#I welcome the belly bellows
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the BEEF | #1: Joel Miller
Summary: no-outbreak AU, Joel has a headache and that headache wants his attention. [based on a prompt THOT up in collaboration with @strang3lov3]
Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,833
Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, angry fools who want to play hide the sausage, angry joel, shovel violence against a truck, monster cock, age gap (joel is in his 50's, reader is younger), p in the v (unwrapped), rough dresser sex,
Author's Notes: welcome to the BEEF. Each P-boy has a thorn in their side that has to be dealt with. Thank you to @covetyou for inspiring the idea, and thank you @neverwheremoonchild, @strang3lov3, @rebel-held & @bitchesuntitled for their brains and eyes.
and thank you to every friendo in the Bistro - it's all for you, babies.
Joel Miller was your street’s cranky asshole. No one dared throw a party or hold a garage sale without letting him know first. No one dared let their grass get over a certain length and the whole neighbourhood breathed a sigh of relief when he would go out of a town and not see the kids scribble with chalk on the sidewalks in the summer. He never called the cops; no, instead he showed up and berated whoever was hosting an event or engaging in an activity he found offensive. And he was intimidating. He wasn’t the tallest, but he was built like a brick shithouse. You’d lived on the block for almost nine years, and in that time, Joel had gone from being a broad, sturdy single father to a single, empty nester who lived off HungryMan frozen meals. He was a big man with linebacker shoulders and a meaty chest stacked on top of a boulderous belly. His plaid button up shirts always looked like they were holding on for dear life to avoid his temper.
And you were utterly in love with him.
Before the most recent snowfall, you’d been in your room on your bed with the window open a crack to let in some fresh air. Right below your window was Joel’s front porch, and as soon as you heard his door fly open, you grabbed your vibrator and listened.
“Get off my lawn!”, you heard him bellow at who ever had dared to approach his house.
You smiled to yourself and turned on your purple silicon friend and shoved it in your underwear.
As Joel berated the hapless victim of his temper, you nudged yourself closer to the edge. As you did, you cared less about the volume of your cries and let your noises out at top volume. By the time you came, Joel was standing on his porch with his mouth agape, staring at your bedroom window and the offending party walked away with a look of disgust.
*****
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.
You watched as your snow shovel slipped out of your hands and hit your Joel’s truck. The one with the vanity plate ‘SM 9000’ that you had no clue what it meant. You could only sit back and watch as it fell and gouged in the paint job on Joel’s 1989 Dodge Ram pickup, your panties grew damp as you heard his front door open and slam against his house.
You turned around, raising your hands, trying to look like you were de-escalating the situation. “Joel, I-“
“The fuck’re you think you’re doin’?!”, he bellowed, stomping towards you.
As he yelled and flew into a tantrum over your shovel’s sins, you couldn’t help the stupid, lovesick half grin blooming on your face.
“… and you ain’t got no respect for no one’s property and…”, he stopped, took a breath, and looked you over, face twisting in a confused rage as he tried to figure out why you were looking at him as if he were a can of tuna and you were a cat watching him being pulled open ever so gently.
“The fuck is wrong with you?!”, he yelled, stepping forward, trying to scare you to no avail. He huffed and stomped his foot, trying to snap you out of whatever trance you were in.
You sighed and tilted your head, loving the attention he was finally bestowing on you, not caring that your reaction was essentially dumping gasoline on a house fire.
“Fuckin’ disrespectful shit…”, he snarled as he grabbed your arm and dragged you towards his house.
“Joel? What’re you doing? Where we going?”, you asked with a big dumb grin on your face then wincing at the harsh grip he had on your elbow. Your boots slipped and skidded on the icy walkway and you tripped heading up the stairs.
“Fuckin’ clumsy dumbass…”, he grumbled, shoving you through his front door and slamming it behind you both.
You looked around his entry way, noting the ugly wallpaper and the stale cigarette smell lingering. You crinkled your nose, and he turned around, his frown deepening into a scowl.
“Boots off!”, he barked, harshly motioning to your feet.
You didn’t miss a beat and toed them off quickly, kicking them into the wall. His jaw clenched as he watched the dirty snow clumps slide slowly down, leaving wet patches on his yellow-turned-brown floral wallpaper.
His eyes snapped up to yours, expecting an apologetic look. Instead, he was met with…
“Why the fuck you lookin’ at me like a love sick puppy?”
Joel was enraged. You didn’t run away or beg for forgiveness. No. You stood in his entry way, kicking your boots and making a mess, looking like he was David Cassidy or Patrick Swayze. You smiled back softly and that was the last straw for him.
“WHAT IN THE FRESH HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”
You could have cum right there. Joel Miller was yelling right in your face. You’d gotten off by listening to him lose his shit at anyone trying to fundraiser or collect donations who had dared knock on his door but having a front row seat to a live performance was better than you could have ever imagined.
Joel watched your lips part and your brows twitch as they furrowed and your head tilt back slightly. He heard your breath hitch between his furious growling breaths, and his eyes slid down your parka-clad frame and he swore he saw your thighs clench.
His eyes went wide as he realized the effect he was having on you.
“You fuckin’ dirty little shit…”
The whimper he received in response made his cock twitch in his WalMart Levi’s. He sucked in a harsh breath and swallowed hard. He hadn’t had a woman look at him like that since he went to the strip club with his brother for his bachelor party, and he knew she was looking for a hefty tip. But you – the only thing he could think of is that you were trying to find a way to get out of paying for the damage your shovel caused. There was no waythat you were actually interested in him in that way. No. No woman had wanted to fuck him since before his daughter, Sarah, had been in junior high. He was a fat old asshole and you… you weren’t.
“Joel…”
Your soft voice pulled him back and the frown he carried all but left his face, being replaced with eyebrows to his hairline and his mouth open in confusion and shock.
“Joel, I… I’m sorry about your truck.”
You grabbed the zipper to your parka and pulled down, opening it to reveal your great aunt’s knitted sweater with a loon on it. Joel’s widened eyes swept over you and his brows furrowed.
“The hell you up to?”, he croaked, trying to sound intimidating.
“It’s warm in here”, you respond, tossing your parka on to, but missing completely, the stair banister.
His mind was racing. You actually seemed to be coming on to him as you stepped closer in your mismatched socks. You looked up at him through your lashes while your hands slowly slid up your legging-clad thighs and up to the hem of your sweater. He watched as you pulled it over your head slowly, getting it stuck for a moment, revealing a worn out white t-shirt with a faded image of a marshmallow peep and the slogan ‘Holla At My Peeps!’. He took another step back and you tossed your sweater at him, and he stumbled back, falling onto his recliner.
“Jesus, woman!”, he hollered, ripping your sweater off his head just in time to see you standing above him.
“You know how hot you are?”, you asked, leaning forward over him.
He froze. He must be dead. Or asleep. Or maybe he slipped when he stormed out the door to yell at you and hit his head. Or maybe he was drunk. Maybe he took a NyQuil tablet instead of the Omega 3-6-9 fish oil pills.
“The hell is wrong with you?”, he sputtered out, looking at you wide-eyed.
You didn’t answer. You only leaned forward, nudging your nose against his and letting out a breathy giggle. He tried to speak again, but his words got lost in the high pitch grunt he let out when your knee came up and nestled in between his thighs, pushing against the considerable bulge that had developed.
His hand involuntarily gripped your wrist that was supported on his arm rest, and he sucked in a deep breath.
“I know exactly what you need, Joel Miller.”, you cooed, tongue jutting out and licking your teeth, trying to sound seductive. “You need a good fuck.”
His mouth hung open in shock. You grinned wildly and kissed the tip of his nose before nipping at his bottom lip and tugging it between your teeth.
Joel let out a groan and closed his eyes, the hand on your wrist moving to your t-shirt’s hem and slipped underneath it. You nudged your knee against his crotch again and kissed him, tasting no-name waffles and burnt coffee.
The kiss seemed to break something in Joel. This wasn’t a dream, or an antihistamine induced hallucination or a concussion - this was real. You, his hot, young, stupid neighbour was crawling onto his lap and shoving your tongue down his throat.
He grunted lowly and pushed you back, looking up at you with dark eyes. You tried moving forward again, but his hand held you back.
A whine emanated from your throat, and he shook his head. “I’m not fucking you-“
You scoffed and he shushed you.
“Oh, hush and lemme finish, you loony shit!”, he huffed. “I was sayin’ that I'm not gonna fuck you in this chair; it barely holds my weight and if you’re gonna be bouncin’ on me, this fuckin’ thing’ll screw the pooch.”
You shrugged your shoulders, irritated. “Okay, fine. Then where?”
“My bed, you nimrod!”, he snapped with a scowl, then grinned. “Got a nice mattress with good lumbar support.”
*****
You had followed Joel to his room and were pleasantly… let down. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the beige walls and the picture of a horse above his non-exciting bed were not what you had thought he would have. What surprised you was the essential oil diffuser plugged in on his bedside table, giving the air a fresh lavender smell.
The fact that the rest of his house looked like a rejected concept for an early nineties sitcom and his bedroom looked like a bed and breakfast that had no theme, for some reason, made you want him more. This man and his lack of consistency. You needed him in you now.
Grabbing his arm and turning him around, you pulled him into a desperate kiss; teeth and tongues, fighting for real estate in each other’s mouths.
“Get naked, sugar.”, he grunted as he broke the kiss with a lopsided grin. He unsnapped his shirt, revealing a grey, stained undershirt, its ribbing pulled tight and stretched over his belly while his mouth and surrounding patchy facial hair glistened with your saliva.
While he wasn’t being that polite, he wasn’t being mean. That was a problem. Even with how mundane he’d revealed himself to be, it wasn’t enough. The residual dampness that made your panties stick to your core was a result of him yelling at you out front, and that goodwill your pussy had shown was slowly drying up.
Joel’s hands began to make quick work of his belt and stretch denim jeans, but he noticed you not moving to do the same.
His hand flapped at you in an urging motion, “Make with the no clothes. Can’t fuck you with them on.”
His eyes narrowed as he noted your lack of movement, and he paused. You began to see signs that Joel was getting mad, and your mind flipped through every situation you’d witnessed him lose his shit in. What was it that would set him off quick? You weren’t about to throw a block party in his room, nor were you a religious group knocking at his door early on a Saturday. Then it clicked.
A devious grin broke out slowly on your face as you sat on his Temperpedic mattress and crossed your arms.
“Make me.”
“You indignant little shit…”, he growled, clenching his fist.
A flutter in your lower belly. More.
“Come on. Make me.”
“You fuckin’ tease… Fuck you!” His eyes were filling with fire.
An almost painful need bloomed in your core. More!
“Fuck me yourself, coward.”
He sputtered and guffawed, eyes wide in rage.
“You fuckin’ shit! Bangin’ up my truck and actin’ like a needy Jezabel just to fuckin’ tease me like this!”
You could have cum right there, between the iron grip on your wrist and his loud belittling.
You couldn’t stop the giggle that erupted, and he snarled. He grabbed your hand and yanked you up off the bed. You truly thought his back was bad enough that the effort of getting you up alone would be too much, but he shoved you against his dresser, then slamming his weight into your back. You whined, feeling your pussy clenching on nothing.
“You’re such a shit!”, he grunted, grabbing your elasticized waistband, and yanking your leggings and panties down on one side while your hand went to the other; the two of you awkwardly working towards removing your barrier.
When they were low enough on your legs to step out of, you clumsily did so, then tried to turn around to help Joel. He wasn’t fast enough, swearing under his breath as your hands lifted his belly to access his strained button fly. His mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting like a dog on a window while a steak was being grilled just on the other side.
You pushed his jeans down around his hips and they pooled around his ankles. He kicked them off and bit down on the crux of your neck and shoulder as your hand cupped and felt up his hard cock.
Jesus. Oh fuck.
Joel was hung. Like unreasonably so. You’d had your fair share of men slamming their pork steeples into your wet cunt, but none of them could even hold a candle to the monstrosity that sat heavy and covered in satin in your hand. You planted your hand on his chest and pushed him back, needing to get a peek at what Joel was packing. You immediately looked down, seeing the Wile E. Coyote faux-satin boxers protruding out in an impressive, and frankly intimidating, bulge.
“Oh shit...”, you breathed out, contemplating on whether you truly needed to do any serious sitting for the next week, or if you could maybe just get away with laying down at work.
His hand snapped to your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eye, and he gave you a dark smile, “Showed up to a gun fight with a knife, sugar?”
You didn’t have time to respond because Joel shoved his hand between your legs and harshly began rubbing your clit.
Your eyes fluttered and rolled back. Joel watched, an approving sneer on his face.
“’S fucked up … you like this?”
“uh…. Uh-huh…”
“You’re a lunatic…”
You smiled lazily. “You’re fingering a lunatic… w-what’s that say about you?”
He paused then huffed out, “That I’m fingering a lunatic, you moron.”
You let out a throaty laugh that bleeds into a moan as Joel shoves two thick fingers into your hole, slowly dragging them out before plunging them back in.
“You’re a sick little shit… you seducin’ and teasin’ an old man, an’gettin’ me all wound up… Neighbourhood headache… that’s you. Fuckin’ shit up and walkin’ away with a smile on her dumb face.”
“’M close… don’t…. don’t stop…”
His fingers kept the slow languid pace going as he leaned in and harshly whispered, “Unlike you, sugar, I don’t like to leave people disappointed.”
His eyes never left you, watching your every move. Every involuntary twitch and shudder, every flutter of your eyelids and breath leave your parted lips. He could feel it around his fingers and see it on your face that you were feeling everything intensely and now that he had you like this, he wasn’t going to let you go without making sure you weren’t going to pull this shit again.
Joel was many things, but a man who could let things go was not one of them. He was tired of hearing you cream and cry on whatever silicon thing you were shoving into yourself through your bedroom window as he lost his shit on someone; tired of seeing you make eyes at him while you sat in your front yard as he grumbled at a neighbour for the state of their lawn. He was still furious at you for once letting your hand - your soft, sweet, tender hand - linger on his when handing him his mail that was accidentally delivered to your home, forcing him to sit in his shitty recliner and try to finish with his calloused, rough, and hard hand. He never came.
You were going to pay for that. He’d promised himself that for almost five years and now here you were, on your way to being a muppet with how his hand played in your pussy. Joel’s time had come.
You came, moaning, on his hand as he watched, his fingers still moving in and out of you, and his thumb took up the task of tending to your twitching clit. Your face twisted and you cried out, trying to push his hand away.
Your tongue felt thick in your mouth and a moan seeped out. As you rode the wave, he yanked his hand out and grabbed your arm, throwing you onto the bed.
“Goddammit, you’re such a pretty shit.”, he grumbled, reaching for your ankle, and tugging your ass to the edge of the bed. You tried sitting up on your elbows, but he shoved you back down with his body weight.
