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saturnville · 5 months ago

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all yours, jude bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x black fem oc (adeba malina). warnings: sexual insinuations. song: all yours by normani an: I don’t remember the last time I wrote a one-shot this long. and I came out of football retirement for this, so let me know how you like it! 🫶🏾 also, can anyone guess what position I played? 👀

“I don’t have an interest in pursuing a relationship with Jude. He’s a great guy but…”

Jude Bellingham, the world’s wonder boy, had become a staple in her life over the last few months following his multi-million dollar transfer to Real Madrid, but not for the reasons that people thought. They met during a dinner celebrating his transfer and hit it off immediately.

“Congratulations,” she said cooly and sat next to the young footballer. When her voice registered in his ears and her face came into view, his eyes grew wide and he looked like a child in a candy store. “I’m Adeba Malina.”

She needed no introduction. He knew exactly who she was. Former Madridista turned business-woman. She was known as one of the greatest center midfielders of her time; her speed, agility, and vision for a pathway to the goalbox were praised by the highest of heavens. Ronaldo’s protege and a Madrid icon. Adeba Malina was a football legend.

“Jude.” His hand engulfed hers as he shook it firmly yet delicately. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

Adeba pushed a strand of hair away from her face and nodded once, taking in the footballer with a quick sweep of her eyes. He wore a crisp black suit with a complimentary black tie against the freshly pressed white shirt. He was handsome, but she didn’t let her mind go past that. Rather she said, “I trust you’ll do big things with Los Blancos. I’m excited to see what you do on the pitch.”

He was bashful, she noticed, his brown skin suddenly growing red and a small smile on his lips, “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

“No problem at all. You enjoy your dinner, but a piece of advice, if I may.” Jude sat up intently. Adeba leaned over, her lips close to his ear as she tried to speak over the rowdy individuals around her. “You have nothing to prove to anyone. You’re young, gifted, and Black. They’ll do and say anything to make you look bad and to get in your head. Perfect your craft, do your best, and keep moving. There’s nothing to prove.”

Jude met her eyes for the first time that night. The prettiest shade of brown with specks of caramel. They held care and intentionality, just like the words she spoke, and he digested them like his favorite food. It was at that moment that Jude knew she’d be a good person in his life.

“But what?”

Adeba cursed to herself as she sorted through her jerseys for one to wear. Zizou. Ramos. Varane. Ronaldo. Beckham. Rodríguez. Malina. Bellingham. She snatched it off the hangar and onto her bed behind her. It would make do, and it would be cute with her newest navy blue heels and straight-leg jeans. “But,” she started after some time. “He’s younger than me and we’re just friends.”

The woman behind her scoffed audibly. “He’s barely 3 years younger than you, not 12. And you just went through 6 jerseys, knowing you have kits dating back to the 90s, including your own, to wear his, as you do for almost every home match. Don’t play with me.” And there it was. The bluntness and honesty of Colombia’s very own Dawn Nalinja, data analyst turned interior designer.

The two crossed paths at an event in Barcelona four years prior and had been inseparable ever since. So much so that their homes were in the same building, four floors apart. They were quite literally, two peas in a pod.

Adeba sighed and began getting dressed for the match against Dortmund. “Look, I just don’t think every friendship needs to transition to a relationship. Jude is good people and you don’t have to have to romanticize everything with good people.”

Dawn blinked, one, two, three times before sighing. “While that may be true, it’s best to romanticize aspects of your life with a good person, especially before they get swiped by someone else. You won’t know until you give it a try and that goes for anyone, not just Jude. But, we’ll leave that there. Are you ready?”

Adeba slid her feet into her shoes, fluffed her braids, and swiped her purse off the bed. She ignored the feeling within her chest and smiled softly as she tried not to think too hard on what Dawn had mentioned. “Ready!”

And as predicted, Los Blancos took the victory. Adeba always adored the energy of the stadium during victories, no matter who won. There was joy in seeing fans jump for joy, holler the chants of their favorite players, and take pictures with the players who’d walked by.

By the end of the match, Dawn had scurried off with her significant other, leaving Adeba to wait in the tunnel for Jude as she typically would.

She tapped her fingers against the wall as she waited for his exit, and when he came into view, the smile she didn’t realize she had on her face widened. “Hey, champ.”

Jude welcomed the greeting and returned it with a hug and a kiss against her cheek. Adeba felt warm as his arm circled around her waist and his fingers brushed against the loops of her jeans. Dangerous territories. “Thank you, Dee. What’re you doing after?”

Adeba shrugged as she stepped back to put distance between them, but it still hadn’t forced his hand to drop from her waist. If anything, it made his grip tighter. She ignored the pulsing between her thighs and said, “I planned to go home.” Her bed was always a wonderful place to be.

Jude nodded once. “Want to come to dinner with me? Not in the mood to party, but I could eat.”

Her head turned to the side and her braids swayed with it. “Just us?” The corner of Jude’s lips rose in amusement at her question. He couldn’t recall a time when them being alone mattered so much before, but with the way her breath quickened, he knew it was deeper than what she let on.

Adeba grew nervous underneath his gaze. His brown eyes were focused on her. How had she not realized how pretty they were? A rich shade of mahogany, a portal to a place unknown.

She exhaled shakily. He answered her question: “Just us.”

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adebamalina. hala madrid y nada más. congratulación a los blancos para la victoria 🤍 ft the wonder boy himself

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username 😍

— adebamalina thank you honey

username the braids!!!

judebellingham 🤍🤍🤍 always grateful for your support

— adebamalina so proud of you.

username. just get tg alr

— judebellingham liked your comment!

username. I know yall saw Jude like her comment!

username. the prettiest wag out!

-- username. girl, she’s not a wag. just a rm legend

-- username. she’s always with jude, so she might as well be. two for one special atp

-- judebellingham liked your comment!

username. real madrid legends fr

— adebamalina and judebellingham liked your comment!

georginagio we still need to have our shopping date!!

— adebamalina I’ll book a flight in a few weeks! and tell Cris and the kids I said hello!

username. okay but fr when are they getting tg?

— saturnville girl idk I haven’t thought that far yet

“Stay with me tonight.”

If Adeba lived in an animated world, she would have heard her feet squeal like brakes when she stopped suddenly. She turned slowly to see Jude standing with one hand in his pocket while the other held her blue heels, a straight look on his face. “As in…?” Adeba pushed for further explanation. Sure, they’d hung out before at each other’s places and in other public spaces, but his words hinted at something more.

“Movies, snacks, and I’ll whoop your ass in Uno. Just something chill. I just…didn’t want the night to end this early.”

Adeba sighed heavily. She wanted to deny him. To tell him that wasn’t a line that needed to be crossed. That she was nothing more than a friend, a mentor in a way, to push him to be his best self in his professional and personal life, but how could she? With the way he looked down on her and not in a condemning way. But with a look of adoration. His eyebrows were relaxed and his eyes were soft. His body language spoke of comfortability in her presence with how his shoulders were low and slightly rounded above her body. Like a guard.

She wanted to tell him she’d go home, that she didn’t want to blur any lines. She wanted to admit that she had no feelings for him at all, but then she’d be lying, and one thing Adeba Malina hated was a liar.

Adeba pondered on it longer. Her teeth captured her bottom lip as her mind worked to weigh the pros and the cons. They were friends, just friends. Friends who were potentially spending the night together…alone. With any other guy friend, the idea would have repulsed her. But when it came to Jude, something within her sparked with curiosity at the idea of staying the night with him.

Maybe Dawn was right. If everything aligned, would it be worth a try?

Adeba finally met his eyes again and nodded. “Okay.”

“You started playing at 17 for Real. Is that how you met Cristiano?” Jude asked inquisitively and passed the bag of candy to Adeba, who sat on her knees in front of him. She nodded and popped a few Nerds in her mouth.

“Correct. The men’s team came to visit the women’s practice and of course, we’re football fanatics just like you, so having these legends visit us and give us advice was amazing. Cris always gave me good advice, especially being that we both came from nothing. So, I try to pour into you what he and many others pour into me.”

Jude couldn’t help but smile. From what she’d shared, she was Ghana-born and raised in Spain once her parents moved at the age of five. She couldn’t take much with her when traveling to Europe, but what she did take was a soccer ball her father had gotten her, which she kept in a glass case in her jersey closet. Growing up she didn’t have much, but she had her ball, and that was enough for her.

What she didn’t know was that the ball would grant her and her siblings an education, her parents a home, and her family stability that would continue even when she left the Earth. Football saved her in more ways than one. She understood what it was like to fall in love with it and she also understood the challenges that came with it. And that was what she enjoyed sharing with others. The journey of loving the game.

“I appreciate that,” he replied. There was a silence between them, a comfortable one. “I still can’t believe you kicked my ass four times.” His tone was teasing, she knew, but she could hear a hint of seriousness. She shrugged and smiled.

“A torn ACL took me out the game, but you can never take the game out of me, baby. I do this.” It was his turn to get flustered. Baby. It was a casual pet name and he knew she meant nothing by it but he wanted to hear it over and over.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “I’ll get you back eventually.”

Adeba’s eyebrow raised, “Is this a challenge, Mr. Bellingham?” His eyes met hers. There was a glint of mischief behind her which displayed her fun and teasing nature. But, behind the mischief, her eyes grew darker and the smirk on her lips grew wider, especially as he began to visibly crumble under her gaze.

“Maybe,” was all he could get out.”Guess you’ll have to find out.”

And there it was. The ambiguous statement that left the two of them wondering what the other meant. But she knew. He knew. It was his comment that seemed to shorten the invisible string between them that seemed to wrap around the world. Suddenly, it was just inches long andt the only thing that kept their bodies from pressing against one another’s in a heated exchange of passion.

“Is that so?” Adeba’s tongue circled around her cheek, a subtle action that left Jude’s stomach clenching. He nodded.

The space between them continued to dwindle. They were once separated by the middle cushion of the couch, but now, they could feel the warmth from each other’s breath fanning against their faces. Jude, making the first move, brought his hand to her bare face, fingers caressing her skin. She was so beautiful. Rich complexion with beauty marks and faded acne scars that added to her uniqueness. Her lips were so full. His thumb drummed against them. “Pretty girl…”

Her eyes fluttered closed. “Please…”

Before she could say anything else, his mouth was on hers. Adeba felt her inhibitions slip away as their lips moved together. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought of kissing him and what it’d be like. She expected something sweet. Nah, this was a grown kiss. Passionate and intense, borderline sloppy and nasty. Exactly how she liked it.

Adeba couldn’t remember how she ended up on her back with her bare legs around his waist as he kissed and sucked along the skin of her neck, but she chose not to think of it too much. She refused to be the reason why the moment was ruined.

Jude enjoyed every moment. From feeling her legs tense around his waist and shuddering as her manicured nails snuck under his shirt to trail along his abdomen to hearing her whisper his name so delicately. Jude. She drove him insane.

But, as much as he wanted to keep going, he knew she deserved more than a heated makeout on his couch at two in the morning with no clear expression of his feelings. So, he broke away from her, which was met with a very cute yet very confused expression on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Jude smiled and shook his head. He used his thumb to wipe the corners of her mouth which were damp from their heated exchange. “Nothing, I just…I like you a lot. In a more than friends way and I think you should know that before anything else happens. It’s only right.” Adeba’s eyes sparkled at his comment. “And…I’d like to take you out. On a real date. Just us. Then maybe, if you’re up to it, we can see how far this goes.”

Adeba smiled. “I’d like that.”

Damn it, Dawn.

6 months later…

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adebamalina my man, my man, my man

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dawnnalinjaaaa finally!!!! y’all were pissing me off

-- adebamalina yeah yeah yeah

cristiano ❤️

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normani so so so happy for you honey

georginagio double date!!!

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judefanpage I’m glad he cuffed her before I did

-- username you’re so real for this

“Baby, we’ve got somewhere to beeee.” Adeba’s words were dragged out as she grew distracted by his lips against her neck and his front pressed against her back. “Jude…”

He hummed softly, massaging her hips as she struggled to finish the finishing touches on her makeup. They had a date to celebrate their six month anniversary but it seemed as though Jude wasn’t in a hurry to make it to their reservation on time. “You look pretty, love. Pretty and all mine.”

