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a-scary-lack-of-common-sense · 5 months ago

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More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

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+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

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Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

#i only have the Paris and Korean subways as frame reference so i have no idea what american subways look like #just imagine the paris subway system- i heavily used it as a reference to draw and write these since it's #the only subway that I know AND looks 1980-ish enough to pass #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls au #<-ig???#there are mirrors in subways right- I've seen a lot of curved wall length mirrors at subway stations #stanley pines #stan pines #grunkle stan #stanley's sketchbook #tw liminal space #tw horror #<- I mean eh- my horror writing skills is sub par at best #cats #tw scopophobia #tw staring #on the other hand- stanley being friends with street cats!! so cute <33 #you can visibly SEE in the fic where I completely lost my grip on the story from 'sweet story about cats' to 'oh my god what the fuck'#my art

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thefreakandthehair · 3 months ago

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cabin.

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompts: cabin | wc: 699 | rating: teen & up | tags: steve pov, steve harrington has a crush on eddie munson, good uncle wayne, sharing body heat, one bed, fluff, getting together

Wayne and Eddie have been so accommodating, so kind, and almost embarrassingly welcoming to him joining their annual ice fishing road trip to Michigan that asking for an extra blanket feels criminal. With how much they’ve opened their arms to him after his parents all but ghosted for the holiday season, he’d rather freeze to death in this fucking cabin than dare to ask for something as stupid as an extra blanket. Besides, the cabin is small enough that he and Eddie are sharing a room; eventually, he’ll come to bed, feel how cold it is for himself, and go grab extra blankets on his own.

He’ll survive for as long as it takes for Eddie and Wayne to finish the spaghetti western they’d been watching when he came to bed.

Steve’s been through worse.

Cool moonlight streams in beneath the thick, plaid curtains and illuminates the far wall, accentuating its wooden details and the knickknacks lining the shelves— a collection of small, handmade stuffed wildlife, framed photos of the lake, books with worn spines well-loved over the years. It’s a quiet space, a sanctuary that Steve’s never had even if he might lose a few toes.

Is the cabin the sanctuary? Or is it the rare time alone with Eddie?

He tries not to think about how many times he’s thought of this over the last couple years, how often he’s laid in bed imagining Eddie coming to bed with him and not just in the ways that make him squirm and sweat. He’s pictured it a hundred times over: Eddie sneaking in beneath the covers, trying not to wake him up but it’s not like Eddie has ever been smooth a day in his life. Steve would wake up from a light sleep, turning over to welcome him in and pull him close, wrinkling his nose against Eddie’s frizzy curls as he buries his face in Steve’s neck. He’d listen to him breathe, feel his body grow heavier and heavier against Steve’s and fall asleep to the even cadence of his heartbeat.

Steve takes a deep breath and shakes his head, focusing instead on the organic spirals and swirls of the logs that make up the cabin walls. With heavy-lidded eyes that grow heavier despite the cold, he traces the markings and imagines patterns and pictures in them the way he had the starts as a kid. One looks like a moose without its antlers, another like an abstract palm tree. He doesn’t find a third one, and falls asleep trying.

When he wakes up a couple of hours later, Steve’s warm.

Extra blankets, soft wool, weigh him down and he sighs into the comforting presence that engulfs him. One tattooed arm rests over his hip and another squeezes beneath his pillow, a hand outstretched with silver rings that cover each finger and gleam in the slivers of light that continue to creep in between the curtains. Blinking his eyes open and biting the inside of his cheek to make sure he’s not dreaming, Steve realizes the warmth he’d woken up chasing is Eddie.

Do I move over? Does he realize I’m not a pillow? Does he actually want this the way I want this? Did I die of hypothermia after all? Does he—

“You think really loud, Steve,” Eddie whispers into the dark, his lips moving against Steve’s hair as he squeezes him gently around the middle. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm,” Steve hums. “You’re so warm.”

“Good, you were shivering when I came to bed.” He feels Eddie chuckle behind him, quiet breaths against his neck. He wants to turn around, to tuck himself into Eddie’s comfort and maybe just never leave.

“Didn’t wanna bother you or Wayne for another blanket. Kinda glad I didn’t now,” Steve admits, words slurring as his shoulders sag. He wiggles back, trying to get impossibly closer.

“We’ll talk more about that in the morning.” Eddie squeezes a knee between Steve’s and tangles their legs together.

Steve nods wordlessly, pulling the top blanket further up beneath his chin.

The last thing he remembers before drifting back to a dream that has no chance of rivaling reality is the feeling of Eddie’s lips against his temple.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steddieholidaydrabbles #myblurbs #missed a few days because life but i'm baaaaack!!#will i ever move these to ao3? who's to say

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sparklykaminarii · 11 months ago

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☆ JJK MEN GUILTY PLEASURES ☆

[•~featuring: Satoru, Suguru, Sukuna, Choso~•]

[•~a/n: ideas? and not proofread :)~•]

|| SATORU GOJO || ☆ hidden album ☆

satoru never hid anything from you. he was very open and wouldn't hesitate if you ever asked him if you could look through his phone. nothing was on there anyway. but there was one specific album he kept hidden from you. he wasn't ever going to show it you it, he was taking it to the grave. just imagine your reaction to an album full of lewd erotic pictures of just you...

stomach resting on top of a couple of pillows to keep you steady, your head being pushed down into the mattress as satoru rails you from the back. the firm grip he has on your hip roughens as he nears his release. while you babble about how good it felt and how close you were. satoru's thrust rapidly change from rhythmic to sloppy. "where ya want it?" he grunts, the edge of his orgasm growing closer and closer.

"b-back!" you mewl, the pitch of your voice trailing higher as you reach your own orgasm. the darkness covering your eyes as you fall into a deep state of pure bliss. satoru chuckles hoarsely, and mumbles something along the lines of "anything for my dirty girl-" he pulls out of you, your cum and lubricating his cock as he begins to jerk himself off, aiming for your back. as he does he swiftly grabs his phone from beside him. the sound of his fists hitting his abs rings in your ears as he feels his orgasm take over.

long pearly white strings of cum coat your back. satoru's breathing goes heavy, as he quickly snaps a photo of the dirty sight before. seeing you completely ruined but his own cum was so attractive to him. after, he helps clean you up, completely leaving you oblivious of his dirty little photo, which he will be jerking off too when you leave.

|| SUGURU GETO || ☆ seeing ur tears ☆

usually suguru would hate to see you cry. the sight of seeing you so distressed made his heart ache. he couldn't bear to see your tear stained face, glossy glass eyes, and tears still running down your face. it was cruel. unless it was because of him. suguru hates to admit it. he loves it whenever he sees you tearing up because his cock was hitting the back of your throat so harshly.

"mm- slow down!" you exclaim, suguru pounding your mouth harshly. "nah take it" he grunts coldly. gaze on you darkens as the grip his has on your hair increases, sure to keep intense tangles. the way the tip of his cock would hit the back of your throat, making you gag loudly every time, it was sure to leave your voice raspy the next morning.

the sensations of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and the gagging, alongside with the rough harsh grip he has on your hair. it was so overwhelming and harsh. and you loved it. but it also made your eyes fill up with tears. your glossy shiny eyes looking up at suguru so innocently as he abused your mouth. ohh it turned him one so muchh

suguru smirks cockily, "aw... are ya cryin sweetie?" he coos, mocking you with an overly caring yet sarcastic tone. you roll your eyes which only fueled suguru ego and encouraged him to increase his thrusts. "pathetic crybaby." he groans a finger sliding under your eye wiping away the tears that were streaming down your face. "oh ill be makin sure those eyes roll, alright." he mumbled while pulling out your mouth. let's just say you were sobbing by the end of the night.

|| RYOMEN SUKUNA || ☆ brat taming ☆

being a brat with sukuna usually never ends well for you. usually ends with you being denied an orgasm for hours upon hours. or you would be cumming every 10 minutes. no breaks or anything. he would exhaust you so much were you would be so cock drunk you could only think about obeying him. sukuna hated to admit it. but he loved it. he loved it when you be a brat. it made him feel so powerful. knowing only he could put you in your place.

you were on your knees, the cold hardwood floors sending shivers down your spine. you were giving sukuna head or at least supposed to be. but you decided to play a dangerous game. you stroke sukunas cock slowly, placing small kitten licks all over the leaky pink tip which was covered in milky translucent precum. your tongue traced the veins of his shaft. you looked up at sukuna, who looked down at you, catching on to your ideas.

he looked down at you, with a dangerous glare. "don't be a fuckin brat." he warns. you look back up at him, your doe eyes looking up at him feigning innocence. you continue with your activities, tracing the veins on his shaft with your tongue. they were a pretty muted aquamarine which was on the greener side. you could feel them pulsate with anticipation.

"y'think you're funny?" sukuna questions, bending down to get to eye level with you. "open ya fucking mouth" he commands, aiming his cock at your lips. you open your mouth and instantly feel it get filled. sukuna groans loudly as he feels your mouth surround him. not stopping for a moment before thrusting in and out, facefucking you harshly."could've had it easy and just do what I told you to." he say, watching as you gag on his cock. "always gotta teach ya how to be good." he groans, now holding a handful of your hair. "fucking slut, needa be put in her place." he grunts, thrusts getting more and more rapid. sukuna was sure when he was done with you, you'll be a brand new person.

|| CHOSO KAMO || ☆ panty stealing ☆

before you and choso had met. he had no experience with sex at all. he knew it was to reproduce. but that was it. he had some knowledge on how it worked, yet he never understood why humans were so infatuated with the activity. that all changed though when he met you. specifically when you showed him why humans loved the concept. he understood the desires. and now became addicted to your sweet cunt. he just couldn't get enough of your cunt milking his cock, or the delicious taste of your pussy. but you had a life to attend to. so you couldn't come help choso out whenever he needed to feel those waves of ecstacy you brought him. but choso had an idea. a very dirty one

choso gulped nervously, he knew this was wrong. it was so erotic, lewd and perverted. and you didn't even know about choso's antics. he walked into your shared bedroom, pushing away the strong rays of guilt he felt. he walks over to the dresser, contemplating if he could wait just until you came home. he huffs and places a shaky hand on the handle of the bottom drawer. he slowly pulls the drawer open, revealing rows of folded panties, nice and neat. but the one that caught choso's eye was the red lacy one you wore the first night you guys fucked.

choso grabs the panties shakily, holding them in his hand for a moment before walking over towards the bed. he felt so perverted for what he was about to do. he sits on the edge of the bed, hastily yanking his sweatpants off. he rubs the panty on his clothed cock, letting out breathy shudders from the sudden sensation. choso pulls his boxers down, freeing his leaky tipped cock. he rubbed a finger around the tip, collecting the precum and coats his whole shaft with it, imagining it was your saliva or your arousal. he begins to pump his fist up and down, panty still in hand. he imagined it was your walls that suffocated him so tightly.

choso groans loudly, getting lost in the pleasure he was feeling. your panty was practically soaking with his precum while he thrusts into his fist. choso imagined it was your delicate gentle hands wrapped around his dick, imagining the way your tongue would trace his veins and lick all around his tip. the sights choso saw in his head made him let out whiney whimpers. after a little while choso felt his release approach him steadily. mumbles of your name left his lips as the pace of his hands went quicker, his eyes closed shut. the overwhelming sensation of bliss engulfed him as he reached his long awaited orgasm. he grabs your panty and cums all over it. thick but steady spurts of slight opaque cream colored cum decorates your panty. choso lets out one last hoarse groan before hearing the front door close, accompanied with a sweet "Chooo im home!!" how was he gonna explain this to you??

dividers by: @benkeibear

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meanbossart · 1 year ago

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Pin!

Hi, I'm RJ (Male, 28 years old) I'm a -usually- horror oriented artist and collaborator alongside my partner and better-half @barbatusart, though I'm currently on a Baldur's Gate 3/DnD streak with both my art and writing, specifically centered around the Dark Urge I created for my campaign and his antics, so that's most of what you will find here!

I want to leave a warning right here that I occasionally venture into delicate topics in regards to character lore and history - though none of it strays too far from what the game already delves into and I try to give a heads-up ahead of time whenever I feel like something might catch someone off-guard otherwise.

PATREON WHERE I POST WIPS, SKETCHES, UNRELEASED ART, ALL OF MY NSFW CONTENT, ETC : patreon.com/meanbossart/

MY INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/meanboss_art/

TWITCH WHERE I STREAM SOMETIMES: twitch.tv/meanboss14

PSA: I get a lot of asks and I'm slow to go through them, please don't take it personally :U

Anyway, here's the guy of the hour:

🚨FAQ BELOW🚨

Q: Does your Durge have a name? A: Nope! I named him "drow" when I played the game because I didn't feel like thinking up anything special. His lack of a name has become part of the character's lore and you will find him to always be tagged with "DU drow", or referred to as The Drow or just Drow.

Q: Where can I read your BG3 fan-fiction? And what is it about? A: Right here! The main plot follows DU Drow, Astarion, and Shadowheart on a new adventure that fractures into a couple of different directions, but mainly focuses on the aftermath of the spawn that Astarion has released and the personal development of the main cast, alongside a number of original characters that get involved in the narrative. My goal was to create a kind of "DLC" experience, so you can expect a lot of themes that parallel the main game.

Q: Can I draw one of your characters, a scene from your story, or any of your characters interacting with mine/other characters? And can it be NSFW in nature? A: YOU ABSOLUTELY CAN, AND I'LL BE DELIGHTED TO SEE IT IF YOU CARE TO SHARE. I'm equally fine with NSFW as long as everyone involved (in the art and otherwise) is an adult.

Q: What drawing software/tablet/brushes do you use? A: I draw on a Wacom Cintiq 22, using Clip Studio Pro. I switch around brushes quite often but most of what I use comes from the DAUB super-bundle by Paolo Limoncelli.

Q: Where can I find more of your work? A: You can find mine and my partner's comics here, but please bear in mind that most of it is highly violent stuff and you should read the content warnings on the store page carefully before making any purchases - if in doubt of whether or not any of it could be detrimental to your mental health, DON'T BUY IT. Stay safe!

Q: Do you take commissions? A: I am not currently taking any new commission inquiries, sorry!

#text #pin

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14dayswithyou · 10 months ago

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💖 Day 3.5 is now available! 💖

For the last couple of months, only Server Boosters had access to the 3.5 update... Buuuuut now it's available for everyone to play in the 14DWY Discord — and soon itch.io once I'm happy with the QA and state of the game — so please don't feel pressured to join unless you want to!!

The full devlog + even more screenshots are under the cut ^^

What's been added to the 3.5 version?

📺 Streamer Mode!

I've been told that it's difficult to stream and monetise age-restricted videos on YouTube and Twitch, so I added an option to remove the sexual content and strong language used in the demo.

Now y'all can invite Ren into your bed for cuddles without putting your streamer career on the line /silly /lh

This won't affect the 18+ rating or dark themes/elements of the game, however! Although Streamer Mode will prevent you from seeing any "gruesome" CGs in the future, most of the core elements of the game will still be tied to the choices and decisions you make. So you won't miss out on the overall experience by using streamer mode!!

⚙️ Custom Pronouns!

It only took me one entire year to get around to it, but you can finally choose your own preferred pronouns (or use a set of pronouns instead)... At the cost of being able to change them mid-game ^^;

Since the original pronoun screen wouldn't update until a new scene was displayed, I temporarily disabled the feature. But once I find a workaround, I'll bring it back!

💗 Choose how others perceive you!

You can now choose how the cast and narration perceive you! Originally, the narration was kept strictly gender-neutral (outside of pronouns and genitalia picked by the player), but this will soon change in future updates.

For more clarity: you don't get to choose the words specifically, but you can choose between masculine, feminine, and androgynous terms!

📋 Separate top and bottom genitalia!

You can now choose your tatas and pps separately! >:3

Alongside that, you can also choose your preferred body type!

I removed the "both" genitalia option because a few players still assumed it was an obscure version of "intersex". That wasn't my intention and I don't want to mislead anyone, so I took it out for now ^^;

I also didn't want to include a screenshot of the new genitalia choices in action (because it's NSFW), so y'all get the same character menu screen for the nth time instead lmao

📱 Relationship Screen Overhaul!

You can now change your own status for more immersion, and long-term Server Boosters will eventually be able to submit and use their own icon within the game as well!

Stalking finding your friends has now become easier by using "Buddy Maps"; a new app that allows you to see the location of all the cast members!

I want to offer players more incentive to check the relationship screen since they tend to miss the status updates, so hopefully this might help ;v;

It also says it "updates every few hours" so folks don't go overboard and check every 5 seconds to see where Ren is gdsghf (also keep in mind that he's a hacker lol)

🖤 Additional Scenes Update!

Day 2 received a brand new CG!!!!! Originally, I planned on only adding a few CGs sporadically throughout the game, but it didn't feel right to leave Day 2 so... empty... so I added a brand new CG to (hopefully) make things feel more balanced and natural!

If you decline Teo's offer on Day 3, Leon will now call and try to convince you to reconsider. However, players are still allowed to decline, and if they do, they'll reach a dead end.

After listening to feedback on itch, I changed some of the dialogue during Days 1-3 to make it seem more consistent! They're only small changes though, so it's honestly not worth looking for sdgjssga

🎶 Updated BGM and SFX!

I wanted to try out a different style of music to see if it fits the vibe of 14DWY more! The BGM features more acoustics to suit the "beachy" theme of Corland Bay, though I made a conscious effort to include piano elements as well to stay true to the original!!

I figured it'd be better to give players a live example before I make a poll (to see if they prefer the change or not) and publish it to Itch.

Some new SFX have also been added, though it's very minimal and honestly not that noticeable.

How to download and play the update?

(warning: clicking on the following links will open Discord!!) To download the Day 3.5 update, simply join the 14DWY Discord server, verify your age, and visit the "14dwy-updates" channel!

Alternatively, you can also wait until the update is publicly released on Itch to play it as well!! (It normally gets released shortly after a round of QA testing/getting feedback from the server, though I may release it earlier if I feel like it hehe ^^)

Enjoy!!

#14 days with you #14dwy #💖 — 14 days with queue.#🖤 — updates.#🖤 — spoilers.#I'm not gonna say much about my current doxxing situation because I've got it under control now + it's being handled privately #Plus I don't wanna give it/the people involved any unnecessary attention. I just wanna announce the update and Get Back To It™️#(''it'' bein the grind 💪 It never stops lmao /silly)#OG followers will also know that these topics aren't the vibe I normally have on this blog (or any of my accounts); so I don't think I'll—#—make ANOTHER public post about the situation and bring more attention to it (when I just want everything to be over and put to rest ^^;)#However I also don't want people to think that I'm... ignoring?? the situation entirely (because gettin doxxed is a very endangering thing)#So I DO want to quickly acknowledge it here and say that it's all currently handled + I'm safe and okay + this won't stop me from—#—continuing to work on 14DWY (and other future projects). I also don't want to give these awful people more power and incentive to continue #—this kind of pathetic behaviour; so the less attention and encouragement being shown will ultimately be better in the long run :3 #Aaaaaanways!! 😮‍💨#My other accounts will be restored shortly and my askbox will be opened once I feel comfortable. I'll get around to following folks—#—again in my own time; so please don't feel offended if I unfollowed you during a moment of vulnerability and anxiety!!#This is all EXTREMELY overwhelming and scary for someone with SAD/AvPD; and I /gen can't handle seeing it all over my timeline ;v;#Sorry this got ranty and personal again hjdsgjsdh T_T I said I wouldn't say much; so I'll shut up now hehe #🖤 — shut up sai.