His weight. Good god, he felt heavier and better than you ever thought he could as he pressed you down into the mattress.
But he got up off you, trying to wrangle your ankles and pull your exposed pussy to just the right spot to save his back from being strained. You tried sitting up again, wanting to have some sort of control over the situation, but Joel growled and grabbed your hips, and, in an impressive feat, flipped you onto your front all while grumbling about what a pain in the ass you were.
“Can’t even fuckin’ be considerate enough to stay put…”
You heard him spit then grunt, figuring he was priming that fucking meat wagon between his legs, and you let out an impatient huff.
“Knock that shit off!”, he snapped, flicking you on your ass cheek. “You just came, nimrod. You can fuckin’ wait!”
“Yeah… but I wanna cum again!”, you whined out with a smile, trying to not laugh at how irritated he was with you.
“I bet you do… but you’re on my time, and I am a patient man, sugar.”, he crooned lowly, snaking his hand up your back and to your hip. You squirmed a bit, but his hold kept you planted in place, and his other hand held his cock as he nudged it against your opening.
The smile on your face dropped as his huge member pushed in; your mouth opened, and out came a gasp followed by a choked moan.
“That’s it… Jesus Murphy… not even fuckin’ your throat and I got you to shut your mouth…”
Yes, you knew Joel was huge. But it was just an abstract concept up until that moment. Now that he was shoving his massive dick into you, you felt like the universe’s mysteries were now clearly laid out. You knew what religion was right, who shot JFK, how they made the moon landing look real…
Nothing in life would ever surprise you again because you were being split open by this grumpy, fat man. You were being ruined by Joel Miller.
He grunted as he pulled back and then slammed into you.
“Tight little snatch, sugar… takin’ me like a champ.”
You couldn’t respond. Your brain had melted and left your skull empty, and you were unable to do anything but breathe loudly and moan, “S’too big… too big…”
Joel snickered and grunted, snapping his hips and shoving himself deep. You wriggled and squirmed, simultaneously needing him stop and to fuck you harder. Your head began to feel faint, and your core squeezed him, forcing a groan out of him.
He began to snap his hips faster, panting and grunting like the fat kid in gym class being forced to run a mile. You whined and squirmed, trying to get your knees under your body to be able to push back against him, to get him deeper, but he grabbed your calf and bit your leg right above your sock with a growl then groaned, “Stay… stay put… don’t move… jus’lemme… lemme finish…”
You let out a yelp than melted into a moan, throwing yourself into another orgasm. Joel’s thrusts became hurried and more erratic. The high-pitched whine that ripped out of Joel sounded like a dog begging for table scraps as he shot his load into you.
He collapsed onto your back, both of you panting. After what felt like hours but in reality, was only about 30 seconds, Joel had gone quiet. You nudged him, hoping to god he didn’t die from a pussy-induced heart attack. He grunted and struggled to push himself up off you, then flopped on the bed next to you. You rolled over onto your back and looked at him. His cheeks were flushed, and his brows furrowed; his wispy salt and pepper hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes were closed. He was still breathing heavily through his mouth. You smiled, feeling a fulfillment you hadn’t since you’d convinced your parents that it was your sister who broke the CD-ROM drive in the family computer even though it was really you. Cuddling into his, your fingers drew heart shapes in his sweat coated chest hair.
Now that he’d fucked you, you wanted to clear the air as it were, and make sure he wasn’t going to make you pay for any damage to his truck. “So…”
Joel grunted in response, one eye opening and looking at you.
“I was just wondering… what’s your licence plate mean?”
He sighed and closed his eye again. He said the meaning quietly and at first you weren’t sure you heard him right.
“What?”
His cheeks flushed a little harder and he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a huff.
“ShagMaster 9000.”
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love me, ever so gently
pairing: austin butler x reader
summary: you recently moved to a new apartment, making new some eccentric friends along the way. but what you didn't expect was falling in love with a stranger. a stranger you somehow couldn't stop thinking about
words: 2.1k
warnings: depictions of domestic abuse, dark themes of relationships
author's note: i made this on an extremely impulsive whim and i have never been so terrified of posting this. my anxiety of trying to make this story went from writing this for three days straight to now suddenly having multiple parts. i'm literally almost done with part III so we'll see how far this goes. hopefully you like my very first fic... i haven't written in years... ehh... and thank you in advance for reading this :3
next part
part I
"you're either incredibly talented or horribly lousy."
george stated right before you tore down the stack of books from the pile. you groaned in frustration, ignoring that thing buried right under the surface of your heart. if bookstores and libraries could make something aesthetically pleasing, then so could you. just like you were able to do a year ago.
you huffed once more before starting the process over again.
george took your silence as a precautionary warning, tentatively placing a small cup of coffee next to you, hoping maybe a little space and some caffeine couldn't hurt your pride more than he did.
"as long as you don't make a mess, it makes my job a thousand times easier," he offered you a toothy, yet slightly lopsided grin before leaving you to your uncomplicated complicated endeavors.
george circled around the remaining tables that were also still being set up for the fair at the community center. you were a regular volunteer for these events, moreso because your neighbors invited you to them in the first place. one of your neighbors being george, who hobbled right back to where you were, smiling proudly at his empty tray.
"well, my services are done."
he flashed another innocent grin before leaving you be, "make sure you get that done before cass sees you!"
"george I'm going to throw this empty tray at you."
he let out a belly laugh, even though he was as thick as a twig. he pulled you over to him, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.
"there she is!"
you rolled your eyes at him, but couldn't help a smile. you still remember when you met him for the first time.
~ ~
your first week at the new apartment building was stressful enough, splitting your belongings in each individualized box and suitcase. and somehow through all that stress, someone as joyous as george just so happened to crash right into you with all of his groceries.
and he had this distinct smell, something between a book you haven't opened in years and an old worn out knitted sweater. at the time, he greeted you like you've been friends for years, something you deeply missed when you moved away from your hometown. from everyone.
"welcome to the neighborhood!!" he screamed in your ear, forgetting his hearing aids before he left for the store. you let out a polite, yet awkward, kind of laugh, thanking him for his very enthusiastic greeting. it's funny to look back on it now, a stranger you would've never imagined becoming friends with. including everyone else you met along the way.
~ ~
evelyn and cassandra peered from the hallway behind you, coming from the kitchen. cassandra with her big box of jewelry for her stand, while evelyn followed suit.
"did george call me cass again? i hate when he calls me cass. it sounds like ass."
"because you are an ass."
cassandra shot him a quick glaring look before he started laughing again, placing her boxes down. she pointed a shaky finger at him.
"you know one of these days, i really hope i end up dying before you. i can't stand that laugh of yours." she grumbled, which made you laugh.
"can't keep a happy man down cass. you're stuck with me forever," he bellowed, leaving a messy kiss on her cheek before she swatted him away. george dramatically saluted them before hobbling away again, wanting to mingle and socialize before the fair officially opens.
cassandra gathered her things once more as she eyed your table with a sense of pride.
"you never cease to amazing me sweetie. i always love how you decorate your books."
her words swelled in your heart and that thing that was buried right under the surface dissipated, only just for a moment. and you were completely and utterly okay with that.
"thanks cassie..." your voice drifting ever so softly. like she was going to catch it in the end like she always does.
~ ~
when you met cassandra last year, you heard her voice before you saw her. you were seated at the lobby of your apartment building, waiting for a blind date that never picked you up. it was about two hours before you decided to call it and when you looked up, you saw her.
she was a bright eyed woman, her grey hair tossed behind a small pink scarf, something you've only seen worn a few times or rather only in movies. she looked at you with a look of concern. you weren't crying of course, why waste tears on some stranger right?
but you got your hopes up immensely high and someone as experienced in her years as she was, she could tell a disappointed look when she saw one.
"oh my dear, what's the matter? are you hurt?"
you shook your head no, having no energy to formally respond with a voice.
"come here love, let's bring you back home. do you live here?"
you nodded.
she waddled her way towards you, keeping you close to her. she was a tiny woman, hunched over slightly as she led you to the elevator. once you were both inside, she asked what floor you were on and pressed the appropriate button for you. her floor being the one below yours.
"sorry we have to stop at mine first..." she began and you shook her head to stop her.
"don't be. it's okay... i was heading up anyway." you finally had strength to talk again, "i should be saying sorry for keeping you from getting home."
she scoffed at your response, displaying one of the warmest smiles you've ever seen.
"sweetie, you're doing me a favor."
the elevator dinged and opened to her floor, the woman turning to walk out.
"i am?" you asked her and she nodded, standing outside the elevator doors.
"yes. because no man deserves to make someone as lovely as you this sad."
your face went from feeling defeated to utter confusion as the woman smiled again. this time knowing exactly what you were going to ask.
"i know disappointment when i see it."
and just like that, the elevator door closed.
~ ~
"how are you feeling otherwise?" cassandra asked you, momentarily glancing over at your beautiful table.
"better. only sometimes," you responded, a lump suddenly appearing in your throat. feeling as if you were half lying somewhere.
"that's okay. just remember that someone who's broken you then doesn't deserve to break you now," she gently held your cheek, looking at you as if for the first time again.
"and besides, who knows who you'll might meet today."
~ ~
cassandra's words rung in your ears, weighing heavy on a hopelessly romantic heart. being alone was easy and you weren't lying if you admitted that to anyone because it was true. that was one of the perks of moving here, along with meeting all of your new friends.
but being lonely... that was difficult. especially when the fall season would blend into the holidays. one night after the other. because everyone seemed to find their someone by the times gifts were supposed to be given. which is why you wanted to put everything into the community fair this year.
and because heartbreak anniversaries were apparently a thing on your calendar.
you glanced over at your table, the last few books lingered for awhile. some people glancing over at them, while others would pick it up just to place it back down again. you didn't really know why seeing a book not being chosen hurt a small part of you. but it did.
or maybe you knew but didn't want to face it.
soon enough, you noticed someone hovering near the entrance, like he was contemplating whether or not to let his curiousity get the best of him. it may have been a little more than an hour or so when he actually approached your table.
you quickly stood up in response, as you noticed him eyeing a few of the older books. his hands lingered on each cover, not saying a word. his hair was blonde, wavy and messy, like he'd just woken up. the rest of him was covered by a black mask.
you did notice the way his hands moved though, hesitating to pick something. shaking a bit, a shadow crossed your peripheral and you could've sworn you saw a bruise somewhere on his knuckles.
"do you need help finding anything?" your voice coming out a lot softer than you had hoped. he looked up and you felt this entire weight lift off of you. like something encapsulating you just shattered into a million pieces and suddenly you could breathe again.
his eyes were so blue, like you were swimming in this endless ocean full of life and somehow you couldn't tell the difference between the stillness of the water or the blueness of the sky.
you could see a slight smiling forming on his face before he shook his head no.
"oh well if you want anything... i really recommend any of the classics."
his eyes glimmered a bit, letting his hand linger on one of the few books he was eyeing before.
"how much is it?" his deep tone caught you by surprise as you hesitated to respond. your own voice catching in your throat.
"oh um... everything is free."
"really?"
and just like that, you noticed something switch in him, a sense of curiosity filling those calm waters.
"which ones have you read so far?"
you didn't realize it, but your eyes lit up at the question. and he noticed. a small smile forming on his face.
"oh this one is my favorite... i haven't finished it, but it was really good from where i left off," you pointed at pride and prejudice.
you smiled at him, like your excitement was taking over and he could tell how much you loved talking about books. his gaze never wavering as you spoke about the stories that overwhelmed you and the others that never lasted a few pages before you decided to stop. he listened with such intent, such intrigue, it made you feel like you were someone he had known for years.
his aura was beautiful and a part of you wished that something would lead to something which would lead to something else. you didn't even feel anything in that regard, not yet anyway, but that same part. it was pulling... gently. ever so gently tugging at your heart.
"thank you for all of your recommendations," he began, holding on to ever single book you spoke about. you were about to protest that he didn't have to, but he was adament on keeping every single one.
"are you sure you want to get all of them?" your voice wavering on worry, but all he did was smile at you, letting out a soft laugh.
"i'm sure."
his voice was so reassuring, you almost forgot to offer him a bag. there was a slight pause before you realized, eyes widened in embarrassment.
you quickly apologized to him, running to the back to get a bag. you left the table feeling this overwhelming warmness flow through you as you noticed your heart beating against your chest. you tried to hide the excitement, but your heart was already getting your hopes too high.
but when you came back, your heart instantly dropped right into your stomach. a woman was now standing next to him, but something was different in his eyes. the oceans were no longer waves crashing against the seashore. they were climbing under thunderstorms. drowning in its own current.
her hair was dark red in color, flowing to accentuate the curves of her body. she was unbelievably gorgeous and your heart sank even more. but there was something about her that you couldn't figure out.
"here's your bag, i didn't mean to—"
"why your table is absolutely gorgeous, isn't it austin?"
he didn't glance at you or her or anyone. all he did was nod. you noticed the grip she had on his arm. it was tight. suffocating.
you offered the bag to them, but she shooed your hand away, like you were merely just a bug.
"no need sweetie, we were just on our way out. he was just looking anyway."
you tried your best to keep your composure, but you were fuming on the inside. only cassandra could call you that and at least when she did, it was endearing. not spiteful.
she flashed you the biggest smile that fueled your fire even more as she pulled austin away. you noticed him stiffen when they left the table. he couldn't even look at you.
and he couldn't even say goodbye.
#austin butler#austin butler fic#austin butler fanfiction#austin butler x reader#fic writing#austin butler x you#first fic#i want to cry#i actually hate him
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Ꮺ ❥ 𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆
characters: Miguel O'Hara x F! Reader
content warning: none! all fluff, slightly suggestive (but nothing too heavily detailed) 👀🌶️
Clingy, love-deprived Miguel O'hara, who just knits to your waist closely at the break of dawn. Mumbles softly, yet tiredly against your supple flesh as he feels you detangle from his weaving embrace and your shared sheets.
Makes him instinctively wrap his big, strong arms around your curvy waist and haul you back into his endearing, warm hold. You can't help but giggle at his neediness, especially this early in the mornings.
"Miguel, we have to get up" you chuckle lightly, feeling the warmth of his breath and silken lips grace against your bare flesh, his languid fingers tracing gentle shapes along your cute, excess belly.
"No." he grumbles into your soothing skin, you laugh once more, feeling his head nudge deeper against you, his arms restricting you from any further movement.
"Do you really want to leave the fate of the multiverse in the hands of a couple of inquisitive teenagers and a clueless father?" you remark, feeling his grasp around you tighten slightly, a muffled hiss permeating against the lower of your back. You chortle once again to his early morning grumpiness.
