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lombax-lombardi · 8 months

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Will You Love Me When.....~

She asks the Question....

Genre: Fluff

Self Insert Writing

Ships: Multiple

Note: Hello I'm sorry I haven't been posting life's been kicking my ass, have this!

Will You Love Me When I am Old and Grey?

She ponders the question to the Master Thief, toothy grin wide plastering his face as he grabs her smaller hands in his, the rings upon their fingers shining in the sunlight. Banishing her negativity like the sun banishes the dark clouds.

“As long as the rain keeps falling my dear, I will continue to love you, haven’t I given you enough proof of that?” His brow raised, watching her face lift with pure elation with his reply. He made her heart light and free. There was never any boredom, nothing such a trifle. Every day, every morning the sun kissed the buildings across the land and she was off, on another adventure with her companion, the ever falling rain, one day will stop but will always return.

Dusk falls, palms pressed upon cold wood as she walks inside, tossing her jacket aside as the smoke fills the air, her eyes motioned to the wiry man lounging on the lounge, cigarette in his maw, his eyes burning holes into her back.

She takes a seat next to him, fingers stalking over to the empty hand beside her, filling in the empty gaps like it was meant to be. She didn’t need to tell her feelings to the man beside her, strangely he’s in tune with hers. Perhaps it was due to telepathy. That made her special, her magic. But it was the people around her that made her extra special.

“What’s on your mind?” The deep britone of his voice filled her ears, bringing her mind back from her cloudy daydreams, as the setting sun’s ray peaked through the grey curtains. She turned her head to face him, catching his eyes underneath those fluffy bangs that hide them normally. “Will you love me when I’m old and grey?” He gave a slight chuckle, the gunman taking a sip from his drink beside him giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah that’s not hard, won’t be that bad either. We’re both getting a bit grey, doll. Don’t fret about it.” Madilyn rested her head on his shoulder, with a laugh and a reply along the lines of are you getting sentimental old man? He grumbled, glaring at the door when the Thief returned, the wiry man rushing over to give the Princess a kiss, the Gunman yelling very loudly over it.

The two of them started arguing, Madilyn slithered out from their grasp with breathy laughter, the two grown men realising that their prize had wiggled free from them. The Thief wailed and cried in his dramatic way, whining about his Princess not wanting to spend time with him, the Gunman just started chuckling, cigarette between his teeth.

The sun was beginning to fully set, she waved them off as she stated she will be back later.

The Gunman sternly told her that he should go with her if she was leaving by herself, but the Princess stated she would be fine, opening her coat to show off the new shiny firearm she had just in case, had to blend in, you know. Magic was great but a low profile was better, Jigen gave a small nod as he watched her shiny self run off into the darkness, leaning against the doorway.

Oh how beautiful she was.

Madilyn was walking the well lit streets, hands in her coat pockets as she felt a familiar energy nearby, not too close but not too far either. She knew that energy, so Lupin and Jigen couldn’t let her be a big girl and walk by herself? They had to send Goemon?

She laughed.

It was in the bustle of the street, closing hours and all when she bumped into a familiar Inspector, her eyes lit up and he was flustered. The Inspector, the Paladin, bore bright red cheeks upon his face and asked the question if Lupin was in the area. He would not leave such a lady on her own, Madilyn shook her head walking alongside him as they chatted. Enemies Some Days they may be, Allies the next and the weird electricity between them is strong.

Zenigata felt strange about this woman, younger she may be then him but he noticed something special about her. The way she managed to keep the group calm, she always jumped in to save them, even save his own men at certain points. It was her kindness that was a very attractive quality.

“You’re not afraid of being on your own?” He asked, Madilyn tilted her head at him, a smile on her face. “No, I have people who help me. But Inspector I have a question for you….” Whatever this was between them, felt like a warm fire, for safety and comfort. She asked the same question she asked Lupin.

She asked Jigen.

“Will you love me when I’m old and grey?” He felt his heart thump loudly in his chest. She said it so casually, Magnolia had told him her sibling was very reserved, kinda shy. Every time he’s seen her she looks so happy, so free, yet wishes to have the things all romance dictates.

A home, a spouse, children etc etc.

Pulling his hat over his eyes to hide them from her, which was useless because she can read minds, feeling her arms snaking around his free arm as they continued walking. The gem around her neck glowed a subtle pink. Did she say she loved me? She’s in LOVE with me?? She heard his thoughts scrambled in his head, like tiny little versions of him controlling his thoughts and feelings, running around in that brain of his.

They walked for a long time as she heard his ramblings in his mind. She didn’t need a full answer from him quite yet as she released him from her grip, standing on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek and she took off, running off into the distance, leaving the poor man bewildered and confused, face flushed.

She didn’t give him a chance to answer but internally he knew that he would. “You’re not that old, I’m older than you! But to answer your question, yes I would.” As long as the fire still burns alive inside him. He would. He then realised she ran off on her own, will she be okay?!??!

He was left panicking as Madilyn found herself by a lake, leaning against the railing as a motorbike’s engine filled her ears. The dark cherry red bike pulled up alongside her, the auburn haired rider motions her towards the bike. “Get on Princess, moon’s rising”

Mounting the bike, wrapping her hands around the riders waist as the bike revved up and sped back onto the road. The wind in her auburn hair, Fujiko Mine felt a sense of pride that she was able to steal the Princess away for a time. To hear her laughter, to see her smile, that was the sad part about her being under rule of her Father’s side of the family.

The Lady Rogue wanted her to be free but she knew she couldn’t ask that of her, she knew the Princess’s heart lay with others, she could feel it through her back with how close she was to her. The bike leaned and turned the corners, slick and smooth as the ride was leading them back to the hideout.

Madilyn, over the roar of the engine and fear of the bugs shouted loudly “Fujiko! Will you still love me when I’m old and grey?” The bike sped up a little bit more as the open dirt road beckoned them, down the backroads past the peoples homes and fences, skirting up toward the place the gang is hiding away. Locking the bike in to stay put, the woman driver turned her head and gave her a smile.

“As long as you do the same~” Releasing her from her hold, the Lady Rogue speeds off into the night, the moon hanging high. Madilyn watched her go, releasing a bird back into the wild, turning her body. Her eyes went wide when she found the Thief waiting for her in the open door. The smirk he wore, hands in his pockets, eyes shining.

She approached, arms folded across her chest. “Did you really have to have Goemon follow me?”

“Maybe” He said in reply, reaching over to snake his arms around her waist.

“I can handle myself.”

“I know Princess I know. Just wanted you to be safe is all”

Safety, that was the first sign she knew she was happy. She felt safe with them. Even though they are criminals. She asked him the same question again, he gave the same answer.

Yes.

It will always be yes.

#maddi rambles #maddi writes #maddi writes self ship #self ship #self insert #OC: Madilyn Elisa Gingerline #ship: Smoking Guns Mulberry Fog #ship: treasuries and violet highlights #ship: Riding Free Among Lavender Fields #don't have a tag for Zeni yet BUT #here have this it's SHORT but I haven't posted in like a month feels like #ImOKAY just been unwell

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twst-drabbles · 3 years

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Yuuken 1

Summary: The battle is finally over. Yuuken collapses from exhaustion. Naturally, you carry him.

…What a nice memory.

(More eldritch AU. Were any of you expecting this boy to show up? No? Anyways, Yuuken Enma exists in the Eldritch AU, but only on the Prefect’s home planet. You two used to be pretty close fighting partners.)

You finally pinned this colossal coral monster down, piercing its empty head with your tendrils to the floor of this underwater cave. It slammed its four hands with too many fingers on the ground, unable to grab at you with its multiple joints so stiffened up with greedy and coarse green coral.

Its back tensed, the barnacle holes on its back flaring for only a moment before you flipped off, keeping your tendrils deep inside its head as wet black needles ripped through the air. They pierced the cave’s ceiling and couldn’t retract them back.

Perfect.

“You ready, Yuuken?!” You shouted, already adjusting your tendrils to splay out like a flower.

There was a grunt behind you, but no clattering. “Give the command!”

The this empty husk of a head as handles, you rip this mock of a human giant right down the middle, flecks of rocky flesh flying off, red and green but unable to stain anything. The rib bones within that split flared out, forming a toothy maw that wished to close with its other half. You wouldn’t let it, for within the confounds of its belly was a stone like mass with veins clinging to the split sides, beautifully smooth in contrast to the rest of its body. When it beats, it sounded like a gentle roll of glass on stone.

“Now!”

Yuuken rushed under your tendrils, the rib-teeth nicking his cheek, but drove his sword deep into the creature’s source of life. The coral creature went still, its heart gave another gentle beat before a stream of red sea glass leaked around the sword.

The creature fell to the ground, and Yuuken’s sword slid out.

You both looked at each other, taking in the other’s cuts and bruises before Yuuken broke out into a gentle smile of relief. You couldn’t help but return it, and he collapsed soon afterwards.

“We did it.” He simply stated as you approached his head, “We got the last of that’s monster’s spawns.”

You patted his cheek with one of your large tendrils, taking in the state of his legs. Yuuken Enma was a full fledged human, sanity and comprehension limited when compared to the mother that birthed this creature you just fought, with flesh and blood holding the same limitations. He didn’t have any broken bones, but the cuts and bruises on them were fierce. You crouched down and picked him up like a sack of potatoes. It was no trouble at all for you, despite his large and tall figure.

“Ah,” Yuuken tried to push himself off, “Do you always have to do this? I know I’m pretty heavy.”

“You just saw me rip this thing a new one and you think I’m bothered by your weight?” You smirked, even though he can see it. “Let me carry you. It comforts me.”

That and you can feel the way his rib cage expand and shrink as he breathes. Reminds you that he has survived another day. You could just leave him, just find a safe place for him to live a normal life, learning the traditional way of the sword, but one way or another, he’d find a way to reach you.

What are childhood friends for? He answered to you, when you got angry and screamed at him to explain why he always puts himself in danger, why he wants to fight battles that’ll inevitably destroy him.

He won’t let you fight these battles alone, so you won’t let him walk after every one. It’s only fair.

…

You accidently sniffed in dust and sneezed yourself awake.

“Uh…beh…shut uu…” Mumbled a sleeping Grim. He rolled on his side and sunk deeper into his sleep.

You sat up, rubbing the gunk out of your eyes. The room was still dark, the empty shadows shivering with the bare trees outside. It’s so strange to you, truly, that these shadows are simply shadows, and not gateways for curious eyes and hands. And that these trees live, die and stay dead rather than their corpses being repurposed as a breeding ground for ambitious and monstrous insects.

Dreams are even stranger to you. Back at home, your dreams were simply another place to talk with your parent, the nonhuman on, as they protect your mind from any potential intruder.

Now your head is a place for memories to play out, for strange images and stories to unfold.

Truly, this world is a strange place. Noisy, compared to home, the nights silent compared to the hum of hungry monsters you always felt within your body.

You wished Yuuken was here to witness this, to witness a strange, but peaceful world, where cities don’t have to be confined, where cultures bloom and magic is real, even if none of you can use it. You’re sure he would love it.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #eldritch au #yuuken #yuuken enma #other #ask #reader insert

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littlefreya · 4 years

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Prince Of Darkness

Summary: There'll be no escape tonight, the devil always gets what he desires.

Pairing: Devil!August Walker x Unnamed OFC (3rd person pov)

Word count: 6k

Warnings: 18+, DARK! NonCon, kidnapping, stalking, breeding, exhibitionism, loss of virginity, supernatural stuff, sex in a cathedral, mention of heaven and hell. Please proceed with caution.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

A/N: I have put a lot of effort into this story, and I’m really anxious af. We all like to see August as a demon, but I decided to go all the way... And I’m nervous at your response and going to die after hitting submit. So bye.

Many thanks to the love of my life @agniavateira, for support, brainstorm and beta. And to @crimsonrae and @wondersofdreaming who held my hand.

Please give feedback and reblog if you enjoyed my work. 🖤

Title: Prince of Darkness

Blood painted the streets, courtesy of the blinding scarlet lights that danced upon gravel and tar before dwindling into darkness. The soft, beaming glow pulsed with the muffled beats of a monotonous song that played inside the luxurious nightclub. Like thundering war drums, it rumbled in the ears of the elegant man who stood along the shadows.

Leaning against the cement, he took a sip from a glass of spiced Bordeaux and brushed an index finger over his thick moustache to wipe away misguided droplets of wine.

‘How could anyone enjoy this abomination?’ He wondered with a guttural groan, never quite grasping this electronic noise thing; but then again August was older than this music, and his tastes far exceeded cheap and trivial antics. He was a man driven by the appetite for destruction and forbidden delights, and tonight, he was finally about to obtain both. After decades of anticipation, the succulent fruit was ready to be plucked.

Oh, what an intoxicating and delicious mist his unsuspecting beloved emanated, setting his heart aflame with her sheer ripeness.

‘It’s been so long, so painfully long.’

Time had lost its meaning as he waited, curving and swerving into a stream of an infinite river flowing with decay and death.

But as the old saying went: all haste comes from the devil.

So the man lingered against the wall, a sparkle enkindled and crackled in his eyes, morphing into black wells whilst the waves of her honey-liqueured ambrosia grew pungent, seeping through his airways and sinking in his throat. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, revelling in the sound of harsh tapping heels that echoed louder with every step until she came summoned into the naked wilderness of the city street.

‘Beautiful and innocent as the garden of Eden. Of course, of course...’

The stranger scrutinised the young woman with another sip from his wine and a bite of great intrigue - but stoicism and silence, for now, were his most valuable allies.

Clad in a lithe black dress and a stylish leather jacket to keep herself warm from the chill autumn breeze, she fished for the mobile device in her purse while distress washed her wrinkling brow. Illuminated by the bright screen, her face sulked as for the seventh time in the last 30 minutes, her attempt to find an Uber bore no success whatsoever.

Was there something about tonight that all drivers were kept occupied, or had her luck simply run dry?

Showing her face to the moonlit sky, she sighed in great frustration. This must have been fate’s retribution to a mindless bad decision; she should have left with her friends, but staying alone to fruitlessly catch the eye of the uncaring bartender seemed more significant as the buzz of alcohol dimmed any ray of logic. Now deep into the night, walking home alone didn’t appear to be the most sympathetic solution, yet it occurred to her that there wasn’t much of choice.

“You seem distressed.”

Equal to a dark chant sputtering words of witchcraft, the low yet incredibly soft baritone of his voice slithered from the corner and crept down her spine with icy scales. A lurching hollow flared within her gut, her neck seized by the tight grip of a serpentine phantom.

His vibrato sounded like a voice that called her through a dream she never had before; despite the unsettling arctic spasm gyrating through her shaky limbs, it lured her to return a stare and meet the cryptic face behind the seducing chant.

Two sharp glaciers glimmered at her as the stranger sauntered into the penumbra, momentarily lit by another flash of neon red that broke onto his face and highlighted his ethereal features. Her lips drew open, her nipples hardening against the fabric of her dress as a shiver ran through her. To say that the stranger was handsome would be an understatement, as it almost seemed as if he was ‘designed’ by a sculptor - carved cheeks led a path to slightly pouted lips, and a stark, dimpled chin was shadowed by dark stubble. His chocolate-brown hair was elegantly combed to the side, with a couple of large lustrous locks gently nestling over his brow.

Though it wasn’t his good looks that left her riddled with prickly goosebumps, but the unprecedented magnetic haul that made her feel as if she was physically drawn toward this mysterious man.

Frightened by the unbidden reaction of her own body, she quickly retreated to gawk at the phone and provided no answer to his inquiry. A strange yearning to submit grew between her clenching thighs, a primal response to his striking looks and charms.

But she killed the seed before it set roots in her flesh.

‘They said Ted Bundy was charming as well…’ she mused. Frivolous as she wanted to be, getting murdered was undoubtedly not among her plans tonight.

Revelling in her silent reply with an arched brow, he tilted his head when a blinding flicker abruptly caught his keen eye. Kissed by the pale moonlight’s beam, a small silver cross rested upon her collarbone. His sharp fangs begged to peek with sardonic amusement, but he kept his lips clamped, not wishing to scare her too soon.

There was to be plenty of that later...

“May I offer you my help, sweetling?”

Threading his long fingers between the smooth stem and clasping them around the bowl, he lowered the glass to the side of his hip, dragging the girl’s unwilling eye to the healthy bulge in his groin.

Her lips drew open as a surge of staggering heat flushed at her apex.

It seemed enormous...

“Name’s August, like the emperor, but you can call me whatever your heart desires...”

Embers burnt at her cheeks; in her belly, the odd mystical calling continued weaving at her core in an urge to accept whatever it was he had to offer. Her eyes warred to tear her gaze away from his nether region as her lashes fluttered to meet the abysmal glance that bestowed both frost and fire through her tendons.

There was something archaically familiar about this man as if she knew him before the days had names. Yet she swore, it was the first time she ever saw his striking face.

“I can take you wherever you need to go.”

Breath laced with wine titillated her nostrils as the words spilt from his lips, whilst another crimson ray broke upon the marble of his face. Never had he urged, but instead suggested with a tongue soaked with honey. Still, a blazing aura of danger encircled him. And even though the very natural fear of walking home alone grappled her, it still seemed like a much better plan than entrusting her life to a stranger who was twice her size.

Deciding to keep her tongue knotted, she turned and began striding away. ‘Best not to engage him,’ she thought, but once she moved past his bulky figure, her heart suddenly picked up its pace and her legs refused to function as if they no longer belonged to her.

Seconds stretched into eternity. The thought that this civilised savage will assail her and drag her into the night scratched at the back of her head. But the worst of it was the simmering throb. Unforgiving, like gathering storm clouds, it thundered the closer she walked by him and then gradually died out as she finally managed to move away and free herself from this invisible bond.

Savouring the final drop of wine, August watched amused as the frightened little lamb quickly oscillated on her feet, scampering into the horrors offered by the dark. It was funny how fear made animals act so heedlessly and rush straight into the burning heart of peril.

A toothy grin peaked his chiselled cheeks. Always the gentleman, he shifted from the concrete, discarding the glass carelessly to shatter on the sidewalk. His sinew stretched in a relaxed ripple of an apex predator before he straightened both vest and jacket and stroked his thick moustache.

Though her heavenly fragrance still soaked the air, the girl was already gone from normal eyesight. It was a pity to see her leave, yet there was no need for him to rush.

There was never really a choice for her.

Strangely, the night kept growing unnaturally darker. A great ocean of blackness and crystalised stars spread from above, casting looming shadows across the tall buildings that resembled a maw filled with rotten teeth. The tepid wind that blew between the vast concrete monoliths was nothing but the breath of a mythical beast intoning her name through the shadows.

Clawing at her forearms, she meandered through the inert street with a wary eye. Desolate neon signs flickered hauntingly, bequeathing a vibrant beacon of dread over the shimmering, onyx road. Not a living soul was in sight as if the world descended into stillness, dominated by an eerie, dead silence save for the harsh echo of her hasty heels. And yet, the long path felt anything but lifeless. With every step landed on the ground, she could sense the movement beneath the surface: swarming vile things, slippery and scaled. Unseen by the human eye, they hissed dirty little secrets and slithered with sinister hunger, drizzling down their fangs.

‘You can already feel me inside you, can’t you sweetling…’ Remaining hidden, he had to admit that watching the little lamb leap shivering into the slaughter has been somewhat of foreplay.