All yours, she replied. Jude’s eyes swept across her body. Adeba looked stunning. She wore a red dress that flowed every step she took. Her hair was curly, her makeup was bright and beautiful, and of course, her full lips were just begging to be kissed.

“Thank you,” she said, dropping her makeup products down. She turned in his arms and smiled. Her hands were against his chest and she soothed his suit jacket with her palms. “You look very handsome as always. Let’s go.”

Adeba took a step back to go find her heels and purse, but was stopped by his lips on hers. Jude swallowed every moan she released and allowed it to fuel the fire that burned within him. She circled her arm around his neck as their kiss intensified. She’d never get enough of this.

“I love you,” he mumbled against her lips.

Adeba smiled. “I love you too.”

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peachetteprice · 4 months ago

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A Hand for Radio | Simon "Ghost" Riley

Summary:

Ghost X Badass Reader (ft. Soap)

As requested by anon!

Content Warnings: Slight gore (mild), suggestive tones...

Word Count: 2.8K

You were not the sort to sit around and look pretty.

Those were both of the only available two ends of the argument.

You had a purpose, like every other schmuck on base, and you were not about to let anyone think otherwise. It was a damn shame that you had the appearance to promote the assumption, too, because there were many occasions when new recruits sauntered to your behind, shocked you with a dirty line or two, only to be met with the most disappointed expression they'd ever seen.

Sodding bastards never realised that the worst thing a woman could say was nothing at all.

Never mind that your boyfriend could have been there to give a stern word or two. He would have surely scared them half to death. (It would be too crass to make a comparison with his namesake, so it shall not happen.) That, and you often digressed to calling him 'mask', whenever you were in a hurry, which they could have only ever dreamt of - well, when the sun was up, at least - and was the very thing that made Simon chuckle over nothing during briefings, eventually leading to the security of your presence in his cot.

(Other, less digestible, names will not be mentioned.)

Regardless of that position, almost every boy on base had flirted with you, or at least tried their hand in your game.

Oh, come on, who wouldn't have done?

It was practically something of an initiation tactic.

You were quite the catch, nothing but a stunner in a crowd of muppets, and in such a testosterone-filled environment, there was no doubt that a chaste moment of eye candy - whether it be the round of your arse bent over to inspect one of the wheels before take-off, to ensure that the tread hadn't been scuffed flat, or the occasional hair-flip-turned-impromptu-ponytail that had every man above the age of twenty-two drooling over the sight of your neck and stretched temples - was enough to cement your presence as belle of the ball.

To the untrained ear, that might seem to dilute the prowess of your hand in the field. It must be a curse being admirable and capable, right? Unbelievable, almost? People must think you an imbecile. It would be all too easy to show them otherwise. Forget about continuous sine waves, spark coils, and electrons and their existence in magnetic fields within a simple transmitter circuit, and the effect this might have on directional compasses. But... if you said anything of that nature to them, it would have sent a rush of adrenaline to their - don't you dare - heads, and the poor things might have fainted from shame.

That wasn't to say that every man on base was worth less than a nickel of your time and dime, though. Not by a long shot. You were willing to cash in your attention for comraderie. Four of them were worth something, definitely, and a lot of something meant that they were immeasurably lucky to share the same field with you, and you; them.

Even if John "Soap" MacTavish was a bit of a knob.

Oh, MacTavish.

Sweet Scottish MacTavish.

He had a bit of a sore spot on his arse that day, probably too busy kissing others', as he was desperate for a friendly game of scarpering - something of another initiation tactic that he'd forced you to compete in when you first arrived. First to find, fix, or create a device (whether it be explosive, acted upon as a weapon, or communicational in utility) would be crowned winner of the field. He'd even made origami hats - they were boats, actually, but nobody, not even Simon, was going to dispel his excitement so dreadfully - for the finishing ceremonies, as something of a distraction after a mission.

Hell, it was not only exhilarating but made for a stunning pad to your resume of competencies. Beating a Scottish man with tendencies of vile language when bested at his own game? It would put you miles ahead of the crowd.

And, during a moment of downtime - as you monitored a rather grimy tower of flats in the boondocks of North Macedonia, wherein you had been stationed outside the premises beside an adjoining building for hours, until word from Laswell confirmed that a convoy of suspected Iraqi arms dealers were all, in fact, returned to the premises and therefore present, at which point you could enact an ambush on the occupants - did Soap carefully suggest something of a game.

"Absolutely not." Price grumbled over comms.

That was evident enough. He would never sign off on it - and he never had, even when the occurrence was all but inevitable, but it surely happened time and time again.

"Oh, come on, Cap. I'm gettin' a dead arse crouched in this doorway." Soap tutted. "Just one game. It'll be good for team-buildin', an' all tha'."

There was no residual team building left to be built, and Soap knew that.

Price huffed a breath through his nostrils - it came out more of a growl as it expelled beyond his throat. He wished to speak of keeping one's focus on the job, one's eye on the ball, one's head in the game, and any other turn of phrase that came to mind to convince Soap not to be a prick. But it was futile. Soap had the pester-power of a toddler on the brink of a meltdown in a Sainsbury's (and he was a prick) and - frankly, if he was to be honest with himself and the current state of his withering patience - he would have liked nothing more than to be relinquished from his irksome voice over comms. The man hadn't shut up since he woke from his cot that very morning - and there was no end in sight!

It might have been the only reason that he'd given in to Soap's pleas.

By the time the evening sun had caught the windowsill of the barn you were positioned behind - of which you were crouched below - and spread along the lower half of your body, the game was surely afoot.

It took mere moments to gather a metal file - repurposed from the lid of a tanker of oil beside the corrugated rear of the barn (which you’d surely inform Price of, if not for its disturbing presence in an otherwise residential neighbourhood) - something from which to fashion a receiver and a transmitter through an attributing pile of wires - likely from a previous building that had been scrapped - copper coil and electronic scraps.

Negating the smarmy replies of Soap throughout - versions that hassled over your ability to do well and your affiliation toward losing, in degreeing intensities of Gaelic (and the occasional profanity) - you fashioned something of a radio, in its most basic form, and settled it beside you at the window ledge. With the size of its battery, and the strength of one silver coin - which was weak, to say the least - it could only pick through the static near a radio, never mind transmitting or receiving audio streams.

Hence, why, after a spot of bartering with Price and the odd word of caution from Simon (in which you convinced them both that it would, in fact, be useful to create, from scratch of a working radio, in case the one on your vest spontaneously ceased working and you became stranded from the boys in rural Southern Europe, a terrible plight, indeed), did you agree to adhere to attentiveness as you rounded the far wall of the barn.

Though it was nary a metre from the wall that you spotted the passing shadow of a person - of a man - cross through the rear property line between a silo and an enclosed warehouse, which were both South of the block of flats. He looked shifty. There wasn’t much to describe how or why he was, certainly not the reason for your suspicion for the matter, save for the singular glance he gave over his shoulder and the way he approached the building with a hunched stature, but you decided to follow nonetheless.

As he swept a wire fence out of his way that snagged at his wrist and pulled fibres from his jacket, you were able to catch the slightest glimpse of his face. No beard. No prominent features, albeit, however, the slimmest of scars running parallel to the curve of his eyelid, situated along his forehead. And that realisation called upon a memory of something Price had said, that morning in briefing. That one of the inferiors to the man you were all there to apprehend had a scar extending from his temple to mid-brow.

And he was right there, ignorant to your presence.

“Time to get back to Dodge, Sergeants.” Price murmured through the comms. “Laswell’s given us the all-green. Everyone has ex-auth., with respect to wanting the poor bastard alive. Ghost, convene at the barn with me. Gaz, you’re solo. Soap–”

“--With me, Scotsman.”

A slurry of solid-copy’s followed in tow, just as you, yourself, neared the wire fence. It was the all clear - the all clear to get your man, via whatever means possible.

And as you had tucked into your vest at your ribs, a silver blade, it seemed there was no other weapon fit for contender to be used towards the man’s demise. And, with no other contender, you snatched the blade, wrung the hand in your palm a few times until you found the right grip, and leapt through the wire fence.

Ten yards soon became two as the man’s gaze fretted through the barren air. He was waiting for someone. Something, if you were lucky. But it wasn’t the time to be waiting around to test it, so you crept forwards, low, lips pinched with apprehension. Don’t turn around, Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.

Ten yards became five. And five, three. Three, two, your footsteps crunching in the grass. You were reaching the point beyond no return, with either victory in the death of a man’s gaze, or loss: your body in a ditch beside a silo and a warehouse somewhere in North Macedonia. Two yards became one, and with that, you arched your shoulder in preparation to pounce.

The man went down with the tonnage of a whale, and nothing more than a gargled moan befitting one as you plunged the knife deep within his jugular. He dropped, quick, and only struggled for a moment before you twisted the blade and, like a flicked light switch, his muscles collapsed, any prior semblance of life wept from his eyes, and his mouth fell slack open, jaw untensed. As you stood from his body to assess the damage - and see if there was a flap of fabric to wipe your blade on for the next poor sod - you noticed something in the grass beside the man, at his hip.

It was a USB stick.

There was no doubt about it as you ran your gloved finger along its edge, uncapped it to reveal short teeth and a protruding connector, and stuffed it into your breast pocket as carefully as it required.

In the end, the mission was, by all accounts, a success. Although, collectively, the man you were there for - the kingpin, the big fish, the leader - was not present, MacTavish had collected a fair number of blueprints to what seemed like an underground chasm of tunnels beneath a vast section of forestry between Macedonia and Albania, which would lend itself nicely to a spot of inter-border smuggling of contraband, which could now be intercepted at a later date, through Laswell’s extensive researchers.

Price and Gaz had both uncovered what seemed to be remnants of illegal oil distribution centre - thanks to your tip of the tankard beside the barn which - although minute in stake toward the mission and its efficacy - could be used to inform Laswell to possible trading routes and linkage between adjoining countries to track the movement of the fleet.

Simon (though not Simon and Simon, alone) had done away with his fair share of the Iraqis, contributing to a large number of them dead within the flats, and harboured information from at least three innocent residents, which cemented the notion that the mission was, all in all, worth the peril.

And, you?

You had that flash drive.

“I’ll be darned to see that device ye conjured up, lass. G’on, let’s see how ye’ve fumbled it.” Soap slumped into his seat - yes, his seat in the Condor and nobody else’s as he’d bagsied it months prior - and pulled from a tag on his vest what seemed to be the inner workings of an explosive device, notably unfinished.

“Oh, sweet Soap… fumbled it?” You queried, reaching for the radio you’d stitched together. Sure, its components were a little rusty, and it had nothing of a sleek plastic casing to protect its innards, but it was viable as a communication device, which met the only caveat of his game as it existed.

“It works?” Soap scowled.

“It does. Cross my heart.” You replied, and Simon gave the smallest chuckle from beside you before slinging an arm about the bottom of the seat, catching your hips as you sat back. “Poor MacTavish. Does your bomb not work yet?”

“It’s a rudimentary explosive device.” His lips clamped tight, and you thought for a moment that he would make a brilliant nerd if he lost that arrogance of his. “And it'd work if I had another wire, but the Captain talked us into battle too soon...”

You grinned. “Oh. Like one of these, Sergeant?” And stretched one of the radio’s guts out, not completely as to avoid severing the connection, just for emphasis and emphasis only (nothing of bragging, gloating, triumph…)

"Whatever." Soap frowned. "At least I got those papers. Pretty good, wann't I, sir?" Kinking his head toward Price.

Always the suck-up.

It made you want to wipe that smugness from his face. And there was no better way to do so than carefully fish from your pocket a one, white, succinctly intact USB flash drive.

You dangled it in the air and watched the team's gobs fall slack.

Price didn't look too happy - but it was worth it to hide the drive from him when they were looking at you like that.

And Soap's face... it dropped faster than a ballsack on a hot day.

"Forgot about this. Got it from that... Aboud guy. Whatever his name was."

"Saif Aboud?" Price questioned. His palm was in his beard, and the ire in his eyes could have sparked a fire in the lone wilderness, but you maintained that it was still worth it despite the slight insubordination.

Particularly as Soap, with a horrorified expression, quietly asked;

"Whilst we were playin' the game, lass?"