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seung-mong · 3 months ago

Text

☆han - super graphic ultra modern girl!☆

the first installment in seung-mong's kinktober 2024!

synopsis: han thinks hes seeing things. he usually enjoys camping by himself, but when a bright light and a high pitched noise makes his head throb and his nose bleed, he genuinely thinks he could die. now he REALLY thinks hes seeing things because.. is that someone falling from the sky? after deciding to sleep on it (passing out), he meets you. and uh, oh yea. he's definitely seeing things! "it doesnt matter tho, he'll never have what it takes to be with a girl like me!"

includes: loser nerd PERV!han x alien fem!reader, subby hanji, han jisung is a SIMP LOSER he is so desperate its silly, mention of bondage, use of some kind of aphrodisiac, its really nasty and sloppy bc han jisung has a spit kink i didnt say it i mean i did but i uhm anyway

wc: 10 k WOAH

a/n: wanna know what this super hot alien baddie is saying? use this! thanks for being so patient. i love u

han jisung sweeps back the stray strands of hair that have fallen across his forehead, the thin layer of sweat making it stick uncomfortably against his skin. his brows are furrowed, eyes squinted against the harsh rays of the sun.

he could have picked a better spot to set up camp, but he's far too lazy to pack everything up and find another place. besides, he risks losing this perfectly fine clearing in between the thick of the trees. he supposes its decent enough, close enough to the stream so he could make several trips back and forth to refill his canteen.

he wishes minho was with him, though. he's not really that used to camping alone. by now, minho and him would be fishing for dinner. instead, han decided to pack as many canned foods and prepped sandwiches he could to last him the next couple of days. he never had much luck with fishing anyway.

honestly, you would have thought he was being forced to do this all alone! he shakes off the thought, promising himself that he was completely fine with the fact. he digs for his fishing hat in the duffel bag he proceeds to unceremoniously toss into his tent.

"first order of business, build a fire." he speaks out loud to himself. he jolts back as if surprised by the own sound of his voice, then chuckles to himself.

"okay this is a little weeeeeird," he shakes his head, eyes trained on the ground for any promising branches he could use for his supply.

"hm, not that weird? people talk to themselves all the time." he shrugs, bending down with a squeak as he grabs a couple of logs, then tucks them under his arm.

"nah, its weeeeeird. you're here all alone in the middle of the woods and talking to yourself. OUT LOUD. like a full on conversation. as if there are two parties exchanging information. YOU'RE ALL ALONE. and you're still talking out loud...." he continues to yap to himself, the only other sound besides his voice is the satisfying crunch of the leaves under his boots. he decides that bones crushing would sound similar.

"okay, that was a weird thought. do you need help? hahaha"

he cringes when his voice echoes.

he takes a deep breath and holds it, letting it out only when he feels the familiar burn in his chest. he shakes his head, chuckling at himself.

he wonders how long it will take for him to break.

by his eighth hour alone, han jisung feels like he's going just a little crazy. at first, he thought he was hearing voices. it turned out to be his own. talking. out loud. into the darkness of his tent.

he sits against the pole supporting his tent in the middle, knees to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. he finally got to reading the beaten up copy of pride and prejudice that hyunjin lent him, but after reading the same sentence eight times over and over again, he yelled out loud, scaring himself in the process, and chucked the book to the other end of his sleeping bag.

"i should sleep," he groans, looking out into the dark of the forest.

"but its at such an awkward time!" he whines, rubbing his face in frustration. "if i sleep now i'll wake up soooo earlyyyy."

"but im so bored!"

han groans, turning around to lean his head against the wooden pole. he stays like that for a while, chewing on his bottom lip. he's been silent for too long, the ringing in his ears is getting louder and louder.

"fine! i'll go for a walk!" he clasps his hands together before pushing himself off the ground, grumbling to himself as he pulls on his padded jacket and slips into his thick boots. he double checks the burner he used to heat up his dinner is off, and zips up his tent.

it's way too cold for him to be out here right now. han immediately realizes his mistake a good mile away from his camp when a shiver runs down his spine the third time in a row within a five minute interval. the hand holding his flashlight is shaking violently, the other hand tucked tightly in the pocket of his padded jacket.

he's starting to overthink, the eerie silence and his wild imagination running in the dark as he ignores the weight that's started to settle in his chest. he feels as if someone's watching him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention. he shakes his head.

for the most part, han loves being alone. he always more of an introvert, treasuring his alone time. he loves spending time by himself, getting to recharge and do things on his own without that icky feeling of being perceived by others.

he spends most of his hours alone.

he knows how it feels.

which is why he knows he's not alone right now.

in the dark of the woods where the trees are thicker, taller. he swallows the fear, chalking it up to his mind playing games on him. maybe there is such a thing as too much alone time.

"okay, i think thats enough for tonight." he announces into the darkness of the woods.

before he can turn around, a sharp ringing sound pierces his ears. its too loud, too high in pitch. han falls to his knees, flashlight falling onto the ground as his hands rush to cover the sides of his head, palms flat in an attempt to block out the high-pitched ringing.

he's never felt this sensation before, almost as if the soundwaves have entered his brain and proceed to jump all around. his head is pounding and he falls forward into the dirt, knees tucked into his chest in a fetal position.

he thinks hes going to die, truthfully. he faintly registers the fact that his hands have grown wet with what he can only assume is blood. its thick and warm and trickling in between the gaps of his fingers. he's beyond dizzy, eyes scrunching up in pain as he tries desperately to gather himself.

he has to get out of here.

there are tears coming out from his eyes at the pain, but through the thick blurry fog of his tears, he sees a beam of light coming down from the otherwise dark sky. the light blue light casts a shadow, the leaves of the trees dancing on the forest floor.

han thinks hes about to pass out. his skin is covered in goosebumps, and the sharp ringing in his ears have reduced to a dull hum. he blinks slowly, resting on his back as he accepts his fate.

he's dying and god is waiting to pick up his soul, casting a heavenly light down onto his poor, withered, totally dead body. he stares directly into the beam of light that hovers over him. a dark silhouette appears to come down to him, long flowing hair rustling in the wind, arms reaching out to him.

"are you... my guardian angel?" he chokes out once the shadow creeps closer, close enough for him to make out the features of the creature's face through half-lidded eyes.

"beautiful," he whispers, closing his eyes and awaiting the sweet kiss of death.

okay, maybe he was being a little dramatic.

he realizes this now when he jolts awake, leaves crunching under his body from the sudden movement. he's disoriented, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes as he takes in his surroundings.

he doesnt remember falling asleep in the middle of the woods. han's known for being able to fall asleep anywhere, but on the cold, hard, ground? out in the open? where animals could have feasted on him? thats just plain silly.

he sits up, and he's met with a sharp throbbing pain in his head. he lets out a grunt, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to collect himself. he looks around, his flashlight dead beside him. how the hell did he get out here?

he follows the trail back to his camp after walking down to the stream and splashing his face with the cold water, body aching and head still pounding. he considers wrapping this camping trip up and taking the rest of his leave from work in his cozy one bedroom apartment, safe from mosquitoes and ear-splitting ringing and lights from the heavens.

his tent looks normal enough once he finds the clearing, but the nearer he approaches, the more the hairs on his arms stand at attention. he's 100% sure he remembered to zip up the entrance to his tent. the entrance which is now wide open, the flap tucked neatly under a couple of stones.

he feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach, throat closing up as the dread starts to settle deep in his chest. he swears he remembers locking up properly before going on a walk. he approaches his tent as quietly as he can, fingers clamped tight around the base of his flashlight, ready to swing it as hard as he can at whoever the hell has invaded his territory.

he peeks his head in, his mouth dropping at the sight.

it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

suddenly, he recalls the events that happened right before he passed out. the loud ringing, the flash of light, his guardian angel.

who's standing inside of his tent. completely naked.

ohmygod, he did die. he's in heaven right now.

he drops his flashlight, mouth opening before he can rationally make a decision.

"hey! you'r-" he's cut off by the zap of electricity that comes once you lock eyes with him, a heat that spreads throughout his whole body and renders him speechless. and for the second time within twelve hours han jisung feels himself collapse on the ground before darkness takes over his vision.

the first thing he feels is the cold. and then the sharp stinging in his cheek. his eyes fly open, and he immediately feels the pain all over his body.

he has never felt this beaten up before.

and then he feels the sharpness on his wrists. he attempts to move one, before he realizes he's tied up. he sits up straighter now, pulling at the rope thats tied tightly against his wrists, binding him to the pole in the middle of his tent.

if he's in heaven, why the fuck does it hurt so much?

"⍙⊑⍜ ⏃⍀⟒ ⊬⍜⎍ ⏃⋏⎅ ⍙⊑⍜ ⎅⍜ ⊬⍜⎍ ⍙⍜⍀☍ ⎎⍜⍀?"

jisung turns towards the source of the weird gibberish to find you sitting calmly on the edge of his bed.

he should be scared. but you're far too beautiful for him to register any actual threat.

you look human enough, your skin could pass as one, no ridges or bumps or patterns or scales to suggest otherwise. but there's something off-putting about your face. your features are too symmetrical, bug-like eyes narrowed and sitting too close to one another. your ears are way too small, especially now as your hair steers clear from your face. its subtle, the way a person could glance at you and not be suspicious. but the longer jisung stares at you, the more his fears are confirmed.

you're not from around here.

"w-what?" jisung whimpers, as if you would be able to understand him.

the look you give him sends a shiver down his spine.

you rise to your full height, top of your head bumping against the roof of his tent. you're definitely taller than him. then his eyes fall to the rest of your body, which, he might add, is completely bare. your skin is smooth all the way down to your pelvis, an even tone except for the area above your pelvis which turns a little darker.

he should be alarmed by the fact that your body is different from that of an average woman, noting in awe at the smooth plane of skin where your belly button should be.

but all he can think about is the fact that he's got a hot... being... standing in the middle of his room.

"eng,,,english?" your voice is small when you ask, as if you're unsure yourself.

han only nods.

you make a sound, and han can only assume you're cursing by the way your brows furrow and your eyes shut in frustration.

"english... not so good." you mumble, scanning the room for something.

"i'd say its pretty good." han squeaks.

you stare at him blankly. you walk around his tent, stepping over his legs and picking up everything you see. he watches you examine the pots he used to make his dinner before setting them gently on the ground.

he cant believe he's letting this happen to him. he watches in horror as you dig through his bag, taking out all the clothes he's brought on the trip. you're quite literally prodding around his personal belongings, and he's watching you, letting you, with a chub in his pants.

is he sick?

in his defense, you're completely naked in front of him, bending over and exposing yourself to him. han's always been known to have... different sexual preferences. admittedly, hes a little bit of a freak. to put it quite bluntly, he's into that supernatural shit. he's not afraid to say it! he digs that tentacle shit. he briefly wonders whether or not you possess some kind of supernatural abilities. he's read all about them. aphrodisiac slick? tentacle's hidden in between your legs? oooo does your tongue-

you make a sound of surprise before picking up the book he'd abandoned last night, excitedly turning to him.

"⟟⌇ ⏁⊑⟟⌇ ⌇⍜⋔⟒ ☍⟟⋏⎅ ⍜⎎ ⌇⏃☊⍀⟒⎅ ⏁⟒⌖⏁?" you hold the book in your hand as you sink to your knees beside him.

"i-m sorry i dont understand," jisung whispers.

you huff in frustration. "what... you do... this?"

jisung tries to understand your broken english. "oh! you uhm.. you read?" he nods towards the book in your hands, moving his head back and forth to show you that you have to open the flap, turn to the next page.

you tilt your head in confusion. you start to mimic his movements, moving your head back and forth in the same motion. jisung has to bite his lip from laughing.

"look, i could help you but you tied me up, so..." jisung nods towards his restraints.

you study his face for a long moment. "you.... harm?"

jisung shakes his head so violently he can feel his brain moving. "no. no harm. promise."

you give him one last look from head to toe before slowly nodding. you inch closer to his chest, arms wrapping around him to reach for the painful knot that keeps him hostage. han lets out a sigh of relief once the tie loosens, shaking the ache away from his hands.

you continue to stare at him, slightly backing away as he reaches for the book on the ground.

"you read it. like this, see?" han opens up the book on the page he had dog-eared last night, gliding his finger across the page to highlight the words.

you make a weird rumble sound from deep in your chest, eagerly snatching the book away from him. your brows furrow as you attempt to read, slowly sounding out the letters under your breath. han watches you, eyes trailing from your wide eyes to the purse of your lips as you read. they fall to even more dangerous territory down to your chest, and the smooth skin of your stomach, to the space between your thighs.

"oh!" he squeaks, awkwardly clearing his throat after catching your attention. "you should put on some clothes. you can borrow some of mine, no titty- i erm, mean no biggy!" he stands then, walking over to the mess that is his duffel bag. he pulls out his worn out alien shirt (very fitting, he thinks) and a pair of sweatpants. you'll just have to do with no underwear for now. he takes his time in refolding all his clothes before dumping them in a wrinkled pile at the bottom of his bag.

"here, put these on." he offers you his clothes from where you sit cross-legged on the floor of his tent. you finally pull away from the book, and stare blankly from the fabric in his hands to his face.

a beat passes before han finally clears his throat. "you uh... put them on. like mine, see?" he gestures towards his shorts.

"why?" you ask.

oh dear.

"oh, well. people dont... respond well to seeing other people, or well in your case- a being's naked body." he explains, crouching down beside you.

you dog ear the page just like he did before closing it and setting it down on the floor.

"you.. you dont respond well?"

han swallows. "oh, well i mean, more of like the general public."

"so you... okay with me, naked body?"

his cheeks warm. "i mean, its not exactly a problem. you're pretty and interesting to look at with all due respect, but like- i dunno you might be a little... cold?"

you shake your head before placing your hand on his cheek. he jolts at the contact of your warm palm on his skin.

"oh. you run hot." he squeaks.

you nod.

how in the hell can he persuade you to just put on the damn clothes? not to be a perv or anything but he feels so icky shamelessly staring at your body, and you're none the wiser. he can feel himself half-hard, (a totally valid response, he would argue) but the guilt is eating at him. he doesnt want to take advantage of your naivety.

"but the clothes... they provide an.. extra layer of protection, you know" he winces at his lame response.

your eyes widen, reaching for the clothes in earnest. "armor?"

han bites his bottom lip and nods.

you look down at the fabric in your hands with awe before you stand up. you look down from the clothes back to han.

han mentally slaps himself. "oh, right. er- lemme help you."

han crouches down, holding the sweatpants out for you. he gently guides your legs to where they need to go, slipping the pants up your thighs and settling them on your waist. his fingers brush against where your belly button should be as he ties the strands tighter, to ensure the fabric wouldnt fall down.

"there yo-" to say han was blindsided by the heavy hand that smacks across the side of his face is an understatement. your whole palm lands against his cheek. his jaw drops in shock as he looks up at you.

"⍙⊑⏃⏁ ⏁⊑⟒ ⎎⎍☊☍? ⊑⍜⍙ ⎅⏃⍀⟒ ⊬⍜⎍ ⏁⍜⎍☊⊑ ⋔⟒ ⏁⊑⟒⍀⟒!" you yell, clutching at the hem of his sweatpants and taking a step away from him, as if wounded.

"i- what?? what happened i-"

"⎅⍜⋏⏁ ⏁⍀⊬ ⏁⍜ ⎅⟒⋏⊬ ⟟⏁! ⊬⍜⎍ ⏁⍜⎍☊⊑⟒⎅ ⋔⟒ ⏁⊑⟒⍀⟒, ⊬⍜⎍ ⌿⟒⍀⎐⟒⍀⏁!" you continue to rant, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"okay, okay... lets calm down- just- tell me what i did? what happened? did i hurt you?" han holds his hands up in surrender as he slowly approaches you.

you take a deep breath and stare him down. "dont.. no touch." your voice is hard.

"okay, okay. im sorry." jisung coos.

"that... p-part! no." your voice wavers slightly.

"i hear you. i understand. im sorry, okay?" his voice is gentle as he takes another cautious step towards you.

you let out a deep sigh and nod. "i- i sorry too. i hurt you."

"oh, no its fine." han bites his tongue in an attempt to hold back the tears in his eyes.

he approaches you once more, this time with the shirt bunched up to place it on your head easier. you gasp at the sensation and han chuckles.

he wonders how he would react if he were in your shoes, in an unfamiliar planet with a man you can hardly understand, as he pokes and prods at you.

how did you even get here in the first place? he decides he'll save his questions for when you're a little more comfortable with him.

he gently wraps his hand around your wrists and guides them into the shirt before he reaches around to untuck your hair from the fabric, letting it sweep down your back.

"there! now you.. kinda look like me." he laughs.

you stare at him. "ha. ha. ha. what that mean?" you ask.

"oh, when something is like.. funny? if you like something you kinda.. laugh." he struggles to explain.

"oh. ha. ha. ha."

han cant help the giggle that escapes him. "oh by the way. whats your name?"

"name?"

"well i mean... me, han jisung." he points towards himself, poking his chest for emphasis. he turns his pointer fingers towards you before gently poking your chest.

you make a sound of understanding before you tell him yours.

"oh. y/n. thats pretty," he compliments.

you make a sound akin to a purr, rumbling deep in your chest. "i- i read. you book. okay?" you point.

"oh, alright!" han bends down to pick it up before he hands it to you. "its starting to get dark. i'm gonna start a fire okay? i erm- i leave for a bit. you stay."

you only nod before sinking to the ground, folding your legs under you as you lean against the supporting pole of the tent. "i stay." you reassure him. its not like you could go anywhere else anyway.

you watch as han gives you one last smile before he steps out into the dusk, zipping up his tent behind him.

you like han, you decide. you were exiled onto this planet for.. a crime you had no choice but to commit. you understand the gravity of the Supremes' punishment now, throwing you down into a disgusting, vile planet such as Earth.

why couldnt they have dropped you off at Sebion? at least you'd be the most intelligent sentient being. sure, the siens were a little annoying, constantly screeching at the mark of every hour. but that, you could live with. humans? a totally different story.

you remember the lessons they taught about humans, the most selfish, vile creature to exist in the universe. they look a little different from what you've been taught, though. they're supposed to have sharp teeth and long nails. the scariest part about them? they lie. imagine that! the thought sends a shudder down your spine. you know all about the evil that is the human race. possessed by horrors like greed, selfishness, and hatred.

they're the creatures that scared you the most. you could deal with the merqrai on vikunus. they had a weakness, a soft spot on the top of their head you could whack and render them unconscious. but humans? just about the only sentient being in the entire universe capable of betrayal. they are inherently evil, your tutors said.

you think back to how you had zapped han jisung, how his body folded like cloth into a heap on the floor. was electricity their weakness? something about han jisung makes you believe he's different, though. he's certainly not as ugly as the humans they showed you in class. he's almost a little pretty, with round eyes and chubby cheeks.

you'd like to think he wouldn't lie like the other humans, too.

by the time han jisung returns to his tent, you've finished reading the interesting novel cover to cover. admittedly, you skipped all the boring parts and instead focused on the dialogue. you wanted to impress han with your new english.

