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matan4il · 3 months

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Daily update post:

The IDF's spokesman in Arabic, Avichay Adraee, has shared a vid of a rare demonstration by Gazans, where they protest the ruin Hamas has brought on them, and demand for its leader in Gaza, Yahya Sinwar, to releaste the Israeli hostages.

Regarding the 24 Israeli soldiers killed in Gaza the other day, here are the details to the best of my understanding of how 21 of them were killed in one incident (based on reports on Israeli TV). It seems that the soldiers were preparing a couple of multi-floor buildings to be blown up, because these were close enough to the border, that snipers could use them to shoot at Israeli civilians without even crossing over. The soldiers were laying out the explosives, and there was a tank nearby, guarding them. A terrorist squad came out of a terror tunnel shaft that hadn't been located by the soldiers earlier, and fired an anti-tank missile at the buildings, triggering the explosives, which also caused the buildings to collapse. Every soldier who was inside, was killed. That was how 19 soldiers died. It took hours for a search and rescue team to retrieve their bodies from the rubble (including a group of fire fighters who had to be "drafted" in order to allow them into Gaza). The tank recognized the source of the fire, and was turning to shoot back at the terrorists, but they fired an additional anti-tank missile at it, and killed another 2 soldiers. Out of the 24 soldiers killed, 16 were already buried yesterday.

One of them was 35 years old Elkana Wiesel.

He left a last letter to his loved ones: "If you're reading these words, something must have happened to me. First of all, if I have been kidnapped, I demand that you do not release a single terrorist to free me. Our decisive victory is more important than anything else to ensure our safety, so please keep going full force to make our victory as decisive as possible. Maybe I fell in battle. When a soldier falls in battle, that's sad. But I'm asking you to be happy. Don't be sad when you say goodbye to me. Sing a lot, nourish each other's hearts, hold each other's hands and strengthen each other. We have so much to be proud and joyful over, we are a generation of salvation! We are writing the most meaningful moments in the history of our people and of the world. So please, be optimistic. Keep choosing life, all the time. A life of love, hope, purity and optimism. Look into the eyes of the people you hold dearest, and remind them that everything we're going through in this life is worth it. That they have a lot to live for. Live! Do not stop the powerfulness of life for a single minute! I was already injured during [Operation] Protective Edge. I had the choice to stay back. But I do not regret for a moment that I returned to being a fighter. On the contrary, this is the best decision I've ever made."

May their memories be a blessing.

A report from South African news site News24 claims the International Court of Justice will publish its decision on SA's request for 9 provisional measures regarding the war in Gaza this Friday (Jan 26). Israel says it has not received any official notification on this. In any case, the ICJ will be publishing its decision by Feb 6 at the latest, because that's when the time of several judges at the ICJ will come to an end.

For the second time this month, Israel has stopped Arabs from East Jerusalem, who identify as ISIS terrorists, from carrying out an attack against Israelis. Another terrorist attack was prevented from taking place yesterday, when the terrorist was eliminated

This is 19 years old Shay Levinson.

He was a star volleyball player, who believed in coexistence, was studying Arabic, and chose to play for the Arab team of a Christian Arab town situated close to his own. Here he is (standing third from the left) with his Arab team when they won the state championship:

Shay was believed to have been kidnapped to Gaza on Oct 7. Here are his Arab coach and team manager with his mom Shlomit Levinson (a volleyball player herself), holding up his hostage poster together:

It was confirmed the other day that Shay was murdered by Hamas on Oct 7, and his body had been kidnapped to Gaza, and is held hostage. His coach Sma'an said: "It's a very hard blow. This is a kid who was a part of our family. Our heart hurts. We're not functioning as a team. We're unfocused, we can't concentrate, training sessions have been canceled. We want to be by the family during these difficult days. We champion coexistence, sports brings hearts closer. Our language is common. We don't care about distinctions like Jews, Arabs, Christians, Muslims."

May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack

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deancaspinefest · 3 months

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Books, Pies, and Roommates

Author: seidenapfel | Artist: Kit Shay

Posting on Sunday March 17

Everything seemed so easy when Castiel landed a job in Lawrence as a literature professor at Kansas University. He even found a place to stay with his cousin in Topeka, less than thirty miles away. But the daily commute quickly gets on his nerves and he begins looking for a little room in town. When he finally lucks out on a house, it comes with a catch. His mysterious landlord/housemate works and lives in Topeka during the week, and will only be in Lawrence for the weekend while Castiel is back at his cousin’s to honor a promise he made. When Dean walks into his favorite pie shop, the new sales assistant takes his breath away. Steve is gorgeous, and part of the owner’s family. Dean doesn’t even mind that Steve picks up Gabriel’s stupid moniker for him. After all, Deano has one syllable more, and Dean will do anything to hear Steve’s voice just a little bit longer. Though, as breathtaking Steve might be, he isn't Angel. If only Dean's book-loving best friend for over a decade weren't a mystery in himself — a guy who Dean has only met online, but who has slowly taken his heart away. And it seems that Dean isn't alone in his feelings. When the lines blur and fantasies merge three guys into one, disappointment and heartbreak seem to be inevitable.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“Dude! You did what?”

“I found you a new roommate,” Sam explained and Dean knew his brother was rolling his eyes. “As you asked me to.”

“Yeah, I heard you,” Dean muttered. “And well, I did, but duh? Did you take the first one that came along?

The silence at the other end of the line was enough of an answer.

“Seriously? The first one? You pick the first Tom, Dick, and Harry that walks into my home?” Dean couldn’t believe it. “You didn’t even—”

“His name is Castiel. And he’s nice,” Sam cut in, defending himself.

Nice?

Before Dean could interrupt him, Sam continued, “So, get this, Castiel is actually in the same predicament as you are. He lives in Topeka, but teaches at KU and he’s already fed up with his daily commute to campus.”

“Castiel? What a mouthful of a name is that?” Dean grumbled.

“As far as I know it’s the name of an angel,” his brother answered calmly, taking none of Dean’s shit.

“Angel?” Dean huffed while another Angel came to his mind. Shaking his head to clear the thought away, he went on, “You telling me the guy is some religious weirdo?”

Sam laughed and Dean could literally hear another eye roll. “Don’t worry. I don’t think that should be a problem. Quite the contrary. He seemed very interested in our library. Or, more precisely, /your/ part of the library.”

Dean huffed. “That’s most of it anyway, dude.”

Groaning, Sam ignored him and went on. “I don’t think he realized how obvious he was when he skimmed through the titles of your collection of gay pulp.”

“Hey, it ain’t gay pulp, not all of it,” Dean protested.

“Pulp, romance, literature — whatever. You can’t deny it’s kinda gay.”

Dean laughed before teasing, “Just kinda?” Even though his brother couldn’t see him, he wiggled his brows.

“How would I know? I haven’t even touched half of it,” Sam backpedaled and Dean laughed even louder. “Somehow I need to keep my sanity,” his brother shot back. Then it hit Dean. “Wait, you showed this guy, this—”

“Castiel,” Sam offered helpfully.

“Whatever,” Dean snapped. “You showed him the library?”

“Dean, he lives there now. Of course, I showed him around. Besides, how do you think I should have hidden the shelves in the living room? You’re not very subtle with your interests.”

Subtle? Dammit, it was his home, for fuck’s sake. “Still, the library? And you let him stay? Alone at home?”

“Yes, because that’s what happens when you rent your house, dude.” Dean could see his brother’s bitchface in his mind. “Do I need to remind you that you were the one who asked me to take care of the viewings?”