You tossed the drive to Price, who sighed and added it to the sealed collection of evidence, ready to be taken back to Laswell. "Well, there was nothing else to do. Thought I might as well while my time."

"Shit..." Gaz chuckled - any laugh from him was a sign of deep respect.

And at that, Simon caught your waist more fervently as you leant into him, caressing circles beneath the rib of your vest.

"Steamin' bloody Nora..." Johnny clamped his teeth over his bottom lip.

Simon careened down to your ear to tickle a 'that's my girl' which would later be replaced the whisper of his breath; his lips against your skin, cooing about how gorgeous you were for sticking it to the boys - even if he had quite the soft spot for Soap - without a care for their boyish pride.

There was silence then, and Soap looked sufficiently frazzled.

"Oi. Is - is--" Soap stammered. "Is no-one gonna talk about how she just--"

"--No, mate." Gaz clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Best just to leave it, innit? Come on. I think we all need a drink when we get back."

A look of incalculable fear.

The team shared a unanimous nod. Nobody looked at you throughout the plane ride back to base quite how Soap looked at you. He spent the remaining journey flitting wary glances between the USB and you, with an expression that only served to boost the more arrogant corners of thought because it was, positively, with no semblance of doubt;

| Masterlist |

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deathworlders-of-e24 · 1 month ago

Text

Liz, Biotechnician

Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Vending Machine whirred softly as it produced the 5th candy bar in a row. It’d been a week since the science division had turned into a chocolate factory, but Liz wasn’t that worried. Coco didn’t have a chemical makeup that could be affected by diabetic amounts of sugar. The opposite, in fact, the little Sprygan was doing better than ever, and wasn’t so little anymore. Just like plants on Earth, botanical lifeforms needed glucose to grow, and apparently when given daily supplements of the stuff, their growth rate accelerated at frightening speeds.

Liz walked back to the lab, with a hearty Halloween’s worth of candy bars in her hands and pockets. Some crewmen gave her odd looks as she passed, but she paid them little mind. The door to the lab opened with a quick hiss.

“So we got milk, dark, white with macadamia nuts, and… what are you doing?”

Coco was standing in the center of the room, their new fuller branches seemingly vibrating. Liz thought they looked excited. The same Coco, who at the time when the mission began, was at best maybe 3 feet tall, now stood almost 5 1/2 feet in height and had a significantly thicker trunk. They were about as big as Liz was herself now, with a thicker canopy in the beginnings of bloom. They leaned in Liz’s direction, vines trembling.

“I just got a message from the bridge. There’s a uncharted planetoid in this system with a moon that might have breathable atmosphere, and they want a full ecological report written up.”

“So we’re going down there?”

“Correct! It’ll take 2 cycles to get there, but then it’s all ours!”

Liz was overjoyed! Finally, some actual field work instead of editing someone else’s papers all day. A whole new ecosystem with god knows how many new species… if it had atmosphere, of course.

Can’t get too excited yet girl, Liz thought.

“Does the moon have water?” She asked.

“Indeed.”

That’s a real good sign though, she figured.

“Can I have my chocolate now please?” Coco asked.

“Oh right, yeah, here you go,” Liz said, setting the bars on the table. Coco’s vines reached out and snatched them, taking them back into their canopy to be the plant equivalent of ‘digested’. The usual humming started up as they enjoyed their snacks. Liz wasn’t sure, but she thought she could see bark physically forming on their trunk now, or perhaps it was simply a discoloration.

“You’re sure this much sugar is good for you hon?” Liz asked, concern slowly winning out over scientific curiosity.

“The thing you call cocoa seeds are not plentiful on my planet, so I’m unsure if any Sprygan has ever had this much in such a short period of time, but I’ve never had so much energy before. My growth rate is miraculous, I’m almost completely out of my juvenile sapling stage now.”

“And that’s a… good thing?”

“Very. Saplings on my planet are the easier targets for predators. With a harder outer layer I’ll be much safer now. I’ve been composing a paper on this for days, it’ll be of great significance to Spryga.” Coco continued humming, ‘munching’ away on her candy bars.

“Well alright then, so long as you’re okay,” Liz said. “So tell me more about this moon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Deep in the Antares System, hidden from scanners by the solar radiation of the tertiary star, was a desolate little rock burnt to a crisp by stellar winds during a flare eons ago. Its moon, however, was protected from the fire while in the shadow of the planet. And so it continued to turn, with barely a few degrees changed, undisturbed.

Until now.

The Noah entered the system from WARP, keeping a safe distance from the tertiary star in case of solar flares, and settled into a comfortable orbit around the planetoid to scout the surface of the nearby moon, now being called MX13.

From the Bridge, Liz and Coco read the initial scans from various probes launched when they’d arrived.

“Gravity reads…damn, big moon,” Liz said, surprised, “9.1, just a little under galactic and Earth standard.”

“Gas spectrometer reads as breathable atmosphere to 70% of known intelligent lifeforms,” Coco read on, “but not humans. You’ll have to wear a mask Human Liz.”

“What’s the chemical makeup like?” Liz asked.

“95% methane… similar to what you call Titan in your Terran home system. Without a mask you’d have a few minutes at best before you suffocated.”

“So yeah, rebreathers are fashionable this time of year,” Liz laughed. Even the idea of suffocating in a potentially hostile ecosystem wasn’t enough to bring her spirits down. It had been ages since she’d set foot on extraterrestrial soil.

“Ahem,” grunted Skitch, as much as a bipedal bug man could go ‘ahem’ with mandibles.

“What does fashionable mean?” Coco asked quietly.

“I’ll tell you later,” Liz whispered.

Captain Skitch had been waiting off to the side for a while now while they geeked out over the moon.

“Now then,” he said, arms behind his thorax stoically, “in six rels[?] [GAIL standard term: 1 rel approximately 1 earth hour(s)] we’re sending a shuttle down to the moon to conduct the requested ecological report. Our main objective is to see if there are any lifeforms, intelligent or otherwise, living there. If it is deemed uninhabited, we’re to declare whether or not it could become a potential colony for GAIL member races.”

Liz was almost painfully excited. Uncharted habitats, potentially establishing a colony, this is what she worked 6 years in the academy for, what she lived for.

“Sir, what are we supposed to do if we do come across any lifeforms down there?” She asked.

“You know the rules. On the off chance you come across anyone intelligent, you do not get involved, you do not get seen. We’re here to record the natural evolution of the universe, nothing more.”

“There’s very little chance of that,” Coco chimed in, “the first scans of the surface are being analyzed, there doesn’t seem to be any structure of any kind on the surface, so it’s unlikely we’ll come across any sentient species.”

“On the off chance you do have an encounter, I’m assigning commander Koatil to the landing party. She’ll be in charge of everything, and has my full authority to make any judgment call she sees fit.”

As if on cue, First officer Koatil made the bridge, her thermal suit fitted with extra armor for the expedition, hiding her powder blue fur. It seemed to Liz she’d freshly sharpened the horns on top of her head as well. She’d always figured they looked like rams horns, and thought how interesting it was that Doun women were the only ones with horns in their species.

“Good to meet you both,” Koatil said. “I’m sure this’ll go smoothly for all of us, just stick with the group and everything will be fine. Permission to depart, Captain?”

“Granted.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Noah’s shuttle bay was about the size of Liz’s old high school gymnasium, vaulted ceiling and wide open space, plenty of room for the three docked shuttles. Commander Koatil stood nearby, doing her final check as bay staff loaded the shuttle with cases of the scientific instruments they’d use to analyze the moon’s ecosystem.

Liz and Coco, along with the shuttle pilot and 2 other security personnel, stood ready to board at the commander’s say. She inspected the crew going down to the moon with them. The pilot seemed fine, even had two more arms to steer, so that was reassuring, but it was the security personnel that caught her attention. If Liz was seeing it right, the two were not on friendly terms with each other. The first one, an Indoprime, was standing at an awkward distance from the other guard, a Sed man. Neither spoke to the other, the Indoprime even slightly leaning away from the Sed, who stared straight ahead and said nothing. Both had plasma pistols on their belts, as well as upper armor over their uniforms. Liz was going to be severely disheartened if they messed up the ‘roadtrip’ she’d been waiting for.

Commander Koatil handed the pad to one of the crewmen and made her way to them at the shuttle.

“All aboard to MX13,” she said, resting her big paw on the pistol on her hip as she climbed in the door. The rest of them, Liz and Coco, the pilot, and the security personnel followed behind her. The door sealed shut behind them.

Liz took her seat, helping to secure Coco in theirs. The buckles weren’t well suited to thumbless species. She’d made sure the belts didn’t dislodge their own pistols from their holsters. Having a rogue plasma shot in here wouldn’t end well.

Buttons were pressed, dials turned, something that looked like a cup holder was pulled out of the dash, and the shuttle came to life.

“Shuttle Alpha, you are clear for departure.”

“Acknowledged,” replied the pilot.

The hangar doors opened, leaving behind the gas mesh, a thin blue wall of light to keep the air in the room from exploding into the void. Their shuttle passed through it easily, heading into open space.

“Haven’t seen this view for a while,” Liz said. Sure, of course there were windows on the ship, but it felt different in a shuttle. Like the void was just a hair’s width away from her now, waiting for her.

“My sensory receptors can’t make out anything but the shuttle,” Coco said, “could you describe it to me?” Coco’s leaves were shaking slightly, so Liz reached out and put a hand on their branch. The shaking calmed.

“Well first it’s just the sheer amount of stars,” Liz said quietly, “like a million points of light. There’s a nebula about 12,000 light years away off the port side that looks like butterfly wings if you squint… if you look at it right. Coco, I can’t express it right, the moon looks beautiful.”

“Human Liz, I’m jealous of you. Seeing in the visible spectrum must been so interesting.”

“Well what does the world around you look like? What do you perceive?”

“Well as you know, my branches have a sensory function to detect my surroundings, vibrations, light, even sensations in a way. But I don’t know how one would compare our two sensory experiences.”

“Your communicator is built into your brain isn’t it?” Liz asked. “Couldn’t it be adjusted to send sensory signals to your mind as well?”

“It’s possible, but the technology isn’t developed yet,” Coco explained. Liz looked at her a moment.

“Think we could fix that? I’d hate for my best friend to miss this view for their whole life.”

Coco didn’t say anything to that. She just listened as Liz described the universe around them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Boosters fired.

Air brakes deployed.

Shuttle Alpha landed safely on the moon MX13.

The landing party filed out, and except for Coco, everyone decided against the worst case scenario and wore respirators. It wasn’t as bulky as Liz first thought, just a face mask with a line to a small air cleaner on her belt. Coco was the only one who didn’t need to breathe, so they were totally fine.

Stepping off the shuttle onto the moon’s surface, Liz was surprised at the vegetation around them. Muddy purple grass bed the ground, surrounded by rocky patches across the valley where they’d landed. Off in the distance were what appeared to be trees, thick branchless trunks growing straight up, splitting into angular canopies. Liz brought her camera up and snapped a photo.

“Alright, spread out but try to stay in sight of the shuttle,” Koatil said over their radios. “I know we’re setting g sensors pretty far out, so if anyone gets into trouble out there, launch a flare and we’ll come get you. Grite! You’re with the science team, go with them.”

The Sed man, Grite, looked almost pained at the idea of tagging along with Liz and the Sprygan.

“Aye, commander.”

“Think you can help us carry the sensors?” Liz asked, hoping to break the ice. She already had 2 bags strapped to her back and another slung over her shoulder. Coco was too small to carry anything.

“You can carry your own supplies,” growled Grite, keeping his distance from them.

What a dick, Liz thought, shouldering another bag on her other arm. The sensors she was carrying were heavy, but she was still in high spirits. Field work! Hurray!

They must’ve walked for over a mile, planting sensors every few hundred feet in ‘places of interest’, namely places Liz and Coco thought looked cool or had neat vegetation or rock formations. They’d made their way into a swampy area, heading towards a line of hills in the distance.

Coco went off a ways to plant a sensor by a small marshy cove they’d detected. Grite followed behind Liz, glaring every time she looked back. She didn’t know what she’d done to annoy him so much, she’d just met the guy, but maybe she’d done something or said something offensive by alien standards.

Whatever, don’t need him for this, Liz thought. This is a brain mission, not a buff rock guy mission.

“Human Liz,” Coco called over the radio, “there’s a rocky area here, with a subterranean tunnel system.”

