever tap out." He chuckles as his hands gently trace the curves of your hips and thighs, waiting impatiently to have them soundly pressed against his face.

Vash groans audibly, his eyes fluttering as he watches your cunt drop against his greedy tongue, your thighs pressing down on each side of his head, encasing him between your legs, exactly where he wants to be. His deepest desire was manifesting itself in this very moment, the lewd fantasy of greedily pulling apart your wet cunt as you ride his face to your heart's content finally becoming a reality. His tongue immediately begins to lick at your sex, tasting you as he wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer, holding you in place and urging you to ride his mouth. He groans as your moist heat swallows his face, a shiver running up his spine as his breaths catch in his throat. His lips curl into a smug grin as his tongue brushes against your sweet, soft flesh, moaning softly, relishing in the taste of you.

"Mmm, you spoil me, angel," he whispers, his voice low and hoarse, trembling ever so slightly, like he quite contain how excited he is right now. "Let me drown in you."

Vash has always been quite enthusiastic when it comes to eating you out, taking his time and savoring you like he's trying to make it last as long as he can, wringing out your pleasure and enjoying every drop you have to give him.

But this time is different. He's ravenous, hungry, his mouth latched to your slit like his life depends on it. He's taking his frustrations from these last few days out on your pussy in the best way possible, completely gorging himself on your body in a way that has you already seeing stars. You have to grip the bedframe firmly to keep yourself hovering above his face, your legs trembling from the onslaught of pleasure he's so lovingly wrecking your cunt with.

"Mayfly..." You hear his hoarse, lust striken voice call out to you. When you gaze down, you see his hazy blue eyes staring back up at you, glassed over with a deep hunger that you don't see often.

"I told you to sit." He says, emphasizing his point but gently pulling your thighs down harder, dropping more of your weight onto him.

You're surprised as he tugs you down, but you maintain your weight, holding yourself up, whining out a weak little, "I- I don't want to smother you."

He chuckles at you, licking a teasing stripe from your inviting little entrance all the way up to your clit just to hear your voice crack with pleasure.

"I want you to smother me." He breathes out, his words completely genuine despite how lewd they are. "I'll be fine. I'm tough." He adds with a playful wink.

His eyes are filled with pure, unadulterated elation, looking up at you like you're the one doing him a favor, like worshipping every inch of your pussy is the sweetest gift you can grant him, and if it's what makes him happy, you'll give it to him.

You lower your hips down towards him, letting your weight fall against his face while his hands lovingly support your body, a sweet sigh leaving his wet lips.

"Good girl," he whispers, his voice trembling with anticipation, his eyes glued to your most intimate areas as he feels you drop down on him. "That's it. Just press your weight down on me, baby. Don't worry about me."

Strong hands encase your thighs, pulling you down eagerly and parting your knees further, opening up every hidden bit of your drooling flesh to his greedy mouth, his tongue expertly dancing over every intimate corner of your pussy.

One of your impatient hands lets go of the bedfreame to grip at his soft blonde locks between your thighs, eliciting a needful, longing groan from the man beneath you. He growls as he presses his face into your plush folds, his nose teasing your clit with every hungry movement of his mouth.

"Oh fuuuck, mayfly."

Vash shivers as he feels the touch of your thighs spreading further apart, his fingers gripping the meat of your legs as he holds you in place, devouring you like a meal. His tongue flicks against your lower lips before wrapping his mouth around your sensitive little bud, making you gasp and shiver as he looks up at you.

You feel the cool metal of his prosthetic slowly release its grip on your thighs, his fingers gently slipping underneath you. You feel his dexterous digits spreading your pussy open, holding back your wet folds and exposing your aching entrance to himself. His tongue flicks and slides against your drooling hole, his breath catching in his throat as his mouth fills with your dripping arousal. You moan out wantonly when you feel his hot, skillful muscle push inside you, gathering your slick on his tongue like your juices are a reward.

The taste of you, the sound of you, it's all too damn much for the man lovingly nestled between your thighs right now, turning him on so much that he can feel his cock aching to plunge himself deep inside you. Yet he wouldn't dream of leaving his spot between your legs, every little whimper and whine that leaves the tip of your tongue only further fueling the fire burning inside him.

His hips begin to move, his cock pathetically thrusting upwards into the air above him in tandem with his tongue as he works your cunt, his body tense with need as he looks up at you with hungry eyes. A low moan escapes the humanoid typhoon, his lips spreading apart as his flesh hand moves to grip your ass and pull even closer to his face.

"M-Mayfly..." He says, his voice sultry and low, sending vibrations through your pussy that shake you to the marrow, his tongue blindly mapping your drooling sex as he pushes and pulls your body and forces you to grind against his face. "Fuck, angel. Keep using my mouth."

Despite being concerned for the muscles in his neck and his ability to breathe, you give in to what he wants, gently swaying your hips and letting yourself fuck his face the way he wants you to. His eyes glow brightly as he watches you, his tongue relentlessly stroking against your flesh as you pleasure yourself on his face until you feel like you might burst.

"Spoil me more. Drown me in you," he says breathily, relishing in the knowledge that he can make you spew such pretty noises and make your eyes roll back until all he can see is white.

"Va- Vash!" You cry out his name like a choir between frantic gasps for air, feeling your body about to explode in a pleasure.

Your climax hits you like a typhoon, slamming into you with such roaring intensity that would have had you falling over had it not been for the bedframe and Vash's strong grip on you. You hear a mewling whimper leave his lips, muffled by your body, and you feel him spasm and twitch beneath you before he comes along with you, plastering his chest, thighs, and even a bit of your back with hot spurts of his seed.

Despite the mind-numbing orgasm you're both still feeling the aftershocks of, you don't feel him pause for even a moment, his lips and tongue continuing to greedily devour your twitching and pulsing sex like he's in some love drunk haze, drinking the floods of your arousal like it's second nature.

Oh god, he's not stopping, his tongue lapping and swirling and overstimulating you until you feel like you're about to implode. Funny enough, it's you that ends up tapping out, fingers tangling through his blonde wisps to get his attention.

"Va- ah! -sh, t-too much!" You whimper out, gently tugging at his hair, to which he only moans out deeply in response.

"Mmmm, 'm sorry..." Vash murmurs hoarsly, licking one last firm and hungry stripe along your sopping cunt before his grip on you finally loosens.

You carefully move off his face, situating yourself on his chest as you take in deep gulps of air. When you finally look down at him, you're dumbstruck by the heavenly sight of him. His eyes are glassed over and hazy, his face flushed a pretty scarlet all the way down to his heaving chest, his own cum painting his abdomen, dripping down the meat of his thighs, dousing the twisted sheets beneath him, your juices coating his face as his tongue absentmindedly licks away the taste of you. He almost looks drunk, completely and blissfully fucked out.

"Vash, are you oka-"

"Can we do that again? Please? Please, mayfly?"

And who are you to deny him when he looks like he's drowning in the crypts of euphoria and begs you so gleefully.

#vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede x you #vash x you #vash x reader #vash smut #vash the stampede smut #trigun smut #pipwrites

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obsessivevoidkitten · 2 years ago

Text

Anjinth Comes

Yandere Male Eldritch Abomination Deity x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Violent noncon, blood, major character death, heartbreak, broken reader, religious themes, cult, paralysis, venom, oviposition, mild choking, breeding, tentacles, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.) Word Count 2.2k (So sorry that this took me so long. So sorry that this is so fucked up, more fucked up than the eel one tbh. Reeeallly need something fluffier to balance these last two out.)

The psychic scream for help released by Anjinth the Shadowed was not heard by many. It was only possible due to the thinning in the barriers separating the planes of existence and only a very few gifted in magic could perceive his call.

Of the handful of people who could, almost all of them discounted it as either a hallucination or a demon trying to lure them in with pleas of help and promises of power.