“Goddammit, Sammy,” Dean grouched. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before giving in, “Yeah. Sorry. I did. But that didn’t mean that you decide who lives with me.”

“I don’t know. He just seemed… perfect.”

(continue reading on Ao3 on Sunday March 17)

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel art #deancas art #pinefest 2024 #pinefest previews #2024 Dean/Cas Pinefest #author: seidenapfel #artist: Kit Shay #Two Person Love Triangle #Roommates #Idiots in Love

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yjhariani · 1 year

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Doon

Task Force 141 X GN!Reader

A/N: Another dedication, this one is for @itzclouding who got me inspired by this post to write this little something about getting influenced by Soap's accent and dialect.

Disclaimer: This is mostly taken from observation by the media I'm consuming. Please, educate me if I'm pragmatically off. I'm not sure how to categorise this one, maybe for non-English native speaker!Reader? For non-British!Reader? Non-Scottish!Reader?

The stages of a human being learning languages started by the listening phase followed by the speaking phase. It seemed that spending quite some time with three English men and one Scottish man got you into those phases unconsciously.

Firstly, of course, you were listening to what they were saying and how they said it. You started stressing a part of a word differently, adapting to whoever you spent the last few days with. Then, you started picking up some slang they were using in the different ways they were saying them.

When you started using them in your own way of pronunciation, they did not actually notice it. It was as if the slang had been part of your vocabulary this whole time.

Things started to get apparent over time. Like the first time you spent a week on a mission with Soap and you returned a different person.

After that mission, the squad members were gathering for a catch up. All of you were about to have a movie night in a meeting room.

“We’re short on food,” Price realised.

“I’ll fetch it doon at the mess,” you volunteered, not realising that you sounded almost identical to Soap.

The whole group turned to you. Soap had gotten used to it and he still looked entertained. Ghost raised an eyebrow under his mask. Gaz let out a scoff of amusement. Price tilted his head a little.

“Doon at the mess?”Soap asked, a smug smile on his face.

“Where else am I getting food, mate?” you replied before making your way to the door.

“Haste ye back,” Soap yelled.

“Aye,” you replied.

As it turned out, your obliviousness was even funnier to them.

“I swear to God, Soap, if you influence them any further, I will kick you in the throat,” Ghost warned.

“I never did,” Soap insisted. “They just picked it up like that time with you.”

“With me?” Ghost repeated, offended.

“Oh, I remember that,” Gaz nodded. “It’s like hearing a more chatty version of you, LT.”

“I can’t believe back then, of anyone, they have to pick up your accent, Simon,” Price said. “You’re already incomprehensible half of the time, having two of you isn’t an improvement.”

“Incomprehensible? You’re talking about yourself,” Ghost replied. “The thing is, we don’t need to suffer dealing with two of Soap.”

“You mean to say, ‘Thank you, Soap, for leading our good friend to a better path’,” Soap said.

“Fuck off,” Ghost scoffed.

“What? Everyone always wants more of me,” Soap said.

Eventually you returned with another bag of snacks, some canned drinks, and a bowl of something the cook could spare. The bowl was immediately snatched by Soap and Gaz exhaled in disappointment.

“You just brought one bowl of that?” Gaz asked.

“I didnae ken you wanted it,” you answered.

Everyone turned to you again. There was a pause before Gaz chuckled whilst the other—save for Ghost—grinned in amusement.

“What now?” Price asked.

“Shite—I mean, shai—shit!” you struggled to respond, realising what just happened before exhaling. “I didn’t know you wanted it.”

Price patted you on the shoulder, still very much amused.

“Oh, come on, you didn’t make fun of Soap after Las Almas and he’s way worse,” you pointed out. “Also that one time Gaz spent too much time with Farah and can’t stop calling people habibi.”

There was a pause.

“So, where do you wanna sit doon?” Ghost asked.

“Fucking bollocks,” you muttered under your breath.

#soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #captain price x reader

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tigertales9 · 2 years

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The Stroke of Midnight

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut / Manhandling / Angst

Description: Summer 2022 in Cincinnati. Things get heated on a hot, humid night in early summer. This takes place a couple months before Joe's appendectomy.

A/N: I've been trying to finish a few Joe fics for several months now. This is the first one I've ever shared. I hope y'all like it.

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You wave good-bye to the last of your guests as they amble out into the warm summer evening; you listen to the steady hum of the crickets for a few seconds, watching as your friends ease into their cars and drive away. After taking one more deep breath of the humid air, you shut the door, leaning your forehead against the solid surface briefly before spinning around to walk back into the kitchen.

You'd hosted a girls' night like you'd done several times before, only this time shit went sideways fairly quickly. Your good friend Shay had arrived early to help set up. As you two arranged appetizers on a couple of large grazing platters, you kept catching her eyeing you with concern. After asking her what was up several times, she finally came clean and asked if you wanted to talk about Joe liking yet another thirst trap pic on insta. She knew you'd laid into his ass about it on two prior occasions and that he had promised not to do it again.

You roll your shoulders to relieve some tension and shake your head in aggravation. Work had been so busy lately that you hadn't even seen the latest slap in the face until Shay pointed it out. Four days ago, your man had done something he'd promised not to do again. Shay had felt awful to be the bearer of bad news, but you'd assured her it wasn't her fault your fiancé couldn't keep his promises.

Girls' night went off without a hitch because you had a rock-solid poker face, but several times during the evening, you'd briefly thought about sashaying down the street to Ja'marr's house where the guys were playing cards; dragging Joe's ass right there in front of everybody would've felt sooo good.

You roll your shoulders again and take a deep breath; luckily for Joe your mama taught you not to air your dirty laundry in public, so here you are -- posted up on a barstool in your kitchen -- waiting for your man to walk in the door so you can unleash hell in private.

About 20 minutes later, you hear Joe coming in the front door, loud as hell as usual. "Babe?" he hollers, kicking his shoes off and dropping what sounds like a bowling balls worth of shit on the hallway table. "I got sooo lucky tonight. The cards were really falling my way."

That's the only way you're getting lucky tonight, you think, chewing on your bottom lip as he strides into the kitchen. "How was girls' night?" he asks, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before turning to face you. He chugs half the bottle while you watch his prominent Adam's apple bob up and down with each gulp. When you don't answer, he sets the bottle down and closes the distance between you. "Mmmm," he moans, leaning down to enjoy the view of your toned bare thighs exposed by your black mini skirt; he slides a hand under your skirt hem to push it higher.

"Joseph!" you snap, swatting his hand away while serving an absolutely withering glare.

He immediately pops back upright. "Uh-oh. What's up?"

You narrow your eyes at him. "Remember those two conversations we had about you liking thirst traps on insta?"

He furrows his brow and thinks about it for a bit. "Two ass chewings, you mean? Yeah, I remember."

"Remember agreeing not to do that anymore?"

"Yes," he snaps, shaking his head in confusion. "We settled that. Why are you dragging it back up?"

"Because you did it again."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did! Someone showed me tonight before I could even take one sip of a cocktail. It totally ruined girls' night."

"Why would somebody do that? They must be trying to make me look bad."

"You made yourself look bad, Joe."

He makes a stank face. "That's bullshit. I don't remember liking any pics recently."

"Let me refresh your memory; four days ago you liked a pic of a blonde woman, smallish boobs, very fit, wearing a pink bra and panties." He furrows his brow for a few seconds, shaking his head in confusion before you stick your phone in his face. "Here's the receipt," you snap.