“Cool, moon caves,” Liz laughed. “I’ll be right there with the another sensor, just wait for me, okay?”

“There are these round stones here half buried in the soil, at the entrance,” they continued.

That made Liz pause a moment.

“Just one or two, or are they in a kind of a pile?”

Static.

“Coco? Talk to me hon, pile or no pile?”

Static still. A few pips and pops, followed by a squeal of feedback noise. Liz’s blood ran cold.

“-uman Liz-… predator-… help-…”

“Grite launch the flare now!” Liz yelled, dropping the bags to the ground before breaking out in a sprint. She stomped and lunged through a few hundred yards of marsh, quick as she could, hitting solid earth at a dead run. The Sed was either behind her or he wasn’t, Liz couldn’t think about that in the moment. She had a pistol herself, and while she may have been the science geek on the ship, her dad had made sure she knew how to use it.

She cleared the marsh and crested a small ridge line, following the trudging trail of the little Sprygan. There she saw the scene, Coco on their side, massive claw marks raked up their trunk, and what looked like a cross between a mountain lion and a gator, long snout and mouth with jagged teeth and a ‘feline’ body, muscled and lithe with a forked tail. The thing’s back was covered in ridged scales, while its limbs were bare, wrapped in fur and old battle scars.

FUCK, Liz thought. She pulled her pistol and shot energized plasma directly at its head, but it barely even burned it. Whatever this thing was made of, its skin was fire proof. Her translator crackled in her ear.

“-human Liz…-?”

Liz didn’t hesitate any further. She leapt from the ridge, landing on the creature’s back. She took the butt of her pistol and started slamming it on the back of the thing’s head, over and over again, before the creature bucked her off.

Liz fell hard, hitting her head and mask on the ground with a sickening crack. Gas started venting fast, there was an inch long crack in her visor now, a whole chuck of it missing, falling somewhere in the dirt. Somewhere above her hair line she must’ve been cut on the rocks, because blood was dripping down into her left eye.

Dimly she was aware that she was already dead, if her mask was broken then there was no way to get back to the shuttle before she suffocated. But that being said, she was going to fuck up this monster trying to eat her best friend before making her grand exit.

What a way to go, huh Liz? she imagined in her father’s voice. He’d be smiling in a situation like this. Liz grabbed the side of her broken mask and ripped it off, throwing it at the creature as it crouched in front of her. She took in a deep breath of ‘air’, filling her lungs, and screamed. Her legs bent into a crouch, her back tensed, she tasted blood in her mouth. Adrenaline poured into her veins, dulling the pain, giving her strength and funneling rage into the center of her brain. She had one job now.

“COME ON THEN YOU FUCKER, LETS FUCKING GO!”

Liz charged the creature, firing bolts of burning plasma as she went, praying that dick Grite was somewhere nearby ready to get Coco out of there while it was busy mauling her to death.

The creature shrugged off the pistol fire, pouncing on her, pinning her to the rocky ground. Stones and the alien’s claws dug into her sides and back. It opened its jaws wide, and Liz realized it meant to eat her head. Fuck this thing.

“You hungry you big bastard?! EAT THIS!”

Liz worked her arm free, the one still holding a death grip on her plasma pistol, and shoved it down the creature’s throat. Its teeth tore into her arm, screaming pain ripped up her side, and Liz never stopped pulling the trigger. The smell of burning filled the air as the creature squealed and whined, its body going limp as bodily fluid poured out its mouth. She didn’t stop, emptying the clip into its blown out organs. Finally the thing was quiet.

Liz didn’t even bother trying to pull her arm out of the alien’s mouth, the thing was ruined, and she was dying anyway. Between blood loss and asphyxiation, her vision was already fading to little pin pricks. With the last shred of consciousness, she let out one more howl, screaming into the air, before everything went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elizabeth Collins didn’t remember what happened after that. All she knew was she was sore all over and weirdly cold, which would make sense if she was just a corpse, but why did she hear… was that ABBA?

Please not an eternity of pop music, she thought sluggishly. Anything but that.

She struggled, oddly weightless, and tried to open her eyes but found they’d been bandaged shut.

Oh good, I’m alive, people hardly ever bandage dead people.

What about mummies?

Shut up, me.

She reached a hand out and touched something smooth and solid. She tried to tap her knuckles against it, but only got one good rap at it before her hand hurt too much. Thankfully it seemed that’s all she needed.

“Human Liz, are you conscious? How do you feel? Are you in discomfort?”

Oh good, Coco was alive too.

“Wait, no, don’t try to speak right now, you’re in the regeneration pod right now, in nano surgery. I’ll be right here when it’s over, return to being unconscious please.”

Oh, okay, sleep sounded good anyway. Night night, Coco.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s gonna be twitchy for a few cycles until it adjusts to your neural pathways, but it should feel just like the old one soon.”

One of the other humans, a woman named Jane Shaw who worked in med bay, had sat down with her earlier that morning to go over her… condition.

“We had to replace the lining of your lungs with a prosthetic mesh to keep them working,” she’d said, “you were out in that methane air for a while. If it hadn’t been for your Sprygan friend feeding you oxygen from their branches, you never would’ve made it.”

“I don’t think even they knew they could do that,” Liz had forced a laugh, coughing a bit. “Now, about my arm?”

“Completely scrapped. Whatever stomach acid that creature had, it melted your arm down to the bone. Can’t repair what isn’t there, I’m afraid.”

“I understand. Thanks, Doc.”

Well ain’t that something? Liz was effectively 15, maybe 20, percent cybernetic now. She told herself she’d trick out her new arm with all sorts of cool gadgets, making every effort to distract herself from the fact that she lost her right fucking arm.

“On the plus side,” she said quietly to herself as she walked toward the lab, “got another new project too.”

The door hissed open. And there was Coco, still as a tree, which she guessed made sense. She could barely see the claw marks on their trunk now, but wished she couldn’t at all. She should’ve been faster.

“Human Liz?”

“What’s up hon, you miss me?”

It’d been three days since the landing party had come back with her bleeding out in the shuttle, three days since she’d gotten to relax in their shared lab. She tapped the new glass enclosure where the eggs they’d gathered were incubating, the sign on the side saying ‘these eggs cost an arm and a leg!’ Apparently Chief Ducane had gone down there to gather what equipment could be salvaged and decided they’d be worth something to the science team. Maybe he thought he was being funny, Liz didn’t know. She did chuckle a little. Just a little.

“Human Liz, you are… okay now, yes? The reconstruction…” Coco’s leaves were shaking.

“Come on Coco, you know me, I’m totally fine! See?” Liz held up her new chrome arm, the new metallic fingers twitching at odd angles.

“That’ll stop in a few cycles, Doctor Shaw said so.”

“Human Liz, why did you do that?” Coco stood stock still in the center of the lab.

“Do what hon?”

“Why did you risk your existence[?] [life] to help me? That is not what we do on Spryga.”

Liz blinked a few times.

“Well that sucks, you all just let people get knocked off there?”

“Yes, in order to maintain the bulk of the colony.”

“Well this isn’t Spryga, Coco, and you’re my friend, of course I was gonna come get you, you asked for my help!”

“I should not have!”

Liz sat down and took a breath. This would be weird and awkward for everyone in the room who wasn’t an egg.

“You asked for my help, and I’m sorry, but I give a shit about you, and yeah, it cost me an arm and some lungs, but I was going to save you. So can you relax about it now? I mean damn, you’re my best friend, I wasn’t gonna leave you out there!”

“I don’t know what that means!”

“Yeah you do. It means exactly what you think it does. That I’m coming to get you, whether you like it or not. We’ve only known each other three weeks on this boat, but you got yourself a very attached human who’ll make sure you live, got it?”

Coco was quiet a moment. Their branches started shaking again.

“I’m very very sorry you lost a branch[?] [limb] because of me,” they said quietly.

“It’s okay hon, I wasn’t mad at you about that. I’m just glad that Grite guy launched the flare so the shuttle could come get us.”

“Grite did not set off any flares,” Coco said, confused. “After you had killed the predator, I fired one into the sky before giving you oxygen from my leaves.”

Oh I’m gonna kill that guy with my new robo arm, Liz thought.

Back burner that for now.

“So yeah, hugs and kisses, make ups all around, love you too Coco,” Liz said, using her flesh hand to brush away the stale air between them. “You wanna help me trick out my arm? I was thinking a laser pointer and a universal remote control, what do you think?”

“I think you should be focused more on rehabilitation. From my research on lifeforms like humans, you require an extensive amount of time to recover from injuries this severe. It’s actually amazing, any other race would’ve been permanently incapacitated in similar situations.”

“Yeah, humans are weird huh? Perks of evolution on a deathworld like Earth.” She tried laughing again, dissolving into a coughing fit. Coco stood watching her. Liz could feel concern mixed with just a hint of judgment.

“Okay, yeah, I got rehab scheduled every other cycle after the shift is over,” Liz admitted.

“Good,” they said, content. “If my… best friend, is not functioning properly, I would be distressed.”

Liz smiled.

“And yes, I would most enjoy retrofitting your new branch[?] [limb]. We could make it… fashionable is the word, yes?”

#deathworlders of e24 #humans are deathworlders #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are strange #humans are space australians #humans are weird #earth is space australia #humans are insane #humans are terrifying

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thecheekyblog · 16 days ago

Text

It TIIMEEES!

You all know my passion for beauty and self care especially when it is DIY ! Like there is nothing better than taking care of yourself in the comfort of your home ( except maybe a 5 star but hey we do we what we can )

So here is few homemade recipe to take care of yourself right in your casa babes!

Hair mask :

1 ripe avocado

2 tablespoons honey

2 tablespoons olive oil (or coconut oil)

Optional: a few drops of essential oil (like lavender or rosemary)

Instructions:

Prepare the Avocado: Cut the avocado in half, remove the pit, and scoop the flesh into a mixing bowl.

Mash the Ingredients: Use a fork or a blender to mash the avocado until smooth.

Mix in Other Ingredients: Add the honey and olive oil (and essential oil, if using) to the mashed avocado. Mix well until you have a creamy consistency.

Apply the Mask: Start with clean, damp hair. Apply the mask evenly, focusing on the ends and any dry areas. You can use a comb to help distribute it.

Let It Sit: Cover your hair with a shower cap or a towel to keep the mask warm. Leave it on for 30 minutes to an hour.

Sugar wax :

2 cups granulated sugar

1/4 cup water

1/4 cup lemon juice (freshly squeezed is best)

Instructions:

Combine Ingredients: In a medium saucepan, mix together the sugar, water, and lemon juice.

Heat the Mixture: Place the saucepan over medium heat. Stir constantly until the sugar dissolves.

Cook the Mixture: Once dissolved, stop stirring and let it boil. Keep an eye on it, as it can bubble up. Cook for about 8-10 minutes, or until the mixture turns a golden amber color. Use a candy thermometer to check the temperature; it should reach about 240°F (115°C).

Cool Down: Remove the saucepan from heat and let the mixture cool for a few minutes. Pour it into a heat-safe container and allow it to cool completely.

Check Consistency: Once cooled, the wax should be pliable but not too sticky. If it's too hard, you can add a little water and heat it again briefly.

Face mask :

2 tablespoons plain yogurt (preferably unsweetened)

1 tablespoon honey

1 tablespoon oatmeal (finely ground)

Optional: a few drops of essential oil (like tea tree or lavender)

Instructions:

Mix Ingredients: In a bowl, combine the yogurt, honey, and oatmeal. Mix until you have a smooth paste.

Add Essential Oil: If desired, add a few drops of your chosen essential oil and mix again.

Apply the Mask: Clean your face and gently apply the mask evenly, avoiding the eye area.

Let It Sit: Allow the mask to sit for about 15-20 minutes.

Rinse Off: Rinse your face with warm water, gently massaging in circular motions to exfoliate.

Finish with a splash of cool water to close the pores.

Detox shot :

Ingredients:

1-inch piece of fresh ginger (helps with digestion and inflammation)

1/2 lemon (rich in vitamin C, supports immune function, and helps with digestion)

1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar (supports digestion and balances pH)

1/4 teaspoon turmeric powder (anti-inflammatory and antioxidant properties)

A pinch of cayenne pepper (boosts metabolism and circulation)

1 tablespoon honey or maple syrup (optional, for sweetness)

Instructions:

Prepare the ingredients:Grate or finely chop the fresh ginger.Squeeze the juice from the lemon.