"hello." you chirp cheerily as soon as han jisung enters, removing his gloves and settling closer to the radiator in the middle of the space.

"oh! hi." jisung blushes, reaching his hands out to the heat.

"you are cold?" you coo, moving a little closer to sit beside him.

han just giggles. "yea, a little. it's around winter now so its getting chilly. i think its gonna snow tomorrow."

"winter? the cold time?" you vaguely remember your tutor telling you all about the seasons on Earth.

thank god you picked up those extra lessons on Earth.

"yea! does it snow where you're from? han is seated more comfortably now, legs stretched in front of him.

"snow? the... uh... from the sky? falling, yes?"

"yea! the little white things that fall from the sky."

"oh... no snow at home. just uhm what you call it... rain?"

han beams at you. "you said your english was bad, but i think you're doing perfectly fine. pretty good for someone not around here, actually."

you cant help the smile that creeps on your face. a silence falls over the both of you after, with han staring deeply into the emptiness of his tent. you look at him now, really look at him while he's distracted.

his eyes really are pretty, glowing here in the dark and shining a little thanks to the reflection of the fire lit in his tiny lamp. you inch a little closer to him now, slowly just until your thighs press against the side of his.

"erm- what are you doing?" han instantly pulls away.

"cold? i warm you." you offer, bringing your knees to your chest in an attempt to make yourself small. you figure maybe he's a little apprehensive to be too close to you. you did happen to zap him earlier.

han lets out a sigh and crawls back to his seat next to you, the side of his body pressed firmly against yours.

"damn, you're really hot." he chuckles before inhaling sharply at the double meaning. he doubts you'd understand.

"i know. you shake." you coo, draping one arm over his shoulders and pulling him to you a little more firmly.

han stiffens at your side, head awkwardly pressed against the side of your chest. he can faintly hear the rhythm of your heartbeat and his eyes widen.

"whoa, thats so cool!" han exclaims, pulling away from you.

you tilt your head in confusion as han gently cups the back of your neck to pull your ear against his own chest. you gasp at the sound.

"so slow!" you yell, looking up at him in awe.

"and yours is so fast." han chuckles, resting his head against your chest once more.

you let him wrap himself around you, the weight of today falling on han's shoulders as he subconsciously slips into a state of sleep. you watch as his blinking slows, until his lids flutter into a final close. his breathing evens then, warm air tickling the side of your chest with his every exhale. a deep rumble starts within your chest, a vibration that spreads throughout your whole body until the tips of your fingers. you reach up to delicately stroke his hair away from his face, his smooth skin and sharp nose drawing your attention.

"so pretty," you mumble, your own eyes fluttering shut to the sound of han's heavy breathing.

when jisung wakes, he's cold and shirtless. he sits up abruptly, throwing the weighted blanket off his upper body and scrambling for his slides. its far too early for his heart to be beating this fast, but panic settles in his chest when he registered your absence.

"y/n?" he croaks, hastily unzipping the flap to his tent and all but throwing himself outside.

"morning!" you cheer, hair wet and dripping onto what was han's shirt from yesterday, now damp and hanging awkwardly on your frame, as you'd shoved an arm and your head into one hole, stretching the fabric around you. in one hand, you hold a sharp, pointed stick. impaled on it are several colorful fish, flopping in an attempt to escape their inevitable death.

on the other hand, your clothes from last night.

"oh." jisung exhales, hands coming up to clutch at his chest.

"i.. i catch these!" you beam, extending the stick to him.

jisung can't help but giggle a little. "yes. i see that. thank you. my errr- my shirt?"

you look down as if just remembering that you'd stolen his shirt from him in his sleep.

"oh! i... i walk to the water to clean me, i see in the water this," you shrug to the fish, "but then i cant reach! so i go in and catch them. but i get wet. so i take off. but then i see people and i remember what u say to me. 'general public dont want naked body.'" you finish seriously, voice lowered in an attempt to mimick han's.

han's heart drops at the mention of other people.

"you.. you saw someone? where?"

you turn and point to a clearing not far from the other edge of the river.

"a man. like you!" you cry excitedly. "can we meet?"

"no." han's voice is firm as he wraps his hand around your arm, pulling you to the tent. "lets cook that fish for lunch. maybe we should go back to the city." he thinks aloud to himself. not a lot of people know about this campsite, somewhat of a private haven shared between his friends. minho's father used to take them camping here, and the only other people who know of this site are minho's close friends. he's a little worried to run into someone he knows right now with you here with him. not that he wants to hide you or anything...

"the city!" you screech, plopping yourself down on the floor. "i want to see! i hear about the... the things you move in? the big.." you proceed to gesture wildly, hands reaching out to grip onto something and steering left and right.

"yes, a car?" han offers, turning the burner on as he watches you with fondness.

"ohhh yes! i want car." you sigh dreamily.

han approaches you as he lets the food cook, snorting to himself as he reaches out to fix your shirt. gently, he raises the collar and removes your arm, shooting it in the right hole.

"there. you're like a big baby."

"your baby! ha ha ha ha." you joke, looking to han for validation.

instead, his cheeks redden and he shrugs. "i guess, yea?" he turns away from you as he reaches into his duffel for a shirt of his own.

a couple of beats of silence pass before you turn to han. "do you have mate?"

han chokes on his own saliva, doubling over in pain as he slaps his own chest.

"i- what?"

honestly, you have no idea what possessed you to ask that question. you suppose its the curiosity in you. but another part of you is less naive. you know whats happening with han. after last night, the way you fell asleep in his arms with his heartbeat in your ear. he's sweet to you, kind and patient. you wonder if humans do these things to each other regularly, or if, like your kind, such special moments are reserved for special people. you sincerely hope its the latter.

"i just... wonder. like elizabeth and mister darcy." you mumble.

han chuckles at that. "oh. right, then. no. i dont have a mate. do you?"

you blush. you didnt expect him to ask you the same question. you firgure you're fine with opening up to han.

"i did."

han's eyes widen as his whole body turns to you in bewilderment.

"what?" he squeaks.

you give him a small smile filled with nothing but sadness. "not now. i did have but now no." you clarify, shrugging.

"aren't mates for life or something? what do you mean you dont have one now?"

you stare at him blankly. han suddenly feels as if he's overstepped. "i'm sorry, i didnt mean to-"

"mate is a bad man." you sigh, gaze dropping to the floor.

han swallows, staying silent in fear that making a sound would somehow change your mind about sharing something so personal with him.

you stare at him thoughtfully for a minute before you continue. "he was forced mate. for me. i dont choose," you explain, brows furrowing. "he want me but i dont want him."

"why?" han cant stop himself from asking.

you make a face, and han laughs. "ugly?"

"very."

"so what happened?"

you shrug. "he try to mate me. i say no. he say yes! i hurt him. he send me down here."

"thats horrible." han shivers, pouting at you.

"yes. worst punishment. earth." you sigh, shaking your head.

"hey, its not that bad." han bumps you with his shoulder, trying desperately to lighten the somewhat heavy mood.

"yes. not bad." you say genuinely, holding his gaze.

han coughs awkwardly and smiles sheepishly at you before he stands abruptly. "you should come to the city with me. you can stay at my place for a while and get used to things and then maybe... i dunno. we'll see. how does that sound?"

you simply stare up at him with a blank expression on your face.

han swallows before starting once more, "we go to the city. my house. you stay and then.... you leave. when you want."

"oh yes!" you yell excitedly, "in the.. uhm car?" you're eager.

"yea... its kind of a long ride though, you'll probably grow bored."

han could not be more wrong. from helping him pack up his tent to bringing his stuff to his car, to squeezing everything into the backseat, to settling down in the passenger seat- you're absolutely buzzing. if you were locked in a room, han's sure you'd be bouncing off the walls.

"what is that?" you point out to the green fields just outside your window.

"thats a cow," han answers your umpteenth question of the day.

"and that?"

"another cow."

"that?"

"still a cow."

"and this?" you finally turn your attention to the things inside the car. your finger glides across the top of the stereo, fiddling with the buttons and twisting the knobs.

"thats the radio. it plays music, see?" han turns the radio on to a random station, a song he recognizes by gorillaz playing softly.

you stare in awe. "whats that language?"

"music," han hums along, turning the volume up.

"when you're close to me~ dun dun, dun dun dun dun dun, dun dun," han's thumbs drum along to the beat on his steering wheel.

"i like that. ha ha ha," you offer thoughtfully, trying (and failing) to match the way han bobs his head along to the music.

"yea? thats good. we have something in common."

by the time han pulls into the parking right under his unit, you've somewhat calmed down. admittedly, he swears he didnt mean to, but his mind wandered to the man you crossed paths with in the woods. what if he saw how... different you looked? he imagines you thrashing wildly in the river, catching fish with your bare hands. he worries his bottom lip until he can feel a little bit of blood. what if he told someone? what if someone comes to take you away from him?

not that han feels like he owns you in any way, but he cant explain the feeling of responsibility he has over you. he tries to tell himself its silly. you've known each other for 2 days! and yet when han watches you stare out the window in awe, he feels his heart beat erratically in his chest and his cock twitch in interest. do you even feel that way for him?

you on the other hand, are completely confused. han starts to get quieter and quieter the nearer you get to his home. you start to wonder if he's suddenly regretting bringing you here. he starts to zone out, completely ignoring your questions. you figure maybe he's grown tired of your yapping, constantly asking him questions. instead, you busy yourself with staring out the window.

honestly, you can find some similarities between his planet and yours. the tall buildings that seem to tower over everyone, the way people seem to walk with purpose, a destination in mind. there are many different creatures on this planet, some that walk on all fours and are significantly smaller than humans. han tells you they are called "animals" and that there are lots of different kinds. han tells you he has one in his apartment. a "dog" he calls bbama.

"just... stay right behind me, alright?" han says anxiously, keys tight in his hand.

you're starting to get a little nervous yourself. clutching tightly on to the straps of his bag.

han exhales as he pushes open his front door. "bbama baby? daddy's home!"

the little puppy bounds excitedly for the door, barking and yipping at his feet. han coos down at him, gently settling his bags down by the door and moving in to allow you some space to enter.

"we have a visitor, bbam! say hi." han scoops his little baby up to his chest and holds him out to smell you.

you stay frozen in fear, the furry creature sniffing at you wildly before his tongue darts out to lick at your hand.

"HE GOT ME. HE GOT ME." you start to sob, backing into the farthest corner and clutching at your hand as if in pain. bbama is taken aback by your loudness and starts barking, tail wagging as if to say he enjoys this game.

"its okay, its okay! he likes you!" han reassures you, biting down on his tongue to keep from laughing.

"he.. he attack me! with his mouth!" you accuse, waving your fingers in his face.

"noooo, he kissed you! its a way to show you like someone, see?" han lifts bbama up to his face, who immediately starts licking his cheek enthusiastically.

you watch, still a little apprehensive. you lower your hands, scooting a little closer to the furry ball in han's arms.

"he... he's so small." you note, tilting your head to scan bbama's whole figure.

"yea, hes just a baby. he's totally harmless." han coos, setting bbama down on the floor. the dog immediately runs to your legs, jumping up and down.

you only stare at him. "what is.... his purpose. like why?"

han is a little taken aback by your question. "for friendship?" he offers.

you seem satisfy with his answer, carefully stepping over the dog as it continues to nip at your pants, weaving in and out from between your legs as you walk around han's apartment. its nice and cozy, bright with lots of windows to let in light. his living room is cute, a long couch and a tv, a funky rug in the middle.

han watches you look around, rocking back and forth on his heels as he takes a deep breath. "uhm.. so this is where i live." he says weakly.

you nod. "its nice." you hum, running your fingers along the countertop in his kitchen. you continue to look around until your gaze lands on him, fixed on the way he seems to wait for your approval.

"okay. well, uhm. you can sleep in my room and ill take the couch."

you tilt your head. "why apart?"

han swallows. "well.. i mean- its just.. not right..." your heart sinks a little. not right?

"i want near you. like in your tent." you refer to the night han slept in your arms.

"no! that.. that cant happen again. you sleep in my room. i sleep here." han's voice is final. he cant allow himself near you, guilt suddenly eating at the way his body reacts to you. he knows he cant help but be attracted to you. its just the fact that you're so naive, so clueless to the way he yearns to touch you. he feels like a total perv.

your brows furrow in confusion. you thought maybe you were past this weird awkwardness with han. he seems to prove you wrong now, eyes darting nervously across the room and to the floor, as if mapping out a way for him to get out of this conversation.

"you dont want me?" you ask sternly.

"what? no! i dont-"

han is interrupted by the sound of keys jingling by his door. his heart drops when he remembers he's home two days early. he'd asked minho to house sit for him.

"oh. you're back?" minho opens the front door before han can successfully close the door stopper, making him look like a fool as he lunges awkwardly forward and quickly stopping himself.

"oh- yea i dont feel well." he forces out a weak cough.

"riiiiight. okay who's this?' minho nods to you, who appears from the kitchen at the sound of another voice.

you gasp. "another human!" you quickly approach the pair, ignoring han's quick head shakes of no.

"err.. yea?" minho raises an eyebrow before turning to his friend. "seriously who is this?"

"no one! just some random i said id give a ride home aha haha," han sweats.

no one? you are no one now? you give han a stern look before you lock eyes with the stranger.

"i am y/n."

"cool. i am minho. where you from?"

"im from zemenia!"

"oh... cool. exotic."

"thats enough getting to know each other! bye bye now." han quickly pushes minho forcefully by the chest, nudging him until his whole body is out in the hall.

"you still have to pay me for the 2 days, alright?" minho says.

"whatever, fuck off. bye!" han throws himself against the door dramatically, huffing and running a hand through his hair.

"that was close," he chuckles, turning to you.

your face does not match the wide smile he so proudly wears. your face is twisted in a scowl, arms crossed in front of you.

"what?" han squeaks.

"why? why do you hide me?" you storm away, plopping yourself on han's couch.

"what are you talking about?" han whines, chasing after you. "what if minho found out about where you're from? who you are? what you are?"

he spits the words out as if disgusted. could that be it? han is disgusted by who you are? what you are?

"ah, so you are ashamed." you're quick to argue.

han cant believe his ears. where is this coming from? he falls to his knees in front of you. "what? no! im not ashamed of you."

"then why do you hide me? you are so confusing. you hold me and say things to me and i like that feeling. but then you act weird. and say you dont want to stay near me. and you hide me from other humans! and then you almost kill me with your bbama!" you're throwing your hands in the air, clearly agitated.

han's frowning. he knows you must feel confused, overwhelmed. but he's also smiling at the back of his head. "y/n-"

"i... i dont know! these feelings. inside.. i dont- i dont feel these things at home. i- this is all so different! and you're confusing me." you groan, kicking your legs up to the couch and hugging them to your chest.

han sighs. "no.. you got it all wrong. let me explain, okay?"

"⏃⌇⌇⊑⍜⌰⟒" you bite back.

"hey. i dont like the sound of that." han whimpers.

you only roll your eyes.

han sits up with a sigh, crawling slowly next to you. he grabs you by the knees and forces you to turn your body towards him. his fingers rest there, gently caressing the skin there.

"look, i am not. ashamed of you. at all. i think you're the coolest thing to ever happen to me! which is why... im scared." han sighs.

you look up at him, fearful. "you scare of me?"

"no! i just- im scared that... someone's gonna take you away from me as fast as i got you, you know?"

you nod, timid.

"and im.. a little overwhelmed. that feeling you feel? with all the... feelings in you? and you're all confused, right? thats how i feel too! like... its kinda weird because we've known each other for such a short amount of time but.. i just feel... i feel something for you." han finishes off quietly, gaguing your reaction.

you only stare back.

okay, lets try again. "i.. im like mr darcy. and you're elizabeth. except i havent read the book so i dont know if they end up together... do they?"

"they are together."

"yea, so like.. i like you. but i feel bad."

"but why?" you whisper.

"because... i feel like im taking advantage of you... i feel like. you only know me. i feel like im trapping you. and i feel like its going too fast." han rushes everything out, like he's rapping.

you blink at him. "are humans... slow?"

han lets out a chuckle. "well, much slower than this." he gestures between the two of you.

"but. you like me. i like you. what is the problem?" you say, like its the easiest thing on earth.

han is caught off guard by how sincerely you look at him. maybe it could be the easiest thing on earth. maybe he's too in his head about everything.

you reach out to hold his hand, breaking him out of his trance. "no problem, yes?"

he huffs. "no problem."

han spends the rest of the afternoon making it up to you. he cooks you some food without setting his kitchen on fire, which, in his books, counts as a miracle. he watches as your eyes light up with every spoonful, the flavors exploding in your mouth. he holds your hand in understanding as he tells you how everything back at home tasted the same. he makes a promise to feed you everything ever.

he lets you watch everything your heart desires, heart hammering in his chest as you watch his favorites with the same enthusiasm as him. he answers all your questions with patience, never once making you feel like a burden. you appreciate that.

and later, after youve both showered (he insisted on doing this separately lest he get a heart attack), he dresses you up in his comfiest clothes and settles you on the bed next to him. you watch him in anticipation. he swallows, turning to shut the lights off.

"hannie," you coo, reaching for his hand.

"yes?" he tries to be nonchalant.

"you dont want to touch me?"

he fails.

"i- i dont know..."

"we do that at home too, you know?' you tease him.

his heart falls just a little. "oh. youve done it?"

you shake your head, no. "mate for life. remember?"

han swallows. "r-right."

"you shake. you scared?" you try your best to calm him down, sitting up beside him.

"well, i- just never done it, too." he mumbles.

"good. we learn together."

you're a fast learner, apparently. han showed you how to kiss, gentle and slow. yet you're here on top of him, arms wrapped around his neck as you kiss him incessantly. he can do nothing but take it, desperate hands clutching at your sides in an attempt to ground himself.

its so wet and sloppy, your saliva mixing with his and creating a puddle that leaks out the corner of his mouth in drool. it makes him dizzy, the way your tongue pushes against his.

"i- wait, lets slow down." he manages to squeak before you devour his mouth once more.

"you humans and your slow." you hum, pulling away just slightly to allow han some space to breathe.

he looks so pretty like this, eyes glazed over and cheeks rosy. his glasses are askew, lips shiny with spit. you lean over to lick at his cheek, the way he told you those who like each other do.

"there. you feel that i like you, right?"

han thinks its lethal, the way you do things that are just so dirty, and you're so unaware. he's never been this hard, and all you've done is just kiss him a little.

"y-yes. i like you too." han coos, hand resting at your nape and applying pressure to push your face closer to his, lips finding yours once more.

"i feel like i like you more." you pout at him.

han shakes his head. "no way," his voice is so much thicker, so much deeper as he leans forward to press his lips against yours.

you deny him a third time. "hannie, show me you like me." you whisper.

he blinks up at you stupidly. "h-how?"

you reach for his hands and drag them to the hem of your shirt. he understands, quickly undressing you and throwing the fabric to the opposite corner of his room.

