#relieved to find I'm not as rusty as I feared

[dravenxivuk]

Lambert in @atroppa-nightshade ’s Heat Waves.

[jasmines-library]

I'll Make This Up To You

WHUMPTOBER DAY SIX: Prompt: made to watch

Summary: after being kidnapped by the joker, Jason is forced to watch you being tortured when you beg to take his place.

Warning: Blood, beating, gore, cursing, punctured lung.

Word count: 1.3k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Your entire body throbbed. Your wrists hung limply from rusty chains that dangled from the ceiling. Your bare toes struggled to relieve the burning that spread down your arms and into the sockets of your shoulders. Your toes hardly skimmed the floor, not providing you with a fraction of release from the agony in your shoulders. The groaning and clanging of the chains on the other side of the room alerted you to the other presence nearby. He was still wearing his black suit with the red bat insignia printed across his chest. 

“Hood?” You murmured from across the room, trying to grab his attention. The boy groaned, bleary eyed before mumbling your name lowly in response.

“Are you okay?” He asked, testing the strength of his chains albeit to find that he was firmly stuck. 

“Yeah” You blinked groggily. “What happened? I don’t remember anything besides-”

A blinding light piercing through the darkness. Shattering glass, a scream. Then nothing.

“The crash.” Jason finished for you. 

You were about to speak again; to utter another string of words when you were silenced by a catatonic laughter. 

The Joker barged his way through the double doors to the room. They slammed loudly against the wall as he pushed up his sleeves. Although Jason was still wearing his mask, you could sense the fear rising in his body and you could practically see the way his eyes dilated with fear.

“Isn’t this nice?” He grinned, walking around the two of you. “My two favourite birdies all in one place.”

He smiled a toothy grip his face too close to yours for comfort before whipping back around to Jason and wiggling his fingers. “How’s it hanging Little Robin? Did ya miss me?”

Jason tried to recoil from the man before him, but the chains only allowed him to swing feebly back and forth. This elicited another manic laugh from the Joker. 

“Now, I would say that I'm sorry to do this to you again, but that would be a lie.”

He ran his finger along Jason’s hooded jawline, before trailing his fingers down to his neck and to the hem of his mask which he tore from his face. 

“Hiya, Jaybird.” He said, giving him a wink. Jason stiffened at the nickname. “Oh how I missed this pretty face.”

“Fuck you.” He spat.

The Joker pulled back, placing a hand to his chest in mock hurt and cackling once more. “Your words wound me, Jason. Like father like son I see.”

The sound of an old, metal cart being pushed with a squeaky wheel by one of his goons filled the room. On top of it lay an assortment of weapons and tools, two of which you identified as yours. Another man tugged in an old camera. “I think it’s time that we send the bat a message.” his fingers danced along the edge of the tray, before he picked up a small knife and twirled it between his digits. “He needs to stop getting on my last nerve and you, my little birdy, need to learn to keep your mouth shut.”

His last sentence was exaggerated with a swing of his arm, which landed a well placed cut to Jason's cheek. 

“Hey!” You yelled, squirming against your restraints. “Get the fuck away from him!”

The suit-clad man spun around slowly, tilting his head and the knife towards you.

“Oh? The little bird has something to say. Tell me, Y/N,” He provoked as his goon removed your mask from your face. “What are you gonna do about it? What are you gonna do when I drive your very own knife through your beloved Jaybird’s heart? Hmm?”

“I told you to leave him alone.” You spat back in his face. 

The Joker's eyes turned dark as he narrowed them coldly at you. His grin dropped as he turned back around and slashed another line against Jason’s face. He grunted, eyes wide as he began to relive his past time with the villain. You felt your heart clench; you couldn’t let him go through that. Not again. You couldn’t watch as he tried to fix himself. You couldn’t watch him suffer again. 

“Stop it!” You yelled at him, only for the other man to cover your mouth firmly with his hand. You fought hard, shouting until your voice went hoarse. “Please…hurt me instead.”

