Impatient (H/ollow K/night Vore Fic(let?))
Just a little thing based on a trope I’ve seen around occasionally. Figured the idea had potential. Thought of it and felt like writing it immediately instead of leaving it to fester in the idea doc like I usually do, so congration, have a thing
Characters: T/iso, O/ro
Word Count: 1,465
Warnings/Notes: Teasing, Swearing, O/ro being irritable, T/iso being a bit OOC probably, Safe, Soft, Willing Vore (Half-size). To those who follow me for HK content, I’m sorry it’s all T/iso. It’s all just T/iso. I’m stuck in a hole and it’s mostly full of T/iso. Why is he the blorbo. Why do half of my bug blorbos live in K/ingdom’s E/dge. Why-
Ficlet under the cut
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Pale ash crackled underfoot as Tiso trudged through the lower tunnels of Kingdom’s Edge. He shivered lightly as a chill breeze blew past. It’d been a while since he’d been down here, and though he was much more prepared for the cold now than he had been on those first few trips through the area, that didn’t mean he had to like it.
As per usual, he was here for one specific purpose: to visit that ornery Nailmaster who pretended to hate his guts while Tiso did the same (just in a more literal sense). He’d been busy for the last couple weeks, unable to make time to come all the way down to the depths of the kingdom, so this visit was desperately needed. ...Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. He just hoped Oro wouldn’t get all testy at him for making him wait so long. The beetle would deny it if asked, saying that the solitude was far better, but Tiso knew he valued these meetings as much as he himself did. They were similar in that way. With a snort, the ant wondered how anyone managed to put up with either of them.
A few minutes and some practiced dodging around the Great Hoppers later, the ant found himself standing before his.. friend? Acquaintance? Mentor? Sworn nemesis? ...Fuck it, he didn’t really have a good word for it—might as well make something up. He stood before his zucchini’s hut, considering how to best make his entrance. He didn’t spend long mulling over it.
“’Sup, asshat?” he announced, shoving aside the curtain that kept out the ash and planting himself firmly in the doorway. His signature greeting was met with a heavy sigh from the big lug in the center of the room, meditating in his usual spot. It was most likely intended to sound exasperated, but Tiso was sure he could detect a hint of relief in there. Maybe even a bit of fondness, though Oro would say he was deluding himself.
“Hmph,” the Nailmaster began, “so you’ve finally decided to grace me with your presen-”
The beetle looked up at him as he spoke, which immediately proved to be a mistake, as he was interrupted not even a moment later by a long, deep, rumbling growl, loud enough to be heard from where Tiso stood halfway across the building. It took a moment to determine what the sound was. He and the larger bug simply stared blankly at each other while they processed what had just happened.
For the ant, it wasn’t too hard to figure out that the sound was a stomach growl, considering his experience with being in close proximity to such noises. He knew enough to pick out that it was a sound of hunger, specifically. He was sure that Oro could deduce as much with ease, considering he was the one feeling it firsthand. The question that truly gave the two pause was ‘Why?’
Oro seemed to get it first, averting his gaze and instead choosing to stare down a nearby vase like it owed him Geo. Tiso took a bit longer. It was like his emotions came to their conclusion before his logic did, with how he could feel a warmth spreading over his face before his brain even caught up to why. He quickly scrubbed the blush away as soon as he realized, silently thanking the gods that the other hadn’t seen.
Welp, the situation had turned awkward, but he could work with this. Just gotta deflect all the awkwardness (and probably piss Oro off in the process), and things would be like normal.
Loudly clearing his throat, the warrior crossed his arms, leaned slyly against the doorframe, and cocked his head just so. “Damn, didn’t realize you’d be that happy to see me. Maybe I would’ve come back sooner. Cutting straight to the chase this time, huh? Looks like someone’s been getting cravings. You really want a piece of this that ba-”
“Just shut up and get over here, whelp, if you’re so certain of what I want,” the Nailmaster growled.
Got ‘em.
Tiso smirked and started to make his way over, unhurried, keeping his pace painfully casual. It was clear how much the other wanted this, if he wasn’t even trying to deny what, or rather, who he hungered for. He might as well make him wait a little longer; make the most of what little leverage he had.
“So that’s all the welcome I get? No pleasantries, no asking where the hells I’ve been, no spar-”
“We can get to that later.” As soon as the ant stepped within range, he was yanked forward by the arm with a stumble and a yelp. Oro quickly set to undoing Tiso’s armor for him, paying no mind to his indignant protests.
“Where’s all that ‘patience’ and ‘discipline’ you Nailmasters are supposed to have,” the warrior complained, rubbing the pain out of his wrist. “Godsdamn.”