A veil of fumes emitted from her parted lips. The air became colder, summoning a terrifying truth that made her lungs clench around the black void that abruptly filled them with the notion that maybe... maybe… that chill, liquid-like thing that threatened to touch her ankle wasn’t just in her crazy imagination.

There was something out there, something undeniably familiar. This unusual gust of wind brushing at her nape has accompanied her since she could remember herself, an unsettling breeze bidding that evil lurked between the creases, holding its sinewy fingers clasped together while waiting for her to answer his hushed calling.

‘And once you finally answer, there is no turning back…’

Fear gnawed its frosty fangs at her bones, puncturing tiny painful cavities that were needles in her flesh. Tonight, of all nights, the same hazy feeling became stronger than ever before. Deep inside, she knew she would meet her end. Pressing the oily pads of her fingers at the sharp corners of her pendant, she inhaled and chanted a prayer, refusing to succumb to the noxious malice when a frozen pin pierced her heart.

Like the lark calling on the dawn, an unbidden chant carried her name.

Drenched with frigid sweat, she exhumed a shuddering breath, praying to God that it was only her imagination playing tricks on her ears.

‘The greatest trick he ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.’

Indeed in the darkness, leered the beast. All teeth and malicious glee, August moved from one shadow to another, feasting on the aphrodisiac that was the mixture of her harrowing terror and unveiled desire. If only she knew the trail her scent left for him to follow - he could smell her from miles away.

The little flower between her legs began blooming the moment their entities finally encountered one another, and it was his ancient name her dew had dripped for.

‘My sweet little thing, tonight I will finally grant you a purpose...’

Like a hound awakened from a deep slumber, he flexed his bulging muscles and tailed her in utter silence. The same spell that burnt in her core seethed the blood gathering in his ardent loins. Since the dawn of humankind, he had more women than any other man on this earth, yet none has evoked such hunger in him.

He would have eaten her alive and torn her to shreds if only he didn't have bigger plans for her.

Still hidden by the unnatural night, August stalked from behind, the blaze of his enkindling burn licking her path as he crept further to ensnare his prey. He wished she could see herself through his own flaring glance, how beautiful she was with tears of despair rolling down the tender slope of her cheeks.

His beloved girl; his, by ancient law. Spirited as a rageful tempest, she insisted on escaping her prophesied fate. Muscles and bones strove against the panic that turned her boiling blood frigid. But no power, physical nor divine could revoke this otherworldly attraction that bound her to him. His bidding could never be undone and as much as his blood relished from the thrill of the chase, it was time to put an end to this dance and seal their union.

Appearing from a stygian haze of a spectral nightmare, the beast drew his claw to grasp the fleeting girl’s shoulder.

The world froze along with the scream that died in her throat. Cold, slippery wet, the phantom serpents slinked around her ankles and held on to the ground as the thing behind her bit his nails into her collarbone. His touch was no ghost, but as real as the quiet moon that voyeured her fate from above and did nothing. A wretched gasp of anguish shuddered through her airways as his fingers stalked forth to cinch at her neck.

His grip was tighter than the icy finger of death, yet its caress was the sensual lick of a gossamer tongue.

It was almost as if he worshipped her.

Shadows befell her as the assailant leaned close, wafting a mist of intoxicating fumes scented of poisonous elixirs and an ancient forest that laid deep between the veils of the underworld, hiding forbidden mysteries that none dared speak of. Seeping through her orifices, it stung her eyes and raked remorseful tears.

“Please…” she broke into sobs, shaking her head at the dawning of her fate.

The man inhaled deeply. Though she could not see him, the joyful malice that danced on his pleased breath roared in her ears.

“Do not fear me.” The sonorous rumble caressing her ear was hardly a surprise in its familiarity. It was him, the handsome bewhiskered gentleman from earlier. But of course, it was always him: the whisper in the dark, the slithering things moving beneath the tepid ground, and the smell of burning pyres.

But who the hell was he?!

As if he read her mind, his hand twisted around her nape and with a careful sway, turned her to face him. The voice inside her head warned her over and over again not to look at him; yet the temptation was too great, peeling her eyes open to stare at the thing that made her heart drop to her gut.

Vast, raven wings spread from each side of an Adonis figure, their intimidating length denying her widened eyes to look at anything but the dark god that soared tall in front her. No, not a god, a devil. A pair of small golden horns peeked from the mane of long curls, and the heavenly icy gaze she remembered from earlier had melted into an abysmal lake of fire.

He was beautiful.

He was monstrous.

And just like that, she descended from the earth, swept into a thick swamp of darkness that swallowed her whole. Never letting so much as her feet kiss the ground, August scooped her into his strong arms. Peering down upon her, he broke into a delightful grin, already enamoured with his delicate new bride. The pang of lust tingled in his groin, though despite the raging need to claim her now, it was her screams he desired more than all as he would consummate their eternal marriage.

Wicked tongues of fire licked up the shallow air, casting a faint amber glow into the abominable sombre of a vanishing nightmare. Shy as feral nymphs, the bursting sparks ascended melancholily, whispering tales of perishing days that fell to harmony with a strange mumbling chant. Still locked in a void of unconsciousness, the fallen girl shifted with disquiet, her hands restlessly clutching at a virginal silk gown that covered her body.

Vaguely remembering a horrifying dream of a demonic entity, she woke with a sudden electric jitter. A peal of breathless pants pushed through her heaving chest before she slumped into the intense relief one experiences from a brush with either death or a ghastly fantasy.

“Thank God…” she whispered with a fist pressed to her breast.

Yet, something was amiss. The low vocal melody continued despite her state of clarity, tangled with the eerie presence of a hundred cutting glares that stabbed her crawling spine. Slowly and carefully, she lifted her head and scanned her surroundings.

The blood drained from her face.

Swaying like shadowy wraiths stood men cloaked in black velvet hoods. Tears of milky boiling wax trickled from the candles held by their stringy fingers, yet they didn’t seem to flinch as the burning rivulets seared their flesh. Their hollow eyes were fixated upon her while words of a dark sacrament sputtered from their lips and reverberated through the endless archways and ribbed vaults that towered above them.

Her trembling muscles were briskly stifled under the unsettling realisation of her whereabouts - a cathedral, a thousand years old if not more. Burning torches lit crumbling pillars and statues of monstrous winged creatures that encircled them from every niche, their malicious shadows dancing upon dusty obsidian bricks. Unglazed windows were barred by black iron, the beautiful floral shapes preventing any means of escape.

Only the fractured ceiling held a cheap shred of hope, as a vast rupture of broken stone exposed her to the scarred carmine wolf-moon.

If only she had wings…

Bones rattling beneath her crawling flesh, she sat upon the hard surface with wells of despair. Her hands clutched around the edge of the bed, only to be kissed by the sharp corners that pierced the delicate flesh. Hissing with pain, she lifted her arms and stared below at what appeared to be a midnight-black marble creased with golden veins and saplings-like patterns.

It was beautiful, just like the creamy gown that covered her body.

“Do you like it, bride?”

Rising from the crowd like a flame among charred coals, appeared her handsome abductor. Suitable to a true evil prince, a long red cloak enrobed his broad, sturdy form, the velvet hem trailing behind him like a thick river of blood while he marched forward with no haste in his dauntless mien. Human once again, August offered the most endearing grin; two profound dimples embellished his scruffy cheeks, and his eyes shone brighter than a frozen sea.

Yet in her sullen gaze, he was nothing but a monster.

Abruptly enraged and driven by pure instinct, she jumped off the marble and paced backwards. Tears of anger and fright rimmed her swollen lids and her bare feet nearly collided as she shook her head at August who was neither impressed nor concerned by this foolish protest.

“You stay the fuck away from me!!!” She warned with a scream and hastily turned away.

Lost in some trance, the praying mob never stirred, granting the girl a fair chance to escape the bewhiskered man who was still several strides away. Her feeble legs made three to four steps when her muscles swiftly turned to stone, and her stomach lurched.

‘No! It couldn’t be! How?!’

Curls shining like precious coils of onyx, August emerged in front of her, continuing his relaxed gait as if this was a natural occurrence. His bright icicles melted into malicious dark pools of twisted desire, and his tongue briefly laved his plump lips at the sight of pure disbelief that cascaded over her face. He could feel right under her skin, hear the thrumming heart that both chilled and fumed for him. Further beyond her thoughts, his betrothed yearned to be defiled and torn open by him.

It was her destiny, whether she liked it or not.

Still she fought, so ferocious and defiant, flinching away from his attempts to seize her. It was almost comical to watch her deny him, knowing that her fate would be no different; she will spread her legs and submit to his conquest. And yet, her battle was immensely appealing; what better bride to the dark lord than a woman who breathed fire.

“Who are you?!” She cried, her trembling voice rising with panic and her cheeks soaking with tears, “What do you want from me?!”

August's face was devoid of mercy, her whimpering hisses did nothing to deter him and only further increased the appetite of the deprived wolf that circled in his gut. With a wring of his wrist, his fingers snapped at her elbow, hauling her against his rock-hard chest with such might her heels hovered above the ground.

Writhing in his grip she flung her hands at his face, clawing streams of crimson to trickle down his cheeks. The notion of hurting this vicious man brought somewhat of a sick joy; but her onslaught died at once, and her mouth fell agape as his skin healed with not even a trace of injury.

“Oh God, what are you?!” She shuddered.

Still holding her elbow hostage, his free hand travelled to the hem of the white gown, the long, perverted fingers twisting around the fabric before yanking it off at once. A resounding rip echoed through the tall arches, causing the chanting choir to halt their susurrations at once.

All eyes were afloat as the cold air kissed her skin. In vain, she attempted to cover herself only to be felled by the restraints of August’s grasp.

“God?...” The man finally spoke, his melodic voice ending with a sonorous hum that sprouted through her arteries like a deadly toxin. Not less poisonous, his gaze trailed down her form, worshipping the very sights of his delightful prize.

“Not God, but once I was an angel,” he suggested and leaned down to inhale her skin with a gratified growl before he flicked his wide tongue at her chest.

A groan of approval emitted from his lips, the sheer coat of sweat that layered her bosom was soaked of freshly brewed fear, his most favourite savour. His wet, velvety snake swept the sweet-briny wetness and licked further down her breasts, twirling around the erect nipple.

Unintended, she moaned. A river of delights rushed between her grinding thighs.

“No!”

Wrongful, unwanted bliss awoke in her. She felt desecrated and allured at once. Her fickle body deceived, mistaking this vile conquest as consensual. And the more August took, the more she desired; her dutiful womb demanded to consummate this bond, almost as if the beast had bewitched her a long while ago, embedding his essence in the marrow of her bones.

August grinned against her skin, the scent of her arousal fresh in his nose while his lips travelled to kiss down her sternum and the slope of her torso. His thick whiskers left a trail of fluttering butterflies.

“Have sympathy, my love. I had built my own realm and waited in the forlorn abyss. Empires fell and worlds disintegrated into ashes while I waited for thou,” he explained and clutched the cheek of her behind in his claw, squeezing it possessively. “I have longed for your touch since the day your ancestor promised you to me, little lamb. A hundred years’ worth of waiting for the bargain to reach its end, and for you to finally be ripe.”

The beast pressed one last languid kiss below her navel, a guttural hum exuded in between his lips, huffing hot against her belly. Slowly he rose to his full height, towering above his helpless victim who hugged her arms to cover her naked body and watched her nightmare unfold once more. Cold wind chilled her damp cheeks as August flung the blood-red cloak and exposed his naked figure before her.

He was massive, a masculine build fit for a warrior angel, covered with thick bulging muscles and dark hair. Lips parted, she forgot herself, gawking in awe and allowing her gaze to trail down to his unapologetically monstrous cock. Firm and throbbing, it dripped with hunger, urging to find release inside her clenching cavern.

She didn’t even know a man could be this vast, but alas, he was no man at all.

It was at that moment when blackest wings spread before her that realisation finally struck through like a blunt hammer to the back of her head. Covering her mouth she cowered away, her exposed back hitting the raised altar behind her.

August was no man nor god, but Lucifer himself.

Seeing the hope die in her eyes, the devil sneered.

“No, no, no! This can’t be real! This isn’t real!!!” She yelled, pathetic little hiccups sputtering from her lips.

August tilted his head, giving a scornful pout and scoffed with amusement. “Am I not?” He asked as he lifted an arm to flick his fingers, summoning two of the hooded servants to approach the dais. Their eyes were soulless gems embedded to a grey face that was cracked like a broken eggshell.

“I am real, beloved, as real as the child you will conceive me tonight.”

Shrills of terror flew through the great hole in the ceiling. Kicking and screaming, she fought as the men seized her arms and dragged her to the altar, forcing her flat down and holding her arms to prevent her from escaping. They never blinked at the ferocious war she waged against them, though an impish smile slowly possessed their faces as their master strode forward.

“Sweet little lamb,” August chanted, enamoured with his fiery bride while he sauntered by the edge of the altar. His Adonis body golden in the candlelight, his fingers squeezed and pumped the ravenous demon that hung heavy between his legs. The twinge in her womb rose in response, a low roar thrumming as it yearned to succumb to its unbridled purpose. Sheen, the arousal trickled between her kicking legs and onto the smooth stone, making her cheek flame.

Much to August’s pleasure.

“Our son will burn this world to cinders,” he promised and snaked his fingers at her ankles. Calmly deflecting her attempts to kick against him, he dragged her toward him until her knees folded over the edge and spread between his thighs. The platform was in the perfect height, positioning her delicious Eden at the height of his blessed demon.

“You will make an excellent mother.”

Her entire body shook, her cunt clenching along her sobs in both defence and beguiling need as August leaned in and grazed the silky pink crown between her wet petals. She begged he wouldn’t be able to invade her, but her prayers fell to deaf ears.

“Please don’t do this to me! I will do anything… please!” She wailed a bargain, still trying to escape the servants’ grip and looking at him pleadingly, “I… I...haven’t been with a man!”

“Oh I know…” August beamed and stroked himself back and forth between her engorged lips. Vamping flames tingled at her flesh, her core foolishly squeezing around nothing in demand for this wretched monster to defile her.

“You’ve kept yourself for me, didn't you? I have waited for you too, for centuries even, but now our waiting has ended, and I can finally love you.”

With one brutal thrust, he breached through the gates of her sacred haven, corrupting her purity and ripping her open with the elegance of a savage.

Exasperated bats fluttered their wings over the red moon at the sound of her pained howl. Eyes flared to the bleak sky above; the girl watched them in a daze, disbelieving the blazing demon that scorched her from inside as he nestled himself between her resisting gates with no intention to cease.

In his villainy, August pushed further. Stunned thunders of ecstasy erupted from his lips, all to humiliate her along with the dark minions who circled the altar to pervertedly witness this sacrilegious ritual in which their master ravaged the unwilling maiden. Ignoring her body’s vehement protest, he forced himself unfathomably deep, only stopping until the head of his cock kissed the gateway of her cervix.

Crystalised tears rolled down her temples and stained the cold marble beneath her body. Slit impossibly sore, she twitched and sobbed at the overwhelming feeling of being invaded by another entity. Her once protected realm was now under the domain of a ruthless prince, and he took no prisoners and granted no mercy nor care at her vain endeavours to push him out.

He would never stop. He would have her again and again until her sacred little womb would be plentiful with his seed.

“Tight,” he blurted out in a blissful huff and reached his talons to bite into her quaking thighs. Spreading her wider, he hooked his hands below her knees, moulding her into a vessel to be fulfilled. Arctic orbs glazed down her naked figure, his plump lips cooing at her aching whimpers. The taut and hairy muscles of his gut flexed as he carefully withdrew his vicious cock, coated in the crimson sorrow of her maidenhood.

Hollow pain throbbed in her empty cunt as he suddenly abandoned her. Distressed and overwhelmed, she hoped he would stay out, yet her traitorous body coveted his return in a false faith that it would ease the fervid twinge that soared to her belly and even burnt in her breasts.

It was far from true.

No less vigorous than before, August plunged back inside her, stretching her again, shaping her as his own as she yipped and struggled to escape. His head threw back with a roar of divine pleasure, feasting at the thrill of her dauntless veils wrapping around him like a succulent flower. For a moment there, he wondered who preyed on who. Her concupiscent little cove sucked him so wantonly it threatened to swallow his raging cock.

‘But of course, every virgin is destined to become my whore.’

Hot and heavy, his shaft seized the void that had always been inside her, their heaving organs collided in euphoric bliss like two broken shards that were lost for decades and finally pieced back together. And even though she seared with every jerk or shift he made, the impassioned flames licked at the seams of her twitching cunt in waves of ache and foreign desperation.

“No…” she whispered, shame singeing her throat as the little pesky sparks enkindled where the devil had violated her. Vision blurry, she gazed at him utterly mystified. Part of her warred to stoke the fire that screamed heresy, while the other begged to yield to her demise.

As August pulled away again and thrust harder, a breathless moan tore from her lips.

A cutting grin radiated onto his face. “It feels so good inside you,” he sang and slid one hand to stroke all the way down from her sweat-ridden thighs to her belly, feeling the movement of his cock with every push and shove.

He was taunting her, yet she couldn’t care less. Over the cinders of pain and virtue, a garden began to bloom. With every abysmal stroke of his swelling shaft, she could feel green saplings and coy vines growing within her uterus—soft, beautiful tendrils stalked through her arteries, sprouted through her cove, and engulfed his swelling demon as well.

She was no longer burning but becoming alive. Pained cries suddenly evolved into asphyxiation of bliss. Beyond her realisation, she undulated her hips in the desire to endure each of his wet claiming thrusts. Her spine coiled against the surface, further allowing him easier passage to nourish the wilderness that continued spreading through her blood.

Noticing the change in her, approving groans rumbled in his throat; his little bride was growing tighter around his demon, her quivering lips and fluttering lashes the image of true Elysium. It was not long before he would plant his seed in her fertile lush. Her cunt milked and suckled around him, demanding to be bred by the devil.

“Yes, my love! Give in to me! Give in to your primal sin!” August urged, enhancing the rhythm until he was thrusting into her like a battering ram, the sinful elixir of their union smearing on his groin and dripping down her rump. “Descend with me!”

In her delirium she witnessed magical nightshades and sinewy stalks growing amidst the gritty bricks, encompassing the ominous cathedral with bright colours.

It was paradise on earth, given to her by the unearthly rapturous joy of having this demon violate her, slamming harder with growing frustration until his thick girth ripped through the last threads of her self-preservation and that which she tried so hard to deny erupted through her clenching core.

Euphoria.

For a lingering moment, she had wings of her own, pale as precious pearls and lustrous stars. Tingling waves of ethereal white heat burst at her seams, purifying her as she flew above the cathedral, and watched their ungodly union from above. But her wings suddenly caught aflame and before she knew it, she crashed onto the earth with a secondary, more violent climax.

The beast’s roars erupted into a brutal thunder, causing the sturdy pillars of the cathedral to quake and crack like thin glass. With all his might, he clutched her thighs and hauled her against him, slamming his swollen cock deep into her belly and releasing his smouldering, milky essence until it seeped from her sleek. August’s wings flew open as he found his own rapture, blazes following through and consuming the ancient hall.

This was no longer a hallucination.

This was Inferno.

Still radiating with orgasmic glow, she screamed horrified as everything around them vehemently burnt to coals. Even the soulless servants crumbled into dust, accepting their fate without so much of a yip. The fire raged and died within seconds, leaving nothing but broken pillars and ashen smoke.