"...Solo necesito uno momento aquí contigo, nena" he plants a subtle, tender kiss on your back, adjusting his length to where his upper body nearly has to fold over your head to pull you close to his lanky body. You smile genuinely, lovingly as you stretch your left arm to reach behind you to nestle your small palm against his cheek "Mm, fine...but just one moment Miguel, then we get up and go to work" you lean over to kiss his bicep, feeling his muscle flex to your welcoming, warming gesture.
And after several hours of his "one moment" with you later, you could hardly feel a single muscle in your frail, aching sweaty body.
Your legs pulsed with such dire strain, your chest heaving ever so heavily as your breaths staggered heftily against your throbbing lungs. Every limb on your body just felt so delicate and raw.
You could feel his smug, hot lips purse into the slant of your right shoulder, gradually leering up the graze of your glistening neck to the juncture of your clenching jaw. His large, sturdy hands softly soothing up and down the stride of your fragile, labored figure.
"Vamos, mi amor...we have work to do" he snickers coyly into your feeble, sweltering skin, gently tears his looming frame from yours and climbs off from your shared, disheveled bed.
You sharply glare at him, face immensely coiled with gathered heat, agitation and fluster rushing through your still erratic nerves.
"Get bent, O'hara" you sheathe, listening to his low, bellowed chuckle resound through the musky scented room and into your ringing ears, his soft, gentle coffee irises glimpsing over his broad left shoulder to you, wearing that same flaunting, cocky of a grin on his beautifully structured face "If only we had more spare time- then I would gladly, bend you over to your heart content, mi corazón" he'd wink flirtatiously, dodging the incoming flying pillow you had flicked towards his direction.
Laughing more freely and boisterously into the confined space of your shared bathroom.
"You love me!" he chanted with continued snickers.
just a fyi that this IS MY original work, I just transferred this drabble from my old account @wanderingfaee.
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Cuddling with ffvii boys!!
⋆ ࣪. ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 ≫ Cloud Strife, Zack Fair, Sephiroth and Angeal Hewley
⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ fluff, fluff and more fluff, not proofread!
⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ enjoy!! :))
Cloud
★ Obviously he had to be the first one I'll be talking about
★ Yeahh... If you want to actually touch this guy without him freaking out, you'll have to wait for him to finally give in to his desires
★ Once he's warmed up, may god save you from his wreckingly long cuddling sessions ( poor baby he's so so so touch starved )
★ He doesn't care about the position, he just wants you close, really close to him ( paying off for all the times he has dreamt about you in his arms )
★ Will probably fall asleep very soon once he's got you trapped
"Feeling better?"
A low grumble of approval made your belly vibrate. His head was laying down on your stomach as you were sat on the headboard of the bed, your legs placed by his sides as he had his arms hugging your middle part.
He hugged you as if you were about to leave the room ( which was indeed, not happening ). His eyes were closed and his breathing was serene too, taking the chance to play with his hair meanwhile.
You were both winding down from the day, his hair still a bit damp from the shower he had just taken. And god did he look cute all sleepy on your belly.
You smiled, enjoying one of the very few moments Cloud would let you see his soft side.
Zack
★ My baby 🤧
★ Where do I even start, well, should we be asking him?
★ Because the moment your arms would welcome him in a maze of softness and care, this boy would be down bad
★ Automatically would have you trapped bellow him or viceversa, he likes physical touch maybe a bit too much
★ Is also one of the very few moments where you can actually hear silence again besides him, just the sound of his breathing mixed with yours
"Zack! I'm hom-"
Not even 5 seconds after you had shouted that into what you thought was your empty living room, he was already hoisting you up in the air by your waist like the puppy that was waiting for his owner he was.
. . .
"I missed you"
"I know, I know"
You tried to shush him, but it was quite a dificult task since he had his whole body on top of you on the sofa. His arms embracing your back, almost as if he didn't care about the cramps he knew he would get, he just cared about you.
He looked at you over where his head was laying on your chest, pointing out how pretty you looked when you smiled. God he is such a dork.
Sephiroth
★ Okay so this guy is... big
★ Not a fan of hugs but god, he lives off your arms wrapped around him
★ He would carry you bride style even when you both are cuddling on the bed. Keeping you close to him by your back and knees
★ You should be proud because this guy... this guy isn't really a big fan of having company nor physical touch with them
★ Once he is alone with you, he is a whole different man
Silence fell over your cute and tidied up room, Sephiroth's best music to listen to.
Your cheek met his collarbone, he was sat on your headboard as he kept you close to him with both of his arms. One by the back of your knees and the other on your back.
His heartbeat made you almost fall asleep by it's lulling trap, and you were sure you wouldn't last any longer either way.
Quiet nights like this before sleep were your absolute favourite and you could tell by the way he spoke to you with such honey bathed words that he enjoyed quite as good as you.
Angeal
★ GOD
★ He loves, loves, loves holding you
★ Anywhere and whenever, his arms would be around you. You're just too sweet not to be held, he thinks
★ But he also loves having your soft hands caressing his skin too, whenever you would let him lay his head down on your thighs as you caressed his forehead and hair.
★ He just loves keeping u close ;)
"G'mornin love"
Your mumbled out response was enough for his heart to melt over your weary eyes and softened voice.
Your arms were curled up in his chest, his strenght not failing him as he kept you close even when he was asleep. He wishes he could stay like this with you forever.
Curled up in his arms as the sun bathed your pretty face, the soft whines you would let as he tried to get you off the bed.
Bonus!!
His hands felt cold at first against your belly, but soon a scorching warmth would start to envelop your guts.
His breathing was serene against your nape, your back against his front. Almost poetically implying that you trusted him, that you cared about him.
No matter how deeply he would have fallen asleep, he still would and will keep you as secure and close to his body. Under the warm covers of your bed, everything felt nicer anyways.
So when you felt his characteristic blonde locks trickling your neck, you felt at home.
#[ 📄 c0smos!drabbles ]#ff7 fanfic#ffvii x reader#ffviir#ffvii#ffvii headcanons#final fantasy fic#final fantasy vii remake#final fantasy vii#final fantasy 7#final fantasy x reader#zack fair#cloud ff7#ff7 cloud#ffvii cloud#ff7#ff7 headcanons#ff7 x reader#crisis core#crisis core x reader#ffcc#sephiroth x reader#cloud x reader#cloud strife x you#cloud strife x reader#cloud strife fluff#zack x reader#zack fair x reader#ffvii angeal#angeal hewley
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—❝ you taught me the courage of stars before you left ❞
His love was light incarnate, and the realms shroud in darkness with the shatter of sleeping stars and the golden blood of sun-flesh the day everything soft and pure bled in the temple of murder. This was the yarn that bound pages would spin with the ink of scholars: the death of two with a single wound.
brief gore descriptions, death, dark urge tav (no use of the name), gender neutral!
They had never understood desire until Astarions touch fell upon ruined flesh. They burned hot as if hellfire, no remedy to kiss the lick of flames and craving for sweet ruby rivers gliding smooth down their gullet. Their belly, the very core of their damned soul quenched with the hands of light: of pale skin and carmine gaze.
Have me, the cursed one cries within themselves, devour me whole as though I weep with god-nector, poisoned ambrosia. Take me whole, as I am. Please, I beg of you, love my darkness as though it is holy.
They hunger for the pull and stretch of taut tendons, the split of flesh and tongue lapping sweet juices as Astarion buries himself deep within their ribs. Held ever close to their heart. The everlasting cure to the hunger of father’s bloodlust. It was almost comical; the darkest of urges quenched with the mere existence of one with a dripping ledger.
Visceral, howling, beastly, was their love. Ever willing to welcome a torn jugular if it meant their love would be left with a full belly. They did not know the path of undying devotion in a light such as this. Horrid and bloody, it was. It was their way of life.
Yet, they were the one to cleanse the blood from snowy curls and hold trembling shoulders over the bath rim on the eve of Cazadors death. From their lips left comfort and everything sweet and pure. From Astarions very existence, came the birth of new beginnings. The death of wretched and everything horrid.
They wonder now, basked in putrid death as their sacred life-blood flowed and lapped at stone, if they had done it right. If they loved truly, purely. If Astarion was loved as he deserved. He deserved light incarnate.
His lips speak frantic now. Words fall on deafened ears. They wish to reach, tuck unfurled white lock back behind pointed ear. They bleed, and they wish for him to feed and regain the strength seeping through small cuts and gash. They wish for one moment more, a single one, to look upon salvation.
But fate, its ever lasting cruelty, had other plans.
Perhaps in another life, I'll have done it right. I will love the way one should, I will cherish the very chance of being within your orbit. Oh, my love, how very sorry I am.
Within the temple of murder, comes a shattering bellow of agony. Strands of white fall upon their chest, Astarions fingers claw at the very base of his skull. Rocks on his knees, screams a roar of a broken man. Blood smears upon pallid skin and seeps between armor crevices upon the desperate cradle of his love's limp bod.
His love was light incarnate, and the realms shroud in darkness with the shatter of sleeping stars and the golden blood of sun-flesh the day everything soft and pure bled in the temple of murder. This was the yarn that bound pages would spin with the ink of scholars: the death of two with a single wound.
The world became silent in the wake of the flood. Except, it was not so, but it was him. The earthen soil did not quake with the roar of rushing water, but that of a man who plummets to the very depths of his true living hell.
#baldur's gate 3#astarion x durge#astarion ancunin#bg3 astarion#bg3 tav#astarion x tav#bg3 durge#bg3#astarion#durge#bg3 dark urge#dark urge#baldur's gate iii#baldurs gate astarion#baldurs gate 3#┊─larkaen's writings.ೃ࿐
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Fancy seeing you here😳 (in the COD simping club)
I was thinking(horrible desicion but hear me out)
(maskedFem!reader with Simon Ghost Riley, sort of a 'enemies to lovers' but not really cause they are platonics that love-hate each other and they do get along just with a larger vocabulary.
BUt Ghost is kind of swooning over her? a wee bit?(respectfully, in the corner of the room with his arms crossed,silently and lethally tho)
With cero awareness of his feelings, how he enjoys speaking with her and finds her precense borderline rehabilitating, perhaps he thinks his amazement is normal cause she's once in a lifetime of a unit and; she's also a woman and he almost forgets they exist sometimes so he's just a bit taken back, perhaps his brain rebooting the info. That makes sense.
But it's been almost a year so why is her voice such a melody still? Why does he seem to search for her eyes during sunny days the most searching for the color of them? He's too attentive with her, always getting sucked into the banter far easier than he should when she's involved in it. Can he even blame it on men's hormones when he barely feels anything, much less in that department? Do the rest of the 141 feel that too? Should he feel bothered or at ease?
Like some juicy slowburn 😈. During a mission they're bantering about Gaz being bitchless or her drinking coffee with enough sugar to send Price into cardiac arrest, and she's ambushed out of nowhere on her sniping point, taken for interrogation swiftly after being knocked out.
Angsty sht of her informing the ordeal before never responding to her callsign again, Soap mumbling a curse and Ghost entering autopilot to prioritize efficiency and the guys are a bit amazed by how swift he was wiping out everyone on sight.(Jhon Wick looking ass)
Finding her on a table with her hands and arms tightly bound and being held still by two men as another one had already used a scaple to cut through the middle of her torso almost like he intended to perform a surgery on her whilst she was conscious and aware. Simon shooting the two men right between the eyes but for some reason shooting the guy with the scaple on both of his legs and planting a knife on his eye whilst Soap cuts the rope, she barely gets a word out when Simon cradles her shoulders with one hand, his touch careful. And his voice a lot more soft than he anticipated it to be."Are you alright?"
Evac comes, she gets stitched back together at the hospital and needs to rest till it heals over, everyone cheers and hugs, and Ghost comes to acknowledge his feelings(as much as he can) when he closes the door of his bedroom and the emotions finally hit him, autopilot is turned off and he stares at a wall for almost an hour.
She becomes subject of his nightmares for a little while, he's outside clearing his head when she walks in with insomnia, he's troubled by the relief of the sight of her alive and his solitude being interrupted by the cause of his troubles, nevertheless she's still a welcomed sight, always a welcomed sight. "Oh, fancy seeing you here" "Shouldn't you be resting" "You need the beauty sleep more than me tho, Lt." "*Scoffs*" ..... "Wanna see it?(the scar)" "I knew you were a man(your dickl?)" "Is that why you've been up my ass all the time?" .... "Alright show me" she lifts her sweater up, a barely closed scar from bellow her ribs to bellow her belly button, he doesn't mean to but he flinches at the sight, tensed shoulders and furrowed brows the sleep deprivation has him in less control than usual and she notices. Still, he's fine cause he's Ghost and casually comments "It's healing rather quickly" he looks away unable to stand the memory of it just yet, she pulls it back down leaning her elbows over the window, just two feet away from each other. She takes the thin black mask off from around her ears letting the cold night hit her face properly, he looks away instantly. "It's fine, nothing you haven't seen" he very reluctantly glances back "So, they said y'all only found me in record time cause of you Lt." she glances at him and he glances out of the window, if he looks at her now he's afraid he won't be able to look away, "Just didn't want you spilling your guts to em" she snorts and her small laugh fills the silence of the night, perhaps the one in his heart aswell
"Your savior privileges have been revoked" "Too soon?" "....Just in time Ghost" she tilts her head to look at him, he makes the mistake of staring back out of reflex and thank fucking god for the balaclava he's wearing, he keeps his eyes from widening this time, but not from softening,cautiously mapping her face with her explicit permission trying so fucking hard to not make it obvious "Could convince me im the one with the skull balaclava with how avoidant you are" "Who knows maybe you scare more without the mask" she yawns and into her palm eyes getting heavier quickly, he's really fucking trying to unglue his eyes from her, a silence ensues, she looks at him again and "Thank you, Simon" she smiles gratefully, her gaze anchored on his and- isnt she a bit embarrassed to be this outright? He certainly is, his face burns, his heart skips a beat, seems getting flustered does the trick cause he finally rips his eyes from hers she chuckles at his expense and before he can reply she's standing up slipping her mask back on "Sweet dreams lieutenant"
Or
Enemies(frienemies) to lovers(but not really cause Ghost just realizes he's fucked up™) with maskedfem¡reader. Ghost begins to question the nature of his feelings towards her and realizing he's in fact a bit too fond of her. Im not quite good of height differences so if you'll be using height as a factor to describe, can she be atleast as tall as Soap? The whole 'petite' or 'chubby' Isn't my thing at all aswell, i need this woman to be a ball of muscle hitting her chest like a gorilla lmao. That weird drabble i put there is just to give kind of an idea but honestly do whatever you'd like, the way he realizes can be through some jealousy, some kidnapping, her getting drunk and soap putting her on his back or whatever i just wanna see him getting the hibbie jibbies, the toe curler hair twirling disease 💀
Feel free to ignore me i know it can be annoying to get a whole ass fanfic in your asks, have a wonderful day i love your writing💕
If anyone is looking for that whole ass fic this anon sent me then here it is, a fucking masterpiece I tell you <333
Like I can definitely see an enemies to friends to lovers situation with Ghost and of course there's gonna be jealousy because what better way than to push someone's buttons with tension??