"you're so beautiful." he gasps in awe, chin resting against your chest as he looks up at you.

"you can touch me. its okay." you reassure him, dragging his fingers along your bare torso. he relishes in the feeling of your warm skin against his, tips of his fingers gliding along inches upon inches of your skin, up and down your sides and across the front of your stomach. you hum, fingers tangling in his hair as you watch him explore you.

"want you to take off, too." you sigh, pulling at his shirt. he complies with no protest. hes back to kissing you the instant his shirt is off, hands coming up to cup your cheeks and pull you infinitely closer to him. he licks into your mouth eagerly, taking every drop of spit in your mouth as if its meant for him. you allow him to, letting out little sounds and squeaks.

"need you to ride me, please? will you ride me, baby?" han whimpers against your lips, hands groping at your chest.

"show me how," you're breathless when you pull away, leaving enough space for han to shimmy his pants off your hips. he groans at the sight of your thighs, plush and ready to be marked. you're eager for him, spreading your legs to show the slit in between your thighs.

he watches in awe as you dip two fingers into your hole, scissoring the digits until you feel you've loosened yourself up enough.

"you, please. off." you mumble.

han obeys instantly, rushing to push his jeans down his thighs, shaking the fabric off until it sits at his ankles. you blink once you take in the size of his cock, hard and aching for you.

han suddenly grows shy, hands cupping his cock as his ears grow red. "whats wrong? is it.. is it okay?"

"its... big. not as big at home." you exhale shakily.

his dick twitches. you think he's big?

"its okay, let me eat you out, itll feel better when its wet." he promises, pulling you to sit on his face.

you back away in panic. "you eat me?" you ask in shock.

han laughs, breathless. "no baby, not literally! just... let me show you, okay? trust me?" he hums, stroking your thighs gently.

"o-okay." you relax in his hold, allow him to maneuver you until your core sits right at his open mouth.

"relax, baby, i got you." han coos, before he lets his tongue out to scoop the liquid in between your thighs.

the taste immediately goes straight to his head, making him dizzy and hot. he lets out a low groan. now, han is a munch. he loves eating pussy. all kinds of pussy, truthfully! he's not one to discriminate. he thinks every pussy is unique and none of them should be compared to one another.

yours though? oh he means it deep in his balls when he says its the best. the taste is different, genuinely sweet like honey as it trickles down his throat. he swallows up everything you have to offer to him, growing deaf to the way you moan pitifully above him, ignoring the painful sting that your fingers bring when you pull at his hair.

"hannie! thats.. good! i- i ⍜⊑ ⋔⊬ ⎎⎍☊☍ ⏁⊑⏃⏁⌇ ⌇⍜ ☌⍜⍜⎅!" han chuckles against your mound, sticking his tongue as deep into you as he can. he thinks he's tripping now, lightheaded as his blood rushes south. suddenly everything's so sensitive, his senses heightened. every time your fingertips brush against his face he jolts a little, the sweat on his back suddenly too wet, too much for him to bare.

you fall apart on his tongue with a cry and han hums in triumph, swallowing the nectar you gift him. you shake on top of him and han drags you down to his lap, sitting up to wrap his arms around you.

"good?" he asks, cocky.

"yes," you sob, eager to kiss him as thanks. he accepts gratefully, tongue swirling with yours as he situates you on top of his aching cock.

"can i put it in, baby? please. please let me fuck you, y/n." he begs, pathetic.

you hum, your forehead resting against his. "you have to ask some more. thats how it is."

han whimpers. you're making him beg for it? how cruel. "please, baby. i'm literally so hard right now, it hurts so bad. never been this hard. need to put it in your pussy so bad,"

"hurts?" you coo condescendingly, wrapping your slender fingers around his cock.

han can only whimper as you tug on his dick. "please,"

you give in to him then, "put it in, then."

he scrambles to wrap his hand around his base, rubbing the tip along your slit to catch the wetness there before he presses in. you bite your bottom lip, the stretch getting to you.

"im sorry baby, does it hurt? i bet it hurts so bad." he hates that he's hurting you, but he cant deny the way he throbs harder at the face you make, eyes squeezed shut and mouth gaping open. he pulls you closer, shoving his tongue into your mouth in an attempt to distract you from the pain.

you sloppily kiss him as he sets you deeper onto his cock, your thighs shaking from the effort. you let out a gasp once you take him to the base, feeling so full.

"oh my holy fuck," han gasps, bringing his fist to his mouth and biting down on his knuckles in an attempt to holding off his orgasm.

he's just started, and he can already feeling it end.

what kind of alien pussy magic is this?

"oh!" you exhale, hands gripping tightly onto han's shoulders. "its.. a lot," you're speechless.

"it feels so good," han whines, arms wrapping tightly around your waist.

you start to move then, rocking your hips back and forth, driving han absolutely crazy.

"fuck, yes. take my cock baby. its yours now." he babbles.

"mine?" you coo, nuzzling into his cheek.

"you can have my whole house. take everything i own. just dont stop moving your hips like that, please." his mouth is filthy, and you only smile.

"like this?" han whines when you speed up, fingers scratching the skin on your back.

"im so sorry baby i think im gonna cum." han pouts as he looks up at you, looking genuinely sorry. "i cant hold it."

he's not usually this sensitive, but something in the way your pussy hugs him just right has him losing his goddamn mind.

"its okay, hannie. i like you so much." you coo, holding him close. he shoves his face in between your breasts as you ride him for everything he has, cumming wildly with a shout. he spills inside you, eyes squeezing shut as tears threaten to spill down his cheeks.

mygod. its good enough to make a man cry.

you hold him gently, soothing him with scratches down his back. its a long while before han pulls away from you, sweaty and red in the face.

"ill do better next time, promise." he pouts at you.

"ha ha ha. we have all the time. promise." you coo back, wiping away the strands that litter across his forehead.

"thats true. you're not going anywhere anymore." he pulls out of you and swiftly tackles you to the bed, a squeak slipping past your lips as han holds you down against the bed, his sweaty body pressing against yours. he brings his ear up to rest against your chest, the quick boom boom lulling him to sleep. you watch with fondness as han starts to snore, your fingers gently rubbing up and down his back.

how ironic for you to find home a million miles away from where it was once. he thinks its a little out of the ordinary, this love you two will share. who cares though, really?

han's got his fantasy alien baddie girlfriend.

taglist: @seungfl0wer @minniesverse @ayyonoona @prettydumbandcrying @kierraperkins3 @simp-council @nvrhis @maisyyyyyy @seunmong-in @hyunjinismypookie @doitforbangchan @fairypluto @rundontwalkshesaid @linosssss @birdcagebody @jutdwae-flower @satosugu4l @lovelymindescape @miraitstan @myjilix @softkisshyunjin @paborachaslvt

: @lac3ybow @jellyleggz @b-r-stark @wildtokay @kay-bear200 @rizzrosesworld @feetoffthemalfoy @yzsqu 😋 @frilledjellyfishh @stunna-girl69 @ravenziggy @loveuwoo @stellasays45 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @frequentlykit @k-drizzle @bookswillfindyouaway @hoeforsungie @mjdragonzz @min-doesnt-know @iikxstcenn @boi-bi-ahaha @janedewitt @seodwaekii @hyunjinnnniemylove @kpopjackie @blendingcaramal @charlieg1rl @y-ur--i

i hope u all got tagged omg thank u i love u all pls lmk if i missed ur tag!!

#seung mong!#skz #skz smut #skz fanfic #stray kids #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #skz kinktober 2024 #nobody talk about how late this is...#i love alien y/n shes so cute #jisung is a loser #seung mong's kinktober 2024

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jemiswumbo · 9 months ago

Text

bulletproof love (18+)

twitchstreamer!luke x reader

author’s note: omgg this oneshot took all my blood sweat and tears to produce. i am NOT a graphic designer. i do NOT normally write smut. but this idea had to come to fruition before i went insane. HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY!!!!

title is from bulletproof love by pierce the veil. lyrics have no correlation but it IS a certified banger.

tags/warnings: smut!! minors dni. oral (m receiving). use of y/n. not proofread. kinda long. teeheehee etc.

You met Luke Castellan at the grocery store.

He looked like a completely normal (albeit, very attractive) guy in his twenties. His dark curls fell slightly over his warm, chocolate brown eyes. A mischievous smirk was plastered across his cheeks, showing off a small dimple on the left side. He wore a simple hoodie and sweats as he perused the pasta aisle, picking up different jars of sauce and reading the labels absentmindedly. He did, however, have an interesting scar sitting jagged over his cheekbone, but it was so faint that you hadn’t noticed it until way later on.

You would have never guessed he was a near millionaire with close to a million social media followers. You would have never guessed he spent the majority of his life not at the grocery store, but rather streaming FPS and RPG games for an average of fifty thousand views at a time.

You would have never guessed he’d take a liking to you.

You, who worked part time at this very grocery store. You, who didn’t really know the first thing about video games, except that they were confusing and it was insane that some people could build ridiculously complex structures at a mind-boggling speed on Fortnite whilst also shooting with godly precision.

He had backed into you accidentally whilst you were restocking a shelf, causing you to drop a couple glass jars that cracked open upon impact with the floor. You apologized, even though you’d really done nothing wrong. He obviously thought you attractive (or maybe he just didn’t leave the house much?) because his idea of an apology was taking you out to some lavishly expensive dinner the next night.

The dinner was okay but the conversation is what got you hooked. He was so sweet and told you so many wild stories that had you laughing until your chest ached. He paid for the meal and held your hand on the drive home. When he dropped you off, he casually told you his Instagram handle and told you to shoot him a follow. You blushed, smiled, and scurried inside.

You just about died when you saw his profile.

ii.

It’s been about a year since you had started dating Luke Castellan, otherwise known as his twitch handle “SonofHermes.”

(“Because he’s the messenger god, right? In, like, Greek Mythology? And I felt like a damned messenger god when I was a moderator for four different discord servers and a twitch chat—“)

Luke’s twitch streams occured mostly every night, from 8pm to about 3am. He always began his streams with some FPS game (Overwatch, Valorant, CS:GO, or something similar). After a few hours he would swap over to a different game for his variety segment. His chat was hilarious. They loved to tease Luke and joke around with him and donate silly messages. And, of course, because Luke was so very attractive, a decent chunk of his fan base was dedicated towards swooning over his every word and look and smile.

You, honestly, never really minded. Mostly because Luke was yours. You were sure the thirsting from chat would diminish once they knew you were dating. But… you really, truly, had no desire to be in the public eye. Having nearly a million people know your name and your face was daunting and scary. You also had enough common sense to realize that some of his fans were probably batshit crazy and would send you hate and death threats for dating Luke. You were a part time employee and a student; you did not need another reason on top of that to have poor mental health.

Luke loved you unconditionally and that was all that mattered. You were perfectly content spending most evenings to yourself. He was a good boyfriend, though, and did schedule days off to take you out and show you incredible amounts of love and support. You were both very happy and secure in your relationship.

One particular evening, you were staying over at Luke’s apartment. It was a Friday, and you had no work tomorrow, so he bought alcohol and weed and selected a list of movies to marathon. It was basically your most ideal way to spend the weekend.

That was, until, Luke’s gamer friends messaged him on discord, begging him to join their Rust server to defend their group base.

Luke had met these friends through Twitch events and game conventions. There was Percy, who streamed with his girlfriend Annabeth. They were one of the most adored couples in the gaming community. They all lived in the same state, so Luke hung out with them pretty often. There was also Grover, who was Percy’s roommate and would join his streams from time to time. As well, there was Thalia, who was a huge advocate for women in eSports, and played in a professional league. Luke had introduced them too you a few months ago, and they all swore to help keep your relationship a secret.

The five of them often played different games together, as most of their fanbases consisted of the same people, so it really raked in the views and made for good content. Plus, it was just really fun. You knew how much Luke loved his friends and cherished the times they got to play together.

The Rust server was a recent hyperfixation that you were positive would fade once a new MMO came out to grab their attention. But, you were also aware of how much time and effort Luke had spent constructing this base of his.

“Go,” you said, noticing his confliction. “You can have one hour to play. Stream, too, so I can watch out here. But after that, you’re mine for the rest of the night.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Luke said with his devilish grin. He kissed you hard, leaving a swarm of butterflies dancing in your stomach. He hurried off to his bedroom, where he kept his gaming setup, and shut the door.

You were fine with spending an hour alone. Flipping through Netflix, you cracked open a bottle of wine and relaxed into the sofa.

One hour went by fast. Luke didn’t return to the living room.

You picked up your phone and opened the Twitch app, clicking on Luke’s stream. He was currently in the middle of some intense adventure with Percy. Luke’s webcam was situated in the top left corner of the game feed, and he looked so cute and handsome under the glow of the monitor and the purple LED lights.

To be honest, the wine was getting to you. You felt such a strong desire to be near Luke and to feel him and be with him. He bit his lip on camera, deep in concentration, and that action alone had your heart rate increasing.

“Fuck it,” you said, turning off the TV and standing up from the couch. His hour was up, and it was time to take the matter into your own hands.

iii.

Luke enjoyed playing his games with the volume high in his headphones. It allowed him to feel like he was actually in the game, and unaware of the outside world. This also was an issue, because more often than not he would lose track of time and forget about his plans and scheduled events.

He just couldn’t help it — he loved video games. Currently, he was busy perfecting his base on Rust so it wouldn’t be broken into again. It took a lot of effort and concentration, and Percy and Grover dicking around and goofing off did nothing to help his focus.

So, it only made sense that he didn’t notice his bedroom door opening. The door wasn’t in frame on his camera, so he didn’t see it open, either. He didn’t notice it close. He didn’t notice you, getting down on all fours and crawling over to his desk setup.

He didn’t notice you, at all, until you put a hand on his leg.

Luke jumped a bit and glanced down, meeting your mischievous glance and the naughty smile on your cheeks.

“Uh, chat — sorry, gotta go to the bathroom, one sec —“ Luke rushed out. He shut off his camera and muted his mic, double checking that it was definitely muted by quickly scanning the latest messages in his chat:

He rolled his eyes at the messages, and pushed his chair back, glaring at you on the floor. “Baby, what the hell are you doing?!”

You smiled. “I was just missing you, is all.”

“So you snuck in — wait, shit, you said one hour. It’s been an hour hasn’t it?” Luke said, running a hand through his messy curls.

You nodded, and gave a weak shrug. “It’s okay, though. I think it would be fun if we also played a game of our own.”

Luke raised his eyebrows, feeling a blush form on his cheeks. “What’re .. what’re you suggesting?”

You unbuttoned your blouse and tossed to the floor, leaving you in a lacy black bra and your mini skirt. You let your fingers linger on the strap of your bra. “I’ll let you stream longer. But.. once you cum, you have to shut it off.”

“You want to blow me on stream?” Luke asked, incredulously. He could already feel himself start to harden at the thought of this ‘game’ of yours occurring.

“Like, secretly, though.” You said with a slight eye roll. “You can try to keep your composure for as long as you can, but you’ll be all mine for the rest of the night. Okay?”

Luke took a minute to ponder. If he somehow got caught… the consequences would be severe. His reputation would be tarnished. He’d lose his job and his income and the entire career he had worked so hard to build.

But on the other hand.. you looked really fucking sexy, staring at him with your doe-eyes, feigning innocence in the most seductive lingerie he’d ever seen you in.

“Fuck’s sake.” Luke pulled his chair back towards his desk. He tugged his sweatpants down to his ankles, giving you a face full of his half hard cock and his toned, muscular thighs. “You have to be quiet too, you little slut. I seriously cannot get caught.”

“Of course,” you replied, slightly moaning as you took his length into your hand. “You’re so incredibly attractive.”

“Shut up,” Luke said, adjusting his camera angle to absolutely ensure it cut off at his upper chest and nothing lower than that was visible. He took a deep breath and was about to rejoin his stream, when you began sucking him off. “Fuck!”

You pulled your lips off of him with a loud pop. “Come on, Lukey, you can last longer than that.”

“You’re mouth feels so fucking good though,” Luke groaned, threading his fingers through your hair. He took another deep breath and guided your head back to his cock, which was now fully hard and aching for your mouth. This time, when you licked up his shaft, he was more prepared and was able to maintain his chill composure. “Okay. Okay, baby, I’m turning my stuff back on. Be quiet, please.”

You nodded, slowly taking him back into your warm mouth.

Luke turned on his camera. He turned on his mic. He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed his mouse and keyboard. “Okay, I’m back. Chat, please tell me Percy and Thalia didn’t do anything stupid while I was gone.”

“Hey!” You heard, faintly from Luke’s headset. “We didn’t do anything, and if your chat says otherwise, they are lying!”

You giggled as quietly as you could, and clearly the vibrations from such movement felt good for Luke, because you heard him take a sharp intake of breath.

“Wh-whatever. Doesn’t matter. Let’s get back to work.” Luke said defensively.

“What?” Percy asked. “You sound weird, man. Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong!” Luke replied, too quickly and at an octave higher than he normally speaks. You couldn’t help but get a little nervous. He was terrible at being subtle.

“Okay…” This was a girl’s voice, and sounded like Thalia. “My chat agrees that you’re being weird.”

“Same.” Percy agreed.

“Yeah, well,” Luke scanned his second monitor to check in on how his chat was reacting. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “My chat is being dumb, as per usual.”

Below the desk, your nerves had subsided and instead you became preoccupied with the notion of possibly getting caught. It was kind of twisted but this caused your lower region to dampen. You lifted your short little skirt over your hips and moved your lacy underwear to the side, giving you access to finger yourself.

You moaned, with your mouth full of thick, heady cock, and brain slightly foggy from the wine consumption. You were close already.

“What?” Luke said, clearly reading something on his monitor. “Chat, that was my phone vibrating on my desk. I did not moan over that headshot Percy made. Be so for real”

“Rude,” Percy said. “I would’ve moaned. I’m like, the god of gaming.”

“Loser.” Luke responded, biting his lower lip and slightly bucking his hips into your mouth. He must’ve been getting close, too.

From that moment on, you were desperate to make Luke finish. You abandoned your slow and gentle place, and took his entire cock down your throat. You silently gagged, and bobbed your head up and down, making sure to suck a bit longer on his leaking tip. You grabbed his balls in your right hand and squeezed, keeping your left hand on his upper thigh.

“Fuck,” Luke murmured, just under his breath. You sucked harder in response. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“What is going on, dude?” Percy questioned. “You’re stressing me out.”

Luke glanced over at his chat again.

Luke flipped a middle finger to his camera, and gave a playful, “Chat, you all suck.” Obviously, he loved his fans and was eternally grateful for their support. It was just fun to mess around with them and feign a love hate relationship. It did make him a bit anxious, however, that everyone easily picked up on the fact that something was affecting Luke. It didn’t exactly help that he was really close to finishing and was starting to lose track of what was happening in the game. All he could feel was his cock going in and out and in and out of your soft lips, that were now coated in a mixture of salvia and his precum. It was just about driving him insane.

You, on the other hand, were knuckle deep inside your own cunt and sucking Luke off with so much fervour your jaw was starting to ache. But you loved the feeling. And you were determined to get him off. Now.