The Joker stopped, a shit eating grin exaggerated across his features. “Smile for the camera.”

~~~

Your head hung limply, chin resting on your chest. Blood trickled down your temple, oozed from your nose and clung to almost every inch of your skin. Inch deep cuts lay littered across your skin, along with a multitude of  The sound that left your mouth was barely a scream as he drove the knife into the flesh of your thigh. 

Jason had tried to keep from crying out; each yell or vulgar comment leaving you with another scar to add to your collection, or another fingernail ripped out from its bed, but he couldn’t bear to watch you suffer in place of him. It made his stomach twist into knots. He prayed that Tim would be able to hack the livestream that Joker was feeding to the cave and reach you before something fatal happened.

Jason squirmed in the chains. They clanked together loudly. “Leave her alone!”

The man tutted before you, turning away and leaving the knife lodged within the muscle.The vigilante was about to let out a sigh of relief when he watched the Joker's fingers dance over the various bloodied tools and towards the wooden bat. 

Before the dark-haired boy could make another sound, the bat was slammed into your ribs. You gasped, eyes flying open as you swung on the chains. You heaved a ragged gasp as he swung hard again, crying out as you felt your ribs shatter. You let out a haggard cough, tasting the copper on your tongue as your blood coated the inside of your mouth and then dribbled from your chapped lips. The rib had punctured a lung.  

The villain's laughter morphed with the chorus your screaming and Jason’s shouting. The wooden bat clattered on the floor, but was soon replaced by Jason’s pistol. He cried out loudly.  “I hope you’re watching, Batsy.” Joker, picked up the camera, zooming in on your face. “I want you to see the light leave her eyes.”

“I’ll do you one better.” A voice sounded behind him.

Looking over his shoulder, the villain was greeted with the dark cowl of Batman’s suit. The taller man grabbed the villain, swinging him into the wall. The three other boys jumped into action, tackling the goons. Fueled with anger and determination, it didn’t take long before they were releasing you from the shackles that tugged agonisingly on your body. 

You landed in a heap on the floor, wheezing loudly as Jason collapsed to his knees beside you, fingers pressing harshly against your thigh. You whimpered. 

“I’m sorry. Stay with us, I'm sorry.”

“I’m fine- ” You coughed trying to dismiss Jay’s worry. You didn’t want him to feel any guiltier than you knew he already did. Your head dizzied as you were hoisted into the air by a strong pair of arms. 

“I’m sorry.” He repeated it like a mantra. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

You shook your head. “Jay…this is not your fault.”

“But-”

You cut him off with another ragged cough, spilling more blood from your lips. He forced his legs to move further. 

“Not your fault.”

Instead of fighting back, he decided to pull you closer. “I’m gonna get you fixed up Y/N. I promise. I will make this up to you.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY FIVE ⛤ DAY SEVEN ->

🏷️ taglist

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

Homecoming

Title: Homecoming

Part 8 of Scribe of the Gods Series: Epilogue Pt. 1

Pairing: Steven grant x gn reader (platonic), Marc spector x gn reader (platonic)

Rating: PG

Word Count: 6k

Description: Many months after the attack of Cairo, Marc and Steven have done their best to return to normalcy. While doing so, they await for the return of the Scribe, who had been away during this time to help the Ennead return to its former state. Finally, the scribe is able to return home, with much to discuss.

A/N: .... HI.

It has been... far too long. This was long overdue, and I want to say thank you to those who have been patient. It means so much to me that you all were so willing to wait while I was away, a lot has happened but I genuinely did not want to leave this unfinished. I felt like I had to finish the story. Originally, I wanted to have one single chapter for the epilogue, but I decided that I should split it up as a thank you to those who were patient. I hope you all enjoy, I'm incredibly rusty and i didn't go back to edit this because i just wanted this out so you guys know what i've had collecting dust for the last few months. 100000 percent promise that i plan to and will most likely go back and edit this, but I really couldn't wait to throw this out there. Love you all. RAHHHHHH

London library has felt more empty in the last six months now that it has one less presence. Taking the weekly trips to the library just wasn’t what it used to be for Steven, who often took the trip to rotate his book cycles for his nightly readings. Now that y/n had gone off to all ends of the earth on behalf of the Ennead, there was no one to carry the same conversations the unlikely duo had prior. Steven didn’t blame y/n or feel any ill towards them leaving him and Marc and the life they had in London. In fact all he had was pride for them. They had a big job to accomplish, judging from everything they’d told him with all of the letters they’d sent to his and Marc’s flat. Writings on postcards that served as a reminder that the scribe thought of them, that they were still around in his life.

Despite their loud absence, Steven still kept the habit of visiting the library, but not under the same urgency as before now that he was no longer as afraid of wandering about under the night sky as he was before. His relationship with Marc had finally found balance. The man no longer stayed awake at night , fearful of ending up in obscure places. Marc promised Steven that now that they were no longer serving Khonshu there was no more reason for him to leave the apartment during the night to go on missions. Steven was relieved to find this out, as it meant that he was able to put himself to ease during the night, and now he got to read for his own pleasure rather than a desperate attempt to remain awake. 

Not only that, but Steven managed to get a job at the museum- thanks to Marc’s help- as a tour guide. He needed to refresh his knowledge of Egyptology and the library had a large selection of books for him to choose from. 

Steven thanked the librarian, a rather stern sort of woman who liked to drone on and on about herbs, picking up his books with a little polite nod, and made his way out towards the exit. He paused a few steps in, looking back at the desk once more with memories of the conversations he and y/n had floating in his head.

He gave a sigh. Thank goodness they were coming back soon.

He couldn’t wait.

One last look and he made his way out of the door and into the London streets.

—----

It’s been too long since y/n stepped foot in the London Library. Six months. Give or take. They’d stopped bothering to keep track after the numerous tasks they’d completed on behalf of the Ennead. For whatever it’s worth, the six months were filled to the brim with ensuring the gods’ work in the mortal realm ran smoothly. 

The first few weeks were the worst of it. When the temple had just fallen and all the avatars had died there was nothing short of utter chaos. All of the gods were adamant for y/n’s help, insecure that they no longer had a human vessel to be able to oversee their work; they insisted that they were the first to receive the young thing’s assistance. Y/n did what they could to assist the individual gods, trying to tend to their needs in a matter of urgency rather than agreeing to any given moment.

They had to be firm about their servitude, Osiris told them after a meeting gone poorly- one of the gods had complained over y/n’s unavailability to help their request. But Osiris vouched for y/n and reprimanded the god for expecting y/n to waiting for a job to simply be handed to them, they were a human child, Horus. Where are your children now that we are all scrambling to get back on our feet?- they need to be mindful that the gods can forget themselves in their place of power. The god told the human scribe that as they continued their service and aid the gods, they had to prioritize what work needed to be accomplished. If a god came to them with a mundane task that could wait, y/n was allowed, even encouraged, to tell the god that the job will be done later. 

“If they have a problem with it, tell them that they can come discuss it with me.” Osiris would tell them this time and time again. He wanted to make certain that the scribe didn’t overwork themselves or felt the need to always say yes. And y/n took this advice, and had to use it many times, but they were grateful to have a god look out for them the way Osiris did.  

While the gods were generous enough to allow y/n an opportunity to work outside of the library, the only issue that came from this  was that y/n had no reliable place to stay. On normal accounts, before the collapse of the Ennead and their temple due to the demise of Ammit, they were able to rest between councils within the chambers of the temple. They’d find a little corner far enough where no one could disturb them and catch up on sleep while the avatars drank and caught each other up in their lives outside of ceremonial duties. 

Such was not the case anymore. All that resides in the chambers now are the ghosts of the avatars and the destruction of Ammit. Neither suitable company for the scribe to stay as they worked for the gods.

Despite all the time that'd passed, the chambers still suffered from Ammit’s destruction. Not as badly as before as every now and then y/n would lift random debris out of the way as a way to pass time, but even they didn’t have the technical skills to completely reform the chambers to what it once was. 

But six months had passed since the events of Cairo. Why was it that the pyramids and the realm of the ennead was yet to be restored? One day, amidst the gods after completing several tasks for them, the scribe inquired about this as they sat on a loose stone. Horus, in all his questionable glory, answered to the scribe. Without proper avatars, the gods had no ability to fix the destruction as they lacked a physical form. They needed humans.