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Month 10 - Leafbare
It was early in the morning when they scented the rogues.
Ever since Nightfrost’s death, Goldenstar and Orangestar had agreed that having a patrol on the border at all times was more dangerous than it was worth and patrols had been limited to daylight hours. For the most part, it hadn’t seemed to make much of a difference. The city cats still tended to avoid patrols and no more of them had been caught crossing the border. Of course, that just meant that no one had seen them. The rogues had started marking the border themselves and every day they tried to push the boundary inch by inch. But still, no one had seen them and no more fights had been had.
So Ospreymask was almost excited when the dawn patrol spotted a group of them loitering just past the border markers. Pantherhaze shuffled beside her making worried noises. Darkmoon, the EarthClan deputy, and his apprentice Boldpaw were with them and Ospreymask looked to him for orders.
“Should we go run them off?” she asked.
“Could we?” asked Boldpaw, “There seem to be quite a few of them.” He wasn’t wrong. From where they stood, Ospreymask made out about seven cats lounging in the snow or sitting up to look in their direction.
“Maybe we could talk them into leaving,” Pantherhaze suggested.
“Seems worth a try,” grunted Darkmoon. “These kittypets are all talk from what I’ve heard.”
“I don’t know about that,” Pantherhaze mumbled, tail twitching. Ospreymask thought back to Yarrowshade’s bruised ribs and bloody shoulder or Aldertail’s story about her dead siblings. She had to agree, the city cats seemed to be able to back up their talk, but she said nothing. She wanted to see them for herself instead of turning tail now.
Lucky for her, Darkmoon started towards the group of cats with his tail raised. As they drew nearer, the city cats lowered their voices and one of them whispered in the ears of a big grey tabby with a blue collar.
“That’s Razor,” Pantherhaze whispered to her.
“Really?” she asked, her interest piqued. “Exciting.”
“Exciting?” he glanced at her sidelong with a nervous lift to his brows. She almost laughed. A giddy ball of energy had started to build in her belly in anticipation. She always got that way before a fight, all bouncy and coiled like she was full of squirrels waiting to be released. She hoped that there wouldn’t be a fight but she couldn’t stop her adrenaline from soaring.
“Ah, hello there!” bellowed Razor cheerfully. “Why don’t you join us? We were just enjoying a bit of a meal.” He gestured to a pair of birds that had been partially eaten, even pushing one towards them. A gaggle of cats sat around him, sunning themselves or sharing tongues. Most of them wore kittypet collars of different colors and materials, some with bells, some with dangling charms, some with studs, some reflective even. Ospreymask was enthralled by the variety and beauty of the accessories. Only two of the cats weren’t wearing some sort of collar, and they both had notched ears. Sitting close to each other, slightly apart from the rest of the group, they watched quietly and Ospreymask shot them a smile. They didn’t return it.
Darkmoon laid a paw over the bird and pulled it closer, saying, “You’re on Clan territory. I thought you were aware that you weren’t welcome here.”
“That’s no way to start a conversation,” Razor huffed, tilting his head. “Sit! Eat! It’s on me.”
“No, this prey is stolen,” Darkmoon said, tail lashing. “And you’re on our territory.”
“So you said,” Razor sighed. He shifted his weight to sit more upright and leveled his gaze at the deputy. “Look, I wanted to be friends, but it seems you wild cats are too stubborn to understand the concept so I’ll cut straight to business. I know you’re hiding Scrap somewhere and I need her back. I won’t leave until she’s returned to me.”
Ospreymask scoffed before she could stop herself. “You make it sound like you own her.”
Razor smiled at her. “No, no, it’s nothing like that,” he chuckled, “it’s more like… father and daughter. It’s my job as the Speaker, it’s my job to make sure each of the cats in the city are looked out for and Scrap is not well. Surely you’ve noticed the way she tears her own flesh, haven’t you?”
“Last time we talked, you didn’t even know what she looked like,” Pantherhaze scowled.
“There are a lot of cats in the city,” Razor shrugged. “I’ve done my due diligence since then. The point is that Scrap needs help that only I can give her and it would be in everyone’s best interest if you would bring her here as soon as possible. Then I can get her the help she needs and I can leave you all in peace.”
Ospreymask frowned. He was charming enough but she knew better. She’d talked to Aldertail and seen just how scared she was of him. Whatever peace he offered, she was certain Aldertail wouldn’t be getting any of it.
“I’ll consider it,” Darkmoon said, causing Ospreymask to jolt in surprise.
“Good,” Razor said. “We’ll be here when you have your answer.” He settled back down, spreading out over the grass like he owned the place. Darkmoon nodded and turned to leave, Boldpaw slinking behind him. Ospreymask shared a stunned glance with Pantherhaze. She looked around the group of cats and realized they were all watching her. The attention made her pelt crawl and she took a self conscious step backwards before she moved to follow Darkmoon. Pantherhaze hurried to keep up with her. Over her shoulder, she heard one of the kittypets mutter to the others and they all laughed. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to know what he had said or not.
She bounded to close the distance with Darkmoon. The squirrels in her gut had turned into a stormcloud rumbling uneasily. “What was that about?” she asked, glaring at him.
“What do you mean? I told him we’d think over his offer, it’s not like I surrendered the territory to him.”
“You didn’t even try and get him to cross over the border,” she persisted. “If he’d been infringing on EarthClan territory, I bet you would have had a bit more to say to him.”
“Oh, Ospreymask, let’s not make it into a fight,” Pantherhaze fretted but she dismissed him with a flick of her tail.
“What would you have me do?” Darkmoon said, “We were severely outnumbered and we had nothing to bargain with. I did what I had to to get us safely out of that situation.” Ospreymask could see his point but it still felt like he was trying to ignore the point she was making.
“I’m just saying, you could have given him a little more pushback,” she grumbled.
“You should probably go tell Goldenstar about them being there,” Boldpaw spoke up. “That feels important for her to know.”
“Yeah,” Ospreymask relented with a frown.
“StarClan light your path,” Pantherhaze said as they branched off to return to camp. The wording stuck with Ospreymask. She wished StarClan would light their path! They needed an omen or a prophecy or something to help them get through this.
Razor’s little band there had just about as many cats as RisingClan had able bodied warriors and she knew for a fact there were more in the city. How many were there in total? How well trained were they? Even though it had been a whole year, the Clans still hadn’t fully recovered from the Red Gut. Maybe they would have been able to easily handle this before the plague but now… she worried about what would happen if they didn’t find some way to out-think or out-maneuver Razor.
UPDATES:
- Rather than fight with a group of rogues, a patrol leaves them to muddy the border.
#clan gen#clangen#warrior cats#warriors#warrior cats oc#warriors oc#clangen oc#clan gen oc#Ospreymask#Pantherhaze#Razor#Darkmoon#Boldpaw#clangenrising
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As you wish ⨳ Thorkell
Pride is not worth dying for.
notes: this will probably be updated with smut at another time, it's been sitting in my drafts for a bit and i just don’t have the brain for adding the spice rn </3 but i really enjoy the idea, and the next part will have a fun little plot twist sooo yk. hehe. enjoy my little story dump for now. drabble length, less than 1k.
warnings: wrote this from the time period of the series itself, so pls note that reader was sold to her husband! time period misogyny! also blood/death mentions
By expanding, you are consenting to viewing adult/dark content, and all warnings listed above. 18+ Minors DNI
Blog Rules/DNI
"IS THERE ANY OTHER MEN WORTH A DAMN IN THIS DAMN PLACE OR DO I NEED TO MAKE MYSELF WELCOME IN THE NEXT?"
The giant of a man leers around the destroyed hall, one eye clothed the other crazed. His face and clothing are splattered with blood, the same which drips from the flat blade of his remaining axe. The other still lays embedded in your husband's—former husband's—chest plate.
The other women lay cowering beneath the tables, some silent and shaking and other's shaking and crying. You, however, remain seated at the head table, as you have been since this giant and his men stormed the lord's hall.
His shoulders seem to sag as his bellowed call goes unanswered, and he shakes another stream of red onto the floor. His stare rounds the room and this is the moment you choose to stand, and he notices. His expression doesn't seem to change as you round the table, brows set, but his head tilts as you gather your skirts and crouch by the dead lord's side.
"He was almost worth the effort."
You glance up at him, finding the giant standing above you. He gives you a broad smile and his expression, misplaced in the chaos around you, recalls to you something you already knew, but had forgotten. His appearance meets the description; towering height, tall blond hair tied back in a headband, muscular beyond reason.
"I imagine there aren't many men worth your effort, Thorkell the Tall," you return impassively.
"Those are pretty nice words to give your lover's killer," Thorkell banters with you far too easily.
Resolutely, your hand closes around the shaft of the axe in the corpse, and it takes you great effort to pull it free. Besides the incredible heft, there is nothing special about it. But still, you trace its blade almost lovingly, fingers smoothing down from iron steel to the pine finish. You pay the blood no mind.
The enemy warrior doesn't tense, doesn't stiffen, nor show any sign of threat. You don't imagine you pose any to the likes of him, even with a weapon in hand. You tilt your head back to gaze upon his face as you lift the weapon towards him in offering. "That man was my husband, but I have yet to take a lover in this lifetime."
Thorkell pauses only a moment before accepting his axe. "Yet?"
You smile at him coyly. "If you so wish, I yet have a life ahead of me. I choose to be optimistic."
"Yer placin' your life in my hands?" He rumbles now, scratching his head with a slow forming grin. He’s peering at you closely now, and you can only hope you’ve got his attention.
"I was one of the many slave wives of this hall, but it was me you saw seated at my master's side. I can be valuable to you, if you wish to buy me."
"And who's to sell you then if your master rots at my feet?"
"My cost is them." You step closer to the giant, catching his gaze and purposefully drawing it towards the women still trembling on their bellies. They certainly haven't escaped his notice, nor his followers'. "You nor your men are to lay a finger on them. Allow them the choice of their own freedom, and in return I am whatever you wish of me. My fate lies with you now, Thorkell the Tall."
“Any of them English?”
You tilt your head curiously but answer him all the same. “No. Each of us are a spoil of conquest. Our homelands are elsewhere.”
Thorkell hums to himself and rests his axes on his shoulders. He seems to be mulling over your words, and you’ll take that for what it is, holding your head high and not allowing yourself to tremble after coming this far. Coming this far means nothing if it ends in naught. You are not scared of this warrior. You are not scared for even your own life. Your last few years have been hell under your former lord and way he treated you. Your only peace has been the kindness shared between the other wives and servants, so failing to save them is the only thing you fear. If you can do this for them, even if it leads to more suffering or your own death so be it. You will stand tall.
“As you wish then.” A weight leaves your shoulders for a bare moment, but he continues, and it begins to thump and patter as you try to keep a calm expression. His cheer remains untouched; there’s something deeper in his eyes now that calms you somewhat, though you don’t quite understand. “I like ya. Not like most dames, I’ll give ya that. So, I’ll give ya the chance to prove yerself.”
“To prove myself?”
The warrior turns his back to you and slams both axes into the wood of table, shafts held aloft from how deep the blades sink in. It’s loud, frightening the other women into short shrieks as they curl in on themselves. “Men! We’ll be resting here tonight and taking advantage of their fine hospitality. Anyone who touches the women here will be responsible for the stain on my honor and will answer to me. If ye be so bold, I look forward to it. We'll rejoin Askeladd in the morn.”
Some of his men laugh, cheer. Others look chastened, intimidated. You resonate with both. You imagine there are few who would find themselves at perfect ease with such a formidable fighter.
Thorkell turns to face you, grin still in place, and you find yourself cast in his shadow.
“Show me to yer dead lord’s chambers. They’re ours for the evening.”
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II. Passively Possessive
Part 2 of:
A/N: Im excited to have you guys read this second part. I took a while and it might not be grammatically correct but I did my best. I hope you enjoy it!
CREDITS AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:
@saradika for the beautiful dividers
@galesleftearring for being my first galemancer and tumblr mutual
@the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep @yolo-swaginz @beeblisss for reblogging part 1 and being absolute sweethearts 🥹
The next literacy class had come around quicker than expected. Not to mention how paranoid you were about bumping into Gale again. You had made an effort to keep your mind away from your last awkward interaction. Sadly, every time you sat in a classroom, you painfully cringed at the memory.
Now again, on your way to class, you decided to stop by the bathrooms. You fixed your hair in the mirror and placed your glasses back on your face. Coming out, you bump forcefully into someone.
“Watch it! What in the hell has got you in a hurry?” the person on the other side of the door complains. You step out, and a tall half-orc looks down at you. "Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?” He steps forward, closing the space between both of you. Your back is pressed against the textured wall. “Step back now, or I will make your face burn.” You warn them, feeling the hot breath of their smirk on your face. "Mmm, I can tell you’re fiery. The tips of your elf ears are almost glowing.” He laughs. You waste no time in conjuring a fireball into your fingertip and pointing it bellow his chin.
“You are lucky. I value my education over incinerating your thick skull. Get out of my way or burn.” The half-orc is taken aback and opens the way for you to get out. You swiftly turn the corner and bump chest to chest with the one and only Gale. Your complexion was a shade of raging red and your pupils dilated with the full concentration of your spells. The warm residual arcana flows through your body.
Gale looks into your eyes, trying to bring you back from the anger and wrath boiling in your blood. “Don’t let him get to you. Such a dimwitted sorcerer doesn’t deserve your attention or your gaze.” He places his hands on your shoulders. He was angry that someone had the audacity to treat you this way. You feel your muscles start to relax with his words. You take a deep breath.
"...and I would have to get a new desk partner. That would certainly be a hassle; I haven’t found anyone as competent as you for the position.” You let out a laugh. His eyes are bright, and he feels accomplished to have lightened up the mood.
“Thank you.” You feel the stinging of your body dissipate and transform into butterflies in the depths of your belly button.
“You are most welcome. Shall we continue with our academic duties?” He offers his arm, knowing your body had produced a copious amount of energy that faded as quickly as it was summoned. You nod, resting your hand on his forearm. You walk slowly to the classroom.
You were astonished to see the size of his house. Gale had invited you over to study in his tower. The place felt endless, most walls covered from the floor to the ceiling in books. The salty air from the ocean coming in from the open windows. The sun was soon to set but Gale had already prepared a lamp on the desk for you both.
“I was thinking, maybe we could try our protection spells on a notebook first?” You ask.
You had been tasked with creating a “Pushback Literature Protection spell” for your favorite book. You had chosen ‘The Annals of Romance’ it was a bit embarrassing. A novel of romance, betrayal, and undying love. With insight into man's most troubling questions about life and himself.