Suddenly, Luke felt the familiar feeling build inside himself. Before he realized it was happening, he was shooting thick ropes down your eager throat. “Fuck!” he screamed, legs shaking and eyes squeezing shut. He shuddered and gasped for air as you did not let up on your pace, sucking every last drop of cum from him.

He realized how fucking weird this whole ordeal must’ve looked to his many (many, many) viewers.

Instead of confronting what just happened, he slammed his mouse on the End Stream button and shut off his computer, without so much as a goodbye. He pushed his chair back and grabbed your shoulders, pulling you up to your feet.

You smiled at him sweetly, a sheen of sweat covering your entire body. Luke leaned down and kissed you hungrily.

“Y/n,” he said, once he was out of breath from such an intense kiss. “I.. Need. To be inside of you. And you can never, ever do that again.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed innocently. “Kinda seemed like you really liked it though.”

“Oh, shut up.” Luke said with a grin. “Bed. Now.”

You obliged, heading over to his comfy queen sized bed, unaware that you were about to have the most mind blowing sex of your entire life.

authors note: aaaaa ok. first of all i’d like to apologize. i have not proofread this at all and i wrote each chunk on separate days. i will proofread it eventually and fix the errors lmao.

also! now that all the ~lore~ to this AU is sorted, if you ever wanna send me twitchstreamer!luke specific prompts, i would ADORE THAT.

thank you all again for reading !!!!! <3

taglist: @notacluelessblonde00 @lilyirlevans

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan #percy jackson #pjo #jemiswriting #why am i so embarassed to post this…#oh wait i know #it’s bc i cannot write smut to save my life LOL! :)

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brailsthesmolgurl · 1 year ago

Text

DAMNATION

A legend foretold that the princess' heart is the only way to save his people. What happens when he refuses to take her heart when he had foolishly fell in love with her? But, what if she wanted to give his people the life that they deserved? Warnings: Angst, No Comfort, Death of Character, Blood and Gore, you might let out a tear or two, there could be an alternate ending in a parallel universe. Slight Spoiler for Rafayel's lore.

"Rafayel, please, please, please let me help your people." She sniffled, eyes and nose a hue of red as she held onto the sleeves of the God of the Sea. They had been at this argument for days, and time is not exactly in Rafayel's favour. His people are dying, and her heart, is the only thing that could save his kind from extinction.

It has to be out of her own will, they said. And here he is, watching y/n with his eyes that had taken up a shade of dark purple. The lack of lighting within her chambers had given him a good camouflage for his frown. He got her, to surrender her heart by her own will. But, Rafayel could not do it.

His right hand reached up to wipe the tears falling down her cheeks and he spoke softly, as if to conjure up whatever willpower he had left within his system to convince her to stop talking about this. "My love, you know I could not bear to lose you. I know my people may be in pain and suffrage, but I also know that you deserve the world. With me."

"BUT I ALREADY SAID I CAN!" Y/n shouted, the grabbed the candle holder by her bedside table and threw it across the room, her tears are now flowing like streams down her cheeks. Rafayel held her as she collapsed into his arms, sobbing and curling into a ball. Her voice a hushed whisper as she spoke. "How is living here any better than being dead? I am constantly locked in my tower, I had only ever been out whenever you are around and I just can't find myself to live like this anymore."

Her sigh ached Rafayel's heart, it hurts him deeply to watch her cry and to watch her make such a decision for him, for his people. He was caught up in between, eyes wandering across her dark room as the last source of lighting was put out. The moonlight however, casted a silvery-bluish sheen into the room, making the overall room more gloomy than it already is.

Rafayel took in a deep breath, muttering something about 'there must be another way to this', and he used his long index finger to lift up her chin, so her eyes meet his. "My love, I want you to stay put right here. I will be back by dawn tomorrow and we shall make a final decision on this. Please, heed my advice and just stay here alright? I will be back for you, as always my quintessence."

He placed a kiss on her forehead, her cheek and lastly on her lips. Just like how he would always comfort her. Pulling back, he noticed the way her eyes struggled to open and with that, he slowly laid her back onto her bed, and tucked her in. She must be exhausted from the amount of crying she had for the night. Smoothing his hand over her silky brown hair, he presented a sad smile, eyes wavering while he looked at her for one last time for the night.

He had to make a choice, either it would be to sacrifice her or to sacrifice his people. Both bringing an equally heavy burden to his heart and soul. Call him a god, they said. But he is no longer one as he harbored such selfish thoughts to his own desire. Putting on his mask, he got off of the bed, stood at the window and then plunge down into the waters below.

...

It has been a few hours, and y/n rose from her bed, still groggy from her sleep. She looked out of her window to find her windows were widely opened, the moon shining brightly and she wondered to herself when did Rafayel left. It should be a couple of hours ago as the last thing she recalled was his lips on her face. And she recalled meeting him right after dinner time ended.

A whistling tune was heard from outside of her window, a tune so melodic that she was enchanted to approach her window sill. Her hands glided over the smooth stone slab and she peeked her head out before she was met with a boy in the waters below her towers. The scales on his body signified that he is a Lemurian, just like Rafayel.

"What are you doing here?" Y/n panicked, eyes darting all over her surroundings to scan for any witnesses around. You see, if Lemurians were caught, they would be pawned off to the wealthy, as it showcases the sign of one's wealth. And that was how Rafayel met y/n. But y/n knew that possessing a Lemurian would not grant her a new status nor the freedom she had longed for, hence, she freed him after they had promised to find each other again in the future.

"My name is Arvia---" Before he could even finish, he coughed, desperately holding onto his chest as he heaved for his breath. "I came to---" Another cough, one of his hand sprung out from the water to close his mouth, to silence his coughs as he did not want to draw any unwanted attention. As he withdrew his hand, y/n gasped. Crimson stain on his pale white hands, people on land may have identify it as lung infection, but she knew that Lemurians are leaning towards the grim reaper's will.

"Please, please my quintessence, I know My Highness would not let us near you." Blood trickled down the sides of his lips as he spoke. "But I plead you, as my mother has been in suffrage for the past few days, she could not speak anymore, let alone sing. All of my siblings are met with ill coughs, just like mine, carrying crimson taints. I beg of you, shall you have the means to save Lemuria, please meet us at the sea stacks as dawn strikes."

Another cough comes at the end of his sentence and she watched as he harshly pounded his chest, as if doing that would ease his cough better. "I'll be there!" Y/n responded without hesitation and her determined eyes were met with Arvia's aquamarine ones. The young merman wiped the blood off of his lips and he nodded his head before he dived back into the water, a hint of his tail peeking out as he swam back into the deep waters.

Y/n rushed back into her room and opened her wooden wardrobe, eyeing the gowns that she owns and picking one out that is made of the thinnest material possible. She wanted her movements to be stealthy and languid, hence the thin material would come to be more useful than a heavier drape. She changed into the white gown, and grabbed her fur coat to drape it over her small stature. Glancing at herself for the last time in the mirror situated next to her wardrobe, she felt a pang of sadness coarsing through her body.

She has chosen her own journey, she has decided on her own death. But it was all for the better right? One small sacrifice for the greater good. Staring at her own reflection, she realised her tears had streamed down her face. Why is she crying? She had no idea. But perhaps it has something to do with the ending of her life. No matter how convinced she is of her death being a greater sacrifice, she could never forgive herself for going against her lover's will.

She wiped off her tears and huffed. "This is it. My death shall come with a greater meaning. Rafayel would understand eventually." Before she could change her mind, she grabbed the rope Rafayel had made for her and she tossed it out of the window to climb down from her tower.

...

Perhaps the gown was not the best idea. Strong winds and thin gowns are not exactly complimentary to one another. Her fur coat however, ended mid waist so the length below her waist was bare to the wind's torture. It took her quite a while to arrive to the location that was appointed by the merman.

The huge rock sat in the middle of the sea, unwavering as the waves crashed against it. The sky was dark but along the silhouttes, there was hints of an orangy-yellow shade, a sign that dawn is approaching. Y/n took off her footwear and laid them onto the sand, and she took off her coat to lay it next to her footwear. The wind batted against her whole body even more harshly, making her shiver and tremble as she made her way into the waters.

As the sun started to rise even more, she noticed a few heads emerged from the further ends of the vast ocean, as if watching her as she made her way towards the rock. Arvia then bobbed his head out of the waters and he spoke. "You came, my quintessence. Come, take your seat on the rock." He looked ghastly, eyes sunken in and scales fading of its usual bright colours. He held out his hand and guided y/n up towards the rock.

Another merman surfaced from the depths of the ocean and y/n recognised this merman. He was always stuck to Rafayel's hip when she met Rafayel for the first couple of times. She never got to know of his name but she assumed that he plays an important role in guiding and supervising Rafayel's actions. "I believe we had met for a few times, when I was on land with My Highness. My name is Amund and I was summoned by my people to perform the sacrificial ritual on you."

His eyes glinted a sheen of red as he spoke to her. Was this the guy that Rafayel had warned her about? 'My people are of gentle nature, but I am afraid one shall lead them all towards perdition.' Rafayel's voice rung in her head. "Do you, my quintessence, know the risk of such sacrificial ritual?" Amund questioned her, eyes raking over her body in an uncomfortable manner.

"I will be able to save Lemuria right?" She responded, eyes filled with hope. "Will I?" She second guessed herself and Amund said nothing but nodded. He raised his hand to beckon to his fellow Lemurians and some of them started approaching her. "Wait, what is happening?"

"As long as my quintessence is at will to give us the God of Sea's heart, we will ensure that the sacrificial ritual is done with the utmost care and respect you deserve." A dagger appeared in Amund's hand. Silver dagger with red crystals adorning it's hilt, it definitely does look like a ceremonial dagger.

"Are you going to drown me first? Rafayel told me that as long as I am willing to give out my heart, then I could be drowned prior to the ceremony. Is it not?" She remembered Rafayel told her some details about how the ceremony takes place but given she was not drowned yet, she was curious if there was a different course of ceremonial action. "My quintessence, as I mentioned earlier, you deserve the utmost care and respect for your sacrifice for the people of Lemuria." He held up the dagger and gave a look towards the other mermans that were surrounding her. "Make sure she stays still throughout the ceremony." The mermans then grabbed her arms and legs and they stretched her limply across the rock. Y/n however, knew that she could not back up anymore at this point.

But, what she did not know was that this so-called ceremony was nothing more than a mere revenge to be taken upon Rafayel. The god who chose to leave his people to pursue his love with a mere mundane. Amund, does not approve of this relationship and neither does he want that to ever happen again. He wants to watch Rafayel suffer like how his people did.

"Stay still my quintessence, this would hurt." Without another word, Amund stabbed the dagger into her collarbone and y/n screamed in pain, tears started flowing from her face but she could not move as she was held down tightly. The pain did not stopped as the dagger dragged from her collarbone to the sides of her breasts. Her screams never falter just like her blood that never stopped flowing, staining the rock and eventually dripped into the ocean.

...

Rafayel had returned to her chambers but she was nowhere to be found. "Y/N? Y/N?" He called out to her name quietly as he walked towards her bed. Flipping the sheets, he was only met with the sight of her pillow stacked together to form a silhouette of her. He turned around and noticed the wardrobe that was sprung open, and her satin lounging attire tousled into a ball on the hardwood floorings. Confused, he looked over to the window sill and his guesses were right, she had escaped from her tower.

Without hesitation, the God of the Sea jumped out of the window and plunged right into the waters, not even caring if that had caused a huge splash to alert the guards as he had no time left to spare. He had to rescue her.

Earlier on, when Rafayel had left her chambers, he went back to Lemuria to speak with Amund. When he arrived at Armund's door, Arvia came out of the house, eyes widened when he was face-to-face with the lilac-haired God. "Your highness." Arvia half bowed and went along his way. Swimming past Rafayel and off into the weeds that were littered around the towns of Lemuria.

"What was Arvia doing here?" Rafayel asked as he closed the door to Amund's abode and finally meeting Amund's eye.

"His family was in dire need of some pearl essence. His mother's throat was ruined and his siblings are all ridden with coughs that drains their blood." Amund responded as he placed vials and bottles of medicine back onto the shelves. The clinking and clanking of the vials and bottles are the only sounds filling the silence before he continued. "Your Highness, you cannot delay any further. Our people are dying. And they desperately need the heart."

"Amund, listen." Rafayel spoke in a stern tone, hands running through his lilac strands as he looked frustrated. "I can't bring myself to do it. I just can't." The vial containing the pearl essence floated out of Amund's grasp and he looked at Rafayel with widened eyes. There comes the shouting, "You would rather watch Lemuria wilt just to save a woman that you have feelings for?! How dare you say that?! What do you think the people of Lemuria would have thought, that their one and only hope has decided to betray them all for the sake of a mere mortal?!"

Rafayel winced at Amund's booming voice, although he looked saddened with the situation at hand, his voice maintained the same as his posture, still and calm. "There shall be another way to change fate. I will do whatever I can to save my people but without the cost of losing my beloved bride. The decision is final." He turned to leave but stopped, whipped his head back and he warned. "Anyone who acted against my orders shall die upon my hand."

...

The waves batted against the shores, feigning a scene where the water desperately wants to come onto the shore. Just like how the mermans once dreamed of wanting to walk on land and having to dive back into the waters based on their own will. But they were bound, bound to the waters as coming onto land would not impose any leverage for them.

Rafayel ran across the beach, eyes searching every inch of land and water to find his beloved. The sun is rising and the pastel skies no longer gave Rafayel a sense of comfort but it added onto his paranoia, assumptions of the worst case scenario constantly teasing their way into his mind.

His heart suddenly hurt like someone had shot him with a canon ball and he fell in his steps, clutching onto his chest as he struggled to breathe. Not long after when he regained his breath, something felt different in him. Something felt like a--- a beating heart. Rafayel gasped at the feeling as it further confirmed his nightmare.

He ran as fast as his mundane legs could carry him down the shore and passing a cliff, he witnessed a figure, sprawled out on a rock limply, and he screamed. "Y/N!"

He trudged the waters and climbed up the rock, not even caring that the barnacles had sliced off pieces of his sole. He did not care at all as the scene in front of him would trigger bloodshed afterwards. Y/n laid on the rock, eyes closed, but blood trailed from her eyes, nostrils, and ears, staining her once beautiful white dress into a bright crimson red. Her chest bared a gaping hole exactly where the heart was supposed to be situated.

Rafayel reached out his shaky hands to touch her cheeks and in that moment, he got a brief flashback of her last moments. Her screams echoed through his mind, but none of her screams mouthed the word 'STOP'. Amund was there, alongside with a couple of other mermans that were holding her down. Amund was slicing into her skin, carelessly opening up a big hole on the left side of her chest just to retrieve the heart from her.

Rafayel's tears streamed when the flashback showed y/n stopped screaming and twitching when Amund grabbed the heart out of her body, holding it high up in the air as if it was some trophy earned. And just like that, the flashback ended and Rafayel was snapped back into reality, with her body laid right in his arms. He whimpered, but no sounds were emitted from his throat, his cries were silenced by the throbbing pain within his heart.

Watching her pale and faceless expression, Rafayel held her face close to his neck, getting his body stained with her blood like how he would always get paint stained on his clothes whenever he was painting portraits of her. But this time, he did not want the stain to be washed off. He did not want it to fade either, as it would remind him of the pain his own people had brought upon him.

"Why?" He asked the air, as you would no longer be the one to reply to him. "Why would they do this to you?" His voice a hushed whisper as the ocean started to rage. "Why couldn't they at least make it painless for you?" He was referring to the drowning that should have taken place prior to the ceremony of removing her heart. It would have hurt way lesser than this, it would have been more comforting, it would have lessen the bloodshed that would be committed by Rafayel.

"I will always, always wait for you my love. No matter how long it takes." He stood up, with her still in his arms, and he looked out into the horizon, staring into the waves that would soon remind his people of his identity of being the God of the Sea. The dark clouds started to close in, accompanied with lightning strikes that fears the men at seas. Rafayel held her lifeless body, clinging onto whatever warmth that was left from her body before he mustered up the courage to say this. His eyes turned from the usual blueish-purplish shade to a dark set of purple pupils. "I shall bring damnation to my people as how they had brought damnation to me."

Sequel here: Retribution

Parallel Universe Ending is up! Read through Retribution and you shall find the link for the parallel not-so-angsty ending!

And there you go my darlings, I wanna watch that tear drop :)

I think I will come out with an alternate not-so-angsty ending if i feel like it sometime in the near future. Lemme know what you guys think hehe <3. If any of you fancy for any requests of similar calliber or even new ideas, drop me a dm :>

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel angst #rafayel lnds #lnds angst #lnds #zayne love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel sfw #rafayel x reader

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

ur james roommate fic (amazing btw) just gave me an idea

what about pre relationship marauders and there all roommates or something or maybe just one of them a roommates with reader but they all like her and they are all watching a movie like “hey were is she” and one of them answers oh she’s just gone round her mates for a film night or something

then a few hours later she comes stumbling in drunk in a tight as hell dress and heels and they get shocked cause she’s normally so quiet and now here she is giggling and making all these jokes and she was out at a club and who is the lady???

if not that’s totally fine bae 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: intoxication

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 967 words

“Think we ought to check up on her?” James asks halfway through the film.

Remus doesn’t need to ask who he’s talking about. “Why?”

“It’s getting late.” James frowns out the window, where darkness has well and truly settled. “She’s never out this late. Wouldn’t we be pretty shit roommates if she was dead in a ditch somewhere and we didn’t even know?”

“What the hell do you plan to do, Prongs,” Sirius drawls, “send out a search party? It’s hardly eleven.”

James looks like he’s thinking a search party’s not such a bad idea. “She said she was going to her mate’s place, and I’m pretty sure it’s book club night. Maybe they’re just going late.”

Sirius scoffs. “You mean to say that on a Saturday night, she got so caught up talking about books that her meeting ran long?” He shakes his head, but his smile is fond. “What a fuckin’ nerd.”

Remus cocks an eyebrow, jutting his chin toward the television. “We’re in on a Saturday night. What does that make us?”

James laughs as Sirius huffs, crossing his arms as he leans back against the couch. “Least we’re not talking about books.”

By the time they finish their film, each of the boys is dead tired. Still, no one argues when James proposes starting another, an unspoken current of worry keeping them in the living room as the night wears on with no sign of your return.

A couple hours later, James and Sirius have both fallen asleep, James drooling slightly on the top of Sirius’ head, when Remus hears keys in the door. Sirius stirs as your keys twist this way and that. There’s a stream of muffled curse words before you finally get it, the lock sliding free and the door swinging open.

“Merlin,” Sirius breathes at the sight of you, rousing James. Remus is inclined to agree.

You’re in a tiny little dress that Remus would have never been able to picture in your closet, the bodice tight and the hem barely skimming past your buttcheeks. You teeter in the door on high heels like a newborn fawn, unphased as if that’s the way you’ve been getting around all evening. You curse quietly when your shoes make a clacking sound against the floor, reaching down to slide them off. Remus can tell from the way you flex your feet that they’ve been hurting you. You start toward your bedroom cautiously, on tiptoe, and it’s a testament to your unusual state that you don’t notice the boys until you’ve nearly passed them on the couch.