He grimaces as the memory clicks into place. "Oh shit," he mumbles. "That's Kyle's new girlfriend. She's trying to be an influencer. He asked me if I'd like a pic to drive traffic her way."

"And you just had to like a lingerie pic? There were other pics where she wasn't mostly naked."

"It was the first pic on there," he argues. "I was literally on her page for like 30 seconds." He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly and gives you a bemused look. "I don't know why you're trippin'. She's not remotely my type and you know it."

You shake your head in disgust. "You always have an excuse don't you?" You hop off the barstool and head for the stairs. "Nothing is ever your fault!" you yell, stopping to take your wedge heels off before jogging up the stairs; you slam the master bedroom door then lock it.

A few seconds later, you hear the doorknob jiggle before Joe lets out a stream of curse words. "Open the door," he orders, struggling to keep his voice even.

"Nope!" you snap. "I'm tired of this conversation. Go away and leave me alone!"

"I'm going to ask you one more time to open the fucking door before I kick it in. You have 10 seconds."

You roll your eyes when he starts counting, letting him get all the way up to 9 before slinging the door open. "There! Happy now?"

"Not remotely," he seethes as he strides into the room. "You're overreacting like crazy here. You realize that, right?"

"You're threatening to kick the door in but I'm overreacting? Miss me with that bullshit, Joseph Lee!" You glare at each other for several seconds before you break the tense silence. "Look, I don't want to fight. Just leave me alone."

He shakes his head no and takes a step toward you; you immediately take two steps back and his eyes narrow in frustration. "I want to settle this right now," he states. "You know I don't like to go to bed mad."

"Well, it's not always about what YOU want! In case you haven't noticed there are two people in this relationship," you snap, feeling your anger escalate as Joe rolls his eyes. The audacity, you think to yourself, taking a deep breath to try and calm your thundering pulse. "I need space right now, okay?"

"I think we should talk it out," he counters, crossing his arms across his chest in a way that makes his muscles bulge.

His arrogant stance and refusal to compromise kick your anger into overdrive, and you flash him a predatory smile. "Oh, you wanna talk it out?" you croon, amplifying your smile from predatory to psychopathic. "Have it your way, sweetie!" You give him a contemptuous glare before spinning around to storm into your large walk-in closet. You grab a duffle bag, unzip it and start cramming clothes in as you continue your tirade. "No matter how tipsy or horny I am, I have enough self-control not to like pics from six-pack ab, big dick, banana hammock, oiled up thirst traps!" You sling more clothes in the bag before pointing a finger in Joe's face as he saunters up and leans against the closet door. "Look but don't like; it's not that hard. I do it all the time!"

Joe's eyebrows shoot toward his perfect hairline. "Anytime you wanna see a big dick all you have to do is ask," he boasts, sliding one hand down to cup his ample goods.

"Boy please," you throw him an incredulous look. "I've got tits and ass for daaays, but that doesn't stop you from looking at other women." He opens his mouth to retort, but you plow ahead before he has a chance. "I'm not saying you shouldn't look. It's human nature. I'm saying -- just like the last two times we had this discussion -- it's disrespectful to publicly like thirst traps. If I did it, you would freak the fuck out and you know it!"

Joe doesn't even blink while holding your irate gaze; his calm demeanor makes you want to act out even worse. "I wasn't horny or tipsy when I liked that pic," he says, in an infuriatingly soothing tone. "I was just doing a favor for a good friend."

"Oh, fuck that! Always an excuse!" You drop your bag on the closet floor and walk to your lingerie chest, grabbing several pairs of panties and a few bras. You turn back around just in time to see Joe grab your bag and place it on the top shelf of the closet out of your reach. "Give me the bag, Burrow," you order, narrowing your eyes in anger when he refuses.

"You're not leaving."

"I sure as hell am," you scoff. "You refuse to give me space so I'm leaving. Simple as that." You pull a step stool out of the corner of the closet and place it under the shelf holding your bag; you step up the three steps and grab the bag handle, gasping when Joe wraps both hands around your waist from behind and lifts you off the top step. "Put me down!" you yell, dropping the bag as you squirm helplessly in his strong grasp. He sets you down but tightens his grip on your waist, his long fingers digging in just hard enough to let you know he means business; he lowers his head and presses his lips against your right ear. "Maybe you didn't hear me," he whispers, his hot breath in your ear sending a pulse of arousal through you. "I said you're not leaving."

"I heard you just fine, you big brute!" you snap, slapping lightly at his hands until he removes them. You spin around and glare up at him, for once annoyed that he's almost a foot taller than you and a hell of a lot bigger. You're even more annoyed that your traitorous body is really enjoying the manhandling, damn it! You sling your hair over your shoulder and intensify your glare. "I think it's technically kidnapping if you hold me against my will."

He shrugs his broad shoulders. "Technically, sugar, I don't give a shit. You're still not leaving." His smug demeanor pisses you right off, but you manage to keep your cool.

"I think you need a little reminder, sugar. I might call you daddy in bed but you're not the boss of me!"

His blue eyes flash with equal parts lust and aggravation as he leans down until his nose is almost touching yours. "Still not leaving," he purrs, giving you an arrogant grin that makes you want to scream in frustration.

"Fuck that," you grumble, spinning around and sprinting out of the closet, getting halfway to the bedroom door when Joe catches you from behind. You yelp in surprise as he picks you up and drops you face down in the middle of the king-sized bed, covering your body with his much larger frame. "Get off me!" you yell, trying hard to wiggle out from under him.

"Just relax," he growls, pinning your flailing arms down with an ease that's a little terrifying. "Quit fighting me!" he orders, placing more weight on you until you're almost completely immobilized. Your skirt has ridden all the way up to your waist at this point, mainly due to Joe's muscular thigh wedged between your legs. A jolt of pure lust sizzles through you quickly followed by a jolt of anger. He always does this, you think to yourself, going completely still when you feel his erection against your hip. He can't ever let me be mad at him for a hot minute. Always has to prove he can reduce me to a wet, quivering mess just begging for his cock.

You try to take a deep breath and realize you can't due to 200+ pounds of solid muscle pressing you into the mattress; another shot of anger rushes through you at how helpless you are. "Let me up!" you demand, fully expecting him to comply since you stopped struggling; when he doesn't immediately do it, you break down crying, sobbing even harder when he immediately releases you.

"Shit, baby, I'm sorry." He hops off the bed, putting a few feet of distance between you two. "I didn't mean to scare you. You know I'd never hurt you. I thought we were just messing around."

"I'm not scared, you idiot, I'm pissed!" You push yourself into a sitting position and angrily wipe the tears off of your cheeks. "I'm mad at you and I want to sulk and feel sorry for myself, but you won't leave me alone!" Your tears trail off as you finish speaking. "Instead you're invalidating my feelings and being an arrogant prick!"

He stares at you for several seconds before dropping his gaze to the floor. "I didn't mean to invalidate your feelings," he mutters, running a hand through his hair then tugging on the dark blonde locks in frustration. "But listen, I can't let you storm out of here like this. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you." You open your mouth to argue and he holds up one long finger to stop you. "Let me finish, please. I can't let you leave, but I can give you space. I'll sleep in the guest room tonight if you really want me to. Okay?"

You wipe the remaining tears off of your face and nod yes without meeting his gaze. You expect him to head for the door but he doesn't move.