“I’ll volunteer my journal; it's filled with exceptional poetry and a few mediocre illustrations of Tara.” Gale chuckled as Tara slept peacefully on top of a bookshelf next to the library window.
You stand next to him and watch him recite the incantation from your notebook. His hands expertly flick and swish in the air. You shiver at the thought of his hands on your body but quickly push the thought away so as not to cause yourself any embarrassment by blushing. Lights and symbols seemed to fall from his palms onto the notebook. “That shall do. Should we test it?” He asks.
“Allow me; you already offered your notebook.” You take the leather book in your hands and unclasp the bronze buckle keeping it locked. You open his notebook, and a gust of wind throws you into the nearest tower of arranged books. You hit your head against something hard. You hiss and open your eyes. A statue of Mystra seems to look down on you mockingly when you hear Gale running to you. “Gods, I apologize I think it was overpowered. Are you alright? Did you hit yourself?” His voice almost cracked, worried he had caused you any harm. “Don’t worry, you did great. Im honored.” You laugh and touch your head. There is a wet spot on your crown, you press through your hair with your fingertips. Blood. Looking back at your hand, you feel dizzy. You didn’t do well with blood, and the hit from the protective spell wasn’t helpful.
Strong arms pick you up from the floor. You want so badly to sleep the pain off. “Stay awake, love. Whatever you do, don't close your eyes, alright? I will set you down on the bed and get something to heal you.” You listen to Gales dancing voice. His accent thick from the strength of carrying you up the stairs. You just look at him, his nose, and the curve of his lips. You reach out to touch his beard, and his eyes meet yours. His frown turns into somewhat sad puppy eyes, worried but enjoying this bit of contact before setting you on the bed and running out of the room. “TARA!” You hear him call out down the hallway.
The bed sheets are made of beautiful silk, a deep shade of purple. The pillow under your head was soft and smelled of rosemary and peppermint. Looking up, you see a sheer canopy with a small blue light floating down. You shut your eyes, feeling your head pulsating. You feel someone touch your hand—a cold and small hand. A woman sits beside you on the bed; her glowing aura seems unreal , her slick black hair almost touches the bed; and her blue eyes search into you. “As beautiful and powerful as you are, you can't be a distraction. He is meant for far more. He is meant for me.” She turns translucent until you can't feel her presence.
You hear Gales heavy steps come from the door. "I'm sorry to have taken so long.” He presses a damp towel on top of your head. You try sitting up, but your strength fails you. You feel yourself getting pale. Gale grabs you around your waist from above and pushes you up. He brings a small vial to your mouth, signaling for you to tilt your head. You think back to the mysterious woman and her convincing argument.
‘Distraction? Are they trying to get rid of me?’
You turn your head away from the vial and wince at the movement. Gale seems to read your hesitant gesture. "Andromeda,” he whispers to you. Your eyes are watering; you don't want to believe he could hurt you, but he could. “This is a brew of ashes of balsam and salt. Please trust that I want only what is best for you.” You look at him; his big brown eyes are watering too. You put your lips on the vial and tilt your head. He places a hand behind your head, keeping the towel in place.
“Please rest, I swear no harm will come to you. Tara will sleep here in case you need anything. Just let her know, alright?” You hum in agreeance. You wish you had the courage to touch his face again and let him know you trust him, but your body feels sore and the words seem to have left your mouth. You lay down, and Gale pulls the silk blanket from under you to tuck you in. Before he turns to leave, you grab his wrist and hold the edge of his hand. “Thank you." you whisper, falling into the darkness behind your eyelids.
“You are most welcome." You feel a kiss pressing on your forehead. You fall into a deep slumber.
“Come see.” You hear a faint whisper inside your head. You wake up and it's still dark outside. The room was cold, and Gales beloved Tara slept comfortably on a padded chair next to the bed. You slip onto the floor quietly, following the hums calling out to you.
The hallway was glowing with the pearly light of the moon shining through the mosaic window. One of the last doors creaked open, the hums becoming moans.
“Come see, he is meant for me. He is meant for the weave." The voice whispers externally. You look through the small space of the open door—a small prayer room. Your breathing gets caught up in your chest, and your pulse quickens. You have never seen someone like this.
Gale was suspended midair, completely naked. His strong back faces the door which you hid behind. He was in a trance, his eyes glowing white, and his lips parted. He moaned and threw his head back in pleasure. You shut the door, feeling deep guilt for imposing.
It seems you have angered his goddess, and she is threatening you away from the wizard. Why? Why you? You have met Gale three times and haven’t shared a moment of passion together. But she knew more. She saw the force bringing both of you together. She saw the unbreakable connection you would have if she let your relationship run its course. It would ruin her plans completely; she saw the priority you could become for him and how she would remain but a figure on an obsolete altar.
She was willing to do anything to stop that from happening.
#mystra if you’re reading this i’m beating you with a lead pipe#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#gale x reader#gale x tav#bg3#bg3 tav#gale dinner#gale fanfic#im crying
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Wake Me Up
Joel Miller x f!reader
Sensory Drabble: Coffee+Cream
Word Count: 756
Content: morning sex, fluff
He kissed you in his dreams often. Maybe it was the way your soap lingered in your hair while you slept buried in his chest, his subconscious responsive to your proximity as he held you wrapped in his arms through the night, the crow of the roosters rousing you both as the sun began filtering in through the periwinkle curtains draped over the window.
Your lips were soft even here, the featherlight presses so fleeting it had him rousing with a growl, the feeling of fingers brushing hair away from his eyes easing his irritation as his eyes eased open. His waking breath was cut short as you pecked again at his still-sleepy pout, your nose resting against his cheek as he felt a smile stretch across your face.
“Morning, sleepy head,” you greeted, the way your fingers brushed gingerly over his graying beard sending a shiver down his spine.
“Mornin’,” he grunted, voice still gravely with sleep, “What time is it?”
“Nine.”
As he began to shoot up, your hand gently pressed to his chest, easing him back into the cool, cream-colored sheets as your gaze locked with his, whatever panic that had begun to creep in quickly banished.
“You don’t have anywhere to be,” you soothed, his hands immediately finding purchase in the plush stretch of your thighs as you straddled his hips, his body still bare from the previous night’s activities, “Except here.”
“Okay,” he agreed in a shaky exhale, stunned and entranced, your warmth bearing down on him enough to have him forgetting the world that surrounded him.
Draped in nothing but one of his newer flannels, your nails raked through the dark hair covering his torso before reaching for where your bodies met, gripping his already hardened length and lining up, his eyes shooting down just in time to watch the way you welcomed him home. You liked him best in the morning, still too placid from a night of rest to control the whimpers and whines as you moved over him.
“Relax,” you sighed, his face twisting as he tried to subdue the already unbearable pressure building in his belly.
“Yes ma’am,” he sputtered as he tossed his head back onto the pillow, the tips of his fingers digging hard enough into your thighs to bruise.
When he pressed his thumb to your clit he marveled at the stretch of your throat as you tossed your head back in bliss, his mouth watering with the need to bury himself into your pulse point and feel the pounding of your heart against his skin. A bead of sweat had begun to trail down through the valley of your breasts, his eyes transfixed as it rolled across your glistening skin until it added to the mess already soaking the both of you equally where you joined together.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he panted as your pace began to grow erratic, it had been less than 12 hours since the last time he was buried in your heat but it didn’t matter, he was obsessed.
His thumb pressed harder, circled faster, and within seconds you were coming undone around him, his own release following as your cunt strangled him until he was bellowing into the morning sun. As his chest heaved, your hand dragged up his torso until you were cupping him by the back of the neck and pulling his lips to yours, the slow, lazy kisses the exact cooldown he needed to welcome him to another day.
“Is that coffee?” he asked, the familiar bitter smell finally becoming evident over the stench of sex that had overcome the room.
With a giggle, you nodded, the corner of his mouth ticking up into a smirk as he pressed back into your smile.
“Now how’d you get that?” he purred, unwilling to lose contact as he spoke, “They didn’t have any last I checked.”
“That’s cause I got it first,” you bragged, toying with the hair at the back of his neck, “It’s more fun that way.”
“Hmmph, always teasin’.”
A loud bang caught both of your attention, your eyes darting towards the stairs as his arms instinctively tightened around your middle. A second and third echoed again, followed by a familiar voice.
“Joel! I need you!”
Tommy.
“He can wait,” Joel grumbled into your neck, his tongue flicking out against your still-searing skin.
“Joel! I ain’t kidding! Get out here!”
“Sounds important,” you noted with an air of sadness as he sighed, he couldn’t deny that, “I’ll make you that coffee to go.”
Sensory Drabbles Masterlist
Joel Miller Masterlist
#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller fluff#the last of us fic#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#joels6string 2k
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Ch. 2 Angie
You carried one bag over your shoulder and the other two in your hands as you tagged along behind Mother Miranda. The two of you walked down the same path past the church and through the village center; you glanced around for any sign of your aunt's carriage but saw none. A castle in the distance caught your attention, its gothic architecture was beautifully sinister as it stood over the village like its watchful protector. People who passed by would bow their heads and tip their hats to Mother Miranda, their attention never lingered on you.
Mother Miranda led you to a large, circular site with three distinct paths: one goes to the bay, one goes to the hillside, and the other is blocked by two wooden doors. The door had a golden circle with six crow's wings attached to it. A gurgling cough caught your attention, and your eyes widened at a giant man. He sat in a horse drawn carriage with the back open, a table oit front with various objects and trinkets, and dried meats hung from the doors. His blond hair was slicked to the side and thinning, his entire belly hung over his legs and he had the widest grin you had ever seen.
"Ah ha! Good morning Mother Miranda!" The man bellowed.
"Good morning Duke, how are you doing today?" She asked.
"Well as always! Could I interest you in something? I have a whole new assortment of scented candles."
"Perhaps when I return, I am escorting Y/N here to the Benviento residence." She replied.
The man looked at you and smiled again, "good to meet you Y/N, I am the Duke. Exporter of goods from all across the world so if you ever need anything please stop by."
You gave him a nod and a half smile then continued to walk behind Mother Miranda. What an oddly welcoming man. You passed through the large wooden doors, they creaked and groaned from lack of use. The path was overgrown, the tall weeds brushed against your pants and even Mother Miranda hoisted her robe to keep from catching. The morning fog covered your shoes, from a distance it looked like you and Mother Miranda were floating. She seemed completely unbothered by the various headstones you passed until the two of you approached a tall stone structure with the name 'Claudia' etched on it. There were dolls surrounding the headstone with burnt candle nubs at the foot. Mother Miranda paused and bowed her head, she said some incoherent words then knelt down and lit a still standing candle by the grave.
The wind blew the dead leaves past your feet, it whipped a few strands of hair loose that fell in front of your face. You shook it from your head and realized that Mother Miranda had started to walk away without you; you sprinted to catch up and fixed the bag on your shoulder that had started to slip. The path curved and you paused to take in the view before you, it was otherworldly. The waterfall reflected the threads of sunlight that leaked over the mountain range with the rising sun, the spray of water created a shimmering rainbow over the mansion. The mansion itself was beautiful with rustic red wood on the outside, white stone for walls, and a regal, black iron fence surrounding it. A greenhouse was hidden off to the side but looked completely abandoned and overgrown like the rest of the path.
Mother Miranda knocked on the mahogany door and waited patiently, behind it you could hear muttered words and what sounded like a lady rambling. The door swung open violently and revealed a short, older woman whose scowl was worse than your aunt's, if that was even possible. You audibly gulped as the woman looked you up and down, she had bulging brown eyes, a hunched back, her hair was as gray as dust, and she wore a white apron that seemed to consume her whole tiny body. She was thin enough that if she turned sideways she would be invisible. The woman grumbled and waddled out of the way, still mumbling under her breath.
"Hello to you too Angie." Mother Miranda said with a bite.
Mother Miranda walked in and turned to look at you, her smile continued to radiate kindness and warmth, and you wanted to melt into a puddle underneath it. It surprised you such a woman could say something remotely unkind, but it appeared this Angie woman was the exception. Angie came out from around the corner with a broom in her hand and stopped in front of you. You forced a smile toward her and set down the briefcase to hold out a hand to her.
"Hello Angie, I'm Y/N." You said kindly.
"Don't care. Come with me." She retorted.
Angie walked away and you glanced at Mother Miranda who only gave you another smile and mouthed 'good luck.' She left through the front door, now you were completely alone with a woman who you were certain was going to cut out your eyeballs. Something hit you in the back of your head and you yelped from the pain as you shot your hand to where it struck; when you looked down, there was a small wooden figurine. Angie grumbled and tapped her foot just after you looked up at her. You picked up the briefcase and hurried up the stairs, she led you to a door and hit it with the handle of the broom.
"You're room. If you need anything, get it yourself. Put your stuff away, apparently I'm supposed to show you the ropes."
"Thank you." You mumbled.
Angie huffed and waddled away toward the stairs, you sighed and pushed open the door. The room was slightly bigger than the room you stayed in last night. There was a desk next to the door, a bed in the far right corner with a nightstand, lamp, and floatong shelf next to it, and a dresser against the wall across from the bed. You placed the briefcase on top of the small desk then the other two bags on the bed, it sprung to life and a thin cloud of dust billowed up. You coughed and backed up to the window to crack it open, the refreshing air was nice but was quickly interrupted by Angie yelling at someone or something.
You briefly poked your head out to see there was a strip of land then the waterfall. Before you go through with jumping you bring your head in and sign heavily. Spinning around on your heels you make your way back downstairs. Once down there you wander aimlessly through the main area, a sitting nook, a living/office space, and back around. No sign of her.
"What are you doing?" Said Angie from behind you.
"Ah!" You screamed.
You turned around quickly, she blinked at you as you collected your heart after it burst from your chest. Angie walked away to start the guide, she showed you the entertaining room, the sitting room, literal piles of rope, and lastly a hall with an elevator. The two of you rode the elevator down, it groaned and gently swung as it descended. Your knuckles turned white from the death grip you had on the railing, this elevator and Angie were going to be the death of you. It screeched loudly and clanged to a stop, sweat beaded around your collar and the small of your back from nerves and stress. Angie smacked her hand loudly on the side, a beat later the door opened.
"To your left is the lord's office. You are not allowed to go in there under any circumstances." Angie warned.
For someone so tiny and old she sure moved fast, you had to fast walk to keep up with her. She pointed to another door to your right.
"Storage, and at the end of this hall to the left is the lord's workshop. You're not allowed there either."
"Why?" You asked.
"Because I'm Mother Miranda and said so." Angie sneered.
"As you wish Mother Miranda. I would never dream of disobeying you." You said sarcastically.
"Mother Miranda? Do I look like a six foot tall doll? And they say I'm crazy." She muttered.
You groaned under your breath and rolled your eyes, that was a mistake. Angie hit you in the chest with the end of her broom, you grunted and held the spot she hit.