Y/n thought that was bullshit, if they were being honest. They were literal gods. Why did they need an avatar’s body to be able to fix the chambers? Couldn’t a simple snap make it all better?

Whatever. It was not their place to question the gods, despite their obscurities and lack of explanations. Eventually, the chambers’ reconstruction finally started. It took longer than it should have when very few followers came for the call of Horus to aid in reconstruction, but progress was still being made. 

So, with construction happening at the temple it meant that y/n was unable to reside in the rubble of the chambers anymore. Instead, they spent their off hours in between hotel rooms and air bnbs. They didn’t mind it though, they finally had a proper bed and had a decent meal that consisted of something other than the Molokhia the gods had given them for the last six months. But really, to y/n, anywhere was better compared to staying in the london library. 

There was no point renting an apartment space when the gods started to send them to the ends of the earth for all sorts of missions. Whether it be recruiting a potential candidate for one of the gods, or scavenging artifacts stolen from the temple, the scribe had more on their plate than they’d anticipated and had no time to settle in one place for very long. They didn’t complain. The gods gave them the means to pay for living arrangements and for meals, and the pay was better than the one they received from working for the library. 

Six months. Six months was a long time, now that they thought about it. 

Thank the gods they were finally able to go home now. 

—-----

Now that they thought about it, the first time y/n had been to Steven and Marc’s apartment they weren’t even invited in. Should they knock? 

They stood in front of the door, but weren't sure how Steven and Marc would react to them suddenly showing up the day before they were supposed to. The two men were expecting y/n to show up the next day. They’d even insisted on picking them up at the airport and going out for lunch. Well, that was the original plan. Until the gods had decided to let y/n leave earlier out of gratitude and granted them a portal to anywhere they desired, it was only natural that they decided to end up at the front steps of the system’s apartment. A little surprise visit doesn’t hurt anyone, right? 

The scribe straightened up, realizing they’d spent too long standing idle at the door and needed to make a move. They raised their fist and rapped on the door several times. And when no one answered they waited a few more moments before knocking once more. 

Hm. No one was home. y/n uncomfortable shifted in place, waiting a little longer to make sure that no one was actually home before they began deciding their next move. Should they stay in place and wait for the men to come home? Would that be too awkward? Having the men walk into their apartment floor and find the young adult sitting on the space next to their door? Would it just be better to leave altogether and try to come back later? What if they miss the men again? They could always go, but the question is where? It’s not like they have a place to stay nor anywhere that seemed decent enough to crash, and-

“y/n?”

The voice from across the hall snapped y/n out of their thoughts almost immediately. Steven, in all his glory, stood at the space of the elevator that’d just opened. He stared at the scribe as though he’d unable to perceive that they were actually there. 

y/n faltered a moment, unexpected at the sight of the man faster than they were anticipating, and gave Steven a small smile, a little embarrassed that at the end of it they did just loiter in steven’s space like they didn’t want to.

“Hey, Steven.” They greeted him warmly. 

The gift-shopist turned tour-guide seemed to stumble in his words as an incoherent string of words fell numb to y/n’s ears. They tried to give him an encouraging smile, walking to steven’s space in the elevator as he remained frozen in place. Too frozen, in fact, as the door of the elevator began to shut with him still inside. 

“Uh, the door-” y/n jumped in their place, arm outstretched for the door though the gift shopist stuck their arm through in time to alert the motion detector. The doors stretched open as did Steven’s arms as he took y/n in for a big hug, which they happily reciprocated. It was the kind of hug where they teetered in place very slowly, taking in each other’s presence after months of being apart, 

“What’re you doing here so early?” Steven asked between breathy chuckles, slowly  pulling y/n away from him, they took a good look at the man and realized he’d sported a light stubble. “Ain’t we’s supposed to pick you up tomorrow?”

The scribe gave them a warm smile. “The Ennead let me go early!”

“Hmm. Are you sure it was ‘cause they couldn’t wait to get rid of you.” y/n didn’t miss the sly smirk steven sported.

“Shut up.” They retorted, lightly pushed Steven’s shoulders. “Just be happy I wanted to come back.”

The gift shopist grabbed at his shoulder and glanced at the doorstop, “Is that all you’ve brought with ye? Let me help you.” He of course was referring to the two duffel bags of y/n’s personal belongings that sat at his doorstep. For six months they’d lived off of everything in the bags and it was painfully obvious from the wear and tear of the bags themselves. Before they could insist that they could carry the items Steven already had his hands on the bags and was looking through his keys for his front door. 

The door flew right open in a matter of moments and Steven stepped to the side, grinning at the scribe as he gestured for them to go ahead. 

“Right, come on in. Make yourself at home”

—------

No matter how many times they’d reassured Steven that really, they didn’t mind, Steven profusely apologized for the state of his apartment. He droned for a few moments stating that with his new job he’d not had the time to tidy up nor did Marc want to clean after Steven, (“He says I’m in charge of cleaning up my own mess. The nerve of ‘him, talkin’ to me like I’m a child!”) all the while y/n paid little mind and allowed their eyes to wander. Yes, they’d been in the apartment once, but that was many months ago. And it wasn’t like they had the time to take it in back then. Back then, when they were observing Marc and Steven from afar under the orders of a concerned Djehuty. They hummed to themselves, remembering the late nights sitting atop of Marc’s rooftop while listening for any sign of disturbances that could happen to the men. 

Y/n sighed deeply, eyes wandering to the window they used to sit by. It wasn’t that long ago. Look how things have changed. 

From where they sat nestled in a quaint green armchair, y/n felt like they were back in the London Library. Nestled amongst an alarming number of books, manuscripts, a tombstone of forests and papetry. Every nook and cranny of the apartment was filled with paper. All that was missing from the library was the occasional bun-wearing, shushing librarians and underpaid security guards. 

“Did you read all of these?” y/n picked up a loose book resting close to them, lifting the cover to their sight.

Steven responded from his kitchenette, fiddling with three assorted mugs as he kept himself busy making something to drink for the two. “Yeah, more or less.” 

“Huh,” y/n lowered the book, smoothing their fingers across the cover as they glanced again at the books around them. “With all of these books there’s not much use going to the library. You have your own here.”

Steven walked over to the scribe and offered out their drink to them. “ I make a habit of buying books I like after reading them borrowed ones. Keep ‘em here like little trophies, yknow.”

“Oh, you’re one of those people.”

“Yes, I’m one of those people, but at least we’re a reason why you have a job at the library.”

They didn’t miss the amusing smirk that Steven shot their way as he plopped himself into his seat at the armchair opposite of theirs, not before settingy/n’s designated cup on the table in front of them. He took a swing from his own and a silence fell between the two. Doing their best to ignore it, y/n took another moment to discern the gift shopist’s apartment.

Steven must’ve noticed them observing the fish tank that stood loudly in the middle of the apartment, as he shifted in his seat and gestured to the papers that decorated the glass pane. All held up by magnets and were numerous by the numbers. y/n had barely noticed them with their admiration of the two fishes that swam inside. “We kept all your letters. Marc thought putting them up close to the water was a bad idea but I’s quite like them there.”

“Oh,” y/n let out a small smile at this, struck with warmth that the system liked the letters enough to put them up. Like drawings on a fridge. “I didn’t think you’d do that.”

“Of course we would. Marc wanted to know what you were up to, and liked to keep note of where you’s been since you had to be secretive about it.” Steven beamed proudly, standing up to approach the fishtank. 

“It was a necessary sacrifice,” y/n spoke, leaning over to grab their drink that Steven had prepared for them. “This was the best way I could keep in touch.”

During their time in the ennead, y/n was unable to communicate to marc and steven very often. Communication through modern devices were limited due to risks of tracing and exposing their location from those with malintentions. To help their friends know that they were still alive and well, the young avatar developed a habit of sending postcards to the system from locations they were sent to during a mission. Most of them were written with the generic, “I’m having fun’s” and “Wish you were here’s” to maintain obscurity, but y/n never missed a chance to send them so that Marc and Steven could figure out their last whereabouts from where the postcard originated from, and be relieved by the very fact that they were still alive and well. 

 “Wells,” Steven hummed to himself, turning to give the avatar a small smile as he returned to his seat. He had collected several postcards from the fishtank and waved them in the air before dropping them onto the table. Y/n watches the postcards splatter across the table, recognizing the images on the postcards from places they went to during their trip. “You have to tell us about your trips.” 