After several more seconds, you raise your head and meet his eyes. He gives you a thorough once-over, and you feel a pang of self-consciousness. I must look a hot mess, you think to yourself, wishing he would quit ogling you and just leave you alone. Instead, he breaks the silence in classic Joe style.

"Are those new panties?" he asks, nodding at your crotch.

You're struck speechless for a minute; you shake your head slowly and run a hand through your messy hair before speaking. "Let me get this straight. We're in the middle of a fight, and you're asking about my panties? Seriously?"

He shrugs. "Kinda hard for me to miss them since you're wearing your skirt as a belt."

You look down and realize your entire skirt is gathered around your waist, exposing a tiny see-through pink thong. You yank your skirt down and give Joe a bratty smirk. "Yes, they're new. I was going to surprise you with them -- a really naughty surprise -- but that plan got shot to hell."

He slowly runs his tongue over his bottom lip while holding your gaze. "How were you gonna surprise me?" he asks, his already deep voice dropping another octave like it always does when he's aroused.

Not tonight, Satan! you think to yourself, biting your lip hard to distract you from the throbbing ache between your thighs. "Satan?" he asks, one agile eyebrow arching upward. "Shit! I didn't mean to say that out loud," you confess, a sizzle of heat running up your spine at his low, throaty chuckle.

He takes a step toward the bed, his gaze locking onto yours like a heat-seeking missile. "Am I tempting you?" he purrs, flashing a wicked grin as he takes another step toward you.

"No!" you protest. "Okay, yes! Fuck, Joe, you always do this!"

"Do what?"

"You can't just let me sulk for a little bit when you hurt my feelings. You always overwhelm me with all of that!" you huff, using a hand to gesture up and down his tall, muscular frame. "I just really wanted some space tonight, but it looks like you're gonna get your way as usual."

He takes a step back and holds his hands up in surrender. "No sex tonight. Got it. Can you do me one little favor though?"

"What?"

"Tell me, in explicit detail, how you were gonna surprise me with those tiny, see-through panties."

"Why would you want that if we're not having sex?" you ask suspiciously. He shrugs. "Maybe I feel like I should be punished for ruining the naughty surprise. Hearing what I missed out on should do the trick, don't you think?"

"Oh, hell yeah," you tease, mimicking his earlier filthy grin with one of your own.

"Then let me have it."

Your first impulse is to tell him no, but the thought of torturing him a bit makes you change your mind. "You promise not to push for sex tonight? No matter how worked up you get? 'Cause you know I can't resist you."

"Yes ma'am, I promise," he mutters, his cheeky smirk transforming into something milder when you hit him with an unamused glare. "Seriously, I can handle it," he pleads. "Just give me a chance."

"Fine, but first I'm gonna go wash my face." You walk in the bathroom and close the door before quickly stripping down to nothing but your troublemaking panties. You wash your face, tame your hair, then slip on a clingy pink cami that barely conceals your breasts; just before walking out, you run your thumbs over your nipples a few times, making sure they're standing at attention. You smile at your reflection and square your shoulders for battle.

"Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," you say, giving Joe an innocent smile as his hot gaze sweeps over you several times, lingering on your breasts and crotch.

"I'm good," he croaks, clearing his throat as you crawl onto the bed sitting with your legs tucked under you. "Listen," he continues, looking down at his feet as he speaks. "I want to apologize for earlier; you were right." You wait for him to elaborate but he remains silent.

"Right about what?" you finally prompt.

He heaves a sigh before responding. "I would be mad as hell if you liked big dick, banana whatever pics," he mumbles, making a dramatic stank face at the very idea of you doing such a thing.

It takes every bit of your self-control not to jump up and hit the griddy at the fact he admitted you were right, but you play it cool. "Well, I'm glad we're in agreement on that," you mutter.

He finally lifts his gaze to meet yours. "Yeah, me too." He gives you a sheepish grin then walks to the nightstand and picks up a goblet of wine before offering it to you. "I thought you might like a drink since your girls' night got ruined."

"Thanks." You accept the glass of wine and take a few swallows while he looms over you. "You're not trying to get me liquored up are you?" you tease, watching as he walks to an armchair that he's pulled close to the bed. "Nope," he answers, dropping into the oversized chair. "I made a promise and I intend to keep it."

You take a few more sips of wine and watch as he shifts his weight to get more comfortable. You notice that he's shut off the overhead light and turned on a bedside lamp; the warm amber glow highlights his ridiculously sexy jawline. It also highlights the fact that he's already semi-hard inside his slinky gray shorts.

While your gaze lingers on his crotch, he spreads his legs even wider. You lick your lips and enjoy the view for a bit before raising your eyes to meet his; he hits you with a slow-burn grin so cocky that it takes everything you have not to hop off the bed and get on your knees for him. Instead, you take a few deep breaths to try and steady your hammering pulse before finally speaking.

"You ready?"

"I stay ready," he brags, pulling both legs of his shorts up several inches to reveal his muscular thighs.

Damn, you think, as the realization hits you that you have 100 percent played yourself. Can't back down now. -- You kill the last of the wine and lean over to place the empty goblet on the nightstand. You can practically feel the heat of Joe's gaze on you as you turn to lock eyes with him. "I'm just gonna lay it out matter-of-fact, okay? I'm not trying to turn you on."

"You don't have to try to turn me on, baby girl. That's automatic." His dirty grin elicits an almost painful throb of desire deep inside you; you drop your gaze to the floor and try to steady your breathing. Why am I so nervous? you think to yourself. I've banged this man in every way imaginable saying filthy things to him, but now I'm shy?

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to." Joe's voice breaks into your inner monologue and you shake your head. "I'm good. Just gathering my thoughts. -- So, ummm, I was gonna strip down to just the thong and get you to lay on your back. -- Uhhhh, on the floor or the bed, either one I guess." Girl please, you think to yourself, his dick is gonna shrivel up if you keep being so awkward. A quick flick of your gaze down to his crotch tells you that is definitely not happening. Feeling a little bolder at the sight of his obvious erection, you forge ahead. "So, you're on your back, right?"

"Yeah," he whispers, fisting his hands even harder in his slinky shorts.

"So then I was gonna straddle your face …"

He moans low in his throat as you continue.

"I thought you might like to tongue me through the tiny mesh thong. You think you'd like that?"

"I'd love that," he groans, rearranging his hard-on without breaking eye contact.

"Then when I'd teased both of us enough, I was gonna reach down and pull the thong to the side and grind my bare pussy on your face."

He makes a strangled noise and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Hold on a sec," he whispers.

The sight of him struggling for control sends your own arousal into overdrive. "Joe," you plead. "I need you inside me."

"I can't," he shakes his head. "I promised no sex tonight."

"I'm so turned on it literally hurts," you whine. "I know you wanna punish yourself, but you're punishing me too!"

His head snaps up and he meets your gaze. "Look, I made a promise that I wouldn't fuck you tonight, but that doesn't mean I can't get you off. You want some help?"

"Yes! Please!"

He springs off the chair in a fluid motion, eyes roaming your body as he approaches you. "Lay back," he orders, dropping to his knees at the side of the bed; when you comply, he grips your waist and pulls you forward, sighing in satisfaction when your feet come to rest on his broad shoulders. He hooks a finger inside the crotch of your thong and yanks it to the side, immediately burying his long, agile tongue deep inside you. You slide both hands into his hair, holding on for the ride as he tongue-fucks you with smooth, steady strokes.