"Roll your eyes again and I'll pluck them out." She threatened.
Knew it. You thought.
She walked through the kitchen to show you where the cooking utensils, food, spices, and anything you might need were. The door at the end of the hall was also forbidden. You peaked out from the kitchen toward the door, the lord's bedroom. When are you found to meet this lord? You glance back over your shoulder at Angie who was talking to a little porcelain doll that sat on a table in the hallway. Not your issue.
"Angie?"
"What?" She answered quickly.
"When do I meet Lord Beneviento?" You asked.
"You don't."
"What do you mean?"
"You deaf? The lord doesn't like to be disturbed. I've never seen em."
Your eyes widened, "you've never seen them? How do you know there is one then?"
"Because last I checked ghosts don't eat or wear clothes. The food is always gone and there's always dirty clothes."
You furrowed your brow at her but decided to keep your mouth shut to avoid being hit again. How could she have worked here for so long and never seen them? Certainly they would have had to come out at some point. Angie went back upstairs with you and pointed you in the direction of the supply closet, when you opened it brooms and mops fell at your feet. You groaned again at the state of the closet, the mops and brooms were disorganized, everything was shoved and thrown in there.
"Starting now, you cook, you clean, you do the laundry, get the groceries, and you don't talk back." Angie ordered.
"What will you be doing?" You asked curtly.
"Bossing you around." She laughed.
She wasn't joking when she said she would boss you around because that's exactly what she did. Day one she had you scrub the floors on your hands and knees until both were red, swollen, and raw. She would hit you with that damned broom anytime you got snarky or rolled your eyes. You kept telling yourself this was better than being on the street, at least you have a roof over your head. You wondered what would happen if Angie and your aunt ever met. They would eat each other alive, or become best friends who would team up on you.
You stood from your knelt position and leaned back to pop your back. A bell dinged in the main room, you glanced toward the sound then Angie as she pointed to the elevator.
"Dinner time. Workshop." She ordered.
"How do you know?"
"You ask a lot of questions. Ugh. Each bell has a distinct ring, when you've been here long enough you know which ding and ring is which." She answered.
The elevator clanged to a stop and you both stood there, Angie groaned and cleared her throat as she waved her hands in front of her. You banged the wall and the door slid open, she hummed while she walked into the kitchen and pulled out pots and pans. You attempted to follow along with what she was making but she merely smacked your hands away so you decided to stand off to the side. Angie ended up making..something. It had food in it but it certainly didn't look like food, and now you felt bad for the lord. Maybe they are a ghost? Perhaps they died after consuming whatever it is that Angie made.
It took a minute but you found your way to the workshop, you knelt down and set the tray down by the door. Curiously you looked up at the door then over both shoulders before you leaned into the door with your ear pressed on it. There wasn't a sound, you thought you heard footsteps but they were so light it was hard to tell. You sighed softly and knocked on the door before standing to return to the kitchen.
Continue Reading
#resident evil village#re8#alcina dimitrescu#donna beneviento#donna benevento x reader#lesbian fanfiction#lesbian#wlw#resident evil 8#resident evil women
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Planned Obsolescence
Sequel to Worthy.
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Days had passed since Karniss's close call with his Matron, Kyrzhal. He'd managed to keep his head low and out of sight. It seemed she was sufficiently distracted by an unknown influence, something he was secretly grateful for. On his hands and knees with rag in hand he was in the process of scrubbing the kitchen floor. The blisters on his hands had begun to grow tender due to lack of rest. The threatening words of his mistress echoed in his fractured mind preventing him from taking ease.
He jolted upright when he heard the front door swinging open signaling Kyrzhal's return. He scrambled to his feet to put the kettle on, preparing a tray and expensive porcelain cups for her afternoon tea. His shuffle was interrupted by the familiar sound of his Matron's call, bellowing his name in a way that always sparked prickles on the back of his neck. He bolted to the front foyer of their home keeping his head bowed.
"Welcome home, mistress. How might I serve--?"
His gaze lifted just enough to spy she wasn't alone. At her side stood a tall drow male, a fine physique that complimented a middle aged face. His hair fell in rows of mixed length braids that stretched halfway down his back, a few rogue strands kissing his darkened jawline. Leather trousers appeared uncomfortably tight which matched the hide collar secured around his neck. The outfit was finished off with a loose gray top that laced up the middle, partially undone to intentionally advertise the pectorals hidden beneath.
"Mm there you are, Kar'niss," Kyrzhal said. "We have a new addition to our household. This is Xaros. I fully expect you to train him to befit my needs."
Kar'niss's jaw tightened and his stomach twisted. It felt as if a roaring cauldron was overflowing in his belly threatening to drown him. He found he couldn't take his eyes off of the new arrival, his amber eyes darkening the longer he stared.
"Did you lose your hearing while I was gone?" Kyrzhal stepped forward, the snap of her heeled boots sharp enough to pull Kar'niss from his thought loop.
"N-No, mistress. Your will be done, I shall tend this one." Karniss bowed as low as his spine would allow, the tips of his hair spilling over his shoulders to tickle his ankles.
"Tch, it had better be. I will be in my study, I expect my tea promptly."
Kyrzhal dismissed herself from the pair as a satisfied smirk stretched her ashen lips. Kar'niss waited until she was out of sight to get a better look at Xaros, his body wound tighter than a fly in a web. Xaros bridged the gap between them.
"I know that look. I've seen it one too many times," he began. "I am no threat to you, Kar'niss was it? Just another pretty face to add to the collection. She will bore of me in time, they always do."
Kar'niss narrowed his eyes and scoffed, extending the distance between him as he stepped back. "You will watch your tongue, consort! We are here to serve the Matron and you will do as your told. As we're all told."
Xaros held up his hands in a defensive pose while a bemused chuckle bubbled in his throat. "Easy now, house warrior. I mean no disrespect. I've merely been through it before." He stepped forward once more, craning his head to make eye contact with Kar'niss. "We shouldn't play into their games. We're better off allies than rivals, it makes our situation less…tedious."
The smaller of the pair tensed his shoulders and turned his head away. "Tedium is my situation and it will be yours too if you don't shut your blasphemous hole. We have work to do so concentrate your wretched energy on that."
Kar'niss turned away before Xaros could respond forcing him to follow the temperamental servant. Retreating to the kitchen he resumed his prior task although far more aggressively than before. He threw open cupboard doors, slammed jars onto the counter and stomped from one location to the next. Xaros stood by and observed the angry preparation with a twinkle of mirth in his yellow eyes.
"So is throwing a tantrum required in our daily chores or is that just a you thing? I wouldn't wish to come off as a copy cat."
He shot a filthy glare at Xaros but opted not to respond. This tea had to be perfect, the best he'd ever made and then some. He arranged each item onto the tray for a pristine presentation, not a drop spilled nor crumb out of place.
"Stay here and don't fuck with anything," Kar'niss said. He side eyed Xaros as he passed leaving the other alone in the kitchen.
He arrived at Kyrzhal's study with tray in hand, using his shoulder to nudge the door open. The elegant and venomous woman sat behind her desk scribbling in one of her many journals. Kar'niss rested the tray on the table and slid it to her.
"Your tea, mistress. I made your favorite trillimac pastries as well."
Kyrzhal nodded. "Very good, that is all."
Kar'niss stood in place while wringing his hands together, swiping his tongue across his lips to moisten them. Kyrzhal took notice, darting her eyes to peer up at the nervous man.
"What is it?"
"W-Well…," Kar'niss felt himself losing his nerve by the second. "I live to serve you, my every waking moment is dedicated to your happiness. I wish only to please you." He paused. "Do I m-make you happy, Matron?"
She tipped her head to the side as a look of confusion creased her delicate features. That look faded in favor of a rare smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. She turned in the chair and stood, reaching out with both hands to cup either side of Kar'niss's face, their eyes locked.
"Oh Kar'niss, my sweet consort…" She stroked his cheeks, drawing him near.
He relaxed in her touch, leaning into her hands to savor such a caress, one of very few he'd ever known. He felt something swell within his chest, goosebumps sprouted along his arms, a shot of euphoria unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Kyrzhal's loving expression dropped, replaced with wicked ire and disdain.
"…Of course you don't."
His breath hitched violently in his throat as his eyes widened, a lump forming in his esophagus that threatened to choke him in a single moment. Her fingers threaded into his hair and curled in an effort to latch and pull Kar'niss closer, their nose tips threatening to touch.
"You whimper, you whine, you tremble and cower. Your very existence conjures bile in my throat."
Her grip tightened within his hair twisting the strands taut which yanked at his tender scalp. He hissed through his teeth while the prickling pain scattered across his skull.
"Any other Matron would've flayed you and tossed your miserable flesh to the dire bats. Of course I wouldn't wish to make the bats ill so consider that my good deed for the decade." She released his hair and used both hands to shove him away nearly toppling him in the process.
Kar'niss hunched forward barely able to lift his head to look upon her, trembling where he stood.
"You have one purpose and that is to serve me. If you desire empty praise then find a duergar to violate. Those beasts are grateful for any drow morsels they can get their grubby sausage fingers on." She returned to her seat with a roll of her shoulders.
Kar'niss grit his teeth, his face hidden by the veil of his hair while he crouched nearby. Kyrzhal impatiently tapped her finger on the desk.
"Are you still here?!"
Kar'niss bolted from where he stood and darted out the door. He retreated back to the kitchen and rested his back against the wall near the doorway. He clamped a hand over his mouth to control his breathing, his heart slamming against his ribcage with such force he feared it might break free.
Xaros was nearby cleaning the floor that Kar'niss had been working on earlier. He sat up and saw the distraught man. He dropped the wet rag from his hand and stumbled over him.
"Kar'niss, are you alright? What happened?"
Kar'niss took in a shaken breath while misted eyes settled on the concerned drow ahead of him. His brows pinched into a hard frown using his hand to shove Xaros's shoulder.
"Stay away from me, just stay away!"
He rushed past Xaros who stood there with some confusion. Kar'niss left the kitchen while Xaros looked on, helpless. He clapped one hand over his face while the other rested on the counter top, hunched forward in defeat.
Silence fell over the household and the tension in the air had become suffocating. It was unknown what the coming days would bring. No party was prepared for the quake that would crumble the fragile foundation they tentatively stood upon.
#baldur's gate 3#kar'niss#drider#bg3#karniss#baldurs gate 3#my writing#long post#fanfic#tw: abuse#headcanon origin story#part two
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Gay Pastries
This is a Fionna and Cake (2023) fanfiction that includes stuffing, burps and belly noises. If you don't like this, please don't read. Thank you, and for the rest of you, enjoy <3
Marshall Lee laid against the brick wall, guitar in hand. He looked down at his guitar case; only about a couple bucks in there so far. Lee hoped to make more, so he could afford a place away from his mom.
So he lifted up his guitar, held the curve with his knee, and began strumming.
Tumbleweeds and Rattlesnake-
Grrrrbrbllle!
Lee was immediately thrown off his groove by his belly.
"Buddy," he jiggled his portly stomach. "It's my turn to sing, okay?"
brrrbl..
He couldn't afford a decent lunch with the money he had at the moment. But he felt his stomach writhe in hunger, pangs approaching by the minute. Then he remembered; the bag of cookies Fionna had given him. His mouth watered thinking about how wonderful they tasted.
As his belly bellowed a deep, sorrowful grumble, it was decided. Marshall was getting more cookies.
-
"Welcome to Butler's Buttery Buns!" A cheery Gary Prince greeted. "How may I be of service today?"
Marshall Lee scanned the pastries behind the glass and, while looking good, didn't find the gingerbread men.
"Would you like some help finding something?" Gary asked.
Marshall blushed.
"N-no, no," Lee chuckled nervously. "I'm good! I was just..browsing..I should really get going-"
GRRRRBRBLLLE!..
Lee paused in his steps, frozen in his own cringe. His face flared up in temperature. He cringed even more as he heard the man behind the counter laugh gently.
"I.. I'm sorry. I'll leave you be-"
"No no! Don't go!" Gary rushed over. "That was just..cute is all. But golly, your tummy sounds ferocious."
Marshall looked at the man's face. His eyes sparkled like stars and he had the most adorable blush.
"So what were you looking for exactly?" Gary broke the silence.
"Oh! Um..I don't even know if you have them..my friend gave me these gingerbread men that had this delicious raspberry icing.."
"You thought they were delicious?!" Gary grinned.
Marshall backed up in surprise.
"Sorry." Gary chuckled. "I just…love baking those cookies. And it's great to hear feedback like that..very reassuring. Thanks.
"Wow. Um..you're welcome, I guess." Lee blushed.
"Unfortunately, we're out. In the meantime, I'm baking more in the oven. But I don't want you going anywhere on an empty belly."
"Oh please, um," Lee read Gary's name tag. "Gary! I appreciate it. But I don't have enough money to-"
"Friend. Baking is a passion of mine. I don't do it for the money. It's on the house."
-
Luckily, his boss went home for the night, so Gary wouldn't suffer repercussions for giving away free pastries. He flipped the sign to 'closed', and then led Marshall to the break room.
"So while we wait for the cookie men to finish baking, I want you to try some other pastries I made! This one's an eclair with cream cheese inside."
Rrrrr…
"Wow…" Marshall took the eclair and took a bite out of it. Cream cheese poured into his mouth. But the icing on top perfectly balanced it out. It made his taste buds open up.
"This is so amazing!" Marshall tried to say, but his mouth was full, so it came out as, 'Fis if fo amafim!'.
"Chew with your mouth closed, cutie." Gary chuckled as he blushed. Marshall blushed back. He turned his attention to finishing the eclair. He licked the icing and cream cheese off his fingers once he finished. Lee patted his stomach in satisfaction.
"Goodness!" Gary chuckled. "You finished that one quickly!"
"It was so good, Gary." Marshall laid back in his chair, rubbing his belly.
Gllllorp!
"Did you eat too fast?" Gary asked, worried.
"Nah.." Lee moaned slightly. "I'm still hungry, actually…"
"Oh.." Gary blushed. "Well, let me grab you some more treats I made!"
"How many do you have in there?"
"A lot… my boss doesn't let me sell my own treats.."
"That sucks balls. These pastries are like, the best I've had in a while. You deserve to share your art with the world!"
"I…." Gary sniffled. "Thank you..um.."
"Marshall Lee."
Brbebrbrble..
"And this is my belly." Lee patted his chubby middle. "I like to sing, but he also likes to chime in, uninvited."
"It's very nice to meet you two."
-
And so Gary kept bringing in pastries. From creme puffs, to crepes, to muffins, and so on. With every creamy or sweet treat, Marshall's belly grew pudgier. His belly gurgled no longer from hunger, but from satisfactory digestion. Gary looked upon Lee's belly with pleasure. It looked so soft and plump.
Ding!
"Ah! The gingerbread men are ready! I'll go icing them up!"