In fact on all of planet Earth you, and you alone, could both hear his call and were willing to assist him.

Anjinth told you all about himself. That he had originally come from the same realm of man, from deep within space, and had molded Earth to his will. But he had been bound and sealed into a realm of shadow and despair from which he could barely even talk into our world. He could only manage to do so now because the walls between the worlds had thinned ever so slightly.

He told you everything that you would need to do to release him from his prison, and he promised you power, immortality, and land that you would be able to rule under him. How could you resist?

So for years you made it your unyielding mission to bring him back to your world.

Luckily you slowly amassed a small cult to assist you. You had convinced enough people of your cause, getting them to see that the current world needed to be united under one unquestionable ruler.

The first thing you had to do was either find the pieces of magic crystal that summoned the portal that he was kicked through or to make a replacement that was tuned to the same frequency.

Since the pieces of the old one were crushed and scattered you had to make a new one. This was easier said than done.

But eventually you and those working under you managed to collect enough lapis lazuli to build the structure. It was high quality.

You were not a particularly gifted mage though, so enchanting the lapis gate and attuning it to the reverberations of the void realm where Anjinth lay waiting was beyond your capabilities.

But you were not alone in this and many of the Anjinth cult members had abilities and specializations that surpassed your own.

Your boyfriend, Zereff, was one such cultist. He was perfect, he was just as dedicated to the overthrow of the current world's corruption and disorder as you were and magical enchantments and attunements just happened to be his strong suits.

With the help of your beloved everything was almost ready for the day of reckoning when Anjinth would finally be released from his prison.

All that was required now was the summer solstice and it wasn't a long wait.

When the solstice came the entire congregation joined hands around the portal and began chanting a spell in unison, the runes etched into the crystal glew with a strange purple light, and eventually the portal opened, twirling and dark.

A gleeful laugh could be heard from the other side, you recognized it as the laugh of Anjinth, you had heard it a few times when he saw fit to speak to you.

You and your boyfriend, as leaders of his cult, stepped forward and knelt before the portal.

You did not know exactly what you had expected this ancient and powerful being to look like, but it certainly wasn't what you saw clamber out of the void to stand before you.

He was humanoid, but the proportions were off. He was easily over 9 feet tall, but his arms were strangely long. And there were four of them. You were too in awe to count but you could tell each of his hands had more than five fingers. His nails were black and pointed.

He was clothed in black robes that sparkled like a clear dark night.

Anjinth had long dark black hair that seemed to be in constant motion as if from a very slight breeze.

Sharp horns sprang from his head, but instead of curving upwards they curved downwards.

Tendrils made of shadow extended from his back and constantly writhed.

The being's legs were human enough, but he had a strange scorpion-like tail that looked like it was tipped with a scythe made from obsidian.

But the most striking features were that he seemed to have no mouth or eyes at all. Where his mouth should have been there was nothing and where his eyes should have been there were bandages.

At least they seemed like bandages, but they must have been part of his body as they appeared to be like his pearl white skin, not fabric, and tiny little malformed hands grew from them in random spots, and they moved and grasped, as if seeking something unknown.

Despite a lack of eyes he looked down, regarding you and your partner.

"Thank you, esteemed acolyte. I had been locked up for countless years, and now I shall bring the world to order under my command!!"

A lack of a mouth did nothing to stop him from communicating verbally.

His voice was like several men speaking all at once in near perfect unison, it came from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Anjinth gestured for you to approach him and spoke as he did so.

"Come now, we shall consummate our union, you shall be my mate and forever be at my side!"

You looked at your partner and then back at Anjinth with confusion. He knew you had a partner already. And that wasn't the deal.

You were supposed to rule under him, not be at his side.

"What? No, I was supposed to just rule under you… l-like a general or something! I am already with Zereff!"

The words tumbled from your mouth and were filled with obvious fear. Disobeying such a powerful cosmic horror was not something many would do.

He regarded you silently for a moment before stating angrily, "You WILL rule under me, as my mate. It is your reward for being so wonderful and dedicated, it was how I intended our deal to work from the moment you answered my contact!"

His arm elongated to an impossible length as you trembled at his wrathful words. He lashed his elongated arm right into the chest of your love and ripped out his heart.

Zereff fell to the floor lifelessly before he tossed the body aside like useless trash. The other members of the cult kneeled and looked away, not daring to defy their lord.

You ran to wear the crumpled lifeless corpse of your beloved had landed but were intercepted by the shadowy tentacles on Anjinth's back.

Though they seemed forged of shade they felt fleshy and were stronger than any iron, they pulled you close to the one you had worshipped for years, though you were unable to meet his eyeless gaze as tears dripped down your face.

"There, I fixed your problem for you. Now you no longer have any other mate to take your loyalty for me. Only minutes in your realm and I am already solving problems for you, how lucky you are to have me here!"

Your sorrow turned to fury at those words and you lashed out at him, punching and kicking wherever you could make contact. You did not care if you died, at least if you did you would be back with your only love.

Instead he just chuckled as if what you were doing was utterly adorable.

"So cute, but really we need to make our union official and seal it in sex and I might hurt you if you keep moving like that. So stop."

Words were not enough to deter you, if anything you lashed out only more fervently.

Suddenly there was a great, though brief, pain in your side. He had stabbed you with the tip of his obsidian bladed tail and injected you with something.

Your entire body tensed painfully before going completely limp. You were nothing more than a rag doll held in his tentacles.

Anjinth held you in front of him and began using his claws to tear your pants and underwear away, you certainly wouldn't be needing them for a long while.

He disrobed and, still in full view of all of the frightened cultists present, spread your ass cheeks with two of his hands and began to prod and knead your hole with his free tentacles.

His cock was strange, it protruded from a genital slit, all thick and slimy with a hint of a knot at the base.

He took you in his arms and turned you around so that your hole was presented to him like a bitch in heat.

Anjinth rubbed the tip of his cock on your entrance teasingly, as if mocking you for being able to do anything about it.

Under the effects of his venom you were unable to form words, managing only to produce a garbled whimper in protest.

"Oh, what am I thinking, you are too small and fragile! I better use lube!"

Once more his arm stretched out and went for the corpse of your lover. He covered his hand in his thick dripping blood and covered his cock and your hole in it, massaging it into you.

Wetting your cheeks with fresh tears was all you could manage to do. He wasn't sadistic, but he was angry you had defied him and he knew he had to thoroughly put you in your place as his mate.

This would be both a lesson and punishment.

You could feel his slimy tip lined up with your hole before he plunged down to the base in one smooth motion, causing your stomach to bulge with the outline of his cock.

You braced yourself for the pain that would come with being impaled by a cock that was at least 16 inches, as thick as your arm, and lubed only by sticky blood, but no amount of anticipation could prepare you for how excruciating the pain was.

It was otherworldly, far beyond just the physical sensation of having your hole stretched to its limit. It was like he was willing the pain into you, like you could feel his anger in every movement of his cock.

Cries of pain caught in your throat as he violently rage-fucked you, one set of arms moving you up and down his length like a living cock sleeve and his other free arms.