Shortly, the tepid air of night caressed her naked skin as they remained alone in the ruins of what was once an ominous cathedral. Still buried in her viscera, August broke into a low, stretching groan of relief which made her immediately return her eyes to him. Shame rose bitter in her throat and new fresh rivulets trickled on her cheeks.

After all that he had done to her, she could see nothing in him but a beautiful monster.

“My beloved queen,” August keened to comfort her and moved his hand to tenderly stroke her lower belly.

A toothy smile broke upon his face, his eyes gleaming with surprise as he felt the life that had already begun growing in her angelic fortress. A son, strong and glorious as his father. For the first time in his long existence, the devil was truly elated and he vowed in that moment that he would give her much, and much more. But first, she needed to be cared for.

Her assaulted hole convulsed with pain as he pulled himself out, leaving a trail of creamy fluids to dribble at his departure. Sniffling and shaking, she watched him bemused, as he climbed onto the altar and moved to lie beside her. Though she no longer flinched as he touched her, what was the point of it anyway? He had already destroyed her and stolen her innocent soul.

“You make me so happy, my beloved queen,” August had murmured as he gripped her jaw and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss claimed her breath, pillaging whatever left of her chastity and wit until she absentmindedly kissed back, forgetting herself as his tongue bested her will.

When he broke away, the taste of spiced ruby wine and blood lingered in her mouth.

“An eternity awaits us,” the devil explained as he pecked her nose and her forehead lovingly, to which she shivered - out of fright or out of want, she couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

“You had made me the happiest, now give me the chance to grant the same favour, ask for anything you want in the world and it shall be yours,” he begged and wrapped her in the shelter of his strong arms to lie down with him on the smooth stone surface.

Absentmindedly, she welcomed the protection offered from his embrace and stared silently as flakes of cement broke from the remnants of the wall floated in the air around her before she opened her mouth.

“I wish for…”

Her whisper faded into the dark.

*Disclaimer: I do not own Mission Impossible or August Walker

Beautiful dividers by @firefly-graphics

#henry cavill #august walker #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker x ofc

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ezrisdax-archive · 3 years

Text

krantt

for #trilogyappreciationweek, with thanks to @wlwkiranerys and @rannochs for being my sound board.

The one where Wrex doesn’t adopt Tali (except he kinda does) also here on ao3

Everyone on the Normandy was young to Wrex. The thing about being a Krogan was that it gave you a different perspective on age. Excluding the Asari, all species burnt out bright and quick to him. But even Liara was just a kid to him, not even 200 yet.

From what he knew about Quarians however Tali was young to them too. He'd met a few Quarians on pilgrimages before; their version of the Rite of Passage from what he gathered. Except with less Thrasher maws.

Well there was one on the planet they'd gotten a distress beacon from. That probably counted.

But unlike the Rite of Passage you did it alone; not a krantt to rely on like Krogans had. Seemed lonely.

So Wrex may have decided somewhere after that mission to keep an eye on the young Quarian. She wasn't so bad. Understood all his grumbling about the Council and the bullshit they put his species through.

Though at least his species hadn't released an intelligent robot race onto the galaxy that now worshipped some old machine.

Still Tali was okay.

She just had to remain alive to be okay.

Wrex sighed as he watched her clean her shotgun. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, scratching lightly with his gloves.

"Where'd you learn how to fire that anyway?" He asked.

Tali jumped at his voice, the light in her helmet that indicated she was talking lit up when she yelped.

"Wrex! Don't sneak up on me!" Tali scolded but then her shoulders fell like she expected a scolding of her own.

Wrex merely stared.

"I..." Tali began, her nervousness coming through her tone even without facial expressions to go off on. "My father taught me. He's an Admiral." There was a touch of reverence and regret in her voice. "As his daughter I was expected to learn. Our ship could have been boarded by Geth at any moment."

Wrex hummed, loudly enough it echoed in the quiet cargo bay. Thankfully it was late enough most of the crew was asleep.

"Makes sense." He inclined his head a little in acknowledgement. "Guess the Quarians would have reason to know all that."

"We may not be the Krogan but we've seen our fair share of battles. You've seen me fight, I can handle myself." Tali practically bristled from where she sat, angry and petulant. Wrex wondered idly how many times she'd been forced to prove herself to others that it was this touchy a subject.

"Didn't say you couldn't. Could use a few tricks though."

Tali paused, caught off guard. "Oh? Like what?" If she was trying to aim for casual she failed. The curiosity shone through and her leg bounced like she could hardly contain herself.

Wrex huffed in amusement and then pulled out his own shotgun.

"Lemme show you." He said and aimed at Garrus' locker. The shot fired and he reloaded with ease, firing off another shot a second later.

Tali was up in an instant, "How did you reload so fast?" She asked in one breath, the words blending together.

Wrex chuckled, "Old trick I learned. Here, watch the wrist, keep an eye on my right finger."

"I'm not sure Garrus would like us using his locker for practice." Tali said even as she inched closer to do what he'd asked.

"Oh no an upset Turian. I'm real broken up about that." Wrex's voice was as dry as ever and Tali snorted in amusement. "Now come on, I don't got all night."

Tali stepped closer still and watched carefully as Wrex did the trick over again.

"Does anyone know what happened to my locker?" Garrus asked the next morning and Tali choked on her drink.

She'd procured straws from somewhere though Wrex wasn't sure where.

"No idea." Tali said a moment after, clearing her throat.

"Maybe someone got tired of elevator conversations." Wrex suggested, leaning back in his chair with a toothy grin.

"Point taken." Garrus grumbled, "You could have just said so. Now I'll have to spend the morning replacing my locker door."

"I'll help." Tali offered and she sounded guilty. She was fidgeting again in her seat, a telling trait.

Garrus stared at Wrex who just stared back, the grin still on his face.

“Fine. Thanks Tali. I suppose that’s about all I can ask for.” Garrus was still looking at Wrex.

He rolled his eyes. “Look Garrus, you want a favour come right out and ask it.”

Garrus made an indignant noise. “I don’t think it’s a favour if I’m asking for help to fix something you wrecked.”

“Allegedly.” Wrex said and shifted in his seat just a little so his shotgun was in view.

Garrus took the warning and fled, muttering about Krogan as he did.

“Is that how Krogan always end a conversation? Showing off a shotgun?” Tali asked.

“Nah, usually there’s more bloodshed.”

“And it’s not even noon.”

“Give it time.”

Tali was back in the cargo bay that night and while she’d set up one of the targets that was officially there for practicing she wasn’t firing at it but struggling with the reloading trick Wrex had been showing her.

“Any luck?”

Tali jumped at the sound of his voice again and turned to face him. “You know for someone so large you’re very light on your feet.”

“Large?” Wrex shot back, “Something you want to say to me, Quarian?”

“No.” Tali said quickly. “Um, just, you know. You are a Krogan and I haven’t met many but they are all large and-”

“Relax, kid.” Wrex cut off her rambling before it went on too long. “I knew what you meant.”

“Oh.” Tali sighed with relief and then her shoulders shot back up. “I’m not a kid you know.”

“Everyone’s a kid to me on here.” Wrex waved off her concern. “When you live as long as I have it happens.”

“Ah.” Tali said. “I suppose that would happen. I can’t imagine living for hundreds of years, you must be old to the Krogan though.”

“First I’m large, now I’m old?” Wrex snorted. “You sure know how to flatter someone.”

He couldn’t see it but he was willing to bet under his mask Tali was cringing.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep anyway?” Wrex asked.

Tali shifted on her feet, “I can’t. It’s too quiet. Quarian ships are rather full, here it’s…” She trailed off but the fact that nothing could be heard around them, not even the hum of the engines, told Wrex everything.

Suddenly the ship felt empty and, he was sure from Tali’s perspective, lonely.

Wrex sighed, the weight of responsibility falling on him.

“You know I’m not the oldest Krogan by a long shot.” Wrex finally said, sitting down on one of the crates next to them. “There’s this ancient guy, Drack. Comes from Clan Nakmor, they’re not as big as Clan Urdnot of course but there’s a lot of them. Somehow this guy survived the Krogan Rebellions.”

“Really?” Tali asked, taking the seat next to him and crossing her legs and setting her shotgun down next to her. “I didn’t think any Krogan had survived since then.”

“There’s a few still around, some of us are just hard to kill.”

“Like you?”

“Anything that can kill me deserves it. If it can get to me first.”

“But there’s so much of you to shoot.” Tali said and her voice was teasing.

“Is this how Quarian’s live as long as they do? By being so small nothing can hit them?” Wrex asked drily.

“Hey!”

“Course one lucky shot and you’re gone. Lacking redundant systems must suck. That guy, Drack, had most of his replaced. Pretty sure he’s only still alive because Kesh would kill him otherwise.” Wrex had met Kesh a few times, once thought of her as the runt of a litter like most had. Then she’d punched him in the face and stolen his equipment from his camp. That was the thing about underestimating people, they could always surprise you.

Wrex glanced over at Tali who was swaying a little where she sat, clearly tired.

“That and he had his krantt back in the Krogan rebellions.”

“What’s a krantt?” Tali asked and then yawned loud enough Wrex could hear her jaw crack even through the helmet.

“Hard to explain it to outsiders.” Wrex admitted, grumbling a little that he felt the need to even explain it. “They’re your allies, ones you can rely on even more than family. They’ll be there to watch your back, like in the Rite of Passage.”

His krantt had died when his father betrayed him and had them all murdered before him. Wrex got his revenge but the wound was still there.

“So like Shepard.” Tali said sleepily, her helmet knocked against Wrex’s shoulders. “And you and the squad.”

“Not the same.” Wrex replied, shifting a little and if that was more comfortable to Tali to rest against him that was no one’s business but his own. “Though maybe Shepard might count.”

Wrex was coming around to her.

“Guess the rest of you aren’t so bad for aliens.” He admitted begrudgingly after the silence dwelled on them for too long.

Tali was out however, a soft hiss from her filter filled the air every time she breathed out.

“Some of you could get better aim though.” Wrex continued on in the dark of the cargo bay, letting his voice take up the empty space. “Don’t know how you lived this long. Not that us Krogan can talk with the genophage running around. Nothing left on Tuchanka even worth saving…”

“Your ancestors wore that?” Tali asked in disbelief, staring at the armor Shepard had recovered for Wrex. He couldn’t see it but was willing to bet her face was scrunched up in disgust.

“I don’t think a Quarian is allowed to give me advice on a suit.” Wrex deadpanned, moving the armor to sit at his feet.

They’d had another session of training, Tali was really coming along with the reloading trick.

Then she’d asked him about the mission he went on that day with Shepard and Liara and he’d reluctantly pulled the armor out of the box he’d set it in.

“I think a Quarian is probably the best option for that.” Tali shot back. “We do spend our lives in them after all. It doesn’t hurt to make them look good.”

“Then what happened to yours?” Wrex asked and tried not to laugh as Tali turned her head at him in what was certainly a glare.

“I have a shotgun.” Tali warned him.

“Try that excuse on the Turian, not on me.” Wrex said and let out another booming laugh.

“You’re right,” Tali said, her voice too chipper to be real, “I’d never make it past all your layers with one shot.”

Wrex broke out in a loud laugh. “You’ve got quads, Quarian.”

“I have a name.” Tali said, all hints of laughter chased from her tone.

“Yeah yeah, not bad.” He paused and inclined his head. “Tali.”

The pleased smug smile she was wearing was obvious even if it couldn’t be seen.

“Too bad you still need to practice your shots.” He couldn’t help but add.

Tali huffed and grabbed her gun and without hesitation fired it at the training dummy. She flicked her wrist and reloaded with the shell she had in her hand already and fired again in only seconds.

Wrex watched with something that might have even been pride.

“What was that?” Tali asked, her voice a little high pitched as the noises continued around them like nothing they’d ever heard before.

Noveria was not a place Wrex had ever cared to visit and he doubted he’d have any better memories of it now.

“Probably debris.” He said, his eyes darting everywhere trying to find the cause of it. “Don’t have a panic attack, I’ll protect you.”

The swarmers came out from nowhere under their feet and Shepard cursed.

Wrex fired his shotgun though it might have been easier to just squish the bugs under his feet rather than fire at them.

“Keelah,” Tali swore as they encroached further towards her. She scrambled back and nearly fell but Wrex shot out an arm to grab and steady her.

“It’s not over yet.” Wrex yelled and fired off another shot as the swarmers came closer.

“I’m going to have nightmares from this.” Tali muttered, Wrex only just close enough to hear it.

“At least you’ll live through it to have them.” Wrex said and kicked a swarmer that came close. It went flying and splattered against the walls.

Next to him he heard Tali reload and fire her shotgun over and over again.

Tali was fiddling with something on her omnitool when Wrex arrived that week, this time when he called her name she didn’t jump but looked up and nodded her head at him.

“Wrex.” She said, “Sorry but I’m a little busy tonight.”

Wrex shrugged. “No skin off my back, this have something to do with the data Shepard got?” He nodded at the omnitool in Tali’s hand.

Ever since she and Kaidan had come back from a mission on geth intel she’d been invested in it. Hadn’t even come up to eat with the group.

“I’m planning on taking this back to the fleet to complete my pilgrimage – when this is all over of course.” Tali said, so fast Wrex could barely make it out. Her leg was bouncing in her excitement again. “This data could help us plan against the geth! I’m trying to get a headstart into deciphering it.”

“Not bad for an Admiral’s daughter, bet he’d be proud.” Unlike his father.

Wrex never was the conventional enough Krogan for him.

Because they’d spent so many months fighting side by side Wrex had gotten good at telling Tali’s body language even if he couldn’t see her face. So he could tell it’d fallen a little at that remark.

“I hope he is.” Tali said wistfully. “I was worried about going back to the fleet with nothing much to show.”

“And now you’ll show you helped stopped an invasion and picked up some random data along the way.” Wrex sat down next to her and groaned like it was an annoyance to him. He stretched out, his foot nudging Tali’s. “Bet other Quarians can’t say the same.”

“No.” Tali brightened, her back straightening. “They can’t.”

Wrex grunted and fell back. “Wake me up when you decide it’s time to do something practical like shoot at something though.”

“This is practical!” Tali said hotly, “You saw how far the Geth have advanced, with this data we could see if there’s a pattern to where they’re coming out of the Veil and-”

Wrex let Tali’s words wash over him and shut his eyes.

They lost Kaidan on Virmire and everyone was a little more withdrawn, a little angrier, and more than a little ready to end it.

“I’ve lost friends before,” Tali admitted that night. “But not like this.”

Wrex didn’t say anything. Keeping quiet even as Tali curled up at his side with the hiss of her filter staticky in her held back sobs filling the air.

Krantt weren’t supposed to die like that.

Good thing his fellow squad members weren’t krantt.

It helped him sleep that night for what little he did get.

He was never one for emotional goodbyes or just goodbyes period.

Which is why when Wrex left the Normandy he did it by only telling Shepard and leaving one thing behind.

Shotguns were nice and all but if he was about to try to sit in a room and make peace with a bunch of clan idiots then it wouldn’t do him any good.

Tali would put it to better use.

It took two years before he saw someone from the Normandy’s crew again but Shepard was standing right there on Tuchanka.

He clasped her arm and squeezed, trying to convey his relief at seeing Shepard again.

To Shepard’s right he heard a cough and looked over to see Tali.

“Good to see you too, Wrex.” Tali said and Wrex squinted at her. She looked roughly the same, maybe a little taller and bigger. Her suit had changed a little, looked fancier from what he could tell.

The shotgun at her hip was more than little familiar to him.

“Shepard got you caught up in her mess again, hunh?”

“Had to pick Tali up from a planet, she needed a little help.” Shepard said and grinned at the both of them.

“Always getting into trouble.” Wrex intoned.

“At least I’m getting out.” Tali said, crossing her arms. “You seemed to have gotten even bigger just sitting on your throne.”

The throne in question stung a little for Wrex. He hadn’t really wanted it, symbolically or literally. His brother put together the stones to shape that way more as a mockery and bitter anger he hadn’t gotten the title or respect Wrex had.

He grunted and Tali must have noticed she struck a nerve because she uncrossed her arms and fidgeted in the same way she used to back on the Normandy when she was feeling guilty.

Before she could say anything he slapped her on the back, making her yelp and almost stumble over her own feet. He placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her and Tali whipped her head to glare at him from under her helmet.

He laughed, unable to help himself. “Don’t be jealous just because I have somewhere to sit on my homeworld.”

Apparently two years weren’t long enough to stop him from remembering the old Normandy crew’s quirks because Wrex could tell she was rolling her eyes at him.

It seemed Tali had gotten tougher skin in the intervening years.

At least she was still standing.

“So,” Wrex said and dropped his arm away from Tali’s shoulder to take a seat back on his throne. “What brings you here?”

Shepard stepped forward and gestured at Grunt and Wrex leaned in to see what was wrong.

Word traveled fast and before Shepard had even made it off the battlegrounds Wrex had heard about the fallen Thresher maw.

Granting Grunt a title in Clan Urdnot was easier after that. Though Wrex would have been lying if he’d said he wouldn’t have given Shepard and Tali a title too if they asked.

Shepard wandered off, chasing after Grunt who had decided to challenge some Krogans standing near a pit, leaving Tali alone with him.

“So that was your Pilgrimage?” Tali asked, “I’m amazed any of you make it into adulthood.”

“Right,” Wrex said drily, “Nothing like sending our young out into the galaxy without a credit to their name and just hoping they make it back.”

Tali tilted her head, a silent acknowledgment.

“You taking care of that thing?” He nodded at the shotgun at her hip.

“Yes.” She paused. “Thank you, by the way. It would have been nicer to thank you in person however.”

Wrex shrugged. “I was getting rid of it anyway.”

“Uh hunh.” Tali said, her tone one of disbelief.

“Surprised you joined the whelp there in his Rite of Passage.” Wrex glanced over at Grunt and then back at Tali. “Doesn’t seem like your kind of deal.”

“Well.” Tali shifted on her feet, looking away. “I remembered something an old Krogan told me about krantts and the importance of them in the Rite.”

Wrex blinked in surprise.

“Hm.” He leaned back in the throne. “Not bad for a Quarian.”

“Tali, come on!” Shepard called out to her and Tali straightened up at her name.

“See you later, Wrex. Take care of yourself. Though I suppose that’s easier to do if you’re doing nothing but sitting.” Her tone was cheerful as she said it.

“Don’t forget who taught you those tricks of yours.” Wrex said, there was no real hint of warning in his voice- if anything it was jovial.

Tali nodded at him and walked off.

Wrex sunk into his chair, taking the next datapad he needed to look at about Clan Weyloc with him. It seemed like Tali wasn’t so young anymore.

Two years could make a lot of differences to species who didn’t live that long.

Wrex wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

“You heard from Tali?” Wrex asked Liara one day when they were sitting in the lounge. He’d pulled her away from those screens of hers, the tightness in her eyes worried him a little.

Everyone else was back on board except for Tali and Ashley but Ashley he at least had heard about. She’d recovered from her injuries and even had a Spectre status to her name. Tali though no one seemed to know anything about.

“Our last interaction was months ago.” Liara said. She dragged a hand over her face and Wrex pretended not to see the wetness on her fingers as she pulled it away. “I’ve heard very little from Quarian space. It seems they’ve just gone silent.”

His grasp around his cup tightened, the glass crinkling underneath his grip.

“I’m certain she’s fine however. I saw her when Shepard came to help me with the Shadow Broker. She was…broken up about her father still but didn’t let that interfere with the mission.”