After several minutes of his delicious teasing, you're begging for release. "Please, Joe, I'm so close!" you whimper, squirming underneath him as he runs his hot tongue up to your clit, licking and sucking on the sensitive bud while sliding two fingers deep inside your aching core. "Don't stop!" you beg, your back arching off of the bed as his fingers and tongue hit a perfect rhythm.

You scream his name as your climax hits and scream again as he bullseyes your G-spot with his long fingers, teasing every bit of pleasure out of you as your body trembles with release. Everything fades to black for a second and your cries of pleasure ring in your ears as you gasp for breath.

After your pulse slows down a bit, you push yourself up to a sitting position and look at Joe; his head is laying on your thigh and his large frame is completely still. "That was intense," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair a few times. "You good?" you finally ask after he doesn't respond.

"I just need a minute," he mumbles. "If I get the tiniest bit of friction on my dick, I'm gonna make a mess in my shorts."

"Let me help you with that," you urge. "Nope," he retorts. "I made a promise."

"You promised not to fuck me tonight, but it's not tonight anymore."

"What do you mean?"

You slide a hand into his sweaty hair and pull just hard enough to lift his face off of your thigh. Once you establish eye contact you lean in close. "It's midnight," you whisper, gesturing at the clock on the bedside table. "So technically it's tomorrow." You grace him with a filthy grin once his lust-addled mind registers what you're saying.

Within a few seconds, he's stripped both of you completely naked and crawled on top of you. You bite down on his shoulder just the way he likes as he slides inside you, both of you moaning when he bottoms out. Just before you lose yourself to the delicious sensation of his thick cock moving inside you, a quick thought flashes through your mind; he may drive you crazy on occasion, but life with Joe is never boring.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow oneshot #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine

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recreationalfanfics · 8 months

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Before I go on my little AC rant I just wanted to say how awesome it is to see another native woman whose an assassin’s creed fan! I rarely see other native people on this app period, but seeing someone else whose an AC fan is just amazing! You’re my favorite writer and I just love everything you write!

Anyway, man I really wish they would have showed or said something about Shay vs Ratonhnhaké:ton after Ratonhnhaké:ton basically destroyed the templars! Your posts have me thinking about Haytham and Shay sharing a platonic darling who is also Ratonhnhaké:ton’s romantic darling. You were probably already stuck with Haytham/Shay before Ratonhnhaké:ton found you during his hunt for the templars. He thinks constantly about how much he wants you away from the templars and safe with them while Haytham is forced to consider shipping you off with Shay somewhere to be kept safe. After Haytham’s death Ratonhnhaké:ton takes you in, but you know that Shay is still out there and will come back eventually. So you’re just stuck waiting around until he does and it probably pushes you a bit more into Ratonhnhaké:ton’s arms because of it. Idk i just really wanted to see a Shay/Ratonhnhaké:ton throw down 😫🥲

OMG. HIIIIII♡ I LITERALLY NEARLY CRIED WHEN I SAW THIS BUT YEAH, SAME, Shay isn't my absolute favorite character (his concept was interesting and the execution was not it) AND YEAH, NO, I ALWAYS THOUGHT IT WOULD BE COOL IF WE GOT A SHAY AND CONNOR SHOWDOWN BUT WE NEVER DID.

But also, that is such a delicious idea omg. Maybe you were taken in by Haytham after he killed your assassin parents or maybe you just knew the things that the Templars were doing were wrong but either way, it wasn't like you could do much. Haytham saw something in you, felt a whole in his heart heal a little when he was around you, and then a fatherly love for you. Since Shay is obviously a Templar at this time, he absolutely adored you as well and he became something of an uncle, morally he wasn't any better than Haytham, but you eased the harshness of time within him and softened his hardened heart. He'd often write to you or when he went to visit Haytham, he'd bring back a gift from wherever he visited because absolutely loved your precious little smile. Then Haytham took you away to the colonies and it pained Shay not knowing how long it would be before you'd be back but he'd still write letters.

You meet Ratonhnhaké:ton when he was working with his dad, he feels embarassed for this but he genuinely does feel shy around you. You're just so mesmerizing and you smile a little when Haytham has to elbow him to introduce himself to you and you introduce yourself to him. Haytham isn't blind, when you must make camp for the night, he sees the way Ratonhnhaké:ton looks at you and the way you look at him. Maybe it was because he wasn't raised in a stuffy Templar upbringing like you or maybe it was the way he spoke, his ideals and his thoughts, Haytham watched bitterly and with confliction because on one hand, he cared for Ratonhnhaké:ton in his own way but you...he could see the wheels turning in your head as Ratonhnhaké:ton spoke, how his lessons and teachings were going out your ear as you listened to Ratonhnhaké:ton. He calls it an early night and makes sure you two get into your own separate tents and keeps watch. Haytham knew he needed the boy yet but he can't risk you getting any ideas and trying to leave him when he worked so hard to give you the best life you could possibly ask for. He writes a letter to Shay saying that he should come and take you back on his ship for a while until this whole war is over. In the morning when you all stop by town for supplies, he sends it.

While he's doing that, you and Ratonhnhaké:ton just wandering the streets, talking and cracking some funny jokes here and there. It's when you ask him if Connor is his real name that things get interesting.

"Connor is just easier to remember for most people. My birth name is hard to pronounce for some."

"Try me."

When he says his name, you struggle with the pronunciation only a little but after some practice tries, you finally get it right: "Ratonhnhaké:ton...I like it. Would you mind if I continued to call you that?"

"I would appreciate it deeply."

The way you say his name (his TRUE one) sends goosebumps down his spine, when Haytham comes back from a few errands and you once more ride horseback, you smile to yourself as Ratonhnhaké:ton rides behind you, his gaze that of a lovesick puppy. Then his eyes shift over to his father and they darken ever so slightly as the corners of his lips turn to a frown. He likes being with you, he can't deny it. You're so kind and sweet, so unfazed at the sight of blood and killing due being figuratively shackled to Haytham's side but so doting when he receives the smallest of cuts. You both knew that you were no Templar and there was no question that the only thing keeping you one was his father.

When he kills Haytham, you aren't sure what to feel, so you stand and feel nothing. Ratonhnhaké:ton knows he made a mistake but he can not take it back now. Two orphans walk out hand in hand as you agree in your head and heart to go with Ratonhnhaké:ton wherever he goes. Ratonhnhaké:ton also does end up taking Haytham's journal and learning more about his father, how many times you tried to escape or how many times you cried for your real parents, how you finally became the compliant and dearly beloved apprentice/child for Haytham eventually. Then he reads about the latest entry of how Haytham caught onto Ratonhnhaké:tons feelings-which Connor finds rather embarrassing and nearly puts the journal down to stop there because he thought he was doing well in hiding it-but then his eyes see a familiar name, "Shay".

He knows of him from Achilles, he knows of him because of the amount of blood he has on his hands, and when he tells you about how Haytham sent the letter, you smile sadly.

"I figured...I can leave if you wish me too."

"Why would I want you to do that?"

"Ratonhnhaké:ton"- he feels a certain giddiness in his heart when you say his name- "I am not worth the trouble."

He responds with a simple: "Yes, you are, and more..."

When Shay reaches the colonies again, he knows that something happened to Haytham when he didn't return a few other letters he sent. The one thing that is on his mind when Haytham is confirmed dead was you.

What happened to you?

Where are you?

Who took you?