His tendrils snaked all over your body, feeling every part of you, slithering under your shirt and teasing your nipples before making their way to your neck and choking you. This wasn’t supposed to happen, none of this was supposed to happen. He was supposed to come into the world and unite humans with order. Some of his tentacles began entering your pained hole along with his cock, stretching you even wider. But just when you thought you could not possibly be opened up any wider the base of his cock began thickening, he pulled his tentacles out as his dick tied you to him. A few moments later he was pumping you full of what you thought was semen but was actually just lubricating fluid for eggs. You could feel large round masses being deposited deep within you as he moaned. Anjinth sent the other cultists away, commanding them to do various tasks, and they scampered away quickly. They were eager to no longer see what had become of their former leader. Once alone Anjinth sat down on the throne you all had made him with you in his lap facing towards him. The paralytic he had drugged you with had worn off but all you could manage to do was sob and babble incoherently as your new lover rubbed your back and pressed your face into his warm muscular chest. You were still firmly knotted to him and the tip of his cock twirled about gently inside you, as if trying to comfort your pain, even as a mix of Zereff’s blood and his own inky black lubricant leaked out of you and all over his thighs. “Shhh, it’s okay. Now that you are without that bothersome inferior and know your place I won’t have to be violent with you again~ You can just sit back and be by my side as I breed you full of my spawn everyday for the rest of eternity.” Just as he promised from the very beginning you would rule under him, it would just be a bit more literal than you had anticipated.

#yandere terato #yandere teratophilia #yandere boyfriend #yandere monster #yandere deity #male yandere #yandere monster x reader #gender neutral reader #male yandere x gender neutral reader #My OCs #My OC Anjinth #yandere eldritch abomination #yandere cosmic horror #yandere exo #yandere exophilia

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shinsocest · 2 months ago

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Semantics

Laios x fairy!fem!reader

notes: i just...yeah @t-tomuras there are no excuses to be made except for how long this sat here gathering dust. I embrace my shame. Enjoy this little thing ♡

"Laios, we said no humanoids!"

Your ineffective nails dig into the giant's hand grasping your body tight in hand, your wings trapped and uncomfortable. Their voices boom in your tiny eardrums.

"Does this really count?" The blond tall man holds you up to his face. "She's barely a mouthful."

"The fact that you said 'she' is horrifying," a smaller one mutters with an appalled expression. His arms cross and his face goes stoneset, words puffing behind an exhale. "She looks like a tiny elf with wings, so I think Marcille gets the final say."

"Marcille—"

Laios gives a shiver inducing whine to your ears, unable to break eye contact with his teeth. Would he swallow you whole? Chew you up? When you got separated from your mage, you knew the chances of living long enough to find him again were slim but this is nothing short of a nightmare. Tall men were supposed to be the least of your worries.

"Absolutely not!" The elf girl screeches, grabbing at the tall man's sleeve and reaching for you. "Laios, don't you dare. She might belong to someone!"

You squeak in pain as his grip tightens, your ribs creaking in protest as Laios struggles to keep hold of his prize.

"Fine! I won't eat her." His voice carries a sickening disappointment, and a childish pout all the same. "But I'm going to hold onto her for a while. If she's lost maybe we'll find who she belongs to."

"You promise you won't eat her?" Marcille questions insistently, ceasing her attempts to climb his shoulder.

"I promise."

The elf worries, eyeing your tiny face pinched with pain and fear. "Loosen your grip, you're hurting her Laios."

His fingers loosen immediately, and he pulls you close to his face again, worry in his eyes. "Ah crap. I didn't break her, did I?"

You glare at him with tearful eyes as he cradles you in both palms now, one of his calloused fingertips nudging softly at your cheek. His cheeks pinken as you pout at him, wings fluttering out now that they have space to be free.

"Tuck those away, little one." He gives you a smile you're not sure you trust, but he lifts you up and shows you a gap in the rolled blankets atop his pack. "You can rest there until we can do something for you."

Sniffling, you wiggle your way into the bedding and peek out at the group. With the tall man is the elf woman and the half foot male, but there's also a dwarf man and some feline beast woman. What an odd, odd grouping.

Exhausted, you wiggle deeper into the blankets trying to escape the heavy waves of their voices.

"Na, Senshi. What do you think?"

"She's too small. I can't imagine she packs enough nutrients for a balanced meal, Laios."

"Okay, okay."

It's after those suspicious words that it takes you hours to relax, drowsiness taking its sweet time to finally claim hold of your senses. But eventually, with the soothing lull of Laios' rhythmic gait, you find yourself rocked to sleep.

Despite the dreams of giant teeth that follow, it doesn't seem to be those horrifying images that wake you. It's more like... something large and very wet drags you into consciousness.

A confused moan squeaks past your lips. You're soaked from head to toe, but that isn't what tears your eyes open. Its the soft, but soul and skeleton shaking moan as something massive shifts above you. Your eyes focus onto the blond tall man panting above you, and a damp wave of hot air rushes over your skin as he leans in close once more.

"What are you.. wait!"

Your cry gets muffled as his tongue crosses the length your body again. Your toes curl, then your hips squirm, and your little chest heaves. The soft appendage is wet, searing hot, sending another disorienting wave of fear and arousal to your core. Your little dress has been carefully pushed and pulled, leaving your modesty far behind.

"You promised you wouldn't eat me."

Your voice shakes. There's no hope of being heard, you can barely keep your mind together. His fingertips are keeping your arms pinned firmly to the floor. You're not going anywhere unless Laios lets you. He's too close, burning lips brushing the skin of your belly, and your little feet dig a dimple into his cheek as you try in vain to create some sort of distance.

Golden eyes bore into your miniscule features, roaming all over the expanse of your exposed skin. They study your pebbled tits, soaked and shining with saliva he coated you in, but they can't help but return to the focus of his desire. A throb of want pulses between your thighs, slick with more than just this man's doing.

Your trembling legs cross as Laios shines you with a dumb, eager smile.

"But I still needed a taste."

#laios x reader #dungeon meshi smut #yuli writes #(for once lol)

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all-about-kyu · 2 years ago

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Summary: You should be scared of this tentacle alien, but you’re too far gone in pleasure to care. Pairing: alien!Jongho x human fem!reader Genre: smut Tropes: supernatural (alien) au Rating: R 18+ Warnings: tentacles, nipple play, fingering, bulging kink, size kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex, alien cum, creampie Word Count: 2,532 Note: enjoy week two of Arousal August!! Thank you to @mejuii for beta/proofing this!!! <3

One minute you were peacefully lying in bed, half asleep, scrolling through random social media. Next, you’re in some sort of futuristic ship. You swear you’re dreaming. This has to be a dream. Though, it all feels so real. The way you can hear the mechanical whirring of something in the distance. The air is chilly, not unbearably, but just enough to have goosebumps on your skin. Taking it upon yourself, you start to wander down the painfully bright white hall in the direction you hear some sort of keys typing away. Your heart is beating out of your chest as your bare feet carry you down the hallway. The further you get down the long corridor, the more chilled the air around you becomes. You feel your nipple pebble up beneath your loose sleep shirt. As you reach the end of the hall, you see a humanoid figure sitting at a command center of sorts.

“Oh, thank god there’s another life on this ship.” you whisper to yourself.

The humanoid creature whips his head around, and you see his bright pink hair and striking silver eyes. He’s stunning, to say the very least. He almost looks scared to see you behind him.

“H-how did you- oh my god did Wooyoung go and press another button again?” he whines.

Before you can get a single word out, he’s bolting through a doorway that closes tightly as soon as he’s through it. You didn’t think too hard about why he was so panicked. This is a dream, after all. You approach the command center and look out the wide window. The first thing you take notice of is how vivid all of the stars are. You can see each star’s individual color compared to what you can see from the ground. Then, you notice the Earth. Panic begins to rise in your chest again. It’s a dream; it’s just a dream. You pinch yourself to try to force yourself awake. It only hurts. Taking a few deep breaths, you plop yourself down on an oversized plush chair and hope that something will come along and peacefully transport you back to Earth. It’s terrifyingly silent in the large room. Not a single sound can be heard besides your own breathing. It’s still icy cold too. Whatever life form that man is, he has to come from somewhere cold if they keep it like this. Just as you’re about to get lost in thought, the door opens with a soft hiss noise and a much more muscular-built humanoid walks through. He seems more human than the one you had previously encountered. He has stark black hair and the most piercing blue eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Who are you?” it’s not a question. It’s a command.