“Her father?” Wrex asked, frowning.

“He died. Shepard says he woke up some of the Geth units that Tali had sent him. The Admiralty put her on trial for it.”

“Those idiots did what?” Wrex growled, slamming the glass on to the table. “Have they even met Tali? She’s the last person who would take chances with the geth.”

“That’s what Shepard said.” Liara replied, and when she looked up at him she was smiling. “I wouldn’t worry Wrex, Tali can take care of herself.”

“Who said anything about worry?” Wrex blustered but he knew Liara wasn’t buying it. “I just think there’s a whole lot of stupid in this world that needs to be taken care of.”

Liara hummed and let it slide, “From last I heard she’s working along with the Admiralty board.”

Wrex scoffed.

He understood it certainly, those were Tali’s people. She cared about them the same way he cared about the Krogan, probably more since she didn’t seem to hate half of them. Maybe the genophage hadn’t ravaged her people but the war with the Geth had. He was willing to bet she’d taken on more responsibility than was reasonable.

And no one was even with her to watch her back.

“So,” Liara tactfully changed the subject, “What will you do when the genophage is cured.”

Wrex grinned widely. “Finish kicking the Reaper’s ass for the rest of the galaxy.”

“How magnanimous of you.” Liara said, shaking her head but the smile she wore was genuine at least and the shadows in her eyes had receded however little it was.

“The Asari can thank us later.” Wrex took his drink back up and chugged it the rest of the way. There might have been some broken glass in there but it made little difference to him.

He put Tali out of mind for the time, he was sure they both had bigger issues to worry about.

Only Shepard could get a clone that would try to take over her life.

In all honesty, Wrex had missed the chaos.

And being with the crew.

Kaidan was still a notable absence, especially whenever Ashley was standing next to Shepard and would just lean over like she was about to say something to someone and then realized they were no longer there. Old habits died hard even years later it seemed.

No one mentioned it.

Shepard opted to take Ashley and Brooks to the casino with her, leaving the rest of them to the apartment. EDI and Liara took to monitoring the channel in case Shepard needed anything, Vega had taken over the tv, Garrus and Joker were shooting jokes back and forth at each other about Turians and humans, and Javik was just standing creepily in the corner.

Wrex still didn’t know what to make of the Prothean. Shepard found the weirdest people to call squadmates.

“So I heard there’s a cure for your people.” Tali said as she took a seat next to him. Her glass was filled with something alcoholic with a straw stuck in it so she could drink it.

“And I heard you made nice with the Geth.” Wrex said, taking a gulp of his own drink.

“Who’d have thought we’d be here now.” Tali raised her glass in a toast and then took a sip.

“Probably Shepard.” Wrex grumbled though it wasn’t really critical. “She always did keep talking about making a difference.” And apparently Wrex had listened. He wasn’t sure what was worse.

At least taking a risk with her had panned out.

“You should visit Rannoch,” Tali said, “The Geth didn’t do upkeep much on the buildings they weren’t inhabiting, it might even feel like Tuchanka to you. Except greener.” Tali sounded proud and Wrex caught the twitch in her leg. This time like she was stopping herself from bouncing as she talked excitedly about her homeworld. “It’s all so new. Can I even call it new? It is technically old to us. Old like you are- wait you must have seen what it looked like before…” She shifted, looking up at him.

“I didn’t go much in Quarian space.” Wrex admitted. “Never had a reason to. Didn’t think I’d be around Quarians much.”

He could hear the smirk in her voice. “And yet here you are.”

“Mistakes may have been made.” Wrex drawled and snorted when Tali tried to glare at him from under her helmet. “I’ll see if I can make my way out there. When all this is done. Who knows maybe the council will award us Rannoch. Then you’d have to fight us for it.” He grinned at Tali. “Good luck getting it back then.”

She was rolling her eyes, he knew it.

“We’d manage.” Tali said, sniffing indignantly. “We’re tougher than you think.”

“Yeah.” Wrex agreed, glancing over at her. “So it seems.”

“I mean. We took down a Reaper. Without using a Thresher maw even.”

Wrex threw his head back and laughed. “Only because I bet Quarian’s guard dogs would catch a cold if they went outside.”

“Speaking of dogs I heard Jack got herself a pet varren, I wonder how one of those would do on Rannoch…”

“Bad idea, kid.” Wrex said but leaned back to listen to Tali go on about it anyway.

It’d been years since he’d seen Tali in a firefight. The ride down the elevator to the cargo bay had him glance over at her.

“You been practicing with that shotgun? Still remember the fast-reloading trick I showed you?” He asked.

Tali’s back straightened. “You know, I've taken care of myself for the past few years.”

Of that he had no doubt. She would have had to with everything going on the galaxy right then and even before it from what Wrex had heard of what happened to her father.

“I know. I'm old and I worry, even though my favourite Quarian's all grown up and killing Reapers.” He sighed. It wouldn’t hurt to admit that.

“You're like the crazy head butting uncle I never had.” Tali told him, a mixture of disbelief and amusement in her voice.

Whatever response he was going to have was lost when the doors opened and Shepard raced after her clone.

In the end he pulled both Tali and Shepard back up into the cargo bay before they fell to the Citadel streets below.

“Thanks, Wrex.” Shepard said, slightly out of breath. She stood up and pinged Joker on the comms.

Tali sat on the ground next to him, shaking a little.

He nudged her.

“You okay?”

To his surprise Tali started laughing, falling onto the floor on her back and giggling.

“You ever think about how weird our lives are?” Tali asked between her laughter.

“All the time.” Wrex sighed. “I had it much easier before all of you.”

“Aw but Wrex.” Tali sat up and he was certain she was grinning. “Then you wouldn’t have met your favourite Quarian.”

Wrex rolled his eyes.

“Does that make Garrus your favourite Turian? And Liara your favourite Asari? I bet Shepard’s the favourite human, right? Can I tell them?” Tali asked, snickering.

He almost wished he could have said that she reminded him of the Tali he’d known years ago who was lighter and freer of responsibilities but even back then she bore a weight on her back.

“No one would believe it.” He turned his head a little so Tali would miss his grin.

“I bet they would.” Tali said, leaning back on her hands. “You’re a little soft around us Wrex, I don’t think you’ve noticed it.”

“You take that back.” Wrex grumbled, looking back to frown at her.

“If it makes you feel better you’re my favourite Krogan.” Tali told him, matter of fact.

It did make him feel a little better, not that he was going to say it.

“Yeah yeah, head-butting uncle, I heard.”

“At least your hearing isn’t going in your old age then.”

Wrex certainly proved the head-butting part later that week when Grunt challenged him at the party.

Laughter rang out all around them, the apartment alive as everyone who had once been a part of the Normandy crew shared stories.

Though some of them he’d never met they all shared the common bond of getting dragged into the craziest shit with Shepard.

Glancing around he noticed a certain Quarian was missing and heaved himself away from the balcony with a sigh. It didn’t take long to find Tali nearly passed out in the bathroom.

“I knew you were a lightweight.” Wrex said, looking down at Tali and huffing with a laugh.

“Wrex!” Tali yelled, too loud even over the blasting music.

“Think you can stand or you too out of it?” He asked, amused as Tali hiccuped.

“I am not too out of it.” Tali denied but still lay on the floor. “I am still looking for answers is all.”

“Answers?”

Tali nodded but then held a hand to her helmet like she regretted the movement a second later. “Shepard said the answers to my father are the bottom of the glass. I am still looking.”

Wrex rolled his eyes, “Shepard also thinks she could survive a head butting contest with a krogan. Come on,” He said and leaned down to drag Tali up right.

“Do you think I made him proud? I am not certain he made me proud.” Tali rambled as Wrex started to drag her towards one of the many bedrooms. It wasn’t hard to guess she was still talking about her father. “I thought he had all the answers once; but they were just lies he told me.” Her voice was bitter and Wrex paused.

“Kid no one has all the answers and as for your dad, well. Parents are complicated. At least he didn’t try to kill you.”

“Oh.” Tali said, trailing out the word too long. “I suppose you have me there, Wrex.”

“Always nice to beat a Quarian at something.” Wrex kept moving then.

“Pfft, you don’t want to beat me, I am your favourite.”

“Really going to milk that one, hunh?”

Tali was beaming under her helmet, this close up he could just make out a grin. “It means a lot to me.”

Wrex made a few mock grumbling noises. “Don’t you people have the ability to flush out toxins or something.”

“I will!” Tali said brightly and then hung her head. “In a minute.”

Wrex got to the bed and dumped her on it. “There. Now you can also sleep it off.” Tali flopped around on the bed, making Wrex drag a hand over his face. “This is humiliating for the both of us, kid.”

“I’m not a kid!” Tali complained, her tone the near exact it had been three years ago in the cargo bay. “You even said I was all grown up! And and-” She swayed when she tried to sit up. “Killing Reapers!” She finished victoriously.

Wrex chuckled and pushed her back down, “Yeah you are. I’m proud of you for it. You’re no Kalros but you can pack a punch with that bot of yours.”

“Chitika goes for the optics!” Tali said but it was slightly muffled by her turning her face into the bedsheets.

Wrex snorted when she began to do the wheezy breath with her filter that meant she was out again.

“Your dad’s an idiot.” He told the sleeping Tali and then trudged back to the party.

Tali wasn’t wrong. Rannoch was greener than Tuchanka but a lot of the land had been turned into Geth hubs that were now being dismantled to turn into homes.

Having them so near still creeped Wrex out with their flashlight heads, he wished for a moment Ashley was there to share in his commisery of it but she was still on Earth. After the last battle most of them had headed for their homeworlds while mourning the loss of Shepard.

He’d spent a few months on Tuchanka overseeing building plans for expansion and watching the first of his children grow a little and then gotten the invitation from Tali to “see what a real planet looks like”.

“If this is what qualifies as a real planet I’m not impressed.” Wrex intoned as Tali greeted him at the shuttle pad.

She stepped up to fling her arms around him and pulled him into a hug that he returned with a sigh.

“I’m surprised you made it off that scrap of rock you call one so quickly. I didn’t think you’d accept my invite for another year at least.” Tali stepped back and was fidgeting.

Her mask was off and Wrex squinted a little to view her face. He grunted lightly, “Thought you might be in trouble. Or in need of some good old fashioned Krogan strength to move things.”

Tali rolled her eyes, “This is just a friendly visit.” She said but was still shifting on her feet and wringing her hands. “I wanted to show you how far we’d come.”

Wrex tilted his head, trying to figure out what it was Tali was hiding. Without her mask it was easier to see her avert her eyes. “Well, I also thought I should see my krantt.” He finally said just to see her reaction.

Tali’s face shot up, her gaze meeting his and her mouth dropped in surprise. “I thought you didn’t have a krantt anymore.”

That’s what he’d thought too until three years ago. But he wasn’t about to lie to himself anymore. The Normandy crew would always be important to him.

Wrex just shrugged in response to her though.

Tali bounced on her feet and grinned up at him. “I see the end of the war really has made you soft.” She said, her voice sly. “How are raising babies?”

Wrex grunted. “Almost as annoying as watching over a baby Quarian.”

“Hey!” Tali reached out to whack his shoulder but just hurt her hand instead. She pulled it back with a pout.

“But I’d be glad if they grew up as well as she did.” Wrex admitted a second after even as he laughed.

Her shoulders straightened at that and Tali stood a little taller. “Thanks. I’d hope my father would be able to say the same thing.” Her eyes darted away again at the comment and it clicked to Wrex.

He truly was getting old and soft because instead of dropping it he stepped closer to nudge Tali. “Guess I can be proud in his place then.”

Tali hesitated only a second before she smiled at him again. It was a little sad this time but the sincerity was there. “Come on old man, I’ll show you why we Quarians were once considered the best builders.”

“So long as it looks better than your suits.”

Tali whacked his arm again, a lesson not learnt the first time.

“You’re lucky I don’t have a shotgun right now.” She warned him.

“You couldn’t match me even with one.” Wrex said back but it had no bite. He dropped a hand to her shoulder and squeezed lightly.

She probably actually could though he’d never admit it.

After all, he’d taught her the best tricks in the books.

#tali'zorah vas normandy #urdnot wrex #trilogyappreciationweek #beej writes #rannochs #wlwkiranerys

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amanofhamm · 3 years

Note

K. Rool orders one of his kremlins to rub his golden gut after devouring a huge feast.

"Mrraaaaah...what a feast," King K. Rool groaned while lumbering into his throne room. The fat scaly 'king' cradled his obscenely huge gut while it churned and groaned heavily from how full he was. It was so immensely bloated that it jiggled and sloshed with each heavy step the fatso took.

Upon reaching his throne, the bloated tyrant immediately flopped down onto his seat while his impossibly fat belly flopped down with him with a rich sloshing noise. And almost as soon as his thick rump hit his wide, cushioned seat, K. Rool punctuated his fullness with a huge belch that rumbled out of the croc so forcefully it made his belly jiggle.

"HHHUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAHP!!!!!!!!!"

When it ended, K. Rool sighed with relief and let his thick, slimy tongue hang from the corner of his maw. He slumped his thick rump down onto his throne while his massive, golden gut spilled past his thick thighs. The big fat crocodile needed a "pick me up" after yet another failed attempt on taking down that dreaded monkey and his ape pals. And nothing brightened a glutton's mood quite like lots of food. So, K. Rool had gorged himself on a meal that could've fed a dozen kremlins. The end result of which left the wicked croc so bloated that his giant belly was spilling towards his knees.

K. Rool rested his scaly palm over his overstuffed gut and tried to rub it all over. He marveled at the sight of his belly, so weighty in its girth, so big and perfectly round. He lapped his scaly chops contently and gave his gut a proud smack, making it ripple beneath his palm while the golden side of his belly wobbled like one solid, armored mass over its blubbery, scaly sides.

"...Y-Your highness?" called out a small, anxious voice.

K. Rool lazily looked up and saw that the kremlin responsible for him being so utterly bloated had quickly stepped into the throne room. It was a young, thinner-looking kremlin with purple scales and a chefs uniform. He timidly tapped his claws together and smiled up at K. Rool.

"...W-Was your meal to your satisfaction?"

K. Rool's giant, blubbery belly gave an intense groan, like that of a washing machine overloaded to the brim, making K. Rool's gut jostle from the force of it. In response, the hedonistic crocodile slapped his belly hard and loudly belched out his reply to the chef.

"YYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSS!!!!!!!"

The meek-looking kremlin's purple-scaled face turned beat red watching the fat king of kremlins carelessly burp that single word out. It was such a crude display unbecoming of anyone who called themselves a king. And was just one of a billion reasons why the chef adored K. Rool so much.

He tugged at his collar and gave a smile back. "I-I'm very pleased to hear that, your h-highness..."

K. Rool smirked and slumped back in his seat, making his belly spill out even more. He beckoned his chef with a single index claw. "Come here, Fitz."

Fitz the kremlin chef again tugged at his collar and adjusted it in an anxious fashion. He meekly trotted over to K. Rool's side. Once there, he was utterly unable to take his eyes off of that giant belly, stretched out to impossible widths and churning so noisily that the gaseous sounds of K. Rool's digestive system were drowning out his thoughts. Nor could Fitz hide the intense blush on his cheeks.

K. Rool looked back at his chef and smirked. "Well? Are you going to rub or are you going to gawk all day?"

Fitz's brain froze when K. Rool said that. It hadn't fully registered his kings order. "I-I beg your pardon...?"

"Did I not make myself clear?" K. Rool said with a grin and a growl.

So, to make himself loud and clear, he grabbed Fitz by the back of the head and pulled him right up to his maw just in time for another pressure pocket to work its way up K. Rool's thick throat.

"RRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUB!!!!!!!! UUUURRRRRRRRUUUUUUHP!!!!!!!"

K. Rool forcefully belched out the word "rub" right in Fitz' face, until a deep afterburp rolled right after that. The force of his stomach gases pelted Fitz' face enough that if kremlins had any hair, it would've been frazzled.

The young chef croc's eyes were so wide they almost resembled golf balls. His face, slightly stained with spittle, was so red that it looked as if he'd just eaten a ghost pepper.

Once his brain had 'rebooted,' he couldn't be pried off of K. Rool's belly. The chef immediately rushed over to the front of the throne, facing that giant golden belly directly, and proceeded to rub his little scaly hands all across that thick, scaly fat.

K. Rool snickered then sighed contently while Fitz' hands roamed over every bit of that giant globular gut of his. The golden part of K. Rool's stomach felt solid and stiff, not unlike armored scales. It wasn't armor, of course, and as such, still had some softness and give to it. When Fitz' hands really kneaded into the center of K. Rool's belly, his palms sank a little into the golden surface.

And when he started fondling K. Rool's solid outie of a navel, stroking the top of it and pressing into it with his palm, K. Rool shuddered with delight.

The little kremlin bit his lower lip and eagerly ran his hands across the far more blubbery and fatty sides of K. Rool's gut. When his hands roamed the scalier, greener sides of that chunky stomach, they sank into K. Rool's almost generous amount of doughy belly fat. It felt so oddly pleasing to the touch for Fitz, on top of just deeply riling him and his none-too-subtle fetishes up.

He kneaded small circles into the soft, blubbery sides of K. Rool's belly. Experimentally, he gave the side of K. Rool's massive stomach a hearty pat, just to feel it. The way that unbelievably fat belly rippled beneath his palm or the intensely rich slosh he heard emanating from inside K. Rool's gut was indescribable.

"...Y-You're incredible, my lord..." Fitz praised, slapping K. Rool's belly again and shuddering at the ripple it gave.

K. Rool hiccuped from the heavy pat and lapped his lips smugly at his subordinate. "I know," he said without a modicum of modesty.

Fitz continued rubbing his hands all across that belly. All the while, his mind was racing at just how fat King K. Rool really was. He grabbed at some hearty handfuls of scaly belly fat and jostled it around. His palm ran to that incredibly hefty underbelly. There, he pushed his palms into K. Rool's lower gut and actually struggled to even heave such a monumental belly up.

The press alone caused a thick burp to rumble inside of K. Rool's clenched jaws and puffed out his scaly cheeks. But when Fitz released K. Rool's belly and caused it bounce heavily down into place, slapping against the throne and hitting his thighs heavily, K. Rool couldn't help letting out a thunderous belch that rumbled all throughout his throne room.

"BWWAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUURRRR-HHUUUUUUUURRRRROOOOORRRREEEEEEEERRRRRRHLLLP!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The sheer force of that eructation caused Fitz' bones to rattle in place while K. Rool let loose for several seconds straight. His beanbag chair of a belly jostled intensely from the volume of gas evacuating his gut all at once.

Once it ended, K. Rool palmed his thick chest and worked out a sharp afterburp, then a much softer one after that. He grunted and flashed a grin at his intensely blushing chef.

Fitz was a complete mess at that point. "G-G-G-Good one, your h-highness..." he praised in a deeply flustered manner while mindlessly pushing into K. Rool's belly, hoping to hear another gloriously thick eructation from the heavy crocodile king.

K. Rool flashed a teasing and toothy smirk at the young chef.

"You have issues, kid..." he said teasingly.

But then he indulged the chef further by reaching down and practically hugging him right against his flabby belly. The little kremlin sank a great deal into K. Rool's monumental belly fat. And of course, the added pressure forced a great deal of gas up K. Rool's throat, which he very aggressively belched out as loudly as he could.