And so the scribe told Steven about their life the last six months. Giving an explanation to why they were so absent outside of handwritten letters. As they spoke Steven gave them all of his attention, sitting at the edge of his seat, forearms rested on his knees as he leaned in to every word they spoke. They made sure to speak in great detail as they continued, knowing that the gift shopist had waited a long time to be able to hear their experience firsthand. Marc finally made an appearance to make his own comments. Immediately y/n was ecstatic to hear from the marine and they began to catch up amongst themselves like they did with Steven minutes prior. By the time they were finished their mugs were empty and the sun had set.

“They had me go out and find the avatars,” y/n continued telling their story to Marc, pulling out a map from one of their bags and displaying it onto the coffee table. Marc leaned over, eying the jumbled scribbles written all over the world, marked with locations and field notes from your travels. “The gods, they chose their patrons from different parts of the world, Marc. I-I mean, I had to go to the most obscure places, finding these people, I even ended up in Jersey City, of all places looking out for this one girl-”

Marc closed the front door as he watched y/n run to their bag for the map, carrying takeout from a Vietnamese restaurant down the road. At some point during their conversation he proposed that they went to get some food. He chuckled at y/n’s demeanor now that they finally got to take out the map that they said they wanted to show him, gushing over their trips. 

“The Jackals are from Jersey,” Marc sat himself back in the chair, opening up the bag and placing their food onto the table. He lifted up a box, opening it up to make sure that he didn’t get the food switched, “My old man took me to one of their games back when I was a kid.”

He frowned at his food, eyeing the noodles. Steven began looking around the table before reaching his hand back into the bag, shuffling through napkins. “Bollocks, I think they’ve forgot my peppers.” 

“They’re here,” y/n took a small container of peppers from their side of the table and handed it over to Steven, eyes still trained on the marked locations of the map. He gave them an appreciative smile, humming as he opened up the container and poured its contents over the steaming bun bo hue he’d ordered.

He took a large bite of his food as he leaned over to take in the map displayed before him, trying to make sense of the scribbles. “Did you find all of them?”

Y/n nodded, finally reaching to grab their food. They couldn’t help but smile in content at the food when they flipped the box open. “I did. Finding them was the easy part. A lot of them were still distraught and panicked over the fact that the gods were real. One guy was so convinced that someone snuck him drugs and he was having a really bad trip. Other people took the whole thing really well, but a majority of them needed as much help as they could get from assimilating to the concept that an Egyptian god chose them as their patron.”

Marc nodded knowingly at them, “Not everybody is okay with the whole ‘gods are real’ schtick.” 

The scribe stopped looking over their map to gaze at Marc. They hesitated for a moment. It had been a really long time since they’d seen Marc, they realized now that they really had no idea of how he’s been since the attack on Cairo, whether the attack had left him with any mental troubles or injury now that Khonshu’s power was no longer there to speed up his body’s natural healing process. On the topic, y/n was greatly concerned on how Marc and Steven had been handling themselves now that they were no longer indebted to Khonshu. 

Y/n hesitated a moment as they observed Marc, who was keeping himself occupied with his meal now that there was a bit of silence to dwell in. 

Finally, they spoke. They were sure that Marc could be able to hear the hesitence in their voice, but it was too late to stop now. 

“So, how have you been? Like, with Khonshu and everything.” 

Marc said nothing for a moment. Finally, he deeply sighed. He kept his eyes trained on his soup, picking at the noodles with his utensils as he slowly spoke. “I feel much better, I would say”

“Yeah?” Y/n responded. They reached for a napkin laying on the table. 

Marc nodded. He shifted himself to lean forward more on his knees. “Like, you know how we were pretty much forced to serve Khonshu? Well, now that that’s over with, I feel like I can do whatever I want now,” He let out a sort of dry chuckle, seemingly pondering over his own words. “Like, I never understood how limited our life actually was… it feels really… open now, do you understand that?”

He continued, not waiting for the scribe’s response, a look of content written on his face. “Honestly, I feel good about it.”

Marc didn’t sound like he had any doubt about his decision to end the system’s relationship with Khonshu. When he spoke, he sounded so sure of himself and where he was currently, trying to return to normalcy after Cairo. Well, as normal as it can get for people like them, y/n reminded themselves. There was no way that either of their lives would ever be the same. They were forever thrusted into the world of the gods, and even though Marc and Steven had chosen to retire that life, y/n knew very well that they were still a pawn waiting to be used in the eyes of the gods. They just hoped that that would never be the case. For Marc and Steven’s sake, they deserved to have their retirement be undisturbed. 

“That’s,” y/n began, trying to find the courage to speak after realizing they’d remained silent a little too long. They blinked several times. “That’s great. That’s really great. I’m happy for you two.”

Steven beamed at them, shifting in his seat after putting his meal back on the table. “Ye, it is really. I’s been real nice not havin’ any more trouble at work because of that nasty old crow.”

“He caused you both more harm than good,” The scribe nodded knowingly at Steven’s words. 

Steven swallowed another portion of his soup, rubbing off the droplets that trailed from his lips. He cleared his throat, but y/n’s attention was fixated on the napkin he’d dropped on the table. He didn’t wait for the scribe to acknowledge him, but they were able to hear the way he was trying to tread lightly as he spoke.

“Speakin’ of the gods,” He began slowly, waiting a moment to make sure that y/n had nothing to say before he continued, “now that you’re done workin’ for the Ennead, have you put any thought to what you’re going to do with Djehuty?”

It was obvious that this question came to y/n as a surprise when they jolted at the mention of the god. Steven hummed anxiously and raised his hands toward the scribe, profusely apologizing for bringing up the god in question.

“No, no it’s fine,” y/n raised a hand to reassure Steven. “It’s just, it’s the last thing I want to think about right now. Djehuty hasn’t approached me since I first started working for the Ennead, and everyday since then it’s been this waiting game of when he’ll actually show up again. I’m a little on edge, I guess.”

“You still don’t want to see him?” Marc stood up. He stretched his arms into the air briefly before throwing them down again, observing the contents on the table. By this time, all of their food had been finished save for the spring rolls they’d decided to split together. There was one left that sat there for a lot longer than it should have, neither y/n nor marc wanted to be the person to take it out of courtesy. 

“No,” y/n glanced up at Marc. He stood over the scribe with the spring roll offered out to them, they gave him a brief monotonous look before accepting the spring roll from him. They inspected it before taking a small bite. They hummed, scanning the table for peanut butter sauce while Marc began clearing the plates away. 

“Why is it you don’t want to see Djehuty, again?” The utensils clinked in Marc’s hands as he gathered up what he could, swiping his finger into the peanut butter sauce as y/n grabbed the container. He raised it to his mouth to taste and made his way to the kitchenette to dispose the takeout boxes. 

“ ‘cause most likely he’s going to ask me to be his avatar again,” y/n states after swallowing from their bite. The scribe took another bite of the roll, gathering their own mess of napkins and peanut butter sauce and making their way to where Marc was in the kitchen. They spared him a glance as they approached. He had this look on his face that told them that he was choosing his next words carefully. 

They opened Steven’s fridge, eying for a spot before placing the peanut butter sauce somewhere for Steven to taste later. Marc reached for his drink from the countertop, “And what would your response be?”

There’s a pause. And Marc is observing y/n with a look on his face that made them feel like they were being read like an open book. 

y/n straightened themselves up, slowly closing the fridge door to look at Marc with skepticism in their eyes. They had yet to say anything to the ex-marine, but they didn’t have to when the look that they gave him told him that he was pushing a nerve with them. But 

“You’re talking to a guy who’s well-versed in this whole avatar schtick,” He crossed his arms, leaning his weight against the kitchen counter. The man gazed at y/n with a look, “I know coping mechanisms when I see one. Instead of facing Djehuty head-on, you decided to play it safe and hide behind Ennead, but now that you’ve ditched that strategy, you’re still avoiding Djehuty even though you’re technically still his avatar. I just want to know why exactly it is you’re doing that, that’s all.”

y/n turned away from Marc, uncomfortable at the pressing question he’d asked them. They tapped their fingers against their upper thighs in an attempt to dispel the anxiety growing inside of them.

“Its just that,” they began slowly, articulating the feelings they had kept to themselves for so long into words as they spoke. They hadn’t thought that they would share this with anyone this soon, let alone the System. “if I wasn’t his avatar… then what would I even be? I can’t even imagine what I would become. It’s all I've ever known. It’s the reason I’m alive.”