Gary left to the kitchen as Lee was left with his distended belly.
grrarrr..
"Aw, getting packed in there? I was just having fun.."
Lee began rubbing his stomach, but it just wasn't doing the job.
"Here they are!" Gary cheerfully came in with the cookies. "Oh my, you look positively stuffed, Lee."
"I know." Lee sighed. "But I want more…but my hands aren't helping calm my tummy down much.."
"Would you.." Gary began to blush. "Want me to help."
Marshall blushed back.
"Please. Of course."
Gary gently placed his hand on Marshall's belly. He could feel everything gurgling under his hand. It was so soft and warm, like a heated pillow. He began rubbing clockwise. Lee already felt better, yet flustered. His belly was throwing a tantrum in there, yet Gary didn't seem to mind. He just smiled warmly as he rubbed. So Marshall just laid back as he sighed in relief.
OOOUUUURP!
Marshall let out a humongous belch. Blushing, he covered his face.
"Excuse me.." Lee groaned.
"You're excused." Gary chuckled. "That's probably what had your tummy throwing a riot! You feel better?"
Marshall nodded as he sighed in relief.
"I think I…made enough room for those cookies.."
"Here, let me feed you. You've worked really hard today, Marshall Lee."
#pudgewizard#belly kink#belly noises#tummy noises#stomach noises#hungry tummy#stomach growling#male wg art#stuffed belly#hungry noises#hungry belly#belly rubs#belly growls#tummy talking#tummy growls#tummy kink#starved to stuffed#stomach gurgling#stomach growl
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Legal Disclaimer
The Sojourner’s Rest is an adult establishment, catering to adult patrons of eXtrEMe GiRth varying needs from across many different dimensions.
The Proprietress is 18+ and only 18+ patrons are admitted. The Proprietress is not responsible for any minors who arE cLaiMEd By tHe VoiD get lost in the forest.
The Proprietress reserves the right to anNiHiLaTE deny service to any patron found violating the establishment’s policy of universal love, acceptance, and compassion.
Check ‘#the sign’ for a list of welcome kinks.
LoOk At tHe @multidimensionalbulletinboard oR eLsE
dOn’T bREaK kaYfAbE
ThERe iS No stATuE.
Welcome to the Forest
Nestled into a grove in a verdant forest, itself the heart of an inter-dimensional nexus, sits an idyllic cottage. This is the Sojourn’s Rest, an establishment that patronizes those who are passing between dimensions, putting them up for a night, as well as providing refuge for those that has become lost in the Forest. Smoke drifts up from the stone chimney, and a warm light emanates from the windows, inviting you to come inside, to mingle with whomever may be inside, and to rest…
…Or, you could ignore it, and press on through the forest, in search of the portal which will bring you to your destined dimension. Just don’t get lost~
Guest Book bellow~
(Pictures of guests may be outdated!!! So hard to find film in the Forest!!!)
Residents of The Sojourner’s Rest
[A picture of an adorable woman is pinned here. Her vibrant red hair is luscious and long, flowing freely down her back to her waist. Her emerald eyes shine with enthusiasm, and a bright smile dimples full, lightly freckled cheeks.]
Lucy Loveless
110lbs., 5’4”, ?? y.o.
Human B&B Proprietress
Ayyy, lmao, it me, ya gurl! (I miss the internet so much). I figure if I’m going to take down information about my guests, it’s only fair I do the same for myself. I run the Sojourner’s Rest — which is actually my second, and much more successful B&B. I’ve just always liked taking care of other people, so this just seems like the job for me! I’m not exactly sure how I got here, or how long I’ve been here, but even if I could get home somehow, I don’t think I would go. I’m much happier here, and it’s not like there was anyone who’d miss me.
Guests from Faerûn
(Picture to be added)
Lae’zel
180lbs., 6’1”, 20 y.o.
Githyanki LV 12 Battle Master Fighter
Str: 20, Dex: 14, Con: 16, Int: 8, Wis: 12, Cha: 8
This one scares me… always hissing, always making noises that feel like swears… It’s like living with cat that hates you. A mean, hissing cat you really want to rub the belly of but it won’t let you. But instead of a cat, it’s a muscly frog lady, and instead of getting scratched by claws, you get run through by a giant silver sword. So, you know, it’s risk versus reward.
(Picture to be added)
Shadowheart
150lbs., 5’6”, 40 y.o.
High Half-Elf LV 12 Light Domain Cleric of Selûne
Str: 12, Dex: 18, Con: 14, Int: 10, Wis: 20, Cha: 10
In the name of the Moon, she will punish you! Haha! Uh… Anyway, she really likes the whole ambiance of the cottage, she’s especially fond of the flower garden. She has a love for life I’ve seen before; the kind you only develop after years of not living.
(Picture to be added)
Karlach Cliffgate
220lbs., 6’1”, 30 y.o.
Zariel Tiefling LV 8 Oath of Vengeance Paladin LV 4 Battle Master Fighter
Str: 18, Dex: 10, Con: 14, Int: 8, Wis: 10, Cha: 18
She’s like a big teddy bear! A big, muscly, flaming teddy bear. And I don’t mean flaming as in, flamboyantly homosexual. (Although, c’mon, look at her) She’s literally flaming, there are little holes in her that fire comes out of, and her hair is also kind of fire? And not like, as in really cool and awesome. (Although, c’mon, look at her). It like, glows and is hot, but it doesn’t burn up. That all said, she’s a big sweetie who I bet is great for cuddling on a cold night~
(Picture to be added)
Minthara Baenre
170lbs., 5’7”, 100 y.o.
Lolth-Sworn Drow LV 5 Assassin Rogue LV 7 Gloomstalker Ranger
Str: 8, Dex: 18, Con: 14, Int: 12, Wis: 12, Cha: 14
I don’t understand how a person can just be mean. I get some people are mean, but to just be mean? Nothing else, and for no reason? I can’t imagine how a person ends up that way. She’s rude to the other guests, so full of herself, and gets violent at the drop of a hat. She is — and I never thought I would say this about a person — totally beyond any kind of redemption. And I want her to spit on me.
(Picture to be added)
Leslie Applebottom/‘Lez’
40lbs., 3’0”, 34 y.o.
Lightfoot Halfing College of Lore Bard
Str: 8, Dex: 16, Con: 8, Int: 14, Wis: 12, Cha: 20
I never thought someone so small could be so intimidating… and I never thought someone so intimidating could be such a sweetie! Always in a chipper mood, compliments my cooking, offers to help out around the cottage (she’s very handy!), even plays music for free! She seems to be the one who resolves any conflict among her friends, using her words to make sure things don’t come to blows, but she’s not afraid to use her aforementioned intimidating presence to solve problems as well! Seducing them to make them docile also doesn’t seem to be off the table…
(Picture to be added)
Dame Cynthia Hale
180lbs., 6’, 30 y.o.
Human LV 12 Oath of Ancients Paladin Zariel Tiefling LV 5 Fiend Warlock LV 7 Broken Oath Paladin
Str: 8, Dex: 8, Con: 16, Int: 14, Wis: 12, Cha: 20
Dame Cynthia may just be one of the most polite guests I’ve ever had! So gallant and chivalrous, and dashing in that shiny heavy armor~ I guess I should expect nothing less from such a pious and selfless knight! A hero using her own body as a shield for the innocent! …Of course, Humans don’t have horns and tails, and Paladins don’t smell of sulfur, yet she wants me to believe that’s what she is? I’m not that naïve. I would not recommend bringing it up to her, though. She crushed a mug with her bare hand when I did, and she likes me!
(Picture to be added)
Goodberry
135lbs, 6’2”, 269 y.o.
Wood Elf LV 12 Circle of the Moon Druid
Str:8, Dex: 14, Con: 16, Int: 8, Wis: 20, Cha: 12
Now this is a tricky one to keep track of! She’s a cat as often as she is an Elf, and a bear twice as often as that! When I asked her about her name, she said that she changed her name when she changed her real body’s look, and I guess if you can change your body as easily as you can change your name, why wouldn’t you? I would give myself extra arms to clean better… She’s a good guest, very mellow and good spirited, and would be a pleasure to be around if it weren’t for her… well, smell. It’s funny, of all the animals I’ve seen her turn into, a skunk is not one of them, but I always smell one when she’s around…
(Picture to be added)
Maddison Murphy/‘Paunch Drunk Murphy’
200lbs., 5’7”, 42 y.o.
Human LV 8 Way of the Open Fist Monk, LV 4 Thief Rogue
Str: 8, Dex: 20, Con: 16, Int: 8, Wis: 16, Cha: 10
So, I think she used to be called ‘Punch Drunk Murphy’, being that fighting drunk was her whole thing, but the ‘a’ got added when she developed a, well, paunch from all her drinking. Not much has changed there, though now she relies on throwing her weight around rather than using any strength, and nobody can hit her because she wobbles around so much. She’s… boisterous, let’s say. And very fond of her drink, obviously. I’d prefer it if she were less rowdy, but she’s not technically breaking any rules, so I can’t really do anything about it… Hard to believe she’s technically the oldest of her party. And a mother!
(Picture to be added)
Talica Dahlmass
140lbs., 5’6”, 47 y.o.
Drow Half-Elf Necromancy Wizard
Str: 8, Dex: 16, Con: 14, Int: 20, Wis: 10, Cha: 10
She’s the most level-headed and calm of her friends, and honestly? That makes her the scariest. She’s cold. Calculating. Charming Conniving. She knows what it takes to get what she wants, and she’s willing to do it. If helping will get her what she wants, she’ll help. If hurting advances her goals, she’ll hurt. It makes no difference to her. That kind of raw, self serving ambition never leads anywhere good. And everywhere she goes, an aura of death hangs over her… I swear I smell rot on her as well…
(Picture to be added)
Cirice
150lbs., 5’8”, 22 y.o.
High Half-Elf Wild Magic Sorcerer
Str: 8, Dex: 14, Con: 16, Int: 10, Wis: 10, Cha: 20
Definitely the most… unpredictable guest I’ve ever had. It’s almost like she doesn’t think about what she does, she just acts on impulse. That has to be it; I can’t think of a rational explanation for half the thing she does. One minute she’s cleaning her clothes, the next she’s setting them on fire. One minute she’s beating someone within an inch of their life, the next she’s kissing them (although that seems to be the common theme for this bunch). One minute, there’s light and life in her eyes, the next… someone else is in there…
(Picture to be added)
Grymglain Stoneflow
200lbs., 4’4, 44 y.o.
Deurgar LV 12 Berserker Barbarian
Str: 20, Dex: 16, Con: 16, Int: 8, Wis: 10, Cha: 8
She won’t come inside the cottage. Instead she sets up a tent outside whenever her group comes to visit. I respect a person who feels at home in the wild, forgoing the comforts and stresses of modern living in favor of a life in oneness with nature. And I’m especially impressed she hasn’t been claimed by the Forest. I just wish she wouldn’t ‘forage’ in my garden. At least she shares the meat from her hunting, but I bet it’s only because she thinks I’m a better cook than her…
(Picture to be added)
Hidi Goldseeker/Hide ’n Seek
40lbs., 3’4, 33 y.o.
Deep Gnome LV 7 Thief Rogue LV 5 Champion Fighter
Str: 9, Dex: 20, Con: 16, Int: 12, Wis: 10, Cha: 12
HIDI IS A MEAN STINKY THIEF WHO STOLE MY FAVORITE SET OF SILVERWARE! THAT’S RIGHT, HIDI! I KNOW IT WAS YOU, AND I KNOW YOU’RE READING THIS! YOUR LITTLE GOODY GOODY ACT DOESN’T FOOL ME! I’M BUSTING OUT MY JUNIOR DETECTIVE KIT, AND AS SOON AS I HAVE EVIDENCE, I’M SENDING YOU TO THE SHADOW REALM!
#legal disclaimer#welcome to the forest#rules#blog rules#muses#muse list#lucy loveless#the proprietress#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate iii#bg3#role play#roleplay#rp#weight gain#pregnancy#guest book#oc#ocs#my ocs
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OK, there are a bunch of other buildings in this area that will definitely need checked out, but for right now, let's go back into the House of Healing, because we need to avenge Arabella's parents and also maybe find something relating to the whole Thaniel business.
There's another of the creepy undead nurses in the front hall; she looked Hector over and then decided he was "not so well, but well enough to wait" and instructed him to "join the line."
There is, to be clear, no line, and the place is incredibly empty.
Hector then had a series of potential options, each slightly more amusing than the last, for deceiving the nurse, the ultimate goal being to get in to see the doctor - presumably Malus:
My favorite part is that #4 isn't deception. I guess at this point it can be safely assumed Hector is feeling pretty fucked up internally. :P
The monk line is tempting but as we know, Hector never defaults to deception, so we'll go with the persuasion one.
"Wait! My wounds may not be visible on the outside, but I still need help!"
Narrator: There's a hint of recognition in her eyes as she studies you.
(Her eyes are covered, game. What is going on with the writing in this section? :P )
"The unseen wounds of war. The doctor's hand will close them. Down to the theater. Be swift. Be saved."
Huh. I think Hector is as surprised as anyone that that worked.
OK, on into the theater, where Malus is still saying creepy and unsettling things over the body of someone who is, astonishingly, not dead but looks like he might be soon:
In we go!
-----
"The objective of the scalpel, sisters, is to soothe," Malus Thorm is saying in a slow, even tone as Hector and his companions approach. "For the scalpel, indeed, is an extension of Shar..."
His voice is mellow, almost soothing, but his appearance is anything but. It seems at a glance as if he was once an elf - a drow, perhaps - but his body is mutilated almost beyond recognition. His arms from the elbow down have been replaced by horrifying mechanical claws tipped with delicately-pointed scalpels. His legs, too, have been replaced at the knee with an repellant combination of flesh and metal, extending the limbs to almost twice their normal length.
His eyes are covered by a set of goggles wrapped around his head, masking his gaze, and on his forehead sits a strange dark mirror. His skin is scarred and pockmarked and inlaid with a design of what appears to be gold filigree burned into his flesh.
His voice rings with madness and his clothes, once fine, are stained with blood.
"See," he croons, "how the patient reacts when I but stroke the right nerve. Hear its comfort. Hear the very melody of mercy..."
He draws one of the scalpel-claws across the ripped, ragged skin of the human man bound on the operating table. The man whimpers miserably, too exhausted to scream, his bloodsoaked features contorting with pain.
Malus turns his head, surveying one of the swaying undead nurses next to him. "Pray, sister," he says mildly, as if directing a child in a minor bit school exercise. "Show us the extent of your beneficence."
The nurse lurches forward, her rigor-mortis grip tight around the hilt of a small surgical knife. With a clumsy slash, she sinks it into the "patient's" belly. The man mewls and squirms weakly as it scores a deep red line through his flesh.