“Captain of this ship,” you quip sarcastically, “who do I look like?”

“I’m the captain here, little human. I’ll ask again; who are you?”

You quickly tell him your name and nothing more. He’s clearly studying you silently. You squirm under his gaze and hope he’s not planning to do something horrific to you.

“Come with me.” he says stoically, already walking away, expecting you to follow.

“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself, at least? Or send me back home without another step in between? That pink-haired one said something about someone called Wooyoung pressing a button, and that’s why I’m here! Can’t you just-

The dark-haired alien spins around quickly, and you can see the anger swirling in his eyes. Before you can think, he has you pinned against the wall with a tentacle. You suddenly have nothing to say. A smirk grows on his lips before releasing you from his grip. The tentacle that had been holding you in your place returns to its place tucked beneath his pant leg. He doesn’t say a word. He continues walking down the corridor toward a rather lavish-looking door. The moment he approaches the door, it instantly opens but makes a strange noise as if to alert him that he’s not alone at the doorway. He says something in a foreign language, and the noise ceases.

“Have a seat.” he gestures toward a cushion nearby what you’d assume to be a bed.

Cautiously you approach the plush seat and sit. All while you keep your eyes trained on the mysterious, blue-eyed alien. You watch as his gaze drops to your chest, then almost instantly is brought back to your face. He likely isn’t trying to be rude. He is just trying to figure you out.

“I’m Jongho, by the way,” he tells you, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Very human names you have around here.” you tease, leaning back on your palms.

“We adapt to whatever names are suitable for the species we’re around. Hence why you heard Seonghwa call the other alien, Wooyoung, earlier, those aren’t our names from our home planet, but it’s what’s easiest for you to comprehend.”

“Mmm,” you hum in acknowledgment, “and I can assume this is your room?”

“The captain’s chambers, yeah.”

You watch his gaze drop to your chest again and linger momentarily before trying to engage in normal conversation again. It almost seems like he’s trying to distract you from something. Maybe even distract you from your wish to go back home. You can tell that he’s distracted by something too.

“Our research says that only happens when you want to mate,” he says abruptly.

“W-what?” you’re thrown off by his comment, “What are you talking about?”

He doesn’t say anything. He walks right up to you and reaches his arm out toward you. You’re about to question him again and smack his hand away. That is until his outreached hand finds its target. Jongho tweaks your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making you yelp out a moan. He smirks down at you as if he’s expecting your reaction.

“See,” he says almost flatly, “a noise you humans associate with mating.”

“My nipples are hard ‘cause it’s fucking freezing on this ship! You didn’t have to go and pinch it!”

“Is that not because you want to mate?” he muses teasingly, “I could show you how we do it here. You didn’t seem frightened by my tentacles.”

A part of you is being logical; you should immediately say no and tell him to send you home. The far more prominent part of your thoughts is screaming at you, saying this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity you must take. It takes you two seconds to debate it before you reach out to the alien. His eyes stay trained on you. You’re not entirely sure where the electric blue tentacle comes from, but you can barely see the bottom of his jacket lifting up due to it. The tendril wraps around your thigh.

“Show me how you do it up here.” You say in a sultry tone, “You seem like you need to destress a bit.”

Jongho doesn’t respond. Another one of his tentacles wraps around your other thigh and a third wraps around your waist. You’re lifted by the appendages as if you weigh nothing. Some golden speckles are swirling in Jongho’s eyes as he gets you pinned against one of his bedroom walls. He takes his hand and snakes it up your shirt to cup your bare breast below it. Your eyebrows furrow in desperation for him to move quicker. And as if he can read your mind, he forces your shirt over your head, leaving you in only your panties. They aren’t serving much purpose due to how soaked you are already.

“Do you want me to hold you up here, or shall I lay you down on the bed?” he questions, his voice much more gravely than it was before.

“H-hold me up here,” you respond, already breathless.

“Very well, little human.” he chuckles airly, “just a forewarning,” he pauses to lower you against his hard, clothed member, “this isn’t like what you’re used to. We have ‘tentacles,’ as you call them, here too. You still fine with this?”

“Jongho,” you whine, attempting to grind yourself against him, “you have no fucking idea how fine I am with all of this.”

With that, he steals your lips in a heated kiss as his fingers pull your panties to the side. He smirks against your lips feeling how wet you already are. Your breath hitches as his fingers glide through your folds. You think you may go insane if he doesn’t rail you into another dimension right now. His fingers push into you slowly. He sets a rough pace when he sees that you’re comfortable with the intrusion. The wet sounds that are being created by how wet you are combined with his rough pace only serve to make you both needier.”

“Jongho,” you moan, “fuck me, please.”

His tentacles tighten around you as the words hit his ears, “Now? What if I wanted to play with you a bit more?” still keeping his fingers at a brutal pace.

“I’ll go insane if you don’t fuck me right now.” you sigh erotically.

Jongho chuckles and pulls his fingers from you. A string of arousal connects his fingers to your pussy for a few moments before breaking. The golden specks in his eyes seem to multiply and swirl more aggressively through the blue they typically are. His hands tease along the waist of his pants for a moment before shoving them down along with his boxers. Your eyes trail down his body, watching how his skin transitions from his beautiful tan skin into the same electric blue that his other tentacles are colored. Your eyes stay fixated on the tentacle fixated between his legs. It’s hard, just like a human cock would be, but something about the details of it makes you so much more desperate. More desperate than you’ve ever been for any human. It’s also massive compared to anything you’ve seen before. There are little bubbles along the entire shaft that you know will feel like heaven inside you, and the top tapers off into a gentle tip. His base is thicker than what many people would deem doable. You’re willing to take that challenge, though. Again, you feel the tentacles holding you up tighten. They press into your skin so much that your muscles slightly bulge around the constricted area. He presses his body against yours, grinding himself against you. His lips find purchase on your neck right against your pulse.

“You ready for me?” he asks, causing goosebumps to rise where his breath hits you.

“I’ve been ready,” you respond with a slight giggle.

Your giggle gets quickly cut off as he pushes into you in one fell swoop. He stays still for a few moments as you let a string of garbled noises out. It feels so good. You’re so incredibly full of him that you swear he’s in your stomach. He gives an experimental thrust, and you immediately shutter due to the pleasure you already feel. The tentacle wrapped around your waist shifts up toward your chest, the tip teasing at your nipple. Jongho takes the other between his fingers, causing you to squirm (to the best of your ability) in his hold. His free hand takes one of your wrists and guides your hand to lay over your stomach.

“You feel that? I’m so fucking deep inside you that I’m bulging from your belly. Told ya, we do things different up here, little human.”

“J-jongho, please!” you all but shout.

“What, little human? Already coming close to your peak?” he teases.

It’s pathetic, but you are. The texture on his cock combined with his sheer size has you seeing stars that weren’t in the sky just outside the spacecraft. Jongho thrusts into you like an animal, keeping his hand on top of yours against the bulge in your belly. He grunts out things in some sort of alien language, and you can tell that, though he’s teasing you for being close, he is too. His hand, previously occupied by your chest, moves into your hair before pulling your lips against his. The kiss steals all your breath away, and mere moments later, your orgasm overtakes your body. Your free arm flies around his shoulder, holding him as close as you can as you shudder and quiver in the grips of his tentacles.

“I’m gonna breed you full. Fuck.” he practically growls against your lips.

Within seconds you feel something flood your pussy. Jongho stays inside you, grunting something in that same alien language again. His tentacles loosen slightly but still hold you strong against the wall. He pulls your hand off your belly and lets you wrap it around his other shoulder. His arms wrap around your waist, and his tentacles fully let go of you and disappear back into his spine. Jongho is still fully inside you, but now he’s also holding you close against his body. He carries you over to the bed finally and lays you down. Slowly, he pulls out of you, and you see the jelly-like substance coating his member. It’s a pretty light green color. It almost glitters as you take in its appearance more. Jongho looks at you with a gentle kind of look. Though, it has some sort of bittersweet, almost questioning undertone to it.