“I’ve waited long enough for your scrawny ass to wander back here, whelp. We both knew this was going to happen, hours of meaningless banter first or not.” With that, the last strap of the chestpiece was pulled free, and the whole thing was tossed aside with a clatter. Rolling his eyes, Tiso leaned over to set his shield more gently atop the pile, then straightened up to give Oro a look.
“Still, it’s not very- mmph.”
He had barely opened his mouth before having to shut it again as his head was shoved directly into the other bug’s gaping maw. “Alright then,” he muttered, crossing his arms. Large hands gripped his sides to push him in further. He went mostly limp and let it happen, well used to the process by now. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as the first swallow occurred, pulling his head into that comforting darkness.
As much as he’d whine and snark about it, Tiso didn’t mind being swiftly tucked away in the beetle’s gut as soon as he got there. Or any other time, really. This was practically the only thing he came all the way out here for. He couldn’t honestly say he didn’t enjoy Oro’s company, and all that other sappy stagshit, yada yada, but they both knew this was their mutual favorite part of these visits. With the way it put them so at ease, it was impossible to ignore.
The ant soon found himself sliding into the Nailmaster’s stomach, and absently started to go through the motions of getting situated. Curling forward, he let himself sink until his back was resting on the floor of the cramped space, then waited for his legs to be released from the esophagus before using all four of his freed limbs to scoot himself into a proper sitting position. That done, he nestled himself into the surrounding walls, all his corners and edges—head, shoulders, knees, and tarsi—fitting neatly into the folds he’d grown so accustomed to. All that was left was to relax and let the motions of Oro’s body knead and push and adjust to his presence until both bugs were as comfortable as could be.
Being in a belly was unlike pretty much anything Tiso had experienced. It had a way of slowing him down, soothing him in a way that nothing else could. Hidden away within another’s insides, he felt insignificant, yet important. Invisible to the world, and yet taking up so much space to the one concealing him. It was serene, almost, and though he’d always thought serenity was a bore, it was also a necessity, providing a much-needed place of rest, safe from all the dangers of the world until he regained the energy to face them head on once more.
He’d really needed this after several weeks of helping restore Dirtmouth with hardly any breaks. He hated how it always filled his head with such sickeningly sweet thoughts, weighing down his mind like they were soaked in honey, but it was a small price to pay in exchange for some of the best sleep one could get. And there wasn’t much to do besides sleep, but he’d take it. He’d need it for the customary spar later; had to show off what he’d been practicing and all that.
He felt a pressure come to rest against the middle of his back. He leaned into it, and it dropped away. Right, there was something he could do to pass the time until he dozed off.
He gave the wall a prod. “You know, if you’re ever that desperate to eat me, you could just come hunt me down, ‘stead of waiting like a damn ambush predator. The surface isn’t that hard to get to.”
“Tiso?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut the hells up.”
“Nah.”
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Fun Fact for those who don’t know: In some contexts, zucchini is another word for queerplatonic partner. The reason for it is quite similar to why Tiso calls Oro a zucchini at the start c:
I was kinda jokingly waiting for when I’d eventually go a full day without getting any notes before making my next post but people keep finding my blog and I felt like writing so eh
heeeeaaaad, shoulders knees and tarsi, knees and tarsiiiiii, eyes and tympanal organs and mouthparts and antennae, heeeaaad shoulders knees and tarsi, knees and tarsi
Thanks for reading! Feedback is greatly appreciated, and criticism is accepted, so long as it’s constructive/respectful. Asks are open.
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DNI NSFW blogs, blogs that post exclusively hard and/or fatal vore, weight gain blogs, proshippers, TERFs, ace exclusionists, etc.
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FFXIV Write 2022 Prompt #6: Onerous (Arukh)
To say that Arukh felt out of place walking amongst the seaside caverns of the Mankhadi udgan and their apprentices was but an understatement of woeful proportion.
Not only had it been the better part of two decades since last he had set foot upon his own people's lands, but even before his Choosing, he had never once walked these hallowed seaside corridors of stone and salt. None did, save for the Storm and the Sea's children. Such was a privilege - or a sentence - afforded only to those like his sister, favored by their gods.
Occasionally, others of means were allowed brief entry when the need to consult with the tribe's advisors and lorekeepers arose. The khan of the Shuurga, for one, but never those of simpler origins such as himself. So whenever he had received the summons to speak directly with the Elder Stormcaller in her own Cloister, Arukh had been shocked.. but not exactly humbled by the invitation, for a host of his own personal reasons and misgivings.
He carried himself with spine straight and rigid as the well-worn blade he had been asked to leave behind before entry would be permitted. His face was a careful mask of neutrality, but the whitening of his scarred knuckles as his hands tightened into fists at his side might have betrayed more emotion than he wished. Not to mention the occasional thrash of the darkly scaled tail that followed in his wake.