Shay will look all over the colonies for you and bring you back "home", you know that much. Ratonhnhaké:ton would be daring him to try and take you from him. After getting to know Ratonhnhaké:ton and living life away from the Templars,when Shay DOES find you, you're quick to try and run to Ratonhnhaké:ton. Shay grabs your wrist and pulls you into a hug which you would've loved if it still didn't feel so suffocating now you had gotten a taste of freedom. When he tries to drag you away, Ratonhnhaké:ton defiantly emerges and grabs your other wrist, causing Shay to look him up and down but more importantly, it's the robes that he's wearing that cause him to scowl.

It would eventually lead to a duel, one where the future of your life will be determined and nothing will change it. Shay would kill without hesitation but Ratonhnhaké:ton is more than willing to do anything he can to keep you with him.

#yandere assassin's creed x reader #ratonhnhaké:ton x reader #yandere shay cormac #yandere shay patrick cormac #yandere shay cormac x reader #shay cormac x reader #shay cormac ac #yandere connor kenway x reader #connor kenway x reader #yandere ratohnhaké:ton x reader #yandere assassin's creed

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cryptidwithaninternetconnection · 3 months

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@sagehyperfixates @cats-and-confusion @the-excellent-papyru @bingbongbox @vaporeon2010317 @sirlordevil @deadless-corpse @boredgoon @evilscientist3 @asrielmerrymoon @evilscientist8 @doctor-shay-d-guy @scp-foundation-official @dr-catherine-sherman-owens @the-belle-siblings

An official TumblrTowne Lore post

TumblrTowne was first a settlement in a far corner of the “Inerweb” continent, nearby other settlements like Yutubia, Faciallbok, and Twitlongia (“Gia” being pronounced “Jee-uh”) These four settlements lived in., relative peace, their respective populations generally keeping to themselves, Yutubia sometimes public ally spying on other settlements, TumblrTowne being their favorite.

TumblrTowne over many centuries became stereotyped as “Barbaric, cruel, and uncivilized” by the other settlements, but Twitlongia being the most vocal about this, eventually forcing the other settlements (Now called “Medians”) to exile TumblrTowne, forcing the median to relocate to a farther corner of Inerweb.

Now, the other medians weren’t paradises, Twitlongia was a dystopian hellscape run by shapeshifters that claimed to have their people’s best interests at heart, but only allowed the community to grow and fester, eventually becoming a hot stew of toxicity, being known to the other three nations as the True Hellscape. Yutubia is rampant with copycats and corrupt beings that run wild, but it’s also one of the greatest medians for an individual to live in in terms of rent and jobs, one of the biggest jobs there being a public entertainer, each one having their own apartment to throw shows in, some spying on TumblrTowne and reading stories that originated there.

Faciallbok, unfortunately is currently having a health crisis due to an aging population and a widely brainwashed population into worshiping their local deity, the Guntslings (Minion in Swedish) making many satirical images with the Guntslings at the forefront. On top of the local culture of Faciallbok being quite out of touch and elderly, many of their children escaping to other medians.

Now, back to Tumblrtownes local culture. The majority of TumblrTownes population are very accepting, queer, young/youth friendly, free-spirited, and generally kind. But unfortunately, some do fit in the stereotypes of old, these citizens are publicly ignored if they make a ruckus, facing a magic spell tumblrinas use called “Blocking” it works by summoning a symbol out of an individuals anger or spite towards another, and forcing that person to be invisible, unhearable, and intangible to the caster. However there is a conversation on wether or not this spell should be used for simple things as disagreements, most vote in favor of Blocking being a legal spell to preform.

Tumblrtownes people are also less watched over than the other Medians, Yutubia being the most moderated. Tumblerinas having the least amount of moderation both makes way for discussions of mental health, politics, etc, it also gives a platform to the more.. unsightly citizens, who use their amount of magic to spout hateful things, often becoming local ghosts due to blocking spells making them no more than ghosts to most.

TumblrTowne, due to being exiled, is sealed off, a magic spell turning whoever enters into a “Base” this person being essentially a default being that if they visit a shop, can customize their appearance to how they see fit, an apartment also being assigned to a Base automatically.

Another thing to add on, is that if an individual does not change from a base, they are likely a clone, who are created to be slaves that advertise and try to pass off as real people, often failing and being blocked and notified to the local guardians.

Now, the apartments are intresting, because they are so common to have, home invasion isn’t exactly a new thing, nor is it a real problem culturally. But all apartment contain a room called a “Personal blog” where one would keep extremely personal things, the rest of the apartment being free to see, it being intensely discouraged to invade one’s Personal Blog, if you get caught, you get publicly shamed and turned back into a base, banned form changing yourself at all. A huge thing in TumblrTowne being having a huge cork board outside the apartment to tack on sticky notes onto, most using it to send messages, some using it to talk about random things, and some going on multi-note rants about something.

Many youth or young adults tend to move to TumblrTowne, wether that be for a fresh start, an accepting place, a good job, etc etc, the nearest median being Yutubia and Twitlongia, escapees being welcomed by tumblerinas most times, but some are shunned if they are known in Twitlongia as bad people, there will be a surge of stick notes encouraging using the blocking spell on people searching to hide in TumblrTowne while Twitlongia forgets that they existed,

Tumblrinas never forget what you did, someone will always be at your tail about whatever you did.

One last thing, despite TumblrTownes history being very open and inviting, it used to not be that way. TumblrTowne and it’s citizens had an old vendetta against the fae, origins unknown, there was a lot of propaganda framing fae as “Tricksters that will enslave you if you give them your name!” Despite this not being the case, the fae back in these times using glamours and spells to keep their heratige concealed. Eventually this would bubble over into wide-spread protests for fae rights, to stop fae humiliation, etc, and to outlaw silver and bells in areas with high fae population. These laws being put into affect after about 100 years of protesting and boycotting leading to the HigherUps caving and putting pro-fae laws into place, outlawing explicit fae abuse and putting them on the same playing field as other species, but some areas still refuse to use the new laws and are notorious for being stuck in the old times pre-exile.

Aaaaaaand that’s it! Let me know if I should add anything to the original post, there was gonna be a whole segment about alts and RP blogs, but i decided to scrap it,because it took away from the “Realness” of TumblrTowne BEING where they all take place, it would be silly to force them all under the “Story” umbrella if they’re all real here

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dragongirlintestines · 8 days

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Hunger Over Levin-3, Part 1

A vore fic featuring Thorne and Prin (@wolfgirlguts)

Ashvale station, in the orbit of Levin-3, has lain derelict for several years. The only things keeping it functional are the autonomous maintenance systems, still diligently scrubbing oxygen filters and purifying water. Designed to last, the half-mile long series of abandoned habitation rings has become a favorite stop of pirates, mercenaries, and others who would otherwise prefer to lay low for a few days. It's a far cry from the tourist-heavy resort destination whatever megacorp built the structure intended it for.

However, such shadowed corners of the galaxy are ideal hunting grounds for monsters.

Content warnings: Mentions of Sex, Blood, Gore, Graphic Digestion, General Cruelty.

Retro-rockets fire as a lone shuttle makes its final approach to Ashvale station, its raider crew cramped from the arduous journey and ready to spend some time reveling in their recent spoils. The raid had gone easier than expected, and they have some time to waste before they're due to rendezvous with the rest of the fleet.