“You humans can’t absorb semen of any kind, right?”

“No,” you chuckle breathlessly still, “whatever species you are, you have some pretty cum, though.”

“I better clean you up then…”

More words linger on his tongue, but he doesn’t voice them. He diligently cleans you up and checks with every second that you’re truly okay. It’s tender, intimate. Not many people have this level of care during aftercare, but he does, and you appreciate it to no end. After he finishes cleaning up, he climbs onto the bed with you and starts drawing random patterns on your collarbone with his fingertip.

“So, are you sure you want to go back home?”

“Hmm?” you hum, half asleep already.

“Are you sure you want to go back home? I know Wooyoung beaming you up here might not have been entirely an accident, but would you be opposed to staying here with me?”

You lift your head and look at him. Your eyes shine like stars as you look at him. Part of you knows that you should go home. You have a life there. But you also know deep down you weren’t happy there. You could find a new life here on this ship with him.

“You see, Wooyoung knew you were my type. He’s a little shithead sometimes, but he knows me well.” he shifts to hold you tighter against his body, “I confided in him recently. I told him how I wanted young of my own, but I’d never want to abandon the ship. Would you be willing to stay here with me? Mother my young?”

“Jongho-”

“You aren’t being pressured to. If you want to go home, just say the word, and I’ll have Seonghwa beam you right back to where you were.”

You kiss the tip of his nose, “I was going to say yes, dummy”

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @sanjoongie @jaehunnyy @ericssmile @anyamaris @almondmilkeu @shinestarhwaa

#jongho smut #cultofdionysusnet #kwritersworldnet #kvanity #arousal august #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #jongho fanfic #jongho x reader

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smolcinnamonchipmunk · 11 months ago

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Mid-Fight Snack

(Elloooo. Been another while since I've been able to get around to posting actual stuff. I'd love to post or make more, but I have two animations I'm trying to work on and an entire cosplay that's taken up all my freebie because I don't know anything about sewing, lol. Obviously hasn't stopped me from thinking about Honkai a lot. Anyways, here's the Boothill vore writing finally! Hope it's not too bad, I'm a bit sleep deprived.)

Word count: 6233

TW/CW: Soft, safe m/nb G/t vore aaaaaand, I think that's literally it.

____________________________

“Behind ya, small-fry!” was about the only warning I had before being shouldered aside by a wall of metal, blinking in surprise as I spun around to see who just ran past me. I saw the retreating form of a very gray-toned humanoid with a red sash over their shoulder and white and black hair flaring out behind them as they ran, looking vaguely familiar. I squinted when I noticed the hat on their head. Was that the cowboy Dan Heng told us about that we met briefly in the Dreamscape?

I’d feel bad for not remembering his name if we hadn’t just barely met.

“Get back here!” was the only warning I had as I looked back at where the cowboy came from and saw a bunch of IPC personnel and robots charge around the corner towards him. And, in turn, me.

Having spent more time on the run than not in my time after joining the Express I ended up yelping and bolting down the hall after the cowboy. My footsteps were drowned out by the stampede of footsteps behind me and the sound of crashing and screaming ahead as the cowboy flung a few tables behind him as he passed, disturbing several guests and staff as he rushed past.

It wasn't until I rounded the corner after he turned down a hall that I realized that I probably should have just jumped out of the way because me running after the cowboy away from the IPC definitely made me look like an accomplice.

“Fucking damn it,” I hissed under my breath at the thought, jumping over the legs of another knocked over table. I realized too late that there was a couple still standing way too close on the other side but managed to avoid slamming into them. My shoe landed on a grape strewn on the carpet and I yelped as I almost slipped.

Narrowly avoiding faceplanting on the ground, I ended up straightening and locking eyes with the cowboy as he turned to look over his shoulder, seeing it widen slightly at seeing me. To be fair, I was only maybe twenty feet behind him compared to the IPC crowd that were chasing behind me still struggling with strewn furniture and passerbys.

My eyes widened as I saw something glint other than his exterior in his right hand, holding my hands slightly in front of me in a mock surrender to show that I was unarmed, quickly shouting, “I'm not IPC!”

“What the fudge are ya doing tailin’ me then?” the cowboy barked back at me, finger looking a bit too close to the trigger for my liking.

“I panicked when I saw the IPC guys running around the corner and it wasn't until I already started following that I realized I probably looked like-.”

“Criminal and accomplice west-bound towards main lobby elevators!” a robotic voice shouted behind us, one of the large, round robots that was way too quick for its size.

“Yeah, that,” I sighed, rolling my eyes and lowering my arms. It was weird holding my arms still while running.

All of IPC in the hotel probably knew about this chase. I only hoped that the Aventurine guy that almost cornered me in my room wouldn't show up. If fighting him in the dreamscape reflected anything about reality, I didn't want to be part of accidentally tearing the hotel apart fighting him to get away.

The cowboy stared intently at me for a second before growling low in his throat and holstering his gun with a flourishing twirl of his hand. I fully expected him to turn back forward and ignore me now that he determined I wasn't a threat, but instead he suddenly dropped pace to match me. He definitely was faster than me normally, but he’d been throwing so much stuff behind him and swerving through people that it slowed him a little whereas I was given almost clear passage in his wake.

“If you ain't IPC, why the fudge was your first thought at seeing these muddle-fudgers chasin’ after me to tag along,” he asked, voice sounding like he didn't fully believe I wasn't IPC.

“Well,” I replied, very glad that I had enough stamina to run and answer at the same time. I yelped when the cowboy suddenly twisted beside me, throwing down a tall potted plant as we ran around another corner, narrowly missing crashing into an elderly lady. “I haven't been around much, but everytime the Express has stopped somewhere there's been at least a couple times where we end up running from someone or something.

“Usually I'm with a group, so when you started running, my instinct was to follow like with them,” I finished sheepishly, looking to the side at him and almost startling. I'd been too focused on running to realize how fucking tall he was, needing to crane my neck a bit to look up at him.

“Well, fork me sideways and call me a son of a nice lady!” The cowboy exclaimed and laughed, showing off shark-like teeth. The eye not obscured by his hair glanced down and met my gaze for a moment, giving me a solid glimpse of dark gray iris with a red pupil and… was that a white crosshair in his eye? “You're one of them Astral folks with the Xianzhou fella!”

“And you must be the cowboy guy that broke onto the Express that Dan Heng told us about,” I blinked a bit at the realization, and a little at his odd speech patterns. One of the first things after waking up from the dreamscape being a check in with the other Astral Express crew with one of the weirdest things being Dan Heng messaging about how a cowboy got onto the Express. He had glossed over the fact that said cowboy showed up armed, but Pom Pom had been more than willing to share that fact in the chat. Looking back at the herd of IPC behind us, I asked, “Did you greet people at gunpoint again?”

“Where I come from, that’s just one of the many ways to say hello,” he chuckled. His face fell with mine as more IPC turned the corner at the end of the hall ahead while shouting, his expression turning into a scowl. Guests and staff alike glanced between the two walls of IPC personnel converging with us in the middle, most wisely making the decision to try and press against the walls or retreat back into their rooms to stay out of the way.

“Shit,” I started looking for other ways to turn, suddenly very much disliking the lengthy straight hallways. My eyes noticed a set of double doors to the right just as the cowboy shouted, “On the right!”.

I prepped myself to manifest my baseball bat to slam through the doors but the cowboy reached them first, sprinting ahead and spinning around to slam the back of his boot spur-first against the weak point of the handle. I’m not even sure if the doors had been locked, but I was glad we were both on the same page of better safe than sorry.