"BRRRUUUUUUUUURRRRROOOOOORRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-HHHAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRLP!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

K. Rool gave his biggest belch yet, blasting out of the croc so loudly that any kremlin within two hundred yards could heard the crude eructation bellowing from the belly of the beast. What was more was that K. Rool let rip that colossal eructation right in Fitz' general direction for a staggering ten plus seconds straight. It petered out halfway in, only for K. Rool to squeeze Fitz against his belly even harder to force the rest of the gas out of his system.

When it ended, K. Rool sighed heavily, breathing his warm, stinking breath down over Fitz' furiously flushed face.

"Grraaaaaaahhh...heh, that had to be a new record..." K. Rool moaned with serious relief. He nudged his statue-stiff chef teasingly. "Keep rubbin' and maybe you can help me top that record. Whadduya say?"

Fitz was certain he was going to be flustered to death at this point. And honestly, as he vigorously resumed rubbing that gelatinous belly, he couldn't think of a better way to go...

#kink fic #belly #stuffing #belly rub #gurgles #indigestion #donkey kong #krool #king k. rool #burp #belch #burp kink #belly kink #belly play #kneading #kinktease #asks #writing requests #scenarios

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chainsxwsmile · 4 years

Text

What if, instead of meeting Gollum in the caves, Bilbo meets a certain Troll? (Not much is changed in canon, but this is my first fanfiction!)

---

He had landed on something soft; at least Bilbo had enough self-awareness to be grateful for that. The ample colony of sizable mushrooms softened his fall down the cavern yet the same couldn’t be said for his goblin assailant. Despite Bilbo’s own knuckles skinned raw, his hip throbbing from the fall, and all sorts of grime gathered upon his clothes, his injuries couldn’t hold a candle to the unfortunate goblin who had taken a tumble alongside the hobbit. The creature wheezed, with barely enough strength to move its head about the darkened crevice surrounding them both. Bilbo had half a mind to pity the creature, even if he had only felt its rotten teeth sink into his neck just a few moments before their fall. The edges of Bilbo’s vision still blurred, and he squinted against the lowlight— and jumped as a pair of uncannily massive eyes met his own. A skulking being, vertebrate protruding from its arched back as it stalked forward on all fours, slunk into the dim light. Instinctively, Bilbo stilled within the cover of the mushrooms, and he held his breath as the creature’s raspy voice echoed across the chasm.

“Yesss. Yes! Yes,” the creature grinned terribly, before something between a cough and choke rose from its throat. “Gollum. Gollum!” it hissed, and its spindly hands snatched the ankles of the dazed goblin. The sudden movement launched Bilbo’s former assailant into a frenzy and the goblin thrashed about, shrieking and clawing. The gangly creature returned the blows, stone in hand, strategically smashing in the goblin’s skull; the goblin went limp and the shrieks died in its throat. “Nasty goblinses are better than old bones, precious,” the spindly creature mused aloud, grunting as it dragged its prize behind it. “Better than nothing.”

Only when the horrid creature and its prey slipped from his sight did Bilbo finally remember to breathe. It came out in a shudder, and the hobbit scrambled to his feet; and quite grateful beyond doubt that his sword—still glowing a dazzling blue— buried itself beneath a mushroom cap, hidden from the terrible creature. As Bilbo’s hand steadied the weight of the sword, a metallic flash on the cavern floor caught his eye. He bent down and retrieved in his hand a ring. Golden and simple, yet starkly elegant against the cavern walls. A screeching wail far off in the distance snapped Bilbo from his thoughts, and he trekked forward, pocketing the ring and keeping his glowing sword low. “Aah, too many boneses, precious! Not enough flesh,” the gangly creature cried, and then in a harsher voice; “Shut up! Cut its skin off! Start with its head.” Against his own instincts, Bilbo slunk past the piles of bones that haphazardly littered the cavern floor, his eyes fastened to the creature perched atop a sharp rock protruding out from the cavern lake. “The cold hard lands, they bites our hands, they gnaws our feet, for rocks and stones are like old bones all bare of meat, cold as death, without no breath it’s good to eat.” In every beat of the song, the creature’s hands—armed with a sharp rock— descended upon the goblin’s head. Bilbo winced visibly at every strike and each sickening sound the blows produced. At last, the rock smashed the goblin’s skull once more that Bilbo’s sword flickered like candlelight before being snuffed out, dead.

Suddenly a booming voice growled from beyond the rock, and Bilbo watched silently as the horrid gangly creature scattered from his sight, frightened off by the owner of the voice. From the shadow beyond the lake drew a hulking figure; so large Bilbo wondered how it had managed to get into the caverns in the first place. Nearly five meters tall, the being towered over the fallen, dead goblin, sniffing it shortly before giving what Bilbo presumed was a disgusted growl. Then two glowing, beady blue eyes met Bilbo’s and the hobbit saw the beast’s posture straighten in mild surprise.

It had seen him.

The hobbit scrambled back from the water, back against the rock, and lay still as he could, hoping that the beast would either lose interest or leave. Yet not even a moment went by that Bilbo felt any icy droplet of water on his curled locks. And then another. And as his eyes glanced upward— and upward and upward more— Bilbo felt his heart stop. The beast had silently crossed the lake and stood over the poor frightened hobbit, who gaped helplessly at the enormous foe. The beast quickly lumbered down from the rock formation, hastily putting itself between Bilbo and any means of escape; the behemoth’s movement so eerily silent, Bilbo couldn’t help but start to shake. But that wasn’t even the worst part; as the beast faced the hobbit, a terribly wide grin stretched across its scarred lips. If there was any breath left in Bilbo, the sight of the toothy smile snatched it from him. Canines the size of the little hobbit’s legs flashed a deadly white alongside each pointed, razor-sharp tooth. Heavy brows lidded the beast’s beady eyes in what Bilbo could only assume to be a ghastly intrigued expression. Like a cat licking its maw and readying itself to play with a poor mouse until it was beaten dead. The thought only escalated Bilbo’s shaking, and he was quite surprised he hadn’t dropped his sword yet. This close, Bilbo could see with what he was dealing: the beast was a troll. Not a stone troll; a slate-blue color graced the creature’s rough skin, and a black mane ran down its thick, muscular neck. Its broad nose was shaped like that of a great cat’s and it idled naturally on all fours. Then it spoke, in a deep, rumbling voice that sent a shiver down Bilbo’s spine.

“Hello,” it— he— bellowed. For a moment, Bilbo could only reply with a squeak— as that was all he could get out of his throat, at first. “Y-Yes, hello,” he replied politely, backing against the solid rock and holding his sword out precariously before him. Much luck that sword would do; it looked like a toothpick to the troll! The beast neared closer again, placing his enormous face— and toothy maw— within touching distance. The troll’s nostril’s flared and a sharp exhale billowed Bilbo’s hair and elicited a rather pitiful whimper from the hobbit. Yes, this troll was much bigger than the stone trolls; and Thorin’s company was very likely on the other side of the mountain for all Bilbo knew. Oh, what terrible luck! “Never seen a tasty li’l bite like you b’fore,” the troll mused. A gargantuan hand rose up to prod at the hobbit, and Bilbo quickly reacted, swinging the sword at the giant hand’s threat. “Stay back! Stay back!” the hobbit warned sternly, though his knees shook, and the sword trembled in his hands. The troll blinked, and for a moment Bilbo wondered if the beast would decide to smash him with a fist and be done with it. Instead, a hearty — albeit blood-chilling— laugh rolled out of the troll’s cavernous throat and his terrible teeth flashed evermore brightly. “Easy there, li’l morsel,” the troll reassured Bilbo; or at least, Bilbo wondered if that was even meant as a reassurance. “Just wonderin’ what you are, is all. I don’t get much company these days.” Bilbo blinked, and then swallowed hard, his throat dry with anxiety. “My name is Bilbo Baggins,” he answered, suddenly feeling rather claustrophobic despite the enormity of cavern around them both. Suddenly the clawed hand shot forward again— and Bilbo braced himself to take its blow— until it stopped short before him, extended out in greeting. “Name’s Bruce,” the troll grinned toothily. Bilbo was fairly certain he’d have better luck fitting his whole body in the troll’s palm than successfully shaking the troll’s hand. Let alone wrapping one of his hands around the troll’s single finger. The troll— Bruce— caught onto Bilbo’s hesitation and, after a beat, retrieved his hand. “So, Bilbo,” Bruce continued, still towering over the poor hobbit. “Where’re ye from?” “I-I’m a hobbit. From the Shire.” Bilbo answered quickly, wondering when and if the troll would back away, and allow Bilbo a chance to escape. Or even just a chance to breathe. “A hobbit, eh?” The troll’s smile grew— if that were possible. “Well, I’ve never had a hobbit b’fore,” Bruce chuckled before adding, almost as an afterthought. “Well, never as company, that’s for sure.” With each morbid joke at his expense, Bilbo’s paralyzing fear metamorphosed to panicked irritability; his brows lowered and narrowed his eyes, and his mouth drew to a thin line. “Okay, look— I just want to get out of here, so if you could quit playing your games, I’ll gladly be on my way!” Bilbo pleaded. Well, if he knew how to get out of there. The various tunnels wound about the mountain in a cavernous labyrinth. “Games, eh?” The troll let out a noise which Bilbo couldn’t quite discern; it was either a low, lulling growl or a thoughtful hum. “Well, my li’l tidbit, why don’t we ‘ave ourselves a li’l wager, eh?” Bruce arched a brow. “A li’l guessin’ game, if ye will.” Bilbo furrowed his brows, tentatively. “What, like... riddles?” he asked. “Yeah! Just like that. Ye wanna get out so badly, why not make it fun.” Well, perhaps fun for you, Bilbo grumbled in his mind but considered the offer, silently. He hadn’t any clue this troll would keep his word. But if Bilbo didn’t play along... what stopped Bruce from killing him then and there? The hobbit cleared his throat. “Very well; if I win, you show me the way out of here.” “Ah, that’s the spirit, li’l bite,” Bruce grinned broadly before inching closer, ignoring the sword pointed at his face. “And what if I win, eh?” A short breath slipped out from Bilbo at the thought of such a grisly end; he wondered how this troll fancied to kill him. Perhaps like the stone trolls— maybe the giant brute would cook him alive, or sit on him and crush him, or tear the hobbit limb from limb. Bilbo shuddered before finding his words. “If you win, you can... have your way with me.” Perhaps Bilbo just needed to spare himself the details for now. “It’s a deal, then,” the massive troll replied before backing away; and for the first time in what seemed like hours, Bilbo finally grappled to catch a breath without the beast hovering over him. As Bruce backed off, Bilbo could take in the entirety of the troll without having to move his head about wildly. In the lowlight, Bilbo could vaguely catch traces of a dappled pattern along the troll’s back, shoulders, and arms that appeared like blots and splatters of ink. His toes were shaped more like plantigrade hooves than normal feet. His skin was bare, save for a weathered leather armored skirt that fell to his knees. “You go first, li’l morsel,” Bruce ordered, turning to face Bilbo before the troll reclined onto the cavern floor like a great big cat. Remembering his manners, Bilbo, in turn, sheathed his sword. The hobbit paused a moment in thought before beginning: “Thirty white horses on a red hill. First, they champ, then they stamp, then they stand still.” Bilbo watched as the troll’s face took on a mildly puzzled expression, and Bruce’s beady blue eyes flit across the cavern floors as if the answer lay spelled out the piles of bones. Yet, not a second later, the troll’s face lit up and Bruce grinned toothily. “Teeth?” he asked, and Bilbo felt his own posture deflate. Bruce, however, took it rather victoriously, letting out another deafening laugh. “Hah! Good one, li’l hobbit! Guess it’s my turn, then?” Bruce cleared his throat. “My body is a tree and my teeth are from the ground. I’m carried by the millions, and I lunge to strike you down.” Bilbo wet his lips and nodded, trying to ignore the troll’s constant, predatory gaze upon him. Body is a tree; that means it’s made of wood. Lunging to strike. Not a snake. Teeth from the ground. Not a sword. “A spear!” Bilbo guessed. The troll scoffed, though the smile betrayed him. “What, am I makin’ this too easy for ye?” Bilbo blinked, mouth opened but couldn’t quite find the right, careful words to reply. So, he continued onto the next riddle: “A…a box without hinges, key or…or lid, yet golden treasure inside is hid.” The troll’s smile faltered before a thoughtful expression—one Bilbo hadn’t imagined befalling the face of a troll—crept onto Bruce’s face. Bilbo leapt back as the troll rose from the ground; yet this time, Bruce did so slowly and nonchalantly—so much that Bilbo had half a mind to wonder if this was a trap. That the troll feigned disinterest in the hobbit and more attention to the riddles, only to turn around a snatch him up. Yet as Bilbo watched, the troll’s lips moved silently, as if reciting back the words of the riddle. The hobbit breathed shakily, impatiently. “Well?” “Didn’t think there was a time limit,” the troll retorted, arching a brow, and Bilbo drew back silently… until the troll’s eyes lit up suddenly again. “Eggs?” The hobbit sighed audibly, disheartened, and wondered how much time he’d been wasting trying to keep this beast entertained; Thorin and others were probably on the other side of the mountains by now, and presumably didn’t even notice his absence. The troll didn’t laugh this time at his win, which caused Bilbo to glance up, worriedly. Bruce lumbered back towards him, and the hobbit’s hand subconsciously reached for his sword. “My turn, li’l bite,” the troll purred, moving past Bilbo. A cloud of vocal, screeching bats suddenly took wing from the cavern walls and caught the hobbit’s attention, and he whipped around, momentarily distracted. Yet when Bilbo’s eyes returned to where the troll should have been, a gasp slipped from his mouth. How did such a massive creature just disappear? One moment, Bruce had been there, idling and hovering over Bilbo, and the next— From out of the various tunnels and shadows, the troll’s voice echoed once more, reminding Bilbo that the beast was still very much there. And watching him carefully. “The fallen li’l bat pup caught in the lion’s claws. The fledgling in a mist net. The minnow in gar jaws.” The hobbit felt his brows furrow in confusion; Bilbo hadn’t heard any of these troll’s riddles. “Well?” boomed the voice from the shadows. The hobbit shook his head. “Please give me a moment! I did give you a good long while.” Bat pup? Lion? Fledgling? Minnow? “I don’t know this one,” the hobbit confessed, in a voice louder than he anticipated. Again, the rumbling, growling hum echoed about the cavern walls. Bilbo turned about, unable to find the direction of the source. “Want three guesses, li’l morsel?” the voice crooned. Bilbo found himself nodding, against his better judgment. “Bad luck?” the hobbit guessed aloud. “Close,” the voice bellowed back. “But a bit too broad. Guess again.” Biting his lips, Bilbo racked through his brain, though anxiety threatened to cloud his thoughts. “Prey?” “Ye’re gettin’ there,” the voice crooned again. “Last guess. Last chance.” He was close—at least according to the disembodied voice echoing about the cavern walls. Bilbo turned about, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim light. Trying to pick out the massive troll from beneath the shadows. The hobbit unsheathed his sword, feeling his heartbeat accelerating with every second. “Captured prey?” The voice gave a ‘tsk’ sound with a tone of feigned pity. “Wrong.” “Well, then what is it?” the hobbit turned and turned, sword out before him. Bilbo felt hot breath on his neck and a growl in his ear. “You.”

A giant clawed hand struck out. Before Bilbo could even process the sudden blur of movement, he was on the ground, tiny bones prodding into his back. He heard the distinct clatter of metal against stone and his right hand felt vulnerably empty; his sword glinted almost cruelly just out of reach. All breath left him as the clawed hand weighed down upon his entire body, pinning him to the cold cavern floor. His legs kicked futilely, and he squirmed beneath the troll’s grasp. Bilbo could barely remember his mouth opening, but found his own voice – “No, no, no, no!” – so very far away, as if it didn’t even belong to him anymore and he was dead already. Then the troll’s terrible grin suddenly filled every inch of Bilbo’s sight as Bruce’s face steadied itself half a meter from Bilbo’s own. The little hobbit prayed that it wouldn’t be the last sight he’d take to the grave. “Looks like I win, then,” Bruce grinned triumphantly. The troll didn’t even give Bilbo any time to respond or react before the massive hand flipped him over, and Bilbo could only watch from the corner of his eye as jaws descended upon him. The poor hobbit let out a strangled scream as the enormous canines slipped beneath his chest and above his legs, and he felt hot breath spread across his captured torso. Bilbo struggled and scratched and kicked with every parcel of strength left in his body. He watched helplessly as the ground fell beneath him, as the troll raised him into the air, and the horrid realization set in; Bilbo was held— captured— in the troll’s jaws. It was almost too much for the little hobbit’s heart, and the corners of his vision blurred. Perhaps if he were lucky, he would faint and miss the pain of being torn in two by the sheer strength of the troll’s bite. Seconds felt like hours as Bruce held the hobbit in his teeth’s grasp, and Bilbo glanced about his surroundings, dazed by the attack and partially awaiting the minute that the jaws would snap together, and he’d be reduced to cuts of meat.

But the agony didn’t come.

Suddenly, Bruce lurched forward. They were moving. Forward, he thought, though vertigo set in and, for a moment, Bilbo couldn’t quite tell up from down. He could feel the points of the troll’s premolars digging into both his chest and thighs; luckily, they hadn’t pierced the skin, but would most certainly bruise later. If Bilbo wasn’t eaten before that.

“Where are we going? Where are you taking me?” Bilbo asked, breathlessly. His hands grappled at the flesh along the troll’s chin and his legs kicked weakly in protest. “Ye’ll see soon ‘nough,” the troll replied, his words muffled; this close, Bilbo could feel the deepness of Bruce’s voice vibrating through his body and it did little to calm whatever nerves he had left. The edges of Bilbo’s vision blurred, then darkened, and the little hobbit slipped out of consciousness.

Bilbo awoke with a jolt and immediately felt the teeth digging into his chest once more. The hobbit gave a shaky sigh, disappointed that it hadn’t all been a nightmare and he’d been back in Rivendell this whole time. “Oh, good! Ye’re awake. We’re comin’ up to a dodgy part in the path ahead. If it makes ye feel better,” Bruce said, shaking Bilbo from his thoughts. “Don’t look down.” Don’t look—? In the dim light, Bilbo couldn’t quite discern if the ground had fallen away, or if the cavern floor were simply a pitch black. The troll’s claw dislodged a stream of pebbles that descended into the floor, swallowed up by the darkness below. Well, that answered Bilbo’s question. A sharp ravine wound beneath both him and his captor with a width large enough for the hobbit to slip and fall through. Yet the troll’s size was so great that it was nothing more than a furrow in the middle of the road; Bruce kept his arms and legs on each side, far from the middle of the path. After moments turned to minutes and fear dissolved into disgruntled impatience, Bilbo found his voice returning to his throat. “Why aren’t you telling me where we’re headed?” “Would it matter to you?” The hobbit sighed, dejected, and grew silent. Bruce was most certainly taking Bilbo to his hoard, or his part of the cave to devour. And Bilbo figured that the troll knew that the hobbit knew this. And he hadn’t even his sword to defend himself. “So ‘ow’d ye end up down ‘ere, anyway?” the troll asked, words still garbled from holding Bilbo beneath his teeth. Self-awareness nearly caused the hobbit to scoff with sickened amusement. Here Bilbo was, dangling from the mouth of a giant troll, and the troll wanted to know his prey’s life story. “Do you ask that question to everyone you eat?” Bilbo asked, impatiently. “Or are you just trying to fill the silence?” “The latter, usually,” the troll replied, with a shrug. “Might as well, while we walk.” “Fine,” Bilbo sighed, brow low as he squirmed with discomfort. “I… I was with a company, but I lost them in the mountains,” Bilbo said, shortly before adding, “But I doubt my absence will matter all that much.” The troll grew uncharacteristically silent for a moment and Bilbo chanced some movement to turn his head, catching a glimpse that confused him greatly. The beady blue eyes of the troll had softened, brows knit with an almost concerned expression. What was it spread across the beast’s face? Guilt that he was going to soon eat his company? Sympathy to Bilbo’s plight?