Blend: In a blender, combine the ginger, lemon juice, apple cider vinegar, turmeric powder, cayenne pepper, and honey (if using).Add about 2–3 tablespoons of water to help with blending.

Strain (optional):If you prefer a smoother shot, strain the mixture through a fine mesh sieve or cheesecloth to remove any pulp.

Serve:Pour into a small shot glass (about 1 to 2 ounces).Stir well before drinking, as some ingredients might settle at the bottom.

So girlies, i hope this helps and see you on my next blog!!!

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heartilywrites · 5 months ago

Note

Omg! I lowkey kinda binged all of your KorraxReader stories lol! I was wondering if you can write about Korra and the reader having a daughter (pregnant + birth if that’s okay with you ;)). Idk how to describe it but the spirits somehow allowed reader to become pregnant with Korras child and Tenzin confirming that it’s possible because it happened to Kyoshi and Rangi.

،، 𝓐 Glimpse of Us ; Korra

request guide | masterlist

resume: where the spirits gave you the best gift you could ask for.

content warning: domestic ; fluff ; Korra x fem!reader ; the whole fic is about pregnancy !! ; tw for vomit ; ephemeral mention of sex ; no nation nor bending status mentioned ; no use of y/n

wc: 3.6k

a/n: hi darling!!! im glad u like my fics akdhsj the partner cravings, heartburn and belly shapes are just superstition/beliefs I know around pregnancy because in my country is believed to be true and I wanted to share because I love the those ideas <3 this one was definitely one of my favorites to write, i love domestic fics <3 THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING, ENJOY:D

“ I will be protect you from all around you, I will be here, don't you cry.

Sitting beside the ceramic seat, you were almost laying down with one hand over your stomach after throwing up everything you had in, you were sure even your ideas got mixed with the vomit.

Something you ate had fucked with your stomach, you thought, but what could it be? All the foods you ingest that week were homemade, maybe the strawberry candies Korra had brought?

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “My spirits, you look like you saw a ghost.” your partners voice got your attention. “Here, I bought an electrolyte and I'm making a soup for you to eat... I think we should go to the doctor.”

You shook your hand, straightening back up and taking the bottle on your shaky palms. “I'm okay, something just...” you shut yourself up and opened again the toilet to keep returning the last pieces you had on your stomach, the girl's hands held your hair.

It was safe to say after staying another three minutes in the bathroom, Korra took you to the doctor against your will. At first they said it could be a stomach flu since there was an epidemic going on about it, but he wanted to make sure by examining you.

When you described your symptoms, you saw an eyebrow raised your way and the pen was quick to write down. The doctor had asked you to do some exams to be sure, hours had gone by and Korra was sat by your side holding your hand at the waiting area.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Maybe this is a sign for me to stop buying you sweets.” she joked to break the silence, you looked at her funny.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “On the contrary, I'm sure it's a sign that you don't buy me enough sweets.” your eyebrow was raised and she giggled.

She was about to attack again when the doctor coming in asking you to step in their office cut her off. Once they saw you settle in the seats, a couple of papers where brought up. “Okay, the results just came in and what I suspected was confirmed.” hands held together, the doctor's gaze was on you now. “Congratulations, ma'am, you're expecting.”

Any and all traces of calm smiles were dropped from both faces, Korra's gaze showed confusion your way while yours was uncertain, a mix of panic and confusion.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Wh– okay, wait, are you sure?” you asked however you could formulate. “Is this even my record? Didn’t you confuse me with someone else?”

The professional read your name out loud on the folder, you nodded. “Then it is you, miss, I would recommend you to start looking for a obstetrician or a doula, is really up to your comfort...” you zoned out, not being able to hear the rest.

The walk back home, both Korra and you were quiet trying to digest what just happened, walking one beside the other. At half of the trail, you stopped the girl with your hand on her arm.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I didn’t cheat, I swear.” you were quick to clarify, bitting the inside of your cheek, she blinked surprised.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Darling, I know... We spend like twenty-five of the twenty-four hours of the day together.” her eyes softened and took your hands. A small sigh left her lips. “I just... I don't get it...”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Fingers do get you pregnant.” you joked, feeling your face a bit warmer and Korra giggled.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “If that was the case I'm sure we should have at least a football team by now.” she smiled flirty. Now you felt your face hot, you pushed her softly. “...Do you think maybe Tenzin can help us?”

After a shrug from you, the avatar made the way for you two to go at the Air Temple Island to pay a visit to the master.

Upon arriving, everyone welcomed the two of you with open arms and excitement to see you. Korra asked the older man for a private conversation as it was important, when the three of you were alone she explained the whole situation to the man and even when both thought that he was going to think you two were crazy, his face stood calmed, a bit surprised by the end.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I see...” you took Korra's hand in yours, nervous. “Listen, kids, it's not the most common thing, but this had happened before.”

A wave of relief washed over you, thanking the universe at least maybe you had references from the past to understand this whole situation.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “How so?” the avatar asked, frowning a little bit.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Back at avatar Kyoshi's times, the spirits gifted her and her partner, Rangi, the opportunity to be mothers,” he began, you frowned a little bit. “It was... They conceived a child with their features, a biological child.”

Your eyes shot at Korra, she was already looking your way with excitement shining in her gaze. Her hand squeeze yours and she smiled. Tenzin smiled fondly at the two of you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “All I can say now is congratulations, girls.” he finished walking up to you two and hugging both. “I know you will be such great mothers to this fortunate child.”

After that visit and staying over for dinner, you two went back home with a bunch of tips and stuff Pema had given you for the journey the second she stopped hugging you so tight, happy about the news.

You still felt a bit confused at the whole situation, by the time you lay besides Korra at bed, she hold you close.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Mothers... Can you believe it?” you asked looking back at her, she opened one of her eyes and then both of them.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It feels surreal.” she answered, her free hand moved a strand of hair out of your face. “A weird gift from the spirits, but if it's with the love of my life I know it was the best decision made.”

You stood up a bit to exchange a sweet kiss with the girl. “We need to start moving our ass if we want to be ready on time for when our child gets here.” you whispered on her lips, she smiled.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I love how that sounds, our child.” now her arms hugged your neck to pull you back on top of her.

The next weeks, Korra and you started to look up for the most important things you needed at the early stage of the pregnancy. A doula was contacted and named the family's, you bought books on pregnancy and started to buy things to make a nursery on one of the guest rooms in your house.

The first trimester the one that suffered the cravings was all Korra, you remembered reading a book on how in some pregnancies the person carrying the child wasn't the one with cravings, but their partner and when that fragment popped up in your memory you found yourself giggling while Korra was eating fire flakes with a sweet sauce, she looked at you confused.

Your belly wasn’t showing much at the first half of the trimester, but you were amaze at how a tiny group of cells were taking such toll on you. You found yourself tired most of the time, always napping when you had the chance, there were foods you couldn't stand even smelling, you hated that part so much because of the nausea you were experimenting half of the time.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “My boobs hurt.” you said one night preparing for bed, pouting a little bit.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Want me to give you massage?” the girl's eyebrows played before giggling.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You just ate fire flakes, I'm not letting you touch me with those fingers.” Korra let out an offended sound, you laughed with closed eyes. “Let's sleep, my three hours nap didn't work.”

By the beginning of your second trimester, you felt changes; you passed from being tired all the time to being active shopping stuff for the baby, almost as if you weren't fatigued a week prior.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “That's my little strawberry,” Korra was talking to your belly while you were laying down looking fondly at her. It was beginning to be a tradition for her to talk to the baby every night before going to sleep. She also had started to call the baby strawberry after remembering how you two blamed the candies with said flavor she bought for your sickness. “We're so excited to meet you, baby, you have no idea what we just bought for you.”

You giggled. “And what your uncles will buy you when they learn about you.”

Before the beginning of your fourth month, Korra and you came to an agreement of not saying anything to your friends for a little bit while you got settle with the important details and thankfully your baby was also part of the agreement by not showing much, you also were grateful with the fact that the clothes you used was a bit more loose from your shape.

You two hosted a dinner for the group as a way to announce the news to them and after eating and chatting for a little while, Korra broke the news to them with the whole explanation following. The three had such surprised expression that it was funny looking, but after some questions and giving them time to assimilate the situation, they were quick to hug both.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “That baby will have the best uncles and aunt in the world.” Mako said, pulling away from you, you smiled and nodded teary-eyed by the mix of hormones and the situation.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Do you have names? Oh! Can I suggest? Bolin is such a strong name.” the earthbender said, making you all laugh a bit.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “This is so sudden, I'm so glad you told us! I will finally be the rich aunt.” Asami talked now, you hugged her with a smile.

After that announcement, Korra had made a letter to send to her parents writing exactly what she said to her friends and the context. Saying how she was excited for this new chapter in her life, how they would be the best grandparents and telling them you two would visit after the baby was born for them to meet; the two southerners sent back a letter congratulating and some of Korra's toys and clothes from when she was a baby along with a necklace from the water tribe.

The changes you felt were a lot, but you were so grateful to have Korra by your side in the whole journey to comfort you those nights you couldn’t sleep because your hormones were making you feel bad or because you had a lot of heartburn that was impossible for you to lay down for more than one minute

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You know, my grandmother used to say that when you were feeling heartburn during your pregnancy was because the baby would born with a lot of hair.” she said one night, at the end of your second trimester while leaving circular caresses on your back, you had a grimace on your face.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I would love for the baby to born with a lot of hair, but this is ridiculous, I hate it.” Korra hugged you with a tiny smile, leaving you a kiss on your head.

At the end of your fifth month, your belly had grown big enough for anyone to tell that you were heavily expecting, it was getting harder to breath normally and one day you finally were able to feel your baby.

The first communication your tiny person had with you was while you two were preparing the nursery with a cradle, a changer, a rocking chair and the toys for the baby.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Holy fuck,” you said under your breath, both hands now resting on your belly. Korra got close quickly. “No way.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Are you okay? What happened?” no verbal answer was given, your hand took one of hers and left it resting on your belly. “Honey, what...?”

Korra's voice got quieter when a soft kick was felt under her palm, teary-eyed she looked at you. The baby was starting to kick, you took it as a way for them to greet you. Tearing up a little bit, Korra left a kiss on your lips, excited.

Midway your last trimester, your back was starting to hurt and your feet were swollen all the time, adding how now you got tired so easily since you had difficulty with breathing as normal.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Tenzin told me I could do something to help you with your back pain,” the southerner talked walking to you and getting behind. Both hands cupped your belly, you were confused. “Ready?”

You nodded, with a slight frown. With all the caution in the world, Korra picked up your belly; in the act, she was picking the baby, you felt instant relief when at the feeling of less weight on your back to the point where you sighed and melted in her arms, the avatar giggled before leaving a kiss on your cheek.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Thanks to the universe for Tenzin,” you said, you felt so good. “How did he learn about it?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “When Pema was expecting Ikki her back pain didn't allow her to sleep well and he simply tried it one time she was standing and thought that maybe if he picked up her belly a little bit she would rest for at least some moments.” your head nodded, it made sense for them to have the best tips on pregnancy after four kids.

By the middle of the last month, everyone reunited a last time before you got into labor to celebrate the new baby coming to the world. A small reunion with your closest friends, food and some anecdotes, a couple brought gifts for the baby even if you two insisted it wasn’t necessary, but thank them afterwards.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I think it's going to be a boy.” Mako said, taking a seat with his plate of food.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It's going to be a girl, look at her belly,” Pema counterattacked, sure of her answer. “It's round. You know what they say, round belly is a girl, low belly is a boy.”

You giggled and turned your gaze to your now big belly, small caresses were left by your hand. “It doesn't really matter, we're going love them either way.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Yeah, as long as they're healthy we'll be good.” Korra backed you up, sitting next to you and handing a plate of food. “Strawberry will be the happiest child.”

A couple of minutes after they all left, Korra and you were picking everything up. Well, Korra was, you tried to help and she had scolded you saying that you should just relax and not worry about anything.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Korra, it's okay, I won't break water just for picking some cups.” you laughed, walking to the sink.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “No, but I don’t want you to do anything either, being pregnant with our kid is enough.” she spoke while washing the dishes, when her blue eyes looked for you and spotted you standing still in the middle of the living room, she frowned. “Did you drop something?”