“After you, darlin’,” the cowboy paused just long enough to let me through first and I heard the rattling click of loading ammo as I passed, presumably taking out his gun again, the sound of his heels trailing behind on the carpet behind me.

“’Ppreciated, cowboy!”

I slowed slightly as the hallway ended up being incredibly short, leading to an expansive open area with tiled floor that we definitely only had a few seconds to take stock of before the IPC after us would start trickling in. Several types of gambling tables and a bar were in here, with a few scattered sitting areas with tables and luxurious plush chairs, and at least one pool table with the only thing breaking up the entire space being supporting pillars and various lamps or potted plants decorating the place.

At least a dozen eyes looked towards us as we ran in and I booked it towards what looked like the clearest path through the lounge, shouting, “Don’t mind us, just passing through!”

A crash behind me made me jolt and look behind myself, seeing the cowboy flip over a table as we ran by, scattering gambling chips, cards, and glasses of alcohol all over the ground as the people around the table scattered. Patrons started getting up and moving as far from us as possible, some making their way to the exits. Which, from the other sounds behind us, the exit where we came in was starting to be blocked by incoming IPC.

“Do you have to keep knocking shit over,” I asked, trying to temper some giddiness as I glanced back, the cowboy looking behind him with a smirk towards the exit. I saw a few of the smaller IPC run in from the short hall. “I like destruction too, but that wasn’t even in the way.”

The cowboy looked undeterred by my comment, seeming to be having fun with this chase. “Helps slow ‘em down.”

I scoffed in amusement as I turned my attention back forward, eyes widening at the sight of more IPC starting to pour in at the other end of the lounge. Glancing around for another exit that the two obvious ones I commented, “I don’t think slowing them down’ll help any when we’re blocked in!”

My shoes slid on the tile beneath me as I skid to a halt, the cowboy stopping only a second after me and overshooting me by a couple feet. His gun was already in hand, head turning as he also seemed to take stock of the room to see if there was a way to wriggle out of the situation. Unfortunately, it looked like the two exits the IPC came in from were the only ones to the lounge, leaving us cornered as the space filled with IPC personnel and robots.

“Hands in the air,” one of the larger bots demanded, probably carrying a high rank among the group. A bunch of them lifted rifles and guns to aim at us, the rest held large staffs with a glowing orange end for electrocuting. The other larger bots in the group lifted the yellow shields they had on their left arms while the one that spoke to us added, “And drop your weapons! You’re both going into IPC custody.

“You.” - the robot pointed to the cowboy, who raised his hands up without dropping his gun - “For a list of crimes that would have us here all day if I listed them all. And you-.”

I raised my arms slowly with the cowboy and narrowed my eyes at the robot as it gestured to me. I felt tense, internally coiled up like a snake ready to strike. I had a feeling that Criminal Cowboy wouldn’t be going without a fight, and neither was I. Question was just when to start and he seemed experienced enough with this that I was going to let him make the first move to avoid fucking it up for him.

“-for aiding and abetting a wanted criminal,” the robot concluded. Lowering its arm from pointing at us it gestured to one of the grunts, who produced a pair of glowing handcuffs and presumably had more. “Now, drop your weapon! I won’t be asking nicely a third time.”

“Heh,” the cowboy let out an amused exhale. “This ain’t my first showdown. But I’ll play your little game.”

I watched the cowboy intently as he loosened the grip on his gun until it started sliding out of his grip, dropping towards the tiled ground. My breath hitched in my throat in anticipation, seeing a few of the IPC around us relax slightly.

With a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it fluidity, the cowboy raised his left hand as his fingers contorted, shooting at the chest of the leader bot and striking true through its carapace. In almost the same moment his right leg shifted, the toe of his boot catching the dropped pistol and flicking his ankle up to throw it back into the air where he caught it in a twirl with his right hand.

“Get somewhere safe,” the cowboy said as the leader bot sparked and began to fall. He fired off another shot before the first even hit the ground, taking out two grunts that had been standing in an unfortunate overlap. Looking down at me, he had a wild grin on his face while the red in his eyes glowed. “I’ll handle these muddle-fudgers and find ya when the dust settles. Now, bring it on, baby!”

Without waiting for a response, he spun on his heel and popped off a couple more shots as the crowd of IPC jostled out of their shock. A couple peeled off and retreated from the room in a flight response but most immediately trained their attention on the cowboy as he charged towards the nearest cluster, giving another grunt an introduction to the back of his heel with a spur to the face.

“Oh, hell no,” I said to myself, focusing on the energy inside myself and felt my hands tingle as a black baseball bat manifested within my grasp, arcs of energy crackling off of it and my hands before dissipating. With almost everyone focusing on the cowboy bobbing around and firing shots, it was almost too easy for me to rush up behind about four people and wack them over the head before I also started getting some attention from the closest IPC personnel.

I had to roll out of the way of a grunt swinging a staff at my face, twisting to the side and tumbling before popping back up to my feet, darting around a pillar to hit someone else while shouting, “Staffs are a bit better when you’re not THAT close!”

With a bunch of IPC also now firing their guns, I didn’t notice the pause in the particular metal twangs from the cowboy’s pistol until I heard, “Son of a-, I told you to get somewhere safe!”

Looking over to where he dodged a few IPC bullets I saw him quick reload while glancing me up and down like he was reassessing me. I felt a surge of satisfaction and spite, running towards a few more IPC members and charging my bat up before swinging it in a sideways arc to hit three of them with a crackling smack that bowled over all three to the ground. Dodging a couple rounds myself, I kicked over one of the gambling tables and crouched behind it as I retorted, “This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy! I can handle a knock around or two!”

“Fork, color me surprised, small-fry,” the cowboy chuckled, doing an impressive twirl to shoot one of the grunts with a rifle. Two grunts with staffs rushed forward to try and do some sort of pincer move on him but he jumped into the air and backflipped onto a pool table. He tilted his head in my direction and tipped his hat with his left hand. “I feel like a right ash-vole underestimatin’ ya.”

I opened my mouth to reply even as he turned his attention to some more ground grunts running at him with staffs, noticing movement behind him. A couple riflemen were peeking up from behind the counter of the bar, both shifting like they were talking amongst themselves. One rifleman jerked their head towards the standing cowboy and the other looked like they hesitated before slowly raising the barrel to aim at the cowboy’s torso while the other rifleman watched with their own rifle slightly over the counter.

“Hold still, you,” an angry robotic voice sounded on my right, one of the standing large bots about twenty feet away. Its entire body shook as compartments in its shoulders opened and it released a couple rounds in my direction.

Yelping at the sight, I hopped over the table I was crouched behind and weaved towards the cowboy as I warned, “Rifle behind you! I got the staff guys!”

Explosives went off where I had just been, no doubt destroying the unfortunate table. The cowboy looked towards me at my outburst then scowled and spun around, firing off a shot at the rifleman aiming at him. The first hit the counter but a quick second shot knocked the rifleman out of the game, the other ducking back beneath the bar counter.

Running up to the grunts trying to charge the pool table I conducted energy into my bat again, swinging another arc to get a cluster of them before singling out the last couple. Huffing, I straightened just in time to see the cowboy shoot off again towards the bar, the bullet ricocheting off the shelves behind the counter just right to hit the hiding rifleman that you could see in the behind the bar mirror.

“Nice shot,” I said, extremely impressed at his marksmanship. I tried shooting a rifle after a fight on Belebog once and was immediately berated by Dan Heng when the shot went wild due to inexperience.

“Plenty more where that came from,” the cowboy smirked, tumbling off the pool table and firing off another shot from his left hand, hearing the creaking and fall of another large bot. “We'll have the rest of these muddle-fudgers cleaned up in no ti-.”

"In here!"