“Oh,” you say, still quiet as though you’re afraid to disturb some unseen sleeper. “You’re up. Hi!”

A laugh bubbles up out of Sirius. “Hi, gorgeous,” he says. “How was your night?”

“Ugh.” You grin, shoulders drooping as your eyes go wistful. “It was amazing. How was yours?”

“Not bad.” Sirius can’t seem to stop smiling, and James is the next of them to find his voice.

“Angel,” he says, blinking as though he’s not quite sure he’s actually woken up, “are you drunk?”

You go shy, and Remus’ heart warms with incandescent, aching fondness at the sweet sheepishness that touches your smile. “Just like, a tiny little bit,” you giggle, like you think you might get in trouble and are thrilled with your rebellion.

James shakes his head at you, mystified, and Remus scoots over, patting the spot next to him on the couch. “C’mere, love, talk to us for a bit.”

You’re happy to comply, though not quite as happy as Sirius when you stumble on your way over and he gets to put his hands on your hips, guiding you to a sitting position. You cross your legs under you, and James flushes as each of the boys try to look anywhere other than your exposed underwear. You lean your shoulder into Remus slightly; he leans back.

“What’d you get up to tonight?” He raises his eyebrows, delighting when you blush. Your lipstick has worn down to the liner, and you’ve got some sort of dark makeup smudged beneath your eyes. It takes everything in him not to brush his finger under your lashes and fix it. “We thought it was book club night.”

“No, we pushed that ‘til tomorrow,” you say. “Tonight was real club night.” You let out a little laugh, and Remus grins more because of that than the joke itself.

“I didn’t know you liked going out,” James says. “You haven’t done it in all the time we’ve lived here.”

You make an incredulous sound. “Sure I have.”

James’ eyebrows shoot straight up to his hairline. “When?”

You shrug. “I mean, not all the time. Once a month, maybe.” Your lips curve upward in a look Remus has never seen on your face before. It’s making it difficult to breathe. “What, you just always assume I’m in my room if you don’t see me leave? S’that it?”

“Sorta,” James mumbles, and Sirius grins at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and stealing you from Remus.

“We’ll be more careful not to underestimate you in the future, sweet thing,” he promises, eyes half-lidded in that way that always reduces you to a blushing, stuttering mess.

You don’t seem affected this time. “Good,” you reply, batting your lashes at him. Sirius blanches.

James laughs at him. “Alright, I’ve got to see you in action,” he declares. “If we go out next weekend, will you come with us?”

You tilt your head consideringly. “Sure,” you say, “but I don’t think many guys are going to come up to me if I’m with you lot. You’ll scare them all away.”

Sirius scoffs. “Yeah, I’d fucking hope so.”

“That’s alright, love,” Remus says. “We’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

(cont)

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simpforsoap · 1 year ago

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Monstrous Lovers- Part 1

Part Two Part Three

It was honest a shot in the dark when you posted that ad, not wanting to let go of your dream house quite yet. However, you couldn’t deny that it was getting harder and harder to make the bills by yourself. There was quite a bit of back and forth between sending the ad out or not, but after a simple post online, you felt it was a good deal, your best friend thinking you were crazy, but you posted it anyways.

Roommate Wanted

1 or more bedrooms, separate bathrooms ranch styled home in the country. Rent 2500/month includes utilities (including, internet, streaming sites, and electricity). Message me if interested, application and interview required prior to approval.

Bit about me: lone female, mixture of at home and in shop work, quiet lifestyle. No pets.

Text preferred if between hours 9 pm to 4 am. Thank you! (xxx) xxx-xxxx.

-----

Soap couldn’t believe his eyes, half blaming it on the tiring mission they had just finished and possible lack of food, but the ad seemed like a great deal. Maybe a little high in price, but he reread that ad three times before nudging Kyle’s shoulder. Gaz’s bleary eyes turned to look at him, half awake.

“What’s up?” his voice was filled with exhaustion, but Johnny paid it no mind (his own energy seemingly endless sometimes) as he turned his phone screen letting Gaz squint and blink a few times to focus on the bright screen.

Soap waited for Gaz to look up at him with an eye brow raised before speaking, “check it out, she posted this two days ago looking for a roommate. Seems like a good deal, maybe a bit pricey but it’s not like we can’t afford it.”

“I mean, yeah it’s a good deal and seems like a good idea, but…I don’t think ghost or the captain will go for it.” Gaz shrugged his shoulders, reading through the ad one more time, unable to deny the way his stomach seemed to twist with the idea of coming back to a home, not just the base.

“I think they’ll agree when they see it.” Soap shrugged, reading through the ad again, even going as far to click into your profile and scroll through some of the public photos you had.

Soap couldn’t stop the giddy feeling running through him as he waited for them to get back to the base, wanting to talk with Ghost and Price regarding this steal of a deal ad.

-------------

You were exhausted, after a long day of several interviews regarding the spare rooms you had, you were beginning to feel like you were gonna have to settle for either the roudy young couple in love, who happened to be expecting or the rather reclusive and silent male who you interviewed. They seemed nice, but you weren’t fully sold on the idea of one of them as roommates.

As you sat in the cafe, a cup of cold tea sitting in front of you, you weren’t expecting your phone to ring. You sighed once before picking it up, “hello?”

“Yeah, I got this number from an ad for some rooms for rent. I wanted to know if it was still available and if we could possible tour it.” The voice was deep, a very slight hoarness to it that made you sit up a bit.

“Uh, yeah we can tour it but I would prefer to do a meet and greet first. I’m at the cafe on the corner of sullivan and market if you want to meet me here.” You glanced at the clock on the wall, seeing it was only a little past two meaning you could handle waiting around a bit longer.

“Perfect, we’ll be there in ten.” Before you could say anymore, the line hung up.

You sat there for a moment, contemplating the risk you were running before deciding ‘what’s the worst that can happen?’

-------

You sat there playing on your phone, having ordered a new tea as yours had gone cold. As you sat there, you jumped when the chair in front of you pulled out, looking up quickly, alarmed before blinking a few times in shock. “Uh…can I help you sir..or uh..sirs?”

You looked up at the men, four of them as the largest of them sat in the chair. You could look at them and tell they were hybrids. It wasn’t uncommon in the area anymore of the hybrids, but you were a little surprised as they sat at your table, thinking briefly how you believed hybrids to stay with one another. The seemingly leader of the four, held his hand out, his lone dragon wing tucked tightly behind his back, tail naturally coiling around the leg of his chair to not take up too much space, “John Price, I believe we spoke on the phone earlier regarding the rooms for rent?”

You blinked a few more times, watching the one with the mowhawk take a seat to your left, the other winged one sitting to your right while the one in an all black mask with his hood up stood behind John. “oh…uh right yes, sorry I…I wasn’t..”

You trailed off, not wanting to sound rude, the one to your left spoke up next a small laugh bubbling in his throat, “no worries, lass! Name’s Johnny, but you can call me Soap, that there is Kyle, or Gaz if you wanted to and the one back there is Ghost. We seen your ad for a roommate or possibly more, we’re very interested.”

You gave a small nervous smiling nodding as you looked at Johnny, then to Price and then Kyle and Ghost, “right, yes. I don’t know if I put it in the ad or not, but it’s a five bedroom ranch styles home, each of us would have their own rooms of course and their own bathrooms. Rent would be 2500 a month, which I know is a bit high, but I tried to throw in as much as I could with that as I could.”

Price nodded giving a small smile to try and put you at ease, “course. Now, the four of us would be the roommates, the price is not a concern at all. We are active duty, often in and out of the home due to work, but we want a place to come back to as home. Something a little more homey than the base is.”

You nodded giving a small smile, “of course, I understand that. I am a hair stylist so sometimes I have clients in home, but most times I work in my shop. I have no pets or anything, house sits on 20 acres of forest land, much of it has been untouched. I’m open to changing things on the property but I don’t want to adjust too much as I like the feel it has.”

You noticed the way Price seemed to take lead, “course, we don’t expect you to change for us love. Now, to get the elephant in the room out of the way, as you can tell we are hybrids. I personally am a dragon, Soap here is a werewolf, Gaz is a harpy and Ghost back here is a wraith. Would that be a dealbreaker for you? And it’s completely okay with being honest.”

You were quiet for a moment, thinking it over before shaking your head a bit, “no, it’s not a deal breaker. I’m not really sure how that works or anything but I’m willing to learn.” You gave a smile, trying to put them at ease, not seeing the way the four of them seemed to look between one another before nodding. “Now, would you like a tour of the house?”

Soap gave a large smile, showing off his sharpened canines, “Would love one lass.”

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bamboozledbird · 25 days ago

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oᥒᥴᥱ ι'm ყoᥙrs ι'm ᥲᥣᥕᥲყs ყoᥙrs //stiles stilinski imagine characters: stiles stilinski, fem!reader, mentioned malia tate pairing(s): stiles x you word count: 4k tags: exes to ???, hurt some comfort, set in s5 warnings: some light emotional cheating, i think that's it, sad boy hours, *pats stiles’s head* this boy can fit so much trauma in here

a/n: long time no see. i've missed you my babies, and thank you so much for all the love while i was gone. i'm back with my usual overdose of angst and em dashes. i can't help it; i have a sickness. also, the timing of when stiles and malia got together is a little fudged, so they probably started dating in 4b.

It’s an icy slice of fear that wakes you up. A white flash of ‘fight or flight’ behind your sleep-sticky lids. A rattling that doesn’t belong to the pitter-patter of sleet or the whiplash of wind against your bedroom window. You sit up on your forearm, peek out from behind your fleece blanket, and pray until you’re nauseous that there isn’t a pair of glowing eyes waiting for you on the other side of the glass.

The sleet leaves angry rivulets in the dirt-smudged panes. Sad little lines of streaming water, flooding in time with the choppy squall—you can’t help but think it looks like weeping.

A soft sigh falls from your mouth and stirs the stilted air in the room: No skulking eyes…but a foreboding sense of unease still looms above your head like the plumes of steely clouds outside your window. They swallow every trace of starlight and shift every so often in your peripheral vision, almost like they’re alive.

The rattling sounds again, soft but deafening in the darkness. It’s a familiar sound, someone scrambling on the loose tiling of your roof, but a forgotten one. It's strange, sweet-sharp, and out of place in your current reality.

A noise that shouldn’t exist outside of a memory.

Stiles spills into your room and lands on his knees, dripping water onto the hardwood floor. His hair is plastered to his forehead from the storm outside, and the dark clouds are a mocking reflection of the look on his face.

The moon has eclipsed all the sunlight in his eyes, and it feels so, so cold.

For a moment, you think you’re dreaming, or maybe you’re still stuck in that luminescent oil slick spill between sleep and consciousness. Stiles looks like something from a dream—from a nightmare. He’s a boy, but he isn’t. He’s there, but he isn’t. He’s lost to something you can’t see, swept up in the storm and turned into something else.

The glow of your phone illuminates the pinch of your brow, the squint of your bleary eyes. 3:27 am. Stiles used to sneak in through your window a couple times a week, even during the day, just to avoid the parental inquisition. He still does sometimes, rarely, only when Beacon Hills is on the verge of collapsing—and it always seems to be 3 in the morning.

He only ever needs you at 3 in the morning now.

It makes you feel a little sick, the reminder that the only string tying you together now is barbed wire.

You sit up in your bed and wait for Stiles to say something—to move—but he doesn’t. He just sits there, soaked to the bone on his knees, and stares at something beyond the shifting shadows on your bedroom walls.

“Stiles?”

Stiles doesn’t reply. Doesn’t even make a sound.

You crawl out of your bed and sit down on the floor next to him, draping a woven blanket over his shoulders. It almost matches his flannel, blue and checkered. It’s a little thing that would’ve made you smile before, mostly because Stiles would get this warm look in his eyes when you did: so fond it felt like worship.

It’s fall. The air smells like apples and earth. You watch the shadows of little fish swim in jagged circles through murky lake water. Stiles is a warm presence against your side.

He buries his nose in your hair and hums, “You like the pieces.”

A fish breaks from the group and bubbles near the surface. Its silver scales gleam in the setting sun: a piece of a fractured landscape, a detail that steals all the color in your peripheral vision.

You watch the fish swirl for a moment, almost like it’s dancing, and then shrug with a little grin. “I guess.”

You feel Stiles smile against your temple.

“Me too.”

Now, the only color your retinas can detect is black.

Stiles’s pupils swallow his face, and they stick to everything like tar. Seep into the room and stain the moonlight until the blue haze over his skin looks more sickly than luminous. He looks alarmingly corpse-like, so still on your floor, slimy from the storm keening outside—hollowed out from the storm rotting inside.

You sigh after a moment; a soft little sound to break the surface of strained silence coating the room. “Come on.”

It doesn’t take much prodding. Stiles bends to your guiding hands mindlessly and sits down on the edge of your bed without so much as a grunt. Pliant and robotic in the same breath. Ever the paradox, your boy is.

Though.

He’s not, really. Yours, that is.

Not anymore.

Not for a long time.

“Everything’s so fucked up.”

Stiles is quiet, but his whisper still startles you. His voice is raw—and maybe, you’d really convinced yourself that he was dead. It feels like he is sometimes. At least, a version of him. Stiles, in the mole-speckled flesh, he’s a ghost of the boy you knew, a killer of the figment boy you never lost. A paradox. So difficult to read. Impossible to hold on to.

Stiles doesn’t notice that you’ve gone silent, but he doesn’t really seem to notice anything beyond the wet film over his eyes.

“I don’t…I don’t see a way out this time. I don’t know…” he scrubs a hand over his face and looks infinitely older than eighteen, “I don’t think I can fix it—any of it.”

You’re reminded, briefly, of the night he broke up with you. When you looked up, saw the look on his face, and you knew. You have the same sick feeling in your stomach now, and you want to crawl inside yourself until the flip-flopping of your intestines stops—to wring them into little knots until there’s nothing left.

Stiles looks like he feels about the same, so small on your bed for such a lanky man.

“What?” You pull your knees to your chest and hold onto your shins so that you don’t reach for him. “The Nemeton? We’ll find it again…eventually, and—”

“No,” Stiles grits his teeth and closes his eyes, “I mean, yes, but it’s…everything. Everything’s falling apart.”

“Not everything. You’ve always got—”

“Not anymore.” Stiles gets that dead-inside look behind his eyes again, and your stomach turns. “You and me…and Scott—”

Your sheets whisper against your legs as you shift towards him. “Scott?”

You’ve seen Stiles wear pretty much every expression under the sun—backlit by shitty diner lights, laughing; tangled up in navy sheets, panting; drenched in sweat, sobbing—but god. The way Stiles looks now, like his soul has been bleached from his bones, drained from his eyes with a power drill, it’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen. Worse than the when the Nogitsune stole his face, because it’s Stiles. Whatever this skeleton on strings is, it’s him.

“I fucked up.” Stiles whispers so softly you can barely hear him over the cracks in his voice, “I fucked up so bad.”

It takes you a second to realize that he’s talking about Scott. Dumb, considering you asked, but you’ve imagined him saying that to you so many times it almost feels like a memory—like he’s talking about you.

You clear your throat and pull at a loose string on your blanket until it snaps. “He’ll get over it. He always does.”

Stiles just shakes his head, keeps his eyes trained on his muddy sneakers. “Not this time.”

Your fingers twitch with the impulse to grab his hand. “What happened, Stiles?”

“I…” Stiles rubs his hand over his mouth, trying to wipe away the taste of his thoughts. He swallows and then stands, tugging a little on his wet hair until it sticks up in random tufts—it would be cute under any other circumstances, if Stiles didn’t have a disturbingly manic look in his eyes and a desperate tumble of words flooding from his split lip. “The ends justify the means was just a thought experiment, right? Machiavelli was an academic, not a soldier—you know what kind of people actually practice Machiavellianism? Stalin, Mao—Peter ‘fuckin’ killed my own niece’ Hale.”

Your brow scrunches as you try to find the invisible path connecting all his seemingly disjointed thoughts. “Stiles—”

“And I know I rag on Scott all the time for being too soft,” Stiles sneakers squeak against the floor as he continues pacing, without a breath or so much as a glance in your direction. He might as well be pontificating to the darkness. “I mean, fuck, how many times have I said it’d be easier if we just killed the psycho? A dozen? Definitely enough for one of those stupid fuckin’ ��take a shot’ memes.”

Stiles stops abruptly mid-step and finally looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time tonight. His Bambi eyes look so big right now, completely open and boundless on his sweet face, like the child he hasn’t been since sophomore year. “I didn’t…I don’t really mean it, you know. I don’t actually want...”

His voice is so small it breaks your heart.

“I know,” you say softly, coaxing him to stay here with you, in the moment.

Stiles blinks at you slowly and hangs his gaze on your face like it’s the moon. “I know it would kill him…feeling like this.” He spits it out like ‘this’ is something vile, poison on his tongue.

Your stomach sinks, and a prickling sensation of hot-cold settles through your sinew. You lick your drying lower lip and methodically rub your clammy palms up and down your thighs. “Feeling like what?”

Stiles’s momentary dip into the present fades with the next blink of his clumped lashes.

He starts pacing again, bending and flexing his fingers with twitching gestures that clarify little and worry you greatly. “I get it, totally support it as a concept. I mean, the greater good outweighs a scumbag or two—conceptually, because how do you really define scumbag? And that’s if you use a qualifier; real consequentialists think it’s totally fine to kill whoever the fuck you want as long as it’s in the name of a good outcome.”

You blink a few times and drag your tongue over your teeth, “Right…killing innocent people: bad. That’s the general consensus.”

Stiles’s eyes dart back to your face. “What if they aren’t?”

“Aren’t what?”

Maybe, if it weren’t almost four in the morning, you’d be able to follow his tangential breakdown. Maybe, if you hadn’t become dependent on his quiet sleep-babbling to fall asleep at night, if he hadn’t become the only thing capable of bleaching the nightmares from your eyelids, your temples wouldn’t be throbbing so violently. But it is almost 4 am, and you haven’t fallen asleep next to Stiles in over a year—no matter how right he looks when he sits down next to you on your bed.

Stiles’s throat bobs with his swallow before he says, “What if they aren’t innocent?”

“Stiles,” you grab one of his hands and search his face, scan every solemn line and curve for some semblance of meaning, “what’s going on?”

Stiles chews on his bottom lip and lets out a ragged breath, going stiff—bracing himself for the fallout. His voice is thick with fear when he finally whispers, “What if they were going to hurt someone you cared about?”

You let out a heavy sigh and study his expression, eyes flickering across the unrelenting question written in his pinched forehead and glassy eyes. “Do the ends justify the means?”

Stiles nods and bites down on his jagged thumbnail, “Yeah.”

You hold Stiles’s gaze so that he can see your eyes, so earnest they almost look pained, and nod, slow and definitive. “Yeah.”

It takes a second, but when his body catches up with his brain, Stiles collapses in on himself. Turns into a ragdoll of relief and wet clothes, and drops his head into his shaking hands.