Your eyes were looking at the water puddle you just made, after some minutes of silence, you turned slowly to your partner. “Don't be mad... My water did break.”

Plates and cups made noise when they dropped from the avatar's hands, drying them she run your way. “What!? Oh my fucking spirits, okay, let's stay calm, we are prepared for this.”

Still standing, a pain assimilating a cramp started to make appearance on your body, making you shut your eyes ans grunt a bit. “Honey...”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Wait, no, fuck, I forgot where is the birth bag!” the southerner started to run in circles on the house. “Where's the doula's number!?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Love..” you tried to talk, you felt out of breath at such pain extending all over your lower body.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I think I'm lightheaded,” she stopped on her tracks. “Where's the bag!?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Korra!” you screamed when the contraction stopped, she looked at you astonished. “We first go to the hospital and there we call the doula, the number is on the bag which is at the entrance.”

She nodded with a worry look, you extended your hands asking for help and she was quick to take them. Helping you to walk out of the house to the car Asami had sell you two, Korra walked at your speed, leaving strokes on your back and saying courageous words.

After that tiny panic reaction, the avatar focused in being your support during birth. Even if she didn't drive that well, Korra managed to get both of you to the hospital once she made sure everything was on the bag. She registered you and made the call while you were getting checked up. When everything was settle she sat besides you taking your hand for support and always attentive at you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “This is happening.” she said, cleaning sweat from your forehead. “This is really happening, holy shit.”

She heard a sob coming from you and panic took over.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Are you okay, baby? Do you want me to call a nurse?” she asked quickly, looking up to see if she could catch any on the way. You pulled her a bit and when she saw you, you shook your head.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I don't think I'm ready,” you whispered, embarrassed. How come you would say that until now? “I'm scared.”

Your partner smiled with warmth and left a soft kiss on your forehead. “I'm scared too, baby... But I know we're going to be great mothers, we have the best support circle with us, you can do this, my love, I know it.”

Your frown raised a bit while a weak smile showed on your face. “I love you so m–” a grunt vibrated on your throat making you stop talking and squeeze her hand.

Even when the avatar was strong and she could handle pain, the squeeze felt a bit too much. “Oh, wow, that was a big one, huh?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Mh–mh,” you shook your head and found the way to talk. “It's coming, I'm sure it's coming now.”

And that was enough to make Korra call for help. Once the doula was in the room, everything else happened a bit quicker.

While you were pushing, you had the southerner by your side cheering on you and cleaning the sweat on your face, her eyes traveled from you to the professional and back to you. The last minutes felt like hours to both of you, but the sound of crying washed over relief on the both of you; with tears in the eyes, your partner was handed the tiny bulk in a blanket.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Congratulations on the girl, moms.” the doula said with a big smile, Korra's eyes widened and shot to you. Between tears, you giggled.

Your arms stretch to her asking for the baby and when you had her in your arms, it felt like you finally were complete. Accomodating the tiny human in your arms, you could see Korra's hair color in her and it made you laugh a little bit.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “She's beautiful,” the avatar said looking at the baby from your side. A kiss was left on your head. “Thank you, love, for our child.”

Bright eyes looked up to her and smiled, exchanging a sweet kiss before turning back to the newborn when she cried again. When she opened her eyes after she was cleaned up and brought back to you at birth, iced color orbs sparkle at you and from that moment you had a feeling she was going to be Korra's copy, and you weren't wrong.

As the baby grew, the avatar's features started to show. She had the same skin tone, face form, hair color, nose type and even her personality, you would always joke to her about how you just birthed a mini Korra when the two of them did something similar at the same time. The first month with the baby had been such a challenge with the sleepless nights and how you always resorted to Pema when you two needed help with the baby. But you were sure all was worth it when you saw Korra play with her and make her laugh with the southerner's actions, you were so grateful for your family.

Visiting the avatar's parents after the baby turned one month old, Senna was the most excited one to see her granddaughter.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Oh, my spirits! She looks just like Korra when she was a baby!” she exclaimed excited while her eyes were delighted at seeing your first-born in her tiny water tribe outfit they sent, you smiled proudly and turned to the mentioned.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I told you, she's your twin.” the southerner rested an arm on your shoulders, bringing you closer while she shook her head laughing.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “What's her name?” Tonraq now asked while playing with the baby, making faces behind Senna.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Strawberry.” his daughter answer, you sighed shaking your head.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Her name is Yui.” you said, your arms hugging your partner's waist.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It's the same, Yui means strawberry!” she defend, you nodded a little bit just to let her have her win and a laugh was heard from the baby making everyone melt in love for her.

#the legend of korra #the legend of korra x reader #korra x reader #avatar korra #korra x you #korra x fem!reader #avatar korra x reader #one shot #request #korra fanfic #fanfic

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golmatolblog · 1 year ago

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Golmatol candy is the ultimate choice for a mouth-freshening experience, improved digestion, and a nostalgic trip down childhood days. With a wide range of flavors to choose from, including Orange, Imli (Tamarind), Mint, and Paan (Betel Leaf), Golmatol candy offers a delightful taste that takes you back to the cherished candies of your childhood.

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clemblog · 7 months ago

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Caine’s Lesson - Part 2

•••

Pomni screwed her eyes shut as she found herself plummeting into the sticky chocolate lake. Luckily for her, the creature who resided in such was too busy munching on Candy Kingdom citizens to have noticed her appearance.

She groaned, tired and annoyed, as she dragged herself to the shoreline. Of course her punishment had to be making her way back to the circus. Alone. At least, that’s what it looked to be! A long lonely work back to the circus

So, she got to walking. Reluctantly. If she could, she’d have just laid down and waited for the monster of the lake to eat her. Unfortunately, he wasn’t interested in her flesh. She probably wouldn’t die either. Just end up alive in some kind of stomach or digestive system like Zooble did with the gloink Queen. Caine would have to come save her and pull her back to the circus.

Which was the last thing she wanted right now.

So, she walked.

She walked until the distant sun began to set. She was surprised there was a sun at all in this kinda place, surely every thing would get a lot more sticky with the thing constantly blazing down. She’d have to ask Caine the logistics of that, once she got back to the circus.

…If, she got back to the circus.

Maybe Caine would get busy with everyone else and forget she was even here in the first place?!

That would be awful… but not unexpected. She had kinda snapped at him, a lot. Even if he had deserved it, it wasn’t exactly nice. Or nice.

He controlled her current plain of existence for [——] sake. It had happened again. Pomni had let her emotions get the better of her.

First with Ragatha…

Then… Gummigoo….

And now herself..

Her hands started to flap a little as she realised how much she’d [——-] up.

She wouldn’t blame Caine if he left her here.

She wasn’t cut out for his world anyway…

She let herself sit back against a boulder she’d stopped by. She wanted to sleep. To forget again for just a moment. But she had to be smart. Only Caine knew what kind of creatures must have been waiting for her now that night had fallen.

So, Pomni curled up in a little ball and crammed herself under the nearby boulder. It had a perfect Pomni sized space for her to do so.

The feel of the boulder was grounding, like the feeling of a big strong hug from someone as she slept.

It was exactly what she wanted right now.

So sleep was easy.

Pomni woke up to the sound of gummy birds pecking away at gummy worms. She groaned, rubbing at her face tiredly. Her sleep was fine, but the ground was still rough to sleep on. Honestly, it was lucky her jester outfit was so comfy and accustomed to fit her. Obviously, it made sense living in an AI simulation based world. But she’d never miss the grating feeling of clothing in the real world.

She got up with a stretch and started walking again. She didn’t need to eat or drink, so it was all she could do. Maybe she’d run into some of the citizen NPC’s or some other kind of gummy bandits!

…She missed her gummy bandit.

He’d made her feel less alone. Less crazy. More human. More okay.

Knowing Caine’s current mood, he probably didn’t exist in this world anymore.

He’d listened to her more than anyone else did. Instead of just yelling explanation after explanation or infantilising her. He’d listened and given his own thoughts, treated her like… a person instead of an inconvenience or a punching bag.

He was her… best friend, even if just only for a few moments.

Maybe she could find his buddies?

She hadn’t gotten their names, but they seemed nice enough!

She wouldn’t have to be alone that way either-

“Alright Pomni, you’ve got this. This is your plan now: find Gummigoo’s friends and hopefully… they’ll let you stay with them until Caine decides to bring you back.”

And so, she got back to walking again. It was the only thing she could do now, so it was peaceful and grounding. She had a plan. She could do this.

•

“You know, you shouldn’t let him treat you like that.” Hummed Zooble.

Gangle looked up from her notebook.

“I-I know… He’s just intimidating… a-and cruel, so I get scared.” She eeked out.

Zooble nodded at this, limping over to sit beside her. She’d crammed herself into a little hidey hole to escape Jax’s torment.

“You’re so brave Zooble.. I-I don’t know how you can talk to Jax normally..”

“He respects me.”

“…how?”

“Because I don’t give him what he wants. Acknowledgement.”

“O-Oh.”

“Besides, I think your drawings are pretty cool.”

“R-Really?”

“Mhm. You’re doing better than Rags over there. I don’t think she’s shut up since Pomni disappeared.”

“Mm… I- think she’s worried.”

“Obviously, anyways, enough about Ragatha. Back to your drawings.”

Zooble watched as Gangle gave a shy smile at this, happily starting to ramble about her art.

Being with Zooble felt safe.

Being with Gangle felt nice.

Sometimes nice things came about from bad situations.

Part 3

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mayorwatermelon · 5 months ago

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I’ve decided for some reason to explain exactly what it is about being stuffed that is so hot for me. Maybe it’s so that I can understand it better myself? This will probably be kind of boring for some people, but in the tradition of using this blog as a locker for all the feelings that don’t have a place in the rest of my life, I’m just gonna fucking send it.

1a) The belly itself, MASOCHISM: pain in a sexual context turns me on; the pain of being waaay too full, feeling my stomach stretched to its limit, the pain of indigestion

1b) The belly itself, sounds and other sensations: the sensation and noises of digestion, and BURPING (relief from discomfort)

1c) Visual signs; being very visibly round, distended, the difference in size, shape between empty and stuffed

2) Exhibitionism: the process of getting stuffed/bloated needs to be witnessed. This is why, no matter how hard I try, I can never manage to stay away from having some sort of belly kink blog for very long. The sensations are one thing, but without being SEEN, it doesn’t feel anywhere near as gratifying. Additionally, outside of the world of bellies, I have always had a kind of slutty desire to be seen and displayed for an appreciative audience. The idea of being someone’s eye candy is very, very hot to me.

3) Praise: related to exhibitionist tendencies, I want to be praised for my capacity, for how round and noisy my belly is, for how my burps sound. I also enjoy being praised for like, everything about my body. I am secretly (although it’s probably not that much of a secret to people who follow this blog lol) a little vain. Or maybe I just need a lot of validation. [Being degraded, described as a pig, all of that, is very hurtful to me because of stuff that happened when I was younger. Fortunately, almost everyone I’ve interacted with has been extremely chill and never assumed that I would want that (probably bc I am a guy, although I did run into some of that when I was on *shudders* feabie)]

4) Dom/sub dynamic: so there are certain situations and partners where I do enjoy being dominant, and that feels very natural, I have realized over the last few years that I am much more submissive. The thing is, I am also (usually but not always) much bigger (5’ 11”, 215) and (always) much stronger than my partner, so it always seemed more “natural” to the women I’ve been with that I would be the dominant one. And I mean, logically, if I can at least bench press you if not lift you over my head, how are you going to make me submit?

But it’s not all about physical domination! All the ways a could domme find to gain control of me without having to physically overwhelm me (or that would make physically overwhelming me much easier) are, in fact, much hotter to me. The fact that someone would want me, and to dominate me, enough that she would come up with creative ways to gain that dominance is so good. It’s hot because it breaks with conventional norms and roles, it’s hot because it means that a woman finds me desirable enough to flout convention and bend rules to take advantage of me and claim me. And the hottest way, by far, is taking advantage of my naturally outsized appetite to make sure I am too stuffed to do anything but give in to your designs for me…

5) The not very kinky but still very strong need for emotional intimacy involved in stuffing aftercare! Belly rubs are affectionate and good and sweet! It shows that not only do you think I was a good boy for you, but that you care, and that is just the best.