Both of us turned our attention towards the loud shout, noticing the sound of more footsteps from both exits to the lounge. I didn't realize that some of the remaining IPC personnel had run off, probably one of them or the ones that retreated at the start of the fight calling for back up. And it looked like it unfortunately arrived.

The grunts still in the lounge looked at each other before switching from a more disheartened and intimidated demeanor to a rejuvenated stance at hearing the fresh onslaught of IPC coming to help.

"I think we might want to reassess that statement there, cowboy," I tossed my head to the side with a groan. I rotated my shoulders to try and loosen them a bit before rushing forward toward the grunts still in the lounge. I noticed one of them raise their rifle towards me and prepared to dodge, but a few shots from behind me went off and both the rifleman and a couple other grunts were thrown back to the ground.

Charging between a couple of the other personnel, I grunted as a staff clocked me in the back after taking out one, two, three IPC with my baseball bat, a jolt running up my spine from the active orange staff-end striking against me. It made my tumble out of the way a bit janky, rolling to a crouch right as a bullet struck the tile a bit too close to me and I looked up to see more IPC pouring in from the lounge exits.

“Put your hands in the air!” multiple IPC shouted, barely coherent over the chatter of their fellows who barked out commands and orders.

"Fucking- this place is supposed to be relaxing!" I rolled and sprinted between tables and pillars as a barrage of bullets came towards both the cowboy and I. Running behind a pillar I did a hard pivot to run back out on the same side to catch the IPC off guard, able to weave through and hit a few. "I don't think I've relaxed the entire fucking time I've been at this stupid hotel!

“In the month or so I’ve been cognizant,” a wall of yellow almost slammed into me, yelping as I barely managed to jump up in time to tumble over one of the large bot shields instead of being slammed by it and chucked across the room as it swung at me. I tried to distance myself from it for now, wacking a rifleman on the head as I ran by. “-we’ve gotten two days without fighting or dealing with stupid diplomacy! MAYBE!”

Tumbling beneath another swinging staff, I bounced back to my feet and spun around to conduct an arc of crackling energy behind me to throw back the nearest IPC, three dropping to the ground and one flinching as a residual spark lashed out at them. I almost slammed into a wall of metal as I spun around to keep running, about to raise my bat to swing at them before realizing it was the cowboy I'd stumbled into, firing off an entire round of bullets at the crowd with audible success.

"Quit yappin'!" the cowboy growled, flicking his pistol to the side to empty the chamber of empty shells that clattered on the tile. His tone was gruff but he was looking way too pleased about the fight prolonging. "Or you'll find yerself diggin' your own grave!"

"I'll bitch in the middle of a fight if I want," I retorted, gaze flicking from looking up at the cowboy towards more movement. A grunt rushed forward to try and take advantage of the cowboy quick reloading, and I saw him shift to probably give another kick to the IPCs skull but I darted around him and swung upwards to clock them in the jaw. “It’s cathartic! Heads up!”

The IPC fell back to the ground and I used the cowboy as a bit of a pillar to move around, backpedaling to avoid another staff swing from a grunt that was promptly shot.

“Nice shot,” I complimented the cowboy before running out from his reach again. I started getting into a good flow of rushing off, smacking a few IPC and then either finding my next target or kiting someone around for the cowboy to take out. Anyone who tried to bumrush me or run away had to deal with a bullet, and anyone who tried to get too close to the cowboy earned a fast pass for a bat to the face.

Something felt off the longer the fight went on, but I ignored it in favor of surviving. I was definitely kind of tired and I’d be sore after this, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t dealt with.

One of the larger bots lumbered towards the cowboy with its shield raised, blocking the bullets that were fired off in its direction. Narrowing my focus onto it, I hit a couple grunts on the way as I dashed towards it, jumping on a nearby pool table to jump high enough to jump over the robots shield. I focused on my bat and channeled as much energy as I could into it, swinging it down on top of its head as I landed on its back.

The entire thing spasmed beneath me as its carapace dented from the impact and energy crackled through it, overloading its system. My eyes widened a little as I realized what the off feeling that was growing was, thinking that I was incredibly lucky to have lasted this long but also thinking that now was the WORST time for this to happen any minute.

“Uh, hey, cowboy!” I shouted down, hopping off the robot as it fell forward. A grunt tried to intercept me but I beat them off with a “Fuck off, dude, I’m busy!” as I trotted up to another group near the cowboy and started wacking them. “Uh, cowboy?”

“Kind of busy shootin’ sons of nice ladies, small-fry!” the cowboy replied, firing off a couple more shots before looking towards me. “Whaddya need?”

“So, I kind of have this… condition,” I hesitantly answered, grabbing a pool ball and smacking it with my baseball bat into the mask of an IPC grunt.

“Wha- are you forkin’ kiddin’ me?!” he snapped with an anger that caught me entirely off guard and would have led to me getting bodied if he didn’t shoot at the IPC nearest to me. “You wanna talk about some kind of forking terms and conditions while we’re in the middle of a muddle-fudging battle with IPC shirt-for-brains?!”

“What? No- No, what the fuck are you talking about? I’m talking about, like, medical conditions.”

“Aw shucks, ma bad.” The cowboy went from angry to apologetic fairly fast, though his voice was still tense as he continued firing. “Could yer condition wait until after we handle these forkers?”

“I don’t think so,” I replied, wacking another grunt. I felt mildly useless trying to stay relatively close to the cowboy because IPC was thinning around him, but I also didn’t want to charge out and get stepped on. I could feel my chest strain more as the Stellaron struggled to maintain my current size.“Unless you happen to have some Antimatter on you, which I highly doubt-.”

“Antimatter?” the cowboy asked in surprise.

“-then I’m just gonna need you to catch me before I hit the ground any minute now,” I finished, distracted trying to gauge the cowboy’s reaction. I didn’t notice the sound of footsteps that were closer than any of the other footsteps in the room, yelping when a sudden massive surge of electricity jolted through my side. With a fair amount of difficulty, I swung out at the grunt who hit me with a staff with an explosive charge of energy through the conduit of my bat.

It knocked them away successfully and allowed me a couple seconds for my body to handle the electrical charge going through it, but I both felt and saw that the Stellaron had reached its limit of maintaining my form, a couple of stray arcs of energy dissipating from my fingertips and bat glitching before disappearing from my grasp.

“Wuh oh.”

Like a star collapsing on itself, I yelped as one last burst of energy flared out from my body like a flashbang, finding myself only a couple inches tall a few feet in the air as my form collapsed and shrunk into my centerpoint.

“Shit,” I exclaimed, bracing myself to impact the tile floor below. It was a survivable fall due to my durability, but it definitely wouldn’t be a pleasant one, knowing from personal experience with a lot of soreness and bruising. However I found myself stopping short of the ground, hitting an arguably harder surface as I was scooped from the air in a metal hand. I was a bit dazed from the impact, not very helped by the cowboy being naturally loud.

“Well, holy forkeroni,” the cowboy said, grey and red eye zeroed in on me in his palm as I sat up. His attention was briefly pulled away and I was jostled as he spun and fired off a couple rounds while dodging a few IPC bullets. “That all ya got, you shirt-for-brains?! Yer ‘bout knee-high to a grasshopper, small-fry!”

“I- sure? I guess? Is there anywhere around where you could either put me down or maybe just get out of here,” I asked, trying to shake off the vertigo and look around to find a safe spot or clear route for him but he was moving too much for me to see well.

“Not with all these forkers ‘round, and I need both my darn hands to fudging deal with ‘em. Tch, hang on.”

“Al-right!” The last half of the word was a yelp as his hand lifted suddenly, making my stomach drop and causing a wave of dizziness as the force messed with the blood flow to my head. Blinking it away, my vision was once more shifted as I was tossed a brief moment into something. The sudden sequence of motion and change in scenery had me instinctively manifesting my baseball bat again, stopping the area around me from closing.