“Well, yeah, its why you were alive the first time.” Marc countered plainly, a resting his face onto his open palm as he had his weight on his knees.  He didn’t miss the glare that y/n had shot him. They didn’t like to be reminded of the whole situation they’d had with Djehuty in the Duat. Although Marc did his best to respect it there were times where he wasn’t shy to tell them how it was. It struck a nerve with them every time he did so. 

“Yeah, cause who wouldn’t want their entire existence defined by being a puppet for an ancient deity. At least I wasn’t dumb enough to be manipulated into it.” 

Marc blinked at y/n’s words. He leaned back slightly, eyes fixated on the scribe as they snapped at him with a hostile air to them. He was unable to see their face as they had turned their head away from him, but he knew deep down that their outburst at him was simply a defense mechanism, a way of protecting themselves from the blunt remarks and sudden pressure to answer questions he’d put them under without warning. Marc didn’t blame them for lashing out in such a way, he probably would have done the same too if he was in their position. 

Slowly, Marc sighed from behind y/n. They could hear the slow movements he made behind him as he made his way to refill his water from the sink. They sighed, pushing their hands to their face and wiping it across their eyes. They’d forgotten themselves in that moment, and felt guilty at how they responded to Marc’s questions, he was kind enough to invite them to food and there was too much time that had passed between the two to snap at him, even if it was through a joking manner. 

“Look, Marc-”

“No, I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. I’m sorry for pushing your buttons.” Marc stood by the scribe, clamping a firm hand onto their shoulder. He had faced them now, carrying a water in his hand as he offered them a small nod, acknowledging his words. He extended the glass in his hands towards them, waiting for them to take the cup from his hands before patting his open palms onto the pockets of his pants. He seemed to be looking for something as his eyes searched the room. 

“You know what? It’s been a long day, I’m sure you’re tired after all that traveling.”

“I literally went through a portal,” Y/n couldn’t help but smile at the marine with an incredulous look on their face. 

“Well you’re still in Egypt, aren’t you?” Steven mused, raising his eyebrows at the young thing. y/n rolled their eyes at Steven's whit. “It’s a whole two hours difference. What is it… it’s midnight for you, right, let’s get you ready.” y/n groaned at the statement. They weren’t tired at all from their journey. Steven was only using that as an excuse to go to bed early. They knew that he and Marc, despite being in their late 30s, were really just old men who slept for more than they should. 

“You can take the bed tonight, y/n. I’ll set up the couch for myself-ah.” Marc raised a hand to them with a firm voice telling them that there was no room for arguing. “You’re taking the bed. Tomorrow we can regroup and have more time to figure out what we’ll do now that you’re here.”

Marc left their side with one more pat before he approached a cabinet on the far side of the room. He opened it and pulled out a few blankets and a pillow before making his way to the couch. y/n observed the marine from their place in the kitchen, not daring to move until they were certain that the man was not at all disturbed by their presence. They kept watch as he made a hmph, releasing the noise while plopping himself across the couch with a blanket over him and a book in his hands.

The scribe, still unwilling to move from their place, observed the marine for a little bit longe, hoping to find reassurance that he held no grudge against them for their earlier attitude. They watched closely, but neither Marc nor Steven showed any visible signs of resentment. Instead, Steven gave them one last look, offering a genuine "goodnight" before settling down with his book.

Filled with a mix of relief and lingering guilt over their behavior, y/n glanced between the man in the couch and the bed they'd offered to him. They looked back at Steven, and after a few moments realized that they were fully staring at the man who had clearly told them goodnight. Slowly, they walked past the couch and took a peek into Steven and Marc's designated sleeping spot in their open apartment. Not to the scribe's surprise, their bed was surrounded by mountains of books that Steven had collected. Despite the overwhelming number of books it all seemed to be a sort of organized mess that only Steven could understand.

The scribe took their bags from the floor beside the couch where Steven read their book and took out some pajamas and bathroom bag. They made sure to stay quiet while they went to change and prepare for bed, scared that if they made too much noise, they would bother Steven. In the bathroom, they pulled out a shirt that read "I survived my trip to NYC," a memento they bought from a subway giftshop during a recon mission on behalf of Horus. Slipping the shirt over their head, y/n caught their reflection in the mirror.

Staring at themselves, they recognized their own face staring back at them, but a nagging sense of detachment washed over the scribe. The conversation Marc tried to have with them minutes before was fresh on their mind. They stared at themselves in the mirror, eyes flickering between one another as they tried to discern what exactly it was, they were feeling.

y/n raised their hands to grab onto the fabric of their shirt, looking down at the words as they rubbed their fingers across the fabric. Suddenly, the shirt's message seemed to mock them. The only reason they were able to get this shirt was because of their work for the Egyptian deities. In this life that they'd lived, they'd accomplished so much. They'd made a name for themselves amongst the gods and had earned their respect, but even that didn't outweigh the dangers and mental exhaustion that came with being an avatar.

But it was all that they'd ever known. This life. The life of servitude for the Egyptian gods. y/n had confidence that if they were to continue their involvement in the affairs of the gods, including Djehuty, the scribe had no doubt that they would thrive.

But was that really what they wanted? y/n slowly let go of their grip on their t-shirt, raising their hands to their face as they observed themselves in the mirror.

This was something that the scribe had contemplated since the first day they began working on behalf of the ennead. They agreed to help the gods reform the Ennead so that when it came down to it, they could go to the gods and ask them to return the favor out of the kindness that they may be able to show to an avatar that dedicated so much time to them.

The scribe had enough of staring at themselves in the mirror, hoping to pick up their toothbrush and toothpaste. They poured a dollop of paste to their brush, raising the toothbrush to their mouth, leaning over the sink to brush their teeth.

On the other hand, they pondered while brushing, there was the very big resentment towards Djehuty that held them back from being so willing to work for him again. Djehuty, who had betrayed their trust long ago by revealing that he'd stolen their soul without disclosure. They found it extremely difficult to fully trust that old bird, fearful of being deceived again.

But... despite their reservations, y/n grappled with the uncertainty of letting go. Being an avatar and serving the gods had become their identity, their purpose. It was all they had ever known, and the thought of severing that connection to become a normal human filled them with uncertainty of what their human life would hold in store for them.

Could they even do it?

If they were being honest, y/n was very jealous of Marc and Steven. The men seemed to have severed their connection with Khonshu so easily. They barely even hesitated. Now the men were building a life of their own, getting jobs, healing.

The young avatar spat out into the sink, cleaning any paste that covered their mouth before finally leaving the bathroom. They entered into the dimly lit apartment, slowly making their way to Marc and Steven's bed, not without sparing a glance to the couch where the system was settled in. Probably still reading their book. They made a mental note to themselves to ask about the book at a later time, when they'd find a good opportunity.

As they settled into the bed, y/n covered themselves with the blankets Marc had laid out for them. It felt peculiar to sleep in the bed of another man. The scribe felt like they were completely violating the system's personal space, despite Marc insisting on the arrangement, assuring them that it was completely fine.

They stared up at the ceiling, unsure if they were quite ready to sleep yet. The scribe hummed, turning to their side after some time, They listened to the water filter of Gus the Second's fish tank hum amidst the stillness of the night and the occasional turning of page as Steven flipped through his book. In the moments before sleep finally took over the young thing, y/n laid in bed and observed Gus the second swimming around in his little home. They could see him clearly, swimming and exploring in his own little world, and they couldn't help but wonder if Gus ever caught glimpses of Steven and themselves about the apartment and dreamt of leaving his home in the fish tank to explore Steven's apartment.

-----------

@astrobuzzsstuff

@blustalker

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[kyndaris]

L.A. Calling

From one red-head protagonist to another, I thought the brief lull during the holiday season (for games I was interested in anyways) would be the perfect opportunity to try out the Burning Shores DLC for Horizon: Forbidden West. After all, there was a reason why I kept the game despite finishing it after a hundred hour marathon of a month gaming last year. That reason, of course, was to ensure I knew the new story threads leading into the third game. But with the passing of Lance Reddick, it was also a chance to catch a glimpse of his last performance as Sylens - Aloy's reluctant ally.

So, from the highs of the Star Wars universe, I plunged back down to a post-apocalyptic Earth where robot dinosaur roam and a rogue A.I. is hurtling back to destroy what remains of humanity. Good stuff!