“F-fuck,” Stiles exhales and wipes his face dry with cruel scrubs of his hands. “Sorry—I just…” he digs his thumbs into his temples and trembles, “I’m losing my fucking mind, and I didn’t know where else to go.” He glances up from his hands, looks so devastatingly lovely as he peers up at you through his wet lashes it hurts, and murmurs, “There wasn’t anywhere else…anyone else. Nobody…”

Stiles shakes his head slightly and clears his throat, but his words are still syrupy with so much meaning when he says, “I don’t really feel like I’m…me anywhere else.” He pauses again, and you forget how to breathe when his gaze refocuses on your eyes. His tongue flicks over his split lip, and then he whispers, “I’m not me unless I’m with you.”

This boy. This boy. He can wreck you without even trying.

You have to reorient yourself before you get stuck on the drizzle of honey in Stiles’s eyes. They’ve always been so…alive. There’s an entire ecosystem in his irises, savanna grass swaying under the glow of sunset. A blackhole in his pupils, bending and distorting your every thought to Stiles, Stiles, Stiles. Stop. Breathe. Count your fingers.

Your arms are around your shins, the air is cold, and Stiles has someone who isn't you.

You still wake up with the taste of him sticking to your teeth, sweet honey and sharp cloves, but it’s never enough. Lately, it lingers like a cavity.

You spent so long thinking you weren’t supposed to be friends, and you weren’t. You were supposed to be together—now you don’t know what you’re supposed to be. How can you belong to a memory?

What does Stiles think when he looks at you now? Does a thought even come?

Does he ache for who you were that Friday at the lake? Does he still love that girl in his arms–orange and warm under the setting sun, blissfully unaware of the end?

Oh, he does.

Stiles aches for you, thinks of you, constantly. He meant what he said; he only feels solid when it's just you, him, and the shiny little bubble that keeps out the rest of the world. He doesn’t feel…real when he’s around other people, pretending like everything’s fine. Like he hasn’t lost every shiny piece of the life he had before his mind was stolen.

That’s how it is for Stiles now; there’s before, and then there’s after. He can feel the schism widening with every single fucked up thing he does. Lately, it feels like that’s the only thing he does: completely and catastrophically fuck up.

The thing is, when they finally got him—it—out, Stiles thought that would be it. Happily ever after. Evil expunged. Demon defeated. End-stop. No page turn. Cheers to the Nemeton. Stiles learned, very quickly, that you can’t purge darkness. It always leaves a mark.

The days after…everything, Stiles discovered that rotting was a real human emotion. He still can’t believe people don’t smell it on him. The remnants of Stiles haven’t stopped putrefying in the Nogistune’s absence, and he just knows, somehow, that something this malignantly alive is contagious. He didn’t want to ruin you—doesn’t, Stiles corrects himself before he can finish the thought—doesn’t want to contaminate something so good with something so sick.

Or maybe…maybe it was because Stiles knew that you’d see it. You’d see it, and you’d leave.

The only clean thing he has is memories. He can’t stain the past. The figment girl in his mind can’t hurt. Can’t die. Can’t run. Stiles keeps you there—or, at least, some version of you, a you he can keep underneath the shelter of his ribcage, where you can watch the sunset turn fish scales into topaz in his maroon jacket, happy, forever.

Stiles can’t really remember the last time he saw you, the real version of you, happy. You must have laughed without him at some point, but he can’t think of anything other than when you were with him. Well, that, and the end. Stiles remembers the end with painful clarity.

You were at a lake. The lake. Somehow, it only occurs to Stiles now how shitty that must’ve been for you. Anyway, you just sat there for a while, and he just listened to the silence wash over the world like a flood until the sun reached its peak. He remembers thinking: Holy fuck, this is what they meant. All those stupid songs and poems. This is what it means to break. Stiles couldn’t stand the way you kept your eyes closed, like you were afraid of seeing the inevitable car crash. If I kiss her, he’d thought, everything will be okay. If I kiss her, she’ll forgive me.

Stiles didn’t kiss you. He just said, “I’m sorry,” and the words hung heavily over your heads. In the harrowing quiet, Stiles thought: I never realized cordial could sound so much like cowardly.

“What are you doing here, Stiles? What is this?”

Your voice drags Stiles from the gutters of his mind, and feels a fresh wave of shame when he hears how tired you sound. What is he doing here? Stiles knew it was a mistake before he even started his Jeep, but the flicker of doubt in Scott’s eyes drowned out his best intentions.

“I just…” Stiles swallows, and his hand moves to scratch at his wounded shoulder reflexively. He…he just needed to be with the only person on the face of this planet that still knew him—who would get it.

You get tired of waiting, and when you speak again, Stiles feels about two inches tall.

“You should be with her.” You say it nicely enough. Polite. No venom to fill the awkward hollowness. Cordial.

Fuck. Stiles fucking hates cordial. He kind of wishes you would yell at him. At least, then, he’d know that you still cared.

Stiles clasps his hands together between his thighs and leans his weight onto his elbows. He probably should be with Malia. No. He definitely should, but he’s not. And right now, like this, he doesn’t want to be.

“She’s not good at…” Stiles clears his throat and sits up a little, “she tries, but she just…can’t.”

It’s not even her fault, and that’s probably the worst part about it. He doesn’t want to be another bad thing that’s happened to Malia Tate, but bad things just seem to be his specialty lately.

“You know why you like her, right?” you say softly, not unkindly, but Stiles thinks he isn’t going to like the answer—mostly, because he’s sure it’s true.

“No.” Stiles pauses and draws a circle on his knee with his pointer finger, “Well, I mean, yeah. Didn’t know you put so much thought into it.”

You don’t bother to dignify such a blatant lie with a direct response. That’s fair, Stiles thinks, and tries not to shrink in on himself.

Instead, you lift your shoulder like it’s made of marble and murmur, “She needs you.”

It’s innocuous enough—sweet, even, under different circumstances—but Stiles feels it like a blade. He clears his throat; it doesn’t help the dryness. He manages to arch a brow as he pushes out a raspy little, “So?”

The corner of your mouth lifts into a small smile; Stiles can still see it quiver. “You’re a control freak,” you bump his knee with your own, and it’s the first place on his body Stiles can actually feel, “and you and I both know she’s never going to be the one to end it.”

That was just like you; even your jokes are wrapped up inside an argument. It always left him frozen in a maddening power struggle between quipping something snarky and kissing you. No one else has ever managed to keep him on the ropes like you, and maybe that’s why no one after has managed to keep his, admittedly, short-attention span for long. After all, Stiles has always liked his sweetness with a little bite.

Of course, now there’s no sweetness between the two of you. It’s all uncomfortable silences and unspoken thoughts that leave his teeth aching for something more

Stiles’s jaw goes tight as he brings his lips to his knuckles, feeling a bit like bearing down on the bone. “That’s what you think happened?” He glances at you, eyes a little haunted, “I couldn’t control you, so I ended it?”

You tilt your head to the side, so sympathetic it makes Stiles a little nauseous, and murmur, “I think you realized that I didn’t need you; I think it scared the hell out of you.” You say it so softly, carefully—and it impales him in the heart, right through the fucking center.

It would be one thing if you were angry; people say stupid shit they don’t actually mean when they’re angry all the time—but this? You look like you mean it. You look like you mean it, and you’re saying it for his own good. The look on your face, it looks a whole lot like the truth

And.

Maybe it is.

It’s not like you’re wrong. Stiles remembers thinking it, more than once. He remembers more than a few mornings where he woke up to the sound of your breathing, your warm breath washing over his neck, and he thought he’d probably die if you ever stopped. It felt like an epiphany every time, the reminder that without you his world would be irreparably changed.

Dark. Without you, Stiles’s world would go dark.

Maybe, the Nogistune was just an excuse. Maybe, Stiles had been leapfrogging over his heart since the moment you met. Avoiding the future. Wrapping the present around your body and constantly thinking: I can’t believe it's not over yet.

Yet. Yet. Yet.

Maybe, Stiles thought about it so much he tempted fate. Maybe, that’s why the Nogistune chose him. Maybe, he should stop scapegoating the devil. He did end up with Malia after all.

It’s different with her. Not bad necessarily, just different. He takes care of her, and he’s good at that. Making the plan. Having the answers.

Being in control.

With you…that was different.

Stiles is a cynic at heart, but when he looked at—looks at—you, he felt less lonely. When he was with you, he kind of got why his dad used to always show up to work 15 minutes late because he got distracted by the way his mom made coffee. The simple domesticity, the comfort of a morning routine for the rest of his life, the concept of tried and true blue love: Stiles got it all when he saw you.

You saw his happiness, and you gave it back to him. Every single time. That kind of love…it’s become abundantly clear to Stiles that kind of love is hard to find. Like maybe, once in a lifetime hard to find.

Stiles swallows hard and shakes his head. “Whatever it was that I was afraid of,” his voice drops to a whisper, “this is so much worse.”

You’re still the only person he can really cry in front of. Stiles is reminded of that when his eyes burn and something wet drips onto his lips. He sniffles quietly, feeling so incredibly small when he realizes the sound is coming from him.

Stiles can’t look up from his shoes—won’t—and then you speak. You’re so quiet he almost misses it.

“Life’s a lot better when you’re in it.”

The corners of Stiles’s mouth twitch into a small smile. The first one in about a week. Feels like much, much longer.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

#stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien

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wesstars · 1 year ago

Text

touch

jenna ortega x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: jenna, your lovely girlfriend, has been away filming for far too long, in your opinion. she thinks so, too. wc: 2.6k tags: explicit, MINORS DNI. all characters are 18+. phone sex, masturbation, bad dirty talk lmao, this is basically all bad dirty talk, light D/s dynamics, name calling/slight degradation, praise, reader is a soft dom, strap-on referred to as “cock,” horribly excessive use of italics, feels a bit odd writing rpf… a/n: @crazyoffher :) returning the favor!

masterlist

6:01 pm

call u in a sec?

A grin lighting up your face at the text, you hurriedly type an affirmative reply as you unlock your apartment door. Dropping your bag, you kick your shoes off, sighing as you shed your coat. Making a beeline for your bedroom, your eyes slide shut as you flop down on your gigantic bed. You’d washed the sheets earlier, and they were feeling extra soft. If Jenna were here, she’d be rolling around in them, covering her own scent with one of fresh linen.

Usually, she was—you were lounging in your shared apartment, a wide open space near the top of a sleek, tall building. Every evening in LA, the two of you could be found here, the appeal of a night in far exceeding that of a night out. A bottle of wine and a packet of popcorn to share wasn’t rare either, the expensive drink wasted on you two young lovers.

Everything had happened so quickly, but you loved it. A chance meeting on a plane had led to a long conversation about anything and everything, so common for new couples, and one-drink dates across busy nights had culminated into a fateful party invitation and an equally fateful blushing confession. Your relationship was wild, and crazy, and everything you could’ve wanted. A year later, Jenna had surprised you with a set of keys. It was a certain kind of promise that made those long nights, waiting for a phone call from half a world away, so worth it.

As if on cue, your phone buzzes in your pocket. Seeing the ID, you instantly pick up.

“Jenna?”

“Hey,” her familiar voice comes shyly through the speaker, a comforting sound. “Are you busy?”

“No, I just got home from work.”

Jenna hums in a way that tells you she’s plotting something, and her little stifled giggle just confirms your suspicions. You fake a sigh, happy to venture into her ploy.

“Jenna, did you have something to drink?”

“No.” She huffs a laugh. “I just miss you. Tired of me already?” She asks, with innocent veneer.

“Of course not,” you say. “It’s good to hear from you, you're so busy now, I had to talk to your secretary,” you teased. She was busy, but you’d already done the calculation of Jenna’s timezone to yours—for her, filming would’ve just wrapped up in the midnight hours. For you, the setting sun was just beginning to stream through the glass walls, and you pressed the button on the nightstand to draw the curtains.

“Well, if you’re not busy,” Jenna presses on casually, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Jenna,” you smile. It was a dialogue you two had often, something you never tired of.

“Mmm,” Jenna’s voice tugs in your stomach, lilting into a whine at the end of her emission, “I miss you, baby.”

Your mouth goes dry; it’s an automatic reaction. Damnit, this girl—she knew what kind of effect she had on you. You were glad the room was dark, because if you had to face your own blushing cheeks in the light, you might’ve just collapsed. You pull the phone away from your ear long enough to take a deep breath. “Do you, Jen?” Keeping your voice composed, you roll the end of the duvet between your fingers to keep you grounded.

“Miss you so much,” she says, the rustling in the background telling you she’s rolling on the covers. She lets out a lilting laugh, the sound sending a swooping, giddy feeling into your stomach. Jenna’s trying to lure you in; it was her game: enticing you with that docile, persuasive tone.

You decided to play, though you held back just a bit. “How much?”

“Some of your clothes still smell like you,” she says in lieu of a direct answer. “So I’m wearing your big shirt, the black one.” You’d been wondering where that shirt went, one you often slept in. Even now, you can see in your head how Jenna looked when she stole that shirt: it cut off at her thighs, the kind of sacrilegious short that inspired crimes. It reminds you of countless times she’d surprised you, when you slid your hands up under the hem to find—

“What else, Jen?”

“No bra,” she replies sweetly, laughing lightly at the end.

“No bra, huh,” you repeat. You can practically feel your pupils dilating, the heat around your collar. “Good.”

“And this,” Jenna sighs, “lace number I got here; it looks like the one you gave me last year.”

Your jaw clenches, and you glance at the clock, looking but not seeing. You remember what she’s talking about—a pair of panties, an expensive little excuse for fabric that grew dark at the slightest moisture. Jenna’s birthday had ended in a long, long night.

“It’s red,” she says, “just like my nails.”

Fuck. Everything feels hot, and you can just picture her in that standard issue trailer, lights dimmed, alone in a way that should be illegal. “How much time do you have?”

“Not a lot… got an early morning tomorrow.” There's a trailing edge of disappointment in her voice, but you’re familiar with her—she’s looking, hoping for you to guide her, to push her in the way only you know how.

You breathe in, deeply, your own desire quickly falling prey to Jenna’s. She had you wrapped around her little finger, that’s for sure, but she trusted you to hold her down. “Hand in your hair, Jenna. Gentle,” you instruct.

You hear her sharp inhale, but you have no question that she’ll listen. When Jenna gets like this, playful but pliant, you know she’s willing to go with just about anything you ask. It’s torture for you, each second you wait. “Now pull.”

Her responding whimper sends a bolt of heat down your neck, and you let out a silent breath. Jenna loved it when you would touch her hair, even when it was as innocent as just braiding it. The haze in her eyes when you’d tug on her locks, telling her how good she feels, was your favorite. “Harder. Do you like it?”

She breathes out, “yeah.”

“Good,” you say. “Tell me what’s been on your mind to get you eager like this.” She’s shy, you hear it in her sigh, even though her hands are still running in her hair. “C’mon.”

“I miss your mouth on my neck.” The words tumble out of her almost immediately, and you dare to wonder if that’s been on her mind all day. The bruises you’d left there before filming started were long gone, no doubt. She’d begged you to make them darker, and you were all too happy to please. “I miss the car, before the airport…”

Those frantic, heated ten minutes you two were able to spare in the car before Jenna’s flight were chastised by her manager and makeup team, but you wouldn’t have traded them for anything. “That’s perfect Jen,” you coax gently. She liked your encouragement, you knew.

“And…” it’s as if something snaps in the air on the telephone line, pushing both you and Jenna’s inhibitions to the ground. “I wish you were here,” she whispers, the cliche line sending equally cliche butterflies rushing through your lower stomach. “I’d be on my knees for your cock right now, and you’d pull my hair, so I’d-” she whines, a small and breathless noise-“suck it so good ‘cause I know where it’s going next—”

“Fingers in your mouth,” you interrupt, blood rushing in your ears. “And listen to me.” If you’d let Jenna keep going, you might’ve just booked a plane ticket right then and there. You can hear her obey you through the speaker, moaning softly. “Play with your nipples under your shirt. Be gentle.” It’s a warning, you know she knows, and a reminder that you control her pace.

“Mmm,” she hums, complying. It’s practically confession on bended knee, how her muffled whimper makes something shoot through your lower stomach.

“Press down on your tongue.” You hear her breath shaking, right in your ear. It makes you bite your tongue to keep from moaning out loud. “Don’t gag, don’t be greedy, Jenna.” She whines around her fingers, and you know her telltale little cry as she touches herself as instructed. You can hear that she’s not being as gentle as you wanted, but you had always been weak for your girl.

“You wanna put on a show for me, honey? Twist.” You wouldn’t know it, but Jenna instantly closes her eyes at the word show, her pulse spiking.

Jenna’s uneven breaths are pure song to you through the speaker, and it puts your every nerve on edge, remembering how she would sprawl on your sheets, just like how you were now, happy to be over or under you. She’s so vocal tonight, every exhale coming out with a small oh, and it makes you wonder if it’s because of something more than just the distance and time between you two.

The cadence of her breathing matches your stuttering heart. “For someone that likes having her mouth stuffed,” you mutter, “you sure wanna talk real bad.”

The whimper Jenna lets out is enough of an answer.

“Alright babydoll, you can take your fingers out.” Almost immediately, you can hear her panting. You keep your voice even, despite the heat on your cheeks. “I bet you’re soaked, aren’t you?”

Her voice is raspy when she speaks. “I am…”

“Two fingers in your cunt.”

“What about-” you can hear her swallow- “what about my underwear?”

“Push it to the side,” you say, dismissive. You could practically see Jenna like this, warm brown hair splayed on the pillows, shirt rucked up to her breasts, with enough want to end a war.

It’s silent on the other side of the line, save for the shallow breaths you hear her taking. “Are you waiting, good girl?”

She hums an affirmative.

“Go ahead, I won’t make you beg right now,” you say with a nonchalance you absolutely do not have, “fuck yourself.”

Her breathy laugh in response would drive a saint to sin, and she’s only all too eager to comply. Jenna’s shudder comes out in her moan as she shoves two fingers in herself, shameless in her need.

You close your eyes, her quiet little moan telling you all you need to know. The impatient groan she gives you is just vulnerable enough to be desperate, and it makes your head swim.

Jenna’s voice is small. “You know…”

“What is it, darling?”

“Wish I could put this on a camera for you, baby,” she whines, breath hitching. “Wish you could watch me right now.”

The mere thought of it is enough to have you biting your lip, hard enough to bleed. With the way that Jenna loved to perform, the idea had occurred to you before, but you were always too hesitant to bring it up. “You want me to see you, don’t you? Blushing and wanting all by yourself,” you mock, your arousal overriding your rationality, “you need someone to fuck you, is that it?”

“I need you to fuck me, fuck me so hard that I don’t remember it all, and,” her voice breaks, “you’ll make me watch our video later, to make me like this again.” You close your eyes again, your knuckles growing white around the sheets fisted in your hand.

“Like what, Jenna?”

“Messy, and-” her voice climbs higher with a gasp-“needy.”

The words cling in your mind, ivy on a terrace. It only takes half a moment for your mind to conjure her up again, flushed cheeks and two fingers deep in her pussy, framed by red lace.

“Is that what you are, mmm?”

She gives a moan, and you laugh because she’s embarrassed. It’s nearly pathetic, how bad you wish you could see Jenna’s face.