Gravity shifted around me again as I barely managed to hold onto my bat with one hand, my left shoulder straining as all my weight came down on it, falling from whatever small, dark area I'd nearly been tossed into. It wasn't until I noticed the two rows of massive, sharp teeth on either side of my bat and heard the surprised noise from the cowboy that I realized he'd just tried to toss me in his mouth.

“Aeon ‘arn it, ‘all-’ry! Ah-n ‘ryna ‘elp ya,” the cowboy mumbled loudly around the baseball bat currently locking his jaws open. His left hand was cupped beneath me, poised to catch me if I fell, and I saw fingers twitch like he was debating how to go about this.

Well, if I'd been given any sort of heads up, I wouldn't have ended up panicking as much as I had. There'd been an odd abundance of me being put in mouths, but this was probably the most chaotic and fast-paced to date.

“Nngh, hold on,” I said, trying to pull myself up enough to grab the bat with my right hand. Extremely difficult with him still running. A noise escaped my throat as his hand surged upwards, uncertain to what he was doing as I felt the tips of his index, middle, and thumb fingers press against my back.

My world blurred as the cowboy suddenly halted on his heel and spun to avoid what I could only guess was a swing from a staff from the streak of grey and orange that streaked by. In the simultaneous moment that a gunshot went off so close that it could only be from the cowboy I found my grip forced from the baseball bat as the fingertips against my back pinched the back of my hoodie and yanked me from the two walls of teeth that were now below as I was lifted from the cowboy’s face.

With the most still thing in comparison to everything else being the cowboy, it was incredibly easy for me to focus on his jaws as they snapped shut around my tiny baseball bat, the manifestation shattering between the shark teeth and dissipating into cosmic sparks.

I caught a brief glimpse of the cowboy smiling before he opened wide again and I found myself popped inside before I could really process anything past the daze of being jostled around so much. In fact, it was almost a relief when the pseudo-bone clicked close behind me, allowing me a reprieve from the chaos of being dangled around and shot at.

It was warm and humid with the tongue beneath me surprisingly soft considering the mechanical nature of its host. It wasn't offensively pungent but the space smelt of oil, grease, and other more chemical scents that brought to mind repairing robots in Belebog.

Something clung to me like saliva, likely some kind of lubricant.

I was expecting some amount of tasting or slickening up considering that was necessary - to a point - so that whoever was eating me wouldn’t end up choking on me. But, I guess it wasn’t needed for the cyborg because I instantly found the space around me tilting.

“A-Ack, give me a mom-ent,” I yelped out as the tongue flexed beneath me in preparation for the imminent swallow, squashing me flat against the roof of his mouth. I was barely given a split second as the tongue pushed me back and I felt the throat entrance seize around my ankles in a gulp.

I'm not even sure if his throat actually made the sound of the swallow around me or if it was just a habitual noise from his voice box, carrying a slightly robotic undertone like when he spoke.

As I was pulled into the embrace of his gullet, it felt bizarrely close to being eaten by, for lack of a better term, an organic person. Whatever material that lined his throat was just as claustrophobic as a normal esophagus and almost as pliable as actual flesh. From what little I could gather from the small amount of exposed skin I had, it felt like some sort of rubber.

The cowboy didn't reply to me and I was barely out of his mouth when he exhaled around me with a gruff growl, my surroundings rumbling as he shouted, “‘lright, you muddle-fudgers! Let's forkin’ finish this!”

He was, understandably, far more concerned with fighting the remaining IPC. However, I feel like my ears would have burst if I had been a normal human.

“Which one of you shirt-bags wants to be first in line for a bullet?!”

I felt his body shift and twist chaotically as I slipped past what constituted his collarbone, everything muffling a bit from layers of metal and whatever a mechanical creature would count as internal organs. It was definitely surreal.

It got warmer the deeper I was pulled down like the insides of someone organic, but less slimy or stuffy. Instead of slipping past a beating heart and the breathing of lungs, the somewhat muffled chaos outside overplayed with the sound of whirring fans and mechanical parts shifting against each other as the cowboy moved erratically.

It wasn't long before I was ejected from the relative sturdiness of his esophagus. I didn't realize how much the cowboy was running and dodging until I slipped into a small chamber and immediately started being bounced around the space like a ping pong ball.

Fortunately, it seemed like the walls were made of the same flexible material at his throat. Unfortunately, the space wasn't completely empty. I felt other… bits bounce around with me, unable to make heads or tails of any of it while essentially inside the living bouncy house.

I'm not sure how long I spent tumbling around as the cowboy shouted mother-sanctioned insults at the IPC and fired shot after shot while I can only assume backflipping the entire time based on how much I was being shaken. Eventually, everything stopped and I was flopped onto the floor of the chamber. I felt like I was going to get bruises in places where I didn't even think bruises were possible.

“Ah, hell. You aight in there, small-fry?” I was pulled from my dazed stupor by one side of the chamber being pushed in slightly and the cowboys voice above. For someone who, in the minutes I'd known him, seemed reckless and unabashedly brazen he actually sounded a bit sheepish. “Reck’n I prolly shook you up more than the tail end of a rattler.”

“You’re fine,” I replied, slowly pushing myself off the floor of the chamber. Something gritty clung to my hands with the help of lubricant and whatever other small puddle of liquid that shared the space with me. I flicked my hands in instinctive disgust to try and get rid of the feeling.

“You're takin’ this pretty well.”

“This ain't the first time I've been eaten,” I sighed as I mustered the energy to summon a spark to take stock of my surroundings now that I wasn't tumbling around everywhere. “Definitely the most chaotic though.”

“What the fridge? I woulda thought that your biggest concern woulda been finding yerself under some ash-voles boot,” I felt the space begin to shift and sway as I looked around, probably from him starting to walk or something. The walls were dark gray and seemed to be made of the same rubbery material as his throat, and around me was a thin coating of some kind of thick, grainy, gray substance that had the glint of metal scattered around.

That explained the shallow cuts I could see on my hands now.

“I can't say that being stepped on hasn't been a concern,” I replied, frowning in confusion at the gritty stuff around me. Spurred on by curiosity I ran my finger through the substance and gave it a cautious sniff. I'd noticed the somewhat pungent scent permeating the space but wasn't able to recognize what it was until I got a closer smell. Dulled by the potent sting of what smelled like malt juice diluted by lubricant, the grains smelt of something that reminded me of explosives, I scrunched my face in confused surprise. “Is this fucking GUNPOWDER?!”

“Mmmhm,” the cowboy let out a pleased hum like remembering a particularly delicious snack. “Nine millimeter, baby. Had a couple earlier. Might sorry ‘bout the clutter, but didn't exactly have time to clean house before fighting the muddle-fudgin’ IPC.”

“I… I don't know what I was expecting a cyborg to eat, but it wasn't bullets,�� I sighed, cleaning my hand off on my jacket. “Eh, whatever. Can you let me out and help me get to the Astral Express please?”

“Ehhh,” the space tilted and squished a little, only able to assume that he crouched down. Guessing the guys habits, I wouldn't be surprised if he was seeing if any of the IPC had anything worthwhile on them. “I can take you to your train, but ya might need a mechanic.”

“Wait, what? Why?” I asked, frowning in confusion.

“‘Cause I can't just make myself vomit on command,” the cowboy replied, able to feel him stand up. “So unless your folks have a mechanic or something to make me spit ya out, we might be stuck up a shirt creek without a paddle until I come across another mechanic.”

I blinked in the dark space, part of me appalled at the news. However, this was weirdly enough also not my first time stuck inside someone who couldn't just cough me up considering Sampo.

“Please, for the love of the Aeons, just get to the train and find Dan Heng.”

#cinnwrites #g/t #safe vore #soft vore #g/t vore #nova #honkai star fail #boothill

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