Following on from the ending of Forbidden West, Burning Shores sees Aloy heading down to the ruins of Los Angeles after being notified by Sylens that Walter Londra, a member of Far Zenith, had headed there following his arrival on Earth. Aloy agrees to investigate and heads down the coast on the back of a Sunwing.

As she approaches the the remains of Los Angeles, Aloy is shot down by a drone tower. With the help of Seyka, a member of the Quen, they take down the machines in the area before heading to Fleet's End: the settlement the Quen have made since floundering in Los Angeles after a typhoon.

It isn't long before Aloy agrees to help the Quen out and find their missing people. And it certainly wasn't very long before I was scrambling across the map of old Los Angeles to scrounge up collectibles and completing the scattered side quests and errands available on the map.

Could it have benefited with having a Tallneck to climb up? Yes, but given Aloy had flight on her side (granted soon after taking down the first drone tower), it wasn't very long before I managed to explore most of the map and engaged with a few select new machines like the Bilegut and the Stingspawn.

From a narrative perspective, Burning Shores didn't really add anything new to the overarching plot except another scavenger hunt across an open world for a weapon to take down Nemesis. Or, perhaps, the third game will truncate the search a little by focusing it once more in some area of the North Americas. Here's hoping, though, the Horizon series takes our allies across the seas and try something a little more different from the remnants of the ol' United States of America.

At the very least, though, Aloy walked away from the adventure with a new ally she was keen to work with. All throughout the DLC, Seyka stayed by Aloy's side and proved to be an effective fighter. Was it any wonder she proved to be Aloy's first actual love interest?

Both of them are capable warriors and hunters of machine. Both are practical problem-solvers, doing what needs to be done instead of fussing about if it'll offend someone's sensibilities. And both are driven.

I'm actually somewhat relieved Aloy didn't try to push Seyka away. Although, it did take her a while to finally admit the impending threat that was Nemesis heading back towards Earth, keen to destroy the Earth. Still, Seyka had her own secrets when it came to her sister and her fears Kina had willingly joined up with Walter Londra (a fairly forgettable antagonist) who was willing to irradiate the surrounding land in order to escape back into space and be surrounded by a loving and brainwashed cadre of followers.

Combat-wise, Burning Shores added in a few new different skills to tackle on enemies. In the end, though, I found myself still relying on tried and true abilities. Given it had also been a year since I last played Forbidden West, my skills were also quite a bit rusty. So, I'm not ashamed to admit I did dumb the difficulty down just to ensure I could enjoy the story rather than struggle in a high-end area because I'd forgotten Aloy couldn't parry attacks like Cal Kestis or that the way she normally tackled enemies was from afar with ranged attacks.

It was also a matter of relearning the status effects of the game, like drenched and frozen and shock and corrosion.

Targeting weak points also proved to be a trying affair after all the different games I'd played over the year. Especially given how the machines move and make it difficult to target the one spot that'll do MASSIVE damage.

Or maybe I just need to 'git gud' as the pro gamers like to say.

Overall, I enjoyed my time with Burning Shores. It was good to dive back into the Horizon universe and tackle on a map that wasn't as large as the base game. It also helped there weren't a ton of collectibles needed to be found and unearthed. So, my map wasn't entirely pockmarked with '?' to drive my curiosity and insatiable need to uncover every. Single. Point. Of. Interest.

Thank goodness for small mercies.

Now, if you'll excuse me, there are huge open-world games where I need to collect a thousand and one items calling my name.

[basketoflemons]

Movie Script #1

**Scene: A basketball court. The court is surrounded by tall trees and colorful flowers. The sun is shining brightly and the sky is clear and blue. The court itself is made of smooth concrete with faded white lines. The hoop is rusty and bent. The ball is old and worn out. Two friends, Alex and Bob, are playing a one-on-one game.**

Alex: (dribbling the ball) So, what did you think of the art exhibition yesterday?

Bob: (trying to block Alex) It was...incredible.

Alex: (shooting the ball) Incredible? How?

Bob: (rebounding the ball) How? It was a brilliant satire of the sports media.

Alex: (chasing Bob) Satire? What are you talking about?

Bob: (passing Alex) You know, those paintings of basketball press conferences.

Alex: (stopping) Oh, those. They were awful.

Bob: (scoring a basket) Awful? No, they were genius. They exposed the hypocrisy and absurdity of the journalists and the players.

Alex: (shaking his head) No, they were just mean and stupid.

Bob: (laughing) Mean and stupid? No, they were funny and smart.

Alex: (blushing) Funny and smart? How?

Bob: (teasing) How? Well, for example, there was that one painting of LeBron James crying after losing the finals.

Alex: (angry) That was not funny. That was cruel.

Bob: (handing Alex the ball) Cruel? No, that was hilarious. He deserved it for being such a crybaby.

Alex: (taking the ball) He did not deserve it. He's a great player and a great person.

Bob: (smirking) Oh, yeah? Is that why you have his poster on your wall?

Alex: (embarrassed) What? No, I don't.

Bob: (lying) Yes, you do. I saw it when I visited your house last week.

Alex: (denying) No, you didn't. That was not my house. That was my cousin's house.

Bob: (mocking) Sure, sure. Your cousin's house. And your cousin's poster. And your cousin's jersey. And your cousin's autograph.

Alex: (breaking down) OK, OK. Fine. You got me. I'm a huge LeBron fan. I love him. He's my idol. He's my hero. He's my everything.

Bob: (bursting into laughter) Oh, man. You're pathetic.

Alex: (crying) Stop laughing at me!

Bob: (still laughing) I can't help it. You're so funny.

Alex: (sobbing) Leave me alone!

Bob: (wiping his tears) OK, OK. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.

Alex: (sniffling) Really?

Bob: (lying again) Really.

Alex: (calming down) OK.

**Suddenly, the ball floats gently into the sky, as if lifted by an invisible force. Alex and Bob stare at it in disbelief.**

Alex: (confused) What...what's happening?

Bob: (shocked) I...I don't know.

Alex: (scared) Is...is this some kind of prank?

Bob: (panicked) No...no, it's not.

Alex: (worried) Then...then what is it?

Bob: (terrified) I...I think it's...it's...

**The ball explodes in a burst of bright light and loud noise. Alex and Bob are blinded and deafened by the blast. They fall to the ground in pain and fear.**

Alex: (screaming) Aaaah!

Bob: (screaming louder) Aaaah!

**The light fades and the noise stops. Alex and Bob slowly open their eyes and ears. They look around and see that everything is normal again. The court is still there, the trees are still there, the flowers are still there, the sun is still there, the sky is still there. The only thing missing is the ball.**

Alex: (stunned) What...what was that?

Bob: (stunned too) I...I have no idea.

Alex: (looking at Bob) Are...are you OK?

Bob: (looking at Alex) Yeah...yeah, I think so.

**They get up and dust themselves off. They check their bodies for injuries or burns. They find none.**

Alex: (relieved) Thank God we're alive.

Bob: (relieved too) Yeah...yeah, thank God.

**They hug each other in gratitude and relief.**

Alex: (hugging Bob) I'm sorry for being mean to you.

Bob: (hugging Alex back) I'm sorry for being mean to you too.

**They let go of each other and smile awkwardly.**

Alex: (smiling awkwardly) So...um...do you want to go get some ice cream?

Bob: (smiling awkwardly too) Sure...sure, why not?

**They start walking towards the exit of the court. As they walk, they notice something strange in their reflections on a nearby window.**

Alex: (noticing his reflection) Hey...hey, look at that!

Bob: (noticing his reflection too) What...what is it?

**They see that their faces have swapped places with each other's faces. Alex has Bob's face and Bob has Alex's face.**

Alex: (shocked by his new face) Oh no!

Bob: (shocked by his new face too) Oh no!

**They scream in horror as they realize what has happened to them.**

Alex & Bob together : Aaaah!

**End of script**

[nymphbnny]

insane

MINORS DNI // 18+

genre: nsfw

pairings: choso kamo x female reader

tags/warnings: dilf choso, daddy kink, spitting, degrading/praise kink, choking, dilf next door lmao, oral (receiving f), mxf, slapping.

word count: 2.2 k

synopsis: a new neighbor comes to live in the house next to yours, his bedroom window facing yours. what could possibly go wrong right? it's not like he'll catch you touching yourself while you're shamelessly watching him jerk himself off.

a.n: hey babies! just wanted to apologize for the late updates but i'm exhausted and it's hard for me to gather the energy to do anything at all. i hope this makes up for my absence though. i love you all <3

I wasn't technically doing anything wrong right? Perhaps I was being shameless to push my hand down my panties and caress my wet folds as I stared, more like gawked, at the naked man from my bedroom window as he rubbed himself, his lower parts perfectly displayed from his room to mine. I wasn't like that all the time, creeping up on my new neighbors and fucking myself as I watched them do the same to themselves.

But this man was scrumptious. I caught him two days ago pulling up in the empty parking lot, carefully helping his son out of his car seat before making his way to his new house. I wasn't going to act oblivious to his arrival, the whole neighborhood saw the pickup trucks and the tons of packages that were daily delivered to this place. When the rumors began spreading about him being divorced with a child, raising him on his own, assumptions flew by fast. He's probably poor, bad-looking, abusive, or even old. Which caught us all by surprise when we saw him for the first time. Big ass tattoo across his face, long tied up hair, muscular frame. Simply delicious.