After a long moment, Bruce finally spoke again. “We’re ‘lmost there, lil’ morsel,” the troll said solemnly. “It’s just up ahead.” Bilbo turned his head to the side, in the direction of their path. A single thin line of light sliced through the darkness. For a moment, the hobbit could only see white through the shape; yet as his eyes adjusted and the troll drew closer, he could catch colors of green and blue, and caught the scent of pine trees and crisp air. The way out. He was so close. So close to freedom that he could feel the wind of the outside world. Yet, just as the realization had settled into the hobbit’s mind, Bilbo felt the troll lurch to a stop and his heart sank. It was right there. The door was right there! Suddenly the ground rushed up to meet Bilbo as Bruce lowered his jaws to the ground. The hobbit didn’t feel the teeth pull away from him until both of his furry feet were planted on the ground. Already, Bilbo could feel the wind on his face and the warm light from the outside world dip the stark, gray stones around the entrance into a honeyed glow. Even the troll’s features shone clearer; Bilbo noticed the various scars lining the troll’s body and the odd hue of blue in the troll’s skin. He also noticed that the troll stood in the sunlight, yet Bruce’s skin didn’t transform into dusty gray rock. Which meant— Oh, Bilbo’s heart sank suddenly. Even if he made a mad dash for the exit of the cave, the troll would catch up to him. Not even sunlight could save him.

“’lright, Bilbo. Ye ready?” Bruce’s voice bellowed from behind Bilbo, and the hobbit felt his face redden. So that’s how it was going to be, then? The troll would ask the hobbit to just hold still and snap him up, when Bilbo was inches from getting out of the horrid cave? Did the troll think Bilbo would react kindly—obediently— and go quietly as he was butchered? No! Certainly not! This was too much! “You— you absolute fiend!” Bilbo needn’t care about any insult thrown towards the troll; he was going to die, anyway. And Bruce’s treatment towards his prey couldn’t be any crueler. “Is this all a game to you? Taking me all this way out of caves just to eat me? Just to have freedom be right there and snatch it all away?!” Furious, the hobbit punched and kicked at the troll’s legs, thick as tree trunks. The blows did little to move Bruce, and Bilbo doubted the troll could even feel them. If only he’d still had his sword; at least he’d give the troll some pain for the hobbit’s trouble. Only when the hobbit’s attacks persisted did a giant hand snatch Bilbo up again. Yet anger had replaced any fear still residing in Bilbo and his mouth pressed firmly into a line, defiantly glowering at his captor. “I’m not gonna eat’cha,” Bruce confessed, a guilty expression spreading across his scarred features. “Never was.” Bilbo froze, blinked, and then sputtered indignantly. Not that he wished to be eaten or killed or mangled— heavens, no! “Then why didn’t you just say so?!” the hobbit asked as the volume of his voice rose, sternly. The troll heaved a heavy sigh. “I wanted to! I did, believe me! It’s just… I heard the little cave creature followin’ us—” Bilbo blinked in confusion before memories rushed back, of stone in gnarled hand and the goblin’s broken skull. “He was gettin’ quite close to you from the shadows; I needed to make sure he thought ye were a goner.” The hobbit recalled the spindly creature, its throaty, scratchy voice as it bludgeoned the goblin to death. Bilbo could barely find his own words, bewildered. “But you said— “ “You said I could ‘ave my way with ye,” Bruce grinned, yet this time his eyes were soft. Thoughtful, even. “Never actually said anythin’ ‘bout eatin’ ye, that’s for sure.” The troll then reached behind him along his leather belt and retrieved a shining object, pinched delicately between his thumb and index finger. Bilbo’s brows rose. His sword! All this time, he’d thought the troll left it behind them in the cave. With a strange gentleness, Bruce set the hobbit down and handed the sword back to Bilbo, handle first. “Might wanna hurry ‘long then. I smell yer friends up ahead.” The hobbit blinked incredulously before accepting back his sword and returning it to its sheath. He swallowed before raising his gaze up to the giant. “Thank you,” Bilbo said, quite sincerely. “Maybe we’ll meet ‘gain, li’l bite. Hopefully under better circumstances,” Bruce said, giving a nod to the hobbit before turning back towards the cave. Bilbo gave one last look at the troll before nodding in return; and he hurried along, racing down the hill in hopes of catching up to the company.

#bilbo baggins #Bilbo #olog hai #olog #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #Bilbo fan fiction #bilbo fanart #my art #my fanfic

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c-rose2081 · 3 years

Text

Dragon Colds & Rose Petals

Love Like Dragons AU

Bevie | Huma (implied) | Gildry | Mal & Audrey BROTP

—

Evie Grimhilde was a happily married woman. She had been for nearly three months now, and it was marital bliss. But there was a small part of her that was still a lonely, single, Dragon mom. So when Ben walked in on her that day, struggling to keep the human thermometer in Mal’s mouth to take her temperature, he laughed.

Mal, her best friend and a five year old Isle Dragon, had been sick for the past two days. Evie wasn’t sure what brought it on, as Audrey - Ben’s Aurorian Dragon - didn’t seem to have anything. And of course that small, single, lonely dragon mom part of her reared it’s head. What if Mal was terminally ill? What if she died? What if Evie would wake up tomorrow and her best friend wouldn’t be there? It nearly sent her into hysterics. Coddling the cranky, tired spike menace was the only thing that could calm her.

Naturally, Mal hated it.

Ben, thankfully, was a level headed man, and he rescued poor Mal and quarantined her in another room. He then held Evie to his chest and quietly stroked her hair as she rattled off every possible dragon disease she found on the internet and their outcomes.

“I have a friend who’s a vet,” Ben told Evie when she had finally calmed down, holding her close as to keep her from spending the night with Mal - who was no doubt sleeping, “she comes and looks at Audrey every few months, I’m sure she’d be happy to give Mal a checkup,”

And so Evie agreed that a vet visit would be the best option, rather then trusting DragonMD. Of course, she wasn’t aware that Ben and this ‘vet’ were very close friends. Let alone that this ‘vet’ was a woman who he was apparently quite comfortable with. Uma was a pretty, muscly, dark skinned sort with long turquoise and white braids. She stood at least a head above Evie in height, and when she pictured a ‘vet’, Uma was quite far from what she was imagining.

“Uma!” Ben greeted with an open hug, “thanks for coming,”

“You’re lucky, Ben. I just got back into town,”

“Uma works in freight,” Ben explained to Evie, resting an arm around her waist as Uma pulled a rather large black duffle in behind her, “she travels a lot; it’s why you didn’t meet her at the wedding. Uma, this is my wife, Evie. I wrote to you about her,”

“Yeah; all good things thankfully. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Uma replied, Evie smiling in kind and taking her hand in a firm shake. The grip was incredibly strong, and the skin on her palms was callous, “Ben, I hope you don’t mind. But I brought Gil.”

“Who’s Gil?” Evie asked, brows popping up. She expected Gil to be a person, or perhaps a child. Having a large, horn-backed dragon wander in with a rose in his beak wasn’t what Evie expected at all. Like the day she had met Audrey, the girl yearned for her sketchbook, “oh my goodness,”

“I told you. Uma is great with dragons,” Ben laughed, “this is Gil,”

“My boyfriends dragon, actually,” Uma told Evie.

“I’ve never seen anything like him!” Evie exclaimed, jostling as ‘Gil’ nearly knocked her over when he came to bump the side of her leg with a wing.

“Sorry,” the sailor groaned, rolling her eyes as she grabbed the dragon by the back of the neck, “he’s really good with people, and gentle as they come. But he’s just so big,”

“What kind of dragon is he?” Evie asked, kneeling down to have a better look. Gil, unlike both Mal and Audrey, was built like a narrow turtle, and was armored like a tank. He had short legs with four toes each, and an articulated shell covering his nape, all the way down to his back legs. His tail was stubby, but sprouted four impressively long spikes, and his face was wide eye’d with a beak rather then a toothy maw. Gil’s wings, Evie noticed, folded inelegantly against the outside of his shell, a bit like messy accordion blinds. No doubt they were quite large in order to help such a bulky creature fly.

“Gil is a Coastal Dragon. They usually live out by the sea, in the sand,” Uma explained, heaving the creature to the side where he flopped to his belly unbothered, still holding the bright red flower in his beak, “Harry picked him up when he was traveling, and he’s been with us ever since. He’s a lazy beast,” Uma complained, tapping the creature’s shell with a boot, “doesn’t do jack-shit other then lay around all day,”

Evie couldn’t help but laugh at this, only to jump as Gil made a noise. It sounded almost like a tired, sad foghorn.

“He’s been crying like that all morning,”Uma drawled, “the minute he figured out I was coming here, he wouldn’t let me leave without him,”

“Why would he do that?” Evie asked, frowning slightly in confusion as Ben rubbed the back of his head and Uma glanced at him expectantly.

“Princess! Your boyfriend’s here!” Ben called out, his voice echoing through the tall vaulted ceiling of their house. Puzzled for a moment, Evie turned as Audrey’s birdsong reached her ear. It only took a second before the pink bullet - wings fully outstretched - glided into the room. Gil, who had previously been laying down, leapt up faster then Evie ever could’ve imagined for such a stocky beast. His accordion wings unfurled like a whip, and Uma tugged Evie backwards a step as he gave one powerful flap and was in the air.

“Sweet Merlin, he’s massive,” Evie breathed in wonder, watching as Gil captured Audrey in a mid-flight embrace, enfolding her between his arms and resting his large head on her crest, “are they...?”

“Together,” Ben confirmed with a nod, “it was a surprise to us to, once we figured it out,”

“Gil is romantic, the big lug,” Uma chuckled, placing her hands on her hips as Gil transferred the rose he’d been keeping to Audrey, who somehow managed to tuck it behind her ear flap in a very teenage-girl like manner, “he gets it from Harry, I think. Sorry about your rose bushes, Ben.” Uma admitted, grimacing slightly as Ben merely chuckled.

“It’s alright. The gardeners will take care of it,”

“Right then. So, you told me you had a sick dragon here?” Uma asked Evie, “and it’s clearly not Audrey,”

“My dragon, Mal, has been sick for a few days now,” Evie told the woman, returning to fretting over her best friend, “She’s really dull and tired, and even more cranky then usual,”

“Hm, that could be a number of things,” Uma pondered, heaving her black duffle up over one shoulder, “what breed is she?”

“An Isle Dragon. At least I think she is. I got the egg as a gift. Mom didn’t ever tell me where she got it from,”

“Well, let’s get to it then. I want out of here before Gil starts mimicking Audrey’s love songs,”

And so the trio left the foyer, heading upstairs into the large upper floor. Ben had made Mal her own special quarantine room. Audrey’s claw marks were all over the door’s painted exterior, showing where she’d been trying to get in earlier.

“I’ll have to talk to that girl,” Ben mumbled at reaching the door, ruffling his hair and groaning at the idea of having to fix the damage. Audrey wasn’t normally destructive, and Evie thought maybe she was coming down with something like Mal had. But Uma merely shook her head.

“It’s only natural,” she explained, opening the door and flicking on the light, “Audrey and Mal have probably already formed a family unit. It’s normal for one dragon to comfort another in times of pain or illness,”

“But Mal and Audrey quarrel constantly,” Evie complained, “they never get along,”

“Maybe so, but Dragons aren’t solitary in the wild. They build family units to survive. You did the right thing though, keeping Audrey out of here,” Uma admitted, kicking the door closed with a boot. Mal was laying in her basket, snoozing the day away unbothered by their entrance.

“I’m going to go call mom and dad,” Ben said to Evie quietly, “see if I can’t get someone down here to fix the door, and the bushes. You’ll be ok here with Uma?”

“Yeah. Love you,”

Sharing a quick kiss on the lips , Ben gave a half wave to Uma before skirting back out the door and vanishing.

“You two are good together,” Uma commented a little while later, removing a stethoscope from her bag and slinging it around her neck, “I was surprised when Ben said he was getting married,”

“Oh?”

Sinking down onto a low stool, Evie watched as Uma very carefully checked Mal’s heartbeat, “why do you say that?”

Uma switched the stethoscope for an ear tool as she began checking Mal’s ear holes.

“I dunno; it just never seemed like he could find the right fit. Hell, even we tried it out once,” Uma admitted with a laugh. This caused Evie’s stomach to drop like a rock. She didn’t mean for the green eye’d monster to make an appearance, but she couldn’t help it. After all, it had only been a few months, and she was nothing like Uma.

“Uh...why didn’t it work out? You and Ben?”

“Ah, we aren’t anything alike, really,” Uma said, satisfied with Mal’s ears and digging around in her bag for a moment, “I was always gone, you know? And of course Ben has his parents business to worry about. He needed someone who could keep up with him. Ah,” finding what she was looking for, Uma removed a small ‘T’ shaped device from the bag, “let’s just take the temperature,”

With a beep, Uma looked at the little digital screen and nodded. She put her tools away, removing a stuffed toy from inside her bag and tucking it under one of Mal’s fat arms.

“You, Evie, seem like just the right type for him,” Uma insisted with a sharp nod, rising from her place on the floor and wiping her hands on her jeans, “as for Mal, I suspect a cold is to blame for this. Where does she normally sleep?”

“Uh, up in the rafters above my bed. She used to sleep next to me, but I share a bed with Ben now. Audrey usually sleeps on her perch,”

“Ah. I suggest maybe installing a heat lamp up there, or building a nesting box. I think she’s getting to cold at night. Dragons are sensitive to that sort of thing,”

“I didn’t know,” Evie admitted, “thank you, Uma,”

“Anytime. I love Dragons, and Ben is still a great friend so I’ll help him out when I can. Anyway, Mal should be back to her normal self in a few days. Keep her warm and eating normally, and if anything changes, call me again and I’ll come back,”

“Can Audrey be allowed back in?” Evie asked, holding the door open for Uma to leave as the girl shook her head.

“No. Keep Mal in here and resting until she’s closer to her normal self. No need to risk Audrey catching whatever she has.”

“Ok. I can do that,” Evie nodded, following Uma back downstairs. Ben was standing in the yard out front, looking over the trampled rose bushes. Audrey and Gil were cuddled up within the broken branches, warm and content in a nest of prickly thorns and velvet petals.

“I think Gil might be more romantic then you, Ben,” Evie joked, looping her arm through her husbands as the man made an offended noise in his throat.

“So you want rose petals?” He asked, “I can do that,”

“Mhm, whatever you say,”

“So how’s Mal? Everything ok?”

“She’ll be just fine,” Uma restated, “Evie knows what needs to be done. As for you, Harry wants to get together at some point for a guys night.”

“Will do. I’ll call him and Jay when I have time,”

Bobbing her head in understanding, Uma gently prodded Gil with a toe through the nest, causing him to lift his head groggily.

“Alright, big fella. Kiss your girlfriend goodbye, we need to get going,”

Gil gave a sad little moan and Uma shook her head, “no complaints. I’m the captain here. Now kisses, and let’s go,”

Evie couldn’t help her little ‘awe’ as Gil reluctantly gave Audrey a little cheek nudge before standing and romping out of the bushes unhappily. Ben picked his own dragon up from the thorns, cradling her like a baby as she wailed dramatically.

“Do you cry like that every time I leave the house?” Evie asked as Uma hauled Gil into her Jeep, leaving poor Audrey heartbroken and hanging limply off Ben’s arm.

“No,” Ben insisted, using his free hand to grasp Evie’s as he gave it a squeeze, “I’m even worse.”

—

A/N: So...this is officially an AU! I’m calling it the Love Like Dragons AU. Basically Auradon is just a normal city (no prince and princesses, no pirates, ect.). Ben is the heir to his wealthy parents business rather then being a King. And the only ‘magical’ thing in Auradon is the dragons part of it. If you have any questions or suggestions for the AU, ping me :3

#descendants fanfiction #disney descendants #descendants #dragons #fanfiction #mal bertha #audrey rose #ben florian #evie grimhilde #uma daughter of ursula #alternate universe #love like dragons au

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remmushound · 3 years

Text

Beyond the Bay chapter 6: Mirror Images

“It’s happening again.”

Raphael was quick to Donatello’s side, glancing over the handheld panel as it started to flash and beep a long, jarring warning that didn't let up no matter how many buttons Donatello pressed. The noise was only becoming louder, making the other three brothers rush to cover their ears to hopefully spare their hearing from the pressure of the echoing alarm.

“We get it! Turn it off, Don!” Leonardo growled, but his voice was barely heard.

“Working on it!” Donatello said, and he was, yet still the device refused to listen. It started to spark and the top of it erupted in flames while Donatello just kept repeating, “No no no no no no no—“

Raphael had enough. He grabbed the device from Donatello and shoved it in his mouth, chewing up the hard metal and jolting wires before swallowing the painful mouthful.

“There. All quiet.” Raphael breathed a sigh of relief. “No more noise.”

Donatello blinked slowly. “It took me three months to make that…”

“And it took me three seconds to eat it, so clearly it needs to be stronger.” Raphael said, clearing his throat by pounding his chest.

A vein visibly twitched on Donatello as the younger turtle seethed; Leonardo could almost see steam coming out of the softshell’s ears! Donatello took a deep breath in, standing up a little straighter and closing his eyes before brushing past the situation quickly.

“Fine. That’s fine. Everything’s fine. I can just build another one.”

“Did you happen to see where the signal was before Raph got hungry?” Leonardo asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I saw where the signals were.” At the confused looks he got, Donatello explained further. “It was picking up five different signals, which we could have followed individually if someone hadn’t have eaten the tech!”

Raphael burped. “Oops.”

“You know what? No, it’s fine.” Leonardo shook his head, “We have a few hours before daybreak, we can go check it out and find our world hoppers. Suit up.”

“You’re lucky I have photographic memory…” Donatello grumbled.

At Leonardo’s word, everyone started to reassemble their weapons, hiding shurikens in their pockets and dawning their usual protective gear and various trinkets; Michelangelo had taken to emulating his bigger counterpart, though the chains he wore were much smaller and the sunglasses had the lenses popped out so he could see better. Donatello, as usual, stacked on as much tech as he could feasibly carry without struggle, and Leonardo made a point of tying his uneven mask tails into what could resemble a chonmage.

Raphael was glad he hadn’t gotten comfortable enough to take off his prosthetic shell; though he had grown used to the heavy titanium, polishing it to sheen nightly and sharpening the spikes to dangerous points, putting it on was always a task and a half. He patted his waist to make sure his most special trinket was still there, and it was. They were ready and were already on the move within minutes.

***

Swears melted off of Raph’s tongue like butter on a hot pan. The fall hadn’t hurt, but it certainly wasn’t comfortable with all this debris collapsed on top of him! He was able to lift the wood with ease once he had gained full control over his tingling body, every plank he moved releasing a new cloud of dust. He brushed what remained of the pigeon coop off and was finally able to stand up. Raph coughed and rubbed his eyes against the sting of irritation, gathering saliva up in his mouth so he could spit and try to remove the bitter taste of dirt; it helped, somewhat.