"Stop!" Malus bellows. The nurse draws back at once, pulling the knife from the wound. "Stay your hand," the mad doctor continues, his voice at once returning to its original calm, even rhythm. "For it slaps where it should stroke. We can hardly hear the patient's sighs of solace..." A slight pause. Then he smirks. "Perhaps it is our unexpected audience that makes you quiver..."
He turns slowly on those strange, gangly legs, looking down at Hector standing in the doorway of the surgical theater.
"Come!" the doctor cries, his tone horribly jovial. "Step forward! You are no sister, but that matters none. Every student is welcome."
It is taking all of Hector's self-discipline not to be sick on the floor. The place reeks of blood and viscera and the abject cruelty on display is abhorrent. Surely even Shar does not indulge such atrocity.
How many servants of Selune have lain under this man's blade? How many has he tortured and bled out, mocking them with his madness?
Did Komira and Locke die in this room?
His arms are crossed tight on his chest, his fingers curled into fists; his jaw trembles with how tightly it is clenched.
"You will stop this sick spectacle at once," he says, each word cold as ice through clenched teeth. At his side, he sees Karlach give him a sharp sideways glance; she has never seen him quite so visibly disgusted and angry.
"Sick?" Malus smiles brightly, the blankness of his goggles lending an even more maniacal air to the words. "Quite. But on the cusp of a cure..."
"Absence..." murmurs one of the nurses, as if responding to a litany.
"Absence..." Malus agrees softly. He turns to look again at his "patient," and raises one of his clawed mechanical hands. "No other word captures the heart of Shar so perfectly...it is the scalpel-led journey from pain...to peace..."
Punctuating each word, he stabs downward twice. The man has no voice left to cry out, but writhes in agony as blood pours from his emptied eye sockets.
"A stinging truth..." Shadowheart murmurs unsteadily. "But...a truth nevertheless..."
She is lucky, perhaps, that there is a greater threat to be concerned with here, or he would absolutely turn and lash out at her for that. A sudden incandescent rage is rising in Hector's chest - fueled in part by everything he has been forced to participate in, walking through temples and altars and corrupted fields of his goddess's enemy, but set to light but the brutality that is now before him. He has stood by Shadowheart as an ally in suffering, but if she can see what he sees here and condone it, there is no hope for her.
Were he calmer, perhaps he would hear the halting tone in her voice, the struggle to speak, just as Lae'zel struggled for words as she saw Vlaakith's power crumbling away. But he is hearing nothing but his own fury now, and his eyes are fixed on Malus as if they could burn a hole through his blasphemous skull.
"See?" Malus crows gleefully, entirely unaware of the drama playing out before him. "What is the light of eyes but the cancer that causes one to witness the laceration of being?" He steps forward off the surgical platform with lithe, alien steps, closing the distance between himself and Hector eagerly. "If light is the symptom, then darkness is the cure, for in light there is presence, but in darkness there is absence."
"In light is presence...in darkness absence..." the nurses intone in response.
"But you..." Malus comes to a halt in front of Hector and presses the tips of his clawed arm against his chest. "Look," he sneers, "how the succour of Shar eludes you. See how painfully *present* you remain..."
He twists the mechanical hand so it lifts, draws ever-so-gently along Hector's cheek. "We do not wish to see you suffer so," he croons. "Let us cure you..."
Perhaps, were he a stronger man, he would continue to speak with this abomination - call on Selune and his own hard-won knowledge to find a way to learn what they came here to learn, something of Thaniel or Zevlor or Ketheric...
But in this moment, something has snapped inside him. It is too much, all of it. It has been too much for days in this horrible darkness so far from his goddess and he finds he can no longer bear it. This last bit of cruelty is too much, and he has no more words left.
Attack.
A hoarse, wordless cry breaks from him and in a single smooth motion he pulls his quarterstaff from his back and swings it to smash with a dull, bone-crunching thud into Malus's face.
#bjk plays baldur's gate 3#hector carlisle#WELLP#this is super fucked up holy mackerel#cw blood#cw creepy medical stuff#cw eye stuff (described briefly only)#also i'm honestly surprised it took this long for hector to snap given how terrified he has been for MONTHS#but apparently this is what finally did it#he can have a little mad rampage#as a treat
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Boarding School for Giants (6/25)
*** This chapter contains vore! ***
------ Chapter 6 ------
I slammed my fists and feet against the skin surrounding me, but the hand didn’t budge, was entirely unfazed by my assault. Rather, I lost my balance and fell against the inside of the hand as I was lifted high into the air. The hand opened, only to allow two huge fingers to pluck me out, squeezing tightly around my midsection. I shrieked in pain and tried to shake off my dizziness as I was dangled at least fifty or sixty feet off the ground. As my eyes drifted upwards to the giant’s massive face, my blood ran cold. I took in the same green eyes, freckles, red hair, and monstrous teeth that had been burned into my memory from the day before.
“We meet again!” the giant declared with a bloodthirsty grin. “I’m here to finish what I started yesterday.” He leaned his face closer to me, seeming to expand larger before my eyes. “I thought about it, and concluded I simply couldn’t stomach the thought of going to the same school, and being treated as an equal, with the likes of a repulsive human like you. So, I decided I’d put you in your place, in my stomach instead.”
My eyes widened in horror. I screamed for help and flailed against his hand, desperately hoping somebody, anybody, would hear me and stop this madness. He licked his lips gleefully and opened his jaws wide. The inside of his mouth, fleshy and red, was dripping profusely as he salivated with anticipation.
“No!” I screeched.
“Yes!” the giant jeered. “Down the hatch you go!” He dangled me over his gaping maw, clearly enjoying my suffering, before dropping my squirming form inside. My screams were abruptly muffled, cutting off any chance of outside rescue. Unlike before, he didn’t waste any time. I slid across his slippery tongue right into the dark abyss of his gullet. He swallowed, and I slipped smoothly down his throat.
This was the end for me. The powerful muscles of his esophagus squeezed me with suffocating force as I was dragged down into hell, powerless to stop my long, terrifying descent. His thunderous heartbeat, along with bellowing gusts from his lungs, banged in my ears as I passed through his chest. I dreaded what awaited me below. I couldn’t imagine the horrors of being digested alive, but I was about to find out what it would feel like.
I reached the end of the restrictive fleshy tube, and dropped into his stomach, a fleshy sack full of gurgling gastric juices. I landed in a puddle of stomach acid, immediately feeling an unpleasant tingling on my skin as the corrosive fluids slowly began to digest me. I thrashed about blindly in the pitch-black darkness, using every last bit of energy I had left to attack the squishy, churning walls of flesh that I was imprisoned within, to no effect. The unbearable heat, acrid fumes, and rancid stench began to overpower my senses as I struggled to breathe. While I bemoaned my horrid fate, I welcomed the loss of consciousness. I didn’t want to be awake for my last moments as my body disintegrated into mush. I didn’t really even have time to comprehend my own death or make peace with myself before gray static invaded my vision and I faded into nothingness.
The next thing I was conscious of was a feeling of rising. I was terribly cramped, and being squished again by powerful muscular contractions in the flesh all around me, but I was no longer inside the giant’s belly. I didn’t understand what was going on but I wanted it to end already. My ears hurt from disgusting, deafening retching sounds. From above I saw a faint glimmer of light. Was I dying? Was this the light at the end of the tunnel people always talked about with near-death experiences? I guess I always assumed the ascension into heaven by default would be painless, less miserable, less… meaty?
As I rose up, the light coalesced into a more distinct form, outlining the shape of a gullet and uvula. My mind, still fuzzy, started to understand. With a final, prodigious spasm in the throat, I was expelled out, flying on the wings of freedom as I sailed out of the giant’s open jaws. Luckily, he was doubled over near the ground so I didn’t have far to fall. I hit the concrete with a painful splat, knocking the wind out of me. I gagged and coughed and greedily sucked in the fresh cool air. Somehow, by some miracle, I was alive. I had survived.
I rolled over, and a bizarre display above me came into focus. The giant student who had just vomited me up had a black eye and an agonizing grimace on his face. He was gripping his stomach tightly with both arms, as if he had been punched in the gut. He probably had, since he had thrown me up after all. Standing above him, with clenched fists, was my hero, Mr. Henderson. The circumstances surrounding the incident became clear. Mr. Henderson must have shown up right after I had been ingested, seen the student crouched over the human dorm with the roof open, and recognized his visage from my description yesterday. Realizing what had happened, he beat the kid up, delivering a mighty blow to his torso to save my life.
As soon as Mr. Henderson saw me, he shoved the other giant out of the way, knocking him to the ground, and swooped over to me. He scooped me up in his hands without hesitation, even though I was covered in vomit, and brought me up close to his face to examine me.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” he uttered frantically, “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
No, I really wasn’t alright. I was still in shock. My mind was blocking out my thoughts, preventing me from thinking about the full depths of the horrific thing that had just happened to me. Unable to really process anything, I checked my limbs and body for any physical damage. “I-I’m not injured,” I stammered out.
“Okay, good,” Mr. Henderson sighed in relief. “I’ll be right back; I need to take care of this monster here first. Get yourself cleaned up, and don’t worry about going to class today.” He gently placed me inside the human dorm, along with some plastic bags full of stuff he had brought for me, and closed the roof lid on top so I would be safe and hidden. I watched through the window as he roughly seized the giant student by the shirt and dragged him off, ignoring his vociferous protests. I got some satisfaction seeing the giant bully get his comeuppance. Also, I was relieved to have Mr. Henderson on my side to protect me from danger.
I urgently needed to get clean. I hadn’t been marinating in the giant’s stomach long enough to get serious acid burns, but I was still soaked in repulsive digestive juices. I stripped off my clothes and took a cold shower to soothe my hot skin, thoroughly washing off all the grime. I hoped this debasing ritual would not become a regular thing at this school. After all, Mr. Henderson told me that giants wanting to eat humans was rare. I hoped he was right. I never wanted to have to endure that hellish experience again.
I got out, dried off, and dressed again in some fresh, simple clothes. I went over to see what was in the plastic bags the vice principal had brought over for me. All my new textbooks were in one bag. The other bag, I was surprised to see, was filled with human-sized snacks and groceries for me to stash in the dorm so I had something to eat. Unfortunately, in the chaos from earlier, some of the packages had been dropped and smashed, rendering the contents inedible. I didn’t have much of an appetite after being eaten myself. Nonetheless, I still appreciated the thoughtful gesture. I salvaged what was still usable and retreated to the bedroom.
The furniture throughout the dorm had been flipped over and thrown around, leaving the place in total disarray. I navigated through the disorderly mess and set up a bed to lay down in. Getting back into bed just seemed to be the logical course of action, so I did. I pulled the covers up to my chin and gazed at the walls and windows around me, as well as the furniture so carelessly strewn about. Every once in a while the building shook as giants ambled past, vibrating the air with their reverberating voices. At any time, any one of them could pull open the roof and grab me. I felt very small and defenseless. I huddled up into a compact ball.
The shock was starting to wear off, and the true horror of what I had gone through was seeping into my brain. I tried to force it back, tried to push it away and ignore it, but the vivid memories rushed in with renewed vigor. I saw teeth and red flesh and darkness, could almost feel the slimy hot wetness engulfing me in a crushing embrace again. My chest tightened painfully and I strained to breathe. A delayed panic attack slammed into me like a semi-truck. I compressed myself into a fetal position, crying and shaking. I tried to convince myself I was safe and secure, no harm had befallen me, everything was fine, but my terror-stricken mind wouldn’t listen to reason. I was beyond saving.
I’m not sure how long I stayed in this state, but after a while I finally started to calm down. I decided I was done with this place. I couldn’t take being here anymore, being around gargantuan people hundreds of times my size that could do whatever they wanted to me. The whole situation was ridiculous. I was ridiculous. How could anyone believe giants and humans could live together in harmony? The very concept was ludicrous. The cold reality was that humans were inferior, and nobody could deny the truth.
I thought about Mr. Henderson. He had been so kind to me, and gone out of his way to help me. He was an optimist, an idealist, with good intentions and high hopes. I felt remorse thinking that I would be letting him down by giving up. I had already been a disappointment to my parents and everyone else in my life. On the other hand, the obstacles before me felt insurmountable. I felt like I was trying to climb a steep cliff with one hand tied behind my back, or slay a dragon with nothing but a butter knife. I would just have to suck up my regret and tell him I was dropping out. Simple as that.
As if my thoughts had summoned him, I heard giant footsteps approaching. This time, I could see the vice principal's black shoes from the window, so I knew it was him. Even so, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of fear that wasn’t entirely irrational. In spite of myself, I remained motionless on the bed, curled up under the blanket, too scared to move.
“Eren?” the giant called, squatting down to the level of the building. When I didn’t respond, he repeated, “Eren? Are you in there?” After a long pause, I heard the loud click of the roof as he peeled it open. I squeaked and ducked my head under the blanket so I was concealed. I realized how stupid I was being, but I was too frightened to care.
“Oh, Eren,” he lamented upon witnessing the disaster inside. “I’m so, so sorry.” I heard scraping and clattering as he started fixing the furniture. I peeked out from under the blanket. He had a saddened look on his face that broke my heart. It wasn’t right for me to be scared of him. I pulled back the bedsheets and sat up.
“Mr. Henderson,” I spoke up in a tremulous voice, “I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.”
He looked over at me, with softness in his warm coffee eyes. “I understand.” He reached his hand forward towards me, wanting to comfort me, but then brought it back with a conflicted frown when he saw my wild, terrified eyes. He could plainly see I was still afraid of giants, and didn’t want to scare me more.
“I’ll call your mother and have her drive out to get you,” he said gently. “Just… stay here for the day. With all the paperwork required, we probably won’t be able to release you until tomorrow.” I nodded in confirmation. I didn’t like the idea of staying for another day, but I would have to manage. The giant hastily added, “You don’t have to worry about that other student coming back. He’s been kicked out. Obviously, eating another student is an expellable offense.” I would have found his statement comical if not for the fact that I was the student who had been eaten.
Mr. Henderson gazed down at me sadly. For a long moment we sat together without speaking, before the giant vocalized, “I should have known integration would be a mistake. I never meant to hurt anyone, least of all you.”
He turned away with regret, replacing the roof before plodding off. My face fell. I wondered, briefly, if I was making the right decision. Of course I was. I couldn’t make myself suffer through another life-threatening event. Pushing my thoughts aside, I went to the dorm kitchen to eat some of the food Mr. Henderson had given me. Now I just had to wait until I could get the heck out of here.
Next chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/voraciousvore/731603488760643584/boarding-school-for-giants-725?source=share
First chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/voraciousvore/731600430392639488/boarding-school-for-giants-125?source=share
#g/t#giant/tiny#g/t vore#soft vore#giant#tiny#g/t writing#v.ore#v0re#v0r3#vo.re#size difference#boarding school for giants
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