Six bodies cross the umbilical between fuselage and installation, a mix of soft furs, ears of various shapes, and one tough, scaly hide. Two foxgirls, one red and one silver, mischievous grins flashing in the half light. A deergirl with an impressive rack of antlers spins an ill-gotten amulet around one finger, while a bright-eyed rabbit boy follows closely behind, eagerly chatting to her about something. Behind those four, standing two heads above the rest, a broad croc gal trudges, hauling one unwieldy laser cannon over her shoulder. Finally, a wolfman with greying muzzle follows, his walking staff thrumming with arcane power.

"Did you see the way that one looked when we busted down the door?" the rabbit remarks to the doe, "Priceless! I never get tired of those corpos' reactions when they realize they've fucked up!"

One of the vixens turns and smirks back at him, "Maybe we should see if we can get you to make that same face tonight!"

"I think you'd look quite cute begging for your life like that," the other vixen chimes in, moving to flank the leporine young man. A blush crosses his face as he recalls the pair's reputation for needing to burn off excess energy after a raid.

Similar jests continue as the motley crew make their way through slowly rotating habitation rings, finding a cluster of rooms around a common dining hall. It would seem the last residents to make use of the station had a sense of thieves-honor, and kept the rooms decently well maintained before their departure. The halls themselves are silent, lights extinguished except when the approaching party's life signs trigger their activation. The revelrous sound of footfalls and energetic excitement echo back and forth as the pirates set up for several sols of post-raid debauchery.

"Ahhh, it was so nice of them to leave that booze behind the bar! I was worried we'd have to dip into some of our own stash tonight!" sighs the red-furred vixen, reclining on a bed laden with pillows. The bunny boy, now thoroughly winded, rests his head on her slightly chubby belly, too exhausted and drunk to do anything about the mix of fluids matting down their fur. Beside them, the other vixen lays an arm across the pair, completing the rabbit sandwich.

Not one of them notices as another small shuttle silently glides in to dock alongside their craft.

"Yeah, and we still wouldn't have to if you hadn't drank half the bar, Shay," the silver fox groans, a teasing grin playing across her face as she gazes longingly into her girlfriend's eyes.

"Shut up, Bella," The other shoots back, flicking her partner's snout playfully. Above them, something creaks in the station.

"I didn't think we were that rough…" Bella jokes, before turning back to her lovers. "Whatever."

"Uggghhhh…" moans the cottontail between them, as he begins to roll off of Shay. "Gotta piss, do you know where the toilet is?"

"Nope! Let us know where it is when you find it!" Bella laughs. "Maybe after you use it. Unless you're into that, Ollie!"

"Ew. No." he deadpans as he disentangles himself from the horny vixen.

"Okie! Take your time, I'll get Shay here warmed up for round four!"

"Where is the damn bathroom?" The rabbit finds himself thinking, as he meanders through the hallways of the derelict station. The thought crosses his mind that this kind of poor design may have been one of the factors that led to its failure as a resort, and he chuckles to himself.

"Those stupid horny foxes…" Ollie thinks to himself as he leaves the room, unable to help but glance back at their still-throbbing cocks. It doesn't go unnoticed, and Shay shoots him a mischievous wink in response.

Up ahead, one of the sensor lights flickers on.

"Hello?" he calls out, wondering if one of his comrades was also up and about. As he casually strolls towards the light, it flickers out again, before reigniting when he comes in range.

"odd…" he mutters to himself.

As the heat of the dryer cleans the fur on his hands, one of Ollie's ears perks up, as he hears the sound of footsteps outside the small lavatory. "I'll be out in a second!" he calls, hoping whoever is waiting didn't have to search quite as hard as he had.

"If I remember tomorrow, I should check that out and see if anything else is malfunctioning" he thinks. He is, at least sometimes, the responsible one of the crew. Finally, his wandering eyes catch sight of a sign, and he sighs in relief as he realizes his search has come to an end.

Paws still slightly damp, he hurries through the door, and gently closes it behind himself. Turning back around, adrenaline spikes in his veins as he finds his vision filled with a mass of ashen blue scales. A pair of digitigrade legs, each foot tipped with sharp, bony talons ten centimeters long. Behind them flicks a long tail, pale golden ventral scales underneath contrasting with the same blue as the creature's thighs.

He slowly lifts his vision, trying not to stare too hard at the slight bulge in the golden scales and wide hips sitting just above his eye level. The creature's torso is a mass of muscle and flesh, and nestled between her breasts sits a strange device, a grey half-sphere glowing with baleful blue light. Hoses run from this core, most punching down into the flesh of the creature, but as his eyes follow two of them up to its left where they join into a terrifying mess of metal and synthetic muscle. A prosthetic arm, though he considers that it may have simply been an "upgrade" to the flesh it once was, given how its construction speaks of pure violent intent. It ends in a set of three fingers and a thumb, each tipped with sharp, polished points, the whole hand larger than his head. The terrifying metallic claws of the creature's left arm, however, seem barely an upgrade when he compares to the equally terrifying fleshy right arm. The whole body is framed by massive blue wings, tucked neatly up against its back.

Finally, he looks up to the creature's head, crocodilian to a certain extent, with pale ivory horns protruding from a mane of blue hair. Piercing, lightning-blue eyes leer down at him, and a pale red tongue runs along her lips as she looks down, hungrily.

"h… hello." he stammers, before the creature's metallic claw wraps around his torso and lifts him three feet off the ground, slamming him painfully against the door he just closed.

"Hey there, little snack," The creature growls, a wicked grin splitting its lips, revealing two dozen vicious teeth, each three inches long. Pure terror shoots through his veins, and he screams, every molecule of air he can expend tearing out of his lungs in a desperate cry for someone to save him.

Be it through sheer bad luck or a cruel twist of fate, he can hear a fox's scream of pleasure echoing faintly back through the halls of the station.

"Shame," the beast laughs, "you'll need that breath to run." It whips around, hurling Ollie's limp body 15 feet down the hallway. He bounces and tumbles, and feels several of his ribs bruise from the impact. "Get to it, little meat,"

"Meat?" he thinks to himself, unsure if he heard correctly, before the creature's draconic maw speaks again.

"I need to work up an appetite before dinner."

Oh. He heard correctly, he realizes. She wants to eat him. His mind races, the thought that a fellow sapient would stoop to something so taboo. Sure, some sapients would give in to their predatory instincts, but even the most depraved raiders stuck to hunting non-sapient animals.

"What, did I break you already?" a laughing growl peals from the beast's throat.

He doesn't need to be prompted. He needs to get back to his crew. They have weapons there. Victor might be able to weave a spell to bring her down. Or he could just be leading the monster to them. To devour them all.

No time to worry about that though. He needs to run. Now.

His paws scramble against the metallic floor, struggling for purchase. After agonizing seconds he pushes himself up off the ground, tearing down the corridors of the station.

He takes the forks on instinct, first left, then right, right feels correct here; there's no sense of direction, he just has to hope that by some miracle these labyrinthine corridors don't come to a dead end, and that he doesn't end dead.

No such luck. One wrong turn, and he rounds a corner into a common area of sorts. A large window looks out over the infinte void of space, the peaceful horizon of Levin-3 turning carefree down below. It would be beautiful, if he were anyone else.

To him, all it spells is despair. He's trapped here, in this beautiful lounge, with a monster between him any anyone who could save him. He's going to die here. He's going to die and be devoured by some sort of unhinged dragon woman. He's going to die and then she's going to slaughter his crew and no one will ever find their bodies.

No. he's not given up yet. Though the beast's pounding footsteps echo distantly through the station, he might yet be able to hide. He takes a chance to look around, noticing several doors labeled "penthouse suite" around the corners of the room.