“Great.” Raph muttered, looking around, “Where am I now?”

“Raph.” A familiar, urgent voice called out to him, “Raph!”

“Leo?” Raph looked around until his eyes settled on Leo the next building over, peering over a parapet. When Leo saw Raph had spotted him, he waved his brother over. Raph shook off what remained of the dust and was able to clear the gap between the buildings with ease. “You see Mike or Don anywhere?”

“No.” Leo shook his head. “Have you?”

“No, that’s why I’m asking you.” Raph snapped, and then rubbed his head with a frustrated snort.

Leo took a slow, loud breath and cupped his hands over his face. Then he quickly puffed the breath out and said, “It’s gonna be fine Raph; we’ll find em. Remember when the smaller us’s first came to our world? They— they were all scattered around the city. The same thing probably happened to us, right? Shouldn’t be too hard to find them.”

“Valid hypothesis.”

Raph shouted, immediately grabbing for his sai as he fell back. Leonardo began to snicker as he joined Donatello at the front of the group; Donatello was smirking at successfully scaring the larger box turtle.

“Don’t do that!” Raph snarled, and then started to laugh weakly. “I coulda tossed your ass like salad.”

“I’d like to see you try, big-buff-bimbo.”

Raph almost choked. “What’d you just call me, eyebrows?”

“Do not insult the eyebrows!”

“So y'all finally came to visit huh?” Raphael beamed. He shoved his way through Donatello and Leonardo so he could take point.

Leo and Raph had to pause a moment to fully take in the form of Raphael; it seemed every time they met up, the snapper only got bigger and bigger! Now his size would have certainly surpassed even the height of Donnie, and in musculature he was very similar to Raph, though with a much broader head and beak. The wounds he had suffered on the day they first met had long since healed, a long silver slash across Raphael’s eye and jaw; that side of his maw never seemed to fully close anymore, and every so often his tongue would slip out or he would have to wipe away excess saliva.

Michelangelo had hardly changed at all, except for getting taller, which now demoted Leonardo to being the shortest brother. His face was still plump with baby fat, his shell still decorated with stickers and paint that covered up a plethora of scars and cracks, both new and old. Donatello hadn’t changed much either; a little taller, a little bulkier, and with more tech littering his body.

Leo sucked in a sharp, sudden breath when he saw Leonardo. It was clear that Leonardo, though his face was still bright and eyes glinting with mischief, had gone through some great trauma within the past year; cut across his chest were three very distinct slash marks, deeper and much worse at the bridge of his plastron where the damage was so severe that it showed the flesh beneath that would have usually been hidden by shell. The worst of the gash wasn't very extensive, quickly thinning and leading inward to Leonardo’s belly before fading away into lightning-like cracks across the upper plastron. His arm was covered in similar graying scars that ripped across the muscles, his hand tucked against his chest like it still needed to be cradled in a cast.

“HUGS!” Michelangelo jumped across gap and into Raph’s arms, giving a series of excited clicks as Raph naturally fell to cradling the smaller box turtle.

“How you doing, little man?” Raph laughed, rubbing Michelangelo’s head, “Lovin’ the bling!”

Michelangelo smiled proudly, puffing out his chest to better show the golden chain. The rest of his brothers covered the distance, Raphael laughing as he pulled Raph into a tight hug, both of them making a show of squeezing the other as strongly as possible.

“Leo.” Leo said to Leonardo with a bow of his head.

“Leo~” Leonardo repeated with a smirk, returning the bow. “So you guys visiting?”

“Not exactly.” Leo went on to explain. “Guess me and Raph just got spit out at the same place.”

“Right.” Raphael took a deep breath as he nodded, “Right. We can— we can handle this, right team?”

Leonardo, Donatello, and Michelangelo gave a shout of agreement.

“Right. Donnie, you remember where those other signals were?”

Donatello nodded and tapped his head. “Got ‘em all up here.” With that, Donatello led the way while the rest of the assorted turtles followed quickly.

“Hey big guy!” Raph said as he kept a steady pace with the snapping turtle. “Didn't get a chance to ask you last time, but what’s up with the fundo?”

Raph motioned to the golden and orange trinket that Raphael had weeded through his belt. Raphael looked down at it, then back up at Raph with a wide, toothy smile.

“It’s a yo-yo actually. Mike gave it to me! Said I had something of Donnie’s…” Raphael pointed back at the metal part of his shell, “Something of Leo’s…” He motioned to the scar over his eye that somewhat resembled Leonardo’s markings, “Just needed something of Mikey’s to complete the set.”

Raph found himself grinning ear to ear. “That’s great.”

The whole journey, Leo couldn’t stop staring at Leonardo and the new scars that his younger self had suffered during the period of no contact between their worlds. Leonardo was acutely aware of the stare but made no point of showing it; of course Leo would stare! Who wouldn’t stare at such a handsome stud of a mutant? Leonardo smirked at his own inner compliment and laughed which, to anyone outside of his own head, might have made him seem insane.

Donatello brought them first to an alleyway, strewn with trash and cast completely into darkness with nothing but shadows around them. Then one of the shadows melted and moved, and Donnie made himself known. After a quick reunion with his brothers as well as a meet and greet with the other turtles, they were on the move again.

They found Splinter hiding out in a storm drain just below the streets; the old rat was overjoyed to see his sons and he greeted the younger turtles with just as much sincere love. Gentle paws stroked and soothed and greeted before they were once more on the search seeking the final missing turtle.

@brightlotusmoon @selfindulgenz @digitl-art-monstr

#beyond the bay #updated turtle designs #they’re older now!#Mikey is 16 #Leo and Donnie are 17 #Raph is 18 #bay turtles are 22 #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt au #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #bay turtles

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vivifrage · 3 years

Note

Hm! How about “Dying isn’t so bad.” With PK and whoever else, I’ll let you decide!

Just for you: old(?) coots giving advice. Archivist!PK AU

---

It wasn't often multiple gods gathered in one place. Rarer still when one opposed the others. Not strongly enough to cause real trouble, but enough for a distinct tension to fill the sweet, sap-scented air in the White Lady's hideaway.

"Oh, Hornet dear!" Grimmchild - he just went by Grimm now but Hornet refused to acknowledge that the fiery brat had grown up - waved with a little twinkle of his fingers. A wide, toothy grin spread across his maw, the flames in his eyes dancing gleefully. "How is my favorite sister? Or is it auntie, again?"

While he scratched his chin in false thought, the Pale Wyrm rubbed the spot between his eyes, dark lids squeezed shut. He was, as expected, in his beloved's lap, upper body resting against hers, tail coiled around himself. Even though she was the semi-mortal one, the one who had to do things like grow up, she swore he looked older and more tired every time she saw him. Then again, the darkness under his eyes and the slump to his shoulders might have been dealing with Grimmchild, too.

The White Lady herself gave her a pleasant, if strained, smile. In the years since she had first bound herself away her husband had finally convinced her to free enough of her roots to serve as arms, at least, and she had both wrapped tightly around him. Like he couldn't defend himself from one annoying Nightmare vessel. (Though, considering what they both had done, Grimmchild certainly had strings to make them dance a little puppet jig by.) "What brings you here, child?"

Hornet gave a wry smile at that and shook her head. Over the years, she'd come to accept her stepmother's pet name, as much as she'd kicked and fought about it when she was young and so determined to prove herself to a world where there was finally people to prove something to. These days, she'd take a little cooing. "A question, actually, that you three would be most fit to answer, and I appreciate the serendipity of you all being together."

The Pale Wyrm scoffed. Grimmchild cackled.

Hornet ignored them and spoke on, fingertips drumming on her arm. "One of the children Hollow watches asked them what death was like. They relayed the story to me, and I said I would get some answers. So, now I ask you: what is death like?"

In another crowd, this question might have ignited the tension, or made it more of a damp, clinging awkwardness. Hallownest had not quite shaken all their taboos around death and dying. Here, instead, the tension eased as each turned their thoughts inward, mulling the question.

Grimmchild spoke first, smiling so wide he couldn't keep his eyes open. "Dying isn't so bad."

The White Lady, for once, nodded in agreement. "It is a natural aspect of life. Death nourishes new life. To fear it is to fear one's own nature."

The Pale Wyrm hummed a deep, rumbling note. "The change of death is an uncertain one, but necessary."

For a moment, Hornet considered remarking upon the hypocrisy of the immortal rulers of the would-be Eternal Kingdom of Hallownest saying that. But she figured arguing now was not worth her time, and she would give them the benefit of the doubt that they were putting some effort into self-reflection. Her father in particular had made leaps and bounds of progress since the only thing he had to be in charge of was one building and his students.

"Why, the intensity of the final dance is a sight to behold! It is a desperate clawing to survive in the face of inevitability, only for, as dearest Grandmother says, new life to triumph in the resulting feast."

"Decay is an extant form of life."

"My first death was a lonely one. Choking on your own egg while your body shuts down is not a pleasant way to go, but I at least had the time to make that decision and let my age claim me, rather than the violent deaths of most of my kindred."

Hornet rubbed between her eyes. "Death. What is death itself like."

"Oh," the Pale Wyrm said.

Silence fell again as the three contemplated.

Again, Grimmchild spoke first. "Death isn't so bad."

(Send me prompts!)

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killian-whump · 4 years

Note

So who in the Coven of Colin or Coven of Hooks (Are they separate covens or the same one?) would be most likely to bang intelligent lifeforms of outer space? Not counting Gordo, cause that answer's obvious so it'd be cheating.

Well, the Coven of Hooks is a subsection of the Colin Character Coven. Like, when the Colin Character Coven gathers for meetings, only one Hook is allowed to attend. Otherwise, things get way too piratey and sexy and murdery for everyone else. Also, it’s a well-known fact that Kraken-san can’t resist congregations of two or more Killian Joneses in one place, so it’s important to keep the Hooks down to one (1) for the anal integrity of all those involved. Also, due to the relative importance and prevalence of the Hooks, as a group, they tend to also moderate most of the meetings, for better or worse.

And for those wondering, the standard present-day Killian Jones from Storybrooke is usually the Hook that gets sent to the Colin Character Coven meetings - though they do occasionally send other Hooks instead, particularly if its a themed meeting or the topic of discussion is something one Hook feels a little more strongly about than the others.

Case in point - this discussion right here. For some reason, it appears that Old Hook has decided to attend this meeting on behalf of the Coven of Hooks. Let’s take a peek in at the meeting. I believe they’re taking the final poll now...

Rowe: No. Brendan: I’m not weird, but yes. Peter Sheerin: Eh, why not? Jamie: No, but can I write a story about one of you doing it? Conor Elliott: Erm... No? (he’s on his meds this week) Security Guard: It’s tough, it’s tough. Duke Philip: I shan’t be partaking, gentlemen. Ben: No. No. Michael Kovak: Is that like a demon? Mark: YES. Michael Kovak: Then no. Been there, done that, didn’t enjoy it.

Crickets: *chirping quietly for several moments*

Old Hook: At any rate, I would. In fact, I mis-read the invitation. I thought we were gathering here to do exactly that, and while I appreciate the free donuts, I have to say I’m pretty disappointed, lads. Mark: You skipped me. Old Hook: No we didn’t. You said, and I quote, “YES” - in all caps, even. Mark: I was answering that Michael nerd’s question! Old Hook: Ah. Right. Well... Mark: My answer is NO. In all caps. Hell no! Aliens exist, and they’re absolutely terrible, murderous, disgusting beasts with gaping, toothy maws and one fucking ATE MY FACE OFF. Old Hook: Right. But you see, I’m using pen here... Mark: What’s that got to do with anything?? Old Hook: Well, I’d have to scribble out your YES, you see, and it would just make everything look much less neat. Michael Kovak: Neatness is next to Godliness. Mark: Nobody asked you! Jamie: Can we stay on topic here? I’ve had a lot of coffee today, and I just feel like there isn’t really a story here, after all. Old Hook: *coughs* So Mark stays with the YES and- Mark: No he doesn’t!!! You change that right now! Old Hook: But it’s pen... Mark: Listen, old man... Unnamed Lumberjack: *stands up* *opens his mouth to say something* *decides not to* *shakes his head and sits down*

Crickets: *still chirping softly in the ensuing silence*

Old Hook: Next is... Brennan Sullivan? Has anyone seen Brennan? Rowe: He’s out back, puking. Everyone, including the Crickets: *siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh* Michael Kovak: It’s that Nora again, isn’t it. Old Hook: Well, unless she’s an alien- Mark: She’s not. I keep telling you people, aliens are real and I know exactly what they look like, because one fucking ate my goddamn face right off and- Old Hook: I’ll put Brennan down for “no” then. Mark: Oh, sure! You’ll put that loser down for a no, but you thought I’d say yes to fucking one of those things?! Conor Elliott: Ah... You do recall trying to sleep with each and every one of our girlfriends at one point or another, right? Peter Sheerin: The git even tried to bang me sister. Mark: Yeah, but I wouldn’t- Old Hook: Well... according to this official coven document, you would. In all caps, even. It’s written in pen.

Crickets: *chirp out little tiny cricket laughs at Mark’s expense*

Old Hook: Lets carry on, shall we? Where were we... Professor Harrison: Well, I wouldn’t have sex with an alien. I doubt they’d know anything about how to please a man like me in bed. Hisirdoux Casparan: I don’t really think it’s fair to judge an alien species and decide whether or not I would find them attractive or worth pursuing romantically without having met one of them and gotten to know them properly... Mark: You’re a 900-year-old virgin. Hisirdoux Casparan: *gasp* You take that back! Mark: You don’t even deny it. Hisirdoux Casparan: I am on a children’s show! Mark: Exactly. 900-year-old virgin. Hisirdoux Casparan: *frowns* *starts chanting quietly*

Crickets: *chirp nervously*

Elder Peter: God frowns on sex with alien creatures. In the scriptures... Michael Kovak: Here we go. Elder Peter: In the scriptures... it says- Michael Kovak: They’re not scriptures if you just wrote them on a napkin twenty minutes ago in the bathroom. Elder Peter: I am God’s mouthpiece. My word is gospel. Michael Kovak: You’re a loony, is what you are. Old Hook: What do I put him down for, then? Mark: I don’t know. If it’s a fully grown female, he’ll probably try to marry it in a lake and hump it, so put him down for a yes. Old Hook: Done. J.J., do you have a response? J.J. Sneed: OW, goddammit. Old Hook: Try to stay on topic, mate. We’re discussing fornication with intelligent alien beings this week. J.J. Sneed: I ain’t got any goddamn knees, you bastard! Every week, y’all ask me some dumb question and I tell you I am in dire need of medical care, and every damn week, you assholes ignore me! Old Hook: Come now, mate. It’s all in good fun. Just give us an answer, so we can put you down in the official poll tally. J.J. Sneed: NO, then. No, I would not fuck a fucking alien. Now can someone please get me to a doctor? I’m bleeding out here! Conor Elliott: I tried to drive you to the clinic just last week. You stole my wallet and drove off in my car, laughing out the window about what a pansy ass I am. J.J. Sneed: Now you listen here... Old Hook: Well, that’s everybody then! Meeting’s adjourned. Michael Kovak: We didn’t ask Gordo. Old Hook: Yes, well, the Ask specifically said, “not counting Gordo” so I think it’s acceptable that we leave him out of it this time around. Besides, he’s not here right now. Ben: Uh... where is he? Old Hook: It seems he’s on a “date” with a space kraken of some kind. He sent along his apologies on a card emblazoned with the word “YOLO” on it.

Absolutely No One: *is surprised*

Hisirdoux Casparan: *stands abruptly, knocking over his chair* Appearium Facade Masticating Extra-Terrestrionus! Alien from Storage 24: *appears as if summoned by a master wizard* Mark: *screams and runs away, chased by the alien* Hisirdoux Casparan: See if he calls me a 900-year-old virgin again...

#colin character coven #kw fanfic #sorta #whatever it is it's #oc #and #my attempts at humor #anonymous #kw ask box

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greekbros · 4 years

Text

"greek-Bros: The Return of an Old Enemy"

Chapter 4: Into the Wolf's Den

After his encounter with Artemis and Hermes, the wolf creature shambles back to a small entrence way into Mount Parnassus. Through rock and dirt, climbing up and down a corridor of stone, he desends down deep into the earth, back to his accursed master.

As it haphazardly turns around to make full sure of himself that he wasn't followed, he faces a large cavern gate, made from wood scavenged from the surface. Symbolically guarded by two crudely made statues of snarling wolves cobbled together with bits of scraps of pottery, wood and metal.

Due to his fatal injuries, he's slowly dieing from wound. Inspite of reanimating, he doesn't have too much time until the magic that keeps him half-alive wears off. Inhaling the damp, musty cave air, he let's out a long low howl, alerting the guards at the gate. The first guard, probably on his first day on the job, pokes his head through the gate wall much like a dog would stick its head trough a hole in wall.

"YESH, PASSWORDSH?" the young gaurd in a gruff toothy voice. He looks down and sees that there was no time for passwords, the wolf at the gate was fading fast. "HEELP! WALKN DAED! He clumsily shouted.

The dieing wolf started to cough up blood and fluids. He barked in agony for assistance to come faster. As he was swaying back and forth, two other wolf-men dressed up in hoplite armor carrying a patchwork stretcher come trough a hidden door build on the left of the gate, nearly indistinguishable from the panels of wood around it. They assist the wounded wolf man on to the stretcher, hastily going through the door.

The young gaurd wolf struggled for a second to unstick his head from the hole, but successfully gets free. He scampers towards the two soldier wolves, sneaking past his boss and fellow gaurds, he avades being seen by the others as his child-like curiosity and excitement to hear news from the surface. He passes down the subterranean paths and bridges, entangling the vast width of the cave, passing by makeshift markets, mining carts, runs past other wolf-folk, squalored in the dark damp cave. After navigating the rafters of a place loving called "Lycadia", he secretly arrives to a little ledge over looking the more elaborately constructed throne room of the ruler of this dark new underworld, King Lycaon. Alas, six other equally immature wolf-folk had the same idea and took his best spot, so he tries to squeeze a little towards the floor of the ledge to get a better look at what could possibly happen.

Down in the thrown room, the two hoplite wolves present King Lycaon the dieing scout. After so many decades, time has been cruelly kind to Lycaon, he still wore the royal robes he had on that faithful day, but now....the robes adorned a man no longer, but gnarling old wolf. His eyes glowed a sickly gold, his fur was dull with age but combed and clean, inspite living the rest of his life as an animal...he certainly did not want to live the squalored life of one. Lycaon, huntched down on his throne, snarled at the sight. "Wwwhat happened?" He growled. He got up from his throne, with every step followed by a tiptap of his claws and the jangling of the stolen jewelry and gold that he adorned. "How DARE....you comeback without any new tributes from.....grrrrrrr.....the surface." Said through a snarled teeth.

One of the hoplites, sheepishly interjected considering his fallen brethren was not fully capable of speaking. "Um...your highness, he was injured in...b-bbattle." he stuttered in fear of what Lycaon would do to him for defending a lowly scout. He points to the scout's mouth and neck, where Artemis's arrow had penetrated. The scout however, was fading fast, wheezing as the dark force keeping him alive was slowly abandoning him.