If the older man next to him noticed the signs of his irritation, however, naught was said of it. Such was the way of him, as Arukh recalled, never one wont to invoke any manner of unnecessary conflict. Baidu Khan of the Shuurga had led his people through countless storms in his years, ever the steady hand that guided the clan through choppy waters but never the one to rock the boat upon which they sailed.
When Arukh had been but a fresh-faced boy, he had admired Baidu's placid and measured carriage, every bit the image of the calm that lie within the Storm's eye. The Shuurga had always treated him with great respect and reverence precisely because of his even-keeled temper and his wisdom.
Amongst the Kharlu, however, he'd heard no few cruel jests and insults levied at his former leader. Baidu the Coward, as he had heard the Kharlu warriors refer to him on no few occasions, was but the most mild of monikers of which he had learned. Such had irked him, but none had incensed him as much as hearing him denigrated and derided as Bayanbataar's most fruitful whore by one of the Kharlu fighters that had sought to get a rise out of him.
He's given the Khan more children than all his wives combined, the man had sneered as he had poked and prodded for chinks in Arukh's normally impregnable, icy armor. Weak though they are, at least they're good to fall upon the sword in his true childrens' stead.
Arukh wasn't proud of the fact that the man had successfully found a weak spot that cracked his carefully maintained mask of detached apathy. He was proud, however, that he had handily laid his harasser out cold in the dirt in front of his own kin, and left him with a few less teeth in his head besides.
As he fixed Baidu with a sidelong glance of his seaglass eyes, the battle-scarred warrior wondered if those same jeers had ever crossed the coastlands' winds back to his ears. He wasn't sure that even if they had, that the Mankhadi Khan would have done more than accept them in his usual silence. Worse, Arukh didn't know after having spent so much time amongst the Kharlu where might made right, if the thought of him turning the other cheek to the insult impressed him with Baidu's unflappability or disappointed him for its passivity.
"The Elder Stormcaller rarely leaves the Cloister these days," he explained as he escorted Arukh through the winding corridors carved out naturally by thousands of years of sea’s ingress. "Age catches up with her and her health is declining, which is why she has asked you come to her instead of answering your summons. I pray you will not take her request as a slight."
Something about the explanation and roundabout apology struck him, though it took a moment for him to place his thumb on the discomfort's source. It was that he spoke to Arukh with the same cool, careful deference that was normally reserved for the Kharlu anytime they descended upon their camp. Realizing that the other man viewed him now not as a former clansman sharing the bond of blood but as one of their brutal protectors that expected submission made Arukh’s stomach churn uneasily.
Now it suddenly made much more sense why Baidu Khan himself had seen fit to guide him, rather than one of the handful of young apprentice udgan now quickly scurrying out of their way. The last Baidu had seen Arukh had been when he had been surrendered to the Kharlu, and surely he had never expected to see him returned. That he was here again now so many years later must’ve made clear that he had earned his place amongst them, rising from his former slavehood by merit of ferocity. The Kharlu considered him as one of their ilk now, even if he knew they would always view him as lesser. And considering that he had not shared the reason of his calling, the shrewd Khan would naturally be left with only the assumption that Arukh was here on their protector tribe’s behalf than a matter far more personal.
His mouth opened at once to correct those surmised assumptions that Arukh suspected Baidu of harboring, but stopped short. He could not – would not – admit that he had come here upon Ghoa’s request to relay her messages.
No one besides those she had tasked him with reaching could know that Bayanbataar’s Escaped Wife not only lived, but had recently set foot upon coastland soil once more. None could know that she sought to return one day besides. If word were to somehow make its way back to the Kharlu Khan’s ear, his unrelenting hunt for his sister would assuredly alight with renewed intensity fueled by more than a decade’s worth of pent up cruelty and frustration. The Far East had likewise become far easier to traverse in the wake of the defeat of the iron men of Garlemald than it had been when Ghoa had first fled, and so Arukh doubted not that Bayanbataar would send his finest trackers even beyond the Steppe’s furthest borders in pursuit of his greatest humiliation if given the chance.
The already tight fists at his side only tightened further with the knowledge that he could offer no reassurance to Baidu of his intentions without arousing suspicion. It kindled anger within his breast, to know that he would have to continue playing the role of the Kharlu envoy rather than that of the long-lost son of the sea returning to the shores of home. That he would have to endure being treated as an unwanted, untrusted stranger in his own homeland.
What an onerous duty this had suddenly become.. but one he certainly could not begrudge Ghoa for asking. Until Arukh could bring peace to these lands to clear the way for her safe return, it was the least she deserved.
“Elder Unegen,” Baidu announced as the pair reached the corridor’s end, opening into a wide cavernous cove that echoed with the soft churning of the waters pooled at its center and the ever-present drip of moisture off stone that would’ve driven Arukh mad to endure days in and days out. “Arukh Kharlu answers your summons, if you would kindly receive him.”
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