He picks one, and to his relief, it opens with a quiet hiss. He dashes through, and finds a button with a padlock icon on the other side. His paw slams into it frantically, and the door gently clicks behind him. The lights in the room turn on, revealing a dusty, but lavishly decorated suite. A couch, table, and entertainment suite are laid out in front of him, with a kitchenette occupying one corner of the room. Through another doorway, he spies a comfortable looking bed, equally lavishly furnished.

He just needs to stay calm, and hopefully that… thing… will leave him be. He doesn't want to think about what that means for his friends, but that's a problem for when he makes it out alive.

Agonizing minutes pass, and he can feel reverberations as the massive creature treads her way through the halls of the station.

Bile surges in his throat as exertion finally catches up to him, and he leaves a mess on the carpet as he retches. Recovering slowly, he tiptoes his way to the bedroom, tucking himself underneath the bed, behind the bed runner. It's sheer, and he can see the door through it, but it's as concealed as he can hope.

"Did I put enough distance between us? Did she lose my trail?" Oliver wonders to himself.

The motion sensor lights turn off in the room, and he realizes the station itself kept his trail, writ large in pale LED lighting. A single, heavy footfall shakes the floor, and he knows death awaits right beyond the door.

A surprisingly gentle knock breaks the silence, followed by a mocking falsetto growl.

"Room service!"

A momentary pause that could last a lifetime. A prey animal trapped in its own nest holds its breath desperately hoping against hope that his doom would turn her gaze elsewhere.

"Ah well, worth a try," comes the growl, taking cruel pleasure in its little joke.

Metal shrieks against metal as hardened steel talons punch through the door, tearing through the it like paper. Blue scales fill the doorframe, and the creature stoops to let itself in. It sniffs a moment, then wrinkles its nose at the small vomit stain on the floor. A low, throaty growl escapes its lips, as it scans the room.

Oliver's eyes fall upon it at the same time as the beast's. A clean trail of pawprints in the otherwise pristine carpet of the room.

The beast crouches down, taking its time to crawl towards the poor rabbit's hiding place. "I didn't know you thought of me this way," she croons as she steps slowly, deliberately towards the bedroom. Stooping again through the second doorway, it presses itself to the ground. It lifts the bed runner, making full eye contact with one terrified lagomorph. Her claw lashes out, filling his vision, metal fingers splaying around his ears. He feels crushing pressure around his skull, and wonders if this is the end.

It is not. She pulls him out from under the bed by his ears, pain shooting through his scalp, and he can feel something warm run down the back of his neck.

"nononoNONONO!" he screams and kicks as she lifts him slowly up off the ground, before forcing him down onto the bed. Not too long ago, he remembers dreaming of something similar with a certain vixen, but this is much less desirable. For the second time within the hour, a scream rips its way through his throat, hoarse and ragged.

The monster does not allow it to last. She climbs up onto the bed after him, its lightweight orbit-alloy frame cracking under half a ton of draconic flesh. Her claws wrap around his arms, and those terrifying jaws crack open impossibly wide. He tries to squirm, but his arms are held tight to his torso, leaving only his legs to flail helplessly against the air, while the beast lifts him towards her rows of flesh-rending fangs.

The deathly maw snaps forward, driving daggers into his arms and gut, forcing the last screaming breath out of his lungs. He shuts his eyes, not wanting to stare down the yawning throat that pulses and throbs, eager for meat. It is only when she takes another hungry swallow, teeth this time piercing his soft ass, that he realizes this monster has no intent to chew. Her tounge dances along his abdomen, and a growl of pleasure reverberates up through the throat around him. Wretched, hot air wafts up from within its throat as he feels its tongue play across his body, tip winding its way into gaping wounds, lapping at his freely flowing blood. The agony is exquisite, but he can only manage a tiny whimper.

Again, the creature swallows, her tongue slipping between his thighs to push him deeper down her throat, rubbing against a sensitive nub of flesh. He is cruelly reminded of a joke Shay made about "playing with her prey" when her tongue had been in a similar position earlier that night.

He can feel as his ears slip into her gullet, and his face is pressed firmly into the soft entrance. Another burst of adrenaline kicks in, and his whole body flexes and writhes, raging against the terrifying thought of being digested alive. His arms, now free of the claws holding them in place, desperately grasp at something, anything, that he might use to pull himself out. Too late he realizes his paw has grasped something bony and round. Murderous jaws once again slam shut around him, and his hand is quickly turned to a mangled, bloody mess as it is impaled between dragon teeth. Likewise, his writhing legs are stilled as daggers sever nerves in his thighs, before pressure builds and he can feel a femur snap beneath several tons of bite force.

Her prey now somewhat more subdued, the dragon tosses her head back, letting gravity aid in pulling this morsel down her throat. One leg hangs limply outside her maw, as the still living meat is hungrily dragged into her throat. The rabbit can't even feel as she wraps her tongue around that limb, and lazily drags it down with the rest of him, not a care given for the disfigured mass of flesh it has become.

The throat is crushingly tight around Oliver, but compared to the bite force he had just experienced, it feels downright gentle. Peristaltic motions pull him ever deeper, and he cannot help but whimper, knowing in his heart that there is no escaping now; only slow, agonizing death. As he whimpers, his body shakes, and tears fall from his eyes, mingling with the esophageal mucous surrounding him. The beast's gullet, ignorant to his misery, pulls him ever deeper.

He feels a gentle pressure against his head, which gives way as the esophageal muscles push him into a more open chamber. He gasps, and immediately regrets it. Painfully acidic fumes burn the sensitive inside of his nose, down his throat, all the way into his lungs. A moment later he opens his eyes, another immediate regret. The throat pushes again. His face is plunged into chemical soup, immediately searing his corneas blind. Now panicking in sightless darkness, he can't help but thrash wildly with what little strength he has left. He feels himself fall for a brief moment, and a weight lands on top of him. He realizes that he can't feel his legs anymore.

As he thrashes, he can hear that same rumbling growl from before, only now it emanates from all around him.

"Mmmmm… yeah. I should get rabbit more often…"

He can feel something pushing on the stomach walls, as the beast rubs her slightly swollen gut. To an outside observer, were it not for the occasional bump, it would be barely obvious that an entire sapient had just been tucked away behind those scales.

"Shouldn't have crushed his legs though… they'd probably feel real good kicking in there…" Impotent fury surges through his mind as Ollie realizes she's taking pleasure in his digestive demise.

"Let me out! You fucker!" he screams, his voice hoarse from his previous exertions, as well as the scouring acidic air of her guts.

"Hmmmm… Aww, does food not know its place?" the monster ackowledges him, pure cruel mockery in its voice.

"Why… We're both sapients… You're a monster…" he moans, delirium starting to set in from lack of air.

"Oh I'm aware, you're hardly the first delicious little morsel to call me that."

"You've gotta let me ou- glrk" the poor rabbit's voice chokes as cruel hands force him under gastric juices. Bloody chime quickly surges into his throat, violating his insides. His tongue feels slippery as it begins to melt, and he finds himself unable to speak as his vocal cords sear through.

"Oh, no, I've still got a whole meal to worry about before that…"

Muscular claws push down on the belly, and it clenches painfully around him. He feels burning inside his chest, and pressure outside. Something twitches, then gives. His ribcage collapses, crushing his heart. Sensation begins to fade.

"I wonder if Prin's caught anything yet…" the bunny hears, moments before hopping off the mortal coil.

#fatal vore #digestion

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