Anyway, this was very silly and self indulgent (so is the whole blog lol), but if anyone was curious about the “whole picture”, this is pretty close.

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mmmleckerlecker · 1 year ago

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Snack Number Fourteen

Happy vore day 2023! Please enjoy this EXTREMELY self indulgent fic that’s been cooking in my brain for quite awhile now…

Summary: The predator had always prided himself on his self-control. And he really does like to make things last. Just another night with him and his (fourteenth) favorite snack.

Contents: m/m, cruel pred, willing pred, unwilling prey, non-fatal, pre-vore, partial digestion, post-vore (aka the main focus), regurgitation, I imagined a size-difference while writing but it’s never really specified

Wordcount: 5,301

* * * * * * * * * *

The predator came home that evening feeling exhausted. And absolutely starving.

He wished he could say that his work had ended once he’d left the office just a half hour ago, but he’d be lying. He knew very well that there was an extensive pile of paperwork just waiting for him on his desk at home. It really was going to be a long night.

Ah, well, no rest for the wicked and all that.

The predator did, fortunately, have at least one thing to look forward to that night, and he was very much looking forward to it. He could barely contain his excitement, nearly bouncing on his toes in a very un-predator-like fashion. But it had been so, so long. He could forgive himself this once for his lack of self-control.

And so the predator bounced his way upstairs, right to the locked doorway at the end of the hall. He pulled out a tiny silver key, slid it into the lock, and turned.

“Good evening, my little snack,” he said with a grin, flicking on the light of the now unlocked room. “You’re looking exceptionally… recovered tonight.”

The boy— fresh out of college, still so strong and vibrant— let out a groan.

“Please,” he begged as he squeezed himself into the farthest corner. “Not again. Please… just a little longer.”

The predator entered the room and smiled in a way which he considered warm and affectionate. Unfortunately, he must not have gotten it quite right because the closer he got, the more the boy only shrank and shivered away.

“Now, now,” the predator chided, crouching down in front of the boy. “It’s been weeks since last time. We’re more than overdue.” He reached out, ignoring the way his snack flinched away, and ran his fingers over the boy’s cheek. The flesh was riddled with burn scars but otherwise healthy. “See? You’ve already healed up.”

The boy didn’t answer. The predator tried smiling again, making sure to show all his teeth.

The boy had been living in this room for months now, which was a good deal longer than many of his predecessors. The predator had no inkling of the boy’s name, all he knew was that he was Number Fourteen. He didn’t really have any desire to learn the boy’s name either. To the predator, he was just another snack. The fourteenth snack, to be precise.

You see, the predator was a master of control, and whenever he found something he really liked, he liked to drag it out for as long as possible. When he was a boy, he once bought a lollipop that he enjoyed so much, he made it last for seven and one-quarter years. Every night like clockwork, he would take precisely one lick of the candy. No more, no less. Just enough to indulge in its sugary sweet flavor. And then he would carefully wrap it and put it away for the next day. He’d prided himself on his patience and pacing, even then.

Years later and the only thing that had changed were his tastes. Now his snacks were a bit more… complex.

“You’ll need to eat first, of course,” the predator continued to his snack. “And drink. We can’t have you getting de-hydrated now, can we?”

The boy was already shaking his head, but the predator didn’t pay him any mind. He knew what was best for his snack, what measures to take to make them last the longest. He’d gone through many trials and errors.

“Come now.”

The boy didn’t resist when the predator hoisted him to his feet. He’d given up fighting long ago. The predator led his snack down the hall, down the stairs, and into the dining room, where he bade him sit at the table. The boy obeyed, his scarred face looking utterly despondent.

“What do you say?” the predator asked as he opened one of the kitchen cabinets. “Beef stew for dinner? That is one of your favorites, isn’t it?”

This, of course, was a little inside joke between the two of them. Beef stew was the only thing the boy ever got for dinner. For some reason though, he didn’t seem to find this joke very funny. The predator let out a wistful sigh. Snack Number Thirteen would have laughed. Or at least offered one of the witheringly sarcastic remarks that he so loved. Even after all these months, the predator missed their heated banter.

The predator didn’t wait for an answer from his current snack before pulling one of the many cans of beef stew off the shelf. He poured it into a bowl, then very kindly heated it up in the microwave. He put the bowl and a cup of ice water on the table before the boy. The ice water was actually a special treat for tonight. Usually he only got room temperature water.

“Go on then,” the predator urged as he took the seat across from his snack. “Eat up!”

Ever so painfully slowly, the boy began to eat. The predator watched with keen interest. Every bite of food, every sip of water, every contraction of those beautiful throat muscles, just made him all the more hungry. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. Snack Number Fourteen shifted the spoon in his hand and cleared his throat.

“You don’t have to watch me eat,” he mumbled, eyes firmly locked on his half-empty bowl.

“Oh, but I very much do,” the predator told him, resting his chin in his hand. “I need to make sure you eat everything. And I need to know exactly when you’re done and ready. And besides that… I do enjoy watching my snacks feed themselves.”

The boy’s fingers squeezed at the handle of his spoon before he took one more deliberate bite.

Number Six had been a slow eater too. Even slower than Number Fourteen, surprisingly. She seemed to think she could put off the inevitable if she ate at the pace of a turtle in slow motion. The predator had always found that amusing. He had the patience of a saint, and a bowl of stew could only be stretched out for so long.

The predator smiled lazily at the memory. This seemed to unnerve his snack who happened to glance up at that moment. With a small intake of breath, the boy began scooping his stew with a bit more purpose than before.

In a few more minutes, the only thing he had left were a few last swallows of water. The predator watched, nearly quivering with anticipation. The last drops of water rolled so, so slowly past the boy’s lips. He swallowed. He set his glass down.

The predator lunged, unable to wait any longer. In the blink of an eye, he had the boy by his shirt and was yanking him across the table. Silverware, cup, and bowl were knocked carelessly to the side. The chair toppled backward as the boy kicked his feet, struggling fruitlessly as he was dragged across the table.

Snack Number Fourteen only managed a small cry of surprise before he was cut off by his head being shoved unceremoniously into the predator’s mouth.

The predator’s eyes fluttered shut and he let out a little moan of contentment. The first taste was always the best part, in his opinion. He took his first swallow, felt the way his throat stretched, and then had second thoughts on that opinion. Actually, he thought, it was the first swallow that was the best part. His fingers curled into the boy’s shirt, clinging to him and pulling him in further.

Ignoring the way his snack groped blinding at his face, the predator took another swallow. The boy’s shoulders stretched his throat even more and gave the added bonus on impeding his snack’s assault.

The predator considered the possibility of the second swallow being the best part.

He continued this reassessment after each greedy gulp. The third one began stretching his ribs apart in a sickeningly satisfying way. The fourth one saw him halfway through, right at the boy’s hips. It was at this point, Snack Number Fourteen’s head finally entered the predator’s stomach and the predator let out an involuntary shiver. He was sure now that the fourth swallow had to be the best part. Nothing could surpass this feeling.

But then he took his fifth swallow and he was forced to scoot his chair backwards, away from the table, to make room for his now rapidly expanding middle. His sixth swallow had his stomach stretching so much, he really didn’t think it could get any better than this, but then he was only at his snack’s knees! A seventh swallow and only the boy’s toes remained out in the open.

The predator touched a delicate hand to his throat so he could feel the last of his snack sliding down. He took his eighth swallow and closed his mouth as Snack Number Fourteen disappeared fully behind his lips. The last of the boy went smoothly down his throat, and the predator winced as his belly was stretched to maximum capacity. He even winced as it pressed painfully into the table he’d so politely just pushed himself away from.

Somewhat annoyed, he took another difficult scoot backwards, freeing himself from the confines of the table edge. Once a safe distance from the table, he allowed himself to relax in his chair. His eyes fell shut and his hands wandered quite greedily to the now healthy curve of his belly. A deep contentment spread through him as his fingers searched out the shape of his snack.

The boy, for his part, was shifting and stretching within, most likely trying to find the closest approximation to a comfortable position. Somehow the predator doubted there were many such positions in there, but really that was none of his concern. For his part, he was in heaven. And there was only one thing that could make it better.

With a dreamy sigh, he gave in and let his stomach come to life with the beginnings of digestion.

A wave of pleasure crashed over the predator, easing away the stress of his work day and making all that paperwork seem like a distant memory. If he could live in one moment forever, it would be this one. Full, warm, carefree. Even his snack could barely keep still. Although, it was doubtful from any kind of pleasure. More likely it would be the discomfort that came from slowly being digested alive.

He’d be perfectly safe however. Maybe a little worse for wear, but he’d come back up in one piece when the predator was through with him. Probably. You see, this is where the predator’s superior self control came in handy. His snacks were just too good to finish off altogether, so he’d learned just how much to slow his digestion and just how long they could last under those conditions. The boy was his lollipop, and once the predator had indulged in his single taste, he’d put him back in his wrapper for next time.

After several minutes of lounging comfortably and gently kneading his stomach into submission, the predator decided he’d stalled long enough. There was a pile of paperwork with his name on it just waiting for him.

But as he sat upright, the chair squeaking in protest, he realized just how sleepy his snack had made him. And though he fought so very valiantly to convince himself that work was more important, the need for sleep won out. He deserved a little nap, didn’t he? He’d been working terribly hard lately. Of course he deserved it.

So with the resolution that it would only be a very short nap, the predator hefted himself to his feet and slowly made his way to the bedroom. The journey was made somewhat difficult by the suddenly very lively weight in his middle, scrambling for purchase with each step, but the predator fought through such tribulations with barely a moan of protest.

The softness of his bed called to him and he fell into it without hesitation. He felt his snack pushing back as it was unceremoniously pinned between his weight and the bed, but the sleep now overtaking the predator left him quite unbothered by his snack’s inconvenient location.

As his eyes fell shut, the predator double checked that he had his stomach under control and promised himself once more that this nap would only last a short while.

And then he knew no more.

* * * * * * * * * *

When the predator awoke, he found himself unusually groggy. He blinked and yawned in the half-light of his room, wondering why he didn’t feel his usual peppy self after a good, hearty nap. It wasn’t until he tried to sit up and found himself impeded by the weight in his middle that he remembered what was going on.

He checked the time and was aghast at how late it was. Internally, he scolded himself for being so careless. Where was his usual sense of self control? Not only that, but he was further worried by how unusually still the weight in his stomach was.

He grimaced as he looked down at the curve of his belly. He liked to pretend his snacks were lollipops that would last ages if he was careful enough— one little taste at a time, but sometimes they felt more like a piece of gum— chew it up and spit it out ad nauseam, but grow too careless and you could swallow it, make it gone for good after just one tiny mistake.

If he wanted to get technical, he could say that this was how he’d lost most, or rather all, his previous snacks. He’d get distracted just one time for a little too long and his stomach had its way with them. Tragic, really. So many snacks gone too soon when they still had so much to offer.

“Hello, in there?” the predator called as he poked at his engorged tummy. He felt some small hope in finding whatever was inside to still be relatively solid. “Are you still kicking in there, Number Fourteen?”

The predator jumped in surprise when he received what felt like a kick to his stomach walls.

“Oh!” he said as a second kick (for good measure, he assumed) struck another uncomfortable blow. “I thought I’d finished you off in my sleep!” he told his snack in excitement. “But you’re doing surprisingly well in there, it seems. I think you could last for another few hours at most!”

There was a pause in which the predator was sure his snack was processing this exciting new opportunity, and then Number Fourteen went absolutely feral, struggling with a ferocity he’d seemingly given up on after the first five or six times he’d been been swallowed down. The predator was impressed. His current snack was now rivaling the persistence of Snack Number Four. That one never seemed to grow exhausted or give up.

“Yes, yes,” the predator offered his assurances as he kneaded his snack back into submission, “I know you’re just as elated as I am to spend more time together.”

Another kick.

The predator gave his belly a firm squeeze, coaxing the contents within to cooperate. “But you’ll need to try to contain yourself. Or would you rather continue acting up? It does get rather difficult to control my stomach when you’re moving so deliciously about.”