Lycaon glared at the scout with daggers in his eyes, furious that he had failed his mission. "Grrrrr, figures. You should be grrrreatful that you're even here.....the prRRRrrrivilege of laying your eyes on your KING....for the last time...now...tell me....." he snarls as he takes out a tiny vile and gently drops a miniscule droplet into the scout's mouth, just to give him a little more life to relay the information he had.

The scout's mouth burned as soon as the liquid touched his tounge, at first wheezing from the hole in the back of his throat, now healing over, letting him cough and scream. This wouldn't last too long, he was dead prior to arriving, so this was just to relay information. "Master, I-I was fofofffollowing the moon goddess" he struggled to speak.

Lycaon listened carefully.

"I-I...I was clossse, to capturing herrrrr....ssssshe was so clossse....until.....the messenger came. Warrrnnnnned her." He continued.

Lycaon his snarl worsened with anger, he knew exactly whom the scout was referring to. "Go onnn...or I'll put you out of your pathetic misery....." He threatened.

The scout coughed, just as fast as the liquid restored him, he slowly fading fast. "But.....I have good news....out numbers....grow...more and more...new citizens....will join....our....ranks...the gods....are unaware.......long...live...king Lycaon.", with the scout's last words, he breathes his last. Dieing on the floor of the throne room.

Although it was not much, King Lycaon was satisfied with this...but it doesn't stop him from being unsatisfied. He dramatically turns around, "Throw his body into the consumption pit. It will keep those BEGGERS away for a bit." He coldly commanded. "How many in our army?".

The hoplite wolves immediately went into attention, "400 men and soldiers, my Lord. All varying from all across Greece, even a handful from Persia and Rome." One replied.

Lycaon, glared back at the hoplite. "Women?" He asked.

"12, your highness. 5 priestesses among them", the one replied.

A sick and perverse smile crawled across his maw, licking his lips for what the prospect of comes from taking virgin priestesses, "exccccccellent....I suppose.....the number of....'new blood'....has risen?", the tyrant king continued.

The hoplite wolf, slightly uncomfortable with having to tell this information, "um...yes my Lord...74 young children...ready for conversions." He responded.

King Lycaon, let's out a small inconsequential chuckle but slowly that chuckle grows in volume and intensity, it grew into a mad cackling. As the caves echoed with his evil laughter, howls can be heard reverberating from all corners of Lycadia, the waves vibrated and boomed throughout, as if the whole mountain would explode from the conchophony of wolves. He stops, and turns to the hoplites, "...wwwhHat are you two... STILL doing HERE! Rrrremove that pile of useless flesh from my throne room! And send some one here to cleeeean this spot....a king must be prrrresentable....to introduce....the new generation of LYCANS to Lycadia....once we our numbers grrrow....we shall convert ALL of Greece, than....hmhmhmhmhehehHAHAHAHAH!....the world...now....GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!" He dramatically finished.

The two hoplites scrambled to to take the corpse and drag it to the consumption pit, where the lower caste lycans scavenge for food. The cruel king, claimed up to his throne to rest his old bones. He has been ruling Lycadia for less than two centuries, outliving any possible living decent that could even remember Lycaon. He believed, once his plan would come to fruition, he will be king of far much more than Lycadia.

The lycan youths, satisfied with the display of King Lycaon's authority, all leave the ledge to go back to whatever they were doing. The head guard was there too, tapping his foot in disapproval of the young gaurd's unprofessional behavior. All of the young welps had left....with the exception of one very young pup. Who seemed to have decided to be curious about "the surface". Unlike the other welps, he wasn't converted, he was born in Lycadia, roughly six years of age, he was rearing for a more exciting adventures. All of Lycaon's talk of this world above his stony world, had him thinking about exploring. As he scampered through out possibly the same path as the young gaurd, he sees the big wooden gate. Like an inconspicuous mouse in a vast garden, he's unnoticed by the guards, granted a good mix of them probably weren't gaurd's prior to conversions. The pup slipped through a little opening in-between to large logs, trotted off to new horizons.

After to what the little pup felt like forever in his whole, he finally catches a glimpse of the 'surface'. He sees the sunset, just slowly about to retire to leave room for moon, although he couldn't understand why the big bright thing sank into the horizon, he knew it was too bright for him to like, the little pup thought he would go blind the moment he saw the sun for the first time. However, time was on his side to give him a small taste of daylight before the night came, giving him the gift of moonlight for the little pup to explore in more suitable light. This whole new world was filled to the brim with smells and sounds the pup would have never dreamed of, he drinks in the sight of this little patch of forest, extending his little pawed hand to touch grass for the first time, feeling it's cold but pleasantly prickly blades. His tail, too small for it to be considered a tail but some older lycan's standards, wags uncontrollably, the little pup knew this bold new world was ripe for adventure. Without looking back at the cave entrence, he darted through the grass, off to an adventure.

End of chp4

#hermes #Lycaon #greek-Bros #greek bros #greek mythology #chp4 #greek bros: the return of an old enemy #short story #bippity boppity hes your antagonist-oppity #man i need a drink #artemis #zeus #blood of zeus #hellenistic #greek myth

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sinfromlokislair · 5 years

Note

Naga boyfriend x Reader where the naga coils up around the listener when they get anxiety. But when that doesn't work, gobbles them up for a tighter and warmer option?

can’t exactly say i wrote an anxious reader, but i did what i could. honestly i was feeling tired when i wrote this, so that’s probably what inspired it.

fic below. contains safe vore, soft vore, and willing prey

“What happened today?” He asks when you return home, drop your stuff at the door and fall right into his coils. “Boss demanding you work late again?”

You let out a groan in response. For the past three weeks, your life has been nothing but work. That promotion had been just what you’d dreamed of, until it wasn’t, until your boss had you stay two extra hours on top of your eight. Every night you came back exhausted, barely able to cook yourself dinner before passing out on the couch.

Or in your boyfriend’s coils. Interspecies relationships weren’t the most uncommon, though you can’t say that your parents didn’t frown upon your choice of boyfriend. All they’d ranted about was how he might get hungry one day and eat you, that nagas could become notorious man-eaters when left alone. You’d thought it all complete nonsense, especially considering you had a friend dating a vampire who you knew loved their blood a little too much.

Your boyfriend, though? You couldn’t see a single thing wrong with him. So what if he turned into a twenty foot serpent at the waist? You thought his brown scales and white belly were lovely, and his thick tail made for an excellent pillow.

Said tail shifted beneath you as he ran a claw through your hair, tucking a few strands out of your face. “Another one of those, huh.”

You sighed long and hard and propped yourself up on your elbows, meeting his brown slit eyes. “And I went in thinking it’d be slow, too, since it was raining.” You plop your head back down onto his scales. “I’m so sick of working.”

His tail shifted beneath you and his arms wrapped around your upper body, slowly lifting you up before setting you back onto his coils. This time, he’d adjusted so they’d wrap around you, holding you in a gentle hug as he himself settled back, leaning on his tail. You let yourself relax and settle in, surrounded by the subtle movements of snakeskin.

“I could eat your boss,” he offers in a playful voice. “Then you wouldn’t have to work anymore.”

“Yeah, but then we’ll both have to go on the run,” you mutter back, settling your head on a particularly soft spot. “He’d give you indigestion anyways.”

“You’re probably right,” he yawned, stretchy jaws revealing his rows of sharp teeth and forked tongue. “And he’d taste like shit on top of it. Unlike you.” He winked. You were a little too exhausted to tease him back. He smirked and leaned forward, flicking his tongue out over your cheek before pressing a kiss to it. “Yknow, if you’re that tired, I could make a pillow nest for you. Are you hungry? We’ve got some leftovers from two days ago…” He lifted up, turning in the direction of the kitchen.

“No.” You were very much hungry, but you didn’t feel like it right now. You’d have a bowl of cheetos in the morning or some cereal later in the evening. But for now, all you wanted to do was sleep. And a bed of pillows wasn’t gonna cut it tonight. “Forget a pillow nest. Just eat me.”

He blinks. “Eat you? That was once, and it was—”

“I don’t care if it was an accident.” You fold your arms and cast him a sideways look, full of sleepiness. “It was warm and soft and for just an hour, the world didn’t matter at all. Do it again.”

He looks like he’s about to protest before you pout and turn towards him with your best impression of puppy eyes. Right before you he melts, closing his mouth and letting out a sigh. “You’re sure? You won’t freak out?”

You nod. “You’ve got two stomachs, don’t you?” That was common knowledge. A human stomach for storage, a snake stomach for digestion. He could hold you in his first for god knows how long.

He nods. “But, still, I’m worried that I’d accidentally…you know.” He frowns. “I don’t want to lose you…”

You prop yourself up, struggling to find your feet on moving coils, and reach for his cheek, running your fingers over it. His skin is stark white, just like his belly, and covered in tiny scales which shift with every movement of his mouth. Right now, it’s tugged back in a worried frown, a few tiny fangs biting at it.

“You won’t,” you reassure him, and slip a thumb onto his lips. “You haven’t crushed me in your coils yet, have you? Even during that ‘accident’, you didn’t digest me, and you were literally turning feral from hunger. I know you wouldn’t hurt me, I trust you.”

His eyes well with joy. “You…you really…?” He sniffles, takes your hand in his own and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Well…if you really want me to so badly… Promise me you’ll be okay?”

You snort. “I think I’d be better off in your belly than at my own workplace.”

You get a toothy smile from him in response before he takes both of your hands together and opens his mouth. They’re carefully placed on his tongue, which wraps around them and covers them in a layer of thin saliva before he swallows, sending your hands into his throat. Your arms follow suite before your head is finally brought into his mouth. He tries to open up wider almost, the tips of his teeth just barely grazing you as your entire head is taken in, his tongue flicking over your cheeks and leaving thin trails behind.

You close your eyes and let yourself be swallowed, the warm flesh of his esophagus opening to pull you in. It’s swift to close around you, tight but not uncomfortably so, tugging you downwards with each gulp. The slick walls rub more saliva onto you, easing your descent as your boyfriend swallows more and more of you.

As you are pulled deeper, you can feel him working on your chest, enjoying your flavor as he licks all over you. A moan echoes around you as you slide deeper, rivalled only by the loud beating of his heart right by your ear. A slight smile creeps across your face as your hands pass through a tight sphincter, opening the way for your head to pop into his first stomach.

It’s dark in there, too dark for you to see as more of you emerges into him. Your hands press into the bottom of it, and you’re forced to fold them as your head slides in. Now your chest is being squeezed down his esophagus, only your legs still outside of his mouth. You idly wiggle your toes, wondering if he notices it, and receive a gentle pat on your head in response.

Then he tilts his head back, and your chest slides right into his gut. The rest of you, aided by gravity, joins it, but he stops at your calves, holding one tenderly to lick and take in more of your taste. You can’t help but giggle at the tickling sensation, at which he freezes before finishing his task.

Your legs fall right in, slicked up in his maw and offering little resistance to his throat. Before you’ve even settled into position his hands are around you, feeling for your head.

“Are you okay?” He asks, though his voice is a little muffled through the flesh. You give him a playful tap and stretch a bit, trying to get into a comfortable position.

“I’m alright,” you answer, finally deciding to curl up. “Don’t worry about me. It’s warm and soft in here, there’s no physical way I could hurt myself.”

“Are you sure?” He still sounds worried, so you reach out with one hand and rub at the soft wall. It feels like wet silk beneath your hands.

“I’m sure,” you affirm, closing your eyes. “Thank you…I feel like I could stay in here all day.”

“Um…I don’t think that’s the best decisiOUUUURP!” He tenses around you, and you already know he’s blushing. A laugh escapes you as you rest your head back.

“I think that’s my cue to stop talking,” you say, closing your eyes. “Now I think I’ll—” Yawn “–take a nap now…”

You didn’t catch what he said in response, for you were already drowsy from effort, and the heat, combined with the gentle heartbeat about you and the soft chamber you were now tucked in, worked against your conscious. In no time at all you were asleep, with your boyfriend coiled protectively around his belly.

#soft vore #safe vore #my writing #requests #willing prey #fluff essentially #enjoy #hope u like it

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idesofrevolution · 5 years

Photo

For @thehopefulenemycollection. Waited wayy too long. It’s unacceptable. This is my first Body Swap story, so bear with me.

I snapped a pic, knowing full well that somewhere, somehow, Will would know I’m enjoying every moment in his body. The transition was difficult, for sure, but it seems we’re adjusting pretty well to our new lives. In fact, I think he’s taking it rather well. I imagine you’re trying to decipher just what the hell I’m talking about. It’s a bit of a windy, twisty tale. So I’ll start from the beginning, try to keep up.

I’d been Will’s supervisor for a while. When they told us we’d be taking on new employees, my mind immediately went to the incomparable irritation of training some new brat that’s fresh out of school. That’s how it’s been before, and I just was not interested in wasting my time with an entitled little brat. So imagine my surprise when this tall glass of milk walked through our doors. He was attractive, smart, sweet... And, God save me, Australian. To say I was enamored with him is an understatement. Fortunately, he was a quick learner, and adapted to his position quickly. He was honestly a delight to train and a lovely addition to the workplace dynamic.

Over the following weeks, we’d forge a bond. I can only imagine the gossip behind the scenes: a thirty year old bisexual black guy and a twenty one year old Aussie bro. The optics were hard for some to accept, but for us, we didn’t care. We felt some sort of a connection- despite our differences in upbringing, lifestyle, and just about every demographic.

We told eachother everything. Open communication helped build a rapport where we could speak our minds without fear of judgement or prejudice. I’d vent about being a thirty year old virgin, in love with a girl I’d never be able to get. He’d talk about his struggles with being young: never being taken seriously by anyone. Never having the opportunity to flourish. And one night, our conversation was the deepest it could have ever gotten.

We’d been the last two out of work, as he was finishing up the menial tasks I’d given him, he walked into my office with a bottle of Hennessy and two glasses. I was elated. As he sat down in the chair across from me, I poured us a drink. With an obligatory toast, they flowed down the hatch.

“You know, Brad, I don’t know if I wanna stay here.” He looked forlorn, his head hanging low. “I just don’t get the respect I deserve for everything I do. I get everything done every single day, and all I ever get is a thumbs up at best. Nothing I do is ever appreciated.”

“Will, I hope you realize I recognize everything you do. If I didn’t communicate that, I’m sorry.” I reached across the desk, grasping his shoulder. His normally strong, broad shoulders felt limp and defeated. “You do amazing work here, and I’d be so sad to see you go. But you have to do what’s best for you.”

“Man, sometimes I wish I had what you have. A steady job, a full life, stability...” I looked at him quizzically. He wanted what I had? What I saw as a mundane, everyday existence was a goal for him.

“Are you serious? I’d kill for what you have. Look at you, you’re young, attractive, with big prospects and a massive potential.” He looked up at me, a coy smile gracing his face.

“You think I’m attractive, huh?” My face flushed a bright red. Had I shown my card? I’d always felt like something of a mentor to Will, but over the course of our relationship... He was incredible, how could I resist falling into the temptation of lusting after him. “My man, you’re a good looking guy yourself. If I could, I’d give you everything I have if it meant I’d be trading with you.”

Another round of Hennessy, and we kept talking. Kept dwelling on how we’d live our lives if we were eachother. I’d go out. I’d have Sabrina. I’d have use my assets to the fullest. As I outlined my plan of how I’d be an amazing William, he spoke about how he’d go back to my apartment. Enjoying just relaxing, enjoying not worrying about where the next paycheck would go, enjoying feeling stable and sound.

Down the hatch went round three, and by this point, we were slightly inebriated. From what little I can recall beyond slurping down the last remnants of the cognac, we laughed and joked and enjoyed the freedom of eachother’s trust and company. Note how I stated ‘what little I can recall.’ Beyond that point, it was all a blur. What I can recall is waking up the next morning in my office.

My head was throbbing. Pulsating. At thirty, a hangover seldom keeps you down, but this was incredible. I could see stars in my periphery. I lifted myself up from the chair, and walked to the bathroom. Turning the water on, I splashed my face with cold water; only noticing after a few rubs of my eyes that my hands were not my own. They were big, slender... and the dead giveaway: they were white. I stared into my borrowed blue eyes and dropped to the ground. I was Will. Looking down, I saw his long, limber legs and youthful, narrow torso where my average body had once been. I scrambled to my bigger feet, and stared once again into the mirror. His beautiful face stared back.

“What the fuck!” I heard a familiar voice bellowing from my office, it was my voice. “Brad! Where are you?” I bolted past the door and stared at myself examining my dark, ebony hands. “Whoa, whoa... What?” Our eyes met, and it clicked. It was still us, the very same people as before, but reversed.

“Okay, let’s not panic, man.” I tried to calm him with my now velvety Australian accented voice. His response would take me by surprise: he began to laugh. I saw him come over from behind the desk, pointing his finger at me while smiling my wide, toothy grin.

“It happened, Brad! Or, should I say, Will?” Confused by his reaction, I stood there shell shocked. “We wished for it, man. We got what we wanted!” I shook my head, putting my hands on my face. What did it all mean, how could I adapt... The uncertainty was overwhelming. The room began to spin, and within seconds, I hit the ground once again.

When I awoke, ‘Brad’ had taken the liberty of laying me down on the couch. He handed me a glass of water, which I gladly accepted. As I took a sip, I stared at him. Our glances locked. He grasped my head, and pulled me into a deep, passionate kiss. The sensation of feeling my former tongue probing this new mouth, and the expertise in which he used it... It was incredible. The thick lock of lips and intense groping... I’d never been filled with such ecstasy. I felt the virile passion of youth once again, and the mood take over.

He unbuttoned his pants, whipping out the big, dark cock I always dreamed of putting to good use. How could I have ever imagined that he’d be putting it to use for me? I took him into my mouth, savoring the taste of my own former cock sliding in and out of my lips. It was bizarre. It was wrong. But it felt so right in that moment. I groped his pendulous balls, feeling the roughness of pubic hair and the slickness of sweat. Pulling them, fondling them, with each grasp he gasped for air. Within moments, he grabbed the back of my head, and began to thrust into my open maw. Back and forth, back and forth, the tip of his cock pounding the back of my throat.

“Unngh... I... I feel it coming...” The sensation of his warm, silky cum flowing down my throat in streams will forever haunt my thoughts. Burst after burst. As he pulled out, it was literally dripping from my bottom lip, stuck on my stubbled chin. “Holy shit.” He was right. It was amazing. It was unbelievable. And now, it was our reality. As I quietly gathered up my clothes, taking the unabashed sniff of my youthful scent, we smiled at one another. As I departed for his small, garbage apartment, he left in my Ford Explorer.

That brings us to the present. Here in my new apartment, snapping pics of my new self. Sending the cocky pic to Sabrina, if only to mark a late night rendezvous off my bucket list. What could have ended as a cataclysmic catastrophe ended up as the best thing that could have happened to us. In fact, perhaps this is exactly how it was always meant to be.

If you liked this story, please consider supporting my work through my PATREON.

#male bodyswap #racial change #bodyswap #age difference #gay #bisexual #original #takeover #possession

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chainsxwsmile · 4 years

Text

What if, instead of meeting Gollum in the caves, Bilbo meets a certain Troll? (Not much is changed in canon, but this is my first fanfiction!)

---

It had seen him.

But the agony didn’t come.

#my first fanfic here!#bilbo baggins #the hobbit #bilbo #olog hai #olog #an unexpected journey #verse: olog hai #verse: tolkien #bruce the olog

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