My fingers fastened their pace once I felt a tight knot form in my stomach, I threw my head back against my pillow as my thighs shook, imagining him fucking me instead of his fist. I would feel so much better, he would feel so much better. Soft moans escaped my lips as my pussy gushed around my fingers, my eyes rolling back to the unholy thoughts that were forming in my head. I sat up with half-lidded eyes and realized that he was wiping himself up. What I wasn't anticipating, was him casually looking around and locking eyes with mine. I abruptly dropped back on my bed, my breath caught in my throat. Please, please, please tell me he didn't catch me looking at him.

I waited a few minutes before sitting up again, relieved to find his window closed. I let out a deep breath and walked myself to the bathroom, hoping that I wouldn't have t ever bump into him.

Three days passed by and I limited myself from looking out of my window in fear of catching him doing something lewd again. That was until I had to go grab my mail one morning and the mailbox wasn't fucking opening. "Rusty ass bitch." I cussed hitting a few times, hoping it would respond to violence and stop testing my patience today. I groaned in annoyance when my efforts went in vain. I heard heavy footsteps approach me, my head slightly tilting to acknowledge the male who was coming my way. My heart dropped when I saw him, out of all people, jog towards me, in his tight jogging clothes, sweat glistening over his forehead, a slight trail of sweat across his white t-shirt that was sticking to him making his pecs stand out. Fuck.

"Hitting it won't make it budge." he chuckled and towered over me, moving it carefully and tactically. I was too busy staring at his hands to realize that he had opened it and was waiting for me to grab my mail and thank him. "Oh, I'm sorry, my mind wandered elsewhere. Thank you a lot," I smiled sticking my hand in the box mail and grabbing whatever was there. "Would you like anything to drink? Hydrate yourself a bit?" I asked him trying to seem as polite as I could, however internally wishing he would refuse and go on with his day. "If you don't mind of course. I sent my boy to kindergarten and went for a job and I'm as a matter of fact dying of thirst." He chuckled wiping off his face. I know something you could stuff your face in to keep you hydrated... I slightly shook my head and smiled approvingly, walking us to my place. We made our way to my kitchen before he made himself comfortable on my stool and I opened my fridge to reach for a water bottle, sliding it across the granite counter for him to catch.

He rose his eyebrows as a thank you and popped off the lid, gulping the water down his throat in a swift motion, his adam's apple going crazy before he put down the empty bottle back on the counter and wiped his mouth, a long satisfying sign escaping his lips. My thighs pressed together as I attempted to ignore the tingles that were forming in my core. I looked down at my feet not knowing what to say next, before his feet were near mine, making my eyes go up, his face now above mine with a sly smirk on his face. "I appreciate the hospitality," he paused so I could tell him my name, "right, but you know sweetheart," he lowered his lips to my ears, my hands reaching back to grip onto the wooden table. "Stalking your neighbors getting their business done in order for you to get yours done as well isn't very proper from a little girl like you right?"My eyes opened wide in shock and realization.

Not only he had caught me, but I was also encaged by his tall frame against my table. "I-, I'm so sorry, I don't, I don't know what to say-" "Tsk tsk tsk, you know I could inform the cops about that right?" he threatened with a sly grin, now holding my face up. "Please don't, I apologize if I bothered you, I didn't mean to I was-" he cut me off again. "Too horny? Desperate? Lonely?" he chuckled and my core clenched at the degradation. "I would go to them if it had bothered me, but again who said anything about that darling?" My face turned red at the frustration of it all. I was speechless and he knew it. "It intrigues you right? To know if I would fit in your tiny hole?" I gasped at his vulgar question, but who was I kidding... I've been waiting for this moment to happen ever since I watched him from my balcony coming into the neighborhood. With the small percentage of courage, I had left in his presence and some issues I've been carrying for years, I nodded and pushed myself closer so our bodies would be touching.

"You're so needy it's cute. Want me to stuff you with my fat cock baby?" I nodded again, my hand tugging at his top. He chuckled once again, wrapping his arms under my thighs and picking me up, my legs wrapping around him instantly before he captured my lips with his, his tongue wasting no time to push itself in my mouth. It was obvious that he was as sexually frustrated as I was and I was loving every part of it. "Now let's see how much you can see from that window of yours." he broke us apart before moving to my open bedroom and dropping me on my bed. He took a quick glimpse at the window and smirked. "Nice view you got eh?"

I prompted myself on my elbows and bit my lip. He removed his t-shirt and threw it somewhere in my room, my eyes too busy staring at his toned chest and beautiful abs to even care. He climbed on top of me and kissed me again, his fingers working their way to the hem of my shirt, pulling it up. He pulled away and stripped it off of me before easily unclasping my bra with one hand and throwing it too along with my shirt. The wind made my pores rise and my nipples harden which were instantly attacked by his merciless mouth as he tugged and sucked on them while his other hand wandered from my stomach down my thigh, pushing it apart to make room for more friction between us, his erection now evident as it pressed firmly against my aching core. I whined and panted as he teased me through the fabric, his hips grinding on me.

I gripped onto his shoulders and squeezed, wanting nothing more than to feel him. "Me too darling me too," he kissed my neck and brought his hands down to pull down my bottoms and thong in one swift motion, his finger tracing my slit teasingly, my hips bucking at the feeling. "Easy baby, I still didn't do non." he shook his head with a grin at my sensitivity and took it ad an opportunity to keep massaging my pussy with his fingers before lowering himself, his eyes not once leaving mine. "I wasn't anticipating eating you out but seeing how beautiful your small pussy is," he spat on my clit before spreading it all over my folds, "I'm not going to miss out on that." And with that he latched his mouth onto me, slurping and making out with my pussy, his tongue fucking me as he kept one hand to grip my leg over his shoulder and the other to rub my now sensitive clit in circular motions.

I moaned as his wet muscle worked against my clit now, his fingers moving to my entrance, slowly pushing themselves into me in one motion, before he began curling them to massage my spongy spot, his tongue moving at a tormenting pace. I whimpered at the combination, my orgasm about to rip through my body from how skilled he was. My hips furiously bucked as my thighs shook, my fingers pushing his head closer as I came undone. He gave my cunt a few more licks before kissing my inner thighs, my fluids dripping down his chin. "I could eat you out all day, but I gotta set my priorities straight yeah?" he breathed pulling down his sweats ad briefs, his erection coated with pre-cum standing still. He gave it a few pumps before rubbing his tip against my cunt, using my cum as lube, his vein pulsating in anticipation. He rose my shoulder to his waist and waited for my signal before slowly pushing his tip in. A gasp of relief fell from our lips, my hand reaching to hold onto his arm.

"You can call me Choso on casual days," halfway in, "and daddy on special ones." I wailed as he bottomed out, his tip almost hitting my cervix. I shook in his embrace, his hips steady as he let me adjust to him. "You are tight indeed, are you comfortable sweetheart?" he asked with concern as he watched my eyes tear up. I nodded which resulted in him caressing my cheek, then slightly giving it a smack, my eyes lighting up. He must've received the message when he slapped me again, not too strong, but enough to make me shiver underneath his touch. His hand went down my throat as he gripped it, his body bending over mine. "Ready?" he kissed my earlobe. "Yes, yes daddy." he groaned pulling his hips back before slamming in again, my legs wrapping around him as I kept him close. He didn't show any mercy as he stretched me open, my nails clawing at his back. He sloppily kissed me, my moans slightly muffled. He switched pace, going slow and deep this time.

"Your pretty pussy wraps so nicely around me, 'so good." I whined when his hand reached down to rub my clit. I whimpered, my nipples rubbing against his chest. "I know love, I know." Once again, I felt the shame and shyness wash away from me as I uttered my next words.

"Can- fuck, can you fill me up with your, mhm, cum?" I looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, my bottom lip between my lips. He looked down at me, his mouth agape as his movements stilled for a moment. "I'm on the pill." I added which appeared to reassure him as he bent down to kiss me, his thrust back to being fast and rough. "Shouldn't have told me that, gonna have to take it all now hmm? Like a good girl." I nodded, moaning into his shoulder as he relentlessly stroked himself in me, our skin slapping against each other as sweat dripped from our bodies. He grabbed my breast, pinching at my sensitive bud as he took the other in his mouth. It was all too much for me, I felt myself clench around him, making him slightly bite my nipple, my orgasm brutally ripping through my body, his hand keeping my hips still as he kept thrusting, his sloppy strokes indicating that he was close.