His snack went deathly still.

“Thought so.”

With only a negligible amount of difficulty, the predator pushed himself out of bed and stumbled out of the room. His snack came back to life as the movement jostled it about. The predator clutched at his belly as it cramped up. He never did like walking on a full stomach.

Finally, he reached his desk. His office chair sat invitingly before a not-so-inviting looking stack of papers. He frowned, still fighting off the grogginess from his earlier nap. Even with the comfort of a full belly and a reinvigorating nap, doing paperwork felt about as desirable as pulling teeth. His own teeth, of course. The predator had never pulled someone else’s teeth, but he thought it would likely be more interesting than paperwork.

The predator turned his thoughts over and over in his head, looking for something, anything that could make the task at hand even just a tad bit more enticing.

The predator snapped his fingers as his thoughts clicked into place.

“That’s it!” he exclaimed before heading back to the kitchen, still clutching his belly to keep the both of them steady.

Yes, he’d had one snack, but why not a second snack? And not a special snack like Number Fourteen. But just a normal snack, something to munch on. Oh, he did love to munch, and his snacks absolutely loathed sharing space with actual food. They always got disgruntled and squirmy, just enough so that the predator got a pleasant internal massage out of it.

The predator threw open his pantry with relish and began digging through the shelves for something of interest. This proved to be a more difficult task than usual as the weight in his middle continually threatened to throw him off balance whenever he leaned down for a closer look. Thankfully, the predator was never one for quitting and he fought valiantly not to fall flat on his face (an effort he was sure his snack appreciated as well). After an arduous battle with the pantry shelves and his own stomach, the predator emerged victorious with his prize in hand. A somewhat simple bag of potato chips, never before opened. Now this was sure to motivate him to his paperwork.

The predator was halfway back to his desk before he fully considered the consequences of choosing such a salty snack. Of course he’d need a beverage to wash it down with, it was only sensible. He turned on his heel, then nearly turned into a topple as he forgot he was quite belly-heavy at the moment. His non-potato chip snack braced itself awkwardly against his stomach walls while the predator readjusted himself.

Next thing, in a series of events much like in the pantry, the predator was rifling through the refrigerator. When he finally stepped away, he was carrying a bottle of only the finest of cherry colas and glad to be upright and well-balanced again.

With a certainty that he was finally prepared for that hateful pile of paperwork, the predator returned to his desk. He pulled out his chair and fell into it with a grateful sigh. It was always terribly tiresome carrying around so much extra weight. It took some adjusting, lowering his seat so there was room for his belly beneath the desk, and spreading his knees so the weight of his snack didn’t cut off his circulation, but finally the predator could comfortably rest his elbows on the desk and start writing.

With a very satisfying burst of salty scents, he tore open the bag of chips. He took a bite and gave an agreeable hum. Of course Snack Number Fourteen was his favored thing to eat, but they just didn’t provide the pleasurable crunch of a good potato chip.

The predator couldn’t suppress a small smile when he swallowed and felt the consequent twitch of surprise from Number Fourteen.

“Sorry about that,” he said, patting his stomach and hoping he was hitting somewhere close to his snack’s back. He wasn’t actually sorry. In fact, he quite liked the idea of all his favorite foods in one place, but it didn’t seem very politic to say so aloud.

He apologized and patted his stomach/maybe-Number-Fourteen’s-back again when he took a swig of soda for the first time. Number Fourteen gave a jab of annoyance and a very unsuccessful shifting of positions, but other than that the predator didn’t get any further protests from his snack.

“Right then,” the predator mumbled as he leafed through his papers, “I guess the only thing left to do is get started.”

And so he did. The next few hours were nothing but the scratching of his pen and the munching of his chips. His snack was restless for a great deal of it, particularly when the predator swallowed down some soda, but nothing too distracting. It probably helped that the chips and cola barely lasted through the first hour.

When his one hand was free, the predator would rest it distractedly on his middle, appreciating the warmth his slow digestion provided. He could feel, and occasionally hear, his stomach working ever so slowly over the contents within. It was all the same to his stomach— chips, soda, another living being. It plodded along relentlessly with its one job, contracted and breaking down whatever was put into it. It brought a certain kind of awe to the predator, and he loved to help it along with the occasional doting rub.

The predator didn’t notice it happening, but all of a sudden the hour was very late. He stared at the time for a few moments, not quite comprehending how so much of it had already passed. Come to think of it, he thought as he straightened out his now completed pile of paperwork, he hadn’t felt any movement from his snack in quite awhile.

“You still hanging on in there?” the predator asked, pressing his fingers into the curve of his belly. He couldn’t help but cringe as it felt like the form of his snack was much softer than it previously had been.

“Oh dear,” he said softly. And he really had been doing so well with this one.

He was just about to give up and go to bed so his stomach could finish up the job, when he felt the weakest of movement come from deep within his middle.

“Ah, so you are still alive in there!”

As if to exacerbate his point, his snack gave another commendable effort at moving.

“Right, just one moment then,” the predator said, clumsily pushing himself away from his desk and hoisting himself upright again. “Don’t want to dirty up my office, you understand.”

Number Fourteen gave a terrible shudder as the predator began his somewhat uncomfortable walk to the bathroom. The predator cringed again with each step. The contents of his stomach felt somewhat less… solid than when he’d made his earlier trip to the kitchen. He’d really goofed up this time, hadn’t he?

He hesitated once he made it to the bathtub. There was a fine line between lightly simmered in stomach acids but still salvageable versus broken down beyond repair yet still somehow clinging to life. The last thing he wanted was to deal with a quickly expiring snack in his bathtub. He really didn’t think he could manage swallowing them down again after that. Maybe it would be better for everyone if he gave up and just went to bed, letting his stomach finish off Number Fourteen.

The predator frowned as he stroked his hand in circles over the now softened surface of his belly.

Oh, but finding a new snack was so difficult. And he really did enjoy Number Fourteen, even if the boy sorely lacked a sense of humor.

“I really hope you’re not too far gone,” he told his snack with a new sense of resolve.

With a practiced contracting of muscles, the predator began the awfully distasteful process of bringing his snack back up. While he enjoyed keeping his snacks around for as long as possible, he couldn’t say that he quite enjoyed this part of the process. If he could simply make his snack re-appear outside of his stomach, he’d lead a much happier life. But alas. Such are the sacrifices he makes to get what he wants.

After much heaving and gagging, Snack Number Fourteen pushed its way back up the predator’s throat to land in a sloppy heap on the bathtub floor.

The boy groaned as the predator leaned down to inspect him.

“I thought you weren’t gonna let me out this time.” Snack Number Fourteen’s voice was hoarse and he wheezed with each breath.

The predator cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment. The boy really was in the worst shape he’d ever seen.

“Well,” the predator started, looking for the right words, “sorry about that.”

The boy gave him a blood-shot look of pure loathing.

“I really didn’t mean to go this far,” the predator continued, unabated. “I simply got so caught up in my work that I… forgot about you. You know how it is.”

“I really don’t,” the boy replied, sounding much like what the predator imagined sandpaper would sound like if it could speak.

The predator decided the best thing to do in this situation would be to pretend he hadn’t heard his snack. So instead, he grabbed the shower head and reached for the faucet. “Why don’t we get you washed up then?”

The snack let out a startled cry as the cold water washed over his angry, red skin. The predator quietly apologized again, but it was no matter. A minute later and his snack lay motionless, eyes fallen shut with exhaustion as he let the predator clean off all the wayward stomach acid from his skin. The predator was quite adept at this— starting at the top, where the more sensitive skin was, and working his way down. There was something very satisfying about starting the process of restoring his snack all over again. But even after the predator had finished, the boy lay sprawled on the bathtub floor, eyes closed, chest rising and falling.

The predator kept silent. He did feel a little guilty. Not only that, but also a little frustrated. With his snack in this state, it would take weeks for him to be strong enough for another round in his stomach. Perhaps it was karma for the predator’s own hubris. He prided himself on his self-control, but a momentary lapse in focus had left him with his prized Number Fourteen in this horrific state. Maybe it would have been easier if he’d just accepted his loss and gone to bed. At least he could start off with a new snack right away.

The predator gave a mental shrug.

Ah well, no use crying over spilled milk and all that.

“Why don’t we get some aloe on you?” he suggested once he could no longer stand waiting for his snack to come out of whatever state he was in. Patience was a virtue, of course, but it was getting very late and the predator needed his beauty sleep just as much as anyone.

The boy’s eyes flicked open and slid to look at him.

“Fine,” was his only word.

The boy pulled himself out of the tub and took a careful seat on the edge of the closed toilet. The predator did a thorough job slathering him in aloe, something the boy seemed to appreciate.

After a failed attempt at getting the boy to walk back to his room on his own, the predator was forced to carry him there. He wondered if the boy really was so weak from his injuries that he couldn’t stand or if he was only feigning weakness as a sort of punishment for the predator’s neglectfulness. The predator supposed, in a way, this arrangement wasn’t much different than earlier, except now he held his snack in his arms, not his belly.

“Home sweet home,” the predator commented as he pushed his way into Number Fourteen’s room.

The boy began squirming at the sight of it. He made a little sound, like a cross between a groan and a growl.

“I know you’re ecstatic to see it again,” the predator told him. “Especially since you almost didn’t make it back this time.”

The boy stopped squirming. The predator deposited him on the cot at the far end of the room.

“Wait there for a moment, please,” he told the boy before heading out of the room. The boy didn’t respond, he just laid very still on his tiny bed, staring at the ceiling. The predator made sure he locked the door behind him.

He headed to the pantry and pulled out two large plastic bottles of water and another bottle of sports drink for good measure. He was about to make a beeline back to his snack when he stopped. After a night like this, the predator usually waited until the next day to give his snack anymore food, but he had nearly digested the poor boy alive this time. He didn’t want to ruin the perfectly good rapport they had developed over these special months together.

He scanned the pantry shelves for something he could give the boy as an apology. Something that really said, “Sorry I got distracted and nearly sent you on a one-way trip to my bowels.” Even the predator grimaced at such a thought.

He took some time considering all his options, until he settled on what seemed the best one. A halfway finished jar of cocktail peanuts. The jar was halfway empty because they were quite good, and the predator picked it up with a sense of satisfaction, certain he’d made the best choice to demonstrate his deepest condolences.

When he re-entered the room, he found that the boy hadn’t moved from his frankly despondent state on the bed. The predator approached, keeping the peanuts hidden from view, and set one of the water bottles and the sports drink on the wobbly bedside table.

“Get up,” he commanded the boy, prodding him with the other water bottle. “You need to drink. Being burned can leave you very badly dehydrated.” And then he stopped and re-considered. “Or at least sunburns can. I’m not too sure about stomach acid burns as, well, you know, I’ve never had the privilege of being partly digested.”

These words roused the boy. With hiss of pain, he pushed himself into a sitting position and gave the predator one his favorite looks to give— a venomous stare.

He still took the bottle and began chugging the water, stray dribbles running down his cheeks and over his exposed throat.

“I do have something extra for you,” the predator told him, unable to hide his delight. “Something special.”

The boy stopped drink immediately. “What is it?” he asked, sounding almost excited for once.

“Here!” The predator said, unable to wait any longer. He shoved the jar of peanuts toward his snack.

The boy looked down at it and blinked.

“It’s an apology of sorts,” the predator explained. “You know, since I went a little too far this time. I honestly feared you wouldn’t make the night if I let you out, and I almost gave up on you. But look at you now! I’m sure you’ll be ready for another round in no time!”

The boy’s face fell and his eyes went cold and empty. “Thanks,” he said, the word devoid of any of his earlier excitement.

“Of course, my snack,” the predator told him as jovial as ever. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it then.”

Snack Number Fourteen didn’t answer. Only gave him a look of searing hatred, his blood-shot eyes somehow burning brighter than before.

The predator only gave him a reassuring smile as he closed the door.

“Goodnight, my snack. Until next time.”

He locked the door tight behind him.

And in just a few minutes, the predator had fallen into bed, finally letting a real, deep sleep overcome him. Despite a few bumps in the road, tonight had been a very fulfilling night. The only thing left empty now was his stomach, which grumbled quietly, eagerly awaiting the next time it would get to spend a few hours working over Snack Number Fourteen.