“Want…” There’s a hesitant pause. “Want your hand around my throat, too.”

God, no one knew how to play you quite like Jenna did. “Jenna,” you groan, your facade rapidly crumbling, “you’d look so pretty like that, baby.”

“Yeah,” Jenna agrees mindlessly, “I like it ‘cause…” her voice is strained in a way that you just know she has her head thrown back, strong and delicate, “you’re so gentle.” It’s with a bleeding intimacy that momentarily makes you forget you’re thousands of miles away from Jenna, and the only thing you can think of is her warm eyes on yours, just begging for you to touch her.

She quiets down, and in the damning silence that follows, you hear her fucking herself. And because you know your girl, you know she wants you to hear.

“That’s filthy, Jen,” you say, matter-of-factly. It makes your head spin, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“I know,” she whines, and you can hear her going just that bit faster. “Fuck-” she exhales sharply- “I’m—I’m close.”

“Already?”

“I’m sorry,” Jenna whispers, and you know with every hitched moan, she’s hitting that spot inside of her. She’s not sorry, and you certainly aren’t either. “I can’t help it…”

You hum noncommittally, feeling anything but. “Don’t come until I say, alright?”

Jenna moans right into the receiver, and you can tell she’s frustrated to high hell. You laugh lowly, something cruel, and it only serves to fuel the way your fingers crave the smooth of her skin, how your tongue wants for her taste.

But that’s when you hear it, blazing through the fog in your mind, of brown eyes and pink lips. “Please…”

“Please what?”

She falters, breathing ragged. “Please let me…” A beat.

“Let you…?” You press on.

“Please,” her voice edges on the right side of desperate, the side that makes all of you pulse. “Baby, I’m so close…”

“I know,” you say simply.

There’s a silence that hangs in the air, and you know without seeing that Jenna’s cheeks are so red with her embarrassment that you could’ve slapped her and not gotten that same glow. You wait, patiently, nails biting into your skin.

“Let me come, please.” Her voice comes out like a quiet sob, resistance broken by her desire.

Letting out a long breath, you press the phone harder to your ear, feeling your fingers tremble. “You’re such a needy slut, Jenna.” She whines again, pleading and keening.

“I know,” she’s soft with it, “I am… so, please?”

You bite your lip, mind swimming, letting her plea hang in the air.

“Come for me, Jenna.”

It's quiet, at first, and then you hear it—a soft, little ah from where she’s clapped a hand over her mouth, and then muffled moans spilling out from behind as she tries so desperately to not let anyone else hear. You clench your jaw, wanting so bad to tear Jenna’s hand from her mouth just so you can take in every little whimper, quiet her with your mouth instead. But you whisper praises into the phone instead, coaxing her through her orgasm. She comes hard, you can hear it in the way she pants after she’s calmed down.

Jenna’s breathing evens out, and you know it before she does—she’s asleep. Your eyes close again, fist clenched in your bedsheets. It wasn’t the first time that she’d fallen asleep right after she came, and it makes a soft little grin play on your lips. The other end of the line is a loving, sated silence. You keep your voice low, not wanting to wake her.

“God, the things I’m gonna do to you, Jenna.”

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist

#project wes #fanfiction #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega smut #smut #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader smut #reader insert #self insert #jenna ortega fanfic #jenna ortega fanfiction #jenna ortega fic #lgbtq #jenna ortega x y/n #wednesday addams x reader #how can I snooze and miss the moment you’re just too important #tara carpenter x reader

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kana-daydreams · 11 months ago

Text

𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 || 𝐙𝐨𝐫𝐨

summary: zoro decides just for your sake and his, for once, to allow himself to express a feeling he’d long buried inside him after Kuina’s death—and a feeling he’s only ever had for you. genre: mild angst, fluff cw: none wc: 3.2k

I love you.

Settled atop the crow’s nest dome- shaped roof of the Thousand Sunny, Zoro’s dark-brown eyes dart open to meet splotches of fluffy white painted across a canvas of endless blue.

A gentle breeze rustles his clothes and threads through his mint-green hair as he lays with his back pressed flat against the roof’s surface, head cushioned by his arms, while his gaze continues to follow the clouds lazily gliding across the sky.

I love you.

Zoro clicks his tongue when he hears the words teasing melody continue to play in his head.

Words that had repeated its haunting every daylight, and every nightfall.

Words you’d confessed to him weeks ago—and words he had thought would be your last.

Why did you do it?

Zoro still relives the moment when he watched your body go limp in his arms, crimson red trailing its way down in gushing streams from the wound in your torso.

Why did you risk your life to save his?

A question that lingered along with your confession deep within his mind during the couple of weeks you’d remained a victim of sleep.

A furrow lines Zoro’s brows, deepening as he unwillingly recalls the urgent scream of your voice calling his name, followed by the sound of steel tearing through flesh and then the painful sight of your body collapsing, motionless, in a pool of red.

After the tragic occurrence, day after day, Zoro would visit you inside the sick bay. It was a difficult task at first, seeing your comatose state, but he made it part of his daily routine to check up on you. And assisted Chopper where he could, sometimes spending the entire day by your side and wishing that you would just open your damn eyes.

And during that time he spent with you and without you, he prayed.

Zoro never believed there was a god but yet, for you—he did.

Like a devout believer, day in and day out, he prayed and hoped for a miracle.

Hoped that some god— any god—would hear his prayer and that you would awake from your seemingly endless sleep.

Though when a couple of weeks had flitted past and you showed no signs of waking up, the little faith he’d mustered started to wane.

Waned until like a flame drawn down to a single spark of light left with nothing to fuel its burn, it extinguished.

But today Zoro’s flame reignites.

At the sound of Chopper's crying voice, Zoro’s body bolts upright, his eyes drawing wide when he hears him announce in between sniffles and hiccups, that you’re awake.

And in an instant, he’s on his feet.

And in an instant, his legs carry him with desperate steps towards the direction of the sick bay, Zoro thinking to himself, despite his once wavering belief—for the first time—a god really just might exist.

“Nami, Robin— you guys are going to hurt her!” Chopper’s worried voice warns the two women hugging the life out of you—literally, Chopper thinks.

“Okay, just one more hug.” Nami snivels, long tears rolling down her cheeks as she gives you one last squeeze before she and Robin unwrap their arms from around you, moving to stand amongst the rest of the crew huddled around your bed.

Your eyes scan each of their tear-stained faces like your own, at the same time searching for the perpetual stone-cold expression of Zoro’s, your heart sinking when there’s no sight of it.

“I’m so happy to see everyone.” You manage a weak smile, brushing off the disappointed feeling at the swordsman’s absence, and instead focus on the wide smiles, happy tears and collective expressed words of happiness and relief of your long-awaited recovery.

For the next hour or so, the sick bay’s room is permeated with mirthful chatter and laughter until Chopper starts kicking everyone out, informing them of your much needed rest.

“I don’t understand? Why would she need more sleep?” Luffy who sits cross-legged at the foot of your bed asks with a genuinely confused expression. “She’s been sleeping for we—” he’s interrupted when Nami grabs a hold of one of his ears and forcefully starts dragging him out of the room, the scene making a small laughter bubble up your chest.

Luffy’s painful groans and complaining voice drowns out when the door clicks close behind them, and with solitude now your only company, your mind is left to idle.

To idle on the memory of Zoro.

To idle on the memory of his mortified features as he held your form, drenched in blood, close to his chest. And the prominent picture of hurt mixed in with other indiscernible emotions that crossed his face when you confessed your years-long harboured love for him, just before your vision turned dark.

You can’t help but wonder exactly what he thought during that moment of your untimely confession, as you absent-mindedly reach your hands under the hem of your shirt, smoothing it along the rough scar that lines across your stomach. A reminder of the small price you had to pay in exchange for the life of the one you’d always cherished with your whole heart, and the one your eyes longed to see the moment you’d opened your eyes.

A sudden rap at the door pulls you out of your thoughts and you rasp out a “You can come in!” wondering if Chopper had returned to check up on you.

However, when the door cracks open, instead of the doctor, it reveals the familiar figure of the man you’ve yearned to see.

You watch as he steps into the room, your eyes catching his steely expression which immediately melts at the sight of you.

Zoro closes the door behind him and wordlessly approaches your bedside, neither of your gazes unyielding from the other. That is until his eyes flicker down to your hand still settled on your exposed stomach, the muscles in his jaw becoming visibly tense.

There’s a silence that settles between you both. One that is equally tense and you can’t help but attempt to lighten the mood.

“Fell asleep again or forgot I existed?” You quirk a brow, a teasing lilt carried in your tone. “I’m placing my bet on the first one.” You chuckle.

“It’s none.”

Your laughter simmers down when you look up to see that Zoro’s features are void of any hint of amusement.

“Oh? Then…”

“I wanted us alone.” He explains and your head tilts in curiosity at his words.

“Alone?”

“Yeah. We need to talk.”

You ponder on what he says. On what the topic of discussion might entail that he didn’t want the others around. And in a second or two, when an answer suddenly dawns on you—that it might be about your declaration of love— you feel a faint touch of warmth caress your cheeks.

Shyly, you pat a hand beside you on the mattress. A motion for him to have a seat.

Zoro takes you up on your offer, joining you on the small bed after removing his swords which he settled in a nearby corner of the room.

“So, what you wanna talk about?” You ask as you feel the bed sink under you from his added weight.

Zoro takes his time to form an answer as his eyes examine you for a bit: the healthy gleam of your skin, the vibrant light in your eyes, and the way your lips curl into that beautiful smile he’d longed missed.

And the longer he takes to respond, the more your heart races in anticipation.

“How do you feel?” He finally asks.

You pout. It isn’t what you expected, but his concern for your well-being at the same time isn’t a surprise.

“A little woozy and tired. But Chopper said I’ll feel better with a little more rest.”

“Right…rest.” Zoro murmurs to himself.

He had been more than determined to see you as soon as he watched the others leave your room that he didn’t consider the toll their long visit had probably taken on you.

“Then you should get some.” He stands to his full height, ready to make his departure, only to be stopped by a sudden and gentle tug on his shirt.

He peers over his shoulder, looking down to see your fingers gripping onto its hem, your face creased with worry.

“Please Zo, don’t leave.” You plead. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You’d noticed it in his tense expression—that what he wanted to discuss carried a heavy weight on his shoulders, though you weren’t exactly sure what it might be if not your confession.

“You need to rest.” Zoro urges.

“I won’t be able to unless you tell me what’s bothering you.”

Your persistence and stubbornness is no surprise to Zoro. He knows all too well that your words are true, and stands there conflicted with your hand still glued to his shirt, before momentarily releasing a deep sigh as he relents to entertaining your request.

You watch as he seats himself near you once more. “Tell me Zo. What is it?” You prompt when a lull falls, lingering between you two.

Zoro’s eyes sweep down to where your hands lay before flitting up to meet your worried eyes. “Why…” He pauses for a beat as if gathering his thoughts, before he pieces together the rest of his words; finally asking the question, though not in full, that has been long weighing on his mind. “Why did you do it?”

Your brows wrinkle, confused. “Do what?”

When his gaze leaves your own and you notice it drops down to your stomach, you immediately come to comprehend the meaning behind his words.

“Because I wanted to.” A smile pulls at your lips.

A smile that makes Zoro’s hands, unnoticeably to you, ball into fists.

A couple of weeks ago, you were on the brink of death because of him and now you’re here, smiling warmly up at him, saying that you didn’t mind that you’d almost die!

Zoro’s fingers curl, digging deeper into the palm of his hands.

He’s happy—overjoyed, though his features mask the feeling—that you’re okay and that he gets the chance to see your smiling face again. But what if he had lost you?

What if he had lost you, just like he lost…

Zoro shoots up to his feet, your fingers hold on his shirt, ripping away.

“You’re leaving.”

His sudden burst of words leave you to stare dumbfoundedly at him as he walks over to the side of the room where his swords lay, propped up against the wall.

“What do you mean ‘you’re leaving’?”

Zoro faces your direction once he’s finished securing his swords to his hip. “As soon as we dock at the nearest town, you’re getting off.” The tone of his voice hints that there's no room for an argument.

You gape up at him. “You can’t be serious.”

This wasn’t the first time, the second nor the third, that Zoro had tried to get you to leave the ship—and to leave their crew.

He’d wanted you long gone since the day Luffy’d recruited you and tried his earnest to get the boy to throw you off the ship.

Figuratively of course.

“I thought we were past that phase. Aren’t you tired of trying to get rid of me?”

“Not, exactly.” Zoro says and you purse your lips, brows knitting into a frown at his curt and honest reply.

“Well like I’ve told you countless times, Roronoa. I'm not leaving.”

Zoro gives a subtle flinch when you refer to him by his family name instead of the nickname you’d called him since you were children. He then releases a deep sigh meeting your defiant gaze. “Being a pirate isn’t child’s play.” He ends with your name. “It’s dangerous.”

“And, what? You think I don’t know that.” You cross your arms, eyes narrowing.

You were aware that like the others, Zoro was worried about you. But you were here because of your own volition. Not his. A fact you verbally express.

“I’m not a little girl, Roronoa.” You say, voice stern. “I’m an adult. Meaning, I make my own choices.”

Zoro scoffs, almost mockingly at your words. “Yeah, choices that almost left you in a permanent coma, sleeping beauty.”

“I was only trying to protect you.” You feel yourself becoming more pissed, for lack of a better word, at his retort. “You could have died if I didn’t—”

“I ain’t no weakling. I could’ve taken it.” He argues back.

“You don't know that, you arrogant seaweed!”

Zoro was strong. Inhumanly strong. A verifiable truth you’d always known. But like any other human being, he was still mortal—and all mortals bleed. All mortals die.

Seaweed?! Zoro’s brows furrow, the muscles in his face twitching. He then heaves a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look…” he starts, voice much mellow than before. “You’re not a pirate. You’re not me and you’re not Luffy—you’re not like any of us.”

Zoro watches as your expression morphs into a reflection of hurt at his words—and it aches him. But his words are somewhat of the truth. You aren’t like any of them. You don’t have raw strength or devil fruit powers to protect yourself nor are you cautious when faced with life-threatening situations, choosing to tackle those situations head on without much of a drop of hesitation.

And that’s what scared him the most.

“It'd be best if you just go back home where it’s safe.” Zoro finishes, eyes meeting anywhere but your gaze.

“So that’s the real reason you don't want me around?” Your fingers clench around the sheet wrapped around you. “Because I’m weak?”

“That’s not what I mea–”

“Then what do you mean, huh! Zoro Roronoa.” Your eyes well with unshed tears and your voice cracks as you choke back a sob. “Why is it that you keep trying to get rid of me?”

Your question is only met with silence, as Zoro continues to keep his mouth sealed.

“Is it because I’m a burden?”

You weakly voice a thought that’d always remained rampant in your mind since the day Zoro vanished a few years later after Kuina’s death, leaving you only a single letter explaining his aspiration and his pursuit of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman along with a stern warning that you never attempt to search for him.

You’d adhere to his wishes which brought with it many sleepless nights, especially when you thought you would never see him again.

Fortunately, by a stroke of luck, you’d managed to cross paths when you stumbled upon him wandering around like a lost puppy back in one of the towns you usually frequented for selling your goods. And after your fateful reunion, spurred on by what’ve been years of friendship blossomed into unrequited love, you decided to join Zoro in his ambition—and the rest of the straw hats who’d unexpectedly and without a doubt become your home: your family.

“...It is. Isn’t it?” You say when you notice him tense at your assumption.

“No it is’n—”

“Then what is it!” Your voice consumed by a mixture of anger, sadness and disappointment bounces off the walls of the room. “At least tell me why?”

Zoro looks across at you and a pained expression shadows his face when he sees droplets of tears rain from your eyes, wetting your cheeks, falling and seeping into the white sheets clutched in your grasp.

“Why do you want me to leave?” You continue. “Why don't you want me to be a part of your life?” Some of your words get caught up in an uncontrollable storm of hiccups and sobs. “... and I promise Zoro. Tell me why and I promise I’ll leave.”

Zoro was never one to be emotionally transparent. You know that. But you wanted to know why…

Why is it that he was so determined—eager to make you leave?

Why is it that he was so eager to drive you away like you were never a part of his life? And him, never a part of yours.

Silence permeates the room as Zoro’s lips remain sealed shut like before, and as it prolongs so does your impatience.

“If you’re not gonna answer, then go.” You breathe out a weak sigh, feeling new tears starting to emerge. “I’ll leave just like you ask, so just get ou—.”

“‘Cause I love you.” Zoro mumbles out in a rush, that you barely register what he says.

You blink away the tears, directing your attention over at him, more precisely his back. “What…did you say?”

Zoro’s face contorts into a frown, heat burning at his cheeks. “I said…” He grits his teeth, finding it cruel that you were making him repeat such cloying words. “...I l-love you, you idiot.” He stammers out and you notice his ears tinge a dark red.

Your heart stutters at his unanticipated confession, words you’d been longing and hoping to hear for years—and words which render you speechless.

“S-say somethin’” Zoro practically begs, growing increasingly embarrassed by your lack of a reaction, still keeping his body pointed in the opposite direction.

You shake yourself out of your surprised state. “You love me?” You ask as heat fans across your face. “Then…why do you keep pushing me away?”

“..Because you’re reckless.”

Your face contorts into a slight grimace, feeling somewhat offended by his words. “I am not reckless.” You retort, regretting it when he starts to recount childhood memories and those of late, that bear witness to his claim.

Though those events couldn’t compare to the one that almost made him lose you.

The room descends into utter silence when Zoro finishes, leaving you with your head drooped down in embarrassment which had seeped in bit by bit during his narration of your every rash act.

“I can’t…”

You raise your head slowly to look across at Zoro whose voice punctuates the silence. And your heart sinks when you hear the subtle crack of his voice.

“I can’t...” He repeats, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I–we lost her. You—” Zoro grits his teeth, clenching his eyes tightly from the growing pain in his chest. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

To Zoro, you are his everything.

The woman who holds the entirety of his heart in the palm of her hands; all he has that reminds him of home—and a reason other than his promise with Kuina to become the world's greatest swordsman.

Zoro’s hands ball into fists as he feels a burning sensation settle behind his eyes. “I can’t lose you t—”

The words that pained to leave his lips are cut short, when Zoro feels arms wrap, snug around his torso, a soft and familiar body pressing against his back.

“I’m right here, Zo.” You reassure with tears and soft whimpers. “I’m here. And I’m alive.”

Zoro’s heart pounds violently against his chest when you hug him closer to your body, as if trying to prove to him you were real and not just a figment of his imagination.

To your surprise, Zoro turns around and captures you in a tight embrace. “I know…” He presses a light kiss to your hair, letting it linger for a second, before settling his chin atop the crown of your head. “And about what’ve said before. Forget about it.” He says, as your soft sobs continue to fill the room. “I…I don’t want you to leave.”

“You mean it?” You quiver out.

“Yeah.” He replies. “Just please, promise me you’ll be more careful.”

Your eyes flutter close as you snuggle closer into his warmth. “I will. I promise.” You say, both of you, unknown to the other, making a silent vow to become stronger.

Stronger for each other.

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