"Fuck your cum in me, daddy, please." I whimpered, his mouth now biting down my neck and leaving some marks here and there. I heard him cuss and groan before loading his cum in me, my inner self hoping that the pill won't disappoint me. He held himself up with his elbows as he panted, his eyes never leaving mine and his dick limp in my coated cunt. "Holy shit," he chuckled, slowly removing himself from me, his cum instantly dripping down on my mattress. He seemed to notice because of how fast he rushed to grab a towel and clean me up as much as he could. "Are you okay?" "Yeah yeah, don't worry." I smiled at him. "Good girl." he kissed my temple and began putting on his clothes.

"I need to go take a shower and prepare some food for my son. If you need anything, call out from your window eh?" he joked making us both laugh. "No but seriously, if you ever need me again, remember I'm a window away." He winked and left my bedroom, the front door closing shut behind him.

[drunkenorctavern]

Human Reader x Orc Guardsman MM CW: Watersports, Musk, Dubcon, Alcohol.

You were the spitting image of the humble human farmer. You payed your dues, you harvested your crop, and you put down your drinks. You were just a humble, god-fearing farmer, with not a single uncouth desire, until tonight. You were just walking back from a night at the town pub. Well, stumbling more like. The issue was that you really needed to take a fat piss, but it was a long walk to your outhouse, and you'd need to pay for a room to use the inn's waste buckets.

The inebriation was making it harder and harder to stand up straight, much less get all the way back home. your bladder felt like it was gonna burst any second. Fuckin' A. You stopped, holding your hands to your crotch trying to keep it in, and looked around sheepishly. The crusty alleyway to your left looked awfully appealing right now. It already reeked anyway, so what was a few droplets to the pond.

You couldn't take it anymore. Waddling awkwardly into the alleyway, and making sure you weren't seen, you pulled down your pants and breeches at the same time. The night breeze was soothing on your loins as you let loose. All the ale you drowned your gullet with spilled out onto the old wattle and dob. It felt good to let loose after a night of drinks with the lads, so good you didn't notice the lantern light making it's way closer to you with a loud stomp.

"Aye, *hic* wut do you t'ink yer' doin'?" a low commanding voice boomed.

Shit. The hose dried up pretty quick after he heard that. In a drunken stupor to get your clothes back on, you fell flat on your ass into your own piss puddle. Cold brickwork stuck to your behind as the voice stumbled closer. Worst case scenario. A stocky, orc guardsmen of considerable size stumbled over to you. He didn't stop until you were between his thick trunk like legs looking up at him. Even if you were standing up, he would've towered over you by at least two heads. He was donned in a dark colored gambeson, leather boots, and the signature studded helmet that all the town guard wore.

There was just one thing missing, the orc wasn't wearing pants. under his gambeson, he was in nothing but a dirty burlap loincloth. You had an excellent view of everything that went on under there. The abused, stained fabric barely covered anything at all. It cupped the orc's sizable manhood, but his balls practically spilled out the sides, and the thinner parts got bunched up in his sweaty crack.

"Tha's uhhhh, *hic* uhhh, pubic ecks-pose-zure" The orc sounded it out like he wasn't sure how it was pronounced, he clearly was a couple tankards in himself, "Lis'en mate, *hic* if I whipped ou' mah pecker as much as I wanted to, I'd lose muh johb."

You sputtered out an excuse of just needing to relieve yourself, as you struggled to just pull your pants up. Unfortunately for you, it seems the sleazy orc misinterpreted what you meant entirely. Though your alcohol marinated brain hasn't yet caught up.

"Aye, mmmmh, well, *hic* I'm in a similar spoht muhself," The orc admitted, scratching his large, stubbled chin as the rusty cogs of his brain turned. Suddenly, something seemed to click in his head, as if struck by a revelation. He looked down at you hungrily, "I've not gut some relief since early dis mornin'"

"U'll tell yuh wut, youse gotta purty face" the orc propositioned you, "how aboot we make uh deal..."

You looked up hopefully at the orc, the sooner you could make it home, the sooner you could be in bed and sleep off the alcohol that wracked your senses, and leave this shamful moment behind you. You nodded eagerly.

"Well, uh ain't seen nuttin', *hic* nuttin' at all," The orc's voice deepened, and he started undoing the buckles of his tunic, "All yuh gotta do, is help muh empty muh nads."

Your nodding slowed as you stared in disbelief and apprehension. Weighing the options in your head you looked to the side, trying to find a way to weasle out of this situation you found yourself in. In the deeper parts of your psyche, you always wanted something like this to happen to you, but...

"C'mon lad, *hic* I really need it, my nads are aboot to burst," The orc whined desperately. His loincloth was starting to get tight, if it was ill fitting before, it looked downright silly now.

"Nuh'n has tuh know."

You've always had fantasies about this kind of thing in the back of your mind, being used by a big stinky orc. This was the kinda thing they couldn't torture out of someone, but the buzz of the ale made this much easier to stomach. If anyone found out, you could just say you were drunk off your ass, or forced, maybe both. Sitting up, and getting your face close to the goal, you've decided you already made up your mind.

The orc put his hand on your head appreciatively, "Der we go, *hic* Aye knews yuhd come aroond."

Your face was pushed into his now hardened tent. His big green belly rested on your head. The first thing that struck you was the odor. It kicked you in the teeth like a wild horse. The ripe onion smell of old sweat burned the hairs out of your nose, and you were deeply ashamed of how hard it made you. Your body breathed it in without your consent, letting the smell make you dizzy.

"Das it lad, take it all in, huvn't washed dis ting in weeks."

The orc didn't protest at all when you nervously opened your mouth and licked the length of the strained fabric, quite the opposite in fact, he gave an appreciative moan. You'd expected the burlap to dry your mouth out, but thankfully, or unfortunately the entire thing was soaking wet with sweat and god knows what else. All your inhibitions vanished now, drunker than ever thought possible. In that moment you'd swear that if the bar keep handed you a tankard of orcish ball sweat, you'd lap it up like a thirsty dog. What was wrong with you?

You lifted yourself up, and gave the orc's cock head an experimental suckle. To your surprise, the orc was already leaking thick pre, which you eagerly drank through his loincloth. The orc was bucking into your ministrations, groaning and cussing without restraint, you almost felt proud. It was only a matter of time before the orc couldn't take it anymore.

"Ughhhh, yer so gud 'umie, yuh were born tuh nurse peckers, fuuuck," The orc's voice was getting strained, "I'm gittin' close, oooh fuck muh."

The orc gaurdsman was getting himself out of breath. He wasn't even bothering with your mouth anymore, just grinding against your entire face like a horse and a particular smooth rock. Thrusts shortening and getting more desperate until eventually he erupted right through his undies. He gave few final thrusts, smearing rancid seed over your face. Your own dick twitched as it blew your load all over the masoned road as well. It was one of the hardest nuts you've ever had, handsfree as well, humiliating.

"Fuuuuck, guhd lad," the orc guardsman grinned sleazily down at his new plaything, "Dat was guhd work ya did 'umie, like nuh'n else, yer off da hook"

You both stared at each other contemplatively, and you both knew it wasn't quite over, even as the orc became flaccid.

"Actually, *hic* I need 'nuther favor," the orc licked his tusks, "I need tuh piss real bad."

You were already made into a whore by this sleazy orc. Turns out you were willing to do anything with a few tankards in your system and a couple whiffs of orc musk. You desperately pulled the orc's loincloth to the side. To your surprise, it was even bigger than it looked when it was restrained by that damnable piece of burlap. Even flaccid it was almost the size of your forearm. It looked like a giant green cucumber.

The orc pushed you towards his cock, and you wasted no time wrapping your hand around the base of his pecker, and slipping your tongue under his loose foreskin. You aimed the orc's dickhole straight into your mouth, waiting for your prize, and he delivered.

Hot and salty orc piss shot down your throat, you choked at first, but soon you learned to relax and accept it straight into your stomach. It was almost too much, your belly was getting filled up at an alarming rate. Soon after nearly a full minute, the orc's faucet slowed down to a few dribbles. He pulled out, and smacked his cock against your lips to get the remaining droplets off the tip. Finally satisfied, the sleazy orc helped you back unto your feet.

"Guhd lad, *hic* now dunnae let muh catch yuh here again," The orc looked behind him, before turning back and whispering "Unless yuh wanna be muh whore again, wouldn't mind doin' that again wuhd yuh?"

You nodded feverishly. Maybe your head wasn't in the right place right this second, but you'd rather die than not get to suck orc cock again. The orc let you go, letting the wall support you instead. Your legs were like jelly, and you could barely stand up straight. Soon you found out why the orc let you go so soon. He reached under his gambison, undid his loincloth, and handed it to you by way of chucking it onto your face with a wet slap. The musky undergarments hung off your nose.

"Consider it uh partin' gift, have a noice night 'umie."

With that, the orc gaurdsmen was off, stumbling out of the alleyway, letting you catch a glimpse of his hairy green ass as he walked away. You were left violated, covered in bodily fluids, pants down, unwashed underwear hanging off of your face, and you wanted nothing more than to do it all over again.